CHAPTER V

WASHINGTON AS A PARTY MAN

Washington was not chosen to office by a political party; he

considered parties to be perilous things, and he entered the

presidency determined to have nothing to do with them. Yet, as has

already been pointed out, he took the members of his cabinet entirely

from one of the two parties which then existed, and which had been

produced by the divisions over the Constitution and its adoption. To

this charge he would no doubt have replied that the parties caused

by the constitutional differences had ceased to exist when that

instrument went into operation, and that it was to be supposed that

all men were then united in support of the government. Accepting this

view of it, it only remains to see how he fared when new and purely

political parties, as was inevitable, sprang into active life.

Whatever his own opinions may have been as to parties and

party-strife, Washington was under no delusions in regard either to

human nature or to himself, and he had no expectation that everything

he said or did would meet with universal approbation. He well knew

that there would be dissatisfaction, and no man ever took high office

with a mind more ready to bear criticism and to profit by it. Three

months after his inauguration he wrote to his friend David Stuart:

"I should like to be informed of the public opinion of both men and

measures, and of none more than myself; not so much of what may be

thought commendable parts, if any, of my conduct, as of those which

are conceived to be of a different complexion. The man who means to

commit no wrong will never be guilty of enormities; consequently he

can never be unwilling to learn what are ascribed to him as foibles.

If they are really such, the knowledge of them in a well-disposed mind

will go half-way towards a reform. If they are not errors, he can

explain and justify the motives of his actions." This readiness

to hear criticism and this watching of public opinion were

characteristic, for his one desire was to know the truth and never

deceive himself. His journey through New England in the autumn of that

year, his visit to Rhode Island a year later, and his trip through the

southern States in the spring of 1791, had a double motive. He wished

to bring home to the people the existence and the character of the new

government by his appearance among them as its representative; and he

desired also to learn from his own observation, and from inquiries

made on the spot, what the people thought of the administration and

its policies, and of the doings of Congress. He was a keen observer

and a good gatherer of information; for he was patient and persistent,

and had that best of all gifts for getting at public opinion, an

absolute and cheerful readiness to listen to advice from any one. His

travels all had the same result. In the South as in New England he

found that the people were pleased with the new government, and

contented with the prosperity which began at once to flow from the

adoption of a stable national system.

More credit, if anything, was given to it than it really deserved;

for, as he had written to Lafayette before the Constitution went into

effect, "Many blessings will be attributed to our new government which

are now taking their rise from that industry and frugality into which

the people have been forced from necessity." Whether this were true or

not, the new government was entitled to the benefit of all accidents,

and Washington's correct conclusion was that the great body of the

people were heartily with him and his administration. But he was

also quite aware that all the criticism was not friendly, and as

the measures of the government one by one passed Congress, he saw

divisions of sentiment appear, slight at first, but deepening and

hardening with each successive contest. Indeed, he had not been in

office a year when he wrote a long letter to Stuart deploring the

sectionalism which had begun to show itself. The South was complaining

that everything was done in the interest of the northern and eastern

States, and against this idea Washington argued with great force. He

was especially severe on the unreasonable and childish character of

such grievances, and he attributed the feeling in certain States

largely to the outcries of persons who had come home disappointed

in some personal matter from the seat of government. "It is to be

lamented," he said, "that the editors of the different gazettes in the

Union do not more generally and more correctly (instead of stuffing

their papers with scurrility and nonsensical declamation, which few

would read if they were apprised of the contents) publish the debates

in Congress on all great national questions. And this, with no

uncommon pains, every one of them might do." Washington evidently

believed that there was no serious danger of the people going wrong

if they were only fully informed. But the able editors of that day no

doubt felt that they and their correspondents were better fitted to

enlighten the public than any one else could be, and there is no

evidence that any of them ever followed the President's suggestion.

The jealousies and the divisions in Congress, which Washington watched

with hearty dislike on account of their sectional character, began, as

is well known, with the financial measures of the Treasury. As time

went on they became steadily more marked and better defined, and at

last they spread to the cabinet. Jefferson had returned to take his

place as Secretary of State after an absence of many years, and

during that time he had necessarily dropped out of the course of

home politics. He came back with a very moderate liking for the

Constitution, and an intention undoubtedly to do his best as a member

of the cabinet. His first and most natural impulse, of course, was

to fall in with the administration of which he was a part; and so

completely did he do this that it was at his table that the famous

bargain was made which assumed the state debts and took the capital to

the banks of the Potomac.

Exactly what led to the first breach between Jefferson and Hamilton,

whose financial policy was then in the full tide of success, is not

now very easy to determine. Jefferson's action was probably due to a

mixture of motives and a variety of causes, as is generally the case

with men, even when they are founders of the democratic party. In the

first place, Jefferson very soon discovered that Hamilton was

looked upon as the leader in the cabinet and in the policies of the

administration, and this fact excited a very natural jealousy on his

part, because he was the official head of the President's advisers.

In the second place, it was inevitable that Jefferson should dislike

Hamilton, for there never were two men more unlike in character and in

their ways of looking at things. Hamilton was bold, direct, imperious,

and masculine; he went straight to his mark, and if he encountered

opposition he either rode over it or broke it down. When Jefferson

met with opposition he went round it or undermined it; he was adroit,

flexible, and extremely averse to open fighting. There was also good

ground for a genuine difference of opinion between the two secretaries

in regard to the policy of the government. Jefferson was a thorough

representative of the great democratic movement of the time. At bottom

his democracy was of the sensible, practical American type, but he

had come home badly bitten by many of the wild notions which at that

moment pervaded Paris. A man of much less insight than Jefferson would

have had no difficulty in perceiving that Hamilton and his

friends were not in sympathy with these ideas. They hoped for the

establishment of a republic, but they desired for it a highly

energetic and centralized government not devoid of aristocratic

tendencies. This fundamental difference of opinion, increased as it

was by personal jealousies, soon put Jefferson, therefore, into an

attitude of hostility to the men who were then guiding the policy of

the government. The new administration had been so successful that

there was at first practically no party of opposition, and the task

before Jefferson involved the creation of a party, the formulation of

principles, and the definition of issues, with appropriate shibboleths

for popular consumption. Jefferson knew that Hamilton and all who

fought with him were as sincerely in favor of a republic as he himself

was; but his unerring genius in political management told him that he

could never raise a party or make a party-cry out of the statement

that, while he favored a democratic republic, the men to whom he was

opposed preferred one of a more aristocratic caste. It was necessary

to have something much more highly seasoned than this. So he took the

ground that his opponents were monarchists, bent on establishing a

monarchy in this country, and were backed by a "corrupt squadron"

in Congress in the pay of the Treasury. This was of course utter

nonsense, but it served its purpose admirably. Jefferson, indeed,

shouted these cries so much that he almost came to believe in them

himself, and sympathetic writers to this day repeat them as if they

had reality instead of having been mere noise to frighten the unwary.

The prime object of it all was to make the great leaders odious by

connecting them in the popular mind with the royal government that had

been overthrown.

Jefferson's first move was a covert one. In the spring of 1791 he

received Thomas Paine's "Rights of Man," and straightway sent the

pamphlet to the printer with a note of approbation reflecting upon

John Adams. The pamphlet promptly appeared in a reprint with the

note prefixed. It made much stir, and the published approval of the

Secretary of State excited a great deal of criticism, much of which

was very hostile. Jefferson thereupon expressed extreme surprise that

his note had been printed, and on the plea of explaining the matter

wrote to Washington a letter, in which he declared that his friend

Mr. Adams, for whom he had a most cordial esteem, was an apostate to

hereditary monarchy and nobility. He further described his old friend

as a political heretic and as the bellwether Davila, upon whom and

whose writings Mr. Adams had recently been publishing some discourses.

