raft into the deep and angry waters of a wide and rushing Western river,
thus separated from his only companion through the wilderness with no
aid for miles and leagues about him, buffeting the rapid current and
struggling through driving cakes of ice; when we behold the stealthy
savage, whose aim against all other marks is unerring, pointing his
rifle deliberately at him, and firing over and over again; when we see
him riding through showers of bullets on Braddock's fatal field, and
reflect that never, during his whole life, was he ever wounded, or even
touched by a hostile force--do we not feel that he was guarded by an
unseen hand, warding off every danger? No peril by flood or field was
permitted to extinguish a life consecrated to the hopes of humanity and
to the purposes of Heaven.
For more than sixteen years he rested from his warfare, amid the shades
of Mount Vernon; ripening his mind by reading and reflection, increasing
his knowledge of practical affairs, entering into the whole experience
of a citizen at home and on his farm, and as a delegate to the Colonial
Assembly. When, at last, the war broke out, and the unanimous voice of
the Continental Congress invested him, as the exigency required, with
almost unbounded authority, as their Commander-in-Chief, he blended,
although still in the prime of his life, in the mature bloom of his
manhood, the attributes of a sage with those of a hero. A more
perfectly fitted and furnished character has never appeared on the
theater of human action than when, reining up his war-horse beneath the
majestic and venerable elm, still standing at the entrance of the
Watertown road to Cambridge, George Washington unsheathed his sword and
assumed the command of the gathered armies of American Liberty.
* * * * *
WASHINGTON AS HE LOOKED
From _The Christian Endeavor World_
According to Captain Mercer, the following describes Washington when he
took his seat in the House of Burgesses in 1759:
He is as straight as an Indian, measuring six feet two inches in
his stockings, and weighing one hundred and seventy-five pounds.
His head is well shaped, though not large, and is gracefully poised
on a superb neck, with a large, and straight rather than prominent
nose; blue-gray penetrating eyes, which are widely separated and
overhung by heavy brows. A pleasing, benevolent, though commanding
countenance, dark-brown hair, features regular and placid, with all
the muscles under control, with a large mouth, generally firmly
closed.
Houdon's bust accords with this description.
III
THE GENERAL
WASHINGTON IS APPOINTED COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF[8]
BY SYDNEY GEORGE FISHER
On the 16th of June, the day before the battle of Bunker Hill, the
Congress, having accepted Massachusetts' gift of the army before Boston,
gave the command of it to Colonel George Washington, of Virginia, and
made him a general and commander-in-chief of all the forces of the
patriot cause.
Hancock, it is said, had ambitions in that direction, and was somewhat
disappointed at the choice. But the fitness of Washington for the office
was generally admitted as soon as John Adams urged his appointment. He
would conciliate the moderate patriots, for he had clung to the old
arguments as long as possible, and refrained from forcing events. If
substantial independence of Parliament and the Ministry could be
secured, he was willing to allow the King a vague or imaginary headship
until in the course of years that excrescence should slough away.
Many were inclined to think that a New England general should command
the New England army that was gathered before Boston; but they were
obliged to admit that the appointment of a general from Virginia, the
most populous and prosperous of the colonies, would tend to draw the
Southern interest to the patriot cause.
Washington was forty-three years old, which was the right age for
entering upon the supreme command in what might be a long war. He had
distinguished himself by helping to rescue Braddock's defeated army in
1755, and he had taken a more or less prominent part in the subsequent
campaigns which ended in driving the French out of Canada. This military
education and experience seemed slight, and not equal to that of the
British officers who would be opposed to him. But it was American
experience, no colonist was any better equipped, and he was of a larger
intelligence than Putnam, Ward, and other Americans who had served in
the French War.
His strong character and personality had impressed themselves upon his
fellow-delegates in the Congress. It was this impressive personality
which made his career and brought to him grave responsibility without
effort on his part to seek office or position. When he was only
twenty-one the governor of Virginia had sent him through the wilderness
to interview the French commander near Lake Erie, a mission which
required the hardihood of the hunter and some of the shrewd intelligence
of the diplomat.
But much to the surprise of travelers and visitors, Washington never
appeared to be a brilliant man. He was always a trifle reserved, and
this habit grew on him with years. His methods of work were homely and
painstaking, reminding us somewhat of Lincoln; and the laborious
carefulness of his military plans seemed to European critics to imply a
lack of genius.
