When President Adams finally released dispatches from the envoys to France, the American public was outraged and none more so than Washington, who felt grimly vindicated. “What a scene of corruption and profligacy has these communications disclosed in the Directors of a people with whom the United States have endeavored to treat upon fair, just, and honorable ground!” he told one senator.40 Federalists profited from the disastrous turn in Republicans’ fortunes produced by the XYZ Affair. France claimed the right to seize and confiscate British cargo aboard American ships; Adams promptly pushed through measures to protect American shipping and strengthen coastal defenses. In late April he signed legislation creating the Navy Department and a month later approved a new army of more than ten thousand men, styled a provisional army to quiet fears of a standing army, which would be activated in the event of a French invasion. In July Congress authorized an additional force of twelve regiments to be organized at once. As the United States abrogated its former treaties with France, American naval vessels were permitted to open fire on any French ships threatening American merchant vessels. The Quasi-War—or what President Adams called “the half war with France”—was now officially under way.41

War fever gripped the country and, judging by Nelly Custis’s letters, infected Mount Vernon itself. Insisting that Americans must “extirpate the demons”—the French—Nelly gave her friend some humorous advice on preparations: “You must procure a black dress, the fashion of it we will settle hereafter. We shall have black helmets of morocco leather, ornamented with black bugles, and an immense plume of black feathers.”42 Martha Washington also reacted in shrill tones to events in Paris, decrying the arrogance and deception of the French Directory.

Whether to his dread or secret relief, Washington felt a powerful tide tugging him back into politics. On May 19 Hamilton sent him a provocative letter saying that the Jeffersonians were conspiring with the French to subvert the Constitution and convert America into “a province of France.”43 Hamilton recommended that Washington tour the southern states, “under some pretense of health,” to make speeches combating virulent pro-French feeling in the region.44 “You ought also to be aware, my dear sir,” Hamilton continued, pulling him into the political vortex, “that in the event of an open rupture with France, the public voice will again call you to command the armies of your country.”45 Cooling off Hamilton’s overheated rhetoric, Washington replied that he could not make a tour for health reasons because his health had never been finer. He also foresaw no immediate threat of war or “formidable invasion” of America by France.46 Still, if war came, Washington thought the public would prefer “a man more in his prime.”47 Then just as it looked as if Washington, aged sixty-six, might slam the door shut on his political career forever, he nudged it open a crack. In the event of war, he declared, “I should like, previously, to know who would be my coadjutors and whether you would be disposed to take an active part, if arms are to be resorted to.”48

This statement—that Washington would sally forth only if accompanied by Hamilton—was to be pregnant with the most extraordinary consequences. For all his sentimental talk about vegetating under his vine and fig tree, Washington was still passionate about politics and incensed by French behavior. As he had told Lafayette with fervor, after having fought the British for American freedom, he could not “remain an unconcerned spectator” as France tried to obliterate that freedom.49 As soon as Washington responded to his gambit, Hamilton quickly upped the stakes, telling Washington that if he served under him, he would expect to be “Inspector General with a command in the line.”50 Because Washington did not expect to take the field, the inspector general would function as acting commander, charged with safeguarding both Washington’s reputation and national security. In short order, a deal had been struck that Alexander Hamilton would be second in command to Washington—an understanding that was to have fateful consequences for President Adams.

On June 13 Washington sat under the portico of Mount Vernon with Polish nobleman Julian Niemcewicz and talked politics. As they savored breezes coming off the Potomac, Washington upbraided the French government with such “passionate wrath” that Niemcewicz was taken aback.51 The ex-president, protesting the plunder of American shipping and the unforgivable insults to American envoys, sounded warlike. “Submission is vile,” Washington thundered, saying that rather than see “freedom and independence trodden under foot,” he would “pour out the last drop of blood which is yet in my veins.”52 He expressed sympathy for Adams’s truculent stance: “I, in his place, perhaps would be less vehement in expression, but I would prepare myself steadily and boldly in the same fashion.”53

Washington mentioned that he and Adams had exchanged no letters since he had left office. Four days later he addressed a letter to the second president, inviting him to stay at Mount Vernon should he visit the federal district that summer. In a friendly tone, Washington lauded Adams’s speeches, making one wonder whether he did not already have command of the new army in mind. Setting the stage for later problems, Adams replied with a frank admission of his inadequacy in military matters and said he was vacillating on whether to call out the “old generals or to appoint a young set” in forming an army.54 “I must tap you sometimes for advice,” Adams concluded. “We must have your name, if you . . . will permit us to use it. There will be more efficacy in it than in many an army.”55 This was tantamount to an offer to command the new army, but Adams showed little awareness of its impact upon someone as strong-willed as George Washington. Sure in his command of nuance, Washington informed Adams that he would gladly serve in case of “actual invasion by a formidable force.”56 Foreshadowing his preference for Hamilton as his chief deputy, Washington also urged Adams to appoint seasoned officers from the late war “without respect to grade.”57

In early July President Adams officially named Washington head of the new army, with the rank of lieutenant general and commander in chief. Before making this decision, Adams did not bother to consult Washington, who was thunderstruck to learn from the newspapers of his appointment and unanimous Senate confirmation. For three days, starting on July 11, Washington conferred at Mount Vernon with Secretary of War McHenry, who brought his commission. Adams had decided to retain McHenry, Pickering, and Wolcott from Washington’s second-term cabinet and would come to question the loyalty of these men who revered Washington and Hamilton and were often baffled by Adams’s quirkily unpredictable behavior.

Adams had asked McHenry to sound out Washington on his preferred officers without realizing that Washington would regard his advice as binding. The ex-president voiced all the familiar fears that had accompanied his return to politics in 1787 and 1789—that people would whisper scornfully that he was breaking his public pledges to retire, that he was power-hungry, and so on. Washington himself marveled at his own willingness to return to service, telling John Trumbull that “this is an age of wonders, and I have once more consented to become an actor in the great drama.”58 Before long, applications for army appointments tumbled in upon him.

In taking the position, Washington reiterated his view that it would be unwise for him “to come forward before the emergency becomes evident.”59 For this reason, he thought it all-important to select his own general officers, who would shape up the army before he assumed direct command. He also decided to repeat his wartime precedent of waiving a salary and being reimbursed only for any expenses incurred.