"hy 
 
 <.:^'.\. .^°^-^'.X X..^.\ 
 
 _.. v-^\«* %*^^-*/ v^^v 
 
 Sfe'v **..** .'i$!»'. v./ /^^-v \..** .:^ 
 
 'o, » 
 
 
 .♦^"V 
 ^ ^ 
 
 
 
 ^.^°^^ik>- .^*^^:^^^\ co^-^'^^o' 
 
 ^0^ 
 
 5°^ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
THEsSTOEY-OF 
 
 GEOI^ WASHINGTON 
 
FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 FOR YOUNG READERS 
 
 Titles Ready 
 
 GEORGE WASHINGTON 
 JOHN PAUL JONES 
 BENJAAHN FRANKLIN 
 DAVID CROCKETT 
 THOMAS JEFFERSON 
 •ABRAHAM LINCOLN 
 ROBERT FULTON 
 V THOMAS A. EDISON 
 HARRIET B. STOWE 
 MARY LYON 
 
 By Joseph Walker 
 
 By C. C. Fhaser 
 
 By Clark Tkee Major 
 
 By Jane Corby 
 
 By Genk Stone 
 
 By Joseph Walker 
 
 By I. N. McFee 
 
 By I. N. McFee 
 
 By R. B. MacArthur 
 
 By H. O. Stengel 
 
 Other Titles in Preparation 
 
I'roni a port rail from life l,y ( 'Albert Stiuirt 
 
W f f t- H-J 
 
 FAMOU5 AME^ANS 
 
 J 
 
 ^ THEsSTOEY-OF 
 
 GEOI^ WASHINGTON 
 
 JOSEPH WALKBli 
 
 4 
 
 
 
 BAKSB (Sl, HOPKINS 
 
 AAr ^ ^ ^ ^\ 
 
Q 
 
 ^ 
 
 e: 
 
 Copyright, 1929, 
 BY BARSE & HOPKINS 
 
 JAN 16 1922 
 
 PKINTKH IN THE U. B. A. 
 
 S)nUS54259 
 
 'w>f» i 
 
L 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 There have been so many stories written 
 about "The Father of His Country," that a 
 word of explanation, if not of excuse, seems 
 necessary in presenting this additional book. 
 Our reason is threefold. No series of "Fa- 
 mous Americans for Young Readers" would 
 be complete without the story of this foremost 
 American. Washington logically heads the 
 
 list. 
 
 A second reason rests in the fact that too 
 many of the biographies of Washington are 
 either written for older readers, or else go to 
 the other extreme of hero worship. Washing- 
 ton is placed upon a pedestal, as a cold, aloof, 
 blameless figure to be worshiped. Boys and 
 girls do not like that sort of hero; they want 
 him to be fiesb-and-blood. 
 
 The third reason is that a new generation of 
 young Americans is on its way to the control of 
 state affairs, and no better training in citizen- 
 ship can be placed in their hands than the plain, 
 unvarnished story of each of our great leaders. 
 This we have tried to give in the case of George 
 Washington — going carefully back to the early 
 documents, trying to paint a faithful portrait, 
 and supplementing the facts of history with 
 
PREFACE 
 
 just enough color of imagination to give a 
 glow of life to the canvas. Treated as a hu- 
 man being, Washington becomes a good com- 
 rade and friend whom every boy and girl 
 should know and love. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER »AGE 
 
 I. Early Home Life 9 
 
 II. The Young Surveyor 19 
 
 III. The Budding Soldier 28 
 
 IV. In the French and Indian War ... 37 
 
 I V. The Virginia Planter 47 
 
 VI. The Outbreak of the Revolution . . 56 
 
 VII. The First Months of the Revolution . 65 
 
 VIII. A Retreat that Ended in Victory . . 75 
 
 IX. Foes Without and Within .... 82 
 
 X. The Varying Fortunes of War ... 92 
 
 XI. The Surrender at Yorktown . . .101 
 
 XII. The End of Army Life Ill 
 
 XIII. Washington Tries Unsuccessfully to 
 
 Remain a Private Citizen . . . .118 
 
 XIV. President Washington 127 
 
 XV. At Home Again 145 
 
 XVI. The Passing of Washington .... 158 
 
 XVII. Washington the Man 167 
 
ILLUSTPvATIONS 
 
 George Washington Frontispiece 
 
 From a portrait by Gilbert Stuart 
 
 TAOINQ 
 PAGE 
 
 Martha Washington 48 
 
 The "Martha Custis" portrait 
 
 Washington Crossing the Delaware 78 
 
 Mount Vernon 146 
 
THE STORY OF GEORGE 
 WASHINGTON 
 
 EARLY HOME LIFE 
 
 "Do any of you children know what hap- 
 pened to my thoroughhred colt?" 
 
 The dignified-looking woman who asked 
 this question looked down the table at her 
 children and awaited a reply. Her eyes could 
 be stern at times, and now they had a look 
 which boded no good for some one. 
 
 One of the group, a boy in his early teens, 
 looked up and met the questioning glance. 
 
 "Yes, Madam, I think I do," he answered 
 quietly, but still meeting her eyes. 
 
 "And what, sirrah?" The tone was i^harp 
 as a whiplash. 
 
 "If you are speaking of the filly that no one 
 could tame," the boy answered, "I am afraid 
 that I am at fault. The colt is dead." 
 
 9 
 
10 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 "And how did that happen, pray?" 
 
 "Tlie colt was useless unbroken, as you 
 know. So ycstercve I went down to the pas- 
 ture lot with a halter, mounted the colt and 
 rode it." 
 
 "He did, ^ladam, indeed he did!" inter- 
 rupted a little maid with shining eyes. 
 "George stayed on the colt in spite of its pranc- 
 ing, and rode it all around the pasture lot. 
 None of the slaves could master it!" 
 
 "Silence!" commanded the mother sharply. 
 "ISIaids should not speak until spoken to. I 
 want George to tell his own story. What 
 killed the animal?" 
 
 "I' faith, JNladam, I fear it killed itself," 
 replied the hoy. "Its struggles were so tre- 
 mendous that 1 sought only a good opportu- 
 nity to quiet it down and dismount, when sud- 
 denly blood gushed out of its nostrils and it 
 fell over dead." 
 
 IMrs. AVashington looked at her son for a 
 full minute. Then her voice softened a trifle. 
 
 "It was an ill loss, for 'twould have made 
 the finest steed in my stables. But I can more 
 readily lose the colt, than my confidence in my 
 children." 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 11 
 
 Nothing more was said of the incident, but 
 each child took the moral personally to heart. 
 Their mother might be stern at times — she 
 was an overworked widow with a large planta- 
 tion to look after — but she was just, and she 
 could tolerate only the truth. 
 
 Virginia in those days before the Revolu- 
 tion was very different from the Virginia of 
 to-day. To begin with, it was not a state at 
 all — only a colony and a very sparsely settled 
 colony at that. The plantations where they 
 raised tobacco and corn were merely cleared 
 spots hemmed in on all sides by dense forests, 
 and connected with the outside world by mere 
 trails of roads. More often the means of 
 transportation was by river, and the back 
 country not so reached was left an undisturbed 
 hunting ground for the Indians. 
 
 The Washington family had been identified 
 with the Virginia colony almost from its start. 
 Jamestown, you v/ill remember, was founded 
 in 1607 — thirteen years before the Pilgrim 
 Fathers sighted the Massachusetts shore. In 
 1657, John Washington and his brother came 
 over from England, leaving the ancestral 
 home at Sulgrave Manor with its honored 
 
12 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 family record dating back to Henry the 
 Eighth's time, and earlier. 
 
 John Washington (who was the grand- 
 father of George) obtained a grant on the 
 Potomac River at Bridges Creek, and built a 
 house there. It was not pretentious — just a 
 plain, old-style southern farmhouse, with steep, 
 sloping roof, a big porch in front, a huge chim- 
 ney at each end with its promise of big roar- 
 ing fires in the winter time, and good things to 
 eat dangling from cranes or baking in Dutch 
 ovens almost any time. Around the house, 
 stretching along the river and running back 
 up into the hills was the plantation of nearly 
 a thousand acres.J Here as the land was 
 cleared, tobacco was planted for shipment 
 in huge bales down the river and thence to 
 England. 
 
 At John Washington's death the big pros- 
 perous plantation was handed down to his son, 
 Augustine. By his own first marriage, Au- 
 gustine had two sons, whose mother died when 
 they were five and seven years of age; they 
 were Lawrence and Augustine. Then the 
 father married again, his second wife being 
 Miss Mary Ball of Lancaster Comity, Vir- 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 13 
 
 ginla. To them was born, February 22, 1732, 
 a boy whom they christened George. 
 
 The old farmhouse on Bridges Creek must 
 have been a happy spot for the children. Be- 
 sides the two half brothers, George had 
 brothers and sisters of his own to make the 
 high-peaked attic roof ring with laughter. 
 But the family was not to enjoy the home- 
 stead long; for in 1735, when George was 
 only three years old, it caught fire and burned 
 to the ground. To-day not a stick or a stone 
 of it remains, but a memorial shaft has been 
 placed there to indicate the spot where the 
 "Father of his Country" first saw the light 
 of day. 
 
 George's father did not rebuild the house, 
 but moved into another farmhouse on another 
 plantation of his, in Stafford County, border- 
 ing on the Rappahannock River near Fred- 
 ericksburg. / This house was similar in type 
 to the one that had burned. It stood on a 
 little knoll, with an inviting stretch of green 
 sloping down to the water. Here George 
 lived until he was sixteen years old ; and many 
 a pleasant memory must have gone with him 
 through life» With his brothers and sisters 
 
14 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 he wandered over the place, building boats and 
 rafts, fishing in the stream, or hunting in the 
 woodland. Virginia in those days was a para- 
 dise for game, large and small, and many a 
 squirrel, pheasant, quail, wild pigeon and duck 
 must have graced the family board, thanks 
 to the prowess of George and his older 
 brothers. 
 
 To-day the old homestead has become only 
 a memory. It was destroyed, Hke the first 
 home, and nothing remains except descriptions 
 to tell us what it was like. It was big and 
 roomy, but very simple in its furnishings. 
 While George's father was well-to-do in lands 
 and servants and stock, he had httle ready 
 money; and the finer things of life such as 
 dress and furniture must still be brought from 
 abroad. 
 
 When George was eight years old he was 
 given a pony, named Hero, and Uncle Ben, 
 one of the old family slaves, taught him to 
 ride it. Before long he was trying to ride, 
 one after another, every horse on the place; 
 and we have already seen how his mastery of 
 the unbroken colt brought him to grief. As 
 a youngster George was also the proud pes- 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 15 
 
 sessor of a "whip top," brought over from 
 England and evidently a rarity ; for in a letter 
 to a chum, Dick Lee (who was afterwards to 
 grow up into the famous Richard Henry Lee) 
 he invites him to come over and play with it. 
 "You may see it and whip it," he says in a 
 burst of true generosity. 
 
 When George was eleven years old, he lost 
 his father. The boy's half brother Lawrence 
 was then going to school in England; so the 
 boy was left very largely on his own resources. 
 His mother had the management of the large 
 estate, as well as her household, and the chil- 
 dren were expected to assume their share of 
 the duties. This does not mean that she 
 neglected them. We know that the tie be- 
 tween George and his mother was very strong. 
 He resembled her more than his father. She 
 taught him much of his somewhat scanty educa- 
 tion. And after he was grown he always ad- 
 dressed her as "Madam," after the courtly 
 fashion of Colonial days. 
 
 In those days, it is well for us to remember, 
 etiquette for children was as strict as for their 
 elders. They arose when older folks entered 
 the room, remained standing until the latter 
 
10 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 were seated, and bowed or courtesied to 
 guests in a delightfully formal way. 
 
 George Washington was noted all through 
 life for his quiet courtesy, dignity, and charm 
 of manner — for much of whidi he was in- 
 debted to his stately mother. 
 
 As for other education, there was not funds 
 enough to send him abroad. His brother 
 Augustine had rebuilt the home at Bridges 
 Creek, and George went to live with him for 
 three or four years and attend a district 
 school taught by a ^Ir. Williams. The school 
 did not take him very far, but it gave him a 
 fair grounding in the "Three R's" — reading 
 'riting, and 'rithmetic. Beyond these funda- 
 mentals, Wasliington was largely self-taught; 
 but, like the Lincoln of later years, he acquired 
 by reading and observation a culture which 
 was distinctly his own. 
 
 There were four younger children in the 
 Washington family, for which reason the 
 mother could not afford to send George even 
 to the home college, "William and jNIary." 
 He must perforce get what he could from the 
 district school. One schoolmate relates of him 
 that he was much given to indoor study and to 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 17 
 
 •olitary walks. "His industi'y and assiduity 
 at school were very remarkable. Whilst his 
 brother and other boys at playtime were at 
 bandy and other games, he was behind the 
 door ciphering. But one youthful ebullition 
 is handed down while at that school, and that 
 was romping with one of the largest girls ; this 
 was so unusual that it excited no little com- 
 ment among the other lads." 
 
 One other memento of his school days has 
 been handed down to us. It was his exercise 
 book in writing, wherein he set down in a good 
 round hand a series of "Rules of Civility and 
 Decent Behavior in Company and Conversa- 
 tion." This old school copy-book of 1745, 
 when George was thirteen, is the earliest of 
 his manuscripts that has come down to us. 
 In spite of its somewhat damaged state, it 
 enables us to trace out some of his work at 
 school. Here are items of bookkeeping, and 
 accounting, evidently worked out painstak- 
 ingly so that he would be able shortly to aid 
 his mother in that vexatious branch of her 
 business. Scattered among these labored ex- 
 ercises are pen sketches of some of the children 
 who sat around him, and birds that he had 
 
Ig FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 seen on his walks to school. Then come the 
 "Rules of Behavior," some 110 in all. For 
 a long time they were thought to be Wash- 
 ington's own, but they have since been traced 
 back to a foreign work. Nevertheless, the 
 care with which George copied them shows 
 that they were making their impress upon his 
 character. Here are two or three random 
 selections, which we hope, are not out of fash- 
 ion to-day: 
 
 "Be not immodest in urging your Friends 
 to discover a secret. 
 
 "Sleep not when others Speak, Sit not when 
 others stand, Speak not w^ien you should hold 
 your Peace, walk not when others Stop. 
 
 "Read no Letters, Books, or Papers in Com- 
 pany but when there is a Necessity for the 
 doing of it you must ask leave. 
 
 "Talk not with meat in j^our mouth. 
 
 "Labor to keep alive in your breast that 
 little Spark of Celestial fire called Conscience." 
 
II 
 
 THE YOUNG SURVEYOR 
 
 "Are you willing for me to go, dear 
 Madam?" It was the boy who finally broke 
 the silence. George and his mother were dis- 
 cussing the dearest wish of his heart — his first 
 big ambition. He wanted to go to sea. 
 
 His brother Lawrence had lately returned 
 home telling glowing tales of campaigning; 
 for after school he had entered His Majesty's 
 service. Then the boy had watched many a 
 sloop glide down the river ; he had talked with 
 many a tar in the tobacco warehouses at Fred- 
 ericksburg. And when Lawrence told him he 
 could get him a berth as midshipman in the 
 navy, the boy was all on fire with eagerness 
 and packed up his kit to be gone. 
 
 His mother had almost yielded to his en- 
 treaties, when a letter from her brother in Eng- 
 land painting life at sea in the darkest colors 
 
 19 
 
20 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 reached her. It was only a night or two be- 
 fore he was to sail. Again the stern glance 
 with which the lad was so familiar greeted him 
 as they sat by the evening fire. The boy met 
 it as always respectfully, but without wavering 
 — a true chip of the old block. 
 
 **I will not say you must not go, as you are 
 rapidly growing to be a man, but you will 
 never go with my approval," she replied. 
 
 "Then I will not go at all," said George 
 quietly, and went upstairs and unpacked his 
 kit. 
 
 Thus His Majesty's navy lost a recruit, 
 who, however, was saved to enter a larger 
 arena. 
 
 Back to Mr. Williams' school he went for 
 another year to study survejnng, and when 
 nearly sixteen he went to visit his brother 
 Lawrence, at JMount Vernon. Now for the 
 first time the name of this fine old place be- 
 came associated with his own — a link that 
 history will never break. 
 
 Lawrence Washington was nearly twelve 
 years older than George, but had always been 
 very fond of the boy and eager to help him 
 along. La^vrence had lately returned from a 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 21 
 
 varied experience overseas. After leaving 
 school in England, he had seen active service 
 under the Union Jack with the gallant Admiral 
 Vernon, against the Spaniards, in the West 
 Indies. When the wars were over he got an 
 honorable discharge and returned to Virginia, 
 settling down on the plantation which his father 
 had left him, on the banks of the Potomac. 
 Here he built a house which he called Mount 
 Vernon, in honor of his old naval commander. 
 And here he brought home a bride. Miss Fair- 
 fax, daughter of Lord Fairfax, a choleric old 
 nobleman who lived "next door." 
 
 A word about this gentleman will be of 
 interest, as he was to exercise a considerable 
 influence upon George Washington's later 
 fortunes. He was the sixth Lord Fairfax, 
 and was a descendant of a famous Lord Fair- 
 fax who helped depose Charles the First, and 
 restore Charles the Second. All the line of 
 Fairfaxes were rich and powerful, and to a 
 later one King Charles gave an immense tract 
 of land in northern Virginia. It might have 
 lain fallow for many a long day, but for the 
 fact that the sixth Lord Fairfax got jilted by 
 an English sweetheart. In high dudgeon he 
 
22 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 turned his back upon England and every pet- 
 ticoat in it, and set sail for America and his 
 Virginia estate. He found it indeed a tre- 
 mendous possession, taking in nearly one-fifth 
 of the entire state (as it is bounded to-day). 
 But the trouble was, he did not know where 
 it began, nor where it ended, and "squatters" 
 were settling uj^on it. He needed an accurate 
 survey and map of the tract. Where he 
 would find a man to undertake such a task 
 was a perplexing question. 
 
 It was about this time that he met young 
 George Washington, a lad of sixteen, at 
 Lawrence's home. The introduction may have 
 run something like this: 
 
 *'Lord Fairfax, allow me to present my 
 brother George." 
 
 "Humph!" said the old nobleman critically 
 surveying the six-foot stripling, who stood 
 straight as an Indian before him. "Do all 
 you colonials run up like bean poles ?" 
 
 Lawrence laughed. 
 
 "Your lordship, I think you may well keep 
 an eye on this youngster. He can show you 
 how to find more foxes than you ever dreamed 
 were in Virginia." 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 23 
 
 The nobleman snorted. 
 
 "I've hunted foxes in two continents, but if 
 the young blood wants to come along we'll see 
 what's in him." 
 
 Lord Fairfax was a devoted fox hunter, 
 but he had already found that following them 
 in the American wilderness was no pink tea 
 affair; and he was soon to learn that George 
 could ride with the best of them, and that he 
 did know where to find the brushes. So it 
 was not long before George became an indis- 
 pensable fixture at all the hunting parties. 
 
 As the friendship between the old Enghsh- 
 man and the young Virginian deepened, we 
 can imagine another conversation between 
 them on their ride home with the hounds. 
 
 "What do you intend to make out of your- 
 self, George?" 
 
 "I don't quite know, sir. I desired to en- 
 list in the navy, but my mother was unwilling. 
 So if there's no active service at home, I may 
 just settle down as a planter." 
 
 "Humph! What are you studying now?'* 
 
 "I have studied surveying under Mr. Wil- 
 liams. You see, sir, there are a lot of lands 
 near-by which require bounding." 
 
24 FAMOUS AJMERICANS 
 
 *'Hiimph! Tried your hand at any of it 
 yet?" 
 
 *'Yes, some in an experimental way. And 
 Lawrence says I have mapped out some of his 
 bounds very correctly." ^ 
 
 "The very thing! I believe I could use you 
 myself. When you are ready let me know 
 and I'll send you over the hill yonder to mark 
 out where Fairfax starts and where he ends. 
 My cousin, George Fairfax, will go with you." 
 
 George Fairfax was a young man slightly 
 older than Washington, but of congenial 
 tastes. When he heard of the plan, he was 
 eager to taste the adventure of it, and they 
 set to work at once to arrange details. 
 
 In the spring of 1748, accordingly, when 
 George Washington was just turned sixteen, 
 behold him embarking on his first "job." He 
 was a full-fledged surveyor, setting out with 
 transit and level to conquer one of the toughest 
 assignments that any surveyor, even of mature 
 years, ever tackled. 
 
 But Washington at sixteen was by no means 
 green or immature. The outdoor life which 
 
 1 There is in fact an early survey of Mount Vernon, made 
 by George Washington as a boy. 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 25 
 
 had been his from early j^outh had hardened 
 him wonderfully. He is described as a well- 
 set-up young fellow, already six feet tall, and 
 well-shaped although a little long as to leg and 
 arm, and a little narrow as to chest. His face 
 was handsome but for a rather prominent 
 beak of a nose, which he was later to "grow 
 up to." He was somewhat reserved and bash- 
 ful, but with a frank, open face, set off by a 
 straight, firm mouth, grayish blue eyes, and 
 light brown hair. Although quiet, retiring, 
 and not much of a talker, there was something 
 about him that inspired confidence. This was 
 strikingly shown in the willingness of Lord 
 Fairfax to entrust a mere lad with so impor- 
 tant a task as surveying his estate. 
 
 The two Georges set about their task in high 
 spirits. The Virginian mountains were just 
 budding out in the first freshness of spring 
 when they started out by way of Ashby's Gap 
 in the Blue Ridge, entering the Shenandoah 
 Valley. For five weeks during March and 
 April, 1848, they worked in what is now Fred- 
 erick County, struggling to run their chain 
 through virgin forests, over swollen streams, 
 down precipitous slopes, and across swampy 
 
26 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 valleys. To the natural obstacles were added 
 the uncertainties of weather, prowllntr wild 
 beasts, and wandering Indians. The latter 
 were as a rule friendly, but suspicious, and 
 had they but dreamed that this innocent-look- 
 ing transit and chain were staking off the field 
 and forest against their future use as hunting 
 grounds, the red men would have made short 
 shrift of these youngsters. 
 
