A funeral sermon, preached in Newark, December 27, 1799. A day of public mourning, observed by the town, for the universally lamented, General Washington, late president of the United States. Who died the fourteenth of the same month. : To which is subjoined, his last address, to his beloved countrymen. : [Two lines of Latin text] / By Alexander Macwhorter, D.D. Pastor of the First Presbyterian Church in Newark.

A FUNERAL SERMON, DELIVERED IN NEWARK, DEC. 27, 1799. BY ALEXANDER MACWHORTER, D. D.

MY DEAR FRIENDS AND FELLOW CITIZENS,

THROUGHOUT a ministerial life of more than forty-one years, I never stood in the sacred desk with so much reluctance, as on the present occasion.—The object, you wish to be eulogized, and to be portrayed in all the colours and dark shades of weeping sorrow, is far beyond my feeble pencil, and trembling hand.—It seemed to me impossible, either to evade, or decently excuse my self from a compliance with the honorable and solicitous request of my respected Townsmen.—But, it is now too late to offer unavailing apology.

THE text I have selected as the theme for our mournful me|ditations, you find recorded in

DEUT. XXXIV. 5. So Moses the Servant of the Lord died.

WASHINGTON the great!—WASHINGTON the admired!— WASHINGTON the beloved!—is no more.—Doleful the sound! —Painful the thought!—How extensive is the stroke!—How deep the wound!—A nation groans—clothes herself in sable weeds—and pours forth the bitterest lamentations—Sorrow fills

the heart, and a melancholy sadness broods on every counte|nance.

BUT, while we pay the just tribute of mourning, in honor of the deceased, and shed the tear of sympathetic woe, let us re|member as men and christians, that the Lord God Almighty lives;—He sits at the head of the universe;—directs all events throughout his extensive dominions in infinite wisdom and good|ness.—

A sparrow falls not to the ground without the notice of our heavenly Father, and the hairs of our heads are all num|bered with him.

IT cannot be expected that the character of this eminent man can be portrayed at this time.—The genius of the poet, and the energetic eloquence of the orator would fail in the great attempt: how far then must my feeble powers shrink from daring such an undertaking.—Poets and orators will no doubt exert all their learned abilities upon this subject; but, it is the simple retail of the historic page, which alone will be able to do justice to a life so extraordinary.

ALL we shall pretend to, on this mournful day, will only be,— to touch upon a few of the outlines of some of his virtues,—some of his more prominent excellencies,—and direct our minds to such christian reflections, as may be a proper improvement of this gloomy dispensation of divine providence.

THIS distinguished personage shone conspicuously in a multi|tude of the private virtues.—It is recorded of Moses, and given as a summary of his private character;

That he was very meek above all the men which were upon the face of the earth.

— So with regard to him, the laws of meekness, kindness and bene|volence ever dwelt upon his lips. And for many years Mount Vernon has appeared to be the residence of hospitality, liberality and charity. What thousands, and thousands have experienced

the blessings of his beneficent hand?—What Job, in ancient times, the greatest man in all the East, declared, with respect to him|self, may with striking propriety be applied to him. He

de|livered the poor that cried, and the fatherless, and him that had none to help him.

He

caused the widow's heart to sing for joy.

Yea, he "was a father to the poor." He

broke the jaws of the wicked, and plucked the spoil out of his teeth.

He

witheld not the poor from their desire, or caused the eyes of the widow to fail, or eat his morsel alone.

* 1.1

ONE thing very remarkable in him, and was often observed by

his friends; how it was possible for a man, whose mind was full of cares, perplexities, embarrassments, and great concerns, to attend at all times, with the graces of the politest ease, to the various minu|tiae of what is stiled good breeding, or the accomplished gentleman.* 1.2

HIS capacious mind was not only formed for the grand arts of war, policy, and legislation, but it comprehended the common arts of life to an exceeding high degree. He was one of the most skillful and successful husbandmen in his country. He not only cultivated, and improved his own farm in the most ad|vantageous and beautiful manner, but he greatly improved the farms of his neighbours in various parts around him by his ex|ample and by his instruction. So that in this line, he might be stiled, a compleat farmer.

