of his own for fomenting trouble, struck an alliance with the
Merrys and also declined the President's invitation. Jefferson was
incensed at their conduct, but put the blame upon Mrs. Merry, whom
he characterized privately as a "virago who has already disturbed our
harmony extremely."

A brilliant English essayist has observed that a government to secure
obedience must first excite reverence. Some such perception, coinciding
with native taste, had moved George Washington to assume the trappings
of royalty, in order to surround the new presidential office with
impressive dignity. Posterity has, accordingly, visualized the first
President and Father of his Country as a statuesque figure, posing at
formal levees with a long sword in a scabbard of white polished leather,
and clothed in black velvet knee-breeches, with yellow gloves and a
cocked hat. The third President of the United States harbored no such
illusions and affected no such poses. Governments were made by rational
beings--"by the consent of the governed," he had written in a memorable
document--and rested on no emotional basis. Thomas Jefferson remained
Thomas Jefferson after his election to the chief magistracy; and so
contemporaries saw him in the President's House, an unimpressive figure
clad in "a blue coat, a thick gray-colored hairy waistcoat, with a red
underwaist lapped over it, green velveteen breeches, with pearl buttons,
yarn stockings, and slippers down at the heels." Anyone might have found
him, as Senator Maclay did, sitting "in a lounging manner, on one hip
commonly, and with one of his shoulders elevated much above the other,"
a loose, shackling figure with no pretense at dignity.

In his dislike for all artificial distinctions between man and man,
Jefferson determined from the outset to dispense a true Southern
hospitality at the President's House and to welcome any one at any
hour on any day. There was therefore some point to John Quincy Adams's
witticism that Jefferson's "whole eight years was a levee." No one could
deny that he entertained handsomely. Even his political opponents rose
from his table with a comfortable feeling of satiety which made them
more kindly in their attitude toward their host. "We sat down at the
table at four," wrote Senator Plumer of New Hampshire, "rose at six,
and walked immediately into another room and drank coffee. We had a very
good dinner, with a profusion of fruits and sweetmeats. The wine was
the best I ev