But it was difficult to judge him by European standards, because the
conditions of the warfare he conducted were totally unlike anything in
Europe. He never commanded a real army with well-organized departments
and good equipment. His troops were usually barefooted, half-starved,
and for several years incapable of performing the simplest parade
manoeuvre. Brilliant movements, except on a small scale, as at
Princeton, were rarely within his reach; and large complicated movements
were impossible because he had not the equipment of officers and
organization for handling large bodies of men spread out over a great
extent of country. He was obliged to adopt the principle of
concentration and avoid making detachments or isolated movements that
could be cut off by the British. To some of his contemporaries it
therefore seemed that his most striking ability lay in conciliating
local habits and prejudices, harmonizing discordant opinions, and
holding together an army which seemed to the British always on the eve
of disbanding.
He reasoned out, however, in his own way, the peculiar needs of every
military position, and how he did this will appear more clearly as our
narrative progresses. He often spoke of his own lack of military
experience, as well as of the lack of it in the officers about him; and
this seems to have led him to study every situation like a beginner,
with exhaustive care, consulting with everybody, calling councils of war
on every possible occasion, and reasoning out his plans with minute
carefulness. This method, which his best friends sometimes ridiculed,
was in striking contrast to the method of one of his own officers,
General Greene, and also to the method of Grant in the Civil War. Both
Greene and Grant dispensed altogether with laborious consultations and
councils of war.
But the laborious method was well suited to Washington, whose mind was
never satisfied unless it could strike a balance among a great mass of
arguments and details which must be obtained from others, and not
through his own imagination. He liked to reserve his decision until the
last moment, and this trait was sometimes mistaken for weakness. His
preparedness and devotion to details remind us of Napoleon. His
cautious, balancing, weighing habit, developed by lifelong practice,
runs through all his letters and every act of his life, appearing in
some of the great events of his career as a superb and masterful
equipoise. It became very impressive even to those who ridiculed it; it
could inspire confidence through years of disaster and defeat; and it
enabled him to grasp the general strategy of the war so thoroughly that
no military critic has ever detected him in a mistake.
As a soldier he fought against distinguished British officers four
pitched battles--Long Island, Brandywine, Germantown, and Monmouth; in
the first three of which he was defeated, and the last was a draw. He
conducted two sieges--Boston and Yorktown--in both of which he was
successful; and he destroyed two outposts--Trenton and Princeton--in a
manner generally regarded as so brilliant and effective that he saved
the patriot cause from its first period of depression. His
characteristics as a soldier were farseeing judgment and circumspection,
a certain long-headedness, as it might be called, and astonishing
ability to recover from and ignore a defeat. In his pitched battles,
like Long Island and Brandywine, he knew that defeat was probable, and
he prepared for it.[9]
He was compelled to act so much on the defensive, and the British
methods were so slow, that his activities in the field were not numerous
when we consider that he was in command for seven years. The greater
part of his time and energy was employed in building up the cause by
mild, balanced, but wonderfully effective arguments; reconciling
animosities by tactful precautions; and by the confidence his
personality inspired preventing the army from disbanding. A large part
of this labor was put forth in writing letters of wonderful beauty and
perfection in the literary art, when we consider the end they were to
accomplish. Complete editions of his writings of this sort usually fill
a dozen or more large volumes; and there have been few if any great
generals of the world who have accomplished so much by writing, or who
have been such consummate masters of language.
Sufficient care has not always been taken to distinguish between the
different periods of his life. He aged rapidly at the close of the
Revolution; his reserved manner and a certain "asperity of temper," as
Hamilton called it, greatly increased; and some years afterwards, when
President, he had become a very silent and stiffly formal man, far
different from the young soldier who, in the prime of life, drew his
sword beneath the old elm at Cambridge to take command of the patriot
army.
The Virginians of his time appear to have had occupations and social
intercourse which educated them in a way we are unable to imitate.
Washington in his prime was a social and convivial man, fond of cards,
fine horses, and fox-hunting. Although not usually credited with book
learning, his letters and conduct in the Revolution show that he was
quite familiar with the politics of foreign countries and the general
information of his time. We have not yet learned to appreciate the full
force of his intellect and culture.
FOOTNOTES:
[8] From "The Struggle for American Independence," by Sydney George
Fisher. Copyright by J.B. Lippincott & Co., Philadelphia.
[9] Limiting by his foresight the extent of his loss, guarding by his
disposition security of retreat, and repairing with celerity the injury
sustained, his relative condition was often ameliorated, although
victory adorned the brow of his adversary.--LEE, _Memoirs_, Vol. I, p.
237.
