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 vJMa^ ♦ AT ^ • ©lis ♦ «? ^, oVJIoO^ 
 
THE LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 GEORGE WASHINGTON; 
 
 ¥nTH 
 
 CURIOUS ANECDOTES, 
 
 EQUALLY HONOURABLE TO HIMSELF, 
 
 AND 
 
 EXEMPLARY TO HIS YOUNG COUNTRYMEN. 
 
 A life how useful to his country led! 
 How loved while Hying I how revered now deadl 
 Lisp I lisp his name, ye children yet unborn 1 
 And with like deeds your own great names adorn. 
 
 BY M. L. WEEMS, 
 
 rORMERLT RECTOR OP MOUNT VERNON PARISH. 
 
 The author has treated this great subject with admirable "suoufeie in a Ben 
 way. He turns all the actions of Washington to the encouragement of virtue 
 by a careful application of numerous exemplifications drawn from the conduct 
 of the founder of our Republic from his earliest life." — H. Lee, Major Generoi, 
 U. & Army. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA : 
 
 J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO, 
 
 1877. 
 
E-3\Z 
 
 ^-f/y/r 
 
 '/' 
 
 ^/ 
 
THE LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 WASHINGTON. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Oh ! as along the stream of time thy name 
 Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame ; 
 May then these lines to future days descend, 
 And prove thy country's good thine only end ! 
 
 "Ah, gentlemen !" — exclaimed Bonaparte — 'twas 
 just as he was about to embark for Egypt— some 
 young Americans happening at Toulon, and anxious 
 to see the mighty Corsican, had obtained the honour 
 of an introduction to him. Scarcely were past the 
 customary salutations, when he eagerly asked, " how 
 faresyourcountryman,the great Washington?" "He 
 was very well," replied the youths, brighten mg at the 
 thought, that they were the countrymen of Washing- 
 ton ; "he was very well, general, when we left Ame- 
 rica." — " Ah, gentlemen !" rejoined he, "Washington 
 can never be otherwise than well. — The measure of 
 his fame is full. — Posterity will talk of him with re- 
 verence as the founder of a great empire, when my 
 name shall be lost in the vortex of Revolutions !" 
 
 Who, then, that has a spark of virtuous curiosity, 
 
 but must wish to know the history of him whose 
 
 name could thus awaken the sigh even of Bonaparte? 
 
 But is not his histDry alreadv known ? Have not a 
 
 1*' 
 
6 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 tiiousand orators spread his fame abroad, bright aa 
 his own Potomac, when he reflects the morning sun, 
 and flames hke a sea of Hqnid gold, the wonder and 
 dehght of all the neighbouring shores ? Yes, thev 
 have indeed spread his fame abroad .... his fame as 
 Generalissimo of the armies, and first President of 
 the councils of his nation. But this is not half his 
 
 fame True, he has been seen in greatness : but it is 
 
 only the greatness of public character, which is no 
 evidence of true greatness ; for a public character is 
 often an artificial one. At the head of an army or 
 nation, where gold and glory are at stake, and where 
 a man feels himself the burning focus of unnum- 
 bered eyes ; he must be a paltry fellow, indeed, who 
 
 does not play his part pretty handsomely even the 
 
 common passions of pride, avarice, or ambition, will 
 put him up to his mettle, and call forth his best and 
 bravest doings. But let this heat and blaze of public 
 situation and incitement be withdrawn ; let him be 
 thrust back into the shade of private life ; and you 
 shal) see how soon, like a forced plant robbed of its 
 hot-bed, he will drop his false foliage and fruit, and 
 stand forth confessed in native stickweed sterility 
 and worthlessness. — There was Benedict Arnold — 
 while strutting a brigadier general on the public 
 state, he could play you the great man, on a handsome 
 
 scale he out-marched Hannibal, and out-fought 
 
 Burgoyne he chased the British like curlews, or 
 
 cooped them up like chickens ! and yet in the private 
 walks of life, in Philadelphia, he could swindle rum 
 from the commissary's stores, and, with the aid of 
 loose women, retail it by the gill ! ! — And there was 
 the great duke of Marlborough too — his public cha- 
 racter, a thunderbolt in war ! Britian's boast, and the 
 terror of the French ! But his private character, 
 what.? Why a swindler to whom Arnold's self could 
 hold a candle ; a perfect nondescript of baseness ; a 
 shaver of farthings from the poor sixpenny pay of 
 his own brave soldiers ! ! 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 7 
 
 ft is not, then, in the glare of public, but in the 
 shade of private Ufe, that we are to look for the man. 
 Private life, is always real life. Behind the curtain^ 
 where the eyes of the million are not upon him, and 
 where a man can have no motive but inclination, no 
 incitement but honest nature, there he will always 
 be sure to act himself: consequently, if he act greatly, 
 he must be great indeed. Hence it has been justly 
 Baid, that, " our private deeds, if noble, are noblest of 
 our lives." 
 
 Of these private deeds of Washington very little 
 has been said. In most of the elegant orations pro- 
 nounced to his praise, you see nothing of Washing- 
 ton below the clouds — nothing of Washington the 
 dutiful son — the affectionate brother — the cheerful 
 school-boy — the diligent surveyor — the neat drafts- 
 man — 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 Wash- 
 ington, the HERO, and the Demigod — Washington 
 the sun-beam in council, or the storm in war. 
 
 And in all the ensigns of character amidst which 
 he is generally drawn, you see none that represent 
 him what he really was, " the jupiter Conservator," 
 the friend and benefactor of men. Where's his bright 
 ploughshare that he loved — or his wheat-crowned 
 fields, waving in yellow ridges before the wanton 
 breeze — or his hills whitened over with flocks — or 
 his clover covered pastures spread with innumerous 
 herds — or his neat-clad servants with songs rolling 
 the heavy harvest before them? Such were the scenes 
 of peace, plenty, and happiness, in which Washington 
 delighted. But his eulogists have denied him these, 
 the only scenes which belong to man the great ; 
 and have trick'd him up in the vile drapery of man 
 the little. See ! there he stands ! with the port of 
 Mars "the destroyer,'* dark frowning over the fields 
 of war — the lightning of Potter's blade is by his side 
 —the deep-mouthed cannon is before him, disgorg- 
 
 1* 
 
8 LllE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 ing its flesh-mangling balls — ^his war-horse pants 
 with impatience to bear him, a speedy thunderbolt, 
 against the pale and bleeding ranks of Britain ! — 
 These are the drawings usually given of Washington; 
 drawings masterly no doubt, and perhaps justly 
 descriptive of him in some scenes of his life. But 
 scenes they were, which I am sure his soul abhorred, 
 and in which, at any rate, you see nothing of his 
 private virtues. These old fashioned commodities 
 are generally thrown into the back ground of the 
 picture; and treated, as the grandees at the London 
 and Paris routs, treat their good old aunts and grand- 
 mothers, huddling them together into the back rooms, 
 there to wheeze and cough by themselves, and not 
 depress the fine laudanum-raised spirits of the young 
 sparklers. And yet it was to those old fashioned vir- 
 tues that our hero owed every thing. For they in 
 fact were the food of the great actions of him, whom 
 men call Washington. It was they that enabled him, 
 first to triumph over himself; then over the British; 
 and uniformly to set such bright examples of human 
 perfectibility and true greatness, that, compared there- 
 with, the history of his capturing Cornwallis and 
 Tarleton, with their buccaneering legions, sounds 
 almost as small as the story of General Putnam's 
 catching his wolf and her lamb-killing whelps. 
 
 Since then it is the private virtues that (ay the 
 foundation of all human excellence — since it was 
 these that exalted Washington to be " Columbia's 
 first and greatest Son," be it our first care to present 
 these, in all their lustre, before the admiring eyes 
 of our children. To them his private character is 
 every thing ; his public, hardly any thing. For how 
 glorious soever it may have been in Washington to 
 have undertaken the emancipation of his country ; 
 to have stemmed the long tide of adversity ; to have 
 baffled every effort of a wealthy and warlike nation; 
 to have obtained for his countrymen the completes! 
 victory, and for himself the most unbounded power . 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 9 
 
 and then to have returned that power, accompanied 
 with all the weight of his own great character and 
 advice to estabhsh a government that should immor- 
 talize the blessings of liberty — however glorious, I 
 say, all this may have been to himself, or instructive 
 to future generals and presidents, yet does it but 
 little concern our children. For who among us can 
 hope that his son shall ever be called, like Washing- 
 ton, to direct the storm of war, or to ravish the ears 
 of deeply listening Senates ? To be constantly placing 
 him then, before our children, in this high character, 
 what is it but like springing in the clouds a golden 
 Phoenix, which no mortal calibre can ever hope to 
 reach ? Or like setting pictures of the Mammoth 
 before the mice, whom "not all the manna of Heaven'' 
 can ever raise to equality ? Oh no ! give us his pri^ 
 vate virtues ! In these, every youth is interested, be- 
 cause in these every youth may become a Washing- 
 ton — a Washington in piety and patriotism, — in in- 
 dustry and honour — and consequently a Washington, 
 m what alone deserves the name, self esteem and 
 
 UNIVERSAL RESPECT. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 BIRTH AND EDUCATION. 
 
 ** Children like tender osiers take the bow ; 
 " And as they first are form'd, forever grow." 
 
 To this day numbers of good Christians can hardly 
 find faith to believe that Washington was, bona fide, 
 a Virginian ! " What ! a buckskin ! say they with a 
 smile. " George Washington a buckskin ! pshaw ! 
 impossible! he was certainly an European: So 
 great a man could never have been born m America." 
 
 So great a man could never have been born in 
 
10 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 America ! — why that's the very prince of reasons 
 why he should liave been born here ! Nature, wc 
 know, is fond of harmonies ; and paria paribus, that 
 is, great things to great, is the rule she delights to 
 work by. Where, for example, do we look for the 
 whale, " the biggest born of nature ?'' not, 1 trow, in 
 a mill-pond, but in the main ocean. " There go the 
 great ships :" and there are the spoutings of whales 
 amidst their boiling foam. 
 
 By the sam-e rule, where shall we look for Wash- 
 ington, the greatest among men, but in America — 
 that greatest Continent, which, rising from beneath 
 the frozen pole, stretches far and wide to the south, 
 running almost " the whole length of this vast terrene," 
 and sustaining on her ample sides the roaring shock 
 of half the watery globe ? And equal to its size is the 
 furniture of this vast continent, where the Almighty 
 has reared his cloud-capt mountains, and spread his 
 sea-like lakes, and poured his mighty rivers, and 
 hurled down his thundering cataracts in a style of 
 the sublime, so far superior to any thing of the kind 
 in the other continents, that we may fairly conclude 
 that great men and great deeds are designed for 
 America. 
 
 This seems to be the verdict of honest analogy ; 
 and accordingly we find America the honoured cra- 
 dle of Washington, who was born on Pope's creek, 
 in Westmoreland county, Virginia, the 22nd of Feb- 
 ruary, 1732. His father, whose name was Augustin 
 Washington, was also a Virginian : but his grand- 
 father (John) was an Englishman, who came over 
 and settled in Virginia in 1657. 
 
 His father, fully persuaded that a marriage of 
 virtuous love comes nearest to angelic life, early 
 stepped up to the altar with glowing cheeks and joy 
 sparkling eyes, while by his side with soft warm 
 hand, sweetly trembling in his, stood the angel-form 
 »'f the lovely Miss Dandridge. 
 
 After several years of great domestic happiness 
 
 1 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. l 
 
 Mr Washington was separated by death from this 
 excellent woman, who left him and two children to 
 lament her early fate. 
 
 Fully persuaded still, that " it is not good for man 
 to be alone," he renewed, for the second time, the 
 chaste delights of matrimonial love. His consort 
 was Miss Mary Ball, a young lady of fortune, and 
 descended from one of the best families in Virginia. 
 
 From his intermarriage with this charming girl, it 
 would appear that our hero's father must have pos- 
 sessed either a very pleasing person, or highly 
 polished manners, or perhaps both ; for, from wha^ 
 1 can learn, he was at that time at least forty years 
 old ! while she, on the other hand, was universally 
 toasted as the belle of the Northern Neck, and in the 
 full bloom and freshness of love-inspiring sixteen. 
 This I have from one who tells me that he has carried 
 down many a sett dance with her; I mean that 
 amiable and pleasant old gentleman, John Fitzhugh, 
 Esq. of Stafford, who was, all his life, a neighbour 
 and intimate of the Washington family. By his first 
 wife, Mr. Washington had two children, both sons 
 — Lawrence and Augustin. By his second wife, he 
 had five children, four sons and a daughter — George, 
 Samuel, John, Charles, and Elizabeth. Those over 
 delicate folk, who are ready to faint at thought of a 
 second marriage, might do well to remember, that 
 the greatest man that ever lived was the son of this 
 second marriage. 
 
 Little George had scarcely attained his fifth year, 
 when his father left Pope's creek, and came up to a 
 plantation which he had in Stafford, opposite to 
 Fredericksburg. The house in which he lived is 
 still to be seen. It lifts its low and modest front of 
 faded red, over the turbid waters of Rappahannock ; 
 whither, to this day, numbers of people repair, and, 
 with emotions unutterable, looking at the weather- 
 beaten mansion, exclaim, " Here's the house where 
 the great Washington was born '" 
 
12 JJFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 But it is all a mistake ; for he was born, as I saidj 
 at Pope's creek, in Westmoreland county, near the 
 margin of his own roaring Potomac. 
 
 The first place of education to which George was 
 ever sent, was a little "old field school," kept by one 
 of his father's tenants, named Hobby; an honest, poor 
 old man, who acted in the double character of sexton 
 and schoolmaster. On his skill as a grave-digger, 
 iradition is silent; but for a teacher of youth, his 
 qualifications were certainly of the humbler sort ; 
 making what is generally called an A. B. C. school- 
 master. Such was the preceptor who first taught 
 Washington the knowledge of letters ! Hobby lived 
 to see his young pupil in all his glory, and rejoiced 
 exceedingly. In his cups — for though a sexton, he 
 would sometimes drink, particularly on the General's 
 birth days — he used to boast that " 'twas he, who, 
 between his keees, had laid the foundation of George 
 Washington's greatness." 
 
 But though George was early sent to a school- 
 master, yet he was not on that account neglected by 
 his father. Deeply sensible of the loveliness and 
 worth of which human nature is capable, through 
 the virtues and graces early implanted in the heart, 
 he never for a moment, lost sight of George in those 
 all-important respects. 
 
 To assist his son to overcome that selfish spirit, 
 which too often leads children to fret and fight about 
 trifles, was a notable care of Mr. Washington. For 
 ♦his purpose, of all the presents, such as cakes, fruit, 
 &c. he received, he was always desired to give a Uberal 
 part to his play-mates. To enable him to do this 
 with more alacrity, his father would remind him of 
 the love which he would thereby gain, and the 
 frequent presents which would in return be made to 
 him ; and also would tell of that great and good God, 
 who delights above all things to see children love 
 one another, and will assuredly reward them f(»i 
 acting so amiable a part. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON 13 
 
 Some idea of Mr. Washington's plan of education 
 ill this respect, may be collected from the folio wmg 
 anecdote, related to me twenty years ago by an aged 
 lady, who was a distant relative, and, when a girl, 
 spent much of her time in the family : 
 
 « On a fine morning," said she, " in the fall ol 1 737, 
 Mr. Washington havhig little George by the hand, 
 came to the door and asked my cousin Washington 
 and myself to walk with him to the orchard, promis- 
 ing he would show us a fine sight. On arriving at 
 the orchard, we were presented with a fine sight 
 indeed. The whole earth, as far as we could see, 
 was strewed with fruit: and yet the trees were 
 bending under the weight of apples, which hung in 
 clusters like grapes, and vainly strove to hide their 
 blushing cheeks behind the green leaves. Now, 
 George, said his father, look here, my son ! don't you 
 remember when this good cousin of yours brought 
 you that fine large apple last spring, how hardly I 
 could prevail on you to divide with your brothers 
 and sisters ; though I promised you that if you would 
 but do it, God Almighty would give you plenty of 
 apples this fall. Poor George could not say a word ; 
 but hanging down his head, looked quite confused, 
 while with his little naked toes he scratched in the soft 
 ground. Now look up, my son, continued his father, 
 look up, George ! and see there how richly the blessed 
 God has made good my promise to you. Wherever 
 you turn your eyes, you see the trees loaded with fine 
 fruit ; many of them indeed breaking down ; while 
 the ground is covered with mellow apples, more than 
 you could eat, my son, in all your life time." 
 
 George looked in silence on the wide wilderness 
 of fruit. He marked the busy humming bees, and 
 heard the gay notes of birds ; then lifting his eyes, 
 filled with shining moisture, to his father, he softly 
 said, " Well, Pa, only forgive me this time ; and see 
 if I ever be so stingy any more." 
 
 Some, when they look ud to the oak, whose giant 
 
X\ LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 arms throw a darkening shade over distant acres, oi 
 whose single trunk lays the keei of a man of war, 
 cannot bear to hear of the time when this mighty 
 plant was but an acorn, which a pig could hove de- 
 molished. But others, who know their value, like to 
 learn the soil and situation which best produces such 
 noble trees. Thus, parents that are wise, will listen, 
 well pleased, while I relate how moved the steps of 
 the youthful Washington, whose single worth far 
 outweighs all the oaks of Bashan and the red spicy 
 cedars of Lebanon. Yes, they will listen delighted 
 while I tell of their Washington in the days of his 
 youth, when his little feet were swift towards the 
 nests of birds ; or when, wearied in the chase of the 
 butterfly, he laid him down on his grassy couch and 
 slept, while ministering spirits, Avith their roseate 
 wings, fanned his glowing cheeks, and kissed his lips 
 of innocence with that fervent love which makes the 
 Heaven ! 
 
 Never did the wise Ulysses take more pains with 
 his beloved Telemachus, than did Mr. Washington 
 with George, to inspire him with an early love of 
 truth. " Truth, George," said he, *' is the loveliest 
 quahty of youth. I would ride fifty miles, my son, 
 to see the little boy whose heart is so honest, and his 
 lips so pure, that we may depend on every word he 
 says. how lovely does such a child appear in the 
 eyes of every body ! his parents doat on him. His 
 relations glory in him. They are constantly praising 
 him to their children, whom they beg to imitate him. 
 They are often sending for him to visit them ; and 
 receive him, when he comes, with as much joy as if 
 he were a little angel, come to set pretty examples 
 to their children. 
 
 " But, Oh ! how different, George, is the case with 
 the boy who is so given to lying, that nobody can 
 Delieve a word he says ! He is looked at with aversion 
 wherever he goes, and parents dread to see him come 
 among their children. Oh, George ! my son ! rather 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 15 
 
 than see you come to this pass, dear as you are to my 
 heart, gladly would I assist to nail you up in your 
 little coffin, and follow you to your grave. Hard, 
 indeed, would it be to me to give up my son, whose 
 little feet are always so ready to run about with me, 
 and whose fondly looking eyes and sweet prattte 
 makes so large a part of my happiness. But still I 
 would give him up, rather than see him a common 
 liar." 
 
 " Pa," 8aid George very seriously'', ^* do I ever tell 
 lies V 
 
 " No, George, I thank God you do not, my son ; 
 and I rejoice in the hope you never will. At least, 
 you shall never, from me, have cause to be guilty of 
 so shameful a thing. Many parents, indeed, even 
 compel their children to this vile practice, by barba- 
 rously beating them for every little fault : hence, on 
 the next offence, the little terrified creature slips out 
 a lie I just to escape the rod. But as to yourself, 
 George, you know I have always told you, and now 
 tell you again, that, whenever by accident, you do 
 any thing wrong, which must often be the case, as you 
 are but a poor little boy yet, without experience or 
 knowledge, you must never tell a falsehood to conceal 
 it ; but come bravely up, my son, like a little man, 
 and tell me of it : and, instead of beating you, George, 
 I will but the more honour and love you for it, my 
 dear." 
 
 This, you'll say, was sowing good seed I — Yes, it 
 was : and the crop, thank God, was, as I believe it 
 ever will be, where a man acts the true parent, that 
 is, the Guardian Angel, by his child. 
 
 The following anecdote is a case in point. It is 
 too valuable to be lost, and too true to be doubted ; 
 for it was communicated to me by the same excellent 
 lady to whom I am indebted for the last. 
 
 "When George," said she, "was about six years 
 old, he was made the wealthy master of a hatchet 1 
 of which, like most little boys, he was immoderately 
 
16 LIFE OF WASHINGTON 
 
 foiid, and was constantly going about chopping every 
 6hing that came in his way. One day, in the garden, 
 where he often amused himself hacking his mother's 
 pea-sticks, he unluckily tried the edge of his hatchet 
 on the body of a beautiful young English cherry-tree, 
 which he barked so terribly, that 1 don't beheve the 
 tree ever got the better of it. The next morning the 
 old gentleman, finding out what had befallen his tree, 
 which, by the by, was a great favourite, came into 
 the house ; and with much warmth asked for the 
 mischievous author, declaring at the same time, that 
 he would not have taken five guineas for his tree 
 Nobody could tell him any thing about it. Presently 
 George and his hatchet made their appearance. 
 " George," said his father, " do you know who killed 
 that beautiful little cherry tree yonder in the garden ?" 
 This was a tough question ; and George staggered 
 imder it for a moment ; but quickly recovered him- 
 self: and looking at his father, with the sweet face of 
 youth brightened with the inexpressible charm of all- 
 conquering truth, he bravely cried out, " I can't tell 
 a lie, Pa ; you know I can't tell a lie. 1 did cut it 
 with my hatchet." — Run to my arms, you dearest 
 boy, cried his father in transports, run to my arms • 
 glad am I, George, that you killed my tree ; for you 
 have paid me for it a thousand fold. Such an act of 
 heroism in my son is more worth than a thousand 
 trees, though blossomed with silver, and their fruits 
 of purest gold." 
 
 It was in this way by interesting at once both his 
 heart and head, that Mr. Washington conducted 
 George with great ease and pleasure along the happy 
 paths of virtue. But well knowing that his beloved 
 charge, soon to be a man, would be left exposed to 
 numberless temptations, both from himself and from 
 ethers, his heart throbbed with the tenderest anxiety 
 to make him acquainted with that great being, whom 
 to know and love, is to possess the surest defence 
 against vice, and the best of all motives to virtuo and 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 17 
 
 happiness. To startle George into a lively ^ense of 
 his Maker, he fell upon the following very curious 
 but impressive expedient : 
 
 One day he went into the garden, and piepared a 
 little bed of finely pulverized earth, on which he 
 wrote George's name at full, in large letters — then 
 strewing in plenty of cabbage seed, he covered them 
 up, and smoothed all over nicely with the roller. — 
 This bed he purposely prepared close along side of 
 a gooseberry walk, which happening at this time to 
 be well hung with ripe fruit, he knew would be ho- 
 noured with George's visits pretty regularly every 
 day. Not many mornings had passed away before 
 in came George, with eyes wild rolling, and his little 
 cheeks ready to burst with great news. 
 
 "0 Pa! come here ! come here !" 
 
 " What's the matter, my son ? what's the matter ?" 
 
 " come here, 1 tell you. Pa : come here ! and I'll 
 shew you such a sight as you never saw in all your 
 life time." 
 
 The old gentleman suspecting what George would 
 be at, gave him his hand, which he seized with great 
 eagerness, and tugging him along through the garden, 
 led him point blank to the bed whereon was inscrib- 
 ed, in large letters, and in all the freshness of newly 
 sprung plants, the full name of 
 
 GEORGE WASHINGTON. 
 
 " There Pa?" said George, quite in an ecstacy of 
 astonishment, " did you ever see such a sight in ail 
 your life time ?" 
 
 <* Why it seems like a curious affair, sure enoUigh, 
 George !" 
 
 "But, Pa, who did make it there ? who did make 
 It there ?" 
 
 « It grew there by chance, 1 suppose, my son." 
 
 " By chance. Pa ! no ! no ! it never did gro\* 
 Ihere by chance. Pa. Indeed that it never did '" 
 
 " High ! why not, my son ?" 
 2* 
 
IS LIFF: of WASHINGTON. 
 
 " Wliy, Pa, did you ever see any body's name m a 
 plant bed before ?" 
 
 " Well, but George, such a thing might happen, 
 though you never saw it before. 
 
 " Yes, Pa ; but I did never see the little plants 
 grow up so as to make one single letter of my name 
 before. Now, how could they grow up so as to make 
 all the letters of my name ! and then standing one 
 after another, to spell my name so exactly ! — and all 
 so neat and even too, at top and bottom ! ! Pa, you 
 must not say chance did all this. Indeed somebody 
 did it ; and I dare say now, Pa, you did it just to 
 scare me, because I am your little boy." 
 
 His father smiled ; and said, " Well George, you 
 have guessed right. I indeed did it ; but not to scare 
 you, my son ; but to learn you a great thing which 1 
 wish you to understand. I want, my son, to intro- 
 duce you to your true Father." 
 
 " High, Pa,an't you my true father, that has loved 
 me, and been so good to me always?" 
 
 " Yes George, I am your father, as the world calls 
 It : and I love you very dearly too. But yet with 
 all my love for you, George, I am but a poor good- 
 for-nothing sort of a father in comparison of one you 
 have." 
 
 " Aye ! I know, well enough whom you mean. Pa. 
 /ou mean God Almighty ; don't you ?" 
 
 " Yes, my son, I mean him indeed. He is your 
 true Father, George." 
 
 " But, Pa, where is God Almighty ! I did never 
 see him yet." 
 
 " True my son ; but though you never saw him, 
 yet he is always with you. You did not see me when 
 ten days ago I made this little plant bed, where you 
 see your name in such beautiful green letters : but 
 though you did not see me here, yet you know I was 
 here ! !" 
 
 «^ Yes, Pa, that I do. I know you was here.' 
 
 « Well then, and as my son could not believe that 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON l» 
 
 chance had made and put together so exactly i\ <» 
 letters of his name, (though only sixteen) then how- 
 can he believe, that chance could have made andpm 
 together all those millions and millions of things thai 
 are now so exactly fitted to his good ! That my son 
 may look at every thing around him, see ! what fine 
 eyes he has got ! and a little pug nose to smell the 
 sweet flowers! and pretty ears to hear sweet sounds! 
 and a lovely mouth for his bread and butter! and 0, 
 the little ivory teeth to cut it for him ! and the dear 
 little tongue to prattle with his father ! and precious 
 llittle hands and fingers to hold his play -things ! and 
 beautiful little feet for him to run about upon ! and 
 when my little rogue of a son is tired with running 
 about, then the still night comes for him to lie down : 
 and his mother sings, and the little crickets chirp him 
 to sleep ! and as soon as he has slept enough, and 
 jumps up fresh and strong as a little buck, there the 
 sweet golden light is ready for him ! When he looks 
 down into the water, there he sees the beautiful silver 
 fishes for him ! and up in the trees there are the 
 apples, and peaches, and thousands of sweet fruits 
 for him ! and all, all around him, wherever my dear 
 boy looks, he sees every thing just to his wants and 
 wishes ; — the bubbUng springs with cool sweet water 
 for him to drink ! and the wood to make him spark 
 ling fires when he is cold ! and beautiful horses lor 
 him to ride ! and strong oxen to work for him . and 
 the good cow to give him milk ! and bees to make 
 sweet honey for his sweeter mouth ! and the little 
 lambs, with snowy wool, for beautiful clothes for 
 him ! Now, these and all the ten thousand thousand 
 other good things more than my son can ever think 
 of, and all so exactly fitted to his use and delight — 
 Now how could chance ever have done all this for 
 my little son ? Oh George ! — 
 
 He would have gone on : but George, who had 
 hung upon his father's words with looks and eyes of 
 all-devouring attention, here broke out — q^ 
 
20 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 " Ob, Pa, that's enough ! that's enough ! It can't 
 be chance, indeed — it can't be chance, that made and 
 gave rne all these things." 
 
 " What was it then, do you think, my son ?" 
 
 " Indeed, Pa, I don't know unless it was God 
 Almighty !" 
 
 " Yes, George, he it was, my son, and nobody 
 else." 
 
 "Well, but Pa, (continued George) does God 
 Almighty give me every thing ? Don't you give me 
 some things. Pa?" 
 
 " I give you something indeed ! Oh how can I 
 give you any thing, George ! I who have nothing on 
 earth that I can call my own, no, not even the breath 
 I draw !" 
 
 « High, Pa ! is'nt that great big house your house, 
 and this garden, and the horses yonder, and oxen, 
 and sheep, and trees, and every thing, is'nt all yours. 
 Pa?" 
 
 " Oh no ! my son ! no ! why you make me shrink 
 into nothing, George, when you talk of all these be- 
 longing to me, who can't even make a grain of sand ! 
 Oh, how could I, my son, have given life to those 
 great oxen and horses, when I can't give life even to 
 a fly ? — no ! for if the poorest fly were killed, it is not 
 your iather, George, nor all the men in the world, 
 that could ever make him alive again !" 
 
 At this, George fell into a profound silence, while 
 his pensive looks showed that his youthful soul was 
 labouring with some idea never felt before. Perhaps 
 it was at that moment, that the good Spirit of God 
 ingrafted on his heart that germ of piety, which 
 filled his after life with so many of the preci(*us fruits 
 of morality 
 
 ^ 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 21 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 George^g father dies — his education continued by his mother — hu 
 behaviour under school-master WilUams. 
 
 Thus pleasantly, on wings of down, passed away 
 tlie few short years of little George's and his father's 
 earthly acquaintance. Sweetly ruled by the sceptre of 
 reason, George almost adored his father; and thus 
 sweetly obeyed with all the cheerfulness of love, his 
 father doated on George. And though very different 
 in their years, yet parental and fihal love rendered 
 them so mutually dear, that the old gentleman was 
 often heard to regret, that the school took his little 
 companion so much from him — while George, on the 
 other hand, would often quit his playmates to run 
 home and converse with his more beloved father. 
 
 But George was not long to enjoy the pleasure or 
 the profit of such a companion ; for scarcely had he 
 attained his tenth year, before his father was seized 
 with the gout in his stomach, which carried him off 
 in a few days. George was not at home when his 
 father was taken ill. He was on a visit to some of his 
 cousins in Chotank, about twenty miles off: and his 
 father, unwilling to interrupt his pleasures, (for it was 
 but seldom that he visitedj would not at first allow 
 him to be sent for. But finding that he was going 
 very fast, he begged that they would send for him in 
 all haste. He often asked if he was come ; and said 
 how happy he should be once more to see his little 
 son, and give him his blessing before he died. But 
 alas ! he never enjoyed that last mournful pleasure ; 
 for George did not reach home until a few hours 
 before his father's death : and then he was speechless ! 
 The moment he alighted, he ran into the chamber 
 where he lay. But oh ! what were his feelings 
 when he saw the sad change that had passed upon 
 lira ! when he beheld those eyes, late so briglit and 
 
22 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. . 
 
 fond, now reft of all their lustre, faintly looking on 
 him from their hollow sockets, and through swelling 
 tears, in mute but melting language, bidding him a 
 
 last, last farewell I Rushing with sobs and cries, 
 
 he fell upon his father's neck he kissed him a 
 
 thousand and a thousand times, and bathed his clay- 
 cold face with scalding tears. 
 
 happiest youth ! Happiest in that love, which 
 thus, to its enamoured soul strained an aged, an 
 expiring sire. ! worthiest to be the founder of a 
 just and equal government lasting as thy own death- 
 less name ! And ! happiest old man ! thus luxu- 
 riously expiring in the arms of such a child ! ! well 
 requited for teaching him that love of his God (the 
 only fountain of every virtuous love) in return for 
 which he gave thee ('twas all he had) himself — his 
 fondest company — his sweetest looks and prattle. 
 He now gives thee his little feeble embraces. With 
 artless sighs and tears, faithful to thee still, his feet 
 will follow thee to thy grave : and when thy beloved 
 corse is let down to the stones of the pit, with stream- 
 ing eyes he will rush to the brink, to take one more 
 look, while his bursting heart will give thee its last 
 trembling cry my father ! my father ! 
 
 But, though he had lost his best of friends, yet he 
 never lost those divine sentiments which that friend 
 had so carefully inculcated. On the contrary, inter- 
 woven with the fibres of his heart, they seemed to 
 <grow with his growth, and to st-engthen with his 
 strength." The memory of his father, often bathed 
 with a tear — the memory of his father, now sleeping 
 m his grave, was felt to impose a more sacred obli- 
 gation to do whatever he knew would rejoice his 
 departed shade. This was very happily displayed, 
 in every part of his deportment, from the moment of 
 his earliest intercourse with mankind. 
 
 Soon after the death of his father, his mother sent 
 him down to Westmoreland, the place of his nativity, 
 where he lived with his half-brother Augustine* and 
 
LIFE OK WASniNGTOlN. 29^ 
 
 went to school to a Mr. Williams, an excellent teach- 
 er in that neighbourhood. He carried with him his 
 virtues, his zeal for unblemished character, his love of 
 (ruth, and detestation of whatever was false and base. 
 A gilt chariot with richest robes and liveried servants, 
 could not half so substantially have befriended him; 
 for in a very short time, so completely had his virtues 
 secured the love and confidence of the boys, his word 
 was just as current among them as a law. A very 
 aged gentleman, formerly a school mate of his, has 
 often assured me, (while pleasing recollection bright- 
 ened his furrowed cheeks,) that nothing was more 
 common, when the boys were in high dispute about 
 a question of fact, than for some little shaver among 
 the mimic heroes, to call out, " well boys ! George 
 Washington was there ; Goorge Washington was 
 there. He knows all about it : and if he don't say it 
 was so, then we will give it up." — " Done," said the 
 adverse party. Then away they would trot to hunt 
 for George. Soon as his verdict was heard, the party 
 favoured would begin to crow, and then all hands 
 would return to play again. 
 
 About five years after the death of his father, he 
 quitted school for ever, leaving the boys in tears for 
 his departure : for he had ever lived among them, in 
 the spirit of a brother. He was never guilty of so 
 brutish a practice as that of fighting himself; nor 
 would he, when able to prevent it, allow them to fight 
 one another. If he could not disarm their savage 
 passions by his arguments, he would instantly go to 
 the master, and inform him of their barbarous inten- 
 tions. 
 
 " The boys," said the same good old gentleman, 
 " were often angry with George for this." — But he 
 used to say, " angry or not angry, you shall never, 
 boys, have my consent to a practice so shocking ! 
 shucking even in slaves and dogs ; then how utterly 
 scandalous in little boys at school, who ought to look 
 )n one another as brothers. And what must be the 
 
f4 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 feelings of our tender parents, when, instead of seeing 
 us come home smiUng and lovely, as the joy of theii 
 hearts ' they see us creeping in like young black- 
 guards, with our heads bound up, black eyes, and 
 bloody clothes ! And what is all this for ? Why, that 
 v/e may get praise ! ! But the truth is, a quarrelsome 
 boy was never sincerely praised ! Big boys, of the 
 vulgar sort, indeed may praise him : but it is only as 
 they would a silly game cock, that fights for their 
 pastime : and the little boys are sure to praise him, 
 but it is only as they would a bull dog — to keep him 
 from tearing them ! !" 
 
 Some of his historians have said, and many believe, 
 that Washington was a Latin scholar! But 'tis an 
 error. He never learned a syllable of Latin. His 
 second and last teacher, Mr. Williams, was indeed a 
 capital hand — but not at Latin ; for of that lie under- 
 stood perhaps as little as Balaam's ass. But at 
 reading, spelUng, English grammar, arithmetic, sur- 
 veying, book keeping, and geography, he was indeed 
 famous. And in these useful arts, 'tis said he often 
 boasted that he had made young George Washington 
 as great a scholar as himself 
 
 Born to be a soldier, Washington early discovered 
 symptoms of nature's intentions towards him. In 
 his nth year, while at school under old Mr. Hobby, 
 he used to divide his play-mates into two parties or 
 armies. One of these, for distinction sake, was called 
 French, the other American. A big boy at the school, 
 named William Bustle, commanded the former; 
 George commanded the latter. And every day, at 
 play-time, with corn-stalks for muskets, and cala- 
 bashes for drums, the two armies would turn out, and 
 march, and counter-march, and file off or fight their 
 mimic battles, with great fury. This was fine sport 
 for George, whose passion for active exercise was so 
 strong, that at play-time no weather could keep him 
 within doord. His fair cousins, who visited at his 
 mother's, used to complain, that " George was not 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 25 
 
 fond of their company, like other boys ; but soon as 
 ne had got his task, would run out to play." But 
 such trifling play as marbles and tops he could never 
 endure. They did not afford him exercise enough. 
 His delight was in that of the manliest sort, which, 
 by stringing the limbs and swelling the m.uscles 
 promotes the kindliest flow of blood and spirits. At 
 jumping with a long pole, or heaving heavy weights, 
 for his years he hardly had an equal. And as to 
 running, the swift-footed Achilles could scarcely have 
 matched his speed. 
 
 *« Egad ! he ran wonderfully," said my amiable 
 and aged friend, John Fitzhugh, Esq., who knew him 
 well. " We had nobody here-abouts, that could come 
 near him. There was a young Langhorn Dade, of 
 Westmoreland, a confounded clean made, tight yoiuig 
 fellow, and a mighty swift runner too. But then he 
 was no match for George. Langy, indeed, did not 
 like to give it up ; and would brag that he had some- 
 times brought George to a tie. But I believe he was 
 mistaken : for I have seen them run together many a 
 time ; and George always beat him easy enough." 
 
 Col. Lewis Willis, his play -mate and kinsman, has 
 been heard to say, that he has often seen him throw 
 a stone across Rappahannock, at the lower ferry of 
 Fredericksburg. It would be no easy matter matter 
 to find a man, now a-days, who could do it. 
 
 Indeed his father before him was a man of extra- 
 ordinary strength. His gun, which to this day is 
 called Washington's fowling-piece, and is now the 
 property of Mr. Harry Fitzhugh, of Chotank, is of 
 such enormous weight, that not one man in fifty can 
 fire it without a rest. And yet throughout that coun- 
 try it is said, that he made nothing of holding it off 
 at arms length, and blazing away at the swans on 
 Potomac ; of which he has been known to kill, rank 
 and file seven or eight at a shot. 
 
 But to return to George. It appears that from the 
 start he was a boy of an uncommonly warm and 
 
26 LIFE OF WASHlNGTOxN. 
 
 noble heart ; insomuch that Lawrence, though bu» 
 his half-brother, took such a hking to him, even abDve 
 his own brother Augustine, that lie would always 
 have George with him when he could ; and often 
 pressed him to come and live with him. But, as if led 
 by some secret irr pulse, George declined the offer, and 
 as we have seen, went to work in the back woods, as 
 Lord Fairfax's surveyor ! However, when Lawrence 
 was taken with the consumption, and advised by his 
 physicians to make a trip to Bermuda, George could 
 not resist any longer, but hastened down to liis brother 
 at Mount Vernon, and went with him to Bermuda 
 It was at Bermuda that George took the small-pox, 
 which marked him rather agreeably than otherwise. 
 Lawrence never recovered, but returned to Virginia, 
 where he died just after his brother George had 
 fought his hard battle against the French and Indians, 
 at Fort Necessity, as the reader will presently learn. 
 
 Lawrence did not live to see George after that , 
 but he lived to hear of his fame ; for as the French 
 and Indians were at that time a great public terror, 
 the people could not help being very loud in their 
 jraise of a youth, who, with so slender a force had 
 dared to meet them in their own country, and had 
 given them such a check. 
 
 And when Lawrence heard of his favorite young 
 brother, that he had fought so gallantly for his coun- 
 try, and that the whole land was filled with his praise, 
 he wept for joy. And such is the victory of love 
 over nature, that though fast sinking under the fever 
 and cough of a consumption in its extreme stage, he 
 did not seem to mind it, but spent his last moments 
 in fondly talking of his brother George, who, he said, 
 *' he had always believed, would one day or other be 
 a great man •" 
 
 On openi g his will, it was found that George had 
 lost nothing by his dutiful and affectionate behaviour 
 to his brother Lawrence. For having now no issue 
 (his only child, a little daughter, lately dying) he iefl 
 
LIFE OF WASHlxVGTON. 27 
 
 to George all his rich lands in Berkley, together with 
 his great estate on Potomac, called Mount Vernon, 
 in honour of old Admiral Vernon, by whom he haa 
 been treated with great politeness, while a volunteer 
 with him at the unfortunate siege of Carthagena, in 
 1741. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 George leaves school — is appointed a private surveyor to Lord Fair 
 fax, of the Northern Neck — wishes to enter on board of a British 
 man of war — providentially prevented by his mother — the fir« 
 lightnings of his soul to war 
 
 Happily for America, George Washington was 
 not born with " a silver spoon in his mouth." The 
 Rappahannock plantatation left him by his father, 
 was only in reversion — and his mother was still in 
 her prime. Seeing then no chance of ever rising in 
 the world but by his own merit, on leaving school 
 he went up to Fairfax to see his brother Lawience 
 with whom he found Mr. William Faii'fax, one of 
 the governor's council, who was come up on a visit 
 to his sister, whom Lawrence had married. The 
 counsellor presently took a great liking to George ; 
 and hearing him express a wish to get employment 
 as a surveyor, introduced him to his relative, lord 
 Fairfax, the wealthy proprietor of all those lands ge- 
 nerally called the Northern Neck, lying between the 
 Potomac and Rappahannock, and extending from 
 Smith's Point on the Chesapeake, to the foot of the 
 Great Allegheny. At the instance of the counsellor, 
 Lord Fairfax readily engaged George as a surveyor ; 
 and sent him up into the back-woods to work. He 
 continued in hs lordship's service till his 20th year, 
 closely pursuing the laborious life of a woodsman. 
 
 From the manner in which Washington chose to 
 3 
 
28 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 amuse his leisure hours during this period, 1 am 
 almost iucUned to think that he had a presentiment 
 of the great labours that lay before him. When in 
 Frederick, which at that time was very large, con- 
 taining the counties now called Berkley, Jefterson, 
 and Shenandoah, he boarded in the house of the wi- 
 dow Stevenson, generally pronounced Stinson. This 
 lady had seven sons — William and Valentine Craw- 
 ford, by her first husband ; and John, and Hugh, and 
 Dick, and Jim, and Mark Stinson, by her last hus- 
 band. These seven young men, in Herculean size 
 and strength, were equal, perhaps, to any seven sons 
 of any one mother in Christendom. This was a 
 family exactly to George's mind, because promising 
 him an abundance of that manly exercise in which 
 he delighted. In front of the house lay a fine ex- 
 tended green, with a square of several hundred yards. 
 Here it was every evening, when his daily toils of 
 surveying were ended, that George, like a young 
 Greek training for the Olympic games, used to turn 
 out with his sturdy young companions, " to see,'^ as 
 they termed it, " which was the best man," at run- 
 ni^ig, jumping, and wrestling. And so keen was 
 their passion for these sports, and so great their am- 
 bition to excel each other, that they would often 
 persist, especially on moon-shining nights, till bed- 
 time. The Crawfords and Stinsons, though not taller 
 than George, were much heavier men ; so that at 
 wrestling, and particularly at the close or Indian hug, 
 he seldom gained much matter of triumph. But in 
 all trials of agility, they stood no chance with him' 
 From these Frederick county gymnastics or exer 
 cises, there followed an effect which shews the very 
 wide difference between participating in innoceni 
 and guilty pleasures. While companions in raking 
 and gambling, heartily despise and hate one another, 
 and when they meet in the streets, pass each othei 
 with looks as cold and siiy as sheep-thieving curs — 
 these virtuous young men, by spending their even 
 
LxFE OF WASHINGTON. S9 
 
 ings together, in innocent and manly exercises, con- 
 tracted a friendship which lasted for Ufe. When 
 George, twenty-five years after this, was called to 
 lead the American armies, he did not forget his old 
 friends, the Stinsons and Crawfords ; but gave com- 
 missions to all of them who chose to join his army ; 
 which several of them did. William Crawford, the 
 eldest of them, and as brave a man as ever shoulder- 
 ed a musket, was advanced as high as the rank of 
 colonel, when he was burnt to death by the Indians 
 at Sandusky. And equally cordial was the love of 
 these young men towards George, of whom they 
 always spoke as of a brother. Indeed, Hugh Stin- 
 son, the second brother, who had a way of snapping 
 his eyes when he talked of any thing that greatly 
 pleased him, used to brighten up at the name of 
 Washington; and would tell his friends, that, "he 
 and his brother John had often laid the conqueror of 
 England on his back ;" but at the same time, would 
 agree, that, " in running and jumping they were no 
 match for him." 
 
 Such was the way in which George spent his 
 leisure hours in the service of Lord Fairfax. Little 
 did the old gentleman expect that he was educating 
 a youth, who should one day dismember the British 
 empire and break his own heart — which truly came 
 to pgr,s. For on hearing that Washington had cap- 
 tured Cornwallis and all his army, he called out to 
 his f^'ack waiter, " Come, Joe ! carry me to my bed ! 
 (or Vxa sure 'tis high time for me to die V 
 
 Then up rose Joe, all at the word 
 
 And took his master's arm. 
 And to his bed he softly led, 
 
 The lord of Green-way farm. 
 
 There he call'd on Britain's name 
 
 ' And oft he wept full sore." — 
 Then sigh'd — thy will, O Lord be done — 
 
 " And woid spake never more." 
 
 3* 
 
do LIFE OF WASHINGTON 
 
 It was in his 15th year, according to the best oi 
 my information, that Washington first felt tlie kind- 
 lings of his soul for war. The cause was this — In 
 those days the people of Virginia looked on Grea^ 
 Britain as th« mother country ; and to go thither was, 
 in common phrase, " to go home." The name of old 
 England was music in their ears : and the bare men 
 tion of a blow meditated against her, never failed to 
 rouse a something at the heart, which instantly flam- 
 ed on the cheek, and flashed in the eye. Washington 
 had his full share of these virtuous feelings : on hear- 
 ing, therefore, that France and Spain were mustering 
 a black cloud over his mother country, his youth- 
 ful blood took fire ; and he instantly tendered what 
 aid his little arm could afford. The rank of mid- 
 shipman was procured for him on board a British 
 ship of war, then lying in our waters ; and his trunk 
 and clothes were actually sent on board. But when 
 he came to take leave of his mother, she wept bitter- 
 ly, and told him, she felt that her heart would break 
 if he left her. George immediately got his trunk 
 ashore ! as he could not, for a moment, bear the idea 
 of inflicting a wound on that dear life which had so 
 long and so fondly sustained his own. 
 
 Where George got his great military talents, is 
 a question which none but the happy believers in a 
 particular Providence can solve : certain it is, his 
 earthly parents had no hand in it. For of his father, 
 tradition says nothing, save that he was a most amia- 
 ble old gentlemen ; one who made good crops, and 
 scorned to give his name to the quill-drivers of a 
 counting-room. And as to his mother, it is well 
 known that she was none of Bellona's fiery race. For 
 as some of the Virginia officers, just after the splendid 
 actions of Trenton and Prmceton, were compliment- 
 ing her on the generalship and rising glory of her 
 son, instead of shewing the exultation of a Spartan 
 dame, she replied, with all the sang froid of a good 
 old Friend, " Ah, dear me ! This fighting and killing 
 
UFsL UF WASHINGTON. 31 
 
 is a sad thing ! I wish George would come home and 
 .ook after his plantation ! ! 
 
 Nor does it appear that nature had mixed much 
 of gunpowder in the composition of any of his bro- 
 tliers; for when one of them, in the time of Brad- 
 dock's war, w rote him a letter, signifying something 
 like a wish to enter into the service ; George, it is 
 said, gave him this short reply : " Brother, stay at 
 home, and comfort your wife." 
 
 But though not destined to figure on the quarter- 
 deck of a m.an of war, yet he ceased not to cultivate 
 that talent which had been given for higher uses. 
 From adjutant Muse, a Westmoreland volunteer, 
 who had gained much credit in the war of Cuba, 
 whence he had lately returned with Lawrence Wash- 
 ington, he learnt to go through the manual exercise 
 with great dexterity. By the help of good treatises 
 on the art of war, which were put into his hands by 
 the same gentleman, he soon acquired very clear 
 ideas of the evolutions and movements of troops. 
 And from Mons. Vanbraam, who afterwards accom* 
 panied him as interpreter to Venango, he acquired 
 the art of fencing, at which, it is said, he was ex- 
 tremely expert. A passion, so uncommon for war, 
 joined to a ^ery manly appearance, and great dignity 
 of character, could scarcely fail to attract on him the 
 attention of the public. In fact the public sentiment 
 was so strong in his favour, that at the green age 
 of nineteen, he was appointed major and adjutant 
 general of the Virginia forces in the Northern Neck, 
 when training, as was expected, for immediate 
 service. 
 
 For his services as an adjutant general, he was 
 allowed by the crown one hundred pounds sterling 
 pp.r annum * 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTOJN. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 French encroachments on the Ohio — Washington volunteers his 
 ser'vice to governor Dinwiddie — his hazardous embassy to the 
 French and Indians — miraculous escapes — account of his journal- 
 anecdote of his modesty. 
 
 In the year 1753 the people of Virginia were 
 alarmed by a report that the French, aided by the 
 Indians, were erecting a long Une of military posts 
 on the Ohio. This manoeuvre, predicting no good to 
 the ancient dominion, was properly resented by 
 Robert Dinwiddie, the governor, who wished imme- 
 diately in the name of his king to forbid the measure. 
 But how to convey a letter to the French command- 
 ant on the Ohio, was the question. For the whole 
 country west of the Blue Mountains, was one im- 
 measurable forest, from time immemorial the gloomy 
 haunt of ravening beasts and of murderous savages. 
 No voices had ever broke the awful silence of those 
 dreary woods, save the hiss of rattlesnakes, the 
 shrieks of panthers, the yell of Indians, and howling 
 tempests. From such scenes, though beheld but by 
 the distant eye of fancy, the hearts of youth are apt 
 to shrmk with terror, and to crouch more closely to 
 their safer fire-sides. But in the firmer nerves of 
 Washington, they do not appear to have made the 
 least impression of the agueish sort. The moment 
 he heard of the governor's wishes, he waited on him 
 with — a tender of his services. 
 
 " Now Christ save my saoul, but ye'er a braw 
 lad I" said the good old Scotchman, " and gin ye play 
 your cards weel, my boy, ye shall hae nae cause to 
 rue your bargain.'^ The governor took him to hiS 
 palace that night, which was spent in preparing his 
 letters and instructions. The next day, accompanied 
 by an interpreter and a couple of servants, he set out 
 on his journey, which, being in the depth of winter^ 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 32 
 
 was as disagreeable anl dangerous asHeicules him- 
 self could have desired. Drenching rains and drown- 
 ing floods, and snow-covered mountains opposed his 
 course ; but opposed in vain. The generous ambi- 
 tion to serve his country, and to distinguish himself, 
 carried him through all ; and, even at the most trying 
 times, touched his heart with a joy unknown to the 
 vain and trifling. On his way home he was way-laid 
 and shot at by an Indian, who, though not fifteen 
 paces distant, happily missed his aim. The poor 
 wretch was made prisoner. But Washington could 
 not find in his heart to put him to death, though his 
 own safety seemed to require the sacrifice. The 
 next evening, in attempting to cross a river on a raft, 
 he was within an ace of being drowned ; and, the 
 night following, of perishing in the ice ; but from 
 both these imminent deadly risks, there was a hand 
 unseen that eflected his escape. 
 
