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THE HEART OF WASHINGTON 
 
THE 
 HEART OF WASHINGTON 
 
 An Intimate Study of the Father of His 
 
 Country from the Personal 
 
 Human Side 
 
 By 
 
 WAYNE WHIPPLE 
 
 Author of " The Story Life of Washington ' 
 " The Heart of Lincoln," etc. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 
 GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
THE HEART OF WASHINGTON 
 
 COPYRIGHT. 1916, BY GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY. 
 PUBLISHED OCTOBER, 1916 
 
 ETdiz 
 
 ■ 17 
 .0051 
 
 All rights reserved 
 Prin^^ in U. S. A. 
 
 OP 
 
 ©CI,A4a6082 
 
THE PETRIFIED GIANT OF 
 AMERICAN HISTORY 
 
 A little boy, on being held up to 
 see President Washington, exclaimed: 
 "Why, he's only a man!" 
 
 Washington, hearing this, smiled at 
 the child and said, "Yes, dear, that is 
 all." 
 
 Those who knew George Washing- 
 ton loved him very much as Lincoln's 
 friends loved him, but Washington did 
 not tell funny stories and his closest 
 friends stood in aw^e of him. Yet 
 Washington loved to laugh — often till 
 the tears rolled down his face — once at 
 least during his terrible experience at 
 Valley Forge. He was fond of prac- 
 tical jokes — his cleverest strategic ruses 
 5 
 
THE PEfklFIED GIANT 
 
 were merely huge jests. He cracked 
 a joke with General Knox while cross- 
 ing the Delaware through that bitter 
 Christmas night with the temperature 
 below zero. 
 
 He laughed so heartily over a face- 
 tious story that he fell back in a help- 
 less heap in a rowboat on the Hudson, 
 and once at Mount Vernon, he threw 
 himself down and rolled on the grass, 
 choking in a spasm of merriment. 
 
 And he could weep, too! No great 
 general in history was seen to cry so 
 much as Washington — wringing his 
 immense hands (Lafayette said he 
 never saw such large hands on a human 
 being) , sobbing in helpless anguish — as 
 at the loss of Fort Washington, while 
 he was looking across the river through 
 a spy-glass, watching the British with 
 bayonets stabbing and killing his be- 
 loved soldiers. 
 
 6 
 
THE PETRIFIED GIANT 
 
 He was seen several times in a tower- 
 ing rage at the sight of treachery or 
 rank injustice. Then, with white face 
 and blazing eye, he would call upon 
 God for vengeance. But he was a ten- 
 der husband and a fond foster father; 
 a staunch and forgiving friend; loyal 
 and loving in all the relations of life. 
 
 His first biographers, in their fooHsh 
 attempts to make their hero appear to 
 be more than human — a small prig in- 
 stead of the real boy he was, and a 
 pompous and coldly self-sufficient man, 
 when his "offish" manner was often due 
 to shyness — the result was a monimien- 
 tal image of the real Washington. 
 Through the strange petrifying process 
 they used in preserving his memory, 
 they made of him the Stone Giant of 
 American History. 
 
 So it is as the living, loving. Lincoln- 
 like man, with real, warm — sometimes 
 7 
 
THE PETRIFIED GIANT 
 
 too hot — blood in his veins, that "The 
 Heart of Washington" deals with the 
 Father of his Country, to show him 
 worthy of his real place not only "first 
 in war" and "first in peace," but also 
 "first in the hearts of his countrymen." 
 
THE 
 HEART OF WASHINGTON 
 
 mS FATHER'S HEART 
 
 On the 22nd of February, 1732, a 
 little sunny-haired, blue-eyed boy was 
 born to Captain Augustine Washing- 
 ton and his second wife, who had been 
 Mary Ball, ''the belle of Northern Vir- 
 ginia." Wakefield was the name of 
 their estate, with a garden of honey- 
 suckle and sweetbriar, sloping down to 
 the broad Potomac. The house was a 
 low story-and-a-half structure w^ith a 
 steep roof slanting almost to the ground 
 behind, and a huge outside chimney at 
 each end. 
 
 9 
 
HEART (fr WASHINGTON 
 
 They named the baby George. 
 Lawrence and Augustine, or Austin, 
 Captain Washington's sons by his first 
 wife, were fourteen and twelve years 
 older. They were soon sent "back 
 home," as the colonists called England, 
 to school, to "finish," as their father be- 
 fore them had done, in a boarding- 
 school at Appleby, near Whitehaven, 
 England. 
 
 This left Mary Washington to bring 
 up her own little brood by themselves. 
 Next after little George came "Betty," 
 then Samuel, John Augustine, and 
 Charles followed in quick succession; 
 and last of all. Baby Mildred, who died 
 in fourteen months. This was George 
 Washington's first great sorrow. 
 
 Captain Washington was so called 
 because he was a ship master. He 
 owned several large plantations and 
 was one of an English syndicate known 
 as the Principio Company, owners of 
 10 
 
HIS FATHER S HEART 
 
 large iron mines and other interests in 
 Virginia, of which he was a kind of gen- 
 eral manager. 
 
 The Washingtons were not consid- 
 ered among the "F.F.V.'s," or first 
 famihes of Virginia. The owners of 
 the large estates along the Potomac 
 were younger sons of noble families in 
 England, and "at home" the Washing- 
 tons had belonged only to the minor 
 gentry. 
 
 When George was three, his father 
 moved from Westmoreland county to 
 the Hunting Creek Place, fifty miles up 
 the Potomac. There were three babies 
 then, George, Betty, and Sam. On 
 this sightly eminence (afterwards 
 named Mount Vernon) was the home 
 of George's early boyhood, where his 
 father taught him his first lessons in 
 truth-telling, respect for his elders, and 
 love of God. It was here that the 
 hatchet and cherry-tree incident is sup- 
 11 
 
HEART ffp WASHINGTON 
 
 posed to have occurred; also the grow- 
 ing of the cabbages to form the name 
 
 GEORGE WASHINGTON 
 
 to "startle" the little boy, and the good 
 father showed him that, as his name 
 could not spring up without a guiding 
 hand, so the starry universe could not 
 have been sown by chance. 
 
 It is known that Captain Washing- 
 ton was at home more than usual during 
 George's early years and found keen 
 satisfaction in his opportunity 
 
 "To rear the tender thought, 
 
 To teach the young idea how to shoot." 
 
 And the man George Washington 
 treasured those early lessons all his life, 
 taking special pride in his resemblance 
 to his father. 
 
 In the spring of 1739, while the fa- 
 12 
 
HIS FATHER'S HEART 
 
 ther was absent, the house at Hunting 
 Creek Place took fire from rubbish 
 burning in the garden. As the house 
 was high on the bluff, the slaves were 
 unable to carry water up fast enough 
 or in sufficient quantities to put it out. 
 Mary Washington wasted no time in 
 barren regrets. Ordering a few serv- 
 ants to help her get out some valuables 
 and the best furniture, she proceeded 
 to have the table set and dinner served 
 in a near-by building. 
 
 So seven-year-old George had the ex- 
 citement of a fire with an accompani- 
 ment of wails and prayers from the 
 frightened negroes who stood helplessly 
 by, wringing their hands. Then an- 
 other removal, this time to Ferry Farm 
 on the Rappahannock, opposite Fred- 
 ericksburg, and nearer Captain Wash- 
 ington's iron works. 
 
 Here an ignorant one-eyed convict 
 and church sexton, named Grove, kept 
 13 
 
HEART f5F WASHINGTON 
 
 a poor school, in a hut in a worn-out 
 field then covered with undergrowth. 
 Certain law-breakers in England were 
 punished by being sent to Virginia. 
 Grove's offense must have been slight 
 or the neighborhood would not have 
 trusted him in his double capacity. 
 
 The boys called their strange instruc- 
 tor "Hobby." He was able to teach 
 George veiy little more than his letters, 
 but after his small pupil became fa- 
 mous, according to Weems (perpetra- 
 tor of the cherry-tree story, and similar 
 anecdotes which are all called in ques- 
 tion in this iconoclastic age) , *'Hobby" 
 boasted that " 'twas he who, between his 
 knees, had laid the foundation of 
 George Washington's greatness." 
 
 At first little George rode to school 
 on the same horse with a negro servant, 
 then, to his mother's constant alarm. 
 Captain Washington gave the boy a 
 pony of his own. At this time thrilling 
 14 
 
HIS FATHER'S HEART 
 
 letters were received from Lawrence, 
 who had finished school, and had been 
 with Admiral Vernon and taken part 
 in the attack on Cartagena, near the 
 isthmus of Panama. 
 
 Little George, fired with the military 
 spirit, became a leader in the daily bat- 
 tles fought at school. He chose to 
 be captain of the "English" against 
 "Frenchmen" or "Spaniards," or of the 
 "white men" against "Indians." The 
 leader of the opposition was a big boy 
 named Bill Bustle. 
 
 With cornstalk guns and gourd 
 drums the boys marched and reconnoi- 
 tered. The pine undergrowth sur- 
 rounding that "field school" lent itself 
 best to Indian warfare, and the boys 
 fought with bows and arrows. Of 
 course their battles wound up in hand- 
 to-hand encounters, with much pulling 
 of hair and make-believe scalping with 
 wooden knives. 
 
 15 
 
HEART (ff^ WASHINGTON 
 
 There is a story that, when George 
 was about ten, their warfare took a 
 modern turn, after a heavy snow-fall, 
 with white forts and cannon-balls. The 
 Bustle bully hit the white leader in the 
 eye with a snowball in which he had 
 packed a stone. George had to stay at 
 home several days while his indignant 
 mother poulticed her eldest hopeful's 
 black eye. When she urged the lad's 
 father to go to school and visit dire 
 vengeance on that bad Bustle boy, the 
 Captain shook his head: 
 
 "No, it's a boy's quarrel. George 
 must learn to fight his own battles." 
 
 The boy needed no urging to do this. 
 The first day he went back to school he 
 tackled that Bustle, who was four or 
 five years older than himself and nearly 
 twice as large. Getting the big boy 
 down, George pummeled him so vigor- 
 ously that the poor fellow roared for 
 mercy— "Enough !"— "Enough 1" The 
 16 
 
HIS FATHER^S HEART 
 
 little Washington boy, blinded and 
 deafened by the treachery in that snow- 
 coated stone, could see and hear noth- 
 ing, but was determined to give the mis- 
 erable sneak his deserts. It took sev- 
 eral larger lads to pull the pale white 
 boy off his begging enemy, and young 
 Bustle seemed glad to escape with his 
 life. 
 
 As a boy, George had the friendship 
 of Richard Henry Lee, about his own 
 age. To him the Washington boy 
 wrote the following letter, it is said, in 
 his eleventh year: 
 
 "Dear Dickey: 
 
 "I thank you very much for tHe 
 pretty picture book you gave me. Sam 
 asked me to show him the pictures, and 
 I showed him all the pictures in it, and 
 I read to him how the tame elephant 
 took care of his master's little boy, and 
 put him on his back and would not let 
 17 
 
HEART (ft WASHINGTON 
 
 anybody touch his master's little son. 
 I can read three or four pages without 
 missing a word. 
 
 "I have a little piece of poetry about 
 the picture book you gave me, but I 
 mustn't tell who wrote the poetry. 
 
 "G. W.'s compliments to R. H. L., 
 And likes his book full well; 
 Henceforth will count him his friend. 
 And hopes many happy days he may spend. 
 
 "Your good friend, 
 "George Washington." 
 
 "Sam," referred to in this letter, was 
 George's next younger brother. 
 
 Captain Lawrence Washington, now 
 twenty-four, came home from the war 
 intending to return to England shortly, 
 as an officer in the royal service. But 
 he fell in love with Anne Fairfax, of 
 Belvoir (pronounced "Beaver"), four 
 miles below Hunting Creek Place, 
 where the house had burned down three 
 18 
 
HIS FATHER'S HEART 
 
 years before. The marriage was to 
 take place in the spring of 1743, when 
 Father Augustine Washington was 
 seized with a sudden illness called gout 
 of the stomach. 
 
 George had been allowed to go on a 
 visit to two boy cousins twenty miles 
 away. An account of the sudden end 
 of his stay is given by Dr. S. Weir 
 Mitchell, as though written by Ex- 
 President Washington fifty years af- 
 terward : 
 
 "We were merry at supper when 
 Peter, who was supposed to look after 
 me, arrived with the news of my father's 
 sudden illness. It was the first of my 
 too-many experiences of the ravages 
 time brings to all men. I heard the 
 news with a kind of awe, but without 
 realizing how serious, in many ways, 
 was this summons. I rode home be- 
 hind Peter and found my mother in a 
 state of distraction. She led me to the 
 19 
 
HEART ^F WASHINGTON 
 
 bedside of my father, crying out: *He 
 is dying!' The children were around 
 him and he was groaning in great pain; 
 but he kissed us in turn, and said to me, 
 " 'Be good to your mother.' 
 "I may say that throughout her life 
 I have kept the promise I made him as 
 I knelt crying, at his bedside. He died 
 that night and I lost my best friend." 
 
 20 
 
THE MOTHER-HEART 
 
 There was a great change in George's 
 prospects when his father died. The 
 estates were left largely to the two sons 
 of the first wife. Hunting Creek Place 
 and most of the mining interests, in fact 
 the Uon's share of the father's wealth, 
 went to Lawrence according to English 
 law and custom. Wakefield, where 
 George was born, and other properties 
 were willed to Augustine. 
 
 George was to receive, as his portion, 
 Ferry Farm, opposite Fredericksburg. 
 But Captain Washington stated in his 
 will that the property bequeathed to the 
 eldest son by his first wife should go to 
 George, the eldest by his second "Ven- 
 ture," if Lawrence should die childless 
 or if he should have an heir who died 
 21 
 
HEART of WASHINGTON 
 
 later. Sam, Jack, Charles, and Betty 
 also received land, slaves, and money. 
 
 The young mother was to have and to 
 hold the estates of her children in trust 
 ten years, until George should become 
 of age. 
 
 Mary Washington had sixteen hun- 
 dred acres of her own, and received a 
 special legacy from her husband, who 
 seems to have tried to provide liberally 
 for all the family, and as equally as the 
 law allowed. 
 
 But the inward change in George's 
 outlook was even greater than the out- 
 ward, for, boy though he was, he showed 
 those qualities of heart which, develop- 
 ing, made it possible to become a great 
 man. His mother felt keenly the dif- 
 ference between Lawrence's condition 
 and that of her eldest boy — although 
 she was familiar with the legal custom 
 when she became Captain Washington's 
 second wife. 
 
 22 
 
THE MOTHER-HEART 
 
 She complained bitterly of her lot as 
 a poor widow, and if George had been 
 an ordinary lad he would have been 
 jealous of his two half-brothers and 
 they would doubtless have severed all 
 relations with their querulous step- 
 mother and half-brothers and sister. 
 But neither of these things came to pass 
 because of George's modest and manly 
 heart. 
 
 The two older sons, being of age, took 
 immediate possession of their estates. 
 Lawrence married Miss Fairfax, who 
 brought him more "gold and lands," 
 and he built a new house where the old 
 one had burned down at Hunting Creek 
 Place, naming it Mount Vernon, for his 
 adored friend the English admiral. It 
 was through his marriage with a cousin 
 of Lord Fairfax that the Lawrence 
 Washingtons now came to be consid- 
 ered one of the "First Families of Vir- 
 ginia." 
 
 23 
 
HEART py WASHINGTON 
 
 Austin married Anne Aylett, the 
 daughter of a wealthy Westmoreland 
 planter, who added her good income to 
 his, and they went at once to live at 
 Wakefield. 
 
 As for George, 
 
 "In one short hour the boy became a man." 
 
 Though only eleven, he was his moth- 
 er's stand-by. In spite of her com- 
 plaints and comparisons of his lot with 
 those of his half-brothers, she failed to 
 excite his envy, and he came and went 
 between Moimt Vernon and Wakefield 
 on the most agreeable terms, both half- 
 brothers being very fond of him. 
 
 Of course, George could not go to 
 England to school, and his mother com- 
 plained that she could not afford even 
 to send him to William and Mary Col- 
 lege in Virginia. Young as he was, the 
 lad had the good sense to accept the lot 
 of a younger son, content also because 
 24 
 
THE MOTHER-HEART 
 
 this was his father's will. He began at 
 once to "help mother," and planned and 
 worked with her for the younger chil- 
 dren. He got the best part of his edu- 
 cation in the university of adversity. 
 He learned much from nature and ob- 
 servation. He had no special yearning 
 for booklore, so he did not mind not 
 being sent to England to school. He 
 was willing to accept the quaint dictum 
 of the day that **Mother Wit" could do 
 more for him than "Mother Country," 
 and that young men's morals were "fin- 
 ished" in England as well as their man- 
 ners. 
 
 As "Hobby's" school was the best 
 in the neighborhood of Ferry Farm, 
 George began to go about with serv- 
 ants, sailors, and transported convicts 
 from England. He was now growing 
 tall, awkward, a little hollow chested, 
 and was developing a large nose and 
 big hands and feet. 
 25 
 
HEART of WASHINGTON 
 
 He was passionately fond of horses, 
 and a story is told of his breaking a 
 vicious sorrel colt of his mother's. He 
 mastered the animal, but it fell dead un- 
 der him. Washington's adopted son 
 relates this circumstance with all the 
 grandiloquence of Plutarch's descrip- 
 tion of young Alexander the Great mas- 
 tering Bucephalus. Just such ridicu- 
 lous attempts to make ordinary acts 
 "sound" heroic, and more than human, 
 have removed the real Washington 
 from the love and sympathy of real 
 boys and men. 
 
