Chapter IX: Anecdotes and Stories

ANECDOTES OF WASHINGTON

Washington's relations with children are most interesting. He always wrote of them as the "little ones."

Through his life he adopted or assumed the expenses of nine of the children of his "kith and kin."

Dumas says that he arrived at Providence with Washington at night. "The whole population had assembled from the suburbs; we were surrounded by a crowd of children carrying torches, all were eager to approach the person of him whom they called their father, and pressed so closely around us that they hindered us from proceeding. General Washington was much affected, stopped a few moments, and, pressing my hand, said, 'We may be beaten by the English, it is the chance of war; but behold an army which they can never conquer.'"

* * * * *

In journeying through New England, Washington spent a night in a private house where all payment was refused. Writing to his host he said: "Being informed that you have given my name to one of your sons, and called another after Mrs. Washington's family, and being, moreover, very much pleased with the modest and innocent looks of your two daughters, Patty and Polly, I do for these reasons send each of these girls a piece of chintz; and to Patty, who bears the name of Mrs. Washington, and who waited upon us more than Polly did, I send five guineas with which she may buy herself any little ornament, or she may dispose of them in any manner more agreeable to herself. As I do not give these things with a view to have it talked of, or even its being known, the less there is said about the matter the better you will please me; but, that I may be sure the chintz and money have got safe to hand, let Patty, who I dare say is equal to it, write me a line informing me thereof, directed to the President of the United States at New York."

* * * * *

Once the General was engaged in earnest consultation with Colonel Pickering until after night had fairly set in. Washington prepared to stay with the colonel over night, provided he had a spare blanket and straw. "Oh yes," said Primus, who was appealed to, "plenty of straw and blankets, plenty."

Two humble beds were spread side by side in the tent and the officers laid themselves down, while Primus seemed to be busy with duties that required his attention before he himself could sleep. He worked, or appeared to work, until the breathing of the prostrate gentlemen satisfied him that they were sleeping, and then seating himself upon a box, he leaned his head upon his hands to obtain such repose as he could.

In the middle of the night Washington awoke. He looked about and descried the negro. He gazed at him awhile and then spoke.

"Primus," said he, "Primus!" Primus started up and rubbed his eyes.

"What, General?" said he. Washington rose up in his bed. "Primus," said he, "what do you mean by saying that you had straw and blankets enough? Here you have given up your blankets and straw to me, that I may sleep comfortably, while you are obliged to sit through the night." "It's nothing, General," said Primus! "It's nothing! I'm well enough! Don't trouble yourself about me, General, but go to sleep again. No matter about me, I sleep very good!" "But it is matter, it is matter," said Washington. "I cannot do it, Primus. If either is to sit up, I will. But I think there is no need of either sitting up. The blanket is wide enough for two. Come and lie down with me."

"Oh no, General!" said Primus, starting and protesting against the proposition. "No, let me sit here." "I say come and lie down here!" said Washington. "There is room for both; I insist upon it."

He threw open the blanket as he spoke, and moved to one side of the straw. Primus professes to have been exceedingly shocked at the idea of lying under the same covering with the commander-in-chief, but his tone was so resolute and determined that he could not hesitate. He prepared himself therefore and laid himself down by Washington; on the same straw under the same blanket, the General and the negro servant slept until morning.

* * * * *

An anecdote characteristic of Washington is related by Professor McVickar, in his narrative of "The Life of Dr. Bard," who attended Washington during a severe illness in 1789.

It was a case of anthrax (carbuncle) so malignant as for several
days to threaten mortification. During this period Dr. Bard never
quitted him. On one occasion being left alone with him, General
Washington, looking steadily in his face, desired his candid
opinion as to the probable termination of his disease, adding with
that placid firmness which marked his address, "Do not flatter me
with vain hopes, I'm not afraid to die, and therefore can bear the
worst." Dr. Bard's answer, though it expressed hope, acknowledged
his apprehensions.

The President replied: "Whether to-night or twenty years hence,
makes no difference; I know that I am in the hands of a good
Providence."

* * * * *

George Washington to his nephew, Bushrod Washington:

Remember, that it is not the mere study of the Law, but to become
eminent in the profession of it, which is to yield honor and
profit.

The first was your choice, let the second be your ambition; that
the company in which you will improve most, will be least expensive
to you; and yet I am not such a stoic as to suppose that you will,
or think it right that you should always be in company with
senators and philosophers; but of the young and the juvenile kind
let me advise you to be choice. It is easy to make acquaintances,
but very difficult to shake them off, however irksome and
unprofitable they are found, after we have once committed ourselves
to them.

* * * * *

While absent from Mount Vernon Washington wrote to his manager:

Although it is last mentioned, it is foremost in my thoughts to
desire you will be particularly attentive to my negroes in their
sickness, and to order every overseer positively to be so likewise;
for I am sorry to observe that the generality of them view these
poor creatures in scarcely any other light than they do a draught
horse or an ox, neglecting them as much when they are unable to
work instead of comforting and nursing them when they lie in a sick
bed.

* * * * *

A part of each day was always set apart for meditation and devotion; nor this in time of peace only, for we are told that one day while the Americans were encamped at Valley Forge, the owner of the house occupied by the General, a Quaker, strolled up the creek, and when not far from his mill, heard a solemn voice. He walked quietly in the direction of it and saw Washington's horse tied to a sapling. In a thicket near by was the chief, upon his knees in prayer, his cheeks suffused with tears.