It is but fair to say that no more ingenious attack on the

Vice-President could have been made, but the purpose of it was simply

to arrest the public attention for the real struggle which was to

follow.

The true object of all these movements was to rally a party and break

down Jefferson's great colleague in the cabinet. The "Rights of Man"

served to start the discussion; and the next step was to bring on from

New York Philip Freneau, a verse-writer and journalist, and make him

translating clerk in the State Department, and editor of an opposition

newspaper known as the "National Gazette." The new journal proceeded

to do its work after the fashion of the time. It teemed with abuse

not only of Hamilton and Adams and all the supporters of the treasury

measures, denouncing them as "monarchists," "aristocrats," and "a

corrupt squadron," but it even began a series of coarse assaults

upon the President himself. Jefferson, of course, denied that he had

anything to do with the writing in the newspaper, and Freneau made

oath at the time that the Secretary wrote nothing; but in his old age

he declared that Jefferson wrote or dictated all the most abusive

articles, and he showed a file of the "Gazette" with these articles

marked. Strict veracity was not the strongest characteristic of either

Freneau or Jefferson, and it is really of but little consequence

whether Freneau was lying in his old age or in the prime of life. The

undoubted facts of the case are enough to fix the responsibility upon

Jefferson, where it belongs. The editor of a newspaper devoted

to abusing the administration was brought to Philadelphia by the

Secretary of State, was given a place in his department, and was his

confidential friend. Jefferson himself took advantage of his

position to gather material for attacks upon his chief, and upon his

colleagues, to whom he was bound to be loyal by every rule which

dictates the conduct of honorable men. He did not, moreover, content

himself with this outside work. It has been too much overlooked that

Jefferson, in addition to forming a party and organizing attacks upon

the Secretary of the Treasury and his friends, sought in the first

instance to break down Hamilton in the cabinet, to deprive him of the

confidence of Washington, and by driving him from the administration

to get control himself. At no time did Jefferson ever understand

Washington, but he knew him well enough to be quite aware that he

would never give up a friend like Hamilton on account of any newspaper

attacks. He therefore took a more insidious method.

Knowing that Washington was in the habit of consulting with old

friends at home of all shades of opinion in regard to public affairs,

he contrived through their agency to have his own charges against

Hamilton laid before the President. He also, to make perfectly sure,

wrote himself to Washington, candidly setting forth outside criticism,

and his letter took the form of a well-arranged indictment of the

Treasury measures. This method had the advantage of assailing Hamilton

without incurring any responsibility, and the charges were skilfully

formulated and ingeniously constructed to raise in the mind of the

reader every possible suspicion. At this point Washington comes for

the first time into the famous controversy from which our two great

political parties were born. He did exactly what Jefferson would not

have done, sent the charges all duly formulated to Hamilton, and asked

him his opinion about them. As the accusations thus made against the

policies of the government and the Secretary of the Treasury were all

mere wind of the "monarchist" and "corrupt squadron" order, Hamilton

disposed of them with very little difficulty. The whole proceeding,

if Jefferson was aware of it at the time, must have been a great

disappointment to him. But his mistake was the natural error of an

ingenious man wasting his efforts on one of great directness and

perfect simplicity of character. Hamilton's answer was what Washington

undoubtedly expected. He knew the hollowness of the attack, but none

the less he was made anxious by it as an indication of the serious

party divisions rising about him. This, however, was but the

beginning, and he was soon to have much more direct evidence of the

grave nature of a political conflict, which he then could not bring

himself to believe was irrepressible.

Hamilton, on his side, was not the most patient of men, and although

he bore the attacks of Frenean for some time in silence he finally

retaliated. He did not get any one to do his fighting for him, but

under a thin disguise proceeded to answer in Fenno's newspaper the

abuse of the "National Gazette." He was the best political writer in

the country, and when he struck, his blows told. Jefferson winced and

cried out under the punishment, but it would have been more dignified

in Hamilton to have kept out of the newspapers. Still there was the

fight. It had gone from the cabinet to the press, and the public knew

that the two principal secretaries were at swords' points and were

marshaling behind them strong political forces. The point had been

reached where the President was compelled to interfere unless he

wished his administration to be thoroughly discredited by the bitter

and open conflicts of its members.

He wrote to both secretaries in a grave and almost pathetic tone of

remonstrance, urging them to abandon their quarrel, and, sinking minor

differences, to work with him for the success of the Constitution to

which they were both devoted. Each man replied after his fashion.

Hamilton's letter was short and straight-forward. He could not profess

to have changed his opinion as to the conduct or purpose of his

colleague, but he regretted the strife which had arisen, and promised

to do all that was in his power to allay it by ceasing from further

attacks. Jefferson wrote at great length, controverting Hamilton's

published letters in a way which showed that he was still smarting

from the well-aimed shafts. He also contrived to make his own defense

the vehicle for a renewal of all his accusations against the Treasury,

and he wound up by saying that he looked forward to retirement with

the longing of "a wave-worn mariner," and that he should reserve any

further fighting that he had to do until he was out of office. Soon

after he followed this letter with another, containing a collection

of extracts from his own correspondence while in Paris, to show his

devotion to the Constitution. One is irresistibly reminded by all

this of the Player Queen--"The lady protests too much, methinks."

Washington had not accused Jefferson of lack of loyalty to the

Constitution, indeed he had made no accusations against him of any

kind; but Jefferson knew that his own position was a false one, and

he could not refrain from taking a defensive tone. Washington, in his

reply, said that he needed no proofs of Jefferson's fidelity to the

Constitution, and reiterated his earnest desire for an accommodation

of all differences. "I will frankly and solemnly declare," he said,

"that I believe the views of both of you to be pure and well-meant,

and that experience only will decide with respect to the salutariness

of the measures which are the subjects of dispute.... I could, and

indeed was about to, add more on this interesting subject, but will

forbear, at least for the present, after expressing a wish that the

cup which has been presented to us may not be snatched from our

lips by a discordance of action, when I am persuaded there is no

discordance in your views."

The difficulty was that there was not only discordance in the views of

the two secretaries, but a fundamental political difference, extending

throughout the people, which they typified. The accommodation of views

and the support of the Constitution could only mean a support of

Washington's administration and its measures. Those measures not

only had the President's approval, but they were in many respects

peculiarly his own, and in them he rightly saw the success and

maintenance of the Constitution. But, unfortunately for the interests

of harmony, these measures were either devised or ardently sustained

by the Secretary of the Treasury. They were not the measures of the

Secretary of State, and received from him either lukewarm support

or active, if furtive, hostility. The only peace possible was in

Jefferson's giving in his entire adherence to the policies of

Washington and Hamilton, which were radically opposed to his own. In

one word, a real, profound, and inevitable party division had come,

and it had found the opposing chiefs side by side in the cabinet.

Against this conclusion Washington struggled hard. He had come in as

the representative and by the votes of the whole people, and he shrank

from any step which would seem to make him lean on a party for support

in his administration. He had made up his cabinet with what he very

justly considered the strongest material. He believed that a breaking

up of the cabinet or a change in its membership would be an injury to

the cause of good government, and he was so entirely single-minded

in his own views and wishes, that, with all his knowledge of human

nature, he found it difficult to understand how any one could differ

from him materially. Moreover, having started with the firm intention

of governing without party, he determined, with his usual persistence,

to carry it through, if it were possible. When party feeling had

once developed, and division had sprung up between the two principal

officers of his cabinet, no greater risk could have been run than

that which Washington took in refusing to make the changes which were

necessary to render the administration harmonious. With any lesser

man, such a perilous experiment would have failed and brought with it

disastrous consequences. There is no greater proof of the force of his

will and the weight and strength of his character than the fact that

he held in his cabinet Jefferson and Hamilton, despite their hatred

for each other and each other's principles, and that he not only

prevented any harm, but actually drew great results from the

talents of each of them. Yet, with all his strength of grasp, this

ill-assorted combination could not last, although Washington resisted

the inevitable in a surprising way, and he even begged Jefferson to

remain when the impossibility of doing so had become quite clear to

that gentleman.

