Part 3

This session of Congress passed over. It was the long one, and ran into May 1792. I find in the collection only three letters to Mr. Lear dated in that year. The first is from Mount Vernon, July 30, '92, soon after he had left Philadelphia, and is familiarly descriptive of his journey homewards. His horses plagued him a good deal, he says, and the sick mare, owing to a dose of physic administered the night he reached Chester, was so much weakened as to be unable to carry Austin [one of the postilions] further than the Susquehannah; had to be led thence to Hartford, where she was left, and two days afterwards, "gave up the ghost." As he travelled on, he heard great complaints of the Hessian fly, and of rust or mildew in the wheat, and believed that the damage would be great in some places; but that more was said than the case warranted, and on the whole the crops would be abundant. On arriving in Georgetown, he found many well-conceived plans for the public buildings in the new city, and remarks that it was a pleasure to him to find in our new country so much architectural ability displayed. Concludes, "I am your affectionate friend, G.W."

The second is dated Mount Vernon, September 21, '92. He tells Mr. Lear that he had written him but one letter since arriving at Mount Vernon, but was on the eve of writing a second when his of the 5th of August got to hand, with such information of his movements (Mr. Lear having been away from Philadelphia) as might now enable him to direct a letter to him without danger of its "reverberating back." He thanks him for the information afforded in his letter of the 5th of August and in another of the 21st of July; says he has nothing agreeable of a domestic nature to relate. Poor George [the General is here supposed to allude to Mr. George Lewis, one of his nephews, then staying at Mount Vernon], he fears, is not far from that place whence no traveller returns; he is but the shadow of what he was; has not been out of his room, scarcely out of his bed, for six weeks; has intervals of ease which flatter us a little, but he, the General, has little hope of his surviving the winter. It is so he writes of this nephew, adding that the subject gives him much distress. Concludes, "with sincere and affectionate regard I am always your friend, G.W."

The third is dated Mount Vernon, October 1, '92. In the expectation that this letter will find Mr. Lear again in Philadelphia, he wishes him to begin in time to compare all his former speeches to Congress with the subsequent acts of that body that he might see what parts of them passed altogether unnoticed or had been only partially noticed, that thus he might be enabled to judge whether any and what parts should be brought forward again. He requests him also, as before, to note everything that may occur to him as fit to be noticed in his communication to Congress this year, as he desires to have all the materials collected for his consideration in preparing his speech. He speaks again of the illness of "poor George," and says that others of his family are unwell. Concludes in his usually kind and affection manner.

Mr. Lear had now ceased to be his private Secretary; but the most intimate correspondence was still kept up with him. On the 21st of June, 1793, there is a letter to him from Philadelphia [Mr. L. then being in Georgetown], which the General writes on purpose to say that he considers it a very kind and friendly act in him to go to Mount Vernon. The letter finishes with a few lines of allusion to his private affairs.

