TOP
Our chronicle of the career of Washington is finished. We have traced the details of that career, from his birth through all the vicissitudes of an eventful life of more than sixty years, with conscientious fidelity to truth and justice.
We have seen him first a generous, truthful boy; and then a handsome, robust, manly youth, perfectly self-reliant, bearing the implements of a professional surveyor's vocation through the forests of Virginia, and gaining that knowledge of woodcraft which afterward proved of essential service to him.
We have seen him, at the age of twenty-one years, traversing a portion of the same wilderness and beyond, bearing the commission and responsibilities of a military officer, and intrusted with service the most delicate yet most arduous, requiring for its performance the combined abilities of pioneer, soldier, and diplomat. We have seen him returning, crowned with success, and receiving the applause of his countrymen.
We have seen him, a little later, leading a military expedition into that wilderness, to roll back a wave of French encroachment supported by deluded savages, and exhibiting the wisdom of a veteran in his marches, conflicts, and retreats. And, later still, we have seen him wisely advising a British general how to fight, but to be answered with contempt. We have seen him left to act upon the principles involved in that advice, when his commander was laid low, and permitted to save, by most brave and judicious management, the remnant of the broken army.
We have seen him in other campaigns of that old French andIndian War, always judicious, brave, and successful, and always evidently God-protected; and we have seen that devotion to his country rewarded by the love and admiration of his fellow-men, and the affections and fortune of one of the loveliest of Virginia's daughters who became his wife, and was his companion, solace, and joy, during the remaining forty years of his life.
We have seen him a chosen member of the Virginia house of burgesses year after year, always remarkable for his wisdom, his patriotism, and his prudence; always conservative, yet never lagging when a crisis demanded action—one of the most decisive when reconciliation with the mother-country was evidently impossible, and a resort to arms absolutely necessary.
We have seen him at the kindling of that war, a sage and influential member of the grand national council; and soon afterward called by that body to the supreme leadership of the armies formed to fight for liberty and independence. We have seen him so devoted to the high and holy trust committed to his case, that for more than six years he never crossed the threshold of his delightful mansion on the Potomac, where he had enjoyed many long years of connubial happiness, the pleasures of social intercourse, and the delights of rural pursuits.
We have seen him at the close of a successful seven years' war for independence, venerated and almost worshipped by a grateful people, refusing a proffered crown, resigning his commission into the hands of the power that gave it, and retiring to private life at his own dear Mount Vernon. And we have seen him in that delightful retreat, entertaining friends and strangers with the most generous hospitality, and receiving the homage of the great and the good of all lands.
We have seen him called from that retirement to take the lead in the formation of a new code of organic laws for the government of the infant nation in whose nativity he had performed the most conspicuous part; and then, by the spontaneous voice of the whole people, summoned to the helm of state under that more perfect form of government which he and his compatriots had devised.We have seen him as the chief magistrate of the republic, firm almost beyond precedent in his loyalty to the best interests of his country, unmoved by the appeals of sympathy, unseduced by the wiles of politicians, unappalled by the shocks of faction and the surges of popular commotions. We have seen him leave the cares and honors of office, even while the nation was imploring him to remain, and retiring to private life with the blessed assurance of repose and a serene old age. We have seen him leaving that repose at the call of the people, and again cheerfully preparing to serve his country, as the leader of its armies, to repel hostile invasion. And we have seen him go down into the grave, without any of the infirmities of old age—with step elastic, eye undimmed, countenance fresh and youthful in appearance, and intellect unclouded, until the last—leaving to his countrymen the image of an almost perfect man, in all the beautiful proportions of mental, moral, and physical vigor, while the world lamented, and eulogy found him one of its noblest and most suggestive themes.
It remains for us now to consider his character and his habits of life in the social relations. Historians, biographers, essayists, and personal friends, have drawn pictures of that wonderful man (whose proportions, in comparison of others, grow more colossal every day) with pencils somewhat partial, perhaps, as is natural, but graphic and generally truthful. It is not for us, at this remote distance from the period and theatre of his life, to attempt to delineate him with any expectation of improving upon these originals. We will be content to group some of their pictures, in whole and in part, in such a way, that all knowledge essential to a just appreciation of thewholecharacter ofWashingtonmay be obtained by the reader who may have followed us in the long narrative of his public life, recorded on the pages of these volumes. In making up the group, we shall borrow freely from the limners, beginning with the graphic outline of one of his most devoted and well-appreciated personal friends, and his first biographer, Chief-Justice Marshall.
“His manners were rather reserved than free, though they partook nothing of that dryness and sternness which accompany reservewhen carried to an extreme; and on all proper occasions he could relax sufficiently to show how highly he was gratified by the charms of conversation and the pleasures of society. His person and whole deportment exhibited an unaffected and indescribable dignity, unmingled with haughtiness, of which all who approached him were sensible; and the attachment of those who possessed his friendship and enjoyed his intimacy was ardent, but always respectful. His temper was humane, benevolent, and conciliatory; but there was a quickness in his sensibility to anything apparently offensive, which experience had taught him to watch and to correct.
