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Thursday, the thirtieth of April, was the appointed day for Washington to take the oath of office. For almost a fortnight, strangers from every part of the Union had been making their way to New York to participate in the inaugural ceremonies; and every place of public entertainment, and many private houses, were filled to overflowing. “We shall remain here,” wrote a young lady from Philadelphia to her friend, “even if we have to sleep in tents, as so many will have to do. Mr. Williamson had promised to engage us rooms at Fraunces's, but that was jammed long ago, as was every other decent public house; and now, while we are waiting at Mr. Vandervoort's, in Maiden Lane, till after dinner, two of our beaux are running about town, determined to obtain the best places for us to stay at, which can be opened for love, money, or the most persuasive speeches.”[14]

At dawn on the morning of the thirtieth, Colonel Bauman's artillery fired a national salute at the Bowling Green, and very soon afterward the streets were filled with citizens and strangers all dressed for a gala-day. At nine o'clock all the church bells of the city rang out a call for the people to assemble in their respective places of public worship, “to implore the blessings of Heaven on the nation, its favor and protection to the president, and success and acceptance to his administration:” and when the throngs left the churches, martial music enlivened the town, for the military companies were forming into grand procession to escort Washington to the Federal hall in Wall street, at the head of Broad street, where the inaugural ceremonies were to be held.

At twelve o'clock the procession, under the general command of Colonel Morgan Lewis, began to form in Cherry street before the president's house; and at half-past twelve Washington entered his carriage, accompanied by Colonel Humphreys, his aid-de-camp, and Tobias Lear, his private secretary, and proceeded to the Federal hall, escorted by a large number of the military, and followed by heads of departments, members of Congress, foreign ministers, and other distinguished citizens and strangers.

When near the Federal hall, Washington and his attendants alighted from the carriages, and were conducted by a marshall to the senate-chamber, at the door of which the president was received by Vice-President Adams (who had been inaugurated some time before) and conducted to his seat. In the presence of both houses of Congress then assembled, the vice-president, addressing Washington, said: “Sir, the senate and house of representatives of the United States are ready to attend you to take the oath required by the constitution, which will be administered by the chancellor of the state of New York.”

Washington responded: “I am ready to proceed;” when the vice-president, senators, and chancellor, led the way to the open outside gallery at the front of the hall, in full view of the vast multitude that, with upturned faces and hushed voices, filled the streets. The scene that ensued was most solemn and momentous; and the immediate actors in it felt the weight of great responsibility resting upon them.

The entrance of the president upon the balcony “was hailed by universal shouts,” says Washington Irving, who, though quite a young child, was present, and distinctly remembers the scene. “He was evidently moved by this demonstration of public affection. Advancing to the front of the balcony, he laid his hand upon his heart, bowed several times, and then retreated to an arm-chair near the table. The populace appeared to understand that the scene had overcome him, and were hushed at once into profound silence.”[15]

After a few moments Washington rose again and came forward, and stood between two of the supporting pillars of the gallery, in full view of the people. His noble and commanding form was clad in a suit of fine, dark-brown cloth, manufactured in Hartford, Connecticut. At his side was a steel-hilted dress-sword. He wore white silk stockings and plain silver shoe-buckles, and his hair was dressed in the fashion of the time and uncovered. On one side of him stood Chancellor Livingston, who had come out of the Revolution with his soul filled with intense love for his country, and who was one of the most effective orators of his day. “His acknowledged integrity and patriotism,” says Doctor Francis, “doubtless added force to all he uttered. Franklin termed him the American Cicero; and in him were united all those qualities which, according to that illustrious Roman, are necessary in the perfect orator.”[16] He was dressed in a fall suit of black cloth, and wore the robe of office. On the other side was the vice-president, in a claret-colored suit, of American manufacture. Between the president and the chancellor was Mr. Otis, the secretary of state. He was a small man, dressed with scrupulous neatness, and held in his hand an open Bible upon a rich crimson cushion. Near this most conspicuous group stood Roger Sherman, Richard Henry Lee, Alexander Hamilton, Generals Knox and St. Clair, the Baron Steuben, and other distinguished men.

