THE name of George Washington is familiar to almost every household in our land, and his memory is revered by the millions who look upon him as the “Father of his country.” And justly may one be held in esteem, who stood forth, so well and so nobly, in defense of his country. “The memory of the just is blessed.”
When we recall the days of persecution in which God’s people had to flee to the dens and caves of the earth, and when to profess allegiance to Christ meant death, we may well thank God for the work that has procured to us a land of liberty in which we can worship Him with freedom of conscience. This is to us an inestimable blessing, if we can only use our privilege aright.
But while we praise God for His goodness, and think, with admiration of the man who was largely instrumental in bringing about this happy condition of things, we would not forget that “all the glory of man is as the flower of the grass.” Whatever distinction or glory man may attain to in this world, all must pass away. The grass withers, the flower fades—and how quickly! So it is with man; his life is but a vapor, which appears for a moment, then vanishes. The great ones of earth, alike with the lowly, must pass out of this scene. All their honor, all their power, cannot stay the icy hand of death when the appointed hour has come.
The poet Gray expresses this thought forcibly in verse;
“The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
“And all that beauty, all that wealth e’er gave,
“Await alike the inevitable hour;
“The paths of glory lead but to the grave.”
So when we think of the great and the noble who have passed, away we would bear in mind that “the grave levels all distinctions,” and we would seek to give them such a place only as would be pleasing to the Lord, honoring such as have been benefactors to their people, and especially so if they have given evidence of faith in God and loyalty to Him, as it seems apparent that Washington did.
And now, if my young reader will come with me, we will take a peep at Mount Vernon, the pretty villa, or country residence, which was the home of Washington during the greater part of his life time. An hour’s ride on the trolley, south from the city of Washington for sixteen miles, through pretty scenery and various points of interest, and we have reached the grounds. Passing through the large gateway, our attention is attracted at once to the white mansion which lies a little distance from us and which we approach by a winding road. We learn that this mansion is 90 ft. in length, from north to south, and 30 ft. in width from east to west. It is built out of blocks of wood, cut to resemble stone, and is painted white. It is two stories in height, but has a fine attic its entire length in which are numerous dormer windows, so that there is really a third story; and in this story are six well-lighted and nicely—furnished rooms. On the roof is a cupola.
As we pass on by a winding road, through a fine lawn, toward the house, we notice on the left, the flower garden and green house in which, we are told, are many rare and beautiful plants. The garden is quaint with boxwood hedges, which are said to have been set out more than a century and a half ago. A sago palm is the only green-house plant, that was there in Washington’s day; but some trees, set out and cared for by Washington, are still living; and at the foot of the garden is the famous Mary Washington rose, named by Washington for his mother.
To the right, and very neatly arranged, are some ten out-buildings, all painted white except the stable, which is built of brick, brought over from England 150 years ago. I suppose that was before bricks were made in this country. And those sent over from England must have been well-made for they look whole and strong yet.
One of the numerous out-buildings is the kitchen; it is connected with the main building by a curving colonnade, at the south end, and the office is connected by a similar colonnade at the north end of the house. A little back of the kitchen is the butler’s house; and south of this comes the spinning house, then the laundry, and the smoke-house, and the carpenter’s house, and the gardener’s house; then a little back again is the coach-house, and across the road from it, the stable. These buildings are common to a Virginia farm—and do not let us forget that while at Mt. Vernon we are in Virginia—but in this case they are so neatly built, and so well arranged that they quite add to the beauty and novelty of the place, rather than detract from it.
Passing around to the west front of the house—it fronts both east and west —the first thing that attracts us is the large piazza, which extends the whole length of the house, and is fifteen feet wide, and twenty-five feet high. It is supported in front by eight large, square pillars, and it is tiled with square stones, or flags, which were brought over from the Isle of Wight. On it are placed a number of curved high backed, old-fashioned looking chairs, which we quickly appropriate, wondering if now we are occupying a seat on which Washington himself once sat. But as we look forward at the magnificent view before us—the broad, beautiful Potomac passing quietly on to the sea, and the varied and lovely land-scape beyond—we involuntarily exclaim, “How charming!” —and forget all about the chair in which we are sitting. The shaded lawn in front, on which stands a pretty summer house, the winding road leading down to the deer park and river below, to the right the vault in which the body of Washington Was first laid, almost hidden from view over the hill-side—all attract our attention, and gladly would we linger that we might longer admire and enjoy the beautiful scene; for while man’s adornment is here, yet it is the handiwork of God that calls forth our admiration; it is nature’s setting that gives the charm. But time is passing, and we must not delay too long.
We enter the north of three doors that open on the porch, and find ourselves in the Banquet Hall. It is a large, pleasant room with frescoed ceiling, and ornamented doors and windows which make one wonder at the workmanship of a century and a quarter ago. We turn to the marble mantelpiece, which was presented to Washington by an English man by the name of Samuel Vaughan, and trace some, of the varied and beautiful patterns of its exquisite carving which, we are told, was done in Italy; next we notice the old French clock, and the vases which speak of days gone by, still standing on the old mantel. Then we turn around and notice in the center of the room, the banquet table, with a very large plateau of silver on it, which was used on state occasions; and we think of La Fayette and other great ones who once gathered around the festal board in this very room; we think, too, of the laughter and mirth and jest that are usual on such occasions, and the thought comes very solemnly to us, that all who gathered there have passed on to the eternal accounts where all the idle words will have to be answered for to God. How very careful we all should be not to allow idle words to escape our lips!
On the walls are large and fine old paintings, and in the cases with glass doors, are stored many relics, among which, we see the carved ivory fan which Martha Washington carried, handsome flowers that her fair hands shaped, dishes out of which General and Lady Washington ate, and many other things that we cannot take time to mention.
Now we will say good bye, and another time, if the Lord will, we will take a peep at some of the other rooms of the Mount Vernon Mansion.
ML 06/12/1904