“In the management of his private affairs he exhibited an exact yet liberal economy. His funds were not prodigally wasted on capricious and ill-examined schemes, nor refused to beneficial though costly improvements. They remained, therefore, competent to that expensive establishment which his reputation, added to a hospitable temper, had in some measure imposed upon him, and to those donations which real distress has a right to claim from opulence. He made no pretensions to that vivacity which fascinates, or to that wit which dazzles, and frequently imposes on the understanding. More solid than brilliant, judgment rather than genius constituted the most prominent feature of his character. Without making ostentatious professions of religion, he was a sincere believer in the Christian faith, and a truly devout man.
“As a military man, he was brave, enterprising, and cautious. That malignity which has sought to strip him of all the higher qualities of a general, has conceded to him personal courage, and a firmness of resolution which neither dangers nor difficulty could shake. But candor will allow him other great and valuable endowments. If his military course does not abound with splendid achievements, it exhibits a series of judicious measures adapted to circumstances, which probably saved his country.
“Placed, without having studied the theory or been taught in the school of experience the practice of war, at the head of an undisciplined, ill-organized multitude, which was impatient of therestraints and unacquainted with the ordinary duties of the camp, without the aid of officers possessing those lights which the commander-in-chief was yet to acquire, it would have been a miracle indeed had his conduct been absolutely faultless. But, possessing an energetic and distinguishing mind, on which the lessons of experience were never lost, his errors, if he committed any, were quickly repaired; and those measures which the state of things rendered most advisable, were seldom if ever neglected. Inferior to his adversary in the number, the equipment, and in the discipline of his troops, it is evidence of real merit that no great and decisive advantages were ever obtained over him; and that the opportunity to strike an important blow never passed away unused. He has been termed the American Fabius; but those who compare his actions with his means, will perceive at least as much of Marcellus as Fabius in his character. He could not have been more enterprising, without endangering the cause he defended; nor have put more to hazard, without incurring justly the imputation of rashness. Not relying upon those chances which sometimes give a favorable issue to attempts apparently desperate, his conduct was regulated by calculations made upon the capacities of his army and the real situation of his country.
“In his civil administration, as in his military career, ample and repeated proofs were exhibited of that practical good sense, of that sound judgment, which is perhaps the most rare and is certainly the most valuable quality of the human mind. Devoting himself to the duties of his station, and pursuing no object distinct from the public good, he was accustomed to contemplate at a distance those critical situations in which the United States might probably be placed; and to digest, before the occasion required action, the line of conduct which it would be proper to observe. Taught to distrust first impressions, he sought to acquire all the information which was attainable, and to hear, without prejudice, all the reasons which could be urged for or against a particular measure. His own judgment was suspended until it became necessary to determine; and his decisions, thus maturely made, were seldom if everto be shaken. His conduct therefore was systematic, and the great objects of his administration were steadily pursued.
“Respecting, as the first magistrate of a free government must ever do, the real and deliberate sentiments of the people, their gusts of passion passed over without ruffling the smooth surface of his mind. Trusting to the reflecting good sense of the nation for approbation and support, he had the magnanimity to pursue its real interests, in opposition to its temporary prejudices; and, though far from being regardless of popular favor, he could never stoop to retain, by deserving to lose it. In more instances than one, we find him committing his whole popularity to hazard, and pursuing steadily, in opposition to a torrent that would have overwhelmed a man of ordinary firmness, that course which had been dictated by a sense of duty.
“In speculation, he was a real republican, devoted to the constitution of his country, and to that system of equal political rights on which it is founded. But between a balanced republic and a democracy the difference is like that between order and chaos. Real liberty, he thought, was to be preserved only by preserving the authority of the laws and maintaining the energy of government. Scarcely did society present two characters which, in his opinion, less resembled each other, than a patriot and a demagogue.
“No man has ever appeared upon the theatre of public action whose integrity was more incorruptible, or whose principles were more perfectly free from the contaminations of those selfish and unworthy passions which find their nourishment in the conflicts of party. Having no views which required concealment, his real and avowed motives were the same; and his whole correspondence does not furnish a single case from which even an enemy would infer that he was capable, under any circumstances, of stooping to the employment of duplicity. No truth can be uttered with more confidence than that his ends were always upright, and his means always pure. He exhibits the rare example of a politician to whom wiles were absolutely unknown, and whose professions to foreign governments and to his own countrymen were always sincere.In him was fully exemplified the real distinction which for ever exists between wisdom and cunning, and the importance as well as truth of the maxim, 'Honesty is the best policy.'
“If Washington possessed ambition, that passion was, in his bosom, so regulated by principles or controlled by circumstances, that it was neither vicious nor turbulent. Intrigue was never employed as the means of its gratification, nor was personal aggrandizement its object. The various high and important stations to which he was called by the public voice, were unsought by himself; and, in consenting to fill them, he seems rather to have yielded to a general conviction that the interests of his country would be thereby promoted, than to an avidity for power.
“Neither the extraordinary partiality of the American people, the extravagant praises which were bestowed upon him, nor the inveterate opposition and malignant calumnies which he encountered, had any visible influence upon his conduct. The cause is to be looked for in the texture of his mind. To him, that innate and unassuming modesty which adulation would have offended, which the voluntary plaudits of millions could not betray into indiscretion, and which never intruded upon others his claims to superior consideration, was happily blended with a high and correct sense of personal dignity, and with a just consciousness of that respect which is due to station. Without exertion, he could maintain the happy medium between that arrogance which wounds and that facility which allows the office to be degraded in the person who fills it.
