II
Washington loved all children. He always smiled at them. He was specially popular with boys.
When he rode in state to Independence Hall in his cream-coloured coach drawn by six bays, and with postilions and outriders, boys were always at hand to cheer as he drove by. And when he returned to Mount Vernon, there were other boys waiting to welcome him. He could always count on boys, wherever he went, to shout and wave their hats. He used to touch his own hat to them as politely as if they were veterans on parade.
After his great dinners at Mount Vernon, as soon as the guests were done eating, he would tell his steward to call in the neighbours’ boys, who were never far away at such a time. In they would come, crowding around the table, and make quick work of the cakes, nuts, and raisins the guests had left.
At twilight, Washington had a habit of pacing up and down the large room on the first floor with his hands behind him.
One evening, a boy who had never seen him, climbed up to a high open window to look in at him.
The boy fell and hurt himself. Washington heard him cry, and sent a servant to see what was the matter.
The servant came back and said, “The boy was trying to get a look at you, sir.”
“Bring him in,” said Washington.
And when the boy came in, he patted him on the head, saying:—
“You wanted to see General Washington, did you? Well, I am General Washington.”
But the little fellow shook his head, and replied:—
“No, you are only just a man. I want to see the President.”
Washington laughed, and told him that he was the President and a man for all that. Then he had the servant give him some cakes and nuts, and sent him away happy.
Grace Greenwood and Other Sources (Retold)
THE LITTLE GIRL AND THE RED COATS
When Washington with the Army entered Boston after the British had evacuated the city, he made the best tavern in town his Headquarters. It had been the British Headquarters. The tavern-keeper’s little girl was running about very much interested in all that was going on.
Washington called her to him, and holding her on his knee, asked:—
“Now that you have seen the soldiers on both sides, which do you like best?”
The little girl hesitated, but like the great Washington himself, she could not tell a lie, so she said:—
“I like the Red Coats best.”
Washington laughed at her frankness, and said gently:—
“Yes, my dear, the Red Coats do look the best, but it takes the ragged boys to do the fighting.”
Wayne Whipple (Retold)
NELLIE AND LITTLE WASHINGTON
George Washington loved children, and, as he had none of his own, he adopted two of his wife’s grandchildren, Nellie Custis and George Washington Parke Custis.
The little boy was known as “Washington.” Nellie was a beautiful child with smiling black eyes and thick curly brown hair; while her brother was of very light complexion.
They had good times together at Mount Vernon. There was a delightfully fearsome pack of hounds in the kennel; French dogs, the gift of Lafayette, “fierce, big-mouthed, savage.” And there were litters of beautiful puppies.
The stables were full of horses, fine creatures for pets and playfellows. Nellie liked to be with the horses, and was constantly alarming her grandmother as she flashed by the windows or down the lanes, mounted upon some half-broken colt.
The children loved old Nelson, Washington’s war horse. They used to climb upon the fence to pat his forehead, as he came racing up to greet his master.
There were many other animals—gifts to Washington of friends and admirers.
Among them were Spanish jackasses, Chinese pigs, and Chinese geese.
There was always something going on to interest the children. They might run down to the river-landing to see what strange fish “Daddy Jack” had caught; day in and day out, “Daddy Jack” was always fishing there in his canoe. Or they might go to meet the hunter “carrying his gun and pouch, his body wrapped with strings of game, his dogs at heel.” They liked to look at the game, and smooth the thick feathers or soft fur. There were birds, squirrels, wild turkeys, molly cotton-tails, wily ’possums, and canvas-back ducks.
Coaches of company, too, were coming and going. State dinners were cooked and served to nobles and dignitaries.
And when the children ran about the gardens, they saw rare things growing—“fig-trees, raisins, limes, oranges, large English mulberries, artichokes.”
Then there were the mills to visit, the smithy, the shops, the fields, and the negro-quarters, all in company with their dear adopted father, Washington himself.
But the children and indeed every one looked forward to the evening, when Washington sat with them. This was the children’s hour, when by the uncertain twinkle of the home-made candles, they danced and sang their little songs.
The curled darling of the house was “Master Washington”—George Washington Parke Custis. Many years later, when Lafayette visited Master Washington, then grown up, he told how he had first seen him on the portico of Mount Vernon, a little boy, a very little gentleman, with a feather in his hat, holding fast to one finger of Washington’s hand, which finger was so large that the little boy could hardly hold on to it.