 About the middle of January he returned to Wil- 
 hamsburgh ; and, instantly waiting on the governor, 
 presented him the fruits of his labours — the belts of 
 wampum which he had brought from the Indian 
 kings as pledges of their friendship — the French 
 governor's letters — and, last of all, his journal of the 
 expedition. This, it seems, he had drawn up as a tub 
 for the whale, that he might be spared the pam of 
 much talking about himself and his adventures. For 
 like the king of Morven, " though mighty deeds rolled 
 from his soul of fire, yet his words were never heard.' 
 The governor was much pleased with the Indian belts 
 — more with the Frenchman's letter — but most of all 
 with Washington's journal, which he proposed to have 
 printed immediately. Washington begged that his 
 excellency would spare him the mortification of seeing 
 his journal sent out into the world in so mean a dress. 
 He urged, that having been written in a wintry wil- 
 derness, by a traveller, young, illiterate, and often 
 cold, wet, and weary, it needed a thousand amend- 
 ments. " Hoot awa, Major," reolied his excellencyj 
 
34 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 "hoot avva, mon ; what tank ye aboot amendments 
 I am sure the pamphlet need nae bUish to be seen by 
 his majesty himsel — and hi geud troth I mean to 
 send him a copy or twa of it. And besides our 
 Assembly will rise to-morrow or next day, and 1 
 wish each of the members to tak a few copies hame 
 with them. So we must e'en strait-way print the 
 journal off hand as it is." 
 
 The journal, of course, was immediately printed. 
 Every eye perused it : and every tongue was loud in 
 its praise. Indeed it was not easy to err on the side 
 of excess ; for whoever with candour reads the jour- 
 nal, will readily pronounce it an unique in the history 
 of juvenile productions. It discovers that vigour, and 
 variety of talents, which take up, as it were intui- 
 tively, the views belonging to any new subject that 
 presents itself It is the hasty production of a young 
 man, born in retreats of deepest solitude, in a time of 
 profoundest peace, and brought up to the simple 
 harmless employment of a surveyor, an employment 
 which, more than any other, tends to tranquillize the 
 mind. The verdure and music of the love-breathing 
 spring ; the bright fields and harvests of joy-inspiring 
 summer ; the faded leaves and mournful silence of 
 autumn, with winter's solemn grandeur ; were the 
 scenes in which the youth of Washington was passed. 
 In these he hears the roar of distant war — from these 
 he is sent forth to mark the gathering storm. In- 
 stantly he breathes the whole spirit of his new 
 engagement — " Old things are done away : all things 
 are become new." The chain and theodolite are 
 forgotten — the surveyor is lost in the soldier. His 
 shoulders are young : but they sustain the head of an 
 old engineer. He marks the soil, the timber, the 
 confluence of rivers, the sites for forts. In short, 
 nothing connected with the defence of his country 
 escapes him. He penetrates the characters of the 
 diflerent people around him — the low sensuality of 
 the Indian, ready, for a dram, to lift the tomahawk — 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 35 
 
 tlie polished subtleties of tlie European, who can 
 " smile and smile," and yet design the death of 
 the traveller. These important truths present 
 themselves intuitively to his mind ; and shine with 
 such lustre in the pages of his journal, as to com- 
 mand the admiration of every unprejudiced reader. 
 Among the gentlemen in Williamsburgh who had 
 sense and virtue enough to appreciate the worth of 
 Washington, one of the first was a Mr. Waller 
 This gentleman, conversing on that subject with Mr. 
 Robertson, speaker of the house of Burgesses, ob- 
 served, that such services as those rendered by Major 
 Washington, were far too important to be paid off by 
 the light coin of common parlour puffs. " This young 
 man," said he, "has deserved well of his country; 
 and her Representatives iu Assembly ought to ac- 
 knowledge the obligation." That's exactly my own 
 opinion," replied Robertson : "and if you will let me 
 know when the major next visits us, I will make a 
 motion to that effect." 
 
 The next day, Washington, not having ever dreamt 
 of the honour intended him, entered the house ; and, 
 going up stairs, took his seat in the gallery. The 
 eagle-eyed friendship of Mr. Waller quickly discov- 
 ered him ; and stepping to the chair, whispered it to 
 Mr. Robertson; who instantly arose, and ordering 
 sitence, called out : "' Gentlemen, it is proposed that 
 the thanks of this house be given to Major Washing- 
 ton, who now sits in the gallery, for the very gallant 
 manner in which he executed the important trust 
 lately reposed in him by his excellency governor 
 Dinwiddle." In a moment the house rose as one 
 man ; and turning towards Washington, saluted him 
 with a general bow ; and, in very flattermg terms, 
 expressed their high sense of his services. Had an 
 earthquake shaken the capitol to the centre, it could 
 hardly have so completely confounded the major! 
 He rose to make his acknowledgments, but, alas ; his 
 tongue had forgotten its office Thrice he essaytd to 
 
S6 LIFE OF WASHINGTO.>J. 
 
 speak : but thrice, in spite of every effort, his utter- 
 ance failed him, save faintly to articulate, " Mr. 
 Speaker, Mr. Speaker !" To relieve him from his 
 embarrassment, Mr. Kobertson kindly called out, 
 " Major Washington, Major Washington, sit down ; 
 vour modesty alone is equal to your merit." 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The French arvd Indian war begins — Washir^gton goes forth to meet 
 the dangers of his country — aims a blow at Fort Du Quesne — fails 
 — gallant defence of Fort Necessity — retires from the service in 
 disgust — pressed into it again hy General Braddock — defeat and 
 death of Braddock, and dreadful slaughter of his army. 
 
 "Well, what is to come, will come !'' said poor 
 Paddy, when going to the gallows. Even so was 
 come, as would seem, the time that was to come for 
 "kmgs to go forth to battle." The truth is, numbers 
 of poor tax-ground, and thence uneducated and half- 
 starved wretches in Britain and France, were become 
 diseased with a mortal cachexy or surcharge of bad 
 hinnours; such as gambling, swindling, horse steal- 
 ing, highway robbing, &c. which nothing but the 
 saturnine pills and steel points of Mars could effec- 
 tually carry off. Thus in all corrupted governments 
 war is considered as a necessary evil. It was no 
 doubt necessary then. 
 
 Such was the remote cause. The proximate his- 
 tory, or how the dance begun, we now proceed to 
 relate. 
 
 We have just seen that the French, pouring down 
 from the lakes of Canada, thick as autumnal geese, 
 were dashing away on the Ohio, at an alarming rate 
 — multiplying forts — holding talks — and strengthen- 
 ing their alliances with the Indians. And we have 
 seen, that Washington, with letters from governor 
 Dmwiddie, had been out among the parlezvous, 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 37 
 
 conjuring them by every thing venerable in treaties^ 
 or valuable in peace, to desist from such unwarrant- 
 able measures. But all to no purpose : for the 
 French commandant, smiling at Washington, as a 
 green horn, and at Dinwiddle as an old fool, conti 
 nued his operations as vigorously as though he knew 
 not that the country in question made a part of the 
 British empire. 
 
 Swift as the broad- winged packets could fly across 
 the deep, the news was carried to England. Its effect 
 there was like that of a stone rudely hurled against 
 a nest of hornets. Instantly, from centre to circum- 
 ference, all is rage and bustle — the hive resownds 
 with the maddening insects. Dark tumbling from 
 their cells they spread the hasty wing, and shrill 
 whizzing through the air, they rush to find the foe. 
 Just so in the sea-ruling island, from queens house lo 
 ale-house, from king to cockney, all were fierce for 
 fight. Even the red-nosed porters where they met, 
 bending under their burdens, would st^p in the 
 streets, to talk of England's wrong: and, as they 
 talked, their fiery snouts v ere seen to grow more 
 fiery still, and more deformed. Then throwing their 
 packs to the ground, and leaping into the attitude of 
 boxers, with sturdy arms across, and rough black 
 jaws stretched out, they bend forward to the fancied 
 fight ! The frog-eating foe, in shirtless ruffles and 
 long lank queue seems to give ground ! then rising 
 in their might, with fire-striking eyes they press hard 
 upon him; and coming in, hand and foot, with kick 
 and cuff, and many a hearty curse, they show the 
 giggling crowd, how, damn 'em, they would thump 
 the French. 
 
 The news was brought to Britain's king just as he 
 had dispatched his pudding ; and sat, right royally 
 amusing himself with a slice of Gloucester and a 
 nip of ale. From the lips of the king down fell the 
 kuckless cheese, alas ! not grac'd to comfort the 
 «^tomach of the Lord's anointed; while, crowned 
 
 4 
 
^3 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 with snowy foam, his nut-brown ale stood untasted 
 beside his plate. Suddenly as he heard the news, 
 the monarch darkened in his place ; and answering 
 darkness shrouded all his court. 
 
 In silence he roiled his eyes of fire on the floor, 
 and twirled his terrible thumbs! his pages shrunk 
 from his presence ; for who could stand before the 
 king of thundering ships, when wrath, in gleams ot 
 Ughtning, flashed from his "dark red eyes?" Starting 
 at length, as from a trance, he swallowed his ale : 
 then clenching his fist, he gave the table a trem^endous 
 knock, and cursed the wooden-shoed nation by his 
 God ! Swift as he cursed, the dogs of war bounded 
 from their kennels, keen for the chase : and, snufling 
 the blood of Frenchmen on every gale, they raised a 
 howl of death which reached these peaceful shores. 
 Orders were immediately issued, by the British 
 government, for the colonies to arm and unite in one 
 confederacy. Virginia took the lead; and raised a 
 regiment, to the second command in which she raised 
 her favourite Washington. Colonel Fry, by right 
 of seniority, commanded : but on his death, which 
 happened soon after his appointment, Washington 
 succeeded to the command. With this little hand- 
 ful, he bravely pushed out into the Avilderness, in 
 quest of the enemy ; and at a place called the Little 
 Meadows, came up with a party under one Ju- 
 monville. This ofiicer was killed, and all his 
 men taken prisoners. 
 
 From these prisoners, he obtained undoubted 
 intelligence, that the French troops on the Ohio 
 consisted of upwards of a thousand regulars, and 
 many hundreds of Lidians. But notwithstanding 
 this disheartening intelligence, he still pressed on 
 undauntedly against the enemy, and, at a place 
 called the Great Meadows, built a fort, which he 
 called Fort IS'ecessity. 
 
 Soon as the lines of entrenchments were marked 
 ofl; and the men about to fall to work, Washington 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 39 
 
 seizing the hand of the first that was lifting the spade, 
 cried out "Stop, my brave fellow ! my hand must 
 heave the first earth that is thrown up in defence of 
 this country !" 
 
 Leaving a small garrison behind him, he dashed 
 on for Fort Duquesne, (Fort Pitt,) hopijig by the 
 reduction of that important post, to strike terror into 
 the enemy, and defeat their plans. But though this 
 was a bold stroke of generalship, yet it appeared that 
 he had not a force, sufficient to effect it. For in the 
 midst of this day's march, he was met by a party of 
 friendly Indians, who, running up to him, with looks 
 and gestures greatly agitated, cried out : " Fly ! fly ! 
 don't look behind you! your enemies are upon you, 
 thick as the pigeons in the woods !" 
 
 Washington called a council of his officers, who 
 advised an immediate return to Fort Necessity, which 
 they hardly recovered before their sentinels fired an 
 alarm ; came running in; and stated that the woods 
 were alive with Frenchmen and Indians ! It should 
 have been observed, that the dreadful news of the 
 day before, had produced so shameful a desertion 
 among his troops in the course of the night, that 
 when the enemy attacked, which they did with 1500 
 men, Washington had but 300 to stand by him. 
 But never did the true Virginia valour shine more 
 gloriously than on this trying occasion — to see 300 
 young fellows — commanded by a smooth-faced boy 
 — all unaccustomed to the terrors of war — far from 
 home — and from all hope of help — shut up in a 
 dreary wilderness — and surrounded by five times 
 their number of savage foes, yet without sign of 
 fear, preparing for mortal combat ! Scarcely since 
 the days of Leonidas and his three hundred deathless 
 Spartans, had the sun beheld its equal. With hideous 
 whoops and yells, the enemy came on like a host of 
 tigers. The woods and rocks, and tall tree-tops, 
 filled with Indians, were in one continued blaze and 
 crash of fire-arms. Nor were our youthful warriors 
 
40 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 idle : but animated by their youthful commander, 
 ihey phed their rifles with such spirit, that the httle 
 fort resembled a volcano in full blast^ roaring and 
 discharging thick sheets of liquid fire and of leaden 
 deaths among their foes. For nine glorious hours, 
 salamander-like, enveloped in smoke and flames, 
 they sustained the attack of the enemy's whole force, 
 and laid two hundred of them dead on tiie spot ! 
 Discouraged by such desperate resistance, the French 
 general, the Count de Villiers, sent in a flag to 
 Washington, highly extolling his gallantry, and ofl'er- 
 mg him the most honourable terms. It was stipulated, 
 that Washington and his httle band of heroes, should 
 march away with all the honours of war, and carry 
 with them their military stores and baggage. 
 
 On their return to the bosom of their country, 
 they were every where received with the praises 
 which they had so well deserved. The Legislature 
 voted the thanks of the nation to Washington and 
 his officers ; with a pistole to each of his men, about 
 300. 
 
 In the course of the following winter, notice was 
 given from the mother country, that xVmerican 
 officers, acting with the British, should bear no 
 command ! ! Hence the poorest shoat, if wearing 
 the proud epaulette of a Briton, might command a 
 Wolfe, if so unlucky as to be an American ! ! ! 
 Incensed at such an outrage on common justice, and 
 the rights of his countrymen, Washington threw up 
 his commission, and retired to his plantation. Mount 
 Vernon, lately left him by his brother Lawrence. 
 Here, Cincinnatus-like, he betook him to his favorite 
 plough. But the season called for the sword ; and 
 he was now risen too high to be overlooked in times 
 like those when troubles and fears began to darken 
 over all the land. 
 
 The report of his gallant but unsuccessful struggle 
 with the French and Indians, soon reached England: 
 and the ministry thinking the colonies a^one too 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 41 
 
 weak to repel the enemy, hurried on General Brad- 
 dock, with two heavy regiments, to their aid. This 
 reinforcement arrived early in tlie spring of 1755. 
 Leaving them at the Capes on their way up to 
 Belle-haven, (now Alexandria,) Braddock called at 
 WilUamsburgh, to see Governor Dinwiddle, who 
 attended him to Alexandria. 
 
 " Where is Colonel Washington ?" said General 
 Braddock. " I long to see him." 
 
 " He is retired from the service, Sir," replied the 
 Governor. 
 
 " Retired ! Sir !" contmued the General, " Colonel 
 Washington retired! pray, Sir, what's the reason?" 
 
 On hearing the cause, he broke into a passion against 
 die order from the war-ofRce as a shameful piece of 
 partiality — and extolled Colonel Washington as "a 
 young man of sense and spirit, who knev/ and asserted 
 his rights as became a soldier and a British subject." 
 
 He then wrote to Washington, whom he pressingly 
 mvited to join his army, and accept the rank of a 
 volunteer aid-de-camp in his own family. This 
 invitation was cheerfully accepted by our young 
 countryman, who waited on General Braddock as 
 soon as he heard of his arrival at Alexandria. About 
 the same time, three companies of excellent Virginia 
 marksmen, raised by order of the Legislature, arrived 
 at the British camp. 
 
 It was in the month of June, 1755, that the army, 
 upwards of 2000 strong, left Alexandria ; and, with 
 their faces to the west, began their march to the 
 mournful ditty of ^-'over the hills and far away." On 
 the route Washington was taken sick ; and by the 
 time they had reached the Little Meadows, had 
 become so very ill, that Braddock, at the instance of 
 the physicians, insisted most peremptorily that he 
 should lie by until Colonel Dunbar with the rear ol 
 the army came up. With great reluctance he yielded 
 to their wishes. But so great were his fears for the 
 army, lest in those wild woods it should fall into 
 some Indian sr.are, that the moment his fever left 
 
la LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 hini, he mounted his horse, and pursued, und over- 
 took them the very evening before they fell into that 
 ambuscade which he had all along dreaded. For 
 the next morning, the 9tii of July, when they were 
 safely arrived within seven miles of Fort Duquesne ! 
 and so confident of success, that their general swore 
 he would that night sup either in Fort Duquesne or 
 hi the lower regions — behold, the Virginia Rangers 
 discovered signs of Indians. 
 
 Here Washington, with his usual modesty, observ 
 ed to General Braddock what sort of an enemy he 
 had now to deal with — an enemy who would not, 
 like the Europeans, come forward to a fair contest in 
 the field, but concealed behind the rocks and trees, 
 carry on a deadly warfare with their rifles. He 
 concluded with these words, "I beg of your excel- 
 lency the honour to allow me to lead on with the 
 Virginia Riflemen, and fight them in their own way." 
 
 Had It been decreed that this hapless army should 
 have been saved, this was the counsel to liave elfected 
 It. But it would seem, alas ! that heaven had 
 ordained their fall in that distaiit land ; and there 
 with their flesh to fatten the wolves and vultures on 
 the hills of Monongahela. For General Braddock, 
 who had all along treated the American officers with 
 infinite contempt, rejected Washington's counsel, and 
 swelhng with most unmanly rage, replied, " High 
 
 times, by High times! when a young Buckskin 
 
 can teach a British General how to fight !" Instantly 
 the pale, fever-worn cheeks of Washington turned 
 fiery red. But smothering his feelings, he rode 
 towards his men, biting his lips with grief and rage, 
 to think how many brave fellows would draw short 
 breath that day through the pride and obstinacy of 
 one epauletted madman. Formed in heavy columns 
 the troops continued to advance. A little beyond 
 the Monongahela, was a narrow defile, through which 
 ]ay their road, with moss-grown rocks on either side, 
 and aged trees that spread an awful shade. Here, 
 in perfect concealment, the French and Indians lay, 
 
LIFE OF WASHIMGTON. 43 
 
 vi^aiting impatiently for this devoted army. Too 
 soon, alas ! the army came up, and entering the defile, 
 moved along in silence, like sheep to the slaughter 
 little dreaming how close the bloody fates hovered 
 around them. Thinking their prey now completely 
 in their clutches, all at once, the Indians set up thu 
 most hideous yells, as if the woods were filled with 
 ten thousand panthers. This they did, both as a 
 terror to the British, and a signal to attack; for in 
 the same moment they poured in a general fire, which 
 instantly covered the ground with death in every 
 hideous shape. Some were seen sinking pale and 
 lifeless at once, giving up the ghost with only a 
 hollow groan — others rolling on the earth, convulsed 
 and shrieking in the last agonies, while life and life's 
 warm blood together gushed in hissing torrents from 
 their breasts. Such sights of their bleeding comrades, 
 had the enemy but been in view, instead of depress- 
 mg would but have inflamed British blood with 
 fiercer thirst for vengeance. But, alas ! to be thus 
 entrapped in a dreary wild ! to be thus pent up, and 
 shot from behind rocks and trees, by an invisible 
 enemy, was enough to dismay the stoutest hearts. 
 Their native valour, however, and confidence i^ 
 themselves, did not at once forsake them. But, 
 animated by their officers, they stood their ground, 
 and for a considerable time fought like heroes. But 
 seeing no impression made by their fire, while that 
 of the enemy, heavy as at first, with fatal flashes 
 continued to cut down their ranks, they at length 
 took a panic, and fell into great confusion. Happily, 
 on the left, where lay the deadliest fire, Washington's 
 rangers were posted ; but not exposed like the 
 British. For, on hearing the horrible savage yells. 
 m a moment they flew each to his tree, like the 
 Indians ; and like them, each levelled his rifle, and 
 with as deadly aim. This, through a kind Provi 
 dence, saved Braddock's army ; for exulting m their 
 confusion, the savages, grimly painted, yelling like 
 furies, burst from their coverts, eager to glut tK?i 
 
 4* 
 
41 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 hellisli rnge with a total massacre of the British But, 
 faithful to their friends, Washington's rangers stepped 
 forth with joy to meet the assailants. Then rose a 
 scene sufficient to fill the stoutest heart with horror. 
 Burning alike for vengeance, both parties throw 
 aside the slow-murdering rifles, and grasp their 
 swift-fated tomahawks. Dreadfully above their 
 heads gleams the brandished steel, as with full 
 (5xerted limbs, and faces all inflamed with mortal 
 hate, they level at each othoi* their last decisive 
 blows. Death rages through all their fast-thinning 
 ranks — his bleeding victims are rolled together on 
 every side. Here falls the brave Virginia Bhie, 
 under the stroke of his nimbler foe — and there, man 
 on man the Indians perish beneath the furious toma- 
 liawks, deep buried in the shattered brain. But who 
 can tell the joy of Washington, when he saw this 
 handful of his despised countrymen thus gallantly 
 defending their British friends, and by dint of mortal 
 steel driving back their blood thirsty assailants. 
 Happy check ! for by this time, covered with wounds 
 Braddock had fallen — his aids and officers, to a man, 
 killed or wounded — and his troops, in hopeless, help- 
 less despair, flying backwards and forwards from the 
 fire of the Indians, like flocks of crowding sheep from 
 the presence of their butchers. Washington alone 
 remained unhurt ! Horse after horse had been 
 killed under him. Showers of bullets had touched 
 his locks or pierced his regimentals. But still pro- 
 tected by heaven — still supported by a strength not 
 his own, he had continued to fly from quarter to 
 quarter, where his presence was most needed, some- 
 times animating his rangers ; sometimes striving, but 
 m vain, to rally the regulars. 'Twas his lot to be 
 clo^ie to the brave but imprudent Braddock when he 
 fell ; and he assisted to place him in a tumbril, or 
 little cart. As he was laid down, pale and near spent, 
 with \oss of blood, he faintly said to Washington^ 
 " Well, Colonel, what's to be done now ?'' 
 
DEFEAT OF GENERAL BIIADDOCK. 
 
LIFE Oh WASHINGTON. 47 
 
 »^ Retreat, Sir," replied Washington : " retreat by 
 all means; for the Regulars won't fight; and the 
 Rangers are nearly all killed V 
 
 "Poor fellows!" he replied, "poor fellows!- — 
 Well, do as you will, Colonel, do as you will." 
 
 The army then commenced its retreat, in a very 
 rapid and disorderly manner, while Washington with 
 his few surviving rangers, covered the rear. 
 
 Happily, the Indians did not pursue them far: but 
 after firing a few random shots, returned in a body, 
 to fall upon the plunder ; while Washington, with 
 his frightened fugitives continued their retreat, sadly 
 remembering that more than one half of their morn- 
 ing's gay companions were left a prey to the ravening 
 beasts of the desert. There, denied the common 
 charities of the grave, they lay for many a year 
 bleaching the lonely hills with their bones. 
 
 On reaching Fort Cumberland, where they met 
 Colonel Dunbar with the rear of the army. General 
 Braddock died. He died in the arms of Washington, 
 whose pardon he often begged for having treated 
 him so rudely that fatal morning — heartily wished, 
 he said, he had but followed his advice — frequently 
 called his rangers " brave fellows ! glorious fellows !" 
 Often said, he should be glad to live if it was only to 
 reward their gallantry ! I have more than once been 
 told, but cannot vouch for the truth of it, rhat his 
 sister, on hearing how obstinately Washington and 
 his Blues had fought for her brother, was so afiected 
 that she shed tears : and sent them from England 
 handsome cockades, according to their number, and 
 a pair of colours elegantly wrought by her own fair 
 hands. 
 
 With respect to Washington, I cannot but mention 
 here two very extraordinary speeches that were 
 made about him, after Braddock's defeat, and which, 
 as things have turned out, look a good deal like pro- 
 phecies. A famous Indian warrior, who acted a 
 ie-^-ding part in that bloody tragedy, was often heard 
 
4S LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 to swear, that. " Washington was never born to be 
 Killed by a bullet! For/' continued he "I had seven- 
 teen fair fires at him with my rifle, and after all could 
 not bring him to the ground I" And indeed whoever 
 considers that a good rifle levelled, by a proper marks- 
 man, hardly ever misses its aim, will readily enough 
 conclude with this unlettered savage, that there was 
 some invisible hand that turned aside the bullets. 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Davies, in a sermon occasioned by 
 Braddock's defeat, has these remarkable words — " I 
 beg leave to point the attention of the public to that 
 heroic youth Colonel Washington, whom I cannot 
 but hope Providence has preserved for some great 
 service to this country ! !" 
 
 But though the American writers have pretty 
 unanimously agreed, that Washington was, under 
 God, the saving Angel that stood up between Brad- 
 dock's army and total destruction, yet did it profit 
 him but little with his sovereign. The British officers 
 indeed admired him : but they had no idea of going 
 any farther: "To tell in Gath, or publish in the 
 streets of Askalon" that a British army owed its 
 safety to a young Buckskin, required a pitch of virtue 
 and of courage above ordinary minds. Washington 
 was therefore kept in the back ground ; and General 
 Braddock being dead, the command devolved upon 
 Colonel Dunbar, whose conduct proved him to be 
 one of those pusillanimous hirelings, who flee when 
 the wolf Cometh. To attempt, by some gallant effort 
 to recover what Braddock had lost, — or to hang upon 
 the enemy, and prevent, at least, those numerous 
 scalping parties, which distracted with midnight 
 murders and deluged the defenceless frontiers with 
 blood, were brave and generous ideas, of which he 
 seemed incapable. But, trembhng under the general 
 panic, he instantly ordered the tents to be struck ; 
 and pushing off under the whip and spur of his fears, 
 never halted until he had reached Philadelphia; 
 where he went, as he called it, into winter quarters. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 49 
 
 (m the beginning of the dog-days !) leaving all the 
 frontiers of Maryland and Virginia exposed to the 
 merciless tomahawk. 
 
 Such facts ought to be recorded for the benefit oi 
 young men, who, with no military qualifications but 
 big limbs, can yet covet red coats and shoulder-knots. 
 
 Being thus shamefully deserted by Colonel Dun- 
 bar, Washington with his thirty rangers, set out with 
 sorrowful hearts to return home. But before he left 
 Fort Cumberland, he dispatched an express, to inform 
 Governor Dinwiddle, that '^ General Braddock was 
 slain — his army totally defeated — the remnant on 
 their march to Philadelphia — and the whole frontier 
 given up to the Indians !" The consternation that 
 was spread throughout the country by this news, 
 was inexpressible. Heart-sickening terrors, as of a 
 
 woman in labour, seized upon all families and a 
 
 frightened fancy found food for its fears in every 
 thing around it — the blast whistling round the cor- 
 ners of their cabin, alarmed, like the yell of murder- 
 ous savages — the innocent death-bell — the croaking 
 
 raven — the midnight howl of dogs were all sure 
 
 harbingers of fate. While, for dread of the Indians, 
 the roads were filled with thousands of distracted 
 parents, with their weeping little ones, flying from 
 their homes. 
 
 The Governor instantly ordered a call of the Le- 
 gislature, who, by the time Washington reached 
 Williamsburgh, were assembled, and, together with 
 numbers of citizens, went out and met him near the 
 'own. 
 
 The interview was tender. For the citizens were 
 almost moved to tears, when they saw that of so many 
 of their brave countrymen who went forth to battle, 
 only this little handful remained ! They were exceed 
 mgly rejoiced to see, alive, and well, their beloved 
 W^ashington. He had always been dear to them ; but 
 now doubly dear, in such times of danger. They 
 mourned the misfortunes of their country ; tut laid 
 
 5 
 
50 L,iblL OF WASHIJNUTON. 
 
 no blame to him. On the contrary, it was universal 
 ly believed, tliat, but for him the ruin would have 
 been complete. " Braddock," said they, " lost the* 
 victory : but Washington saved the army." 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Fatal effects of Braddock's defeat — Washington wishes to carry the 
 war into the Indian country — government refuses — defensive war 
 preferred — the frontiers desolated. 
 
 Great was the joy at Fort Duquesne on the re- 
 turn of their troops from the slaughter of Braddock's 
 army. The idea of victory, as appeared afterwards, 
 had never once entered their heads. — They had gone 
 out just to reconnoitre, and harass the British in their 
 approach ! How unbounded then must have been the 
 joy of the garrison, on seeing their friends come back 
 next morning, not sad and spiritless, as had been 
 expected, but whooping and shouting for a glorious 
 victory ; and enriched with the artillery, ammunition, 
 provisions, and baggage-waggons of a British army 
 cut to pieces ! ! 
 
 The French commandant took care to make a 
 proper use of his advantage ; for as soon as the days 
 of savage feasting and drunkenness were over, he 
 sent out deputations of his chiefs with grand-talks to 
 several of the neighbouring tribes, who had not yet 
 lifted the hatchet. 
 
 The tribes being assembled, and the caiumet oi 
 pipe of friendship smoked around, the chiefs arose ; 
 and in all the pomp of Indian eloquence announced 
 their great victory over Long Knife (the Virginians) 
 and his white brothers, (the British) — then with a 
 proud display of the numerous scalps and rich dresses 
 which they had taken, they concluded with in riting 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 51 
 
 the yo jng men to unbiiry the tomahawk, and rush 
 with them to drink the blood of their enemies. 
 
 This was enough — " Grinning horribly a ghastly 
 smile," at such prospects of blood and plunder, the 
 grim children of the desert, rose up at once to war. 
 No time was lost in preparation. A pouch of parch- 
 ed corn, and a bear-skin, with a rifle, tomahawk, 
 and scalping knife, were their equipage. And in a 
 few weeks after Braddock's defeat, an army of at 
 least fourteen hundred of those blood-thirsty savages 
 were in full march over hills and mountains, to sur- 
 prise and murder the frontier inhabitants. 
 
 Washington had early foreseen the storm that 
 would one day burst from Fort Du Quesne. On his 
 first trip through that country, two years before, ho 
 had marked the very spot, and pointed it out as " the 
 key of the western world." But Britain and America, 
 (Hke the wild ass and her colts, though mule-stubborn 
 m acting, yet snail-slow to act,) let the golden chance 
 escape ; till one Du Quesne, a French officer, with 
 some troops, passing along that way in 1754, and 
 struck, as Washington had been, with the situation, 
 immediately built thereon a fort, which he called 
 after his own name. It answered the fatal purposes 
 which Washington had predicted. By means of the 
 bold water courses on which it stood, it greatly 
 favoured the conveyance both of goods and of intelli- 
 gence. There the French laid up magazines for then 
 Indian allies, and there they hoisted the dread signals 
 of war. 
 
 Not having been able to prevail on his countrymen 
 to occupy it before the enemy, Washington's whole 
 ambition now was to take it from them. " Send two 
 thousand men," — said he, in num.erous importunate 
 letters to the Governor and Legislature, " send two 
 thoasand men, and drain the fountain at once — the 
 streams will firil of course." 
 
 But, spite of this advice, the mad policy of a 
 defensive war prevailed in the Virginia Government 
 
52 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 and instead of raising 2000 men, they voted to raise 
 about half that number ! and then, hke hypocrites 
 who make up in hp-service what they lack in good 
 works, they dubbed hmi Commander in chief of all 
 the troops raised or to be raised in Virginia, with the 
 privilege of naming his own field officers ! 
 
 These vain honours served but to exalt him to a 
 higher sphere of misery — the misery of taking a wider 
 survey of thos«, misfortunes of his country which he 
 could not remedy, — and to feel a deeper responsibility 
 for those blunders of others, vvhich he could not cure. 
 He saw Fort Duquesne irmstering her murderers, 
 which he had no powers to prevent ! He had a fron- 
 tier of 360 miles to defend, and generally less than 
 700 men to defend it with ! If he kept his troops em- 
 bodied, the whole country would be left open to the 
 savages. If he broke them down into small parties, 
 they might be destroyed one after another, by a su- 
 perior force. If he threw them into forts, they were 
 sure to be starved ; or derided by the enemy, who 
 could easily pass them in the night and surprise, 
 destroy, and murder the hihabitants with impunity. 
 And though thus completely crippled by the stupidity 
 or parsimony of the government, and incapacitated 
 from doing any services for his country, yet great 
 services were expected of him, and great blame bes- 
 tov\red for every failure. If no victories were gained 
 over the enemy, he would be blamed for inactivity. 
 If the settlers were murdered, he would be accused 
 of neglect — and if he pointed out the errors of gov- 
 ernment, he would be charged as " officious" and 
 "impertinent;" and this while young officers of the 
 worthless sort, mere cork-drawers and songsters at 
 great men's tables, were basely cutting in with a 
 weak old governor's prejudices, to work him out, 
 and to worm themselves into favour and rank. 
 
 But all these vexations and sorrows were but trifles 
 in comparison of others which he was doomed to 
 (eel. Seeing no hopes of a force sulficieiit to attack 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTOJN. 53 
 
 Fort Duquesne, he formed a chain of garrisons along 
 the frontier; and then, with a flying corps of th^. 
 most active and daring young men, continued night 
 and day, to scour the country in quest of the enemy's 
 murdering parties. In this bold and dangerous 
 employment, which lasted ahuost three years, he was 
 often presented with sights of human destruction, 
 sufficient to excite sympathy in liearts of flintiest stone. 
 
 On cautiously entering the hapless plantation with 
 his men, they halt and listen awhile — but hear no 
 voice of man — see no house, nor sign of habitation — 
 all is void and silent. Marking the buzzards perched 
 on the trees in the corn-fields, they approach, and find, 
 lying by his plough, the half-devoured carcass of a 
 man. The hole in his breast shows that he had been 
 shot, while the deep gashes in the forehead of his 
 dead horses, point out the bursting strokes of the 
 tomahawk. Amidst the ashes of the late dwelling, 
 are seen, white as chalk, the bones of the mother and 
 ner children. But sometimes their raw and bloody 
 skeletons, fed on by the hogs, are found in the yards 
 or gardens where they were surprised. 
 
 •< One day" — said he to an intimate ; though it was 
 out seldom that he mentioned those things, they gave 
 nim so much pain — " One day, as we drew near 
 through the woods, to a dwelling, suddenly we heard 
 the discharge of a gun. Whereupon quickening our 
 pace, and creeping up through the thick bushes to a 
 fence, we saw what we had dreaded — a party of 
 Indians, loaded with plunder, coming out of a house, 
 which, by the smoke, appeared as if it were just set 
 on fire. In a moment we gave the savages a shower 
 of rifle balk, which killed every man of them but 
 one. He attempted to run off. It was in vain. 
 Some of our swift-footed hunters gave chase, and 
 soon overtook and immolated him with their toma- 
 hawks. On rushing into the house, and putting out 
 the fire, we saw a mournful sight indeed — a young 
 woman lying on a bed floating in blood— her foie- 
 5* 5 
 
54 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 head cleft with a hatchet — and on her breast two 
 Uttle children, apparently twms, and about nine 
 months old, bathing her bosom with the crimson 
 currents flowing from their deeply gashed heads ! 1 
 had often beheld the mangled remains of my mur- 
 dered countrymen ; but never before felt what I did 
 on this occasion. To see these poor innocents— 
 these httle unoffending angels, just entered upon life, 
 and, instead of fondest sympathy and tenderness, 
 meeting their hideous deaths; and from hands of 
 brothers too ! filled my soul with the deepest horror 
 of sin ! but at the same time inspired a most adoring 
 sense of that reUgion which announces the Redeemer, 
 who shall, one day, do away man's malignant 
 passions, and restore the children of God to primeval 
 love and bhss. Without this hope, what man of feel 
 ing but would wish he had never been born ! 
 
 On tracing back into the corn-field the steps of the 
 barbarians, we found a little boy, and beyond him 
 his father, both wehering in blood. It appeared, 
 from the print of his little feet in the furrows, that the 
 child had been following his father's plough ; and, 
 seeing him shot down, had set off with all his might, to 
 get to the house to his mother ; but was overtaken 
 and destroyed ! 
 
 " And, indeed, so great was the dread entertained 
 of the French and Indians, throughout the settle- 
 ments, that it was distressing to call even on those 
 fomilies who yet survived, but, from sickness or other 
 causes, had not been able to get away. The poor 
 creatures would run to meet us, like persons half 
 
 distracted with joy and then with looks blank 
 
 with terror, would tell that such or such a neigh- 
 bour's family, perhaps the very night before, was 
 murdered ! — and that they heard their cries ! — and 
 saw the flames that devoured their houses ! — and 
 also, that they themselves, after saying their prayer? 
 at night, never lay down to sleep, v/ithout first taking 
 leave of one another, as if they never expect*>d tc 
 
J.IFE OF WASHINGTON. 55 
 
 Tfieet again in this world. But when we came to 
 take our leave of these wretched famihes, my God ! 
 what were our feelings ! to see the deep, silent grief 
 of the men ; and the looks of the poor women and 
 children, as, falling upon their knees, with piercing 
 screams, and eyes wild with terror, they seized our 
 hands, or hung to our clothes, intreating us, for God's 
 sake, and for mercy sake, not to leave them. 1 
 remember, "These things so harrassed my heart 
 with grief, that I solemnly declare to God, if I know 
 myself, I would gladly offer my own life a sacrifice 
 to the butchering enemy, if I could thereby insure 
 the safety of these my poor distressed countrymen. 
 
 Such were the scenes in which Washington was 
 doomed to spend three years of a wretched life, ren- 
 dered still more wretched by knowing so perfectly 
 as he did, that the rapid charge of two thousand brave 
 fellows upon Fort Duqnesne, hke the thundering 
 shock of a two-and-forty pounderupon a water-spout, 
 would have instantly dispersed the fatal meteor, and 
 restored the golden hours of peace and safety. But 
 to give Colonel Washington two thousand men, 
 seemed to old governor Dinwiddle, like giving the 
 staff out of his own hand, as he elegantly called it; 
 and rather than do that, he would risk the desolation 
 of the western country, by continuing a defensive 
 war, and a mad dependence on a disorderly militia, 
 who would come and go as they pleased — get drunk 
 and sleep when they pleased — whoop and halloo 
 where they pleased — and, in short, serve no other 
 purpose on earth but to disgrace their officers, deceive 
 the settlers, and defraud the public. Indeed so 
 ruinous were these measures of governors Dinwiddle 
 and Loudon, that, in the short space of three years, 
 they completely broke up all the fine young settle- 
 ments to the westward of Winchester, Fredericktown, 
 and Carlisle, whereby numbers of poor people were 
 butchered ! hundreds of rich plantations deserted ! 
 myriads of produce lost ! and thousands ol dollars 
 
66 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 8unfe! and all for the sake of saving the paltrj 
 expense of raising in the first instance a force which 
 would in ten weeks have taken Fort Duquesne, and 
 completely broken up that den of thieves and mur- 
 derers ! 
 
 At length, in 1758, the government of Virginia 
 devolved on general Forbes, who, to the infinite 
 satisfaction of Washington, consented to second hu 
 views on Fort Duquesne. Washington earnestly 
 recommended an early campaign, lest the Indian 
 warriors who were to meet them in April at Winches- 
 ter, should grow tired of waiting, and return home. 
 But the season was, unfortunately, so idled away, 
 that marching orders were not given till the first of 
 September, when, according to Washington's pre- 
 diction, there was not a red man to be found in camp. 
 The army then commenced its movements, but stiil 
 as would seem, under the frown of heaven. 
 
 For instead of sweeping along the old track, gene- 
 rally called Braddock's road. Gen. Forbes was per- 
 suaded to take an entirely new route, of which every 
 inch was to be cut through wilds and mountains 
 covered with rocks and trees ! In vain Washington 
 remonstrated against this as a measure, "which" he 
 said, " if persisted in at this late season, woula 
 certainly ruin the undertaking." — General Forbes 
 was inflexible. 
 
 In a letter to the Speaker of the House of Burges- 
 ses, Washington has these remarkable words — ^" If 
 this conduct of our leaders, do not flow from superior 
 orders, it must flow from a weakness, too gross for 
 me to name. Nothing now but a miracle can bring 
 this campaign to a happy issue." In a letter of a 
 later date he says, " well, all's lost ! our enterprise is 
 ruined ! And we shall be stopped this winter at the 
 Laurel Hills !" 
 
 By the middle of November, after incredible exer- 
 tions, the army, sure enough, reached the Laurei 
 Hills, where Washington predicted it would winter • 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON 57 
 
 and strange to tell ! General Forbes, with a caucus 
 squad of his officers were actually in deep debate, 
 whether they should spend the winter in that inhos- 
 pitable wild, or tread back their mournful steps to 
 Winchester, when some prisoners bi ought the wel- 
 come news that the garrison of Fort Duquesne, for 
 a long time past misupported by their countrymen, 
 and now deserted by the Indians, was so reduced, 
 that they would surrender at the sight of an enemy. 
 General Forbes instantly changed his mind, and with 
 a select detachment made a push for Fort Duquesne, 
 the ruins of which he entered, without opposition, on 
 the 28th of November, 1758. For, advertised of his 
 approach, the French determined to quit it ; and 
 after having set fire to the buildings, embarked in 
 their boats, and went down the river. 
 
 Having thus, after three years of labour and 
 sorrow, attained his favourite wish — the reduction of 
 Fort Duquesne and a total dispersion of the savages, 
 Washington returned with joy to Williamsburgh, to 
 take his seat in the legislature, to which he had been 
 regularly chosen in his absence. 
 
 It is worthy of remark, because it happens but to 
 few, that though he often failed of success, he never 
 once lost the confidence of his country. Early aware 
 of the importance of character, to those who wish to 
 be useful, he omitted no honest act, thought no pains, 
 no sacrifice of ease too great, to procure and preserve 
 It. In the whole of that stupidly-managed war, as 
 also another subsequent war, which was not much 
 better conducted, he always took care to keep the 
 public well informed as to the part which he had 
 acted, or wished to act, in the afl^air. Not content, to 
 know himself that he had acted wisely or bravely, he 
 took care that the pubhc should also know it ; in order 
 that if at any time an uproar should be made, the 
 error might be charged to the real ofiender. If the 
 legislature, or governor Dinwiddle, or general Brad- 
 dock, or any other superior, with whorpi he had 
 
53 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 public concern, and character at stake, made propo 
 sitions which he disliked, he would modestly poin 
 out their errors, predict their mischiefs, and thus 
 wash his hands of all blame : — which documents, 
 through the channel of numerous letters to his friends, 
 were always laid before the people. Hence, for the 
 ruinous consequences of the weakness and obstinacy 
 of Dinwiddle and Braddock, not a breath of censure 
 was ever blown on him. On the contrary, in the 
 public mind, he always rose as high, or higher, than 
 the others sunk. It was universally believed, that 
 had he governed, in place of Dinwiddle, the fatal 
 Indian war would not have lasted a campaign ; and 
 that on the hills of Monongahela, had Washington 
 commanded in place of Braddock, the French and 
 Indians would have been handled very differently. 
 Such were the sentiments with which the public were 
 prepared to receive him, on his return into their 
 welcoming bosom. Wherever he went, homage 
 always waited upon him, though always uncourted. 
 The grey-headed rose up to do him honour, when he 
 came into their company ; and the young men, with 
 sighs, often wished for a fame like his. Happy was 
 the fairest lady of the land, who, at the crowded ball, 
 could get colonel Washington for her partner. Anc 
 even at the house where prayer is wont to be made, 
 the eyes of beauty would sometimes wander from 
 the cold reading preacher, to catch a liveher devotion 
 from his "mind-illumined face,'^ — a face at once so 
 dignified with virtue, and so sweetened with grace, 
 that none could look on it without emotions very 
 friendly to the heart ; and sighs of sentiment, too 
 delicate for description, were often seen to heave the 
 snowy bosoms of the noblest dames. 
 
 At the head of all these stood the accomplished 
 Mrs. Martha Custis, the beautiful and wealthy 
 widow of Mr. John Custis. Her wealth was equal 
 at least, to one hundred thousand dollars! But hei 
 beauty was a sum far larger still. It was not the 
 
UFE OF WASHINGTON. 5» 
 
 ihallow boast of a fine skin, which time so quickly 
 tarnishes, nor of tliose short-lived roses, which some- 
 times witiier almost as soon as blown. But it sprung 
 from the heart — from the divine and benevolent 
 affections, which spontaneously gave to her eyes, her 
 looks, her voice and her manners, such angehc 
 charms, that I could never look on her, without 
 exclaiming with the poet, ! 
 
 ** She was nearest heaven of all on earth I knew ; 
 And all but adoration was her due." 
 
 For two such kindred souls to love, it was only 
 necessary that they should meet. Their friendship 
 commenced with the first hour of their acquaintance, 
 and was soon matured to marriage, which took place 
 about the 27th year of Washington's life. His lady 
 was, I believe, six months younger. 
 
 But that it is contrary to the rules of biography, to 
 begin with the husband and end with the wife, I 
 could relate of that most excellent lady those things 
 which the public would greatly delight to hear. 
 However, gratitude to that bright saint, now in 
 heaven, who was my noblest benefactress, while I 
 preached in her parish, compels me to say, that her 
 virtues and charities were of that extensive and 
 sublime sort, as fully to entitle her hie jacet to the 
 following noble epitaph, a little altered, from one of 
 the British poets. 
 
 Underneath this marble hearse, 
 Lies the subject of all verse. 
 Custis' widow — great George's wife — 
 Death ! ere thou robb'st another life, 
 Virtuous, fair, and good as she, 
 Christ shall launch a dart at thee. 
 
60 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 CHAPTER VHI. 
 
 Washington's mother has a very curious dream — it pomts to greal 
 coming trouble — a cloud arising in England — the causes of tbt 
 revolutionary war. 
 
 When a man begins to make a noise in the world, 
 his relatives, (the Father, sometimes, but, always 
 that tenderer parent, the Mother) are sure to recollect 
 certain mighty odd dreams, which they had of him 
 when he was a child. What rare dreams, for exam 
 *)le, had the mothers of" Macedonia's madman, and 
 tie Swede," while pregnant with those butchers ol 
 the human race ! Mrs. Washington also had hei 
 dream, which an excellent old Lady of Fredericks- 
 burg assured me she had often heard her relate with 
 great satisfaction ; and, for the last time, but a few 
 weeks before her death. 
 
 " I dreamt," said the Mother of Washington, 
 " that I was sitting in the piazza of a large new house, 
 into which we had but lately moved. George, at that 
 time about five years old, was in the garden with his 
 corn-stalk plough, busily running little furrows in the 
 sand, in imitation of Negro Dick, a fine black boy, 
 with whose ploughhig George was so delighted that 
 it was sometimes difficult to get him to his dinner. 
 And so as I was sitting in the piazza at my work, I 
 suddenly heard in my dream a kind of roaring noise 
 on the eastern side of the house. On running out to 
 see what was the matter, I beheld a dreadful sheet 
 of fire bursting from the roof. The sight struck me 
 with a horror which took away my strength, and 
 threw me, almost senseless, to the ground. My 
 husband and the servants, as I saw in my dream, 
 soon came up ; but, hke myself, were so terrified at 
 the sight, that they could make no attempt to extin- 
 guish the flames. In this most distressing state, the 
 image of my little son came, I thought, to my mind 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 61 
 
 more dtar and tender than ever : and turning tow- 
 ards the garden wliere he was engaged with his Uttle 
 corn-stalk plough, I screamed out twice with ah my 
 might, George ! George ! — In a moment, as I thought 
 he threw down his mimic plough, and ran to me 
 saying, " High ! Ma ! what makes you call so angry . 
 'an't I a good boy — don't I always run to you soon 
 as I hear you call ?" I could make no reply, but just 
 threw up my arms towards the flame. He looked 
 up and saw the house all on fire : but instead of 
 bursting out a crying, as might have been expected 
 from a child, he instantly brightened up, and seemed 
 ready to fly to extinguish it. But first looking at me 
 with great tenderness, he said, " Oh, Ma ! don't be 
 afraid : God Almighty will help us, and we shall soon 
 put it out." His looks and words revived our spirits 
 in so wonderful a manner, that we all instantly set 
 about to assist him. A ladder was presently brought, 
 on which, as I saw in my dream, he ran up with the 
 nimbleness of a squirrel ; and the servants supplied 
 him with water, which he threw on the fire from an 
 American gourd. But that growing weaker, the 
 flame appeared to gain ground, breaking forth and 
 roaring most dreadfully, which so Irightened the 
 servants, that many of them, like persons in despair, 
 began to leave him. But he, still undaunted, conti- 
 nued to ply it with water, animating the servants at 
 the same time, both by his word and actions. For a 
 long time the contest appeared very doubtful : but at 
 length a venerable old man, with a tall cap and an 
 iron rod in his hand, like a lightning rod, reached 
 out to him a curious httie trough, like a wooden shoe ! 
 On receiving this, he redoubled his exertions, and 
 soon extinguished the fire. Our joy on the occasion 
 was unbounded. But he, on the contrary, showing 
 no more of transport now than of terror before, looked 
 rather sad at sight of the great harm that had been 
 done. Then I saw in my dream that after some 
 ;ime spent as in deep thought, he called out with 
 6 
 
62 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 much joy, " Well, Ma ! now if you and the family 
 will but consent, we can make a far better roof than 
 this ever was ; a roof of such a quality, that if well 
 kept together, it will last for ever ; but if you take it 
 apart, you will make the house ten thousand times 
 worse than it was before." 
 
 This, though certainly a very curious dream, needs 
 no Daniel to interpret it ; especially if we take Mrs. 
 Washington's new house, for the young Colony 
 Government — the fire on its east side, for North's civil 
 war — the gourd which Washington first employed, 
 for the American three and six months enlistments 
 — the old man with his cap and iron rod, for Doctor 
 Franklin — the shoe-like vessel which he reached to 
 Washhigton, for the Sabot or wooden-shoed nation, 
 the French, whom Franklin courted a long time for 
 America — and the new roof proposed by Washington, 
 for a staunch honest Republic — that "equal govern- 
 ment," which, by guarding alike the welfare of all, 
 ought by all to be so heartily beloved as to endure 
 for ever. 
 
 Had it been appointed unto any man to quaff un- 
 mingled happiness in this hfe, George Washington 
 had been that man. For where is that pleasurable 
 ingredient with which his cup was not full and over- 
 flowing? 
 
 Crowned with honours — laden with riches — blest 
 with health — and in the joyous prime of 27, sharing 
 each rural sweet in the society of a charming woman 
 who doated on him, he surely bid fair to spend his 
 days and nights of life in ceaseless pleasure. — But 
 ah ! — as sings the sweet bard of Zion, 
 
 Our days, alas ! our mortal days, 
 
 Are short and wretched too ! 
 " Evil and few !" the Patriarch says, 
 
 \nd well the Patriarch knew ! 
 Tis out ai best, a narrow bound, 
 
 That Heaven allots to men ; 
 And pains and sins run through the round 
 
 Of three-score years and ten ! 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 65 
 
 From this, the universal lot, not Washington him- 
 self could obtain exemption. For in the midst of his 
 favourite labours, of the plough and pruning-hook, 
 covering his extensive farms with all the varied de- 
 hghts of delicious fruits and golden grain, of lowing 
 herds and snowy flocks, he was suddenly called on 
 by his country, to turn his plough-share into a sword, 
 and go forth to meet a torrent of evils which threat- 
 ened her. The fountain of those evils, whence at 
 length flowed the great civil war, which for ever 
 separated Britain and her children, I proceed now 
 briefly to state. 
 
 After the reduction of Canada, the British officers 
 who commanded on that expedition, came to Boston 
 and New York, on a visit to their American brethren 
 n arms, who had served with them in that war. 
 Soon as their arrival was announced, the Americans 
 flew to meet and welcome them. They were paraded 
 through the streets as the saviours of the land — the 
 doors of all were thrown open to receive them — and 
 every day, during their stay, was spent in feasting 
 and public dinners, which, for the sake of their be- 
 loved guests, were made as splendid as possible, 
 though always through the aidof obhging neighbours. 
 The rooms glittered with borrowed plate — wines of 
 every vintage sparkled on the crowded side-boards 
 — while the long extended tables were covered with 
 the finest fish and flesh, succeeded by the richest des- 
 serts. The British officers were equally charmed 
 and astonished at such elegant hospitality, and, on 
 their return to England, gave full scope to their 
 feelings. They painted the colonial wealth in the 
 colourings of romance ; and spoke of the Americans 
 as a people, who, in comparison of the British, lived 
 •ike kings. 
 
 Thus, American hospitality, by a strange perver- 
 sion, had nearly destroyed American Liberty ! For, 
 from that time, the British ministry began to look 
 apor the Americai*« with an evil eye, and to devise 
 
84 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 ways and means to make us "bear a part of theii 
 burd'^.ns !'* But what did they mean by this? Did 
 they mean to acknowledge us as sons of Britons ; 
 equally free and independent with our brethren hi 
 England ? and, like them, allowed a representation 
 m Parliament, who should freely vote our money for 
 the common cause ? 
 
