Born in Westmoreland County, Va., Feb. 22 (O. S. Feb. 11), 1732: died at Mount Vernon, Dec. 14, 1799. A famous American soldier and statesman, the first President of the United States. He was the son of Augustine Washington, a Virginia planter. He was at school until he was about 16 years of age; was engaged in surveying 1748–51; was appointed adjutant of Virginia troops in 1751; inherited Mount Vernon on the death of his brother in 1752; was made by Dinwiddie commander of a military district of Virginia in 1753; was sent on a mission to the French authorities beyond the Allegheny River 1753–54; was appointed lieutenant-colonel in 1754; had a successful skirmish with the French, and defended Fort Necessity, but was obliged to surrender on July 3; was a volunteer aide-de-camp to Braddock in the battle of the Monongahela in 1755, and brought off the Virginians; commanded on the frontier 1755–57; and led the advance-guard in Forbes’s expedition for the reduction of Fort Duquesne in 1758. On Jan. 9, 1759, he married Martha Custis (widow of Daniel Parke Custis), and settled as a planter at Mount Vernon. He was a delegate to the Virginia House of Burgesses, and to the Continental Congresses of 1774 and 1775; was appointed commander-in-chief of the Continental forces June 15, 1775; arrived at Cambridge July 2, and took command and compelled the evacuation of Boston on March 17, 1776. His army was defeated at the battle of Long Island Aug. 27, 1776, and at White Plains Oct. 28, 1776; he retreated through New Jersey; surprised the Hessians at Trenton Dec. 26; won the victory of Princeton Jan., 1777; was defeated at Brandywine and Germantown in 1777; was at Valley Forge during the winter of 1777–78; fought the drawn battle of Monmouth in 1778; compelled the surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown in 1781; resigned his commission as commander-in-chief at Annapolis in 1783; and retired to Mount Vernon. In 1787 he was president of the Constitutional Convention; was unanimously elected President of the United States in Feb. 1789, and inaugurated at New York April 30, 1789; and was unanimously re-ëlected in 1793, serving until 1797. Among the chief events in his administrations were the establishment of the machinery of government, the crystallization of parties, the regulation of commerce and finance, the admission of Vermont, Kentucky, and Tennessee, the Indian wars, the “whiskey insurrection,” and the Jay treaty. He issued his farewell address to the people in Sept., 1796. He was appointed lieutenant-general and commander-in-chief of the army in anticipation of a war with France in 1798.

Personal

  George Washington, son to Augustine and Mary his wife, was born y^e 11th day of February 1731/2 about ten in the morning, and was baptized the 3d of April following; Mr. Beverly Whiting and Captain Christopher Brooks, godfathers, and Mrs. Mildred Gregory godmother.

  Is Mr. Washington among your acquaintances? If not, I recommend you to embrace the first opportunity to form his friendship. He is about twenty-three years of age; with a countenance both mild and pleasant, promising both wit and judgment. He is of comely and dignified demeanor, at the same time displays much self-reliance and decision. He strikes me as being a young man of extraordinary and exalted character, and is destined to make no inconsiderable figure in our country.

  Washington, the dictator, has shown himself both a Fabius and a Camillus. His march through our lines is allowed to have been a prodigy of generalship. In one word, I look upon a great part of America as lost to this country!

  I have seen General Washington, that most singular man—the soul and support of one of the greatest revolutions that has ever happened, or can happen. I fixed my eyes upon him with that keen attention which the sight of a great man always inspires. We naturally entertain a secret hope of discovering in the features of such illustrious persons some traces of that genius which distinguishes them from, and elevates them above, their fellow mortals. Perhaps the exterior of no man was better calculated to gratify these expectations than that of General Washington. He is of a tall and noble stature, well proportioned, a fine, cheerful, open countenance, a simple and modest carriage; and his whole mien has something in it that interests the French, the Americans, and even enemies themselves in his favor…. His reputation has, at length, arisen to a most brilliant height; and he may now grasp at the most unbounded power, without provoking envy or exciting suspicion. He has ever shown himself superior to fortune, and in the most trying adversity has discovered resources until then unknown: and, as if his abilities only increased and dilated at the prospect of difficulty, he is never better supplied than when he seems destitute of everything, nor have his arms ever been so fatal to his enemies, as at the very instant when they thought they had crushed him forever. It is his to excite a spirit of heroism and enthusiasm in a people who are by nature very little susceptible of it; to gain over the respect and homage of those whose interest it is to refuse it, and to execute his plans and projects by means unknown even to those who are his instruments; he is intrepid in dangers, yet never seeks them but when the good of his country demands it, preferring rather to temporize and act upon the defensive, because he knows such a mode of conduct best suits the genius and circumstances of the nation, and all that he and they have to expect, depends upon time, fortitude, and patience; he is frugal and sober in regard to himself, but profuse in the public cause; like Peter the Great, he has by defeats conducted his army to victory; and like Fabius, but with fewer resources and more difficulty, he has conquered without fighting and saved his country.

  O Washington! how do I love thy name! How have I often adored and blessed thy God, for creating and forming thee the great ornament of human kind!… The world and posterity will, with admiration, contemplate thy deliberate, cool, and stable judgment, thy virtues, thy valor and heroic achievements, as far surpassing those of Cyrus, whom the world loved and adored. The sound of thy fame shall go out into all the earth, and extend to distant ages…. Such has been thy military wisdom in the struggles of this arduous conflict, such the noble rectitude, amiableness, and mansuetude of thy character, something is there so singularly glorious and venerable thrown by Heaven about thee, that not only does thy country love thee, but our very enemies stop the madness of their fire in full volley, stop the illiberality of their slander at thy name, as if rebuked from Heaven with a—“Touch not mine Anointed, and do my Hero no harm!” Thy fame is of sweeter perfume than Arabian spices in the gardens of Persia. A Baron de Steuben shall waft it to a far greater monarch, and diffuse thy renown throughout Europe. Listening angels shall catch the odor, waft it to heaven, and perfume the universe!