BESIDES this, he had a polished taste for many of the fine arts, and for the graces of certain branches of polite literature. He exceeded the most of men in epistolary writing. The volumes of his letters, which have been published will remain a standing mo|nument of his exalted accomplishments in this respect. The world has been stunned for ages with encomiums upon the epis|tles of Cicero and Pliny, as models of perfection in this species of learning; but, let them be compared with the former, I must be strangely mistaken, if their glory will not extremely suffer, and probably be totally overshadowed by the experiment.† 1.3

HE wrote with amazing facility and readiness; communicat|ed his ideas with the greatest precision, perspecuity and energy. Oftentimes during the late war, he had to direct and correct in various instances the proceedings of Congress. By the stretch of his sagacity and superiority of knowledge he frequently flashed conviction upon the minds of that great house, eminent for wis|dom and understanding, so as to induce them to adopt his mea|sures, and alter or relinquish their own. His labors in writing in that perilous period were immense; and were there not the most incontrovertible evidences thereof, would seem to exceed all credibility. His military orders, his letters to Congress, &c. compose more than thirty volumes in folio, which are preserved in the national archives.

LET us now contemplate this great man in his military char|acter. With justice it may be said, "He was a man of war from his youth." When he was very young, he girded on the sword, and entered the martial field for the defence and protection of his country. In the beginning of what is called, The last French War, the French and Indians made incursions into the frontiers of Virginia. Young Washington, with a few militia companies of about three hundred men, immediately flew into the wilder|ness to repel the invading aggressors. The enemy were nume|rous

far beyond his expectation. The advanced and reconnoi|tering parties had skirmished. He determined, if possible, to check the enemy's progress. For this purpose he threw up a hasty and trifling fortification, in a place in that country called a glade or savannah, which is a space of flat ground destitute of trees, and generally of shrubbery. This wise manoeuvre was to oblige the enemy to leave their coverts and their trees, and make the attack in the open plain. The enemy, conscious of their vast superiority, consisting of nine hundred French, besides Indians, sure of conquest, rushed furiously to the assault. They were firmly received, and the action became severe and dreadful. More than half of Washington's corps was slain by his side, and more than twice that number of the enemy fell. The final con|clusion of this bloody scene was, that the French commander, finding with what brave and desperate men he had to deal, of|fered him an honorable capitulation, which Washington accept|ed, and nobly marched off with the honors of war.—Although he lost the field, yet he gained what was equal to a victory, by arresting the progress of the enemy, and covering the frontier settlements. His conduct, his bravery, and his military genius displayed at that time, acquired for him great renown, and turn|ed the attention of the public mind towards him. This was the beginning of that astonishing martial fame, to which in process of time he arrived.* 1.4

THE campaign of the following year, according to my re|collection, when Gen. Braddock, a veteran English officer, with a respectable European army under his command, accompanied with strong colonial additions, marched for the purpose of des|troying Fort Du Quesne, (now Fort Pitt) and driving the ene|my from that quarter; exterminating them from our territory, and giving deliverance to an extensive frontier of our country.

AT this period our rising hero was only a common aid in the general's family. This mighty European, utterly ignorant of the wiles and prowess of the foe, plunged precipitately forward, leaving part of his army far in his rear, soon fell into an Ambus|cade. He himself was killed, and his forces routed by an enemy perhaps, he never saw. At this awful crisis, young Washington burst forth, flew to the head of the colonial troops, which the general had contemptuously put in the rear, aroused them from their panic, rallied them, and understanding the Indian mode of warfare, impeded, checked and baffled the progress of the enemy, covered to admiration the retreat of an army of Britons, saved a multitude of lives from the scalping knife, and obtained for him|self immortal laurels. He received the thanks, the plaudits, and blessings of his country. And it has often been supposed by many▪ that if he had been general at that time, stripling as he was, the tide of the war would have been very different.—May we no•• say, that Braddock died as a fool dieth, but Washington received crowns of glory. * 1.5

FINALLY this French war came to a happy termination, great|ly to the advantage of Great Britain, the comfort of America, and the honor of both. And our youthful hero retired with dignity, and wreathed with laurels, to the silent walks of private life.

SOON after these important events, the British government ad|vanced doctrines and enacted laws, which struck death into our chartered rights, our colonial privileges, and just and long en|joyed liberties.