* * * * *
WASHINGTON AT TRENTON[10]
_The Battle Monument, October 19, 1893_
BY RICHARD WATSON GILDER
Since ancient Time began
Ever on some great soul God laid an infinite burden--
The weight of all this world, the hopes of man.
Conflict and pain, and fame immortal are his guerdon!
And this the unfaltering token
Of him, the Deliverer--what though tempests beat,
Though all else fail, though bravest ranks be broken,
He stands unscared, alone, nor ever knows defeat
Such was that man of men;
And if are praised all virtues, every fame
Most noble, highest, purest--then, ah! then,
Upleaps in every heart the name none needs to name.
Ye who defeated, 'whelmed,
Betray the sacred cause, let go the trust;
Sleep, weary, while the vessel drifts unhelmed;
Here see in triumph rise the hero from the dust!
All ye who fight forlorn
'Gainst fate and failure; ye who proudly cope
With evil high enthroned; all ye who scorn
Life from Dishonor's hand, here take new heart of hope.
Here know how Victory borrows
For the brave soul a front as of disaster,
And in the bannered East what glorious morrows
For all the blackness of the night speed surer, faster.
Know by this pillared sign
For what brief while the powers of earth and hell
Can war against the spirit of truth divine,
Or can against the heroic heart of man prevail.
FOOTNOTES:
[10] _By permission of the publishers, Houghton, Mifflin & Co._
* * * * *
GEORGE WASHINGTON
From "_Washington and the Generals of the Revolution_"
It is a truth, illustrated in daily experience, and yet rarely noted or
acted upon, that, in all that concerns the appreciation of personal
character or ability, the instinctive impressions of a community are
quicker in their action, more profoundly appreciant, and more reliable,
than the intellectual perceptions of the ablest men in the community.
Upon all those subjects that are of moral apprehension, society seems to
possess an intelligence of its own, infinitely sensitive in its
delicacy, and almost conclusive in the certainty of its determinations;
indirect, and unconscious in its operation, yet unshunnable in sagacity,
and as strong and confident as nature itself. The highest and finest
qualities of human judgment seem to be in commission among the nation,
or the race. It is by such a process, that whenever a true hero appears
among mankind, the recognition of his character, by the general sense of
humanity, is instant and certain: the belief of the chief priests and
rulers of mind, follows later, or comes not at all. The perceptions of a
public are as subtly-sighted, as its passions are blind. It sees, and
feels, and knows the excellence, which it can neither understand, nor
explain, nor vindicate. These involuntary opinions of people at large
explain themselves, and are vindicated by events, and form at last the
constants of human understanding. A character of the first order of
greatness, such as seems to pass out of the limits and course of
ordinary life, often lies above the ken of intellectual judgment; but
its merits and its infirmities never escape the sleepless perspicacity
of the common sentiment, which no novelty of form can surprise, and no
mixture of qualities can perplex. The mind--the logical
faculty--comprehends a subject, when it can trace in it the same
elements, or relations, which it is familiar with elsewhere: if it finds
but a faint analogy of form or substance, its decision is embarrassed.
But this other instinct seems to become subtler, and more rapid, and
more absolute in conviction, at the line where reason begins to falter.
Take the case of Shakespeare. His surpassing greatness was never
acknowledged by the learned until the nation had ascertained and settled
it as a foregone and questionless conclusion. Even now, to the most
sagacious mind of this time, the real ground and evidence of its own
assurance of Shakespeare's supremacy, is the universal, deep, immovable
conviction of it in the public feeling. There have been many acute
essays upon his minor characteristics; but intellectual criticism has
never grappled with Shakespearian art, in its entireness and grandeur,
and probably it never will. We know not now wherein his greatness
consists. We cannot demonstrate it. There is less indistinctness in the
merit of less eminent authors. Those things which are not doubts to our
consciousness, are yet mysteries to our mind. And if this is true of
literary art, which is so much within the sphere of reflection, it may
be expected to find more striking illustration in great practical and
public moral characters.
These considerations occur naturally to the mind in contemplating the
fame of Washington. An attentive examination of the whole subject, and
of all that can contribute to the formation of a sound opinion, results
in the belief that General Washington's _mental_ abilities illustrate
the very highest type of greatness. His _mind_, probably, was one of
the very greatest that was ever given to mortality. Yet it is impossible
to establish that position by a direct analysis of his character, or
conduct, or productions. When we look at the incidents or the results of
that great career--when we contemplate the qualities by which it is
marked from its beginning to its end--the foresight which never was
surprised, the judgment which nothing could deceive, the wisdom whose
resources were incapable of exhaustion--combined with a spirit as
resolute in its official duties as it was moderate in its private
pretensions, as indomitable in its public temper as it was gentle in its
personal tone--we are left in wonder and reverence. But when we would
enter into the recesses of that mind--when we would discriminate upon
its construction, and reason upon its operations--when we would tell how
it was composed, and why it excelled--we are entirely at fault. The
processes of Washington's understanding are entirely hidden from us.
