DEATH, AND FUNERAL CEREMONIES.

In December, 1799, there came a cold, bleak morning, with drizzling rain and sleet.

“I would not go out this uncomfortable day,” Mrs. Washington said to her husband, observing that he was preparing to go out to his daily task.

“It is not much of a storm,” Washington replied. “Besides, I have a piece of work under way that I must superintend.”

“I fear that you will take cold,” continued Mrs. Washington. “Sitting at the fire is more fitting for a man of your age than exposing yourself in such a storm.”

He went, however, nor returned until almost time for dinner. His locks were covered with snow and sleet, and he was quite wet.

Mrs. Washington advised him to change his apparel, but he declined, saying:

“The wet is of little consequence. I shall soon be dry.”

In the evening he read aloud to his family as usual although he was somewhat hoarse. The next day, the storm was still more severe, and he remained within doors, complaining of a slight cold. Again he read aloud to his family in the evening. This was on Friday, the thirteenth day of December.

On retiring, Mr. Lear, his private secretary, said to him:

“General, you had better take something for your cold.”

“No,” replied Washington; “you know that I never take anything for a cold. Let it go as it came.”

About three o’clock in the morning he awoke with a chill, feeling very unwell. Still, he would not allow his wife to get up, fearing that she might take cold. A servant came in to build a fire, when he sent for Mr. Rawlins, an overseer, to bleed him, which, at that time, was a method of treatment universally adopted. The overseer was accustomed to bleed negroes, but he hesitated to practise on Washington.

“I would not be bled; you need more strength instead of less,” interposed his wife, but Washington had confidence in the method. “Don’t be afraid,” he said to the overseer; “make the orifice large enough.”

But he grew worse rapidly, and early in the morning Dr. Craik was sent for. Washington said to Mr. Lear, his private secretary:

“I cannot last long. I feel that I am going. I believed from the first that the attack would prove fatal.”

“I hope not,” answered Mr. Lear, rather surprised by these words. “The doctor will give you relief, I trust, when he arrives.

“Do you arrange and record all my military letters and papers; arrange my accounts and settle my books, as you know more about them than any one else,” Washington continued.

“That I will do,” replied Mr. Lear; “but I hope you will live many years yet.”

“Do you think of anything else it is essential for me to do? for I am confident that I shall continue but a very short time with you,” continued Washington.

“I can think of nothing,” answered Mr. Lear, and then repeated his opinion that he was not so near the end.

Smiling, the great man responded:

“I am certainly near the end, and I look forward to the hour of dissolution with perfect resignation.”

Turning to Mrs. Washington, he said, “Go to my desk, and in the private drawer you will find two papers; bring them to me.”

The papers were brought, when he added, taking one paper in each hand:

“These are my wills. Preserve this one, and burn the other.”

Dr. Craik arrived about ten o’clock, and remained with him until his death. Drs. Brown and Dick were sent for, and every effort possible made to save his life.

“I am much obliged for all your care and attention,” he said to the physicians; “but do not trouble yourselves any more about me. Let me pass away quietly. I cannot last long.”

Later he said to Dr. Craik:

“Doctor, I die hard, but I am not afraid to go.” He was then struggling for breath.

At eight o’clock in the evening he appeared unable to speak. Mr. Lear says:

“I aided him all in my power, and was gratified in believing he felt it, for he would look upon me with eyes speaking gratitude, but unable to utter a word without great distress.

At ten o’clock he appeared to make a desperate effort to speak, and at length said to Mr. Lear: “I am just going. Have me decently buried, and do not let my body be put into the vault in less than three days after I am dead.”

Mr. Lear signified his assent by a nod.

As if not satisfied with that, Washington looked up to him again, and said:

“Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” Mr. Lear answered distinctly.

“It is well,” added the dying man the last words he spoke.

Mr. Lear describes the closing scene thus:

“About ten minutes before he expired, his breathing became much easier; he lay quietly. He withdrew his hand from mine and felt his own pulse. I spoke to Dr. Craik, who sat by the fire; he came to the bedside. The general’s hand fell from his wrist; I took it in mine and placed it on my breast. Dr. Craik closed his eyes, and he expired without groan or struggle.”

Mrs. Washington had been sitting in silent grief all the while, at the foot of the bed; but now she inquired with calmness:

“Is he gone?”

No one could answer; hearts were too full for utterance. But Mr. Lear “held up his hand as a signal that he was gone.”

“It is well,” responded Mrs. Washington, with firm, unfaltering voice. “All is over now; I shall soon follow him; I have no more trials to pass through.”