THE first instance of alarm was the ever memorable Stamp Act. This enkindled a flame of righteous, and universal oppo|sition in America against the parent country. Washington soon appeared among other high characters, as a distinguished oppo|nent to these unconstitutional measures.—After a short struggle, by the firm, united and determinate fortitude of the colonies, the offensive act was repealed.—Then the storm ceased and calmness and tranquility were restored. But this repeal was accompani|ed, with a horrid declaration,

That they had a right to bind (or tax) the colonies in all cases, whatsoever.

Which doc|trine, if put in practice, must have proved the extinguisher of every spark of liberty in this country. It was the fixed deter|mination of the Britons to reduce it to practice in some form or other. Hence presently came forward the fatal revenue acts. These rekindled the flame which blazed for some years; but by non-importation agreements, by remonstrances, and the deter|minate conduct of America, the all-grasping parliament, was ••gain forced to retreat, leaving only a duty upon tea. But we would import no teas from them, and while they kept them in ••heir own island, the flame of dissention did not burst forth into extreme violence. Yet, when they were resolved to open the ••ay for the taxation of America, and by an artful and circuitous ••••ute, thro' their East India company, would absolutely force ••heir teas upon us; We as absolutely and with indignity rejected

them. Their pride was then wrought up to almost intemperate fury, and nothing proceeded from them, but the demolition of charters, suspension acts, port bills, fishery bills, &c. In this mighty contest, before the shedding of blood, we find our belov|ed Washington making a leading and conspicuous figure, in committees, conventions and congresses. At last in the madness of their rage, they plunged the sword into our bowels, determin|ed to have our lives, or property, or both. Then our country was compelled to raise armies in their own defence, and to repel force by force. Immediately the eyes of congress were fixed on Washington, and he was duly appointed commander in chief.

AS Moses with timidity and reluctance obeyed the divine decree when he was ordered by heaven to go and put himself at the head of the chosen tribes, and deliver them from the fangs of a cruel tyrant, from bondage and slavery, lead them to liberty, and con|duct them to the promised land: so General Washington, when the high appointment was announced to him by the voice of Providence and the voice of his country, for the deliverance of these American tribes, with what struggles in his breast, with what fear and hesitation did he submit to the solemn undertaking? —When Moses once assumed the charge, he never murmured under all his burdens, toils and adverse trials, till he had accom|plished all that God intended by him: so, our American Moses, when once he had undertook the arduous task, we never find him murmuring or threatening to resign, even in the worst of times, or in the darkest and most perplexing seasons of adversity. He stedfastly persevered to the last, till he completely finished all the work requested of him by his country; till he had fully established for them their glorious INDEPENDENCE, and pre|cious LIBERTIES.

MOSES accomplished the emancipation of more than two mil|lions of people, and led them to exalted freedom and the glories

of independence. Our hero accomplished the emancipation of more than three millions of people and perfectly introduced them to the highest liberties, civil and sacred, and endowed them with privileges and advantages altogether incalculable.

WE do not read that Moses received any pecuniary reward from his people for all his services; so, our great leader and de|liverer would accept no compensation for all his mighty labors.

MOSES was the greatest and most successful general in remote antiquity; so Washington has been the most eminent, the most prosperous, and the most honored general in modern times.* 1.6

WE must not enter into the wonderful conduct of our illustri|ous general during an eight years war.† 1.7 To retail his sufferings, his manouvres, his stratagems, his sleepless nights and anxious days; his circumventing, out-generaling, worrying and morti|fying his enemies, would far exceed the limits of a contracted discourse.—One thing only ought not to pass unobserved, that whensoever he was foiled by the adversary, his defeats escaped

censure▪ and even by the shades of adversity, he obtained acqui|sitions to his fame.* 1.8

BEHOLD the days, the transporting days, of sweet and blissful peace, after an awful and tremendous conflict, arose and beamed upon this favored land; a land, like Canaan of old, in which the SUPREME delighted. Contemplate the great and honor|ed warrior with raptures of pleasure sheathing his sword, bidding a final adieu to war, and in tearful floods of love, gratitude and friendship, taking a last leave of his beloved officers and fellow-soldiers.† 1.9

ATTEND him now to Congress, and there returning his com|mission to the hands from which he received it, with an elated mind, and with the most tender, delicate, and pathetic speech. The scene was full of weeping 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and heartfelt sorrowful glad|ness. Behold the Congress, the venerable representative sages of our country, all bathed in tears on the happy occasion▪* 1.10

HERE the illustrious man, the patriot, and citizen shone forth in a greater effulgence of glory than he had ever done in the fields of his most brilliant victories. He was here more glorious than he was in that day, that great day, in which he triumphed over Lord Cornwallis and the whole British army.

