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, ÆT. 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 Condé, 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 CONDÉ; 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.