Some such change we realize at the point at which we have arrived, in following down the great events of American history. Casting an eye upon the scenes of the past, little besides toil, agitation, and conflict, are to be seen.
The Pilgrim Fathers land on these western shores. Immediately, a wide-spread wilderness is before them, and the task of clearing it is begun; savage foes—subtle, secret, and sanguinary—prowl about their habitations, and for years agitate and distress them. The mother-country becomes involved in continental wars—America is the theatre of the contest, and American soldiers must fight her battles. But, like the palm-tree, the colonists rise under the burdens imposed on them. As they prosper and expand, England becomes jealous, and bears herself lordly towards them, in measures of oppression—in prohibitions and exactions. War ensues—a long and exhausting war; their fields lie neglected; their cities are captured; their families are impoverished, and their sons are slain; but they conquer, and are free. But, as a nation, they have no sufficient bond of union—no efficient government to guide their future destiny in safety. National and state debts rest as an incubus upon their efforts, and no adequate power exists by which to provide for their liquidation. A convention meets: different plans are proposed—different constitutions are discussed. Obstacles to the adoption of any arise, which appear insurmountable, and the convention is on the eve of dissolving—leaving the problem still unsolved, whether human wisdom is adequate to devise a constitution which shall harmonize the conflicting interests of thirteen free and independent states.
Once more Providence rallies to our aid—moving upon untractable spirits, as in days of yore the spirit had moved upon the troubled waters, and now, as then, there "is a calm." Deliberations are resumed—asperities wear away—harmony succeeds—the final vote is taken—a constitution is adopted, and sent abroad among the people of the states.
But again the waters become tumultuous—angry conflict is waged in almost every state-house in the land—hundreds and thousands lift up their voices against this constitution, and refuse to sanction it—ill-boding doubts swell up like clouds gathering from the sea, and for a time exclude all hope of a constitutional ratification.
But another becalming influence from on high moves upon the mental mass; jarring strifes are suspended—angry discord ceases—harmonious action succeeds—the constitution is ratified, and George Washington is elected president of the United States!
On the ratification of the constitution, the attention of the people was at once directed to General Washington, as the first president of the United States. Communications, expressive of this general desire, were made to him. "We cannot," said Mr. Johnson, of Maryland, "do without you, and I and thousands more can explain to any body but yourself, why we cannot do without you." "I have ever thought," said Governeur Morris, "and have said, that you must be president; no other man can fill that office." In a letter on the subject, addressed to Washington by Colonel Hamilton, the latter said, "You will permit me to say, that it is indispensable you should lend yourself to its [the government's] first operations."
Washington had serious objections to becoming a candidate. He sincerely wished for retirement. "It is my great and sole desire"—so he expressed himself to a friend, who had written him—"to live and die in peace and retirement on my own farm."
But the voice of the nation demanded a further sacrifice from the noble and disinterested patriot. He alone was believed to fill so prëeminent a station in public opinion, that he might be placed at the head of the nation without exciting envy. He alone possessed the requisite confidence of the nation.
By the constitution, the new government was to commence its operations on the 4th of March, 1789; but a quorum of representatives did not appear till the 1st, nor of senators till Monday, the 6th day of April.