* * * * *

WASHINGTON'S INAUGURATION[12]

BY EDWARD EVERETT HALE

On the fourth of March, 1789, Elbridge Gerry, who had been chosen to the Senate of the United States, wrote thus from New York to John Adams:

My Dear Friend: I find, on inquiry, that you are elected Vice-President, having three or four times the number of votes of any other candidate. Maryland threw away their votes on Colonel Harrison, and South Carolina on Governor Rutledge, being, with some other states which were not unanimous for you, apprehensive that this was a necessary step to prevent your election to the chair. On this point they were mistaken, for the President, as I am informed from pretty good authority, has a unanimous vote. It is the universal wish of all that I have conferred with, and indeed their expectation, that both General Washington and yourself will accept; and should either refuse, it will have a very disagreeable effect. The members present met to-day in the City Hall, there being about eleven Senators and thirteen Representatives, and not constituting a quorum in either house, they adjourned till to-morrow.

Mrs. Gerry and the ladies join me in sincere regards to yourself, your lady, Colonel and Mrs. Smith, and be assured I remain, etc.

E. GERRY.

So slow was the movement of news in those days, and so doubtful, even after the election, were all men as to its results, Adams would not start from Braintree, his home, till he knew he was elected, nor Washington from Mt. Vernon. Charles Thompson, the Secretary of the old Congress, arrived at Mt. Vernon on the fourteenth of April and communicated to Washington the news of his election. No quorum of the House of Representatives had been formed until the first of April, nor of the Senate until the sixth. These bodies then counted the electoral vote, with the result predicted by Gerry in his letter written two days before.

Washington waited a day before starting to the seat of Government. On the sixteenth of April he started for New York. He writes in his diary:

About ten o'clock I bade adieu to Mount Vernon, to private life and to domestic felicity; and with a mind oppressed with more anxious and painful sensations than I have words to express, set out for New York in company with Mr. Thompson and Colonel Humphries, with the best dispositions to render service to my country in obedience to its call, but with less hope of answering its expectations.

The journey began with a public dinner at Alexandria. Said the gentlemen of Alexandria in their address to him:

Farewell!... Go!... and make a grateful people happy, a people who will be doubly grateful when they contemplate this recent sacrifice for their interest.

And Washington in his reply said:

At my age, and in my circumstances, what prospects or advantages could I propose to myself, for embarking again on the tempestuous and uncertain ocean of public life?

The journey went on with similar interruptions. The rule so often laid down by the Virginians afterward that that is the best government which governs least, was certainly well kept until the thirteenth of April. To this hour the adventurous cyclist, stopping at some wayside inn to refresh himself, may find upon the wall the picture of the maidens and mothers of Trenton in New Jersey. Here Washington met a deputation sent to him by Congress. A triumphal arch had been erected, and a row of young girls dressed in white, a second row of ladies, and a third of their mothers, awaited him. As he passed, the girls scattered flowers, and sang the verses which Judge Marshall has preserved:

Welcome, mighty chief, once more Welcome to this grateful shore; Now no mercenary foe Aims again the fatal blow— Aims at thee the fatal blow.

Virgins fair and matrons grave, These thy conquering arm did save. Build for thee triumphal bowers, Strew, ye fair, his way with flowers— Strew your Hero's way with flowers.

His progress through New Jersey was everywhere accompanied by similar festivities—"festive illuminations, the ringing of bells, and the booming of cannon." He had written to Governor Clinton, that he hoped he might enter New York without ceremony; but this was hardly to be expected. A committee of both houses met him at Elizabethtown; he embarked in a splendid barge manned by thirteen pilots, masters of vessels, and commanded by Commodore Nicholson; other barges and boats fell in in the wake; and a nautical procession swept up the Bay of New York. On board two vessels were parties of ladies and gentlemen, who sang odes as Washington appeared. The ships in the harbor were dressed in colors and fired salutes as he passed. On landing at Murray's Wharf he was welcomed by Governor Clinton and General Knox. It is of the landing at this point that the anecdote is told that an officer asked Washington's orders, announcing himself as commanding his guard. Washington, with his ready presence of mind, begged him to follow any directions he had already received in the arrangements, but said that for the future the affection of his fellow-citizens was all the guard that he required.

At the end of the day, in his diary, the sad man says:

The acclamations of the people filled my mind with sensations as painful as pleasing.

It was some days before the formal inauguration. The two houses of Congress did not know by what title they should address him, and a committee had been appointed to discuss this subject. It was finally agreed that the address should be simply, "To the President of the United States"—a form which has remained to the present day.

The inauguration finally took place on the thirtieth of April.

On the thirtieth at last all things were ready, and the inauguration went forward. The place was at what they then called Federal Hall, in New York, and Chancellor Livingstone administered the oath:

I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully administer and execute the office of President of the United States, and will, to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States.

A salute of thirteen guns followed, amid the cheers of thousands of people. Washington then delivered his inaugural speech to both houses in the Senate Chamber. After this ceremony he walked to St. Paul's Church, where the Bishop of New York read prayers. Maclay, who was a Senator in the first Congress, says:

He was agitated and embarrassed more than he ever was by the leveled cannon or pointed musket. He trembled and several times could scarce make out to read his speech, though it must be supposed he had often read it before.

Fisher Ames says:

He addressed the two houses in the Senate Chamber. It was a very touching scene, and quite of a solemn kind. His aspect, grave almost to sadness, his modesty, actually shaking, his voice deep, a little tremulous, and so low as to call for close attention.

John Adams had taken his place as President of the Senate two days before. As he did not always in after life speak any too cordially of Washington, it is worth noting that at this critical period he said that he congratulated the people of America on "the prospect of an executive authority in the hands of one whose portrait I shall not pretend to draw.... Were I blessed with powers to do justice to his character, it would be impossible to increase the confidence, or affection of his country, or make the smallest addition to his glory. This can only be effected by a discharge of the present exalted trust on the same principles, with the same abilities and virtues which have uniformly appeared in all his former conduct, public or private. May I nevertheless be indulged to inquire, if we look over the catalogue of the first magistrates of nations, whether they have been denominated presidents or consuls, kings or princes, where shall we find one whose commanding talents and virtues, whose overruling good fortune, have so completely united all hearts and voices in his favor? who enjoyed the esteem and admiration of foreign nations and fellow-citizens with equal unanimity? Qualities so uncommon are no common blessings to the country that possesses them. By these great qualities and their benign effects has Providence marked out the head of this Nation, with a hand so distinctly visible as to have been seen by all men, and mistaken by none."

Whether on this occasion, there were too much ceremony was a question discussed at the time, in connection with the heated discussion as to the etiquette of the new Administration. There is a correspondence between Washington and an old friend, Stuart, of Virginia, who had told him that the people of that State accused him of "regal manners."

Washington's reply, with his usual good sense, answers a good many questions which are bruited to-day. Dr. Albert Shaw, in the Review of Reviews, once brought some of these questions forward. "How far is it right for the people of a free state to kill their magistrates by inches?" This is the question reduced to its simplest terms. It was generally understood, when the late Governor Greenhalge died in Massachusetts, that his career, invaluable to the people of that State and of the country, had been cut off untimely by a certain etiquette, which obtains in Massachusetts, that whenever there is a public dinner the Governor of the State must be present and make a speech. With reference to a somewhat similar notion, Washington says:

Before the present custom was established I was unable to attend to any business whatever. Gentlemen, consulting their own convenience rather than mine, were calling from the time I rose from breakfast, often before, until I sat down to dinner. To please everybody was impossible. I therefore adopted that line of conduct which combined public advantage with private convenience.

In another place he says:

Had I not adopted the principle of returning no visits, I should have been unable to have attended to any sort of business.

In contrast with the simple ceremonies at which a sensitive democracy took exception, we find now that a great nation considers no honors too profuse for the ceremonies which attend the inauguration of its chief magistrate.

FOOTNOTES:

[12] Reprinted from The Independent.

