These and similar articles excited the public indignation to the highest endurable pitch; and Bache, the publisher of the Aurora, was severely beaten, when, a few days afterward, he, with some friends, visited the frigate United States, then on the stocks at the Philadelphia navy-yard. A son of the contractor gave the flagellation. The public clamor became so great, that Bache, in mortal fear of further personal violence, thought it prudent to state, in his paper, that Doctor Lieb's article was not written by the editor, but came from a correspondent.

FOOTNOTES:

[111] History of the United States, Second Series, i., 703.

[112] Journals of Congress, February 8, 1797.

[113] Letter of Honorable James Iredell to his wife, February 24, 1797.

[114] The following is Washington's description of the letters:—

"New York, June 12th, 1776. To Mr. Lund Washington, at Mount Vernon, Fairfax county, Virginia.—G. W."

"To John Parke Custis, Esq., at the Hon. Benedict Calvert's, Esq., Mount Airy, Maryland, June 18th, 1776.—GEORGE WASHINGTON."

"New York, July 8th, 1776. To Mr. Lund Washington, at Mt. Vernon, Fairfax county, Virginia.—G. W."

"New York, July 15, 1776. To Mr. Lund Washington.—G. W."

"New York, July 16, 1776. To Mr. Lund Washington.—G. W."

"New York, July 22d, 1776. To Mr. Lund Washington—G. W."

"June 24th, 1776. To Mrs. Washington.—G. W."

[115] Mrs. Susan R. Echard, daughter of Colonel Read, now (1860) living in Philadelphia, at the age of eighty-four years. The venerable Rembrandt Peale, of the same city, who, two years before, painted Washington's portrait from life, and now in his eighty-third year, was also present in the gallery on that occasion, and his recollection agrees with that of Mrs. Echard.

[116] Craik.

[117] Harrison.

[118] Custis.

[119] Lewis.

[120] It was in the form of a "Letter to George Washington, President of the United States." Dwight was a violent republican, and an uncompromising advocate for the immediate and total abolition of slavery in the United States. Because Washington was a slaveholder, he considered him extremely vulnerable on that point, and in his "Letter" he twice alludes to the fact.

"Had the French Revolution," he said, "commenced ten years later, or you retired to the shades of Mount Vernon four years ago, the friends of public virtue would still proudly boast of one great man free from the breath of public dispraise, and your fondly partial country, forbearing to inquire whether or not you were chargeable with mental aberrations, would vaunt in you this possession of the phoenix." After making strictures on the events of the past four years, he said: "Would to God! you had retired to a private station four years ago, while your public conduct threw a veil of sanctity round you, which you have yourself rashly broken down. Your fame would have been safe, your country without reproach, and I should not have the mortifying task of pointing out the blind temerity with which you come forward to defend the religion of Christ, who exist in the violation of its most sacred obligations, of the dearest ties of humanity, and in defiance of the sovereign calls of morality and liberty—by dealing in HUMAN SLAVES." Again, after asserting that "posterity will in vain search for the monuments of wisdom" in his administration, he says they will, on inquiry, find that had he obtained promotion, as he expected, for the services rendered after Braddock's defeat, his sword would have been drawn against his country; and that they would discover "that the great champion of American freedom, the rival of Timoleon and Cincinnatus, twenty years after the establishment of the republic, was possessed of FIVE HUNDRED of the HUMAN SPECIES IN SLAVERY, enjoying the fruits of their labor without remuneration, or even the consolations of religious instruction—that he retained the barbarous usages of the feudal system, and kept men in livery—and that he still affected to be the friend of the Christian religion, of civil liberty, and moral equality—and to be, withal, a disinterested, virtuous, liberal, and unassuming man."



CHAPTER XXXVII.

WASHINGTON LEAVES PHILADELPHIA FOR MOUNT VERNON—RECEIVES HONORS BY THE WAY—HIS ARRIVAL HOME—HIS ENJOYMENT OF PRIVATE LIFE—LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS—HIS OWN PICTURE OF HIS DAILY LIFE—ENTERTAINMENT OF STRANGERS BURDENSOME—INVITES HIS NEPHEW TO MOUNT VERNON—NELLY CUSTIS AND HER SUITORS—WASHINGTON'S LETTER TO HER—LAWRENCE LEWIS PREFERRED—WASHINGTON'S DREAM OF PERMANENT REPOSE DISTURBED BY A GATHERING STORM—EARLY ASSOCIATIONS RECALLED—AGAIN SUMMONED INTO PUBLIC LIFE.

Washington left Philadelphia for Mount Vernon on the ninth of March, a private citizen and a happy man. He was accompanied by Mrs. Washington and her grand-daughter, Eleanor Parke Custis; and by George Washington Lafayette and his preceptor, M. Frestel, whose arrival and residence in the United States we have already noticed. George Washington Parke Custis, the brother of Eleanor, or "Nelly," as she was familiarly called, was then in college at Princeton, where he had been for several months. The letters which have been preserved by the Custis family, of the correspondence between Washington and that adopted son, during the college life of the latter, are very interesting, and exhibit the Father of his Country in a light in which he is not viewed by history in her delineation of him, namely, as the father of a talented but wayward boy.

Ever desirous of giving words of encouragement and the meed of praise to the deserving, Washington handed to young Bartholomew Dandridge, his private secretary, on the morning of his departure for Mount Vernon, the following letter:—

"Your conduct, during a six years' residence in my family, having been such as to meet my full approbation, and believing that a declaration to this effect would be satisfactory to yourself, and justice requiring it from me, I make it with pleasure, and in full confidence that those principles of honor, integrity, and benevolence, which I have reason to believe have hitherto guided your steps, will still continue to mark your conduct. I have only to add a wish, that you may lose no opportunity of making such advances in useful acquirements as may benefit yourself, your friends, and mankind; and I am led to anticipate an accomplishment of this wish, when I consider the manner in which you have hitherto improved such occasions as offered themselves to you.

"The career of life on which you are now entering, will present new scenes and frequent opportunities for the improvement of a mind desirous of obtaining useful knowledge; but I am sure you will never forget that, without virtue and without integrity, the finest talents and the most brilliant accomplishments can never gain the respect, or conciliate the esteem, of the truly valuable part of mankind."

On his journey to the Potomac, the retired president received every mark of respect, love, and veneration, from the people. "Last evening," said a Baltimore paper of the thirteenth of March, "arrived in this city, on his way to Mount Vernon, the illustrious object of veneration and gratitude, GEORGE WASHINGTON. His excellency was accompanied by his lady and Miss Custis, and by the son of the unfortunate Lafayette and his preceptor. At a distance from the city he was met by a crowd of citizens, on horse and foot, who thronged the road to greet him, and by a detachment of Captain Hollingsworth's troop, who escorted him through as great a concourse of people as Baltimore ever witnessed. On alighting at the Fountain Inn, the general was saluted with reiterated and thundering huzzas from the spectators."[121]

"The attentions we met with on our journey," wrote Washington to Mr. M'Henry, the secretary of war, "were very flattering, and by some, whose minds are differently formed from mine, would have been highly relished; but I avoided, in every instance, when I had any previous knowledge of the intention, and could by earnest entreaties prevail, all parade and escorts." He seldom succeeded, for intelligence of his approach went before him, and citizens and soldiers hastened to do homage to the great Patriot and Chief.

Washington arrived at Mount Vernon on the evening of the fourteenth of March. Never did the threshold of his mansion receive a happier man. The servants flocked around him like children come to greet a returning father, and there was joy in the household and all over the estate of Mount Vernon. The master fairly revelled in the luxury of private life and the repose of domestic enjoyment. Yet he did not sit down, an idle man and indifferent spectator of passing events. "Let me pray you to have the goodness," he wrote to Mr. M'Henry, "to communicate to me occasionally such matters as are interesting, and not contrary to the rules of your official duty to disclose. We get so many details in the gazettes, and of such different complexions, that it is impossible to know what credence to give to any of them."

Now, escaped from the turmoils of politics, Washington resolved to cast the burden of speculations concerning them from his mind. During almost his entire administration, the politics of France had been a constant source of anxiety to him, and had given him more real vexation, directly and indirectly, than all other matters of his public life combined. "The conduct of the French government," he now wrote, "is so much beyond calculation, and so unaccountable upon any principle of justice, or even of that sort of policy which is familiar to plain understandings, that I shall not now puzzle my brains in attempting to develop the motives of it."

To Oliver Wolcott he wrote in May: "For myself, having turned aside from the broad walks of political into the narrow paths of private life, I shall leave it with those whose duty it is to consider subjects of this sort [the calling of an extraordinary session of Congress], and, as every good citizen ought to do, conform to whatsoever the ruling powers shall decide. To make and sell a little flour annually, to repair houses (going fast to ruin), to build one for the security of my papers of a public nature, and to amuse myself in agricultural and rural pursuits, will constitute employment for the few years I have to remain on this terrestrial globe. If, also, I could now and then meet the friends I esteem, it would fill the measure and add zest to my enjoyments; but if ever this happens, it must be under my own vine and fig-tree."

