Washington

by Douglas Southall Freeman

  Jefferson went to Washington with Smith’s disclosures, also laying before the President extracts of three dispatches sent to Ternant in sharp complaint over the character and conduct of Morris. Washington was dismayed. He had not expected Morris to make himself popular with the radical rulers of France, but were not such strenuous expressions equivalent to a demand for the envoy’s recall? The President felt that Morris should be replaced at once. Jefferson suggested that Morris exchange posts with Pinckney at London. Washington asked, instead, would not the Secretary of State himself resume for a while his old station at Paris? Jefferson refused categorically, and added that he soon meant to retire from public life. This irritated Washington. Jefferson had pressed him to continue in office and now refused to do likewise himself. The Secretary of State insisted that the circumstances were not the same. Besides, Philadelphia soon would be “the scene of action, as Genet was bringing powers to do the business here.”

  The President sought at once the counsel of Randolph. The Attorney General advised that no step be taken until Genet’s arrival. Washington followed the course the Attorney General proposed. Smith himself called at the President’s house on February 23. Washington welcomed the personable traveller but did not intend to acknowledge Smith as a temporary commercial agent of the French republic now that Ternant had been notified that the advance of over $500,000 would be made to him. The Colonel’s application was unanimously rejected in a meeting of the Cabinet on March 2.

  Smith’s visit put bright focus on that factor which, Washington knew, must dictate the President’s every major decision in months and years ahead: the relation of the United States to France and her Revolution. The nature of the relationship would determine every aspect of American policy towards England and Spain as well as towards France. It would cut the contour of American politics and throw long shadows into every corner of the Union. Washington’s first administration had been placid; his second would be turbulent because the influence of the French Revolution now was unmistakable and inescapable. The United States must be careful to avoid any guarantee to defend the colonial empire of Spain against foreign attack. If Miranda should strike New Orleans as Smith predicted, the United States should be in a position to exact concessions from Spain—or even, if circumstances were right, to impose vengeance on Spanish authorities for their incitation of the southern Indians in the past year. Jefferson was asked to revise at once his instructions to the envoys at Madrid. On March 23 the Secretary of State set down the new rule—Carmichael and Short should make no defensive guarantee in return for any promise by Spain to open the Mississippi. Conditions had changed, Jefferson wrote; the United States must remain “free to act.”

  Washington continued to be distressed by the plight of Lafayette. On March 13 the President asked Jefferson to instruct Morris in Paris “to neglect no favorable opportunity of expressing informally the sentiments and wishes of this country respecting the M. de la Fayette.” The Secretary of State wrote Morris that even a formal application for Lafayette’s release might be appropriate if made with delicacy. Washington also requested Jefferson to draft a message to the Marquise which would embody “all the consolation I can with propriety give her, consistent with my public character and the national policy, circumstanced as things are.”

  On March 16 Philadelphia newspapers carried fragmentary accounts of the verdict of the National Convention on the fate of Louis XVI and some hint of the execution of the King by guillotine on January 21. Republicans exulted; Federalists could only endure the distressful news in silence. Washington could not bring himself to write a word on the subject. However ennobling the broad objectives of French Revolutionaries might be, the President knew better than most Americans what his country owed to the generosity of the monarch whose name had been cheered and toasted in Philadelphia only a few years before.

  The spectre of general war did not diminish, but Washington hoped for America’s sake that the conflagration would not spread. The welfare of his country could be served only by abstention from European difficulties and hostilities. This was the tenor of long letters of March 23 and 25 to Humphreys at Lisbon and Morris at Paris. Washington observed to Humphreys: “I trust that we shall have too just a sense of our own interest to originate any cause that may involve us in it, and I ardently wish we may not be forced into it by the conduct of other nations.”

