The Fable of George Washington and the Cherry Tree

From The Life of Washington, by Mason Locke Weems, 1809


cherry1a Never did the wise Ulysses take more pains with his beloved Telemachus, than did Mr. Washington with George, to inspire him with an early love of truth. “Truth, George”‘ (said he) “is the loveliest quality of youth. I would ride fifty miles, my son, to see the little boy whose heart is so honest, and his lips so pure, that we may depend on every word he says. O how lovely does such a child appear in the eyes of every body! His parents doat on him; his relations glory in him; they are constantly praising him to their children, whom they beg to imitate him. They are often sending for him, to visit them; and receive him, when he comes, with as much joy as if he were a little angel, come to set pretty examples to their children.”

“But, Oh! how different, George, is the case with the boy who is so given to lying, that nobody can believe a word he says! He is looked at with aversion wherever he goes, and parents dread to see him come among their children. Oh, George! my son! rather than see you come to this pass, dear as you are to my heart, gladly would I assist to nail you up in your little coffin, and follow you to your grave. Hard, indeed, would it be to me to give up my son, whose little feet are always so ready to run about with me, and whose fondly looking eyes and sweet prattle make so large a part of my happiness: but still I would give him up, rather than see him a common liar.

“Pa, (said George very seriously) do I ever tell lies?” cherry1b

“No, George, I thank God you do not, my son; and I rejoice in the hope you never will. At least, you shall never, from me, have cause to be guilty of so shameful a thing. Many parents, indeed, even compel their children to this vile practice, by barbarously beating them for every little fault; hence, on the next offence, the little terrified creature slips out a lie! just to escape the rod. But as to yourself, George, you know I have always told you, and now tell you again, that, whenever by accident you do any thing wrong, which must often be the case, as you are but a poor little boy yet, without experience or knowledge, never tell a falsehood to conceal it; but come bravely up, my son, like a little man, and tell me of it: and instead of beating you, George, I will but the more honour and love you for it, my dear.”

This, you’ll say, was sowing good seed!–Yes, it was: and the crop, thank God, was, as I believe it ever will be, where a man acts the true parent, that is, the Guardian Angel, by his child.

The following anecdote is a case in point. It is too valuable to be lost, and too true to be doubted; for it was communicated to me by the same excellent lady to whom I am indebted for the last.

“When George,” said she, “was about six years old, he was made the wealthy master of a hatchet! of which, like most little boys, he was immoderately fond, and was constantly going about chopping every thing that came in his way. One day, in the garden, where he often amused himself hacking his mother’s pea-sticks, he unluckily tried the edge of his hatchet on the body of a beautiful young English cherry-tree, which he barked so terribly, that I don’t believe the tree ever got the better of it. The next morning the old gentleman finding out what had befallen his tree, which, by the by, was a great favourite, came into the house, and with much warmth asked for the mischievous author, declaring at the same time, that he would not have taken five guineas for his tree. Nobody could tell him any thing about it. Presently George and his hatchet made their appearance. George, said his father, do you know who killed that beautiful little cherry-tree yonder in the garden? This was a tough question; and George staggered under it for a moment; but quickly recovered himself: and looking at his father, with the sweet face of youth brightened with the inexpressible charm of all-conquering truth, he bravely cried out, “I can’t tell a lie, Pa; you know I can’t tell a lie. I did cut it with my hatchet.”–Run to my arms, you dearest boy, cried his father in transports, run to my arms; glad am I, George, that you killed my tree; for you have paid me for it a thousand fold. Such an act of heroism in my son, is more worth than a thousand trees, though blossomed with silver, and their fruits of purest gold.


Weems, Mason Locke. The Life of Washington. A new edition with primary documents and introduction by Peter S. Onuf (Armonk, New York and London: M.E. Sharpe), 8-10.

Image: “A Few Truths,” trade card from the twentieth century, courtesy National Museum of American History, found in Margaret B. Klapthor & Howard Alexander Morrison, George Washington: A Figure Upon the Stage (Washington, D.C.: The Smithsonian Institution Press, 1982), 72.

3 thoughts on “The Fable of George Washington and the Cherry Tree

  1. I love this story. I do not think it accidental but providential that Abraham Lincoln read this story. He said, “…Away back in my childhood, the earliest days of my being able to read, I got hold of a small book,…’Weems’ Life of Washington”, I remember all the accounts there given of the battlefields and struggles for the liberties of the country…and you all know, for have all been boys, how these early impressions last longer than any others. I recollect thinking then, boy even though I WAS THAT THERE MUST HAVE BEEN SOMETHING MORE THAN COMMON THAT THOSE MEN STRUGGLED FOR.” The story and the book play an important role in the history of our nation and should be read. Notice. Read the whole book it ‘s priceless.
    Lincoln read it when he had just learned to read. Wow!

  2. As part of a reading material for my girlfriends college assignments. I didn’t even know that such rich and exquisite material existed. Great story

  3. The cherry tree story comes from a neighbor of the Washington family and is the only known source. As such the story has never been proven or refuted, yet there are those who are quick to refer to it as a “myth”.

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