The remonstrance in regard to the Freneau matter had but a temporary

effect. Hamilton stopped his attacks, it is true; but Jefferson did

not discontinue his, and he set on foot a movement which was designed

to destroy his rival's public and private reputation. Hamilton met

this attack in Congress, where he refuted it signally; and although

the ostensible movers were members of the House, the defeat recoiled

on the Secretary of State. Having failed in Congress and before the

public to ruin his opponent, and having failed equally to shake

Washington's confidence in Hamilton or the latter's influence in the

administration, Jefferson made up his mind that the cabinet was no

longer the place for him. He became more than ever satisfied that

he was a "wave-worn mariner," and after some hesitation he finally

resigned and transferred his political operations to another field. A

year later Hamilton, from very different reasons of a purely private

character, followed him.

Meantime many events had occurred which all tended to show the growing

intensity of party divisions, and which were not without their effect

upon the mind of the President. In 1792 it became necessary to

consider the question of the approaching election, and all elements

united in urging upon Washington the absolute necessity of accepting

the presidency a second time. Hamilton and the Federalists, of course,

desired Washington's reëlection, because they regarded him as their

leader, as the friend and supporter of their measures, and as the

great bulwark of the government. Jefferson, who was equally urgent,

felt that in the unformed condition of his own party the withdrawal of

Washington, in addition to its injury to the general welfare,

would leave his incoherent forces at the mercy of an avowed and

thorough-going Federalist administration.

So it came about that Washington received another unanimous election.

He had no great longing for public office, but at this time he seems

to have been not without a desire to continue President, in order that

he might carry his measures to completion. In the unanimity of the

choice he took a perfectly natural pleasure, for besides the personal

satisfaction, he could not but feel that it greatly strengthened his

hands in doing the work which he had at heart. On January 20, 1793,

he wrote to Henry Lee: "A mind must be insensible, indeed, not to be

gratefully impressed by so distinguished and honorable a testimony of

public approbation and confidence; and as I suffered my name to be

contemplated on this occasion, it is more than probable that I should,

for a moment, have experienced chagrin if my reëlection had not been

by a pretty respectable vote. But to say I feel pleasure from the

prospect of commencing another tour of duty would be a departure from

the truth." Some time was still to pass before Washington, either by

word or deed, would acknowledge himself to be the chief or even a

member of a party; but before he entered the presidency a second time,

he had no manner of doubt that a party existed which was opposed to

him and to all his measures.

The establishment of the government and the treasury measures had

very quickly rallied a strong party, which kept the name that it had

adopted while fighting the battles of the Constitution. They were

known in their own day, and have been known ever since to history, as

the Federalists. The opposition, composed chiefly of those who had

resisted the adoption of the Constitution, were discredited at the

very start by the success of the union and the new government. When

Jefferson took hold of them they were disorganized and even nameless,

having no better appellation than that of "Anti-Federalists." In

the process of time their great chief gave them a name, a set of

principles, a war-cry, an organization, and at last an overwhelming

victory. They began to take on something like form and coherence in

resisting Hamilton's financial measures; but the success of his policy

was so dazzling that they were rather cowed by it, and were left by

their defeat little better off in the way of discipline than before.

The French Revolution and its consequences, including a war with

England, gave them a much better opportunity. It is melancholy to

think that American parties should have entered upon their first

struggle purely on questions of foreign politics. The only explanation

is to repeat that we were still colonists in all but name and

allegiance, and it was Washington's task not only to establish a

dignified and independent policy of his own abroad, but to beat down

colonial politics at home.

In the first burst of rejoicing over the uprising of the French

people, no divisions were apparent; but the arrival of Genet was the

signal for their beginning. The extraordinary spectacle was then

presented of an American party arrayed against the administration

under the lead of the French minister, and with the strong, although

covert sympathy of the Secretary of State. The popular feeling in fact

was so strongly with France that the new party seemed on the

surface to have almost universal support. The firm attitude of the

administration and Washington's unyielding adherence to his policy of

neutrality gave them their first serious check, but also embittered

their attacks. In the first three years of the government almost every

one refrained from attacking Washington personally. The unlimited love

and respect in which he was held were the principal causes of this

moderation, but even those opponents who were not influenced by

feelings of respect were restrained by a wholesome prudence from

bringing upon themselves the odium of being enemies of the President.

The fiction that the king could do no wrong was carried to the last

extreme by the Long Parliament when they made war on Charles in order

to remove him from evil counselors. It was, no doubt, the exercise of

a wise conservatism in that instance; but in the United States, and

in the ordinary condition of politics, such a position was of course

untenable. The President was responsible for his cabinet and for the

measures of his administration, and it was impossible to separate them

long, even when the chief magistrate was so great and so well-beloved

as Washington. Freneau, editing his newspaper from the office of the

Secretary of State, seems to have been the first to break the line. He

passed speedily from attacks on measures to attacks on men, and among

the latter he soon included the President. Washington had had too much

experience of slander and abuse during the revolutionary war to be

worried by them. But Freneau took pains to send him copies of his

newspapers, a piece of impertinence which apparently led to a little

vigorous denunciation, the account of which seems probable, although

our only authority is in Jefferson's "Ana." As the attacks went on and

were extended, and when Bache joined in with the "Aurora," Washington

was not long in coming to the unpleasant conclusion that all this

opposition proceeded from a well-formed plan, and was the work of

a party which designed to break down his measures and ruin his

administration. All statesmen intrusted in a representative system

with the work of government are naturally prone to think that their

opponents are also the enemies of the public welfare, and Washington

was no exception to the rule. Such an opinion is indeed unavoidable,

for a public man must have faith that his own measures are the best

for the country, and if he did not, he would be but a faint-hearted

representative, unfit to govern and unable to lead. History has agreed

with Washington in his view of the work of his administration, and has

set it down as essential to the right and successful foundation of the

government. It is not to be wondered at that at the moment Washington

should regard a party swayed by the French minister and seeking to

involve us in war as unpatriotic and dangerous. He even thought that

one probable solution of Genet's conduct was that he was the tool and

not the leader of the party which sustained him. In fact, his general

view of the opposition was marked by that perfect clearness which was

characteristic of all his opinions when he had fully formed them. In

July, 1793, he wrote to Henry Lee:--

"That there are in this as well as in all other countries,

discontented characters, I well know; as also that these characters

are actuated by very different views: some good, from an opinion that

the general measures of the government are impure; some bad, and, if I

might be allowed to use so harsh an expression, diabolical, inasmuch

as they are not only meant to impede the measures of that government

generally, but more especially, as a great means toward the

accomplishment of it, to destroy the confidence which it is necessary

for the people to place, until they have unequivocal proof of demerit,

in their public servants. In this light I consider myself whilst I

am an occupant of office; and if they were to go further and call me

their slave during this period, I would not dispute the point.

