The value of the live stock depends more upon the quality than quantity of the different species of it, and this again upon the demand, and judgment or fancy of purchasers.

GEORGE WASHINGTON. MOUNT VERNON, July 9, 1799.

[135] It appears that the testator omitted the word "nine,"—Sparks.

[136] As General Washington never had any children, he gave the larger part of his property to his nephews and nieces, and the children of Mrs. Washington's son by her first marriage. The principal heir was Bushrod Washington, son of his brother, John Augustine Washington.—SPARKS.

[137] This paragraph answers the question which has sometimes been asked, with an unfriendly spirit, "Why did not Washington manumit his slaves during his lifetime?" He was ever anxious to give them freedom, and to see the system abolished from the republic. In 1783, he wrote to Lafayette: "The scheme which you propose, as a precedent to encourage the emancipation of the black people in this country, from the state of bondage in which they are held, is a striking evidence of the benevolence of your heart. I shall be happy to join you, in so laudable a work."

To Robert Morris he wrote in October 1786: "There is not a man living, who wishes more sincerely than I do to see a plan adopted for the abolition of slavery; but there is only one proper and effectual mode by which it can be accomplished, and that is, by legislative authority; and this, as far as my suffrage will go, shall never be wanting. But when slaves, who are happy and contented with their present masters, are tampered with and seduced to leave them; when masters are taken unawares by these practices; when a conduct of this kind begets discontent on one side and resentment on the other; and when it happens to fall on a man whose purse will not measure with that of the Society [Quakers], and he loses his property for want of means to defend it; it is oppressive in such a case, and not humanity in any, because it introduces more evils than it can cure."

To John F. Mercer, of Virginia, he wrote, a few months later: "I never mean, unless some particular circumstances should compel me to it, to possess another slave by purchase, it being among my first wishes to see some plan adopted by which slavery in this country may be abolished by law."

In 1794, he wrote to Tobias Lear, his private secretary, then in England, endeavoring to negotiate the sale of some of Washington's wild lands, that one object he had in view in making sales was to place himself in a position to emancipate his slaves. "Another motive," he wrote—"which is, indeed, more powerful than all the rest—is, to liberate a certain species of property, which I possess, very reluctantly to my own feelings, but which imperious necessity compels," &c.

In 1797, he wrote to his nephew, Lawrence Lewis: "I wish, from my soul that the legislature of this state could see the policy of a gradual abolition of slavery. It might prevent much future mischief."



CHAPTER XLII.

WASHINGTON AT THE CLOSE OF HIS LIFE—EXPOSURE TO A STORM—TAKES COLD—ITS FATAL EFFECTS—TOBIAS LEAR'S ACCOUNT OF HIS SICKNESS AND DEATH—HIS FUNERAL—INTELLIGENCE OF HIS DEATH REACHES CONGRESS—PROCEEDINGS OF THE TWO HOUSES—ACTION OF THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES—NATIONAL MOURNING—FUNERAL ORATION BY GENERAL LEE—EFFECT OF WASHINGTON'S DEATH ABROAD—HONORS TO HIS MEMORY—FONTANES' FUNERAL ORATION AT PARIS.

When the winter of 1799 set in, cold and stormy, toward the middle of December, and ice began to grow thick in the coves and creeks of the Potomac, Washington, enjoying a degree of robust health and vigor of mind and body uncommon for men of his years and labors, was found still engaged in his out-of-door employments, unmindful of the frosty air and inclement weather. His whole aspect gave promise of many years of serene old age. His nephew, Lawrence Lewis, was with him most of the time at this period, and the family circle at Mount Vernon was full of joy, contentment, and peace.

One frosty morning, Washington and his nephew walked out together, when the former pointed out to the latter some of his projected improvements near the mansion. Among other places, he showed him the spot where he proposed to erect a new family burial-vault. He spoke of its form and dimensions, and then said, "This change I shall make the first of all, for I may require it before the rest."

"When I parted from him," said Major Lewis, in long-after years, "he stood on the steps of the front door, where he took leave of myself and another. He had taken his usual ride, and the clear, healthy flush on his cheek, and his sprightly manner, brought the remark from both of us that we had never seen the general look so well. I have sometimes thought him decidedly the handsomest man I ever saw; and when in a lively mood, so full of pleasantry, so agreeable to all with whom he associated, I could hardly realize that he was the same Washington whose dignity awed all who approached him."

Two or three days afterward, the weather changed. In his diary, under date of December 11th, Washington noted that there was wind and rain; and that at night, when the clouds had dispersed, there was "a large circle around the moon." On the following day, a storm of snow set in at one o'clock, P. M., which soon changed, first to hail, and then to rain. Washington was caught out in it. As usual, he had been in the saddle since ten o'clock in the morning, inspecting operations upon the Mansion-house farm at various places, and returned in time for dinner at three o'clock. Mr. Lear, his former private secretary, and who had, on his appointment to the chief command of the army, resumed that post, was now with him. He had just finished some letters, and given them to Washington to frank, when he observed snow hanging to the general's hair about his neck, and he expressed a fear that he might be wet. "Oh, no," Washington replied; "my great-coat has kept me quite dry." He then franked the letters, at the same time observing that the storm was becoming too heavy for a servant to ride in it all the way to the post-office, at Alexandria. It being late dinner-time, the food all upon the table, and the family waiting for him, he sat down to the meal without changing his damp clothes.

On rising the following morning, Washington complained of a sore throat. He had evidently taken cold the preceding day. The snow lay three inches deep upon the ground, and was still falling. He omitted his usual ride, and remained within-doors until noon, when the clouds broke, and the sun came out warm. He occupied himself before dinner in marking some trees on the lawn, between the mansion and the high river-bank, that were to be cut down; and with his compass and chain he traced out several lines for improvements.

A hoarseness, that had troubled him a little all day, grew worse after dinner; yet he regarded it as of very little importance. At twilight it was quite distressing, yet he was cheerful all the evening. He sat in the parlor with Mrs. Washington and Mr. Lear. Mr. Lewis and young Custis were absent; and Mrs. Lewis, just confined with her first child, was in her chamber. Newspapers were brought in early in the evening. Washington looked them over, and, when he found anything interesting, he would read it aloud as well as his hoarseness would permit. At about nine o'clock, Mrs. Washington withdrew and went up to Mrs. Lewis's chamber, when the general requested Mr. Lear to read to him the debates of the Virginia assembly, then in session, on the election of senator and governor. "On hearing Mr. Madison's observations respecting Mr. Monroe," says Mr. Lear, who wrote a detailed account of Washington's sickness and death, "he appeared much affected, and spoke with some degree of asperity on the subject, which I endeavored to moderate, as I always did on such occasions. On his retiring, I observed to him that he had better take something to remove his cold. He answered: 'No, you know I never take anything for a cold. Let it go as it came.'"

Mr. Lear's account of the brief sickness and speedy death of Washington is so short, yet circumstantial and perspicuous, and may not be condensed without injury to its completeness, that we will give it in his own words:—

"Between two and three o'clock on Saturday morning" (the fourteenth), says Mr. Lear, "he awoke Mrs. Washington, and told her that he was very unwell, and had an ague. She observed that he could scarcely speak, and breathed with difficulty, and would have got up to call a servant; but he would not permit her, lest she should take a cold. As soon as the day appeared, the woman (Caroline) went into the room to make fire, and Mrs. Washington sent her immediately to call me. I got up, put on my clothes as quickly as possible, and went to his chamber. Mrs. Washington was then up, and related to me his being ill, as before stated. I found the general breathing with difficulty, and hardly able to utter a word intelligibly. He desired Mr. Rawlins (one of the overseers) might be sent for, to bleed him before the doctor could arrive. I despatched a servant instantly for Rawlins, and another for Doctor Craik, and returned again to the general's chamber, where I found him in the same situation as I had left him.

"A mixture of molasses, vinegar, and butter, was prepared, to try its effects upon his throat; but he could not swallow a drop. Whenever he attempted it, he appeared to be distressed, convulsed, and almost suffocated. Rawlins came in soon after sunrise, and prepared to bleed him. When the arm was ready, the general, observing that Rawlins appeared to be agitated, said, as well as he could speak, 'Don't be afraid.' And when the incision was made, he observed, 'The orifice is not large enough.' However, the blood ran pretty freely. Mrs. Washington, not knowing whether bleeding was proper or not in the general's situation, begged that much might not be taken from him, lest it should be injurious, and desired me to stop it; but, when I was about to untie the string, the general put his hand to prevent it, and, as he could not speak, he said,' More, more.' Mrs. Washington being still very uneasy, lest too much blood should be taken, it was stopped after taking about half a pint. Finding that no relief was obtained from bleeding, and that nothing would go down the throat, I proposed bathing it externally with sal volatile, which was done; and in the operation, which was with the hand, and in the gentlest manner, he observed, 'It is very sore.' A piece of flannel, dipped in sal volatile, was put around his neck, and his feet bathed in warm water, but without affording any relief.