* * * * *

During the Revolutionary War, General Washington's army was reduced at one time to great straits, and the people were greatly dispirited. One of them who left his home with an anxious heart one day, as he was passing the edge of a wood near the camp, heard the sound of a voice. He stopped to listen, and looking between the trunks of the large trees he saw General Washington engaged in prayer. He passed quietly on, that he might not disturb him; and on returning home, told his family, "America will prevail," and then related what he had heard and seen.

* * * * *

THE ABUSE OF WASHINGTON

BY THOMAS WENTWORTH HIGGINSON

On the last day in office Washington wrote to Knox comparing himself to "the weary traveler who sees a resting-place, and is bending his body to lean thereon. To be suffered to do this in peace," he added, "is too much to be endured by some." Accordingly on that very day a Philadelphia newspaper dismissed him with a final tirade, worth remembering by all who think that political virulence is on the increase:

"Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes
have seen thy salvation" was the exclamation of a man who saw a
flood of blessedness breaking in upon mankind. If ever there was a
time that allowed this exclamation to be repeated, that time is the
present. The man who is the source of all our country's misery is
this day reduced to the rank of his fellow-citizens, and has no
longer the power to multiply the woes of these United States. Now
more than ever is the time to rejoice. Every heart which feels for
the liberty, and the happiness of the people must now beat with
rapture at the thought that this day the name of Washington ceases
to give currency to injustice and to legalize corruption.... When
we look back upon the eight years of Washington's administration,
it strikes us with astonishment that one man could thus poison the
principles of republicanism among our enlightened people, and carry
his designs against the public liberty so far as to endanger its
very existence. Yet such is the fact, and if this is apparent to
all, this day they should form a jubilee in the United States.

* * * * *

PROVIDENTIAL EVENTS IN THE LIFE OF WASHINGTON

BY IRVING ALLEN

From _The Independent_

At this season of the anniversary of Washington's birth, it seems especially appropriate to recall certain singular circumstances in the life of the greatest of Americans--events remarkable in themselves in whatever light they may be viewed; whether, in accordance with the tenets of modern Spiritism and, to a certain extent, in harmony with the doctrines of Swedenborg and his followers in human affairs of departed spirits; or if, on the other hand, we adopt the simple teachings of the Sacred Scriptures, and acknowledge the truth with men and their affairs.

Authentic history records no less than six marvelous instances in which the life of Washington was saved under circumstances seemingly little less than miraculous. The first of these wonderful escapes from impending peril occurred during the period of Washington's sole recorded absence from the American continent--when he accompanied his brother Lawrence, then fatally ill with consumption, to the Barbadoes.

_Smallpox_

They sailed in September of 1751, George being then in the twentieth year of his age. Before the brothers had been a fortnight in the island the younger, the future hero of the Revolution, was attacked with smallpox in its "natural" and virulent form. This disease was not then the fangless monster with which we are familiar, but was terrific in its assaults and almost invariably fatal; yet Washington recovered in something less than three weeks, and retained through his life but slight marks of the malady.

One of General Washington's biographers well says, in reference to this incident, in the life of the first President, that, "it may well be doubted whether in any of his battles he was in equal danger. If the disease entered an army, it was a foe more to be dreaded than embattled hosts.... But it belongs to that class of diseases of which, by a mysterious law of our nature, our frames are, generally speaking, susceptible but once.... Thus it came to pass, that, in the morning of his days, Washington became (humanly speaking) safe from all future danger from this formidable disease."

The reader of American history will remember that the smallpox appeared among the British troops in Boston in the fall of 1775; that it ravaged our army in Canada in the following spring; that it prevailed the same year at Ticonderoga, and in 1777 at Morristown. Regarding this last occasion of its appearance, Washington said, in a letter to Governor Henry, of Virginia, where vaccination was not permitted:

You will pardon my observation on smallpox because I know it is
more destructive to the army than the enemies' sword and because I
shudder whenever I reflect upon the difficulties of keeping it out.

This was the tremendous peril from which Washington was comparatively safe after his twentieth year. "If," says a very eminent writer, "to refer this to an overruling Providence be a superstition, I desire to be accounted superstitious."

_The Journey to Venango_, 1753

The next imminent danger to which Washington was exposed, and from which his escape was well-nigh miraculous, was on the occasion of his historic expedition to the headquarters of the French Governor at Venango, in 1753. The journey itself, in the winter season, of five or six hundred miles through an unsettled country, most of it constantly traveled by natives at enmity with the English, was one continued story of danger and escape. It was but two years after this trip of Washington's to Venango that English soldiers--surrendered prisoners of war--were tortured to death by the savage natives within sight of Fort Duquesne. On his return from the fulfillment of his mission, Washington traversed the forest with a single companion and an Indian guide. Just at nightfall, on one of the days of their perilous journey, their savage attendant suddenly turned, and at a distance of but fifteen paces fired on Washington, happily without evil result.

After this alarming experience the two companions pursued their way alone, footsore and weary, through the woods, with the sure knowledge that the savages were on their trail. Reaching the Alleghany River on a night of December, they found it encumbered with drifting ice, and only to be crossed by means of a raft which, with only "one poor hatchet," cost them an entire day's labor to construct. When crossing the river, Washington, while using the setting pole, was thrown violently into the water at a depth of ten feet, and saved his life by grasping a log. They spent the night, in their frozen clothing, on a little island on which, had they been forced to stay till sunrise, they would, beyond question, have fallen into the hands of the Indians; but the intense cold which froze the feet of Washington's companion, also sealed the river and enabled them to escape on the ice.

