A Tale of Two Eulogies: George Washington’s and Our Own

Emanuel Leutze's painting titled "George Washington Crossing the Delaware," from 1851. The Metropolitan Museum of Art

Henry Lee (1756–1818) was a hero of the Revolutionary War. Known as “Light Horse Harry” for his skills as a rider and a leader of cavalry, he fought and won many battles against the British. After the war, he served three one-year terms as governor of Virginia, was elected to the U.S. House of Representatives, and was a close friend of George Washington.

For all these reasons, following Washington’s death on December 14, 1799, Congress unanimously chose Lee to write the deceased president’s eulogy, to put down on paper and for posterity “those sentiments of respect for the character, of the gratitude for the service, and of grief for the death of that illustrious personage.”

Despite all of Lee’s accomplishments, today it is this eulogy for which he is best known.

A Testimony to Character

This 3,500-word tribute to Washington reflects both Lee’s flamboyant personality and the literary style of his time. For most modern readers, the language appears overblown and flowery. Here, for instance, is part of a long sentence describing Washington as a military leader: “Moving in his own orbit, he imparted heat and light to his most distant satellites; and combining the physical and moral force of all within his sphere, with irresistible weight he took his course, commiserating folly, disdaining vice, dismaying treason, and invigorating despondency ...”

Had the eulogy continued in this manner, it’s likely that only historians would remember it today. But two paragraphs near the end earned Lee and his remarks a place of honor in our nation’s memory.

“First in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen, he was second to none in the humble and endearing scenes of private life: Pious, just, humane, temperate, and sincere; uniform, dignified, and commanding, his example was as edifying to all around him as were the effects of that example lasting.

“To his equals he was condescending, to his inferiors kind, and to the dear object of his affections exemplarily tender. Correct throughout, vice shuddered in his presence, and virtue always felt his fostering hand; the purity of his private character gave effulgence to his public virtues.”

Those 14 words—"First in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen”— became a part of the American lexicon. They are still taught to some schoolchildren and are featured in history books, biographies, and articles.

Here again, Lee’s language may strike today’s readers as effusive, overly poetic, or even archaic. In the 18th century, for instance, condescending as used by Lee was a compliment, meaning that one treated others as equals.

What stands out in this part of the eulogy, however, is that Lee directly addressed Washington’s character, not his deeds, and it was his character, not his education, wealth, or military expertise, that gave rise to his deeds. “Character is destiny,” the Greek philosopher Heraclitus wrote long ago. In Washington’s case, truer words were never spoken.

When Our Time Comes

Whether we read Lee’s farewell salute to George Washington or hear words delivered over a modest casket in a country church, we may find ourselves wondering what tribute, if any, may be offered us at our own funeral.

Some people of my acquaintance have mocked the very idea of such a testimonial, declaring that they couldn’t care less what was said of them after they’d quit breathing, that it made not a whit of difference as they wouldn’t be there to hear the words. A Christian I know once argued in a similar vein, believing that only God’s judgment of him mattered, not the opinions of those he left behind.

On the other extreme are those people who write their own eulogies, not as some classroom exercise in self-awareness but for real. They then charge either a relative or friend with delivering these written remarks, or do so themselves through a recording. Should they require assistance with this composition, there are online outfits that will, for a fee, produce eulogies on demand. Answer a few questions, and up pops your farewell to the world.

So, no eulogy, a manufactured eulogy, or the more conventional eulogy delivered by a son, daughter, or friend. Bases covered, right?

Wrong.

Your Eulogistic Scrapbook

The truth is, we compose our eulogies every day of our lives.

From the moment they learn of our death, everyone who knows us—our spouse, our children and grandchildren, our friends and our enemies (and most of us have them), the people we worked with—will take immediate stock of what they thought and felt about us. Some will be heartbroken, some indifferent, some perhaps secretly pleased, but whatever the case, they will summon up memories of us and our character. Some will carry these memories for the rest of their lives.

For evidence of these interior assessments, we have only to turn to some of our other presidents. Abraham Lincoln, for example, revered his mother Nancy, who died when he was nine. “All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel Mother,” he once said. Theodore Roosevelt felt the same about his father, who died when Roosevelt was 19. He later wrote, “My father, Theodore Roosevelt, was the best man I ever knew. He combined strength and courage with gentleness, tenderness, and great unselfishness.” John Quincy Adams wrote in his journal of his mother Abigail, “My mother was an angel upon earth.” Later he wrote of her, “She has been a spirit from above watching over me for good, and contributing by my mere consciousness of her existence to the comfort of my life. That consciousness is gone, and without her the world feels to me like a solitude.”

Like them, we too carry testimonies, positive and negative, of those who influenced our lives, even in small ways. We remember Grandpa for his kind heart, virtue, and wisdom, and hope to emulate him, or as a small-souled, embittered man of few principles whom we pity and whose example we disdain.

These are the eulogies that count.

The Washington Way

George Washington earned Henry Lee’s high praise by a lifetime of attention to personal demeanor and the practice of virtue. From adolescence, our first president held himself to a code of morality and uprightness. Consequently, as Lee underscored near the end of his eulogy, Washington served as an example “edifying to all around him.”

In contrast, “Light Horse Harry” Lee died with his reputation in tatters as a reprobate, wastrel, and swindler who died in debt and self-inflicted poverty. Like Washington, and like the rest of us, Lee wrote his own eulogy by the way he conducted his life.

Our true eulogy is embedded in our reputation and our character. All the rest is dust.