From Farm House
to the White House
LOG CABIN TO WHITE HOUSE SERIES
From Farm House
to the White House
THE LIFE OF
GEORGE WASHINGTON HIS BOYHOOD, YOUTH, MANHOOD, PUBLIC AND PRIVATE LIFE AND SERVICES
By William M. Thayer
Author of "From Log Cabin to White House," "From Pioneer Home to White House," "From Tannery to White House," "From Boyhood to Manhood," etc., etc.
ILLUSTRATED
NEW YORK
HURST & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
Log Cabin to White House Series.
UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME. BY WILLIAM M. THAYER:
From Boyhood to Manhood—Life of Benjamin Franklin.
From Farm House to White House—Life of George Washington.
From Log Cabin to White House—Life of James A. Garfield, with eulogy by Hon. James G. Blaine.
From Pioneer Home to White House—Life of Abraham Lincoln, with eulogy by Hon. Geo. Bancroft.
From Tannery to White House—Life of Ulysses S. Grant.
By Edward S. Ellis:
From Ranch to White House—Life of Theodore Roosevelt.
Price Post-Paid, 75¢. each, or $4.50 for the set.
HURST & COMPANY
Publishers, New York.
Copyright, 1890, By JAMES H. EARLE.
To
ALL WHO
HONOR TRUE MANHOOD,
This Volume,
REPRESENTING THE ELEMENTS OF SUCCESS,
From Boyhood to Manhood
IN THE
Career and Noble Character
OF
GEORGE WASHINGTON,
"THE FATHER OF HIS COUNTRY,"
Is Sincerely and Affectionately Dedicated.
PREFACE.
Every American, old or young, should become familiar with the life of Washington; it will confirm their patriotism and strengthen their loyalty. Such a character will become an inspiration to them, eliciting nobler aims, and impelling to nobler deeds.
Washington himself wrote to his step-son, who was in college:
"You are now extending into that stage of life when good or bad habits are formed; when the mind will be turned to things useful and praiseworthy or to dissipation and vice. Fix on which ever it may, it will stick by you; for you know it has been said, and truly, 'The way the twig is bent the tree's inclined.' This, in a strong point of view, shows the propriety of letting your inexperience be directed by maturer advice, and in placing guard upon the avenues which lead to idleness and vice. The latter will approach like a thief, working upon your passions, encouraged, perhaps, by bad examples, the propensity to which will increase in proportion to the practice of it and your yielding. Virtue and vice cannot be allied, nor can idleness and industry; of course if you resolve to adhere to the former of these extremes, an intimacy with those who incline to the latter of them would be extremely embarrassing to you; it would be a stumbling block in your way, and act like a mill-stone hung to your neck; for it is the nature of idleness and vice to obtain as many votaries as they can....
"It is to close application and perseverance that men of letters and science are indebted for their knowledge and usefulness; and you are now at the period of life when these are to be acquired, or lost for ever. As you know how anxious your friends are to see you enter upon the grand theatre of life with the advantages of a finished education, a highly cultivated mind, and a proper sense of your duties to God and man, I shall only add one sentiment before I close this letter and that is, to pay due respect and obedience to your tutors, and affectionate reverence for the president of the college, whose character merits your highest regards. Let no bad example, for such is to be met in all seminaries, have an improper influence upon your conduct. Let this be such, and let it be your pride to demean yourself in such a manner as to obtain the good will of your superiors and the love of your fellow students."
Better advice than this was never given to a youth; and to enforce it, we present in this volume the life and character of the great man who so lovingly tendered it. By employing the colloquial style, anecdotal illustration, and thrilling incident, the author hopes more successfully to accomplish his purpose.
In the preparation of this work the author has availed himself of the abundant material furnished by Washington's well-known biographers, Ramsey, Weems, Marshall, Sparks, Bancroft, Irving, Everett, Custis, etc., together with the anecdotes of his earlier and later life, found in eulogies, essays, and literary articles upon his life and character, with which the literature of our country abounds. Incident is allowed to tell the life story of the subject. The incidents of his boyhood and youth are particularly narrated, that the achievements of ripe manhood may more clearly appear to be the outcome of a life well begun. To such an example parents and guardians can point with confidence and hope.
Believing that biography should be written and read so as to assure a sharp analysis of character, thereby bringing the real qualities of the subject to the front, and believing, also, that the biographies of the noblest men only should be written for the young, since "example is more powerful than precept," the author sends forth this humble volume, invoking for it the considerate indulgence of critics, and the blessing of Divine Providence.
W. M. T. Franklin, Mass.
CONTENTS.
I.
ANCESTORS AND BIRTH.
| Ancestors in England—John and Lawrence Washington—Family of Note—The Washington Manor and Irving—Sir Henry Washington in War—English Fox Hunting—Washington and Franklin—The Washingtons in America—Birth of George—House where born—Ceremony of placing a Slab on it by Custis—Paulding describes the Place—The House described—George baptized—Removal to Banks of Rappahannock—Large Estates—Style of Living—Vast Wilderness—Militia—Depredations by Indians—Negro Slavery | [23] |
II.
BOYHOOD.
| Reliable Information about it—Visit to the Orchard, and the Rebuke to Selfishness—George's Name growing in the Garden—Its Lesson about God—The Hatchet, and it Lesson about Lying—Raising a Regiment of Soldiers—George's Brother in Uniform—Effect of Military Display on George—Playing Soldier—His Brother Lawrence a Good Soldier—Love Greater than War—George's Military Spirit increasing—George's Manly Bearing—Excels in Athletic Sports—What Fitzhugh said—The Sequel | [36] |
III.
SCHOOL DAYS.
| His Brother Lawrence educated in England—Leaving Home—George at School when Five Years Old—His Teacher, Hobby—What a Biographer says of his Progress—The Homeschool—His Writing-book and Thoroughness—A Good Speller—Studying and Playing with all his Might—Best Runner, Wrestler, etc.—The School Grounds a Military Camp—An English and Spanish Army of Boys—Juvenile Commander-in-chief—A Quarrel that George could not Conquer—Truth-teller and Peacemaker—At Mr. Williams' School, and a Mother's Lesson—Studying Surveying—Mimic War—Surveying School-grounds—Later Surveying—Settling a Difficulty—Acting as Umpire—What Mr. Weems says—What Mrs. Kirkland says | [52] |
IV.
METHOD AND THOROUGHNESS.
| Doing Things Well—Dialogue with Lawrence—His "Book of Forms," and what a Schoolmate thought of it—His "Book of Problems:" its Use and Abuse—His "Book of Drawing"—Odd Moments—Preserving Bits of Prose and Verse—What Irving says—His "Rules of Behavior"—What Lawrence Washington and his Wife thought of them—Their Influence over him—Part of them Quoted—What Everett says of them—Author's Opinion—Sample Extract from his Copy-book—These show his Character—His Heart made a Level Head | [72] |
V.
FOUR INCIDENTS AND THEIR LESSONS.
| His Father's Sudden Sickness—George at Chotauk—The Doctor's Opinion—Growing Worse, and Startling Revelation—George sent for—He arrived when his Father was dying—Affecting Scene—Death and Will—The Arabian Colt—Attempt to ride him—The Animal killed—George confessing his Wrong-doing—The "Lowland Beauty"—George in Love—A Human Heart after All—What Irving says about it—Naval Officers at Vernon—Wants to be a Midshipman—His Mother's Opposition, and Lawrence's Approval—Enlists—Appears before his Mother in Naval Costume—Her Grief—He does not go—His True Manliness asserts itself | [82] |
VI.
HIS MOTHER.
| Her Views of Correct Family Government—Secret of George's Correct Life—What Custis says about it—What Lawrence Washington said—Obedience commanded—How she commanded her Servants—Her One Book, next to the Bible, consulted—What Everett said of it—Quotations from it—They teach Honesty, Industry, Fidelity, Religion, etc.—Her Ancestry—Courage—Afraid of Lightning—Her Singular Dream—Weems' Explanation—Care of her Family—Mr. Sparks' Tribute—Irving's Tribute—Her Son visits her before going to War—Her Patriotism—Taking Charge of her Own Business—Her Joy over Cornwallis' Surrender—Her Son's Visit to her—The Ball, and his Staff introduced to her—Compared with Napoleon's Mother—Lafayette's Visit to her—Her Son's Visit to her before becoming President—Custis' description of the Scene—Her Death, Burial, and Monument—Jackson's Eulogy—John Adams' Words—The Mother of Such a Son, and the Son of Such a Mother | [103] |
VII.
YOUNG SURVEYOR.
| His Mother's Views about his Future—The Plea of Lawrence—Goes to Live at Mount Vernon—Lawrence's Eye on a Military Life for him—Lessons in "The Manual Exercise"—Lessons in "Fencing"—Reading Military Treatises—In the Family of William Fairfax—What the Latter thought of him—Meets Lord Fairfax—What Everett says of him—What Irving says—Reading Books and Fox Hunting—An Unexpected Proposition—Becomes a Surveyor—His Appearance now—Keeping a Journal—Extracts from Letter and Journal—Mode of Life described—Hardships—What Abbott and Everett say of his Hardships—Camping Out—In Indian Wigwam—His Journal describes a Scene—Other Entries—What he recorded—Sparks' Tribute to his Thoroughness as a Surveyor—Everett's Tribute—The Stevenson Family—Sports with the Seven Sons—Among his Officers, Later—Greenaway Court—Appointed Public Surveyor—In Training for the War of Seventy-six | [132] |
VIII.
MILITARY HONORS.
| The Proposition of Lawrence, and Discussion of it—Appointed Adjutant-general—Ill Health of Lawrence—Decides to spend the Winter in Barbadoes—George goes with him—Lawrence no Better—George has the Small-pox—Returns to Virginia in April—Lawrence returns in June and dies in Six Weeks—George one of his Executors—What Everett says of it—Enters Masonic Lodge—His Commission renewed—Duties pressing upon him—Signs of War—Encroachments by the French—The Claims of the Indians—What a Chief said—The Governor's Conference with Gist—Mission to the French proposed—George offers his Services—Interview with Governor Dinwiddie—A Copy of his Commission—His Companions—Visits his Mother—Letter to French Commander | [150] |
IX.
MISSION TO THE FRENCH.
| The Journey begun—Route—A Storm—A Torrent—Baggage on Canal—Visit to Shingiss—Tanacharisson—Monochatica—Meeting Deserters—Learning of the Forts from there to New Orleans—The Half-king—Describes his Visit to Pierre Paul, now Dead—His Speech—Pierre Paul's Reply—Indian Council and Washington's Speech—Indian's Reply—Results of the Council—Indians to conduct them to the Fort—Journey delayed—Way to Venango—Arrival and Conference with the French—Dinner Scene—Information | [163] |
X.
FRENCH MISSION—(CONTINUED.)
| The Next Fort—Introduction to Commander—Arrival of Paul's Successor—Receives Dinwiddie's Letter—Washington draws Plan of the Fort—His Inquiries about Certain Captures—Reparti's Reply to Dinwiddie—French attempt to bribe Indians—Injury to White Thunder, and Delay—Return Journey—Snow—Washington and Gist leave the Party—Their Adventure—The Indian Guide—He proves False—A Startling Episode—The Indian disposed of—Reaching the River—Building a Raft—Attempt to Cross—Washington straggling in the Water—They reach an Island—Escape—Twenty Indian Warriors—The Indian Queen—Arrival at Williamsburg—Interview with the Governor—His Journal printed | [178] |
XI.
HIS FIRST BATTLE.
| Effect of Washington's Mission—Orders from the King—Recruiting—The Governor's Bounty to Soldiers—Washington offered the Command—Talk with a Friend—Letter to Colonel Corbin—Does not accept Command—Payne knocks Washington down—How the Affair ended—What McGuire says of Washington's Magnanimity—Washington takes up his March—Meeting Captain Trent—Need of More Men—Courier announces Surrender of Fort—Declaration of War—Washington's Prompt Action—March to Red Stone Creek and Great Meadows—The French surprised, and a Battle—Jumonville killed—Entrenching at Great Meadows—Short of Supplies—His Own Chaplain—Order against Swearing—Marching to meet the Foe—Retreat to Great Meadows—A Hot Battle—Washington surrenders—Return to Williamsburg—Honors, and Larger Provisions—Death of Jumonville justified—Dinwiddie's Words | [194] |
XII.
ON GENERAL BRADDOCK'S STAFF.
| Governor Dinwiddie's Proposition—Washington dissents—Dinwiddie insists—Washington's Letter—His Rank reduced from Colonel to Captain—He resigns, and retires to Mount Vernon—The Enterprise abandoned—A Convention of the Colonies—The King sends General Braddock with Army—He demands the Services of Washington—Their Correspondence and Interview—Washington's Motive—On the Staff—Meeting with his Mother—The March begins—Grand Spectacle—Braddock's Talk with Dr. Franklin—Underrating Indian Tactics—Washington disabled by Sickness—Talk with Braddock about Indians—Army Wagons Useless—Braddock's Temper and Love of Drink—Good Disciplinarian—Washington's Advice rejected—Indian Allies—How deserted—What Scarvoyadi said—Surprised by Indians—Terrible Battle—Washington's Bravery—Dr. Craik's Word—An Eye-witness—How British fought—Braddock mortally wounded—Whole Command on Washington—Retreat—Braddock's Confession—Dies at Fort Necessity—Burial—Horrible Scenes at Duquesne—Testimony of a Prisoner—Words of Washington—Letter to his Mother—Letter to his Brother | [211] |
XIII.
ON THE FRONTIER.
| General Dunbar a Coward—Goes into Winter Quarters in Philadelphia—Assembly meets—Washington's Advice to the Governor—The Assembly Timid—Washington appointed Commander-in-chief of Virginia Forces—Failure of the Other Expeditions—Conference with Fairfax—Headquarters at Winchester—A Great Scare—Its Funny Termination—Washington's Appeal to Dinwiddie—Trouble with Captain Dagworthy—Goes to Boston on Horseback—Meets Miss Phillips in New York—Honors—His Return—Love in New York—Sudden Alarm calls him to Winchester—Hurried Steps at Defence—Letter to Loudoun describing the Condition of Frontier—Appeal to Dinwiddie for the Terrified People—Indian Atrocities—Dreadful Scenes described by Washington—Washington Sick Four Months—Changes | [232] |
XIV.
A RIFT IN THE CLOUD.
| Great Need of the Hour—The People Timid—Washington's Mother again—Another Expedition against Duquesne—Size of the Army—Goes to Williamsburg—Mr. Chamberlain's Salutation—Stops to Dine—Meets Mrs. Custis—A Widow Bewitching—Business done—Returning, stops to see Mrs. Custis—A Treaty of Love—The New Road Project—Washington opposes it—Elected to House of Burgesses—Delay—Army moved in September—Braddock's Folly repeated—Washington overruled—His Prophecy—Major Grant—His Reckless Course—Conceit of Grant and Forbes—Marching into an Indian Ambuscade—A Bloody Battle—Defeat of the English—Retreat—Where was Washington—His Views—Forbes proposes Winter Quarters—Washington proposes and leads Another Attack—The Enemy escapes from the Fort—Washington plants Flag over it—Leaves Force to rebuild—French War ended—Washington resigns—Goes to Mount Vernon—Testimonial of Officers | [249] |
XV.
HIS WIFE AND HOME.
| Who was Mrs. Custis—Rich and Beautiful—Washington's Marriage—What Negro said of him—Took Seat in House of Burgesses—Happy Man—The Legislature do him Honor—Removes to Mount Vernon—His Estates described—Sixteen Spinning Wheels—Mrs. Washington at the Head—Irving's Description—Rank necessarily maintained—Company, and English Style—Mrs. Washington's Wardrobe—His Wardrobe—Education of her Children—Their Wardrobe—Her Kindness to Slaves—Domestic Habits—Washington labored on Farm—Systematic Habits—Improvements on Farm—Reclaiming Dismal Swamp—Hunting in Winter—Interlopers, and the War against them—The Hunter conquered—Attending Episcopal Church—Mrs. Washington a Devout Christian—Building a House of Worship—Washington at Church—Death of Mrs. Washington's Daughter—The Son Wayward—Letter about Love—King's College, and Incident—Keeping his Books—In her Husband's Headquarters in Winter—Death—Mount Vernon now | [270] |
XVI.
COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF.
| More Indian Depredations, and War—Washington's Conference with Mason on English Tyranny—Taxation without Representation—Oppressive Acts multiplied—The Stamp Act—Patrick Henry in the Assembly—Treason—Governor dissolved the Assembly—A Re-election—Washington stands with Patrick Henry—Discussion with Fairfax on the State of Affairs—Dr. Franklin before a Committee of Parliament—Friends of America in Parliament—Next Assembly Bolder, and dissolved by Governor—Washington's Plan to use no Articles taxed—The Tax removed except on Tea—Tea thrown into Boston Harbor—Action of the Citizens against British Soldiers—Day of Fasting and Prayer—Effigies and Mock Processions Boston Port Bill—Washington's Journey to Ohio in Behalf of his Old Soldiers—First American Congress—The Chaplain Memorial to the King—Chatham's Defence of the Colonies—British Soldiers sent to Boston—The Patriots aroused—Battles of Lexington and Concord—The Revolution begun—Putnam and the Grand Rally—Second American Congress—Washington and Adams—Raise an Army, and choose Washington for Commander-in-chief—Adams' Opinion of him | [295] |
XVII.
IN THE SIEGE OF BOSTON.
| Adams to Washington—Prepares to Take Command—Letter to Mrs. Washington—His Will—Another Letter—Starts—Meets a Courier—His Journey—Legislature—Assumes Command—Mrs. Adams' Opinion—Talk with Gen. Ward—Order and Discipline—Condition of the Army—Washington's first Order—Change Wrought—Scarcity of Powder—Feat of Knox—Washington's Headquarters—Day of Fasting—Arrival of Supplies—Cruelty of British to Prisoners—Remonstrance Against—Retaliation—Army Reduced—Feelings of Washington—Proposed Attack on Boston—His Plan—Cannonading Described—British Repulsed by Storm—Boston Evacuated—British Depredation—Washington Provides for Charity at Home—Mrs. Washington in Cambridge—His Rigid Discipline, an Incident—Old South and North Church—A Theatre and a Scare—British Pride Humbled—Action of Congress | [321] |
XVIII.
DEFENDING NEW YORK.
| Where the Enemy is going—General Putnam in Command at New York—Washington Goes There—Hears from the Enemy—Condition of our Army in New York—Words of Washington—Letter to his Brother—Action of Congress—Plot to Seize Washington—A Conspirator Hung—Enemy in the Harbor—Declaration of Independence Read to the Army—Statue of George III. destroyed—Putnam and Hamilton—Sir Henry Clinton—Attacking Fort Moultrie—Cudjo—The Army encouraged—The Corporal rebuked—The Sabbath honored—Washington's Address—Army in Bad plight—Order against Profanity—The Enemy moving to capture Brooklyn Heights—Livingston's Message—Washington's Address to Army—Terrible Battle—Americans retreat under cover of Storm—What Sparks says of it—A Council of War—Deserters—Retreat from New York—Stand at Harlem—Nathan Hale—Washington's Daring—Great Fire in New York—Loss in Canada—Disaffection in Army—General Lee returns to Harlem—Council of War—Another Retreat necessary | [349] |
XIX.
FROM HARLEM TO TRENTON.
| Fort Washington and Allies—Retreat to White Plains—Looking for a Position—The Enemy in Camp—A Battle—Falling back to North Castle—The Enemy withdraw—What Washington suspected—Advised to evacuate Fort Washington—The Enemy capture the Fort—Gloomy Times—Retreat over the Hackensack—Retreat to Newark—General Lee disobeying Orders—Further Retreat—Boats for Seventy Miles collected—Disappointment and a Plot—Opposition to Washington—Retreat to Trenton—Darkest Hour yet—Washington still hopeful—Will retreat over every River and Mountain—General Lee's Treasonable Course—General Heath's Firmness—Crossing the Delaware—Skill of Washington in Retreating—Lee still disobeys Orders—Lee's Folly and Capture—Magnanimity of Washington | [372] |
XX.
BATTLES OF TRENTON AND PRINCETON.
| Putnam fortifying Philadelphia—Congress investing Washington with More Power—Arrival of Troops—Startling Proposition by Washington—Recrosses the Delaware to Fight—His Address to his Army—The Battle—The Enemy driven—The Hessian Commander mortally wounded—Fruits of this Victory—The Welcome News spreads—Washington sees the Time for Another Blow—Over the Delaware again—Raises Money for the Army—Action of Congress—The Enemy marching from Princeton—A Battle—Cornwallis outwitted—God on the Side of the Weak Battalions—Battle of Princeton—An Affecting Incident—Cornwallis at his Wits End—Results of the Battle—Fall of General Mercer—His Bravery to the End—Washington goes to Morristown for Winter Quarters—The Enemy Panic-stricken—Driven out of Jersey—Wonderful Achievements in Ten Days—Tributes of Praise—Camp at Morristown broken up—Celebrating the Lord's Supper—Encamped at Germantown—British Fleet appears—Washington meets Lafayette, and appoints him on his Staff—Some Account of the Young Nobleman | [389] |
XXI.
DEFEAT AND VICTORY.
| Plans of the British for 1777—A Temperance Officer—Battle of Bennington—Grand Victory—Battle at Fort Schuyler—Indian Butchery—Miss McCrea murdered by them—Battle of Brandywine—Lafayette wounded—Providential Care—Battle of Germantown, and Results—Washington's Daring—Forts reduced, and the Enemy take Philadelphia—Burgoyne captured, and his Supplies—Kosciusko—The British revelling in Philadelphia—Washington in Winter Quarters at Valley Forge—Famine in Camp, and Great Sufferings—Washington feeding a Soldier—A Conspiracy against the Chief—Dr. Craik—Hamilton—Mrs. Washington in Camp—Her Pity for Soldiers—Washington engaged in Prayer—Baron Stuben—Pulaski—Exchange of Distinguished Prisoners—Alliance with France—Council of War—British evacuate Philadelphia—Pursued—Battle of Monmouth—A Thrilling Incident, and Dr. Griffith—The Fifer Boy—Lee's Cowardly Conduct—Hamilton—Washington's Exposure to Death—Grand Victory—Enemy retreat—Lee Court-martialed—Arrival of French Fleet—Winter Quarters at Middlebrook—Cruelties of the Enemy—Massacres of Cherry Valley and Wyoming—Scenes at close of 1779—British Cruelty to Prisoners in the "Sugar House" and "Jersey Prison-ship" | [405] |
XXII.
