The magazine of history with notes and queries, Vol. I, No. 4, April 1905

by Various

WHEN WASHINGTON CAME TO SPRINGFIELD

In April, 1905, after the adjournment of Congress, Theodore Roosevelt, President of the United States, started on a tour of the country. On Thursday, October 15, 1789, George Washington, President of the United States, Congress having adjourned, started on a tour of the New England States. The contrasts brought out by the two journeys are so striking that it may be of interest to recall the earlier tour, and some of the conditions under which it was made. President Roosevelt began his trip in the cab of a locomotive. President Washington started in his private coach, with much ceremony, attended by six servants. President Roosevelt travelled thousands of miles to Colorado and Texas, visiting territory, the existence of which was not even dreamed of in 1789. Washington went as far from New York as Portsmouth, N. H., and required a month in which to cover the distance between the two cities. But it is not so much the outward changes in conditions as the attitude of the people which is, after all, of the chief interest. The fiction of the “good old days” is so strongly intrenched in our minds that it is very difficult to break away from it, yet the absence of bitterness to-day in the spirit of the public toward the chief magistrate is no less marked a change than the revolution in physical conditions. President Roosevelt was followed on his journey by the good will of all the people. There might be a sly hit, now and then, at his strenuous bear-hunting, rough-riding proclivities, but the attitude of the people as a whole was respectful and sympathetic. How the different classes of the people felt toward Washington, together with some descriptive hints about his journey, I have endeavored to set forth in the following letters, all drawn from historic sources, which I suppose to have been written by the following imaginary personages:—

John Adams, a young Springfield lawyer, recently from Boston.

Dorothy Coolidge of Boston, a society girl, a friend and former playmate of John Adams.

Enoch Day, keeper of a general store in West Springfield.

Peter Colton, farmer of Longmeadow.

The first letter is addressed to William Armstrong of Pittsfield, and is written by Peter Colton.

LONGMEADOW, MASS., 10th mo., 24th day, 1789.

HONORED FRIEND:

It is going on a Year since I have writ a Letter to you, but you know I have not forgot the man that saved my Life at Monmouth, and I hope you have not forgot Yr old Sargeant of Co A. I hear you are growing prosperous, and I am glad to hear it. I take my pen in hand to tell you of the Visit w’ch our old General has made to Springfield. I thank the Lord that these old Eyes has seen him once more before I die. I knew he w’ld not stop in our Town, & so I harnessed up the old horse and took my ten year old boy & started to Springf’ld. After I had bought some Codfish & molases, I tied up my horse in the First Meeting House Sheds & waited by Zenas Parsonses Tavern. The General was late, it having rained hard in the Morning, and he did not reach town till nearly Four. There was a crowd around the Tavern Steps, but no great Cheers when the General stepped out of his Handsome Coach. There was several Prominent Gentlemen to meet him, and Zenas, he was a-rubbing his hands and a-bowing, with all the servants behind him. The boys took the Horses around to the stables, & the General, he started to go in, when he sees me standing by the door. What do you suppose he did? There come over his face one of them smiles of his, like the sun breaking through the clouds on a wintry day, & he steps up and shakes my hand & he says, Why here’s my old Sargeant. And is this your Boy? a Fine lad, says he, what is his Name? George Washington Colton, says I as proud as a Peacock. He laughs, and pulls out a Silver Dollar, and gives it to the Boy & it will be handed down to his Great grand children, if he has any. Then the General says, Come up in the Evening, says he, & sit with me and the other Gentlemen. Thank you Sir, says I, saluting, I will, as soon as milking, and then he went into the Tavern, for some of the fine Gentlemen was getting quite impatient, seeing him stand talking so long with a plain farmer like me. And yet there is some Sneaks who ought to be on the gallows, that says that George Washington is cold and haughtey, and has no heed for the common People. My paper is used up, so no more at present from.

Yr faithful friend,

PETER COLTON.

The second letter is from Enoch Day, proprietor of a general store in West Springfield, to Joseph Mugridge, merchant, of Medford.

WEST SPRINGFIELD, Oct. 22, 1789.

