See America First Part 8

When visiting the palace of King Louis XIV of France at Versailles and the hundreds of rooms that accommodated his courtiers and their servants, also the two large wings which housed The State Ministers and contained their offices, you are greatly impressed at the Herculean labor and immense cost such magnificence must have required. Here the best artists of his time, by long years of patient toil, and money in profusion, were employed on this glorification of a man.

Here was laid out a vast and beautiful garden, filled with n.o.ble statues and marble basins, that extended its geometrical alleys and lines of symmetrical trees to a park around which spread the magnificent forest. You see the room in which our great and ill.u.s.trious Franklin stayed and marvel at the glorious Hall of Mirrors where the Peace Conference met. Yet you are glad to get out and contemplate that wonderful avenue of European elms whose straight round trunks, bearing innumerable branches which divide again and again, form glorious fountain-like crests of verdure.

But with what a different feeling you look upon the home of Washington. Here, too, visitors find in the wonderful trees a symbol of something serene, protective, sacred, so like the man who once walked beneath them.

"The dawn of great events in which Washington was to play such an important part began to blow on the eastern horizon of New England." From the ocean-bordered sh.o.r.es were faint streaks of light that ere long began to deepen into hues of a sanguine color that seemed to presage a tempest. At first the sound was like the faint lisping murmur of pines along the sh.o.r.e or the sobbing surf as it retreated from the charge it made; but ere long it broke forth in loud, angry tones like the wailing of branches on a stormy night or the booming breakers on the stern rocks of her rugged coast, until the dwellers of the interior heard the ominous sound and made ready to defend those inalienable rights of man, liberty and justice.

The aeolian melodies of freedom were heard by the Master of Mount Vernon as he walked beneath his liberty loving trees. It was not easy to leave a charming home where happiness and love reigned supreme; yet when the call, that echoed from far New England's rugged sh.o.r.es, rebounded from fair Virginia's hills Washington sacrificed all the pleasures of love and home on the altar of Freedom.

We admired the picturesque seed house with its ivy covered walls and dormer windows, quite as much as the mansion itself. This was built for the storing of seed and the implements of horticulture.

We next visited the stately mansion, whose plan as well as that for all improvements made, were drawn by Washington.

"Convenience and desirability he sought in his home," and last but not least, location. The mansion is built of pine. It contains two stories and is ninety-six feet long and thirty feet wide, having a piazza that is supported by sixteen square columns which are twenty-five feet in height. The width of the piazza is fifteen feet, having a bal.u.s.trade of pleasing design around it; and in the center of the roof is a circular observatory from which a wonderful view of the Potomac may be had. The roof contains several dormer windows. There are six rooms on the ground floor and on entering the pa.s.sage way that leads from east to west through it you are at once impressed with its wainscoting and large worked cornices which present to the eye the appearance of great solidity. The parlor, library and breakfast room are on the south side of the hall; while to the north are the reception room, parlor, and drawing room. All of the rooms are what you would expect, "tasteful and charming, yet simple."

An exquisitely wrought chimney-piece from the finest Sienite marbles in Italy was presented to Washington for his Mount Vernon home by Mr. Vaughan, of London. Upon three tablets of the frieze are pleasing pastoral scenes, so fitting for this rural home.

We were much impressed by a picture of Washington seen here. How much more inspiring is a n.o.ble human countenance than the grandest natural scenery.

Any one seeing a crowd of men in which Washington is one of the number will at once ask, "Whose is the distinguished form towering above the throng, a figure of superb strength and perfect symmetry? He at once receives that hearty admiration which youth and age alike bestow on a man who so forcibly ill.u.s.trates and embellishes manhood. No one finds cause of regret for lavishing it, for that finely formed intellectual head held a clear, vigorous brain; those fine blue eyes look from the depths of a nature at once frank and n.o.ble; and in that broad chest beat a heart filled with the love of freedom, country and his fellow man."

The spirit of the boy pulsating with youth's warm blood who carved his name on the west side of the Natural Bridge, where it remained alone for nearly three-fourths of a century--that same indomitable spirit rose high above the treacherous rocks of fear, where it shone on the troubled sea of political injustice, a beacon light to the venturesome mariners, until they were landed safely upon the sh.o.r.e of Freedom.

Never did a family bear such an appropriate coat of arms: Exitus Acta Probat, "The end justifies the means." Here we have a man whose n.o.ble life of self-sacrifice and true devotion to his country accomplished the "greatest end by the most justifiable means." He had an Alpine grandeur of mind that towered far above the sordid lowlands of selfish ambitions to those sublime heights of whole-souled devotion to public duty and incorruptible integrity, where the great soul of the man shone forth like the lovely Pleiades on a winter night. In this "Cincinnatus of the West" resided a liberal mind, broad as his sunny acres that led far back from the river; his clearness of thought was like that of his native springs which gush in crystal clearness, leaving a path of verdure along their course; his loftiness of purpose towered sublimely above average life, like the glorious outlines of the Blue Ridge mountains.

"Skill, prudence, sagacity, energy, and wisdom marked all his acts." That wonderful trinity--candor, sincerity and simplicity-- were the striking features of his character and "an air of n.o.ble dignity never left his manly features, in either defeat or battle." On following his brilliant career as a commander one realizes as never before, that "intellect and not numbers rule the world; liberty-loving ideals and not force overmaster bigness; and that truth and right, when supported by strong and worthy purposes, always prevail in the end."

Among the many interesting relics to be seen at Mount Vernon are the Sword of Washington and Franklin's staff. While gazing at these mementoes of the past we recalled these significant words of the poet:

"The sword of the Hero, The staff of the Sage, Whose valor and wisdom Are stamped on the age.

Time hallowed mementoes Of those who have riven The sceptre from tyrants, The lightning from heaven.

This weapon, O, Freedom; Was drawn by thy son, And it never was sheathed Till the battle was won.

No stain of dishonor Upon it we see.

'Twas never surrendered-- Except to the free.

While Fame claims the hero And patriot sage Their names to emblazon On History's page, No holier relics Will Liberty h.o.a.rd Than Franklin's staff guarded By Washington's sword."

Another relic is the key of that grim prison, the Bastile, sent to Washington by Lafayette as a symbol of the overthrow of despotism and triumph of free government in France. That symbol is today one of America's most treasured mementos, carefully guarded in the Nation's shrine at Mount Vernon.

An exact reproduction of the old prison was made from a stone of its walls and presented to Washington. "We felt an awe in treading these lonely halls, a feeling that hallowed the spot as if there yet lingered a faint echo of the Master's footsteps through the silence, although he had departed forever."

Having viewed the places that to him were most dear, the places still redolent of the beauty and sacredness of home life, we wanted to stand beside his tomb. Past beautiful cedars and venerable maples we made our way to a quiet secluded spot where so many had gone before us, to leave the most perfect roses of Memory, filled with the incense of grateful and loving hearts.

We cannot tell with what feeling we added our sprays of blossoms, perennials springing from the garden of the heart, waxen white and fragrant as the narcissus.

We saw the wreath placed here by King Albert of Belgium as a loving tribute of respect of that brave little country.

An old colored man who conducted us to the tomb said that, as near as he could remember, about twelve years before he witnessed one of the largest crowds that he ever saw at Mount Vernon. The Ohio Corn Boys were afforded the wonderful opportunity of visiting this famous spot. What an ideal place to take them, for the farm has always been the best place on earth for the family. "It is the main source of our national wealth; the foundation of all civilized society." The welcome fact that a rural community could produce such men as Washington or Lincoln should be an added incentive for these Ohio lads to make the most of their golden opportunities.

Leaving the sacred spot to its quiet, mournful beauty, we again pa.s.sed through the garden over which floated the notes of the mocking-bird, like an oft-repeated farewell.