Philadelphia, May 6, 1794. This is a letter written to Mr. Lear when the latter was in England. It treats of private matters, and expresses his pleasure at the reception he had from the Earl of Buchan, Sir John Sinclair, and others in England to whom General Washington had given him letters. He tells him he was much obliged to him for the several communications in his letters, and placed great reliance on them; that the opportunities he derived from mixing with people in different walks, high and low, and of different political sentiments, must have afforded him an extensive range for observation and comparison; more so by far than could fall to the lot of a stationary person always revolving in a particular circle. The General then touches on our home affairs. [He was still President, it will be remembered.] He says that to tell him the British order in council of the 8th of June last respecting neutral vessels had given much discontent in the United States; and that that of the 6th of November had thrown the people into a flame, could hardly be new to him. In reference to all the existing difficulties with England he tells him that many measures had been moved in Congress, some of which had passed into acts, and others were pending; that among the former was a law for fortifying our principal seaports, and another for raising an additional corps of eight hundred artillery-men for the defence of them and other purposes; and that the bills pending were: 1st. One to complete our present military establishment; 2d. One to raise an army of twenty-five thousand men in addition to it; and 3d. A bill to organize, put in training, and hold in readiness at a minute's warning a select corps of eighty thousand militia. He seemed to think that the first and last would pass, but that the result of the second could not be so well predicted. He mentions the appointment of Mr. Jay as special minister to England in the hope of settling all our difficulties in a temperate way by fair and firm negotiation, and that he would sail in a few days, with Mr. John Trumbell as his private Secretary; tells him also of Mr. Randolph's appointment as Secretary of State, and that Mr. Bradford, of Pennsylvania, was made Attorney General in Mr. Randolph's place. In conclusion, he alludes to "little Lincoln" [Mr. Lear's son] and his "lottery tickets," which, "poor little fellow!" he exclaims, will never be likely to build him a baby-house even; the whole Washington lottery business having turned out a bed of thorns rather than roses. He terminates the letter by telling him that his public avocations will not admit of more than a flying trip to Mount Vernon this summer, and that this not suiting Mrs. Washington he has taken a house in Germantown [the vicinity of Philadelphia] to avoid the heat of Philadelphia in July and August, and that Mrs. Washington, Nelly [one of the Miss Custi's], and the rest of the family united with him in every good wish for his health, prosperity, and safe return; and he begs him to be "assured of the sincerity with which he was and always should be his affectionate friend, G.W."

Mount Vernon, August 5, 1795. Mr. Lear had got back from England and was now residing in Georgetown or its neighborhood. The present letter incloses him a power of attorney to vote on the General's shares in the Potomac Company at a meeting of its stockholders to be held on the day following, in Georgetown. He says he would be there himself to vote in person if possible; but that having sent to the post-office in Alexandria every day since Friday for letters without receiving any from any of the officers of the government, he might probably receive a great accumulation of them on the day following [which was again Friday, and a post day], to which he would have to give his attention and prepare answers. It was therefore that he sent the power of attorney to meet the contingency of his not being present. This power of attorney was in his own handwriting.

Philadelphia, March 13, 1796. There are brief letters since the above that touch on private business. In this of the 13th of March, 1796, alluding to his pecuniary affairs, he says, that for the few years he has to remain here, the enjoyment of less, with more ease and certainty, will be more convenient to him, and more desirable; had his resources been adequate to it, he would have purchased the lot and houses in Alexandria which Mr. Lear pointed out; but that as his resources depended on contingencies that might baffle his calculations, he chose to tread on sure ground in all his engagements, being as unwilling to embarrass others by uncertain contracts as to be deceived himself in his expectations.

Philadelphia, April 29, 1796. This is one of a few lines in which he requests Mr. Lear's acceptance of some garden seeds for his garden and farm. They were portions of some sent to him from England to be planted at Mount Vernon.

Philadelphia, November 16, 1796. This relates to the sale of some of his agricultural produce, and to the disappointments he had experienced in payments promised to him.

Mount Vernon, March 25, 1797. The General is now relieved from all public duties and cares. On the 3d of March of this year he ceased to be President by voluntarily retiring from the post after writing that farewell address which a British historian has pronounced unequalled by any composition of uninspired wisdom. He is now a private citizen returned to his country estate at Mount Vernon on the banks of the Potomac. Mr. Lear is in Georgetown. In this letter to him of the 25th of March '97, he speaks of plans for repairing and refitting his ancient and loved home; but adds that in that rural vicinity he finds difficulty in getting proper workmen, and requests Mr. Lear's aid in procuring some from Georgetown, or the new "Federal City," [as Washington at that day was usually called.] Skill and dispatch would be necessary qualifications, and he thinks that his "Old Sergeant Cornelius" might do for one of the workmen. It seems that this person had been heard of in those parts, and he adds that he would give him the preference as knowing his temper and industry.