COUSIN JOSEPH:—It is some time since I have seen you, & I hope that your business is florishing, and that you & Cousin Elizabeth, and little Betty are well. I would be getting on prety well if these blustering returned Soldiers had any thing but their filthy Continental Money to pay with. I had one put in Jail the other day, old Job Smith, up on the Northampton Road. He came down from his High Horse, after I got the Sheriff on his back & began to sniffle & whine, and talk about a sick Wife, & how he had been wounded at Trenton. I tell you, Joseph, it is our turn now, & we have gott these bare footted heros on the Hip. That white livered Sneak & Coward, G. Washington, was in Springfield, yesterday. A lot of Fools dressed up in their best, and went over the river to see him. I hear he stopped at Zene Parsons’ Tavern, and rode in a fine Coach, with four Horses, and a whole company of Lackeys to bend & crouch & lick his Boots. He is more like a King than a president, and they say he grows wors every day. I hear he has already overdrawed his salary, & has stole $4,000, and I can well believe it. What any one can see to worship in that man, I cannot understand. He is treacherous in private Friendship, a hypocrite in public life, and the World will be puzzled to know whether he is an Apostate or an Imposter, whether he has abandoned his principles or whether he ever had any. Posterity will say that the Mask of political hypocricy has been worn by Caesar, by Cromwell, and by Washington. This journey he is taking is to make political Capital. He wants a second Term in Office, & he is catering to the vote of New England. He is an aristocrat, a Monocrat, an Anglomaniac, & an American Caesar. He ought to be the Servant of the People, but he wants them to bow & treat him like a little King. We had one odious King George, & now we are burdened with another. He is not the father, but the Stepfather of the Country. A friend of mine in New York, tells me for a fact, that this man comitted murder in his youth, & you have doubtless heard of those letters of his which have been found, that prove beyond the shadow of a Doubt, that this man, who is hailed as the Saviour of the Country, was really a Coward, that he was at heart as much of a Traitor as Benedict Arnold, only he lacked Arnold’s Boldness & Courage to carry it out. I have just received a Pamphlet written by one Valerius, which ought to be scattered abroad as a patriotic Document. I will copy one particularly good paragraph for you.

“With the Constitution in one hand, and the Word of God in the other, George Washington swore to defend a republican form of government, which abhors the insidious machinery of royal imposture. Has he done so? What have been the fruits of this solemn oath? The seclusion of a monk, and the supercilious distance of a tyrant. Old habits have been on a sudden thrown away. Time was, when he more than any other, indulged the manly walk and rode the generous steed. Now to behold him afoot or on horseback, is the subject of remark. The concealing carriage drawn by supernumerary horses, expresses the will of the President, and defies the will of the people. He receives visits. He returns none. Are these Republican virtues? Do they command our esteem?”

These words, dear cousin, filled with virtuous indignation, yet so elegantly expressed, are no doubt your sentiments as well as mine. Some of our West Springfield people, I am glad to say, have shown much spirit in this matter. The last time an attempt was made to celebrate the birthday of this odious tyrant, the swabs were stolen from the cannon, so that no salute could be fired. It will be a happy day for the Country, when G. Washington, Charlatan, political Trickster, Apostate, and Coward, is removed from our midst.

Yr Cousin & ob’d’t Servant,

ENOCH DAY.

P. S. The last Rum you sent was of Prime quality. If you get any more bargains in those slightly damaged Blankets from England, wch can be sold for new, remember yr loving Cousin.

The next letter is from John Adams, to his friend and former playmate, Dorothy Coolidge of Boston.

SPRINGFIELD, MASS., October 22, 1789.