 We are given an insight into the perils and 
 adventures of the trip, through a note-book 
 which Washington kept. He did not dwell 
 upon the danger, but "had such a good time" 
 that he was ready to try it again. As for his 
 work, Fairfax was so pleased with it, that he 
 induced the Governor of the colony to appoint 
 him a public surveyor. It was the beginning 
 of three years of hard pioneering, but it gave 
 the young man the finest possible training for 
 his later career. He learned to depend abso- 
 lutely upon himself; to endure hardship with- 
 out complaint; and to stick everlastingly to 
 a thing until it was done. Best of all it inured 
 iiim to liardship, and rounded him out into 
 vigorous manhood. 
 
 A glimpse of what he endured is given in 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 27 
 
 a letter to a friend: "Since you received my 
 letter of October last, 1 have not slept above 
 three or four niglits in a bed, but after walking 
 a good deal all tlie day, 1 have lain down be- 
 fore the fire upon a little hay, straw, fodder, 
 or a bearskin, whichever was to be had, with 
 man, wife, and children, like dogs and cats; 
 and happy is he who gets the berth nearest 
 the fire. Nothing would make it pass off 
 tolerably but a good reward. A doubloon is 
 my constant gain every day that the weather 
 will permit of my going out, and sometimes 
 six pistoles." 
 
 As to the value of these early surveys made 
 by Washington, it is said that his maps and 
 measurements were so reliable that they have 
 been accepted ever since. In fact they are 
 about the only correct ones that date back to 
 that period. A pretty good record for a boy 
 surveyor ! 
 
Ill 
 
 THE BUDDING SOLDIER 
 
 At nineteen the ytnini;' surveyor was fully 
 grown — a tall, powerful i'ellow standing six 
 feet, three and a half inehes in his moccasins, 
 bronzed and hardy. 
 
 Then came opportunity number three, and 
 he was ready for it. 
 
 A society called the Ohio Company was 
 formed for the i)urpose of settling the lands 
 immediately to the west of Virginia. Trade 
 routes were to be planned and opened; and 
 new families were to be induced to make their 
 homes there. Both of Washington's brothers 
 were interested in the project, as also were 
 other well-to-do proprietors of Virginia and 
 the mother coufitry. What they needed was 
 a man to take charge of their field work — one 
 who knew the back country and its people, 
 and whose physique was equal to the task. 
 
 28 
 
GE01l(?E WASHINGTON 29 
 
 Who but George Washington could fill this 
 requirement? 
 
 Tlic task was fascinating, but it called for 
 military training as well. For the T^rench 
 were disputing the claim to this western 
 countiy, and were already building forts along 
 the Ohio River. 
 
 Despite Washington's youth and inexpe- 
 rience in mihtary matters, he was appointed 
 adjutant general of this district. He at once 
 sought out some military officers whom he 
 knew, one of whom was Major Muse, and 
 learned the manual of arms. The broader 
 school of tactics he was to acquire later under 
 old General Hard Knocks. 
 
 In reviewing the life of Washington one 
 cannot help but marvel at the way that Fate 
 — or an All-wise Providence — led him step by 
 step to his larger destiny. The boy surveyor 
 plunging into the trackless wilderness was not 
 turning his back upon opportunity, but was 
 even then taking the first steps in the direction 
 of leadership of the American Army! 
 
 But now came a new experience, and one 
 totally foreign to anything that had gone be- 
 fore, or was to come afterward. George took 
 
30 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 his longed-for sea trip. His brother Law- 
 rence wanted to go to the West Indies for his 
 health, and needed a companion. So George 
 laid aside his military aspirations for the time, 
 in order to take care of the invalid. But after 
 a winter in the Barbadoes, Lawrence grew 
 steadily worse and was brought home to die. 
 George himself was seized with the small-pox, 
 and had a hard tussle with it, bearing the marks 
 of the dread epidemic the rest of his life. 
 
 The loss of his brother was a hard blow, for 
 Lawrence had been like a father to him. 
 George though only twenty was made one of 
 the executors to the estate, JMount Vernon, 
 which was thenceforth to be his home. 
 
 INIeanwhile the French were making so much 
 trouble in the western frontier, by their fort- 
 building and inciting the Indians to hostilities, 
 that something had to be done to stop them. 
 
 "We must send some one into the Ohio 
 Country to see and talk with these French- 
 men," concluded Governor Dinwiddie. "We 
 must find out what thej' mean by coming into 
 our king's dominion, building forts on English 
 land, interfering with our settlers, and stirring 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 31 
 
 up the friendly Indians. Wliorn shall wc 
 send?" 
 
 One of the Governor's advisers was I^ord 
 Fairfax, and we ean see this erusty old man 
 shake his head and say: 
 
 "Humph! There's only one man who is 
 fit for the task. Send George Washington!" 
 
 So George Washington was sent. 
 
 He was made a Major and also given the 
 high-sounding title of Comnnssioner. He 
 conimanded a party of six men, and it was 
 their duty to go more tlian one thousand 
 miles by horsehaek through a wild or sparsely 
 settled eountry, to deal with an enemy and 
 his treaeherous allies, the lurking Indians. 
 
 They set out from Williamsburg, the cap- 
 ital of the colony of Virginia, on Oct(jber 30, 
 1753, just before the api)roaeh of winter. On 
 his way he stopped to say good-by to his 
 mother, who was still living in the old house 
 on the Rappahannock. Her fears for his 
 safety led her to try tf) dissuade him from the 
 journey, but this time it was not the callow 
 youth intent on going to sea with whom she 
 dealt. 
 
32 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 "Mudam," lie said, "1 would be unlriic to 
 my proressioii as a soldier, if 1 betrayed tbis 
 trust/' 
 
 Aud lookiui*' up at ber big son wbo towered 
 above ber, sbc realized wilb a sigli tliat be was 
 a man indeed. 
 
 One of bis little ])arly was an old Duteb 
 soldier, named A'an Braam, wbo bad taui^bt 
 bim to I'enee, and wbo eould speak Freneb — 
 lor A\'asbin<;"ton eould not s])eak tbis lann'uaiL>"e. 
 jiVnotber was a «;uide named Cbristopber CJist; 
 and tbc otbers were frontiersmen wbo knew 
 tbe eounlry and tbe Indians. 
 
 Wasbington's I'aitbful diary bas i;iven us 
 many details of tbis adventurous journey — 
 bow tbey worked tbeir way aeross mountains, 
 forded streams, met Indian tribes, some of 
 wbom tbey won baek to tbe FiUglisli side. 
 
 On tbe twelftb of Deeember tbey rcaebetl 
 tbeir destination. Fort le l>oeuf, near wbere 
 tbe eity of Fittsburgb now stands, and de- 
 livered tbeir letters to tbe Freneb Commander, 
 St. Fierre. lie >vas eourteous but evasive, and 
 entertained tbe travelers a few days. Tben 
 he gave Wasbington a written reply to 
 
GKOiior: vvASJiiNcriON ;j;j 
 
 Governor Diriwi(J(iic, arid l\\r. purly sturtcd 
 back eastward . 
 
 It was Chrislrn.'is day wlicn WashiM^tf)n 
 and bis lillle party started back borne a(;r(),ss 
 tbe wilderness. If tbc first part of tbe jour- 
 ney was arduous, tbe return in tb(- dead of win- 
 ter [)roinised to bo doubly so. Snow b;i(l 
 begun to falJ, and soon tbe weary Jjorses were 
 stumbb'ng nloDfj; bel[)lcss]y. 
 
 Wasbington was impatient to (k;Jiver bis 
 report to the Governor, so decicied to leave Fjis 
 nicn and horses, take ordy one companion anrl 
 push on abeacJ on foot. lie and (iist aeeonJ- 
 ingly took ordy b'glit packs and set out by a 
 sbr)rt cut tbrougb the woods. It was a fiaz- 
 ar*(b)us thing to do, as tbe Irifiians all .'irourid 
 that region were allies of tbe J^Vencb and there- 
 fore treacherous. 
 
 They soon had the chance to prove this. 
 They hired an Indian giride to show them the 
 nearest way through the forest, lie pretended 
 to do so, but marched them stearlily on in tfie 
 hope of tiring them out. Washington finally 
 decided to make camp for the night, but the 
 Indian demurred, saying it was not safe. 
 
34 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 "If you are tired," said the crafty redskin, 
 "I will carry gun." 
 
 "No," said Washington; "we will go on." 
 
 They had marched only a mile or two fur- 
 ther, when suddenly, without warning, the 
 guide wheeled, leveled his own gun directly 
 at Washington, and fired. His aim was too 
 liasty, however, and the hullet fortunately 
 missed hoth the other men. They sprang for- 
 ward and seized him, and Gist was for putting 
 him to death, hut Wasliington spared him. 
 
 The next day they got rid of the guide, 
 traveling by compass. When they reached 
 the Ohio River a new danger threatened them. 
 The stream was filled with tossing cakes of ice. 
 
 "There was no way of getting over," Wash- 
 ington says in his diary, "but on a raft, which 
 we set about, with but one poor hatcliet, and 
 finished just after sun-setting. This -was a 
 whole day's work; \\'c next got it launched, 
 then went on board of it, and set off; but be- 
 fore we were halfway over, we were jammed 
 in the ice in such a manner that we expected 
 every moment our raft to sink and ourselves 
 to perish. I put out my setting-pole to try 
 to stop the raft, that the ice miorht pass by, 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 35 
 
 when the rapidity of the stream threw it with 
 so much violence against the pole, that it 
 jerked me out into ten feet of water; but I 
 fortunately saved myself by catching hold of 
 one of the raft logs. Notwithstanding all our 
 efforts, we could not get to either shore, but 
 were obliged, as we were near an island, to 
 quit our raft and make to it. The cold was so 
 extremely severe that INIr. Gist had all his 
 fingers and some of his toes frozen, and the 
 water was shut up so hard that we found no 
 difficulty in getting off the island on the ice 
 in the morning, and went to Mr. Frazier's." 
 
 Here they paused only long enough to thaw 
 out poor Gist, then they procured fresh horses 
 and went on. Washington reached Williams- 
 burg on January 16, and delivered his letter 
 to the Governor. 
 
 The Virginia House of Burgesses was in 
 session, and the young Commissioner's report, 
 even more than the Frenchman's letter, showed 
 the weakness of the western frontier. Some- 
 thing must be done besides talk. One of 
 Washington's recommendations was that a 
 fort be built at the fork of the Ohio River. 
 Accordingly a small force was sent under a 
 
86 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 Cajitain Trent, that spring, to build it. But 
 before it was completed, the French surprised 
 the building force and seized the work. N^'ear 
 by they built a still larger fort of their own, 
 which they called Fort Duquesne,* and which 
 is the site of Pittsburgh. 
 
 It could mean only one thing — War. It 
 proved, in fact, the beginning of a seven-year 
 struggle between the English and colonists on 
 the one side, and the French and Indians on 
 the other. 
 
 The budding soldier, Washington, was 
 again meeting a destiny that was ready and 
 waiting for him. 
 
 1 Pronounced DuKane. 
 
IV 
 
 IN THE mENCII AND INDIAN WAR 
 
 As soon as news reached the colonists of the 
 building of Fort Duquesne, they began prep- 
 arations to send a force against the French. 
 Joshua Fry was made colonel, and George 
 Washington lieutenant colonel, with direct 
 command of the first expedition. All that 
 winter he drilled his little volunteer army, and 
 in April, 1754, set out on the march westward 
 with 150 men, traveling the same route he 
 had taken the year before. 
 
 While still some distance from their objec- 
 tive, the scouts whom Washington had sent 
 on ahead reported a French force in ambush 
 waiting to surprise them. The young Vir- 
 ginia commander at once decided that two 
 could play at surprise parties. Taking a force 
 of forty men, he set out at dead of night and 
 
 37 
 
38 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 in a pelting rain, on a roundabout march to 
 come upon tlie enemy's rear. 
 
 "The path," he writes, "was hardly wide 
 enough for one man. We often lost it, and 
 could not find it again for fifteen or twenty 
 minutes, and we often tumbled over each other 
 in the dark." 
 
 They pressed on nevertheless, and at day- 
 break crept up behind the ambushed enemy. 
 
 "Fire!" commanded Washington, as the be- 
 wildered Frenchmen sprang to their feet. 
 
 It was the opening shot of the Seven Years' 
 War that answered him. The French com- 
 mander, Jumonville, was killed, with nine 
 others, and the rest easily taken prisoner; while 
 the surprise party lost only one man. This 
 little skirmish, called the battle of Great 
 Meadows, made a stir on both sides of the 
 Atlantic, since it marked the opening of actual 
 hostilities, and the young commander began 
 to come to public attention. 
 
 The fight was important in another sense. 
 It was Washington's baptism of fire, and it 
 taught him as it were overniglU that he was 
 cut out for a soldier. In a letter to folks at 
 home, he confessed: "I heard the bullets 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 39 
 
 whistle; and, believe me, there is something 
 charming in the sound." 
 
 Knowing that this little victory would set 
 the French and their Indian allies swarming 
 about him like hornets, Washington decided 
 wisely to press forward no further until he 
 could get reinforcements. He built a rude 
 fort of logs and dirt, which he called Fort 
 Necessity, and asked for more troops. His 
 total muster, however, was less than three 
 hundred, even after additional companies were 
 finally sent him. 
 
 INIeanwhile, the French and Indians came 
 down nearly a thousand strong. They would 
 not risk an open fight, though Washington 
 dared them to do so. Instead, they lay in 
 ambush, waiting to starve the English out. 
 
 There could be only one outcome to this — 
 surrender. The French offered liberal terms. 
 The English were permitted to return home, 
 with their side arms and under pledge to build 
 no more forts in that country for at least a 
 year. 
 
 So Washington marched his men home 
 again, feeling the sting of defeat. He ten- 
 dered his resignation, and asked to be relieved 
 
40 FA:M0US AMErxICAXS 
 
 of command. The House of Burgesses, how- 
 ever, pubhcly thanked him and his staff "for 
 their bravery and gallant defense of their 
 country" : and the Governor urged him to head 
 another expedition against the enemy. But 
 Washingion declined. 
 
 ''We nnist not try to fight the French until 
 we are ready," he said. "When enough men 
 have been raised to make such an expedition 
 wise, you can depend upon me to do my share; 
 but there is no sense in marching to certain 
 defeat." 
 
 The colonists thereupon decided to await 
 promised reinforcements from England before 
 beginning another campaign. Within the 
 twelvemonth they came — two crack regiments 
 of redcoats under the command of ^lajor 
 General Braddock. The whole countryside 
 turned out to see them in re\'iew, wheeling and 
 marching, their bright equipment glittering in 
 the sun. 
 
 They made a brave display indeed, but 
 seasoned Indian fighters, among whom was 
 Washington, silently shook their heads at this 
 pomp and parade. The redcoats would make 
 too plain a target for the skulking enemy. 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 41 
 
 But Braddock laughed all these doubts to 
 scorn, when they reached his ears. 
 
 "We'll give them a taste of real powder, my 
 lads," he promised. 
 
 And the General was no braggart, but a 
 fine old seasoned soldier, who had led his men 
 abroad through many a tight place. The only 
 trouble here — and it proved a fatal blunder — 
 was his ignorance of the present enemy's 
 methods. 
 
 Braddock made one wise move, however. 
 He had heard of Washington as the leader of 
 the earlier expedition; and he now invited the 
 young Virginian to join his staff, as an aide- 
 de-camp. Washington had gone to Mount 
 Vernon to look after the estate, but willingly 
 dropped his personal affairs to accept the post. 
 He saw that Braddock with all his mistaken 
 notions meant business. If he could only learn 
 the American wilderness ways ! 
 
 But Braddock would not learn. He 
 marched his men constantly in the open, to the 
 tune of fife and drum, and with colors flying. 
 He stopped to construct roads and bridges for 
 his cannon. And he could scarcely be per- 
 suaded to send scouts ahead. Washington 
 
42 FAMOUS AMKUICANS 
 
 jidviscd liini to soiid n lio^lil scDiiliiig forcft 
 conslnnlly in advance, but to no purpose. 
 
 "This ])ros])cet was soon eloudi'd," lie re- 
 ports, "and my hopes brought \cvy low indeed, 
 when 1 found that, inslead o\' pushiuL;; on with 
 vij^or, willunil rei»ardinn,' a little r()ut»h road, 
 they were haUint;" to level every molehill, and 
 to ereet hridfj^es over every hrook, hy whieh 
 means we were I'our days in gelling twelve 
 mues. 
 
 Washington himself had worked a!id wor- 
 ried so mui'h at the outset, that he fell siek of 
 a fever. He recovered sullieiently in a few 
 days to rejoin the troops, thanks to their slow 
 progress, lie eaught up with the vanguard 
 at a ford of the Monongahela Kiver, about 
 fifteen miles from I'ort Ducpiesne. 
 
 As the well-diilled troops marehed in elose 
 formation down the winding road to the river, 
 Washington was struck with admiration at the 
 sight. Eut at the same time, he was filled 
 with (tismay. Spm'ring his horse he caught 
 up with his superior ollicer and saluted the old 
 Ceneral, 
 
 "Sir," he said, "if you will permit me, you 
 are exposing your troops to hidden danger. 
 
GE()R(;K WASHINGTON 49 
 
 We arc now close on the enemy's country, and 
 at any moment they may attack." 
 
 "]<'ri()ij/4lil" retorted the (jleneral impa- 
 tiently, ' .shall I who have heen in many cam- 
 paigns go to school to you raw colonials who 
 have never even seen a real hattle?" 
 
 The young olTieer colored, f>ut stood his 
 ground. 
 
 "Will you not, at any rate, sir, [)ennit me 
 to go uhearl with sonn; of my Virginians, and 
 report the whereahouLs of the enemy?" 
 
 '"J'hey will he advised of our api)roach soon 
 enough," returned IJraddock hrusquely. 
 
 Suddenly, as the advance guard reached a 
 narrow, enclosed portion of tli(; road, a shot 
 rang out, then anotlier, and another. 
 
 The French and Indians were in amhush, 
 and were shooting into the dense ranks. The 
 Hritish regulars ware thrown into confusion. 
 They looked wildly ahout for their enemy, hut 
 none was in sight. Meanwhile every tree 
 trunk and hush seemed to spout torjgues of 
 flame, or whizzing arrows. The hravest troops 
 in the world could not have held steady under 
 such an attack. 
 
 Washington at once galloped forward, with- 
 
44 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 out waiting for Braddock's orders, and en- 
 deavored to hold the line. He told them to 
 fall flat upon the ground, and fight from be- 
 hind the bush, as their enemies were doing. A 
 few did so, but most of them scattered like 
 sheep. A company of Washington's Virgin- 
 ians, who had previously been sneered at as 
 "raw militia," started a counter attack to cover 
 the retreat. 
 
 Poor mistaken Braddock called them cow- 
 ards when he saw them fighting from behind 
 shelters. 
 
 "Stand up and fight like men!" he shouted; 
 and with his officers he dashed bravely here 
 and yonder to reform his lines. He was to 
 pay for his foolish bravery with his life; for 
 presently he received a mortal wound. 
 
 As for Washington, he showed a like dis- 
 regard for his personal safety, but he seemed 
 to bear a charmed life. He got four bullets 
 through his coat and had two horses shot from 
 under him. Jumping from his horse, at one 
 time, he seized one of the small cannon with 
 his own hands and turned it upon the enemy. 
 One old campaigner later described the inci- 
 dent in picturesque style. 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 45 
 
 "I saw Colonel Washington sining from his 
 panting horse, and seize a brass fieldpiece as 
 if it had been a stick. His look was terrible. 
 He put his right hand on the niuz/le, his left 
 hand on the breacli; he i)iillcd witli this, he 
 puslied with that, and wheeled it round, as if 
 it had been a plaything. It furrowed the 
 ground like a plowshare. He tore the sheet- 
 lead from the touch-hole; then the powder- 
 monkey rushed up with the fire, when the 
 cannon went off, making the bark fly from the 
 trees, and many an Indian send up his last veil 
 and bite the dust." 
 
 Every moment, however, added to the dis- 
 order, and when Braddock fell the troops 
 broke and ran. Washington and his Virgin- 
 ians fought till the last, protecting their re- 
 treat, and saving them from being entirely 
 wiped out. He cared for Braddock there in 
 the forest until the General's death a few hours 
 later, and read a simple burial service for him. 
 With his last breath Braddock murmured; 
 "What a pity ! We should know how to handle 
 them the next time!" 
 
 Washington led the beaten army back to 
 Virginia, and was the only man in all that time 
 
46 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 of disaster who got any glory out of it. But 
 personal glory was far from his thoughts. 
 Again his soul was filled with bitterness, that 
 he had to march home beaten. 
 
 One good thing, however, came of the de- 
 feat. It taught all concerned the real problem 
 facing them, and when Washington next ad- 
 vised, they listened to him. Furthermore, 
 Governor Dinwiddie appointed him Com- 
 mander-in-Chief of all the Virginia forces. 
 
 Washington did not seek the command. 
 He did not want it. But he was never one to 
 shirk a plain duty. As he wrote to his mother : 
 "If it is in my power to avoid going to the 
 Ohio again, I shall. But if the command is 
 pressed upon me by the voice of the countrj^, 
 it would be dishonorable in me to refuse it." 
 
 For three more years he led his men against 
 the Frenc'h and Indians. The English had 
 also learned wisdom, and fought the enemy in 
 his own fashion. They further sent troops to 
 Canada to engage the French there, and the 
 latter at last found it so hot that they quietly 
 marched out of the disputed Ohio Country. 
 
THE VIRGINIA PLANTEE 
 
 *'I dunno what de mattah with Massa 
 George to-day," grumbled an old darkey. 
 "He usually miglity prompt, but heah I is with 
 his bosses ready to start, an' he ain't ready yit." 
 
 The scene was the Chamberlayne home near 
 Williamsburg, and, the cause of the unusual 
 delay a charming young widow who held 
 the Indian fighter a willing prisoner. It had 
 been a case of love at first sight, at least with 
 him; and when he finally rode on his way 
 twenty-four hours later, he and Martha Custis 
 had plighted their troth. 
 
 A whirlwind courtship it was indeed, but 
 again Washington's lucky star was with him, 
 for their later married life was extremely 
 happy. Martha was his complement in many 
 ways. She was short and plump, he tall and 
 rugged. She had dark eyes and a laughing 
 
 47 
 
48 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 countenance. His were blue, and he was nat- 
 urally inclined to be grave. She was viva- 
 cious and talkative; he serious and taciturn. 
 She exerted a profound influence over his life, 
 and made an ideal hostess at Mount Vernon 
 and later still as the very first "First Lady of 
 the Land." 
 
