CHAPTER IV.
A NEW PRESIDENT

The inaugurations at New York and Philadelphia had been marked with a certain degree of pomp and stateliness. The first one in Washington had been simple almost to indifference. There had preceded it a bitter campaign, and the Federalists kept the peace with a silent dignity that was chilling in the extreme. Mr. Adams left Washington at once. And the city then was in a dismal stage, with few improvements perfected. There was really no accommodation for visitors, and many still believed the Capital would be removed. They delighted to call it "The Wilderness City," "Capital of Miserable Huts," and "A mudhole almost equal to the great Serbonian bog." Mrs. Abigail Adams had not been charmed with the White House nor the city. The great marsh stretched out in a most forbidding and discouraging manner. Piles of rubbish and heaps of stone, with unsightly masses of timber, gave the place anything but a homelike aspect. There was no accommodation for the wives of congressmen if they had chosen to come. Gay New York and charming Philadelphia disdained Washington.

Eight years had changed much of this. True, Georgetown was more attractive and growing faster, but streets were beginning to be cleared up, mudholes filled in, walks laid, and handsome houses erected. The wife of the secretary of state, charming Dolly Madison, had healed many differences, and Mrs. Madison's drawing room was a favorite resort for senators, ministers, and diplomats. She was often asked to preside at the White House. Mrs. Randolph, the President's daughter, on her very first visit had been delighted with her, and the two became lifelong friends.

Her bright and vivacious sister, Anna Payne, had added no little zest to social life, and her marriage had been quite an event in the slowly growing city. The Van Ness mansion was also the scene of much gayety. Old Virginia belles came up for a few weeks, and there were balls and parties at Georgetown, and no end of tea drinkings. The young women found plenty of cavaliers, and when riding was possible gay parties sallied out, stopping at some country inn for midday refreshments.

And though there were many grave questions pending, this promised to be a day of unwonted satisfaction. For the first time great preparations were made. Washington and Georgetown people invited friends, as in those days people were given to hospitality.

Mrs. Jettson had kept her sister Marian a large part of the winter, much to Dolly's discomfiture, but Mr. Floyd had sent for Marian and refused them both the anticipated pleasure of the inauguration.

Jaqueline had come home an undeniable young lady, with her hair done high on her head and sundry touches in her attire that made her very attractive and coquettish. There was great rejoicing, from least to greatest, much envying on Patricia's part, much delight on Varina's and Charles', and a pretty, shy, winsome admiration from Annis.

There was of course the duty visit to the Pineries. Then Jaqueline came down to her Aunt Jane's.

"I'd planned such a delightful time!" declared Mrs. Jettson, between satisfaction and vexation. "There is to be a gay season, with balls and parties and dinners. And, really, the young men are getting to be quite factors in society. I wanted both the girls and you; and, Jaqueline, you've grown monstrously pretty, and your manners have improved so much that you might be fresh from London or Paris. There have been so many fine people here the last two or three years, and building is going on at a rapid rate. Philadelphia and New York will not be able to look down on us much longer. I meant to give you young people a dance and supper, and father won't let the girls come. Marian was mad as a hornet, and poor Dolly stamped around. Father grows queerer about them. But I wanted the company as well. I'm not an old woman, if I have two babies. And I'm quite sure it will be a success if you will come."

"Of course I shall be delighted. Why, it's just charming!" and the pretty face was alight with smiles.

"I shall ask all the folks up for the grand event. You see, brother Randolph is a true Madison man. And, do you know, I like your new mother wonderfully. She is quite like an elder sister, and you'll have a fine time. You'll be just spoiled," laughingly. "But you're not to call me Aunt Jane any more. I won't have it from a tall girl like you, who will no doubt be married herself next winter. How many disconsolates did you leave at Williamsburg?"

"None, I think, so deeply smitten but that a course of Greek and Latin will restore them. I did have a splendid time, though Aunt Catharine would persist in considering me about twelve. It was positively funny. But I had Louis to manage for me. Oh, Jane, I'm awfully sorry about the girls! They cried with disappointment. And they did not know about the party!"

"No, I hadn't the cruelty to speak of that. But I'll whisper to you, Jaqueline, and you must not breathe it. Somebody here has taken a tremendous fancy to Marian. He is well connected, a young civil engineer, and a militia lieutenant; but we are afraid father will blaze out and perhaps refuse to listen. He has quite set his heart on Marian marrying their next neighbor, that Mr. Greaves who lost his wife last summer and has no one to look after his four children but the slave mammy. And Marian just hates him. The idea! Oh, Jaqueline, it is just comforting to have someone to talk to, a young person that you can say anything to!"

"Marian told me. Of course there is the fine estate and the slaves. I do suppose old people think a great deal of that," and there was a touch of regretful wisdom that sat oddly upon the young girl. "And four children! I wouldn't want 'em."

