CHAPTER XIV.
adjournment of congress—washington's opinion of their conduct—his public labors—tour on long island—severe illness of the president—voyage to rhode island—in retirement at mount vernon—lafayette's position—key of the bastile presented to washington—washington's hopes for the future of the united states—his neutral policy foreshadowed—indian war in the west.
Congress adjourned on the twelfth of August, after a session of about seven months, during which time questions of great importance had been met, discussed, and settled; not always, it must be confessed, in a conciliatory spirit. In a partial defense of the national legislature, in a letter to Doctor Stuart, Washington remarked: “I do not mean, however, from what I have here said, to justify the conduct of Congress in all these movements; for some of their movements, in my opinion, have been injudicious, and others unseasonable; whilst the questions of assumption, residence, and other matters, have been agitated with a warmth and intemperance, with prolixity and threats, which, it is to be feared, have lessened the dignity of that body, and decreased that respect which was once entertained for it. And this misfortune is increased by many members, even among those who wish well to the government, ascribing in letters to their respective states, when they are defeated in a favorite measure, the worst motives for the conduct of their opponents, who, viewing matters through another medium, may and do retort in their turn; by which means jealousies and distrusts are spread most impolitically far and wide, and will, it is to be feared, have a most unhappy tendency to injure our public affairs, which, if wisely managed, might make us, as we are now by Europeans thought to be, the happiest people upon earth.”
The session just closed had been a season of great labor for the president. The cares of state had been many and important, and the affairs of France had occupied much of his attention. Some days his application to public business was so continuous, from early morning until evening, that he omitted his usual exercise in the open air. He managed, however, to make a tour of four days, in his carriage, upon Long Island. He travelled eastward as far as Huntington, making (as appears by his diary) careful observations of the country and its resources. He proceeded from Brooklyn, through Flatbush and New Utrecht, to Gravesend, on the extreme western point of the island, and then eastward to Jamaica by the middle road. From Jamaica he journeyed to South Hempstead, and then to Hart's tavern in Brookhaven, from which place he struck across toward the north shore of the island by Coram to Setauket. On the third day of his journey (April the twenty-third) he went through Smithstown to Huntington, where he dined; and then turning westward, he drove to Oyster bay and lodged. Early the following morning he passed through Mosquito cove, and breakfasted at Hendrick Onderdonk's, at the head of a bay, the site of the present village of Roslyn, or Hempstead harbor. He dined at Flushing, reached Brooklyn ferry before sunset, and home at twilight.
Incessant application to business made severe inroads upon the health of the president, and on the tenth of May he was seized with a severe illness, which reduced him to the verge of dissolution. He was confined to his chamber for several weeks, and it was not until the twenty-fourth of June that he was able to resume his diary. His chief difficulty was inflammation of the lungs, and he suffered from general debility until the close of the session of Congress in August. Then, accompanied by Jefferson, he made a voyage to Newport, Rhode Island, especially for the benefit of his health, and incidentally to have personal intercourse with the leading inhabitants there, he having, as we have observed, avoided the soil of Rhode Island when on his eastern tour, that state not then being a member of the Union. It had recently entered by adopting the federal constitution.
The sea-voyage was beneficial to the health of the president; and soon after his return, at the close of August, he set out with his family for Mount Vernon, there to seek repose from the turmoil of public life, and the sweet recreation which he always experienced in the midst of agricultural employments in that happy retreat. He carried with him to Mount Vernon a curious present which he received from his friend Lafayette, just before the adjournment of Congress. It was the ponderous iron key of the Bastile—that old fortress of despotism in Paris which the populace of that city captured the year before, and which had been levelled to the ground by order of the marquis, who was still at the head of the revolution in France.
Washington had watched the course of his friend with great anxiety; for he loved the marquis as a brother. The career upon which he had entered was a most difficult and perilous one. “Never has any man been placed in a more critical situation,” the Marquis de Luzerne wrote to Washington. “A good citizen, a faithful subject, he is embarrassed by a thousand difficulties in making many people sensible of what is proper, who very often feel it not, and who sometimes do not understand what it is.”