Washington's Birthday Part 4

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 G.o.d 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 n.o.ble, 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 h.e.l.l 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, ill.u.s.trated 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 pa.s.sions 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 pa.s.s 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 a.n.a.logy of form or substance, its decision is embarra.s.sed.

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 surpa.s.sing 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 a.s.surance 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 ill.u.s.tration 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 ill.u.s.trate 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 a.n.a.lysis 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 a.n.a.lytical 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 ill.u.s.tration. If we would cla.s.sify and measure him, it must be with nations, and not with individuals.

This extraordinary nature of Washington's capacities--this impossibility of a.n.a.lyzing 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 circ.u.mstances; 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 a.s.surance 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 fort.i.tude, 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 pa.s.sion, 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?

If we compare him with the great men who were his contemporaries throughout the nation; in an age of extraordinary personages, Washington was unquestionably the first man of the time in ability. Review the correspondence of General Washington--that sublime monument of intelligence and integrity--scrutinize the public history and the public men of that era, and you will find that in all the wisdom that was accomplished or was attempted, Washington was before every man in his suggestions of the plan, and beyond every one in the extent to which he contributed to its adoption. In the field, all the able generals acknowledged his superiority, and looked up to him with loyalty, reliance, and reverence; the others, who doubted his ability, or conspired against his sovereignty, ill.u.s.trated, in their own conduct, their incapacity to be either his judges or his rivals. In the state, Adams, Jay, Rutledge, Pinckney, Morris--these are great names; but there is not one whose wisdom does not vail to his. His superiority was felt by all these persons, and was felt by Washington himself, as a simple matter of fact, as little a subject of question, or a cause of vanity, as the eminence of his personal stature. His appointment as commander-in-chief was the result of no design on his part; and of no efforts on the part of his friends; it seemed to take place spontaneously. He moved into the position, because there was a vacuum which no other could supply: in it, he was not sustained by government, by a party, or by connections; he sustained himself; and then he sustained everything else. He sustained Congress against the army, and the army against the injustice of Congress. The brightest mind among his contemporaries was Hamilton's; a character which cannot be contemplated without frequent admiration, and constant affection. His talents took the form of genius, which Washington's did not. But active, various, and brilliant, as the faculties of Hamilton were, whether viewed in the precocity of youth, or in the all-accomplished elegance of maturer life--lightning-quick as his intelligence was to see through every subject that came before it, and vigorous as it was in constructing the argumentation by which other minds were to be led, as upon a shapely bridge, over the obscure depths across which his had flashed in a moment--fertile and sound in schemes, ready in action, splendid in display, as he was--nothing is more obvious and certain than that when Mr. Hamilton approached Washington, he came into the presence of one who surpa.s.sed him in the extent, in the comprehension, the elevation, the sagacity, the force, and the ponderousness of his mind, as much as he did in the majesty of his aspect and the grandeur of his step. The genius of Hamilton was a flower, which gratifies, surprises, and enchants; the intelligence of Washington was a stately tree, which in the rarity and true dignity of its beauty is as superior as it is in its dimensions.

VALLEY FORGE

BY HENRY ARMITT BROWN

_From Centennial Address delivered at Valley Forge, June 19, 1878_

The century that has gone by has changed the face of Nature, and wrought a revolution in the habits of mankind. We to-day behold the dawn of an extraordinary age. Man has advanced with such astounding speed, that, breathless, we have reached a moment when it seems as if distance had been annihilated, time made as nought, the invisible seen, the intangible felt, and the impossible accomplished. Already we knock at the door of a new century, which promises to be infinitely brighter and more enlightened and happier than this.

We know that we are more fortunate than our fathers. We believe that our children shall be happier than we. We know that this century is more enlightened than the past. We believe that the time to come will be better and more glorious than this. We think, we believe, we hope, but we do not know. Across that threshold we may not pa.s.s; behind that veil we may not penetrate. It may be vouchsafed us to behold it, wonderingly, from afar, but never to enter in. It matters not. The age in which we live is but a link in the endless and eternal chain. Our lives are like sands upon the sh.o.r.e; our voices, like the breath of this summer breeze that stirs the leaf for a moment, and is forgotten. The last survivor of this mighty mult.i.tude shall stay but a little while. The endless generations are advancing to take our places as we fall. For them, as for us, shall the years march by in the sublime procession of the ages.