 Soon after the conclusion of the war they 
 were married, January 6, 1759 — and a typical 
 Virginia wedding of the olden time it was. 
 The bride was wealthy in her own right, and 
 her retinue befitted a queen. She rode to her 
 home at White House (notice the name!) in 
 state, in an open coach drawn by six horses; 
 she herself clad in white satin, with pearls to 
 match; while by himself rode the groom re- 
 splendent in his army uniform of blue cloth 
 lined with red silk, with silver trimmings. 
 
 For three months Washington remained at 
 the home of his bride, looking after her affairs 
 preparatory to their removal to IMount Ver- 
 non. He became also the legal guardian of 
 her two children, "Jack" and "Patty," six and 
 four years of age, and came to love them as his 
 own. When they were finally settled at 
 Mount Vernon, Washington looked at bis 
 
MARTHA WASHI^(,T<>l^ 
 From a girlhood portrait by John Jf ooluston 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 49 
 
 "readjT'-made family" with much delig^ht. A* 
 he told a friend: "I am now, I believe, fixed in 
 this spot with an agreeable partner for life; 
 and I hope to find more happiness in retire- 
 ment than I ever experienced in the wide and 
 bustling world." 
 
 There is a painting extant showing the Vir- 
 ginia planter at home, and it is a pleasing 
 family group indeed. Washington sits op- 
 posite his comely wife with an air of absolute 
 contentment. The two children are in the 
 foreground; while in the rear is the negro, 
 Billy, Washington's personal servant. 
 
 The only taste of public life at this time was 
 an occasional attendance at the House of Bur- 
 gesses, as the Virginia assembly was called. 
 Washington had been elected a member while 
 still away at the wars. When he came to take 
 his seat, the Speaker of the House read to him 
 a formal address of welcome, thanking him in 
 the name of Virginia for his conduct in the 
 campaign. 
 
 The thing was so unexpected that the young 
 officer colored, stammered, and was at a loss 
 for a reply; whereupon the Speaker said: 
 "Sit down, Mr. Washington. Your modesty 
 
50 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 equals your valor, and that surpasses the 
 power of any language I possess." 
 
 A very pretty compliment, was it not? But 
 we can imagine that its recipient was as red 
 as a beet by this time. 
 
 But the bulk of Washington's time for the 
 next seventeen years was spent at !Mount 
 Vernon. Since his brother's death the estate 
 had grown quite valuable; and with his wife's 
 property added to his own, he was one of the 
 wealthiest men in Virginia. The land itself 
 consisted of 8,000 acres, and crowning the 
 knoll overlooking the Potomac River was the 
 mansion, a typical Virginia homestead of the 
 better class. It was a large, two-story house 
 with four rooms on each floor. A high and 
 broad piazza supported by columns ran the 
 entire front length. At the back were serv- 
 ants' quarters flanked by gardens, meadows, 
 fields, and dense forests beyond. 
 
 It was a spot well calculated to make a man 
 happy, and after the hardship of his early 
 days, Washington turned to it with the joy of 
 a boy let loose from school. He was a prac- 
 tical farmer and superintended his crops with 
 care. He raised fine horses and blooded stock 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 51 
 
 of all sorts. He rose with the dawn and re- 
 tired at nine o'clock. Between whiles he went 
 hunting — perhaps he persuaded his old neigh- 
 hor, Lord I'airfax, to iiceompany hirn on his 
 shorter trips. Frequently the younger George 
 Fairfax, friend of his surveying days, rode 
 with him. Among his splendid mounts we 
 read of Magnolia, the Arahian mare, and 
 Biueskin his favorite iron-gray steed, as well 
 as Chinkling, Ajax, and Valiant. We seem 
 to hear again the haying of his hounds, Vulcan, 
 Ringwood, Music, Sweetlips, and Singer. 
 Those were indeed the days of real sport ! 
 
 "No estate in UnitedAmerica," he observes 
 in one of his letters, "is more pleasantly situ- 
 ated. In a high and healthy country; in a 
 latitude hetween the extremes of heat and 
 cold ; on one of the finest rivers in the world ; 
 a river well stocked with various kinds of fish 
 at all seasons of the year; and in the spring 
 with shad, herring, bass, carp, sturgeon, etc., 
 in great ahundance." 
 
 Meanwhile the doors of Mount Vernon were 
 always thrown open to the passer-by whether 
 friend or stranger. Both George and Martha 
 Washington liked to entertain. They had a 
 
52 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 host of friends, and every person of distinction 
 who visited Virginia must needs pay his re- 
 spects. In fact, so rarely were they without 
 guests, that Washington would note the oc- 
 casion in his diary; and he once whimsically 
 confided to it that although he had a hundred 
 cows he had to buy butter! 
 
 He varied his duties as country gentleman, 
 and member of the House of Burgesses, with 
 service as vestryman in the Episcopal Church 
 at Alexandria, and judge of the county court. 
 So he must have led a busy life. 
 
 "A large Virginia estate in those days, was 
 a little empire," writes Irving in his delightful 
 biography of Washington. "The mansion 
 house was the seat of government, with its 
 numerous dependencies, such as kitchens, 
 smoke-house, workshops, and stables. In this 
 mansion the planter ruled supreme; his stew- 
 ard or overseer was his prime minister and ex- 
 ecutive officer; he had his legion of house 
 negroes for domestic service, and his host of 
 field negroes for the culture of tobacco, Indian 
 corn, and other crops, and for other out-of-door 
 labor. Their quarter formed a kind of hamlet 
 apart, composed of various huts, with little 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 53 
 
 gardens and poultry yards, all well stocked, 
 and swarms of little negroes gamboling in the 
 sunshine. Then there were large wooden edi- 
 fices for curing tobacco, the staple and most 
 profitable production, and mills for grinding 
 wheat and Indian corn, of which large fields 
 were cultivated for the supply of the family 
 and the maintenance of the negroes. 
 
 "Among the slaves were artificers of alT 
 kinds, tailors, shoemakers, carpenters, smiths, 
 wheelwrights, and so forth; so that a planta- 
 tion produced everything within itself for or- 
 dinary use; as to articles of fashion and ele- 
 gance, luxuries and expensive clothing, they 
 were imported from London; for the planters 
 on the main rivers, especially the Potomac, 
 carried on an immediate trade with England." 
 
 Many of the Virginia planters led lives of 
 ease. They looked down on all labor as de- 
 grading, and they turned over the active man- 
 agement of their property to overseers. Not 
 so, Washington. He delighted in the work 
 and liked to superintend its details. He kept 
 his own accounts, with the same painstaking 
 accuracy which had marked the "ciphering" of 
 the young surveyor. 
 
54 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 Not content with his pubhc duties and pri- 
 vate affairs, we find him engaged in other en- 
 terprises, as for example the draining of the 
 great Dismal Swamp. This was a morass 
 about thirty miles long by ten miles wide, and 
 had been unexplored. Washington himself 
 went through it by horseback and on foot, 
 made a map of his explorations, and later 
 formed one of a company which drahied and 
 developed it. 
 
 As a farmer, Washington was much in ad- 
 vance of his time. He read up on all the 
 agricultural topics that he could lay his hands 
 upon. He was a pioneer in two great features 
 of modern farming — fertilizing and rotation 
 of crops. When he took charge of his planta- 
 tion, it, like most Virginia plantations, was a 
 one-crop affair — tobacco. But he directed 
 that the land should be rested by growing in 
 turn as many different crops as possible, and 
 that they should buy nothing they could them- 
 selves raise. At one time he writes: "My 
 countrymen are too much used to corn blades i 
 and corn shucks ; and have too little knowledge | 
 of the profit of grass lands"; and again, after I 
 his return home after the Revolution: "No 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 55 
 
 wheat that has ever yet fallen under my obser- 
 vation exceeds the wheat which some years ago 
 I cultivated extensively but which, from inat- 
 tention during my absence of almost nine 
 years from home, has got so mixed or degener- 
 ated as scarcely to retain any of its original 
 characteristics properly." 
 
 As the quiet, busy years rolled by, Washing- 
 ton became more and more the country gentle- 
 man. The glamour of war was forgotten, and 
 when a friend reminded him that he had 
 once said the hum of a bullet "had a pleasant 
 sound," he replied apologetically, "Ah, that 
 was when I was young!" 
 
 But by his constant outdoor life, exercise, 
 and regular habits he kept himself in the pink 
 of condition. At forty it was said of him that 
 he could throw a hammer farther, and run a 
 longer distance than any man of his acquaint- 
 ance. It was said that he could throw a silver 
 dollar across the Potomac from his front door- 
 yard — although some wag has retorted that a 
 dollar went farther in those days than it does 
 to-day ! 
 
VI 
 
 THE OUTBREAK OF THE REVOLUTION 
 
 Every schoolboy and girl is familiar with 
 the facts which led up to the Revolution — how 
 the English government enacted one law after 
 another directed against the Colonies, and 
 without giving them the slightest voice in it. 
 England does things far diiferently nowa- 
 days ! 
 
 The chief bone of contention was the levying 
 of special taxes, such as that upon every 
 pound of tea shipped to America. These 
 levies under the "Stamp Act" were constant 
 causes of irritation, and the quarrel continued 
 for ten or twelve years. The rift constantly 
 grew wider between the mother country and 
 the daughter, and another important thing 
 resulted. The thirteen separate colonies scat- 
 tered along the Atlantic Coast began to come 
 together for self-defense. From being sepa- 
 
 56 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 57 
 
 rate communities with few interests in common, 
 they saw that their only safety lay in union. 
 It was the first start toward nationality. 
 
 In September, 1774, in answer to a general 
 call, each of the thirteen colonies sent picked 
 men to a convention in Philadelphia, which 
 besides being the largest city was cen- 
 trally located. The delegates met in a build- 
 ing known as Carpenters' Hall, and their 
 organization became known as the First Con- 
 tinental Congress. 
 
 Of these stirring times we are all so familiar, 
 that it is not necessary to treat them in further 
 detail, except as they affected the fortunes of 
 a certain Virginia planter. 
 
 Washington was chosen from Virginia, 
 among others, to attend this Congress; and 
 rode thither in company v/ith the fiery Patrick 
 Henry and the courtly Edmund Pendleton. 
 As they left Mount Vernon with its domestic 
 peace, Martha Washington said : 
 
 "I hope you will all stand firm. I know 
 George will. God be with you, gentlemen!" 
 
 This first session of Congress was not in 
 open rebellion. Many who attended were 
 still loyal subjects of the Crown. They only 
 
.58 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 sought a way out of the misunderstanding. 
 They remained in session fifty-one days, and 
 when their petition was finally presented to 
 the House of Lords in London, the great 
 statesman Chatham said: 
 
 "When your lordships look at the papers 
 transmitted to us from America; when you 
 consider their decency, firmness, and wisdom, 
 you cannot but respect their cause, and wish 
 to make it your own." 
 
 Nevertheless, there were hotheads led by 
 the stubborn old king himself v/ho would not 
 accept this olive-branch of peace. 
 
 On his return home, when Patrick Henry 
 was asked who was the greatest man in Con- 
 gress, he answered: "If you speak of elo- 
 quence, ]Mr. Rutledge of South Carolina is by 
 far the greatest orator; but if you speak of 
 solid information and sound judgment, Colo- 
 nel Washington is unquestionably the greatest 
 man on that floor." 
 
 While a peaceable way out was still being 
 sought, news came of the Boston Massacre 
 and the Battle of Lexington, and hard upon 
 the news the whole country seemed to rise in 
 arms as one man. Congress was convened 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 59 
 
 again on May 10, and although they sent a 
 second petition to King George, their chief 
 concern was to equip and provide leaders for 
 the army that was already coming together. 
 Above all they wanted a commander-in-chief 
 — one who was accustomed to handling men, 
 who had executive ability, experience in mili- 
 tary matters, and the bodily strength for this 
 arduous task. 
 
 John Adams of Massachusetts rose up to 
 speak. He was a man whose opinions always 
 commanded respect. 
 
 "Gentlemen," he said to the Congress, "as 
 I look over this body, I have but one gentle- 
 man in my mind. He is a certain gentleman 
 from Virginia who is among us and is well 
 known to us all. His skill and experience as 
 an officer, his independent fortune, great 
 talents, and excellent universal character 
 would command the approbation of all the 
 colonies, and unite the cordial exertions of all 
 the colonies better than any other person in 
 the union." 
 
 Every one knew wfhom John Adams meant, 
 and all eyes were turned in a certain direction 
 where a tall, athletic figure dressed in a colo- 
 
60 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 nel's uniform of buff and blue, was quietly- 
 slipping out of the room. Washington never 
 outgi-ew his shyness of public praise. 
 
 As a result of Adams's speech, Washington 
 was unanimously elected commander-in-chief 
 of the Continental Army. After the vote was 
 announced, Washington thanked Congress for 
 this honor and the confidence it implied, 
 adding: 
 
 "I beg it may be remembered by every gen- 
 tleman in the room, that I this day declare, 
 with the utmost sincerity, I do not think my- j 
 self equal to the command I am honored with. 
 As to pay, I beg leave to assure the Congress 
 that, as no pecuniary consideration could have 
 tempted me to accept this arduous employ- 
 ment, at the expense of my domestic ease and 
 happiness, I do not wish to make any profit 
 of it. I will keep an exact account of my ex- 
 penses — that is all I desire." 
 
 And he wrote to his wife: "I should enjoy 
 more real happiness in one month with you 
 at home than I have the most distant pros- 
 pect of finding abroad, if my stay were to be 
 seven times seven years." And again: "It 
 is a trust too great for my capacity, but it 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 61 
 
 has been a kind of destiny" (at last he recog- 
 nized it!) "that has thrown me upon it, and it 
 was utterly out of my power to refuse it." 
 
 Losing no time, Washington mounted his 
 horse and turned northward toward Boston, 
 then the center of disturbance. He found 
 on his way that, far from being the unknown 
 Virginia planter, his name and his fame had 
 preceded him. They told of his earlier 
 prowess against the French and Indians, and 
 they turned out in crowds to hail him and 
 wish him God-speed. He was no longer an 
 individual; he was the personification of their 
 liberties. 
 
 As he rode with his armed escort, he was 
 met by tidings of the battle fought on Breeds 
 Hill (or "Bunker Hill," as the fight was later 
 called from a neighboring eminence). The 
 hard-riding courier reported that the Amer- 
 ican force had finally been dispersed. It 
 looked like a bad defeat. 
 
 "Why did they retreat?" asked General 
 Washington (as he must now be called). 
 
 "Their ammunition gave out," answered the 
 courier, truthfully. 
 
 "And did they stand the fire of the British 
 
62 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 regulars as long as they had aiimiunition?" 
 pressed the commander. 
 
 "That they did!" replied the com-ier. 
 "They held their own fire in reserve until the 
 enemy were within eight rods." 
 
 A look of relief came across Washington's 
 face, as he turned to Generals Lee and Schuy- 
 ler who were by his side. 
 
 "Then the liberties of the country are safe, 
 gentlemen!" he exclaimed. > 
 
 It was a prophecy which finally proved 
 true. 
 
 On he and his party rode — through New 
 York, along the old Post Road, and finally 
 reached Cambridge on the outskirts of Boston, 
 where the Continental troops were assembled 
 — still defying their enemy entrenched across 
 the Charles River, in Boston. 
 
 Under the branching limbs of a stately elm, 
 which still stands not far from the present 
 campus of Harvard University, Washington 
 unsheathed his sword and formallj^ took com- 
 mand of the Continental Army. The date 
 was July 3, 1775. 
 
 Washington was then forty-three years old. 
 An actual description of him at the time, from 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 63 
 
 the diary of Dr. James Thatcher, a surgeon 
 in the army, is of interest: "The personal ap- 
 pearance of our commander-in-chief is that of 
 a perfect gentleman and accomplished warrior. 
 He is remarkably tall — full six feet — erect 
 and well-proportioned. The strength and 
 proportion of his joints and muscles appear to 
 be commensurate with the preeminent powers 
 of his mind. The serenity of his countenance, 
 and majestic gracefulness of his deportment 
 impart a strong impression of that dignity and 
 grandeur which are peculiar characteristics; 
 and no one can stand in his presence without 
 feeling the ascendency of his mind, and associ- 
 ating with his countenance the idea of wisdom, 
 philanthropy, magnaniniity, and patriotism. 
 There is a fine symmetry in the features of his 
 face indicative of a benign and dignified spirit. 
 His nose is straight, and his eyes inclined to 
 blue. He wears his hair in a becoming cue, 
 and from his forehead it is turned back, and 
 powdered in a manner w^hich adds to the mili- 
 tary air of his appearance. He displays a 
 native gravity, but devoid of all appearance of 
 ostentation. His uniform dress is a blue coat 
 with two brilhant epaulets, buff-colored under- 
 
64 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 clothes, and a three-cornered hat with a black 
 cockade. lie is constantly equipped with an 
 elegant smallsword, boots and spurs, in readi- 
 ness to mount his noble cliarger." 
 
 In this personal description, perhaps ful- 
 some in its praise, we can still see something 
 of the boundless respect and confidence which 
 the new commander inspired among his men, 
 and which was to continue through all the 
 weary months of the Revolution. 
 
VII 
 
 THE FIRST MONTHS OF THE KEVOLUTION 
 
 When Washington waved his sword in the 
 air, as he sat his horse, under the spreading 
 elm at Cambridge, and took eommand of the 
 American troops, none knew better than he 
 that the whole ceremony was only an empty 
 show. In order to become a real commander- 
 in-chief he must first have an army worthy 
 of the name. The men who faced him were 
 patriotic enough but they were an undisci- 
 plined mob — men 'hastily gathered together 
 from all walks of life. Uniforms there were 
 none, and weapons were of all makes and pat- 
 terns. Many had no guns at all, and powder 
 was lacking. The terms of enlistment were 
 so short that men were constantly dropping 
 out and going home, to be replaced by others 
 no less green. 
 
 Washington saw that his first duty was to 
 65 
 
66 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 drill and discipline the troops. They were an 
 easy-going lot, not accustomed to obeying 
 orders. So from that midsummer day on 
 through the fall and winter, he drilled his men 
 into some semblance of order, obtained sup- 
 plies, and, in a word, manufactured an army. 
 In appearance it still aroused the derision of 
 the well-dressed, smart-stepping redcoats, but 
 still it was an army on its way to becoming 
 a formidable fighting machine, as the British 
 were soon to find out. 
 
 From the outset this army performed 
 one valiant service. It kept the British shut 
 up tight in Boston. Three crack generals 
 had been sent over from England — Howe, 
 Clinton, and Burgoyne, with a considerable 
 body of men — and they must have chafed at 
 the inaction. They spoke of the patriots only 
 as a bunch of farmers and store-keepers. They 
 would not recognize Washington as a general. 
 But despite this, they were compelled to stick 
 to the city. Meanwhile they fortified Bunker 
 Hill and other points of approach. 
 
 Washington, on his part, was only waiting 
 for the right moment to engage the enemy. 
 As his army was drilled into shape, he felt 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 67 
 
 more and m(3re confident of it. In studying 
 the map of operations he noted also that the 
 British had left one weak link in their defenses 
 — Dorchester Heights, overlooking the city 
 from an opposite direction. Deploying a 
 force around there in the night, the men 
 worked so fast that when the sun rose a new 
 fort was taking shape and its guns were al- 
 ready trained u])on Boston. 
 
 General Howe was astounded. "I know 
 not what to do," he said. "The rebels have 
 done more work in one night than my whole 
 army would have done in one month." 
 
 He saw that the work must be stopped at 
 once, and, the following night, sent a force 
 of 2,500 men by water to surprise and seize 
 the new fort. But they were hindered from 
 landing by a violent storm, and the next day 
 the rain continued to fall so heavily that an 
 attack was impossible. The Americans, how- 
 ever, still worked feverishly despite the el- 
 ements, and by the third day had made the 
 fort so strong that the British were afraid to 
 attack it. With such a fort constantly menac- 
 ing the garrison and the ships in harbor, noth- 
 ing remained but for the proud British to 
 
68 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 evacuate the city. Out they marched, on 
 March 17, 1776, headed for New York. 
 
 The Continental Army did not offer them 
 battle, but at once marched into the city, and 
 planted their own Hag on its forts. It was 
 a bitter blow to the British, for in this city 
 they had planned to crush the rebellion in short 
 order. In the House of Lords, the Duke of 
 Manchester said: "British generals, whose 
 name never met with a blot of dishonor, are 
 forced to quit that town, which was the first 
 object of the war, the immediate cause of hos- 
 tihties, the place of arms, which had cost this 
 nation more than a million to defend." 
 
 A thrill ran througli all the colonics at this 
 first signal success of the Continental Army. 
 It proved again that England was not in- 
 vincible, and that man for man the patriots 
 could hold their own. Congress gave a vote 
 of thanks to Washington, and struck off a 
 medal in his honor, bearing a profile likeness 
 of him on one side, and the scene and date of 
 the capture of Boston, on the other. 
 
 Plard on the heels of the retreating Brit- 
 ishers, his army followed to New York. But 
 with each day the difficulties of his task in- 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 69 
 
 creased. The first victory had caused a let- 
 down in the morale of his men. They were 
 inclined to take it too much as a lark. By 
 constant recruiting and drilling he managed 
 to get a force together of about ten thousand 
 men. Against these the British soon had a 
 force of three times that number. They had 
 swelled their own ranks by hiring some Ger- 
 man soldiers, known as Hessians, who were 
 sent over that summer. Many Englishmen 
 were indignant at employing these hirelings 
 to shoot down their own relatives in America; 
 and naturally it did not increase America's 
 love for either the mother country, or 
 Germany. 
 
 The seeds of distrust once sown are hard 
 to uproot. The rift with England was healed 
 in the course of years by her generous treat- 
 ment of America the nation. But the course 
 that Germany took when we fought for free- 
 dom has always been remembered by contrast 
 with that of France, who sent over troops to 
 help us. With France to-day a peculiar and 
 beautiful friendship exists; and when we sent 
 over troops in our own turn to help her in her 
 distress, in the World War, General Pershing 
 
70 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 on landing said: "Lafayette, we have come!" 
 
 And now came the first great battle of the 
 
 Revoliiti(ni. The Americans met a force two 
 
 or three times their number, on Long Island 
 
 just across from New York, on August 27, 
 
 1770, and were badly defeated. The trained 
 
 British and Hessians were more than a match 
 
 for the ragged colonials, who fought bravely 
 
 and lost heavily. As Washington watched 
 
 the conflict he wrung his hands, exclaiming: 
 
 "What brave fellows I must this day lose!" 
 
 General Howe glowed with satisfaction, as 
 
 well he might. 
 
