[Illustration: Frontispiece]

American Statesmen

STANDARD LIBRARY EDITION

[Illustration: _The Home of the Washington Family_]

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GEORGE WASHINGTON

 BY

HENRY CABOT LODGE

 IN TWO VOLUMES VOL. I. 

 1889

PREFACE

This edition has been carefully revised, and although very little hasbeen added of late years to our knowledge of the facts of Washington'slife, I have tried to examine all that has appeared. The researches ofMr. Waters, which were published just after these volumes in the firstedition had passed through the press, enable me to give the Washingtonpedigree with certainty, and have turned conjecture into fact. Therecent publication in full of Lear's memoranda, although they tellnothing new about Washington's last moments, help toward a completionof all the details of the scene. 

H. C. LODGE. 

WASHINGTON, February 7, 1898. 

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CONTENTS

CHAPTER. 

 INTRODUCTION I. THE OLD DOMINION II. THE WASHINGTONS III. ON THE FRONTIER IV. LOVE AND MARRIAGE V. TAKING COMMAND VI. SAVING THE REVOLUTION VII. "MALICE DOMESTIC, AND FOREIGN LEVY" VIII. THE ALLIES IX. ARNOLD'S TREASON, AND THE WAR IN THE SOUTH X. YORKTOWN XI. PEACE

 INDEX

ILLUSTRATIONS

GEORGE WASHINGTON

From the painting by Gilbert Stuart in the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. This painting is owned by the Boston Athenæum and is known asthe Athenæum portrait. 

Autograph is from Washington's signature to a bill of exchange, from"Talks about Autographs" by George Birkbeck Hill. 

The vignette of the residence of the Washington family is from "Homesof American Statesman, " published by Alfred W. Putnam, New York. 

LAWRENCE WASHINGTON

From an original painting in the possession of Lawrence Washington, Esq. , Alexandria, Va. , a great-great-great-nephew. 

Autograph from MS. In New York Public Library, Lenox Building. 

MISS MARY CARY

From an original painting owned by Dr. James D. Moncure of Virginia, one of her descendants. 

No autograph can be found. 

MISS MARY PHILIPSE

From Irving's "Washington, " published by G. P. Putnam's Sons. 

Autograph from Appleton's "Cyclopædia of American Biography. "

WASHINGTON CROSSING THE DELAWARE

From the original painting by Emanuel Leutze in the New YorkMetropolitan Museum. The United States flag shown in the picture is ananachronism. The stars and stripes were first adopted by Congress inJune, 1777; and any flag carried by Washington's army in December, 1776, would have consisted of the stripes with the crosses of St. George and St. Andrew in the blue field where the stars now appear. 

INTRODUCTION

February 9 in the year 1800 was a gala day in Paris. Napoleon haddecreed a triumphal procession, and on that day a splendid militaryceremony was performed in the Champ de Mars, and the trophies of theEgyptian expedition were exultingly displayed. There were, however, two features in all this pomp and show which seemed strangely outof keeping with the glittering pageant and the sounds of victoriousrejoicing. The standards and flags of the army were hung with crape, and after the grand parade the dignitaries of the land proceededsolemnly to the Temple of Mars, and heard the eloquent M. De Fontanesdeliver an "Eloge Funèbre. "[1]

[Footnote 1: A report recently discovered shows that more even wasintended than was actually done. 

The following is a translation of the paper, the original of whichis Nos. 172 and 173 of volume 51 of the manuscript series known as_Etats-Unis_, 1799, 1800 (years 7 and 8 of the French republic):--

 "_Report of Talleyrand, Minister of Foreign Affairs, on the occasion of the death of George Washington_. 

 "A nation which some day will he a great nation, and which today is the wisest and happiest on the face of the earth, weeps at the bier of a man whose courage and genius contributed the most to free it from bondage, and elevate it to the rank of an independent and sovereign power. The regrets caused by the death of this great man, the memories aroused by these regrets, and a proper veneration for all that is held dear and sacred by mankind, impel us to give expression to our sentiments by taking part in an event which deprives the world of one of its brightest ornaments, and removes to the realm of history one of the noblest lives that ever honored the human race. 

 "The name of Washington is inseparably linked with a memorable epoch. He adorned this epoch by his talents and the nobility of his character, and with virtues that even envy dared not assail. History offers few examples of such renown. Great from the outset of his career, patriotic before his country had become a nation, brilliant and universal despite the passions and political resentments that would gladly have checked his career, his fame is to-day imperishable, --fortune having consecrated his claim to greatness, while the prosperity of a people destined for grand achievements is the best evidence of a fame ever to increase. 

 "His own country now honors his memory with funeral ceremonies, having lost a citizen whose public actions and unassuming grandeur in private life were a living example of courage, wisdom, and unselfishness; and France, which from the dawn of the American Revolution hailed with hope a nation, hitherto unknown, that was discarding the vices of Europe, which foresaw all the glory that this nation would bestow on humanity, and the enlightenment of governments that would ensue from the novel character of the social institutions and the new type of heroism of which Washington and America were models for the world at large, --France, I repeat, should depart from established usages and do honor to one whose fame is beyond comparison with that of others. 

 "The man who, amid the decadence of modern ages, first dared believe that he could inspire degenerate nations with courage to rise to the level of republican virtues, lived for all nations and for all centuries; and this nation, which first saw in the life and success of that illustrious man a foreboding of its destiny, and therein recognized a future to be realized and duties to be performed, has every right to class him as a fellow-citizen. I therefore submit to the First Consul the following decree:-- "Bonaparte, First Consul of the republic, decrees as follows:-- "Article 1. A statue is to be erected to General Washington. "Article 2. This statue is to be placed in one of the squares of Paris, to be chosen by the minister of the interior, and it shall be his duty to execute the present decree. "]

About the same time, if tradition may be trusted, the flags upon theconquering Channel fleet of England were lowered to half-mast in tokenof grief for the same event which had caused the armies of France towear the customary badges of mourning. 

If some "traveler from an antique land" had observed thesemanifestations, he would have wondered much whose memory it was thathad called them forth from these two great nations, then strugglingfiercely with each other for supremacy on land and sea. His wonderwould not have abated had he been told that the man for whom theymourned had wrested an empire from one, and at the time of his deathwas arming his countrymen against the other. 

These signal honors were paid by England and France to a simpleVirginian gentleman who had never left his own country, and who whenhe died held no other office than the titular command of a provisionalarmy. Yet although these marks of respect from foreign nations werenotable and striking, they were slight and formal in comparison withthe silence and grief which fell upon the people of the United Stateswhen they heard that Washington was dead. He had died in the fullnessof time, quietly, quickly, and in his own house, and yet his deathcalled out a display of grief which has rarely been equaled inhistory. The trappings and suits of woe were there of course, but whatmade this mourning memorable was that the land seemed hushed withsadness, and that the sorrow dwelt among the people and was neitherforced nor fleeting. Men carried it home with them to their firesidesand to their churches, to their offices and their workshops. Everypreacher took the life which had closed as the noblest of texts, andevery orator made it the theme of his loftiest eloquence. For morethan a year the newspapers teemed with eulogy and elegy, and bothprose and poetry were severely taxed to pay tribute to the memory ofthe great one who had gone. The prose was often stilted and the versewas generally bad, but yet through it all, from the polished sentencesof the funeral oration to the humble effusions of the obscurest poet'scorner, there ran a strong and genuine feeling, which the highest artcould not refine nor the clumsiest expression degrade. 

From that time to this, the stream of praise has flowed on, everdeepening and strengthening, both at home and abroad. Washington alonein history seems to have risen so high in the estimation of men thatcriticism has shrunk away abashed, and has only been heard whisperingin corners or growling hoarsely in the now famous house in Cheyne Row. 

There is a world of meaning in all this, could we but rightlyinterpret it. It cannot be brushed aside as mere popular superstition, formed of fancies and prejudices, to which intelligent oppositionwould be useless. Nothing is in fact more false than the way in whichpopular opinions are often belittled and made light of. The opinionof the world, however reached, becomes in the course of years orcenturies the nearest approach we can make to final judgment onhuman things. Don Quixote may be dumb to one man, and the sonnets ofShakespeare may leave another cold and weary. But the fault is inthe reader. There is no doubt of the greatness of Cervantes orShakespeare, for they have stood the test of time, and the voices ofgenerations of men, from which there is no appeal, have declared themto be great. The lyrics that all the world loves and repeats, thepoetry which is often called hackneyed, is on the whole the bestpoetry. The pictures and statues that have drawn crowds of admiringgazers for centuries are the best. The things that are "caviare to thegeneral" often undoubtedly have much merit, but they lack quite asoften the warm, generous, and immortal vitality which appeals alike torich and poor, to the ignorant and to the learned. 

So it is with men. When years after his death the world agrees to calla man great, the verdict must be accepted. The historian may whiten orblacken, the critic may weigh and dissect, the form of the judgmentmay be altered, but the central fact remains, and with the man, whomthe world in its vague way has pronounced great, history must reckonone way or the other, whether for good or ill. 

When we come to such a man as Washington, the case is still stronger. Men seem to have agreed that here was greatness which no one couldquestion, and character which no one could fail to respect. Aroundother leaders of men, even around the greatest of them, sharpcontroversies have arisen, and they have their partisans dead as theyhad them living. Washington had enemies who assailed him, and friendswhom he loved, but in death as in life he seems to stand alone, aboveconflict and superior to malice. In his own country there is nodispute as to his greatness or his worth. Englishmen, the mostunsparing censors of everything American, have paid homage toWashington, from the days of Fox and Byron to those of Tennyson andGladstone. In France his name has always been revered, and in distantlands those who have scarcely heard of the existence of the UnitedStates know the country of Washington. To the mighty cairn which thenation and the states have raised to his memory, stones have comefrom Greece, sending a fragment of the Parthenon; from Brazil andSwitzerland, Turkey and Japan, Siam and India beyond the Ganges. Onthat sent by China we read: "In devising plans, Washington was moredecided than Ching Shing or Woo Kwang; in winning a country he wasbraver than Tsau Tsau or Ling Pi. Wielding his four-footed falchion, he extended the frontiers and refused to accept the Royal Dignity. Thesentiments of the Three Dynasties have reappeared in him. Can any manof ancient or modern times fail to pronounce Washington peerless?"These comparisons so strange to our ears tell of a fame which hasreached farther than we can readily conceive. 

Washington stands as a type, and has stamped himself deep upon theimagination of mankind. Whether the image be true or false is of noconsequence: the fact endures. He rises up from the dust of history asa Greek statue comes pure and serene from the earth in which it haslain for centuries. We know his deeds; but what was it in the manwhich has given him such a place in the affection, the respect, andthe imagination of his fellow men throughout the world?

Perhaps this question has been fully answered already. Possibly everyone who has thought upon the subject has solved the problem, so thateven to state it is superfluous. Yet a brilliant writer, the latesthistorian of the American people, has said: "General Washington isknown to us, and President Washington. But George Washington is anunknown man. " These are pregnant words, and that they should be trueseems to make any attempt to fill the great gap an act of sheer andhopeless audacity. Yet there can be certainly no reason for addinganother to the almost countless lives of Washington unless it be donewith the object in view which Mr. McMaster indicates. Any such attemptmay fail in execution, but if the purpose be right it has at least anexcuse for its existence. 

To try to add to the existing knowledge of the facts in Washington'scareer would have but little result beyond the multiplication ofprinted pages. The antiquarian, the historian, and the critic haveexhausted every source, and the most minute details have been andstill are the subject of endless writing and constant discussion. Every house he ever lived in has been drawn and painted; everyportrait, and statue, and medal has been catalogued and engraved. Hisprivate affairs, his servants, his horses, his arms, even his clothes, have all passed beneath the merciless microscope of history. Hisbiography has been written and rewritten. His letters have been drawnout from every lurking place, and have been given to the world inmasses and in detachments. His battles have been fought over andover again, and his state papers have undergone an almost verbalexamination. Yet, despite his vast fame and all the labors of theantiquarian and biographer, Washington is still not understood, --as aman he is unfamiliar to the posterity that reverences his memory. Hehas been misrepresented more or less covertly by hostile critics andby candid friends, and has been disguised and hidden away by themistaken eulogy and erroneous theories of devout admirers. All thatany one now can do, therefore, is to endeavor from this mass ofmaterial to depict the very man himself in the various conjunctures ofhis life, and strive to see what he really was and what he meant then, and what he is and what he means to us and to the world to-day. 

In the progress of time Washington has become in the popularimagination largely mythical; for mythical ideas grow up in thisnineteenth century, notwithstanding its boasted intelligence, much asthey did in the infancy of the race. The old sentiment of humanity, more ancient and more lasting than any records or monuments, which ledmen in the dawn of history to worship their ancestors and the foundersof states, still endures. As the centuries have gone by, thissentiment has lost its religious flavor, and has become more andmore restricted in its application, but it has never been whollyextinguished. Let some man arise great above the ordinary bounds ofgreatness, and the feeling which caused our progenitors to bow downat the shrines of their forefathers and chiefs leads us to investour modern hero with a mythical character, and picture him in ourimagination as a being to whom, a few thousand years ago, altars wouldhave been builded and libations poured out. 

Thus we have to-day in our minds a Washington grand, solemn, andimpressive. In this guise he appears as a man of lofty intellect, vastmoral force, supremely successful and fortunate, and wholly apartfrom and above all his fellow-men. This lonely figure rises up to ourimagination with all the imperial splendor of the Livian Augustus, andwith about as much warmth and life as that unrivaled statue. In thisvague but quite serious idea there is a great deal of truth, butnot the whole truth. It is the myth of genuine love and venerationspringing from the inborn gratitude of man to the founders and chiefsof his race, but it is not by any means the only one of its family. There is another, equally diffused, of wholly different parentage. In its inception this second myth is due to the itinerant parson, bookmaker, and bookseller, Mason Weems. He wrote a brief biography ofWashington, of trifling historical value, yet with sufficient literaryskill to make it widely popular. It neither appealed to nor was readby the cultivated and instructed few, but it reached the homes of themasses of the people. It found its way to the bench of the mechanic, to the house of the farmer, to the log cabins of the frontiersman andpioneer. It was carried across the continent on the first waves ofadvancing settlement. Its anecdotes and its simplicity of thoughtcommended it to children both at home and at school, and, passingthrough edition after edition, its statements were widely spread, andit colored insensibly the ideas of hundreds of persons who never hadheard even the name of the author. To Weems we owe the anecdote of thecherry-tree, and other tales of a similar nature. He wrote with Dr. Beattie's life of his son before him as a model, and the result isthat Washington comes out in his pages a faultless prig. Whether Weemsintended it or not, that is the result which he produced, and that isthe Washington who was developed from the wide sale of his book. Whenthis idea took definite and permanent shape it caused a reaction. There was a revolt against it, for the hero thus engendered hadqualities which the national sense of humor could not endure insilence. The consequence is, that the Washington of Weems has affordedan endless theme for joke and burlesque. Every professional Americanhumorist almost has tried his hand at it; and with each recurring 22dof February the hard-worked jesters of the daily newspapers take itup and make a little fun out of it, sufficient for the day that ispassing over them. The opportunity is tempting, because of the easewith which fun can be made when that fundamental source of humor, aviolent contrast, can be employed. But there is no irreverence in itall, for the jest is not aimed at the real Washington, but at theWashington portrayed in the Weems biography. The worthy "rector ofMount Vernon, " as he called himself, meant no harm, and there is agood deal of truth, no doubt, in his book. But the blameless andpriggish boy, and the equally faultless and uninteresting man, whom heoriginated, have become in the process of development a myth. So inits further development is the Washington of the humorist a myth. Both alike are utterly and crudely false. They resemble their greatoriginal as much as Greenough's classically nude statue, exposed tothe incongruities of the North American climate, resembles in dressand appearance the general of our armies and the first President ofthe United States. 

Such are the myth-makers. They are widely different from the criticswho have assailed Washington in a sidelong way, and who can be betterdealt with in a later chapter. These last bring charges which can bemet; the myth-maker presents a vague conception, extremely difficultto handle because it is so elusive. 

One of our well-known historical scholars and most learnedantiquarians, not long ago, in an essay vindicating the "traditionalWashington, " treated with scorn the idea of a "new Washington" beingdiscovered. In one sense this is quite right, in another totallywrong. There can be no new Washington discovered, because there neverwas but one. But the real man has been so overlaid with myths andtraditions, and so distorted by misleading criticisms, that, ashas already been suggested, he has been wellnigh lost. We havethe religious or statuesque myth, we have the Weems myth, and theludicrous myth of the writer of paragraphs. We have the stately heroof Sparks, and Everett, and Marshall, and Irving, with all his greatdeeds as general and president duly recorded and set down in polishedand eloquent sentences; and we know him to be very great and wise andpure, and, be it said with bated breath, very dry and cold. We arealso familiar with the common-place man who so wonderfully illustratedthe power of character as set forth by various persons, either fromlove of novelty or because the great chief seemed to get in the way oftheir own heroes. 

If this is all, then the career of Washington and his towering famepresent a problem of which the world has never seen the like. But thiscannot be all: there must be more behind. Every one knows the famousStuart portrait of Washington. The last effort of the artist's cunningis there employed to paint his great subject for posterity. How sereneand beautiful it is! It is a noble picture for future ages to lookupon. Still it is not all. There is in the dining-room of MemorialHall at Cambridge another portrait, painted by Savage. It is cold anddry, hard enough to serve for the signboard of an inn, and able, onewould think, to withstand all weathers. Yet this picture has somethingwhich Stuart left out. There is a rugged strength in the face whichgives us pause, there is a massiveness in the jaw, telling of an irongrip and a relentless will, which has infinite meaning. 

 "Here's John the Smith's rough-hammered head. Great eye, Gross jaw, and griped lips do what granite can To give you the crown-grasper. What a man!"

In death as in life, there is something about Washington, call itgreatness, dignity, majesty, what you will, which seems to hold menaloof and keep them from knowing him. In truth he was a most difficultman to know. Carlyle, crying out through hundreds of pages and myriadsof words for the "silent man, " passed by with a sneer the mostabsolutely silent great man that history can show. Washington'sletters and speeches and messages fill many volumes, but they are allon business. They are profoundly silent as to the writer himself. Fromthis Carlyle concluded apparently that there was nothing to tell, --avery shallow conclusion if it was the one he really reached. Such anidea was certainly far, very far, from the truth. 

Behind the popular myths, behind the statuesque figure of the oratorand the preacher, behind the general and the president of thehistorian, there was a strong, vigorous man, in whose veins ran warm, red blood, in whose heart were stormy passions and deep sympathy forhumanity, in whose brain were far-reaching thoughts, and who wasinformed throughout his being with a resistless will. The veil of hissilence is not often lifted, and never intentionally, but now and thenthere is a glimpse behind it; and in stray sentences and in littleincidents strenuously gathered together; above all, in the rightinterpretation of the words, and the deeds, and the true history knownto all men, --we can surely find George Washington "the noblest figurethat ever stood in the forefront of a nation's life. "

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GEORGE WASHINGTON

CHAPTER I

THE OLD DOMINION

To know George Washington, we must first of all understand the societyin which he was born and brought up. As certain lilies draw theircolors from the subtle qualities of the soil hidden beneath the waterupon which they float, so are men profoundly affected by the obscureand insensible influences which surround their childhood and youth. The art of the chemist may discover perhaps the secret agent whichtints the white flower with blue or pink, but very often the elements, which analysis detects, nature alone can combine. The analogy isnot strained or fanciful when we apply it to a past society. We canseparate, and classify, and label the various elements, but to combinethem in such a way as to form a vivid picture is a work of surpassingdifficulty. This is especially true of such a land as Virginia in themiddle of the last century. Virginian society, as it existed at thatperiod, is utterly extinct. John Randolph said it had departed beforethe year 1800. Since then another century, with all its manifoldchanges, has wellnigh come and gone. Most important of all, the lastsurviving institution of colonial Virginia has been swept away in thecrash of civil war, which has opened a gulf between past and presentwider and deeper than any that time alone could make. 

Life and society as they existed in the Virginia of the eighteenthcentury seem, moreover, to have been sharply broken and ended. Wecannot trace our steps backward, as is possible in most cases, overthe road by which the world has traveled since those days. We arecompelled to take a long leap mentally in order to land ourselvessecurely in the Virginia which honored the second George, and lookedup to Walpole and Pitt as the arbiters of its fate. 

We live in a period of great cities, rapid communication, vast andvaried business interests, enormous diversity of occupation, greatindustries, diffused intelligence, farming by steam, and witheverything and everybody pervaded by an unresting, high-strungactivity. We transport ourselves to the Virginia of Washington'sboyhood, and find a people without cities or towns, with no meansof communication except what was afforded by rivers and wood roads;having no trades, no industries, no means of spreading knowledge, onlyone occupation, clumsily performed; and living a quiet, monotonousexistence, which can now hardly be realized. It is "a far cry toLoch-Awe, " as the Scotch proverb has it; and this old Virginiansociety, although we should find it sorry work living in it, is bothpleasant and picturesque in the pages of history. 

The population of Virginia, advancing toward half a million, anddivided pretty equally between the free whites and the enslavedblacks, was densest, to use a most inappropriate word, at the water'sedge and near the mouths of the rivers. Thence it crept backwards, following always the lines of the watercourses, and growing everthinner and more scattered until it reached the Blue Ridge. Behindthe mountains was the wilderness, haunted, as old John Lederer said acentury earlier, by monsters, and inhabited, as the eighteenth-centuryVirginians very well knew, by savages and wild beasts, much more realand dangerous than the hobgoblins of their ancestors. 

The population, in proportion to its numbers, was very widelydistributed. It was not collected in groups, after the fashion withwhich we are now familiar, for then there were no cities or townsin Virginia. The only place which could pretend to either name wasNorfolk, the solitary seaport, which, with its six or seven thousandinhabitants, formed the most glaring exception that any rulesolicitous of proof could possibly desire. Williamsburg, the capital, was a straggling village, somewhat overweighted with the publicbuildings and those of the college. It would light up into life andvivacity during the season of politics and society, and then relapseagain into the country stillness. Outside of Williamsburg and Norfolkthere were various points which passed in the catalogue and on the mapfor towns, but which in reality were merely the shadows of a name. Themost populous consisted of a few houses inhabited by storekeepers andtraders, some tobacco warehouses, and a tavern, clustered about thechurch or court-house. Many others had only the church, or, if acounty seat, the church and court-house, keeping solitary state in thewoods. There once a week the sound of prayer and gossip, or at longerintervals the voices of lawyers and politicians, and the shouts of thewrestlers on the green, broke through the stillness which with thegoing down of the sun resumed its sway in the forests. 

There was little chance here for that friction of mind with mind, orfor that quick interchange of thought and sentiment and knowledgewhich are familiar to the dwellers in cities, and which have drivenforward more rapidly than all else what we call civilization. Raremeetings for special objects with persons as solitary in their livesand as ill-informed as himself, constituted to the average Virginianthe world of society, and there was nothing from outside to supply thedeficiencies at home. Once a fortnight a mail crawled down fromthe North, and once a month another crept on to the South. GeorgeWashington was four years old when the first newspaper was publishedin the colony, and he was twenty when the first actors appeared atWilliamsburg. What was not brought was not sought. The Virginians didnot go down to the sea in ships. They were not a seafaring race, andas they had neither trade nor commerce they were totally destitute ofthe inquiring, enterprising spirit, and of the knowledge broughtby those pursuits which involve travel and adventure. The Englishtobacco-ships worked their way up the rivers, taking the great staple, and leaving their varied goods, and their tardy news from Europe, wherever they stopped. This was the sum of the information andintercourse which Virginia got from across the sea, for travelers werepractically unknown. Few came on business, fewer still from curiosity. Stray peddlers from the North, or trappers from beyond the mountainswith their packs of furs, chiefly constituted what would now be calledthe traveling public. There were in truth no means of traveling excepton foot, on horseback, or by boat on the rivers, which formed thebest and most expeditious highways. Stage-coaches, or other publicconveyances, were unknown. Over some of the roads the rich man, withhis six horses and black outriders, might make his way in a lumberingcarriage, but most of the roads were little better than woodlandpaths; and the rivers, innocent of bridges, offered in the uncertainfords abundance of inconvenience, not unmixed with peril. The tavernswere execrable, and only the ever-ready hospitality of the peoplemade it possible to get from place to place. The result was that theVirginians stayed at home, and sought and welcomed the rare strangerat their gates as if they were well aware that they were entertainingangels. 

It is not difficult to sift this home-keeping people, and find outthat portion which was Virginia, for the mass was but an appendageof the small fraction which ruled, led, and did the thinking for thewhole community. Half the people were slaves, and in that singlewretched word their history is told. They were, on the whole, welland kindly treated, but they have no meaning in history except as aninstitution, and as an influence in the lives, feelings, and characterof the men who made the state. 

Above the slaves, little better than they in condition, but separatedfrom them by the wide gulf of race and color, were the indented whiteservants, some convicts, some redemptioners. They, too, have theirstory told when we have catalogued them. We cross another gulf andcome to the farmers, to the men who grew wheat as well as tobacco ontheir own land, sometimes working alone, sometimes the owners of a fewslaves. Some of these men were of the class well known since as the"poor whites" of the South, the weaker brothers who could not resistthe poison of slavery, but sank under it into ignorance and poverty. They were contented because their skins were white, and because theywere thereby part of an aristocracy to whom labor was a badge ofserfdom. The larger portion of this middle class, however, werethrifty and industrious enough. Including as they did in their ranksthe hunters and pioneers, the traders and merchants, all the freemenin fact who toiled and worked, they formed the mass of the whitepopulation, and furnished the bone and sinew and some of theintellectual power of Virginia. The only professional men were theclergy, for the lawyers were few, and growing to importance only asthe Revolution began; while the physicians were still fewer, and as aclass of no importance at all. The clergy were a picturesqueelement in the social landscape, but they were as a body very poorrepresentatives of learning, religion, and morality. They ranged fromhedge parsons and Fleet chaplains, who had slunk away from Englandto find a desirable obscurity in the new world, to divines of reallearning and genuine piety, who were the supporters of the college, and who would have been a credit to any society. These last, however, were lamentably few in number. The mass of the clergy were men whoworked their own lands, sold tobacco, were the boon companions of theplanters, hunted, shot, drank hard, and lived well, performing theirsacred duties in a perfunctory and not always in a decent manner. 

The clergy, however, formed the stepping-stone socially betweenthe farmers, traders, and small planters, and the highest and mostimportant class in Virginian society. The great planters were themen who owned, ruled, and guided Virginia. Their vast estates werescattered along the rivers from the seacoast to the mountains. Eachplantation was in itself a small village, with the owner's house inthe centre, surrounded by outbuildings and negro cabins, and thepastures, meadows, and fields of tobacco stretching away on all sides. The rare traveler, pursuing his devious way on horseback or in a boat, would catch sight of these noble estates opening up from the road orthe river, and then the forest would close in around him for severalmiles, until through the thinning trees he would see again the whitecabins and the cleared fields of the next plantation. 

In such places dwelt the Virginian planters, surrounded by theirfamilies and slaves, and in a solitude broken only by the infrequentand eagerly welcomed stranger, by their duties as vestrymen andmagistrates, or by the annual pilgrimage to Williamsburg in search ofsociety, or to sit in the House of Burgesses. They were occupied bythe care of their plantations, which involved a good deal of riding inthe open air, but which was at best an easy and indolent pursuit madelight by slave labor and trained overseers. As a result the plantershad an abundance of spare time, which they devoted to cock-fighting, horse-racing, fishing, shooting, and fox-hunting, --all, save thefirst, wholesome and manly sports, but which did not demand any unduemental strain. There is, indeed, no indication that the Virginianshad any great love for intellectual exertion. When the amiableattorney-general of Charles II. Said to the Virginian commissioners, pleading the cause of learning and religion, "Damn your souls! growtobacco!" he uttered a precept which the mass of the planters seem tohave laid to heart. For fifty years there were no schools, and down tothe Revolution even the apologies bearing that honored name werefew, and the college was small and struggling. In some of the greatfamilies, the eldest sons would be sent to England and to the greatuniversities: they would make the grand tour, play a part in thefashionable society of London, and come back to their plantations finegentlemen and scholars. Such was Colonel Byrd, in the early part ofthe eighteenth century, a friend of the Earl of Orrery, and the authorof certain amusing memoirs. Such at a later day was Arthur Lee, doctor and diplomat, student and politician. But most of these younggentlemen thus sent abroad to improve their minds and manners led alife not materially different from that of our charming friend, HarryWarrington, after his arrival in England. 

The sons who stayed at home sometimes gathered a little learning fromthe clergyman of the parish, or received a fair education at theCollege of William and Mary, but very many did not have even so muchas this. There was not in truth much use for learning in managing aplantation or raising horses, and men get along surprisingly wellwithout that which they do not need, especially if the acquisitiondemands labor. The Virginian planter thought little and read less, and there were no learned professions to hold out golden prizes andstimulate the love of knowledge. The women fared even worse, forthey could not go to Europe or to William and Mary's, so that afterexhausting the teaching capacity of the parson they settled down to around of household duties and to the cares of a multitude of slaves, working much harder and more steadily than their lords and mastersever thought of doing. 

The only general form of intellectual exertion was that of governing. The planters managed local affairs through the vestries, and ruledVirginia in the House of Burgesses. To this work they paid strictattention, and, after the fashion of their race, did it very well andvery efficiently. They were an extremely competent body whenever theymade up their minds to do anything; but they liked the life and habitsof Squire Western, and saw no reason for adopting any others until itwas necessary. 

There were, of course, vast differences in the condition of theplanters. Some counted their acres by thousands and their slaves byhundreds, while others scrambled along as best they might with oneplantation and a few score of negroes. Some dwelt in very handsomehouses, picturesque and beautiful, like Gunston Hall or Stratford, orin vast, tasteless, and extravagant piles like Rosewell. Others werecontented with very modest houses, consisting of one story with agabled roof, and flanked by two massive chimneys. In some houses therewas a brave show of handsome plate and china, fine furniture, andLondon-made carriages, rich silks and satins, and brocaded dresses. In others there were earthenware and pewter, homespun and woolen, andlittle use for horses, except in the plough or under the saddle. 

But there were certain qualities common to all the Virginia planters. The luxury was imperfect. The splendor was sometimes barbaric. Therewere holes in the brocades, and the fresh air of heaven would oftenblow through a broken window upon the glittering silver and the costlychina. It was an easy-going aristocracy, unfinished, and frequentlyslovenly in its appointments, after the fashion of the warmer climatesand the regions of slavery. 

Everything was plentiful except ready money. In this rich and poorwere alike. They were all ahead of their income, and it seems as if, from one cause or another, from extravagance or improvidence, fromhorses or the gaming-table, every Virginian family went throughbankruptcy about once in a generation. 

When Harry Warrington arrived in England, all his relations atCastlewood regarded the handsome young fellow as a prince, with hisacres and his slaves. It was a natural and pleasing delusion, born ofthe possession of land and serfs, to which the Virginians themselvesgave ready credence. They forgot that the land was so plentiful thatit was of little value; that slaves were the most wasteful form oflabor; and that a failure of the tobacco crop, pledged before it wasgathered, meant ruin, although they had been reminded more than onceof this last impressive fact. They knew that they had plenty to eatand drink, and a herd of people to wait upon them and cultivate theirland, as well as obliging London merchants always ready to furnishevery luxury in return for the mortgage of a crop or an estate. Sothey gave themselves little anxiety as to the future and lived in thepresent, very much to their own satisfaction. 

To the communities of trade and commerce, to the mercantile andindustrial spirit of to-day, such an existence and such modes of lifeappear distressingly lax and unprogressive. The sages of the bankparlors and the counting-rooms would shake their heads at suchspendthrifts as these, refuse to discount their paper, and confidentlypredict that by no possibility could they come to good. They had theirdefects, no doubt, these planters and farmers of Virginia. The lifethey led was strongly developed on the animal side, and was perhapsneither stimulating nor elevating. The living was the reverse ofplain, and the thinking was neither extremely high nor notablylaborious. Yet in this very particular there is something ratherrestful and pleasant to the eye wearied by the sight of incessantmovement, and to the ear deafened by the continual shout that nothingis good that does not change, and that all change must be good. Weshould probably find great discomforts and many unpleasant limitationsin the life and habits of a hundred years ago on any part of theglobe, and yet at a time when it seems as if rapidity and movementwere the last words and the ultimate ideals of civilization, it israther agreeable to turn to such a community as the eighteenth-centuryplanters of Virginia. They lived contentedly on the acres of theirfathers, and except at rare and stated intervals they had no otherinterests than those furnished by their ancestral domain. At thecourt-house, at the vestry, or in Williamsburg, they met theirneighbors and talked very keenly about the politics of Europe, or theaffairs of the colony. They were little troubled about religion, butthey worshiped after the fashion of their fathers, and had a seriousfidelity to church and king. They wrangled with their governors overappropriations, but they lived on good terms with those eminentpersons, and attended state balls at what they called the palace, anddanced and made merry with much stateliness and grace. Their every-daylife ran on in the quiet of their plantations as calmly as one oftheir own rivers. The English trader would come and go; the infrequentstranger would be received and welcomed; Christmas would be kept inhearty English fashion; young men from a neighboring estate wouldride over through the darkening woods to court, or dance, or playthe fiddle, like Patrick Henry or Thomas Jefferson; and these simpleevents were all that made a ripple on the placid stream. Much time wasgiven to sports, rough, hearty, manly sports, with a spice of danger, and these, with an occasional adventurous dash into the wilderness, kept them sound and strong and brave, both in body and mind. There wasnothing languid or effeminate about the Virginian planter. He was arobust man, quite ready to fight or work when the time came, and wellfitted to deal with affairs when he was needed. He was a free-handed, hospitable, generous being, not much given to study or thought, butthoroughly public-spirited and keenly alive to the interests ofVirginia. Above all things he was an aristocrat, set apart by thedark line of race, color, and hereditary servitude, as proud as theproudest Austrian with his endless quarterings, as sturdy and vigorousas an English yeoman, and as jealous of his rights and privilegesas any baron who stood by John at Runnymede. To this aristocracy, careless and indolent, given to rough pleasures and indifferent to thefiner and higher sides of life, the call came, as it comes to all mensooner or later, and in response they gave their country soldiers, statesmen, and jurists of the highest order, and fit for the greatwork they were asked to do. We must go back to Athens to find anotherinstance of a society so small in numbers, and yet capable of such anoutburst of ability and force. They were of sound English stock, witha slight admixture of the Huguenots, the best blood of France; andalthough for a century and a half they had seemed to stagnate inthe New World, they were strong, fruitful, and effective beyond themeasure of ordinary races when the hour of peril and trial was athand. 

CHAPTER II

THE WASHINGTONS

Such was the world and such the community which counted as a smallfraction the Washington family. Our immediate concern is with thatfamily, for before we approach the man we must know his ancestors. Thegreatest leader of scientific thought in this century has come tothe aid of the genealogist, and given to the results of the latter'ssomewhat discredited labors a vitality and meaning which it seemedimpossible that dry and dusty pedigrees and barren tables of descentshould ever possess. We have always selected our race-horses accordingto the doctrines of evolution, and we now study the character of agreat man by examining first the history of his forefathers. 

Washington made so great an impression upon the world in his lifetimethat genealogists at once undertook for him the construction of asuitable pedigree. The excellent Sir Isaac Heard, garter king-at-arms, worked out a genealogy which seemed reasonable enough, and then wroteto the president in relation to it. Washington in reply thanked himfor his politeness, sent him the Virginian genealogy of his ownbranch, and after expressing a courteous interest said, in his simpleand direct fashion, that he had been a busy man and had paid butlittle attention to the subject. His knowledge about his Englishforefathers was in fact extremely slight. He had heard merely thatthe first of the name in Virginia had come from one of the northerncounties of England, but whether from Lancashire or Yorkshire, or onestill more northerly, he could not tell. Sir Isaac was not thoroughlysatisfied with the correctness of his own work, but presently Bakertook it up in his history of Northamptonshire, and perfected it tohis own satisfaction and that of the world in general. This genealogyderived Washington's descent from the owners of the manor of Sulgrave, in Northamptonshire, and thence carried it back to the Norman knight, Sir William de Hertburn. According to this pedigree the Virginiansettlers, John and Lawrence, were the sons of Lawrence Washington ofSulgrave Manor, and this genealogy was adopted by Sparks and Irving, as well as by the public at large. Twenty years ago, however, ColonelChester, by his researches, broke the most essential link in the chainforged by Heard and Baker, proving clearly that the Virginian settlerscould not have been the sons of Lawrence of Sulgrave, as identified bythe garter king-at-arms. Still more recently the mythical spirit hastaken violent possession of the Washington ancestry, and an ingeniousgentleman has traced the pedigree of our first president back toThorfinn and thence to Odin, which is sufficiently remote, dignified, and lofty to satisfy the most exacting Welshman that ever lived. Stillthe breach made by Colonel Chester was not repaired, although manywriters, including some who should have known better, clung withundiminished faith to the Heard pedigree. It was known that ColonelChester himself believed that he had found the true line, coming, itis supposed, through a younger branch of the Sulgrave race, but hedied before he had discovered the one bit of evidence necessary toprove an essential step, and he was too conscientiously accurate toleave anything to conjecture. Since then the researches of Mr. HenryE. Waters have established the pedigree of the Virginian Washingtons, and we are now able to know something of the men from whom GeorgeWashington drew his descent. 

In that interesting land where everything, according to our narrowideas, is upside down, it is customary, when an individual arrives atdistinction, to confer nobility upon his ancestors instead of uponhis children. The Washingtons offer an interesting example of theapplication of this Chinese system in the Western world, for, if theyhave not been actually ennobled in recognition of the deeds of theirgreat descendant, they have at least become the subjects of intenseand general interest. Every one of the name who could be discoveredanywhere has been dragged forth into the light, and has had all thatwas known about him duly recorded and set down. By scanning familytrees and pedigrees, and picking up stray bits of information here andthere, we can learn in a rude and general fashion what manner of menthose were who claimed descent from William of Hertburn, and who borethe name of Washington in the mother-country. As Mr. Galton passesa hundred faces before the same highly sensitized plate, and gets aphotograph which is a likeness of no one of his subjects, and yetresembles them all, so we may turn the camera of history upon theseWashingtons, as they flash up for a moment from the dim past, and hopeto obtain what Professor Huxley calls a "generic" picture of the race, even if the outlines be somewhat blurred and indistinct. 

In the North of England, in the region conquered first by Saxons andthen by Danes, lies the little village of Washington. It came into thepossession of Sir William de Hertburn, and belonged to him at the timeof the Boldon Book in 1183. Soon after, he or his descendants tookthe name of De Wessyngton, and there they remained for two centuries, knights of the palatinate, holding their lands by a military tenure, fighting in all the wars, and taking part in tournaments with becomingsplendor. By the beginning of the fifteenth century the line of feudalknights of the palatinate was extinct, and the manor passed from thefamily by the marriage of Dionisia de Wessyngton. But the main stockhad in the mean time thrown out many offshoots, which had taken firmroot in other parts and in many counties of England. We hear ofseveral who came in various ways to eminence. There was the learnedand vigorous prior of Durham, John de Wessyngton, probably one of theoriginal family, and the name appears in various places after his timein records and on monuments, indicating a flourishing and increasingrace. Lawrence Washington, the direct ancestor of the first Presidentof the United States, was, in the sixteenth century, the mayor ofNorthampton, and received from King Henry VIII. The manor of Sulgravein 1538. In the next century we find traces of Robert Washington ofthe Adwick family, a rich merchant of Leeds, and of his son JosephWashington, a learned lawyer and author, of Gray's Inn. About the sametime we hear of Richard Washington and Philip Washington holding highplaces at University College, Oxford. The Sulgrave branch, however, was the most numerous and prosperous. From the mayor of Northamptonwere descended Sir William Washington, who married the half-sister ofGeorge Villiers, Duke of Buckingham; Sir Henry Washington, who made adesperate defense of Worcester against the forces of the Parliament in1646; Lieutenant-Colonel James Washington, who fell at the siege ofPontefract, fighting for King Charles; another James, of a later time, who was implicated in Monmouth's rebellion, fled to Holland and becamethe progenitor of a flourishing and successful family, which hasspread to Germany and there been ennobled; Sir Lawrence Washington, ofGarsdon, whose grand-daughter married Robert Shirley, Baron Ferrers;and others of less note, but all men of property and standing. Theyseem to have been a successful, thrifty race, owning lands andestates, wise magistrates and good soldiers, marrying well, andincreasing their wealth and strength from generation to generation. They were of Norman stock, knights and gentlemen in the full sense ofthe word before the French Revolution, and we can detect in them hereand there a marked strain of the old Norse blood, carrying with itacross the centuries the wild Berserker spirit which for centuriesmade the adventurous Northmen the terror of Europe. They were a strongrace evidently, these Washingtons, whom we see now only by glimpsesthrough the mists of time, not brilliant apparently, never winning thevery highest fortune, having their failures and reverses no doubt, but on the whole prudent, bold men, always important in their severalstations, ready to fight and ready to work, and as a rule successfulin that which they set themselves to do. 

In 1658 the two brothers, John and Lawrence, appeared in Virginia. Ashas been proved by Mr. Waters, they were of the Sulgrave family, the sons of Lawrence Washington, fifth son of the elder Lawrence ofSulgrave and Brington. The father of the emigrants was a fellow ofBrasenose College, Oxford, and rector of Purleigh, from which livinghe was ejected by the Puritans as both "scandalous" and "malignant. "That he was guilty of the former charge we may well doubt; but that hewas, in the language of the time, "malignant, " must be admitted, forall his family, including his brothers, Sir William Washington ofPackington, and Sir John Washington of Thrapston, his nephew, SirHenry Washington, and his nephew-in-law, William Legge, ancestor ofthe Earl of Dartmouth, were strongly on the side of the king. In amarriage which seems to have been regarded as beneath the dignity ofthe family, and in the poverty consequent upon the ejectment fromhis living, we can find the reason for the sons of the Rev. LawrenceWashington going forth into Virginia to find their fortune, and flyingfrom the world of victorious Puritanism which offered just then solittle hope to royalists like themselves. Yet what was poverty inEngland was something much more agreeable in the New World of America. The emigrant brothers at all events seem to have had resources of asufficient kind, and to have been men of substance, for they purchasedlands and established themselves at Bridges Creek, in WestmorelandCounty. With this brief statement, Lawrence disappears, leaving usnothing further than the knowledge that he had numerous descendants. John, with whom we are more concerned, figures at once in the colonialrecords of Maryland. He made complaint to the Maryland authorities, soon after his arrival, against Edward Prescott, merchant, and captainof the ship in which he had come over, for hanging a woman during thevoyage for witchcraft. We have a letter of his, explaining that hecould not appear at the first trial because he was about to baptizehis son, and had bidden the neighbors and gossips to the feast. Alittle incident this, dug out of the musty records, but it shows us anactive, generous man, intolerant of oppression, public-spirited andhospitable, social, and friendly in his new relations. He soon afterwas called to mourn the death of his English wife and of two children, but he speedily consoled himself by taking a second wife, Anne Pope, by whom he had three children, Lawrence, John, and Anne. According tothe Virginian tradition, John Washington the elder was a surveyor, andmade a location of lands which was set aside because they had beenassigned to the Indians. It is quite apparent that he was a forehandedperson who acquired property and impressed himself upon his neighbors. In 1667, when he had been but ten years in the colony, he was chosento the House of Burgesses; and eight years later he was made a coloneland sent with a thousand men to join the Marylanders in destroyingthe "Susquehannocks, " at the "Piscataway" fort, on account of somemurdering begun by another tribe. As a feat of arms, the expeditionwas not a very brilliant affair. The Virginians and Marylanders killedhalf a dozen Indian chiefs during a parley, and then invested thefort. After repulsing several sorties, they stupidly allowed theIndians to escape in the night and carry murder and pillage throughthe outlying settlements, lighting up first the flames of savage warand then the fiercer fire of domestic insurrection. In the next yearwe hear again of John Washington in the House of Burgesses, when SirWilliam Berkeley assailed his troops for the murder of the Indiansduring the parley. Popular feeling, however, was clearly with thecolonel, for nothing was done and the matter dropped. At that point, too, in 1676, John Washington disappears from sight, and we know onlythat as his will was proved in 1677, he must have died soon after thescene with Berkeley. He was buried in the family vault at BridgesCreek, and left a good estate to be divided among his children. Thecolonel was evidently both a prudent and popular man, and quitedisposed to bustle about in the world in which he found himself. Heacquired lands, came to the front at once as a leader although anew-comer in the country, was evidently a fighting man as is shown byhis selection to command the Virginian forces, and was honored by hisneighbors, who gave his name to the parish in which he dwelt. Thenhe died and his son Lawrence reigned in his stead, and became by hiswife, Mildred Warner, the father of John, Augustine, and MildredWashington. 

This second son, Augustine, farmer and planter like his forefathers, married first Jane Butler, by whom he had three sons and a daughter, and second, Mary Ball, by whom he had four sons and two daughters. Theeldest child of these second nuptials was named George, and was bornon February 11 (O. S. ), 1732, at Bridges Creek. The house in whichthis event occurred was a plain, wooden farmhouse of the primitiveVirginian pattern, with four rooms on the ground floor, an attic storywith a long, sloping roof, and a massive brick chimney. Three yearsafter George Washington's birth it is said to have been burned, andthe family for this or some other reason removed to another estate inwhat is now Stafford County. The second house was like the first, andstood on rising ground looking across a meadow to the Rappahannock, and beyond the river to the village of Fredericksburg, which wasnearly opposite. Here, in 1743, Augustine Washington died somewhatsuddenly, at the age of forty-nine, from an attack of gout brought onby exposure in the rain, and was buried with his fathers in the oldvault at Bridges Creek. Here, too, the boyhood of Washington waspassed, and therefore it becomes necessary to look about us and seewhat we can learn of this important period of his life. 

We know nothing about his father, except that he was kindly andaffectionate, attached to his wife and children, and apparentlyabsorbed in the care of his estates. On his death the children camewholly under the maternal influence and direction. Much has beenwritten about the "mother of Washington, " but as a matter of fact, although she lived to an advanced age, we know scarcely more about herthan we do about her husband. She was of gentle birth, and possesseda vigorous character and a good deal of business capacity. Theadvantages of education were given in but slight measure to theVirginian ladies of her time, and Mrs. Washington offered no exceptionto the general rule. Her reading was confined to a small number ofvolumes, chiefly of a devotional character, her favorite apparentlybeing Hale's "Moral and Divine Contemplations. " She evidently knew nolanguage but her own, and her spelling was extremely bad even in thatage of uncertain orthography. Certain qualities, however, are clear tous even now through all the dimness. We can see that Mary Washingtonwas gifted with strong sense, and had the power of conducting businessmatters providently and exactly. She was an imperious woman, of strongwill, ruling her kingdom alone. Above all she was very dignified, verysilent, and very sober-minded. That she was affectionate and lovingcannot be doubted, for she retained to the last a profound hold uponthe reverential devotion of her son, and yet as he rose steadily tothe pinnacle of human greatness, she could only say that "Georgehad been a good boy, and she was sure he would do his duty. " Not abrilliant woman evidently, not one suited to shine in courts, conductintrigues, or adorn literature, yet able to transmit moral qualitiesto her oldest son, which, mingled with those of the Washingtons, wereof infinite value in the foundation of a great Republic. She foundherself a widow at an early age, with a family of young children toeducate and support. Her means were narrow, for although AugustineWashington was able to leave what was called a landed estate to eachson, it was little more than idle capital, and the income in readymoney was by no means so evident as the acres. 

Many are the myths, and deplorably few the facts, that have comedown to us in regard to Washington's boyhood. For the former we areindebted to the illustrious Weems, and to that personage a few morewords must be devoted. Weems has been held up to the present agein various ways, usually, it must be confessed, of an unflatteringnature, and "mendacious" is the adjective most commonly applied tohim. There has been in reality a good deal of needless confusion aboutWeems and his book, for he was not a complex character, and neither henor his writings are difficult to value or understand. By profession aclergyman or preacher, by nature an adventurer, Weems loved notoriety, money, and a wandering life. So he wrote books which he correctlybelieved would be popular, and sold them not only through the regularchannels, but by peddling them himself as he traveled about thecountry. In this way he gratified all his propensities, and no doubtderived from life a good deal of simple pleasure. Chance brought himnear Washington in the closing days, and his commercial instincttold him that here was the subject of all others for his pen andhis market. He accordingly produced the biography which had so muchsuccess. Judged solely as literature, the book is beneath contempt. The style is turgid, overloaded, and at times silly. The statementsare loose, the mode of narration confused and incoherent, and themoralizing is flat and common-place to the last degree. Yet therewas a certain sincerity of feeling underneath all the bombast andplatitudes, and this saved the book. The biography did not go, and wasnot intended to go, into the hands of the polite society of the greateastern towns. It was meant for the farmers, the pioneers, and thebackwoodsmen of the country. It went into their homes, and passed withthem beyond the Alleghanies and out to the plains and valleys of thegreat West. The very defects of the book helped it to success amongthe simple, hard-working, hard-fighting race engaged in the conquestof the American continent. To them its heavy and tawdry style, itsstaring morals, and its real patriotism all seemed eminently befittingthe national hero, and thus Weems created the Washington of thepopular fancy. The idea grew up with the country, and became soingrained in the popular thought that finally everybody was affectedby it, and even the most stately and solemn of the Washingtonbiographers adopted the unsupported tales of the itinerant parson andbook-peddler. 

In regard to the public life of Washington, Weems took the facts knownto every one, and drawn for the most part from the gazettes. He thendressed them up in his own peculiar fashion and gave them to theworld. All this, forming of course nine tenths of his book, haspassed, despite its success, into oblivion. The remaining tenthdescribed Washington's boyhood until his fourteenth or fifteenth year, and this, which is the work of the author's imagination, has lived. Weems, having set himself up as absolutely the only authority as tothis period, has been implicitly followed, and has thus come to demandserious consideration. Until Weems is weighed and disposed of, wecannot even begin an attempt to get at the real Washington. 

Weems was not a cold-blooded liar, a mere forger of anecdotes. He wassimply a man destitute of historical sense, training, or morals, readyto take the slenderest fact and work it up for the purposes of themarket until it became almost as impossible to reduce it to itsoriginal dimensions as it was for the fisherman to get the Afrit backinto his jar. In a word, Weems was an approved myth-maker. No betterexample can be given than the way in which he described himself. Itis believed that he preached once, and possibly oftener, to acongregation which numbered Washington among its members. Thereupon hepublished himself in his book as the rector of Mount Vernon parish. There was, to begin with, no such parish. There was Truro parish, inwhich was a church called indifferently Pohick or Mount Vernon church. Of this church Washington was a vestryman until 1785, when he joinedthe church at Alexandria. The Rev. Lee Massey was the clergyman of theMount Vernon church, and the church at Alexandria had nothing to dowith Mount Vernon. There never was, moreover, such a person as therector of Mount Vernon parish, but it was the Weems way of treatinghis appearance before the great man, and of deceiving the world withthe notion of an intimacy which the title implied. 

Weems, of course, had no difficulty with the public life, but indescribing the boyhood he was thrown on his own resources, and outof them he evolved the cherry-tree, the refusal to fight or permitfighting among the boys at school, and the initials in the garden. This last story is to the effect that Augustine Washington plantedseeds in such a manner that when they sprouted they formed on theearth the initials of his son's name, and the boy being much delightedthereby, the father explained to him that it was the work of theCreator, and thus inculcated a profound belief in God. This taleis taken bodily from Dr. Beattie's biographical sketch of his son, published in England in 1799, and may be dismissed at once. As to theother two more familiar anecdotes there is not a scintilla of evidencethat they had any foundation, and with them may be included the coltstory, told by Mr. Custis, a simple variation of the cherry-treetheme, which is Washington's early love of truth. Weems says thathis stories were told him by a lady, and "a good old gentleman, " whoremembered the incidents, while Mr. Custis gives no authority for hisminute account of a trivial event over a century old when he wrote. To a writer who invented the rector of Mount Vernon, the furtherinvention of a couple of Boswells would be a trifle. I say Boswellsadvisedly, for these stories are told with the utmost minuteness, andthe conversations between Washington and his father are given as iffrom a stenographic report. How Mr. Custis, usually so accurate, cameto be so far infected with the Weems myth as to tell the colt storyafter the Weems manner, cannot now be determined. There can be nodoubt that Washington, like most healthy boys, got into a good deal ofmischief, and it is not at all impossible that he injured fruit-treesand confessed that he had done so. It may be accepted as certain thathe rode and mastered many unbroken thoroughbred colts, and it ispossible that one of them burst a blood-vessel in the process anddied, and that the boy promptly told his mother of the accident. Butthis is the utmost credit which these two anecdotes can claim. Even somuch as this cannot be said of certain other improving tales of likenature. That Washington lectured his playmates on the wickedness offighting, and in the year 1754 allowed himself to be knocked down inthe presence of his soldiers, and thereupon begged his assailant'spardon for having spoken roughly to him, are stories so silly andso foolishly impossible that they do not deserve an instant'sconsideration. 

There is nothing intrinsically impossible in either the cherry-tree orthe colt incident, nor would there be in a hundred others which mightbe readily invented. The real point is that these stories, as told byWeems and Mr. Custis, are on their face hopelessly and ridiculouslyfalse. They are so, not merely because they have no vestige ofevidence to support them, but because they are in every word andline the offspring of a period more than fifty years later. NoEnglish-speaking people, certainly no Virginians, ever thought orbehaved or talked in 1740 like the personages in Weems's stories, whatever they may have done in 1790, or at the beginning of the nextcentury. These precious anecdotes belong to the age of Miss Edgeworthand Hannah More and Jane Taylor. They are engaging specimens of the"Harry and Lucy" and "Purple Jar" morality, and accurately reflect thepale didacticism which became fashionable in England at the close ofthe last century. They are as untrue to nature and to fact at theperiod to which they are assigned as would be efforts to depictAugustine Washington and his wife in the dress of the Frenchrevolution discussing the propriety of worshiping the Goddess ofReason. 

To enter into any serious historical criticism of these stories wouldbe to break a butterfly. So much as this even has been said onlybecause these wretched fables have gone throughout the world, and itis time that they were swept away into the dust-heaps of history. Theyrepresent Mr. And Mrs. Washington as affected and priggish people, given to cheap moralizing, and, what is far worse, they have servedto place Washington himself in a ridiculous light to an age which hasoutgrown the educational foibles of seventy-five years ago. AugustineWashington and his wife were a gentleman and lady of the eighteenthcentury, living in Virginia. So far as we know without guessing orconjecture, they were simple, honest, and straight-forward, devoted tothe care of their family and estate, and doing their duty sensibly andafter the fashion of their time. Their son, to whom the greatest wronghas been done, not only never did anything common or mean, but fromthe beginning to the end of his life he was never for an instantridiculous or affected, and he was as utterly removed from cantingor priggishness as any human being could well be. Let us thereforeconsign the Weems stories and their offspring to the limbo ofhistorical rubbish, and try to learn what the plain facts tell us ofthe boy Washington. 

Unfortunately these same facts are at first very few, so few that theytell us hardly anything. We know when and where Washington was born;and how, when he was little more than three years old, [1] he was takenfrom Bridges Creek to the banks of the Rappahannock. There he wasplaced under the charge of one Hobby, the sexton of the parish, tolearn his alphabet and his pothooks; and when that worthy man's storeof learning was exhausted he was sent back to Bridges Creek, soonafter his father's death, to live with his half-brother Augustine, and obtain the benefits of a school kept by a Mr. Williams. There hereceived what would now be called a fair common-school education, wholly destitute of any instruction in languages, ancient or modern, but apparently with some mathematical training. 

[Footnote 1: There is a conflict about the period of this removal (seeabove, p. 37). Tradition places it in 1735, but the Rev. Mr. McGuire(_Religious Opinions of Washington_) puts it in 1739. ]

That he studied faithfully cannot be doubted, and we know, too, thathe matured early, and was a tall, active, and muscular boy. He couldoutwalk and outrun and outride any of his companions. As he couldno doubt have thrashed any of them too, he was, in virtue of thesequalities, which are respected everywhere by all wholesome minds, andespecially by boys, a leader among his school-fellows. We know furtherthat he was honest and true, and a lad of unusual promise, not becauseof the goody-goody anecdotes of the myth-makers, but because hewas liked and trusted by such men as his brother Lawrence and LordFairfax. 

There he was, at all events, in his fourteenth year, a big, strong, hearty boy, offering a serious problem to his mother, who wasstruggling along with many acres, little money, and five children. Mrs. Washington's chief desire naturally was to put George in the wayof earning a living, which no doubt seemed far more important thangetting an education, and, as he was a sober-minded boy, the same ideawas probably profoundly impressed on his own mind also. This conditionof domestic affairs led to the first attempt to give Washington astart in life, which has been given to us until very lately in asomewhat decorated form. The fact is, that in casting about forsomething to do, it occurred to some one, very likely to the boyhimself, that it would be a fine idea to go to sea. His masculinefriends and relatives urged the scheme upon Mrs. Washington, whoconsented very reluctantly, if at all, not liking the notion ofparting with her oldest son, even in her anxiety to have him earn hisbread. When it came to the point, however, she finally decided againsthis going, determined probably by a very sensible letter from herbrother, Joseph Ball, an English lawyer. In all the ornamentedversions we are informed that the boy was to enter the royal navy, and that a midshipman's warrant was procured for him. There does notappear to be any valid authority for the royal navy, the warrant, orthe midshipman. The contemporary Virginian letters speak simply of"going to sea, " while Mr. Ball says distinctly that the plan was toenter the boy on a tobacco-ship, with an excellent chance of beingpressed on a man-of-war, and a very faint prospect of either gettinginto the navy, or even rising to be the captain of one of the pettytrading-vessels familiar to Virginian planters. Some recent writershave put Mr. Ball aside as not knowing what was intended in regard tohis nephew, but in view of the difficulty at that time of obtainingcommissions in the navy without great political influence, it seemsprobable that Mrs. Washington's brother knew very well what he wastalking about, and he certainly wrote a very sensible letter. A bold, adventurous boy, eager to earn his living and make his way in theworld, would, like many others before him, look longingly to the seaas the highway to fortune and success. To Washington the romance ofthe sea was represented by the tobacco-ship creeping up the river andbringing all the luxuries and many of the necessaries of life fromvaguely distant countries. No doubt he wished to go on one of thesevessels and try his luck, and very possibly the royal navy was hopedfor as the ultimate result. The effort was certainly made to sendhim to sea, but it failed, and he went back to school to study moremathematics. 

Apart from the fact that the exact sciences in moderate degree wereabout all that Mr. Williams could teach, this branch of learning hadan immediate practical value, inasmuch as surveying was almost theonly immediately gainful pursuit open to a young Virginia gentleman, who sorely needed a little ready money that he might buy slaves andwork a plantation. So Washington studied on for two years more, andfitted himself to be a surveyor. There are still extant some earlypapers belonging to this period, chiefly fragments of schoolexercises, which show that he already wrote the bold, handsomehand with which the world was to become familiar, and that he madegeometrical figures and notes of surveys with the neatness andaccuracy which clung to him in all the work of his life, whether greator small. Among those papers, too, were found many copies of legalforms, and a set of rules, over a hundred in number, as to etiquetteand behavior, carefully written out. It has always been supposed thatthese rules were copied, but it was reserved apparently for the stormsof a mighty civil war to lay bare what may have been, if not thesource of the rules themselves, the origin and suggestion of theircompilation. At that time a little volume was found in Virginiabearing the name of George Washington in a boyish hand on thefly-leaf, and the date 1742. The book was entitled, "The Young Man'sCompanion. " It was an English work, and had passed through thirteeneditions, which was little enough in view of its varied and extensiveinformation. It was written by W. Mather, in a plain and easy style, and treated of arithmetic, surveying, forms for legal documents, themeasuring of land and lumber, gardening, and many other useful topics, and it contained general precepts which, with the aid of Hale's"Contemplations, " may readily have furnished the hints for the rulesfound in manuscript among Washington's papers. [1] These rules were inthe main wise and sensible, and it is evident they had occupied deeplythe boy's mind. [2] They are for the most part concerned with thecommonplaces of etiquette and good manners, but there is something notonly apt but quite prophetic in the last one, "Labor to keep alive inyour breast that little spark of celestial fire called conscience. " Tosuppose that Washington's character was formed by these sententiousbits of not very profound wisdom would be absurd; but that a series ofrules which most lads would have regarded as simply dull should havebeen written out and pondered by this boy indicates a soberness andthoughtfulness of mind which certainly are not usual at that age. The chief thought that runs through all the sayings is to practiceself-control, and no man ever displayed that most difficult of virtuesto such a degree as George Washington. It was no ordinary boy who tooksuch a lesson as this to heart before he was fifteen, and carried itinto his daily life, never to be forgotten. It may also be said thatvery few boys ever needed it more; but those persons who know whatthey chiefly need, and pursue it, are by no means common. 

