Martha Washington (25 page)

The political task before supporters of the new Constitution was to persuade nine out of the thirteen states of the Confederation to ratify the document. Its opponents were many and fierce; they feared a new, strongly centralized government, especially the power that would be put in the hands of the president. Washington actively used his tremendous prestige in a letter-writing campaign to assist his friends James Madison and Alexander Hamilton in support of ratification.

Martha could clearly see her husband's involvement wouldn't end with ratification. As the national debate continued over the next year, the Constitution's adherents (becoming known as Federalists) defended the creation of a single executive, a president who would be elected every four years, by implying or even stating that George Washington would fill that role. His looming shadow reassured doubters because they knew he had once renounced power and could be trusted to do so again. Not that Martha lacked confidence in George's ability and integrity, but she thought it was time for someone else to do his share. Her husband had given all the time out of their mutual lives that anyone could expect.

But his supporters were adamant. He received a barrage of letters, visits, and weekly piles of newspapers that assumed he was the only man for the job. At least one member of the household was a strong advocate. David Humphreys argued that his acceptance was a duty to a nation that might fail without his presence. Martha was so exasperated that she pretended to have no more interest in the national debate, writing to Fanny, “We have not a single article of news but politicks which I do not concern myself about.”

Washington continued to resist the idea of becoming president, resolving at first to decline the honor if it was offered to him. For one thing, he was very happy tending to Mount Vernon. For another, he dreaded that he might seem to have supported the Constitution just to gain the office for himself, a form of self-interest that he despised. Little by little, though, he came to agree that he would accept election but would in no way seek the office.

As the ninth state ratified the Constitution in the summer of 1788 (eventually only North Carolina and Rhode Island held out), the states began selecting their electors for the first presidential election in November. After the turn of the year, Mount Vernon began receiving reports of the returns, overwhelmingly in Washington's favor. But there were still formalities to go through. Although the returns were in, the congressmen weren't. At last, on April 6, 1789, a quorum was reached and the returns were officially counted. George Washington had been elected the first president of the new nation; John Adams would be his vice president.

He was officially notified of his election on April 14, 1789, and set off within two days for New York City, the temporary capital of the United States. That day, he noted in his diary, “About ten o'clock I bade adieu to Mount Vernon, to private life, and to domestic felicity.” Alas for Martha, who had dreamed that they would “grow old in solitude and tranquility together.”

CHAPTER NINE

G
eorge Washington was inaugurated first president of the United States on April 30, 1789, in New York City. Knowing that every single move set a precedent made a cautious man even more careful, a man who ruled by consensus even more likely to consult others. The president also found that every detail of the day-to-day business of the new government had to be invented. The Constitution created the general framework for this unique form of government, but the rest of the edifice had to be built brick by brick, decision by decision.

The departments of the executive branch were set up in separate bills by Congress that summer and fall, and Washington appointed strong patriots, men he knew and trusted, as department heads. Henry Knox was carried over from the earlier government as secretary of war, Edmund Randolph of Virginia was named attorney general (a part-time consultative position), and Alexander Hamilton became secretary of the Treasury. John Jay refused the position of secretary of state, becoming chief justice of the Supreme Court instead. At James Madison's suggestion, Washington then offered the State Department to Madison's friend Thomas Jefferson, who was in France representing the nation.

Initially, the burden of the presidency was made much heavier by two facts of political life. The new federal government would have jobs to bestow, and a large number of Americans at every social level thought they or their relatives or their friends would be just the men for those jobs, the more lucrative the better. Second, staunch republicans believed that they had the right to speak to their president face-to-face whenever they had something to say, whether it concerned those desirable federal jobs, advice on how to run the new government, or anything else that came to mind.

Especially for the first year of the presidency, Washington was bombarded by letters and visits from job hunters as well as admirers and the merely curious. The brash American propensity for knocking on the door of the rented presidential mansion on Cherry Street and barging in made it almost impossible for Washington to do the actual work of government. In writing to David Stuart, the president explained his dilemma: “I was unable to attend to any business
whatsoever
; for Gentlemen, consulting their own convenience rather than mine, were calling from the time I rose from breakfast—often before—until I sat down to dinner.”

After consultation with Adams, Hamilton, Madison, and Jay, the president announced a formal schedule of presidential access, published in the
Gazette of the United States
. Except for those with government business, he would receive visitors only from two to three on Tuesdays and Fridays. On Tuesdays from three to four, he hosted a presidential levee, or reception, at his house. There he received callers without appointment; any respectable-looking (read: decently dressed) man would be admitted to meet the president. The hour-long levees were very formal: Washington, hair powdered properly white and confined in a queue bag, wearing a black velvet suit and dress sword, nodded to each visitor as he was announced by the aides; everyone remained standing while the rest of the guests gathered; the president then walked around the circle, chatting briefly with each man before they took their leave. These appointed hours and levees were the sum of all visits of compliment—that is, social calls without invitation, just to have a look at the new president. Such calls “on other days, and particularly on Sunday, will not be agreeable to [the president],” the
Gazette
concluded.