Washington was not unsocial, yet he loved to be away from the great gathering-places of men and the tumults of public life. He loved his friends warmly; and those for whom he had a thorough esteem—a friendship based upon the perception of genuine qualities of head and heart that made them trustworthy—were always most welcome to his retreat on the banks of the Potomac. With such friends he kept up a cordial correspondence; and in many of his letters, immediately after his retirement, he spoke of his domestic employments and pleasures. "Retired from noise myself," he wrote to General Heath, "and the responsibility attached to public employment, my hours will glide smoothly on. My best wishes, however, for the prosperity of our country, will always have the first place in my thoughts; while to repair buildings, and to cultivate my farms, which require close attention, will occupy the few years, perhaps days, I may be a sojourner here, as I am now in the sixty-sixth year of my peregrinations through life."

To Secretary M'Henry he wrote, in joyous mood, at the close of May: "I am indebted to you for several unacknowledged letters; but never mind that: go on as if you had answers. You are at the source of information, and can find many things to relate; while I have nothing to say that would either inform or amuse a secretary of war in Philadelphia.

"I might tell that I begin my diurnal course with the sun; that, if my hirelings are not in their places at that time, I send them messages of sorrow for their indisposition; that, having put these wheels in motion, I examine the state of things further; that, the more they are probed, the deeper I find the wounds which my buildings have sustained by an absence and neglect of eight years; that, by the time I have accomplished these matters, breakfast (a little after seven o'clock, about the time I suppose you are taking leave of Mrs. M'Henry) is ready; that, this being over, I mount my horse and ride round my farms, which employ me until it is time to dress for dinner, at which I rarely miss seeing strange faces—come, as they say, out of respect for me. Pray, would not the word curiosity answer as well? And how different this from having a few social friends at a cheerful board! The usual time of sitting at table, a walk, and tea, bring me within the dawn of candlelight; previous to which, if not prevented by company, I resolve that, as soon as the glimmering taper supplies the place of the great luminary, I will retire to my writing-table and acknowledge the letters I have received; but, when the lights are brought, I feel tired, and disinclined to engage in this work, conceiving that the next will do as well. The next night comes, and with it the same causes for postponement, and so on.

"This will account for your letters remaining so long unacknowledged; and, having given you the history of a day, it will serve for a year, and I am persuaded you will not require a second edition of it. But it may strike you that, in this detail, no mention is made of any portion of time allotted for reading. The remark would be just, for I have not looked into a book since I came home; nor shall I be able to do it until I have discharged my workmen, probably not before the nights grow longer, when possibly I may be looking in Doomsday-Book."

Washington soon became wearied with the continual visits of strangers, to which he alluded in his letter to Mr. M'Henry, and he resolved to adopt some plan of relief that should be consistent with the most genuine hospitality. He had an accomplished and favorite nephew, Lawrence Lewis, son of his sister Elizabeth. He invited him to make Mount Vernon his home, and to assume the duties of entertainer of company when the master should desire repose. "As both your aunt and I," he said, in his letter of invitation, "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 (fit and proper) to ease me of the trouble of entertaining company, particularly of nights, as it is my inclination to retire (and, unless prevented by very particular company, I always do retire), either to bed or to my study, soon after candlelight. In taking those duties (which hospitality obliges me to bestow on company) off my hands, it would render me a very acceptable service."[122]

Young Lewis accepted his uncle's invitation with pleasure, for he loved the society of such as he knew he should meet at Mount Vernon. There was also a charmer there for young men, in the person of Nelly Custis, a gay, beautiful, and accomplished girl of eighteen years, who was the life of a social party, and a beam of sunshine in the family circle. As his adopted daughter, Washington had watched over her with parental solicitude. Tradition says that he frequently inculcated the most valuable precepts when talking seriously with her; and in his most playful mood would give her words of wisdom that took root in her mind and heart. This fact is so well exhibited in the following letter of his, written to Nelly, when she was about sixteen years of age, that we give it entire. It was on the occasion of her first attendance at a ball, an account of which she had given him in a letter:—

"PHILA., January 16, 1795.

"Your letter, the receipt of which I am now acknowledging, is written correctly and in fair characters, which is an evidence that you command, when you please, a fair hand. Possessed of these advantages, it will be your own fault if you do not avail yourself of them; and, attention being paid to the choice of your subjects, you can have nothing to fear from the malignancy of criticism, as your ideas are lively, and your descriptions agreeable. Let me touch a little now on your Georgetown ball; and happy, thrice happy, for the fair who were assembled on the occasion, that there was a man to spare; for had there been seventy-nine ladies and only seventy-eight gentlemen, there might, in the course of the evening, have been some disorder among the caps, notwithstanding the apathy which one of the company entertains for the 'youth' of the present day, and her determination 'never to give herself a moment's uneasiness on account of any of them.' A hint here: men and women feel the same inclinations to each other now that they always have done, and which they will continue to do until there is a new order of things; and you, as others have done, may find, perhaps, that the passions of your sex are easier raised than allayed. Do not, therefore, boast too soon or too strongly of your insensibility to, or resistance of, its powers. In the composition of the human frame there is a good deal of inflammable matter, however dormant it may lie for a time, and like an intimate acquaintance of yours, when the torch is put to it, that which is within you may burst into a blaze; for which reason, and especially, too, as I have entered upon the chapter of advices, I will read you a lecture drawn from this text.

"Love is said to be an involuntary passion, and it is therefore contended that it can not be resisted. This is true in part only, for, like all things else, when nourished and supplied plentifully with aliment, it is rapid in its progress; but let these be withdrawn, and it may be stifled in its birth, or much stinted in its growth. For example, a woman (the same may be said of the other sex) all beautiful and accomplished, will, while her hand and heart are undisposed of, turn the heads and set the circle in which she moves on fire. Let her marry, and what is the consequence? The madness ceases, and all is quiet again. Why? Not because there is any diminution in the charms of the lady, but because there is an end of hope. Hence it follows that love may and therefore ought to be under the guidance of reason; for, although we can not avoid first impressions, we may assuredly place them under guard: and my motives for treating on this subject are to show you, while you remain Eleanor Parke Custis, spinster, and retain the resolution to love with moderation, the propriety of adhering to the latter resolution, at least until you have secured your game, and the way by which it may be accomplished.

"When the fire is beginning to kindle, and your heart growing warm, propound these questions to it: 'Who is this invader? Have I a competent knowledge of him? Is he a man of good character? a man of sense?' For, be assured, a sensible woman can never be happy with a fool. 'What has been his walk of life? Is he a gambler, a spendthrift, or drunkard? Is his fortune sufficient to maintain me in the manner I have been accustomed to live, and my sisters do live, and is he one to whom my friends can have no reasonable objection?' If these interrogatories can be satisfactorily answered, there will remain but one more to be asked; that, however, is an important one, 'Have I sufficient ground to conclude that his affections are engaged by me?' Without this, the heart of sensibility will struggle against a passion that is not reciprocated—delicacy, custom, or call it by what epithet you will, having precluded all advances on your part. The declaration, without the most indirect invitation of yours, must proceed from the man, to render it permanent and valuable; and nothing short of good sense and an easy, unaffected conduct, can draw the line between prudery and coquetry. It would be no great departure from truth to say that it rarely happens otherwise than that a thorough-paced coquette dies in celibacy, as a punishment for her attempts to mislead others, by encouraging looks, words, or actions, given for no other purpose than to draw men on to make overtures, that they may be rejected.

"This day, according to our information, gives a husband to your elder sister, and consummates, it is to be presumed, her fondest desires. The dawn with us is bright, and propitious, I hope, of her future happiness, for a full measure of which she and Mr. Law have my earnest wishes. Compliments and congratulations on this occasion, and best regards are presented to your mamma, Doctor Stuart, and family; and every blessing—among which a good husband, when you want and deserve one—is bestowed on you by yours, affectionately."[123]

Young Lewis found a rival in the person of a son of the eminent Charles Carroll, of Carrollton, whose suit was decidedly encouraged by Mrs. Washington. This young man had just returned from Europe, where he had been educated; and he displayed in his deportment and conversation all the social graces derived from foreign travel. Nelly was also pleased with the young man; and her brother, then at school in Annapolis, could not conceal his satisfaction. So he ventured to say, in a letter to Washington: "I find that young Mr. C—— has been at Mount Vernon, and, report says, to address my sister. It may be well to subjoin an opinion, which I believe is general in this place, viz., that he is a young man of the strictest probity and morals, discreet without closeness, temperate without excess, and modest without vanity; possessed of those amiable qualities and friendship which are so commendable, and with few of the vices of the age. In short, I think it a most desirable match, and wish that it may take place with all my heart."

Washington relished neither the interference of the suitor with his nephew's "current of true love," nor the volunteer opinion of Nelly's brother; and he abruptly closed the correspondence on the subject with young Custis, by saying: "Young Mr. C—— came here about a fortnight ago, to dinner, and left us next morning after breakfast. If his object was such as you say has been reported, it was not declared here; and therefore the less is said upon the subject, particularly by your sister's friends, the more prudent it will be until the subject develops itself more."

Other suitors appeared at that time, and the assaults made upon the young lady's heart seem to have given Washington and his wife much anxiety. "I was young and romantic then," she said to a lady, from whose lips Mr. Irving has quoted[124]—"I was young and romantic then, and fond of wandering alone by moonlight in the woods of Mount Vernon. Grandmamma thought it wrong and unsafe, and scolded and coaxed me into a promise that I would not wander in the woods again unaccompanied. But I was missing one evening, and was brought home from the interdicted woods to the drawing-room, where the general was walking up and down with his hands behind him, as was his wont. Grandmamma, seated in her great arm-chair, opened a severe reproof."