WE now leave the Cincinnatus of the age returning in joyful pleasure to the peaceful walks of Mount Vernon, there to culti|vate again his farm, and all the sweet charities of domestic bliss.

THIS country soon felt to the centre, that the federal compact, which aided us through the war, was absolutely incapable of se|curing happiness to us in times of tranquility. State was taking the advantage of State, and all things were rapidly hurrying to discord and ruin. In this dreadful conjuncture of affairs, it was happily proposed that a convention should be called, to alter and amend that compact, or frame a new constitution. The con|vention of our wise men assembled; among whom Washington appears, compelled again by the suffrages of his State to forsake his delightful retirement, and to enter upon a new scene for the trial of his mental abilities; to consider of all governments in the world, which was the best; and to form a civil constitution for these United States most promotive of their happiness.

HE is the man immediately exalted to the chair of this grand convention. This council was called upon the most extraordina|ry business, and blessed with the most extraordinary success, while all America stood, in awful suspense, listening and wait|ing for their decissions. Such a civil body upon such great con|cerns had never assembled in our world from the creation of man, and perhaps, all circumstances taken into consideration, there never will be such another.—Here Washington, amidst his great compeers, acquired honor and applause in a new line; for his profound wisdom, his extensive and various knowledge, his ••ast ideas, his consummate prudence, and his immense powers of accommodation.

THE new constitution was framed, published, and adopted.—

BUT, who must be the personage, that would hazard himself, his reputation, and his all, to put this strange, this novel, and un|tried political machine into operation?—Washington is the man called upon by the universal and unanimous voice of the nation, to risk all his hard and well earned fame, and make the critical and dangerous experiment.

FOR the good of his country, which he always had at heart above all sublunary things, with struggles and perplexing diffi|culties in his own mind, and with shedding many tears, he no|bly abandons personal ease and domestic felicity, and bravely ventures to accept the helm of government, and ascend that thorny seat, the Presidential Chair.

HERE his great abilities, beyond the hope of his constituents, enabled him to acquit himself as usual, to the acquisition of new fame, and more accumulated honor; and to the shedding down peace, prosperity, riches, glory and innumerable blessings upon his beloved country. He served in this exalted station, he labo|riously served, like a second season of war, another eight long years, till he saw the government established, and promising a permanent duration; then he breathed for rest, like the weary labourer for the evening shade. He fervently requested his dear country not to elect him again to the dignity of the Presidency, but to suffer him to retire to his delightful solitude, as he found the declension of life approaching, and his setting sun fast hast|ening to the horizon.—His desire was honorably, though re|luctantly gratified.* 1.11

NOW comes on the most uncommon, interesting, and inde|scribable scene that probably ever took place under the sun.— The father of his country, the long tried, venerable and reve|rend father taking his last leave, bidding a final farewell, and delivering his dying speech to the dear sons, the beloved children of his country. This subject is too refined, too passionate, and sublime for me to touch. I refer you to the wonderful address itself, which will bye and bye be repeated to you. Your hearts must be of adamant and steel, if the big tears do not roll down the face, while it is pronounced. * 1.12

BUT, to what have I been persuading your attention?— To the deeds—to the life of a mortal or immortal man?— Alas! mortality is inscribed upon all things in this nether world. And man, however great, eminent, distinguished, or useful, must depart hence and be here no more. This is the last trait in every human character, he died. "So Moses, the servant of the Lord died." Moses, that favorite of heaven, the greatest general, legislator and statesman, the most useful friend to, and the father of his nation, died.—So, Washington, the famed war|rior, the mighty soldier, the illustrious magistrate, the great fa|ther of this American nation, the father, under God, of our in|dependence, liberties, privileges, flourishing commerce and pros|perity, is—how can I utter the word?—dead.— "How are the mighty fallen?—How are the mighty fallen?"—His great soul has burst the bands of mortality, disencumbered itself of this clay tabernacle, and winged its way into the world of spirits; and every American cries—"My father, my father, the cha|riots of Israel, and the horsemen thereof!"—

The Lord ac|cepteth

not the person of princes, nor regardeth the rich more than the poor, for they are all the work of his hands, and in a moment they shall die.

