Tempest at Dawn (70 page)

Washington then grasped Sherman in the same
fraternal manner. “Mr. Sherman, to an extent the nation may never
know, we owe this day to you.”

“
I only did my part.”

“
A vital part.” And he was off
greeting the rest of the entourage.

After they had all boarded the barge,
Washington began to rotate among the dignitaries with the aplomb of
a seasoned politician, and Sherman and Madison retook their
position along the rail.

“
Look at all these boats,” Madison
said. It seemed that the entire Hudson was filled with vessels
elaborately decorated with patriotic bunting and flags.

“
This is historic,” Sherman
said.

“
Not since Greece.”

“‘
If we can keep it,’ in the words of
Franklin.”

As they neared Bedloe’s Island, a sloop
appeared and drew to within ten feet of the barge. About twenty men
and women, in neat columns and matching dress, began to sing an
honorific ode set to the tune of “God Save the King.”

“
We really must cultivate our own composers,”
Madison said.

“
I shall speak to John Dickinson,” Sherman
quipped. Dickinson had written “Liberty Song,” the most popular
Revolutionary tune. “He told me that on occasion indifferent songs
are powerful.”

“
This would be one of those occasions,”
Madison said. “It would be especially powerful if the melody didn’t
evoke British royalty.”

“
People feel they can treat Washington like
royalty because he has no kingly ambitions.”

“
The Anti-Federalists still look for anything
that hints of monarchy.”

“
The general’s demeanor will keep them at
bay.”

“
You’re wrong, Roger. In the months ahead,
nothing will restrain a fervent opposition from
surfacing.”

Sherman looked to the sea because of shouts to his
left and right. “It seems something else has surfaced at the
moment.”

Immediately alongside the barge, a school of
porpoises suddenly bobbed up and down as though they were part of
the official welcoming celebration. “The man has an uncanny knack
for theatrics,” Madison said in awe.

The porpoises disappeared for the moment and then
resurfaced in front of the barge, as if leading the flotilla to
port. As they drew parallel to the tip of Manhattan, the Battery
let loose thirteen cannons that rocked the barge and deafened the
passengers.

At the wharf, another thirteen-gun salute welcomed
the future president. More dignitaries stood in stiff lines along
Murray’s Wharf at the foot of Wall Street, and an even larger crowd
extended up the street. When Washington stepped from the barge, the
citizenry clapped, whistled, yelled, and frantically waved flags
and banners. Washington stopped and, before shaking hands with the
officials, bowed deferentially toward the cheering throng. After
the formal greetings, the general pulled himself ramrod straight
and followed the young maidens scattering flowers along the
crimson-carpeted steps that led to the street.

When Madison and Sherman reached the top of the
steps, they saw Gen. Washington returning the salute of an army
officer.

“
General, your orders, sir.”

“
I shall proceed as I am directed.” Washington
almost made a complete turn to view the crushing crowd of
well-wishers. “But, sir, after this reception, don’t bother
yourself further. The affection of my fellow citizens is all the
guard I need.”

With that polite dismissal, Washington climbed into
the carriage that would take him to Franklin House on Cherry
Street, which served as the temporary executive mansion.

“
Where are you headed?” Madison
asked.

“
For a nap,” Sherman said.

“
Walk with me down Wall Street; I want to buy
some souvenirs.”

“
James, those are for spectators; you’re a
participant.”

“
One with many friends in Virginia. I
recommend that you don’t return to New Haven
empty-handed.”

“
How simple can I be? My children and
grandchildren would disown me.”

“
Not likely,” Madison chuckled. “I’m sure
they’re conditioned to your forgetfulness.”

“
Your foil has pierced a vital
organ.”

“
Difficult, considering the size of your
heart.”

“
Ouch.”

“
Help me dicker. I’m terrible.”

“
Very well.” Sherman extended his hand. “Lead
on.”

They sauntered up Wall Street and soon encountered
vendors sandwiched into every cranny of the narrow thoroughfare.
They stopped midblock, where three vendors tried to bark sales
spiels louder than their elbow-rubbing competitors. Madison picked
up a souvenir tankard and turned it so Sherman could read the
inscription—March 4, 1789.

Showing it to the vendor, Madison said, “Wrong
date.”

“
Not my fault, gov. Blame that muddleheaded
Congress. They can’t get the first thing right.”

“
Bunch of parasites, I suspect,” Sherman
said.

“
Got that right, gov, but don’t you worry, the
general’ll get ’em lined up. Read the back of the
tankard.”

Madison turned it and read out loud. “President
George Washington, The Greatest Man on Earth.”

“
Now or for all time?” Sherman asked,
straightfaced.

The vendor cocked an eye at Sherman, “You a damned
Anti-Federalist?”

“
No, sir,” Sherman responded. “I support the
Constitution.”

“
Damn the Constitution. These souvenirs honor
the inauguration. Humph. Should’ve been a coronation.”

Madison held the tankard aloft. “How much?”

“
Priceless,” the vendor snipped.

“
Outside our range. Good day, sir,” Sherman
said.

“
Just a minute, gov. Two dollars.”

“
Still outside our range,” Sherman
said.

“
A dollar and a half.” This came from the
vendor at the next table.

“
Ignore that knave, his brother’s a
Tory.”

“
I’m not interested in a tankard,” Madison
said.

“
Then I can make you a good deal on these
buttons, medals, or brooches. How about a watch fob or a
commemorative plate?”

Madison picked up the watch fob. “How much?”

“
One dollar. Quality silver.”

“
How much for ten?”

“
Ten?” The vendor scratched his head. “I don’t
know if I want to sell my whole stock.”