  Washington readied himself for a journey to Virginia. With the turn of his carriage towards the Potomac, he could dismiss for a time the countless concerns of public office and turn his thoughts to plantation affairs. This would be his first return since George Augustine’s death. Perhaps the Major’s young widow and her three children soon would make Mount Vernon their home. Washington had written a tender letter to “Fanny”—an assurance of sympathy and affection, and a gracious invitation to resume residence at Mount Vernon. He thoughtfully suggested that she might bring Harriet Washington for companionship. A carriage for her use had been sent to Mount Vernon. One request the uncle made: that she entrust to him her elder son and thereby be spared concern or expense for his education.

  At Baltimore on March 30 the President was handed a letter Lear had posted the day before: Philadelphia ship-owners were “under great apprehension,” but there was as yet no confirmation of the rumors of war. As the distance shortened to Georgetown, Washington had to ponder what he knew of the controversy between Ellicott and the commissioners of the Federal District. The President realized that he must placate this quarrel or sacrifice the services of an experienced surveyor in much the same way that the talents of L’Enfant had been lost. Arriving at the site of the Federal City on April 2, Washington indicated in forcible terms that Ellicott, as an employee of the commissioners, was accountable to them.

  Before sunset on April 2 he was home once more; his very presence on the Potomac brought him solace, but it could not bring him rest. The time was short and details of private business consumed many hours that Washington would have liked to spend in the fields. His finances demanded long, tedious correspondence. Particularly disappointing was a failure, after much expectation, to realize cash from his Kanawha lands. He had also to inquire into the standing of his account with the James River Company, and he hoped to dispose of his interests in the Great Dismal Swamp. Beyond matters of business, there remained the sad duty of arranging for the burial of George Augustine. The simple interment on April 11 was private and without a sermon.

  Respite from affairs of state ended abruptly with arrival of Hamilton’s letter of April 5 from Philadelphia. A ship had crossed from Lisbon with advices that Europe was in general conflagration. Pitt had ordered the French Minister to leave London; Marie Antoinette had followed her husband to the guillotine; France had declared war against England, Spain and Holland. Hamilton confirmed this in a second communication on April 8, adding his opinion that the conduct of the British navy towards American merchant vessels in the Atlantic had been “thus far . . . unexceptionable.” The day before Jefferson had written that the existence of war now was “extremely probable” and that America must “take every justifiable measure for preserving our neutrality and at the same time provide for [France] those necessaries for war which must be brought across the Atlantic.” Philadelphia was convulsed in speculation on what the war might mean to the United States; but, Lear was certain, “the universal hope is that [we] may not be drawn into it.”

  The President wrote hurriedly to Jefferson, April 12: “It behooves the Government of this country to use every means in its power to prevent the citizens . . . from embroiling us with either [England or France] by endeavoring to maintain a strict neutrality.” The Secretary of State was instructed to “give the subject mature consideration” and plan steps which would guarantee a neutral role for the United States. To Hamilton, in a separate letter, Washington emphasized his desire for “immediate precautionary measures.” He would set out for Philadelphia the next morning. Eruption of general European war had curtailed a vacation and ru
ined a rest much needed. As Lear greeted him on April 17 and he entered the office once more, Washington knew his nation was floundering in a tempest of diplomacy and domestic politics she never before had experienced. Resolution must ride out the storm.

  His first day back at public business was crowded with detail that exacted minute attention and threatened to eclipse the most significant question yet to manifest itself in his Presidency: Was a plan ready or in process that would assure for the United States a strictly neutral role in the European conflict? Action was necessary and must not be postponed. For some time Hamilton had been gathering data and opinions on the status and current applicability of the Franco-American Treaties of Alliance and Commerce concluded in 1778. While Washington was not aware of the depth of Hamilton’s plunges into diplomacy, he knew the Secretary of the Treasury liked to dabble in the business of the Department of State; he knew likewise that Jefferson resented these intrusions. Probably, therefore, Jefferson had not conversed a moment with Hamilton on the topic of neutrality. The widening rift in his Cabinet was to be lamented more than ever in the immediate crisis, but lamentation would never bridge it. As a last piece of business on April 18 the President sent notices to the Secretaries and the Attorney General of a meeting the next morning to deliberate on “certain matters arising from the present posture of affairs in Europe.”