 "To-morrow evening will bring the fleet u^) 
 the river," he said, "and with an army on one 
 side of the rebels and our ships on the other, 
 we will bag the whole army and crush the 
 rebellion." 
 
 But the only trouble with Howe as well as 
 with the other British generals was that they 
 did not know Washington. He had foreseen 
 this defeat, and while he did not welcome it, 
 he knew that the lesson was needed, in order 
 to arouse the whole country to the necessity 
 of having a large and well-trained army. 
 While the battle was raging he had quietly 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 71 
 
 given orders to collect every boat small and 
 large in East River. That night, aided by a 
 dense fog which seemed providential, he em- 
 barked his men. Washington himself went 
 across on the last boat. He had been forty- 
 eight hours without sleep. When morning 
 dawned the British were chagrined to find that 
 their defeated enemy of yesterday was once 
 again an active enemy in the field somewhere 
 north of New York. 
 
 It is related that a Tory woman (that is, 
 a sympathizer with the British cause) had seen 
 the troojjs crossing the river, and had sent her 
 servant to British headquarters to announce 
 the fact. The Hessian sentry on duty did not 
 understand English, so locked up the mes- 
 senger on suspicion until morning, when it was 
 too late. That was one time when a soldier 
 "made in Germany" was not as good as the 
 home product ! 
 
 IIow fine it would be to write a story of 
 Washington which would abound in victories 
 for himself and his men in these first months 
 of the Revolution! But sober history shows 
 just the reverse; and indeed Washington the 
 man shows himself greater in defeat than in 
 
72 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 victory. He held his men together and fought 
 against tremendous odds. His men often 
 lacked the barest necessities of hfe. There 
 were sickness in camp, discouragement, and de- 
 sertion. Washington said: "Men just drag- 
 ged from the tender scenes of domestic life, 
 unaccustomed to the din of arms, totally un- 
 acquainted with every kind of military skill, 
 are timid, and ready to fly from their own 
 shadows. Besides, the sudden change in their 
 manner of living brings on an unconquerable 
 desire to return to their homes." 
 
 While he had every sympathy for raw, home- 
 sick troops, he had no patience with cowardice. 
 Soon after his retreat from Long Island he 
 established some breastworks in Harlem. The 
 British came up by water and attacked them. 
 The mihtia were seized with panic and fled 
 at the first advance. Washington dashed in 
 among them and endeavored to reform the 
 lines, but in vain. Losing his self-control he 
 exclaimed in a fury: 
 
 "Are these the men with whom I am to 
 defend America!" 
 
 He threatened some of the fleeing men with 
 pistol and sword, and was so heedless of liis 
 own danger that he might have fallen into the 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 73 
 
 enemy's hands, then only eighty yards distant, 
 had not one of his staff officers seized the 
 bridle of his horse and pulled him away 
 forcibly. 
 
 This was one of the few recorded instances 
 where Washington lost command of himself, 
 and it was but momentary. The condition of 
 the army was indeed critical. Most of the 
 men had enlisted for temis not exceeding a 
 year, and Congress was not offering induce- 
 ments to re-enlist. 
 
 "We are now, as it were, upon the eve of 
 another dissolution of the army," he wrote, 
 "and unless some speedy and effective meas- 
 ures are adopted by Congress, our cause will 
 be lost." 
 
 In September he wrote a long letter to this 
 effect to John Hancock, the President of Con- 
 gress, wihich finally led to the reorganization 
 of the army on a sounder basis. Meanwhile, 
 on October 28, the American forces suffered 
 another defeat at White Plains, although the 
 "ragged rebels," as the British contemp- 
 tuously called them, put up a splendid resist- 
 ance lasting through two days. 
 
 Contrast the picture of these two armies if 
 you can! The British advanced in two col- 
 
74 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 umns, the right commanded by Sir Henry 
 Clinton, the left by the Hessian general, De 
 Heister. There was also a troop of horse. 
 
 "It was a brilliant but formidable sight," 
 writes Heath in his memoirs. "The sun shone 
 bright, their arms glittered; and perhaps 
 troops never were shown to more advantage." 
 
 While here is a pen picture of the patriot 
 army written by a British officer to a friend: 
 
 "The rebel army are in so wretched a con- 
 dition as to clothing and accouterments, that 
 I believe no nation ever saw such a set of tat- 
 terdemalions. There are few coats among 
 them but what are out at elbows, and in a 
 whole regiment there is scarce a pair of 
 breeches. Judge, then, how they must be 
 pinched by a winter's campaign." 
 
 Despite the defeat at White Plains Wash- 
 ington withdrew his army in good order. 
 
 An aide pays this tribute to his strategy: 
 
 "The campaign hitherto," he says, "has been 
 a fair trial of generalship, in which I flatter 
 myself we have had the advantage. If we, 
 with our motley army, can keep Mr. Howe 
 and his grand appointment at bay, I think we 
 shall make no contemptible military figure." 
 
VIII 
 
 A RETREAT THAT ENDED IN VICTORY 
 
 After the battle of White Plains the Ameri- 
 cans continued to give ground. Indeed, there 
 was nothing left for them to do, to avoid the 
 continual prospect of capture. Washington's 
 next move was to cross the Hudson into Nfew 
 Jersey. His little army was so hard-pressed 
 that it narrowly escaped capture at Ilacken- 
 sack, by Cornwallis. 
 
 The army now did not exceed three thou- 
 sand men. In their rapid marches they had 
 lost much of their equipment including tents 
 and tools for digging entrenchments. Winter 
 was approaching and they were in a desperate 
 plight. 
 
 Washington himself was not free from at- 
 tack at home. A cabal was working against 
 him both in camp and in Congress to sup[)lant 
 him with another general. They said that he 
 
 75 
 
7C FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 was too cautious, that lie would not fight. 
 Some of his most trusted officers added to his 
 difficulties by disobeying or delaying to ex- 
 ecute his orders. But the commander-in- 
 chief did not reply to his critics. He set his 
 lips firmly together and hung on. 
 
 Cornwallis continued to press upon his re- 
 treat. Washington moved to Newark. It 
 was like the moves upon a gigantic cliecker- 
 board. He moved again to New Brunswick, 
 just as Cornwallis occupied Newark. So 
 close were the two armies that the last of 
 Washington's men was leaving Newark when 
 the British vanguard entered the town. 
 
 Moving from New Brunswick, Washington 
 marched by way of Princeton to Trenton, 
 reaching there the second day of December. 
 The Delaware River was now beginning to 
 fill with ice, but he collected all tlie boats 
 within seventy miles and safely crossed with his 
 army. Cornwallis in full pursuit reached the 
 eastern shore just as the last boat had gotten 
 safely over, and looked in vain for a means 
 of crossing. There was nothing for it, but to 
 encamp and wait for the river to freeze over, 
 which it promised to do in a few days. 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 77 
 
 It did indeed seem as though the cause of 
 freedom was lost, but the spirit of the leader 
 himself was firm and unbroken. 
 
 "What think you," he asked of General 
 Mercer; "if we should retreat to the back parts 
 of Pennsylvania, would the Pennsylvanians 
 support us?" 
 
 "If the lower counties give up, the back 
 counties will do the same," was the discourag- 
 ing reply. 
 
 "We must then retire to Virginia," said 
 Washington. "Numbers will repair to us for 
 safety, and we will try a predatory war. If 
 overpowered, we must cross the Alleghanies." 
 
 But never did the word "surrender" pass 
 his lips! 
 
 Instead, at the moment when the American 
 cause seemed most hopeless, he executed a bril- 
 liant coup against the enemy, and one which 
 changed tlie entire aspect of the campaign. 
 
 Cornwallis had himself returned to New 
 York for a few days, leaving the pursuing 
 army of Hessians encamped at Trenton. 
 With customary German thoroughness they 
 had seized everything in sight, and now set- 
 tled down to enjoy life. The enemy was on 
 
78 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 the run, Christmas was approaching — so why 
 not eat, drink and be merry? 
 
 But the American army, far from being on 
 the run, was quietly securing boats to re-cross 
 the river and attack them. On Christmas 
 night the expedition set out. It seemed the 
 v^ery worst time to attempt such a venture. 
 The weather was bitter cold, the air was filled 
 with particles of sleet, and the current with 
 floating cakes of ice. But the very desperate- 
 ness of the venture was its safeguard so far as 
 the enemy was concerned. He had eaten his 
 Christmas dinner, and secure against surprise 
 was sleeping it off. 
 
 During the thickest of that wild night 
 Washington and his brave men battled with 
 wind and stream and ice, getting safely over 
 with the loss of only two men who were frozen 
 to death. At four in the morning they began 
 a march overland through the storm to 
 Trenton. At eight they reached the village, 
 overpowered the sentries, and surrounded the 
 camp. 
 
 The Hessians were roused from their late 
 slumbers by the cry: "Der feind! der feind! 
 heraus!" (The enemy! the enemy! turn out!) 
 
Q 
 
 a 
 
 X 
 
 O 
 
GEOllGE WASHINGTON 79 
 
 but it was too laic. Their commandiii*^- ofliccr, 
 lialil, was killed, and all hut live hundred, 
 who managed to escape, laid down their arms. 
 One thousand were thus eaj)tured and, more 
 imi)ortant still, a large quantity of much- 
 needed suj)])lies was obtained. 
 
 Most ini[)ortant of all, new Hie had been put 
 into the army. A thrill ran through the whole 
 land. Patriots took heart again. This vic- 
 tory small in its tangible results will always 
 rank as one of the most dramatic and thrilling 
 events in American history. 
 
 The eajitin-cd Hessians were marched from 
 place to place until they reached V^irginia. 
 At first they were the object of much cm-ios- 
 ity, and upbraiding as well. Especially did 
 they liave to endure the scoldings of women in 
 the small towns, who told them that they had 
 hired tlu'mselves out to rob the Americans of 
 their liberty. 
 
 A German corporal who kept a diary of the 
 time writes: "At length Genei-al Washington 
 had written notices put up in town and coun- 
 try, that we were innocent of this war and had 
 joined in it not of our free will, but 
 through compulsion. We should, therefore, 
 
80 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 be treated not as enemies, but friends. From 
 this time things went better with us. Every 
 daj^ came many out of the towns, old and 
 young, rich and poor, and brought us pro- 
 visions, and treated us with kindness and 
 humanity." 
 
 When Cornwalhs learned of the disaster at 
 Trenton, he rode back from New York with 
 all haste. This time, Washington instead of 
 retreating decided to wait for him. Corn- 
 walhs brought fresh troops and supplies, and 
 his line when he reached Trenton extended 
 back to Princeton. Washington was en- 
 trenched on the opposite side of a small but 
 deep and swift stream which was spanned only 
 by a stone bridge. The enemy tried repeat- 
 edly to cross over, but without success. With 
 the approach of night they ceased firing and 
 made camp, each with his campfires in plain 
 sight of the other. 
 
 "Ntever mind," said Cornwallis to his men. 
 "I shall bag the old fox in the morning." 
 
 But when morning came, no Washington 
 was there. Instead of waiting to be bagged 
 he had marched swiftly and silently around 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 81 
 
 the British and was now trying to capture 
 their supplies at Princeton! 
 
 Cornwallis hurried back and although he 
 saved his baggage, he got the worst of it in 
 this his first direct encounter with Washing- 
 ton. The English general, in fact, now sud- 
 denly found conditions reversed. Instead of 
 being the pursuer he was now the pursued. 
 He entrenched himself in New Brunswick 
 where he could supply his needs by water, from 
 New York. And here all winter he stuck. 
 He could not send out so much as a foraging 
 party without danger of its capture. 
 
IX 
 
 FOES WITHOUT AND WITHIN 
 
 This hrit r life story of Washington will not 
 attempt to give a detailed aecount of t'lie prog- 
 ress o\' the Kevolulion. Kvery school his- 
 tory reeoiints it. We nnist therefore pass 
 liglitly on tlie siieeee(hng years of its ])rogress, 
 noting only sueli faets as may serve to hring in 
 eleai'cr detail our portrait of the great com- 
 mander. 
 
 Aftf^r the battle of I'l-inceton, Wasliington 
 made his headquarters at IMorristown, where 
 he kei)t a watchful eye upon the enemy in Ntw 
 York and New T^nniswick. ?ileanwhik^ he 
 was busily writing letters to Congress and to 
 various state legislatures urging them to send 
 more nicTi to fill up his (k'|)leted ranks. 
 
 "The enemy," he writes, "must be ignorant 
 of our numbers and situation, oi* they would 
 never suffer us to renuiin luunolested, and I 
 
 82 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 83 
 
 almost tax myself with imprudence in commit- 
 ting the fact to paper, lest this letter should 
 fall into other hands than those for which it 
 is intended." 
 
 To General Putnam he said: "Try to make 
 the enemy believe that your force is twice as 
 great as it is." And this precept was actually 
 put int( ^n-actice on at least one occasion, when 
 a wounded British officer was brouglit into 
 camp. Lights were placed in the windows 
 of vacant houses all over town, and a company 
 of soldiers was marched and countermarched 
 up and down the main street all night long. 
 Wlien the British officer was suffered to rejoin 
 his command he reported that the American 
 force w;is very active and must consist of at 
 least 5,000 men! 
 
 Washington also watched over his men with 
 a fatherly solicitude. We find him writing to 
 one of his brigadier generals as follows: "Let 
 vice and immorality of every kind be dis- 
 couraged as much as possible in your brigade; 
 and, as a chaplain is allowed to each regiment, 
 see that the men regularly attend divine wor- 
 ship. Gaming of every kind is expressly for- 
 bidden, as being the foundation of evil, and the 
 
84 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 cause of many a brave and gallant officer's 
 ruin." 
 
 The first definite successes of the American 
 army had an effect in another quarter. It 
 directed the attention of soldiers of fortime 
 in foreign lands, and many requests came 
 for permission to serve under Washington. 
 These w^ere as a rule embarrassing to him, as 
 the men usually brought nothing but inex- 
 perience, so far as America was concerned. 
 Two notable exceptions must be mentioned, 
 however. 
 
 Thaddeus Kosciusko, a Pole of ancient and 
 noble family, had been disappointed in a love 
 affair, and emigrated to America. Armed 
 with a letter from Franklin he sought out 
 Washington. 
 
 "What do j^ou seek here?" asked the com- 
 mander. 
 
 "To fight for American independence," was 
 the reply. 
 
 "What can you do?" 
 
 "Try me." 
 
 Washington was so pleased by the brief 
 but business-like manner of the young for- 
 eigner, that he made him an aide-de-camp. 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 85 
 
 Congress shortly after appointed him an 
 engineer with the rank of colonel; and he 
 proved a valuable officer during the succeed- 
 ing years of the Revolution. ; 
 
 The other name which is inseparably linked 
 with that of Washington, is of a certain gal- 
 lant young Frenchman, the Marquis de La- 
 fayette. Unlike Kosciusko, he did not turn 
 to America because of a disappointment in 
 love. Lafayette at twenty was happily mar- 
 ried and a favorite of the French court. But 
 his chivalrous spirit was so stirred by the 
 American struggles, that he turned his back 
 upon home and friends, and came to this coun- 
 try to cast in his lot with our uncertain for- 
 tunes. 
 
 He presented his letters of introduction to 
 Congress, only to meet with discouragement. 
 So many such requests had been received that 
 Congress felt it must go slow. Lafayette 
 then sent in the following note: "After my 
 sacrifices, I have the right to ask two favors; 
 one is to serve at my own expense; the other, 
 to commence by serving as a volunteer." 
 
 This simple appeal had its effect, and Con- 
 gress accorded him the rank of major-general. 
 
80 FAMOUS AJNli^nUCANS 
 
 Lalcr at a public (iiiiner he lirsl met Wash- 
 ington. The hitter was surrounded by his 
 stalF, but Lafayette ininiediately knew him by 
 his stature and coninianding presence. AVash- 
 ington greeted him graciously, and invited him 
 out to Iieadquarters. 
 
 "I cannot promise you the luxuries of a 
 court," said he, "but as you have become an 
 American soldier, you will doubtless accom- 
 modate yourself to the fare of an American 
 army." 
 
 Thus began a friendship between two high- 
 souled men, that was to be of lasting value to 
 the American cause. For in addition to his 
 own efforts and the funds he was able to raise, 
 Lafayette later influenced still greater aid 
 from France as a nation. 
 
 li.ifayette in his IMemoirs describes a review 
 of Washington's army which he witnessed soon 
 after reporting for duty. 
 
 "Fileven thousand men, but tolerably armed, 
 and still worse clad, presented a singular spec- 
 tacle; in Ihis j)arti-colored and often nak(>d 
 state, the best dresses were hunting shirts of 
 brown linen. Their tactics were equally ir- 
 regular. They were arrayed without regard 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 87 
 
 to size; cxcej)tiii^' tluit the snuillcst incri were 
 the front nink; with all this, there were pfood- 
 looking soldiers eoTidueted by zealous ofHeei-s." 
 
 "We ought to feel enibarrassed," said 
 Washington to him, "in presenting ourselves 
 before an offieer just from the French army." 
 
 "It is to learn, and not to instruct, that I 
 come here," was Lafayette's apt and modest 
 reply, and it gained for him immediate 
 I)opularity. 
 
 The year 1777 witnessed both victory and 
 defeat for the patriot army. In the North the 
 British gencraj, Burgoyne, was defeated in his 
 expedition south from Canada; and finally was 
 forced to comj)lete surrender. But Washing- 
 ton's forces in New Jersey wei*e not so suc- 
 cessful. In the battle of Brandywine, they 
 were surrounded and defeated by the British 
 under General Howe. As an immediate re- 
 sult. Congress had to leave Philadelphia, 
 which city was soon captured; and Washing- 
 ton took up winter quarters in Valley Forge, 
 about twenty miles away. 
 
 The horrors of that winter have often been 
 described and j)icture(l. The ill-clad men 
 were sheltered only by hastily constructed 
 
88 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 barracks, and lacked the barest necessities of 
 life. As they felled trees to build their huts, 
 the snow often showed bloodstains from their 
 unprotected feet. Sickness made its inroads. 
 Washington reported to Congress: 
 
 "No less than two thousand, eight hundred 
 and ninety-eight men are now in camp unfit 
 for duty, because they are barefoot and other- 
 wise naked." For lack of blankets, "numbers 
 have been obhged, and still are, to sit up all 
 night by fires, instead of taking comfortable 
 rest." He adds: "From my soul, I pity those 
 miseries which it is neither in my power to 
 relieve nor prevent." 
 
 Then the harassed commander gives us an- 
 other revealing glimpse of himself in this out- 
 burst: "It adds not a little to my other dif- 
 ficulties and distress, to find that much more 
 is expected from me than is possible to be 
 performed, and that, upon the ground of 
 safety and policj^ I am obliged to conceal the 
 true state of the army from public view, and 
 thereby expose myself to detraction and 
 calumny." 
 
 This outburst of feeling was caused by the 
 fact that a conspiracy had been under way for 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 89 
 
 some time, known as the "Conway Cabal" to 
 undermine him with Congress and the country 
 at large, and cause his resignation as com- 
 mander-in-chief, in favor of General Gates, 
 the victor over Burgoyne at Saratoga. Gen- 
 eral Gates's army had been reinforced at the 
 expense of the southern army, and the latter 
 left constantly exposed to a superior enemy — 
 as Washington pointed out in a letter to 
 Patrick Henry: 
 
 "My own difficulties, in the course of the 
 campaign, have been not a little increased by 
 the extra aid of colonial troops which the 
 gloomy prospect of our affairs in the North 
 induced me to spare from this army. But it 
 is to be hoped that all will yet end well. If 
 the cause is advanced, indifferent is it to me 
 where or in what quarter it happens'^ 
 
 Washington Irving, the general's name-sake 
 and greatest biographer, placed the last sen- 
 tence, which we have italicized, in capital 
 letters, saying, "It speaks the whole soul of 
 Washington. Glory with him is a secondary 
 consideration. Let those who win, wear the 
 laurel — sufficient for him is the advancement 
 of the cause." 
 
90 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 Yet he would have been less the great man, 
 if his soul had not revolted at the injustice of 
 his present position. 
 
 While he remained all winter at Valley 
 Forge sharing the hardships of his men and 
 striving to preserve their morale, or fighting 
 spirit, against the most tremendous odds, his 
 enemies in the cabal were openly active 
 against him. They called Gates to Yorktown, 
 now the seat of Congress, as head of the War 
 Board. Gates planned an expedition to Can- 
 ada, without consulting Washington, and to 
 add force to the covert insult, appointed La- 
 fayette as conmiander of the expedition. The 
 latter was still on Washington's personal 
 staff, and did not want to go under such aus- 
 pices. Washington, however, at once detached 
 him and gave him full permission to go. 
 
 Lafayette set out and went as far north as 
 Albany, but the expedition collapsed before it 
 was even launched; and the young jNIarquis 
 was glad to hasten back to Washington's own 
 command. 
 
 Washington's only comment at this time is 
 in a letter to another officer: "I shall say no 
 more of the Canada expedition than that it is 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 91 
 
 at an end. / never was made acquainted with 
 a single circumstance relating to it" 
 
 Although Washington was fully aware of 
 the effort on the part of his enemies to drive 
 him from command of the army, he never 
 made any public mention of it, nor any appeal 
 on his own behalf. 
 
 For the present his whole task was to shield 
 his army from want, and to preserve it as an 
 army through the winter — the darkest winter 
 that American liberty ever knew. His was a 
 twofold burden, but his devoted men never 
 guessed the half which related to him. 
 
 On the approach of spring, Washington 
 writes: "For some days past there has been 
 little less than a famine in the camp. A part 
 of the army has been a week without any kind 
 of flesh, and the rest three or four days. 
 Naked and starving as they are, we cannot 
 enough admire the incomparable patience and 
 fidelity of the soldiery, that they have not been, 
 ere this, excited by their suffering to a general 
 mutiny and desertion." 
 
 Who but Washington could have held them 
 together through this trying time? 
 
THE VAUYING FORTUNES OF WAR 
 
 With the approach of spring affairs began 
 to look up for the camp at Valley Forge. The 
 commissary department was reorganized by 
 Congress, and supphes began to arrive regu- 
 larly. The foraging troops even surprised 
 provision wagons intended for the British in 
 Philadelphia, and diverted them to the place 
 "where they would do the most good." 
 