Not long, however, is he permitted to remain a private citizen reposing at Mount Vernon amidst all its endearments. The next succeeding year finds him again summoned by his country to her service. At the eager solicitation of the government, the elder Adams then being President, and Mr. Adams' own desire being seconded by the nation's voice, he was prevailed upon to accept the supreme command of the Army during the difficulties and even quasi-war that had risen up with our old ally, France. He accepted on condition of receiving no pay or emolument until actually called into the field. Nevertheless this conditional acceptance threw upon him burdensome duties. It exposed him to "many official calls, to a heavy correspondence, and to a flow of company." It is so he expresses himself. In this conjuncture he writes to his attached friend and faithful secretary Mr. Lear. Under date of August the second, 1798, from Mount Vernon, he describes to him those fresh duties as hindrances to putting his private affairs in that order so necessary before he embarked in new scenes; it being his desire, before quitting the scene of human action, to leave his concerns in such a condition as to give as little trouble as possible to those who would have the management of them afterwards. Under this view of his situation he had written to the Secretary of War to be informed whether he was at liberty to appoint his secretary, who should be entitled to the usual and proper allowances; and concludes with asking Mr. Lear if he would join him in that capacity if the Secretary of War answered in the affirmative. Mr. Lear assents.

This is the last letter in the series. I learn from Mrs. Lear that others not in this collection, bespeaking a high degree of intimacy and confidence, were written to her husband by the same hand. This may well be conceived when it is known that Mr. Lear's connection with this illustrious man began prior to the year '86, and continued until his death in '99; that he was at his bedside when he died, and drew up the authentic narrative, which was verified by the physicians, of his last illness, from its commencement to the closing scene. This was published at that time to meet the anxious feelings of his mourning countrymen, struck down at first by his death as by a shock that went through every heart.

From one of the letters there dropped out, as I unfolded it, a slip in Mr. Lear's handwriting, dated May the first, 1791, containing the copy of a message to General Washington from Lord Cornwallis, of which Captain Truxton had been the bearer from the East Indies. His lordship, whom Captain Truxton had seen there, being then Governor General of India. "congratulated General Washington on the establishment of a happy government in his country, and congratulated the country on the accession of General Washington to its Chief Magistracy." The message wished "General Washington a long enjoyment of tranquillity and happiness," adding that, for himself (Lord C.), he "continued in troubled waters."

I have thus noticed succinctly, perhaps I might more appropriately say described, these letters. In abridging and connecting the train of them, Washington's language is used to the extent that will be seen. The style is different from that of his official productions and other letters of his voluminous correspondence. He naturally stepped into one more familiar when writing to a confidential friend on family matters relating to his home at Mount Vernon, or as it was to be arranged in Philadelphia while he was President. But the style has the directness and sincerity of all his writings. It is apparent that the letters are written without reserve. With two or three exceptions, no copies appear to have been kept; yet everything is frank and straight-forward. Understanding human nature thoroughly under all its phases, he deals wisely with men in small things as in great; but he does no one injustice. When others are acting disingenuously towards him, though seeing through it, he is considerate and forbearing, not taking steps hastily, but ready to make allowances where they could be made. Dishonesty or suspicion of it he never overlooks. In the second letter he suspects his steward of extravagance in spending too much for supplies of the table kept for his upper servants; yet he authorizes Mr. Lear to retain him, if, on looking into his accounts, he finds him honest; intimating that any successor to him might act in the same way, and a dismissal might be only a change without a benefit. His reprobation of all dishonesty is seen in more than one of the letters, as well as his restrained modes of dealing with it whilst affecting only his own interests.

As regards the minutiae seen in the letters; the details respecting his house, furniture, servants, carriages, horses, postilions, and so on, these will be read with curiosity and interest. They suggest a new test by which to try Washington, and let him be tried by it. We have not before had such details from himself. It is for the first time the curtain has been so lifted.

All great men, the very greatest, Caesar, Cromwell, Napoleon, Frederick, Peter the Great, Marlborough, Alexander, all on the long list of towering names, have had contact with small things. No pinnacle in station, no supremacy in excellence or intellect, can exempt man from this portion of his lot. It is a human necessity. Washington goes into this sphere with a propriety and seemliness not always observable in others of his high cast, but often signally the reverse. In dealing with small things, he shows no undue tenacity of opinion; no selfishness; no petulance; no misplaced excitements. He never plays the petty tyrant. He does not forget himself; he does not forget others; he assumes nothing from any exaltation in himself, but is reasonable and provident in all his domestic and household arrangements.