_Another Mission_

The year following the mission to Venango (1754) Colonel Washington was sent in command of a small force in the same direction; but by reason of the greatly superior strength of the enemy, the expedition resulted in a calamitous retreat. By a singular coincidence, the compulsory evacuation of the English stronghold--"Fort Necessity," as it was called--occurred on the _Fourth of July_, 1754--a date afterward made forever glorious in great measure by the inestimable services of the young commander of this earlier and ill-fated military expedition. But such were the ability, energy, and power evinced by its youthful commander, that the disaster resulted in his own greatly enhanced reputation as a born leader of men.

_Braddock and Washington_

In the following year (1755) a gigantic effort was made by England to recover lost ground, and to repair the military misadventures of 1754. The history of Braddock's disastrous expedition is familiar to every schoolboy in the land. At this period, Colonel Washington had retired from the army in disgust at the unjust regulations which gave undue preference to officers holding commissions from the Crown over abler men--some of them their seniors of the same rank--in the service of the provinces. He was, however, at length induced--in great measure from motives of the purest patriotism, and partly, no doubt, from his strong leaning toward a military career--to accept a position on the staff of the commanding General, Braddock, a soldier of courage and large experience, but, as events afterward proved, a haughty, self-willed, and passionate man.

During the passage of Braddock's forces through the Alleghany Mountains, Washington was attacked by so violent and alarming a sickness that its result was for a time extremely uncertain; on his partial recovery the General caused him to move with the heavy artillery and baggage. In this position Washington remained two weeks, returning to the General's headquarters on the eighth of July, the day preceding the fatal battle of the Monongahela.

On the morning of this day--forever and sadly memorable in American annals--Washington mounted his horse, weak and worn by sickness, but strong in hope and courage. These are his own words uttered in other and better days:

The most beautiful spectacle I had ever beheld was the display of
the British troops on that eventful morning.... The sun gleamed
from their burnished arms, the river flowed tranquilly on their
right, and the deep forest overshadowed them with solemn grandeur
on the left.

_Braddock's Defeat_

It is needless to repeat here the tale of that day of defeat and slaughter. Historians have recorded its events, and poets have sung its story. Throughout the action Washington was in the thickest of the fight. "I expected every moment to see him fall," wrote Dr. Craik, his physician and friend. It was during this disastrous battle that Washington escaped perhaps the most imminent peril of his life. In company with Dr. Craik, in the year 1770, he descended the Ohio River on a journey of observation to the Great Kanawha, and it was there that an incident occurred, which is thus described by Irving:

Here Washington was visited by an old sachem, who approached him
with great reverence and addressed him through Nicholson, the
interpreter. He had come, he said, a great distance to see him. On
further discourse, the sachem made known that he was one of the
warriors in the service of the French, who lay in ambush on the
banks of the Monongahela, and wrought such havoc to Braddock's
army. He declared that he and his young men had singled out
Washington, as he made himself conspicuous riding about the field
of battle with the General's orders, and fired at him repeatedly,
but without success; whence they concluded that he was under the
protection of the Great Spirit, that he had a charmed life, and
could not be slain in battle.

Washington himself wrote thus to his brother:

By all the powerful dispensations of Providence, I have been
protected beyond all human probability and expectations; for I had
four bullets through my coat and two horses shot under me; yet I
escaped unhurt, although death was leveling my companions on every
side.

His marvelous preservation was the subject of general remark; Mr. Davies, later President of Princeton College, used these words in an address a few weeks after the Braddock defeat:

That heroic youth, Colonel Washington, whom I cannot but hope
Providence has hitherto preserved in so signal a manner for some
important service to his country.

_Escape from a Marriage_

The next apparently providential intervention in the affairs of the hero of the Revolution is connected with very different scenes from those of battle and carnage; it may, perhaps, be fairly described as a narrow escape from a marriage which, while it might have proved a happy alliance in so far as Washington himself was concerned, would almost certainly have resulted in the loss of his inestimable services to his country.

Washington's attachment to Mary Philipse is a fact beyond reasonable question; his offer of marriage to that young lady is somewhat traditional. It is certain, however, that during his necessary absence on military duty, Captain Morris, his associate aide-de-camp in the Monongahela engagement, became a successful suitor for the hand of Miss Philipse.

What is far less generally known is the fact that, had Washington been successful in his early matrimonial aspirations, he would certainly have remained a loyal adherent of the royal cause, and would thus have been lost to his native land. Evidences of the justice of this theory are by no means lacking. The relatives and friends of the lady were nearly all devoted to the cause of England; Washington was the associate of many of them; and Captain Morris, his successful rival, remained in the British service during his life. There can be, I think, little doubt that, in the event of his marriage with Miss Philipse, Washington, like Captain Morris, would have returned to England and been forever lost to America. Mrs. Morris survived her illustrious admirer twenty-five years, dying about the year 1825.

_Washington Unrewarded_

A striking historical fact,--as strange as it is authentic--is the treatment of Washington by the English Government after the death of Braddock. Had General Braddock survived his terrible misfortune the result might well have been very different; for it is matter of history that the youthful officer had the undivided confidence of his commander. But by the British Ministry, and even by the King himself, the young hero of the fatal battle was treated with scarcely disguised contempt and neglect.