 Oh no ! an idea so truly British and honourable, 
 was not at all in their thoughts. We were not to be 
 treated as brothers, but as slaves! over whom an 
 unconditional right was claimed, to tax and take our 
 property at pleasure ! ! ! 
 
 Reader, if you be a Briton, be a Briton still — pre- 
 serve the characteristic calm and candour of a Briton. 
 I am not about to say one word against your nation. 
 No ! I know them too well: and thank God, I can 
 say, after several years residence among them, I be- 
 Ueve them to be as honest, charitable, and magnani- 
 mous a people as any under the canopy of Heaven. 
 I am about to speak of the Ministry only, who cer- 
 tainly, at that time, were a most ambitious and in- 
 triguing junto, who by bad means had attained power, 
 and by worse were endeavouring to extend it, even 
 to the destruction of both American and British 
 Liberty, as the excellent Mr. Pitt charged them. — No 
 Englishman can desire fuller evidence than this one 
 tyrannical claim made against us by Lord North — 
 " taxation without representation ! !" As a plea for 
 such despotic doing. North and his creatures began 
 with boldly trumpeting the wonderful kindness they 
 had conferred on America. " They, it seems, " first 
 discovered the country ! — they settled it — they always 
 had defended it. It was their blood — their treasure 
 — their ships and sailors, and soldiers, that created 
 Vhe British colonies ! ! 
 
 dear ! — and what then ! — why, to be sure, aftei 
 having done such mighty things for the Americans, 
 they had as clear a right to their gold and silver, as 
 % Dutch'^r has to the hair and hides of his cattle I 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 65 
 
 This language was actually carried into Parliament! 
 where a Mr. Charles Townsend, to enforce the stamp 
 actjCriedout, " Who are these Americans? Are they 
 not our children, planted by our care, nourished by 
 our indulgence, and protected by our arms ? 
 
 At this the brave Colonel Barre, with cheeks in- 
 flamed with virtuous indignation, thus thundered 
 forth against the insolent speech ifier. " They plant- 
 ed by your care ! No, sir : your oppressions planted 
 them in America. They tied from your tyranny to 
 a then uncultivated and inhospitable country, where 
 they exposed themselves to all the evils which a 
 wilderness, filled with blood-thirsty savages, could 
 threaten. And yet, actuated by true English love of 
 liberty, they thought all these evils light in comparison 
 with what they had suffered in their own country, 
 and from you, who ought to have been their friends. 
 
 " They nourished by your indulgence ! No, sir ! 
 they grew by your neglect. As soon as you began 
 to indulge them, that boasted indulgence was to send 
 them hungry packs of your own creatures, to spy out 
 their liberties ! — to misrepresent their actions — and 
 to prey upon their substance ! — Yes, sir, you sent 
 them men, whose behaviour has often caused the 
 blood of those sons of Liberty to recoil within them — 
 men promoted by you to the highest seats of justice, 
 in that country, who, to my knowledge, had good 
 cause to dread a court of justice in their own ! — They 
 protected by your arms ! — No, sir ! They have nobly 
 taken up arms in your defence ; have exerted a most 
 heroic valour, amidst their daily labours, for the de- 
 fence of a country whose frontier was drenched in 
 blood, while its interior parts gave up all their savings 
 for our emolument V^ 
 
 All this was very true. For the Americans had 
 not only planted, but in a great measure protected 
 themselves. In the French and Indian war, from ^55 
 to '63, they lost nearly 30,000 of their stoutest young 
 men And by regular returns it appears that Mas 
 6* 6 
 
66 LIFE OF WASHINGTON 
 
 sachusetts alone expended about 50,000/. sterling 
 in that time ! ! ! And moreover, they had never hesi- 
 «,ted for a moment to furnish to the last man and 
 he last shilling whatever Britain had required. 
 
 But, alas ! what signifies right against might ! 
 When a king wants money for his own pride, or for 
 nis hungry relations, and when his ministers want 
 stakes for their gaming tables, or diamond nerklaces 
 for their mistresses, they will have it, though plun- 
 dered colonies should lack bread and spelling books 
 for their children. For in the year '63, when the 
 lamp of God was burning with peculiar brightness in 
 our land, and both Britain and her colonies enjoyed 
 a measure of blessings seldom indulged to the most 
 favoured nations — w'hen, at the very mention of Old 
 England, our hearts leaped for joy, as at the name 
 of a great and venerable mother, and that mother 
 felt equal transport at thoughts of us, her flourish 
 ing colonies — when all the produce of these vast and 
 fertile regions was poured into her beloved lap, and 
 she in return, not allowing us the trouble to make 
 even a hob-nail, heaped our families with all the 
 necessaries and elegancies of her ingenious artists — 
 when, though far separated b)'' an ocean's roar, we 
 were yet so united by love and mutual helpfulness, 
 that the souls of Columbus, Raleigh, and Smith, 
 looking down from Heaven, with joy beheld the con- 
 summation of all their labours and wishes ! At that 
 happy period, lord North brought in a bill to tax the 
 colonies, without allowing us a voice in their coun- 
 cils ! ! The colonies were thunderstruck : and Britain 
 herself groaning through all her islands, " gave signs 
 of woe, that all was lost !" 
 
 Doctor Franklin, who was then in England as a 
 colony agent, on hearing that this most iniquitous 
 bill had actually passed both houses, and was ratified 
 by the king, wrote to a friend in America in these 
 words — " The sun of our liberty is set. Yoa must 
 all now light up tlie double candles of Industry an\l 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 67 
 
 Economy. But, above all things, encourage the 
 young people to marry and raise up children as fast 
 as they can." 
 
 Meaning, that America, yet too weak to resist the 
 chains which a wicked ministry were forging for her. 
 should instantly fly to heaven-ordered marriage, foi 
 iier heroic youth, to rend the ignominious bonds from 
 their own and their father's arms. 
 
 But the sons of Columbia, though few in number, 
 nad too long enjoyed the sweets of Liberty and pro- 
 perty to part with them so tamely, because a king 
 and his minions had ordered it. No ! blessed be God, 
 their conduct was such as to strike the world with 
 this glorious truth, that a brave people, who know 
 their rights, are not to be enslaved. • 
 
 For, soon as it was told in America, that the stamp- 
 act had passed, the people rose up against it as one 
 man — the old grudges between churchmen and dis- 
 senters were instantly forgotten — every man looked 
 to his fellow as to a brother for aid against the 
 coming slavery — their looks on each other were as 
 lightnings in a parched forest — the sacred fire kindled, 
 and ran from end to end of the continent. In every 
 
 colony the people rushed into patriotic societies 
 
 reminded each other of their rights denounced 
 
 the stamp-act as a most audacious infringement — 
 burnt in effigy the promoters of it — destroyed the 
 houses of those degenerated Americans who had 
 received the stamps to sell — and menaced loudly a 
 non-intercourse with Britian, if the act was not im- 
 mediately repealed ! 
 
 This spirited behaviour filled all England with 
 amazement. Every man there, no matter what his 
 principles or politics, felt it to the very quick. The 
 manufacturers and merchants trembled ; the tories 
 raved ; the whigs rejoiced, and, with the great Pitt 
 and Burke at their head, publicly applauded the 
 Americans, and denounced the stamp-act as entirely 
 contrary to the spirit of British freedom. In short» 
 
68 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 the cry ag^nsi jt was so loud, both in England and 
 America, ihat the ministry, covered with shame, 
 were obliged to give way, and abandon the project. 
 
 The cloud, waich had hung so dark over the two 
 countries, being thus happily scattered, many began 
 to cherish the hope, that we should have a clear sky 
 again, and that ihe former golden days would soon 
 return. But alas ! those golden days were gone, to 
 return no more ! Government had shown the 
 cloven foot — and America had taken a fright which 
 nothing but whole years of kindliest treatment could 
 ever sooth. But, unfortunately, the ministry were 
 m no humour to show that kindness. Long accus- 
 tomed to speak of the Americans as a pack of 
 »« convicts, whom by transportation, they had kindly 
 saved from the gallows," instead of giving them 
 credit for their late spirited behaviour, they consider- 
 ed it as the height of audacity: and though from 
 necessity they had yielded to tlieir demands, they 
 were determined to have revenge on the first 
 opportunity. That opportunity was too soon af- 
 forded. 
 
 It should have been stated, that with the duty on 
 stamp paper, similar duties had been laid on glass, 
 tea, &c. &c., all of which had been repealed with the 
 stamp act, except that on tea. This the ministry 
 had artfully retained : partly to cover the shame of 
 their defeat, but chiefly in hopes of familiarizing the 
 Americans with taxation. For though Lord North 
 was never, that I know of, charged with being a 
 wizard, yet did he not lack sense to know that if he 
 could but prevail on the young Mammoth to submit 
 to a tax, though as small as a Gnat, he soon should 
 briLg him to swallow a Camel ! But glory to God! 
 the Americans had too much of British blood, to 
 allow an unconstitutional tax in any shape or size. 
 Independent and coy as the birds of their forests, 
 they would not suffer a stranger's hand even to 
 touch the sacred nest of their rights. As soon there 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. <59 
 
 fore, as the ministry began, in 1773, to order •' tfie 
 collection of taxes on tea," the colonies took fire 
 again : and the old flame of '53 was completely re- 
 kindled throughout the continent. But still in the 
 very storm and tempest of their rage, they never lost 
 sight of the respect due their mother country. Their 
 numerous letters and petitions to the King, to the 
 Parliament, and to the people of Britain, all, all, 
 breathe the full spirit of dutiful children, and of 
 loving brothers. In terms the most modest and 
 pathetic, they state the extreme injustice and barbar- 
 ity of such measures — their total inconsistency with 
 the spirit of the British Constitution — their positive 
 inadmissibility into America — or, in that event, the 
 certainty of a civil war, with all its fatal effects on 
 the two countries. 
 
 Tempered with meekness, and pointed wirth truth, 
 their arguments reach the hearts of the British 
 patriots, who all fly in eager myriads to extinguish 
 the kindling flames of civil war. Foremost of this 
 noble band is seen the venerable form of Chatham. 
 Though worn with years and mfirniities, he quits 
 his bed ; and, muffled up in flannels and furs, crawls 
 to the house of lords, to give his last advice, and yet 
 avert, if possible, the impending ruin. He rises to 
 speak. A solemn silence prevails, while the looks 
 of the crowded audience are bending forward upon 
 him, to catch the accents of his magic tongue. His 
 eyes are upon the ground : but his thoughts are not 
 there : they are travelling like sun-beams over all 
 the earth. Britain and America, with all their 
 population and interests, lie open before his vast 
 mind, with the varied evils of the threatened war 
 In Britain he beholds a fearful pause in the pulse ol 
 mdustry and joy — the loom is still — the anvil re 
 sounds no more — while the harbours, late alive with 
 bustling business and cheerful songs, now crowded 
 v/ith silent dismantled ships, present a scene ol 
 national mourning. In the colonies He sees the 
 
70 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 plaitjs, lately crowned wilh joyful harvests, now 
 covered with armed bands of Britons and Americana 
 rushing to murderous battle — while in Europe, the 
 proud Spaniard, the sarcastic Gaul, and broad grin- 
 ning Hollander, with shrugs and sneers enjoy the 
 coming fray, as a welcome prelude to the downfalj 
 of their hated rival. He next paints the Americans 
 as native sons of Britain — and, at once, enthusiastic 
 lovers of liberty and of their mother country — ready, 
 as her children, to give her every thing ; but, as her 
 slaves, nothing. Though harshly treated, they still 
 love her, and wish for nothing so much as a hearty 
 reconciliation, and a glad return of all the former 
 friendships and blessings. At thought of this most 
 desirable of all events, the parent soul of the great 
 orator is stirred within him, his angel frame trembles 
 with strong feeling, which heaves his labouring 
 bosom, and swells his changeful face. At length his 
 powerful words break forth. 
 
 " For God's sake then, my lords, let the way be 
 instantly opened for reconciliation. I say instantly; 
 or it will be too late for ever. The Americans tell 
 you — and remember, it is the language of the whole 
 continent — they tell you, they will never submit to 
 be taxed without their own consent. They insist 
 on a repeal of your laws. They do not ask it as a 
 favour. They claim it as a right. They demand it. 
 — And I tell you the acts must be repealed. They 
 will be repealed. You cannot enforce them. But 
 bare repeal will not satisfy this enlightened and 
 spirited people. What! satisfy them by repealing a 
 bit of paper — by repealing a piece of parchment ! 
 N- ! you must declare you have no right to tax them 
 Then they may trust you — then they will come into 
 you. There are, my lords, three millions of whigs 
 hi America. Three millions of whigs, with arms m 
 their hands, are a formidable body ! There are, i 
 trust, double that number of whigs in England. 
 And I hope the whigs in both countries will join and 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 71 
 
 make a common cause. They are united by the 
 strongest ties of sentiment and interest ; and wih 
 therefore, I hope, fiy to support tiieir brethren. In 
 this most alarming and distracted state of our affairs, 
 though borne down by a cruel disease, 1 have crawl- 
 ed to this house, my lords, to give you my best 
 advice, wliich is, to beseech his majesty that orders 
 may instantly be dispatched to General Gage to 
 remove the troops from Boston. Their presence is a 
 source of perpetual irritation and suspicion to those 
 people. How can they trust you, with the bayonet 
 at their breasts ? They have all the reason in the 
 world to believe that you mean their death or slavery. 
 Let us then set to this business in earnest. There is 
 no time to be lost. Every moment is big with dan- 
 ger. Nay, while I am now speaking, the decisive 
 blow may be struck, and millions involved in the 
 dreadful consequences ! The very first drop of 
 blood that is drawn, will make a wound perhaps 
 never to be healed — a wound of such rancorous 
 malignity, as will, in all probability, mortify the 
 whole body, and hasten, both on England and 
 America, that dissolution to which all nations ar^. 
 destined. '^ 
 
 Here was a speech, sufficient, one would have 
 thought, to stop the career of the maddest pohticians. 
 — But neither this, nor the advice of lord Camden 
 nor the numerous and pathetic addresses from Lon- 
 don, Liverpool, and Jamaica, could produce the least 
 change in the views of the ministry. " Let the 
 Americans," said lord Gower with a sneer, " sit 
 talking about their natural rights! their divine rights! 
 and such stuff! we will send them over a few regi- 
 ments of grenadiers to help their consultations I" 
 Thus high-toned was the language of ministry, and 
 thus stoutly bent on the submission of the Ameri- 
 cans. Indeed, in some instances, they would not 
 honour them so far as to give their " humble peti- 
 tions'- a reading ; but consigned them to what the 
 
72 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 whig opposition pleasantly called, " the committee of 
 oblivion.'-' "^^ 
 
 The tea-tax was, of course, at any rate to be col 
 lected. But as there could be no tax without tea, nor 
 tea unless it was sent, several ships of that obnoxious 
 weed were purposely dispatched for America. Lord 
 Fairfax happened to be at Mount Vernon when 
 Washington received advice from a friend in London 
 th:it the tea-ships were about to sail. ..." Well, my 
 lord," said he, " and so the ships, with the gun-pow- 
 der tea, are, it seems, on their way to America !" 
 
 " Well, but colonel, whv do you call it gunpowdei 
 tea." 
 
 " Why, I am afraid, my lord," replied Washing- 
 ton, " it will prove inflammable, and produce an 
 explosion that will shake both countries." 
 
 The event corresponded with Washington's pre- 
 diction. Looked on as sent to insult and enslave 
 them, the ships were every where received with the 
 heartiest curses of the people, who quickly boarded 
 them — in some places furiously emptying their fra- 
 grant cargoes into the flashing deep ; — in others, 
 sternly ordering the captains to depart, under the pen- 
 alty of being instantly tucked up to the yard arms. 
 
 On the arrival of this news in England, the counte- 
 nance of the minister was dark with fury ; and he 
 proceeded, without delay, to mix up for the colonies 
 a cup of fiery indignation, of which Boston, it seems, 
 was to have the largest dose. As that most unduti- 
 ful child had always led ofl" the dance in outrage and 
 rebellion against the parent state, it was determined 
 that she should pay the piper for old and new. . . that 
 her purse should answer for all the tea that had been 
 destroyed . . . that her luxuriant trade, which had 
 made her so wanton, should be taken from her — and, 
 that, in spite of her high looks and proud stomach, 
 <\ie should sit on the stool of repentance, until his 
 gracious majesty, George III. should be pleased to 
 pronounce her pardon ! ' 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON 73 
 
 On the receipt of this inteUigence at Boston, the 
 passions of the people flew np,five hundred degrees 
 above blood-heat ! throughout the continent the fever 
 raged with equal fury. The colonies all extolled 
 Boston for the firmness with which she had asserted 
 her chartered rights .... Liberal contributions were 
 made for her relief: and this ministerial attack on her 
 liberties, was considered as an attack on the hberties 
 of the whole, which were now thought to be in such 
 danger, as loudly to call for a general congress from 
 all the colonies, to deliberate on their common in- 
 terest. This most unkingly body commenced its 
 session in Philadelphia, September 5th, 1774. They 
 began with publishing a bill of rights, wherein they 
 repeated " their loyalty and love to the mother coun- 
 try, together with an earnest wish for constitutional 
 dependence on her. But, at the same time, they 
 begged leave to assure her, that though she, in her 
 excessive fondness, might suffer herself to be bound 
 and insulted by North and Bute, and other Philistine 
 lords, yet they, for their parts, were resolved, like 
 true sons of British Sampsons, to rise and fight to 
 the last locks of their heads. They asserted, and 
 begged leave to do it pretty roundly too, as it was 
 now high time to speak plain, that by the immutable 
 laws of nature — by the principles of the British 
 constitution — and by their several charters, they 
 had a right to liberty, the liberty of British subjects 
 — that their ever honored fathers, at the time of their 
 emigration to this country, were entitled to all the 
 rights of freemen — and since, by such emigration 
 they had neither forfeited nor surrendered these 
 rights — that they their children, were determined, at 
 the risk of every thing short of their eternal salvation, 
 to defend and to transmit them entire to their inno- 
 cent and beloved offspring.'^ 
 
 Millions of choice spirits in England, Scotkind, 
 and Ireland, cried out "that's well said! and may 
 God's arms strike with our American brethren!'' 
 7 
 
14 LIFE OF WASHIiNGTON. 
 
 This was coming to the point, and produced the 
 effect that might have been expected. For, instantly 
 all exportation of arms and ammunition to America 
 was prohibited — large reinforcements were sent to 
 the king's troops at Boston — and every step was 
 taken to compel the colonies to submission. This 
 filled up the measure of American hatred to the 
 ministry, and called forth the most vigorous prepara 
 tions for war. Every ounce of gunpowder was hus- 
 banded like so much gold-dust. Powder-mills and 
 musket-manufactories were erected in most of the 
 colonies ; while others, not liking this slow way of 
 doing things, laid violent hands at once upon all the 
 king's arms and ammunition that could be found. 
 
 The tremendous cloud of civil war was now 
 ready to burst : and April the 19th, 1775, was the 
 fatal day marked out by mysterious heaven, for 
 tearing away the stout infant colonies from the long- 
 loved paps of the old mother country. Early that 
 morning, general Gage, whose force in Boston was 
 augmented to 10,000 men, sent a detachment of 1000 
 to destroy some mihtary stores which the Americans 
 had collected in the town of Concord, near Lexing- 
 ton. On coming to the place, they found the town 
 militia assembled on the green near the road. " Throw 
 down your arms, and disperse, you rebels," was the 
 cry of Pitcairn the British officer ; which was imme- 
 diately followed by a general discharge of the soldiers; 
 whereby eight of the Americans were killed, and 
 several wounded. The provincials retired. But 
 finding that the British still continued their fire, they 
 returned it with good interest ; and soon strewed the 
 green with the dead and wounded. Such fierce dis- 
 charges of musketry produced the effect that might 
 have been expected in a land of freemen, who saw 
 their gallant brothers suddenly engaged in the strife 
 of death. Never before had the bosoms of the swains 
 experienced such a tumult of heroic passions. The.i 
 blowing aside the implements of husbandry, and 
 
KATTLE OF LEXINGTON. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 77 
 
 leaiing their teams in the half-finished farrows, tliey 
 flew to their houses; snatched up their arms; and 
 bursting from their wild shrieking wives and children, 
 hasted to the glorious field, where liberty, heaven 
 born goddess, was to be bought for blood. Pouring 
 in now from every quarter, were seen crowds of 
 sturdy peasants, with flushed cheeks and flaming 
 eyes, eager for battle ! Even age itself forgot its 
 wonted infirmities : and hands, long palsied with 
 years, threw aside the cushioned crutch, and grasped 
 the deadly firelock. Fast as they came up, their 
 ready muskets began to pour the long red streams 
 of fiery vengeance. The enemy fell back, apalled ! 
 The shouting farmers, swift closing on their rear, 
 followed their steps with death, while the British, as 
 fast as they could load, wheeling on their pursuers, 
 returned the deadly platoons. Like some tremendous 
 whirlwind, whose roaring sweep all at once darkens 
 the day, riding the air in tempests ; so sudden and 
 terrible, amidst clouds of dust, and smoke, and flame, 
 the flight of Britain's warriors thundered along the 
 road. But their flight was not in safety. Every 
 step of their retreat was stained with the trickling 
 crimson. Every hedge or fence by which they pas- 
 sed, took large toll of hostile carcasses. They would, 
 m all probability, have been cut ofl" to a man, had 
 not general Gage, luckily recollected, that, born of 
 Britons, these Yankees might possess some of the 
 family valour ; and therefore sent 1000 men to sup- 
 port the detachment. This reinforcement met the 
 poor fellows, faint with fear and fatigue, and brought 
 them safely ofl" to Boston. 
 
 In this their first field, the American farmers 
 gleaned of the British about sixty-three, in slain, and 
 two hundred and eighty wounded and prisoners. 
 The fire of civil discord now broke out a roaring 
 flame : and, with equal ardour, both parties hastened 
 to clap on the " kettle of war." 
 
 National prejudices ought to be scouted from the 
 
 7* 
 
n LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 face of the earth. Colonel Grant actually'" said ir? 
 parliament, that " with fiv^e regiments he could march 
 through all America ! ! !" Oh ! had that profound 
 philosopher but beheld the scrub race above, he 
 might have learned two things — first, that he was 
 never born to be a prophet. \ And secondly, that as it 
 is not to this or that country exclusively, that we are 
 to look for brave men, but in every country where 
 the people are accustomed to breathe the proud air 
 of liberty, and to rejoice in the sweet fruits of their 
 labours as all their own. \ 
 
 Soon as the battle of Lexington was told to the 
 astonished ministry in England, a grand caucus of 
 lords was held, to consider the best ways and means 
 to bring the rebels to their senses. " One spoke after 
 this manner, and another after that. Presently up 
 rose lord George Germaine, and with all Moloch in 
 his looks, hurled the curses of Amalek against the 
 x\mericans. " Vengeance ! gentlemen !" he cried, 
 " vengeance ! your insulted island — your wounded 
 honour — your murdered countrymen — all cry havoc' 
 and bid slip the dogs of war. Gods ! can we sit de- 
 bating here, when rank rebellion lords it over our 
 colonies, and the tongues of rebel curs are red in the 
 blood of our bravest soldiers slain. No ! let our 
 swift-avenging armies fly across the ocean, and light- 
 ing like a tornado on the rebel continent, from end 
 to end, with fire and sword sweep both town and 
 country before them." 
 
 Here the celebrated Mr. Wilkes, in the spirit of a 
 true Briton, roared out : " Aye, that's right ! that^s 
 right ! lord George ! that's exactly according to our 
 
 old English proverb the greater the coward, the 
 
 crueller the devil !" 
 
 " Coward ! Sir !" replied lord George, black with 
 rage. " Coward ! what do you mean by that, sir?" 
 
 "I mean, sir," returned Mr. Wilkes, "that the 
 hero who could not stand fire on the plains of Minden, 
 does well to advise fire and sword in the woods of 
 America '' 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 79 
 
 Upon this, the unlovely names of liar and scoun- 
 dre. were exchanged with a freedom which showed 
 that in the quarrel with America the passions of the 
 two parties knew no bounds. Happily for America, 
 this spirit of Mr. Wilkes was not peculiar to him- 
 self. Thousands of enlightened and virtuous whigs 
 breathed it with equal ardour. The gallant duke of 
 Buckingham, on hearing how bravely the Ameri- 
 cans had behaved at Lexington, exclaimed, " Well, 
 thank God ! there are yet some veins in the world 
 that beat high with British blood !" 
 
 Lord Effingham, also, being required to take up 
 arms against the Americans, returned his sword to 
 the king, saying, " he had received it on oath, to 
 maintain the cause of justice, not of oppression ! !" 
 
 But though the right heads in England were nu- 
 merous, they were not sufficiently so to direct the 
 wrong heads. A feeble minister, and his puny 
 lordlings, still held the reins: and though, compared 
 with the great nation which they governed, they 
 seemed but as monkeys on the back of a mammoth, 
 yet they had, too long, the fatal art so to blindfold 
 and goad the noble animal, as to make her run riot 
 over her own children, and crush thousands of them 
 into their bloody graves. 
 
 On this day, June 12, 1775, General Gage issued 
 his proclamation of rebellion, with threats of heaviest 
 vengeance against the rebels ; extending however in 
 the king's name, the golden sceptre of mercy to all 
 true penitents, Samuel Adams, and John Hancock, 
 excepted. These gentlemen, by their extraordinary 
 zeal in the cause of Uberty, had so mortally offended 
 the ministry, that nothing short of their lives could 
 make atonement. Orders were sent privately to 
 General Gage, to seize and hang them in Boston, or 
 to send them over in irons to be hung in England. 
 But God gave his angels charge of them, so that not 
 a hair of their heads was hurt. 
 
 The British, 10,000 strong, were still in Boston, 
 
 7 
 
80 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 where, ever since the affair of Concord, they had 
 been surrounded by an army of 20,000 provincials, 
 ail so eager to take the city by storm, that it was 
 with the greatest difficulty their officers could res- 
 train them. 
 
 How adorable the goodness of God for ordering 
 that the ministerial attack on our liberties, should fall 
 on the populous and high-toned New-Englanders ! 
 The heroic spirit with which they repelled it, should 
 to eternity, endear them to their southern brethren. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Battle (A Bunker*s-hill — of Sullivan's Island — Declaration of Inde- 
 pendence — Defeat of the Americans on Long-Island — Howe 
 threatens violently — Times squally. 
 
 And fame of Bunker's hill endure, 
 
 Till time itself shall be no more. 
 
 This hiil of fame still lifts its yellow brow, half 
 hid in sedge, on the plains of Charlestown — a lovely 
 port north of Boston, to which it is united by an ele- 
 gant bridge. To confine the British as closely as 
 possible to Boston, the American generals, on the 
 night of June 16, despatched 1500 men to throw up 
 an entrenchment on BunkerVhill. The party did 
 not begin their work till about 12 o'clock; but ex- 
 erted such a spirit, that, by day-break, they had sur- 
 rounded themselves with a tolerably decent ditch — 
 without embrasures indeed, because they had no 
 cannon to stare through them ; nor even a bayonet 
 to bristle over its ridges. 
 
 Soon as the rosy morn appeared, they were disco- 
 vered by the British men of war, which quickly salut- 
 ed theui with their great guns and mortars. But, re- 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 81 
 
 gardless of sliells and shot, Ihe dauntless Yankees 
 still drank their Switchel* and plied their work. 
 
 Finding that his ships of war, with all their thun 
 ders, had not been able to dislodge them, Gage or- 
 dered to their aid 3000 men with a train of artillery, 
 under command of Generals Howe and Pigot. By- 
 twelve o'clock they were all safely landed on the 
 Charlestown side, near Bunker's-hill, the destined 
 place of storm. An interesting scene is now about 
 to open — for not only the British and American 
 armies from the neighbouring heights, are eagerly 
 looking on ; but all the surrounding country, timely 
 alarmed, are running together, in terror, to behold 
 the coming fight. Among the crowding spectators 
 are seen thousands of tender females, with panting 
 bosoms and watery eyes, fixed upon the fields below, 
 anxiously waiting the fate of their brothers, fathers, 
 and husbands. After a hurried moment spent in 
 forming, the British troops began to advance in 
 heavy columns, with all the martial pomp of flying 
 colours and rattling drums. At the same time, by 
 order of Gage, the beautiful port of Charlestown, of 
 300 fine buildings, with a tall steepled church, was 
 wrapped in flames, roaring like distant thunder, and 
 tossed on eddying winds in fiery billows to the 
 clouds — while, far and wide, the adjoining plains are 
 covered with British soldiers in crimson regimentals 
 and shming arms, moving on the attack with inces- 
 sant discharges of muskets and great guns. Close, 
 on the brow of the hill, appears the little fort, dimly 
 seen through smoke, and waved over by one solitary 
 flag, and very unlike to stand the shock of so power- 
 ful an armament. But the Americans are all wound 
 up to the height of the enthusiasm of Liberty : and, 
 
 * A mild and moralizing malmsey, made of molasses and water, 
 which the prudent Yankees drink, to the great benefit of their health 
 ind senses, while too many of their southern neighbours are Qe-fool 
 *ng and bc-poisoning themselves with grog. 
 
82 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 iying close behind their works, with fowling pieces 
 loaded with ball and buckshot, wait impatiently for 
 the approaching enemy. Their brave countrymen^, 
 Putnam and Warren, are in the fort, constantly 
 reminding them of that glorious inheritance. Liberty, 
 which they received from their gallant fathers, and 
 now owe to their own dear children. " Don't throw 
 away a single shot, my brave fellows," said old Put- 
 nam. "Don't throw away a single shot; but take 
 good ami: nor touch a trigger, till you can see the 
 whites of their eyes.'^ 
 
 This steady reserve of fire, even after the British 
 had come up within pistol-shot, led them to hope 
 that the Americans did not mean to resist, and many 
 of their friends on the heights had nearly given up 
 all for lost. But as soon as the enemy were advanced 
 withhi the fatal distance marked, all at once a thou- 
 sand triggers were drawn : and a sheet of fire, wide 
 as the whole front of the breast-work, bursted upon 
 them with most ruinous effect. The British instantly 
 came to a halt — still keeping up their fire — but alto- 
 gether at random and ineffectual, like men in a panic. 
 While full exposed, within pohit-blank shot, ranks 
 on ranks fell before the American marksmen, as the 
 heavy-eared corn before the devouring hail storm, 
 when with whirlwind rage it smites the trembling 
 earth, and rushes on, smoking and roaring through 
 the desolated fields. The ejiemy still mahitained 
 their ground like Britons, though all in front was 
 nothing but one wide destructive flash ; and nought 
 around but heaps of their shrieking, dying comrades. 
 But in a few minutes the slaughter became so 
 general, that they could stand it no longer, but broke 
 and fled in the utmost disorder, to the shore side; and 
 some even took refuge in their boats ! Their oflicers 
 .with some duTiculty brought them back to a second 
 charge, when the Americans, waiting till they had 
 come up within a few rods of the fort, recommenced 
 their fire, with a mortahty which broke and drove 
 
BATTLE OF BUNKEr's HILL. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 85 
 
 them again. Some of the officers attempted to bring 
 tnem en a third time, but others cried out, "that it 
 "w as no better than murder \" It is probable they 
 would hardly have made another effort, had not the 
 generals Clinton and Burgoyne, spectators of their 
 defeat, hastened over fronj Boston with fresh troops 
 to their aid/^ 
 
 The Americans, being nearly destitute of ammuni- 
 tion, and attacked by such superior force, were 
 obliged to retreat, which they did in tolerable order, 
 but not till they had given the enemy, as they 
 mounted the works, their last cartridges, and to some 
 of them the buts of their guns — for want of bayonets. 
 The British, 'tis true, by such great advantage of 
 numbers and weapons, gained the day; but sung no 
 le deum. To have given 1350 men killed and 
 wounded, for a poor ditch of 12 hours labour, 
 seemed to them a bargain hardly worth thanking 
 God for. 
 
 Among the Heroes whom this day immolated on 
 the altar of Patriotism, was Dr. Joseph Warren, 
 whose memory will be held sacred as long as grati- 
 tude or honour live among men. The British lost 
 Major Pitcairn, author of the murders at Lexington, 
 a few weeks before ! 
 
 During the autumn and wmter of 1775, Washing- 
 ton could effect nothing against the British, but to 
 hold them close confined in Boston, where the scurvy 
 prevailed, and proved very fatal. To remedy this 
 evil, immense quantities of livestock and vegetables 
 were shipped from Britahi — 5,000 fat oxen; 14,000 
 sheep — 12,000 hogs, with 22,000 pounds sterhng 
 worth of sour-crout ! ! ! And nearly the same amount 
 m hay, oats and beans, for a single regiment of 
 cavalry !! "Blessed are the meek!'' for they shall 
 save a world of expense. 
 
 In consequence of some disturbances this year, m 
 South Carolina, in favour of the ministry. Sir Peter 
 Parker was dispatched with nine ships of war, and 
 
86 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 a iargj land force, commanded b^r Clinton and Ccrn 
 walks, to make an attempt on Charleston, the capi- 
 tal. Before the ships could be brought to pay theii 
 respects to the town, they must, it seems, pass a 
 little fort on Sullivan's Island. This, however, 
 being defended only by raw militia, was hardly 
 looked on as an obstacle. Happily for America, the 
 command of the fort had been committed to General 
 Moultrie ; for the chief in command, Gen. Charles 
 Lee, though otherwise brave, was ever in the frights 
 at the thought of a British man of war ; and for a 
 general, much too free in lendmg his fear to others. 
 For, while Moultrie was showing him the fort, and 
 in the language of a fiery patriot was boasting what 
 handsome resistance he hoped it would make ; Lee 
 with infinite scorn replied, "Pshaw ! a mere slaughter 
 house ! a mere slaughter house ! a British man of 
 war will knock it about your ears in half an hour!" 
 He even proposed to abandon the fort ! The 
 courage of one man saved Charleston, and perhaps 
 the State. That fortunate man was John Rutledge, 
 Esq., governor of South Carolina. He insisted that 
 the fort should be defended to the last extremity. 
 Moultrie was called in. " Well, General Moultrie," 
 said Gov. Rutledge, " what do you thmk of giving 
 up the fort !" Moultrie could scarcely suppress his 
 indignation. " No man, sir," said he to Lee, " can 
 have a higner opinion of the British ships and sea- 
 men than I have. But there are others who love 
 the smell of gunpowder as well as they do ; and 
 give us but plenty of powder and ball, sir, and let 
 them come on as soon as they please." His courage 
 was quickly put to the test; for about 10 o'clock, on 
 the 28th of June, in the glorious 1776, Sir Peter 
 Parker, with seven tall ships formed his line, and 
 bearing down within point-blank shot of the fort, let 
 go his anchors and began a tremendous fire. At 
 every thundering blast he fondly hoped to see the 
 militia take to the sands like frightened rats from an 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 87 
 
 old barn on fire. But, widely different from his» 
 "hopes, the miUtia stood their ground, firm as thf 
 Black-jacks of their land ; and levelling their four- 
 and-twenty pounders with good aim, bored the oIq 
 liearts of oak through and through at every fire 
 Their third broadside carried away the springs on 
 the cables of the commodore's ship, which immedia- 
 tely swung around right stern upon the guns of the 
 fort — " Hurra ! my sons of thunder," was instantly 
 the cry along the American battery, " look hand- 
 somely to the commodore ! now m.y boys, for your 
 best respects to the commodore !'* Little did the 
 commodore thank them for such respects ; for in a 
 short time he had 60 of his brave crew lying lifeless 
 on his decks, and his cockpit stowed with the wound 
 ed. At one period of the action, the quarter-deck 
 v/as cleared of every soul, except Sir Peter himself 
 Nor was he entirely excused ; for an honest cannon 
 ball, by way of broad hint that it was out of charac- 
 ter for a Briton to fight against liberty, rudely 
 snatched away the bag of his silk breeches. Thus 
 Sir Peter had the honour to be the first, and I believe 
 the only Sans Culotte ever heard of in American 
 natural history ! ! 
 
 The Americans stood the fire like Salamanders ; 
 for the neighbouring shoreswere lined with thousands 
 of their dearest relatives, anxiously looking on ! the 
 British tars, poor fellows ! had no sisters, mothers, 
 nor wives, spectators of their strife ; but fought, not- 
 witlistanding, with their wonted lieroism. Long 
 accustomed to mastery in battles with the French 
 and greatly out-numbering the fort both in men and 
 guns, they counted on certain victory ; and though 
 drreadfuUy handled, scorned to yield. Immense 
 were the exertions on both sides ; and while the 
 powder of the fort lasted, the conflict was awfully 
 grand — From ships to fort, and from fort to ships 
 agam, all below seemed one stream of solid fire ; all 
 abo s'e, one vast mountain of smoke darkening the 
 
8a MFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 day, while unintermitted bursts of thunder deafenec: 
 all ears, and far around shook both land and sea. 
 
 The heroes in the fort won immortal honour. One 
 brave fellow, a Sergeant Jasper, observing the flag- 
 staff shot away, jumped down from the fort on the 
 beach, in the hottest fury of the battle, and snatching 
 up he flag, returned it to its place, streaming defi- 
 ance, with a — " Hurra, my boys, liberty and America 
 for ever." Governor Rutledge rewarded him with a 
 sword. Another Sergeant, M'Donald, while roaring 
 away with his 24 pounder, was terribly shattered by 
 a cannon ball. When about to expire, he lifted up 
 his dying eyes and said — " My brave countrymen, I 
 die ; but don't let the cause of Liberty die with me." 
 Now louder and louder still, peal on peal, the Ame- 
 rican thunder burst forth with earth-trembling crash- 
 es : and the British ships, after a long and gallant 
 struggle, hauled off with a good fortnight's worth of 
 work for surgeons, carpenters and riggers. 
 
 Sir Peter was so dumb-founded by this drubbing, 
 tliat it took him full eight-and forty-hours to recover 
 his stomach for his beef and pudding. So wonderful- 
 ly had it let him down, that even his black pilots grew 
 impudent upon him. For as he was going out over 
 the bar, he called to Cudjo (a black fellow, a pilot 
 who was sounding the depth of the water) " Cud- 
 jo ! (says he) what water have you got there .^" 
 
 " What water, massa ? what water ? why salt 
 water, be sure, sir ? — sea water alway salt water, an't 
 he, massa ?" 
 
 " You black rascal, I knew it was salt water. 1 
 only wanted to know how much water you have 
 there ?" 
 
 <' How much water here, massa ? how much water 
 here ! God bless me, massa ! where I going get quart 
 pot for measure him?" 
 
 This was right down impudence; and Cudjo richly 
 deserved a rope's end for it ; but Sir Peter, a good 
 naturod man, was so tickled with the idea of measur • 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 89 
 
 ing the Atlantic ocean with a quart pot, that he broke 
 into a hearty laugh, and ordered Cudjo a stiff drink 
 of grog. 
 
 'Twas the celebrated Samuel Chase, the Demos- 
 thenes of Maryland, who first taught the startler, 
 vaults of Congress hall to re-echo the name of Inde 
 pendence. After enumerating many a glaring m 
 stance of mmisterial violation of American rights- 
 on all of which George III., the expected father ol 
 his people, had looked with a most unfatherly calm- 
 ness — his countenance became like the dark stormy 
 cloud edged with lightning — then swinging his arm 
 m the air, with a tremendous stamp and voice of 
 thunder, that made the hollow dome resound, he 
 
 swore a mighty oath, "that he owed no allegiance 
 
 to the king of England !" 
 
 Many in Congress trembled at hearing such a 
 speech ; and, on mention of Independence, felt the 
 pang which nature feels when soul and body are 
 parting. But fearing that " true friendship could 
 never grow again, where wounds of deadly hate had 
 pierced so deep," they at length resolved to part. 
 The gentlemen appointed by Congress to frame the 
 declaration of Independence, were Thomas Jeffer- 
 son, John Adams, Du. Franklin, R. Sherman and 
 R. Livingston. On hearing their nomination to a 
 task so high and arduous, they met ; and after some 
 conversation on the subject, parted, under the agree- 
 ment that each of their number should draft his own 
 declaration, and read it next day, in rotation to the 
 rest. At the fixed hour next day, they met^ — but 
 " who should read first," was the question. Mr, 
 Jefferson was fixed on ; and, after much importunity, 
 consented to read his form, which had the honour to 
 give such complete satisfaction, that none other was 
 read. 
 
 A few days after this, Lord Howe came upon the 
 coast with a forest of men of war and transports, 
 shading far and wide the frightened ocean, and 
 
 8* 
 
yo LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 beaiing nearly 40,000 men, British, Hessians, and 
 Waldeckers. Supposing that this had intimidated 
 the American commander, Lord Howe wrote a letter 
 to him, directed — " George Washington, Esq." This 
 the general refused to receive ! looking on it as an 
 iusnlt to Congress under whom he had the honour to 
 bear the commission of Commander in Chief, and 
 should have been addressed as such. General Howe 
 then sent an officer (Colonel Patterson) to converse 
 with him on the subject of reconciliation — Havmg 
 heard what he had to say, Washington replied, " by 
 what has yet appeared, sir, you have no power bul 
 to grant pardons. But we who have committed nc 
 fjiuits, want no pardons; for we are only fighting 
 for our rights as the descendants of Englishmen." 
 
 The unfortunate defeat of Long-Island now took 
 place on August 28th, which though the hottest day 
 in the year, had like to have been the freezing point 
 in the American affairs. For on this day, the British, 
 with an infinite superiority of force, after having de- 
 feated the Americans with great loss, were investing 
 the slender remains of their army ; and had actually 
 broke ground within six hundred yards of the little 
 redoubt that feebly covered their front. Soon as it 
 was dark, Washington ordered the troops to convey 
 their baggage and artillery to the water side, whence 
 it was transported over a broad ferry all night long, 
 with amazing silence and order. Providentially a 
 thick fog continued next morning till ten o'clock ; 
 when that passed away, and the sun broke out, tire 
 British were equally surprised and enraged to see the 
 rear guard with the last of the baggage in their boats, 
 and out of all danger. 
 
 Lord Howe, supposing that such a run of misfor- 
 tunes must have pat congress into a good humour to 
 think about peace, signified a willingness to have a 
 grand talk on the subject. Congress sent Dr. Frank- 
 lin, Mr. Adams, and Mr. Rutledge, each with his 
 belt of wampum. But finding that his lordship was 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 91 
 
 ■till harping on the old string, pardons ! pardons ' 
 they very soon closed the conference. 
 
 Towards the close of the trying campaign, it is a 
 fact, that Washington had not 3000 men ; and even 
 these were so destitute of necessaries, that nothing 
 but their love and veneration for him kept them to- 
 gether. And with this handful he had to oppose a 
 victorious army, of nearly forty thousand veterans'! 
 But Jehovah, the God of Hosts, was with him : and 
 otV times, in the ear of the slumbering hero, his voice 
 was heard, " fear not ; for I am with thee. Be not 
 dismayed; for I am. thy God." — Hence under all 
 the disheartening circumstances of this campaign, 
 Washington not only kept up his own spirits, but 
 cheered those of his drooping comrades. Hearing 
 his officers one day talk about the gloominess of the 
 American affiairs, he humorously clasped his necl* 
 with his hands, and said with a smile, " I really can 
 not believe yet, that my neck was ever made for a 
 halter!" 
 
 For four months during the summer and fall oi 
 1776, the Americans were obliged to retreat before 
 the enemy, who completely over-ran the Jerseys, fill- 
 ing every town and hamlet with their victorious 
 troops — During their pursuit through the Jerseys, the 
 behaviour of the Hessians towards the country peo- 
 ple was barbarous in the extreme. To make them 
 fight the better, it seems that they had been told that 
 the Americans, against whom they were warring, 
 were not (like the Europeans) Christians and gentle- 
 men, but mere savages, a race of Cannibals, who 
 would not only tomahawk a poor Hessian, and haul 
 ofl^ his hide for a drum's head, but would just as leave 
 barbacue and eat him as they would a pig. " Vat ! 
 Vat !" cried the Waldeckers, with eyes staring wild 
 and big as billiard bails, " Vat ! eat Hessian man up 
 uke vun hog ! Oh mine God and Vader ! vot peoples 
 ever been heard of eat Christian man before ' Vy 
 shure, des Mericans must be de deble." 
 
92 ' LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 This was Hessian logic : and it inspired them with 
 the utmost abhorrence of the Americans, to whom 
 they thought the worst treatment much too good — 
 they burnt houses — destroyed furniture — killed the 
 stock — abused the women ! and spread consterna- 
 tion and ruin along all their march. 
 
 To save their families from such horrid tragedies, 
 the Americans flocked in by thousands to general 
 Howe, to take the oath of allegiance. And the best 
 judges were of opinion, that this alarming apostacy 
 would soon become general throughout the two great 
 states of Pennsylvania and New-Jersey ! And indeed 
 no wonder ; for to most people it appeared that the 
 cause of liberty was a gone cause. But, still firm as 
 the iron rudder-bands that maintain the course of the 
 ship in her trembling flight over raging seas, so firm- 
 ly did Washington cleave to his countrymen, and 
 cover their retreat. 
 
 They had been obliged to retreat from Long- 
 Island to New-York, from New-York, over the Hud- 
 son, to New-Jersey, and now over the Delaware, to 
 Pennsylvania. " My God !" general Washington, 
 " how long shall we retreat ?" said general Reed, 
 " where shall we stop ?" " Why sir," replied Wash- 
 nigton, " if we can do no better, we'll retreat over 
 every river in America ; and last of all over the 
 mountains, whence we shall never lack opportunities 
 to annoy, and finally, I hope, to expel the enemies 
 of our country." 
 
 But, God be thanked, our toils and trials were not 
 to be pushed to such sad extremities : for general 
 Howe, having driven the Americans to the western 
 side of the Delaware, stationed 4000 men in Trenton, 
 Bordentown, and Burlington, on its eastern bank j 
 and then returned with the main army to eat their 
 winter puddings in Brunswick and New-York. Here 
 Washington, with joy, first discovered an opportu- 
 nity to make a blow. Not doubting, but that such 
 a long rrui of success had taught the enemy to llii/ik 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 9b 
 
 rery highly oi themselves, and as meanly . f the 
 Americans ; and suspecting, too, that at Christmas, 
 which was close at hand, instead of watching and 
 praying like good Christians, they would, very like- 
 ly, be drinking and hopping like fools, he determined 
 then and there if possible to break up their winter 
 quarters. To this end he broke his little remnant 
 of an army into three divisions ; two of which he 
 committed to Generals Ewing and Cadwallader to 
 attack at Bordentown and Burlington. The third he 
 meant to lead in person to the heavier charge on 
 Trenton. Every thing being in readiness by Christ- 
 mas night, ad soon as it was dark, they struck their 
 tents, and moved off in high spirits, once more to try 
 their fortune against an enemy long victorious. But 
 alas ! the enthusiasm of the gallant Cadwallader and 
 Ewing was soon arrested; for on arriving at the 
 river, they found it so filled with ice, as to preclude 
 all possibility of crossing. Thus, to their inexpressi- 
 ble grief, was blasted the ardent wish to aid their 
 beloved chief in this his last bold attempt to save 
 America. Ignorant of the failure of two-thirds ol 
 his plan, Washington and his little forlorn hope, 
 pressed on through the darksome night, pelted by an 
 incessant storm of hail and snow. On approaching 
 the river, nine miles above Trenton, they heard the 
 unwelcome roar of ice, loud crashing along the angry 
 flood. But the object before them was too vast to 
 allow one thought about difficulties. The troops 
 were instantly embarked, and after five hours of in- 
 finite toil and danger, landed, some of them frost 
 bitten, on the same shores with the enemy. Form- 
 mg the line, they renewed their march. Pale, and 
 slowly moving along the neighbouring hills was seen, 
 (by Fancy's eye) the weeping genius of liberty. 
 Driven from the rest of the world, she had fled to the 
 wild woods of America, as to an assured asylum of 
 
 resL Here she fondly hoped, through long 
 
 unfailing tiuie, to see her children pursuing theii 
 
94 LIFE OF WASHLNGTON. 
 
 cheerful toils, unstarved and uncrushed by the inhu 
 man few. But alas ! the mhuman few, with fleets 
 and armies, had pursued her flight ! Her sons had 
 gathered around her, but the}' had failed — some, on 
 their bloody beds ; others dispersed ; all desponding 
 One little band alone remained ! and, now, resolved 
 to defend her or perish, were in rapid march to face 
 her foes. Pale and in tears, with eyes often lifted to 
 Heaven, she moved along with her children to wit- 
 ness perhaps the last conflict. 
 
 * • The Sun had just tipped with gold the adjacent 
 hills, when snowy Trenton, with the wide-tented 
 fields of the foe, hove in sight. To the young in arms 
 this was an awful scene : and Nature called a short 
 lived terror to their hearts. But not unseen of 
 Washington was their fear. He marked the sudden 
 paleness of their cheeks, when first they beheld the 
 enemy, and quick, with half-stifled sighs, turned on 
 him their wistful looks. As the big hon of Zara, 
 calUng his brindled sons to battle against the mighty 
 rhinoceros, if he mark their falling manes, and sees 
 them crouching to his side, instantly puts on all his 
 terrors — his eyes roll in blood — he shakes the forest 
 with the deepening roar, till, kindled by their father's 
 fire, the maddening cubs swell with answering rage, 
 and spring undaunted on the monster. Thus stately 
 and terrible rode Columbia's first and greatest son, 
 along the front of his halting troops. The eager 
 wish for battle flushed over his burning face, as, rising 
 on his stirrups, he waved his sword towards the 
 hostile camp, and exclaimed, " There ! my brave 
 friends ! there are the enemies of your country ! and 
 now, all I ask of you, is, just to remember what you 
 are about to fight for. March !" His looks and 
 voice rekindled all their fire, and drove them undaunt- 
 ed to the charge. The enemy saw their danger 
 when it was too late ! but, as if resolved by taxing 
 their courage, to pay for their carelessness, they roused 
 Ihe liiunder of their drums, and flew to arms. But 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON 95 
 
 before they could form, the Americans, led on by 
 Washington, advanced upon them in a stream ol 
 lightning, which soon decided the contest. By the 
 musket of the intrepid captain (now General) Freling- 
 huysen, of New Jersey, fell Col. Rahl, a brave Ger- 
 man who commanded the enemy. The ghosts of forty 
 of liis countrymen accompanied him; and very nearly 
 one thousand were made prisoners. Five hundred 
 British horse effected their escape to Bordentown. 
 Could Ewmg and Cadwallader have crossed the 
 river, agreeably to Washington's plan, the enemy's 
 whole line of cantonments would have been com 
 pletely swept ! ! 
 
 To rouse his desponding countrymen Washington 
 immediately marclied down to Philadelphia, and 
 made triumphal entry with his prisoners, preceded 
 by their cannon and colours, and wagons, bristling 
 with muskets and bayonets. The poor tories couid 
 scarcely believe their o\weyes. Many of the whigs 
 v/ept for joy. 
 
 To remove from the minds of the Hessians, their 
 ill-grounded dread of the Americans, Washington 
 took great care, from the moment they fell into his 
 hands, to have them treated with the utmost tenderness 
 and generosity. He contrived that the wealthy Dutch 
 farmers should come in from the country and converse 
 with them. They seemed very agreeably surprised 
 at such friendly attentions. The Dutchmen at length 
 proposed to them to quit the British service and 
 become farmers. — At this the Hessians paused a little 
 and said something about parting with their country. 
 
 " Your country !" said the farmers. " Poor fel- 
 lows ! where is your country? You have no country. 
 To support his pomps and pleasures yourprlTice has 
 torn you from your country, and for 30/. a-head solff 
 you like slaves to fight against us, who nevei 
 troubled you. Then leave the vile employment anc 
 come live with us. Our lands are rich. Come help 
 us to cultivate them Our tables are covered with 
 
S6 IJFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 fat meats, and with milk and honey. Come sit down 
 and eat with us like brothers. Our daughters are 
 young and beautiful and good. Tlien shew your- 
 selves worthy, and you shall have our daughters : 
 and we will give you of our lands and cattle, that 
 you may work, and become rich and happy as we 
 are. You were told that General Washington and 
 the Americans were savages and would devour you! 
 But from the moment you threw down your arms, 
 have they not been as kind to you as you had any 
 right to expect ?" 
 
