viii Sketches of Gen* Washington's Private Character, 



like a gentleman. But I have ever considered it incompati- 

 ble with the propensities oi a candid mind, to practice the 

 hypocrisy and insincerity of politeness, by affecting emotions 

 not felt. What is C2i[\td. gi-aciousness^ if it be indiscriminate- 

 ly exercised, justifies (in my view of it) this remark. The 

 address of a man ofthexvorld^ politely, but noi (according to 

 his expectations) gradously received, would induce him to 

 attribute it to general coldness of character ; lest it should 

 appear, that there was something particular in his case. 



In his family he was beloved. His affectionate attentions to 

 one of the worthiest and best of women, were alwavs con- 

 spicuous ; and tenderly and constantly reciprocated by her. 

 He zvoidd be obeyed, but his servants were devoted to him ; 

 and especially those more immediately about his person. 

 The survivors of them still venerate and adore his memory.* 



The w^orld are in possession of the facts, on which his pub- 

 lic CHARACTER is established. Whatever opinions may be 

 formed as to his having been a great man, (of which I 

 never doubted, though I enter into no discussions on this sub- 

 ject) those who enjoyed his friendship, and intimate ac- 

 quaintance, must all. agree, that a better man could not be 

 found. If history should deem herself too elevated, to record 



* His old and much valued servant William (a man of colour, once a slave, and known through 

 tiie anny ; and by all who wei-e acquainted in the General's family) still lives at Mount Fernon; 

 uhere he is kindly and tenderly treated by its present propiietor, Judge Washim^on. He is much 

 of a cripple ; beiug afflicted with the rheumatism ; the consequence of his campaigns with his 

 master. His fi-equent/JiVgr^fjog-eis perfonned to his mastei-'s tomb, on his sticks or crutches. Agen- 

 tlenjan a few months ago, had the curiosity to talk ^\ith William ; who is intelligent and not dis- 

 inclined to conversation, though not forward in loquacity. He treats the affairs of the world as 

 matters in which he has now little concern, except as a lookei-'On. He observed—" And so I hear 

 they talk of going to war.— What ! go to war, now my old master is dead ! No, no,— that wont do ; 

 let them wait, before they go to Avai-, 'till they get such another. But they will first have a long— 

 long— peace indeed :— and so much the better. They would not like war, if they knew a* much 

 about it as we did:'' 



To ajiother visitant at Mount Venion— he was relating wai* occurrences. He stopped in his 

 narrative-" Now we come to what passed in a way, that my master never tliought I should 

 spealv of it :— so I always skip such things." 



Much honour, it is truQ, camiot be derived fixim the eulogies of such men. But it is an evidence 

 of the kind treatment bis scn'ants received, when their gratitude is thus strongly, and disinterest- 

 edly, expressed. 