In a letter to the British War Minister, Governor Dinwiddie speaks of Colonel Washington as a man of great merit and resolution, adding:

I am confident, that, if General Braddock had lived, he would have
recommended him to the royal favor, which I beg your interest in
recommending.

The sole results were a half-rebuke from the King, and a malicious fling from the lips of Horace Walpole. For more than three years Washington labored incessantly, by personal effort and by means of influential intercessors, to secure a royal commission.

In view of what the world knows now of Washington's well-nigh matchless ability as a soldier, and remembering especially the reputation he had already acquired--amazing in so youthful an officer--his persistent neglect by the military authorities "at home," and particularly the stubborn and doltish determination on the part of the King to ignore the man and his almost unexampled services, suggests the theory that the heart of King George, of England, was as truly and providentially "hardened" as was that of his royal prototype, Pharaoh, of ancient times. For, finding that all his efforts were ineffectual and believing that the chief object of the war was attained by the capture of Fort Duquesne, and the final defeat of the French on the Ohio, the young hero retired after five years of arduous and ill-requited service, in the words of a great writer of our own land and time:

The youthful idol of his countrymen, but without so much as a civil
word from the fountain of honor. And so, when after seventeen years
of private life he next appeared in arms, it was as the
"Commander-in-Chief of the Army of the United Colonies, and of all
the forces now raised, or to be raised by them."

The same writer elsewhere remarks:

Such was the policy by which the Horse Guards occasionally saved a
Major's commission for a fourth son of a Duke, by which the Crown
lost a continent; and the people of the United States gained a
place in the family of nations. The voice of history cries aloud to
powerful Governments, in the administration of their colonies:
"Discite justitiam moniti."

_A Furious Conflict_

The last of the six marvelous escapes of our hero from impending and fatal disaster occurred during the historic night march of Washington and the American Army on Princeton, where, on the third of January, 1776, he compassed the entire destruction of one regiment of the enemy, and captured or forced to ignoble retreat two others. This battle was the subject of one of Colonel Trumbull's most famous paintings; and it was during this engagement--as Washington himself told the illustrious artist--that he was in greater peril than even at the time of Braddock's defeat.

In the height of the battle the two armies were for a brief season in furious conflict, and Washington between them within range of both fires. Washington Irving writes:

His Aide, Colonel Fitzgerald, losing sight of him in the heat of
the fight when enveloped in smoke and dust, dropped the bridle on
the neck of his horse and drew his hat over his eyes, giving him up
for lost. When he saw him, however, emerging from the cloud, waving
his hat, and beheld the enemy giving way, he spurred up to his
side: "Thank God," cried he, "your Excellency is safe!" "Away, my
dear Colonel, and bring up the troops," was Washington's reply;
"the day is our own."

Trumbull's immortal picture shows us the hero of that decisive battle standing on the memorable day of Princeton by the side of his white war-horse. Says an eloquent writer:

Well might he exult in the event of the day, for it was the last of
a series of bold and skilful manoeuvres and successful actions, by
which, in three weeks, he had rescued Philadelphia, driven the
enemy from the banks of the Delaware, recovered the State of New
Jersey, and, at the close of a disastrous campaign, restored hope
and confidence to the country.

Such are the six memorable events which it well becomes the American people to recall with devout gratitude and awe, realizing anew the Providence that watches alike over human beings and the affairs of nations, and recognizing the solemn truth that ever, as, signally, in those times that tried the souls of men,

"God fulfills Himself in many ways."

* * * * *

CHARACTERISTICS OF WASHINGTON

_Von Braam and Washington_

Washington began to be a soldier in his boyhood. During the British campaign against the West Indies, Lawrence Washington, George's half-brother, made the acquaintance of a Dutchman, named Jacob von Braam, who afterwards came to Virginia. These young men were great heroes to the ten-year-old George. Von Braam took the lad in hand and began his military education. He drilled him in the manual of arms and sword exercise, and taught him fortification and engineering. All the theory of war which Washington knew was gained from von Braam; the practice he was soon to gain in the field.

_Washington's Athletic Skill_

Many stories are told which show Washington's athletic skill. During a surveying expedition he first visited the Natural Bridge, in Virginia. Standing almost directly under it, he tossed a stone on top, a distance of about two hundred feet. He scaled the rocks and carved his name far above all others. He was said to be the only man who could throw a stone across the Potomac River. Washington was never more at home than when in the saddle. "The general is a very excellent and bold horseman," wrote a contemporary, "leaping the highest fences and going extremely quick, without standing on his stirrups, bearing on his bridle, or letting his horse run wild."

After his first battle Washington wrote to his brother, "I heard the bullets whistle about me, and, believe me, there is something charming in the sound." But years after, when he had learned all there was to know of the horrors of war, he said, sadly, "I said that when I was young."

_Punctuality_

Punctuality was one of Washington's strong points. When company was invited to dinner, he made an allowance of only five minutes for variation in watches. If the guests came late he would say: "We are too punctual for you. I have a cook who does not ask if the company has come, but if the hour has come."

In a letter to a friend he wrote: "I begin my diurnal course with the sun; if my hirelings are not in their places by that time I send them messages of sorrow for their indisposition."