CLOSE OF THE WAR.
| Treason of Arnold—How Accomplished—Capture and Execution of André—Arnold serving in the British Army—Ravages in Virginia—Attacking Mount Vernon—Washington goes South—Calls at Mount Vernon—Joins Lafayette at Williamsburg—Attacks Cornwallis at Yorktown—Bombardment—Governor Nelson—Taking of Two Redoubts—Washington's Narrow Escape—Surrender of Cornwallis—Washington's Order—Fruits of the Victory—The Formal Delivery of Cornwallis' Sword—Delivery of Flags—Divine Service—Sickness and Death of his Step-son—Sad Scene—Help of French Fleet—God for Small Battalions again—Washington's War-horse—News of Cornwallis' Surrender in Philadelphia—Action of Congress, and Day of Thanksgiving—News in England—Washington's Plan to Push the War | [426] |
XXIII.
PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES.
| Conference with Lafayette—Negotiations for War—Sir Henry Clinton—Treaty of Peace—What America Won, and England Lost—Washington Parting with his Soldiers—Meets Congress at Annapolis—Retires to Mount Vernon—Improvement of his Mansion and Plantations—Encourages Education—Refuses Gift of $40,000—Generosity to the Poor—A Pleasing Incident—Meeting Payne again—His Industry—In Convention to Form Constitution—Elected President—Reluctance to Accept—Journey to New York—Ovation at Trenton—At New York—His Cabinet—Style of Living—Grooming Horses—His Sickness—Tour through New England—Example of Punctuality—Too Late for Dinner—The Pair of Horses—Presidential Mansion—The Injured Debtor—Urged for Second Presidential Term—Elected—Fruits of it—Tour South, and Punctuality—Amount of his Work—Thoroughness—Civil Service Reform—Lafayette in Exile—Washington's Maxims—Offered a Third Term—Farewell Address—Retirement—His Opposition to Slavery—Emancipation of them—The Result | [440] |
XXIV.
DEATH AND FUNERAL CEREMONIES.
| Exposure and Cold—Ignores Wise Suggestions—Severe Attack—Rawlins bleeds him—Believes his End is Near, and Resignation—His Will—The Physicians arrive—All Remedies fail—His Last Request—Death—Mrs. Washington's Words—What Custis says of her—Sad Tidings spread—Action of Congress—The Senate's Letter to President Adams—The Funeral at Mount Vernon—Sorrow Universal—What Irving says—Eulogy by Fisher Ames—Lord Brougham's Estimate—Everett's Final Conclusion, and Father of His Country | [484] |
XXV.
| Eulogy by General Henry Lee | [491] |
LIFE OF WASHINGTON
I
ANCESTORS AND BIRTH.
More than two hundred years ago, when America was chiefly inhabited by Indians two brothers, in England, John and Lawrence Washington, resolved to remove hither. As they were not poor, doomed to eke out a miserable existence from a reluctant soil, it is supposed that politics was the immediate cause of their removal. It was during the reign of Cromwell, and he made it hot for his enemies. In 1655 a general insurrection was attempted, and the vengeance of Cromwell descended upon the heads of all the participants and not a few of their friends, making their land an uncomfortable place for a residence. There is no evidence that these brothers were engaged in the insurrection; but there is quite sufficient proof that the political situation was stormy, subjecting the Washington family to frequent molestation.
Edward Everett says: "There is no doubt that the politics of the family determined the two brothers, John and Lawrence, to emigrate to Virginia; that colony being the favorite resort of the Cavaliers, during the government of Cromwell, as New England was the retreat of the Puritans, in the period which preceded the Commonwealth."
We suspect that these brothers did not understand Indians as well as they did Cromwell, or they would not have been so willing to exchange the latter for the former. However, English colonists had settled in the wilderness of Virginia, and, possibly, some of their own acquaintances were already there. They knew somewhat of that particular portion of the new world, and what they knew was generally favorable. Being young men, too, unmarried, intelligent, adventurous and fearless, life in America appeared to them romantic rather than otherwise. Be this as it may, John and Lawrence Washington removed to this country in 1657, and settled in Westmoreland County, Virginia.
One fact indicates that they belonged to a noble ancestry. Lawrence was educated at Oxford University, and was a lawyer by profession, and therefore was a young man of rank and promise, while John was engaged in business and resided on a valuable estate at South Cove in Yorkshire. They were young men of brains and tact, fitted by natural endowments and education to lay the foundation of things in a new country. They descended from an ancestry of honor and influence from the twelfth century. That ancestry lived in warlike times. Some of them were renowned for deeds of heroism. All of them were known for loyalty, intelligence and solidity of character. Washington Irving paid a visit to the ancient "Washington's manor" at Sulgrave, several years before he wrote the "Life of George Washington," and he said,—
"It was in a rural neighborhood, where the farm-houses were quaint and antiquated. A part only of the manor-house remained, and was inhabited by a farmer. The Washington crest, in colored glass, was to be seen in a window of what is now the buttery. A window, on which the whole family arms was emblazoned, had been removed to the residence of the actual proprietor of the manor. Another relic of the ancient manor of the Washingtons was a rookery in a venerable grove hard by. The rooks, those staunch adherents to old family abodes, still hovered and cawed about their hereditary nests. In the pavement of the parish church we were shown a stone slab, bearing effigies, on plates of brass, of Lawrence Washington, gent., and Anne his wife, and their four sons and eleven daughters. The inscription, in black letters, was dated 1564."
A nephew of John and Lawrence Washington, Sir Henry Washington, distinguished himself in the civil wars, under Prince Rupert, at the storming of Bristol, where he broke through the wall with a handful of infantry after the assailants had been beaten off, and led the forces to victory. For his prowess he was promoted, and was in command at Worcester, when that place was stormed, at a time when the king fled from Oxford in disguise and the loyal cause was in peril. He received a letter from General Fairfax, whose victorious army was at Haddington, demanding the immediate surrender of Worcester. Colonel Washington replied:
"Sir,—It is acknowledged by your books, and by report of your own quarter, that the king is in some of your armies. That granted, it may be easy for you to procure his majesty's commands for the disposal of this garrison. Till then, I shall make good the trust reposed in me. As for conditions, if I shall be necessitated, I shall make the best I can. The worst I know, and fear not; if I had, the profession of a soldier had not been begun, nor so long continued by your Excellency's humble servant." Henry Washington.
For three months he withstood the siege, experiencing hunger and hardship, until his Majesty ordered capitulation.
Irving says of this heroic stand, "Those who believe in hereditary virtues may see foreshadowed in the conduct of this Washington of Worcester, the magnanimous constancy of purpose, the disposition to 'hope against hope,' which bore our Washington triumphantly through the darkest days of our revolution."
It appears that the Washingtons were first in war as well as in peace, centuries ago. There was wealth, fame and influence in the family, from generation to generation. Their prominence in the grand hunt of those times proves their high social and public position.
Irvington says, "Hunting came next to war in those days, as the occupation of the nobility and gentry. The clergy engaged in it equally with the laity. The hunting establishment of the Bishop of Durham (who belonged to the Washington family) was on a princely scale. He had his forests, chases and parks, with their train of foresters, rangers and park-keepers. A grand hunt was a splendid pageant, in which all his barons and knights attended him with horse and hound."
Later, the famous English fox-hunting, in which noblemen engaged with great pomp and expense, engaged the attention of the Washingtons. We refer to the fact here, because it will explain certain things connected with the life and times of our George Washington in Virginia.
Everett says, "It may be mentioned as a somewhat striking fact, and one I believe not hitherto adverted to, that the families of Washington and Franklin—the former the great leader of the American Revolution, the latter not second to any of his patriotic associates—were established for several generations in the same central county of Northamptonshire, and within a few miles of each other; the Washingtons at Brighton and Sulgrave, belonging to the landed gentry of the county, and in the great civil war supporting the royal side; the Franklins, at the village of Ecton, living on the produce of a farm of thirty acres, and the earnings of their trade as blacksmiths, and espousing,—some of them, at least, and the father and uncle of Benjamin Franklin among the number,—the principles of the non-conformists. Their respective emigrations, germs of great events, in history, took place,—that of John Washington, the great-grandfather of George, in 1657, to loyal Virginia,—that of Josiah Franklin, the father of Benjamin, about the year 1685, to the metropolis of Puritan New England."
This brief sketch of the Washington family in the mother country must suffice. Its history in our country began in 1657, on the West Bank of the Potomac, about fifty miles from its entrance into Chesapeake Bay, in Westmoreland County. The two brothers, John and Lawrence, purchased an estate of several thousand acres there, and erected thereon a comfortable dwelling. In process of time, John married Miss Anne Pope, and went to reside on Bridge's Creek. Two sons, Lawrence and John, and a daughter, were the fruits of his union. Lawrence, the oldest son, married Mildred Warner, daughter of Colonel Augustus Warner, by whom he had three children, John, Augustine and Mildred. The second son, Augustine, became the father of George Washington. He married Jane Butler, by whom he had four children—Butler, Lawrence, Augustine and Jane. His wife died; and two years thereafter, Mary Ball, a young lady of great beauty, became his second wife. They were married March 6, 1730. Their first child was George, who was born February 22, 1732. Five other children—Betty, Samuel, John Augustine, Charles and Mildred—were added to the family.
John Washington, grandfather of Augustine, distinguished himself in military affairs, and became lieutenant-colonel in the wars against the Indians. He was one of the largest planters in the colony, and became one of the most influential men. In time he became a magistrate and a member of the House of Burgesses. The name of the parish in which he lived—Washington—was derived from him.
Augustine Washington, father of George, lived on Pope's Creek when the latter was born, about one-half mile from the Potomac. The house in which George was born was pulled down or burned before the Revolution.
The site is now designated by a slab, bearing the inscription:
Here,
On the 11th of February (Old Style), 1732,
George Washington
Was Born.
The slab was placed there by George Washington Parke Custis—his grandson—sixty-seven years ago. Thirty-six years after he performed the grateful act, he published the following account of it in the Alexandria Gazette:
"In June, 1815, I sailed on my own vessel, the 'Lady of the Lake,' a fine top-sail schooner of ninety tons, accompanied by two gentlemen, Messrs. Lewis and Grimes, bound to Pope's Creek, in the county of Westmoreland, carrying with us a slab of freestone, having the following inscription:
Here,
On the 11th of February, 1732, (Old Style),
George Washington
Was Born.
"Our pilot approached the Westmoreland shore cautiously (as our vessel drew nearly eight feet of water), and he was but indifferently acquainted with so unfrequented a navigation.
"Desirous of making the ceremonial of depositing the stone as imposing as circumstances would permit, we enveloped it in the 'star-spangled banner' of our country, and it was borne to its resting place in the arms of the descendants of four revolutionary patriots and soldiers—Samuel Lewis, son of George Lewis, a captain in Baylor's regiment of horse, and a nephew of Washington; William Grimes, the son of Benjamin Grimes, a gallant and distinguished officer of the Life-guard; the Captain of the vessel, the son of a brave soldier wounded in the battle of Guilford; and George W. P. Custis, the son of John Parke Custis, aid-de-camp to the commander-in-chief before Cambridge and Yorktown.
"We gathered together the bricks of an ancient chimney that once formed the hearth around which Washington in his infancy had played, and constructed a rude kind of a pedestal, on which we reverently placed the FIRST STONE, commending it to the attention and respect of the American people in general, and to the citizens of Westmoreland in particular.
"Bidding adieu to those who had received us so kindly, we re-embarked and hoisted our colors, and being provided with a piece of canon and suitable ammunition, we fired a salute, awakening the echoes that had slept for ages around the hallowed spot; and while the smoke of our martial tribute to the birth-place of the Pater Patriæ still lingered on the bosom of the Potomac, we spread our sails to a favoring breeze, and sped joyously to our homes."
Mr. Paulding, in his life of Washington, describes the place as follows:
"A few scanty relics alone remain to mark the spot, which will ever be sacred in the eyes of posterity. A clump of old decayed fig trees, probably coeval with the mansion, yet exists; and a number of vines and shrubs and flowers still reproduce themselves every year, as if to mark its site, and flourish among the hallowed ruins. The spot is of the deepest interest, not only from its associations, but its natural beauties. It commands a view of the Maryland shore of the Potomac, one of the most majestic of rivers and of its course for many miles towards the Chesapeake Bay. An aged gentlemen, still living in the neighborhood, remembers the house in which Washington was born. It was a low-pitched, single-storied frame building, with four rooms on the first floor, and an enormous chimney at each end on the outside. This was the style of the better sort of houses in those days, and they are still occasionally seen in the old settlements of Virginia."
Irving says that "the roof was steep, and sloped down into low, projecting eaves;" so that an artist's eye can readily see the house as it was.
Let the reader bear in mind that John Washington was the founder of the Washington family in America, and George Washington was his great-grandson.
George was baptized on the 5th of April following, when he was about six weeks old. Mrs. Mildred Gregory acted as godmother, and Mr. Beverly Whiting and Captain Christopher Brooks, godfathers.
When George was four or five years old, his father resolved to move to a plantation on the banks of the Rappahannock River, opposite Fredericksburg.
"There are many advantages in that locality," he remarked to his wife; "besides, the land is better."
"There can't be much fault found with the land anywhere in this part of the country," responded Mrs. Washington. "It needs little but using."
"Very true; but somehow I have taken a great liking to the banks of the Rappahannock," continued Mr. Washington. "The children will like the change, I know."
"That may be; children like change; a novelty just suits them," answered Mrs. Washington. "I have never known them to express dissatisfaction with this place. They are about as happy as children can well be."
"There can be no doubt of that, judging from daily observation," responded her husband, somewhat facetiously. "If a change does not add to the sum total of their happiness, I trust that it will not subtract much from it."
"Understand me," continued Mrs. Washington, "I am not setting myself up in opposition to your plan of removing. It may prove the very best thing for us all. We sha'n't know till we try."
"Well, I think I shall try it," added Mr. Washington.
And he did try it. He removed to the aforesaid locality in the year 1737. The estate was already his own.
The reader must know from what has been said already, that estates of two, three and five thousand acres, in Virginia, at that time, were common. Many wealthy English families, fond of rural life, and coveting ample grounds for hunting and roaming, had settled in the "Old Dominion," where land was cheap as well as fertile. The Washington family was one of them. From the day that John Washington and his brother settled in Virginia, they and their numerous descendants were large landholders. When George was forty-one years of age, just before the stirring scenes of the Revolution, we find him writing to a Mr. Calvert of George Washington Parke Custis:
"Mr. Custis' estate consists of about fifteen thousand acres of land, a good part of it adjoining the city of Williamsburg, and none of it forty miles from that place; several lots in the said city; between two and three hundred negroes, and about eight or ten thousand pounds upon bond, and in the hands of his merchants. This estate he now holds independent of his mother's dower, which will be an addition to it at her death."
Wealthy families at that time lived in expensive style. They kept their "turn-outs and liveried servants," as we call them now, and made an imposing appearance on public occasions. The proprietors were "gentlemen farmers," whose mansions were conducted on a grand scale of hospitality. Everybody was welcome, even Indians.
When George's father removed to the banks of the Rappahannock, one vast, unbroken forest, on either side, met his view. The woodman's axe had opened only here and there a patch of the woods to the light of the sun. These forests abounded with game, and had long been the hunting ground of the red men. The river swarmed with water-fowl of various names and plumage, and often the Indian's birch canoe darted over its waters like a spirit.
The Colony supported a military organization at that time. The Indians were friendly to the English colonists, but they might not continue to be. England and France were friendly to each other, also, yet both had an eye upon the same possessions in the new world. There was no telling how soon a resort to arms might be inevitable. The militia must be maintained against the time of need.
George was almost too young to appreciate the danger when his ears first listened to tales of Indian depredations.
"Several families murdered in cold blood by roving savages," was the news Mr. Washington brought home one day.
"Where? Where?" Mrs. Washington inquired, with evident anxiety.
"A long way from here," her husband replied, "but it shows the murderous spirit of Indians all the same."
"A treacherous race!" remarked Mrs. Washington.
"Yes; treacherous indeed!" her husband replied, "There is no telling what is in store for us, in my opinion."
"There is no more reason for their murdering white men and woman so far away than there is for their doing it near by us," suggested Mrs. Washington.
"None whatever. Revenge, or desire for plunder, prompted the deed, no doubt; and revenge or hope of plunder is just as likely to move them here as there to killing and burning," Mr. Washington said.
Occasional startling news of this kind, discussed in the family, was listened to by George, whose precocity took in the situation well for one so young. Early in life he had a good understanding of Indian character, and of the trouble that might come to the colonists through these savage denizens of the forest. There is good evidence that apprehensions of Indian hostilities filled him with anxiety long before they actually commenced.
At that time, also, negro slavery existed among the colonists. The large estates were worked by slave labor. The Washington family held slaves. Some planters owned several hundred. As there was no question raised about the right or wrong of the slave system, it is probable that George's mind was not exercised upon the subject. He grew up in the midst of the institution without calling in question its rectitude. We mention the fact here, because it was one of the early influences of his ancestry and birth-place which must have been offset by home instructions and the rapid unfolding of a singularly manly character.
II.
BOYHOOD.
It is fortunate that the materials of Washington's early life were preserved by one who was rector of the Mount Vernon parish while members of the family and other friends survived. Rev. M. L. Weems ministered there seventy-five years ago, and he gathered information from a woman who was neighbor to the Washingtons in her childhood, and from John Fitzhugh, who was often with George in his early home. In addition, descendants of the family, who had fondly preserved valuable incidents of their illustrious ancestor's boyhood and manhood, furnished them for his biography by their pastor. We are indebted to Mr. Weems for most of the facts relating to Washington's boyhood.
In the autumn of 1737, Mr. Washington went to the door of a neighbor and relative, leading George by the hand. The woman who related the incident to Mr. Weems was a little girl at that time, and was visiting the family.
"Will you take a walk with us?" inquired George's father, addressing himself to the girl just mentioned, and her cousin, whose name was Washington.
"We are going to take a walk in the orchard," continued Mr. Washington. "It is a fine sight now."
Both of the parties addressed promptly accepted the invitation, delighted to take a stroll among the trees that were bending under their burden of fruit.
A walk of a half-mile brought them to the orchard, where an unusual spectacle awaited them.
"Oh, see the apples!" exclaimed George. "Such a lot of them!" And he clapped his hands and fairly danced in his excitement.
"I never saw such a sight," said the girl who accompanied them.
"It is a spectacle, indeed!" responded Mr. Washington. "It is not often we see so much fruit in one field as we see here."
It was not so much the enormous crop of apples upon the trees, as it was the great quantity on the ground beneath them that attracted George. The winds had relieved the trees of a portion of their burden, and the ground was literally covered with the luscious fruit. George had never beheld such a display of apples, and his young heart bounded with delight over the scene.
They roamed through the orchard for a time, chatting and enjoying the occasion thoroughly, when Mr. Washington rather disturbed the flow of animal spirits by saying,—
"Now, George, look here, my son! Don't you remember when this good cousin of yours (referring to the lad who was with them) brought you that fine large apple last spring, how hardly I could prevail on you to divide it with your brothers and sisters, though I promised you that if you would but do it God would give you plenty of apples this fall."
George made no reply but hung his head in shame. He had not forgotten his selfishness on that occasion, and he was greatly mortified.
His father continued,—
"Now, look up, my son; look up, George! See how richly the blessed God has made good my promise to you. Wherever you turn your eyes, you see the trees loaded with fine fruit; many of them, indeed, breaking down; while the ground is covered with mellow apples, more than you could eat, my son, in all your life-time."
George made no reply. His young companions stood in silence, gazing at him, as if wondering what all this counsel meant. Mr. Washington waited for his son to speak; and just as he was concluding that George had nothing to say for himself, the latter turned manfully to his father, and said:
"Well, pa, only forgive me this time, and see if I am ever stingy any more."
Mr. Washington had a purpose in going to the orchard, and it was well accomplished. His son got one nobler idea into his head, and one nobler resolve into his heart. Henceforth the noble boy would treat selfishness as a foe instead of a friend.
Mr. Washington resorted to the following device to impress his son with a proper conception of God as the Creator of all things. In the spring he carefully prepared a bed in the garden, beside the walk, where George would frequently go for pleasure. When the bed was prepared, he wrote George's name in full in the pulverized earth, and sowed the same with cabbage seed. In due time, of course, the seed appeared in green, thrifty shoots, forming the letters as clearly as they stand in the alphabet. George discovered them one day. He was then seven or eight years old. He stood for a moment in silent wonder.
"Those are letters sure enough," he thought.
Then he read them aloud, "G-E-O-R-G-E W-A-S-H-I-N-G-T-O-N."
With wondering eyes he rushed to the house, and excitedly broke the news.
"Oh, pa, come here! come here!"
"What's the matter, my son? what's the matter?" responded his father.
"Oh, come here, I tell you, pa; come here!" and the boy could scarcely contain himself, so great was his excitement.
"But what is it, my son? Can't you tell me what has happened?"
"Come here, and I'll show you the greatest sight you ever saw in your life!"
By this time he was pulling his father along towards the garden, the latter understanding full well what had happened. Very soon they reached the bed, where the bright, thrifty cabbage plants had spelled the name of GEORGE WASHINGTON in full.
"There, pa!" exclaimed George, pointing to his name in cabbage plants, and exhibiting the greatest astonishment by his appearance. "Did you ever see such a sight in all your life-time?"
"Well, George, it does seem like a curious affair sure enough," his father answered. "But who should make it there, pa? Who made it there?"
"Why, it grew there, of course, my son."
"No, pa! No, no! somebody put it there."