[Footnote 1: An account of this volume was given in the _New YorkTribune_ in 1866, and also in the _Historical Magazine_ (x. 47). ]

[Footnote 2: The most important are given in Sparks' _Writings ofWashington_, ii. 412, and they may be found complete in the littlepamphlet concerning them, excellently edited by Dr. J. M. Toner, ofWashington. ]

CHAPTER III

ON THE FRONTIER

While Washington was working his way through the learning purveyedby Mr. Williams, he was also receiving another education, of a muchbroader and better sort, from the men and women among whom he foundhimself, and with whom he made friends. Chief among them was hiseldest brother, Lawrence, fourteen years his senior, who had beeneducated in England, had fought with Vernon at Carthagena, and hadthen returned to Virginia, to be to him a generous father and a lovingfriend. As the head of the family, Lawrence Washington had receivedthe lion's share of the property, including the estate at HuntingCreek, on the Potomac, which he christened Mount Vernon, after hisadmiral, and where he settled down and built him a goodly house. Tothis pleasant spot George Washington journeyed often in vacationtime, and there he came to live and further pursue his studies, afterleaving school in the autumn of 1747. 

Lawrence Washington had married the daughter of William Fairfax, theproprietor of Belvoir, a neighboring plantation, and the agent forthe vast estates held by his family in Virginia. George Fairfax, Mrs. Washington's brother, had married a Miss Gary, and thus two large andagreeable family connections were thrown open to the young surveyorwhen he emerged from school. The chief figure, however, in thatpleasant winter of 1747-48, so far as an influence upon the characterof Washington is concerned, was the head of the family into whichLawrence Washington had married. Thomas, Lord Fairfax, then sixtyyears of age, had come to Virginia to live upon and look after thekingdom which he had inherited in the wilderness. He came of a nobleand distinguished race. Graduating at Oxford with credit, he served inthe army, dabbled in literature, had his fling in the London world, and was jilted by a beauty who preferred a duke, and gave her faithfulbut less titled lover an apparently incurable wound. His life havingbeen thus early twisted and set awry, Lord Fairfax, when well past hisprime, had determined finally to come to Virginia, bury himself in theforests, and look after the almost limitless possessions beyond theBlue Ridge, which he had inherited from his maternal grandfather, LordCulpeper, of unsavory Restoration memory. It was a piece of greatgood-fortune which threw in Washington's path this accomplishedgentleman, familiar with courts and camps, disappointed, but notmorose, disillusioned, but still kindly and generous. From him the boycould gain that knowledge of men and manners which no school can give, and which is as important in its way as any that a teacher can impart. 

Lord Fairfax and Washington became fast friends. They hunted the foxtogether, and hunted him hard. They engaged in all the rough sportsand perilous excitements which Virginia winter life could afford, andthe boy's bold and skillful riding, his love of sports and his finetemper, commended him to the warm and affectionate interest of the oldnobleman. Other qualities, too, the experienced man of the world sawin his young companion: a high and persistent courage, robust and calmsense, and, above all, unusual force of will and character. Washingtonimpressed profoundly everybody with whom he was brought into personalcontact, a fact which is one of the most marked features of hischaracter and career, and one which deserves study more than almostany other. Lord Fairfax was no exception to the rule. He saw inWashington not simply a promising, brave, open-hearted boy, diligentin practicing his profession, and whom he was anxious to help, butsomething more; something which so impressed him that he confided tothis lad a task which, according to its performance, would affect bothhis fortune and his peace. In a word, he trusted Washington, and toldhim, as the spring of 1748 was opening, to go forth and survey thevast Fairfax estates beyond the Ridge, define their boundaries, andsave them from future litigation. With this commission from LordFairfax, Washington entered on the first period of his career. Hepassed it on the frontier, fighting nature, the Indians, and theFrench. He went in a schoolboy; he came out the first soldier in thecolonies, and one of the leading men of Virginia. Let us pause amoment and look at him as he stands on the threshold of this momentousperiod, rightly called momentous because it was the formative periodin the life of such a man. 

[Illustration: LAWRENCE WASHINGTON]

He had just passed his sixteenth birthday. He was tall and muscular, approaching the stature of more than six feet which he afterwardsattained. He was not yet filled out to manly proportions, but wasrather spare, after the fashion of youth. He had a well-shaped, active figure, symmetrical except for the unusual length of the arms, indicating uncommon strength. His light brown hair was drawn back froma broad forehead, and grayish-blue eyes looked happily, and perhaps atrifle soberly, on the pleasant Virginia world about him. The face wasopen and manly, with a square, massive jaw, and a general expressionof calmness and strength. "Fair and florid, " big and strong, he was, take him for all in all, as fine a specimen of his race as could befound in the English colonies. 

Let us look a little closer through the keen eyes of one who studiedmany faces to good purpose. The great painter of portraits, GilbertStuart, tells us of Washington that he never saw in any man such largeeye-sockets, or such a breadth of nose and forehead between theeyes, and that he read there the evidences of the strongest passionspossible to human nature. John Bernard the actor, a good observer, too, saw in Washington's face, in 1797, the signs of an habitualconflict and mastery of passions, witnessed by the compressed mouthand deeply indented brow. The problem had been solved then; but in1748, passion and will alike slumbered, and no man could tell whichwould prevail, or whether they would work together to great purposeor go jarring on to nothingness. He rises up to us out of the past inthat early springtime a fine, handsome, athletic boy, beloved by thoseabout him, who found him a charming companion and did not guess thathe might be a terribly dangerous foe. He rises up instinct with lifeand strength, a being capable, as we know, of great things whether forgood or evil, with hot blood pulsing in his veins and beating in hisheart, with violent passions and relentless will still undeveloped;and no one in all that jolly, generous Virginian society even dimlydreamed what that development would be, or what it would mean to theworld. 

It was in March, 1748, that George Fairfax and Washington set forth ontheir adventures, and passing through Ashby's Gap in the Blue Ridge, entered the valley of Virginia. Thence they worked their way up thevalley of the Shenandoah, surveying as they went, returned and swamthe swollen Potomac, surveyed the lands about its south branch and inthe mountainous region of Frederick County, and finally reached MountVernon again on April 12. It was a rough experience for a beginner, but a wholesome one, and furnished the usual vicissitudes of frontierlife. They were wet, cold, and hungry, or warm, dry, and well fed, byturns. They slept in a tent, or the huts of the scattered settlers, and oftener still beneath the stars. They met a war party of Indians, and having plied them with liquor, watched one of their mad dancesround the camp-fire. In another place they came on a stragglingsettlement of Germans, dull, patient, and illiterate, strangely unfitfor the life of the wilderness. All these things, as well as theprogress of their work and their various resting-places, Washingtonnoted down briefly but methodically in a diary, showing in these roughnotes the first evidences of that keen observation of nature and menand of daily incidents which he developed to such good purpose inafter-life. There are no rhapsodies and no reflections in these hastyjottings, but the employments and the discomforts are all set down ina simple and matter-of-fact way, which omitted no essential thing andexcluded all that was worthless. His work, too, was well done, andLord Fairfax was so much pleased by the report that he moved acrossthe Blue Ridge, built a hunting lodge preparatory to something moresplendid which never came to pass, and laid out a noble manor, towhich he gave the name of Greenway Court. He also procured forWashington an appointment as a public surveyor, which conferredauthority on his surveys and provided him with regular work. Thusstarted, Washington toiled at his profession for three years, livingand working as he did on his first expedition. It was a rough life, but a manly and robust one, and the men who live it, although oftenrude and coarse, are never weak or effeminate. To Washington it wasan admirable school. It strengthened his muscles and hardened him toexposure and fatigue. It accustomed him to risks and perils of variouskinds, and made him fertile in expedients and confident of himself, while the nature of his work rendered him careful and industrious. That his work was well done is shown by the fact that his surveys wereconsidered of the first authority, and stand unquestioned to this day, like certain other work which he was subsequently called to do. It waspart of his character, when he did anything, to do it in a lastingfashion, and it is worth while to remember that the surveys he made asa boy were the best that could be made. 

He wrote to a friend at this time: "Since you received my letter ofOctober last, I have not slept above three or four nights in a bed, but, after walking a good deal all the day, I have lain down beforethe fire upon a little hay, straw, fodder, or a bearskin, whicheverwas to be had, with man, wife, and children, like dogs and cats; andhappy is he who gets the berth nearest the fire. Nothing would make itpass off tolerably but a good reward. A doubloon is my constant gainevery day that the weather will permit of my going out, and sometimessix pistoles. " He was evidently a thrifty lad, and honestly pleasedwith honest earnings. He was no mere adventurous wanderer, but a manworking for results in money, reputation, or some solid value, and while he worked and earned he kept an observant eye upon thewilderness, and bought up when he could the best land for himself andhis family, laying the foundations of the great landed estate of whichhe died possessed. 

There was also a lighter and pleasanter side to this hard-workingexistence, which was quite as useful, and more attractive, thantoiling in the woods and mountains. The young surveyor passed much ofhis time at Greenway Court, hunting the fox and rejoicing in all fieldsports which held high place in that kingdom, while at the same timehe profited much in graver fashion by his friendship with such a manas Lord Fairfax. There, too, he had a chance at a library, and hisdiaries show that he read carefully the history of England and theessays of the "Spectator. " Neither in early days nor at any other timewas he a student, for he had few opportunities, and his life from thebeginning was out of doors and among men. But the idea sometimes putforward that Washington cared nothing for reading or for books is anidle one. He read at Greenway Court and everywhere else when he had anopportunity. He read well, too, and to some purpose, studying men andevents in books as he did in the world, for though he never talked ofhis reading, preserving silence on that as on other things concerninghimself, no one ever was able to record an instance in which he showedhimself ignorant of history or of literature. He was never a learnedman, but so far as his own language could carry him he was an educatedone. Thus while he developed the sterner qualities by hard work and arough life, he did not bring back the coarse habits of the backwoodsand the camp-fire, but was able to refine his manners and improve hismind in the excellent society and under the hospitable roof of LordFairfax. 

Three years slipped by, and then a domestic change came which muchaffected Washington's whole life. The Carthagena campaign hadundermined the strength of Lawrence Washington and sown the seeds ofconsumption, which showed itself in 1749, and became steadily morealarming. A voyage to England and a summer at the warm springs weretried without success, and finally, as a last resort, the invalidsailed for the West Indies, in September, 1751. Thither his brotherGeorge accompanied him, and we have the fragments of a diary keptduring this first and last wandering outside his native country. Hecopied the log, noted the weather, and evidently strove to get someidea of nautical matters while he was at sea and leading a lifestrangely unfamiliar to a woodsman and pioneer. When they arrived attheir destination they were immediately asked to breakfast and dinewith Major Clarke, the military magnate of the place, and our youngVirginian remarked, with characteristic prudence and a certain touchof grim humor, "We went, --myself with some reluctance, as the smallpoxwas in the family. " He fell a victim to his good manners, for twoweeks later he was "strongly attacked with the smallpox, " and wasthen housed for a month, getting safely and successfully throughthis dangerous and then almost universal ordeal. Before the diseasedeclared itself, however, he went about everywhere, innocentlyscattering infection, and greatly enjoying the pleasures of theisland. It is to be regretted that any part of this diary should havebeen lost, for it is pleasant reading, and exhibits the writer in anagreeable and characteristic fashion. He commented on the country andthe scenery, inveighed against the extravagance of the charges forboard and lodging, told of his dinner-parties and his friends, andnoted the marvelous abundance and variety of the tropical fruits, which contrasted strangely with the British dishes of beefsteak andtripe. He also mentioned being treated to a ticket to see the play of"George Barnwell, " on which he offered this cautious criticism:"The character of Barnwell and several others were said to be wellperformed. There was music adapted and regularly conducted. "

Soon after his recovery Washington returned to Virginia, arrivingthere in February, 1752. The diary concluded with a brief butperfectly effective description of Barbadoes, touching on itsresources and scenery, its government and condition, and the mannersand customs of its inhabitants. All through these notes we find thekeenly observant spirit, and the evidence of a mind constantly alertto learn. We see also a pleasant, happy temperament, enjoying withhearty zest all the pleasures that youth and life could furnish. Hewho wrote these lines was evidently a vigorous, good-humored youngfellow, with a quick eye for the world opening before him, and for thedelights as well as the instruction which it offered. 

From the sunshine and ease of this tropical winter Washington passedto a long season of trial and responsibility at home and abroad. InJuly, 1752, his much-loved brother Lawrence died, leaving Georgeguardian of his daughter, and heir to his estates in the event ofthat daughter's death. Thus the current of his home life changed, andresponsibility came into it, while outside the mighty stream of publicevents changed too, and swept him along in the swelling torrent of aworld-wide war. 

In all the vast wilderness beyond the mountains there was not room forboth French and English. The rival nations had been for years slowlyapproaching each other, until in 1749 each people proceeded at last totake possession of the Ohio country after its own fashion. The Frenchsent a military expedition which sank and nailed up leaden plates; theEnglish formed a great land company to speculate and make money, andboth set diligently to work to form Indian alliances. A man of farless perception than Lawrence Washington, who had become the chiefmanager of the Ohio Company, would have seen that the conditions onthe frontier rendered war inevitable, and he accordingly made readyfor the future by preparing his brother for the career of a soldier, so far as it could be done. He brought to Mount Vernon two oldcompanions-in-arms of the Carthagena time, Adjutant Muse, a Virginian, and Jacob Van Braam, a Dutch soldier of fortune. The former instructedWashington in the art of war, tactics, and the manual of arms, thelatter in fencing and the sword exercise. At the same time LawrenceWashington procured for his brother, then only nineteen years of age, an appointment as one of the adjutants-general of Virginia, with therank of major. To all this the young surveyor took kindly enough sofar as we can tell, but his military avocations were interrupted byhis voyage to Barbadoes, by the illness and death of his brother, andby the cares and responsibilities thereby thrust upon him. 

Meantime the French aggressions had continued, and French soldiers andtraders were working their way up from the South and down from theNorth, bullying and cajoling the Indians by turns, taking possessionof the Ohio country, and selecting places as they went for thatchain of forts which was to hem in and slowly strangle the Englishsettlements. Governor Dinwiddie had sent a commissioner to remonstrateagainst these encroachments, but his envoy had stopped a hundredand fifty miles short of the French posts, alarmed by the troublouscondition of things, and by the defeat and slaughter which theFrenchmen had already inflicted upon the Indians. Some more vigorousperson was evidently needed to go through the form of warning Francenot to trespass on the English wilderness, and thereupon GovernorDinwiddie selected for the task George Washington, recentlyreappointed adjutant-general of the northern division, and major inthe Virginian forces. He was a young man for such an undertaking, notyet twenty-two, but clearly of good reputation. It is plain enoughthat Lord Fairfax and others had said to the governor, "Here is thevery man for you; young, daring, and adventurous, but yet sober-mindedand responsible, who only lacks opportunity to show the stuff that isin him. "

Thus, then, in October, 1753, Washington set forth with Van Braam, andvarious servants and horses, accompanied by the boldest of Virginianfrontiersmen, Christopher Gist. He wrote a report in the form of ajournal, which was sent to England and much read at the time as partof the news of the day, and which has an equal although differentinterest now. It is a succinct, clear, and sober narrative. The littleparty was formed at Will's Creek, and thence through woods and overswollen rivers made its way to Logstown. Here they spent some daysamong the Indians, whose leaders Washington got within his grasp aftermuch speech-making; and here, too, he met some French deserters fromthe South, and drew from them all the knowledge they possessed of NewOrleans and the military expeditions from that region. From Logstownhe pushed on, accompanied by his Indian chiefs, to Venango, on theOhio, the first French outpost. The French officers asked him to supwith them. The wine flowed freely, the tongues of the hosts wereloosened, and the young Virginian, temperate and hard-headed, listenedto all the conversation, and noted down mentally much that wasinteresting and valuable. The next morning the Indian chiefs, prudently kept in the background, appeared, and a struggle ensuedbetween the talkative, clever Frenchmen and the quiet, persistentVirginian, over the possession of these important savages. FinallyWashington got off, carrying his chiefs with him, and made his wayseventy miles further to the fort on French Creek. Here he deliveredthe governor's letter, and while M. De St. Pierre wrote a vague andpolite answer, he sketched the fort and informed himself in regard tothe military condition of the post. Then came another struggle overthe Indians, and finally Washington got off with them once more, andworked his way back to Venango. Another struggle for the savagesfollowed, rum being always the principal factor in the negotiation, and at last the chiefs determined to stay behind. Nevertheless, thework had been well done, and the important Half-King remained true tothe English cause. 

Leaving his horses, Washington and Gist then took to the woods onfoot. The French Indians lay in wait for them and tried to murderthem, and Gist, like a true frontiersman, was for shooting thescoundrel whom they captured. But Washington stayed his hand, andthey gave the savage the slip and pressed on. It was the middle ofDecember, very cold and stormy. In crossing a river, Washington fellfrom the raft into deep water, amid the floating ice, but fought hisway out, and he and his companion passed the night on an island, withtheir clothes frozen upon them. So through peril and privation, andvarious dangers, stopping in the midst of it all to win another savagepotentate, they reached the edge of the settlements and thence wenton to Williamsburg, where great praise and glory were awarded to theyouthful envoy, the hero of the hour in the little Virginia capital. 

It is worth while to pause over this expedition a moment and toconsider attentively this journal which recounts it, for there arevery few incidents or documents which tell us more of Washington. Hewas not yet twenty-two when he faced this first grave responsibility, and he did his work absolutely well. Cool courage, of course, heshowed, but also patience and wisdom in handling the Indians, a clearsense that the crafty and well-trained Frenchmen could not blind, anda strong faculty for dealing with men, always a rare and preciousgift. As in the little Barbadoes diary, so also in this journal, we see, and far more strongly, the penetration and perception thatnothing could escape, and which set down all things essential and letthe "huddling silver, little worth, " go by. The clearness, terseness, and entire sufficiency of the narrative are obvious and lie on thesurface; but we find also another quality of the man which is one ofthe most marked features in his character, and one which we must dwellupon again and again, as we follow the story of his life. Here itis that we learn directly for the first time that Washington was aprofoundly silent man. The gospel of silence has been preached inthese latter days by Carlyle, with the fervor of a seer and prophet, and the world owes him a debt for the historical discredit which hehas brought upon the man of mere words as compared with the man ofdeeds. Carlyle brushed Washington aside as "a bloodless Cromwell, " aphrase to which we must revert later on other grounds, and, ashas already been said, failed utterly to see that he was the mostsupremely silent of the great men of action that the world can show. Like Cromwell and Frederic, Washington wrote countless letters, mademany speeches, and was agreeable in conversation. But this was all inthe way of business, and a man may be profoundly silent and yet talk agreat deal. Silence in the fine and true sense is neither mere holdingof the tongue nor an incapacity of expression. The greatly silent manis he who is not given to words for their own sake, and who nevertalks about himself. Both Cromwell, greatest of Englishmen, and thegreat Frederic, Carlyle's especial heroes, were fond of talking ofthemselves. So in still larger measure was Napoleon, and many othersof less importance. But Washington differs from them all. He hadabundant power of words, and could use them with much force and pointwhen he was so minded, but he never used them needlessly or to hidehis meaning, and he never talked about himself. Hence the inestimabledifficulty of knowing him. A brief sentence here and there, a raregleam of light across the page of a letter, is all that we can find. The rest is silence. He did as great work as has fallen to the lot ofman, he wrote volumes of correspondence, he talked with innumerablemen and women, and of himself he said nothing. Here in this youthfuljournal we have a narrative of wild adventure, wily diplomacy, andpersonal peril, impossible of condensation, and yet not a word of thewriter's thoughts or feelings. All that was done or said important tothe business in hand was set down, and nothing was overlooked, butthat is all. The work was done, and we know how it was done, but theman is silent as to all else. Here, indeed, is the man of action andof real silence, a character to be much admired and wondered at inthese or any other days. 

Washington's report looked like war, and its author was shortlyafterwards appointed lieutenant-colonel of a Virginian regiment, Colonel Fry commanding. Now began that long experience of humanstupidity and inefficiency with which Washington was destined tostruggle through all the years of his military career, suffering fromthem, and triumphing in spite of them to a degree unequaled by anyother great commander. Dinwiddie, the Scotch governor, was eagerenough to fight, and full of energy and good intentions, but he washasty and not overwise, and was filled with an excessive idea of hisprerogatives. The assembly, on its side, was sufficiently patriotic, but its members came from a community which for more than half acentury had had no fighting, and they knew nothing of war or itsnecessities. Unaccustomed to the large affairs into which they weresuddenly plunged, they displayed a narrow and provincial spirit. Keenly alive to their own rights and privileges, they were moreoccupied in quarreling with Dinwiddie than in prosecuting the war. Inthe weak proprietary governments of Maryland and Pennsylvania therewas the same condition of affairs, with every evil exaggeratedtenfold. The fighting spirit was dominant in Virginia, but inQuaker-ridden Pennsylvania it seems to have been almost extinct. Thesethree were not very promising communities to look to for support in adifficult and costly war. 

With all this inertia and stupidity Washington was called to cope, andhe rebelled against it in vigorous fashion. Leaving Colonel Fry tofollow with the main body of troops, Washington set out on April 2, 1754, with two companies from Alexandria, where he had been recruitingamidst most irritating difficulties. He reached Will's Creek threeweeks later; and then his real troubles began. Captain Trent, thetimid and halting envoy, who had failed to reach the French, had beensent out by the wise authorities to build a fort at the junction ofthe Alleghany and Monongahela, on the admirable site selected by thekeen eye of Washington. There Trent left his men and returned toWill's Creek, where Washington found him, but without the pack-horsesthat he had promised to provide. Presently news came that the Frenchin overwhelming numbers had swept down upon Trent's little party, captured their fort, and sent them packing back to Virginia. Washington took this to be war, and determined at once to marchagainst the enemy. Having impressed from the inhabitants, who were notbubbling over with patriotism, some horses and wagons, he set out onhis toilsome march across the mountains. 

It was a wild and desolate region, and progress was extremely slow. By May 9 he was at the Little Meadows, twenty miles from hisstarting-place; by the 18th at the Youghiogany River, which heexplored and found unnavigable. He was therefore forced to take up hisweary march again for the Monongahela, and by the 27th he was at theGreat Meadows, a few miles further on. The extreme danger of hisposition does not seem to have occurred to him, but he was harassedand angered by the conduct of the assembly. He wrote to GovernorDinwiddie that he had no idea of giving up his commission. "But, " hecontinued, "let me serve voluntarily; then I will, with the greatestpleasure in life, devote my services to the expedition, without anyother reward than the satisfaction of serving my country; but to beslaving dangerously for the shadow of pay, through woods, rocks, mountains, --I would rather prefer the great toil of a daily laborer, and dig for a maintenance, provided I were reduced to the necessity, than serve upon such ignoble terms; for I really do not see why thelives of his Majesty's subjects in Virginia should be of less valuethan those in other parts of his American dominions, especially whenit is well known that we must undergo double their hardship. " Here wehave a high-spirited, high-tempered young gentleman, with a contemptfor shams that it is pleasant to see, and evidently endowed also witha fine taste for fighting and not too much patience. 

Indignant letters written in vigorous language were, however, oflittle avail, and Washington prepared to shift for himself as best hemight. His Indian allies brought him news that the French were on themarch and had thrown out scouting parties. Picking out a place in theGreat Meadows for a fort, "a charming field for an encounter, " he inhis turn sent out a scouting party, and then on fresh intelligencefrom the Indians set forth himself with forty men to find the enemy. After a toilsome march they discovered their foes in camp. The French, surprised and surrounded, sprang to arms, the Virginians fired, therewas a sharp exchange of shots, and all was over. Ten of the Frenchwere killed and twenty-one were taken prisoners, only one of the partyescaping to carry back the news. 

This little skirmish made a prodigious noise in its day, and was muchheralded in France. The French declared that Jumonville, the leader, who fell at the first fire, was foully assassinated, and that he andhis party were ambassadors and sacred characters. Paris rang with thisfresh instance of British perfidy, and a M. Thomas celebrated theluckless Jumonville in a solemn epic poem in four books. Frenchhistorians, relying on the account of the Canadian who escaped, adopted the same tone, and at a later day mourned over this blackspot on Washington's character. The French view was simple nonsense. Jumonville and his party, as the papers found on Jumonville showed, were out on a spying and scouting expedition. They were seeking tosurprise the English when the English surprised them, with the usualbackwoods result. The affair has a dramatic interest because it wasthe first blood shed in a great struggle, and was the beginning of aseries of world-wide wars and social and political convulsions, whichterminated more than half a century later on the plains of Waterloo. It gave immortality to an obscure French officer by linking his namewith that of his opponent, and brought Washington for the momentbefore the eyes of the world, which little dreamed that this Virginiancolonel was destined to be one of the principal figures in the greatrevolutionary drama to which the war then beginning was but theprologue. 

Washington, for his part, well satisfied with his exploit, retracedhis steps, and having sent his prisoners back to Virginia, proceededto consider his situation. It was not a very cheerful prospect. Contrecoeur, with the main body of the French and Indians, was movingdown from the Monongahela a thousand strong. This of course was tohave been anticipated, and it does not seem to have in the leastdamped Washington's spirits. His blood was up, his fighting temperthoroughly roused, and he prepared to push on. Colonel Fry had diedmeanwhile, leaving Washington in command; but his troops came forward, and also not long after a useless "independent" company from SouthCarolina. Thus reinforced Washington advanced painfully some thirteenmiles, and then receiving sure intelligence of the approach of theFrench in great force fell back with difficulty to the Great Meadows, where he was obliged by the exhausted condition of his men to stop. Heat once resumed work on Fort Necessity, and made ready for a desperatedefense, for the French were on his heels, and on July 3 appeared atthe Meadows. Washington offered battle outside the fort, and thisbeing declined withdrew to his trenches, and skirmishing went on allday. When night fell it was apparent that the end had come. The menwere starved and worn out. Their muskets in many cases were rendereduseless by the rain, and their ammunition was spent. The Indians haddeserted, and the foe outnumbered them four to one. When the Frenchtherefore offered a parley, Washington was forced reluctantly toaccept. The French had no stomach for the fight, apparently, andallowed the English to go with their arms, exacting nothing but apledge that for a year they would not come to the Ohio. 

So ended Washington's first campaign. His friend the Half-King, thecelebrated Seneca chief, Thanacarishon, who prudently departed on thearrival of the French, has left us a candid opinion of Washington andhis opponents. "The colonel, " he said, "was a good-natured man, buthad no experience; he took upon him to command the Indians as hisslaves, and would have them every day upon the scout and to attackthe enemy by themselves, but would by no means take advice from theIndians. He lay in one place from one full moon to the other, withoutmaking any fortifications, except that little thing on the meadow;whereas, had he taken advice, and built such fortifications as Iadvised him, he might easily have beat off the French. But the Frenchin the engagement acted like cowards, and the English like fools. "[1]

[Footnote 1: _Enquiry into the Causes and Alienations of the Delawareand Shawanee Indians_, etc. London, 1759. By Charles Thomson, afterwards Secretary of Congress. ]

There is a deal of truth in this opinion. The whole expedition wasrash in the extreme. When Washington left Will's Creek he was awarethat he was going to meet a force of a thousand men with only ahundred and fifty raw recruits at his back. In the same spirit hepushed on; and after the Jumonville affair, although he knew that thewilderness about him was swarming with enemies, he still struggledforward. When forced to retreat he made a stand at the Meadows andoffered battle in the open to his more numerous and more prudentfoes, for he was one of those men who by nature regard courage as asubstitute for everything, and who have a contempt for hostile odds. He was ready to meet any number of French and Indians with cheerfulconfidence and with real pleasure. He wrote, in a letter whichsoon became famous, that he loved to hear bullets whistle, a sageobservation which he set down in later years as a folly of youth. Yetthis boyish outburst, foolish as it was, has a meaning to us, for itwas essentially true. Washington had the fierce fighting temper of theNorthmen. He loved battle and danger, and he never ceased to love themand to give way to their excitement, although he did not again setdown such sentiments in boastful phrase that made the world laugh. Men of such temper, moreover, are naturally imperious and have a finedisregard of consequences, with the result that their allies, Indianor otherwise, often become impatient and finally useless. The campaignwas perfectly wild from the outset, and if it had not been forthe utter indifference to danger displayed by Washington, and theconsequent timidity of the French, that particular body of Virginianswould have been permanently lost to the British Empire. 

But we learn from all this many things. It appears that Washington wasnot merely a brave man, but one who loved fighting for its own sake. The whole expedition shows an arbitrary temper and the most recklesscourage, valuable qualities, but here unrestrained, and mixedwith very little prudence. Some important lessons were learned byWashington from the rough teachings of inexorable and unconquerablefacts. He received in this campaign the first taste of that severeexperience which by its training developed the self-control andmastery of temper for which he became so remarkable. He did not springinto life a perfect and impossible man, as is so often represented. Onthe contrary, he was educated by circumstances; but the metal came outof the furnace of experience finely tempered, because it was by natureof the best and with but little dross to be purged away. In additionto all this he acquired for the moment what would now be called aEuropean reputation. He was known in Paris as an assassin, and inEngland, thanks to the bullet letter, as a "fanfaron" and bravebraggart. With these results he wended his way home much depressed inspirits, but not in the least discouraged, and fonder of fighting thanever. 

Virginia, however, took a kinder view of the campaign than did herdefeated soldier. She appreciated the gallantry of the offer to fightin the open and the general conduct of the troops, and her House ofBurgesses passed a vote of thanks to Washington and his officers, andgave money to his men. In August he rejoined his regiment, only torenew the vain struggle against incompetence and extravagance, and asif this were not enough, his sense of honor was wounded and his tempermuch irritated by the governor's playing false to the prisoners takenin the Jumonville fight. While thus engaged, news came that the Frenchwere off their guard at Fort Duquesne, and Dinwiddie was for havingthe regiment of undisciplined troops march again into the wilderness. Washington, however, had learned something, if not a great deal, andhe demonstrated the folly of such an attempt in a manner too clear tobe confuted. 

Meantime the Burgesses came together, and more money being voted, Dinwiddie hit on a notable plan for quieting dissensions betweenregulars and provincials by dividing all the troops into independentcompanies, with no officer higher than a captain. Washington, theonly officer who had seen fighting and led a regiment, resented quiteproperly this senseless policy, and resigning his commission withdrewto Mount Vernon to manage the estate and attend to his own affairs. Hewas driven to this course still more strongly by the original cause ofDinwiddie's arrangement. The English government had issued an orderthat officers holding the king's commission should rank provincialofficers, and that provincial generals and field officers should haveno rank when a general or field officer holding a royal commission waspresent. The degradation of being ranked by every whipper-snapper whomight hold a royal commission by virtue, perhaps, of being the bastardson of some nobleman's cast-off mistress was more than the temperof George Washington at least could bear, and when Governor Sharpe, general by the king's commission, and eager to secure the servicesof the best fighter in Virginia, offered him a company and urged hisacceptance, he replied in language that must have somewhat astonishedhis excellency. "You make mention in your letter, " he wrote to ColonelFitzhugh, Governor Sharpe's second in command, "of my continuing inthe service, and retaining my colonel's commission. This idea hasfilled me with surprise; for, if you think me capable of holding acommission that has neither rank nor emolument annexed to it, you mustentertain a very contemptible opinion of my weakness, and believeme to be more empty than the commission itself. .. . In short, everycaptain bearing the king's commission, every half-pay officer, orothers, appearing with such a commission, would rank before me. .. . Yetmy inclinations are strongly bent to arms. "

It was a bitter disappointment to withdraw from military life, butWashington had an intense sense of personal dignity; not the smallvanity of a petty mind, but the quality of a proud man conscious ofhis own strength and purpose. It was of immense value to the Americanpeople at a later day, and there is something very instructive in thisearly revolt against the stupid arrogance which England has alwaysthought it wise to display toward this country. She has paid dearlyfor indulging it, but it has seldom cost her more than when it droveWashington from her service, and left in his mind a sense of indignityand injustice. 

Meantime this Virginian campaigning had started a great movement. England was aroused, and it was determined to assail France in NovaScotia, from New York and on the Ohio. In accordance with this planGeneral Braddock arrived in Virginia February 20, 1755, with twopicked regiments, and encamped at Alexandria. Thither Washington usedto ride and look longingly at the pomp and glitter, and wish that hewore engaged in the service. Presently this desire became known, andBraddock, hearing of the young Virginian's past experience, offeredhim a place on his staff with the rank of colonel where he wouldbe subject only to the orders of the general, and could serve as avolunteer. He therefore accepted at once, and threw himself intohis new duties with hearty good-will. Every step now was full ofinstruction. At Annapolis he met the governors of the othercolonies, and was interested and attracted by this association withdistinguished public men. In the army to which he was attached hestudied with the deepest attention the best discipline of Europe, observing everything and forgetting nothing, thus preparing himselfunconsciously to use against his teachers the knowledge he acquired. 

He also made warm friends with the English officers, and was treatedwith consideration by his commander. The universal practice of allEnglishmen at that time was to behave contemptuously to the colonists, but there was something about Washington which made this impossible. They all treated him with the utmost courtesy, vaguely conscious thatbeneath the pleasant, quiet manner there was a strength of characterand ability such as is rarely found, and that this was a man whom itwas unsafe to affront. There is no stronger instance of Washington'spower of impressing himself upon others than that he commanded nowthe respect and affection of his general, who was the last man to beeasily or favorably affected by a young provincial officer. 

Edward Braddock was a veteran soldier, a skilled disciplinarian, and arigid martinet. He was narrow-minded, brutal, and brave. He had led afast life in society, indulging in coarse and violent dissipations, and was proud with the intense pride of a limited intelligence and anature incapable of physical fear. It would be difficult to conceiveof a man more unfit to be entrusted with the task of marching throughthe wilderness and sweeping the French from the Ohio. All theconditions which confronted him were unfamiliar and beyond hisexperience. He cordially despised the provincials who were essentialto his success, and lost no opportunity of showing his contempt forthem. The colonists on their side, especially in Pennsylvania, gavehim, unfortunately, only too much ground for irritation and disgust. They were delighted to see this brilliant force come from England tofight their battles, but they kept on wrangling and holding back, refusing money and supplies, and doing nothing. Braddock chafed anddelayed, swore angrily, and lingered still. Washington strove to helphim, but defended his country fearlessly against wholesale and furiousattacks. 

Finally the army began to move, but so slowly and after so much delaythat they did not reach Will's Creek until the middle of May. Herecame another exasperating pause, relieved only by Franklin, who, by giving his own time, ability, and money, supplied the necessarywagons. Then they pushed on again, but with the utmost slowness. Withsupreme difficulty they made an elaborate road over the mountains asthey marched, and did not reach the Little Meadows until June 16. Thenat last Braddock turned to his young aide for the counsel which hadalready been proffered and rejected many times. Washington advised thedivision of the army, so that the main body could hurry forward inlight marching order while a detachment remained behind and broughtup the heavy baggage. This plan was adopted, and the army startedforward, still too heavily burdened, as Washington thought, but insomewhat better trim for the wilderness than before. Their progress, quickened as it was, still seemed slow to Washington, but he was takenill with a fever, and finally was compelled by Braddock to stop forrest at the ford of Youghiogany. He made Braddock promise that heshould be brought up before the army reached Fort Duquesne, and wroteto his friend Orme that he would not miss the impending battle forfive hundred pounds. 

As soon as his fever abated a little he left Colonel Dunbar, and, being unable to sit on a horse, was conveyed to the front in a wagon, coming up with the army on July 8. He was just in time, for the nextday the troops forded the Monongahela and marched to attack the fort. The splendid appearance of the soldiers as they crossed the riverroused Washington's enthusiasm; but he was not without misgivings. Franklin had already warned Braddock against the danger of surprise, and had been told with a sneer that while these savages might bea formidable enemy to raw American militia, they could make noimpression on disciplined troops. Now at the last moment Washingtonwarned the general again and was angrily rebuked. 

The troops marched on in ordered ranks, glittering and beautiful. Suddenly firing was heard in the front, and presently the van wasflung back on the main body. Yells and war-whoops resounded on everyside, and an unseen enemy poured in a deadly fire. Washington beggedBraddock to throw his men into the woods, but all in vain. Fight inplatoons they must, or not at all. The result was that they did notfight at all. They became panic-stricken, and huddled together, overcome with fear, until at last when Braddock was mortally woundedthey broke in wild rout and fled. Of the regular troops, sevenhundred, and of the officers, who showed the utmost bravery, sixty-twoout of eighty-six, were killed or wounded. Two hundred Frenchmen andsix hundred Indians achieved this signal victory. The only thingthat could be called fighting on the English side was done bythe Virginians, "the raw American militia, " who, spread out asskirmishers, met their foes on their own ground, and were cut offafter a desperate resistance almost to a man. 

Washington at the outset flung himself headlong into the fight. Herode up and down the field, carrying orders and striving to rally "thedastards, " as he afterwards called the regular troops. He endeavoredto bring up the artillery, but the men would not serve the guns, although to set an example he aimed and discharged one himself. Allthrough that dreadful carnage he rode fiercely about, raging with theexcitement of battle, and utterly exposed from beginning to end. Evennow it makes the heart beat quicker to think of him amid the smoke andslaughter as he dashed hither and thither, his face glowing and hiseyes shining with the fierce light of battle, leading on his ownVirginians, and trying to stay the tide of disaster. He had two horsesshot under him and four bullets through his coat. The Indians thoughthe bore a charmed life, while his death was reported in the colonies, together with his dying speech, which, he dryly wrote to his brother, he had not yet composed. 

When the troops broke it was Washington who gathered the fugitives andbrought off the dying general. It was he who rode on to meet Dunbar, and rallying the fugitives enabled the wretched remnants to take uptheir march for the settlements. He it was who laid Braddock in thegrave four days after the defeat, and read over the dead the solemnwords of the English service. Wise, sensible, and active in theadvance, splendidly reckless on the day of battle, cool and collectedon the retreat, Washington alone emerged from that history of disasterwith added glory. Again he comes before us as, above all things, the fighting man, hot-blooded and fierce in action, and utterlyindifferent to the danger which excited and delighted him. But theearlier lesson had not been useless. He now showed a prudence andwisdom in counsel which were not apparent in the first of hiscampaigns, and he no longer thought that mere courage wasall-sufficient, or that any enemy could be despised. He was plainlyone of those who could learn. His first experience had borne goodfruit, and now he had been taught a series of fresh and valuablelessons. Before his eyes had been displayed the most brilliantEuropean discipline, both in camp and on the march. He had studiedand absorbed it all, talking with veterans and hearing from them manythings that he could have acquired nowhere else. Once more had hebeen taught, in a way not to be forgotten, that it is never well tounderrate one's opponent. He had looked deeper, too, and had seen whatthe whole continent soon understood, that English troops were notinvincible, that they could be beaten by Indians, and that they wereafter all much like other men. This was the knowledge, fatal inafter days to British supremacy, which Braddock's defeat brought toWashington and to the colonists, and which was never forgotten. Couldhe have looked into the future, he would have seen also in thisill-fated expedition an epitome of much future history. The expeditionbegan with stupid contempt toward America and all things American, andended in ruin and defeat. It was a bitter experience, much heeded bythe colonists, but disregarded by England, whose indifference was paidfor at a heavy cost. 

After the hasty retreat, Colonel Dunbar, stricken with panic, fledonward to Philadelphia, abandoning everything, and Virginia was leftnaturally in a state of great alarm. The assembly came together, andat last, thoroughly frightened, voted abundant money, and ordered aregiment of a thousand men to be raised. Washington, who had returnedto Mount Vernon ill and worn-out, was urged to solicit the command, but it was not his way to solicit, and he declined to do so now. August 14, he wrote to his mother: "If it is in my power to avoidgoing to the Ohio again, I shall; but if the command is pressed uponme by the general voice of the country, and offered upon such terms ascannot be objected against, it would reflect dishonor on me to refuseit. " The same day he was offered the command of all the Virginianforces on his own terms, and accepted. Virginia believed inWashington, and he was ready to obey her call. 

He at once assumed command and betook himself to Winchester, a generalwithout an army, but still able to check by his presence the existingpanic, and ready to enter upon the trying, dreary, and fruitless workthat lay before him. In April, 1757, he wrote: "I have been postedthen, for more than twenty months past, upon our cold and barrenfrontiers, to perform, I think I may say, impossibilities; that is, toprotect from the cruel incursions of a crafty, savage enemy a line ofinhabitants, of more than three hundred and fifty miles in extent, with a force inadequate to the task. " This terse statement coversall that can be said of the next three years. It was a long struggleagainst a savage foe in front, and narrowness, jealousy, and stupiditybehind; apparently without any chance of effecting anything, orgaining any glory or reward. Troops were voted, but were raised withdifficulty, and when raised were neglected and ill-treated by thewrangling governor and assembly, which caused much ill-suppressedwrath in the breast of the commander-in-chief, who labored day andnight to bring about better discipline in camp, and who wrote longletters to Williamsburg recounting existing evils and praying for anew militia law. 

The troops, in fact, were got out with vast difficulty even under themost stinging necessity, and were almost worthless when they came. Of one "noble captain" who refused to come, Washington wrote: "Withcoolness and moderation this great captain answered that his wife, family, and corn were all at stake; so were those of his soldiers;therefore it was impossible for him to come. Such is the exampleof the officers; such the behavior of the men; and upon suchcircumstances depends the safety of our country!" But while thesoldiers were neglected, and the assembly faltered, and the militiadisobeyed, the French and Indians kept at work on the long, exposedfrontier. There panic reigned, farmhouses and villages went up insmoke, and the fields were reddened with slaughter at each freshincursion. Gentlemen in Williamsburg bore these misfortunes withreasonable fortitude, but Washington raged against the abuses and theinaction, and vowed that nothing but the imminent danger prevented hisresignation. "The supplicating tears of the women, " he wrote, "andmoving petitions of the men melt me into such deadly sorrow thatI solemnly declare, if I know my own mind, I could offer myselfa willing sacrifice to the butchering enemy, provided that wouldcontribute to the people's ease. " This is one of the rare flashesof personal feeling which disclose the real man, warm of heart andtemper, full of human sympathy, and giving vent to hot indignation inwords which still ring clear and strong across the century that hascome and gone. 

Serious troubles, moreover, were complicated by petty annoyances. AMaryland captain, at the head of thirty men, undertook to claim rankover the Virginian commander-in-chief because he had held a king'scommission; and Washington was obliged to travel to Boston in order tohave the miserable thing set right by Governor Shirley. This affairsettled, he returned to take up again the old disheartening struggle, and his outspoken condemnation of Dinwiddie's foolish schemes and ofthe shortcomings of the government began to raise up backbitersand malcontents at Williamsburg. "My orders, " he said, "are dark, doubtful, and uncertain; to-day approved, to-morrow condemned. Leftto act and proceed at hazard, accountable for the consequences, andblamed without the benefit of defense. " He determined neverthelessto bear with his trials until the arrival of Lord Loudon, the newcommander-in-chief, from whom he expected vigor and improvement. Unfortunately he was destined to have only fresh disappointment fromthe new general, for Lord Loudon was merely one more incompetent manadded to the existing confusion. He paid no heed to the South, matterscontinued to go badly in the North, and Virginia was left helpless. SoWashington toiled on with much discouragement, and the disagreeableattacks upon him increased. That it should have been so is notsurprising, for he wrote to the governor, who now held him in muchdisfavor, to the speaker, and indeed to every one, with a most gallingplainness. He was only twenty-five, be it remembered, and his hightemper was by no means under perfect control. He was anything butdiplomatic at that period of his life, and was far from patient, usinglanguage with much sincerity and force, and indulging in a blunt ironyof rather a ferocious kind. When he was accused finally of getting upreports of imaginary dangers, his temper gave way entirely. He wrotewrathfully to the governor for justice, and added in a letter tohis friend, Captain Peachey: "As to Colonel C. 's gross and infamousreflections on my conduct last spring, it will be needless, I daresay, to observe further at this time than that the liberty which hehas been pleased to allow himself in sporting with my character islittle else than a comic entertainment, discovering at one view hispassionate fondness for your friend, his inviolable love of truth, his unfathomable knowledge, and the masterly strokes of his wisdom indisplaying it. You are heartily welcome to make use of any letter orletters which I may at any time have written to you; for althoughI keep no copies of epistles to my friends, nor can remember thecontents of all of them, yet I am sensible that the narrations arejust, and that truth and honesty will appear in my writings; of which, therefore, I shall not be ashamed, though criticism may censure mystyle. "

Perhaps a little more patience would have produced better results, but it is pleasant to find one man, in that period of stupidity andincompetency, who was ready to free his mind in this refreshing way. The only wonder is that he was not driven from his command. That theyinsisted on keeping him there shows beyond everything that hehad already impressed himself so strongly on Virginia that theauthorities, although they smarted under his attacks, did not dare tomeddle with him. Dinwiddie and the rest could foil him in obtaining acommission in the king's army, but they could not shake his hold uponthe people. 

In the winter of 1758 his health broke down completely. He was soill that he thought that his constitution was seriously injured;and therefore withdrew to Mount Vernon, where he slowly recovered. Meantime a great man came at last to the head of affairs in England, and inspired by William Pitt, fleets and armies went forth to conquer. Reviving at the prospect, Washington offered his services to GeneralForbes, who had come to undertake the task which Braddock had failedto accomplish. Once more English troops appeared, and a large armywas gathered. Then the old story began again, and Washington, whoseproffered aid had been gladly received, chafed and worried all summerat the fresh spectacle of delay and stupidity which was presentedto him. His advice was disregarded, and all the weary business ofbuilding new roads through the wilderness was once more undertaken. Adetachment, sent forward contrary to his views, met with the fate ofBraddock, and as the summer passed, and autumn changed to winter, itlooked as if nothing would be gained in return for so much toil andpreparation. But Pitt had conquered the Ohio in Canada, news arrivedof the withdrawal of the French, the army pressed on, and, withWashington in the van, marched into the smoking ruins of FortDuquesne, henceforth to be known to the world as Fort Pitt. 

So closed the first period in Washington's public career. We have seenhim pass through it in all its phases. It shows him as an adventurouspioneer, as a reckless frontier fighter, and as a soldier of greatpromise. He learned many things in this time, and was taught much inthe hard school of adversity. In the effort to conquer Frenchmen andIndians he studied the art of war, and at the same time he learnedto bear with and to overcome the dullness and inefficiency of thegovernment he served. Thus he was forced to practise self-control inorder to attain his ends, and to acquire skill in the management ofmen. There could have been no better training for the work he was todo in the after years, and the future showed how deeply he profited byit. Let us turn now, for a moment, to the softer and pleasanter sideof life, and having seen what Washington was, and what he did as afighting man, let us try to know him in the equally important and farmore attractive domain of private and domestic life. 

CHAPTER IV

LOVE AND MARRIAGE

Lewis Willis, of Fredericksburg, who was at school with Washington, used to speak of him as an unusually studious and industrious boy, butrecalled one occasion when he distinguished himself and surprised hisschoolmates by "romping with one of the largest girls. "[1] Half acentury later, when the days of romping were long over and gone, agentleman writing of a Mrs. Hartley, whom Washington much admired, said that the general always liked a fine woman. [2] It is certain thatfrom romping he passed rapidly to more serious forms of expressingregard, for by the time he was fourteen he had fallen deeply in lovewith Mary Bland of Westmoreland, whom he calls his "Lowland Beauty, "and to whom he wrote various copies of verses, preserved amid thenotes of surveys, in his diary for 1747-48. The old traditionidentified the "Lowland Beauty" with Miss Lucy Grymes, perhapscorrectly, and there are drafts of letters addressed to "Dear Sally, "which suggest that the mistake in identification might have arisenfrom the fact that there were several ladies who answered to thatdescription. In the following sentence from the draft of a letter to amasculine sympathizer, also preserved in the tell-tale diary of 1748, there is certainly an indication that the constancy of the lover wasnot perfect. "Dear Friend Robin, " he wrote: "My place of residence atpresent is at his Lordship's, where I might, were my heart disengaged, pass my time very pleasantly, as there is a very agreeable young ladyin the same house, Colonel George Fairfax's wife's sister. But thatonly adds fuel to the fire, as being often and unavoidably in companywith her revives my former passion for your Lowland Beauty; whereaswere I to live more retired from young women, I might in some measurealleviate my sorrow by burying that chaste and troublesome passion inoblivion; I am very well assured that this will be the only antidoteor remedy. " Our gloomy young gentleman, however, did not take tosolitude to cure the pangs of despised love, but preceded to calm hisspirits by the society of this same sister-in-law of George Fairfax, Miss Mary Cary. One "Lowland Beauty, " Lucy Grymes, married Henry Lee, and became the mother of "Legion Harry, " a favorite officer and friendof Washington in the Revolution, and the grandmother of Robert E. Lee, the great soldier of the Southern Confederacy. The affair with MissCary went on apparently for some years, fitfully pursued in theintervals of war and Indian fighting, and interrupted also by mattersof a more tender nature. The first diversion occurred about 1752, whenwe find Washington writing to William Fauntleroy, at Richmond, that heproposed to come to his house to see his sister, Miss Betsy, and thathe hoped for a revocation of her former cruel sentence. [3] Miss Betsy, however, seems to have been obdurate, and we hear no more of loveaffairs until much later, and then in connection with matters of agraver sort. 

[Footnote 1: Quoted from the Willis MS. By Mr. Conway, in _Magazine ofAmerican History_, March, 1887, p. 196. ]

[Footnote 2: _Magazine of American History_, i. 324. ]

[Footnote 3: _Historical Magazine_, 3d series, 1873. Lettercommunicated by Fitzhugh Lee. ]

[Illustration: Mary Cary]

When Captain Dagworthy, commanding thirty men in the Marylandservice, undertook in virtue of a king's commission to outrank thecommander-in-chief of the Virginian forces, Washington made up hismind that he would have this question at least finally and properlysettled. So, as has been said, he went to Boston, saw GovernorShirley, and had the dispute determined in his own favor. He madethe journey on horseback, and had with him two of his aides and twoservants. An old letter, luckily preserved, tells us how he looked, for it contains orders to his London agents for various articles, sentfor perhaps in anticipation of this very expedition. In Braddock'scampaign the young surveyor and frontier soldier had been thrown amonga party of dashing, handsomely equipped officers fresh from London, and their appearance had engaged his careful attention. Washington wasa thoroughly simple man in all ways, but he was also a man oftaste and a lover of military discipline. He had a keen sense ofappropriateness, a valuable faculty which stood him in good stead ingrave as well as trivial matters all through his career, and which inhis youth came out most strongly in the matter of manners and personalappearance. He was a handsome man, and liked to be well dressed and tohave everything about himself or his servants of the best. Yet hewas not a mere imitator of fashions or devoted to fine clothes. TheAmerican leggins and fringed hunting-shirt had a strong hold on hisaffections, and he introduced them into Forbes's army, and again intothe army of the Revolution, as the best uniform for the backwoodsfighters. But he learned with Braddock that the dress of parade has asreal military value as that of service, and when he traveled northwardto settle about Captain Dagworthy, he felt justly that he now wasgoing on parade for the first time as the representative of his troopsand his colony. Therefore with excellent sense he dressed as befittedthe occasion, and at the same time gratified his own taste. 

Thanks to these precautions, the little cavalcade that left Virginiaon February 4, 1756, must have looked brilliant enough as they rodeaway through the dark woods. First came the colonel, mounted of courseon the finest of animals, for he loved and understood horses from thetime when he rode bareback in the pasture to those later days when heacted as judge at a horse-race and saw his own pet colt "Magnolia"beaten. In this expedition he wore, of course, his uniform of buffand blue, with a white and scarlet cloak over his shoulders, and asword-knot of red and gold. His "horse furniture" was of the bestLondon make, trimmed with "livery lace, " and the Washington arms wereengraved upon the housings. Close by his side rode his two aides, likewise in buff and blue, and behind came his servants, dressed inthe Washington colors of white and scarlet and wearing hats laced withsilver. Thus accoutred, they all rode on together to the North. 

The colonel's fame had gone before him, for the hero of Braddock'sstricken field and the commander of the Virginian forces was known byreputation throughout the colonies. Every door flew open to him as hepassed, and every one was delighted to welcome the young soldier. Hewas dined and wined and fêted in Philadelphia, and again in New York, where he fell in love at apparently short notice with the heiress MaryPhilipse, the sister-in-law of his friend Beverly Robinson. Tearinghimself away from these attractions he pushed on to Boston, thenthe most important city on the continent, and the head-quarters ofShirley, the commander-in-chief. The little New England capital had atthat time a society which, rich for those days, was relieved from itsPuritan sombreness by the gayety and life brought in by the royalofficers. Here Washington lingered ten days, talking war and politicswith the governor, visiting in state the "great and general court, "dancing every night at some ball, dining with and being fêted by themagnates of the town. His business done, he returned to New York, tarried there awhile for the sake of the fair dame, but came to noconclusions, and then, like the soldier in the song, he gave hisbridle-rein a shake and rode away again to the South, and to theharassed and ravaged frontier of Virginia. 

How much this little interlude, pushed into a corner as it has been bythe dignity of history, --how much it tells of the real man! How thestatuesque myth and the priggish myth and the dull and solemn mythmelt away before it! Wise and strong, a bearer of heavy responsibilitybeyond his years, daring in fight and sober in judgment, we have herethe other and the more human side of Washington. One loves to picturethat gallant, generous, youthful figure, brilliant in color and manlyin form, riding gayly on from one little colonial town to another, feasting, dancing, courting, and making merry. For him the myrtle andivy were entwined with the laurel, and fame was sweetened by youth. Hewas righteously ready to draw from life all the good things whichfate and fortune then smiling upon him could offer, and he took hispleasure frankly, with an honest heart. 

We know that he succeeded in his mission and put the captain of thirtymen in his proper place, but no one now can tell how deeply he wasaffected by the charms of Miss Philipse. The only certain fact is thathe was able not long after to console himself very effectually. Ridingaway from Mount Vernon once more, in the spring of 1758, this time toWilliamsburg with dispatches, he stopped at William's Ferry to dinewith his friend Major Chamberlayne, and there he met Martha Dandridge, the widow of Daniel Parke Custis. She was young, pretty, intelligent, and an heiress, and her society seemed to attract the young soldier. The afternoon wore away, the horses came to the door at the appointedtime, and after being walked back and forth for some hours werereturned to the stable. The sun went down, and still the colonellingered. The next morning he rode away with his dispatches, but onhis return he paused at the White House, the home of Mrs. Custis, andthen and there plighted his troth with the charming widow. The wooingwas brief and decisive, and the successful lover departed for thecamp, to feel more keenly than ever the delays of the British officersand the shortcomings of the colonial government. As soon as FortDuquesne had fallen he hurried home, resigned his commission in thelast week of December, and was married on January 6, 1759. It was abrilliant wedding party which assembled on that winter day in thelittle church near the White House. There were gathered FrancisFauquier, the gay, free-thinking, high-living governor, gorgeous inscarlet and gold; British officers, redcoated and gold-laced, and allthe neighboring gentry in the handsomest clothes that London creditcould furnish. The bride was attired in silk and satin, laces andbrocade, with pearls on her neck and in her ears; while the bridegroomappeared in blue and silver trimmed with scarlet, and with goldbuckles at his knees and on his shoes. After the ceremony the bridewas taken home in a coach and six, her husband riding beside her, mounted on a splendid horse and followed by all the gentlemen of theparty. 

[Illustration: Mary Morris born Mary Philipse]

The sunshine and glitter of the wedding-day must have appeared toWashington deeply appropriate, for he certainly seemed to have allthat heart of man could desire. Just twenty-seven, in the first flushof young manhood, keen of sense and yet wise in experience, lifemust have looked very fair and smiling. He had left the army with awell-earned fame, and had come home to take the wife of his choice andenjoy the good-will and respect of all men. While away on his lastcampaign he had been elected a member of the House of Burgesses, andwhen he took his seat on removing to Williamsburg, three months afterhis marriage, Mr. Robinson, the speaker, thanked him publicly ineloquent words for his services to the country. Washington rose toreply, but he was so utterly unable to talk about himself that hestood before the House stammering and blushing, until the speakersaid, "Sit down, Mr. Washington; your modesty equals your valor, andthat surpasses the power of any language I possess. " It is an oldstory, and as graceful as it is old, but it was all very grateful toWashington, especially as the words of the speaker bodied forth thefeelings of Virginia. Such an atmosphere, filled with deserved respectand praise, was pleasant to begin with, and then he had everythingelse too. 

He not only continued to sit in the House year after year and help torule Virginia, but he served on the church vestry, and so held in hishands the reins of local government. He had married a charmingwoman, simple, straightforward, and sympathetic, free from gossip orpretense, and as capable in practical matters as he was himself. Byright of birth a member of the Virginian aristocracy, he had widenedand strengthened his connections through his wife. A man of handsomeproperty by the death of Lawrence Washington's daughter, he had becomeby his marriage one of the richest men of the country. Acknowledgedto be the first soldier on the continent, respected and trusted inpublic, successful and happy in private life, he had attained beforehe was thirty to all that Virginia could give of wealth, prosperity, and honor, a fact of which he was well aware, for there never breatheda man more wisely contented than George Washington at this period. 

He made his home at Mount Vernon, adding many acres to the estate, andgiving to it his best attention. It is needless to say that he wassuccessful, for that was the ease with everything he undertook. Heloved country life, and he was the best and most prosperous planter inVirginia, which was really a more difficult achievement than the merestatement implies. Genuinely profitable farming in Virginia was notcommon, for the general system was a bad one. A single great staple, easily produced by the reckless exhaustion of land, and varying widelyin the annual value of crops, bred improvidence and speculation. Everything was bought upon long credits, given by the Londonmerchants, and this, too, contributed largely to carelessness andwaste. The chronic state of a planter in a business way was one ofdebt, and the lack of capital made his conduct of affairs extravagantand loose. With all his care and method Washington himself was oftenpinched for ready money, and it was only by his thoroughness andforesight that he prospered and made money while so many of hisneighbors struggled with debt and lived on in easy luxury, not knowingwhat the morrow might bring forth. 

A far more serious trouble than bad business methods was one which waslittle heeded at the moment, but which really lay at the foundation ofthe whole system of society and business. This was the character ofthe labor by which the plantations were worked. Slave labor is wellknown now to be the most expensive and the worst form of labor thatcan be employed. In the middle of the eighteenth century, however, itsevils were not appreciated, either from an economical or a moral pointof view. This is not the place to discuss the subject of Africanslavery in America. But it is important to know Washington's opinionsin regard to an institution which was destined to have such a powerfulinfluence upon the country, and it seems most appropriate to considerthose opinions at the moment when slaves became a practical factor inhis life as a Virginian planter. 

Washington accepted the system as he found it, as most men accept thesocial arrangements to which they are born. He grew up in a worldwhere slavery had always existed, and where its rightfulness had neverbeen questioned. Being on the frontier, occupied with surveying andwith war, he never had occasion to really consider the matter at alluntil he found himself at the head of large estates, with his ownprosperity dependent on the labor of slaves. The first practicalquestion, therefore, was how to employ this labor to the bestadvantage. A man of his clear perceptions soon discovered the defectsof the system, and he gave great attention to feeding and clothinghis slaves, and to their general management. Parkinson[1] says in ageneral way that Washington treated his slaves harshly, spoke to themsharply, and maintained a military discipline, to which he attributedthe General's rare success as a planter. There can be no doubt ofthe success, and the military discipline is probably true, but thestatement as to harshness is unsupported by any other authority. Indeed, Parkinson even contradicts it himself, for he says elsewherethat Washington never bought or sold a slave, a proof of the highestand most intelligent humanity; and he adds in his final sketch of theGeneral's character, that he "was incapable of wrong-doing, but did toall men as he would they should do to him. Therefore it is not to besupposed that he would injure the negro. " This agrees with what welearn from all other sources. Humane by nature, he conceived a greatinterest and pity for these helpless beings, and treated them withkindness and forethought. In a word, he was a wise and good master, as well as a successful one, and the condition of his slaves wasas happy, and their labor as profitable, as was possible to such asystem. 

[Footnote 1: _Tour in America_, 1798-1800. ]

So the years rolled by; the war came and then the making of thegovernment, and Washington's thoughts were turned more and more, aswas the case with all the men of his time in that era of change andof new ideas, to the consideration of human slavery in its moral, political, and social aspects. To trace the course of his opinionsin detail is needless. It is sufficient to summarize them, for theresults of his reflection and observation are more important than theprocesses by which they were reached. Washington became convinced thatthe whole system was thoroughly bad, as well as utterly repugnant tothe ideas upon which the Revolution was fought and the government ofthe United States founded. With a prescience wonderful for those daysand on that subject, he saw that slavery meant the up-growth in theUnited States of two systems so radically hostile, both socially andeconomically, that they could lead only to a struggle for politicalsupremacy, which in its course he feared would imperil the Union. Forthis reason he deprecated the introduction of the slavery questioninto the debates of the first Congress, because he realized itscharacter, and he did not believe that the Union or the governmentat that early day could bear the strain which in this way would beproduced. At the same time he felt that a right solution must be foundor inconceivable evils would ensue. The inherent and everlasting wrongof the system made its continuance, to his mind, impossible. Whileit existed, he believed that the laws which surrounded it should bemaintained, because he thought that to violate these only added onewrong to another. He also doubted, as will be seen in a later chapter, where his conversation with John Bernard is quoted, whether thenegroes could be immediately emancipated with safety either tothemselves or to the whites, in their actual condition of ignorance, illiteracy, and helplessness. The plan which he favored, and which, it would seem, was his hope and reliance, was first the checkingof importation, followed by a gradual emancipation, with propercompensation to the owners and suitable preparation and education forthe slaves. He told the clergymen Asbury and Coke, when they visitedhim for that purpose, that he was in favor of emancipation, and wasready to write a letter to the assembly to that effect. [1] He wishedfervently that such a spirit might take possession of the people ofthe country, but he wrote to Lafayette that he despaired of seeing it. When he died he did all that lay within his power to impress his viewsupon his countrymen by directing that all his slaves should be setfree on the death of his wife. His precepts and his example in thisgrave matter went unheeded for many years by the generations whichcame after him. But now that slavery is dead, to the joy of all men, it is well to remember that on this terrible question Washington'sopinions were those of a humane man, impatient of wrong, and of anoble and far-seeing statesman, watchful of the evils that threatenedhis country. [2]

[Footnote 1: _Magazine of American History_, 1880, p. 158. ]

[Footnote 2: For some expressions of Washington's opinions on slavery, see Sparks, viii. 414, ix. 159-163, and x. 224. ]

After this digression let us return to the Virginian farmer, whosemind was not disturbed as yet by thoughts of the destiny of the UnitedStates, or considerations of the rights of man, but who was muchexercised by the task of making an honest income out of his estates. To do this he grappled with details as firmly as he did with thegeneral system under which all plantations in that day were carriedon. He understood every branch of farming; he was on the alert forevery improvement; he rose early, worked steadily, gave to everythinghis personal supervision, kept his own accounts with wonderfulexactness, and naturally enough his brands of flour went unquestionedeverywhere, his credit was high, and he made money--so far as itwas possible under existing conditions. Like Shakespeare, as BishopBlougram has it, he

 "Saved money, spent it, owned the worth of things. "

He had no fine and senseless disregard for money or the good things ofthis world, but on the contrary saw in them not the value attached tothem by vulgar minds, but their true worth. He was a solid, square, evenly-balanced man in those days, believing that whatever he did wasworth doing well. So he farmed, as he fought and governed, better thananybody else. 