 The half-brothers, seeing George 
 running wild, begged his mother to let 
 him live with one of them and go to 
 school. Though Mary Washington be- 
 wailed her inability to send him abroad, 
 she was loath to let him go away even a 
 few miles and attend school under a 
 brother's care. It is a luminous com- 
 mentary on George's manly disposition 
 26 
 
THE MOTHER-HEART 
 
 and behavior that he abeady had four 
 homes thrown open to him, the occu- 
 pants of which all seemed anxious to 
 have George stay — at his mother's. 
 Mount Vernon, Wakefield, and Belvoir. 
 
 The mother finally yielded and let 
 the boy go to Austin's, on account of 
 a good school at Oak Grove, four miles 
 from Wakefield, kept by a master 
 named WiUiams. This was a great 
 sacrifice for the whole family, as George 
 was kind to the younger children and 
 they adored him. There was always a 
 special comradeship between him and 
 "Sister Betty," who grew to resemble 
 him; and Washington's longest letters, 
 as commander-in-chief, were addressed 
 to "Dear Brother Jack." 
 
 George was allowed to go only on 
 condition that he should ride home, a 
 distance of about twenty miles, every 
 few weeks over Sunday. To him the 
 chief attraction at Wakefield was his 
 27 
 
HEART df WASHINGTON 
 
 brother's fine stable of thirty horses. 
 He had one horse as his own for the gal- 
 lop to and from school. Here he took a 
 practical or business course. Young as 
 he was, and fond of outdoor sports, he 
 studied diligently to make up for lost 
 time. A schoolmate told that, while 
 all the other boys "were playing at 
 bandy and other games, George was be- 
 hind the door ciphering." 
 
 The lank, overgrown, round-shoul- 
 dered youth was shy with the girls, but 
 "hail, fellow, well met" with the boys. 
 He excelled in running, climbing, and 
 throwing. As at "Hobby's," he was a 
 leader here, and sometimes was asked to 
 act as umpire in the other boys' quarrels. 
 
 In the school-room George showed a 
 fondness for arithmetic, but he cared 
 nothing for grammar, and was always 
 a poor speller, though he studied hard 
 to correct these defects, even after he 
 became President of the United States! 
 28 
 
THE MOTHER-HEART 
 
 As he enjoyed any employment which 
 kept him out of doors, he was happy in 
 carrying the chain for Mr. Williams's 
 surveying class, as they measured the 
 meadows along Bridge's creek. 
 
 The schoolmaster gave George a 
 book called ''The Youth's Companion," 
 a collection of recipes, directions, prob- 
 lems in surveying, rules of etiquet — 
 a sort of memorandum and handy book. 
 
 During the year or more he spent at 
 Wakefield, George increased in devo- 
 tion to and admiration for Austin, a 
 wholesome, sturdy, good-natured sort 
 of brother, who took the boy with 
 him sometimes on fishing and hunting 
 trips. 
 
 But the Widow Washington fretted 
 over the long absence of her eldest 
 son. So it was decided that George 
 should return to Ferry Farm, and go to 
 a school in Fredericksburg across the 
 river. Here the Rev. Mr. Marye, rec- 
 29 
 
HEART df WASHINGTON 
 
 tor of the Church of England, took a 
 few pupils in "Latin, French, and de- 
 portment." xVboiit half his time in his 
 fifteenth year was spent with his mother, 
 going from Fern' Farm to Fredericks- 
 burg to school, and the other half at 
 Mount Vernon with Brother Lawrence 
 and his wife. 
 
 With ^Ir. ^larye George learned a 
 little Latin and afterwards expressed 
 regret that he had not improved this op- 
 portunity of studying French with this 
 Huguenot minister. The memorable 
 thing he learned with Pastor ]Marye was 
 more than a hundred "Rules of Civility 
 and Decent Behaviour in Company and 
 Conversation." 
 
 Here are several of the rules, as he 
 copied them: 
 
 "Keep your Xails clean and Short, 
 also your Hands and Teeth Clean yet 
 without showing any great Concern for 
 them." 
 
 30 
 
THE MOTHER-HEART 
 
 *'Let your Discourse with Men of 
 Business be Short and Comprehensive." 
 
 "Strive not with your Superiors in 
 argument, but always Submit your 
 Judgment with ^lodesty." 
 
 "Undertake not what you cannot 
 Perform but be Careful to keep your 
 Promise." 
 
 "Speak not Evil of the absent for it 
 is unjust." 
 
 "Let your Recreations be Manfull 
 not Sinfull." 
 
 "Labour to keep ahve in your Breast 
 that Little Spark of Celestial fire called 
 Conscience." 
 
 Wliile going to school at Rector 
 Marye's, George made the acquaintance 
 of two boys in Fredericksburg named 
 Crawford. These sturdy fellows be- 
 came well-kno^vn heroes among pio- 
 neers and Indian fighters. In them 
 young Washington found "foemen 
 worthy of his steel" in wrestUng and 
 31 
 
HEART C^ WASHINGTON 
 
 other athletics. With them he devel- 
 oped the wonderful grasp of his power- 
 ful hand and learned a trick or two that 
 he had occasion to use later, with telling 
 effect. The companionship of these 
 youthful heroes was an excellent substi- 
 tute for that of the grooms, convicts, 
 and slaves with whom he had lately con- 
 sorted. 
 
 There was little for a youth of 
 George's practical turn to learn with 
 the Huguenot clergyman, for he needed 
 strength for the struggles of life, rather 
 than the superficial finish of a "gentle- 
 man farmer." Honest labor was so 
 despised that a young man who had to 
 earn his own living was not considered 
 a fit associate for the gambling, guz- 
 zling, horse-racing, cock-fighting scions 
 of the so-called gentry of that re- 
 gion. 
 
 His older brothers were anxious to 
 have him enter a creditable career, and 
 32 
 
THE MOTHER-HEART 
 
 of course the mother wished to see him 
 the equal of his friends and relatives 
 in respectability. She had a deep- 
 seated dread of poverty, but it was not 
 so strong as the mother-fear that some- 
 thing might separate her darling boy 
 from her. 
 
 Captain Lawrence Washington, who 
 had some influence with Admiral Ver- 
 non and English generals, proposed to 
 use it in George's behalf to secure him 
 a place as midshipman in the British 
 navy. This might lead him to a good 
 "berth," and a lad of such parts could 
 prove a hero and climb high on the lad- 
 der of life. 
 
 George had heard tales of war, ad- 
 venture, and pirates, and had been fired 
 with a great desire for *'a life on the 
 ocean wave," so when he and Lawrence 
 came home to Ferry Farm and told 
 Mother Washington of all the financial 
 and other benefits the whole family 
 33 
 
HEART df WASHINGTON 
 
 might derive from George's securing a 
 good position, she gave her reluctant 
 consent. 
 
 The two brothers, surprised and 
 elated, hurried back to Mount Vernon 
 to make preparations. They vi^ere no 
 sooner gone than the poor mother was 
 in a frenzy of despair over having 
 yielded to their persuasions. She was 
 in a dilemma. Too proud to take back 
 her promise, she wrote to her brother, 
 Joseph Ball, a London lawyer, telling 
 him her trouble. Then she waited six 
 months, between hope and fear, for 
 something to prevent this lifelong sepa- 
 ration and save her heart from breaking. 
 She hoped to hear from him before they 
 received the reply from the British ad- 
 miralty. 
 
 At last the long-looked-for letter 
 
 came. Uncle Joseph declared against 
 
 the whole project. They would rob 
 
 and cheat the boy, "and cut and slash 
 
 34 
 
THE MOTHER-HEART 
 
 and use him like a negro, or rather hke 
 a dog." 
 
 It was just the sort of advice the 
 widow wanted. She now had a lawyer 
 and a man of the world on her side. 
 She lost no time in driving to Mount 
 Vernon and laying the letter before the 
 brothers. 
 
 The old lawyer had assumed that 
 George could only get a place before the 
 mast as a common sailor, while Law- 
 rence had applied for a position as mid- 
 shipman and had secured the appoint- 
 ment without delay. George had tried 
 on his new uniform and his little sea- 
 going box was already on board a man- 
 of-war then anchored in the Potomac. 
 Although Uncle Ball's letter read as 
 though he had received his information 
 about George's going to sea from an- 
 other quarter, the two brothers must 
 have suspected the real source — it came 
 so opportunely for the mother. But 
 35 
 
HEART OF WASHINGTON 
 
 George maintained a respectful silence 
 about this. 
 
 When the difference between a com- 
 mon sailor-boy and a midshipman, en- 
 tered with influential backing, was ex- 
 plained, the poor mother lost all her 
 pride and reserve. Breaking down, she 
 began to sob and beg her son not to 
 forsake his forlorn mother in her loneli- 
 ness. To Lawrence this was truly ex- 
 asperating, for she had given her con- 
 sent, and they had gone ahead and made 
 all the necessary an^angements. The 
 appointment was highly flattering and 
 the tall lad's blue-gray eyes had spark- 
 led with hope and pride as he tried on 
 the bright uniform of the royal navy. 
 
 George thought of it all — and the 
 chest on board the great ship of war. 
 He thought of his bright hopes — ^his 
 only chance for the brave career he 
 yearned for so ardently. But provok- 
 ing and unreasonable as it all seemed, 
 36 
 
THE MOTHER-HEART 
 
 he could not go away and leave his 
 mother weeping like that. With burn- 
 ing eyes and a lump in his throat, he re- 
 nounced his high hopes to humor her. 
 He yielded to his mother's tears— not 
 to his uncle's officious, patronizing let- 
 ter. 
 
 The little trunk was sent for and re- 
 moved from the ship just in time. The 
 crisp uniform was folded awaj^ never to 
 be worn. The man-of-war sailed down 
 the broad river in the halo of a radiant 
 future, leaving a disappointed boy chok- 
 ing down his sobs, in such a gloom as 
 only a life-disappointment can bring to 
 an ambitious youth. That was a heroic 
 sacrifice — like a martyrdom — to crush 
 his own young heart to save his mother's. 
 
 87 
 
YOUNG STRONG-HEART 
 
 After that bitter self-renunciation 
 George was allowed to stay at Mount 
 Vernon most of the time. Lawrence 
 did all he could to make up the cost of 
 "the grand refusal" to the heart-broken 
 lad. George had several tutors, and in 
 the old yellow pages of his cash account 
 may still be seen this quaint entry : 
 
 "To cash pd y® Musick Master 
 
 for my Entrance 3/9" 
 
 This "Musick Master" could not have 
 been a private tutor. George never 
 showed much ability in music, and cared 
 but little for quavers and semi-quavers, 
 but there were pretty girls to be seen in 
 the neighborhood singing-school. To 
 his dying day he was devoted to young 
 38 
 
YOUNG STRONG-HEART 
 
 women, but so bashful that he would 
 rather face any number of loaded can- 
 non than a "battery of bright eyes." 
 
 The brothers would have been glad to 
 share with George and so let him lead 
 an idle, "respectable" life, but he al- 
 ready possessed a supreme contempt for 
 snobbery, and felt, since his father's 
 death, a certain manly responsibility as 
 the head of his mother's family. He 
 was not satisfied to seek his own comfort 
 and enjoyment and leave her to struggle 
 on alone. 
 
 His brothers passed their time super- 
 intending their plantations, and other 
 business affairs, but they indulged in the 
 sports of the time, fox-hunting, horse- 
 racing, drinking and gambling, as the 
 landed gentry of England did, but in 
 moderation. 
 
 Among the tutors Lawrence had em- 
 ployed was a pioneer scout and sur- 
 veyor, who taught George that higher 
 39 
 
HEART of WASHINGTON 
 
 branch of mathematics, giving him field 
 practice as well as the mechanical draw- 
 ing necessary for platting. 
 
 While living at Lawrence's, George 
 often rode to Belvoir. Here he met 
 Lord Fairfax, a distinguished member 
 of court society in England, who had 
 banished himself to his vast estates in 
 Virginia, because a too-ambitious Eng- 
 lish lady had jilted him to marry a duke. 
 He was a confirmed woman-hater, and 
 George's shyness towards the fair sex 
 found in him a ready sympathy. Other 
 bonds of fellowship were also found to 
 exist between the old nobleman and 
 Widow Washington's son. 
 
 William Fairfax, master of Belvoir, 
 father of Lawrence Washington's wife, 
 was Lord Fairfax's cousin, and man- 
 ager of that nobleman's estates; so 
 George was welcomed by the Fairfax 
 family as a sort of connection by mar- 
 riage, and the old Englishman was at- 
 40 
 
YOUNG STRONG-HEART 
 
 tracted by the sturdy manhood of the 
 young American. He talked with 
 George of life at Oxford, of meeting 
 royalty, and of dining with Addison, 
 then the greatest literary light in Eng- 
 land. 
 
 He guided the youth's reading, and 
 the two went out together, often fox- 
 hunting and riding home in silence after 
 an exciting chase. His lordship, hav- 
 ing found too many women along the 
 coast, and being an ardent lover of na- 
 ture, had sighed "for a lodge in some 
 vast wilderness," and built, in the beau- 
 tiful Shenandoah valley, a modest 
 house which he named Greenway Court. 
 This was in the heaii: of his wilderness 
 possessions. Here he lived alone, much 
 of the time, except for a few faithful 
 servants. 
 
 But in spite of his noble friend's 
 warnings against women, George's 
 heart was too young and susceptible to 
 41 
 
HEART Oi^ WASHINGTON 
 
 be turned against all the lovely girls he 
 knew. It was the fashion for young 
 men to write love verses and address 
 them to their special fair ones. George 
 Washington did this and also wrote let- 
 ters to male cousins and friends about a 
 certain "Lowland Beauty," but no one 
 knows with certainty who she was. 
 
 And the love-lines he wrote! Here 
 is a sample: 
 
 "Oh, ye gods ! why should my poor resistless 
 heart 
 
 Stand to oppose thy might and power? 
 At last surrender to Cupid's feather'd dart 
 
 And now lies bleeding every hour 
 For her that's pitiless of my grief and woes 
 
 And will not on me pity take; 
 He sleeps amongst my most inveterate foes 
 And with gladness never wish to wake — " 
 
 And so on and on and on. As this 
 seems not to have been sent to any par- 
 ticular object of his affection, it is 
 thought George took to writing verse 
 because all young men, mostly older 
 42 
 
YOUNG STRONG-HEART 
 
 than he, were doing this — as the modem 
 boy of fourteen to sixteen goes in for 
 collecting stamps till he tires of the fad. 
 
 43 
 
THE TWO ELDER BROTHERS 
 
 Lord Fairfax encouraged George to 
 make a practical use of his knowledge 
 of surveying; he doubtless looked down 
 on the idleness of the wild and foolish 
 young men of Virginia. Of course, 
 such an honorable authority as the sixth 
 Baron Fairfax soon convinced the older 
 brothers that it was quite right and 
 proper for George, as a younger son, to 
 become a practical surveyor. But the 
 yearning mother still opposed it. It 
 was a dangerous calling which meant 
 work in distant wilds among "squat- 
 ters," or random settlers, who looked on 
 surveyors as sent by the English pro- 
 prietors to take their lands and homes 
 from them. Then there were Indians, 
 often hostile and treacherous, besides 
 44 
 
TWO ELDER BROTHERS 
 
 swollen rivers, rattlesnakes and wild 
 beasts. Above all it would take her 
 precious boy away from her for months 
 at a time. But Lord Fairfax sent 
 George out to survey his own great es- 
 tates and paid him handsomely for his 
 services. With the Washington lad, 
 only sixteen then, went George William 
 Fairfax, several years older. The two 
 youths had Surveyor Genn with them, 
 as guide and manager. 
 
 Though the excursion was beset with 
 many difficulties and dangers, the two 
 Georges, buoyed up by youthful spirits 
 (though George Washington had been 
 suffering from a bilious attack), went 
 through it with the enthusiasm that 
 brings success. The Washington lad 
 kept a diary of this surveying expedi- 
 tion, making sage comments on the con- 
 ditions he found, and recording their ex- 
 periences with settlers, Indians and 
 others, especially jokes against himself, 
 45 
 
HEART df' WASHINGTON 
 
 — how he shot at two turkeys and missed 
 them both. Here is an extract from 
 his quaint record of his first surveying 
 trip which he called: — 
 
 "A Journal of My Journey over the 
 Mountains, Begun Friday, the 11th of 
 March, 1747-8." 
 
 "Sunday, March 13th. Rode to his 
 lordship's quarters. About four miles 
 higher up the river Shenandoah we went 
 through most beautiful groves of sugar 
 trees, and spent the best part of the day 
 in admiring the trees and the richness 
 of the land. . . . 
 
 "15th. Worked hard till night, and 
 then returned. After supper we were 
 lighted into a room, and I, not being as 
 good a woodsman as the rest, stripped 
 myself very orderly, and went into the 
 bed, as they called it, when to my sur- 
 prise I found it to be nothing but a lit- 
 46 
 
TWO ELDER BROTHERS 
 
 tie straw matted together without sheet 
 or anything else, but only one thread- 
 bare blanket, with double its weight of 
 vermin, such as lice, fleas, &c( !) 
 