"Then you think it did not grow there by chance?"
"No, indeed, it never did. That couldn't be."
"How is that, my son? Don't it look very much like chance?"
"Why, no, pa; did you ever know anybody's name in a plant bed before?"
"Well, George, might not such a thing happen though I never saw it before?"
"Yes, pa; but I never saw plants grow up so as to make a single letter of my name before. How could they grow up so as to make all the letters of my name! And all standing one after another so as to spell my name exactly—and all so nice and even, too, at top and bottom! Somebody did it. You did it, pa, to scare me, because I am your little boy."
"Well, George, you have guessed right," answered Mr. Washington. "I did do it, but not to scare you, my son, but to teach you a great truth which I wish you to understand. I want to introduce you to your true Father."
"Ain't you my true father, pa?"
"Yes, I am your father, George, as the world calls it, and love you with a father's love. Yet, with all my love for you, I am but a poor father in comparison with your true Father."
"I know well enough whom you mean," continued George. "You mean God, don't you?"
"Yes, I mean Him, indeed, my son. He is your true Father," was Mr. Washington's hearty answer.
George went on with his inquiries, and his father, answered, adding at last:
"Well, then, as you could not believe that chance had made and put together so exactly the letters of your name (though only sixteen), then how can you believe that chance could have made and put together all those millions and millions of things that are now so exactly fitted for your good! Eyes to see with; ears to hear with; nose to smell with; a mouth to eat with; teeth to bite with; hands to handle with; feet to walk with; a mind to think with; a heart to love with; a home to live in; parents to care for you, and brothers and sisters to love you! Why, look at this beautiful world in which you live, with its golden, light to cheer you by day, and its still night to wrap you in sleep when you are too tired to play; its fruits, and flowers and fields of grass and grain; its horses to draw you and cows to give you milk; its sheep to furnish wool to cloth you, and meat for your food; its sun, moon and stars to comfort you; bubbling springs to quench your thirst; wood to burn that you may be warm in winter; and ten thousand other good things—so many that my son could never number them all, or even think of them! Could chance bring about all these things so exactly as to suit your wants and wishes?"
"No, pa, chance could not do it," answered George, really taking in this new view of the world around him.
"What was it, then, do you think, my son?" continued his father.
"God did it," George replied.
"Yes, George, it is all the work of God, and nobody else," responded his father. "He gives us all."
"Does God give me everything? Don't you give me some things?" George inquired.
"I give you something!" exclaimed his father. "How can I give you anything, George? I who have nothing on earth I can call my own; no, not even the breath I draw!"
"Ain't the house yours, and the garden, and the horses and oxen and sheep?" still inquired George, failing to comprehend the great truth of God's ownership.
"Oh, no, my son, no! Why, you make me shrink into nothing, George, when you talk of all these things belonging to me, who can't even make a grain of sand! How could I give life to the oxen and horses, when I can't give life even to a fly, my son?"
George was introduced into a new world by this lesson, as his father intended that he should be. His precocious mind grasped, finally, the great idea of his "true Father," and the lesson never had to be repeated.
We have rehearsed this incident somewhat in detail as given by Mr. Weems, because its influence will be found interwoven with George's future private and public life.
Another story told by Mr. Weems is the famous hatchet story, which has been rehearsed to so many children, since that day, to rebuke falsehood and promote truth-telling.
His father made him a present of a hatchet with which George was especially delighted. Of course he proceeded forthwith to try it, first hacking his mother's pea-sticks, and, finally, trying its edge upon the body of a beautiful "English cherry-tree." Without understanding that he was destroying the tree, he chopped away upon it to his heart's content, leaving the bark, if not the solid wood underneath, in a very dilapidated condition. The next morning his father discovered the trespass, and, rushing into the house, under much excitement, he exclaimed:
"My beautiful cherry-tree is utterly ruined. Who could hack it in that manner?"
Nobody knew.
"I would not have taken five guineas for it," he added, with a long-drawn sigh. The words had scarcely escaped from his lips before George appeared with his hatchet.
"George," said his father, "do you know who killed that cherry-tree in the garden?"
George had not stopped to think, until that moment, that he had used his hatchet improperly. His father's question was a revelation to him; and he hung his head in a guilty manner for a moment.
"George, did you do it?" urged his father.
Raising his head, and looking his father fully in the face, he replied:
"I can't tell a lie, pa; you know I can't tell a lie, I did cut it with my hatchet."
Mr. Washington was well-nigh overcome by this frank and honest reply. For a moment he stood spell bound; then recovering himself, he exclaimed:
"Come to my arms, my boy! You have paid for the cherry-tree a thousand times over. Such an act of heroism is worth more to me than a thousand trees!"
Mr. Weems regards this honest confession the out-growth of previous instructions upon the sin of lying and the beauty of truthfulness. He represents Mr. Washington as saying to his son:
"Truth, George, is the loveliest quality of youth. I would ride fifty miles, my son, to see the little boy whose heart is so honest, and his lips so pure, that we may depend on every word he says."
"But, oh, how different, George, is the case with the boy who is so given to lying that nobody can believe a word he says. He is looked at with aversion wherever he goes, and parents dread to see him come among their children. O George, rather than see you come to this pass, dear as you are to me, I would follow you to your grave."
Here George protested against being charged with lying. "Do I ever tell lies?" he asked.
"No, George, I thank God you do not; and I rejoice in the hope that you never will. At least, you shall never, from me, have cause to be guilty of so shameful a thing. You know I have always told you, and now tell you again, that, whenever by accident you do anything wrong, which must often be the case, as you are but a little boy, without experience or knowledge, never tell a falsehood to conceal it; but come bravely up, and tell me of it; and your confession will merit love instead of punishment."
As we proceed with this narrative, after having enjoyed this glimpse of George's earliest years, the charming lines of Burleigh will find a fitting application.
"By honest work and inward truth
The victories of our life are won,
And what is wisely done in youth
For all the years is wisely done;
The little deeds of every day
Shape that within which lives for aye.
"No thought so buried in the dark
It shall not bear its bloom in light;
No act too small to leave its mark
Upon the young hearts tablet white;
Our grand achievements, secret springs,
Are tempered among trivial things.
"No soul at last is truly great
That was not greatly true at first;
In childhood's play are seeds of fate
Whose flower in manhood's work shall burst.
In the clinched fist of baby Thor
Might seem his hammer clutched for war.
* * * * * * * *
"The firmest tower to heaven up-piled
Hides deepest its foundation-stone;
Do well the duty of the child,
And manhood's task is well begun;
In thunders of the forum yet
Resounds the mastered alphabet."
George was about eight years old when a great excitement arose among the colonists in Virginia, and the fife and drum were heard, to announce that England, the mother country, needed soldiers.
"A regiment of four battalions is called for, by the king, for a campaign in the West Indies," announced Mr. Washington to his son Lawrence, a young man twenty-two years of age.
"A good opportunity for me," answered Lawrence, who possessed much of the military spirit of his ancestors. "Perhaps I can get a commission."
"Perhaps so," responded his father; "your education ought to place you above the common soldier."
Lawrence had just returned from England, where he had spent seven years in study, enjoying the best literary advantages the country could afford.
"Well, I can enlist and then see what can be done," continued Lawrence. "The regiment will be raised at once, and I can soon find out whether there is an appointment for me."
Soon recruiting parties were parading at the sound of fife and drum, and the military spirit was aroused in the hearts of both young and old. The enthusiasm spread and grew like a fire in the wilderness. The colonists were truly loyal to the king, and their patriotism led them, heartily and promptly, into the defence of the English cause in the West Indies against the Spaniards.
Recruiting advanced rapidly, and the regiment was soon raised. Lawrence obtained a captain's commission, and appeared wearing the insignia of his office. Music, drilling, parading, now became the order of the day, and it was a new and exciting scene to George. Soldiers in uniform, armed and equipped for war, marching at the sound of music, captivated his soul. It awakened all the ancestral spirit of chivalry that was in his heart. The sight of his big brother at the head of his company, drilling his men in military tactics, filled him with wonder. Gladly would he have donned a soldier's suit and sailed with the regiment to the West Indies, so wrought upon was his young heart.
In due time the regiment embarked for the West Indies, and George was obliged to part with his noble brother, to whom he had become strongly attached since his return from England. The departure of so many colonists, and the cessation of military display, left George in a serious frame of mind. For the first time in his life he experienced the sensation of loneliness.
However, he had caught the military spirit, and he found relief in playing soldier with his companions. There is no doubt that George inherited somewhat the love and tact for military life for which his English ancestors were renowned; and now that born element of his character was called into active exercise. The recruiting campaign converted him into an amateur soldier.
From that time George found more real pleasure in mimic parades and battles than he found in any other sport. A stick, corn-stalk or broom-handle, answered for gun or sword, and the meadow in front of his father's house became his muster-field. Here Lewis Willis, John Fitzhugh, William Bustle, Langhorn Dade, and other companions, marched and counter-marched, under the generalship of their young commander, George. Soldiering became the popular pastime of the region, in which the boys played the part of the Englishmen and Spaniards better than boys can do it now.
Lawrence served two years under Admiral Vernon in the West Indies campaign, and returned to Virginia in the autumn of 1742. He proved himself a hero in war. Irving says: "He was present at the siege of Carthagena, when it was bombarded by the fleet, and when the troops attempted to escalade the citadel. It was an ineffectual attack; the ships could not get near enough to throw their shells into the town, and the scaling ladders proved too short. That part of the attack, however, with which Lawrence was concerned, distinguished itself by its bravery. The troops sustained, unflinching, a destructive fire for several hours, and at length retired with honor, their small force having sustained a loss of about six hundred in killed and wounded."
Lawrence intended to return to England after a brief stay at home.
"My record will insure me a promotion in the army," he said to his father, who was averse at first to his return.
"Very true; but army life is objectionable in many ways," his father replied. "The honors hardly pay."
"But my experience for two years has fitted me for that service more than for any other, and that is to be thought of," suggested Lawrence.
"Yes; but other avenues to business are always open to young men of spirit," remarked his father. "Nor is it necessary for them to leave the country in order to accomplish a noble purpose."
However, Mr. Washington withdrew his objections to his son's return to the army; though, subsequently, he was pleased that he abandoned the project under the following circumstances.
There lived an educated English gentleman in Fairfax County by the name of William Fairfax. He had charge of a very large estate belonging to his cousin, Lord Fairfax, of England. This William Fairfax had a daughter, Anne, as well educated and accomplished as Lawrence. Mutual respect between Lawrence and Anne ripened into mutual love, and they became engaged. This unexpected episode in the lives of the promising couple changed the plans of Lawrence; and he voluntarily abandoned the idea of returning to the army.
The martial spirit of George did not abate when Lawrence came home from the war; it rather increased than otherwise. For his ears were regaled with many stories of army life, in which bravery, peril, bloodshed, and hairbreadth escapes were strangely mixed. There was a singular fascination in these tales of war to George; and he never tired of listening to them. The more he heard, the more he enjoyed playing soldier. He was constantly learning military tactics, too, from the lips of his brother. Being a bright, intelligent boy, he readily comprehended and appropriated information upon a subject that was so congenial to his heart. Lawrence was impressed by the precocity of his little brother, as well as his tact at soldiering, so that he was all the more gratified to nurture his martial spirit by rehearsing his experience in war. Lawrence was twenty-four years of age, and George but ten, so that the latter looked up to the former somewhat as a son looks up to a father, drinking in his words as words of wisdom, and accepting his experience as that of an officer of rank. Lawrence became his military teacher, really; and the opportunity to George proved a sort of West Point.
Lawrence, and others, too, were very much charmed by George's manly bearing, even before he was ten years old. John Fitzhugh said of him, "He was born a man."
He was very handsome, large of his age, tall and straight, graceful and dignified in his movements. These qualities were so conspicuous as to attract the attention of strangers.
He was very athletic, too, and loved more active sports than playing marbles. He excelled in running, wrestling, leaping, and throwing the bar, sports that were popular at that time. In these things he took the lead.
John Fitzhugh said of him, as a runner: "He ran wonderfully. We had nobody hereabouts that could come near him. There was a young Langhorn Dade, of Westmoreland, a clean-made, light young fellow, a mighty swift runner, too—but then he was no match for George: Langy, indeed, did not like to give it up, and would brag that he had sometimes brought George to a tie. But I believe he was mistaken; for I have seen them run together many a time, and George always beat him easy enough."
He would throw a stone further then any other boy. Col. Lewis Willis, who was one of his boon companions, said that he "had often seen George throw a stone across the Rappahannock, at the lower ferry of Fredericksburg." No other boy could do it.
His great physical strength was early displayed in lifting and carrying burdens.
The sequel will show how well his marked physical development served him in public life. A boy of less muscular power could not have made a general of such endurance under privations and hardships.
Much more relating to the boyhood of George Washington will appear in subsequent chapters. Enough has been said in this chapter to accomplish our purpose.
III.
SCHOOL-DAYS.
"We must come to some conclusion before long about Lawrence's education," remarked Mr. Washington to his wife. "It is certain that not much more can be done for him here."
"He deserves and must have something better than the schools of this colony can give him," answered Mrs. Washington. "Besides, it will do the boy good to go from home, and mix in such cultivated society as he will have in England."
They had often discussed the matter of sending Lawrence to England to be educated. The wealthier classes of Virginia were accustomed to send their sons to the mother country for a higher education than was possible at home. Indeed, it was sending them "home" in one sense, for England was their "home." They were only colonists here, where the schools were poor indeed. Neither their good-will nor their money alone could make good schools. They lacked suitable teachers and other facilities, which neither money nor good intentions could furnish.
"He should go, if he goes at all, as soon as possible," continued Mr. Washington. "There is no time to lose when a boy gets to be fifteen years old. Eight years at school there will make him twenty-three when he gets through; and by that time he should be prepared to enter upon some pursuit for life."
"Eight years is a longer time than it is absolutely necessary for him to spend," suggested Mrs. Washington. "Five or six years may be sufficient unless he decides to enter one of the learned professions."
"He can't be too well educated, whether he enters a learned profession or not," responded Mr. Washington. "Too much education is quite as impossible as too much honesty; and I do not expect he will ever have too much of the latter."
"I shall not deny that," replied Mrs. Washington. "I shall rejoice as much as you in the best opportunities he can have. I was only suggesting what might be if absolutely necessary to save time or expense."
Their conclusion was (as stated in the second chapter), to send Lawrence to England as soon as his wardrobe could be made ready, in which determination the lad rejoiced more than his parents ever knew. His ambition for an English education was strong; and, boy-like, he coveted a residence in England for a while.
Within a few weeks he sailed for the mother country, leaving a sensible void in the family. George did not interest himself particularly in the affair, although he might have added an occasional "coo"; for he was only one year old when his big brother left for England. His inexperience was sufficient excuse for his indifference to so important an affair.
George went to school when he was five years of age. A man by the name of Hobby lived in one of his father's tenements, and he served the public in the double capacity of parish sexton and school-master. It is claimed that he was a wounded soldier with a wooden leg, a kind, Christian gentleman, whose very limited education may have qualified him to dig graves and open the house of worship, but not to teach the young. However, he did teach school quite a number of years, and some of his pupils called him "Old Wooden Leg"—a fact that confirms the story of his having but one leg. He could "read, write and cipher" possibly, for that day, but beyond that he made no pretensions. Yet, that was the best school George could have at that time.
"We hope he will have a better one sometime," his father remarked. "I may not be able to send him to England, but I hope we shall see better schools here before many years have passed."
"Mr. Hobby can teach him A, B, C, as well as any body, I suppose," answered Mrs. Washington; and he can make a beginning in reading and writing with him, perhaps.
"Yes, and he may give him a start in arithmetic," added Mr. Washington. "Hobby knows something of addition, subtraction, multiplication and division. But a bright boy will run him dry in two or three years."
"Mr. Hobby will do the best he knows how for George or any other boy," continued Mrs. Washington. "He is a good man, and looks after the morals of his scholars; and that is a good deal in educating children."
"Of course it is; it is everything," replied Mr. Washington. "In that respect, Hobby has the confidence of all who know him. He does the very best he can, and the most cultivated people can do no better than that."
George was soon on the very best terms with his teacher. The attraction was mutual. Hobby saw a bright, studious, obedient boy in George, and George saw a kind, loving and faithful teacher in Hobby. In these circumstances commendable progress was immediate in George's career.
One of his biographers says of him in Hobby's school:
"The rapid progress George made in his studies was owing, not so much to his uncommon aptitude at learning, as to the diligence and industry with which he applied himself to them. When other boys were staring out of the window, watching the birds and squirrels sporting among the tree-tops; or sitting idly with their hands in their pockets, opening and shutting their jack-knives, or counting their marbles, or munching apples or corn-dodgers behind their books, or, naughtier still, shooting paper bullets at Hobby's wooden leg; our George was studying with all his might, closing his ears to the buzz of the school-room; nor would he once raise his eyes from his book till every word of his lesson was ready to drop from his tongue's end of its own accord. So well did he apply himself, and so attentive was he to everything taught him, that, by the time he was ten years old, he had learned all that the good old grave-digger knew himself; and it was this worthy man's boast, in after years, that he had laid the foundation of Washington's future greatness. But what Hobby could not teach him at school, George learned at home from his father and mother, who were well educated for those days; and many a long winter evening did these good parents spend in telling their children interesting and instructive stories of olden times, of far-off countries and strange people, which George would write down in his copy book in his neatest, roundest hand, and remember ever afterwards."
What this biographer claims was not all the instruction which George received at home. His instruction at Hobby's school was supplemented by lessons in reading, penmanship and arithmetic by his father, who was much better qualified than Hobby to teach the young. Mr. Washington was a wise man, and he saw that George's school would prove far more beneficial to him when enforced by such lessons as he himself could impart at home. Thus Hobby's school really became a force in the education of George, because it was ably supported by the home school. Otherwise that first school which George attended might have proved of little value to him.
George became Mr. Hobby's most important pupil, because he was an example of obedience, application, method and thoroughness.
"George always does his work well," Mr. Hobby would say, exhibiting his writing-book to the school. "Not one blot, no finger-marks, everything neat and clean."
In contrast with some of the dirty, blotted pages in other writing-books, that of George was a marvel of neatness and excellence.
"It is just as easy to do the best you can as it is to do poorly," Mr. Hobby continued, by way of rebuke and encouragement to dull and careless scholars. "George does not have to work any harder to be thorough than some of you do to be scarcely passible. He is a little more careful, that is all."
His writing-book, held up to the view of the school with the one most badly defaced, honored George's thoroughness, and sharply reproved the other boy's carelessness. Mr. Hobby sought to arouse dull scholars by encouragement full as much as he did by punishment. Hence, George's neat, attractive writing-book, contrasted with one of the opposite qualities, became a stimulus to endeavor. All could keep their fingers clean if they would, even if they had to go to the banks of the Rappahannock to wash them; and no pupil was fated to blot his book, as Mr. Hobby very plainly showed; so that George's example was a constant benediction to the school.
"The scholar who does as well as he can in one thing will do as well as he can in another," said Mr. Hobby. "George has the best writing-book in school, and he is the best reader and speller. It is because his rule is to do the best he can."
It was not expected that George would fail in spelling. He did fail occasionally on a word, it is true, but so seldom that his schoolmates anticipated no failure on his part. In spelling-matches, the side on which he was chosen was expected to win. If all others failed on a word, George was supposed to be equal to the occasion.
"Well, George, we shall be obliged to depend on you to help us out of this difficulty," Mr. Hobby had frequent occasion to say, when all eyes would turn to George for the solution.
"There is a thousand times more enjoyment in doing things well than there is in doing them poorly," Mr. Hobby said. "The happiest boy in this school is the boy who is thorough in his studies."
The pupils understood the remark perfectly. It was not necessary that their teacher should say whether he meant a particular boy or not. They made their own application. The boy who does his work well is not hid in a corner. It is impossible to hide him.
Yet, George was at home on the play-ground. He loved the games and sports of his school-days. No boy enjoyed a trial at wrestling, running or leaping, better than he did. He played just as he studied—with all his might. He aspired to be the best wrestler, runner and leaper in school. William Bustle was his principal competitor. Many and many a time they were pitted against each other in a race or wrestle.
"George is too much for him," was the verdict of Lewis Willis and Langhorn Dade and others.
"In a race George will always win," remarked John Fitzhugh. "He runs like a deer."
"And he wrestles like a man," said Lewis Willis. "No boy is so strong in his arms as he is. I am nowhere when he once gets his long arms around me. It's like getting into a vice."
"William is about a match for him, though," suggested Lewis Willis, referring to William Bustle. "George has the advantage of him in being taller and heavier."
"And quicker," suggested Willis. "He is spry as a cat."
"Old Wooden Leg was about right when he said that the boy who would write and spell well would do everything else well," remarked Langhorn Dade. "It is true of George, sure."
So George was master of the situation on the play-ground. By common consent the supremacy was conceded to him. He was first in frolic, as, years thereafter, he was "first in war."
When the excitement of recruiting for the campaign against the Spaniards in the West Indies prevailed, and George's military ardor was aroused, he proposed to convert the play-ground into a muster-field, and make soldiers of his schoolmates.
"Let us have two armies, English and Spanish," he said. "I will command the English and William (William Bustle) the Spanish." And so they recruited for both armies. Drilling, parading, and fighting, imparted a warlike appearance to the school-grounds. All other sports were abandoned for this more exciting one, and Mr. Hobby's pupils suddenly became warriors.
"The Spaniards must be conquered and driven out of English territory," shouted George to his men.
"The Spaniards can't be expelled from their stronghold," shouted back their defiant commander, William Bustle. "You advance at your peril."
"You resist at your peril," replied George. "The only terms of peace are surrender, SURRENDER!"
"Spaniards never surrender!" shouted General Bustle; and his men supplemented his defiant attitude with a yell. "We are here to fight, not to surrender!"
"Forward! march," cried the English general in response to the challenge: and the hostile forces, with sticks and corn-stalks, waged mimic warfare with the tact and resolution of veterans. Charges, sieges and battles followed in quick succession, affording great sport for the boys, who were, unconsciously, training for real warfare in the future.