 Another volunteer from Europe arrived at 
 this time in the person of Baron von Steuben, 
 a seasoned officer who had sensed under Fred- 
 erick the Great. He wrote a fine letter to 
 Washington, saying: "The object of my great- 
 est ambition is to render your country all the 
 service in my power, and to deserve tlic title of 
 a citizen of America by fighting for the cause 
 of your liberty. I would say moreover," he 
 added later, "were it not for the fear of offend- 
 
 92 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 93 
 
 ing your modesty, that Your Excellency is the 
 only person under whom, after having served 
 under the King of Prussia, I could wish to 
 pursue an art to which I have wholly given 
 myself up." 
 
 As the baron was a fine drill-master he was 
 of great service in training the troops ; but he 
 must have been shocked when he first saw them 
 in their winter camp. He afterwards declared 
 that no army in Europe could have been kept 
 together a single month under such conditions. 
 
 The conspiracy against Washington himself, 
 which had been working in Congress, also 
 came to an end. Gates was sent back to the 
 army of the North, with instructions to do 
 nothing of importance without consulting 
 Washington. Conway, the ringleader of the 
 cabal, was dismissed from the army. In a 
 word, the skies were brighter both for the 
 commander and the country, than for months 
 past. 
 
 The next piece of good news was that France 
 had made a formal treaty with America and 
 had pledged her aid in the fight for freedom. 
 Nothing could exceed the enthusiasm with 
 which this news was received. It reached 
 
94 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 Valley Forge in a day in early INIay when the 
 whole countryside had blossomed forth with 
 new life. It seemed that the flowers were 
 blooming and the trees bursting their buds in 
 sympath}'^ with the joyous troops. A dress 
 parade was held which was really a creditable 
 affair, thanks to the zeal of von Steuben. 
 Then came a thanksgiving service by the chap- 
 lains of each regiment; then a salute of thirteen 
 guns, amid cries of "Long live France! Huzza 
 for the American States!" A banquet fol- 
 lowed, with much toasting and speech-making. 
 
 England, alarmed by this treaty, passed a 
 Bill of Conciliation, offering to revise all tax- 
 ation measures for the colonies; to grant 
 pardon to the "rebels"; to appoint friendly 
 commissioners, and so forth. But it was too 
 late. Congi'ess would have none of it. Wash- 
 ington and some ten of his generals held a 
 council of war, just after that May-day fete, 
 and resolved to fight it out to the one objective 
 now dear to all their hearts — complete free- 
 dom. 
 
 With the approach of summer, the British 
 evacuated Philadelphia, where they had been 
 comfortably housed all winter. But their 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 95 
 
 ease and inaction proved their undoing. As 
 Franklin said: "The British have not taken 
 Philadelphia, but Philadelphia has taken the 
 British." With a force of about 20,000 men 
 they had been kept at bay by an American 
 force of half that number. England was so 
 dissatisfied that she removed General Howe, 
 and appointed Clinton as commander. His 
 first action was to retreat back across New 
 Jersey, toward New York. 
 
 Washington at once set out in pursuit, 
 reached his/ flank at Monmouth Court House, 
 and attacked him. The attack came near 
 ending in defeat for the American army, how- 
 ever, owing to the retreat of one of his trusted 
 generals, Lee. Washington rode up just in 
 time to halt his flying columns. 
 
 "What is the meaning of this, sir?" he cried, 
 with an oath. 
 
 It was one of those rare occasions when the 
 commander lost his temper ; and eye-witnesses 
 say that he was terrible to behold. But he 
 speedily reformed the troops and turned the 
 defeat into victory. Tliat he swore in his 
 wrath is pretty well vouched for by history; 
 and even his most careful biographers seem to 
 
96 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 tliiiik that a few "cuss-words" were justifia])le! 
 
 During' tlie next few months, the American 
 army f()u<iiit generally on the defensive, con- 
 tenting itself witli keeping the IJritish army 
 constantly on the alert. The French made 
 good their promises by sending a fleet over to 
 harass the British, but its first ventures brought 
 no definite results. Still that it was in action 
 and might at any moment strike the enemy 
 ke})t up the spirits of the patriot army. 
 
 One constant anxiety to Washington was 
 the poor pay wliich his men received. Con- 
 gress was not altogether to blame for this, as 
 it as yet had no power to levy taxes. Each 
 State still issued its own money and raised its 
 own funds. But the paper money thus issued 
 finally became so cheap that forty or fifty 
 paper dollars were scarcely equal to one silver 
 one. 
 
 The soldiers often grew so discoiu-aged over 
 this and insufficient rations that companies 
 would threaten to quit in a body. It required 
 all of Washington's di])lomacy to hold them in 
 line. On one occasion when an expedition had 
 been planned against the Indians of Central 
 New York, to prevent their frequent raids and 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 97 
 
 massacres, the chosen brigade quietly but 
 firmly refused to march until they had received 
 their pay. They offered as an excuse that 
 theu' families were starving. Of course from 
 a military point of view this was inexcusable, 
 and they could have been court-martialed. 
 But Washington laid aside discipline. He 
 went among the men and talked to them "like 
 a father," then went to the state legislature, 
 and finally got the matter smoothed over. 
 
 While some states made good in their 
 quotas of men and money, others were very 
 remiss. This made the planning of extended 
 campaigns difficult. The British saw this 
 weakness, and sent a portion of their army 
 south by water to Savannah and Charleston; 
 whence they speedily overran the southern 
 tier of states. 
 
 Washington thereupon petitioned Congress 
 to remedy this defect by placing all military 
 matters under the control of Congress, aided 
 by a committee of staff officers. At first that 
 body demurred, and their reasons are worth 
 quoting: They did not desire to put so much 
 power in a few hands, especially in those of 
 the commander-in chief, feeling "that his in- 
 
98 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 fluence was already too great; that even his 
 virtues afforded motives for alarm; that the 
 enthusiasm of the army, joined to the kind of 
 dictatorship already confided to him, put Con- 
 gress and the United States at his mercy; 
 that it was not expedient to expose a man of 
 the higliest virtues to such temptations." 
 
 Truly a hackhanded compliment, which 
 while praising Washington showed the jeal- 
 ousy existing because of his influence over his 
 men! 
 
 Another great general — Napoleon Bona- 
 parte — did in fact make use of such a situation, 
 at a little later date, to found an empire with 
 himself as emperor. But Washington was 
 not that kind of man. 
 
 Not content with petitioning Congress, 
 Washincrton also wrote many letters to the 
 state bodies, and obtained some measures of 
 relief. That his men were kept in the ranks 
 at all during the third and fourth years of the 
 war was due largely to his personal efforts. 
 
 ^Meanwhile his devoted friend Lafayette had 
 returned to France, and thanks to his efforts a 
 force of 5,000 men under Rochambeau was 
 sent to America, reaching this country in the 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 99 
 
 summer of 1780. A combined attack by 
 French and American forces, by both land and 
 sea, was contemplated, but had to be post- 
 poned. The British were making a vigorous 
 campaign in South Carolina and Georgia. 
 And hard upon this came the treason of Bene- 
 dict Arnold at West Point. 
 
 The story of Arnold has been often told; 
 his treachery struck Washington a keener 
 blow than any other single event in the war. 
 Arnold had been a brave soldier and one of 
 Washington's most trusted generals. His 
 conduct in the first years of the war had been 
 markedly Brilliant. In one action he had been 
 severely wounded in one leg. What motives 
 led to his final treachery are not clearly known, 
 beyond the fact that Congress had once repri- 
 manded him for a petty misdemeanor, and 
 also that he was in need of money to pay 
 large personal debts; for he lived extrava- 
 gantly. 
 
 Washington entrusted to him the command 
 of West Point. Arnold plotted to surrender 
 this strong fort to the British for $50,000 in 
 money and the rank of brigadier general in 
 their army. Major John Andre was'cntrusted 
 
100 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 by the British with the final negotiations. At 
 the last moment their plot miscarried, and 
 Andre was captured by three militiamen at 
 Tarrytown. Poor Andre suffered the fate of 
 a spy and was executed. Arnold escaped to a 
 British ship and took up arms against his 
 country. He received a commission, as prom- 
 ised, but he was execrated by the British no 
 less than by those he would have betrayed. 
 He became a man without a country. Once 
 when talking to an American prisoner, he 
 asked what would have been done to him, had 
 he been captured. 
 
 "They would have cut off the leg wounded 
 in the service of your country, and buried it 
 with the honors of war," was the reply. "But 
 the rest of you they would have hanged." 
 
 Washington's opportune arrival at West 
 Point prevented any other ill results from 
 Arnold's treason; but the commander himself 
 was profoundly shaken by the tidings. Tak- 
 ing Knox and Lafayette to one side, he placed 
 in their hands the letter intercepted on Andre's 
 person, from Arnold. 
 
 "Whom can we trust now?" was his only 
 comment. But it spoke volumes. 
 
XI 
 
 THE SURRENDER AT YORKTOWN 
 
 Fortunately for us all, the army did not 
 bring out any more Benedict Arnolds. Wash- 
 ington found that, although his men mur- 
 mured at times over their hardships and poor 
 pay, they could be trusted. One historic in- 
 cident which occurred not long after proved 
 this very forcibly. 
 
 Some of General Wayne's men mutinied, 
 because Congress had not paid them, as prom- 
 ised. As one officer wrote Washington: 
 
 "I will not pain you with further accounts 
 of the wants and sufferings of this army. 
 There is not a shilling in the pay chest, nor a 
 prospect of any for months to come. This is 
 really making bricks without straw." 
 
 Wayne's men openly mutinied, and taking 
 their guns marched out of camp. As we 
 would say to-day, they "struck." Clinton, the 
 
 101 
 
102 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 Britis'h general in New York, heard of it and 
 sent agents to them promising food, clothing 
 and pay in abundance if they would join his 
 arm5^ The agents were promptly hung as 
 spies. 
 
 "We are not traitors to our country," they 
 answered. 
 
 Their curious brand of loyalty, while it 
 might imperil one enterprise, was proof against 
 treason. The men were dealt with firmly but 
 kindly, and kept in the service. The pay chest, 
 however, was empty most of the time. 
 
 But better days were ahead for the Ameri- 
 can arni}^ in this year of 1781. The first rift 
 in the clouds occurred in the South. Corn" 
 wallis had won a decisive victory at Camden, 
 S. C, and thought that the war was over in 
 that section, until a band of Carolina and 
 Tennessee mountaineers trapped one of his 
 ablest officers at King's Mountain and won 
 a lively battle there. Cornwallis, alarmed, 
 stayed more closely to the seaboard after this. 
 He began a march northward through the 
 Carolinas and Virginia, being continually 
 hampered and annoyed by the patriot forces 
 under Greene. They avoided general engage- 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 103 
 
 merits, but buzzed around the enemy like a 
 swarm of angry hornets. CornwalHs was glad 
 at last to reach Yorktown, Virginia, where he 
 could be in touch, by sea, with the general 
 headquarters in New York. He thought he 
 had reached a haven of safety; but it proved a 
 death-trap. 
 
 Thanks to the efforts of Benjamin Franklin 
 in France, and the brilliant example of Lafa- 
 yette who was actively fighting on Washing- 
 ton's staff, the French Government sent a fleet 
 of twenty warships to America, and three 
 thousand men. General Clinton, the British 
 commander-in-chief in New York, was afraid 
 of an attack upon that city, especially as 
 Washington had made a great parade from 
 the Jersey side. So Clinton, instead of send- 
 ing men to Cornwallis, actually asked him for 
 three regiments. 
 
 But Washington and his French allies did 
 not strike at New York. Instead they turned 
 swiftly south and began a closing-in movement 
 on Cornwallis at Yorktown. Too late the 
 latter saw his danger ; but he was strongly en- 
 trenched and he expected supplies and rein- 
 
104. FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 forcements by water. He did not know that 
 the French fleet was to the north of him. 
 
 By the first of October the line of besiegers, 
 nearl}^ two miles from the Yorktown forts, 
 had thrown up a redoubt each end resting on 
 the river and completely cutting off the British 
 communication by land. The French ren- 
 dered valuable aid by both land and sea. 
 
 Washington personally directed these hem- 
 ming-in operations, and was frequently in 
 range of the enemy's guns. Once a shot 
 struck close to his feet throwing up a cloud of 
 dust. His chaplain who stood by was greatly 
 alarmed for the leader's safety. Taking off 
 his own hat and showing it covered with sand, 
 he said, "See here, General!" 
 
 "Mr. Evans," retorted Washington, smiling, 
 "you had better carry that home, and show it 
 to your wife and children." 
 
 At another time an aide remonstrated with 
 him for thus keeping in an exposed position. 
 "It is dangerous, sir," he said. 
 
 "If you think so," replied Washington, "you 
 are at liberty to step back." 
 
 Shortly afterwards another musket ball fell 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 105 
 
 at his feet, and this time one of his generals 
 grasping him by the arm tried forcibly to pull 
 him back, exclaiming, "We can't spare you 
 yet!" 
 
 "It is a spent ball," replied the commander 
 quietly. "No harm is done." 
 
 When the enveloping movement around the 
 town was completed and the outer forts actu- 
 aUy seized, Washington at last stepped back 
 out of gunshot. 
 
 "The work is done, and well done!" he said 
 with a sigh of relief. 
 
 The words might have been prophetic of the 
 whole war, now so soon to end. 
 
 Shut off by land, Cornwallis sent urgent 
 messages to Clinton for relief. The latter at 
 last awoke to the seriousness of the situation 
 and sent a fleet with seven thous«,nd men 
 to the Virginia capes. But before he ar- 
 rived there, he received word that Cornwallis 
 had surrendered; and the relief army turned 
 north again. Although Clinton did not real- 
 ize it at the time, in trying to save New York 
 he had lost America. 
 
 So closely was Yorktown invested, that 
 within ten days after the siege began, Corn- 
 
106 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 wallis surrendered. He sent out messengers 
 under a flag of truce to arrange terms, and 
 was allowed to march out of town with the 
 honors of war. Washington elected not to 
 receive the submission of the beaten army in 
 person, but generously gave that honor to 
 General Lincoln, whose own army had met 
 defeat in Charleston, at the hands of Corn- 
 wallis. An eye-witness has given us this 
 graphic description of the ceremony: 
 
 *'At about twelve o'clock the combined army 
 was drawn up in two hnes more than a mile 
 in length, the Americans on the right side of 
 the road, the French on the left. Washington 
 mounted on a noble steed, and attended by his 
 staff, was in front of the former; the Count de 
 Rochambeau and his suite, of the latter. The 
 French troops in complete uniform and well 
 equipped made a brilliant apj^earance, and had 
 marched to the ground with a band of music 
 playing, which was a novelty in the American 
 service. The American troops but part in 
 uniform and all in garments much the worse 
 for wear, yet had a spirited, soldier-like air, 
 and were not the worse in the eyes of their 
 countrj^men for bearing the marks of hard 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 107 
 
 service and great privations. The concourse 
 of spectators from the country seemed equal 
 in number to the mihtary, yet silence and 
 order prevailed. 
 
 "At two o'clock the garrison sallied forth, 
 and passed through with shouldered arms, slow 
 and solemn steps, colors cased, and drums 
 beating a British march. They were all well 
 clad, having been furnished with new suits 
 prior to the capitulation. Thej^ were led by 
 General O'Hara on horseback, who, riding up 
 to General Washington, took off his hat and 
 apologized for the non-appearance of Lord 
 Cornwallis, on account of indisposition. 
 
 "Washington received him with dignified 
 courtesy, but pointed to Major-General Lin- 
 coln as the officer who was to receive the 
 submission of the garrison. By him they were 
 conducted into a field where they were to 
 ground their arms. In passing through the 
 line formed by the allied army, their march 
 was careless and irregular, and their aspect 
 sullen, the order to 'ground arms' was given 
 by their platoon officers with a tone of deep 
 chagrin, and many of the soldiers threw down 
 their muskets with a violence sufficient to 
 
108 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 break them. This irregularity was checked 
 by General Lincoln; yet it was excusable in 
 brave men in their unfortunate predicament. 
 This ceremony over, they were conducted back 
 to Yorktown, to remain under guard until re- 
 moved to their places of destination." 
 
 Another account states that the British 
 marched out to the tune, "The World Turned 
 Upside Down." It probably expressed the 
 state of their feelings! 
 
 The next morning Washington issued gen- 
 eral orders praising both armies for their fine 
 conduct. He pardoned and set at liberty all 
 of his army who were under arrest. And he 
 asked that services of thanksgiving be iheld 
 and "that the troops not on duty should uni- 
 versally attend, with seriousness of deport- 
 ment and gratitude of heart." 
 
 Cornwallis's "indisposition" which prevented 
 him from surrendering his sword in person 
 was not merely pique. The proud British 
 peer was almost sick with humiliation and 
 grief. But he wrote later in much apprecia- 
 tion of the consideration shown him and his 
 men by the allied troops. "The treatment, in 
 general, that we have received from the enemy 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 109 
 
 since our surrender has been perfectly good 
 and proper." 
 
 Cornwallis was not only spared the mortifi- 
 cation of handmg over his sword in person ; he 
 and his staff were entertained at dinner by 
 Washington. At this meal, so the story goes, 
 Rochambeau, being asked for a toast, gave 
 "The United States." Washington gave "The 
 King of France." Lord Cornwallis simply 
 pledged "The King." But Washington, an- 
 swering this toast, quickly added, "of Eng- 
 land." Then said smilinglj^ "Confine him 
 there, and I'll drink him a full bumper!" 
 
 Cornwallis never forgot Washington's court- 
 esy, and some years later when governor-gen- 
 eral of India he sent a message to his old foe 
 wishing "General Washington a long enjoy- 
 ment of tranquillity and happiness," and add- 
 ing that he himself "continued in troubled 
 waters." 
 
 Meanwhile, the rejoicings begun in the 
 American camp had continued throughout 
 the Union. 
 
 "Cornwallis is taken! Cornwallis is taken!'* 
 The word spread like wildfire. It was con- 
 sidered the deathblow of the war. 
 
110 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 Congress was in a transport of joy. Two 
 stands of colors were voted to Washington, 
 and trophies to the French commanders, with 
 the official thanks of the nation. 
 
 Far different was the sensation aroused in 
 England. Lord North, the prime minister, 
 received the tidings "as he would have taken a 
 musket hall in the breast," according to an 
 eye-witness. "He opened his arms, exclaim- 
 ing wildly as he paced up and down the 
 apartment: 
 
 "'Oh God! It is all over I'" 
 
XII 
 
 THE ENI> OF ARMY LIFE 
 
 Although the surrender of CornwalHs was 
 the last great stroke of the war, several months 
 passed by before it was actually ended. They 
 were months filled with peril and anxiety for 
 the commander-in-chief and his advisers. 
 
 In the first place, the news of the great 
 victory caused a great let-down among the 
 states as to enlistments and pay; and in the 
 second, Congress was still far behind with pay 
 already promised and earned. But Congress, 
 we must remember, was not much to blame, 
 as it had as yet very little actual authority. 
 'No Constitution had as yet been adopted. 
 
 The army was in danger of dwindling away, 
 with thousands of British soldiers still on 
 American soil. So it was Washington's con- 
 stant task to keep his men in line with one 
 
 hand, so to speak, and Congress with the other. 
 
 Ill 
 
112 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 He was our first great apostle of preparedness. 
 
 "Even if the British nation and Parliament 
 are really in earnest to obtain peace with 
 America," he said, "it will undoubtedly be wis- 
 dom in us to meet them with great caution, 
 and by all means to keep our arms firm in our 
 hands. No nation ever yet suffered in treaty 
 by preparing, even in the moment of nego- 
 tiation, most vigorously for the field." 
 
 Just about this time we find him the recipi- 
 ent of a very strange ofl^er. Some of his mili- 
 tary officers, losing patience with Congress and 
 realizing that a strong central power was 
 needed, openly hinted that the comitry should 
 have a limited monarchy, with Washington as 
 king! When this suggestion reached him he 
 lost his temper — another of the few historic oc- 
 casions when it got away from him. The men 
 who secretly visited him with the suggestion 
 were roundly scolded. The general paced the 
 room in a towering rage. 
 
 "No occurrence in the course of the war has 
 given me more painful sensations," he said. 
 "I am at a loss to conceive what part of my 
 conduct could have given encouragement to 
 an address which to me seems big with the 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 118 
 
 greatest mischiefs that can befall my country." 
 And he ends: "Let me conjure you, then, if 
 you have any regard for your country or re- 
 spect for me, to banish these thoughts from 
 your mind, and never communicate, as from 
 yourself or any one else, a sentiment of the like 
 nature." 
 
 Compare Napoleon's course, at a later time 
 when a similar temptation came to him, and 
 he seized it to crown himself an emperor, — 
 and ask yourself which was the greater man! 
 
 Washington's wonderful control over his 
 army was shown again and again, and never 
 more so than in these closing months of the 
 war when the country was stiU in chaos and 
 confusion. Once when a portion of the army 
 while in winter quarters at Newburgh, on the 
 Hudson, was on the brink of mutiny against 
 Congress, Washington was sent for in hot 
 haste to quell the discontent. On reaching the 
 camp an unsigned letter was thrust into his 
 hand, stating the army's grievances. He re- 
 plied to it at length, agreeing to the justice 
 of its contentions, but also pointing out that 
 the army was proceeding the wrong way in 
 rectifying them. 
 
lU FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 IMajor Shaw, who was present, has given us 
 an account of this scene. He relates that 
 Washington, after reading the first part of the 
 letter, made a short pause, took out his spec- 
 tacles and begged the indulgence of his au- 
 dience while he put them on, observing at the 
 same time that he had grown gray in their 
 service, and now found himself growing blind., 
 
 "There was something so natural, so un- 
 affected in this appeal," adds Shaw, "as 
 rendered it superior to the most studied or- 
 atory. It forced its way to the heart, and 
 you might see sensibility moisten eveiy eye." 
 
 The articles of peace between the new na- 
 tion and the old were not signed until Jan- 
 uary 20, 1783 — nearly eight years after the 
 Battle of Lexington. News traveled slowly 
 in those days, and it was not until April that 
 Congress in Philadelphia and the British com- 
 mander in New York ordered a cessation of 
 hostilities by sea and land. Before the formal 
 notice could be carried into effect, Washington 
 gave many furloughs to his war-worn men. 
 They were sent singly or in small groups to 
 their homes, on an indefinite leave of absence. 
 This was not only kindness to the men, it re- 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 115 
 
 lieved the countrj^ from a great danger, of 
 disbanding large masses of unpaid soldiery at 
 once. 
 