 "0 yes!" cried they, "and a thousand times 
 more kind than we deserved. We were told the 
 Americans would show us no pity, and so we were 
 cruel to them. But we are sorry for it now, since 
 they have been so good to us : and now we love the 
 Americans, and will never fight against them any 
 more !" 
 
 Such was the effect of Washington's policy; the 
 divine policy of doing good for evil. It melted down 
 his iron enemies into golden friends. It caused the 
 Hessian soldiers to join with the American farmers ! 
 — not only so, but to write such letters to their 
 countrymen, tliat they were constantly breaking 
 loose from the British to run over to the Americans 
 — insomuch that in a little time the British would 
 hardly trust a Hessian to stand sentinel ! 
 
 Though this victory was gained on the 26th of 
 December, yet we find Washington again, on the 
 1st of January, across the angry Delaware, with his 
 country's flag held waving over the heights of Tren- 
 ton. Lord Cornvvallis advanced in great force to 
 attack him. The Americans retreated through the 
 town, and crossing the Sanpink (a creek that runs 
 along its eastern side,) planted their cannon near the 
 ford, to defend its passage. The British army 
 following, close in their rear, entered the town about 
 four o'clock ; and a heavy cannonade commenced 
 between the two armies, which were separated only 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 97 
 
 by the Sanpink and its narrow valley. « Now, sir!^' 
 said Sir William Erskine to Cornwallis, " now is the 
 lime to make sure of Washington. 
 
 « Oh no !" replied CornwaUis, " our troops havn 
 inarched a good way to-day and are tired. And the 
 old ^ox can't make his escape ; for, with the help oi 
 the Delaware now filled up with ice, we have com- 
 pletely surrounded him. To-morrow morning, fresh 
 and fasting we'll fall upon him, and take him and 
 his ragamuffins all at once !" 
 
 " Ah ! my Lord !" returned Sir William, " if 
 Washington be the soldier that I fear he is, you'L 
 not see him there to-morrow mornhig !" 
 
 Night coming on, the artillery ceased to roar; and 
 lighting up their fires, both armies proceeded to sup- 
 per and to sleep. About midnight, having renewed 
 all the fires, Washington put his little army in motion, 
 and passing along the enemy's rear, hasted to sur- 
 prise a large body of their troops at Princeton. Soon 
 as it was day Cornwallis was greatly mortified to 
 find there was no American army on the banks of 
 the Sanpink. " That's exactly what I feared," said 
 Sir William. Just as they were in deep thought on 
 the matter, they heard the roar of Washington's can- 
 non at Princeton. " There," continued Sir William, 
 « There is Washington now, cutting up our troops." 
 And so it was ; for on arriving at Princeton, about 
 sunrise, Washington met three British regiments, 
 who had just struck their tents, and were coming on 
 in high spirits to attack him at Trenton. In a mo- 
 ment, both parties attacked like heroes. At the first 
 onset the Americans gave way ; but sensible that all 
 'vas at stake, Washington snatched a standard, ana 
 advancing on the enemy, called to his countrymen 
 to follow : his countrymen heard, and rushed on to 
 the charge. Then flash and clash went the muskets 
 and bayonets. Here the servants of George, and 
 there the sons of liberty, wrapped in clouds and 
 flames, and inflicting mutual wounds. 
 
 9 fi* 
 
M LIFE OF WASIIINGTOM. 
 
 « God save the king !" the British heroes cried, 
 
 « And God for Washington !" Columbia's sons replied. 
 
 The name of Washington imparted its usual 
 animation to his troops. The enemy gave way in 
 all quarters, and were pursued four miles. Tiie 
 victors returned with 400 prisoners ; the bayonet had 
 stopped 120 on the field. But rhey fell not alone 
 The gallant Mercer, and sixty-three of his brave 
 countrymen sleep with them. But the strife of the 
 heroes was but for a moment ; and they have forgot- 
 ten their wounds. Together now, they feast in 
 Paradise, and when meet their eyes of love, their 
 joys are not dashed by the remembrance of the 
 past. 
 
 The British officers gave Washington full credit 
 for such fine strokes of generalship, and began lo 
 look thoughtful whenever his name was mentioned. 
 
 The enemy on the 1 5th of January drew in ah 
 their forces to winter-quarters at Brunswick, \\ here 
 Washington continued to thin their numbers by cut- 
 ting oft' their foraging parties ; so that every \oa<X of 
 hay, or dish of turni[>s they get, was at the p;loo of 
 their lives. 
 
 Thus gloriously, in ten days, was turned Ine tide 
 of victory in favour of America, by him whom 
 Heaven, in mercy not to America alone, but to 
 Britain, and to the world, had raised up to found 
 here a wide empire of liberty and virtue. The 
 character of Washington was exalted to the highest 
 pitch, even throughout Europe, where he was gene- 
 rally styled the American Fabius, from the famous 
 Roman general of that name, who opposed Hannibal 
 with success. A distinction to which he was justly 
 entitled, from the invincible firmness with which he 
 rejected every finesse of the British gener-ils ; as 
 also, that admirable judgment with which he suited 
 the defence of the nation to the genius and abilities 
 of the people, and to the natural advantages of tha 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 9fe 
 
 country, thereby not allowing the enemy o pront by 
 their great superiority of numbers, discipline, and 
 artillery, and constantly cutting theiTi off by skir- 
 mishes and surprise. 
 
 The ministerial plan for 1777, was to reduce the 
 Americans, by intercepting all communications be- 
 tween the northern and southern states ! To effect 
 this object General Howe, with 20 thousand men, 
 was to go round from New York to the Head of 
 Elk, and thence march on, due north, through Phila- 
 delphia ; while General Burgoyne, with 10,000 men, 
 setting out from Canada, was to pass down the 
 lakes, and thence due south to meet his colleague 
 Howe ; the straight line, formed by the junction of 
 these two gentlemen, was to possess such virtues, 
 that It was supposed no American could be found 
 hardy enough to set foot over it ! ! 
 
 Accordingly, July 23, General Howe left Sandy 
 Hook ; sailed up the Chesapeake ; landed at the 
 mouth of Elk River ; and with but little interruption, 
 except at Brandywine, marched on to Philadelphia. 
 Into that elegant city, on the 26th of September, 
 1777, he entered in triumph; fondly supposing, that, 
 in America, as in Europe, the capture of the city 
 was equivalent to the reduction of the country. But 
 instead of finding himself master of this great conti- 
 nent, whose rattle-snakes alone in the hand of 
 heaven, could scourge his presumption ; it was with 
 no small difficulty he could keep possession of the 
 little village of Germantown. For, on the morning 
 of the 4th of October, Washington made an attack 
 on him with such judgment and fury, that his troops 
 gave way in every quarter. " The tumult, disorder 
 and despair in the British army,'' says Washington, 
 " were unparalleled." But in the very moment ot 
 the most decisive and glorious victory, when some 
 of the provincial regiments had more prisoners than 
 men, the Americans, through the mistake of an 
 officer, who had drank too freely, began to retreat '* 
 
 COFt 
 
100 LIFK OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 VVasliington's grief and mortification were inex 
 pressible. 
 
 But while he was annoying the enemy by land, he 
 did not lose sight of their fleet, which was now forc- 
 ing its way up the Delaware, to keep open to the 
 army a channel of supplies. They arrived, without 
 molestation, within 8 miles of Philadelphia, at a 
 marsh called Mud-Island. On this poor harmless 
 spot, the fittest, however, that nature in this peaceful 
 land of Friends could furnish, Washington ordered a 
 fort to be thrown up, the command of which, with 
 230 men, he assigned to lieutenant-colonel Samuel 
 Smith. On the eastern or Jersey side of the river, at 
 a place called Red-Bank, he ordered a strong redoubt, 
 the command of which, with 250 men, was given to 
 Colonel Greene. These, with some chevaux-de-frise 
 sunk in the river, and a few gallies, formed all the 
 barrier that Washington could present against the 
 British navy. The strength of this barrier was soon 
 put to a fiery trial. Great preparations were made 
 to attack the Americans, at the same instant, both by 
 land and water. Count Donop, with a host of Hes- 
 sians, was sent over to be in readiness to attack Red- 
 Bank, while the flood-tide, groaning under the enor- 
 mous weight, brought up the men of war. The 
 morning was still, and the heavens overcast with sad 
 clouds, as of nature sympathizing with her children, 
 and ready to drop showers of celestial pity on their 
 strifes. No sooner had the ships floated up within 
 three cables length of the fort, than they began a most 
 tremendous cannonade : while cannon-balls and fire- 
 tailed bombs, like comets, fell upon it thick as hail. 
 The gallant Smith and his myrmidons stood the shock 
 to a miracle : and, hke men fighthig under the eye of 
 their Washington, drove two-and-thirty pounders 
 through them with such spirit and success, that in a 
 little tune, the Augusta, a heavy 64 gun ship, took 
 fire, anH blew up, the horrible balloon of many of the 
 »:re\v. Another ship called Khe Merlii , or Black-Bird, 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 101 
 
 soon got on the wing, blew up likewise, and wejit of! 
 in thunder to join the Augusta. 
 
 At the same moment Col. Donop, with his Hes 
 sians, made a gallant attack on the fort at Red-Bank 
 After a few well-directed fires, Greene and his men 
 artfully retired from the out-works. The enemy now 
 supposing the day their own, rushed on in vast num- 
 bers along a large opening in the fort, and within 
 twenty steps of a masked battery, of 18 pounders, 
 loaded with grape-shot and spike-nails. All at once 
 Erebus seemed to open before their affrighted view. 
 But their pains and their terrors were but for a mo- 
 ment. Together down they sunk by hundreds, into 
 the sweet slumbers of death, scarcely sensible of the 
 fatal blow that reft their lives 
 
 Heaps on neaps the slaughter'd Hessians lie : 
 Brave Greene beholds them with a tearful eye. 
 Far now from home, and from their native shore, 
 They sleep in death, and hear of wars no more. 
 
 Poor Donop was mortally wounded, and taken 
 prisoner. The attentions of the American officers, 
 and particularly the kind condolence of the godlike 
 Washington, quite overcame him ; and his last mo- 
 ments were steeped in tears of regret, for having left 
 his native land to fight a distant people who had 
 never injured him. 
 
 On hearing of his misfortune, Washington sent an 
 officer to condole with him. The officer was con- 
 ducted to his apartment ; and delivered the message. 
 The wounded count appeared much affi^cted — a tear 
 swelled in his eye : and he said to the officer, " Pre- 
 sent to General Washington the thanks of an unfor- 
 tunate brother soldier : tell him I expect to rise no 
 more, but if I should, the first exertion of my strength 
 shall be, to return to him my thanks in person.'' The 
 officer sent was Colonel Daniel Clymer, of Berks, 
 Pennsylvania. " See here, Colonel," said the dying 
 count, " see in me the vanity of all human pride ! 1 
 9* 
 
lOf LIFE OF WASHINGTON 
 
 have snone in all the courts of Europe ; and now I 
 am dying I. ere, on the banks of the Delaware, in the 
 house of an obscure Quaker !" 
 
 After six weeks of infinite fatigue, with great loss 
 of men and money, the British forced a passage large 
 enough for their provision ships to Philadelphia, 
 where General Howe and hisoificers held their balls 
 this winter; while 16 miles distant, the great Wash- 
 ington, well pleased with his campaign, retired to 
 winter quarters at Valley Forge. 
 
 While such ill success attended this part of the 
 ministerial plan, viz. to choke the colonies by a mili- 
 tary noose, so tightly drawn from Chesapeake to 
 Champlain, as to stop all circulation between the 
 northern and southern states; a worse fate frowned 
 on their attempt in the north. General Burgoyne, 
 with 10,000 veterans, besides a host of Canadians 
 and Indians, issuing forth from Canada in June 1777, 
 came pouring along down the lakes like the thunder- 
 ing Niagara, with an impetuosity that swept every 
 thing before it. The liatchets of the Indians were 
 drunk with American blood. No age, no sex, could 
 soften them. " The widow's wail, the virgin's shriek 
 and trembling infant's cry," were music in their ears. 
 In cold blood they struck their cruel tomahawks into 
 the defenceless heart of a Miss M'Rea, a beautiful 
 girl, who was that very day to have been married ! 
 Such acts of inhumanity called forth the fiercest 
 indignation of the Americans, and inspired that des- 
 perate resolution of which the human heart is capa- 
 ble, but which no human force can conquer. The 
 New Englanders, who were nearest to these infernal 
 scenes, turned out en masse. Washington hurried 
 on Gates and Arnold with their furious legions ; and 
 to these he joined the immortal Morgan with his 
 dreadful phalanx, 1000 riflemen, whose triggers were 
 never touched in vain, but could throw a ball a 
 nundred yards at a squirrel's head, and never miss 
 
 The first check given to Burgoyne's career, was at 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 103 
 
 Bennington. Hearing that the Americans had laid up 
 large provisions in that town, he detached a Colonei 
 Baum, with 600 Germans, to surprise it: and, at the 
 same time, posted Colonel Breyman in the neigh- 
 bourhood, with an equal number to support him i< 
 necessary. Finding the place too well guarded either 
 for surprise or storm, Baum fortified himself at a lit- 
 tle distance, and sent back for Breyman. The Ame- 
 rican commander, the brave General Starke, salliec^ 
 out, and with great fury attacked Baum's intrench ■ 
 ments without giving him time to receive his rein- 
 forcements. At the first onset, the Canadians and 
 British marksmen took to their heels, and left the 
 poor Germans in the lurch. After a gallant resist- 
 ance, Baum was mortally wounded, and his brave 
 countrymen killed or taken to a man. In the mean- 
 time Breyman, totally ignorant of their catastrophe, 
 arrived at the place of action, where, instead of the 
 cheering huzzas of joyful friends, he was saluted, on 
 all hands, with the deadly whizzing of rifle bullets. 
 After receiving a few close and scorching fires, the 
 Germans hastily betook themselves to flight. The 
 neighbouring woods, with night's sable curtains, en- 
 abled the fugitives to save themselves for that time at 
 least. The enemy lost in these two engagements, not 
 less than 1000 men, killed, wounded, and prisoners. 
 
 About the same time all their forts on the lakes 
 were surprised. Colonel St. Leger was defeated at 
 Fort-Stan wix ; the Indians began to desert ; Arnold 
 and Morgan were coming up like mountain-storms ; 
 and the militia from all quarters were pouring in. 
 Burgoyne began to be alarmed, and wrote to New 
 York for aid ; but finding that Clinton could give him 
 none, and that the salvation of his army depended on 
 themselves, he gallantly determined, on the 7th of 
 October, 1777, to stake his all on the issue of a gen- 
 eral battle. 
 
 His army, in high spirits, was formed within a mile 
 of the iimerican camp. Burgoyne, with the flower 
 
104 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 of the British troops, composed the centre. Briga 
 dier-general Frazer commanded the left. The Ger- 
 mans, headed by major-generals PhiUps and Reides- 
 del, and col. Breyman formed the right. With a fine 
 train of artillery, flying colours, and full roll of mar- 
 tial music, from wing to wing the towering heroes 
 moved. On the other hand, fired with the love of 
 liberty, the Americans poured out by thousands, 
 eager for the glorious contest. Their dear country's 
 flag waves over their heads. The thoughts of the 
 warriors are on their children, and on the chains now 
 forging for their tender hands. The avenging pas- 
 sions rise, and the battle moves. Morgan brougiit on 
 the action. In a large buckwheat field, which lay 
 between the two armies, he had concealed his famous 
 regiment of riflemen. The enemies, chiefly Cana 
 dians and Indians, unsuspiciously advance. They 
 were suffered to come within point blank shot, when 
 they received a general fire, which strewed the field 
 with their dead bodies. Morgan pursued ; but was 
 soon met by a heavy reinforcement from the British, 
 who quickly drove him, in turn. Arnold then moved 
 on to support Morgan ; and, in a short time, with 
 nine heavy regiments was closely engaged with the 
 whole of the British army, both parties fighting as if 
 each was determined never to yield : while the in- 
 cessant crash of muskets and roar of artillery appear- 
 ed both to sight and sound as if two wrathful clouds 
 had come down on the plain, rushing together, in 
 hideous battle, with all their thunders and lightnings. 
 The weight, however, of the American fire was 
 directed against the enemy's centre, extending along 
 the left wing : and though it was some time sustained 
 with the greatest firmness, yet at length it prevailed, 
 and threw the British uito confusion. But the gallant 
 Frazer flying to their assistance, soon restored their 
 Drder and renewed the fight. Severely galled still 
 by Morgan's rifles on the flanks, and hard pressed at 
 the same time, in front by Arnold, they gave way a 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON 105 
 
 gecond time ; and a second time Frazer's presence 
 revived their valour, and rekindled the battle in all 
 its rage. 
 
 Here Arnold did an act unworthy of the glory of 
 the well fought battle. He ordered up twelve of his 
 best riflemen, and pointing to Frazer, who on horse- 
 back, with brandished sword, was gallantly animat- 
 ing his men, he said : " Mark that officer ! — Himself 
 IS a host ; let me not see him long." 
 
 The riflemen flew to their places, and in a few 
 moments the hero was cut down. With him fell the 
 courage of the left wing, who, being now fiercely 
 charged, gave way, and retreated to their camp. But 
 scarcely had they entered it, when the Americans, 
 with Arnold at their head, stormed it with inconceiv- 
 able fury; rushing with trailed arms through a heavy 
 discharge of musketry and grape shot. The British 
 fought with equal desperation. For their all was at 
 stake ; the Americans, like a whelming flood, were 
 bursting over their intrenchments ; and, hand to hand, 
 with arguments of bloody steel, were pleading the 
 cause of ages yet un born. Hoarse as a mastiff of true 
 British breed, Lord Balcarras was heard from rank to 
 rank, loud-animating his troops; while on the other 
 hand, fierce as the hungry tiger of Bengal, the im- 
 petuous Arnold precipitated his heroes on the stubborn 
 foe. High in air, the encountering banners blazed; 
 there bold waving the lion-painted standard of Bri- 
 tain ; here the streaming pride of Columbia's lovely 
 stripes — while thick below, ten thousand eager war- 
 riors close the darkening files, all bristled with venge- 
 ful steel. No firing is heard. But shrill and terrible, 
 from rank to rank, resounds the clash of bayonets — 
 frequent and sad the groans of the dying. Pairs on 
 pairs, Britons and Americans, with each his bayonet 
 m his brother's breast, fall forward together faint- 
 shridknig in death, and mingle their smoking blood. 
 
 Many were the widows, many the orphans that 
 were made that day. Long did the daughters of 
 
106 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 Columbia mourn their fallen brothers! and often did 
 the lovely maids of Caledonia roll their soft blue eyes 
 of sorrow along the sky-bound sea, to meet the sails 
 of their returning lovers. 
 
 But alas ! their lovers shall return no more. Far 
 distant, on the banks of the roaring Hudson they lie^ 
 pale and helpless on the fields of death. Glassy now 
 and dim are those eyes which once " beamed with 
 friendship, or which flamed m war." Their last 
 thoughts are towards the maids of their love : and 
 the big tears glisten in their eye, as they heave the 
 parting groan. 
 
 Then was seen the faded form of Ocean's Queen, 
 far-famed Britannia, sitting alone and tearful on hei 
 western cliff. With downcast look her faithful lion 
 lay roarmg at her feet ; while torn and scattered on 
 the rock were seen her many trophies of ancient 
 fame. Silent, in dishevelled locks, the goddess sat, 
 absorbed in grief, when the gale of the west came 
 blackening along the vv^ave, laden with the roar of 
 murderous battle. At once she rose — a livid horror 
 bespread her cheeks — distraction glared on her eye- 
 balls, hard strained towards the place whence came 
 the groans of her children ! the groans of her children 
 fast sinking in a distant land. Thrice she essayed to 
 curse the destroyers of her race. But thrice she 
 remembered, that they too were her sons. Then^ 
 wild shrieking with a mother's anguish, she rent the 
 air with her cries : and the hated name of North 
 resounded through all her caves. 
 
 But still in all its rage the battle burned : and both 
 parties fought with an obstinacy, never exceeded. 
 But, in that moment of danger and of glory, the 
 impetuous Arnold, who led the Americans, was 
 ■ dangerously wounded, and forced to retire ; and 
 several regiments of British infantry pouring m to 
 the assistance of their gallant comrades, the Ameri- 
 cans, after many hard struggles, were finally re- 
 pulsed. 
 
 I 
 
1.1FE OF WASHINGTON. 107 
 
 In another quarter, where the strength of the 
 Germans fought, the Americans, led on by Morgan, 
 carried the intrenchments sword in hand. The face 
 of Morgan was hke the full moon in a stormy night, 
 when she looks down red and fiery on the raging 
 deep, amidst foundering wrecks and cries of drown- 
 ing seamen ; while his voice, like thunder on the 
 hills, was heard, loud-shouting his heroes to the 
 bloody charge. The tall regiments of Hesse Cassei 
 fell or fled before them ; leaving their baggage, tents 
 and artillery, in the hands of the victors. 
 
 This was a bloody day to both armies: but so 
 peculiarly disheartening to the British, that they were 
 obliged to retreat that night to Saratoga, where, in a 
 few days, (on the 13th of October, 1777,) they 
 surrendered to the Americans, under Gates, by whom 
 they were treated with a generosity that astonished 
 them. For, when the British were marched out to 
 lay down their arms, there was not an American to 
 be seen ! They had all nobly retired for a moment, 
 as if unwilling to give the pain, even to theii 
 enemies, of being spectators of so humiliating a 
 scene ! Worthy countrymen of Washington ! this 
 deed of yours shall outlive the stars, and the blest 
 sun himself, smiling, shall proclaim, that in the wide 
 travel of liis beams, he never looked upon its like 
 before. 
 
 Thus, gloriously for America, ended the campaign 
 of '77. That of '78 began as auspiciously. In May, 
 Silas Deane arrived from France, with the welcome 
 news of a treaty with that powerful people, and a 
 letter from Louis XVI. to Congress, whom he styled 
 — ^very dear great friends and allies. 
 
 Soon as it was known by the British ambassador 
 at Paris, Lord Stormont, that the king of France had 
 taken part with the Americans, he waited on the 
 French minister, De Vergennes; and with g-'^at 
 agitation mentioned the report, asking if U weiv 
 possible it could be true 
 
108 JJFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 " Very possible, my Lord," replied the smooth 
 Frenchman. 
 
 " Well, I'm astonished at it, sir,'' continued Stor- 
 mont, exceedingly mortified. " America, sir, is our 
 daughter ! and it was extremely indelicate of the 
 French king thus to decoy her from our embraces, 
 and make a vv — e of her !" 
 
 « Why as to that matter, my Lord," quoth Ver- 
 gennes, with the true Gallic shrug, "there is no great 
 harm done. For the king of France is very willing 
 to marry your daughter, and make an honest woman 
 of her. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Lord North, coming to his senses, sends commissioners to America - 
 Clinton evacuates Philadelphia — Washington pursues him — battle 
 of Monmouth — Arnold's apostacy — Andre apprehended — executed 
 — his character 
 
 The news of the total loss of Burgoyne and his 
 army soon reached Parliament, where it produced a 
 consternation never before known in that house. 
 The Ministry, utterly confounded, could not open 
 their lips; while the Whig minority, with great 
 severity, lashed their obstinacy and ignorance. 
 Lord North, beginning now to find, as the great 
 Chatham had foretold, that "three millions of Whigs, 
 with arms in their hands, were not to be enslaved," 
 became very anxious to conciliate ! Commissioners 
 were sent over with offers to repeal the abnoxious 
 taxes ! and also with promises of great favours 
 which Lord North would confer on America, if she 
 would settle the dispute witli the mother country. 
 The better to dispose her towards these offers, elegant 
 j)resents were to be made to her best friends, (such 
 as Washington, the President of Congress, k.c. &.c.,) 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON lOS 
 
 to speak a good word for Lord North's favours ' ' 
 But, observe, Independence was to be out of tht 
 question. 
 
 Doctor Franklin used laughingly to say, that "Lord 
 North and his great favours, put him in mind of an 
 old bawd, and her attempts upon a young virgin, to 
 whom she promised every thing but Innocence. 
 While in robbing her of innocence, the old hag knew 
 well enough that she was robbing the poor girl ot 
 that without which she would soon, in spite of her 
 fine gowns and necklaces, become a miserable out- 
 cast and slave." 
 
 Finding that Lord North, in the multitude of his 
 favours, had entirely forgotten the only one which 
 they valued, i. e. the Independence of their country, 
 the committee of Congress broke off all farther con 
 verse with the ministerial commissioners, who pro- 
 ceeded immediately to try the efficacy of their 
 presents. To Washington, 'tis said, a viceroyship, 
 with tons of gold, was to have been tendered. But, 
 to the honour of the commissioners be it said, not 
 one of their number was graceless enough to breathe 
 the polluted wish into his ear. They had, however, 
 the hardihood to throw out a bait of 10,000 guineas 
 to the President of Congress, Gen. Reed. His 
 answer is worthy of lasting remtmbrance. "Gentle- 
 men," said he, " I am poor, very poor. But your 
 king is not rich enough to buy me !" 
 
 On the 18th of June, the British army, now under 
 the command of Clinton, evacuated Philadelphia for 
 New Yoik. The figure they made on the road had 
 something of the air of the sublime ; for their bag- 
 gage, loaded horses, and carriages, formed a line not 
 less than twelve miles in length. General Washing- 
 ton, whose eye, like that of the sacred dragon, was 
 always open, and fixed upon the enemies of America, 
 immediately crossed the Delaware after them— 
 pushed on detached corps to obstruct their advance 
 — gall their flanks — and fall on their rear, while he 
 
 10 9* 
 
110 IJFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 himself moved on with the main body of the army. 
 By the 27th, Clinton had advanced as far as Mon- 
 mouth : and Washington's troops were close on his 
 flank and rear. Next morning Gen. Lee, with 5000 
 men, was ordered to begin the attack ; Washington 
 moving on briskly to support him. But, as he 
 advanced, to his infinite astonishment he met Lee 
 retreating, and the enemy pursuing. " For God's 
 sake. General Lee," said Washington with great 
 warmth, " what's the cause of this ill-tim'd pru- 
 dence ?" 
 
 *^ No man, sir," replied Lee, quite convulsed with 
 rage, " can boast a larger portipn of that rascally 
 virtue than your Excellency ! !" 
 
 Dashing along by the madman, Washington rode 
 lip to his troops, who, at sight of him, rent the air 
 with " God save great Washington !" 
 
 " My brave fellows," said he, " can you fight ?" 
 
 They answered with three cheers ! " Then face 
 about, my heroes, and charge." — This order was 
 executed with infinite spirit. The enemy, finding 
 themselves now warmly opposed in front, made an 
 attempt to turn his left flank ; but were gallantly 
 attacked and driven back. They then made a rapid 
 push to the right ; but the brave Greene, with a 
 choice body of troops and artillery, repulsed them 
 with considerable slaughter. At the same instant, 
 Wayne advanced with his legion ; and poured in so 
 severe and well directed a fire, that the enemy were 
 glad to regain their defiles. Morgan's rifles distin- 
 guished themselves that day. Washington and his 
 heroes lay upon their arms all night, resolved to fall 
 on the enemy the moment they should attempt their 
 retreat next morning. But during the night, they 
 moved off in silence ; and got such a start, that 
 Washington thought it dangerous, in such hot 
 weather, to make a push after them. The Ameri- 
 cans lost 5S killed — 140 wounded. The British had 
 84.9 killed, and the wounded in proportion. Numbers, 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 11 • 
 
 on both sides, died of the extreme heat, and by drink 
 ing cold water. 
 
 In September 1780, an attempt was made to take 
 off our Washington, and by means which I can hard- 
 ly beheve the old British lion was ever well pleased 
 with. 
 
 1 allude to the affair of Arnold's treason. That 
 which makes rogues of thousands, I mean Extrava- 
 gance, was the ruin of this great soldier. Though 
 extremely brave, he was of that vulgar sort, who 
 havmg no taste for the pleasures of the mind, think 
 of nothing but high living, dress, and show. To rent 
 large houses in Philadelphia — to entertain French 
 Ambassadors — to give balls and concerts, and grand 
 dinners and suppers — required more money than he 
 could honestly command. And, alas ! such is the 
 stuff whereof spendthrifts are made, that to fatten 
 his Prodigality, Arnold consented to starve his Ho- 
 nesty : and provided he might but figure as a gorge- 
 ous Governor, he was content to retail, by the billet 
 and the gill, wood and rum unfairly drawn from the 
 commissary's store ! 
 
 Colonel Melcher, the barrack master, mentioned 
 the matter to Congress, who desired him to issue to 
 General Arnold no more than his proper rations. He 
 had scarcely returned home when Arnold's servant 
 appeared with an order for another large supply of 
 Rum, Hickory wood, &c. &c. 
 
 " Inform your master," said Melcher, " that he 
 can't have so much." 
 
 Arnold immediately came down ; and in a great 
 passion asked Colonel Melcher, if it was true he had 
 protested his bill ? 
 
 " Yes, sir !" 
 
 " And how durst you do it ?" 
 
 " By order of Congress, sir." 
 
 At this, Arnold, half choked with rage, replied, 
 
 '« D n the rascals ! I'll remember them for it. 
 
 Sampson-like I'll shake the pillars of their Liberty 
 temple abovU their ears. 
 
•12 LiFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 On the evacuation of Philadelphia by tiie British, 
 cien. Arnold had been appointed temporary governor 
 of that city, where he behaved like a desperado, who 
 hesitates at nothing to stop the deadly leaks of his 
 prodigality, and to keep himself from sinking. Among 
 other bold' strokes, he seized and sold large quantities 
 of American property, pretending it was British. 
 Complaints were made to Congress, who, unwilling 
 to expose the man who had fought so gallantly for 
 Liberty, treated him with great gentleness : and for 
 the same reason, Washington, after a mild reproof, 
 gave him the command of West Point, with a large 
 body of troops. 
 
 The history of Arnold's embarrassments and his 
 quarrel with his countrymen, soon reached New 
 York. The British commander, well knowmg the 
 ticklish situation of a proud man, caught on the horns 
 of poverty, sends up major Andre, with money in his 
 pocket. The major, by means yet unknown to the 
 public^ got near enough to Arnold to probe him ; and, 
 alas ! found him, both in principle and purse, hollow 
 as an exhausted receiver, and very willing to be filled 
 up with English guineas. English guineas, to the 
 tune often thousand, with the rank and pay of Bri- 
 gadier General, are offered him : and Arnold agrees, 
 Oh ! shocking to humanity ! Arnold agrees to sacri- 
 fice Washington. 
 
 The outlines of the project were, it seems, that 
 Arnold should make such a disposition of the troops 
 at West Point, as to enable Sir Henry Clinton, so 
 completely to surprise them, that they must inevita- 
 bly, either lay down their arms or be cut to pieces — 
 with General Washington among them ! ! The victo- 
 rious British were then, both by land and water, to 
 rush upon the feeble and dispirited residue of the 
 American army, in the neighbourhood, utterly una- 
 ble to resist, when there would follow such a slaugh- 
 ter of men, and such a sweeping of artillery, ammu- 
 nition, stores, &.C. &c., as would completely break 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON US 
 
 down the spirit of the nation, and reduce them to 
 unconditional sybmission to the Ministry ! 
 
 To be certified of this delightful truth, Andre, 
 during Washington's absence from West Point, 
 comes ashore from a sloop of war, with a surtout 
 over his regimentals ; spends a day and night with 
 Arnold ; sees with his own eyes, the dear train laid, 
 the matches lighted, and every thing in readiness, a 
 few nights hence, to send the old Virginia farmer and 
 his republic to destruction. 
 
 Every thing being settled to satisfaction, Andre 
 wishes to set oif to carry the glorious news to Gen- 
 eral Clinton. But, behold ! by a fine stroke of Provi- 
 dential interference, he cannot get on board the ship ! ! 
 Arnold gives him a horse and a pass to go to New 
 York by land. Under the name of Anderson he 
 passes, in safety, all the guards. Now, like an un- 
 caged bird, and light as the air he breathes, he sweeps 
 along the road. His fame brightens before him — 
 stars and garters, coaches and castles, dance before 
 his delighted fancy — even his long-loved reluctant 
 Delia (Miss Seward) is all his own — she joins in the 
 nation's gratitude — softly she rolls her eyes of love, 
 and brightening in all her beauty, sinks on his en- 
 raptured breast ! In the midst of these, too, too 
 happy thoughts, he is met by three young militia 
 men. Though not on duty, they challenged him. 
 He answers by the name of Anderson; shews his 
 pass ; and bounds away. Here the guardian genius 
 of Columbia burst into tears — she saw the fall of her 
 hero, and her country's liberties crushed for ever. 
 Dry thine eyes, blest saint, thy Washington is not 
 fallen yet. The thick bosses of Jehovah's buckler 
 are before the chief; and the shafts of his enemies 
 shall yet fall to the earth, accurst — For, scarce riad 
 Andre passed the young militia-men, before one of 
 them tells his comrades, that " he does not like hia 
 looks;" and insists that he shall be called back, and 
 questioned again. His answers prove him a spy 
 
 10* 
 
114 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 He would have fled : but they level their muskets 
 rrembiiug and pale, he offers them an elegant gold- 
 watch to let him go. No ! He presses on them a 
 purse bloated with guineas. No ! He promises each 
 of them a handsome pension for life — but all in vain. 
 The power that guarded Washington was wroth with 
 Andre. On searching him they find in his boot, and 
 m Arnold's own hand- writing, a plan of the whole 
 conspiracy ! Sons of the generous soul, why should 
 I tell how major Andre died ! The place where his 
 gallows stood is overgrown with weeds — but smiling 
 angels often visit the spot ; and it was bathed with 
 the tears of his foes. 
 
 His candour, on his examination, in some sort ex- 
 piated his crime. It melted the angel soul of Wash- 
 ington : and the tears of the hero were mingled with 
 the ink that signed the death-warrant of the hapless 
 youth. The names of the young men who arrested 
 poor Andre, were, John Paulding, David Williams, 
 and Isaac Van Vert. They were at cards under a 
 large poplar that grew by the road, where the major 
 was to pass. Congress rewarded them with silver 
 medals ; arid settled on each of them ^200 annually, 
 for life. 
 
 American writers have recorded a thousand hand- 
 some things of unfortunate Andre. They have made 
 him scholar, soldier, gentleman, poet, painter, musi- 
 cian, and, in short, every thing that talents and taste 
 can make a man. The following anecdote will show 
 ihat he was much greater still. 
 
 Some short time before that fatal affair which 
 brought him to his end, (said my informant, Mr. 
 Drewy, a painter, now living at Newbern,) a fora- 
 ging party from New- York made an inroad into our 
 settlement near that city. The neighbours soon as- 
 sembled to oppose them ; and, though not above fit- 
 teen years old, I turned out with my friends. In com- 
 pany was another boy, in age and size nearly about 
 my own speed. We had counted on a fine chas« 
 
OAI'TURK OF MAJOR ANDRE. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 117 
 
 Rut the British were not to be driven so easily as v/e 
 had expected. Standing tlieir ground, they not only 
 put us to fliglit, but captured several of our party ; 
 myself and the other boy among them. They present- 
 ly set out with us for New-York : and, all the way, as 
 we were going, my heart ached to think how my poor 
 mother and sisters would be distrcjssed when night 
 came, and I did not return. Soon as they brought me 
 in sight of the prison, I was struck with horror. The 
 gloomy walls, and frightful guards at the doors, and 
 wretched crowds at the iron windows, together with 
 the thoughts. of being locked up there in dark dun- 
 geons with disease and death, so overcame me, that 
 1 bursted into tears. Instantly a richly dressed offi- 
 cer stepped up, and taking me by the hand, with a 
 .ook of great tenderness, said, " My dear boy ! what 
 makes you cry ?" I told him I could not help it when 
 I compared my present sad prospect with the happy 
 one I enjoyed in the morning with my mother ana 
 sisters at home. " Well, well, my dear child, (said he) 
 don't cry, don't cry any more." Then turning to the 
 jailor ordered him to stop till he should come back. 
 Though but a boy, yet I was deeply struck with the 
 wonderful difference betwixt this man and the rest 
 around me. He appeared to me like a brother ; they 
 hke brutes. I asked the jailor who he was. " Why, 
 that's Major Andre, (said he angrily) the adjutant- 
 general of the army ; and you may thank your stars 
 that he saw you ; for I suppose he is gone to the gene- 
 ral to beg you off, as he has done many of your d — d 
 rebel countrymen." In a short time he returned; and 
 with great joy in his countenance called out — " Well, 
 my boys, I've good news, good news for you ! The 
 general has given you to me, to dispose of as I choose ; 
 and now you are at liberty ! So run home to your 
 fond parents, and be good boys ; mind what they tell 
 you: say your prayers; love one another; and God 
 Almighty will bless you." 
 
 And yet Andre perished, on a gallows while Ar- 
 
118 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 aold, after living to old age, died in his bed ! ! ShalV 
 we hence infer with Brutus, that " Virtue is but an 
 empty name ?" and that Andre had been good in 
 vain? God forbid! Goodness and happiness are twins. 
 Heaven hath joined them together, and Hell cannot 
 put them asunder. For proof, we need go no further 
 than to Andre himself— to Andre in prison ! Even m 
 that last and gloomiest scene of his life, we see the 
 power which virtue has to illuminate the dark, to en 
 liven the sad, and to raise her votaries above the ter- 
 rors of death. In the first moment of his capture, 
 when vulgar minds are thinking of nothing but self- 
 preservation, he is thinking of nothing but duty and 
 generosity. Regardless of himself, he is only anxious 
 for Arnold. Having by letter advised that wretched 
 man of his danger, and given him time to escape, he 
 then gallantly asserts his own real character ; and 
 avows himself "the Adjutant General of the British 
 army.'' 
 
 The truth is, he had been sent by Gen. Clinton, on 
 a dirty piece of business for which he was not fit ; 
 and of which he was so heartily ashamed, that he ap- 
 pears to have been willing to atone for it with his life. 
 Hence to the questions put at his trial, he answered 
 with a candour which at once, surprised and melted 
 the Court Martial — he answered, with the candour of 
 a mind which feared its own condemnation mere than 
 that of any human tribunal. — He heard his sentence 
 of death with perfect indifference ; and at the place 
 of execution behaved like one who had fulfilled the 
 high duties of son, brother, and man, with constant 
 attention to a happy immortality. Thus giving the 
 friends of virtue abundant cause to exclaim: 
 
 " Far more true peace the dying Andre felt, 
 Than Arnold ever knew in prosp'rous guilt." 
 
 He, poor wretch, survived ! but only to live a life, at 
 once hated and despised — hated by the British Gene- 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 119 
 
 ral,w]iom he had shown capable of assassinating the 
 man he could not conquer — hated by the British army, 
 whom he had robbed of one of its brightest orna- 
 ments — and hated by the officers, who could not bear 
 to see what they called '' a d — mn'd trator," not only 
 introduced into their company, but placed over their 
 heads ? In short, Arnold was an eye-sore to every 
 man of honour in England, where he was often most 
 grossly insulted. 
 
 Soon after his flight to England with the slender 
 remains of the British army, he went down to South- 
 ampton, where the broken-hearted Mother and Sis- 
 ters of the unfortunate Andre lived. And so Uttle 
 was he acquainted with the human heart, that he 
 called to see them ! On hearing his name announced 
 by the servant, they burst into tears ; and sent him 
 word, that " they did not wish to see him." 
 
 The moment he received Major Andre's letter, 
 the terrified Arnold made his escape to New-York. 
 
 British historians have wondered that he left hi? 
 wife in the power of Washington. But Arnold knew 
 in whom he trusted : and the generous man behaved 
 exactly as Arnold had foreseen ; for he immediately 
 sent him his clothes and baggage ; and wrote a polite 
 letter of condolence to his lady, offering her a convey- 
 ance to her husband, or to her friends in Pennsylvania. 
 
 Washington now waged the war with various 
 success. On the one hand, his hero of Saratoga 
 (Gates) was defeated with great loss, at Camden 5 on 
 the other, the British lost, on the King's-Mountain, 
 the brave Colonel Ferguson, with all his army, 1,400 
 men. Colonel Ferguson and his men were supposed 
 by the British, the most exquisite marksmen alive. 
 And indeed to hear their bravadoes, one would 
 suppose, that give them but guns of a proper calibre, 
 and they would think it a light affair to snuff the 
 moon, or drive the centre of the fixed stars. But the 
 American Kifle-boys soon led them into a truer way 
 of thinking. For in a few rounds they pink'd the 
 
120 LIFE OF WASHINGTON 
 
 brave Colonel, and put 3000 of his exquisite marks- 
 men asleep ; which struck such a wholesome panic 
 into the survivors, that they threw down their arms, 
 and like thrifty gentlemen called out right lustily for 
 quarters. 
 
 But few of the Americans fell ; but among these 
 was one, whose fame " Time with his own eternal 
 lip shall sing." I mean the brave Col. Williams. 
 He it was, whose burning words first kindled the 
 young farmers at their ploughs, and led them to the 
 King's Mountain, to measure their youthful rifles 
 with Ferguson's heroes. On receiving the ball 
 which opened in his breast the crimson sluice of life, 
 he was borne by his aids, into the rear ; where he 
 was scarcely laid down, fainting with loss of blood, 
 before a voice was heard, loud exclaiming, "Hurra! 
 my boys ! the day is our own ! the day is our own ! 
 they are crying for quarters !" Instantly he started 
 as from the incipient sleep of death; and, opening his 
 heavy eyes, eagerly called out, " My God ! who are 
 crying for quarters ?" " The British ! The British !" 
 replied the powder-blackened riflemen. At this, one 
 last beam of joy lighted in a smile on his dying face: 
 then faintly whispering, God be praised ! he bowed 
 his head in everlasting peace. 
 
 Joy follow thee, my brother, to his blest presence 
 who sent thee, a pillar of fire, to blast the mad efforts 
 of men fighting against their brethren ! On earth thy 
 lame shall never fail. Children yet unborn shall lisp 
 the name of Williams. Their cherub lips shall often 
 talk of him whose patriot eye beheld them, afar oft' 
 smiling on the breast, and with a parent's ardoir 
 hasted to ward from their guiltless heads the curses 
 of monarchy. 
 
 After the defeat of Gates, Washington sent on his 
 favourite Greene to head the southern army aga.nst 
 the victorious Cornwallis and Tarleton. With 
 Greene he joined the famous Morgan, whose riflemen 
 had performed such signal service during the war 
 
 1 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 121 
 
 To draw Comwallis's attention from a blow 
 meditated against the British post at Ninety-Six. 
 Greene detached Morgan to Paulet's river, near the 
 neighbourhood of CornwalUs and Tarleton Imme- 
 diaFely the pride of Tarleton rose. He begged of 
 his friend, lord Rawdon, to obtain for him the per- 
 mission of the commander in chief to go and attack 
 Morgan. " By heavens, my lord," said he, " I could 
 not desire a finer feather in my cap than Col. Morgan. 
 Such a prisoner would make my fortune." " Ah, 
 Ben," replied Rawdon very coolly, "you had better 
 let the old wagoner alone." As no refusal could 
 satisfy, permission at length was granted him : and 
 he instantly set out. At parting, he said tc ord 
 Rawdon with a smile, " My lord, if you will be so 
 obliging as to wait dinner, the day after to-morrow, 
 till four o'clock. Col. Morgan shall be one of your 
 lordship's guests." " Very well, Ben," said the 
 other, "we shall wait. But remember, Morgan was 
 brought up under Washington." Tarleton was 
 followed to battle by about 1000 choice infantry and 
 250 horse, with two field pieces. To oppose this 
 formidable force, Morgan had but 500 miUtia, 300 
 regulars, and 75 horse. His militia were but militia. 
 His regulars were the famous Maryland line led by 
 Howard ; men who would have done honour to the 
 plains of Austerlitz. The intrepid Desaix, who turned 
 the tide of war in the bloody strife of Marengo, was 
 only equal to Washington, Col. of the horse. Morgan 
 had no wish to fight. But Tarleton compelled him ; 
 for about two hours before day, on the 17th oi 
 January, 1781, some of Washington's cavalry came 
 galloping into camp v/ith news that the British were 
 but eight miles off, and would be up by day break. 
 Instantly Morgan called a council of war, composed 
 only of Howard, Washington, and himself. " Well, 
 gentlemen," said he, " what's to be done ? shall we 
 fight or fly ? shall we leave our friends to our 
 enemies ; and burning our meal and bacon, so hardly 
 
 11 
 
US LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 got, turn out again into the starving woodc ; or shaU 
 we stand by both, and fight Uke men?" 
 
 " No burning! no flying," replied they, " but let's 
 titand, and fight like men?" 
 
 " Well then, my brave fellows," said Morgan 
 " wake up the troops, and prepare for action." 
 
 The ground, on which this very memorable battle 
 was fought, was an open pine barren. The militia 
 were drawn up about two hundred yards in front of 
 the regulars, and the horse some small distance in 
 the rear. Just after day break, the British came in 
 sight ; and halting within a quarter of a mile of the 
 militia, began to prepare for battle. The sun had 
 just risen, as the enemy, with loud shouts, advanced 
 to the charge. The militia, hardly waiting to give 
 them a distant fire, broke and fled for their horses, 
 which were tied at some distance on the wings of 
 the Maryland line. Tarleton's cavalry pushed hard 
 after the fugitives, and, coming up with them just as 
 they had reached their horses, began to cut them 
 down. Unable to bear that sight, Col. Washington, 
 with his corps, dashed on to their rescue. As if 
 certain of victory, Tarleton's men were all scattered 
 in the chase ! Washington's heroes, on the contrary, 
 sensible of the fearful odds against them, advanced 
 close and compact as the Spartan phalanx. Then 
 sudden and terrible the charge was made ! Like men 
 fighting, life in hand, all at once they rose high on 
 their stirrups ! while in streams of lightning their 
 swords came down, and heads and arms, and caps, 
 and carcasses, distained with spouting gore, rolled 
 fearfully all around. Mournfully from all sides the 
 cries of the wounded were heard, and the hollow 
 groans of the dying. 
 
 Agonizing with rage and grief, Tarleton beheld 
 the flight of his boasted victory, and the slaughter of 
 his bravest troops. He flew to reanimate them. He 
 encouraged — he threatened — he stormed and raved. 
 But all in vain No time was given to rally ; for 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 123 
 
 /ike the heavy ship under crowded canvass, bursting 
 through the waves, so strong and resistless, Wash- 
 ington's squadron went on, hewing down and over- 
 throwing every thing in their way. Confounded b/ 
 such a fatal charge, the British cavalry could not 
 support it ; but broke and fled in the utmost precipi- 
 tation ; while, bending forward over their horses, 
 and waving their blood-stained swords, the loud- 
 shouting Americans pursued. The woods resounded 
 with the noise of their flight. 
 
 As when a mammoth suddenly dashes in among 
 a thousand buffaloes, feeding at large on the vast 
 plains of Missouri ; all at once the inn!imerous herd, 
 with wildly rolling eyes, and hideous bellowings, 
 oreak forth into flight, while, close at their heels, the 
 roaring monster follows. Earth trembles as they 
 dy. Such was the noise in the chase of Tarleton 
 when the swords of Washington's cavalry pursued 
 his troops from the famous fields of the Cowpens. It 
 was like a peal of thunder, loud roaring at first, but 
 gradually dying on the ear as it rolls away along the 
 distant air. 
 
 By this time the British infantry had come up : 
 and, having crossed a little valley, just as they 
 ascended the hill, they found themselves within 
 twenty steps of Howard and his regulars, who 
 received them with a right soldierly welcome, and, 
 taking good aim, poured in a general and deadly 
 fire. A slaughter so entirely unexpected, threw the 
 enemy into confusion. Seeing this wonderful change 
 in the battle, the militia recovered their spirits, and 
 began to form on the right of the regulars. Morgan 
 waving his sword, instantly rode up to them, and 
 with a voice of thunder roared out, " Hurra ! my 
 brave fellows, form, form ! Old Morgan was never 
 beat in his life — one fire more, my heroes, and the 
 day is our own !" With answering shouts, both 
 regulars and militia then advanced upon the eiiemy: 
 and, following their fire with the bayonet, instantly 
 
I LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 decided the conflict. The ground was covered with 
 the dead. The tops of the aged pines shook wiin 
 the ascending ghosts. With feeble cries and groans, 
 at once they rose, Uke flocks of snow-white swans 
 when the cold blast strikes them on the lakes ol 
 Canada, and sends them on wide-spread wings, far 
 to the south to seek a happier clime. 
 
 Washington pursued Tarleton 20 miles ! and, during 
 the race, was often so near him, that he could easily 
 have killed him with a pistol shot. But having 
 strictly forbidden his men to fire a pistol that day, he 
 could not resolve to break his own orders. How- 
 ever, there was one of his men who broke them. At 
 one time Washington was 30 or 40 yards ahead ot 
 his men. Tarleton observing this, suddenly wheeled 
 with a couple of his dragoons to cut him off. Wash- 
 ington, with more courage than prudence, perhaps, 
 dashed on, and rising on his stirrups, made a blow 
 at Tarleton, with such force, that it beat down his 
 guard and mutilated one or two of his fingers. In 
 this unprotected state, one of the British dragoons 
 was aiming a stroke which must have killed him. 
 But the good genii, who guard the name of Wash- 
 ington, prevailed : for in that critical moment a mere 
 dwarf of a Frenchman rushed up, and with a pistol 
 ball shivered the arm of the Briton. The other 
 dragoon attempted to wheel off; but was cut down. 
 Tarleton made his escape. 
 
 Tarleton was brave, but not generous. He could 
 not bear to hear another's praise. When some ladies 
 in Charleston were speaking very handsomely of 
 Washington, he replied with a scornful air, that, "He 
 would be very glad to get a sight of Col. Washington. 
 He had heard much talk of him," he said, "but had 
 never seen him yet." " Why, sir," rejoined one of 
 the ladies, " if you had looked behind you ai the 
 battle of the Cowpens, you might easily have enjoy- 
 ed that pleasure." 
 
 While in the neighbourhood of Halifax, Nort>'^ 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. Ii5 
 
 CarMina, Tarleton dined in a Jarge company. The 
 elegant and witty Mrs. Wiley Jones happened to be 
 of the party. The ladies, who were chiefly whigs, 
 were frequently praising the brave Col. Washington. 
 Tarleton with looks considerably angry, replied, " that 
 he was very much surprised that the Ameiicans 
 should think so highly of Col. Washington ; for, from 
 what he could learn, he was quite an illiterate fellow 
 and could hardly write his own name." " That may 
 be very true (replied Mrs. Jones) " but I believe, sir 
 you can testify that he "knows how to make his 
 mark." Poor Tarleton looked at his crippled finger, 
 and bit his lips with rage. 
 
 General Washington contin'ied the war against 
 the British till 1781 ; when Cornwall is pushed into 
 Virginia, and fortified himself at \'ork-Town. Bat 
 the eye of Washington was upon him ; and with an 
 address, which, the British historians say, was never 
 equalled, he concerted a plan that ended in the total 
 destruction of Cornwallis. He artfully wrote letters 
 to Greene, informing him, that, " in order to relieve 
 Virginia, he was determined immediately to attack 
 New York." These letters were so disposed as to 
 fall mto the right hands. Clinton took the alarm. 
 But while the British general was in daily expecta- 
 tion of a visit from him, Washington and his army, 
 were now across the Delaware, with full stretch to 
 the south, darkening the day with their clouds of 
 rolling dust. Cornwallis saw that the day of his fall 
 was at hand. He had done all that a brave (would 
 to God we could add, a humane) man could do ; but 
 all in vain. On the last day of September, Washing- 
 ton sat down before York, with 100 pieces of heavy 
 artillery. On the 7th of October this dreadful train 
 began to thunder : and the British works sunk before 
 them. Lord Cornwallis. unwilling to expose his 
 army to the destruction of a general assault, agreed 
 on the 17th to surrender. This was justly considered 
 .he close of the war ; which having been begun with 
 
126 LIFE OF WASHINGTOJN. 
 
 supplication, Washington piously ordered to be finish 
 ed with thanksgiving. 
 
