WASHINGTON'S HABITS AND PERSONAL APPEARANCE.

Washington, as we have observed in the earlier portion of this work, was passionately fond of field-sports; and during the first years of his married life, and even to the kindling of the Revolution, he frequently indulged in the pleasures of the chase. He was an admirable equestrian, but was not a successful sportsman. He engaged in the chase more for the pleasure produced by the excitement, than for the honors of success. He had quite a large kennel of hounds, and a fine stud of horses. Of these he kept, with his own hand, a careful register, in which might be found the names, ages, and marks of each. With these, his companions of the chase, he was as carefully punctual in his attentions as to any other business of his life. Among the names of his horses were those of Chinkling, Valiant, Ajax, Magnolia, Blueskin, etc. Magnolia was a full-blooded Arabian, and was used for the saddle upon the road. Among the names of his hounds were Vulcan, Ringwood, Singer, Truelove, Music, Sweetlips, Forester, Rockwood, etc. It was his pride (and a proof of his skill in hunting) to have his pack so critically drafted, as to speed and bottom, that in running, if one leading dog should lose the scent, another was at hand immediately to recover it; and thus, when in full cry, to use a racing-phrase, you might “cover the pack with a blanket.”

Mr. Custis, in his Recollections of Washington, has given some interesting incidents of his life as a sportsman. “During the season,” he says, “Mount Vernon had many sporting guests from the neighborhood, from Maryland, and elsewhere. Their visits were not of days, but weeks; and they were entertained in the good old style of Virginia's ancient hospitality. Washington, always superbly mounted, in true sporting costume, of blue coat, scarlet waistcoat, buckskin breeches, top-boots, velvet cap, and whip with long thong, took the field at daybreak, with his huntsman, Will Lee, his friends and neighbors.” They usually hunted three times a week, if the weather was favorable.

On the hunting-mornings, breakfast was served at candlelight. Washington seldom partook of anything but Indian-corn cakes and milk. At dawn the whole cavalcade would leave Mount Vernon, and frequently before sunrise the dogs would be in full cry after a fox, Washington usually rode a horse named Blueskin, a fiery animal, of great endurance, and of a dark, iron-gray color. Billy (who was Washington's body-servant during the war) always kept with the hounds; “and, mounted on Chinkling, says Custis, “a French horn at his back, throwing himself almost at length on the animal, with his spurs in flank, this fearless horseman would rush at full speed, through brake and tangled wood, in a style at which modern huntsmen would stand aghast.” When the chase was ended, the party would return to Mount Vernon to dinner, where other than sporting guests were frequently assembled to greet them. The table was always furnished generously; and the expensive style in which Washington kept up his establishment before the Revolution may be inferred from an entry in his diary, in 1768, in which he says, “Would any one believe that, with a hundred and one cows, actually reported at a late enumeration of the cattle, I should still be obliged to buy butter for my family?” During the war, these pleasures were suspended, nor was the sporting establishment ever revived, to any great extent. Lafayette sent Washington some hounds in 1785, but increasing private and public duties caused the master of Mount Vernon to neglect the pleasures in which he once took such delight.

It must not be supposed that, during those years of social enjoyment, Washington neglected any duties. As a member of the Virginia house of burgesses, he was assiduous, punctual, and faithful. As a farmer, he was careful, prudent, and skilful; and he managed his estate of eight thousand acres with such signal industry and ability, that he was considered a model agriculturist. He did not leave his farms to the entire care of his overseers. He continually exercised a general supervision of his affairs, except when absent on public business; and even then, through weekly reports, which he required his manager to transmit to him regularly, he had a perfect knowledge of all operations, and sometimes gave lengthy and minute directions.

While Washington's table was always bountifully supplied for his guests, he seldom partook of those preparations of the cook which specially please the appetite. He was very abstemious, and never indulged to excess in eating or drinking. His breakfast-hour was seven o'clock in summer, and eight in winter. He usually made a frugal meal of Indian cakes, honey, and tea or coffee, then mounted his horse and visited every part of his estate, where the current operations seemed to require his presence, leaving his guests to enjoy themselves with books and papers, or otherwise, according to their choice. He rode upon his farms entirely unattended, opening the gates, pulling down and putting up the “bars,” and inspecting with careful eye every agricultural operation. Sometimes the tour of his farms in the course of the morning might average, in distance, twelve or fifteen miles. The late Mr. Custis has left on record a description of his appearance on one of these occasions, in the latter years of his life, which he gave to a gentleman who was out in search of Washington. “You will meet, sir" said young Custis to the inquirer, “with an old gentleman riding alone, in plain drab clothes, a broad-brimmed white hat, a hickory switch in his hand, and carrying an umbrella with a long staff, which is attached to his saddle-bow—that person, sir, is General Washington.”

He dined at three o'clock, when he always ate heartily, but of simple food. His usual beverage was small-beer and cider, and Madeira wine. Of the latter he often drank several small glasses at a sitting. He took tea and toast, or a little well-baked bread, early in the evening; conversed with or read to his family when there were no guests; and usually, whether there was company or not, retired for the night at about nine o'clock. He was an early riser, and might be found in his library from one to two hours before daylight in winter, and at dawn in summer. His toilet, plain and simple, was soon made. A single servant prepared his clothes, and laid them in a proper place at night, for use in the morning. He always dressed and shaved himself, and a servant combed and tied his hair. Always neat in his dress and appearance, yet he never wasted precious moments upon his toilet; for he regarded time, not as a gift, but a loan, for which he must account to the Great Master.

The economy practised at Mount Vernon was always exercised by Washington while in public office. He had engaged Samuel Fraunces, the noted innkeeper in New York, as the steward of his household when he was president of the United States. “We are happy to inform our readers,” said Fenno's Gazette, “that the president is determined to pursue that system of regularity and economy in his household which has always marked his public and private life. As a proof of this, we learn that the steward is obliged, by his articles of agreement, to exhibit weekly a fair statement of the receipts and expenditures of moneys by him, for and on account of the president's household, to such person as the president may appoint to inspect the same; together with the several bills and receipts of payment for those articles which may be purchased by him, when such bills and receipts can be obtained. And it is likewise strongly inculcated on the steward to guard against any waste or extravagance that might be committed by the servants of the family.”[152]The late Reverend Ashbel Green has left on record the following personal reminiscences of Washington during his residence in Philadelphia as chief magistrate of the nation: “After a great deal of talking, and writing, and controversy, about the permanent seat of Congress, under the present constitution, it was determined that Philadelphia should be honored with its presence for ten years, and that afterward its permanent location should be in the city of Washington, where it now is. In the meantime, the federal city was in building; and the legislature of Pennsylvania voted a sum of money to build a house for the president—perhaps with some hope that this might help to keep the seat of the general government in the capital, for Philadelphia was then considered as the capital of the state. What was lately the University of Pennsylvania, was the structure erected for this purpose. But as soon as General Washington saw its dimensions, and a good while before it was finished, he let it be known that he would not occupy it—that he should certainly not go to the expense of purchasing suitable furniture for such a dwelling; for it is to be understood, in those days of stern republicanism, nobody thought of Congress furnishing the president's house; or, if perchance such a thought did enter into some aristocratic head, it was too unpopular to be uttered.

“President Washington, therefore, rented a house of Mr. Robert Morris, in Market street, between Fifth and Sixth streets, on the south side, and furnished it handsomely, but not gorgeously. There he lived, with Mrs. Washington; Mr. Lear (his private secretary) and his wife, and Mrs. Washington's grandchildren, making a part of the family. Young Custis had a private tutor, employed by the president, who was engaged to attend on his pupil one hour in the winter mornings, before breakfast; and who, then, commonly breakfasted with the president and his family. The president ate Indian-cakes for breakfast, after the Virginia fashion, although buckwheat-cakes were generally on the table. Washington's dining parties were entertained in a very handsome style. His weekly dining-day, for company, was Thursday, and his dining-hour was always four o'clock in the afternoon. His rule was, to allow five minutes for the variation of clocks and watches, and then go to the table, be present or absent whoever might. He kept his own clock in the hall, just within the outward door, and always exactly regulated. When lagging members of Congress came in, as they often did, after the guests had sat down to dinner, the president's only apology was, 'Gentlemen (or sir), we are too punctual for you. I have a cook who never asks whether the company has come, but whether the hour has come,' The company usually assembled in the drawing-room, about fifteen or twenty minutes before dinner, and the president spoke to every guest personally on entering the room.

“He was always dressed in a suit of black, his hair powdered and tied in a black queue behind, with a very elegant dress-sword, which he wore with inimitable grace. Mrs. Washington often, but not always, dined with the company, sat at the head of the table, and if, as was occasionally the case, there were other ladies present, they sat each side of her. The private secretary sat at the foot of the table, and was expected to be quietly attentive to all the guests. The president himself sat half way from the head to the foot of the table, and on that side he would place Mrs. Washington, though distant from him, on his right hand. He always, unless a clergyman was present, at his own table, asked a blessing, in a standing posture. If a clergyman were present, he was requested both to ask a blessing, and to return thanks after dinner. The centre of the table contained five or six large silver or plated waiters, those of the ends circular or rather oval on one side, so as to make the arrangement correspond with the oval shape of the table. The waiters between the end-pieces were in the form of parallelograms, the ends about one third part of the length of the sides; and the whole of these waiters were filled with alabaster figures, taken from the ancient mythology, but none of them such as to offend, in the smallest degree, against delicacy. On the outside of the oval, formed by the waiters, were placed the various dishes, always without covers; and outside the dishes were the plates. A small roll of bread, enclosed in a napkin, was laid by the side of each plate. The president, it is believed, generally dined on one dish, and that of a very simple-kind. If offered something, either in the first or second course, which was very rich, his usual reply was, 'That is too good for me.' He had a silver pint cup or mug of beer placed by his plate, which he drank while dining. He took one glass of wine during dinner, and commonly one after. He then retired (the ladies having gone a little before him), and left his secretary to superintend the table till the wine-bibbers of Congress had satisfied themselves with drinking. His wines were always the best that could be obtained. Nothing could exceed the order with which his table was served. Every servant knew what he was to do, and did it in the most quiet and yet rapid manner. The dishes and plates were removed and changed with a silence and speed that seemed like enchantment.”

Washington's personal appearance, and deportment in public and private life, have often been the theme of description. In the year 1790, an English gentleman, of intelligence and culture, was a guest at the presidential mansion, in New York, after Washington had left Franklin square, and taken up his abode in “M'Comb's house,” on the west side of Broadway, near Trinity church. The following account of that visit, supposed to be from the pen of Hazlitt, appeared in the London New Monthly Magazine: “I remember my father telling me he was introduced to Washington, in 1790, by an American friend. A servant, well looking and well dressed, received the visitants at the door, and by him they were delivered over to an officer of the United States service, who ushered them into the drawing-room, in which Mrs. Washington and several ladies were seated. There was nothing remarkable in the person of the lady of the president; she was matronly and kind, with perfect good breeding. She at once entered into easy conversation, asked how long he had been in America, how he liked the country, and such other familiar but general questions. In a few minutes the general was in the room. It was not necessary to announce his name, for his peculiar appearance, his firm forehead, Roman nose, and a projection of the lower jaw, his height and figure, could not be mistaken by any one who had seen a full-length picture of him, and yet no picture accurately resembled him in the minute traits of his person. His features, however, were so marked by prominent characteristics, which appear in all likenesses of him, that a stranger could not be mistaken in the man. He was remarkably dignified in his manners, and had an air of benignity over his features which his visitant did not expect, being rather prepared for sternness of countenance.

“After an introduction by Mrs. Washington, without more form than common good manners prescribes, 'he requested me,' said my father, 'to be seated; and, taking a chair himself, entered at once into conversation. His manner was full of affability. He asked how I liked the country, the city of New York; talked of the infant institutions of America, and the advantages she offered, by her intercourse, for benefiting other nations. He was grave in manner, but perfectly easy. His dress was of purple satin. There was a commanding air in his appearance which excited respect, and forbade too great a freedom toward him, independently of that species of awe which is always felt in the moral influence of a great character. In every movement, too, there was a polite gracefulness equal to any met with in the most polished individuals in Europe, and his smile was extraordinarily attractive. It was observed to me that there was an expression in Washington's face that no painter had succeeded in taking. It struck me no man could be better formed for command. A stature of six feet, a robust but well-proportioned frame, calculated to sustain fatigue, without that heaviness which generally attends great muscular strength and abates active exertion, displayed bodily power of no mean standard. A light eye and full—the very eye of genius and reflection, rather than of blind, passionate impulse. His nose appeared thick, and, though it befitted his other features, was too coarsely and strongly formed to be the handsomest of its class. His mouth was like no other that I ever saw; the lips firm, and the under jaw seeming to grasp the upper with force, as if its muscles were in full action when he sat still. Neither with the general nor with Mrs. Washington was there the slightest restraint of ceremony. There was less of it than I ever recollect to have met with where perfect good breeding and manners were at the same time observed. To many remarks Washington assented with a smile or inclination of the head, as if he were by nature sparing in his conversation, and I am inclined to think this was the case. An allusion was made to a serious fit of illness he had recently suffered; but he took no notice of it. I could not help remarking that America must have looked with anxiety to the termination of his indisposition. He made no reply to my compliment but by an inclination of the head. His bow at my taking leave I shall never forget. It was the last movement which I saw that illustrious character make, as my eyes took their leave of him for ever, and it hangs a perfect picture upon my recollection. The house of Washington was in the Broadway, and the street front was handsome. The drawing-room in which I sat was lofty and spacious; but the furniture was not beyond that found in dwellings of opulent Americans in general, and might be called plain for its situation. The upper end of the room had glass doors, which opened upon a balcony, commanding an extensive view of the Hudson river, interspersed with islands, and the Jersey shore on the opposite side. A grandson and daughter resided constantly in the house with the general, and a nephew of the general's, married to a niece of Mrs. Washington, resided at Mount Vernon, the general's family-seat in Virginia; his residence, as president, keeping him at the seat of government.' The levees held by Washington, as president, were generally crowded, and held on Tuesday, between three and four o'clock. The president stood, and received the bow of the person presented, who retired to make way for another. At the drawing-room, Mrs. Washington received the ladies, who courtesied, and passed aside without exchanging a word. Tea and coffee, with refreshments of all kinds, were laid in one part of the rooms; and, before the individuals of the company retired, each lady was a second time led up to the lady-president, made her second silent obeisance, and departed. Nothing could be more simple, yet it was enough.”

The late Mr. Custis, in his Recollections of Washington, says: “With all its developments of muscular power, the form of Washington had no appearance of bulkiness; and so harmonious were its proportions, that he did not appear so passing tall as his portraits have represented. He was rather spare than full during his whole life; this is readily ascertained from his weight. The last time he weighed was in the summer of 1799, when, having made the tour of his farms, accompanied by an English gentleman, he called at his mill and was weighed. The writer placed the weight in the scales. The Englishman, not so tall, but stout, square built, and fleshy, weighed heavily, and expressed much surprise that the general had not outweighed him, when Washington observed that the best weight of his best days never exceeded from two hundred and ten to two hundred and twenty pounds. In the instance alluded to, he weighed a little rising two hundred and ten. In the prime of life, Washington stood six feet two inches, and measured precisely six feet when attired for the grave.

“The power of Washington's arm was displayed in several memorable instances: in his throwing a stone from the bed of the stream to the top of the Natural Bridge; another over the Palisades into the Hudson; and yet another across the Rappahannock, at Fredericksburg. Of the article with which he spanned this noble and navigable stream, there are various accounts. We are assured that it was a piece of slate, fashioned to about the size and shape of a dollar, and which, sent by an arm so strong, not only spanned the river, but took the ground at least thirty yards on the other side. Numbers have since tried this feat, but none have cleared the water. 'Tis the 'Douglas cast,' made in the days when Virginia's men were strong, as her maids are fair; when the hardy sports of the gymnasium prepared the body to answer the 'trumpet-call to war,' and gave vigor and elevation to the mind; while our modern habits would rather fit the youth 'to caper nimbly in a lady's chamber.'

“While the late and venerable Charles Willson Peale was at Mount Vernon, in 1772, engaged in painting the portrait of the provincial colonel, some young men were contending in the exercise of pitching the bar. Washington looked on for a time, then grasping the missile in his master-hand, whirled the iron through the air, which took the ground far, very far, beyond any of its former limits; the colonel observing, with a smile, 'You perceive, young gentlemen, that my arm yet retains some portion of the vigor of my earlier days.' He was then in his fortieth year, and probably in the full meridian of his physical powers; but those powers became rather mellowed than decayed by time, for 'his age was like a lusty winter, frosty yet kindly;' and, up to his sixty-eighth year, he mounted a horse with surprising agility, and rode with the ease and gracefulness of his better days. His personal prowess, that elicited the admiration of a people who have nearly all passed from the stage of life, still serves as a model for the manhood of modern times.

“In the various exhibitions of Washington's great physical powers, they were apparently attended by scarcely any effort. On one occasion, when quite a young man, he was present while others were trying their strength in wrestling. He had retired to the shade of a tree, intent upon the perusal of a favorite volume; and it was only when the champion of the games strode through the ring, calling for nobler competitors, and taunting the student with the reproach that it was the fear of encountering so redoubted an antagonist that kept him from the ring, that Washington closed his book, and, without divesting himself of his coat, calmly walked into the arena, observing that fear formed no part of his being. Then, grappling with the champion, the struggle was fierce, but momentary, 'for,' said the vanquished hero of the arena, 'in Washington's lion-like grasp, I became powerless, and was hurled to the ground with a force that seemed to jar the very marrow in my bones;' while the victor, regardless of the shouts that proclaimed his triumph, leisurely retired to his shade, and the enjoyment of his favorite volume.

“Washington's powers were chiefly in his limbs: they were long, large, and sinewy. His frame was of equal breadth from the shoulders to the hips. His chest, though broad and expansive, was not prominent, but rather hollowed in the centre. He had suffered from a pulmonary affection in early life, from which he never entirely recovered. His frame showed an extraordinary development of bone and muscle; his joints were large, as were his feet; and could a cast have been preserved of his hand, to be exhibited in these degenerate days, it would be said to have belonged to the being of a fabulous age. During Lafayette's visit to Mount Vernon in 1825, he said to the writer: 'I never saw so large a hand on any human being, as the general's. It was in this portico, in 1784, that you were introduced to me by the general. You were a very little gentleman, with a feather in your hat, and holding fast to one finger of the good general's remarkable hand, which was all you could do, my dear sir, at that time.'”

A late anonymous writer says: “I saw this remarkable man four times. It was in the month of November, 1798, I first beheld the Father of his Country. It was very cold, the northwest wind blowing hard down the Potomac, at Georgetown, D. C. A troop of light-horse, from Alexandria, escorted him to the western bank of the river. The waves ran high, and the boat which brought him over seemed to labor considerably. Several thousand people greeted his arrival with swelling hearts and joyful countenances. The military were drawn up in a long line to receive him; the officers, pressed in regimentals, did him homage. I was so fortunate as to walk by his side, and had a full view of him. Although only about ten years of age, the impression his person and manner then made on me is now perfectly revived. He was six feet and one inch high, broad and athletic, with very large limbs, entirely erect, and without the slightest tendency to stooping; his hair was white, and tied with a silk string; his countenance lofty, masculine, and contemplative; his eye light gray. He was dressed in the clothes of a citizen, and over these a blue surtout of the finest cloth. His weight must have been two hundred and thirty pounds, with no superfluous flesh; all was bone and sinew; and he walked like a soldier. Whoever has seen, in the patent-office at Washington, the dress he wore when resigning his commission as commander-in-chief, in December, 1783, at once perceives how large and magnificent was his frame. During the parade, something at a distance suddenly attracted his attention; his eye was instantaneously lighted up as with the lightning's flash. At this moment I see its marvellous animation, its glowing fire, exhibiting strong passion, controlled by deliberate reason.

“In the summer of 1799, I again saw the chief. He rode a purely white horse, seventeen hands high, well proportioned, of high spirit: he almost seemed conscious that he bore on his back the Father of his Country. He reminded me of the war-horse whose 'neck is clothed with thunder.' I have seen some highly-accomplished riders, but not one of them approached Washington; he was perfect in this respect. Behind him, at the distance of perhaps forty yards, came Billy Lee, his body-servant, who had perilled his life in many a field, beginning on the heights of Boston, in 1775, and ending in 1781, when Cornwallis surrendered, and the captive army, with inexpressible chagrin, laid down their arms at Yorktown. Billy rode a cream-colored horse, of the finest form; and his old Revolutionary cocked hat indicated that its owner had often heard the roar of cannon and small-arms, and had encountered many trying scenes. Billy was a dark mulatto. His master speaks highly of him in his will, and provides for his support.

“Some time during this year, perhaps, I saw him at Seeme's tavern, in Georgetown. The steps, porch, and street, were crowded with persons desirous of beholding the man. I viewed him through a window. The most venerable, dignified, and wealthy men of the town were there, some conversing with him. Washington seemed almost a different being from any of them, and, indeed, from any other person ever reared in this country. His countenance was not so animated as when I first saw him, for then his complexion was as ruddy as if he were only twenty years old.

“A few months before his death, I beheld this extraordinary man for the last time. He stopped at the tavern opposite the Presbyterian church, in Bridge street, Georgetown. At that time, a regiment of soldiers was stationed in their tents, on the banks of Rock creek, and frequently attended Doctor Balch's church, dressed in their costume, and powdered after the Revolutionary fashion. I attended their parade almost every day; and, on one of these occasions, I recognised Washington riding on horseback, unaccompanied by any one. He was going out to see his houses on Capitol hill, as I supposed. They were burnt by the British, in 1814. My youthful eye was riveted on him until he disappeared, and that for ever. I was surprised that he did not once look at the parade, so far as I could discover; on the contrary, he appeared indifferent to the whole scene.”

“Of the remarkable degree of awe and reverence that the presence of Washington always inspired,” says Mr. Custis, “we shall give one out of a thousand instances. During the cantonment of the American army at the Valley Forge, some officers of the fourth Pennsylvania regiment were engaged in a game of 'fives.' In the midst of their sport, they discovered the commander-in-chief leaning upon the enclosure, and beholding the game with evident satisfaction. In a moment, all things were changed. The ball was suffered to roll idly away; the gay laugh and joyous shout of excitement were hushed into a profound silence, and the officers were gravely grouped together. It was in vain the chief begged of the players that they would proceed with their game; declared the pleasure he had experienced from witnessing their skill; spoke of a proficiency in the manly exercise that he himself could have boasted of in other days. All would not do. Not a man could be induced to move, till the general, finding that his presence hindered the officers from continuing the amusement, bowed, and, wishing them good sport, retired.”

A writer in the National Intelligencer, a few years ago, gave the following sketch of the personal appearance of Washington:—

“The description given by 'R' [a correspondent of the Intelligencer] of Washington's approach to the hall of Congress in Philadelphia, has freshly awakened my own reminiscences of the same scene. Its vivid truth can not be surpassed. I stood with him on that same stone platform, before the door of the hall, elevated by a few steps from the pavement, when the carriage of the president drew up. It was, as he describes it, white, or rather of a light cream-color, painted on the panels with beautiful groups, by Cipriani, representing the four seasons. The horses, according to my recollection, were white, in unison with the carriage, 'R.' says they were bays; perhaps he is more correct. As he alighted, and, ascending the steps, paused upon the platform, looking over his shoulder, in an attitude that would have furnished an admirable subject for the pencil, he was preceded by two gentlemen bearing long white wands, who kept back the eager crowd that pressed on every side to get a nearer view. At that moment I stood so near, that I might have touched his clothes; but I should as soon have thought of touching an electric battery. I was penetrated with a veneration amounting to the deepest awe. Nor was this the feeling of a schoolboy only; it pervaded, I believe, every human being that approached Washington; and I have been told that, even in his social and convivial hours, this feeling in those who were honored to share them never suffered intermission. I saw him a hundred times afterward, but never with any other than that same feeling. The Almighty, who raised up for our hour of need a man so peculiarly prepared for its whole dread responsibility, seems to have put an impress of sacredness upon his own instrument. The first sight of the man struck the heart with involuntary homage, and prepared everything around him to obey, When he 'addressed himself to speak,' there was an unconscious suspension of the breath, while every eye was raised in expectation.

“At the time I speak of, he stood in profound silence, and had that statue-like air which mental greatness alone can bestow. As he turned to enter the building, and was ascending the staircase leading to the Congressional hall, I glided along unperceived, almost tinder cover of the skirts of his dress, and entered instantly after him into the lobby of the house, which was of course in session to receive him. On either hand, from the entrance, stood a large cast-iron stove; and, resolved to secure the unhoped-for privilege I had so unexpectedly obtained, I clambered, boy-like, on this stove (fortunately then not much heated), and from that favorable elevation enjoyed, for the first time (what I have since so many thousands of times witnessed with comparative indifference), an uninterrupted view of the American Congress in full session, every member in his place. Shall I be pardoned for saying its aspect was very different from what we now witness? There was an air of decorum, of composure, of reflection, of gentlemanly and polished dignity, which has fled, or lingers only with here and there a 'relic of the olden time.'

“The house seemed then as composed as the senate now is when an impressive speech is in the act of delivery. On Washington's entrance, the most profound and death-like stillness prevailed. House, lobbies, gallery, all were wrapped in the deepest attention; and the souls of that entire assemblage seemed peering from their eyes on the noble figure which deliberately, and with an unaffected but surpassing majesty, advanced up the broad aisle of the hall between ranks of standing senators and members, and slowly ascended the steps leading to the speaker's chair. I well remember, standing at the head of the senate, the tall, square, somewhat gaunt form of Mr. Jefferson; conspicuous from his scarlet waistcoat, bright blue coat, with broad, bright buttons, as well as by his quick and penetrating air, and high-boned, Scottish cast of features. There, too, stood General Knox, then secretary of war, in all the sleek rotundity of his low stature, with a bold and florid face, open, firm, and manly, in its expression. But I recollect that my boyish eye was caught by the appearance of De Yrujo, the Spanish embassador. He stood in the rear of the chair, a little on one side, covered with a splendid diplomatic dress, decorated with orders, and carrying under his arm an immense chapeau-bras, edged with white ostrich-feathers. He was a man totally different in his air and manner from all around him, and the very antipode especially of the man on whom all eyes but his seemed fixed as by a spell. I saw many other very striking figures grouped about and behind the speaker's chair, but I did not know their names, and had no one to ask: besides, I dared not open my lips.

“The president, having seated himself, remained in silence, serenely contemplating the legislature before him, whose members now resumed their seats, waiting for the speech. No house of worship, in the most solemn pauses of devotion, was ever more profoundly still than that large and crowded chamber.

“Washington was dressed precisely as Stuart has painted him in Lord Lansdowne's full-length portrait—in a full suit of the richest black velvet, with diamond knee-buckles, and square silver buckles set upon shoes japanned with the most scrupulous neatness, black silk stockings, his shirt ruffled at the breast and wrists, a light dress-sword, his hair profusely powdered, fully dressed, so as to project at the sides, and gathered behind in a silk bag, ornamented with a large rose of black ribbon. He held his cocked hat, which had a large black cockade on one side of it, in his hand, as he advanced toward the chair, and, when seated, laid it on the table.

“At length, thrusting his hand within the side of his coat, he drew forth a roll of manuscript, which he opened, and rising, held it in his hand, while in a rich, deep, full, sonorous voice, he read his opening address to Congress. His enunciation was deliberate, justly emphasized, very distinct, and accompanied with an air of deep solemnity, as being the utterance of a mind profoundly impressed with the dignity of the act in which it was occupied, conscious of the whole responsibility of its position and action, but not oppressed by it. There was ever about the man something which impressed the observer with a conviction that he was exactly and fully equal to what he had to do. He was never hurried; never negligent; but seemed ever prepared for the occasion, be it what it might. If I could express his character in one word, it would be appropriateness. In his study, in his parlor, at a levee, before Congress, at the head of the army, he seemed ever to be just what the situation required him to be. He possessed, in a degree never equalled by any human being I ever saw, the strongest, most ever-present sense of propriety. It never forsook him, and deeply and involuntarily impressed itself upon every beholder. His address was of moderate length. The topics I have, of course, forgotten; indeed, I was not of an age to appreciate them: but the air, the manner, the tones, have never left my mental vision, and even now seem to vibrate on my ear.

“A scene like this, once beheld, though in earliest youth, is never to be forgotten. It must be now fifty years ago, but I could this moment sit down and sketch the chamber, the assembly, and the man.

“Having closed the reading, he laid down the scroll, and, after a brief pause, retired, as he had entered; when the manuscript was handed, for a second reading, to Mr. Beckley, then clerk of the house, whose gentlemanly manner, clear and silver voice, and sharp articulation, I shall ever associate with the scene. When shall we again behold such a Congress and such a president?”