William Bustle was the equal of George in ability and skill to handle his youthful army, but the latter possessed a magnetic power that really made him commander-in-chief of Hobby's school. He was regarded as the military organizer of these juvenile forces, and hence the meritorious author of their greatest fun.
One of the stories that has come down to us from George's school-days is honorable to him as a truth-telling boy. A difficulty arose among several boys in school, and it grew into a quarrel. Three or four of George's companions were engaged in the melee, and some hard blows were given back and forth. Other boys were much wrought upon by the trouble, and allowed their sympathies to draw them to the side of one party or the other. Thus the school was divided in opinion upon the question, each party blaming the other with more or less demonstration.
"What is this that I hear about a quarrel among you, boys?" inquired Master Hobby, on learning of the trouble. "Dogs delight to bark and bite."
The boys made no answer, but looked at each other significantly, some of them smiling, others frowning. Mr. Hobby continued:
"Is it true that some of my boys have been fighting?"
No one answered. Evidently Mr. Hobby knew more about the affair than any of them supposed.
"Well, I am not surprised that you have nothing to say about it," added Mr. Hobby. "There is not much to be said in favor of fighting. But I must know the truth about it. How is it, William (addressing William Bustle), what do you know about it?"
William glanced his eye over the school-room and hesitated, as if the question put him into a tight place. He had no desire to volunteer information.
"Speak out," urged his teacher; "we must know the truth about it. I fear that this was not a sham fight from all I can learn. Did you fight?"
"Yes, sir, I did my part," William finally answered with considerable self-possession.
"Your part?" repeated Mr. Hobby, inquiringly. "Who assigned such a part to you?"
"Nobody but myself. I don't like to stand and look on when boys are abused."
"Don't? eh! I wish you would act on that principle when you see some lessons in your class abused, and come to the rescue by learning them. That would be acting to some purpose." This was a sharp rejoinder by the teacher; and William, as well as the other boys, understood its application.
"But that talk is neither one thing nor another, William," continued Mr. Hobby. "Waste no more time in this way, but let us have the truth at once. Be a man now, though you were not when engaged in a quarrel with your companions."
William was now reassured by his master's tone, and he proceeded to give his version of the affair. His statement was simply a vindication of his side of the trouble, and Mr. Hobby so regarded it.
"Now, Lewis (addressing Lewis Willis), we will hear what you have to say," continued Mr. Hobby. "You were engaged in this disgraceful affair, I believe."
Lewis admitted that he was, but he hesitated about replying.
"Well, let us have it, if you have anything to say for yourself. There is not much to be said for boys who fight."
Lewis mustered courage enough to tell his story, which was as one-sided as that of William. He presented his side of the difficulty as well as he could, whereupon Mr. Hobby remarked:
"Both of you cannot be right. Now, I would like to know how many of you think that William is right. As many scholars as think that William's statement is correct may raise their hands."
Several hands went up.
"Those who think that Lewis is right may raise their hands."
Several hands were raised. George did not vote.
"Did no one attempt to prevent or reconcile this trouble?" inquired Mr. Hobby—a question that was suggested by the facts he had learned.
"George did," answered one of the smaller boys.
"Ah! George tried to keep the peace, did he? That was noble! But he did not succeed?" Mr. Hobby added, by way of inquiry.
"No, sir," replied the lad. "They did not mind him."
"Well, I think we will mind him now, and hear what he says," responded the teacher. "A boy who will plead for peace when others fight deserves to be heard; and I think we can depend upon his version of the affair. Now, George (turning to George Washington), shall we hear what you have to say about this unfortunate trouble?"
George hesitated for a moment, as if he would gladly be excused from expressing his opinion, when Mr. Hobby encouraged him by the remark:
"I think we all shall be glad to learn how the quarrel is regarded by a peace-maker."
George hesitated no longer, but hastened to give an account of the affair. He did not agree with either of the boys who had spoken, but discovered blame upon both sides, which was a correct view of the case.
"And you interposed and tried to reconcile the angry parties?" inquired Mr. Hobby.
"I tried to," modestly answered George, as if conscious that his efforts were of little avail with the belligerents.
"Your effort is just as commendable as it would have been if it had proved successful," responded Mr. Hobby in a complimentary manner. "And now, I want to know how many of my scholars, girls and boys, agree with George. You have heard his story. As many of you as agree with George may signify it by raising your hands."
There was a prompt and large array of hands.
"Those who do not agree with George may raise their hands." Only three or four hands went up.
"I agree with George," added Mr. Hobby. "I think he has given us a reliable account of the trouble; and you all ought to be ashamed of yourselves that you did not heed his advice, and refuse to quarrel. I shall take time to consider my duty in the circumstances; meanwhile the fighting boys may reflect upon their disgrace."
This incident presents two qualities of George's character, always prominent from his earliest school-days. He was known as a truth-teller. His word could be depended upon. He would not tell a falsehood to shield his most intimate companion. His word was so reliable that when he gave an account of the quarrel, not a few of the scholars accepted it simply because it was the statement of truth-telling George. Even several whose sympathies were strongly with William or Lewis finally voted for George's version. It was their confidence in his adherence to truth that settled their opinion.
George was often called a "peace-maker." Mr. Hobby called him so. His associates and their parents called him so. There could be no hard words or quarrels among his schoolmates with his consent. Sometimes an angry boy would charge him with being a "coward" because he always pleaded for peace; but his accuser knew full well that George was no "coward." There was not a braver boy in that "field-school" than he. He proved his bravery by rebuking falsehood and fighting among his class-mates. A cowardly boy yields to the ruling spirit around him; but George never did, except when that spirit was in the interest of peace.
Soon after the death of George's father, of which we shall speak particularly in another place, his connection with Mr. Hobby's school was severed.
"How would you like to go to Mr. Williams' school at Bridge's Creek, George?" his mother inquired. "Mr. Williams is an excellent teacher, I suppose, the very best there is in Virginia."
"I should like it," George answered. "Can I go?"
"I have been thinking of it," his mother responded. "You can live with your brother Augustine; the school is not far from his house."
"Shall I go soon?" asked George.
"Yes, as soon as you can get ready. You are at an age now when you must attend to the higher branches of knowledge, if ever."
"What shall I study?" inquired George.
"Arithmetic, of course, and I have been thinking of book-keeping and surveying, very important studies for planters and everybody else in these parts."
"Then you mean I shall be a planter?" George inquired.
"Yes, there is not much but a planter that you can be in this State; and a good planter may be as useful and honored as a good merchant or lawyer."
"I would as soon be a planter as anything else," continued George "and I will try to make a good one."
"That is the main thing," responded his mother. "Planter, merchant or lawyer, become the best there is, and you will be both prospered and honored. You have learned about all you can at Mr. Hobby's school; it is time to go up higher."
"That will suit me as well as it will you," replied George. "I do not object to going up higher."
"Some boys act as if they do," rejoined Mrs. Washington; "but I hope you will never belong to that class. Do the best you can in every place, and you will never be ashamed of your conduct."
Within a few weeks George found himself a member of Mr. Williams' school, and a resident of his brother Augustine's family. Arithmetic and book-keeping engaged his attention at once, and, after a few months, surveying was added to his regular studies.
Mr. Williams was a thorough instructor, and believed that scholars should master one branch of study before they took up another. He paid much attention to reading, spelling and penmanship, encouraging his pupils to place a high value upon these common, but fundamental, studies.
"You are a good mathematician, George, and surveying will come easy to you," remarked Mr. Williams. "Surveyors will be in great demand in this country before it is many years older."
"I should like to understand it," replied George, "and I mean to understand it before I have done going to school."
"And the sooner you commence the study of it the better it will be for you," added Mr. Williams. "You are old enough, and sufficiently advanced to pursue it successfully. By and by you can survey the fields about here, by way of practising the art; and you will enjoy it hugely. It will be better than play."
"Better than playing soldier?" said George inquiringly, and in a tone of pleasantry. He had already organized the boys in Mr. William's school into two armies, and more than one mimic battle had been fought.
"Yes, better than any sham thing," answered Mr. Williams. "It will be study and diversion together—work and play—improving mind and body at the same time."
"I see, I see," responded George. "I can abandon soldiering for that." But he never did. There was too great fascination about military tactics to allow of that. He devoted himself to surveying with commendable application and rapid progress; but he continued, to some extent, the chief sport of his school-days—mimic war.
George was not more than thirteen or fourteen years of age when he surveyed the land about the school-house. He was the first pupil in Mr. Williams' school who had performed such a practical piece of work, and his school-mates were deeply interested in his exploit. He ranked high as a scholar, and his manly bearing made him appear several years older than he was. He led Mr. Williams' school, as he did that of Mr. Hobby, in scholarship, behavior and physical prowess. He seemed born to lead, and his associates were content to have it so.
One of his biographers speaks as follows of his first efforts at surveying:
"When he had advanced so far in his study as to give him some idea of the proper use and handling of the chain and compass, the two principal instruments employed in this art, he began to put his knowledge into practice by taking surveys of the farms lying in the immediate neighborhood of his school-house.
"Assisted by his school-mates, he would follow up and measure off, with the help of his long steel chain, the boundary lines between the farms, such as fences, roads, and water-courses; then those dividing the different parts of the same farm; determining at the same time, with the help of his compass, their various courses, their crooks and windings, and the angles formed at their points of meeting or intersection. This would enable him to get at the shape and size not only of each farm, but of every meadow, field and wood composing it. This done, he would make a map or drawing on paper of the land surveyed, whereon would be clearly traced the lines dividing the different parts with the name and number of acres of each attached, while on the opposite page he would write down the long and difficult tables of figures by which these results had been reached. All this he would execute with as much neatness and accuracy as if it had been left with him to decide thereby some gravely disputed land-claim."
Irving says of him as a surveyor: "In this he schooled himself thoroughly; making surveys about the neighborhood, and keeping regular field-books, in which the boundaries and measurements of the fields surveyed were carefully entered, and diagrams made with a neatness and exactness, as if the whole related to important land transactions instead of being mere school exercises. Thus, in his earliest days, there was perseverance and completeness in all his undertakings. Nothing was left half done, or done in a hurried and slovenly manner. The habit of mind thus cultivated continued through life; so that however complicated his tasks and overwhelming his cares, in the arduous and hazardous situations in which he was often placed, he found time to do everything, and to do it well. He had acquired the magic of method, which of itself works wonders."
One day a dispute arose between two pupils respecting a chapter of Virginia's early history—Captain Smith and Pocahontas.
"She saved his life," exclaimed one.
"Very true; but she was not the daughter of King Opechancanough, as you say," replied the other.
"Whose daughter was she, then?"
"She was Powhattan's daughter; and her father was going to kill Captain Smith."
"No, she was not Powhattan's daughter; I tell you that Opechancanough was her father," rejoined the other with some warmth.
"And I tell you that Powhattan was her father, and Opechancanough was her uncle. If you can't recite history more correctly than that you had better keep still. Anybody knows that Pocahontas was the daughter of Powhattan; and he was the greatest Indian chief in Virginia."
"And you are a conceited, ignorant fellow, to suppose that nobody knows anything but yourself."
And so the dispute became more heated, until both parties were greatly excited; whereupon a listening school-mate called out:
"Leave it to George; he will settle it."
"Agreed!" responded one.
"Agreed!" shouted the other.
And George was called in to settle the controversy, both parties acquiescing in his decision.
George often acted as umpire among the boys in Mr. Williams' school. Sometimes, as in the above instance, both parties chose him for umpire. Their confidence in his word and judgment led them to submit cases of trial or controversy to him, whether relating to studies or games. Many disputes were thus brought to a speedy termination by his discriminating and candid judgment.
Mr. Weems says of him at this time:
"He carried with him his virtues, his zeal for unblemished character, his love of truth and detestation of whatever was false and base. A gilt chariot with richest robes and liveried servants could not have befriended him so well; for, in a short time, so completely had his virtues secured the love and confidence of the boys, his word was just as current among them as a law. A very aged gentleman, formerly a school-mate of his, has often assured me that nothing was more common, when the boys were in high dispute about a question of fact, than for some little shaver among the mimic heroes, to call out:
"'Well, boys, George Washington was there; George Washington was there; he knows all about it; and if he don't say it was so, why, then we will give it up.'
"'Done,' exclaimed the adverse party.
"Then away they would run to hunt for George. Soon as his verdict was heard, the difficulty was settled, and all hands would return to play again."
Another biographer, Mrs. Kirkland, says, "It is recorded of his school days that he was always head boy; and whether this report be authentic or not, we can easily imagine the case to have been so, not exclusively by means of scholarship, perhaps, but by the aid of certain other qualities, very powerful in school as elsewhere, and which he so exhibited in after life. His probity, courage, ability and high sense of justice were probably evident, even then, for there is every reason to believe their foundations were laid very early. The boys would, therefore, respect him, and choose him for an umpire in their little troubles, as they are said to have done.... He was famous for hindering quarrels, and perhaps his early taste for military manoeuvers was only an accidental form of that love of mathematical combinations (the marked trait of Napoleon's earlier years) and the tendency to order, promptness and thoroughness, which characterized him so strikingly in after life. The good soldier is by no means a man with a special disposition to fight."
George was such an example of order, neatness, thorough scholarship and exact behavior in Mr. Williams' school that we shall devote the next chapter to these qualities.
IV.
METHOD AND THOROUGHNESS.
"These are finely done," remarked Lawrence Washington to George, after an examination of the maps, copy-books, and writing-books, which George brought with him from Mr. Williams' school. "It would be difficult for any one to excel them."
"It takes considerable time to do them," remarked George.
"It takes time to do anything well," responded Lawrence, "but the habit is worth everything to you."
"That is what Mr. Williams says," answered George. "He talks to the boys often about doing things well."
"And no matter what it is that a boy is doing, if it is nothing more than chopping wood, it pays to do it as well as he can," added Lawrence. "Mr. Williams is an excellent teacher."
"I think so," responded George. "He makes everything so plain that we can understand him; and he makes us feel that we shall need all we learn most when we become men."
"Well, if you learn that last lesson thoroughly it will be of great service to you every day," remarked Lawrence. "Many boys never stop to think that they will soon be men, and so they are not fitted for the duties of manhood when it comes."
"Mr. Williams talks much about method in study and work," continued George. "He says that many persons accomplish little or nothing in life because they are neither systematic nor thorough in what they do. 'A place for everything and everything in its place,' is one of his frequent remarks."
"And you must have produced these maps and copy-books under that rule," suggested Lawrence. "They are as excellent in orderly arrangement as they are in neatness."
George spent his vacation with Lawrence, who really had charge of his education after Mr. Washington died. Lawrence married the daughter of William Fairfax three months after the death of his father, and settled on the plantation which his father bequeathed to him, near Hunting Creek, and to which Lawrence gave the name of Mount Vernon, in honor of Admiral Vernon, under whom he did military service in the West Indies, and for whom he cherished profound respect.
Lawrence was strongly attached to his young brother in whom he discovered the elements of a future noble manhood. He delighted to have him at his Mount Vernon home, and insisted that he should spend all his time there when out of school. It was during a vacation that Lawrence examined his maps and copy-books, as narrated, George having brought them with him for his brother to inspect.
One of George's copy-books attracted much attention in school, because it was unlike that of any other scholar, and it was an original idea with him.
"What do you call it, George, and what do you ever expect to do with it?" inquired a school-mate.
"You can call it what you please," replied George. "I expect that it will be of great service to me when I become a man."
"That is looking a long way ahead, it seems to me," rejoined his companion. "I prefer to know what will be of service to me now. You can scarcely tell what will be best for you when you become a man."
"I know that what I am copying into that book will be of use to me in manhood, because men use these forms. I call it a 'Book of Forms' for the want of a better name." And George's words denoted entire confidence in his original idea of the use of forms.
"Well, the book looks well anyway," continued his school-mate holding the copy-book up to view. "As to that, I should like to see any work of yours that does not look well. But what are these forms, anyhow?"
"They are receipts, bills of exchange, notes of hand, deeds, wills, land-warrants, bonds and useful forms of that kind," answered George. "If I have them here in this book together, they will be convenient for use ten or twenty years hence."
"Yes, I see; you can run a lawyer's office on that book," suggested his friend.
"A farmer's office, you mean. A farmer may find use for every form there is in that book; and if he does not, it will be no disadvantage to him to understand them."
"You are right, George, as you are usually. I shall know where to go for a form when I want to make my will," remarked his companion in a complimentary way.
"And I shall be glad to serve you without charge provided you remember me," responded George. "I predict that many men will live who will be glad to consult this book to help them out of difficulties."
Perhaps the forethought and sagacity of George were foreshadowed more clearly by this copy-book than by any other. Its reference to the necessities of manhood was so plain and direct as to prove that he kept preparation for that period of life constantly in view. This book has been carefully preserved, and may be seen to-day at Mount Vernon.
Another manuscript volume of his which has been preserved is a book of arithmetical problems. It was customary, when George attended school, to write the solution of problems in arithmetic in a blank-book—not the result merely, but the whole process of solution. Sometimes the rules were copied, also, into the book. It was a very good practice for a studious, persevering, conscientious boy like George; but the method was a wretched one for certain indolent pupils to whom study was penance; for this class often relied upon these manuscript volumes to furnish problems solved, instead of resorting to hard study. They were passed around among the idle scholars clandestinely, to help them over hard places without study. Mr. Williams forbade the deceitful practice, and punished pupils who were discovered in the cheat; nevertheless, poor scholars continued to risk punishment rather than buckle down to persistent study. There is no doubt that George's book of problems, copied in his clear, round hand, did considerable secret service in this way. But the preparation of it was an excellent discipline for George. Neatness, application, perseverance, thoroughness, with several other qualities, were indispensable in the preparation of so fair a book.
In another copy-book George displayed a talent for sketching and drawing, which elicited Mr. Williams' commendation.
"That portrait is well executed," he said. "You have a talent in that direction, evidently; the likeness is good." It was the face of one of the scholars, drawn with his pen.
"Have you practised much in this art?" continued Mr. Williams.
"No, sir; only a little, for amusement."
"Just to see what you could do?" added Mr. Williams, inquiringly.
"Yes, that is all."
"Well, I advise you to cultivate your talent for drawing. These animals are well done, too. Practise will give you an ability in this line, which may prove of real service to you in future years."
George had drawn animals, also, in the book, and he had given wings to some birds with a flourish of his pen, showing both taste and tact in the use of the pen. George was not a boy who believed in flourishes, except those executed in ink. His interest in the art of penmanship drew his attention to these as ornamental and ingenious.
"A facile use of the pen will always be serviceable to you," he said to George. "No one can become too skilful in wielding it. But it requires much careful practise."
"I have discovered that," answered George. "I do not expect to excel in the art of penmanship."
"You may, with your application and perseverance," responded his teacher. "'Perseverance conquers all things,' it is said, and I believe it."
"But I have not time for everything," remarked George. "Odd moments are all the time I can devote to such things."
"And odd moments have done much for some boys," added his teacher. "Fragments of time well improved have made some men illustrious."
"It will take larger fragments of time than I have to make me illustrious," suggested George, dryly.
"Perhaps not; you are not authorized to come to such a conclusion. There are too many facts known to warrant it. Your industry and resolution are equal to it."
George accepted the compliment in silence with his usual modesty, considerably encouraged by his teacher's words to persevere in doing things well.
This copy-book, containing sketches of his companions and pen-pictures of birds and beasts, has been carefully preserved with others. It is a valuable relic, too, as showing that George was not always the sedate, serious boy he has generally been represented to be; for some of these sketches border upon the comical, and evidently were intended to bring a smile over the faces of his school-mates. Mixed with his usually grave and practical way of doing things, they show more of the cheerful, roguish boy than is accorded to George by writers in general.
Another copy-book contains many extracts, in prose and poetry, which particularly interested George at the time. He was in the habit of preserving in this way choice bits of prose and poetry for future use. They were copied in his clear, fair handwriting, with every i dotted and every t crossed, and every comma and period nicely made and placed.
All these copy books, with other proofs of George's thorough scholarship and progress, can now be seen at Mount Vernon, where he lived and died.
Irving says of these: "His manuscript school-books still exist, and are models of neatness and accuracy. One of them, it is true, a ciphering book, preserved in the library at Mount Vernon, has some school-boy attempts at calligraphy; nondescript birds, executed with the flourish of a pen, or profiles of faces, probably intended for those of his school-mates; the rest are all grave and business-like. Before he was thirteen years of age he had copied into a volume forms for all kinds of mercantile and legal papers, bills of exchange, notes of hand, deeds, bonds and the like. This early self-tuition gave him throughout life a lawyer's skill in drafting documents, and a merchant's exactness in keeping accounts; so that all the concerns of his various estates, his dealings with his domestic stewards and foreign agents, his accounts with governments, and all the financial transactions, are to this day to be seen posted up in books, in his own handwriting, monuments of his method and unvaried accuracy."
There was yet another manuscript more important, really, than those of which we have spoken. It contained one hundred and ten rules for regulating his conduct, to which he gave the title, "Rules of Behavior in Company and Conversation."
When Lawrence Washington examined this manuscript he remarked to his wife, "It is remarkable that a boy of his years should make such a collection of rules as this. They are creditable to a much older head than his."
"They are not original with him, are they?" responded his wife.
"I think not; they must be a collection which he has made from time to time. It would not be possible for a boy of his age to produce such a code of manners and morals out of his own brain. Hear this," and he proceeded to read some of the "Rules."
"Associate yourself with men of good quality if you esteem your reputation, for it is better to be alone than in bad company."
"Good counsel, surely, and well expressed," remarked Mrs. Washington.
"It shows a degree of thoughtfulness and desire to be correct, beyond his years," added Lawrence. "The other rules are no less practical and significant." He continued to read:
"Every action in company ought to be with some sign of respect to those present.
"Speak not when others speak; sit not when others stand. Speak not when you should hold your peace. Walk not when others stop."
"That is paying attention to little things with a will," remarked Mrs. Washington.
"And that is what impresses me," responded Lawrence. "Most boys think that such small matters are beneath their notice, when attention to these secures attention to more important things."