  The name of the Deliverer of America alone can stand in the title-page of the tragedy of the Deliverer of Rome.—To you, most excellent and most rare citizen, I therefore dedicate this: without first hinting at even a part of so many praises due to yourself, which I now deem all comprehended in the sole mention of your name.

  My fine crab tree walking stick, with a gold head curiously wrought in the form of the cap of liberty, I give to my friend, and the friend of mankind, General Washington. If it were a sceptre he has merited it; and would become it.

  Illustrious man, deriving honour less from the splendor of his situation than from the dignity of his mind, before whom all borrowed greatness sinks into insignificance, and all the potentates of Europe (excepting the members of our own royal family) become little and contemptible! He has had no occasion to have recourse to any tricks of policy or arts of alarm; his authority has been sufficiently supported by the same means by which it was acquired, and his conduct has uniformly been characterised by wisdom, moderation and firmness.

  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; pious, just, humane, temperate and sincere; 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, nor 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.

  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 declarations 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. Misfortune, had he lived, could hereafter have sullied his glory only with those superficial minds, who, believing that characters 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 enough, to life and 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 councils and actions, as well as over their lives, and 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 Trajan found a Pliny, a Marcus Aurelius can never want biographers, eulogists or historians.

  Born to high destinies, he was fashioned for them by the hand of nature. His form was noble—his port majestic. On his front were enthroned the virtues which exalt, and those which adorn the human character. So dignified his deportment, no man could approach him but with respect—none was great in his presence. You all have seen him, and you all have felt the reverence he inspired; it was such, that to command, seemed to him but the exercise of an ordinary function, while others felt a duty to obey, which (anterior to the injunctions of civil ordinance, or the compulsion of a military code) was imposed by the high behests of nature. He had every title to command—Heaven, in giving him the higher qualities of the soul, had given also the tumultuous passions which accompany greatness, and frequently tarnish its lustre. With them was his first contest, and his first victory was over himself. So great the empire he had there acquired, that calmness of manner and of conduct distinguished him through life. Yet, those who have seen him strongly moved, will bear witness that his wrath was terrible; they have seen boiling in his bosom, passion almost too mighty for man; yet, when just bursting into act, that strong passion was controlled by his stronger mind.

  Washington is no more! The tomb has claimed him who was the model of Republican perfection. This is not the time to trace all that this truly great man has accomplished for the liberties of America, the number and importance of military achievements, the generous inspirations which he imparted to the French who were attracted to his school of arms; the sublime act which will ever add lustre to his memory, when, after exerting his talents in giving liberty to his country, he voluntarily relinquished supreme power to conceal his glory in the obscurity of private life.

  There was indeed in this patriot something that all felt, but could not describe. A strength of understanding, a keenness of perception, a loftiness of thought, that convinced without argument, and subdued without effort. His language, like his carriage, was impressive, elegant and manly. It had secured a grace beyond the reach of rhetoric; it had created an illumination beyond the coloring of metaphor. His integrity overruled persuasion; and his majesty overawed sophistry. Corruption stood abashed in his presence, and venality blushed into shame. The administration caught the character of their leader, and seconded the energies of his irresistible influence.

  There has scarcely appeared a really great man whose character has been more admired in his lifetime, or less correctly understood by his admirers. When it is comprehended, it is no easy task to delineate its excellence in such a manner as to give to the portrait both interest and resemblance; for it requires thought and study to understand the true ground of the superiority of his character over many others, whom he resembled in the principles of an action, and even in the manner of acting. But perhaps he excels all the great men that ever lived, in the steadiness of his adherence to his maxims of life, and in the uniformity of all his conduct to the same maxims…. His talents were such as assist a sound judgment, and ripen with it. His prudence was consummate, and seemed to take the direction of his powers and passions; for as a soldier, he was more solicitous to avoid mistakes that might be fatal, than to perform exploits that are brilliant; and as a statesman, to adhere to just principles, however old, than to pursue novelties; and therefore, in both characters, his qualities were singularly adapted to the interest, and were tried in the greatest perils, of the country.

  Born to direct the destiny of empires, his character was as majestic as the events, to which it was attached, were illustrious. In the delineation of its features, the vivid pencil of genius cannot brighten a trait, nor the blighting breath of a calumny obscure. His principles were the result of organic philosophy,—his success, of moral justice. His integrity assumed the port of command,—his intelligence, the aspect of inspiration. Glory, to many impregnable, he obtained without ambition; popularity, to all inconstant, he enjoyed without jealousy. The one was his from admiration, the other from gratitude. The former embellished, but could not reward; the latter followed, but never could lead him. The robust vigor of his virtue, like the undazzled eye of the eagle, was inaccessible to human weakness; and the unaspiring temperament of his passions, like the regenerating ashes of the phœnix, gave new life to the greatness it could not extinguish. In the imperial dignity of his person was exhibited the august stature of his mind.

  There was in him that assemblage of qualities which constitutes real greatness; and these qualities were remarkably adapted to the conspicuous part which he was called to perform. He was not tinsel, but gold; not a pebble, but a diamond; not a meteor but a sun. Were he compared with the sages from the Neroes of antiquity, he would gain by the comparison, or rather, he would be found to be free from the blemishes, and to unite the excellencies of them all. Like Fabius, he was prudent; like Hannibal, he was unappalled by difficulties; like Cyrus, he conciliated affection; like Cimon, he was frugal; like Philopemon, he was humble; and like Pompey, he was successful. If we compare him with characters in the Sacred Records, he combined the exploits of Moses and Joshua, not only by conducting us safely across the Red Sea, and through the wilderness, but by bringing us into the promised land; like David, he conquered an insulting Goliath, and rose to the highest honors from an humble station; like Hezekiah, he ruled, and like Josiah at his death, there is a mourning “as the mourning of Hadadrimmon, in the valley of Megiddon.” Nor is the mourning confined to us, but extends to all the wise and good who ever heard of his name. The Generals whom he opposed will wrap their hilts in black, and stern Cornwallis drop a tear.

