“Let me conjure you,” he wrote, “if you have any regard for your country, concern for yourself, or respect for me, to banish these thoughts from your mind, and never communicate, as from yourself or any one else, a sentiment of like nature.”

It was perhaps the first time in the history of the world that men had witnessed the like.  Soon afterwards, the army was disbanded, and Washington, proceeding to Annapolis, where the Congress was in session, resigned his commission as commander-in-chief.  There are some who consider that the greatest scene in history—­the hero sheathing his sword “after a life of spotless honor, a purity unreproached, a courage indomitable, and a consummate victory.”

A private citizen again, Washington returned quietly to his estate at Mount Vernon.  But he could not remain there—­the country needed him too badly, and his great work was yet to do.  For let us remember that his great work was not the leading of the American army to victory, not the securing of independence, but the establishment of this Republic.  More than of any other man was this the work of Washington.  He saw the feeble Confederation breaking to pieces, now that the stress of danger was removed; he beheld the warring interests and petty jealousies of statesmen who yet remained colonial; but he was determined that out of these thirteen jarring colonies should come a nation; and when the convention to form a constitution met at Philadelphia, he presided over it, and it was his commanding will which brought a constitution out of a turmoil of selfish interests, through difficulties and past obstacles which would have discouraged any other man.

And, the Constitution once adopted, all men turned to Washington to start the new Nation on her great voyage.  Remember, there was no government, only some written pages saying that a government was to be; it was Washington who converted that idea into a reality, who brought that government into existence.  It was a venture new to history; a Republic founded upon principles which, however admirable in the abstract, had been declared impossible to embody in the life of a nation.  And yet, eight years later, when Washington retired from the presidency, he left behind him an effective government, with an established revenue, a high credit, a strong judiciary, a vigorous foreign policy, and an army which had repressed insurrections, and which already showed the beginnings of a truly national spirit.

At the end of his second term as President, the country demanded that he accept a third; the country, without Washington at the head of it, seemed to many people like a ship on a dangerous sea without a pilot.  But he had guided her past the greatest dangers, and he refused a third term, setting a precedent which no man in the country’s history has been strong enough to disregard.  In March, 1797, he was back again at Mount Vernon, a private citizen.

He looked forward to and hoped for long years of quiet, but it was not to be.  On December 12, 1799, he was caught by a rain and sleet storm, while riding over his farm, and returned to the house chilled through.  An illness followed, which developed into pneumonia, and three days later he was dead.