 "I was glad to get up (as soon as the 
 light was carried from us) and put on 
 my clothes and he as my companions 
 did. Had we not been very tired, I am 
 sure we should not have slept much that 
 night." 
 
 There was one experience he did not 
 record, probably because the joke was 
 not on himself. Surveyor Genn had 
 met, during a previous scout or survey, 
 an Indian chief named Big Bear, who 
 had an awful hand-grasp, and dehghted 
 in shaking hands with an unwitting 
 "paleface," making the bones crack, and 
 grinning with fiendish glee over the 
 white man's agony. So Genn warned 
 the members of his party against trust- 
 ing Big Bear if they should meet him, 
 47 
 
HEART O^WASHINGTON 
 
 George said nothing, but remembered 
 a trick he had learned with the Craw- 
 ford boys in Fredericksburg. When 
 that wily chief presented his sinewy paw 
 with the usual Indian greeting, "How?" 
 Washington seized it with an innocent 
 look, and said "How?" with great cor- 
 diality. 
 
 The astonished Indian, caught in 
 his own trap, fairly roared with pain, 
 and the delighted bystanders, Indians 
 as well as white men, danced with joy to 
 see "the biter bitten" at last, and writh- 
 ing with the very agony he had inflicted 
 on others. 
 
 The struggle for the right to earn his 
 own living was George Washington's 
 first war for independence. This free- 
 dom from dependence was sweet to him 
 as he returned from his first surveying 
 trip, a happy young conqueror of six- 
 teen. He had earned from eighteen to 
 twenty-four dollars per diem — very 
 48 
 
TWO ELDER BROTHERS 
 
 high wages for that day and generation ! 
 The first thing he did was to go with 
 George Fairfax to Belvoir and report 
 to his distinguished employer. His 
 lordship was pleased with everything, 
 especially with the lad's "Journal" of 
 the excursion. 
 
 The satisfaction of one great landed 
 proprietor meant recommendations that 
 would bring engagements from others, 
 and it was with a hght heart that young 
 George Washington went home to tell 
 his mother all about it, and have a happy 
 romp with the younger children, for 
 "bouncing Betty" was enough like her 
 big brother George to be a boon com- 
 panion. 
 
 The next year, at the age of seven- 
 teen, Washington received from Wil- 
 ham and Mary College, at WiUiams- 
 burg, the colonial capital of Virginia, 
 a commission as surveyor of Culpeper 
 County. 
 
 49 
 
HEART 0:^WASHINGTON 
 
 While in the western wilds he wrote 
 the following letter to his friend Rich- 
 ard Henry Lee: 
 
 "Dear Richard: 
 
 "The receipt of your kind favor of 
 the 2nd instant afforded me unspeak- 
 able pleasure, as it convinces me that I 
 am still in the memory of so worthy a 
 friend — a friendship I shall ever be 
 proud of increasing. Yours gave me 
 the more pleasure, as I received it 
 among barbarians and an uncouth set 
 of people. 
 
 "Since you received my letter of Oc- 
 tober last, I have not slept above three 
 or four nights in a bed, but after walk- 
 ing a good deal all day, I have lain down 
 before the fire upon a little hay, straw, 
 fodder or a bearskin, whichever was to 
 be had, with man, wife and children, like 
 dogs and cats ; and happy is he who gets 
 the berth nearest the fire! 
 50 
 
TWO ELDER BROTHERS 
 
 "Nothing could make it pass off tol- 
 erably but a good reward. A doubloon 
 is my constant gain every day that the 
 weather will permit of my going out, 
 and sometimes six pistoles. [A doub- 
 loon is a double pistole, and a pistole 
 was worth about four dollars in mod- 
 ern money.] 
 
 "The coldness of the weather will not 
 permit of my making a long stay, as the 
 lodging is rather too cold for the time 
 of the year. I never had my clothes off, 
 but have lain and slept in them, except 
 the few nights I have been in Freder- 
 ickstown." 
 
 The pilgrimages of the seventeen- 
 year-old County Surveyor into western 
 wilds became fewer and farther be- 
 tween, for Lawrence's health seemed to 
 be faihng fast, and the invalid yearned 
 to have Brother George with him more 
 and yet more. It was a beautiful 
 51 
 
HEART df WASHINGTON 
 
 friendship which existed between these 
 two, for the younger was 
 
 "Brother, at once, and son.'* 
 
 Lawrence seems to have known that 
 he was not long for this world, for, be- 
 tween trips in vain search for health, he 
 kept planning for the future of his wife 
 and baby daughter — and for George, to 
 whom he clung as a sick man does to the 
 young, well and strong. As a last re- 
 sort he decided to spend the winter in 
 Barbados, and no one but George would 
 he take with him. 
 
 Some time before this Lawrence had 
 resigned as an officer in the Virginia 
 militia, and recommended that George 
 take his place, and the youth was duly 
 appointed district adjutant-general, 
 ranking major, with a salary, in modern 
 money, of seven hundred and fifty dol- 
 lars a year. The young major was 
 given lessons in handling the broad- 
 52 
 
TWO ELDER BROTHERS 
 
 sword and in fencing by an officer 
 named Van Braam, who had been with 
 Lawrence in the war, and he pursued 
 mihtary studies under Adjutant Muse, 
 another officer acquaintance. Young 
 Major Washington's duties consisted in 
 making tours through several counties, 
 and inspecting drills, arms and ac- 
 couterments of the Colonial militia. 
 
 But he had to give up surveying and 
 militia duties to accompany his brother 
 on the voyage in hopeless search of 
 health. They sailed on the 28th of Sep- 
 tember, 1751, George being nineteen 
 and Lawrence thirty-three years of age. 
 
 George kept a diary on this voyage. 
 There was little interest beyond the 
 daily symptoms of the invahd. On the 
 day of their arrival, after a passage of 
 five weary weeks, they were entertained 
 by the governor of Barbados, and 
 George was exposed to smallpox. He 
 was ill nearly four weeks, losmg his 
 53 
 
HEART OF WASHINGTON 
 
 fresh, youthful complexion, and his skin 
 was left pitted. Till his death he bore 
 the marks of that governor's hospitality. 
 
 Lawrence had the ups and downs 
 common to those in the last stages of 
 consumption. He decided to try a 
 change at Bermuda, sending George 
 home to bring Anne, his wife, to meet 
 him on that\ island. But before they 
 sailed from Virginia they received word 
 not to come, for Lawrence was now 
 ''hurrying home to his grave." He 
 reached Mount Vernon in the spring 
 of 1752, and died in July. George, 
 though only twenty, was the real exec- 
 utor of his brother's will. He did his 
 part faithfully and well. 
 
 When he was twenty-one he declined 
 to disturb his mother in the possession 
 of Ferry Farm, which had been left to 
 him by his father, although at that time 
 he did not know that another estate 
 was soon to be his. Lawrence's little 
 54 
 
TWO ELDER BROTHERS 
 
 daughter died in 1754, and thereupon 
 Lawrence's beautiful home passed into 
 his brother's possession. Thus at two 
 and twenty, George Washington, tall 
 and handsome, after manifold struggles 
 through boyhood and youth, became the 
 wealthy master of Mount Vernon. 
 
 55 
 
"THE HERO'S HEART" 
 
 Among the interests of the two older 
 Washington brothers was that of the 
 Ohio Company, of which Lawrence had 
 been president. This was an Enghsh 
 syndicate holding certain rights along 
 the Ohio, now included in the States of 
 West Virginia and southeastern Ohio, 
 which were encroached upon by the 
 French, coming down from Canada and 
 settling along that river. The Indians 
 occupying the disputed territory took 
 sides ; those allying themselves with the 
 French were known as "French In- 
 dians." 
 
 Robert Dinwiddle, governor of Vir- 
 ginia, was also interested in the Ohio 
 Company. He appointed the young 
 adjutant-general, then only twenty, 
 56 
 
"THE HERO S HEART ' 
 
 special envoy from the English and in- 
 structed him to take to the French com- 
 mander a "notice to quit" the country. 
 Major Washington thought his ap- 
 pointment a mistake, for Indians have 
 great respect for age, and he felt that 
 the French officers, some of whom were 
 Indian half-breeds, would laugh to 
 scorn a message from Great Britain de- 
 livered by "almost a boy." As a mili- 
 tary officer it was his "not to reason 
 why." It was not fear of losing his life 
 that made young Washington hesitate, 
 but he was afraid of failing in the at- 
 tempt through his own unfitness. 
 
 George was not yet twenty-one at 
 that time, and he dreaded the parting 
 with his mother on such a dangerous 
 errand more than encountering a whole 
 village of hostile savages. She ob- 
 jected, of course — almost any mother 
 would. When his mere personal ambi- 
 tion was involved, he had given up a 
 57 
 
HEART OF WASHINGTON 
 
 bright future for her sake, but now he 
 was an officer of the government, and 
 his country called on him to risk his life. 
 It would be weakness to yield to her en- 
 treaties now, so he comforted her the 
 best he could and left for Williamsburg. 
 On the 30th of October, 1753, the 
 young envoy set out on a difficult and 
 dangerous mission which was to affect 
 the future history of two hemispheres, 
 traveling on horseback or on foot, with 
 a few scouts and an interpreter. It was 
 a journey of hundreds of miles through 
 pathless forests, deep with snows, and 
 among hostile savages. He held pow- 
 wows in Indian lodges, enlisting red 
 men as guides and helpers. At an in- 
 terview and supper in Venango, he kept 
 his head while his French hosts were 
 maudlin with drink and revealed the 
 secret orders of their superiors. He 
 had to go on, almost to Lake Erie, to 
 deliver the governor's letter to Cheva- 
 58 
 
^*THE HERO'S HEART" 
 
 lier de St. Pierre, the highest officer 
 south of Quebec. 
 
 While waiting for the Chevalier's 
 reply, the French tried to bribe his 
 friendly Indians with liquor, guns and 
 ammunition; but the boy diplomat, by 
 tact, prowess and patience, brought 
 away his allies in triumph, after having 
 made secret drafts of the French fortifi- 
 cations. In his reply the Chevalier re- 
 fused to vacate the lands occupied by 
 the French. 
 
 On the return trip the strange em- 
 bassy reached Venango in canoes, after 
 several adventures. There the party 
 separated. Major Washington sending 
 the rest home on the horses, while he 
 and Gist, a special scout, started out a 
 shorter way on foot, through woods and 
 deep snow, as he was anxious to deliver 
 the message to Governor Dinwiddle 
 without delay. No trails could be seen, 
 so they engaged an Indian guide. He 
 59 
 
HEART OF WASHINGTON 
 
 proved to be hostile, and Washington 
 caught him in the act of aiming a gun 
 at him. The young white man dis- 
 armed the Indian. Gist said there was 
 no way but to kill the treacherous sav- 
 age, for, if allowed to escape, he would 
 follow them with others of his tribe 
 and murder them. Reasonable as this 
 seemed, George took the chance of los- 
 ing his own life rather than shoot, in 
 cold blood, a defenceless enemy. 
 
 They let the Indian go, to his great 
 astonishment, and hurried blindly for- 
 ward through deep drifts, though 
 Major Washington was lame and suf- 
 fering from blistered feet. They dared 
 not encamp and rest that night, as they 
 believed to do so would mean sure death. 
 By morning they reached the Allegheny 
 river, after a hideous night of sleepless 
 apprehension. In his journal Wash- 
 ington wrote: 
 
 "There was no way for getting over 
 60 
 
"THE HERO'S HEART" 
 
 but on a raft; which we set about with 
 one poor hatchet. Before we were half 
 way over we were jammed in the ice. 
 The rapidity of the stream jerked me 
 out into ten feet of water." 
 
 This was far more disagreeable and 
 dangerous than the crossing of the Del- 
 aware twenty-three years later. The 
 young man caught the end of a log 
 and scrambled back on the raft. The 
 weather was below zero and a high wind 
 was blowing. 
 
 The two fugitives reached a bleak 
 island in the darkness and built a fire 
 where Washington tried to dry his 
 frozen clothing. Gist, long hardened 
 to exposure, found in the morning that 
 his fingers and toes were frozen. The 
 next day they escaped to the opposite 
 shore, where they were safe from pur- 
 suing Indians. They learned after- 
 ward that they must have had a narrow 
 escape, as the pursuing savages, disap- 
 61 
 
HEART OJ^WASHINGTON 
 
 pointed of their prey, killed and scalped 
 a helpless family living near. 
 
 Major Washington purchased two 
 horses and the two men, after more 
 hardships and escapes, reached Wil- 
 liamsburg on the 16th of January, 1754, 
 where the brave young messenger de- 
 livered Chevalier de St. Pierre's polite 
 but unsatisfactory reply to Governor 
 Dinwiddle, 
 
 62 
 
"DRUM-BEAT— HEART-BEAT" 
 
 The young ambassador had early de- 
 veloped that habit of putting things 
 down, which goes far toward success in 
 many walks of life. His boyish diary, 
 describing his adventures in western 
 wilds, was published, and found a wide 
 and eager reading, not only among the 
 American colonies, but in Great Britain 
 and on the continent of Europe by mon- 
 archs, ministries, diplomats and people 
 of the work-a-day world. In recogni- 
 tion of his services. Major Washington 
 was promoted to second in command in 
 Virginia, with the rank of colonel. 
 
 Governor Dinwiddie began at once, 
 
 by writing letters and sending special 
 
 messengers, to arouse the colonies to 
 
 unite and fight those enemies of all, the 
 
 63 
 
HEART Of WASHINGTON 
 
 French and their Indian alHes. As- 
 suming the initiative he also sent Cap- 
 tain Trent and a band of workmen to 
 build a fort at the fork of the Ohio, des- 
 ignated by Washington to be the stra- 
 tegic point of all that region. 
 
 Trent failed to guard the fortifica- 
 tions, and one day, in his absence with 
 troops, hundreds of French and Indians 
 landed in canoes and swarmed up the 
 bank. The few men working on the 
 unfinished fort were helpless. As they 
 offered no resistance, they were allowed 
 to leave unmolested, taking their build- 
 ing tools with them. 
 
 They found their way to Colonel 
 Washington, who had been sent after 
 Trent as soon as a company could be 
 organized for the purpose, and was ap- 
 proaching to protect and secure the 
 fortress. It was a deep chagrin to the 
 young ofiicer to lose this point of van- 
 tage to his country through stupid neg- 
 64 
 
*^DRUM-BEAT— HEART-BEAT" 
 
 lect. Of course, it was useless now to 
 advance to the forks of the Ohio, where 
 the French were already completing a 
 larger work, which they named Fort 
 Duquesne. 
 
 Gist, the scout who had acted as guide 
 on his expedition through this region 
 the year before, came to report that for- 
 eign soldiers' tracks had been seen in 
 the neighborhood. Then the Indian 
 chief known as the Half- King, who had 
 been one of the motley embassy the year 
 before, and who was approaching to join 
 Washington again, sent word that a 
 French scouting party of fifty men had 
 been tracked to a secluded glen in the 
 woods. 
 
 Setting out at dead of night from 
 Great Meadows, with about fifty sol- 
 diers, including Indian guides, Wash- 
 ington led his men, single file, grop- 
 ing, stumbling, jostling one another, 
 through a pouring rain, till they sur- 
 65 
 
HEART O:^ WASHINGTON 
 
 rounded the hidden French camp where 
 even the sentry was asleep beside the 
 sputtering fire. 
 
 The French camp "woke to hear the 
 sentry shriek" and stumbled about, 
 grabbing for their guns. By the flick- 
 ering firelight they saw the tall young 
 leader standing in the foreground 
 against the inky blackness, and heard 
 him cry, "Fire!" 
 
 Although bullets whistled around 
 him. Colonel Washington was not hit. 
 In fifteen minutes the French had sur- 
 rendered; their leader, Jumonville, had 
 been slain with nine of his men. Only 
 one of Washington's men was killed, 
 and two or three wounded. The Vir- 
 ginia colonel courteously offered the two 
 officers among the French prisoners all 
 the dry clothing he had, though he him- 
 self was drenched to the skin. 
 
 This was Washington's first battle. 
 In a letter to his brother Jack he wrote 
 66 
 
^'DRUM-BEAT— HEART-BEAT" 
 
 exultingly, because he had learned that 
 real danger could not make him afraid : 
 
 "I have heard the bullets whistle, 
 and, believe me, there is something 
 charming in the sound." 
 
 When this remark was reported to 
 George the Second of England, the 
 king replied: 
 
 "He would not say so if he had been 
 used to hear many." 
 
 The French tried to make it appear 
 that Jumonville and his men were on 
 a peaceful expedition, and had been 
 treacherously murdered in the dark by 
 Washington and his cowardly crew. 
 
 At Great Meadows he built a low 
 log-enclosure which they named Fort 
 Necessity. Meanwhile Colonel Fry, 
 first in command, had died on his way 
 thither. So young Washington was 
 now head of the Virginia forces. Re- 
 cruits formerly under Fry soon reached 
 Fort Necessity with a regiment of In- 
 67 
 
HEART OF WASHINGTON 
 
 dependents from South Carolina. 
 They called themselves Independents 
 because they were paid by the crown, 
 and better dressed, fed and drilled, than 
 the hastily gathered company from Vir- 
 ginia. Their captain refused to take 
 orders from Colonel Washington. 
 The men from South Carolina would 
 not work in building roads or the fort. 
 They said they were neither diggers nor 
 woodsmen, but soldiers. 
 
 Colonel Washington bore these trials 
 with all the patience at his command. 
 He could not endure to see his faithful 
 soldiers work while the "independent" 
 loafers merely looked on or jeered at 
 those who were working, so he ordered 
 the Virginia troops to go forward fell- 
 ing trees and cutting roads, while the 
 Carolina men remained at ease near the 
 unfinished fort. When the Virginians 
 had advanced twelve miles, their leader 
 learned that a large body of French 
 68 
 
**DRUM-BEAT— HEART-BEAT" 
 
 were coming down the river under com- 
 mand of Coulon de Villiers, brother of 
 Jumonville, vowing dire vengeance 
 upon "the cruel Washington" and his 
 murderous gang. The Virginia colonel 
 sent for the Independents' officers, and 
 after a council of war, decided to return 
 to the fort. Now with the enemy less 
 than a day off, the Independents worked 
 on the fortification they had been too 
 proud to finish, as if it were their last 
 day on earth — as it proved to be for 
 many of them ! 
 
 On the morning of the 3d of July, 
 1754, the French and Indians sur- 
 rounded their log enclosure. The In- 
 dependents, ready to fight now that the 
 enemy was in sight, must have regretted 
 their foohshness. As in the previous 
 battle, there was a heavy downpour of 
 rain. Washington ordered them within 
 the roofless fortress, where they were 
 huddled together in a miserable plight. 
 69 
 
HEART oF WASHINGTON 
 
 The rain wet their ammunition so that 
 they could not discharge their muskets. 
 They stood knee deep in mud and 
 water, and had nothing to eat but raw 
 beef. 
 
 The Half- King, seeing that it was to 
 be a losing fight, refused to take part, 
 and withdrew his braves to a safe dis- 
 tance. In excuse for this he announced 
 that he was disgusted with the idleness 
 of the Independents, and that Wash- 
 ington was to blame for allowing it. 
 He added this insult to his injury: 
 "The French are cowards and the Eng- 
 lish fools!" 
 
 Finally, greatly outnumbered and 
 unable to fight, Colonel Washington 
 accepted a call to surrender. He had 
 occasion here to regret that he had not 
 learned French. He sent Van Braam 
 to confer with de Villiers. That 
 Dutchman returned with terms of cap- 
 itulation for Colonel Washington to 
 70 
 
**DRUM-BEAT— HEART-BEAT" 
 
 sign. Depending on this interpreter's 
 translation, he signed a document which 
 stated that he had assassinated Jumon- 
 viUe! 
 
 According to this agreement, the 
 young commander was permitted to 
 march out of Fort Necessity with drums 
 beating and colors flying — on July 4th, 
 1754 — ^twenty-two years before the 
 Declaration of Independence. 
 
 n 
 
BRADDOCK'S AIDE 
 
 After "snatchinig victory from the 
 jaws of defeat," the young commander- 
 in-chief returned to Mount Vernon — 
 now his own — a mihtary hero, and an 
 object of increased admiration among 
 the fair sex. His friend Fairfax wrote 
 him: 
 
 "If a Saturday night's rest cannot be 
 sufficient to enable your coming hither 
 to-morrow, the ladies will try to get 
 horses to equip our chair, or attempt 
 their strength on foot [four miles] to 
 salute you, so desirous are they with lov- 
 ing speed to have an ocular demonstra- 
 tion of your being the same identical 
 gent ( !) that lately departed to defend 
 his country's cause." 
 
 The modest young master of Mount 
 72 
 
BRADDOCK'S AIDE 
 
 Vernon had opened the Seven Years' 
 War in Europe. The Virginia House 
 of Burgesses saw no reason for re- 
 proaching him, handicapped as he had 
 been, but thanked him for his bravery 
 in both battles, and voted a pistole 
 (about four dollars) apiece to his sol- 
 diers. 
 
 Govenor Dinwiddle began, in a stu- 
 pid, exasperating way, to complicate 
 the opening conflict. The young com- 
 mander became involved in bickerings 
 and other annoyances on account of the 
 governor's favorites. Meanwhile Eng- 
 land sent General Braddock over to 
 fight the French and their Indian aUies. 
 Washington was invited to be one of his 
 aides. The young Colonel did his best 
 to get the arrogant English general to 
 see the folly of fighting Indians and 
 half-breeds by Continental methods. 
 Braddock replied loftily that such sav- 
 age soldiers might defeat American 
 73 
 
HEART Of^WASHINGTON 
 
 troops but they would take to their heels 
 at the sight of the red uniform of the 
 British regulars. 
 
 From Wills's Creek Colonel Wash- 
 ington was sent to Williamsburg to 
 bring four thousand pounds (about 
 $20,000) to pay the troops. An escort 
 of eight men was detailed to convoy the 
 iron chest containing the gold. Of 
 their courage he wrote : 
 
 "Eight men were two days assem- 
 bling, but I believe they would not have 
 been more than as many seconds dis- 
 persing if I had been attacked." 
 
 The Virginian was almost ill over the 
 slow progress of Braddock and his 
 army. After his return with the treas- 
 ure chest he wrote in confidence, to his 
 brother : 
 
 "I found that instead of pushing on 
 
 with vigor, without regarding a little 
 
 rough road, they were halting to level 
 
 every molehill, and to erect bridges over 
 
 74. 
 
BRADDOCK'S AIDE 
 
 every brook, by which means we were 
 four days in getting twelve miles." 
 
 This "creeping paralysis" seems to 
 have affected the stalwart colonel's 
 nerves. He lapsed into a raging fever 
 and had to be carted through the forest 
 in a lumbering wagon. He was finally 
 left behind with a physician, too ill to 
 be moved farther. The fear lest he 
 should fail to be "in at the death" after 
 all, made him slip out, more dead than 
 alive, and ride furiously after the army. 
 He caught up just in time to dash into 
 the thickest of a battle. He had lost 
 his hat, and his pallor and hollow, fever- 
 lighted eyes made his face look like a 
 frantic death's-head. 
 
 The Indians, superstitious of all 
 strange manifestations, and especially 
 of insanity, were afraid of him. He rode 
 like a demon, reckless of whistling bul- 
 lets and flying tomahawks. In spite of 
 everything, Braddock formed his troops 
 75 
 
HEART OF Washington 
 
 in platoons, where they were crowded 
 together, without elbow room, their 
 bright red uniforms a shining mark for 
 French and savages who surrounded 
 them and shot them down like so many 
 manikins. 
 
 Dazed by the devilish din all around 
 them, the Enghsh regulars stood a few 
 moments, only to see their comrades 
 falling on every side — ^then they broke 
 and ran in all directions, shot down, or 
 tomahawked and scalped, without mak- 
 ing the least resistance. There were 
 only two hundred French soldiers and 
 six hundred Indians, but they killed 
 seven hundred English regulars, of 
 whom eighty-six were officers. Brad- 
 dock himself was mortally wounded, 
 and died cursing his stupid obstinacy in 
 not following his young aide's advice. 
 The only real fighting done that day 
 was by those objects of British sneers, 
 the "raw American militia." 
 76 
 
BRADDOCK'S AIDE 
 
 So many of the officers were killed or 
 wounded that as soon as Braddock fell 
 the Virginia colonel took command and 
 allowed the men to fight Indian fashion. 
 He dashed hither and thither, with such 
 utter abandon that the Indians thought 
 he was charmed by magic so that they 
 could not hit him. He had two horses 
 shot under him and four bullets through 
 his coat. He cursed the frantic regu- 
 lars and struck them with the flat of 
 his sword, but it was useless ; they were 
 too frightened to fight with "devils 
 straight from hell." 
 
 Of their conduct Washington wrote : 
 
 *'The dastardly behavior of the regu- 
 lar troops (so-called) exposed those 
 who were inclined to do their duty to 
 almost certain death. I tremble at the 
 consequence this defeat may have upon 
 our back settlers." 
 
 The next day Colonel Washington, 
 reared in the Church of England, read 
 77 
 
HEART OF WASHINGTON 
 
 the burial service over the hoUowed-out 
 log in which the body of poor, pompous, 
 insulting General Braddock was laid to 
 rest. Then they beat a retreat to Fort 
 Cumberland, lately erected on Wills's 
 creek, from which place he wrote to his 
 best beloved brother to correct a report 
 of his death and burial, which sounds a 
 little hke Mark Twain's comment that 
 the report of his own death was "grossly 
 exaggerated I" 
 
 78 
 
"HEART OF MY HEART" 
 
 Late in July, 1755, Colonel Washing- 
 ton returned home, weak from fever, 
 and smarting after undeserved defeat. 
 But he was not allowed to rest. In the 
 first place the wealthy young Virginia 
 planter had added to his military laurels 
 and had become a hero of the first order. 
 He soon received an appointment as 
 commander-in-chief of the Virginia 
 forces. After Braddock's defeat, In- 
 dians went on the warpath all along 
 the Ohio frontier, and appalling stories 
 came to the eastern shore that the sav- 
 ages were "killing and destroying all be- 
 fore them," and fleeing neighbors re- 
 ported that when they left their homes 
 they heard "constant firing and the 
 shrieks of the unhappy men murdered." 
 79 
 
HEART OI^ASHINGTON 
 
 Military affairs in the colony were in 
 a turmoil. No one knew what to do. 
 Young Washington looked on in con- 
 sternation, feeling his inability to stem 
 the tide. His friends sought to encour- 
 age him. Colonel Fairfax wrote: 
 "Your good health and future are the 
 toast of every table." And the 
 Speaker of the House of Burgesses sent 
 him this word: 
 
 "Our hopes, dear George, are all 
 fixed on you." 
 
 But "dear George" had to have an- 
 other reckoning with his mother. The 
 four bullets which had passed through 
 his coat pierced her mother-heart. 
 Again she entreated him to give up run- 
 ning into constant danger. He wrote 
 in reply: 
 
 "If it is in my power to avoid going 
 to the Ohio again, I shall, but if the com- 
 mand is pressed upon me by the general 
 voice of the country, and offered upon 
 80 
 
"HEART OF MY HEART" 
 
 such terms as cannot be objected 
 against, it would reflect dishonor upon 
 me to refuse it." 
 
 It is at least interesting to conjecture 
 what might have become of the United 
 States of America if George Washing- 
 ton had listened again to his mother's 
 appeals to stay in safety on his Vir- 
 ginia plantation. 
 
 The foohsh, crotchety, Scotch gov- 
 ernor, Dinwiddle, mixed matters mili- 
 tary very badly indeed, and subjected 
 Colonel Washington to annoyances 
 which he was not disposed to brook. 
 So, to settle the question of the relative 
 rank of colonial and crown officers, 
 the handsome young colonel and his 
 suite rode five hundred miles to Boston 
 town to have the matter decided by Gen- 
 eral Shirley, commander-in-chief of all 
 British forces in America. 
 
 In New York, Colonel Washington 
 was taken to call on Mary Philipse, at 
 81 
 
HEART OF WASHINGTON 
 
 that day the wealthiest heiress in 
 America. A tall handsome man of 
 twenty-three, courteous, dignified, care- 
 ful in his dress, and really devoted to the 
 fair sex, he was a highly eligible candi- 
 date for matrimonial honors. It is said 
 that he proposed marriage to Miss Phil- 
 ipse, but that is not likely. 
 
 Though he was much sought after as 
 a man of wealth and a hero, his natural 
 delicacy and reserve would prevent him 
 from proposing marriage to a compara- 
 tive stranger, however attractive, and 
 especially to a young heiress, as he 
 might be the more suspected of enter- 
 taining mercenary motives. 
 
 The Virginia colonel was honored 
 and feasted in Boston where his fame 
 had preceded him. Governor Shir- 
 ley's decision was in favor of him and 
 of all colonial officers, making their rank 
 equal to those of the same grade ap- 
 pointed by the crown. So Colonel 
 82 
 
'HEART OF MY HEART" 
 
 Washington returned successful not 
 only for himself but for his brother offi- 
 cers also. 
 
 While he was absent there was an 
 Indian uprising on the western bound- 
 ary of his command. After returning 
 to Mount Vernon the commander-in- 
 chief, hurrying to the frontier, was met 
 by a company of men and women driven 
 from their homes by the savages. Of 
 these he wrote in terms reflecting rare 
 credit upon the martyr spirit of a mili- 
 tary officer of twenty-six: 
 
 ''I am too little acquainted with pa- 
 thetic language to attempt a description 
 of the people's distress but I would be 
 a willing offering to savage fury and 
 die by inches to save a people." 
 
 While riding to and fro between Wil- 
 liamsburg and Winchester, his frontier 
 headquarters, he met at her estate 
 known as "White House," Mrs. Martha 
 Dandridge Custis, the young widow of 
 83 
 
HEART O? WASHINGTON 
 
 a wealthy planter and merchant. The 
 courtship progressed as rapidly as pos- 
 sible in those decorous days, so that 
 when Washington was called to lead an 
 expedition to regain possession of Fort 
 Duquesne, at the forks of the Ohio, he 
 penned this hasty note to his betrothed : 
 
 "We have begun our march to the 
 Ohio. A courier is starting for Wil- 
 liamsburg, and I embrace this oppor- 
 tunity to send a few words to one whose 
 life is now inseparable from mine. 
 
 "Since that happy hour when we 
 made our pledges to each other, my 
 thoughts have been continually going 
 to you as another self. That an All- 
 powerful Providence may keep us both 
 in safety is the prayer of your ever faith- 
 ful and affectionate friend, 
 
 "G" Washington." 
 
 They found Fort Duquesne deserted 
 and destroyed by fire. Planting the 
 84 
 
"HEART OF MY HEART" 
 
 Union Jack on the blackened ruins, 
 Washington returned home to prepare 
 for his marriage. The wedding took 
 place in an English chapel near Mrs. 
 Custis's estate. The bride was known 
 as the wealthiest and most beautiful 
 woman in all Virginia. She was dressed 
 with great elegance, in silk, satin and 
 rare jewels. The groom was dressed in 
 blue and silver with scarlet trimmings, 
 with gold buckles at his knees and on his 
 shoes. He rode beside her coach-and- 
 six on horseback, and the wedding party 
 made a brilliant and stately cavalcade 
 as it climbed the hill under the tall elms 
 of Mount Vernon to the veranda over- 
 looking the broad Potomac. 
 
 85 
 
BENEDICT AND PLANTER 
 
 Colonel Washington now thought his 
 fighting days were over. For sixteen 
 years he was the happy henedict and 
 Virginia planter, looking after the de- 
 tails of his vast estates and taking care 
 of his wife's great interests. He was 
 soon elected to the House of Burgesses, 
 one of the first representative bodies in 
 America. On taking his seat in that 
 august body, the Speaker took occasion 
 to thank him for his splendid services to 
 his country. Colonel Washington rose 
 to respond, and stood, blushing and 
 stammering, until the Speaker relieved 
 him by saying: 
 
 "Sit down, Mr. Washington. Your 
 modesty equals your valor, and that sur- 
 86 
 
BENEDICT AND PLANTER 
 
 passes the power of any language I pos- 
 sess." 
 
 Letters are still preserved in which 
 Washington writes for sugar plums for 
 little Martha, or "Patsy" Custis, who 
 died while a young girl. Papa Wash- 
 ington, who never had any children of 
 his own, was a kind, indulgent step- 
 father. He was also a good friend and 
 neighbor. He looked after everything 
 himself, usually riding a round of fif- 
 teen miles a day, doing his duty faith- 
 fully as overseer and manager. Be- 
 sides all these and his social duties, for 
 he was now a bright and shining light 
 among the "First Families of Virginia," 
 he looked after the interests of the sol- 
 diers who had been under his command. 
 
 One man, a major who had been re- 
 proved for cowardice at Great Mea- 
 dows, thought he had been omitted from 
 the distribution of land given by the 
 87 
 
HEART OF Washington 
 
 government to all who had participated 
 in that campaign, and wrote Washing- 
 ton an insulting letter about it. The 
 Colonel's reply was vigorous : 
 
 "Your impertinent letter was deliv- 
 ered to me yesterday. As I am not 
 accustomed to receive such from any 
 man, nor would have taken such lan- 
 guage from you personally without let- 
 ting you feel some marks of my resent- 
 ment, I would advise you to be cautious 
 in writing me a second of the same 
 tenor. But for your stupidity and sot- 
 tishness you might have known, by at- 
 tending to a public gazette, that you had 
 your full quantity of ten thousand acres 
 of land allotted you. But suppose you 
 had fallen short, do you think your 
 superlative merit entitles you to a 
 greater indulgence than others? 
 
 "All my concern is that I ever en- 
 gaged in behalf of so ungrateful a fel- 
 low as you are." 
 
 88 
 
CONGRESS AND COMMANDER 
 
 Not content with insulting the colo- 
 nies with her stupid arrogance, Eng- 
 land began to lay her plans to force 
 them to pay a share of the enormous ex- 
 pense of the Seven Years' War abroad, 
 — besides that involved in defending her 
 own borders. 
 
 The passing of the Stamp Act lashed 
 the troubled waters of America into 
 such fury that it was repealed to save 
 the Ship of State. Then minor taxes 
 were levied — on paint, glass, etc. — ^then 
 on tea. It was not the amount but the 
 principle of the thing that the colonists 
 minded — ^the slavery of taxation with- 
 out having any say in the matter, as if 
 the colonists were mere children or 
 slaves. 
 
 Patrick Henry, a Virginia neighbor, 
 89 
 
HEART Of^WASHINGTON 
 
 sounded the war cry, "Give me liberty 
 or give me death," which spread over all 
 the colonies as rapidly as a prairie fire. 
 