 In the siege of Yorktown, the behaviour of the 
 Americans was, as usual, generous and noble. The 
 amiable Col. Scammel, adjutant-general of the Ame- 
 rican army, and uncommonly beloved by them, was 
 dangerously wounded and taken prisoner by some 
 British dragoons, who barbarously trotted him on 
 before them, three miles, into town, where he pre- 
 sently died of fever and loss of blood. Great was 
 the mourning for Scammel. In a few nights after, 
 Washington gave orders to storm two of the enemy's 
 redoubts, which were carried almost in an instant. 
 The British called for quarters : A voice of death 
 was heard, " Remember poor Scammel !"— «< Remem- 
 ber, gentlemen, you are Americans !'' was rejoined 
 by the commander : and instantly the points of the 
 American bayonets were thrown up towards heaven! 
 
 The conduct of the French also, was such as to 
 entitle them to equal praise. 
 
 For when the British marched out to lay down 
 their arms, the French officers were seen to shed 
 tears. They condoled with the British, and tendered 
 them their purses ! — Glorious proof, that God never 
 intended men to be, as some wickedly term it, natural 
 enemies. 
 
 On hearing in Congress the fall of Cornwallis, the 
 door-keeper swooned with joy — on hearing the same 
 news announced in parliament, lord North fell back 
 in his chair, in the deepest distress. On receipt of 
 the glad tidings, Congress broke forth into songs of 
 praise to God : Parliament into execrations against 
 their Prime Minister — Congress hastened to the 
 temple to pay their vows to the Most High ; the 
 Parliament went to St. James's with a petition to the 
 King for a change cf men and measures. The King 
 was graciously pleased to hear the voice of their 
 prayer. Men and measures were changed ; and a 
 decree was passed that whoever should advise war 
 
SURRENDER OF LORD CORNWALLIS. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 13» 
 
 and a farther widening of the breach between Britain 
 and America, should be denounced an equal enemy 
 to both. Then full leafed and green the olive branch 
 of peace was held out to the nations : and the eyes ol 
 millions, on both sides of the water, were lifted in 
 transport to the lovely sign. The stern features ol 
 war were relaxed ; and gladdening smiles began 
 again to brighten over the " human face divine." 
 But Washington beheld the lovely sight with doubt. 
 Long accustomed unerringly to predict what Britain 
 would do, from what he knew she had power to do, 
 he had nothing to hope, but every thing to fear 
 America, without money or credit ! — her officers, 
 without a dollar in their pocket, strolling about camps 
 in long beards and dirty shirts — her soldiers often 
 without a crust in their knapsacks or a dram in their 
 canteens — and her citizens every where sick and tired 
 of war!— Great Britain, on the other hand, every where 
 victorious over the fleets of her enemies — completely 
 mistress of the watery world, and Judas-like, bag- 
 Dearer of its commerce and cash ! with such resources, 
 with all these trumps in her hands, she will play 
 quits, and make a drawn game of it ? Impossible ! 
 but if she should, " it must be the work of that Provi- 
 dence who ruleth in the armies of Heaven and earth, 
 and whose hand has been visibly displayed in every 
 step of our progress to independence." " Nothing," 
 continued Washington, " can remove my doubts but 
 an order from the ministry to remove their fleets and 
 armies." 
 
 That welcome order, at length, was given ' and 
 the British troops, sprucely powdered and perfumed, 
 m eager thousands hied on board their ships. 
 
 " All hands unmoor !" the stamping boatswain cried : 
 " All hands unmoor !" the joyous crew replied. 
 
 Then in a moment they all fly to work. Some 
 seizing the ready handspikes, vault high upon the 
 windlasses j thence coming down ail at once with the 
 
ISO LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 hearty Yo-heave-0, they shake the sounding decKS, 
 and tear from their dark oozy beds the ponderous 
 anchors. Others, with halyards hard strained through 
 the creaking blocks, sway aloft the wide-extended 
 yards, and spread their canvas to the gale, which, 
 with increasing freshness, bears the broad- winged 
 ships in foam and thunder through the waves. Great 
 was the joy of tlie multitude ; for they were hasten- 
 ing to revisit their native land, and to meet those 
 eyes of love which create a heaven in a virtuous 
 breast. But the souls of some were sad. These were 
 the reflecting few, whose thoughts were on the better 
 hopes of former days! To them, the flowing bowl, 
 the lively joke, the hearty laugh and song, gave no 
 delight; nor yet the blue fields of ocean brightly 
 shining round, with all her young billows wantoning 
 before the playful breeze. Their country ruined, and 
 themselves repulsed, how could they rejoice ! Then 
 slowly retiring from the noisy crew, by themselves 
 apart they sat on the lofty stern, high above the 
 burning track which the ships left behind them in 
 their rapid flight. There, deep in thought, they sat 
 with eyes sad fixed on the lessening shores, and ru- 
 minated even to melancholy. The dismal war returns 
 upon their thoughts, with the pleasant days of '76, 
 then bright with hope, but, now, alas ! all darkened 
 in despair. " 'Twas then," said they, " we first 
 approached these coasts, shaded far and wide with 
 our navies, nodding tall and stately over the heaving 
 surge. From their crowded decks looked forth 
 myriads of blooming warriors, eagerly gazing on the 
 lovely shores, the farms, and flocks, and domes, fondly 
 regarded as their own, with all the beauteous maids, 
 the easy purchase of a bloodless strife ! But ah, vain 
 hope ! Washington met us in his strength. His peo- 
 ple poured around him as the brindled sons of the 
 desert around their sire when he lifts his terrible 
 voice, and calls them from their dens, to aid hrni in 
 war against the mighty rhmoceros. The battle raged 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 131 
 
 along a thousand fields — a thousand streams ran 
 puiple with British gore. And now of all our bloom- 
 ing warriors, alas ! how few remain ! Pierced by the 
 fatal rifle, far the greater part now press their bloody 
 beds. There, each on his couch of honour, lie those 
 who were once the flower of our host. There lies 
 the gallant Frazer, the dauntless Ferguson, the ac- 
 complished Donop, and that pride of youth, the gen- 
 erous Andre, with thousands equally brave and good. 
 But, ! ye dear partners of this cruel strife, though 
 fallen, ye are not forgotten ! Often, with tears do we 
 see you still, as when you rejoiced with us at the 
 feast, or fought by our sides in battle. But vain was 
 all our valour. God fought for Washington. Hence 
 our choicest troops are fallen before him ; and we, 
 the sad remains of war, are now returning, inglorious, 
 to our native shores. Land of the graves of Heroes, 
 farewell ! Ghosts of the noble dead ! chide not the 
 steps of our departure ! ye are left : but it is in the 
 ;and of brothers, who often mourned the death which 
 their valour gave. But now the unnatural strife is 
 past, and peace returns. And ! with peace may 
 that spirit return which once warmed the hearts of 
 Americans towards their British brethren, when the 
 sight of our tall ships was wont to spread joy along 
 their shores ; and when the planter, viewing his 
 cotton-covered fields, rejoiced that he was preparing 
 employment and bread for thousands of the poor ! !" 
 
 The hostile fleets and armies thus withdrawn, and 
 the Independence of his country acknowledged; 
 Washington proceeded, at the command of Congress, 
 to disband the army ! To this event, though of all 
 others the dearest to his heart, he had ever looked 
 forward with trembling anxiety. Loving his soldiers 
 as his children, how could he tell them the painful 
 truth which the poverty of his country had imposed 
 on him ? How could he tell them, that after all they 
 had done and suffered with him, they must now 
 
 ound their arms, and return home, many of them 
 
132 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 without a decent suit on their backs, or a penny in 
 iheir pockets ? 
 
 But he was saved the pain of maxnig this commu« 
 nication ; for they soon received it from another 
 quarter, and with circumstances calculated to kindle 
 the fiercest indignation against their country. Let- 
 ters were industriously circulated through the army, 
 painting in the strongest colours, their unparalleled 
 sufferings, and the ingratitude of Congress. 
 
 " Confiding in her honour," said the writer, did 
 you not cheerfully enlist in the service of your coun- 
 try, and for her dear sake encounter all the evils of a 
 soldier's life ? Have you not beaten the ice-bound 
 road full many a wintry day, without a shoe to your 
 bleeding feet ; and wasted the long bitter night, with- 
 out a tent, to shelter your heads from the pelting 
 storm ? Have you not borne the brunt of many a 
 bloody fight, and, from the hands of hard struggling 
 foes, torn the glorious prize, your country's indepen- 
 dence? And now after all — after wasting in her 
 service the flower of your days — with bodies broken 
 under arms, and bones with the pains and aches of a 
 seven year's war, will you suffer yourselves to be 
 sent home in rags to your families, to spend the sad 
 remains of life in poverty and scorn ? — No ! my 
 brothers in arms ! I trust you will not. I trust you 
 bear no such coward minds. I trust, that after 
 having fought so bravely for the rights of others, you 
 will now fight as bravely for your own rights. And 
 now is the accepted time and golden hour of redress, 
 while you have weapons in your hands, the strtngth 
 of an army to support you, and a beloved general at 
 your head, ready to lead you to that justice which 
 you owe to yourselves, and, which you have so long 
 but vainly expected from an ungrateful country." 
 
 These letters produced, as might have been ex- 
 pected, a most alarming efl^ect. Rage, like a fire in 
 secret, began to burn throughout the camp. Wash- 
 ington soon perceived it. He discovered it in his 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 133 
 
 Soldiers, as, gathered into groupes, they stood and 
 murmured over their grievances, while, with furious 
 looks and gestures, they stamped on the earth, and 
 hurled their curses against Congress. Gladdening at 
 such success of his first letters, the writer instantly 
 sent around a second series, still more artful and in- 
 flammatory than the first. The passions of the army 
 now rose to a height that threatened instantaneous 
 explosion. But still their eyes, beaming reverence 
 and love, were turned towards their honoured chief, 
 to whom they had ever looked as to a father. 
 
 Often had they marked his tears, as, visiting their 
 encampments, he beheld them suffering and sinking 
 under fevers and fluxes, for want of clothes and pro- 
 visions. Often, had they hushed their complaints, 
 trusting to his promises that Congress would still 
 remember them. But behold ! his promises and 
 their hopes are all alike abortive ! 
 
 And will not Washington, the friend of justice and 
 father of his army, avenge them on a government 
 which has thus basely defrauded them, and deceived 
 him ? There needed but a glance of his approbation 
 to set the whole army in motion. Instantly with fixed 
 bayonets they would have hurled the hated Congress 
 from their seats, and placed their beloved Washing- 
 ton on the throne of St. Tammany. Here, no doubt, 
 the tempter flashed the dangerous diadem before the 
 eyes of our countryman. But religion at the same 
 time, pointed him to the great lover of order, holding 
 up that crown, in comparison of which the diadems 
 of kings are but dross. Animated with such hopes 
 he had long cherished that ardent philanthropy 
 which sighs for liberty to all countries, and especially 
 to his own. For Liberty he had fought and conquer- 
 ed; and now considered it, with all its blessings, as 
 at hand. " Yet a little while, and America shall 
 oecome the glory of the earth — a nation of Brothers, 
 enjoying the golden reign of equal laws, and rejoicing 
 under their own vine and fig-tree, and no tyrant to 
 
 12 11 
 
4 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 make them afraid. And shall these glorious pros 
 pects be darkened ? shall they be darkened by Wash 
 mgton ! shall he, ever the friend of his country, be 
 come her bitterest enemy, by fixing upon her again 
 the iron yoke of monarchy ? shall he ! the father of 
 his army, become their assassin, by establishing a 
 government that shall swallow up their liberties for 
 ever?" 
 
 The idea filled his soul with horror. Instead, 
 therefore, of tamely yielding to the v/ishes of his 
 army to their own ruin, he bravely opposes them to 
 their true good : and mstead of drinking in, with trai- 
 torous smile, the hozannas that would have made 
 him king, he darkens his brow of parental displeasure 
 at their impiety. He flies to extinguish their rismg 
 rebellion. He addresses letters to the officers of the 
 army, desiring Ihem to meet him at an appointed 
 time and place. Happily for America, the voice of 
 Washington still sounded in their ears, as the voice 
 of a father. His officers, to a man, all gathered 
 around him ; while, with a countenance inspiring 
 veneration and love, he arose and addressed the eager 
 listening chiefs. He began with reminding them of 
 the great object for which they had first drawn 
 their swords, i. e. the liberty of their country. He 
 applauded that noble spirit with which they had sub- 
 mitted to so many privations — combated so many 
 dangers — and overcome so many difficulties. And 
 now, said he, after having thus waded, like Israel of 
 old, through a red sea of blood, and withstood the 
 thundering Sinais of British fury ; after having crush 
 ed the fiery serpents of Indian rifles, and tramplec 
 ^own those insidious Amalekites, the tories — after 
 having travelled through a howling wilderness of 
 war, and, with the ark of your country's liberties in 
 camp, safely arrived on the borders of Canaan, and in 
 sight of the glorious end of all your labours, will you 
 liow give yourselves up the dupes of a " British 
 fmissury,"' and tor the sordid flesh-pots ol a few 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 135 
 
 months' pay, rush into civil war, and fall back to a 
 worse than Egyptian bondage ? No ! ray brave coun-^ 
 trymen : I trust you will not : I trust, that an army so 
 famed throughout the world for patriotism, will yet 
 maintain its reputation. I trust, that your behaviour 
 on this last, this most trynig occasion, will fill up the 
 measure of your heroism, and stamp the American 
 character with never dying fame. You have achiev- 
 ed miracles. But a greater miracle still remains to 
 be achieved. We have had the glory to conquer our 
 enemies ; now for the greater glory to conquer our- 
 selves. Other armies, after subduing the enemies of 
 their country, have themselves, for power and plun- 
 der, become her tyrants, and trampled her liberties 
 under foot. Be it our nobler ambition, after suffer- 
 ings unparalleled for our needy country, to return 
 cheerful, though pennyless, to our homes ; and pa- 
 tiently wait the rewards which her gratitude will, 
 one day, assuredly bestow. In the mean time, beat- 
 ing our swords into ploughshares, and our bayonets 
 into reaping hooks, let us, as peaceful citizens, culti- 
 vate those fields from which, as victorious soldiers, 
 we lately drove the enemy. Thence, as from the 
 noblest of theatres, you will display a spectacle of 
 patriotism never seen before. You will teach the de- 
 lighted world, that men are capable of finding a hea 
 ven in noble actions : and you will give occasion ro 
 posterity to say, when speaking of your present be- 
 haviour, had this day been wanting, tlie triumph of 
 our fathers' virtues would have been incomplete." 
 
 As he spoke, his cheeks, naturally pale, were red- 
 dened over with virtue's pure vermillion : while his 
 eyes, of cerulean blue, were kindled up with those 
 indescribable fires which fancy lends to an angel 
 orator, animating poor mortals, to the sublimest of 
 god-like deeds. His words, were not in vain. From 
 lips of wisdom, and long-tried love, like hi? such 
 counsel wrought as though an oracle had spotLen. 
 instantly a committee of the whole was formed, with 
 
S3<t LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 general Knox at their head, who, in thirty minutes, 
 reported the following resolutions, which were unani- 
 mously adopted: 
 
 " Resolved — that having engaged in the wai 
 from motives of the purest love and zeal for the rights 
 of man, no circumstance of distress or danger shall 
 ever induce us to sully the glory we have acquired 
 at the price of our blood, and eight years' faithful 
 service. 
 
 " Resolved — that we continue to have an un 
 shaken confidence in the justice of congress and our 
 country. 
 
 " Resolved — that we view with abhorrence, and 
 reject with disdain, the infamous proposition con- 
 tained in a late anonymous address to the officers of 
 the army.'^ 
 
 The officers then hasted back to their troops, who 
 had been impatiently expecting them ; and related 
 Washington's speech. They also stated as his firm 
 conviction, that " the claims of every soldier would be 
 liquidated ; his accounts accurately ascertained ; and 
 adequate funds provided for the payment of them, 
 as soon as the circumstances of the nation would 
 permit. 
 
 The soldiers listened to this communication with 
 attention : and heard the close of it without a mur- 
 mur. " They had no great opinion, they said, of 
 congress — but having gone such lengths for duty 
 and old George, they supposed they might as well 
 now go a little farther, and make thorough work of 
 it. A little pay would, to be sure, have been very 
 welcome : and it was a poor military chest that could 
 not afford a single dollar, especially as some of them 
 had hundreds of miles to travel to reach their homes. 
 But surely the people won't let us starve for a meal's 
 victuals by the way, especially after we have been sa 
 long fighting their battles. So, in God's name, we'll 
 even shoulder our knapsacks, whenever our general 
 shall say the word." 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 13/ 
 
 The next day the breaking np of the army began, 
 which was conducted in the following manner : The 
 troops after breakfast were ordered under arms. On 
 receiving notice that they were ready to move, 
 Washington with his aids, rode out on the plains of 
 their encampment, where he sat on his horse awaiting 
 fheir arrival. The troops got in motion, and with 
 fifes and muffled drums playing the mournful air of 
 Roslin Castle, marched up for the last time, into his 
 presence. Every countenance was shrouded in sor- 
 row. At a signal given, they grounded their arms. 
 Then, waving their hats, and faintly crying out " God 
 save great Washington," through watery eyes they 
 gave him a long adieu, and wheeled off in files for 
 their native homes. With pensive looks his eye pur- 
 sued them as they retired, wide spreading over the 
 fields. But when he saw those brave troops who had 
 so long obeyed him, and who had just given such an 
 evidence of their affection — when he saw them slow- 
 ly descending behind the distant hills, shortly to dis- 
 appear for ever, then nature stirred all the father 
 within him, and gave him up to tears. But he wept 
 not " as those without hope." He rejoiced in the 
 remembrance of him who treasures up the toils of 
 the virtuous, and will, one day, bestow that reward 
 which, " this world cannot give." 
 
 But the whole army was not disbanded at once. 
 Shortly after this he went down to New York, to 
 finish what remained of his duty as commander in 
 chief, and to prepare to return home. On the last 
 day that he was there, it being known that he meant 
 to set out for Virginia at one o'clock, all his officers, 
 who happened to be in town, assembled at Francis's 
 tavern, where he lodged, to bid him a last farewell. 
 About half after twelve o'clock the general entered 
 the room, where an elegant collation was spread : but 
 none tasted it. Conversation was attempted : but it 
 failed. As the clock struck one, the general went 
 \o the side-board, and filling out some wine, turned 
 12* U* 
 
138 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 to his officers, and begged they would join him in a 
 glass. Then, with a look of sorrow and a faltering 
 voice, he said, " Well my brave brothers in arms, we 
 
 part ^perhaps to meet in this life no more. And 
 
 now I pray God to take you all in his holy keeping, 
 and render your latter days as prosperous as the past 
 have been glorious." 
 
 Soon as they had drunk, he beckoned to general 
 Knox, who approached and pressed his hand in tears 
 of delicious silence. The officers all followed his 
 example ; while their manly cheeks, swollen with 
 grief, bespoke sensations too strong for utterance. 
 This tender scene being over, he moved towards the 
 door, followed by his officers. By this time the street 
 from the hotel to the river was filled with light in- 
 fantry, and thousands of citizens, who all attended 
 him in silence to the water-side, where he was to 
 take boat. Here another pleasing proof of esteem 
 was given him. Instead of the common ferry boat, a 
 arge magnificently decorated, was ready to receive 
 him, with the American jack and colors flying, and 
 manned with thirteen sea captains, all in elegant 
 blue uniforms. On stepping aboard the barge, he 
 turned towards the people, who stood in vast crowds 
 on the shore : and waving his hat, bade them a silent 
 adieu, which they in like solemn manner returned, 
 all waving their hats, and without speaking a word. 
 Having received their honoured freight, the sons of 
 Neptune, ready with well poised oars, leap forward 
 to the coxswain's call ; then, all at once falling back, 
 with sudden stroke they flash their bending blades 
 into the yielding flood. Swift at their stroke the 
 barge sprung from the shore ; and, under the music 
 of echoing row-locks, flew through the waves, fol- 
 lowed by the eager gaze of the pensive thousands. 
 The sighing multitude then turned away from the 
 shore with feelings whose source they did not, per 
 i»aps, understand. But some, on returning to their 
 homes, spoke to their listening children of what they 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON 13& 
 
 had seen, and of the honours which belong to such 
 virtue as Washington's. 
 
 He lodged that night at Elizabethtown, fifteen 
 miles from New York. The next morning, elate 
 with thoughts of home, he ascended his chariot ; and 
 with bounding steeds drove on his way through the 
 lovely country of New Jersey. This no doubt, was 
 the pleasantest ride by far that he had known since 
 the dark days of '75. For though joyless winter 
 was spread abroad, with her cold clouds, and winds 
 shrill whistling over the flowerless fields; yet to 
 his patriot eye the face of nature shone brighter than 
 in latter years, when clad in springtide green and 
 gold — for it was covered over with the bright mantle 
 of peace. His shoulders were freed from the burden 
 of public cares, and his heart from the anxieties of 
 supreme command. With a father's joy he could 
 look around on the thick settled country, with all its 
 little ones, and flocks, and herds, now no longer ex- 
 posed to danger. 
 
 " Happy farmers ! the long winter of war is past 
 and gone — the spring time of peace is returned, and 
 the voice of her dove is heard in our land. Restore 
 your wasted farms. Spread abroad the fertilizing 
 manure : and prepare again to crown your war 
 worn fields with joyful crops." 
 
 " Happy children ! now pour forth agani in safety 
 to yom: schools. Treasure up the golden knowledge ; 
 and make yourselves the future glory and guardians 
 of your country." 
 
 Happy citizens ! hasten to rebuild the ruined 
 temples of your God. And lift your glad songs to 
 Him, the great ruler of war, who aided your feeble 
 arms, and trampled down the mighty enemy beneath 
 your feet." 
 
 But often, amidst these happy thoughts, the swift 
 wheeled chariot would bring him in view of fields on 
 which his bleeding memory co Jd not dwell without 
 a tear. « There the battling a'.mies met in thunder 
 
140 LIFE OF WASHINGTON 
 
 The stormy strife was short. But yonder mournfut 
 hillocks point the place where many of our brave 
 heroes sleep ; perhaps some good angel has whisper- 
 ed that their fall was not in vain." 
 
 On his journey homewards, he stopped for a 
 moment at Philadelphia, to do an act, which to a 
 mind proudly honest like his, must have been a 
 sublime treat. He stopped to present to the comp- 
 troller-general an account of all the public moneys 
 which he had spent. Though this account was in 
 his own hand writing, and accompanied with the 
 proper vouchers, yet it will hardly be credited by 
 European statesmen and generals, that, in the 
 course of an eight years war, he had spent only 
 12,497/. 85. 9c?. sterling! ! 
 
 From Philadelphia he hastened on to Annapolis, 
 where Congress was then in session, that he might 
 return to that honourable body the commission with 
 which they had entrusted him. 
 
 Having always disliked parade, he wished to make 
 his resignation in writing. But Congress, it seems, 
 willed otherwise. To see a man voluntarily giving 
 up power, was a spectacle not to be met with every 
 day. And that they might have the pleasure of see- 
 ing him in this last, and perhaps greatest, act of his 
 public hfe, they expressed a wish to receive his 
 resignation from his own hand at a full audience. 
 The next day, the 23d of December, 1783, was 
 appointed for the purpose. At an early hour the 
 house was crowded. The members of Congress, with 
 the grandees of the land, fiUea the floors. The ladies 
 sparkled in the galleries. At eleven o'clock. Wash 
 ington was ushered into the house, and conducted to 
 a seat which had been prepared for him, covered 
 with red velvet. After a becoming pause, and 
 information given by the president, that the United 
 States in Congress assembled were ready to ^eceive 
 his communication, he arose ; and with great brevity 
 and modesty observed, that he had presented himseU 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 141 
 
 before them, to resign into their hands with satisfac 
 tion the commission which, eight years before, he 
 had accepted with diffidence. He begged to offer 
 them his sincerest congratulations for the glorious 
 result of their united struggles; took no part of the 
 praise to himself; but ascribed all to the blessing of 
 Heaven on the exertions of the nation. Then 
 fervently commending his dearest country to the 
 protection of Almighty God, he bade them an affec 
 tionate farewell ; and taking leave of all the em- 
 ployments of public life, surrendered up his com- 
 mission ! 
 
 Seldom has there been exhibited so charming a 
 display of the power which pre-eminent virtue pos- 
 sesses over the human heart, as on this occasion. 
 Short and simple as was the speech of Washington, 
 yet it seems to have carried back every trembling 
 imagination to the fearful days of '75, when the 
 British fleets and armies were thundering on oui 
 coasts, and when nothing was talked of but slavery, 
 confiscation, and executions. And now they saw 
 before them the man to whom they all looked for 
 safety in that gloomy time — who had completely 
 answered their fond hopes — who had stood by them 
 incorruptible and unshaken — had anticipated their 
 mighty enemy in all his plans — had met him at every 
 point — had thwarted, defeated, and blasted all his 
 hopes — and, victory after victory won, had at length 
 laid his strong legions in dust or in chains — and had 
 secured to his country a glorious independence, with 
 the fairest chance of being one of the most respecta- 
 ble and happy nations of the earth — and, in conse- 
 quence of all this, had so completely won the hearts 
 of his army and his nation, that he could perhaps 
 have made himself their master. At all events, a 
 Caesar or a Cromwell would, at the hazard of a 
 million of Uves, made the sacrilegious attempt. Yet 
 they now saw this man scorning to abuse his power 
 to the degradation of his country, — but on the con- 
 
142 LIFE OF WASHINGTON 
 
 frary, treating her with the most sacred respect — 
 dutifully bowing before her delegated presence, the 
 congress — cheerfully returning the commission she 
 tiad entrusted him with — piously laying down his 
 extensive powers at her feet — and modestly falling 
 back into the humble condition of the rest of her 
 children. The sight of their great countryman, 
 already so beloved, and now acting so generous, so 
 godlike a part, produced an effect beyond the power 
 of words to express. Their feelings of admiration 
 and affection were too delicious, too big for utterance 
 Every countenaace was swollen with sentiment ; and 
 delicious tears moistened every eye, which, though a 
 silent, was perhaps the richest offering of veneration 
 and esteem ever paid to a human being. 
 
 Having discharged this last great debt to his 
 coimtry, the next morning early he ascended his 
 chariot ; and listened with joy to the rattling wheels, 
 now running off his last day's journey to Mount 
 Vernon. Ah ! could gloomy tyrants but feel what 
 Washington felt that day, when, sweeping along the 
 road, with grateful heart, he revolved the mighty 
 work which he had finished — his country saved and 
 his conscience clear; they would tear off the accursed 
 purple, and starting from their blood-stained thrones, 
 like Washington, seek true happiness in making 
 others happy. 
 
 O Washington ! thrice glorious name, 
 
 What due rewards can man decree 1 
 
 Empires are far below thy aim, 
 
 And sceptres have no charms for thee ; 
 
 Duty alone has thy regard, 
 
 \^ her thou ceek'st thy great reward. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 143 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Washington again on his farm — sketch of his conduct there — suggests 
 the importance of inland navigation — companies forming — urges a 
 reform of the old constitution — appointed President of the United 
 States — great difficulties to encounter — gloriously surmounts them. 
 
 To be happy in every situation is a proof of wis- 
 ftcm seldom afforded by man. It proves that tlie 
 heart is set on that which alone can ever completely 
 satisfy it, i. e. the imitation of God in benevolent and 
 useful life. This was the happy case with Washing- 
 ton. To establish in his country the golden reign of 
 liberty is his grand wish. In the accomplishment of 
 this he seeks his happiness. He abhors war ; but, if 
 war be necessary, to this end he bravely encounters 
 it. His ruling passion must be obeyed. He beat his 
 ploughshare into a sword, and exchanged the peace 
 and pleasures of his farm for the din and dangers of 
 the camp. Having won the great prize for which he 
 contended, he returns to his plough. His military 
 habits are laid by with the same ease as he would 
 throw off an old coat. The camp with all its parade 
 and noise, is forgotten. He awakes, in his silent 
 chambers at Mount Vernon, without sighing for the 
 sprightly drums and fifes that used to sahite him 
 every morning. Happy among his domestics, he 
 does not regret the shining ranks of patriot soldiers 
 that used to pay him homage. The useful citizen is 
 the high character he wishes to act — his sword turned 
 into a ploughshare is his favourite mstrument ; and 
 his beloved farm his stage. Agriculture had been 
 always his delight. To breathe the pure healthful 
 air of a farm, perfumed with odorous flowers, and 
 enriched with golden harvests, and with numerous 
 flocks and herds, appeared to him a life nearest con 
 iiected with individual and national happiness. To 
 this great object he turns all his attention — bends all 
 "lis exertions. He writes to the most skilful farmers, 
 
144 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 not only in America, but in England (for Washington 
 was incapable of bearing malice against a people who 
 had been reconciled to his country ;) he writes, I say, 
 to tiie ablest farmers in America and England, for 
 instructions how best to cultivate and improve his 
 lands — what grains, what grasses, what manures 
 would best suit his soils ; what shrubs are fittest for 
 fences, and what animals for labour. 
 
 But, to a soul large and benevolent like his, to 
 beautify his own farm, and to enrich his own family, 
 seemed like doing nothing. To see the whole nation 
 engaged in glorious toils, filling themselves with 
 plenty, and inundating the sea ports with food and 
 raiment for the poor and needy of distant nations — 
 this was his godlike ambition. But, knowing that his 
 beloved countrymen could not long enjoy the honour 
 and advantage of such glorious toils, unless they could 
 easily convey their swelling harvests to their own 
 markets, he hastp.ned to rouse them to a proper sense 
 of the infinite importance of forming canals and cuts 
 between all the fine rivers that run throught he Unit- 
 ed States. To give the greater weight to his coun- 
 sel, he had first ascended the sources of those great 
 rivers — ascertained the distance between them — the 
 obstacles in the way of navigation — and the probable 
 expense of removing them. 
 
 Agreeably to his wishes, two wealthy companies 
 were soon formed to extend the navigation of James 
 River and Potomac, the noblest rivers in Virginia. 
 Struck with the exceeding benefit which both them- 
 selves and their country would speedily derive from 
 a plan which he had not only suggested, but had 
 taken such pains and expense to recommend, thoy 
 pressed him to accept one hundred and fifty shares 
 of the company's stock, amounting to near 40,000 
 dollars ! But he instantly refused it, saying, " what 
 will the world think if they should hear that I havo 
 taken 40,000 dollars for this affair? Will they not be 
 apt to suspect, on my next proposition, that money 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 145 
 
 IS my motive ? Thus, for the sake of moiitfy, which 
 indeed I never coveted from my country, I may lose 
 the power to do her some service, which may be 
 worth more than all money ! !" 
 
 But, while engaged in this goodly work, he was 
 suddenly alarmed by the appearance of an evil, which 
 threatened to put an end to all his well-meant labours 
 for ever — this was, the incipient dissolution of the 
 federal government ! ! The framers of that fair but 
 flimsy fabric, having put it together according to the 
 square and compass of equal rights, and mutual 
 interests, thought they had done enough. The good 
 sense and virtue of the nation, it was supposed, would 
 form a foundation of rock whereon it would safely 
 rest, in spite of all commotions, foreign or domestic. 
 
 " But, alas !" said Washington, « experience has 
 shown, that men unless constrained, will seldom do 
 what is for their own good. With joy 1 once beheld 
 my country feeling the liveliest sense of her rights, 
 and maintaining them with a spirit apportioned to 
 their worth. With joy I have seen all the wise men 
 of Europe looking on her with admiration, and all the 
 good with hope, that her fair example would rege- 
 nerate the whole world, and restore the blessings of 
 equal government to long oppressed humanity. But 
 alas ! in place of maintaining this glorious attitude, 
 America is herself rushing into disorder and dissolu- 
 tion. We have powers sufficient for self-defence and 
 glory ; but those powers are not exerted. For fear 
 congress should abuse it, the people will not trust 
 their power with congress. Foreigners insult and 
 injure us with impunity ; for congress has no power 
 to chastise them. — Ambitious men stir up factions 
 Congress possesses no power to coerce them. Public 
 creditors call for their money. Congress has no 
 power to collect it. In short, we cannot long subsist 
 as a nation, without lodging somewhere a power 
 that may command the full energies of the nation for 
 aefence from all its enemies, and for the supply of all 
 13 12 
 
146 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 Its wants. The people will soon be tired of sach a 
 government. They will sigh for a change : and many 
 of them already begin to talk of monarchy, without 
 horror ''' 
 
 In this, as m all cases of apprehended danger, his 
 pen knew no rest. The leading characters of the 
 nation were roused : and a convention was formed, 
 of deputies from the several states, to revise and 
 amend the general government. Of this convention 
 Washington was unanimously chosen president. — 
 Then- session commenced in Philadelphia, May, 1787 
 and ended in October. The fruit of their six months 
 labour was the present excellent constitution, which 
 was no sooner adopted, than the eyes of ti.e whole 
 nation were fixed on him for president. 
 
 Being now in his 57th year, and wedded to his 
 farm and family, he had no wish to enter again into 
 the cares and dangers of public life. Ease was now 
 become almost as necessary as it was dear to him. 
 His reputation was already at the highest ; and as to 
 money, in the service of his country he had always 
 refused it. These things considered, together with 
 his acknowledged modesty and disinterestedness, we 
 can hardly doubt the correctness of his declaration, 
 that, " the call to the magistracy was the most un- 
 welcome he had ever heard." 
 
 However, as soon as it was officially notified to 
 him, in the spring of 1789, that he was unanimously 
 elected President of the United States, and that Con- 
 gress, then sitting in New York, was impatient to see 
 him in the chair, he set out for that city. Then all 
 along the roads where he passed, were seen the most 
 charming proofs of that enthusiasm with which the 
 hearts of all delighted to honour him. If it was only 
 said, " General Washington is comnig," it was enough. 
 The inhabitants all hastened from their houses to the 
 highways, to have a sight of their great countryman; 
 while the people of the towns, hearing of his approach, 
 sallied out, horse and foot, to meet him. In eager 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 147 
 
 (hrongs, men, women and children, pressed upon his 
 steps, as waves in crowding ridges pursue the course 
 of a ship through the ocean. And as a new succes- 
 sion of waves is ever ready to take the place of those 
 which have just ended their chase in playful foam, 
 so it was with the ever-gathering crowds that follow- 
 ed their Washington. 
 
 "On reaching the western banks of the Schuylkill," 
 said a gentleman who was present, " I was astonish- 
 ed at the concourse of people that overspread the 
 country, apparently from Gray's ferry to the city. 
 Indeed one would have thought that the whole 
 population of Philadelphia was come out to meet 
 him. And to see so many thousands of people on 
 foot, on horseback, and in coaches, all voluntarily 
 waiting upon and moving along with one man, struck 
 me with strangely agreeable sensations. Surely, 
 thought I, there must be a divinity in goodness, that 
 mankind should thus delight to honour it." 
 
 His reception at Trenton was more than flattering. 
 It was planned; they said, by the ladies, and indeed 
 bore marks that it could have been done only by 
 them. The reader must remember, that it was near 
 this place that the fair sex in '76 suffered such cruel 
 indignities from the enemy ; and that it was here 
 that Providence in the same year enabled Washing- 
 ton so severely to chastise them for it. The women 
 are not apt to forget their benefactors. Hearing that 
 Washington was on his way to Trenton, they instant- 
 ly held a caucus among themselves, to devise ways 
 and means to display their gratitude to him. Under 
 their direction, the bridge over the Sanpink, (a nar- 
 row creek running through Trenton, upon whose 
 opposite banks WasKmgton and the British once 
 fought,) was decorated with a triumphal arch, with 
 this inscription in large figures : 
 
 , DECEMBER 26, 1776. 
 
 THE HERO WHO DEFENDED THE MOTHERS, 
 
 WILL ALSO PROTECT THE DAUGHTERS. 
 
148 X.IFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 He approached the bridge on its south side, amidst 
 the heartiest shouts of congratulating thousands 
 while on the north side were drawn up several 
 hundreds of little girls, dressed in snow-white robes 
 with temples adorned with garlands, and ba.skets ot 
 flowers on their arms. Just behind them stood long 
 rows of young virgins, whose fair faces, of sweetest 
 red and white, highly animated by the occasion, 
 looked quite angelic — and, behind them in crowds, 
 stood their venerable mothers. As Washington 
 slowly drove off the bridge, the female voices ali 
 began, sweet as the first wakings of the Eoliap ha^p : 
 and thus they rolled the song : 
 
 ♦* Welcome, Diighty chief ! once more 
 Welcome to this grateful shore. 
 Now no mercenary foe 
 Aims again the fatal blow, 
 Aims at thee the fatal blow. 
 
 Virgins fair, and matrons grave, 
 (These thy conquering arm did save !) 
 Build for thee triumphal bowers, 
 Strew, ye fair, his way with flowers ; 
 Strew your hero's way with flowers. 
 
 While singing the last lines, they strewed the wa) 
 with flowers before him. 
 
 Some have said that they could see in his altereo 
 looks, that he remembered the far different scenes of 
 '76 ; for that they saw him wipe a tear. No doubt 
 it was the sweet tear of gratitude to him who had 
 preserved him to see this happy day. 
 
 At New York the behaviour of the citizens was 
 equally expressive of the general veneration and 
 esteem. The ships in the harbour were all dressed 
 in their flags and streamers ; and the wharves where 
 he landed were richly decorated. At the water's 
 edge he was received by an immense concourse of 
 the joyful citizens ; and, amidst the mingled thundei 
 of guns and acclamations, was conducted to his lodg 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. .49 
 
 mgs. Such honours, would have intoxicated most 
 men : but to a mind Uke his, habitually conversant 
 with the far sublimer subjects of the Christian philo- 
 sophy, they must have looked quite puerile. Indeed 
 it appears from a note made in his journal that very 
 evening, tha"; he regarded all these marks of public 
 favour rather as calls to humility than pride. " The 
 display of boats on this occasion," says he, " with 
 vocal and instrumental music on board, the decora- 
 tions of the ships, the roar of cannon, and the loud 
 acclamations of the people, as I passed along the 
 wharves, gave me as much pain as pleasure, con- 
 templating the probable reverse of this scene after 
 all my endeavour to do good." 
 
 It was on the 23d of April, 1789, that he arrived 
 in New York : and on the 30th, after taking the oath, 
 as president of the United States, to preserve, protect, 
 and defend the constitution, he entered upon the 
 duties of his office. 
 
 As things then stood, even his bitterest enemies, if 
 he had any, might have said, " happy man be his 
 dole !" for he came to the helm in a perilous and 
 fearful season. Like chaos, " in the olden time," our 
 government was " without form and void : and dark- 
 ness dwelt upon the face of the deep." Enemies 
 innumerable threatened the country, both from within 
 and without, abroad and at home — the people of 
 three continents at daggers drawn with the young 
 republic of America ! 
 
 The pirates of Morocco laying their uncircumcised 
 hands on our rich commerce in the Mediterranean. 
 
 The British grumbling and threatening war. 
 
 The Spaniards shutting up the Mississippi ! 
 
 The Kentuckians in great warmth, threatening to 
 break the Union, and join the Spaniards ' 
 
 The Indian nations, from Canada to Georgia, un- 
 burying the tomahawk ! 
 
 North Carolina and Rhode Island, blowing on the 
 t .\fedieracy ! strong parties in other states against it! 
 
 13* 12* 
 
150 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 — and an alarming insurrection in Massachusetts' 
 While, to combat all these enemies, the United State? 
 had but 600 regular troops ! ! and, though eighty 
 millions of dollars in debt, they had not one cent in 
 Jhe treasury ! ! ! Here certainly, if ever, was the time, 
 to try a man's soul. But Washington despaired not. 
 Glowing with the love of his country, and persuaded 
 that his country still enjoyed an opportunity to be 
 great and happy, he resolved, whatever it might cost 
 him, that nothing should be wanting on his part to 
 fill up the measure of her glory. But first of all, in 
 his inaugural speech, he called upon Congress and 
 his countrymen, to look up to God for his blessing ; 
 next, as to themselves, to be most industrious, hon- 
 ourable, and united, as became men responsible to 
 ages yet unborn, for all the blessings of a republican 
 government, now, and perhaps for the last time, at 
 stake, on their wisdom and virtue ; — then as to him- 
 self; " I feel," said he, " my incompetency of political 
 skill and abilities. Integrity and firmness are all I 
 can promise. These, I know, will never forsake me, 
 although I may be deserted by all men : and of the 
 consolations to be derived from these, under no cir- 
 cumstances can the world ever deprive me." — And 
 last of all, as, in a crazy ship at sea, tossed by furious 
 winds, no pilot can save without the aid of able sea 
 men, Washington prudently rallied around him the 
 wisest of all his countrymen. 
 
 Mr. Jefferson, Secretary of Foreign Affairs. 
 
 Col. Hamilton, Secretary of the Treasury. 
 
 Gen. Knox, Secretary of War. 
 
 Edmund Randolph, Attorney General. 
 
 John Jay, Chief Justice. 
 
 John Rutledge, 
 
 James Wilson, 
 
 John Cushing, 
 
 Robert Harrison, 
 
 John Blair, 
 
 These judicious preparations being made for tlw 
 
 Associate Judges 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 151 
 
 storm, (Heaven's blessing invoked, and the ablest 
 pilots embarked with hira,) Washington then seized 
 the helm, with a gallant hard-a-lee; luffed up his 
 ship at once to the gale, hoping yet to shoot the 
 hideous gulfs that threatened all around. 
 
 His first attention was turned to the call of 
 Humanity, i. e. to satisfy and make peace with the 
 Indians. This was soon done ; partly by presents, 
 and by establishing, in their country, houses of fair 
 trade, which, by preventing frauds, prevent those 
 grudges that lead to private murders, and thence to 
 public disturbances and wars. Some of the Indian 
 tribes, despising these friendly efforts of Washington 
 were obliged to be drubbed into peace, which service 
 was done for them by General Wayne, in 1794 — 
 but not until many lives had been lost in preceding 
 defeats; owing chiefly, it was said, to the very 
 intemperate passions and potations of some of their 
 oflacers. However, after the first shock, the loss of 
 these poor souls was not much lamented. Tall young 
 fellows, who could easily get their half dollar a day 
 at the healthful and glorious labours of the plough, 
 to go and enlist and rust among the lice and itch of 
 a camp, for four dollars a month, were certainly not 
 worth their country's crying about. 
 
 Washington's friendly overtures to Spain were 
 equally fortunate. Believing that he desired nothing 
 but what was perfectly just, and what both God and 
 man would support him in, she presently agreed to 
 negociate. The navigation of the Mississippi was 
 given up. The Kentuckians were satisfied : and 
 Spain and the United States lived on good terms all 
 the rest of his days. 
 
 Washington then tried his hands with the British 
 But alas ! he soon found that they were not made of 
 such pliable stuff as the Indians and Spaniards. Nor 
 had he the British alone to complain of He present- 
 ly found it as hard to satisfy his own countrymen, in 
 ihe matter of a treaty, as to please them. 
 
153 LIFE OF WASHIJSGTON. 
 
 For whether it was that the two nations stili 
 retained a most unchristian recollection of what they 
 had suffered from one another during the past war — 
 or whether, more unchristianly still, they felt the 
 odious spirit of rivals, and sickened at each other's 
 prosperity — or whether each nation thought that the 
 ships of the other were navigated by their seamen , 
 but so it was, that the prejudices of the two people, 
 though sprung from the same progenitors, ran so 
 high as to render it extremely difficult for Washing- 
 ton to settle matters between them. But it was at 
 length happily effected, without the horrors of 
 another war. Though the treaty which brought 
 about this desirable event was entirely execrated by 
 great numbers of sensible and honest men no doubt, 
 yet Washington, led, as he says, by duty and human- 
 ity, ratified it. 
 
 If the signing of the treaty displayed his firmness, 
 the operation of it has, perhaps, shown his wisdom. 
 For, surely, since that time, no country like this ever 
 so progressed in the public and private blessings of 
 industry, wealth, population, and morals. Whether 
 greater, or, indeed, equal blessings would have re- 
 sulted from a bloody war with England at that time, 
 let others determine. 
 
 But scarcely had Washington got clear of his em- 
 barrassments with Britain, before still worse were 
 thrown in his way by France. 
 
 The cause was this. " The French army," as 
 Doctor Franklin observes, " having served an appren- 
 ticeship to Liberty, in America, on going back to 
 France, set up for themselves." Throughout the 
 kingdom, wherever they went, they could talk ol 
 nothing but the Americans. " Ah, happy people V* 
 said they, "neither oppressing nor oppressed, they 
 mingle together as one great family of brothers. 
 Every man is free. Every man labours for himself, 
 and wipes with joy the sweat from his brow, because 
 *tis the earnest of plenteous food and clothing, educa- 
 tion, and delights, for his children !" 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 153 
 
 The people every where listened with eagerness 
 to these descriptions of American happiness, and 
 sighed to thinli of their own wretchedness. The 
 smothered fire soon broke out. The press teemed 
 with papers and pamphlets on the rights ol Man— 
 the true ends of government, — and the blessings of 
 Liberty. The eyes of the great nation were present- 
 ly opened to a sight of her degraded and wretched 
 state. Then suddenly springing up, like a mighty 
 giantess from the hated bed of violation and dis- 
 honour, she began a course of vengeance as terrible 
 as it had been long delayed. The unfortunate king 
 and queen were quickly brought low. The heads of 
 her tyrants every where bounded on the floors of 
 the guillotine ; while in every place dogs licked the 
 blood of nobles : and the bodies of great lords were 
 scattered like dung over the face of the earth. 
 
 Fearing that if France were suffered to go on at 
 this rate, there would not in a little time, be a crown 
 left in Europe, the crowned heads all confederated 
 to arrest her progress. The whole surrounding 
 world, both by land and water, was in commotion : 
 and tremendous fleets and armies poured in from 
 every side, to overwhelm her. With unanimity and 
 valour equal to their dangers, the war-loving Gauls 
 rushed forth in crowding millions to meet their foes. 
 The mighty armies joined in battle, appearing to the 
 terrified eye, as if the whole human race were rush- 
 ing together for mutual destruction. But not content 
 with setting the eastern world on fire, the furious 
 combatants (like Milton's warring Spirits tearing up 
 and flinging mountains and islands at each other) 
 flew to America to seize and drag her into their 
 war. 
 
 Flaming on this errand, Mr. Genet lighted on out 
 continent as an envoy from France. He was 
 received with joy as a brother republican. The peo- 
 ple every where welcomed him as the representative 
 of a beloved nation, to whom, under God, they owed 
 
154 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 theii liberties. Grand dinners were given — spark 
 ling bumpers were filled — and standing up round the 
 vast convivial board, with joined hands, and cheeks 
 glowing with friendship and the generous juice, they 
 rent the air with — " health and fraternity to the 
 sister republics of France and America." 
 
 Washington joined in the general hospitality to 
 the stranger. He extolled the valour, and congratu- 
 lated the victories of his brave countrymen. "Born, 
 sir," said he, " in a land of Liberty, for whose sake 
 I have spent the best years of my life in war, I can- 
 not but feel a trembling anxiety whenever I see an 
 oppressed people drawing their swords and rearing 
 aloft the sacred banners of freedom." 
 
 Enraptured at finding in America such a cordial 
 spirit towards his country, Mr. Genet instantly set 
 himself to call it into the fullest exertion. And by 
 artfully ringing the changes on British cruelty, and 
 French generosity, to the Americans, he so far 
 succeeded as to prevail on some persons in Charles- 
 ton to commence the equipment of privateers against 
 the British. Dazzled by the lustre of false gratitude 
 to one nation, they lost sight of their horrid injustice 
 to another : and during the profoundest peace be- 
 tween England and America, when the American 
 planters, by their flour, rice, and cotton, were making 
 money almost as fast as if they had mints upon 
 their estates; and when, on the other hand, the 
 British artisans were driving on their manufactures 
 day and night for the Americans — in this sacred 
 season and blissful state of things, certain persons 
 in Charleston began to equip privateers against 
 England. 
 
 Grieved that his countrymen should be capable oi 
 such an outrage against justice, against humanity,and 
 every thing sacred among men ; and equally grieved 
 to see them so far forget, so far belittle themselves as 
 to become willing cat's paws of one nation, to tear 
 another tc pieces, he instantly issued his proclama 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 155 
 
 tion, stating it as the " duty, and therefore the 
 interest of the United States, to preserve the strictest 
 neutrahty between the belhgerents : and prohibiting 
 the citizens of the United States, from all manner of 
 interference in the unhappy contest.'^ 
 
 This so enraged Mr. Genet, that he threatened to 
 appsal from the president to the people ! i. e. in 
 plain English, to try to overthrow the government of 
 the United States ! ! 
 
 But, thank God, the American people were too 
 wise and virtuous to hear these things without feeling 
 and expressing a suitable indignation. They rallied 
 around their beloved president ; and soon gave this 
 most inconsiderate stranger to understand, that he 
 had insulted the sacred person of their father. 
 
 Washington bore this insult with his usual good 
 temper ! but at the same time took such prudent 
 measures with the French government, that Mr, 
 Genet was quickly recalled. 
 
 Having at length attained the acme of all his 
 wishes — having lived to see a general and efficient 
 government adopted, and for eight years in success- 
 ful operation, exalting his country from the brink of 
 mfamy and ruin to the highest ground of prosperity 
 and honour, both at home and abroad — abroad, peace 
 with Britain — with Spain — and, some sUght heart 
 burnings excepted, peace with France, and with all 
 the world : at home, peace with the Indians — our 
 shining ploughshares laying open the best treasures 
 of the earth — our ships flying over every sea — dis- 
 tant nations feeding on our bread, and manufacturing 
 our staples — our revenue rapidly increasing with our 
 credit, religion, learning, arts, and whatever tends to 
 national glory and happiness, he determined to lay 
 down that load of public care which he had borne 
 so long, and which, now in his 66th year, he found 
 was growing too heavy for him. But feeling 
 towards his countryrr on the solicitude of a father for 
 his children, over whom he had long watched, but 
 
'56 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 whom he was about to leave to themselves ; and 
 fearing, on the one hand, that they might go astray, 
 and hoping, on the other, that from his long labours 
 of love, he might be permitted to impart the counsels 
 of his long experience, he drew up for them a fare- 
 well address, which the filial piety of the nation has 
 since called " his Legacy." 
 
 As this little piece, about the length of an ordinary 
 sermon, may do as much good to the people ot 
 America as any sermon ever preached, that Divine 
 one on the mount excepted, I shall offer no apology 
 for laying it before them; especially as I well know- 
 that they will all read it with the feeUngs of children 
 reading the last letter of a once loved father now in 
 his grave. And who knows but it may check for 
 a while the fatal flame of discord which has destroy- 
 ed all the once glorious republics of antiquity, and 
 here now at length in the United States has caught 
 upon the last republic that is left on the face of the 
 earth. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. ISf 
 
 WASHINGTON'S LAST WORDS 
 
 TO THE PEOPLE OF THE UNITED STATUS 
 
 September, 1796. 
 
 ^Friends and Fellou) Citizens, 
 
 " The period for a new election of a citizen, to 
 administer the executive government of the United 
 States, being not far distant — and the time actually- 
 arrived when your thoughts must be employed m 
 designating the person who is to be clothed with that 
 important trust — it appears to me proper, especially 
 as it may conduce to a more distinct expression of 
 the public voice, that I should now apprise you of 
 Che resolution I have formed, to decline being con- 
 sidered among the number of those out of whom a 
 choice is to be made. 
 