 Says Irving: "Now and then were to be seen 
 three or four in a group, bound probably to 
 the same neighborhood, beguiling the way with 
 camp jokes and camp stories. The war-worn 
 soldier was always kindly received at the farm- 
 houses along the road, where he might shoulder 
 his gun and fight over his battles. The men 
 thus dismissed on furlough were never called 
 upon to rejoin the army. Once at home they 
 sank into domestic life; their weapons were 
 hung up over their tire-places, military tro- 
 phies of the Revolution to be prized by future 
 generations." 
 
 The commander himself had the same feel- 
 ings as his men, when he thought of home. 
 Mount Vernon had been very dear to him, but 
 for eight long years he had been an exile from 
 its friendly roof. In a general letter to the 
 governors of the various states, upon the break- 
 ing up of the army, he says : 
 
 "The great object for which I had the honor 
 to hold an appointment in the service of my 
 country being accomplished, I am now pre- 
 
116 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 paring to return to that domestic retirement 
 which, it is well known, I left with the greatest 
 reluctance ; a retirement for which I have never 
 ceased to sigh, through a long and painful 
 absence, and in which (remote from the noise 
 and trouble of the world) I meditate to pass 
 the remainder of life in a state of undisturbed 
 repose." 
 
 Nothing could be freer from personal am- 
 bition than such a desire — but Destiny was by 
 no means through with this her chosen vessel! 
 
 It was not until October that the army 
 absent on leave was formally discharged. The 
 British completed the evacuation of New York 
 in November, and Washington with the re- 
 mainder of his forces marched in. On Decem- 
 ber 4, he assembled his officers at Fraunces' 
 Tavern, and bade farewell to them. As he 
 saw himself surrounded by his comrades in 
 arms who had shared his perils and privations, 
 he was so overcome with emotion that for a 
 few moments he could not speak. When he 
 had obtained self-control he said : 
 
 "With a heart full of love and gratitude, 
 I now take leave of you, most devoutly wish- 
 ing that your latter days may be as pros- 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 117 
 
 perous and happy as your former ones have 
 been glorious and honorable.'* Then he added 
 with emotion: "I cannot come to each of you 
 to take my leave, but shall be obliged if each 
 of you will come and take me by the hand." 
 A few moments later a ferry took him from 
 the city, and he proceeded to Congress to 
 tender his formal resignation. He received 
 the thanks of that body and at last turned his 
 face toward Mount Vernon. General Wash- 
 ington, the commander, had become George 
 Washington, the private citizen. 
 
XIII 
 
 WASHINGTON TRIES UNSUCCESSFULLY TO 
 REMAIN A PRIVATE CITIZEN 
 
 Washington reached home in the dead of 
 winter. The roads were blocked with snow. 
 But once by his roaring fireside, he welcomed 
 the shut-in days. They gave him just the 
 chance he needed to rest and take mental 
 stock of himself. 
 
 "Strange as it may seem," he wrote to 
 General Knox, "it is nevertheless true that it 
 was not until very lately I could get the better 
 of my usual custom of ruminating as soon as 
 I wake in the morning, on the business of the 
 ensuing day; and of my surprise at finding, 
 after revolving many things in my mind, that 
 I was no longer a public man, nor had any- 
 thing to do v/ith public transactions." 
 
 Mrs. Washington completes the picture of 
 his domestic comfort, as she sat on the opposite 
 side of the fire always knitting, in the early 
 
 118 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 119 
 
 evening hours. She had become an inveterate 
 knitter during the war, making socks for the 
 soldiers, and doubtless inspiring the making 
 of many others, by her example. What a 
 tower of strength she would have been to the 
 Red Cross of later wars! 
 
 One of the first invited guests to Mount 
 Vernon was Lafayette, between whom and 
 Washington a constant bond of affection had 
 been maintained. While there, Lafayette 
 went to Fredericksburg to pay his respects to 
 Washington's aged mother. As he spoke in 
 eloquent praise of the man he so loved and 
 honored, Mary Washington responded quietly, 
 "I am not surprised at what George has done, 
 for he was always a good boy." 
 
 Simple tribute of a devoted mother heart! 
 Mary Washington lived on a few years longer 
 — until 1789 — to see her son receive the highest 
 gifts in the power of a new and grateful 
 nation. 
 
 Meanwhile in the present year of 1784, he 
 was finding it more and more difficult to re- 
 main the simple private citizen. As the roads 
 cleared up, with the advent of spring, visitors 
 of all sorts flocked to Mount Vernon. Some 
 
120 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 had business, or fancied they had, while others 
 came out of curiosity to see the most-talked-of 
 man in America. By person and by letter his 
 opinions were sought. Letters came to him 
 from all over the world, and he was hard put 
 to it to answer them. Here was one from the 
 King and Queen of France inviting him to 
 visit their country as their guest. Here, a 
 plea for advice as to the best way to reclaim 
 public lands, or to ci\'ilize the Indians. Here, 
 a request that he would stand godfather to 
 a child that was to be named for him — the 
 first of countless children white, black, and 
 yellow who were to be called George Wash- 
 ington ! 
 
 As he tried to keep pace with the daily de- 
 mands upon him, he came to reahze with a 
 start the great change that the war had made 
 in him. He had entered it a Virginian; he 
 came out of it an American. As he studied 
 the problem during those first snowbound days 
 at home, he saw that the only hope of the 
 country lay — not in separate state control — 
 but in a union of states. He began to write 
 letters advocating this plan to each of the 
 states — and he kept it up. He pointed out 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 121 
 
 that the thirteen states could never make any 
 headway pulling and hauling against each 
 other. As a single example of the need for 
 united action, there was the western frontier, 
 held by Indians, English, with the Spanish 
 in the South — all jealous of the new nation 
 and ready to make trouble. 
 
 He pleaded for a central government with 
 what he called "a federal head." His former 
 soldiers already knew his sentiments along 
 these lines; for had they not watched him 
 battle for their interests with a patriotic but 
 impotent Congress? So as the subject be- 
 came one of general debate these old veterans 
 would nod their heads sagely and remark : 
 
 "Yes, that's what General Washington 
 thinks about it — and he ought to know!" 
 
 But new ideas move slowly; and although 
 Washington was not alone in this thought, 
 other public men adding their voice to it, two 
 years and more went by, before the project 
 began to take shape. The governors were re- 
 luctant to yield their powers to a scheme they 
 did not understand. One convention was 
 called to meet in Annapohs, in 1786, but fell 
 through. Then at last a meeting was called 
 
122 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 successfully at Philadelphia, in May, 1787. 
 It was known as the Federal Convention. Its 
 purpose was to provide a working plan by 
 which the states could retain their separate 
 power, and yet work together. Nobody had 
 ever heard of such a scheme, and of course 
 many were skeptical. 
 
 The convention brought together some able 
 men, the tried and true of the Revolution. 
 There was old Benjamin Franklin of Penn- 
 sylvania, a patriarch universally esteemed; 
 John Adams and his cousin Samuel of Mass- 
 achusetts; Alexander Hamilton, who had 
 served brilliantly on Washington's staff, and 
 was to display unusual ability in statecraft; 
 Thomas Jefferson, his great political rival ; and 
 many another. It has been said that no 
 revolution ever produced so many notable men 
 as this of America. But by common consent, 
 Washington was the ablest man of them all. 
 He was unanimously chosen president of the 
 convention. 
 
 The result is a matter of history — the writ- 
 ing of the Constitution of the United States, 
 an unique document in the history of the 
 world, with its lofty preamble : 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 123 
 
 "We, the People of the United States, in 
 order to form a more perfect Union, esLablish 
 Justice, insure domestic Tranquillity, provide 
 for the common defense, promote the general 
 Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty 
 to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and 
 establish this Constitution for the United 
 States of America." 
 
 But *'the People of the United States" did 
 not accept this strange new document all to- 
 gether or all at once. It required several 
 months more of separate arguing and persuad- 
 ing before the required number of states — at 
 least nine — entered into this joint agreement 
 and made it binding. And there is no doubt 
 that the first name signed to it, that of George 
 Washington, did much to convince the people 
 that it was probably the best document that 
 could be produced as chart and compass for 
 the new Ship of State. 
 
 When Washington as presiding officer took 
 up his pen to sign the Constitution, it is said 
 that he remarked slowly and solemnly: 
 "Should the States reject this excellent Consti- 
 tution, the probability is that an opportunity 
 
124 FAMOUS AJVIERICANS 
 
 will never again be offered to cancel another in 
 peace; the next will be drawn in blood." 
 
 What he must have meant was that without 
 such a safeguard the states would soon be 
 torn by internal dissensions and would fall 
 an easy prey to the next foreign power who 
 might undertake a conquest. 
 
 On September 13, 1788, Congress gave 
 notice that the Constitution had been ratified 
 by a sufficient number of states, and that an 
 election would be held in the succeeding Jan- 
 uary for a President of the United States, to 
 take office on the first Wednesday in March, in 
 the new seat of government, the city of New 
 York. 
 
 Then came the all-important task of choos- 
 ing the first President — but this proved not 
 nearly so difficult as adopting the Constitution 
 itself. Only one man seemed the logical 
 candidate — the man who had led the troops 
 through the long years of the Revolution and 
 kept them together until final victory; the 
 man who had been "father" to the Consti- 
 tution. It could be none other than George 
 Washington. Hamilton, who first called him 
 the father of the Constitution, told liim that 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 125 
 
 the whole country wanted him, and that it was 
 his duty to accept the call. 
 
 "But I do not desire the office," protested 
 Washington, honestly. "Let those who wish 
 such things as office or leadership be at the 
 head of things. All I desire now is to settle 
 down at Mount Vernon and live and die an 
 honest man on my own farm." 
 
 To Lafayette and others of his friends he 
 expressed himself in the same fashion. It 
 was with "unfeigned reluctance" that he 
 viewed the possibility of his election, and noth- 
 ing but a sense of duty which inclined him to 
 accept. Washington was in fact fifty-seven 
 years of age. At least half his life had been 
 "in the saddle" for public affairs. He had 
 just passed through one of the most gruel- 
 ling experiences that had ever fallen to the 
 lot of man. He knew also that the Chief 
 Executive of a brand new nation would have 
 his hands filled to overflowing. Add to this 
 his deep love for his own home, and we can 
 well see that he was sincere in his desire to 
 avoid this new honor. 
 
 But Washington was never a man to shirk 
 a plain duty; and when the January elections 
 
126 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 showed him to be the overwhehning (Choice of 
 the whole country, — every one of the sixty- 
 nine electoral votes having been cast for him 
 — he put his own ease and quiet aside again. 
 George Washington, private citizen, ordered 
 his horse saddled, and rode away from Mount 
 Vernon, back into public life to become Pres- 
 ident Washington. 
 
XIV 
 
 PRESIDENT WASHINGTON 
 
 An entry in Washington's diary dated April 
 16 reads: "About ten o'clock I bade adieu to 
 Mount Vernon, to private life, and to domestic 
 felicity ; and with a mind oppressed with more 
 anxious and painful sensations than I have 
 words to express, set out for New York with 
 the best disposition to render service to my 
 country, in obedience to its call, but with less 
 hope of answering its expectations." 
 
 But if Washington had misgivings as to his 
 ability to fill the high position, his fellow citi- 
 zens did not share his anxiety. His journey 
 to New York was a triumphal progress. The 
 ringing of bells and the salutes of cannon pro- 
 claimed his course throughout the country. 
 Old and young came out to meet him and wish 
 him Godspeed; children strewed flowers in his 
 horse's path. Over the bridge crossing the 
 
 127 
 
128 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 river at Trenton — the same stream that he had 
 braved in an open boat during the storm of 
 a winter's night — an arch of laurel and ever- 
 green had been erected with the words: 
 
 "The defender of the mothers will be the 
 protector of the daughters." 
 
 A military parade was formed for his en- 
 trance into Philadelphia, and a superb white 
 horse was led out for him to mount. As he 
 passed through the garlanded streets w^hile 
 people waved and cheered themselves hoarse, 
 he must have remembered the time only a few 
 short months before when he and his little 
 army huddled together like culprits at Valley 
 Forge, while the enemy held these same streets 
 and houses. 
 
 Washington had requested that his entry 
 into New York be quiet — but again his pref- 
 erences were overruled. The overjoyed coun- 
 tiy just had to celebrate. A committee from 
 both Houses of Congress met him at Eliza- 
 bethtown Point where a splendid barge awaited 
 to convey him by water to the city. As 
 his barge passed on up into New York 
 harbor other boats fell in line, forming a 
 nautical parade. Many of these boats were 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 129 
 
 decorated, and there were singers or bands of 
 music aboard. The vessels in the harbor, 
 gayly dressed, fired salutes as the presidential 
 barge passed by. One alone, a Spanish man- 
 of-war, remained silent and bare of ornament, 
 until just as the barge came abreast, when as 
 if by magic the yards were manned, and the 
 ship burst forth, as it were, into a full array 
 of flags, while it thundered a salute of thirteen 
 guns. 
 
 From the landing at the Battery carpets 
 were spread to a carriage that was to convey 
 him to his official residence; but he preferred 
 to walk. Attended by a parade of citizens 
 and soldiers he passed through cheering lanes 
 of people and along streets literally smothered 
 in flowers and bunting. Never had the city 
 witnessed such a scene. 
 
 His triumphal entry, however, did not fill 
 him with pride. Instead, it gave him later 
 moments of anxious thought, as he confided to 
 his faithful diary. 
 
 "I must not fail my people now!" was the 
 burden of his prayer. 
 
 The public inauguration took place on the 
 30th day of April, 1789. At nine o'clock in 
 
130 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 the morning religious services were held in all 
 the churches, Old Trinity at the head of Wall 
 Street having an especially noteworthy serv- 
 ice. At twelve o'clock the troops paraded 
 before Washington's door, and were soon fol- 
 lowed by the committees from Congress and 
 other public officials. The procession then 
 moved forward escorting Washington, who 
 rode in a coach of state, to the Senate Build- 
 ing. This stately structure which occupied 
 the spot where the Sub-Treasury now stands, 
 had a series of lofty columns supporting the 
 roof, and a balcony forming a kind of open 
 recess. In this balcony within full view of 
 the street Washington took the oath of office 
 as first President of the United States. 
 
 Chancellor Livingston administered the oath 
 of office, and Washington stooping kissed the 
 open Bible which he held in his hand. "This 
 was the man," says Thomas W. Higginson, 
 "whose generalship, whose patience, whose self- 
 denial, had achieved and then preserved the 
 liberties of the nation; the man who, greater 
 than Cgesar, had held a kingly crown within 
 reach, and had refused it." 
 
 After repeating the oath of office and kiss- 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 131 
 
 ing the Bible reverently, Washington added 
 in a low, cleai voice which yet carried to the 
 first ranks of the throng: 
 
 "I swear — so help me God!" 
 
 Then the Chancellor stepped forward, 
 waved his hand, and exclaimed : 
 
 "Long live George Washington, President 
 of the United States !" 
 
 At this moment a flag was run up to the 
 tower, and at the signal every bell in the city 
 rang; while the guns at the Battery fired a 
 presidential salute. The new nation was 
 born indeed, now that it had a responsible 
 head. 
 
 After delivering his inaugural address to 
 Congress, he proceeded with the whole assem- 
 blage to St. Paul's Church, where prayers 
 were read for the safety and success of the 
 new .Q-overnment. 
 
 All that day the city continued to rejoice, 
 and at night there were brilliant illuminations 
 and fireworks. But in the privacy of his own 
 room, Washington the man pondered over the 
 outlook with anxious brow. The praise and 
 festivities only made him realize his vast re- 
 sponsibilities. 
 
132 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 "I greatly fear," he writes, "that my coun- 
 trymen will expect too much from me." 
 
 His "fear," however, was not of the craven 
 kind that deserts a duty. With him it was a 
 trum])et call to battle. 
 
 The position to which he was elected did in- 
 deed bristle with difficulties. There was a 
 huge debt on behalf of the army to be paid 
 off; alliances to be perfected with other coun- 
 tries; the frontiers to be established; and the 
 complete organization of government to be 
 effected. 
 
 "I walk, as it were, on untrodden ground," 
 he writes to a friend. "So many untoward 
 circumstances may intervene, that I shall feel 
 an insuperable diffidence in my own abilities. 
 I stand in need of the aid of every friend to 
 myself, of every lover of good government." 
 
 At the outset he had but four Departments 
 — State, Treasury, War, and Law. The first 
 dealt, as it deals to-day, with foreign affairs; 
 the second with money matters; the third with 
 military affairs ; and the fourth with the law of 
 the land. John Adams had been elected Vice 
 President; and Washington had beside him 
 other advisers such as John Jay, Alexander 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 133 
 
 Hamilton, James Madison, General Knox, 
 and Thomas Jefferson. Jefferson was made 
 Secretary of State, and Hamilton, Secretary 
 of the Treasury. 
 
 These two appointments were most inter- 
 estinsT, as the men themselves were intense 
 political rivals, Jefferson being an advocate of 
 the government by separate states, or "states' 
 rights," and Hamilton of a strong central or 
 "federal" government. From their opinions 
 the first two great political parties were born 
 — the Federalists and the Anti-Federalists. 
 
 Washington, while a Federalist, did not 
 allow party considerations to influence him, as 
 is shown by his appointing these two men to 
 the most important positions in his cabinet. 
 
 Soon after his taking office, Mrs. Washing- 
 ton joined her husband in New York; and it 
 is pleasant to note that many honors were 
 shown her also, as her carriage was driven 
 northward. The same barge conveyed her on 
 the last stage of the journey, as had brought 
 the President-elect, and she was given a 
 presidential salute by the Battery cannons. 
 
 She and the President soon inaugurated a 
 series of weekly receptions, held every Friday, 
 
134 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 "to which the families of all persons of re- 
 spectability" (as Irving says) "native or for- 
 eign, had access, without special invitation; 
 and at which the President was always pres- 
 ent." 
 
 His first official residence was at the junc- 
 tion of Pearl and Cherry streets, Franklin 
 Square. At the end of about a year he re- 
 moved to a mansion on the west side of Broad- 
 way, near Rector Street. Both these build- 
 ings have long since passed away before the 
 march of improvement. The only down-town 
 buildings which remain to us from that historic 
 time are Fraunces' Tavern, where he bade his 
 troops farewell, and the old churches. Trinity 
 and St. Paul's. In the latter Washington's 
 pew is still pointed out. 
 
 One of the little annoyances which threat- 
 ened Washington's peace of mind at this time, 
 was the desire on the part of some people to 
 give him a high-sounding title, such as "His 
 Highness, the President." He felt that such 
 titles savored of royalty. "A grand name is 
 of no value," he said, "if the man who bears it 
 is not worthy or noble, or one who tries so to 
 live and act that the title shall really be suited 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 135 
 
 to him." He was pleased, therefore, when it 
 was officially decided to address him simply as 
 "the President of the United States," or "Mr. 
 President" — and these designations have re- 
 mained unchanged from that day to this. 
 
 Of all the turmoils and troubles of that first 
 presidential term there is not room here to 
 speak. There were plenty of them both with- 
 out and within. The whole world looked 
 critically at this new experiment in govern- 
 ment, and most of the old-world monarchies 
 with distrust. For people to elect their own 
 ruler and manage their own destinies was al- 
 most an unheard-of thing. The monarchies 
 would all have breathed easier, if the new re- 
 public had failed after a few months' trial. 
 
 But it did not fail, thanks to the steady hand 
 of Washington. And presently another coun- 
 try, inspired by our example, tried to set up a 
 republic. Poor, downtrodden France began 
 a revolution which over-turned its government, 
 slew its rulers, and was not to end until seas of 
 blood had been shed. Lafayette had gone 
 back to France and was one of the prime- 
 movers of this revolution in its opening 
 months ; but he did not countenance the blood- 
 
136 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 shed of its darker days. In fact, he came near 
 losing his own life at the hands of the fickle 
 mob. As this revolution continued it became 
 a serious menace and embarrassment to Amer- 
 ica, as we shall see. 
 
 Meanwhile, Washington was not without 
 his critics at home. For want of better things 
 to criticize, they disparaged his official recep- 
 tions and JMrs. Washington's "queenly draw- 
 ing rooms." They said that the President 
 was formal and distant, and that there was too 
 much pomp and display. Others hinted that 
 the presidency was only a stepping-stone to a 
 monarchy, and that the wool was being pulled 
 over the eyes of the people. 
 
 Such foolish slurs as this were only the least 
 of Washington's troubles; such big national 
 questions as the public debt, the establishment 
 of a national bank, and the quelling of Indian 
 disturbances, w^ere continually demanding at- 
 tention. 
 
 In the midst of all this pressure of public 
 business, Washington's term of office expired. 
 He had been elected — as all succeeding chief 
 executives have been elected under the Consti- 
 tution — for a period of four years. Even 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 137 
 
 those who did not agree with him and had cast 
 slurs at him behind his back did not think that 
 it was wise to make a change. So he was 
 again elected President — without one dissent- 
 ing vote being cast against him ! 
 
 While he expressed himself as gratified by 
 this vote of confidence, it only caused him to 
 redouble his efforts. But privately he viewed 
 the next four years with misgiving; and he be- 
 gan to yearn more and more for the peaceful 
 life of Mount Vernon. If those who accused 
 him of wanting to be king could only have seen 
 his private letters at this time, they would have 
 realized how sadly they misjudged him. 
 
 One little circumstance shows how jealous 
 his critics were. Just after his reelection and 
 before he had again taken the oath of office, 
 his birthday came around. Many of the mem- 
 bers of Congress, then in session, wished to 
 pay their respects to him, and a motion was 
 made to adjourn for half an hour, for that 
 purpose. But it met with opposition as being 
 a species of homage to Washington; it was 
 setting up a popular idol that was dangerous 
 to liberty! 
 
 If these petty politicians had been able to 
 
138 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 look ahead for a very few years, and see not 
 merely a half -hour but a wliole day set aside 
 each year for Washington; if they had been 
 able to vision the magnificent new capital city 
 which was to bear his name, or even the im- 
 posing shaft of stone over five hundred feet 
 high pointing its impressive finger toward 
 heaven — might they not have felt a little 
 "small" for having begrudged half an hour to 
 Washington while he was yet alive? 
 
 Just about the time that Washington en- 
 tered upon his second term, in 1793. events in 
 France began to happen thick and fast. The 
 king and queen were executed. Lafayette 
 and some of the moderate faction had to flee 
 for their own lives. The Reign of Terror — as 
 the darkest days of the revolution were called 
 — had begun. And, as if the unliappy coun- 
 try had hot misery enough, war was declared 
 upon England. 
 
