Inaugural speech in full | Frosty outlook ahead | First Lady passes fashion test | Order of the day | People of Selma | Things to come | No excuse for prejudice | A day out with Mum and Dad | A slave's journey | Musical inspiration | A brave new world | Elizabeth Alexander: poem | Derek Walcott: poem

As the freezing first light broke over Washington, they began to arrive, pilgrims at the biggest inauguration that the city has seen, witnesses to a new presidential dawn. The inauguration of Barack Obama as America’s 44th President began for many in fleeces and overcoats – and ended for a more select few in ballgowns and black ties: in between came a torrent of remarkable oratory, the most solemn oath of office, stirring music, pomp and pageantry and, inevitably, a few hiccups.

Mr Obama and his wife began the day at St John’s Episcopal Church for an hour-long service, accompanied by Vice-President-elect Joseph Biden and his wife Jill. This was followed, in accordance with tradition, by coffee in the White House with departing President George Bush and Vice-President Dick Cheney.

As Mr Obama entered the building he will occupy for at least the next four years, the departing President gave a pat on the back to the man who succeeds him, a small sign of the extraordinary cordiality with which the transfer of power has been handled. In accordance with tradition, Mr Bush left a note in the White House desk for his Democratic successor, its contents as yet undivulged.

As the motorcade pulled out, Mr Bush blew a kiss towards the White House. Mr Obama would pay tribute to his predecessor’s service but the crowd outside the White House was less forgiving. They taunted the outgoing President with a chant often used by fans of a winning sports team: “Na, na, na, na – hey, hey – good-bye.” Some spectators waved “Arrest Bush” signs along the motorcade route. The two men sat side by side as the bulletproof limousine sped towards the Capitol. Snipers in black outfits were visible on every rooftop.

The crowds packed ever more densely into the National Mall, and the guests of honour began to arrive at the Capitol, the representatives of an older Democratic leadership, the new guns of the Obama Administration and the newer royalty of celebrity. The first person to arrive in the VIP seats was the actor Denzel Washington, to be followed by luminaries such as Beyoncé Knowles, Steven Spielberg and John Cusack. The new and bruising White House Chief of Staff, Rahm Emanuel, took his seats to chants of “Rahmbo”.

Senator Edward Kennedy, who is suffering from brain cancer, took his seat and blew kisses to the crowd. A few hours later he would collapse during the inauguration lunch. Muhammad Ali, an iconic emblem for American civil rights, cut a similarly frail figure. By contrast, the Obama daughters, Sasha and Malia, beamed with youth as they bounced down the steps.

Here too were members of Mr Obama’s Kenyan family, sitting a few yards away from Oprah Winfrey and the former Vice-President Al Gore. Arriving to the strains of Hail to the Chief, a tune he was hearing for the last time as its focus, George Bush smiled a quarter-smile. The outgoing Vice-President, Dick Cheney, appeared in a wheelchair, having strained his back packing up to move house, perhaps the most symbolic image possible for the

Continued from page 2 last moments of a lame and unpopular presidency. Mr Obama took his seat and the dense ocean of humanity stretching out one and half miles in front of him seemed to roar in unison. “O-BA-MA! O-BA-MA!”

Rick Warren, the evangelical pastor, said a prayer. Aretha Franklin, wearing a fantastical grey hat with a bow the size of a small eagle, belted out My Country ’Tis of Thee while Mr Obama listened with eyes closed and head tilted, the attitude adopted by man who knows Soul. It is not a look any president before him would have attempted.

F inally, Mr Obama rose to make his oath. A man who has hardly put a word wrong since announcing his candidacy had only 35 words to say, and he got them wrong. He began speaking before John Roberts, the Chief Justice, had given him his cue; Mr Roberts then got the words in the wrong order, and Mr Obama, after hesitation, repeated them. It was probably as close as a presidential swearing-in ceremony has ever come to collapsing in giggles.

His speech, crafted by the 27-year-old speechwriting prodigy Jon Favreau began in a flurry of grim warnings, he spoke of “gathering clouds and raging storms”. Mr Favreau has spent months studying Mr Obama’s speech patterns, reading the books he reads and has written, and echoing his language to capture the cadences of his oratory.

The new President built steadily to a climax: “Let it be said by our children’s children that when we were tested, we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back, nor did we falter; and with eyes fixed on the horizon and God’s grace upon us, we carried forth that great gift of freedom and delivered it safely to future generations.” His seven-year-old daughter, soon to be the youngest inhabitant of the White House since John F. Kennedy’s presidency, gave him the thumbs-up.

The luncheon in honour of President Obama and Vice-President Biden involved pheasant and duck, sour cherry chutney and molasses sweet potatoes: a fairly indigestible offering for a man who survived on grilled salmon for most of the election campaign.

In mid-afternoon, the presidential parade set off down Pennsylvania Avenue, the motorcade moving at walking pace. The crowds, many of them African-Americans, were kept back a distance from the President, secure behind tinted bullet-proof windows.

Perhaps realising that the tone of the day was becoming sombre, the new President and First Lady finally emerged from the limousine and walked down the avenue, hand in hand, as the crowd cheered and a posse of secret service agents followed, anxiously scanning to left and right As the parade ended and the light began to fade, a bitter wind blew up again, the streets slowly cleared, and Mr Obama’s words from his speech seemed to echo again: “In the face of our common dangers, in this winter of our hardship . . .”

Reader offer: Dreams from My Father

To order this book for the offer price of £17.00 plus free postage, rrp £20, then please call 0845 2712134 or visit timesonline.co.uk/booksfirst quoting J0823

Times Recommends

• Experts baffled by vanishing sea lions
• CIA caught in a dirty and secretive war
• Double life of Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab