PART III. CHAPTER XIX. FROM Mount Vernon, Washington wrote to General Knox that he felt "like a traveller who had reached his destination, after treading many a painful step with a heavy burden on his shoulders, and from his house-top looked back over the windings of the road by which he had come." Truly, the road had been a perilous and a weary one. From the time when he had accepted the command of the American army, "without haste, without rest," he had travelled it. Far away in the distance lay the siege of Boston, with its tale of hidden anxiety, and final triumph; then the fatal battle of Long Island, and the midnight escape; the hazardous retreat through the Jerseys; the brilliant Christmas enterprise on Trenton; the night-march on Princetown; the desolate camp at Valley Forge, with its privation and sorrow, its darkness. of mistrust and contempt; the hard winter at Morristown ; the gleam of light which came from the first news of the alliance with France, followed by the bitterness of Arnold's treachery, the sternness of André's death; and, finally, the triumph at York Town, which had led to honourable peace. This was the path by which he had travelled, bravely treading down every obstacle; having for his goal, the freedom of his country; for his daily occupation, the welfare of his brother-men. Had his life ended here, it would have been a glorious "I will not repine," he said; "I have had my day." But the day was not ended because its morning heat and toil one. were over; the mellowed sunshine of its evening was also to be used in the cause of his country. The life at Mount Vernon was quiet and cheerful, as Washington's letters seem to show. Writing to La Fayette, in February, he said, "At length, my dear marquis, I am become a private citizen on the banks of the Potomac, and under the shadow of my own vine and fig-tree. Free from the bustle of a camp, and the busy scenes of public life, I am solacing myself with those tranquil enjoyments of which the soldier who is ever in pursuit of fame; the statesman whose watchful days and sleepless nights are spent in devising schemes to promote the welfare of his own, perhaps the ruin of other countries, as if this globe were insufficient for us all; and the courtier who is always watching the countenance of his prince, in hopes of catching a gracious smile, can have very little conception. Envious of none, I am determined to be pleased with all; and this, my dear friend, being the order of my march, I will move gently down the stream of life until I sleep with my fathers." In speaking of the army, further on in the same letter, he says, "I must do Congress the justice to declare that, as a body, I believe there is every disposition in them, not only to acknowledge the merits, but to reward the services of the army. There is a contractedness, I am sorry to add, in some of the States, from whence all our difficulties on this head proceed; but it is to be hoped that the good sense and perseverance of the rest will ultimately prevail, as the spirit of meanness is beginning to subside.” He ends with a most cordial invitation to La Fayette to come and visit him at Mount Vernon. In the autumn of the same year, La Fayette accepted this invitation; and shortly after, Washington wrote to the Marchioness de Ia LETTER TO BUSHROD WASHINGTON. 213 Fayette, "I have obtained a promise, which the marquis has ratified to Mrs. Washington, that he will use his influence to bring you with him to this country whenever he shall visit it again. When the weight of so powerful an advocate is on our side, will you, my dear marchioness, deny us the pleasure of your accompanying him to the shores of Columbia? In offering our mite, we can only assure you that endeavours shall not be wanting on our part to make this new world as agreeable to you as rural scenes and peaceful retirement are competent to." A letter which was written about this time to one of his nephews is worth quoting, from the fact of its being so "DEAR BUSH ROD,-You will be surprised, perhaps, at receiving a letter from me; but if the end is answered for which it is written, I shall not think my time misspent. Your father, who seems to entertain a very favourable opinion of your prudence, and I hope you merit it, in one or two of his letters to me, speaks of the difficulty he is under to make you remittances. Whether this arises from the scantiness of his funds, or the extensiveness of your demands, is matter of conjecture with me. I hope it is not the latter, because common prudence and every other consideration which ought to have weight in a reflecting mind are opposed to your requiring more than his convenience and a regard to his other children will enable him to pay; and because he holds up no idea in the letter which would support me in the conclusion." After warning him of the inexperience of youth, and "the vices and dangers of large cities," he advises him to work hard at his profession of law, and to avoid dissipation. "The company in which you will improve most will be least expensive to you. It is easy to make acquaintances, but very difficult to shake them off. Be courteous to all, but intimate with few; and let those few be well tried before you give them your confidence. True friendship is a plant of slow growth, and must undergo and withstand the shocks of adversity before it is worthy of the appellation. "Let your heart feel for the afflictions and distresses of every one, and let your hand give in proportion to your purse; remembering always the estimation of the widow's mite,' but that it is not every one who asketh that deserveth charity. All, however, are worthy of the inquiry, or the deserving may suffer. "Do not conceive that fine clothes make fine men, any more than fine feathers make fine birds. A plain genteel dress is more admired, and obtains more credit than lace and embroidery, in the eyes of the judicious and sensible. "The last thing I shall mention is the first in importance, and that is, to avoid gaming. . It is the child of avarice, the brother of iniquity, and the father of mischief. It has been the ruin of many worthy families, the loss of many a man's honour, and the cause of suicide. To all those who enter the lists it is equally fascinating. The successful gamester pushes his good fortune till it is overtaken by a reverse. The losing gamester, in hopes of retrieving past misfortunes, goes on from bad to worse, till, grown desperate, he pushes at everything, and loses his all. "Perhaps you will say, 'My conduct has anticipated the advice, and not one of the cases applies to me.' I shall be heartily glad of it. It will add not a little to my happiness to find those to whom I am so nearly connected pursuing the right walk of life.. "I am, dear Bushrod, your affectionate uncle, "GEORGE WASHINGTON." We are reminded in some of the aphorisms contained in this sensible letter of the rules drawn up in his own early life, and of the ponderous lessons of Sir Matthew Hale's Commentaries-the old-fashioned book which Washington always kept by him, for his mother's sake. This Bushrod Washington, in whose welfare he took such a grave and kindly interest, was the son of his brother Augustine, and the heir to whom he left Mount Vernon. It is pleasant to think of the Chief's life in the home he loved so much-receiving his friends, enlarging his house for PLANTING AT MOUNT VERNON. 215 them, planting and improving his estate. He wrote to New York for balsams, to Europe for vines; he made entries in his diary of the buds on the thorn-trees showing early in January, of his planting ivy in February, of planting hemlock trees in March, of sowing holly-berries in April. He rode about the banks of the Potomac in quest of young elms, ash trees, white-thorn, willows, and lilacs. "He sows acorns and buck-eye nuts, brought by himself from the Monongahela; he opens vistas through the pine-groves, commanding distant views through the woodlands; he twines round his columns scarlet honeysuckles, which his gardener tells him will blow all the summer. His careworn spirit freshens up in these employments. With him Mount Vernon is a kind of idyl." It was as hospitable a house as ever; even more so, perhaps, as the claims on its hospitality increased with Washington's numerous acquaintance, both American and foreign, and many of the guests were strangers, who obtained letters of introduction, that their curiosity might be satisfied with a sight of the great man who had done so much for America. Presents, too, came to him from curiously various places. The King of Spain sent him some rare asses from the royal stable; La Fayette sent him a pack of deer-hounds, the marchioness worked him a masonic apron; Louis XVI. and Frederick the Great sent their portraits; Congress caused statues to be put up in his honour; artists flocked to Mount Vernon, imploring leave to take his likeness. Had he been a man to whom popularity was dear, he might have spent his life in being fêted and courted; but, as he said himself, he "did not entertain a wish beyond living and dying an honest man on his own farm." His wife and the two little grandchildren, Nelly and Washington |