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THE SEVEN AGES OF 
 WASHINGTON 
 
 A BIOGRAPHY 
 
 BY 
 
 OWEN WISTER 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE VIRGINIAN, '*LADY BALTIMORE, 
 *'U, S. GRANT A BIOGRAPHY," ETC., ETC, 
 
 »» 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 
 1907 
 
 All rights reserved 
 

 LiBRAftY of CONGRESS 
 Two Copjes He^eivcG 
 
 NOV 20 190? 
 
 Copy right. EnT.ry 
 CLaYs 4, ' XXc, Nu, 
 
 '<? 
 
 3PY 8. 
 
 Washinr'^niar.3 
 
 Copyright, 1907, 
 By the MACMILLAN COMPANY. 
 
 Set up and electrotyped. Published November, 1907. 
 
 NorbjooU ^rrag 
 
 J. S. Gushing Go. — Berwick & Smith Co. 
 
 Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. 
 
TO 
 
 FROM 
 
 HER SON 
 
PREFACE 
 
 To an invitation from the University of Pennsylvania Preface 
 this book is due. The Washington orator chosen for igoj 
 found himsef at a late hour compelled to renounce his 
 tasky and this honor fell from him upon me. Saving its 
 scheme y little of the speech remains ; English meant for 
 the ear of an audience differs in fibre from English meant 
 for the eye of a reader ; besides thisy the limit of an 
 address shuts out much that belongs to the subject. I 
 had hoped to write this book short enough to be read in 
 one comfortable sitting; such brevity has proved beyond 
 my skill. I have attempted a full-length portrait of 
 Washingtony with enough of his times to see him clearly 
 against ; for thiSy his own writings y so admirably edited 
 by Mr, Worthington Chauncey Ford in fourteen volumes y 
 are the material. My other authorities are noted in a 
 table at the end. Certain anecdotesy not before given 
 to the pub lie y are due to the kindness of friends and to 
 some privately published memoirs. Many things that 
 must have been in his letters to his wife, discreetly de- 
 stroyed y we shall never know. 
 
 Philadelphiay October 20^ igO'J. 
 
 Vll 
 
CONTENTS 
 
I. Ancestry 
 
 II. The Boy 
 
 III. The Young Man 
 
 IV. The Married Man 
 V. The Commander 
 
 VI. The President 
 
 VII, Immortality 
 
 XI 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
List of 
 Illustrations 
 
 Houdon's Statue of Washington, at Richmond, Va. 
 
 SuLGRAVE Manor House. The Ancestral Home of the 
 Washingtons 
 
 Supposed Portrait of Mary Washington 
 
 George Washington. From a portrait by C. W. Peale 
 
 Mount Vernon, Residence of Washington 
 
 Martha Washington. From a painting by Gilbert 
 Stuart 
 
 Washington and Lafayette at Valley Forge 
 
 Portrait of Washington by Savage, i 789-1 790 
 Reproduced by the courtesy of Harvard University 
 
 Washington Monument 
 
 XV 
 
THE SEVEN AGES OF WASHINGTON 
 
 On the 22d of February, 1792, Congress Seven 
 
 was sittinp; in Philadelphia, and to many A^\ 
 
 ^ r ' / Washington 
 
 came the impulse to congratulate the Pres- 
 ident upon this, his sixty-first birthday; 
 therefore a motion was made to adjourn 
 for half an hour, that this civility might be 
 paid. The motion was bitterly opposed, 
 as smacking of idolatry and as leaning tow- 
 ard monarchy. Then it was the eighteenth 
 century, it is the twentieth now; but when 
 the 22d of February comes, the United 
 States of America adjourn for a day to 
 honor the memory of George Washington. 
 At the present time it is odd to recognize 
 that what did come to suffer by the idolatry 
 so much feared by Congress, was not our 
 republic, but the natural, manly, and human 
 character of Washington in the hands of 
 I 
 
Seven his early biographers. What was done, 
 
 ^g^^ °f fQj. instance, to his letters in the generation 
 Washington 
 
 of our grandfathers, we grandsons would 
 
 refuse to believe, were we merely told such a 
 
 story; but to-day we can look at the original 
 
 letters with our own eyes, and see the strange 
 
 tricks that were played with them by their 
 
 first editor. 
 
 Washington wrote: "Our rascally priva- 
 teersmen go on at the old rate;" "rascally" 
 was taken out in the printing as a word 
 indecorous for the father of his country to 
 be seen using. 
 
 In another place: "Such a dearth of 
 spirit pray God I may never witness again," 
 becomes, "Such a dearth of spirit pray God's 
 mercy I may never witness again." 
 
 In still a third (the subject is a contem- 
 plated appropriation) : "One hundred thou- 
 sand dollars will be but a flea-bite," is changed 
 to, "one hundred thousand dollars will be 
 totally inadequate." 
 
 2 
 
By such devices was a frozen image of Seven 
 George Washington held up for Americans Jr\ 
 to admire, rigid with congealed virtue, 
 ungenial, unreal, to whom from our school- 
 days up we have been paying a sincere and 
 respectful regard, but a regard without 
 interest, sympathy, heart — or indeed, be- 
 lief. It thrills a true American to the marrow 
 to learn at last that this far-off figure, this 
 George Washington, this man of patriotic 
 splendor, the captain and savior of our 
 Revolution, the self-sacrificing, devoted Pres- 
 ident, was a man also with a hearty laugh, 
 with a love of the theatre, with a white-hot 
 temper, who when roused could (for ex- 
 ample) declare of Edmund Randolph: "A 
 damneder scoundrel God Almighty never 
 permitted to disgrace humanity." 
 
 The unfreezing of Washington was begun 
 by Irving, but was in that day a venture so 
 new and startling that Irving, gentleman 
 and scholar, went at it gingerly and with 
 
 3 
 
Seven many inferential deprecations. His hand, 
 
 ^g^s of however, first broke the ice, and to-day we 
 
 Washington 
 
 can see the live and human Washington, 
 full length. He does not lose an inch 
 by it, and we gain a progenitor of flesh 
 and blood. 
 
 Between all great men there is one signal 
 family likeness; so much is in them, such 
 volume and variety, that by choosing this 
 and leaving out that, portraits almost con- 
 flicting could be made of the same character, 
 each based wholly upon fact, yet not all the 
 facts, and so a false picture of the man. 
 From Julius Caesar could be drawn a prof- 
 ligate and fashionable idler, rather vain of 
 the verses which it was his desultory pleasure 
 to compose. Out of Napoleon could be 
 made a beneficent law-giver, warmly con- 
 cerned with questions of education. To 
 read the several journals that Washington 
 wrote at Mount Vernon, you would scarce 
 guess that public life engaged a moment of 
 4 
 
his thought, or that he had ever seen a day's Seven 
 
 fiehtine. The hints of greatness in those Jf\ 
 
 ^ ^ & JVashtngton 
 
 pages are a huge energy, and a grasp of 
 detail, a memory and attention for the small- 
 est as well as the largest things, that leave 
 one silent with wonder. But no direct sign 
 of the soldier or statesman is there; the 
 writer is apparently a breeder of horses, 
 dogs, and sheep, a planter of trees and crops, 
 generous to his relations and relations-in- 
 law, with his slaves both humane and strict, 
 most strict in his business duties to others, 
 and in their business duties to him. He is 
 also a constant sportsman, fox-hunter, and 
 host, who is pleased to bid many welcome at 
 his table, but dearly likes chosen friends to 
 come in; and with these he takes a more 
 familiar glass of Madeira. To the matter of 
 wine he gives the same measured, minute 
 attention that he gives to his fields, his 
 horses, his rams, and all else. Twice he 
 writes explicit directions about it, the second 
 
 5 
 
Seven being as follows, in 1794, when his duties as 
 
 ^ge^ of President keep him absent from home: — 
 Washington 
 
 "In a letter from Mrs. Fanny Washington 
 
 . . . she mentions, that since I left Mount 
 Vernon she has given out four dozen and 
 eight bottles of wine ... I am led by it to 
 observe, t^at it is not my intention that it 
 should be given to every one who may 
 incline to make a convenience of the house in 
 travelling, or who may be induced to visit it 
 from motives of curiosity. There are but 
 three descriptions of people to whom I think 
 it ought to be given: first, my particular 
 and intimate acquaintance, in case business 
 should call them there, such for instance as 
 Doctor Craik, adly, some of the most re- 
 spectable foreigners who may, perchance, 
 be in Alexandria or the federal city; and 
 be either brought down, or introduced by 
 letter, from some of my particular acquaint- 
 ance as before mentioned; or thirdly, to 
 persons of some distinction (such as mem- 
 6 
 
bers of Congress, &c.) who may be travelling Seven 
 
 through the country from North to South, or ^f^"^, 
 
 JVashington 
 
 from South to North . . . Unless some cau- 
 tion of this sort governs, I should be run to 
 an expense as improper as it would be con- 
 siderable; — for the duty upon Madeira 
 wine makes it one of the most expensive 
 liquors that is now used, while ^^y stock of 
 it is small, and old wine (of which that is) 
 is not to be had upon any terms: for which 
 reason, and for the limited purposes already 
 mentioned, I had rather you would provide 
 claret, or other wine on which the duty is 
 not so high, than to use my Madeira, unless 
 it be on very extraordinary occasions. I 
 have no objection to any sober, or orderly 
 person's gratifying their curiosity in viewing 
 the buildings, gardens, &:c., about Mt. 
 Vernon; but it is only to such persons as I 
 have described that I ought to be run to any 
 expense on account of these visits of curiosity, 
 beyond common civility and hospitality. 
 
 7 
 
Seven No gentleman who has a proper respect for 
 
 ^S^^ °J i^js own character (except relations and in- 
 
 Washington 
 
 timates) would use the house in my absence 
 for the sake of conveniency. . . ." 
 
 Such orders are given about every item of 
 his domestic and agricultural establishment, 
 and this all through a period when his mind 
 was deep in public matters of a most vexing 
 and delicate kind, both at home and abroad; 
 when he was writing long letters to Hamilton, 
 to Jay, to Adams, to Congress, about our 
 threatened relations with England, and the 
 Pennsylvania Whiskey Rebellion. Nor were 
 these letters dictated — they were in addition 
 to those dictated ; nor yet were they thin or 
 of hasty judgment; they were as thorough as 
 what he writes about his wine; and this 
 radiation of energy and sagacity began v/ith 
 him before he was twenty, and continued 
 during some forty-seven years until his 
 death. Not seldom, in reading Washing- 
 ton's correspondence, one pauses simply to 
 8 
 
dwell upon the marvel of how such power Seven 
 
 for work ever got itself into one human -^^^^ 
 
 ^ Washington 
 
 body. He judged himself well (his judg- 
 ment was seldom wrong about anything) 
 when in early life he wrote Governor Din- 
 widdie : " I have a constitution hardy enough 
 to encounter and undergo the most severe 
 trials, and I flatter myself resolution to face 
 what any man dares." 
 
 With the many documents now come to 
 light and a proper study and use of these, 
 there could be readily made (if but words 
 were painters' brushes and facts were colors) 
 a gallery of portraits, each of Washington, 
 and all faithful likenesses. His schoolboy 
 face might then be seen, and how he looked 
 in adolescence, when he was surveying for 
 Lord Fairfax, and between whiles making 
 love so precocious, continued, and apparently 
 barren of reward. That older face which 
 Stuart has given us, weather-beaten, war- 
 beaten, deeply toned with retrospect, tells 
 
 9 
 
Seven not of those far early Virginia days. And 
 
 •^^^/^ in truth, to sum up a man as he ends, or as 
 
 Washington 
 
 he begins, or at any single hour of his life, 
 is to present but a fragment of him; for he 
 is ceasing to be some things, while he is be- 
 ginning to be other things; and it is all a 
 ceasing, and a beginning, and an overlapping. 
 Who could tell in August what the fruit tree 
 was in May .^ 
 
 In the October of his days, Washington 
 writes from Mt. Vernon: "The more I am 
 acquainted with agricultural affairs, the 
 better I am pleased with them." And in 
 the November of his days: "To make and 
 sell a little flour . . . and to amuse myself 
 in . . . rural pursuits, will constitute my 
 employment ... If also I could now and 
 then meet the friends I esteem, it would fill 
 the measure . . . ." Thus the Autumnal 
 Washington; but when he was only April- 
 old, he wrote: "My feelings are strongly 
 bent to arms." And again: "I heard the 
 10 
 
bullets whistle, and, believe me, there is Seven 
 
 something charming in the sound." In ^^^ ^ 
 
 Washington 
 
 later years, he remarked, "If I said so, it 
 was when I was young." The man himself 
 had forgotten an earlier aspect of himself. 
 Little, then, shall others understand of him 
 who know only Washington the General, 
 or Washington the President. 
 
 Life plants no new seeds in a man, but the 
 sun and the snow of the years both quicken 
 and kill what seeds were in him at his birth, 
 and thus the main trunk of character slowly 
 grows. No more than Rome was the Com- 
 mander-in-Chief of our Revolution built in a 
 day; to stand that strain required beams and 
 rafters of long seasoning, and if ever a char- 
 acter got long seasoning, it was George Wash- 
 ington's. To survey his sixty-seven years, 
 it seems as if so much had never happened 
 to any other man; certainly no American's 
 life has been more crowded with extreme 
 events — action and reflection galloping 
 II 
 
Seven abreast through cities and wildernesses, bat- 
 
 ^^^ ^ ties and councils, dealins; with a motley 
 
 Washington '' 
 
 throng of foreign noblemen, native neigh- 
 bors, wrangling statesmen, starving soldiers, 
 Indian chiefs, and negro slaves. 
 
 "If I said that bullets had a charming 
 sound, it was when I was young." Yes, 
 when he was young; before the pitiful 
 slaughter at Long Island, where he wrung his 
 hands, saying, "Good God, what brave 
 fellows I must this day lose;" and before 
 he had learned to love the sound of the wind 
 in his trees at Mount Vernon — in short be- 
 fore the sun and snow had much beaten upon 
 him, and while the beams and rafters were still 
 unseasoned. Therefore, to draw as near 
 him as we may across Time's wide silence, 
 let our eyes travel back through the battles 
 and councils, the foreign noblemen and 
 starving soldiers, to his beginning. 
 
 12 
 
I. ANCESTRY 
 
I 
 
 When we look among George Washing- Seven 
 
 ton's forefathers — which somewhat late re- r^ , . . 
 
 yyasntngton 
 
 search has made easy, though it has not 
 cleared every point — we see that he was 
 like them, carried on their deeds and natures 
 in himself, was less a surprise and departure 
 in the family type than many a famous man 
 has been; and this because his greatness lay 
 in character. It is when genius steps in to 
 procreation that the bird is of unaccountable 
 feather, as in the case of Shakespeare. But 
 we find Washington plain enough in his 
 English ancestors. He came of good blood, 
 county blood, blood that had fought and 
 flowed for its king, had preached for its 
 king, had been to college, that, in short, 
 knew something of wars and something of 
 books; that was allied with other good blood 
 
 15 
 
Seven of England, not the greatest, nor yet the 
 
 Trf\ least; that bore a coat-of-arms, which, un- 
 
 IVasntngton 
 
 translated from its quaint language, reads 
 thus: Argent, two bars and in chief three 
 mullets Gules. And among those who graced 
 this coat-of-arms we find soldiers, knighted 
 for gallantry in battle, and a preacher, who 
 for sticking to his principles got into much 
 trouble with the Roundheads. 
 
 So there stand the ancestors: some with 
 swords and some in gowns ; behind them, the 
 fields of England with battle smoke and fair 
 towers, and the painted shields of heraldry. 
 
 Such was the boy's ancestral stuff, from 
 such loins did he spring, through an emi- 
 grant great-grandfather known in Virginia as 
 Colonel John Washington, a public man, a 
 man of circumstance. His seed did not fall 
 away; the family held its high position, so 
 that seventy-six years after the emigrant's 
 coming, came his great-grandson George into 
 a world where an established place, a re- 
 i6 
 
spected name, and important friends were his Se-ven 
 
 inheritance at birth. With him, a good en- S\ 
 
 ^ Washington 
 
 vironment took up and fostered a good 
 heredity: the happiest condition that can 
 befall a new-born creature. Once on his 
 legs, and his own master, the boy made 
 himself worthy of his advantages, and coming 
 from something, became more, — unlike much 
 present-day American youth, who, coming 
 from something, are nothing. But let us 
 carefully remember that George Washington's 
 advantages were no disadvantage to him; it 
 is not ill to dwell on this. There is no harm 
 in going from the tow-path to the White 
 House; the point is, what you do when you 
 get there. Spread-eagle eloquence is apt to 
 proclaim somewhat lopsided generalizations 
 on this head, as if obscurity and poverty were 
 virtues in themselves, and good descent and 
 good up-bringing were crimes. There is 
 nothing in all that, save hurtful imbecility; 
 the truth being, that it is not bad to come 
 
 / 17 
 
II 
 
 In 1657 began the American Washingtons, Seven 
 when two brothers, John and Lawrence, came ^ t- * 
 to Virginia and estabHshed themselves be- 
 tween the Potomac and Rappahannock riv- 
 ers, by Pope's creek. John became Colonel 
 John in wars against the Indians, as, through 
 similar wars in his turn, did his great-grand- 
 son George become Colonel George. In 1694 
 was born Augustine Washington, who be- 
 came Captain Augustine, and was twice 
 married. To him by his second venture 
 (as he styles Mary Ball in his will) was born 
 George at the family homestead in West- 
 moreland county, on February 11, 1731, 
 O. S., or February 22, 1732, by our present 
 calendar. The child's earliest associations, 
 however, were not here, but with the spot of 
 21 
 
Seven his dearest and latest; for his parents, 
 
 ^^\^-^ before he could form memories, had gone to 
 
 Washington ^ 
 
 live at their farm on the Potomac. Some 
 ten years later the house, as we partly know 
 it to-day, was built by George's elder half- 
 brother Lawrence, whose inheritance it was, 
 and who named it Mount Vernon from 
 Admiral Vernon, with whom he had served 
 as an officer at Carthagena. When the boy 
 jwas eleven, Augustine his father died, and 
 he went back to his birthplace, "Wake- 
 field," where he lived with his half-brother 
 Augustine until he was thirteen, going then 
 to live with his mother near Fredericks- 
 burg. In these young days, when he and 
 his mother lived in straitened circumstances 
 (the bulk of the estate being left to his half- 
 brothers), Mary Washington seems to have 
 been a very admirable, if not intellectual, 
 parent for her son, beginning well the training 
 of his character. In later days, her change 
 of disposition and her conduct regarding 
 22 
 
money caused him pain and mortification. Seven 
 
 In certain of his letters to her, always be- S^^ V 
 
 Washington 
 
 ginning "Honored Madam'* according to the 
 custom of their time, the language contains 
 (and not wholly conceals) the struggle be- 
 tween the man's displeasure and the son's 
 natural respect and affection. Some of their 
 paragraphs make distressing reading, and 
 we turn away, leaving them unquoted. 
 
 No more than about the boy's ancestors 
 need we make any guesses about the boy. 
 Though myths of v^^hich he is the hero are 
 plentiful, and facts are few, these facts are 
 strong in vividness and go far to drawing 
 a distinct picture of him, and to giving it 
 definite color as well. We had best not 
 make too much, separately, of the rather 
 uncertain legends concerning his deeds of 
 strength, his taming of wild colts, his long 
 throws, his high climbs; he was evidently 
 well muscled from the first — though some- 
 what lank and hollow chested, and with no 
 23 
 
Seven ruddiness of face — and the value of the 
 
 Jf\ legends is not their individual authenticity, 
 
 Washington ^ -^ 
 
 but their united testimony. Inappropriate 
 anecdotes about anybody never survive: a 
 saying attributed to Franklin will be canny, 
 not dull; a story attributed to Lincoln will 
 be humorous, not stupid; and it is sure that 
 Washington as a boy possessed a body strong 
 and energetic beyond the common, and that 
 he gave much attention to its exercise. 
 
 In children's games he seems to have 
 shared like any other child, and that he 
 played soldier and marshalled and drilled 
 his playmates need scarce be counted a 
 prophetic sign, even though it was he who 
 mostly took the part of commander. He had 
 seen his half-brother Lawrence making ready 
 for real wars; to imitate was inevitable, and 
 military sports have been frequent among 
 generations of children who never came to 
 fame either as soldiers or civilians. If we 
 are looking for portents thus early, there is 
 24 
 
something more in the fact that a few years Seven 
 
 later, at the school in Fredericksburp;, when ^^^\°-: 
 
 ^ fVashington 
 
 the boy had become perhaps fourteen or 
 fifteen, his schoolmates would come in from 
 the playground with disputes for him to 
 settle. They made the studious boy, solitary 
 with his tasks indoors, their habitual umpire. 
 In such a boy we may warrantably see the 
 father of the man who fifty years later was 
 often umpire between two members of his 
 cabinet, and once wrote: "I have a great, a 
 sincere regard and esteem for you both : and 
 ardently wish that some line could be worked 
 out by which both of you should walk." 
 
 But why had the boy with the strong, 
 well-exercised body become solitary indoors 
 at this time ? His growing character might 
 possibly have kept him apart, but not in- 
 doors, and there is another reason which dis- 
 penses with surmise. The means left his 
 mother and her family of five living children 
 was slender, and upon the young shoulders 
 
 25 
 
Seven of George, the eldest, had already fallen their 
 
 ^^\ ^■^ burden of providinp; for himself and for them. 
 
 Washington * ^ 
 
 One advantage common in that day to the 
 sons of well-to-do Virginians did not fall to 
 him, the eldest of the second family, but to 
 his half-brother Lawrence, the eldest of the 
 first marriage. Lawrence was sent to "finish 
 his education" in England, but George had 
 to renounce the luxury of "finishing" even 
 at horne, at William and Mary College, and 
 to make ready by the readiest means to be- 
 come the support of his mother and her 
 children. Hence the indoor study, hence 
 the solitude, both so marked as to have 
 made an impression handed down by his 
 schoolmate, Lewis Willis. In the manu- 
 script of this gentleman's son. Colonel Byrd 
 Willis, is the following passage about Wash- 
 ington : " My father . . . spoke of the Gen- 
 eral's industry and assiduity at school as 
 very remarkable. Whilst his brother and 
 other boys at playtime were at bandy and 
 26 
 
other games, he was behind the door cipher- Seven 
 
 ing. But one youthful ebulHtion is handed Jf\ 
 
 ° -^ yvashington 
 
 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." 
 
 And now, since portents when they are real 
 are of the deepest significance, we do indeed 
 come upon something worth more than a 
 passing mention. To the boy making ready 
 to support his mother, and denied the "finish- 
 ing" of college at home or travel in England, 
 fell a timely piece of good fortune : he re- 
 ceived the "finishing" from an unexpected 
 quarter; he came under the influence of a 
 civilization more finely civilized than Eng- 
 land's, more courteous, more restrained than 
 eighteenth-century England knew. 
 
 To any one familiar with Washington manu- 
 scripts, that earliest, the school copy-book of 
 1745, is well known. In spite of its some- 
 what damaged state, it reveals faithfully and 
 
 27 
 
Seven fully that Steadfast indoor ciphering which 
 
 w^ h ^^^ ^^ prepare him for -supporting his mother. 
 
 The various formal documents of business 
 and book-keeping appear there, copied slowly 
 in his boyish hand for the sake of securely 
 mastering them, and here and there amid 
 these careful transcriptions, a few scrawled 
 pictures of those he sat in school with, and 
 of birds of uncertain species. But even this 
 evidence of whence began that habit and 
 extraordinary power of method in practical 
 affairs, which later served his country and 
 himself so well, — even this is of secondary 
 interest to the no rules of civility, also to be 
 seen in this copy-book of 1745, written with 
 more signs of haste than the transcribed 
 bonds and receipts, as if from dictation. 
 With these rules the boy's strong-built, 
 rough, and passionate nature was deeply 
 instilled before he stepped forth upon his 
 adventurous journey in the world. The part 
 they played in his life — since his public and 
 28 
 
private acts show their spirit and teaching Seven 
 
 at every turn — was of the first importance, Jf^ 
 
 Washington 
 
 not to him alone, but also to his country. 
 Moncure D. Conway, who has traced delight- 
 fully and admirably the French origin and re- 
 markable history of these rules, says regarding 
 their influence upon Washington's character: 
 "In the hand of that man of strong brain 
 and powerful passions once lay the destiny 
 of the New World, — in a sense, human 
 destiny. But for his possession of the humil- 
 ity and self-discipline underlying his Rules 
 of Civility, the ambitious politicians of the 
 United States might to-day be popularly 
 held to a much lower standard." And to 
 this it should be added, that from these 
 rules and their moulding of Washington's 
 character flowed his power of address 
 — the consideration and the simplicity — 
 which won for him, as it won for no other of 
 his time, the esteem and devotion of those 
 who could help our Revolution in the direst 
 29 
 
Seven hours of its need. It is scarce worth ob- 
 
 .^r\ serving that the coincidence of good seed and 
 
 Washington ^ ^ 
 
 good soil is always necessary, and that i^ 
 Washington's character had not been the 
 field, the rules would have been less fruitful. 
 But it is well worth observing that they 
 produced some fruit in two fairly barren 
 characters : Madison and Monroe were also 
 taught their good manners, and almost 
 certainly by these same rules, at the Fred- 
 ericksburg school, and Madison and Monroe, 
 when examined close, have little to show but 
 their courtesy, both being models equally of 
 urbanity and incompetence. 
 
 It was once supposed that Washington 
 was himself the boy author of these rules; 
 but they date from 1595 and before his day 
 had known several translations, imitations, 
 and plagiarisms, among which was an English 
 version of 1640 entitled, "Youth's Behaviour, 
 or Decency in Conversation amongst men. 
 Composed in French by grave persons for 
 
 30 
 
the Use and benefit of their youth. Now Seven 
 newly translated into English by Francis Jf\^-^ 
 Hawkins." It is possible, as Mr. Conway 
 shows, that what we find in the copy-book of 
 1745 was the result of Washington's reading 
 and amending Hawkins by himself. But 
 the amendments seem too skilful for the boy of 
 fourteen, and Mr. Conway's own theory seems 
 almost a proven case. In 1729 there sailed 
 to Virginia with his bride the Rev. James 
 Marye. This gentleman had been educated 
 for the priesthood, and thus must inevitably 
 have met the rules, which were a manual 
 among the religious colleges of France. But 
 he became a Huguenot, and hence an emi- 
 grant, settling at first in King William Par- 
 ish. In 1735 he was called to St. George's, 
 Fredericksburg, where he set up a school, 
 created a large congregation, and died in 
 1767. To his school went many eminent 
 Virginians, besides those already named, 
 and the good manners of several generations 
 
 31 
 
Seven of boys brought James Marye and his school 
 
 ^^^ ^ into high respect and reputation, for he 
 
 Washington fe r r ' 
 
 taught civiUty as a branch of education, as 
 he taught arithmetic. As the rules in the 
 copy-book show a correspondence with Haw- 
 kins sometimes, but more often with the 
 original French, and as Washington's hand- 
 writing here gives signs of haste and correction 
 that do not elsewhere appear, it points to 
 the conclusion that the maxims were dictated 
 to his boys by James Marye, who availed 
 himself, now of Hawkins, and again (and 
 more often) of the original treatise that 
 emanated from the pensionnaires of the 
 College of La Fleche in 1595, with the title 
 Bienseance de la Conversation entre les 
 Hommes. Let us remember with gratitude 
 and regard the Huguenot emigrant, an exile 
 because of his high principles, who brought 
 these principles to benefit our shores, and 
 became the founder of an honorable family, 
 and the wise teacher of American youth. 
 ! 32 
 
For the interest of it, we cite three parallel Seven 
 
 versions of one of these maxims : — S^^ ^J 
 
 ■Washington 
 
 Washington's copy-book, 20th Rule. " The 
 Gestures of the Body must be Suited to the 
 discourse you are upon." 
 
 Hawkins i. 30. **Let the gestures of the 
 body be agreeable to the matter of thy dis- 
 course. For it hath been ever held a sol- 
 cesim.e in oratory, to poynt to the Earth, 
 when thou talkest of Heaven.'' 
 
 Original French. "Parmy les discours 
 regardez a mettre vostre corps en belle 
 posture." 
 
 Were there space here for all the maxims 
 they should be given, so quaint are they in 
 phrase, so sound in foundation, resting upon 
 the deep moral principle of consideration 
 for others, and many of them applicable with- 
 out change to modern requirements. But 
 fragments of them must suffice: — 
 33 
 
Jges of 
 Washington 
 
 Seven " Be not immodest in urging your Friends 
 
 to discover a secret." 
 
 "Wear not your Cloths foul, unript, or 
 dusty." 
 
 "Sleep not when others Speak, Sit not when 
 others stand. Speak not when you should 
 hold your Peace, walk not when others Stop." 
 
 "Superfluous Complements and all Affec- 
 tation of Ceremony are to be avoided, yet 
 where due they are not to be Neglected." 
 