As for Nellie, she wanted to romp and play from morning till night. She did not like to have her hair dressed with feathers and ribbons. She did not enjoy her books and music. And she used to cry for hours together, while her determined grandmother stood guard over her, keeping her at practice on the beautiful harpsichord, which Washington had given her.
As for Washington, he tried to lighten little Nellie’s tasks, and used to carry her off for a gallop or brisk outdoor walk.
He was always extremely fond of little girls. He liked other little girls beside Nellie. He had with him her pretty sister, Elizabeth, when he sat for one of his portraits. And in the most critical week of his Presidency, Washington went to the house of one of his cabinet officers, and played with his little daughters.
Harriet Taylor Upton (Retold)
Many of the stories in this book are from the Life of Washington, by his adopted son, George Washington Parke Custis.
SEEING THE PRESIDENT
Sometimes, when President Washington went on a journey in his state-coach, he wanted to travel quietly, without attracting people’s attention. So he charged his courier, who rode on ahead, to make all necessary arrangements at inns, but to tell no one but the landlords, that the President was coming.
Often, however, the news leaked out, and was flashed throughout the countryside. Trumpets were blown, as the veterans of the War for Independence gathered to welcome their Chief. Village cannon roared. Every village and hamlet poured out its folk to greet the man who was “first in the hearts of his countrymen.”
As for the school children, how eagerly they hurried to get their lessons, so that as a reward, they might see General Washington.
And when at last he did come, how happy the children were to be presented to him. With delight, they listened to his kind voice, felt the kindlier touch of his hand, and even climbed on his knee to look up into his smiling face.
George Washington Parke Custis (Retold)
NELSON THE HERO
There was one old horse at Mount Vernon, after the War for Independence, who was a hero. He was never ridden. He was cared for kindly. He grazed in a pleasant paddock.
That was Nelson, Washington’s favourite and splendid charger, which he had ridden on the day of the surrender at Yorktown. He was a light sorrel, with white face and legs.
Now that he was old, he was petted and cared for. Whenever Washington made the rounds of his kennels and stables, he stopped at the paddock. Then the old war-horse would run neighing up to the fence, proud to be caressed by the hand of his master.
George Washington Parke Custis (Retold)
CARING FOR THE GUEST
Told by the Guest Himself
I had feasted my imagination, for several days, on the near prospect of a visit to Mount Vernon, the seat of Washington. No pilgrim ever approached Mecca with deeper enthusiasm.
The first evening I spent under the wing of his hospitality, we sat a full hour at table, by ourselves, without the least interruption after the family had retired.
I was extremely oppressed with a severe cold and excessive coughing, contracted from the exposure of a harsh winter journey. He pressed me to use some remedies, but I declined doing so.
As usual, soon after retiring, my cough increased.
When some time had elapsed, the door of my room was gently opened. And, on drawing back my bed-curtains, to my utter astonishment, I beheld Washington himself standing at my bedside with a bowl of hot tea in his hand.
Elkanah Watson (Condensed)
THOUGHTFUL OF OTHERS
Once, when Washington was stopping for refreshment at a house in Jersey, some one told him that a wounded officer was there, who could not bear the slightest sound.
During the meal, Washington spoke in an undertone, and was careful to make no noise.
After he had left the table, however, his officers began to talk in loud voices. Instantly, Washington softly opened the dining-room door, entered on tip-toe, took a book from the mantelpiece, and stole out of the room without uttering a word.
His officers took the hint, and were silent.
THE CINCINNATUS OF THE WEST
A man who’d fought to free the land from woe,
Like me, had left his farm a-soldiering to go;
But having gained his point, he had, like me,
Returned his own potato-ground to see;
But there he couldn’t rest;—with one accord
He’s called to be a kind of—, not a Lord,—
I don’t know what—he’s not a great man, sure,
For poor men love him, just as he was poor!
They love him like a father or a brother!
This little verse is from “Darby’s Return,” a play that President Washington went to see. The moment he entered the theatre the whole audience rose to its feet and cheered. And when “Darby” said these lines, the audience stared hard at Washington to see how he would take them. He looked horribly embarrassed. But when “Darby” quickly added that he had not seen the “man” at all at all because he was so plainly dressed that he passed by unnoticed, Washington burst into a hearty laugh.
In the ancient days of Rome, a terrible enemy threatened the city. There was no Roman general wise enough to lead the army against the foe. There was just one plain Roman citizen whom the people trusted. They believed that he had the wisdom to save them. This was Cincinnatus the Curly-haired. They sent hasty messengers to bid him come to the aid of Rome.