"Very true," replied his wife; "and it certainly shows a desire to be correct in behavior that is commendable."
"And as unusual as it is commendable," added Lawrence. "It is such a manly view of life as we seldom meet with, except in ripe manhood."
"Well, read more of his rules," suggested Mrs. Washington.
Lawrence continued to read, "In your apparel, be modest, and endeavor to accommodate yourself to nature rather than to procure admiration; keep to the fashion of your equals, such as are civil and orderly, with respect to times and places.
"Wherein you reprove another, be unblamable yourself, for example is better than precept.
"When a man does all he can, though it succeeds not well, blame not him that did it."
"Not many men reduce these rules to practise very thoroughly," remarked Lawrence. "To square one's life by these rules requires uncommon circumspection and decision. Few are equal to it."
"I think that George comes as near doing it as any one," suggested Mrs. Washington.
"I was just thinking of that," replied Lawrence. "I am not sure but his manly bearing is owing to these rules. No one can think enough of them to write them down carefully in a book without being more or less influenced by their lessons."
"It would seem so," remarked Mrs. Washington; "but are there no rules relating to our higher duties to God among the whole number?"
"Yes, several; but you should remember that these are rules of behavior in company and conversation alone, and not our religious duties. But here is one rule that lies in that direction":
"Labor to keep in your heart that little spark of celestial fire called conscience."
"And here is another":
"If you speak of God or His attributes, let it be seriously, in reverence; and honor and obey your parents."
"George has done that to perfection," remarked Lawrence. "Profanity and disobedience, even in their least offensive form, he was never guilty of. And here is still another rule having reference to our higher obligations, which he has observed with commendable carefulness":
"Let your recreations be manful, not sinful."
"I think it is remarkable, as you say, that one so young as George should make such a collection of rules," said Mrs. Washington. "May it not be that a remarkable future is before him?"
"It may be, and I am inclined to think it will be," answered Lawrence. "If a bright spring-time is the harbinger of an ample harvest, such a youth must foreshadow noble manhood."
Thus were George's "Rules of Behavior in Company and Conversation" discussed at Mount Vernon, and the young author of them was more admired in consequence.
We will furnish our readers with more of his "Rules," since all of them are important, and had much to do, doubtless, with the formation of George's character.
"Speak not of doleful things in time of mirth, nor at the table; speak not of melancholy things, as death and wounds; and if others mention them, change, if you can, the discourse. Tell not your dreams but to your intimate friend.
"Break not a jest when none take pleasure in mirth; laugh not loud, nor at all, without occasion; deride no man's misfortune, though there seem to be some cause.
"Speak not injurious words, neither in jest nor earnest; scoff at none, although they give occasion.
"Seek not to lessen the merits of others; neither give more than due praise.
"Go not thither where you know not whether you shall be welcome.
"Give not advice without being asked; and when desired, do it briefly.
"Reprove not the imperfections of others, for that belongs to parents, masters and superiors.
"Gaze not on the marks and blemishes of others, and ask not how they came. What you may speak in secret to your friend, deliver not before others.
"Think before you speak; pronounce not imperfectly, nor bring out your words too hastily, but orderly and distinctly.
"When another speaks, be attentive yourself, and disturb not the audience. If any hesitate in his words, help him not, nor prompt him, without being desired; interrupt him not, nor answer him, until his speech be ended.
"Treat with men at right times about business, and whisper not, in the company of others.
"Be not in haste to relate news if you know not the truth thereof.
"Be not curious to know the affairs of others, neither approach those that speak in private.
"Undertake not what you cannot perform, but be careful to keep your promise.
"Speak not evil of the absent, for it is unjust.
"Make no show of taking delight in your victuals. Feed not with greediness. Cut your food with a knife, and lean not on the table; neither find fault with what you eat.
"Be not a flatterer; neither play with any one that delights not to be played with.
"Show not yourself glad at the misfortune of another, though he were your enemy.
"It is good manners to prefer them to whom we speak before ourselves, especially if they are above us; with whom in no sort ought we to begin.
"Strive not with your superiors in an argument, but always submit your judgment to others with modesty.
"Undertake not to teach your equal in the art him self professes, for it is immodest and presumptuous.
"Before you advise or find fault with any one, consider whether it ought to be in public or in private; presently, or at some other time; in what terms to do it; and, in reproving, show no sign of anger, but do it with sweetness and mildness.
"Use no reproachful language against any one, neither curse nor revile.
"Be not hasty to believe flying reports to the injury of any.
"Play not the peacock, looking everywhere about you to see if you be well-decked; if your shoes fit well; if your pantaloons sit neatly, and clothes handsomely.
"Let your conversation be without malice or envy, for it is a sign of a kindly and commendable nature; and in all cases of passion, admit reason to govern.
"Utter not base and frivolous things amongst grave and learned men, nor very difficult questions or subjects among the ignorant, nor things hard to believe."
These are only a part of the Rules which George adopted for his instruction and guidance through life. In weighing them, the reader must feel the force of Everett's remarks, who said of them, "Among his manuscripts still in existence, there is one, written under thirteen years of age, which deserves to be mentioned as containing striking indications of early maturity. The piece referred to is entitled 'Rules of Behavior in Company and Conversation.' These rules are written out in the form of maxims, to the number of one hundred and ten." "They form," says Mr. Sparks, "a minute code of regulations for building up the habits of morals and manners and good conduct in very young persons." Whether they were taken in a body from some manual of education, or compiled by Washington himself from various books, or framed from his own youthful observation and reflection, is unknown. The first is, perhaps, the more probable supposition. If compiled by a lad under thirteen, and still more, if the fruit of his own meditations, they would constitute a most extraordinary example of early prudence and thoughtfulness. Some of the rules which form a part of this youthful code of manners and morals had their influence over Washington, and gave a complexion to his habits through life.
That a boy of twelve or thirteen years should compile such a code of manners and morals, shows, unmistakably, the bent of his mind. We discover valuable elements of character in the formation and execution of such a purpose. It is equally true, also, that his book of prose and poetical extracts reveals his taste and aims no less surely than his "Rules." The following extract, taken from that manuscript volume, tells about the same story of the boy as his "Rules of Behavior" tell:—
"These are the things, which, once possessed,
Will make a life that's truly blest;
A good estate on healthy soil,
Not got by vice, nor yet by toil;
Round a warm fire a pleasant joke,
With chimney ever free from smoke;
A strength entire, a sparkling bowl,
A quiet wife, a quiet soul;
A mind, as well as body, whole;
Prudent simplicity, constant friends,
A diet which no art commends,
A merry night without much drinking,
A happy thought without much thinking.
Each night by quiet sleep made short,
A will to be but what thou art:
Possessed of these, all else defy,
And neither wish nor fear to die;
These are the things, which, once possessed,
Will make a life that's truly blest."
His strong love for simple, pure, domestic life appears in this selection—a love for which he was distinguished to the day of his death.
The school-days of George ended one month before he was sixteen years of age. Mr. Hobby and Mr. Williams were his only teachers, except his parents. "Not very rare opportunities," the reader will say. No larger opportunities for mental culture now would be considered meagre indeed. But he made the most of what he had, so that his small advantages did more for him than the best opportunities do for less industrious and noble boys.
A strong bond united him to his teacher and schoolmates. It was not so much his scholarship as his character that endeared him to both teacher and pupils. The secret of it was found in his heart rather than his head. His school-mates were moved to tears on parting with him, and so was his teacher. And those tears were a sincere tribute to the unsullied character of the boy.
V.
FOUR INCIDENTS AND THEIR LESSONS.
Certain incidents occurred in the young life of our hero, which so forcibly illustrate leading elements of his character that we stop here to record them.
His father came home one day so sick that he took to his bed at once. It was a severe attack of an old complaint, which he had vainly tried to remove.
"You must have the doctor," said Mrs. Washington, somewhat alarmed by the severity of the attack.
"Wait a little, and see," replied her husband; "perhaps the usual remedies will relieve me." He kept remedies in the house for such attacks, and Mrs. Washington soon administered them. But the relief was only partial, and a servant was sent for the doctor.
"Go in haste," said Mrs. Washington, as Jake mounted the horse and galloped away. "Tell the doctor to come as soon as possible," were the last words that Jake heard as he dashed forward. Mrs. Washington was thoroughly alarmed. Returning to her husband's bedside, she said:
"I want to send for George."
"Not now," her husband answered. "I think the doctor will relieve me. Besides, George has only just got there, and it is not well to disturb him unnecessarily."
George had gone to visit friends at Chotana, about twenty miles distant, where he proposed to spend his vacation.
Mrs. Washington yielded to her husband's desire, although intense anxiety filled her heart. She seemed to have a presentiment that it was her husband's last sickness. Back and forth she went from door to bedroom, and from bedroom to door, awaiting with tremulous emotion the coming of the physician, at the same time employing such remedies as she thought might afford relief.
"A very sick man," was the doctor's verdict, "but I think we can relieve him soon." His encouraging words lifted a burden from Mrs. Washington's heart, although she still apprehended the worst, and yet she could scarcely tell why.
"You think that he will recover?" she said to the doctor, as he was leaving the house.
"I think so; he is relieved for the present, and I hope that he will continue to improve," the doctor answered; and he answered just as he felt.
Still Mrs. Washington could not disguise her fears. She was a devout Christian woman, and she carried her burden to the Lord. She found some relief in laying her anxieties upon the great Burden-bearer. She came forth from communion with the Father of mercies more composed if not more hopeful. She possessed a degree of willingness to leave her companion in God's hand.
Mr. Washington was relieved of acute pain, but further than that he did not improve. After continuing several days in this condition, he said to his wife one morning:
"You may send for George to-day."
"I will," Mrs. Washington replied, bursting into tears. "I wish I had sent before."
"It might have been as well had we known," Mr. Washington responded, in a suggestive way.
"Do you think that your sickness will prove fatal?"
"I fear so. I think I am losing ground fast. I have failed very much in strength the last twenty-four hours. God's will be done."
"I hope I shall have grace to say so honestly."
"And I trust that God will give me grace to say so with true submission," continued Mr. Washington. "I should like to live if it is God's will; but if He orders otherwise, we must accept His ordering as best."
Mrs. Washington could say no more. Her cup of sorrow was full and running over. But she sorrowed not as one without hope. Both she and her husband had been active Christians. They were prominent working members of the Episcopal Church. They knew, from happy experience, that solace and support were found in divine grace, so that this sudden and terrible affliction did not overtake them unawares, really. They were prepared for it in an important sense.
The doctor called just as this interview closed, and he seconded Mr. Washington's request to send for George.
"A great change has come over him since yesterday," he said to Mrs. Washington.
"He just told me that he was sinking," replied Mrs. Washington.
"I fear it is so; and George better be sent for at soon as possible. A few hours may bring the end." The physician spoke as if there were no more ground for hope.
"May God have mercy on us," responded Mrs. Washington, as she hastened from the room, with deep emotion, to despatch a servant for George.
Mr. Washington continued to sink rapidly during the day, his reason at times wavering, though his distress was not acute. Conscious that he could not survive many hours, he expressed an anxiety to see George once more, and seemed impatient for his arrival.
It was almost night when George arrived, and his father was dying. His mother met him at the door, with emotion too deep for utterance. Her tears and despairing look told the story more plainly than words to George. He knew that there was no hope.
Hastening into his father's presence he was appalled by the change. That cheerful, loving face was struck with death. Fastening his eyes upon his son, as if he recognized him, the dying man looked his last farewell. He could not speak nor lift a finger. He was almost "beyond the river."
George was completely overcome. Throwing himself upon his father's neck, he broke into convulsive sobs, kissing him again and again, and giving way to the most passionate grief. The scene was affecting beyond description. All hearts were melted by the child's artless exhibition of filial love and sorrow. He loved his father with a devotion that knew no bounds, as he had reason to love him. Without this paternal friend, life would lose its charm to him, and he "would never be glad any more." So it seemed to him when he first was made conscious that his father was dying. The great sorrow seemed too great for him to bear. His young heart well nigh burst.
Here we have evidence of what George was as a son. He had not only loved and reverenced his father, but he had obeyed him with true filial respect. Obedience was one of his leading virtues. This endeared him to his father. Their tender love was mutual. "George thought the world of his father and his father thought the world of him." That dying scene in the family was proof of it.
In a few days all that was mortal of Augustine Washington was committed to the dust, and George was a fatherless boy. As we have already intimated, this sudden affliction changed the current of George's life. Different plans and different experiences followed.
Mr. Washington, with characteristic foresight, had made his will. Irving says of it, "To Lawrence he gave the estate on the banks of the Potomac, with other real property, and several shares in iron-works. To Augustine, the second son by the first marriage, the old homestead and estate in Westmoreland. The children by the second marriage were severally well provided for; and George, when he became of age, was to have the house and lands on the Rappahannock."
Mrs. Washington assumed the care of the estate after the death of her husband, and continued her love of fine horses. She possessed several of rare beauty and fleetness. Among them was an Arabian colt, full grown, broken to the harness, but not to the saddle. He would not allow a man to ride him. He was so high strung, and so fractiously opposed to any one getting upon his back, that Mrs. Washington had forbidden any one on the farm attempting the feat.
George had two or three young friends visiting him, and they were admiring the antics of the colt in the meadow in front of the house.
"I should like to ride him," remarked George.
"Ride him!" exclaimed one of the number. "I thought nobody could ride him. That is what I have heard."
"Well, I should like to try," continued George. "If I could once get upon his back, I would run the risk anyway. He would prance some, I guess."
"I should like to see you try, George," remarked another of his friends present. "You can ride him if any one can. But how do you know that you can't ride him? Have you ever tried?"
"No."
"Did any one ever try?"
"I believe Jake has; or, at least, he has tried to get on his back."
"If I were in your place I would see whether I could ride him or not," suggested his friend. "What's the harm?"
"Mother would not allow it," answered George; "She would expect to see my brains beat out if I should attempt it."
"But your mother would like it if you succeeded in riding him," rejoined his friend, by way of inducing him to make the attempt.
"I have no doubt she would; but if I should break my neck, instead of the colt, she would not be glad at all."
"Of course not; but I don't see any particular need of breaking your neck or limbs by making the attempt; and it would be a feather in your cap to manage the colt. Suppose we try;" and this proposition was made by George's companion in good faith.
"I have no fears for myself," answered George; "there is no danger in trying to get upon his back that I see, and once there, I will risk being thrown."
"That is so," continued his friend, "and suppose we try it some day."
After some more discussion upon the subject, George agreed to make the attempt to mount the colt early the following morning, and his young friend seconded his decision heartily.
The next morning, a full hour before breakfast-time, the boys were out, eager to participate in the sport of conquering a wild colt. The colt appeared to snuff trouble, for he was unusually gay and crank that morning. His head and tail were up, as he went prancing around the field, when the boys put in their appearance.
"Drive him into a corner!" exclaimed George.
"Drive the wind into a corner as easily," replied one of the boys, just beginning to appreciate the difficulties of the situation.
"Well, he must be caught before he can be mounted," said George, philosophically. "I did not promise to mount him until he was bridled."
"That is so," responded another boy, more hopeful of results. "That corner yonder is a good place for the business," pointing to the eastward.
So they all rallied to drive the colt into the proposed corner; and, in the language of another who has described the scene, "after a deal of chasing and racing, heading and doubling, falling down and picking themselves up again, and more shouting and laughing than they had breath to spare for, they at last succeeded in driving the panting and affrighted young animal into the corner. Here, by some means or other (it was difficult to tell precisely how) they managed to bridle him, although at no small risk of a broken head or two from his heels, that he seemed to fling about him in a dozen different directions at once."
"Lead him away from this corner," said one of the boys.
"Yes," answered George, "we must go well toward the centre of the field; he will want room to throw me."
So, throwing the bridle-reins over the colt's neck, and taking hold of the bridle close by the bits, the animal was led toward the centre of the field.
Before the boys or the colt were aware of George's purpose, with one bound he leaped upon the colt's back, and, seizing the reins, was prepared for the worst. His playmates were as much astonished as the animal was at this unexpected feat, and they rushed away to escape disaster.
"Look out, George!" shouted one, as the colt reared and stood upon his hind legs.
"He'll throw you, George, if you don't look out!" screamed another, as the animal reversed his position and sent his hind legs high into the air.
"Stick, George, stick!" they cried, as the colt dashed forward like the wind a few rods, then stopped, reared, and kicked again, as if determined to throw the rider. All the while George's companions were alarmed at the fearful plunges of the animal, fearing that he would dash him to the ground.
At length the furious beast took the bits between his teeth and plunged forward upon the "dead run." George had no control over him as he dashed forward like mad. He hung to the reins like a veteran horseman as the wild creature leaped and plunged and kicked. His companions looked on in breathless interest, expecting every moment to see the young rider hurled to the ground. But, to their surprise, the colt stumbled, staggered a few steps, and fell, George still upon his back. They ran to the rescue, when George exclaimed, "The colt is dead!"
"Dead?" responded one of the boys in astonishment, "more likely his leg is broken."
"No, he is dead, sure. See the blood running from his mouth."
Sure enough, the animal was dying. In his fearful plunging he had ruptured a blood-vessel, and was bleeding to death. In a few moments the young Arabian colt was dead.
"Too bad!" mournfully spoke George, with big tears starting to his eyes. "I wish I had never made the attempt to ride him."
"I wish so now," answered one of his companions; "but who ever thought that the colt could kill himself?"
"Mother will feel bad enough now," continued George. "I am sorry that I have caused her so much trouble."
"What shall you tell her?" inquired a companion.
"I shall tell her the truth," manfully answered George; "that is all there is to tell about it."
The boys were soon at the breakfast-table, as cheerful as the circumstances would permit.
"Well, boys, have you seen the Arabian colt in your walks this morning?" Mrs. Washington inquired.
There was no reply for a moment. The boys looked at each other as if the crisis had come, and they were not quite prepared for it. At length George answered frankly:
"Mother, the colt is dead."
"Dead!" his mother exclaimed, "what can you mean, George?"
"He is certainly dead, mother."
"Have you seen him?"
"Yes; and I know that he is dead."
"How could such a thing happen?" said his mother, sadly and musingly.
"I will tell you all about it, mother," replied George, resolved upon making a clean breast of the affair. He went on to narrate how he arrived at the conclusion to ride the colt, not forgetting to say that he thought his mother would be pleased with the act if he succeeded in riding the fractious animal successfully. He described the manner of catching, bridling, and mounting the colt, as well as his furious plunging, rearing, and running; and he closed by the honest confession, "I did wrong, mother, and I am very sorry that I attempted to ride the colt. I hope that you will forgive me, and I will never be so disobedient again."
"Forgive you, my son," his mother answered, evidently too well satisfied with the truthfulness of her boy to think much of her loss, "your frankness in telling me the truth is worth a thousand colts to me. Most gladly do I forgive you, and trust that the lesson you are taught by this unfortunate affair will go with you through life."
In this incident we discover the daring, adventurous spirit of George. His courage was equal to his honesty. No act of his life approached so nearly to disobedience as this. Yet the spirit of disobedience was not in his heart. His mother had forbidden any one to ride the colt, but it was because she feared the colt would injure them. "If I can ride him successfully, and prove that he can be broken to the saddle, mother will be delighted," he reasoned. His thoughts were of pleasing instead of disobeying his mother. Were there any doubt on this point, his rehearsal of the whole story, with no attempt to shield himself from censure, together with his sincere desire to be forgiven, settles the question beyond controversy.
After George left Mr. Williams' school, and had gone to reside with his brother Lawrence at Mount Vernon, a companion discovered in his journal several verses that breathed love for an unknown "lowland beauty."
"What is this, George?" he asked. "Are you the poet who writes such lines as these?" And he read aloud the verses.
"To be honest I must acknowledge the authorship," George answered, with his usual frankness. "But there is more truth than poetry in the production, I imagine."
"I was suspicious of that," responded his friend. "That means that you fell in love with some bewitching girl, I conclude."
"All of that," answered George, with no disposition to conceal anything.
"That accounts for your poetical turn of mind," continued his friend. "I have heard it said that lovers take to poetry."
"I don't know about that; but I confess to being smitten by the 'lowland beauty,'" was George's honest answer.
"Who is she, and where does she live?"
"That is of no consequence now; she is nothing to me, although she is much in my thoughts."
"Did she respond to your professions of love?"
"I never made any profession of love to her."
"How is that?"
"I am too young and bashful to take such a step; it would be foolish indeed."
"Well, to love and keep it to one's self must be misery indeed," continued his companion.
"There is something in that," answered George, "and I shall not conceal that it has made me unhappy at times."
"And it was a kind of relief to let your tender regard express itself in poetry?" suggested his friend.
"Exactly so; and you are the only person in the world to whom I have spoken of the affair."
We have introduced this incident to show the tender side of George's heart. His gravity, decorum, and thoughtful habit were such as almost to preclude the possibility of his being captivated by a "lowland beauty." But this incident shows that he was much like the average boy of Christendom in this regard.
Irving says: "Whatever may have been the reason, this early attachment seems to have been a source of poignant discomfort to him. It clung to him after he look a final leave of school in the autumn of 1747, and went to reside with his brother Lawrence at Mount Vernon. Here he continued his mathematical studies and his practice in surveying, disturbed at times by recurrences of his unlucky passion. Though by no means of a poetical temperament, the waste pages of his journal betray several attempts to pour forth his amorous sorrows in verse. They are mere common-place rhymes, such as lovers at his age are apt to write, in which he bewails his
"'Poor, restless heart,
Wounded by Cupid's dart;'
and 'bleeding for one who remains pitiless of his griefs and woes.'
"The tenor of some of the verses induce us to believe that he never told his love; but, as we have already surmised, was prevented by his bashfulness.
"'Ah, woe is me, that I should love and conceal!
Long have I wished and never dare reveal.'
"It is difficult to reconcile one's self to the idea of the cool and sedate Washington, the great champion of American liberty, a woe-worn lover in his youthful days, 'sighing like a furnace,' and inditing plaintive verses about the groves of Mount Vernon. We are glad of an opportunity, however, of penetrating to his native feelings, and finding that under his studied decorum and reserve he had a heart of flesh throbbing with the warm impulses of human nature."
