The tomb containing the General, and his lady, and brother, and others of this renowned family, might be mistaken for a dog-kennel, or a mound, much resembling a potatoe grave in England. It is situated at the extremity of the garden, and on the brow of a hill. No monument marks it. Evergreen cedars of Lebanon grow thick upon it, a branch of which is often stolen as a sacred relique. I bore away one for the king of England. In like manner did the Russian minister carry one to his Imperial master, Alexander. No pilgrim is forbidden [471] thus to pilfer. The tomb is formed by excavating the earth, and then arching it over with bricks; three feet of earth is then cast on to the arch, which completely hides every thing but the entrance at one end, through a door, formed of half inch fir board, now rotting away. Such a door would disgrace an English pig-stye. Were pigs to range here, they would soon enter the tomb, which was built by the brother of the late General, the latter of whom is to sleep here until a national grave is made by lottery. Graves and cathedrals are raised, in this country, by means of lotteries!
While seated on this monumental hill, I exclaimed with Gray. "The paths of glory lead but to the grave." Mr. Elliot replied. "Why, Sir, I look on my grave, already made, with pleasure, and in the same manner as a weary traveller does to a down bed at the end of a long journey. I anticipate, with joy, the rest which there awaits me." "Such a feeling," said I, "is desirable, but how few the number of those who so feel!"
We were next taken to the green-houses, which in winter, are filled with all species of choice exotics, from all quarters of the earth, gifts to the late General. They now stand out in front of the green-house, with myrtles, oranges, and lemons, ripe, and in great abundance. There are aloes too of enormous size; plantains, mace, and coffee trees. [472] I gathered ripe coffee, which is contained in a kind of rich fruit or berry, of delicious flavor. The pine-apple also bears in the green-house, but it seemed in a withering state.
The approach to the house is marked by negro huts, and negroes of all ages, male and female. In the General's time, all was well managed, particularly the farm and gardens. He, the Cincinnatus of his time, was up early, and always vigilant. Now all is ruin, and ruin personified mourns for him.
The Judge is cold and reserved in his manners, and more than commonly plain in his dress. He seems to be between fifty and sixty years of age, of small stature, and lean habit of body. His features possess but little expression, and he is, indeed, as unlike the late General, as any man in the United States.
After having seen all we wished, we re-entered the house to thank the Judge, but he appeared no more, simply sending a message that we were "welcome, and he hoped pleased." He is, we were informed, an amiable, good man, but of limited knowledge. We appeared, in his esteem, as sabbath-breakers. On this account he excused his inhospitality to us; and, besides, the saying of the late General, "I would not trust any man an inch beyond my nose, who would set an open example of sabbath-breaking," might rise in his recollection much to our prejudice. I felt the [473] Judge's answer to us as a reproof, because I hold it essential to the good of society that Christian sabbaths should be respected.
The scenery in the neighbourhood of the house and estate is very interesting. The umbrageous mount, on which the house stands, is a mile high from the shores of the great Potowmac, which is here two or three miles broad.
The British, and all the foreign diplomatic personages, visited this spot by water, and with the marine band saluted it with solemn dirges. Our guide told us that none but great gentlemen were permitted to see the house and gardens on Sunday. I asked if the Judge preached or kept a parson? He himself reads prayers, morning and evening, and therefore keeps no parson.
From an attentive perusal of the American history, and a close examination of the character of Washington, says Mr. ——, it appears to me that the principal faculty of his mind was judgment, which always led him to avoid the dangers of precipitancy, and the errors which sometimes result from a more vivid and brilliant imagination. The dictates of that judgment constituted the line of his conduct, which was of course marked with the most consummate prudence. This virtue seems never to have deserted him, either as a statesman or a warrior, in a public or private capacity. His prudence and caution were particularly observable in his military career, and, like Pericles, he never [474] willingly came to an engagement, when the danger was considerable, and the success very uncertain; nor did he envy the glory of those Generals, who are admired and applauded, because their rash enterprizes have been attended with success. He had many difficulties to encounter, but these difficulties were readily surmounted. Patriotism animated him, and prudence conducted him to triumph. With a limited education and little patronage, he paved his way to greatness, and by his virtues, cast a blaze of glory around his character, which time can only increase, and which posterity must contemplate with enthusiasm and rapture. There is no parallel for such a man in the annals of the world; so singular a combination of virtues with so few vices. Such disinterested patriotism and such unimpeachable integrity, with so many temptations to swerve and so many inducements to betray, were never before united. Immoveable in the hour of danger, no difficulties could shake, no terrors appal him. He was always the same, in the glare of prosperity, and in the gloom of adversity. Like Fabricius, he could not be moved from the paths of virtue and honor, and like Epaminondas, he made every thing bend to the interests of his country. His country was his idol, and patriotism the predominant feeling of his mind. Personal aggrandizement and individual resentment and interest, were alike sacrificed to this overwhelming passion, which no difficulty could [475] weaken and no neglect destroy. Washington was reserved, without being haughty; religious, without being bigotted; great in all stations, and sublime in all his actions, whether he moved in the sphere of domestic obscurity, or employed his energies in wielding the destinies of his country. Antiquity would have made him a god. Posterity will make him more. Every nation can boast of its heroes, its statesmen, and its bards, but there are few that have produced their Washingtons. He stands alone in the history of the world, and will be venerated while virtue and patriotism have an influence on human action.
"You will, (says the same eulogist,) no doubt, be astonished to understand, that the remains of this great and excellent man still repose in a humble sepulchre on the estate at which he resided, and from which, like Cincinnatus, he was several times called by his country. The Americans are certainly not ungrateful, but they seem to have an aversion to perpetuate a man's name by "monumental brass," or to express their gratitude by splendid tombs, or ponderous and magnificent mausolea. Your long acquaintance with Westminster Abbey, where the high and the low, the great and the obscure, the good man and the villain, are alike honoured by their country or their friends, may, perhaps, draw from you a burst of indignation, at the imaginary apathy and indifference of this great republic, to the memory [476] and past services of its illustrious dead, but I question whether it be not correct policy. To begin would be to have no end, and the erection of a monument to Washington might terminate, as in Russia, with a monument to a dog. Since the invention of writing, and the present extent of knowledge, the "storied urn and animated bust," have become almost useless. History will record with fidelity the illustrious actions of him who has deserved well of his country, and his name will be as perpetual as if Pelion had been piled on Ossa, to preserve his memory. It was doubtless owing to the want of this art, that the humble tumuli of the Celts, and the massy pyramids of the Egyptians, were formed; they had no other mode of expressing their gratitude, or of perpetuating the memory of their dead. After all, perhaps, the best monument is "to read their history in a nation's eyes.