"About eight o'clock in the morning, he expressed a desire to get up. His clothes were put on, and he was led to a chair by the fire. He found no relief from that position, and lay down again about ten o'clock.

"In the meantime, before Doctor Craik arrived, Mrs. Washington desired me to send for Doctor Brown, of Port Tobacco, whom Doctor Craik had recommended to be called, if any case should ever occur that was seriously alarming. I despatched a messenger immediately for Doctor Brown between eight and nine o'clock. Doctor Craik came in soon after; and, upon examining the general, he put a blister of cantharides upon the throat, took some more blood from him, and had a gargle of vinegar and sage-tea prepared; and ordered some vinegar and hot water, for him to inhale the steam of it, which he did; but, in attempting to use the gargle, he was almost suffocated. When the gargle came from the throat, some phlegm followed, and he attempted to cough, which the doctor encouraged him to do as much as possible; but he could only attempt it. About eleven o'clock, Doctor Craik requested that Doctor Dick might be sent for, as he feared Doctor Brown would not come in time. A messenger was accordingly despatched for him. About this time the general was bled again. No effect, however, was produced by it, and he remained in the same state, unable to swallow anything.

"Doctor Dick came about three o'clock, and Doctor Brown arrived soon after. Upon Doctor Dick's seeing the general, and consulting a few minutes with Doctor Craik, he was bled again. The blood came very slow, was thick, and did not produce any symptoms of fainting. Doctor Brown came into the chamber soon after, and, upon feeling the general's pulse, the physicians went out together. Doctor Craik returned soon after. The general could now swallow a little. Calomel and tartar-emetic were administered, but without any effect.

"About half-past four o'clock, he desired me to call Mrs. Washington to his bedside, when he requested her to go down into his room, and take from his desk two wills which she would find there, and bring them to him, which she did. Upon looking at them, he gave her one, which he observed was useless, as being superseded by the other, and desired her to burn it, which she did, and took the other and put it into her closet.

"About five o'clock, he was helped up again; and, after sitting about half an hour, he desired to be undressed and put to bed, which was done.

"After this was done, I returned to his bedside and took his hand. He said to me: 'I find I am going. My breath can not last long. I believed from the first that the disorder would prove fatal. Do you arrange and record all my late military letters and papers.[138] Arrange my accounts and settle my books, as you know more about them than any one else; and let Mr. Rawlins finish recording my other letters, which he has begun.' I told him this should be done. He then asked if I recollected anything that was essential for him to do, as he had but a very short time to continue with us. I told him that I could recollect nothing, but that I hoped he was not so near his end. He observed, smiling, that he certainly was, and that, as it was the debt which we must all pay, he looked to the event with perfect resignation.

"In the course of the afternoon he appeared to be in great pain and distress from the difficulty of breathing, and frequently changed his posture in bed. On these occasions, I lay upon the bed, and endeavored to raise him, and turn him with as much ease as possible. He appeared penetrated with gratitude for my attentions, and often said, 'I am afraid I shall fatigue you too much;' and, upon my assuring him that I could feel nothing but a wish to give him ease, he replied, 'Well, it is a debt we must pay to each other; and I hope, when you want aid of this kind, you will find it....'

"About five o'clock, Doctor Craik came again into the room, and, upon going to the bedside, the general said to him: 'Doctor, I die hard, but I am not afraid to go. I believed, from my first attack, that I should not survive it. My breath can not last long.' The doctor pressed his hand, but could not utter a word. He retired from the bedside, and sat by the fire, absorbed in grief.

"Between five and six o'clock, Doctor Dick and Doctor Brown came into the room, and with Doctor Craik went to the bed, when Doctor Craik asked him if he could sit up in the bed. He held out his hand, and I raised him up. He then said to the physicians:

"'I feel myself going. I thank you for your attentions; but I pray you to take no more trouble about me. Let me go off quietly. I can not last long.' They found that all which had been done was without effect. He lay down again, and all retired except Doctor Craik. He continued in the same situation, uneasy and restless, but without complaining; frequently asking what hour it was. When I helped him to move, at this time, he did not speak, but looked at me with strong expressions of gratitude.

"About eight o'clock, the physicians came again into the room, and applied blisters and cataplasms of wheat-bran to his legs and feet, after which they went out, except Doctor Craik, without a ray of hope. I went out about this time, and wrote a line to Mr. Law and Mr. Peter, requesting them to come with their wives (Mrs. Washington's grand-daughters) as soon as possible to Mount Vernon.

"About ten o'clock, he made several attempts to speak to me before he could effect it. At length he said: 'I am just going. Have me decently buried; and do not let my body be put into the vault in less than three days after I am dead.' I bowed assent, for I could not speak. He then looked at me again, and said, 'Do you understand me?' I replied, 'Yes.'—''Tis well,' said he.

"About ten minutes before he expired (which was between ten and eleven o'clock), his breathing became easier. He lay quietly; he withdrew his hand from mine, and felt his own pulse. I saw his countenance change. I spoke to Doctor Craik, who sat by the fire He came to the bedside. The general's hand fell from his wrist. I took it in mine, and pressed it to my bosom. Doctor Craik put his hands over his eyes, and he expired without a struggle or a sigh.

"While we were fixed in silent grief, Mrs. Washington, who was sitting at the foot of the bed, asked with a firm and collected voice, 'Is he gone?' I could not speak, but held up my hand, as a signal that he was no more. ''Tis well,' said she, in the same voice; 'all is over now. I shall soon follow him; I have no more trials to pass through.'[139]

"At the time of his decease, Doctor Craik and myself were in the situation before-mentioned. Mrs. Washington was sitting near the foot of the bed. The general's servant, Christopher, who had been in the room, and standing nearly all day, stood near the bedside. Caroline, Molly, and Charlotte, were in the room, standing near the door. Mrs. Forbes, the housekeeper, was frequently in the room during the day and evening.[140]

"As soon as Doctor Craik could speak, after the distressing scene was closed, he desired one of the servants to ask the gentlemen below to come up-stairs. When they came to the bedside, I kissed the cold hand which I had held to my bosom, laid it down, and went to the other end of the room, where I was for some time lost in profound grief, until aroused by Christopher, desiring me to take care of the general's keys, and other things, which were taken out of his pockets, and which Mrs. Washington directed him to give to me. I wrapped them in the general's handkerchief, and took them to my room."

"It may be asked," says Mr. Custis, "'Why was the ministry of religion wanting to shed its peaceful and benign lustre upon the last hours of Washington? Why was he, to whom the observances of sacred things were ever primary duties through life, without their consolations in his last moments?' We answer, circumstances did not permit. It was but for a little while that the disease assumed so threatening a character as to forbid the encouragement of hope; yet, to stay that summons which none may refuse, to give still further length of days to him whose time-honored life was so dear to mankind, prayers were not wanting to the throne of grace. Close to the couch of the sufferer, resting her head upon that ancient book with which she had been wont to hold pious communion a portion of every day for more than half a century, was the venerable consort, absorbed in silent prayer, and from which she only arose when the mourning group prepared to lead her from the chamber of the dead."[141]

Washington's body was brought down from the chamber at midnight, and laid out in the drawing-room; and on the following morning (Sunday) a plain mahogany coffin was procured from Alexandria, and mourning ordered for the family, the overseers, and the domestics.[142] On the same day, several of the relatives, who had been sent for, arrived, among whom was Mrs. Stuart, the mother of Mrs. Washington's grandchildren. Mr. Lewis and young Custis were in New Kent, and only arrived home in time to be present at the funeral, a servant having been despatched for them.

The family wished the burial to be postponed for a week, to give an opportunity for some of Washington's relatives at a distance to be there. But the physicians decided that the disease of which he died, being of an inflammatory nature, it would not be proper to keep the body so long. The time of the funeral was therefore fixed at twelve o'clock, meridian, on Wednesday, the eighteenth. The Reverend Mr. Davis, of Alexandria, who had officiated at a wedding at Mount Vernon ten months before, was invited to perform the burial service, according to the beautiful ritual of the Protestant Episcopal Church.

Having received information from Alexandria that the military and Freemasons were desirous of showing their respect for their chief and brother, by following his body to the grave, Mr. Lear ordered provisions to be prepared for a large number of people, as some refreshment would be expected by them. And Mr. Robert Hamilton, of Alexandria, wrote to Mr. Lear that a schooner of his would anchor off Mount Vernon, to fire minute-guns while the body was passing from the mansion to the tomb.

The arrangements for the procession at the funeral were made by Colonels Little, Simms, and Deneale, and Doctor Dick. The old family vault was opened and cleaned, and Mr. Lear ordered an entrance-door to be made for it, that it might not be again closed with brick. Mr. Stewart, adjutant of the Alexandria regiment, of which Washington had once been colonel, went down to Mount Vernon to view the ground for the procession.