A letter to his sister, Betty, shows his businesslike manner: "If your son Howell is with you and not usefully employed in your own affairs, and should incline to spend a few months with me in my office as a writer (if he is fit for it), I will allow him at the rate of 300 a year, provided he is diligent in discharging the duties of it from breakfast till dinnertime.... I am particular in declaring beforehand what I require, so that there may be no disappointment or false expectations on either side."

_His Stepchildren_

Washington's relations with his stepchildren show a very pleasant side of his character. We find him ordering from London such articles as "10 shillings' worth of toys, 6 little books for children beginning to read, 1 fashionable-dressed baby to cost 10 shillings, and a box of gingerbread toys and sugar images, or comfits." Later he sent for "1 very good spinet," for Patsey, as Martha Parke Custis was called.

His niece, Hariot, who lived in the Washington home from 1785 to 1796, was a great trial to him. "She has," he wrote, "no disposition to be careful of her clothes, which she dabs about in every hole and corner, and her best things always in use, so that she costs me enough."

One of the characteristics of a truly great man is his readiness to ask pardon. Once when Nelly Custis, Mrs. Washington's granddaughter, was severely reprimanded for walking alone by moonlight in the grounds of Mount Vernon, Washington tried to intercede for the girl.

"Perhaps she was not alone; I would say no more," he said.

"Sir," said Nelly Custis, "you have brought me up to speak the truth, and when I told grandmamma that I was alone, I hoped that you would believe me."

"My child," said Washington, bowing in his courtly fashion, "I beg your pardon."

_His Temper_

Stuart, the portrait painter, once said to General Lee that Washington had a tremendous temper, but that he had it under wonderful control. While dining with the Washingtons, General Lee repeated the first part of Stuart's remark. Mrs. Washington flushed and said that Mr. Stuart took a great deal upon himself. Then General Lee said that Mr. Stuart had added that the President had his temper under wonderful control. Washington seemed to be thinking for a moment, then he smiled and said, "Mr. Stuart is right."

_His Smile_

The popular idea that Washington never laughed is well-nigh exploded. Nelly Custis said, "I have sometimes made him laugh most heartily from sympathy with my joyous and extravagant spirits."

When the news came from Dr. Franklin in France that help was promised from that country, General Washington broke into a laugh, waved his cocked hat, and said to his officers, "The day is ours!" Another story is to the effect that while present at the baptism of a child of a Mr. Wood, he was so surprised to hear the name given as George Washington that he smiled. Senator Maclay tells of his smiling at a state dinner, and even toying with his fork. Various sources testify that a smile lent an unusual beauty to his face.

At one time, as Washington entered a shop in New York, a Scotch nursemaid followed him, carrying her infant charge. "Please, sir, here's a bairn was named after you."

"What is his name?" asked the President.

"Washington Irving, sir."

Washington put his hand upon the child's head and gave him his blessing, little thinking that "the bairn" would write, as a labor of love, a life of Washington.

While at his Newburgh headquarters the General was approached by Aaron Burr, who stealthily crept up as he was writing, and looked over his shoulder. Although Washington did not hear the footfall, he saw the shadow in the mirror. He looked up, and said only, "Mr. Burr!" But the tone was enough to make Burr quail and beat a hasty retreat.

A man who, well for himself, is nameless, made a wager with some friends that he could approach Washington familiarly. The President was walking up Chestnut Street, in Philadelphia, when the would-be wag, in full view of his companions, slapped him on the back and said, "Well, old fellow, how are you this morning?" Washington looked at him, and in a freezing tone asked, "Sir, what have I ever said or done which induces you to treat me in this manner?"

_Thoughtfulness_

After Washington's retirement from the Presidency, Elkanah Watson was a guest at Mount Vernon. He had a serious cold, and after he retired he coughed severely. Suddenly the curtains of his bed were drawn aside, and there stood Washington with a huge bowl of steaming herb tea. "Drink this," he said, "it will be good for that cough."

Washington possessed in a peculiar degree the great gift of remembering faces. Once, while visiting in Newburyport, he saw at work in the grounds of his host an old servant whom he had not seen since the French and Indian war, thirty years before. He knew the man at once, and stopped and spoke kindly to him.

_Modesty_

Any collection of anecdotes about Washington is sure to refer to his extreme modesty. Upon one occasion, when the speaker of the Assembly returned thanks in glowing terms to Colonel Washington for his services, he rose to express his acknowledgments, but he was so embarrassed that he could not articulate a word. "Sit down, Mr. Washington," said the speaker, "your modesty equals your valor, and that surpasses the power of any language which I possess."

When Adams suggested that Congress should appoint a general, and hinted plainly at Washington, who happened to sit near the door, the latter rose, "and, with his usual modesty, darted into the library room."

Washington's favorite quotation was Addison's "'Tis not in mortals to command success," but he frequently quoted Shakespeare.

_Taste for Literature_

His taste for literature is indicated by the list of books which he ordered for his library at the close of the war: "Life of Charles the Twelfth," "Life of Louis the Fifteenth," "Life and Reign of Peter the Great," Robertson's "History of America," "Voltaire's Letters," Vertol's "Revolution of Rome," "Revolution of Portugal," Goldsmith's "Natural History," "Campaigns of Marshal Turenne," Chambaud's "French and English Dictionary," Locke "On the Human Understanding," and Robertson's "Charles the Fifth." "Light reading," he wrote to his step-grandson, "(by this I mean books of little importance) may amuse for the moment, but leaves nothing behind."