 Beneath his imputed coldness, the 
 love of liberty burned at white heat in 
 Washington's passionate heart. Usu- 
 ally a silent man in public delibera- 
 tions, he arose in a convention assem- 
 bled at Williamsburg to take action 
 upon the English attempt to starve re- 
 bellious Boston into submission. His 
 utterance on this occasion was pro- 
 nounced "the most eloquent speech ever 
 made." With a diffidence almost pain- 
 ful he stammered : 
 
 "I will raise a thousand men, subsist 
 them at my own expense, and march 
 them to the relief of Boston." 
 
 Colonel Washington was elected a 
 delegate to the first Continental Con- 
 gress at Philadelphia. He attended the 
 meetings, a silent spectator and adviser, 
 tiptoeing about in his Colonel's uniform, 
 90 
 
CONGR ESS AND COMMANDER 
 
 but he was pointed out as the famous 
 Virginia planter who had done heroic 
 things for his country, and reputed to 
 be one of the richest men in America. 
 
 While listening mechanically to John 
 Adams's speech one memorable day, not 
 dreaming of its import, he was startled 
 by hearing his own name, followed by 
 the motion that he be made Commander- 
 in-chief of the Continental forces. In 
 a sudden accession of shyness he jumped 
 up and rushed out of the room. In 
 spite of his modesty he was unani- 
 mously elected. 
 
 As General Washington, the Com- 
 mander-in-chief, he did not have to ap- 
 pease his mother, but there was his wife, 
 Martha. His first thought was of her, 
 and sitting down immediately after 
 leaving the Congress he wrote at once 
 to break the painful news to her: 
 
 *'You may beheve me, my dear Patsy, 
 when I assure you that, so far from 
 91 
 
HEART OF Washington 
 
 seeking this appointment, I have used 
 every endeavor in my power to avoid it, 
 not only from my unwilHngness to part 
 with you and the family, but from a 
 consciousness of its being a trust too 
 great for my capacity, and that I should 
 enjoy more real happiness in one month 
 with you at home than I have the most 
 distant prospect of finding abroad, if 
 my stay were to be seven times seven 
 years. 
 
 "I shall feel no pain from the toil and 
 dangers of the campaign; my unhappi- 
 ness will flov/ from the uneasiness I 
 know you will feel from being left 
 alone." 
 
 Two days after Washington's ap- 
 pointment in Philadelphia, the battle of 
 Bunker Hill was fought near Boston. 
 On his way there, escorted by a troop of 
 horsemen, he met a messenger bring- 
 ing the news to Congress. 
 92 
 
CONGRESS AND COMMANDER 
 
 "Did our provincials stand the fire of 
 the regular troops?" he asked anxiously. 
 
 "That they did, and held their own 
 fire in reserve until the enemy was 
 within eight rods." 
 
 "Then the liberties of the country are 
 safe!" he exclaimed. 
 
 General Washington took command 
 on Cambridge Common. One writing 
 of that time describes him as follows : 
 
 "A gallant soldier he was. Under 
 the Cambridge elm that warm July 
 morning, he was what we call an impos- 
 ing figure. He was tall, stalwart and 
 erect, with thick brown hair drawn back 
 into a queue, as all gentlemen then wore 
 it, with a rosy face and a clear, bright 
 eye — a strong, a healthy, a splendid- 
 looking man in his uniform of blue and 
 buff, an epaulet on each shoulder; and 
 in his three-cornered hat, the cockade of 
 liberty." 
 
 Washington's command was a mot- 
 93 
 
HEART OF^ASHINGTON 
 
 ley mob of everything but soldiers, as 
 in the children's button charm, which 
 begins: "Rich man, poor man, beggar 
 man, thief, doctor, lawyer, merchant, 
 chief, tinker, tailor" — and farmer, in- 
 stead of "soldier, sailor" — and on 
 through the childish lingo. As to the 
 officers, the commander-in-chief himself 
 wrote that they were often mere politi- 
 cians who let their men do as they 
 pleased. 
 
 One day that summer he found a Vir- 
 ginia and a Marblehead company in 
 something like a riot. An eye-witness 
 relates : 
 
 "The General threw the bridle of his 
 horse into his servant's hands, and, rush- 
 ing into the thickest of the fight, seized 
 two tall, brawny riflemen by the throats, 
 keeping them at arms' length, talking 
 to, and shaking them." 
 
 After getting the men in order and 
 the siege fortifications under way, 
 94 
 
CONGRESS AND COMMANDER 
 
 Washington discovered, to his great 
 consternation, that there had been a 
 terrible oversight and his soldiers had 
 only nine rounds of ammunition apiece. 
 
 This was appalling! What if the 
 British should sally forth from Boston 
 and attack them? Without daring to 
 tell a soul of it, he secretly detached men 
 to scour the country for gunpowder, 
 even sending a fast ship to Bermuda to 
 seize a supply he had heard was stored 
 there. Meanwhile before the army he 
 kept up a game of bluff in which he was 
 an adept. 
 
 While suffering this fearful appre- 
 hension. General Washington happened 
 to see from an upper window "Old 
 Put," as bluff General Putnam was 
 called, approaching headquarters with a 
 big, fat woman he had taken prisoner 
 as a spy, astride his horse in front of 
 him. 
 
 General Putnam's serious face, while 
 95 
 
HEART dP WASHINGTON 
 
 bringing such a prisoner of war, ap- 
 pealed to Washington's sense of humor 
 so that he laughed, as he often did, till 
 the tears ran down his cheeks. Yet 
 when "Old Put" arrived and presented 
 the creature, the superior officer's face 
 was a model of gravity. This incident 
 served to relieve the terrible tension of 
 those long weeks of suspense. 
 
 On the first of January, 1776, Wash- 
 ington raised, over his headquarters in 
 Cambridge, the flag of the United 
 Colonies, consisting of thirteen red and 
 white stripes for the thirteen colonies 
 and the British double cross in the can- 
 ton, showing that the people were then 
 fighting for their rights as subjects of 
 the crown, and not for separation from 
 the Mother Country. At that time the 
 king's speech was being promulgated in 
 Boston containing insulting threats for 
 the rebels in arms against their sover- 
 eign. Of this Washington wrote: 
 96 
 
CONGRESS AND COMMANDER 
 
 "Before the proclamation came to 
 hand we had hoisted the Union flag in 
 comphment to the United Colonies. 
 But behold ! It was received in Boston 
 as a token of the deep impression the 
 speech had made upon us, and as a sig- 
 nal of submission. 
 
 "By this time, I presume they begin 
 to think it strange we have not made a 
 formal surrender of our lives !" 
 
 Those ragged regiments under the 
 patient masterfulness of their com- 
 mander-in-chief slowly tightened the 
 coil around Boston, and when they had 
 acquired powder enough, they bom- 
 barded it and drove the British out of 
 the city. The British leaders were at a 
 theater witnessing a burlesque on "the 
 cowardice of the Yankees," when the 
 cannonading began. 
 
 Edward Everett Hale, "the first citi- 
 zen of Boston" a century later, told a 
 story of Washington, after his entry 
 97 
 
HEART OlTWASHINGTON 
 
 into that city, and while staying at a 
 tavern which General Howe had made 
 his headquarters. Always fond of 
 children, he made a pet of the inn-keep- 
 er's daughter. Holding the httle girl 
 on his knee, General Washington asked 
 her: 
 
 "Now that you have seen the soldiers 
 on both sides, which do you like the 
 best?" 
 
 The child, who, like himself, could not 
 tell a lie, replied : 
 
 "I like the *red-coats' best." 
 
 This answer made the General laugh 
 and he said, indulgently: 
 
 "Yes, my dear, the red-coats do look 
 the best, but it takes the ragged boys to 
 do the fighting." 
 
 After the evacuation of Boston, Gen- 
 eral Washington wrote to "dear Jack:" 
 
 "The want of arms and powder is not 
 peculiar to Virginia. This country, of 
 98 
 
CONGRESS AND COMMANDER 
 
 which doubtless you have heard large 
 and flattering accounts, is more defi- 
 cient in both than you can conceive and 
 I have been obliged to submit to all the 
 insults of the enemy's cannon for want 
 of powder, keeping what little we had 
 for pistol distance. 
 
 *'I beheve I may with truth aifirm 
 that no man, perhaps, ever commanded 
 under more difficult circumstances. To 
 enumerate the circumstances would fill 
 a volume. ... 
 
 "As I am now nearly at my eighth 
 page, I think it time to conclude; espe- 
 cially as I set out with prefacing the lit- 
 tle time I had for friendly correspond- 
 ences. I shall only add, therefore, my 
 affectionate regards to my sister and 
 the children, and compliments to 
 friends ; and that I am, with every senti- 
 ment of true affection, your loving 
 brother and faithful friend, 
 
 "George." 
 99 
 
THE FLAG AND THE DECLARATION 
 
 Washington was not like an Indian, 
 who likes to remain and gorge or gloat 
 over his great victory. His work in 
 New England was done. He lost no 
 time in sending his army to the next 
 scene of conflict, New York. 
 
 Even here he had to take command 
 of a "badly armed, undisciplined, dis- 
 orderly rabble." Most of the troops 
 there were an aggregation of farmers 
 and militia, armed only with the guns 
 they happened to have in their homes. 
 
 Soon after arriving in New York, 
 General Washington was invited by 
 John Hancock, still president of the 
 Continental Congress, to come to Phil- 
 adelphia and consult with the leaders 
 100 
 
THE DECLARATION 
 
 about breaking with and separating 
 from the Mother Country. 
 
 It was during this advisory visit that 
 Washington was appointed chairman 
 of a secret committee to devise a stand- 
 ard to take the place of the flag of the 
 United Colonies. It was appropriate 
 that this should be assigned to him, but 
 as he was not then a member of the 
 Congress, no record was made of the 
 matter. 
 
 The story of Betsy Ross, the little 
 Quaker upholsterer and seamstress, has 
 been confirmed. General Washington 
 called at her little home with Robert 
 Morris and George Ross to order the 
 first flag made in case the Congress 
 should pass a resolution making thir- 
 teen States of the thirteen Colonies. 
 The design he showed the buxom widow 
 contained thirteen six-pointed white 
 stars in a circle on a blue field, to take 
 the place of the British union of crosses. 
 101 
 
HEART OF WASHINGTON 
 
 The stripes remained the same as in the 
 United Colonies flag. Mrs. Ross's ac- 
 count of the changing of the design, 
 from the six-pointed British star to a 
 five-pointed star, which was original and 
 easier to cut, must have been correct. 
 
 It is sometimes stated that Washing- 
 ton modified his own family coat-of- 
 arms for the Flag of the United States. 
 The resemblance is too far-fetched, es- 
 pecially considering that he had six- 
 pointed stars in his design at first. The 
 colonies were revolting against a mon- 
 archy, with all its heraldry and heredi- 
 tary titles, and Washington was not the 
 kind of man to foist his own family crest 
 upon a new nation. 
 
 Also this flag was to be the first ban- 
 ner of the people — the standard of 
 liberty — and citizens were to be free to 
 arrange the stars as they chose, in token 
 of popular liberties. Washington ex- 
 pressed his own beautiful sentiment con- 
 102 
 
THE DECLARATION 
 
 cerning the Flag, which in itself should 
 prove that he had no thought of his 
 own family coat-of -arms : 
 
 "We take the star from Heaven, the 
 red from our Mother Country, separat- 
 ing it by white stripes, thus showing that 
 we have separated from her, and the 
 white stripes shall go down to posterity 
 representing liberty." 
 
 General Washington returned to his 
 headquarters at New York, June 6th, 
 so he had no part in the historic scenes 
 of the Congress when debating, passing, 
 and signing the Declaration of Inde- 
 pendence; but he did more than any 
 man there to make the United States of 
 America a free and independent nation. 
 
 While he was in New York waiting 
 for action, a plot to kidnap him was 
 frustrated, and Thomas Hickey, the 
 treacherous member of his guard, was 
 tried by court martial and hanged in the 
 presence of twenty thousand spectators 
 103 
 
HEART OF WASHINGTON 
 
 for his "most barbarous and infernal 
 plot." 
 
 After the proclamation of the Dec- 
 laration of Independence in the leading 
 cities, the English king and his ministry 
 began to see what a mistake they had 
 made, and Lord Howe was authorized 
 to open negotiations for some kind of a 
 compromise. Not wishing to recognize 
 Washington as anything but the leader 
 of a mob of rebels, they addressed a 
 letter to "Mr." George Washington, 
 This the General's secretary would not 
 receive. Then an officer appeared with 
 a communication for "George Wash- 
 ington, Esq., etc., etc." Though the 
 officer was received with scrupulous 
 courtesy, the letter was not accepted. 
 
 "But the 'etc., etc' implies every- 
 thing'' urged the official messenger. 
 
 "It may also mean anything!" said 
 General Washington, with a hearty 
 laugh. 
 
 104 
 
THE DECLARATION 
 
 A gentleman at headquarters relates 
 an example of the unfailing courtesy 
 and good humor Washington mani- 
 fested, whenever he could, toward his 
 chief enemy. 
 
 "One day a fine sporting dog, which 
 was evidently lost, came to ask for some 
 dinner. On its collar were the words. 
 General Howe, It was the British 
 commander's dog! It was sent back 
 under a flag of truce, with the following 
 note : 
 
 " 'General Washington to General 
 Howe, — does himself the pleasure to re- 
 turn him a dog, which accidentally fell 
 into his hands, and by the inscription 
 on the collar, appears to belong to Gen- 
 eral Howe.' 
 
 ^'General Howe replied by a warm 
 letter of thanks to this act of courtesy 
 on the part of his enemy, our general." 
 
 In spite of these little courtesies 
 Washington wanted it distinctly under- 
 105 
 
HEART of WASHINGTON 
 
 stood that the pardoning power of Lord 
 Howe was too late and it was utterly 
 useless to extend it, as the provincials 
 were doing no wrong in fighting for 
 their inalienable rights. 
 
 Those were "the times that try men s 
 souls," and especially was the great soul 
 of George Washington severely tested. 
 Of his sore trials as commander-in-chief 
 old John Adams, "the Father of the 
 Revolution," said at this time : 
 
 "It requires more serenity of temper, 
 a deeper understanding, and more 
 courage than fell to the lot of Marlbor- 
 ough, to ride in this whirlwind." 
 
 106 
 
DEFEATS AND RETREATS 
 
 The American army, if it could be 
 called such, had to defend too much ter- 
 ritory against the superior and trained 
 forces of the enemy. Defeat and cap- 
 ture seemed inevitable. But the troops 
 fought heroically, and Washington, the 
 subtle strategist, planned such masterly 
 retreats that they proved, in the long 
 run, to be victories. 
 
 The morning after the battle of Long 
 Island the British General "put out his 
 hand to take the nest of rebels," as he 
 called it, "but the birds had flown." 
 There had seemed to be no escape. 
 Washington and his brave little army 
 were surrounded and certain to be taken 
 prisoners in the morning. That would 
 end the war in favor of the British. 
 107 
 
HEART OF WASHINGTON 
 
 But a thick fog came up during the 
 late August night. The General, al- 
 ways alert, seized the opportunity. 
 Setting a company of Massachusetts 
 fishermen and sailors to work, he got to- 
 gether all the river craft (rendered use- 
 less for other purposes by the fog) and 
 effected their escape to the main land 
 before the enemy suspected what was 
 going on. Soon after this stroke of 
 genius he wrote of his policy: 
 
 "It would be presumption to draw 
 our young troops into open ground 
 against their superiors both in number 
 and discipline, and I have never spared 
 the spade and pick-axe." 
 
 This was the secret of Washington's 
 success. He knew how to use the 
 means at hand. He had learned that 
 often a spade is better than a bayonet, 
 and a pick-axe more useful than a 
 sword. 
 
 In September there was an encounter 
 108 
 
DEFEATS AND RETREATS 
 
 with the British at Kip's Bay. Two or 
 three of his regiments, panic-stricken, 
 broke and started to run, but Washing- 
 ton, white with wrath, headed them off 
 with pistols, threatening to shoot them, 
 and striking them with the flat of his 
 sword — so by frightening them more 
 than all the British, he drove them back 
 into their intrenchments. 
 
 There was a short, sharp, decisive 
 skirmish at White Plains and another 
 retreat. Then came the loss of Fort 
 Washington with twenty-six hundred 
 men and all the munitions of war. This 
 was a catastrophe which meant irre- 
 trievable ruin to the cause of freedom in 
 America. 
 
 Yet even this shattering of his hopes 
 did not hurt his father-heart hke seeing 
 his beloved men wounded and dying. 
 Before entering the hopeless battle of 
 Long Island he had clenched teeth and 
 fists, as he muttered to Heaven, "Good 
 109 
 
HEART OI^WASHINGTON 
 
 God, what brave fellows I must this day- 
 lose!" So here, helpless, on the oppo- 
 site side of the Hudson, he stood watch- 
 ing the fortunes of war through a spy- 
 glass, crying out and sobbing as he saw 
 the British cutting and slashing his dear 
 soldiers with their bayonets until, tear- 
 blinded and heartsick, he could see no 
 more. Yet the Father of His Country 
 is known to millions of his children as 
 cold, distant, and pompous like a statue 
 of stone or ice! 
 
