Six months later, in New York, he was “indisposed with a bad cold, and at home all day writing letters on private business,” and this was the beginning of “a severe illness,” which, according to McVickar, was “a case of anthrax, so malignant as for several days to threaten mortification.  During this period Dr. Bard never quitted him.  On one occasion, being left alone with him, General Washington, looking steadily in his face, desired his candid opinion as to the probable termination of his disease, adding, with that placid firmness which marked his address, ’Do not flatter me with vain hopes; I am not afraid to die, and therefore can bear the worst!’ Dr. Bard’s answer, though it expressed hope, acknowledged his apprehensions.  The President replied, ’Whether to-night or twenty years hence, makes no difference.’” It was of this that Maclay wrote, “Called to see the President.  Every eye full of tears.  His life despaired of.  Dr. MacKnight told me he would trifle neither with his own character nor the public expectation; his danger was imminent, and every reason to expect that the event of his disorder would be unfortunate.”

During his convalescence the President wrote to a correspondent, “I have the pleasure to inform you, that my health is restored, but a feebleness still hangs upon me, and I am much incommoded by the incision, which was made in a very large and painful tumor on the protuberance of my thigh.  This prevents me from walking or sitting.  However, the physicians assure me that it has had a happy effect in removing my fever, and will tend very much to the establishment of my general health; it is in a fair way of healing, and time and patience only are wanting to remove this evil.  I am able to take exercise in my coach, by having it so contrived as to extend myself the full length of it.”  He himself seems to have thought this succession of illness due to the fatigues of office, for he said,—­

“Public meetings, and a dinner once a week to as many as my table will hold, with the references to and from the different department of state and other communications with all parts of the Union, are as much, if not more, than I am able to undergo; for I have already had within less than a year, two severe attacks, the last worst than the first.  A third, more than probable, will put me to sleep with my fathers.  At what distance this may be I know not.  Within the last twelve months I have undergone more and severer sickness, than thirty preceding years afflicted me with.  Put it all together I have abundant reason, however, to be thankful that I am so well recovered; though I still feel the remains of the violent affection of my lungs; the cough, pain in my breast, and shortness in breathing not having entirely left me.”

While at Mount Vernon in 1794, “an exertion to save myself and horse from falling among the rocks at the Lower Falls of the Potomac (whither I went on Sunday morning to see the canal and locks),... wrenched my back in such a manner as to prevent my riding;” the “hurt” “confined me whilst I was at Mount Vernon,” and it was some time before he could “again ride with ease and safety.”  In this same year Washington was operated on by Dr. Tate for cancer,—­the same disorder from which his mother had suffered.