Washington

by Douglas Southall Freeman

  Expectations of most Federalists had been realized and suspicions of most Republicans quieted by Adams’ Inaugural Address. It appeared that Adams was indeed a man of no party—or so Republicans thought for a brief time. Even Jefferson was convinced for a day. Soon after his inauguration the Chief Executive sought an interview with his Vice President to discuss the pressing need of a new mission to France and ascertain whether Jefferson himself would serve as the all-important emissary. No one else, Adams believed, was so uniquely qualified. But Jefferson’s inclination was against it, and Adams dismissed the idea. Thereupon the two began to consider other eligible characters. They were clearly in agreement that Madison would make an ideal member, but Jefferson predicted that the retiring Congressman would decline. On the evening of the sixth Adams and Jefferson dined with Washington as his guests. When they were out of the house, Jefferson resumed the discussion of the previous day by informing the new President that Madison positively refused to consider an assignment to France. Adams quickly indicated a change of mind in the matter, due, he added, to certain unexpected objections raised in a consultation. Jefferson saw embarrassment in Adams’ effort at excuses and sensed a reason: That morning Adams had met with his Cabinet and, Jefferson concluded, had been led back into the partiality of the Federalist fold. Collaboration ceased as suddenly as it had begun. Unlike President Washington, President Adams was not to enjoy the full favor of his Vice President. Nor was there to be the same happy circumstance of continuing harmony between President and Cabinet. Adams chose to retain the department heads and Attorney General Lee, but full allegiance to the Chief Executive did not necessarily follow. The men he inherited in turn chose to inherit and seek the constant counsel and approval of that high Federalist leader in New York, Hamilton.

  Washington turned from Executive matters to different duties and spent many hours in preparation for the move to Mount Vernon. The sorting and transfer of furniture and furnishings, the disposition of countless belongings, presidential and personal, were exacting for him and his staff. The General himself made detailed lists of government property in the residence, with accounts of articles long ago worn out and replaced through his private funds and of certain objects to be offered for public sale. On March 8 Washington appeared at the President’s quarters to pay farewell respects to his successor, and by the morning of the ninth everything was in readiness for the departure of the former President and his entourage. Besides Martha, himself and Nelly Custis, George Washington Lafayette and his tutor, Felix Frestel, made up the family party. Tobias Lear and Bartholomew Dandridge remained in Philadelphia to supervise final packing, shipping and the thorough cleaning that must be done before the Adamses took up residence in the President’s House. After everything was in order, Lear would bring the final accounts to Mount Vernon, but the parting with Dandridge was a definite farewell. The young man soon would leave to become secretary to William Vans Murray, American Minister at The Hague.

  CHAPTER / 24

  Wherever he tactfully could do so on his journey home, Washington avoided escort and parade. As always, he was mindful of the honor and pleased with the intent, but he was eager to be at Mount Vernon and ceremonies took time. It was desirable for Martha’s sake, too, that they not tarry, for she was suffering from a severe cold. The few first days were without ceremonial, but on March 12, 1797, Baltimore was eagerly waiting to bestow all its honors. Salutations were spectacular and prolonged from a crowd said to be the largest ever assembled in the city. On the fourteenth the City of Washington brought out its artillery escort and as the General reached the Capitol he heard the sound of cannon. Later, as the returning planter rode by the President’s House of future years, now under construction, the salute of sixteen guns found its echo in the hearty huzzas of spectators. Georgetown citizens presented their own complimentary address the following day. It was for Alexandria to extend the final tribute of the journey; townspeople gathered at the ferry landing and accompanied their illustrious neighbor to the door of Mount Vernon.