“It is impossible to contemplate the great events which have occurred in the United States under the auspices of Washington, without ascribing them, in some measure, to him. If we ask the causes of the prosperous issue of a war, against the successful termination of which there were so many probabilities; of the good which was produced, and the ill which was avoided, during an administration fated to contend with the strongest prejudices that a combination of circumstances and of passions could produce; of the favor of the great mass of his fellow-citizens, and of the confidence which, to the last moment of his life, they reposed in him—theanswer, so far as these causes may be found in his character, will furnish a lesson well meriting the attention of those who are candidates for political fame.
“Endowed by nature with a sound judgment and an accurate, discriminating mind, he feared not that laborious attention which made him perfectly master of those subjects, in all their relations, on which he was to decide. And this essential quality was guided by an unvarying sense of moral right, which would tolerate the employment only of those means that would bear the most rigid examination; by a fairness of intention which neither sought nor required disguise; and by a purity of virtue which was not only untainted, but unsuspected.
“Washington's character, so perfect in its harmonious combination of the best and greatest qualities that constitute the true man, has endured the test of criticism for three quarters of a century; and every time it passes through the crucible of severe analysis, in the hands of masters, it appears more perfect than before the ordeal. To this task the best minds of Europe have brought their keenest powers of research, and the conclusion is always the same.”
“The bold and successful passages of the Delaware, and the surprise of the Hessians,” says one of our most accomplished essayists, “awaked in Frederick of Prussia the sympathy and high appreciation which he manifested by the gift of a sword, with an inscription exclusively in praise of Washington's generalship. The moderation of his nature, the heroic balance of his soul, whereby elation was kept in abeyance in the hour of success, not less nobly than despair in the day of misfortune, attracted the French philosopher, habituated as he was, in the history of his own nation, to the association of warlike and civic fame with the extremes of zeal and indifference, of violence and caprice. In his estimation, the good sense and moral consistency of Washington and his compatriots naturally offered the most remarkable problem. Accordingly, Guizot bears witness chiefly to this unprecedented union of comprehensive designs and prudential habits, of aspiration and patience, in the character of Washington; and, doubtless through the contrast with therestless ambition which marks the lives of his own illustrious countrymen, is mainly struck with the fact that, 'while capable of rising to the level of the highest destiny, he might have lived in ignorance of his real power, without suffering from it.' The Italian patriot, obliged to vent his love of country in terse dramatic colloquies, and through the lips of dead heroes, is thrilled with the grand possibilities of action, through the realization of his sentiments by achievement, opened to Washington. Even the poor Indians, so often cajoled out of their rights as to be thoroughly incredulous of good faith among the pale-faces, made him an exception to their rooted distrust. 'The white men are bad,' said an aboriginal chief, in his council-speech, 'and can not dwell in the region of the Great Spirit,except Washington.' And Lord Brougham, in a series of analytical biographies of the renowned men of the last and present century, which indicate a deep study and philosophical estimate of human greatness, closes his sketch of Washington by the emphatic assertion that the test of the progress of mankind will be their appreciation of his character.”[151]
At his installation as chancellor of the University of Edinburgh, in the spring of 1860, Lord Brougham, in his address, after speaking of Napoleon and Wellington, said: “But in Washington we may contemplate every excellence, military and civil, applied to the service of his country and of mankind—a triumphant warrior, unshaken in confidence when the most sanguine had a right to despair; a successful ruler in all the difficulties of a course wholly untried—directing the formation of a new government for a great people, the first time so vast an experiment had ever been tried by man; voluntarily and unostentatiously retiring from supreme power with the veneration of all parties, of all nations, of all mankind, that the rights of men may be conserved, and that his example might never be appealed to by vulgar tyrants. It will be the duty of the historian and the sage, in all ages, to omit no occasion of commemorating this illustrious man; and until time shall be no more, will a test of the progress which our race has made in wisdom and in virtue be derived from the veneration paid to the immortal name ofWashington.”
One of the most beautiful of the many eulogies of the Great Patriot was written, soon after his death, by an unknown hand (supposed to be that of an English gentleman), on the back of a cabinet profile likeness of Washington, executed in crayon, by Sharpless. It is in the form of a monumental inscription. The following is a copy of it:—
WASHINGTON,The Defender of his Country,The Founder of Liberty,The Friend of Man.History and Tradition are explored in vainFor a Parallel to his Character.In the Annals ofModern GreatnessHe stands alone,And the noblest Names of AntiquityLose their Lustre in his Presence.Born theBenefactor of Mankind,He was signally Endowed with all the QualitiesAppropriate to hisIllustrious Career.Naturemade himGreat,And, Heaven-directed,He madehimself Virtuous.Called by his Country to theDefenceof herSoil,And theVindicationof herLiberties,He led to the FieldHer Patriot Armies;And, displaying in rapid and brilliant successionThe United PowersOfConsummate Prudenceand Heroic Valor,He triumphed in ArmsOver the most powerful Nation of Modern Europe;His Sword givingFreedom to America,His Counsels breathingPeace to the World.After a short reposeFrom thetumultuous VicissitudesOf a sanguinary War,The astounding Energies ofWashingtonWere again destined to aNew CourseOfGlory and Usefulness.The Civic WreathWas spontaneously placedBy theGratitudeof theNationOn the Brow of theDelivererof hisCountry.He was twicesolemnly investedWith thePowersofSupreme Magistracy,By theUnanimous VoiceofA Free People;And in hisExaltedandArduousStation,HisWisdomin theCabinetTranscended theGlories of the Field.TheDestiniesofWashingtonWere now complete.Having passed the Meridian of aDevoted Life,Having founded on the PillarsOfNational IndependenceTheSplendid FabricOf aGreat Republic,And having firmly EstablishedThe Empire of the West,He solemnly deposited on theAltar of his CountryHisLaurelsand hisSword,And retired to theShadesOfPrivate Life.ASpectaclesoNewand soSublime,Was contemplated byMankindWith theProfoundest Admiration;And the Name ofWashington,Adding newLustretoHumanity,ResoundedTo the remotest Regions of the Earth.Magnanimous in Youth,Glorious through Life,Great in Death,His highest AmbitionTheHappiness of Mankind,Hisnoblest VictoryTheConquest of Himself.Bequeathing to AmericaTheInheritanceof hisFame,And building hisMonumentIn theHearts of his Countrymen,He Lived,TheOrnamentof the Eighteenth Century;He Died,Lamented by a Mourning World.
