Woodrow Wilson to Mary Allen Hulbert Peck

Here I am marooned in the White House, alone in my majesty and discontent. The family left for Cornish on Friday. Of course I intended to go with them, and fancied in my simplicity that since this week was to contain the fourth, and the Houses were sure to adjourn over the holiday and all that, I might stay with them for a week or ten days before settling down here to my lonely vigil over legislation and the affairs of State. No such luck! Within a few hours of the starting hour questions of the first importance turned up (as only questions of the first importance are smart and mean enough to know how to do) which no man in his senses would think of trying to settle off hand or of turning over to some one else to settle; and so I gave up going then and flattered myself I would follow next Monday. Again stern visaged Duty lifted its hand and said “Not on your life, my dear, sanguine boy! You seem to forget that you are my lad, that you are President of the United States and not your own master, — no not for a minute”. “What is it now?” I said, savage like, and with scant manners. “You forget, lad, that this fourth of July is the fiftieth anniversary of the battle of Gettysburg, the battle that turned the tide of the civil war. A big celebration is on. Old men both in blue and in gray are to be there. It would be nothing less than a scandal were the President to prefer a personal holiday instead of being present. Besides they would say, This is what comes of making a southerner President: he is not in sympathy, deep down in his heart, with this celebration at all”. Again I clapped my heels together, saluted, and prepared to obey orders, not give them. I may take a turn down the river on one of the Government’s boats to get a whiff of the sea before Friday; but to Cornish I cannot go. I shall have to content myself with a week end later on.

I suppose, — I fervently hope, — that you do not know how hot this huge continent has been during the past week. A little life and freshness has come into the air again now, within the last twenty-four hours and we breathe freely again, but it was a frierce trial while we were in it. It was hard to keep one’s head cool, and one’s temper! You would have smiled to see me at church this morning. All alone I sat there, a secret service man directly behind me; and when the sermon was over the whole congregation waited till I walked out, trying to look unself-conscious and at ease, but feeling very miserable indeed. All day long I have been fighting against the weakness and silliness of feeling sorry for myself. I feel more than ever like a prisoner, like a sort of special slave, beguiled by the respect and deference of those about me, but in fact in durance vile and splendid. Congress is quite certain to sit all summer, — probably until the first of October, and here I will sit also. The most I can hope is, that by the end of the session I shall have learned not to tug at my chain and lacerate my, — feelings! It’s a fine discipline, but it comes so late in life! I learn hard. I am not so pliable as I once was.

Washington is quite empty of everybody who can get away. Most of the houses on the best residence streets are closed. One has to go where the other working people live to see any life stirring and get over the sensation that he is forgotten and left behind, as if the population had forgotten to take him away with them. Ah, but it’s grand being President and running the Government. Advise all your friends to try it.

I am well, perversely enough. I try to make myself and my doctor believe now and again that I am overworked and likely to go bad if I do not get away; but my symptoms will not conform. I look as ruddy and husky as I feel. It is chiefly sun–burn, acquired during an occasional game of golf in the broiling sun, but I cannot explain that to everybody, and, besides, it’s none of their business anyway.

I suppose you read of me in the papers; but remember that you are to believe none of it. And permit me to remind you that I do not read of you in the papers,but am dependent upon letters, which I wish for more and more, simply because I am