_His Dress_

Although always very particular about his dress, Washington was no dandy, as some have supposed. "Do not," he wrote to his nephew in 1783, "conceive that fine clothes make fine men any more than fine feathers make fine birds. A plain, genteel dress is more admired and obtains more credit than lace or embroidery in the eyes of the judicious and sensible."

Sullivan thus describes Washington at a levee: "He was dressed in black velvet, his hair full dress, powdered, and gathered behind in a large silk bag, yellow gloves on his hands; holding a cocked hat, with a cockade in it, and the edges adorned with a black feather about an inch deep. He wore knee and shoe buckles, and a long sword.... The scabbard was of white polished leather."

After Cornwallis's surrender at Yorktown, Washington said to his army: "My brave fellows, let no sensation of satisfaction for the triumphs you have gained induce you to insult your fallen enemy. Let no shouting, no clamorous huzzaing increase their mortification. It is sufficient for us that we witness their humiliation. Posterity will huzza for us."

While there are many stories which show Washington's straightforwardness, here is one which shows much diplomacy. He was asked by Volney, a Frenchman and a revolutionist, for a letter of recommendation to the American people. This request put him in an awkward position, for there were good reasons why he could not give it, and other good reasons why he did not wish to refuse. Taking a sheet of paper, he wrote:

C. Volney needs no recommendation from

Geo. Washington.

* * * * *

GREAT GEORGE WASHINGTON[25]

BY KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN AND NORA A. SMITH

All this time while George Washington had been growing up,--first a little boy, then a larger boy, and then a young surveyor,--all this time the French and English and Indians were unhappy and uncomfortable in the country north of Virginia. The French wanted all the land, so did the English, and the Indians saw that there would be no room for them, whichever had it, so they all began to trouble each other, and to quarrel and fight.

These troubles grew so bad at last that the Virginians began to be afraid of the French and Indians, and thought they must have some soldiers of their own ready to fight.

George Washington was only nineteen then, but everybody knew he was wise and brave, so they chose him to teach the soldiers near his home how to march and to fight.

Then the king and the people of England grew very uneasy at all this quarreling, and they sent over soldiers and cannon and powder, and commenced to get ready to fight in earnest. Washington was made a major, and he had to go a thousand miles, in the middle of winter, into the Indian and French country, to see the chiefs and the soldiers, and find out about the troubles.

When he came back again, all the people were so pleased with his courage and with the wise way in which he had behaved, that they made him lieutenant-colonel.

Then began a long war between the French and the English, which lasted seven years. Washington fought through all of it, and was made a colonel, and by and by commander of all the soldiers in Virginia. He built forts and roads, he gained and lost battles, he fought the Indians and the French; and by all this trouble and hard work he learned to be a great soldier.

In many of the battles of this war, Washington and the Virginians did not wear a uniform, like the English soldiers, but a buckskin shirt and fringed leggings, like the Indians.

From beginning to end of some of the battles, Washington rode about among the men, telling them where to go and how to fight; the bullets were whistling around him all the time, but he said he liked the music.

By and by the war was over; the French were driven back to their own part of the country, and Washington went home to Mount Vernon to rest, and took with him his wife, lovely Martha Washington, whom he had met and married while he was fighting the French and Indians.

While he was at Mount Vernon he saw all his horses again,--"Valiant" and "Magnolia" and "Chinkling" and "Ajax,"--and had grand gallops over the country.

He had some fine dogs, too, to run by his side, and help him hunt the bushy-tailed foxes. "Vulcan" and "Ringwood" and "Music" and "Sweetlips" were the names of some of them. You may be sure the dogs were glad when they had their master home again.

But Washington did not have long to rest, for another war was coming, the great war of the Revolution.

Little children cannot understand all the reasons for this war, but I can tell you some of them.

You remember in the story of Thanksgiving I told you about the Pilgrim fathers, who came from England to this country because their king would not let them pray to God as they liked. That king was dead now, and there was another in his place, a king with the name of George, like our Washington.

Now our great-grandfathers had always loved England and Englishmen, because many of their friends were still living there, and because it was their old home.

The king gave them governors to help take care of their people, and soldiers to fight for them, and they sent to England for many things to wear and to eat.

But just before this Revolutionary War, the king and the great men who helped him began to say that things should be done in this country that our people did not think right at all. The king said they must buy expensive stamps to put on all their newspapers and almanacs and lawyer's papers, and that they must pay very high taxes on their tea and paper and glass, and he sent soldiers to see that this was done.

This made our great-grandfathers very angry. They refused to pay the taxes, they would not buy anything from England any more, and some men even went on board the ships, as they came into Boston Harbor, and threw the tea over into the water.

So fifty-one men were chosen from all over the country, and they met at Philadelphia, to see what could be done. Washington was sent from Virginia. And after they had talked very solemnly, they all thought there would be great trouble soon, and Washington went home to drill the soldiers.

Then the war began with the battle of Lexington, in New England, and soon Washington was made commander-in-chief of the armies.

