"Because the war was over?" asked Eric Leland.
"Yes; and the brave men who had done and suffered so much together had to bid each other farewell, separate, and go to their homes. Of course they were very glad and thankful that liberty was gained and the dreadful struggle over, yet it was sad to part; especially from their beloved chief."
"Wasn't it there, father, that some of them had proposed to make him king?" asked Grace.
"Yes; but he received the proposal with abhorrence. Washington had fought to win freedom for his country, not to win power and glory for himself. He had no hunger for them, but a great love of liberty for his country and himself."
"Do you think he was as great a man as Napoleon, captain?" asked
Sydney.
"Greater, much greater! Napoleon undoubtedly had genius, but he was utterly selfish, utterly unscrupulous in the means he took to gain power and satisfy his own ambition—even sacrificing the wife he probably really loved (after his own selfish fashion) in order to get an heir to the throne he had usurped."
"And his fortunes began to wane from the time that he divorced poor
Josephine," remarked Mr. Leland.
"Yes; and the son and heir to gain which he had done such wickedness never succeeded to the crown or throne," remarked Grandma Elsie. "'The triumphing of the wicked is short.'"
"I never thought of it before," remarked Sydney; "but isn't it odd that each of those great men married a widow with children, and had none of his own by her?"
"And of our Washington it has been said, 'Providence left him childless that his country might call him father,'" said Mrs. Leland. "I have always thought that a very pretty idea."