* * *
Sacred in this mansion hoary,
’Neath its roof-tree
long ago
Dwelt the father of our glory,
He whose name appalled the
foe.
Mary E. Monell.
* * *
From this brief outline, it will be seen that the building is singularly associated with the history of the Old as well as of the New World: with the former through the original grantee of the land, recalling the wars which devastated the Palatinate and sent its inhabitants, fugitive and penniless, to other parts of Europe and to America; through his successor with the Huguenots of France, and, through the public meetings which assembled here, and especially through its occupation by Washington, with the struggle for American independence.
In the spring of 1782 Washington made this building his headquarters, and remained here until August 18, 1783, on the morning of which day he took his departure from Newburgh. At this place he passed through the most trying period of the Revolution: the year of inactivity on the part of Congress, of distress throughout the country, and of complaint and discontent in the army, the latter at one time bordering on revolt among the officers and soldiers.
It was at this place, on the 22d day of May, 1782, that Colonel Nicola, on behalf of himself and others, proposed that Washington should become king, for the “national advantage,” a proposal that was received by Washington with “surprise and astonishment,” “viewed with abhorrence,” and “reprehended with severity.” The temptation which was thus repelled by Washington, had its origin with that portion of the officers of the army, who while giving their aid heartily to secure an independent government, nevertheless believed that that government should be a monarchy. The rejection of the proposition by Washington was not the only significant result. The rank and file of the army rose up against it, and around their camp-fires chanted their purpose in Billings’ song, “No King but God!” From that hour a republic became the only possible form of government for the enfranchised Colonies.
* * *
With silvered locks and eyes grown dim,
As victory’s sun proclaimed
the morn,
He pushed aside the diadem
With stern rebuke and patriot
scorn.
Wallace Bruce.
* * *