* * * * *

WASHINGTONIANA

Extracts from the Contemporary Newspapers and other Accounts of the Inauguration of our First President in 1789

From The Massachusetts Sentinel, May 6, 1789:

New York, May 1. Yesterday the great and illustrious Washington, the favorite son of liberty, and deliverer of his country, entered upon the execution of the office of First Magistrate of the United States of America; to which important station he had been unanimously called by the united voice of the people. The ceremony which took place on this occasion was truly grand and pleasing, and every heart seemed anxious to testify the joy it felt on so memorable an event. His Excellency was escorted from his house by a troop of light Dragoons, and the Legion, under the command of Colonel Lewis, attended by a committee of the Senate and House of Representatives, to Federal Hall, where he was formally received by both Houses of Congress, assembled in the Senate Chamber; after which he was conducted to the gallery in front of the hall, accompanied by all the members when the oath prescribed by the Constitution was administered to him by the Chancellor of this State, who then said—

"Long live George Washington,

"President of the United States;" which was answered by an immense concourse of citizens, assembled on the occasion, by the loudest plaudit and acclamation that love and veneration ever inspired. His Excellency then made a speech to both Houses, and then proceeded, attended by Congress, to St. Paul's Church, where Divine Service was performed by the Right Rev. Samuel Provost, after which His Excellency was conducted in form to his own house. In the evening a most magnificent and brilliant display of fireworks was exhibited at the Fort, under the direction of Colonel Beuman. The houses of the French and Spanish Ministers were illuminated in a superb and elegant manner; a number of beautiful transparent paintings were exhibited, which did infinite credit to the parties concerned in the design and execution.

* * * * *

April 30. We have had this day one of those impressive sights which dignify and adorn human nature. At nine o'clock all the churches were opened—and the people, in prodigious numbers, thronged these sacred temples—and, with one voice, put up their prayers to Almighty God for the safety of the President.

At twelve the procession moved to the Federal State House, where in the gallery fronting Broad Street, in the presence of an immense concourse, His Excellency took the oath, the book being placed on a velvet cushion. The Chancellor then proclaimed him President—and in a moment the air trembled with the shouts of the citizens, and the roar of artillery. His Excellency, with that greatness of soul—that dignity and calmness, which are his characteristics—then bowed to his "fellow-citizens"—who again huzzaed.

* * * * *

From "History of the Arts of Design in America," by William Dunlap:

Major L'Enfant was a native of France; he was employed to rebuild after a design of his own the old New York City Hall in Wall Street, fronting Broad Street; making therefrom the Federal Hall of that day (1789). The new building was for the accommodation of Congress; and in the balcony upon which the Senate Chamber opened, the first President of the United States was inaugurated. A ceremony which I witnessed, and which for its simplicity, the persons concerned in it, the effect produced upon my country and the world, in giving stability to the Federal Constitution, by calling Washington to administer its blessings, remains on my mind unrivaled by any scene witnessed, through a long life, either in Europe or America.

* * * * *

From Dunlap's "School History of New York":

In 1789, I saw Washington divested of the garb of war, place his hand on the Bible, and swear to support that Constitution under which I have since lived happily half a century. Between the pillars of the old City Hall, in Wall Street, as altered for the reception of the Federal Congress, in view of thousands who filled Broad Street as far as the eye could extend its view, and every avenue within sight of the building, the man of the people's choice was announced to them, as the first President of the United States of America.

* * * * *

Abstract of account in New York Packet:

New York, May 1, 1789. Yesterday at two o'clock was solemnly inaugurated into office, our Illustrious President.

The ceremony was begun by the following procession from the Federal House to the President's house, viz.:

Troop of Horse Assistants Committee of Representatives Committee of Senate Gentlemen to be admitted in the Senate Chamber Gentlemen in coaches Citizens on foot

On their arrival, the President joined the procession in his carriage and four, and the whole moved through the principal streets to the State House in the following order:

Troop of Horse Infantry Sheriff on horseback Committee of Representatives Committee of Senate President and Assistants (President's Suite) Assistants Gentlemen to be admitted in the Senate Chamber Gentlemen in coaches Citizens on foot

When the van reached the State House, the troops opening their ranks formed an avenue, through which, after alighting, the President, advancing to the door, was conducted to the Senate Chamber, where he was received by both branches of Congress, and by them accompanied to the balcony or outer gallery in front of the State House, which was decorated with a canopy and curtains of red interstreaked with white for the solemn occasion. In this public manner the oath of office required by the Constitution was administered by the Chancellor of this State, and the illustrious Washington thereupon declared by the said Chancellor, PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, amidst the repeated huzzas and acclamations of a numerous and crowded audience.

After the inauguration, the President, returning to the Senate Chamber, delivered a speech to both Houses of Congress.

After this the President, accompanied by both Houses of Congress, proceeded on foot to St. Paul's Church (where divine service was performed by the Right Rev. Dr. Provost, suitable to the immediate occasion) in the following order, viz.:

Troop of Horse Infantry Door Keeper and Messenger of Representatives Clerk Representatives Speaker President and Vice-President President's Suite Senators Secretary Door Keeper and Messenger of the Senate Gentlemen admitted into the Senate Chamber Sheriff Citizens

Constables, marshals, etc., on each side of the Members of Congress at proper distances, from the front of the Representatives to the rear of the Senators.

In the evening fireworks were displayed under the direction of Colonel Bauman.—The brilliancy and excellency of them does honor to the projector.

The houses of their Excellencies the French and Spanish Ambassadors were most elegantly illuminated on this auspicious occasion.

* * * * *

Extract of a letter from a gentleman in New York to his friend in Philadelphia, dated May 1, 1789:

Yesterday the great Patriot Washington took a solemn charge of the liberties of America. The magnificence and splendor of the procession, from his house to the Federal Building, commanded the admiration of every beholder. But above all, the solemnity which appeared while he took the oath of office, was truly affecting. The silent joy which every rank of spectators exhibited in their countenances, bespoke the sincere wishes of their hearts. I could have wished you to have been a spectator.

The fireworks exhibited in the evening were truly brilliant; and the illuminations and transparent paintings of the Spanish and French Ambassadors surpassed even conception itself.

* * * * *

New York, May 2, 1789. We feel satisfied in adding to the account given in yesterday's paper of the inauguration of the President,—that His Excellency on that great day, was dressed in a complete suit of elegant broadcloth of the manufacture of his country.—Pennsylvania Packet, May 6, 1789.

From the Gazette of the United States:

THE PRESIDENT, accompanied by His Excellency the Vice-President, the Speaker of the House of Representatives, and both Houses of Congress, went to St. Paul's Chapel, where divine service was performed by the Right Rev. Dr. Provost, Bishop of the Episcopal Church in this State, and Chaplain to the Senate.

The religious solemnity being ended, the President was escorted to his residence.

* * * * *

Evening Celebration

The transparent paintings exhibited in various parts of the city, on Thursday evening, were equal at least to anything of the kind ever before seen in America.

That displayed before the Fort at the bottom of Broad-way did great honor to its inventors and executors, for the ingenuity of the design, and goodness of the workmanship; it was finely lighted and advantageously situated: The virtues, Fortitude,[13] Justice,[14] and Wisdom[15] were judiciously applied; of the first, all America has had the fullest evidence; and with respect to the two others, who does not entertain the most pleasing anticipations.

His Excellency Don Gardqui's residence next caught the eye—and fixed it in pleasing contemplation: The Tout-en-semble here, formed a most brilliant front; the figures well fancied. The Graces suggested the best ideas; and the pleasing variety of emblems, flowers, shrubbery, arches, &c., and above all the Moving Pictures, that figured in the windows or, as it were, in the background, created by fixing the transparencies between the windows, afforded a new—an animated and enchanting spectacle.

The residence of his Excellency, Count Meustier, was illuminated in a stile of novel elegance; the splendid bordering of lamps round the windows, doors, &c., with the fancy pieces of each window; and above all the large designs in front, the allusions, of which we cannot at present particularly describe, did great honor to the taste and sentiment of the inventor.

The above two instances of attention to honor this great and important occasion, so highly interesting to our "dear country," evince the friendship, the delicacy, and politeness of our illustrious allies.

The portrait of "THE FATHER OF HIS COUNTRY" exhibited in Broad-Street, was extremely well executed, and had a fine effect.

There was an excellent transparency, also shown at the Theatre, and at the corner, near the Fly-Market: In short, emulation and ingenuity were alive; but perhaps were in no instance exhibited to greater advantage than in the display of fireworks, which, from one novelty to another, continued for two hours, to surprise by variety, taste, and brilliancy.