WASHINGTON,The Defender of his Country,The Founder of Liberty,The Friend of Man.History and Tradition are explored in vainFor a Parallel to his Character.In the Annals ofModern GreatnessHe stands alone,And the noblest Names of AntiquityLose their Lustre in his Presence.Born theBenefactor of Mankind,He was signally Endowed with all the QualitiesAppropriate to hisIllustrious Career.Naturemade himGreat,And, Heaven-directed,He madehimself Virtuous.Called by his Country to theDefenceof herSoil,And theVindicationof herLiberties,He led to the FieldHer Patriot Armies;And, displaying in rapid and brilliant successionThe United PowersOfConsummate Prudenceand Heroic Valor,He triumphed in ArmsOver the most powerful Nation of Modern Europe;His Sword givingFreedom to America,His Counsels breathingPeace to the World.After a short reposeFrom thetumultuous VicissitudesOf a sanguinary War,The astounding Energies ofWashingtonWere again destined to aNew CourseOfGlory and Usefulness.The Civic WreathWas spontaneously placedBy theGratitudeof theNationOn the Brow of theDelivererof hisCountry.He was twicesolemnly investedWith thePowersofSupreme Magistracy,By theUnanimous VoiceofA Free People;And in hisExaltedandArduousStation,HisWisdomin theCabinetTranscended theGlories of the Field.TheDestiniesofWashingtonWere now complete.Having passed the Meridian of aDevoted Life,Having founded on the PillarsOfNational IndependenceTheSplendid FabricOf aGreat Republic,And having firmly EstablishedThe Empire of the West,He solemnly deposited on theAltar of his CountryHisLaurelsand hisSword,And retired to theShadesOfPrivate Life.ASpectaclesoNewand soSublime,Was contemplated byMankindWith theProfoundest Admiration;And the Name ofWashington,Adding newLustretoHumanity,ResoundedTo the remotest Regions of the Earth.Magnanimous in Youth,Glorious through Life,Great in Death,His highest AmbitionTheHappiness of Mankind,Hisnoblest VictoryTheConquest of Himself.Bequeathing to AmericaTheInheritanceof hisFame,And building hisMonumentIn theHearts of his Countrymen,He Lived,TheOrnamentof the Eighteenth Century;He Died,Lamented by a Mourning World.
FOOTNOTES:[151]Essays, Biographical and Critical; or, Studies of Character. By Henry T. Tuckerman.
[151]Essays, Biographical and Critical; or, Studies of Character. By Henry T. Tuckerman.
[151]Essays, Biographical and Critical; or, Studies of Character. By Henry T. Tuckerman.
Washington, as we have observed in the earlier portion of this work, was passionately fond of field-sports; and during the first years of his married life, and even to the kindling of the Revolution, he frequently indulged in the pleasures of the chase. He was an admirable equestrian, but was not a successful sportsman. He engaged in the chase more for the pleasure produced by the excitement, than for the honors of success. He had quite a large kennel of hounds, and a fine stud of horses. Of these he kept, with his own hand, a careful register, in which might be found the names, ages, and marks of each. With these, his companions of the chase, he was as carefully punctual in his attentions as to any other business of his life. Among the names of his horses were those of Chinkling, Valiant, Ajax, Magnolia, Blueskin, etc. Magnolia was a full-blooded Arabian, and was used for the saddle upon the road. Among the names of his hounds were Vulcan, Ringwood, Singer, Truelove, Music, Sweetlips, Forester, Rockwood, etc. It was his pride (and a proof of his skill in hunting) to have his pack so critically drafted, as to speed and bottom, that in running, if one leading dog should lose the scent, another was at hand immediately to recover it; and thus, when in full cry, to use a racing-phrase, you might “cover the pack with a blanket.”