What came from it, in counsel or in action, was the life and glory of
his country; what went on within it, is shrouded in impenetrable
concealment. Such elevation in degree, of wisdom, amounts almost to a
change of kind, in nature, and detaches his intelligence from the
sympathy of ours. We cannot see him as he was, because we are not like
him. The tones of the mighty bell were heard with the certainty of Time
itself, and with a force that vibrates still upon the air of life, and
will vibrate forever. But the clock-work, by which they were regulated
and given forth, we can neither see nor understand. In fact, his
intellectual abilities did not exist in an analytical and separated
form; but in a combined and concrete state. They "moved altogether when
they moved at all." They were in no degree speculative, but only
practical. They could not act at all in the region of imagination, but
only upon the field of reality. The sympathies of his intelligence
dwelt exclusively in the national being and action. Its interests and
energies were absorbed in them. He was nothing out of that sphere,
because he was everything there. The extent to which he was identified
with the country is unexampled in the relations of individual men to the
community. During the whole period of his life he was the thinking part
of the nation. He was its mind; it was his image and illustration. If we
would classify and measure him, it must be with nations, and not with
individuals.
This extraordinary nature of Washington's capacities--this impossibility
of analyzing and understanding the elements and methods of his
wisdom--have led some persons to doubt whether, intellectually, he was
of great superiority; but the public--the community--never doubted of
the transcendant eminence of Washington's abilities. From the first
moment of his appearance as the chief, the recognition of him, from one
end of the country to the other, as THE MAN--the leader, the counselor,
the infallible in suggestion and in conduct--was immediate and
universal. From that moment to the close of the scene, the national
confidence in his capacity was as spontaneous, as enthusiastic, as
immovable, as it was in his integrity. Particular persons, affected by
the untoward course of events, sometimes questioned his sufficiency; but
the nation never questioned it, nor would allow it to be questioned.
Neither misfortune, nor disappointment, nor accidents, nor delay, nor
the protracted gloom of years, could avail to disturb the public trust
in him. It was apart from circumstances; it was beside the action of
caprice; it was beyond all visionary, and above all changeable feelings.
It was founded on nothing extraneous; not upon what he had said or done,
but upon what he was. They saw something in the man, which gave them
assurance of a nature and destiny of the highest elevation--something
inexplicable, but which inspired a complete satisfaction. We feel that
this reliance was wise and right; but why it was felt, or why it was
right, we are as much to seek as those who came under the direct
impression of his personal presence. It is not surprising, that the
world recognizing in this man a nature and a greatness which philosophy
cannot explain, should revere him almost to religion. The distance and
magnitude of those objects which are too far above us to be estimated
directly--such as stars--are determined by their parallax. By some
process of that kind we may form an approximate notion of Washington's
greatness. We may measure him against the great events in which he
moved; and against the great men, among whom, and above whom, his figure
stood like a tower. It is agreed that the War of American Independence
is one of the most exalted, and honorable, and difficult achievements
related in history. Its force was contributed by many; but its grandeur
was derived from Washington. His character and wisdom gave unity, and
dignity, and effect to the irregular, and often divergent enthusiasm of
others. His energy combined the parts; his intelligence guided the
whole: his perseverance, and fortitude, and resolution, were the
inspiration and support of all. In looking back over that period, his
presence seems to fill the whole scene; his influence predominates
throughout; his character is reflected from everything. Perhaps nothing
less than his immense weight of mind could have kept the national
system, at home, in that position which it held, immovably, for seven
years; perhaps nothing but the august respectability which his demeanor
threw around the American cause abroad, would have induced a foreign
nation to enter into an equal alliance with us upon terms that
contributed in a most important degree to our final success, or would
have caused Great Britain to feel that no great indignity was suffered
in admitting the claim to national existence of a people who had such a
representative as Washington. What but the most eminent qualities of
mind and feeling--discretion superhuman--readiness of invention, and
dexterity of means, equal to the most desperate affairs--endurance,
self-control, regulated ardor, restrained passion, caution mingled with
boldness, and all the contrarieties of moral excellence--could have
expanded the life of an individual into a career such as this?