While thus looking after his own estates at home, he went furtherafield in search of investments, keeping a shrewd eye on the westernlands, and buying wisely and judiciously whenever he had theopportunity. He also constituted himself now, as in a later time, thechampion of the soldiers, for whom he had the truest sympathy andaffection, and a large part of the correspondence of this period isdevoted to their claims for the lands granted them by the assembly. He distinguished carefully among them, however, those who wereundeserving, and to the major of the regiment, who had been excludedfrom the public thanks on account of cowardice at the Great Meadows, he wrote as follows: "Your impertinent letter was delivered to meyesterday. As I am not accustomed to receive such from any man, norwould have taken the same language from you personally without lettingyou feel some marks of my resentment, I would advise you to becautious in writing me a second of the same tenor. But for yourstupidity and sottishness you might have known, by attending to thepublic gazette, that you had your full quantity of ten thousand acresof land allowed you. But suppose you had really fallen short, do youthink your superlative merit entitles you to greater indulgence thanothers?. .. All my concern is that I ever engaged in behalf of soungrateful a fellow as you are. " The writer of this letter, be it saidin passing, was the man whom Mr. Weems and others tell us was knockeddown before his soldiers, and then apologized to his assailant. It maybe suspected that it was well for the recipient of this letter thathe did not have a personal interview with its author, and it maybe doubted if he ever sought one subsequently. Just, generous, andmagnanimous to an extraordinary degree, Washington had a dangeroustemper, held well under control, but blazing out now and again againstinjustice, insolence, or oppression. He was a peaceful man, leading apeaceful life, but the fighting spirit only slumbered, and itwould break out at wrong of any sort, in a way which was extremelyunpleasant and threatening to those who aroused it. 

Apart from lands and money and the management of affairs, public andprivate, there were many other interests of varied nature which allhad their share of Washington's time and thought. He was a devotedhusband, and gave to his stepchildren the most affectionate care. Hewatched over and protected them, and when the daughter died, after along and wasting illness, in 1773, he mourned for her as if shehad been his own, with all the tenderness of a deep and reservedaffection. The boy, John Custis, he made his friend and companion fromthe beginning, and his letters to the lad and about him are wise andjudicious in the highest degree. He spent much time and thought on thequestion of education, and after securing the best instructors tookthe boy to New York and entered him at Columbia College in 1773. YoungCustis, however, did not remain there long, for he had fallen in love, and the following year was married to Eleanor Calvert, not withoutsome misgivings on the part of Washington, who had observed his ward'ssomewhat flighty disposition, and who gave a great deal of anxiousthought to his future. At home as abroad he was an undemonstrativeman, but he had abundance of that real affection which labors forthose to whom it goes out more unselfishly and far more effectuallythan that which bubbles and boils upon the surface like a shallow, noisy brook. 

From the suggestions that he made in regard to young Custis, it isevident that Washington valued and respected education, and that hehad that regard for learning for its own sake which always existsin large measure in every thoughtful man. He read well, even if hisactive life prevented his reading much, as we can see by his vigorousEnglish, and by his occasional allusions to history. From his Londonorders we see, too, that everything about his house must have denotedthat its possessor had refinement and taste. His intense senseof propriety and unfailing instinct for what was appropriate areeverywhere apparent. His dress, his furniture, his harnesses, thethings for the children, all show the same fondness for simplicity, and yet a constant insistence that everything should be the best ofits kind. We can learn a good deal about any man by the ornaments ofhis house, and by the portraits which hang on his walls; for thesedumb things tell us whom among the great men of earth the owneradmires, and indicate the tastes he best loves to gratify. WhenWashington first settled with his wife at Mount Vernon, he orderedfrom Europe the busts of Alexander the Great, Charles XII. Of Sweden, Julius Cæsar, Frederick of Prussia, Marlborough, and Prince Eugene, and in addition he asked for statuettes of "two wild beasts. " Thecombination of soldier and statesman is the predominant admiration, then comes the reckless and splendid military adventurer, and lastlywild life and the chase. There is no mistaking the ideas and fanciesof the man who penned this order which has drifted down to us from thepast. 

But as Washington's active life was largely out of doors, so too werehis pleasures. He loved the fresh open-air existence of the woodsand fields, and there he found his one great amusement. He shot andfished, but did not care much for these pursuits, for his hobby washunting, which gratified at once his passion for horses and dogs andhis love for the strong excitement of the chase, when dashed with justenough danger to make it really fascinating. He showed in his sportthe same thoroughness and love of perfection that he displayed ineverything else. His stables were filled with the best horses thatVirginia could furnish. There were the "blooded coach-horses" for Mrs. Washington's carriage, "Magnolia, " a full-blooded Arabian, used byhis owner for the road, the ponies for the children, and finally, thehigh-bred hunters Chinkling and Valiant, Ajax and Blueskin, and therest, all duly set down in the register in the handwriting of themaster himself. His first visit in the morning was to the stables;the next to the kennels to inspect and criticise the hounds, alsomethodically registered and described, so that we can read the namesof Vulcan and Ringwood, Singer and Truelove, Music and Sweetlips, towhich the Virginian woods once echoed nearly a century and a half ago. His hounds were the subject of much thought, and were so constantlyand critically drafted as to speed, keenness, and bottom, that when infull cry they ran so closely bunched that tradition says, in classicphrase, they could have been covered with a blanket. The hounds metthree times a week in the season, usually at Mount Vernon, sometimesat Belvoir. They would get off at daybreak, Washington in the midst ofhis hounds, splendidly mounted, generally on his favorite Blueskin, apowerful iron-gray horse of great speed and endurance. He wore a bluecoat, scarlet waistcoat, buckskin breeches, and a velvet cap. Closelyfollowed by his huntsman and the neighboring gentlemen, with theladies, headed, very likely, by Mrs. Washington in a scarlet habit, he would ride to the appointed covert and throw in. There was nodifficulty in finding, and then away they would go, usually after agray fox, sometimes after a big black fox, rarely to be caught. Mostof the country was wild and unfenced, rough in footing, and offeringhard and dangerous going for the horses, but Washington always made ita rule to stay with his hounds. Cautious or timid riders, if they wereso minded, could gallop along the wood roads with the ladies, andcontent themselves with glimpses of the hunt, but the master rode atthe front. The fields, it is to be feared, were sometimes small, butWashington hunted even if he had only his stepson or was quite alone. 

His diaries abound with allusions to the sport. "Went a-hunting withJacky Custis, and catched a fox after three hours chase; found it inthe creek. " "Mr. Bryan Fairfax, Mr. Grayson, and Phil. Alexander camehome by sunrise. Hunted and catched a fox with these. Lord Fairfax, his brother, and Colonel Fairfax, all of whom, with Mr. Fairfax andMr. Wilson of England, dined here. " Again, November 26 and 29, "Huntedagain with the same party. " "1768, Jan. 8th. Hunting again with samecompany. Started a fox and run him 4 hours. Took the hounds off atnight. " "Jan. 15. Shooting. " "16. At home all day with cards; itsnowing. " "23. Rid to Muddy Hole and directed paths to be cut forfoxhunting. " "Feb. 12. Catched 2 foxes. " "Feb. 13. Catched 2 morefoxes. " "Mar. 2. Catched fox with bob'd tail and cut ears after7 hours chase, in which most of the dogs were worsted. " "Dec. 5. Fox-hunting with Lord Fairfax and his brother and Colonel Fairfax. Started a fox and lost it. Dined at Belvoir and returned in theevening. "[1]

[Footnote 1: MS. Diaries in State Department. ]

So the entries run on, for he hunted almost every day in the season, usually with success, but always with persistence. Like all truesportsmen Washington had a horror of illicit sport of any kind, andalthough he shot comparatively little, he was much annoyed by avagabond who lurked in the creeks and inlets on his estate, andslaughtered his canvas-back ducks. Hearing the report of a gun onemorning, he rode through the bushes and saw his poaching friend justshoving off in a canoe. The rascal raised his gun and covered hispursuer, whereupon Washington, the cold-blooded and patient personso familiar in the myths, dashed his horse headlong into the water, seized the gun, grasped the canoe, and dragging it ashore pulled theman out of the boat and beat him soundly. If the man had yielded atonce he would probably have got off easily enough, but when he putWashington's life in imminent peril, the wild fighting spirit flaredup as usual. 

The hunting season was of course that of the most lavish hospitality. There was always a great deal of dining about, but Mount Vernon wasthe chief resort, and its doors, ever open, were flung far back whenpeople came for a meet, or gathered to talk over the events of a goodrun. Company was the rule and solitude the exception. When only thefamily were at dinner, the fact was written down in the diary withgreat care as an unusual event, for Washington was the soul ofhospitality, and although he kept early hours, he loved society and ahouseful of people. Profoundly reserved and silent as to himself, a lover of solitude so far as his own thoughts and feelings wereconcerned, he was far from being a solitary man in the ordinaryacceptation of the word. He liked life and gayety and conversation, heliked music and dancing or a game of cards when the weather was bad, and he enjoyed heartily the presence of young people and of his ownfriends. So Mount Vernon was always full of guests, and the masternoted in his diary that although he owned more than a hundred cows hewas obliged, nevertheless, to buy butter, which suggests an experiencenot unknown to gentlemen farmers of any period, and also that companywas never lacking in that generous, open house overlooking thePotomac. 

Beyond the bounds of his own estate he had also many occupations andpleasures. He was a member of the House of Burgesses, diligent in hisattention to the work of governing the colony. He was diligent also inchurch affairs, and very active in the vestry, which was the seat oflocal government in Virginia. We hear of him also as the managerof lotteries, which were a common form of raising money for localpurposes, in preference to direct taxation. In a word, he wasthoroughly public-spirited, and performed all the small duties whichhis position demanded in the same spirit that he afterwards broughtto the command of armies and to the government of the nation. He hadpleasure too, as well as business, away from Mount Vernon. He likedto go to his neighbors' houses and enjoy their hospitality as theyenjoyed his. We hear of him at the courthouse on court days, where allthe country-side gathered to talk and listen to the lawyers and hearthe news, and when he went to Williamsburg his diary tells us of around of dinners, beginning with the governor, of visits to the club, and of a regular attendance at the theatre whenever actors came to thelittle capital. Whether at home or abroad, he took part in all theserious pursuits, in all the interests, and in every reasonablepleasure offered by the colony. 

Take it for all in all, it was a manly, wholesome, many-sided life. Itkept Washington young and strong, both mentally and physically. Whenhe was forty he flung the iron bar, at some village sports, to a pointwhich no competitor could approach. There was no man in all Virginiawho could ride a horse with such a powerful and assured seat. There was no one who could journey farther on foot, and no man atWilliamsburg who showed at the governor's receptions such a commandingpresence, or who walked with such a strong and elastic step. As withthe body so with the mind. He never rusted. A practical carpenter andsmith, he brought the same quiet intelligence and firm will to theforging of iron or the felling and sawing of trees that he haddisplayed in fighting France. The life of a country gentleman did notdull or stupefy him, or lead him to gross indulgences. He remainedwell-made and athletic, strong and enduring, keen in perception and insense, and warm in his feelings and affections. Many men would havebecome heavy and useless in these years of quiet country life, butWashington simply ripened, and, like all slowly maturing men, grewstronger, abler, and wiser in the happy years of rest and waitingwhich intervened between youth and middle age. 

Meantime, while the current of daily life flowed on thus gently atMount Vernon, the great stream of public events poured by outside. Itran very calmly at first, after the war, and then with a quickeningmurmur, which increased to an ominous roar when the passage of theStamp Act became known in America. Washington was always a constantattendant at the assembly, in which by sheer force of character, anddespite his lack of the talking and debating faculty, he carried moreweight than any other member. He was present on May 29, 1765, whenPatrick Henry introduced his famous resolutions and menaced the king'sgovernment in words which rang through the continent. The resolutionswere adopted, and Washington went home, with many anxious thoughts, to discuss the political outlook with his friend and neighbor GeorgeMason, one of the keenest and ablest men in Virginia. The utterfolly of the policy embodied in the Stamp Act struck Washington veryforcibly. With that foresight for which he was so remarkable, heperceived what scarcely any one else even dreamt of, that persistencein this course must surely lead to a violent separation from themother-country, and it is interesting to note in this, the firstinstance when he was called upon to consider a political question ofgreat magnitude, his clearness of vision and grasp of mind. In what hewrote there is no trace of the ambitious schemer, no threatening norblustering, no undue despondency nor excited hopes. But there is acalm understanding of all the conditions, an entire freedom fromself-deception, and the power of seeing facts exactly as they were, which were all characteristic of his intellectual strength, and towhich we shall need to recur again and again. 

The repeal of the Stamp Act was received by Washington with sober butsincere pleasure. He had anticipated "direful" results and "unhappyconsequences" from its enforcement, and he freely said that those whowere instrumental in its repeal had his cordial thanks. He was noagitator, and had not come forward in this affair, so he now retiredagain to Mount Vernon, to his farming and hunting, where he remained, watching very closely the progress of events. He had marked thedangerous reservation of the principle in the very act of repeal; heobserved at Boston the gathering strength of what the wise ministersof George III. Called sedition; he noted the arrival of British troopsin the rebellious Puritan town; and he saw plainly enough, looming inthe background, the final appeal to arms. He wrote to Mason (April 5, 1769), that "at a time when our lordly masters in Great Britain willbe satisfied with nothing less than the deprivation of Americanfreedom, something should be done to avert the stroke and maintain theliberty which we have derived from our ancestors. But the manner ofdoing it, to answer the purpose effectually, is the point in question. That no man should scruple or hesitate a moment to use arms in defenseof so valuable a blessing is clearly my opinion. Yet arms, I would begleave to add, should be the last resource, the _dernier ressort_. " Hethen urged the adoption of the only middle course, non-importation, but he had not much hope in this expedient, although an honest desireis evident that it may prove effectual. 

When the assembly met in May, they received the new governor, LordBotetourt, with much cordiality, and then fell to passing spiritedand sharp-spoken resolutions declaring their own rights and defendingMassachusetts. The result was a dissolution. Thereupon the burgessesrepaired to the Raleigh tavern, where they adopted a set ofnon-importation resolutions and formed an association. The resolutionswere offered by Washington, and were the result of his quiet countrytalks with Mason. When the moment for action arrived, Washington camenaturally to the front, and then returned quietly to Mount Vernon, once more to go about his business and watch the threatening politicalhorizon. Virginia did not live up to this first non-importationagreement, and formed another a year later. But Washington was not inthe habit of presenting resolutions merely for effect, and therewas nothing of the actor in his composition. His resolutions meantbusiness, and he lived up to them rigidly himself. Neither tea norany of the proscribed articles were allowed in his house. Most ofthe leaders did not realize the seriousness of the situation, butWashington, looking forward with clear and sober gaze, was in grimearnest, and was fully conscious that when he offered his resolutionsthe colony was trying the last peaceful remedy, and that the next stepwould be war. 

Still he went calmly about his many affairs as usual, and gratifiedthe old passion for the frontier by a journey to Pittsburgh for thesake of lands and soldiers' claims, and thence down the Ohio and intothe wilderness with his old friends the trappers and pioneers. Hevisited the Indian villages as in the days of the French mission, andnoted in the savages an ominous restlessness, which seemed, like theflight of birds, to express the dumb instinct of an approaching storm. The clouds broke away somewhat under the kindly management of LordBotetourt, and then gathered again more thickly on the accession ofhis successor, Lord Dunmore. With both these gentlemen Washington wason the most friendly terms. He visited them often, and was consultedby them, as it behooved them to consult the strongest man within thelimits of their government. Still he waited and watched, and scannedcarefully the news from the North. Before long he heard thattea-chests were floating in Boston harbor, and then from across thewater came intelligence of the passage of the Port Bill and othermeasures destined to crush to earth the little rebel town. 

When the Virginia assembly met again, they proceeded to congratulatethe governor on the arrival of Lady Dunmore, and then suddenly, asall was flowing smoothly along, there came a letter through thecorresponding committee which Washington had helped to establish, telling of the measures against Boston. Everything else was thrownaside at once, a vigorous protest was entered on the journal of theHouse, and June 1, when the Port Bill was to go into operation, wasappointed a day of fasting, humiliation, and prayer. The first resultwas prompt dissolution of the assembly. The next was another meetingin the long room of the Raleigh tavern, where the Boston billwas denounced, non-importation renewed, and the committee ofcorrespondence instructed to take steps for calling a generalcongress. Events were beginning to move at last with perilousrapidity. Washington dined with Lord Dunmore on the evening of thatday, rode with him, and appeared at her ladyship's ball the nextnight, for it was not his way to bite his thumb at men from whom hediffered politically, nor to call the motives of his opponents inquestion. But when the 1st of June arrived, he noted in his diary thathe fasted all day and attended the appointed services. He always meantwhat he said, being of a simple nature, and when he fasted and prayedthere was something ominously earnest about it, something that hisexcellency the governor, who liked the society of this agreeableman and wise counselor, would have done well to consider and drawconclusions from, and which he probably did not heed at all. He mightwell have reflected, as he undoubtedly failed to do, that when menof the George Washington type fast and pray on account of politicalmisdoings, it is well for their opponents to look to it carefully. 

Meantime Boston had sent forth appeals to form a league among thecolonies, and thereupon another meeting was held in the Raleightavern, and a letter was dispatched advising the burgesses to considerthis matter of a general league and take the sense of their respectivecounties. Virginia and Massachusetts had joined hands now, and theywere sweeping the rest of the continent irresistibly forward withthem. As for Washington, he returned to Mount Vernon and at once setabout taking the sense of his county, as he had agreed. Before doingso he had some correspondence with his old friend Bryan Fairfax. TheFairfaxes naturally sided with the mother-country, and Bryan was muchdistressed by the course of Virginia, and remonstrated strongly, andat length by letter, against violent measures. Washington repliedto him: "Does it not appear as clear as the sun in its meridianbrightness that there is a regular, systematic plan formed to fix theright and practice of taxation on us? Does not the uniform conduct ofParliament for some years past confirm this? Do not all the debates, especially those just brought to us in the House of Commons, on theside of government expressly declare that America must be taxed inaid of the British funds, and that she has no longer resources withinherself? Is there anything to be expected from petitioning after this?Is not the attack upon the liberty and property of the people ofBoston, before restitution of the loss to the India Company wasdemanded, a plain and self-evident proof of what they are aiming at?Do not the subsequent bills (now I dare say acts) for depriving theMassachusetts Bay of its charter, and for transporting offenders intoother colonies, or to Great Britain for trial, where it is impossiblefrom the nature of the thing that justice can be obtained, convince usthat the administration is determined to stick at nothing to carryits point? Ought we not, then, to put our virtue and fortitude to theseverest test?" He was prepared, he continued, for anything exceptconfiscating British debts, which struck him as dishonorable. Thesewere plain but pregnant questions, but what we mark in them, andin all his letters of this time, is the absence of constitutionaldiscussion, of which America was then full. They are confined to adirect presentation of the broad political question, which underlayeverything. Washington always went straight to the mark, and he nowsaw, through all the dust of legal and constitutional strife, thatthe only real issue was whether America was to be allowed to governherself in her own way or not. In the acts of the ministry heperceived a policy which aimed at substantial power, and he believedthat such a policy, if insisted on, could have but one result. 

The meeting of Fairfax County was held in due course, and Washingtonpresided. The usual resolutions for self-government and againstthe vindictive Massachusetts measures were adopted. Union andnon-importation were urged; and then the congress, which theyadvocated, was recommended to address a petition and remonstrance tothe king, and ask him to reflect that "from our sovereign there canbe but one appeal. " Everything was to be tried, everything was to bedone, but the ultimate appeal was never lost sight of where Washingtonappeared, and the final sentence of these Fairfax County resolves isvery characteristic of the leader in the meeting. Two days later hewrote to the worthy and still remonstrating Bryan Fairfax, repeatingand enlarging his former questions, and adding: "Has not GeneralGage's conduct since his arrival, in stopping the address of hiscouncil, and publishing a proclamation more becoming a Turkish bashawthan an English governor, declaring it treason to associate in anymanner by which the commerce of Great Britain is to be affected, --hasnot this exhibited an unexampled testimony of the most despotic systemof tyranny that ever was practiced in a free government?. .. Shall weafter this whine and cry for relief, when we have already tried it invain? Or shall we supinely sit and see one province after another falla sacrifice to despotism?" The fighting spirit of the man was rising. There was no rash rushing forward, no ignorant shouting for war, noblinking of the real issue, but a foresight that nothing could dim, and a perception of facts which nothing could confuse. On August 1Washington was at Williamsburg, to represent his county in themeeting of representatives from all Virginia. The convention passedresolutions like the Fairfax resolves, and chose delegates to ageneral congress. The silent man was now warming into action. He "madethe most eloquent speech that ever was made, " and said, "I will raisea thousand men, subsist them at my own expense, and march them to therelief of Boston. " He was capable, it would seem, of talking to thepurpose with some fire and force, for all he was so quiet and soretiring. When there was anything to say, he could say it so that itstirred all who listened, because they felt that there was a masteringstrength behind the words. He faced the terrible issue solemnly andfirmly, but his blood was up, the fighting spirit in him was aroused, and the convention chose him as one of Virginia's six delegates tothe Continental Congress. He lingered long enough to make a fewpreparations at Mount Vernon. He wrote another letter to Fairfax, interesting to us as showing the keenness with which he read in themeagre news-reports the character of Gage and of the opposing peopleof Massachusetts. Then he started for the North to take the first stepon the long and difficult path that lay before him. 

CHAPTER V

TAKING COMMAND

In the warm days of closing August, a party of three gentlemen rodeaway from Mount Vernon one morning, and set out upon their longjourney to Philadelphia. One cannot help wondering whether a tenderand somewhat sad remembrance did not rise in Washington's mind, as hethought of the last time he had gone northward, nearly twenty yearsbefore. Then, he was a light-hearted young soldier, and he and hisaides, albeit they went on business, rode gayly through the forests, lighting the road with the bright colors they wore and with theglitter of lace and arms, while they anticipated all the pleasures ofyouth in the new lands they were to visit. Now, he was in the prime ofmanhood, looking into the future with prophetic eyes, and sober as washis wont when the shadow of coming responsibility lay dark upon hispath. With him went Patrick Henry, four years his junior, and EdmundPendleton, now past threescore. They were all quiet and grave enough, no doubt; but Washington, we may believe, was gravest of all, because, being the most truthful of men to himself as to others, he saw moreplainly what was coming. So they made their journey to the North, andon the memorable 5th of September they met with their brethren fromthe other colonies in Carpenters' Hall in Philadelphia. 

The Congress sat fifty-one days, occupied with debates and discussion. Few abler, more honest, or more memorable bodies of men have everassembled to settle the fate of nations. Much debate, great andearnest in all directions, resulted in a declaration of colonialrights, in an address to the king, in another to the people of Canada, and a third to the people of Great Britain; masterly state papers, seldom surpassed, and extorting even then the admiration of England. In these debates and state papers Washington took no part that is nowapparent on the face of the record. He was silent in the Congress, andif he was consulted, as he unquestionably was by the committees, thereis no record of it now. The simple fact was that his time had notcome. He saw men of the most acute minds, liberal in education, patriotic in heart, trained in law and in history, doing the workof the moment in the best possible way. If anything had been donewrongly, or had been left undone, Washington would have found hisvoice quickly enough, and uttered another of the "most eloquentspeeches ever made, " as he did shortly before in the Virginiaconvention. He could speak in public when need was, but now there wasno need and nothing to arouse him. The work of Congress followedthe line of policy adopted by the Virginia convention, and that hadproceeded along the path marked out in the Fairfax resolves, so thatWashington could not be other than content. He occupied his own time, as we see by notes in his diary, in visiting the delegates fromthe other colonies, and in informing himself as to their ideas andpurposes, and those of the people whom they represented. He wasquietly working for the future, the present being well taken care of. Yet this silent man, going hither and thither, and chatting pleasantlywith this member or that, was in some way or other impressing himselfdeeply on all the delegates, for Patrick Henry said: "If you speakof solid information and sound judgment, Colonel Washington isunquestionably the greatest man on the floor. "

We have a letter, written at just this time, which shows us howWashington felt, and we see again how his spirit rose as he saw moreand more clearly that the ultimate issue was inevitable. The letter isaddressed to Captain Mackenzie, a British officer at Boston, and anold friend. "Permit me, " he began, "with the freedom of a friend (foryou know I always esteemed you), to express my sorrow that fortuneshould place you in a service that must fix curses to the latestposterity upon the contrivers, and, if success (which, by the by, isimpossible) accompanies it, execrations upon all those who have beeninstrumental in the execution. " This was rather uncompromising talkand not over peaceable, it must be confessed. He continued: "Give meleave to add, and I think I can announce it as a fact, that it is notthe wish or intent of that government [Massachusetts], or any otherupon this continent, separately or collectively, to set up forindependence; but this you may at the same time rely on, that noneof them will ever submit to the loss of those valuable rights andprivileges which are essential to the happiness of every free state, and without which life, liberty, and property are rendered totallyinsecure. .. . Again give me leave to add as my opinion that more bloodwill be spilled on this occasion, if the ministry are determinedto push matters to extremity, than history has ever yet furnishedinstances of in the annals of North America, and such a vital woundwill be given to the peace of this great country, as time itselfcannot cure or eradicate the remembrance of. " Washington was not apolitical agitator like Sam Adams, planning with unerring intelligenceto bring about independence. On the contrary, he rightly declared thatindependence was not desired. But although he believed in exhaustingevery argument and every peaceful remedy, it is evident that he feltthat there now could be but one result, and that violent separationfrom the mother country was inevitable. Here is where he differed fromhis associates and from the great mass of the people, and it is tothis entire veracity of mind that his wisdom and foresight were solargely due, as well as his success when the time came for him to puthis hand to the plough. 

When Congress adjourned, Washington returned to Mount Vernon, to thepursuits and pleasures that he loved, to his family and farm, and tohis horses and hounds, with whom he had many a good run, the last thathe was to enjoy for years to come. He returned also to wait andwatch as before, and to see war rapidly gather in the east. When theVirginia convention again assembled, resolutions were introduced toarm and discipline men, and Henry declared in their support thatan "appeal to arms and to the God of Hosts" was all that was left. Washington said nothing, but he served on the committee to draft aplan of defense, and then fell to reviewing the independent companieswhich were springing up everywhere. At the same time he wrote to hisbrother John, who had raised a troop, that he would accept the commandof it if desired, as it was his "full intention to devote his life andfortune in the cause we are engaged in, if needful. " At Mount Vernonhis old comrades of the French war began to appear, in search ofcourage and sympathy. Thither, too, came Charles Lee, a typicalmilitary adventurer of that period, a man of English birth and ofvaried service, brilliant, whimsical, and unbalanced. There also cameHoratio Gates, likewise British, and disappointed with his prospectsat home; less adventurous than Lee, but also less brilliant, and notmuch more valuable. 

Thus the winter wore away; spring opened, and toward the end of AprilWashington started again for the North, much occupied with certaintidings from Lexington and Concord which just then spread over theland. He saw all that it meant plainly enough, and after noting thefact that the colonists fought and fought well, he wrote to GeorgeFairfax in England: "Unhappy it is to reflect that a brother's swordhas been sheathed in a brother's breast, and that the once happy andpeaceful plains of America are either to be drenched in blood orinhabited by slaves. Sad alternative. But can a virtuous man hesitatein his choice?" Congress, it would seem, thought there was a good dealof room for hesitation, both for virtuous men and others, and afterthe fashion of their race determined to do a little more debating andarguing, before taking any decisive step. After much resistance anddiscussion, a second "humble and dutiful petition" to the king wasadopted, and with strange contradiction a confederation was formed atthe same time, and Congress proceeded to exercise the sovereign powersthus vested in them. The most pressing and troublesome question beforethem was what to do with the army surrounding Boston, and with theactual hostilities there existing. 

Washington, for his part, went quietly about as before, sayingnothing and observing much, working hard as chairman of the militarycommittees, planning for defense, and arranging for raising an army. One act of his alone stands out for us with significance at thiscritical time. In this second Congress he appeared habitually on thefloor in his blue and buff uniform of a Virginia colonel. It was hisway of saying that the hour for action had come, and that he at leastwas ready for the fight whenever called upon. 

Presently he was summoned. Weary of waiting, John Adams at lastdeclared that Congress must adopt the army and make Washington, who atthis mention of his name stepped out of the room, commander-in-chief. On June 15, formal motions were made to this effect and unanimouslyadopted, and the next day Washington appeared before Congress andaccepted the trust. His words were few and simple. He expressed hissense of his own insufficiency for the task before him, and said thatas no pecuniary consideration could have induced him to undertake thework, he must decline all pay or emoluments, only looking to Congressto defray his expenses. In the same spirit he wrote to his soldiersin Virginia, to his brother, and finally, in terms at once simpleand pathetic, to his wife. There was no pretense about this, but thesternest reality of self-distrust, for Washington saw and measured asdid no one else the magnitude of the work before him. He knew that hewas about to face the best troops of Europe, and he had learned byexperience that after the first excitement was over he would beobliged to rely upon a people who were brave and patriotic, but alsoundisciplined, untrained, and unprepared for war, without money, without arms, without allies or credit, and torn by selfish localinterests. Nobody else perceived all this as he was able to with hismastery of facts, but he faced the duty unflinchingly. He did not putit aside because he distrusted himself, for in his truthfulness hecould not but confess that no other American could show one titheof his capacity, experience, or military service. He knew what wascoming, knew it, no doubt, when he first put on his uniform, and heaccepted instantly. 

John Adams in his autobiography speaks of the necessity of choosing aSouthern general, and also says there were objectors to the selectionof Washington even among the Virginia delegates. That there werepolitical reasons for taking a Virginian cannot be doubted. But thedissent, even if it existed, never appeared on the surface, exceptingin the case of John Hancock, who, with curious vanity, thought that heought to have this great place. When Washington's name was proposedthere was no murmur of opposition, for there was no man who could forone moment be compared with him in fitness. The choice was inevitable, and he himself felt it to be so. He saw it coming; he would fain haveavoided the great task, but no thought of shrinking crossed his mind. He saw with his entire freedom from constitutional subtleties that anabsolute parliament sought to extend its power to the colonies. Tothis he would not submit, and he knew that this was a question whichcould be settled only by one side giving way, or by the dread appealto arms. It was a question of fact, hard, unrelenting fact, now to bedetermined by battle, and on him had fallen the burden of sustainingthe cause of his country. In this spirit he accepted his commission, and rode forth to review the troops. He was greeted with loud acclaimwherever he appeared. Mankind is impressed by externals, and thosewho gazed upon Washington in the streets of Philadelphia felt theircourage rise and their hearts grow strong at the sight of his virile, muscular figure as he passed before them on horseback, stately, dignified, and self-contained. The people looked upon him, and wereconfident that this was a man worthy and able to dare and do allthings. 

On June 21 he set forth accompanied by Lee and Schuyler, and with abrilliant escort. He had ridden but twenty miles when he was met bythe news of Bunker Hill. "Did the militia fight?" was the immediateand characteristic question; and being told that they did fight, heexclaimed, "Then the liberties of the country are safe. " Given thefighting spirit, Washington felt he could do anything. Full of thisimportant intelligence he pressed forward to Newark, where he wasreceived by a committee of the provincial congress, sent to conductthe commander-in-chief to New York. There he tarried long enough toappoint Schuyler to the charge of the military affairs in that colony, having mastered on the journey its complicated social and politicalconditions. Pushing on through Connecticut he reached Watertown, wherehe was received by the provincial congress of Massachusetts, on July2, with every expression of attachment and confidence. Lingering lessthan an hour for this ceremony, he rode on to the headquarters atCambridge, and when he came within the lines the shouts of thesoldiers and the booming of cannon announced his arrival to theEnglish in Boston. 

The next day he rode forth in the presence of a great multitude, andthe troops having been drawn up before him, he drew his sword beneaththe historical elm-tree, and took command of the first American army. "His excellency, " wrote Dr. Thatcher in his journal, "was on horsebackin company with several military gentlemen. It was not difficult todistinguish him from all others. He is tall and well proportioned, andhis personal appearance truly noble and majestic. " "He is tall and ofeasy and agreeable address, " the loyalist Curwen had remarked a fewweeks before; while Mrs. John Adams, warm-hearted and clever, wroteto her husband after the general's arrival: "Dignity, ease, andcomplacency, the gentleman and the soldier, look agreeably blended inhim. Modesty marks every line and feature of his face. Those lines ofDryden instantly occurred to me, --

 'Mark his majestic fabric! He's a temple Sacred by birth, and built by hands divine; His soul's the deity that lodges there; Nor is the pile unworthy of the God. '"

Lady, lawyer, and surgeon, patriot and tory, all speak alike, and asthey wrote so New England felt. A slave-owner, an aristocrat, and achurchman, Washington came to Cambridge to pass over the headsof native generals to the command of a New England army, among ademocratic people, hard-working and simple in their lives, anddissenters to the backbone, who regarded episcopacy as somethinglittle short of papistry and quite equivalent to toryism. Yet theshout that went up from soldiers and people on Cambridge common onthat pleasant July morning came from the heart and had no jarringnote. A few of the political chiefs growled a little in later days atWashington, but the soldiers and the people, high and low, rich andpoor, gave him an unstinted loyalty. On the fields of battle andthroughout eight years of political strife the men of New Englandstood by the great Virginian with a devotion and truth in which was noshadow of turning. Here again we see exhibited most conspicuouslythe powerful personality of the man who was able thus to commandimmediately the allegiance of this naturally cold and reserved people. What was it that they saw which inspired them at once with so muchconfidence? They looked upon a tall, handsome man, dressed in plainuniform, wearing across his breast a broad blue band of silk, whichsome may have noticed as the badge and symbol of a certain solemnleague and covenant once very momentous in the English-speaking world. They saw his calm, high bearing, and in every line of face and figurethey beheld the signs of force and courage. Yet there must have beensomething more to call forth the confidence then so quickly given, andwhich no one ever long withheld. All felt dimly, but none the lesssurely, that here was a strong, able man, capable of rising to theemergency, whatever it might be, capable of continued growth anddevelopment, clear of head and warm of heart; and so the New Englandpeople gave to him instinctively their sympathy and their faith, andnever took either back. 

The shouts and cheers died away, and then Washington returned to histemporary quarters in the Wadsworth house, to master the task beforehim. The first great test of his courage and ability had come, and hefaced it quietly as the excitement caused by his arrival passed by. Hesaw before him, to use his own words, "a mixed multitude of people, under very little discipline, order, or government. " In the languageof one of his aides:[1] "The entire army, if it deserved the name, wasbut an assemblage of brave, enthusiastic, undisciplined, country lads;the officers in general quite as ignorant of military life as thetroops, excepting a few elderly men, who had seen some irregularservice among the provincials under Lord Amherst. " With this force, ill-posted and very insecurely fortified, Washington was to drive theBritish from Boston. His first step was to count his men, and it tookeight days to get the necessary returns, which in an ordinary armywould have been furnished in an hour. When he had them, he found thatinstead of twenty thousand, as had been represented, but fourteenthousand soldiers were actually present for duty. In a short time, however, Mr. Emerson, the chaplain, noted in his diary that itwas surprising how much had been done, that the lines had been soextended, and the works so shrewdly built, that it was morallyimpossible for the enemy to get out except in one place purposely leftopen. A little later the same observer remarked: "There is a greatoverturning in the camp as to order and regularity; new lords, newlaws. The Generals Washington and Lee are upon the lines every day. The strictest government is taking place, and great distinction ismade between officers and soldiers. " Bodies of troops scattered hereand there by chance were replaced by well-distributed forces, postedwisely and effectively in strong intrenchments. It is little wonderthat the worthy chaplain was impressed, and now, seeing it all fromevery side, we too can watch order come out of chaos and mark thegrowth of an army under the guidance of a master-mind and the steadypressure of an unbending will. 

[Footnote 1: John Trumbull, _Reminiscences_, p. 18. ]

Then too there was no discipline, for the army was composed of rawmilitia, who elected their officers and carried on war as theypleased. In a passage suppressed by Mr. Sparks, Washington said:"There is no such thing as getting officers of this stamp to carryorders into execution--to curry favor with the men (by whom they werechosen, and on whose smile they may possibly think that they may againrely) seems to be one of the principal objects of their attention. I have made a pretty good slam amongst such kind of officers as theMassachusetts government abounds in, since I came into this camp, having broke one colonel and two captains for cowardly behavior inthe action on Bunker Hill, two captains for drawing more pay andprovisions than they had men in their company, and one for beingabsent from his post when the enemy appeared there and burnt a housejust by it. Besides these I have at this time one colonel, one major, one captain, and two subalterns under arrest for trial. In short, Ispare none, and yet fear it will not all do, as these people seem tobe too attentive to everything but their own interests. " This maybe plain and homely in phrase, but it is not stilted, and the quickenergy of the words shows how the New England farmers and fishermenwere being rapidly brought to discipline. Bringing the army intoorder, however, was but a small part of his duties. It is necessaryto run over all his difficulties, great and small, at this time, andcount them up, in order to gain a just idea of the force and capacityof the man who overcame them. 

Washington, in the first place, was obliged to deal not only with hisarmy, but with the general congress and the congress of the province. He had to teach them, utterly ignorant as they were of the needs anddetails of war, how to organize and supply their armies. There was nocommissary department, there were no uniforms, no arrangements forammunition, no small arms, no cannon, no resources to draw upon forall these necessaries of war. Little by little he taught Congressto provide after a fashion for these things, little by little hedeveloped what he needed, and by his own ingenuity, and by seizingalertly every suggestion from others, he supplied for better or worseone deficiency after another. He had to deal with various governorsand various colonies, each with its prejudices, jealousies, andshortcomings. He had to arrange for new levies from a people unusedto war, and to settle with infinite anxiety and much wear and tear ofmind and body, the conflict as to rank among officers to whom he couldapply no test but his own insight. He had to organize and stimulatethe arming of privateers, which, by preying on British commerce, weredestined to exercise such a powerful influence on the fate of the war. It was neither showy nor attractive, such work as this, but it wasvery vital, and it was done. 

By the end of July the army was in a better posture of defense;and then at the beginning of the next month, as the prospect wasbrightening, it was suddenly discovered that there was no gunpowder. An undrilled army, imperfectly organized, was facing a disciplinedforce and had only some nine rounds in the cartridge-boxes. Yet thereis no quivering in the letters from headquarters. Anxiety and strainof nerve are apparent; but a resolute determination rises over all, supported by a ready fertility of resource. Couriers flew over thecountry asking for powder in every town and in every village. A vesselwas even dispatched to the Bermudas to seize there a supply of powder, of which the general, always listening, had heard. Thus the immediateand grinding pressure was presently relieved, but the staple of warstill remained pitifully and perilously meagre all through the winter. 

Meantime, while thus overwhelmed with the cares immediately about him, Washington was watching the rest of the country. He had a keen eyeupon Johnson and his Indians in the valley of the Mohawk; he followedsharply every movement of Tryon and the Tories in New York; he refusedwith stern good sense to detach troops to Connecticut and Long Island, knowing well when to give and when to say No, a difficult monosyllablefor the new general of freshly revolted colonies. But if he would notdetach in one place, he was ready enough to do so in another. He sentone expedition by Lake Champlain, under Montgomery, to Montreal, andgave Arnold picked troops to march through the wilds of Maine andstrike Quebec. The scheme was bold and brilliant, both in conceptionand in execution, and came very near severing Canada forever from theBritish crown. A chapter of little accidents, each one of which provedas fatal as it was unavoidable, a moment's delay on the Plains ofAbraham, and the whole campaign failed; but there was a grasp ofconditions, a clearness of perception, and a comprehensiveness aboutthe plan, which stamp it as the work of a great soldier, who sawbesides the military importance, the enormous political value held outby the chance of such a victory. 

The daring, far-reaching quality of this Canadian expedition was muchmore congenial to Washington's temper and character than the wearingwork of the siege. All that man could do before Boston was done, andstill Congress expected the impossible, and grumbled because withoutships he did not secure the harbor. He himself, while he inwardlyresented such criticism, chafed under the monotonous drudgery of theintrenchments. He was longing, according to his nature, to fight, andwas, it must be confessed, quite ready to attempt the impossible inhis own way. Early in September he proposed to attack the town inboats and by the neck of land at Roxbury, but the council of officersunanimously voted against him. A little more than a month later heplanned another attack, and was again voted down by his officers. Councils of war never fight, it is said, and perhaps in this caseit was well that such was their habit, for the schemes look ratherdesperate now. To us they serve to show the temper of the man, andalso his self-control in this respect at the beginning of the war, forWashington became ready enough afterwards to override councils when hewas wholly free from doubt himself. 

Thus the planning of campaigns, both distant and near, went on, and atthe same time the current of details, difficult, vital, absolute indemanding prompt and vigorous solution, went on too. The existence ofwar made it necessary to fix our relations with our enemies, and thatthese relations should be rightly settled was of vast moment to ourcause, struggling for recognition. The first question was the matterof prisoners, and on August 11 Washington wrote to Gage:--

"I understand that the officers engaged in the cause of liberty andtheir country, who by the fortune of war have fallen into your hands, have been thrown indiscriminately into a common gaol appropriatedfor felons; that no consideration has been had for those of the mostrespectable rank, when languishing with wounds and sickness; and thatsome have been even amputated in this unworthy situation. 

"Let your opinion, sir, of the principle which actuates them be whatit may, they suppose that they act from the noblest of all principles, a love of freedom and their country. But political principles, Iconceive, are foreign to this point. The obligations arising from therights of humanity and claims of rank are universally binding andextensive, except in case of retaliation. These, I should have hoped, would have dictated a more tender treatment of those individuals whomchance or war had put in your power. Nor can I forbear suggestingits fatal tendency to widen that unhappy breach which you, and thoseministers under whom you act, have repeatedly declared your wish is tosee forever closed. 

"My duty now makes it necessary to apprise you, that for the future Ishall regulate all my conduct towards those gentlemen who are or maybe in our possession, exactly by the rule you shall observe towardsthose of ours now in your custody. 

"If severity and hardship mark the line of your conduct, painful as itmay be to me, your prisoners will feel its effects. But if kindnessand humanity are shown to ours, I shall with pleasure consider thosein our hands only as unfortunate, and they shall receive from me thattreatment to which the unfortunate are ever entitled. "

This is a letter worthy of a little study. The affair does not lookvery important now, but it went then to the roots of things; for thisletter would go out to the world, and America and the American causewould be judged by their leader. A little bluster or ferocity, anyfine writing, or any absurdity, and the world would have sneered, condemned, or laughed. But no man could read this letter and fail toperceive that here was dignity and force, justice and sense, with justa touch of pathos and eloquence to recommend it to the heart. Menmight differ with the writer, but they could neither laugh at him norset him aside. 

Gage replied after his kind. He was an inconsiderable person, dulland well meaning, intended for the command of a garrison town, and terribly twisted and torn by the great events in which he wasmomentarily caught. His masters were stupid and arrogant, and heimitated them with perfect success, except that arrogance with himdwindled to impertinence. He answered Washington's letter with denialsand recriminations, lectured the American general on the politicalsituation, and talked about "usurped authority, " "rebels, ""criminals, " and persons destined to the "cord. " Washington, being aman of his word, proceeded to put some English prisoners into jail, and then wrote a second note, giving Gage a little lesson in manners, with the vain hope of making him see that gentlemen did not scoldand vituperate because they fought. He restated his case calmlyand coolly, as before, informed Gage that he had investigated thecounter-charge of cruelty and found it without any foundation, andthen continued: "You advise me to give free operation to truth, andto punish misrepresentation and falsehood. If experience stamps valueupon counsel, yours must have a weight which few can claim. You bestcan tell how far the convulsion, which has brought such ruin on bothcountries, and shaken the mighty empire of Britain to its foundation, may be traced to these malignant causes. 

"You affect, sir, to despise all rank not derived from the same sourcewith your own. I cannot conceive one more honorable than that whichflows from the uncorrupted choice of a brave and free people, thepurest source and original fountain of all power. Far from making it aplea for cruelty, a mind of true magnanimity and enlarged ideas wouldcomprehend and respect it. "

Washington had grasped instinctively the general truth that Englishmenare prone to mistake civility for servility, and become offensive, whereas if they are treated with indifference, rebuke, or evenrudeness, they are apt to be respectful and polite. He was obliged togo over the same ground with Sir William Howe, a little later, andstill more sharply; and this matter of prisoners recurred, although atlonger and longer intervals, throughout the war. But as the Britishgenerals saw their officers go to jail, and found that their impudenceand assumption were met by keen reproofs, they gradually comprehendedthat Washington was not a man to be trifled with, and that in himwas a pride and dignity out-topping theirs and far stronger, becausegrounded on responsibility borne and work done, and on the deep senseof a great and righteous cause. 

It was probably a pleasure and a relief to give to Gage and SirWilliam Howe a little instruction in military behavior and generalgood manners, but there was nothing save infinite vexation in dealingwith the difficulties arising on the American side of the line. As thedays shortened and the leaves fell, Washington saw before him a NewEngland winter, with no clothing and no money for his troops. Throughlong letters to Congress, and strenuous personal efforts, thesewants were somehow supplied. Then the men began to get restless andhomesick, and both privates and officers would disappear to theirfarms, which Washington, always impatient of wrongdoing, styled "baseand pernicious conduct, " and punished accordingly. By and by the termsof enlistment ran out and the regiments began to melt away even beforethe proper date. Recruiting was carried on slowly and with difficulty, new levies were tardy in coming in, and Congress could not bepersuaded to stop limited enlistments. Still the task was done. Theold army departed and a new one arose in its place, the posts werestrengthened and ammunition secured. 

Among these reinforcements came some Virginia riflemen, and it musthave warmed Washington's heart to see once more these brave and hardyfighters in the familiar hunting shirt and leggins. They certainlymade him warm in a very different sense by getting into arough-and-tumble fight one winter's day with some Marbleheadfishermen. The quarrel was at its height, when suddenly into the brawlrode the commander-in-chief. He quickly dismounted, seized two of thecombatants, shook them, berated them, if tradition may be trusted, for their local jealousies, and so with strong arm quelled thedisturbance. He must have longed to take more than one colonialgovernor or magnate by the throat and shake him soundly, as he did hissoldiers from the woods of Virginia and the rocks of Marblehead, forto his temper there was nothing so satisfying as rapid and decisiveaction. But he could not quell governors and assemblies in this way, and yet he managed them and got what he wanted with a patience andtact which it must have been in the last degree trying to him topractice, gifted as he was with a nature at once masterful andpassionate. 

Another trial was brought about by his securing and sending outprivateers which did good service. They brought in many valuableprizes which caused infinite trouble, and forced Washington not onlyto be a naval secretary, but also made him a species of admiraltyjudge. He implored the slow-moving Congress to relieve him from thisburden, and suggested a plan which led to the formation of specialcommittees and was the origin of the Federal judiciary of the UnitedStates. Besides the local jealousies and the personal jealousies, andthe privateers and their prizes, he had to meet also the greed andselfishness as well of the money-making, stock-jobbing spirit whichsprings up rankly under the influence of army contracts and largeexpenditures among a people accustomed to trade and unused to war. Washington wrote savagely of these practices, but still, despite allhindrances and annoyances, he kept moving straight on to his object. 

In the midst of his labors, harassed and tried in all ways, he wasassailed as usual by complaint and criticism. Some of it came to himthrough his friend and aide, Joseph Reed, to whom he wrote in replyone of the noblest letters ever penned by a great man struggling withadverse circumstances and wringing victory from grudging fortune. Hesaid that he was always ready to welcome criticism, hear advice, andlearn the opinion of the world. "For as I have but one capital objectin view, I could wish to make my conduct coincide with the wishes ofmankind, as far as I can consistently; I mean, without departing fromthat great line of duty which, though hid under a cloud for sometime, from a peculiarity of circumstances, may, nevertheless, beara scrutiny. " Thus he held fast to "the great line of duty, " thoughbitterly tried the while by the news from Canada, where brilliantbeginnings were coming to dismal endings, and cheered only by thearrival of his wife, who drove up one day in her coach and four, withthe horses ridden by black postilions in scarlet and white liveries, much to the amazement, no doubt, of the sober-minded New England folk. 

Light, however, finally began to break on the work about him. HenryKnox, sent out for that purpose, returned safely with the gunscaptured at Ticonderoga, and thus heavy ordnance and gunpowder wereobtained. By the middle of February the harbor was frozen over, andWashington arranged to cross the ice and carry Boston by storm. Again he was held back by his council, but this time he could not bestopped. If he could not cross the ice he would go by land. He hadbeen slowly but surely advancing his works all winter, and now hedetermined on a decisive stroke. On the evening of Monday, March4, under cover of a heavy bombardment which distracted the enemy'sattention, he marched a large body of troops to Dorchester Heightsand began to throw up redoubts. The work went forward rapidly, andWashington rode about all night encouraging the men. The New Englandsoldiers had sorely tried his temper, and there were many severeattacks and bitter criticisms upon them in his letters, which weresuppressed or smoothed over for the most part by Mr. Sparks, butwhich have come to light since, as is sometimes the case with facts. Gradually, however, the General had come to know his soldiers better, and six months later he wrote to Lund Washington, praising hisnorthern troops in the highest terms. Even now he understood them asnever before, and as he watched them on that raw March night, workingwith the energy and quick intelligence of their race, he probably feltthat the defects were superficial, but the virtues, the tenacity, andthe courage were lasting and strong. 

When day dawned, and the British caught sight of the formidable workswhich had sprung up in the night, there was a great excitement andrunning hither and thither in the town. Still the men on the heightsworked on, and still Washington rode back and forth among them. He wasstirred and greatly rejoiced at the coming of the fight, which he nowbelieved inevitable, and as always, when he was deeply moved, thehidden springs of sentiment and passion were opened, and he remindedhis soldiers that it was the anniversary of the Boston massacre, andappealed to them by the memories of that day to prepare for battlewith the enemy. As with the Huguenots at Ivry, --

 "Remember St. Bartholomew was passed from man to man. "

But the fighting never came. The British troops were made ready, thena gale arose and they could not cross the bay. The next day itrained in torrents, and the next day it was too late. The Americanintrenchments frowned threateningly above the town, and began to sendin certain ominous messengers in the shape of shot and shell. Theplace was now so clearly untenable that Howe determined to evacuateit. An informal request to allow the troops to depart unmolested wasnot answered, but Washington suspended his fire and the British madeready to withdraw. Still they hesitated and delayed, until Washingtonagain advanced his works, and on this hint they started in earnest, onMarch 17, amid confusion, pillage, and disorder, leaving cannon andmuch else behind them, and seeking refuge in their ships. 

All was over, and the town was in the hands of the Americans. InWashington's own words, "To maintain a post within musket-shot of theenemy for six months together, without powder, and at the same timeto disband one army and recruit another within that distance oftwenty-odd British regiments, is more, probably, than ever wasattempted. " It was, in truth, a gallant feat of arms, carried throughby the resolute will and strong brain of one man. The troops onboth sides were brave, but the British had advantages far more thancompensating for a disparity of numbers, always slight and oftenmore imaginary than real. They had twelve thousand men, experienced, disciplined, equipped, and thoroughly supplied. They had the best armsand cannon and gunpowder. They commanded the sea with a strong fleet, and they were concentrated on the inside line, able to strike withsuddenness and overwhelming force at any point of widely extendedposts. Washington caught them with an iron grip and tightened itsteadily until, in disorderly haste, they took to their boats withouteven striking a blow. Washington's great abilities, and the incapacityof the generals opposed to him, were the causes of this result. IfRobert Clive, for instance, had chanced to have been there the endmight possibly have been the same, but there would have been somebloody fighting before that end was reached. The explanation of thefeeble abandonment of Boston lies in the stupidity of the Englishgovernment, which had sown the wind and then proceeded to handle thecustomary crop with equal fatuity. 

There were plenty of great men in England, but they were notconducting her government or her armies. Lord Sandwich had declaredin the House of Lords that all "Yankees were cowards, " a simple andsatisfactory statement, readily accepted by the governing classes, andflung in the teeth of the British soldiers as they fell back twicefrom the bloody slopes of Bunker Hill. Acting on this pleasant idea, England sent out as commanders of her American army a parcel ofministerial and court favorites, thoroughly second-rate men, to whomwas confided the task of beating one of the best soldiers and hardestfighters of the century. Despite the enormous material odds in favorof Great Britain, the natural result of matching the Howes and Gagesand Clintons against George Washington ensued, and the first lessonwas taught by the evacuation of Boston. 

Washington did not linger over his victory. Even while the Britishfleet still hung about the harbor he began to send troops to New Yorkto make ready for the next attack. He entered Boston in order to seethat every precaution was taken against the spread of the smallpox, and then prepared to depart himself. Two ideas, during his firstwinter of conflict, had taken possession of his mind, and undoubtedlyinfluenced profoundly his future course. One was the conviction thatthe struggle must be fought out to the bitter end, and must bringeither subjugation or complete independence. He wrote in February:"With respect to myself, I have never entertained an idea of anaccommodation, since I heard of the measures which were adopted inconsequence of the Bunker's Hill fight;" and at an earlier date hesaid: "I hope my countrymen (of Virginia) will rise superior to anylosses the whole navy of Great Britain can bring on them, and that thedestruction of Norfolk and threatened devastation of other placeswill have no other effect than to unite the whole country in oneindissoluble band against a nation which seems to be lost to everysense of virtue and those feelings which distinguish a civilizedpeople from the most barbarous savages. " With such thoughts hesought to make Congress appreciate the probable long duration of thestruggle, and he bent every energy to giving permanency to his army, and decisiveness to each campaign. The other idea which had grown inhis mind during the weary siege was that the Tories were thoroughlydangerous and deserved scant mercy. In his second letter to Gage herefers to them, with the frankness which characterized him when hefelt strongly, as "execrable parricides, " and he made ready totreat them with the utmost severity at New York and elsewhere. WhenWashington was aroused there was a stern and relentless side to hischaracter, in keeping with the force and strength which were his chiefqualities. His attitude on this point seems harsh now when theold Tories no longer look very dreadful and we can appreciate thesincerity of conviction which no doubt controlled most of them. Butthey were dangerous then, and Washington, with his honest hatred ofall that seemed to him to partake of meanness or treason, proposed toput them down and render them harmless, being well convinced, afterhis clear-sighted fashion, that war was not peace, and that mildnessto domestic foes was sadly misplaced. 

His errand to New England was now done and well done. His victory waswon, everything was settled at Boston; and so, having sent his armyforward, he started for New York, to meet the harder trials that stillawaited him. 

CHAPTER VI

SAVING THE REVOLUTION

After leaving Boston, Washington proceeded through Rhode Island andConnecticut, pushing troops forward as he advanced, and reached NewYork on April 13. There he found himself plunged at once into the samesea of difficulties with which he had been struggling at Boston, theonly difference being that these were fresh and entirely untouched. The army was inadequate, and the town, which was the central pointof the colonies, as well as the great river at its side, was whollyunprotected. The troops were in large measure raw and undrilled, thecommittee of safety was hesitating, the Tories were virulent andactive, corresponding constantly with Tryon, who was lurking in aBritish man-of-war, while from the north came tidings of retreatand disaster. All these harassing difficulties crowded upon thecommander-in-chief as soon as he arrived. To appreciate him it isnecessary to understand these conditions and realize their weight andconsequence, albeit the details seem petty. When we comprehend thedifficulties, then we can see plainly the greatness of the man whoquietly and silently took them up and disposed of them. Some hescotched and some he killed, but he dealt with them all after afashion sufficient to enable him to move steadily forward. In hispresence the provincial committee suddenly stiffened and grew strong. All correspondence with Tryon was cut off, the Tories were repressed, and on Long Island steps were taken to root out "these abominablepests of society, " as the commander-in-chief called them in hisplain-spoken way. Then forts were built, soldiers energeticallyrecruited and drilled, arrangements made for prisoners, and despiteall the present cares anxious thought was given to the Canadacampaign, and ideas and expeditions, orders, suggestions, andencouragement were freely furnished to the dispirited generals andbroken forces of the north. 

One matter, however, overshadowed all others. Nearly a year before, Washington had seen that there was no prospect or possibility ofaccommodation with Great Britain. It was plain to his mind that thestruggle was final in its character and would be decisive. Separationfrom the mother country, therefore, ought to come at once, so thatpublic opinion might be concentrated, and above all, permanency oughtto be given to the army. These ideas he had been striving to impressupon Congress, for the most part less clearsighted than he was as tofacts, and as the months slipped by his letters had grown constantlymore earnest and more vehement. Still Congress hesitated, and at lastWashington went himself to Philadelphia and held conferences withthe principal men. What he said is lost, but the tone of Congresscertainly rose after his visit. The aggressive leaders found theirhands so much strengthened that little more than a month later theycarried through a declaration of independence, which was solemnly andgratefully proclaimed to the army by the general, much relieved tohave got through the necessary boat-burning, and to have broughtaffairs, military and political, on to the hard ground of actual fact. 

Soon after his return from Philadelphia, he received convincingproof that his views in regard to the Tories were extremely sound. A conspiracy devised by Tryon, which aimed apparently at theassassination of the commander-in-chief, and which had corrupted hislife-guards for that purpose, was discovered and scattered before ithad fairly hardened into definite form. The mayor of the city andvarious other persons were seized and thrown into prison, and one ofthe life-guards, Thomas Hickey by name, who was the principal tool inthe plot, was hanged in the presence of a large concourse of people. Washington wrote a brief and business-like account of the affair toCongress, from which one would hardly suppose that his own life hadbeen aimed at. It is a curious instance of his cool indifference topersonal danger. The conspiracy had failed, that was sufficient forhim, and he had other things besides himself to consider. "We expecta bloody summer in New York and Canada, " he wrote to his brother, andeven while the Canadian expedition was coming to a disastrous close, and was bringing hostile invasion instead of the hoped-for conquest, British men-of-war were arriving daily in the harbor, and a large armywas collecting on Staten Island. The rejoicings over the Declarationof Independence had hardly died away, when the vessels of the enemymade their way up the Hudson without check from the embryo forts, orthe obstacles placed in the stream. 

July 12 Lord Howe arrived with more troops, and also with amplepowers to pardon and negotiate. Almost immediately he tried to opena correspondence with Washington, but Colonel Reed, in behalf of theGeneral, refused to receive the letter addressed to "Mr. Washington. "Then Lord Howe sent an officer to the American camp with a secondletter, addressed to "George Washington, Esq. , etc. , etc. " The bearerwas courteously received, but the letter was declined. "The etc. , etc. Implies everything, " said the Englishman. It may also mean "anything, "Washington replied, and added that touching the pardoning power ofLord Howe there could be no pardon where there was no guilt, and whereno forgiveness was asked. As a result of these interviews, Lord Howewrote to England that it would be well to give Mr. Washington hisproper title. A small question, apparently, this of the form ofaddress, especially to a lover of facts, and yet it was in realityof genuine importance. To the world Washington represented the youngrepublic, and he was determined to extort from England the firstacknowledgment of independence by compelling her to recognize theAmericans as belligerents and not rebels. Washington cared as littlefor vain shows as any man who ever lived, but he had the highest senseof personal dignity, and of the dignity of his cause and country. Neither should be allowed to suffer in his hands. He appreciated theeffect on mankind of forms and titles, and with unerring judgmenthe insisted on what he knew to be of real value. It is one of theearliest examples of the dignity and good taste which were of suchinestimable value to his country. 

He had abundant occasion also for the employment of these samequalities, coupled with unwearied patience and tact, in dealing withhis own men. The present army was drawn from a wider range than thatwhich had taken Boston, and sectional jealousies and disputes, growingevery day more hateful to the commander-in-chief, sprang up rankly. The men of Maryland thought those of Connecticut ploughboys; thelatter held the former to be fops and dandies. These and a hundredother disputes buzzed and whirled about Washington, stirring hisstrong temper, and exercising his sternest self-control in theuntiring effort to suppress them and put them to death. "Itrequires, " John Adams truly said, "more serenity of temper, a deeperunderstanding, and more courage than fell to the lot of Marlborough, to ride in this whirlwind. " Fortunately these qualities were allthere, and with them an honesty of purpose and an unbending directnessof character to which Anne's great general was a stranger. 

