“Of the remarkable degree of awe and reverence that the presence of Washington always inspired,” says Mr. Custis, “we shall give one out of a thousand instances. During the cantonment of the American army at the Valley Forge, some officers of the fourth Pennsylvania regiment were engaged in a game of 'fives.' In the midst of their sport, they discovered the commander-in-chief leaning upon the enclosure, and beholding the game with evident satisfaction. In a moment, all things were changed. The ball was suffered to roll idly away; the gay laugh and joyous shout of excitement were hushed into a profound silence, and the officers were gravely grouped together. It was in vain the chief begged of the players that they would proceed with their game; declared the pleasure he had experienced from witnessing their skill; spoke of a proficiency in the manly exercise that he himself could have boasted of in other days. All would not do. Not a man could be induced to move, till the general, finding that his presence hindered the officers from continuing the amusement, bowed, and, wishing them good sport, retired.”
A writer in the National Intelligencer, a few years ago, gave the following sketch of the personal appearance of Washington:—
“The description given by 'R' Intelligencer] of Washington's approach to the hall of Congress in Philadelphia, has freshly awakened my own reminiscences of the same scene. Its vivid truth can not be surpassed. I stood with him on that same stone platform, before the door of the hall, elevated by a few steps from the pavement, when the carriage of the president drew up. It was, as he describes it, white, or rather of a light cream-color, painted on the panels with beautiful groups, by Cipriani, representing the four seasons. The horses, according to my recollection, were white, in unison with the carriage, 'R.' says they were bays; perhaps he is more correct. As he alighted, and, ascending the steps, paused upon the platform, looking over his shoulder, in an attitude that would have furnished an admirable subject for the pencil, he was preceded by two gentlemen bearing long white wands, who kept back the eager crowd that pressed on every side to get a nearer view. At that moment I stood so near, that I might have touched his clothes; but I should as soon have thought of touching an electric battery. I was penetrated with a veneration amounting to the deepest awe. Nor was this the feeling of a schoolboy only; it pervaded, I believe, every human being that approached Washington; and I have been told that, even in his social and convivial hours, this feeling in those who were honored to share them never suffered intermission. I saw him a hundred times afterward, but never with any other than that same feeling. The Almighty, who raised up for our hour of need a man so peculiarly prepared for its whole dread responsibility, seems to have put an impress of sacredness upon his own instrument. The first sight of the man struck the heart with involuntary homage, and prepared everything around him to obey, When he 'addressed himself to speak,' there was an unconscious suspension of the breath, while every eye was raised in expectation.
“At the time I speak of, he stood in profound silence, and had that statue-like air which mental greatness alone can bestow. As he turned to enter the building, and was ascending the staircase leading to the Congressional hall, I glided along unperceived, almost tinder cover of the skirts of his dress, and entered instantly after him into the lobby of the house, which was of course in session to receive him. On either hand, from the entrance, stood a large cast-iron stove; and, resolved to secure the unhoped-for privilege I had so unexpectedly obtained, I clambered, boy-like, on this stove (fortunately then not much heated), and from that favorable elevation enjoyed, for the first time (what I have since so many thousands of times witnessed with comparative indifference), an uninterrupted view of the American Congress in full session, every member in his place. Shall I be pardoned for saying its aspect was very different from what we now witness? There was an air of decorum, of composure, of reflection, of gentlemanly and polished dignity, which has fled, or lingers only with here and there a 'relic of the olden time.'
“The house seemed then as composed as the senate now is when an impressive speech is in the act of delivery. On Washington's entrance, the most profound and death-like stillness prevailed. House, lobbies, gallery, all were wrapped in the deepest attention; and the souls of that entire assemblage seemed peering from their eyes on the noble figure which deliberately, and with an unaffected but surpassing majesty, advanced up the broad aisle of the hall between ranks of standing senators and members, and slowly ascended the steps leading to the speaker's chair. I well remember, standing at the head of the senate, the tall, square, somewhat gaunt form of Mr. Jefferson; conspicuous from his scarlet waistcoat, bright blue coat, with broad, bright buttons, as well as by his quick and penetrating air, and high-boned, Scottish cast of features. There, too, stood General Knox, then secretary of war, in all the sleek rotundity of his low stature, with a bold and florid face, open, firm, and manly, in its expression. But I recollect that my boyish eye was caught by the appearance of De Yrujo, the Spanish embassador. He stood in the rear of the chair, a little on one side, covered with a splendid diplomatic dress, decorated with orders, and carrying under his arm an immense chapeau-bras, edged with white ostrich-feathers. He was a man totally different in his air and manner from all around him, and the very antipode especially of the man on whom all eyes but his seemed fixed as by a spell. I saw many other very striking figures grouped about and behind the speaker's chair, but I did not know their names, and had no one to ask: besides, I dared not open my lips.
“The president, having seated himself, remained in silence, serenely contemplating the legislature before him, whose members now resumed their seats, waiting for the speech. No house of worship, in the most solemn pauses of devotion, was ever more profoundly still than that large and crowded chamber.
“Washington was dressed precisely as Stuart has painted him in Lord Lansdowne's full-length portrait—in a full suit of the richest black velvet, with diamond knee-buckles, and square silver buckles set upon shoes japanned with the most scrupulous neatness, black silk stockings, his shirt ruffled at the breast and wrists, a light dress-sword, his hair profusely powdered, fully dressed, so as to project at the sides, and gathered behind in a silk bag, ornamented with a large rose of black ribbon. He held his cocked hat, which had a large black cockade on one side of it, in his hand, as he advanced toward the chair, and, when seated, laid it on the table.
“At length, thrusting his hand within the side of his coat, he drew forth a roll of manuscript, which he opened, and rising, held it in his hand, while in a rich, deep, full, sonorous voice, he read his opening address to Congress. His enunciation was deliberate, justly emphasized, very distinct, and accompanied with an air of deep solemnity, as being the utterance of a mind profoundly impressed with the dignity of the act in which it was occupied, conscious of the whole responsibility of its position and action, but not oppressed by it. There was ever about the man something which impressed the observer with a conviction that he was exactly and fully equal to what he had to do. He was never hurried; never negligent; but seemed ever prepared for the occasion, be it what it might. If I could express his character in one word, it would be appropriateness. In his study, in his parlor, at a levee, before Congress, at the head of the army, he seemed ever to be just what the situation required him to be. He possessed, in a degree never equalled by any human being I ever saw, the strongest, most ever-present sense of propriety. It never forsook him, and deeply and involuntarily impressed itself upon every beholder. His address was of moderate length. The topics I have, of course, forgotten; indeed, I was not of an age to appreciate them: but the air, the manner, the tones, have never left my mental vision, and even now seem to vibrate on my ear.
“A scene like this, once beheld, though in earliest youth, is never to be forgotten. It must be now fifty years ago, but I could this moment sit down and sketch the chamber, the assembly, and the man.
“Having closed the reading, he laid down the scroll, and, after a brief pause, retired, as he had entered; when the manuscript was handed, for a second reading, to Mr. Beckley, then clerk of the house, whose gentlemanly manner, clear and silver voice, and sharp articulation, I shall ever associate with the scene. When shall we again behold such a Congress and such a president?”