 " I beg you, at the same time, to do me the justice 
 to be assured, that this resolution has not been taken 
 without a strict regard to all the considerations 
 appertaining to the relation which binds a dutiful 
 citizen to his country; and that, in withdrawing the 
 tender of service, which silence in my situation might 
 imply, I am influenced by no diminution of zeal 
 for your future interest, no deficiency of grateful 
 respect for your past kindness ; but am supported 
 by a full conviction, that the step is compatible wi(h 
 both. 
 
 « The acceptance of, and continuance hitherto in, 
 the office to which your suffrages have twice called 
 me, have been a uniform sacrifice of inclination to 
 Che opinion of duty, and to a deference for what 
 appeared to be your desire. I constantly hoped, 
 ^hat it would have been much earlier in my power, 
 consistently with motives which I was not at liberty 
 
 14 13 
 
158 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 lo disregard, to return to that retirement from which 
 
 had been reluctantly drawn. The strength of my 
 inchnation to do this previous to the last election, 
 had even led to the preparation of an address to 
 declare it to you. But mature reflection on the then 
 perplexed and critical posture of our affairs with 
 foreign nations, and the unanimous advice of persons 
 entitled to my confidence, impelled me to abandon 
 the idea. 
 
 *' I rejoice that the state of your concerns, external 
 as well as internal, no longer renders the pursuit of 
 inclination incompatible with the sentiment of duty 
 or propriety ; and am persuaded, whatever partiality 
 may be retained for my services, that, in the present 
 circumstances of our country, you will not disapprove 
 my determination to retire. 
 
 " The impressions with which I first undertook the 
 arduous trust, were explained on the proper occa- 
 sions. In the discharge of this trust, I will only say, 
 that I have, with good intentions, contributed towards 
 the organization and administration of the govern- 
 ment, the best exertions of which a very fallible 
 judgment was capable. Not unconscious, in the 
 outset, of the inferiority of my qualifications, ex- 
 perience in my own eyes, perhaps still more in the 
 eyes of others, has strengthened the motives to 
 diffidence of myself : and every day the increasing 
 weight of years admonishes me more and more that 
 the shade of retirement is as necessary to me as it 
 will be welcome. Satisfied that if any circumstances 
 have given pe^^uiiar value to my services, they 
 were temporary, I have the consolation to believe, 
 that while choice and prudence invite me to quit the 
 poUtical scene, patriotism does not forbid it. 
 
 " In looking forward to the moment which is 
 intended to terminate the career of my public life, 
 my feelings do not permit me to suspend the deep 
 acknowledgment of that debt of gratitude which I 
 owe to my beloved country, for the many honours it 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 159 
 
 has conferred upon me ; still more for the steadfast 
 confidence with which it has supported me ; and for 
 the opportunities I have thence enjoyed of manifest- 
 ing my inviolable attachment, by services faithful 
 and persevering, though in usefulness unequal to 
 my zeal. If benefits have resulted to our country 
 from these services, let it always be remembered to 
 your praise, and as an instructive example in our 
 annals, that, under circumstances, in which the 
 passions, agitated in every direction, were liable to 
 mislead — amidst appearances sometimes dubious — 
 vicissitudes of fortune often discouraging — in situa- 
 tions in which not unfrequently want of success has 
 countenanced the spirit of criticism — the constancy 
 of your support was the essential prop of the efforts, 
 and a guarantee of the plans by which they were 
 effected. Profoundly penetrated with this idea, I 
 shall carry it with me to my grave, as a strong 
 incitement to unceasing vows that Heaven may 
 continue to you the choicest tokens of its bene- 
 ficence ; that your union and brotherly affection 
 may be perpetual ; that the free constitution, which 
 is the work of your hands, may be sacredly main- 
 tained ; that its administration, in every department, 
 may be stamped with wisdom and virtue ; that, in 
 fine, the happiness of the people of these states, 
 under the auspices of Heaven, may be made com- 
 plete, by so careful a preservation and so prudent 
 a use of liberty, as will acquire to them the glory of 
 recommending it to the applause, the affection, and 
 the adoption of every nation which is yet a stra\.ger 
 to it. 
 
 " Here, perhaps, I ought to stop. But a s' licitude 
 lor your welfare, which cannot end but with my life, 
 and the apprehension of danger, natural to that soli- 
 cuude, urge me, on an occasion like the present, to 
 offer to your solemn contemplation, and to recom- 
 mend to your frequent review, some sentiments, 
 which are the result of much reflection, of no incon- 
 
160 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 siderabie observation, and which appear to me aC 
 important to the permanency of your felicity as a 
 people. These will be offered to you with the more 
 freedom, as you can only see in them the disinterested 
 warnings of a parting friend, who can possibly have 
 no personal motive to bias his counsel. Nor can I 
 forget, as an encouragement to it, your hidulgent 
 reception of my sentiments on a former and not 
 dissimilar occasion. 
 
 " Interwoven as is the love of liberty with every 
 ligament of your hearts, no recommendation of mine 
 is necessary to fortify or confirm the attachment. 
 
 « The unity of government, which constitutes you 
 one people, is also now dear to you. It is justly so ; 
 for it is a main pillar in the edifice of your real inde- 
 pendence; the support of your tranquillity at home, 
 your peace abroad ; of your safety ; of your prospe- 
 rity ; of that very liberty which you so highly prize. 
 But as it is easy to foresee, that from different causes, 
 and from different quarters, much pains will be taken, 
 many artifices employed, to weaken in your minds 
 the conviction of this truth ; as this is the point in 
 your political fortress, against which the batteries of 
 internal and external enemies will be most constantly 
 and actively (though often covertly and insidiously) 
 directed ; it is of infinite moment, that you should 
 properly estimate the immense value of your national 
 union, to your collective and individual happniess ; 
 that you should cherish a cordial, habitual, and im- 
 moveable attachment to it ; accustoming yourselves 
 to think and speak of it as of the palladium of your 
 political safety and prosperity ; watching for its pre- 
 servation with jealous anxiety; discountenancing 
 whatever may suggest even a suspicion that it can 
 m any event be abandoned; and indignantly frown- 
 mg upon the first dawning of every attempt to alien 
 any portion of our country from the rest^ or to en- 
 feeble the sacred ties which now link together tho 
 various parts. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 161 
 
 " For this you have every inducement of sympathy 
 and interest. Citizens, by birth or choice, of a com 
 mon country, that country has a right to concentrate 
 your affections. The name of American, which be 
 longs to you in your national capacity, must alway 
 exa t the just pride of patriotism, more than any ap- 
 pel.ation derived from local discriminations. Witt- 
 slight shades of difference, you have the same reli- 
 gion, manners, habits and political principles. You 
 have, in a common cause, fought and triumphed to- 
 gether. The independence and liberty you possess 
 are the work of joint councils, and joint efforts — of 
 common dangers, sufferings and successes. 
 
 "But these considerations, however powerfully 
 they address themselves to your sensibility, are 
 greatly outweighed by those which apply more im- 
 mediately to your interest. Here every poition of 
 our country finds the most commanding motives for 
 carefully guarding and preserving the union of the 
 whole. 
 
 « The NORTH, in an unrestrained intercourse with 
 the SOUTH, protected by the equal laws of a common 
 government, finds in the productions of the latter, 
 great additional resources of maritime and commer- 
 cial enterprize, and precious materials of manufac- 
 turing industry. The south, in the same intercourse 
 benefiting by the agency of the north, sees its agri- 
 culture grow, and its commerce expand. Turning 
 partly into its own channels the seamen of the north, 
 it finds its particular navigation invigorated : and 
 while it contributes, in different ways, to nourish and 
 Increase the general mass of the national navigation, 
 it looks forward to the protection of a maritime 
 strength, to which itself is unequally adapted. — The 
 EAST, in a like intercourse with the west, already 
 finds, and in the progressive improvement of interior 
 communications, by land and water, will more and 
 more find a valuable vent lor the commodities which 
 It brings from abroad, or manufactures at home. — 
 14* 13* 
 
1611 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 The WEST derives from the east supplies requisite 
 to its growth and comfort : and what is, perhaps, of 
 stiU greater consequence, it must of necessity owe 
 the SECURE enjoyment of indispensible outlets for 
 its own productions, to the weight, influence, and 
 the future maritime strength of the Atlantic side of 
 the Union, directed by an indissoluble community of 
 interest, as one nation. Any other tenure, by which 
 the west can hold this essential advantage, whether 
 derived from its own separate strength, or from an 
 apostate and unnatural connexion with any foreign 
 power must be intrinsically precarious. 
 
 " While then every part of our country thus feels 
 an immediate and particular interest in union, all the 
 parties combined cannot fail to find, in the united 
 mass of means and efforts, greater strength, greater 
 resources, proportionably greater security from exter- 
 nal danger, a less frequent interruption of their peace 
 by foreign nations. And, what is of inestimable 
 value, they must derive from union an exemption 
 from those broils and wars between themselves, 
 which so frequently afflict neighbouring countries, 
 not tied together by the same government ; which 
 their own rivalships alone would be sufficient to pro- 
 duce, but which opposite foreign alliances, attach- 
 ments, and intrigues, would stimulate and embitter. 
 Hence, likewise, they will avoid the necessity of 
 those overgrown military establishments, which 
 under any form of government, are inauspicious to 
 liberty ; and which are to be regarded as particularly 
 hostile to republican liberty. In this sense it is, that 
 your union ought to be considered as a main prop of 
 your liberty, and that the love of the one ought to 
 endear to you the preservation of the other. 
 
 "These considerations speak a persuasive language 
 to every reflecting and virtuous mind ; and exhibit 
 the continuance of the union as a primary object of 
 patriotic desire. Is there a doubt, whether a common 
 government can embrace so large a sphere. Lei 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 163 
 
 experience solve it. To listen to mere speculation 
 in such a case were criminal. We are authorised to 
 hope that a proper organization of the whole, with 
 the auxiliary agency of governments for the respective 
 subdivisions, will afford a happy issue to the experi- 
 ment. 'Tis well worth a fair and full experiment. 
 With such powerful and obvious motives to union, 
 affecting all parts of our country, while experience 
 shall not have demonstrated its impracticabiUty, there 
 will always be reason to distrust the patriotism of 
 those, who in any quarter may endeavor to weaken 
 its bands. 
 
 " In contemplating the causes which may disturb 
 our union, it occurs, as a matter of serious concern, 
 that any ground should have been furnished for cha- 
 racterizing parties by geographical discriminations — 
 northern and southern — atlanticand western ; whence 
 designing men may endeavor to excite a belief, that 
 there is a real difference of local interests and views. 
 One of the expedients of party to acquire influence, 
 within particular districts, is to misrepresent the 
 opinions and aims of other districts. You cannot 
 shield yourselves too much against the jealousies 
 and heart-burnings which spring from these misre- 
 presentations. They tend to render alien to each 
 other, those who ought to be bound together by fra- 
 ternal affection. The inhabitants of our western 
 country have lately had a useful lesson on this head. 
 They have seen, in the negociation by the executive, 
 and in the unanimous ratification by the senate, of 
 the treaty with Spain, and in the universal satisfac- 
 tion at that event throughout the United States, a 
 decisive proof how unfounded were the suspicions 
 propagated among them, of a policy in the general 
 government, and in the Atlantic States, unfriendly to 
 their interest in regard to the Mississippi. They 
 have been witnesses to the formation of two treaties, 
 that with Great-Britain, and that with Spain, which 
 secure to them every thing they could desire, m 
 
164 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 respect to our foreign relations, towards confirming 
 their posterity. Will it not be their wisdom to rely 
 for the preservation of these advantages on the anion 
 by which they were procured ? Will they not hence 
 forth be deaf to those advisers, if such there are, who 
 would sever from them their brethren, and connect 
 vhem with aliens ? 
 
 "To the efficacy and permanency of your union, 
 a government for the whole is indispensable. No al- 
 hances, however strict, between the parts, can be an 
 adequate substitute. They must inevitably experience 
 the infractions and interruptions which all aUiances 
 in all times have experienced. Sensible of this mo- 
 mentous truth, you have improved upon your first 
 essay, by the adoption of a constitution of govern- 
 ment belter calculated than your former, for an inti- 
 mate union, and for the efficacious management of 
 your common concerns. This government, the off 
 spring of your own choice, uninfluenced and unawed, 
 adopted upon full investigation and mature delibera- 
 tion, completely free in its principles, in the distribu- 
 tion of its powers, uniting security with energy, and 
 containing within itself a provision for its own 
 amendment, has a just claim to your confidence and 
 your support. Respect for its authority, compliance 
 with its laws, acquiescence in its measures, are duties 
 enjoined by the fundamental maxims of true liberty. 
 The basis of our political systems is the right of the 
 people to make and alter their constitutions of gov- 
 ernment. But the constitution which at any time 
 exists, till changed by an explicit and authentic act 
 of the whole people, is sacredly obligatory upon all. 
 The very idea of the power and the right of the 
 people to establish government, pre-supposes the 
 duty of ever/ individual to obey the established 
 government. 
 
 " All obstructions to the execution of the laws, all 
 combinations and associations, under whatever plau 
 Sible character, with a real desiirn to direct, control, 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 165 
 
 counteract, or awe the regular deliberation ai. 1 actio»j 
 of the constituted authorities, are destructive of this 
 fundamental principle, and of fatal tendency. They 
 serve to organize faction ; to give it an artificial and 
 extraordinary force ; to put in the place of the dele- 
 gated will of the nation, the will of a party, often a 
 small, but artful and enterprising minority of the 
 community ; and, according to the alternate triumphs 
 of different parties, to make the public administration 
 the mirror of the ill-concerted and incongruous pro- 
 jects of faction, rather than the organ of consistent 
 and wholesome plans, digested by common counsels, 
 and modified by mutual interests. 
 
 " However combinations or associations of the 
 above description may now and then answer popular 
 ends, they are likely, in the course of time and things, 
 to become potent engines, by which cunning, ambi- 
 tious, and unprincipled men will be enabled to sub- 
 vert the power of the people ; and to usurp to them- 
 selves the reins of government ; destroying after- 
 wards the very engines which have lifted them to 
 unjust dominion. 
 
 " Towards the preservation of your government, 
 and the permanency of your present happy state, it 
 is requisite, not only that you speedily discountenance 
 irregular oppositions to its acknowledged authority, 
 but also that you resist with care the spirit of inno- 
 vation upon its principles, however specious the 
 pretexts. One method of assault may be to effect, 
 in the forms of the constitution, alterations which 
 will impair the energy of the system ; and thus to 
 undermine what cannot be directly overthrown. In 
 all the changes to which you may be invited, remem- 
 ber that time and habit are at least as necessary to 
 fix the true character of government, as of other hu- 
 man institutions ; that experience is the surest stand- 
 ard, by which to test the real tendency of the existing 
 constitution of a country ; that facility in changes, 
 upon the credit of mere hypothesis and opinion 
 
16& 
 
 LIFE OF WASHINGTON 
 
 exposes to perpetual change, from the endless variety 
 of hypothesis and opinion. And re member, especially, 
 that for the efficient management of your common 
 mterests, in a country so extensive as ours, a govern- 
 ment of as much vigor as is consistent with the 
 perfect security of liberty, is indispensable. Liberty 
 itself will find in such a government, with powers 
 properly distributed and adjusted, its surest guardian. 
 It is, indeed, little else than a name, where the gov- 
 ernment is too feeble to withstand the enterprises of 
 faction ; to confine each member of the society within 
 the limits prescribed by the laws ; and to maintain 
 all in the secure and tranquil enjoyment of the rights 
 of person and property. 
 
 *' I have already intimated to you the danger of 
 the parties in the state, with particular reference to 
 the founding of them on geographical discriminations. 
 Let me now take a more comprehensive view, and 
 warn you in the most solemn manner against the 
 baneful effects of the spirit of party, generally. 
 
 " This spirit, unfortunately, is inseparable from 
 our nature, having its root in the strongest passions 
 of the human mind. It exists mider difterent shapes 
 in all governments, more or less stitied, controlled, or 
 repressed. But in those of the popular form, it is seen 
 m its greatest rankness; and is truly their worst 
 enemy. 
 
 "The alternate dominion of one faction over 
 another, sharpened by the spirit of revenge natural 
 to party dissention, which, in different ages and 
 countries, has perpetrated the most horrid enormities, 
 is itself frightful despotism. But this leads at length 
 to a formal and permanent despotism. The disorders 
 and miseries which result, gradually incline the minds 
 of men to seek security and repose in the absolute 
 power of an individual. And, sooner or later, the 
 chief of some prevailing faction, more able or more 
 fortunate than his competitors, turns this disposition 
 to the purposes of his own elevation, on the juins ol 
 public liberty. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 16'' 
 
 « Without looking forward to in extremity of tlua 
 kind (which, nevertheless, ought not to be entirely 
 our of sight,) the common and continual mischiefs of 
 the spirh of party are sufficient to make it the interest 
 and duty of a wise people to discourage and restrain it 
 
 " It serves always to distract the public councils, 
 and enfeeble the public administration. It agitates 
 the community with ill founded jealousies and false 
 alarms; kindles the animosity of one part against 
 another ; foments occasionally riot and insurrection ; 
 and opens the door to foreign influence and corrup- 
 tion, which find a facilitated access to the government 
 itself through the channels of party passions. Thus 
 the policy and will of one country are subjected to 
 the policy and will of another. 
 
 " There is an opinion that parties in free countries 
 are useful checks upon the administration of the gov- 
 ernment, and serve to keep alive the spirit of liberty. 
 This, within certain limits, is probably true, and, in 
 governments of a monarchical cast, patriotism may 
 look with indulgence, if not with favor, upon the 
 spirit of party. But in those of the popular character, 
 in governments purely elective, it is a spirit not to be 
 encouraged. From their natural tendency, it is cer- 
 tain there will always be enough of this spirit for 
 every salutary purpose. And there being constant 
 danger of excess, the effort ought to be, by force of 
 public opinion, to mitigate and assuage it. A fire 
 not to be quenched, it demands a uniform vigilance 
 to prevent its bursting into a flame, lest, instead of 
 wa^-ming, it should consume. 
 
 " It is important, likewise, that the habits of think- 
 ing in a free country should inspire caution, in those 
 entrusted with its administration, to confine themsel- 
 ves within their respective constitutional spheres, 
 avoiding, in the exercise of the powers of one depart- 
 ment, to encroach upon another. The spirit of en- 
 3roachm( nt tends to consolidate the powers of all the 
 departments in one, and thus to create, whatever the 
 
l«8 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 form of government, a real despotism. A jnst esti- 
 mate of that love of power, and proneness to abuse 
 it, which predominates in the human heart, is suffi- 
 cient to satisfy us of the truth of this position. The 
 necessity of reciprocal checks, in the exercise of poli- 
 tical power, by dividing and distributing it into dif- 
 ferent depositories, and constituting each the guardian 
 of pubUc weal against invasions by the others, has 
 been evinced by experiments ancient and modern : 
 some of them in our country, and under our own 
 eyes. To preserve them must be as necessary as to 
 institute them. If, in the opinion of the people, the 
 distribution or modification of the constitutional pow- 
 ers be in any particular wrong, let it be corrected bv 
 an amendment in the way which the constitution 
 designates. But let there be no change by usurpa- 
 tion ; for though this, in one instance, may be the 
 instrument of good, it is the customary weapon by 
 which free governments are destroyed. The precedent 
 must always greatly overbalance, in permanent evil, 
 any partial or transient benefit which the use can at 
 any time yield. 
 
 " Of all the dispositions and habits which lead to 
 political prosperity, religion and morality are indis- 
 pensable supports. In vain would that man claim 
 the tribute of patriotism, who should labor to sub- 
 vert these great pillars of human happiness, these 
 firmest props of the duties of men and citizens. The 
 mere politician, equally with the pious man, ought 
 to respect and to cherish them. A volume could not 
 trace all their connexions with private and. public 
 felicity. Let it be simply asked, where is the security 
 for property, for reputation, for life, if the sense of 
 religious obligations desert the oaths, which are the 
 instruments of investigation in the courts of justice? 
 And let us with caution indulge the supposition, that 
 morality can be obtained without religion. What- 
 ever may be conceded to the influence of refined edu- 
 cation on minds of peculiar structure, reason and ex 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 16* 
 
 perience both forbid us to expect that national moral- 
 ity can prevail in exclusion of religious principle. 
 
 •« 'Tis substantially true, that virtue or morality is 
 a necessary spring of popular government. The rule 
 mdeed extends with more or less force to every spe- 
 cies of free government. Who that is a sincere 
 friend to it can look with indifference upon at- 
 tempts to shake the foundation of the fabric ? 
 
 " Promote, then, as an object of primary import- 
 ance, institutions for the general diffusion of know 
 ledge. In proportion as the structure of a govern- 
 ment gives force to public opinion, it is essential that 
 public opinion should be enlightened. 
 
 " As a very important source of strength and se- 
 curity, cherish public credit. One method of preserv 
 ing it, is to use it as sparingly as possible ; avoiding 
 occasions of expense by cultivating peace ; but re- 
 membering also that timely disbursements to prepare 
 for danger frequently prevent much greater disburse- 
 ments to repel it , avoiding likewise the accumula- 
 tions of debt, not only by shunning occasions of 
 expense, but by vigorous exertions, in time of peace, 
 to discharge the debts which unavoidable wars may 
 have occasioned; not ungenerously throwing upon 
 posterity the burden which we ourselves ought to 
 bear. The execution of these maxims belongs to 
 your representatives ; but it is necessary that public 
 opinion should co-operate. To facilitate to them the 
 performance of their duty, it is essential that you 
 should practically bear in mind, that towards the pay- 
 ment of debts there must be revenue ; that to have 
 revenue there must be taxes ; that no taxes can be 
 devised which are not more or less inconvenient and 
 unpleasant; that the intrinsic embarrassment inse- 
 parable from the selection of the proper object (which 
 is always a choice of difficulties) ought to be a deci- 
 sive motive for a candid construction of the conduct 
 of the government in making it, and for a spirit ol 
 
 15 14 
 
170 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 acquiescence in the measures for obtaining rev^eniie, 
 which the public exigencies may at any time dictate. 
 
 " Observe good faith and justice towards all na- 
 tions ; cultivate peace and harmony with all. Reli- 
 gion and morality enjoin this conduct : and can it be 
 that good policy does nut equally enjoin it ? It will be 
 worthy of a free, enlightened, and at no distant period 
 a great nation, to give to mankind the magnanimous 
 and too novel example of a people always guided by 
 an exalted justice and benevolence. Who can doubt 
 that m the course of time and things, the fruits of 
 such a plan would richly repay any temporary ad- 
 vantages which might be lost by a steady adherence 
 to it. Can it be, that Providence has not connected 
 the permanent felicity of a nation with its virtue } 
 The experiment, at least, is recommended by every 
 sentiment which ennobles human nature. Alas ! is 
 it rendered impossible by its vices ? 
 
 " In the execution of such a plan, nothing is more 
 essential than that permanent, inveterate antipathies 
 against particular nations, and passionate attachments 
 f3r others, should be excluded ; and that in place of 
 them just and amicable feelings towards all should 
 be cultivated. The nation which indulges towards 
 another an habitual hatred, or an habitual fondness, 
 is in some degree a slave. It is a slave to its ani- 
 mosity or to its affection, either of which is sufficient 
 to lead it astray from its duty and its interest. Anti- 
 pathy in one nation against another disposes each 
 more readily to oifer insult and injury ; to lay hold 
 of slight causes of umbrage ; and to be haughty and 
 intractable, when accidental or trifling occasions of 
 dispute occur. Hence frequent collisions, obstinate, 
 envenomed, and bloody contests. The nation, 
 prompted by ill-will and resentment, sometimes 
 impels to war the government, contrary to the bes* 
 Ci*lv.uiations of policy. The government sometimes 
 p;^*iicipa*es in the national propensity; and adopts, 
 throug' ^jassion, what reason would reject. At ')t.hei 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 17S 
 
 times, it makes the animosity of the nation subser- 
 vient to projects of hostility, instigated by pride, am- 
 bition, and other sinister and pernicious motives. 
 The peace often, sometimes perhaps the liberty, of 
 nations has been the victim. 
 
 " So, Ukewise, a passionate attachment of one na 
 tion for another produces a variety of evils. Sympa- 
 thy for the favorite nation, faciUtating the illusion of 
 an imaginary common interest, in cases where no 
 real common interest exists, and infusing into one the 
 enmities of the other, betrays the former into a par- 
 ticipation in the quarrels and wars of the latter, with- 
 out adequate inducement or justification. It leads 
 also to concessions to the favorite nation, of privileges 
 denied to others, which is apt doubly to injure the 
 nation, making the concessions; by unnecessarily 
 parting with what ought to have been retained ; and 
 by exciting jealousy, ill-will, and a disposition to 
 retaliate, in the parties from whom equal privileges 
 are withheld. And it gives to ambitious, corrupted, 
 or deluded citizens (who devote themselves to the 
 favourite nation) facility to betray or sacrifice the 
 interests of their own country, without odium, some- 
 times even with popularity ; gilding, with the appear- 
 ances of a virtuous sense of obligation, a commend- 
 able deference for public opinion, or a laudable zeal 
 for public good, the base or foolish compliances of 
 ambition, corruption, or infatuation. 
 
 " As avenues to foreign influence in innumerable 
 ways, such attachments are particularly alarming to 
 the truly enlightened and independent patriot. How 
 many opportunities do they afford to tamper with 
 domestic factions ; to practise the arts of seduction ; 
 to mislead public opinion ; to influence or awe the 
 public councils ! Such an attachment of a small or 
 weak, towards a great and pov/erful nation, dooms 
 the former to be the satellite of the latter. 
 
 " Against the insidious wiles of foreign influence 
 (I conjure you to believe me, fellow-citizens) the 
 iealousy of a free people ought to be constantly 
 
112 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 awake ; since history and experience prove that 
 foreign influence is one of the most baneful foes oi 
 republican government. But that jealousy, to be 
 useful, must be impartial ; else it becomes the instru- 
 ment of the very influence to be avoided, instead of 
 a defence against it. Excessive partiality for one 
 foreign nation, and excessive dislike of another, cause, 
 those whom they actuate, to see danger only on one 
 side ; and serve to veil and even second tlie arts of 
 influence on the other. Real patriots, who may 
 resist the mtrigues of the favorite, are liable to become 
 suspected and odious, while its fools and dupes usurp 
 the applause and confidence of the people, to sur- 
 render their interests. 
 
 " The great rule of conduct for us, in regard to 
 foreign nations, is, in extending our commercial rela- 
 tions, to have with them as little political connexion 
 as possible. So far as we have already formed en- 
 gagements, let them be fulfilled with perfect good 
 faith. Here let us stop. 
 
 " Europe has a set of primary interests, which to 
 us have none, or a very remote relation. Hence she 
 must be engaged in frequent controversies, the 
 causes of which are essentially foreign to our concerns 
 Hence, therefore, it must be unwise in us to implicate 
 ourselves, by artificial ties, in the ordinary vicissitudes 
 of her politics, or the ordinary combinations and colli- 
 sions of her friendships or enmities. 
 
 " Our detached and distant situation invites and 
 enables us to pursue a different course. If we remaih 
 one people, under an efficient government, the period 
 is not far off, when we may defy material injury from 
 external annoyance ; when we may take such an 
 attitude as will cause the neutrality, we may at any 
 time resolve upon, to be scrupulously respected ; 
 when belligerent nations, under the impossibility of 
 making acquisitions upon us, will not lightly hazard 
 the giving us provocations ; when we may choose 
 peace or war, as our interest, guided by justice, shaU 
 counsel. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 173 
 
 « Why forego the advantages of so peculiar a situa- 
 tjon ? Why quit our own, to stand upon foreign 
 ground ? AVhy, by interweaving our destiny with 
 that of any part of Europe, entangle our peace and 
 prosperity in the toils of European ambition, rivai- 
 ship, interest, humour, or caprice ? 
 
 <•' 'Tis our true policy to steer clear of permanent 
 alliances, with any portion of the foreign world ; so 
 far, I mean, as we are now at liberty to do it ; for let 
 me not be understood as capable of patronising in- 
 fidelity to existing engagements. I hold the maxim 
 no less applicable to public than to private affairs, 
 that honesty is always the best policy. I repeat it, 
 therefore, let those engagements be observed in their 
 genuine sense. But, in my opinion, it is unnecessary, 
 and would be unwise, to extend them. 
 
 " Taking care always to keep ourselves, by suitable 
 establishments, in a respectable defensive posture, 
 we may safely trust to temporary alliances for extra- 
 ordinary emergencies. 
 
 "Harmony and a liberal intercourse with all nations, 
 are recommended by policy, humanity, and interest. 
 But even our commercial policy should hold an equal 
 and impartial hand ; neither seeking nor granting 
 exclusive favors or preferences; consulting the natural 
 course of things ; diffusing and diversifying by gentle 
 means the streams of commerce, but forcing nothing ; 
 establishing, (with powers so disposed, in order to 
 give trade a stable course, to define the rights of our 
 merchants, and to enable the government to support 
 them,) conventional rules of intercourse, the best that 
 present circumstances and mutual opinion will permit, 
 but temporary, and liable to be from time to time 
 abandoned or varied, as experience and circumstances 
 shall dictate ; constantly keeping in view, that it is 
 folly in one nation to look for disinterested favors 
 from another ; that it must pay with a portion of its 
 independence, for whatever it may accept under that 
 tharacter; that, by such acceptance, it may place 
 15* 14* 
 
174 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 itself m the condition of having given equivalents for 
 nominal favors, and yet of being reproached with 
 ingratitude for not giving more. There can be no 
 greater error than to expect or calculate upon real 
 favors from nation to nation. It is an illusion which 
 experience must cure, which a just pride ought to 
 discard. 
 
 " In offering to you, my countrymen, these coun- 
 sels of an old and affectionate friend, I dare not hope 
 they will make the strong and lasting impression I 
 could wish ; that they will control the usual current 
 of the passions, or prevent our nation from running 
 the course which has hitherto marked the destiny of 
 nations ! but, if I may even flatter myself, that they 
 may be productive of some partial benefit, some oc- 
 casional good ; that they may now and then recur to 
 moderate the fury of party spirit ; to warn against 
 the mischiefs of foreign intrigue ; to guard against 
 the impostures of pretended patriotism; this hope 
 will be a full recompense for the solicitude for youi 
 welfare, by which they have been dictated. 
 
 " How far, in the discharge of my official duties, I 
 have been guided by the principles which have been 
 delineated, the public records and other evidences of 
 my conduct must witness to you and to the world. 
 To myself, the assurance of my own conscience is, 
 that I have, at least, believed myself to be guided by 
 them. 
 
 " In relation to the still subsisting war in Europe, 
 my proclamation of the 22nd of April, 1793, is the 
 index to my plan. Sanctioned by your approving 
 voice, and by that of your representatives in both 
 houses of congress, the spirit of that measure has 
 continually governed me, uninfluenced by any at- 
 tempts to defer or divert me from it. 
 
 " After deliberate examination, with the aid of the 
 best lights I could obtain, I was well satisfied that 
 our country, under all the circumstances of the case, 
 had a right to take, and was bound in duty ami 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 175 
 
 interest to take, a neutral position. Having taken it^ 
 I determined, as far as should depend upon me, to 
 maintain it with moderation, perseverance and firm 
 uess. 
 
 " The considerations which respect the right to 
 hold this conduct, it is not necessary on this occasion 
 to detail. I will only observe, that according to my 
 understanding of the matter, that right, so far from 
 being denied by any of the belligerent powers, has 
 been virtually admitted by all. 
 
 " The duty of holding a neutral conduct may be 
 inferred, without any thing more, from the obligation 
 which justice and humanity impose on every nation, 
 in cases in which it is free to act, to maintain in- 
 violate the relations of peace and amity towards 
 other nations. 
 
 " The inducements of interest for observing that 
 conduct will best be referred to your own reflections 
 and experience. With me, a predominant motive 
 has been to endeavour to gain time to our country 
 to settle and mature its yet recent institutions, and 
 to progress without interruption to that degree ol 
 strength and consistency, which is necessary to give 
 it, humanly speaking, the command of its own 
 fortunes. 
 
 " Though, in reviewing the incidents of my 
 administration, I am unconscious of intentional 
 error, I am nevertheless too sensible of my defects, 
 not to think it probable that I may have committed 
 many errors. Whatever they may be, I fervently 
 beseech the Almighty to avert or mitigate the evils 
 to which they may tend. I shall also carry with me 
 the hope that my country will never cease to view 
 them with indulgence ; and that, aKer forty-five 
 years of my life dedicated to its service, witli an up- 
 right zeal, the faults of incompetent abilities will be 
 consigned to oblivion, as myself must soon be to the 
 mansions of rest. 
 
 " Relying on its kindness in this as in other things, 
 
176 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 and actuated by that fervent love towards it, which 
 is so natural to a man, who views in it the native 
 soil of himself and his progenitors for several gener- 
 ations, 1 anticipate with pleasing expectation tha* 
 retreat, in which I promise myself to reaUze, without 
 alloy, the sweet enjoyment of partaking, in the midst 
 of my fellow citizens, the benign influence of good 
 laws under a free government — the ever favourite 
 object of my heart, and the happy reward, as I trust, 
 of our mutual cause, labours and dangers. 
 
 G. WASHINGTON 
 " United States, 
 27 th Sept., 1796. 
 
 The appearance of this address in the gazettes of 
 the United States, struck every where a damp on the 
 spirits of the people. To be thus bidden farewell by 
 one to whom, in every time of danger, they had so 
 long and so fondly looked up, as, under God, their 
 surest and safest friend, could not but prove to them 
 a grievous shock. Indeed many could not refrain 
 from tears, especially when the^ came to that part 
 where he talked of being soon to be "consigned to 
 the mansions of rest." 
 
 During the next and last session that he ever met 
 congress, which began on the 7th of December, 
 1796, he laboured hard to induce that honourable 
 body instantly to set about the following public 
 works, which, to him, appeared all important to the 
 nation. 
 
 1st. Societies and institutions for the improvement 
 of agriculture. 
 
 2d. A navy. 
 
 3d. A military Academy. 
 
 4lh. A manufactory of arms. 
 
 5th. A national university. 
 
 On the 4th of March, 1797, he took his last leaee 
 of Philadelphia. Having ever been an enlightened 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 17^ 
 
 and virtuous republican, who deems it the first of 
 duties to honour the man whom the majority of his 
 countrymen had chosen to honour, Washington could 
 not think of going away, until he iiad first paid his 
 respects to the man of their choice. It was this that 
 retarded his journey — it was this tliat brought him 
 to the senate chamber. 
 
 About eleven o'clock, while the members of con- 
 gress, with numbers of the first characters, were 
 assembled in the senate hall, anxiously awaiting the 
 arrival of Mr. Adams, a modest rap was heard at 
 the door. Supposing it to be the president elect, the 
 attention of all was turned to the entry, when lo ! 
 instead of Mr. Adams and his suite, who should 
 appear but the honoured and beloved form of Wash- 
 ington, without attendants, and in his plain travelling 
 dress. Instantly tha joy of filial love sprung up in 
 all hearts, glowed in every face ; and bursted forth 
 in involuntary plaudits from every tongue. Present- 
 ly Mr. Adams entered with his attendants; but pass- 
 ed on in a great measure unnoticed. The father of 
 his country was in the presence o( his children, and 
 perhaps for the last time ; who then could divide his 
 attentions. Riveted on his face was every glistening 
 eye ; while busy memory, flying over the many toils 
 and dangers of his patriot life, gave the spectators up 
 to those delicious thoughts from which no obtruder 
 could break them without a sigh. 
 
 Having just waited to congratulate Mr. Adams on 
 liis inauguration, and very heartily to pray that "his 
 government might prove a great joy to himself and 
 a blessing to his country," he hastened to Mount Ver- 
 non ; to close in peace the short evening of this labo- 
 rious life ; and to wait for a better, even for that " rest 
 which remaineth for the people of God." 
 
 He carried with him the most fervent prayers of 
 congress, that " Heaven would })our its happiest 
 sunshine on the decline of his days." But this theii 
 prayer was not fully answered. On the contrary^ 
 
I7a LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 with respect to his country, at least, his evening sun 
 wont down under a cloud. 
 
 The French directory, engaged in a furious war 
 with England, turned to America for aid. But 
 Washington, wisely dreading the effects of war on 
 his young repubii«, and believing that she had an 
 unquestioned right to neutrality, most strictly injoined 
 it on his people by proclamation. This so enraged 
 the directory, that they presently gave orders to theii 
 cruizers, to seize American ships on the high seas — 
 that equal path which God had spread for the nations 
 to trade on ! Washington had sent out general 
 Charles C. Pinckney to remonstrate against such 
 iniquitous proceedings. The directory would not 
 receive him ! but still continued their spoliations on 
 our wide-spread and defenceless commerce, ruining 
 numbers of innocent families. Still determined, 
 according to Washington's advice, " so to act as to 
 put our enemy in the wrong," the American govern- 
 ment dispatched two other envoys, Gen. Marshall 
 and Elbridge Gerry, to aid Pinckney. But they fared 
 no better. Though they only supplicated for peace ; 
 though they only prayed to be permitted to make 
 explanations, they were still kept by the directory at 
 a most mortifying distance ; and, after all, were told, 
 that America was not to look for a single smile of 
 reconciliation, nor even a word on that subject, until 
 her envoys should bring large tribute in their hands ! ! 
 This, as Washington had predicted, instantly evapo- 
 rated the last drop of American patience. He had 
 always said, that " though some very interested or 
 deluded persons were much too fond of England and 
 France to value America as they ought ; yet he was 
 lirmly persuaded, that the great mass of the people 
 were hearty .overs of their country; and, as soon as 
 their eyes were open to the grievous injuries done 
 lier, would assuredly resent them, like men, to whom 
 God had given strong feelings, on purpose to guard 
 their rights." 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 17& 
 
 His prediction was gloriously verifi(3ci For, on 
 liearing the word tribute, the American envoys 
 instantly took fire! ! while the brave Gen. Pinckney, 
 (a revolutionary soldier, and neither Englishman nor 
 Frenchman, but a true American,) indignantly ex- 
 claimed to the secretary of the directory — "Tribute, 
 sir ! no, sir! the Americans pay no tribute ! tell the 
 directory, that we will give millions for defence, but 
 not a cent for tribute." 
 
 Soon as this demand of the directory was told in 
 America, the glorious spirit of '76 was kindled like 
 a flash of lightning, from St. Mary's to Maine. 
 " What !" said the people every where, " shall we, 
 shall Americans ! who, rather than pay an uncon- 
 stitutional three-penny tax on tea, bravely encounter- 
 ed a bloody war with Britain, now tamely yield to 
 France to beggar us at pleasure ? No ! Millions for 
 defence, but not a cent for tribute," was nobly rever- 
 berated throughout the continent. 
 
 War being now fully expected, the eyes of the 
 nation were instantly turned towards Washington, tc 
 liead her armies against the Fiench. He readily 
 consented ; but, at the same timCj objserved that there 
 would be no war. " The directory," said he, " though 
 mad enough to do almost any thing, are yet not quuc 
 so mad as to venture an attack, when they shall find 
 that the spirit of the nation is up." The event showea 
 the usual correctness of his judgment ; for, on discov- 
 ering that America, though very willing to be the 
 sister, had no notion of being the slave of France — on 
 learning that Washington was roused, and the 
 strength of the nation rallying around him — and also 
 that the American tars, led on by the gallant Trux- 
 ton, had spread the fiery stars of liberty, blasting oa 
 every sea the sickly fleurs-de-luce, of gallic piracy, 
 the directory very sagaciously signified a disposition 
 to accommodate. Mr. Adamsimmediately despatched 
 three new envoys to the French republic. By the 
 time they got there, the French republic was no 
 
180 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 more ! Bonaparte, believing that volatile people in 
 capable of governing for themselves, had kindly 
 undertaken to govern for them; and having, en 
 passant, kicked the directory from their seats, he 
 seized their ill-managed power, and very leisurely 
 mounted the throne of the Bourbons. Dazzled with 
 the splendor of his talents and victories, the great 
 nation quietly yielded to his reign ; and with a happy 
 versatility peculiar to themselves, exchanged the tu- 
 multuous and bloody " Caira,'* for the milder notes 
 of " vive I'empereur." With this wonderful man, 
 the American envoys found no difficulty to negotiate; 
 for having no wish to re-unite America to his haled 
 enemy, Britain, he received them very graciously; 
 and presently settled all their claims in a satisfactory 
 manner. Thus lovingly did the breath of God blow 
 away once more the black cloud of war, and restore 
 the bright day of peace to our favoured land ! But 
 Washington never lived to rejoice with his country- 
 men in the sunshine of that peace ; for before it 
 reached our shores, he had closed his eyes fo'* ever 
 on all mortal things. 
 
 CHAPTER XH. 
 
 THE DEATH OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 And when disease obstructs the labouring breath, 
 When the heart sickens and each pulse is death, 
 Even then Religion shall sustain the just ; 
 Grace their last moments ; nor desert their dust. 
 
 IF the prayers of millions could have prevailed, 
 Washington would have been immortal on earth. 
 And if fulness of peace, riches, and honours could 
 have rendered that immortality happy, Washington 
 had been blessed indeed. But this world is not the 
 place of true happiness. Though numberless are the 
 satisfactions, which a prudence and virtue like Wash 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON 181 
 
 mgton's may enjoy in this world, yel they fall short, 
 infinite degrees, of that pure, unembittered feUcity 
 which the Almighty parent has prepared in heaven 
 for the spirits of the just. 
 
 To prepare for this immensity of bliss, is the real 
 errand on which God sent us into the world. Our 
 preparation consists in acquiring those great virtues, 
 Durity and love, which alone can make us worthy 
 companions of angels, and fit partakers of their ex- 
 alted delights. Washington had wisely spent his life 
 in acquiring the immortal virtues. " He had fought 
 the good fight" against his own unreasonable afl'ec- 
 tions. He had glorified God, by exemplifying the 
 charms of virtue to men. He had borne the heat 
 and burden of the day — his great day of duty : and 
 the evening of old age being come, the servant of God 
 must now go to receive his wages. Happy Wash- 
 uigton ! If crowns and kingdoms could have purchas- 
 ed such peace as thine, such hopes big with immor- 
 tality, with what begging earnestness would crowns 
 and kingdoms have been offered by the mighty con- 
 querors of the earth, in their dying moments of terror 
 and despair ! 
 
 On the 14th of December, 1799, (when he wanted 
 but nine weeks and two days of^ being sixty-eight 
 years old,) he rode out to his mill, three miles distant. 
 The day was raw and ramy. The following night 
 he was attacked with a violent pain and inflamma 
 tion of the throat. The lancet of one of his domestics 
 was employed, but with no advantage. Early in the 
 morning. Dr. Craik, the friend and physician of his 
 youth and age, was sent for. Alarmed at the least 
 appearance of danger threatening a life so dear to 
 him. Dr. Craik advised to call in, immediately, the 
 consulting assistance of his friends, the ingenious and 
 learned Dr. Dick, of Alexandria, and Dr. Brown, of 
 Port Tobacco. They came on the wings of speed. 
 They felt the awfulness of their situation. The 
 greatest of human beings was lying low. A life, oi 
 
 16 15 
 
182 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 all others the most revered, the most beloved, was at 
 stake. And if human skill could have saved — '"f the 
 sword of genius, and the buckler of experience could 
 have turned the stroke of death, Washington had 
 still lived. But his hour was come. 
 
 It appears, that from the commencement of the 
 attack, he was favored with a presentiment, that he 
 was now laid down to rise no more. He took, how- 
 ever, the medicines that were offered him : but it was 
 principally from a sense of duty. 
 
 It has been said that a man's death is generally a 
 copy of his life. It was Washington's case exactly. 
 In his last illness he behaved with the firmness of a 
 soldier, and the resignation of a christian. 
 
 The inflammation in his throat was attended with 
 great pain, which he bore with the fortitude that be- 
 came him. He was, once or twice, heard to say that^ 
 ^had it pleased God, he should have been glad to die 
 a little easier ; but that he doubted not that it was for 
 his good. 
 
 Every hour now spread a sadder gloom over the 
 scene. Despair sat on the faces of the physicians ; 
 for they saw that their art had failed ! The strength 
 of the mighty was departing from him ; and death, 
 with his sad harbingers, chills and paleness, was 
 coming on apace. 
 
 Mount Vernon, which had long shone the queen 
 of lelegant joys, was now about to suffer a sad eclipse ! 
 an eclipse, which would soon be mournfully visible, 
 not only through the United States, but throughout 
 the whole world. 
 
 Sons and daughters of Columbia, gather yourselves 
 together around the bed of your expiring father — 
 around the last bed of him to whom under God you 
 and your children owe many of the best blessings of 
 this life. When Joseph the prime minister of Egypt 
 heard that his shepherd father was sick, he hastened 
 up, to see him ; and fell on his face, and kissed him, 
 and wept a long while But Joseph had never 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 185 
 
 received such services from Jacob as you have receiv- 
 ed from Washington. But we call you not to weep 
 for Washington. We ask you not to view those eyes, 
 now sunk hollow, which formerly darted their light- 
 ning flashes against your enemies — nor to feel that 
 heart, now faintly laboring, which so often throbbed 
 with more than mortal joys when he saw his young 
 countrymen charging like lions, upon the foes of 
 liberty. No ! we call you not to weep, but to rejoice. 
 Washington, who so often conquered himself, is now 
 about to conquer the last enemy. 
 
 Silent and sad his physicians sat by his bedside, 
 looking on him as he lay panting for breath. They 
 thought on the past, and the tear swelled in their 
 eyes. He marked it, and, stretching out his hand to 
 them, and shaking his head, said, " no ! don't ! 
 don't !" then with a delightful smile added, " I am 
 dying, gentlemen ! but, thank God, I am not afraid 
 to die." 
 
 Feeling that the hour of his departure out of this 
 world was at hand, he desired that every body would 
 quit the room. They all went out ; and, according 
 to his wish, left him — with his God. 
 
 There, by himself, like Moses alone on the top of 
 Pisgah, he seeks the face of God. . There, by him- 
 self, standing as on the awful boundary that divides 
 time from eternity, that separates this world from the 
 next, he cannot quit the long frequented haunts of 
 the one, nor launch away into the untried regions of 
 the other, until (in humble imitation of the world's 
 great Redeemer,) he has poured forth, into the bosom 
 of his God, those strong sensations which the solem- 
 nity of his situation naturally suggested. 
 
 With what angelic fervor did he adore that 
 Almighty Love, which, though inhabiting the heaven 
 af heavens, deigned to wake his sleeping dust — > 
 framed him so fearfully in the womb — nursed him 
 on a tender mother's breast — watched his helpless 
 nfancy — guarded his heedless youth — preserved him 
 
184 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 from the dominion of his passions — mspired him with 
 the love of virtue — led him safely up to man — and^ 
 from such low beginnings, advanced him to such 
 unparalleled usefulness and glory among men ! 
 These, and ten thousand other precious gifts heaped 
 on him, unasked — many of them long before he had 
 the knowledge to ask — overwhelmed his soul with 
 gratitude unutterable ; exalted to infinite heights hib 
 ideas of eternal love; and bade him without fear 
 resign his departing spirit into the arms of his 
 Redeemer God, whose mercies are over all his 
 works. 
 
 He is now about to leave the great family of man, 
 in which he has so long sojourned ! The yearnings 
 of his soul are over his brethren ! How fervently 
 does he adore that goodness, which enabled him to 
 t)e so serviceable to them! that grace, which preserv- 
 ed him from injuring them by violence or fraud ! 
 How fervently does he pray, that the unsuffering 
 kingdom of God may come, and that the earth may 
 be filled with the richest fruits of righteousness and 
 peace ! 
 
 He is now about to leave his country ! that deal 
 spot which gave him birth — that dear spot for which 
 he has so long watched and prayed, so long toiled 
 and fought ; and whose beloved children he has so 
 often sought to gather, « even as a hen gathereth her 
 chickens under her wings." He sees them now 
 spread abroad like flocks in goodly pastures; Uke 
 favoured Israel in the land of promise. He remem- 
 bers how God, by a mighty hand, and by an out- 
 stretched arm, brought their fathers into this good 
 land, a land flowing with milk and honey ; and 
 blessed them with the blessings of heaven above, and 
 the earth beneath ; with the blessings of liberty and 
 of peace, of religion and of laws, above all other 
 people. He sees that, through the rich mercies of 
 God, they have now the precious opportunity to 
 continue their country the glory of the earth, and a 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 185 
 
 refuge for the poor, and for the persecuted of all 
 lands ! The transporting sight of such a cloud of 
 blessings, impending close over the heads of his 
 countrymen, together with the distressing uncertainty 
 whether they will put forth their hands and enjoy 
 them, shakes the parent soul of Washington with 
 feelings too strong for his dying frame r The last 
 tear that he is ever to shed, now steals into his eye 
 — the last groan that he is ever to heave, is about to 
 issue from his faintly labouring heart. 
 
 Feeling that the silver cord of life is loosing, and 
 that his spirit is ready to quit her old companion, the 
 body, he extends himself on his bed — closes his eyes 
 for the last time with his own hands — folds his arms 
 decently on his breast, then breathing out " Father 
 of mercies, take me to thyself," — he fell asleep. 
 
 Swift on angel's wings the brightening saint 
 ascended; while voices more than human were 
 warbling through the happy regions, and hymning 
 the great procession towards the gates of heaven. 
 His glorious coming was seen afar olf; and myriads 
 of mighty angels hastened forth, with golden harps, 
 to welcome the honoured stranger. High in front ot 
 the shouting hosts, were seen the beauteous forms ot 
 Franklin, Warren, Mercer, Scammel, and of him v/ho 
 fell at Quebec, with all the virtuous patriots, who, 
 on the side of Columbia, toiled or bled for liberty and 
 truth. But oh ! how changed from what they were, 
 when, in their days of flesh, bathed in sweat and 
 blood, they fell at the parent feet of their weeping 
 country ! Not the homeliest infant suddenly spring- 
 ing into a soul-enchanting Hebe — not dreary wintei 
 suddenly brightening into spring, with all her bloom 
 and fragrance, ravishing the senses, could equal such 
 a glorious change. Oh ! where are now their 
 wrinkles and grey hairs ? Where their ghastly 
 wounds and ciotted blood ? Their forms are of the 
 stature of angels — their robes like morning clouds 
 streaked with gold — the stars of heaven, like crowns 
 
 1^* 15* 
 
186 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 glitter on their heads — immortal youth, celestial rosy 
 red, sits blooming on their cheeks, while infinite 
 benignity and love beam from their eyes. Such 
 were tbe forms of thy sons, Columbia ! such the 
 brother band of thy martyred saints, that now pour- 
 ed forth from heaven's wide opening gates, to meet 
 thy Washington ; to meet their beloved chief, who, 
 in the days of his mortahty, had led their embattled 
 squadrons to the war. At sight of him, even these 
 blessed spirits seem to feel new raptures, and to look 
 more dazzlingly bright. In joyous throngs they pour 
 around him — they devour him with their eyes of love 
 — they embrace him in transports of tenderness un- 
 utterable ; while from their roseate cheeks, tears of 
 joy, such as angels weep, roll down. 
 
 All that followed was too much for the over- 
 dazzled eye of imagination. She was seen to return, 
 with the quick panting bosom and looks entranced 
 of a fond mother, near swooning at sudden sight of a 
 dear loved son, deemed lost, but now found, and 
 raised to kingly honours ! She was heard passion 
 ately to exclaim, with palms and eyes lifted to 
 heaven, " 0, who can count the stars of Jacob, or 
 number the fourth part of the blessings of Israel ! — 
 Let me die the death of Washington ! and may my 
 latter end be like his V 
 
 Let us now return to all that remained of Wash- 
 mgton on earth. He had expressly ordered in his 
 will, that he should be buried in a private manner, 
 and without any parade. But this was impossible ; 
 for who could stay at home when it was said, " To- 
 day General Washington is to be buried !'* On the 
 morning of the ISth, which was fixed on for his 
 funeral, the people poured in by thousands to pay 
 him the last respect, and, as they said, to take their 
 last look. And, while they looked on him, nature 
 stirred that at their hearts, which quickly brought the 
 best blood into their cheeks, and rolled down the 
 tears from their eyes. About two o'clock they bore 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 187 
 
 him to his long home, and buried him in his own 
 family vault, near the banks of the great Potomac. 
 And to this day, often as the ships of war pass that 
 way, they waken up the thunder of their loudest 
 guns, pointed to the spot, as if to tell the sleeping 
 hero, that he is not forgotten in his narrow dwelling. 
 