"Poor Miss Nelly," says Mr. Irving, "was reminded of her promise, and taxed with her delinquency. She knew that she had done wrong, admitted her fault, and essayed no excuse; but, when there was a slight pause, moved to retire from the room. She was just shutting the door, when she overheard the general attempting, in a low voice, to intercede in her behalf. 'My dear,' observed he, 'I would say no more: perhaps she was not alone.'

"His intercession stopped Miss Nelly in her retreat. She reopened the door, and advanced up to the general with a firm step. 'Sir,' said she, 'you brought me up to speak the truth; and when I told grandmamma I was alone, I hope you believed I was alone.'

"The general made one of his most magnanimous bows. 'My child,' replied he, 'I beg your pardon.'"

As we shall observe presently, Lawrence Lewis triumphed in his suit over all competitors, and the beautiful Nelly Custis became his bride.

Without the least suspicion that his sweet dream of repose in the bosom of his family, amid the quiet scenes of rural life, would ever be disturbed while he lived, Washington now applied himself to the repairs of his buildings, and the general improvement of his estate. "At the age of sixty-five," he wrote to the earl of Radnor, "I am now recommencing my agricultural and rural pursuits, which were always more congenial to my temper and disposition than the noise and bustle of public employments; notwithstanding so small a portion of my life has been engaged in the former."

To the Reverend William Gordon he wrote: "Rural employments, while I am spared—which, in the natural course of things, can not be long—will now take the place of toil, responsibility, and the solicitude attending the walks of public life; and with a desire for the peace, happiness, and prosperity of a country, in whose service the prime of my life has been spent, and with best wishes for the tranquillity of all nations and all men, the scene to me will close—grateful to that Providence which has directed my steps, and shielded me in the various changes and chances through which I have passed from my youth to the present moment."

And now, too, the associations of his earlier life, when he was a farmer at Mount Vernon, brought pleasing pictures of the past to his memory, and he seemed to yearn for a renewal of those social pleasures which had been the delight of his young manhood. To Mrs. Fairfax, in England, who had resided at ruined Belvoir, and had been a beloved member of the society of that neighborhood, he wrote, in May, 1798:—

"Five-and-twenty years have nearly passed away since I have considered myself as permanently residing at this place, or have been in a situation to indulge myself in a familiar intercourse with my friends by letter or otherwise. During this period, so many important events have occurred, and such changes in men and things have taken place, as the compass of a letter would give you but an inadequate idea of; none of which events, however, nor all of them together, have been able to eradicate from my mind the recollection of those happy moments, the happiest of my life, which I have enjoyed in your company.

"Worn out in a manner by the toils of my past labor, I am again seated under my vine and fig-tree, and I wish I could add that there are none to make us afraid; but those whom we have been accustomed to call our friends and allies are endeavoring, if not to make us afraid, yet to despoil us of our property, and are provoking us to acts of self-defence which may lead to war. What will be the result of such measures, time, that faithful expositor of all things, must disclose. My wish is to spend the remainder of my days, which can not be many, in rural amusements, free from the cares from which public responsibility is never exempt.

"Before the war, and even while it existed, although I was eight years from home at one stretch, except the en-passant visits made to it on my marches to and from the siege of Yorktown, I made considerable additions to my dwellinghouse, and alterations in my offices and gardens; but the dilapidation occasioned by time, and those neglects which are coextensive with the absence of proprietors, have occupied as much of my time within the last twelve months, in repairing them, as at any former period in the same space; and it is a matter of sore regret, when I cast my eyes toward Belvoir, which I often do, to reflect that the former inhabitants of it, with whom we lived in such harmony and friendship, no longer reside there, and that the ruins can only be viewed as the memento of former pleasures."

But, at the very time when he wrote this letter, the clouds of difficulty between the United States and France were thickening; a storm of war was evidently brewing, and the mutterings of the thunder were becoming more and more audible. In that hour of gloom, when the billows were beating heavily upon the ship of state, and the hurricane began to howl, his countrymen, remembering the faith, and fortitude, and courage, and skill, of their venerated pilot for eight years of commotion, turned anxious eyes and more anxious hearts toward Mount Vernon, wishing to call him from his retirement to face once more the enemies of their country; yet tenderly hesitating, because they loved him too well to disturb unnecessarily the needed repose he was then enjoying. A crisis came; dangers thickened on every side, and the united voices of his countrymen again called Washington into public life.

FOOTNOTES:

[121] Sparks's Life and Writings of Washington, xi. 197, note.

[122] MS. letter quoted by Irving, v. 276.

[123] Recollections and Private Memoirs of Washington, by George Washington Parke Custis, page 41. Washington wrote many other letters to his sprightly foster-child, but they have been lost or destroyed. These serve to show how his comprehensive mind had moments of thought and action to bestow on all connected with him, and how deeply his affections were interested in the family of his wife, who were cared for as if they were his own. They were written at a time when the cares of state, as president of the republic, were pressing heavily upon him.

[124] Life of Washington, v. 279.



CHAPTER XXXVIII.

PROSPERITY OF THE UNITED STATES—TROUBLES WITH FRANCE CONTINUED—INDIGNITIES OFFERED TO MR. PINCKNEY—MONROE'S LEAVE-TAKING—INSULTING SPEECH OF THE PRESIDENT OF THE FRENCH DIRECTORY—PINCKNEY LEAVES PARIS—SPECIAL SESSION OF CONGRESS—PRESIDENT ADAMS'S MESSAGE—HIS RECOMMENDATIONS—WASHINGTON'S SOLICITUDE—CHANGES IN PUBLIC SENTIMENT—ACTION OF CONGRESS—SPECIAL ENVOYS SENT TO FRANCE—WASHINGTON'S OPINIONS CONCERNING THE EMBASSY AND THE CHANCES OF WAR—LANGHORNE'S CORRESPONDENCE—JEFFERSON'S POSITION—LAFAYETTE'S RELEASE—ROCHAMBEAU.

Washington retired from the chair of state at a time when his country was enjoying the highest degree of prosperity. Through the wisdom of Hamilton and the firmness of the president, a sound credit at home had been created, and an immense floating debt funded in a manner perfectly satisfactory to the creditors, and to all except ignorant or unscrupulous partisans. An ample revenue was provided for; all difficulties which a system of internal taxation is liable to encounter at the outset, had been removed; and the authority of and thorough respect for the federal government were firmly established. Means had been provided for the gradual extinguishment of the public debt; a large portion of it had been actually discharged; and a system, which had finally brought about an almost entire extinction of it when the war of 1812 broke out, had been matured. The agricultural and commercial wealth of the nation had increased beyond all former example; and the numerous Indian tribes, warlike and hostile, that inhabited the western frontiers and the immense country beyond, even to the west of the Mississippi, had been taught, by sad experience, the folly of opposing the power of the United States, and were then at peace with them.

The foreign relations of the United States were in a condition more desirable than at any time since the establishment of the government, except in regard to France. The differences with Spain had been adjusted; the free navigation of the Mississippi had been acquired; and the use of New Orleans as a commercial depot, for a specific time, had been secured. The causes which, at one time, threatened a war between the United States and Great Britain, had been removed by diplomacy; and the military posts on the frontier, which served as nuclei of Indian hostilities, had passed into the possession of the government of the United States. Treaties not perfectly satisfactory, but nevertheless advantageous by comparison with the past, had been made with Algiers and Tripoli; and as Tunisian corsairs had never depredated upon American commerce, the Mediterranean sea was now opened to the mercantile marine of the United States.

Such, in brief outline, were the condition and position of the United States, when Washington retired from public life; yet over the bright future, discerned by the eye of faith, hung an ominous cloud, growing blacker and blacker every day. France, haughty, imperious, dictatorial, and ungenerous, had severed with ruthless hand the bond of friendship between itself and the United States, and had cut the tether of legal restraint which kept her corsairs from depredating upon American commerce. Her course, unjust and unwise, indicated inevitable war, unless she should draw back, for peace with her could not be maintained with honor upon terms which her insolence dictated. Her government had declared, on the recall of Monroe, that no other minister from the United States should be received until that power should fully redress the grievances of which the republic complained; and Pinckney, whose letter of credence declared that he had been sent "to maintain that good understanding which, from the commencement of the alliance, had subsisted between the two nations, and to efface unfounded impressions, banish suspicions, and restore that cordiality which was at once the evidence and pledge of a friendly union," was not received.

Pinckney was not only denied a reception, but was ordered to quit the territory of France. He claimed the right to a passport and safe escort, but these were denied, while measures for his expulsion were not put into operation. In that position he remained some time. Meanwhile, Monroe, unmindful of the insult offered to his country in the person of its accredited representative, instead of leaving France indignantly himself, consented to play a part in another scene more unworthy of him than that enacted at his reception. The Directory, evidently for the purpose of treating the United States government with contempt, decreed a formal audience to Monroe, to present his letters of recall and to take his leave. On that occasion, Monroe warmly acknowledged "the important services rendered by France to America;" congratulated the republic on its victories, and the excellence of its constitution; and expressed his earnest wishes that a close union and perfect harmony might exist between the two governments.

