"On the day before President Washington retired from office a large company dined with him. Among them were the foreign ministers and their ladies, Mr. and Mrs. Adams, Mr. Jefferson, and other conspicuous persons of both sexes. During the dinner much hilarity prevailed, but on the removal of the cloth it was put an end to by the President, certainly without design. Having filled his glass, he addressed the company, with a smile, as nearly as can be recollected, in the following words: 'Ladies and gentlemen, this is the last time I shall drink your health as a public man. I do it with sincerity, wishing you all possible happiness.' There was an end of all pleasantry. He who gives this relation accidentally directed his eye to the lady of the British minister, Mrs. Liston, and tears were running down her cheeks."
Mr. Gibbs, in his "Administrations of Washington and Adams," refers to the parting levee in the following terms:
"Just before his final retirement, Washington held his last formal levee. An occasion more respectable in simplicity, more imposing in dignity, more affecting in the sensations which it awakened, the ceremonials of rulers never exhibited. There were the great chiefs of the republic of all parties and opinions; veterans of the War of Independence, weather-stained and scarred; white-haired statesmen, who, in retirement, were enjoying the fruits of former toil; there were his executive counselors and private friends; ministers of foreign governments, whose veneration approached that of his countrymen; citizens who came to offer the tribute of a respect, sincere and disinterested. Little was there of the pageantry of courts, little of the glitter which attends the receptions of royalty, yet in the grave assemblage that stood in that unadorned chamber there was a majesty which these knew not. The dignitaries of a nation had come together to bid farewell to one who, at their own free call, by their own willing trust—not as an honor to be coveted, but as a duty to be discharged—had, in turn, led their armies and executed their laws; one who now, his last task worthily fulfilled, was to take his place again among them, readier to relinquish than he had been to undertake power; a soldier without stain upon his arms; a ruler without personal ambition; a wise and upright statesman; a citizen of self-sacrificing patriotism; a man pure, unblemished, and true in every relation he had filled; one to whom all ages should point as the testimony that virtue and greatness had been and could be united.
"And he who was the object of this gathering—what thoughts crowded upon his mind; what recollections filled the vista of the sixty odd years which had passed over him; what changes of men, opinions, society, had he seen! Great changes, indeed, in the world and its old notions; the growing dissatisfaction of certain English emigrants at customary tyrannies and new intended ones had taken form and shape, embodied itself into principles, and vindicated them; blazed up an alarming beacon in the world's eyes as the Sacred Right of Rebellion; fought battles; asserted independence and maintained it at much cost of bloodshed; made governments after its own new-fangled fashion; impressed a most unwilling idea on history—the doctrine of popular sovereignty—one which had proved contagious and had been adopted elsewhere, running riot indeed in its novelty. And out of all this confusion there had arisen the nation which he had presided over, already become great, and factious in its greatness, with a noble birthright, noble virtues, energies, and intellect; with great faults and passions that, unchecked, would, as in lusty individual manhood, lead to its ruin.
"What was to be the future of that nation? Dark clouds hung over it, dangers threatened it, enemies frowned upon it—the worst enemy was within. License might blast, in a few hours, the growth of years; faction destroy the careful work of the founders. On this he had left his great solemn charge, like the last warning of a father to his children."
The relation in which the secretaries had stood with the President had been one of respectful but affectionate intimacy. The most cordial and unreserved friendship was extended to all whom he trusted and esteemed. The Secretaries of State and War (Pickering and McHenry) had been his fellow-soldiers; the Secretary of the Treasury (Wolcott) had, as it were, grown up under his eye. The simplicity and military frankness of Pickering, the kindly nature and refinement of McHenry, the warm-heartedness and bonhommie of Wolcott, all won upon his regard. On their part there was a no less sincere love for their chief. There are those devotion to whom is no degradation. Washington was such a one, and to him it was rendered in the spirit of men who respected themselves. Among all connected with him, either in military or civil life, this sentiment was retained. His death hallowed his memory in their hearts to a degree and with a sanctity which none can know who have not heard from their own lips—none can feel Who were not of them. And in likewise the wife and family of Washington were cherished. They had been universally beloved on their own account, and the hand of fate, in depriving them of a husband and father, as it were, bequeathed them to the tender care of a nation. There was something beautiful in these sentiments, in a land where the ties that bind men depend so little upon association.
Wolcott, among others, had enjoyed much of the domestic society of the President's house. His gentle and graceful wife had been regarded with maternal tenderness by Mrs. Washington and was the friend and correspondent of her eldest daughter. His child had been used to climb, confident of welcome, the knees of the chief, and though so many years his junior, while Wolcott's character and judgment had been held in respect by the President, his personal and social qualities had drawn toward him a warm degree of interest.
On leaving the seat of government, Washington presented, it is believed, to all his chief officers some token of regard. To Wolcott he gave a piece of plate. Mrs. Washington gave to his wife, when visiting her for the last time, a relic still more interesting. Asking her if she did not wish for a memorial of the general, Mrs. Wolcott replied, "Yes," she "should like a lock of his hair." Mrs. Washington, smiling, took Her scissors and cut off for her a lock of her husband's and one of her own. These, with the originals of Washington's letters, Wolcott preserved with careful veneration and divided between his surviving children.
"On the retirement of General Washington," says Wolcott, "being desirous that my personal interests should not embarrass his successor, and supposing that some other person might be preferred to myself, I tendered my resignation to Mr. Adams before his inauguration. The tender was declined and I retained office under my former commission."
On the 1st of March (1797) Washington had addressed a note to the Senate, desiring them to attend in their chamber on Saturday, the 4th, at 10 o'clock, "to receive any communication which the President of the United States might lay before them touching their interests." In conformity with this summons the Senate assembled on that day and commenced their thirteenth session. The oath of office was administered by Mr. Bingham to Mr. Jefferson, who thereupon took the chair. The new Senators were then sworn and the Vice-President delivered a brief address. The Senate then repaired to the chamber of the House of Representatives to attend the administration of the oath of office to the new President. Mr. Adams entered, accompanied by the heads of departments, {1} the marshal of the district and his officers, and took his seat in the speaker's chair. The Vice-President and secretary of the Senate were seated in advance on his right, and the late speaker and clerk on the left; the justices of the Supreme Court sat before the President, the foreign ministers and members of the House in their usual seats. Washington, once more a private citizen, sat in front of the judges. Mr. Adams then rose and delivered his inaugural speech. This address was brief and well suited to the occasion. After adverting to the circumstances which led to the formation of the new constitution, he expressed the unqualified approbation with which, in a foreign land and apart from the scene of controversy, he had first perused it, and the undiminished confidence which, after eight years of experience, he entertained of its fitness. He remarked briefly on the abuses to which it was subject, and against which it became the duty of the people to guard, and having disclosed his opinions of general policy, pledged himself anew to the support of the government. The oath of office was then administered by Chief Justice Ellsworth, the other justices attending, after which he retired. {2}