 The news of his death soon reached Philadelphia, 
 where Congress was then in session. A question of 
 importance being on the carpet that day, the house, 
 as usual, was much interested. But soon as it was 
 announced — " General Washington is dead" — an 
 instant stop was put to all business— the tongue of 
 the orator was struck dumb — and a midnight silence 
 ensued, save when it was interrupted by deepest 
 sighs of the members, as, with drooping foreheads 
 rested on their palms, they sat, each absorbed in 
 mournful cogitation. Presently, as utterly unfit for 
 business, both houses adjourned ; and the members 
 retired slow and sad to their lodgings, like men who 
 had suddenly heard of the death of a father. 
 
 For several days hardly any thing was done in 
 Congress; hardly any thing thought of but to talk of 
 and to praise the departed Washington. In this 
 patriotic work all parties joined with equal alacrity 
 and earnestness. In this all were federalists, all 
 were republicans. Elegant addresses were exchang- 
 ed betv/een the two houses of Congress and the 
 President, and all of them replete with genius and 
 gratitude. 
 
 Then, by unanimous consent, Congiess came to 
 the following resolutions : 
 l8t. That a grand marble monument should be erected 
 
 at the city of Washington, under which with per 
 
 mission of his lady, the body of the General should 
 
 be deposited. 
 9d. That there should be a funeral procession from 
 
 congress hall to the German Lutheran church, to 
 
 hear an oration delivered by one of the members 
 
 s>f congress. 
 
188 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 Sd. That the members of congress should wear full 
 
 mourning during the session. 
 4th. That it should be recommended to the people oi 
 
 the Unit^'d States to wear crape on the left arm, as 
 
 mourning, for thirty days. 
 
 But, thank God, the people of the United States 
 needed not the hint contained in the last resolution. 
 Though they could not all very elegantly speak, yet 
 their actions showed that they all very deeply felt 
 what they owed to Washington. For, in every city, 
 village, and hamlet, the people were so struck on 
 hearing of his death, that long before they heard of 
 the resolution of congress, they ran together to ease 
 their troubled minds in talking and hearing talk of 
 Washington, and to devise some public mode of tes- 
 tifying their sorrow for his death. Every where 
 throughout the continent, churches and court houses 
 were hung in black, mourning was put on, proces- 
 sions were made, and sermons preached, while the 
 crowded houses listened with pleasure to the praises 
 of Washington, or sighed and wept when they heard 
 of his toils and battles for his country. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 CHARACTER OP WASHINGTON, 
 
 Let the poor witling argue all he can 
 It is religion still that makes the man. 
 
 When the children of years to come, hearing his 
 great name re-echoed from every lip, shall say to 
 their fathers, " What was it that raised Washington 
 to such a height of glory .?" let them be told tiiat it 
 
 was HIS GREAT TALENTS, CONSTANTLY GUIDED AND 
 
 GUARDED BY RELIGION. For liovv sl: all mau, fraiJ 
 man, prone to inglorious ease and pleasure, evei 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 189 
 
 ascend the arduous steps of virtue, unless animated 
 by the mighty hopes of religion ? Or what shall stop 
 him in his swift descent to infamy and vice, if un- 
 awed by that dread power, which proclaims to the 
 guilty that their secret crimes are seen, and shall not 
 go unpunished ? Hence, the wise, in all ages, have 
 pronounced, that " there never was a truly great man 
 without religion." 
 
 There have, indeed, been courageous generals, 
 and cunning statesmen, without religion, but mere 
 courage or cunning, however transcendent, never yet 
 made a great man. 
 
 •* Admit that this can conquer, that can cheat 
 'Tis phrase absurd, to call a villain great ! 
 Who wickedly is wise, or madly brave, 
 Is but the more a fool, the more a knave." 
 
 No ! to be truly great, a man must have not only 
 great talents, but those talents must be constantly 
 exerted on great, i. e. good actions — and perseveringly 
 loo — for if he should turn aside to vice — farewell to 
 his heroism. Hence, when Epaminondas was asked 
 which was the greatest man, himself or Pelopidas ? 
 he replied, " wait till we are dead :" meaning that 
 the all of heroism depends on perseverance in great 
 and good actions. But sensual and grovelUng as 
 man is, what can incline and elevate him to those 
 things like religion, that divine power, to whom alone 
 it belongs to present those vast and eternal goods and 
 ills which best alarm our fears, enrapture our hopes, 
 inflame the worthiest loves, rouse the truest avarice, 
 and in short, touch every spring and passion of our 
 «souls in favour of virtue and noble actions. 
 
 Did SHAME restrain Alcibiades from a base action 
 m the presence of Socrates ? " Behold," says Religion, 
 « a greater than Socrates is here !" 
 
 Bid LOVE embolden Jacob to brave fourteen years 
 of slavery for an earthly beauty ? Religion springs 
 that eternal love, for whose sake good men can even 
 «^l()rv in laborious duties. 
 
190 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 Did the ambition of a civic crown animate Scipio 
 to heroic deeds ? Religion holds a crown, at the sight 
 of which the laurels of a Caesar droop to weeds. 
 
 Did avarice urge Cortez through a thousand toils 
 and dangers for wealth ? Religion points to those 
 treasures in heaven, compared to which all diamond 
 beds and mines of massy gold are but trash. 
 
 Did good Aurelius study the happiness of his sub 
 jects for this world's glory ? Religion displays that 
 wor.'d of glory, where those who have laboured to 
 make others happy, shall " shine like stars for ever 
 and for ever." 
 
 Does the fear of death deter man from horrid 
 crimes ? Religion adds infinite horrors to that fear — 
 it warns them of death both of soul and body in hell. 
 
 In short, what motives under heaven can restrain 
 men from vices and crimes, and urge them on, full 
 stretch, after individual and national happiness, like 
 those of religion ? For lack of these motives, alas ! 
 how many who once dazzled the world with the glare 
 of their exploits, are now eclipsed and set to rise no 
 more ! 
 
 There was Arnold, who, in courage and military 
 talents, glittered in the same firmament with Wash- 
 mgton, and, for a while, his face shone like the star 
 of the morning ; but alas I for lack of Washington's 
 religion, he soon fell, like Lucifer, from a heaven of 
 glory, into an abyss of never ending infamy. 
 
 And there was general Charles Lee, too, confessed- 
 ly a great wit, a great scholar, a great soldier, but, 
 after all, not a great man. For, through lack of that 
 magnanimous benevolence which religioix inspires, 
 he fell into the vile state of envy : and, on the plains 
 of Monmouth, rather than fight to immortalize Wash- 
 ington, he chose to retreat and disgrace himself 
 
 There was the gallant general Hamilton also — a 
 gigantic genius — a statesman fit to rule the mightiest 
 monarchy — a soldier " fit to stand by Washington and 
 give command." But alas ! for lack of religion, se<? 
 
LIFF OF WASHINGTON. 191 
 
 now all was lost ! preferring the praise of man to thai 
 praise " which cometh from God," and pursuing the 
 phantom honour up to the pistol's mouth, he is cut 
 off at once from life and greatness, and leaves his 
 family and country to mourn his hapless fate. 
 
 And there was the fascinating colonel Burr, a man 
 born to be great — brave as Caesar, polished as Ches- 
 terfield, eloquent as Cicero. Lifted by the strong 
 arm of his country, he rose fast, and bade fair soon 
 to fill the place where Washington had sat. But alas ! 
 lacking religion, he could not wait the spontaneous 
 fall of the rich honors ripening over his head, but in 
 an evil hour stretched forth his hand to the forbidden 
 fruit, and by that fatal act was cast out from the 
 Eden of our republic, and amerced of greatness for 
 ever. 
 
 But why should I summon the Arnoids and Lees, 
 the Hamiitons and Burrs of the earth, to give sad 
 evidence, that no valour, no genius alone can make 
 men great ? Do we not daily meet with instances, of 
 youth amiable and promising as their fond parents' 
 wishes, who yet, merely for lack of religion, soon 
 make shipwreck of every precious hope, sacrificing 
 their gold to gamblers, their health to harlots, and 
 their glory to grog — making conscience their curse, 
 this life a purgatory, and the next a hell ! In fact, a 
 young man, though of the finest talents and educa- 
 tion, without religion, is but like a gorgeous ship 
 without ballast. Highly painted, and with flowing 
 canvass, she launches out on the deep ; and during a 
 smooth sea and gentle breeze, she moves along state- 
 ly as the pride of the ocean ; but as soon as the stormy 
 winds descend, and the blackening billows begin to 
 roll, suddenly she is overset, and disappears for ever. 
 But who is this coming thus gloriously along, with 
 masts towering to heaven, and his sails white, loom- 
 ing like the mountain of snows ? Who is it but 
 »< Columbia's first and greatest son !" whose talents, 
 ike the sails of a mighty ship, spread far and wide, 
 
1£2 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 catching the gales of heaven, while his capacious 
 soul, stored with the rich ballast of religion, remains 
 firm and unshaken as the ponderous rock. The 
 warm zephyrs of prosperity breathe meltingly upon 
 him — the rough storms of adversity descend — the big 
 billows of affliction dash : but nothing can move him. 
 His eye is fixed on God ! the present joys of an ap- 
 proving conscience, and the hope of that glory which 
 fadeth not away— these comfort and support him. 
 
 " There exists," says Washington, " in the economy 
 of nature, an inseparable connexion between duty and 
 advantage," — the whole iife of this great man bears 
 glorious witness to the truth of this his favorite apho- 
 rism. At the giddy age of fourteen, when the spirits 
 of youth are all on tiptoe for freedom and adventures, 
 he felt a strong desire to go to sea : but, very opposite 
 to his wishes, his mother declared that she could not 
 bear to part with him. His trial must have been 
 very severe ; for I have been told that a midshipman's 
 commission was actually in his pocket — his trunk of 
 clothes on board the ship — his honour in some sort 
 pledged — his young companions importunate with 
 him to go — and his whole soul panting for the pro- 
 mised pleasures of the voyage. But religion whisper- 
 ed «' honour thy mother, and grieve not the spirit of 
 her who bore thee." 
 
 Instantly the glorious boy sacrificed inclination tt 
 duty — dropt all thought of the voyage — and gave 
 tears of joy to his widowed mother, in clasping to 
 her bosom a dear child who could deny himself his 
 fondest wishes to make her happy. 
 
 'Tis said, that when he saw the last boat going on 
 board, with several of his youthful friends in it — 
 when he saw the flash, and heard the report of the 
 signal gun for sailing, and the ship in all her pride 
 of canvass rounding off for sea, he could not bear it ] 
 but turned away ; and half choked with grief, went 
 into the room where his mother sat. " George, my 
 dear !" said she. " have you already repented that you 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 193 
 
 made yonr mother so happy just now ?" Upon this, 
 faUing on her bosom, with his arms around her neck, 
 and a gush of tears, he said : " my dear mother, I 
 must not deny that I am sorry. But, indeed, I feel 
 that I should be much more sorry, were 1 on board 
 the ship, and knew that you were unhappy." 
 
 " Well," repliedshe,embracing him tenderly," God, 
 I hope, will reward my dear boy for this, some day 
 or other." Now see here, young reader ; and learn 
 that HE who prescribes our duty, is able to reward it. 
 Had George left his fond mother to a broken heart, 
 and gone off to sea, 'tis next to certain that he would 
 never have taken that active part in the French and 
 Indian war, which, by securing him the hearts of his 
 countrymen, paved the way for all his future great- 
 ness. 
 
 Now for another instance of the wonderful effect 
 of religion on Washington's fortune. Shortly after 
 returning from the war of Cuba, Lawrence (his half 
 brother) was taken with the consumption, which 
 made him so excessively fretful, that his own brother 
 Augustin would seldom come near him. But George, 
 whose heart was early under the softening and sweet- 
 ening influences of religion, felt such a tenderness for 
 his poor sick brother, that he not only submitted to 
 his peevishness, but seemed, from what I have been 
 told, never so happy as when he was with him. He 
 accompanied him to the Island of Bermuda, in quest 
 of health — and, after their return to Mount Vernon, 
 as often as his duty to lord Fairfax permitted, he 
 would come down from the back woods to see him. 
 And, while with him, he was always contriving or 
 doing something to cheer and comfort his brother. 
 Sometimes with his gun he would go out in quest of 
 partridges and snipes, and other fine-flavored game, 
 *o tempt his brother's sickly appetite, and gain him 
 strength. At other times he would sit for hours anu 
 read to him some entertaining book : and, when his 
 cough came on, he would support his drooping head, 
 
 17 10 
 
1&4 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 and wipe the cold dew from his forehead^ or tl e 
 phlegm from his lips, and give him his medicine, oi 
 smooth his pillow, and all with such alacrity and 
 artless tenderness as proved the sweetest cordial to 
 his brother's spirits. For he was often heard to say 
 to the Fairfax family, into which he married, that «he 
 should think nothing of his sickness, if he could but 
 always have his brother George with him." Well, 
 what was the consequence ? Why, when Lawrence 
 was dying, he left almost the whole of his large estate 
 to George, which served as another noble step to his 
 future greatness. 
 
 For further proof of " the inseparable connexion 
 between duty and advantage," let us look at Wash- 
 ington's conduct through the French and Indian war. 
 To a man of his uncommon military mind, and skill 
 hi tlie arts of Indian warfare, the pride and precipi- 
 tance of general Braddock must have been excessive- 
 ly disgusting and disheartening. But we hear nothing 
 of his threatening either to leave or supplant Brad- 
 dock. On the contrary, he nobly brooked his rude 
 manners ; gallantly obeyed his rash orders ; and, as 
 far as in him lay, endeavoured to correct their fatal 
 tendencies. 
 
 And, after the death of Braddock, and the desertion 
 of Dunbar, that weak old man, governor Dinwiddle, 
 added infinitely to his hardships and hazards, by 
 appointing him to the defence of the frontiers, and 
 yet withholding the necessary forces and supplies. 
 But though by that means the western country was 
 continually overrun by the enemy, and cruelly de- 
 luge in blood — though much wearied in body by 
 marchings and watchings, and worse tortured in soul, 
 by the murders and desolations of the inhabitants, 
 he shrinks not from duty — still seeking the smiles of 
 conscience as his greatest good ; and as the sorest 
 evil, dreading its frowns, he bravely maintained his 
 ground, and, after three years of unequalled dangers 
 and difficulties, succeeded. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 195 
 
 Well, what was the consequence ? why it drew 
 upon him, from his admiring countrymen, such an 
 unbounded confidence in his principles and patriotism, 
 as secured him the command of the American armies, 
 m the revolutionary war ! 
 
 And there again the connexion between " duty and 
 advantage," was as gloriously displayed. For though 
 congress was, in legal and political knowledge, an 
 enlightened body, and for patriotism equal to the 
 senate of Republican Rome, yet certainly in military 
 matters they were no more to be compared to him, 
 than those others were to Hannibal. But still, though 
 they were constantly thwarting his counsels, and, in 
 place of good soldiers, sending him raw militia, thus 
 compelling mactivity, or insuring defeat — dragging 
 out the war — dispiriting the nation — and disgracing 
 him, yet we hear from him no gusts of passion — no 
 dark intrigues to supplant congress — and with the 
 help of an idolizing nation and army, to snatch the 
 power from their hands, and make himself king. On 
 the contrary, he continues to treat congress as a vir- 
 tuous son his respected parents. He points out wiser 
 measures, but in defect of their adoption, makes the 
 best use of those they give him, at length, through 
 the mighty blessing of God, established the indepen- 
 dence of his country ; and then went back to his 
 plough. 
 
 Well, what was the consequence ? Why, these 
 noble acts so completely filled up the measure of his 
 country's love for him, as to give him that first of all 
 felicities, the felicity to be regarded as the guardian 
 angel of his country, and to be able, by the magic ot 
 his name, to scatter every cloud of danger that 
 gathered ot^er her head. 
 
 For example, at the close of the war, when the 
 army, about to be disbanded without their wages, 
 were wrought up to such a pitch of discontent and 
 rage, as seriously to threaten civil war, see the won- 
 ieiful influence which their love for him gave Iiim 
 
im LlFh OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 over themselves ! In the height of their passion, and 
 that a very natural passion too, he merely makes a 
 short speech to them, and the storm is laid ! the tu- 
 mult subsides ! and the soldiers, after all their hard- 
 ships, consent to ground their arms, and return home 
 without a penny in their pockets ! ! ! 
 
 Also, in that very alarming dispute between Ver- 
 mont and Pennsylvania, when the furious parties, in 
 spite of all the efforts of congress and their governors, 
 had actually shouldered their guns, and were drag- 
 ging on their cannon for a bloody fight — Washington 
 only gave them a few lines of his advice, and they 
 instantly faced about for their homes ; and laying by 
 tlieir weapons, seized their ploughs again, like dutiful 
 children, on whose kindling passions a beloved father 
 had shaken his hoary locks ! ! 
 
 And, in the western counties of Pennsylvania, 
 where certain blind patriots affecting to strain at the 
 gnat of a small excise, but ready enough to swallow 
 the infernal camel of rebellion, had kindled the flames 
 of civil war, and thrown the whole nation into a 
 tremor, Washington had just to send around a circu- 
 lar to the people of the union, stating the infinite im- 
 portance of maintaining the sacred reign of the laws, 
 and instantly twenty thousand well armed volunteers 
 marched among the insurgents, and, without shedding 
 a drop of blood, extinguished the insurrection. 
 
 In short, it were endless to enumerate the many 
 dire insurrections and bloody wars which were 
 averted from this country by Washington, and all 
 through the divine force of early Religion ! for it was 
 this that enabled him inflexibly to do his duty, by 
 imitating God in his glorious works of wisdom and 
 benevolence ; and all the rest followed as naturally 
 as light follows the sun. 
 
 We have seen, at page 17 of this little work, with 
 what pleasure the youthful Washington hung upon 
 his father's lip, while descanting on the adorable 
 wisdom and benevolent designs of God in all parts 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 197 
 
 of tliis beautiful and harmonious creation. By such 
 lessons in the book of nature, this virtuous youth 
 was easily prepared for the far higher and surer lec- 
 tures of revelation, I mean that blessed gospel which 
 contains the moral philosophy of heaven. There 
 he learnt, that " God is love ;" — and that all he de- 
 sires, wiih respect to men, is to glorify himself in 
 their happiness ; and since virtue is indispensable to 
 that happiness, the infinite and eternal weight of 
 God's attributes must be in favour of virtue, and 
 against vice ; and consequently that God will sooner 
 or later gloriously reward the one, and punish the 
 other. This was the creed of Washington. And 
 lookmg on it as the only basis of human virtue and 
 happiness, he very cordially embraced it himself, 
 and wished for nothing so much as to see all others 
 embrace it. 
 
 I have often been informed by Colonel B. Tem- 
 ple, (of King William County, Virginia,) who was 
 one of his aids in the French and Indian war, that he 
 has frequently known Washington, on the Sabbath, 
 to read scriptures and pray with his regiment, in the 
 absence of the chaplain ; and also that, on sudden and 
 unexpected visits into his marquee, he has, more than 
 once, found him on his knees at his devotions. 
 
 The Reverend Mr. Lee Massey, long a rector of 
 Washington's parish, and from early life his intimate, 
 has frequently assured me, that " he never knew so 
 constant an attendant on church as Washington. 
 And his behaviour in the house of God," added my 
 reverend friend, " was so deeply reverential, that it 
 produced the happiest effects on my congregation ; 
 and greatly assisted me in my moralizing labours. 
 No company ever withheld him from church. 1 
 have often been at Mount Vernon, on the Sabbath 
 morning, when his breakfast table was filled with 
 guesti?. But to him they furnished no pretext for 
 negleciing his God, and losing the satisfaction of 
 setting a good example. For instead of staying at 
 17* 16* 
 
198 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 home, out of false complaisance to them, he used 
 constantly to invite them to accompany him." 
 
 His secretary, Judge Harrison, has frequently been 
 heard to say, that " whenever the general could be 
 spared from camp on the Sabbath, he never failed 
 riding out to some neighbouring church, to join those 
 who were publicly worshipping the great Creator." 
 
 And while he resided in Philadelphia, as president 
 of the United States, his constant and cheertul atten- 
 dance on divine service was such as to convince 
 every reflecting mind, that he deemed no levee so 
 honourable as that of his Almighty Maker ; no plea 
 sures equal to those of devotion ; and no business a 
 sufficient excuse for neglecting his supreme benefactor. 
 
 In the winter of '77, while Washington, with the 
 American army, lay encamped at Valley Forge, a 
 certain good old friend, of the respectable family and 
 name of Potts, if I mistake not, had occasion to pass 
 through the woods near head quarters. Treading in 
 his way along the venerable grove, suddenly he 
 heard the sound of a human voice, which, as he ad- 
 vanced, increased on his ear ; and at length became 
 like the voice of one speaking much in earnest. As 
 he approached the spot with a cautious step, whom 
 should he behold, in a dark natural bower of ancient 
 oaks, but the commander in chief of the American 
 armies on his knees at prayer ! Motionless with sur- 
 prise, friend Potts continued on the place till the 
 general, having ended his devotions, arose ; and, with 
 a countenance of angelic serenity, retired to head- 
 quarters. Friend Potts then went home, and on en- 
 tering his parlour called out to his wife, " Sarah ! my 
 « dear Sarah ! alPs well ! all's well ! George Wash- 
 ington will yet prevail !" 
 
 "What's the matter, Isaac?" replied she, "thee 
 seems moved." 
 
 " Well, if I seem moved, 'tis no more than what J 
 really am. I have this day seen what I nevei 
 expected. Thee knows that I always thought thai 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 199 
 
 the sword and the gospel were utterly inconsistent ^ 
 and that no man could be a soldier and a christian 
 at the same time. But George Washington has this 
 day convinced me of my mistake." 
 
 He then related what he had seen, and concluded 
 with this prophetical remark — " If George Washing- 
 ton be not a man of God, I am greatly deceived — and 
 still more shall I be deceived, if God do not, through 
 him, work out a great salvation for America.'' 
 
 When General Washington was told that the 
 British troops at Lexington, on the memorable 19th 
 of April, 1775, had fired on and killed several of the 
 Americans, he replied," I grieve for the death of my 
 countrymen ; but rejoice that the British are still so 
 determined to keep God on our side," alluding to 
 that noble sentiment which he has since so happily 
 expressed ; viz. " The smiles of Heaven can never 
 be expected on a nation that disregards the eternal 
 rules of order and right, which Heaven itself has or- 
 dained." 
 
 When called by his country in 1775, to lead her 
 free-born sons against the arms of Britain, what 
 charming modesty, what noble self-distrust, what 
 pious confidence in Heaven, appeared in all his an- 
 swers. " My diffidence in my own abilities," says he, 
 was superseded by a confidence in the rectitude of 
 our cause, and the patronage of Heaven.' 
 
 And when called to the presidency by the unani- 
 mous voice of the nation, thanking him for his great 
 services past, with anticipations of equally great to 
 come, his answer deserves approbation. 
 
 " When I contemplate the interposition of Provi- 
 dence, as it was visibly manifested in guiding us 
 through the revolution — in preparing us for the re- 
 ception of a general government- -and in conciliat- 
 ing the good will of the people of America towards 
 one another after its adoption ; I feel myself oppress- 
 ed and almost overwhelmed with a sense of the 
 divine munificence. I feel that nothing is due to my 
 
«00 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 personal agency in all those complicated and v/cn- 
 derful events, except what can simply be attributed 
 to the exertions of an honest zeal for the good of m} 
 country." 
 
 And when he presented himself for the first time 
 before that august body, the Congress of the United 
 States, April 30th, 1789 — when he saw before him 
 the pride of Columbia m her chosen sons, assembled 
 to consult how best to strengthen the chain of love 
 between the states — to preserve friendship and har- 
 mony with foreign powers — to secure the blessings 
 of civil and religious liberty — and to build up our 
 young republic a great and happy people among the 
 nations of the earth — never patriot entered on such 
 important business with fairer hopes, whether we 
 consider the unanimity and confidence of the citizens, 
 or his own abilities and virtues, and those of his 
 fellow-counsellors. 
 
 But all this would not do. Nothing short of the 
 divine friendship could satisfy Washington. Feeling 
 the magnitude, difficulty, and danger of managing 
 such an assemblage of communities and interests; 
 dreading the machinations of bad men, and well 
 knowing the hisufficiency of all second causes, even 
 the best, he piously reminds congress of the wisdom 
 of imploring the benediction of the great first cause, 
 without which he knew that his beloved country 
 would never prosper. 
 
 " It would," says he, " be peculiarly improper to 
 omit, in this first official act, my fervent supplications 
 to that Almighty Being who rules over the universe; 
 who presides in the councils of nations ; and whose 
 providential aids can supply every human defect, that 
 his benediction may consecrate to the liberties and 
 happiness of the people of the United States, a 
 government instituted by themselves for these essen- 
 tial purposes ; and may enable every instrument 
 employed in its administration to execute with 
 success the functions allotted to his charge. In 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 201 
 
 tendering this homage to the great Author of every 
 public and private good, I assure myself that it ex 
 presses your sentiments not less than my own : noi 
 those of my fellow citizens at large less than either. 
 No people can be bound to acknowledge and adore 
 the invisible hand which conducts the affairs of men, 
 more than the people of the United States. Every 
 step, by which they have advanced to the character 
 of an independent nation, seems to have been 
 distinguished by some token of providential agency. 
 These reflections, arising out of the present crisis, 
 have forced themselves too strongly on my mind to 
 be suppressed. You will join with me, I trust, in 
 thinking, that there are none, under the influence of 
 which the proceedings of a new and free government 
 can more auspiciously commence." 
 
 And after having come near to the close of this, 
 the most sensible and virtuous speech ever made to 
 a sensible and virtuous representation of a free 
 people, he adds — " I shall take my present leave ; 
 but not without resorting once more to the benign 
 Parent of the human race in humble supplication, 
 that, since he has been pleased to favour the Ameri- 
 can people with opportunities for deliberating with 
 perfect tranquility, and dispositions for deciding v/ith 
 unparalleled unanimity, on a form of government 
 for the security of their union, and the advancement 
 of their happiness ; so his divine blessings may 
 be equally conspicuous in the enlarged views, 
 the temperate consultations, and the wise measures, 
 on which the success of this government must de- 
 pend." 
 
 In this constant disposition to look for national 
 happiness only in national morals, flowing from the 
 sublime afl"ections and blessed hopes of Religion, 
 Washington egreed with those great legislators ot 
 nations, Moses, Lycurgus, and Numa. " I ask not 
 gold for Spartans," said Lycurgus. "Virtue is better 
 than all go 1." The event showed his wisdom— 
 
202 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 The Spartans were invincible so long as they remain- 
 ed virtuous — even 500 years. 
 
 " I ask not wealth for Israel/' cried Moses. "But 
 that they were wise ! — that they did but fear God 
 and keep his comandments ! The Lord himself 
 would be their sun and shield." The event proved 
 Moses a true prophet. For while they were reli- 
 gious they were unconquerable. " United as bro- 
 thers, swift as eagles, stronger than lions, one could 
 chase a thousand ; and two put ten thousand to 
 flight." 
 
 " Of all the dispositions and habits which lead to 
 the prosperity of a nation," says Washington, 
 " Religion is the indispensable support. Volumes 
 could not trace all its connexions with private and 
 public happiness. Let it simply be asked, where is 
 the security for property, for reputation, for life itself, 
 if there be no fear of God on the minds of those who 
 give their oaths in courts of justice." 
 
 But some will tell us, that human laws are suffi- 
 cient for the purpose ! 
 
 Human laws ! — human nonsense ! For how often, 
 even where the cries and screams of the wretched 
 called aloud for lightning speeded vengeance, have 
 we not seen thje sword of human law loiter in its 
 coward scabbard, afraid of angry royalty ? Did not 
 that vile queen Jezebel, having a mind to compli- 
 ment her husband with a vineyard belonging to poor 
 Naboth, suborn a couple of villians to take a false 
 oath against him ; and then cause him to be dragged 
 out with his little motherless, crying babes, and 
 barbarously stoned to death. 
 
 Great God! what .bloody tragedies have been 
 acted on the poor ones of the earth, by kings and 
 great men, who were above the laws, and had no 
 sense of Religion to keep them in awe ! And if men 
 be not above the laws, yet what horrid crimes! what 
 ruinous robberies ! what wide- wasting havoc! what 
 cruel murders may they not commit in secret, if they 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 203 
 
 be noi withheld by the sacred arm of religion ! "In 
 vain, therefore," says Washington, " would that 
 man claim the tribute of patriotism, who should do 
 any thing to discountenance Religion and morality, 
 those great pillars of human happiness, those firmest 
 props of the duties of men and citizens. The mere 
 politician, equally with the pious man, ought to 
 respect and cherish them." 
 
 But others have said, and with a serious face too, 
 that a sense of honour is sufficient to preserve men 
 from base actions ! blasphemy to sense ! Do we 
 not daily hear of men of honour, by dice and cards^ 
 draining their fellow citizens of the last cent, reduc- 
 ing them to beggary, or driving them to a pistol ? 
 Do we not daily hear of men of honour corrupting 
 their neighbours wives and daughters, and then 
 murdering the husbands and brothers in duels ? 
 Bind such selfish, such inhuman beings, by a sense 
 of honour.' ! why not bind roaring lions with cob- 
 webs? " No," exclaims Washington, "whatever a 
 sense of honour may do on men of refined education, 
 and on minds of a peculiar structure, reason and 
 experience both forbid us to expect that national 
 morality can prevail in exclusion of Religious 
 principles." 
 
 And truly Washington had abundant reason, from 
 his own happy experience, to recommend Religion 
 so heartily to others. 
 
 For besides all those inestimable favours which he 
 received from her at the hands of her celestial daugh- 
 ters, the Virtues; she threw over him her own magic 
 mantle of Character. And it was this that immortal- 
 ized Washington. By inspiring his countrymen 
 with the profoundest veneration for him as the 
 best of men, it naturally smoothed his way to 
 supreme command ; so that when War, that monster 
 of satan, came on roaring against America, with all 
 his death's heads and garments rolled in blood, the 
 natioH unanimously placed Washington at the head 
 
804 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 of their armies, from a natural persuasion that so 
 good a man must be the peculiar favourite of 
 Heaven, and the fastest friend of his country. How 
 far this precious instinct in favour of goodness was 
 correct, or how far Washington's conduct was 
 honourable to Religion and glorious to himself and 
 country, bright ages to come, and happy millions yet 
 unborn, will, we confidently hope, declare to the 
 most distant posterity. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 WASHINGTON'S CHARACTER CONTINUED. 
 
 HIS BENEVOLENCE. 
 
 This only can the bliss bestow 
 Immortal souls should prove ; 
 From one short word all pleasures flow, 
 That blessed word is — Love. . 
 
 If ever man rejoiced in the divine administration, 
 and cordially endeavoured to imitate it by doing 
 good, George Washington was that man. Taught 
 by religion that " God is love,'' he wisely concluded 
 those the most happy who love the most ; and, taught 
 by experience that it is love alone that gives a parti- 
 cipation and interest in others, capacitating us to 
 lejoice with those who rejoice, and to weep with 
 those who weep, he early studied that benevolence 
 which rendered him so singularly the delight of 
 mankind. 
 
 The marquis De Chastellux, who visited him in 
 camp, tells us that " he was astonished and delighted 
 to see the great American living among his officeis 
 and men as a father among his children, who at once 
 revered and loved him with a filial tenderness." 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 205 
 
 Brissot, another famous French traveller, assures 
 us, that " throughout the continent every body spoke 
 of Washington as of a father." 
 
 The dearest and best of all appellations, " The 
 father of his country," was the neutral fruit of that 
 benevolence which he so carefully cultivated through 
 life. A singular instance of which we meet with in 
 1754, and the 22nd year of his age. 
 
 He was stationed at Alexandria with his regiment, 
 the only one in the colony, and of which he was co- 
 lonel. There happened at this time to be an election 
 in Alexandria for members of the assembly : and the 
 contest ran high between Colonel George Fairfax, 
 and Mr. Elzey. Washington was the warm friend 
 of Fairfax: and a Mr. Payne headed the friends of 
 Elzey. A dispute happening to take place in the 
 court-house yard, Washington, a thing very uncom- 
 mon with him, became warm ; and, which was still 
 more uncommon, said something that offended 
 Payne ; whereupon the little gentleman, who, though 
 but a cub in size, was the old lion in heart, raised his 
 sturdy hickory, and, at a single blow, brought our 
 hero to the ground. Several of Washington's offi- 
 cers being present, whipped out their cold irons in an 
 instant: and it was believed that there would have 
 been murder off-hand. To make bad worse, his 
 regiment, hearing how he had been treated, bolted 
 out from their barracks, with every man his weapon 
 in his hand, threatening dreadful vengeance on those 
 who had dared to knock down their beloved colonel. 
 Happily for Mr. Paine and his party, Washington 
 recovered, time enough to go out and meet his en- 
 raged soldiers : and, after thanking them for this ex- 
 pression of their love, and assuring them that he 
 was not hurt in the least, he begged them, as they 
 loved him or their duty, to return peaceably to their 
 barracks. As for himself, he went to his room, ge- 
 nerously chastising his imprudence, which had thus 
 struck up a spark that had like to have thrown the 
 18 i7 
 
«06 LIFE OF WASHINGTOxN. 
 
 whole town into a flame. Finding on mature leflec- 
 tion, that he had been the aggressor, he resolved to 
 make Mr. Payne honourable reparation, by asking 
 his pardon on the morrow ! No sooner had he made 
 this noble resolution, than, recovering that delicious 
 gaiety which accompanies good purposes in a virtu 
 ous mind, he went to a bail that night, and behaved 
 as pleasantly as though nothing had happened ! Glo 
 rious proof, that great souls, like great ships, are not 
 affected by those little puffs which would overset fee 
 ble minds with passion, or sink them with spleen ! 
 
 The next day he went to a tavern, and wrote a 
 polite note to Mr. Payne, whom he requested to 
 meet him. Mr. Payne took it for a challenge, and 
 repaired to the tavern, not without expecting to see 
 a pair of pistols produced. But what was his sur- 
 prise on entering the chamber, to see a decanter of 
 wine and glasses on the table ! Washington arose, 
 and in a very friendly manner met him ; and gave 
 him his hand. " Mr. Payne," said he, " to err is 
 nature : to rectify error is glory. I find I was wrong 
 yesterday : but I wish to be right to-day. You have 
 had some satisfaction : and if you think that sufficient, 
 here's my hand ; let us be friends." 
 
 Admirable youth ! Noble speech ! No wonder, 
 since it charms us so, that it had such an effect on 
 Mr. Payne, who from that moment became the most 
 ardent admirer and friend of Washington, and ready 
 at any time, for his sake, to charge up to a battery 
 of two and forty pounders. 
 
 What a lesson for our young countrymen ! Had 
 Washington been one of the race of little men, how 
 sadly different would have been his conduct on this 
 occasion ! Instead of going that night to the ball, and 
 acting the lively agreeable friend, he would, like an 
 angry viper that had been trod on, have retired to 
 his chamber. There he would have found no such 
 ^ntertaiument as Washington had at this ball ; no 
 sprightly music, no delicious wines, no sweetly 
 
LIFE OF \\ ASHINGTON. 207 
 
 smiling friends. On the contrary, all the tortures of 
 a soul brooding over its indignities, until reflection 
 had whipped it up into pangs of rage unutterable^ 
 while all the demons of hell, with blood-stained 
 torches pointing at his bleeding honour, cried out 
 "revenge ! revenge ! revenge V There in his cham- 
 ber, he would have passed the gloomy night prepar- 
 ing his pistols, moulding his bullets, or with furious 
 looks driving them through the body of his enemy 
 chalked on the wall. The next morning would have 
 seen him on the field, and in language lately heard 
 in this state, calling out to his hated antagonist. You 
 have injured me, sir, beyond reconciliation : and by 
 
 ril kill you if I can. While his antagonist, in a 
 
 style equally musical and christian, would have 
 
 rejoined. Kill, and be ! Pop go the pistols — 
 
 down tumbles one of the combatants; while the 
 murderer, with knocking knees and looks of Cain, 
 flies from the avenger of blood ! The murdered man 
 is carried to his house, a ghastly, bloody corpse. 
 Merciful God ! what a scene ensues ! some are stu- 
 pified with horror ! others sink lifeless to the floor ! 
 His tender sisters, wild shrieking with despair, throw 
 themselves on their dead brother and kiss his ice-cold 
 hps ; while his aged parents, crushed under unutter- 
 able woe, go down in their snowy locks broken- 
 hearted to the grave. 
 
 Thus bloody and miserable might have been the 
 end of Washington or of Payne, had Washington 
 been one of those poor deluded young men, who are 
 determined to be great ; and so be brought forward 
 in newspapers, in spite of God or devil. But Wash- 
 ington was not born to exemplify those horrid trage- 
 dies, which cowards create in society by pusillani- 
 mously giving way to their bad passions. No — he 
 was born to teach his countrymen what sweet peace 
 and harmony might for ever smile in the habitations 
 of men, if all had but the courage, like himself, to 
 obey the sacred voice of justice and humanity. By 
 
«08 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 firmly obeying these,he preserved his hands unstained 
 by the blood of a fellow man ; and his soul unhar- 
 rowed by the cruel tooth of never-dying remorse. By 
 firmly obeying these, he preserved a life, which, 
 crowned with deeds of justice and benevolence, has 
 brought more glory to God, more good to man, and 
 more honor to himself, than any life ever spent since 
 the race of man began. 
 
 Sons of Columbia ! would you know what is true 
 courage? see it defined, see it exemplified in this act 
 of your young but great countryman. Never man 
 possessed a more undaunted courage, than Washing- 
 ton. But in him this noble quality was the lifeguard, 
 of his reason, not the assassin ; a ready servant to 
 obey her commands, not a bully to insult them ; a 
 champion to defend his neighbour's rights, not a 
 tyrant to invade them. Transported by sudden pas- 
 sion, to which all are liable, he offended Mr. Payne, 
 who resented it rather too roughly, by knocking him 
 down on the spot. Washington had it in his power 
 to have taken ample revenge : and cowards, who 
 have no command over their passions, would have 
 done it. But duty forbade him : and he had the 
 courage to obey. Reason whisperer! the folly of 
 harbouring black passions in his soul, poisoning his 
 peace. He instantly banished them ; and went to a 
 ball, to drink sweet streams of friendship from the 
 eyes of happy friends. Again reason whispered him, 
 that having been the aggressor, he ought to ask 
 Payne's pardon, and compromise the difference with 
 him. In this also he had the courage to obey her 
 sacred voice. 
 
 In what history, ancient or modern, sacred or pro- 
 fane, can you find, in so young a man, only twenty- 
 two, such an instance of that true heroic valour 
 which combats malignant passions — conquers un 
 reasonable self — rejects the hell of hatred, and invites 
 the heaven of love into our own bosoms, and into 
 those of our brethren with whom we may have 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 209 
 
 qiiarrelbd ? Joseph forgiving his brethren m the land 
 of Egypt ; David sparing that inveterate seeicer of 
 his life, Saul; Sir Walter Raleigh pardoning the 
 young man who spit in his face ; afford, it is true, 
 charming specimens of the subUme and beautiful in 
 action: certainly, such men are worthies of the 
 world, and brightest ornaments of human nature. 
 But yet none of them have gone beyond Washington 
 in the affair of Payne. 
 
 A few years after this, Payne had a cause tried in 
 Fairfax court. Washington happened on that day 
 to be in the house. The lawyer on the other side, 
 finding he was going fast to leeward, thought he 
 would luff up with a whole broadside at Payne's 
 character ; and, after raking him fore and aft with 
 abuse, he artfully bore away under the lee of the 
 jury's prejudices, which he endeavoured to inflame 
 against him. " Yes, please your worships," con- 
 tinued he, " as a proof that this Payne is a most 
 turbulent fellow, and capable of all I tell you, be 
 pleased to remember, gentlemen of the jury, that 
 this is the very man, who some time ago treated 
 our beloved colonel Washmgton so barbarously. 
 Yes, this is the wretch, who dared, in this very 
 court-house yard, to lift up his impious hand against 
 that greatest and best of men, and knocked him dowu 
 as though he had been a bullock of the stalls. 
 
 This, roared in a thundering tone, and with a tre- 
 mendous stamp on the floor, made Payne look very 
 dejected ; for he saw the countenance of the court 
 beginning to blacken on him. But Washington rose 
 immediately, and thus addressed the bench : 
 
 " As to Mr. Payne's character, may it please your 
 worships," said he, " we all have the satisfaction to 
 know that it is perfectly unexceptionable : and with 
 respect to the httle difference which formerly hap- 
 pened between that gentleman and myself, it was 
 instantly made up : and we have lived on the best 
 terms ever since • moreover, I wish all my acquaint- 
 18* 17* 
 
210 LIFE OF WASblNGTON 
 
 ance to know, that I entirely acquit Mr. Payne of 
 blame in tliat affair, and take it all on myself as the 
 aggressor.'* 
 
 Payne used often to relate another anecdote of 
 Washington, which reflects equal honour on the 
 goodness of his heart. 
 
 Immediately after the war," said he, " when the 
 conquering hero was returning in peace to his home, 
 with the laurels of victory green and flourishing on 
 his head, I felt a great desire to see him, and so set 
 out for Mount Vernon. As I drew near the house, 
 I began to experience a rising fear, lest he should 
 call to mind the blow I had given him in former 
 days. However, animating myself, I pushed on. 
 Washington met me at the door with a smiling wel- 
 come, and presently led me into an adjoining room, 
 where Mrs. Washington sat. " Here, my dear,'' 
 said he, prsenting me to his lady, " here is the little 
 man you have so often heard me talk of; and who, 
 on a diflerence between us one day, had the resolu- 
 tion, to knock me down, big as I am. I know you 
 will honour him as he deserves ; for I assure you he 
 has the heart of a true Virginian." " He said this," 
 continued Mr. Payne, " with an air which convinced 
 me that his long familiarity with war had not robbed 
 him of a single spark of the goodness and nobleness of 
 his heart. And Mrs. Washington looked at him, I 
 thought, with a something in her eyes, which showed 
 that he appeared to her greater and lovelier than 
 ever." 
 
 A good tree, saith the divine teacher, bringeth forth 
 good fruit. No wonder then that we meet with so 
 many and such delicious fruits of charity in Wash- 
 mgton, whose soul was so rich in benevolence. 
 
 In consequence of his wealth and large landed 
 
 possessions, he had visits innumerable from the poor. 
 
 Knowing the great value of time and of good tempers 
 
 to them, he could not bear that they should lose 
 
 ither, by long waiting and shuflling, and blowing 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 211 
 
 their fingers at his door. He had a room set apan 
 for the reception of such poor persons as had business 
 with him: and the porter had orders to conduct tliem 
 into it, and to inform him immediately. And so 
 affectionately attentive was he to them, that if he 
 was in company with the greatest characters on the 
 continent, when his servant informed him that a poor 
 man wished to speak to him, he would instantly beg 
 them to excuse him for a moment, and go and wait 
 on him. 
 
 Washington's conduct showed that he disliked 
 another practice, too common among some great men, 
 who, not having the power to say, yes, nor the heart 
 to say no, to a poor man, are fain to put him off with 
 a " come again ; come again ," and thus trot him 
 backwards and forwards, wasting his time, wearing 
 out his patience and shoes, and after all give liim the 
 mortification of a disappointment. 
 
 Washington could not be guilty of such cruel 
 kindness. If he could not oblige a poor applicant, 
 he would candidly tell him so at once : but then the 
 goodness of his heart painted his regret so sensibly 
 on his countenance, that even his refusals m^de him 
 friends. 
 
 A poor Irishman, wanting a small farm, and hear- 
 ing that Washington had one to rent, waited on him. 
 Washington told him that he was sincerely sorry that 
 he could not assist him ; for he had just disposed of 
 it. The poor man took his leave, but not without 
 returning him a thousand thanks ! Ah, do you thank 
 me so heartily for a refusal ! " Yes, upon my shoul, 
 now plase your excellency's honour, and I do thank 
 you a thousand times. For many a great man would 
 have kept me waiting like a black negro. But your 
 excellency's honour has told me straight off hand 
 that you are sorry and God bless you for it, that you 
 <:an't help me — and so your honour has done my 
 tusiness for me, in no time, and less." 
 
 The Potomac abounds with the finest herrings \n 
 
210 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 the world, which, when sahed, furnish not only to 
 the wealthy a charming relish for their tea and coffee, 
 but also to the poor a delicious substitute for bacon. 
 But, fond as they are of this small boned bacon, as 
 they call it, many of them have not the means to 
 procure it. Washington's heart felt for these poor 
 people ; and provided a remedy. He ordered a seine 
 and a batteau to be kept on one of the best fishing 
 shores, on purpose for the poor. If the batteau were 
 lost, or the seine spoilt, which was often the case, he 
 had them replaced with new ones immediately. And 
 if the poor who came for fish were too weak handed 
 to haul the seine themselves, they needed but to ap- 
 ply to the overseer, who had orders from Washing- 
 ton to send hands to help them. Thus all the poor 
 had it in their power to come down in the season, 
 and catch the finest fish for themselves and their 
 families. In what silver floods were ever yet caught 
 the herrings, which could have given to Washington 
 what he tasted, on seeing the poor driving away 
 from his shores, with carts laden with delicious fish, 
 and carrying home, whooping and singing to their 
 smiling wives and children, the rich prize, a whole 
 year's plenty. 
 
 In all his charities, he discovered great judgment 
 and care in selecting proper objects. Character was 
 the main chance. Mount Vernon had no charms for 
 lazy, drunken, worthless beggars. Persons of that 
 description knew very well that they must take their 
 application elsewhere. He never failed to remind 
 them of the great crime of robbing the public of their 
 services, and also the exceeding cruelty and injustice 
 of snapping up from the really indigent, what little 
 charity bread was stirring. But if the character 
 were good — if the poor petitioner were a sober, 
 honest, and industrious person, whom Providence 
 had by sickness or losses reduced to want — he found 
 a brother in Washington. It is incredible what 
 quantities of wool, corn, bacon, flour, clothes, &c. 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 213 
 
 were annually distributed to the poor, from the 
 almost exhaustless heap, which the blessings of Hea- 
 ven bestowed on this, its industrious and faithful 
 steward. 
 
 " I had orders," said Mr. Peake, a sensible, honest 
 manager of one of Washington's plantations, to fill a 
 corn-house every year, for the sole use of the poor 
 in my neighbourhood ! to whom it was a most sea- 
 sonable and precious relief; saving numbers of poor 
 women and children from miserable famine, and 
 blessing them with a cheerful plenteousness of bread." 
 
 Mr. Lund Washington, long a manager of his 
 Mount Vernon estate, had similar orders. One year 
 when corn was so dear (a dollar per bushel) that 
 numbers of the poor were on the point of starving, 
 Mr. L. Washington, by order of the general, not 
 only gave away all that could be spared from the 
 granaries, but bought at that dear rate, several hun- 
 dred bushels for tliem ! 
 
 Anecdote of Washington, — The town of Alexan- 
 dria, which now flourishes like a green bay tree, on 
 the waters of the Potomac, was, 50 years ago, but a 
 small village. But though small, it was lovely. Sit- 
 uated on the fine plain which banks the western 
 margin of the river, and with snow white domes 
 glistening through the trees that shook their green 
 heads over the silver flood, it formed a view highly 
 romantic and beautiful. Hence the name of the 
 place at first was Bellhaven. But, with all the beau- 
 ties to the eye, Bellhaven had no charms for the pal- 
 ate. Not that the neighbourhood of Bellhaven was 
 a desert ; on the contrary, it was, in many places, a 
 garden spot abounding with luxuries. But its inhab- 
 itants, though wealttiy, were not wise. By the 
 successful culture of tobacco they had made money. 
 \nd having filled their coach-houses with gilt car- 
 nages, and their dining rooms with gilt glasses, they 
 oegan to look down on the poorer sort, and to talk 
 about families. Of course it would never do fcr such 
 
«H LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 great people to run market carts ! ! Hence the poor 
 Bellhavenites, though embosomed in plenty were 
 often in danger of gnawing their nails ; and unless 
 they could cater a lamb from some goodnatured 
 peasant, or a leash of chickens from the Sunday 
 negroes, were obliged to sit down with long faces to 
 a half-graced dinner of salt meat and Johnny cake. 
 This was the order of the day, A. D. '59, when 
 Washington, just married to the wealthy young Mrs. 
 Custis, had settled at Mount Vernon, nine miles 
 below Bellhaven. The unpleasant situation of the 
 families at that place soon reached his ear. To a 
 man of his character, with too much spirit to follow 
 a bad example, when he had the power to set a goo . 
 one, and too much wit to look for happiness any 
 where but in his own bosom, it could not long be 
 questionable what part he had to act. A market 
 cart was instantly constructed ; and regularly, three 
 times a week, sent oif to Bellhaven, filled with nice 
 roasters, kidney covered lamb and veal, green geese, 
 fat ducks, chickens by the basket, fresh butter, new 
 laid eggs, vegetables, and fruit of all sorts. Country 
 gentlemen, dining with their friends in town, very 
 soon marked the welcome change of diet. " Bless 
 us all !" exclaimed they, " what's the meamng of 
 this ? you invited us to family fare, and here you've 
 given us a lord mayor's feast." " Yes," replied the 
 others, " thank God for sending Colonel Washington 
 into our neighbourhood." Thus, it was discovered, 
 to the extreme mortification of some of the little great 
 ones, that Colonel Washington should ever have run 
 i market cart! ! But the better sort, who generally, 
 thank God, have sense enough to be led right, pro- 
 vided they can get a leader, soon fell into the track : 
 and market carts were soon seen travelling in abun- 
 dance to town with every delicacy of the animal and 
 vegetable republics. 
 
 Thus the hungry wall wliich pride had raised 
 against Bellhaven was happily demolished A flood 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 215 
 
 tide of blessings rolled in from the neighbouring 
 country. The hearts of the merchants felt a fresh 
 pulse of love for their brothers, the farmers : and 
 even the little children, with cheeks red as the apples 
 they seized, were taught to lisp the praises of God. 
 And all this, reader, through the active benevolence 
 of one man. 
 
 The following anecdote was related to me by his 
 excellency Governor Johnson (Maryland,) one of the 
 few surviving heroes of '76. 
 
 " You seem, sir," said he addressing himself to me, 
 " very fond of collecting anecdotes of Gen. Washing- 
 ton. Well, I'll tell you one, to which you may 
 attach the most entire faith ; for I have heard it a 
 dozen times and oftener, from the lips of a very 
 valuable man and a magistrate, in Conostoga, a Mr. 
 Conrad Hogmyer." " Just before the revolutionary 
 war," said Mr. Hogmyer, " I took a trip for my 
 health's sake to the Sweet Springs of Virginia, where 
 I found a world of people collected ; some, like me, 
 looking for health, others for pleasure. In conse- 
 quence of the crowd, I was at first rather hard run 
 for lodgings ; but at length was lucky enough to get 
 a mattrass in the hut of a very honest baker of my 
 acquaintance, who often visited the springs for the 
 benefit of his oven. Being the only man of the trade 
 on the turf, and well skilled in the science of dough, 
 ne met with no small encouragement : and it was 
 really a subject of surprize to see the heaps of English 
 loaves, Indian pones, French bricks, cakes, and 
 crackers, which lay piled on his counter every 
 morning. I often amused myself in marking the 
 various airs and manners of the different waiters, 
 who, in gay liveries and shining faces, came every 
 morning, rattling down their silver, and tripping 
 away with their bread by the basket. Among those 
 gay looking sons and daughters of Africa, 1 saw 
 every now and then, a poor Lazarite, with sallow 
 cheek and hollow eye, slowly creeping to the do^r, 
 and at a nod from the baker, eagerly seize a fine loaf 
 
21(y J.lFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 and bear it off without depositing a cent. Surely, 
 thought I to myself, this baker must be the best man, 
 or the greatest fool in the world. But fearing that 
 this latter cap best fitted his pericranium, I one 
 morning could not help breaking my mind to him, foi 
 crediting his bread to such very unpromising dealers. 
 " Stophei," for that was his name, " you seem/' said 
 I, " to sell a world of bread here every day ; but, 
 notwithstanding that, I fear you don't gain much by 
 it." 
 
