Philadelphia, and that his reception at that place, at the time mentioned, would be perfectly convenient and agreeable to himself. He is a young man, very free and easy in his manners, professes to be well disposed toward the United States, and, as far as a judgment can be formed on so short an acquaintance, appears to be well informed.”

The Spanish minister had not been long in Philadelphia when he became enamored of Sally, the beautiful daughter of Thomas M'Kean, the chief-justice of Pennsylvania, and they were married. Their son, the Duke of Sotomayer, who was born in Philadelphia, became prime minister of Spain.

"Philadelphia," says Griswold, "furnished wives for the envoys of France, England, and Spain during Washington's administration, and a large number of foreign ministers have since been married to American women." Genet, the French minister during Washington's first term, married a daughter of Governor Clinton, of New York.

Washington remained at Mount Vernon until the middle of August. During the time of this visit to his dearly-loved home, he completed the final draft of his Farewell Address to the people of the United States, prepared in contemplation of his retiring from public life forever, at the close of his term of office the ensuing spring. That address had been the subject of deep and anxious thought for many months, and at the special request of the President, Hamilton, Jay, and Madison, and perhaps others, had given him suggestions in writing, topical and verbal. These he took with him to Mount Vernon, and in the quiet of his library he arranged his address in the form and expression in which it was published in September following. It was the noblest production of Washington's

mind and heart, and has been pronounced by Alison, the eminent British historian, unequalled by any composition of uninspired wisdom. It is a political legacy which not only the countrymen of Washington, but the world ought to value, as one of the most precious gifts ever bestowed by man upon. his race. It is permeated with the immortal spirit of a true MAN, a true PATRIOT, and a true CHRISTIAN.

The Farewell Address was published in the Philadelphia Advertiser, in September, 1796, and produced a most profound sensation. The ribald voice of party spirit, which had been for a long time uttering the most scandalous abuse concerning the President, was at once subdued in tone, if not silenced, for it was deprived of the theme of Washington's renomination, which had been a convenient excuse for partisan attacks. The address was entered at length upon the journals of several of the state legislatures; was published in every newspaper in the land, and in many of those in foreign countries; and in legislative bodies and social and diplomatic circles abroad, it was a fruitful topic of remark for some time. Of all the associations which cluster around Mount Vernon, none should be dearer to the heart of every American-to every friend of freedom and good order-than that connected with WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDRESS.

And now Washington calmly looked forward to his retirement from public life with a heart full of joy and gratitude. The eight years of his administration of public affairs had been years of immense toil, anxiety, and vexation. They had been stormy years, for blasts of disturbing and dangerous sentiments came frequently from the borders of the hurricane that swept so terribly over France, the old ally of the United States; and

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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 a 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:

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"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