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While President, a more elaborate hospitality was maintained. Both in New
York and Philadelphia the best houses procurable were rented as the
Presidential home,—for Washington "wholly declined living in any public
building,"—and a steward and fourteen lower servants attended to all
details, though a watchful supervision was kept by the President over
them, and in the midst of his public duties he found time to keep a minute
account of the daily use of all supplies, with their cost. His payments to
his stewards for mere servants' wages and food (exclusive of wine) were
over six hundred dollars a month, and there can be little doubt that
Washington, who had no expense paid by the public, more than spent his
salary during his term of office. It was the President's custom to give a public dinner once a week "to as
many as my table will hold," and there was also a bi-weekly levee,
to which any one might come, as well as evening receptions by Mrs.
Washington, which were more distinctly social and far more exclusive.
Ashbel Green states that "Washington's dining parties were entertained in
a very handsome style. His weekly dining day for company was Thursday, and
his dining hour was always four o'clock in the afternoon. His rule was to
allow five minutes for the variations of clocks and watches, and then go
to the table, be present or absent, whoever might. He kept his own clock
in the hall, just within the outward door, and always exactly regulated.
When lagging members of Congress came in, as they often did, after
the guests had sat down to dinner, the president's only apology was,
'Gentlemen (or sir) we are too punctual for you. I have a cook who never
asks whether the company has come, but whether the hour has come.' The
company usually assembled in the drawing-room, about fifteen or twenty
minutes before dinner, and the president spoke to every guest personally
on entering the room." Maclay attended several of the dinners, and has left descriptions of them.
"Dined this day with the President," he writes. "It was a great dinner—
all in the tastes of high life. I considered it as a part of my duty as a
Senator to submit to it, and am glad it is over. The President is a cold,
formal man; but I must declare that he treated me with great attention. I
was the first person with whom he drank a glass of wine. I was often
spoken to by him." Again he says,— "At dinner, after my second plate had been taken away, the President
offered to help me to part of a dish which stood before him. Was ever
anything so unlucky? I had just before declined being helped to anything
more, with some expression that denoted my having made up my dinner. Had,
of course, for the sake of consistency, to thank him negatively, but when
the dessert came, and he was distributing a pudding, he gave me a look of
interrogation, and I returned the thanks positive. He soon after asked me
to drink a glass of wine with him." On another occasion he "went to the
President's to dinner.... The President and Mrs. Washington sat opposite
each other in the middle of the table; the two secretaries, one at
each end. It was a great dinner, and the best of the kind I ever
was at. The room, however, was disagreeably warm. First the soup; fish
roasted and boiled; meats, sammon, fowls, etc.... The middle of the table
was garnished in the usual tasty way, with small images, flowers,
(artificial), etc. The dessert was, apple pies, pudding, etc.; then iced
creams, jellies, etc.; then water-melons, musk-melons, apples, peaches,
nuts. It was the most solemn dinner I ever was at. Not a health drank;
scarce a word was said until the cloth was taken away. Then the President
filling a glass of wine, with great formality drank to the health of every
individual by name round the table. Everybody imitated him, charged
glasses, and such a buzz of 'health, sir,' and 'health, madam,' and 'thank
you, sir,' and 'thank you, madam,' never had I heard before.... The ladies
sat a good while, and the bottles passed about; but there was a dead
silence almost. Mrs. Washington at last withdrew with the ladies. I
expected the men would now begin, but the same stillness remained. The
President told of a New England clergyman who had lost a hat and wig in
passing a river called the Brunks. He smiled, and everybody else laughed.
He now and then said a sentence or two on some common subject, and what he
said was not amiss.... The President ... played with the fork, striking on
the edge of the table with it. We did not sit long after the ladies
retired. The President rose, went up-stairs to drink coffee; the company
followed."