 110 
 
f TURNING THE TIDE 
 
 Heroic manhood is but one form of 
 that eternal verity which, "crushed to 
 earth, will rise again." Truth, in this 
 case, had to get up and run, for Wash- 
 ington is next seen flying across New 
 Jersey at the head of the remnant of an 
 army described as a "hopeless gang of 
 tramps." They were running away, 
 hoping against hope that they might 
 "live to fight another day." Sometimes 
 their pursuers were so close on their 
 heels that they were entering a village 
 at one side while Washington and his 
 "ragged rebels" were leaving it at the 
 other. Once they gained time by cross- 
 ing the river and destroying all the 
 boats, so that the British could not fol- 
 low. 
 
 Ill 
 
HEART oF WASHINGTON 
 
 One night a little girl in a house where 
 Washington had found refuge begged 
 to see the strange man harbored there 
 for the night. The General smiled 
 sadly at her curiosity, and said: 
 
 "Well, my dear, you see a very tired 
 man in a very dirty shirt !" 
 
 As soon as he gained a little breathing 
 space ahead of the British, Washington 
 began to plan a side attack which might 
 turn the tables and retrieve the fortunes 
 of the Revolution. Staking all on a 
 desperate throw, he sent a brief message, 
 two days ahead, to Colonel Cadwalader, 
 informing him that he was going to sur- 
 prise and capture some hired Hessians 
 by doing what seemed to be impossible 
 — crossing the Delaware through a mass 
 of great cakes of floating ice. 
 
 This was Washington's order: 
 
 "Christmas Day at night, one hour 
 before day, is the time fixed for the at- 
 tempt on Trenton. For Heaven's sake, 
 112 
 
TURNING THE TIDE 
 
 keep this to yourself, as the discovery of 
 it may prove fatal to us." 
 
 It was a desperately brilliant stroke. 
 With '^Victory or Death!" for the 
 countersign, they crossed the river in 
 a blinding storm. The surprise was 
 complete, the battle was won and the 
 tide of the Revolution was turned. Al- 
 most the only losses on the American 
 side were those of men frozen to death 
 on that bitter cold night. One of the 
 prisoners taken at Trenton recorded of 
 Washington that "His eyes have scarce 
 any fire." How could they after his 
 sleepless, haunting experiences, leading 
 a tattered army which the enemy tracked 
 by the blood spots left upon the snow 
 by the soldiers' feet? No wonder those 
 deep, serene, blue-gray eyes had lost 
 their fire — yet the fervent fires in Wash- 
 ington's heart could not be extinguished. 
 
 The victory at Trenton was oppor- 
 tune. It had a tonic effect, not only 
 113 
 
HEART 0:^WASHINGTON 
 
 on the commander-in-chief, but also on 
 the men whose time would be up on the 
 first of January, and who must be paid, 
 especially if they were to be induced to 
 reenlist. Coward Congress was giving 
 up the struggle as hopeless. Not only 
 was Washington fighting the British 
 single-handed, but he was suffering 
 more from the Congress than from the 
 enemy. He had been paying the men 
 out of his private fortune, and the 
 Congress was more than willing he 
 should. 
 
 But Washington, wealthy as he was, 
 had no more money at command. In a 
 new hope, born of the despair he had 
 just escaped, he wrote to Robert Mor- 
 ris, known as "the financier of the Rev- 
 olution," that the success of the cause 
 depended on his having fifty thousand 
 dollars by New Year's Day. 
 
 That staunch patriot arose early the 
 next morning, went out and raised the 
 114 
 
TURNIlSrG THE TIDE 
 
 money on his private note and his sacred 
 honor, sent it to Washington to save the 
 day and the country, and promised his 
 further support, personal as well as 
 official. 
 
 There was joy in Washington's heart, 
 and fire in his eye, when the men were 
 paid off that memorable New Year's 
 Day. Now there was hope for Liberty. 
 The British general, Cornwallis, had 
 followed and surrounded him at a bend 
 in the Delaware, still filled with blocks 
 of ice. Here another time the British 
 retired at night sure of their prey. 
 Cornwallis told some of his officers that 
 they would "bag the old fox in the morn- 
 ing." 
 
 But "the old fox" was not to be 
 caught napping. While Cornwallis 
 was asleep he crept out and around the 
 foe, beating part of the British force at 
 Princeton, January 3, 1777, before the 
 astounded British fox-hunter came up 
 115 
 
HEART oF WASHINGTON 
 
 — then Washington was ready to fight 
 him. The General alarmed his men 
 and officers by dashing along in front 
 within thirty yards of the British. One 
 of his colonels rushed into the battle 
 smoke after his chief. When the action 
 was over, finding the General still un- 
 hurt, he burst into tears and waved his 
 hat, shouting: "Thank God your Ex- 
 cellency is safe!" Washington, always 
 serene in the greatest danger, waved his 
 hat in returning the loyal salute, and 
 seizing the devoted officer by the hand 
 he exclaimed: 
 
 "Away, my dear colonel, and bring 
 up the troops — the day is our own!" 
 
 116 
 
IN THE VALLEY 
 
 The Congress, still wrangling and 
 back-biting, failed to support the army 
 in the field. In spite of his stout heart, 
 even Robert Morris's resources were 
 limited. On his way to fight Lord 
 Howe, Washington called at Morris's 
 office in Philadelphia. A clerk who 
 was present told this story of their in- 
 terview : 
 
 " 'Can you help us?' pleaded the com- 
 mander-in-chief in a voice husky with 
 emotion. 
 
 "Morris shook his head sadly, saying: 
 *I have used up my own means and 
 credit. I am deeply grieved to admit 
 that I can do nothing now— nothing!' 
 
 "General Washington, covering his 
 face with his large hands, so that the 
 117 
 
HEART OF WASHINGTON 
 
 fingers touched his forehead, burst into 
 an abandon of weeping, and as he sat 
 there sobbing, the tears trickled through 
 his fingers and dropped down his wrists. 
 But he soon gained his normal compos- 
 ure, arose and went out without a word. 
 Two days later, September 11, 1777, 
 Washington met Lord Howe at 
 Brandywine and was defeated." 
 
 The losing battle of Germantown fol- 
 lowed on October 4th. Washington 
 wrote of it to "Brother Jack" : 
 
 "The anxiety you have been under 
 on account of this army, I can easily 
 conceive. Would to God there had 
 been less cause for it! 
 
 "But for a thick fog, which rendered 
 it so infinitely dark at times as not to 
 distinguish friend from foe at the dis- 
 tance of thirty yards, we should, I be- 
 lieve, have made a glorious day of it. 
 But Providence or some unaccountable 
 118 
 
IN THE VALLEY 
 
 something designed it otherwise; for 
 after we had driven the enemy a mile or 
 two, after they were in the utmost con- 
 fusion and flying before us in most 
 places, after we were upon the point 
 (as it appeared to everybody) of grasp- 
 ing a complete victory, our own troops 
 took fright and fled in precipitation and 
 disorder. . . . 
 
 "Our distress on account of clothing 
 is great, and in a little time it must be 
 very sensibly felt, unless some expedi- 
 ent can be hit upon to obtain them. 
 
 "P. S. I had scarce finished this let- 
 ter, when by express from the State of 
 New York I received the important and 
 glorious news — of Burgoyne's surren- 
 der at Saratoga. 
 
 *'I most devoutly congratulate you, 
 my country and every well-wisher to the 
 cause, on this signal stroke of provi- 
 dence. 
 
 *'Yrs. as before" [George] 
 119 
 
HEART OF WASHINGTON 
 
 Their "great distress on account of 
 clothing" was "very sensibly felt" dur- 
 ing the "long and dreary winter" that 
 followed at Valley Forge. Howe and 
 the British were feasting and reveling 
 in Philadelphia, a score of miles away, 
 while many of Washington's brave sol- 
 diers were dying of exposure and star- 
 vation. 
 
 Not enough were the physical hard- 
 ships of that awful period, but a dispo- 
 sition of humankind was manifest, in 
 Congress and elsewhere, to "kick him 
 while he's down!" 
 
 Washington's noble generosity and 
 self-sacrificing patriotism weighed lit- 
 tle in the balance against the envy of his 
 bitter enemies ; he was also "hurt in the 
 house of his friends." Conspiracy was 
 at its height when his fortunes were at 
 their lowest. Jealous, ungrateful op- 
 position to Washington reached its 
 high-water mark in that hideous com- 
 120 
 
IN THE VALLEY 
 
 bination of enmity and treachery known 
 as the Conway Cabal. 
 
 While his hands were tied they lashed 
 his quivering flesh. The purpose of the 
 conspiracy was, as Washington himself 
 said, "that General Gates was to be ex- 
 alted on the ruin of my reputation and 
 influence." 
 
 During those heart-rending hours the 
 General, to the last a devout Church- 
 man, sought refuge in prayer. Canon 
 Sutherland has described him then: 
 
 "A show 
 To the disdainful,, heaven-blinded foe, 
 Unlauded, unsupported, disobeyed, 
 Thwarted, maligned, conspired against, betrayed. 
 Yet nothing could unheart him. Wouldst thou 
 
 know 
 His secret? There, in that thicket on the snow 
 Washington knelt before his God and prayed." 
 
 The cabal ended in an unexpected 
 
 way. General Conway was shot in a 
 
 duel, and thinking he had not long to 
 
 live, made this supposed deathbed con- 
 
 121 
 
HEART of WASHINGTON 
 
 f ession in the form of a letter to Wash- 
 ington: 
 
 'Thiladelphia, 23d July, 1778. 
 "Sir: 
 
 "I find myself just able to hold a pen 
 during a few minutes, and take the op- 
 portunity of expressing my sincere 
 grief for having done, written, or said 
 anything disagreeable to your Excel- 
 lency. My career will soon be over, 
 therefore justice and truth prompt me 
 to declare my last sentiments. You are 
 in my eyes the great and good man. 
 May you long enjoy the love, venera- 
 tion and esteem of these States, whose 
 liberties you have asserted by your vir- 
 tues. 
 
 "I am, with the greatest respect, &c., 
 "Thomas Conway." 
 
 122 
 
"WHOM CAN WE TRUST NOW?" 
 
 After Valley Forge came the battle 
 of Monmouth and the treachery of 
 General Charles Lee, in whose honesty 
 the commander-in-chief had reposed 
 great faith. Lee had been a British 
 prisoner and was lately released. Evi- 
 dently he had bargained to deliver 
 Washington and his army into the 
 hands of the enemy. This battle 
 seemed to suit his purpose. Instead of 
 advancing to the attack, as commanded, 
 he began to retreat. 
 
 The Rev. Dr. A. B. Hyde, late Vice- 
 Chancellor of Denver University, Colo- 
 rado, told the writer of his grandfather, 
 who was with General Washington 
 from Cambridge to Yorktown: 
 123 
 
HEART of^ WASHINGTON 
 
 "At the battle of Monmouth Grand- 
 father Hinckley was hardly ten yards 
 from the spot where Washington, com- 
 ing upon the scene, met Lee retreating. 
 
 " 'General Lee, you have disobeyed 
 my orders!' came loud and clear from 
 Washington's lips. 
 
 " 'By God, I have not!' yelled Lee. 
 
 '''By God, you have! Go to the 
 rear,' thundered Washington, with face 
 ablaze. Reforming with furious en- 
 ergy, he rescued and regained the day. 
 Calm histories soften the incident. I 
 give you what Grandfather Hinckley 
 said he heard and saw." 
 
 Though General Lee was disgraced, 
 there were many, as is usual in such in- 
 stances, who believed him innocent of 
 any criminal intent, though there was 
 no doubt of it in Washington's mind. 
 Eighty years afterward a document was 
 discovered which proved that Lee was 
 124 
 
"WHOM CAN WE TRUST?" 
 
 really trying to deliver Washington's 
 command into the power of the enemy 
 for a large bribe in British money and 
 preferment. 
 
 The winter which followed in en- 
 campment near Morristown, New Jer- 
 sey, exceeded the horrors, in some re- 
 spects, of that at Valley Forge. 
 
 Lafayette returned to France to join 
 forces with the French friends of lib- 
 erty and helped Franklin and his 
 colleagues in raising "sinews of war" 
 for the struggle in the United 
 States. 
 
 In the meantime Congress, petty and 
 jealous, was afraid General Washing- 
 ton might use his too-great popularity 
 to make himself military dictator, if not 
 emperor of the United States. It was 
 objected by that legislative body: 
 
 "That his influence was already too 
 great ; that even his virtues afforded mo- 
 tives for alarm; that the enthusiasm of 
 125 
 
HEART of' WASHINGTON 
 
 the army joined to the kind of dictator- 
 ship already confided to him, put Con- 
 gress and the United States at his 
 mercy; that it was not expedient to ex- 
 pose a man of the highest virtue to such 
 temptations." 
 
 Though his bitterest enemies in the 
 Conway cabal had been discomfited, 
 there were still many in and out of Con- 
 gress who were hostile to Washington. 
 Not all the people were patriots even 
 in those good old days. Greed, graft, 
 selfishness, and venality prevailed then, 
 and ghouls stood like buzzards, ready 
 to feed upon the apparently dying 
 cause. 
 
 Then came the treason of Arnold, 
 who had served his country with signal 
 bravery. 
 
 This stung the heart of his friend, 
 
 the commander-in-chief. When the 
 
 dispatch was handed to him it is said 
 
 that he read it and clasped his hands 
 
 126 
 
"WHOM CAN WE TRUST?" 
 
 above his head as he exclaimed, in an- 
 guish of spirit: 
 
 "Whom can we trust now?" 
 But the emotion passed quickly, and 
 Washington was again the stern, in- 
 flexible general, ordering and planning 
 to capture the traitor and bring his 
 British confederate, the brilliant and at- 
 tractive young Andre, to justice. Ar- 
 nold made his escape to the British and 
 Andre was executed, as the British had 
 hanged young Nathan Hale, an Ameri- 
 can patriot and spy. Yet sentimental- 
 ists made a gi^eat hue and cry over 
 Washington's hardness of heart in not 
 sparing young Andre, and a so-called 
 poetess wrote some vitriolic verses be- 
 ginning, "Remorseless Washington!" 
 
 127 
 
"GONE TO CATCH CORNWALLIS" 
 
 Gates, the general favored by Con- 
 gress, was sent south to stop the British 
 ravages and outrages there. He failed 
 signally, as Washington knew he would. 
 Meanwhile, glad tidings came from La- 
 fayette that France was to send soldiers, 
 ships, and treasure in aid of the cause of 
 liberty. But the promised French aid 
 was a long time on the way. Washing- 
 ton, chained to the neighborhood of 
 New York to watch Sir Henry Clinton, 
 was kept in constant torture, hearing of 
 the hngering fiasco in the South. On 
 learning that his nephew, then in charge 
 of Mount Vernon, had offered the Brit- 
 ish soldiers and sailors comfort and re- 
 freshment to save that beautiful estate, 
 he wrote: 
 
 128 
 
"TO CATCH CQRNWALLIS" 
 
 "Dear Lund: It would have been 
 a less painful circumstance to me to 
 have heard that, in consequence of your 
 non-compliance with their request, they 
 had burnt my house and laid the plan- 
 tation in ruins." 
 
 At last word came that the French 
 fleet would soon be in Virginia waters, 
 and Washington stole away from his 
 post near New York. He was well on 
 his way to Virginia before Clinton 
 missed him. As he and his men passed 
 quickly through Philadelphia, the peo- 
 ple cheered and shouted: "Long live 
 Washington! He has gone to catch 
 Cornwallis in his mouse-trap !" 
 
 The French met and cooperated with 
 Washington by land and sea, and Corn- 
 walhs was trapped in Yorktown. After 
 a long bombardment Cornwallis sur- 
 rendered, in October, 1781. The Brit- 
 ish troops marched out to the tune of 
 "The World Turned Upside Down." 
 129 
 
HEART (# WASHINGTON 
 
 At the time of the capitulation Wash- 
 ington announced to the American 
 troops : 
 
 "My brave fellows, let no sense of 
 satisfaction for the triumphs you have 
 gained induce you to insult your fallen 
 enemy. Let no shouting, no clamorous 
 huzzahing increase their mortification. 
 It is sufficient for us that we witness 
 their humiliation. Posterity will huz- 
 zah for us." 
 
 Men are learning in these last days 
 to love their enemies and how to "do 
 unto others," but George Washington 
 was a Knight of the Great Heart in the 
 eighteenth century. Not only did he 
 refuse to humiliate Cornwallis by re- 
 quiring him to surrender his sword, but 
 he gave a dinner in honor of his British 
 prisoner. In courtesy to his distin- 
 guished guest this toast had to be pro- 
 posed, "The King of England," which 
 Washington did with becoming gravity 
 130 
 
'^TO CATCH CORNWALLIS" 
 
 — adding a sentiment of his own, in an 
 undertone, "May he stay there!" with 
 such a mischievous expression that even 
 Cornwallis laughed, and became his 
 captor's friend for the rest of his life. 
 
 Through the thirteen States, the 
 watchmen on their rounds, after swift 
 messengers arrived from Yorktown, 
 making their usual midnight announce- 
 ment in the frosty air: "Twelve 
 o'clock and all is well," added "and 
 Cornwallis is taken!" 
 
