Naturally a very modest
man, and utterly devoid of any pretense, he underrated, as a matter of
fact, his own accomplishments. He distrusted himself so much that he
always turned to Hamilton, both during the Revolution and afterwards,
as well as in the preparation of the farewell address, to aid him in
clothing his thoughts in a proper dress, which he felt himself unable
to give them. His tendency was to be too diffuse and too involved,
but as a rule his style was sufficiently clear, and he could express
himself with nervous force when the occasion demanded, and with a
genuine and stately eloquence when he was deeply moved, as in the
farewell to Congress at the close of the war. It is not a little
remarkable that in his letters after the first years there is nothing
to betray any lack of early training. They are the letters, not of a
scholar or a literary man, but of an educated gentleman; and although
he seldom indulged in similes or allusions, when he did so they were
apt and correct. This was due to his perfect sanity of mind, and to
his aversion to all display or to any attempt to shine in borrowed
plumage. He never undertook to speak or write on any subject, or to
make any reference, which he did not understand. He was a lover of
books, collected a library, and read always as much as his crowded
life would permit. When he was at Newburgh, at the close of the war,
he wrote to Colonel Smith in New York to send him the following
books:--
"Charles the XIIth of Sweden.
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