It is natural that at this time our thoughts should turn toward two of
our great national heroes. This month is to us not merely the month of
February, marking one of the twelve divisions of our calendar year,
but it is a continuous memorial of two of our revered statesmen. We
read all we can about our glorified dead, we search the words spoken by
them, we visit the places where they toiled for us, and we scan even
their homes trying to form a picture of their lives. We do even more.
We presume to imagine their thoughts and conjure up the very ideas
which might have occurred to them as they stood in these spots now
hallowed by memories of them.
It is a fascinating occupation to fathom the characters of truly
great men and contemplate their attitude toward various subjects.
Sometimes mere conjectures are the fruit of our toil. At other times
sure conclusions are reached from facts which are brought to light.
Stories galore are told of both Lincoln and Washington, which help us
more vividly to picture their natures. The question in which we are
interested could easily be answered if we knew these men, but still
as we are acquainted with the manifestations of their characteristics
we can answer it almost as satisfactorily. Did Lincoln and Washington
love nature? Could they appreciate her beauties, and did they evince an
interest in her creations?
Lincoln in his log-cabin home, splitting rails, working on the farm,
hunting coons, driving the horses and cattle, must have found a
glorious opportunity to become acquainted with this great mother of
ours. The son of a pioneer who, with his great covered wagon, cattle,
family, and household belongings, wanders over the country, whose
only neighbors for hundreds of miles are the birds in the woods, the
rabbits in the field, and the fish in the stream, the son of such a
man certainly sees nature as few of our city-bred, World's Fair,
Paris Exposition young people, can imagine it. Lincoln was content
with these, his neighbors. Never do we hear sighs from him and wishes
that his lot might be exchanged for that of another, even if his lot
was toilsome and lonely. Who can tell but he thus imbibed his love for
pure freedom undefiled and his lofty conceptions of this life in its
relation to this world and something beyond?
We cannot doubt that the great, tall, clumsy lad had a real love in his
heart for the little feathered and furry friends about him, and not
simply a love for the beautiful ones, but what is far higher a feeling
of sympathy even for the ugly and a genuine tender solicitude for all.
Even when the youth became a man perplexed by business and political
problems his nature remained unaltered. Once when a party of his
friends on a judicial circuit stopped to water their horses, Lincoln
was not there. His companion on the way was asked of his whereabouts.
He replied that the last he had seen of Lincoln he was hunting around
for a bird's nest, two of the former occupants of which he held in his
hand. The wind had blown the tiny nestlings from their snug little
home and the greathearted man was trying to find the nest for the wee,
helpless chirpers. The same great heart which felt the human cry of
pain as keenly as the bewildered cry of the little birds gave its last
throb to restore little black nestlings to the warm comfort of free
homes protected by law.
There is an amusing incident, told probably as a "good one" upon the
politician, but which has more than an amusing side to us. Lincoln
was one of a party of ladies and gentlemen, dressed in their best,
journeying along a country road. Their attention was arrested by the
distressed squealings of a pig. There it was by the roadside, caught
in a fence. Of course a general laugh followed. To the astonishment
of all Lincoln, clad as he was, dismounted from his horse and released
the poor animal. He could not see even an occupant of the pigsty suffer
without feelings of sympathy.
We expect different stories of Washington, a different attitude toward
nature and animals, just as the nature of the man was different. Visit
Mt. Vernon and at once you feel his relation to the natural world, a
love and keen appreciation of the beautiful in nature, with a thorough
conviction that where man tampers with the rough beauties of nature a
severe orderliness, precision, and care must be manifested.
Seated upon his front veranda, Washington beheld every day a scene of
beauty, one gaze at which stays with a stranger for months and for
years. The green of his own lawn ending abruptly not far away with
the decline of the bluff, the tops of a few trees farther down just
visible, and the blue waters of the Potomac bounded in the distance by
the bluff of the opposite bank; to the right a carefully mowed lawn
sloping away in natural terraces to the bank of the river; to the left
a small sward and orchard; behind the house a large green plot. It is
to the left of the beautiful, sunny, open space behind the house that
the garden is found. Every visitor must spend a few moments there,
admiring the hedges, the neatly-trimmed boxtrees, the regular formal
designs, and incidentally bidding "Good-day" to the saucy little
squirrel who scampers about the paths. It is an interesting spot as
revealing what Washington considered the beauty of scenic gardening.
Washington is said to have loved noble horses and to have taken great
pride in his stables. He always drove white horses with hoofs painted
black. Of dogs, too, he was exceedingly fond and kept an accurate
account of the pedigree of every animal belonging to the estate.
Usually he drove in a carriage drawn by a span while his family came
next in a larger vehicle drawn by four horses. On state occasions he
allowed himself the luxury of an elegant coach and six.
Varied are the feelings with which one views the estate of our first
president. It is almost impossible in the midst of all this beauty
to realize that it was the same man who enjoyed this peaceful home
of luxury and spent that awful winter at Valley Forge or crossed the
Delaware amid the floating ice. The quiet restfulness of Mt. Vernon
must have been a haven of peace to the valiant soldier who faced the
enemy so bravely, to the statesman who toiled so assiduously for his
country, and to the heart of human sympathy returning even from the
cities of 1776.
At the foot of a gentle slope about midway between the house and the
boat-landing is the tomb of the Washington family. The very aged, gray
resting-place has been exchanged for one of more modern design. An open
vault in front with a protection of iron grating and other chambers
extending into the earth form the tomb. It is with awe that the visitor
approaches the open vault to gaze upon the gray sarcophagi of George
and Martha Washington standing out in bold relief against the dark gray
walls and background. Few are the letters sculptured upon the stone
caskets, but above in the wall behind them is a square slab bearing the
words: "I am the resurrection and the life; he that believeth on me
shall not perish but have everlasting life."
It is touching to see the tributes which have been paid to this great
man, the trees planted in his honor, the monuments erected to his
memory, but none is more touching than the unconscious tribute which
nature herself is giving. The tomb is silent and cold. One thinks of
the sterner qualities of the dead, when a bit of color catches the eye.
There above the sarcophagi in a corner of the inscribed tablet nestle
two little yellow birds, a fitting tribute of Mother Nature to her love
and trustfulness in one of her noblest sons.
* * * * *
England holds the honor of having first formed societies for the
prevention of cruelty to animals and of having first legislated for its
punishment.