Chancellor Livingston administered the oath with slow and distinct enunciation, while Washington's hand was laid upon the Bible held by Mr. Otis. When it was concluded, the president said, in a distinct voice, “I swear.” He then bowed his head, kissed the sacred volume, and as he assumed an erect posture, he with closed eyes said, with solemn supplicating tone, “So help me God!”

“It is done!” said the chancellor; and, turning to the multitude, he waved his hand, and shouted: “Long live George Washington, president of the United States!” The exclamation was echoed and re-echoed, long and loud, by the people. “The scene,” wrote an eye-witness, “was solemn and awful beyond description.... The circumstances of the president's election, the impression of his past services, the concourse of spectators, the devout fervency with which he repeated the oath, and the reverential manner in which he bowed down and kissed the sacred volume—all these conspired to render it one of the most august and interesting spectacles ever exhibited.” It seemed, from the number of witnesses, to be a solemn appeal to Heaven and earth at once.

At the close of the ceremonies, Washington bowed to the people and retired to the senate chamber, where he read his inaugural address to both houses of Congress there assembled. It was short, direct, and comprehensive. He alluded in a most touching manner to the circumstances which placed him in the position he then held. “On the one hand,” he said, “I was summoned by my country, whose voice I can never hear but with veneration and love, from a retreat which I had chosen with the fondest predilection, and, in my flattering hopes, with an immutable decision, as the asylum of my declining years.... On the other hand, the magnitude and difficulty of the trust to which the voice of my country called me, being sufficient to awaken in the wisest and most experienced of her citizens a distrustful scrutiny into his qualifications, could not but overwhelm with despondence one who, inheriting inferior endowments from nature, and unpractised in the duties of civil administration, ought to be peculiarly conscious of his own deficiencies. In this conflict of emotions, all I dare aver is, that it has been my faithful study to collect my duty from a just appreciation of every circumstance by which it might be affected.”

He expressed his devout gratitude to God for his providential watchfulness over the affairs of his country; declined the exercise of his constitutional duty of recommending measures for the consideration of Congress, not being yet acquainted with the exact state of public affairs, yet called their attention to necessary amendments of the constitution; and concluded by saying:—

“When I was first honored with a call into the service of my country, then on the eve of an arduous struggle for its liberties, the light in which I contemplated my duty required that I should renounce every pecuniary compensation. From this resolution I have in no instance departed; and being still under the impressions that produced it, I must decline, as inapplicable to myself, any share in the personal emoluments which may be indispensably included in a permanent provision for the executive department, and must accordingly pray that the pecuniary estimates for the station in which I am placed may, during my continuance in it, be limited to such actual expenditures as the public good may be thought to require.” To this expression of his disinterested patriotism he added a renewal of grateful acknowledgments to the Father of all, and supplication for further aid, protection, and guidance.

When the delivery of the inaugural address was ended, the president, with the members of both houses of Congress, proceeded to St. Paul's church (where the vestry had provided a pew for his use), and joined in suitable prayers which were offered by Dr. Provost, the lately-ordained bishop of the Protestant Episcopal church in the diocese of New York, and who had been appointed chaplain to the senate. From the church Washington retired to his residence, under the conduct of a committee appointed for that purpose. The people spent the remainder of the day in festal enjoyments, and closed it with fireworks, bonfires, and illuminations.

When the two houses of Congress reassembled, each appointed a committee to prepare a response to the president's inaugural address. Mr. Madison prepared that of the representatives, and it was presented on the eighth of May, in a private room of the Federal hall. “You have long held the first place in the esteem of the American people,” they said; “you have often received tokens of affection; you now possess the only proof that remained of their gratitude for your services, of their reverence for your wisdom, and of their confidence in your virtues; you enjoy the highest, because the truest, honor of being the first magistrate, by the unanimous choice of the freest people on the face of the earth.

“We well know the anxieties with which you have obeyed a summons, from the repose reserved for your declining years, into public scenes, of which you had taken your leave for ever. But the obedience was due to the occasion. It is already applauded by the universal joy which welcomes you to your station; and we can not doubt that it will be rewarded with all the satisfaction with which an ardent love for your fellow-citizens must review successful efforts to promote their happiness.”