  If Washington possessed ambition, that passion was, in his bosom, so regulated by principles, or controlled by circumstances, that it was neither vicious, nor turbulent. Intrigue was never employed as the means of its gratification, nor was personal aggrandizement its object. The various high and important stations to which he was called by the public voice, were unsought by himself; and, in consenting to fill them, he seems rather to have yielded to a general conviction that the interests of his country would be thereby promoted, than to an avidity for power…. Endowed by nature with a sound judgment, and an accurate discriminating mind, he feared not that laborious attention which made him perfectly master of those subjects, in all their relations, on which he was to decide: and this essential quality was guided by an unvarying sense of moral right, which would tolerate the employment, only, of those means that would bear the most rigid examination; by a fairness of intention which neither sought nor required disguise: and by a purity of virtue which was not only untainted, but unsuspected.

  He was as fortunate as great and good. Under his auspices, a civil war was conducted with mildness, and a revolution with order. Raised himself above the influence of popular passions, he happily directed these passions to the most useful purposes. Uniting the talents of the soldier with the qualifications of the statesman, and pursuing, unmoved by difficulties, the noblest end by the purest means, he had the supreme satisfaction of beholding the complete success of his great military and civil services, in the independence and happiness of his country.

  Of these private deeds of Washington very little has been said. In most of the elegant orations pronounced to his praise, you see nothing of Washington below the clouds—nothing of Washington the dutiful son—the affectionate brother—the cheerful school-boy—the diligent surveyor—the neat draftsman—the laborious farmer—the widow’s husband—the orphan’s father—the poor man’s friend. No! this is not the Washington you see; ’tis only Washington, the HERO, and the Demigod—Washington the sun-beam in council, or the storm in war.

  Washington had a large thick nose, and it was very red that day, giving me the impression that he was not so moderate in the use of liquors as he was supposed to be. I found afterward that this was a peculiarity. His nose was apt to turn scarlet in a cold wind. He was standing near a small camp-fire, evidently lost in thought and making no effort to keep warm. He seemed six feet and a half in height, was as erect as an Indian, and did not for a moment relax from a military attitude. Washington’s exact height was six feet two inches in his boots. He was then a little lame from striking his knee against a tree. His eye was so gray that it looked almost white, and he had a troubled look on his colorless face. He had a piece of woollen tied around his throat and was quite hoarse. Perhaps the throat trouble from which he finally died had its origin about then. Washington’s boots were enormous. They were number 13. His ordinary walking-shoes were number 11. His hands were large in proportion, and he could not buy a glove to fit him and had to have his gloves made to order. His mouth was his strong feature, the lips being always tightly compressed. That day they were compressed so tightly as to be painful to look at. At that time he weighed two hundred pounds, and there was no surplus flesh about him. He was tremendously muscled, and the fame of his great strength was everywhere…. His lungs were his weak point, and his voice was never strong. He was at that time in the prime of life. His hair was a chestnut brown, his cheeks were prominent, and his head was not large in contrast to every other part of his body, which seemed large and bony at all points. His finger-joints and wrists were so large as to be genuine curiosities. As to his habits at that period I found out much that might be interesting. He was an enormous eater, but was content with bread and meat, if he had plenty of it. But hunger seemed to put him in a rage. It was his custom to take a drink of rum or whiskey on awakening in the morning. Of course all this was changed when he grew old. I saw him at Alexandria a year before he died. His hair was very gray, and his form was slightly bent. His chest was very thin. He had false teeth, which did not fit and pushed his under lip outward.

  Perhaps the strongest feature in his character was prudence, never acting until every circumstance, every consideration, was maturely weighed; refraining if he saw a doubt, but, when once decided, going through with his purpose, whatever obstacles opposed. His integrity was most pure, his justice the most inflexible I have ever known…. On the whole, his character was in its mass, perfect; in nothing bad, in few points indifferent; and it may truly be said, that never 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. For his was the singular destiny and merit, of leading the armies of his country successfully through an arduous war, for the establishment of its independence; of conducting its councils through the birth of a government, new in its forms and principles, until it had settled down into a quiet and orderly train; and of scrupulously obeying the laws through the whole of his career, civil and military, of which the history of the world furnishes no other example.

  Dilke, whom you know to be a Godwin-perfectibility man, pleases himself with the idea that America will be the country to take up the human intellect where England leaves off. I differ there with him greatly: a country like the United States, whose greatest men are Franklins and Washingtons, will never do that: they are great men doubtless; but how are they to be compared to those, our countrymen, Milton and the two Sidneys? The one is a philosophical Quaker, full of mean and thrifty maxims; the other sold the very charger who had taken him through all his battles.

  Washington is another of our perfect characters; to me a most limited, uninteresting sort. The thing is not only to avoid error, but to attain immense masses of truth. The ultra-sensual surrounds the sensual and gives it meaning, as eternity does time. Do I understand this? Yes, partly, I do.

  The disinterested virtue, prophetic wisdom, and imperturbable fortitude of Washington.

  On my return to Philadelphia in May, 1796, I saw for the first time, in company with my father and uncle, Stuart’s portrait. We all agreed that although beautifully painted, and touched in a masterly style, as a likeness it was inferior to its merit as a painting—the complexion being too fair and florid, the forehead too flat, eyebrows too high, eyes too full, nose too broad, about the mouth too much inflated, and the neck too long. Such were the criticisms made by artists and others during the life time of Washington. This is truth, and should be a matter of history. After the death of Washington, it was my opinion and deep-felt regret that there existed no portrait which characteristically recorded the countenance of that great man. With the hope, therefore, of finding something that would at least gratify my own feelings, I made many attempts to combine in a separate picture what I conceived to be the merits of my father’s and my own studies, and with various success, always to gratify some willing purchaser, but never to satisfy myself, till the seventeenth trial, which resulted, under extraordinary excitements, in accomplishing the portrait which is now in the Senate chamber at Washington. These efforts were solely to gratify my own feelings and admiration of the character of the great original; and I had every right to do so, without reference to any other artist’s claim.

