One hundred and twenty-seven of his letters, mostly to William Pearce, his manager at Mount Vernon during a portion of his presidency, were bought from the heirs of Pearce by the celebrated Edward Everett and now belong to the Long Island Historical Society.  These have been published.  His correspondence with Tobias Lear, for many years his private secretary, are now in the collection of Thomas K. Bixby, a wealthy bibliophile of St. Louis.  These also have been published.  The one greatest repository of papers is the Library of Congress.  Furthermore, through the unwearying activities of J. M. Toner, who devoted years to the work, the Library also has authenticated copies of many papers of which it does not possess the originals.

All told, according to Mr. Gaillard Hunt, who has them in charge, the Washington manuscripts in the Library of Congress is the largest collection of papers of one person in the world.  The collection contains about eighteen thousand papers in his own hand, press copies, or drafts in the writing of his secretaries, and many times that number of others.  As yet all except a small part are merely arranged in chronological order, but soon it is to be sumptuously bound in royal purple levant.  The color, after all, is fitting, for he was a King and he reigns still in the hearts of his countrymen.

Benjamin Franklin knew the great men of earth of his time, the princes and kings of blood royal.  Near the close of his life he wrote in his will:  “My fine crabtree walking-stick with a gold head, curiously wrought in the form of a cap of Liberty, I give to my friend, and the friend of mankind, General Washington.  If it was a sceptre, he has merited it, and would become it.”

And thus Thackeray, who knew the true from the false, the dross from pure gold:  “Which was the most splendid spectacle ever witnessed, the opening feast of Prince George in London or the resignation of Washington?  Which is the noble character for ages to admire—­yon fribble dancing in lace and spangles, or yonder hero who sheathes his sword after a life of spotless honor, a purity unreproached, a courage indomitable, and a consummate victory?  Which of these is the true gentleman?  What is it to be a gentleman?  Is it to have lofty aims, to lead a pure life, to keep your honor virgin; to have the esteem of your fellow-citizens, and the love of your fireside; to bear good fortune meekly; to suffer evil with constancy; and through evil or good to maintain truth always?  Show me the happy man whose life exhibits these qualities, and him will we salute as gentleman, whatever his rank may be; show me the prince who possesses them, and he may be sure of our love and loyalty.”

’Tis often distance only that lends enchantment, but it is Washington’s proud pre-eminence that he can bear the microscope.  Having read thousands of his letters and papers dealing with almost every conceivable subject in the range of human affairs, I yet feel inclined, nay compelled, to bear witness to the greatness of his heart, soul and understanding.  He was human.  He had his faults.  He made his mistakes.  But I would not detract a line from any eulogium of him ever uttered.  Words have never yet been penned that do him justice.