The illumination of the Federal State House was among the most agreeable of the exhibitions of the evening; and the ship Carolina formed a beautiful pyramid of stars: The evening was fine—the company innumerable—everyone appeared to enjoy the scene, and no accident casts the smallest clouds upon the retrospect.

* * * * *

May 1. Yesterday morning The President received the compliments of His Excellency the Vice-President, His Excellency the Governor of this State, the principal Officers of the different Departments; the foreign Ministers; and a great number of other persons of distinction.

We are informed that the President has assigned every Tuesday and Friday, between the hours of two and three, for receiving visits; and that visits of compliment on other days, and particularly on Sundays, will not be agreeable to him.

It seems to be a prevailing opinion that so much of The President's time will be engaged by the various and important business imposed upon him by the Constitution, that he will find himself constrained to omit returning visits, or accepting invitations to Entertainments.

FOOTNOTES:

[13] The President.

[14] The Senate.

[15] The Representatives of the United States.

* * * * *

LESSONS FROM THE WASHINGTON CENTENNIAL

BY GEORGE A. GORDON

Picture to yourselves the joy and expectation of that day which saw the establishment of our Government a century ago. As the patriots of that day in the midst of festivity and joy look back upon famine and nakedness and peril and sword, upon battlefields and garments rolled in blood, as they think of their emergence from the long struggle weary and exhausted, as they recall their precarious existence as a nation under the articles of confederation, as they behold the blessing of God upon their faith and courage and energy, can we not hear those voices, hushed so long ago, speaking to us and assuring us that they that sow in tears shall reap in joy?

We think of the founding of our Government and we recall at this moment the representatives of three generations of statesmen, Washington and Hamilton, Clay and Webster, Lincoln and Sumner. Our attention will be concentrated on the unique and commanding figure of the first President. Through the renewed study and statement of his public career many lessons, familiar indeed, but of fresh importance, will be read into the hearts of our country.

We cannot doubt in the case of Washington the fact of a divine call. Joshua was not more evidently called to command the armies of Israel than Washington to lead the forces of the united colonies. David was not more signally summoned from the sheep-folds to the throne of his people than Washington from his quiet home on the Potomac to the seat of supreme power over his countrymen. There was not a single believer in the Divine Being in the Constitutional Congress who did not hear in the voice of John Adams, when he moved the appointment of George Washington as Commander-in-Chief of all the forces raised or to be raised, the creation and appointment of God.

So, in his election and re-election to the office of President, Hamilton set forth the clearness and urgency of the call in the remark that circumstances left Washington no option. That wonderful triumphal procession from Mount Vernon to New York, through Baltimore, Philadelphia, and Trenton, is in response to the appeal and command not only of earth, but of Heaven. As the nation's first President was called of God, so is the nation itself called. The divine ideal is before it as it was before him. God had work for Washington; he had work for his nation; he had work for every one of his fellow-citizens. An ideal good is before every man, and divine power behind him. Let him consent to the control of the power.

The nation's life and each individual life within it is founded on the sense of obligation. We have in the model of Washington a definition of duty in the special sense of the term, in the saying, "I most heartily wish the choice may not fall upon me. The wish of my soul is to spend the evening of my days as a private citizen on my farm." There is the power of inclination, the pleading of personal ease and comfort, the assertion of individual good. In all this there is nothing wrong, until it comes into conflict with the national call, with the universal good. Then came the fight between the special and the general, the private and the public, the individual and the universal good.

The hope of a nation is in the choice of office of its best men. The historic peril of the republic lies in the choice of unfit men for eminent official position. This is our peril. It is well we are becoming more and more alive to it. Nevertheless it is well to remember that there have been times in our history when the voice of electors has been the voice of God. When Washington was elected, the fittest man was chosen. His was the rule of the wisest and best man. There are few living who will not confess that Abraham Lincoln was another example of the choice by the people of the best man. We turn in hope to the great future. After he had taken the oath, Washington bowed his head, kissed the Bible, and, with the deepest feeling, uttered the words, "So help me God." There was his hope. There is the hope of every man. There is the hope of the nation.

* * * * *

PRESIDENT WASHINGTON'S RECEPTIONS

BY WILLIAM SULLIVAN

He devoted one hour every other Tuesday, from three to four, to these visits. He understood himself to be visited as the "President of the United States," and not on his own account. He was not to be seen by anybody and everybody; but required that everyone who came should be introduced by his secretary, or by some gentleman whom he knew himself. He lived on the South side of Market Street, just below Sixth. The place of reception was the dining-room in the rear, twenty-five or thirty feet in length, including the bow projecting over into the garden. Mrs. Washington received her visitors in the two rooms on the second floor, from front to rear.

At three o'clock, or at any time within a quarter of an hour afterward, the visitor was conducted to this dining-room, from which all seats had been removed for the time. On entering, he saw the tall, manly figure of Washington, clad in black velvet; his hair in full dress, powdered and gathered behind in a large silk bag; yellow gloves on his hands; holding a cocked hat with cockade in it, and the edges adorned with a black feather, about an inch deep. He wore knee and shoe buckles; and a long sword with a finely wrought and polished steel hilt. The scabbard was white polished leather.

He stood always in front of the fireplace, with his face toward the door of entrance. The visitor was conducted to him, and he required to have the name so distinctly pronounced that he could hear it. He had the very uncommon faculty of associating a man's name and personal appearance so durably in his memory, as to be able to call anyone by name, who made a second visit. He received his visitor with a dignified bow, while his hands were so disposed of as to indicate that the salutation was not to be accompanied with shaking hands. This ceremony never occurred in these visits, even with his most near friends, that no distinction might be made.

As these visitors came in, they formed a circle round the room. At a quarter-past three, the door was closed, and the circle was formed for that day. He then began on the right and spoke to each visitor, calling him by name and exchanging a few words with him. When he had completed his circuit he resumed his first position, and the visitors approached him in succession, bowed, and retired. By four o'clock the ceremony was over.

On the evenings Mrs. Washington received visitors, he did not consider himself as visited. He was then as a private gentleman, dressed usually in some colored coat and waistcoat, often brown with bright buttons, and black on his lower limbs. He had then neither hat nor sword; he moved about among the company, conversing with one and another. He had once a fortnight an official dinner, and select companies on other days. He sat (it is said) at the side in a central position, Mrs. Washington opposite; the two ends were occupied by members of his family, or by personal friends.

* * * * *

THE FOREIGN POLICY OF WASHINGTON

BY CHARLES JAMES FOX

How infinitely superior must appear the spirit and principles of General Washington, in his late address to Congress, compared with the policy of modern European courts! Illustrious man!—deriving honor less from the splendor of his situation than from the dignity of his mind! Grateful to France for the assistance received from her in that great contest which secured the independence of America, he yet did not choose to give up the system of neutrality in her favor. Having once laid down the line of conduct most proper to be pursued, not all the insults and provocations of the French Minister, Genet, could at all put him out of his way or bend him from his purpose. It must, indeed, create astonishment that, placed in circumstances so critical, and filling a station so conspicuous, the character of Washington should never once have been called in question; that he should in no one instance have been accused either of improper insolence or of mean submission in his transactions with foreign nations. It has been reserved for him to run the race of glory without experiencing the smallest interruption to the brilliancy of his career. The breath of censure has not dared to impeach the purity of his conduct, nor the eye of envy to raise its malignant glance to the elevation of his virtues. Such has been the transcendent merit and the unparalleled fate of this illustrious man!

How did he act when insulted by Genet? Did he consider it as necessary to avenge himself for the misconduct or madness of an individual by involving a whole continent in the horrors of war? No; he contented himself with procuring satisfaction for the insult by causing Genet to be recalled, and thus at once consulted his own dignity and the interests of his country. Happy Americans! while the whirlwind flies over one quarter of the globe, and spreads everywhere desolation, you remain protected from its baneful effects by your own virtues and the wisdom of your government. Separated from Europe by an immense ocean, you feel not the effect of those prejudices and passions which convert the boasted seats of civilization into scenes of horror and bloodshed. You profit; by the folly and madness of the contending nations, and afford, in your more congenial clime, an asylum to those blessings and virtues which they wantonly contemn, or wickedly exclude from their bosom! Cultivating the arts of peace under the influence of freedom, you advance by rapid strides to opulence and distinction; and if by any accident you should be compelled to take part in the present unhappy contest,—if you should find it necessary to avenge insult or repel injury,—the world will bear witness to the equity of your sentiments and the moderation of your views; and the success of your arms will, no doubt, be proportioned to the justice of your cause.