After referring to his declaration concerning pecuniary emoluments for his services, they concluded by saying: “All that remains is, that we join in our fervent supplications for the blessings of Heaven on our country, and that we add our own for the choicest of these blessings on the most beloved of her citizens.”

On the eighteenth of May, the entire senate waited upon the president at his own house, to present their response. After congratulating him on the complete organization of the federal government, they said:—

To this Washington replied: “The coincidence of circumstances which led to this auspicious crisis, the confidence reposed in me by my fellow-citizens, and the assistance I may expect from counsels which will he dictated by an enlarged and liberal policy, seem to presage a more prosperous issue to my administration than a diffidence of my abilities had taught me to anticipate, I now feel myself inexpressibly happy in a belief that Heaven, which has done so much for our infant nation, will not withdraw its providential influence before our political felicity shall have been completed; and in a conviction that the senate will, at all times, co-operate in every measure which may tend to promote the welfare of this confederated republic. Thus supported by a firm trust in the Great Arbiter of the universe, aided by the collective wisdom of the Union, and imploring the Divine benediction in our joint exertions in the service of our country, I readily engage with you in the arduous but pleasing task of attempting to make a nation happy.”

It was indeed an arduous task, especially for conscientious men like Washington and his compatriots. The circumstances of the country and the temper of the people demanded the exercise of great wisdom and discretion in trying the experiment of a new form of government, concerning which there was yet a great diversity of sentiment. Doubts, fears, suspicions, jealousies, downright opposition, were all to be encountered. The late conflict of opinions had left many wounds. A large proportion of them were partially healed, others wholly so; but deep scars remained to remind the recipients of the turmoil, and the causes which incited it. Although eleven states had ratified the constitution, yet only three (New York, Delaware, and Georgia) had accepted it by unanimous consent. In others it was ratified by meagre majorities. North Carolina hesitated, and Rhode Island had refused to act upon the matter. The state-rights feeling was still very strong in most of the local legislatures, and many true friends of the constitution doubted whether the general government would have sufficient power to control the actions of the individual states. The great experiment was to be tried by the representatives of the nation while listening to the sad lessons derived from the history of all past republics, and beneath the scrutiny of an active, restless, intelligent, high-spirited people, who were too fond of liberty to brook any great resistance to their inclinations, especially if they seemed to be coincident with the spirit of the Revolution.

The republic to be governed was spread over a vast territory, with an ocean front of fifteen hundred miles, and an inland frontier of three times that extent. Cultivation and permanent settlements formed but a sea-selvedge of this domain; for beyond the Alleghanies but comparatively few footsteps of civilized man had yet trodden. In the valleys of the Ohio, Kentucky, and Tennessee, empires were budding; but where half the states of the Union now flourish the solitude of the wilderness yet reigned supreme.

Could the regions beyond the Alleghanies have remained so, there would have been less cause for anxiety; but over those barriers a flood of emigration had begun to flow, broad and resistless; and during the first years of Washington's administration those wilds became populated with a hardy race, who found upon the bosom of the Mississippi a grand highway for carrying the products of their fertile soil to the markets of the world.

That great river was controlled by the Spaniards seated at its mouth, who, in traditions, race, and aspirations, had no affinity with the people of the new republic. They sat there as a barrier between the settlers and the sea; and even before Washington left his home on the Potomac, conflicting rumors had reached him respecting the impatience of the western settlers because of that barrier. They had urged the Congress of the Confederation to open it by treaty, but that Congress was too feeble to comply. Now one tongue of rumor said that they would soon organize an expedition to capture New Orleans; another tongue asserted that the Spaniards, aided by British emissaries, were intriguing with leading men in the great valleys to effect a separation of the Union, and an attachment of the western portion to the crown of Spain. These things gave Washington and his co-workers great uneasiness.