"But in what will this abuse terminate? For the result, as it respects

myself, I care not; for I have a consolation within that no earthly

efforts can deprive me of, and that is, that neither ambition

nor interested motives have influenced my conduct. The arrows of

malevolence, therefore, however barbed and well pointed, never can

reach the most vulnerable part of me; though, whilst I am up as a

_mark_, they will be continually aimed. The publications in Freneau's

and Bache's papers are outrages on common decency, and they progress

in that style in proportion as their pieces are treated with contempt,

and are passed by in silence by those at whom they are aimed. The

tendency of them, however, is too obvious to be mistaken by men of

cool and dispassionate minds, and, in my opinion, ought to alarm them,

because it is difficult to prescribe bounds to the effect."

He was not much given, however, to talking about his assailants. If he

said anything, it was usually only in the way of contemptuous sarcasm,

as when he wrote to Morris: "The affairs of this country _cannot go

amiss_. There are _so many watchful guardians of them_, and such

_infallible guides_, that one is at no loss for a director at every

turn. But of these matters I shall say little." If these attacks had

any effect on him, it was only to make him more determined in carrying

out his purposes. In the first skirmish, which ended in the recall

of Genet, he not only prevailed, but the French minister's audacity

especially in venturing to appeal to the people against their

President, demoralized the opposition and brought public opinion round

to the side of the administration with an overwhelming force.

Genet's mischief, however, did not end with him. He had sown the seeds

of many troubles, and among others the idea of societies on the model

of the famous Jacobin Club of Paris. That American citizens should

have so little self-respect as to borrow the political jargon and ape

the political manners of Paris was sad enough. To put on red caps,

drink confusion to tyrants, sing _Ça ira_, and call each other

"citizen," was foolish to the verge of idiocy, but it was at least

harmless. When, however, they began to form "democratic societies"

on the model of the Jacobins, for the defense of liberty against a

government which the people themselves had made, they ceased to be

fatuous and became mischievous. These societies, senseless imitations

of French examples, and having no real cause to defend liberty, became

simply party organizations, with a strong tendency to foster license

and disorder. Washington regarded them with unmixed disgust, for he

attributed to them the agitation and discontent of the settlers beyond

the mountains, which threatened to embroil us with Spain, and he

believed also that the much more serious matter of the whiskey

rebellion was their doing. After having exhausted every reasonable

means of concession and compromise, and having concentrated the best

public opinion of the country behind him, he resolved to put down this

"rebellion" with a strong hand, and he wrote to Henry Lee, just as

he was preparing to take the last step: "It is with equal pride and

satisfaction I add that, as far as my information extends, this

insurrection is viewed with universal indignation and abhorrence,

except by those who have never missed an opportunity, by side-blows

or otherwise, to attack the general government; and even among these

there is not a spirit hardy enough yet openly to justify the daring

infractions of law and order; but by palliatives they are attempting

to suspend all proceedings against the insurgents, until Congress

shall have decided on the case, thereby intending to gain time, and,

if possible, to make the evil more extensive, more formidable, and, of

course, more difficult to counteract and subdue.

"I consider this insurrection as the first formidable fruit of the

democratic societies, brought forth, I believe, too prematurely for

their own views, which may contribute to the annihilation of them."

The insurrection vanished on the advance of the forces of the United

States. It had been formidable enough to alarm all conservative

people, and its inglorious end left the opposition, which had given it

a certain encouragement, much discredited. This matter being settled,

Washington determined to strike next at what he considered the chief

sources of the evil, the clubs, which, to use his own words, "were

instituted for the express purpose of poisoning the minds of the

people of this country, and making them discontented with the

government." Accordingly, in his speech to the next Congress he

denounced the democratic societies. After tracing the course of the

whiskey rebellion, he said:--

"And when in the calm moments of reflection they [the citizens of

the United States] shall have traced the origin and progress of the

insurrection, let them determine whether it has not been fomented by

combinations of men, who, careless of consequences, and disregarding

the unerring truth, that those who rouse cannot always appease a civil

convulsion, have disseminated, from an ignorance or perversion

of facts, suspicions, jealousies, and accusations of the whole

government."

The opposition both in Congress and in the newspapers shrieked loudly

over this plain speaking; but when Washington struck a blow, it was

usually well timed, and the present instance was no exception. Coming

immediately after the failure of the insurrection, and the triumph of

the government, this strong expression of the President's disapproval

had a fatal effect upon the democratic societies. They withered away

with the rapidity of weeds when their roots have been skillfully cut.

After this, even if Washington still refused to consider himself the

head of a party, the opposition no longer had any doubts on that

point. They not only regarded him as the chief of the Federalists, but

also, and with perfect justice, as their own most dangerous enemy,

and the man who had dealt them and their cause the most deadly blows.

Whatever restraint they may have hitherto placed upon themselves in

dealing with him personally, they now abandoned, and the opportunity

for open war soon came to them in the vexed question of the British

treaty, where they occupied much better ground than in the Genet

affair, and commanded much more popular sympathy. Their orators did

not hesitate to say that the conduct of the President in this affair

had been improper and monarchical, and that he ought to be impeached.

After the treaty was signed, the "Aurora" declared that the President

had violated the Constitution, and made a treaty with a nation

abhorred by our people; that he answered the respectful remonstrances

of Boston and New York as if he were the omnipotent director of a

seraglio, and had thundered contempt upon the people with as much

confidence as if he sat upon the throne of "Industan."

All these remarks and many more of like tenor have been gathered

together and very picturesquely arranged by Mr. McMaster, in whose

volumes they may be studied with advantage by any one who has doubts

as to Washington's political position. It is not probable that the

writer of the brilliant diatribe just quoted had any very distinct

idea about either seraglios or "Industan," but he, and others of like

mind, probably took pleasure in the words, as did the old woman who

always loved to hear Mesopotamia mentioned. Other persons, however,

were more definite in their statements. John Beckley, who had once

been clerk of the House, writing under the very opposite signature of

"A Calm Observer," declared that Washington had been overdrawing his

salary in defiance of law, and had actually stolen in this way $4,750.

Such being the case, the "Calm Observer" very naturally inquired:

"What will posterity say of the man who has done this thing? Will it

not say that the mask of political hypocrisy has been worn by Caesar,

by Cromwell, and by Washington?" Another patriot, also of the

Democratic party, declared that the President had been false to

a republican government. He said that Washington maintained the

seclusion of a monk and the supercilious distance of a tyrant; and

that the concealing carriage drawn by supernumerary horses expressed

the will of the President, and defined the loyal duty of the people.

The support of Genet, the democratic societies, and now this concerted

and bitter opposition to the Jay treaty, convinced Washington, if

conviction were needed, that he could carry on his administration only

by the help of those who were thoroughly in sympathy with his policy

and purposes. When Jefferson left the State Department, the President

promoted Randolph, and put Bradford, a Federalist, in the place of

Attorney-General. When Hamilton left the Treasury, Oliver Wolcott,

Hamilton's right-hand man, and the staunchest of party men, was

given the position thus left vacant. If Randolph had remained in the

cabinet, he would have become a Federalist. Like all men disposed to

turn, when he was compelled to jump he sprang far, as was shown by

his signing the treaty and memorial, both of which he strongly

disapproved. He was quite ready to fall in with the rest of the

cabinet, but on account of the Fauchet dispatch he resigned. Then

Washington, after offering the portfolio to several persons known to

be in hearty sympathy with him, took the risk of giving it to Timothy

Pickering, who was by no means a safe leader, rather than take any

chance of getting another adviser who was not entirely of his own way

of thinking. At the same time he gave the secretaryship of war to

James McHenry, a most devoted personal friend and follower. He still

held back from calling himself a party chief, but he had discovered,

as William of Orange discovered, that he could not, even with his iron

will and lofty intent, overcome the impossible, alter human nature,

or carry on a successful government under a representative system,

without the assistance of a party. He stated his conclusion with his

wonted plainness in a letter to Pickering written in September, 1795,

in the midst of the struggle over the treaty. "I shall not," he said,

"whilst I have the honor to administer the government, bring a man

into any office of consequence knowingly, whose political tenets are

adverse to the measures which the general government are pursuing; for

this, in my opinion, would be a sort of political suicide. That it

would embarrass its movements is most certain." A terser statement of

the doctrine of party government it would be difficult to find, and

in the conduct of Monroe and the course of the opposition journals

Washington had ample proofs of the soundness of his theory.