V

LAST DAYS

GEORGE WASHINGTON[16]

BY HAMILTON WRIGHT MABIE

On the 4th of March, 1797, Washington went to the inauguration of his successor as President of the United States. The Federal Government was sitting in Philadelphia at that time, and Congress held sessions in the courthouse on the corner of Sixth and Chestnut Streets.

At the appointed hour Washington entered the hall, followed by John Adams, who was to take the oath of office. When they were seated, Washington arose and introduced Mr. Adams to the audience, and then proceeded to read in a firm, clear voice his brief valedictory—not his great "Farewell Address," for that had already been published. A lady who sat on "the front bench," "immediately in front" of Washington, describes the scene in these words:

There was a narrow passage from the door of entrance to the room. General Washington stopped at the end to let Mr. Adams pass to the chair. The latter always wore a full suit of bright drab, with loose cuffs to his coat. General Washington's dress was a full suit of black. His military hat had the black cockade. There stood the "Father of his Country," acknowledged by nations the first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen. No marshals with gold-colored scarfs attended him; there was no cheering, no noise; the most profound silence greeted him as if the great assembly desired to hear him breathe. Mr. Adams covered his face with both his hands; the sleeves of his coat and his hands were covered with tears. Every now and then there was a suppressed sob. I cannot describe Washington's appearance as I felt it—perfectly composed and self-possessed till the close of his address. Then, when strong nervous sobs broke loose, when tears covered the faces, then the great man was shaken. I never took my eyes from his face. Large drops came from his eyes. He looked as if his heart was with them, and would be to the end.

On Washington's retirement from the Presidency one of his first employments was to arrange his papers and letters. Then, on returning to his home, the venerable master found many things to repair. His landed estate comprised eight thousand acres, and was divided into farms, with inclosures and farm buildings. And now, with body and mind alike sound and vigorous, he bent his energies to directing the improvements that marked his last days at Mount Vernon.

In his earlier as well as in later life, his tour of the farms would average from eight to twelve or fourteen miles a day. He rode upon his farms entirely unattended, opening his gates, pulling down and putting up his fences as he passed, visiting his laborers at their work, inspecting all the operations of his extensive establishment with a careful eye, directing useful improvements, and superintending them in their progress.

He usually rode at a moderate pace in passing through his fields. But when behind time, this most punctual of men would display the horsemanship of his earlier days, and a hard gallop would bring him up to time so that the sound of his horse's hoofs and the first dinner bell would be heard together at a quarter before three.

A story is told that one day an elderly stranger meeting a Revolutionary worthy out hunting, a long-tried and valued friend of the chief, accosted him, and asked whether Washington was to be found at the mansion house, or whether he was off riding over his estate. The friend answered that he was visiting his farms, and directed the stranger the road to take, adding, "You will meet, sir, with an old gentleman riding alone in plain drab clothes, a broad-brimmed white hat, a hickory switch in his hand, and carrying an umbrella with a long staff, which is attached to his saddle-bow—that person, sir, is General Washington."

Precisely at a quarter before three the industrious farmer returned, dressed, and dined at three o'clock. At this meal he ate heartily, but was not particular in his diet with the exception of fish, of which he was excessively fond. Touching his liking for fish, and illustrative of his practical economy and abhorrence of waste and extravagance, an anecdote is told of the time he was President and living in Philadelphia. It happened that a single shad had been caught in the Delaware, and brought to the city market. His steward, Sam Fraunces, pounced upon the fish with the speed of an osprey, delighted that he had secured a delicacy agreeable to the palate of his chief, and careless of the expense, for which the President had often rebuked him.

When the fish was served, Washington suspected the steward had forgotten his order about expenditure for the table, and said to Fraunces, who stood at his post at the sideboard, "What fish is this?" "A shad, sir, a very fine shad," the steward answered. "I know Your Excellency is particularly fond of this kind of fish, and was so fortunate as to procure this one—the only one in market, sir, the first of the season." "The price, sir, the price?" asked Washington sternly. "Three—three dollars," stammered the conscience-stricken steward. "Take it away," thundered the chief, "take it away, sir! It shall never be said that my table set such an example of luxury and extravagance." Poor Fraunces tremblingly did as he was told, and the first shad of the season was carried away untouched, to be speedily discussed in the servants' dining-room.

Although the Farmer of Mount Vernon was much retired from the business world, he was by no means inattentive to the progress of public affairs. When the post-bag arrived, he would select his letters and lay them aside for reading in the seclusion of his library. The newspapers he would peruse while taking his single cup of tea (his only supper) and read aloud passages of peculiar interest, remarking the matter as he went along. He read with distinctness and precision. These evenings with his family always ended at precisely nine o'clock, when he bade everyone good-night and retired to rest, to rise again at four and renew the same routine of labor and enjoyment.

Washington's last days, like those that preceded them in the course of a long and well-spent life, were devoted to constant and careful employment. His correspondence both at home and abroad was immense. Yet no letter was unanswered. One of the best-bred men of his time, Washington deemed it a grave offense against the rules of good manners and propriety to leave letters unanswered. He wrote with great facility, and it would be a difficult matter to find another who had written so much, who had written so well. General Harry Lee once observed to him, "We are amazed, sir, at the vast amount of work you get through." Washington answered, "Sir, I rise at four o'clock, and a great deal of my work is done while others sleep."

He was the most punctual of men, as we said. To this admirable quality of rising at four and retiring to rest at nine at all seasons, this great man owed his ability to accomplish mighty labors during his long and illustrious life. He was punctual in everything, and made everyone about him punctual. So careful a man delighted in always having about him a good timekeeper. In Philadelphia the first President regularly walked up to his watchmaker's to compare his watch with the regulator. At Mount Vernon the active yet punctual farmer invariably consulted the dial when returning from his morning ride, and before entering his house.

The affairs of the household took order from the master's accurate and methodical arrangement of time. Even the fisherman on the river watched for the cook's signal when to pull in shore and deliver his catch in time for dinner.

Among the picturesque objects on the Potomac, to be seen from the eastern portion of the mansion house, was the light canoe of the house's fisher. Father Jack was an African, an hundred years of age, and although enfeebled in body by weight of years, his mind possessed uncommon vigor. And he would tell of days long past, when, under African suns, he was made captive, and of the terrible battle in which his royal sire was slain, the village burned, and himself sent to the slave ship.

Father Jack had in a considerable degree a leading quality of his race—somnolency. Many an hour could the family of Washington see the canoe fastened to a stake, with the old fisherman bent nearly double enjoying a nap, which was only disturbed by the jerking of the white perch caught on his hook. But, as we just said, the domestic duties of Mount Vernon were governed by clock time, and the slumbers of fisher Jack might occasion inconvenience, for the cook required the fish at a certain hour, so that they might be served smoking hot precisely at three. At times he would go to the river bank and make the accustomed signals, and meet with no response. The old fisherman would be quietly reposing in his canoe, rocked by the gentle undulations of the stream, and dreaming, no doubt, of events "long time ago." The importune master of the kitchen, grown ferocious by delay, would now rush up and down the water's edge, and, by dint of loud shouting, cause the canoe to turn its prow to the shore. Father Jack, indignant at its being supposed he was asleep at his post, would rate those present on his landing, "What you all meck such a debil of a noise for, hey? I wa'nt sleep, only noddin'."

The establishment of Mount Vernon employed a perfect army of domestics; yet to each one were assigned special duties, and from each one strict performance was required. There was no confusion where there was order, and the affairs of this estate, embracing thousands of acres and hundreds of dependents, were conducted with as much ease, method, and regularity as the affairs of a homestead of average size.

Mrs. Washington was an accomplished housewife of the olden time, and she gave constant attention to all matters of her household, and by her skill and management greatly contributed to the comfort and entertainment of the guests who enjoyed the hospitality of her home.