Bradbury gives the menu of a dinner at which he was, where "there was an
elegant variety of roast beef, veal, turkey, ducks, fowls, hams, &c.;
puddings, jellies, oranges, apples, nuts, almonds, figs, raisins, and a
variety of wines and punch. We took our leave at six, more than an hour
after the candles were introduced. No lady but Mrs. Washington dined with
us. We were waited on by four or five men servants dressed in livery." At
the last official dinner the President gave, Bishop White was present, and
relates that "to this dinner as many were invited as could be accommodated
at the President's table.... 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 on
his countenance, saying: 'Ladies and gentlemen, this is the last time I
shall drink your health, as a public man. I do it with sincerity, and
wishing you all possible happiness.' There was an end of all pleasantry." A glance at Mrs. Washington's receptions has been given, but the levees of
the President remain to be described. William Sullivan, who attended many,
wrote,— "At three o'clock or at any time within a quarter of an hour afterward,
the visitor was conducted to this dining room, from which all seats had
been removed for the time. On entering, he saw" Washington, who "stood
always in front of the fire-place, with his face towards the door of
entrance. The visitor was conducted to him, and he required to have the
name so distinctly pronounced that he could hear it. He had the very
uncommon faculty of associating a man's name, and personal appearance, so
durably in his memory, as to be able to call one by name, who made him a
second visit. He received his visitor with a dignified bow, while his
hands were so disposed of as to indicate, that the salutation was not to
be accompanied with shaking hands. This ceremony never occurred in these
visits, even with his most near friends, that no distinction might be
made. As visitors came in, they formed a circle round the room. At a
quarter past three, the door was closed, and the circle was formed for
that day. He then began on the right, and spoke to each visitor, calling
him by name, and exchanging a few words with him. When he had completed
his circuit, he resumed his first position, and the visitors approached
him in succession, bowed and retired. By four o'clock the ceremony was
over."
The ceremony of the dinners and levees and the liveried servants were
favorite impeachments of the President among the early Democrats before
they had better material, and Washington was charged with trying to
constitute a court, and with conducting himself like a king. Even his bow
was a source of criticism, and Washington wrote in no little irritation in
regard to this, "that I have not been able to make bows to the taste of
poor Colonel Bland, (who, by the by, I believe, never saw one of them), is
to be regretted, especially too, as (upon those occasions), they were
indiscriminately bestowed, and the best I was master of, would it not have
been better to throw the veil of charity over them, ascribing their
stiffness to the effects of age, or to the unskillfulness of my teacher,
than to pride and dignity of office, which God knows has no charms for me?
For I can truly say, I had rather be at Mount Vernon with a friend or two
about me, than to be attended at the seat of government by the officers of
state, and the representatives of every power in Europe." There can be no doubt that Washington hated ceremony as much as the
Democrats, and yielded to it only from his sense of fitness and the
opinions of those about him. Jefferson and Madison both relate how such
unnecessary form was used at the first levee by the master of ceremonies
as to make it ridiculous, and Washington, appreciating this, is quoted as
saying to the amateur chamberlain, "Well, you have taken me in once, but,
by God, you shall never take me in a second time." His secretary, in
writing to secure lodgings in Philadelphia, when the President and family
were on their way to Mount Vernon, said, "I must repeat, what I observed
in a former letter, that as little ceremony & parade may be made as
possible, for the President wishes to command his own time, which these
things always forbid in a greater or less degree, and they are to him
fatiguing and oftentimes painful. He wishes not to exclude himself from
the sight or conversation of his fellow citizens, but their eagerness to
show their affection frequently imposes a heavy tax on him." This was still further shown in his diary of his tours through New England
and the Southern States. Nothing would do but for Boston to receive him
with troops, etc., and Washington noted, "finding this ceremony not to be
avoided, though I had made every effort to do it, I named the hour." In
leaving Portsmouth he went "quietly, and without any attendance, having
earnestly entreated that all parade and ceremony might be avoided on my
return." When travelling through North Carolina, "a small party of horse
under one Simpson met us at Greenville, and in spite of every endeavor
which could comport with decent civility, to excuse myself from it, they
would attend me to Newburn."
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