Of the awe and reverence which the presence of Washington inspired we
have many records. "I stood," says one writer, "before the door of the
Hall of Congress in Philadelphia, when the carriage of the President
drew up. It was a white coach, or, rather, of a light cream color,
painted on the panels with beautiful groups representing the four
seasons. As Washington alighted, and, ascending the steps, paused on the
platform, he was preceded by two gentlemen bearing large white wands,
who kept back the eager crowd that pressed on every side. At that moment
I stood so near I might have touched his clothes; but I should as soon
have thought of touching an electric battery. I was penetrated with
deepest awe. Nor was this the feeling of the schoolboy I then was. It
pervaded, I believe, every human being that approached Washington; and I
have been told that even in his social hours, this feeling in those who
shared them never suffered intermission. I saw him a hundred times
afterward, but never with any other than the same feeling. The Almighty,
who raised up for our hour of need a man so peculiarly prepared for its
whole dread responsibility, seems to have put a stamp of sacredness upon
his instrument. The first sight of the man struck the eye with
involuntary homage, and prepared everything around him to obey.

"At the time I speak of, he stood in profound silence and had the
statue-like air which mental greatness alone can bestow. As he turned to
enter the building, and was ascending the staircase to the Congressional
hall, I glided along unseen, almost under the cover of the skirts of his
dress, and entered into the lobby of the House, which was in session to
receive him.

"At Washington's entrance there was a most profound silence. House,
lobbies, gallery, all were wrapped in deepest attention. And the souls