The people began to collect at Mount Vernon on Wednesday, at eleven o'clock; but, owing to a delay of the military, the time for the procession was postponed until three o'clock. The coffined body of the illustrious patriot lay, meanwhile, beneath the grand piazza of the mansion, where he had so often walked and mused.

Between three and four o'clock the procession moved, and, at the same time, minute-guns were fired from the schooner anchored in the Potomac. The pall-bearers were Colonels Little, Simms, Payne, Gilpin, Ramsay, and Marsteler. Colonel Blackburn preceded the corpse. Colonel Deneale marched with the military. The procession moved out through the gate at the left wing of the house, and proceeded round in front of the lawn, and down to the vault on the right wing of the house. The following was the composition and order of the procession:—

The troops, horse and foot, with arms reversed. Music. The clergy, namely, the Rev. Messrs. Davis, Muir, Moffat, and Addison. The general's horse, with his saddle, holsters, and pistols, led by two grooms (Cyrus and Wilson), in black. The body, borne by the Masons and officers. Principal mourners, namely: Mrs. Stuart and Mrs. Law, Misses Nancy and Sally Stuart, Miss Fairfax and Miss Dennison, Mr. Law and Mr. Peter, Mr. Lear and Doctor Craik, Lord Fairfax and Ferdinando Fairfax. Lodge No. 23. Corporation of Alexandria. All other persons, preceded by Mr. Anderson and the overseers.

When the body arrived near the vault, at the bottom of the lawn, on the high bank of the Potomac, the cavalry halted; the infantry moved forward and formed the in-lining; the Masonic brethren and citizens descended to the vault, and the funeral services of the church were read by the Reverend Mr. Davis. He also pronounced a short discourse. The Masons then performed their peculiar ceremonies, and the body was deposited in the vault. Three general discharges of arms were then given by the infantry and the cavalry; and eleven pieces of artillery, which were ranged back of the vault and simultaneously discharged, "paid the last tribute to the entombed commander-in-chief of the armies of the United States." The sun was now setting, and mournfully that funeral assembly departed for their respective homes.[143]

The federal Congress was in session at Philadelphia when intelligence of the death of Washington reached that city. It was first communicated, on the morning of the eighteenth of December (the day of the funeral), by a passenger in the stage, to an acquaintance. The news spread rapidly, and soon reached the house of representatives, when, immediately after the journals were read, the Honorable John Marshall, of Virginia, arose, and in a voice tremulous with the deepest emotion said:—

"Mr. Speaker, information has just been received that our illustrious fellow-citizen, the commander-in-chief of the American army, and the late president of the United States, is no more. Though this distressing intelligence is not certain, there is too much reason to believe its truth. After receiving information of this national calamity, so heavy and so afflicting, the house of representatives can be but ill fitted for public business. I move you, therefore, that we adjourn." The house immediately adjourned until the next day at eleven o'clock.

When the house reassembled on the morning of the nineteenth, Mr. Marshall addressed them as follows:—

"Mr. Speaker, the melancholy event, which was yesterday announced with doubt, has been rendered but too certain. Our WASHINGTON is no more! The hero, the patriot, and the sage of America—the man on whom in times of danger every eye was turned, and all hopes were placed—lives now only in his own great actions, and in the hearts of an affectionate and afflicted people.

"If, sir, it had even not been usual openly to testify respect for the memory of those whom Heaven has selected as its instruments for dispensing good to man, yet such has been the uncommon worth and such the extraordinary incidents which have marked the life of him whose loss we all deplore, that the whole American nation, impelled by the same feelings, would call with one voice for a public manifestation of that sorrow which is so deep and so universal.

"More than any other individual, and as much as to one individual was possible, has he contributed to found this our wide-spreading empire, and to give to the western world independence and freedom.

"Having effected the great object for which he was placed at the head of our armies, we have seen him convert the sword into the ploughshare, and sink the soldier in the citizen.

"When the debility of our federal system had become manifest, and the bonds which connected this vast continent were dissolving, we have seen him the chief of those patriots who formed for us a constitution, which, by preserving the Union, will, I trust, substantiate and perpetuate those blessings which our Revolution had promised to bestow.

"In obedience to the general voice of his country, calling him to preside over a great people, we have seen him once more quit the retirement he loved, and, in a season more stormy and tempestuous than war itself, with calm and wise determination pursue the true interests of the nation, and contribute, more than any other could contribute, to the establishment of that system of policy which will, I trust, yet preserve our peace, our honor, and our independence.

"Having been twice unanimously chosen the chief magistrate of a free people, we have seen him, at a time when his re-election with universal suffrage could not be doubted, afford to the world a rare instance of moderation, by withdrawing from his station to the peaceful walks of private life.

"However the public confidence may change, and the public affections fluctuate with respect to others, with respect to him they have, in war and in peace, in public and in private life, been as steady as his own firm mind, and as constant as his own exalted virtues.

"Let us, then, Mr. Speaker, pay the last tribute of respect and affection to our departed friend. Let the grand council of the nation display those sentiments which the nation feels. For this purpose I hold in my hand some resolutions, which I take the liberty of offering to the house.

"Resolved, That this house will wait on the president of the United States, in condolence of this national calamity.

"Resolved, That the speaker's chair be shrouded with black, and that the members and officers of the house wear mourning during the session.

"Resolved, That a joint committee of both houses be appointed, to report measures suitable to the occasion; and expressive of the profound sorrow with which Congress is penetrated on the loss of a citizen, first in war, first in peace, first in the hearts of his countrymen."[144]

The house proceeded to appoint a committee of sixteen, with Marshall at their head, to act conjointly with a corresponding senate committee in carrying out the last resolution. A message was soon afterward received from the president, communicating a letter from Mr. Lear that announced the death of Washington. He sent the same to the senate; and that body, on the twenty-third, adopted an appropriate address to the executive, and received from him a response.[145]

The secretary of war issued an order on the nineteenth, requesting General Hamilton to carry into effect the directions of Congress concerning funeral honors to the commander-in-chief, and the wearing of crape in token of mourning. For that purpose, Hamilton issued general orders, prefaced by a most touching eulogy of the dead. "The voice of praise," he said, "would in vain endeavor to exalt a character unrivalled on the lists of true glory. Words would in vain attempt to give utterance to that profound and reverential grief which will penetrate every American bosom, and engage the sympathy of an admiring world."

The secretary of the navy also issued orders in accordance with the resolutions of Congress and the direction of the president. Vessels in domestic and foreign ports were ordered to "be put in mourning for one week, by wearing their colors half-mast high," and the officers and marines were directed to wear crape on the left arm for six months.

On the twenty-third, both houses of Congress adopted the following joint resolutions:—

"Resolved, by the senate and house of representatives of the United States of America, in Congress assembled. That a marble monument be erected by the United States at the capitol of the city of Washington, and that the family of General Washington be requested to permit his body to be deposited under it; and that the monument be so designed as to commemorate the great events of his military and political life.

"And be it further resolved, That there be a funeral procession from Congress Hall to the German Lutheran church, in memory of General GEORGE WASHINGTON, on Thursday, the twenty-sixth instant, and that an oration be prepared, at the request of Congress, to be delivered before both houses that day; and that the president of the senate and speaker of the house of representatives be desired to request one of the members of Congress to prepare and deliver the same.

"And be it further resolved, That it be recommended to the people of the United States to wear crape on their left arm, as mourning, for thirty days.

"And be it further resolved, That the president of the United States be requested to direct a copy of these resolutions to be transmitted to Mrs. Washington, assuring her of the profound respect Congress will ever bear for her person and character, of their condolence on the late afflicting dispensation of Providence; and entreating her assent to the interment of the remains of General Washington in the manner expressed in the first resolution.[146]

"Resolved, That the president of the United States be requested to issue his proclamation, notifying to the people throughout the United States the recommendation contained in the third resolution."

In accordance with the second of the foregoing resolutions. General Henry Lee, of Virginia, then a member of Congress, and one of the committee of sixteen, was invited to pronounce the funeral oration. He was one of Washington's favorites. Throughout the war for independence, he had been admired and beloved by the commander-in-chief for his manly and soldierly qualities, and he had ever been a welcome guest at Mount Vernon.

The choice of orator was an appropriate one. Both houses of Congress went in a body to the German Lutheran church, in Fourth street, above Arch, to listen to the oration.[147] A vast concourse of citizens was also in attendance; and the M'Pherson Blues, a corps of about three hundred young men, mostly from the best families of Philadelphia, attended as a guard of honor on that occasion. Only six of that corps are known to be alive at this time.[148]

On the thirtieth of December, the Congress resolved "that it be recommended to the people of the United States to assemble on the twenty-second day of February next, in such numbers and manner as may be convenient, publicly to testify their grief for the death of General GEORGE WASHINGTON, by suitable eulogies, orations, and discourses, or by public prayers."