If he had needed to be strengthened in his determination, his

opponents furnished the requisite aid. In February, 1796, the House

refused to adjourn on his birthday for half an hour, in order to go

and pay him their respects, as had been the pleasant custom up to that

time. The Democrats of that day were in no confusion of mind as to the

party to which Washington belonged, and they did not hesitate to put

this deliberate slight upon him in order to mark their dislike. This

was not the utterance of a newspaper editor, but the well-considered

act of the representatives of a party in Congress. Party feeling,

indeed, could hardly have gone further; and this single incident is

sufficient to dispel the pleasing delusion that party strife and

bitterness are the product of modern days, and of more advanced forms

of political organization.

Yet despite all these attacks there can be no doubt that Washington's

hold upon the masses of the people was substantially unshaken. They

would have gladly seen him assume the presidency for the third time,

and if the test had been made, thousands of men who gave their votes

to the opposition would have still supported him for the greatest

office in their gift. But this time Washington would not yield to the

wishes of his friends or of the country. He felt that he had done his

work and earned the rest and the privacy for which he longed above all

earthly things. In September, 1796, he published his farewell address,

and no man ever left a nobler political testament. Through much

tribulation he had done his great part in establishing the government

of the Union, which might easily have come to naught without his

commanding influence. He had imparted to it the dignity of his own

great character. He had sustained the splendid financial policy of

Hamilton. He had struck a fatal blow at the colonial spirit in our

politics, and had lifted up our foreign policy to a plane worthy of an

independent nation. He had stricken off the fetters which impeded the

march of western settlement, and without loss of honor had gained time

to enable our institutions to harden and become strong. He had made

peace with our most dangerous enemies, and, except in the case of

France, where there were perilous complications to be solved by his

successor, he left the United States in far better and more honorable

relations with the rest of the world than even the most sanguine would

have dared to hope when the Constitution was formed. Now from the

heights of great achievement he turned to say farewell to the people

whom he so much loved, and whom he had so greatly served. Every word

was instinct with the purest and wisest patriotism. "Be united," he

said; "be Americans. The name which belongs to you, in your national

capacity, must exalt the just pride of patriotism more than any

appellation derived from local discriminations. Let there be no

sectionalism, no North, South, East or West; you are all dependent one

on another, and should be one in union. Beware of attacks, open or

covert, upon the Constitution. Beware of the baneful effects of

party spirit and of the ruin to which its extremes must lead. Do not

encourage party spirit, but use every effort to mitigate and assuage

it. Keep the departments of government separate, promote education,

cherish the public credit, avoid debt. Observe justice and good faith

toward all nations; have neither passionate hatreds nor passionate

attachments to any; and be independent politically of all. In one

word, be a nation, be Americans, and be true to yourselves."

His admonitions were received by the people at large with profound

respect, and sank deep into the public mind. As the generations have

come and gone, the farewell address has grown dearer to the hearts of

the people, and the children and the children's children of those to

whom it was addressed have turned to it in all times and known that

there was no room for error in following its counsel.

Yet at the moment, notwithstanding the general sadness at Washington's

retirement and the deep regard for his last words of advice, the

opposition was so thoroughly hostile that they seized on the address

itself as a theme for renewed attack upon its author. "His character,"

said one Democrat, "can only be respectable while it is not known; he

is arbitrary, avaricious, ostentatious; without skill as a soldier, he

has crept into fame by the places he has held. His financial measures

burdened the many to enrich the few. History will tear the pages

devoted to his praise. France and his country gave him fame, and they

will take that fame away." "His glory has dissolved in mist," said

another writer, "and he has sunk from the high level of Solon or

Lycurgus to the mean rank of a Dutch Stadtholder or a Venetian

Doge. Posterity will look in vain for any marks of wisdom in his

administration."

To thoughtful persons these observations are not without a curious

interest, as showing that even the wisest of men may be in error. The

distinguished Democrat who uttered these remarks has been forgotten,

and the page of history on which Washington's name was inscribed is

still untorn. The passage of the address, however, which gave the most

offense, as Mr. McMaster points out, was, as might have been expected

from the colonial condition of our politics, that which declared it

to be our true policy "to steer clear of permanent alliances with any

portion of the foreign world." This, it was held, simply meant that,

having made a treaty with England, we were to be stopped from making

one with France. Another distinguished editor declared that the

farewell address came from the meanest of motives; that the President

knew he could not be reelected because the Republicans would have

united to supersede him with Adams, who had the simplicity of a

Republican, while Washington had the ostentation of an Eastern Pasha,

and it was in order to save himself from this humiliation that he had

cunningly resigned.

When Washington met his last Congress, William Giles of Virginia took

the opportunity afforded by the usual answer to the President's speech

to assail him personally. It would be of course a gross injustice to

suppose that a coarse political ruffian like Giles really represented

the Democratic party. But he represented the extreme wing, and after

he had declared in his place that Washington was neither wise nor

patriotic, and that his retirement was anything but a calamity, he got

twelve of his party friends to sustain his sentiments by voting

with him. The press was even more unbridled, and it was said in the

"Aurora" at this time that Washington had debauched and deceived

the nation, and that his administration had shown that the mask of

patriotism may be worn to conceal the foulest dangers to the liberties

of the people. Over and over again it was said by these writers that

he had betrayed France and was the slave of England.

This charge of being a British sympathizer was the only one of all the

abuse heaped upon him by the opposition that Washington seems really

to have resented. In August, 1794, when this slander first started

from the prolific source of all attacks against the government, he

wrote to Henry Lee: "With respect to the words said to have been

uttered by Mr. Jefferson, they would be enigmatical to those who are

acquainted with the characters about me, unless supposed to be spoken

ironically; and in that case they are too injurious to me, and have

too little foundation in truth, to be ascribed to him. There could not

be the trace of doubt in his mind of predilection in mine toward Great

Britain or her politics, unless, which I do not believe, he has set me

down as one of the most deceitful and uncandid men living; because,

not only in private conversations between ourselves on this subject,

but in my meetings with the confidential servants of the public, he

has heard me often, when occasions presented themselves, express very

different sentiments, with an energy that could not be mistaken by any

one present.

"Having determined, as far as lay within the power of the executive,

to keep this country in a state of neutrality, I have made my public

conduct accord with the system; and whilst so acting as a public

character, consistency and propriety as a private man forbid those

intemperate expressions in favor of one nation, or to the prejudice of

another, which may have wedged themselves in, and, I will venture to

add, to the embarrassment of government, without producing any good to

the country."

He had shown by his acts as well as by his words his real friendship

for France, such as a proper sense of gratitude required. As has been

already pointed out, rather than run the risk of seeming to reflect in

the slightest degree upon the government of the French republic, he

had refused even to receive distinguished _émigrés_ like Noailles,

Liancourt, and Talleyrand.[1] He was so scrupulous in this respect

that he actually did violence to his own strong desires in not taking

into his house at once the son of Lafayette; and when it became

necessary to choose a successor to Morris, his anxiety was so great

to select some one agreeable to France that he took such an avowed

opponent of his administration as Monroe.

[Footnote 1: See the Letter to the Due de Liancourt explaining the

reasons for his not being received by the President. (Sparks, xi.