MY DEAR FRIEND DOROTHY:—

I know that I ought not to write to you again this week, but my clients are few, and time hangs heavily on my hands, out here in the backwoods. You ask me if there are no handsome Springfield girls to take my attention, and keep me from being lonely. There are some very decent-looking young ladies, whom I see when I attend divine worship in the First Church, but you know very well why I do not care to cultivate their acquaintance. There is only One—no, I will not break my promise which I made, not to propose for your hand again for six months, but you know what I mean. I am going to tell you about the visit which that noble Patriot & Friend of Mankind, President George Washington, has just made to Springfield. He was here yesterday. About four o’clock his coach came up the Main street, horses at a smart trot, and drew up with a flourish in front of Zenas Parson’s Tavern. There was a small crowd, and three cheers were give as the President stepped from his coach, but no great enthusiasm, for I am bound to say that Springfield is an anti-Federalist town, and there is already much grumbling about the government. The general remained in the tavern but a short time, when he came out, and mounting a horse set out with several officers up the Boston road, to visit the Government Stores. I learn that he was well satisfied with the location and the improvements, and predicts that there will be here one day great manufactories and warehouses for the making and storing of Munitions of War. After supper he sat for a couple of hours, until ten o’clock, with a company of gentlemen in the great room of the Tavern, before a roaring fire, for the nights are chill. I was invited, no doubt on my father’s account, for whom the General inquired kindly. There were, among others in the company, Col Worthington, Col Williams, Adjt. General of the State, Gen William Shepard, Mr Lyman, and many other respectable gentlemen of the Town. I shall never forget that evening. His Excellency talked more freely than is his wont. He is loth to speak of his own achievements, but at the urgent solicitation of Col Williams he told of his part in the Trenton campaign. He gave great praise to our Massachusetts men, particularly to the Marblehead fishermen, who ferried the army, men, horses and guns, across the river, amid the floating ice. I can very well see, Dorothy, how some men can worship him and others hate him. He is a gentleman, an aristocrat, if you please, by nature; proud, self-contained, refined in every sense of the word. Added to that he is afflicted—I think that is the right word—with an abnormal shyness and reserve. His nature suddenly draws in upon itself, leaving him silent, diffident, almost glum. He cannot speak at such times. His lips close in a firm line; he looks like a marble statue. This mood is what some men mistake for hauteur, pride, arrogance. They call him Caesar, because he does not smirk and grin, and slap every country Tom and Jerry on the back. And yet, beneath that cold exterior, there is a nature which can be as warm and as tender as Spring. Once or twice during the evening he laughed as heartily as any one. I am convinced that the reserve and apparent exclusiveness, which seems so offensive to some, is partly a natural dignity, a respect for his position, and partly a disposition which he cannot help.

But there is a quality about him which only the most superficial observer can fail to notice. The sense of it grew upon me as I sat there and watched the play of his features in the firelight. Dorothy, he is a great man, the greatest, perhaps, that our country will ever see. He is cast in the heroic mold. He belongs in the company of the elect of all the ages. Only once in centuries does Nature form such a man, and then, like Caesar and Cromwell, he must be misunderstood, because he walks in a different atmosphere from the common throng. When I was in college I went on a hunting trip in the New Hampshire wilderness. Away up there in the Northland, suddenly, from a hilltop, I saw that splendid mountain peak, which has just been rightly named Washington. Gloriously, above its fellows, it soared into the sunset sky, remote, inaccessible, companion of the stars, yet rooted in mother earth, with running stream and birds and flowers about its base. That is our Washington, and such he must ever be. Once he alluded to the slanders and vituperations, which cannot but annoy him. He spoke in a voice which had more of sadness than anger in it. “These attacks,” he said, “are outrages on common decency. But I have a consolation within that no earthly effort 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, can never reach the most vulnerable part of me, though while I am up as a mark they will be continually aimed.” The truth is, Dorothy, his public life is one continual martyrdom and self-sacrifice. He does not care for public life. He loves his farm on the Potomac—his horses and his dogs, his tobacco and his wheat, and he would be happier there than in any office which the people can give him. This talk about his being unrepublican is absurd. No man could be more ardently republican. He went into the war from pure sentiment and love of the country. He would have fought in the ranks, if his place had not been in the saddle. He believes, as every man must, in a strong central government, but monarchial institutions he abhors.

At the stroke of ten he arose, and we stood and remained standing as he bade us a gracious good-night and left the room. There was no laughter and loud talking as we went away. A spell seemed to be upon us, the spell of his dignity and nobility and greatness. This morning at seven he started for Boston. May God go with him.

I must say good-night, Dorothy. I wish I could see you. Could you not write more often than once a week? It is very lonely here, but Springfield is really a lovely place. The river, as it comes sweeping down from the hills, is beautiful. There is a very pretty society here for a small town, and some assemblies. I think you love the country. I think that a girl, even one who had been brought up in Boston, might under certain circumstances be happy here. Good-night, again, and Farewell.

Ever your ob’d’t Servant and well-wisher,

JOHN.

The last letter is a reply to the preceding.

BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS, Nov. 5, 1789.

MY DEAR FRIEND JACK:—

You needn’t abuse me so, sir, because I have not written to you for more than two Weeks. How could I write, with the President here, & so many Balls and Assemblies. Besides, I write quite as often as is good for you. I had thought of not writing any more to you, sir. I am afraid that it may interfere with yr important Business. But I won’t stop—just yet. I have seen yr Paragon, George Washington. He reached here on Saturday after he was in Springfield, & it was a Gala-day for Boston. There was a great Procession, Militia, marching very straight and fine, trades-people, each guild with the Device of its Craft, and many Gentlemen on horseback. Near the State-house was a triumphal Arch, built acrost the street. On one side were the words, “The Man Who Unites All Hearts.” On the Other “To Columbia’s Favorite Son.” On the top of the Arch there was a stuffed Eagle. The school children were drawn up in line, & saluted by rolling their writing quills in their hands. The General rode a splendid white Horse, and looked every inch the hero, in his blue and buff uniform. He held his Hat in his hand, and bowed slightly to left and right. He went into the State-house, and came out on the Balcony. Then the great throng below went wild with Enthusiasm. By and by, when they could be heard, a select Choir sang an Ode written for the occasion.

On Sunday morning his Excellency went to Church & sat in the Pew behind ours. I had a new hat, which I think is very becoming. It has a large brim, a gauze crown, & a broad bow with long ends at the back, and it was trimmed with three Ostrich Feathers. What do you suppose that ridiculous old anti-Federalist governor Hancock did? He refused to call on the President, saying that it was the President’s place to call upon his High Mightiness. The People were so angry, that threats of violence were heard. You know that the President is stopping at the Widow Ingersoll’s just opposite our house. Well, I was looking out, when, about two o’clock, the Governor’s Coach drew up. His gouty legs were done up in red Flannel & his lackeys carried him in, to see the President. Later the President went and drank tea with him and Mrs Hancock. I wouldn’t have returned such a call. My father was very much pleased. He said that settled one thing forever, that the National Government was supreme, and the States must take second place.

Wednesday night was the Assembly. I had a lovely pink Silk Gown, made new for the great occasion, & I wore as all the young ladies did, a broad white Satin sash, with G. W. in gold letters, with a laurel Wreath around them. On one end of the sash was painted an American Eagle, & on the other a Fleur-de-lis. I saw yr honored Mother, and she was very gracious to me. She looked very Handsome & Stately, in a beautiful Velvit gown, and the sash like ours, only black with gold letters and Devices.

I had the honor of a Dance with his Excellency, and he was pleased to be most charming in his Manner. He complimented my appearance, and said that he had found our New England ladies quite as Handsome as those in the South. I felt more complimented when he talked with me about public Affairs here, & I know that I blushed when he praised my knowledge of Politics. I admired yr description of him, & I know it is true. I could feel his nobility and greatness of Soul. Oh, Jack, how can anyone say such horrid things of him, when he is so Pure, so High minded, when he is the Saviour of our Country. When he stood there on the balcony of the State-house, with everybody cheering and shouting, I could not help thinking of him as he was at Valley Forge, cold & hungry, sacrificing everything for his soldiers, and the tears of gratitude & affection came into my eyes. Well, he is gone, and I pray he may return safely Home. I suppose he will not go through Springfield on his way back. I asked him about Springfield, and he said it was no great Town, but Lovely in situation, and that Zenas Parson’s Tavern was a good one. I think—I am not sure—but perhaps, under certain circumstances, a city girl might be happy in the country. But this letter is too long. I meant to punish you by making it short. You need not expect another for at least a Month. This is to be a very gay winter, & I doubt not, I shall be much sought after, so I shall have small time to write to my friends in the Country.

Yours, with some kindness,

DOROTHY.

The careful historical student may find some anachronisms in these letters, yet in the main they give a true account of the time “when Washington came to Springfield,” and rode, with his coach and four along the New England highways, in the bright autumn weather.

SPRINGFIELD, MASS. NEWTON M. HALL.

(Read before the S. A. R., Springfield.)