To this the president of the Directory responded in pompous and high-sounding words. "Minister plenipotentiary of the United States," he said, "by presenting this day to the executive Directory your letter of recall, you offer a very strange spectacle to Europe. Rich in her freedom, surrounded by the train of her victories, strong in the esteem of her allies, France will not stoop to calculate the consequences of the condescension of the American government to the wishes of its ancient tyrants. The French republic expects, however, that the successors of Columbus, Raleigh, and Penn, always proud of their liberty, will never forget that they owe it to France. They will weigh in their wisdom the magnanimous friendship of the French people with the crafty caresses of perfidious men, who meditate to bring them again under their former yoke. Assure the good people of America, Mr. Minister, that, like them, we admire liberty; that they will always possess our esteem, and find in the French people that republican generosity which knows how to grant peace as well as how to cause its sovereignty to be respected. As for you, Mr. Minister Plenipotentiary, you have ever battled for principles; you have known the true interests of your country Depart with our regret. We restore in you a representative to America; we preserve the remembrance of a citizen whose personal qualities did honor to that title."

Toward the close of January, 1798, Pinckney was notified that, having resided in Paris nearly two months without special permission, he was amenable to law. He immediately applied for and obtained his passports, and on the third of February he departed for Holland, whence he sent despatches to his government, presenting the state of his mission. They were received on the twenty-fifth of March, and produced much excitement. The indignities to which the United States minister had been subjected, and the continued capture of American merchant-vessels by French privateers, some of them commanded by Americans, caused President Adams to issue a proclamation, convening the Congress in special session on the fifteenth of May.

A change in public opinion was now perceptible. The people began to understand the real character and designs of the French, the chief of which was to sow the seeds of bitter discord between the government and the people of the United States—a task in which Genet and Adet zealously labored. "The speech of the president of the Directory," said Adams, in his opening address to the Congress, "discloses sentiments more alarming than the refusal of a minister, because more dangerous to our independence and union; and, at the same time, studiously marked with indignities toward the United States. It evinces a disposition to separate the people from their government; to persuade them that they have different affections, principles, and interests, from those of their fellow-citizens whom they themselves have chosen to manage their common concerns, and thus to produce divisions fatal to our peace. Such attempts ought to be repelled with a decision which shall convince France and the world that we are not a degraded people, humiliated under a colonial spirit of fear, and sense of inferiority, fitted to be the miserable instruments of foreign influence, and regardless of national honor, character, and interest....

"I should have been happy," he continued, "to throw a veil over the late transactions of the French government, if it had been possible to conceal them; but they have passed on the great theatre of the world, in the face of all Europe and America, and with such circumstances of publicity and solemnity that they can not be disguised, and will not soon be forgotten."

Mr. Adams then expressed his sincere desire for reconciliation with France, and announced his intention to institute a fresh attempt at negotiation for that object; but he recommended the Congress to provide, meanwhile, effectual measures for defence, especially in the increase and strengthening of the navy.

From his retirement, Washington looked out upon the moving panorama of national affairs with great solicitude. He took a lively interest in all that was passing, in which the welfare of his country was involved. "It remains to be seen," he said in a letter to Thomas Pinckney, lately arrived from Europe, "whether our country will stand upon independent ground, or be directed in its political concerns by any other nation. A little time will show who are its true friends, or, what is synonymous, who are true Americans.... The president's speech will, I conceive, draw forth, mediately or immediately, an expression of the public mind; and, as it is the right of the people that this should be carried into effect, their sentiments ought to be unequivocally known, that the principles on which the government has acted, and which, from the president's speech, are likely to be continued, may either be changed, or the opposition, that is endeavoring to embarrass every measure of the executive, may meet effectual discountenance. Things can not and 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; for it is not only injurious to us, but disgraceful also, that a government constituted as ours is should be administered contrary to their interests, if the fact be so."

Public sentiment had now begun to assume a character coincident with that expressed by Washington. Because of the failure of Jefferson to be elected president of the United States, the French Directory signified their disapprobation and resentment, by issuing a decree against American commerce, equal in its effects to the worst practices of the British cruisers in their impressment of seamen, and seizure of vessels and goods of neutrals. It was intended by the French to be little short of a declaration of war. These outrages and insults of the French Directory had a powerful effect in arresting the fanaticism in regard to France that had so long prevailed; while the Aurora and other democratic newspapers, not daring, in the face of public opinion, to justify them, attempted to cast all the blame upon Jay's treaty.

The Congress moved with caution in carrying out the recommendations of the president. There was a decided federal majority in each branch of the national legislature, and both houses responded to the president's speech in terms of approval. Several members, who had usually acted with the opposition, voted in favor of resolutions for supporting the honor of the country; and the senate, by unanimous vote, confirmed the nomination, by the president, of Charles Cotesworth Pinckney, Elbridge Gerry, and John Marshall, as special envoys to the French republic, clothed with ample powers. They were to act jointly and severally as ministers plenipotentiary, the object of their mission being, as the president expressed it, to "dissipate umbrages, remove prejudices, rectify errors, and adjust all differences, by a treaty between the two powers."

While the president and Congress were making these peaceful provisions for maintaining a good understanding, measures for defence were adopted. An act was passed to prevent American citizens from fitting out or employing privateers against nations at peace with the United States. The exportation of arms and ammunition was prohibited, and the importation of the same encouraged, by law. The president was also authorized to call out the militia to the number of eighty thousand, and to accept of the services of volunteers. A small naval force was also provided for, and means for extraordinary expenses incident to a state of war.

Washington had doubts of the success of the new mission. In a letter to Timothy Pickering, at the close of August, he said: "Candor is not a more conspicuous trait in the character of governments than it is of individuals. It is hardly to be expected, then, that the Directory of France will acknowledge its errors, and tread back its steps immediately. This would announce at once that there has been precipitancy and injustice in the measures they have pursued; or that they were incapable of judging, and had been deceived by false representations. Pride would be opposed to all these; and I can scarcely think the Directory will relinquish the hold it has upon those who more than probably have suggested and promoted the measures they have been pursuing. I rather suppose that they will lower their tone by degrees, and, as is usual, place the change to the credit of French magnanimity."

Yet Washington had no fears concerning a war with France. To Pickering he wrote: "I can say with truth that my mind has never been alarmed by any fears of a war with France. I always knew that this government had no desire to go to war with that or any other country; and I as firmly believed that no power, without a semblance of justice, would declare war against it. That France has stepped far beyond the line of rectitude, can not be denied; that she has been encouraged to do so by a party among ourselves is, to my mind, equally certain; and when it is considered, moreover, that enriching themselves and injuring Great Britain were the expected consequences of their spoliation's, I could account, though not on honorable principles in them, for their going to a certain point; but I never did believe that they would declare an open war against us, or compel us, if they foresaw that would be the result, to declare it against them."

In the autumn of 1797, Washington received a letter dated "Warren, Albemarle county," and signed "John Langhorne," in which the writer condoled with him on the aspersions of his character by his political opponents, and suggested that he ought not to allow them to disturb his repose. This letter was a forgery, there being no such person as John Langhorne, and was evidently intended to draw from Washington some expressions that might be used to his injury, and serve a party purpose. But Washington, ever guarded, let fall no word in his reply that could be so used. "For the divisions which have taken place among us, with respect to our political concerns," he said, "for the attacks which have been made upon those to whom the administration of the government has been intrusted by the people, and for the calumnies which are levelled at all those who are disposed to support the measures thereof, I feel, on public account, as much as any man can do, because in my opinion much evil and no good can result to this country from such conduct. So far as these attacks are aimed at me personally, it is, I can assure you, a misconception, if it be supposed I feel the venom of the darts."

This letter appears to have been written by a person whose name has never been given to the public. The fraud was discovered by a gentleman who lived near the residence of Mr. Jefferson. He was informed of a letter in the Charlottesville post-office, in the well-known handwriting of Washington, addressed to one whose name was unknown in that neighborhood; and he immediately apprized Washington, not only of that fact, but that his reply was sent for by a person whose political sentiments were averse to those of the late administration. Washington furnished his informant with a copy of the correspondence; and that gentleman, on investigation, expressed his opinion that the "plot" originated with Jefferson. Washington appears to have considered that opinion of some weight, for, in a response to the letter of his informant, he said: "If the person whom you suspect, was really the author of the letter under the signature of John Langhorne, it is not at all surprising to me that the correspondence should have ended where it did; for the penetration of that man would have perceived, at the first glance, that nothing was to be drawn from that mode of attack. In what form the next invidious attempts may appear, remains to be discovered."

There is no evidence that Mr. Jefferson had any knowledge of the matter until the forgery was exposed, and his name had been connected with it by Washington's informant, whom he denominated his "malignant neighbor." That neighbor was John Nicholas, commonly known as "Clerk John," who, Mr. Randall says, "was a weak-headed, absurd busybody, with that restless itching for notoriety which renders a man, destitute of ability, sense, or delicacy, almost indifferent as to the subject."[125] Washington was naturally indignant at this attempt to ensnare him, and his feelings were much disturbed by the alleged secret attacks upon him and his public measures by Jefferson and his friends. As we have already observed, he lost confidence in the genuineness of Jefferson's professions of friendship; and, from this time, there was no correspondence between them.

At about this time, Washington received the welcome news of the liberation of his friend Lafayette, and his expected speedy departure for America. Also a pamphlet on the "Military and Political Situation of France," by General Dumas, an officer who had served under Rochambeau at Yorktown. On the subject of his friend's release, he wrote to M. de La Colombe, who had been Lafayette's adjutant-general when the latter commanded the National Guard, and who was then in Philadelphia, saying: "I congratulate you on the happy event of the liberation of our mutual friend, whose reception in this country will be, I am sure, cordial from all descriptions of people; from none more than myself. The answer given by him to the minister is noble, and worthy of himself.[126] The only regret I should feel on his arrival in America, if it should happen soon, would be his disappointment at not finding his son here.

"I said all I could with decency, both to him and M. Frestel, to induce their awaiting direct accounts from the prisoners before their departure; but the eagerness of the former to embrace his parents in the first moments of their release from a cruel imprisonment, was not to be restrained."

These two great men and loving friends never met again on earth. Circumstances caused Lafayette to remain in Europe, and his visit to America was deferred more than a quarter of a century, when he came as the Nation's Guest.

Dumas's pamphlet, to which we have just alluded, and the author's accompanying letter, awakened pleasant emotions in the bosom of Washington, for intelligence of an old companion-in-arms was conveyed. "General Rochambeau," wrote Dumas, "is still at his country-seat near Vendome. He enjoys there tolerably good health, considering his great age, and reckons, as well as his military family, amongst his most dear and glorious remembrances, that of the time we had the honor to serve under your command."

This announcement gave Washington real pleasure, for he had heard from time to time vague rumors of the vicissitudes of Rochambeau—first as field-marshal, in command of the revolutionary army of the north; then as a thwarted and disappointed man, dwelling in retirement; and then as a victim prepared for the guillotine, but saved by a sudden change in public affairs. He was glad to know that the general was enjoying repose in his old age. Rochambeau survived all the tempests of the Revolution, was honored by Napoleon with the cross of grand officer of the Legion of Honor, and a marshal's pension, and died in 1807, at the age of eighty-two years.

FOOTNOTES:

[125] Life of Jefferson, ii. 371.

[126] The emperor of Austria communicated to Lafayette, through the marquis de Chasteler, his intention to liberate him from his confinement at Olmutz, on certain conditions, to which the marquis refused to accede. In his reply to De Chasteler, Lafayette said:—

"His majesty, the emperor and king, demands an assurance that, immediately after my release, I will depart for America. This is an intention which I have often manifested; but since, in the actual state of things, an assurance to this effect would seem to recognise a right to impose this condition upon me, I think it not proper to satisfy such a demand.

"His majesty, the emperor and king, has done me the honor to signify that, as the principles which I profess are incompatible with the security of the Austrian government, it is his wish that I should never again enter his dominions without his special permission. There are duties from which I can not release myself—duties which I owe to the United States, and above all to France; nor can I consent to any act which shall derogate from the rights of my country over my person.

"With these reservations, I can assure the marquis de Chasteler that it is my fixed determination never again to set my foot in any country which yields obedience to his imperial majesty the king of Bohemia and Hungary."—Sparks's Life of Washington, vol. xi., note ix. of the Appendix.



CHAPTER XXXIX.

AMERICAN ENVOYS IN PARIS—DIRECTORY SEEKING MONEY—TALLEYRAND AND HIS AGENTS—PROPOSITIONS FOR AN APOLOGY, LOAN, AND BRIBE—INDIGNANT REFUSAL—ATTEMPTS TO FRIGHTEN THE ENVOYS—TWO OF THEM ORDERED OUT OF FRANCE—THEY ALL LEAVE—EXCITEMENT IN THE UNITED STATES—CONGRESS PREPARES FOR WAR—PATRIOTIC ADDRESSES TO THE PRESIDENT—HAMILTON CALLS WASHINGTON TO THE RESCUE OF HIS COUNTRY—WASHINGTON'S RESPONSE—THE PRESIDENT PERPLEXED—HE TURNS TO WASHINGTON—APPEAL OF THE SECRETARY OF WAR—WASHINGTON'S REPLIES—IS APPOINTED COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF OF THE ARMIES OF THE UNITED STATES—HAMILTON URGES HIM TO ACCEPT—THE PRESIDENT SENDS HIM A COMMISSION—SECRETARY OF WAR AT MOUNT VERNON—WASHINGTON ACCEPTS THE APPOINTMENT—HIS SELECTION OF OFFICERS.

The three United States envoys—Pinckney, Gerry, and Marshall—met in Paris on the fourth of October, 1797, and were approached by the wily diplomat, M. de Talleyrand, minister for foreign affairs, in a spirit not at all pleasing either to their expectations or their desires. They had been sent upon a mission of peace, charged with honorable purposes, and were met with propositions insulting and disgraceful. On their arrival, the envoys sent a joint letter to Talleyrand, informing him of their presence and purposes, and requesting him to appoint a time for receiving copies of their letters of credence. He informed them that he was then engaged upon a report to the Directory on American affairs, and that, when it should be completed, he would inform them what was to be done. At the same time he sent them permits (cards of hospitality) to reside in Paris meanwhile.

The Directory had resolved to extort money from the envoys, if possible; and in the course of a few days after their first communication with Talleyrand, that minister, through secret agents, began to sound them. One of these informed them that he had, as if by accident, learned through Talleyrand's private secretary that the Directory were very much exasperated at the tone of the president's speech at the opening of the special session of Congress. Another, a partner in a noted commercial house in Paris, volunteered to answer their drafts to any amount; a third called on them, and, in a private interview with Pinckney, said that he had a message from Talleyrand, suggesting a plan by which a reconciliation between the two governments might be brought about. That "plan" proposed that some of the most offensive passages in the president's speech should be expunged or softened before the envoys should be received; a loan to be made to the republic; and a douceur to the Directory of nearly two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. The envoys were astonished, but resolved to treat the matter in such a way that they might ascertain the real sentiments of the French government, without exciting suspicions.

Shortly afterward (October twentieth), Talleyrand's secret agent again appeared before the envoys, and introduced Mr. Bellamy, a citizen of Hamburg, who came as an intimate friend of the minister for foreign affairs, but without, as he said, any diplomatic authority. He assured the envoys that Talleyrand was well disposed toward the United States; that if the offensive portions of the president's speech should be expunged, the loan made, and the douceur given, a new treaty would be made, and all would be well. "We want money," said Bellamy, speaking for his principals—"a great deal of money."

Another conference was held on the following day, when the secret agent and Bellamy breakfasted with the envoys. It was stated that the Directory insisted upon an apology, or its equivalent, for the offensive words of the president; but Bellamy gave it as his private opinion that the matter might be compromised with money. At that conference the amount of the loan was fixed at six millions four hundred thousand dollars, to be secured by Dutch "inscriptions," or obligations extorted from them by the French; and the douceur to the Directory at two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

"The proposition for a loan can not be met by any construction of our instructions," said the envoys. "One of us, however, will return home and consult our government on that point, provided the Directory will agree to suspend, in the interval, all further captures of American vessels, and all proceedings on captures already made." The agents of the Directory were quite surprised at this answer. Bellamy spoke of the resentment of that body, and said that, if money could not be had from the envoys, the apology would be expected. To his astonishment, he was informed that such a proceeding was wholly out of the question; that the president had exercised his constitutional privilege in giving to Congress his ideas on national affairs, and that in doing so he had only stated facts in regard to French relations with which the American people were already familiar. The agents seemed greatly astonished at the audacity of the envoys, and withdrew, satisfied that they could accomplish nothing.

An interview between the envoys and Talleyrand was arranged for the twenty-seventh. The minister repeated, in substance, the proposition of his agents; but the representatives of America were firm. Finally, after more unofficial interviews with other agents of the Directory, who had endeavored to frighten the American ministers by menaces of the hostility of France; who had painted, in glowing colors, the immense power and resources of the French nation, and the dangers to be apprehended from its indignation; who claimed that in the friendship of France alone could America look for safety—the envoys told them plainly: "Gentlemen, we will not give you a dollar. Before coming here, we should not have thought it possible that such an offer would have been made to us. A transaction such as you propose, would be disgraceful to all parties concerned." And then it was that Pinckney made that terse and indignant remark which has become proverbial: "Millions for defence, but not one cent for tribute!"

Startled by the indignation and boldness of the envoys, the agent of the executive government intimated that if they would pay, for the private use of the Directory, the sum named, by way of fees, as they would pay a lawyer, they might remain in Paris until they should receive further orders from home respecting the loan required for the government. This base proposition to purchase the services of the Directory was rejected with disdain; and the French executive government, in the persons of its agents, withdrew abashed, and did not prosecute the disgraceful measures any further. Indeed, the envoys refused to have any further intercourse with them.

The American ministers remained several months in Paris, urging the objects of their mission at all proper times, but without success. The Directory refused to acknowledge them in their official character, and they were, from time to time, importuned for money by Talleyrand, in his unofficial visits to them. Finally, perceiving that their reception was out of the question, they prepared a full statement, in a letter addressed to Talleyrand, in which they made explanations, and gave proofs unequivocal of the friendliness of the government of the United States toward that of France. To this Talleyrand made an elaborate reply, and the envoys, in April, met it with a rejoinder.

Talleyrand's tactics were now changed, and he endeavored by various attempts to induce Pinckney and Marshall, who were federalists, voluntarily to relinquish their station, and leave negotiations with Gerry, who belonged to the republican party, and was supposed to sympathize with the French Directory. In this the wily diplomat did not succeed. Satisfied that nothing could seduce them from the path of rectitude, the Directory ordered those two envoys to quit the territories of the French republic immediately; while, to aggravate the insult to the American government, Mr. Gerry, because he belonged to a party favorable to France, was permitted to remain. Gerry, frightened (as he afterward said, in excuse for his conduct) by Talleyrand's threat of an immediate declaration of war against the United States by France if he should leave, consented to remain. Yet he refused to sanction the expulsion of his colleagues. He would not treat independently of them; and, finally, the entire embassy returned home. Marshall left France at the middle of April, Gerry on the twenty-sixth of July, but Pinckney was detained until October, on account of the ill health of his daughter.