"A young girl has no business with another woman's children. I want you to see this young man. And I want to get your father interested. I think after a little I'll bring it about."

"Mr. Greaves doesn't seem very" – Jaqueline knit her pretty brows, thinking of the fervent tones and impassioned glances that had marked her victorious sway – "very deeply smitten. He and grandfather talked politics and war all the evening."

"But he means business. He has asked for her. He thinks it only respectful to wait a year before beginning his new addresses. So we have until July."

"I wouldn't marry him," declared Jaqueline with much vigor.

"I dare say your father will be easy enough about lovers if they are of the right kind. Don't be in a hurry. Have a good time first. You are so young."

Mrs. Jettson had insisted upon taking in the whole family, and they came the evening before, being comfortably stowed away, although some of Mrs. Mason's relatives who had lately come to Washington insisted upon sharing the honors.

Annis and Charles had been much interested, and questioned Mr. Evans in every conceivable manner as to what it was for, and why America did not have a king or an emperor. Patricia was bubbling over with delight.

Fortunately the day was fair, and everything seemed auspicious. Salutes of cannon were fired from the navy yard at dawn, and responded to from Fort Warburton. The militia from Alexandria and Georgetown, in fine array, marched into the city to escort the new President to the Capitol. Thousands of people gathered along the way, and there was a great hurrahing, emphasized by the waving of hats and handkerchiefs. Mr. Mason and his wife and the two younger children were in a carriage, while the two girls went with Mr. and Mrs. Jettson.

Annis looked out curiously at the scene. There was the tall form of Mr. Jefferson, quite in contrast with the smaller one of his friend, who bore himself with becoming dignity. At twelve Mr. Madison reverently took the oath of office and made his inaugural address, when the cheers and enthusiasm became deafening. It was the first really grand ceremony of the kind that Washington had witnessed.

And now the new President reviewed the array of soldiers, and eager interest marked every step. It was indeed a gala day. Many people were driving around in their carriages, enjoying the sunshine and the crowd.

Then the President, with most of the officers and senators, returned to his home, where Mrs. Madison had prepared tables of refreshments for all who chose to call and pay their respects to the new magistrate.

A fine young fellow in Continental uniform paused at the carriage of the Jettsons, and greeted them cordially.

"This is something like," he said. "Simplicity may be very good in its way, when one cannot help himself, but the nation ought to honor its ruler. I am proud to be in it."

Mrs. Jettson turned and introduced Mr. Ralston to the girls, who smilingly acknowledged his presence.

"Then you could not persuade Miss Floyd?" and he glanced up wistfully.

"Father is not quite in accord with the administration, and he would not consent to her return."

"I am desperately sorry. I managed at the eleventh hour, which was early this morning, to get a ticket to the ball. Some dear friends of mine would have been delighted to chaperone Miss Floyd, if she could have consented to so short a notice. And there will be so many festivities!"

"I regret it deeply," returned Mrs. Jettson. "What a shame!" she said to her husband when Mr. Ralston had left them. "At Long's there could be only a given number accommodated. And to have missed such a fine array of people! I should like to be there myself."

The ball was considered quite a sumptuous affair. A host of beautiful women in their most elegant attire, military men who had not laid aside their trappings "in the piping times of peace," and the brilliant uniforms of the different legations, made a picture quite worthy of the young Capital. Mrs. Madison, in her robe of yellow velvet, her Paris turban with its bird-of-paradise plume, her neck and arms adorned with pearls, dispensed her smiles and greetings with the wonderful tact and sweetness which were never to desert her; jest and repartee ran round the circle; and Mr. Jefferson shone in his genial cordiality. Someone remarked upon his gayety, and the gravity of the new incumbent.

"Can you wonder at it?" he asked. "My shoulders have just been freed from a burden of cares; he is just beginning to assume them." Yet he gave his friend a glance of sympathy and tenderness that indicated a continuance of the lifelong friendship.

Some glowing accounts of the ball found their way to different papers, and it seemed as if Washington was suddenly looming into conspicuousness.

The children were tired with the day's pleasures and ready to go bed. But the next morning they were eager to inspect the Capitol.

Mrs. Adams' plaint about it still held good in many respects. The wings alone had a finished aspect. There were the Senate Chamber and House of Representatives, the nuclei of many things to come. But to Charles and Annis, who looked at it through the romantic eyes of childhood, enlarged by their rather narrow reading, it was grand.

The two elder girls were more interested in Jane's party. There were some of the younger representatives, not averse to dancing with pretty girls and having a merry time while they were off duty. If Philadelphia and New York rather disdained the social pleasures of the newer city, it was a great favorite with the more southern States; and Virginia did all honor to her fine line of Presidents.