Meantime, while the internal difficulties were slowly diminished, theforces of the enemy rapidly increased. First it became evident thatattacks were not feasible. Then the question changed to a mere choiceof defenses. Even as to this there was great and harassing doubt, forthe enemy, having command of the water, could concentrate and attackat any point they pleased. Moreover, the British had thirty thousandof the best disciplined and best equipped troops that Europe couldfurnish, while Washington had some twenty thousand men, one fourth ofwhom were unfit for duty, and with the remaining three fourths, rawrecruits for the most part, he was obliged to defend an extended lineof posts, without cavalry, and with no means for rapid concentration. Had he been governed solely by military considerations he would haveremoved the inhabitants, burned New York, and drawing his forcestogether would have taken up a secure post of observation. To havedestroyed the town, however, not only would have frightened the timidand the doubters, and driven them over to the Tories, but would havedispirited the patriots not yet alive to the exigencies of war, anddeeply injured the American cause. That Washington well understood theneed of such action is clear, both from the current rumors that thetown was to be burned, and from his expressed desire to remove thewomen and children from New York. But political considerationsoverruled the military necessity, and he spared the town. It was badenough to be thus hampered, but he was even more fettered in otherways, for he could not even concentrate his forces and withdraw to theHighlands without a battle, as he was obliged to fight in order tosustain public feeling, and thus he was driven on to almost suredefeat. With Brooklyn Heights in the hands of the enemy New York wasuntenable, and yet it was obvious that to hold Brooklyn when the enemycontrolled the sea was inviting defeat. Yet Washington under theexisting conditions had no choice except to fight on Long Island andto say that he hoped to make a good defense. 

Everything, too, as the day of battle drew near, seemed to makeagainst him. On August 22 the enemy began to land on Long Island, where Greene had drawn a strong line of redoubts behind the village ofBrooklyn, to defend the heights which commanded New York, and had madeevery arrangement to protect the three roads through the wooded hills, about a mile from the intrenchments. Most unfortunately, and just atthe critical moment, Greene was taken down with a raging fever, sothat when Washington came over on the 24th he found much confusion inthe camps, which he repressed as best he could, and then prepared forthe attack. Greene's illness, however, had caused some oversightswhich were unknown to the commander-in-chief, and which, as it turnedout, proved fatal. 

After indecisive skirmishing for two or three days, the Britishstarted early on the morning of the 26th. They had nine thousand menand were well informed as to the country. Advancing through woodpathsand lanes, they came round to the left flank of the Americans. Oneof the roads through the hills was unguarded, the others feeblyprotected. The result is soon told. The Americans, out-generaled andout-flanked, were taken by surprise and surrounded, Sullivan andhis division were cut off, and then Lord Stirling. There was somedesperate fighting, and the Americans showed plenty of courage, butonly a few forced their way out. Most of them were killed or takenprisoners, the total loss out of some five thousand men reaching ashigh as two thousand. 

From the redoubts, whither he had come at the sound of the firing, Washington watched the slaughter and disaster in grim silence. He sawthe British troops, flushed with victory, press on to the very edgeof his works and then withdraw in obedience to command. The Britishgenerals had their prey so surely, as they believed, that theymercifully decided not to waste life unnecessarily by storming theworks in the first glow of success. So they waited during thatnight and the two following days, while Washington strengthened hisintrenchments, brought over reinforcements, and prepared for theworst. On the 29th it became apparent that there was a movement in thefleet, and that arrangements were being made to take the Americans inthe rear and wholly cut them off. It was an obvious and sensible plan, but the British overlooked the fact that while they were lingering, summing up their victory, and counting the future as assured, therewas a silent watchful man on the other side of the redoubts who forforty-eight hours never left the lines, and who with a great capacityfor stubborn fighting could move, when the stress came, with thecelerity and stealth of a panther. 

Washington swiftly determined to retreat. It was a desperateundertaking, and a lesser man would have hesitated and been lost. Hehad to transport nine thousand men across a strait of strong tides andcurrents, and three quarters of a mile in width. It was necessary tocollect the boats from a distance, and do it all within sight andhearing of the enemy. The boats were obtained, a thick mist settleddown on sea and land, the water was calm, and as the night wore away, the entire army with all its arms and baggage was carried over, Washington leaving in the last boat. At daybreak the British awoke, but it was too late. They had fought a successful battle, they had hadthe American army in their grasp, and now all was over. The victoryhad melted away, and, as a grand result, they had a few hundredprisoners, a stray boat with three camp-followers, and the desertedworks in which they stood. To grasp so surely the happy chance of windand weather and make such a retreat as this was a feat of arms asgreat as most victories, and in it we see, perhaps as plainly asanywhere, the nerve and quickness of the man who conducted it. It istrue, it was the only chance of salvation, but the great man is he whois entirely master of his opportunity, even if he have but one. 

The outlook, nevertheless, was, as Washington wrote, "trulydistressing. " The troops were dispirited, and the militia began todisappear, as they always did after a defeat. Congress would notpermit the destruction of the city, different interests pulled indifferent directions, conflicting opinions distracted the councilsof war, and, with utter inability to predict the enemy's movements, everything led to halfway measures and to intense anxiety, while LordHowe tried to negotiate with Congress, and the Americans waited forevents. Washington, looking beyond the confusion of the moment, sawthat he had gained much by delay, and had his own plan well defined. He wrote: "We have not only delayed the operations of the campaigntill it is too late to effect any capital incursion into the country, but have drawn the enemy's forces to one point. .. . It would bepresumption to draw out our young troops into open ground againsttheir superiors both in number and discipline, and I have never sparedthe spade and pickaxe. " Every one else, however, saw only past defeatand present peril. 

The British ships gradually made their way up the river, until itbecame apparent that they intended to surround and cut off theAmerican army. Washington made preparations to withdraw, butuncertainty of information came near rendering his precautions futile. September 15 the men-of-war opened fire, and troops were landed nearKip's Bay. The militia in the breastworks at that point had beenat Brooklyn and gave way at once, communicating their panic to twoConnecticut regiments. Washington, galloping down to the scene ofbattle, came upon the disordered and flying troops. He dashed in amongthem, conjuring them to stop, but even while he was trying to rallythem they broke again on the appearance of some sixty or seventy ofthe enemy, and ran in all directions. In a tempest of anger Washingtondrew his pistols, struck the fugitives with his sword, and was onlyforced from the field by one of his officers seizing the bridle of hishorse and dragging him away from the British, now within a hundredyards of the spot. 

Through all his trials and anxieties Washington always showed thebroadest and most generous sympathy. When the militia had begun toleave him a few days before, although he despised their action andprotested bitterly to Congress against their employment, yet in hisletters he displayed a keen appreciation of their feelings, and sawplainly every palliation and excuse. But there was one thing whichhe could never appreciate nor realize. It was from first to lastimpossible for him to understand how any man could refuse to fight, orcould think of running away. When he beheld rout and cowardly panicbefore his very eyes, his temper broke loose and ran uncontrolled. Hisone thought then was to fight to the last, and he would have thrownhimself single-handed on the enemy, with all his wisdom and prudenceflung to the winds. The day when the commander held his place merelyby virtue of personal prowess lay far back in the centuries, and noone knew it better than Washington. But the old fighting spirit awokewithin him when the clash of arms sounded in his ears, and though wemay know the general in the tent and in the council, we can only knowthe man when he breaks out from all rules and customs, and shows therage of battle, and the indomitable eagerness for the fray, which lieat the bottom of the tenacity and courage that carried the war forindependence to a triumphant close. 

The rout and panic over, Washington quickly turned to deal with thepressing danger. With coolness and quickness he issued his orders, andsucceeded in getting his army off, Putnam's division escaping mostnarrowly. He then took post at King's Bridge, and began to strengthenand fortify his lines. While thus engaged, the enemy advanced, andon the 16th Washington suddenly took the offensive and attacked theBritish light troops. The result was a sharp skirmish, in which theBritish were driven back with serious loss, and great bravery wasshown by the Connecticut and Virginia troops, the two commandingofficers being killed. This affair, which was the first gleam ofsuccess, encouraged the troops, and was turned to the best account bythe general. Still a successful skirmish did not touch the essentialdifficulties of the situation, which then as always came fromwithin, rather than without. To face and check twenty-five thousandwell-equipped and highly disciplined soldiers Washington had now sometwelve thousand men, lacking in everything which goes to make an army, except mere individual courage and a high average of intelligence. Even this meagre force was an inconstant and diminishing quantity, shifting, uncertain, and always threatening dissolution. 

The task of facing and fighting the enemy was enough for the ablestof men; but Washington was obliged also to combat and overcome theinertness and dullness born of ignorance, and to teach Congress how togovern a nation at war. In the hours "allotted to sleep, " he sat inhis headquarters, writing a letter, with "blots and scratches, " whichtold Congress with the utmost precision and vigor just what wasneeded. It was but one of a long series of similar letters, writtenwith unconquerable patience and with unwearied iteration, lighted hereand there by flashes of deep and angry feeling, which would finallystrike home under the pressure of defeat, and bring the patriots ofthe legislature to sudden action, always incomplete, but still actionof some sort. It must have been inexpressibly dreary work, but quiteas much was due to those letters as to the battles. Thinking for otherpeople, and teaching them what to do, is at best an ungrateful duty, but when it is done while an enemy is at your throat, it shows a grimtenacity of purpose which is well worth consideration. 

In this instance the letter of September 24, read in the light of thebattles of Long Island and Kip's Bay, had a considerable effect. Thefirst steps were taken to make the army national and permanent, toraise the pay of officers, and to lengthen enlistments. Like most ofthe war measures of Congress, they were too late for the immediatenecessity, but they helped the future. Congress, moreover, then feltthat all had been done that could be demanded, and relapsed once moreinto confidence. "The British force, " said John Adams, chairman of theboard of war, "is so divided, they will do no great matter thisfall. " But Washington, facing hard facts, wrote to Congress with hisunsparing truth on October 4: "Give me leave to say, sir, (I say itwith due deference and respect, and my knowledge of the facts, addedto the importance of the cause and the stake I hold in it, mustjustify the freedom, ) that your affairs are in a more unpromising waythan you seem to apprehend. Your army, as I mentioned in my last, ison the eve of its political dissolution. True it is, you have voteda larger one in lieu of it; but the season is late; and there is amaterial difference between voting battalions and raising men. "

The campaign as seen from the board of war and from the Plains ofHarlem differed widely. It is needless to say now which was correct;every one knows that the General was right and Congress wrong, butbeing in the right did not help Washington, nor did he take pettypleasure in being able to say, "I told you how it would be. " Thehard facts remained unchanged. There was the wholly patriotic butslumberous, and for fighting purposes quite inefficient Congress stillto be waked up and kept awake, and to be instructed. With painfuland plain-spoken repetition this work was grappled with and donemethodically, and like all else as effectively as was possible. 

Meanwhile the days slipped along, and Washington waited on the HarlemPlains, planning descents on Long Island, and determining to make adesperate stand where he was, unless the situation decidedly changed. Then the situation did change, as neither he nor any one elseapparently had anticipated. The British warships came up the Hudsonpast the forts, brushing aside our boasted obstructions, destroyingour little fleet, and getting command of the river. Then General Howelanded at Frog's Point, where he was checked for the moment by thegood disposition of Heath, under Washington's direction. These twoevents made it evident that the situation of the American army wasfull of peril, and that retreat was again necessary. Such certainlywas the conclusion of the council of war, on the 16th, acting thistime in agreement with their chief. Six days Howe lingered on Frog'sPoint, bringing up stores or artillery or something; it matters littlenow why he tarried. Suffice it that he waited, and gave six days tohis opponent. They were of little value to Howe, but they wereof inestimable worth to Washington, who employed them in gettingeverything in readiness, in holding his council of war, and then onthe 17th in moving deliberately off to very strong ground at WhitePlains. On his way he fought two or three slight, sharp, andsuccessful skirmishes with the British. Sir William followed closely, but with much caution, having now a dull glimmer in his mind that atthe head of the raw troops in front of him was a man with whom it wasnot safe to be entirely careless. 

On the 28th, Howe came up to Washington's position, and found theAmericans quite equal in numbers, strongly intrenched, and awaitinghis attack with confidence. He hesitated, doubted, and finally feelingthat he must do something, sent four thousand men to storm ChattertonHill, an outlying post, where some fourteen hundred Americans werestationed. There was a short, sharp action, and then the Americansretreated in good order to the main army, having lost less than halfas many men as their opponents. With caution now much enlarged, Howesent for reinforcements, and waited two days. The third day it rained, and on the fourth Howe found that Washington had withdrawn to a higherand quite impregnable line of hills, where he held all the passes inthe rear and awaited a second attack. Howe contemplated the situationfor two or three days longer, and then broke camp and withdrew toDobbs Ferry to secure Fort Washington, which treachery offered him asan easy and inviting prize. Such were the great results of the victoryof Long Island, two wasted months, and the American army stilluntouched. 

Howe was resolved that his campaign should not be utterly fruitless, and therefore directed his attention to the defenses of the Hudson, and here he met with better success. Congress, in its military wisdom, had insisted that these forts must and could be held. So thought thegenerals, and so most especially, and most unluckily, did Greene. Washington, with his usual accurate and keen perception, saw, from thetime the men-of-war came up the Hudson, and, now that the Britisharmy was free, more clearly than ever, that both forts ought to beabandoned. Sure of his ground, he overruled Congress, but was so farinfluenced by Greene that he gave to that officer discretionary ordersas to withdrawal. This was an act of weakness, as he afterwardsadmitted, for which he bitterly reproached himself, never confusing orglossing over his own errors, but loyal there, as elsewhere, to facts. An attempt was made to hold both forts, and both were lost, as hehad foreseen. From Fort Lee the garrison withdrew in safety. FortWashington, with its plans all in Howe's hands through the treacheryof William Demont, the adjutant of Colonel Magaw, was carried bystorm, after a severe struggle. Twenty-six hundred men and all themunitions of war fell into the hands of the enemy. It was a seriousand most depressing loss, and was felt throughout the continent. 

Meantime Washington had crossed info the Jerseys, and, after the lossof Fort Lee, began to retreat before the British, who, flushed withvictory, now advanced rapidly under Lord Cornwallis. The crisis of hisfate and of the Revolution was upon him. His army was melting away. The militia had almost all disappeared, and regiments whose term ofenlistment had expired were departing daily. Lee, who had a divisionunder his command, was ordered to come up, but paid no attention, although the orders were repeated almost every day for a month. Helingered, and loitered, and excused himself, and at last was takenprisoner. This disposed of him for a time very satisfactorily, butmeanwhile he had succeeded in keeping his troops from Washington, which was a most serious misfortune. 

On December 2 Washington was at Princeton with three thousand raggedmen, and the British close upon his heels. They had him now surelyin their grip. There could be no mistake this time, and there wastherefore no need of a forced march. But they had not yet learned thatto Washington even hours meant much, and when, after duly resting, they reached the Delaware, they found the Americans on the other side, and all the boats destroyed for a distance of seventy miles. 

It was winter now, the short gray days had come, and with thempiercing cold and storms of sleet and ice. It seemed as if theelements alone would finally disperse the feeble body of men stillgathered about the commander-in-chief. Congress had sent him blankcommissions and orders to recruit, which were well meant, but were notpractically of much value. As Glendower could call spirits from thevasty deep, so they, with like success, sought to call soldiers fromthe earth in the midst of defeat, and in the teeth of a North Americanwinter. Washington, baffling pursuit and flying from town to town, left nothing undone. North and south went letters and appeals for men, money, and supplies. Vain, very vain, it all was, for the most part, but still it was done in a tenacious spirit. Lee would not come, theJersey militia would not turn out, thousands began to accept Howe'samnesty, and signs of wavering were apparent in some of the MiddleStates. Philadelphia was threatened, Newport was in the hands of theenemy, and for ninety miles Washington had retreated, evading ruinagain and again only by the width of a river. Congress voted notto leave Philadelphia, --a fact which their General declined topublish, --and then fled. 

No one remained to face the grim realities of the time but Washington, and he met them unmoved. Not a moment passed that he did not seek insome way to effect something. Not an hour went by that he did not turncalmly from fresh and ever renewed disappointment to work and action. 

By the middle of December Howe felt satisfied that the American armywould soon dissolve, and leaving strong detachments in various postshe withdrew to New York. His premises were sound, and his conclusionslogical, but he made his usual mistake of overlooking andunderestimating the American general. No sooner was it known thathe was on his way to New York than Washington, at the head of hisdissolving army, resolved to take the offensive and strike an outlyingpost. In a letter of December 14, the day after Howe began to move, wecatch the first glimpse of Trenton. It was a bold spirit which, in thedead of winter, with a broken army, no prospect of reinforcements, andin the midst of a terror-stricken people, could thus resolve withsome four thousand men to attack an army thoroughly appointed, andnumbering in all its divisions twenty-five thousand soldiers. 

It is well to pause a moment and look at that situation, and at theoverwhelming difficulties which hemmed it in, and then try to realizewhat manner of man he was who rose superior to it, and conquered it. Be it remembered, too, that he never deceived himself, and never forone instant disguised the truth. Two years later he wrote that at thissupreme moment, in what were called "the dark days of America, " he wasnever despondent; and this was true enough, for despair was not in hisnature. But no delusions lent him courage. On the 18th he wrote to hisbrother "that if every nerve was not strained to recruit this new armythe game was pretty nearly up;" and added, "You can form no idea ofthe perplexity of my situation. No man, I believe, ever had a greaterchoice of difficulties, and less means to extricate himself from them. However, under a full persuasion of the justice of our cause, I cannotentertain an idea that it will finally sink, though it may remainfor some time under a cloud. " There is no complaint, no boasting, nodespair in this letter. We can detect a bitterness in the referencesto Congress and to Lee, but the tone of the letter is as calm as a Maymorning, and it concludes with sending love and good wishes to thewriter's sister and her family. 

Thus in the dreary winter Washington was planning and devising andsending hither and thither for men, and never ceased through it allto write urgent and ever sharper letters and keep a wary eye upon thefuture. He not only wrote strongly, but he pledged his own estate andexceeded his powers in desperate efforts to raise money and men. Onthe 20th he wrote to Congress: "It may be thought that I am going agood deal out of the line of my duty to adopt these measures, or toadvise thus freely. A character to lose, an estate to forfeit, theinestimable blessings of liberty at stake, and a life devoted, must bemy excuse. " Even now across the century these words come with a gravesolemnity to our ears, and we can feel as he felt when he alone sawthat he stood on the brink of a great crisis. It is an awful thing toknow that the life of a nation is at stake, and this thought throbs inhis words, measured and quiet as usual, but deeply fraught with muchmeaning to him and to the world. 

By Christmas all was ready, and when the Christian world was rejoicingand feasting, and the British officers in New York and in the NewJersey towns were reveling and laughing, Washington prepared tostrike. His whole force, broken into various detachments, was lessthan six thousand men. To each division was assigned, with providentforethought, its exact part. Nothing was overlooked, nothing omitted;and then every division commander failed, for good reason or bad, todo his duty. Gates was to march from Bristol with two thousandmen, Ewing was to cross at Trenton, Putnam was to come up fromPhiladelphia, Griffin was to make a diversion against Donop. Whenthe moment came, Gates, disapproving the scheme, was on his wayto Congress, and Wilkinson, with his message, found his way toheadquarters by following the bloody tracks of the barefootedsoldiers. Griffin abandoned New Jersey and fled before Donop. Putnamwould not even attempt to leave Philadelphia, and Ewing made no effortto cross at Trenton. Cadwalader, indeed, came down from Bristol, but after looking at the river and the floating ice, gave it up asdesperate. 

But there was one man who did not hesitate nor give up, nor halt onaccount of floating ice. With twenty-four hundred hardy veterans, Washington crossed the Delaware. The night was bitter cold and thepassage difficult. When they landed, and began their march of ninemiles to Trenton, a fierce storm of sleet drove in their faces. Sullivan; marching by the river, sent word that the arms of his menwere wet. "Then tell your general, " said Washington, "to use thebayonet, for the town must be taken. " In broad daylight they came tothe town. Washington, at the front and on the right of the line, sweptdown the Pennington road, and as he drove in the pickets he heard theshouts of Sullivan's men, as, with Stark leading the van, they chargedin from the river. A company of yägers and the light dragoons slippedaway, there was a little confused fighting in the streets, ColonelRahl fell, mortally wounded, his Hessians threw down their arms, andall was over. The battle had been fought and won, and the Revolutionwas saved. 

[Illustration: WASHINGTON CROSSING THE DELAWARE]

Taking his thousand prisoners with him, Washington recrossed theDelaware to his old position. Had all done their duty, as he hadplanned, the British hold on New Jersey would have been shattered. Asit was, it was only loosened. Congress, aroused at last, had investedWashington with almost dictatorial powers; but the time for action wasshort. The army was again melting away, and only by urgent appealswere some veterans retained, and enough new men gathered to make aforce of five thousand men. With this army Washington prepared tofinish what he had begun. 

Trenton struck alarm and dismay into the British, and Cornwallis, withseven thousand of the best troops, started from New York to redeemwhat had been lost. Leaving three regiments at Princeton, he pushedhotly after Washington, who fell back behind the Assunpink River, skirmishing heavily and successfully. When Cornwallis reached theriver he found the American army drawn up on the other side awaitinghim. An attack on the bridge was repulsed, and the prospect lookeduninviting. Some officers urged an immediate assault; but night wasfalling, and Cornwallis, sure of the game, decided to wait tillthe morrow. He, too, forgot that he was facing an enemy who neveroverlooked a mistake, and never waited an hour. With quick decisionWashington left his camp-fires burning on the river bank, and takingroundabout roads, which he had already reconnoitred, marched on toPrinceton. By sunrise he was in the outskirts of the town. Mercer, detached with some three hundred men, fell in with Mawhood's regiment, and a sharp action ensued. Mercer was mortally wounded, and his mengave way just as the main army came upon the field. The Britishcharged, and as the raw Pennsylvanian troops in the van wavered, Washington rode to the front, and reining his horse within thirtyyards of the British, ordered his men to advance. The volleys ofmusketry left him unscathed, the men stood firm, the other divisionscame rapidly into action, and the enemy gave way in all directions. The two other British regiments were driven through the town androuted. Had there been cavalry they would have been entirely cut off. As it was, they were completely broken, and in this short but bloodyaction they lost five hundred men in killed, wounded, and prisoners. It was too late to strike the magazines at Brunswick, as Washingtonhad intended, and so he withdrew once more with his army to the highlands to rest and recruit. 

His work was done, however. The country, which had been supine, andeven hostile, rose now, and the British were attacked, surprised, andcut off in all directions, until at last they were shut up in theimmediate vicinity of New York. The tide had been turned, andWashington had won the precious breathing-time which was all herequired. 

Frederick the Great is reported to have said that this was the mostbrilliant campaign of the century. It certainly showed all thecharacteristics of the highest strategy and most consummategeneralship. With a force numerically insignificant as compared withthat opposed to him, Washington won two decisive victories, strikingthe enemy suddenly with superior numbers at each point of attack. The Trenton campaign has all the quality of some of the last battlesfought by Napoleon in France before his retirement to Elba. Moreover, these battles show not only generalship of the first order, but greatstatesmanship. They display that prescient knowledge which recognizesthe supreme moment when all must be risked to save the state. ByTrenton and Princeton Washington inflicted deadly blows upon theenemy, but he did far more by reviving the patriotic spirit of thecountry fainting under the bitter experience of defeat, and by sendingfresh life and hope and courage throughout the whole people. 

It was the decisive moment of the war. Sooner or later the Americancolonies were sure to part from the mother-country, either peaceablyor violently. But there was nothing inevitable in the Revolution of1776, nor was its end at all certain. It was in the last extremitieswhen the British overran New Jersey, and if it had not been forWashington that particular revolution would have most surely failed. Its fate lay in the hands of the general and his army; and to thestrong brain growing ever keener and quicker as the pressure becamemore intense, to the iron will gathering a more relentless forceas defeat thickened, to the high, unbending character, and to thepassionate and fighting temper of Washington, we owe the brilliantcampaign which in the darkest hour turned the tide and saved the causeof the Revolution. 

CHAPTER VII

"MALICE DOMESTIC, AND FOREIGN LEVY"

After the "two lucky strokes at Trenton and Princeton, " as he himselfcalled them, Washington took up a strong position at Morristown andwaited. His plan was to hold the enemy in check, and to delay alloperations until spring. It is easy enough now to state his purpose, and it looks very simple, but it was a grim task to carry it outthrough the bleak winter days of 1777. The Jerseys farmers, spurred bythe sufferings inflicted upon them by the British troops, had turnedout at last in deference to Washington's appeals, after the victoriesof Trenton and Princeton, had harassed and cut off outlying parties, and had thus straitened the movements of the enemy. But the main armyof the colonies, on which all depended, was in a pitiable state. Itshifted its character almost from day to day. The curse of shortenlistments, so denounced by Washington, made itself felt now withfrightful effect. With the new year most of the continental troopsdeparted, while others to replace them came in very slowly, andrecruiting dragged most wearisomely. Washington was thus obliged, withtemporary reinforcements of raw militia, to keep up appearances; andno commander ever struggled with a more trying task. At times itlooked as if the whole army would actually disappear, and more thanonce Washington expected that the week's or the month's end would findhim with not more than five hundred men. At the beginning of March hehad about four thousand men, a few weeks later only three thousand rawtroops, ill-fed, ill-clad, ill-shod, ill-armed, and almost unpaid. Over against him was Howe, with eleven thousand men in the field, andstill more in the city of New York, well disciplined and equipped, well-armed, well-fed, and furnished with every needful supply. Thecontrast is absolutely grotesque, and yet the force of one man'sgenius and will was such that this excellent British army was hemmedin and kept in harmless quiet by their ragged opponents. 

Washington's plan, from the first, was to keep the field at allhazards, and literally at all hazards did he do so. Right and lefthis letters went, day after day, calling with pathetic but dignifiedearnestness for men and supplies. In one of these epistles, toGovernor Cooke of Rhode Island, written in January, to remonstrateagainst raising troops for the State only, he set forth his intentionsin a few words. "You must be sensible, " he said, "that the season isfast approaching when a new campaign will open; nay, the former is notyet closed; nor do I intend it shall be, unless the enemy quits theJerseys. " To keep fighting all the time, and never let the fire ofactive resistance flicker or die out, was Washington's theory of theway to maintain his own side and beat the enemy. If he could not fightbig battles, he would fight small ones; if he could not fight littlebattles, he would raid and skirmish and surprise; but fighting of somesort he would have, while the enemy attempted to spread over a Stateand hold possession of it. We can see the obstacles now, but we canonly wonder how they were sufficiently overcome to allow anything tobe done. 

Moreover, besides the purely physical difficulties in the lack of men, money, and supplies, there were others of a political and personalkind, which were even more wearing and trying, but which, nevertheless, had to be dealt with also, in some fashion. In order tosustain the courage of the people Washington was obliged to give out, and to allow it to be supposed, that he had more men than was reallythe case, and so Congress and various wise and well-meaning personsgrumbled because he did not do more and fight more battles. He neverdeceived Congress, but they either could not or would not understandthe actual situation. In March he wrote to Robert Morris: "Nor is itin my power to make Congress fully sensible of the real situationof our affairs, and that it is with difficulty, if I may use theexpression, that I can by every means in my power keep the life andsoul of this army together. In a word, when they are at a distance, they think it is but to say, _Presto, begone_, and everything is done. They seem not to have any conception of the difficulty and perplexityattending those who are to execute. " It was so easy to see what theywould like to have done, and so simple to pass a resolve to thateffect, that Congress never could appreciate the reality of thedifficulty and the danger until the hand of the enemy was almost attheir throats. They were not even content with delay and neglect, butinterfered actively at times, as in the matter of the exchange ofprisoners, where they made unending trouble for Washington, and showedthemselves unable to learn or to keep their hands off after any amountof instruction. 

In January Washington issued a proclamation requiring thoseinhabitants who had subscribed to Howe's declaration to come in withinthirty days and take the oath of allegiance to the United States. Ifthey failed to do so they were to be treated as enemies. The measurewas an eminently proper one, and the proclamation was couched in themost moderate language. It was impossible to permit a large classof persons to exist on the theory that they were peaceful Americancitizens and also subjects of King George. The results of such conductwere in every way perilous and intolerable, and Washington wasdetermined that he would divide the sheep from the goats, and knowwhom he was defending and whom attacking. Yet for this wise andnecessary action he was called in question in Congress and accused ofviolating civil rights and the resolves of Congress itself. Nothingwas actually done about it, but such an incident shows from a singlepoint the infinite tact and resolution required in waging war under agovernment whose members were unable to comprehend what was meant, andwho could not see that until they had beaten England it was hardlyworth while to worry about civil rights, which in case of defeat wouldspeedily cease to exist altogether. 

Another fertile source of trouble arose from questions of rank. Members of Congress, in making promotions and appointments, weremore apt to consider local claims than military merit, and they alsoallowed their own personal prejudices to affect their action inthis respect far too much. Thence arose endless heart-burningsand jealousies, followed by resignations and the loss of valuableofficers. Congress, having made the appointments, would go cheerfullyabout its business, while the swarm of grievances thus let loose wouldcome buzzing about the devoted head of the commander-in-chief. Hecould not adjourn, but was compelled to quiet rivalries, allayirritated feelings, and ride the storm as best he might. It was alldone, however, in one way or another: by personal appeals, and byletters full of dignity, patriotism, and patience, which are veryimpressive and full of meaning for students of character, even in thisday and generation. 

Then again, not content with snarling up our native appointments, Congress complicated matters still more dangerously by its treatmentof foreigners. The members of Congress were colonists, and the factthat they had shaken off the yoke of the mother country did not in theleast alter their colonial and perfectly natural habit of regardingwith enormous respect Englishmen and Frenchmen, and indeed anybody whohad had the good fortune to be born in Europe. The result was thatthey distributed commissions and gave inordinate rank to the manyvolunteers who came over the ocean, actuated by various motives, butall filled with a profound sense of their own merits. It is only fairto Congress to say that the American agents abroad were even more toblame in this respect. Silas Deane especially scattered promises ofcommissions with a lavish hand, and Congress refused to fulfill manyof the promises thus made in its name. Nevertheless, Congress was fartoo lax, and followed too closely the example of its agents. Some ofthese foreigners were disinterested men and excellent soldiers, whoproved of great value to the American cause. Many others were meremilitary adventurers, capable of being turned to good account, perhaps, but by no means entitled to what they claimed and in mostinstances received. 

The ill-considered action of Congress and of our agents abroad inthis respect was a source of constantly recurring troubles of a veryserious nature. Native officers, who had borne the burden and heat ofthe day, justly resented being superseded by some stranger, unableto speak the language, who had landed in the States but a few daysbefore. As a result, resignations were threatened which, if carriedout, would affect the character of the army very deeply. Then again, the foreigners themselves, inflated by the eagerness of our agents andby their reception at the hands of Congress, would find on joining thearmy that they could get no commands, chiefly because there were noneto give. They would then become dissatisfied with their rank andemployment, and bitter complaints and recriminations would ensue. All these difficulties, of course, fell most heavily upon thecommander-in-chief, who was heartily disgusted with the wholebusiness. Washington believed from the beginning, and said over andover again in various and ever stronger terms, that this was anAmerican war and must be fought by Americans. In no other way, andby no other persons, did he consider that it could be carried to anysuccess worth having. He saw of course the importance of a Frenchalliance, and deeply desired it, for it was a leading element in thesolution of the political and military situation; but alliance witha foreign power was one thing, and sporadic military volunteers wereanother. Washington had no narrow prejudices against foreigners, for he was a man of broad and liberal mind, and no one was moreuniversally beloved and respected by the foreign officers than he; buthe was intensely American in his feelings, and he would not admit foran instant that the American war for independence could be righteouslyfought or honestly won by others than Americans. He was well awarethat foreign volunteers had a value and use of which he largely andgratefully availed himself; but he was exasperated and alarmed by theindiscriminate and lavish way in which Congress and our agents abroadgave rank and office to them. "Hungry adventurers, " he called them inone letter, when driven beyond endurance by the endless annoyancesthus forced upon him; and so he pushed their pretensions aside, and managed, on the whole, to keep them in their proper place. Theoperation was delicate, difficult, and unpleasant, for it seemed tosavor of ingratitude. But Washington was never shaken for an instantin his policy, and while he checked the danger, he showed in manyinstances, like Lafayette and Steuben, that he could appreciate anduse all that was really valuable in the foreign contingent. 

The service rendered by Washington in this matter has never beenjustly understood or appreciated. If he had not taken this position, and held it with an absolute firmness which bordered on harshness, weshould have found ourselves in a short time with an army of Americansoldiers officered by foreigners, many of them mere mercenaries, "hungry adventurers, " from France, Poland or Hungary, from Germany, Ireland or England. The result of such a combination would have beendisorganization and defeat. That members of Congress and some of ourrepresentatives in Europe did not see the danger, and that they wereimpressed by the foreign officers who came among them, was perfectlynatural. Men are the creatures of the time in which they live, andtake their color from the conditions which surround them, as thechameleon does from the grass or leaves in which it hides. The rulersand lawmakers of 1776 could not cast off their provincial awe ofthe natives of England and Europe as they cast off their politicalallegiance to the British king. The only wonder is that there shouldhave been even one man so great in mind and character that he couldrise at a single bound from the level of a provincial planter to theheights of a great national leader. He proved himself such in allways, but in none more surely than in his ability to consider all mensimply as men, and, with a judgment that nothing could confuse, toward off from his cause and country the dangers inherent in colonialhabits of thought and action, so menacing to a people struggling forindependence. We can see this strong, high spirit of nationalityrunning through Washington's whole career, but it never did betterservice than when it stood between the American army and undue favorto foreign volunteers. 

Among other disagreeable and necessary truths, Washington had toldCongress that Philadelphia was in danger, that Howe probably meant tooccupy it, and that it would be nearly impossible to prevent his doingso. This warning being given and unheeded, he continued to watch hisantagonist, doing so with increased vigilance, as signs of activitybegan to appear in New York. Toward the end of May he broke up hiscantonments, having now about seven thousand men, and took a strongposition within ten miles of Brunswick. Here he waited, keepingan anxious eye on the Hudson in case he should be mistaken in hisexpectations, and should find that the enemy really intended to gonorth to meet Burgoyne instead of south to capture Philadelphia. 

Washington's doubts were soon to be resolved and his expectationsfulfilled. May 31, a fleet of a hundred sail left New York, andcouriers were at once sent southward to warn the States of thepossibility of a speedy invasion. About the same time transportsarrived with more German mercenaries, and Howe, thus reinforced, entered the Jerseys. Washington determined to decline battle, and ifthe enemy pushed on and crossed the Delaware, to hang heavily on theirrear, while the militia from the south were drawn up to Philadelphia. He adopted this course because he felt confident that Howe would nevercross the Delaware and leave the main army of the Americans behindhim. His theory proved correct. The British advanced and retreated, burned houses and villages and made feints, but all in vain. Washington baffled them at every point, and finally Sir Williamevacuated the Jerseys entirely and withdrew to New York and StatenIsland, where active preparations for some expedition were at oncebegun. Again came anxious watching, with the old fear that Howe meantto go northward and join the now advancing Burgoyne. The fear wasgroundless. On July 23 the British fleet set sail from New York, carrying between fifteen and eighteen thousand men. Not deceived bythe efforts to make him think that they aimed at Boston, but stillfearing that the sailing might be only a ruse and the Hudson the realobject after all, Washington moved cautiously to the Delaware, holdinghimself ready to strike in either direction. On the 31st he heard thatthe enemy were at the Capes. This seemed decisive; so he sent inall directions for reinforcements, moved the main army rapidly toGermantown, and prepared to defend Philadelphia. The next news wasthat the fleet had put to sea again, and again messengers went northto warn Putnam to prepare for the defense of the Hudson. Washingtonhimself was about to re-cross the Delaware, when tidings arrived thatthe fleet had once more appeared at the Capes, and after a few moredays of doubt the ships came up the Chesapeake and anchored. 

Washington thought the "route a strange one, " but he knew now that hewas right in his belief that Howe aimed at Philadelphia. He thereforegathered his forces and marched south to meet the enemy, passingthrough the city in order to impress the disaffected and the timidwith the show of force. It was a motley array that followed him. Therewas nothing uniform about the troops except their burnished arms andthe sprigs of evergreen in their hats. Nevertheless Lafayette, who hadjust come among them, thought that they looked like good soldiers, andthe Tories woke up sharply to the fact that there was a large body ofmen known as the American army, and that they had a certain obviousfighting capacity visible in their appearance. Neither friends norenemies knew, however, as they stood on the Philadelphia sidewalksand watched the troops go past, that the mere fact of that army'sexistence was the greatest victory of skill and endurance whichthe war could show, and that the question of success lay in itscontinuance. 

Leaving Philadelphia, Washington pushed on to the junction of theBrandywine and Christiana Creek, and posted his men along the heights. August 25, Howe landed at the Head of Elk, and Washington threw outlight parties to drive in cattle, carry off supplies, and annoy theenemy. This was done, on the whole, satisfactorily, and after somesuccessful skirmishing on the part of the Americans, the two armieson the 5th of September found themselves within eight or ten miles ofeach other. Washington now determined to risk a battle in the field, despite his inferiority in every way. He accordingly issued astirring proclamation to the soldiers, and then fell back behind theBrandywine, to a strong position, and prepared to contest the passageof the river. 

Early on September 11, the British advanced to Chad's Ford, whereWashington was posted with the main body, and after some skirmishingbegan to cannonade at long range. Meantime Cornwallis, with the mainbody, made a long détour of seventeen miles, and came upon the rightflank and rear of the Americans. Sullivan, who was on the right, hadfailed to guard the fords above, and through lack of information waspractically surprised. Washington, on rumors that the enemy weremarching toward his right, with the instinct of a great soldier wasabout to cross the river in his front and crush the enemy there, buthe also was misled and kept back by false reports. When the truth wasknown, it was too late. The right wing had been beaten and flung back, the enemy were nearly in the rear, and were now advancing in earnestin front. All that man could do was done. Troops were pushed forwardand a gallant stand was made at various points; but the criticalmoment had come and gone, and there was nothing for it but a hastyretreat, which came near degenerating into a rout. 

The causes of this complete defeat, for such it was, are easily seen. Washington had planned his battle and chosen his position well. If hehad not been deceived by the first reports, he even then would havefallen upon and overwhelmed the British centre before they couldhave reached his right wing. But the Americans, to begin with, wereoutnumbered. They had only eleven thousand effective men, while theBritish brought fifteen of their eighteen thousand into action. Thenthe Americans suffered, as they constantly did, from misinformation, and from an absence of system in learning the enemy's movements. Washington's attack was fatally checked in this way, and Sullivanwas surprised from the same causes, as well as from his own culpableignorance of the country beyond him, which was the reason of hisfailure to guard the upper fords. The Americans lost, also, by theunsteadiness of new troops when the unexpected happens, and whenthe panic-bearing notion that they are surprised and likely to besurrounded comes upon them with a sudden shock. 

This defeat was complete and severe, and it was followed in a few daysby that of Wayne, who narrowly escaped utter ruin. Yet through allthis disaster we can see the advance which had been made since theequally unfortunate and very similar battle on Long Island. Then, thetroops seemed to lose heart and courage, the army was held togetherwith difficulty, and could do nothing but retreat. Now, in the fewdays which Howe, as usual, gave his opponent with such fatal effect tohimself, Washington rallied his army, and finding them in excellentspirits marched down the Lancaster road to fight again. On the eve ofbattle a heavy storm came on, which so injured the arms and munitionsthat with bitter disappointment he was obliged to withdraw; butnevertheless it is plain how much this forward movement meant. At themoment, however, it looked badly enough, especially after the defeatof Wayne, for Howe pressed forward, took possession of Philadelphia, and encamped the main body of his army at Germantown. 

Meantime Washington, who had not in the least given up his idea offighting again, recruited his army, and having a little more thaneight thousand men, determined to try another stroke at the British, while they were weakened by detachments. On the night of October 3 hestarted, and reached Germantown at daybreak on the 4th. At first theAmericans swept everything before them, and flung the British backin rout and confusion. Then matters began to go wrong, as is alwayslikely to happen when, as in this case, widely separated and yetaccurately concerted action is essential to success. Some of theBritish threw themselves into a stone house, and instead of leavingthem there under guard, the whole army stopped to besiege, and aprecious half hour was lost. Then Greene and Stephen were late incoming up, having made a circuit, and although when they arrived allseemed to go well, the Americans were seized with an inexplicablepanic, and fell back, as Wayne truly said, in the very moment ofvictory. One of those unlucky accidents, utterly unavoidable, butalways dangerous to extensive combinations, had a principal effect onthe result. The morning was very misty, and the fog, soon thickened bythe smoke, caused confusion, random firing, and, worst of all, thatuncertainty of feeling and action which something or nothing convertedinto a panic. Nevertheless, the Americans rallied quickly this time, and a good retreat was made, under the lead of Greene, until safetywas reached. The action, while it lasted, had been very sharp, and thelosses on both sides were severe, the Americans suffering most. 

Washington, as usual when matters went ill, exposed himselfrecklessly, to the great alarm of his generals, but all in vain. Hewas deeply disappointed, and expressed himself so at first, for he sawthat the men had unaccountably given way when they were on the edgeof victory. The underlying cause was of course, as at Long Islandand Brandywine, the unsteadiness of raw troops, and Washington feltrightly, after the first sting had passed, that he had really achieveda great deal. Congress applauded the attempt, and when the smoke ofthe battle had cleared away, men generally perceived that its havingbeen fought at all was in reality the important fact. It made alsoa profound impression upon the French cabinet. Eagerly watching thecourse of events, they saw the significance of the fact that an armyraised within a year could fight a battle in the open field, endurea severe defeat, and then take the offensive and make a bold andwell-planned attack, which narrowly missed being overwhelminglysuccessful. To the observant and trained eyes of Europe, the defeatat Germantown made it evident that there was fighting material amongthese untrained colonists, capable of becoming formidable; and thatthere was besides a powerful will and directing mind, capable onits part of bringing this same material into the required shape andcondition. To dispassionate onlookers, England's grasp on her coloniesappeared to be slipping away very rapidly. Washington himself saw themeaning of it all plainly enough, for it was but the development ofhis theory of carrying on the war. 

There is no indication, however, that England detected, in all thathad gone on since her army landed at the Head of Elk, anything morethan a couple of natural defeats for the rebels. General Howe wassufficiently impressed to draw in his troops, and keep very closelyshut up in Philadelphia, but his country was not moved at all. Thefact that it had taken forty-seven days to get their army from theElk River to Philadelphia, and that in that time they had fought twosuccessful battles and yet had left the American army still activeand menacing, had no effect upon the British mind. The English werethoroughly satisfied that the colonists were cowards and were sure tobe defeated, no matter what the actual facts might be. They regardedWashington as an upstart militia colonel, and they utterly failed tocomprehend that they had to do with a great soldier, who was able toorganize and lead an army, overcome incredible difficulties, beat andoutgeneral them, bear defeat, and then fight again. They were unableto realize that the mere fact that such a man could be produced andsuch an army maintained meant the inevitable loss of colonies threethousand miles away. Men there were in England, undoubtedly, likeBurke and Fox, who felt and understood the significance of thesethings, but the mass of the people, as well as the aristocracy, theking, and the cabinet, would have none of them. Rude contempt forother people is a warming and satisfying feeling, no doubt, and theEnglish have had unquestionably great satisfaction from its freeindulgence. No one should grudge it to them, least of all Americans. It is a comfort for which they have paid, so far as this country isconcerned, by the loss of their North American colonies, and by a fewother settlements with the United States at other and later times. 

But although Washington and his army failed to impress England, eventshad happened in the north, during this same summer, which were sosharp-pointed that they not only impressed the English people keenlyand unpleasantly, but they actually penetrated the dull comprehensionof George III. And his cabinet. "Why, " asked an English lady of anAmerican naval officer, in the year of grace 1887--"why is your shipnamed the Saratoga?" "Because, " was the reply, "at Saratoga an Englishgeneral and an English army of more than five thousand men surrenderedto an American army and laid down their arms. " Although apparentlyneglected now in the general scheme of British education, Saratogawas a memorable event in the summer of 1777, and the part taken byWashington in bringing about the great result has never, it wouldseem, been properly set forth. There is no need to trace here thehistory of that campaign, but it is necessary to show how much wasdone by the commander-in-chief, five hundred miles away, to win thefinal victory. 

In the winter of 1776-77 reports came that a general and an army wereto be sent to Canada to invade the colonies from the north by wayof Lake Champlain. The news does not seem to have made a very deepimpression generally, nor to have been regarded as anything beyondthe ordinary course of military events. But there was one man, fortunately, who in an instant perceived the full significance of thismovement. Washington saw that the English had at last found an idea, or, at least, a general possessed of one. So long as the Britishconfined themselves to fighting one or two battles, and then, takingpossession of a single town, were content to sit down and pass theirwinter in good quarters, leaving the colonists in undisturbed controlof all the rest of the country, there was nothing to be feared. Theresult of such campaigning as this could not be doubtful for a momentto any clear-sighted man. But when a plan was on foot, which, ifsuccessful, meant the control of the lakes and the Hudson, and of aline of communication from the north to the great colonial seaport, the case was very different. Such a campaign as this would causethe complete severance of New England, the chief source for men andsupplies, from the rest of the colonies. It promised the mastery, notof a town, but of half a dozen States, and this to the American causeprobably would be ruin. 

So strongly and clearly did Washington feel all this that hiscounter-plan was at once ready, and before people had fairly graspedthe idea that there was to be a northern invasion, he was sending, early in March, urgent letters to New England to rouse up the militiaand have them in readiness to march at a moment's notice. To Schuyler, in command of the northern department, he began now to writeconstantly, and to unfold the methods which must be pursued in orderto compass the defeat of the invaders. His object was to delay thearmy of Burgoyne by every possible device, while steadily avoiding apitched battle. Then the militia and hardy farmers of New England andNew York were to be rallied, and were to fall upon the flank andrear of the British, harass them constantly, cut off their outlyingparties, and finally hem them in and destroy them. If the army andpeople of the North could only be left undisturbed, it is evident fromhis letters that Washington felt no doubt as to the result in thatquarter. 

But the North included only half the conditions essential to success. The grave danger feared by Washington was that Howe would understandthe situation, and seeing his opportunity, would throw everything elseaside, and marching northward with twenty thousand men, would makehimself master of the Hudson, effect a junction with Burgoyne atAlbany, and so cut the colonies in twain. From all he could learn, and from his knowledge of his opponents' character, Washington feltsatisfied that Howe intended to capture Philadelphia, advancing, probably, through the Jerseys. Yet, despite his well-reasoned judgmenton this point, it seemed so incredible that any soldier could fail tosee that decisive victory lay in the north, and in a junction withBurgoyne, that Washington could not really and fully believe in suchfatuity until he knew that Howe was actually landing at the Headof Elk. This is the reason for the anxiety displayed in thecorrespondence of that summer, for the changing and shiftingmovements, and for the obvious hesitation of opinion, so unusual withWashington at any time. Be it remembered, moreover, that it was anawful doubt which went to bed and got up and walked with him throughall those long nights and days. If Howe, the dull and lethargic, should awake from his dream of conquering America by taking now andagain an isolated town, and should break for the north with twentythousand men, the fortunes of the young republic would come to theirseverest test. 

In that event, Washington knew well enough what he meant to do. Hewould march his main army to the Hudson, unite with the strong bodyof troops which he kept there constantly, contest every inch of thecountry and the river with Howe, and keep him at all hazards fromgetting to Albany. But he also knew well that if this were done theodds would be fearfully against him, for Howe would then not onlyoutnumber him very greatly, but there would be ample time for theBritish to act, and but a short distance to be covered. We canimagine, therefore, his profound sense of relief when he found thatHowe and his army were really south of Philadelphia, after a waste ofmany precious weeks. He could now devote himself single-hearted to thedefense of the city, for distance and time were at last on his side, and all that remained was to fight Howe so hard and steadily thatneither in victory nor defeat would he remember Burgoyne. Pitt saidthat he would conquer Canada on the plains of Germany, and Burgoynewas compelled to surrender in large measure by the campaign ofWashington in New Jersey and Pennsylvania. 

If we study carefully Washington's correspondence during that eventfulsummer, grouping together that relating to the northern campaign, andcomparing it with that which dealt with the affairs of his own army, all that has just been said comes out with entire clearness, and it isastonishing to see how exactly events justified his foresight. Ifhe could only hold Howe in the south, he was quite willing to trustBurgoyne to the rising of the people and to the northern wilderness. Every effort he made was in this direction, beginning, as has beensaid, by his appeals to the New England governors in March. Schuyler, on his part, was thoroughly imbued with Washington's other leadingidea, that the one way to victory was by retarding the enemy. At theoutset everything went utterly and disastrously wrong. Washingtoncounted on an obstinate struggle, and a long delay at Ticonderoga, forhe had not been on the ground, and could not imagine that our officerswould fortify everything but the one commanding point. 

The loss of the forts appalled the country and disappointedWashington, but did not shake his nerve for an instant. He wrote toSchuyler: "This stroke is severe indeed, and has distressed us much. But notwithstanding things at present have a dark and gloomy aspect, I hope a spirited opposition will check the progress of GeneralBurgoyne's army, and that the confidence derived from his success willhurry him into measures that will, in their consequences, be favorableto us. We should never despair; our situation has before beenunpromising, and has changed for the better; so I trust it will again. If new difficulties arise we must only put forth new exertions, andproportion our efforts to the exigency of the times. " Even after thisseemingly crushing defeat he still felt sure of Burgoyne, so long ashe was unsupported. Suiting the action to the word, he again bentevery nerve to rouse New England and get out her militia. When he wassatisfied that Howe was landing below Philadelphia, the first thing hedid was to send forth the same cry in the same quarter, to bring outmore men against Burgoyne. He showed, too, the utmost generositytoward the northern army, sending thither all the troops he couldpossibly spare, and even parting with his favorite corps of Morgan'sriflemen. Despite his liberality, the commanders in the northwere unreasonable in their demands, and when they asked too much, Washington flatly declined to send more men, for he would not weakenhimself unduly, and he knew what they did not see, that the fate ofthe northern invasion turned largely on his own ability to cope withHowe. 

The blame for the loss of the forts fell of course upon Schuyler, who was none too popular in Congress, and who with St. Clair wasaccordingly made a scape-goat. Congress voted that Washington shouldappoint a new commander, and the New England delegates visited him tourge the selection of Gates. This task Washington refused to perform, alleging as a reason that the northern department had always beenconsidered a separate command, and that he had never done more thanadvise. These reasons do not look very weighty or very strong, and itis not quite clear what the underlying motive was. Washington nevershrank from responsibility, and he knew very well that he could pickout the best man more unerringly than Congress. But he also sawthat Congress favored Gates, whom he would not have chosen, and hetherefore probably felt that it was more important to have some onewhom New England believed in and approved than a better soldier whowould have been unwelcome to her representatives. It is certain thathe would not have acted thus, had he thought that generalship was animportant element in the problem; but he relied on a popular uprising, and not on the commander, to defeat Burgoyne. He may have thought, too, that it was a mistake to relieve Schuyler, who was working in thedirections which he had pointed out, and who, if not a great soldier, was a brave, high-minded, and sensible man, devoted to his chief andto the country. It was Schuyler indeed who, by his persistent labor inbreaking down bridges, tearing up roads, and felling trees, while hegathered men industriously in all directions, did more than any oneelse at that moment to prepare the way for an ultimate victory. 

Whatever his feelings may have been in regard to the command of thenorthern department, Washington made no change in his own course afterGates had been appointed. He knew that Gates was at least harmless, and not likely to block the natural course of events. He thereforefelt free to press his own policy without cessation, and withoutapprehension. He took care that Lincoln and Arnold should be there tolook after the New England militia, and he wrote to Governor Clinton, in whose energy and courage he had great confidence, to rouse up themen of New York. He suggested the points of attack, and at everymoment advised and counseled and watched, holding all the while a firmgrip on Howe. Slowly and surely the net, thus painfully set, tightenedround Burgoyne. The New Englanders whipped one division at Bennington, and the New Yorkers shattered another at Oriskany and Fort Schuyler. The country people turned out in defense of their invaded homes andpoured into the American camp. Burgoyne struggled and advanced, fought and retreated. Gates, stupid, lethargic, and good-natured, didnothing, but there was no need of generalship; and Arnold was there, turbulent and quarrelsome, but full of daring; and Morgan, too, equally ready; and they and others did all the necessary fighting. 

Poor Burgoyne, a brave gentleman, if not a great general, hadthe misfortune to be a clever man in the service of a stupidadministration, and he met the fate usually meted out under suchcircumstances to men of ideas. Howe went off to the conquest ofPhiladelphia, Clinton made a brief burning and plundering raid up theriver, and the northern invasion, which really had meaning, was leftto its fate. It was a hard fate, but there was no escape. Outnumbered, beaten, and caught, Burgoyne surrendered. If there had been afighting-man at the head of the American army, the British would havesurrendered as prisoners of war, and not on conditions. Schuyler, wemay be sure, whatever his failings, would never have let them offso easily. But it was sufficient as it was. The wilderness, and themilitia of New York and New England swarming to the defense of theirhomes, had done the work. It all fell out just as Washington hadforeseen and planned, and England, despising her enemy and theircommander, saw one of her armies surrender, and might have known, ifshe had had the wit, that the colonies were now lost forever. TheRevolution had been saved at Trenton; it was established at Saratoga. In the one case it was the direct, in the other the indirect, work ofWashington. 

Poor Gates, with his dull brain turning under the impression that thiscrowning mercy had been his own doing, lost his head, forgot thatthere was a commander-in-chief, and sending his news to Congress, leftWashington to find out from chance rumors, and a tardy letter fromPutnam, that Burgoyne had actually surrendered. This gross slight, however, had deeper roots than the mere exultation of victory actingon a heavy and common mind. It represented a hostile feeling whichhad been slowly increasing for some time, which had been carefullynurtured by those interested in its growth, and which blossomedrapidly in the heated air of military triumph. From the outset it hadbeen Washington's business to fight the enemy, manage the army, deal with Congress, and consider in all its bearings the politicalsituation at home and abroad; but he was now called upon to meet atrouble outside the line of duty, and to face attacks from within, which, ideally speaking, ought never to have existed, but which, inview of our very fallible humanity, were certain to come sooner orlater. Much domestic malice Washington was destined to encounter inthe later years of political strife, but this was the only instance inhis military career where enmity came to overt action and open speech. The first and the last of its kind, this assault upon him has muchinterest, for a strong light is thrown upon his character by studyinghim, thus beset, and by seeing just how he passed through this mosttrying and disagreeable of ordeals. 

The germ of the difficulties was to be found where we should expectit, in the differences between the men of speech and the man ofaction, between the lawmakers and the soldier. Washington had beenobliged to tell Congress a great many plain and unpleasant truths. It was part of his duty, and he did it accordingly. He was alwaysdignified, calm, and courteous, but he had an alarmingly direct waywith him, especially when he was annoyed. He was simple almost tobluntness, but now and then would use a grave irony which musthave made listening ears tingle. Congress was patriotic andwell-intentioned, and on the whole stood bravely by its general, but it was unversed in war, very impatient, and at times wildlyimpracticable. Here is a letter which depicts the situation, and therelation between the general and his rulers, with great clearness. March 14, 1777, Washington wrote to the President: "Could I accomplishthe important objects so eagerly wished by Congress, --'confining theenemy within their present quarters, preventing their gettingsupplies from the country, and totally subduing them before they arereinforced, '--I should be happy indeed. But what prospect or hope canthere be of my effecting so desirable a work at this time?"

We can imagine how exasperating such requests and suggestions musthave been. It was very much as if Congress had said: "Good General, bring in the Atlantic tides and drown the enemy; or pluck the moonfrom the sky and give it to us, as a mark of your loyalty. " Suchrequests are not soothing to any man struggling his best with greatanxieties, and with a host of petty cares. Washington, nevertheless, kept his temper, and replied only by setting down a few hard factswhich answered the demands of Congress in a final manner, and with allthe sting of truth. Thus a little irritation had been generatedin Congress against the general, and there were some members whodeveloped a good deal of pronounced hostility. Sam Adams, a bornagitator and a trained politician, unequaled almost in our history asan organizer and manager of men, able, narrow, coldly fierce, the manof the town meeting and the caucus, had no possibility of intellectualsympathy with the silent, patient, hard-gripping soldier, hemmed withdifficulties, but ever moving straight forward to his object, withoccasional wild gusts of reckless fighting passion. John Adams, too, brilliant of speech and pen, ardent, patriotic, and high-minded, was, in his way, out of touch with Washington. Although he movedWashington's appointment, he began almost immediately to find faultwith him, an exercise to which he was extremely prone. Inasmuch as hecould see how things ought to be done, he could not understandwhy they were not done in that way at once, for he had a fineforgetfulness of other people's difficulties, as is the case with mostof us. The New England representatives generally took their cue fromthese two, especially James Lovell, who carried his ideas into action, and obtained a little niche in the temple of fame by makinghimself disagreeably conspicuous in the intrigue against thecommander-in-chief, when it finally developed. 

There were others, too, outside New England who were discontented, andamong them Richard Henry Lee, from the General's own State. He wasevidently critical and somewhat unfriendly at this time, although thereasons for his being so are not now very distinct. Then there was Mr. Clark of New Jersey, an excellent man, who thought the General wasinvading popular rights; and to him others might be added who vaguelyfelt that things ought to be better than they were. This party, adverse to Washington, obtained the appointment of Gates to thenorthern department, under whom the army won a great victory, and theywere correspondingly happy. John Adams wrote his wife that onecause of thanksgiving was that the tide had not been turned by thecommander-in-chief and southern troops, for the adulation would havebeen intolerable; and that a man may be wise and virtuous and not adeity. 

Here, so far as the leading and influential men were concerned, thematter would have dropped, probably; but there were lesser men likeLovell who were much encouraged by the surrender of Burgoyne, and whothought that they now might supplant Washington with Gates. Beforelong, too, they found in the army itself some active and notover-scrupulous allies. The most conspicuous figure among the militarymalcontents was Gates himself, who, although sluggish in all things, still had a keen eye for his own advancement. He showed plainly howmuch his head had been turned by the victory at Saratoga when hefailed to inform Washington of the fact, and when he afterward delayedsending back troops until he was driven to it by the determined energyof Hamilton, who was sent to bring him to reason. Next in importanceto Gates was Thomas Mifflin, an ardent patriot, but a ratherlight-headed person, who espoused the opposition to Washington forcauses now somewhat misty, but among which personal vanity played noinconsiderable part. About these two leaders gathered a certain numberof inferior officers of no great moment then or since. 

The active and moving spirit in the party, however, was one Conway, anIrish adventurer, who made himself so prominent that the whole affairpassed into history bearing his name, and the "Conway cabal" hasobtained an enduring notoriety which its hero never acquired by anypublic services. Conway was one of the foreign officers who had gainedthe favor of Congress and held the rank of brigadier-general, but thisby no means filled the measure of his pretensions, and when De Kalbwas made a major-general Conway immediately started forward withclaims to the same rank. He received strong support from the factiousopposition, and there was so much stir that Washington sharplyinterfered, for to his general objection to these lavish gifts ofexcessive rank was added an especial distrust in this particularcase. In his calm way he had evidently observed Conway, and with hisunerring judgment of men had found him wanting. "I may add, " he wroteto Lee, "and I think with truth, that it will give a fatal blow tothe existence of the army. Upon so interesting a subject I must speakplainly. General Conway's merit then as an officer, and his importancein this army, exist more in his own imagination than in reality. "This plain talk soon reached Conway, drove him at once into furiousopposition, and caused him to impart to the faction a cohesion andvigor which they had before lacked. Circumstances favored them. Thevictory at Saratoga gave them something tangible to go upon, and thefirst move was made when Gates failed to inform Washington of thesurrender, and then held back the troops sent for so urgently by thecommander-in-chief, who had sacrificed so much from his own army tosecure that of the north. 

At this very moment, indeed, when Washington was calling for troops, he was struggling with the utmost tenacity to hold control of theDelaware. He made every arrangement possible to maintain the forts, and the first assaults upon them were repulsed with great slaughter, the British in the attack on Fort Mercer losing Count Donop, theleader, and four hundred men. Then came a breathing space, and thenthe attacks were renewed, supported by vessels, and both forts wereabandoned after the works had been leveled to the ground by theenemy's fire. Meanwhile Hamilton, sent to the north, had done hiswork; Gates had been stirred, and Putnam, well-meaning but stubborn, had been sharply brought to his bearings. Reinforcements had come, andWashington meditated an attack on Philadelphia. There was a good dealof clamor for something brilliant and decisive, for both the army andthe public were a little dizzy from the effects of Saratoga, and withsublime blindness to different conditions, could not see why the sameperformance should not be repeated to order everywhere else. To opposethis wish was trying, doubly trying to a man eager to fight, and withhis full share of the very human desire to be as successful as hisneighbor. It required great nerve to say No; but Washington did notlack that quality, and as general and statesman he reconnoitred theenemy's works, weighed the chances, said No decisively, and took up analmost impregnable position at White Marsh. Thereupon Howe announcedthat he would drive Washington beyond the mountains, and on December4 he approached the American lines with this highly proper purpose. There was some skirmishing along the foot of the hills of anunimportant character, and on the third day Washington, in highspirits, thought an attack would be made, and rode among the soldiersdirecting and encouraging them. Nothing came of it, however, but moreskirmishing, and the next day Howe marched back to Philadelphia. Hehad offered battle in all ways, he had invited action; but again, withthe same pressure both from his own spirit and from public opinion, Washington had said No. On his own ground he was more than ready tofight Howe, but despite the terrible temptation he would fight on noother. Not the least brilliant exploit of Wellington was the retreatto the shrewdly prepared lines of Torres Vedras, and one of the mostdifficult successes of Washington was his double refusal to fight asthe year 1777 drew to a close. 