During the whole time of these attempts at negotiation, the French Directory allowed many gross insults to the United States government to be perpetrated. Open war was waged upon American commerce by French cruisers; and the American flag floating over a vessel was deemed a sufficient justification for the capture and condemnation of such vessel.

When the final despatches of the envoys reached the public eye and ear in the United States, there was an outburst of indignation over all the land, that proclaimed the dignity of true patriotism in the presence of mere party considerations. The nation felt insulted by the attempt to degrade the republic into a tributary dependant of France; and the indignities offered to the representatives of their government, and the injuries inflicted upon their commerce, were resented with great warmth. The words of Pinckney were reported, and in every part of the continent was heard the cry—"Millions for defense, but not one cent for tribute!" And yet there were those slavish enough to justify France, by criminating the American government. The Aurora was foremost in this labor; and, preparatory to such defense, it had published Talleyrand's reply to the statement of the envoys, which had been received by Bache before it reached the government of the United States.

It was argued that the intentions of France were not really hostile; that men under British influence, who wished for war, had misrepresented her conduct; that, admitting her position to be hostile, she only demanded those marks of friendship which, at a critical moment, she had herself afforded America; that the real interests of the United States required a compliance with the demands of the Directory for a loan and a bribe; that it would cost more money to resist than to comply; that resistance would be inevitably ineffectual; and that national honor was never secured by national defeat.

But such logic, degrading and unpatriotic in tendency, did not suit the temper of the American people at that time. A war-spirit was aroused not easily to be appeased, except by the ministrations of justice. In Congress, vigorous measures for defence and retaliation were adopted. Means for administering chastisement for injuries received, and for repelling those which were threatened, were provided with willing alacrity. A regular army was authorized. A regiment of artillerists and engineers was added to the permanent establishment; and the president was authorized to raise twelve additional regiments of infantry and one regiment of cavalry, to serve during the continuance of existing difficulties with France, if not sooner discharged. He was also authorized to appoint officers for a provisional army, and to receive and organize volunteer corps, which should be exempt from ordinary militia duty.

These measures of Congress were fully approved by the great mass of the people. The president received addresses from all parts of the Union, whose spirit attested the patriotic sentiment of the nation; and the executive, in turn, warmed by like sentiments, made responses that sustained the ardor of the people.

Then arose spontaneously in every mind the question, "Who shall command our army in this crisis?" and in every mind was the same response. All hearts turned instinctively toward Washington as the only man in the nation fitted for that important trust. The loud, harsh voice of party spirit was hushed to a whisper; and men who had joined in the clamor of reproach against the late president because of his public measures, were among the first, in this hour of peril, to turn to him as the only leader in whom they might implicitly trust. Intimations of this nature reached Washington almost daily while Congress were busy in preparing for war; and finally, near the close of May, Hamilton, in a confidential and highly interesting letter, wrote to him, saying:—

"At the present dangerous crisis of public affairs, I make no apology for troubling you with a political letter. Your impressions of our situation, I am persuaded, are not different from mine. There is certainly great probability that we may have to enter into a very serious struggle with France; and it is more and more evident that the powerful faction which has for years opposed the government is determined to go every length with France. I am sincere in declaring my full conviction, as the result of a long course of observation, that they are ready to new model our constitution, under the influence or coercion of France; to form with her a perpetual alliance, offensive and defensive; and to give her a monopoly of our trade, by peculiar and exclusive privileges. This would be in substance, whatever it might be in name, to make this country a province of France. Neither do I doubt that her standard, displayed in this country, would be directly or indirectly seconded by them, in pursuance of the project I have mentioned.

"It is painful and alarming to remark that the opposition faction assumes so much a geographical complexion. As yet, from the south of Maryland, nothing has been heard but accounts of disapprobation of our government, and approbation of our apology for France. This is a most portentous symptom, and demands every human effort to change it.

"In such a state of public affairs, it is impossible not to look up to you, and to wish that your influence could in some proper mode be brought into direct action." Hamilton then suggested the propriety of Washington's taking a tour southward, which would call out the people in public demonstrations, and would give him an opportunity of expressing sentiments which would throw the weight of his character into the scale of the government, and revive an enthusiasm for his person that might be turned into a right channel. He concluded by saying: "You ought to be aware, my dear sir, that in the event of an open rupture with France, the public voice will again call you to command the armies of your country; and, though all who are attached to you will, from attachment, as well as public considerations, deplore an occasion which should once more tear you from that repose to which you have so good a right, yet it is the opinion of all those with whom I converse that you will be compelled to make the sacrifice. All your past labor may demand, to give it efficacy, this further—this great sacrifice."

Notwithstanding these alarm-bell notes from Hamilton, in whose political sagacity Washington had unbounded confidence, he could not bring himself to believe that actual war between the two countries would ensue. "You may be assured," he replied, "that my mind is deeply impressed with the present situation of our public affairs, and not a little agitated by the outrageous conduct of France toward the United States, and at the unparalleled conduct of its partisans, who aid and abet their measures. You may believe further, from assurances equally sincere, that, if there was anything in my power, which could be done with consistency, to avert or lessen the danger of the crisis, it should be rendered with hand and heart.

"But, my dear sir, dark as matters appear at present, and expedient as it is to be prepared at all points for the worst that can happen—and no one is more disposed to this measure than I am—I can not make up my mind yet for the expectation of open war, or, in other words, for a formidable invasion by France. I can not believe, although I think them capable of anything bad, that they will attempt to do more than they have done; or that, when they perceive the spirit and policy of this country rising into resistance, and that they have falsely calculated upon support from a large part of the people thereof to promote their views and influence in it, they will not desist even from these practices, unless unexpected events in Europe, and their possession of Louisiana and the Floridas, should induce them to continue the measure. And I believe further, that, although the leaders of their party in this country will not change their sentiments, they will be obliged, nevertheless, to change their plan, or the mode of carrying it on, from the effervescence which is appearing in all quarters, and from the desertion of their followers, which must frown them into silence, at least for awhile.

"If I did not view things in this light, my mind would be infinitely more disquieted than it is; for, if a crisis should arrive when a sense of duty or a call from my country should become so imperious as to leave me no choice, I should prepare for the relinquishment, and go with as much reluctance from my present peaceful abode, as I should do to the tomb of my ancestors.

"To say at this time, determinately, what I should do under such circumstances, might be improper, having once before departed from a similar resolution; but I may declare to you, that, as there is no conviction in my breast that I could serve my country with more efficiency in the command of the armies it might levy than many others, an expression of its wish that I should do so must, somehow or other, be unequivocally known, to satisfy my mind, that, notwithstanding the respect in which I may be held on account of former services, a preference might not be given to a man more in his prime; and it might well be supposed, too, that I should like precisely to know who would be my coadjutors, and whether you would be disposed to take an active part, if arms are to be resorted to."[127]

President Adams found himself placed in a most perplexing position by the authority given him by Congress to form a provisional army, with its complement of major-generals and their subordinate officers. He had no military knowledge upon which his judgment might rely. Among the surviving officers of the Revolution, he perceived none in whom he felt implicit confidence as a wise adviser, or as a proper person for generalissimo of the new army; and, like all his fellow citizens, he turned to Washington as the Maecenas upon whose sagacious counsels the safety of the republic depended in that critical hour. He well knew how painful it would be for the retired president to be again drawn into active public life; and he also well knew that it had ever been a controlling maxim of Washington's life never to allow personal considerations to interfere with the public welfare. Impressed with this fact, Adams wrote to Washington on the twenty-second of June, saying: "In forming an army, whenever I must come to that extremity, I am at an immense loss whether to call on all the old generals, or to appoint a young set. If the French come here, we must learn to march with a quick step, and to attack, for in that way only they are said to be vulnerable. I must tax you sometimes for advice. We must have your name, if you will in any case permit us to use it. There will be more efficiency in it than in many an army."

Four days afterward, M'Henry, the secretary of war, wrote: "You see how the storm thickens, and that our vessel will soon require its ancient pilot. Will you—may we flatter ourselves that, in a crisis so awful and important, you will accept the command of all our armies? I hope you will, because you alone can unite all hearts and all hands, if it is possible that they can be united."

The letters of the president and of the secretary of war were detained on the way. They both reached Washington on the fourth of July, and were answered on the same day. He assured the president that, as far as was in his power, he should be ready to support the administration; and, "to render it easy, happy, and honorable," he said, "you may command me without reserve." After alluding to his former opinion that the United States were in no danger of invasion from a foreign power, he added: "But this seems to be an age of wonders; and it is reserved for intoxicated and lawless France (for purposes of Providence far beyond the reach of human ken) to slaughter its own citizens, and to disturb the repose of all the world besides.

"From a view of the past and the present," he continued, "and from the prospect of that which seems to be expected, it is not easy for me to decide satisfactorily on the part it might best become me to act. In case of actual invasion by a formidable force, I certainly should not intrench myself under the cover of age and retirement, if my services should be required by my country to assist in repelling it. If there be good cause—which must be better known to the government than to private citizens—to expect such an event, delay in preparing for it might be dangerous, improper, and not to be justified by prudence."