  He is eminently conspicuous as one of the great benefactors of the human race, for he not only gave liberty to millions, but his name now stands, and will for ever stand, a noble example of high and low. He is a great work of the Almighty Artist, which none can study without receiving purer ideas and more lofty conceptions of the grace and beauty of the human character. He is one that all may copy at different distances, and whom none can contemplate without receiving lasting and salutary impressions of the sterling value, the inexpressible beauty of piety, integrity, courage, and patriotism, associated with a clear, vigorous, and well-poised intellect…. He is already become the saint of liberty, which has gathered new honours by being associated with his name; and when men aspire to free nations, they must take him for their model.

  To the historian, indeed, there are few characters that appear so little to have shared the common frailties and imperfections of human nature; there are but few particulars that can be mentioned even to his disadvantage. It is understood, for instance, that he was once going to commit an important mistake as a general in the field; but he had at least the very great merit of listening to Lee (a man whom he could not like, and who was even his rival), and of not committing the mistake.

  However, to say nothing of eloquence, Washington had not those brilliant and extraordinary qualities, which strike the imagination of men at the first glance. He did not belong to the class of men of vivid genius, who pant for an opportunity of display, are impelled by great thoughts or great passions, and diffuse around them the wealth of their own natures, before any outward occasion or necessity calls for its employment. Free from all internal restlessness, and the promptings and pride of ambition, Washington did not seek opportunities to distinguish himself, and never aspired to the admiration of the world. This spirit, so resolute, this heart so lofty, was profoundly calm and modest. Capable of rising to a level with the highest destiny, he might have lived in ignorance of his real power, without suffering from it, and have found, in the cultivation of his estates, a satisfactory employment for those energetic faculties, which were to be proved equal to the task of commanding armies and founding a government. But, when the opportunity presented itself, when the exigence occurred, without effort on his part, without any surprise on the part of others, indeed rather, as we have just seen, in conformity with their expectations the prudent planter stood forth a great man. He had, in a remarkable degree, those two qualities which, in active life, make men capable of great things. He could confide strongly in his own views, and act resolutely in conformity with them, without fearing to assume the responsibility.

  The nearest approach to universality of genius in intellect is Shakspeare; in will, Napoleon; in harmony of combination, Washington. It is singular that Washington is not generally classed among men of genius. Lord Brougham declares him to be the greatest man that ever lived, but of moderate talents,—as if being the soul of a revolution and the creator of a country did not suppose energies equal to those employed in the creation of a poem,—as if there were any other certain test of genius but its influence, any other measure of the power of a cause but the magnitude of its effects!

  The picture of a man beside whom, considered physically, any English nobleman whom I have seen would look like common clay.

  The character of Washington may want some of those political elements which dazzle and delight the multitude, but it possessed fewer inequalities and a rarer union of virtues than perhaps ever fell to the lot of one man. Prudence, firmness, sagacity, moderation, and overruling judgment, an immovable justice, courage that never faltered, patience that never wearied, truth that disdained all artifice, magnanimity without alloy. It seems that if Providence had endowed him in a preëminent degree with the qualities requisite to fit him for the high destiny he was called upon to fulfil…. The fame of Washington stands apart from every name in history: shining with a truer light and more benignant glory.

  History, which shows us many a more dazzling character, shows none so grandly consistent, so splendid in disinterestedness, so free from conceit, yet so determined in duty, so true and tender in friendship, yet able to put aside every personal consideration when the good of the country and the great cause of Freedom were in question. What manner of people ought we to be in return for this great gift? Let us bless God that America, having produced one such son, may bring forth others like him, when the day of trial shall come, as it may come, even to us, favored as we are above all the nations of the earth. There is more hope, not less, of another Washington, from having had the first.

  In his person, Washington was six feet high, and rather slender. His limbs were long; his hands were uncommonly large, his chest broad and full, his head was exactly round, and the hair brown in manhood, but gray at fifty; his forehead rather low and retreating, the nose large and massy, the mouth wide and firm, the chin square and heavy, the cheeks full and ruddy in early life. His eyes were blue and handsome, but not quick or nervous. He required spectacles to read with at fifty. He was one of the best riders in the United States, but, like some other good riders, awkward and shambling in his walk. He was stately in his bearing, reserved, distant, and apparently haughty. Shy among women, he was not a great talker in any company, but a careful observer and listener. He read the natural temper of men, but not always aright. He seldom smiled. He did not laugh with his face, but in his body, and while calm above, below the diaphragm his laughter was copious and earnest. Like many grave persons, he was fond of jokes and loved humorous stories. He had negro story-tellers to regale him with fun and anecdotes at Mount Vernon. He was not critical about his food, but fond of tea. He took beer or cider at dinner, and occasionally wine. He hated drunkenness, gaming, and tobacco. He had a hearty love of farming, and of private life. There was nothing of the politician in him, no particle of cunning. He was one of the most industrious of men. Not an elegant or accurate writer, he yet took great pains with style, and, after the Revolution, carefully corrected the letters he had written in the time of the French War, more than thirty years before. He was no orator, like Jefferson, Franklin, Madison, and others, who had great influence in American affairs. He never made a speech…. Cromwell is the greatest Anglo-Saxon who was ever a ruler on a large scale. In intellect, he was immensely superior to Washington; in integrity, immeasurably below him. For one thousand years no king in Christendom has shown such greatness, or gives us so high a type of manly virtue. He never dissembled. He sought nothing for himself. In him there was no unsound spot; nothing little or mean in his character. The whole was clean and presentable. We think better of mankind because he lived, adorning the earth with a life so noble…. God be thanked for such a man.