Another cause for anxiety was the refusal of Great Britain to give up some of the frontier forts, in compliance with an article of the definitive treaty of peace of 1783, on the plea that the United States had violated another article of the same treaty in allowing the debts due to British subjects, which had been contracted before the war, to remain unpaid. This was regarded by the Americans as a mere pretext to cover a more important interest, namely, the monopoly of the fur-trade with the Indians. It was alleged, also, that the hostile attitude toward the United States then lately assumed by several of the western tribes was caused by the mischievous influence of the British officers who held those posts, and their emissaries among the savages.

At the same time, the finances of the country were in a most deplorable state. A heavy domestic and foreign debt presented importunate creditors at the door of government; the treasury was empty; public credit was utterly prostrated, and every effort of the late government to fund the public debt had failed.

The foreign commerce of the country, owing to the feebleness of the Confederation, was in a most unsatisfactory condition. The conduct of the British government in relation to trade with the United States had been, since the conclusion of the war, not only ungenerous, but insolent and oppressive; and at the same time, the corsairs of the Barbary powers on the southern shores of the Mediterranean sea, whose princes were fattening upon the spoils of piracy, were marauding upon American merchant-vessels with impunity, and carrying the crews into slavery.

The younger Pitt, in 1783, had proposed a scheme in the British parliament for the temporary regulation of commercial intercourse with the United States, the chief feature of which was the free admission into the West India ports of American vessels laden with the products of American industry; the West India people to be allowed, in turn, like free trade with the United States. But the ideas of the old and unwise navigation laws, out of which had grown the most serious dispute between the colonies and the mother-country twenty-five years before, yet prevailed in the British legislature. Pitts's proposition was rejected; and an order soon went forth from the privy council for the entire exclusion of American vessels from West India ports, and prohibiting the importation thither of the several products of the United States, even in British bottoms.

Notwithstanding this unwise and narrow policy was put in force, Mr. Adams, the American minister at the court of St. James, proposed, in 1785, to place the navigation and trade between all the dominions of the British crown and all the territories of the United States upon a basis of perfect reciprocity. This generous offer was not only declined, but the minister was haughtily assured that no other would be entertained. Mr. Adams immediately recommended his government to pass navigation acts for the benefit of its commerce; but the Confederation had not power or vitality sufficient to take action. Some of the states attempted to legislate upon commercial matters, and the subject of duties for revenue; but their efforts were fruitless, except in discovering the necessity of a strong central power, and putting in motion causes which led to the formation of the federal government.

The earliest efforts of the new government, as we shall perceive presently, were directed to the maturing of schemes for imposing discriminating duties; and the eyes of British legislators were soon opened to the fact that American commerce was no longer at the mercy of thirteen distinct legislative bodies, nor subject to foreign control. They perceived the importance of the American trade, and of a reciprocity in trade between the two countries. They perceived, also, that the interests of American commerce were guarded and its strength nurtured by a central power of great energy; and very soon a committee of parliament submitted a proposition, asking the United States to consent to a commercial arrangement precisely such as had been offered by Mr. Adams a few years before, and rejected with disdain.

Thus we perceive that, at the very outset, subjects of vast interest connected with domestic and foreign affairs—the preservation of the Union, the allaying of discontents, the liquidation of the public debt, the replenishment of the treasury, the integrity of treaties, the conciliation of hostile Indian tribes, the regulation and protection of commerce, the encouragement of trade, the creation of a revenue, the establishment of an independent national character, and the founding of a wise policy for the government—presented themselves in stern array to the mind of Washington, and almost overwhelmed him, by the magnitude of their proportions, with a sense of his impotence in giving general direction to the vast labors to be performed. He had few precedents as an executive officer to guide him, and no experience as the chief of civil affairs. “I walk, as it were, upon untrodden ground,” he said; but, like a wise man, he asked counsel of those upon whose judgment he could rely.

At that moment the president was without constitutional advisers. Executive departments had not yet been organized; but in John Jay as secretary for foreign affairs, in General Knox as secretary of war, in Samuel Osgood, Walter Livingston, and Arther Lee, as controllers of the treasury—all of whom had been appointed by the old Congress—he found men of large experience, enlightened views, sturdy integrity, and sound judgment. With these, and Madison and Hamilton, Sherman and Chancellor Livingston, and other personal friends, Washington commenced with courage the great task before him.