Mr. Custis, in hisRecollections of Washington, has given some interesting incidents of his life as a sportsman. “During the season,” he says, “Mount Vernon had many sporting guests from the neighborhood, from Maryland, and elsewhere. Their visits were not of days, but weeks; and they were entertained in the good old style ofVirginia's ancient hospitality. Washington, always superbly mounted, in true sporting costume, of blue coat, scarlet waistcoat, buckskin breeches, top-boots, velvet cap, and whip with long thong, took the field at daybreak, with his huntsman, Will Lee, his friends and neighbors.” They usually hunted three times a week, if the weather was favorable.
On the hunting-mornings, breakfast was served at candlelight. Washington seldom partook of anything but Indian-corn cakes and milk. At dawn the whole cavalcade would leave Mount Vernon, and frequently before sunrise the dogs would be in full cry after a fox, Washington usually rode a horse namedBlueskin, a fiery animal, of great endurance, and of a dark, iron-gray color. Billy (who was Washington's body-servant during the war) always kept with the hounds; “and, mounted onChinkling, says Custis, “a French horn at his back, throwing himself almost at length on the animal, with his spurs in flank, this fearless horseman would rush at full speed, through brake and tangled wood, in a style at which modern huntsmen would stand aghast.” When the chase was ended, the party would return to Mount Vernon to dinner, where other than sporting guests were frequently assembled to greet them. The table was always furnished generously; and the expensive style in which Washington kept up his establishment before the Revolution may be inferred from an entry in his diary, in 1768, in which he says, “Would any one believe that, with ahundred and one cows, actually reported at a late enumeration of the cattle, I should still be obliged to buy butter for my family?” During the war, these pleasures were suspended, nor was the sporting establishment ever revived, to any great extent. Lafayette sent Washington some hounds in 1785, but increasing private and public duties caused the master of Mount Vernon to neglect the pleasures in which he once took such delight.
It must not be supposed that, during those years of social enjoyment, Washington neglected any duties. As a member of the Virginia house of burgesses, he was assiduous, punctual, and faithful. As a farmer, he was careful, prudent, and skilful; and he managedhis estate of eight thousand acres with such signal industry and ability, that he was considered a model agriculturist. He did not leave his farms to the entire care of his overseers. He continually exercised a general supervision of his affairs, except when absent on public business; and even then, through weekly reports, which he required his manager to transmit to him regularly, he had a perfect knowledge of all operations, and sometimes gave lengthy and minute directions.
While Washington's table was always bountifully supplied for his guests, he seldom partook of those preparations of the cook which specially please the appetite. He was very abstemious, and never indulged to excess in eating or drinking. His breakfast-hour was seven o'clock in summer, and eight in winter. He usually made a frugal meal of Indian cakes, honey, and tea or coffee, then mounted his horse and visited every part of his estate, where the current operations seemed to require his presence, leaving his guests to enjoy themselves with books and papers, or otherwise, according to their choice. He rode upon his farms entirely unattended, opening the gates, pulling down and putting up the “bars,” and inspecting with careful eye every agricultural operation. Sometimes the tour of his farms in the course of the morning might average, in distance, twelve or fifteen miles. The late Mr. Custis has left on record a description of his appearance on one of these occasions, in the latter years of his life, which he gave to a gentleman who was out in search of Washington. “You will meet, sir" said young Custis to the inquirer, “with an old gentleman riding alone, in plain drab clothes, a broad-brimmed white hat, a hickory switch in his hand, and carrying an umbrella with a long staff, which is attached to his saddle-bow—that person, sir, is General Washington.”
He dined at three o'clock, when he always ate heartily, but of simple food. His usual beverage was small-beer and cider, and Madeira wine. Of the latter he often drank several small glasses at a sitting. He took tea and toast, or a little well-baked bread, early in the evening; conversed with or read to his family when there were no guests; and usually, whether there was company or not,retired for the night at about nine o'clock. He was an early riser, and might be found in his library from one to two hours before daylight in winter, and at dawn in summer. His toilet, plain and simple, was soon made. A single servant prepared his clothes, and laid them in a proper place at night, for use in the morning. He always dressed and shaved himself, and a servant combed and tied his hair. Always neat in his dress and appearance, yet he never wasted precious moments upon his toilet; for he regarded time, not as a gift, but a loan, for which he must account to the Great Master.
The economy practised at Mount Vernon was always exercised by Washington while in public office. He had engaged Samuel Fraunces, the noted innkeeper in New York, as the steward of his household when he was president of the United States. “We are happy to inform our readers,” said Fenno'sGazette, “that the president is determined to pursue that system of regularity and economy in his household which has always marked his public and private life. As a proof of this, we learn that the steward is obliged, by his articles of agreement, to exhibit weekly a fair statement of the receipts and expenditures of moneys by him, for and on account of the president's household, to such person as the president may appoint to inspect the same; together with the several bills and receipts of payment for those articles which may be purchased by him, when such bills and receipts can be obtained. And it is likewise strongly inculcated on the steward to guard against any waste or extravagance that might be committed by the servants of the family.”[152]
The late Reverend Ashbel Green has left on record the following personal reminiscences of Washington during his residence in Philadelphia as chief magistrate of the nation: “After a great deal of talking, and writing, and controversy, about the permanent seat of Congress, under the present constitution, it was determined that Philadelphia should be honored with its presence for ten years, and that afterward its permanent location should be in the city of Washington, where it now is. In the meantime, the federal city was in building; and the legislature of Pennsylvania voted a sum of money to build a house for the president—perhaps with some hope that this might help to keep the seat of the general government in the capital, for Philadelphia was then considered as the capital of the state. What was lately the University of Pennsylvania, was the structure erected for this purpose. But as soon as General Washington saw its dimensions, and a good while before it was finished, he let it be known that he would not occupy it—that he should certainly not go to the expense of purchasing suitable furniture for such a dwelling; for it is to be understood, in those days of stern republicanism, nobody thought of Congressfurnishingthe president's house; or, if perchance such a thought did enter into some aristocratic head, it was too unpopular to be uttered.