—Greatness, honor, and dignity cannot shield from death. The conqueror is conquered. And robes of state must give way to the shroud.—Admit here two lines of vast ideas from Dr. Young:

Death,—great proprietor of all! 'tis thine To tread out empires, and to quench the stars.

THE king of terrors cannot glut his insatiable maw with such another victim. Here we may take up the lamentation and say,

All flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass; the grass withereth, and the flower thereof falleth away.

—"Lord, what is man?"—What is the life even of superior men?—

It is a vapour, which appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth.

—Let us be silent—the righteous God hath done it.

THE death of this exalted personage ought to lead us to devout reflections, and to a wise and christian improvement thereof; that we, that our whole nation may be consoled under our sor|rows—not faint in the day of rebuke, but have our faith, our hope, our confidence strengthened in God, even in the living God.

THE first improvement we ought to make of this mournful providence is, to learn and practise the great duties of submission and resignation. Hath God, the just governor of the world, done it?—How should our mourning souls reply,

It is the Lord, let him do what seemeth him good?

Submission and resignation in unavoidable adversity are not only indispensable duties, but in the cultivation of them, there is much consolation. They apply balm to the wounded spirit, and shed abroad on the soul a sacred calmness, peace and tranquility. When in extreme

troubles, the heart can devoutly put up that petition taught us by our divine master, saying "Thy will be done." This happi|ly quells the tumults of our thoughts, detaches our affections from the transitory objects of the world, and elevates our minds to things celestial and unchangeable.

Let the potsherd strive with the potsherds of the earth, but woe unto him that striveth with his Maker.

We are extremely prone from the frailty of our nature, to murmur, repine, revolt against heaven, and indulge hard, unreasonable and unbecoming thoughts of a wise superintending providence. These things exhibit the selfishness and pride of our hearts, and that we would wish the Almighty under our controul, and that we were exalted above the charac|ter of dependent creatures. We should instantly expel them from our minds, and with the high priest of God in ancient times, be silent under the chastening of heaven; "Aaron held his peace." Or imbibe the spirit of mourning Job, and say,

The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord.

Christian resignation excludes despondercy.—That God who raised up a Washington, and furnished him with all those important and brilliant qualifications; rendered him such a blessing to mankind, and made him the father and saviour of his country, can and will raise up another, whenever he shall deem it expedient for the good of the world, and similar circumstances require it.

A second improvement, we and our land should make of this calamitous event, which has caused us to consecrate this day to mourning and sorrow is, to render gratitude to the Supreme Ru|ler of the Universe, that he enriched this country with his inval|uable life so long. We should offer upon this solemnity to in|dulgent and merciful heaven, souls full, running over, and pressed down, of grateful sentiments. I too well know it is in|cident to human nature, the longer we have possessed a precious blessing, and the more our hearts are attached to it, when the unhappy hour of its removal comes, the more we are prone to

murmur and complain. Even blessings, which in the enjoy|ment we cared but little for, when taken away, our feelings are apt to rise in resentment. These things, with a thousand others exhibit to view the exceeding great depth, subtle and tortuous na|ture of the moral corruption in the children of men. Alas! let a favorite object depart, and be everlastingly separated from us, how is gratitude, christian gratitude, for its long continuance, thrown into a very distant back ground.—You may think it strange I should preach gratitude upon this melancholy day; but were I preaching to his nearest connections, to the wife of his bosom overwhelmed in sorrow, and to all his tender domes|tics, pouring out their weeping souls around his hearse, I would preach to them, as a part of their duty, gratitude and thanks|giving as a principal source, from whence flow the refreshing streams of succor and consolation. Sure I am, if ever any people on earth had causes of gratitude, they stand at the head of the column of obligations. They have enjoyed a distinguished bles|sing for many years; they are enveloped in blessings now, and they have the afflicted hearts of a great nation condoling with them, and all the floods of tears flowing down the face of Co|lumbia, are flowing to their honor.

HIS exit has taken place at the most proper time and in the fittest manner. The God of all the earth is always doing that which is right.