 Among those who received the signal 
 tidings about the man he had loved, en- 
 couraged and aided in earlier days, was 
 Lord Fairfax, who remained a staunch 
 Tory to the end. The feeble old man 
 was so bitterly out of sympathy with his 
 former protege that, when he heard of 
 the surrender of the British, he called 
 to his colored body-servant: 
 
 "Come, Joe, carry me to bed, for it is 
 high time for me to die!" 
 131 
 
"THE BITTER END" 
 
 General Washington had to turn 
 away from the rejoicings of victory and 
 make haste to the bedside of his step- 
 son, Jack Custis, who was dying of con- 
 sumption. Beside the deathbed he 
 adopted Jack's two little children, 
 Nelly Custis, afterward "the daughter 
 of the nation," and George Washington 
 Parke Custis, who has left valuable 
 recollections of his foster-father's life. 
 
 American independence was tacitly 
 won, but peace was delayed by the slow 
 means of locomotion of that day, and 
 tedious forms which had to be gone 
 through. Yet there were triumphant 
 celebrations in all the centers of the new 
 nation. A grand ball was given in 
 General Washington's honor at Fred- 
 132 
 
"THE BITTER END" 
 
 ericksburg, where his old mother lived, 
 having moved into town from Ferry 
 Farm. He had provided a comfortable 
 home for her, as she was too exacting to 
 live with any of her children. She took 
 a querulous pride in having it under- 
 stood that whatever others might think 
 of her illustrious son, he was no better 
 than he ought to be, so she could not 
 quite approve of him. Also, that he 
 did not provide liberally out of his great 
 wealth for his mother! This annoyed 
 Washington exceedingly and was the 
 subject of several exasperated letters, 
 couched in stately terms, beginning 
 with "Honour'd Madam," and closing 
 with "Your affectionate son, George." 
 
 In one of them he gently explained 
 to her why he could not have her come 
 to live at Mount Vernon, where she 
 would have to change her dress often — 
 which she hated — and where his wife, 
 Martha, would brook no domineering. 
 133 
 
HEART OF WASHINGTON 
 
 The dear old lady could never quite for- 
 give her son George for refusing to al- 
 low her to manage his whole life for 
 him. 
 
 Perhaps the adulation Washington 
 appreciated most was that of Congress, 
 which had been harder to conquer than 
 the British. He had the satisfaction of 
 seeing that august and obdurate body at 
 his feet. 
 
 But the end was not yet. Washing- 
 ton had to go to Newburg. The Brit- 
 ish were still in New York and his dis- 
 contented army was too weak to drive 
 them out. Peace was under slow and 
 painful negotiation and there was still 
 no assurance that the articles would ever 
 be signed. The British commissioners 
 were foolish and arrogant. It was their 
 nature. The king was almost insane 
 and his hatred of Americans became 
 monomania. Dr. Franklin and his col- 
 leagues in Europe had to exercise cour- 
 134 
 
"THE BITTER END" 
 
 age, patience, and strategy similar to 
 those practised by the commander-in- 
 chief for six years in America. It took 
 more than a year after Yorktown to 
 conclude the peace. During this time 
 "the temper of the army" was, as Wash- 
 ington described it, "very much soured." 
 They lived on poor fare and did not re- 
 ceive their pay, even in depreciated con- 
 tinental money, of which the value had 
 fallen so low as to originate the con- 
 temptuous phrase, "Not worth a conti- 
 nental!" They were finally paid out of 
 money sent from France. 
 
 Afterward, realizing how much 
 Washington had done for the country 
 and how weak and ineffectual the gov- 
 ernment seemed to be, the representa- 
 tive of a large number of soldiers and 
 citizens sent him a letter proposing to 
 make him dictator, or even emperor, 
 if he would accept the honor. The re- 
 publican experiment had not yet been 
 135 
 
HEART OF WASHINGTON 
 
 tried successfully anywhere and people 
 could not help believing that any other 
 form of government than a monarchy 
 must end in failure. 
 
 Washington, instead of feeling flat- 
 tered, wrote an indignant reply, in part 
 as follows : 
 
 "I am much at a loss to conceive what 
 part of my conduct could have given 
 encouragement to an address which 
 seems to me big with the greatest mis- 
 chiefs that can befall my country. You 
 could not have found a person to whom 
 your schemes are more disagreeable." 
 
 At last the tidings of the signing of 
 the treaty came, and the war was actu- 
 ally at an end. The next day, April 
 19, 1783, was the eighth anniversary of 
 the first battle of the war. A solemn 
 celebration was held, at which a short 
 hymn, entitled "Independence," was 
 sung, of which this was the ringing re- 
 frain : 
 
 136 
 
THE BITTER END" 
 
 "No king but God! 
 No king but God!'* 
 
 Still there were many details for the 
 commander-in-chief to arrange before 
 leaving the army, to live quietly at home 
 — a boon he had not known for eight 
 years. During all that time of peril 
 and privation he had sighed constantly 
 for Mount Vernon, wife and home, 
 peace and happiness — to him an earthly 
 paradise. 
 
 It was in Fraunces' tavern, near 
 Whitehall Ferry, New York City, that 
 General Washington took final leave of 
 his companions in arms and partners in 
 distress. Choking with emotion, he 
 could not speak at first. Controlling 
 his voice by a supreme effort, he be- 
 gan: 
 
 "With a heart full of love and grati- 
 tude I take my leave of you, most de- 
 voutly wishing that your latter days 
 may be as prosperous and happy as 
 137 
 
HEART of^ WASHINGTON 
 
 your former ones have been glorious and 
 honorable." 
 
 Then there was a suffocating pause 
 before he could go on : 
 
 "I cannot come to each of you to take 
 my leave, but shall be obliged to you if 
 each will come and take me by the 
 hand." 
 
 His adopted son describes this scene: 
 "Knox, who stood nearest to him, 
 turned and grasped his hand, and, while 
 the tears flowed down the cheeks of 
 each, the commander-in-chief kissed 
 him. This he did to each of his officers 
 while tears and sobs stifled utterance." 
 
 A spectator tells of his departiu*e 
 from Whitehall slip : 
 
 "There he got into a barge. As he 
 rode away he stood up and lifted his 
 hat. All of us uncovered and remained 
 thus till he passed from sight to be seen 
 no more by many of those who gazed 
 sadly after his retreating form." 
 138 
 
'THE BITTER END" 
 
 The next step was to resign his com- 
 mission before Congress, then in session 
 at Annapolis, and render his account to 
 the government. This was for moneys 
 advanced by him in those immortal eight 
 years to facilitate the movements of the 
 army, over and above the expenses he 
 had pledged beforehand in that * 'elo- 
 quent" speech. It amounted to nearly 
 one hundred thousand dollars ! Great- 
 ness is not to be measured in money 
 terms. Washington's bill seems con- 
 temptibly small from a merely financial 
 point of view, but his credits in the reck- 
 oning were items of sublime import to 
 American patriotism. He gave his 
 own services to his country also, "with- 
 out money and without price." 
 
 A great Englishman afterward 
 showed the striking contrast between 
 George, about-to-be crowned king of 
 England, and that greater George, the 
 uncrowned emperor in America: 
 139 
 
HEART (f^ WASHINGTON 
 
 "Which was the most splendid spec- 
 tacle ever witnessed, the opening feast 
 of Prince George in London, or the 
 resignation of Washington? Which is 
 the most noble character for after ages 
 to admire — yon fribble dancing in laces 
 and spangles, or yonder hero who 
 sheathes his sword after a life of spot- 
 less honor, a purity tinreproached, a 
 courage indomitable, and a consummate 
 victory?" 
 
 But sweeter than all this and far 
 more to his credit, was the reply of 
 Congress to his valedictory address. 
 It was a noble testimonial — all that the 
 retiring general could have wished, and 
 was delivered by a former bitter enemy 
 — one of the Conway cabal! 
 
 As for the General who had been so 
 unjustly attacked while he needed all 
 this appreciation — ^he had a devoted, 
 forgiving heart, and "an angel might 
 have envied his feelings." 
 140 
 
LAUNCHING HIS OWN SHIP 
 
 It was a happy home-coming for 
 Washington, that Christmas Eve of 
 1783. It was his first chance to "sit 
 down" in eight long years of hardship, 
 exposure, hatred, and calumny "under 
 his own vine and fig-tree." He had 
 looked forward to this with almost hope- 
 less longing through all the dark hours 
 of the Revolution. 
 
 Jaick's children, Washington and 
 Nelly Custis, were small enough to re- 
 mind him of his first home-coming as a 
 yDung benedict, twenty- four years be- 
 fore. He had the greatest reason to be 
 happy. He had made and saved his 
 country, and forced even those who had 
 hated him to admit it. Although Von 
 Moltke, himself a master, has called 
 Washington one of the world's greatest 
 141 
 
HEART OF WASHINGTON 
 
 strategists, it was not by his battles that 
 he won the Revolution. It was by what 
 he was and what he did during the lin- 
 gering intervals while, hampered by 
 mutiny, tortured by calumny, stabbed 
 in the back by a dozen Brutuses, he kept 
 on planning, working, hoping, praying. 
 Thrice armed by the justice of his quar- 
 rel, he went on "in the teeth of clench'd 
 antagonisms to follow out the noblest 
 till he die." He was ready to die and 
 expected to, but he won. Relieved now 
 of public cares and responsibilities, he 
 was once more a private citizen in his 
 own home. This alone made him as 
 happy as a man just out of prison. 
 
 As an illustrious follower of the plow, 
 he became head of the Order of the Cin- 
 cinnati, and Mount Vernon became a 
 Mecca for the world, the home of "the 
 Cincinnatus of the West." 
 
 After years of mismanagement, his 
 own liberality, and the natural depre- 
 142 
 
LAUNCHING HIS OWN SHIP 
 
 elation due to the long war, his for- 
 tune was shattered, and Washington 
 found his estate badly in debt. Though 
 he died the second richest man in Amer- 
 ica, he was not rich at the end of the 
 Revolution. But he addressed himself 
 to retrieve his dissipated wealth with 
 the same determination that had set 
 him to work besieging Boston and bom- 
 barding Yorktown. 
 
 Ordinary problems and duties were a 
 pleasure to him. He rode a round of 
 fifteen miles a day superintending his 
 Mount Vernon estate. He had a won- 
 derful head for details, whether in order- 
 ing his own clothes or his wife's, or a 
 spinet or sugar plums for the children. 
 He wrote long letters every day and 
 copied them by hand. He even wrote 
 formal letters for his wife, who was not 
 a highly educated woman, and she 
 copied them faithfully, his bad spelling 
 and all! 
 
 143 
 
HEART df" WASHINGTON 
 
 He was land poor — owning vast 
 tracts of country in different States, 
 some of them discovered in his young 
 surveying years. He developed these 
 resources, selling thousands of acres 
 here and there to pay debts on the home 
 plantation. So carefully did he look 
 after the different departments of work 
 on his estates that it was said the brand 
 of George Washington's mill on a flour 
 barrel was recognized even in England 
 as the surest mark of excellence. 
 
 As there was no inn nearer than 
 Alexandria, the Washingtons had to en- 
 tertain as many guests as an ordinary 
 country hotel. They were often im- 
 posed upon, but they had rather suf- 
 fer than be found failing in hospitality. 
 Representatives of foreign potentates 
 came to see "the Sage of Mount Ver- 
 non." The king of Spain, anxious to 
 do honor to Washington, sent him a 
 pair of donkeys of high degree. Of 
 144 
 
LAUNCHING HIS OWN SHIP 
 
 this gift the "jack" greatly amused the 
 General. He referred to it several times 
 in his correspondence — once at least to 
 Lafayette. Why should His Majesty 
 consider a royal jackass an appropriate 
 present to send him? Was there any- 
 thing invidious in this? He would 
 like to name the solemn little beast for 
 the giver, if he dared. He called the 
 animal "Royal Gift." 
 
 Yet after all he had done for his 
 country, Washington could not be 
 spared. The States still had rival 
 rights and divided interests. They 
 were jealous of one another. He wrote 
 to Madison that the separate States 
 "were thirteen sovereignties pulling 
 against each other." There must be 
 some bond to unite all in common inter- 
 est — to make them, in fact as well as in 
 name, United States. 
 
 After four years of private life and 
 happiness, Washington was elected 
 145 
 
HEART O]^ WASHINGTON 
 
 president of a convention to formulate 
 a constitution to be adopted by all the 
 States. He was loath to leave home, 
 but where his country called he always 
 went. It was a long, hard task, but he 
 did his work well. Washington's word 
 was law until the Constitution of the 
 United States superseded it. 
 
 To him it was a terrible penalty he 
 
 paid — being elected first President of 
 
 the United States! The election was 
 
 unanimous and he had to accept. He 
 
 was to have been inaugurated on the 
 
 4th of March, 1789, but Congress was 
 
 delayed in getting together to complete 
 
 his formal election, so he could not be 
 
 notified legally until the 16th of April. 
 
 Of this he wrote to General Knox: 
 
 "The delay may be compared to a 
 
 reprieve; for in confidence I tell you 
 
 (in the world it would obtain little 
 
 credit) that my movements to the chair 
 
 of government will be accompanied by 
 
 146 
 
LAUNCHING HIS OWN SHIP 
 
 feelings not unlike those of a culprit 
 who is going to the place of execu- 
 tion." 
 
 His mother, in her eighty-second 
 year, was known to be dying of cancer. 
 Her son, the President-elect, called to 
 say good-by. Both knew it was their 
 last meeting. The adopted son, Wash- 
 ington Custis, gives this rather grandilo- 
 quent description of the final leave- 
 taking: 
 
 "The President 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 awful bearing. That 
 look, which could 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." 
 
 14.7 
 
HEART OF WASHINGTON 
 
 Washington made this sad entry in 
 his diary for the 16th of April, 1789: 
 
 "About ten o'clock I bade adieu to 
 Mount Vernon, to private life, and to 
 domestic felicity, and with a mind op- 
 pressed with more anxious and painful 
 sensations than I have words to ex- 
 press, set out for New York with the 
 best disposition to render service to my 
 country in obedience to its call, but with 
 less hope of answering its expectations." 
 
 The first President-elect's way to 
 New York was strewn with verses and 
 flowers, and allegoric ceremonies by 
 beautiful girls in white. On his arrival 
 in New York he was greeted with an 
 ovation. His inauguration was still 
 delayed to determine certain formali- 
 ties — what his title should be, and so on. 
 A number of authorities thought the 
 President should be referred to as 
 "High Mightiness," like a king's "Maj- 
 esty." But better sense prevailed. 
 148 
 
LAUNCHING HIS OWN SHIP 
 
 Everything about the repubhcan form 
 of government was new and strange. 
 
 Washington took the oath of office 
 on the 30th of April, 1789, on the bal- 
 cony of Federal Hall, corner of Wall 
 and Nassau streets. Then the judge 
 who administered the oath raised his 
 hand and announced him to the waiting 
 crowd in the street below. A flag was 
 run up over the cupola of the building, 
 bells were rung, cannon boomed, and 
 the people shouted: 
 
 "Long live George Washington, 
 President of the United States !" 
 
 There was much disagreement as to 
 the proper forms and etiquet for the 
 President and his wife. Many thought 
 royal "drawing rooms" should be held. 
 Others went to the opposite extreme. 
 There were many then, as now, who 
 criticized whatever was decided upon. 
 President Washington gained the repu- 
 tation of being grave, cold, distant, and 
 149 
 
HEART (ft WASHINGTON 
 
 formal. Much of this was due to diffi- 
 dence, and more to bad dentistry. He 
 suffered constantly with toothache, and 
 sometimes appeared at public functions 
 with his face so badly swollen that one 
 eye was closed. After he had his teeth 
 extracted and an artificial plate made, 
 it fitted him so badly that it fell down 
 whenever he laughed. This, in addition 
 to his sufferings, must have discouraged 
 his native mirthfulness. 
 
 The President formed a cabinet of 
 the greatest men of his day. Jefferson 
 was Secretary of State, and Hamilton, 
 Secretary of the Treasury. They were 
 men of opposite temperaments, and 
 though each was greatest in his own 
 line, they were inordinately jealous of 
 each other, and kept the good President 
 in hot water all the time. 
 
 Then President Washington was 
 taken with a desperate illness — a viru- 
 lent attack of anthrax — and had to sub- 
 150 
 
LAUNCHING HIS OWN SHIP 
 
 mit to a critical surgical operation. 
 His life was despaired of. One day he 
 asked the doctor if he was going to die. 
 "Do not flatter me with vain hopes," he 
 said serenely, "I am not afraid to die. 
 I can bear the worst." The physician 
 expressed only a hope that his distin- 
 guished patient might recover. The 
 President replied cheerfully: "Whether 
 to-night or twenty years hence, makes 
 no difference. I know I am in the 
 hands of a good Providence." 
 
 While his condition was most critical 
 his mother died, and they dared not tell 
 him till he was safe on the road to re- 
 covery. 
 
 Washington's life had always been 
 in the open, and he found the confine- 
 ment of the presidency exceedingly irk- 
 some and detrimental to his health, so 
 he spent much time traveling about and 
 visiting the States. The reverence and 
 esteem in which he was held, and his 
 151 
 
HEART oF WASHINGTON 
 
 diplomacy and popularity, had the ef- 
 fect of uniting the different States as 
 though he were a living embodiment of 
 the Constitution. 
 