The president was requested to issue his proclamation in accordance with this resolution, which he did on the sixth of January; and the birthday of the illustrious Washington, usually celebrated with gayety and festivity, was made, in the year 1800, an occasion of funeral solemnities.

The death of Washington produced a profound sensation in Europe. The English newspapers were filled with eulogies on his character. On hearing of his death, Lord Bridport, who was in command of a British fleet of almost sixty sail, at Torbay, on the coast of Devon, ordered every ship to lower her flag to half-mast; and Bonaparte, then First Consul of France, announced his death to his army, and ordered black crape to be suspended from all the flags and standards in the French service for ten days. In Paris, the citizens showed many demonstrations of respect; and on the "20th Pluviose" (eighth of February, 1800), Louis de Fontanes pronounced an impassioned funeral oration in his honor, in the Temple of Mars.[149]

FOOTNOTES:

[138] In a letter to General Hamilton, written a month afterward, Mr. Lear says: "To Judge Washington the general left by will all his public and private papers. A few hours before his death he observed to him—'I am about to change the scene. I can not last long. I believed from the first the attack would be fatal. Do you arrange all my papers and accounts, as you know more about these things than any one else.'"—Works of Hamilton, vi. 424. There must have been a change of the word me to him, in transcribing this letter for the press, because in no account is the judge mentioned as having been present during Washington's last sickness.

[139] Mrs. Washington died at Mount Vernon, on the twenty-second of May, 1802, in the seventy-first year of her age.

[140] A picture of the room in which Washington died, and the bed on which he expired, may be seen in Lossing's Mount Vernon and its Associations.

[141] Custis's Recollections, &c., p. 477.

[142] At the head of the coffin was placed an ornament, inscribed SURGE AD JUDICUM. At about the middle were the words GLORIA DEO; and upon a silver plate was the record—

GENERAL

GEORGE WASHINGTON,

DEPARTED THIS LIFE ON THE 14TH DECEMBER,

1799, AET. 68.

The coffin was lined with lead: and upon a cover of the same material, to be put on after the coffin was laid in the vault, was a silver shield, nearly three inches in length, inscribed—

GEORGE WASHINGTON,

BORN FEB. 22, 1732.

DIED DECEMBER 14, 1799.

[143] Mount Vernon and its Associations.

[144] These resolutions were drawn by General Henry Lee, who was not present at the time.

[145] The following is a copy of the senate's address, and the president's reply:—

To the President of the United States:

"The senate of the United States respectfully take leave, sir, to express to you their deep regret for the loss their country sustains in the death of General George Washington. This event, so distressing to all our fellow-citizens, must be peculiarly heavy to you, who have long been associated with him in deeds of patriotism. Permit us, sir, to mingle our tears with yours.

"On this occasion it is manly to weep. To lose such a man, at such a crisis, is no common calamity to the world. Our country mourns a father. The Almighty Disposer of human events has taken from us our greatest benefactor and ornament. It becomes us to submit with reverence to him 'who maketh darkness his pavilion.'

"With patriotic pride we review the life of our Washington, and compare him with those of other countries who have been pre-eminent in fame. Ancient and modern times are diminished before him. Greatness and guilt have too often been allied; but his fame is whiter than it is brilliant. The destroyers of nations stood abashed at the majesty of his virtues. It reproved the intemperance of their ambition, and darkened the splendor of victory. The scene is closed, and we are no longer anxious lest misfortune should sully his glory. He has travelled on to the end of his journey, and carried with him an increasing weight of honor; he has deposited it safely, where misfortune can not tarnish it, where malice can not blast it. Favored of Heaven, he departed without exhibiting the weakness of humanity. Magnanimous in death, the darkness of the grave could not obscure his brightness.

"Such was the man whom we deplore. Thanks to God, his glory is consummated! Washington yet lives on earth in his spotless example; his spirit is in heaven.

"Let his countrymen consecrate the memory of the heroic general, the patriotic statesman, and the virtuous sage. Let them teach their children never to forget that the fruits of his labors and his example are their inheritance."

THE PRESIDENT'S ANSWER.

"23 December, 1799.

"Gentlemen of the Senate:

"I receive with the most respectful and affectionate sentiments, in this impressive address, the obliging expressions of your regret for the loss our country has sustained in the death of her most esteemed, beloved, and admired citizen.

"In the multitude of my thoughts and recollections on this melancholy event, you will permit me to say that I have seen him in the days of adversity, in some of the scenes of his deepest distress and most trying perplexities. I have also attended him in his highest elevation and most prosperous felicity, with uniform admiration of his wisdom, moderation, and constancy.

"Among all our original associates in that memorable league of this continent, in 1774, which first expressed the sovereign will of a free nation in America, he was the only one remaining in the general government. Although with a constitution more enfeebled than his, at an age when he thought it necessary to prepare for retirement, I feel myself alone, bereaved of my last brother, yet I derive a strong consolation from the unanimous disposition which appears in all ages and classes to mingle their sorrows with mine on this common calamity to the world.

"The life of our Washington can not suffer by a comparison with those of other countries who have been most celebrated and exalted by fame. The attributes and decorations of royalty could only have served to eclipse the majesty of those virtues which made him, from being a modest citizen, a more resplendent luminary. Misfortune, had he lived, could hereafter have sullied his glory only with those superficial minds who, believing that character and actions are marked by success alone, rarely deserve to enjoy it. Malice could never blast his honor, and Envy made him a singular exception to her universal rule. For himself, he had lived long enough to life and to glory: for his fellow-citizens, if their prayers could have been answered, he would have been immortal; for me, his departure is at a most unfortunate moment. Trusting, however, in the wise and righteous dominion of Providence over the passions of men and the results of their actions, as well as over their lives, nothing remains for me but humble resignation.

"His example is now complete; and it will teach wisdom and virtue to magistrates, citizens, and men, not only in the present age, but in future generations, as long as our history shall be read. If a Traian found a Pliny, a Marcus Aurelius can never want biographers, eulogists, or historians.

"JOHN ADAMS."

[146] In compliance with these resolutions, President Adams wrote a letter to Mrs. Washington on the subject, and received the following reply:—

"MOUNT VERNON, December 31, 1799.

"SIR: While I feel, with keenest anguish, the late dispensation of Divine Providence, I can not be insensible to the mournful tributes of respect and veneration which are paid to the memory of my dear deceased husband; and, as his best services and most anxious wishes were always devoted to the welfare and happiness of his country, to know that they were truly appreciated and gratefully remembered affords no inconsiderable consolation.

"Taught by the great example which I have so long had before me, never to oppose my private wishes to the public will, I must consent to the request made by Congress, which you have had the goodness to transmit to me; and, in doing this, I need not, I can not, say what a sacrifice of individual feeling I make to a sense of public duty.

"With grateful acknowledgments and unfeigned thanks for the personal respect and evidences of condolence expressed by Congress and yourself, I remain, very respectfully, sir, your most obedient, humble servant,

"MARTHA WASHINGTON."

The president transmitted her letter to Congress, accompanied by the following message:—

"Gentlemen of the Senate, and Gentlemen of the House of Representatives:

"In compliance with the request in one of the resolutions of Congress on the twenty-third of December last, I transmitted a copy of those resolutions, by my secretary, Mr. Shaw, to Mrs. Washington, assuring her of the profound respect Congress will ever bear to her person and character; of their condolence in the late afflicting dispensation of Providence; and entreating her assent to the interment of the remains of General George Washington in the manner expressed in the first resolution. As the sentiments of that virtuous lady, not less beloved by this nation than she is at present greatly afflicted, can never be so well expressed as in her own words, I transmit to Congress her original letter.

"It would be an attempt of too much delicacy to make any comments upon it; but there can be no doubt that the nation at large, as well as all the branches of the government, will be highly gratified by any arrangement which may diminish the sacrifices she makes of her individual feelings.

"JOHN ADAMS.

"UNITED STATES, January 6, 1800."

The proposed monument has not been erected. An unsuccessful effort was made, in 1832, to have the remains of the illustrious dead removed to the federal capital, and placed beneath such monument. Now that the home and tomb of Washington have, through the efforts of the women of the United States, become the property of the nation, every American should rejoice that his dust will ever remain to consecrate them.

[147] The following is a copy of General Lee's oration:—

"In obedience to your will, I rise, your humble organ, with the hope of executing a part of the system of public mourning which you have been pleased to adopt, commemorative of the death of the most illustrious and most beloved personage this country has ever produced; and which, while it transmits to posterity your sense of the awful event, faintly represents your knowledge of the consummate excellence you so cordially honor.