After again expressing his conviction that the French would not, in the face of the unequivocal display of public opinion in the United States in favor of resenting the national insults, proceed to the extremity of actual war, he said: "Having with candor made this disclosure of the state of my mind, it remains only that I should add, that, to those who know me best, it is best known that, if imperious circumstances should induce me to renounce the smooth paths of retirement for the thorny ways of public life—at a period, too, when repose is most congenial to nature, and a calm indispensable to contemplation—it would be productive of sensations more easily conceived than expressed."

Washington concluded his letter with valuable hints about officering the provisional army. He suggested that the "old set of generals," who were in the War for Independence, might not have "sufficient activity, energy, and health," for the widely-different service into which they would be called; and that the more energetic of younger officers should be preferred. He specially advised the president to be very judicious in the choice of the general staff of the army. "If this corps," he said, "is not composed of respectable characters, who have a knowledge of the duties of their respective departments—able, active, and firm, and of incorruptible integrity and prudence, and withal such as the commander-in-chief can place entire confidence in—his plans and movements, if not defeated altogether, may be so embarrassed and retarded as to amount nearly to the same thing."

To M'Henry, Washington wrote with all the freedom of intimate friendship, saying: "I see, as you do, that clouds are gathering, and that a storm may ensue; and I find, too, from a variety of hints, that my quiet under these circumstances does not promise to be of long continuance.... As my whole life has been dedicated to my country, in one shape or another, for the poor remains of it, it is not an object to contend for ease and quiet, when all that is valuable in it is at stake, farther than to be satisfied that the sacrifice I should make of them is acceptable and desired by my country.

"The principles by which my conduct has been actuated through life would not suffer me, in any great emergency, to withhold any services I could render, required by my country; especially in a case where its dearest rights are assailed by lawless ambition and intoxicated power, contrary to every principle of justice, and in violation of solemn compacts and laws, which govern all civilized nations.... In circumstances like these, accompanied by an actual invasion of our territorial rights, it would be difficult at any time for me to remain an idle spectator under the plea of age and retirement. With sorrow, it is true, I should quit the shades of my peaceful abode, and the ease and happiness I now enjoy, to encounter anew the turmoils of war, to which, possibly, my strength and powers might be found incompetent. These, however, should not be stumbling-blocks in my own way; but there are other things highly important for me to ascertain and settle before I could give a decided answer to your question.

"First, the propriety, in the opinion of the public, so far as that opinion has been expressed in conversation, of my appearing again on a public theatre, after declaring the sentiments I did in my Valedictory Address, of September, 1796.

"Secondly, a conviction in my own breast, from the best information that can be obtained, that it is the wish of my country that the military force of it should be committed to my charge; and—

"Thirdly, that the army now to be formed should be so appointed as to afford a well-grounded hope of its doing honor to the country, and credit to him who commands it in the field. On each of these heads you must allow me to make observations."

Washington then proceeded to give his views in detail, upon these three points, without reserve. He did not feel at liberty to do so to the president directly, because his excellency had only hinted his wishes in delicate terms. His habits of intimacy with the secretary of war, and that officer's more explicit solicitations, made him feel free to lay his sentiments before him. At the same time, he gave Mr. M'Henry liberty to show his letter to the president.

On the second of July, before Washington had received these letters, President Adams nominated him to the senate as "lieutenant-general and commander-in-chief of all the armies raised and to be raised in the United States." The senate confirmed the nomination, by unanimous vote, on the same day; and Secretary M'Henry was despatched to Mount Vernon a few days afterward, to bear the commission to Washington. He also bore a letter from the president, and open instructions concerning his interview with the new commander-in-chief.[128] "Mr. M'Henry, secretary of war," wrote the president, "will have the honor to wait on you in my behalf, to impart to you a step I have ventured to take, which I should have been happy to have communicated in person, had such a journey, at this time, been in my power. My reasons for this measure will be too well known to need any explanation to the public. Every friend and every enemy to America will comprehend them at first blush. To you, sir, I owe all the apology I can make. The urgent necessity I am in of your advice and assistance—indeed, of your conduct and direction of the war—is all I can urge; and that is a sufficient justification to myself and to the world. I hope it will be so considered by yourself. Mr. M'Henry will have the honor to consult you upon the organization of the army, and upon everything relating to it."

On the day of the nomination, M'Henry wrote to Washington, not knowing at that moment that he would be the bearer of the general's commission. After speaking of the nomination and the confirmation, he added: "Thus you are again called upon by all voices to fill a station which all think you alone qualified for at this moment. I know what must be your feelings, and how many motives you must have for preferring the privacy you are in the enjoyment of, to the troubles and perplexities of a commander of an army. This, however, is the crowning sacrifice which I pray to God you may agree to make for the sake of your country, and give the last finish to a fame nothing short of such a call and the present occasion could have been capable of increasing."

On the eighth of July, Hamilton wrote to Washington, saying: "I was surprised that your nomination had been without any previous consultation of you. Convinced of the goodness of the motives, it would be useless to scan the propriety of the step. It is taken, and the question is, 'What, under the circumstances, ought to be done?' I use the liberty which my attachment to you and to the public authorizes, to offer my opinion that you should not decline the appointment. It is evident that the public satisfaction at it is lively and universal. It is not to be doubted that the circumstances will give an additional spring to the public mind—will tend much to unite, and will facilitate the measures which the conjunction requires. On the other hand, your declining would certainly produce the opposite effects—would throw a great damp upon the ardor of the country, inspiring the idea that the crisis was not really serious or alarming. At least, then, let me entreat you—and in this all your friends, indeed all good citizens, will unite—that, if you do not give an unqualified acceptance, that you accept provisionally, making your entering upon the duties to depend on future events, so that the community may look up to you as their certain commander. But I prefer a simple acceptance."

The meeting of Washington and the secretary of war was cordial, and their communications were free and unreserved. The former had reflected upon the situation of his country, and its demands upon his services, and had, though with a heavy heart, determined to accept the appointment, provided he could be permitted to select for the higher departments of the army, and especially for the military staff, those in whom he could place the greatest confidence. M'Henry assured him that his wishes in that respect would be complied with; and, before the secretary left, Washington gave him a list of officers, according to an arrangement which he should recommend.[129]

On the thirteenth of July, Washington wrote his letter of acceptance to President Adams, and placed it in the hands of the secretary of war, who left Mount Vernon on that day. "I can not express," he said, "how greatly affected I am at this new proof of public confidence, and the highly flattering manner in which you have been pleased to make the communication; at the same time, I must not conceal from you my earnest wish that the choice had fallen on a man less declined in years, and better qualified to encounter the usual vicissitudes of war.

"You know, sir, what calculations I had made relative to the probable course of events on my retiring from office, and the determination I had consoled myself with, of closing the remnant of my days in my present peaceful abode. You will, therefore, be at no loss to conceive and appreciate the sensations I must have experienced to bring my mind to any conclusion that would pledge me, at so late a period of life, to leave scenes I sincerely love, to enter upon the boundless field of public action, incessant trouble, and high responsibility.

"It was not possible for me to remain ignorant of, or indifferent to, recent transactions. The conduct of the Directory of France toward our country, their insidious hostilities to its government, their various practices to withdraw the affections of the people from it, the evident tendency of their arts and those of their agents to countenance and invigorate opposition, their disregard of solemn treaties and the laws of nations, their war upon our defenceless commerce, their treatment of our minister of peace, and their demands amounting to tribute, could not fail to excite in me corresponding sentiments with those which my countrymen have so generally expressed in their addresses to you. Believe me, sir, no one can more cordially approve of the wise and prudent measures of your administration. They ought to inspire universal confidence; and will, no doubt, combined with the state of things, call from Congress such laws and means as will enable you to meet the full force and extent of the crisis.

"Satisfied, therefore, that you have sincerely wished and endeavored to avert the war, and exhausted to the last drop the cup of reconciliation, we can with pure hearts appeal to Heaven for the justice of our cause, and may confidently trust the final result to that kind Providence which has heretofore and so often signally favored the people of these United States.

"Thinking in this manner, and feeling how incumbent it is upon every person, of every description, to contribute at all times to his country's welfare, and especially in a moment like the present, when everything we hold dear is so seriously threatened, I have finally determined to accept the commission of commander-in-chief of the armies of the United States; with the reserve only, that I shall not be called into the field until the army is in a situation to require my presence, or it becomes indispensable by the urgency of circumstances.

"In making this reservation, I beg to be understood that I do not mean to withhold any assistance to arrange and organize the army which you may think I can afford. I take the liberty also to mention that I must decline having my acceptance considered as drawing after it any immediate charge upon the public, and that I can not receive any emoluments annexed to the appointment before entering into a situation to incur expense."

FOOTNOTES:

[127] Hamilton expressed his willingness to enter the army, if he should be invited to a station in which the service he might render might be proportionate to the sacrifice he was to make. "If you command," he said, "the place in which I should hope to be most useful is that of inspector-general, with a command in the line. This I would accept."

[128] The following were M'Henry's instructions:—

"It is my desire that you embrace the first opportunity to set out on your journey to Mount Vernon, and wait on General Washington with the commission of lieutenant-general and commander-in-chief of the armies of the United States, which, by the advice and consent of the senate, has been signed by me.