The best charities of life were gathered round Washington in the last days at Mount Vernon. The love and veneration of a whole people for his illustrious services, his generous and untiring labors in the cause of public utility; his kindly demeanor to his family circle, his friends, and numerous dependents; his courteous and cordial hospitality to his guests, many of them strangers from far distant lands; these charities, all of which sprang from the heart, were the ornament of his declining years, and granted the most sublime scene in nature, when human greatness reposes upon human happiness.

On the morning of the 13th of December, 1799, the General was engaged in making some improvements in the front of Mount Vernon. As was usual with him, he carried his own compass, noted his observations, and marked out the ground. The day became rainy, with sleet, and the improver remained so long exposed to the inclemency of the weather as to be considerably wetted before his return to the house. About one o'clock he was seized with chilliness and nausea, but having changed his clothes, he sat down to his indoor work. At night, on joining his family circle, he complained of a slight indisposition. Upon the night of the following day, having borne acute suffering with composure and fortitude, he died.

In person Washington was unique. He looked like no one else. To a stature lofty and commanding he united a form of the manliest proportions, and a dignified, graceful, and imposing carriage. In the prime of life he stood six feet, two inches. From the period of the Revolution there was an evident bending in his frame so passing straight before, but the stoop came from the cares and toils of that arduous contest rather than from years. For his step was firm, his appearance noble and impressive long after the time when the physical properties of men are supposed to wane.

A majestic height was met by corresponding breadth and firmness. His whole person was so cast in nature's finest mould as to resemble an ancient statue, all of whose parts unite to the perfection of the whole. But with all its development of muscular power, Washington's form had no look of bulkiness, and so harmonious were its proportions that he did not appear so tall as his portraits have represented. He was rather spare than full during his whole life.

The strength of Washington's arm was shown on several occasions. He threw a stone from the bed of the stream to the top of the Natural Bridge, Virginia, and another stone across the Rappahannock at Fredericksburg. The stone was said to be a piece of slate about the size of a dollar with which he spanned the bold river, and it took the ground at least thirty yards on the other side. Many have since tried this feat, but none have cleared the water.

In 1772 some young men were contending at Mount Vernon in the exercise of pitching the bar. The Colonel looked on for a time, then grasping the missile in his master hand, he whirled the iron through the air, and it fell far beyond any of its former limits. "You see, young gentlemen," said the chief with a smile, "that my arm yet retains some portion of my early vigor." He was then in his fortieth year, and probably in the fullness of his physical powers. Those powers became rather mellowed than decayed by time, for "his age was like lusty winter, frosty yet kindly," and up to his sixty-eighth year he mounted a horse with surprising agility, and rode with ease and grace. Rickets, the celebrated equestrian, used to say, "I delight to see the General ride, and make it a point to fall in with him when I hear he is out on horseback—his seat is so firm, his management so easy and graceful, that I, who am an instructor in horsemanship, would go to him and learn to ride."

In his later day, the General, desirous of riding pleasantly, procured from the North two horses of a breed for bearing the saddle. They were well to look at, and pleasantly gaited under the saddle, but also scary, and therefore unfitted for the service of one who liked to ride quietly on his farm, occasionally dismounting and walking in his fields to inspect improvements. From one of these horses the General sustained a fall—probably the only fall he ever had from a horse in his life. It was upon a November evening, and he was returning from Alexandria to Mount Vernon, with three friends and a groom. Having halted a few moments, he dismounted, and upon rising in his stirrup again, the horse, alarmed at the glare from a fire near the roadside, sprang from under his rider, who came heavily to the ground. His friends rushed to give him assistance, thinking him hurt. But the vigorous old man was upon his feet again, brushing the dust from his clothes, and after thanking those who came to his aid, said that he had had a very complete tumble, and that it was owing to a cause no horseman could well avoid or control—that he was only poised in his stirrup, and had not yet gained his saddle when the scary animal sprang from under him.

Bred in the vigorous school of frontier warfare, "the earth for his bed, his canopy the heavens," Washington excelled the hunter and woodsman in their athletic habits, and in those trials of manhood which filled the hardy days of his early life. He was amazingly swift of foot, and could climb steep mountains seemingly without effort. Indeed, in all the tests of his great physical powers he appeared to make little effort. When he overthrew the strong man of Virginia in wrestling, upon a day when many of the finest athletes were engaged in the contest, he had retired to the shade of a tree intent upon the reading of a book. It was only after the champion of the games strode through the ring calling for nobler antagonists, and taunting the reader with the fear that he would be thrown, that Washington closed his book. Without taking off his coat he calmly observed that fear did not enter his make-up; then grappling with the champion, he hurled him to the ground. "In Washington's lion-like grasp," said the vanquished wrestler, "I became powerless, and went down with a force that seemed to jar the very marrow in my bones." The victor, regardless of shouts at his success, leisurely retired to his shade, and again took up his book.

Washington's powers were chiefly in his limbs. His frame was of equal breadth from the shoulders to the hips. His chest was not prominent, but rather hollowed in the center. He never entirely recovered from a pulmonary affection from which he suffered in early life. His frame showed an extraordinary development of bone and muscle; his joints were large, as were his feet; and could a cast of his hand have been preserved, it would be ascribed to a being of a fabulous age. Lafayette said, "I never saw any human being with so large a hand as the General's."

Of the awe and reverence which the presence of Washington inspired we have many records. "I stood," says one writer, "before the door of the Hall of Congress in Philadelphia, when the carriage of the President drew up. It was a white coach, or, rather, of a light cream color, painted on the panels with beautiful groups representing the four seasons. As Washington alighted, and, ascending the steps, paused on the platform, he was preceded by two gentlemen bearing large white wands, who kept back the eager crowd that pressed on every side. At that moment I stood so near I might have touched his clothes; but I should as soon have thought of touching an electric battery. I was penetrated with deepest awe. Nor was this the feeling of the schoolboy I then was. It pervaded, I believe, every human being that approached Washington; and I have been told that even in his social hours, this feeling in those who shared them never suffered intermission. I saw him a hundred times afterward, but never with any other than the same feeling. The Almighty, who raised up for our hour of need a man so peculiarly prepared for its whole dread responsibility, seems to have put a stamp of sacredness upon his instrument. The first sight of the man struck the eye with involuntary homage, and prepared everything around him to obey.

"At the time I speak of, he stood in profound silence and had the statue-like air which mental greatness alone can bestow. As he turned to enter the building, and was ascending the staircase to the Congressional hall, I glided along unseen, almost under the cover of the skirts of his dress, and entered into the lobby of the House, which was in session to receive him.

"At Washington's entrance there was a most profound silence. House, lobbies, gallery, all were wrapped in deepest attention. And the souls of the entire assemblage seemed peering from their eyes as the noble figure deliberately and unaffectedly advanced up the broad aisle of the hall between ranks of standing Senators and members, and slowly ascended the steps leading to the Speaker's chair.

"The President, having seated himself, remained in silence, and the members took their seats, waiting for the speech. No house of worship was ever more profoundly still than that large and crowded chamber.

"Washington was dressed precisely as Stuart has painted him in full-length portrait—in a full suit of the richest black velvet, with diamond knee-buckles and square silver buckles set upon shoes japanned with most scrupulous neatness; black silk stockings, his shirt ruffled at the breast and waist, a light dress sword, his hair profusely powdered, fully dressed, so as to project at the sides, and gathered behind in a silk bag ornamented with a large rose or black ribbon. He held his cocked hat, which had a large black cockade on one side of it, in his hand, as he advanced toward the chair, and when seated, laid it on the table.

"At length thrusting his hand within the side of his coat, he drew forth a roll of manuscript which he opened, and rising, read in a rich, deep, full, sonorous voice his opening address to Congress. His enunciation was deliberate, justly emphasized, very distinct, and accompanied with an air of deep solemnity as being the utterance of a mind conscious of the whole responsibility of its position, but not oppressed by it. There was ever about the man something which impressed one with the conviction that he was exactly and fully equal to what he had to do. He was never hurried; never negligent; but seemed ever prepared for the occasion, be it what it might. In his study, in his parlor, at a levee, before Congress, at the head of the army, he seemed ever to be just what the situation required. He possessed, in a degree never equaled by any human being I ever saw, the strongest, most ever-present sense of propriety."