 "Read no Letters, Books, or Papers in 
 Company but when there is a Necessity for 
 the doing of it you must ask leave: come 
 not near the Books or Writings of Another 
 so as to read them unless desired . . . look 
 not nigh when another is writing a Letter." 
 
 "Speak not of doleful things in a time of 
 mirth." 
 
 "Talk not with meat in your mouth." 
 "Labour to keep alive in your breast that 
 little Spark of Celestial fire called Con- 
 
 science." 
 
 34 
 
Such were the precepts that Washington Seven 
 
 copied as a boy of fourteen, and they entered Jf\. 
 ^ J ^ J Washington 
 
 Hke leaven into that young lump of strength. 
 "Your future character and reputation 
 [he writes, forty-three years afterward to a 
 nephew] will depend very much, if not entirely, 
 upon the habits and manners which you 
 contract in the present period of your life." 
 These words are not the facile commonplaces 
 of an elderly man moralizing to a youth; they 
 indicate that Washington was entirely aware 
 of the great influence for good exerted upon 
 his own character by the Rules of Civility. 
 It is a misfortune for all American boys in all 
 our schools to-day, that they should be told 
 the untrue and foolish story of the hatchet 
 and cherry tree, and denied the immense 
 benefit of instruction from George Washing- 
 ton's authentic copy-book. 
 
 Ornamental knowledge he had no op- 
 portunity for (with life's necessities pressing 
 him so near), and very likely he showed small 
 
 35 
 
Seven leaning to it. It is plain that his business 
 
 Jf\ bent was already strong in him, and that 
 
 Washington ^ ^ 
 
 beyond the necessity, his own instinct chose 
 the line of bonds and receipts, rather than of 
 literature and history. And yet they have 
 been quite wrong who at various times have 
 asserted that he was an ignorant man of but 
 small reading. That he read for practical 
 purposes more than for entertainment is 
 undoubtedly true, and that he held a very 
 humble opinion of his own taste and judg- 
 ment in literary matters is equally so — yet 
 how interesting is this passage in a letter 
 written to Lafayette in 1788 ! — 
 
 "... Such are your Antient Bards who 
 are both the priest and door-keepers to 
 the temple of fame. And these, my dear 
 Marquis, are no vulgar functions . . . heroes 
 have made poets, and poets heroes. Alex- 
 ander the Great is said to have been en- 
 raptured with the Poems of Homer. . . . 
 Julius Caesar is well known to have been a 
 
 36 
 
man of highly cultivated understanding and Seven 
 
 taste. . . . The Augustan Age is prover- ^^^\ 
 
 ^ fe r Washington 
 
 bial ... in it the harvest of laurels and 
 bays was v^onderfully mingled together. . . . 
 The age of your Louis the fourteenth, which 
 produced a multitude of great poets and great 
 Captains, will never be forgotten; nor will 
 that of Queen Ann ... for the same cause. . . . 
 Perhaps we shall be found at this moment, 
 not inferior to the rest of the world in the 
 performances of our poets and painters; 
 notwithstanding many of the incitements are 
 wanting which operate powerfully among 
 older nations. For it is generally under- 
 stood, that excellence in those sister Arts 
 has been the result of easy circumstances, 
 public encouragements and an advanced stage 
 of society. ... I hardly know how it is 
 that I am drawn thus far in observations on 
 a subject so foreign from those in which 
 we are mostly engaged, farming and poli- 
 tics " 
 
 37 
 
Seven It is not an ignorant man who writes thus. 
 
 S\ Somehow at sometime durine; his life so full 
 
 Washington ° 
 
 of sword and of plough, he had considered the 
 poets and heroes, and the question of sub- 
 sidized art, although the scanty glimpses 
 that he gives of this consideration make us, 
 who would know him wholly, regret that he 
 was not more often "drawn thus far in ob- 
 servations on a subject so foreign." 
 
 At the age of fourteen — the age of the 
 copy-book — he had a wish to enter the navy, 
 which his mother opposed, and he therefore 
 went on with his school and his mathematics, 
 which led him to the study of surveying — a 
 very important fact in his destiny. It was 
 probably now, after his disappointment 
 about the navy, that his home responsibihties 
 grew clear to his conscience and that he 
 absented himself from the playground for 
 the sake of harder study. The girls used to 
 wish that he would talk more; "he was a 
 very bashful young man," is the recorded 
 
 38 
 
opinion of one of them in later life ; yet Seven 
 some girl had already disturbed his dawning ^^^Jj^ ^^ 
 passion. Presently he was writing verses, 
 though of a quality scarce equal to his mathe- 
 matics. 
 
 " Oh ye Gods why should my Poor resistless Heart 
 Stand to oppose thy might and power — 
 ***** 
 " In deluding sleepings let my eyelids close 
 
 That in an enraptured dream I may 
 
 In a rapt lulling sleep and gentle repose 
 
 Possess those joys denied by day." 
 
 Other lyrics to other ladies are found in his 
 early writing, but maturer passion ended by 
 expressing itself in prose. 
 
 Such was the boy: of vigorous flesh, of 
 grave spirit rendered graver by necessity, a 
 respected umpire of school-ground disputes, 
 a romantic follower of the fair sex; his hair 
 was brown, his eye blue gray, not flashing 
 but steady, and he had a nose that his friends 
 must have hoped he would grow up to. 
 39 
 
III. THE YOUNG MAN 
 
Seven 
 Jges of 
 Washington 
 
 III 
 
 So his schooldays ended, and with them 
 not indeed his education, for this was just 
 begun; but schoolmasters and copy-books 
 were over, and the apron-string was broken. 
 It was not beneath his mother's roof any 
 more, but at Mount Vernon, with his brother 
 Lawrence, that his home was to be. Here 
 he was to turn his studies in surveying to prac- 
 tical account, and to practical account also 
 the rules of civility. The working of these in 
 his character and demeanor brought him that 
 next experience, that next education, which 
 may be set among the chief advantages of his 
 youth. It would seem that the Mount Vernon 
 neighborhood was poor in gentlefolk com- 
 pared to Fredericksburg, and that the man- 
 ners and breeding of this young Washington, 
 
 43 
 
Seven 
 Ages of 
 Washington 
 
 who had come here to Hve, shone out, and won 
 for him at once the notice of an older man of 
 high position and noble nature. Lord Fairfax 
 lived on his estate adjoining Mount Vernon. 
 Belvoir, his place (pronounced Beaver), 
 could be seen from there across Dogue Run, 
 the little tributary of the Potomac so often 
 mentioned by Washington in his diaries. The 
 boy surveyor — he was not yet quite sixteen 
 — spent his steady working hours in going 
 about over his brother Lawrence's lands, 
 running lines with admirable pains and 
 accuracy, and his holidays he took in hunting 
 the fox. That he relaxed himself between- 
 whiles sometimes in the composition of verse, 
 full of the sighs of unrequited love, is less 
 remarkable at sixteen than the quality of his 
 surveyor work. He fell in with Lord Fairfax 
 while surveying as well as while hunting, 
 and the nobleman admired the energy which 
 the lad put into both work and play — but 
 it may very well be that what endeared the 
 44 
 
young surveyor to his lordship was the Seven 
 
 gallant manner in which he took his fences. ,£^^, 
 
 ^ Washington 
 
 " Let your recreations be Manfull not Sinfull/' 
 says Rule 109 in the copy-book. And so 
 Washington's pluck, and his good, modest 
 manners, brought Fairfax to make him his 
 frequent companion in hunting and his guest 
 at Belvoir, where there were well-bred women, 
 and Addison's essays, and all was of a piece 
 of the same sound mellow civilization. In 
 this good society the boy of sixteen grew 
 steadily into a man of the world (though of 
 his bashfulness he never became complete 
 master, and we shall see this later upon sev- 
 eral occasions), and he also learned in farming 
 and agriculture those standards of English 
 thoroughness which he endeavored to main- 
 tain later in the midst of the American 
 slackness that prevailed then, as it prevails 
 to-day. What he learned among the ladies 
 who lived or visited at Belvoir came as nat- 
 urally to him and was retained as tenaciously 
 
 45 
 
Seven by his instinct and his memory as the out- 
 
 ■^^ ^ door knowledge, the planting, harvesting, 
 
 fencing, gates, hinges, and all else with which 
 Lord Fairfax's talk must have abounded, 
 while the older man and the young rode leis- 
 urely across country together after a hunt. 
 Fairfax was bound to comment upon the 
 slovenly American farming that they passed 
 by at such times. 
 
 Surely his lordship gave the boy a mount 
 now and then! Surely he sometimes said: 
 "There's a young horse at Belvoir you had 
 better try and see if he will do for the ladies.'' 
 It is agreeable to think of those huntings; 
 of the hounds scudding over Virginia's 
 pleasant hills, and hard behind them the 
 ruddy-faced nobleman, with George not 
 quite abreast of him (Rule 57: "In walking 
 . . . with ... a man of Great quality, walk 
 not with him cheek by jowl, but somewhat 
 behind him ") — George therefore keeping 
 himself a respectful second, controlling the 
 
 46 
 
sinful desires of the spirit to be first — and Seven 
 
 some love verses forgotten in his pocket. Jf\ 
 
 Washington 
 
 Then in the field corners, by the edges of the 
 covers, stopping to bite a sandwich, surely his 
 lordship would bid the boy come up for a pull 
 at his own flask, and surely the boy, after 
 a proper hesitation, would take the pull ! 
 (Rule 40: "Strive not with your superiors in 
 argument.") And so the two ride home, 
 talking together after the hunt; perhaps the 
 boy stops to sup at Belvoir with Lord Fairfax, 
 or perhaps the hunt has taken them to the 
 other side of the country, and Lord Fairfax 
 sups and sleeps at Mount Vernon; and as he 
 and his host, Lawrence Washington, light 
 their bedroom candles, and part for the night, 
 his Lordship says: — 
 
 "Your brother's a fine lad, Mr. Washing- 
 ton. We must do something for him. Sir." 
 
 And the eyes of the elder brother fill with 
 tenderness and pride at the remark of Lord 
 Fairfax, for he knows it to be true. In the 
 
 47 
 
Seven character of the boy he had brought from 
 
 S\ Fredericksburg;, to give a start in Hfe if he 
 
 Washington ° ^ 
 
 could, he had soon discerned a jewel of great 
 price, and his hopes and his love were set 
 upon him. 
 
 Next, Lord Fairfax "does something" 
 for young George, makes him surveyor of 
 his great back lands, and the happy boy of 
 sixteen gets on his horse and rides forth to 
 his career. The day is marked in his diary. 
 "Fryday March nth, 1747-8 Began my 
 Journey in company with George Fairfax, 
 Esqr. ; we travell'd this day 40 miles to Mr. 
 George Newels in Prince William County." 
 
 That he knew these days for happy ones is 
 not likely, for his nature was not the sort 
 that sits estimating the present moment in 
 reflection, but rather fills it with action; 
 yet in his writings the joy of the new adven- 
 ture is plain. 
 
 "Dear Richard . . . Since you received 
 my letter in October last, I have not sleep'd 
 
 48 
 
above three nights or four in a bed, but, Seven 
 
 after walking a p;ood deal all the day, I lay rrr\ 
 
 ^ ^ /' / Washington 
 
 down before the fire upon a little hay, straw, 
 fodder or bearskin . . . with man, wife and 
 children, like a parcel of dogs and cats; and 
 happy is he who gets the berth nearest the 
 fire." 
 
 Only the man that in his youth has known 
 camping, and the joy that comes to him who 
 in many months of the wilderness has not 
 " sleep'd above three nights or four in a bed," 
 can comprehend the delight of life which the 
 young Washington knew at this time. When 
 in afteryears he saw these Fairfax days — 
 the backwoods surveyings and the home- 
 comings to his friend's house — saw this in 
 the far horizon of the past, across the great 
 anxieties, disasters, and triumphs that lay 
 between himself and his youth, it is thus that 
 we find him writing : — 
 
 "... None of which events, however, 
 nor all of them together, have been able to 
 49 
 
Seven eradicate from my mirid the recollection of 
 
 ^^ ^ those happy moments, the happiest in my 
 
 life, which I have enjoyed in your company 
 . . . and it is matter of sore regret, when I 
 cast my eyes towards Belvoir, which I often 
 do, to reflect, the former inhabitants of it, 
 with whom we lived in such harmony and 
 friendship, no longer reside there, and that 
 the ruins can only be viewed as the memento 
 of former pleasures." 
 
 These touching and revealing words were 
 written from Mount Vernon, May i6, 1798, 
 after he had been twice President, to Mrs. 
 Sarah Fairfax in England, where she had 
 gone to live. She was the widow of that 
 George Fairfax with whom he began his 
 surveying journey on that "Fryday" the 
 nth of March, fifty years before. 
 
 He had forgotten the sorrows of that 
 earlier time, of which the following letter 
 will give us a smiling glimpse : — 
 
 "Dear Friend Robin . . . My place of 
 
 50 
 
residence is at present at his Lordship's, Seven 
 where I might, was my heart disengaged, t^\ . 
 pass my time very pleasantly as there's a 
 very agreeable young lady lives in the same 
 house. . . . But as that's only adding fuel 
 to fire, it makes me the more uneasy, for by 
 often and inevitably, being in company with 
 her revives my former passion for your 
 Lowland beauty; whereas, was I to live more 
 retired from young women, I might in some 
 measure eliviate my sorrows, by burying the 
 chaste and troublesome passion in the grave 
 of oblivion. ..." 
 
 Buried it was not, at once; on the con- 
 trary, the lover orders, with as many careful 
 and exact details as if it were a survey, a 
 highly fashionable coat to be made for him: 
 "... on each side six buttonholes . . . 
 the waist from the armpit to the fold to be 
 exactly as long or longer than from thence to 
 the bottom. ..." This is only a part, less 
 than a third, of his directions about this 
 
 51 
 
Seven coat, and does it not read remarkably like a 
 
 Ag-es of 2 
 
 ^f^ . / survey r 
 
 Washington •' 
 
 But coat and all, he did not win his Low- 
 land beauty (whoever she was, for later 
 guesses fit the facts imperfectly), and it is 
 plain that he followed now the most usual 
 and most wholesome course of youth — 
 cured one love-wound by receiving another. 
 The next lady refused him twice, we know, 
 how many more times we do not know; but 
 when this case proved hopeless too, young 
 George again had recourse to the like-cures- 
 like treatment, and not for the last time. 
 With him it would seem to have proved 
 invariably successful. 
 
 Why was he so unlucky in these affairs t 
 Why did he so fail to win young women's 
 hearts t He was strong, athletic, tall, a 
 daring rider, his manliness had won the 
 hearts of his brother and Lord Fairfax. 
 What, then, was the matter 1 It is hard to 
 come at the reason, and very likely there is 
 52 
 
no one reason. In his favor he had those Seven 
 
 personal attributes just enumerated, and ^^^ °J 
 
 * Washington 
 
 beyond these, the public mark he was already 
 beginning to make. Appointed public sur- 
 veyor very soon, at the instance of Lord 
 Fairfax, before he was twenty he had the 
 position of adjutant-general with the rank 
 of Major. These are bright trophies to 
 flourish in the eyes of the fair. But we may 
 be sure that he did not flourish them, that 
 the modesty and respectfulness which so 
 commended hiln to his elderly patron still 
 always became bashfulness when with a 
 young woman; it is moreover possible that 
 his gravity, his lack of quick light talk, 
 frightened them ofi^ when it came to tying 
 themselves to it for life. And last, but least 
 by no means, let us remember his nose. It 
 was a formidable feature — it never ceased 
 to be so — and in these budding days of 
 manhood, it beaked out of that young face 
 in overweening scale. Corresponding to this 
 
 53 
 
Seven nose without, was a character within, huge, 
 
 g^^ (^j forcible, out of scale with the immature years 
 
 Washington 
 
 and experience of its possessor. Perhaps the 
 reader has at some time known a friend or 
 acquaintance who was more symmetrical at 
 thirty than at twenty, who was slow in grow- 
 ing up to himself. Not a few men are so, 
 and when a creature of Washington's moral 
 dimensions comes upon earth, his early 
 personality is sure to be somewhat ungainly. 
 Moreover, he is certain to crowd those who 
 are near him without meaning it, or even 
 knowing it. With the best of intentions, with 
 the most real modesty, Washington must 
 have been not seldom an uncomfortable, 
 unwieldy companion among those of his 
 own age. If we think these things over, 
 we feel that we may understand why the 
 girls would not have him. 
 
 His minute directions about a coat have 
 been seen above, and this care as to dress 
 never left him. A proper appearance was 
 54 
 
one of the many things to which his mind, in Seven 
 
 due proportion, attended, and almost always ^^^ ^^ 
 
 * -^ Washington 
 
 with that same precision of detail which he 
 gave to all the multitudinous matters, public 
 and private, that he took up. So it was with 
 the harness for his horses, and his carriage; 
 we can find numerous directions written to 
 England about his wife's clothes ! If the 
 Lowland beauty and her several successors 
 had ever the faintest inkling that their suitor 
 would supervise their petticoats and far- 
 thingales, we need speculate no further why 
 they one and all dismissed him. In the 
 general panorama of orders about apparel 
 that mingles with his writings, the most 
 interesting trait of all is the appropriate- 
 ness; as he grows older, he orders more 
 sober garments. At no period, young or 
 old, is it common to find him as unspecific 
 as this : — 
 
 55 
 
Seven "FoRT CUMBERLAND, 14 May, 1 755. 
 
 "^1"/ "Dear Brother: 
 
 Washington 
 
 "As wearing boots is quite the mode, and 
 mine are in a declining state, I must beg the 
 favor of you to procure me a pair that is 
 good and neat." 
 
 There is one more word to say about the 
 surveys of this frequent young lover; they 
 suffered no neglect through the preoccupa- 
 tions of his heart. So accurate they were, 
 that to this day they stand unquestioned, 
 wherever found. 
 
 What did they for his character .? — Sleep- 
 ing (as he records) in "one thread bear 
 blanket with double its weight of vermin," 
 or lodging "where we had a good dinner . . . 
 wine and Rum punch in plenty, a good 
 Feather Bed with clean sheets," or having 
 "our tent carried quite off with ye wind," 
 or meeting Indians coming from war, who 
 entertain him with a war-dance, jumping 
 
 56 
 
"about ye Ring in a most cornicle manner." Seven 
 
 It was the apprenticeship, the seasoning; ,£^^, 
 
 * * * ^ Washington 
 
 he was learning the alphabet of Trenton and 
 Valley Forge, personal discomfort was noth- 
 ing to his body or his mind that loved a pretty 
 coat on the proper occasion. His rides, his 
 camps, his river swimming and rough wander- 
 ing brought him close to those who were to be 
 his soldiers hereafter, and brought them close 
 to him; he and Virginia learned to know 
 each other. He became a woodsman, a path- 
 finder, a shrewd judge of wild country and of 
 wild human nature, he wore an Indian hunt- 
 ing shirt — but remained civilized all the 
 while. For Lord Fairfax was always there 
 to come home to from the log-cabins; 
 Lord Fairfax at Belvoir, or at Greenway 
 Court his new place, and Lawrence Wash- 
 ington at Mount Vernon, and their visitors, of 
 good manners and urbane knowledge of the 
 great world — gentlemen and ladies — a so- 
 ciety to hold the backwoods surveyor to his 
 
 57 
 
Seven Standards; and there were the books also, 
 
 Jf\ ^he Spectator, and other sound volumes that 
 
 Washington '■ 
 
 he evidently read beneath their roofs. Thus, 
 while the wilderness entered into his strong 
 body, many wholesome things entered into 
 his strong brain, and tenaciously stayed 
 there. 
 
 To us, because we never saw him, it is 
 wonderful to find him adjutant-general of his 
 district at twenty; that is the age when our 
 present privileged youth is carrying brokers' 
 messages, or stealing signs at college. It 
 was not wonderful to those who did see him 
 — his appointment was made easily. After 
 this, it is less wonderful (since we begin to 
 perceive how large his figure was growing in 
 the community) to find him at twenty-two 
 chosen by the Governor of Virginia to go to 
 the agitated frontier upon a general mission of 
 pacification among the French, the Indians, 
 and the restless colonists. His dear brother 
 Lawrence was now dead, whose health for 
 
 58 
 
some years had been failing. A journey to Seven 
 
 the Barbadoes had not brought Lawrence the J!\. 
 
 ^ Washington 
 
 strength he had sailed there to seek, while 
 to George who accompanied him (the only 
 occasion when Washington was ever absent 
 from our continent) it had brought small- 
 pox, of which his face carried the marks all 
 his life. But young Washington had passed 
 beyond the need of any protector. He re- 
 turned from his mission to the Ohio — 
 Venango, Duquesne, let them here be named 
 — having come safe through many pitfalls 
 of Indian treachery, French diplomacy, and 
 frozen rivers. 
 
 "There was no way [he writes] for getting 
 over but on a Raft; which we set about 
 with but one poor hatchet. . . . Before we 
 were half way over we were jammed in the 
 Ice . . . the Rapidity of the Stream . . . 
 jerked me out into ten feet of Water.'* Does 
 this not seem like the wintry wraith of Tren- 
 ton, prophetically rising ? 
 
 59 
 
Seven "Our horses were now so weak . . . and 
 
 Jr^\: the Baggage so heavy . . . myself and others 
 
 . . . gave up our Horses for Packs ... I 
 
 put myself in an Indian walking dress, and 
 
 continued with them three Days." 
 
 "Queen Aliquippa . . . expressed great 
 concern that we had passed her. ... I 
 made her a present of a Matchcoat and a 
 Bottle of Rum; which latter was thought 
 much the best present of the Two." 
 
 These few lines are from many pages re- 
 cording that journey; pages of hardihood, 
 ^ caution, and resource, with now and then a 
 
 slight suggestion of amusement, like Queen 
 Aliquippa and the rum. 
 
 Thus Major Washington came out from 
 the backwoods, and into the backwoods was 
 sent again almost at once, but now as Lieu- 
 tenant-colonel Washington. All Virginia 
 knew now that she had found a man. They 
 wished him to head the troops raised to pro- 
 tect the king's land, but he wrote: "The 
 60 
 
command of the whole force ... is a charge Seven 
 
 too great for my youth and inexperience.'* ^^^ °^ 
 
 Washington 
 
 "Dear George/' was the reply, "I enclose 
 you your commission. God prosper you 
 with it." So he was made second in com- 
 mand, but through the death of his superior 
 officer became first before the campaign was 
 over. 
 
 God did prosper him — though not in 
 ways immediately visible — for the alphabet 
 of preparation went on, — the severe alphabet 
 of responsibility, injustice, privation, defeat. 
 These, with hard recruiting, scarce horses, 
 scarce men, and stingy pay, were his next 
 apprenticeship. Washington, a colony Colo- 
 nel, was paid less than a king's captain, 
 and was moreover looked down upon by the 
 king's captain ; it was his first taste of that 
 dull superciliousness in the mother country 
 toward her own flesh and blood across the 
 sea, which ended in the estrangement and 
 loss of that flesh and blood for ever. 
 6i 
 
Seven "I have not offered," Washington writes 
 
 rrr" 7 Govcmor Dinwiddie, "to control Captain 
 
 yvashington ^ 
 
 Mackay in anything . . . but, sir, two com- 
 manders are . . . incompatible. . . . He 
 thinks you have not a power to give commis- 
 sions that will command him . . . that it is not 
 in his power to oblige his men to work upon 
 the road . . . whilst our faithful soldiers 
 are laboriously employed. ... I am much 
 grieved to find our stores so slow advanc- 
 ing. God knows when we shall be able to 
 do anything for to deserve better of our 
 country." 
 
 There we have it vivid after a hundred and 
 fifty years — the English officer nasty to his 
 American superior officer, and the English 
 enlisted man nasty to his fellow-American 
 enlisted man, lounging by and letting him do 
 the dirty, digging work ! We need to-day 
 no longer take the stilted, absurd view taught 
 us in our schoolbooks, that England was 
 a "tyrant" and a "despot" to us; the facts 
 62 
 
will not bear it. Every American every day Seven 
 
 is sufFerinp; ten times the tyranny from trusts ,£^^,^ 
 ° -^ •' Washtngt 
 
 and labor-unions that we suffered from Eng- 
 land before the Revolution; but between 
 those lines of Washington's letter to Din- 
 widdie, we catch a flash of that intolerable 
 attitude of the Englishman to the American 
 then, whose exasperating effect really did 
 more to throw the tea into Boston harbor 
 and to write the Declaration of Independence 
 than all the acts of Parliament put together. 
 But how bright does the young Washington 
 shine out in that last burst of fervor, where 
 the little homely turn of grammar seems 
 somehow only to make him the more engag- 
 ing! "God knows when we shall be able 
 to do anything for to deserve better of our 
 country." 
 
 Yes ; the alphabet of preparation was going 
 on, was even forming into words ; though as 
 compared with Trenton and Valley Forge, 
 those future days when the weight and the 
 
 63 
 
Seven 
 Ages of 
 Washingt 
 
 fate of a nation were to hang like a millstone 
 about his neck, such words seem of but one 
 syllable. He tasted defeat in this Great 
 Meadows campaign, and perfidy of colleagues, 
 and the ingratitude of Dinwiddie — severe 
 but wholesome flavors for the future loser 
 of Long Island and Brandywine, the future 
 comrade of Gates, Conway, and Charles 
 Lee. Good reason had he likewise to lament 
 his total ignorance of French, since trusting 
 to interpreters led to a number of crooked 
 results, by which his reputation was 
 clouded for a while. So once again he 
 marched back from Venango and Duquesne 
 with his new harvest of experience, meagre 
 supplies, scarce horses, faithless allies, his 
 conduct questioned — and in the end no 
 victory. Yet, when all was sifted clear, he 
 came out of it so honorable and efficient 
 amid the general mismanagement, that the 
 Legislature voted him public thanks. His 
 ups and downs in favor also resemble the days 
 
 64 
 
to come, when Congress at one moment was Seven 
 
 for superseding him, and at the next made him ^^^ ^ 
 
 Washington 
 
 mihtary dictator. He got at this time, too, 
 an Indian name, as later, by the British, he 
 came to be known as "the Old Fox''; — but 
 by that time he no longer spoke of any place 
 as "a charming field for an encounter," as 
 he spoke of Great Meadows in his unwhetted 
 enthusiasm. It was now that his young 
 blood took joy in the sound of bullets, and 
 that he wrote of his strength: "I have a 
 constitution hardy enough to encounter and 
 undergo the most severe trials." We may 
 be quite sure that enormous enjoyment was 
 constantly his, and that peril and the meeting 
 it salted his many troubles; and also we may 
 suspect it was the mental trials of having 
 his conduct questioned, more than any 
 bodily hardships, that caused the "loss of 
 health" he soon speaks of, — nor was the 
 "loss" a heavy one. It looks as if young 
 Colonel Washington had that impatience of 
 
 65 
 
Seven any ailment, so common to men who are 
 
 y^^\. almost invariably well, and that he took his 
 
 yyasntngton -^ 
 
 present indisposition with undue gravity. 
 
 Of English superciliousness and insolence 
 he began to have repeated experiences, the 
 king's officers being the offenders; and it is 
 no surprise to find him thoroughly roused by 
 the mean offer of a nondescript sort of rank, a 
 compromise, carrying no pay — this in the 
 face of the recent vote of thanks for his 
 services in the Great Meadows campaign, 
 where the responsibilities of chief in com- 
 mand had devolved upon him. In answer to 
 such an affront, he writes : " If you think me 
 capable of holding a commission that has 
 neither rank nor emolument annexed to it, 
 you must entertain a very contemptible 
 opinion of my weakness, and believe me to 
 be more empty than the commission itself" 
 So he goes indignant to Mount Vernon (now 
 become his own), but it is not for long. Again, 
 in spite of his mother, he is off to the French 
 66 
 
and Indian wars, wishing "earnestly to attain Seven 
 
 some knowledge In the military profession Jf\ 
 
 ^ ^ ^ Waskington 
 
 . . . under a gentleman of General Brad- 
 dock's abilities and experience." 
 
 Thus he marches to another encounter 
 with adversity — the worst yet. Again it is 
 the old backwoods trail, again Great Mead- 
 ows, and again Venango and Duquesne, 
 whose sounding names seem to ring like bells 
 of omen through the time of Washington's 
 apprenticeship. This expedition repeated, in 
 greater dimensions, the trials and lessons of 
 its predecessor; British insolence, British 
 stupidity, with failure and catastrophe as 
 the upshot. Braddock applied to the back- 
 woods, against Indians, just the same methods 
 of warfare he had known In settled commu- 
 nities with travelled roads, against white men, 
 and he by no means thanked Washington 
 for offering suggestions about the habits of 
 Indians, and the trackless character of the 
 country. 
 