Travelers leaving Mount Vernon should pause a while in the old city of Alexandria, for there is much of historic interest here.

It is located on the right bank of the Potomac river, six miles below Washington, with which it is connected by a ferry and electric lines. Here the Potomac is a mile wide though it is one hundred miles from its mouth. It forms a harbor sufficiently deep for the largest ocean vessels. A fine view of the Capitol at Washington may be had, and from the Virginia end of the bridge spanning the Potomac a magnificent view of Lee's old home. Now Arlington cemetery opens to your gaze. This city was the headquarters of Braddock prior to his ill-fated expedition against the French in 1775. Here still stands Masonic Lodge, the building in which the governors of New York, Maryland, Pennsylvania, and Virginia met to form plans for the expedition.

But you forget the historical a.s.sociations of the place as you enter the little brick church where Washington was one of the first Vestrymen. Washington's and Lee's pews are pointed out to the visitor. Upon the wall back of the chancel may be seen the Law, the Creed and the Lord's Prayer. How often the eyes of the Father of his country must have rested upon that prayer. It was here, during the "times that tried men's souls" that thoughtfully and prayerfully he received courage and strength which led him to espouse the Cause of Liberty. A feeling of solemnity steals over you akin to that which you experience while treading the dim lighted aisle of some vast cathedral. On first beholding the Notre Dame in Cologne, you feel as if you were indeed lingering at the gates of the "Temple Beautiful."

And on entering, how majestic are the arches, how long the vista, how richly illuminated and emblazoned the windows, and how heavenly the music that thrills the "iris tinted silences."

It yet lacks the solemnity of these moments in which you linger in the old-fashioned church at Alexandria, where if you listen you may still catch those sky-born melodies, the chimes of a n.o.ble life. Leaving the place to its hallowed memories we started on our way to Baltimore.

>From beneath that humble roof went forth the intrepid and unselfish warrior--the magistrate who knew no glory but his country's good; to that he returned happiest when his work was done. There he lived in n.o.ble simplicity; there he died in glory and peace.

While it stands, the latest generations of the grateful children of America will make this pilgrimage to it as to a shrine, and when it shall fall, if fall it must, the memory and the name of Washington shall shed an eternal glory on the spot.

--EDWARD EVERETT.

CHAPTER IV

LANCASTER COUNTY AND GETTYSBURG

One of the most pleasant, recollections of travelers in Pennsylvania will be their trip through Lancaster county. For fifty years this county has led the United States in the value of cereal products. Lancaster, the county seat, has a population of fifty-eight thousand. It is one of the oldest towns in the state and was its capital in 1799. It was also the capital of the United States for one day, September 27, 1777.

We resolved to keep close watch as we drove across this wonderful agricultural county to see what we could learn of the methods employed in producing such bountiful crops. Surely, we thought, here will be a region lacking many of the beauties of rural communities. But what was our surprise when we found fine homes embowered in grand old trees. The dooryards contained many trees, shrubs and flowers--not cluttered up, but most admirably arranged, showing forethought and good taste. Then, the glowing ma.s.ses of the flower-bordered gardens were a quaint commingling of use and beauty. "Squares of onions, radishes, lettuce, rhubarb, strawberries--everything edible," reminded one of the lovely weedless vegetable plots of the Rhine country. Theirs seemed the homes which Gene Stratton Porter described in her incomparable manner in her "Music of the Wild." "Peter Tumble- down" has long ago moved from Lancaster county and only a few distant relatives yet remain.

We were delighted to find large barns in which the implements were sheltered. Nearly all contained coats of paint and the stables were whitewashed, giving an added appearance of cleanliness to the place as well as destroying lice and vermin.

Everything spoke of thrift. The manure was not thrown out in the barnyard but stored under sheds. The straw was kept in the barns. Noticing these things we began to learn that aside from good soil it was also good sense that made this the garden spot of the United States. Tobacco, so impoverishing to the soil, is still raised here on farms that have known cultivation two hundred years.