"Desperate, indeed, is any attempt on earth to meet correspondently this dispensation of Heaven; for while, with pious resignation, we submit to the will of an all-gracious Providence, we can never cease lamenting, in our finite view of Omnipotent Wisdom, the heart-rending privation for which our nation weeps. When the civilized world shakes to its centre; when every moment gives birth to strange and momentous changes; when our peaceful quarter of the globe, exempt, as it happily has been, from any share in the slaughter of the human race, may yet be compelled to abandon her pacific policy, and to risk the doleful casualties of war—what limit is there to the extent of our loss? None within the reach of my words to express; none which your feelings will not disavow.

"The founder of our federate republic, our bulwark in war, our guide in peace, is no more! Oh, that this were but questionable! Hope, the comforter of the wretched, would pour into our agonizing hearts its balmy dew; but, alas! there is no hope for us. Our Washington is removed for ever! Possessing the stoutest frame and purest mind, he had passed nearly to his sixty-eighth year, in the enjoyment of high health, when, habituated by his care of us to neglect himself, a slight cold, disregarded, became inconvenient on Friday, oppressive on Saturday, and, defying every medical interposition, before the morning of Sunday, put an end to the best of men. An end did I say? His fame survives, bounded only by the limits of the earth and by the extent of the human mind! He survives in our hearts, in the growing knowledge of our children, in the affections of the good throughout the world; and, when our monuments shall be done away—when nations now existing shall be no more—when even our young and far-spreading empire shall have perished—still will our Washington's glory unfaded shine, and die not, until love of virtue cease on earth, or earth itself sink into chaos.

"How, my fellow-citizens, shall I single to your grateful hearts his pre-eminent worth? Where shall I begin in opening to your view a character throughout sublime? Shall I speak of his warlike achievements, all springing from obedience to his country's will—all directed to his country's good?

"Will you go with me to the banks of the Monongahela, to see your youthful Washington supporting, in the dismal hour of Indian victory, the ill-fated Braddock, and saving, by his judgment and by his valor, the remains of a defeated army, pressed by the conquering savage foe? Or, when oppressed America, nobly resolving to risk her all in defence of her violated rights, he was elevated by the unanimous voice of Congress to the command of her armies, will you follow him to the high grounds of Boston, where, to an undisciplined, courageous, and virtuous yeomanry, his presence gave the stability of system, and infused the invincibility of love of country? Or shall I carry you to the painful scenes of Long Island, York island, and New Jersey, when, combatting superior and gallant armies, aided by powerful fleets, and led by chiefs high in the roll of fame, he stood the bulwark of our safety, undismayed by disaster, unchanged by change of fortune? Or will you view him in the precarious fields of Trenton, where deep glooms, unnerving every arm, reigned triumphant through our thinned, worn down, unaided ranks, himself unmoved? Dreadful was the night! It was about this time of winter. The storm raged; the Delaware, rolling furiously with floating ice, forbade the approach of man. Washington, self-collected, viewed the tremendous scene; his country called. Unappalled by surrounding dangers, he passed to the hostile shore; he fought—he conquered! The morning sun cheered the American world. Our country rose on the event; and her dauntless chief, pursuing his blow, completed on the lawns of Princeton what his vast soul had conceived on the shores of the Delaware.

"Thence to the strong grounds of Morristown he led his small but gallant band; and through an eventful winter, by the high efforts of his genius, whose matchless force was measurable only by the growth of difficulties, he held in check formidable hostile legions, conducted by a chief experienced in the art of war, and famed for his valor on the ever-memorable heights of Abraham, where fell Wolfe, Montcalm, and, since, our much-lamented Montgomery, all covered with glory. In this fortunate interval, produced by his masterly conduct, our fathers, ourselves, animated by his resistless example, rallied around our country's standard, and continued to follow her beloved chief through the various and trying scenes to which the destinies of our Union led.

"Who is there that has forgotten the vales of Brandywine, the fields of Germantown, or the plains of Monmouth? Everywhere present, wants of every kind obstructing, numerous and valiant armies encountering, himself a host, he assuaged our sufferings, limited our privations, and upheld our tottering republic. Shall I display to you the spread of the fire of his soul, by rehearsing the praises of the hero of Saratoga, and his much-loved compeer of the Carolinas? No; our Washington wears not borrowed glory. To Gates—to Greene—he gave, without reserve, the applause due to their eminent merit; and long may the chiefs of Saratoga and of the Eotaws receive the grateful respect of a grateful people!

"Moving in his own orbit, he imparted heat and light to his most distant satellites; and, combining the physical and moral force of all within his sphere, with irresistible weight he took his course, commiserating folly, disdaining vice, dismaying treason, and invigorating despondency, until the auspicious hour arrived when, united with the intrepid forces of a potent and magnanimous ally, he brought to submission the since conqueror of India; thus finishing his long career of military glory with a lustre corresponding with his great name, and in this, his last act of war, affixing the seal of fate to our nation's birth.

"To the horrid din of war sweet peace succeeded; and our virtuous chief, mindful only of the public good, in a moment tempting personal aggrandizement, hushed the discontents of growing sedition, and, surrendering his power into the hands from which he had received it, converted his sword into a ploughshare—teaching an admiring world that, to be truly great, you must be truly good.

"Were I to stop here, the picture would be incomplete, and the task imposed unfinished. Great as was our Washington in war, and much as did that greatness contribute to produce the American republic, it is not in war alone that his pre-eminence stands conspicuous; his various talents, combining all the capacities of a statesman with those of a soldier, fitted him alike to guide the councils and the armies of our nation. Scarcely had he rested from his martial toils, while his invaluable parental advice was still sounding in our ears, when he who had been our shield and our sword was called forth to act a less splendid but more important part.

"Possessing a clear and penetrating mind, a strong and sound judgment, calmness and temper for deliberation, with invincible firmness and perseverance in resolutions maturely formed, drawing information from all, acting from himself with incorruptible integrity and unvarying patriotism, his own superiority and the public confidence alike marked him as the man designed by Heaven to lead in the great political as well as military events which have distinguished the era of his life.

"The finger of an overruling Providence pointing at Washington was neither mistaken nor unobserved, when, to realize the vast hopes to which our Revolution had given birth, a change of political system became indispensable.

"How novel, how grand the spectacle—independent states stretched over an immense territory, and known only by common difficulty, clinging to their Union as the rock of their safety, deciding by frank comparison of their relative condition to rear on that rock, under the guidance of reason, a common government, through whose commanding protection liberty and order, with their long train of blessings, should be safe to themselves and the sure inheritance of their posterity!

"This arduous task devolved on citizens selected by the people, from a knowledge of their wisdom, and confidence in their virtue. In this august assembly of sages and of patriots, Washington, of course, was found; and, as if acknowledged to be most wise where all were wise, with one voice he was declared their chief. How well he merited this rare distinction—how faithful were the labors of himself and his compatriots, the work of their hands and our union, strength, and prosperity—the fruits of that work best attest.

"But to have essentially aided in presenting to his country this consummation of her hopes, neither satisfied the claims of his fellow-citizens on his talents, nor those duties which the possession of those talents imposed. Heaven had not infused into his mind such an uncommon share of its ethereal spirit to remain unemployed, nor bestowed on him his genius unaccompanied by the corresponding duty of devoting it to the common good. To have framed a constitution, was showing only, without realizing, the general happiness. This great work remained to be done; and America, steadfast in her preference, with one voice summoned her beloved Washington, unpractised as he was in the duties of civil administration, to execute this last act in the completion of the national felicity. Obedient to her call, he assumed the high office with that self-distrust peculiar to his innate modesty, the constant attendant of pre-eminent virtue. What was the burst of joy through our anxious land on this exhilarating event, is known to us all. The aged, the young, the brave, the fair, rivalled each other in demonstrations of their gratitude; and this high-wrought, delightful scene was heightened in its effect by the singular contest between the zeal of the bestowers and the avoidance of the receiver of the honors bestowed. Commencing his administration, what heart is not charmed with the recollection of the pure and wise principles announced by himself as the basis of his political life? He best understood the indissoluble union between virtue and happiness, between duty and advantage, between the genuine maxims of an honest and magnanimous policy and the solid rewards of public prosperity and individual felicity. Watching with an equal and comprehensive eye over this great assemblage of communities and interests, he laid the foundations of our national policy in the unerring, immutable principles of morality, based on religion; exemplifying the pre-eminence of free government by all the attributes which win the affections of its citizens or command the respect of the world.

"'O fortunatos dimium sua sibona norint!'

"Leading through the complicated difficulties produced by previous obligations and conflicting interests, seconded by succeeding houses of Congress, enlightened and patriotic, he surmounted all original obstructions, and brightened the path of our national felicity.