“President Washington, therefore, rented a house of Mr. Robert Morris, in Market street, between Fifth and Sixth streets, on the south side, and furnished it handsomely, but not gorgeously. There he lived, with Mrs. Washington; Mr. Lear (his private secretary) and his wife, and Mrs. Washington's grandchildren, making a part of the family. Young Custis had a private tutor, employed by the president, who was engaged to attend on his pupil one hour in the winter mornings, before breakfast; and who, then, commonly breakfasted with the president and his family. The president ate Indian-cakes for breakfast, after the Virginia fashion, although buckwheat-cakes were generally on the table. Washington's dining parties were entertained in a very handsome style. His weekly dining-day, for company, was Thursday, and his dining-hour was always four o'clock in the afternoon. His rule was, to allow five minutes for the variation of clocks and watches, and then go to the table, be present or absent whoever might. He kept his own clock inthe hall, just within the outward door, and always exactly regulated. When lagging members of Congress came in, as they often did, after the guests had sat down to dinner, the president's only apology was, 'Gentlemen (or sir), we are too punctual for you. I have a cook who never asks whether the company has come, but whether the hour has come,' The company usually assembled in the drawing-room, about fifteen or twenty minutes before dinner, and the president spoke to every guest personally on entering the room.
“He was always dressed in a suit of black, his hair powdered and tied in a black queue behind, with a very elegant dress-sword, which he wore with inimitable grace. Mrs. Washington often, but not always, dined with the company, sat at the head of the table, and if, as was occasionally the case, there were other ladies present, they sat each side of her. The private secretary sat at the foot of the table, and was expected to be quietly attentive to all the guests. The president himself sat half way from the head to the foot of the table, and on that side he would place Mrs. Washington, though distant from him, on his right hand. He always, unless a clergyman was present, at his own table, asked a blessing, in a standing posture. If a clergyman were present, he was requested both to ask a blessing, and to return thanks after dinner. The centre of the table contained five or six large silver or plated waiters, those of the ends circular or rather oval on one side, so as to make the arrangement correspond with the oval shape of the table. The waiters between the end-pieces were in the form of parallelograms, the ends about one third part of the length of the sides; and the whole of these waiters were filled with alabaster figures, taken from the ancient mythology, but none of them such as to offend, in the smallest degree, against delicacy. On the outside of the oval, formed by the waiters, were placed the various dishes, always without covers; and outside the dishes were the plates. A small roll of bread, enclosed in a napkin, was laid by the side of each plate. The president, it is believed, generally dined on one dish, and that of a very simple-kind. If offered something, either in the first or second course,which was very rich, his usual reply was, 'That is too good for me.' He had a silver pint cup or mug of beer placed by his plate, which he drank while dining. He took one glass of wine during dinner, and commonly one after. He then retired (the ladies having gone a little before him), and left his secretary to superintend the table till the wine-bibbers of Congress had satisfied themselves with drinking. His wines were always the best that could be obtained. Nothing could exceed the order with which his table was served. Every servant knew what he was to do, and did it in the most quiet and yet rapid manner. The dishes and plates were removed and changed with a silence and speed that seemed like enchantment.”
Washington's personal appearance, and deportment in public and private life, have often been the theme of description. In the year 1790, an English gentleman, of intelligence and culture, was a guest at the presidential mansion, in New York, after Washington had left Franklin square, and taken up his abode in “M'Comb's house,” on the west side of Broadway, near Trinity church. The following account of that visit, supposed to be from the pen of Hazlitt, appeared in the LondonNew Monthly Magazine: “I remember my father telling me he was introduced to Washington, in 1790, by an American friend. A servant, well looking and well dressed, received the visitants at the door, and by him they were delivered over to an officer of the United States service, who ushered them into the drawing-room, in which Mrs. Washington and several ladies were seated. There was nothing remarkable in the person of the lady of the president; she was matronly and kind, with perfect good breeding. She at once entered into easy conversation, asked how long he had been in America, how he liked the country, and such other familiar but general questions. In a few minutes the general was in the room. It was not necessary to announce his name, for his peculiar appearance, his firm forehead, Roman nose, and a projection of the lower jaw, his height and figure, could not be mistaken by any one who had seen a full-length picture of him, and yet no picture accurately resembled him in the minute traits of his person. His features, however, were so marked by prominent characteristics, whichappear in all likenesses of him, that a stranger could not be mistaken in the man. He was remarkably dignified in his manners, and had an air of benignity over his features which his visitant did not expect, being rather prepared for sternness of countenance.
