But it was about the ‘court’ on Cherry Street that the interest of society centered. It was a plain brick mansion with five windows looking out on Cherry Street and as many on Franklin Square. The furniture was plain, and Madame Washington had sent by sea from Mount Vernon numerous articles of luxury and taste—pictures, vases, ornaments presented by European admirers. Here the first President in the first days of the Republic received visitors, gave dinners and receptions, consulted with his Cabinet. The following year he moved to a more commodious house on Broadway below Trinity Church.

The great man had entered upon his physical decline when he assumed the Presidency, and many found him changed—‘pale, almost cadaverous,’ his deportment ‘invariably grave,’ his sobriety barely stopping short of sadness. Even at Mrs. Washington’s drawing-rooms, when beautiful girls swarmed about him, his face never softened to a smile.[71] It is more than probable that he was not a little bored by the artificial restraints imposed upon him by his advisers on etiquette who had aristocratic notions of the dignity of his position. Both Hamilton and Adams were responsible for planning his isolation from the people. Did citizens seek a meeting? This was a matter for the chamberlain or gentleman-in-waiting. Should he give public entertainments? Not at all—only small dinners. Could he make calls? Very guardedly, and with ‘few attendants,’ but formal visits should be reserved for the rare occasions when ‘an Emperor of Germany or some other sovereign should travel in the country.’[72] Thus it came to pass that he found himself with a ‘court chamberlain’ in the flamboyant Colonel Humphreys, who reveled in ceremony, and on one occasion moved Parson Weems’s perfect man to profanity.[73] When the erstwhile host of Fraunces Tavern was selected as the presiding deity of the kitchen, he appeared in the papers as ‘Steward of the Household.’[74] He too tried the great man’s patience and outraged his sense of economy by serving a shad early in the season that had cost two dollars, and the royal fish was devoured by the ‘Steward of the Household’ in the kitchen.[75]

But on state occasions the highfaluting notions of his advisers prevailed, and he rode forth in regal magnificence in the finest coach ever seen in America, a marvelous thing in shape and color, decorated with cupids and festooned with flowers. Thus he lumbered through the streets drawn by four horses except when driving to Federal Hall, when six were necessary.

And so they who dreamed of royal pomp were pleased with the progress made, and at the dinner tables wagging tongues dwelt ecstatically on the advantages of monarchical government, and Fenno’s ‘court journal’ began the publication of ‘The Discourses of Davila,’ by the Vice-President. Thus, when Jefferson arrived the following spring to meet society at the dinner tables, he was filled with ‘wonder and mortification’ to find that ‘politics was the chief topic, and a preference for kingly over republican government ... evidently the favorite sentiment.’[76]

But we may be sure that no such sentiments were heard at the President’s dinners, which appear to have been dull, formal, and silent enough. No fault could be found with the food, drink, or service. Even the gout-pestered Maclay found one of these dinners ‘the best of the kind I was ever at,’[77] and the more easily pleased Iredell was immensely delighted with the wine.[78] But such silence, such solemnity! ‘The most solemn dinner ever I sat at,’ wrote Maclay. ‘Not a health drank, scarce a word said until the cloth was taken away.’ Then Washington filled his glass and solemnly drank to the health of each of his guests by name. Then ‘everybody imitated him, and such a buzz of “health, sir,” and “health, madame,” and “Thank you, sir,” and “Thank you, Madame,” never had I heard before.’ Then another prolonged silence—and the ladies retired—and the dinner was over.[79] Months later, Maclay dined at the President’s again. ‘The President seemed to bear in his countenance a settled aspect of melancholy,’ he wrote. ‘No cheering ray of convivial sunshine broke through the cloudy gloom of settled seriousness.’ The great man was evidently bored—much company forced upon him that he would gladly have shunned. Cold, serious to melancholy, silent, he sat and ‘played on the table with a knife and fork like a drum stick.’ So it was at the previous dinner when, retaining his fork as the cover was removed, he ‘played with the fork, striking on the edge of the table with it.’[80]

Here we may leave him playing on the table with his fork, and turn to the proceedings at Federal Hall.

VIII

Madison soon verified his fear that few members of Congress could be relied upon for constructive work. Then, as ever after, this fell to the industrious few, of whom Madison himself was by odds the most dependable and wise. Petty ceremonies and formalities continued to disturb the serenity of some. When a member took exception to the reference in the minutes to a Presidential message as a ‘most gracious speech,’ as imitative of the parliamentary references to addresses from the throne, Adams was all but shocked to suffocation. As for himself he preferred ‘a dignified and respectable government,’ but the point was pressed and the offensive words erased.[81] Receiving a letter addressed to him as ‘His Excellency,’ Adams took the sense of the Senate on the propriety of opening it. Robert Morris dryly remarked that their Majesty, the people, could write as they wished, and that crisis passed.[82] When a Bishop was mentioned in the minutes as ‘Right Reverend,’ and Maclay snorted his disapproval, Adams, in righteous wrath, informed him that ‘the government will never be properly administered until titles are adopted in the fullest manner.’[83]

But all the while James Madison, constructive, profound, was seeking to drag his colleagues of the divine afflatus from the clouds to the working of the untilled field. Money was needed—more even than titles—and precious time was being squandered. In an earnest appeal, he begged for the postponement of the consideration of a permanent fiscal system in the hope of persuading the suppliants for tariff aid to wait awhile. But it was of no avail. Privilege entered the halls of Congress in the very beginning. When, at length, a measure was framed, the merchants of New York, Philadelphia, and Boston made common cause to hold it back. They had ordered heavily in anticipation of such a law and were determined to prevent its enactment until their goods arrived. The whole thing smacked of scandal. The merchants had already added the amount of the duties to the price of the goods on their shelves, increasing their profits while depriving the Government of the necessities of life. With the Government starving for revenue, the mercantile interest, with the aid of members, held it off until July 4th, and then it was passed with the proviso that it should be inoperative until August 1st. Many, says a noted historian, thought this ‘the first instance of a series in which the action of government turned in favor of the moneyed class.’[84]

The creation of the executive departments next called forth acrimonious discussions. Should the finances be in the hands of a man or a commission? Where could be found a single man capable of such a task? The Republic would be endangered were one man to have command of three or four millions. Then, too, the Cabinet was liable to be looked upon by the President as of more consequence than the Senate. A system of favoritism would be established, and oligarchy confirmed, the liberties of the people destroyed.[85] And the power of removal—who should possess that? Some wanted to lodge the power in the President, others in the Senate. Madison favored the former.[86] But others could not see it that way. What! exclaimed one statesman, give the power to the President? Why, ‘ministers would obtrude upon us to govern and direct the measures of the legislature and support the influence of their master.’ A new Walpole would arise.[87] ‘Good God,’ cried another, ‘authorize in a free republic ... by your first act, the exertion of a dangerous royal prerogative in your Chief Magistrate!’[88] The result was the striking out of the authorization of the President to remove on the ground that it was implied in the Constitution. Madison took this view, and it was to rise against him in his later battles with Hamilton over the implied powers.