  The master of Mount Vernon soon discovered that fields and buildings were in serious need of repair. Within ten days after his return, painters had begun their work in preparation for the expected furnishings from Philadelphia. Soon joiners and masons were busy in all parts of the mansion and many of the outbuildings. James McHenry’s concern lest retirement bring to Washington restlessness was groundless. He had no time and no need for a period of readjustment. He explained,

  I find myself in the situation of a young beginner; for although I have not houses to build (except one, which I must erect for the accommodation and security of my military, civil and private papers which are voluminous, and may be interesting) yet I have . . . scarcely anything else about me that does not require considerable repairs.

  By March 25 the plantation proprietor had word that the sloop Salem was on its way with the furniture and other articles from Philadelphia. The invoice, enclosed in a letter from Lear, listed ninety-seven boxes, fourteen trunks, forty-three casks, thirteen packages, three hampers and various other items. The postscript of the General’s acknowledgment to Lear—”it would be very pleasing to me to have you here”—was understatement. He had need of every competent, helpful hand. Along with the confusion of these days, Washington had also the anxiety of Martha’s health. Her cold persisted, though at last he could say she was better. Sometime before March 31 favorable winds brought the Salem and the much beloved Lear. Many duties could be shifted onto his younger shoulders and those not shifted could be shared with this tried and understanding friend. Moreover, Lear would have fresh observations and information from the seat of government on which the former Chief Executive could rely.

  In April only Washington’s pen was less busy than usual. The few letters he wrote were concerned for the most part with irksome matters of personal business—to some extent due to the way his old friend Henry Lee had sought to discharge his indebtedness for purchase of the Dismal Swamp land. The stock Lee proposed to transfer in part payment was reputed to be worthless—a fact that did not please the seller and one not altogether disguised in the General’s communications concerning it. All this must have been the more annoying because of the indifference of George Ball, who had contracted for Washington’s Gloucester lands. Ball not only had neglected to comply with the terms, but also was an elusive correspondent. The General was further vexed by “dribbling payments” from Israel Shreve, purchaser of his lands in western Pennsylvania, which made it necessary for Washington to employ a business agent in Philadelphia. Word from George Lewis on the fifth brought news of the death of the General’s sister, Betty Washington Lewis. The melancholy of his nephew’s letter, Washington replied, filled him with “inexpressible concern.”

  Washington soon discovered that in addition to tedious proprietary responsibility, he faced exacting parental responsibility also. George Washington Parke Custis was more nearly son than grandson and, had he lived up to the flavor of his letters, a more exemplary youth would have been hard to find; but his pen portrayed more promise than performance. His behavior was reminiscent of that of his father, John Parke Custis. Young Custis, sixteen, was now enrolled in the College of New Jersey at Princeton. From his sister Nelly he had learned details of the family’s homeward journey. In proper spirit he addressed a letter of congratulation to his grandfather on the “marks of approbation and esteem” along the way and added that he would be hurrying home for a visit of perhaps twenty days. No doubt the General and Martha looked forward to his return, and if there was cause for displeasure during this visit, there was no mention of it; but after his departure, information about him, rather than from him, brought distress to Washington. On April 24, in manifest disappointment, the General acknowledged a letter from the Rev. Samuel Stanhope Smith, president of the College, that had contained disquieting reports of the boy. Then there began an exchange between the General and Custis that indicated full forgiveness for some unnamed offense in return for remorse and firm resol
ution. The boy wrote disarmingly and convincingly that he had “shockingly abused” Washington’s goodness, though now he was the “sincere penitent”; he promised that “your grandson shall once more deserve your favor.” Except for Custis’ reference to “the late contest with the passions,” there was no hint as to the nature of his misconduct. At a season when Washington’s every exertion was needed in home affairs, when his every thought not of home was disturbed by the condition of national affairs, indiscretions of an adolescent grandson scarcely could be regarded as diversion.

  Washington had asked Secretary of War McHenry to communicate to him important developments in state affairs, within, of course, the bounds of official propriety. McHenry had written on March 24 of the French Directory’s refusal to receive Pinckney and the insulting form of the rejection—an indirect message to the new Minister by way of the recalled Monroe. “The conduct of the French government is so much beyond calculation,” Washington replied, “and so unaccountable upon any principle of justice or even of plain understanding, that I shall not now puzzle my brains in attempting to develop their motives to it.”