The messengers found him tilling his land, for he was a farmer. His feet were heavy with damp earth and his clothes covered with soil. He listened to their message, and to the request of the Roman Senate that he should come at once to the aid of his Country.
He called his wife to bring his toga from their hut. After he had wiped off the dust and sweat, he put on his toga and went with the messengers.
So he saved Rome.
Thus it was with Washington.
When the call came for him to save his Country, he left his plantation. So did many farmers and planters; at a moment’s notice they left their farms and plantations, took up their muskets and answered the call of their Country. They became officers in Washington’s Army.
After the war, these officers formed a society, called the Society of the Cincinnati, naming it after the patriotic old Roman farmer.
To it belonged Washington, Hamilton, Lafayette, Kosciuszko, and many other American and foreign officers, who had served with honour in the Continental army. To-day their descendants, one representing each officer, belong to the Society of the Cincinnati.
The French members presented Washington with a magnificent badge of the Order, studded with about two hundred precious stones—diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and amethysts.
Washington himself is called:—
“Yes—one—the first—the last—the best,
The Cincinnatus of the West.”
BROTHER JONATHAN
I do hereby earnestly recommend it to all ... to meet together for social prayer to Almighty God ... that He would ... preserve our precious Rights and Liberties ... and make us a People of his praise, and blessed of the Lord, as long as the sun and the moon shall endure.
Jonathan Trumbull,
to the People of Connecticut, June 18, 1776
Patriotic and plucky was Connecticut, the State of the Charter Oak. It had been a liberty-loving Colony from the days when its first settlers, with their wives, children, household goods, and cattle, came through the howling Wilderness—literally howling with savage Pequot Indians—and settled on the banks of the beautiful Connecticut River, whose name in the Indian language means Long River.
Those brave settlers came into the Wilderness so that they might have religious and civil Liberty. Almost, their first act was to frame in 1639, a Constitution for their own government. It was the first Constitution in America to make no mention of allegiance to King or Great Britain. It breathed the free spirit of American Independence over a hundred years before the Declaration of Independence.
Is it strange, then, that Jonathan Trumbull, Governor of Connecticut under King George, should have been a Patriot?
He was more than loyal to American freedom. He was Washington’s friend and supporter. He supplied Washington with soldiers and ammunition. He supplied more than half the powder used at Bunker Hill.
There is a tale, that once when Washington was hard put to it for ammunition, and it looked as though the campaign would fail for lack of powder and shot, Washington said to his officers, “We must consult Brother Jonathan.”
Then Washington consulted Governor Trumbull, and got his powder and shot.
After that, whenever a difficulty arose in the Army, the men would say, “We must consult Brother Jonathan.” So the saying became a byword.
Later, people nicknamed the United States, “Brother Jonathan,” just as England is called “John Bull.”
THE BLOODY FOOTPRINTS
It was the terrible winter of 1777. The snow lay thick on the ground, and the cold was piercing. Through the snow, a detachment of Patriot troops was wearily plodding toward winter-quarters at Valley Forge. Half-naked, hungry, and numb with cold, they pushed on.
Presently Washington rode slowly up after them. He was eying the snow intently through which they had marched. There was something on its frozen surface, something red that he had tracked for many miles.
Saluting the commanding officer, Washington drew rein.
“How comes it, sir,” he said, “that I have tracked the march of your troops by the bloodstains of their feet upon the frozen ground? Were there no shoes in the commissary’s stores, that this sad spectacle is to be seen along the public highways?”
“Your Excellency may rest assured,” replied the officer, “that this sight is as painful to my feelings as it can be to yours. But there is no remedy within our reach. When the shoes were issued, the different regiments were served in turn. It was our misfortune to be among the last to be served, and the stores became exhausted before we could obtain even the smallest supply.”
Washington’s lips compressed, while his chest heaved with the powerful emotions that were struggling in his bosom. Then turning toward the troops, with a trembling voice, he exclaimed:—
“Poor fellows!”
Then giving his horse the rein, he rode sadly on.
During this touching interview, every eye had been bent upon him; and as those two words warm from the heart of their beloved commander and full of commiseration for their sufferings, reached the soldiers, there burst gratefully from their lips:—
“God bless your Excellency, your poor soldiers’ friend!”
George Washington Parke Custis (Arranged)
AN APPEAL TO GOD
On a cold wintry journey to Valley Forge, Mrs. Washington rode behind her husband on a pillion. He was on his powerful bay charger, and accompanied by a single aide-de-camp.