In the early part of Washington's administration, great complaints were made by political opponents of the aristocratic and royal demeanor of the President. Particularly, these complaints were about the manner of his receiving visitors. In a letter Washington gave account of the origin of his levees: "Before the custom was established," he wrote, "which now accommodates foreign characters, strangers, and others, who, from motives of curiosity, respect for the chief magistrate, or other cause, are induced to call upon me, I was unable to attend to any business whatever; for gentlemen, consulting their own convenience rather than mine, were calling after the time I rose from breakfast, and often before, until I sat down to dinner. This, as I resolved not to neglect my public duties, reduced me to the choice of one of these alternatives: either to refuse visits altogether, or to appropriate a time for the reception of them.... To please everybody was impossible. I, therefore, adopted that line of conduct which combined public advantage with private convenience.... These visits are optional, they are made without invitation; between the hours of three and four every Tuesday I am prepared to receive them. Gentlemen, often in great numbers, come and go, chat with each other, and act as they please. A porter shows them into the room, and they retire from it when they choose, without ceremony. At their first entrance they salute me, and I them, and as many as I can talk to."

An English gentleman, after visiting President Washington, wrote: "There was a commanding air in his appearance which excited respect and forbade too great a freedom toward him, independently of that species of awe which is always felt in the moral influence of a great character? In every movement, too, there was a polite gracefulness equal to any met with in the most polished individuals of Europe, and his smile was extraordinarily attractive.... It struck me no man could be better formed for command. A stature of six feet, a robust but well-proportioned frame calculated to stand fatigue, without that heaviness which generally attends great muscular strength and abates active exertion, displayed bodily power of no mean standard. A light eye and full—the very eye of genius and reflection. His nose appeared thick, and though it befitted his other features, was too coarsely and strongly formed to be the handsomest of its class. His mouth was like no other I ever saw: the lips firm, and the under jaw seeming to grasp the upper with force, as if its muscles were in full action when he sat still."

Such Washington appeared to those who saw and knew him. Such he remains to our vision. His memory is held by us in undying honor. Not only his memory alone, but also the memory of his associates in the struggle for American Independence. Homage we should have in our hearts for those patriots and heroes and sages who with humble means raised their native land—now our native land—from the depths of dependence, and made it a free nation. And especially for Washington, who presided over the nation's course at the beginning of the great experiment in self-government and, after an unexampled career in the service of freedom and our human-kind, with no dimming of august fame, died calmly at Mount Vernon—the Father of his Country.

FOOTNOTES:

[16] From "Heroes Every Child Should Know." Copyright, 1906, by Doubleday, Page & Co.

* * * * *

WASHINGTON'S LAST DAYS[17]

BY ELIZABETH EGGLESTON SEELYE

Once more before he died Washington was called into public life for a short time. President Adams had sent three commissioners to France. The French Minister, Talleyrand, treated them ill, and sent secret agents to them to let them know that nothing would be done until they paid large bribes. The three Americans sent home cipher dispatches in which they told how they had been received. President Adams thought best to publish these dispatches, putting the letters X, Y, and Z in place of the names of the secret agents. These papers came to be known as the X, Y, and Z dispatches, and they caused great excitement in America. The cry was, "Millions for defense, but not one cent for tribute," and the war spirit rose very high. Everyone wished Washington to be the leader in case there should be war with France. President Adams accordingly wrote to Washington, asking him to accept the command of the new army which was to be formed. Washington accepted, on condition that he was not to be called into service unless there should really be war, and that he should be allowed to name the chief officers who were to serve under him. He wished to put a young and able man second in command—for old officers seldom make good ones—so he chose Hamilton first, then Pinckney, and then Knox. Adams disliked Hamilton, and tried to place Knox second in command, as this old officer thought his due. There was some trouble between Washington and Adams on this point, but Adams was forced to give way to the great leader. Washington went to Philadelphia in the fall of 1798, to work over army plans with his major-generals. It seemed possible that he might have to lead the Americans against one of Napoleon's great armies. But though he made careful preparations, Washington did not believe that there would be war. He thought, however, that preparing for war would be the best way to bring about peace. And so it proved; for no sooner did Talleyrand see that the Americans were really aroused than he caused it to be intimated to the American Minister at Holland that he would treat another envoy better. Adams accordingly sent one to France, and war was finally averted, though the news of the settlement did not reach America until after the death of her great General.

Washington had said, "I am of a short-lived family, and cannot remain long upon the earth." In fact, his sister and all of his brothers except one died before he did. According to his usual careful habits, he made out a long paper, in which he planned how his estates should be managed for several years, with a rotation of crops. He finished this paper only four days before his death. The day before he was taken ill he walked out with his nephew, Lawrence Lewis, who was married to Nelly Custis and living at Mount Vernon, and talked to him about building a new family vault. "This change," said he, "I shall make first of all, for I may require it before the rest."

On the 12th of December, 1799, Washington made the tour, as usual, of his plantations. The weather was very bad. There was rain, hail, and snow falling at different times, and a cold wind blowing. It was after three o'clock when he returned. Mr. Lear, his secretary, brought him some letters to be franked, for he intended to send them to the post office that afternoon. Washington franked the letters, but said that the weather was too bad to send a servant out with them. Lear noticed that the General's neck appeared to be wet, and that there was snow clinging to his hair. He spoke to him about it, but Washington said that he was not wet, as his greatcoat had protected him. He went to dinner, which was waiting for him, without changing his clothes. The next day he complained of a sore throat, and remained in the house in the morning, as it was snowing hard. In the afternoon, however, he went out to mark some trees which he wished cut down, between the house and the river. He was quite hoarse by evening. He sat in the parlor, however, with Mrs. Washington and Lear, reading the papers which had been brought from the post office. He read some things aloud in spite of his hoarseness. At nine o'clock Mrs. Washington went to the room of her granddaughter Nelly, whose first child had recently been born. The two gentlemen continued to read the papers, and Washington seemed cheerful. Once he became excited over some political event, and used some of the strong words he could command on occasion. Before they went to bed, Lear advised the General to take something for his cold.

"No," said Washington; "you know I never take anything for a cold. Let it go as it came."

During the night, however, he had a chill, and awoke Mrs. Washington, telling her that he felt ill. She wished to get up, but he would not allow her to do this, lest she should take cold. When the servant came into the room to make a fire at daylight, Mrs. Washington sent for Lear, and got up herself. The General was now breathing with difficulty, and could scarcely speak. Lear sent for Dr. Craik, and meantime Washington told him to send for Mr. Rawlins, an overseer, to bleed him. Rawlins came soon after sunrise, and trembled at the prospect of opening a vein on the great man's arm. "Don't be afraid," said Washington; and when the vein had been opened, he added, "the orifice is not large enough." Mrs. Washington did not approve of the bleeding before the doctor came, but Washington said, "More, more." It was a universal remedy in those days, but it brought no relief to the sufferer.

During the day three doctors arrived. Washington was bled three times; blisters were applied to the throat and the feet; all that medical science could do in that day was tried, but without success. The disease was an acute laryngitis, and could have been relieved only by tracheotomy, which was not practical in the South, though it had been tried in Philadelphia at an earlier date. About half-past four in the afternoon the sick man asked Mrs. Washington to go downstairs and fetch two wills from his desk. He looked at them, and asked her to burn one of them, which she did. Lear now came to his bedside and took his hand.

"I find I am going," Washington said to him. "My breath cannot 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. Arrange my accounts and settle my books, as you know more about them than anyone else, and let Mr. Rawlins finish recording my other letters which he has begun."

Washington asked Lear whether he thought of anything else that ought to be done; he had but a very short time, he said, to remain with his friends. The secretary answered that he could think of nothing, and that he hoped the General was not so near his end as he thought. Washington smiled, and said that he certainly was, "and that, as it was a debt which we must all pay, he looked on the event with perfect resignation."

Sometimes he seemed to be in pain and distress from the difficulty of breathing, and was very restless. Lear would then lie down upon the bed and raise and turn him as gently as possibly. Washington often said, "I am afraid I shall fatigue you too much"; and when the young man assured him that he wished for nothing but to give him ease, Washington replied:

"Well, it is a debt we must pay to each other, and I hope that when you want aid of this kind you will find it."