It is more refreshing than mountain scenery to behold such homes as you find here. The highways were not bordered by unsightly weeds but had been mown. These thrifty farmers were not afraid that they would spend their last days in the poorhouse if they chanced to leave a few shade trees standing; so, in many places along the highways, lovely maples and graceful elms make of them, instead of furnaces, a traveler's paradise. Thus we learned that those who combine use and beauty are not financial failures and live happier and longer than the people who "see no beauty and hear no songs and fail to perpetuate them for the future generations."

"For he who blesses most is blest; And G.o.d and man shall own his worth Who toils to leave as his bequest An added beauty to the earth."

The motorist will find an ideal road from Baltimore to Gettysburg. He will see a beautiful and fertile agricultural country whose well kept homes speak of refinement and prosperity among the people. It was over this wonderful highway that we sped while on our way to the famous town.

We entered Gettysburg at nightfall, pa.s.sing the house where General Meade had his headquarters. The sky was overcast in the early part of the evening and now the rain began to fall. It was too dark to make out the flag as it rose and fell over the little house. But as we peered through the uncertain light, a flash of lightning revealed the banner, which at once spoke an emblematic language too powerful for words. Darkness swallowed it up again; but we knew that for those stars gleaming on their field of blue, and for the purification of its white stripes that had been blackened by slavery, these charming ridges about us had been washed in the blood of thousands of our fair land.

We had to detour on account of the repair of sewers. Red lanterns warned the traveler of danger, but it seemed as if they spoke not of the dangers of the present but of those graver dangers that once had been. We spent the night at the Eagle Hotel. The rain continued to fall and by its soothing patter on the leaves and roof above us we were ushered into the land of dreams.

The next morning we met the father of Lieutenant Ira Ellsworth Lady who was one of the first of Pennsylvania's loyal sons from Adams county to offer the supreme sacrifice in the World War.

The Post of the American Legion at Arendtsville is named in his honor.

Alas! How poor, how futile are words to express the n.o.bleness of those young men, the fairest and purest our land could offer. In cases like this there is not much to be said. As we picked up the hat that dropped from trembling hands unnoticed to the floor, we thought what a sad Christmas the year 1918 brought to this home. Then we thought, too, how in the last moments of his earthly sojourn Lieut. Lady had wandered back to the lovely hills and the old homestead with its dear remembered faces in his native county.

Our first meeting was in the Evacuation Hospital at Glorenx; almost within the shadows of the frowning citadel of Verdun. How well we remember the first day of his arrival in Ward E! The litter bearers came and went on their ceaseless journeys, bringing new patients still under the influence of ether or transferring others who were sent by ambulance to base hospitals. It was during those terrible days of the Meuse- Argonne drive, while the air overhead hummed with those cruel messengers of fate--coming from no one knew where--that the litter bearers slowly and carefully lowered a patient to the newly-made cot we had just prepared. Looking at the diagnosis card that we found, we learned that the patient, Lieut. Ira Ellsworth Lady, had had an amputation of his limb above the knee, and that he also had been ga.s.sed.

The first question that he asked as we stood by his cot, when he again regained consciousness was: "How am I wounded?" When we told him the misfortune which had befallen him, a shudder ran through his frame as he repeated: "It is bad enough, but it might have been worse." A shade of sadness spread over those n.o.ble features but it was only for a moment, and he appeared utterly resigned to his cruel fate.

Always there was that smile of appreciation as we moved among the numerous cots of the suffering and dying. Whether in the morning upon inquiring how he had spent the night, or after the thick curtains were lowered at the windows, that no gleam of light might reveal our location to hostile planes, or when we paused at his bedside to wish him a painless night and restful slumber, we were always greeted by kind words of hope and cheer and a pleasant smile. How those cheery good-nights softened the roaring cannon, and screaming sh.e.l.ls into a mere echo, and that smiling countenance made radiant the grim halls of indescribable suffering and death!