Like most right and wise things, Washington's action looks now, acentury later, so plainly sensible that it is hard to imagine how anyone could have questioned it; and one cannot, without a great effort, realize the awful strain upon will and temper involved in thusrefusing battle. If the proposed attack on Philadelphia had failed, orif our army had come down from the hills and been beaten in the fieldsbelow, no American army would have remained. The army of the north, ofwhich men were talking so proudly, had done its work and dispersed. The fate of the Revolution rested where it had been from thebeginning, with Washington and his soldiers. Drive them beyond themountains and there was no other army to fall back upon. On theirexistence everything hinged, and when Howe got back to Philadelphia, there they were still existent, still coherent, hovering on his flank, cooping him up in his lines, and leaving him master of little morethan the ground his men encamped upon, and the streets his sentinelspatrolled. When Franklin was told in Paris that Howe had takenPhiladelphia, his reply was, "Philadelphia has taken Howe. "

But, with the exception of Franklin, contemporary opinion in the monthof December, 1777, was very different from that of to-day, and thecabal had been at work ever since the commander-in-chief had steppedbetween Conway and the exorbitant rank he coveted. Washington, indeed, was perfectly aware of what was going on. He was quiet and dignified, impassive and silent, but he knew when men, whether great or small, were plotting against him, and he watched them with the same keennessas he did Howe and the British. 

In the midst of his struggle to hold the Delaware forts, and of hisefforts to get back his troops from the north, a story came to himthat arrested his attention. Wilkinson, of Gates's staff, had come toCongress with the news of the surrender. He had been fifteen days onthe road and three days getting his papers in order, and when it wasproposed to give him a sword, Roger Sherman suggested that they hadbetter "give the lad a pair of spurs. " This thrust and some delayseem to have nettled Wilkinson, who was swelling with importance, andalthough he was finally made a brigadier-general, he rode off to thenorth much ruffled. In later years Wilkinson was secretive enough; butin his hot youth he could not hold his tongue, and on his way back toGates he talked. What he said was marked and carried to headquarters, and on November 9 Washington wrote to Conway:--

 "A letter which I received last night contained the following paragraph, --'In a letter from General Conway to General Gates he says, "_Heaven has determined to save your country, or a weak general and bad counsellors would have ruined it_" I am, sir, your humble servant, '" etc. 

This curt note fell upon Conway with stunning effect. It is said thathe tried to apologize, and he certainly resigned. As for Gates, hefell to writing letters filled with expressions of wonder as to whohad betrayed him, and writhed most pitiably under the exposure. Washington's replies are models of cold dignity, and the calmindifference with which he treated the whole matter, while holdingGates to the point with relentless grasp, is very interesting. Thecabal was seriously shaken by this sudden blow. It must have dawnedupon them dimly that they might have mistaken their man, and that thesilent soldier was perhaps not so easy to dispose of by an intrigue asthey had fancied. Nevertheless, they rallied, and taking advantage ofthe feeling in Congress created by Burgoyne's surrender, they set towork to get control of military matters. The board of war was enlargedto five, with Gates at its head and Mifflin a member, and, thusconstituted, it proceeded to make Conway inspector-general, with therank of major-general. This, after Conway's conduct, was a directinsult to Washington, and marks the highest point attained by hisopponents. 

In Congress, too, they became more active, and John Jay said thatthere was in that body a party bitterly hostile to Washington. We knowlittle of the members of that faction now, for they never took thetrouble to refer to the matter in after years, and did everything thatsilence could do to have it all forgotten. But the party existed nonethe less, and significant letters have come down to us, one of themwritten by Lovell, and two anonymous, addressed respectively toPatrick Henry and to Laurens, then president, which show a bitter andvindictive spirit, and breathe but one purpose. The same thought isconstantly reiterated, that with a good general the northern army hadwon a great victory, and that the main army, if commanded in the sameway, would do likewise. The plan was simple and coherent. The cabalwished to drive Washington out of power and replace him with Gates. With this purpose they wrote to Henry and Laurens; with this purposethey made Conway inspector-general. 

When they turned from intrigue to action, however, they began to fail. One of their pet schemes was the conquest of Canada, and withthis object Lafayette was sent to the lakes, only to find that nopreparations had been made, because the originators of the idea wereignorant and inefficient. The expedition promptly collapsed and wasabandoned, with much instruction in consequence to Congress andpeople. Under their control the commissariat also went hopelessly topieces, and a committee of Congress proceeded to Valley Forge andfound that in this direction, too, the new managers had grievouslyfailed. Then the original Conway letter, uncovered so unceremoniouslyby Washington, kept returning to plague its author. Gates'scorrespondence went on all through the winter, and with every letterGates floundered more and more, and Washington's replies grew moreand more freezing and severe. Gates undertook to throw the blame onWilkinson, who became loftily indignant and challenged him. The twomade up their quarrel very soon in a ludicrous manner, but Wilkinsonin the interval had an interview with Washington, which revealed anamount of duplicity and perfidy on the part of the cabal, so shockingto the former's sensitive nature, that he resigned his secretaryshipof the board of war on account, as he frankly said, of the treacheryand falsehood of Gates. Such a quarrel of course hurt the cabal, butit was still more weakened by Gates himself, whose only idea seemedto be to supersede Washington by slighting him, refusing troops, anddeclining to propose his health at dinner, --methods as unusual as theywere feeble. 

The cabal, in fact, was so weak in ability and character that themoment any responsibility fell upon its members it was certain tobreak down, but the absolutely fatal obstacle to its schemes was theman it aimed to overthrow. The idea evidently was that Washingtoncould be driven to resign. They knew that they could not get eitherCongress or public opinion to support them in removing him, but theybelieved that a few well-placed slights and insults would make himremove himself. It was just here that they made their mistake. Washington, as they were aware, was sensitive and high-spirited tothe last degree, and he had no love for office, but he was not one ofthose weaklings who leave power and place in a pet because they arecriticised and assailed. He was not ambitious in the ordinary personalsense, but he had a passion for success. Whether it was breaking ahorse, or reclaiming land, or fighting Indians, or saving a state, whatever he set his hand to, that he carried through to the end. Withhim there never was any shadow of turning back. When, without anyself-seeking, he was placed at the head of the Revolution, he madeup his mind that he would carry it through everything to victory, ifvictory were possible. Death or a prison could stop him, but neitherdefeat nor neglect, and still less the forces of intrigue and cabal. 

When he wrote to his brother announcing Burgoyne's surrender, he hadnothing to say of the slight Gates put upon him, but merely added ina postscript, "I most devoutly congratulate my country and everywell-wisher to the cause on this signal stroke of Providence. " Thiswas his tone to every one, both in private and public. His complaintof not being properly notified he made to Gates alone, and put it inthe form of a rebuke. He knew of the movement against him from thebeginning, but apparently the first person he confided in was Conway, when he sent him the brief note of November 9. Even after the cabalwas fully developed, he wrote about it only once or twice, whencompelled to do so, and there is no evidence that he ever talked aboutit except, perhaps, to a few most intimate friends. In a letter toPatrick Henry he said that he was obliged to allow a false impressionas to his strength to go abroad, and that he suffered in consequence;and he added, with a little touch of feeling, that while theyeomanry of New York and New England poured into the camp of Gates, outnumbering the enemy two to one, he could get no aid of that sortfrom Pennsylvania, and still marvels were demanded of him. 

Thus he went on his way through the winter, silent except when obligedto answer some friend, and always ready to meet his enemies. WhenConway complained to Congress of his reception at camp, Washingtonwrote the president that he was not given to dissimulation, and thathe certainly had been cold in his manner. He wrote to Lafayette thatslander had been busy, and that he had urged his officers to becool and dispassionate as to Conway, adding, "I have no doubt thateverything happens for the best, that we shall triumph over all ourmisfortunes, and in the end be happy; when, my dear Marquis, if youwill give me your company in Virginia, we will laugh at our pastdifficulties and the folly of others. " But though he wrote thuslightly to his friends, he followed Gates sternly enough, and keptthat gentleman occupied as he drove him from point to point. Amongother things he touched upon Conway's character with sharp irony, saying, "It is, however, greatly to be lamented that this adept inmilitary science did not employ his abilities in the progress of thecampaign, in pointing out those wise measures which were calculated togive us 'that degree of success we could reasonably expect. '"

Poor Gates did not find these letters pleasant reading, and one morecurt note, on February 24, finished the controversy. By that time thecabal was falling to pieces, and in a little while was dispersed. Wilkinson's resignation was accepted, Mifflin was put underWashington's orders, and Gates was sent to his command in the north. Conway resigned one day in a pet, and found his resignation acceptedand his power gone with unpleasant suddenness. He then got into aquarrel with General Cadwalader on account of his attacks on thecommander-in-chief. The quarrel ended in a duel. Conway was badlywounded, and thinking himself dying, wrote a contrite note of apologyto Washington, then recovered, left the country, and disappeared fromthe ken of history. Thus domestic malice and the "bitter party" inCongress failed and perished. They had dashed themselves in vainagainst the strong man who held firmly both soldiers and people. "While the public are satisfied with my endeavors, I mean not toshrink from the cause. " So Washington wrote to Gordon as the cabalwas coming to an end, and in that spirit he crushed silently andthoroughly the faction that sought to thwart his purpose, and drivehim from office by sneers, slights, and intrigues. 

These attacks upon him came at the darkest moment of his militarycareer. Defeated at Brandywine and Germantown, he had been forced fromthe forts after a desperate struggle, had seen Philadelphia and theriver fall completely into the hands of the enemy, and, bitterest ofall, he had been obliged to hold back from another assault on theBritish lines, and to content himself with baffling Howe when thatgentleman came out and offered battle. Then the enemy withdrew totheir comfortable quarters, and he was left to face again the harshwinter and the problem of existence. It was the same ever recurringeffort to keep the American army, and thereby the American Revolution, alive. There was nothing in this task to stir the blood and rouse theheart. It was merely a question of grim tenacity of purpose and of theability to comprehend its overwhelming importance. It was not a workthat appealed to or inspirited any one, and to carry it through to asuccessful issue rested with the commander-in-chief alone. 

In the frost and snow he withdrew to Valley Forge, within easystriking distance of Philadelphia. He had literally nothing to relyupon but his own stern will and strong head. His soldiers, steadilydwindling in numbers, marked their road to Valley Forge by the bloodfrom their naked feet. They were destitute and in rags. When theyreached their destination they had no shelter, and it was only by theenergy and ingenuity of the General that they were led to build huts, and thus secure a measure of protection against the weather. Therewere literally no supplies, and the Board of War failed completely toremedy the evil. The army was in such straits that it was obligedto seize by force the commonest necessaries. This was a desperateexpedient and shocked public opinion, which Washington, as astatesman, watched and cultivated as an essential element of successin his difficult business. He disliked to take extreme measures, butthere was nothing else to be done when his men were starving, whennearly three thousand of them were unfit for duty because "barefootand otherwise naked, " and when a large part of the army were obligedto sit up all night by the fires for warmth's sake, having no blanketswith which to cover themselves if they lay down. With nothing to eat, nothing to burn, nothing wherewith to clothe themselves, wasting awayfrom exposure and disease, we can only wonder at the forbearance whichstayed the hand of violent seizure so long. Yet, as Washington hadforeseen, there was even then an outcry against him. Nevertheless, hisaction ultimately did more good than harm in the very matter of publicopinion, for it opened men's eyes, and led to some tardy improvementsand some increased effort. 

Worse even than this criticism was the remonstrance of the legislatureof Pennsylvania against the going into winter-quarters. They expectedWashington to keep the open field, and even to attack the British, with his starving, ragged army, in all the severity of a northernwinter. They had failed him at every point and in every promise, inmen, clothing, and supplies. They were not content that he coveredtheir State and kept the Revolution alive among the huts of ValleyForge. They wished the impossible. They asked for the moon, and thencried out because it was not given to them. It was a stupid, unkindthing to do, and Washington answered their complaints in a letter tothe president of Congress. After setting forth the shortcomings of thePennsylvanians in the very plainest of plain English, he said: "Butwhat makes this matter still more extraordinary in my eye is thatthese very gentlemen should think a winter's campaign, and thecovering of these States from the invasion of an enemy, so easy andpracticable a business. I can answer those gentlemen, that it is amuch easier and less distressing thing to draw remonstrances in acomfortable room, by a good fireside, than to occupy a cold, bleakhill, and sleep under frost and snow, without clothes or blankets. However, although they seem to have little feeling for the naked anddistressed soldiers, I feel superabundantly for them, and from my soulI pity those miseries which it is neither in my power to relieve orprevent. "

This was not a safe man for the gentlemen of Pennsylvania to cross toofar, nor could they swerve him, with all his sense of public opinion, one jot from what he meant to do. In the stern rebuke, and in thedeep pathos of these sentences, we catch a glimpse of the silent andself-controlled man breaking out for a moment as he thinks of hisfaithful and suffering men. Whatever happened, he would hold themtogether, for in this black time we detect the fear which hauntedhim, that the people at large might give way. He was determined onindependence. He felt a keen hatred against England for her wholeconduct toward America, and this hatred was sharpened by the effortsof the English to injure him personally by forged letters and otherdespicable contrivances. He was resolved that England should neverprevail, and his language in regard to her has a fierceness of tonewhich is full of meaning. He was bent, also, on success, and if underthe long strain the people should weaken or waver, he was determinedto maintain the army at all hazards. 

So, while he struggled against cold and hunger and destitution, while he contended with faction at home and lukewarmness in theadministration of the war, even then, in the midst of these trials, hewas devising a new system for the organization and permanence of hisforces. Congress meddled with the matter of prisoners and with thepromotion of officers, and he argued with and checked them, and stillpressed on in his plans. He insisted that officers must have betterprovision, for they had begun to resign. "You must appeal to theirinterest as well as to their patriotism, " he wrote, "and you must givethem half-pay and full pay in proper measure. " "You must follow thesame policy with the men, " he said; "you must have done with shortenlistments. In a word, gentlemen, you must give me an army, a lasting, enduring, continental army, for therein liesindependence. "[1] It all comes out now, through the dust of detailsand annoyances, through the misery and suffering of that wretchedwinter, through the shrill cries of ignorance and hostility, --thegreat, clear, strong policy which meant to substitute an army formilitia, and thereby secure victory and independence. It is the burdenof all his letters to the governors of States, and to his officerseverywhere. "I will hold the army together, " he said, "but you on allsides must help me build it up. "[1]

[Footnote 1: These two quotations are not literal, of course, but givethe substance of many letters. ]

Thus with much strenuous labor and many fervent appeals he held hisarmy together in some way, and slowly improved it. His system began tobe put in force, his reiterated lessons were coming home to Congress, and his reforms and suggestions were in some measure adopted. Underthe sound and trained guidance of Baron Steuben a drill and disciplinewere introduced, which soon showed marked results. Greene succeededMifflin as quartermaster-general, and brought order out of chaos. TheConway cabal went to pieces, and as spring opened Washington began tosee light once more. To have held on through that winter was a greatfeat, but to have built up and improved the army at such a time wasmuch more wonderful. It shows a greatness of character and a force ofwill rarer than military genius, and enables us to understand better, perhaps, than almost any of his victories, why it was that the successof the Revolution lay in such large measure in the hands of one man. 

After Howe's withdrawal from the Jerseys in the previous year, acontemporary wrote that Washington was left with the remnants of anarmy "to scuffle for liberty. " The winter had passed, and he wasprepared to scuffle again. On May 11 Sir Henry Clinton relieved SirWilliam Howe at Philadelphia, and the latter took his departure ina blaze of mock glory and resplendent millinery, known as theMischianza, a fit close to a career of failure, which he was too dullto appreciate. The new commander was more active than his predecessor, but no cleverer, and no better fitted to cope with Washington. It wasanother characteristic choice on the part of the British ministry, whocould never muster enough intellect to understand that the Americanswould fight, and that they were led by a really great soldier. Thecoming of Clinton did not alter existing conditions. 

Expecting a movement by the enemy, Washington sent Lafayette forwardto watch Philadelphia. Clinton and Howe, eager for a victory beforedeparture, determined to cut him off, and by a rapid movement nearlysucceeded in so doing. Timely information, presence of mind, andquickness alone enabled the young Frenchman to escape, narrowly butcompletely. Meantime, a cause for delay, that curse of the Britishthroughout the war, supervened. A peace commission, consisting of theEarl of Carlisle, William Eden, and Governor Johnstone, arrived. Theywere excellent men, but they came too late. Their propositions threeyears before would have been well enough, but as it was they wereworse than nothing. Coolly received, they held a fruitless interviewwith a committee of Congress, tried to bribe and intrigue, found thattheir own army had been already ordered to evacuate Philadelphiawithout their knowledge, and finally gave up their task inangry despair, and returned to England to join in the chorus offault-finding which was beginning to sound very loud in ministerialears. 

Meanwhile, Washington waited and watched, puzzled by the delay, andhoping only to harass Sir Henry with militia on the march to New York. But as the days slipped by, the Americans grew stronger, while theBritish had been weakened by wholesale desertions. When he finallystarted, he had with him probably sixteen to seventeen thousand men, while the Americans had apparently at least thirteen thousand, nearlyall continental troops. [1] Under these circumstances, Washingtondetermined to bring on a battle. He was thwarted at the outset by hisofficers, as was wont to be the case. Lee had returned more whimsicalthan ever, and at the moment was strongly adverse to an attack, andwas full of wise saws about building a bridge of gold for the flyingenemy. The ascendancy which, as an English officer, he still retainedenabled him to get a certain following, and the councils of warwhich were held compared unfavorably, as Hamilton put it, with thedeliberations of midwives. Washington was harassed of course by allthis, but he did not stay his purpose, and as soon as he knew thatClinton actually had marched, he broke camp at Valley Forge andstarted in pursuit. There were more councils of an old-womanishcharacter, but finally Washington took the matter into his ownhands, and ordered forth a strong detachment to attack the Britishrear-guard. They set out on the 25th, and as Lee, to whom the commandbelonged, did not care to go, Lafayette was put in charge. As soon asLafayette had departed, however, Lee changed his mind, and insistedthat all the detachments in front, amounting to five thousand men, formed a division so large that it was unjust not to give him thecommand. Washington, therefore, sent him forward next day with twoadditional brigades, and then Lee by seniority took command on the27th of the entire advance. 

[Footnote 1: The authorities are hopelessly conflicting as to thenumbers on both sides. The British returns on March 26 showed over19, 000 men. They had since that date been weakened by desertions, butto what extent we can only conjecture. The detachments to Floridaand the West Indies ordered from England do not appear to have takenplace. The estimate of 16, 000 to 17, 000 seems the most reasonable. Washington returned his rank and file as just over 10, 000, which wouldindicate a total force of 13, 000 to 14, 000, possibly more. Washingtonclearly underestimated the enemy, and the best conclusion seems to bethat they were nearly matched in numbers, with a slight inferiority onthe American side. ]

In the evening of that day, Washington came up, reconnoitred theenemy, and saw that, although their position was a strong one, anotherday's unmolested march would make it still stronger. He thereforeresolved to attack the next morning, and gave Lee then and thereexplicit orders to that effect. In the early dawn he dispatchedsimilar orders, but Lee apparently did nothing except move feeblyforward, saying to Lafayette, "You don't know the British soldiers;we cannot stand against them. " He made a weak attempt to cut off acovering party, marched and countermarched, ordered and countermanded, until Lafayette and Wayne, eager to fight, knew not what to do, andsent hot messages to Washington to come to them. 

Thus hesitating and confused, Lee permitted Clinton to get his baggageand train to the front, and to mass all his best troops in the rearunder Cornwallis, who then advanced against the American lines. Nowthere were no orders at all, and the troops did not know what to do, or where to go. They stood still, then began to fall back, and then toretreat. A very little more and there would have been a rout. As itwas, Washington alone prevented disaster. His early reports from thefront from Dickinson's outlying party, and from Lee himself, were allfavorable. Then he heard the firing, and putting the main army inmotion, he rode rapidly forward. First he encountered a straggler, whotalked of defeat. He could not believe it, and the fellow was pushedaside and silenced. Then came another and another, all with songs ofdeath. Finally, officers and regiments began to come. No one knew whythey fled, or what had happened. As the ill tidings grew thicker, Washington spurred sharper and rode faster through the deep sand, andunder the blazing midsummer sun. At last he met Lee and the main bodyall in full retreat. He rode straight at Lee, savage with anger, notpleasant to look at, one may guess, and asked fiercely and with a deepoath, tradition says, what it all meant. Lee was no coward, and didnot usually lack for words. He was, too, a hardened man of the world, and, in the phrase of that day, impudent to boot. But then and therehe stammered and hesitated. The fierce question was repeated. Leegathered himself and tried to excuse and palliate what had happened, but although the brief words that followed are variously reported tous across the century, we know that Washington rebuked him in such away, and with such passion, that all was over between them. Lee hadcommitted the one unpardonable sin in the eyes of his commander. Hehad failed to fight when the enemy was upon him. He had disobeyedorders and retreated. It was the end of him. He went to the rear, thence to a court-martial, thence to dismissal and to a solitary lifewith a well-founded suspicion of treason hanging about him. He was anintelligent, quick-witted, unstable man, much overrated because hewas an English officer among a colonial people. He was ever treatedmagnanimously by Washington after the day of battle at Monmouth, buthe then disappeared from the latter's life. 

When Lee bowed before the storm and stepped aside, Washington was leftto deal with the danger and confusion around him. Thus did he tell thestory afterwards to his brother: "A retreat, however, was the fact, bethe causes what they may; and the disorder arising from it would haveproved fatal to the army, had not that bountiful Providence, which hasnever failed us in the hour of distress, enabled me to form a regimentor two (of those that were retreating) in the face of the enemy, andunder their fire; by which means a stand was made long enough (theplace through which the enemy were pressing being narrow) to form thetroops, that were advancing, upon an advantageous piece of ground inthe rear. " We cannot add much to these simple and modest words, forthey tell the whole story. Having put Lee aside, Washington ralliedthe broken troops, brought them into position, turned them back, andheld the enemy in check. It was not an easy feat, but it was done, andwhen Lee's division again fell back in good order the main army was inposition, and the action became general. The British were repulsed, and then Washington, taking the offensive, drove them back until heoccupied the battlefield of the morning. Night came upon him stilladvancing. He halted his army, lay down under a tree, his soldierslying on their arms about him, and planned a fresh attack, to be madeat daylight. But when the dawn came it was seen that the British hadcrept off, and were far on their road. The heat prevented a rapidpursuit, and Clinton got into New York. Between there and Philadelphiahe had lost at least two thousand men by desertions in addition tonearly five hundred who fell at Monmouth. 

It is worth while to pause a moment and compare this battle with therout of Long Island, the surprise at the Brandywine, and the fatalunsteadiness at Germantown. Here, too, a check was received at theoutset, owing to blundering which no one could have foreseen. Thetroops, confused and without orders, began to retreat, but withoutpanic or disorder. The moment Washington appeared they rallied, returned to the field, showed perfect steadiness, and the victorywas won. Monmouth has never been one of the famous battles of theRevolution, and yet there is no other which can compare with it as anillustration of Washington's ability as a soldier. It was not so muchthe way in which it was fought, although that was fine enough, thatits importance lies as in the evidence which it gives of the wayin which Washington, after a series of defeats, during a winterof terrible suffering and privation, had yet developed his raggedvolunteers into a well-disciplined and effective army. The battle wasa victory, but the existence and the quality of the army that won itwere a far greater triumph. 

The dreary winter at Valley Forge had indeed borne fruit. With aslight numerical superiority Washington had fought the British in theopen field, and fairly defeated them. "Clinton gained no advantage, "said the great Frederic, "except to reach New York with the wreck ofhis army; America is probably lost for England. " Another year hadpassed, and England had lost an army, and still held what she hadbefore, the city of New York. Washington was in the field with abetter army than ever, and an army flushed with a victory which hadbeen achieved after difficulties and trials such as no one now canrightly picture or describe. The American Revolution was advancing, held firm by the master-hand of its leader. Into it, during these daysof struggle and of battle, a new element had come, and the next stepis to see how Washington dealt with the fresh conditions upon whichthe great conflict had entered. 

CHAPTER VIII

THE ALLIES

On May 4, 1778, Congress ratified the treaties of commerce andalliance with France. On the 6th, Washington, waiting at Valley Forgefor the British to start from Philadelphia, caused his army, drawn outon parade, to celebrate the great event with cheers and with salvos ofartillery and musketry. The alliance deserved cheers and celebration, for it marked a long step onward in the Revolution. It showed thatAmerica had demonstrated to Europe that she could win independence, and it had been proved to the traditional enemy of England thatthe time had come when it would be profitable to help the revoltedcolonies. But the alliance brought troubles as well as blessings inits train. It induced a relaxation in popular energy, and carriedwith it new and difficult problems for the commander-in-chief. Thesuccessful management of allies, and of allied forces, had been oneof the severest tests of the statesmanship of William III. , and hadconstituted one of the principal glories of Marlborough. A similarproblem now confronted the American general. 

Washington was free from the diplomatic and political portion of thebusiness, but the military and popular part fell wholly into hishands, and demanded the exercise of talents entirely different fromthose of either a general or an administrator. It has been notinfrequently written more or less plainly, and it is constantly said, that Washington was great in character, but that in brains he wasnot far above the common-place. It is even hinted sometimes that thefather of his country was a dull man, a notion which we shall haveoccasion to examine more fully further on. At this point let thecriticism be remembered merely in connection with the fact thatto coöperate with allies in military matters demands tact, quickperception, firmness, and patience. In a word, it is a task whichcalls for the finest and most highly trained intellectual powers, andof which the difficulty is enhanced a thousandfold when the allies areon the one side, an old, aristocratic, punctilious people, and on theother, colonists utterly devoid of tradition, etiquette, or fixedhabits, and very much accustomed to go their own way and speak theirown minds with careless freedom. With this problem Washington wasobliged suddenly to deal, both in ill success and good success, aswell as in many attempts which came to nothing. Let us see how hesolved it at the very outset, when everything went most perverselywrong. 

On July 14 he heard that D'Estaing's fleet was off the coast, and atonce, without a trace of elation or excitement, he began to considerthe possibility of intercepting the British fleet expected to arriveshortly from Cork. As soon as D'Estaing was within reach he senttwo of his aides on board the flagship, and at once opened acorrespondence with his ally. These letters of welcome, and those ofsuggestion which followed, are models, in their way, of what suchletters ought always to be. They were perfectly adapted to satisfy theetiquette and the love of good manners of the French, and yet therewas not a trace of anything like servility, or of an effusivegratitude which outran the favors granted. They combined statelycourtesy with simple dignity, and are phrased with a sober grace whichshows the thoroughly strong man, as capable to turn a sentence, ifneed be, as to rally retreating soldiers in the face of the enemy. 

In this first meeting of the allies nothing happened fortunately. D'Estaing had had a long passage, and was too late to cut off LordHowe at the Delaware. Then he turned to New York, and was too latethere, and found further that he could not get his ships over the bar. Hence more delays, so that he was late again in getting to Newport, where he was to unite with Sullivan in driving the British from RhodeIsland, as Washington had planned, in case of failure at New York, while the French were still hovering on the coast. When D'Estaingfinally reached Newport, there was still another delay of ten days, and then, just as he and Sullivan were preparing to attack, Lord Howe, with his squadron reinforced, appeared off the harbor. Promising toreturn, D'Estaing sailed out to give the enemy battle, and aftermuch manoeuvring both fleets were driven off by a severe storm, andD'Estaing came back only to tell Sullivan that he must go to Boston atonce to refit. Then came the protest addressed to the Count and signedby all the American officers; then the departure of D'Estaing, and anindiscreet proclamation to the troops by Sullivan, reflecting on theconduct of the allies. 

When D'Estaing had actually gone, and the Americans were obliged toretreat, there was much grumbling in all directions, and it looked asif the first result of the alliance was to be a very pretty quarrel. It was a bad and awkward business. Congress had the good sense tosuppress the protest of the officers, and Washington, disappointed, but perhaps not wholly surprised, set himself to work to put mattersright. It was no easy task to soothe the French, on the one hand, whowere naturally aggrieved at the utterances of the American officersand at the popular feeling, and on the other to calm his own people, who were, not without reason, both disappointed and provoked. ToSullivan, fuming with wrath, he wrote: "Should the expedition failthrough the abandonment of the French fleet, the officers concernedwill be apt to complain loudly. But prudence dictates that we shouldput the best face upon the matter, and to the world attribute theremoval to Boston to necessity. The reasons are too obvious to needexplaining. " And again, a few days later: "First impressions, youknow, are generally longest remembered, and will serve to fix in agreat degree our national character among the French. In our conducttowards them we should remember that they are a people old in war, very strict in military etiquette, and apt to take fire when othersscarcely seem warmed. Permit me to recommend, in the most particularmanner, the cultivation of harmony and good agreement, and yourendeavor to destroy that ill-humor which may have got into officers. "To Lafayette he wrote: "Everybody, sir, who reasons, will acknowledgethe advantages which we have derived from the French fleet, and thezeal of the commander of it; but in a free and republican governmentyou cannot restrain the voice of the multitude. Every man will speakas he thinks, or, more properly, without thinking, and consequentlywill judge of effects without attending to the causes. The censureswhich have been leveled at the French fleet would more than probablyhave fallen in a much higher degree upon a fleet of our own, if wehad had one in the same situation. It is the nature of man to bedispleased with everything that disappoints a favorite hope orflattering project; and it is the folly of too many of them to condemnwithout investigating circumstances. " Finally he wrote to D'Estaing, deploring the difference which had arisen, mentioning his own effortsand wishes to restore harmony, and said: "It is in the tryingcircumstances to which your Excellency has been exposed that thevirtues of a great mind are displayed in their brightest lustre, andthat a general's character is better known than in the moment ofvictory. It was yours by every title that can give it; and the adverseelements that robbed you of your prize can never deprive you ofthe glory due you. Though your success has not been equal to yourexpectations, yet you have the satisfaction of reflecting that youhave rendered essential services to the common cause. " This is not theletter of a dull man. Indeed, there is a nicety about it that partakesof cleverness, a much commoner thing than greatness, but somethingwhich all great men by no means possess. Thus by tact andcomprehension of human nature, by judicious suppression and equallyjudicious letters, Washington, through the prudent exercise of all hiscommanding influence, quieted his own people and soothed his allies. In this way a serious disaster was averted, and an abortive expeditionwas all that was left to be regretted, instead of an ugly quarrel, which might readily have neutralized the vast advantages flowing fromthe French alliance. Having refitted, D'Estaing bore away for the WestIndies, and so closed the first chapter in the history of the alliancewith France. Nothing more was heard of the allies until the spring waswell advanced, when M. Gerard, the minister, wrote, intimating thatD'Estaing was about to return, and asking what we would do. Washingtonreplied at length, professing his willingness to coöperate in any way, and offering, if the French would send ships, to abandon everything, run all risks, and make an attack on New York. Nothing further cameof it, and Washington heard that the fleet had gone to the SouthernStates, which he learned without regret, as he was apprehensive as tothe condition of affairs in that region. Again, in the autumn, itwas reported that the fleet was once more upon the northern coast. Washington at once sent officers to be on the lookout at the mostlikely points, and he wrote elaborately to D'Estaing, setting forthwith wonderful perspicuity the incidents of the past, the condition ofthe present, and the probabilities of the future. He was willing to doanything, or plan anything, provided his allies would join with him. The jealousy so habitual in humanity, which is afraid that some oneelse may get the glory of a common success, was unknown to Washington, and if he could but drive the British from America, and establishAmerican independence, he was perfectly willing that the glory shouldtake care of itself. But all his wisdom in dealing with the allieswas, for the moment, vain. While he was planning for a great stroke, and calling out the militia of New England, D'Estaing was making readyto relieve Georgia, and a few days after Washington wrote his secondletter, the French and Americans assaulted the British works atSavannah, and were repulsed with heavy losses. Then D'Estaing sailedaway again, and the second effort of France to aid England's revoltedcolonies came to an end. Their presence had had a good moral effect, and the dread of D'Estaing's return had caused Clinton to withdrawfrom Newport and concentrate in New York. This was all that wasactually accomplished, and there was nothing for it but to await stillanother trial and a more convenient season. 

With all his courtesy and consideration, with all his readiness tofall in with the wishes and schemes of the French, it must not besupposed that Washington ever went an inch too far in this direction. He valued the French alliance, and proposed to use it to greatpurpose, but he was not in the least dazzled or blinded by it. Evenin the earliest glow of excitement and hope produced by D'Estaing'sarrival, Washington took occasion to draw once more the distinctionbetween a valuable alliance and volunteer adventurers, and toremonstrate again with Congress about their reckless profusion indealing with foreign officers. To Gouverneur Morris he wrote on July24, 1778: "The lavish manner in which rank has hitherto been bestowedon these gentlemen will certainly be productive of one or the other ofthese two evils: either to make it despicable in the eyes of Europe, or become the means of pouring them in upon us like a torrent andadding to our present burden. But it is neither the expense nor thetrouble of them that I most dread. There is an evil more extensive inits nature, and fatal in its consequences, to be apprehended, andthat is the driving of all our own officers out of the service, andthrowing not only our army, but our military councils, entirely intothe hands of foreigners. .. . Baron Steuben, I now find, is also wantingto quit his inspectorship for a command in the line. This will beproductive of much discontent to the brigadiers. In a word, although Ithink the baron an excellent officer, I do most devoutly wish that wehad not a single foreigner among us except the Marquis de Lafayette, who acts upon very different principles from those which govern therest. " A few days later he said, on the same theme, to the presidentof Congress: "I trust you think me so much a citizen of the world asto believe I am not easily warped or led away by attachments merelylocal and American; yet I confess I am not entirely without them, nordoes it appear to me that they are unwarrantable, if confined withinproper limits. Fewer promotions in the foreign line would have beenproductive of more harmony, and made our warfare more agreeable to allparties. " Again, he said of Steuben: "I regret that there should be anecessity that his services should be lost to the army; at the sametime I think it my duty explicitly to observe to Congress that hisdesire of having an actual and permanent command in the line cannot becomplied with without wounding the feelings of a number of officers, whose rank and merits give them every claim to attention; and that thedoing of it would be productive of much dissatisfaction and extensiveill consequences. "

Washington's resistance to the colonial deference for foreigners hasalready been pointed out, but this second burst of opposition, comingat this especial time, deserves renewed attention. The splendid fleetand well-equipped troops of our ally were actually at our gates, andeverybody was in a paroxysm of perfectly natural gratitude. To thecolonial mind, steeped in colonial habits of thought, the foreigner atthis particular juncture appeared more than ever to be a splendid andsuperior being. But he did not in the least confuse or sway the cooljudgment that guided the destinies of the Revolution. Let us considerwell the pregnant sentences just quoted, and the letters from whichthey are taken. They deserve it, for they throw a strong light on aside of Washington's mind and character too little appreciated. Onehears it said not infrequently, it has been argued even in print withsome solemnity, that Washington was, no doubt, a great man and rightlya national hero, but that he was not an American. It will be necessaryto recur to this charge again and consider it at some length. It issufficient at this point to see how it tallies with his conduct ina single matter, which was a very perfect test of the national andAmerican quality of the man. We can get at the truth by contrastinghim with his own contemporaries, the only fair comparison, for he wasa man and an American of his own time and not of the present day, which is a point his critics overlook. 

Where he differed from the men of his own time was in the fact that herose to a breadth and height of Americanism and of national feelingwhich no other man of that day touched at all. Nothing is more intensethan the conservatism of mental habits, and although it requires nowan effort to realize it, it should not be forgotten that in everyhabit of thought the inhabitants of the thirteen colonies were whollycolonial. If this is properly appreciated we can understand the mentalbreadth and vigor which enabled Washington to shake off at once allpast habits and become an independent leader of an independentpeople. He felt to the very core of his being the need of nationalself-respect and national dignity. To him, as the chief of the armiesand the head of the Revolution, all men, no matter what tongue theyspake or what country they came from, were to be dealt with on afooting of simple equality, and treated according to their merits. There was to him no glamour in the fact that this man was a Frenchmanand that an Englishman. His own personal pride extended to his people, and he bowed to no national superiority anywhere. Hamilton wasnational throughout, but he was born outside the thirteen colonies, and knew his fellow-citizens only as Americans. Franklin was nationalby the force of his own commanding genius. John Adams grew to the sameconception, so far as our relations to other nations were concerned. But beyond these three we may look far and closely before we findanother among all the really great men of the time who freed himselfwholly from the superstition of the colonist about the nations ofEurope. 

When Washington drew his sword beneath the Cambridge elm he stoodforth as the first American, the best type of man that the New Worldcould produce, with no provincial taint upon him, and no shadow of thecolonial past clouding his path. It was this great quality that gavethe struggle which he led a character it would never have attainedwithout a leader so constituted. Had he been merely a colonialEnglishman, had he not risen at once to the conception of an Americannation, the world would have looked at us with very different eyes. It was the personal dignity of the man, quite as much as his fightingcapacity, which impressed Europe. Kings and ministers, looking ondispassionately, soon realized that here was no ordinary agitatoror revolutionist, but a great man on a great stage with greatconceptions. England, indeed, talked about a militia colonel, but thischatter disappeared in the smoke of Trenton, and even England came tolook upon him as the all-powerful spirit of the Revolution. Dull menand colonial squires do not grasp a great idea and carry it intoaction on the world's stage in a few months. To stand forward at thehead of raw armies and of a colonial people as a national leader, calm, dignified, and far-seeing, requires not only character, butintellect of the highest and strongest kind. Now that we have comeas a people, after more than a century's struggle, to the nationalfeeling which Washington compassed in a moment, it is well to considerthat single achievement and to meditate on its meaning, whether inestimating him, or in gauging what he was to the American people whenthey came into existence. 

Let us take another instance of the same quality, shown also in thewinter of 1778. Congress had from the beginning a longing to conquerCanada, which was a wholly natural and entirely laudable desire, forconquest is always more interesting than defense. Washington, on theother hand, after the first complete failure, which was so nearlya success in the then undefended and unsuspicious country, gave uppretty thoroughly all ideas of attacking Canada again, and opposedthe various plans of Congress in that direction. When he had alife-and-death struggle to get together and subsist enough mento protect their own firesides, he had ample reason to know thatinvasions of Canada were hopeless. Indeed, not much active oppositionfrom the commander-in-chief was needed to dispose of the Canadianschemes, for facts settled them as fast as they arose. When thecabal got up its Canadian expedition, it consisted of Lafayette, andpenetrated no farther than Albany. So Washington merely kept his eyewatchfully on Canada, and argued against expeditions thither, untilthis winter of 1778, when something quite new in that direction cameup. 

Lafayette's imagination had been fired by the notion of conqueringCanada. His idea was to get succors from France for this especialpurpose, and with them and American aid to achieve the conquest. Congress was impressed and pleased by the scheme, and sent a reportupon it to Franklin, to communicate to the French court, butWashington, when he heard of the plan, took a very different view. He sent at once a long dispatch to Congress, urging every possibleobjection to the proposed campaign, on the ground of its utterimpracticability, and with this official letter, which was necessarilyconfined to the military side of the question, went another addressedto President Laurens personally, which contained the deeper reasons ofhis opposition. He said that there was an objection not touched uponin his public letter, which was absolutely insurmountable. This wasthe introduction of French troops into Canada to take possession ofthe capital, in the midst of a people of their own race and religion, and but recently severed from them. 

He pointed out the enormous advantages which would accrue to Francefrom the possession of Canada, such as independent posts, control ofthe Indians, and the Newfoundland trade. "France, . .. Possessed of NewOrleans on our right, Canada on our left, and seconded by thenumerous tribes of Indians in our rear, . .. Would, it is much to beapprehended, have it in her power to give law to these States. " Hewent on to show that France might easily find an excuse for suchconduct, in seeking a surety for her advances of money, and that shehad but little to fear from the contingency of our being driven toreunite with England. He continued: "Men are very apt to run intoextremes. Hatred to England may carry some into an excess ofconfidence in France, especially when motives of gratitude are throwninto the scale. Men of this description would be unwilling to supposeFrance capable of acting so ungenerous a part. I am heartily disposedto entertain the most favorable sentiments of our new ally, and tocherish them in others to a reasonable degree. But it is a maxim, founded on the universal experience of mankind, that no nation isto be trusted farther than it is bound by its own interest; and noprudent statesman or politician will venture to depart from it. In ourcircumstances we ought to be particularly cautious; for we have notyet attained sufficient vigor and maturity to recover from the shockof any false steps into which we may unwarily fall. "

We shall have occasion to recall these utterances at a later day, butat this time they serve to show yet again how broadly and clearlyWashington judged nations and policies. Uppermost in his mind was thedestiny of his own nation, just coming into being, and from that firmpoint he watched and reasoned. His words had no effect on Congress, but as it turned out, the plan failed through adverse influences inthe quarter where Washington least expected them. He believed thatthis Canadian plan had been put into Lafayette's mind by the cabinetof Louis XVI. , and he could not imagine that a policy of such obviouswisdom could be overlooked by French statesmen. In this he wascompletely mistaken, for France failed to see what seemed so simple tothe American general, that the opportunity had come to revive her oldAmerican policy and reestablish her colonies under the most favorableconditions. The ministers of Louis XVI. , moreover, did not wish thecolonies to conquer Canada, and the plan of Lafayette and the Congressreceived no aid in Paris and came to nothing. But the fruitlessincident exhibits in the strongest light the attitude of Washington asa purely American statesman, and the comprehensiveness of his mind indealing with large affairs. 

The French alliance and the coming of the French fleet were ofincalculable advantage to the colonies, but they had one evil effect, as has already been suggested. To a people weary with unequalconflict, it was a debilitating influence, and America needed at thatmoment more than ever energy and vigor, both in the council andthe field. Yet the general outlook was distinctly better and moreencouraging. Soon after Washington had defeated Clinton at Monmouth, and had taken a position whence he could watch and check him, he wroteto his friend General Nelson in Virginia:--

"It is not a little pleasing, nor less wonderful to contemplate, that, after two years' manoeuvring and undergoing the strangest vicissitudesthat perhaps ever attended any one contest since the creation, botharmies are brought back to the very point they set out from, and thatthe offending party at the beginning is now reduced to the spade andpickaxe for defense. The hand of Providence has been so conspicuous inall this that he must be worse than an infidel that lacks faith, andmore than wicked that has not gratitude enough to acknowledge hisobligations. But it will be time enough for me to turn preacher whenmy present appointment ceases. "

He had reason to congratulate himself on the result of his two years'campaigning, but as the summer wore away and winter came on he foundcauses for fresh and deep alarm, despite the good outlook in thefield. The demoralizing effects of civil war were beginning to showthemselves in various directions. The character of Congress, in pointof ability, had declined alarmingly, for the ablest men of the firstCongress, with few exceptions, had departed. Some had gone to thearmy, some to the diplomatic service, and many had remained at home, preferring the honors and offices of the States to those of theConfederation. Their successors, patriotic and well-meaning thoughthey were, lacked the energy and force of those who had started theRevolution, and, as a consequence, Congress had become feeble andineffective, easily swayed by influential schemers, and unable to copewith the difficulties which surrounded them. 

Outside the government the popular tone had deteriorated sadly. Thelavish issues of irredeemable paper by the Confederation and theStates had brought their finances to the verge of absolute ruin. Thecontinental currency had fallen to something like forty to one ingold, and the decline was hastened by the forged notes put out by theenemy. The fluctuations of this paper soon bred a spirit of gambling, and hence came a class of men, both inside and outside of politics, who sought, more or less corruptly, to make fortunes by armycontracts, and by forestalling the markets. These developments filledWashington with anxiety, for in the financial troubles he saw ruinto the army. The unpaid troops bore the injustice done them withwonderful patience, but it was something that could not last, andWashington knew the danger. In vain did he remonstrate. It seemed tobe impossible to get anything done, and at last, in the followingspring, the outbreak began. Two New Jersey regiments refused to marchuntil the assembly made provision for their pay. Washington took highground with them, but they stood respectfully firm, and finally hadtheir way. Not long after came another outbreak in the Connecticutline, with similar results. These object lessons had some result, andby foreign loans and the ability of Robert Morris the country wasenabled to stumble along; but it was a frightful and wearing anxietyto the commander-in-chief. 

Washington saw at once that the root of the evil lay in the feeblenessof Congress, and although he could not deal with the finances, he wasable to strive for an improvement in the governing body. Not contentwith letters, he left the army and went to Philadelphia, in the winterof 1779, and there appealed to Congress in person, setting forth theperils which beset them, and urging action. He wrote also to hisfriends everywhere, pointing out the deficiencies of Congress, andbegging them to send better and stronger men. To Benjamin Harrison hewrote: "It appears to me as clear as ever the sun did in its meridianbrightness, that America never stood in more eminent need of the wise, patriotic, and spirited exertions of her sons than at this period; . .. The States separately are too much engaged in their local concerns, and have too many of their ablest men withdrawn from the generalcouncil, for the good of the common weal. " He took the same high tonein all his letters, and there can be seen through it all the desperateendeavor to make the States and the people understand the dangerswhich he realized, but which they either could not or would notappreciate. 

On the other hand, while his anxiety was sharpened to the highestpoint by the character of Congress, his sternest wrath was kindled bythe gambling and money-making which had become rampant. To Reed hewrote in December, 1778: "It gives me sincere pleasure to find thatthere is likely to be a coalition of the Whigs in your State, a fewonly excepted, and that the assembly is so well disposed to secondyour endeavors in bringing those murderers of our cause, themonopolizers, forestallers, and engrossers, to condign punishment. Itis much to be lamented that each State, long ere this, has not huntedthem down as pests to society and the greatest enemies we have tothe happiness of America. I would to God that some one of the mostatrocious in each State was hung in gibbets upon a gallows five timesas high as the one prepared by Haman. No punishment, in my opinion, istoo great for the man who can build his greatness upon his country'sruin. " He would have hanged them too had he had the power, for he wasalways as good as his word. 

It is refreshing to read these righteously angry words, still ringingas sharply as when they were written. They clear away all themyths--the priggish, the cold, the statuesque, the dull myths--as thestrong gusts of the northwest wind in autumn sweep off the heavy mistsof lingering August. They are the hot words of a warm-blooded man, agood hater, who loathed meanness and treachery, and who would havehanged those who battened upon the country's distress. When he wentto Philadelphia, a few weeks later, and saw the state of things withnearer view, he felt the wretchedness and outrage of such doings morethan ever. He wrote to Harrison: "If I were to be called upon to drawa picture of the times and of men, from what I have seen, heard, andin part know, I should in one word say, that idleness, dissipation, and extravagance seem to have laid fast hold of most of them; thatspeculation, peculation, and an insatiable thirst for riches seem tohave got the better of every other consideration, and almost of everyorder of men; that party disputes and personal quarrels are the greatbusiness of the day; whilst the momentous concerns of an empire, agreat and accumulating debt, ruined finances, depreciated money, andwant of credit, which, in its consequences, is the want of everything, are but secondary considerations, and postponed from day to day, fromweek to week, as if our affairs wore the most promising aspect. "

Other men talked about empire, but he alone grasped the greatconception, and felt it in his soul. To see not only immediate successimperiled, but the future paltered with by small, mean, and dishonestmen, cut him to the quick. He set himself doggedly to fight it, as healways fought every enemy, using both speech and pen in all quarters. Much, no doubt, he ultimately effected, but he was contending withthe usual results of civil war, which are demoralizing always, andespecially so among a young people in a new country. At first, therefore, all seemed vain. The selfishness, "peculation, andspeculation" seemed to get worse, and the tone of Congress and thepeople lower, as he struggled against them. In March, 1779, he wroteto James Warren of Massachusetts: "Nothing, I am convinced, butthe depreciation of our currency, aided by stock-jobbing and partydissensions, has fed the hopes of the enemy, and kept the Britisharms in America to this day. They do not scruple to declare thisthemselves, and add that we shall be our own conquerors. Can not ourcommon country, America, possess virtue enough to disappoint them? Isthe paltry consideration of a little pelf to individuals to be placedin competition with the essential rights and liberties of the presentgeneration, and of millions yet unborn? Shall a few designing men, fortheir own aggrandizement, and to gratify their own avarice, oversetthe goodly fabric we have been rearing, at the expense of so muchtime, blood, and treasure? And shall we at last become the victimsof our own lust of gain? Forbid it, Heaven! Forbid it, all and everyState in the Union, by enacting and enforcing efficacious laws forchecking the growth of these monstrous evils, and restoring matters, in some degree, to the state they were in at the commencement of thewar. "

"Our cause is noble. It is the cause of mankind, and the danger to itis to be apprehended from ourselves. Shall we slumber and sleep, then, while we should be punishing those miscreants who have brought thesetroubles upon us, and who are aiming to continue us in them; while weshould be striving to fill our battalions, and devising ways and meansto raise the value of the currency, on the credit of which everythingdepends?" Again we see the prevailing idea of the future, whichhaunted him continually. Evidently, he had some imagination, andalso a power of terse and eloquent expression which we have heard ofbefore, and shall note again. 

Still the appeals seemed to sound in deaf ears. He wrote to GeorgeMason: "I have seen, without despondency, even for a moment, the hourswhich America has styled her gloomy ones; but I have beheld noday since the commencement of hostilities that I have thought herliberties in such imminent danger as at present. .. . Indeed, we areverging so fast to destruction that I am filled with sensations towhich I have been a stranger till within these three months. " ToGouverneur Morris he said: "If the enemy have it in their power topress us hard this campaign, I know not what may be the consequence. "He had faced the enemy, the bleak winters, raw soldiers, and all thedifficulties of impecunious government, with a cheerful courage thatnever failed. But the spectacle of widespread popular demoralization, of selfish scrambles for plunder, and of feeble administration atthe centre of government weighed upon him heavily. It was not thegeneral's business to build up Congress and grapple with finance, butWashington addressed himself to the new task with his usual persistentcourage. It was slow and painful work. He seemed to make no progress, and then it was that his spirits sank at the prospect of ruin anddefeat, not coming on the field of battle, but from our own vices andour own lack of energy and wisdom. Yet his work told in the end, as italways did. His vast and steadily growing influence made itself felteven through the dense troubles of the uneasy times. Congress turnedwith energy to Europe for fresh loans. Lafayette worked away to getan army sent over. The two Morrises, stimulated by Washington, flungthemselves into the financial difficulties, and feeble but distinctefforts toward a more concentrated and better organized administrationof public affairs were made both in the States and the confederation. 

But, although Washington's spirits fell, and his anxieties becamewellnigh intolerable in this period of reaction which followed theFrench alliance, he made no public show of it, but carried on his ownwork with the army and in the field as usual, contending with all thedifficulties, new and old, as calmly and efficiently as ever. AfterClinton slipped away from Monmouth and sought refuge in New York, Washington took post at convenient points and watched the movementsof the enemy. In this way the summer passed. As always, Washington'sfirst object was to guard the Hudson, and while he held this vitalpoint firmly, he waited, ready to strike elsewhere if necessary. Itlooked for a time as if the British intended to descend on Boston, seize the town, and destroy the French fleet, which had gone thereto refit. Such was the opinion of Gates, then commanding in thatdepartment, and as Washington inclined to the same belief, the fear ofthis event gave him many anxious moments. He even moved his troopsso as to be in readiness to march eastward at short notice; but hegradually became convinced that the enemy had no such plan. Muchof his thought, now and always, was given to efforts to divine theintentions of the British generals. They had so few settled ideas, and were so tardy and lingering when they had plans, that it is smallwonder that their opponents were sorely puzzled in trying to find outwhat their purposes were, when they really had none. The fact was thatWashington saw their military opportunities with the eye of a greatsoldier, and so much better than they, that he suffered a good deal ofneedless anxiety in devising methods to meet attacks which they hadnot the wit to undertake. He had a profound contempt for their policyof holding towns, and believing that they must see the utter futilityof it, after several years of trial, he constantly expected from thema well-planned and extensive campaign, which in reality they wereincapable of devising. 

The main army, therefore, remained quiet, and when the autumn hadpassed went into winter-quarters in well-posted detachments about NewYork. In December Clinton made an ineffectual raid, and then all waspeaceful again, and Washington was able to go to Philadelphia andstruggle with Congress, leaving his army more comfortable and securethan they had been in any previous winter. 

In January he informed Congress as to the next campaign. He showedthem the impossibility of undertaking anything on a large scale, andannounced his intention of remaining on the defensive. It was a tryingpolicy to a man of his temper, but he could do no better, and he knew, now as always, what others could not yet see, that by simply holdingon and keeping his army in the field he was slowly but surely winningindependence. He tried to get Congress to do something with the navy, and he planned an expedition, under the command of Sullivan, tooverrun the Indian country and check the barbarous raids of the Toriesand savages on the frontier; and with this he was fain to be content. In fact, he perceived very clearly the direction in which the war wastending. He kept up his struggle with Congress for a permanent army, and with the old persistency pleaded that something should be done forthe officers, and at the same time he tried to keep the States in goodhumor when they were grumbling about the amount of protection affordedthem. 

But all this wear and tear of heart and brain and temper, while givenchiefly to hold the army together, was not endured with anynotion that he and Clinton were eventually to fight it out in theneighborhood of New York. Washington felt that that part of theconflict was over. He now hoped and believed that the moment wouldcome, when, by uniting his army with the French, he should be able tostrike the decisive blow. Until that time came, however, he knew thathe could do nothing on a great scale, and he felt that meanwhile theBritish, abandoning practically the eastern and middle States, wouldmake one last desperate struggle for victory, and would make it in thesouth. Long before any one else, he appreciated this fact, and saw aperil looming large in that region, where everybody was consideringthe British invasion as little more than an exaggerated raid. Heforesaw, too, that we should suffer more there than we had in theextreme north, because the south was full of Tories and less wellorganized. 

All this, however, did not change his own plans one jot. He believedthat the south must work out its own salvation, as New York and NewEngland had done with Burgoyne, and he felt sure that in the end itwould be successful. But he would not go south, nor take his armythere. The instinct of a great commander for the vital point in a waror a battle, is as keen as that of the tiger is said to be for thejugular vein of its victim. The British might overrun the north orinvade the south, but he would stay where he was, with his grip uponNew York and the Hudson River. The tide of invasion might ebb and flowin this region or that, but the British were doomed if they could notdivide the eastern colonies from the others. When the appointed hourcame, he was ready to abandon everything and strike the final andfatal blow; but until then he waited and stood fast with his army, holding the great river in his grasp. He felt much more anxiety aboutthe south than he had felt about the north, and expected Congress toconsult him as to a commander, having made up his mind that Greene wasthe man to send. But Congress still believed in Gates, who had beenmaking trouble for Washington all winter; and so Gates was sent, and Congress in due time got their lesson, and found once more thatWashington understood men better than they did. 

In the north the winter was comparatively uneventful. The springpassed, and in June Clinton came out and took possession of StonyPoint and Verplanck's Point, and began to fortify them. It looked alittle as if Clinton might intend to get control of the Hudson byslow approaches, fortifying, and then advancing until he reached WestPoint. With this in mind, Washington at once determined to check theBritish by striking sharply at one of their new posts. Having madeup his mind, he sent for Wayne and asked him if he would storm StonyPoint. Tradition says that Wayne replied, "I will storm hell, if youwill plan it. " A true tradition, probably, in keeping with Wayne'scharacter, and pleasant to us to-day as showing with a vivid gleam ofrough human speech the utter confidence of the army in their leader, that confidence which only a great soldier can inspire. So Washingtonplanned, and Wayne stormed, and Stony Point fell. It was a gallant andbrilliant feat of arms, one of the most brilliant of the war. Overfive hundred prisoners were taken, the guns were carried off, and theworks destroyed, leaving the British to begin afresh with a good dealof increased caution and respect. Not long after, Harry Lee stormedPaulus Hook with equal success, and the British were checked andarrested, if they intended any extensive movement. On the frontier, Sullivan, after some delays, did his work effectively, ravaging theIndian towns and reducing them to quiet, thus taking away anotherannoyance and danger. 

In these various ways Clinton's circle of activity was steadilynarrowed, but it may be doubted whether he had any coherent plan. The principal occupation of the British was to send out maraudingexpeditions and cut off outlying parties. Tryon burned and pillagedin Connecticut, Matthews in Virginia, and others on a smaller scaleelsewhere in New Jersey and New York. The blundering stupidity of thissystem of warfare was only equaled by its utter brutality. Houses wereburned, peaceful villages went up in smoke, women and children wereoutraged, and soldiers were bayoneted after they had surrendered. These details of the Revolution are wellnigh forgotten now, but whenthe ear is wearied with talk about English generosity and love of fairplay, it is well to turn back and study the exploits of Tryon, and itis not amiss in the same connection to recall that English budgetscontained a special appropriation for scalping-knives, a delicateattention to the Tories and Indians who were burning and butchering onthe frontier. 

Such methods of warfare Washington despised intellectually, and hatedmorally. He saw that every raid only hardened the people againstEngland, and made her cause more hopeless. The misery caused by theseraids angered him, but he would not retaliate in kind, and Waynebayoneted no English soldiers after they laid down their arms at StonyPoint. It was enough for Washington to hold fast to the great objectshe had in view, to check Clinton and circumscribe his movements. Steadfastly he did this through the summer and winter of 1779, whichproved one of the worst that he had yet endured. Supplies did notcome, the army dwindled, and the miseries of Valley Forge wererenewed. Again was repeated the old and pitiful story of appeals toCongress and the States, and again the undaunted spirit and strenuousexertions of Washington saved the army and the Revolution from theinternal ruin which was his worst enemy. When the new year began, hesaw that he was again condemned to a defensive campaign, but this madelittle difference now, for what he had foreseen in the spring of 1779became certainty in the autumn. The active war was transferred to thesouth, where the chapter of disasters was beginning, and Clinton hadpractically given up everything except New York. The war had takenon the new phase expected by Washington. Weak as he was, he began todetach troops, and prepared to deal with the last desperate effort ofEngland to conquer her revolted colonies from the south. 

CHAPTER IX

ARNOLD'S TREASON, AND THE WAR IN THE SOUTH

The spring of 1780 was the beginning of a period of inactivity anddisappointment, of diligent effort and frustrated plans. During themonths which ensued before the march to the south, Washington passedthrough a stress of harassing anxiety, which was far worse thananything he had to undergo at any other time. Plans were formed, onlyto fail. Opportunities arose, only to pass by unfulfilled. The networkof hostile conditions bound him hand and foot, and it seemed at timesas if he could never break the bonds that held him, or prevent or holdback the moral, social, and political dissolution going on about him. With the aid of France, he meant to strike one decisive blow, and endthe struggle. Every moment was of importance, and yet the days andweeks and months slipped by, and he could get nothing done. He couldneither gain control of the sea, nor gather sufficient forces of hisown, although delay now meant ruin. He saw the British overrun thesouth, and he could not leave the Hudson. He was obliged to sacrificethe southern States, and yet he could get neither ships nor men toattack New York. The army was starving and mutinous, and he soughtrelief in vain. The finances were ruined, Congress was helpless, theStates seemed stupefied. Treason of the most desperate kind suddenlyreared its head, and threatened the very citadel of the Revolution. These were the days of the war least familiar to posterity. Theyare unmarked in the main by action or fighting, and on this drearymonotony nothing stands out except the black stain of Arnold'streason. Yet it was the time of all others when Washington had most tobear. It was the time of all others when his dogged persistence andunwavering courage alone seemed to sustain the flickering fortunes ofthe war. 

In April Washington was pondering ruefully on the condition of affairsat the south. He saw that the only hope of saving Charleston was inthe defense of the bar; and when that became indefensible, he saw thatthe town ought to be abandoned to the enemy, and the army withdrawn tothe country. His military genius showed itself again and again inhis perfectly accurate judgment on distant campaigns. He seemed toapprehend all the conditions at a glance, and although his wisdommade him refuse to issue orders when he was not on the ground, thosegenerals who followed his suggestions, even when a thousand milesaway, were successful, and those who disregarded them were not. Lincoln, commanding at Charleston, was a brave and loyal man, but hehad neither the foresight nor the courage to withdraw to the country, and then, hovering on the lines of the enemy, to confine them to thetown. He yielded to the entreaties of the citizens and remained, onlyto surrender. Washington had retreated from New York, and after fiveyears of fighting the British still held it, and had gone no further. He had refused to risk an assault to redeem Philadelphia, at theexpense of much grumbling and cursing, and had then beaten the enemywhen they hastily retreated thence in the following spring. Hiscardinal doctrine was that the Revolution depended upon the existenceof the army, and not on the possession of any particular spot ofground, and his masterly adherence to this theory brought victory, slowly but surely. Lincoln's very natural inability to grasp it, andto withstand popular pressure, cost us for a time the southern Statesand a great deal of bloody fighting. 