He noticed that his servant, Christopher, had been standing most of the day, and told him to sit down. He asked when his nephew Lewis and his adopted son Custis, who were away from home, would return. When his lifelong friend, Dr. Craik, came to his bedside, he said: "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 cannot last long." The doctor was unable to answer from grief, and could only press his hand.

He afterward said to all the physicians: "I feel myself going. I thank you for your attentions; but, I pray you, take no more trouble about me. Let me go off quietly; I cannot last long." He continued to be restless and uneasy, but made no complaints, only asking now and then what time it was. When Lear helped him to move, he gave the secretary a look of gratitude. About ten o'clock at night he made several efforts to speak to Lear before he could do so. He finally 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." Lear nodded, for he could not speak.

"Do you understand?" asked Washington.

"Yes."

"'Tis well," said the dying man.

About ten minutes before death his breathing became easier; he felt his own pulse, and the expression of his face changed. One hand presently fell from the wrist of the other. Lear took it in his and pressed it to his bosom.

Mrs. Washington, who sat near the foot of the bed, asked in a firm voice, "Is he gone?"

Lear was unable to speak, but made a sign that Washington was dead.

"Tis well," said she; "all is now over; I shall soon follow him; I have no more trials to pass through."

Washington died on December 14, 1799, in his sixty-eighth year. All his neighbors and relatives assembled to attend his funeral; the militia and Freemasons of Alexandria were present; eleven pieces of artillery were brought to Mount Vernon to do military honors, and a schooner which lay in the Potomac fired minute guns. Washington's horse, with saddle, holster, and pistols, was led before the coffin by two grooms dressed in black. The body was deposited in the old family vault, after short and simple ceremonies. Washington was deeply mourned all over the United States, for never had a man been so beloved by his own countrymen.

Washington left all of his estates to his wife for life; after her death they were to be divided between his nephews and nieces, and Mrs. Washington's grandchildren. He made his nephew, Bushrod Washington, his principal heir, leaving Mount Vernon to him. He said that he did this partly because he had promised the young man's father, his brother, John Augustine, when they were bachelors, to leave Mount Vernon to him in case he should fall in the French war. He willed that all his negro slaves should be set free on the death of his wife. He said that he earnestly wished that it might be done before this, but he feared it would cause trouble on account of their intermarriages with the dower negroes who came to Mrs. Washington from her first husband, and whom he had no right to free. He willed also that such should be comfortably clothed and fed by his heirs. To his five nephews he left his swords, with the injunction that they were "not to unsheath them for the purpose of shedding blood, except it be in self-defense, or in defense of their country and its rights; and in the latter case to keep them unsheathed, and prefer falling with them in their hands to the relinquishment thereof."

Washington's life is an open book. He knew that he was making history, and he kept careful copies of all his most important letters and writings, so that it is impossible that there should be doubts on any very important point. So jealous was he of his own honorable reputation, that his last act as President was to file a denial of the authenticity of some spurious letters which were attributed to him by his political enemies. These letters were first published during the Revolution by the English, and purported to be written by Washington to Lund Washington, to Mrs. Washington, and to John Parke Custis. The person who wrote them knew something of Washington's private affairs, but he made the American general say things which represented him as opposed to the independence of the colonies. It was asserted that Washington in his retreat from New York left his servant Billy behind, and that these papers were found in a handbag which the valet carried. As it was well known in the army that Billy had never been captured, Washington did not then think it needful to deny having written these letters; but when they were brought forward again by his enemies during the last years of his Presidency, he was alarmed lest they should go down to history as his own. Most of Washington's writings which are preserved show him to us only as a grave public character, and lives of Washington drawn mainly from this source are apt to make the great man seem unnaturally cold, dignified, remote, and impressive. So usual has this view of Washington become, that there is a common belief that he never laughed aloud—a belief which there are many stories to refute.

Washington had immense physical courage. In all the battles in which he fought he exposed himself fearlessly. His moral courage was even greater. He never shrank from doing what he thought right because it was likely to make him unpopular. Perhaps Washington's greatest qualities were his wisdom and prudence. These traits were very important in the leader of a young people engaged in a revolutionary struggle. He had few brilliant military successes, but it is impossible to say what he might not have done had he not been weighed down by immense difficulties. His influence over men was great, and those who were under him loved him. He was never swayed by mean motives, his actions were always honorable, and he was generous even to those who were his bitter opponents. Though he was a man of action, he thought deeply on many subjects. "Never," said Jefferson, "did nature and fortune combine more perfectly to make a man great, and to place him in the same constellation with whatever worthies have merited from man an everlasting remembrance."

FOOTNOTES:

[17] "The Story of Washington." D. Appleton & Co., 1893.

* * * * *

THE MOUNT VERNON TRIBUTE[18]

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 United All The Qualities Necessary to An Illustrious Career.

NATURE MADE HIM GREAT;

He made himself virtuous.

Called By His Country To The Defence of Her Liberties, He Triumphantly Vindicated The Rights of Humanity, And on The Pillars of National Independence Laid the Foundations Of A Great Republic. Twice Invested With the Supreme Magistracy, By the Unanimous Voice of a Free People, He Surpassed In The Cabinet

THE GLORIES OF THE FIELD,

And Voluntarily Resigning the Sceptre and the Sword, Retired to the Shades of Private Life. A Spectacle So New and So Sublime Was Contemplated With the Profoundest Admiration; And the Name of

WASHINGTON,

Adding New Lustre to Humanity, Resounded To The Remotest Regions Of the Earth. Magnanimous in Youth,

GLORIOUS THROUGH LIFE, GREAT IN DEATH,

His Highest Ambition the Happiness of Mankind, His Noblest Victory the Conquest of Himself, Bequeathing to Posterity the Inheritance of His Fame,

And Building His Monument in the Hearts of His Countrymen,

He Lived the Ornament Of the Eighteenth Century, and Died Regretted By a Mourning World.

FOOTNOTES:

[18] The author of this inscription is not known. It has been transcribed from a manuscript copy written on the back of a picture-frame, in which is set a miniature likeness of Washington, and which hangs in one of the rooms of the mansion at Mount Vernon, where it was left some time after Washington's death.—H.B. CARRINGTON.

* * * * *

THE WORDS OF WASHINGTON

BY DANIEL WEBSTER

Delivered at the laying of the cornerstone of the new wing of the Capitol at Washington, July 4, 1851

Washington! Methinks I see his venerable form now before me. He is dignified and grave; but concern and anxiety seem to soften the lineaments of his countenance. The government over which he presides is yet in the crisis of experiment. Not free from troubles at home, he sees the world in commotion and arms all around him. He sees that imposing foreign powers are half disposed to try the strength of the recently established American Government. Mighty thoughts, mingled with fears as well as with hopes, are struggling within him. He heads a short procession over these then naked fields; he crosses yonder stream on a fallen tree; he ascends to the top of this eminence, whose original oaks of the forest stand as thick around him as if the spot had been devoted to Druidical worship, and here he performs the appointed duty of the day.

And now, if this vision were a reality; if Washington now were actually amongst us, and if he could draw around him the shades of the great public men of his own day, patriots and warriors, orators and statesmen, and were to address us in their presence, would he not say to us:

"Ye men of this generation, I rejoice and thank God for being able to see that our labors, and toils, and sacrifices, were not in vain. You are prosperous, you are happy, you are grateful. The fire of liberty burns brightly and steadily in your hearts, while duty and the law restrain it from bursting forth in wild and destructive conflagration. Cherish liberty, as you love it; cherish its securities, as you wish to preserve it. Maintain the Constitution which we labored so painfully to establish, and which has been to you such a source of inestimable blessings. Preserve the Union of the States, cemented as it was by our prayers, our tears, and our blood. Be true to God, to your country, and to your duty. So shall the whole Eastern world follow the morning sun, so contemplate you as a nation; so shall all generations honor you, as they honor us; and so shall that Almighty power which so graciously protected us, and which now protects you, shower its everlasting blessings upon you and your posterity!"