 JMany in America, their hearts warm for 
 France, our own late ally, were for joining 
 in this war. But cooler counsel prevailed. 
 Washington at once saw that it would be little 
 less than suicidal for our country to be em- 
 broiled. We were too young and weak. 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 139 
 
 "It behooves the government of this coun- 
 try," said he, "to use every means in its power 
 to prevent the citizens thereof from embroil- 
 ing us with either of those powers, by endeav- 
 oring to maintain a strict neutrahty." 
 
 This was both common-sense and prudence. 
 Further, it was pointed out by Hamilton and 
 others that the France of that moment was 
 little better than an anarchy, its leaders' hands 
 stained with blood, and the guillotine even 
 then taking its daily toll of innocent victims. 
 
 But public opinion is a curious thing some- 
 times ; and Washington was violently criticized 
 for his "ingratitude" to France, and even ac- 
 cused of subserviency to England. 
 
 Matters came to a climax when France sent 
 over a minister, Genet, to represent her in 
 America. Instead of landing in New York 
 or Philadelphia, Genet chose to land at 
 Charleston, South Carolina. Before calling 
 upon Washington and presenting his creden- 
 tials, he enlisted volunteers for his ships of 
 war, or privateers, as they were called ; and he 
 made a sort of royal progress northward, stir- 
 ring up a lot of enthusiasm as he came for 
 
140 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 "France our ally." People flocked to the 
 support of France, and openly reviled Wash- 
 ington for standing aloof. 
 
 Despite this discourtesy on Genet's part, 
 Washington received him courteously, when 
 he did make his presence known; and while 
 expressing every sympathy for France, he 
 pointed out to the French delegate the unwis- 
 dom of his present conduct. 
 
 Genet, however, did not take the hint. He 
 relied upon the people's approval, as shown 
 him by his tour northward, and went ahead 
 with fitting up privateers in our ports, desj^ite 
 the President's proclamation of neutrality. 
 When one of these illegal vessels was seized, 
 he even flew into a rage and called upon Jef- 
 ferson, the Secretary of State, breathing 
 vengeance. He ended by declaring that if the 
 President continued to thwart him, he would 
 appear before Congress! 
 
 Jefferson heard him patiently, and said that 
 such a request could not be carried before 
 them, nor would they take any notice of it. 
 
 "But is not your Congress the sovereign 
 power?" asked Genet in surprise. 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 141 
 
 "No," replied Jefferson, "they are sovereign 
 only in making laws; the executive is the sov- 
 ereign in executing them." 
 
 "But, at least," cried Genet, "Congress is 
 bound to see that the treaties are observed." 
 
 "No," said Jefferson, "that is the Presi- 
 dent's task." 
 
 "But if he decides against the treaty," de- 
 manded Genet, "to whom is a nation to ap- 
 peal?" 
 
 "The Constitution has made the President 
 the last appeal," responded Jefferson. 
 
 Genet shrugged his shoulders and had the 
 effrontery to remark: "I would not compliment 
 Mr. Jefferson on such a Constitution!" 
 
 This foreigner had taken an attitude of 
 open defiance against our President, gaining 
 courage because of the popular support he had 
 received. Newspapers of the day took it up, 
 and some scurrilous articles and pictures were 
 printed against Washington. 
 
 Nothing swerved him from his policy of 
 strict neutrality. "I have consolation within," 
 said he, "that no earthly effort can deprive me 
 of, and that is, that neither ambitious nor in- 
 terested motives have influenced my conduct." 
 
142 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 Genet continued to be a thorn in his side for 
 some time to come, and narrowly escaped in- 
 volving America in war with both France and 
 England. He was finally recalled at this 
 countrj^'s request, and Washington and his 
 Cabinet, as well as every far-seeing citizen, 
 breathed more freely. 
 
 It is pleasant to note in this connection that 
 when the Reign of Terror finally came to an 
 end in France, and a more stable govermnent 
 was set up, their own ministers were among 
 the first to recognize the wisdom of our course, 
 and to welcome our next minister to them, 
 James Monroe, with lively cordiality. 
 
 Another perplexing issue in the closing half 
 of Washington's second term was the ratifica- 
 tion of a proper treaty with England. John 
 Jay had been sent over as a special envoy to 
 this end, and had finally cleared up all the ex- 
 isting disputes between the two countries, in 
 this new treaty. It was far from perfect, he 
 himself admitted when he forwarded it to 
 Washington; but it was "the best that could 
 be procured." 
 
 Washington himself saw its weak points, 
 but felt that any document in the present crisis 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 143 
 
 was better than none, and so sent it on to the 
 Senate. That body ratified the treaty with 
 the exception of one article. When the treaty 
 was finally given out, the opposition press and 
 party raised a great hue-and-cry about it. In 
 New York a copy was burned before the 
 governor's house. In Philadelphia it was sus- 
 pended on a pole, carried about the streets, 
 and finally burnt in front of the British 
 minister's house, amid shouts and cheers. In 
 Boston a public meeting was held, and an ad- 
 dress sent to Washington. His reply is worth 
 noting: 
 
 "In every act of my administration I have 
 sought the happiness of my fellow-citizens. 
 My system for the attainment of this object 
 has uniformly been to overlook all personal, 
 local, and partial considerations; to contem- 
 plate the United States as one great whole/' 
 
 The italics are our own. They show the 
 broad vision of Washington in the very first 
 years of our nation's history — when state was 
 still jealous of state, and section of section. 
 He anticipated the immortal words of Web- 
 ster: "Liberty and Union, one and inseparable, 
 now and forever!" 
 
144 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 As the time for a third presidential election 
 approached, Washington's friends besought 
 him to stand again for office. But this time 
 he was adamant. He felt that two terms of 
 office were enough, for any one citizen, and he 
 thus established a precedent that has not since 
 been overturned. Furthermore, he felt him- 
 self growing old. He wrote to his old com- 
 panion-in-arms, General Knox: "To the wea- 
 ried traveler who sees a resting-i^lace, and is 
 bending his body to lean thereon, I now com- 
 pare myself." 
 
 John Adams, who had been his Vice Presi- 
 dent, was chosen to succeed him; Thomas 
 Jefferson, his Secretary of State, Vice Presi- 
 dent. Washington was well content; and 
 after giving his memorable Farewell Address 
 and attending the new inauguration ceremo- 
 nies, he turned his steps once more toward 
 home and private life. 
 
XV 
 
 AT HOME AGAIN 
 
 On his way back to Mount Vernon Wash- 
 ington and his little party received many flat- 
 tering attentions, which he strove to avoid. 
 He was honestly tired of the round of public 
 festivities and honors. He regarded himself 
 now as only a private citizen returning to his 
 own home. 
 
 When he reached there he found plenty to 
 do in the farm life that was so congenial to him. 
 During his last absence of eight years the place 
 had run down sadly. 
 
 "I find myself in the situation of a new be- 
 ginner," he saj^s. "Almost everything re- 
 quires repairs. I am surrounded by joiners, 
 masons, and painters, and such is my anxiety 
 to be out of their hands, that I have scarcely a 
 room to put a friend into, or to sit in myself, 
 
 145 
 
146 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 without the music of hammers or smell of 
 paint." 
 
 He writes to another friend: "To make and 
 sell a little flour, to repair houses going fast to 
 ruin, to build one for my papers of a public 
 nature, and to amuse myself in agricultural 
 pursuits, will be employment enough for my 
 few remaining years." 
 
 So he mended and built and farmed, and as 
 he worked the old peace and quiet v/liich he 
 had courted years before came back to him. 
 At times the shock of war and the pressure of 
 official life must have seemed to him like a 
 dream, and only Washington the farmer, the 
 real man. But reminders of his past life con- 
 stantly cropped up in the shape of visitors. 
 The hospitable doors of Mount Vernon con- 
 stantly swung open, and hardly a day went by 
 without some caller. After his daily horse- 
 back ride around the plantation and active 
 oversight of its details, he had barely time to 
 dress for dinner — "at which," he writes, "I 
 rarely miss seeing strange faces, come, as 
 they say, out of respect to me. Pray would 
 not the word curiosity answer as well?" 
 
 He mentions whimsically, in this same letter, 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 147 
 
 a round of duties w^hich begin at sun-up and 
 bring him to candle-light; "previous to which, 
 if not prevented by company, I resolve that I 
 will retire to my writing table and acknowl- 
 edge the letters I have received. But when 
 the lights are brought I feel tired and disin- 
 clined to engage in this work, conceiving that 
 the next night will do as well. The next night 
 comes, and with it the same causes for post- 
 ponement — and so on. 
 
 "Having given you the history of a day, it 
 will serve for a year, and I am persuaded you 
 will not require a second edition of it. But 
 it may strike you that in this detail no mention 
 is made of any portion of time allotted for 
 reading. The remark would be just, for I 
 have not looked into a book since I came 
 home; nor shall I be able to do it until I have 
 discharged my workmen; probably not before 
 the nig^hts grow longer, when possibly I may 
 be looking in Doomsday Book." 
 
 In his solitary rides around Mount Vernon, 
 he could not help but think of the many 
 changes which had come upon it, since first he 
 went there as a young man — ^the loss of his 
 brother, and later of his stepson and daughter. 
 
148 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 whom he had come to love as his own. Both 
 of the Custis children had died young. Then 
 his old friend, Lord Fairfax, had passed away, 
 an ardent Tory to the last. It was said that 
 the shock of Cornwallis's surrender was too 
 much for him, for he was quite an old man. 
 
 "Put me to hed, Joe," he said to his old 
 colored servant. "I guess I have lived too 
 long." 
 
 Yet his pride and affection for George 
 Washington never ceased, and Washington 
 on his part never wavered in his regard for the 
 old nobleman or the younger Fairfax with 
 whom he had gone surveying nearly half a 
 century before. Now the Fairfax home, Bel- 
 voir, was in ashes. 
 
 In a letter to INIrs. Fairfax, in England, he 
 writes: "It is a matter of sore regret when I 
 cast my eyes toward Belvoir, which I often do, 
 to reflect that the former inhabitants of it, 
 with whom we lived in such harmony and 
 friendship, no longer reside there, and the ruins 
 only can be viewed as the mementoes of former 
 pleasures." 
 
 But Washington was not allowed to give 
 way to moodiness, even if he had been so dis- 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 149 
 
 posed. Mrs. Washington's two grandchil- 
 dren, Nelly and George Custis made their 
 home at Mount Vernon. They were now 
 grown and therefore interested in the social 
 life of the neighborhood. The halls soon re- 
 sounded with music, laughter, and the tripping 
 of the stately minuet. 
 
 Nelly Custis was a lovely and attractive 
 girl whose flash of wit and saucy repartee 
 were a constant delight to the General. 
 Frequently he would forget his dignity and 
 reserve, and indulge in a hearty laugh. But 
 her love affairs gave him no little concern, and 
 we find him writing pages of sound advice to 
 her on the subject, on one of his short visits 
 away from home. 
 
 The young lady herself often became 
 wearied with her callers, and sought to escape 
 them by lonely rambles through the woods. 
 Her grandmother thought this unsafe, and for- 
 bade her to wander around thus alone. But, 
 one evening, she was again missing, and when 
 she finally reached home she found the General 
 walking up and down the drawing room with 
 his hands behind his back; while her grand- 
 mother was seated in her great armchair. 
 
150 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 Mrs. Washington read her a sharp lecture, as 
 the young culprit herself confessed in later 
 years. She knew she had done wrong, so es- 
 sayed no excuse; and when there was a slight 
 pause she left the room somewhat crestfallen. 
 But just as she was shutting the door she over- 
 heard Washington in a low voice interceding 
 in her behalf. 
 
 "My dear, I would say no more — perhaps 
 she was not alone." 
 
 Nelly turned in her tracks and reentered 
 the room. 
 
 "Sir," she said, "j^ou brought me up to speak 
 the truth, and when I told grandmamma I 
 was alone, I hope you believed I was alone/* 
 
 Washington made one of his courtliest bows. 
 "My child, I beg your pardon," he said. 
 
 The quiet pleasures of home life, however, 
 were again rudely disturbed by political events. 
 Affairs with France were once more approach- 
 ing a crisis. 
 
 One of the most unpopular acts of Wash- 
 ington's administration, we remember, was 
 his stand against France in her war with Eng- 
 land. This move had cost him a great deal of 
 popularity, as the rank and file of the people 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 151 
 
 felt very justly that America owed France 
 a huge debt. 
 
 The Fren(ih were shrewd enough to see that 
 ^Washington's stand had been unpopular. 
 They reasoned that the American people 
 would side with them against their govern- 
 ment, and even start another Revolution. So 
 early in President Adams's administration they 
 began to make trouble. They made demands 
 upon America which were like thinly-veiled 
 insults. They seemed to look upon this coun- 
 try as a sort of vassal of France, and were 
 unceasing in their strictures. 
 
 The situation grew so intolerable that 
 Adams convened a special session of Con- 
 gress, and then appointed three envoys to go 
 to France and draw up a treaty that would be 
 satisfactory to both sides. The envoys very 
 soon found out that the Directory, as the 
 French governing head was then called, cared 
 not a whit about America's friendship, or 
 trade, or their mutual interests. All they 
 wanted was money. In other words, peace 
 with France could be secured only by the pay- 
 ing of tribute by us. 
 
 When our envoys tried to bring up the ques- 
 
152 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 tion of a treaty, their secret agent calmly said: 
 "Gentlemen, you mistake the point. You say 
 nothing of the money you are to give — you 
 make no offer of money — on that point you are 
 not explicit." 
 
 "We are explicit enough," retorted one of 
 the envoys sternly. "We will not give you 
 one farthing. And before coming here we 
 should have thought such an offer as you now 
 propose would have been regarded as a mortal 
 insult." 
 
 The envoys returned home, without making 
 the slightest progress with their mission. 
 When the news as to their treatment spread, 
 public indignation ran high. People began 
 to see the wisdom of Washington's fonner 
 stand, and they turned to him instinctively, 
 as the one man who could help them in this 
 crisis. For war with France now seemed in- 
 evitable. 
 
 "You ought to be aware," Hamilton wrote 
 to him at this juncture, "that in the event of 
 an open rupture with France, the public voice 
 will again call you to command the armies of 
 your country; and though your friends will 
 deplore an occasion which would tear you from 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 153 
 
 that repose to which you have so good a right, 
 yet it is the opinion of all with whom I con- 
 verse, that you will be compelled to make the 
 sacrifice." 
 
 President Adams was of the same mind. 
 "We must have your name, if you will in any 
 case permit us to use it. There will be more 
 efficacy in it, than in many an army." 
 
 And McHenry, the Secretary of War, 
 wrote: "You see how the storm thickens, and 
 that our vessel will soon require its ancient 
 pilot." 
 
 Washington was sorely troubled by these 
 overtures and their cause, but never in his long 
 life had he shirked a plain duty. 
 
 "I see as you do that the clouds are gather- 
 ing and that a storm may ensue," he answered 
 McHenry ; "and I find, too, from a variety of 
 hints, that my quiet, under these circumstances, 
 does not promise to be of long continuance. 
 As my whole life has been dedicated to my 
 country in one shape or another, for the poor 
 remains of it, it is not an object to contend for 
 peace and quiet, when all that is valuable is 
 at stake, further than to be satisfied that such 
 sacrifice is acceptable to my country." 
 
154 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 Before this letter reached Philadelphia the 
 President had appointed him commander-in- 
 chief of the new army, and the Senate had 
 unanimously confirmed the choice. President 
 Adams voiced the general feeling when he 
 said: 
 
 "If the General should decline the appoint- 
 ment, all the world will he silent and respect- 
 fully assent. If he should accept it, all the 
 world, except the enemies of this country, 
 will rejoice." 
 
 Washingion placed his own feelings in the 
 background, and accepted the post. He at 
 once began an active correspondence leading 
 up to the reorganization of the army. In 
 November, 1798, he left home for Philadel- 
 phia, to meet the Secretary of War, and some 
 of his new staff of officers. He did not re- 
 main long in the capital, but soon returned to 
 Mount Vernon bringing back a mass of official 
 papers, such as requests for appointments. 
 He had stipulated that he was not to be called 
 personally into the field until actual operations 
 should commence. 
 
 About this time he received a warm letter 
 from his old friend Lafayette, who had been 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 155 
 
 an exile and a prisoner during the Reign of 
 Terror, more than once in danger of his hfe. 
 Lafayette wrote that he was persuaded, the 
 French Directory did not desire war with the 
 United States; but that Washington was the 
 one man to bring about a reconcihation be- 
 tween the two countries. 
 
 "Beheve me, my dear friend," answered 
 Washington, "that no man can deprecate an 
 affair of this sort more than I do. If France 
 is sincere, I will pledge that my people will 
 meet them heart and hand." 
 
 France did, in fact, make roundabout over- 
 tures of peace — her attitude being rapidly 
 changed by reports of warlike operations in 
 America. Washington, however, went calmly 
 on with his preparations. He was peacefully 
 disposed, but he was a living example of the 
 modem Boy Scout mptto, "Be Prepared." 
 Roosevelt has put it still more tersely with 
 his: "Speak softly, but carry a big stick." 
 
 President Adams sent three new envoys to 
 France. General Washington made appoint- 
 ments for his army. It was for France to 
 choose peace or war. Fortunately and wisely 
 she chose the olive branch. 
 
156 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 The old soldier down at Mount Vernon was 
 well pleased. lie did not desire war, but he 
 had said more than once that "the surest 
 guarantee of peace was a well-equijDped army." 
 He did not mean by this, a large army, but 
 one that was efficient, and always ready. The 
 levying and drilling of raw troops was out-of- 
 date. Not only was it expensive and slow, 
 but the enemy was likely to strike before an 
 army could be licked into shape. 
 
 This, by the way, was shown very forcibly 
 in the War of 1812, some years after Wash- 
 ington's death, when a few regiments of trained 
 British troops easily defeated a mob of hasty 
 recruits and marched with fire and sword into 
 our capital itself. 
 
 Not long after the affair with France we 
 find Washington writing a letter to Hamilton 
 heartily approving a plan for a military 
 academy. 
 
 "The establishment of such an institution 
 is of primary importance. I have omitted no 
 opportunity of recommending it in my public 
 speeches and otherwise. I sincerely hope that 
 the subject will meet with due attention." 
 
 This last letter that he was ever to address 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 157 
 
 to his old aide had its share in bringing about 
 the foundation of the Mihtary Academy at 
 West Point, now recognized as one of the 
 finest training schools for officers, in the world. 
 
 Meanwhile, thinking and planning always 
 for his country, Washington awaited the call, 
 to serve wherever the country should require. 
 He had twice filled the highest post. He was 
 now ready to take a subordinate place, with 
 his men in the field. 
 
 At last the call came. But it was a call 
 from another source — that last dread summons 
 to which we must all one da57- respond — and 
 the old soldier faced it unflinchingly, with the 
 calm response, 
 
 "I am ready!" 
 
XVI 
 
 THE PASSING OF WASHINGTON 
 
 Winter had set in again at Blount Vernon 
 — the last month of the year 1799 — but Wash- 
 ington still continued his daily rides around 
 the farm, "visiting the out-posts," as he jest- 
 ingly said in military speech. 
 
 Although Washington was now sixty-seven 
 years old he still seemed in the full vigor of 
 health. His simple, regular life coupled with 
 his years of outdoor exercise had left him ro- 
 bust and erect, a fine picture of manhood. A 
 nephew who visited him just at this time says: 
 
 "When I parted from him he stood on the 
 steps of the front door. It was a bright frosty 
 morning; he had taken his usual ride, and the 
 clear, healthy flush on his cheek and his 
 sprightly manner brought the remark that we 
 had never seen the General look so well. I 
 have sometimes thought him decidedly the 
 
 158 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 159 
 
 handsomest man I ever saw; and when in a 
 hvely mood, so full of pleasantry, so agreeable 
 to all with whom he associated, that I could 
 hardly realize he was the same Washington 
 whose dignity awed all who approached him." 
 
 All his farming instincts had returned to 
 kim during the last few months, and he had 
 cfccupied his spare moments in preparing a 
 sort of crop calendar, showing a rotation of 
 planting through his various fields so as to 
 rest the soil and produce the greatest yield. 
 This calendar comprised thirty closely-written 
 pages, and was accompanied by a letter to his 
 steward. It showed his love of order in his 
 family affairs, as well as his mental vigor and 
 foresight. 
 
 "My greatest anxiety," he said, "is to have 
 all that concerns me in such a clear and dis- 
 tinct form, that no reproach may attach itself 
 to me after I am gone." 
 
 The morning of the 12th of December was 
 overcast. A chill wind began to blow, and 
 the sky became threatening. The old veteran 
 of Valley Forge and of the Indian campaigns 
 of long before, however, was not used to stay- 
 ing indoors on account of the weather. 
 
160 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 Bundling himself in his great coat he mounted 
 his horse for his daily round of inspection. 
 
 For upwards of five hours he was on the 
 move inspecting and planning; and meanwhile 
 a spiteful flurry of snow and sleet began to 
 fall. When he finally reached home his coat 
 and hat were covered with snow. His secre- 
 tary met him at the door. 
 
 "I fear you got wet, sir," he observed. 
 
 "No, my gi'cat coat kept me dry," was the 
 answer. 
 
 Washington hung this up, but proceeded 
 to the dinner table without changing any of 
 his other garments. 
 
 That night three inches of snow fell and the 
 next morning he did not take his daily ride. 
 He complained of a slight sore throat. But 
 in the afternoon the weather had cleared up, 
 and he walked out on the grounds a little way 
 to mark some trees which needed cutting down. 
 
 On retiring that evening his hoarseness had 
 increased, and he was advised to take some 
 remedy for it. 
 
 "No," replied he; "you know I never take 
 anything for a cold. Let it go as it came." 
 
 The next morning, however, his throat was 
 
 i 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 161 
 
 so swollen that he could hardly breathe. The 
 family physician was hastily summoned; then 
 two others; but their united efforts gave the 
 patient only temporary relief. It was an 
 acute attack of laiyngitis, or "quinsy sore 
 throat." 
 
 Washington recognized at once that his 
 hours were numbered. He called his wife 
 to his bedside, gave her his final requests, and 
 told her where she would find his will. His 
 secretary tried to reassure him, saying he 
 hoped the end was not so near. 
 
 "Ah, but it is," said the sufferer smiling 
 in spite of the pain; "but it is a debt which we 
 must all pay, and so I look to the event with 
 resignation." 
 