  The Cabinet assembled in Washington’s office and opened a strenuous discussion of questions the President tendered. Should a proclamation issue to prevent unneutral acts by Americans—and should it contain a “declaration of neutrality”? The necessity for a formal proclamation, Hamilton argued, was as immediate as it was obvious; Jefferson took exception on two counts. A “declaration of neutrality,” he explained, was nothing less than “a declaration that there should be no war,” and Congress alone had power to decide for war or peace. “It would be better,” he insisted, “to hold back the declaration of neutrality as a thing worth something to the powers at war”; then each might “bid for it and we might reasonably ask [as] a price the broadest privileges” of a neutral nation. Hamilton, Knox and Randolph felt a proclamation was imperative; silence was fraught with too many perils. Finally, with an understanding that Congress would not be bound in the next session by the President’s action and upon agreement that the word “neutrality” be omitted, it was decided that a statement of public policy should issue. It should forbid American citizens “to take part in any hostilities on the seas,” warn them “against carrying . . . any of those articles deemed contraband by the modern usage of nations,” and enjoin them “from all acts and proceedings inconsistent with the duties of a friendly nation toward those at war—” no more than an Executive warning to the citizens of the United States.

  The second question was—should the Minister of the French Republic be received? Jefferson thought hesitancy to receive Genet would amount to a breach of the neutrality which was to be solemnly proclaimed. Decision to receive him was unanimous, though Hamilton expressed “great regret that any incident had happened which should oblige us to recognize the [revolutionary] government.”

  Should Genet be received absolutely or with some qualification? Upon this hinged all subsequent challenge to the validity of the treaties of 1778 under the stresses of 1793. The Secretary of the Treasury loosed a thunderbolt of logic. France was a monarchy in 1778, he pointed out, but now that nation styled itself a republic “. . . we have a right of election to renounce [the treaties] altogether or to declare [them] suspended till [the French] government shall be settled in the form it is ultimately to take.” If the Minister of the French Republic was to be received without qualification, this would “amount to an act of election to continue the treaties”; renunciation or at least suspension of them was essential to preservation of American neutrality. Jefferson’s displeasure mounted as Knox professed himself in accord with the Secretary of the Treasury. The Secretary of State’s comment was terse: Hamilton’s argument was ingenious but not sound—treaties bind nations rather than governments. Randolph, perhaps to the surprise of everyone, agreed with Jefferson. Then the Attorney General suggested that further time be taken to consider the status of the fifteen-year-old contracts. Randolph’s conciliatory spirit eased the most distressful rupture yet to mar a meeting of the Cabinet. Prompt adjournment followed—subsequent questions postponed to another day.

  It remained for Randolph to choose the words of the neutrality proclamation; the President had confidence that he could phrase a declaration moderate enough for Jefferson and forceful enough for Hamilton. When the Cabinet convened on April 22 the Attorney General displayed the draft of his handiwork. Approval was unanimous and Washington ordered a finished copy drawn up for signature and seal. Over the weekend news had reached Philadelphia that Genet had disembarked at Charleston on April 8. Very likely this intelligence was discussed in council and Hamilton may have expressed surprise that the new Minister had not come directly to the seat of government to present his credentials; but no debate followed on the questions left over from the nineteenth. The Cabinet adjourned, and Washington put his pen to the document he chose to call a “Proclamation of Neutrality,” though the word “neutrality” had carefully been excluded from its text. On this warning to all citizens to abstain from unneutral acts Washington rested his hope that the nation might avoid involvement in war. Americans wanted peace; that was certain. But it was not at all certain that every American would be well pleased with the Proclamation. Ardent Federalists doubtless would consider it an ineffectual instrument. Ardent Republicans would denounce it as a royal edict, a flagrant show of hostility to the objectives of the French Revolution. Jefferson’s disappointment could be expected to deepen rather than abate—in his view a great weapon had been thrown away. No longer could he hope to make Great Britain pay for American neutrality with diplomatic concessions. What might be the reaction of the British and Spanish ministers? Washington made no guess.