“After an introduction by Mrs. Washington, without more form than common good manners prescribes, 'he requested me,' said my father, 'to be seated; and, taking a chair himself, entered at once into conversation. His manner was full of affability. He asked how I liked the country, the city of New York; talked of the infant institutions of America, and the advantages she offered, by her intercourse, for benefiting other nations. He was grave in manner, but perfectly easy. His dress was of purple satin. There was a commanding air in his appearance which excited respect, and forbade too great a freedom toward him, independently of that species of awe which is always felt in the moral influence of a great character. In every movement, too, there was a polite gracefulness equal to any met with in the most polished individuals in Europe, and his smile was extraordinarily attractive. It was observed to me that there was an expression in Washington's face that no painter had succeeded in taking. It struck me no man could be better formed for command. A stature of six feet, a robust but well-proportioned frame, calculated to sustain fatigue, without that heaviness which generally attends great muscular strength and abates active exertion, displayed bodily power of no mean standard. A light eye and full—the very eye of genius and reflection, rather than of blind, passionate impulse. His nose appeared thick, and, though it befitted his other features, was too coarsely and strongly formed to be the handsomest of its class. His mouth was like no other that I ever saw; the lips firm, and the under jaw seeming to grasp the upper with force, as if its muscles were in full action when he sat still. Neither with the general nor with Mrs. Washington was there the slightest restraint of ceremony. There was less of it than I ever recollect to have met with where perfect good breeding and manners were at the same time observed. To many remarks Washington assented with a smile or inclination of the head, as if he wereby nature sparing in his conversation, and I am inclined to think this was the case. An allusion was made to a serious fit of illness he had recently suffered; but he took no notice of it. I could not help remarking that America must have looked with anxiety to the termination of his indisposition. He made no reply to my compliment but by an inclination of the head. His bow at my taking leave I shall never forget. It was the last movement which I saw that illustrious character make, as my eyes took their leave of him for ever, and it hangs a perfect picture upon my recollection. The house of Washington was in the Broadway, and the street front was handsome. The drawing-room in which I sat was lofty and spacious; but the furniture was not beyond that found in dwellings of opulent Americans in general, and might be called plain for its situation. The upper end of the room had glass doors, which opened upon a balcony, commanding an extensive view of the Hudson river, interspersed with islands, and the Jersey shore on the opposite side. A grandson and daughter resided constantly in the house with the general, and a nephew of the general's, married to a niece of Mrs. Washington, resided at Mount Vernon, the general's family-seat in Virginia; his residence, as president, keeping him at the seat of government.' The levees held by Washington, as president, were generally crowded, and held on Tuesday, between three and four o'clock. The president stood, and received the bow of the person presented, who retired to make way for another. At the drawing-room, Mrs. Washington received the ladies, who courtesied, and passed aside without exchanging a word. Tea and coffee, with refreshments of all kinds, were laid in one part of the rooms; and, before the individuals of the company retired, each lady was a second time led up to the lady-president, made her second silent obeisance, and departed. Nothing could be more simple, yet it was enough.”
The late Mr. Custis, in hisRecollections of Washington, says: “With all its developments of muscular power, the form of Washington had no appearance of bulkiness; and so harmonious were its proportions, that he did not appear so passing tall as his portraits have represented.He was rather spare than full during his whole life; this is readily ascertained from his weight. The last time he weighed was in the summer of 1799, when, having made the tour of his farms, accompanied by an English gentleman, he called at his mill and was weighed. The writer placed the weight in the scales. The Englishman, not so tall, but stout, square built, and fleshy, weighed heavily, and expressed much surprise that the general had not outweighed him, when Washington observed that the best weight of his best days never exceeded from two hundred and ten to two hundred and twenty pounds. In the instance alluded to, he weighed a little rising two hundred and ten. In the prime of life, Washington stood six feet two inches, and measured precisely six feet when attired for the grave.
“The power of Washington's arm was displayed in several memorable instances: in his throwing a stone from the bed of the stream to the top of the Natural Bridge; another over the Palisades into the Hudson; and yet another across the Rappahannock, at Fredericksburg. Of the article with which he spanned this noble and navigable stream, there are various accounts. We are assured that it was a piece of slate, fashioned to about the size and shape of a dollar, and which, sent by an arm so strong, not only spanned the river, but took the ground at least thirty yards on the other side. Numbers have since tried this feat, but none have cleared the water. 'Tis the 'Douglas cast,' made in the days when Virginia's men were strong, as her maids are fair; when the hardy sports of the gymnasium prepared the body to answer the 'trumpet-call to war,' and gave vigor and elevation to the mind; while our modern habits would rather fit the youth 'to caper nimbly in a lady's chamber.'
“While the late and venerable Charles Willson Peale was at Mount Vernon, in 1772, engaged in painting the portrait of the provincial colonel, some young men were contending in the exercise of pitching the bar. Washington looked on for a time, then grasping the missile in his master-hand, whirled the iron through the air, which took the ground far, very far, beyond any of its former limits; the colonel observing, with a smile, 'You perceive,young gentlemen, that my arm yet retains some portion of the vigor of my earlier days.' He was then in his fortieth year, and probably in the full meridian of his physical powers; but those powers became rather mellowed than decayed by time, for 'his age was like a lusty winter, frosty yet kindly;' and, up to his sixty-eighth year, he mounted a horse with surprising agility, and rode with the ease and gracefulness of his better days. His personal prowess, that elicited the admiration of a people who have nearly all passed from the stage of life, still serves as a model for the manhood of modern times.