WHAT if he had died at some forlorn period of our war with Britain?—Speaking after the manner of men, we would now have been groaning and wreathing under the mortifying yoke, which his life as the principal instrument under heaven has re|s••••ed us from.—What if he had died just at the adoption of our new constitution, when some states received it not, and mul|titudes in the adopting states opposed it?—All things in probability would have rushed into confusion, and this country been involved in all the horrors of domestic war.—State stood ready to draw

sword against state.—And nothing suspended or prevented the direful event, but deliberations upon a new constitution, and the seasonable adoption of the same. Had Washington been re|moved at this critical, doubtful and all-important time, let every rational mind conjecture the train of incalculable evils, which would have started into tremendous existence.

HE died at the very moment that was proper, and in the man|ner that was infinitely fit, by a few hours sickness, * 1.13 therefore let the citizens of America raise their hearts in gratitude and praise to God, the sovereign God, who doth according to his plea|sure in the armies of heaven, and among the inhabitants of this lower world; that he granted to us, his important, useful and invaluable life so long, and that he transmitted him down to the tomb, richly adorned with his unfaded laurels, and with all his unstained honors, and untarnished glories. † 1.14

A MULTITUDE of christian improving thoughts croud upon my mind, of which, I will only detain your attention to one, and abruptly leave a subject entirely inexhaustible.

THE last improvement, I shall mention is this,—That as men and christians, it behoves us to maintain an unwavering immov|able confidence, and firm trust in that God, who never dies;—in his wisdom, righteousness, goodness, and all his adorable per|fections;—and in the certain rectitude, supreme equity, and im|mutable excellency of his government.

HOW will this faith console the grieving heart, heal the wound|ed spirit, and dissipate more than half its sorrows?—It will wipe the big tear from the eye, bind up the broken bone, illumine the gloom of the sad countenance, and cause the soul of mourning to rejoice.

HAS God, the infinitely wise and infinitely good God, taken from us our Moses; let us believe, trust and hope in him, as be|cometh christians, and he will not only raise up a Joshua, to maintain our independance, guard our privileges, and support our liberties; but, if as a nation we cultivate virtue and practise righteousness, he will raise up a succession of Joshuas, to be our leaders, guardians and defenders, while suns and moons shall endure.

LET our mourning hearts be now filled with faith and con|fidence in God, the immortal God, and unite,

And sing the song of Moses the servant of God, and the song of the lamb, saying, great and marvelous are thy works, Lord, God, Al|mighty; just and true are thy ways, thou king of saints.

NOW unto the king eternal, immortal, invisible, the only wise God, be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen

— and Amen.

Notes

• * 1.1

  GEN. WASHINGTON was an uniform professor of the christian religion. He steadily discountenanced vice; abhored the principles of infidelity, and the practices of immorality. He was a constant and devout attendant upon divine worship. In the army he kept no chap|lain of his own, but attended divine service with his Brigades, in ro|tation, as far as conveniency would allow; probably to be an exam|ple to his officers, and èncourage his soldiers to respect religion. He steadily attended the worship of God when President. He was not in this respect like too many, who practically declare themselves superior to honoring their Maker in the offices of religion. He firmly believed in the existence of God and his superintending providence. This appears in almost all his speeches and proclamations. He was educated in the Episcopal Church, and always continued a member thereof, and was an ornament to the same. He was truly of a catholic spirit, and con|sidered the distinctions of the great denominations of christians, rather as shades of difference, than any thing substantial, or essential to sal|vation. After President Washington's inauguration into his high ••ffice in New-York, knowing the multiplicity of business to which he must attend, and that he must not be interrupted by continual visitants, "he assigned every Tuesday and Friday, between the hours of two and three, for receiving visits, and that visits of compliments on other days, and particularly on Sundays, will not be agreeable to him." I pro|duce this quotation to show the great reverence he had for the Lord's day.
• * 1.2

  All ranks of men even to children were objects of his peculiar po|liteness, A modest and placid serenity ever surrounded him. Of what multitudes of little ones did he take a tender and condescending notice? And ladies of every class universally acknowledged with pride his re|spectful attention. He was a person of such finished politeness, that by-standers would suppose, he had nothing else to attend to, but the etiquette of genteel ceremony. He was hardly ever known, to be in|cident to absence of mind.
• † 1.3