  As if foreign affairs were not enough to harass the President, Indian problems again vied prominently for his attention. Communications from Georgia told of plundering and killing on the southern border. Early in March a party of Seminoles had pillaged a store on the St. Mary’s River and killed several persons. Other outrages had followed. Alarm had spread among the settlers and Gov. Edward Telfair had called out the militia. Frontier apprehensions were by no means restricted to Georgia. Word of depredations in the Tennessee country and the Virginia borders came in letters from Govs. William Blount and Henry Lee.

  Washington had no doubt that Spain was the real culprit here. Carondolet’s emissaries in the Floridas were openly inviting the savages to plunder and murder. The offer of arms and ammunition removed restraint. There was some hope for peaceful settlement in the thought that not all of the Creek nation was of belligerent mind. Moreover, the Chickasaws were at war with the Creeks. This might serve to divide the combative zeal of the Redmen. On April 27 Knox submitted for approval of the President a message to the Chickasaws, whose aid would be coveted should the United States be drawn into open war with the Creeks and Cherokees.

  Prospects on the Northwest frontier were momentarily brighter because the Sandusky conference was in sight. On April 18 Knox had presented a draft of instructions for the commissioners who would treat with the hostile Ohio tribes. This was to be the last proffer of the peace pipe. Pending outcome of the negotiations at Sandusky, Wayne had orders to prevent aggression by frontiersmen against all Indian towns. At the same time, Wayne held his troops in readiness for the defence of the Ohio if such action should be necessary. The forthcoming conference did not promise peace, but there was strength in the knowledge that nothing had been left undone towards that end. Justice had been and would continue to be the principle on which every exertion towards settlement revolved.

  Except to pen a letter about his western lands in dismal pursuit of settling some account there, the President had no time for things at Mount Vernon until April 21. The most irksome information forwarded b
y his manager was that a notice of taxes due had come to the plantation—taxes its owner thought out of season. In any event, a strict economy was necessary and such an admonition went forth to Whiting that day. A letter to the overseer at Fanny Washington’s was enclosed, along with a reminder to Whiting to have an eye on the place now and then.

  Spectres of war which clouded the horizon of the Atlantic could not long be forgotten. Washington looked daily for the written opinions of his Cabinet on the status of the French treaties. More and more he came of certain mind that Hamilton’s argument for suspension or nullification of American pledges was unsound. The Revolutionary Commander-in-Chief could appreciate the debt of his country to the dethroned Bourbons; but vivid memories also remained of the gallant French footsoldiers at Yorktown who, still Frenchmen in every sense, now were at grips with the same foe they had helped America defeat. This human reason deterred Washington from formal abandonment of the people of France and their new republic. Jefferson furnished legal shot-and-shell with which to demolish the arguments of the Secretary of the Treasury. In the council of the nineteenth Hamilton had offered to prove from Vattel that the treaties of 1778 no longer applied. From the same authority the Secretary of State now demonstrated that precisely the opposite was true. Jefferson conceded that the guarantee in the treaties of American defence of the French West Indies against all enemies could operate to draw the United States into the war, but he felt that danger was “neither extreme, nor imminent, nor even probable.” Unquestionably, Jefferson pointed out, the French Republic stood to gain more from a friendly but non-belligerent America than from an active ally whose contribution to naval hostilities in the Atlantic could be but microscopic. The sanity and sense behind this opinion must have struck the President forcibly. The matter was closed; the treaties stood. Washington was glad to have done with an unseemly squabble and told Jefferson he hoped the public would not learn of it.