And here, in this place of sacrifice, in this vale of humiliation, in this valley of the shadow of death, out of which the life of America rose regenerate and free, let us believe, with an abiding faith, that to them union will seem as dear, and liberty as sweet, and progress as glorious, as they were to our fathers and are to you and me, and that the inst.i.tutions which have made us happy, preserved by the virtue of our children, shall bless the remotest generation of the time to come.

And unto Him who holds in the hollow of His hand the fate of nations, and yet marks the sparrow's fall, let us lift up our hearts this day, and unto His eternal care commend ourselves, our children, and our country.

WASHINGTON AT VALLEY FORGE

BY CANON R.G. SUTHERLAND

With his lean, ragged levies, undismayed, He crouched among the vigilant hills; a show To the disdainful, heaven-blinded foe.

Unlauded, unsupported, disobeyed, Thwarted, maligned, conspired against, betrayed-- Yet nothing could unheart him. Wouldst thou know His secret? There, in that thicket on the snow, Washington knelt before his G.o.d, and prayed.

Close in their lair for perilous months and days He held in leash his wolves, grim, shelterless, Gaunt, hunger-bitten, stanch to the uttermost; Then, when the hour was come for hardiness Rallied, and rushed them on the reeling host; And Monmouth planted Yorktown's happy bays!

A FRENCHMAN'S ESTIMATE OF WASHINGTON IN 1781

BY CLAUDE C. ROBIN

From _Magazine of American History_.

_The following extract from a letter written by Abbe Robin, chaplain in the French army in America, and bearing date "Camp of Phillipsburg, August 4, 1781," a few weeks after his arrival in this country, is very suggestive. This letter was the first of a series of thirteen letters from the Abbe while in America, which were published in Paris in 1782.

He writes_:

I have seen General Washington, that most singular man--the soul and support of one of the greatest revolutions that has ever happened, or can happen. I fixed my eyes upon him with that keen attention which the sight of a great man always inspires. We naturally entertain a secret hope of discovering in the features of such ill.u.s.trious persons some traces of that genius which distinguishes them from, and elevates them above, their fellow mortals.

Perhaps the exterior of no man was better calculated to gratify these expectations than that of General Washington. He is of a tall and n.o.ble stature, well proportioned, a fine, cheerful, open countenance, a simple and modest carriage; and his whole mien has something in it that interests the French, the Americans, and even enemies themselves, in his favor. Placed in a military view, at the head of a nation where each individual has a share in the supreme legislative authority, and where coercive laws are yet in a degree dest.i.tute of vigor, where the climate and manners can add but little to their energy, where the spirit of party, private interest, slowness and national indolence, slacken, suspend, and overthrow the best concerted measures; although so situated he has found out a method of keeping his troops in the most absolute subordination; making them rivals in praising him; fearing him when he is silent, and retaining their full confidence in him after defeats and disgrace. His reputation has, at length, arisen to a most brilliant height; and he may now grasp at the most unbounded power, without provoking envy or exciting suspicion. He has ever shown himself superior to fortune, and in the most trying adversity has discovered resources until then unknown: and, as if his abilities only increased and dilated at the prospect of difficulty, he is never better supplied than when he seems dest.i.tute of everything, nor have his arms ever been so fatal to his enemies, as at the very instant when they thought they had crushed him forever. It is his to excite a spirit of heroism and enthusiasm in a people who are by nature very little susceptible of it; to gain over the respect and homage of those whose interest it is to refuse it, and to execute his plans and projects by means unknown even to those who are his instruments; he is intrepid in dangers, yet never seeks them but when the good of his country demands it, preferring rather to temporize and act upon the defensive, because he knows such a mode of conduct best suits the genius and circ.u.mstances of the nation, and all that he and they have to expect, depends upon time, fort.i.tude, and patience; he is frugal and sober in regard to himself, but profuse in the public cause; like Peter the Great, he has by defeats conducted his army to victory; and like Fabius, but with fewer resources and more difficulty, he has conquered without fighting, and saved his country.