man with whom every one agreed,
who belonged to no party, and favored all; then he is pushed quietly
aside. Evils and wrong-doing existed under his administration from the
opposition point of view, 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