 " No ! 'squire ? What makes you think so?" 
 " You credit too much, Stophel." 
 " Not I indeed, sir, not I. I don't credit a penny." 
 " Ay ! how do you make that out, Stophel, don't 
 I see the poor people everyday carrying away your 
 bread, and yet paying you nothing ?" 
 
 " Pshaw, no matter for that, 'squire. They'll pay 
 me all in a lump at last." 
 
 "At last ! At last ! Oh ho, at the last day, I suppose 
 you mean, Stophel; when you have the conscience 
 to expect that God Almighty will stand paymaster 
 and wipe off all your old scores for you, at a dash." 
 
 " Oh no ! 'squire, we poor bakers can't give such 
 'ong credit ! but I'll tell you how we work the 
 matter. The good man Colonel George Washing- 
 ton is here. Every season as soon as he comes, he 
 calls and says to me, < Stophel, you seem to have a 
 great deal of company ; and some, I fear, who don't 
 come here for pleasure, and yet, you know, they 
 can't do without eating. Though pale and sickly, 
 they must have bread. But it will never do to make 
 them pay for it. Poor creatures ! they seem already 
 low spirited enough through sickness and poverty. 
 Their spirits must not be sunk lower by taking from 
 them every day what little money they have pinch- 
 ed from their poor families at home. I'll tell you 
 what's to be done, Stophel. You must give each of 
 them a good hot loaf every morning; and charge it 
 to me. When I am going away, I'll pay you a*l ' 
 
UFE OF WASHINGTON. 217 
 
 And believe me, 'squire, he has often, at the end o( 
 the season, paid me as much as SO dollars, and that 
 too for poor creatiu-es who did not know the hand 
 that fed them ; for I had strict orders from him not 
 to mention a syllable of it to any body." 
 
 But though so ifind to the bodies, Washington was 
 still more kind and costly in his charities to the minds 
 of the poor. Sensible that a republican government, 
 that is, a government of the people, can never long 
 subsist where the minds of the people are not 
 enlightened, he earnestly recommended it to the 
 citizens of the United States, to promote, as an object 
 of primary importance, institutions for the general 
 diffusion of knowledge. In this, as indeed in all othei 
 cases where any thing great or good was to be done, 
 Washington led the way. 
 
 He established a charity school in Alexandria, 
 and endowed it with a donation of four thousand 
 dollars. The interest was regularly paid and ex- 
 pended on the education of fifteen boys. My young 
 friend, the reverend Mr. Wiley, who, for talents, 
 taste, and classical erudition, has few superiors in 
 America, was educated by Washington. 
 
 In 1785, the assembly of his native state, Virginia, 
 "desirous to embrace," as they said, "every suitable 
 occasion of testifying their sense of the unexampled 
 merits of George Washington, Esq.," presented him 
 with fifty shares in the Potomac, and one hundred 
 shares in the James River Navigation Company, 
 making, in the whole, the important sum of ten 
 thousand pounds sterling ! 
 
 Of this public act, they requested the governor to 
 transmit Washington a copy. In answer he address- 
 ed a letter to the governor, in which, " I take the 
 hberty," says he, "of returning to the general assem- 
 bly, through your hands, the profound and grateful 
 acknowledgments inspired by so signal a mark of 
 their beneficent intentions towards me." 
 
 He g-oes on to beg that they would excuse his 
 19 18 
 
818 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 determined resolution not to accept a farthing of it 
 for his own use — « But,'^ continued he, " if it shou.d 
 please the general assembly to permit mo to turn the 
 destination of the fund vested in me, from my private 
 emolument, to objects of a public nature, it shall be 
 my study, in selecting, to prove the sincerity of my 
 gratitude for the honour conferred on me, by prefer- 
 ring such as may appear most subservient to the 
 enlightened and patriotic view of the legislature." 
 
 They were cheerfully submitted to his disposal ; 
 and, according to promise, he appropriated them to 
 works of the greatest utility: viz: his shares in James 
 River canal, to a college in Rockbridge county, near 
 the waters of James River ; and his Potomac shares 
 to a national university, to be erected in the federal 
 district, on the great Potomac. 
 
 How noble and disinterested were his wishes for 
 the good of his country ! As if incapable of being 
 satisfied with all that he had done for her while 
 living, he endeavoured, by founding those noble 
 mstitutions for the diffusion of knowledge and virtue, 
 to make himself her benefactor when he should cease 
 to hve in this sublunary world. 
 
 Since the idea is perfectly correct, that the great 
 Governor of the world must look with peculiar 
 benignity on those of his children who most nearly 
 resemble him in benevolence, may we not uidulge 
 the pleasing hope, that these colleges, founded by 
 such a hand, shall prove the nurseries of the bright- 
 est genius and virtue; and that from their sacred halls 
 will proceed in endless succession, the mighty Wash- 
 ingtons, and Jeffersons, the Franldins and Madisons 
 of future times ! that Columbia may live before 
 God ! and that the bright days of her prosperity may 
 never have an end ! 
 
 Washington's behaviour to the generous Fayette 
 ought never to be forgotten. 
 
 When that glorious young nobleman heard that 
 Lord North had passed against America the decree 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 219 
 
 of slavery ; and that the American farmers witn 
 their rusty tirelo-cks and pitchforks, in front of theii 
 shrieking wives and children, were inch by inch 
 disputing the soil against a hireling soldiery, the tears 
 gushed from his eyes. He tore himself from the arms 
 of the loveliest, fondest of wives ; flew to his sove- 
 reign for permission to fight; turned into powder and 
 arms every iivre that he could raise ; and, in a swift 
 sailing frigate rushing through the waves to America, 
 presented himself before Washington. Washington, 
 received him as his son, and gave him command, 
 Under the eye of that hero he fought and conquered. 
 Having aided to fix the independence of strangers, 
 he hastened back to France, to hberate his own 
 countrymen from the curses of monarchy; and to 
 give them, like America, the blessings of a repuolic. 
 A pupil of the temperate and virtuous Washington, 
 he soon offended the hot headed demagogues of 
 France. Banished from his native country, he was 
 presently thrown, by royal jealousy, into a foreign 
 prison. Most of us here in America, on hearing of 
 his misfortunes, felt the kindly touch of sympathy. 
 But alas ! like those good people hi the parable, we 
 were so taken up with "buying land, trying oxen, 
 or marrying wives," that we forgot our noble friend. 
 But Washington did not forget him. His thoughts 
 were often with him in his gloomy cell. He sent him 
 a present of a thousand guineas — and in a letter to 
 the Emperor of Germany, with equal delicacy and 
 feeling, solicited his discharge, and permission to 
 come to America. The letter concluded with these 
 remarkable words : — '' As it is a maxim with me 
 never to ask what, under similar circumstances, I 
 would not grant, your majesty will do me the justice 
 to believe, that this request appears to me to corres- 
 pond with those great principles of magnanimity 
 and wisdom which form the basis of sound policy 
 and durable glory." 
 
 This letter produced, in part, the desired eff^p.ct 
 
220 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 For immediately after the receipt of it, the marquis 
 experienced a great increase of attention ; and in a 
 short time he was liberated. Such was the respect 
 paid to our American farmer, by one of the greatest 
 monarchs in Europe. 
 
 In 1795, the marquis's son made his escape from 
 France, and arrived at Boston. Soon as Washington 
 heard of it, he sent his parental respects to the youth, 
 and informed him, that, though, from moti/es of 
 tenderness to his mother, who was in the po -ver of 
 the directory, he could not be seen publicly tu notice 
 him, yet he begged to be considered by hin» as his 
 father and protector — advised him to enter as a student 
 in the university near Boston, and to draw on him 
 for whatever moneys he should want. 
 
 Congress, on hearing that a son of the noble mar 
 quis was in America, felt a deep interest in the youth, 
 and ordered an immediate inquiry into his situation, 
 intending generous things for him out of the national 
 treasury. But finding that on this, as on all othei 
 occasions, Washington had done honour to the Ame 
 rican name, they rejoiced exceedingly, and let the 
 matter drop. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 WASHINGTON'S CHARACTER CONCLUDED. 
 
 HIS INDUSTRY. 
 
 Awake, my boy ! and let the rising sun 
 Blush to see his vigilance outdone ; 
 In cheerful works consume the fleeting day, 
 Toil thy pleasure, and business all thy play. 
 
 But of all the virtues that adorned the life of this 
 great man, there is none more worthy of our imitation 
 than his admirable industry. It is to this virtue ^n 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 221 
 
 her Washington, that America stands indebted for 
 services past calculation : and it is from this virtue, 
 that Washington himself snatched a wreath of glory- 
 that will never fade away. that the good genius ot 
 America may prevail ! that the example of this, her 
 favourite son, may be but universally adopted ! Soon 
 shall our land be free from all those sloth-begotten 
 demons which now haunt and torment us. For 
 whence do all our miseries proceed, but from lack 
 of industry ! In a land like this, which heaven has 
 blessed above all lands — a land abounding with the 
 fish and flesh pots of Egypt, and flowing with the 
 choicest milk and honey of Canaan — a land where the 
 poorest Lazarus may get his fifty cents a day for the 
 commonest labour — and buy the daintiest bread of 
 corn flour for a cent a pound ! why is any man 
 hungry, or thirsty, or naked, or in prison ? why biit 
 through his unpardonable sloth ? 
 
 But alas ! what would it avail, though the blest 
 shade of Washington were to descend from his natjve 
 skies, and with an angel's voice, recommend industry 
 as the handmaid of health, wealth, innocence, and 
 happiness to man. A notion, from the land of lies, 
 has taken too deep root among some, that " labour is 
 a low-lived thing, fit for none but poor people and 
 slaves ! and that dress and pleasure are the only ac- 
 complishments for a gentleman ! But does it become 
 a gentleman to saunter about, living on the charity 
 of his relations — to suffer himself to be dunned by 
 creditors, and, like a hunted wolf, to fly from the face 
 of sheriffs and constables ? Is it Hke a gentleman to 
 take a generous woman from her parents, and reduce 
 her to beggary — to see even her bed sold from under 
 her, and herself and weeping infants turned out of 
 doors ? It isUke a gentleman to reduce one's children 
 to rags, and to drive them like birds of heaven, to 
 hedges and highways, to pick berries, filling their 
 pale bloated bodies with disease ? Or is it like a gen- 
 tleman to bring ud one's sons in sloth, pleasure, and 
 
 19* 18* 
 
222 LIFE OF WASHINGTON 
 
 dress, as young noblemen, and then leave them witk- 
 out estates, profession, or trades, to turn gamblers, 
 sharpers, or horse thieves ? " From such gentlemen, 
 oh save my country, Heaven !" was Washington's 
 perpetual prayer, the emphatical prayer of his life and 
 great example ! In his ear, wisdom was heard inces- 
 santly calUng aloud, " He is the real gentleman, who 
 cheerfully contributes his every exertion to accomplish 
 heaven's favourite designs, the beauty, order and hap- 
 piness of human hfe ; whose industry appears in a 
 plentiful house and smiling wife ; in the decent ap- 
 parel of his children, and in their good education 
 and virtuous manners ; who is not afraid to see any 
 man on earth ; but meets his creditors with a smiling 
 countenance, and with the welcome music of gold 
 and silver in his hand ; who exerts an honest indus- 
 try for wealth, that he may become as a water-course 
 in a thirsty land, a source of refreshment to a thous- 
 and poor." 
 
 This was the life, this the example set by Wash- 
 ington. His whole inheritance was but a small tract 
 of poor land in Stafford county, and a few negroes. 
 This appearing utterly insufficient for those purposes 
 of usefulness, with the charms of which his mind 
 seems to have been early smitten, he resolved to make 
 up the deficiency by dint of industry and economy.- 
 For these virtues, how excellent ! hov/ rare in youth ! 
 Washington was admirably distinguished when but 
 a boy. At a time when many young men have no 
 higher ambition than a fine coat and a frolic, " often 
 have I seen him (says the reverend Mr. Le Massey) 
 riding about the country with his surveying instru- 
 ments at his saddle," enjoying the double satisfaction 
 of obliging his fellow citizens by surveying their 
 .ands, and of making money, not meanly to hoard, 
 but generously to lend to any worthy object that 
 asked it. This early industry was one of the first 
 steps to Washnigton's preferment. It attracted on 
 him the notice and admiration of his numerous ac« 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON 223 
 
 quaintance, and, which was still more in his favour, 
 it gave such uncommon strength to his constitution, 
 such vigour to his mind, such a spirit for adventure, 
 that he was ready for any glorious enterprize, no 
 matter how difficult or dangerous. Witness the ex- 
 pedition from Williamsburg through the Indian coun- 
 try to the Ohio, which at the green age of twenty-one, 
 he undertook for Governor Dinwiddie. Indeed this 
 uncommon attachment to industry and useful life, 
 made such an impression on the public mind in his 
 favour, that by the time he was one and twenty he 
 was appointed major and adjutant-general of the 
 Virginia forces in the Northern Neck ! 
 
 There was at this time a young fellow in Williams- 
 burg by the name of Jack B , who possessed 
 
 considerable vivacity, great good-nature, and several 
 accomplishments of the bon companion sort. He 
 could tell a good story, sing agreeably, scrape a little 
 on the fiddle, and cut as many capers to the tune of 
 old Roger, as any buck a-going ; and being, besides, 
 a young fellow of fortune, and a son of an intimate 
 acquaintance. Jack was a great favourite of the gov- 
 ernor, and much at his house. But all this could not 
 save poor Jack from the twinges of envy. For, on 
 hearing every body talk in praise of Major Washing- 
 ton, he could not help saying one day at the govern- 
 or's table, " I wonder what makes the people so 
 wrapped up in major Washington : I think, begging 
 your excellency's pardon, I had as good a right to a 
 major's commission." " Ah, Jack," replied the gov- 
 ernor, " when we want diversion, we send for you. 
 But when we want a man of business, we send for 
 Major Washington." 
 
 Never was the great Alfred more anxious to im- 
 prove his lime than our Washingiton : and it appears 
 that, like Alfred, he divided his time into four grand 
 departments, sleep, devotion, recreation, and business. 
 On the hours of buisness, whether in his own or his 
 ;ountry's service, he would allow nothing to infringe. 
 
«24 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 While in camp, no company, however illustrious- 
 no pleasures, however elegant — no conversation, how- 
 ever agreeable — could prevai. on him to neglect his 
 business. The moment that his hour of duty was 
 come, he would fill his glass, and with a smke, call 
 out his friends around the social board, " well, gen- 
 tlemen, here is bon repos," and immediately with- 
 draw to business. Bon repos is a French cant for 
 good night. Washington drank it as a signal to break 
 up ; for the moment the company had swallowed the 
 general's bon repos, it was hats and off. General 
 Wayne, who, happily for America, understood fight- 
 ing better than French, had some how or other taken 
 up a notion, than this same bon repos, to whom 
 Washington made such conscience of giving his last 
 bumper, must have been some great warrior of the 
 times of old. Having, by some extraordinary luck, 
 gotten hold of two or three dozen of good old wine, 
 he invited a parcel of hearty fellow-officers to dine 
 with him, and help him to break them to the health 
 of America. Soon as the cloth was removed, and 
 the bottles on the table, the hero of Stony Point cried 
 out, "come my brave fellows, fill your glass; here's 
 old bon repos for ever." The officers were thunder- 
 struck : but having tured off their wine, rose up, one 
 and all to go. " H^y day ! what's all this, gentlemen ? 
 what's all this ?" " Why," replied they, did not you 
 drink bon repos, or good night ?" 
 
 " What ! is that the meaning of it ?" " Yes," " Oh ! 
 then, damn old bon repos, and take your seats again : 
 ^or, by the Ufe of Washington, you shan't stir a peg 
 till we have started every drop of our wine." 
 
 While he was employed in choosing a place on 
 the Potomac, for the federal city, his industry was 
 no less remarkable. Knowing how little is generally 
 done before breakfast, he made it a rule to rise so 
 early as to have breakfast over, and be on horseback 
 by the time the sun was up. Let the rising genera- 
 tion lemember that he was then sixty years of age ' 
 
 i 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 225 
 
 On Ins farm, his husbandry of time was equally 
 exemplary. He contemplated a great object : an 
 object worthy of Washmgton. He aimed at teaching 
 nis countrymen the art of enriching their lands, and 
 consequently of rendering the condition of man and 
 beast more plentiful and happy. He had seen thou- 
 sands of acres, which, by constant cultivation, had 
 lost the power of covering their nakedness even with 
 a suit of humble sedge. He had seen thousands of 
 wretched cattle, which, driven out houseless and hay- ^' p 
 less into the cold wintry rains, presented such trem- 
 bling spectacles of starvation and misery, as were 
 enough to start the tear into Pity's eye. To remedy 
 these cruel evils (which certainly they are, for He 
 who lent us these animals never meant that we should 
 make their lives a curse to them, much less to our 
 children, hardened by such daily sights of misery,) 
 Washington generously set himself to make artificial 
 meadows; to cultivate fields of clover; and to raise 
 the most nutricious vegetables, such as cabbage, tur- 
 nips, scarcity and potatoes ; of which last article he 
 planted in one year 700 bushels! To render these 
 vast supplies of food the more beneficial to his cattle, 
 he built houses of shelter for them all. " He showed 
 me a barn," says Brissot, "upwards of 100 feet 
 square, and of brick, designed as a store-house for his 
 corn, potatoes, turnips, &c. around which he had 
 constructed stables of an amazing length, for hi? cattle." 
 Every one of them had a stall well littered with 
 leaves or straw ; and a rack and manger well fur- 
 nished with hay and provender. 
 
 The pleasure and profits arising from such an ai- 
 rangement are incalculable. How delicious must it 
 have been to a man of Washington's feelings, to 
 reflect that, even in the very worst weather, every 
 creature, on his extensive farms, was warmly and 
 comfortably provided ; to have seen his numerous 
 flocks and herds, gamboling around him through 
 excess of joy, and fullness of fat ; to have beheld his 
 
226 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 steps washed with butter, and his dairies floated with 
 rivers of milk ; to have seen his once naked fields and 
 frog-croaking swamps, now, by clearance or manure^ 
 converted into meadows, standing thick with heavy- 
 crops of timothy and sweet scented clover ; while his 
 farm-yards were piled with such quantities of litter 
 and manure as afforded a constantly increasing fer- 
 tility to his lands. 
 
 Here was an employment worthy of Washington ; 
 an employment, which we might indeed have ex- 
 pected from him, who, through life, had studied the 
 best interests of his countrymen ; who, first as a sol- 
 dier, had defended them from slavery, and crowned 
 them with liberty ; then, as a statesman, had pre- 
 served them from war, and secured to them the bles- 
 sings of peace ; and now as the last, but not the least 
 services of his life, was teaching them the great arts 
 of improving their farms, multiplying their cattle, 
 enriching their lands, and thus pouring a flood of 
 plenty and of comfort through the joyful habitations 
 of man and beast. 
 
 Full of the greatly benevolent idea, no wonder that 
 ne was so frugal of his time. Though the most hos- 
 pitable of all the hospitable Virginians, he would not 
 suffer the society of his dearest friends to take him 
 from his business. Long accustomed to find his 
 happiness in doing his duty, he had attained to s'ich 
 a royal arch degree of virtue, as to be restless and 
 uneasy while his duty was neglected. Hence, of all 
 that ever lived, Washington was the most rigidly 
 observant of those hours of business which weie 
 necessary to the successful management of his vast 
 concerns. " Gentlerrien, (he would often say to his 
 friends who visited him) I must beg leave of absence 
 a few hours in the forenoon: here is plenty of amuse- 
 ments, books, music, &c. Consider yourselves a^ 
 home, and be happy.'^ He came in about twelve, 
 o'clock ; and then, as if animated by the conscious- 
 ness of having done his duty, and that all was going 
 
LIFE OF AVASHINGTON. 227 
 
 nght, would give himself up to his friends a ad to 
 decent mirth the rest of the day. 
 
 But his mornings were always his own. Long 
 before the sun peeped into the chambers of the slug 
 gard, Washington was on horseback, and out among 
 his overseers and servants; and neither himself nor 
 any about him were allowed to eat the bread of idle- 
 ness. The happy effects of such industry were ob- 
 vious. Well manured and tilled, his lands yielded a 
 grateful return : and it was at once pleasing and as- 
 tonishing to behold the immense quantities of fine hay, 
 of fat cattle, and choice grain, that were raised on his 
 farms ; of wheat 7000 bushels in one year, and 5000 
 oushels of Indian corn ! His servants fared plentiful- 
 ly. His cattle never had the hollow horn. And the 
 surplus of his prudence, sold to the merchants, furnish- 
 ed bread to the needy, and a revenue to himself more 
 than sufficient to defray his vast expenditures, and to 
 spread a table of true Virginian hospitality for those 
 crowds of friends and foreigners whom affection or 
 curiosity led to visit him. 
 
 Oh ! divine Industry ! queen mother of all our 
 virtues and of all our blessings ! what is there of 
 great or of good in this wide world that springs not 
 from thy royal bounty ? And thou, ! infernal Sloth! 
 fruitful fountain of all our crimes and and curses ! 
 what is there of mean or of miserable in the lot of 
 man that flows not from thy hellish malice ? 
 
 What was it that betrayed David, otherwise the 
 best of kings, into the worst of crimes? Idleness. 
 Sauntering about idly on the terrace of his palace, he 
 beheld the naked beauties of the distant Bathsheba. 
 Lust, adultery, and murder were the consequences. 
 
 What was it that brought on a ten year's war be- 
 tween the Greeks and Trojans? Idleness. Young 
 Paris, the coxcomb of Troy, having nothing to do, 
 strolls over to the court of Menelaus (a Greek prince) 
 whose beauteous wife, Helen, the black-eyed queen 
 of love, he corrupts and carries off to Troy. A 
 
228 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 bloody war ensues. Paris is slain. His father, bro- 
 thers, and myriads of wretched subjects are slaugh- 
 tered : and Troy, the finest city of Asia, is reduced 
 to ashes ! 
 
 What was it that hurried poor Mr. A d to that 
 
 horrid act of suicide, which froze the blood of ail who 
 heard it ? Idleness. His young wife, with all that 
 we could conceive of sweetness, tenderness, and truth 
 in an angePs form ; and his three beauteous babes 
 were the three graces in smiling infancy. But oli, 
 wretched man ! having nothing to do ! he strolled to 
 a tavern, and to a card table, where he lost his all ! 
 five thousand pounds, lately settled on him by a fond 
 father ! He awakes to horrors unutterable ! What 
 will become of his ruined wife ! his beggared babes ? 
 Believing his torments little inferior to those of the 
 damned, he seizes the fatal pistol ; drives the scorch- 
 ing bullet through his brains ; and flies a shrieking 
 ghost to join the mournful throng ! 
 
 sad sight ! see yon tall young man, in powder 
 and rufiles, standing before his judges, trembling hke 
 an aspen, and pale and blank as the picture of guilt; 
 while the crowded court house, every countenance 
 filled with pity or contempt, is fixed upon him. Alas I 
 what could have brought him to this? Idleness. His 
 fathe** happening to possess 500 acres of poor land, 
 and a few negroes, thought it would be an eternal 
 disgrace to his family to bring up his son, (though he 
 had many,) to be a mechanic. No : he must be a 
 gentleman !! Grown to man's estate, and havhig no 
 profession, trade, or habit of industry to support this 
 pleasant life, he took to horse-stealing. If we had 
 leisure to wait, we snould presently see this unhappy 
 youth, on receiving sentence of death, bursting into 
 sobs and cries sufficient to make us wish he had 
 never been born. But let us leave these horrible 
 scenes of shame, misery, and death, into which idle- 
 ness never fails to bring poor deluded youth, and 
 joyfully return to our beloved Washington, and 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 229 
 
 to his health, wealth, and glory-giving goddess, 
 Industry. 
 
 What is it that braces the nerves, purifies the 
 blood, and hands down the flame of life, bright and 
 sparkling, to old age ? What, but rosy checked 
 Industry. See Washington so invigorated by con- 
 stant exercise, that, though hereditarily subject to the 
 gout, of wliich all his family died, he entirely escaped 
 it ; and, even at the age of 66, continued straight and 
 active as a young grenadier, and ready once more at 
 his country's call, to lead her eager warriors to the 
 field. 
 
 What is it that preserves the morals of young men 
 unsoiled, and secures the blessings of unblemished 
 character and unbroken health ? What, but snow- 
 robed industry ? See Washington under the guard- 
 ianship of industry, walking the sUppery paths of 
 youth, safe and uncorrupted, though born in a 
 <iountry whose fertility and climate furnished both 
 the means and invitation to vice. Early smitten 
 with the love of glory ; early engaged in the noble 
 pursuit of knowledge, of independence, and of use- 
 fulness ; he had no eyes to see bad examples, nor 
 ensnaruig objects ; no ears to hear horrid oaths, nor 
 obscene language j no leisure for impure passions nor 
 crniiinal amours. Hence he enjoyed that purity of 
 soul, which is rightly called its sunshine ; and which 
 impressed a dignity on his character, and gave him a 
 beauty and loveliness in the eyes of men, that contri- 
 buted more to his rise in the world, than young peo- 
 ple can readily conceive. 
 
 And what is it that raises a young man from 
 poverty to wealth, from obscurity to never-dying 
 fame ? What, but industry ? See Washington, 
 born of humble parents, and in humble circumstan- 
 ces — born in a narrow nook and obscure corner of 
 the British plantations ! yet lo ! What great things 
 wonder- workmg industry can bring out of this un- 
 promising Nazareth. While but a youth, he mani- 
 20 IS 
 
«30 LIFE OF WASHING rON. 
 
 Tested such a nob.e contempt of sloth, such a nianiy 
 spirit to be always learning or doing something use- 
 ful or clever, that he was the praise of all who knew 
 him. And, though but 15, so high were the hopes 
 entertained of him, he was appointed a surveyor ! 
 \rduous tasi<: ! But his industry was a full match 
 for it. Such was the alertness with which he carried 
 on his survey ; such the neatness and accuracy of his 
 plats and drafts, that he met with universal applause 
 Full-fed and flushed with so much fare of praise, a 
 fare of all others the most toothsome and wholesome 
 to generous minds, our young eagle began to flap his 
 wings of honest ambition, and to pant for nobler 
 darings. A fair occasion was soon ofl*ered — a dan- 
 gerous expedition through the Indian wilds, as 
 already mentioned, to the French Mamelukes on the 
 Ohio. Nobody else having ambition for such an 
 adventure, Washington's offer was p-ladly accepted. 
 And he executed that hazardous and important trust 
 with such diligence and propriety, that he received 
 the thanks of the governor and council. Honours 
 came down on him now in showers. He was ap- 
 pointed major and adjutant-general of the Virginia 
 forces ; then a colonel; afterwards a member of the 
 house of burgesses; next, generalissimo of the armies 
 of the United States ; and, finally, chief magistrate 
 of the Union. All these floods of prosperity and 
 honour, which in thousands would have but served 
 to bloat with lust or pride, with him served but the 
 more to rouse his industry, and to enlarge his use- 
 fulness ; for such was his economy of time, and so 
 admirable his method and regularity of business, that 
 he always kept a-head of it.* No letters of conse- 
 
 * He was taken ill on Friday. An intimate friend asked him if h« 
 wished to have any thing done on the arrangement of his temporal 
 affairs. He shook his head, and replied, " No, I thank you ; for my 
 books are all posted to Tuesday I" Thac industry and method must 
 be truly astonishing, wnich in the management of possessions so vast 
 and coinplic;tteil as his, kept every ihiiig so harmoniously adjusted, da 
 to be re;itly, at a monuut's warning, to leave the world for ever with 
 nut a wisl) to alter a tittle. 
 
 .*j 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 231 
 
 quence were unanswered. No reasonable expecta 
 tions were disappointed. No necessary information 
 was ever neglected. Neither the congress, nor the 
 governors of the several states, nor the officers of his 
 army, nor the British generals, nor even the over- 
 seers and stewards on his farms, were uninformed 
 what he expected from them. Nobody concerned 
 with him was idle or fretted for want of knowin'g 
 what to do. 
 
 admirable man ! great preceptor to his 
 country ! no wonder every body honoured him who 
 honoured every body ; for the poorest beggar that 
 wrote to him on business, was sure to receive a 
 speedy and decisive answer. No wonder every body 
 loved him, who, by his unwearied attention to the 
 public good, manifested the tenderest love for every 
 body. No wonder that his country delighted to 
 honour him, who shewed such a sense of her honours 
 that he would not allow even a leaf of them to 
 wither ; but so watered them all with the refreshing 
 streams of industry, that they continued to bloom 
 with ever-increasing glory on his head. 
 
 Since the day that God created man on the earth, 
 none ever displayed the power of industry more sig- 
 nally than did George Washington. Had he, as 
 prince of Wales, or as dauphin of France rendered 
 such great services, or attained such immortal 
 honours, it would not have seemed so marvellous in 
 our eyes. But that a poor young man, with neither 
 king, lords, nor commons to back him — with no 
 princes, nor strumpets of princes, to curry favour for 
 him — with no gold but his virtue, no silver but his 
 industry, should, with this old-fashioned coin, have 
 stolen away the hearts of all the American Israel, and 
 from a sheep-cot have ascended the throne of his 
 country's affections, and acquired a name above the 
 mighty ones of the earth ! this is marvellous indeed ! 
 It is surely the noblest panegyric ever yet paid to 
 that great virtue, mdustry, which has "length of da ya 
 
9S& LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 in her right hand ; and in her left hand riches and 
 honours.'^ 
 
 Young reader: go thy way; think of Washington; 
 and HOPE. Though humble thy birth, low thy for- 
 tune, and few thy friends, still think of Washington ; 
 and HOPE. Like him, honour thy God ; and delight 
 m glorious toil. Then, like him, " thou shalt stand 
 before kings. Thou shalt not stand b':jfore ccmmon 
 men." 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 WASHINGTON'S CHARACTER CONTINUED. 
 
 HIS PATRIOTISM. 
 
 "O eternal King of men and angels, elevate our minds! each low 
 and partial passion thence dispel f till thiij great truth in every 
 heart be known, that none but those w ho aid the public cause, can 
 shield their country or themselves from chains." 
 
 Lcoi^inAS. 
 
 In this grand republican virtue, we can with 
 pleasure compare our Washington with the greatest 
 worthies of ancient or modern times. 
 
 The patriotism of the Roman emperor, Alexan- 
 der, has been celebrated through all ages, because he 
 was never known to give any place through favour 
 or friendship ; but employed those only whom he be- 
 lieved to be the best qualified to serve his country. 
 In our Washington we meet this great and honest 
 emperor again. For in choosing men to serve his 
 country, Washington knew no recommendation but 
 merit — had no favourite but worth. No relations, 
 however near — no friends, however dear — stood any 
 chance for places under him, provided he knew men 
 better qualified. Respecting such men, he never 
 troubled himself to inquire, whether they w^.re 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 233 
 
 foreigners or natives, federalists or democrats. Some 
 of the young officers of fiis native state, on hearing 
 that colonel Washington was made commander in 
 CHIEF, were prodigiously pleased, expecting to be 
 made field officers immediately. But in this they 
 were so utterly mistaken, that some of them have 
 foolishly said, "it was a misfortune to be a Virginian." 
 Indeed, his great soul was so truly reputlican, that, 
 during the whole of his administration, he was never 
 known to advance an individual of his own name 
 and family. 
 
 The British, with good reason, admire and extol 
 admiral Blake as one of the bravest and best of 
 patriots ; because, though he disliked Oliver Crom- 
 well, yet he fought gallantly under him ; and, with 
 his dying breath, exhorted his men, " to love their 
 country as a common mother ; and, no matter what 
 hands the government might fall into, to fight for her 
 Uke good children." 
 
 Of the same noble spirit was Washington. Often 
 was he called to obey men greatly his inferiors, and 
 to execute orders which he entirely disapproved. 
 But he was never known to falter. Sensible of the 
 infinite importance of union and order to the good of 
 his country, he ever yielded a prompt obedience to 
 her delegated will. And, not content with setting us, 
 through life, so fair an example, he leaves us at his 
 death, this blessed advice : "Your government claims 
 your utmost confidence and support. Respect for 
 its AUTHORITY, compUauce with its laws, acquiescence 
 in its measures, are duties enjoined by the funda 
 mental maxims of true liberty. The basis of our 
 po-itical system is the right of the people to make and 
 alter their constitutions of government. But the 
 constitution, which at any time exists, until changed 
 by an explicit and authentic act of the whole people, 
 
 is SACREDLY OBLIGATORY UPON ALL." 
 
 History has lavished its choicest praises on those 
 magnanimous patriots, who, in their wars for liberty 
 80* 19* 
 
«34 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 and their country, have cheerfully sacrificed their 
 own wealth to defeat the common enemy. 
 
 Equal to this was the spirit of Washington. For, 
 during the war, while he was with the army to the 
 north, a British frigate came up the Potomac, to 
 Mount Vernon ; and threatened to lay the place in 
 ashes, if provisions were not instantly sent on board 
 To save that venerable mansion, the manager sent 
 aboard the requisite supplies. On hearing the mat- 
 ter, Washington wrote his manager the following 
 letter : 
 
 " Sir — It gives me extreme concern to hear that 
 you furnished the enemy with refreshments. It 
 would have been a less painful circumstance to me, 
 to have heard, that in consequence of your non-com- 
 pliance with their request, they had laid my planta- 
 tion in ruins. 
 
 George Washington." 
 
 But, among all his splendid acts of patriotism, there 
 is none which, with so little noise, may do us more 
 good, than his " Legacy, or Farewell to the People 
 of the United States.'* In this admirable bequest, 
 like a true teacher sent from God, he dwells chiefly 
 on our union and brotherly love. This, the first birth 
 of true religion, appears to him as the one thing 
 needful, the spring of political life, and bond of per- 
 fection. 
 
 On this topic he employs all the energies of his 
 mind : and, in words worthy to be written in gold, 
 emphatically beseeches his countrymen to guard 
 with holiest care " the unity of the government," as 
 the **main pillar and palladium of their liberty, their 
 independence, and every thing most dear to them on 
 earth." 
 
 Little did that illustrious patriot suspect, that, in 
 so short a time after his death, the awful idea of dis- 
 union should have become familiar to the public eye 
 
 •i 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 235 
 
 — ^o familiar as to have worn off half its horrors from 
 the minds of many of our deluded citizens ! Disunion ! 
 Merciful God ! what good man can think of it but 
 as of treason, and as a very Pandora's box, replete 
 with every curse that can give up our dear country 
 to desolation and havoc ! 
 
 This disorganizmg scheme has been three times 
 brought forward, by what Washington terms " cun 
 ning, ambitiou'', and unprincipled men,'' making use 
 of a thousand 4,rts to shut the eyes of the citizens on 
 that yawning gulph to which they were so wickedly 
 misleading them. And each time, Lucifer-like, these 
 ministers of darkness have clothed themselves over 
 as « angels of light" with the captivating plea of 
 public good. — " The disadvantages of the union ! the 
 disadvantages of the union ?" is their constant cry. 
 Now admitting it to be true, that this so much hated 
 union has its disadvantages, (and where is there any 
 human institution, even the noblest, that is free from 
 them ?) yet is it not the parent of blessings so many 
 and great, that no good man, as Washington says, 
 « can think of them without gratitude and rejoicing?" 
 and is it not equally true, that these disadvantages of 
 the union would not, in fifty years, equal the ruinous 
 consequence of a disunion, in probably half a year. 
 
 At present,* the plea for this most horrible mea- 
 sure, is the mischievous effects of the embargo. — 
 Well, grant that it is mischievous, highly mischievous 
 and painful, for such we all feel it, yet how inexpres- 
 sibly absurd it must be, to put the loss of trade, for 
 a year or two, in competition with the peace and 
 happiness, the independence and sovereignty of our 
 country? Would not this be an act a thousand times 
 more mad and wicked than that of the wretched 
 Esau, who, to remove the cravings of a momentary 
 appetite, sold his birth-right for a mess of pottage ! 
 
 At this day, through the great mercies of God, wo 
 
 • This was written Anno Domini, 1809 
 
836 LIFE W WASHINGTOIS. 
 
 have cause to consider ourselves the happiest nation 
 on earth. — List ! oh Ust ! 
 
 For many years past the greater part of Christen- 
 dom has been involved in all the horrors of the most 
 bloody and destructive wars. Tlieir kings and queens 
 have been rudely hurled from their thrones : and the 
 "honourable men and the princes," verifying the 
 mournful language of ancient prophecy, have been 
 seen embracing the dung-hill, or flying from their 
 distracted countries : while the mass of the people, 
 unable to fly, have been crushed to the earth with 
 tythes and taxes — with impressments and conscrip- 
 tions — with forced loans and arbitrary requisitions— 
 with martial law, administered by military judges, 
 with the bayonet at the breast of the citizens ! On 
 the other hand, during all these horrid convulsions 
 and miseries of other nations, we, thoughtless, thank- 
 less we, have enjoyed all the blessings of peace, 
 \ H plenty, and security. Our persons have been free 
 Vo from the violence of impressments and conscriptions; 
 and our lives and property perfectly safe under the 
 nififhtly staves of a few old watchmen ! while othei 
 nations have been over-run with devouring armies, 
 and doomed to see their houses in flames, and the 
 garments of their children rolled in blood, we, like 
 favoured Israel, have been sitting under our vine and 
 fig-tree, none daring to make us afraid. We have 
 been advancing in riches and strength, with a rapidity 
 unequalled in the history of man. We have been 
 progressing in arts, manufactures, and commerce, to 
 an extent and success that has astonished the most 
 enlightened Europeans: and even at this moment, 
 while suflering under the privations of the embargo^ 
 we are feasted with every necessary, and enjoying 
 many of the elegancies of life. 
 
 And yet, with so many substantial blessings in oui 
 hands, with so much heaven-sent manna in our mouths, 
 like ungrateful Israel, we are mourning for lack of 
 European luxuries (as they did for the Egyptian 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 237 
 
 flesh-pots,) luxuries which we once enjoyed, but are 
 now most unjustly deprived of by our brethren, the 
 nations of Europe, who are stronger than we. And 
 as if that were not a sufficient evil — as if it were not 
 grievous enough to suffer such a hindrance in trade^ 
 agriculture, and business of all kinds — we are now 
 threatened with one, in comparison of which oui pre- 
 sent privations are insignificant — one which of all 
 others, Washington most dreaded, and was most 
 startled at, I mean a separation of the states, and 
 consequently, civil war. 
 
 This dreadful consequence is as obvious as it is 
 dreadful. Yes, it is most obvious, that the separation 
 of the states can never take place without civil war. 
 For if the states, disposed to separate, were unani- 
 mous in the attempt, the general government could 
 not look idly on their apostacy, but must resist it ! 
 and to tliat end must call out the force of the rest of 
 the union to crush it. And here, merciful God! 
 what scenes are rising before the eyes of horror-struck 
 imagination? A whole nation suddenly filled with 
 terror ; " men's hearts failing them for fear, and for 
 looking to those things that are coming on the land" 
 — the drums and instruments of war beginning to 
 sound — the warriors' guns and swords preparing ; 
 not for cheerful defence of liberty and country, which 
 would make war glorious ; but for the gloomy and 
 mfernal work of civil discord. Sisters, mute with 
 grief, and looking through swelling tears, on their 
 brothers, as they gird on the hated swords — wives, 
 shaking with strong fits, and, with their little child- 
 ren, filling their houses with lamentations for hus- 
 bands and fathers tearing themselves away for the 
 dismal war, whence they are to return no more ! 
 while aged parents, at parting with their sons, 
 express the deep grief only in groans ! or, wringing 
 their withered hands, with tearful eyes to heaven, 
 miplore a speedy grave to put t-heir griefs to rest. 
 
 But all this is but the beginning of sorrows. Foi 
 
838 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 who can paint the scenes which ensue when the two 
 armies meet? when they meet, not in the liberal spirit 
 of stranger troops, who, fighting merely for honour 
 and pay, are ready, in the first moment of victory, 
 to sheath their swords, and to treat the vanquished 
 with humanity and politeness ; but in all the bitter- 
 ness and exterminating spirit of a family quarrel, 
 where men, after numberless acts of the blackest 
 slander and of rancorous hate, having done every 
 thing to destroy each other's souls, are nov/ come 
 together to destroy each other's bodies. Hence, the 
 moment the ill-fated parties meet, their fierce re- 
 vengeful passions take fire : scarce can they wait the 
 trumpet's dreadful signal. Then, rushing on each 
 other, more Uke demons than men, they thrust and 
 stab, and shout and yell, in the horrid work of mu- 
 tual slaughter. 
 
 And when one of the wretched parties, nearly 
 consumed by the sword, and unable to resist any 
 longer, cry for quarters, they cry in vain. 
 
 The furious conquerors feel not the touch of pity ; 
 but, regardless of uplifted hands and prayers, continue 
 their cruel blows till all is hushed in death. 
 
 This is the horrid fate of all civil wars. The 
 streets of ancient Rome ; the fields of Culloden ; the 
 plains of modern France ; and even the piney woods 
 of Georgia and South Carolina, strewed with man- 
 gled carcases, all give awful proof, that when breth- 
 ren turn their swords into each other's bowels, war 
 degenerates into murder, and battles into butcheries. 
 
 Nor can even the grave set hmits to their rage ; 
 but, like lions, turning from the mangled dead, they 
 fly for new game to the living. All those, who by 
 their weahh had most injured, or by their writings 
 had most inflamed them, are sure to be the victims 
 of their vengeance. Such persons — as was the case 
 m the last war, between the whigs and tories? in tne 
 southern states — have been dragged out of their 
 tiouses, and, amidst the screams of their wives and 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 1,39 
 
 chidren, Iiave been hung up on the trees, or cut to 
 pieces with swords with the most savage joy ; while 
 their furniture has been plundered, their houses 
 burnt, their cattle and slaves carried off, and their 
 widows and children driven out, crying, and without 
 bread, into the barren woods. 
 
 Nor does this tragedy (of a free government mad- 
 ly divided and destroying itself) terminate here. 
 Even this, as Solomon says, is but their "< way to hell 
 and their going down by the chambers of death," 
 (political slavery.) For when nations thus wickedly 
 abuse their liberty, God will take it away. When 
 they will not live in peace, out of virtuous choice, 
 they shall be compelled by brutal force. 
 
 And since they would not let God reign over them 
 via golden sceptre of reason and equal laws, he 
 will set a master over them with a scourge of scor- 
 pions and an iron rod : some proud tyrant, who, look- 
 ing on our country but as his estate, and ourselves 
 as his cattle, shall waste our wealth on the pomps of 
 his court, or the salaries of his officers ; destroy our 
 sons in his ambitious wars ; and beggar us with ex- 
 actions, as long as his ministers can invent taxes, or 
 we, by hard labour, can raise money to pay them. 
 
 " Then," in the words of Washington, " what a 
 triumph for the advocates of despotism, to find that 
 we are incapable of governing ourselves ; and that 
 systems founded on equal liberty are ideal and falla- 
 cious !" Then, how will the proud sons of despotism 
 shake themselves with laughter on their thrones; 
 and hell itself, responsive to their joy, clank her con- 
 gratulating chains, that heaven is defeated, and the 
 misery of man is sealed. 
 
 But, ye favoured countrymen of Washington ! 
 your republic is not yet lost ; there is still hope. The 
 arm that wrought your political salvation, is still 
 ?tretched out to save; then hear his voice and hve ! 
 Hear the voice of the Divine Founder of your repub 
 lie : " Little children, love one another." Hear hia 
 
240 LIFE OF WASHINC/J ON. 
 
 voice from the lips of his servant Washington 
 »< Above all things hold dear your national unioa 
 Accustom yourselves to estimate its immense, its in- 
 finite value to your individual and national happiness 
 Look on it as the palladium of your tranquillity at 
 home ; of your peace abroad ; of your safety ; of 
 your prosperity ; and even of that very liberty which 
 you so highly prize !" To this you are bound by 
 every tie of gratitude and love to God or man. 1st. 
 As to God, no people more than you can be bound 
 to adore that invisible hand which rules the aftairs 
 of men. 'Twas he who fought your battles, and 
 against such fearful odds established your indepen- 
 dence ; and afterwards disposed your hearts for the 
 reception of a general and equal government. And 
 for what did God perform all these miracles for you 
 but that he might glorify himself in your protection 
 and happiness? And will you now rise up with joy 
 to co-operate with God in the glorious work of beau- 
 tifying, with the fruits of righteousness, this goodly 
 land, which he has so honoured, that he may place 
 his own great name therein ? 
 
 And remember, moreover, my countrymen, that 
 you are now the favoured actors on a most conspicu- 
 ous theatre ; a theatre which seems peculiarly 
 designated of Heaven for the display of human great- 
 ness and felicity. Far from the furious passions and 
 politics of Europe, you are placed here by yourselves, 
 the sole proprietors of a vast region, embracing all 
 the soils and cHmates of the earth, and abounding 
 with all the conveniences of life. And Heaven has 
 crowned all its blessings by giving you a freer 
 government and a fairer opportunity for political 
 happiness than any other nation was ever favoured 
 with. In this view, citizens of the United States, you 
 are certainly responsible for the highest trust ever 
 confided to any people. The eyes of long oppressed 
 humanity are now looking up to you as to her last 
 hope ; the whole world are anxious spectators ot 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 24 \ 
 
 your trial ; and with your behaviour at this crisis, 
 not only your own, but the destiny of unborn millions 
 IS involved. If, now, you make a wise use of the 
 all important opportunity — if your free constitution 
 should be sacredly maintained — if honour, if patriot- 
 ism, if union, and brotherly love should prevail, with 
 all the good qualities which ennoble the character of 
 nations — then the victory will be sure: your triumph 
 will be complete : and the pressure of the present 
 difficulties, instead of weakening will give a firmer 
 tone to the federal government, that shall probably 
 immortalize the blessings of liberty to our children 
 and children's children. 
 
 Then rouse ! my generous countrymen, rouse ! 
 and, filled with the awfulness of our situation, with 
 the glorious spirit of '76, rally around the sacred 
 standard of your country. As good children give 
 her all your support. Respect her authority !— 
 comply with her laws ! acquiesce in her measures ! 
 Thus cemented by love, she shall become like the 
 •uecious wedge of Ophir that defies the furnace ; and 
 'loming forth from the fiery trial brighter than ever, 
 she shall shed on the cause of freedom, a dignity and 
 lustre which it never enjoyed before; a lustre which 
 cannot fail to have a favourable influence on the 
 rights of man. Other nations, finding from your 
 example, that men are capable of governing them- 
 selves, will aspire to the same honour and felicity. 
 Great and successful struggles will be made for 
 liberty. Free governments (the pure mothers of 
 nations,) will at length be established. Honouring 
 all their virtuous children alike, jealousies and hatreds 
 will cease, and cordial love prevail, inviting the 
 industry of all, the blessing of plenty will be spread 
 abroad, and shameless thefts be done away. And 
 wisdom and worth (as in the choice of a free people) 
 being called to high places, errors will *ie rare. 
 Vices, ashamed, shall hide their odious heads, 
 cruelties spom abhorrent, and wars unknown Tims 
 
 21 20 
 
842 LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 step by step progressing in virtue, the world vviL 
 ripen for glory, till the great hour of her dissolution 
 being come, the ready archangel shall lift his trum- 
 pet, and sound her knell. The last refining flames 
 shall then kindle on this tear-bathed, blood-stained 
 globe, while from its ashes a new earth shall spring, 
 far happier than the first. There, freed from all 
 their imperfections, the spirits of good men, (the only 
 true patriots,) shall dwell together, and spend their 
 ever brightening days in loves and joys eternal. 
 
 May the Great Founder of your holy republic 
 keep you all under his divine protection ; incline 
 your hearts to cultivate a spirit of cheerful subordi- 
 nation to government; to entertain a brotherly affec- 
 tion and love for one another ; and finally dispose 
 you all to do justice ; to love mercy ; and to demean 
 yourselves with that charity, humility, and pacific 
 temper of mind, which were the characteristics of 
 the Divine Author of our blessed religion ; without 
 an humble imitation of whose example, in these 
 things, we can never hope to be a great and happy 
 nation.*' 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 Washington's will. 
 
 Few great men are great in every thing. But m 
 the last testament of this extraordinary American, 
 we see some things altogether characteristic. 
 
 When Benedict Arnold came to die, he said — ^' I 
 bequeath my soul to God." 
 
 When Henry Laurens, president of the first con 
 gress, came to die, he said, "My flesh is too good for 
 worms : I give it to the flames ;" which was done. 
 
 But Washington makes no preamble about his 
 boul or body. As to his soul, having made it his 
 
LIFE OF WASHINGTON. 243 
 
 great business to re-instamp on it the image of God^ 
 he doubted not but it would be remembered, when 
 Carist should come "to make up his jewels." 
 
 And as to his body, that admirable piece of divinfl 
 n?echanism, so long the honoured servant of duty ta 
 his God and his country, he trusted, that, though 
 " sown in dishonour, it would one day be raised in 
 glory ;" so leaving it to rest in hope, he proceeds to 
 the following distribution of his worldly goods : 
 
 1st. Though an old husband of 68, yet, with the 
 gallantry and warm aftection of a young groom, he 
 gives the whole of his estate (530,000 dollars) to his 
 beloved wife Martha. 
 
 2d. Like a pure republican, he orders all his slaves 
 to be liberated, at certain ages, on his wife's death — 
 lamenting, that from obstacles insurmountable, he 
 could not have done it earner 
 
 3d. He confirms his former donations, viz. 4000 
 dollars to a charity school in the town of Alexandria ; 
 111,000 dollars to Liberty Hall Academy, Rockbridge 
 county, Virginia ; and 20,000 dollars to a national 
 university, to be founded in Washington ; with this 
 remark: "It has always been a source of serious 
 regret with me, to see the youth of these United 
 States sent to foreign countries for education, often 
 before their minds were formed, or they had imbibed 
 just ideas of the happiness of their own; contractmg 
 too frequently, not only habits of dissipation and 
 extravagance, but principles unfriendly to republican 
 government, and to the true and genuine liberties of 
 mankind. 
 
 « For these reasons, it has been my ardent wish to 
 see a university in a central part of the union, to 
 which the youth of fortune and talents, from all parts 
 thereof, may be sent for the completion of their 
 education in all the branches of polite and useful 
 learning, and especially of politics and good govern- 
 ment ; and also that, by associating with each other, 
 and forming friendships in early life, they may be 
 
244 LIFE OF WASHIISGTON. 
 
 enabled to free themselves from those local preju 
 dices and state jealousies, which are never-failing 
 sources of disquietude to the public mind, and preg- 
 nant with mischievous consequences to this country/' 
 4th. Having no children, he bequeaths the whole 
 of his estate, a few legacies excepted, to the children, 
 23 in number, of his brothers and sister; and, like a 
 generous and affectionate relative, he gave to the 
 children of his half brother, Augustin, equally as to 
 those of his own brothers. And, 'tis p» most pleasing 
 fact, he gave to his wife's grand-children in like 
 liberal measure with his own nieces and nephews ! 
 the part given to each has been computed at 20,000 
 dollars. 
 
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PUBLICATIONS OF J. B. LIPPINCOTT &* CO. 
 
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