but they were the work of his ministers and of wicked advisers.  The king could do no wrong, and this pleasant theory, which is untrue in fact, amounts to saying that Washington had no opinions, but was simply a grand and imposing figure-head.  The only ground for it which is even suggested is that he sought advice, that he used other men’s ideas, and that he made up his mind slowly.  All this is true, and these very qualities help to show his greatness, for only small minds mistake their relations with the universe, and confuse their finite powers with omniscience.  The great man, who sees facts and reads the future, uses other men, knows the bounds of possibility in action, can decide instantly if need be, but leaves rash conclusions to those who are incapable of reaching any others.  In reality there never was a man who had more definite and vigorous opinions than Washington, and the responsibility which he bore he never shifted to other shoulders.  The work of the Revolution and the presidency, whether good or bad, was his own, and he was ready to stand or fall by it.

There is a still further extension of the idea that Washington represented all parties and all views, and had neither party nor opinions of his own.  This theory is to the effect that he was great by character alone, but that in other respects he did not rise above the level of dignified common-place.  Such, for instance, is apparently the view of Mr. Parton, who in a clever essay discusses in philosophical fashion the possible advantages arising from the success attained by mere character, as in the case of Washington.  Mr. Parton points his theory by that last incident of counting the pulse as death drew nigh.  How characteristic, he exclaims, of the methodical, common-place man, is such an act.  It was not common, be it said, even were it common-place.  It was certainly a very simple action, but rare enough so far as we know on the every-day deathbed, or in the supreme hour of dying greatness, and it was wholly free from that affectation which Dr. Johnson thought almost inseparable from the last solemn moment.  Irregularity is not proof of genius any more than method, and of the two, the latter is the surer companion of greatness.  The last hour of Washington showed that calm, collected courage which had never failed in war or peace; and so far it was proof of character.  But was it not something more?  The common-place action of counting the pulse was in reality profoundly characteristic, for it was the last exhibition of the determined purpose to know the truth, and grasp the fact.  Death was upon him; he would know the fact.  He had looked facts in the face all his life, and when the mists gathered, he would face them still.