  Upon the banks of the Potomac, which for four years have been swept by the desolating storms of war, where tens of thousands of the bravest sons of the Republic have gone down in the shock of fratricidal strife, is one sacred spot in the presence of which war has forgotten its passion, and assumed, for the moment, the virtues of white-robed Peace. A simple tomb there marks the place where Liberty has erected her chosen altar on this earth. Thanks be to God that every American heart that pulsates lovingly towards the Father of his Country—and whose does not?—may claim that altar for his own! Let us, on this day, with reverent step and worshipful feeling, approach it with votive offerings. Let us come as Americans, who still have one country and one destiny, and unite with our countrymen all over the globe, in acts of grateful commemoration. In this land, united to our own by the most cherished traditions, and which from mothers’ lips we learned to love, let us unite in devout thanksgiving, that the Temple of Liberty erected by Washington and his compeers, stands to-day, after its fiery trial, more firm in its foundations, more fair in its beauty, its portals thrown more widely open for the solace and refuge of humanity.

  To the appointment of Washington, far more than to any other single circumstance, is due the ultimate success of the American Revolution, though in purely intellectual powers, Washington was certainly inferior to Franklin, and perhaps to two or three of his colleagues…. His mind was not quick or remarkably original. His conversation had no brilliancy or wit. He was entirely without the gift of eloquence, and he had very few accomplishments. He knew no language but his own, and except for a rather strong turn for mathematics, he had no taste which can be called purely intellectual. There was nothing in him of the meteor or the cataract, nothing that either dazzled or overpowered. A courteous and hospitable country gentleman, a skilful farmer, a very keen sportsman, he probably differed little in taste and habits from the better members of the class to which he belonged; and it was in a great degree in the administration of a large estate and in assiduous attention to county and provincial business that he acquired his rare skill in reading and managing men.

  Of Washington we know at least that as he gave himself without reserve to the welfare of his country, as neither ambition or any personal object animated him, so his happiness could not have been exposed to the causes which afflict the aspiring and self-seeking; that as he was not a man of genius, so he did not suffer the pains of genius; and that all the enduring satisfaction which great deeds, wise counsels, and disinterested services can give to the heart of man must have been his.

  George Washington is now a cold statue enshrouded in Fourth of July smoke; he is a teashop chromo and a character that seldom is dragged from unused histories except to be belittled by comparison with some smaller man of later days. While he lived, Washington was a warm-blooded, clear-headed, clean-hearted man, a hard-working farmer, a conscientious employer, a loyal husband, a hearty friend, an unselfish soldier, an honest neighbor, a stout-hearted patriot, a jolly good fellow and a consistent Christian. He paid close attention to whatever was going on about him or within his means of information, was superior to prejudice and partiality, and apparently believed that any man could do anything upon which he set his mind.

  The world has done ample justice to the character of Washington. His own countrymen, after death had put its solemn seal upon his career and services, did him more than justice, and all but idolised his memory. He was not great in the highest sense of the word. He was not brilliant. He was not even successful, except by aids which he could not have anticipated, and which it would have been better for the self-love of his country if he had never accepted. He wore out evil fortune mainly by the incapability which he shared with the English, from whom he sprang, of never knowing when he was beaten, and by the dogged pertinacity and perseverance which are characteristics of the race. He was essentiality a good man; and though subject to occasional fits of violence, was cautious, prudent, just, honourable, unwearied in the pursuit of the right, and inflexible in his adherence to it when discovered. He was a man of his age—a little in advance of it, perhaps, but never so much in advance of it as to incur the reproach of being rash, impracticable, or Utopian. Living, he attracted but little love—as little as Aristides the Just; but dead, he commanded the admiration of Europe and the affectionate veneration of America, as one, “who was first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen.”

  The stately column that stretches heavenward from the plain whereon we stand bears witness to all who behold it, that the covenant which our fathers made, their children have fulfilled. In the completion of this great work of patriotic endeavor there is abundant cause for national rejoicing, for while this structure shall endure it shall be to all mankind a steadfast token for the affectionate and reverent regard in which this people continue to hold the memory of Washington. Well may he ever keep the foremost place in the hearts of his countrymen.

  Washington stands alone and unapproachable, like a snow peak rising above its fellows into the clear air of morning, with a dignity, constancy, and purity which have made him the ideal type of civic virtue to succeeding generations. No greater benefit could have befallen the republic than to have such a type set from the first, before the eye and mind of the people.

  “The American Fabius.” “The Atlas of America.” “The Cincinnatus of the West.” “The Deliverer of America.” “The Father of his Country.” “The Flower of the Forest.” “The Lovely Georgius.”

  He was not perhaps exactly joyous or gay of nature, but he had a contented and happy disposition, and, like all robust, well-balanced men, he possessed strong animal spirits and a keen sense of enjoyment. He loved a wild, open-air life, and was devoted to rough out-door sports. He liked to wrestle and run, to shoot, ride or dance, and to engage in all trials of skill and strength, for which his great muscular development suited him admirably. With such tastes, it followed almost as a matter of course that he loved laughter and fun. Good, hearty country fun, a ludicrous mishap, a practical joke, all merriment of a simple, honest kind, were highly congenial to him, especially in his youth and early manhood…. He knew human nature well, and had a smile for its little weaknesses when they came to his mind. It was this same human sympathy which made him also love amusements of all sorts; but he was as little their slave as their enemy. No man ever carried great burdens with a higher or more serious spirit, but his cares never made him forbidding, nor rendered him impatient of the pleasure of others…. He had, indeed, in all ways a thoroughly well-balanced mind and temper. In great affairs he knew how to spare himself the details to which others could attend as well as he, and yet he was in no wise a despiser of small things…. He did not have the poetical and imaginative quality so strongly developed in Lincoln. Yet he was not devoid of imagination, although it was here that he was lacking, if anywhere. He saw facts, knew them, mastered and used them, and never gave much play to fancy; but as his business in life was with men and facts, this deficiency, if it was one, was of little moment…. I see in Washington a great soldier who fought a trying war to a successful end impossible without him; a great statesman who did more than all other men to lay the foundations of a republic which has endured in prosperity for more than a century. I find in him a marvellous judgment which was never at fault, a penetrating vision which beheld the future of America when it was dim to other eyes, a great intellectual force, a will of iron, an unyielding grasp of facts, and an unequaled strength of patriotic purpose. I see in him too a pure high-minded gentleman of dauntless courage and stainless honor, simple and stately of manner, kind and generous of heart.

