the electric forces of party spirit, subtle and implacal le, had cast down, from the black clouds of selfish hate, a copious hail of abuse. But amid all that storm-in the face of those fierce blasts and that pelting hail, Washington stood calm, dignified, and unharmed; and he approached the hour when he should be no longer & public servant, to be applauded or reviled, with that serenity of mind which nothing but a conscience void of offence toward God and man can impart. And yet he was not always unmoved by the ungenerous attacks of his enemies. To his long-tried and dearly-loved friend, General Knox, then in the far east, he wrote, two days before his retirement:

"To the wearied traveller who sees a resting-place, and is bending his body to lean thereon, I now compare myself; but to be suffered to do this in peace is too much to be endured by some. To misrepresent my motives, to reprobate my politics, and to weaken the confidence which has been reposed in my administration, are objects which cannot be relinquished by those who will be satisfied with nothing short of a change in our political system. The consolation, however, which results from conscious rectitude, and the approving voice of my country, unequivocally expressed by its representatives, deprive their sting of its poison, and place in the same point of view the weakness and malignity of their efforts."

Never since has the unscrupulous virulence of party spirit been so manifest as at the time in question. No one dared openly to charge Washington with a dishonest or dishonorable act, during his long public life; and yet, by inuendos and falsehoods of the darkest aspect, disguised as insinuations, his political enemies attempted to destroy his popularity, and to

send him into private life without the sweet consolations of the approval of his countrymen.

One specimen of the venom of party hate will be sufficient to illustrate the remarks just made. I quote from a correspondent of the Aurora, a Philadelphia paper in opposition to Washington's administration. The number containing the following article was printed three days after the President's retirement from office:

"Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation,' was the pious ejaculation of a man who beheld a flood of happiness rushing upon mankind. If ever there was a time that would license the reiteration of the exclamation, that time is now arrived; for the man who is the source of all the misfortunes of our country, is this day reduced to a level with his fellow-citizens, and is no longer possessed of power to multiply evils upon the United States. If ever there was a period for rejoicing, this is the moment; every heart in unison with the freedom and happiness of the people, ought to beat high with exultation that the name of WASHINGTON, from this day, ceases to give a currency to political iniquity, and to legalize corruption. A new era is now opening upon us, an era which promises much to the people; for public measures must now stand upon their own merits, and nefarious projects can no longer be supported by a name. When a retrospect is taken of the Washingtonian administration for eight years, it is a subject of the greatest astonishment that a single individual should have cankered the principles of republicanism in an enlightened people, just emerged from the gulf of despotism, and should have carried his designs against the public liberty so far, as to have put in jeopardy its

very existence. Such however are the facts, and with these staring us in the face, this day ought to be a JUBILEE in the United States."

How utterly impotent were such attempts to injure the character of Washington, let history testify.

On the 3d of March, 1797, Washington gave a farewell dinner, to which many of the leading persons at the seat of government were invited. These were chiefly the officers of government and members of the diplomatic corps, with their wives. Bishop White, whose sister was the wife of Robert Morris, was present, and described some of the events of the banquet.

"During the dinner," wrote the bishop, "much hilarity prevailed; but on the removal of the cloth, it was put an end to by the President-certainly without design. Having filled his glass, he addressed the company, with a smile on his countenance, saying, 'Ladies and gentlemen, this is the last time I shall drink your health as a public man. I do it with sincerity, and wishing you all possible happiness.' There was an end to all hilarity; and the cheeks of Mrs. Liston, wife of the British minister, were wet with tears."

On the following day John Adams, who had been elected Washington's successor, was inaugurated the second President of the United States. The event took place in the Hall of the Representatives, which was densely crowded with spectators. At the appointed hour Washington rode to Congress Hall in his coach, drawn by six horses, and, amidst the most enthusi astic cheers, entered the room prepared for the ceremonies which were to release him from public life. He was followed by Mr. Adams, and when they were seated, perfect silence prevailed. Washington then arose, and with the most commanding dig.

nity and self-control, introduced Mr. Adams to the assembly, and proceeded to read, in a firm, clear voice, a brief valedictory.

"The most profound silence greeted him," says a still living eye and ear witness of the august event, "as if the great assembly desired to hear him breathe, and catch his breath in homage of their hearts. Mr. Adams covered his face with both his hands; the sleeves of his coat and his hands were covered with tears." As he pronounced his parting words, a sob was heard here and there in the assembly; and when he sat down, the whole audience were in tears. "Then," says the eye-witness just quoted, "when strong nervous sobs broke loose, when tears covered the faces, then the great man was shaken. I never took my eyes from his face. Large drops fell from his cheeks."

The late President Duer, of Columbia College, who was present on that occasion, says that when Washington left the hall, there was "a rush from the gallery that threatened the lives of those who were most eager to catch a last look of him who, among mortals, was the first object of their veneration." "Some of us," he said, "effected an escape by slipping down the pillars."

When Washington had entered his carriage, the multitude in the streets uttered long and loud huzzas, and he waved his hand in return.

"I followed him," says Duer, "in the crowd to his own door, where, as he turned to address the multitude, his countenance assumed a serious and almost melancholy expression, his voice failed him, his eyes were suffused with tears, and only by his gestures could he indicate his thanks, and convey a farewell blessing to the people

"

In the evening a splendid entertainment was given to the retiring President, by the inhabitants of Philadelphia, in the Amphitheatre, which was beautifully decorated with appropriate paintings. One of the newspapers of the day thus describes a compliment that was paid to Washington on that occasion:

"Upon entering the area the General was conducted to his seat. On a signal given, the band played Washington's March, and a scene, which represented simple objects in the rear of the principal seat, was drawn up and discovered emblematical paintings. The principal was a female figure as large as life, representing America, seated on an elevation composed of sixteen marble steps. At her left side stood the federal shield and eagle, and at her feet lay the cornucopia; in her right hand she held the Indian calumet of peace supporting the cap of liberty; in the perspective appeared the temple of fame; and, on her left hand, an altar dedicated to public grat. itude, upon which incense was burning. In her left hand she held a scroll inscribed Valedictory; and at the foot of the altar lay a plumed helmet and sword, from which a figure of General Washington, as large as life, appeared retiring down the steps, pointing with his right hand to the emblems of power which he had resigned, and with his left to a beautiful landscape representing Mount Vernon, in front of which oxen were seen harnessed to the plough. Over the General appeared a genius, placing a wreath of laurels on his head."

These pictures were from the pencil of Charles Willson Peale, who, twenty-five years before, as we have observed, had painted the portrait of Washington at Mount Vernon, in the costume of a Virginia colonel.