At twelve o'clock the procession, under the general command of Colonel Morgan Lewis, began to form in Cherry street before the president's house; and at half-past twelve Washington entered his carriage, accompanied by Colonel Humphreys, his aid-de-camp, and Tobias Lear, his private secretary, and proceeded to the Federal hall, escorted by a large number of the military, and followed by heads of departments, members of Congress, foreign ministers, and other distinguished citizens and strangers.
When near the Federal hall, Washington and his attendants alighted from the carriages, and were conducted by a marshall to the senate-chamber, at the door of which the president was received by Vice-President Adams (who had been inaugurated some time before) and conducted to his seat. In the presence of both houses of Congress then assembled, the vice-president, addressing Washington, said: “Sir, the senate and house of representatives of the United States are ready to attend you to take the oath required by the constitution, which will be administered by the chancellor of the state of New York.”
Washington responded: “I am ready to proceed;” when the vice-president, senators, and chancellor, led the way to the open outside gallery at the front of the hall, in full view of the vast multitude that, with upturned faces and hushed voices, filled the streets. The scene that ensued was most solemn and momentous; and the immediate actors in it felt the weight of great responsibility resting upon them.
The entrance of the president upon the balcony “was hailed by universal shouts,” says Washington Irving, who, though quite a young child, was present, and distinctly remembers the scene. “He was evidently moved by this demonstration of public affection. Advancing to the front of the balcony, he laid his hand upon his heart, bowed several times, and then retreated to an arm-chair near the table. The populace appeared to understand that the scene had overcome him, and were hushed at once into profound silence.”[15]
After a few moments Washington rose again and came forward, and stood between two of the supporting pillars of the gallery, in full view of the people. His noble and commanding form was clad in a suit of fine, dark-brown cloth, manufactured in Hartford, Connecticut. At his side was a steel-hilted dress-sword. He wore white silk stockings and plain silver shoe-buckles, and his hair was dressed in the fashion of the time and uncovered. On one side of him stood Chancellor Livingston, who had come out of the Revolution with his soul filled with intense love for his country, and who was one of the most effective orators of his day. “His acknowledged integrity and patriotism,” says Doctor Francis, “doubtless added force to all he uttered. Franklin termed him the American Cicero; and in him were united all those qualities which, according to that illustrious Roman, are necessary in the perfect orator.”[16] He was dressed in a fall suit of black cloth, and wore the robe of office. On the other side was the vice-president, in a claret-colored suit, of American manufacture. Between the president and the chancellor was Mr. Otis, the secretary of state. He was a small man, dressed with scrupulous neatness, and held in his hand an open Bible upon a rich crimson cushion. Near this most conspicuous group stood Roger Sherman, Richard Henry Lee, Alexander Hamilton, Generals Knox and St. Clair, the Baron Steuben, and other distinguished men.
Chancellor Livingston administered the oath with slow and distinct enunciation, while Washington's hand was laid upon the Bible held by Mr. Otis. When it was concluded, the president said, in a distinct voice, “I swear.” He then bowed his head, kissed the sacred volume, and as he assumed an erect posture, he with closed eyes said, with solemn supplicating tone, “So help me God!”
“It is done!” said the chancellor; and, turning to the multitude, he waved his hand, and shouted: “Long live George Washington, president of the United States!” The exclamation was echoed and re-echoed, long and loud, by the people. “The scene,” wrote an eye-witness, “was solemn and awful beyond description.... The circumstances of the president's election, the impression of his past services, the concourse of spectators, the devout fervency with which he repeated the oath, and the reverential manner in which he bowed down and kissed the sacred volume—all these conspired to render it one of the most august and interesting spectacles ever exhibited.” It seemed, from the number of witnesses, to be a solemn appeal to Heaven and earth at once.
At the close of the ceremonies, Washington bowed to the people and retired to the senate chamber, where he read his inaugural address to both houses of Congress there assembled. It was short, direct, and comprehensive. He alluded in a most touching manner to the circumstances which placed him in the position he then held. “On the one hand,” he said, “I was summoned by my country, whose voice I can never hear but with veneration and love, from a retreat which I had chosen with the fondest predilection, and, in my flattering hopes, with an immutable decision, as the asylum of my declining years.... On the other hand, the magnitude and difficulty of the trust to which the voice of my country called me, being sufficient to awaken in the wisest and most experienced of her citizens a distrustful scrutiny into his qualifications, could not but overwhelm with despondence one who, inheriting inferior endowments from nature, and unpractised in the duties of civil administration, ought to be peculiarly conscious of his own deficiencies. In this conflict of emotions, all I dare aver is, that it has been my faithful study to collect my duty from a just appreciation of every circumstance by which it might be affected.”
He expressed his devout gratitude to God for his providential watchfulness over the affairs of his country; declined the exercise of his constitutional duty of recommending measures for the consideration of Congress, not being yet acquainted with the exact state of public affairs, yet called their attention to necessary amendments of the constitution; and concluded by saying:—
“When I was first honored with a call into the service of my country, then on the eve of an arduous struggle for its liberties, the light in which I contemplated my duty required that I should renounce every pecuniary compensation. From this resolution I have in no instance departed; and being still under the impressions that produced it, I must decline, as inapplicable to myself, any share in the personal emoluments which may be indispensably included in a permanent provision for the executive department, and must accordingly pray that the pecuniary estimates for the station in which I am placed may, during my continuance in it, be limited to such actual expenditures as the public good may be thought to require.” To this expression of his disinterested patriotism he added a renewal of grateful acknowledgments to the Father of all, and supplication for further aid, protection, and guidance.