  We always gladly concede that Washington was good, but we are not always so sure that he was great. But a man’s greatness is measured by his service to mankind. If, without ambition and without crime, righteously to lead a people to independence through a righteous war; then, without precedent and amid vast and incalculable hostile forces, to organize their government, and establish in every department the fundamental principles of the policy which has resulted in marvellous national power and prosperity, and untold service to liberty throughout the world; and to do all this without suspicion or reproach, with perfect dignity and sublime repose,—if this be greatness, do you find it more in Alexander or Pericles, Cæsar or Alfred, in Charlemagne or Napoleon Bonaparte, or in George Washington? As this majestic arch will stand here, through the long succession of years, in the all-revealing light of day, visible at every point and at every point exquisitely rounded and complete, so in the searching light of history stands Washington, strong, simple, symmetrical, supreme, beloved by a filial nation, revered by a grateful world.

  Let us thank God that he has lived, and that he has given to us the highest and best example of American citizenship. And let us especially be grateful that we have this sacred memory, which spanning time, vicissitude, and unhappy alienation, calls us together in sincere fellowship and brotherly love on “The birthday of George Washington.”

  Washington was to the confederacy all in all. Without him it would have been ten times lost, and the names of the politicians who had drawn the country into the conflict would have gone down to posterity linked with defeat and shame. History has hardly a stronger case of an indispensable man. His form, like all other forms of the revolution, has no doubt been seen through a golden haze of panegyric. We can hardly number among the greatest captains a general who acted on so small a scale and who, though he was the soul of the war, never won a battle…. Carlyle, who threatened “to take George down a peg or two,” might have made good his threat. But he could not have stripped Washington of any part of his credit for patriotism, wisdom and courage; for the union of enterprise with prudence; for integrity and truthfulness; for simple 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…. Wellington might be more of an aristocrat than Washington, less of a democrat he could hardly be. Washington insisted that his officers should be gentlemen, not men fit to be shoe-blacks. He drew a most undemocratic distinction between the officer and the private soldier.

  He had the English feeling of never knowing when he was beaten; and his own courageous enthusiasm finally infected the men whom he led. His personal influence was greater than any leader on his side. Lee and Gates might have had a certain amount of romantic enthusiasm attached to them when successful, but when they failed their influence failed too. Through success and failure, through want and privation, as well as through victory, Washington, the only general of them all who never left his men through the weary years of war, even to go to his beloved home, save on two brief occasions, won year by year their increasing reverence and regard. It was this that made George Washington one of the leaders of military history. A leader of men; not from victories in the field, but from that higher and nobler leadership of being their sympathetic comrade through pain and toil as well as through success, which is rarer than generalship.

  There have been three distinct eras in Washington-olatry. The generation which fought the Revolution, framed and adopted the Constitution, and established the United States were impressed with the most profound veneration, the most devoted affection, the most absolute idolatry for the hero, sage, statesman. In the reaction that came in the next generation against “the old soldiers,” who for thirty years had assumed all the honors and enjoyed all the fruits of the victory that they had won, accelerated by the division in American sentiment for or against the French Revolution, it came to be felt, as the younger generation always will feel, that the achievements of the veterans had been greatly overrated and their demigod enormously exaggerated. They thought, as English Harry did at Agincourt, that “Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot, but they’ll remember with advantages what feats they did that day.” The fierce attacks of the Jeffersonian Democracy on Washington, his principles, his life, and his habits, exercised a potent influence in diminishing the general respect for his abilities felt by the preceding generation; and Washington came to be regarded as a worthy, honest, well-meaning gentleman, but with no capacity for military and only mediocre ability in civil affairs. The estimate continued from the beginning of Jefferson’s administration to the first of Grant’s. Neither Marshall nor Irving did much during that period to place him in a proper historical light. The official and judicial statement of the case by Chief Justice Marshall never reached the popular ear, and the laudatory style of Washington Irving did not impress the popular conviction. But in the last twenty-five years there has been a steady drift toward giving Washington his proper place in history and his appropriate appreciation as soldier and statesman. The general who never won a battle is now understood to have been the Revolution itself, and one of the great generals of history. The statesman who never made a motion, nor devised a measure, nor constructed a proposition in the convention of which he was president, is appreciated as the spirit, the energy, the force, the wisdom which initiated, organized, and directed the formation of the Constitution of the United States and the Union by, through, and under it; and therefore it seems now possible to present him as the Virginian soldier, gentleman, and planter, as a man, the evolution of the society of which he formed a part, representative of his epoch, and his surroundings, developed by circumstances into the greatest character of all time—the first and most illustrious of Americans.

  There can be no doubt that Washington during the whole of his life had a soft heart for women, and especially for good-looking ones, and both in his personal intercourse and in his letters he shows himself very much more at ease with them than in his relations with his own sex…. The question whether Washington was a faithful husband might be left to the facts already given, were it not that stories of his immorality are bandied about in clubs, a well-known clergyman has vouched for their truth, and a United States senator has given further currency to them by claiming special knowledge on the subjects. Since such are the facts, it seems best to consider the question and show what evidence there actually is for these stories, that at least the pretended “letters,” etc., which are always being cited, and are never produced, may no longer have credence put in them, and the true basis for all the stories may be known and valued at its worth.