On his arrival at Valley Forge, Washington placed her in the small but comfortable house of Isaac Potts, a Quaker preacher.
So in all the trials of that Winter at Valley Forge, Washington had the most earnest sympathies, cheerful spirit, and willing hands of his loving wife to sustain him and share in his cares.
She provided comforts for the sick soldiers. Every day except Sundays, the wives of officers, and other women too, assisted her in knitting socks, patching garments, and making shirts for the poor soldiers.
Every fair day, she might be seen, basket in hand and with a single attendant, going among the huts and giving comfort to the most needy sufferers.
On one occasion, she went to the hut of a dying sergeant, whose young wife was with him. His misery touched the heart of Mrs. Washington, and after she had given him some food prepared with her own hands, she knelt down by his straw bed, and prayed earnestly for him and his wife, in her sweet serious voice.
But it was not only women who prayed in those terrible days at Valley Forge.
The cold and suffering increased. One day Friend Potts was walking by the creek not far from his house, when he heard a solemn voice speaking. He went quietly in its direction, and saw Washington’s horse without a rider tied to a sapling.
He stole nearer, and saw Washington himself, kneeling in a thicket. He was on his knees in prayer to God asking Him for help. Tears were on Washington’s cheeks.
And quietly the Friend stole away. On entering his house, he burst out weeping. When his wife asked him what was the matter, he said:—
“If there is any one on this earth whom the Lord will listen to, it is George Washington. And I feel a presentiment that under such a Commander there can be no doubt of our eventually establishing our Independence, and that God in His providence has willed it so.”
Benson J. Lossing (Arranged)
FRIEND GREENE
At Eutaw Springs the valiant died;
Their limbs with dust are covered o’er.
Weep on, ye springs, your tearful tide;
How many heroes are no more!
. . . . . . . . . .
Led by thy conquering genius, Greene,
The Britons they compelled to fly;
None distant viewed the fatal plain,
None grieved, in such a cause to die.
From Eutaw Springs, by Philip Freneau
It was at the Siege of Boston. The troops of the Colonies were raw and uncouth. They were camping separately. Washington was inspecting their camps for the first time. He saw that their shelters were made of anything the soldiers could lay hands on, turf, bricks, sail-cloth, boards, or brushwood. Each soldier seemed to live and do as he pleased.
But when Washington reached the camp of the Rhode Island troops, he perceived neat tents pitched, soldiers well drilled and equipped, and under perfect discipline. He was pausing to look around him with pleasure and approval, when a young officer, vigorous and finely built, stepped forward to greet him, his frank manly face beaming with a cordial welcome.
The young man was Nathanael Greene, Commander of the Rhode Island troops. It was he who had trained them, after studying the manœuvres of the British troops in Boston.
Nathanael Greene was born a Friend or Quaker. When a boy, he worked in his father’s forge, and helped on the farm.
He was eager to read. He got together a little library of his own. He studied hard. He liked best to read about military heroes. When he grew older, although he was a Friend, he joined the Rhode Island militia. Later he was appointed Rhode Island’s Commander, and led her troops to Bunker Hill and the Siege of Boston.
Washington liked and trusted him at first sight. Later his confidence became friendship.
At Valley Forge, Nathanael Greene gave up active duty in the field, much to his sorrow and regret, and became Quartermaster-General. He gave up his ambitions, in order to help Washington relieve the sufferings of the troops. As Quartermaster-General, he was soon able to supply them with some blankets, clothes, and food, all of which Congress had failed to deliver.
Later Greene’s reward of faithful service came. Washington appointed him Commander of the Army in the South. It was a post of great danger; but he conducted his military operations with such courage and sagacity that they led on to completed victory for the American arms at Yorktown.
This is what John Fiske says of Nathanael Greene:—
“The intellectual qualities which he showed in his southern campaign were those which have characterized some of the foremost strategists of modern times.... Nor was Greene less notable for the sweetness and purity of his character, than for the scope of his intelligence. From lowly beginnings he had come to be ... the most admired and respected citizen of Rhode Island.”
LIGHT HORSE HARRY
The American Congress to Henry Lee, Colonel of Cavalry:—
“Notwithstanding rivers and intrenchments, he with a small band ered the foe by warlike skill and prowess, and firmly bound by his humanity, those who had been conquered by his arms.”
In memory of the conflict at Paulus’s Hook,
nineteenth of August, 1779