 During the afternoon he had such difficulty 
 in breathing, that they had to change his posi- 
 tion in bed frequently. 
 
 "I am afraid I fatigue you too much," he 
 would say apologetically. The perfect cour- 
 tesy which he had shown all through life did 
 not desert him here when he was fighting for 
 his last breath. 
 
 After one of these struggles he remarked 
 
162 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 to his old friend, Dr Craik; "Doctor, I die 
 hard, but I am not afraid to go." 
 
 The doctor pressed his hand in silence and 
 then withdrew to the fireside, trying vainly 
 to hide his grief. 
 
 His personal servant, Christopher, had been 
 standing by his bedside helping as best he 
 might, all day long. Washington noticed it, 
 and kindly remarked: 
 
 *'Sit down and rest yourself awhile, my 
 friend." 
 
 A little later he managed to say: "I feel I 
 am going. I thank you for your attentions, 
 but I pray you to take no more trouble about 
 me." Still his thought was for the others 
 rather than himself. 
 
 That evening he made a final attempt to 
 speak. It was to give a few simple instruc- 
 tions regarding his burial. His secretary, 
 Lear, bowed assent, for his own emotions pre- 
 vented him from uttering a word. 
 
 "Do you understand me?" asked Washing- 
 ton looking at him. 
 
 "Yes," answered Lear. 
 
 "'Tis well!" said he. 
 
 4 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 163 
 
 These were the last words of Washington. 
 They might fittingly be the summing-up of 
 his w^hole life. 
 
 Shortly after he passed away without a 
 struggle or a sigh. He simply fell asleep. 
 
 Mrs. Washington, who was seated at the foot 
 of the bed, asked with a firm voice, "Is he 
 
 ■3" 
 
 gone f 
 
 A gesture of the hand from one of the others 
 assured her that the great soul had fled. She 
 bowed her head. 
 
 " 'Tis well!" she answered, using the same 
 words that her husband had breathed out. 
 "All is now ov^r. I shall soon follow him." 
 
 It was the evening of December 14, 1799. 
 Four days later the funeral services were held, 
 and following his wishes they were simple and 
 free from display. A small troop of soldiers 
 accompanied the casket from the home to the 
 family vault, and minute guns were fired. \ 
 The General's horse, with his saddle and ' 
 pistols, led by two grooms, preceded the body 
 of his dead master. The minister of the church 
 at Alexandria, "vv^here Washington had been 
 a member for so many years, read the burial 
 service of the Episcopal faith ; and the Masonic 
 
164 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 lodge assisted in consigning his remains to 
 their last resting place. 
 
 Such was the funeral of Washington, quiet 
 and modest as he had wished it; and held 
 entirely within the limits of his beloved Mount 
 Vernon, the home to which he had looked for- 
 ward as a haven in his old age — now to become 
 a visible symbol of his presence for all tim,e 
 to come. 
 
 When the news went out to the world, 
 "Washington is dead," a deep sorrow fell 
 upon his countrymen. In hamlets, on farms, 
 in cities, work was suspended, and men 
 gathered in groups sadly talking over the 
 glorious past. 
 
 "He rode this way, when he led his men — 
 don't you remember?" 
 
 "I recollect how fine he looked when he 
 rode through Jersey to his inauguration!" 
 
 "He was the greatest man this nation or 
 any other ever saw!" 
 
 Such were a few of the remarks that might 
 be heard on eveiy side. 
 
 Congress, on receiving the tidings immedi- 
 ately adjourned for the day. The speaker's 
 chair was draped in black, and the members 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 165 
 
 wore mourning for thirty days. A j oint com- 
 mittee was appointed from House and Senate 
 to consider the most suitable manner of doing 
 honor to him who was "first in war, first in 
 peace, first in the hearts of his countrymen." 
 
 Nor were the expressions of grief and re- 
 spect confined to this country. The two great 
 powers which had been arrayed against him 
 hastened to do honor to his memory. The 
 great channel fleet of England, riding at 
 anchor, lowered the flags of every frigate and 
 every other ship of the line to half mast. It 
 was a sincere tribute to a foeman who was 
 more responsible than any other one man for 
 the loss of her American colonies, but who 
 personally England had learned to respect 
 and honor. 
 
 At about the same time. Napoleon Bona- 
 parte, who was emerging as the strong m,an 
 of France, decreed that the standards of his 
 army should be surmounted with crape for a 
 period of ten days. 
 
 Martha Washington survived her husband 
 only three years, when the family vault was 
 reopened and she was placed by his side. 
 Some vears later the two coffins were encased 
 
1166 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 in white marble, and thus they have remained 
 to the view of visitors to Mount Vernon to- 
 day. They had been wonderfully happy and 
 congenial in their home life, "and in their 
 death thej^ were not divided." 
 
 Many years later a grateful nation com- 
 pleted and dedicated to Washington's memory 
 a noble ^haft of stone, five hundred and fifty 
 five feet high, rising above the banks of the 
 Potomac, in the beautiful capital cit}'- which 
 also bears his name. But neither of these 
 tributes was needed to perpetuate his fame. 
 He will always be remembered both for his 
 services to his country, and the fine example 
 he set. Gladstone said of him that he was 
 "the purest figure in history." And Jeffer- 
 son, who differed with him on many questions 
 of state, wrote: 
 
 "His integrity was most pure; his justice 
 the most inflexible I have ever known; no 
 motives of interest or consanguinity, of friend- 
 ship or hatred, being able to bias his decision. 
 He was, indeed, in eveiy sense of the word, 
 a wise, a good, and a great man." 
 
XVII 
 
 WASHINGTON THE MAN 
 
 As we finish tracing Washington's Hfe step 
 by step, we find that it was not, what we would 
 call to-day, ea^citing. He did no one thing 
 so remarkable that it stands out above every- 
 thing else. He did not play the hero, or pose. 
 What he did do were the every-day things 
 of life — but he did them well. 
 
 Washington the man suffered greatly at the 
 hands of his first biographers. They made 
 him out a prig and a saint, and they sounded 
 his virtues so insistently that he quit being a 
 human being at all to thousands of boys 
 and girls of a later generation. Nothing 
 would have grieved him more than to have 
 foreseen such a fate. The story is told of him 
 that as he began to grow famous, the children 
 of the neighborhood began to stand in awe of 
 him. They could not understand how a great 
 
 167 
 
168 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 soldier, who looked so fine as he rode by on 
 his prancing steed, could possibly unbend. 
 They did not know that he had loved children 
 all his life, tliough having none of his own, 
 and that he liked to dance and romp as well 
 as any of them. 
 
 As the story goes, there was a young folks* 
 party at his home — it might have been Hal- 
 lowe'en — and when the fun and noise were 
 at their height, the General rode up, dis- 
 mounted, and entered the room. At once the 
 merriment stopped. The little girls dropped 
 old-fashioned courtesies to him, and the boys 
 stood stiffly at attention. Washington gravely 
 saluted though with twinkling eyes. He 
 pinched some of the girls' cheeks, patted the 
 boys on the back, and tried to indicate that the 
 fun was to go on. But somehow it lagged. 
 So presently he slipped out of the room, and 
 the youngsters forgot their dignity. On went 
 the noise and fun until, awhile later, some of 
 the jolly crowd discovered Washington in 
 another hallway. He had slipped quietly 
 around to enjoy the party unseen, without 
 putting a damper upon it. 
 
 All of which shows that fame has its draw- 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 169 
 
 backs. We know, from many other things 
 told of him, that he often fomid it irksome and 
 liked most of all to live the simple life of a 
 country gentleman. 
 
 The same love of sport that made Wash- 
 ington a leader among his boy companions 
 stayed with him through life. He always 
 liked to have children about him, and in one 
 letter he speaks of having had "a pretty little 
 frisk" with a houseful of children. Naturally 
 quiet and reserved, he unbent most of all when 
 he was with them. His granddaughter, Nellie 
 Custis, led him a merry chase with her lively 
 pranks, and said later that she "made him 
 laugh most heartily" at some of her pranks and 
 capers. 
 
 When he was a boy he shared in all the 
 sports like any other youngster, and it was not 
 strange that he should have been chosen as 
 leader; for he was well-grown, strong, and 
 active. And the other boys very soon found 
 out that he played fair. He was chosen as 
 umpire in disputes because they could depend 
 upon his honesty. Yet if some one had 
 praised him for it he probably would have been 
 greatly surprised. For to him there was no 
 
170 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 other 'way. He did not make of it a virtue, 
 but just plain common sense. 
 
 That he played soldier, and drilled his play- 
 mates in war games was not remarkable, nor 
 was it prophetic of his later career. It is true 
 that Na'poleon also played soldier, and made 
 of himself a great world conqueror when he 
 grew up. But Washington had no such 
 dreams of conquest. He was probably in- 
 spired to play war games by the danger from 
 French and Indians, which then threatened 
 Virginia; also from the fact that his brother 
 Lawrence was going into the real wars. 
 
 Washington was a plodder at school, rather 
 than a brilliant student. Nothing came easy 
 to him, but when he once got it, he remembered 
 it. As he grew up he -was diffident, especially 
 with the girls. One of his girl friends wrote 
 later in life that "she liked George, but did 
 wish that he would talk more." 
 
 As he grew up to manhood he had several 
 little love affairs, one in especial with "a low- 
 land beauty" to whom he even wrote poetry. 
 But she jilted him as did others, who lost 
 patience with him for his bashfulness. One 
 such romance has come down to history. It 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 171 
 
 seems that when he was twenty-four, some mih- 
 tary business caused him to make a journey to 
 Boston. This was twenty years before the 
 Revolution. Both in coming and going he 
 visited in New York, where he met Mary 
 Phihpse, a vivacious young lady of about his 
 own age. A picture of her which has been 
 handed down shows a pretty face framed in 
 bewitching dark curhng hair. The young 
 cavaher was badly smitten; but he had rivals 
 who knew ho^v to say soft nothings better than 
 he. One of them. Colonel Roger Morris, 
 afterwards won the fair Mary. They were 
 married. When the war came on, Morris 
 chose the Tory side. He and his wife were 
 compelled to flee to Canada. As a curious 
 sequel to the tale, his house became Wash- 
 ington's military headquarters in 1776. 
 
 When Washington finally became success- 
 ful in his courting, he was more than repaid 
 for his former ill-success. He found a con- 
 genial mate in Martha Custis, and his home 
 life was remarkably happy. 
 
 There are pleasing glimpses of this home life 
 in his letters, many of which have been pre- 
 served. They make us feel as though we 
 
172 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 were in the very presence of the man, for no 
 one of this time — not even FrankHn or Jef- 
 ferson who were hrilliant letter-writers — ex- 
 celled him in setting down the intimate touches* 
 which breathed his spirit. 
 
 Let us peep in on him as he sits at his desk 
 there at IMount Vernon, still in the early 
 days of married life, writing to his friends of 
 his dail}^ doings. Let us read again stray pas- 
 sages from his daily diary, which show his 
 manner of life even more intimately: 
 
 "Several of the family were taken with the 
 measels. . . . Hauled the Sein and got some 
 fish, but was near being disappointed of my 
 Boat by means of an oyster man who had lain 
 at my landing and plagued me a good deal 
 by his disorderly behavior." 
 
 We read elsewhere that this man was a 
 poacher who wouldn't go away when Wash- 
 ington ordered hun to do so; but instead 
 threatened Washington with a gun. The 
 latter wasted na more words on him, but 
 waded straight out to him, gun and all, and 
 seizing the boat capsized it. He then told the 
 bedraggled fisherman that if he caught him 
 there again he would thrash him soundly. 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 173 
 
 "Mrs. Washington was a good deal better 
 to-day," he continued; "but the oyster man 
 still continuing his disorderly behavior at my 
 landing, 1 was obliged in the most peremptory 
 manner to order him and his company away." 
 
 That the Virginia planter had a temper all 
 his friends and servants knew. He kept a 
 tight rein upon it generally, but it peeved him 
 to find any of his servants slackers with their 
 work. 
 
 "Went to Alexandria and saw my Tobacco 
 ... in very bad order . . . visited my Plan- 
 tation. Severely reprimanded young Ste- 
 phens for his insolence. . . . After Breakfast 
 . . . rode out to my plantation . . . found 
 Stephens hard at work with an ax — very ex- 
 traordinary this! . . . Two negroes sick . . . 
 ordered them to be blooded (i. e. bled). . . . 
 Visited my Plantation and found to my great 
 surprise Stephens constantly at work." 
 
 Stephens had evidently got pretty deeply 
 into his black books, and was trying his best 
 to get out again. But the master seemed to 
 see in his work only an effort to pull the wool 
 over his eyes; for a. little further on we find 
 this entry: "Visited my Plantations before 
 
174 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 sunrise, and forbid Stephens keeping any 
 horses upon my expense." 
 
 Here is an entry of a different sort: "Went 
 to a ball at Alexandria, where Musick and 
 dancing was the chief entertainment. . . . 
 Great plenty of bread and butter, some biscuits 
 with tea and coffee, which the drinkers of could 
 not distinguish from hot water sweetened. . . . 
 I shall therefore distinguish this ball by the 
 stile and title of the Bread and Butter Ball." 
 
 There speaks the lover of good things to 
 eat, and the connoisseur of coffee ! Old diary, 
 we thank you ! 
 
 But the social diversions must give way to 
 work again: "After several efforts to make 
 a plow . . . was feign to give it up. . . . Mrs. 
 Posy and some young woman, whose name 
 was unknown to anybody in this family, dined 
 here." (Evidently Mrs. Posy mmnbled her 
 words when introducing her!) "Spent the 
 greatest part of the day making a new plow 
 of my own invention." (So he did not "give 
 it up" after all; that was not his nature.) 
 "Set my plow to work and found she answered 
 very well." 
 
 "A messenger came to inform me that my 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 175 
 
 Mill was in great danger. . . . Got there my- 
 self just time enough to give her a reprieve 
 ... by wheeling dirt into the place which 
 the water had worked." 
 
 This last item shows that he could and did 
 take off his own coat on occasion, and work 
 with his men. Indeed his notebooks then and 
 in his old age as well showed that he liked 
 nothing so well as to make a plow, wield an 
 ax, or show with his own hands the best 
 method of cradling wheat. **If you want a 
 thing well done, do it yourself," seems to have 
 been his motto. 
 
 Here are some entries written in his agri- 
 cultural notebook, in the closing years of his 
 life, and, let us remember, by a victorious 
 General and beloved President: 
 
 "Harrowed the ground at Muddy Hole, 
 which had been twice ploughed, for Albany 
 pease in broad-cast. . . . Began to sow the re- 
 mainder of the Siberian wheat. . . . Ordered 
 a piece of ground, two acres, to be ploughed 
 at the Ferry ... to be drilled with corn and 
 potatoes between, each ten feet apart, row 
 from row of the same kind. 
 
 "Corn. On rows ten feet one way, and 
 
176 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 eighteen inches thick, single stalks; will yield 
 as much to the Acre in equal ground, as at five 
 feet each way with two stalks in a hill. To 
 that Potatoes, Carrots, and Pease between the 
 drilled Corn, if not exhaustive, . . . are nearly 
 a clear profit. 
 
 "Let the hands at the Mansion House grub 
 well, and perfectly prepare the old clover lot. 
 . . . When I say grub well, I mean that every- 
 thing which is not to remain as trees, should 
 be taken up by the roots . . . for I seriously 
 assure you, that I had rather have one acre 
 cleared in this manner, than four in the com- 
 mon mode. ... It is a great and very dis- 
 agreeable eye-sore to me, as well as a real 
 injury ... to have foul meadows. 
 
 ''You will be particularly attentive to my 
 negi'oes in their sickness; and to order every 
 overseer positively to be so likewise; for I am 
 sorry to observe that the generality of them 
 view these poor crfeatures in scarcely any other 
 light than they do a draught horse or ox . . . 
 instead of comforting and nursing them when 
 they lie on a sick bed. . . . 
 
 "I find by the reports that Sam is, in a 
 manner, always retiu-ned sick. Doll at the 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 177 
 
 Ferry, and several of the spinners, very fre- 
 quently so, for a week at a stretch. And 
 ditcher Charles often laid up with a lameness. 
 I never wish my people to work when they are 
 really sick . . . but if you do not examine 
 into their complaints, they will lay by when 
 no more ails them than all those who stick to 
 their business. . . . My people will lay up 
 a month, at the end of which no visible change 
 in their countenance, nor the loss of an ounce 
 of flesh is discoverable ; and their allowance of 
 provision is going on as if nothing ailed them." 
 
 From all of which it may be seen that the 
 old-time darky had his whims and his miseries 
 like his easy-going descendant of today. 
 
 There can be no denying the fact that Wash- 
 ington had a high temper. Very seldom in 
 his strenuous life did he let it get away from 
 him — but some of those occasions are historic. 
 Nothing roused him more than cowardice on 
 the field of battle. In commenting on Brad- 
 dock's defeat at the hands of the French and 
 Indians, he could hardly find words to express 
 his contempt of the English troops. He 
 called them "cowardly regulars," said their be- 
 havior was "dastardly," and that they "broke 
 
178 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 and ran as sheep before hounds." 
 
 Later on he was just as provoked over the 
 action of American troops. When the Brit- 
 ish fleet landed at New York near Hell-gate 
 on the Sound, and two New England regi- 
 ments lost their nerve and ran away without 
 firing a shot, Washington is said to have 
 "damned them for cowardly rascals," and, 
 drawing his sword to have struck fleeing 
 soldiers with the back of it. So carried away 
 was he with rage, that he paid no attention to 
 the enemy now only a few paces distant, and 
 would probably have been captured himself, 
 had not his aides seized his horse's bridle and 
 forcibly dragged him away. 
 
 At Monmouth an aide states that when the 
 General met a man running away he was 
 "exasperated," and threatened the man that he 
 would have him whipped. And General 
 Scott says that on finding Lee retreating, "he 
 swore like an angel from heaven." Hamilton, 
 who was also on his staff, and between whom 
 and his commander a strong tie of affection 
 existed, admits that his chief's temper some- 
 times got the better of him. Whose, indeed, 
 would not — charged with the task of leading 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 179 
 
 a- half -starved army for weary months? It 
 was clearly an attack of nerves, and proves 
 again that our Washington was only human. 
 
 Gilbert Stuart, the famous painter who has 
 given us the best known portrait of Washing- 
 ton, says that "all his features were indicative 
 of the strongest and most ungovernable pas- 
 sions, and had he been born in the forests, he 
 would have been the fiercest man among the 
 savage tribes." Stuart's daughter relates this 
 anecdote : 
 
 * 'While talking one day with General Lee, 
 my father happened to remark that Wash- 
 ington had a tremendous temper, but held it 
 under wonderful control. General Lee break- 
 fasted with the President and Mrs. Wash- 
 ington a few days afterwards. 
 
 " 'I saw your portrait the other day,' said 
 the General, *but Stuart says you have a 
 tremendous temper.* 
 
 " 'Upon my word,' said Mrs. Washington, 
 coloring, *Mr. Stuart takes a great deal upon 
 himself to make such a remark.* 
 
 " *But stay, my dear lady,* said General 
 Lee, 'he added that the President had it under 
 wonderful control.* 
 
180 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 "With something like a smile, Washington 
 remarked, 'He is right.' " 
 
 We dwell upon these stories of his failings, 
 because we want every boy and girl to-day 
 to see Washington the man, and not Wash- 
 ington the hero. As a boy he was only a boy 
 among others^ — ^getting his lessons by hard 
 grubbing. As a young man he was adventur- 
 ous and hardy — not afraid of a task which 
 sent him for long months at a time into the 
 wilderness. As a man he showed himself a 
 natural-born leader of men. He won the War 
 of Independence, not by his brilliant victories, 
 — for as a matter of cold fact they were few 
 and far between, — but by his ability to hold his 
 army intact despite defeat and hardship. 
 
 When liberty was achieved, he was the one 
 man to whom the whole nation turned for 
 further leadership. The common people be- 
 lieved in him, because he could be trusted to 
 "carry through" without fear or favor. 
 
 He was not born gi-eat. He grew into 
 greatness so slowly and unconsciously that 
 when honors were later thrust upon him, he 
 was confused. To him it meant simply doing 
 the daily task as best he knew how. When 
 
GEORGE WASHINGTON 181 
 
 unanimously chosen iPresident — the first to 
 hold this untried office in an untried nation — 
 he felt a cold chill of fear lest the public con- 
 fidence should be misplaced. But still he 
 never faltered in the new task; that was not 
 George Washington's way. 
 
 It has been often said of him that he was 
 cold and distant. Certain it is that his dignity 
 was a marked trait, and no one felt that 
 liberties could be taken with him. But under- 
 neath the calm exterior was a highly sensitive 
 and warm nature. The man who, when a 
 young frontiersman in Virginia, was so moved 
 by the hardships of the pioneers against the 
 Indians as to exclaim: "I solemnly declare I 
 could offer myself a willing victim to the 
 butchering enemy, provided this would con- 
 tribute to the people's ease!"; who could show 
 a constant affection for and deference to his 
 mother, even when he had become a public 
 man; who could share his soldiers' sufferings 
 at Valley Forge ; who could actually shed tears 
 when he viewed from across the Hudson, a 
 surprise attack upon some of his troops; who 
 could make such young men as Lafayette and 
 Hamilton cling to him as to a father; who 
 
182 FAMOUS AMERICANS 
 
 could embrace his officers in farewell at 
 Fraunces' Tavern, leaving these strong men 
 in tears — surely such a man as this was not 
 naturally "cold and distant!" 
 
 That he was truty great has been shown by 
 each succeeding year since he was laid to rest 
 at Mount Vernon. A century and a quarter 
 have passed by, and as the country itself has 
 grown and expanded from the weakest to the 
 mightiest among nations, so the name of Wash- 
 ington has kept pace with it. Surveyor, 
 Indian fighter, soldier, statesman, farmer, true 
 gentleman, — his name lives not merely in the 
 tall shaft of granite on the Potomac; not 
 merely in the Capital city whose influence is 
 now felt around the world ; not merely in that 
 great and prosperous State on the Pacific 
 Coast which also bears his name. It will live 
 forever as "first in the hearts of his country- 
 men." 
 
 PRINTED IN THE U. S, A. 
 
 H»^4') 89 
 

 •ft,.-** 
 
 
 
 
 ^♦"•^^^ -.^i^r ^-"^-^^^ 
 
 
 
 
 
 V ..• 
 
 ';*v 
 
 ..^^^ 
 
 
^ J 
 
 '^o^