"The presidential term expiring, his solicitude to exchange exaltation for humility returned with a force increased with increase of age; and he had prepared his farewell address to his countrymen, proclaiming his intention, when the united interposition of all around him, enforced by the eventful prospects of the epoch, produced a further sacrifice of inclination to duty. The election of president followed, and Washington, by the unanimous vote of the nation, was called to resume the chief magistracy. What a wonderful fixture of confidence! Which attracts most our admiration—a people so correct, or a citizen combining an assemblage of talents forbidding rivalry, and stifling even envy itself! Such a nation deserves to be happy; such a chief must be for ever revered.

"War, long menaced by the Indian tribes, now broke out; and the terrible conflict, deluging Europe with blood, began to shed its baneful influence over our happy land. To the first, outstretching his invincible arm, under the orders of the gallant Wayne, the American eagle soared triumphant through distant forests. Peace followed victory, and the melioration of the condition of the enemy followed peace. Godlike virtue, which uplifts even the subdued savage!

"To the second he opposed himself. New and delicate was the conjuncture, and great was the stake. Soon did his penetrating mind discern and seize the only course continuing to us all the blessings enjoyed. He issued his proclamation of neutrality. This index to his whole subsequent conduct was sanctioned by the approbation of both houses of Congress, and by the approving voice of the people.

"To this sublime policy he invariably adhered, unmoved by foreign intrusion, unshaken by domestic turbulence.

"'Justum et tenacem propositi virum, Non civium ardor prava jubentium, Non vultus instantis tyranni Mente quatit solida.'

"Maintaining his pacific system at the expense of no duty, America, faithful to herself and unstained in her honor, continued to enjoy the delights of peace, while afflicted Europe mourns in every quarter under the accumulated miseries of an unexampled war—miseries in which our happy country must have shared had not our pre-eminent Washington been as firm in council as he was brave in the field.

"Pursuing steadfastly his course, he held safe the public happiness, preventing foreign war and quelling internal disorder, till the revolving period of a third election approached, when he executed his interrupted but inextinguishable desire of returning to the humble walks of private life.

"The promulgation of his fixed resolution stopped the anxious wishes of an affectionate people from adding a third unanimous testimonial of their unabated confidence in the man so long enthroned in their hearts. When, before, was affection like this exhibited on earth? Turn over the records of Greece—review the annals of mighty Rome—examine the volumes of modern Europe—you search in vain. America and her Washington only affords the dignified exemplification.

"The illustrious personage, called by the national voice in succession to the arduous office of guiding a free people, had no difficulties to encounter. The amicable effort of settling our difficulties with France, begun by Washington and pursued by his successor in virtue as in station, proving abortive, America took measures of self-defence. No sooner was the public mind roused by a prospect of danger, than every eye was turned to the friend of all, though secluded from public view and gray in public service. The virtuous veteran, following his plough, received the unexpected summons with mingled emotions of indignation at the unmerited ill-treatment of his country, and of a determination once more to risk his all in her defence.

"The annunciation of these feelings, in his affecting letter to the president, accepting the command of the army, concludes his official conduct.

"First in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen, he was second to none in the humble and endearing scenes of private life; uniform, dignified, and commanding, his example was as edifying to all around him as were the effects of that example lasting.

"To his equals, he was condescending; to his inferiors, kind; and to the dear object of his affections, exemplarily tender. Correct throughout, Vice shuddered in his presence, and Virtue always felt his fostering hand. The purity of his private character gave effulgence to his public virtues.

"His last scene comported with the whole tenor of his life. Although in extreme pain, not a sigh, not a groan, escaped him; and with undisturbed serenity he closed his well-spent life. Such was the man America has lost; such was the man for whom our nation mourns.

"Methinks I see his august image, and hear falling from his venerable lips these deep-sinking words:—

"'Cease, sons of America, lamenting our separation. Go on and confirm by your wisdom the fruits of our joint councils, joint efforts, and common dangers; reverence religion; diffuse knowledge throughout your lands; patronize the arts and sciences; let Liberty and Order be inseparable companions. Control party spirit, the bane of free government; observe good faith to, and cultivate peace with, all nations; shut up every avenue to foreign influence; contract rather than extend national connections; rely on yourselves only; be Americans in thought, word, and deed. Thus will you give immortality to that Union which was the constant object of my terrestrial labors; thus will you preserve undisturbed to the latest posterity the felicity of a people to me most dear; and thus will you supply (if my happiness is now aught to you) the only vacancy in the round of pure bliss high Heaven bestows.'"

[148] May, 1860. The following are the names and present ages of the survivors: Samuel Breck, eighty-nine; S. Palmer, eighty; S. F. Smith, eighty; Charles N. Bancker, eighty-four; Quentin Campbell, eighty-four; and John F. Watson, the annalist of Philadelphia and New York, eighty-one.

[149] "France," said Fontanes, "unbiassed by those narrow prejudices which exist between nations, and admiring virtue wherever it be found, decrees this tribute of respect to the manes of Washington. At this moment she contributes to the discharge of a debt due by two nations. No government, whatever form it bears, or whatever opinions it holds, can refuse its respect to this great Father of Liberty. The people who so lately stigmatized Washington as a rebel, regard even the enfranchisement of America as one of those events consecrated by history and by past ages. Such is the veneration excited by great characters. The American Revolution, the contemporary of our own, is fixed for ever. WASHINGTON began it with energy, and finished it with moderation. He knew how to maintain it, pursuing always the prosperity of his country; and his aim alone will justify, at the tribunal of the Most High, enterprises so extraordinary.

"To pronounce the eulogy of the hero of America, requires the sublimest eloquence of the first of orators. I reflect, with sentiments of admiration, that this Temple, ornamented with the trophies of valor, was raised up in an age of genius—an age which produced as many great writers as illustrious commanders. Then, the memory of heroes was intrusted to orators whose genius gave immortality. Now, military glory shines with lustre, and in every country the glory of the fine arts is shrouded in darkness. My voice is too feeble to be heard on an occasion so solemn and momentous, and so new to me. But as that voice is pure—as it has never flattered any species of tyranny—it has never been rendered unworthy of celebrating heroism and virtue."

"Nevertheless, these funeral and military honors will speak to all hearts. It needs not the aid of speech, to raise strong and indescribable emotions. The mourning which the First Consul orders for WASHINGTON, declares to France that Washington's example is not lost. It is less for the illustrious general, than for the benefactor and friend of a great people, that the crape of mourning now covers our banners and the uniform of our warriors. Neither do we prepare that unmeaning pomp, so contrary to policy and humanity, in which insult is offered to misfortune, contempt to venerable ruins, and calumny to the tomb. Every exalted idea, every useful truth, is seen in this assembly. I speak, before warriors, the honorable praise of a warrior, firm in adversity, modest in victory, and magnanimous in every stage of fortune.

"Before the ministers of the French republic I speak the praises of a man whom ambition never swayed and whose every care tended to the welfare of his country; a man who, unlike others that have changed empires, lived in peace in his native land; and in that land which he had freed, and in which he had held the highest rank, died as a simple individual.

"General WASHINGTON offers examples not less worthy of imitation. Amid all the disorders of camps, amid all the excesses inseparable from a civil war, humanity took refuge in his tent, and was never repulsed. In triumph and in defeat, he was always as tranquil as wisdom, as simple as virtue. The finer feelings of the heart never abandoned him, even in those moments when his own interest would seem to justify a recurrence to the laws of vengeance....

"It is these extraordinary men, who appear at intervals on this vast scene, with characters commanding and illustrious. An unknown and superior cause sends them when it is fit, to lay the foundations of new or to build up the ruins of old empires. It is in vain that these men step aside or mingle with the crowd. Destiny leads them on; they are carried from obstacle to obstacle, from triumph to triumph, until they arrive at the summit of power. Something supernatural animates all their thoughts. An irresistible movement is given to all their enterprises. The multitude still seek them among themselves, and find them not; they raise their eyes, and see in a sphere, dazzling with light and glory, those whom their ignorance and envy would call rash.

"WASHINGTON had not those high and commanding traits which strike every mind. He displayed more order and justice, than force and elevation, in his ideas. He possessed, above all, in an eminent degree, that quality which some call vulgar, but which very few possess—that quality not less useful to the government of states than to the conduct of life, and which gives more tranquillity than emotion to the soul, and more happiness than glory to those who possess it. It is of good sense that I speak. Audacity destroys, genius elevates, good sense preserves and perfects. Genius is charged with the glory of empires; but good sense alone assures their safety and repose. His end portrayed all the domestic virtues, as his life had been an illustrious example in war and politics. America regarded with respect the mansion which contained her defender. From that retreat, where so much glory dwelt, sage counsels issued, which had no less weight than in the days of his power. But death has swept all away; he died in the midst of those occupations which sweeten domestic life, and support us in the infirmities of age.

