Then arose spontaneously in every mind the question, “Who shall command our army in this crisis?” and in every mind was the same response. All hearts turned instinctively toward Washington as the only man in the nation fitted for that important trust. The loud, harsh voice of party spirit was hushed to a whisper; and men who had joined in the clamor of reproach against the late president because of his public measures, were among the first, in this hour of peril, to turn to him as the only leader in whom they might implicitly trust. Intimations of this nature reached Washington almost daily while Congress were busy in preparing for war; and finally, near the close of May, Hamilton, in a confidential and highly interesting letter, wrote to him, saying:—
“At the present dangerous crisis of public affairs, I make no apology for troubling you with a political letter. Your impressions of our situation, I am persuaded, are not different from mine. There is certainly great probability that we may have to enter into a very serious struggle with France; and it is more and more evident that the powerful faction which has for years opposed the government is determined to go every length with France. I am sincere in declaring my full conviction, as the result of a long course of observation, that they are ready to new model our constitution, under the influence or coercion of France; to form with her a perpetual alliance, offensive and defensive; and to give her a monopoly of our trade, by peculiar and exclusive privileges. This would be in substance, whatever it might be in name, to make this country a province of France. Neither do I doubt that her standard, displayed in this country, would be directly or indirectly seconded by them, in pursuance of the project I have mentioned.
“It is painful and alarming to remark that the opposition faction assumes so much a geographical complexion. As yet, from the south of Maryland, nothing has been heard but accounts of disapprobation of our government, and approbation of our apology for France. This is a most portentous symptom, and demands every human effort to change it.
“In such a state of public affairs, it is impossible not to look up to you, and to wish that your influence could in some proper mode be brought into direct action.” Hamilton then suggested the propriety of Washington's taking a tour southward, which would call out the people in public demonstrations, and would give him an opportunity of expressing sentiments which would throw the weight of his character into the scale of the government, and revive an enthusiasm for his person that might be turned into a right channel. He concluded by saying: “You ought to be aware, my dear sir, that in the event of an open rupture with France, the public voice will again call you to command the armies of your country; and, though all who are attached to you will, from attachment, as well as public considerations, deplore an occasion which should once more tear you from that repose to which you have so good a right, yet it is the opinion of all those with whom I converse that you will be compelled to make the sacrifice. All your past labor may demand, to give it efficacy, this further—this great sacrifice.”
Notwithstanding these alarm-bell notes from Hamilton, in whose political sagacity Washington had unbounded confidence, he could not bring himself to believe that actual war between the two countries would ensue. “You may be assured,” he replied, “that my mind is deeply impressed with the present situation of our public affairs, and not a little agitated by the outrageous conduct of France toward the United States, and at the unparalleled conduct of its partisans, who aid and abet their measures. You may believe further, from assurances equally sincere, that, if there was anything in my power, which could be done with consistency, to avert or lessen the danger of the crisis, it should be rendered with hand and heart.
“But, my dear sir, dark as matters appear at present, and expedient as it is to be prepared at all points for the worst that can happen—and no one is more disposed to this measure than I am—I can not make up my mind yet for the expectation of open war, or, in other words, for a formidable invasion by France. I can not believe, although I think them capable of anything bad, that they will attempt to do more than they have done; or that, when they perceive the spirit and policy of this country rising into resistance, and that they have falsely calculated upon support from a large part of the people thereof to promote their views and influence in it, they will not desist even from these practices, unless unexpected events in Europe, and their possession of Louisiana and the Floridas, should induce them to continue the measure. And I believe further, that, although the leaders of their party in this country will not change their sentiments, they will be obliged, nevertheless, to change their plan, or the mode of carrying it on, from the effervescence which is appearing in all quarters, and from the desertion of their followers, which must frown them into silence, at least for awhile.
“If I did not view things in this light, my mind would be infinitely more disquieted than it is; for, if a crisis should arrive when a sense of duty or a call from my country should become so imperious as to leave me no choice, I should prepare for the relinquishment, and go with as much reluctance from my present peaceful abode, as I should do to the tomb of my ancestors.
“To say at this time, determinately, what I should do under such circumstances, might be improper, having once before departed from a similar resolution; but I may declare to you, that, as there is no conviction in my breast that I could serve my country with more efficiency in the command of the armies it might levy than many others, an expression of its wish that I should do so must, somehow or other, be unequivocally known, to satisfy my mind, that, notwithstanding the respect in which I may be held on account of former services, a preference might not be given to a man more in his prime; and it might well be supposed, too, that I should like precisely to know who would be my coadjutors, and whether you would be disposed to take an active part, if arms are to be resorted to.”[127]
President Adams found himself placed in a most perplexing position by the authority given him by Congress to form a provisional army, with its complement of major-generals and their subordinate officers. He had no military knowledge upon which his judgment might rely. Among the surviving officers of the Revolution, he perceived none in whom he felt implicit confidence as a wise adviser, or as a proper person for generalissimo of the new army; and, like all his fellow citizens, he turned to Washington as the Mæcenas upon whose sagacious counsels the safety of the republic depended in that critical hour. He well knew how painful it would be for the retired president to be again drawn into active public life; and he also well knew that it had ever been a controlling maxim of Washington's life never to allow personal considerations to interfere with the public welfare. Impressed with this fact, Adams wrote to Washington on the twenty-second of June, saying: “In forming an army, whenever I must come to that extremity, I am at an immense loss whether to call on all the old generals, or to appoint a young set. If the French come here, we must learn to march with a quick step, and to attack, for in that way only they are said to be vulnerable. I must tax you sometimes for advice. We must have your name, if you will in any case permit us to use it. There will be more efficiency in it than in many an army.”
Four days afterward, M'Henry, the secretary of war, wrote: “You see how the storm thickens, and that our vessel will soon require its ancient pilot. Will you—may we flatter ourselves that, in a crisis so awful and important, you will accept the command of all our armies? I hope you will, because you alone can unite all hearts and all hands, if it is possible that they can be united.”