  Now letters from Secretary of State Pickering disclosed ominous developments. Turbulence and tension seemed to mount, and party spirit more than ever was pervading the United States. It was a stormy season, and most of the thunderheads on both sides of the Atlantic had risen from France. The Directory was not alone in labelling resentment towards the United States the “fruit of the British Treaty.” Jefferson so named it, and like-minded Republicans everywhere evinced similar scorn. The two political factions referred to one another as the “British Party” or the “French Party” with increasing frequency and venom. The friends of government in America feared the force of their enemies at home far more than the threats of their enemies abroad. It was estimated that thirty thousand Frenchmen resided in the United States, reputedly allied in devotion to France. The American Society of United Irishmen numbered fifty thousand, and their animosity towards Great Britain made fears more formidable. Feelings of Federalist merchants intensified with growing French depredations on American shipping.

  The burden of French remonstrance against the United States was based on Jay’s treaty which, the Directory continued to insist, was a violation of the Franco-American alliance of 1778. The maritime policy against American commerce was provoked and justified, it was declared, by this outrageous infraction. Yet the French ministry could not explain on these grounds its demands of Hamburg, Bremen and Denmark to sever commerce with England. The objective was to choke off British commerce everywhere; Jay’s treaty interfered with French strategy. The Directory had taken umbrage in the frustrating fact that the negotiation of 1795 had eased friction between America and England. Such accord jeopardized the license France had enjoyed. Her desire and designs grew with the extraordinary success of her campaigns, and she became more menacing with each new conquest.

  Washington was glad to observe that Adams did not equivocate. The new President courageously proceeded with his first step towards negotiation—approval of a special mission to France. He then issued a proclamation on March 25 for Congress to assemble in extra session May 15. Republicans now turned against Adams as vigorously as ever they had opposed Washington. They had some justification for their retort that the very men who, not many months ago, were so aghast at the idea of war with England now seemed to invite conflict with France. Government officials theoretically closest to Adams—his department heads themselves—favored a war declaration, but Pickering, Wolcott and McHenry reckoned without their oracle, Hamilton, who was of the same opinion as Adams. Realistically, the two recognized that no provocation short of the most humiliating would justify open war. Consequently, towards the middle of May the Chief Executive found his policy strengthened by the approval of his Cabinet, though their deference was to Hamilton rather than to Adams.

  By the last week in May the General had read a copy of Adams’ speech to Congress May 16 and studied the documents to which it referred. Adams had spoken well. His speech reviewed the events leading to crisis—the abuses, demands and rebuffs of the French Directory; in particular, the indignity of Pinckney’s treatment. Yet, Adams continued to explain, the conduct of the Directory towards the recalled Monroe was more significant even than its refusal of Pinckney and “evinces a disposition to separate the people of the United States from the Government . . . and thus to produce division fatal to our peace.” France must be persuaded by whatever instrument necessary that “national honor, character, and interest” still prevailed in the United States. Humiliation and indignity America would not tolerate, but national pride did not preclude certain concessions. On this premise, then, he would proceed, and no reasonable effort towards amicable settlement would be left untried. Republicans denounced the speech as a war cry. Washington, hopeful that the address would unify national sentiment, was disappointed that so great a minority continued in opposition. This was the more lamented by those friends of government who believed the principles of Washington’s administration were on trial.

  When Washington began a letter to Thomas Pinckney on May 28 consuming anxiety encouraged his pen to record his thoughts on national affairs. Every principle on which the Constitution was based, it seemed, now was being challenged. “Things cannot, ought not to remain any longer in their present disagreeable state. Nor should the idea that the government and the people have different views be suffered any longer to prevail, at home or abroad.” Whether the United States would “stand upon independent ground, or be directed in its political concerns by any other nation,” Washington knew, would not remain long in doubt. “A little time will show who are its true friends or, what is synonymous, who are true Americans.”

