*
In addition to warmer days and sunny skies, spring brought an intriguing new gentleman to New York to join the president’s cabinet as the secretary of state. A Virginian planter by birth, Thomas Jefferson was, by reputation, no stranger to me. My sister had known him well in Paris, where he’d served as the American minister to France, and to hear her lavish praises upon him, I suspected he’d been another of her conquests, or perhaps she’d been his. Doubtless not wishing to shock her provincial younger sister, as she often playfully called me, she’d never confessed to having followed the regrettable fashion of Parisian ladies and taken a lover—but if she had, I do believe Mr. Jefferson might have been her choice.
Alexander was eager to make Mr. Jefferson’s acquaintance and to see what measure of gentleman he would prove to be, and so soon after he’d settled himself in his lodgings in New York, we entertained him at a supper at our house. I enjoyed giving dinners and suppers like this, one of the opportunities I had to meet the gentlemen who so filled my husband’s days and conversations.
From Angelica’s description, I’d expected Mr. Jefferson to be a true patrician, but my first impression was of an overgrown, gangling youth, his face spotted overall with freckles. He wore an embroidered coat of brilliant blue silk and red smallclothes, certainly the attire of a stylish French gentleman, yet he had none of a gentleman’s presence or bearing. Unlike my husband, who had retained his strict military bearing, Mr. Jefferson moved as loosely as one of my children’s toy puppets with string for joints, and even at table he sat lazily unbalanced with one arm flung over the back of a chair.
Still, he was a most agreeable guest and made good company at our table, and like Alexander and Angelica, clearly delighted in books and learning, sprinkling phrases in French and Latin through his speech, though he offered surprisingly few opinions of his own. Angelica had warned me that he was very particular in his food and wines, having developed exceptionally refined tastes whilst in Paris, but he was cordial enough with our more humble New York fare. He was in fact so personable that I marveled that he was reputed to be good friends with his fellow Virginians Mr. Madison and Colonel Monroe, neither of whom made amiable society. Most of all, however, I was relieved to see that Mr. Jefferson and Alexander appeared to enjoy each other’s company, a fortunate convenience considering how often they’d be expected to work side by side in the government.
They soon had their opportunity. One of the most contested elements to Alexander’s proposed funding bill was the assumption by the federal government of the various war debts incurred by the individual states. State taxes would therefore be lessened, but the federal government could now levy federal taxes to raise funds for the betterment of the entire country. Consolidating the thirteen debts into one seemed a logical action, but the representatives of states with lesser debt howled at what they perceived as a gross inequality. They failed to see the overall good to be gained for the country as a whole, and instead thought only of how they did not wish to be forced to pay another state’s debt.
Despite Alexander’s fierce lobbying for assumption, it was voted down by the House in April. In early June, the rest of the funding bill was passed, and the issue of assumption was presumed by all to be as good as dead and buried. Except, of course, by my husband, who continued to see it as an essential key to federal finances and to binding the states irrevocably together as a union, and was determined not to let it fade away.
But there was also another, equally heated question facing the congressmen: that of the location of a new capital city. No one denied that a permanent capital needed to be established and built to serve the country’s needs—and likewise an interim capital decided while the permanent one was constructed—but again the northern representatives favored a site more convenient to them, in either New York or Philadelphia, while the men from the south endorsed a more centrally located placement along the Potomac River.
There was far more at stake than mere convenience, however. The winning site would be poised to become one of the great cities of the world, another London, Paris, or Rome. The value of property surrounding the new capital could soar overnight. There would be a boon in all the building trades to create the new buildings of government as well as housing for new citizens. Most of all, those who lived closed to the new capital would surely be the ones most likely to be heard by Congress, and their desires addressed more swiftly than citizens who lived at a distance.
Considering itself the front-runner, New York City had already spent substantial amounts to make the old statehouse into Federal Hall, improve other public buildings and streets, and had begun work on a new president’s residence. Those in favor of the Potomac location argued that it represented an opportunity to build from scratch, without any existing impediments. It had become a rancorous stalemate, with neither side wishing to concede to the other.
As can be imagined, Alexander was in favor of New York City as the permanent capital. So was I: not only because my husband wished it, but because our home and friends were already located there, and it was also a convenient location for me to visit my family up the river at The Pastures. I’d no desire to pack up my household and children to remove south to a rented house in Philadelphia, or worse, even farther away to the shores of Virginia.
There was also another pressing reason for us to remain in New York City. I wasn’t sure we could afford to live in the larger and more expensive city of Philadelphia. As soon as Alexander had accepted his appointment as secretary, he’d given over his entire law practice to his old friend Mr. Troup, not wanting there to be any hint of a conflict between his new position and his old profession.