1789.]

DEATH OF THE MOTHER.

443

candid opinion as to the probable termination of his disease, adding, with that placid firmness which marked his address, 'Do not flatter me with vain hopes; I am not afraid to die, and therefore can bear the worst.' Dr. Bard's answer, though it expressed hope, acknowledged his apprehensions. The President replied,

Whether to-night or twenty years hence makes no difference; I know that I am in the hands of a good Providence."

Before the President had entirely recovered, he received intelligence of the illness and death of his aged mother, of whom he had taken a tender leave when he set out to assume the presidency, feeling that he should probably never see her more.

It is said that at this last parting, Washington, embracing his mother, bowed his head upon her shoulder and wept, murmuring at the same time something of a hope that they should meet again. "No, George," she replied, "this is our last parting; my days to come are few. But go, fulfil your high duties, and may God bless and keep you."

His mother was then dying of the cancer which at last put a painful end to her life, at the age of eightytwo. Honored as she deserved to be, and showing to the last the resolution and fortitude which had distinguished her through life, she descended to the grave with dignity, and left a name far above all titles. To have been the mother of Washington was enough. The world has agreed to consider some of his noblest traits as derived

from her; and to her steadiness of character, her sound, common-sense views, her high and stern morality, and her deep sense of religious responsibility, are undoubtedly due a large part of the illustrious virtues which made her son what he was. She hated glare and hollowness, and so, from first to last, did he. His love of fame had no reference to such reputation as is fortuitous and unearned. He would at any time take more pains to get rid of a credit which did not belong to him, than to vindicate his title to any honor that was his due. Truth, solidity, transparency, modesty; a pride not inconsistent with deep humility, and a love of reputation which never glanced toward any sacrifice of principle, -these were the traits of the son, "known and read of all men ;" and, accepting, in some measure, a traditionary estimate of the mother, these are they which all the world agrees to give her credit for. Woman cannot ask a more generous construction of facts, or a nobler encouragement to virtue. If we are to be judged by the virtues of our sons, what preparation, attention, or sacrifice can be too much for a mother? Too often their weakness, their vice, the poverty or shame of their career, is laid at our door; but here is at least one instance, that when their virtues are eminent, mankind is just and candid enough to remember that in this direction too, the mother's forming power should be recognized.

As soon as the President's health was restored, after the severe attack we have mentioned, he made

1789.]

SHARP PASSAGES.

445

a long-intended tour through the Eastern States, travelling in his own chariot, attended on horseback by his secretaries. Showing what very trifles may disturb the equanimity of great people, there was a misunderstanding on some point of etiquette, as the President approached Boston, which seems to have thrown both him and the excellent Governor of Massachusetts, John Hancock,-" the most generous and disinterested of men,"-off their usual balance a little, and occasioned some sharp passages between them. The Governor had written, inviting the President to make his house his home while in Boston, which invitation. the President courteously declined, urging his invariable rule never to burden any private family in that way. The Governor then changed the invitation to one for a family dinner, which the President accepted.

But the public reception of the President was to intervene. For this Governor Hancock had made what he considered very satisfactory arrangements, but unhappily the Selectmen of the town of Boston had made other, and quite different ones. Both desired to pay the highest honors to the illustrious guest, but each chose to manage the matter in their own way.

When the President was approaching the town, the dispute was at its height. Both authorities held back, while messengers were posting between them. The day was cold and disagreeable; the President sat shivering on his horse, on Boston Neck, waiting to enter the town in due form. He inquired the cause of the delay, and

expressed impatience when he heard what it was. Turning to his secretary, he asked whether there was no other avenue to the town; and was in the act of turning his horse's head, when he was informed that the difficulty was accommodated. All this because the Governor claimed the honor of receiving the President, while the Selectmen considered it their privilege.

We have noticed this little flurry, partly because it is amusing, and partly to show how sensitive the new governments were on the score of etiquette, while all was yet in a forming state, and each trivial affair assumed an importance not its own, but only as a seed of the future. Matters of etiquette always have a certain significance, and are often therefore more important than they seem. It was on this ground that Washington was, as a public man, rather punctilious; in his private character ceremony was burdensome to him; he loved simplicity and directness, and that bonhommie which takes it for granted that every body behaves as well as he knows how; but where the public interest or official dignity was in question, he quite enraged forward or ill-bred people, sometimes, by the pertinacity with which he adhered to established forms. When at home at Mount Vernon, he was equally resolute against ceremonious restraints.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

Presidential tour-A careless groom-Observations on the country-Internal improvements-Washington's desire to resign-The remonstrances of his friends -His re-election-Difficulties with France-Jay's Treaty-Citizen Genet-Retirement of Washington.

IN 1791 the President made a tour through the Southern States, travelling in twelve weeks about nineteen hundred miles, with the same horses. This shows the care and judgment which he always exercised where his horses were concerned; for nothing less than his knowledge of the animal and his consideration for its well-being, could have enabled him to accomplish such a journey. He always looked after his horses himself, daily ascertained their condition, and gave particular directions to the stablemen for their management.

It is traditionally said that he once, with a good deal of unction, tried the stirrup-leather on the shoulders of a groom who had left a favorite horse uncared for, after Washington had ridden him pretty hard on the preceding evening. The servant thought he would be up so early that his master would never find out the omission; but Washington was too prompt for him, and