Martha Washington.
215. Washington retires to Private Life.—Beloved and honored by a whole people, but weary of public life, Washington at last retired to his beautiful and beloved Mount Vernon to enjoy a well-earned repose. He took up his former manner of living. He began to repair his buildings and to improve his estate. His good wife, Martha, said that she and the general when he left the presidency felt like children just released from school, and she spoke of her satisfaction in settling down again to the "duties of an old-fashioned Virginia housekeeper, steady as a clock, busy as a bee, and cheerful as a cricket."
Washington was a model farmer. He gave personal attention to every detail. He rode on horseback ten or fifteen miles every morning, looking after his estate and its servants. Two o'clock was the dinner hour; three o'clock if there were guests of importance. The general would not wait more than five minutes for any guest, however distinguished. So much time he allowed for the difference of watches. "My cook," said he, "does not ask whether the guests have arrived, but whether the hour has."
Washington's dress and appearance were very simple. "How shall I know him?" asked a gentleman who was about to ride off in search of him.
"You will meet, sir," replied his friend, "an old gentleman riding alone in plain drab clothes, a broad-brimmed white hat, a hickory switch in his hand, and an umbrella with a long staff attached to his saddle-bow. That person, sir, is General Washington."
A pleasant story is told by a gentleman who was a guest at Mount Vernon. It seems that he coughed much during the early part of the night. "After some time had elapsed," said the guest, "the door of my room was gently opened, and, on drawing my bed curtains, I saw Washington himself, standing at my bedside, with a bowl of hot tea in his hand."
No wish for power, or regret at being no longer before the eyes of the world, ever disturbed the happiness of Washington in his retirement. A little over two years now passed happily at the great mansion, with its generous living and its gracious hospitality.
216. Sickness and Death; Universal Sorrow.—One day in December, 1799, while taking his usual ride on horseback Washington was exposed to rain, hail, and snow, with a raw wind blowing. The next day his family noticed that he had a slight cold, but he paid no heed to such trifling ailments.
The next day he was much worse, breathed with difficulty, and could hardly speak. His mind was perfectly clear, and he believed he should not get well. He was never unprepared for death. The same night he passed away.
Mourning spread over the whole country. In foreign lands as well as at home the news was received with sincerest sorrow. The American people felt that they had indeed lost their protector, the Father of his Country.