161.)]

On the other hand, he had never lost the strong feeling of hostility

toward England which he, above all men, had felt during the

Revolution. The conduct of England, when he was seeking an honorable

peace with her, tried his patience severely. He wrote to Morris in

1795: "I give you these details (and if you should again converse with

Lord Grenville on the subject, you are at liberty, unofficially,

to mention them, or any of them, according to circumstances), as

evidences of the unpolitic conduct (for so it strikes me) of the

British government towards these United States; that it may be

seen how difficult it has been for the executive, under such an

accumulation of irritating circumstances, to maintain the ground of

neutrality which had been taken; and at a time when the remembrance

of the aid we had received from France in the Revolution was fresh in

every mind, and while the partisans of that country were continually

contrasting the affections of _that_ people with the unfriendly

disposition of the _British government_. And that, too, as I have

observed before, while _their own_ sufferings during the war with the

latter had not been forgotten." The one man in the country who above

all others had the highest conception of American nationality, who

was the first to seek to lift up our politics from the low level of

colonialism, who was the author of the neutrality policy, had reason

to resent the bitter irony of an attack which represented him as a

British sympathizer. The truth is, that the only foreign party at that

time was that which identified itself with France, and which was

the party of Jefferson and the opposition. The Federalists and

the administration under the lead of Washington and Hamilton were

determined that the government should be American and not French, and

this in the eyes of their opponents was equivalent to being in the

control of England. In after years, when the Federalists fell from

power and declined into the position of a factious minority, they

became British sympathizers, and as thoroughly colonial in their

politics as the party of Jefferson had been. If they had had the

wisdom of their better days they would then have made themselves the

champions of the American idea, and would have led the country in the

determined effort to free itself once for all from colonial politics,

even if they were obliged to fight somebody to accomplish it. They

proved unequal to the task, and it fell to a younger generation led by

Henry Clay and his contemporaries to sweep Federalist and Jeffersonian

republican alike, with their French and British politics, out of

existence. In so doing the younger generation did but complete the

work of Washington, for he it was who first trod the path and marked

the way for a true American policy in the midst of men who could not

understand his purposes.

Bitter and violent as had been the attacks upon Washington while he

held office, they were as nothing compared to the shout of fierce

exultation which went up from the opposition journals when he finally

retired from the presidency. One extract will serve as an example of

the general tone of the opposition journals throughout the country. It

is to be found in the "Aurora" of March 6, 1797:--

"'Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace,' was the

pious ejaculation of a pious man who beheld a flood of happiness

rushing in upon mankind. If ever there was a time that would

license the reiteration of the ejaculation, that time has now

arrived, for the man who is the source of all the misfortunes

of our country is this day reduced to a level with his

fellow-citizens, and is no longer possessed of power to multiply

evils upon the United States. If ever there was a period for

rejoicing, this is the moment. Every heart in unison with the

freedom and happiness of the people ought to beat high with

exultation that the name of Washington ceases from this day to

give currency to political insults, and to legalize corruption. A

new era is now opening upon us, an era which promises much to the

people, for public measures must now stand upon their own merits,

and nefarious projects can no longer be supported by a name. When

a retrospect has been taken of the Washingtonian administration

for eight years, it is a subject of the greatest astonishment

that a single individual should have cankered the principles of

republicanism in an enlightened people just emerged from the gulf

of despotism, and should have carried his designs against the

public liberty so far as to have put in jeopardy its very

existence. Such, however, are the facts, and with these staring us

in the face, the day ought to be a JUBILEE in the United States."

This was not the outburst of a single malevolent spirit. The article

was copied and imitated in New York and Boston, and wherever the

party that called Jefferson leader had a representative among the

newspapers. It is not probable that stuff of this sort gave Washington

himself a moment's anxiety, for he knew too well what he had done, and

he was too sure of his own hold upon the hearts of the people, to be

in the least disturbed by the attacks of hostile editors. But the

extracts are of interest as showing that the opposition party of that

time, the party organized and led by Jefferson, regarded Washington as

their worst enemy, and assailed him and slandered him to the utmost.

They even went so far as to borrow materials from the enemies of the

country with whom we had lately been at war, by publishing the forged

letters attributed to Washington, and circulated by the British in

1777, in order to discredit the American general. One of Washington's

last acts, on March 3, 1797, was to file in the State Department a

solemn declaration that these letters, then republished by an American

political party, were base forgeries, of English origin in a time of

war. His own view of this performance is given in a letter to Benjamin

Walker, in which he said: "Amongst other attempts, ... spurious

letters, known at the time of their first publication (I believe in

the year 1777) to be forgeries, are (or extracts from them) brought

forward with the highest emblazoning of which they are susceptible,

with a view to attach principles to me which every action of my life

has given the lie to. But that is no stumbling-block with the editors

of these papers and their supporters."

Two or three extracts from private letters will show how Washington

regarded the course of the opposition, and the interpretation he put

upon their attacks. After sketching in a letter to David Stuart the

general course of the hostilities toward his administration, he said:

"This not working so well as was expected, from a supposition that

there was too much confidence in, and perhaps personal regard for, the

present chief magistrate and his politics, the batteries have lately

been leveled against him particularly and personally. Although he is

soon to become a private citizen, his opinions are knocked down, and

his character reduced as low as they are capable of sinking it, even

by resorting to absolute falsehoods." Again he said, just before

leaving office: "To misrepresent my motives, to reprobate my

politics, and to weaken the confidence which has been reposed in my

administration, are objects which cannot be relinquished by those who

will be satisfied with nothing short of a change in our political

system." He at least labored under no misapprehension after eight

years of trial as to the position or purposes of the party which had

fought him and his administration, and which had savagely denounced

his measures at every step, and with ever-increasing violence.

Having defined the attitude of the opposition, we can now consider

that of Washington himself after he had retired from office, and no

longer felt restrained by the circumstances of his election to the

presidency from openly declaring his views, or publicly identifying

himself with a political party. He rightly regarded the administration

of Mr. Adams as a continuation of his own, and he gave to it a cordial

support. He was equally clear and determined in his distrust and

dislike of the opposition. Not long before leaving office he had

written a letter to Jefferson, which, while it exonerated that

gentleman from being the author of certain peculiarly malicious

attacks, showed very plainly that the writer completely understood the

position occupied by his former secretary. It was a letter which

must have been most unpleasant reading for the person to whom it

was addressed. A year later he wrote to John Nicholas in regard

to Jefferson: "Nothing short of the evidence you have adduced,

corroborative of intimations which I had received long before through

another channel, could have shaken my belief in the sincerity of a

friendship which I had conceived was possessed for me by the person to

whom you allude." There was no doubt in his mind now as to Jefferson's

conduct, and he knew at last that he had been his foe even when a

member of his political household.

When the time came to fill the offices in the provisional army made

necessary by the menace of war with France, Washington wrote to the

President that he ought to have generals who were men of activity,

energy, health, and "sound politics," carrying apparently his

suspicion of the opposition even to disbelieving in them as soldiers.

He repeated the same idea in a letter to McHenry, in which he said:

"I do not conceive that a desirable set could be formed from the old

generals, some having never displayed any talent for enterprise,

and others having shown a general opposition to the government, or

predilection to French measures, be their present conduct what it

may."