Great Father of your Country! We need your words; we feel their force, as if you now uttered them with lips of flesh and blood. Your example teaches us, your affectionate addresses teach us, your public life teaches us, your sense of the value of the blessings of the Union. Those blessings our fathers have tasted, and we have tasted, and still taste. Nor do we intend that those who come after us shall be denied the same high function. Our honor, as well as our happiness, is concerned. We cannot, we dare not, we will not, betray our sacred trust. We will not filch from posterity the treasure placed in our hands to be transmitted to other generations. The bow that gilds the clouds in the heavens, the pillars that uphold the firmament, may disappear and fall away in the hour appointed by the will of God; but, until that day comes, or so long as our lives may last, no ruthless hand shall undermine that bright arch of Union and Liberty which spans the continent from Washington to California!



VI

TRIBUTES

MEMORIALS OF WASHINGTON[19]

BY HENRY B. CARRINGTON

Modern history, oratory, and poetry are so replete with tributes to the memory of Washington, that the entire progress of the civilized world for more than a century has been shaped by the influence of his life and precepts. The memorial shaft at the national capital, which is the loftiest of human structures, and is inner-faced by typical expressions of honor from nearly all nations, is a fit type of his surmounting merit. The ceremonies which attended the cornerstone consecration and signalized its completion are no less an honor to the distinguished historian and statesman who voiced the acclamations of the American people than a perpetual testimonial worthy of the subject honored by the occasion and by the monument. When the world pays willing tribute, and the most ambitious monarch on earth would covet no higher plaudit than that he served his people as faithfully as Washington served America, it is difficult to fathom the depths of memorial sentiment and place in public view those which are the most worthy of study and appreciative respect. The national life itself throbs through his transmitted life, and the aroma of his grace is as consciously breathed by statesmen and citizens to-day as the invisible atmosphere which secures physical vitality and force. Senator Vance of North Carolina, thus earnestly commends to the youth of America the brightness and beauty of the great example:

Greater soldiers, more intellectual statesmen, and profounder sages have doubtless existed in the history of the English race, perhaps in our own country, but not one who to great excellence in the threefold composition of man, the physical, intellectual, and moral, has added such exalted integrity, such unaffected piety, such unsullied purity of soul, and such wondrous control of his own spirit. He illustrated and adorned the civilization of Christianity, and furnished an example of the wisdom and perfection of its teachings which the subtlest arguments of its enemies cannot impeach. That one grand, rounded life, full-orbed with intellectual and moral glory, is worth, as the product of Christianity, more than all the dogmas of all the teachers. The youth of America who aspire to promote their own and their country's welfare should never cease to gaze upon his great example, or to remember that the brightest gems in the crown of his immortality, the qualities which uphold his fame on earth and plead for him in heaven, were those which characterized him as the patient, brave, Christian gentleman. In this respect he was a blessing to the whole human race no less than to his own countrymen, to the many millions who annually celebrate the day of his birth.

Such sentiments fitly illustrate the controlling element of character which made the conduct of Washington so peerless in the field and in the chair of state. His first utterances upon assuming command of the American army before Boston, on the 2d of July, 1775, were a rebuke of religious bigotry and an impressive protest against gaming, swearing, and all immoral practices, which might forfeit divine aid in the great struggle for national independence. Succeeding orders, preparatory to the battle of Long Island, in August, 1776, breathe the same spirit,—that which transfused all his activities, as with celestial fire, until he surrendered his commission with a devout and public recognition of Almighty God as the author of his success.

FOOTNOTES:

[19] From the "Patriotic Reader." Lippincott Co.

* * * * *

FROM THE "COMMEMORATION ODE"

World's Columbian Exposition, Chicago, October 21, 1892

BY HARRIET MONROE

WASHINGTON

When dreaming kings, at odds with swift-paced time, Would strike that banner down, A nobler knight than ever writ or rhyme With fame's bright wreath did crown Through armed hosts bore it till it floated high Beyond the clouds, a light that cannot die! Ah, hero of our younger race! Great builder of a temple new! Ruler, who sought no lordly place! Warrior, who sheathed the sword he drew! Lover of men, who saw afar A world unmarred by want or war, Who knew the path, and yet forbore To tread, till all men should implore; Who saw the light, and led the way Where the gray world might greet the day; Father and leader, prophet sure, Whose will in vast works shall endure, How shall we praise him on this day of days, Great son of fame who has no need of praise?

How shall we praise him? Open wide the doors Of the fair temple whose broad base he laid. Through its white halls a shadowy cavalcade Of heroes moves o'er unresounding floors— Men whose brawned arms upraised these columns high, And reared the towers that vanish in the sky,— The strong who, having wrought, can never die.

* * * * *

WASHINGTON'S STATUE

BY HENRY THEODORE TUCKERMAN

The quarry whence thy form majestic sprung Has peopled earth with grace, Heroes and gods that elder bards have sung, A bright and peerless race; But from its sleeping veins ne'er rose before A shape of loftier name Than his, who Glory's wreath with meekness wore, The noblest son of Fame. Sheathed is the sword that Passion never stained; His gaze around is cast, As if the joys of Freedom, newly gained, Before his vision passed; As if a nation's shout of love and pride With music filled the air, And his calm soul was lifted on the tide Of deep and grateful prayer; As if the crystal mirror of his life To fancy sweetly came, With scenes of patient toil and noble strife, Undimmed by doubt or shame; As if the lofty purpose of his soul Expression would betray— The high resolve Ambition to control, And thrust her crown away! O, it was well in marble firm and white To carve our hero's form, Whose angel guidance was our strength in fight, Our star amid the storm! Whose matchless truth has made his name divine And human freedom sure, His country great, his tomb earth's dearest shrine. While man and time endure! And it is well to place his image there Upon the soil he blest: Let meaner spirits, who its councils share, Revere that silent guest! Let us go up with high and sacred love To look on his pure brow, And as, with solemn grace, he points above, Renew the patriot's vow!

TRIBUTES

Extract from an address by President Gary of the Union League Club, at the celebration of Washington's Birthday at the Auditorium, Chicago, February 22, 1900

It is needless to dispute with others as to Washington's rank in minor things. We know that for us and for our country his is the greatest name that lives; that in the grand struggle and march for freedom he was humanity's greatest leader, and that through us as a nation he gave to the world its chiefest example of republican self-government And now that his greatness is acknowledged and his praises sung the world round, our hearts swell with pride and gratitude that he is ours; our countryman; our great American; our Washington. Not the safe and invincible general merely, not the wise first President, but George Washington, the sublime personality, greatest seen when all props and scaffoldings of rank and station are torn away.

* * * * *

From Green's "History of the English People":

No nobler figure ever stood in the forefront of a nation's life. Washington was grave and courteous in address; his manners were simple and unpretending; his silence and the serene calmness of his temper spoke of a perfect self-mastery; but little there was in his outer bearing to reveal the grandeur of soul which lifts his figure with all the simple majesty of an ancient statue, out of the smaller passions, the meaner impulses of the world around him.

It was only as the weary fight went on that the colonists learned, little by little, the greatness of their leader—his clear judgment, his calmness in the hour of danger or defeat; the patience with which he waited, the quickness and hardness with which he struck, the lofty and serene sense of duty that never swerved from its task through resentment or jealousy, that never, through war or peace, felt the touch of a meaner ambition; that knew no aim save that of guarding the freedom of his fellow-countrymen; and no personal longing save that of returning to his own fireside when their freedom was secured.

It was almost unconsciously that men learned to cling to Washington with a trust and faith such as few other men have won, and to regard him with reverence which still hushes us in presence of his memory.

* * * * *

Washington's is the mightiest name of earth—long since mightiest in the cause of civil liberty; still mightiest in moral reformation. On that name no eulogy is expected. It cannot be. To add brightness to the sun, or glory to the name of Washington, is alike impossible. Let none attempt it. In solemn awe pronounce the name, and in its naked deathless splendor leave it shining on.

ABRAHAM LINCOLN.

* * * * *

Washington cannot be stripped of any part of his credit for patriotism, wisdom, and courage; for the union of enterprise with prudence; for integrity and truthfulness; for simply dignity of character; for tact and forbearance in dealing with men; above all for serene fortitude in the darkest hour of his cause, and under trials from the perversity, insubordination, jealousy, and perfidy of those around him, severer than any defeat.

GOLDWIN SMITH.

* * * * *

The life of our Washington cannot 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 have only served to eclipse the majesty of those virtues which made him, from being a modest citizen, a more resplendent luminary.