 67 
 
Seven It has often been said, and is said still, 
 
 Jf\ that Washington had no humor; but this has 
 
 Washington 
 
 been pushed too far — to the point, indeed, 
 of attributing to him an eternal gravity of 
 appearance and a stiffness of spirit that 
 never stooped so low as fun. Let us provide 
 him w^ith no trait he does not himself disclose, 
 but neither let us rob him of any. Early 
 in this lamentable Braddock expedition, he 
 writes of an escort of eight men he had with 
 him: "Which eight men were two days 
 assembling, but I believe would not have 
 been as many seconds dispersing if I had been 
 attacked." And about this same time: "I 
 have at last discovered . . . why Mrs. Ward- 
 rope is a greater favorite of Genl. Brad- 
 dock than Mrs. F — . . . . Nothing less, I 
 assure you than a present of delicious cake 
 and potted Woodcocks!" Washington had 
 a sense of fun, could be on occasion sedately 
 jocular, and also (as shall be seen) could be 
 surprised into outbursts of hilarity as violent 
 68 
 
as his occasional outbursts of rage. His un- Seven 
 
 doubtedly restricted sense of humor was of ^^^ ^J 
 
 Washington 
 
 its day, eighteenth century; and a retort of 
 Goldsmith's to Dr. Johnson, while they were 
 discussing the doctor's ability to write a 
 fable about little fish, might fit the Father of 
 our Country well: "Why, Doctor, you could 
 never write a fable about little fish, you would 
 make them talk like whales !" 
 
 Upon this expedition Washington added to 
 his experience of military blundering, civil 
 incompetence, political jealousy, and starving 
 commissariat, a very valuable new piece of 
 knowledge — that British soldiers could run 
 away. He says: "The dastardly behavior 
 of the Regular troops (so called) exposed 
 those who were inclined to do their duty to 
 almost certain death. ... I tremble at 
 the consequence this defeat may have upon 
 our back settlers." But before the end, 
 before his own miserable catastrophe and 
 death, poor British Braddock dropped his 
 
 69 
 
Seven superciliousness, and learned to respect his 
 
 Jf\ young Virginia aide. Washington has left 
 
 words about him both friendly and just. 
 
 Once more he was at Mount Vernon, but 
 busy, scraping troops together, after four 
 bullets through his coat and two horses shot 
 under him, with such a record of bravery 
 shining through the clouds of Braddock's 
 misfortune, that a clergyman, in a sermon, 
 preached in Virginia and printed in Phila- 
 delphia and London, says: "That heroic 
 youth. Colonel Washington, whom I can not 
 but hope Providence has hitherto preserved 
 in so signal a manner for some important 
 service to his country." How strange seems 
 the petulant complaint of John Adams in 
 after days, that Washington owed his dis- 
 tinction to having married a rich wife ! He 
 was now appointed commander-in-chief of 
 all forces in the colony, with 300 pounds 
 compensation for his personal losses and his 
 conduct in the Braddock campaign. His 
 70 
 
familiar letters at this time speak of severe Seven 
 
 illness, impaired constitution, and damaged ^f^\ 
 
 ^ Washington 
 
 private fortune. "I have been upon the 
 losing order . . . for near two years," he 
 gloomily remarks. But there is evidence, in 
 a letter written to him from the Fairfax house, 
 of some alleviations : — 
 
 "Dear Sir: After thanking Heaven for 
 your safe return I must accuse you of great 
 unkindness in refusing us the pleasure of 
 seeing you this night. ... If you will not 
 come to us to-morrow morning very early we 
 shall be at Mount Vernon. 
 
 "Sallie Fairfax. 
 "Ann Spearing 
 "Eliz'th. Dent." 
 
 Here was another sort of harvest from the 
 French and Indian wars : four bullets 
 through his coat, and two horses shot under 
 him, atoned for bashfulness somewhat — 
 
 7^ 
 
Seven perhaps had somewhat cured bashfulness, 
 
 ^^ f and so changed his aspect to the female eye, 
 
 that if they could not quite marry him, they 
 almost would. 
 
 Alleviations did not prevent him from 
 promptly starting reform in the militia laws 
 to insure more strict instruction; the French 
 and Indian War still framed the colonies in 
 from North to South with a band of fire 
 and death, and presently the young com- 
 mander of Virginia's forces is riding forth 
 upon a military mission to Boston, with many 
 alleviations by the way, as his list of expenses 
 discloses: "For treating ladies to Micro- 
 cosm 1.8; loss at cards 8.; for a Hatt . . . 
 for silver lace . . . for 2 pr. of Gloves . . . 
 for Cockades . . . for Breeches buckle" 
 etc., — here are the relaxations of the stately 
 but convivial young dandy, as he passes 
 through Philadelphia and New York on his 
 journey. There are no bullet-holes in those 
 coats; but an arrow from Cupid seems again 
 72 
 
to have made a rent in one of them while Seven 
 
 he was in New York. S\ 
 
 yvasntngton 
 
 It was, however, still a young bachelor 
 who went from these agreeable distractions 
 back into the bloody Indian wars, where his 
 manly heart was soon moved to its depths by 
 pity. He writes Dinwiddie: "I am too little 
 acquainted, Sir, with pathetic language, to 
 attempt a description of the people's dis- 
 tresses ... but ... I would be a willing 
 offering to savage fury, and die by inches to 
 save a people." He continued to taste the 
 superciliousness of "Regular" toward "Pro- 
 vincial" officers (England's dense arrogance 
 was laying up for her a cumulative retribution 
 in the colonial heart), and for the first time 
 he came in for the public servant's inevitable 
 portion of newspaper abuse. This mongrel, 
 heel-snapping breed of injustice nearly cost 
 the colony his services; he declared that 
 nothing but the danger of the times pre- 
 vented his instant resignation. While re- 
 
 73 
 
Seven cruiting, he had been perforce summary both 
 
 ■^^"^/•^ as to man and horses, and the drunkenness 
 
 Jrashtngton 
 
 of his soldiers at Winchester had driven him 
 to speak excellent but incautious words of 
 "Tippling House-keepers." This brought a 
 violent unpopularity down upon him; it is 
 at this day most comical to read that they 
 threatened to blow out his brains ! Many 
 incidents at this time show that high temper 
 of his to have been shrewdly tried, and to 
 have flashed out now and then, — as, for 
 instance, in these angry sentences : — 
 
 "Your favor . . . came to hand. ... In 
 answer to that part, which relates to Colonel 
 Corbin's gross and infamous reflection on 
 my conduct last Spring, it will be needless, I 
 dare say, to observe further at this time, 
 than that the liberty, which he has been 
 pleased to allow himself in sporting with my 
 character, is little else than a comic enter- 
 tainment, discovering at once ... his in- 
 violable love of truth, his unfathomable 
 74 
 
knowledge, and the masterly strokes of his Seven 
 
 Wisdom m displaymp; it. „^ , . 
 
 ^ J ^ Washington 
 
 At this time tired with campaigning, he 
 was evidently made ill by worry over Gover- 
 nor Dinwiddie's treacherous hostility toward 
 him; he was obliged to leave his post and 
 go to Mount Vernon to recover his strength. 
 But political treachery and hostility were 
 again excellent things to become inured to, 
 else later, when our country's life depended 
 on him alone, they might have proved too 
 much for his unschooled endurance; nor 
 should there go unmentioned, among the 
 various branches of his education during 
 these years of apprenticeship, a control of 
 temper that would have been less perfect 
 had it been more complete; there are times 
 when it is best a man should let loose his 
 rage. 
 
 It was nearly six months before his health 
 allowed him to resume his duties at Rich- 
 mond, at which time we find another lady in 
 
 75 
 
Seven the case, and she seems to have listened to 
 
 Jf\ him more seriously than did her several 
 
 Washington 
 
 predecessors. Was it fame ? or had he 
 learned the art better ? or was it that an ill- 
 used, invalid young Washington was more 
 than the female heart could withstand ? 
 No written documents guide us among these 
 surmises. Besides love-making, he was busy 
 again with soldiers, and had a troop dressed 
 in Indian hunting garb, remarking that 
 "convenience rather than show . . . should 
 be consulted." In the Revolution, he rec- 
 ommended this dress again, for the sake of 
 its lightness and general practicability, with 
 some characteristic words on the value of 
 form in military dress, but the greater im- 
 portance of utility. 
 
 At last Fort Duquesne fell (it became Fort 
 Pitt, and then Pittsburg) and the long tale 
 of helpless citizens, ill-fed troops, and political 
 incompetence came to an end. The bitter 
 it held for Washington was surely surpassed 
 
 76 
 
by the sweet: esteem and recognition from Seven 
 thousands everywhere, far beyond Virginia's ^^^'J^^^^^ 
 boundaries, crowned by that final, that per- 
 fect, that unique tribute from the Speaker 
 of the House of Burgesses, upon his installa- 
 tion as a member of that body. He had 
 met one sweeping defeat at the polls, when 
 the "Tippling House-keepers" had taken 
 their revenge on him; but now this had been 
 reversed by an equally sweeping victory. 
 It was in WilHamsburg, in May, 1759, when 
 Washington was twenty-seven years old, and 
 commander-in-chief of all Virginia; when 
 his first war was over, when Montcalm and 
 Wolfe had fallen. In the House of Burgesses, 
 Mr. Robinson, the speaker, had greeted the 
 young member with such praise and welcome 
 in Virginia's name, that Washington was 
 overcome. He rose, attempted to reply, 
 blushed, and speech failed him. "Sit down, 
 Mr. Washington," said the speaker, "your 
 modesty is equal to your valor, and that 
 77 
 
Seven surpasses the power of any language that I 
 
 Ages of „ 
 
 * - : possess. 
 
 vVasntngton * 
 
 The mind, full of all that has happened to 
 
 us since that May morning when the young 
 
 Father of his Country stood in the House of 
 
 Burgesses at Williamsburg, cannot dwell 
 
 upon the scene without the heart being 
 
 affected; Speaker Robinson spoke true. 
 
 Does history contain, anywhere, a wreath of 
 
 words more beautiful, which time has only 
 
 set more surely upon its wearer's head ? 
 
 We leave him standing among the Burgesses, 
 
 tall with his six-foot three, strong and straight 
 
 from his campaigns, grown comely and 
 
 commanding, slender but large-made, a 
 
 beautiful serene width between his eyes, 
 
 blushing and trembling because they had 
 
 praised him to his face. 
 
 78 
 
IV. THE MARRIED MAN 
 
IV 
 
 " Mount Vernon, 20 September, 1759. Seven 
 
 "... The Scale of Fortune in Amer- "^^es of 
 
 Washington 
 ica is turned greatly in our favor, and success 
 
 is become the boon Companion of your 
 Fortunate Generals. ... I am now, I 
 believe, fixed at this seat with an agreeable 
 Consort for Life. And hope to find more 
 happiness in retirement than I ever experi- 
 enced amidst a wide and bustling world." 
 
 The invalid had prevailed in his courting; 
 he had been married on the 6th of the pre- 
 ceding January to Martha Custis, widow of 
 David Parke Custis, and daughter of John 
 Dandridge. She brought to him and Mount 
 Vernon a considerable fortune, and she made 
 later a gracious and dignified figure as the 
 President's wife. Few of her words or acts 
 81 
 
Seven ate recorded, but her discretion has come 
 
 ^f^\ down to us. In the mind's eye of the Nation 
 
 yyasntngton -^ 
 
 she sits forever, serene and kindly in her 
 white cap and kerchief, our country's first 
 hostess. The gentle haze of legend benefi- 
 cently keeps her, as she should be, a living 
 but quiet spirit, watching from the soft 
 twilight of her privacy the destinies of the 
 Republic she played her part in founding. 
 
 It is no great strain of metaphor to say that 
 Washington had now his first chance to sit 
 down since the days when he had pored over 
 his school copy-book; in very truth it made 
 a sort of pause, a breath-taking, between the 
 backwoods and the Revolution, and he loved 
 it best of all. That phrase about his hoping 
 to find more happiness in retirement than in 
 a wide and bustling world was not an elegant 
 moral sentiment written because it was then 
 the heyday of elegant moral sentiments in 
 epistolary prose. His letters certainly show 
 this prevailing fashion of the time, but far 
 82 
 
less than those of Jefferson, for example, — Seven 
 
 less than almost any one's, — their sentences S\ 
 
 -' kvasnington 
 
 generally bearing very directly on some point 
 of vital public or private necessity. He loved 
 Mount Vernon ; to be there with his garden, 
 and his crops, and his animals, was his deep- 
 est heart's desire, and we do not need his 
 word for it. Were his writings not full of 
 the conscious and unconscious delight in it, 
 and yearning for it, his conduct would be 
 enough ; whenever he can, he is always going 
 back there, and when public service prevents, 
 sighs often escape him in familiar letters — 
 letters that he signs "With affectionate re- 
 gard, I am always yours" instead of "I 
 am &c.," or "I am, dear Sir, your most 
 obedient &c.," or any of those reticent 
 formulas he more commonly uses. It would 
 not be ill (in a more elaborate account of him) 
 to present in gradation the various manners 
 in which he would close a letter; they reveal 
 much of him and of the situation, from the 
 
 83 
 
Seven "I am &c.," up to the rare "Yours afFection- 
 
 Jr^^ f. ately," passing on the way such occasions as 
 
 when an unknown lady has sent him a poem, 
 or when the poHtical matter is very dehcate, 
 and the person a foreigner of distinction, 
 when he will say: "It affords an occasion 
 also of assuring you, that, with sentiments 
 of the highest esteem and greatest respect, 
 I have the honor to be, &c." 
 
 For a while it was now his lot to be gen- 
 erally at Mount Vernon instead of hurrying 
 somewhere on a horse with ragged soldiers 
 behind him; this domestic and pastoral 
 pause of about six years makes the longest 
 parenthesis in the rush of his public existence 
 that he ever knew. Its quiet was the quiet 
 of deep growth in character. We have seen 
 that he entered it a large man ; he came out 
 of it a great man, ready for what awaited him. 
 The process is to us invisible; he never set 
 down his meditations, and the hairbreadth 
 steps of increase elude the eye as Spring does 
 
 84 
 
in turning to Summer; but evidently he pon- Seven 
 
 dered, reached conclusions, ripened much, was rf^\ 
 
 Washington 
 
 but little aware of it, and set no value upon 
 it at all as a matter of any possible interest 
 to others. And certainly he would have re- 
 sented inquiries of a personal sort as unwar- 
 rantable invasions of his privacy. Once in 
 later life, his silence when some of the clergy 
 endeavored to force him to declare his reli- 
 gious views, very plainly told them that he 
 considered their attempt a piece of imperti- 
 nence. It is singular that he should have 
 been made out a devout churchman by some, 
 and an atheist by others, when his own acts 
 and writings perfectly indicate what he was. 
 He gave up taking the Communion in middle 
 life; he attended church regularly as Presi- 
 dent, and not at all so when living at Mount 
 Vernon ; in dying, he said nothing about re- 
 ligion. His nature was deeply reverent, and 
 his letters so abound in evidences of this that 
 choosing among them is hard : — 
 
 85 
 
Seven (^77^) "The hand of Providence has been 
 
 \£^\. so conspicuous in all this, that he must be 
 
 frashtngton ^ 
 
 worse than an infidel that lacks faith, and 
 more than wicked, that has not gratitude 
 enough to acknowledge his obligations." 
 
 (1791) "The great Ruler of events will 
 not permit the happiness of so many millions 
 to be destroyed." 
 
 (1792) "But as the All-wise Disposer of 
 events has hitherto watched over my steps, 
 I trust, that, in the important one I may be 
 soon called upon to take, he will mark the 
 course so plainly as that I cannot mistake the 
 way." 
 
 (1794) "At disappointments and losses 
 which are the effects of providential acts, 
 I never repine, because I am sure the alwise 
 disposer of events knows better than we do, 
 what is best for us, or what we deserve." 
 
 These sentences are intentionally not taken 
 from public papers, or formal letters, where 
 convention might be the reason for their 
 86 
 
existence, but from letters to friends where Seven 
 
 nothinp; of the sort was demanded: they ^^^ °J 
 
 ^ •' Washington 
 
 are therefore spontaneous expressions, as is 
 this final one, written at a time of great stress : 
 
 (1798) "While I, believing that man was 
 not designed by the all-wise Creator to live 
 for himself alone, prepare for the worst that 
 can happen." These words probably state 
 Washington's creed as nearly and fully as 
 it could be expressed; certainly his deeds 
 square with them fully. Do we count among 
 our public men any who lived less for himself 
 alone ? 
 
 But in these six years of quiet that he now 
 entered upon at Mount Vernon he was able 
 to follow his inclinations, his private taste, to 
 live for himself while the calm between the 
 end of the French and Indian War and the 
 beginning of the Revolution lasted. He 
 must have enjoyed the absence of some 
 things quite as much as the presence of others 
 — he must, for instance, have basked in the 
 
 87 
 
Seven cessation of public criticism. It would be 
 
 Jf\°^ a great blunder to think of him as a man 
 
 yVashington ° 
 
 without nerves; he was exceedingly sensitive. 
 This quality, perhaps, does not seem to fit 
 with what he was else : a man of far larger 
 frame than common — his measure after 
 death being six feet three and a half inches — 
 with life-long sporting and outdoor tastes, 
 with a brain that worked by slow firm steps 
 to secure conclusions; a man of moderation 
 in food and drink, though a lover of con- 
 viviality, a natural leader, with almost in- 
 destructible endurance of body, and com- 
 pletely indestructible endurance of spirit. 
 This is a character we should imagine imper- 
 vious to carp and cavil, being made of such 
 stern stuff; but it will not do to trust imagi- 
 nation in these matters. It was in their fool- 
 ish attempt to make of Washington what they 
 imagined he ought to be — edifyingly super- 
 human — that his early biographers missed 
 making him alive. The man himself, as he 
 88 
 
has written himself unwittingly down for Seven 
 
 ever in his letters and diaries — chokeful Jf^ , 
 
 Washington 
 
 of vigor, nobility, kindness, public spirit, 
 now breaking out in a fury at some news- 
 paper attack, and now indulging in sedate 
 fun (somewhat broad at times) — such a 
 man is far more edifying than any concocted 
 figurehead of monotonously calm superiority. 
 It has already been said that Washington's 
 ill-health at the close of the French and 
 Indian wars was more owing to mental 
 strain over the bad treatment he received at 
 Governor Dinwiddie's hands than to physical 
 hardship, and that he entertained thoughts 
 of resigning which were expelled only by 
 his sense of patriotic responsibility. When 
 this was past, he did resign. We have also 
 seen his trembling and stammering under 
 the embarrassment of praise in public, 
 and we shall see later his explosion of rage 
 at a political cartoon shown him during a 
 cabinet meeting. During the Revolution, 
 
 89 
 
Seven he had a tifF with Hamilton, and Hamilton 
 
 Jges of 
 Washington 
 
 went off in a huff; almost at once Washington 
 sent a message of amend to his fiery young 
 subordinate. It was a plain case of impatience 
 on the General's part, and is another instance 
 of his nerves. Jefferson wrote that he was the 
 most sensitive man to criticism that he knew. 
 But better than other men's opinions as to 
 this is what he writes himself. On receiving 
 in December 1795, from the General Assem- 
 bly of Maryland, a declaration of loyalty and 
 reliance, he responded to the governor : — 
 
 "At any time the expression of such a 
 sentiment would have been considered as 
 highly honorable and flattering. At the 
 present, when the voice of malignancy is so 
 high-toned ... it is peculiarly grateful to 
 my sensibility." 
 
 Still more freely does he unveil his heart 
 to a nearer friend in 1796, and this passage 
 is worth a dozen opinions : — 
 
 "Having from a variety of reasons (among 
 90 
 
which a disinclination to be longer buffeted Seven 
 
 in the public prints by a set of infamous «^^-^^ 
 
 ■' Washington 
 
 scribblers) taken my ultimate determination 
 'to seek the post of honor in a private station/ 
 I regret exceedingly I did not publish my 
 valedictory address the day after the ad- 
 journment of Congress. ... It might have 
 prevented the remarks which, more than 
 probable, will follow a late annunciation — 
 namely, that I delayed it long enough to see 
 that the current was turned against me, 
 before I declared my intention to decline." 
 We find him, then, at sixty-seven, shrink- 
 ing from the "infamous scribblers" just as 
 he had done at twenty-seven — sensitive all 
 his life long, in spite of honors won, and 
 the seasoning of struggle and of age. These 
 are the things, these contrasts, these seem- 
 ing contradictions in character, that strike 
 the flash of life, and let us see across the 
 long dark distance the heart of Washington 
 beating, and the blood surging to his face. 
 
 91 
 
Seven It IS fabricated consistency that kills natural 
 
 Ages of 
 
 Washington 
 
 ness. 
 
 Of his humor, if humor it may be called, 
 some instances have been already given. 
 But if V7e gather before us all the anecdotes 
 of this humor that record has preserved, and 
 consider them as a v^hole, they show rather 
 a robust sense of fun, a v^holesome power 
 to be amused (and sometimes uproariously 
 amused), than any subtle gift and perception. 
 That Elizabethan roughness in mirth which 
 surges through Shakespeare and which still 
 delights the gallery to-day, in the eighteenth 
 century still delighted the boxes as well, 
 all classes of society taking a pleasure in 
 "horse play," which a certain portion of our 
 community has now outgrown in its decadent 
 ascent from vigor to refinement. Washington 
 seldom said droll things, but enjoyed very 
 heartily the droll things of others. We have 
 the story of his laughter when a young horse 
 proved too much for a boastful rider; of his 
 92 
 
laughter at something told by a famous army Seven 
 
 raconteur while the two were crossing the Jf\. 
 
 ° Washington 
 
 Hudson together; of his laughter at a joke 
 made by a visitor which threw the whole 
 Mount Vernon family into mirth, which a 
 parrot at once imitated, when Washington 
 exclaimed: "Ah, you are a funny fellow. 
 See, even that bird is laughing at you." 
 We have also the account of how he laughed 
 at General Putnam (whom he called Old 
 Put, being fond of him) on an occasion which 
 shall be mentioned later. We have other 
 instances, all showing a power to enjoy what 
 the Shakesperian audience enjoyed in the 
 way of fun ; — in short, Washington's laughter 
 may be likened to a big bell that needs a good 
 strong hand to make it sound, and then rings 
 out far over the open fields. The light, 
 quick tinkle of our electric age was not any- 
 thing that he knew, and perhaps no story 
 about this side of his nature is more vivid 
 than one told in a foot note in the life of 
 93 
 
Seven Jeremiah Smith, twice Chief Justice of New 
 
 g^^ ¥ Hampshire, and a visitor at Mount Vernon 
 
 Washington ^ 
 
 in 1797. 
 
 "Judge Marshall and Judge Washington 
 (the General's nephew Bushrod) were on 
 their way to Mount Vernon, attended by a 
 servant who had the charge of a large port- 
 manteau containing their clothes. At their 
 last stopping place there happened to be a 
 Scotch pedlar, with a pack of goods which 
 resembled their portmanteau. The roads 
 were very dusty, and a little before reaching 
 the general's, they, thinking it hardly re- 
 spectful to present themselves as they were, 
 stopped in a neighboring wood to change their 
 clothes. The colored man got down his 
 portmanteau, and just as they had prepared 
 themselves for the new garments, out flew 
 some fancy soap and various other articles 
 belonging to the pedlar, whose goods had 
 been brought on instead of their own. They 
 were so struck by the consternation of their 
 94 
 
servant, and the ludicrousness of their own Seven 
 
 position, beinp; there naked, that they burst -^^^ ^ 
 ^ "^ Washington 
 
 into loud and repeated shouts of laughter. 
 Washington, who happened to be out upon 
 his grounds near by, heard the noise, and came 
 to see what might be the occasion of it, when, 
 finding his friends in that strange plight, he 
 was so overcome with laughter, that he ac- 
 tually rolled upon the ground." 
 
 Here, then, is an aspect of the Father of 
 his Country that has been sedulously kept 
 from all the generations of those whom the 
 priggish, sickening, cherry-tree invention has 
 turned away from loving him for being like 
 themselves after all, and who have given him, 
 instead of their love, only a perfunctory, 
 uninterested respect. 
 
 Judge Marshall saw him roll on the ground, 
 but Judge Marshall nevertheless told a 
 friend within three months of his own death 
 that he was "never free from restraint in 
 Washington's presence — never felt quite 
 
 95 
 
Washington 
 
 S^ . at ease, such was Washington's statehness 
 
 and dignity." 
 
 Dignity and rolHng on the ground are not 
 incompatible; Washington's character is one 
 of those rare ones which not only can bear the 
 whole truth, but which gains by the whole 
 truth. Another passage from Jeremiah 
 Smith's life will give, as well and as simply 
 as any of the contemporary memories, a 
 glimpse of Washington the man, the host in 
 his own house. The visitor arrived late in 
 the afternoon — 
 
 "... And received a most cordial wel- 
 come from Washington and his lady, the 
 latter 'at this time a squat figure, without 
 any pretension to beauty, but a good motherly 
 sort of woman.' After a cup of excellent 
 tea &c., the evening passed in conversation. 
 There were present, besides the family, a 
 son of Lafayette, and another French gentle- 
 man. While they were talking, a servant 
 came into the room and said to Washington, 
 
 96 
 
*John would like the newspaper, sir.' He Seve^. 
 
 replied, *You may take it,' but after he had /f\ 
 
 ^ -^ Wasni?igto?i 
 
 gone out, said, *he had better mind his work.' 
 He then told Mr. Smith a story of his coach- 
 man, a long-tried and faithful man. One 
 very rainy day he was obliged to order his 
 carriage unexpectedly, to go a long distance 
 on business. After getting into it he per- 
 ceived that there was some delay about start- 
 ing, and putting his head out, he saw that 
 there was a great bustle among his servants, 
 who were trying to mount the coachman on 
 the box, and with much difficulty, at length 
 succeeded. 'What is the matter.?' asked the 
 general. The servants replied, that he was 
 intoxicated; 'whereupon,' said Washington 
 to Mr. Smith, 'I was tempted to say to the 
 man at once, be gone about your business.' 
 But the coachman at that moment turned 
 round and said, 'never fear, massa, I'll drive 
 you safe.' 'And I trusted him,' continued 
 Washington, 'and he never drove me better.' 
 
 97 
 
Seven "At about half past nine, Mr. Smith signi- 
 
 ^^\°^ fied his intention of retiring;, when Washine- 
 
 Washington ° ^ 
 
 ton also arose, and taking a lamp, led the 
 way to a most comfortable apartment, in 
 which was a fire brightly blazing. He 
 assured his guest that the fire *would be per- 
 fectly safe,' and intimated that he might 
 'like to keep his lamp burning through the 
 night.' In the morning, after breakfast, 
 Mr. Smith took leave, though desired to 
 prolong his visit; and a very urgent invitation 
 was given, that he should 'bring his bride to 
 see them.' Horses were brought to the door, 
 and Washington accompanied him some 
 miles on the way. *He was always,' said 
 Mr. Smith, 'dignified, and one stood a little 
 in awe of him.'" 
 
 "A little in awe;" again that touch, given 
 above by Judge Marshall, and by so many 
 others — in fact, unanimously given. That 
 Judge Marshall, himself a considerable man, 
 should have seen Washington roll on the 
 
 98 
 
ground with laughter, yet after that still Seven 
 
 never feel quite at ease in his presence is Jf^ 
 
 Washington 
 
 wonderfully significant of the majestic figure 
 that Washington must have become after 
 bearing our young country on his shoulders 
 through so many years of its weakness and 
 need. The truth is, a great man cannot do 
 great things without in a way growing apart 
 from his fellows, little as he may desire such 
 a result. For somewhat the same reason the 
 sight of a huge flood, or a deep chasm, or a 
 high mountain, inclines all save stunted 
 spirits to silence, and personal greatness dis- 
 tils inevitable constraint, and draws around 
 itself unknowingly a circle of isolation 
 that is not without its sadness. In Wash- 
 ington's very last years, we read that during 
 a dance of young people at Mount Vernon, 
 he came out of his study to take pleasure in 
 looking on, when a quiet spread over the 
 gayety of the party. It was explained that 
 his presence caused it, and then they saw 
 
 99 
 
Seven that tall, weather-beaten figure go back to 
 
 Jf\ his solitude from the lights and the laughter 
 
 Washington ^ ^ 
 
 whose brightness he was unwilling to dim. 
 
 To the little glimpse of Mount Vernon pri- 
 vacy given by Jeremiah Smith — the servant 
 asking for the newspaper, the tale of the 
 coachman, the host lighting his guest to the 
 room with the brightly burning fire — this 
 further picture is worth selecting from the 
 many that have survived. A visitor, who 
 was afflicted with a heavy cold, lay coughing 
 in his bed, unable to sleep, when he be- 
 came aware of the looming, night-clad form 
 of Washington approaching his bed-side. 
 Washington was bringing him a bowl of tea 
 which he had got out of his bed to make 
 himself for his guest's relief. 
 
