The differences between France and America were now assuming an alarming aspect. The French government, in the recall of Mr. Monroe, had refused to receive his successor. In view of this fact, and of the capture of American vessels by French cruisers, President Adams convened an extra session of Congress on the 15th of May. Three special envoys to France were appointed by Mr. Adams, who, it was hoped, would be able to adjust all differences by a treaty between the two powers. Their mission was unsuccessful. The Directory now believing that the PEOPLE of America would not sustain their government in a war against France, enacted a law subjecting to capture and condemnation neutral vessels and their cargoes, if any portion of the latter was of British production, although the entire property belonged to neutrals. As the United States were at this time the great neutral carriers, this decree struck at a vital point in their maritime power. When this act became known the spirit of the nation was aroused, and war with France seemed inevitable. The government resolved on vigorous measures; the President was authorized to enlist ten thousand men, and the Senate nominated Washington commander-in-chief of all the armies raised or to be raised. The Secretary of War bore the commission to Washington in person, who accepted the commission with great reluctance, with the condition that he should not be called into the field until the army was in a situation to require his presence. Hamilton, Pinckney, and Knox were appointed major-generals. Knox, indignant at being placed below those who were his juniors in the war of the Revolution, refused to serve.
These military measures soon had their effect on French policy. President Adams received intimations that whatever plenipotentiary the United States might send to France to put an end to the existing differences between the two countries, would be received with the respect due to the representative of a free, independent, and powerful nation. Mr. Adams, glad to escape from his belligerent difficulties, laid these facts before the Senate on the 18th of February, (1799), and nominated Mr. Murray as envoy. Oliver Ellsworth and Mr. Davie were ultimately associated with him in the mission. They sailed on the 3d of the following November.]
Washington continued to superintend from a distance the concerns of the army, as his ample and minute correspondence manifests; and he was at the same time earnestly endeavoring to bring the affairs of his rural domain into order. It was a period of incessant activity and toil, therefore, both mental and bodily. He was for hours in his study occupied with his pen, and for hours on horseback, riding the rounds of his extensive estate, visiting the various farms, and superintending the works in operation. All this he did with unfailing vigor, though now in his sixty-seventh year.
Winter had now set in, with occasional wind and rain and frost, yet Washington still kept up his active round of in-door and out-door avocations, as his diary records. He was in full health and vigor, dined out occasionally, and had frequent guests at Mount Vernon. For some time past he had been occupied in digesting a complete system on which his estate was to be managed for several succeeding years; specifying the cultivation of the several farms, with tables designating the rotations of the crops. It occupied thirty folio pages, and was executed with that clearness and method which characterized all his business papers. This was finished on the 10th of December, and was accompanied by a letter of that date to his manager or steward.
According to his diary, the morning on which these voluminous instructions to his steward were dated was clear and calm, but the afternoon was lowering. The next day (11th), he notes that there was wind and rain, and "at night a large circle round the moon." The morning of the 12th was overcast. About ten o'clock he mounted his horse, and rode out as usual to make the rounds of the estate. The ominous ring round the moon, which he had observed on the preceding night, proved a fatal portent. "About one o'clock," he notes, "it began to snow, soon after to hail, and then turned to a settled cold rain." Having on an overcoat, he continued his ride without regarding the weather, and did not return to the house until after three. His secretary approached him with letters to be franked, that they might be taken to the post-office in the evening. Washington franked the letters, but observed that the weather was too bad to send a servant out with them. Mr. Lear perceived that snow was hanging from his hair, and expressed fears that he had got wet; but he replied, "No, his great coat had kept him dry." As dinner had been waiting for him he sat down to table without changing his dress. "In the evening," writes his secretary, "he appeared as well as usual."
On the following morning the snow was three inches deep and still falling, which prevented him from taking his usual ride. He complained of a sore throat, and had evidently taken cold the day before. In the afternoon the weather cleared up, and he went out on the grounds between the house and the river, to mark some trees which were to be cut down. A hoarseness which had hung about him through the day grew worse towards night, but he made light of it. He was very cheerful in the evening, as he sat in the parlor with Mrs. Washington and Mr. Lear, amusing himself with the papers which had been brought from the post-office.
On retiring to bed, Mr. Lear suggested that he should take something to relieve the cold. "No," replied he, "you know I never take anything for a cold. Let it go as it came." In the night he was taken extremely ill with ague and difficulty of breathing. Between two and three o'clock in the morning he awoke Mrs. Washington, who would have risen to call a servant; but he would not permit her, lest she should take cold. At daybreak, when the servant woman entered to make a fire, she was sent to call Mr. Lear. He found the general breathing with difficulty, and hardly able to utter a word intelligibly. Washington desired that Dr. Craik, who lived in Alexandria, should be sent for, and that in the meantime, Rawlins, one of the overseers, should be summoned to bleed him before the doctor could arrive.
A gargle was prepared for his throat, but whenever he attempted to swallow any of it, he was convulsed and almost suffocated. Rawlins made his appearance soon after sunrise, but when the general's arm was ready for the operation became agitated. "Don't be afraid," said the general, as well as he could speak. Rawlins made an incision. "The orifice is not large enough," said Washington. The blood, however, ran pretty freely, and Mrs. Washington, uncertain whether the treatment was proper, and fearful that too much blood might be taken, begged Mr. Lear to stop it. When he was about to untie the string the general put up his hand to prevent him, and as soon as he could speak, murmured, "more—more;" but Mrs. Washington's doubts prevailed, and the bleeding was stopped, after about half a pint of blood had been taken. External applications were now made to the throat, and his feet were bathed in warm water, but without affording any relief. His old friend, Dr. Craik, arrived between eight and nine, and two other physicians, Drs. Dick and Brown, were called in. Various remedies were tried, and additional bleeding, but all of no avail.
"About half-past four o'clock," writes Mr. Lear, "he desired me to call Mrs. Washington to his bedside, when he requested her to go down into his room and take from his desk two wills, which she would find there, and bring them to him, which she did. Upon looking at them, he gave her one, which he observed was useless, as being superseded by the other, and desired her to burn it, which she did, and took the other and put it into her closet."
In the course of the afternoon he appeared to be in great pain and distress from the difficulty of breathing, and frequently changed his posture in the bed. About five o'clock his old friend, Dr. Craik, came again into the room, and approached the bedside. "Doctor," said the general, "I die hard, but I am not afraid to go. I believed, from my first attack, that I should not survive it—my breath cannot last long." The doctor pressed his hand in silence, retired from the bedside, and sat by the fire absorbed in grief.