My station is new. I walk on untrodden ground. With God’s help, I readily engage with you in the task of making a nation happy.
The People
God save our Washington! Long live our beloved President!
[The celebration of Washington’s inauguration is then enacted with a torchlight procession, lanterns and transparencies and the frantic joy of the crowd and much singing of “Yankee Doodle.”
The scene darkens with the dying of the jubilation.
The Chronicler rises.]
The Chronicler
The eight years of administration pass. The faith of the people again grows cold. New voices speak flattery and falsehood and sow the seed of disaster to come. But the leaders are steadfast, always, and, even in farewell, the end of their leadership is wisdom.
[The only light, now, shines upon the group of Freedom, Washington and Hamilton. The people stand, in the shadow, absolutely still and unresponsive.]
Washington