 It is likely that Washington's familiar 
 talk with his friends (in those rare moments 
 when they were not all obliged to be debating 
 the gravest possible matters) was not infre- 
 quently relieved by touches of that sedately 
 
 100 
 
expressed fun which occur now and then in Seven 
 
 his letters, such as the passage about General Jf\"^ 
 
 ^ ® Washington 
 
 Braddock and the potted woodcocks. In- 
 deed, we know that he could be jocular in the 
 very heart of a crisis. On that memorable 
 night of Trenton, in the midst of the icy, 
 dangerous Delaware, he turned to Henry 
 Knox with a rough joke that still lives upon 
 the lips of men. But to men's lips it must be 
 confined; a printed page is not the place for 
 it, any more than a china-shop is the place for 
 a bull, who is an object as excellent in the 
 fields as Washington's speech was excellent 
 on the Delaware, in the presence only of 
 Knox and the boatman. His enjoyment of 
 hunt-dinners, and of those songs and jests 
 which come after them, is well known, and 
 his fondness for theatrical shows, and shows 
 in general, was life-long, as was his pleasure 
 in dancing. He danced during war, as well 
 as in peace, and up to within three years of 
 his death — that is to say, when he was 
 
 lOI 
 
Seven sixty-four years old. Perhaps none of his 
 
 .^r\ letters better shows the changing from 
 
 Washington ^ ^ 
 
 seriousness to amusement, and back again, 
 than the following to Lafayette: — 
 
 "Mount Vernon, io May, 1786. 
 
 "My dear Marquis, 
 
 "... It is one of the evils of demo- 
 cratical governments, that the people, not 
 always seeing and frequently misled, must 
 often feel before they can act right; but 
 then evils of this nature seldom fail to work 
 their own cure. It is to be lamented, never- 
 theless, that the remedies are so slow, and 
 that those who may wish to apply them sea- 
 sonably are not attended to before they 
 suffer in person, in interest, and in reputation. 
 The discerning part of the community have 
 long seen the necessity of giving adequate 
 powers to Congress for national purposes, 
 and the ignorant and designing must yield 
 102 
 
of 
 Washington 
 
 to it ere long. . . . The British still occupy Seven 
 our posts to the westward. ... It is indeed 
 evident to me that they had it in contemplation 
 to do this at the time of the treaty. The 
 expression . . . which respects the evacuation 
 ... is strongly marked with deception. I 
 have not the smallest doubt, but that every 
 secret engine is continually at work to in- 
 flame the Indian mind, with a view to keep it 
 at variance with these States for the purpose 
 of retarding our settlements to the west- 
 ward, and depriving us of the fur and peltry 
 trade of that country. 
 
 "Your assurances, my dear Marquis, re- 
 specting the male and female asses, are highly 
 pleasing to me, I shall look for them with 
 much expectation. . . . 
 
 "The Jack which I have already received 
 from Spain, in appearance is fine; but his 
 late royal master, tho' past his grand climac- 
 teric, cannot be less moved by female allure- 
 ments than he is; or when prompted can 
 103 
 
Seven proceed with more deliberation and majestic 
 
 Sr\ solemnity to the work of procreation. . . . 
 
 yvashtngton •' ^ 
 
 "... Your late purchase of an estate 
 in the colony of Cayenne, with a view of 
 emancipating the slaves on it, is a generous 
 and noble proof of your humanity. Would 
 to God a like spirit would diffuse itself 
 generally into the minds of the people of this 
 country. But I despair of seeing it. Some 
 petitions were presented to the Assembly, 
 at its last session, for the abolition of slavery, 
 but they could scarcely obtain a reading. To 
 set them afloat at once would, I really be- 
 lieve, be productive of much inconvenience 
 and mischief; but by degrees it certainly 
 might, and assuredly ought to be effected; 
 and that too by legislative authority." 
 
 The jack received from Spain was named 
 Royal Gift in honor of the King's courtesy 
 and compliment to Washington in waiving 
 the law against sending any of that particular 
 breed out of the country, and the animal was 
 104 
 
the occasion of several other passages in Seven 
 
 Washington's letters, similar in spirit to that Jf\. 
 
 ^ * Washington 
 
 in which he wrote Lafayette. 
 
 The breeding of animals was something 
 to which he much attended, he led all his 
 neighbor planters in discovering that there 
 could be no profit in tobacco, while in foreign 
 ports any flour bearing the brand "George 
 Washington, Mount Vernon," was passed 
 without further inspection, because his honest 
 goods had carried their reputation even over 
 the seas. 
 
 With his small book learning, his general 
 leaning to sport and the open air, and his 
 uncertain spelling (even in the letter about his 
 marriage, a part of which begins this chapter, 
 he speaks of London as the great Matrapolis) 
 we meet another flash of contradiction in the 
 discovery that he decidedly liked to write. 
 He plainly relished filling pages with his 
 sentiments and opinions, and that beautiful 
 manuscript of his must have been a quick 
 105 
 
 % 
 
Seven Operation, which it certainly does not seem 
 
 ^^\°-^ in appearance. Yet this, with his well-nigh 
 
 Washington * * 
 
 miraculous energy, is the only explanation 
 of how a man, so occupied in action as he 
 was, managed to pen literally thousands of 
 pages with his own hand. There can be no 
 doubt, when we turn over the fourteen 
 volumes of his published writings, each of 
 four hundred fifty pages, and by no means 
 including the entire product of his pen 
 (they omit seven hundred and one letters 
 and addresses published elsewhere), that 
 quite aside from letters of obligation, George 
 Washington enjoyed sitting down to paper, 
 quill, and ink, and that when he once got 
 under way, he was quite likely to fill the 
 sheet. Sitting down to other things was less 
 apt to be so welcome, — sitting for his 
 portrait, for instance, of which he writes : — 
 "At first I was ... as restive under the 
 operation, as a colt is of the saddle. The 
 next time I submitted very reluctantly, but 
 1 06 
 
with less flouncing. Now, no drayhorse Seven 
 
 moves more readily to his thills than I to Jf\ 
 
 Washington 
 
 the painter's chair." 
 
 In this diverting account of his own 
 progress toward resignation, we may read 
 either his recognition that as a public man he 
 must submit, or else that he came to enjoy 
 it. However this may be, his sundry con- 
 tacts with artists — painters, sculptors, and 
 architects when it came to planning the 
 Federal City (as it was called before his name 
 was given to it) — led him to form an opinion 
 of the "irritable race" which he expressed 
 with the same happy unmistakableness that 
 characterizes all his opinions : — 
 
 " It is much to be regretted, however com- 
 mon the case is, that men, who possess 
 talents which fit them for peculiar purposes, 
 should almost invariably be under the in- 
 fluence of an untoward disposition, or are 
 sottish, idle, or possessed of some other 
 disquahfication, by which they plague all 
 107 
 
Seven those with whom they are concerned. But 
 
 ^" °-^ I did not expect to have met with such per- 
 
 Washington • * 
 
 verseness in Major L'Enfant. . . /' And 
 writing two years after this about another 
 architect, his mind peeps forth again: "Some 
 difficulty arises with respect to Mr. Hallet 
 ... his feehngs should be saved and soothed 
 as much as possible." 
 
 No one seems ever to have written letters 
 more natural, more redolent of their writer, 
 than Washington ; those of many other emi- 
 nent men — Jefferson, for example — often 
 subtly betray a sense of being composed ; but 
 to read the correspondence of the master of 
 Mount Vernon is gradually to feel one's self 
 in his presence, almost as if the man were 
 sitting there, and this quality is, if possible, 
 more striking still in his domestic journal, 
 from which we give a few foreshortened 
 strokes, in order to paint Mount Vernon life 
 in his own words, written during the early 
 years of his marriage. 
 
 1 08 
 
"Several of the family were taken with the Seven 
 
 measels .... Hauled the Sein and got some ^^^\ . 
 
 ^ Washington 
 
 fish, but was near being disappointed of my 
 Boat by means of an oyster man who had 
 Iain at my Landing and plagued me a good 
 deal by his disorderly behavior .... Mrs. 
 Washington was a good deal better to-day 
 but the oyster man still continuing his Dis- 
 orderly behavior at my landing, I was obliged 
 in the most preemptory manner to order him 
 and his company away. . . . 
 
 "Went to Alexandria and saw my Tobo 
 ... in very bad order . . . visited my Planta- 
 tion. Severely reprimanded young Stephens 
 for his insolence. . . . After Breakfast . . . 
 rid out to my Plantns . . . found Stephens 
 hard at work with an ax — very extraordinary 
 this ! . . . White Frost . . . two negroes 
 sick . . . ordered them to be blooded . . . 
 Stephens at Winchester. Visited my Planta- 
 tion and found to my great surprise Stephens 
 constantly at work . . . passing by my Car- 
 109 
 
Seven penters ... I found . . . George, Tom, 
 
 S^\ Mike and young Rilly, had only hugh'd 
 
 120 foot yesterday from lo o'clock. Sat 
 down therefore, and observed — 
 
 "Tom and Mike in a less space than 30 
 minutes, cleared the bushes . . . visited my 
 plantations before sunrise, and forbid Ste- 
 phens keeping any horses upon my expense." 
 Stephens, by this time, had probably learned 
 to quake in his shoes. "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, . . . 
 
 "After several efforts to make a plow . . . 
 was feign to give it up. . . . Mrs. Posy and 
 some young woman, whose name was un- 
 known to anybody in this family, din'd here. 
 . , , Spent the greatest part of the day in 
 no 
 
making a new plow of my own invention. . . . Seven 
 
 Sat mv plow to work and found she answered ,ff\ 
 
 ■^ ^ Washington 
 
 very well. ... A messenger came to inform 
 me that my Mill was in great danger . . . 
 got there myself just time enough to give her 
 a reprieve ... by wheeling dirt into the place 
 which the water had work'd." 
 
 He took off his coat in this emergency, 
 and labored with his men, and he probably 
 did so on many another occasion. Such a 
 way of not merely owning, but mastering, 
 his property, brought him to a most thorough 
 and sagacious knowledge of the soil. It 
 were easy to overload our narrative with 
 extracts from the copious pages of his agricul- 
 tural and domestic notes, and this must not be 
 done; but to omit these altogether would 
 cause the reader to miss a direct sight of 
 Washington the farmer and of his astound- 
 ing power of detail. 
 
 "Harrowed the ground at Muddy Hole, 
 which had been twice ploughed, for Albany 
 III 
 
Washington 
 
 Seven pease in broad-cast. At Dogue Run began 
 
 H\ to sow the remainder 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. 
 Sowed in the Neck . . . next to the eleven 
 rows of millet, thirty-five rows of the rib- 
 grass seeds, three feet apart and one foot 
 asunder in the rows." (This was the 14th 
 of April, 1792.) 
 
 ^^ Corn. On rows 10 feet one way, and 
 18 inches thick single stalks; will yield 
 as much to the Acre in equal ground, as 
 at 5 feet each way with two stalks in a 
 hill; to that Potatoes, Carrots, & Pease 
 between the drilled Corn, if not exhaustive, 
 which they are declared not to be, 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 everything, which is 
 112 
 
not to remain as trees, should be taken up by Seven 
 
 the roots ... for I seriously assure you, that Jf\ 
 
 •' -^ tVashtngto?i 
 
 I had rather have one acre cleared in this 
 manner, than four in the common mode . . . 
 It is a great and very disagreeable eye-sore to 
 me, as well as a real injury in the loss of labor 
 and the crop (ultimately), and the destruction 
 of scythes, to have foul meadov^s. . . . 
 
 "You will be particularly attentive to my 
 negros 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 creatures in scarcely any 
 other light than they do a draught horse or 
 ox . . . instead of comforting and nursing 
 them when they lye on a sick bed. . . . 
 
 "Doll at the Ferry must be taught to knit, 
 and made to do a sufficient day's work of it. 
 . . . Lame Peter, if no body else will, must 
 teach her. . . . Tell house Frank I expect 
 he will lay up a more plenteous store of the 
 black common walnut. . . . 
 
 I 113 
 
Seven "The deception with respect to the pota- 
 
 Ages of 
 Washington 
 
 toes (210 instead of 418 bushels) is of a piece 
 with other practices of a similar kind ... for 
 to be plain, Alexandria is such a recepticle for 
 everything that can be filched from the right 
 owners by either blacks or whites. . . . 
 Workmen in most countries, I believe, are 
 necessary plagues; — in this, where entreaties 
 as well as money must be used to obtain their 
 work, and keep them to their duty, they 
 baffle all calculation. ... If lambs of any 
 kind have been sold ... it has not only 
 been done without my consent, but expressly 
 contrary to my orders. And sure I am, the 
 money for which they were sold never found 
 its way into my pockets. . . . And I wish 
 you would reprehend the overseers severely 
 for suffering the sheep under their respective 
 care to get so foul as I saw some when I 
 was at home. ... It is impossible for a 
 sheep to be in a thriving condition when he 
 is carrying six or eight pounds at his tale. — 
 114 
 
And how a man who has them entrusted to Seven 
 
 his care, and must have a sight of this sort S\ 
 
 ^ Washington 
 
 every day before his eyes can avoid being 
 struck with the propriety and necessity of 
 easing them of this load, is what I have often 
 wondered at. . . . 
 
 "It is to be observed, by the weekly re- 
 ports, that the sewers make only six shirts 
 a week, and the last week Carolina (without 
 being sick) made only five. Mrs. Washington 
 says their usual task was to make nine with 
 shoulder straps and good sewing. . . . 
 
 "Desire Thomas Green to date his re- 
 ports. ... I fancy it will puzzle him to 
 make out 508 feet in the twenty four 
 plank there set down. . . . How does 
 your growing wheat look at this time ? 
 I hope no appearance of the Hessian fly 
 is among it. . . . In clearing the wood, 
 mark a road by an easy and graduated 
 ascent from the marsh ... up the hollow 
 which leads into the lot beyond the fallen 
 115 
 
Seven chestnut . . . and leave the trees standing 
 
 rTr\ thick on both sides of it ... if too thick, 
 
 IVasnmgton 
 
 they can always be thinned; but, if too 
 thin, there is no remedy but time to retrieve 
 the error. . . . 
 
 "Spring Barley . . . has thriven no better 
 with me than Vetches. . . . Of the field 
 Peas of England I have more than once 
 tried, but not with encouragement to proceed. 
 . . . The practice of plowing in Buck- 
 wheat twice in a season, as a fertilizer, is 
 not new to me. . . . The cassia charmce- 
 crista, or Eastern shore Bean . . . has ob- 
 tained a higher reputation than it deserves. 
 ... I am not surprized that our mode of 
 fencing should be disgusting to a European 
 eye ... no sort of fencing is more expen- 
 sive or wasteful of timber. . . . 
 
 "I find by the reports that Sam is, in a 
 manner, always returned sick; Doll at the 
 Ferry, and several of the spinners very fre- 
 quently so, for a week at a stretch; and 
 Ii6 
 
ditcher Charles often laid up with a lame- Seven 
 
 ness. I never wish my people to work when ^^^ ^•' 
 
 Washington 
 
 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 counte- 
 nance, nor the loss of an oz. of flesh is 
 discoverable; and their allowance of pro- 
 vision is going on as if nothing ailed them. 
 . . . What sort of lameness is Dick's . . . 
 and what kind of sickness is Betty Davis's 
 . . . a more lazy, deceitful and impudent 
 huzzy is not to be found in the United States. 
 . . . I am as unwilling to have any person, 
 in my service, forced to work when they are 
 unable, as I am to have them skulk from it, 
 when they are fit for it. . . . Davy's lost 
 lambs carry with them a very suspicious 
 appearance. ... If some of the nights in 
 which . . . overseers are frolicking . . . 
 117 
 
Seven were spent in watching the barns, visiting 
 
 Ages of 
 Washington 
 
 the negro quarters at unexpected hours, way- 
 laying the roads, or contriving some device 
 by which the receivers of stolen goods might 
 be entrapped ... it would redound much 
 more to their own credit . . . than running 
 about. ... I . o . give it as a positive 
 order, that after saying what dog or dogs 
 shall remain, if any negro presumes under 
 any pretence whatsoever to preserve, or 
 bring one into the family, that he shall be 
 severely punished, and the dog hanged. I 
 was obliged to adopt this practice whilst 
 I resided at home ... for the preservation 
 of my sheep and hogs ; but I observed when 
 I was at home last, that a new set of dogs 
 was rearing up, and I intended to have spoke 
 about them. ... It is not for any good 
 purpose negros raise or keep dogs, but to 
 aid them in their night robberies; for it is 
 astonishing to see the command under which 
 their dogs are. . . . The practice of run- 
 ii8 
 
ing to stores &c. for everything that is Seven 
 
 nin 
 
 wanting, or thought to be wanting . . . has ^^^ 
 proved the destruction of many a man. . . . 
 I well know that things must be bought . . . 
 but I know also that expedients may be hit 
 upon, and things (though perhaps not quite 
 so handsome) done within ourselves, that 
 would ease the expenses of my estate very 
 considerably." 
 
 These quotations, it will be understood, 
 come from no one passage, but are taken 
 from many, written at widely different dates, 
 sometimes in the form of notes, and some- 
 times addressed to those in charge of Mount 
 Vernon when its master was obliged to be 
 away attending to the Revolution, or the 
 Constitutional Convention, or the duties of 
 President. What is here given is perhaps a 
 thousandth part of the whole, and as we dis- 
 cern Doll at the Ferry and ditcher Charles, 
 and the superfluous dogs, sitting in the back 
 paths and crossroads of Washington's im- 
 119 
 
Seven mortality, we see himself, in neither mili- 
 
 As:es of , , • i . i 
 
 ^ . tary nor state dress, but easy m his home 
 
 riding clothes, passing over his fields at sun- 
 rise, watching the Siberian wheat, pointing 
 where a new road should go, where a new tree 
 should rise, and happier in those pastoral 
 hours than his more glorious moments ever 
 beheld him. Upon this side of his life and 
 character we cannot dwell again, save now 
 and then to remind the reader that it lay 
 always in the depths of his heart, no matter 
 what else that "spark of celestial fire called 
 conscience'* might be driving him to do in 
 the service of his country; we finish our 
 detailed reference to it, with what he wrote 
 Hamilton at the time he was considering his 
 last speech to Congress. 
 
 "It must be obvious to every man, who 
 considers the agriculture of this country, 
 (even in the best improved parts of it) and 
 compares the produce of our lands with those 
 of other countries, no ways superior to them 
 
 120 
 
in natural fertility, how miserably defective Seven 
 
 we are in the management of them; and that ^^^ ^-^ 
 
 Washington 
 
 if we do not fall on a better mode of treating 
 them, how ruinous it will prove to the landed 
 interest. Ages will not produce a systematic 
 change without public attention and encour- 
 agement; but a few years more of increased 
 sterility will drive the Inhabitants of the 
 Atlantic states westwardly for support; 
 whereas if they were taught how to improve 
 the old, instead of going in pursuit of new 
 and productive soils, they would make those 
 acres which now scarcely yield them any- 
 thing, turn out beneficial to themselves — 
 to the Mechanics by supplying them with 
 the staff of life on much cheaper terms — 
 to the Merchants, by increasing their Com- 
 merce and exportation — and to the Com- 
 munity generally, by the influx of Wealth 
 resulting therefrom. In a word, it is in my 
 estimation, a great national object, and if 
 stated as fully as the occasion and circum- 
 121 
 
Seven Stances will admit, I think it must appear 
 
 As:es of >> 
 
 * -^ SO. 
 
 Washington • 
 
 At his death in 1799, plans of crops were 
 found written out for 1800, 1801, 1802, and 
 1803. 
 
 His marriage brought him no children, 
 save those of other people — two step- 
 children, and a succession of nephews, nieces, 
 grand-nephews, and grand nieces, these latter 
 littering his domestic life with the respon- 
 sibilities which their parents had failed to 
 meet. Their support and rearing were loaded 
 upon him, and strung out over a quarter of 
 a century ; some of them lived with him, and 
 he was endlessly paying out money for the 
 others — for their food, their clothes, their 
 education, and sometimes for their debts, 
 as he had likewise done on occasion for their 
 incompetent fathers. "Dear Sir [he writes 
 Samuel Washington, the son of his worthless 
 brother Samuel] I perceive by your letter of 
 the 7th Instant that you are under the same 
 122 
 
mistake that many others are — in suppos- Seven 
 
 ing that I have money always at command. J!\ 
 
 ^ •' •' Washington 
 
 The case is so much the reverse . . . that I 
 found it expedient to sell all my lands (near 
 5000 acres) in Pennsylvania ... Be assured 
 there is no practice more dangerous than 
 that of borrov^ing money (instance as proof 
 the case of your father and uncles) . . . 
 all that I shall require is, that you v^ill 
 return the net-sum when in your power, with- 
 out Interest." Many are the letters like this, 
 beginning with a lecture and ending with a 
 kindness — and many of the loans were still 
 unpaid when he died; in his will some are 
 expressly released. Nor was it his own 
 blood alone; his wife's relations come in 
 for his help, and her grandchildren. In 
 one case we find, "Mrs. Haney should en- 
 deavor to do what she can for herself — this 
 is a duty incumbent on every one; but you 
 must not let her suffer, as she has thrown 
 herself upon me." — What relation Mrs. 
 123 
 
Seven Haney was to him, nobody has been able to 
 
 Jf\ find! Though the whole of this miscella- 
 
 Wasnington ^ 
 
 neous brood of dependents did not turn out as 
 worthless as some of them did, his unceasing 
 generosity and watchful care may be said to 
 have been really rewarded in the cases only of 
 Bush rod Washington, his nephew, and Nelly 
 Custis, his wife's grand-daughter. To her 
 he was devoted, as his constant gifts, and his 
 letters, show, while of Bushrod he was both 
 proud and fond. But he had a niece Har- 
 riot, whose name ends by bringing an ex- 
 pectant smile to the lips whenever one comes 
 to a letter addressed to her or a reference made 
 to her. In her way, she evidently annoyed 
 her uncle as much as did Doll at the Ferry, or 
 the oyster man, and when one finally meets 
 a passage alluding to her conduct, which 
 "I hear with pleasure has given much satis- 
 faction to my sister,'' the smile becomes 
 laughter. When the various boys fallen 
 upon his hands begin to go to school and to 
 124 
 
college, the good Washington's letters to Seven 
 
 them abound in affectionate wise counsel as Jf\ 
 
 yvasni7igton 
 
 to their work, their play, their dress, their 
 company, their habits; twice, first to Bushrod 
 and then to George Steptoe Washington (a 
 grand-nephew) long afterward, he writes 
 that he is no stoic to ask too much of young 
 blood. Not the least touching point in the 
 many documents which record his relations 
 with all these young people is to find in his 
 expense accounts: "The Wayworn traveller, 
 a song for Miss Custis,'' and for his young 
 step-children in his early married life, "lo 
 shillings worth of Toys," " 6 little books for 
 children beginning to read," "A box of Gin- 
 gerbread Toys & Sugar Images or Comfits." 
 A passage at the close of one of his letters, 
 written when he was above sixty (with Mrs. 
 Washington in good health), gravely speculat- 
 ing upon the possibility of his marrying again, 
 is in keeping with his habit of weighing all 
 contingencies; one of his brothers had five 
 125 
 
Seven Wives, he was Mrs. Washington's second 
 
 ^^\^-^ husband, what if he survived her? He 
 
 Washington 
 
 renounces the hope of children, for, he says, 
 he would not commit the folly of taking a 
 young wife, but a partner suitable to his 
 years. The whole paragraph is a very natural 
 one, if scarcely romantic, and we may be 
 certain it would have been little pleasing to 
 Mrs. Washington. It should not be a matter 
 of regret to us, but rather one of relief, that 
 he was childless. The spectacle of a great 
 man's children and grandchildren is so 
 seldom edifying, and so often mortifying, 
 that on the whole it is better none of his 
 direct blood is among us, and that he stands 
 alone, with no weeds of posterity clogging 
 round his feet. There is but one family in 
 all America whose name forms an un- 
 broken chain of public service and honor, 
 from its progenitor to the present day; in 
 this country the abolition of primogeniture 
 makes such families well-nigh impossible, 
 126 
 
and with the gain achieved by such aboHsh- Seven 
 
 ment goes the loss of hereditary family re- ,i^\^ 
 
 ^ •' -^ Washington 
 
 sponsibility to the State, — a loss so far not 
 balanced by the civic responsibility mani- 
 fested by the American citizen as a unit. 
 The life and property of the Englishman 
 are to-day better protected than the life and 
 property of the American, and this is owing, 
 in the last analysis, to a better public opinion 
 and better legislative efficiency in England. 
 Many a "younger son" has gone into politics 
 and parHament, and shone there, because of 
 this sense of hereditary family duty to the 
 State. How many of their American equiv- 
 alents are in Congress and the Senate ? 
 
 It has been said — quite falsely — that 
 Washington made his wife unhappy. A 
 number of these scandals have a clergyman 
 for their source; but no more than some 
 lawyers can kill our ideal of Justice, are some 
 parsons able to disgust us with Religion. 
 The various tales have been tracked down 
 127 
 
Seven to the nothing they started from, even the 
 
 ^^^ °-^ apparently solid one of the Virginia tomb- 
 
 Washington ^^ J & 
 
 Stone bearing a name and the words, "The 
 natural son of Washington." There is no 
 such tombstone, and never was. Most of 
 these forgeries originated during the time 
 of the Conway cabal, when Lee (of Mon- 
 mouth dishonor), and Gates, and others 
 put their hands to anything that might hurt 
 Washington; but it was themselves that the 
 pitch ultimately defiled. Through Wash- 
 ington's forty years of married hfe there was 
 constant mutual devotion between his wife and 
 himself, reliance upon him from her, and from 
 him solicitude for her when the war kept them 
 apart, and affection when they were together. 
 While Mr. Lear, his last secretary, and Dr. 
 Craik, his warm friend and physician, were 
 at his death-bed, "fixed in silent grief, 
 Mrs. Washington, who was sitting at the foot 
 of the bed, asked with a firm and collected 
 voice, 'Is he gone?'" Mr. Lear could not 
 128 
 
speak but held up his hand as a signal that Seven 
 
 he was. "*'Tis well/ said she in a plain Jf^. 
 
 ^ vvashtngton 
 
 voice. 'All is now over. I have no more 
 trials to pass through. I shall soon follow 
 him.'" [This is from Lear's account.] And 
 on the next day, "Mrs. Washington desired 
 that a door might be made for the Vault, 
 instead of having it closed up as formerly, 
 after the body should be deposited, observing, 
 *That it will soon be necessary to open it 
 again.' From that day, she moved from 
 their room to a little room above it, which 
 had the only window in the house whence 
 his grave could be seen. There she lived 
 until she followed him." 
 
 Into the quiet of Mount Vernon, some 
 six years after Washington's marriage, broke 
 the rumors and rumblings that were to end 
 in Revolution, and from that time on his 
 mind was increasingly aroused. We may 
 perhaps set our finger upon the very day that 
 saw him waken to resentment against Eng- 
 K 129 
 
Seven land, — home as he called her to the last 
 
 ^^\°'^ possible moment, — the 2Qth of May, 176':, 
 
 Washington ^ ^ /' / J' 
 
 when the House of Burgesses at Williamsburg 
 was thrown into debate "most bloody" 
 (as Jefferson describes it) by certain seven 
 resolutions moved by an uncouth young 
 rustic of genius. Patrick Henry had already 
 severely disconcerted the established leaders 
 of Virginia by his argument in the " Parsons' 
 Cause" in December, 1763, when the wrong 
 side, through him, had won. But on this 
 occasion, by those resolutions about taxation 
 offered by this new member, and by his speech 
 
 — "if this be treason, make the most of it" 
 
 — places were changed, and Peyton Ran- 
 dolph, Richard Bland, George Wythe, and 
 Edmund Pendleton, sorely against their 
 judgment and liking at first, followed the lead 
 of Patrick Henry into the Revolution. We 
 can see the progress of Washington's mind 
 through the next ten years in brief fragments 
 of his letters — those ten years that saw 
 
 130 
 
Franklin before Parliament, the Boston Seven 
 
 "massacre" (a large name to have given it), 
 the tea tax (after w^hich Washington v^ent 
 without all taxed articles), the Burgesses' 
 many dissensions v^ith the royal governors, 
 the Boston Tea Party, the Boston Port Bill, 
 the Continental Congress to v^hich he rode 
 as delegate with Pendleton and Henry, and 
 at length the outbreak of war : — 
 
 "The Stamp Act . . . engrosses . . . con- 
 versation . . . many luxuries . . . can well 
 be dispensed with . . . where, then, is the 
 utility of these restrictions ? . . . Great Brit- 
 ian will be satisfied with nothing less than the 
 deprivation of American freedom. . . . Yet 
 arms . . . should be the last resource. . . . 
 Is it against the duty of three pence per 
 pound on tea ? . . . No, it is the right only 
 . . . Great Britian hath no more right to put 
 . . . hands into my pocket . . . than I have 
 to put hands into yours. ... I could wish, I 
 own, that the dispute had been left to poster- 
 131 
 
 Ages of 
 Washington 
 
Seven ity. . . . If it can not be arrested . . » more 
 
 Jf\ blood will be spilled . . . than history has 
 
 Washington ^ 
 
 ever yet furnished instances of in North 
 America. ... I am well satisfied that no 
 such thing is desired by any thinking man in 
 all North America . . . that it is the ardent 
 wish . . . that peace . . . upon constitu- 
 tional grounds, may be restored. ... I can 
 solemnly declare to you, that, for a year or 
 two past, there has been scarce a moment, 
 that I could properly call my own, that with 
 my own business, my present ward's, my 
 mother's, Colonel Colville's, Mrs. Sawyer's, 
 Colonel Fairfax's, Colonel Monro's, and 
 . . . my brother Augustine's concerns . . . 
 together with the share I take in public 
 affairs ... I have really been deprived of 
 every kind of enjoyment." 
 