“
Someone else can handle the order,” Sherman
said.

“
Eight dollars.”

“
New York money?” Madison asked.

“
Do I look like a bank?”

“
James, you’ll need to wait for the greatest
man on earth to fix the money issue.”

This remark earned Sherman a nasty glare from the
vendor. After they had finished bartering, Madison had bought ten
watch fobs, four plates, and dozens of buttons. Sherman had bought
one plate for Rebecca’s sideboard and a few other items to spread
around the household.

“
What are you going to do with all those
souvenirs?” Sherman asked.

“
Friends in Virginia. I’ll use the buttons for
gratuities: they’ll be more valuable than money.”

“
Good idea.”

Madison hefted his load. “These trinkets increase in
value the further they get from New York.”

“
And further in time,” Sherman mused. “Perhaps
I should reconsider.”

“
Madison gets Sherman to reconsider.” Madison
smiled. “This is indeed a memorable day.”

On April 30, Madison and Sherman went to Franklin
House with other congressional delegates to accompany Washington to
the inauguration. They had been wakened at dawn by cannon salutes,
followed by church bells that rang incessantly.

Dark clouds had hovered over the city in the
morning, but by noon, as Washington’s luck would have it, the skies
had cleared to a radiant blue. When the escort delegation arrived
at the residence, an orderly crowd had already gathered in the
street. Washington greeted them dressed in a dark brown coat with
brass buttons decorated with spread eagles, brown waistcoat and
breeches, white silk stockings, and shoes with simple silver
buckles. Freshly powdered hair and his dress sword set off his
otherwise modest attire.

The entourage included three carriages. Sherman and
Madison had been assigned to the last coach in the matched set. As
they crowded into their seats, Sherman said, “The general chose
plain civilian dress.”

“
A sharp contrast to his normal hint of a
military uniform. I understand he insisted that every article be
made from American cloth.”

“
Good for the New England vote.”

“
He spent last week visiting every member of
Congress and others with influence. You’d never know he was elected
unanimously.”

“
Four years can be short,” Sherman
said.

“
He doesn’t want a second term.”

“
He said he didn’t want a first.”

“
Who’d follow?” Madison asked.

“
Adams?”

“
God, I hope not.”

A line of militiamen extended through Federal Hall
to the Senate Chamber. As he strode past the men he had once
commanded, Washington looked as if he were marching to his doom.
When he entered the chamber, John Adams formally greeted him. After
a series of introductions, Washington said, “I’m ready to
proceed.”

Adams bowed and led Washington to a half-enclosed
balcony overlooking Wall and Broad streets. Sherman, Madison,
Gerry, Baldwin, King, Ellsworth, Paterson, Read, Butler, Robert
Morris, and others squeezed onto the balcony. It was a tight
fit.

The streets were even more crowded. When Washington
appeared, a great shout went up from the spectators. Every window,
balcony, and rooftop was packed with spectators. Someone close by
mumbled, “One could traverse the block by walking on the heads of
people.”

Washington gallantly put a hand over his heart and
bowed several times. When people refused to stop cheering, he took
a seat in an armchair and waited. Eventually, the audience hushed,
and Washington rose and went to the railing.

On a small red-draped table, a Bible rested on a
crimson velvet cushion. Robert R. Livingston, the presiding judge
of New York’s highest court, had been designated to administer the
oath. Livingston came forward, and Washington reverently placed his
hand on the Bible and looked Livingston directly in the eye.

Repeating after Livingston, Washington took the
thirty-five-word oath prescribed by the Constitution: “I do
solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office of
President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability,
preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United
States.” Washington then added four more words, “so help me God,”
and leaned over to kiss the Bible.

“
It’s done,” Livingston said. He turned to the
spectators and shouted, “Long live George Washington, president of
the United States.”

The crowd immediately took up the cry and then
shifted to wild cheers and huzzahs. A flag was raised on the
cupola, and thirteen cannons went off at the Battery. Church bells
tolled in every steeple in the city. The United States had just
peacefully transitioned to an entirely new government and
inaugurated its first duly elected chief executive. No one in this
crowd, including those on the balcony, could remain silent or
reserved.

President George Washington bowed several times, and
then, before the audience calmed, he retreated into the Senate
Chamber. When Madison and Sherman made their own way into the
chamber, Washington had already taken his seat on the dais to wait
for people to take their places. Ignoring protocol, members of both
houses scrambled for the few seats in an atmosphere of confusion
and happy chatter.

When Washington finally rose to give his inaugural
address, the sound of scraping chairs filled the chamber as
everyone stood.

Washington spoke in a shaky voice that conveyed both
modesty and embarrassment. He reminded Congress about his lack of
experience but promised to execute his duties to the best of his
abilities. He then expressed anxiety over the weight of
responsibility, saying that he would have preferred to remain at
his beloved Mount Vernon.

“
I was summoned by my country, whose voice I
can never hear but with veneration and love.”

He then moved to a highly religious tone and said
that he saw divine guidance in America. Throughout the address,
Washington constantly shifted the manuscript of his speech from
hand to hand and never overcame his tremulous delivery. A weak
finish didn’t dampen the rousing applause or the exuberant
congratulations that took most of an hour.

Special services were scheduled at St. Paul’s
Church. The entire Congress intended to accompany the president,
but the crowd outside prohibited bringing up carriages and even
blocked the senators and representatives from leaving the building.
When Madison and Sherman finally made it to the street, they asked
the whereabouts of the president.

“
He walked.”

“
Seven blocks?”

“
He insisted.”