"From every part of that America he delivered, the cry of grief is heard. It belonged to France to echo back the mournful sound; it ought to vibrate on every generous heart. The shade of WASHINGTON, on entering beneath this lofty dome, will find a Turenne, a Catinat, a Conde, all of whom have fixed their habitation here. If these illustrious warriors had not served in the same cause during life, yet the fame of all will unite them in death. Opinions, subject to the caprices of the world and to time—opinions, weak and changeable, the inheritance of humanity—vanish on the tomb; but glory and virtue live for ever. When departed from this stage, the great men of every age and of every place become in some measure compatriots and contemporaries. They form but one family in the memory of the living; and their examples are renewed in every successive age. Thus, within these walls, the valor of WASHINGTON attracts the regard of CONDE; his modesty is applauded by TURENNE; his philosophy draws him to the bosom of CATINAT. A people who admit the ancient dogma of a transmigration of souls will often confess that the soul of Catinat dwells in the bosom of Washington.

"The voice of Republicanism, which resounds from every part of these walls, ought to please, above all, the defenders of America. Can they not love these soldiers who, after their example, repelled the enemies of their country? We approach with pleasure those veterans, whose trophies add lustre to these walls, and some of whom have gained laurels with Washington in the wilds of Carolina and Virginia.

"But there is something more due to the memory of WASHINGTON: it is the union of France and America.[150] It is the happiness of each; it is peace between the two nations. It now seems to me that WASHINGTON calls to all France from the very summit of this dome: 'Magnanimous people! you, who know so well how to honor glory, I have conquered for independence; the happiness of my country was the reward of that victory. Imitate not the first half of my life; it is the second that recommends me to posterity.'

"Yes, thy counsels shall be heard, O WASHINGTON! O warrior! O legislator! O citizen without reproach! He who, while yet young, rivals thee in battles, shall, like thee, with his triumphant hands, heal the wounds of his country. Even now we have his disposition, his character, for the pledge; and his warlike genius, unfortunately necessary, shall soon lead sweet Peace into this temple of War. Then the sentiment of universal joy shall obliterate the remembrance of oppression and injustice. Already the oppressed forget their ills, in looking to the future. The acclamations of every age will be offered to the hero who gives happiness to France, and seeks to restore it to a contending world."

[150] The new American envoys were then in Paris, on a mission of reconciliation and brotherhood.



CHAPTER XLIII.

WASHINGTON'S CHARACTER.

Our chronicle of the career of Washington is finished. We have traced the details of that career, from his birth through all the vicissitudes of an eventful life of more than sixty years, with conscientious fidelity to truth and justice.

We have seen him first a generous, truthful boy; and then a handsome, robust, manly youth, perfectly self-reliant, bearing the implements of a professional surveyor's vocation through the forests of Virginia, and gaining that knowledge of woodcraft which afterward proved of essential service to him.

We have seen him, at the age of twenty-one years, traversing a portion of the same wilderness and beyond, bearing the commission and responsibilities of a military officer, and intrusted with service the most delicate yet most arduous, requiring for its performance the combined abilities of pioneer, soldier, and diplomat. We have seen him returning, crowned with success, and receiving the applause of his countrymen.

We have seen him, a little later, leading a military expedition into that wilderness, to roll back a wave of French encroachment supported by deluded savages, and exhibiting the wisdom of a veteran in his marches, conflicts, and retreats. And, later still, we have seen him wisely advising a British general how to fight, but to be answered with contempt. We have seen him left to act upon the principles involved in that advice, when his commander was laid low, and permitted to save, by most brave and judicious management, the remnant of the broken army.

We have seen him in other campaigns of that old French and Indian War, always judicious, brave, and successful, and always evidently God-protected; and we have seen that devotion to his country rewarded by the love and admiration of his fellow-men, and the affections and fortune of one of the loveliest of Virginia's daughters who became his wife, and was his companion, solace, and joy, during the remaining forty years of his life.

We have seen him a chosen member of the Virginia house of burgesses year after year, always remarkable for his wisdom, his patriotism, and his prudence; always conservative, yet never lagging when a crisis demanded action—one of the most decisive when reconciliation with the mother-country was evidently impossible, and a resort to arms absolutely necessary.

We have seen him at the kindling of that war, a sage and influential member of the grand national council; and soon afterward called by that body to the supreme leadership of the armies formed to fight for liberty and independence. We have seen him so devoted to the high and holy trust committed to his case, that for more than six years he never crossed the threshold of his delightful mansion on the Potomac, where he had enjoyed many long years of connubial happiness, the pleasures of social intercourse, and the delights of rural pursuits.

We have seen him at the close of a successful seven years' war for independence, venerated and almost worshipped by a grateful people, refusing a proffered crown, resigning his commission into the hands of the power that gave it, and retiring to private life at his own dear Mount Vernon. And we have seen him in that delightful retreat, entertaining friends and strangers with the most generous hospitality, and receiving the homage of the great and the good of all lands.

We have seen him called from that retirement to take the lead in the formation of a new code of organic laws for the government of the infant nation in whose nativity he had performed the most conspicuous part; and then, by the spontaneous voice of the whole people, summoned to the helm of state under that more perfect form of government which he and his compatriots had devised. We have seen him as the chief magistrate of the republic, firm almost beyond precedent in his loyalty to the best interests of his country, unmoved by the appeals of sympathy, unseduced by the wiles of politicians, unappalled by the shocks of faction and the surges of popular commotions. We have seen him leave the cares and honors of office, even while the nation was imploring him to remain, and retiring to private life with the blessed assurance of repose and a serene old age. We have seen him leaving that repose at the call of the people, and again cheerfully preparing to serve his country, as the leader of its armies, to repel hostile invasion. And we have seen him go down into the grave, without any of the infirmities of old age—with step elastic, eye undimmed, countenance fresh and youthful in appearance, and intellect unclouded, until the last—leaving to his countrymen the image of an almost perfect man, in all the beautiful proportions of mental, moral, and physical vigor, while the world lamented, and eulogy found him one of its noblest and most suggestive themes.

It remains for us now to consider his character and his habits of life in the social relations. Historians, biographers, essayists, and personal friends, have drawn pictures of that wonderful man (whose proportions, in comparison of others, grow more colossal every day) with pencils somewhat partial, perhaps, as is natural, but graphic and generally truthful. It is not for us, at this remote distance from the period and theatre of his life, to attempt to delineate him with any expectation of improving upon these originals. We will be content to group some of their pictures, in whole and in part, in such a way, that all knowledge essential to a just appreciation of the whole character of WASHINGTON may be obtained by the reader who may have followed us in the long narrative of his public life, recorded on the pages of these volumes. In making up the group, we shall borrow freely from the limners, beginning with the graphic outline of one of his most devoted and well-appreciated personal friends, and his first biographer, Chief-Justice Marshall.

"His manners were rather reserved than free, though they partook nothing of that dryness and sternness which accompany reserve when carried to an extreme; and on all proper occasions he could relax sufficiently to show how highly he was gratified by the charms of conversation and the pleasures of society. His person and whole deportment exhibited an unaffected and indescribable dignity, unmingled with haughtiness, of which all who approached him were sensible; and the attachment of those who possessed his friendship and enjoyed his intimacy was ardent, but always respectful. His temper was humane, benevolent, and conciliatory; but there was a quickness in his sensibility to anything apparently offensive, which experience had taught him to watch and to correct.

"In the management of his private affairs he exhibited an exact yet liberal economy. His funds were not prodigally wasted on capricious and ill-examined schemes, nor refused to beneficial though costly improvements. They remained, therefore, competent to that expensive establishment which his reputation, added to a hospitable temper, had in some measure imposed upon him, and to those donations which real distress has a right to claim from opulence. He made no pretensions to that vivacity which fascinates, or to that wit which dazzles, and frequently imposes on the understanding. More solid than brilliant, judgment rather than genius constituted the most prominent feature of his character. Without making ostentatious professions of religion, he was a sincere believer in the Christian faith, and a truly devout man.

"As a military man, he was brave, enterprising, and cautious. That malignity which has sought to strip him of all the higher qualities of a general, has conceded to him personal courage, and a firmness of resolution which neither dangers nor difficulty could shake. But candor will allow him other great and valuable endowments. If his military course does not abound with splendid achievements, it exhibits a series of judicious measures adapted to circumstances, which probably saved his country.

"Placed, without having studied the theory or been taught in the school of experience the practice of war, at the head of an undisciplined, ill-organized multitude, which was impatient of the restraints and unacquainted with the ordinary duties of the camp, without the aid of officers possessing those lights which the commander-in-chief was yet to acquire, it would have been a miracle indeed had his conduct been absolutely faultless. But, possessing an energetic and distinguishing mind, on which the lessons of experience were never lost, his errors, if he committed any, were quickly repaired; and those measures which the state of things rendered most advisable, were seldom if ever neglected. Inferior to his adversary in the number, the equipment, and in the discipline of his troops, it is evidence of real merit that no great and decisive advantages were ever obtained over him; and that the opportunity to strike an important blow never passed away unused. He has been termed the American Fabius; but those who compare his actions with his means, will perceive at least as much of Marcellus as Fabius in his character. He could not have been more enterprising, without endangering the cause he defended; nor have put more to hazard, without incurring justly the imputation of rashness. Not relying upon those chances which sometimes give a favorable issue to attempts apparently desperate, his conduct was regulated by calculations made upon the capacities of his army and the real situation of his country.