 At the time he rides to the Continental 
 
 Congress, an account of him is given by a 
 
 fellow Virginian among a number of pithy 
 
 descriptions: Of Randolph, "a venerable 
 
 132 
 
man ... an honest man ... a true Roman Seven 
 
 spirit;" of Bland, "a wary, old, experienced ^^^ ^ 
 
 Washington 
 
 veteran . . . has something of the look of old 
 musty parchments, which he handleth and 
 studieth much;" of Henry, "in religious 
 matters a saint; but the very devil in politics; 
 a son of thunder;" and of Washington, "a 
 soldier, — a warrior; he is a modest man; 
 sensible; speaks little; in action cool, like 
 a bishop at his prayers." 
 
 Yes, he spoke little, and his quiet, with so 
 much wisdom behind his rare words, must 
 have been a balm in that Babel of bickering 
 and jealousy. The "Fathers" did not sit in 
 an exalted harmony of patriotism and knee- 
 breeches, as they have been too often pictured 
 to us ; it was with them a cat-and-dog affair, 
 not seldom, as it is with us ; this it is better 
 to know plainly, to save us from that shallow 
 error of lamenting that in every respect we 
 have fallen away from them. At any one 
 moment of the world, there are thousands of 
 133 
 
Seven times more fools alive than wise men, but in 
 
 Ages of 
 Washington 
 
 spite of this, we fall heirs to what the wise men 
 accomplished, while the fools' work is mostly 
 perishable in the long run. 
 
 The journal of the Continental Congress 
 discloses, in spite of its cautious meagreness, 
 that the Fathers were inharmonious. "Tues- 
 day, Sep. 6, 1774 . . . Resolved, That in 
 determining questions in this Congress, each 
 Colony or Province shall have one Vote. 
 — The Congress not being possess'd of . . . 
 materials for ascertaining the importance 
 of each Colony." "The difficulty to be met 
 was raised by Virginia, who claimed a prom- 
 inence that the delegates from other Col- 
 onies were unwilling to concede." [Con- 
 necticut delegates to Governor Trumbull, 
 Oct. 10, 1774.] We have further, and more 
 piquant, elucidations from the diary of John 
 Adams, whose nerves were frequently jangled 
 by his colleagues. "Oct. 24, Monday. In 
 Congress, nibbling and quibbling as usual 
 134 
 
There is no greater mortification than to sit Seven 
 
 with half a dozen wits deliberating: upon a S^\ 
 
 * ^ Washington 
 
 petition, address, or memorial. These great 
 wits, these subtle critics, these refined gen- 
 iuses, these learned lawyers, these wise 
 statesmen, are so fond of showing their parts 
 and powers, as to make their consultations 
 very tedious." Thus he frets, in wholesale, 
 and thus on another day he breaks out con- 
 cerning one of the delegates from South 
 Carolina: "a perfect Bob-o-Lincoln, a swal- 
 low, a sparrow, a peacock; excessively vain, 
 excessively weak, and excessively variable 
 and unsteady, jejune, inane, and puerile." 
 We need not believe that the gentleman over 
 whom John Adams pours so many epithets 
 was quite as bad as all that, when we look in 
 the face those extraordinary and peevish 
 words he wrote many years later about George 
 Washington: "I will be bolder still, Mr. 
 Taylor. Would Washington have ever been 
 commander of the revolutionary army or 
 
 135 
 
Seven president of the United States, if he had not 
 
 ^£^V married the rich widow of Mr. Custis?'' 
 
 vvasnington 
 
 He also laid Jefferson's eminence to his wife's 
 dollars. Was it because of the rich widow 
 of Mr. Custis that John Adams had himself 
 stood on the floor of Congress and nominated 
 Washington for commander-in-chief.? The 
 true reasons shall presently be made clear. 
 It may be gathered from the foregoing frag- 
 ments from the journal of the Continental 
 Congress and Adams's diary, that, beyond 
 their common enemy, England, North and 
 South had little in common; Virginia is 
 claiming a prominence that angers New 
 England, Massachusetts (in the voice of 
 John Adams) is calling South Carolina a 
 peacock, and here is the feeling of Washing- 
 ton, soon after reaching Cambridge, as to the 
 Massachusetts troops: "I dare say the men 
 would fight very well (if properly officered) 
 although they are an exceeding dirty and 
 nasty people." What do we hear in all these 
 136 
 
voices but the preluding strains of that Civil Seven 
 
 War waiting ahead of them, almost ninety Jf\ 
 
 ^ -^ Washington 
 
 years down the road of time ? But on hap- 
 pier days, the Fathers could sit in harmony, 
 and perhaps we may deem this a preluding 
 strain of the ultimate, sorely-tested Union: 
 *'Sep. 1 8, 1774- Resolved unanimously. 
 That this assembly feels deeply the suffering 
 of their countrymen in the Massachusetts 
 Bay. . . /' As to which, John Adams, in 
 his nobler mood : "This was one of the hap- 
 piest days of my life. ... I saw the tears 
 gush into the eyes of the old, grave, pacific 
 Quakers of Pennsylvania." 
 
 There was now no escape from war; 
 Washington went to Mount Vernon to pre- 
 pare for it and was there until called back 
 to Congress in Philadelphia. Again in his 
 own words we read his mind, and the quick 
 march of events: — 
 
 "(January, 1775.) I had like to have 
 forgot to express my entire approbation of 
 
 137 
 
Seven the laudable pursuit you are engaged in, of 
 
 •^^^/-^ training an independent company. ... A 
 
 Washington ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 great number of very good companies . . . 
 are now in excellent training; the people 
 being resolved, altho' they wish for nothing 
 more ardently than . . . reconciliation . . . 
 not to purchase it at the expense of their 
 liberty. . . . 
 
 " General Gage acknowledges ... his men 
 made a very precipitate retreat from Concord. 
 ... A brother's sword has been sheathed in 
 a brother's heart . . . and the peaceful plains 
 of America are either to be drenched with 
 blood, or inhabited by slaves. . . . 
 
 "(June 1 6, 1775.) Mr. President: Though 
 I am truly sensitive of the high honor done 
 me in this appointment, yet I feel great 
 distress from a consciousness that my abilities 
 . . . may not be equal to the . . . trust. . . . 
 As to pay. Sir . . . as no pecuniary consid- 
 eration could have prompted me to accept 
 this ... I do not wish to make any profit 
 
 138 
 
from it. I will keep an exact account of my Seven 
 expenses . . . and that is all I desire." (It J^^V 
 was all he desired when he became Presi- 
 dent, also.) 1 8 June, 1775. "My dearest, 
 I am now set down to write you on a subject 
 which fills me with inexpressible concern." 
 . . . 19 June, 1775 (To his brother): "Dear 
 Jack, — I have been called upon by the 
 unanimous voice of the colonies to take the 
 command of the continental army. ..." 
 19 June, 1775. "Dear Sir, I am now Im- 
 barked on a tempestuous ocean, from whence 
 perhaps no friendly harbor is to be found." 
 In spite of John Hancock's aspirations, 
 his Massachusetts colleague, John Adams, 
 had nominated the Virginian, triumphing 
 over his frequent provincial narrowness with 
 a generous and patriotic breadth. Since 
 Braddock's defeat, Washington had been the 
 greatest military figure in the colonies, his 
 presence in Philadelphia had commanded 
 new respect from those gathered there, and 
 139 
 
Seven no Other American had the authority and 
 
 Jf\ the followino; to override all jealousies and 
 
 Washington ^ *' 
 
 unite all views. John Adams sav^ this, 
 and certainly of him it may be said that the 
 good he did lives after him, v^hile it is rather 
 the evil that is interred w^ith his bones. — 
 When Washington heard his name come from 
 Adams's lips, he took himself hastily out of 
 the room; indeed, tradition says that he 
 ran ! 
 
 Since that May day in Williamsburg, 
 1759, when he blushed and took his seat in 
 the House of Burgesses, sixteen years had 
 gone over his head. He was now forty-three, 
 his figure not more filled out than formerly — 
 it never became so — and he was as straight 
 and strong as ever. But although his plan- 
 tation, and riding out before sunrise, and 
 hauling the seine, duck shooting, fox-hunting, 
 the oyster man, — all these had kept his 
 health vigorous and his muscles trained, 
 his eyes had looked upon approaching storm, 
 140 
 
his mind had been hot over the mother Seven 
 
 country's attack on the core of her child's Jf\ 
 
 -' Washington 
 
 Hberty ("every act of authority of one man 
 over another for w^hich there is not absolute 
 necessity is tyrannical," as Beccaria had put 
 it), and his heart v^as sore night and day at 
 the thought of breaking with that mother 
 country. As he was leaving Philadelphia 
 for Boston, came the news of Bunker Hill, 
 whereat he asked instantly, had the militia 
 behaved itself ? " The Hberties of the country 
 are safe!" he exclaimed, on learning of the 
 men's brave conduct. He was a true prophet, 
 but much lay between that word and the 
 goal; we may be sure that his serenity of 
 countenance, of which so many have spoken, 
 was a very grave serenity on the 2d of July, 
 1775. As the guns of Cambridge thundered 
 for the arriving commander-in-chief, what- 
 ever the bows he made to the admiring 
 ladies who looked on, such bows were some- 
 thing of a mask to his preoccupations, when 
 141 
 
Seven 
 Ages of 
 Washington 
 
 he saw the ragged, gaunt, ill-disciplined 
 troops, and remembered that there had been 
 a total of four barrels of powder in New York 
 when he passed through that city on his way 
 to this army. He took command the next 
 day. 
 
 142 
 
V. THE COMMANDER 
 
From Napoleon's sneer at this war, which ^^ven 
 Washington now headed till December, 1783, 7^ 7. 
 to Lafayette's gallant and true retort to 
 it, our Revolution has borne every grade 
 of epithet, kind and unkind — as, a war 
 of outposts, a war of skirmishes, a war of 
 retreats, a war of observation. The last 
 is as just a summary of so miscellaneous 
 and outspread a story as could well be hit 
 on; but what matters any name for a fact 
 so portentous in human history ? As a 
 war, its real military aspect is slowly emerging 
 from the myth of uninterrupted patriotism 
 and glory, universally taught to school 
 children; its political hue is still thickly 
 painted and varnished over by our writers. 
 How many Americans know, for instance. 
 
Seven that England was at first extremely lenient 
 
 Washin to ^^ ^^ *'' ^^"g^^ "^ (until 1 778) with one hand 
 in a glove, and an olive branch in the other ? 
 had any wish rather than to crush us; had no 
 wish save to argue us back into the fold, 
 and enforce argument with an occasional 
 victory not followed up ? that in our counsels, 
 the determination to be deaf to such argu- 
 ment was not at all times unswerving ? and 
 that had England once consented to keep 
 the hands of ParHament off us, it is more 
 than possible we should have agreed to re- 
 main "within the empire" on those terms? 
 How many know the English politics that 
 lay behind Howe's conduct after the battles 
 of Long Island, Brandywine, and German- 
 town — lay behind his whole easy-going 
 sojourn in this country ? Such acts as the 
 burning of Falmouth (now Portland) and of 
 Norfolk had not the sanction either of 
 his policy or Lord North's; but they made, 
 in Washington's phrase, "fiery arguments" 
 146 
 
to sustain our cause. For any American Seven 
 
 historian to speak the truth on these matters ^^^ V 
 
 * Washington 
 
 is a very recent phenomenon, their common 
 design having been to leave out any facts 
 which spoil the political picture of the Revo- 
 lution they chose to paint for our edification : 
 a ferocious, blood-shot tyrant on the one side, 
 and on the other a compact band of " Fathers," 
 down-trodden and martyred, yet with im- 
 peccable linen and bland legs. A wrong 
 conception even of the Declaration of In- 
 dependence as Jefferson's original invention 
 still prevails; Jefferson merely drafted the 
 document, expressing ideas well estabhshed in 
 the contemporary air. Let us suppose that 
 some leader of our own time were to write: 
 \"Tljree dangers to-day threaten the United 
 States, any one of which could be fatal : unscru- 
 pulous Capital, destroying man's liberty to com- 
 pete; unscrupulous Labor, destroying man's 
 liberty to work; and undesirable Immigration, 
 in which four years of naturalization are not 
 147 
 
Seven goi^^g to counteract four hundred years of 
 
 Jf^ f heredity. Unless the people check all of 
 
 Jr ashing ton -^ * ^ 
 
 these, American liberty will become extinct;" 
 — if some one were to write a new Declara- 
 tion of Independence, containing such sen- 
 tences, he could not claim originality for them; 
 he would be merely stating ideas that are 
 among us everywhere. This is what Jeffer- 
 son did, writing his sentences loosely, be- 
 cause the ideas they expressed were so famil- 
 iar as to render exact definitions needless. 
 Mr. Sydney George Fisher throws all these 
 new lights upon the Revolution, which may 
 perhaps (in its physical aspect) be likened 
 to the gradual wanderings of a half-starved, 
 half-naked man from Massachusetts through 
 New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania, 
 down to the Virginia peninsula, where at 
 length he corners his well-fed enemy, and 
 defeats him. 
 
 Lucky it is that the day of desperation and 
 distrust did not set in during those first 
 148 
 
Ages of 
 Washington 
 
 months of Washington's command. From the Seven 
 early moments of his ordering Indian hunt- 
 ing shirts for the army, in order to aboHsh 
 provincial distinctions, and deciding to be- 
 siege Boston, the men knew that a great 
 leader was come to them; this they never 
 forgot through the starvation and nakedness 
 and pennilessness, through the dismal swamp 
 of years through which they followed him. 
 Sometimes misery was too much for them, 
 and they went to their homes in despair, 
 unnerved for reenHstment, but in him they 
 did not cease to believe. With the Boston 
 siege his star rose high; he showed his best 
 powers, and successfully. He read the mind 
 of the foe, he was marvellous in keeping hi^ 
 counsels secret from foe and friend alike, 
 and his moral courage was a sort of tonic 
 in the air. Then his star — and ours — 
 began to sink, helped by the great disap- 
 pointment, which followed the great hope 
 of Canada's conquest. He had written the 
 149 
 
Seven noble and sorely troubled Schuyler, whose 
 
 Ages of 
 Washington 
 
 experiences were proving almost too bitter 
 for him, "We must bear up . . . and make 
 the best of mankind as they are, since we 
 cannot have them as we wish," and to such 
 words Philip Schuyler's generous heart re- 
 sponded. But there was no one to prop 
 Washington thus, as the sky darkened more 
 and more; he had to be his own prop. At 
 Long Island he was outflanked and beaten, 
 the star sank lower, and by the end of 1776 
 was near setting, when in the deep blackness 
 of Congressional mistrust and military col- 
 lapse, he risked everything, and the bright 
 light of Trenton and Princeton shone upon 
 the scene. Through all this his own 
 powers showed brilliantly; the English moved 
 out of New Jersey, and our cause had a 
 precious breath of respite, while his masterly 
 strategy got him from the British that title 
 of "the Old Fox." But the star had not 
 really risen yet. The next summer, 1777, 
 150 
 
saw what malcontents always called " Fabian Seven 
 policy"; nothing good happened, and then ^j^^hfngton 
 on September lo, Brandywine happened 
 — something bad — another beating from 
 Howe, much like Long Island, not a well- 
 managed affair, only to be followed by more 
 of the same kind, bringing up with German- 
 town, October 5. It would have now been 
 black indeed, but in twelve days came that 
 great turning-point, Burgoyne's surrender 
 up in the North. At this total failure of a 
 whole British army, the world began to look 
 at us with new eyes; but it is hardly un- 
 natural that voices at home said, "No thanks 
 to Washington." His Brandywine was con- 
 trasted with Saratoga, for which the specious 
 Gates got the credit which belonged to Schuy- 
 ler and others, and then followed the Conway 
 cabal. This attempt at him behind his 
 back Washington met in a manner such 
 that there was presently nothing left of it 
 or its disgraced leaders; nor did the Valley 
 151 
 
Seven Forge winter witness nothing but evil — 
 
 Jf\f rotten as Congress became at this time, 
 Washington ° 
 
 rotten as was the commissariat, rotten as 
 was everything touched by the political hand. 
 Important people began to see one or two 
 important facts: that we had swallowed one 
 British Army, and that no British Army, 
 occupy though it might our cities for winter- 
 quarters and dancing, appeared to be able 
 to swallow us. There sat Washington at 
 Valley Forge, cold, hungry, and ragged, no 
 doubt, — but he sat there, unconquered, 
 and meanwhile our famous and priceless 
 friend Steuben had arrived with all his 
 military knowledge from Frederick the Great, 
 and was drilling those hungry patriots at 
 Valley Forge. The result showed at Mon- 
 mouth Court House, where CHnton, the new 
 general, got a bad fright and made a narrow 
 escape, which would have been no escape 
 at all, but for the treachery of Charles Lee. 
 The hand which France now took, though with 
 152 
 
D'Estaing and his ships it helped us to no Seven 
 victory, helped us most importantly at once ^^-^ y 
 
 o 
 
 in bringing to Europe a knowledge of George 
 Washington. The French officers took news 
 of his greatness and his honorable dealings 
 back with them, and in this way, too, through 
 him our star began to burn brighter. But 
 some dismal swamp was left. We sat for 
 a while at a deadlock with Britain, each side 
 watching the other, and then occurred the 
 treason of Arnold, a dark and heavy ca- 
 tastrophe. Although help from Lafayette 
 and France (where he had gone to stir it up) 
 was really about to come again, it was scarce 
 yet visible, even though Rochambeau was 
 here, and the new year, 1781, began in great 
 darkness. The soldiers had not been paid 
 a penny for twelve months, and man cannot 
 live on patriotism alone. There was mutiny, 
 not unnatural, but of frightful menace, 
 which was met by the politicians with their 
 customary impotence in the face of any great 
 
 153 
 
Seven reality. This bred more mutiny, killed 
 
 ^^\°-^ quickly by the soldierly Wayne, and in two 
 
 Washington ^ J J ■^ -^ 
 
 months the sky brightened, never to cloud 
 so thickly again. Money came from France, 
 and patriotism could at length be fed and 
 clothed; last of all, the sea was made ours 
 by France. This overbore the disaster of 
 Gates at Camden in the preceding August, 
 already somewhat cancelled by his great 
 successor Greene, and by September, Corn- 
 wallis was at Yorktown. It was a terrible 
 moment of suspense when the chance seemed 
 that the Count de Grasse, with his ships 
 that gave us the sea during that crucial 
 moment, would sail away before Washington 
 could get down from the Hudson to Vir- 
 ginia; but he waited, and on the 17th of 
 October Cornwallis surrendered. It was 
 two years before Great Britain signed the 
 treaty of peace, but with Yorktown ends the 
 war. 
 
 Let us now look at Washington himself 
 
 154 
 
briefly, through these years which have been Seven 
 
 briefly narrated. Once again we take sen- ^^^ ^ 
 
 •^ ° Washington 
 
 tences from his letters covering many months : 
 "I know the unhappy predicament I 
 stand in; I know that much is expected of 
 me ; I know, that without men, without arms, 
 without ammunition, without anything fit 
 for the accommodation of a soldier, little is to 
 be done. . . . My own situation feels so 
 irksome to me at times, that, if I did not 
 consult the public good, more than my own 
 tranquillity, I should long ere this have put 
 everything to the cast of a Dye. . . . Your 
 letter of the i8th descriptive of the jealousies 
 and uneasiness which exist among the Mem- 
 bers of Congress is really alarming — If 
 the House is divided, the fabrick must fall. 
 . . . I am sensible a retreating army Is 
 encircled with difficulties; that declining an 
 engagement subjects to general reproach, 
 and that the common cause may be affected 
 by the discouragement it may throw over 
 
 155 
 
Seven the minds of the army. Nor am I insensible 
 
 g^^ V Qf ji^g contrary effects, if a brilliant stroke 
 
 Washington '' 
 
 could be made with any possibility of success, 
 especially after our loss upon Long Island. 
 But ... I can not think it safe ... to 
 adopt a different system. . . . [This next 
 is in a very dark hour.] In confidence I 
 tell you that I was never in such an unhappy 
 divided state since I was born. To lose 
 all comfort and happiness on the one hand, 
 whilst I am now fully persuaded that under 
 such a system of management as has been 
 adopted, I can not have the least chance for 
 reputation, nor those allowances made which 
 the nature of the case requires; and to be 
 told, on the other, that if I leave the service 
 all will be lost, is, at the same time that I 
 am bereft of every peaceful moment, distress- 
 ing in a degree. But I will be done with the 
 subject, with the precaution to you that it 
 is not a fit one to be publicly known or dis- 
 cussed.'^ 
 
 156 
 
Such was the quality of this heart : to know Seven 
 
 its own pHght as clearly as that, but to go ^^\°J 
 
 ^ ^ ^ ^ Washington 
 
 Straight on, sinking self, both present and 
 future, in the cause. His secrecy, and the 
 inner state of his mind, come before us once 
 in a vividness so impressive that over the 
 well-known, oft-told Delaware crossing a 
 new light is thrown. Just before that night, 
 when politics, when the low state of the army, 
 when the dearth of all good news for many 
 months, had at last brought Washington to 
 "put everything to the cast of a Dye," a 
 Philadelphia acquaintance waited upon him. 
 "In December I visited General Washing- 
 ton in company with Col. Jos. Reed at the 
 General's quarters about lo miles above 
 Bristol, and four from the Delaware. I 
 spent a night at a farm house near to him and 
 the next morning passed near an hour with 
 him in private. He appeared much depressed 
 and lamented the ragged and dissolving state 
 of his army in affecting terms. I gave him 
 
Seven assurances of the disposition of Congress to 
 
 Jf\ support him, under his present difficulties 
 
 and distresses. While I was talking to him 
 I observed him to play with his pen and ink 
 upon several small pieces of paper. One 
 of them by accident fell upon the floor near 
 my feet. I was struck with the inscription 
 upon it. It was 'victory or death.' 
 
 "On the following evening I was ordered by 
 General Cadwalader to attend the Militia 
 at Dunk's ferry. An attempt was made to 
 cross the Delaware at that place ... in 
 order to co-operate with General Washington 
 ... in an attack upon the Hessians. . . . 
 Floating ice rendered the passage of the river 
 impracticable. . . . The next morning we 
 heard that General Washington had been 
 more successful . . . and taken one thousand 
 Hessians. ... I found that the countersign 
 of his troops of the surprize of Trenton was, 
 'Victory or Death.'" 
 
 For "near an hour," then, the Philadelphia 
 
 158 
 
acquaintance, Dr. Benjamin Rush, had sat Seven 
 
 with Washington, assurinp; him of support, Jf\°-^ 
 
 ° ° ^^ Washington 
 
 and Washington, with his mind full of 
 Trenton that was to happen in thirty-six 
 hours, had sat listening (or perhaps not 
 listening much) and scrawling on little 
 scraps of paper. Was "victory or death" 
 upon all of them, or was he writing various 
 countersigns to see how they looked ? At 
 all events, there in the three words is his 
 secret mind before Trenton, while the visitor 
 discoursed about Congress; that pen-scrib- 
 bling is a very striking instance of how, 
 when the spirit of a man is supremely con- 
 centrated, he will often perform trivial, 
 almost unconscious acts. To one familiar 
 with the relations between Washington and 
 Dr. Rush, it may occur that these lay at the 
 bottom of Washington's silence; but this 
 would be an error. Dr. Rush's attack on 
 Dr. Shippen was still to come and to create 
 in Washington the distrust made final by 
 
 159 
 
Seven Dr. Rush's attack on himself in the anonymous 
 
 rrr\ IcttcF Written to Patrick Henry. All that — 
 
 Washington -^ 
 
 the face professions of friendship and the 
 
 back-hand stab, Henry's loyalty and Wash- 
 ington's deeply moved response to it — was 
 still more than a year off, and Washington 
 would have been silent to any visitor about 
 Trenton, for silence as to his plans was 
 inveterate with him. 
 
 His bright letter to Congress the day after 
 Trenton is a marked change from his dark 
 letter the day before it, and in still greater 
 contrast with the whole darkness of his mind 
 disclosed to his brother during that black 
 December, 1776: "If every nerve is not 
 strained to recruit the new army ... I 
 think the game is pretty nearly up. . . . How- 
 ever, under a full persuasion of the justice 
 of our cause, I can not entertain an Idea that 
 it will finally sink, tho' it may remain for 
 some time under a cloud." 
 
 Von Moltke, whose word may be consid- 
 160 
 
ered as final authority, called Washington Seven 
 one of the world's very greatest strategists, Jr^\ 
 adding: "No finer movement was ever 
 executed than the retreat across the Jerseys, 
 the return across the Delaware a first time, 
 and then a second, so as to draw out the 
 enemy in a long thin line." Genius usually 
 seeks its element as a duck the water, 
 as Alexander looked for "more worlds to 
 conquer." Washington always looked for 
 Mount Vernon, always went back to his 
 crops and his trees, made war as a public 
 duty only; and his military achievement 
 seems to be the fruit, not so much of mili- 
 tary genius, but of those great powers and 
 qualities of firmness, sagacity, observation, 
 and detail, which he showed in every 
 undertaking either of war or peace, and 
 of his invaluable training in the Indian 
 wars. 
 
 That constitution, of whose strength he 
 wrote Dinwiddie in the early days, was called 
 M i6i 
 
Seven upon to meet demands as heavy as those 
 
 ^^\°-^ upon his mind; — after the defeat on Long 
 
 Washington ° 
 
 Island, for instance, he was on horseback 
 during the greater part of forty-eight hours, 
 and his abiHty to laugh uproariously some- 
 times must have been an excellent, if rare, 
 relief for him. General Putnam provided 
 one great chance for it during the Boston 
 winter, while several treacheries were being 
 unearthed. Of one of these they found the 
 missing link at quite a serious crisis, when the 
 hiding of our lack of powder was near being 
 ruined by spies. The missing link turned 
 out to be a large fat woman, and so trium- 
 phant and eager was large fat Putnam to 
 bring her quickly to headquarters, that he 
 clapped her a-straddle in front of him on 
 his horse. Washington, looking out of an 
 upper window, saw this sight approaching, 
 — an important Puritan General apparently 
 bearing the spoils of war brazenly before all 
 eyes — and it is said that he was entirely 
 162 
 
overcome, but had mastered his gravity by Seven 
 the time the missing Hnk was deposited in ri^\ 
 his presence by her assiduous and innocent 
 captor. In the midst of matters so few^ of 
 which are laughing matters, it would be agree- 
 able to tell and dwell upon every instance of 
 Washington's mirth; but the knowledge 
 must be enough, that he could and did laugh, 
 and that the incident of the fat woman is not 
 the solitary jet of hilarity whose radiance 
 twinkles in that dusk. Of the dearth of 
 powder in one instance an idea may be 
 had by this : owing to a mistake in the report 
 of the Massachusetts committee, instead of 
 four hundred and eighty-five quarter casks 
 of powder, there were only thirty-five half 
 barrels, or not a half a pound to a man. It 
 is recorded that when Washington heard this, 
 he did not utter a word for half an hour. 
 But presently in the midst of more trials we 
 find him quoting poetry, philosophically: 
 "I will not lament or repine . . . because 
 163 
 
Seven I am in a great measure a convert to 
 
 Jf\ Mr. Pope's opinion, that whatever is, is 
 
 Washington ^ ^ 
 
 right...." 
 