He rode the whole distance from Philadelphia to Boston on horseback, with a troop of officers; and all the people on the way came to see him, bringing bands of music and cheering him as he went by. He rode into camp in the morning. The soldiers were drawn up in the road, and men and women and children who had come to look at Washington were crowded all about. They saw a tall, splendid, handsome man in a blue coat with buff facings, and epaulets on his shoulders. As he took off his hat, drew his shining sword, and raised it in sight of all the people, the cannon began to thunder, and all the people hurrahed and tossed their hats in the air.

Of course, he looked very splendid, and they all knew how brave he was, and thought he would soon put an end to the war.

But it did not happen as they expected, for this was only the beginning, and the war lasted seven long years.

Fighting is always hard, even if you have plenty of soldiers and plenty for them to eat; but Washington had very few soldiers, and very little powder for the guns, and little food for the men to eat.

The soldiers were not in uniform, as ours are to-day; but each was dressed just as he happened to come from his shop or his farm.

Washington ordered hunting shirts for them, such as he wore when he went to fight the Indians, for he knew they would look more like soldiers if all were dressed alike.

Of course many people thought that our men would be beaten, as the war went on; but Washington never thought so, for he was sure our side was right.

I hardly know what he would have done, at last, if the French people had not promised to come over and help us, and to send us money and men and ships. All the people in the army thanked God when they heard it, and fired their guns for joy.

A brave young man named Lafayette came with the French soldiers, and he grew to be Washington's great friend, and fought for us all through the Revolution.

Many battles were fought in this war, and Washington lost some of them, and a great many of his men were killed.

You could hardly understand how much trouble he had. In the winter, when the snow was deep on the ground, he had no houses or huts for his men to sleep in; his soldiers were ragged and cold by day, and had not blankets enough to keep them warm by night; their shoes were old and worn, and they had to wrap cloths around their feet to keep them from freezing.

When they marched to the Delaware River, one cold Christmas night, a soldier who was sent after them, with a message for Washington, traced them by their footprints on the snow, all reddened with the blood from their poor cut feet.

They must have been very brave and patient to have fought at all, when they were so cold and ragged and hungry.

Washington suffered a great deal in seeing his soldiers so wretched, and I am sure that with all his strength and courage, he would sometimes have given up hope, if he had not talked and prayed to God a great deal, and asked Him to help him.

In one of the hardest times of the whole war, Washington was staying at a farmer's house. One morning he rode out very early to visit the soldiers. The farmer went into the fields soon after, and as he was passing a brook where a great many bushes were growing, he heard a deep voice from the thicket. He looked through the leaves, and saw Washington on his knees, on the ground, praying to God for his soldiers. He had fastened his horse to a tree, and come away by himself to ask God to help them.

At last the war came to an end; the English were beaten, and our armies sent up praise and thanks to God.

Then the soldiers went quietly back to their homes, and Washington bade all his officers good-by, and thanked them for their help and their courage.

The little room in New York where he said farewell is kept to show to visitors now, and you can see it some day yourselves.

Then Washington went home to Mount Vernon to rest; but before he had been there long, the people found out that they must have someone to help take care of them, as they had nothing to do with the king of England any more; and they asked Washington to come and be the first President of the United States.

So he did as they wished, and was as wise and good, and as careful and fine a President as he had been surveyor, soldier, and general.

You know we always call Washington the Father of his Country, because he did so much for us, and helped to make the United States so great.

After he died, there were parks and mountains and villages and towns and cities named for him all over the land, because people loved him so, and prized so highly what he had done for them.

In the city of Washington there is a building where you can see many of the things that belonged to the first President, when he was alive. There is his soldier's coat, his sword, and in an old camp chest are the plates and knives and forks that he used in the Revolution.

There is a tall, splendid monument of shining gray stone in that city, that towers far, far, above all the highest roofs and spires. It was built in memory of George Washington by the people of the United States, to show that they loved and would always remember the Father of his Country.

FOOTNOTES:

[25] From "The Story Hour" by Kate Douglas Wiggin and Nora A. Smith. Houghton, Mifflin & Co., publishers.

* * * * *

HEADQUARTERS IN 1776[26]

BY PAUL LEICESTER FORD

On September 15, a group of horsemen, occupying a slight eminence of ground on the island of Manhattan, were gazing eastward. Below and nearer the water were spread lines of soldiers behind intrenchments, while from three men-of-war lying in the river came a heavy cannonade that swept the shore line and spread over the water a pall of smoke which, as it drifted to leeward, obscured the Long Island shore from view.

"'Tis evidently a feint, your Excellency," presently asserted one of the observers, "to cover a genuine attack elsewhere--most likely above the Haarlem."

The person addressed--a man with an anxious, care-worn face that made him look fifty at least--lowered his glass, but did not reply for some moments. "You may be right, sir," he remarked, "though to me it has the air of an intended attack. What think you, Reed?"

"I agree with Mifflin. The attack will be higher up. Hah! Look there!"

A rift had come in the smoke, and a column of boats, moving with well-timed oars, could for a moment be seen as it came forward.

"They intend a landing at Kip's Bay, as I surmised," exclaimed the general. "Gentlemen, we shall be needed below." He turned to Reed and gave him an order concerning reinforcements, then wheeled, and, followed by the rest, trotted over the plowed field. Once on the highway, he spurred his horse, putting him to a sharp canter.

"What troops hold the works on the bay, Mifflin?" asked one of the riders.

"Fellows' and Parsons' brigades, Brereton."

"If they are as good at fighting as at thieving, they'll distinguish themselves."