Shall we seek for comparisons, or rather contrasts? With as much of Washington's domestic portraiture before us as these letters hold up, shall we turn to look at others? There is no difficulty, but in selecting from the vast heap.

Frederick thought coffee too expensive an indulgence for common use in his kingdom, saying he was himself reared on beer soup, which was surely good enough for peasants and common fellows, as he called his people. He wrote directions to his different cooks with his own hand the better to pamper his appetite with every variety of the dishes and sauces he liked best. He stinted Voltaire in sugar while a guest in his palace, or gave it to him cheap and bad. He praised him face to face, and ridiculed him behind his back. Napoleon played blind-man's buff at St. Helena. He lost his temper at his coronation on perceiving that some of the princesses of his family who were to act as trainbearers were not in their right places. Caesar was versed in all the ceremonials of State. It was said that he would even have been a perfect Roman gentleman but for a habit of putting one of his fingers in his hair. Yet such a master of forms gave grave offence to the Roman Senate by not rising when they intended him a compliment; so unwise was he in small things. Cromwell in a frolic threw a cushion at Ludlow, who in turn threw one at him. He bedaubed with ink the face of one of the justices, who, with Cromwell himself, had just been condemning Charles to the block. Peter the Great travelled about with a pet monkey, which unceremoniously jumped upon the King of England's shoulder when the latter visited the Czar in London. Some great men have played leap-frog; some practised this affectation, some that. The book of history records too amply the child-like diversions among those who have flourished on the summits of renown. We hear of none of this in Washington; no idle whimsies, no studied or foolish eccentricities; none of the buffoonery of ripe years. They were not in him; or if they were, self-discipline extirpated them, as it did the bad ambition and moral callousness that have disfigured too many of the great names of the earth, ancient and modern; whilst his matchless purity and deathless deeds raise him above them all. This verdict is already more than half pronounced by the most enlightened and scrutinizing portions of mankind, and time is silently extending its domain as he is longer tried by the parallels of history, and by the philosophy of greatness itself.

Before his fame, steadily ascending from its adamantine foundation, gave signs that it was to encircle the globe, some imagined him too prudent. Some thought him devoid of sensibility; a cold, colossal mass, intrenched in taciturnity, or enfolded in a mantle of dignity. The sequel disclosed that his complete mastery over passion, moving in harmony with his other powers and faculties, lent its essential aid towards his unrivalled name. Opinion and passion were strong in him. The latter existed in vehemence; but he put the curb upon it, turning it into right directions, and excluding it otherwise from influence upon his conduct. He stifled his dislikes; he was silent under sneers and disparaging innuendoes lest inopportune speech might work injury to the great cause confided to him. To the success of that cause he looked steadily and exclusively. It absorbed his whole soul, and he determined to concentrate upon it all his forbearance as well as energy. The complicated dangers which encompassed it he knew, from his position, sooner and better than others; but he would not make them public, lest the foe might hear them, or others whose prepossessions were unfriendly; preferring that temporary odium should rest upon himself. Therefore his reserve; and thus it was that the grand results of his life came out in manifold blessings to his country; thus it was that some at first distrustful, and others long distrustful, of his superiority, came to admit it in the end. Be it added, that his native good sense teaching him the value of social restraint, and his knowledge of the world, its approved observances in intercourse, the tone of the gentleman on its best models ever also graced his public glory.

An anecdote I derived from Colonel Lear shortly before his death in 1816, may here be related, showing the height to which his passion would rise yet be controlled. It belongs to his domestic life which I am dealing with, having occurred under his own roof, whilst it marks public feeling the most intense, and points to the moral of his life. I give it in Colonel Lear's words as nearly as I can, having made a note of them at the time.