 To quote poetry, or make any literary 
 allusion, is so rare a thing with him in his 
 letters, that an instance of it is always a 
 slight surprise. He writes to young Custis 
 at his schooHng, "For, as Shakespeare says, 
 *He that robs me of my good name enriches 
 not himself, but renders me poor indeed,' 
 or words to that effect." In another place 
 he serves himself of Hamlet with "in my 
 mind's eye." He several times uses "under 
 the rose," and all these seem natural, save 
 for their great scarcity. But it is quite 
 astonishing to come upon "m /?f//o," and 
 one comes upon it only once. He seems 
 fond of the word " maugre," already archaic 
 in his day, and one wonders where he got it; 
 but there is one phrase he uses with such 
 evident relish, and so repeatedly, that to 
 omit the instances here would be to lose not 
 164 
 
only an Interesting little fact of his style, Seven 
 
 but a sign of something: deep in the man. It <^^^/-^ 
 
 ^ fe r Washington 
 
 is at one of the deeply disheartening hours 
 of the war that he writes George Mason from 
 Middlebrook, 27 March, 1779: "I have seen 
 without despondency even for a moment . . . • 
 the hours which America have stiled her 
 gloomy ones, but I have beheld no day since 
 the commencement of hostilities that I have 
 thought her liberties in such eminent danger 
 as at present. . . . Why do they not come 
 forth to save their Country 1 let this voice 
 my dear Sir call upon you — Jefferson 
 and others — do not from a mistaken opin- 
 ion that we are about to set down under our 
 own vine, & our own fig tree, let our hitherto 
 noble struggle end in ignom'y — believe 
 me when I tell you there is danger of it — 
 I have pretty good reasons for thinking that 
 Administration a little while ago had re- 
 solved to give the matter up, and negociate 
 a peace with us upon almost any terms; 
 
 165 
 
Seven but I shall be much mistaken if they do not 
 
 S\ riow from the present state of our currency 
 
 Washington ^ -^ 
 
 and dissensions & other circumstances push 
 matters to the utmost extremity. . . /' In 
 that ringing appeal, the pet phrase appears 
 for the first time, it would seem. And now, 
 let the others come : — 
 ' (To Oliver Wolcott.) "... but if ever 
 this happens, it must be under my own 
 vine and fig-tree." 
 
 (To David Humphreys.) "... but neither 
 came to hand until long after I had 
 left the chair of Government, and was 
 seated in the shade of my own Vine and 
 Figtree." 
 
 (To Lafayette.) "... With what con- 
 cerns myself personally, I shall not take up 
 your time further than to add, that I have 
 once more retreated to the shades of my own 
 vine and fig Tree." 
 
 (To Mrs. Sarah Fairfax.) "Worn out in 
 a manner by the toils of my past labor, 1 
 i66 
 
am again seated under my vine and fig- Seven 
 
 tree." ^<?" «^ 
 
 Washington 
 
 (To John Adams.) "It is unnecessary, I 
 hope, for me in that event to express the 
 satisfaction it will give Mrs. Washington and 
 me to see Mrs. Adams and yourself, and 
 company in the shade of our vine and fig- 
 
 tree." 
 
 (To J. Q. Adams.) "I am now as you 
 supposed the case would be when you then 
 wrote, seated under the shade of my Vine 
 and Fig-tree." 
 
 We may smile, but what a pathos is in 
 these reiterations ! They all belong to his 
 last years at Mount Vernon. 
 
 One other locution seems to have pleased 
 him, and of its several appearances we give 
 but one, from a letter to Charles Cotesworth 
 Pinckney: "P.S. — Mr. Lewis and Nelly 
 Custis fulfilled their matrimonial engagement 
 on the 22nd of February. In consequence 
 the former, having relinquished the Lapp of 
 
 167 
 
Seven Mars for the sports of Venus, has declined 
 
 ^^ !"! a Military appointment." 
 
 Scattered through his letters during the 
 period of the Revolution, we come upon 
 various apologies for real or seeming neglect 
 in hospitality, or cordiality — for failures, 
 in short, to show people the attention which 
 they had the right to expect; in these apolo- 
 gies he mentions, among other things, the 
 weight of his correspondence. As much as 
 he could he used secretaries, giving them 
 memorandums, sketched quickly in his own 
 handsome hand, with many abbreviations: 
 "The time of my arrival — The situation of 
 the Troops — Works — & things in general 
 — Enemy on Bunkers Hill. . . . Express 
 gratitude for the rediness wch. the Congress 
 & difF. Committees have shown to make 
 everything as convenient and agreeable 
 as possible. . . ." But of course he could 
 not use secretaries for everything. His brill- 
 iant contemporaries and colleagues not seldom 
 i68 
 
shook their heads solemnly over his writings ; Seven 
 
 but they need not have done so. They did Jr\ 
 
 ■' •' PVashington 
 
 so because his sagacity and moral weight so 
 stood out during these distracting times 
 that such gifted men as Jefferson and Ham- 
 ilton fell dupe to a very human instinct — 
 they wanted to find something which they 
 could do better than he could, and they 
 picked out his English style. They were 
 quite mistaken. While these collateral 
 fathers of the country could spell words 
 better than Washington, use words better 
 they could not. No better prose than his 
 was written, when he took time to it. There 
 are periods during the war (and periods 
 afterward) when controlled passion or deep 
 concern causes his language to reach the 
 highest level of expression and dignity. 
 During the Conway Cabal, in his papers 
 public and private the style rises so that 
 it would be hard to find writing to sur- 
 pass it. Specimens are too long to quote, 
 169 
 
Seven but they are easy to find in the sixth volume 
 
 J^^^ ° of his correspondence (edited by Ford), 
 
 where the reader may look especially at a 
 letter to Gates, page 362, and one to Bryan 
 Fairfax, page 389. For the lesson to political 
 manners of to-day that it contains, we quote 
 this fragment from the same volume. "If 
 General Conway means, by cool receptions, 
 mentioned in the last paragraph of his letter 
 of the 31st ultimo, that I did not receive him 
 in the language of a warm and cordial 
 friend, I readily confess the charge. I did 
 not, nor shall I ever, till I am capable of the 
 arts of dissimulation. These I despise, and 
 my feelings will not permit me to make 
 professions of friendship to the man I deem 
 my enemy, and whose system of conduct 
 forbids it." Conway was at last run to 
 earth, and his tendered resignation was 
 accepted when he did not mean it to be. 
 This so disconcerted him that he wrote saying 
 his language had been misconstrued: "I 
 170 
 
am an Irishman," he protests, "and learnt Seven 
 
 my English in France." This is probably ^^^ °-' 
 
 * -^ Washington 
 
 our only heritage of pure gayety from the 
 whole contemptible business, in which certain 
 professed friends cut so poor a figure, and 
 Lafayette, Richard Henry Lee, and Patrick 
 Henry shine so brightly. We close this 
 brief account of Washington's prose style 
 with one final sentence to show both his own 
 modesty on this head, and how needless 
 such modesty was: — 
 
 "When I look back to the length of this 
 letter, I am so much astonished and frightened 
 at it myself that I have not the courage to give 
 it a careful reading for the purpose of cor- 
 rections. You must, therefore, receive it with 
 all its imperfections, accompanied with this 
 assurance, that, though there may be in- 
 accuracies in the letter, there is not a single 
 defect in the friendship." 
 
 His whole bitterness over the Conway Ca- 
 bal is contained in one sentence written to 
 171 
 
Seven Governor Livingston, but omitted from the 
 
 Jf\ second draft of the letter: "With many, it 
 
 yvasntngton -' 
 
 is a sufficient cause to . . . wish the ruin of 
 a man, because he has been happy enough to 
 be the object of his country s favor." He 
 underHned the words himself, and this, with 
 the subsequent omission of the whole, shows 
 in a stroke his feelings and his reticence. 
 We have another graphic instance of character 
 in two notes written General Howe on the 
 same day, concerning the shorter of which the 
 Chevalier de Pontgibaud gives the following 
 account: — 
 
 "The British, occupied in the pleasures 
 which they found in Philadelphia, allowed 
 us to pass the winter in tranquillity; they 
 never spoke of the camp at Valley Forges, 
 except to joke about it, and we for our part 
 might almost have forgotten that we were 
 in the presence of an enemy if we had not 
 received a chance visitor. We were at table 
 at headquarters — that is to say in the mill, 
 172 
 
which was comfortable enough — one day, Seven 
 when a fine sporting dog, which was evidently J^^V 
 lost, came to ask for some dinner. On its 
 collar were the words, General Howe, It 
 was the British Commander's dog. It was 
 sent back under a flag of truce, and General 
 Howe replied by a warm letter of thanks to 
 this act of courtesy on the part of his enemy, 
 our general." This was Washington's note 
 to Howe: "General Washington's compli- 
 ments to General Howe, — does himself 
 the pleasure to return him a dog, which 
 accidentally fell into his hands, and, by the 
 inscription on the collar, appears to belong 
 to General Howe." The official one that was 
 written on the same day, October 6, 1777, 
 concerning depredations attributed to Amer- 
 icans and done by British, contains language 
 severely diflFerent, and would give no hint of 
 dogs and flags of truce: Washington the 
 commander, writing to Howe the commander, 
 was one thing; Washington the courteous 
 
 173 
 
Seven lover of sport, writing to Howe the owner 
 
 „5 , : of a lost dog, was another. 
 
 iVasnington ^ 
 
 The Chevaher de Pontgibaud errs, as the 
 reader will have perceived, as to the place 
 where this happened, for they were not at 
 Valley Forge so early as October, and it was 
 "near Pennibecker's Mill" — the Chevalier 
 is right about there being a mill, and the fact 
 that at Valley Forge there was also a mill 
 is what probably led to this immaterial con- 
 fusion. Washington's note proves the ac- 
 curacy of the story, and the following 
 anecdotes also narrated by de Pontgibaud 
 are as vivid, and may equally be ac- 
 cepted, whether they occurred at "Valley 
 Forges," as he called it, or not exactly 
 there. 
 
 "One day we were at dinner at head- 
 quarters; an Indian entered the room, 
 walked round the table, and seized a large 
 joint of hot roast beef. We were all much 
 surprised, but General Washington gave 
 174 
 
orders that he was not to be interfered with, Seven 
 saying laughingly, that it was apparently Jr^\ 
 the dinner hour of this Mutius Scaevola 
 of the New World. On another occasion 
 a chief came into the room where our Gen- 
 erals were holding a council of war. Wash- 
 ington, who was tall and very strong, rose, 
 coolly took the Indian by the shoulders, and 
 put him outside the door." 
 
 It may be that the degrading dissensions, 
 incompetences, and dishonesties of Congress 
 reached, about the Valley Forge period, a 
 low-water mark that they never surpassed in 
 war time (in peace time later, they did); 
 but however that is, it can scarce too much be 
 insisted that our Revolution was not a sort 
 of flawless architectural fabric, made wholly 
 of colonial pillars and patriotism, but that it 
 had a sordid, squalid back-door and prem- 
 ises, of which Gouverneur Morris writes 
 Washington: "Had our Saviour addressed 
 a Chapter to the Rulers of Mankind ... I 
 
Washington 
 
 Seven am persuaded his good sense would have 
 
 Jf\ dictated this text — be not wise overmuch. . . . 
 
 The most precious moments pass unheeded 
 away Hke vulgar Things." Such is a gentle 
 way of putting it; but hearken now to the 
 anything but gentle Washington : — 
 
 (To James Warren, 31 March, 1779.) 
 "The measure of iniquity is not yet filled 
 . . . Speculation, Peculation . . . afford 
 . . . glaring instances of its being the inter- 
 est .. . of too many ... to continue the 
 war. . . . Shall a few designing men ... to 
 gratify their own avarice, overset the goodly 
 fabric we have been rearing at the expense of 
 so much time, blood, & treasure ? And shall 
 we at last become the victims of our own 
 abominable lust of gain ? Forbid it Heaven ! 
 Forbid it all & every State in the Union ! 
 . . . Our cause is noble. It is the cause 
 of mankind. ..." 
 
 If absolutely nothing from his letters were 
 collected save passages devoted to the polit- 
 176 
 
ical iniquities, such passages would make Seven 
 
 a volume; so would the passages asking; for Jf\ 
 
 ^ ^ ^ Washington 
 
 powder, and so those asking for food and 
 clothing, and a fourth could be filled with his 
 protests against short enlistments, by reason 
 of which his army was constantly dissolving 
 in his hands. A Harvard degree, and a 
 medal from Congress (in one of its more 
 amiable and coherent moods) could not have 
 gone very far to compensate him for what he 
 was enduring. 
 
 "General Fry, that wonderful man, has 
 made a most wonderful hand of it. . . . He 
 has drawn three hundred and seventy five 
 dollars, never done one day's duty, scarce 
 been three times out of his home. ... I 
 have made a pretty good slam among such 
 kind of officers . . . having broke one Colo, 
 and two Captains for cowardly behavior ... 
 two Captains for drawing more provisions 
 and pay than they had men . . . and one 
 for being absent from his post when the enemy 
 
 N 177 
 
Seven appeared. . . . Different regiments were 
 
 ^^ ■/! upon the point of cutting each other's throats 
 
 for a few standing locusts near their encamp- 
 ment, to dress their victuals with ... it 
 will be very difficult to prevail on them to 
 remain a moment longer than they choose 
 themselves. . . . Such a dearth of public 
 spirit ... I never saw before . . . and pray 
 God I may never be witness to again. . . . 
 The Connecticut troops will be prevailed 
 upon to stay no longer than their terms. . . . 
 Could I have forseen what I have, and am 
 likely to experience, no consideration upon 
 earth should have induced me to accept this 
 command . . . but we must bear up . . . 
 and make the best of mankind as they are, 
 since we can not have them as we wish." 
 This last philosophical sentence, it will be 
 remembered, he wrote his friend General 
 Schuyler, and it is a thought we come upon 
 several times. Thus, after blowing off his 
 just rage, would he reenter the splendid 
 
 178 
 
poise of his staying-power. It is exhilarating Seven 
 
 to find him taking a "good slam" with his ^^^ ^ 
 
 Washington 
 muscles also on a certain occasion. He rode 
 
 into camp suddenly upon a fist fight, begun 
 with mere snow-balling, between some newly 
 arrived Virginians and some New England 
 men. Such a fight was of vital menace to 
 the army, full of northern and southern 
 jealousies. He leaped from his horse, 
 took two Virginians by their throats, 
 and shook them in such fashion, talking 
 the while, that in a very few moments 
 he and they were the only people left in 
 sight. 
 
 No excess of investigation (and there can 
 be such a thing) would enable us to put our 
 finger upon the moment of the lowest ebb 
 of Washington's staying-power during this 
 war of rags and starvation. There were 
 several moments of very low ebb; but tradi- 
 tion hands one down from Valley Forge, 
 connected with a white-handled pen-knife, 
 179 
 
Seven upon which small instrument the fortunes of 
 
 Jf\^-: America would seem during; that moment 
 
 Washington ° 
 
 to have hung. Together with a clock, whose 
 hands were stopped by an attending physi- 
 cian in Washington's bedroom as he ex- 
 pired, and which have marked that hour ever 
 since, this white-handled pen-knife is treas- 
 ured in the Masonic museum at Alexandria, 
 and was given to Washington by his mother 
 when he was about fifteen years old. It 
 will be remembered that, but for her, he 
 would have entered the navy in 1746. His 
 brother Lawrence had obtained for him a 
 midshipman's warrant, but it had gone much 
 further than that; the boy's kit had been 
 carried aboard, and he was himself on the 
 point of following it, when a messenger 
 from his mother overtook him, and brought 
 him her final word, so imploring, or so per- 
 emptory — tradition says not which — that 
 he abandoned his project, and went home — 
 back to more school and mathematics, as 
 180 
 
has been related early in these pages. In Seven 
 
 the next order for supplies that his mother ^^^ ^J' 
 
 Washington 
 
 sent to England, she asked for a "good pen- 
 knife." This, when it came, she gave to the 
 boy in token of his recent signal submission 
 to her, adding, "Always obey your supe- 
 riors." He carried the token all his life, and 
 to some of his intimates he from time to time 
 explained its significance. One day at Valley 
 Forge, when the more than half-naked men 
 had eaten no meat for many days, and when 
 Congress had failed once more to provide, 
 or even to suggest any way for getting, food 
 and clothes, the ebb was reached, and Wash- 
 ington wrote his resignation as commander- 
 in-chief of the army. Among the generals 
 sitting in council, Henry Knox spoke out, 
 reminding him of the pen-knife, and upon 
 Washington's asking what that had to do with 
 it, he said: "You were always to obey your 
 superiors. You were commanded to lead 
 this army. No one has commanded you to 
 i8i 
 
Seven cease leading it." Washington paused, and 
 
 Ages of 
 Washington 
 
 then answered, "There is something in that. 
 I will think it over." Half an hour later, he 
 tore his resignation to pieces. 
 
 The rumor of what he said and what he did 
 through all these hours of struggle and des- 
 peration, spread wide and far from the centre 
 of them, spread across the seas, spread to all 
 distant corners of travel, and the blunt remark 
 of a Scotchman in Key West bears witness to 
 what was thought of him by enemies of his 
 cause. News had come that Washington was 
 captured, and the Scot was sorry to hear of this, 
 "for he is too gude a mon to be hangit," he 
 said, feeHng sure this would be the prisoner's 
 fate. His renown rose to a new height in 
 that passage of diplomacy that he had with 
 Lord Howe over the manner in which he 
 should be styled in letters by the British 
 commander; after he had sent back a com- 
 munication addressed "To George Washing- 
 ton Esq'%" and a second, where the point was 
 182 
 
still dodged, *'To George Washington Esq'^^ Seven 
 
 &c. &c. &c./* Congress thanked him for thus ^f^\ 
 
 Washington 
 
 asserting his dignity, and further resolved that 
 they "have such entire confidence in his judg- 
 ment . . . they will give him no particular 
 directions." American dignity is not in- 
 variably so v^ell guarded by its soldiers, or 
 understood by its civilians. As for the 
 "entire confidence'' of Congress, that short- 
 v^inded affair soon gave out — it spent its 
 time in giving out and reviving; — presently 
 this "entire confidence" was near shifting 
 to Gates, and soon after Gates had blown 
 over came what may have been the heaviest 
 blow, personally, that Washington sustained 
 — Arnold's treason. About this, when he 
 learned it, Washington remarked, simply 
 and quietly: "Whom can we trust now.?" 
 Arnold had been a gallant fighter, in fact, a 
 brilliant fighter, and Washington and others 
 (John Adams, for instance) were of opinion 
 that his services had met poor recognition; 
 
 183 
 
Seven thus, when the bottom falseness of his nature 
 
 Jf\ was revealed suddenly, it was for a moment 
 
 IV as nington -^ 
 
 overwhelming. From such experiences he got 
 the habit of feeding upon all good news that 
 came, and making the most possible of this, 
 and the least possible of ill news; but if good 
 news had been his only nourishment, he would 
 often have starved, and the truth is, he fed 
 upon his own inexhaustible determination, 
 becoming at times in the general dearth of 
 money, food, clothing, and powder, himself 
 the only sinews of war that we possessed. 
 Yet, with this fortitude, he wept Hke a child 
 when he saw, across the Hudson, his soldiers 
 being bayoneted. In some actions he so 
 recklessly forgot himself, that they seized 
 his bridle and led him away from needless 
 exposure. It seems, too, that he was im- 
 prudent (certainly once) in cold blood. 
 Shortly before Brandywine, he was recon- 
 noitring the country near Wilmington, with 
 Greene and Lafayette. They had ridden all 
 184 
 
day, and night came, and with night a storm. Seven 
 
 from the fury of which they sought shelter in ^^\^J 
 
 ^ ^ fo Washington 
 
 a farm-house. The enemy was everywhere, 
 Hkely to capture them at any moment, and 
 this Washington knew; but nothing that 
 Greene or Lafayette said could induce him 
 to budge. He stayed on, immovably, and 
 to their dismay stayed all night. As they 
 rode away in the morning, he candidly agreed 
 that this had been most unwise and danger- 
 ous ! We can only guess at what made him 
 do such a thing. Probably he was dog-tired, 
 and found the rain very wet, and the fire very 
 dry and pleasant, and told himself that no- 
 body would be looking for him in such a 
 storm, or that if they did, he would kill them. 
 Or perhaps he told himself nothing at all 
 beyond that he would not budge from the 
 fire and the house till morning, let Greene 
 and Lafayette protest as they would. Upon 
 an occasion very similar to this, and at about 
 the same period of the war, we have his own 
 
 185 
 
of 
 Washington 
 
 Seven word for his fatigue when he stopped at 
 
 night-fall again at a house in this same tract 
 of country. It is handed down by the de- 
 scendants of this house, that one of its daugh- 
 ters, then a little girl, was all curiosity and 
 excitement upon learning who it was that her 
 elders were harboring. She begged hard for 
 a sight of the great visitor, and she had her 
 wish. "Well, my dear," said the general, 
 "you see a very tired man in a very dirty shirt." 
 Since a tale of Washington incautious has 
 been told, let it be set off by one showing the 
 shrewd wiles of that strategy for which he 
 earned his name of "The Old Fox," from 
 those whom he so constantly outwitted. 
 During the Morristown winter, when the 
 army was all but gone to nothing — some 
 three thousand men were the whole of it — 
 it was discovered a spy from Howe in New 
 York was in the camp. Washington gave 
 orders that he should be warmly treated, as 
 if taken into friendship and confidence; 
 1 86 
 
he also ordered all his colonels to make Seven 
 
 false returns of their rep;iments' strength. Jf\: 
 
 ° ^ Washington 
 
 These papers, reporting twelve thousand men 
 on duty, were left in very accessible pigeon- 
 holes in the adjutant's office. One day, while 
 the spy was chatting with the adjutant, a mes- 
 sage came from the commander requesting to 
 see the adjutant at once. Thus carefully left 
 alone in the room, the spy punctually per- 
 formed the trick he was intended to perform, 
 got at the reports, read them through (com- 
 fortable time for this was allowed him), and 
 went off happy to Howe in New York with 
 the official figures of Washington's strength 
 — twelve thousand. Soon after this another 
 spy came, a young officer, who discovered the 
 truth, and returned to Howe with it. But 
 he was not believed ; had not his predecessor 
 secured the official figures ^. Not only was he 
 discredited, but severely treated for being 
 so incompetent and dangerous a spy. 
 So Washington was not caught at Morris- 
 
 187 
 
Seven town, or at the farm-house, or anywhere, 
 
 Jf\ and amid rags and starvation brought the 
 
 Washington ° ® 
 
 war through ; hindered by a host of difficulties, 
 helped by many things — brave generals, patri- 
 otic civilians, devoted soldiers, and not a little 
 by the Whig party in England ; but most of all 
 by the huge shoulders of his own endurance. 
 How did his face look at the end of it 
 that noon in New York at a tavern down by 
 the Whitehall Ferry, the 4th of December, 
 1783 ? He was there to say good-by to his 
 assembled generals, privately, among them- 
 selves, before starting for Congress to resign 
 his commission. A boat waited to take 
 him over the river on his way to Annapolis. 
 In that tavern, Fraunce's Tavern, his generals 
 had gathered, — Knox, and the rest of those 
 dear to him. The sight of these brothers- 
 at-arms, as he entered the room, deprived 
 him of utterance; again he stood in that 
 overcome silence that the house of Burgesses 
 had known in him long ago, but it was not 
 188 
 
any more the young, blushing, brown-haired Seven 
 
 Washington. His back was not bent with the Jr\°': 
 
 ^ Wasnington 
 
 load carried since July 3, 1775, and never 
 set down; but he had looked upon much 
 death, much need, much distress, and he 
 had known disloyalty, ingratitude, and treason 
 once, in the likeness of a trusted fellow-soldier, 
 during that long journey. Benedict Arnold 
 cannot have failed to drive something into 
 Washington's soul that was not there before, 
 and now, in the tavern room with those who had 
 gone through so much with him, what sort of 
 face did he turn upon these comrades t It must 
 have been a face of many memories. He filled 
 a glass of wine and drank them his farewell. 
 "I cannot come to each of you to take my 
 leave," he said, "but shall be obliged if each 
 of you will come and take me by the hand." 
 No word was spoken after that. Each took 
 him by the hand, and then all went down to 
 the shore with him. There they stood watch- 
 ing, until the boat took him from their sight. 
 189 
 
VL THE PRESIDENT 
 
y/^. 
 
VI 
 
 He seems to have counted himself now a Seven 
 
 man whose hard work was done, whose rest ^^^ °^ 
 
 Washington 
 
 was come, a private man, for whom his vine 
 and fig-tree were at last in store; he seems 
 not in the least to have suspected that the 
 new country had further need of him, and 
 he turned his face with relief to Mount 
 Vernon. The war had used his body hard; 
 indeed, his accidental allusion, in a very 
 dangerous moment for him and the country, 
 to his impaired eyesight had saved the critical 
 situation. Between Yorktown and the sign- 
 ing of the peace, the much-enduring army . 
 thought it was time for at least a little pay, 
 but Congress, no longer quite so frightened 
 as in the days when it had fled from 
 the enemy's approach, preached sermons of 
 o 193 
 
Seven resignation, and suggested that the men 
 
 w^ h placed too high a value upon mere leaving 
 
 their homes and giving their lives. It v^as an 
 incautious hour to choose for so pious a lec- 
 ture; to the men's angry minds it occurred 
 that there v^ere not many steps to march 
 between themselves and the control of the 
 Government, and they talked of their be- 
 loved leader as Dictator. Washington's words 
 quickly burst such a bubble — but this did 
 not stop the mutinous spirit, and Congress, 
 terrified once again by an army, once again 
 had none save Washington to look to for the 
 safety of its skin. It was a last chance for the 
 intriguing Gates to rise from the discredit 
 of his defeat at Camden, and he played it to 
 the limit. His underhand counsels to the 
 men that their cause was just (which it most 
 assuredly was) and that they must demand 
 their rights, led them to open sedition, and 
 there was Washington where Gates wished 
 him to be, of necessity protecting the Govern- 
 194 
 
ment which was in the wrong, and opposing Seven 
 
 the men who loved him, and who knew the Jf\ 
 
 Washington 
 
 Government was wrong. There was an 
 hour set for him to meet them, and silence, 
 instead of shouts, was their greeting to him. 
 He had a written address prepared, but on 
 rising to begin it, the text was dim to his eyes, 
 and as he felt for his glasses in that moment 
 during which his own influence and perhaps 
 the country's fate trembled, he spoke simply 
 to the gathered and sullen soldiers the first 
 words that came to him: "I have not only 
 grown gray but blind in your service." By 
 this unpremeditated touch of nature the whole 
 trouble was melted away, the formal address 
 was needless, tears came to the men's cheeks, 
 and they were willing to be patient for their 
 leader's sake. 
 
 To Mount Vernon, then, he turned with 
 his gray hairs and weakened sight, reaching 
 there on Christmas eve, "to spend the re- 
 mainder of my days," he wrote, "in cultivat- 
 
 195 
 
Seven 
 Ages of 
 Washington 
 
 ing the aflFections of good men, and in the 
 practice of the domestic virtues. ... A 
 glass of wine and a bit of mutton are always 
 ready . . . those who expect more will be 
 disappointed." He presently revisited the 
 trails of his youth, the backwoods, returning 
 thence to the pastoral home existence that he 
 supposed he was now free to enjoy. His 
 daily rising was before the light, his corre- 
 spondence done by the half-past seven break- 
 fast, after which he rode over his fields until 
 the half-past two dinner; this was followed 
 by writing or by whist until dark. A guest 
 speaks of his agreeableness, his delighting in 
 anecdotes and adventures, silent upon all 
 personal exploits; but Miss Custis saw 
 another side, and described him as being 
 constantly thoughtful and silent, with lips 
 moving. Nothing said about him by any 
 one at any time so conveys his inward iso- 
 lation — inevitable consequence of a great 
 man's moral and mental load — as this 
 196 
 
report of the moving lips. The money Seven 
 
 Congress now offered as reward for his ser- ^^" 
 
 ° Washington 
 
 vices he decHned, although his fortune was 
 shrunk aild his estate in dilapidation from the 
 war. He speaks picturesquely of returning 
 to find his buildings suffering from many 
 wounds, and here is one of several allusions 
 to straitened circumstances : — 
 
 "... the bonds which were due to me 
 before the Revolution, were discharged during 
 the progress of it — with a few exceptions in 
 depreciated paper (in some instances as low 
 as a shilling in the pound). . . . Such has 
 been the management of my Estate ... as 
 scarcely to support itself. . . . To keep 
 myself out of debt I have found it expedient 
 now and then to sell Lands. ..." But, 
 without dwelling further upon his business 
 sense, it is enough to add that he so redeemed 
 his fortune from its serious injuries as to die 
 the second richest man in America. His 
 consummate insight regarding the western 
 197 
 
Seven 
 Ages of 
 Washington 
 
 future of the country led him to buy lands 
 along all the great rivers, from the Mohawk 
 to the Kanawha, that he foresaw must be 
 the highways of travel and commerce; in 
 some cases such lands cost him five pounds 
 the hundred acres and were sold for five 
 pounds the acre. Yet his many directions 
 as to buying and selling show him to have 
 been far above "sharp practice": "Major 
 Harrison must be sensible that no one can be 
 better acquainted with the land than I am; 
 it would be unnecessary therefore (if he has 
 any inclination to sell it) to ask a price which 
 it will not bear; but if he is disposed to take 
 a reasonable price, and will act the part of a 
 frank and candid man in fixing it, I would 
 not have you higgle (which I dislike) in 
 making a bargain." Such were his methods, 
 and his fortune came by no means hke so 
 many of those built upon dishonor at the 
 present day, but as the fair result of superior 
 sagacity and application. " Land rich," how- 
 198 
 
ever, as he died, he often Hved "land poor," Seven 
 
 and with income obhterated for a season in ^^^ ^ 
 
 Washi?igton 
 
 consequence of patriotic neglect to watch 
 his own affairs while attending to the affairs 
 of the nation; yet his need of ready money 
 did not check his aid to others in need — 
 the wife of Lafayette, for example, to whom 
 he sent two hundred guineas at once on 
 learning of her husband's imprisonment, 
 or the sufferers from pestilence in Philadel- 
 phia to whom he offered assistance through 
 Bishop White, "without ostentation or men- 
 tion of my name," as he requests the bishop. 
 Nor was it his fashion, as the mode is now, 
 to put on the mask of a benefactor and thus 
 disguised to label colleges and Hbraries with 
 his own name, thus really leaving his money 
 to himself. His gifts to education were 
 gifts, and not advertisements or obituaries. 
 Intercolonial jealousies were, as we have 
 seen, in full blossom already by 1776, and 
 now they ripened quickly to full fruit. The 
 199 
 
Seven common enemy gone, everybody had full 
 
 Jf\ time to fall upon his neighbor, and he did so, 
 
 Washington r fe ' 
 
 until they were all nearer to destroying their 
 new country than King George had been; 
 a republic is its own worst enemy, and we 
 showed this then as we show it to-day. 
 Washington would have despised the view 
 expressed by a lesser public servant: "I 
 had rather let the old ship sink, than keep 
 pumping at her all the while;" therefore he 
 tasted but little of his vine and fig-tree, and 
 soon returned to the ship and the pumping. 
 Lafayette, on December 30, 1777, had written 
 to him: "Take away for an instant that 
 modest diffidence of yourself . . . you would 
 see very plainly that if you were lost to Amer- 
 ica, there is nobody who could keep the army 
 and the revolution for six months. There 
 are open dissensions in congress, parties 
 who hate one another as much as the common 
 enemy." If Washington's modesty forbade 
 his believing this, the quarrelling factions 
 200 
 
knew it to be true; cat and dog came running Seven 
 to him, and soon he was presiding over the ^^V 
 Constitutional Convention. 
 
