Hamilton might have done in his place is hinted in a letter of March 25th, to the general: "There are two classes of men, Sir, in Congress, of very different views; one attached to State, the other to Continental politics. The last have been strenuous advocates of funding the public debt upon solid securities; the former have given every opposition in their power." He advocates blending the interests of the army with those of other creditors, as, in seeking means to restore the public credit, "the necessity and discontents of the army presented themselves as a powerful engine." He would certainly have gone a dangerous distance in using the army for civil purposes; the new America under his guidance would have taken on a more military aspect; and he could never have drawn from so jealous a civilian as John Adams so high a eulogy as this:

"The happy turn given to the discontents of the army, by the General, is consistent with his character, which, as you observe, is above all praise, as every character is whose rule and object are duty, not interest, nor glory, which I think has been strictly true with the General from the beginning, and I trust will continue to the end. May he long live, and enjoy his reflections, and the confidence and affections of a free, grateful, and virtuous people."

The Count Dumas records this scene:

"We were surrounded by a crowd of children carrying torches, reiterating the acclamations of the citizens;

all were eager to approach the person of him whom they called their father, and pressed so closely around us that they hindered us from proceeding. General Washington was much affected, stopped a few moments, and pressing my hand, said, 'We may be beaten by the English; it is the chance of war; but behold an army which they can never conquer.'"

It was toward the end of 1783 that the army was disbanded. In his farewell orders the commander said:

"It is earnestly recommended to all the troops, that, with strong attachments to the Union, they should carry with them into civil society the most conciliating dispositions, and that they should prove themselves not less virtuous and useful as citizens, than they have been persevering and victorious as soldiers."

He took leave of his officers in a tavern room, where, filling a glass, he said, "With a heart full of love and gratitude I take leave of you; I most devoutly wish, that your latter days may be as prosperous and happy, as your former ones have been glorious and honorable." The officers, many of them conquered by emotion, shook his hand without speaking. He left the room, entered a barge, and waved his hat in silent farewell.

Washington formally resigned his commission to Congress on December 23d at noon, in Annapolis, where Congress had been sitting since the departure from Philadelphia. There were present also the governor, council, and legislature of Mary

land, and citizens of Annapolis, including a gallery of ladies. The members of Congress,

representing the nation, remained seated, with their hats on, but the spectators stood uncovered. Washington was led to a chair by the secretary, who, "after a decent interval," ordered silence. Thomas Mifflin, President of Congress, then informed Washington that the United States, in Congress assembled, were prepared to receive his communications. The General arose, and in a dignified manner made a brief address of congratulation and resignation, expressing obligation to the army and trust in Almighty God. Apparently much moved, he advanced to deliver to the President his commission and a copy of his address, then returned to his place, and, standing, received the answer of Congress. This ceremony, although a matter of course, has appealed to the imagination of the world. No act of Washington's has been more highly celebrated. Brougham, to whom Washington was "the greatest man of our own or any age," spoke of him as "retiring with the veneration of all parties, of all nations, of all mankind, in order that the rights of men might be conserved, and that his example might never be appealed to by the vulgar."

Sir James Mackintosh wrote in his diary: “A civil war is better than assassination and massacre; it has a system of discipline, it has laws,

duties, and virtues; but it must end in military despotism. The example of Washington is solitary." The well-beloved and sympathetic pupil, Lafayette, wrote from France:

"Were you but such a man as Julius Cæsar or the King of Prussia, I should almost be sorry for you at the end of the great tragedy where you are acting such a part. But, with my dear General, I rejoice at the blessings of a peace when our noble ends have been secured. Remember our Valley-Forge times; and, from a recollection of past dangers and labors, we shall be still more pleased at our present comfortable situation. . . .

"I cannot but envy the happiness of my grandchildren, when they will be about celebrating and worshipping your name. To have one of their ancestors among your soldiers, to know he had the good fortune to be the friend of your heart, will be the eternal honor in which they shall glory."

The poet Shelley, aboard an American ship, drinking to the health of Washington and the prosperity of the American Commonwealth, remarked, "As a warrior and statesman, he was righteous in all he did, unlike all who lived before or since; he never used his power but for the benefit of his fellow-creatures." Shelley is hardly an authority, but there is something pleasing in the ardor with which poets have joined with statesmen in paying tributes to the leader, whose place is forever secure in the hearts of his countrymen.

CHAPTER XV

CINCINNATUS OF THE WEST

"Where may the wearied eye repose,
When gazing on the Great;
Where neither guilty glory glows,
Nor despicable state?

"Yes-one- the first- the last the best

The Cincinnatus of the West,

Whom envy dared not hate

Bequeath the name of Washington,

To make man blush there was but one. BYRON.

THE sincerity of Washington's republicanism was again brought out, at the close of the war, by the action of some discontented officers, who, seeking to strengthen the government and secure to the army its rights, suggested that he be king. The general who had been fighting for freedom, and for whom royalty and tyranny had come almost to coincide in meaning, was bitterly grieved. He answered the officers, that no occurrence in the course of the war had given him more painful sensations. Such ideas, he said: "I must view with abhorrence and reprehend with severity. For the present the communicatn. of them will rest in my own bosom, unless some further agita