In the midst of this anxiety about the south, and when he foresaw thecoming disasters, Washington was cheered and encouraged by the arrivalof Lafayette, whom he loved, and who brought good tidings of hiszealous work for the United States in Paris. An army and a fleet wereon their way to America, with a promise of more to follow. This wasgreat news indeed. It is interesting to note how Washington took it, for we see here with unusual clearness the readiness of grasp andquickness of thought which have been noted before, but which arenot commonly attributed to him. It has been the fashion to treatWashington as wise and prudent, but as distinctly slow, and when hewas obliged to concentrate public opinion, either military or civil, or when doubt overhung his course, he moved with great deliberation. When he required no concentration of opinion, and had made up hismind, he could strike with a terribly swift decision, as at Trentonor Monmouth. So when a new situation presented itself he seized withwonderful rapidity every phase and possibility opened by changedconditions. 

The moment he learned from Lafayette that the French succors wereactually on the way, he began to lay out plans in a manner whichshowed how he had taken in at the first glance every chance and everycontingency. He wrote that the decisive moment was at hand, and thatthe French succors would be fatal if not used successfully now. Congress must improve their methods of administration, and for thispurpose must appoint a small committee to coöperate with him. Thisstep he demanded, and it was taken at once. Fresh from his interviewwith Lafayette, he sent out orders to have inquiries made as toHalifax and its defenses. Possibly a sudden and telling blow mightbe struck there, and nothing should be overlooked. He also wrote toLafayette to urge upon the French commander an immediate assault onNew York the moment he landed. Yet despite his thought for New York, he even then began to see the opportunities which were destined todevelop into Yorktown. He had longed to go to the south before, andhad held back only because he felt that the main army and New Yorkwere still the key of the position, and could not be safely abandoned. Now, while planning the capture of New York, he asked in a letterwhether the enemy was not more exposed at the southward and thereforea better subject for a combined attack there. Clearness and precisionof plan as to the central point, joined to a perfect readiness tochange suddenly and strike hard and decisively in a totally differentquarter, are sure marks of the great commander. We can find them allthrough the correspondence, but here in May, 1780, they come out withpeculiar vividness. They are qualities arising from a wide foresight, and from a sure and quick perception. They are not the qualities of aslow or heavy mind. 

On June 1 came the news of the surrender of Charleston and the loss ofthe army, which was followed by the return of Clinton to New York. Thesouthern States lay open now to the enemy, and it was a severe trialto Washington to be unable to go to their rescue; but with the samedogged adherence to his ruling idea, he concentrated his attentionon the Hudson with renewed vigilance on account of Clinton's return. Adversity and prosperity alike were unable to divert him from thecontrol of the great river and the mastery of the middle States untilhe saw conclusive victory elsewhere fairly within his grasp. In thesame unswerving way he pushed on the preparations for what he felt tobe the coming of the decisive campaign and the supreme moment of thewar. To all the governors went urgent letters, calling on the Statesto fill their lines in the continental army, and to have their militiain readiness. 

In the midst of these anxieties and preparations, the French arrivedat Newport, bringing a well-equipped army of some five thousand men, and a small fleet. They brought, too, something quite as important, in the way of genuine good-will and full intention to do all in theirpower for their allies. After a moment's hesitation, born of unluckymemories, the people of Rhode Island gave De Rochambeau a heartywelcome, and Washington sent him the most cordial greeting. With thegreeting went the polite but earnest request for immediate action, together with plans for attacking New York; and, at the same time, another urgent call went out to the States for men, money, andsupplies. The long-looked-for hour had arrived, a fine French army wasin Newport, a French fleet rode in the harbor, and instead of action, immediate and effective, the great event marked only the beginning ofa period of delays and disappointment, wearing heart and nerve almostbeyond endurance. 

First it appeared that the French ships could not get into New Yorkharbor. Then there was sickness in the French army. Then the Britishmenaced Newport, and rapid preparations had to be made to meet thatdanger. Then it came out that De Rochambeau was ordered to await thearrival of the second division of the army, with more ships; and afterdue waiting, it was discovered that the aforesaid second division, with their ships, were securely blockaded by the English fleet atBrest. On our side it was no better; indeed, it was rather worse. There was lack of arms and powder. The drafts were made withdifficulty, and the new levies came in slowly. Supplies failedaltogether, and on every hand there was nothing but delay, and everfresh delay, and in the midst of it all Washington, wrestling withsloth and incoherence and inefficiency, trampled down one failure anddisappointment only to encounter another, equally important, equallypetty, and equally harassing. 

On August 20 he wrote to Congress a long and most able letter, whichset forth forcibly the evil and perilous condition of affairs. Afterreading that letter no man could say that there was not need of theutmost exertion, and for the expenditure of the last ounce of energy. In it Washington struck especially at the two delusions with whichthe people and their representatives were lulling themselves intosecurity, and by which they were led to relax their efforts. One wasthe belief that England was breaking down; the other, that the arrivalof the French was synonymous with the victorious close of the war. Washington demonstrated that England still commanded the sea, and thatas long as she did so there was a great advantage on her side. Shewas stronger, on the whole, this year than the year before, and herfinancial resources were still ample. There was no use in looking forvictory in the weakness of the enemy, and on the other hand, to relywholly on France was contemptible as well as foolish. After statingplainly that the army was on the verge of dissolution, he said: "To meit will appear miraculous if our affairs can maintain themselves muchlonger in their present train. If either the temper or the resourcesof the country will not admit of an alteration, we may expect soonto be reduced to the humiliating condition of seeing the cause ofAmerica, in America, upheld by foreign arms. The generosity of ourallies has a claim to all our confidence and all our gratitude, butit is neither for the honor of America, nor for the interest of thecommon cause, to leave the work entirely to them. "

It must have been bitter to Washington above all men, with his highdignity and keen sense of national honor, to write such words asthese, or make such an argument to any of his countrymen. But it was awork which the time demanded, and he did it without flinching. Havingthus laid bare the weak places, he proceeded to rehearse once more, with a weariness we can easily fancy, the old, old lesson as toorganization, a permanent army, and a better system of administration. This letter neither scolded, nor bewailed, nor desponded, but it toldthe truth with great force and vigor. Of course it had but slightresults, comparatively speaking; still it did something, and the finalsuccess of the Revolution is due to the series of strong truth-tellingletters, of which this is an example, as much as to any one thing doneby Washington. There was need of some one, not only to fight battlesand lead armies, but to drive Congress into some sort of harmony, spurthe careless and indifferent to action, arouse the States, and killvarious fatal delusions, and in Washington the robust teller ofunwelcome truths was found. 

Still, even the results actually obtained by such letters came butslowly, and Washington felt that he must strike at all hazards. Through Lafayette he tried to get De Rochambeau to agree to animmediate attack on New York. His army was on the very eve ofdissolution, and he began with reason to doubt his own power ofholding it together longer. The finances of the country were goingever faster to irremediable ruin, and it seemed impossible thatanything could postpone open and avowed bankruptcy. So, with his armycrumbling, mutinous, and half starved, he turned to his one unfailingresource of fighting, and tried to persuade De Rochambeau to joinhim. Under the circumstances, Washington was right to wish to risk abattle, and De Rochambeau, from his point of view, was equally so inrefusing to take the offensive, unless the second division arrived orDe Guichen came with his fleet, or the English force at New York wasreduced. 

In these debates and delays, mingled with an appeal to De Guichen inthe West Indies, the summer was fast wearing away, and, by way ofaddition, early in September came tidings of the battle of Camden, and the utter rout of Gates's army. Despite his own needs and trials, Washington's first idea was to stem the current of disaster at thesouth, and he ordered the fresh Maryland troops to turn back at onceand march to the Carolinas, but Gates fled so fast and far that itwas some time before anything was heard of him. As more news came ofCamden and its beaten general, Washington wrote to Rutledge that heshould ultimately come southward. Meantime, he could only strugglewith his own difficulties, and rack his brains for men and means torescue the south. It must have seemed to Washington, in those lovelySeptember days, as if fate could not have any worse trials in store, and that if he could only breast the troubles now surging about him, he might count on sure and speedy success. Yet the bitterest trial ofall was even then hanging over his head, and with a sort of savagesarcasm it came upon him in one of those rare moments when he had anhour of rest and sunshine. 

The story of Arnold's treason is easily told. Its romantic sidehas made it familiar to all Americans, and given it a factitiousimportance. Had it succeeded it would have opened opportunities ofdisaster to the American arms, although it would not have affectedthe final outcome of the Revolution. As it was it failed, and had noresult whatever. It has passed into history simply as a picturesqueepisode, charged with possibilities which attract the imagination, buthaving, in itself, neither meaning nor consequences beyond the twoconspirators. To us it is of interest, because it shows Washington inone of the sharpest and bitterest experiences of his life. Let us seehow he met it and dealt with it. 

From the day when the French landed, both De Rochambeau andWashington had been most anxious to meet. The French general had beenparticularly urgent, but it was difficult for Washington to get away. As he wrote on August 21: "We are about ten miles from the enemy. Ourpopular government imposes a necessity of great circumspection. Ifany misfortune should happen in my absence, it would be attended withevery inconvenience. I will, however, endeavor if possible, and assoon as possible, to meet you at some convenient rendezvous. " Inaccordance with this promise, a few weeks later, he left Greene incommand of the army, and, not without misgivings, started on September18 to meet De Rochambeau. On his way he had an interview with Arnold, who came to him to show a letter from the loyalist Colonel Robinson, and thus disarm suspicion as to his doings. On the 20th, the day whenAndré and Arnold met to arrange the terms of the sale, Washington waswith De Rochambeau at Hartford. News had arrived, meantime, that DeGuichen had sailed for Europe; the command of the sea was thereforelost, and the opportunity for action had gone by. There was no needfor further conference, and Washington accordingly set out on hisreturn at once, two or three days earlier than he had intended. 

He was accompanied by his own staff, and by Knox and Lafayette withtheir officers. With him, too, went the young Count Dumas, who hasleft a description of their journey, and of the popular enthusiasmdisplayed in the towns through which they passed. In one village, which they reached after nightfall, all the people turned out, thechildren bearing torches, and men and women hailed Washington asfather, and pressed about him to touch the hem of his garments. Turning to Dumas he said, "We may be beaten by the English; it isthe chance of war; but there is the army they will never conquer. "Political leaders grumbled, and military officers caballed, butthe popular feeling went out to Washington with a sure and utterconfidence. The people in that little village recognized the great andunselfish leader as they recognized Lincoln a century later, and fromthe masses of the people no one ever heard the cry that Washington wascold or unsympathetic. They loved him, and believed in him, and such amanifestation of their devotion touched him deeply. His spirits roseunder the spell of appreciation and affection, always so strong uponhuman nature, and he rode away from Fishkill the next morning atdaybreak with a light heart. 

The company was pleasant and lively, the morning was fair, and as theyapproached Arnold's headquarters at the Robinson house, Washingtonturned off to the redoubts by the river, telling the young men thatthey were all in love with Mrs. Arnold and would do well to gostraight on and breakfast with her. Hamilton and McHenry followed hisadvice, and while they were at breakfast a note was brought to Arnold. It was the letter of warning from André announcing his capture, whichColonel Jameson, who ought to have been cashiered for doing it, hadforwarded. Arnold at once left the table, and saying that he was goingto West Point, jumped into his boat and was rowed rapidly down theriver to the British man-of-war. Washington on his arrival was toldthat Arnold had gone to the fort, and so after a hasty breakfast hewent over there himself. On reaching West Point no salute broke thestillness, and no guard turned out to receive him. He was astonishedto learn that his arrival was unexpected, and that Arnold had not beenthere for two days. Still unsuspecting he inspected the works, andthen returned. 

Meantime, the messenger sent to Hartford with the papers taken onAndré reached the Robinson house and delivered them to Hamilton, together with a letter of confession from André himself. Hamilton readthem, and hurrying out met Washington just coming up from the river. He took his chief aside, said a few words to him in a low voice, andthey went into the house together. When they came out, Washingtonlooked as calm as ever, and calling to Lafayette and Knox gave themthe papers, saying simply, "Whom can we trust now?" He dispatchedHamilton at once to try to intercept Arnold at Verplanck's Point, butit was too late; the boat had passed, and Arnold was safe on board theVulture. This done, Washington bade his staff sit down with him atdinner, as the general was absent, and Mrs. Arnold was ill in herroom. Dinner over, he immediately set about guarding the post, whichhad been so near betrayal. To Colonel Wade at West Point he wrote:"Arnold has gone to the enemy; you are in command, be vigilant. " ToJameson he sent word to guard André closely. To the colonels andcommanders of various outlying regiments he sent orders to bring uptheir troops. Everything was done that should have been done, quickly, quietly, and without comment. The most sudden and appalling treacheryhad failed to shake his nerve, or confuse his mind. 

Yet the strong and silent man was wrung to the quick, and wheneverything possible had been done, and he had retired to his room, theguard outside the door heard him marching back and forth through allthe weary night. The one thing he least expected, because he leastunderstood it, had come to pass. He had been a good and true friend tothe villain who had fled, for Arnold's reckless bravery and dare-devilfighting had appealed to the strongest passion of his nature, and hehad stood by him always. He had grieved over the refusal of Congressto promote him in due order and had interceded with ultimate successin his behalf. He had sympathized with him in his recent troublesin Philadelphia, and had administered the reprimand awarded by thecourt-martial so that rebuke seemed turned to praise. He had soughtto give him every opportunity that a soldier could desire, and hadfinally conferred upon him the command of West Point. He had admiredhis courage and palliated his misconduct, and now the scoundrel hadturned on him and fled. Mingled with the bitterness of these memoriesof betrayed confidence was the torturing ignorance of how far thisbase treachery had extended. For all he knew there might be a brood oftraitors about him in the very citadel of America. We can never knowWashington's thoughts at that time, for he was ever silent, but as welisten in imagination to the sound of the even footfalls which theguard heard all through that September night, we can dimly guess thefeelings of the strong and passionate nature, wounded and distressedalmost beyond endurance. 

There is but little more to tell. The conspiracy stopped with Arnold. He had no accomplices, and meant to deliver the post and pocket thebooty alone. The British tried to spread the idea that other officershad been corrupted, but the attempt failed, and Washington's promptmeasures of defense checked any movement against the forts. Everyeffort was made by Clinton to save André, but in vain. He was triedby a court composed of the highest officers in the American service, among whom was Lafayette. On his own statement, but one decision waspossible. He was condemned as a spy, and as a spy he was sentenced tobe hanged. He made a manly appeal against the manner of his death, andbegged to be shot. Washington declined to interfere, and André went tothe gallows. 

The British, at the time, and some of their writers afterwards, attacked Washington for insisting on this mode of execution, but therenever was an instance in his career when he was more entirely right. André was a spy and briber, who sought to ruin the American causeby means of the treachery of an American general. It was a dark anddangerous game, and he knew that he staked his life on the result. Hefailed, and paid the penalty. Washington could not permit, he wouldhave been grossly and feebly culpable if he had permitted, such anattempt to pass without extreme punishment. He was generous andmagnanimous, but he was not a sentimentalist, and he punished thismiserable treason, so far as he could reach it, as it deserved. It istrue that André was a man of talent, well-bred and courageous, and ofengaging manners. He deserved all the sympathy and sorrow which heexcited at the time, but nothing more. He was not only technically aspy, but he had sought his ends by bribery, he had prostituted a flagof truce, and he was to be richly paid for his work. It was all hireand salary. No doubt André was patriotic and loyal. Many spies havebeen the same, and have engaged in their dangerous exploits fromthe highest motives. Nathan Hale, whom the British hanged withoutcompunction, was as well-born and well-bred as André, and as patrioticas man could be, and moreover he was a spy and nothing more. Andréwas a trafficker in bribes and treachery, and however we may pity hisfate, his name has no proper place in the great temple at Westminster, where all English-speaking people bow with reverence, and only a mostperverted sentimentality could conceive that it was fitting to erect amonument to his memory in this country. 

Washington sent André to the gallows because it was his duty to do so, but he pitied him none the less, and whatever he may have thought ofthe means André employed to effect his end, he made no comment uponhim, except to say that "he met his fate with that fortitude which wasto be expected from an accomplished man and gallant officer. " As toArnold, he was almost equally silent. When obliged to refer to him hedid so in the plainest and simplest way, and only in a familiar letterto Laurens do we get a glimpse of his feelings. He wrote: "I ammistaken if at this time Arnold is undergoing the torment of a mentalhell. He wants feeling. From some traits of his character which havelately come to my knowledge, he seems to have been so hackneyed invillainy, and so lost to all sense of honor and shame, that, while hisfaculties will enable him to continue his sordid pursuits, there willbe no time for remorse. " With this single expression of measurelesscontempt, Washington let Arnold drop from his life. The first shockhad touched him to the quick, although it could not shake his steadymind. Reflection revealed to him the extraordinary baseness ofArnold's real character, and he cast the thought of him out forever, content to leave the traitor to the tender mercies of history. Thecalmness and dignity, the firmness and deep feeling which Washingtonexhibited, are of far more interest than the abortive treason, andhave as real a value now as they had then, when suspicion for a momentran riot, and men wondered "whom they could trust. "

The treason of Arnold swept like a black cloud across the sky, broke, and left everything as before. That such a base peril should haveexisted was alarming and hateful. That it should have been explodedharmlessly made all men give a deep sigh of relief. But neither thetreason nor its discovery altered the current of events one jot. Thesummer had come and gone. The French had arrived, and no blow hadbeen struck. There was nothing to show for the campaign butinaction, disappointment, and the loss of the Carolinas. With thecommander-in-chief, through it all, were ever present two greatquestions, getting more portentous and more difficult of solution witheach succeeding day. How he was to keep his army in existence was one, and how he was to hold the government together was the other. Hehad thirteen tired States, a general government almost impotent, abankrupt treasury, and a broken credit. The American Revolution hadcome down to the question of whether the brain, will, and nerve of oneman could keep the machine going long enough to find fit opportunityfor a final and decisive stroke. Washington had confidence in thepeople of the country and in himself, but the difficulties in the waywere huge, and the means of surmounting them slight. There is hereand there a passionate undertone in the letters of this period, whichshows us the moments when the waves of trouble and disaster seemed tosweep over him. But the feeling passed, or was trampled underfoot, for there was no break in the steady fight against untowardcircumstances, or in the grim refusal to accept defeat. 

It is almost impossible now to conceive the actual condition at thattime of every matter of detail which makes military and politicalexistence possible. No general phrases can do justice to the situationof the army; and the petty miseries and privations, which made lifeunendurable, went on from day to day in ever varying forms. WhileWashington was hearing the first ill news from the south andstruggling with the problem on that side, and at the same time wasplanning with Lafayette how to take advantage of the French succors, the means of subsisting his army were wholly giving out. The menactually had no food. For days, as Washington wrote, there was no meatat all in camp. Goaded by hunger, a Connecticut regiment mutinied. They were brought back to duty, but held out steadily for their pay, which they had not received for five months. Indeed, the whole armywas more or less mutinous, and it was only by the utmost tact thatWashington kept them from wholesale desertion. After the summer hadpassed and the chance for a decisive campaign had gone with it, theexcitement of expected action ceased to sustain the men, and theunclothed, unpaid, unfed soldiers began again to get restive. We canimagine what the condition of the rank and file must have been whenwe find that Washington himself could not procure an express fromthe quartermaster-general, and was obliged to send a letter to theMinister of France by the unsafe and slow medium of the post. He wasexpected to carry on a war against a rich and powerful enemy, and hecould not even pay a courier to carry his dispatches. 

With the commander-in-chief thus straitened, the sufferings of themen grew to be intolerable, and the spirit of revolt which had beenchecked through the summer began again to appear. At last, in January, 1781, it burst all the bounds. The Pennsylvania line mutinied andthreatened Congress. Attempts on the part of the English to seducethem failed, but they remained in a state of open rebellion. Theofficers were powerless, and it looked as if the disaffection wouldspread, and the whole army go to pieces in the very face of the enemy. Washington held firm, and intended in his unshaken way to bring themback to their duty without yielding in a dangerous fashion. But thegovernment of Pennsylvania, at last thoroughly frightened, rushed intothe field, and patched up a compromise which contained most perilousconcessions. The natural consequence was a fresh mutiny in the NewJersey line, and this time Washington determined that he would not beforestalled. He sent forward at once some regiments of loyal troops, suppressed the mutiny suddenly and with a strong hand, and hangedtwo of the ringleaders. The difficulty was conquered, and disciplinerestored. 

To take this course required great boldness, for these mutinies wereof no ordinary character. In the first place, it was impossible totell whether any troops would do their duty against their fellows, andfailure would have been fatal. In the second place, the grievancesof the soldiers were very great, and their complaints were entirelyrighteous. Washington felt the profoundest sympathy with his men, andit was no easy matter to maintain order with soldiers tried almostbeyond endurance, against their comrades whose claims were just. Twothings saved the army. One was Washington's great influence with themen and their utter belief in him. The other was the quality ofthe men themselves. Lafayette said they were the most patient andpatriotic soldiers the world had seen, and it is easy to believe him. The wonder is, not that they mutinied when they did, but that thewhole army had not mutinied and abandoned the struggle years before. The misfortunes and mistakes of the Revolution, to whomever due, werein no respect to be charged to the army, and the conduct of the troopsthrough all the dreary months of starvation and cold and poverty isa proof of the intelligent patriotism and patient courage of theAmerican soldier which can never be gainsaid. To fight successfulbattles is the test of a good general, but to hold together asuffering army through years of unexampled privations, to meet endlessfailure of details with unending expedients, and then to fight battlesand plan campaigns, shows a leader who was far more than a goodgeneral. Such multiplied trials and difficulties are overcome only bya great soldier who with small means achieves large results, and by agreat man who by force of will and character can establish with allwho follow him a power which no miseries can conquer, and no sufferingdiminish. 

The height reached by the troubles in the army and their menacingcharacter had, however, a good as well as a bad side. They penetratedthe indifference and carelessness of both Congress and the States. Gentlemen in the confederate and local administrations andlegislatures woke up to a realizing sense that the dissolution of thearmy meant a general wreck, in which their own necks would be in veryconsiderable danger; and they also had an uneasy feeling that starvingand mutinous soldiers were very uncertain in taking revenge. The condition of the army gave a sudden and piercing reality toWashington's indignant words to Mathews on October 4: "At a time whenpublic harmony is so essential, when we should aid and assist eachother with all our abilities, when our hearts should be open toinformation and our hands ready to administer relief, to finddistrusts and jealousies taking possession of the mind and a partyspirit prevailing affords a most melancholy reflection, and forebodesno good. " The hoarse murmur of impending mutiny emphasized stronglythe words written on the same day to Duane: "The history of the war isa history of false hopes and temporary expedients. Would to God theywere to end here. "

The events in the south, too, had a sobering effect. The congressionalgeneral Gates had not proved a success. His defeat at Camden hadbeen terribly complete, and his flight had been too rapid to inspireconfidence in his capacity for recuperation. The members of Congresswere thus led to believe that as managers of military matters theyleft much to be desired; and when Washington, on October 11, addressedto them one of his long and admirable letters on reorganization, itwas received in a very chastened spirit. They had listened to manysuch letters before, and had benefited by them always a little, but danger and defeat gave this one peculiar point. They thereforeaccepted the situation, and adopted all the suggestions of thecommander-in-chief. They also in the same reasonable frame of minddetermined that Washington should select the next general for thesouthern army. A good deal could have been saved had this decisionbeen reached before; but even now it was not too late. October 14, Washington appointed Greene to this post of difficulty and danger, andGreene's assumption of the command marks the turning-point in thetide of disaster, and the beginning of the ultimate expulsion of theBritish from the only portion of the colonies where they had made atolerable campaign. 

The uses of adversity, moreover, did not stop here. They extended tothe States, which began to grow more vigorous in action, and to showsigns of appreciating the gravity of the situation and the dutieswhich rested upon them. This change and improvement both in Congressand the States came none too soon. Indeed, as it was, the results oftheir renewed efforts were too slow to be felt at once by the army, and mutinies broke out even after the new spirit had shown itself. Washington also sent Knox to travel from State to State, to see thevarious governors, and lay the situation of affairs before them; yeteven with such a text it was a difficult struggle to get the States tomake quick and strong exertions sufficient to prevent a partial mutinyfrom becoming a general revolt. The lesson, however, had had itseffect. For the moment, at least, the cause was saved. The worstdefects were temporarily remedied, and something was done towardsupplies and subsistence. The army would be able to exist throughanother winter, and face another summer. Then the next campaign mightbring the decisive moment; but still, who could tell? Years, insteadof months, might yet elapse before the end was reached, and then noman could say what the result would be. 

Washington saw plainly enough that the relief and improvement wereonly temporary, and that carelessness and indifference were likely toreturn, and be more case-hardened than ever. He was too strong andsane a man to waste time in fighting shadows or in nourishing himselfwith hopes. He dealt with the present as he found it, and fought downdifficulties as they sprang up in his path. But he was also a man ofextraordinary prescience, with a foresight as penetrating as it wasjudicious. It was, perhaps, his most remarkable gift, and whilehe controlled the present he studied the future. Outside of theoperations of armies, and the plans of campaign, he saw, as thewar progressed, that the really fatal perils were involved in thepolitical system. At the beginning of the Revolution there was noorganization outside the local state governments. Congress voted andresolved in favor of anything that seemed proper, and the Statesresponded to their appeal. In the first flush of revolution, and thefirst excitement of freedom, this was all very well. But as theearly passion cooled, and a long and stubborn struggle, replete withsufferings and defeat, developed itself, the want of system began toappear. 

One of the earliest tasks of Congress was the formation of articlesfor a general government, but state jealousies, and the delaysincident to the movements of thirteen sovereignties, prevented theiradoption until the war was nearly over. Washington, suffering from allthe complicated troubles of jarring States and general incoherence, longed for and urged the adoption of the act of confederation. He sawsooner than any one else, and with more painful intensity, the need ofbetter union and more energetic government. As the days and months ofdifficulties and trials went by, the suggestions on this question inhis letters grew more frequent and more urgent, and they showed theinsight of the statesman and practical man of affairs. How much hehoped from the final acceptance of the act of confederation it is noteasy to say, but he hoped for some improvement certainly. When at lastit went into force, he saw almost at once that it would not do, and inthe spring of 1780 he knew it to be a miserable failure. The systemwhich had been established was really no better than that which hadpreceded it. With alarm and disgust Washington found himself flungback on what he called "the pernicious state system, " and with worseprospects than ever. 

Up to the time of the Revolution he had never given attention to thephilosophy or science of government, but when it fell to his lot tofight the war for independence he perceived almost immediately theneed of a strong central government, and his suggestions, scatteredbroadcast among his correspondents, manifested a knowledge of theconditions of the political problem possessed by no one else at thatperiod. When he was satisfied of the failure of the confederation, hisefforts to improve the existing administration multiplied, and he soonhad the assistance of his aide-de-camp, Alexander Hamilton, who thenwrote, although little more than a boy, his remarkable letters ongovernment and finance, which were the first full expositions of thepolitical necessities from which sprang the Constitution of the UnitedStates. Washington was vigorous in action and methodical in business, while the system of thirteen sovereignties was discordant, disorderly, and feeble in execution. He knew that the vices inherent in theconfederation were ineradicable and fatal, and he also knew that itwas useless to expect any comprehensive reforms until the war wasover. The problem before him was whether the existing machine could bemade to work until the British were finally driven from the country. The winter of 1780-81 was marked, therefore, on his part, by an urgentstriving for union, and by unceasing efforts to mend and improve therickety system of the confederation. It was with this view that hesecured the dispatch of Laurens, whom he carefully instructed, to getmoney in Paris; for he was satisfied that it was only possible to tideover the financial difficulties by foreign loans from those interestedin our success. In the same spirit he worked to bring aboutthe establishment of executive departments, which was finallyaccomplished, after delays that sorely tried his patience. These twocases were but the most important among many of similar character, forhe was always at work on these perplexing questions. 

It is an astonishing proof of the strength and power of his mind thathe was able to solve the daily questions of army existence, to dealwith the allies, to plan attacks on New York, to watch and scheme forthe southern department, to cope with Arnold's treason, with mutiny, and with administrative imbecility, and at the very same time considerthe gravest governmental problems, and send forth wise suggestions, which met the exigencies of the moment, and laid the foundation ofmuch that afterwards appeared in the Constitution of the UnitedStates. He was not a speculator on government, and after his fashionhe was engaged in dealing with the questions of the day and hour. Yetthe ideas that he put forth in this time of confusion and conflict andexpedients were so vitally sound and wise that they deserve the mostcareful study in relation to after events. The political trialsand difficulties of this period were the stern teachers from whomWashington acquired the knowledge and experience which made him theprincipal agent in bringing about the formation and adoption of theConstitution of the United States. We shall have occasion to examinethese opinions and views more closely when they were afterwardsbrought into actual play. At this point it is only necessary to tracethe history of the methods by which he solved the problem of theRevolution before the political system of the confederation becameabsolutely useless. 

CHAPTER X

YORKTOWN

The failure to accomplish anything in the north caused Washington, as the year drew to a close, to turn his thoughts once more toward acombined movement at the south. In pursuance of this idea, he deviseda scheme of uniting with the Spaniards in the seizure of Florida, andof advancing thence through Georgia to assail the English in the rear. De Rochambeau did not approve the plan, and it was abandoned; but theidea of a southern movement was still kept steadily in sight. Thegoverning thought now was, not to protect this place or that, but tocast aside everything else in order to strike one great blow whichwould finish the war. Where he could do this, time alone would show, but if one follows the correspondence closely, it is apparent thatWashington's military instinct turned more and more toward the south. 

In that department affairs changed their aspect rapidly. January 17, Morgan won his brilliant victory at the Cowpens, withdrew in goodorder with his prisoners, and united his army with that of Greene. Cornwallis was terribly disappointed by this unexpected reverse, buthe determined to push on, defeat the combined American army, and thenjoin the British forces on the Chesapeake. Greene was too weak to riska battle, and made a masterly retreat of two hundred miles beforeCornwallis, escaping across the Dan only twelve hours ahead of theenemy. The moment the British moved away, Greene recrossed the riverand hung upon their rear. For a month he kept in their neighborhood, checking the rising of the Tories, and declining battle. At last hereceived reinforcements, felt strong enough to stand his ground, andon March 15 the battle of Guilford Court House was fought. It was asharp and bloody fight; the British had the advantage, and Greeneabandoned the field, bringing off his army in good order. Cornwallis, on his part, had suffered so heavily, however, that his victory turnedto ashes. On the 18th he was in full retreat, with Greene in hotchase, and it was not until the 28th that he succeeded in getting overthe Deep River and escaping to Wilmington. Thence he determined topush on and transfer the seat of war to the Chesapeake. Greene, withthe boldness and quickness which showed him to be a soldier of a highorder, now dropped the pursuit and turned back to fight the British indetachments and free the southern States. There is no need to followhim in the brilliant operations which ensued, and by which he achievedthis result. It is sufficient to say here that he had altered thewhole aspect of the war, forced Cornwallis into Virginia within reachof Washington, and begun the work of redeeming the Carolinas. 

The troops which Cornwallis intended to join had been sent indetachments to Virginia during the winter and spring. The first bodyhad arrived early in January under the command of Arnold, and ageneral marauding and ravaging took place. A little later GeneralPhillips arrived with reinforcements and took command. On May 13, General Phillips died, and a week later Cornwallis appeared atPetersburg, assumed control, and sent Arnold back to New York. 

Meantime Washington, though relieved by Morgan's and Greene'sadmirable work, had a most trying and unhappy winter and spring. Hesent every man he could spare, and more than he ought to have spared, to Greene, and he stripped himself still further when the invasion ofVirginia began. But for the most part he was obliged, from lack of anynaval strength, to stand helplessly by and see more and more Britishtroops sent to the south, and witness the ravaging of his nativeState, without any ability to prevent it. To these grave trials wasadded a small one, which stung him to the quick. The British came upthe Potomac, and Lund Washington, in order to preserve Mount Vernon, gave them refreshments, and treated them in a conciliatory manner. Hemeant well but acted ill, and Washington wrote:--

"It would have been a less painful circumstance to me to have heardthat, in consequence of your non-compliance with their request, theyhad burnt my house and laid the plantation in ruins. You ought to haveconsidered yourself as my representative, and should have reflectedon the bad example of communicating with the enemy, and making avoluntary offer of refreshments to them, with a view to prevent aconflagration. "

What a clear glimpse this little episode gives of the earnestness ofthe man who wrote these lines. He could not bear the thought that anyfavor should be shown him on any pretense. He was ready to take hisshare of the marauding and pillaging with the rest, but he was deeplyindignant at the idea that any one representing him should even appearto ask a favor of the British. 

Altogether, the spring of 1781 was very trying, for there was nothingso galling to Washington as to be unable to fight. He wanted to get tothe south, but he was bound hand and foot by lack of force. Yet theobstacles did not daunt or depress him. He wrote in June that he feltsure of bringing the war to a happy conclusion, and in the division ofthe British forces he saw his opportunity taking shape. Greene hadthe southern forces well in hand. Cornwallis was equally removed fromClinton on the north and Rawdon on the south, and had come withinreach; so that if he could but have naval strength he could fall uponCornwallis with superior force and crush him. In naval matters fortunethus far had dealt hardly with him, yet he could not but feel thata French fleet of sufficient force must soon come. He grasped thesituation with a master-hand, and began to prepare the way. Still hekept his counsel strictly to himself, and set to work to threaten, andif possible to attack, New York, not with much hope of succeedingin any such attempt, but with a view of frightening Clinton and ofinducing him either to withdraw troops from Virginia, or at least towithhold reinforcements. As he began his Virginian campaign in thisdistant and remote fashion at the mouth of the Hudson, he was cheeredby news that De Grasse, the French admiral, had sent recruits toNewport, and intended to come himself to the American coast. He atonce wrote De Grasse not to determine absolutely to come to NewYork, hinting that it might prove more advisable to operate to thesouthward. It required great tact to keep the French fleet where heneeded it, and yet not reveal his intentions, and nothing showedWashington's foresight more plainly than the manner in which he madethe moves in this campaign, when miles of space and weeks of timeseparated him from the final object of his plans. To trace thismastery of details, and the skill with which every point wasremembered and covered, would require a long and minute narrative. They can only be indicated here sufficiently to show how exactly eachmovement fitted in its place, and how all together brought the greatresult. 

Fortified by the good news from De Grasse, Washington had an interviewwith De Rochambeau, and effected a junction with the French army. Thusstrengthened, he opened his campaign against Cornwallis by beginning amovement against Clinton. The troops were massed above the city, andan effort was made to surprise the upper posts and destroy Delancey'spartisan corps. The attempt, although well planned, failed of itsimmediate purpose, giving Washington opportunity only for an effectivereconnoissance of the enemy's positions. But the move was perfectlysuccessful in its real and indirect object. Clinton was alarmed. Hebegan to write to Cornwallis that troops should be returned to NewYork, and he gave up absolutely the idea of sending more men toVirginia. Having thus convinced Clinton that New York was menaced, Washington then set to work to familiarize skillfully the minds of hisallies and of Congress with the idea of a southern campaign. With thisend in view, he wrote on August 2 that, if more troops arrived fromVirginia, New York would be impracticable, and that the next pointwas the south. The only contingency, as he set forth, was theall-important one of obtaining naval superiority. August 15 thisessential condition gave promise of fulfillment, for on that daydefinite news arrived that De Grasse with his fleet was on his way tothe Chesapeake. Without a moment's hesitation, Washington began tomove, and at the same time he sent an urgent letter to the New Englandgovernors, demanding troops with an earnestness which he had neversurpassed. 

In Virginia, meanwhile, during these long midsummer days, whileWashington was waiting and planning, Cornwallis had been going up anddown, harrying, burning, and plundering. His cavalry had scattered thelegislature, and driven Governor Jefferson in headlong flight over thehills, while property to the value of more than three millions hadbeen destroyed. Lafayette, sent by Washington to maintain the Americancause, had been too weak to act decisively, but he had been true tohis general's teaching, and, refusing battle, had hung upon the flanksof the British and harassed and checked them. Joined by Wayne, he hadfought an unsuccessful engagement at Green Springs, but brought offhis army, and with steady pertinacity followed the enemy to the coast, gathering strength as he moved. Now, when all was at last ready, Washington began to draw his net about Cornwallis, whom he had beenkeenly watching during the victorious marauding of the summer. On thenews of the coming of the French fleet, he wrote to Lafayette to beprepared to join him when he reached Virginia, to retain Wayne, whointended to join Greene, and to stop Cornwallis at all hazards, if heattempted to go southward. 

Cornwallis, however, had no intention of moving. He had seen the perilof his position, and had wished to withdraw to Charleston; but theministry, highly pleased with his performances, wished him to remainon the Chesapeake, and decisive orders came to him to take a permanentpost in that region. Clinton, moreover, was jealous of Cornwallis, and, impressed and deceived by Washington's movements, he not onlysent no reinforcements, but detained three thousand Hessians, who hadlately arrived. Cornwallis, therefore, had no choice, and with muchwriting for aid, and some protesting, he obeyed his orders, plantedhimself at Yorktown and Gloucester, and proceeded to fortify, whileLafayette kept close watch upon him. Cornwallis was a good soldier anda clever man, suffering, as Burgoyne did, from a stupid ministry anda dull and jealous commander-in-chief. Thus hampered and burdened, he was ready to fall a victim to the operations of a really greatgeneral, whom his official superiors in England undervalued anddespised. 

August 17, as soon as he had set his own machinery in motion, Washington wrote to De Grasse to meet him in the Chesapeake. He wasworking now more anxiously and earnestly than at any time in theRevolution, not merely because he felt that success depended on theblow, but because he descried a new and alarming danger. He hadperceived it in June, and the idea pursued him until all was over, andkept recurring in his letters during this strained and eager summer. To Washington's eyes, watching campaigns and government at home andthe politics of Europe abroad, the signs of exhaustion, of mediation, and of coming peace across the Atlantic were plainly visible. If peaceshould come as things then were, America would get independence, andbe shorn of many of her most valuable possessions. The sprawlingBritish campaign of maraud and plunder, so bad in a military point ofview, and about to prove fatal to Cornwallis, would, in case of suddencessation of hostilities, be capable of the worst construction. Time, therefore, had become of the last importance. The decisive blow mustbe given at once, and before the slow political movements could cometo a head. On July 14, Washington had his plan mapped out. He wrote inhis diary:--

"Matters having now come to a crisis, and a decided plan to bedetermined on, I was obliged--from the shortness of Count De Grasse'spromised stay on this coast, the apparent disinclination of theirnaval officers to force the harbor of New York, and the feeblecompliance of the States with my requisitions for men hitherto, andthe little prospect of greater exertions in future--to give up allideas of attacking New York, and instead thereof to remove the Frenchtroops and a detachment from the American army to the Head of Elk, tobe transported to Virginia for the purpose of coöperating with theforce from the West Indies against the troops in that State. "

Like most of Washington's plans, this one was clear-cut and direct, and looks now simple enough, but at the moment it was hedged withalmost inconceivable difficulties at every step. The ever-present andever-growing obstacles at home were there as usual. Appeals to Morrisfor money were met by the most discouraging responses, and the Statesseemed more lethargic than ever. Neither men nor supplies could beobtained; neither transportation nor provision for the march could bepromised. Then, too, in addition to all this, came a wholly new set ofstumbling-blocks arising among the allies. Everything hinged on thenaval force. Washington needed it for a short time only; but for thatcrucial moment he must have not only superiority but supremacy at sea. Every French ship that could be reached must be in the Chesapeake, andWashington had had too many French fleets slip away from him at thelast moment and bring everything to naught to take any chances in thisdirection. To bring about his naval supremacy required the utmosttact and good management, and that he succeeded is one of thechief triumphs of the campaign. In fact, at the very outset he wasthreatened in this quarter with a serious defection. De Barras, withthe squadron of the American station, was at Boston, and it wasessential that he should be united with De Grasse at Yorktown. But DeBarras was nettled by the favoritism which had made De Grasse, hisjunior in service, his superior in command. He determined therefore totake advantage of his orders and sail away to the north to Nova Scotiaand Newfoundland, and leave De Grasse to fight it out alone. It is ahard thing to beat an opposing army, but it is equally hard to bringhuman jealousies and ambitions into the narrow path of self-sacrificeand subordination. Alarmed beyond measure at the suggested departureof the Boston squadron, Washington wrote a letter, which De Rochambeausigned with him, urging De Barras to turn his fleet toward theChesapeake. It was a skillfully drawn missive, an adroit mingling ofappeals to honor and sympathy and of vigorous demands to perform anobvious duty. The letter did its work, the diplomacy of Washington wassuccessful, and De Barras suppressed his feelings of disappointment, and agreed to go to the Chesapeake and serve under De Grasse. 

This point made, Washington pushed on his preparations, or ratherpushed on despite his lack of preparations, and on August 17, as hasbeen said, wrote to De Grasse to meet him in the Chesapeake. He leftthe larger part of his own troops with Heath, to whom in carefullydrawn instructions he intrusted the grave duty of guarding the Hudsonand watching the British in New York. This done, he gathered hisforces together, and on August 21 the army started on its march to thesouth. On the 23d and 24th it crossed the Hudson, without annoyancefrom the British of any kind. Washington had threatened New York soeffectively, and manoeuvred so successfully, that Clinton could not beshaken in his belief that the real object of the Americans was his ownarmy; and it was not until September 6 that he fully realized that hisenemy was going to the south, and that Cornwallis was in danger. Heeven then hesitated and delayed, but finally dispatched Admiral Graveswith the fleet to the Chesapeake. The Admiral came upon the Frenchearly on September 5, the very day that Washington was rejoicing inthe news that De Grasse had arrived in the Chesapeake and had landedSt. Simon and three thousand men to support Lafayette. As soon as theEnglish fleet appeared, the French, although many of their men wereon shore, sailed out and gave battle. An indecisive action ensued, inwhich the British suffered so much that five days later they burnedone of their frigates and withdrew to New York. De Grasse returned tohis anchorage, to find that De Barras had come in from Newport witheight ships and ten transports carrying ordnance. 

While everything was thus moving well toward the consummation of thecampaign, Washington, in the midst of his delicate and important workof breaking camp and beginning his rapid march to the south, washarassed by the ever-recurring difficulties of the feeble and bankruptgovernment of the confederation. He wrote again and again to Morrisfor money, and finally got some. His demands for men and suppliesremained almost unheeded, but somehow he got provisions enough tostart. He foresaw the most pressing need, and sent messages in alldirections for shipping to transport his army down the Chesapeake. Noone responded, but still he gathered the transports; at first a few, then more, and finally, after many delays, enough to move his army toYorktown. The spectacle of such a struggle, so heroically made, onewould think, might have inspired every soul on the continent withenthusiasm; but at this very moment, while Washington was breakingcamp and marching southward, Congress was considering the reductionof the army!--which was as appropriate as it would have been for theEnglish Parliament to have reduced the navy on the eve of Trafalgar, or for Lincoln to have advised the restoration of the army to a peacefooting while Grant was fighting in the Wilderness. The fact was thatthe Continental Congress was weakened in ability and very tired inpoint of nerve and will-power. They saw that peace was coming, andnaturally thought that the sooner they could get it the better. Theyentirely failed to see, as Washington saw, that in a too sudden peacelurked the danger of the _uti possidetis_, and that the mere fact ofpeace by no means implied necessarily complete success. They did not, of course, effect their reductions, but they remained inert, and sofor the most part did the state governments, becoming drags uponthe wheels of war instead of helpers to the man who was driving theRevolution forward to its goal. Both state and confederate governmentsstill meant well, but they were worn out and relaxed. Yet over andthrough all these heavy masses of misapprehension and feebleness, Washington made his way. Here again all that can be said is thatsomehow or other the thing was done. We can take account of theresisting forces, but we cannot tell just how they were dealt with. We only know that one strong man trampled them down and got what hewanted done. 

Pushing on after the joyful news of the arrival of De Grasse had beenreceived, Washington left the army to go by water from the Head ofElk, and hurried to Mount Vernon, accompanied by De Rochambeau. Itwas six years since he had seen his home. He had left it a Virginiancolonel, full of forebodings for his country, with a vast and unknownproblem awaiting solution at his hands. He returned to it the firstsoldier of his day, after six years of battle and trial, of victoryand defeat, on the eve of the last and crowning triumph. As he pausedon the well-beloved spot, and gazed across the broad and beautifulriver at his feet, thoughts and remembrances must have come throngingto his mind which it is given to few men to know. He lingered theretwo days, and then pressing on again, was in Williamsburg on the 14th, and on the 17th went on board the Ville de Paris to congratulate DeGrasse on his victory, and to concert measures for the siege. 

The meeting was most agreeable. All had gone well, all promised well, and everything was smiling and harmonious. Yet they were on the eveof the greatest peril which occurred in the campaign. Washingtonhad managed to scrape together enough transports; but his almostunassisted labors had taken time, and delay had followed. Then thetransports were slow, and winds and tides were uncertain, and therewas further delay. The interval permitted De Grasse to hear that theBritish fleet had received reinforcements, and to become nervous inconsequence. He wanted to get out to sea; the season was advancing, and he was anxious to return to the West Indies; and above all hedid not wish to fight in the bay. He therefore proposed firmly andvigorously to leave two ships in the river, and stand out to sea withhis fleet. The Yorktown campaign began to look as if it had reachedits conclusion. Once again Washington wrote one of his masterlyletters of expostulation and remonstrance, and once more he prevailed, aided by the reasoning and appeals of Lafayette, who carried themessage. De Grasse consented to stay, and Washington, grateful beyondmeasure, wrote him that "a great mind knows how to make personalsacrifice to secure an important general good. " Under thecircumstances, and in view of the general truth of this complimentarysentiment, one cannot help rejoicing that De Grasse had "a greatmind. "

At all events he stayed, and thereafter everything went well. Thenorthern army landed at Williamsburg and marched for Yorktown on the28th. They reconnoitred the outlying works the next day, and preparedfor an immediate assault; but in the night Cornwallis abandoned allhis outside works and withdrew into the town. Washington thereuponadvanced at once, and prepared for the siege. On the night of the 5th, the trenches were opened only six hundred yards from the enemy's line, and in three days the first parallel was completed. On the 11th thesecond parallel was begun, and on the 14th the American batteriesplayed on the two advanced redoubts with such effect that the breacheswere pronounced practicable. Washington at once ordered an assault. The smaller redoubt was stormed by the Americans under Hamilton andtaken in ten minutes. The other, larger and more strongly garrisoned, was carried by the French with equal gallantry, after half an hour'sfighting. During the assault Washington stood in an embrasure of thegrand battery watching the advance of the men. He was always given toexposing himself recklessly when there was fighting to be done, butnot when he was only an observer. This night, however, he was muchexposed to the enemy's fire. One of his aides, anxious and disturbedfor his safety, told him that the place was perilous. "If you thinkso, " was the quiet answer, "you are at liberty to step back. " Themoment was too exciting, too fraught with meaning, to think of peril. The old fighting spirit of Braddock's field was unchained for the lasttime. He would have liked to head the American assault, sword in hand, and as he could not do that he stood as near his troops as he could, utterly regardless of the bullets whistling in the air about him. Whocan wonder at his intense excitement at that moment? Others saw abrilliant storming of two outworks, but to Washington the wholeRevolution, and all the labor and thought and conflict of six yearswere culminating in the smoke and din on those redoubts, while out ofthe dust and heat of the sharp quick fight success was coming. Hehad waited long, and worked hard, and his whole soul went out as hewatched the troops cross the abattis and scale the works. He couldhave no thought of danger then, and when all was over he turned toKnox and said, "The work is done, and well done. Bring me my horse. "

Washington was not mistaken. The work was indeed done. Tarleton earlyin the siege had dashed out against Lauzun on the other side of theriver and been repulsed. Cornwallis had been forced back steadily intothe town, and his redoubts, as soon as taken, were included in thesecond parallel. A sortie to retake the redoubts failed, and a wildattempt to transport the army across the river was stopped by a galeof wind. On the 17th Cornwallis was compelled to face much bloody anduseless slaughter, or to surrender. He chose the latter course, andafter opening negotiations and trying in vain to obtain delay, finallysigned the capitulation and gave up the town. The next day the troopsmarched out and laid down their arms. Over 7000 British and Hessiantroops surrendered. It was a crushing defeat. The victorious armyconsisted in round numbers of 5500 continentals, 3500 militia, and7000 French, and they were backed by the French fleet with entirecontrol of the sea. 

When Washington had once reached Yorktown with his fleet and army, thecampaign was really at an end, for he held Cornwallis in an iron gripfrom which there was no escape. The masterly part of the Yorktowncampaign lay in the manner in which it was brought about, in themanagement of so many elements, and in the rapidity of movement whichcarried an army without any proper supplies or means of transportationfrom New York to the mouth of Chesapeake Bay. The control of the seahad been the great advantage of the British from the beginning, andhad enabled them to achieve all that they ever gained. With these oddsagainst him, with no possibility of obtaining a fleet of his own, Washington saw that his only chance of bringing the war to a quick andsuccessful issue was by means of the French. It is difficult to manageallied troops. It is still more difficult to manage allied troops andan allied fleet. Washington did both with infinite address, and won. The chief factor of his success in this direction lay in his profoundpersonal influence on all men with whom he came in contact. Hiscourtesy and tact were perfect, but he made no concessions, andnever stooped. The proudest French noble who came here shrank fromdisagreement with the American general, and yet not one of them hadanything but admiration and respect to express when they wrote ofWashington in their memoirs, diaries, and letters. He impressed themone and all with a sense of power and greatness which could notbe disregarded. Many times he failed to get the French fleet incoöperation, but finally it came. Then he put forth all his influenceand all his address, and thus he got De Barras to the Chesapeake, andkept De Grasse at Yorktown. 

This was one side of the problem, the most essential becauseeverything hinged on the fleet, but by no means the most harassing. The doubt about the control of the sea made it impossible to worksteadily for a sufficient time toward any one end. It was necessary tohave a plan for every contingency, and be ready to adopt any one ofseveral plans at short notice. With a foresight and judgment thatnever failed, Washington planned an attack on New York, another onYorktown, and a third on Charleston. The division of the Britishforces gave him his opportunity of striking at one point with anoverwhelming force, but there was always the possibility of theirsuddenly reuniting. In the extreme south he felt reasonably sure thatGreene would hold Rawdon, but he was obliged to deceive and amuseClinton, and at the same time, with a ridiculously inferior force, to keep Cornwallis from marching to South Carolina. Partly by goodfortune, partly by skill, Cornwallis was kept in Virginia, while byadmirably managed feints and threats Clinton was held in New York ininactivity. When the decisive moment came, and it was evident that thecontrol of the sea was to be determined in the Chesapeake, Washington, overriding all sorts of obstacles, moved forward, despite a bankruptand inert government, with a rapidity and daring which have beenrarely equaled. It was a bold stroke to leave Clinton behind at themouth of the Hudson, and only the quickness with which it was done, and the careful deception which had been practiced, made it possible. Once at Yorktown, there was little more to do. The combination wasso perfect, and the judgment had been so sure, that Cornwallis wascrushed as helplessly as if he had been thrown before the car ofJuggernaut. There was really but little fighting, for there was noopportunity to fight. Washington held the British in a vice, and theutter helplessness of Cornwallis, the entire inability of such a goodand gallant soldier even to struggle, are the most convincing proofsof the military genius of his antagonist. 

CHAPTER XI

PEACE

Fortitude in misfortune is more common than composure in the hourof victory. The bitter medicine of defeat, however unpalatable, is usually extremely sobering, but the strong new wine of successgenerally sets the heads of poor humanity spinning, and leads often toworse results than folly. The capture of Cornwallis was enough to haveturned the strongest head, for the moment at least, but it had noapparent effect upon the man who had brought it to pass, and who, morethan any one else, knew what it meant. Unshaken and undismayed in theNew Jersey winter, and among the complicated miseries of Valley Forge, Washington turned from the spectacle of a powerful British army layingdown their arms as coolly as if he had merely fought a successfulskirmish, or repelled a dangerous raid. He had that rare gift, theattribute of the strongest minds, of leaving the past to take care ofitself. He never fretted over what could not be undone, nor dalliedamong pleasant memories while aught still remained to do. He wrote toCongress in words of quiet congratulation, through which pierced thedevout and solemn sense of the great deed accomplished, and then, while the salvos of artillery were still booming in his ears, and theshouts of victory were still rising about him, he set himself, afterhis fashion, to care for the future and provide for the immediatecompletion of his work. 

He wrote to De Grasse, urging him to join in an immediate movementagainst Charleston, such as he had already suggested, and he presentedin the strongest terms the opportunities now offered for the suddenand complete ending of the struggle. But the French admiral was by nomeans imbued with the tireless and determined spirit of Washington. Hehad had his fill even of victory, and was so eager to get back to theWest Indies, where he was to fall a victim to Rodney, that he wouldnot even transport troops to Wilmington. Thus deprived of the forcewhich alone made comprehensive and extended movements possible, Washington returned, as he had done so often before, to making thebest of cramped circumstances and straitened means. He sent all thetroops he could spare to Greene, to help him in wresting the southernStates from the enemy, the work to which he had in vain summoned DeGrasse. This done, he prepared to go north. On his way he was stoppedat Eltham by the illness and death of his wife's son, John Custis, ablow which he felt severely, and which saddened the great victory hehad just achieved. Still the business of the State could not wait onprivate grief. He left the house of mourning, and, pausing for aninstant only at Mount Vernon, hastened on to Philadelphia. At thevery moment of victory, and while honorable members were shaking eachother's hands and congratulating each other that the war was nowreally over, the commander-in-chief had fallen again to writing themletters in the old strain, and was once more urging them to keep upthe army, while he himself gave his personal attention to securing anaval force for the ensuing year, through the medium of Lafayette. Nothing was ever finished with Washington until it was really completethroughout, and he had as little time for rejoicing as he had fordespondency or despair, while a British force still remained in thecountry. He probably felt that this was as untoward a time as he hadever met in a pretty large experience of unsuitable occasions, foroffering sound advice, but he was not deterred thereby from doing it. This time, however, he was destined to an agreeable disappointment, for on his arrival at Philadelphia he found an excellent spiritprevailing in Congress. That body was acting cheerfully on his advice, it had filled the departments of the government, and set on foot suchmeasures as it could to keep up the army. So Washington remained forsome time at Philadelphia, helping and counseling Congress in itswork, and writing to the States vigorous letters, demanding pay andclothing for the soldiers, ever uppermost in his thoughts. 

But although Congress was compliant, Washington could not convincethe country of the justice of his views, and of the continued need ofenergetic exertion. The steady relaxation of tone, which the strain ofa long and trying war had produced, was accelerated by the brilliantvictory of Yorktown. Washington for his own part had but little trustin the sense or the knowledge of his enemy. He felt that Yorktown wasdecisive, but he also thought that Great Britain would still struggleon, and that her talk of peace was very probably a mere blind, toenable her to gain time, and, by taking advantage of our relaxed andfeeble condition, to strike again in hope of winning back all that hadbeen lost. He therefore continued his appeals in behalf of thearmy, and reiterated everywhere the necessity for fresh and amplepreparations. 

As late as May 4 he wrote sharply to the States for men and money, saying that the change of ministry was likely to be adverse topeace, and that we were being lulled into a false and fatal sense ofsecurity. A few days later, on receiving information from Sir GuyCarleton of the address of the Commons to the king for peace, Washington wrote to Congress: "For my own part, I view our situationas such that, instead of relaxing, we ought to improve the presentmoment as the most favorable to our wishes. The British nationappear to me to be staggered, and almost ready to sink beneath theaccumulating weight of debt and misfortune. If we follow the blow withvigor and energy, I think the game is our own. "

Again he wrote in July: "Sir Guy Carleton is using every art tosoothe and lull our people into a state of security. Admiral Digbyis capturing all our vessels, and suffocating as fast as possible inprison-ships all our seamen who will not enlist into the service ofhis Britannic Majesty; and Haldimand, with his savage allies, isscalping and burning on the frontiers. " Facts always were the objectof Washington's first regard, and while gentlemen on all sides weretalking of peace, war was going on, and he could not understand thesupineness which would permit our seamen to be suffocated, and ourborderers scalped, because some people thought the war ought to be andpractically was over. While the other side was fighting, he wished tobe fighting too. A month later he wrote to Greene: "From the formerinfatuation, duplicity, and perverse system of British policy, Iconfess I am induced to doubt everything, to suspect everything. " Hecould say heartily with the Trojan priest, "Quicquid id est timeoDanaos et dona ferentes. " Yet again, a month later still, when thenegotiations were really going forward in Paris, he wrote to McHenry:"If we are wise, let us prepare for the worst. There is nothing whichwill so soon produce a speedy and honorable peace as a state ofpreparation for war; and we must either do this, or lay our account topatch up an inglorious peace, after all the toil, blood, and treasurewe have spent. "

No man had done and given so much as Washington, and at the sametime no other man had his love of thoroughness, and his indomitablefighting temper. He found few sympathizers, his words fell upon deafears, and he was left to struggle on and maintain his ground as besthe might, without any substantial backing. As it turned out, Englandwas more severely wounded than he dared to hope, and her desire forpeace was real. But Washington's distrust and the active policy whichhe urged were, in the conditions of the moment, perfectly sound, both in a military and a political point of view. It made no realdifference, however, whether he was right or wrong in his opinion. He could not get what he wanted, and he was obliged to drag throughanother year, fettered in his military movements, and oppressed withanxiety for the future. He longed to drive the British from New York, and was forced to content himself, as so often before, with keepinghis army in existence. It was a trying time, and fruitful in nothingbut anxious forebodings. All the fighting was confined to skirmishesof outposts, and his days were consumed in vain efforts to obtain helpfrom the States, while he watched with painful eagerness the currentof events in Europe, down which the fortunes of his country werefeebly drifting. 

Among the petty incidents of the year there was one which, in itseffects, gained an international importance, which has left a deepstain upon the English arms, and which touched Washington deeply. Captain Huddy, an American officer, was captured in a skirmish andcarried to New York, where he was placed in confinement. Thence hewas taken on April 12 by a party of Tories in the British service, commanded by Captain Lippencott, and hanged in the broad light of dayon the heights near Middletown. Testimony and affidavits to thefact, which was never questioned, were duly gathered and laid beforeWashington. The deed was one of wanton barbarity, for which it wouldbe difficult to find a parallel in the annals of modern warfare. The authors of this brutal murder, to our shame be it said, were ofAmerican birth, but they were fighting for the crown and wore theBritish uniform. England, which for generations has deafened theworld with paeans of praise for her own love of fair play and forher generous humanity, stepped in here and threw the mantle of herprotection over these cowardly hangmen. It has not been uncommon forwild North American savages to deliver up criminals to the vengeanceof the law, but English ministers and officers condoned the murder ofHuddy, and sheltered his murderers. 

When the case was laid before Washington it stirred him to the deepestwrath. He submitted the facts to twenty-five of his general officers, who unanimously advised what he was himself determined upon, instantretaliation. He wrote at once to Sir Guy Carleton, and informed himthat unless the murderers were given up he should be compelled toretaliate. Carleton replied that a court-martial was ordered, and someattempt was made to recriminate; but Washington pressed on in the pathhe had marked out, and had an English officer selected by lot and heldin close confinement to await the action of the enemy. These sharpmeasures brought the British, as nothing else could have done, to somesense of the enormity of the crime that had been committed. Sir GuyCarleton wrote in remonstrance, and Washington replied: "Ever sincethe commencement of this unnatural war my conduct has borne invariabletestimony against those inhuman excesses, which, in too manyinstances, have marked its progress. With respect to a latetransaction, to which I presume your excellency alludes, I havealready expressed my resolution, a resolution formed on the mostmature deliberation, and from which I shall not recede. " Theaffair dragged along, purposely protracted by the British, and thecourt-martial on a technical point acquitted Lippencott. Sir GuyCarleton, however, who really was deeply indignant at the outrage, wrote, expressing his abhorrence, disavowed Lippencott, and promiseda further inquiry. This placed Washington in a very trying position, more especially as his humanity was touched by the situation of theunlucky hostage. The fatal lot had fallen upon a mere boy, CaptainAsgill, who was both amiable and popular, and Washington was besetwith appeals in his behalf, for Lady Asgill moved heaven and earth tosave her son. She interested the French court, and Vergennes made aspecial request that Asgill should be released. Even Washington's ownofficers, notably Hamilton, sought to influence him, and begged him torecede. In these difficult circumstances, which were enhanced by thefact that contrary to his orders to select an unconditional prisoner, the lot had fallen on a Yorktown prisoner protected by the termsof the capitulation, [1] he hesitated, and asked instructions fromCongress. He wrote to Duane in September: "While retaliation wasapparently necessary, however disagreeable in itself, I had norepugnance to the measure. But when the end proposed by it is answeredby a disavowal of the act, by a dissolution of the board of refugees, and by a promise (whether with or without meaning to comply with it, Ishall not determine) that further inquisition should be made into thematter, I thought it incumbent upon me, before I proceeded any fartherin the matter, to have the sense of Congress, who had most explicitlyapproved and impliedly indeed ordered retaliation to take place. Tothis hour I am held in darkness. "

[Footnote 1: MS, letter to Lincoln. ]

He did not long remain in doubt. The fact was that the public, as iscommonly the case, had forgotten the original crime and saw only themisery of the man who was to pay the just penalty, and who was, inthis instance, an innocent and vicarious sufferer. It was difficultto refuse Vergennes, and Congress, glad of the excuse and anxious tooblige their allies, ordered the release of Asgill. That Washington, touched by the unhappy condition of his prisoner, did not feelrelieved by the result, it would be absurd to suppose. But he was byno means satisfied, for the murderous wrong that had been done rankledin his breast. He wrote to Vergennes: "Captain Asgill has beenreleased, and is at perfect liberty to return to the arms of anaffectionate parent, whose pathetic address to your Excellency couldnot fail of interesting every feeling heart in her behalf. I have noright to assume any particular merit from the lenient manner in whichthis disagreeable affair has terminated. "

There is a perfect honesty about this which is very wholesome. He hadbeen freely charged with cruelty, and had regarded the accusation withindifference. Now, when it was easy for him to have taken the gloryof mercy by simply keeping silent, he took pains to avow that theleniency was not due to him. He was not satisfied, and no one shouldbelieve that he was, even if the admission seemed to justify thecharge of cruelty. If he erred at all it was in not executing someBritish officer at the very start, unless Lippencott had been given upwithin a limited time. As it was, after delay was once permitted, itis hard to see how he could have acted otherwise than he did, butWashington was not in the habit of receding from a fixed purpose, andbeing obliged to do so in this case troubled him, for he knew that hedid well to be angry. But the frankness of the avowal to Vergennes isa good example of his entire honesty and absolute moral fearlessness. 