 And now is the time to speak of the third 
 cardinal influence in his life. It rests not on 
 a level with the others, coming upon Wash- 
 ington in the full high-noon of his growth; 
 but in clearing and shaping his mind about 
 what foundations our new government should 
 rest on, and how these should be laid, its im- 
 portance is unique. The other two were influ- 
 ences upon character^ the rules of civility and 
 the friendship of Fairfax; the third and last 
 is Alexander Hamilton. Of him, during the 
 war, we have this first glimpse recorded: — 
 
 "I noticed a youth, a mere stripling, 
 small, slender, almost delicate in frame, 
 marching beside a piece of artillery with a 
 cocked hat pulled down over his eyes, ap- 
 parently lost in thought, with his hand rest- 
 ing on the cannon, and every now and then 
 patting it as he mused, as if it were a favourite 
 
 201 
 
Seven horse or a pet plaything." This was Hamil- 
 
 Jf\ ton, not quite twenty years old. Washine- 
 
 Washmgwi ' n J J s 
 
 ton, too, caught sight of him at about this 
 time, noticing (amidst some disastrous hours 
 of fighting) how skilfully some earthworks 
 were going forward under the direction of a 
 young captain of artillery. He sent for the 
 young man, whose discourse so struck him, 
 that presently (March i, 1777) he made him 
 aide-de-camp with the rank of lieutenant 
 colonel, and next the young man, now twenty, 
 was conducting much of the correspondence 
 of the older man, now fifty-five. Nick-named 
 "the little lion" by a colleague, Hamilton 
 was soon "my boy" to Washington. The 
 boy was already famous through some 
 pamphlets, and what war did for the disci- 
 pline and development of his genius — for 
 genius he had such as none other — must have 
 been priceless to him, and so to us. What 
 his genius did for Washington was equally 
 inestimable. The coming together of these 
 202 
 
two, the seasoned, sagacious intelligence. Seven 
 
 and the winged, fiery intellect, may be ^^\°-J 
 
 ^ ' J ' / Washington 
 
 likened to some beneficent chemical union 
 between acid and alkali, producing as it did 
 the very salt of constructive common sense. 
 If this had not, on the whole, prevailed during 
 the stormy years that were now to set in, we 
 should have been to-day but another nest of 
 hornet republics, like the hemisphere to the 
 south of us, or else swallowed up by a foreign 
 power. Among the sundry passages that 
 Washington wrote about the case of the new 
 country, we take two : — 
 
 (1785.) "The war . . . has terminated 
 most advantageously for America, and a 
 fair field is presented to our view; but I 
 confess to you freely, my dear Sir, that I do 
 not think we possess wisdom or justice enough 
 to cultivate it properly. Illiberality, jealousy, 
 and local policy mix too much in all our 
 public councils for the good government of 
 the Union. . . . The confederation appears 
 203 
 
Seven . . . little more than a shadow . . . and 
 
 J^^ ^ Congress a nugatory body. . . . To me . . . 
 
 it is one of the most extraordinary things in 
 nature, that we should confederate as a 
 nation, and yet be afraid to give the rulers 
 of that nation who are the creatures of our 
 making, appointed for a limited and short 
 duration, and who are amenable for every 
 action . . . sufficient powers to order and 
 direct the affairs of the same. ... By 
 such policy ... we are descending into the 
 vale of confusion and darkness. That we 
 have it in our power to become one of the most 
 respectable nations upon earth, admits, in 
 my humble opinion, of no doubt, if we would 
 but pursue a wise, just, and liberal policy 
 towards one another, and keep good faith 
 with the rest of the world." (This sentence 
 about "good faith" arose from his seeing 
 the populist instinct not to pay your creditors 
 rapidly growing.) Later, 1787: "I almost 
 despair of seeing a favourable issue to the pro- 
 204 
 
ceedings of our convention, and do therefore Seven 
 repent having had any agency in the business. ^^ /! 
 The men who oppose a strong and energetic 
 government, are in my opinion narrow- 
 minded poHticians. . . . The apprehension 
 expressed by them, that the people will not 
 accede to the form proposed, is the osten- 
 sible, not the real cause of opposition. ... I 
 am sorry you went away. I wish you were 
 back." (This is to Hamilton.) 
 
 We find more angry and more despondent 
 words than these in his letters at this time, 
 but what has been quoted clearly shows his 
 thoughts and feelings; presently the Con- 
 stitution was adopted, and next, on April 
 14, 1789, a deputation from Congress waited 
 on him at Mount Vernon, and formally 
 announced that he was unanimously elected 
 first President of the United States. "I 
 wish,'' he replied, "that there may not be 
 reason for regretting the choice." To Knox, 
 his war comrade, he wrote: "In confidence, 
 205 
 
Seven I tell you . . . that my movement to the 
 
 ^" y chair of Government v^ill be accompanied 
 
 Washington 
 
 by feelings not unlike those of a culprit who 
 is going to the place of his execution." 
 
 Vine and fig-tree v^ere left behind in this 
 spirit, in which there is nowhere to be found 
 any sign of elation, but only personal regret 
 and unwillingness, and a solemn dedication 
 of self to the new needs of the country. 
 The greeting he met, the universal shout of 
 loyalty, when he stepped forth upon the 
 balcony at his inauguration, caused him to 
 falter and sit down, and this brought a silence 
 as intense and universal as the cheering had 
 been. Thus he took his oath, and then 
 turned to enter a maze of troubles of every 
 size and shape, from the petty follies about 
 the etiquette of his receptions to the question 
 how the American people could be persuaded 
 to pay their debts both domestic and foreign. 
 There was scarce a meanness too small or a 
 blindness too great for some of the chief 
 206 
 
citizens of that day; and everything was Seven 
 
 brought to him, or if it was not brought, S^\ 
 
 ^ ^ Washington 
 
 the responsibility of dealing with it fell 
 upon him nevertheless, and he got the blame 
 whenever any one was not pleased. "We 
 have probably had too good an opinion of 
 human nature in forming our confederation," 
 he had written a little while before, and 
 what he now began to experience was not 
 likely to disabuse him of this opinion, but 
 only to send him back to the same philosophy 
 he had once preached to General Schuyler 
 to "make the best of mankind as they are, 
 since we can not have them as we wish." 
 Etiquette, then (as to which Hamilton, 
 Adams, and Jefferson all differed), had to be 
 established, just how much and how little 
 there should be, and this practical question 
 was complicated not only by differences of 
 opinion, but by not a little false and ridiculous 
 gossip. Some of this is eagerly set down by 
 Jefferson in his book of malice that he called 
 207 
 
Seven Anas, wherein he has written himself down a 
 
 rrr^ f ^^^^^^^er to which his worst enemy could 
 
 Washington 
 
 scarce add a syllable. He describes Washing- 
 ton and Mrs. Washington as sitting on a sort 
 of throne during a ball, at which, as a matter 
 of fact, they were on the floor dancing during 
 the whole evening. Indian troubles, secretly 
 fomented by the English, harassed our 
 frontier, and a great disaster was suffered, 
 the news of which caused one of those out- 
 breaks of violent emotion to which Washing- 
 ton was subject. His general health showed 
 signs of the worries he lived daily in, among 
 which the greatest, possibly, was the problem 
 of finance. The doctrine of not paying your 
 debts was offered in various sugar-coated 
 forms of rhetoric as a principle that should 
 form part of our national policy. Taxation 
 was felt to be an insult to American freedom, 
 and a strong party came into existence whose 
 aim may be fairly said to have been to re- 
 solve our Republic into a "society for the 
 208 
 
avoidance of personal obligations" — to Seven 
 
 quote the admirable words of Mr. Oliver in Jf\ 
 
 ^ Washington 
 
 his study of Alexander Hamilton. "Ac- 
 cording to the practice of demagogy/' this 
 writer continues, "the doctrine of repudiation 
 was . . . raised to a higher moral plane. 
 In the twilight of words and phrases the 
 seductive idea, like a lady of doubtful virtue 
 and waning beauty, was arranged in a char- 
 itable and becoming shadow. . . ." Thomas 
 Jefferson favored all these things ; he worked 
 out one of his ingenious quackeries to show 
 the iniquity of creating a national debt. We 
 had no moral right to make a loan that our 
 children must pay; he produced arithmetic 
 to show that nineteen years is the length of 
 a generation, and he advocated that any 
 debt still unpaid after nineteen years should 
 be extinguished. It may be imagined how 
 attractive such a scheme would be to a " so- 
 ciety for the avoidance of personal obliga- 
 tions," and how dear to the hearts of "the 
 ^ 209 
 
Seven people" Jefferson thus made himself; it 
 
 S^^ j^ may also be imagined with what heartiness 
 
 Holland, or any other country, would have 
 responded to our appHcation for money, 
 if such doctrines had prevailed. Shea's 
 Rebellion — one of our paper-money episodes 
 of insanity, and at core a local phase of re- 
 pudiation — had a few years earlier revealed 
 the ideas of the society for the avoidance of 
 personal obligation, and for this demonstra- 
 tion Jefferson had nothing but praise. "God 
 forbid,'' he said, "that we should be twenty 
 years without a rebellion. . . . The tree 
 of liberty must be refreshed from time to 
 time with the blood of patriots and tyrants. 
 It is its natural manure." From this sprightly 
 and vivacious doctrine he excepted himself; 
 when Tarleton and his raiders came too near 
 the Virginia legislature, he fled with a prompt- 
 ness that showed conclusively he had no in- 
 tention his own blood should refresh the tree 
 of liberty. The still more comprehensive 
 
 210 
 
doctrine, that if any man happened to dis- Seven 
 
 like any law, it was his American perquisite ^^^ "^ 
 
 Washingto7i 
 and sacred right to break such law, was 
 
 another of the menacing undercurrents dur- 
 ing Washington's first term, and during his 
 second it broke out in the Whiskey Insur- 
 rection. It was deemed by true JefFer- 
 sonians, such as Edmund Randolph, a 
 despotic outrage upon liberty that troops 
 should be sent to enforce order and obedience 
 to the law. These are the "principles'* 
 that we have inherited from Thomas Jeffer- 
 son — if it can be said that he had any fixed 
 principles — and it is no wonder that he 
 remains a popular idol; the real wonder is, 
 that Washington, who threw his whole force 
 against such principles, and with Hamilton's 
 help largely defeated them, should remain 
 a popular idol too. It is most natural that 
 Hamilton, the greatest benefactor our young 
 country knew, except Washington, should have 
 no popularity whatever, although his great- 
 
 211 
 
Seven ness is beginning at last to emerge and estab- 
 
 1l\ lish itself in the general knowledge of man- 
 
 Washtngton ^ ^ 
 
 kind. Lest the reader, not fresh from any 
 first-hand examination of Jefferson, but only 
 aware of him through a sort of traditional 
 hearsay, should be tempted to doubt the 
 phrase above as to Jefferson's instability of 
 convictions, let him read and ponder the 
 following sentence : — 
 
 "When any one state in the American union 
 refuses obedience to the Confederation to 
 which they have bound themselves the rest have 
 the natural right to compell it to obedience." 
 The expounder of states-rights wrote this. It 
 may be found in Ford's " Writings of Thomas 
 Jefferson," Vol. iv, page 147. 
 
 Through Thomas Jefferson there ran one 
 sincere thread of belief — his faith in man- 
 kind, and for this he is beloved of the multi- 
 tude without any investigation as to how 
 much concrete benefit to mankind resulted 
 from his faith. Phrases indeed he coined — 
 212 
 
nobody more elegantly or prolifically, but Seven 
 
 (again to use Mr. Oliver's words) "no ■^^'' '^ 
 
 Washington 
 
 power could translate them into policy or 
 law, because they did not correspond with 
 any translatable human facts. For the greater 
 part they were only words, and for the rest 
 they were the fancies of a poet." We, far 
 away from the malice and disloyalty Jeffer- 
 son measured out not alone to his political 
 foes, but to friends of whose reputation he 
 grew jealous, can feel his personal fascina- 
 tion. Such keen outlook, such vivacious 
 curiosity as to all things, such engaging 
 fancy and diction, make him a wonderful 
 being; he stands the incomparable dabbler, 
 the illustrious dilettante, of his day. As 
 the writer of the Declaration of Indepen- 
 dence, he lives permanently with those great 
 founders of our Republic, whom we shall 
 never forget; as the consummator of the 
 Louisiana Purchase (a total departure from 
 his own "principles") we owe him equal 
 213 
 
Seven 
 Ages of 
 Washington 
 
 or deeper gratitude; but if his political co- 
 herence, his constructive statesmanship, is 
 examined, it crumbles away, leaving noth- 
 ing but a faith in mankind amid a cloud of 
 dust. 
 
 Worry over the mischief made, and the 
 more mischief attempted, by those v^ho 
 corresponded in that day to the "green- 
 backers," the ''farmers' alliance," and the 
 "populists" of later days, impaired Wash- 
 ington's health, and also fatigued and dis- 
 enchanted him in his ceaseless effort to set 
 the infant Republic on its legs. The infant 
 Republic struggled tooth and nail against 
 this; in fact, tov^ard every measure adopted 
 for its soundness and permanence, the infant 
 Republic may be likened in its conduct to an 
 ill-conditioned, squalling brat, disgusting all 
 save its most patient guardians. Washing- 
 ton v^ould have been very glad to be free of 
 the whole business; but the brat, genuinely 
 scared lest the parent whom it had been 
 214 
 
biting and scratching should abandon it Seven 
 
 to its own devices, clune; to him, not in grati- ,£^"^, 
 
 ^ ' ^ Washington 
 
 tude, but in terror. Even Jefferson, who had 
 been opposed to the Administration's policy, 
 and, though a member of the cabinet, was 
 encouraging newspaper attacks upon it — 
 if he did not actually dictate many of the 
 articles himself — even Jefferson wished 
 Washington to stay. Jefferson's most useful 
 trait, perhaps, was a power to drop all his 
 theories in the face of a crisis, and do the 
 practical thing. "North and South will 
 hang together if they have you to hang on," 
 he said ; and Washington stayed — but here 
 is how he felt: — 
 
 "To say I feel pleasure from the prospect 
 of commencing another tour of duty would 
 be a departure from truth; for, however it 
 might savor of affectation in the opinion of 
 the world (who, by the by, can only guess at 
 my sentiments, as it never has been troubled 
 with them), my particular and confidential 
 215 
 
Seven friends well know, that it was after a long and 
 
 Ages of 
 Washington 
 
 painful conflict in my own breast, that I was 
 withheld (by considerations which are not 
 necessary to be mentioned) from requesting 
 in time, that no vote might be thrown away 
 upon me, it being my fixed determination to 
 return to the walks of private life at the end 
 of my term." 
 
 But he could not do so, and well it is for 
 our present existence that he did not do so. 
 Nothing but the confidence and love he 
 filled the people with over the heads and 
 beyond the voices of the papers and politi- 
 cians could have tided us through the dangers 
 which now not only came to us without 
 invitation, but which the papers and poli- 
 ticians also loudly invited. Washington was 
 not a party man; he says of himself, "party 
 disputes are now carried to such a length, 
 and truth is so enveloped in mist and false 
 representation, that it is extremely difficult 
 to know through what channel to seek it. 
 2i6 
 
This difficulty to one who is of no party, Seven 
 
 and whose sole wish is to pursue with un- ^^^ ^ 
 
 Washington 
 
 deviating steps a path, which would lead this 
 country to respectability, wealth, and hap- 
 piness, is exceedingly to be lamented.'* In 
 this same spirit he made appointments, 
 writing a favorite nephew who had asked him 
 for one, "however deserving you may be . . . 
 your standing would not justify my nomina- 
 tion of you ... in preference to some of the 
 ablest and most esteemed . . . lawyers. . . . 
 My political conduct in nominations, even if 
 I were uninfluenced by principle, must be 
 exceedingly circumspect. . . ." The use of 
 his name in a Maryland election brought to 
 the culprit one of his very severe rebukes: 
 "I was not a little displeased to find . . . my 
 name had been freely used by you or your 
 friends . . . when I had never associated 
 your name and the election together. . . . 
 There had been the most scrupulous and 
 pointed caution ... on my part not to 
 217 
 
Seven express a sentiment respecting the fitness or 
 
 ^^\°-^ unfitness of any candidate for representation. 
 
 Washington -^ ^ 
 
 . . . The exercise of an influence would be 
 highly improper; as the people ought to be 
 entirely at liberty to chuse whom they pleased 
 to represent them in Congress." But this 
 highmindedness was lost upon the screaming 
 infant Republic, feverish with that disease 
 not yet exterminated, and always fatal if 
 not kept in check, the disease of plebiscitis. 
 Sickened by the treatment he received, 
 Washington speaks without reserve, once, to 
 Jefferson : " . . . nor did I believe until lately 
 . . . that, while I was using my utmost exer- 
 tions to establish a national character of our 
 own, independent, as far as our obligations 
 and justice would permit, of every nation of 
 the earth, . . . every act of my administra- 
 tion would be tortured . . . and that too in 
 such exaggerated and indecent terms as could 
 scarcely be applied to a Nero, a notorious 
 defaulter, or even to a common pickpocket." 
 2i8 
 
A delirious dread of Washington's becom- Seven 
 
 ing king — he pronounced it insane himself ^^^ ^ 
 
 ^ ^ ^ Washington 
 
 to Jefferson, who feared, or made believe to 
 fear it — was continually fomented by the 
 papers, of which he took no public notice; 
 but his letters are full of the evidences of his 
 feeling. "In a word," he writes Edmund 
 Randolph before the scandal of the French 
 minister had ended their relations, "if the 
 government and the offices of it are to be 
 the constant theme for newspaper abuse, 
 and this too without condescending to in- 
 vestigate the motives or the facts, it will be 
 impossible, I conceive, for any man living to 
 manage the helm or to keep the machine 
 together." 
 
 It is curious to read those newspapers of 
 the 1790's and see how much time has mod- 
 erated the violence of words, though not at 
 all the poison of slander and sensation. It 
 could not be printed to-day that "the eldest 
 son of Satan, Albert Gallatin, arrived in 
 219 
 
Seven town yesterday afternoon." They dared 
 
 ^^\°-^ not go so far with Washington's name, but 
 
 Washington ^ ^ ' 
 
 they spent much ingenuity upon him. In a 
 sort of burlesque dictionary, pubhshed in 
 Freneau's Gazette, Philadelphia, 24 April, 
 1793, we find : ^^ Great man. Excellent judge 
 of horse-flesh." And again, "Valerius" (or 
 "Brutus" or "Publius") writes: "If the 
 form of monarchy was exalted among us, a 
 national love of liberty would rally all 
 around the standard of opposition, except 
 the minions of the idol." Once more: 
 "The temple of Liberty, like that of Vesta, 
 should never be without a centinel. . . . 
 Were I to see public servants excluding 
 private citizens from their tables, I should 
 not hesitate to sound the alarm." We may 
 wonder, if every American had the right to 
 dine with his President, how long the cook 
 would stay. Let us see what the hapless 
 public servant had to say about this last 
 accusation: "Between the hours of three 
 220 
 
and four every Tuesday, I am prepared to Seven 
 
 receive. . . . Gentlemen, often in great num- "^^^^ °^ 
 
 Washington 
 bers, come and go, chat v^ith each other, 
 
 and act as they please. . . . Similar . . . 
 are the visits every Friday afternoon to Mrs. 
 Washington, where I always am. — These — 
 and a dinner once a week to as many as my 
 table will hold — are as much, if not more, 
 than I am able to undergo; for I have al- 
 ready had, within less than a year, two severe 
 attacks — the last one worse than the first. 
 A third, more than probably, will put me to 
 sleep with my fathers." To this, let the 
 following, with its unconscious pathos and 
 irony be appended. "31st July, 1797. Dear 
 Sir: I am alone at present . . . unless 
 some one pops in unexpectedly, Mrs. Wash- 
 ington and myself will do what I believe has 
 not been done in the last twenty years by 
 us — that is to set down to dinner by our- 
 selves." 
 
 During these first momentous years, two 
 221 
 
Seven forces — the perennial forces of our Com- 
 
 ^" °-^ monwealth, the Federal power and the State 
 
 Washington 
 
 power — were to be apportioned and pro- 
 portioned, and between these WasWngton's 
 strength was continually ground. Any event, 
 any question, whether domestic or foreign, 
 set them raging. Had the centrifugal force 
 outbalanced the other, we should have been 
 all tire and no axle; the wheels of the Re- 
 public would have sunk in splinters. Those 
 who dreaded on the other hand that we 
 should be all axle and no tire, pushed their 
 dread rather fantastically; but certainly, if 
 the wheels are to stay sound and turning, 
 we need the perpetual, adjusted equilibrium 
 of those two forces; the United States are 
 a federation, each one remaining a whole 
 as regards each of the others, though it be a 
 part as regards the whole. But upon Wash- 
 ington the grinding told, and with the ill 
 consequences to his health came some not 
 surprising signs of increasing irascibility. 
 222 
 
Several references to violent outbreaks on Seven 
 
 his part have been made; the news of St. ^^^ ^ 
 
 Washington 
 
 Clair's defeat by the Indians had caused one 
 of these, narrated by the single person in 
 whose presence it occurred. Of another, 
 which took place in the presence of the whole 
 cabinet, Jefferson gives the account. " Knox 
 in a foolish. Incoherent sort of speech intro- 
 duced the Pasquinade lately printed, called 
 the funeral of George Washington, and 
 James Wilson, King and Judge, &c., where 
 the President was placed on a guillotine. The 
 President was much inflamed, got into one of 
 those passions when he can not command 
 himself, ran on to the personal abuse which 
 had been bestowed on him, defied any man 
 on earth to produce one single act of his since 
 he had been in the government which was not 
 done on the purest motives, that he had 
 never repented but once the having slipped the 
 moment of resigning his ofl&ce, and that was 
 every moment since, that hy God he would 
 223 
 
Washington 
 
 Seven rather be in his grave than in his present 
 
 Jf\ situation. That he had rather be on his 
 
 farm than to be made emperor of the world 
 and yet that they were charging him with 
 wanting to be a King. . . . He ended in 
 this high tone. There was a pause. Some 
 difficulty in resuming our question." 
 
 Poor, beset, bull-baited Washington ! 
 The mind, even all these years after, feels a 
 shock of anger and shame that he should 
 have tasted an ingratitude so insensate and 
 bestial. The " voice of the people," Jeffer- 
 son's divine guide, has never (in this coun- 
 try) more clearly shown that it can be, on 
 occasion, the voice of hell. 
 
 A cartoon, showing Washington upon the 
 guillotine (which was never an instrument of 
 execution in this country), is curiously sig- 
 nificant of how closely the French Revolution 
 grazed us, how mixed and kneaded in it was 
 with our popular imagination. No other 
 foreign event has ever come so near us, 
 224 
 
has ever so occupied the general mind, has Seven 
 
 ever so endangered our own existence. ^^!\ 
 
 Washington 
 
 That convulsion, while it was ripping France 
 open and tearing it down, and while it was 
 threatening to shake the whole house of 
 Europe to pieces, sent undulations over 
 here that would infallibly have split our 
 walls too, but for the firm back of Washing- 
 ton, propped against them. He distrusted 
 the French Revolution from the first, when 
 Jefferson was gleefully hailing it as the dawn 
 of the millennium. His letters, wishing the 
 cause of liberty well, betray a reserve as to 
 the method in which the French are seeking 
 liberty, and this doubt increases until it ends 
 in horrified repudiation of what was being 
 done; "the summit of despotism" is his 
 brief opinion of it. But there was a loud 
 party here that did not discriminate; it was 
 mainly composed of those who regarded 
 taxation as a symptom of monarchy, and 
 understood a republic to mean the right to 
 Q 225 
 
Seven break any law that displeased you; but we 
 
 Ages of 1 1 • • 
 
 Washington "^^^^ ^^ these people -what justice we can. 
 
 There was a wide and righteous gratitude 
 to France for what she had done to help our 
 own Revolution, and there was a treaty with 
 her, besides an equally wide and natural 
 hatred of England, with whom France was 
 presently at war. Where these people failed 
 to discriminate was in their inability to see 
 that the France who had helped us, the France 
 of Lafayette and Rochambeau, of Louis XVI, 
 was not the France they wished to befriend in 
 return; our France had been pulled down 
 by a mob, and it was not even to its ruins, 
 but to the mob, that American sympathy was 
 directed. Bache's paper of May 25, 1793, 
 expresses the general belief in saying: "The 
 fact will be found to be, that the French 
 understand the principles of a free govern- 
 ment — that the English do not." Nothing 
 that Washington did brought him bitterer 
 hate than his stand for neutrality when 
 226 
 
England went to war with France. The Seven 
 
 French party here would have rushed this /^\°-^ 
 
 Washington 
 
 tottering young country into a European 
 strife. Some one from Pittsburgh writes to 
 Freneau's Gazette: "Louis Capet has lost 
 his Caput. From my use of a pun, it may 
 seem that I think lightly of his fate. I cer- 
 tainly do." And the same paper later 
 addresses Washington: "Sir . . . The 
 cause of France is the cause of man, and 
 neutrality is desertion. ... I doubt much 
 whether it is the disposition of the United 
 States to preserve the conduct you enjoin. 
 . . . The American mind is indignant, and 
 needs but to be roused a little to go to war 
 with England and assist France." For a 
 while the volatile Jefferson busily connived 
 at all this, busily befriended the French 
 envoy, the impudent and meddlesome Genet. 
 We cannot go into the case of the Little 
 Sarah, that was fitted out to aid France and 
 sailed away under Jefferson's nose. There 
 227 
 
Seven 
 Ages of 
 Washington 
 
 can be little doubt he was uncandid with 
 Washington about this; a sentence in a 
 letter from Washington to Henry Lee is 
 highly significant; but when he came face 
 to face with the results of his ill-judged pat- 
 ronage of Genet, and found that this political 
 adventurer proposed to appeal to the Amer- 
 ican people against the decision of the Pres- 
 ident, he came back to his senses for a while. 
 Genet, according to his successor, Fauchet, 
 showed "more personal hatred for Wash- 
 ington than love for France." Fauchet 
 himself turned out a rascal later, and Adet, 
 who followed him, was as bad. These 
 people, sent to us by French "liberty," form 
 a curious contrast with Lafayette, de Grasse, 
 Rochambeau, Chastellux, and the others who 
 came to us from French "despotism." Wash- 
 ington's proclamation of neutrality saved us 
 from a peril that might well have been fatal, 
 and the "American mind," in spite of the 
 newspaper, accepted the President's judg- 
 228 
 
ment. "FIl tell you what," said John Adams Seven 
 
 to the Spanish minister, Yrujo, a youns; man ^^^ °-^ 
 
 ^ Washington 
 
 very free and easy in his manners, as Wash- 
 ington describes him, "the French republic 
 will not last three months;" and Adams 
 shook his finger at Yrujo. Jefferson quotes 
 this with malicious relish, as showing what a 
 fool Adams was. The French republic did 
 last longer than three months. It was pro- 
 claimed in 1792. In one year they abolished 
 the Calendar and the Christian era, renamed 
 all the months, and started a new era with the 
 year one. They then abolished Christianity 
 itself; Robespierre dancing in front of the 
 image of Reason, while flowers were strewed 
 about. This performance was entitled the 
 "Picnic of the Supreme Being." Then 
 they cut off Robespierre's head — he was not 
 advanced enough for them — and children 
 were given toy guillotines, which cut off 
 doll's heads, from which spurted red syrup. 
 This was the real France, with which the 
 229 
 
Seven "American mind" felt such sympathy; a 
 
 ^g^^ y France of rivers of blood, in which danced 
 
 Washington 
 
 monkeys and assassins. Even the flighty 
 
 JeflFerson*s vision of the millennium was 
 troubled during the Reign of Terror, and we 
 find him writing a very mixed metaphor to 
 the effect that "the arm of the people" is 
 "blind to a certain degree." After 1792, 
 France was republic, directorate, consulate, 
 monarchy, and empire, changing its form of 
 government ten times in eighty years. We 
 recall and assemble these familiar facts in 
 order that against their background the 
 reader may more instantly see the value of 
 Washington's neutrality, and the folly of the 
 very powerful and clamorous party who 
 denounced it; but to see these things fully, 
 the newspapers of that day should be read. 
 From the many echoes of doubt and dis- 
 trust in our stability caused by the resistance 
 to taxation and the sympathy with the 
 French Revolution, we select a few lines 
 230 
 
Jges of 
 Washington 
 
 written from Congress by the same Jeremiah Seven 
 Smith who became chief justice of New 
 Hampshire : — 
 
 "You perceive that we have been, I may 
 say still are, on the edge of a precipice, ready 
 to take a leap into the abyss of confusion. . , . 
 God knows how this ship of ours will sail, when 
 the present pilot quits the helm. If we may 
 judge from present appearances, she will 
 inevitably founder." 
 
