CHAPTER XII

GEORGE WASHINGTON

IT is ancient history now-the Revolutionary War; and very indifferent is the average citizen to its heroes and its triumphs. One reason for this is that American historians, endeavoring to be dignified, leaned a little too far, and became dull.

One author tried to imitate Gibbon, another Macaulay, another Grote, another Green; and a sorry business they have made of it. Besides, the average book, written by the man of New England, has got too much New England in it. The reader feels, instinctively, that the American Revolution was not so exclusively a tempest in New England's tea-pot. Entirely too much has been made of trivial New England incidents and of third-rate New England individuals. Too many New England mole-hills have been magnified into historical mountains. Even Henry Cabot Lodge, though he made a manful attempt, could not cut himself loose from the swollen body of dead tradition.

As to Woodrow Wilson's book-well, we will change the subject.

The Radicals of Massachusetts were not altogether at ease in Zion when they realized how far

they had gone. Their Tea-Party was not universally approved. Samuel Adams enjoyed the situation; but such patriots as Franklin advised that the tea should be paid for. Then again, it was vehemently contended that at Lexington the patriots had fired first, and in violation of the orders of their own officers.

Her militia beaten at Bunker Hill, her chief city in British hands, her suffering people fed upon the bounty of sympathizing friends, Massachusetts occupied the perilous position. For her salvation it was necessary, absolutely and immediately neces sary, that the other colonies should rally to her support.

The two Adamses, John and Sam, realized perfectly the necessity for committing the South, not to the cause generally-for she was already committed to that-but to the trial of arms which Massachusetts had precipitated. By popular demonstrations, by speeches and resolutions, the Southern people were already committed, but nothing would clinch the combination between North and South like the appointment of the strongest man in the South to the chief command of the army.

Virginia was the strong colony of the South, and Washington was the strong man of Virginia; to shrewd Samuel Adams here was a plain case. The matchless Southern cavalier, who had come to

Congress in his uniform, must mount his war-horse and ride at the head of the American army!

The character of George Washington is by common consent regarded as one of the grandest known to history. In spite of Thomas Carlyle's threat to "take down George a peg or two," he remains where the eulogy of Light-Horse Harry Lee put him.

But the praise that is heaped upon him is sometimes too indiscriminate. There has been too much effort to remove him from the companionship of men, and to place him among the deities-as the ancients used to do.

That such a man as Parson Weems should begin this sort of thing, is no matter of surprise; but that such an author as John Fiske should fall into it, excites amazement.

The present writer, speaking for himself only, dares to confess that he loves Washington because he was just a man.

Show us the Washington who never makes a mistake, never commits a sin, never loses his temper, never does anything small or mean, never is at fault, is always right, always master of the situa tion, always sublimely above human weakness-a Washington who was supremely great from the cradle to the grave-and we frankly admit that we take no interest in him, simply because we have no faith in him.

But show us a Washington who was human, had his fits of passion, made his mistakes, committed sin, knew what the lusts of the flesh were, loved to dance all night, admired a fine figure of a woman, hated a poacher to the extent of beating the stealthy wretch and breaking his gun, cursed like a sailor when in a passion, knew how to pick out the best horse, or the best piece of land, had a slave whipped if he didn't do his task, had a private soldier flogged to the limit of the law if he broke the rules, forced the new husband of a dead plasterer's widow to refund an overcharge made by the deceased plasterer for work at Mount Vernon, compelled General Stone to take back a faulty coin paid for ferriage at the Washington ferry and to pay honest money-show us a Washington like that, and we begin to understand him. Show us a man who, in spite of such flaws and blemishes as these, develops the virtues of his nature until such blemishes shall become mere sun-spots, and we will join you in paying heartfelt adoration to the sun.

There had been no marvelous deeds connected with Washington's youth. He was not the brightest boy at school. Nothing he did caused the elders to distill wisdom into predictions. He was just a strong, manly, intelligent boy-quicker on the playground than in his books. His family was as good as the best; but not wealthy. His elder brothers, of the half blood, were intimately asso

ciated with some Englishmen whose connections were very high; but at one time the mother of George had thought of putting him on a British ship to become a common sailor.

He became a land surveyor; and in that capacity served Lord Fairfax, who had large tracts of wild land, the boundaries of which needed to be fixed and marked. Handsomely paid for this hard and dangerous work (for the Indians still roamed the woods), he saved his money and bought choice bits of virgin soil for himself. His explorations and surveys were not more perilous than those which Peter Jefferson had been making; and so far as we know, not better. He did his work faithfully, fearlessly, competently, and got well paid for it: that is all. If ever he had to eat his pack-mule while out in the wilderness, as Peter Jefferson is said to have been obliged to do, tradition has lost the indignant mule.

Prof. John Fiske falls into a flutter of wonder and admiration because Governor Dinwiddie of Virginia selected so young a man as Washington to carry a message into the Ohio woods. Really there was no cause for the professor's excitement. The most casual inquiry into the facts clears up the mystery. The Ohio Land Company was reaching out for half a million acres which lay in the fertile valleys of the West; the two elder brothers of Washington were directors