The matter, however, which most filled his heart and mind during theseweary days of waiting and doubt was the condition and the future ofhis soldiers. To those persons who have suspected or suggested thatWashington was cold-blooded and unmindful of others, the letters hewrote in regard to the soldiers may be commended. The man whose heartwas wrung by the sufferings of the poor people on the Virginianfrontier, in the days of the old French war, never in fact changedhis nature. Fierce in fight, passionate and hot when his anger wasstirred, his love and sympathy were keen and strong toward his army. His heart went out to the brave men who had followed him, loved him, and never swerved in their loyalty to him and to their country. Washington's affection for his men, and their devotion to him, hadsaved the cause of American independence more often than strategy ordaring. Now, when the war was practically over, his influence withboth officers and soldiers was destined to be put to its severesttests. 

The people of the American colonies were self-governing in theextremest sense, that is, they were accustomed to very littlegovernment interference of any sort. They were also poor and entirelyunused to war. Suddenly they found themselves plunged into a bitterand protracted conflict with the most powerful of civilized nations. In the first flush of excitement, patriotic enthusiasm supplied manydefects; but as time wore on, and year after year passed, and thewhole social and political fabric was shaken, the moral tone of thepeople relaxed. In such a struggle, coming upon an unprepared peopleof the habits and in the circumstances of the colonists, thisrelaxation was inevitable. It was likewise inevitable that, as the warcontinued, there should be in both national and state governments, andin all directions, many shortcomings and many lamentable errors. Butfor the treatment accorded the army, no such excuse can be made, andno sufficient explanation can be offered. There was throughout thecolonies an inborn and a carefully cultivated dread of standing armiesand military power. But this very natural feeling was turned mostunreasonably against our own army, and carried in that direction tothe verge of insanity. This jealousy of military power indeed pursuedWashington from the beginning to the end of the Revolution. It croppedout as soon as he was appointed, and came up in one form or anotherwhenever he was obliged to take strong measures. Even at the very end, after he had borne the cause through to triumph, Congress was drivenalmost to frenzy because Vergennes proposed to commit the dispositionof a French subsidy to the commander-in-chief. 

If this feeling could show itself toward Washington, it is easy toimagine that it was not restrained toward his officers and men, andthe treatment of the soldiers by Congress and by the States was notonly ungrateful to the last degree, but was utterly unpardonable. Again and again the menace of immediate ruin and the stern demands ofWashington alone extorted the most grudging concessions, and saved thearmy from dissolution. The soldiers had every reason to think thatnothing but personal fear could obtain the barest consideration fromthe civil power. In this frame of mind, they saw the war which theyhad fought and won drawing to a close with no prospect of eitherprovision or reward for them, and every indication that they would bedisbanded when they were no longer needed, and left in many casesto beggary and want. In the inaction consequent upon the victory atYorktown, they had ample time to reflect upon these facts, and theirreflections were of such a nature that the situation soon becamedangerous. Washington, who had struggled in season and out of seasonfor justice to the soldiers, labored more zealously than ever duringall this period, aided vigorously by Hamilton, who was now inCongress. Still nothing was done, and in October, 1782, he wrote tothe Secretary of War in words warm with indignant feeling: "While Ipremise that no one I have seen or heard of appears opposed to theprinciple of reducing the army as circumstances may require, yet Icannot help fearing the result of the measure in contemplation, underpresent circumstances, when I see such a number of men, goaded by athousand stings of reflection on the past and of anticipation on thefuture, about to be turned into the world, soured by penury and whatthey call the ingratitude of the public, involved in debts, withoutone farthing of money to carry them home after having spent the flowerof their days, and many of them their patrimonies, in establishing thefreedom and independence of their country, and suffered everythingthat human nature is capable of enduring on this side of death. .. . Youmay rely upon it, the patriotism and long-suffering of this armyare almost exhausted, and that there never was so great a spirit ofdiscontent as at this instant. While in the field I think it may bekept from breaking into acts of outrage; but when we retire intowinter-quarters, unless the storm is previously dissipated, I cannotbe at ease respecting the consequences. It is high time for a peace. "

These were grave words, coming from such a man as Washington, but theypassed unheeded. Congress and the States went blandly along as ifeverything was all right, and as if the army had no grievances. Butthe soldiers thought differently. "Dissatisfactions rose to a greatand alarming height, and combinations among officers to resign atgiven periods in a body were beginning to take place. " The outlookwas so threatening that Washington, who had intended to go to MountVernon, remained in camp, and by management and tact thwarted thesecombinations and converted these dangerous movements into an addressto Congress from the officers, asking for half-pay, arrearages, andsome other equally proper concessions. Still Congress did not stir. Some indefinite resolutions were passed, but nothing was done as tothe commutation of half-pay into a fixed sum, and after such a displayof indifference the dissatisfaction increased rapidly, and the armybecame more and more restless. In March a call was issued for ameeting of officers, and an anonymous address, written withmuch skill, --the work, as afterwards appeared, of Major JohnArmstrong, --was published at the same time. The address was wellcalculated to inflame the passions of the troops; it advised a resortto force, and was scattered broadcast through the camp. The army wasnow in a ferment, and the situation was full of peril. A weak manwould have held his peace; a rash one would have tried to suppress themeeting. Washington did neither, but quietly took control of the wholemovement himself. In general orders he censured the call and theaddress as irregular, and then appointed a time and place for themeeting. Another anonymous address thereupon appeared, quieter intone, but congratulating the army on the recognition accorded by thecommander-in-chief. 

When the officers assembled, Washington arose with a manuscript inhis hand, and as he took out his glasses said, simply, "You see, gentlemen, I have grown both blind and gray in your service. " Hisaddress was brief, calm, and strong. The clear, vigorous sentenceswere charged with meaning and with deep feeling. He exhorted them oneand all, both officers and men, to remain loyal and obedient, trueto their glorious past and to their country. He appealed to theirpatriotism, and promised them that which they had always had, hisown earnest support in obtaining justice from Congress. When he hadfinished he quietly withdrew. The officers were deeply moved byhis words, and his influence prevailed. Resolutions were passed, reiterating the demands of the army, but professing entire faith inthe government. This time Congress listened, and the measures grantinghalf-pay in commutation and certain other requests were passed. Thusthis very serious danger was averted, not by the reluctant action ofCongress, but by the wisdom and strength of the general, who was lovedby his soldiers after a fashion that few conquerors could boast. 

Underlying all these general discontents, there was, besides, awell-defined movement, which saw a solution of all difficulties and aredress of all wrongs in a radical change of the form of government, and in the elevation of Washington to supreme power. This party wassatisfied that the existing system was a failure, and that it wasnot and could not be made either strong, honest, or respectable. Theobvious relief was in some kind of monarchy, with a large infusion ofthe one-man power; and it followed, as a matter of course, that theone man could be no other than the commander-in-chief. In May, 1782, when the feeling in the army had risen very high, this party of reformbrought their ideas before Washington through an old and respectedfriend of his, Colonel Nicola. The colonel set forth very clearly thefailure and shortcomings of the existing government, argued in favorof the substitution of something much stronger, and wound up byhinting very plainly that his correspondent was the man for the crisisand the proper savior of society. The letter was forcible and wellwritten, and Colonel Nicola was a man of character and standing. Itcould not be passed over lightly or in silence, and Washington repliedas follows:--

"With a mixture of surprise and astonishment, I have read withattention the sentiments you have submitted to my perusal. Be assured, sir, no occurrence in the course of the war has given me more painfulsensations than your information of there being such ideas existingin the army as you have expressed, and [which] I must view withabhorrence and reprehend with severity. For the present, thecommunication of them will rest in my own bosom, unless some furtheragitation of the matter shall make a disclosure necessary. I ammuch at a loss to conceive what part of my conduct could have givenencouragement to an address which seems to me big with the greatestmischiefs that can befall my country. If I am not deceived in theknowledge of myself, you could not have found a person to whom yourschemes are more disagreeable. At the same time, in justice to my ownfeelings, I must add that no man possesses a more sincere wish tosee justice done to the army than I do; and as far as my power andinfluence in a constitutional way extend, they shall be employed tothe utmost of my abilities to effect it, should there be any occasion. Let me conjure you, then, if you have any regard for your country, concern for yourself or posterity, or respect for me, to banish thesethoughts from your mind, and never communicate, as from yourself orany one else, a sentiment of the like nature. "

This simple but exceedingly plain letter checked the whole movementat once; but the feeling of hostility to the existing system ofgovernment and of confidence in Washington increased steadily throughthe summer and winter. When the next spring had come round, and the"Newburgh addresses" had been published, the excitement was at feverheat. All the army needed was a leader. It was as easy for Washingtonto have grasped supreme power then, as it would have been for Cæsarto have taken the crown from Antony upon the Lupercal. He repelledNicola's suggestion with quiet reproof, and took the actual movement, when it reared its head, into his own hands and turned it into otherchannels. This incident has been passed over altogether too carelesslyby historians and biographers. It has generally been used merely toshow the general nobility of Washington's sentiments, and no properstress has been laid upon the facts of the time which gave birth tosuch an idea and such a proposition. It would have been a perfectlyfeasible thing at that particular moment to have altered the frame ofgovernment and placed the successful soldier in possession of supremepower. The notion of kingly government was, of course, entirelyfamiliar to everybody, and had in itself nothing repulsive. Theconfederation was disintegrated, the States were demoralized, and thewhole social and political life was weakened. The army was the onecoherent, active, and thoroughly organized body in the country. Sixyears of war had turned them from militia into seasoned veterans, andthey stood armed and angry, ready to respond to the call of the greatleader to whom they were entirely devoted. When the English troopswere once withdrawn, there was nothing on the continent that couldhave stood against them. If they had moved, they would have beeneverywhere supported by their old comrades who had returned to theranks of civil life, by all the large class who wanted peace and orderin the quickest and surest way, and by the timid and tired generally. There would have been in fact no serious opposition, probably becausethere would have been no means of sustaining it. 

The absolute feebleness of the general government was shown a fewweeks later, when a recently recruited regiment of Pennsylvania troopsmutinied, and obliged Congress to leave Philadelphia, unable either todefend themselves or procure defense from the State. This mutiny wasput down suddenly and effectively by Washington, very wroth at theinsubordination of raw troops, who had neither fought nor suffered. Yet even such mutineers as these would have succeeded in a largemeasure, had it not been for Washington, and one can easily imaginefrom this incident the result of disciplined and well-planned actionon the part of the army led by their great chief. In that hour ofdebility and relaxation, a military seizure of the government andthe erection of some form of monarchy would not have been difficult. Whether such a change would have lasted is another question, but thereis no reason to doubt that at the moment it might have been effected. Washington, however, not only refused to have anything to do with thescheme, but he used the personal loyalty which might have raised himto supreme power to check all dangerous movements and put in motionthe splendid and unselfish patriotism for which the army wasconspicuous, and which underlay all their irritations and discontents. 

The obvious view of Washington's action in this crisis as a remarkableexhibition of patriotism is at best somewhat superficial. In a man inany way less great, the letter of refusal to Nicola and the treatmentof the opportunity presented at the time of the Newburgh addresseswould have been fine in a high degree. In Washington they were not soextraordinary, for the situation offered him no temptation. Carlylewas led to think slightingly of Washington, one may believe, becausehe did not seize the tottering government with a strong hand, andbring order out of chaos on the instant. But this is a woefulmisunderstanding of the man. To put aside a crown for love of countryis noble, but to look down upon such an opportunity indicates a muchgreater loftiness and strength of mind. Washington was wholly freefrom the vulgar ambition of the usurper, and the desire of merepersonal aggrandizement found no place in his nature. His rulingpassion was the passion for success, and for thorough and completesuccess. What he could not bear was the least shadow of failure. Tohave fought such a war to a victorious finish, and then turned it tohis own advantage, would have been to him failure of the meanestkind. He fought to free the colonies from England, and make themindependent, not to play the part of a Cæsar or a Cromwell in thewreck and confusion of civil war. He flung aside the suggestion ofsupreme power, not simply as dishonorable and unpatriotic, but becausesuch a result would have defeated the one great and noble objectat which he aimed. Nor did he act in this way through any indolentshrinking from the great task of making what he had won worth winning, by crushing the forces of anarchy and separation, and bringing orderand unity out of confusion. From the surrender of Yorktown to theday of his retirement from the Presidency, he worked unceasingly toestablish union and strong government in the country he had madeindependent. He accomplished this great labor more successfullyby honest and lawful methods than if he had taken the path of thestrong-handed savior of society, and his work in this field did morefor the welfare of his country than all his battles. To have restoredorder at the head of the army was much easier than to effect it in theslow and law-abiding fashion which he adopted. To have refused supremerule, and then to have effected in the spirit and under the formsof free government all and more than the most brilliant of militarychiefs could have achieved by absolute power, is a glory which belongsto Washington alone. 

Nevertheless, at that particular juncture it was, as he himself hadsaid, "high time for a peace. " The danger at Newburgh had been avertedby his commanding influence and the patriotic conduct of the army. Butit had been averted only, not removed. The snake was scotched, notkilled. The finishing stroke was still needed in the form of an end tohostilities, and it was therefore fortunate for the United States thata fortnight later, on March 23, news came that a general treatyof peace had been signed. This final consummation of his work, inaddition to the passage by Congress of the half-pay commutation andthe settlement of the army accounts, filled Washington with deeprejoicing. He felt that in a short time, a few weeks at most, he wouldbe free to withdraw to the quiet life at Mount Vernon for which helonged. But public bodies move slowly, and one delay after anotheroccurred to keep him still in the harness. He chafed under thepostponement, but it was not possible to him to remain idle even whenhe awaited in almost daily expectation the hour of dismissal. He sawwith the instinctive glance of statesmanship that the dangerous pointin the treaty of peace was in the provisions as to the western postson the one side, and those relating to British debts on the other. Amonth therefore had not passed before he brought to the attentionof Congress the importance of getting immediate possession of thoseposts, and a little later he succeeded in having Steuben sent out as aspecial envoy to obtain their surrender. The mission was vain, as hehad feared. He was not destined to extract this thorn for many years, and then only after many trials and troubles. Soon afterward he made ajourney with Governor Clinton to Ticonderoga, and along the valley ofthe Mohawk, "to wear away the time, " as he wrote to Congress. He woreaway time to more purpose than most people, for where he traveled heobserved closely, and his observations were lessons which he neverforgot. On this trip he had the western posts and the Indians alwaysin mind, and familiarized himself with the conditions of a part of thecountry where these matters were of great importance. 

On his return he went to Princeton, where Congress had been sittingsince their flight from the mutiny which he had recently suppressed, and where a house had been provided for his use. He remained there twomonths, aiding Congress in their work. During the spring he had beenengaged on the matter of a peace establishment, and he now gaveCongress elaborate and well-matured advice on that question, and onthose of public lands, western settlement, and the best Indian policy. In all these directions his views were clear, far-sighted, and wise. He saw that in these questions was involved much of the futuredevelopment and wellbeing of the country, and he treated them with aprecision and an easy mastery which showed the thought he had given tothe new problems which now were coming to the front. Unluckily, he wasso far ahead, both in knowledge and perception, of the body with whichhe dealt, that he could get little or nothing done, and in Septemberhe wrote in plain but guarded terms of the incapacity of thelawmakers. The people were not yet ripe for his measures, and he wasforced to bide his time, and see the injuries caused by indifferenceand short-sightedness work themselves out. Gradually, however, theabsolutely necessary business was brought to an end. Then Washingtonissued a circular letter to the governors of the States, which wasone of the ablest he ever wrote, and full of the profoundeststatesmanship, and he also sent out a touching address of farewell tothe army, eloquent with wisdom and with patriotism. 

From Princeton he went to West Point, where the army that stillremained in service was stationed. Thence he moved to Harlem, andon November 25 the British army departed, and Washington, with histroops, accompanied by Governor Clinton and some regiments of localmilitia, marched in and took possession. This was the outward signthat the war was over, and that American independence had been won. Carleton feared that the entry of the American army might be thesignal for confusion and violence, in which the Tory inhabitants wouldsuffer; but everything passed off with perfect tranquillity and goodorder, and in the evening Governor Clinton gave a public dinner to thecommander-in-chief and the officers of the army. 

All was now over, and Washington prepared to go to Annapolis and laydown his commission. On December 4 his officers assembled in Fraunces'Tavern to bid him farewell. As he looked about on his faithfulfriends, his usual self-command deserted him, and he could not controlhis voice. Taking a glass of wine, he lifted it up, and said simply, "With a heart full of love and gratitude I now take my leave of you, most devoutly wishing that your latter days may be as prosperous andhappy as your former ones have been glorious and honorable. " The toastwas drunk in silence, and then Washington added, "I cannot come toeach of you and take my leave, but shall be obliged if you will comeand take me by the hand. " One by one they approached, and Washingtongrasped the hand of each man and embraced him. His eyes were full oftears, and he could not trust himself to speak. In silence he badeeach and all farewell, and then, accompanied by his officers, walkedto Whitehall Ferry. Entering his barge, the word was given, and asthe oars struck the water he stood up and lifted his hat. In solemnsilence his officers returned the salute, and watched the noble andgracious figure of their beloved chief until the boat disappeared fromsight behind the point of the Battery. 

At Philadelphia he stopped a few days and adjusted his accounts, whichhe had in characteristic fashion kept himself in the neatest and mostmethodical way. He had drawn no pay, and had expended considerablesums from his private fortune, which he had omitted to charge to thegovernment. The gross amount of his expenses was about 15, 000 poundssterling, including secret service and other incidental outlays. Inthese days of wild money-hunting, there is something worth ponderingin this simple business settlement between a great general and hisgovernment, at the close of eight years of war. This done, he startedagain on his journey. From Philadelphia he proceeded to Annapolis, greeted with addresses and hailed with shouts at every town andvillage on his route, and having reached his destination, he addresseda letter to Congress on December 20, asking when it would be agreeableto them to receive him. The 23d was appointed, and on that day, atnoon, he appeared before Congress. 

The following year a French orator and "maître avocat, " in an orationdelivered at Toulouse upon the American Revolution, described thisscene in these words: "On the day when Washington resigned hiscommission in the hall of Congress, a crown decked with jewels wasplaced upon the Book of the Constitutions. Suddenly Washington seizesit, breaks it, and flings the pieces to the assembled people. Howsmall ambitious Cæsar seems beside the hero of America. " It is worthwhile to recall this contemporary French description, because itstheatrical and dramatic untruth gives such point by contrast to theplain and dignified reality. The scene was the hall of Congress. Themembers representing the sovereign power were seated and covered, while all the space about was filled by the governor and stateofficers of Maryland, by military officers, and by the ladies andgentlemen of the neighborhood, who stood in respectful silence withuncovered heads. Washington was introduced by the Secretary ofCongress, and took a chair which had been assigned to him. There wasa brief pause, and then the president said that "the United Statesin Congress assembled were prepared to receive his communication. "Washington rose, and replied as follows:--

"Mr. President: The great events, on which my resignation depended, having at length taken place, I have now the honor of offering mysincere congratulations to Congress, and of presenting myself beforethem, to surrender into their hands the trust committed to me, and toclaim the indulgence of retiring from the service of my country. 

"Happy in the confirmation of our independence and sovereignty, andpleased with the opportunity afforded the United States of becominga respectable nation, I resign with satisfaction the appointment Iaccepted with diffidence; a diffidence in my abilities to accomplishso arduous a task, which, however, was superseded by a confidence inthe rectitude of our cause, the support of the supreme power of theUnion, and the patronage of Heaven. The successful termination of thewar has verified the most sanguine expectations; and my gratitude forthe interposition of Providence, and the assistance I have receivedfrom my countrymen, increases with every review of the momentouscontest. " Then, after a word of gratitude to the army and to hisstaff, he concluded as follows: "I consider it an indispensable dutyto close this last solemn act of my official life by commending theinterests of our dearest country to the protection of Almighty God, and those who have the superintendence of them to his holy keeping. 

"Having now finished the work assigned me, I retire from the greattheatre of action; and bidding an affectionate farewell to thisaugust body, under whose orders I have so long acted, I here offer mycommission, and take my leave of all the employments of public life. "

In singularly graceful and eloquent words his old opponent, ThomasMifflin, the president, replied, the simple ceremony ended, andWashington left the room a private citizen. 

The great master of English fiction, touching this scene with skillfulhand, has said: "Which was the most splendid spectacle ever witnessed, the opening feast of Prince George in London, or the resignationof Washington? Which is the noble character for after ages toadmire, --yon fribble dancing in lace and spangles, or yonder herowho sheathes his sword after a life of spotless honor, a purityunreproached, a courage indomitable, and a consummate victory?"

There is no need to say more. Comment or criticism on such a farewell, from such a man, at the close of a long civil war, would be not onlysuperfluous but impertinent. The contemporary newspaper, in its meagreaccount, said that the occasion was deeply solemn and affecting, andthat many persons shed tears. Well indeed might those then presenthave been thus affected, for they had witnessed a scene memorableforever in the annals of all that is best and noblest in human nature. They had listened to a speech which was not equaled in meaning andspirit in American history until, eighty years later, Abraham Lincolnstood upon the slopes of Gettysburg and uttered his immortal wordsupon those who died that the country might live. 

INDEX for Volumes I & II

 ACKERSON, DAVID, describes Washington's personal appearance, ii. 386-388. 

 Adams, Abigail, on Washington's appearance in 1775, i. 137. 

 Adams, John, moves appointment of Washington as commander-in-chief, i. 134; on political necessity for his appointment, 135; and objections to it, 135; statement as to Washington's difficulties, 163; over-sanguine as to American prospects, 171; finds fault with Washington, 214, 215; one of few national statesmen, 252; on Washington's opinion of titles, ii. 52; advocates ceremony, 54; returns to United States, 137; attacked by Jefferson as a monarchist, 226; praised by Democrats as superior to Washington, 251; his administration upheld by Washington, 259; advised by Washington, 260; his inauguration, 276; sends special mission to France, 284; urges Washington to take command of provisional army, 285; wishes to make Knox senior to Hamilton, 286; censured by Washington, gives way, 287; lack of sympathy with Washington, 287; his nomination of Murray disapproved by Washington, 292, 293; letter of Washington to, on immigration, 326. 

 Adams, J. Q. , on weights and measures, ii. 81. 

 Adams, Samuel, not sympathized with by Washington in working for independence, i. 131; his inability to sympathize with Washington, 204; an enemy of Constitution, ii. 71; a genuine American, 309. 

 Alcudia, Duke de, interviews with Pinckney, ii. 166. 

 Alexander, Philip, hunts with Washington, i. 115. 

 Alien and Sedition Laws, approved by Washington and Federalists, ii. 290, 297. 

 Ames, Fisher, speech on behalf of administration in Jay treaty affair, ii. 210. 

 André, Major, meets Arnold, i. 282; announces capture to Arnold, 284; confesses, 284; condemned and executed, 287; justice of the sentence, 287, 288; Washington's opinion of, 288, ii. 357. 

 Armstrong, John, Major, writes Newburg address, i. 335. 

 Army of the Revolution, at Boston, adopted by Congress, i. 134; its organization and character, 136-143; sectional jealousies in, at New York, 162; goes to pieces after defeat, 167, 175, 176; condition in winter of 1777, 186; difficulties between officers, 189; with foreign officers, 190-192; improvement as shown by condition after Brandywine and Germantown, 200, 201; hard winter at Valley Forge, 228; maintained alive only by Washington, 227, 228, 232; improved morale at Monmouth, 239; mutinies for lack of pay, 258; suffers during 1779, 270; bad condition in 1780, 279; again mutinies for pay, 291, 292, 295; conduct of troops, 292, 293; jealousy of people towards, 332; badly treated by States and by Congress, 333; grows mutinous, 334; adopts Newburg addresses, 335, 336; ready for a military dictatorship, 338, 340; farewell of Washington to, 345. 

 Arnold, Benedict, sent by Washington to attack Quebec, i. 144; sent against Burgoyne, 210; plans treason, 281; shows loyalist letter to Washington, 282; meets André, 282; receives news of André's capture, 284; escapes, 284, 285; previous benefits from Washington, 286; Washington's opinion of, 288; ravages Virginia, 303; sent back to New York, 303; one of the few men who deceived Washington, ii. 336. 

 Arnold, Mrs. , entertains Washington at time of her husband's treachery, i. 284, 285. 

 Articles of Confederation, their inadequacy early seen by Washington, i. 297, 298; ii. 17. 

 Asgill, Capt. , selected for retaliation for murder of Huddy, i. 328; efforts for his release, 329; release ordered by Congress, 330. 

 BACHE, B. F. , publishes Jay treaty in "Aurora, " ii. 185; joins in attack on Washington, 238, 244; rejoices over his retirement, 256. 

 Baker, ----, works out a pedigree for Washington, i. 31. 

 Ball, Joseph, advises against sending Washington to sea, i. 49, 50. 

 Barbadoes, Washington's description of, i. 64. 

 Beckley, John, accuses Washington of embezzling, ii. 245. 

 Bernard, John, his conversation with Washington referred to, i. 58, 107; describes encounter with Washington, ii. 281-283; his description of Washington's conversation, 343-348. 

 Blackwell, Rev. Dr. , calls on Washington with Dr. Logan, ii. 264. 

 Blair, John, appointed to Supreme Court, ii. 73. 

 Bland, Mary, "Lowland Beauty, " admired by Washington, i. 95, 96. 

 Blount, Governor, pacifies Cherokees, ii. 94. 

 Boston, visit of Washington to, i. 97, 99; political troubles in, 120; British measures against condemned by Virginia, 122, 123; appeals to colonies, 124; protests against Jay treaty, ii. 186; answered by Washington, 190. 

 Botetourt, Lord, Governor of Virginia, quarrels with Assembly, i. 121; manages to calm dissension, 122; on friendly terms with Washington, 122. 

 Braddock, General Edward, arrives in Virginia, i. 82; invites Washington to serve on his staff, 82; respects him, 83; his character and unfitness for his position, 83; despises provincials, 83; accepts Washington's advice as to dividing force, 84; rebukes Washington for warning against ambush, 85; insists on fighting by rule, 85; defeated and mortally wounded, 85; death and burial, 87. 

 Bradford, William, succeeds Randolph, ii. 246. 

 Brandywine, battle of, i. 196-198. 

 Bunker Hill, question of Washington regarding battle of, i. 136. 

 Burgoyne, General John, junction of Howe with, feared by Washington, i. 194, 195, 205, 206; significance of his defeat, 202; danger of his invasion foreseen by Washington, 203-206; captures Ticonderoga, 207; outnumbered and defeated, 210; surrenders, 211. 

 Burke, Edmund, understands significance of Washington's leadership, i. 202; unsettled by French Revolution, ii. 294. 

 CABOT, GEORGE, entertains Lafayette's son, ii. 366. 

 Cadwalader, General, fails to cross Delaware to help Washington, i. 180; duel with Conway, 226. 

 Calvert, Eleanor, misgivings of Washington over her marriage to John Custis, i. 111. 

 Camden, battle of, i. 281. 

 Canada, captured by Wolfe, i. 94; expedition of Montgomery against, 143, 144; project of Conway cabal against, 222; 253; project of Lafayette to attack, 254; plan considered dangerous by Washington, 254, 255; not undertaken by France, 256. 

 Carleton, Sir Guy, informs Washington of address of Commons for peace, i. 324; suspected by Washington, 325; remonstrates against retaliation by Washington for murder of Huddy, 328; disavows Lippencott, 328; fears plunder of New York city, 345; urges Indians to attack the United States, ii. 102, 175. 

 Carlisle, Earl of, peace commissioner, i. 233. 

 Carlyle, Thomas, sneers at Washington, i. 4, 14; calls him "a bloodless Cromwell, " i. 69, ii. 332; fails to understand his reticence, i. 70; despises him for not seizing power, 341. 

 Carmichael, William, minister at Madrid, ii. 165; on commission regarding the Mississippi, 166. 

 Carrington, Paul, letter of Washington to, ii. 208; Washington's friendship for, 363. 

 Cary, Mary, early love affair of Washington with, i. 96. 

 Chamberlayne, Major, entertains Washington at Williams' Ferry, i. 101. 

 Charleston, siege and capture of, i. 273, 274, 276. 

 Chastellux, Marquis de, Washington's friendship for and letter to, ii. 351; on Washington's training of horses, 380. 

 Cherokees, beaten by Sevier, ii. 89; pacified by Blount, 94, 101. 

 Chester, Colonel, researches on Washington pedigree, i. 31. 

 Chickasaws, desert from St. Clair, ii. 96. 

 China, honors Washington, i. 6. 

 Choctaws, peaceable in 1788, ii. 89. 

 Cincinnati, Society of the, Washington's connection with, ii. 4. 

 Clarke, Governor, thinks Washington is invading popular rights, i. 215. 

 Cleaveland, Rev. ----, complimented by Washington, ii. 359. 

 Clinton, George, appealed to by Washington to attack Burgoyne, i. 210; journey with Washington to Ticonderoga, 343; enters New York city, 345; letter of Washington to, ii. 1; meets Washington on journey to inauguration, 45; opponent of the Constitution, 71; orders seizure of French privateers, 153. 

 Clinton, Sir Henry, fails to help Burgoyne, i. 210; replaces Howe at Philadelphia, his character, 232; tries to cut off Lafayette, 233; leaves Philadelphia, 234; defeats Lee at Monmouth, 236; retreats to New York, 238; withdraws from Newport, 248; makes a raid, 265; fortifies Stony Point, 268; his aimless warfare, 269, 270; after capturing Charleston returns to New York, 276; tries to save André, 287; alarmed at attacks on New York, 306; jealous of Cornwallis, refuses to send reinforcements, 308; deceived by Washington, 311; sends Graves to relieve Cornwallis, 312. 

 Congress, Continental, Washington's journey to, i. 128; its character and ability, 129; its state papers, 129; adjourns, 132; in second session, resolves to petition the king, 133; adopts Massachusetts army and makes Washington commander, 134; reasons for his choice, 135; adheres to short-term enlistments, 149; influenced to declare independence by Washington, 160; hampers Washington in campaign of New York, 167; letters of Washington to, 170, 179, 212, 225, 229, 266, 278, 295, 321, 323, 333; takes steps to make army permanent, 171; its over-confidence, 171; insists on holding Forts Washington and Lee, 174; dissatisfied with Washington's inactivity, 187; criticises his proclamation requiring oath of allegiance, 189; makes unwise appointments of officers, 189; especially of foreigners, 190-192; 248, 249; applauds Washington's efforts at Germantown, 200; deposes Schuyler and St. Clair, 208; appoints Gates, 210; irritation against Washington, 212-215; falls under guidance of Conway cabal, 221, 222; discovers incompetence of cabal, 223; meddles with prisoners and officers, 231; rejects English peace offers, 233; makes alliance with France, 241; suppresses protests of officers against D'Estaing, 244; decline in its character, 257; becomes feeble, 258; improvement urged by Washington, 259, 266; appoints Gates to command in South, 268; loses interest in war, 278; asks Washington to name general for the South, 295; considers reduction of army, 313; elated by Yorktown, 323; its unfair treatment of army, 333, 335; driven from Philadelphia by Pennsylvania troops, 340; passes half-pay act, 342; receives commission of Washington, 347-349; disbands army, ii. 6; indifferent to Western expansion, 15; continues to decline, 22; merit of its Indian policy, 88. 

 Congress, Federal, establishes departments, ii. 64; opened by Washington, 78, 79; ceremonial abolished by Jefferson, 79; recommendations made to by Washington, 81-83; acts upon them, 81-83; creates commission to treat with Creeks, 90; increases army, 94, 99; fails to solve financial problems, 106; debates Hamilton's report on credit, 107, 108; establishes national bank, 109; establishes protective revenue duties, 113; imposes an excise tax, 123; prepares for retaliation on Great Britain, 176; Senate ratifies Jay treaty conditionally, 184; House demands papers, 207; debates over its right to concur in treaty, 208-210; refuses to adjourn on Washington's birthday, 247; prepares for war with France, 285; passes Alien and Sedition Laws, 296. 

 Constitution, Federal, necessity of, foreseen by Washington, ii. 17-18, 23, 24; the Annapolis Convention, 23-29; the Federal Convention, 30-36; Washington's attitude in, 31, 34; his influence, 36; campaign for ratification, 38-41. 

 Contrecoeur, Captain, leader of French and Indians in Virginia, i. 75. 

 "Conway cabal, " elements of in Congress, i. 214, 215; in the army, 215; organized by Conway, 217; discovered by Washington, 220; gets control of Board of War, 221; tries to make Washington resign, 222, 224; fails to invade Canada or provide supplies, 222, 223; harassed by Washington's letters, 223, 226; breaks down, 226. 

 Conway, Moncure D. , his life of Randolph, ii. 65, note, 196; his defense of Randolph in Fauchet letter affair, 196; on Washington's motives, 200; on his unfair treatment of Randolph, 201, 202. 

 Conway, Thomas, demand for higher rank refused by Washington, i. 216; plots against him, 217; his letter discovered by Washington, 221; made inspector-general, 221, 222; complains to Congress of his reception at camp, 225; resigns, has duel with Cadwalader, 226; apologizes to Washington and leaves country, 226. 

 Cooke, Governor, remonstrated with by Washington for raising state troops, i. 186. 

 Cornwallis, Lord, pursues Washington in New Jersey, i. 175; repulsed at Assunpink, 181; outgeneraled by Washington, 182; surprises Sullivan at Brandywine, 197; defeats Lee at Monmouth, 236; pursues Greene in vain, 302; wins battle of Guilford Court House, 302; retreats into Virginia, 302; joins British troops in Virginia, 303; his dangerous position, 304; urged by Clinton to return troops to New York, 306; plunders Virginia, 307; defeats Lafayette and Wayne, 307; wishes to retreat South, 307; ordered by ministry to stay on the Chesapeake, 307; abandoned by Clinton, 308; establishes himself at Yorktown, 308; withdraws into town, 315; besieged, 316, 317; surrenders, 317; outgeneraled by Washington, 319, 320. 

 Cowpens, battle of, i. 301. 

 Craik, Dr. , attends Washington in last illness, ii. 300-302; Washington's friendship with, 363. 

 Creeks, their relations with Spaniards, ii. 89, 90; quarrel with Georgia, 90; agree to treaty with United States, 91; stirred up by Spain, 101. 

 Curwen, Samuel, on Washington's appearance, i. 137. 

 Cushing, Caleb, appointed to Supreme Court, ii. 72. 

 Custis, Daniel Parke, first husband of Martha Washington, i. 101. 

 Custis, G. W. P. , tells mythical story of Washington and the colt, i. 45; Washington's care for, ii. 369. 

 Custis, John, Washington's tenderness toward, i. 111; care for his education and marriage, 111; hunts with Washington, 141; death of, 322. 

 Custis, Nellie, marriage with Washington's nephew, ii. 281, 369; letter of Washington to, 377. 

 DAGWORTHY, CAPTAIN, claims to outrank Washington in Virginia army, i. 91, 97. 

 Dallas, Alexander, protests to Genet against sailing of Little Sarah, ii. 155. 

 Dalton, Senator, entertains Washington at Newburyport, ii. 359. 

 Deane, Silas, promises commissions to foreign military adventurers, i. 190. 

 De Barras, jealous of De Grasse, decides not to aid him, i. 310; persuaded to do so by Washington and Rochambeau, 311; reaches Chesapeake, 312. 

 De Grasse, Comte, announces intention of coming to Washington, i. 305; warned by Washington not to come to New York, 305; sails to Chesapeake, 306; asked to meet Washington there, 308; reaches Chesapeake, 312; repulses British fleet, 312; wishes to return to West Indies, 315; persuaded to remain by Washington, 315; refuses to join Washington in attack on Charleston, 322; returns to West Indies, 322. 

 De Guichen, ----, commander of French fleet in West Indies, i. 280; appealed to for aid by Washington, 281; returns home, 282. 

 Delancey, Oliver, escapes American attack, i. 306. 

 Democratic party, its formation as a French party, ii. 225; furnished with catch-words by Jefferson, 226; with a newspaper organ, 227; not ready to oppose Washington for president in 1792, 235; organized against treasury measure, 236; stimulated by French Revolution, 238; supports Genet, 237; begins to attack Washington, 238; his opinion of it, 239, 240, 258, 261, 267, 268; forms clubs on French model, 241; Washington's opinion of, 242, 243; continues to abuse him, 244, 245, 250, 252; exults at his retirement, 256; prints slanders, 257. 

 Demont, William, betrays plans of Fort Washington to Howe, i. 175. 

 D'Estaing, Admiral, reaches America, i. 242; welcomed by Washington, 243; fails to cut off Howe and goes to Newport, 243; after battle with Howe goes to Boston, 244; letter of Washington to, 246; sails to West Indies, 246; second letter of Washington to, 247; attacks Savannah, 248; withdraws, 248. 

 De Rochambeau, Comte, arrives at Newport, i. 277; ordered to await second division of army, 278; refuses to attack New York, 280; wishes a conference with Washington, 282; meets him at Hartford, 282; disapproves attacking Florida, 301; joins Washington before New York, 306; persuades De Barras to join De Grasse, 311; accompanies Washington to Yorktown, 314. 

 Dickinson, John, commands scouts at Monmouth, i. 326. 

 Digby, Admiral, bitter comments of Washington on, i. 325. 

 Dinwiddie, Governor, remonstrates against French encroachments, i. 66; sends Washington on mission to French, 66; quarrels with the Virginia Assembly, 71; letter of Washington to, 73; wishes Washington to attack French, 79; tries to quiet discussions between regular and provincial troops, 80; military schemes condemned by Washington, 91; prevents his getting a royal commission, 93. 

 Diplomatic History: refusal by Washington of special privileges to French minister, ii. 59-61; slow growth of idea of non-intervention, 132, 133; difficulties owing to French Revolution, 134; to English retention of frontier posts, 135; attitude of Spain, 135; relations with Barbary States, 136; mission of Gouverneur Morris to sound English feeling, 137; assertion by Washington of non-intervention policy toward Europe, 145, 146; issue of neutrality proclamation, 147, 148; its importance, 148; mission of Genet, 148-162; guarded attitude of Washington toward émigrés, 151; excesses of Genet, 151; neutrality enforced, 153, 154; the Little Sarah episode, 154-157; recall of Genet demanded, 158; futile missions of Carmichael and Short to Spain, 165, 166; successful treaty of Thomas Pinckney, 166-168; question as to binding nature of French treaty of commerce, 169-171; irritating relations with England, 173-176; Jay's mission, 177-184; the questions at issue, 180, 181; terms of the treaty agreed upon, 182; good and bad points, 183; ratified by Senate, 184; signing delayed by renewal of provision order, 185; war with England prevented by signing, 205; difficulties with France over Morris and Monroe, 211-214; doings of Monroe, 212, 213; United States compromised by him, 213, 214; Monroe replaced by Pinckney, 214; review of Washington's foreign policy, 216-219; mission of Pinckney, Marshall, and Gerry to France, 284; the X. Y. Z. Affair, 285. 

 Donop, Count, drives Griffin out of New Jersey, i. 180; killed at Fort Mercer, 217. 

 Dorchester, Lord. See Carleton. 

 Duane, James, letters of Washington to, i. 294, 329. 

 Dumas, Comte, describes enthusiasm of people for Washington, i. 288. 

 Dunbar, Colonel, connection with Braddock's expedition, i. 84, 87. 

 Dunmore, Lord, arrives in Virginia as governor, i. 122; on friendly terms with Washington, 122, 123; dissolves assembly, 123. 

 Duplaine, French consul, exequatur of revoked, ii. 159. 

 EDEN, WILLIAM, peace commissioner, i. 233. 

 Edwards, Jonathan, a typical New England American, ii. 309. 

 Emerson, Rev. Dr. , describes Washington's reforms in army before Boston, i. 140. 

 Emigrés, Washington's treatment of, ii. 151, 253. 

 England, honors Washington, i. 20; arrogant behavior toward colonists, 80, 81, 82, 148; its policy towards Boston condemned by Virginia, 119, 121, 123, 126; by Washington, 124, 125, 126; sends incompetent officers to America, 155, 201, 202, 233; stupidity of its operations, 203, 205, 206, 265; sincerity of its desire for peace doubted by Washington, 324, 325; arrogant conduct of toward the United States after peace, ii. 24, 25; stirs up the Six Nations and Northwestern Indians, 92, 94, 101; folly of her policy, 102; sends Hammond as minister, 169; its opportunity to win United States as ally against France, 171, 172; adopts contrary policy of opposition, 172, 173; adopts "provision order, " 174; incites Indians against United States, 175; indignation of America against, 176; receives Jay well, but refuses to yield points at issue, 180; insists on monopoly of West India trade, 180; and on impressment, 181; later history of, 181; renews provision order, 185; danger of war with, 193; avoided by Jay treaty, 205; Washington said to sympathize with England, 252; his real hostility toward, 254; Washington's opinion of liberty in, 344. 

 Ewing, General James, fails to help Washington at Trenton, i. 180. 

 FAIRFAX, BRYAN, hunts with Washington, i. 115; remonstrates with Washington against violence of patriots, 124; Washington's replies to, 124, 126, 127; letter of Washington to in Revolution, ii. 366. 

 Fairfax, George, married to Miss Cary, i. 55; accompanies Washington on surveying expedition, 58; letter of Washington to, 133. 

 Fairfax, Mrs. ----, letter of Washington to, ii. 367. 

 Fairfax, Thomas, Lord, his career in England, i. 55; comes to his Virginia estates, 55; his character, 55; his friendship for Washington, 56; sends him to survey estates, 56; plans a manor across the Blue Ridge, 59; secures for Washington position as public surveyor, 60; probably influential in securing his appointment as envoy to French, 66; hunts with Washington, 115; his death remembered by Washington, ii. 366. 

 Fairlie, Major, amuses Washington, ii. 374. 

 Farewell Address, ii. 248, 249. 

 Fauchet, M. , ----, letter of, incriminating Randolph, ii. 195, 196, 202. 

 Fauntleroy, Betsy, love affair of Washington with, i. 97. 

 Fauquier, Francis, Governor, at Washington's wedding, i. 101. 

 Federal courts, suggested by Washington, i. 150. 

 "Federalist, " circulated by Washington, ii. 40. 

 Federalist party, begun by Hamilton's controversy with Jefferson, ii. 230; supports Washington for reëlection, 235; organized in support of financial measures, 236; Washington looked upon by Democrats as its head, 244, 247; only its members trusted by Washington, 246, 247, 259, 260, 261; becomes a British party, 255; Washington considers himself a member of, 269-274; the only American party until 1800, 273; strengthened by X, Y, Z affair, 285; dissensions in, over army appointments, 286-290; its horror at French Revolution, 294, 295; attempts of Washington to heal divisions in, 298. 

 Fenno's newspaper, used by Hamilton against the "National Gazette, " ii. 230. 

 Finances of the Revolution, effect of paper money on war, i. 258, 262; difficulties in paying troops, 258; labors of Robert Morris, 259, 264, 312; connection of Washington with, 263; continued collapse, 280, 290, 312. 

 Financial History, bad condition in 1789, ii. 105; decay of credit, paper, and revenue, 106; futile propositions, 106; Hamilton's report on credit, 107; debate over assumption of state debt, 107; bargain between Hamilton and Jefferson, 108; establishment of bank, 109; other measures adopted, 112; protection in the first Congress, 112-115; the excise tax imposed, 123; opposition to, 123-127; "Whiskey Rebellion, " 127-128. 

 Fishbourn, Benjamin, nomination rejected by Senate, ii. 63. 

 Fontanes, M. De, delivers funeral oration on Washington, i. 1. 

 Forbes, General, renews attack on French in Ohio, i. 93. 

 Forman, Major, describes impressiveness of Washington, ii. 389. 

 Fox, Charles James, understands significance of Washington's leadership, i. 202. 

 France, pays honors to Washington, i. I, 6; war with England, see French and Indian war; takes possession of Ohio, 65; considers Jumonville assassinated by Washington, 74; importance of alliance with foreseen by Washington, 191; impressed by battle of Germantown, 200; makes treaty of alliance with United States, 241; sends D'Estaing, 243; declines to attack Canada, 256; sends army and fleet, 274, 277; relations of French to Washington, 318, 319; absolute necessity of their naval aid, 318, 319; Revolution in, applauded by America, ii. 138, 139, 142; real character understood by Washington and others, 139-142, 295; debate over in America, 142; question of relations with United States, 143, 144; warned by Washington, 144, 145; neutrality toward declared, 147; tries to drive United States into alliance, 149; terms of the treaty with, 169; latter held to be no longer binding, 169-171; abrogates it, 171; demands recall of Morris, 211; mission of Monroe to, 211-214; makes vague promises, 212, 213; Washington's fairness toward, 253; tries to bully or corrupt American ministers, 284; the X, Y, Z affair, 285; war with not expected by Washington, 291; danger of concession to, 292, 293; progress of Revolution in, 294. 

 Franklin, Benjamin, gets wagons for Braddock's expedition, i. 84; remark on Howe in Philadelphia, 219; national, like Washington, 252, ii. 8; despairs of success of Constitutional Convention, 35; his unquestioned Americanism, 309; respect of Washington for, 344, 346, 364. 

 Frederick II. , the Great, his opinion of Trenton campaign, i. 183; of Monmouth campaign, 239. 

 French and Indian war, i. 64-94; inevitable conflict, 65; efforts to negotiate, 66, 67; hostilities begun, 72; the Jumonville affair, 74; defeat of Washington, 76; Braddock's campaign, 82-88; ravages in Virginia, 90; carried to a favorable conclusion by Pitt, 93, 94. 

 Freneau, Philip, brought to Philadelphia and given clerkship by Jefferson, ii. 227; attacks Adams, Hamilton, and Washington in "National Gazette, " 227; makes conflicting statements as to Jefferson's share in the paper, 227, 228; the first to attack Washington, 238. 

 Fry, Colonel, commands a Virginia regiment against French and Indians, i. 71; dies, leaving Washington in command, 75. 

 GAGE, GENERAL THOMAS, conduct at Boston condemned by Washington, i. 126; his treatment of prisoners protested against by Washington, 145; sends an arrogant reply, 147; second letter of Washington to, 147, 156. 

 Gallatin, Albert, connection with Whiskey Rebellion, ii. 129. 

 Gates, Horatio, visits Mt. Vernon, his character, i. 132; refuses to cooperate with Washington at Trenton, 180; his appointment as commander against Burgoyne urged, 208; chosen by Congress, 209; his part in defeating Burgoyne, 210; neglects to inform Washington, 211; loses his head and wishes to supplant Washington, 215; forced to send troops South, 216, 217; his attitude discovered by Washington, 221; makes feeble efforts at opposition, 221, 223; correspondence with Washington, 221, 223, 226; becomes head of board of war, 221; quarrels with Wilkinson, 223; sent to his command, 226; fears attack of British on Boston, 265; sent by Congress to command in South, 268; defeated at Camden, 281, 294; loses support of Congress, 294. 

 Genet, Edmond Charles, arrives as French minister, ii. 148; his character, 149; violates neutrality, 151; his journey to Philadelphia, 151; reception by Washington, 152; complains of it, 153; makes demands upon State Department, 153; protests at seizure of privateers, 153; insists on sailing of Little Sarah, 155; succeeds in getting vessel away, 157; his recall demanded, 158; reproaches Jefferson, 158; remains in America, 158; threatens to appeal from Washington to Massachusetts, 159; demands denial from Washington of Jay's statements, 159; loses popular support, 160; tries to raise a force to invade Southwest, 161; prevented by state and federal authorities, 162; his arrival the signal for divisions of parties, 237; hurts Democratic party by his excesses, 241; suggests clubs, 241. 

 George IV. , Washington's opinion of, ii. 346. 

 Georgia, quarrels with Creeks, asks aid of United States, ii. 90; becomes dissatisfied with treaty, 91; disregards treaties of the United States, 103. 

 Gerard, M. , notifies Washington of return of D'Estaing, i. 246. 

 Germantown, battle of, i. 199. 

 Gerry, Elbridge, on special mission to France, ii. 284; disliked by Washington, 292. 

 Giles, W. B. , attacks Washington in Congress, ii. 251, 252. 

 Gist, Christopher, accompanies Washington on his mission to French, i. 66; wishes to shoot French Indians, 68. 

 Gordon, ----, letter of Washington to, i. 227. 

 Graves, Admiral, sent to relieve Cornwallis, i. 312; defeated by De Grasse, 312. 

 Grayson, William, hunts with Washington, i. 115; letter to, ii. 22. 

 Green Springs, battle of, i. 307. 

 Greene, General Nathanael, commands at Long Island, ill with fever, i. 164; wishes forts on Hudson held, 174; late in attacking at Germantown, 199; conducts retreat, 200; succeeds Mifflin as quartermaster-general, 232; selected by Washington to command in South, 268; commands army at New York in absence of Washington, 282; appointed to command Southern army, 295; retreats from Cornwallis, 302; fights battle of Guilford Court House, 302; clears Southern States of enemy, 302; strong position, 304; reinforced by Washington, 322; letter to, 325; his military capacity early recognized by Washington, ii. 334; amuses Washington, 374. 

 Greene, Mrs. ----, dances three hours with Washington, ii. 380. 

 Grenville, Lord, denies that ministry has incited Indians against United States, ii. 175; receives Jay, 180; declines to grant United States trade with West Indies, 181. 

 Griffin, David, commissioner to treat with Creeks, ii. 90. 

 Griffin, ----, fails to help Washington at Trenton, i. 180. 

 Grymes, Lucy, the "Lowland Beauty, " love affair of Washington with, i. 95; marries Henry Lee, 96. 

 HALDIMAND, SIR FREDERICK, leads Indians against colonists, i. 325. 

 Hale, Nathan, compared with André, i. 288. 

 Half-King, kept to English alliance by Washington, i. 68; his criticism of Washington's first campaign, 76. 

 Hamilton, Alexander, forces Gates to send back troops to Washington, i. 216, 217; remark on councils of war before Monmouth, 234; informs Washington of Arnold's treason, 284; sent to intercept Arnold, 285; writes letters on government and finance, 298; leads attack at Yorktown, i. 316; requests release of Asgill, 329; aids Washington in Congress, 333; only man beside Washington and Franklin to realize American future, ii. 7; letters of Washington to on necessity of a strong government, 17, 18; writes letters to Duane and Morris, 19; speech in Federal Convention and departure, 35; counseled by Washington, 39; consulted by Washington as to etiquette, 54; made secretary of treasury, 66; his character, 67; his report on the mint, 81; on the public credit, 107; upheld by Washington, 107, 108; his arrangement with Jefferson, 108; argument on the bank, 110; his success largely due to Washington, 112; his report on manufactures, 112, 114, 116; advocates an excise, 122; fails to realize its unpopularity, 123; accompanies expedition to suppress Whiskey Rebellion, 128; comprehends French Revolution, 139; frames questions to cabinet on neutrality, 147; urges decisive measures against Genet, 154; argues against United States being bound by French treaty, 169; selected for English mission, but withdraws, 177; not likely to have done better than Jay, 183; mobbed in defending Jay treaty, 187; writes Camillus letters in favor of Jay treaty, 206; intrigued against by Monroe, 212; causes for his breach with Jefferson, 224; his aristocratic tendencies, 225; attacked by Jefferson and his friends, 228, 229; disposes of the charges, 229; retorts in newspapers with effect, 230; ceases at Washington's request, 230, 234; resigns from the cabinet, 234; desires Washington's reëlection, 235; selected by Washing, ton as senior general, 286; appeals to Washington against Adams's reversal of rank, 286; fails to soothe Knox's anger, 288; report on army organization, 290; letter of Washington to, condemning Adams's French mission, 293; fears anarchy from Democratic success, 295; approves Alien and Sedition Acts, 296; his scheme of a military academy approved by Washington, 299; Washington's affection for, 317, 362; his ability early recognized by Washington, 334, 335; aids Washington in literary points, 340; takes care of Lafayette's son, 366. 

 Hammond, George, protests against violations of neutrality, ii. 151; his arrival as British minister, 169; his offensive tone, 173; does not disavow Lord Dorchester's speech to Indians, 176; gives Fauchet letters to Wolcott, 195; intrigues with American public men, 200. 

 Hampden, John, compared with Washington, ii. 312, 313. 

 Hancock, John, disappointed at Washington's receiving command of army, i. 135; his character, ii. 74; refuses to call first on Washington as President, 75; apologizes and calls, 75, 76. 

 Hardin, Colonel, twice surprised and defeated by Indians, ii. 93. 

 Harmar, Colonel, invades Indian country, ii. 92; attacks the Miamis, 93; sends out unsuccessful expeditions and retreats, 93; court-martialed and resigns, 93. 

 Harrison, Benjamin, letters of Washington to, i. 259, 261; ii. 10. 

 Hartley, Mrs. ----, admired by Washington, i. 95. 

 Heard, Sir Isaac, Garter King at Arms, makes out a pedigree for Washington, i. 30, 31. 

 Heath, General, checks Howe at Frog's Point, i. 173; left in command at New York, 311. 

 Henry, Patrick, his resolutions supported by Washington, i. 119; accompanies him to Philadelphia, 128; his tribute to Washington's influence, 130; ready for war, 132; letters of Conway cabal to against Washington, 222; letter of Washington to, 225; appealed to by Washington on behalf of Constitution, ii. 38; an opponent of the Constitution, 71; urged by Washington to oppose Virginia resolutions, 266-268, 293; a genuine American, 309; offered secretaryship of state, 324; friendship of Washington for, 362. 

 Hertburn, Sir William de, ancestor of Washington family, i. 31, 33. 

 Hessians, in Revolution, i. 194. 

 Hickey, Thomas, hanged for plotting to murder Washington, i. 160. 

 Hobby, ----, a sexton, Washington's earliest teacher, i. 48. 

 Hopkinson, Francis, letter of Washington to, ii. 3. 

 Houdon, J. A. , sculptor, on Washington's appearance, ii. 386. 

 Howe, Lord, arrives at New York with power to negotiate and pardon, i. 161; refuses to give Washington his title, 161; tries to negotiate with Congress, 167; escapes D'Estaing at Delaware, 244; attacks D'Estaing off Newport, 244. 

 Howe, Sir William, has controversy with Washington over treatment of prisoners, i. 148; checked at Frog's Point, 173; attacks cautiously at Chatterton Hill, 173; retreats and attacks forts on Hudson, 174; takes Fort Washington, 175; goes into winter quarters in New York, 177, 186; suspected of purpose to meet Burgoyne, 194, 195; baffled in advance across New Jersey by Washington, 194; goes by sea, 195; arrives at Head of Elk, 196; defeats Washington at Brandywine, 197; camps at Germantown, 199; withdraws after Germantown into Philadelphia, 201; folly of his failure to meet Burgoyne, 205, 206; offers battle in vain to Washington, 218; replaced by Clinton, 232; tries to cut off Lafayette, 233. 

 Huddy, Captain, captured by English, hanged by Tories, i. 327. 

 Humphreys, Colonel, letters of Washington to, ii. 13, 339; at opening of Congress, 78; commissioner to treat with Creeks, 90; anecdote of, 375. 

 Huntington, Lady, asks Washington's aid in Christianizing Indians, ii. 4. 

 IMPRESSMENT, right of, maintained by England, ii. 181. 

 Independence, not wished, but foreseen, by Washington, i. 131, 156; declared by Congress, possibly through Washington's influence, 160. 

 Indians, wars with in Virginia, i. 37, 38; in French and Indian war, 67, 68; desert English, 76; in Braddock's defeat, 85, 86, 88; restless before Revolution, 122; in War of Revolution, 266, 270; punished by Sullivan, 269; policy toward, early suggested by Washington, 344; recommendations relative to in Washington's address to Congress, ii. 82; the "Indian problem" under Washington's administration, 83-105; erroneous popular ideas of, 84, 85; real character and military ability, 85-87; understood by Washington, 87, 88; a real danger in 1788, 88; situation in the Northwest, 89; difficulties with Cherokees and Creeks, 89, 90; influence of Spanish intrigue, 90; successful treaty with Creeks, 90, 91; wisdom of this policy, 92; warfare in the Northwest, 92; defeats of Harmar and Hardin, 93; causes for the failure, 93, 94; intrigues of England, 92, 94, 175, 178; expedition and defeat of St. Clair, 95-97; results, 99; expedition of Wayne, 100, 102; his victory, 103; success of Washington's policy toward, 104, 105. 

 Iredell, James, appointed to Supreme Court, ii. 73. 

 JACKSON, MAJOR, accompanies Washington to opening of Congress, ii. 78. 

 Jameson, Colonel, forwards Andrews letter to Arnold, i. 284; receives orders from Washington, 285. 

 Jay, John, on opposition in Congress, to Washington, i. 222; consulted by Washington as to etiquette, ii. 54; appointed chief justice, 72; publishes card against Genet, 159; appointed on special mission to England, 177; his character, 177; instructions from Washington, 179; his reception in England, 180; difficulties in negotiating, 181; concludes treaty, 182; burnt in effigy while absent, 186; execrated after news of treaty, 187; hampered by Monroe in France, 213. 

 Jay treaty, ii. 180-184; opposition to and debate over signing, 184-201; reasons of Washington for signing, 205. 

 Jefferson, Thomas, his flight from Cornwallis, i. 307; discusses with Washington needs of government, ii. 9; adopts French democratic phraseology, 27; contrast with Washington, 27, 28, 69; criticises Washington's manners, 56; made secretary of state, 68; his previous relations with Washington, 68; his character, 69; supposed to be a friend of the Constitution, 72; his objections to President's opening Congress, 79; on weights and measures, 81; letter of Washington to on assumption of state debts, 107; makes bargain with Hamilton, 108; opposes a bank, 110; asked to prepare neutrality instructions, 146; upholds Genet, 153; argues against him publicly, supports him privately, 154; notified of French privateer Little Sarah, 155; allows it to sail, 155; retires to country and is censured by Washington, 156; assures Washington that vessel will wait his decision, 156; his un-American attitude, 157; wishes to make terms of note demanding Genet's recall mild, 158; argues that United States is bound by French treaty, 170, 171; begs Madison to answer Hamilton's "Camillus" letters, 206; his attitude upon first entering cabinet, 223; causes for his breach with Hamilton, 224; jealousy, incompatibility of temper, 224; his democratic opinions, 225; skill in creating party catch-words, 225; prints "Rights of Man" with note against Adams, 226; attacks him further in letter to Washington, 226; brings Freneau to Philadelphia and gives him an office, 227; denies any connection with Freneau's newspaper, 227; his real responsibility, 228; his purpose to undermine Hamilton, 228; causes his friends to attack him, 229; writes a letter to Washington attacking Hamilton's treasury measures, 229; fails to produce any effect, 230; winces under Hamilton's counter attacks, 230; reiterates charges and asserts devotion to Constitution, 231; continues attacks and resigns, 234; wishes reëlection of Washington, 235; his charge of British sympathies resented by Washington, 252; plain letter of Washington to, 259; Washington's opinion of, 259; suggests Logan's mission to France, 262, 265; takes oath as vice-president, 276; regarded as a Jacobin by Federalists, 294; jealous of Washington, 306; accuses him of senility, 307; a genuine American, 309. 

 Johnson, William, Tory leader in New York, i. 143. 

 Johnstone, Governor, peace commissioner, i. 233. 

 Jumonville, De, French leader, declared to have been assassinated by Washington, i. 74, 79; really a scout and spy, 75. 

 KENTUCKY RESOLUTIONS, condemned by Washington, ii. 266-268. 

 King, Clarence, his opinion that Washington was not American, ii. 308. 

 King, Rufus, publishes card exposing Genet, ii. 159. 

 King's Bridge, fight at, i. 170. 

 Kip's Landing, fight at, i. 168. 

 Kirkland, Rev. Samuel, negotiates with Six Nations, ii. 101. 

 Knox, Henry, brings artillery to Boston from Ticonderoga, i. 152; accompanies Washington to meet De Rochambeau, 283; at West Point, 285; sent by Washington to confer with governors of States, 295; urged by Washington to establish Western posts, ii. 7; letters of Washington to, 30, 39; made secretary of war, 65; his character, 65; a Federalist, 71; deals with Creeks, 91; urges decisive measure against Genet, 154, 155; letters of Washington to, 260; selected by Washington as third major-general, 286; given first place by Adams, 286; angry at Hamilton's higher rank, 288; refuses the office, 289; his offer to serve on Washington's staff refused, 289; Washington's affection for, 317, 362. 

 LAFAYETTE, Madame de, aided by Washington, ii. 366; letter of Washington to, 377. 