At least when Washington arrived in New York, he found the house clean, furnished, and comfortable, thanks to the inimitable Tobias Lear. In advance of his chief, Lear had come up on the stagecoach from Virginia about the end of March. He found everything in disarray and busied himself setting it all to rights. Lear's mission was setting up the household, hiring staff, handling the money, and keeping an itemized account of expenses. He brought Martha's list of necessary household goods, which their landlady bought, and arranged for the tuning and reconditioning of the family spinet, which had been sent up by ship.

Land rich and cash poor, Washington was forced to borrow £600 from a neighbor to cover the costs of the journey and the first weeks in New York. That £600 was expended for the household and official entertainments while Congress debated whether or not to fix a salary or to pay expenses, eventually deciding on the former. The steward hired to run the presidential house was Samuel Fraunces, “Black Sam” of Fraunces Tavern fame, and other servants were hired in the city. Fraunces's cooking was superb: “He tosses up such a number of fine dishes that we are distracted in our choice. . . . Oysters & Lobsters make a very conspicuous figure upon the table.”

But George missed Martha, even with Tobias Lear and David Humphreys for company: a bachelors' hall was not his idea of home. He hated for her to be angry with him, and there was no secret about her annoyance at having to leave Mount Vernon again. She had refused to accompany him to Philadelphia for the convention that produced the Constitution. When he left for New York, she tarried at home, volubly regretting his decision to reenter public life. No doubt he wrote asking her to speed up her departure, but none of those letters survive.

Tobias wrote to George Augustine Washington ten days after the president arrived in the city. He asked his friend to pass along the information about the delicious seafood to “Madam Washington . . . (as she is remarkably fond of these fish) [to] hasten her advancing toward New York.” He ended on a more serious note: “We are extremely desirous of seeing her here.”

Even when joking, Tobias's loving affection for Martha shone through. In the same letter to George Augustine, he asked for a report about local opinion of the arrangements made so far and of the government in general, suggesting that discreet inquiries might be made. Lapsing into whimsy, he wrote, “The Ladies are very expert at this business—suppose Mrs Washington should do it? I know of no person better qualified—her very serious & benevolent countenance would not suffer a person to hide a thing from her. . . . Now I would give a great deal to be present when you inform Mrs Washington of this—or read it to her. If she ever put on a frown it would be on this occasion. . . . What does he mean! she will exclaim! Does he wish to make a spy of me?”

Martha, Nelly and Wash Custis, Bob Lewis, and six slaves, including her maids, Oney Judge and Molly, arrived in New York City on May 27. Billy Lee (now usually called Will), the personal servant and slave who had been with Washington throughout the Revolution, arrived a month later. Will was considerably crippled in both legs; he had been left in Philadelphia for medical treatment before coming on to New York in mid-June. Although he wasn't able to do much in a house with steep stairs, he wanted to come to the city. As Tobias noted, Washington wished “to gratify him in every reasonable wish.” Among the four other slaves brought to New York—Giles, Austin, Paris, and Christopher Sheels—young Christopher assisted Will, learning the job and taking over when Will retired. There were already fourteen hired white servants at work.

Martha found the house quite acceptable, thanking God that George and the rest of the household were well: “The House he is in is a very good one and is handsomely furnished all new for the General.” On the corner of Cherry and Dover, the three-story brick house faced St. George's Square. It had most of the modern conveniences—seven fireplaces and a pump and cistern in the yard. Several alterations had been made: enlarging the drawing room for presidential entertaining and providing a larger stable and a wash house. With the size of their household, they probably also bought water from the water men, who daily delivered huge hogsheads in their carts to customers.

Only three blocks from the East River, Cherry Street was a noisy main thoroughfare serving the bustling wharves along the river. The sounds and smells of the neighborhood came through the open windows—ships' bells, rumbling ironclad wheels of wagons on the way to nearby Peck's market, stray dogs, horses, carriages, street vendors, hogs grunting and rooting in the open gutters, stevedores unloading ships on the riverfront. In the country, noises and voices were familiar, and the arrival of a carriage represented the height of excitement; in New York, everything was new, and strangers thronged the streets. The children were entranced, especially Nelly. Martha wrote home that she “spends her time at the window looking at carriages &c passing by which is new to her and very common for children to do.”

From the moment Martha arrived, callers swept into the presidential mansion with the force of a spring flood. The ladies and gentlemen of the city were delighted to have the president's consort as a focal point for the city's elite social life. She complained to Fanny after two weeks in New York, “I have been so much engaged since I came here . . . but shall soon have time as most of the visits are at an end. I have not had one half hour to myself since the day of my arrival.”

Martha had discovered the tedium of constant public attention. Contrary to her usual habit at home, her hair had to be set and dressed every day by a visiting hairdresser, and she attended much more to her clothes, putting on white muslin for the summer. As she reported to her niece: “You would I fear think me a good deal in the fashion if you could but see me,” clearly not implying enjoyment.

The boundaries set for the president's lady by her husband and his male advisers were not at all to her liking. Being the nation's hostess has been an onerous task for many First Ladies. As the first president's wife, however, Martha had no way of knowing how radically her life would be curtailed. President Washington had already announced in the newspapers that he and his wife would not attend or host private gatherings, to avoid any appearance of favoritism. How different from the Revolution, where the informal gatherings of officers and their wives at headquarters had been such a delight. Martha was considerably disgruntled to find herself fettered by political considerations.