  Washington hardly seems an American, as most of his biographers depict him. He is too colorless, too cold, too prudent. He seems more like a wise and dispassionate Mr. Alworthy, advising a nation as he would a parish, than like a man building states and marshaling a nation in a wilderness. But the real Washington was as thoroughly an American as Jackson or Lincoln. What we take for lack of passion in him was but the reserve and self-mastery natural to a man of his class and breeding in Virginia. He was no parlor politician, either. He had seen the frontier, and far beyond it where the French forts lay. He knew the rough life of the country as few other men could. His thoughts did not live at Mount Vernon. He knew difficulty as intimately and faced it always with as quiet a mastery as William the Silent.

  I know of no instance in which sectional feelings disturbed his impartiality, nor do I know of a single Southern or Virginia statesman with whom he can be grouped. One reason of this is obvious—he was that rara avis in those days, a self-made Virginian; for in his early years he was thrown largely on his own resources. This was not the case with the other great Virginians of the Revolution, save Patrick Henry; and Henry’s career showed traces of the shiftlessness that nearly always accompanied Virginian poverty. Washington, then, was always something more than a Virginian or a Southerner. He has always belonged to America and the nation; yet I do not think he could have developed all the features of his rounded character anywhere else than in the Virginia of the eighteenth century.

  Of the many thousand victims of these heroic methods, the most illustrious was George Washington, who, but for medical treatment, might probably have lived a dozen or fifteen years into the nineteenth century. When Washington in full vigour found that he had caught a very bad cold he sent for the doctors, and meanwhile had half a pint of blood taken from him by one of his overseers. Of the three physicians in attendance, one was his dear friend, the good Scotchman, Dr. James Craik, “who from forty years’ experience,” said Washington, “is better qualified than a dozen of them put together.” His colleague, Dr. Elisha Dick, said, “Do not bleed the General; he needs all his strength.” But tradition prevailed over common sense, and three copious bleedings followed, in the last of which a quart of blood was taken. The third attendant, Dr. Gustavus Brown, afterwards expressed bitter regret that Dr. Dick’s advice was not followed. Besides this wholesale bleeding, the patient was dosed with calomel and tartar emetic and scarified with blisters and poultices; or, as honest Tobias Lear said, in a letter written the next day announcing the fatal result, “every medical assistance was offered, but without the desired effect.”

Farewell Address

  When last in Philadelphia, you mentioned to me your wish, that I should redress a certain paper which you had prepared. As it is important that a thing of this kind should be done with great care, and much at leisure touched and retouched, I submit a wish, that, as soon as you have given it the body you mean it to have, it may be sent to me.

  Even if you should think it best to throw the whole into a different form, let me request, notwithstanding, that my draught may be returned to me (along with yours) with such amendments and corrections as to render it as perfect as the formation is susceptible of; curtailed if too verbose; and relieved of all tautology not necessary to enforce the ideas in the original or quoted part. My wish is that the whole may appear in a plain style, and be handed to the public in an honest, unaffected, simple garb.

  With respect to his farewell address, to the authorship of which, it seems, there are conflicting claims, I can state to you some facts. He had determined to decline re-election at the end of his first term, and so far determined, that he had requested Mr. Madison to prepare for him something Valedictory, to be addressed to his constituents on his retirement. This was done, but he was finally persuaded to acquiesce in a second election, to which no one more strenuously pressed him than myself, from a conviction of the importance of strengthening, by longer habit, the respect necessary for that office, which the weight of his character only could effect. When, at the end of his second term, his valedictory came out, Mr. Madison recognized in it several passages of his draught, several others, we were both satisfied, were from the pen of Hamilton, and others from that of the President himself. These he probably put into the hands of Hamilton to form into a whole, and hence it may all appear in Hamilton’s hand-writing, as if it were all his composition.

  Washington’s Farewell Address is full of truths important at all times, and particularly deserving consideration at the present. With a sagacity which brought the future before him, and made it like the present, he saw and pointed out the dangers that even at this moment most imminently threaten us. I hardly know how a greater service of that kind could now be done to the community, than by a renewed and wide diffusion of that admirable paper, and an earnest invitation to every man in the country to reperuse and consider it. Its political maxims are invaluable; its exhortations to love of country and to brotherly affection among citizens, touching; and the solemnity with which it urges the observance of moral duties, and impresses the power of religious obligation, gives to it the highest character of truly disinterested, sincere, parental advice.

  This composition is not unworthy of him, for it is comprehensive, provident, affectionate, and wise.

  The document was in every respect a masterly production, and formed a fitting close to Washington’s official career.

  Although no claim seems to have been made for it, Madison has clearly a share with Hamilton in any honor arising from its literary merit. It is to Hamilton’s credit that he used Madison’s introductory, since it could hardly be improved upon; and this shows that he was not seeking fame for himself in rendering Washington the assistance requested. If the inception of the address and the substance of it were Washington’s, and the literary style was largely that of Madison, what was there in it, it may be asked, that was the distinctive work of Hamilton? While the draft prepared by Washington was more than a desultory enumeration of precepts, recommendations, and warnings, while it embodied his thought and feeling upon the subjects touched with some method, and in language dignified and forceful, it was not yet, in form and finish, such a paper as he intended his Farewell Address to be. It was for Hamilton to “form anew,” to “redress,” and “much at leisure, touch and retouch.” His work was that of the lapidary upon the diamond. It was his to transform the draft of Washington, and to reproduce from it a luminous and unique gem which, as a public paper, should, as he said, “wear well, progress in approbation with time, and redound to future reputation.” He brought to bear upon that labor the yearning of a patriotic heart and the vast resources of a trained and logical mind…. Authorship, in its restricted literary sense, is not a term properly applicable to the Farewell Address, unless joint authorship be accredited to all who in any way participated in it. The thought and the expression of Washington, Madison, and Hamilton were singularly intermingled in it, besides some suggestions by Judge Jay, to whom, at Washington’s request, it was on one occasion shown. But the origin of the Address was not in Madison, Hamilton, or Jay. Whatever their subsequent contributions may have been, the Address did not generate in either of them. It was conceived in the mind, and nurtured in the heart, of Washington. Not only did he conceive the intention and nurture the desire to deliver a parting message to his countrymen, but he selected and determined the subjects he intended to press upon their consideration…. Great honor is due to Hamilton and Madison for eminent services in the preparation of the Farewell Address; but the evidence is conclusive that Washington was, in the only applicable sense of the term, the author of it.

