Trifling as it may seem, the first measure of the new government pertained to the etiquette to be observed at receptions, dinners, etc., in which there was more pomp and ceremony than at the present time.  Washington himself made a greater public display, with his chariot and four, than any succeeding president.  His receptions were stately.  The President stood with dignity, clad in his velvet coat, never shaking hands with any one, however high his rank.  He walked between the rows of visitors, pretty much as Napoleon did at the Tuileries, saying a few words to each; but people of station were more stately and aristocratic in those times than at the present day, even in New England towns.  Washington himself was an old-school gentleman of the most formal sort, and, although benevolent in aspect and kindly in manner, was more tenacious of his dignity than great men usually are.  This had been notable throughout the war.  His most intimate friends and daily associates, his most prominent and trusted generals, patriotic but hot-headed complainants, turbulent malcontents,—­all alike found him courteous and considerate, yet hedged about with an impassive dignity that no one ever dared to violate.  A superb horseman, a powerful and active swordsman, an unfailing marksman with rifle or pistol, he never made a display of these qualities; but there are many anecdotes of such prowess in sudden emergencies as caused him to be idolized by his companions in arms, while yet their manifestations of feeling were repressed by the veneration imposed upon all by his lofty personal dignity.

Thus also as President.  It was no new access of official pomposity, but the man’s natural bearing, that maintained a lofty reserve at these public receptions.  Possibly, too, he may have felt the necessity of maintaining the prerogative of the Federal head of all these independent, but now united, States.  Hence, on his visit to Boston, soon after his inauguration, he was offended with John Hancock, then governor of Massachusetts, for neglecting to call on him, as etiquette certainly demanded.  The pompous, overrated old merchant, rich and luxurious, though a genuine patriot, perhaps thought that Washington would first call on him, as governor of the State; perhaps he was withheld from his official duty by an attack of the gout; but at last he saw the necessity, and was borne on men’s shoulders into the presence of the President.

In considering the vital points in the administration of Washington the reader will not expect to find any of the spirited and exciting elements of the Revolutionary period.  The organization and ordering of governmental policies is not romantic, but hard, patient, persevering work.  All questions were yet unsettled,—­at least in domestic matters, such as finance, tariffs, and revenue.  One thing is clear enough, that the national debt and the State debts and the foreign debt altogether amounted to about seventy-five million