Mr. Custis says, “Close to the couch of the sufferer resting her head upon that ancient Book with which she had been wont to hold pious communion a portion of every day for more than half a century, was the venerable consort, absorbed in silent prayer, and from which she only arose when the mourning group prepared to lead her from the chamber of the dead. Such were the last hours of Washington.”

The news of the ex-president’s death spread rapidly for that day when railroads and telegraphs were unknown, and the sadness and mourning were universal. Congress was in session at Philadelphia, but did not receive the sad intelligence until the 18th of December, the day of the funeral at Mount Vernon.

The members of Congress appeared to be overwhelmed by the calamity, and immediately adjourned. On assembling the next day, they eulogized both by speech and resolution the illustrious dead; ordered that a marble monument, bearing the record of his great achievements, be erected at Washington; and appointed General Henry Lee to deliver a eulogy before both branches of Congress on the 26th. The Senate addressed an eloquent and pathetic letter to President Adams, in which it was said:

“On this occasion it is manly to weep. To lose such a man, at such a crisis, is no common calamity to the world. Our country mourns a father. The Almighty Disposer of human events has taken from us our greatest benefactor and ornament. It becomes us to submit with reverence to Him, ’who maketh darkness his pavilion.’... Thanks to God, his glory is consummated! Washington yet lives on earth, in his spotless example; his spirit is in Heaven.

“Let his country consecrate the memory of the heroic general, the patriotic statesman, and the virtuous sage. Let them teach their children never to forget that the fruits of his labors and his example are their inheritance.”

The funeral ceremonies were performed at Mount Vernon on the 18th, under the direction of Rev. Mr. Davis, rector of the parish, assisted by other clergymen. The people came from many miles around to pay a grateful tribute of respect to the honored dead. Almost the entire population of Alexandria, nine miles distant, was there, including its military companies. Eleven pieces of cannon were sent from that city, and one of its leading citizens, Robert Morris, anchored a schooner in the Potomac, in front of the Mount Vernon residence, from which minute-guns were fired during the funeral exercises and the march of the long procession to the tomb.

His remains were deposited in the old family vault, which was so dilapidated that the proprietor was thinking of building a new one. Only two or three days before he was taken sick, he called the attention of his nephew to the spot where he should build it, and, referring to other work demanding his attention, he added:

“But the tomb must be built first, since I may need it first.”

It would be quite impossible to describe the scene of sorrow that pervaded the country when the death of Washington became known. Congress enacted that the 22d of February, Washington’s birthday, should be observed for funeral services throughout the nation. Every method of expressing grief known to an afflicted people was called into requisition. Houses of worship, public halls, State capitals, schoolrooms, stores, and even dwellings were hung in mourning draperies on that day. Sermons, eulogies, and resolutions by public bodies were multiplied throughout the Union. The sorrow was universal.

Irving says:

“Public testimonials of grief and reverence were displayed in every part of the Union. Nor were these sentiments confined to the United States. When the news of Washington’s death reached England, Lord Bridport, who had command of a British fleet of nearly sixty sail of the line, lying at Torbay, lowered his flag half-mast, every ship following the example; and Bonaparte, First Consul of France, on announcing his death to the army, ordered that black crape should be suspended from all the standards and flags throughout the public service for ten days.

The great American orator of that day, Fisher Ames, delivered a eulogy before the Massachusetts Legislature, in which he said:

“The fame he enjoyed is of the kind that will last forever; yet it was rather the effect than the motive of his conduct. Some future Plutarch will search for a parallel to his character. Epaminondas is perhaps the brightest name of all antiquity. Our Washington resembled him in his purity and the ardor of his patriotism; and like him, he first exalted the glory of his country.”

Lord Brougham said:

“How grateful the relief which the friend of mankind, the lover of virtue, experiences, when, turning from the contemplation of such a character [Napoleon], his eye rests upon the greatest man of our own or of any age; the only one upon whom an epithet, so thoughtlessly lavished by men, may be innocently and justly bestowed!”

Edward Everett, by whose efforts and influence “The Ladies’ Mount Vernon Association of the Union” were enabled to purchase (twenty-five years ago) two hundred acres of the estate, including the mansion-house and tomb, for preservation and improvement, says, in his biography of Washington:

“In the final contemplation of his character, we shall not hesitate to pronounce Washington, of all men that have ever lived, THE GREATEST OF GOOD MEN AND THE BEST OF GREAT MEN!”

Posterity honors itself by calling him

“THE FATHER OF HIS COUNTRY!”