General

  In his letters he is plain; in his public addresses elegant; in all he is correct, expressing in a small compass his clear conception, without tiresome nervosity or any parade of ornament. In attending to what has fallen from his pen the connection between modes of thinking and writing, between character and composition, is apparent. His writings are worded with the strong and pleasing features of sincerity, simplicity and dignity.

  That he wrote in his own hand all his official letters during the Revolution, it would be as preposterous to suppose, as that Marlborough, or Bonaparte, or Wellington, or any other great commander, was the penman of all the letters to which he subscribed his name. Compositions of this kind are not adduced as evidences of the genius, the rhetorical ingenuity, the brilliant fancy, the felicitous invention, or the literary accomplishments of the persons, whose name they bear. The value to be attached to them, and the high consideration, which they justly claim, are derived from the circumstance of their being records of great events, expressing the opinions and unfolding the designs of men, in whose conduct and motives the destinies of nations are involved. They are the highest and purest fountains of history, and by whatever hand the written language is constructed, the spirit and substance, the principles, facts, arguments, and purposes, must necessarily be considered as flowing from him by whose name they are sanctioned, he is responsible for the whole; his character and reputation, as well as the vital interests of the cause entrusted to him, are at stake.

  We deem it unnecessary to make any extracts from the correspondence, as specimens of its style or substantial character. It is more valuable as materials for history, and as illustrating the character of the writer, than from the intrinsic interest of the contents, which relate in general to matters of mere detail. It has all the prominent qualities of the subsequent revolutionary correspondence, and exhibits a complete maturity of mind, as well as style. The latter was probably somewhat improved by revision at a later period of life.

  The character of the author transcends all vulgar praise. The interest of the events, which form the subjects of his writings, is inferior to nothing in history…. We consider the publication of a standard edition of the writings of Washington, as a matter of importance in a national point of view. Of the auspicious influence of the principles of Washington over public opinion throughout the country, which happily is still highly operative, much must be ascribed to the unexpended force of his personal ascendency and the freshly-remembered power of his personal intercourse. These, with the lapse of time, must daily grow fainter.

  The name of Washington may be introduced in a collection of American literature, rather to grace it than to do honor to him. In any strict sense of the word, Washington was not a literary man; he never exercised his mind in composition on any of those topics abstracted from common life, or its affairs, which demanded either art or invention. He prepared no book of elaborate industry.—Yet he was always scrupulously attentive to the claims of literature; elegant and punctilious in the acknowledgment of compliments from authors and learned institutions; and had formed a style which is so peculiar that it may be recognised by its own ear-mark…. The handwriting of Washington, large, liberal, and flowing, might be accepted as proof of the honesty of the figures. Indeed this same handwriting is a capital index of the style of all the letters, and may help us to what we would say of its characteristics. It is open, manly, and uniform, with nothing minced, affected, or contracted. It has neither the precise nor the slovenly style which scholars variously fall into; but a certain grandeur of the countenance of the man seems to look through it. Second to its main quality of truthfulness, saying no more than the writer was ready to abide by, is its amenity and considerate courtesy. Washington had, at different times, many unpleasant truths to tell; but he could always convey them in the language of a gentleman. He wrote like a man of large and clear views…. In fine, a critical examination of the writings of Washington will show that the man here, as in other lights, will suffer nothing by a minute inspection.

  The writings of Washington produced chiefly in the camp surrounded by the din of arms, are remarkable for clearness of expression, force of language, and a tone of lofty patriotism. They are second to none of similar character in any nation, and they display powers which, had they been devoted to literature, would have achieved a position of no secondary character.

  In the letters and documents known to be his, his style is simple, direct, and explicit, but bald and fragmentary. Successive ideas were arranged by no rhetorical plan, in no logical order, and with no continuous flow of diction, but jotted down abruptly, and without connective clauses, as they occurred spontaneously to his mind, or were called up by casual associations. His military training, and his incessantly busy life through the entire period in which the graces of diction might have been cultivated, precluded the abundant leisure and the careful practice by which alone he could have become a master of sentences, as he was of noble deeds.

  He has been edited into obscurity, like a Greek play. Where the genial and friendly soldier wrote “Old Put,” a respectable editor, devoid of the sense of humor, has substituted General Putman; until, at length, a lover of the man has to defend him against the charge of perfection.

  Washington himself claims direct personal recognition in the field of letters only by his clear and incisive, though seldom highly-polished, correspondence; for his celebrated “Farewell Address” is understood to have been mainly the joint work of himself, Madison, and Jay.

  Was a writer who made some small mark upon incipient American literature, and who at any rate, may be mentioned among the political writers of his time. Without collegiate education, and never paying special attention to the art of style, he wrote plainly and clearly, in a somewhat individual way. Twelve large volumes trimly include his once scattered and desultory manuscripts, chiefly letters and documents.

  As a letter writer Washington had few superiors; his journals, notably the account of his famous journey to the Ohio, first published in 1754, are written in clear, concise English; and his farewell addresses are full of a wisdom and a stateliness worthy in every way of the great man who produced them.

  Of couse, no one goes to the letters of Washington, in the expectation of finding there sprightliness of thought, flexibly, or ease of movement; yet, in point of diligence and productiveness, he was one of the great letter-writers of that age, while all that he ever wrote has the incommunicable worth of his powerful and noble character—sincerity, purity, robustness, freedom from all morbid vapors, soundness of judgment ripened under vast responsibility. Who can hope ever to know the mind and conscience of our Revolution, its motive, its conduct, its stern and patient purpose, or its cost, without studying Washington’s letters?

  Washington’s correspondence and “Farewell Address” would scarcely, from another, constitute a claim to literary renown.