In another place, Irving refers to the affair again, and furnishes the following bit of information:
"The object of this early passion is not positively known. Tradition states that the 'lowland beauty' was a Miss Grimes of Westmoreland, afterwards Mrs. Lee, and mother of General Henry Lee, who figured in Revolutionary times as Light Horse Harry, and was always a favorite with Washington, probably from the recollections of his early tenderness for the mother."
George, as we have already intimated, spent his time out of school at Mount Vernon, with his brother Lawrence, who had become a man of considerable repute and influence for one of his years. Here he was brought into contact with military men, and occasionally naval officers were entertained by Lawrence. Often vessels anchored in the river, and the officers enjoyed the abundant hospitality of the Mount Vernon mansion. George was a close observer of what passed in his new home, and a careful listener to the tales of war and a seafaring life frequently told in his hearing. The martial spirit within him was aroused by these tales of adventure and glory, and he was prepared for almost any hardship or peril in the way of the object of his ambition. Besides, his brother was disposed to encourage his aspirations in the direction of a military life. He discovered the elements of a good soldier in the boy, and really felt that distinction awaited him in a military career.
"How would you like a midshipman's berth on a British man-of-war?" inquired Lawrence.
"I should like nothing better," George answered.
"You would then be in the service of the king, and have a chance to prove your loyalty by your deeds," added Lawrence. "Your promotion would be certain."
"If I deserved it," added George, with thoughtful interest.
"Yes, if you deserved it," repeated Lawrence; "and I have no doubt that you would deserve it."
"But I fear that mother will not consent to such an arrangement," suggested George.
"I will confer with her upon the subject," replied Lawrence. "I think she will take the same view of it that I do."
Lawrence did confer with his mother concerning this venture, and found her wholly averse to the project.
"I can never consent that he should follow such a life," she said.
"But I am sure that he would distinguish himself there, and bring honor to the family," urged Lawrence.
"Character is worth more than distinction," responded Mrs. Washington. "I fear the effect of such a life upon his character."
"George can be trusted in any position, no matter what the temptations may be," Lawrence pleaded.
"That may be true, and it may not be true," remarked Mrs. Washington. "We ought not to incur the risk unless absolutely obliged to do it."
"If there be a risk," remarked Lawrence, doubtfully.
"Besides," continued Mrs. Washington, "I could not consent to his going so far from home unless it were impossible for him to gain a livelihood near by."
She was unyielding in this interview, and could see no reason why she should consent to such a separation. But Lawrence persevered in his efforts to obtain her consent, and finally it was given with manifest reluctance. A writer describes what followed thus:
"Within a short time a British man-of-war moved up the Potomac, and cast anchor in full view of Mount Vernon. On board of this vessel his brother Lawrence procured him a midshipman's warrant, after having by much persuasion gained the consent of his mother; which, however, she yielded with much reluctance and many misgivings with respect to the profession her son was about to choose. Not knowing how much pain all this was giving his mother, George was as near wild with delight as could well be with a boy of a nature so even and steady. Now, what had all along been but a waking dream was about to become a solemn reality. His preparations were soon made: already was his trunk packed, and carried on board the ship that was to bear him so far away from his native land; and nothing now remained but to bid farewell to the loved ones at home. But when he came and stood before his mother, dressed in his gay midshipman's uniform, so tall and robust in figure, so handsome in face, and so noble in look and gesture, the thought took possession of her mind, that, if she suffered him to leave her then, she might never see him more; and losing her usual firmness and self-control, she burst into tears.
"'I cannot consent to let you go,' she said, at length. 'It will break my heart, George.'
"'How can I refuse to go now that I have enlisted, and my trunk is on board?' pleaded George.
"'Order your trunk ashore, and return your uniform, my son, if you do not wish to crush your mother's heart,' responded Mrs. Washington. 'I cannot bear the thought.'"
George was overcome by the spectacle of his mother's grief, and with the tears running down his cheeks he replied, like the young hero that he was:
"'Mother, I can never go and cause you so much grief. I will stay at home.'"
His trunk was brought ashore, his uniform was returned, his tears were wiped away, and he was happier in thus yielding to his mother's reasonable request than he could or would have been in gratifying his own wishes.
The higher and nobler qualities of manly character here triumphed over the lower passions and desires. It was an excellent discipline for George, while, at the same time, the incident exhibits the sterling qualities of his heart.
The four incidents narrated present different aspects of George's character, and show, without additional proof, that he was an uncommon boy. The several qualities displayed in these experiences lie at the foundation of human excellence. Without them the future career of a youth may prove a failure. With them, a manly, virtuous character is well nigh assured.
VI.
HIS MOTHER.
"Obedience and truthfulness are cardinal virtues to be cultivated," remarked Mrs. Washington to her husband, with whom she frequently discussed the subject of family government. "No son or daughter can form a reliable character without them."
"There can be no question about that," answered Mr. Washington; "and for that reason these virtues are just as necessary for the state as they are for the family; reliable citizens cannot be made without them any more than reliable sons and daughters."
"I suppose that God means to make reliable citizens out of obedient and truthful children," continued Mrs. Washington. "Good family government assures good civil government. We must learn to obey before we know how to govern."
"And I think that obedience to parents is likely to be followed by obedience to God," responded Mr. Washington. "Disobedience is attended by a state of mind that is inimical to sincere obedience to God."
"The Bible teaches that plainly," replied Mrs. Washington. "There is something very tender and impressive in the lesson, 'Children, obey your parents in the Lord: for this is right. Honor thy father and mother; which is the first commandment with promise; that it may be well with thee, and thou mayst live long on the earth.' A longer and better life is promised to those who obey their parents, and it must be because they are led to God thereby."
"Obedience is the first commandment, according to that," remarked Mr. Washington, "the most important of all, and I have no doubt of it. We are to begin there in order to make children what they ought to be."
"The consequences of disobedience as threatened in the Scriptures are fearful," added Mrs. Washington. "There could scarcely be more startling words than these: 'The eye that mocketh at his father, and despiseth to obey his mother, the ravens of the valley shall pick it out, and the young eagles shall eat it.' Disobedience to and irreverence for parents must be wicked, indeed, to warrant such a threatening."
Here was the secret of Mrs. Washington's successful family government. That George owed more to faithful maternal example and training than he did to any other influence, he always believed and acknowledged. And OBEDIENCE was the first commandment in the Washington family. George Washington Parke Custis, a grandson, said:
"The mother of Washington, in forming him for those distinguished parts he was destined to perform, first taught him the duties of OBEDIENCE, the better to prepare him for those of command. In the well-ordered domicile where his early years were passed, the levity and indulgence common to youth was tempered by a deference and well-regulated restraint which, while it curtailed or suppressed no rational enjoyment usual in the spring-time of life, prescribed those enjoyments within the bounds of moderation and propriety.
"The matron held in reserve an authority which never departed from her; not even when her son had become the most illustrious of men. It seemed to say, 'I am your mother, the being who gave you life, the guide who directed your steps when they needed the guidance of age and wisdom, the parental affection which claimed your love, the parental authority which commanded your obedience; whatever may be your success, whatever your renown, next to your God you owe them most to me.' Nor did the chief dissent from these truths; but to the last moments of the life of his venerable parent, he yielded to her will the most dutiful and implicit obedience, and felt for her person and character the most holy reverence and attachment."
Lawrence Washington, Esq., of Chotauk, a relative and playmate of George in boyhood, described the home of the mother as follows:
"I was often there with George, his playmate, school-mate, and young man's companion. Of the mother I was ten times more afraid than I ever was of my own parents. She awed me in the midst of her kindness, for she was, indeed, truly kind. I have often been present with her sons, proper, tall fellows, too, and we were all as mute as mice; and even now, when time has whitened my locks, and I am the grandparent of a second generation, I could not behold that remarkable woman without feelings it is impossible to describe. Whoever has seen that awe-inspiring air and manner so characteristic in the Father of his Country will remember the matron as she appeared when the presiding genius of her well-ordered household, COMMANDING AND BEING OBEYED."
Mrs. Washington commanded obedience of her servants and agents as she did of her children. On one occasion she ordered an employee to perform a certain piece of work in a prescribed way. On going to the field she was disappointed.
"Did I not tell you to do that piece of work?" she inquired of him.
"Yes, madam."
"Did I not direct you how to do it?"
"Yes, madam."
"Then why have you not done as you were directed to do?"
"Because I thought my way of doing it was better than yours," the servant answered.
"Pray, tell me, who gave you any exercise of judgment in the matter? I command you, sir; there is nothing left for you but to obey."
So obedience was the law of her homestead. Outside and inside it seemed order, harmony, and efficiency.
There was one volume upon which she relied next to the Bible,—"Sir Matthew Hale's Contemplations, Moral and Divine."
Everett said of the influence of this book upon the life of Washington, "It would not be difficult to point out in the character of Washington some practical exemplification of the maxims of the Christian life as laid down by that illustrious magistrate."
That Mrs. Washington made this volume the basis of her home instruction, there is ample proof. The character of her son bore faithful witness to the fidelity with which she taught and enforced the excellent counsels which the distinguished author gave in his "Contemplations." It will assist our purpose to cite some of its lessons in brief, as follows:
"An humble man leans not to his own understanding; he is sensible of the deficiency of his own power and wisdom, and trusts not in it; he is also sensible of the all-sufficient power, wisdom, and goodness of Almighty God, and commits himself to Him for counsel, guidance, direction, and strength."
"Consider what it is thou pridest thyself in, and examine well the nature of the things themselves, how little and inconsiderable they are; at least how uncertain and unstable they are."
"Thou hast, it may be, wealth, stores of money; but how much of it is of use to thee? That which thou spendest is gone; that which thou keepest is as insignificant as so much dirt or clay; only thy care about it makes thy life the more uneasy."
"Thou has honor, esteem; thou art deceived, thou hast it not. He hath it that gives it thee, and which He may detain from thee at pleasure."
"Much time might be saved and redeemed, in retrenching the unnecessary waste thereof, in our ordinary sleep, attiring and dressing ourselves, and the length of our meals as breakfasts, dinners, suppers; which, especially in this latter age, and among people of the better sort, are protracted to an immoderate and excessive length."
"Gaming, taverns, and plays, as they are pernicious, and corrupt youth; so, if they had no other fault, yet they are justly to be declined in respect to their excessive expense of time, and habituating men to idleness and vain thoughts, and disturbing passions, when they are past, as well as while they are used."
"Be obstinately constant to your devotion at certain times, and be sure to spend the Lord's Day entirely in those religious duties proper for it; and let nothing but an inevitable necessity divert you from it."
"Be industrious and faithful to your calling. The merciful God has not only indulged us with a far greater portion of time for our ordinary occasions than he has reserved for himself, but also enjoins and requires our industry and diligence in it."
"Honesty and plain dealings in transactions, as well public as private, is the best and soundest prudence and policy, and overmatch craft and subtlety."
"To rob for burnt offerings, and to lie for God, is a greater disservice to His Majesty than to rob for rapine or lie for advantage."
"As he is overcareful that will not put on his clothes for fear of wearing them out, or use his axe for fear of hurting it, so he gives but an ill account of a healthy body that dares not employ it in a suitable occupation for fear of hurting his health."
"Improve the opportunity of place, eminence, and greatness to serve God and your country, with all vigilance, diligence, and fidelity."
"Reputation is not the thing primarily to be looked after in the exercise of virtue, for that is to affect the substance for the sake of the shadow, which is a kind of levity and weakness of mind; but look at virtue and the worth of it, as that which is first desirable, and reputation as a fair and useful accession to it."
"Take a man that is employed as a statesman or politician, though he have much wisdom and prudence, it commonly degenerates into craft and cunning and pitiful shuffling, without the fear of God; but mingle the fear of Almighty God with that kind of wisdom, and it renders it noble and generous and honest and stable."
"Whatever you do, be very careful to retain in your heart a habit of religion, that may be always about you, and keep your heart and life always as in His presence, and tending towards Him."
We might quote much more of equal value from this treasury of wisdom. The book touches humanity at almost every point, and there is scarcely any lesson, relating to the elements of success in life, which it does not contain. Industry, perseverance, self-denial, decision, energy, economy, frugality, thoroughness, magnanimity, courage, fidelity, honesty, principle, and religion,—these, and all other indispensable human qualities, receive careful and just attention. And we repeat, George Washington's character was formed upon the basis of those instructions, under the moulding power of a superior mother.
Mrs. Washington descended from a family of distinction among the Virginia colonists. Mr. Paulding says of her: "As a native of Virginia, she was hospitable by birthright, and always received her visitors with a smiling welcome. But they were never asked to stay but once, and she always speeded the parting guest by affording every facility in her power. She possessed all those domestic habits and qualities that confer value on women, and had no desire to be distinguished by any titles but those of a good wife and mother."
She was a very resolute woman, and exercised the most complete self-control in the presence of danger and difficulties. There was but a single exception to this remark, she was afraid of thunder and lightning. At fifteen years of age she was walking with a young female friend, when they were overtaken by a fearful thunder-shower, and her friend was struck by lightning at her side and instantly killed. The terrible calamity wrought seriously upon her nervous system, and from that time she was unable to control her nerves during a thunder-storm. Otherwise she was one of the most fearless and resolute women ever born in Virginia.
Mrs. Washington was not regarded as a superstitious woman, yet she had a dream when George was about five years old which so deeply impressed her that she pondered it through life. Mr. Weems gives it as she told it to a neighbor more than once, as follows:
"I dreamt," said the mother of Washington, "that I was sitting on the piazza of a large new house, into which we had but lately moved. George, at that time about five years old, was in the garden with his corn-stalk plough, busily running little furrows in the sand, in imitation of Negro Dick, a fine black boy, with whose ploughing George was so taken that it was sometimes a hard matter to get him to his dinner. And so, as I was sitting on the piazza at my work, I suddenly heard in my dream a kind of roaring noise on the eastern side of the house. On running out to see what was the matter, I beheld a dreadful sheet of fire bursting from the roof. The sight struck me with a horror which took away my strength, and threw me, almost senseless, to the ground. My husband and the servants, as I saw in my dream, soon came up; but, like myself, were so terrified at the sight that they could make no attempt to extinguish the flames. In this most distressing state the image of my little son came, I thought, to my mind, more dear and tender than ever, and turning towards the garden where he was engaged with his little corn-stalk plough, I screamed out twice with all my might, 'George! George!' In a few moments, as I thought, he threw down his mimic plough, and ran to me, saying, 'High! ma! what makes you call so angry! ain't I a good boy? don't I always run to you soon as I hear you call?' I could make no reply, but just threw up my arms towards the flame. He looked up and saw the house all on fire; but instead of bursting out a-crying, as might have been expected from a child, he instantly brightened up and seemed ready to fly to extinguish it. But first looking at me with great tenderness, he said, 'O ma, don't be afraid! God Almighty will help us, and we shall soon put it out.' His looks and words revived our spirits in so wonderful a manner that we all instantly set about to assist him. A ladder was presently brought, on which, as I saw in my dream, he ran up with the nimbleness of a squirrel and the servants supplied him with water, which he threw on the fire from an American gourd. But that growing weaker, the flame appeared to gain ground, breaking forth and roaring most dreadfully, which so frightened the servants that many of them, like persons in despair, began to leave him. But he, still undaunted, continued to ply it with water, animating the servants at the same time, both by his words and actions. For a long time the contest appeared very doubtful; but at length a venerable old man, with a tall cap and an iron rod in his hand, like a lightning-rod, reached out to him a curious little trough, like a wooden shoe! On receiving this he redoubled his exertions, and soon extinguished the fire. Our joy on the occasion was unbounded. But he, on the contrary, showing no more of transport now than of terror before, looked rather sad at the sight of the great harm that had been done. Then I saw in my dream that after some time spent as in deep thought, he called out with much joy, 'Well ma, now if you and the family will but consent, we can make a far better roof than this ever was; a roof of such a quality that, if well kept together, it will last forever; but if you take it apart, you will make the house ten thousand times worse than it was before.'"
Mr. Weems adds: "This, though certainly a very curious dream, needs no Daniel to interpret it, especially if we take Mrs. Washington's new house for the young colony government; the fire on its east side for North's civil war; the gourd, which George first employed, for the American three and six months' enlistments; the old man, with his cap and iron rod, for Dr. Franklin; the shoe-like vessel which he reached to George for the sabot, or wooden-shoed nation, the French whom Franklin courted a long time for America; and the new roof proposed by George for a staunch, honest Republic, that 'equal government' which, by guarding alike the welfare of all, ought by all to be so heartily beloved as to endure forever."
There are many anecdotes told of her which illustrate her character better than plain statement.
The death of her husband was a crushing blow to her; yet, on the whole, her Christian hope triumphed. Friends offered to assist her in the management of her large estate, for all the property left to her children was to be controlled by her until they each one became of age.
"No," she answered, "God has put the responsibility upon me by the death of my husband, and I must meet it. He will give me wisdom and strength as I need it."
"But it is too much care and labor for a woman," suggested one, thinking that what had required the constant and careful attention of a man could not be added to the cares of a woman, whose hands were full with household duties before.
"We can bear more and do more than we think we can when compelled by the force of circumstances," replied Mrs. Washington. "In ourselves we are weak, and can do but little; but by the help of God we are made equal to the demands of duty."
"Equal to all that comes within the bounds of reason," responded the relative, intending that it was unreasonable for the mother of five young children, the eldest but eleven years old, to undertake so much.
"Certainly; and the demands of duty are always within the bounds of reason," answered Mrs. Washington; "that was what I said. Providence has laid this burden of care and labor upon me, and upon no one else. While I shall be very thankful for advice and assistance from my friends, I must not shrink from the cares of this new position."
It was in this spirit that Mrs. Washington took up the additional duties devolved upon her by the sudden death of her husband. In view of this fact, Mr. Sparks paid her the following just tribute:
"In these important duties Mrs. Washington acquitted herself with great fidelity to her trust, and with entire success. Her good sense, assiduity, tenderness, and vigilance overcame every obstacle; and, as the richest reward of a mother's solicitude and toil, she had the happiness to see all her children come forward with a fair promise into life, filling the sphere allotted them in a manner equally honorable to themselves, and to the parent who had been the only guide of their principles, conduct, and habits. She lived to witness the noble career of her eldest son, till, by his own rare merits, he was raised to the head of a nation, and applauded and revered by the whole world. It has been said that there never was a great man, the elements of whose greatness might not be traced to the original characteristics or early influence of his mother. If this be true, how much do mankind owe to the mother of Washington?"
Irving said: "She proved herself worthy of the trust. Endowed with plain, direct, good sense, thorough conscientiousness, and prompt decision, she governed her family strictly, but kindly, exacting deference while she inspired affection. George, being her eldest son, was thought to be her favorite, yet she never gave him undue preference; and the implicit deference exacted from him in childhood continued to be habitually observed by him to the day of her death. He inherited from her a high temper and a spirit of command, but her early precepts and example taught him to restrain and govern that temper, and to square his conduct on the exact principles of equity and justice.
"Tradition gives an interesting picture of the widow, with her little flock gathered round her, as was her daily wont, reading to them lessons of religion and morality out of some standard work. Her favorite volume was Sir Matthew Hale's 'Contemplations, Moral and Divine.' The admirable maxims therein contained for outward actions, as well as for self-government, sank deep into the mind of George, and doubtless had a great influence in forming his character. They certainly were exemplified in his conduct throughout life. This mother's manual, bearing his mother's name, Mary Washington, written with her own hand, was ever preserved by him with filial care, and may still be seen in the archives of Mount Vernon."
When her son first engaged in the war against the French and Indians, she appeared to be indifferent to the honor conferred upon him.
"You must go at the call of your country, but I regret that it is necessary, George," she said, when he paid her his farewell visit. "May the Lord go with you, and preserve you and the country!"
"And may He preserve and bless you, whether He preserves me or not!" answered her son. "The perils of war render my return uncertain, to say the least; and it is always wise to be prepared for the worst."
"I trust that I am prepared for anything that Providence orders," responded Mrs. Washington, "though it is with pain that I approach this separation. These trying times require great sacrifices of all, and we must make them cheerfully."
"Victory would not be far away if all possessed that spirit," answered the young commander. "If there is patriotism enough in the country to defend our cause, the country will be saved."
That Washington himself was deeply affected by this interview, his own tears, when he bade his mother final adieu, bore unmistakable witness.
When the news of his crossing the Delaware, at a time of great peril and gloom in the land, was brought to her, she exclaimed, raising her hand heavenward, "Thank God! thank God for the success!"
There appeared to be no recognition of peculiar wisdom and skill on the part of her son, though the friends gathered were full of his praise.
"The country is profoundly grateful to your son for his achievements," suggested one; "and the praise of his countrymen knows no bounds."
"I have no doubt that George deserves well of his country," Mrs. Washington replied, "but, my good sir, here is too much flattery."
"No flattery at all, but deserved praise," her friend and neighbor retorted.
"Well, I have no fears about George," she replied. "He will not forget the lessons I have taught him; he will not forget himself, though he is the subject of so much praise."
After her son had left for Cambridge, Mass., to take charge of the troops, her son-in-law, Mr. Fielding Lewis, offered to lighten her labors by taking care of her property, or some part of it at least.
"No, Fielding, it is not necessary; I am competent to attend to it myself," she answered.
"I did not question your competency; I only wanted to relieve you of some care," the son-in-law answered.
"I understand and appreciate your kindness," she said; "but, nevertheless, I must decline your offer. My friends are all very kind to me, and I feel very grateful, but it is better for me to bear this responsibility as long as I can."
After discussing the subject still further, Mrs. Washington yielded in part to his request; she said:
"Fielding, you may keep my books in order, as your eyesight is better than mine, but leave the executive management to me."
When Cornwallis surrendered at Yorktown, Washington despatched a messenger to convey the glad tidings to his mother at Fredericksburg. At once her friends and neighbors called with great enthusiasm to honor her as the mother of the conqueror of England.
"Bless God!" she exclaimed, on receipt of the news. "The war will now be ended, and peace and independence and happiness bless the country."