When the question arose in regard to the relative rank of the

major-generals, Washington said to Knox: "No doubt remained in my mind

that Colonel Hamilton was designated second in command (and first, if

I should decline an acceptance) by the Federal characters of Congress;

whence alone anything like a public sentiment relative thereto could

be deduced." He was quite clear that there was no use in looking

beyond the confines of the Federal party for any public sentiment

worth considering. He had serious doubts also as to the advisability

of having the opponents of the government in the army, and wrote to

McHenry on September 30, 1798, that brawlers against the government in

certain parts of Virginia had suddenly become silent and were seeking

commissions in the army. "The motives ascribed to them are that in

such a situation they would endeavor to divide and contaminate the

army by artful and seditious discourses, and perhaps at a critical

moment bring on confusion. What weight to give to these conjectures

you can judge as well as I. But as there will be characters enough

of an opposite description who are ready to receive appointments,

circumspection is necessary. Finding the resentment of the people

at the conduct of France too strong to be resisted, they have in

appearance adopted their sentiments, and pretend that, notwithstanding

the misconduct of the government has brought it upon us, yet if an

invasion should take place, it will be found that _they_ will be among

the first to defend it. This is their story at all elections and

election meetings, and told in many instances with effect." He wrote

again in the same strain to McHenry, on October 21: "Possibly no

injustice would be done, if I were to proceed a step further, and give

it as an opinion that most of the candidates [for the army] brought

forward by the opposition members possess sentiments similar to their

own, and might poison the army by disseminating them, if they were

appointed." In this period of danger, when the country was on the

verge of war, the attitude of the opposition gave Washington much food

for thought because it appeared to him so false and unpatriotic. In

a letter to Lafayette, written on Christmas day, 1798, he gave the

following brief sketch of the opposition: "A party exists in the

United States, formed by a combination of causes, which opposed the

government in all its measures, and are determined, as all their

conduct evinces, by clogging its wheels indirectly to change the

nature of it, and to subvert the Constitution. The friends of

government, who are anxious to maintain its neutrality and to preserve

the country in peace, and adopt measures to secure these objects, are

charged by them as being monarchists, aristocrats, and infractors of

the Constitution, which according to their interpretation of it would

be a mere cipher. They arrogated to themselves ... the sole merit of

being the friends of France, when in fact they had no more regard for

that nation than for the Grand Turk, further than their own views

were promoted by it; denouncing those who differed in opinion (those

principles are purely American and whose sole view was to observe

a strict neutrality) as acting under British influence, and being

directed by her counsels, or as being her pensioners."

Shortly before this sharp definition was written, an incident had

occurred which had given Washington an opportunity of impressing his

views directly and personally upon a distinguished leader of the

opposite party. Dr. Logan of Philadelphia, under the promptings of

Jefferson, as was commonly supposed, had gone on a volunteer mission

to Paris for the purpose of bringing about peace between the two

republics. He had apparently a fixed idea that there was something

very monstrous in our having any differences with France, and being

somewhat of a busybody, although a most worthy man, he felt called

upon to settle the international complications which were then

puzzling the brains and trying the patience of the ablest men in

America. It is needless to say that his mission was not a success, and

he was eventually so unmercifully ridiculed by the Federalist editors

that he published a long pamphlet in his own defense. Upon his return,

however, he seems to have been not a little pleased with himself, and

he took occasion to call upon Washington, who was then in Philadelphia

on business. It would be difficult to conceive anything more

distasteful to Washington than such a mission as Logan's, or that he

could have a more hearty contempt for any one than for a meddler of

this description, who by his interference might help to bring his

country into contempt. He was sufficiently impressed, however, by Dr.

Logan's call to draw up a memorandum, which gave a very realistic and

amusing account of it. It may be surmised that when Washington wished

to be cold in his manner, he was capable of being very freezing, and

he was not very apt at concealing his emotions when he found himself

in the presence of any one whom he disliked and disapproved. The

memorandum is as follows:--

"_Tuesday, November_ 13, 1798.--Mr. Lear, my secretary, being from our

lodgings on business, one of my servants came into the room where

I was writing and informed me that a gentleman in the parlor below

desired to see me; no name was sent up. In a few minutes I went down,

and found the Rev. Dr. Blackwell and Dr. Logan there. I advanced

towards and gave my hand to the former; the latter did the same

towards me. I was backward in giving mine. He, possibly supposing from

hence that I did not recollect him, said his name was Logan. Finally,

in a very cold manner, and with an air of marked indifference, I gave

him my hand and asked _Dr. Blackwell to be seated_; the other _took_

a seat at the same time. I addressed _all_ my conversation to Dr.

Blackwell; the other all his to me, to which I only gave negative or

affirmative answers as laconically as I could, except asking him how

Mrs. Logan did. He seemed disposed to be very polite, and while Dr.

Blackwell and myself were conversing on the late calamitous fever,

offered me an asylum at his house, if it should return or I thought

myself in any danger in the city, and two or three rooms, by way of

accommodation. I thanked him slightly, observing there would be no

call for it."

"About this time Dr. Blackwell took his leave. We all rose from our

seats, and I moved a few paces toward the door of the room, expecting

the other would follow and take his leave also."

The worthy Quaker, however, was not to be got rid of so easily. He

literally stood his ground, and went on talking of a number of things,

chiefly about Lafayette and his family, and an interview with Mr.

Murray, our minister in Holland. Washington, meanwhile, stood facing

him, and to use his own words, "showed the utmost inattention," while

his visitor described his journey to Paris. Finally Logan said that

his purpose in going to France was to ameliorate the condition of

our relations with that country. "This," said Washington, "drew my

attention more pointedly to what he was saying and induced me to

remark that there was something very singular in this; that _he_,

who could only be viewed as a private character, unarmed with proper

powers, and presumptively unknown in France, should suppose he could

effect what three gentlemen of the first respectability in our

country, especially charged under the authority of the government,

were unable to do." One is not surprised to be then told that Dr.

Logan seemed a little confounded at this observation; but he recovered

himself, and went on to say that only five persons knew of his going,

and that his letters from Mr. Jefferson and Mr. McKean obtained for

him an interview with M. Merlin, president of the Directory, who had

been most friendly in his expressions. To this Washington replied

with some very severe strictures on the conduct of France; and the

conversation, which must by this time have become a little strained,

soon after came to an end. One cannot help feeling a good deal of

sympathy for the excellent doctor, although he was certainly a

busybody and, one would naturally infer, a bore as well. It would have

been, however, a pity to have lost this memorandum, and there is every

reason to regret that Washington did not oftener exercise his evident

powers for realistic reporting. Nothing, moreover, could bring out

better his thorough contempt for the opposition and their attitude

toward France than this interview with the volunteer commissioner.

There were, however, much more serious movements made by the

Democratic party than well-meant and meddling attempts to make

peace with France. This was the year of the Kentucky and Virginia

resolutions, the first note of that disunion sentiment which was

destined one day to involve the country in civil war and be fought out

on a hundred battlefields. Washington, with his love for the Union and

for nationality ever uppermost in his heart, was quick to take alarm,

and it cut him especially to think that a movement which he esteemed

at once desperate and wicked should emanate from his own State, and as

we now know, and as he perhaps suspected, from a great Virginian

whom he had once trusted. He straightway set himself to oppose this

movement with all his might, and he summoned to his aid that other

great Virginian who in his early days had been the first to rouse the

people against oppression, and who now in his old age, in response to

Washington's appeal, came again into the forefront in behalf of the

Constitution and the union of the States. The letter which Washington

wrote to Patrick Henry on this occasion is one of the most important

that he ever penned, but there is room to quote only a single passage

here.

