Always of a serious and practical turn of mind, he made improvements in the cultivation of his estates, embellished his mansion-house, occupied himself with the local interests of Virginia, traced the outline of that great system of internal navigation from east to west, which was destined, at a future period, to put the United States in possession of one-half the new world, established schools, put his papers in order, carried on an extensive correspondence, and took great pleasure in receiving, under his roof, and at his table, his attached friends. "It is my wish," he wrote to one of them, a few days after his return to Mount Vernon, "that the mutual friendship and esteem, which have been planted and fostered in the tumult of public life, may not wither and die in the serenity of retirement. We should rather amuse the evening hours of life in cultivating the tender plants, and bringing them to perfection before they are transplanted to a happier clime." [Footnote 45]
[Footnote 45: Washington's Writings, Vol. IX. p. 5.]
Towards the end of the year 1784, M. de Lafayette came to Mount Vernon. Washington felt for him a truly paternal affection, the tenderest, perhaps, of which his life presents any trace. Apart from the services rendered by him, from the personal esteem he inspired, and from the attractiveness of his character, apart even from the enthusiastic devotion which M. de Lafayette testified for him, this elegant and chivalrous young nobleman, who had escaped from the court of Versailles to dedicate his sword and his fortune to the yeomanry of America, was singularly pleasing to the grave American general. It was, as it were, a homage paid by the nobility of the old world to his cause and his person; a sort of connecting tie between him and that French society, which was so brilliant, so intellectual, and so celebrated. In his modest elevation of mind, he was flattered as well as touched by it, and his thoughts rested with an emotion full of complacency upon this young friend, whose life was like that of none other, and who had quitted every thing to serve by his side.
"In the moment of our separation," he wrote to him, "upon the road as I traveled, and every hour since, I have felt all that love, respect, and attachment for you, with which length of years, close connection, and your merits have inspired me. I often asked myself, as our carriages separated, whether that was the last sight I should ever have of you. And though I wished to say No, my fears answered Yes. I called to mind the days of my youth, and found they had long since fled to return no more; that I was now descending the hill I had been fifty-two years climbing, and that, though I was blest with a good constitution, I was of a short-lived family, and might soon expect to be entombed in the mansion of my fathers. These thoughts darkened the shades, and gave a gloom to the picture, and consequently to my prospect of seeing you again. But I will not repine; I have had my day." [Footnote 46]
[Footnote 46: Washington's Writings, Vol. IX. p. 77.]
Notwithstanding this sad presentiment, and his sincere taste for repose, his thoughts dwelt constantly upon the condition and affairs of his country. No man can separate himself from the place in which he has once held a distinguished position. "Retired as I am from the world," he writes in 1786, "I frankly acknowledge I cannot feel myself an unconcerned spectator." [Footnote 47]
[Footnote 47: Washington's Writings, Vol. IX. p. 189.]
The spectacle deeply affected and disturbed him. The Confederation was falling to pieces. Congress, its sole bond of union, was without power, not even daring to make use of the little that was intrusted to it. The moral weakness of men was added to the political weakness of institutions. The States were falling a prey to their hostilities, to their mutual distrust, to their narrow and selfish views. The treaties, which had sanctioned the national independence, were executed only in an imperfect and a precarious manner. The debts contracted, both in the old and new world, were unpaid. The taxes destined to liquidate them never found their way into the public treasury. Agriculture was languishing; commerce was declining; anarchy was extending. In all parts of the country itself, whether enlightened or ignorant, whether the blame was laid on the government, or the want of government, the discontent was general. In Europe, the reputation of the United States was rapidly sinking. It was asked if there would ever be any United States. England encouraged this doubt, looking forward to the hour when she might profit by it.