  Consider the vast difference of the education and employments of Cicero and Pliny from Washington. The former were educated in all the learning of Greece and Rome. Composition was their business from their youth. They wrote in all the quietude of retirement; but the letters of the latter had no advantages either from a common liber|al education or common study. They were written upon the spur of the monument, and generally in the hurry, tumult and confusion of war; and many of them, I may say, amidst the beating of drums and din of arms. Yet the native productions of his pen, flowing from his superior genius, and as if it were from an inspired polish of literature, in my pinion, far exceed them, and will be much better models for the imi|tation of youth.
• * 1.4

  The event to which I have alluded took place in the year 1754, but it will be said I ought to have introduced him to public view pre|vious to this. I well know, that just after he past his age of 21, in the year 1753, he was honored with a commission by Mr. Dinwiddie, then governor of Virginia, to M. St. Piere, the commander of a French Fort erected on the Ohio,

  to demand the reason of his hostile proceedings, and to require him to withdraw his forces.

  —How he travelled thro' a trackless wilderness of hundreds of miles with only a single companion with their provisions on their back, and how he was treated by the haughty Frenchman, and sent back with ignominy and contempt, every one may see in the histories of those times.
• * 1.5

  I could not mention in my discourse, how Washington informed the unadvisable general of the Indian mode of fighting, and that they were not cowards, as some Europeans were ready to suppose, and wish+ed and begged to be permitted to go before with some rangers to sco•••• the woods and guard against a surprise. This same strange com+mander at the head of 1400 men, suffered himself to be surprised an•• destroyed by about 400, chiefly Indians.
• * 1.6

  He was not only the wonder of his own country, but the admira|tion of the world. His fame encircled the globe. Especially in Eu|rope, his name was extolled by kings, emperors and the greatest generals. The late king of Prussia, Frederick III, it is said, presented him an elegant sword, accompanied with this grand compliment, "From the oldest general in Europe, to the greatest general in the world."
• † 1.7

  Let it be here observed, what a young, raw, undisciplined people Gen. Washington had to oppose to the mighty power and vengeance of Britain. His country was destitute of every article of military fur|niture, of magazines, arms, ammunition and money. There was scarcely a man in America, that understood the detail of, or how to pro|vide for an army. The fact was, Washington, unacquainted as he was with military rotine, by his natural powers, and amazing appli|cation and diligence, superintended the whole business, from the drill serjeant to the highest officer. He was for a long time, in a leading measure, quarter-master, commissary, waggon-master, &c. and every thing, and accountable for all.—There is no describing the greatness of this man.—Bring forward Themistocles, Epimanondas, and all the heroes of free governments, their exploits can scarcely form spots in his unclouded SUN.
• * 1.8

  Time would not admit in a narrow discourse, of further consider|ation of this remarkable man, but I ought to have mentioned the last honor conferred upon him by his country, and which he condescended to accept. When Congress deemed it expedient, from the state of some of our foreign relations, to raise an army for the security and defence of this country, he was appointed (and surely no person so proper) Lieut. General of all the forces that should be raised in the United States.— His acceptance of this commission, has been viewed by many as one of the most disinterested traits of his amor patriae or patriotism. He had been chief commander of all the armies of America for eight years; he had been President for eight years, and of consequence Commander in chief of all the forces by land and sea; for him to stoop to this inferior appointment is an instance of such strange and disinterested patriotism the world never before saw. It could not be same, or any other mo|tive inducing him hereto, but the pure and exalted love of his country.
• † 1.9

  The moment was full of the most feeling passion in this farewell It took place in the city of New-York. The officers being previously assembled for this purpose, their general and father addressed them in these words,

  With a heart full of love and gratitude, I now take leave of you. I most devoutly wish, that your latter days may be as prosperous and happy, as your former ones have been honorable.

  The officers came up to him one after another, and with reciprocal showers of tears, like children embracing a tender father, bid him an affectionate farewell.
• * 1.10

  His speech was in the following words:

  Mr. President, The great events on which my resignation depended, having at length taken place, I have now the honor of offering my sincere congratulations to Congress, and of presenting myself before them, to surrender into their hands the trust committed to me, and to claim the indulgence of retiring from the service of my country.

  Happy in the confirmation of our independence and sovereignty, ••nd pleased with the opportunity afforded the United States of be|coming a respectable nation, I resign with satisfaction the appoint|ment I accepted with dissidence; a dissidence in my abilities to accomplish so arduous a task, which, however, was superceded by a confidence in the rectitude of our cause, the support of the supreme power of the union, and the patronage of heaven.