“In the various exhibitions of Washington's great physical powers, they were apparently attended by scarcely any effort. On one occasion, when quite a young man, he was present while others were trying their strength in wrestling. He had retired to the shade of a tree, intent upon the perusal of a favorite volume; and it was only when the champion of the games strode through the ring, calling for nobler competitors, and taunting the student with the reproach that it was the fear of encountering so redoubted an antagonist that kept him from the ring, that Washington closed his book, and, without divesting himself of his coat, calmly walked into the arena, observing that fear formed no part of his being. Then, grappling with the champion, the struggle was fierce, but momentary, 'for,' said the vanquished hero of the arena, 'in Washington's lion-like grasp, I became powerless, and was hurled to the ground with a force that seemed to jar the very marrow in my bones;' while the victor, regardless of the shouts that proclaimed his triumph, leisurely retired to his shade, and the enjoyment of his favorite volume.
“Washington's powers were chiefly in his limbs: they were long, large, and sinewy. His frame was of equal breadth from the shoulders to the hips. His chest, though broad and expansive, was not prominent, but rather hollowed in the centre. He had suffered from a pulmonary affection in early life, from which he never entirely recovered. His frame showed an extraordinary development of bone and muscle; his joints were large, as were his feet; andcould a cast have been preserved of his hand, to be exhibited in these degenerate days, it would be said to have belonged to the being of a fabulous age. During Lafayette's visit to Mount Vernon in 1825, he said to the writer: 'I never saw so large a hand on any human being, as the general's. It was in this portico, in 1784, that you were introduced to me by the general. You were a very little gentleman, with a feather in your hat, and holding fast toone fingerof the good general's remarkable hand, which was all you could do, my dear sir, at that time.'”
A late anonymous writer says: “I saw this remarkable man four times. It was in the month of November, 1798, I first beheld the Father of his Country. It was very cold, the northwest wind blowing hard down the Potomac, at Georgetown, D. C. A troop of light-horse, from Alexandria, escorted him to the western bank of the river. The waves ran high, and the boat which brought him over seemed to labor considerably. Several thousand people greeted his arrival with swelling hearts and joyful countenances. The military were drawn up in a long line to receive him; the officers, pressed in regimentals, did him homage. I was so fortunate as to walk by his side, and had a full view of him. Although only about ten years of age, the impression his person and manner then made on me is now perfectly revived. He was six feet and one inch high, broad and athletic, with very large limbs, entirely erect, and without the slightest tendency to stooping; his hair was white, and tied with a silk string; his countenance lofty, masculine, and contemplative; his eye light gray. He was dressed in the clothes of a citizen, and over these a blue surtout of the finest cloth. His weight must have been two hundred and thirty pounds, with no superfluous flesh; all was bone and sinew; and he walked like a soldier. Whoever has seen, in the patent-office at Washington, the dress he wore when resigning his commission as commander-in-chief, in December, 1783, at once perceives how large and magnificent was his frame. During the parade, something at a distance suddenly attracted his attention; his eye was instantaneously lighted up as with the lightning's flash. At this moment I see its marvellousanimation, its glowing fire, exhibiting strong passion, controlled by deliberate reason.
“In the summer of 1799, I again saw the chief. He rode a purely white horse, seventeen hands high, well proportioned, of high spirit: he almost seemed conscious that he bore on his back the Father of his Country. He reminded me of the war-horse whose 'neck is clothed with thunder.' I have seen some highly-accomplished riders, but not one of them approached Washington; he was perfect in this respect. Behind him, at the distance of perhaps forty yards, came Billy Lee, his body-servant, who had perilled his life in many a field, beginning on the heights of Boston, in 1775, and ending in 1781, when Cornwallis surrendered, and the captive army, with inexpressible chagrin, laid down their arms at Yorktown. Billy rode a cream-colored horse, of the finest form; and his old Revolutionary cocked hat indicated that its owner had often heard the roar of cannon and small-arms, and had encountered many trying scenes. Billy was a dark mulatto. His master speaks highly of him in his will, and provides for his support.
“Some time during this year, perhaps, I saw him at Seeme's tavern, in Georgetown. The steps, porch, and street, were crowded with persons desirous of beholding the man. I viewed him through a window. The most venerable, dignified, and wealthy men of the town were there, some conversing with him. Washington seemed almost a different being from any of them, and, indeed, from any other person ever reared in this country. His countenance was not so animated as when I first saw him, for then his complexion was as ruddy as if he were only twenty years old.
“A few months before his death, I beheld this extraordinary man for the last time. He stopped at the tavern opposite the Presbyterian church, in Bridge street, Georgetown. At that time, a regiment of soldiers was stationed in their tents, on the banks of Rock creek, and frequently attended Doctor Balch's church, dressed in their costume, and powdered after the Revolutionary fashion. I attended their parade almost every day; and, on one of these occasions,I recognised Washington riding on horseback, unaccompanied by any one. He was going out to see his houses on Capitol hill, as I supposed. They were burnt by the British, in 1814. My youthful eye was riveted on him until he disappeared, and that for ever. I was surprised that he did not once look at the parade, so far as I could discover; on the contrary, he appeared indifferent to the whole scene.”
“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 theNational Intelligencer, a few years ago, gave the following sketch of the personal appearance of Washington:—