  The last week in June brought to Mount Vernon one of its master’s most welcome guests. On his way from Richmond to Philadelphia, whence he would sail to join Charles Cotesworth Pinckney, John Marshall “spent an evening” with Washington. There was much to be said on the crisis and of the task on which Marshall was embarked. On May 31 President Adams had named him and Francis Dana to join Pinckney for the special envoy to France. Senate approval was forthcoming on June 5, but Judge Dana declined to serve. Then, solidly against Cabinet advice, Republican Elbridge Gerry was nominated as the third member of the mission. Washington’s confidence in Marshall’s excellent mind and discriminating judgment had been attested a year earlier by his own first choice of his fellow-Virginian as replacement for Monroe. As Marshall left the Potomac haven, he was given three letters from Washington for delivery in Europe—to the Comte Guillaume Dumas, former aide to Rochambeau; the Comte de Ségur, friend of Lafayette, and Pinckney. The closing paragraph of each of the communications introduced the bearer and his mission. Washington said of this emissary: “You will find him well worthy of your friendship and confidence. He is a firm friend, upon true principles to his country, sensible and discreet.”

  If visitors to Mount Vernon had any notion of its existing turmoil, few of them were influenced by it. The busy proprietor never knew when he came in from his afternoon inspection of the farms what company would share his table. Instead of the relaxation of friendly faces across the board and the ease of familiar, favorite topics of conversation—sometimes quiet, sometimes stimulating, as the need might be—there often were strangers, “come as they say, out of respect to me.” But Washington was prompted to ask: “Pray, would not the word curiosity answer as well?” With its owner’s retreat to private life, the “well-resorted tavern” of earlier years, as the General had once described Mount Vernon, lost none of its fascination for the stranger. Friends and distant family came often on invitation and Washington delighted in their presence, but his rigid daily routine did not allow him to tarry long of an evening to talk or listen, however interesting or dear the company might be. On July 31 Washington penned this note to Lear: “I am alone at present, and shall be glad to see you this evening. Unless someone pops in, unexpectedly—Mrs. Washington and myself will do what
I believe has not been done within the last twenty years by us—that is to set down to dinner by ourselves.” Even with his rule for retiring early, the burden of entertainment made it desirable that a proper person be brought to Mount Vernon to bestow its hospitality. Hopefully, he wrote to his nephew, Lawrence Lewis: “Whenever it is convenient to you to make this place your home, I shall be glad to see you at it . . . As both your aunt and I are in the decline of life, and regular in our habits, especially in our hours of rising and going to bed, I require some person . . . to ease me of the trouble of entertaining company, particularly of nights . . . In taking these duties, which hospitality obliges one to bestow on company, it would render me a very acceptable service. . . .”

  Correspondence of a far different nature engaged Washington on July 3, when he read a paper of startling implications enclosed in a letter posted at Knoxville on June 11. The enclosure was a confidential letter from Senator William Blount of Tennessee, former Governor of the Southwest Territory, to James Carey, Indian interpreter, dated April 21, 1797. This communication had been intercepted and sent to Philadelphia by David Henley, who simultaneously directed a copy to Mount Vernon. The former President saw in it the basest designs and intrigue. A scheme to involve the Creeks and Cherokees in conspiracy with the British against Spain was there in unmistakable words. The paragraphs penned by the Tennessean were puzzling but were explicit in their implication of British Minister Liston and of Capt. John Chisholm, United States agent to the Indians. Blount exhorted Carey to raise native suspicion and hostility against Benjamin Hawkins, present Governor of the Southwest Territory, and against “any other person in the interest of the United States or Spain.” Then, with bold effrontery, Blount directed Carey to spread abroad among the southern Indians an explanation that Washington was responsible for any dissatisfaction they might feel as to their boundary line—that he, Blount, simply had been strapped by instructions.