  The succes••ful termination of the war has verified the most san|guine expectations, and my gratitude for the interposition of Provi|dence, and the assistance I have received from my countrymen, in|••••eases with every review of the momentous contest.

  While I repeat my obligations to the army in general, I should do injustice to my own feelings, not to acknowledge in this place, the peculiar services, and distinguishing merits of the persons, who have been attached to my person during the war. It was impossible the choice of confidential officers, to compose my family, should have been more fortunate. Permit me, sir, to recommend in particular those who have continued in the service, to the present moment, as worthy of the favorable notice and patronage of Congress.

  I consider it as an indispensable duty to close this solemn act of my official life, be commanding the interests of our dearest country to the protection of Almighty God, and those who have the superintendance of them to His Holy Keeping.

  Having now finished the work assigned me, I retire from the great theatre of action; and bidding an affectionate farewell to this august body, under whose orders I have long acted, I here offer my Com|mission, and take my leave of all the employments of public life.

  Allow me here to make a quotation from Dr. Ramsey, after the President had returned his answer to Gen. Washington's speech.—

  The great scenes that crouded in upon the imagination of the Gen|eral, and of the President, so affected them both, that they almost lost the power of utterance. The mingled emotions that agitated the minds of the spectators, on seeing the Commander in chief of their armies resigning all public employments, and his country acknowledg|ing his services, and loading him with their blessings, were beyond description.

  See Ramsey's history.
• * 1.11

  A person of eminence in England, observed to an American gentle|man in office there, on the report that President Washington intended to decline standing as a candidate at the next election; "That such a thing was impossible; he could not give up such honors." Upon the American's saying, by the letters he had received from home, he had no doubt but that would be the case; the English gentleman then re|plied;

  If such be the case, I will say, that if all the heroes, from the beginning of creation to the present day, were formed into one Pyramid, Washington would make the Apex of the whole.
• * 1.12

  See the Address at the end.
• * 1.13

  Allow here an abstract of his last illness, as published by his phy|sicians, Dr. Craik and Dr. Dick.

  Sometime in the night of Fri|day (December 13th.) Gen. Washington was attacked with an inflamatory affection in the upper part of the Windpipe. The dis|ease commenced with a violent ague, which was soon succeeded by a fever, and a quick and laborious respiration. Plentiful bleedings four times were used, a blister applied to the throat, calomel and repeated doses of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 tartar were given, vapours of vinegar an•• water wer•• frequently inhaled; blisters were applied to the extremi|ties, together with a cataplasm of bran and vinegar to the throat.

  All these applications could neither mitigate or stay the disease.

  At half after eleven on Saturday night, retaining the full possession of his intellects, he expired without a struggle.
• † 1.14

  A brief account of his funeral, I presume will not be unaccepta|ble.

  On Wednesday, December 18th, the mortal part of Washington the great,—the father of his country and the friend of man, was consigned to the tomb, with solemn honors and funeral pomp.

  On the ornament at the head of the Coffin was inscribed, Surg••, ad Judicium,—about the middle of the Coffin, Gloria Deo, and on the silver plate,

  GENERAL GEORGE WASHINGTON, DEPARTED THIS LIFE ON THE 14th OF DEC. 1799, Aet. 68.

  Between three and four o'clock, at the sound of artillery from a vessel in the river firing minute guns, the corpse was moved, a band of music with mournful melody, melted the soul into all the tender|ness of woe.

  The procession was formed, and moved on in the following order: Cavalry, Infantry, Guard with arms reversed. Then music and the clergy. Next was the General's horse, with his saddle, holsters and pistols. Then the corpse, attended by six pall-bearers, who were colonels, viz. Little, Pa••ne, Marsteller, Ramsay, Gilpin and Simmes. The mourners then followed, next the masonic brethren, and after them the citizens.

  When the procession had arrived at the bottom of the elevated lawn on the banks of the Patomac, where the family vault is placed, the Cavalry halted,—the Infantry marched toward the mount, and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 their lines.—The Clergy, the Masonic brothers, and the citizens descended to the vault, and the funeral service of the church was performed.

  The firing was repeat from the vessel in the river, and the sound echoed from the hills around.—Three general discharges by the infantry, the cavalry and eleven pieces of artillery, which lined the banks of the Potomac back of the vault, paid the last tribute to the commander in chief of the armies of the United States, and to the venerable departed Hero.