Towards the close of a winter's day in 1791, an officer in uniform was seen to dismount in front of the President's in Philadelphia, and, giving the bridle to his servant, knock at the door of his mansion. Learning from the porter that the President was at dinner, he said he was on public business and had dispatches for the President. A servant was sent into the dining-room to give the information to Mr. Lear, who left the table and went into the hall where the officer repeated what he had said. Mr. Lear replied that, as the President's Secretary, he would take charge of the dispatches and deliver them at the proper time. The officer made answer that he had just arrived from the western army, and his orders were to deliver them with all promptitude, and to the President in person; but that he would wait his directions. Mr. Lear returned, and in a whisper imparted to the President what had passed. General Washington rose from the table, and went to the officer. He was back in a short time, made a word of apology for his absence, but no allusion to the cause of it. He had company that day. Everything went on as usual. Dinner over, the gentlemen passed to the drawing-room of Mrs. Washington, which was open in the evening. The General spoke courteously to every lady in the room, as was his custom. His hours were early, and by ten o'clock all the company had gone. Mrs. Washington and Mr. Lear remained. Soon Mrs. Washington left the room.

The General now walked backward and forward slowly for some minutes without speaking. Then he sat down on a sofa by the fire, telling Mr. Lear to sit down. To this moment there had been no change in his manner since his interruption at table. Mr. Lear now perceived emotion. This rising in him, he broke out suddenly, "It's all over--St. Clair's defeated--routed;--the officers nearly all killed, the men by wholesale; the route complete--too shocking to think of--and a surprise into the bargain!"

He uttered all this with great vehemence. Then he paused, got up from the sofa and walked about the room several times, agitated but saying nothing. Near the door he stopped short and stood still a few seconds, when his wrath became terrible.

"Yes," he burst forth, "HERE on this very spot, I took leave of him; I wished him success and honor; you have your instructions, I said, from the Secretary of War, I had a strict eye to them, and will add but one word--BEWARE OF A SURPRISE. I repeat it, BEWARE OF A SURPRISE--you know how the Indians fight us. He went off with that as my last solemn warning thrown into his ears. And yet!! to suffer that army to be cut to pieces, hack'd, butchered, tomahawk'd, by a surprise--the very thing I guarded him against!! O God, O God, he's worse than a murderer! how can he answer it to his country;--the blood of the slain is upon him--the curse of widows and orphans--the curse of Heaven!"

This torrent came out in tones appalling. His very frame shook. It was awful, said Mr. Lear. More than once he threw his hands up as he hurled imprecations upon St. Clair. Mr. Lear remained speechless; awed into breathless silence.

The roused Chief sat down on the sofa once more. He seemed conscious of his passion, and uncomfortable. He was silent. His warmth beginning to subside, he at length said in an altered voice: "This must not go beyond this room." Another pause followed--a longer one--when he said in a tone quite low, "General St. Clair shall have justice; I looked hastily through the dispatches, saw the whole disaster but not all the particulars; I will receive him without displeasure; I will hear him without prejudice; he shall have full justice."

He was now, said Mr. Lear, perfectly calm. Half an hour had gone by. The storm was over; and no sign of it was afterwards seen in his conduct or heard in his conversation. The result is known. The whole case was investigated by Congress. St. Clair was exculpated and regained the confidence Washington had in him when appointing him to that command. He had put himself into the thickest of the fight and escaped unhurt, though so ill as to be carried on a litter, and unable to mount his horse without help.

A passage from one of Mr. Jefferson's letters which the historian Sparks records, may here be given, as its spirit covers the private as well as public life of Washington. Mr. Jefferson withdrew his services as Secretary of State from the administration of Washington towards the close of his first term in the Presidency. His retirement from that post took place when party spirit was violent and bitter in the extreme; never was it more so in the annals of our country; and it was known that he had differed from Washington on political questions of the greatest importance. Nevertheless, writing of him at a later period Mr. Jefferson says: "His integrity was most pure; his justice the most inflexible I have ever known; no motives of interest or consanguinity, of friendship or hatred, being able to bias his decision. He was, indeed, in every sense of the word, a wise, a good, and a great man."