"In his civil administration, as in his military career, ample and repeated proofs were exhibited of that practical good sense, of that sound judgment, which is perhaps the most rare and is certainly the most valuable quality of the human mind. Devoting himself to the duties of his station, and pursuing no object distinct from the public good, he was accustomed to contemplate at a distance those critical situations in which the United States might probably be placed; and to digest, before the occasion required action, the line of conduct which it would be proper to observe. Taught to distrust first impressions, he sought to acquire all the information which was attainable, and to hear, without prejudice, all the reasons which could be urged for or against a particular measure. His own judgment was suspended until it became necessary to determine; and his decisions, thus maturely made, were seldom if ever to be shaken. His conduct therefore was systematic, and the great objects of his administration were steadily pursued.

"Respecting, as the first magistrate of a free government must ever do, the real and deliberate sentiments of the people, their gusts of passion passed over without ruffling the smooth surface of his mind. Trusting to the reflecting good sense of the nation for approbation and support, he had the magnanimity to pursue its real interests, in opposition to its temporary prejudices; and, though far from being regardless of popular favor, he could never stoop to retain, by deserving to lose it. In more instances than one, we find him committing his whole popularity to hazard, and pursuing steadily, in opposition to a torrent that would have overwhelmed a man of ordinary firmness, that course which had been dictated by a sense of duty.

"In speculation, he was a real republican, devoted to the constitution of his country, and to that system of equal political rights on which it is founded. But between a balanced republic and a democracy the difference is like that between order and chaos. Real liberty, he thought, was to be preserved only by preserving the authority of the laws and maintaining the energy of government. Scarcely did society present two characters which, in his opinion, less resembled each other, than a patriot and a demagogue.

"No man has ever appeared upon the theatre of public action whose integrity was more incorruptible, or whose principles were more perfectly free from the contaminations of those selfish and unworthy passions which find their nourishment in the conflicts of party. Having no views which required concealment, his real and avowed motives were the same; and his whole correspondence does not furnish a single case from which even an enemy would infer that he was capable, under any circumstances, of stooping to the employment of duplicity. No truth can be uttered with more confidence than that his ends were always upright, and his means always pure. He exhibits the rare example of a politician to whom wiles were absolutely unknown, and whose professions to foreign governments and to his own countrymen were always sincere. In him was fully exemplified the real distinction which for ever exists between wisdom and cunning, and the importance as well as truth of the maxim, 'Honesty is the best policy.'

"If Washington possessed ambition, that passion was, in his bosom, so regulated by principles or controlled by circumstances, that it was neither vicious nor turbulent. Intrigue was never employed as the means of its gratification, nor was personal aggrandizement its object. The various high and important stations to which he was called by the public voice, were unsought by himself; and, in consenting to fill them, he seems rather to have yielded to a general conviction that the interests of his country would be thereby promoted, than to an avidity for power.

"Neither the extraordinary partiality of the American people, the extravagant praises which were bestowed upon him, nor the inveterate opposition and malignant calumnies which he encountered, had any visible influence upon his conduct. The cause is to be looked for in the texture of his mind. To him, that innate and unassuming modesty which adulation would have offended, which the voluntary plaudits of millions could not betray into indiscretion, and which never intruded upon others his claims to superior consideration, was happily blended with a high and correct sense of personal dignity, and with a just consciousness of that respect which is due to station. Without exertion, he could maintain the happy medium between that arrogance which wounds and that facility which allows the office to be degraded in the person who fills it.

"It is impossible to contemplate the great events which have occurred in the United States under the auspices of Washington, without ascribing them, in some measure, to him. If we ask the causes of the prosperous issue of a war, against the successful termination of which there were so many probabilities; of the good which was produced, and the ill which was avoided, during an administration fated to contend with the strongest prejudices that a combination of circumstances and of passions could produce; of the favor of the great mass of his fellow-citizens, and of the confidence which, to the last moment of his life, they reposed in him—the answer, so far as these causes may be found in his character, will furnish a lesson well meriting the attention of those who are candidates for political fame.

"Endowed by nature with a sound judgment and an accurate, discriminating mind, he feared not that laborious attention which made him perfectly master of those subjects, in all their relations, on which he was to decide. And this essential quality was guided by an unvarying sense of moral right, which would tolerate the employment only of those means that would bear the most rigid examination; by a fairness of intention which neither sought nor required disguise; and by a purity of virtue which was not only untainted, but unsuspected.

"Washington's character, so perfect in its harmonious combination of the best and greatest qualities that constitute the true man, has endured the test of criticism for three quarters of a century; and every time it passes through the crucible of severe analysis, in the hands of masters, it appears more perfect than before the ordeal. To this task the best minds of Europe have brought their keenest powers of research, and the conclusion is always the same."

"The bold and successful passages of the Delaware, and the surprise of the Hessians," says one of our most accomplished essayists, "awaked in Frederick of Prussia the sympathy and high appreciation which he manifested by the gift of a sword, with an inscription exclusively in praise of Washington's generalship. The moderation of his nature, the heroic balance of his soul, whereby elation was kept in abeyance in the hour of success, not less nobly than despair in the day of misfortune, attracted the French philosopher, habituated as he was, in the history of his own nation, to the association of warlike and civic fame with the extremes of zeal and indifference, of violence and caprice. In his estimation, the good sense and moral consistency of Washington and his compatriots naturally offered the most remarkable problem. Accordingly, Guizot bears witness chiefly to this unprecedented union of comprehensive designs and prudential habits, of aspiration and patience, in the character of Washington; and, doubtless through the contrast with the restless ambition which marks the lives of his own illustrious countrymen, is mainly struck with the fact that, 'while capable of rising to the level of the highest destiny, he might have lived in ignorance of his real power, without suffering from it.' The Italian patriot, obliged to vent his love of country in terse dramatic colloquies, and through the lips of dead heroes, is thrilled with the grand possibilities of action, through the realization of his sentiments by achievement, opened to Washington. Even the poor Indians, so often cajoled out of their rights as to be thoroughly incredulous of good faith among the pale-faces, made him an exception to their rooted distrust. 'The white men are bad,' said an aboriginal chief, in his council-speech, 'and can not dwell in the region of the Great Spirit, except Washington.' And Lord Brougham, in a series of analytical biographies of the renowned men of the last and present century, which indicate a deep study and philosophical estimate of human greatness, closes his sketch of Washington by the emphatic assertion that the test of the progress of mankind will be their appreciation of his character."[151]

At his installation as chancellor of the University of Edinburgh, in the spring of 1860, Lord Brougham, in his address, after speaking of Napoleon and Wellington, said: "But in Washington we may contemplate every excellence, military and civil, applied to the service of his country and of mankind—a triumphant warrior, unshaken in confidence when the most sanguine had a right to despair; a successful ruler in all the difficulties of a course wholly untried—directing the formation of a new government for a great people, the first time so vast an experiment had ever been tried by man; voluntarily and unostentatiously retiring from supreme power with the veneration of all parties, of all nations, of all mankind, that the rights of men may be conserved, and that his example might never be appealed to by vulgar tyrants. It will be the duty of the historian and the sage, in all ages, to omit no occasion of commemorating this illustrious man; and until time shall be no more, will a test of the progress which our race has made in wisdom and in virtue be derived from the veneration paid to the immortal name of WASHINGTON."

One of the most beautiful of the many eulogies of the Great Patriot was written, soon after his death, by an unknown hand (supposed to be that of an English gentleman), on the back of a cabinet profile likeness of Washington, executed in crayon, by Sharpless. It is in the form of a monumental inscription. The following is a copy of it:—

WASHINGTON, The DEFENDER OF HIS COUNTRY, The FOUNDER OF LIBERTY, The FRIEND OF MAN. HISTORY and TRADITION are explored in vain For a Parallel to his Character. In the Annals of MODERN GREATNESS He stands alone, And the noblest Names of Antiquity Lose their Lustre in his Presence.

Born the Benefactor of Mankind, He was signally Endowed with all the Qualities Appropriate to his Illustrious Career. Nature made him Great, And, Heaven-directed, He made himself Virtuous.

Called by his Country to the Defence of her Soil, And the Vindication of her Liberties, He led to the Field Her Patriot Armies; And, displaying in rapid and brilliant succession The United Powers Of Consummate Prudence and Heroic Valor, He triumphed in Arms Over the most powerful Nation of Modern Europe; His Sword giving Freedom to America, His Counsels breathing Peace to the World.