"Your son is the most illustrious general in the world," remarked one.
"The nation idolizes him," said another.
"The soldiers almost worship him," still another.
"The saviour of his country," announced a fourth in jubilant state of mind, desiring, at the same time, to gratify his mother.
But none of these lofty tributes to her son afforded her pleasure; they seemed to annoy her by causing her to feel that the divine blessing was overlooked.
"We must not forget the great Giver, in our joy over the success of our arms," she said.
She had never forgotten Him. During those six long years of conflict, her hope had been inspired, and her comfort found, at the mercy-seat. Daily, during the warm season of the year, she had repaired to a secluded spot near her dwelling to pray for her George and her country. At other seasons of the year she daily remembered them within her quiet home. However gratified she may have been with the honors lavished upon her son, she would not allow herself to honor the creature more than the Creator.
As soon as possible after the surrender of Cornwallis, Washington visited his mother at Fredericksburg, attended by his splendid suite. The latter were extremely anxious to behold and honor the aged matron, whom their illustrious chief respected and loved so sincerely.
On arriving at Fredericksburg, he quartered his suite comfortably, and then repaired alone and on foot to see his mother, whom he had not seen for over six years. She met him at the door with feelings we cannot conceive, much less describe.
In silence and tears they embraced each other, with that tender, mutual pledge of undying love—a kiss.
"God has answered my prayers, George, and I praise Him that I see your face again," she said.
"Yes, my dear mother, God has indeed heard your prayers, and the thought that you were interceding for me at the throne of grace was always an inspiration to me," answered the son.
"How changed, George!" the mother remarked, scanning his face closely, and noticing that he had grown old rapidly. "You bear the marks of war."
"True, men grow old fast in war," the son replied; "but my health is good, and rest and peace will soon make me as good as new."
"For that I shall devoutly pray," Mrs. Washington responded.
For an hour, and more, the conversation continued, the mother making many inquiries concerning his health and future plans, the prospects of peace and prosperity to the country, and kindred subjects; but she did not drop a single word respecting his fame.
The inhabitants of Fredericksburg and vicinity immediately arranged for a grand military ball in honor of Gen. Washington and his staff. Such an occasion would furnish a favorable opportunity for the members of Washington's staff to meet his mother.
At that time, as now, it was customary for military and civic leaders to allow their joy over happy occasions to ooze out through their heels. We are unable to explain the phenomenon; but the fact remains, that a ball on a grand scale was planned, to which Washington's mother was specially invited. Her reply to the flattering invitation was characteristic.
"Although my dancing days are pretty well over, I shall be most happy to contribute what I can to the general festivity."
Mrs. Washington was then over seventy years of age.
It was the gayest assembly ever convened in Virginia at that time, and perhaps the occasion was the merriest. Gay belles and dignified matrons graced the occasion, arrayed in rich laces and bright brocades, the well preserved relics of scenes when neither national misfortune nor private calamity forbade their use.
In addition to Washington's staff, many other military officers were present, all gorgeously dressed, contributing largely to the beauty and grandeur of the scene.
"But despite the soul-soothing charm of music," says a writer, "the fascinations of female loveliness, and the flattering devotion of the gallant brave, all was eager suspense and expectation, until there entered, unannounced and unattended, the mother of Washington, leaning on the arm of her son.
"The large audience at once paid their respects to the honored guests, the mother of the chief being the central figure of the occasion. Washington presented American and European officers to his mother, who wore the simple but becoming and appropriate costume of the Virginia ladies of the olden time, while the sincere congratulations of the whole assembly were tendered to her."
The writer just quoted continues:
"The European strangers gazed long in wondering amazement upon the sublime and touching spectacle. Accustomed to the meretricious display of European courts, they regarded with astonishment her unadorned attire, and the mingled simplicity and majesty for which the language and manners of the mother of Washington were so remarkable."
When the clock struck nine, the venerable lady arose, and said:
"Come, George, it is time for old people to be at home."
Then expressing her gratification at being able to be present on so extraordinary an occasion, and wishing the company much joy, she retired, as she came, leaning on the arm of her son.
This picture of beautiful simplicity and absence of pride, in the midst of distinguished honors, contrasts finely with a scene in the life of another great general, Napoleon. On one occasion, when Napoleon gave audience to famous guests, together with several members of his family, his mother advanced towards him. According to a royal custom, the emperor extended his hand to her to kiss, as he had done when his brothers and sisters approached him.
"No," responded his mother; "you are the king, the emperor of all the rest, but you are my son."
Mrs. Washington was always actuated by a similar sense of propriety; and her demeanor towards the general seemed to say, "You are my son." And the general accepted that exhibition of maternal dignity and love as proper and honorable.
At the close of the Revolution, Lafayette, before leaving the country, visited Mrs. Washington at her home. One of her grandsons accompanied him to the house. As they approached, the grandson said, pointing to an old lady in the garden:
"There is my grandmother in the garden."
"Indeed!" answered Lafayette. "I am happy to find her able to be out."
Lafayette saluted her in his cordial way on coming up to her, when she replied:
"Ah, Marquis, you see an old woman; but come, I can make you welcome to my poor dwelling without the parade of changing my dress."
"I come to bid you adieu before leaving the country," remarked Lafayette, when they were seated in the house. "I desired to see you once more."
"I assure you that nothing could afford me more real pleasure than to welcome once more to my home so distinguished a friend of my son and my country," Mrs. Washington answered.
"I congratulate you upon having such a son and such a country," continued Lafayette.
"I trust that I am grateful for both," Mrs. Washington replied.
"I rejoice with you in your son's well-earned fame," continued the distinguished Frenchman, "and I am glad that you have lived to see this day."
Lafayette proceeded to rehearse the patriotic deeds of Washington for his country, growing more and more enthusiastic in his praise as he continued, until finally Mrs. Washington remarked:
"I am not surprised at what George has done, for he was always a good boy."
Washington retired to his home at Mount Vernon at the close of the war, and earnestly entreated his mother to take up her abode with him.
"You are too aged and infirm to live alone," he said, "and I can have no greater pleasure than to have you in my family."
"I feel truly grateful for your kindness, George, but I enjoy my mode of life," she answered. "I think it is according to the direction of Providence."
"It would not be in opposition to Providence if you should come to live with me," responded Washington with a smile.
"Nevertheless, I must decline. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your interest and love, but I feel fully competent to take care of myself."
That settled the question, and she remained at Fredericksburg.
When Washington was elected President of the United States, he paid a farewell visit to his mother. He was about to depart for the seat of government, which was in New York City.
"I would gladly have avoided this responsibility for your sake, as well as mine," remarked Washington; "but Providence seemed to leave me no way of escape, and I have come to bid you an affectionate farewell."
"You are in the way of duty, George, and I have no desire to interpose," his mother answered. "My race is almost run, and I shall never see you again in the flesh."
"I hope we shall meet again; though at your great age, and with such a serious disease upon you, the end cannot be far away," replied the son.
Mrs. Washington was then eighty-three years of age, and was suffering from a cancer in the breast.
"Yes, I am old and feeble, and growing more so every day," continued his mother; "and I wait the summons of the Master without fear or anxiety."
Pausing a moment, as if to control emotion, she added, "Go, George, and fulfil the high destiny to which Providence calls you; and may God continue to guide and bless you!"
At this point let Mr. Custis speak:
"Washington was deeply affected. His head rested upon the shoulder of his parent, whose aged arm feebly, yet fondly, encircled his neck. That brow, on which fame had wreathed the purest laurel virtue ever gave to created man, relaxed from its lofty bearing. That look, which would have awed a Roman senate in its Fabrician day, was bent in filial tenderness upon the time-worn features of the aged matron. He wept. A thousand recollections crowded upon his mind, as memory, retracing scenes long passed, carried him back to the maternal mansion and the days of juvenility, where he beheld that mother, whose care, education, and discipline caused him to reach the topmost height of laudable ambition. Yet, how were his glories forgotten while he gazed upon her whom, wasted by time and malady, he should part with to meet no more!"
Washington never saw his mother again. She died Aug. 25, 1789. Her last days were characterized by that cheerful resignation to the divine will for which she was ever distinguished, and she passed away in the triumphs of Christian faith.
Her remains were laid in the burial ground of Fredericksburg, in a spot which she selected, because it was situated near the place where she was wont to retire for meditation and prayer. For many years her grave was unmarked by slab or monument; but in 1833, Silas E. Barrows, Esq., of New York City, undertook the erection of a monument at his own expense.
On the seventh day of May of that year, President Jackson laid the corner-stone in the presence of a great concourse of people. It was estimated that more than fifteen thousand persons assembled to honor the dead.
The plan of the monument was pyramidical, and the height of the obelisk forty-five feet. A colossal bust of Washington adorned the shaft, surmounted by the American eagle sustaining a civic crown above the hero's head, and with the simple inscription:
MARY,
THE MOTHER OF
WASHINGTON.
From President Jackson's eulogy on the interesting occasion, we make the following brief extract:
"In the grave before us lie the remains of his mother. Long has it been unmarked by any monumental tablet, but not unhonored. You have undertaken the pious duty of erecting a column to her name, and of inscribing upon it the simple but affecting words, 'Mary, the Mother of Washington.' No eulogy could be higher, and it appeals to the heart of every American.... The mother and son are beyond the reach of human applause, but the bright example of paternal and filial excellence which their conduct furnishes cannot but produce the most salutary effects upon our countrymen. Let their example be before us from the first lesson which is taught the child, till the mother's duties yield to the course of preparation and action which nature prescribes for him....
"Fellow citizens, at your request, and in your name, I now deposit this plate in the spot destined for it; and when the American pilgrim shall, in after ages, come up to this high and holy place, and lay his hand upon this sacred column, may he recall the virtues of her who sleeps beneath, and depart with his affections purified and his piety strengthened, while he invokes blessings upon the mother of Washington."
John Adams wrote to his wife concerning a certain statesman: "In reading history, you will generally observe, when you find a great character, whether a general, a statesman, or a philosopher, some female about him, either in the character of a mother, wife, or sister, who has knowledge and ambition above the ordinary level of women; and that much of his eminence is owing to her precepts, example, or instigation in some shape or other."
This remark was remarkably illustrated in the career of Washington. He always acknowledged his indebtedness to maternal influence. He could say, with John Quincy Adams, "Such as I have been, whatever it was; such as I am, whatever it is; and such as I hope to be in all futurity, must be ascribed, under Providence, to the precepts and example of my mother."
Historians and poets, statesmen and orators, have ever accorded to the mother of Washington a signal influence to determine his character and career. And so universal is this sentiment, that the American people consider that the noblest tribute to her memory is the inscription upon her monument:
MARY,
THE MOTHER OF
WASHINGTON.
VII.
YOUNG SURVEYOR.
"George can make his home with me, now that his school-days are over," said Lawrence to his mother, anxious to keep his young brother in his own family at Mount Vernon.
"But I need him more than you do," objected Mrs. Washington; "you can hardly imagine how I miss him."
"So do we miss him when he is not here," responded Lawrence. "George is good company, as much so as a man of twenty-five years of age. I want very much that he should make his home with me."
"I thought he might be of service to me in running the farm, and, at the same time, pursue his studies by himself," continued Mrs. Washington.
"He can study better with me," suggested Lawrence, "because I can assist him as well as not."
"There is no doubt of that," replied the mother, "and that is the only reason I can see why he should make his home with you."
"There is one other reason, mother, and a good one, too."
"What is it?"
"He will have a better opportunity to get into business if he lives with me. I have much company, and just the class of men to introduce a capable youth like George into some good pursuit."
"There is something in that," responded Mrs. Washington.
"There is much in it every way," added Lawrence. "George is now at an age when his plans for life should be forming. He is competent to occupy almost any position that offers, and I can be of real service to him in directing and advising him."
There is evidence to believe that Lawrence had not wholly abandoned the idea of introducing George into military life. He himself had become a man of influence in the State. He was a member of the House of Burgesses, and adjutant-general of his district; a gentleman of acknowledged ability and position. He saw in George the foreshadowing of a distinguished man. He had more exalted ideas than his mother of the boy's ability and promise. If he could have him in his family, he could assist him onward and upward, beyond what would be possible if he remained with his mother.
It was finally settled that George should take up his abode with Lawrence at Mount Vernon. We need not say that this decision was congenial to George. He was so strongly attached to Lawrence, and enjoyed being at Mount Vernon so much, that he found great delight in removing thither permanently. It proved to be a very important step in his career, as Lawrence prophesied it would be.
George had not passed his sixteenth birthday. Though still a boy, his views and aims of life were those of a man. He pursued arithmetic and surveying under the direction of his brother, with reference to future manhood. Nor was that all.
One day Lawrence surprised him by the inquiry, "George, how would you like to take lessons in the manual exercise of Adjutant Muse?"
"I should like it," George replied.
"It may be of service to you at some future day," Lawrence continued. "It will do you no harm, surely."
"I am ready for the lessons any time," added George. "I have always had a desire to know something in that line."
Adjutant Muse served with Lawrence in the war against the Spaniards in the West Indies, and he was a competent teacher of the manual exercise. It was arranged that he should instruct George in the art.
Subsequently, also, Lawrence made arrangements with Monsieur Van Braam to instruct George in the art of fencing. He had an idea that dexterity in the use of his limbs, as well as fire-arms, would be of future use to him. These facts indicate that Lawrence did not expect that his young brother would become a farmer. There is traditional evidence that he stated as much to George, whose military aspirations were nurtured in the Mount Vernon home.
Adjutant Muse encouraged George to read certain treaties upon the art of war, which he offered to loan him. From these volumes he acquired considerable knowledge of the theory of tactics, and of the evolution of troops. No previous branch of study had enlisted his interest more thoroughly than did these works upon military tactics; and we may easily discover the design of Providence to prepare him in this way to act a conspicuous part in the achievement of American independence.
At Mount Vernon George met William Fairfax, whose daughter Lawrence married. He occupied a valuable estate of his cousin Lord Fairfax, at Belvoir, seven or eight miles from Mount Vernon. He was an English gentleman of culture and wealth, very much respected by all who knew him.
Mr. Fairfax became very much interested in George, regarding him as a youth of rare, manly virtues.
"He is a man already," he remarked to Lawrence; "very mature for one of his years."
"I think so," Lawrence answered, "and I hope the way will be opened for his noblest development."
"He must visit us at Belvoir; I should delight to have him spend much time in my family," Mr. Fairfax added.
"And I should be pleased to have him," responded Lawrence. "He would derive great benefit from it."
"My sons and daughters would find him a very genial companion," continued Mr. Fairfax. "I think the benefit from the society of each other would be mutual."
In this way George was introduced to the Fairfax family, with whom he spent many of his happiest days and weeks. It was one of the most favorable incidents of his young life when he was welcomed to that family, for there he enjoyed society of culture, where character, and neither wealth nor honors, ranked highest. Just at that age he needed the influence of education and cultivated manners, and here he found both with the sons and daughters of Mr. Fairfax. Alternately, between this family at Belvoir and his brother's family at Mount Vernon, he enjoyed a discipline of social intercourse, better for him, in some respects, than even Mr. Williams's school.
At Belvoir George met Lord Fairfax, a relative of William Fairfax, recently from England. "He was the owner of immense domains in Virginia," says Mr. Everett. "He had inherited through his mother, the daughter of Lord Culpepper, the original grantee, a vast tract of land, originally including the entire territory between the Potomac and Rappahannock Rivers."
Mr. Everett says of him further: "Lord Fairfax was a man of cultivated mind, educated at Oxford, the associate of the wits of London, the author of one or two papers in the Spectator, and an habitué of the polite circles of the metropolis. A disappointment in love is said to have cast a shadow over his after life, and to have led him to pass his time in voluntary exile on his Virginia estates, watching and promoting the rapid development of the resources of the country, following the hounds through the primeval forests, and cheering his solitary hours by reading and a limited society of chosen friends."
The "love affair" to which Mr. Everett refers is explained by Mr. Irving as follows:
"In the height of his fashionable career he became strongly attached to a young lady of rank, paid his addresses, and was accepted. The wedding day was fixed; the wedding dresses were provided, together with servants and equipages for the matrimonial establishment. Suddenly the lady broke her engagement. She had been dazzled by the superior brilliancy of a ducal coronet.
"It was a cruel blow alike to the affection and pride of Lord Fairfax, and wrought a change in both character and conduct. From that time he almost avoided the sex, and became shy and embarrassed in their society, excepting among those with whom he was connected or particularly intimate. This may have been among the reasons which ultimately induced him to abandon the gay world and bury himself in the wilds of America."
Lord Fairfax was charmed by the appearance of George.
"A remarkable lad," he said to his relative, William Fairfax; "so manly, so intelligent in knowledge beyond his years."
"Yet not a mere book-worm," replied William. "No boy likes games and hunting better than he."
"A capital horseman, I notice," added the nobleman; "strong and powerful for one of his years. Yet he likes books. It seems to me that he is unusually fond of reading."
Lord Fairfax possessed quite a number of valuable books, new and rare to George, who had pored over them with absorbing interest. The nobleman inferred that he must possess an unusual taste for reading, and this was really true.
"Yes, he generally wants to know what the books he meets with contain," responded William. "He has made the contents of such books as he could reach his own."
"I must take him out hunting with me," continued Lord Fairfax. "He will make a good companion, I imagine."
Lord Fairfax delighted in fox-hunting. In England, before he came to this country, his best sport was found in the fox-hunt. He kept his hounds, and all the accoutrements for the chase, so that he was always prepared for the sport. He found increased pleasure in the pastime after George became his companion in the chase. The latter enjoyed it, too, with a keen relish. It was not altogether new to him; he had been occasionally on such excursions with others. But the English nobleman understood fox-hunting as no one else in Virginia did. He had learned it as practised by English lords, who live in baronial style. For this reason George enjoyed the wild sport as he never did before.
One day George was surprised by a proposition from Lord Fairfax.
"How would you like to survey my lands for me, George? You appear to understand the business."
"I should like nothing better if I can do it to suit you," George answered. "I like surveying."
"Well, the only way for me to do is to survey my land, and sell it, if I would keep 'squatters' off," added Lord Fairfax. "Squatters" were a class of persons took up their abode upon lands which did not belong to them, without leave or license.
"You can do it to suit me, I have no doubt," continued the noble lord, "and I can satisfy you as to pay."
"I will confer with Lawrence about it," said George; "and I shall want to see my mother, also, I have no doubt but that they will think well of the plan."
"That is right," answered Lord Fairfax. "Think it over carefully before you decide. You can undertake the work any time."
George was not long in consulting Lawrence, nor in securing the approval of his mother. He had frequently been home to see his mother, improving every favorable opportunity to show his filial devotion thereby. On this visit, the prospect of an honorable and remunerative pursuit added interest thereto.
Having obtained the approval of his mother and Lawrence, and formally accepted the proposition of Lord Fairfax, George set to work in earnest preparation for the task. He would be under the necessity of plunging into the wilderness, where savage beasts and savage men might confront him at almost any time. He must travel on horseback with attendants carrying his outfit at considerable disadvantage, shooting game and catching fish for food, and be absent weeks and possibly months at a time. Camping out at night, or finding a lodge in some poor cabin, breasting severe storms, encountering Indians, and other new experiences required preparation.
George William Fairfax, a son of William, accompanied him, together with two or three attendants. A writer describes the heroic boy, then sixteen years of age, as follows:
"There he is, a tall, handsome youth, with his right arm thrown across the horse's neck, and his left hand grasping his compass-staff. He is clad in a buck-skin hunting-shirt, with leggings and moccasins of the same material, the simple garb of a backwoods man, and one that well becomes him now, as in perfect keeping with the wildness of the surrounding scenery; while in his broad leathern belt are stuck the long hunting-knife and Indian tomahawk. In stature he is much above most youths of the same age. He is of a noble, robust form, with high and strong but smooth features, light brown hair, large blue eyes, not brilliant, but beaming with a clear and steady light, as if a soul looked through them that knew no taint of vice or meanness, and a countenance aglow with truth and courage, modest gentleness, and manly self-reliance."
"You must continue to keep your journal," said Lawrence; "it will be more valuable than ever to you."
George had kept a journal of events and experiences for two or three years, and his brother encouraged him in doing it as valuable discipline.
"I intend to do it," answered George, "and I shall take more interest in it because I shall have something worth recording."
"Twenty or thirty years from now you will put a higher value upon your journal than you do now," added Lawrence. "I should recommend every youth to keep a journal."
"Especially in the woods," responded George, facetiously.
"Yes, in the woods or out; no boy can afford to lose the discipline of it," rejoined Lawrence. "For so simple and easy practice it pays a large interest."
"Small investments and large income! That is what you mean," remarked George.
"Exactly; my word for it, you will find it so," added Lawrence.
That journal has proved of far more value than Lawrence predicted. After the lapse of over one hundred and thirty years, we are able to learn from it about the hardships, dangers, and severe labors of his surveying expeditions. A few extracts from letters and journal will afford an insight into that important period of his life.
He wrote to one of his friends, after an experience of several months, thus:
"Your letter gave me the more pleasure, as I received it among barbarians, and an uncouth set of people. Since you received my last letter I have not slept above three or four nights in a bed; but after walking a good deal all the day, I have lain down before the fire upon a little hay, straw, fodder, or a bear-skin—whichsoever was to be had—with man, wife, and children, like dogs and cats; and happy is he who gets the berth nearest the fire. Nothing would make it pass off tolerably but a good reward. A doubloon[A] is my constant gain every day that the weather will permit my going out, and sometimes six pistoles[B]. The coldness of the weather will not allow of my making a long stay, as the lodging is rather too cold for the time of year. I have never had my clothes off, but have lain and slept in them, except the few nights I have been in Fredericksburg."
[A] $7 50.
[B] A pistole was $3.50
The entry in his journal for the third day after he started, in March, 1748, was as follows:
"Worked hard till night, and then returned. After supper we were lighted into a room; and I, not being so good a woodsman as the rest, stripped myself very orderly, and went into the bed, as they called it, when, to my surprise, I found it to be nothing but a little straw matted together, without sheet or anything else, but only one threadbare blanket, with double its weight of vermin. I was glad to get up and put on my clothes, and lie as my companions did. Had we not been very tired, I am sure that we should not have slept much that night. I made a promise to sleep so no more, choosing rather to sleep in the open air before a fire."