 The national capital was removed to 
 Philadelphia, then the largest city in 
 the United States, and nearer the cen- 
 ter of the thirteen States than was New 
 York. There were two opposing in- 
 fluences at work — one favoring some 
 sort of alliance with England, and the 
 other sympathizing with the French, 
 then in the midst of their hideous 
 "Reign of Terror." As the French 
 had aided the United States in defeat- 
 ing Great Britain and securing inde- 
 pendence, many believed the failure of 
 the United States to reciprocate was 
 ungrateful if not treacherous. "Neu- 
 trality is desertion," they said. But 
 Washington and his party saw that the 
 men who aided America were being 
 murdered in the name of liberty by the 
 152 
 
LAUNCHING HIS OWN SHIP 
 
 terrible mobs of the French Revolution. 
 
 During Washington's second term 
 the so-called "Jay Treaty" was made 
 with England. Many were so enraged 
 that John Adams, the Vice-president, 
 wrote : 
 
 "Ten thousand people in the streets 
 of Philadelphia, day after day, threat- 
 ened to drag Washington out of his 
 house, and effect a revolution in the 
 government, or compel it to declare in 
 favor of the French Revolution against 
 England." 
 
 Washington was not to be intimi- 
 dated. He was true to what he be- 
 lieved to be right, without the slightest 
 wavering. The world and history have 
 long since agreed that the first Presi- 
 dent was right. The only thing that 
 seemed to disturb his serenity was hav- 
 ing his orders disobeyed or being un- 
 justly attacked in the newspapers. 
 When accused of trying to make him- 
 153 
 
HEART ^F WASHINGTON 
 
 self king, President Washington flew 
 into a violent rage and Jefferson re- 
 ported him to have said "that he had 
 rather be in his grave than in his pres- 
 ent situation; that he had rather be on 
 his farm than to be made Emperor of 
 the World; that he could see in this 
 nothing but an impudent design to in- 
 sult him." 
 
 In spite of his calm exterior, Wash- 
 ington was nervous and sensitive to 
 criticism. He complained once that 
 "every act of my administration is tor- 
 tured in such exaggerated and indecent 
 terms as could scarcely be applied to a 
 Nero, a notorious defaulter, or even a 
 common pickpocket !" 
 
 So he was glad to decide that two 
 terms were enough for any President, 
 and to prepare his great "Farewell 
 Address to the people of the United 
 States" who were to know him through 
 all time as the Father of his Country. 
 154 
 
LAUNCHING HIS OWN SHIP 
 
 Of his delivery of his farewell before 
 both Houses of Congress a spectator 
 
 wrote: 
 
 "Profound silence greeted him as if 
 the great assembly desired to hear him 
 breathe. Mr. Adams (now President- 
 elect) covered his face with both hands. 
 Every now and then there was a sup- 
 pressed sob. 
 
 "I cannot describe Washington's ap- 
 pearance as I felt it— perfectly com- 
 posed and self-possessed till the close of 
 his address. Then when strong, nerv- 
 ous sobs broke loose, when tears cov- 
 ered the faces, then the great man was 
 shaken. I never took my eyes from his 
 face. Large drops came from his eyes. 
 He looked as if his heart was with them, 
 and would be to the end." 
 
 There was a multitude who could not 
 
 gain admission to hear the address but 
 
 thronged him in the street— not a mob 
 
 this time! This is described by an eye- 
 
 155 
 
HEART 9F WASHINGTON 
 
 witness: "The crowd followed him to 
 his door ; there, turning round, his coun- 
 tenance assumed a grave and almost 
 melancholy expression, his eyes were 
 bathed in tears, his emotions were too 
 great for utterance, and only by his 
 gestures could he indicate his thanks 
 and convey his farewell blessing." 
 
 With these scenes of tenderness in 
 mind, the other side of the picture may 
 show what that kind old man had to 
 endure from a no less source than his 
 friend Franklin's grandson, in the 
 Aurora newspaper, in the very next 
 issue : 
 
 "If there ever was a period for re- 
 joicing, this is the moment; every heart 
 in unison with the freedom and happi- 
 ness of the people ought to beat high 
 with exultation that the name of Wash- 
 ington from this day ceases to give a 
 currency to political iniquity, and to 
 legalize corruption. 
 
 156 
 
LAUNCHING HIS OWN SHIP 
 
 "When a retrospect is taken of 
 Washington's administration for eight 
 years, it is a subject of the greatest as- 
 tonishment that a single individual 
 should have cankered the principles of 
 republicanism in an enlightened people 
 just emerging from the gulf of despot- 
 ism, and should have carried his designs 
 against the public liberty so far as to 
 put in jeopardy its very existence. 
 Such, however, are the facts, and with 
 these staring us in the face, this day 
 ought to be a jubilee in the United 
 
 States." 
 
 And there were thousands who read 
 this tirade with pleasure! 
 
 157 
 
"HOME AGAIN, HOME AGAIN!" 
 
 Although Washington returned to 
 private life and was relieved of the cares 
 of state, he did not live at ease. He 
 worked so hard overseeing the planta- 
 tion and kept up such a great volume of 
 correspondence that General Harry 
 Lee remarked to him: 
 
 "We are amazed, sir, at the vast 
 amount of work you get through." 
 
 Washington replied, "I rise at four 
 o'clock, and a great deal of my work is 
 done while others sleep." 
 
 He was the soul of hospitality and de- 
 lighted in surrounding himself with gay 
 young people. He was fond of danc- 
 ing, often indulging in every set during 
 a whole evening. Sometimes, feeling 
 that the others were overaw^ed by his 
 158 
 
"HOME AGAIN!'* 
 
 presence, he would forego the pleasure 
 of dancing more than the opening min- 
 uet, bow formally and leave the room. 
 Then he would slip behind an open door 
 and watch the young folks through the 
 crack, chuckling to himself while think- 
 ing of the pleasure he was sharing all 
 unknown to them. 
 
 Nelly Custis, his adopted daughter, 
 then a young lady, told how eagerly he 
 entered into her pranks, playing prac- 
 tical jokes with the enthusiasm of a 
 Sophomore. One of the last events in 
 which he took a great interest was 
 Nelly's wedding to his favorite nephew, 
 Lawrence Lewis, liis sister Betty's 
 son. 
 
 He enjoyed facetious stories. On 
 one occasion at dinner, Harry Lee made 
 a remark which set Mrs. Washington 
 laughing and a parrot perched by her 
 began to laugh also. 
 
 "Ah, Lee, you are a funny fellow!" 
 159 
 
HEART^F WASHINGTON 
 
 exclaimed the master of Mount Vernon. 
 "See, that bird is laughing at you." 
 
 Once Washington wrote to Tobias 
 Lear, his secretary: 
 
 "I am alone at present, and shall be 
 glad to see you this evening. Unless 
 some one pops in unexpectedly, Mrs. 
 Washington and myself will do what I 
 believe has not been done within the last 
 twenty years by us — ^that is, to sit down 
 to dinner hy ourselves. 
 
 *'Your affectionate 
 
 "G. Washington." 
 
 Jeremiah Smith, Chief Justice of 
 New Hampshire, visited the Washing- 
 tons in 1797. He used to relate with 
 great gusto the following incident con- 
 cerning Judge Marshall, afterward 
 Chief Justice of the United States : 
 
 "Judge Marshall and Judge Wash- 
 ington [the General's nephew. Bush- 
 rod] were on their way to Mount Vei;- 
 160 
 
HOME AGAIN!" 
 
 non, attended by a servant who had the 
 charge of a large portmanteau contain- 
 ing their clothes. At their last stop- 
 ping place there happened to be a 
 Scotch peddler, with a pack of goods 
 which resembled their portmanteau. 
 The roads were very dusty, and a little 
 before reaching the General's, they, 
 thinking it hardly respectful to present 
 themselves as they were, stopped in 
 a neighboring wood to change their 
 clothes. The colored man got down the 
 portmanteau, and just as they had pre- 
 pared themselves for the new garments, 
 out flew some fancy soap and other arti- 
 cles belonging to the peddler, whose 
 goods had been brought on instead of 
 their own. They were so struck by the 
 consternation of their servant, and the 
 ludicrousness of their own position, 
 being there naked, that they burst 
 into loud and repeated shouts of laugh- 
 ter. 
 
 161 
 
HEART OF WASHINGTON 
 
 "Washington, who happened to be 
 out upon his grounds near by, heard the 
 noise, and came to see what might be 
 the occasion of it, when, finding his 
 friends in that strange plight, he was so 
 overcome with laughter that he actually 
 rolled upon the ground!" 
 
 A guest named Watson, who had 
 business at Mount Vernon, was urged 
 to stay there all night. Half sick with 
 a cold, he hesitated, not wishing to re- 
 main, at such a disadvantage, under the 
 roof of one so highly venerated. After 
 going to bed he was astonished to see a 
 stately figure in a long nightgown ad- 
 vancing slowly toward the bed, bringing 
 him a bowl of herb tea. It was Wash- 
 ington himself. 
 
 The General often wrote letters until 
 dark, answering all sorts of demands 
 upon his time and courtesy — even read- 
 ing a tedious manuscript to please a 
 strange young lady who wished to know 
 162 
 
"HOME AGAIN!" 
 
 what he thought of it. As a "free 
 horse" he was ridden almost to death. 
 
 During John Adams's presidency 
 preparations were made for removing 
 the nation's capital farther south, and a 
 site on the Potomac was selected. At 
 first it was known as the Federal City. 
 The last interest which occupied the at- 
 tention of Washington was the building 
 of the ''President's Palace," as he called 
 the Executive Mansion. General 
 Washington rode over from Mount 
 Vernon almost daily to superintend the 
 work, as if he were an architect's fore- 
 man. It was a labor of love. No 
 bridegroom could have been more inter- 
 ested in the construction of his future 
 home than Washington was in the house 
 designed to become the home of the na- 
 tion. 
 
 There was a Scotchman, Davie 
 Burns, living in a cottage between the 
 site for "the palace" and the Potomac, 
 163 
 
HEART OF WASHINGTON 
 
 and the stone for the building had to be 
 hauled from a special wharf right across 
 Burns's farm. The fact was that these 
 very operations on land formerly owned 
 by him made his remaining estate very 
 valuable, but the man, ill-natured and 
 obstinate, annoyed the workmen and 
 hindered the work. 
 
 One day Washington remonstrated 
 with Burns for this, reminding him that 
 the Federal City and the President's 
 Palace were making him a rich man, 
 and remarking that, but for the selec- 
 tion of his land for this purpose, he 
 would have lived out his days there 
 "nothing but a poor tobacco planter." 
 
 Davie's Scotch was up in an instant. 
 "Aye, mon," said he in great wrath, 
 "and what you have been, Meesther 
 Washington, if you hadn't merried the 
 Weedow Custis with all her niggers? 
 You'd be nothing but a land-surveyor 
 to-day, and a mighty poor one at thatr 
 164 
 
"HOME AGAIN!" 
 
 In 1798, the last full year of Wash- 
 ington's life, trouble seemed to be brew- 
 ing with France and the old general 
 and ex-President hastened to offer him- 
 self and his sword once more to the serv- 
 ice of his country, saying in a noble note 
 to President John Adams: "I should 
 not intrench myself under the cover of 
 age." 
 
 Fortunately, because of the wisdom 
 he had shown as President, when peo- 
 ple insulted him and wanted to mob him 
 for it, these military services were not 
 needed. A mishap about this time 
 proved his physical fitness for such a 
 strenuous task. A mettlesome colt, in 
 sudden fright, jumped sideways and 
 threw him to the ground. The onlook- 
 ers feared, from the violence of his fall, 
 that the old General was badly hurt if 
 not killed outright. No, indeed, not 
 he! In spite of his great size and 
 weight, that plucky old gentleman 
 165 
 
HEART OF WASHINGTON 
 
 jumped up and began brushing off his 
 clothes — only expressing his deep dis- 
 gust that he had allowed such a trivial 
 thing to upset his equilibrium. 
 
 He always retained his passion for 
 horses. Gilbert Stuart, who painted a 
 number of portraits of Washington, in- 
 cluding that by which he is recognized 
 to-day, used to say that the only way 
 to insure an animated expression on 
 that tired old face was to talk to him 
 about horses. Washington had led 
 such an active, outdoor life that the least 
 restraint was irksome to him. Of his 
 distaste for the long portrait sittings 
 then required, he himself humorously 
 wrote: 
 
 "At first I was as restive under the 
 operation as a colt is of the saddle. 
 The next time I submitted very reluct- 
 antly, but with less flouncing. Now, 
 no dray-horse moves more readily to his 
 thill than I do to the painter's chair!" 
 166 
 
HOME AGAIN!' 
 
 Washington was especially proud of 
 "dear Brother Jack's" son Bushrod, 
 who became an eminent jurist, and of 
 Betty's son, Lawrence Lewis, whose 
 marriage to his foster-daughter took 
 place at beautiful Mount Vernon on its 
 owner's last birthday. He provided 
 well for his brother Charles's children. 
 His eldest brother, Samuel, proved a 
 ne'er-do-well, with a faculty for getting 
 married and running into debt to satisfy 
 five wives (whom he wedded in rapid 
 succession), in addition to his own ex- 
 travagances. He took advantage of 
 his wealthier brother's tenderness to- 
 ward them all, and got loans often when 
 it was "very inconvenient" for "dear 
 George" to accommodate him. At last, 
 when he was imposed upon beyond all 
 forbearance, George wrote to Jack: 
 "In God's name, how did my brother 
 Samuel get himself so enormously into 
 debt?" 
 
 167 
 
HEART (fp WASHINGTON 
 
 After the brothers were dead he took 
 kind care of their children, "lending" 
 them large amounts of money and giv- 
 ing them, sometimes sternly, sometimes 
 tenderly, the fatherly counsel they 
 sorely needed. Samuel's son Thornton 
 followed in his father's footsteps and 
 received indulgent sums from "Uncle 
 George," who sent two more of Sam- 
 uel's sons to college, paying five thou- 
 sand dollars — an extravagant amount 
 for that day — for their education. 
 
 And Samuel's daughter Harriot! 
 She was the bane of her good uncle's 
 existence, with her careless, slatternly 
 ways. He had her live at Mount Ver- 
 non, where she sometimes waxed affec- 
 tionate in wheedling him into buying a 
 new "pair of stays, shoes, gloves, and a 
 hat." 
 
 When his sister Betty appealed for 
 a wedding trousseau for this exasperat- 
 ing niece, he rephed: "She has no dis- 
 168 
 
HOME AGAIN!" 
 
 position to be careful of her clothes, for 
 they are dabbed about in every hole and 
 corner, and her best things always 
 in use." Then he added, with a shrug 
 and a helpless smile, "She costs me 
 enough I" 
 
 In his will, Washington forgave quite 
 a fortune of delinquencies on the part 
 of relatives, near and distant, to whom 
 he had been a sort of Santa Claus all 
 their natural, and somewhat unnatural, 
 lives. 
 
 On the 12th of December, 1799, he 
 rode the rounds of his estate, paying no 
 heed to a driving storm of snow and 
 sleet. Taking cold, he was bled by an 
 overseer. It was the worst thing to 
 have done, but he gave the order, and 
 the man obeyed as he would if he had 
 been butchering a steer. Then three 
 doctors came and bled him again. One 
 of these was his life-long friend Dr. 
 Craik, who attended him when, as a gen- 
 169 
 
HEART fTF WASHINGTON 
 
 eral's aide, with a high fever, he broke 
 from the hospital tent and rode hke the 
 wind into battle against French and 
 Indians, saving his men, even after 
 Braddock had lost the day. The old 
 general was not nearly so ill now as the 
 young colonel was then, 
 
 Washington had had so many narrow 
 escapes he was now sure he was "in the 
 hour and article of death." In his old 
 methodical way, he made all the final ar- 
 rangements, as if he was going on a 
 long-planned journey. To his faithful 
 secretary, who was tenderly caring for 
 his needs, he said: 
 
 "I am afraid I fatigue you too much. 
 — Well, it is a debt we must pay to each 
 other, and I hope when you want aid of 
 this kind you will find it." 
 
 When old Dr. Craik called, he whis- 
 pered, with many gasps: "Doctor, I 
 die hard — ^but I am not — afraid to go. — 
 I believed — from the — first attack — 
 170 
 
"HOME AGAIN!" 
 
 that I should — not sur — vive it, — ^my 
 breath — cannot — last long." 
 
 Later that dear "gentleman of the 
 old school" wheezed out his thanks to 
 the three physicians who, with the best 
 intentions in the world, had bled him to 
 death, begging them: 
 
 "Take no more trouble about me. — 
 Let me go off quietly — I cannot last 
 —long." 
 
 Tobias Lear, the old secretary, has re- 
 corded Washington's last words: 
 
 "About ten o'clock [December 14, 
 1799] he made several attempts to speak 
 to me before he could effect it; at length 
 he said: 
 
 "*I am just going. Have me de- 
 cently buried; and do not let my body 
 be put into the vault in less than three 
 days after I am dead.' 
 
 "I bowed assent, for I could not 
 speak. He then looked at me again 
 and said: 
 
 171 
 
HEART OF WASHINGTON 
 
 " 'Do you understand me?' 
 
 *'I replied *yes.' 
 
 '' ' 'Tis well/ said he. 
 
 "While we were fixed in silent grief, 
 Mrs. Washington (who was sitting at 
 the foot of the bed) asked with a firm 
 and collected voice, *Is he gone?' 
 
 "I could not speak, but held up my 
 hand as a signal that he was no more. 
 
 " * 'Tis well,' said she in the same 
 voice. 'All is now over. I shall soon 
 follow him. I have no more trials to 
 pass through.' " 
 
 H 50 
 
 172 
 
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