"The reasons and motives which prevailed on me to venture on such a step as the nomination of this great and illustrious character, whose voluntary resignation alone occasioned my introduction to the office I now hold, were too numerous to be detailed in this letter, and are too obvious and important to escape the observation of any part of America or Europe. But, as it is a movement of great delicacy, it will require all your address to communicate the subject in a manner that shall be inoffensive to his feelings, and consistent with all the respect that is due from me to him.

"If the general should decline the appointment, all the world will be silent, and respectfully acquiesce. If he should accept, all the world, except the enemies of his country, will rejoice. If he should come to no decisive determination, but take the subject into consideration, I shall not appoint any other lieutenant-general until his conclusion is known.

"His advice in the formation of a list of officers would be extremely desirable to me. The names of Lincoln, Morgan, Knox, Hamilton, Gates, Pinckney, Lee, Carrington, Hand, Muhlenburg, Dayton, Burr, Brooks, Cobb, Smith, as well as the present commander-in-chief, may be mentioned to him, and any others that occur to you. Particularly I wish to have his opinion on the men most suitable for inspector-general, adjutant-general, and quartermaster-general.

"His opinion on all subjects would have great weight, and I wish you to obtain from him as much of his reflections upon the names and the service as you can."

[129] The arrangement was as follows:—

ALEXANDER HAMILTON, Inspector. } CHARLES C. PINCKNEY, } Major-Generals. HENRY KNOX, or, if either refuses, } HENRY LEE, }

HENRY LEE (if not major-general), } JOHN BROOKS, } WILLIAM S. SMITH, or } Brigadiers. JOHN EAGER HOWARD, }

EDWARD HAND, or } JONATHAN DAYTON, or } Adjutant-General WILLIAM S. SMITH (if not brigadier),}

EDWARD CARRINGTON, Quartermaster-General. JAMES CRAIK, Director of Hospitals.



CHAPTER XL.

HAMILTON ACTING COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF—ARRANGEMENT OF GENERAL OFFICERS—MORTIFICATION OF KNOX—HIS LETTER TO WASHINGTON—A SOOTHING REPLY—KNOX OFFERS HIMSELF AS AID-DE-CAMP—THE PRESIDENT'S INDECISION—WASHINGTON'S DECIDED LETTER TO THE PRESIDENT—HIS ARRANGEMENT OF GENERALS CONFIRMED—TARDINESS IN RECRUITING—REMISSNESS OF THE SECRETARY OF WAR—ANOTHER LETTER TO KNOX—HE DECLINES SERVING UNDER HAMILTON—GENERAL PINCKNEY'S GENEROUS COURSE—MEETING OF THE GENERALS IN PHILADELPHIA—ARRANGEMENTS FOR THE ARMY—HAMILTON LEFT IN COMMAND—WASHINGTON'S SUGGESTIONS—CORRESPONDENCE WITH LAFAYETTE.

Having accepted the appointment of commander-in-chief of the provisional army, Washington entered at once upon the duties of his office by preparations for its organization. "I have consented to embark once more on the boundless ocean of responsibility and trouble," he wrote to Hamilton; and added, "I rely upon you as a coadjutor and assistant in the turmoils I have consented to encounter." This, as we have observed, was Washington's desire from the first moment when it appeared probable that he would be invited to take the leadership of the army; and, as we have seen, he placed Hamilton first on the list of his generals, in his suggestions to the secretary of war. His reasons for this selection were given to the president many weeks afterward, when there appeared to be a disposition on the part of Adams to reverse the order, and place Knox at the head of the general staff.

"Although Colonel Hamilton," he said, "has never acted in the character of a general officer, yet his opportunities, as the principal and most confidential aid of the commander-in-chief, afforded him the means of viewing everything on a larger scale than those whose attention was confined to divisions or brigades, who knew nothing of the correspondences of the commander-in-chief, or of the various orders to or transactions with the general staff of the army. These advantages, and his having served with usefulness in the old Congress, in the general convention, and having filled one of the most important departments of government with acknowledged abilities and integrity, have placed him on high ground, and made him a conspicuous character in the United States, and even in Europe.... He is enterprising, quick in his perceptions, and his judgment intuitively great; qualities essential to a military character." Thus appreciating Hamilton, Washington did not hesitate to place him in the position of acting commander-in-chief of the provisional army, it having been stipulated, as we have observed, that the lieutenant-general should not be called to the field unless under certain contingencies.

Washington's arrangement of the rank of his major-generals was made solely with reference to the public good. He apprehended that both Knox and Pinckney (the latter yet in Europe) would feel aggrieved at the promotion of Hamilton over their heads, they being his seniors in age and superiors in rank. Yet he could not act otherwise than in accordance with the convictions of his judgment. And in placing the veteran Knox below Pinckney, he consulted the interests of his country rather than his own feelings.

In communicating to Knox the fact of his appointment, Washington said: "As you have always found, and I trust ever will find, candor a prominent part of my character, I must add that causes, which would exceed the limits of an ordinary letter to explain, are in the way of such an arrangement as might render your situation perfectly agreeable; but I fondly hope that the difficulty will not be insurmountable in your decision." He then informed him that he had chosen Colonel Hamilton as his second in command, and General Pinckney next; saying of the latter gentleman, that he was active, spirited, and intelligent, who, it was understood at the South, had made military tactics as much if not more his study than any officer in the continental army during the Revolution. "His character, in other respects, in that quarter," he said, "before his late embassy, was also high; and throughout the Union it has acquired celebrity by his conduct as minister and envoy. His connections are numerous, and their influence extensive. When to these considerations I add, as my decided opinion, for reasons unnecessary to enumerate, that if the French intend an invasion of this country in force, their operations will commence south of Maryland, and probably of Virginia, you will see at once the importance of embarking this gentleman and all his connections heartily in all the active scenes that would follow." He then expressed a hope that, in the impending struggle for everything that ought to be dear and sacred to freemen, former rank would be forgotten; and that, among the fit and chosen characters, the only contention would be, who should be foremost in zeal and patriotism at that crisis to serve his country, in whatever situation circumstances might place him.

Knox was deeply mortified by the preference given to Hamilton and Pinckney; and, in the moments of irritated pride, and at the impulse of deeply-wounded feelings, he wrote a warm reply to Washington. "Yesterday," he said, "I received your favor of the sixteenth instant, which I opened with all the delightful sensations of affection which I always before experienced upon the receipt of your letters. But I found, in its perusal, a striking instance of that vicissitude of human affairs and friendships which you so justly describe. I read it with astonishment, which, however, subsided in the reflection that few men well know themselves, and therefore that for more than twenty years I have been acting under a perfect delusion. Conscious myself of entertaining for you a sincere, active, and invariable friendship, I easily believed it was reciprocal. Nay, more; I flattered myself with your esteem, and respect in a military point of view. But I find that others, greatly my juniors in rank, have been, upon a scale of comparison, preferred before me. Of this, perhaps, the world may also concur with you, that I have no just reason to complain. But every intelligent and just principle of society required, either that I should have been previously consulted on an arrangement in which my feelings and happiness have been so much wounded, or that I should not have been dragged forth to public view at all, to make the comparison so conspicuously odious.

"I revere the cause of my country far beyond all my powers of description. I am charmed with its honorable and dignified proceedings relatively to foreign nations, under the former and present administrations of the supreme executive; and I shall be proud of an honorable opportunity of sealing the truth of these opinions with my blood. It will be to me a malignant shaft of fate, indeed, if I am to be excluded from active service by a constant sense of public insult and injury.

"It would be absurd in me," he said, "to complain of an arrangement already made, with any view to a change." He then took a general survey of the whole matter, in an expostulary tone; expressed his belief that there had been some "management," of which Washington was not apprized; and that, if there should be an invasion of the South, Mr. Pinckney might submit to the arrangement for a time. "But, if no such pressure should exist," he continued, "I have mistaken his character greatly if he will accept." After many remarks respecting the probable course of events in connection with the French, he said:—

"If such a train of events should occur (and events infinitely less probable have occurred in thick succession for the last seven years), all the military energy of America will be required. Then an opportunity may be afforded in which a better value may be set upon my services than at the present, and I may be permitted to exert myself unshackled by any degradation of character.

"I have received no other notification of an appointment than what the newspapers announce. When it shall please the secretary of war to give me the information, I shall endeavor to make him a suitable answer. At present, I do not perceive how it can possibly be to any other purport than in the negative.... In whatever situation I shall be," he said in conclusion, "I shall always remember with pleasure and gratitude the friendship and confidence with which you have heretofore honored me."

This letter gave Washington great pain. He loved Knox very sincerely, and would not, without good cause, say or do anything to wound his feelings. He always spoke of him with the warmth of the most disinterested friendship. "There is no man in the United States," he wrote to President Adams a few weeks later, "with whom I have been in habits of greater intimacy, no one whom I have loved more sincerely, nor any for whom I have had a greater friendship. But esteem, love, and friendship, can have no influence on my mind, when I conceive that the subjugation of our government and independence are the objects aimed at by the enemies of our peace, and where possibly our all is at stake."

Washington made an early reply to Knox's epistle. "Your letter," he said, "has filled my mind with disquietude and perplexity in the extreme; but I will say nothing in reply, intentionally, that shall give you a moment's pain." He then entered into an elaborate history of the circumstances under which the appointments were made, showing that such haste had been exercised, that the first intimation he had of his own appointment was from a newspaper paragraph and a private note from the secretary of war; and that it was impossible for him to consult General Knox, who was then in Boston, previous to the nomination of the general officers.