George commenced operations for Lord Fairfax early in March, when the mountains were still white with snow, and wintry blasts swept over the plains. The heavy rains of spring had swollen the streams into torrents, so that it was perilous to ford them. Of course the hardships of such an expedition were largely increased by the rough, cold weather of the season.
Abbot says: "The enterprise upon which Washington had entered was one full of romance, toil, and peril. It required the exercise of constant vigilance and sagacity. Though these wilds may be called pathless still there were here and there narrow trails, which the moccasined foot of the savage had trodden for centuries. They led in a narrow track, scarcely two feet in breadth, through dense thickets, over craggy hills, and along the banks of placid streams or foaming torrents."
Everett says: "The hardships of this occupation will not be fully comprehended by those who are acquainted with the surveyor's duties only as they are practised in old and thickly settled countries. In addition to the want of accommodation, the service was attended by serious perils. In new countries, of which 'squatters' have begun to take possession, the surveyor is at all times a highly unwelcome visitor, and sometimes goes about his duties at the risk of his life. Besides this, a portion of the land traversed by Washington formed a part of that debatable land, the disputed right to which was the original moving cause of the 'Seven Years' War.' The French were already in motion, both from Canada and Louisiana, to preoccupy the banks of the Ohio, and the savages in their interest roamed the intervening country up to the settlements of Virginia."
Another entry in his journal is the following:
"Rained till about two o'clock, and then cleared up, when we were agreeably surprised at the sight of more than thirty Indians, coming from war with only one scalp. We had some liquor with us, of which we gave them a part. This, elevating their spirits, put them in the humor of dancing. We then had a war dance. After clearing a large space, and making a great fire in the middle, the men seated themselves around it, and the speaker made a grand speech, telling them in what manner they were to dance. After he had finished, the best dancer jumped up, as one awakened from sleep, and ran and jumped about the ring in the most comical manner. He was followed by the rest. Then began their music, which was performed with a pot half full of water, and a deer skin stretched tight over it, and a gourd with some shot in it to rattle, and a piece of horse's tail tied to it to make it look fine. One person kept rattling and another drumming all the while they were dancing."
George had never seen Indians in their wigwams until his surveying expedition. He had never witnessed a war dance nor been brought face to face with these red men until he engaged in this pursuit for Lord Fairfax. The Indians were friendly, though it was known that they looked upon the encroachments of the English colonists with suspicion, if not with some bitterness. Occasionally a wandering band plundered defenceless families and spread consternation abroad. But such hostile demonstrations were exceptional.
"Strange must have been the emotions which at times agitated the bosom of this pensive, reflective, heroic boy, as at midnight, far away from the haunts of civilization, in the wigwam of the savage, he listened to the wailings of the storm, interrupted only by the melancholy cry of the night-bird, and the howl of wolves and other unknown beasts of prey. By the flickering light of the wigwam fire, he saw, sharing his couch, the dusky form of the Indian hunter, his squaw, and his pappooses."
Other entries in his journal show that George was compelled to submit to privations that were new and strange to him.
"Travelled up to Solomon Hedges', Esquire, to-day, one of His Majesty's Justices of the Peace, in the county of Frederick, where we camped. When we came to supper there was neither a knife on the table nor a fork to eat with; but as good luck would have it, we had knives of our own."
George put in italics the words indicated, evidently to call attention to the poverty and degradation of some of "His Majesty's Justices." He had a high-sounding title to his name, but neither knife nor fork!
"April 8: We camped in the woods, and after we had pitched our tent and made a large fire, we pulled out our knapsacks to recruit ourselves. Every one was his own cook. Our spits were forked sticks, our plates were large chips. As for dishes, we had none."
One "blowing, rainy night," George was startled from a sound sleep by the cry of "Fire! Fire! Fire!"
He sprung to his feet half asleep, scarcely knowing what unearthly sound awoke him.
"Your bed is on fire, George," shouted the same companion. "Narrow escape for you."
Sure enough, George discovered that the straw on which he was lying had taken fire, and, but for the timely warning of his more wakeful companion, he must have been severely burned.
His diary contained such items as, "The number of acres in each lot surveyed, the quality of the soil, the height of the hills, the growth of plants and trees, the extent of the valleys, and the length, breadth, and course of the streams." On these various topics he reported to his employer, furnishing him thereby the necessary data on which to base a judgment on sale of land.
Mr. Sparks, speaking of the thoroughness of his work as a surveyor, says, "Nor was his skill confined to the more simple processes of the art. He used logarithms, and proved the accuracy of his work by different methods. The manuscripts fill several quires of paper, and are remarkable for the care with which they were kept, the neatness and uniformity of the handwriting, the beauty of the diagrams, and a precise method and arrangement in copying out tables and columns of figures. These particulars will not be thought too trivial to be noticed when it is known he retained similar habits through life. His business papers, day-books, ledgers, and letter-books, in which, before the Revolution, no one wrote but himself, exhibit specimens of the same studious care and exactness. Every fact occupies a clear and distinct place."
Mr. Everett says: "He soon became distinguished for the accuracy of his surveys, and obtained the appointment of a public surveyor, which enabled him to enter his plans as legally valid in the county offices. The imperfect manner in which land surveys at that time were generally executed led in the sequel to constant litigation; but an experienced practitioner in the Western courts pronounced in after years that, of all the surveys which had come within his knowledge, those of Washington could alone be depended upon."
Mr. Weems mentions George's connection with the family of Widow Stevenson, with whom he made headquarters while surveying Frederick County, which was then very large, embracing what is now Berkeley, Jefferson, and Shenandoah Counties. She had seven sons, William, Valentine, John, Hugh, Dick, James, and Mark, all stalwart fellows. These seven young men, in Herculean size and strength, were equal, perhaps, to any seven sons of any one mother in Christendom. This was a family exactly to George's mind, because promising him an abundance of that manly exercise in which he delighted.
"Come," said Valentine, "let us go out to the Green, and see who the best man is."
The "Green" was an extended level field in front of the house, a nice spot for jumping, wrestling, and other sports. By a trial to see which was "the best man," Valentine meant to see who would excel in these athletic exercises.
"Agreed," responded George, "I am tired enough to go to bed, but it always rests me to test my strength."
It was just at night, and George had just come in from a trip of several days. He came around to Mrs. Stevenson's as often as he could, though he camped in the woods at night most of the time.
"That is so with me," said Dick. "I sleep better after an Indian hug, or a few long leaps, or a hard run."
"Provided you beat," suggested John. "I don't believe that it contributes much to your sleep when you are worsted."
"Don't sleep so soundly, perhaps," replied Dick, humorously. "It would give me a pretty long nap to lay George on his back."
"Yes, I think it would," retorted George. "Perhaps you would never wake up, you would be so happy and that would be a great pity."
"Well, come," urged William, who had been a close listener, "let us see what we can do. It will get to be dark while we are talking."
And so they hurried away to the "Green" for sport. This was done again and again during his stay with the Stevensons. Mr. Weems says:
"Here it was that George, after a hard day's toil at surveying, like a young Greek training for the Olympic games, used to turn out with his sturdy young companions, 'to see,' as they termed it, 'which was the best man' at running, jumping, and wrestling. And so keen was their passion for these sports, and so great their ambition to out-do one another, that they would often keep them up, especially on moon shining nights, till bed-time. Mrs. Stevenson's sons, though not taller than George, were much heavier men; so that at wrestling, and particularly at the close or Indian Hug, he seldom gained much matter of triumphs. But in all trials of agility, they stood no chance with him."
Mr. Weems continues:
"From these Frederick County gymnastics there followed an effect which shows the very wide difference between participating in innocent and guilty pleasures. While companions in raking and gambling heartily despise and hate one another, and when they meet in the streets pass each other with looks cold and shy as sheep-thieving curs, these virtuous young men, by spending their evenings together in innocent and manly exercises, contracted a friendship which lasted for life. When George, twenty-five years after this, was called to lead the American armies, he did not forget his old friends, but gave commissions to all of them who chose to join the army. William, who was as brave a man as ever shouldered a musket, was advanced as high as the rank of colonel, when he was burned to death by the Indians at Sandusky. And equally cordial was the love of these young men for George, of whom they ever spoke as of a brother."
When Washington had attained his highest honors, and the War of Independence was over, the Stevensons loved to rehearse their runnings and wrestlings with him. Said Hugh exultingly to some friends:
"Brother John and I have often laid the conqueror of England on his back."
"But we were no match for him in running and jumping," honestly retorted John.
It was George's thorough survey and glowing description of a region beyond the Blue Ridge that induced Lord Fairfax to erect a costly stone mansion there for his trans-Atlantic home. He called it Greenaway Court, and it became one of the most beautiful and attractive estates in Virginia, where the proprietor lived in an expensive style, dispensing a generous hospitality. It was at Greenaway Court that George first read the history of England.
George's success as a surveyor for Lord Fairfax called the attention of the Virginia authorities to him, and he was appointed public surveyor, as stated by Mr. Everett, whom we have quoted, deriving a discipline therefrom which was of great service to him in his future public career. The business, also, made him familiar with the country, particularly the Shenandoah Valley, which means "Shining daughter of the stars," so that he was able to invest money afterwards to great advantage in real estate.
That George did not forget his "Lowland Beauty," even after his pleasant connection with the Fairfax family, is quite evident from one of his letters to an old companion, as follows:
Dear Robin:—As it is the greatest mark of affection and esteem which absent friends can show each other to write and often communicate their thoughts, I shall endeavor from time to time to acquaint you with my situation and employments in life. And I could wish you would take half the pains to send me a letter by any opportunity, as you may be well assured of its meeting with a welcome reception. My place at present is at Lord Fairfax's, where I might, were I disengaged, pass my time very pleasantly, as there is a very agreeable young lady in the house, Colonel George Fairfax's wife's sister. But that only adds fuel to the fire, as being often and unavoidably in her company revives my former passion for your Lowland Beauty; whereas, were I to live more retired from young ladies, I might in some measure alleviate my sorrow, by burying that chaste and troublesome passion in oblivion; and I am very well assured that this will be the only antidote or remedy.
Providence was sending him to a noble destiny. We can trace the divine discipline all through the privations and responsibilities of his life as surveyor. God was preparing him for the Revolution of 1776.
Mr. Frost, one of his biographers, says: "The business of practical surveying undoubtedly formed a very important part of Washington's preparation for the office of military commander. It not only hardened and invigorated the already robust frame, but it educated his eye, and accustomed him to judge respecting distances, and advantages of position. By making him an able civil engineer, it laid the foundation of his future eminence in a military capacity. It was more immediately advantageous to him by procuring for him the acquaintance of the principal landholders of the State, and by making known to them his remarkable judgment, good-sense, and ability in the conduct of affairs. The effect of this last circumstance was seen in his appointment, at the age of nineteen, to the office of adjutant-general, with the rank of major. This gave him the charge of a district, with the duty of exercising the militia, inspecting their arms, and superintending their discipline."
Lord Fairfax loved him with the love of a father, but he did not dream that he was becoming the benefactor of England's conqueror.
Mr. Weems says: "Little did the old gentleman expect that he was educating a youth who should one day dismember the British Empire, and break his own heart, which truly came to pass; for on hearing that Washington had captured Cornwallis and all his army, he called out to his black servant, 'Come, Joe, carry me to my bed, for it is high time for me to die.'"
VIII.
MILITARY HONORS.
"There is a chance for you, George, in the reorganization of the militia," remarked Lawrence, who was personally interested in a movement to improve the soldiery of Virginia.
"What chance?" George asked.
"For an appointment as my successor. The state of my health makes my resignation necessary, and you are competent to take charge of my district."
"My youth will prevent that."
"Not necessarily. Youth will not weigh so much against you as a competency will do for you. Qualifications for the place is what the authorities will require."
"And their attention will naturally be directed to older men, who are well known," suggested George.
"But I propose to present your claims, when I forward my resignation, myself," continued Lawrence.
"You have enjoyed superior opportunities to fit you for such a position; and for the appointing power to know your qualifications is to secure to you the place."
"What will be my duties if I get the appointment?" inquired George.
"You will be adjutant-general, with the rank of major, and will have charge of the militia in the district. You will have to drill them at stated times, inspect their arms, and make their organization as thorough as possible."
"And give all my time to the work?"
"No, not all your time will be required. It is no small responsibility to assume, however; but you are equal to it, and it will be a grand school for you. You will have a salary of one hundred and fifty pounds, and you will be held responsible for the efficiency of the militia."
"I don't know about taking so much responsibility upon myself," responded George, whose modest estimate of his own abilities was one of his virtues. "Experience is indispensable for such a position, it seems to me, and I have not had experience."
"Well, we will see what can be done," added Lawrence. "I have made up my mind to intercede for you as my successor, as the best qualified of any man I know in this district for the position. I may fail, but I shall try."
Lawrence accomplished his purpose in due time, and George was appointed to the command of the militia in the district, although he was but nineteen years of age. No difficulty was experienced in securing the position for him, for his exploits in the role of surveyor were well known. His character and ability had also given him considerable public notoriety for one of his years.
Lawrence was in feeble health at this time. Pulmonary troubles had been gradually undermining his constitution for two or three years, although he continued to serve the colony in public relations. Winter was approaching, and his physician advised a change of climate. The severity of another Virginia winter might prove too much for him.
"If I go to Barbadoes you must go with me," said Lawrence to George. "It will not be necessary for you to enter upon your new duties as commander of the district until spring."
"Then your wife will not go," answered George, inferring that his services would be required because hers could not be had.
"No; she will not be able to go, and I cannot think of going alone."
"Well, I shall be very willing to go," continued George, "and think I shall enjoy the change. That you need to escape from the Virginia winter is very evident. You are not as well as you were six months ago."
"No one can be so conscious of that as myself," remarked Lawrence, with a degree of sadness that pierced George's heart. "I have failed very fast within the last three months, and I sometimes doubt whether a change of climate will do me any good."
"Perhaps your view of the case is too gloomy," suggested George, whom we ought to call Major Washington now, but will not at present. "I believe that the foreign air will put new life into you."
"That is what I need," responded Lawrence, "for the old life within me is rapidly dying out. I must get new strength from some source, or my days are numbered."
Lawrence was very much depressed at this time, and he was also peevish and difficult to please. George could manage him better than any one else, except his wife, for the reason that his confidence in his young brother was unbounded. The latter knew how to encourage the sick man without concealing from him his true condition. Lawrence was certainly in a very critical state of health, and his physician had so announced to his friends. George was alarmed about his brother, although he was confident that a winter in Barbadoes would put him in the way of complete restoration.
It was settled that they should spend the winter in Barbadoes, and hasty preparations were made for the voyage. George had accepted his appointment, but, now arranged to enter upon the duties of the office after his return. He was glad to be able to accompany his brother to a more favorable clime.
We have not space to record their experience abroad in detail. It will answer our purpose to record the fact that a change of climate did not improve Lawrence Washington. On the whole, he continued to fail, so that he returned to Virginia late in the spring of 1751, a weaker and less happy man. His sojourn in a warmer country through the winter and spring months proved that he was beyond hope of recovery.
George had one experience in Barbadoes that we must record. He was attacked by the small-pox with considerable severity, occasioning much anxiety to Lawrence. However, he rallied from the attack more rapidly than was expected, his good physical condition enabling him to resist disease as weaker ones cannot. But he carried the marks of the loathsome disease through life.
George kept a journal when abroad, as he had done at home, and the entries concerning the small-pox are as follows:
"Nov. 4, 1751.—This morning received a card from Major Clarke, welcoming us to Barbadoes, with an invitation to breakfast and dine with him. We went—myself with some reluctance, as the small-pox was in the family. We were received in the most kind and friendly manner by him."
That he took the small-pox when on this friendly visit is evident from the entry in his journal for Nov. 17, as follows:
"Was strongly attacked with the small-pox. Sent for Dr. Lanahan, whose attendance was very constant till my recovery and going out, which were not till Thursday, the 12th of December."
We ought to state that in February of 1752, as there was no perceptible improvement in Lawrence, Dr Lanahan decided that he should remove to Bermuda in the early spring. This would prolong his stay, and it was agreed that George should return to Virginia, and accompany Mrs. Washington and children to Bermuda, where she would meet her husband.
George returned, reaching Mount Vernon about the 1st of April. But Lawrence continued to fail in health, which modified his plans, so that he relinquished the idea of going to Bermuda, preferring rather to return to his native land and die. His wife remained at home to await his coming, about the 1st of June. He lived but six or seven weeks after reaching Mount Vernon, and died on the 26th of July, at the age of thirty-four. Conscious that his speedy death was inevitable, he made every arrangement necessary for the sad change. He had large possessions, which he left to his wife and only child, though he showed his strong attachment to George by a liberal legacy. In the event of his child's death, the Mount Vernon estate would revert to George. The child did not long survive, whereupon this valuable estate came into George's possession. Although he was but twenty years old when his brother died, he was the chief executor of his will.
Mr. Everett says of him: "George was appointed one of the executors of his will, by which, in the event of the daughter's decease, Mount Vernon was bequeathed to him. Although the youngest of the executors, in consequence of his more thorough knowledge of his brother's affairs, the responsible management of his extensive estates devolved upon him. He did not, however, allow these private engagements to interfere with his public duties. As the probability of a collision on the frontier increased, greater attention was paid to the military organization of the province. On the arrival of Governor Dinwiddie from England in 1752, it was divided into four military districts, and Washington's appointment was renewed as adjutant-general of the northern division, in which several counties were included. The duties devolving upon him under this commission, in attending the reviews of the militia and superintending their exercises, were performed with a punctuality and zeal, which rapidly drew towards him the notice and favor of the community."
On the 4th of November, 1852, George was initiated into the Masonic Lodge of "Free and Accepted Masons" at Fredericksburg, and on the third of March following, he was advanced to the second degree of fellowcraft, and on the 4th of August next after, he was made a Master Mason.
Governor Dinwiddie's renewal of George's commission on his return, imposed immediate military duties upon him. The organization and drilling of the militia, inspection of their arms and accoutrements, together with other duties, made a large draft upon his thoughts and labors. Still, he found time to be with his brother Lawrence during his declining moments, and was with him when he died, performing the last deeds of fraternal love in a manner that honored his noble nature.
There was a growing excitement now about the encroachments of the French, and the Colonists began to feel that their rights and honor were at stake. It was quite evident that the French designed to gain ascendency in North America, while the English considered that their claim to its rule was pre-eminent. The French had established a line of military fortified posts from Canada to the southern part of the Mississippi, and they were fast securing a foothold in the beautiful valley of the Ohio.
The English said: "England discovered this country fifty years ago, and has a better right to it than the French have."
France denied this claim, because "her ships were the first which entered the River St. Lawrence, and her voyagers, ascending the magnificent stream, discovered that series of majestic lakes, whose fertile shores presented inviting homes for countless millions. Her enterprising explorers, in the birch canoe, travelled the solitary windings of the Ohio and the Mississippi."
At the same time the Indians justly claimed right and title to the whole country as the aboriginal inhabitants. Both English and French might purchase it, or portions of it, of them, but in no other way could they gain possession of it without becoming interlopers and robbers. So here was a fine opportunity for trouble. A keen, quick-witted chief, assuming to ridicule the claims of the English and French, sarcastically said to Mr. Gist, a representative of the Virginian Colonists:
"Whereabouts do the Indian lands lie, since the French claim all the land on one side of the Ohio River and the English all on the other?"
Governor Dinwiddie found it necessary to send an ambassador to the French on the Ohio, to inquire into their claims and purposes.
"It is a responsible and perilous undertaking," he said to Mr. Gist. "Who is equal to it?"
"I am sure I cannot tell," Mr. Gist replied. "There ought to be in this famous colony some spirit brave enough to accept the mission, and fully competent to execute it."
"Yes; but who is it?"
"I am unable to answer."
"But we must find him," continued the governor. "The time has fully come for Virginia to defend the rights of Great Britain."
"There can be no doubt about that," replied Mr. Gist; "but who will endure the hardships and risk his life on a mission to the Ohio is more than I can tell."
A writer says of the project: "It was indeed a perilous enterprise; one from which the noblest spirit might recoil. The first garrison which could be reached was on the Ohio River, about one hundred and twenty miles below the point where Pittsburg now stands. Here the French were erecting a strong fortress, to which the Indians resorted for trade. There was an intervening wilderness, from the settlements in Virginia, to be traversed, of pathless forests, gloomy morasses, craggy mountains, and almost impenetrable thickets, of nearly six hundred miles. Bands of savages on the war-path or engaged in the hunt were ever ranging these wilds. Many were exasperated by wrongs which they themselves had received, and of which they had heard, inflicted by the white men. The Indians in all these northwest regions had welcomed the French as brothers, and truly fraternal relationship existed between them; and they had nearly all learned to hate the English.... It would be very easy for the French so to arrange matters, that a band of savages should massacre and plunder the party of the commissioners, in the depths of the forest, under such circumstances that it would necessarily be regarded as merely a savage outrage."
In these circumstances, Governor Dinwiddie found it difficult to secure a responsible party to accept the commission. He offered it to certain men in whom he had great confidence, but all of them declined. At length, however, Major Washington, as we will call George now, waited upon the governor, and surprised him by saying:
"I have come, Governor Dinwiddie, to offer my services as commissioner to Ohio. If you consider me competent for the position, I will accept it, and do the best I can."
"Certainly you are competent for this business," answered the governor, "and you are as brave as you are competent. It is a perilous undertaking, and may cost you your life."
"I understand that," responded the major; "and I have come to this decision after weighing well the difficulties and dangers. My occupation as surveyor has inured me to hardships, and given me some acquaintance with Indian life and character."
"That is true," remarked the governor, who was familiar with young Washington's success in surveying, as well as with his knowledge of military affairs, "and that experience will be of great value on such a mission as this. I will appoint you commissioner at once, with full powers to plan and perform the expedition."