"Ay," laughed Mifflin. "If the red coats were but chickens or cattle, the New England militia would have had them all captured ere now."

"They'll be heard from to-day," said a third officer. "They've earthworks to git behind, and they'll give the British anuther Bunker Hill."

"Then you ought to be quick, General Putnam," said Brereton, "for that's the fighting you like."

The road lay in the hollow of the land, and not till the party reached a slight rise were they able once more to get a glimpse of the shores of the bay. Then it was to find the flotilla well in toward its intended landing-place, and the American troops retreating in great disorder from their breastworks.

Exclamations of surprise and dismay sprang from the lips of the riders, and their leader, turning his horse, jumped the fence and galloped across the fields to intercept the fugitives. Five minutes brought them up to the runaways, who, out of breath with the sharpness of their race, had come to a halt, and were being formed by their officers into a little less disorder.

"General Fellows, what was the reason for this shameful retreat?" demanded the general, when within speaking distance.

"The men were seized with a panic on the approach of the boats, your Excellency, and could not be held in the lines."

Washington faced the regiments, his face blazing with scorn. "You ran before a shot had been fired! Before you lost a man, you deserted works that have taken weeks to build, and which could be held against any such force." He paused for a moment, and then, drawing his sword, called with spirit: "Who's for recovering them?"

A faint cheer passed down the lines; but almost as it sounded, the red coats of fifty or sixty light infantry came into view on the road, a skirmishing party thrown forward from the landing to reconnoiter. Had they been Howe's whole army, however, they could not have proved more effective, for instantly the two brigades broke and dissolved once more into squads of flying men.

At such cowardice, Washington lost all control of himself, and, dashing in among the fugitives, he passionately struck right and left with the flat of his sword, thundering curses at them; while Putnam and Mifflin, as well as the aides, followed his example. It was hopeless, however, to stay the rush; the men took the blows and the curses unheeding, while throwing away their guns and scattering in every direction.

Made frantic by such conduct, Washington wheeled his horse. "Charge!" he cried, and rode toward the enemy, waving his sword.

If the commander-in-chief had hoped to put some of his own courage into the troops by his example, he failed. Not a man of the runaways ceased fleeing. None the less, as if regardless of consequences in his desperation, Washington rode on, until one of the aides dashed his spurs into his horse and came up beside his general at a mad gallop.

"Your Excellency!" he cried, "'tis but hopeless, and will but end in--" Then, as his superior did not heed him, he seized the left rein of his horse's bridle, and, pulling on it, swung him about in a large circle, letting go his hold only when they were riding away from the enemy.

Washington offered no resistance, and rode the hundred yards to where the rest of his staff were standing, with bowed head. Nothing was said as he rejoined the group, and Blueskin, disappointed in the charge for which he had shown as much eagerness as his rider, let his mind recur to thoughts of oats; finding no control in the hand that held his bridle, he set out at an easy trot toward headquarters.

They had not ridden many yards ere Washington lifted his head, the expression of hopelessness, which had taken the place of that of animation, in turn succeeded by one of stern repose. He issued three orders to as many of the riders, showing that his mind had not been dwelling idly on the disaster, slipped his sword into its scabbard, and gathered up his reins again.

"There!" thought Blueskin, as a new direction was indicated by his bit, "I'm going to have another spell of it riding all ways of a Sunday, just as we did last night. And it's coming on to rain."

Rain it did very quickly; but from post to post the horsemen passed, the sternly silent commander speaking only when giving the necessary orders to remedy so far as possible the disaster of the afternoon. Not till eleven, and then in a thoroughly drenched condition, did they reach the Morris House on Haarlem Heights. It was to no rest, however, that the general arrived; for, as he dismounted, Major Gibbs of his life guards informed him that the council of war he had called was gathered, and only awaited his attendance.

"Get you some supper, gentlemen," he ordered, to such of his aides as were still of the party, "for 'tis likely that you will have more riding when the council have deliberated."

"'Tis advice he might take himself to proper advantage," said one of the juniors, while they were stripping off their wet coverings in a side room.

"Ay," asserted Brereton. "The general uses us hard, Tilghman, but he uses himself harder." Then aloud he called, "Billy!"

"Yis, sah!"

"Make a glass of rum punch and take it in to his Excellency."

"Foh de Lord, sah, I doan dar go in, an' yar know marse neber drink no spirits till de day's work dun."

"Make a dish of tea, then, you old coward, and I'll take it to him so soon as I get these slops off me. 'Fore George! How small-clothes stick when they're wet!"

The make-shift meal was still unfinished when the general's body-servant appeared with the tea. Taking it, Brereton marched boldly to the council door, and, giving a knock, he went in without awaiting a reply.

The group of anxious-faced men about the table looked up, and Washington, with a frown, demanded, "For what do you interrupt us, sir?"

The young officer put the tea down on the map lying in front of the general. "Billy didn't dare take this to your Excellency, so I made bold to e'en bring it myself."

"This is no time for tea, Colonel Brereton."

"'Tis no time for the army to lose their general," replied the aide. "I pray you drink it, sir, for our sake, if you won't for your own."

A kindly look supplanted the sternness of the previous moment on the general's face. "I thank you for your thoughtfulness, Brereton," he said, raising the cup and pouring some of the steaming drink into the saucer.

FOOTNOTES:

[26] From "Janice Meredith." Dodd, Mead & Co.