 From the pilot's own letters we select and 
 place together for the last time some sentences 
 dealing with a few of his problems — many 
 of them still our problems — and showing the 
 man himself after his encounter with them. 
 
 "The difference of conduct between the 
 friends and foes of . . . good government, 
 is . . . that the latter are always working 
 like bees to distil their poison; whilst the 
 former, depending often times too much 
 and too long upon the sense and good disposi- 
 tion of the people to work conviction, neglect 
 231 
 
Seven the means of effecting It. . . . My opinion 
 
 ^^\°-^ with respect to emigration is that except of 
 Washington r & r 
 
 useful mechanics and some particular de- 
 scription of men or professions, there is no 
 need of encouragement, while the policy or 
 advantage of its taking place in a body . . . 
 may be much questioned: for by so doing, 
 they retain the Language, habits and prin- 
 ciples (good or bad) which they bring with 
 them. . . . Never forget that we are Amer- 
 icans, the remembrance of v^hich will con- 
 vince us that we ought not to be French or 
 English. . . . [The following shows how 
 early a certain habit of visitors from abroad 
 began.] The remarks of a foreign Count 
 are such as do no credit to his judgment, 
 and as little to his heart. They are the 
 superficial observations of a few months' 
 residence, and an insult to the inhabitants 
 of a country, where he has received much 
 more attention and civility than he seems to 
 merit. . . ." [It was also bound to begin 
 232 
 
early, that representatives elected to repre- Seven 
 
 sent should misrepresent those who elected J^ , 
 
 ^ Washington 
 
 them, and this seems to have come to a 
 considerable head at the time of Jay's treaty 
 with England, an understanding which 
 France did her best to prevent.] The 
 treaty, said Washington, "does not rise to 
 all our wishes, yet it appears to be cal- 
 culated to procure to the United States 
 such advantages as entitle it to our accept- 
 ance. . . . People living at a distance know 
 not how to believe it possible that . . . 
 representatives . . . can speak a language 
 which is repugnant to the sense of their 
 constituents. . . . Whatever my own opin- 
 ion may be . . . it . . . will continue to be 
 my earnest desire to learn, and, as far as 
 consistent, to comply with, the public senti- 
 ment; but it is on great occasions only, and 
 after time has been given for cool and de- 
 liberate reflection, that the real voice of the 
 people can be known. ... I am sure the 
 
 233 
 
Seven mass of citizens in these United States mean 
 
 4?^^ V welL and I firmly believe they will always 
 
 Washington ^ ^ ^ / 
 
 act well whenever they can obtain a right 
 understanding . . . but in some parts of the 
 Union, where the sentiments of their dele- 
 gates and leaders are adverse to the govern- 
 ment, and great pains are taken to inculcate 
 a belief that their rights are assailed and their 
 liberties endangered, it is not easy to accom- 
 plish this; especially, as is the case invari- 
 ably, when the inventors and abettors of 
 pernicious measures use infinite more in- 
 dustry in disseminating the poison, than the 
 well-disposed part of the community to fur- 
 nish the antidote. . . ." 
 
 As has been said, he began as a man of no 
 party, but became inevitably ranged with 
 the Federalists; his political affinity with 
 Hamilton, his affection for him — ever warmer 
 as the years went on — and his modest 
 recognition of Hamilton's superior gifts in 
 statesmanship, led him to go to his friend with 
 234 
 
every question that he was pondering, even Seven 
 
 small ones. Adet, the third unsatisfactory Jf\. 
 
 ■^ Washington 
 
 envoy from France, had published a letter to 
 the Secretary of State : — 
 
 "... v^hether the publication in the man- 
 ner it appears is by order of the Directory, 
 or an act of his own, is yet to be learnt. If 
 the first, he has executed a duty only; if 
 the latter, he exceeded it, and is himself 
 responsible for the indignity offered to this 
 Government by such publication, without 
 allowing it time to reply. ... In either 
 case, should there be in your opinion any 
 difference in my reception and treatment of 
 that Minister in his visits at the public 
 Rooms (I have not seen him yet, nor do not 
 expect to do it before Tuesday next) — and 
 what difference should be made if any?" 
 To which Hamilton answers: — 
 "The true rule on this point would be to 
 receive the Minister at your levees with a 
 dignified reserve^ holding an exact medium 
 235 
 
Seven between an offensive coldness and cordiality. 
 
 ges of -pj^^ point is a nice one to be hit, but no one 
 
 Washington 
 
 will know how to do it better than the Pres- 
 ident." 
 
 We dwell not upon his Farewell Ad- 
 dress, his own idea and work — though it 
 benefited by the criticism of Hamilton ; it 
 needs no mention here; we finish with 
 a few further examples of his opinions. 
 "I was in hopes that motives of policy as 
 well as other good reasons supported by 
 the direful effects of slavery . . . would 
 have operated to produce a total pro- 
 hibition of the importation of slaves. . . . 
 Were it not that I am principled against 
 selling negroes ... I would not in twelve 
 months from this date be possessed of one, 
 as a slave. I shall be happily mistaken if 
 they are not found to be very troublesome 
 species of property ere many years pass over 
 our heads. . . . We are all the children of 
 the same country. . . . Our interest ... is 
 236 
 
the same. . . . My system . . . has uni- Seven 
 
 formlv been ... to contemplate the United Jf\ 
 
 •' ^ Washington 
 
 States as one great whole ... for sure I 
 am, if this country is preserved in tranquillity 
 twenty years longer, it may bid defiance in a 
 just cause to any power whatever; such in 
 that time will be its population, wealth and 
 resources. . . . [The next regards the Fed- 
 eral City which he had in mind.] I take 
 the liberty of sending you the plan of a new 
 city, situated about the centre of the Union of 
 these States, which is designated for the 
 permanent seat of government. ... A cen- 
 tury hence if this country keeps united (and 
 it is surely its policy and interest to do it) 
 will produce a city, though not so large as 
 London, yet of a magnitude inferior to few 
 others in Europe, on the banks of the Po- 
 tomac . . . where elegant buildings are erect- 
 ing and in forwardness for the reception of 
 Congress in the year 1800. . . . [This 
 concerns his third term.] It would be a 
 237 
 
Seven matter of sore regret to me, if I could believe 
 
 ^g^^ V y^^^ 2L serious thought was turned towards 
 
 Washington 
 
 me . . . for, although I have abundant 
 cause to be thankful for the good health with 
 which I am blessed, yet I am not insensible 
 to my declination in other respects. It 
 would be criminal, therefore, in me, although 
 it would be the wish of my countrymen . . . 
 to accept an office . . . which another would 
 discharge with more ability." 
 
 This is the person whom they pictured 
 on the guillotine; the author of that Fare- 
 well Address more times printed than any 
 American state document; and this is the 
 person of whom the newspaper, Bache's 
 Aurora, said upon his retiring from the 
 presidency: "If ever a Nation was de- 
 bauched by a man, the American Nation 
 has been debauched by Washington." 
 
 So much patience of mind seems never to 
 have belonged to any other great public 
 man; to take difficult thoughts, one by one, 
 238 
 
and march slowly to their end, and so to Seven 
 
 reach conclusions which were impregnable ^" ^ 
 
 ^ Washington 
 
 then, and which time itself has left unassailed, 
 this was his preeminent quality. Very 
 different he was from the ingenious, better- 
 educated Jefferson, whose mind leaped lightly 
 to attractive generalizations, which the ruth- 
 less test of actuality finds to be mostly rub- 
 bish. The two may be styled the hare and 
 the tortoise of our Independence. One 
 other great quality comes forth from all 
 Washington's deeds and words, like a beauti- 
 ful glow; its lustre seems to shine in every 
 page that he writes, and in all his dealings with 
 men, with ideas, with himself; it is the quality 
 of simplicity. Our fathers had it more than 
 we of to-day, and it would be well for us if we 
 could regain it. The Englishman of to-day 
 is superior to us in it; he has in general, 
 no matter what his station, a quiet way of 
 doing and of being, of letting himself alone, 
 that we in general lack. We cannot seem 
 
 239 
 
Seven to let ourselves alone; we must talk when 
 
 Jf\ there is nothing to say: we must ioke — 
 
 Washington to 7 ' J 
 
 especially we must joke — when there is no 
 need for it, and when nobody asks to be enter- 
 tained. This is the nervousness of democ- 
 racy; we are uncertain if the other man 
 thinks we are "as good" as he is; therefore 
 we must prove that we are, at first sight, by 
 some sort of performance. Such doubt 
 never occurs to the established man, to the 
 man whose case is proven; he is not thinking 
 about what we think of him. So the Indian, 
 so the frontiersman, so the true gentleman, 
 does not live in this restlessness. Nor did 
 Washington ; and therefore he moved always 
 • in simplicity, that balanced and wholesome 
 ease of the spirit, which when it comes among 
 those who must be showing off from moment 
 to moment, shines like a quiet star upon 
 fireworks. 
 
 And how did the man who had been twice 
 President now look ? The descriptions of 
 240 
 
him belonging to this period tell of changes. Seven 
 
 Less mention is made of his agreeable smile, ^^^ ^•' 
 
 Washington 
 
 his cheerful serenity, his pleasant talk; it 
 is his gravity, his reticence, even his melan- 
 choly — this is the record. Is it surprising 
 in one who, vs^hen reticence v^as during an 
 angry moment broken, had declared that he 
 would rather be in his grave than in his 
 present situation 1 If Arnold had added a 
 furrow to his face, there must have been 
 many new ones by this time; but here is one 
 word about himself, written in considerable 
 indignation, that unveils something of the 
 depths he usually concealed: "Whether you 
 have, upon any occasion, expressed yourself 
 in disrespectful terms of me, I know not — 
 it has never been the subject of my enquiry. 
 If nothing impeaching my honor or honesty 
 is said, I care little for the rest. I have 
 pursued one uniform course for threescore 
 years, and am happy in helieving that the 
 world have thought it a right one — of it's 
 R 241 
 
of 
 
 Washington 
 
 Seven being so, I am so well satisfied myself, that I 
 
 shall not depart from it by turning either to 
 the right or to the left, until I arrive at the 
 end of my pilgrimage/' 
 
 An agreeable and graphic account of 
 Washington the President is given in the 
 privately published memoirs of Mr. Charles 
 Biddle, a distinguished Philadelphian of that 
 day: — 
 
 "When he was elected President of the 
 United States, he lived during the whole of 
 the time that he was in Philadelphia nearly 
 opposite to me. At that time I saw him 
 almost daily. I frequently attended levees 
 to introduce some friend or acquaintance, 
 and called sometimes with Governor Mifflin. 
 The General always behaved politely to the 
 Governor, but it appeared to me he had not 
 forgotten the Governor's opposition to him 
 during the Revolutionary war. He was a 
 most elegant figure of a man, with so much 
 dignity of manners, that no person whatever 
 242 
 
could take any improper liberties with him. Seven 
 
 I have heard Mr. Robert Morris, who was "^^'' '^ 
 
 Washington 
 
 as intimate with him as any man in America, 
 say that he was the only man in whose pres- 
 ence he felt any awe. You would seldom 
 see a frown or a smile on his countenance, 
 his air was serious and reflecting, yet I have 
 seen him in the theatre laugh heartily. Dr. 
 Forrest, who laughs a great deal, desired 
 me one night at the theatre, to look at 
 General Washington. 'See how he laughs, 
 by the Lord he must be a gentleman.' 
 The General was in the next box, and I 
 believe heard him. He was much more 
 cheerful when he was retiring from office 
 of President than I had ever seen him be- 
 fore. Commodore Barry, Major Jackson, 
 and myself were appointed a Committee 
 of the Society of Cincinnati to wait upon 
 him with a copy of an address, and to know 
 when it would be convenient for the Society 
 to wait upon him. He received us with great 
 243 
 
Seven good humor, and laughing, told us that he 
 
 •^^V had heard Governor Morris (I believe of 
 
 Washington 
 
 New Jersey) say that when he knew gentle- 
 men were going to call on him with an address, 
 he sent to beg they would bring an answer. 
 If this were done to him, he observed that it 
 would save him a great deal of trouble. He 
 was in Philadelphia a short time before he 
 died, and I thought he never looked better 
 than he did at that time. . . . He was 
 called the American Fabius, but Fabius was 
 not equal to George Washington. He suf- 
 fered Tarentum to be pillaged when it was 
 traitorously delivered to him, and his op- 
 position and jealousy of Scipio rendered the 
 Roman unequal to the American hero." 
 
 It is upon the day of his release, the day 
 when public burdens fell from him, and the 
 vine and fig-tree began to draw near in his 
 hopes, that we shall take our farewell look 
 at him. His successor, John Adams, had 
 finished taking his oath ; Washington turned 
 244 
 
to leave the assembly, and at this sight, all Seven 
 
 who could do so crowded from their places to ^^^ ^ 
 
 Washington 
 
 the hall, that they might see the last of him. 
 He passed through their cheering to the street, 
 where in answer he waved his hat, " his 
 countenance radiant with benignity, his grey 
 hairs streaming in the wind." It is from the 
 lips of an eye-witness that Irving gives this 
 account. "The crowd followed him to his 
 door; there, turning round, his countenance 
 assumed a grave and almost melancholy 
 expression, his eyes were bathed in tears, 
 his emotions were too great for utterance, 
 and only by gestures could he indicate his 
 thanks and convey his farewell blessing." 
 Three years of quiet he lived to see, and 
 then was dead after brief illness, able to ride 
 his horse to within three days of the end, 
 and ready to take the command against 
 France in case of war. He seemed to know 
 his illness was indeed the end, although, 
 during the twenty hours of its progress he let 
 245 
 
Seven them try what remedies they wished; when 
 
 wlhigton ^^ ^^'^ ^^^ ^"^"^ ^^- C^'^ik sat on his bed, 
 and took his head in his lap, he said with 
 difficulty: "Doctor, I am dying, and have 
 been dying for a long time, but I am not 
 afraid to die/' 
 
 246 
 
VII. IMMORTALITY 
 
TM3MUH0N: MOT0MIH2AW 
 
VII 
 
 Go, when the day is fine, down the river Seven 
 
 to Mount Vernon. There, followinp; the S\ 
 
 ° Washington 
 
 path up from the shore among the trees, 
 you will slowly come to where his tomb is, 
 the simple vault half up the hill, which vines 
 partly cover, built according to his directions. 
 From this you will still ascend among grass 
 and trees, and pass up by old buildings, old 
 barns, an old coach-house with the coach in it, 
 and so come to the level green upon which the 
 house gives with its connecting side offices at 
 either flank. Inside the house, all through 
 the rooms of bygone comfort so comfortable 
 still, so mellowed with the long sense of home, 
 you will feel the memory of his presence 
 strangely, and how much his house is like 
 him. He seems to come from his battles and 
 249 
 
Seven his austere fame, and to be here by the fire- 
 
 '^^^/^ place. Here are some of his very books on 
 
 Washington ^ 
 
 the shelves, here the stairs he v^ent up and 
 down, here in the hall his swords, and the 
 key of the Bastille that Lafayette sent to 
 him. Upstairs is the room he died in, and 
 the bed; still above this chamber, the little 
 room where Martha Washington lived her 
 last years after his death, with its window 
 looking out upon the tomb where he was first 
 laid. Everything, every object, every corner 
 and step, seems to bring him close, not in the 
 way of speaking of him or breathing of him, 
 as some memorial places seem to speak and 
 breathe their significance ; a silence fills these 
 passages and rooms, a particular motionless- 
 ness, that is not changed or disturbed by the 
 constant moving back and forth of the visitors. 
 What they do, their voices, their stopping 
 and bending to look at this or that, does not 
 seem to affect, or even to reach, the strange 
 influence that surrounds them. It is an 
 250 
 
exquisite and friendly serenity which bathes Seven 
 
 one's sense, that brings him so near, that seems ^ff\ ^ 
 
 "^ Washington 
 
 to be charged all through with some meaning 
 or message of beneficence and reassurance, 
 but nothing that could be put into words. 
 
 And then, not staying too long in the house, 
 stroll out upon the grounds. Look away to 
 the woods and fields, whence he rode home 
 from hunting with Lord Fairfax, over which 
 his maturer gaze roved as he watched his 
 crops and his fences, and to which his majestic 
 figure came back with pleasure and relief 
 from the burdens and the admiration of the 
 world. Turn into his garden and look at the 
 walls and the walks he planned, the box hedges, 
 the trees, the flower-beds, the great order and 
 the great sweetness everywhere. And among 
 all this, still the visitors are moving, looking, 
 speaking, the men, women, and children 
 from every corner of the country, some plain 
 and rustic enough, some laughing and talking 
 louder than need be, but all drawn here to 
 251 
 
Seven 
 Jges of 
 Washington 
 
 see it, to remember it, to take it home with 
 them, to be in their own ways and according 
 to their several lights touched by it, and no 
 more disturbing the lovely peace of it than 
 they disturbed the house. For again, as in 
 the house, only if possible more marvellously 
 still, there comes from the trees, the box 
 hedges, the glimpses of the river, that serenity 
 with its message of beneficence and reas- 
 surance, that cannot be put into words. 
 It seems to lay a hand upon all and make 
 them, for a moment, one. You may spend 
 an hour, you may spend a day, wandering, 
 sitting, feeling this gentle power of the place ; 
 you may come back another time, it meets 
 you, you cannot dispel it by familiarity. 
 
 Then go down the hill again, past the old 
 buildings, past the tomb, among the trees 
 to the shore. As you recede from the shore, 
 you watch the place grow into the compact- 
 ness of distance, and then it seems to speak: 
 "I am still here, my countrymen, to do you 
 252 
 
what good I can." And as you think of ^^^^» 
 
 Ages of 
 this, and bless the devotion of those whose ijrashington 
 
 piety and care treasure the place, and keep 
 
 it sacred and beautiful, you turn and look 
 
 up the expanding river. From behind a 
 
 wooded point, silent and far, the Nation's 
 
 roof-tree, the dome of the Capitol, moves 
 
 into sight. A turn of the river, and it moves 
 
 behind the point again; but now, on the other 
 
 side of the wide water distance, rises that 
 
 shaft built to his memory, almost seeming to 
 
 grow from the stream itself; presently, 
 
 shaft and dome stand out against the sky, 
 
 with the Federal City that he prophesied, 
 
 Union's hearth-stone and high-seat, stretching 
 
 between them. 
 
 253 
 
" He that has light within his own clear breast 
 May sit t* the centre^ and enjoy bright day.^^ 
 
CHRONOLOGY 
 
 %55 
 
CHRONOLOGY 
 
 Date 
 
 Events 
 
 Age 
 
 1657 
 
 Emigration of John and Lawrence Washington to 
 Virginia. 
 
 
 1694 
 
 Augustine Washington, father of George Washing- 
 ton, born. 
 
 
 1732 
 
 Feb. 22. George Washington born in Westmore- 
 land County, Virginia. 
 
 
 1733-4 
 
 Family moved to the farm now known as Mount 
 
 
 
 Vernon ....... 
 
 I -a 
 
 1743 
 
 April 12. Death of Augustine Washington 
 
 II 
 
 1743 
 
 George sent to live with his half-brother Augustine 
 
 
 
 at birthplace ...... 
 
 II 
 
 1743-5 
 
 Mansion built and named Mount Vernon by his 
 
 
 
 half-brother Lawrence ..... 
 
 13 
 
 1745 
 
 He returned to live with his mother at Fredericks- 
 
 
 
 burg. School 
 
 13 
 
 1746 
 
 At his mother's request gave up entering the navy . 
 
 14 
 
 1748 
 
 March i r. Became surveyor for Lord Fairfax 
 
 16 
 
 1749 
 
 Appointed public surveyor ..... 
 
 17 
 
 1751 
 
 Military inspector with rank of Major to protect 
 
 
 
 Virginia frontier against French and Indians 
 
 19 
 
 1751 
 
 Sept. Journey with invalid brother Lawrence to 
 
 
 
 Barbadoes ....... 
 
 19 
 
 1752 
 
 Adjutant-general. Sept. 26. Mount Vernon left 
 
 
 
 him by Lawrence ..... 
 
 20 
 
 1753 
 
 Mission to the frontier. Venango, Duquesne 
 
 21 
 
 1754 
 
 Lieutenant-colonel. Great Meadows campaign. 
 Venango, Duquesne. Ill health. Sojourns at 
 
 
 
 Mount Vernon ...... 
 
 22 
 
 1755 
 
 Aide-de-camp to General Braddock. Venango, Du- 
 
 
 
 quesne. Commander-in-chief of the Virginia forces 
 
 23 
 
 Chronology 
 
 257 
 
Date 
 
 Events 
 
 Age 
 
 1756 
 
 Military mission to New York and Boston . 
 
 24 
 
 1758 
 
 Ill health. Courtship. March to the Ohio. Re- 
 
 
 
 signed commission ..... 
 
 26 
 
 1759 
 
 Jan. 6. Married to Martha Dandridge Custis 
 
 26 
 
 1759 
 
 May. Took seat in House of Burgesses 
 
 27 
 
 1765 
 
 Commissioner for setthng the military accounts of 
 
 
 
 the colony ....... 
 
 33 
 
 1770 
 
 Journey to the Ohio and Kenawha rivers 
 
 38 
 
 1774 
 
 Member of the Virginia Convention on the points 
 
 
 
 at issue between England and the Colonies . 
 
 42 
 
 »774 
 
 Sept. Member of the First Continental Congress , 
 
 42 
 
 1775 
 
 May 10. Member of the Second Continental Con- 
 gress. June 15. Commander-in-chief. July 3. 
 
 
 
 Took command at Cambridge. Siege of Boston 
 
 43 
 
 1776 
 
 Mar. 17. Boston evacuated by British. Aug. 27. 
 Battle of Long Island. Dec. 26. Battle of 
 Trenton. Dec. 27. Invested by Congress with 
 
 
 
 dictatorial powers ...... 
 
 44 
 
 1777 
 
 Jan. 3. Battle of Princeton. Winter quarters at 
 Morristown. Sept. 1 1 . Battle of Brandywine. 
 
 
 
 Oct. 4. Battle of Germantown 
 
 44-45 
 
 1778 
 
 Winter quarters at Valley Forge. Conway Cabal. 
 June 28. Battle of Monmouth Court-house . . . 
 Arrival of d'Estaing. Winter quarters at Mid- 
 
 
 
 dlebrook 
 
 45-46 
 
 1779 
 
 July 16. Capture of Stony Point 
 
 47 
 
 1780 
 
 Arnold's treason ...... 
 
 48 
 
 1781 
 
 Jan. I. Pennsylvania troops mutiny. Oct. 19. 
 
 
 
 Surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown 
 
 49 
 
 1782 
 
 Threatening sedition of army and talk of dictator . 
 
 50 
 
 1783 
 
 April 1 9. Peace proclaimed to the army. Nov. 2. 
 His farewell to the army. Dec. 4. His farewell 
 to his generals. Dec. 23. He resigned his 
 commission at Annapolis. Dec. 24. Home to 
 
 
 
 Mount Vernon ...... 
 
 51 
 
 1784 
 
 Journey to the western country .... 
 
 5^ 
 
 258 
 
Date 
 
 Events 
 
 Age 
 
 1787 
 
 May 14. Delegate to Constitutional Convention at 
 
 
 
 Philadelphia. President of the Convention 
 
 55 
 
 1789 
 
 President of the United States. Apr. 30. Inaugu- 
 rated in New York. Journey through Eastern 
 
 
 
 States 
 
 57 
 
 1791 
 
 Journey through Southern States 
 
 59 
 
 1793 
 
 Second time President of United States. The epi- 
 
 
 
 sode of Genet, minister from France 
 
 61 
 
 1796 
 
 Sept. 1 7. Farewell address to the people of the 
 
 
 
 United States 
 
 64 
 
 1797 
 
 Home to Mount Vernon. Troubles with France. 
 
 
 
 Preparations for war ..... 
 
 65 
 
 1798 
 
 July 3. Commander-in-chief of the armies of the 
 
 
 
 United States 
 
 66 
 
 1799 
 
 Dec. 14. Died at Mount Vernon 
 
 67 
 
 Chronology 
 
 259 
 
BIBLIOGRAPHY 
 
 261 
 
BIBLIOGRAPHY 
 
 The Writings of George Washington. Collected and Bibliography 
 
 edited by Worthington Chauncey Ford. Letter- 
 press Edition. G. P. Putnam's Sons. New York. 
 
 1893. 
 The Life of Washington, by Washington Irving. In 
 
 8 volumes. G. P. Putnam's Sons. New^ York. 
 
 1855-59. 
 The True History of the Revolution, by Sydney George 
 
 Fisher. J. B. Lippincott Co. Philadelphia. 1902. 
 Alexander Hamilton^ by Frederick Scott Oliver. G. P. 
 
 Putnam's Sons. New York. 1907. 
 Patrick Henry, by Moses Coit Tyler. Houghton, 
 
 Mifflin & Company. Boston. 1887. 
 The True Thomas Jefferson, by William Eleroy Curtis. 
 
 J. B. Lippincott Co. Philadelphia. 1901. 
 George Washington' s Rules of Civility, by Moncure D. 
 
 Conway. John W. Lovell Company. New York. 
 
 1890. 
 Life of the Hon. Jeremiah Smith, LL.D., by John H. 
 
 Morison. Charles C. Little & James Brown. 
 
 Boston. 1845. 
 And the memoirs, privately published, o^ Benjamin Rush 
 
 and Charles Biddle, together with the files of Fre- 
 
 neau's Gazette and Bache' s Aurora, during the 
 
 terms of Washington's presidency. 
 
 263 
 
** Unquestionably the Final Edition " of 
 
 The Life and Letters of 
 Benjamin Franklin 
 
 Edited by Albert H. Smyth, late Professor of English Lan- 
 guage and Literature in the Central High School, Philadelphia. 
 In ten volumes with twenty portraits. 
 
 Special limited edition, $jo.oo net. 
 
 Eversley edition, $i5-oo net. 
 
 "The volume closes with a copy of Franklin's will and a series of re- 
 markably complete indexes, rendering the contents of all the volumes 
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 bears evidences of painstaking care and devotion to the task for its own 
 sake. It is incomparably the best and most complete edition of Franklin's 
 writings in existence, containing all that is worth preserving, while in 
 arrangement, editorial treatment, and mechanical workmanship it leaves 
 nothing to be desired. The set is certain to have an irresistible attraction 
 for admirers of Franklin and for lovers of well-made books." 
 
 — Record- Herald, Chicago. 
 
 " * Franklin's writings are his best biography.' To few has it been given 
 to tell their own story so frankly and so fully, and with shrewd wisdom 
 and such unfailing humor. We have already, on several occasions, de- 
 scribed this excellent edition of Franklin, the fullest, the most accurate 
 that we have ever had." — Churchman, 
 
 "Some interesting notes regarding the twenty rare Franklin portraits 
 that have appeared in these volumes are given in the preface to Volume X. 
 The most interesting portrait is the one appearing as the final volume 
 frontispiece, a photogravure of the painting that originally belonged to 
 Franklin, which was taken from his home in Philadelphia during the British 
 occupation, and after the lapse of 130 years was presented to the United 
 States by Earl Grey. It was painted in London in 1759 by Benjamin 
 Wilson, and is now in the White House at Washington." 
 
 — Boston Transcript. 
 
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