 Lafayette, Marquis de, Washington's regard for, i. 192; his opinion of Continental troops, 196; sent on fruitless journey to the lakes by cabal, 222, 253; encouraged by Washington, 225; narrowly escapes being cut off by Clinton, 233; appointed to attack British rear, 235; superseded by Lee, 235; urges Washington to come, 235; letter of Washington to, regarding quarrel between D'Estaing and Sullivan, 245; regard of Washington for, 249; desires to conquer Canada, 254; his plan not supported in France, 256; works to get a French army sent, 264; brings news of French army and fleet, 274; tries to get De Rochambeau to attack New York, 280; accompanies Washington to meet De Rochambeau, 283; told by Washington of Arnold's treachery, 285; on court to try André, 287; opinion of Continental soldiers, 293; harasses Cornwallis, 307; defeated at Green Springs, 307; watches Cornwallis at Yorktown, 308; reinforced by De Grasse, 312; persuades him to remain, 315; sends Washington French wolf-hounds, ii. 2; letters of Washington to, 23, 26, 118, 144, 165, 222, 261; his son not received by Washington, 253; later taken care of, 277, 281, 366; his worth, early seen by Washington, 334; Washington's affection for, 365; sends key of Bastile to Mt. Vernon, 365; helped by Washington, 365, 366. 

 Laurens, Henry, letter of Conway cabal to, making attack on Washington, i. 222; letters of Washington to, 254, 288; sent to Paris to get loans, 299. 

 Lauzun, Duc de, repulses Tarleton at Yorktown, i. 317. 

 Lear, Tobias, Washington's secretary, ii. 263; his account of Washington's last illness, 299-303, 385; letters to, 361, 382. 

 Lee, Arthur, example of Virginia gentleman educated abroad, i. 23. 

 Lee, Charles, visits Mt. Vernon, his character, i. 132; accompanies Washington to Boston, 136; aids Washington in organizing army, 140; disobeys orders and is captured, 175; objects to attacking Clinton, 234; first refuses, then claims command of van, 235; disobeys orders and retreats, 236; rebuked by Washington, 236, 237; court martial of and dismissal from army, 237; his witty remark on taking oath of allegiance, ii. 375. 

 Lee, Henry, marries Lucy Grymes, Washington's "Lowland Beauty, " i. 96. 

 Lee, Henry, son of Lucy Grymes, Washington's "Lowland Beauty, " i. 96; ii. 362; captures Paulus Hook, i. 269; letters of Washington to, ii. 23, 26, 149, 235, 239, 242, 252; considered for command against Indians, 100; commands troops to suppress Whiskey Rebellion, 127; Washington's affection for, 362. 

 Lee, Richard Henry, unfriendly to Washington, i. 214; letter of Washington to, ii. 160. 

 Lewis, Lawrence, at opening of Congress, ii. 78; takes social duties at Mt. Vernon, 280. 

 Liancourt, Duc de, refused reception by Washington, ii. 253. 

 Lincoln, Abraham, compared with Washington, i. 349; ii. 308-313. 

 Lincoln, Benjamin, sent by Washington against Burgoyne, i. 210; fails to understand Washington's policy and tries to hold Charleston, 273, 274; captured, 276; commissioner to treat with Creeks, ii. 90. 

 Lippencott, Captain, orders hanging of Huddy, i. 327; acquitted by English court martial, 328. 

 Little Sarah, the affair of, 155-157. 

 Livingston, Chancellor, administers oath at Washington's inauguration, ii. 46. 

 Livingston, Edward, moves call for papers relating to Jay treaty, ii. 207. 

 Logan, Dr. George, goes on volunteer mission to France, ii. 262; ridiculed by Federalists, publishes defense, 263; calls upon Washington, 263; mercilessly snubbed, 263-265. 

 Long Island, battle of, i. 164, 165. 

 London, Lord, disappoints Washington by his inefficiency, i. 91. 

 Lovell, James, follows the Adamses in opposing Washington, i. 214; wishes to supplant him by Gates, 215; writes hostile letters, 222. 

 MACKENZIE, CAPTAIN, letter of Washington to, i. 130. 

 Madison, James, begins to desire a stronger government, ii. 19, 29; letters of Washington to, 30, 39, 53; chosen for French mission, but does not go, 211. 

 Magaw, Colonel, betrayed at Fort Washington, i. 175. 

 "Magnolia, " Washington's pet colt, beaten in a race, i. 99, 113; ii. 381. 

 Marshall, John, Chief Justice, on special commission to France, ii. 284; tells anecdote of Washington's anger at cowardice, 392. 

 Maryland, the Washington family in, i. 36. 

 Mason, George, discusses political outlook with Washington, i. 119; letter of Washington to, 263; an opponent of the Constitution, ii. 71; friendship of Washington for, 362; debates with Washington the site of Pohick Church, 381. 

 Mason, S. T. , communicates Jay treaty to Bache, ii. 185. 

 Massey, Rev. Lee, rector of Pohick Church, i. 44. 

 Mathews, George, letter of Washington to, i. 294. 

 Matthews, Edward, makes raids in Virginia, i. 269. 

 Mawhood, General, defeated at Princeton, i. 182. 

 McGillivray, Alexander, chief of the Creeks, ii. 90; his journey to New York and interview with Washington, 91. 

 McHenry, James, at West Point, i. 284; letters to, 325, ii. 22, 278, 287, 384; becomes secretary of war, 246; advised by Washington not to appoint Democrats, 260, 261. 

 McKean, Thomas, given letters to Dr. Logan, ii. 265. 

 McMaster, John B. , calls Washington "an unknown man, " i. 7, ii. 304; calls him cold, 332, 352; and avaricious in small ways, 352. 

 Meade, Colonel Richard, Washington's opinion of, ii. 335. 

 Mercer, Hugh, killed at Princeton, i. 182. 

 Merlin, ----, president of Directory, interview with Dr. Logan, ii. 265. 

 Mifflin, Thomas, wishes to supplant Washington by Gates, i. 216; member of board of war, 221; put under Washington's orders, 226; replies to Washington's surrender of commission, 349; meets Washington on journey to inauguration, ii. 44; notified of the Little Sarah, French privateer, 154; orders its seizure, 155. 

 Militia, abandon Continental army, i. 167; cowardice of, 168; despised by Washington, 169; leave army again, 175; assist in defeat of Burgoyne, 211. 

 Mischianza, i. 232. 

 Monmouth, battle of, i. 235-239. 

 Monroe, James, appointed minister to France, ii. 211; his character, 212; intrigues against Hamilton, 212; effusively received in Paris, 212; acts foolishly, 213; tries to interfere with Jay, 213; upheld, then condemned and recalled by Washington, 213, 214; writes a vindication, 215; Washington's opinion of him, 215, 216; his selection one of Washington's few mistakes, 334. 

 Montgomery, General Richard, sent by Washington to invade Canada, i. 143. 

 Morgan, Daniel, sent against Burgoyne by Washington, i. 208; at Saratoga, 210; wins battle of Cowpens, joins Greene, 301. 

 Morris, Gouverneur, letters of Washington to, i. 248, 263; efforts towards financial reform, 264; quotes speech of Washington at Federal convention in his eulogy, ii. 31; discussion as to his value as an authority, 32, note; goes to England on unofficial mission, 137; balked by English insolence, 137; comprehends French Revolution, 139; letters of Washington to, on the Revolution, 140, 142, 145; recall demanded by France, 211; letter of Washington to, 217, 240, 254; Washington's friendship for, 363. 

 Morris, Robert, letter of Washington to, i. 187; helps Washington to pay troops, 259; efforts towards financial reform, 264; difficulty in helping Washington in 1781, 309, 312; considered for secretary of treasury, ii. 66; his bank policy approved by Washington, 110; Washington's friendship for, 363. 

 Moustier, demands private access to Washington, ii. 59; refused, 59, 60. 

 Murray, Vans, minister in Holland, interview with Dr. Logan, ii. 264; nominated for French mission by Adams, 292; written to by Washington, 292. 

 Muse, Adjutant, trains Washington in tactics and art of war, i. 65. 

 NAPOLEON, orders public mourning for Washington's death, i. 1. 

 Nelson, General, letter of Washington to, i. 257. 

 Newburgh, addresses, ii. 335. 

 New England, character of people, i. 138; attitude toward Washington, 138, 139; troops disliked by Washington, 152; later praised by him, 152, 317, 344; threatened by Burgoyne's invasion, 204; its delegates in Congress demand appointment of Gates, 208; and oppose Washington, 214; welcomes Washington on tour as President, ii. 74; more democratic than other colonies before Revolution, 315; disliked by Washington for this reason, 316. 

 Newenham, Sir Edward, letter of Washington to on American foreign policy, ii. 133. 

 New York, Washington's first visit to, i. 99, 100; defense of, in Revolution, 159-169; abandoned by Washington, 169; Howe establishes himself in, 177; reoccupied by Clinton, 264; Washington's journey to, ii. 44; inauguration in, 46; rioting in, against Jay treaty, 187. 

 Nicholas, John, letter of Washington to, ii. 259. 

 Nicola, Col. , urges Washington to establish a despotism, i. 337. 

 Noailles, Vicomte de, French émigré, referred to State Department, ii. 151, 253. 

 O'FLINN, CAPTAIN, Washington's friendship with, ii. 318. 

 Organization of the national government, absence of materials to work with, ii. 51; debate over title of President, 52; over his communications with Senate, 53; over presidential etiquette, 53-56; appointment of officials to cabinet offices established by Congress, 64-71; appointment of supreme court judges, 72. 

 Orme, ----, letter of Washington to, i. 84. 

 PAINE, THOMAS, his "Rights of Man" reprinted by Jefferson, ii. 226. 

 Parkinson, Richard, says Washington was harsh to slaves, i. 105; contradicts statement elsewhere, 106; tells stories of Washington's pecuniary exactness, ii. 353, 354, 382; his character, 355; his high opinion of Washington, 356. 

 Parton, James, considers Washington as good but commonplace, ii. 330, 374. 

 Peachey, Captain, letter of Washington to, i. 92. 

 Pendleton, Edmund, Virginia delegate to Continental Congress, i. 128. 

 Pennsylvania, refuses to fight the French, i. 72, 83; fails to help Washington, 225; remonstrates against his going into winter quarters, 229; condemned by Washington, 229; compromises with mutineers, 292. 

 Philipse, Mary, brief love-affair of Washington with, i. 99, 100. 

 Phillips, General, commands British troops in Virginia, i. 303; death of, 303. 

 Pickering, Colonel, quiets Six Nations, ii. 94. 

 Pickering, Timothy, letter of Washington to, on French Revolution, ii. 140; on failure of Spanish negotiations, 166; recalls Washington to Philadelphia to receive Fauchet letter, 195; succeeds Randolph, 246; letters of Washington to, on party government, 247; appeals to Washington against Adams's reversal of Hamilton's rank, 286; letters of Washington to, 292, 324; criticises Washington as a commonplace person, 307. 

 Pinckney, Charles C. , letter of Washington to, ii. 90; appointed to succeed Monroe as minister to France, 214; refused reception, 284; sent on special commission, 284; named by Washington as general, 286; accepts without complaint of Hamilton's higher rank, 290; Washington's friendship with, 363. 

 Pinckney, Thomas, sent on special mission to Spain, ii. 166; unsuccessful at first, 166; succeeds in making a good treaty, 167; credit of his exploit, 168; letter of Washington to, 325. 

 Pitt, William, his conduct of French war, i. 93, 94. 

 Princeton, battle of, i. 181-3. 

 Privateers, sent out by Washington, i. 150. 

 "Protection" favored in the first Congress, ii. 113-115; arguments of Hamilton for, 114, 115; of Washington, 116-122. 

 Provincialism, of Americans, i. 193; with regard to foreign officers, 193, 234, 250-252; with regard to foreign politics, ii. 131, 132, 163, 237, 255. 

 Putnam, Israel, escapes with difficulty from New York, i. 169; fails to help Washington at Trenton, 180; warned to defend the Hudson, 195; tells Washington of Burgoyne's surrender, 211; rebuked by Washington, 217; amuses Washington, ii. 374. 

 RAHL, COLONEL, defeated and killed at Trenton, i. 181. 

 Randolph, Edmund, letter of Washington to, ii. 30, 39; relations with Washington, 64; appointed attorney-general, 64; his character, 64, 65; a friend of the Constitution, 71; opposes a bank, 110; letter of Washington to, on protective bounties, 118; drafts neutrality proclamation, 147; vacillates with regard to Genet, 154; argues that United States is bound by French alliance, 170; succeeds Jefferson as secretary of state, 184; directed to prepare a remonstrance against English "provision order, " 185; opposed to Jay treaty, 188; letter of Washington to, on conditional ratification, 189, 191, 192, 194; guilty, apparently, from Fauchet letter, of corrupt practices, 196; his position not a cause for Washington's signing treaty, 196-200; receives Fauchet letter, resigns, 201; his personal honesty, 201; his discreditable carelessness, 202; fairly treated by Washington, 203, 204; his complaints against Washington, 203; letter of Washington to, concerning Monroe, 213; at first a Federalist, 246. 

 Randolph, John, on early disappearance of Virginia colonial society, i. 15. 

 Rawdon, Lord, commands British forces in South, too distant to help Cornwallis, i. 304. 

 Reed, Joseph, letters of Washington to, i. 151, 260. 

 Revolution, War of, foreseen by Washington, i. 120, 122; Lexington and Concord, 133; Bunker Hill, 136; siege of Boston, 137-154; organization of army, 139-142; operations in New York, 143; invasion of Canada, 143, 144; question as to treatment of prisoners, 145-148; causes of British defeat, 154, 155; campaign near New York, 161-177; causes for attempted defense of Brooklyn, 163, 164; battle of Long Island, 164-165; escape of Americans, 166; affair at Kip's Bay, 168; at King's Bridge, 170; at Frog's Point, 173; battle of White Plains, 173; at Chatterton Hill, 174; capture of Forts Washington and Lee, 174, 175; pursuit of Washington into New Jersey, 175-177; retirement of Howe to New York, 177; battle of Trenton, 180, 181; campaign of Princeton, 181-183; its brilliancy, 183; Philadelphia campaign, 194-202; British march across New Jersey prevented by Washington, 194; sea voyage to Delaware, 195; battle of the Brandywine, 196-198; causes for defeat, 198; defeat of Wayne, 198; Philadelphia taken by Howe, 199; battle of Germantown, 199; its significance, 200, 201; Burgoyne's invasion, 203-211; Washington's preparations for, 204-206; Howe's error in neglecting to cooperate, 205; capture of Ticonderoga, 207; battles of Bennington, Oriskany, Fort Schuyler, 210; battle of Saratoga, 211; British repulse at Fort Mercer, 217; destruction of the forts, 217; fruitless skirmishing before Philadelphia, 218; Valley Forge, 228-232; evacuation of Philadelphia, 234; battle of Monmouth, 235-239; its effect, 239; cruise and failure of D'Estaing at Newport, 243, 244; failure of D'Estaing at Savannah, 247, 248; storming of Stony Point, 268, 269; Tory raids near New York, 269; standstill in 1780, 272; siege and capture of Charleston, 273, 274, 276; operations of French and Americans near Newport, 277, 278; battle of Camden, 281; treason of Arnold, 281-289; battle of Cowpens, 301; retreat of Greene before Cornwallis, 302; battle of Guilford Court House, 302; successful operations of Greene, 302, 303; Southern campaign planned by Washington, 304-311; feints against Clinton, 306; operations of Cornwallis and Lafayette in Virginia, 307; naval supremacy secured by Washington, 310, 311; battle of De Grasse and Graves off Chesapeake, 312; transport of American army to Virginia, 311-313; siege and capture of Yorktown, 315-318; masterly character of campaign, 318-320; petty operations before New York, 326; treaty of peace, 342. 

 Rives, on Washington's doubts of constitutionality of Bank, ii. 110. 

 Robinson, Beverly, speaker of Virginia House of Burgesses, his compliment to Washington, i. 102. 

 Robinson, Colonel, loyalist, i. 282. 

 Rumsey, James, the inventor, asks Washington's consideration of his steamboat, ii. 4. 

 Rush, Benjamin, describes Washington's impressiveness, ii. 389. 

 Rutledge, John, letter of Washington to, i. 281; nomination rejected by Senate, ii. 63; nominated to Supreme Court, 73. 

 ST. CLAIR, Arthur, removed after loss of Ticonderoga, i. 208; appointed to command against Indians, ii. 94; receives instructions and begins expedition, 95; defeated, 96; his character, 99; fair treatment by Washington, 99; popular execration of, 105. 

 St. Pierre, M. De, French governor in Ohio, i. 67. 

 St. Simon, Count, reinforces Lafayette, i. 312. 

 Sandwich, Lord, calls all Yankees cowards, i. 155. 

 Saratoga, anecdote concerning, i. 202. 

 Savage, Edward, characteristics of his portrait of Washington, i. 13. 

 Savannah, siege of, i. 247. 

 Scammel, Colonel, amuses Washington, ii. 374. 

 Schuyler, Philip, accompanies Washington to Boston, i. 136; appointed military head in New York, 136; directed by Washington how to meet Burgoyne, 204; fails to carry out directions, 207; removed, 208; value of his preparations, 209. 

 Scott, Charles, commands expedition against Indians, ii. 95. 

 Sea-power, its necessity seen by Washington, i. 283, 303, 304, 306, 310, 318, 319. 

 Sectional feeling, deplored by Washington, ii. 222. 

 Sharpe, Governor, offers Washington a company, i. 80; Washington's reply to, 81. 

 Shays's Rebellion, comments of Washington and Jefferson upon, ii. 26, 27. 

 Sherman, Roger, makes sarcastic remark about Wilkinson, i. 220. 

 Shirley, Governor William, adjusts matter of Washington's rank, i. 91, 97. 

 Short, William, minister to Holland, on commission regarding opening of Mississippi, ii. 166. 

 Six Nations, make satisfactory treaties, ii. 88; stirred up by English, 94; but pacified, 94, 101. 

 Slavery, in Virginia, i. 20; its evil effects, 104; Washington's attitude toward slaves, 105; his condemnation of the system, 106, 107; gradual emancipation favored, 107, 108. 

 Smith, Colonel, letter of Washington to, ii. 340. 

 Spain, instigates Indians to hostilities, ii. 89, 94, 101; blocks Mississippi, 135; makes treaty with Pinckney opening Mississippi, 167, 168; angered at Jay treaty, 210. 

 Sparks, Jared, his alterations of Washington's letters, ii. 337, 338. 

 Spotswood, Alexander, asks Washington's opinion of Alien and Sedition Acts, ii. 297. 

 Stamp Act, Washington's opinion of, i. 119, 120. 

 Stark, General, leads attack at Trenton, i. 181. 

 States, in the Revolutionary war, appeals of Washington to, i. 142, 186, 204, 259, 277, 295, 306, 323, 324, 326, 344; issue paper money, 258; grow tired of the war, 290; alarmed by mutinies, 294; try to appease soldiers, 295, 296; their selfishness condemned by Washington, 333; ii. 21, 23; thwart Indian policy of Congress, 88. 

 Stephen, Adam, late in attacking at Germantown, i. 199. 

 Steuben, Baron, Washington's appreciation of, i. 192, 249; drills the army at Valley Forge, 232; annoys Washington by wishing higher command, 249; sent on mission to demand surrender of Western posts, 343; his worth recognized by Washington, ii. 334. 

 Stirling, Lord, defeated and captured at Long Island, i. 165. 

 Stockton, Mrs. , letter of Washington to, ii. 349. 

 Stone, General, tells stories of Washington's closeness, ii. 353, 354. 

 Stuart, David, letters of Washington to, ii. 107, 221, 222, 258. 

 Stuart, Gilbert, his portrait of Washington contrasted with Savage's, i. 13. 

 Sullivan, John, General, surprised at Long Island, i. 165; attacks at Trenton, 180; surprised and crushed at Brandywine, 197, 198; unites with D'Estaing to attack Newport, 243; angry at D'Estaing's desertion, 244; soothed by Washington, 244; sent against Indians, 266, 269. 

 Supreme Court, appointed by Washington, ii. 72. 

 TAFT, ----, kindness of Washington toward, ii. 367. 

 Talleyrand, eulogistic report to Napoleon on death of Washington, i. 1, note; remark on Hamilton, ii. 139; refused reception by Washington, 253. 

 Tarleton, Sir Banastre, tries to escape at Yorktown, i. 317. 

 Thatcher, Dr. , on Washington's appearance when taking command of army, i. 137. 

 Thomson, Charles, complimented by Washington on retiring from secretary-ship of Continental Congress, ii. 350. 

 Tories, hated by Washington, i. 156; his reasons, 157; active in New York, 158; suppressed by Washington, 159; in Philadelphia, impressed by Continental army, 196; make raids on frontier, 266; strong in Southern States, 267; raids under Tryon, 269. 

 Trent, Captain, his incompetence in dealing with Indians and French, i. 72. 

 Trenton, campaign of, i. 180-183. 

 Trumbull, Governor, letter of Washington to, refusing to stand for a third term, ii. 269-271; other letters, 298. 

 Trumbull, John, on New England army before Boston, i. 139. 

 Trumbull, Jonathan, his message on better government praised by Washington, ii. 21; letters to, 42; Washington's friendship for, 363. 

 Tryon, Governor, Tory leader in New York, i. 143; his intrigues stopped by Washington, 158, 159; conspires to murder Washington, 160; makes raids in Connecticut, 269. 

 VALLEY FORGE, Continental Army at, i. 228-232. 

 Van Braam, Jacob, friend of Lawrence Washington, trains George in fencing, i. 65; accompanies him on mission to French, 66. 

 Vergennes, requests release of Asgill, i. 329, 330; letter of Washington to, 330; proposes to submit disposition of a subsidy to Washington, 332. 

 Virginia, society in, before the Revolution, i. 15-29; its entire change since then, 15, 16; population, distribution, and numbers, 17, 18; absence of towns, 18; and town life, 19; trade and travel in, 19; social classes, 20-24; slaves and poor whites, 20; clergy, 21; planters and their estates, 22; their life, 22; education, 23; habits of governing, 24; luxury and extravagance, 25; apparent wealth, 26; agreeableness of life, 27; aristocratic ideals, 28; vigor of stock, 29; unwilling to fight French, 71; quarrels with Dinwiddie, 71; thanks Washington after his French campaign, 79; terrified at Braddock's defeat, 88; gives Washington command, 89; fails to support him, 89, 90, 93; bad economic conditions in, 104, 105; local government in, 117; condemns Stamp Act, 119; adopts non-importation, 121; condemns Boston Port Bill, 123; asks opinion of counties, 124; chooses delegates to a congress, 127; prepares for war, 132; British campaign in, 307, 315-318; ratifies Constitution, ii. 40; evil effect of free trade upon, 116, 117; nullification resolutions, 266; strength of its aristocracy, 315. 

 WADE, COLONEL, in command at West Point after Arnold's flight, i. 285. 

 Walker, Benjamin, letter of Washington to, ii. 257. 

 Warren, James, letters of Washington to, i. 262, ii. 118. 

 Washington, ancestry, i. 30-40; early genealogical researches concerning, 30-32; pedigree finally established, 32; origin of family, 33; various members during middle ages, 34; on royalist side in English civil war, 34, 36; character of family, 35; emigration to Virginia, 35, 36; career of Washingtons in Maryland, 37; in Virginia history, 38; their estates, 39. 

 Washington, Augustine, father of George Washington, birth, i. 35; death, 39; character, 39; his estate, 41; ridiculous part played by in Weems's anecdotes, 44, 47. 

 Washington, Augustine, half brother of George Washington, keeps him after his father's death, i. 48. 

 Washington, Bushrod, refused appointment as attorney by Washington, ii. 62; educated by him, 370. 

 Washington, George, honors to his memory in France, i. 1; in England, 2; grief in America, 3, 4; general admission of his greatness, 4; its significance, 5, 6; tributes from England, 6; from other countries, 6, 7; yet an "unknown" man, 7; minuteness of knowledge concerning, 8; has become subject of myths, 9; development of the Weems myth about, 10, 11; necessity of a new treatment of, 12; significant difference of real and ideal portraits of, 13; his silence regarding himself, 14; underlying traits, 14. 

 _Early Life_. Ancestry, 30-41; birth, 39; origin of Weems's anecdotes about, 41-44; their absurdity and evil results, 45-48; early schooling, 48; plan to send him to sea, 49, 50; studies to be a surveyor, 51; his rules of behavior, 52; his family connections with Fairfaxes, 54, 55; his friendship with Lord Fairfax, 56; surveys Fairfax's estate, 57, 58, 59; made public surveyor, 60; his life at the time, 60, 61; influenced by Fairfax's cultivation, 62; goes to West Indies with his brother, 62; has the small-pox, 63; observations on the voyage, 63, 64; returns to Virginia, 64; becomes guardian of his brother's daughter, 64. 

 _Service against the French and Indians_. Receives military training, 65; a military appointment, 66; goes on expedition to treat with French, 66; meets Indians, 67; deals with French, 67; dangers of journey, 68; his impersonal account, 69, 70; appointed to command force against French, 71, 72; his anger at neglect of Virginia Assembly, 73; attacks and defeats force of Jumonville, 74; called murderer by the French, 74; surrounded by French at Great Meadows, 76; surrenders, 76; recklessness of his expedition, 77, 78; effect of experience upon, 79; gains a European notoriety, 79; thanked by Virginia, 79; protests against Dinwiddie's organization of soldiers, 80; refuses to serve when ranked by British officers, 81; accepts position on Braddock's staff, 82; his treatment there, 82; advises Braddock, 84; rebuked for warning against surprise, 85; his bravery in the battle, 86; conducts retreat, 86, 87; effect of experience on him, 87; declines to solicit command of Virginia troops, 88; accepts it when offered, 88; his difficulties with Assembly, 89; and with troops, 90; settles question of rank, 91; writes freely in criticism of government, 91, 92; retires for rest to Mt. Vernon, 93; offers services to General Forbes, 93; irritated at slowness of English, 93, 94; his love affairs, 95, 96; journey to Boston, 97-101; at festivities in New York and Philadelphia, 99; meets Martha Custis, 101; his wedding, 101, 102; elected to House of Burgesses, 102; confused at being thanked by Assembly, 102; his local position, 103; tries to farm his estate, 104; his management of slaves, 105, 106, 108, 109; cares for interests of old soldiers, 109; rebukes a coward, 110; cares for education of stepson, 111; his furnishing of house, 112; hunting habits, 113-115; punishes a poacher, 116; participates in colonial and local government, 117; enters into society, 117, 118. 

 _Congressional delegate from Virginia_. His influence in Assembly, 119; discusses Stamp Act with Mason, 119; foresees result to be independence, 119; rejoices at its repeal, but notes Declaratory Act, 120; ready to use force to defend colonial rights, 120; presents non-importation resolutions to Burgesses, 121; abstains from English products, 121; notes ominous movements among Indians, 122; on good terms with royal governors, 122, 123; observes fast on account of Boston Port Bill, 123; has controversy with Bryan Fairfax over Parliamentary policy, 124, 125, 126; presides at Fairfax County meeting, 126; declares himself ready for action, 126; at convention of counties, offers to march to relief of Boston, 127; elected to Continental Congress, 127; his journey, 128; silent in Congress, 129; writes to a British officer that independence is not desired, but war is certain, 130, 131; returns to Virginia, 132; aids in military preparations, 132; his opinion after Concord, 133; at second Continental Congress, wears uniform, 134; made commander-in-chief, 134; his modesty and courage in accepting position, 134, 135; political motives for his choice, 135; his popularity, 136; his journey to Boston, 136, 137; receives news of Bunker Hill, 136; is received by Massachusetts Provincial Assembly, 137. 

 _Commander of the Army_. Takes command at Cambridge, 137; his impression upon people, 137, 138, 139; begins reorganization of army, 139; secures number of troops, 140; enforces discipline, his difficulties, 140, 141; forced to lead Congress, 142; to arrange rank of officers, 142; organizes privateers, 142; discovers lack of powder, 143; plans campaigns in Canada and elsewhere, 143, 144; his plans of attack on Boston overruled by council of war, 144; writes to Gage urging that captives be treated as prisoners of war, 145; skill of his letter, 146; retorts to Gage's reply, 147; continues dispute with Howe, 148; annoyed by insufficiency of provisions, 149; and by desertions, 149; stops quarrel between Virginia and Marblehead soldiers, 149; suggests admiralty committees, 150; annoyed by army contractors, 150; and criticism, 151; letter to Joseph Reed, 151; occupies Dorchester Heights, 152; begins to like New England men better, 152; rejoices at prospect of a fight, 153; departure of British due to his leadership, 154; sends troops immediately to New York, 155; enters Boston, 156; expects a hard war, 156; urges upon Congress the necessity of preparing for a long struggle, 156; his growing hatred of Tories, 156, 157; goes to New York, 157, 158; difficulties of the situation, 158; suppresses Tories, 159; urges Congress to declare independence, 159, 160; discovers and punishes a conspiracy to assassinate, 160; insists on his title in correspondence with Howe, 161; justice of his position, 162; quiets sectional jealousies in army, 162; his military inferiority to British, 163; obliged by political considerations to attempt defense of New York, 163, 164; assumes command on Long Island, 164; sees defeat of his troops, 165; sees plan of British fleet to cut off retreat, 166; secures retreat of army, 167; explains his policy of avoiding a pitched battle, 167; anger at flight of militia at Kip's Bay, 168; again secures safe retreat, 169; secures slight advantage in a skirmish, 170; continues to urge Congress to action, 170, 171; success of his letters in securing a permanent army, 171; surprised by advance of British fleet, 172; moves to White Plains, 173; blocks British advance, 174; advises abandonment of American forts, 174; blames himself for their capture, 175; leads diminishing army through New Jersey, 175; makes vain appeals for aid, 176; resolves to take the offensive, 177; desperateness of his situation, 178; pledges his estate and private fortune to raise men, 179; orders disregarded by officers, 180; crosses Delaware and captures Hessians, 180, 181; has difficulty in retaining soldiers, 181; repulses Cornwallis at Assunpink, 181; outwits Cornwallis and wins battle at Princeton, 182; excellence of his strategy, 183; effect of this campaign in saving Revolution, 183, 184; withdraws to Morristown, 185; fluctuations in size of army, 186; his determination to keep the field, 186, 187; criticised by Congress for not fighting, 187; hampered by Congressional interference, 188; issues proclamation requiring oath of allegiance, 188; attacked in Congress for so doing, 189; annoyed by Congressional alterations of rank, 189; and by foreign military adventurers, 191; value of his services in suppressing them, 192; his American feelings, 191, 193; warns Congress in vain that Howe means to attack Philadelphia, 193; baffles Howe's advance across New Jersey, 195; learning of his sailing, marches to defend Philadelphia, 195; offers battle at Brandywine, 196, 197; out-generaled and beaten, 197; rallies army and prepares to fight again, 198; prevented by storm, 199; attacks British at Germantown, 199; defeated, 200; exposes himself in battle, 200; real success of his action, 201; despised by English, 202; foresees danger of Burgoyne's invasion, 203; sends instructions to Schuyler, 204; urges use of New England and New York militia, 304; dreads northern advance of Howe, 205; determines to hold him at all hazards, 206, 207; not cast down by loss of Ticonderoga, 207; urges New England to rise, 208; sends all possible troops, 208; refuses to appoint a commander for Northern army, 208; his probable reasons, 209; continues to send suggestions, 210; slighted by Gates after Burgoyne's surrender, 211; rise of opposition in Congress, 212; arouses ill-feeling by his frankness, 212, 213; distrusted by Samuel and John Adams, 214; by others, 214, 215; formation of a plan to supplant him by Gates, 215; opposed by Gates, Mifflin, and Conway, 215, 216; angers Conway by preventing his increase in rank, 216; is refused troops by Gates, 217; defends and loses Delaware forts, 217; refuses to attack Howe, 218; propriety of his action, 219; becomes aware of cabal, 220; alarms them by showing extent of his knowledge, 221; attacked bitterly in Congress, 222; insulted by Gates, 223; refuses to resign, 224; refuses to notice cabal publicly, 224; complains privately of slight support from Pennsylvania, 225; continues to push Gates for explanations, 226; regains complete control after collapse of cabal, 226, 227; withdraws to Valley Forge, 227; desperation of his situation, 228; criticised by Pennsylvania legislature for going into winter quarters, 229; his bitter reply, 229; his unbending resolution, 230; continues to urge improvements in army organization, 231; manages to hold army together, 232; sends Lafayette to watch Philadelphia, 233; determines to fight, 234; checked by Lee, 234; pursues Clinton, 235; orders Lee to attack British rearguard, 235; discovers his force retreating, 236; rebukes Lee and punishes him, 236, 237; takes command and stops retreat, 237; repulses British and assumes offensive, 238; success due to his work at Valley Forge, 239; celebrates French alliance, 241; has to confront difficulty of managing allies, 241, 242; welcomes D'Estaing, 243; obliged to quiet recrimination after Newport failure, 244; his letter to Sullivan, 244; to Lafayette, 245; to D'Estaing, 246; tact and good effect of his letters, 246; offers to cooperate in an attack on New York, 247; furnishes admirable suggestions to D'Estaing, 247; not dazzled by French, 248; objects to giving rank to foreign officers, 248, 249; opposes transfer of Steuben from inspectorship to the line, 249; his thoroughly American position, 250; absence of provinciality, 251, 252; a national leader, 252; opposes invasion of Canada, 253; foresees danger of its recapture by France, 254, 255; his clear understanding of French motives, 255, 256; rejoices in condition of patriot cause, 257; foresees ruin to army in financial troubles, 258; has to appease mutinies among unpaid troops, 258; appeals to Congress, 259; urges election of better delegates to Congress, 259; angry with speculators, 260, 261; futility of his efforts, 261, 262; his increasing alarm at social demoralization, 263; effect of his exertions, 264; conceals his doubts of the French, 264; watches New York, 264; keeps dreading an English campaign, 265; labors with Congress to form a navy, 266; plans expedition to chastise Indians, 266; realizes that things are at a standstill in the North, 267; sees danger to lie in the South, but determines to remain himself near New York, 267; not consulted by Congress in naming general for Southern army, 268; plans attack on Stony Point, 268; hatred of ravaging methods of British warfare, 270; again has great difficulties in winter quarters, 270; unable to act on offensive in the spring, 270, 272; unable to help South, 272; advises abandonment of Charleston, 273; learns of arrival of French army, 274; plans a number of enterprises with it, 275, 276; refuses, even after loss of Charleston, to abandon Hudson, 276; welcomes Rochambeau, 277; writes to Congress against too optimistic feelings, 278, 279; has extreme difficulty in holding army together, 280; urges French to attack New York, 280; sends Maryland troops South after Camden, 281; arranges meeting with Rochambeau at Hartford, 282; popular enthusiasm over him, 283; goes to West Point, 284; surprised at Arnold's absence, 284; learns of his treachery, 284, 285; his cool behavior, 285; his real feelings, 286; his conduct toward André, 287; its justice, 287, 288; his opinion of Arnold, 288, 289; his responsibility in the general breakdown of the Congress and army, 290; obliged to quell food mutinies in army, 291, 292; difficulty of situation, 292; his influence the salvation of army, 293; his greatness best shown in this way, 293; rebukes Congress, 294; appoints Greene to command Southern army, 295; sends Knox to confer with state governors, 296; secures temporary relief for army, 296; sees the real defect is in weak government, 296; urges adoption of Articles of Confederation, 297; works for improvements in executive, 298, 299; still keeps a Southern movement in mind, 301; unable to do anything through lack of naval power, 303; rebukes Lund Washington for entertaining British at Mt. Vernon, 303; still unable to fight, 304; tries to frighten Clinton into remaining in New York, 305; succeeds with aid of Rochambeau, 306; explains his plan to French and to Congress, 306; learns of De Grasse's approach, prepares to move South, 306; writes to De Grasse to meet him in Chesapeake, 308; fears a premature peace, 308; pecuniary difficulties, 309; absolute need of command of sea, 310; persuades De Barras to join De Grasse, 311; starts on march for Chesapeake, 311; hampered by lack of supplies, 312; and by threat of Congress to reduce army, 313; passes through Mt. Vernon, 314; succeeds in persuading De Grasse not to abandon him, 315; besieges Cornwallis, 315; sees capture of redoubts, 316; receives surrender of Cornwallis, 317; admirable strategy and management of campaign, 318; his personal influence the cause of success, 318; especially his use of the fleet, 319; his management of Cornwallis through Lafayette, 319; his boldness in transferring army away from New York, 320; does not lose his head over victory, 321; urges De Grasse to repeat success against Charleston, 322; returns north, 322; saddened by death of Custis, 322; continues to urge Congress to action, 323; writes letters to the States, 323; does not expect English surrender, 324; urges renewed vigor, 324; points out that war actually continues, 325; urges not to give up army until peace is actually secured, 325; failure of his appeals, 326; reduced to inactivity, 326; angered at murder of Huddy, 327; threatens Carleton with retaliation, 328; releases Asgill at request of Vergennes and order of Congress, 329, 330; disclaims credit, 330; justification of his behavior, 330; his tenderness toward the soldiers, 331; jealousy of Congress toward him, 332; warns Congress of danger of further neglect of army, 333, 334; takes control of mutinous movement, 335; his address to the soldiers, 336; its effect, 336; movement among soldiers to make him dictator, 337; replies to revolutionary proposals, 337; reality of the danger, 339; causes for his behaviour, 340, 341; a friend of strong government, but devoid of personal ambition, 342; chafes under delay to disband army, 343; tries to secure Western posts, 343; makes a journey through New York, 343; gives Congress excellent but futile advice, 344; issues circular letter to governors, 344; and farewell address to army, 345; enters New York after departure of British, 345; his farewell to his officers, 345; adjusts his accounts, 346; appears before Congress, 347; French account of his action, 347; makes speech resigning commission, 348, 349. 

 _In Retirement_. Returns to Mt. Vernon, ii. I; tries to resume old life, 2; gives up hunting, 2; pursued by lion-hunters and artists, 3; overwhelmed with correspondence, 3; receives letters from Europe, 4; from cranks, 4; from officers, 4; his share in Society of Cincinnati, 4; manages his estate, 5; visits Western lands, 5; family cares, 5, 6; continues to have interest in public affairs, 6; advises Congress regarding peace establishment, 6; urges acquisition of Western posts, 7; his broad national views, 7; alone in realizing future greatness of country, 7, 8; appreciates importance of the West, 8; urges development of inland navigation, 9; asks Jefferson's aid, 9, 10; lays canal scheme before Virginia legislature, 10; his arguments, 10; troubled by offer of stock, 11; uses it to endow two schools, 12; significance of his scheme, 12, 13; his political purposes in binding West to East, 13; willing to leave Mississippi closed for this purpose, 14, 15, 16; feels need of firmer union during Revolution, 17; his arguments, 18, 19; his influence starts movement for reform, 20; continues to urge it during retirement, 21; foresees disasters of confederation, 21; urges impost scheme, 22; condemns action of States, 22, 23, 25; favours commercial agreement between Maryland and Virginia, 23; stung by contempt of foreign powers, 24; his arguments for a national government, 24; points out designs of England, 25; works against paper money craze in States, 26; his opinion of Shays's rebellion, 26; his position contrasted with Jefferson's, 27; influence of his letters, 28, 29; shrinks from participating in Federal convention, 29; elected unanimously, 30; refuses to go to a feeble convention, 30, 31; finally makes up his mind, 31. 

 _In the Federal Convention_. Speech attributed to Washington by Morris on duties of delegates, 31, 32; chosen to preside, 33; takes no part in debate, 34; his influence in convention, 34, 35; despairs of success, 35; signs the Constitution, 36; words attributed to him, 36; silent as to his thoughts, 36, 37; sees clearly danger of failure to ratify, 37; tries at first to act indifferently, 38; begins to work for ratification, 38; writes letters to various people, 38, 39; circulates copies of "Federalist, " 40; saves ratification in Virginia, 40; urges election of Federalists to Congress, 41; receives general request to accept presidency, 41; his objections, 41, 42; dreads failure and responsibility, 42; elected, 42; his journey to New York, 42-46; speech at Alexandria, 43; popular reception at all points, 44, 45; his feelings, 46; his inauguration, 46. 

 _President_. His speech to Congress, 48; urges no specific policy, 48, 49; his solemn feelings, 49; his sober view of necessities of situation, 50; question of his title, 52; arranges to communicate with Senate by writing, 52, 53; discusses social etiquette, 53; takes middle ground, 54; wisdom of his action, 55; criticisms by Democrats, 55, 56; accused of monarchical leanings, 56, 57; familiarizes himself with work already accomplished under Confederation, 58; his business habits, 58; refuses special privileges to French minister, 59, 60; skill of his reply, 60, 61; solicited for office, 61; his views on appointment, 62; favors friends of Constitution and old soldiers, 62; success of his appointments, 63; selects a cabinet, 64; his regard for Knox 65; for Morris, 66; his skill in choosing, 66; his appreciation of Hamilton, 67; his grounds for choosing Jefferson, 68; his contrast with Jefferson, 69; his choice a mistake in policy, 70; his partisan characteristics, 70, 71; excludes anti-Federalists, 71; nominates justices of Supreme Court, 72; their party character, 73; illness, 73; visits the Eastern States, 73; his reasons, 74; stirs popular enthusiasm, 74; snubbed by Hancock in Massachusetts, 75; accepts Hancock's apology, 75; importance of his action, 76; success of journey, 76; opens Congress, 78, 79; his speech and its recommendations, 81; how far carried out, 81-83; national character of the speech, 83; his fitness to deal with Indians, 87; his policy, 88; appoints commission to treat with Creeks, 90; ascribes its failure to Spanish intrigue, 90; succeeds by a personal interview in making treaty, 91; wisdom of his policy, 92; orders an expedition against Western Indians, 93; angered at its failure, 94; and at conduct of frontiersmen, 94; prepares St. Clair's expedition, 95; warns against ambush, 95; hopes for decisive results, 97; learns of St. Clair's defeat, 97; his self-control, 97; his outburst of anger against St. Clair, 97, 98; masters his feelings, 98; treats St. Clair kindly, 99; determines on a second campaign, 100; selects Wayne and other officers, 100; tries to secure peace with tribes, 101; efforts prevented by English influence, 101, 102; and in South by conduct of Georgia, 103; general results of his Indian policy, 104; popular misunderstandings and criticism, 104, 105; favors assumption of state debts by the government, 107, 108; satisfied with bargain between Hamilton and Jefferson, 108; his respectful attitude toward Constitution, 109; asks opinions of cabinet on constitutionality of bank, 110; signs bill creating it, 110; reasons for his decision, 111; supports Hamilton's financial policy, 112; supports Hamilton's views on protection, 115, 116; appreciates evil economic condition of Virginia, 116, 117; sees necessity for self-sufficient industries in war time, 117; urges protection, 118, 119, 120; his purpose to build up national feeling, 121; approves national excise tax, 122, 123; does not realize unpopularity of method, 123; ready to modify but insists on obedience, 124, 125; issues proclamation against rioters, 125; since Pennsylvania frontier continues rebellious, issues second proclamation threatening to use force, 127; calls out the militia, 127; his advice to leaders and troops, 128; importance of Washington's firmness, 129; his good judgment and patience, 130; decides success of the central authority, 130; early advocacy of separation of United States from European politics, 133; studies situation, 134, 135; sees importance of binding West with Eastern States, 135; sees necessity of good relations with England, 137; authorizes Morris to sound England as to exchange of ministers and a commercial treaty, 137; not disturbed by British bad manners, 138; succeeds in establishing diplomatic relations, 138; early foresees danger of excess in French Revolution, 139, 140; states a policy of strict neutrality, 140, 142, 143; difficulties of his situation, 142; objects to action of National Assembly on tobacco and oil, 144; denies reported request by United States that England mediate with Indians, 145; announces neutrality in case of a European war, 146; instructs cabinet to prepare a neutrality proclamation, 147; importance of this step not understood at time, 148, 149; foresees coming difficulties, 149, 150; acts cautiously toward _émigrés_, 151; contrast with Genet, 152; greets him coldly, 152; orders steps taken to prevent violations of neutrality, 153, 154; retires to Mt. Vernon for rest, 154; on returning finds Jefferson has allowed Little Sarah to escape, 156; writes a sharp note to Jefferson, 156; anger at escape, 157; takes matters out of Jefferson's hands, 157; determines on asking recall of Genet, 158; revokes exequatur of Duplaine, French consul, 159; insulted by Genet, 159, 160; refuses to deny Jay's card, 160; upheld by popular feeling, 160; his annoyance at the episode, 160; obliged to teach American people self-respect, 162, 163; deals with troubles incited by Genet in the West, 162, 163; sympathizes with frontiersmen, 163; comprehends value of Mississippi, 164, 165; sends a commission to Madrid to negotiate about free navigation, 166; later sends Thomas Pinckney, 166; despairs of success, 166; apparent conflict between French treaties and neutrality, 169, 170; value of Washington's policy to England, 171; in spite of England's attitude, intends to keep peace, 177; wishes to send Hamilton as envoy, 177; after his refusal appoints Jay, 177; fears that England intends war, 178; determines to be prepared, 178; urges upon Jay the absolute necessity of England's giving up Western posts, 179; dissatisfied with Jay treaty but willing to sign it, 184; in doubt as to meaning of conditional ratification, 184; protests against English "provision order" and refuses signature, 185; meets uproar against treaty alone, 188; determines to sign, 189; answers resolutions of Boston town meeting, 190; refuses to abandon his judgment to popular outcry, 190; distinguishes temporary from permanent feeling, 191; fears effect of excitement upon French government, 192; his view of dangers of situation, 193, 194; recalled to Philadelphia by cabinet, 195; receives intercepted correspondence of Fauchet, 195, 196; his course of action already determined, 197, 198; not influenced by the Fauchet letter, 198; evidence of this, 199, 200; reasons for ratifying before showing letter to Randolph, 199, 200; signs treaty, 201; evidence that he did not sacrifice Randolph, 201, 202; fairness of his action, 203; refuses to reply to Randolph's attack, 204; reasons for signing treaty, 205; justified in course of time, 206; refuses on constitutional grounds the call of representatives for documents, 208; insists on independence of treaty-making by executive and Senate, 209; overcomes hostile majority in House, 210; wishes Madison to succeed Morris at Paris, 211; appoints Monroe, 216; his mistake in not appointing a political supporter, 212; disgusted at Monroe's behavior, 213, 214; recalls Monroe and appoints C. C. Pinckney, 214; angered at French policy, 214; his contempt for Monroe's self-justification, 215, 216; review of foreign policy, 216-219; his guiding principle national independence, 216; and abstention from European politics, 217; desires peace and time for growth, 217, 218; wishes development of the West, 218, 219; wisdom of his policy, 219; considers parties dangerous, 220; but chooses cabinet from Federalists, 220; prepared to undergo criticism, 221; willingness to bear it, 221; desires to learn public feeling, by travels, 221, 222; feels that body of people will support national government, 222; sees and deplores sectional feelings in the South, 222, 223; objects to utterances of newspapers, 223; attacked by "National Gazette, " 227; receives attacks on Hamilton from Jefferson and his friends, 228, 229; sends charges to Hamilton, 229; made anxious by signs of party division, 229; urges both Hamilton and Jefferson to cease quarrel, 230, 231; dreads an open division in cabinet, 232; desirous to rule without party, 233; accomplishes feat of keeping both secretaries in cabinet, 233; keeps confidence in Hamilton, 234; urged by all parties to accept presidency again, 235; willing to be reelected, 235; pleased at unanimous vote, 235; his early immunity from attacks, 237; later attacked by Freneau and Bache, 238; regards opposition as dangerous to country, 239; asserts his intention to disregard them, 240; his success in Genet affair, 241; disgusted at "democratic" societies, 242; thinks they fomented Whiskey Rebellion, 242; denounces them to Congress, 243; effect of his remarks, 244; accused of tyranny after Jay treaty, 244; of embezzlement, 245; of aristocracy, 245; realizes that he must compose cabinet of sympathizers, 246; reconstructs it, 246; states determination to govern by party, 247; slighted by House, 247; refuses a third term, 248; publishes Farewell Address, 248; his justification for so doing, 248; his wise advice, 249; address Attacked by Democrats, 250, 251; assailed in Congress by Giles, 251; resents charge of being a British sympathizer, 252; his scrupulously fair conduct toward France, 253; his resentment at English policy, 254; his retirement celebrated by the opposition, 255; remarks of the "Aurora, " 256; forged letters of British circulated, 257; he repudiates them, 257; his view of opposition, 259. 

 _In Retirement_. Regards Adams's administration as continuation of his own, 259; understands Jefferson's attitude, 259; wishes generals of provisional army to be Federalist, 260; doubts fidelity of opposition as soldiers, 260; dreads their poisoning mind of army, 261; his condemnation of Democrats, 261, 262; snubs Dr. Logan for assuming an unofficial mission to France, 263-265; alarmed at Virginia and Kentucky resolutions, 266; urges Henry to oppose Virginia resolutions, 267; condemns the French party as unpatriotic, 267; refuses request to stand again for presidency, 269; comments on partisanship of Democrats, 269; believes that he would be no better candidate than any other Federalist, 270, 271; error of statement that Washington was not a party man, 271, 272; slow to relinquish non-partisan position, 272; not the man to shrink from declaring his position, 273; becomes a member of Federalist party, 273, 274; eager for end of term of office, 275; his farewell dinner, 275; at Adams's inauguration, 276; popular enthusiasm at Philadelphia, 276; at Baltimore, 277; returns to Mt. Vernon, 279; describes his farm life, 278, 279; burdened by necessities of hospitality, 280; account of his meeting with Bernard, 281-283; continued interest in politics, 284; accepts command of provisional army, 285; selects Hamilton, Pinckney, and Knox as major-generals, 286; surprised at Adams's objection to Hamilton, 286; rebukes Adams for altering order of rank of generals, 286, 287; not influenced by intrigue, 287; annoyed by Adams's conduct, 288; tries to soothe Knox's irritation, 289; fails to pacify him, 289; carries out organization of army, 290; does not expect actual war, 291; disapproves of Gerry's conduct, 292; disapproves of Adams's nomination of Vans Murray, 292; his dread of French Revolution, 295; distrusts Adams's attempts at peace, 296; approves Alien and Sedition laws, 296; his defense of them, 297; distressed by dissensions among Federalists, 298; predicts their defeat, 298; his sudden illness, 299-302; death, 303. 

 _Character_, misunderstood, 304; extravagantly praised, 304; disliked on account of being called faultless, 305; bitterly attacked in lifetime, 306; sneered at by Jefferson, 306; by Pickering, 307; called an Englishman, not an American, 307, 308; difference of his type from that of Lincoln, 310; none the less American, 311, 312; compared with Hampden, 312; his manners those of the times elsewhere in America, 314; aristocratic, but of a non-English type, 314-316; less affected by Southern limitations than his neighbors, 316; early dislike of New England changed to respect, 316, 317; friendly with people of humble origin, 317, 318; never an enemy of democracy, 318; but opposes French excesses, 318; his self-directed and American training, 319, 320; early conception of a nation, 321; works toward national government during Revolution, 321; his interest in Western expansion, 321, 322; national character of his Indian policy, 322; of his desire to secure free Mississippi navigation, 322; of his opposition to war as a danger to Union, 323; his anger at accusation of foreign subservience, 323; continually asserts necessity for independent American policy, 324, 325; opposes foreign educational influences, 325, 326; favors foundation of a national university, 326; breadth and strength of his national feeling, 327; absence of boastfulness about country, 328; faith in it, 328; charge that he was merely a figure-head, 329; its injustice, 330; charged with commonplaceness of intellect, 330; incident of the deathbed explained, 330, 331; falsity of the charge, 331; inability of mere moral qualities to achieve what he did, 331; charged with dullness and coldness, 332; his seriousness, 333; responsibility from early youth, 333; his habits of keen observation, 333; power of judging men, 334; ability to use them for what they were worth, 335; anecdote of advice to Hamilton and Meade, 335; deceived only by Arnold, 336; imperfect education, 337; continual efforts to improve it, 337, 338; modest regarding his literary ability, 339, 340; interested in education, 339; character of his writing, 340; tastes in reading, 341; modest but effective in conversation, 342; his manner and interest described by Bernard, 343-347; attractiveness of the picture, 347, 348; his pleasure in society, 348; power of paying compliments, letter to Mrs. Stockton, 349; to Charles Thompson, 350; to De Chastellux, 351; his warmth of heart, 352; extreme exactness in pecuniary matters, 352; illustrative anecdotes, 353, 354; favorable opinion of teller of anecdotes, 356; stern towards dishonesty or cowardice, 357; treatment of André and Asgill, 357, 358; sensitive to human suffering, 357, 358; kind and courteous to poor, 359; conversation with Cleaveland, 359; sense of dignity in public office, 360; hospitality at Mt. Vernon, 360, 361; his intimate friendships, 361, 362; relations with Hamilton, Knox, Mason, Henry Lee, Craik, 362, 363; the officers of the army, 363; Trumbull, Robert and Gouverneur Morris, 363; regard for and courtesy toward Franklin, 364; love for Lafayette, 365; care for his family, 366; lasting regard for Fairfaxes, 366, 367; kindness to Taft family, 367, 368; destroys correspondence with his wife, 368; their devoted relationship, 368; care for his step-children and relatives, 369, 370; charged with lack of humor, 371; but never made himself ridiculous, 372; not joyous in temperament, 372; but had keen pleasure in sport, 373; enjoyed a joke, even during Revolution, 374; appreciates wit, 375; writes a humorous letter, 376-378; not devoid of worldly wisdom, 378, 379; enjoys cards, dancing, the theatre, 380; loves horses, 380; thorough in small affairs as well as great, 381; controversy over site of church, 381; his careful domestic economy, 382; love of method, 383; of excellence in dress and furniture, 383, 384; gives dignity to American cause, 385; his personal appearance, 385; statements of Houdon, 386; of Ackerson, 386, 387; his tremendous muscular strength, 388; great personal impressiveness, 389, 390; lacking in imagination, 391; strong passions, 391; fierce temper, 392; anecdotes of outbreaks, 392; his absence of self-love, 393; confident in judgment of posterity, 393; religious faith, 394; summary and conclusion, 394, 395. 

 _Characteristics of_. General view, ii. 304-395; general admiration for, i. 1-7; myths about, i. 9-12, ii. 307 ff. ; comparisons with Jefferson, ii. 69; with Lincoln, ii. 310-312; with Hampden, ii. 312, 313; absence of self-seeking, i. 341; affectionateness, i. 111, 285, 331, 345, ii. 332, 362-371; agreeableness, ii. 344-347, 377; Americanism, ii. 307-328; aristocratic habits, ii. 314, 316; business ability, i. 105, 109, ii. 5, 352, 382; coldness on occasion, i. 223, 224, 263, ii. 318; courage, i. 77, 78, 86, 127, 168, 292; dignity, i. 81, 161, ii. 52-57, 76; hospitality, ii. 360; impressiveness, i. 56, 83, 130, 138, 319, ii. 385; indomitableness, i. 177, 181, 227; judgments of men, i. 295, ii. 64, 86, 334, 335; justice and sternness, i. 287, 330, ii. 203, 352-358, 389; kindliness, ii. 349-356, 359; lack of education, i. 62, ii. 337; love of reading, i. 62, ii. 341, 342; love of sport, i. 56, 98, 113-116, 118, ii. 380; manners, ii. 282-283, 314; military ability, i. 154, 166, 174, 183, 197, 204, 207, 239, 247, 265, 267, 305-320, ii. 331; modesty, i. 102, 134; not a figure-head, ii. 329, 330; not a prig, i. 10-12, 41-47; not cold and inhuman, ii. 332, 342; not dull or commonplace, ii. 330, 332; not superhuman and distant, i. 9, 10, 12, ii. 304, 305; open-mindedness, ii. 317; passionateness, i. 58, 73, 90; personal appearance, i. 57, 136, 137, ii. 282, 343, 385-389; religious views, i. 321, ii. 393; romantic traits, i. 95-97; sense of humor, ii. 371-377; silence regarding self, i. 14, 69, 70, 116, 129, 285; ii. 37, 336; simplicity, i. 59, 69, 348; ii. 50, 340; sobriety, i. 49, 52, 134; ii. 43, 45, 333, 373; tact, i. 162, 243, 244-246; temper, i. 73, 92, 110, 168, 236, 237, 260; ii. 98, 392; thoroughness, i. 112, 323, 341, ii. 381. 

 _Political Opinions_. On Alien and Sedition Acts, ii. 196; American nationality, i. 191, 250, 251, 255, 262, 279, ii. 7, 61, 133, 145, 324, 325, 327, 328; Articles of Confederation, i. 297, ii. 17, 24; bank, ii. 110, 111; colonial rights, i. 120, 124-126, 130; Constitution, i. 38-41; democracy, ii. 317-319; Democratic party, ii. 214, 239, 240, 258, 261, 267, 268; disunion, ii. 22; duties of the executive, ii. 190; education, ii. 81, 326, 330; Federalist party, ii. 71, 246, 247, 259, 260, 261, 269-274, 298; finance, ii. 107, 108, 112, 122; foreign relations, ii. 25, 134, 142, 145, 147, 179, 217-219, 323; French Revolution, ii. 139, 140, 295, 318; independence of colonies, i. 131, 159, 160; Indian policy, ii. 82, 87, 88, 91, 92, 104, 105; Jay treaty, ii. 184-205; judiciary, i. 150; nominations to office, ii. 62; party, ii. 70, 222, 233, 249; protection, ii. 116-122; slavery, i. 106-108; Stamp Act, i. 119; strong government, i. 298, ii. 18, 24, 129, 130; treaty power, ii. 190, 207-210; Virginia and Kentucky Resolutions, ii. 266, 267; Western expansion, ii. 6, 8-16, 135, 163-165, 218, 322. 

 Washington, George Steptoe, his sons educated by Washington, ii. 370. 

 Washington, John, brother of George, letter of Washington, to, i. 132. 

 Washington, Lawrence, brother of George Washington, educated in England, i. 54; has military career, 54; returns to Virginia and builds Mt. Vernon, 54; marries into Fairfax family, 54, 55; goes to West Indies for his health, 62; dies, leaving George guardian of his daughter, 64; chief manager of Ohio Company, 65; gives George military education, 65. 

 Washington, Lund, letter of Washington to, i. 152; rebuked by Washington for entertaining British, ii. 303. 

 Washington, Martha, widow of Daniel P. Custis, meets Washington, i. 101; courtship of, and marriage, 101, 102; hunts with her husband, 114; joins him at Boston, 151; holds levees as wife of President, ii. 54; during his last illness, 300; her correspondence destroyed, 368; her relations with her husband, 368, 369. 

 Washington, Mary, married to Augustine Washington, i. 39; mother of George Washington, 39; limited education but strong character, 40, 41; wishes George to earn a living, 49; opposes his going to sea, 49; letters to, 88; visited by her son, ii. 5. 

 Waters, Henry E. , establishes Washington pedigree, i. 32. 

 Wayne, Anthony, defeated after Brandywine, i. 198; his opinion of Germantown, 199; at Monmouth urges Washington to come, 235; ready to attack Stony Point, 268; his successful exploit, 269; joins Lafayette in Virginia, 307; appointed to command against Indians, ii. 100; his character, 100; organizes his force, 101; his march, 102; defeats the Indians, 103. 

 Weems, Mason L. , influence of his life of Washington on popular opinion, i. 10; originates idea of his priggishness, 11; his character, 41, 43; character of his book, 42; his mythical "rectorate" of Mt. Vernon, 43, 44; invents anecdotes of Washington's childhood, 44; folly of cherry-tree and other stories, 46; their evil influence, 47. 

 West, the, its importance realized by Washington, ii. 7-16; his influence counteracted by inertia of Congress, 8; forwards inland navigation, 9; desires to bind East to West, 9-11, 14; formation of companies, 11-13; on Mississippi navigation, 14-16, 164; projects of Genet in, 162; its attitude understood by Washington, 163, 164; Washington wishes peace in order to develop it, 218, 219, 321. 

 "Whiskey Rebellion, " passage of excise law, ii. 123; outbreaks of violence in Pennsylvania and North Carolina, 124; proclamation issued warning rioters to desist, 125; renewed outbreaks in Pennsylvania, 125, 126; the militia called out, 127; suppression of the insurrection, 128; real danger of movement, 129; its suppression emphasizes national authority, 129, 130; supposed by Washington to have been stirred up by Democratic clubs, 242. 

 White Plains, battle at, i. 173. 

 Wilkinson, James, brings Gates's message to Washington at Trenton, i. 180; brings news of Saratoga to Congress, 220; nettled at Sherman's sarcasm, discloses Conway cabal, 220; quarrels with Gates, 223; resigns from board of war, 223, 226; leads expedition against Indians, ii. 95. 

 Willett, Colonel, commissioner to Creeks, his success, ii. 91. 

 William and Mary College, Washington Chancellor of, ii. 339. 

 Williams, Washington's teacher, i. 48, 51. 

 Willis, Lewis, story of Washington's school days, i. 95. 

 Wilson, James, appointed to Supreme Court, ii. 72. 

 Wilson, James, "of England, " hunts with Washington, i. 115. 

 Wolcott, Oliver, receives Fauchet letter, ii. 195; succeeds Hamilton as Secretary of Treasury, 246. 

 Wooster, Mrs. , letter of Washington to, ii. 61. 

 YORKTOWN, siege of, i. 315-318. 

 "Young Man's Companion, " used by George Washington, origin of his rules of conduct, i. 52.