"At such a crisis as this," he said, "when everything dear and

valuable to us is assailed, when this party hangs upon the wheels of

government as a dead weight, opposing every measure that is calculated

for defense and self-preservation, abetting the nefarious views of

another nation upon our rights, preferring, as long as they dare

contend openly against the spirit and resentment of the people, the

interest of France to the welfare of their own country, justifying

the former at the expense of the latter; when every act of their own

government is tortured, by constructions they will not bear, into

attempts to infringe and trample upon the Constitution with a view to

introduce monarchy; when the most unceasing and the purest exertions

which were making to maintain a neutrality ... are charged with being

measures calculated to favor Great Britain at the expense of France,

and all those who had any agency in it are accused of being under

the influence of the former and her pensioners; when measures are

systematically and pertinaciously pursued, which must eventually

dissolve the Union or produce coercion; I say, when these things have

become so obvious, ought characters who are best able to rescue their

country from the pending evil to remain at home?...

"Vain will it be to look for peace and happiness, or for the security

of liberty or property, if civil discord should ensue. And what else

can result from the policy of those among us, who, by all the measures

in their power, are driving matters to extremity, if they cannot be

counteracted effectually? The views of men can only be known, or

guessed at, by their words or actions. Can those of the _leaders_ of

opposition be mistaken, then, if judged by this rule? That they are

followed by numbers, who are unacquainted with their designs and

suspect as little the tendency of their principles, I am fully

persuaded. But if their conduct is viewed with indifference, if there

are activity and misrepresentations on one side and supineness on

the other, their numbers accumulated by intriguing and discontented

foreigners under proscription, who were at war with their own

government, and the greater part of them with _all_ governments, they

will increase, and nothing short of omniscience can foretell the

consequences."

It would have been difficult to draw a severer indictment of the

opposition party than that given in this letter, but there is one

other letter even more striking in its contents, without which no

account of the relation of Washington to the two great parties which

sprang up under his administration would be complete. It was addressed

to Governor Trumbull of Connecticut, was written on July 21, 1799,

less than six months before his death, and although printed, has

been hidden away in the appendix to the "Life of Benjamin Silliman."

Governor Trumbull, who bore the name and filled the office of

Washington's old revolutionary friend, had written to the general, as

many other Federalists were writing at that time, urging him to come

forward and stand once more for the presidency, that he might heal the

dissensions in his own party and save the country from the impending

disaster of Jefferson's election. That Washington refused all these

requests is of course well known, but his reasons as stated to

Trumbull are of great interest. "I come now," he said, "my dear sir,

to pay particular attention to that part of your letter which respects

myself.

"I remember well the conversation which you allude to. I have not

forgot the answer I gave you. In my judgment it applies with as much

force _now_ as _then_; nay, more, because at that time the line

between the parties was not so clearly drawn, and the views of the

opposition so clearly developed as they are at present. Of course

allowing your observation (as it respects myself) to be well founded,

personal influence would be of no avail.

"Let that party set up a broomstick, and call it a true son of

liberty,--a democrat,--or give it any other epithet that will suit

their purpose, and it will command their votes _in toto_![1] Will not

the Federalists meet, or rather defend, their cause on the opposite

ground? Surely they must, or they will discover a want of policy,

indicative of weakness and pregnant of mischief, which cannot be

admitted. Wherein, then, would lie the difference between the present

gentleman in office and myself?

[Footnote 1: "As an analysis of this position, look to the pending

election of governor in Pennsylvania."]

"It would be matter of grave regret to me if I could believe that a

serious thought was turned toward me as his successor, not only as

it respects my ardent wishes to pass through the vale of life in

retirement, undisturbed in the remnant of the days I have to sojourn

here, unless called upon to defend my country (which every citizen is

bound to do); but on public grounds also; for although I have abundant

cause to be thankful for the good health with which I am blessed, yet

I am not insensible to my declination in other respects. It would

be criminal, therefore, in me, although it should be the wish of my

countrymen and I could be elected, to accept an office under this

conviction which another would discharge with more ability; and this,

too, at a time when I am thoroughly convinced I should not draw a

_single_ vote from the anti-Federal side, and of course should stand

upon no other ground _than any other Federal character_[1] well

supported; and when I should become a mark for the shafts of envenomed

malice and the basest calumny to fire at,--when I should be charged

not only with irresolution but with concealed ambition, which waits

only an occasion to blaze out, and, in short, with dotage and

imbecility.

[Footnote 1: These italics are mine.]

"All this, I grant, ought to be like dust in the balance, when put in

competition with a _great_ public good, when the accomplishment of it

is apparent. But, as no problem is better defined in my mind than that

principle, not men, is now, and will be, the object of contention; and

that I could not obtain a _solitary_ vote from that party; _that any

other respectable Federal character could receive the same suffrages

that I should_;[1] that at my time of life (verging towards threescore

and ten) I should expose myself without rendering any essential

service to my country, or answering the end contemplated; prudence on

my part must avert any attempt of the well-meant but mistaken views of

my friends to introduce me again into the chair of government."

[Footnote 1: These italics are mine.]

It does not fall within the scope of this biography to attempt to

portray the history or weigh the merits of the two parties which came

into existence at the close of the last century, and which, under

varying names, have divided the people of the United States ever

since. But it is essential here to define the relation of Washington

toward them because one hears it constantly said and sees it as

constantly written down, that Washington belonged to no party, which

is perhaps a natural, but is certainly a complete misconception.

Washington came to the presidency by a unanimous vote. He had in his

mind very strongly the idea of the framers of the Constitution that

the President, by the method of his election and by his independence

of the other departments of government, was to be above and beyond

party, and the representative of the whole people. In addition to this

he was so absorbed by the great conception which he had of the future

of the country, and was so confident of the purity and rectitude of

his own purposes, that he was loath to think that party divisions

could arise while he held the chief magistracy. It was not long

before he was undeceived on this point, and he soon found that party

divisions sprang up from the measures of his own administration.

Nevertheless, he clung to his determination to govern without the

assistance of a party as such. When this, too, became impossible, he

still felt that the unanimity of his election required that he should

not declare himself to be the head of a party; but he had become

thoroughly convinced that under the representative system of the

Constitution party government could not be avoided. In his farewell

address he warned the people against the excesses of that party

spirit which he deplored; but he did not suggest that it could be

extinguished. Being a wise and far-seeing man, he saw that if party

government was an evil, it also was under a free representative

system, and in the present condition of human nature a necessary evil,

furnishing the only machinery by which public affairs could be carried

on.

In a time of deep political excitement and strong party feeling,

Washington was the last man in the world not to be decidedly on one

side or the other. He was possessed of too much sense, force, and

virility to be content to hold himself aloof and croak over the

wickedness of people, who were trying to do something, even if

they did not always try in the most perfect way. He was himself

preëminently a doer of deeds, and not a critic or a phrase-maker, and

we can read very distinctly in the extracts which have been brought

together in this chapter what he thought on party and public

questions. He was opposed to the party which had resisted all the

great measures of his administration from the foundation of the

government of the United States. They had assailed and maligned him

and his ministers, and he regarded them as political enemies. He

believed in the principles of that party which had supported the

financial policy of Hamilton and his own policy of neutrality toward

foreign nations. He was opposed to the party which introduced the

interests of France as the leading issue of American politics, and

which embodied the doctrines of nullification and separatism in the

resolutions of Kentucky and Virginia. In one word, Washington, in

policies and politics, was an American and a Nationalist; and the

National and American party, from 1789 to 1801, was the Federalist

party. It may be added that it was the only party which, at that

precise time, could claim those qualities. While he remained in the

presidency he would not declare himself to be of any party; but as

soon as this fetter was removed, he declared himself freely after his

fashion, expressing in words what he had formerly only expressed in

action. His feelings warmed and strengthened as the controversy with

France deepened, and as the attitude of the opposition became more

un-American and leaned more and more to separatism. They culminated

at last in the eloquent letter to Patrick Henry, and in the carefully

weighed words with which he tells Trumbull that he can hope for no

more votes than "any other Federal character."