WASHINGTON CROSSING THE DELAWARE
WASHINGTON CROSSING THE DELAWARE
Discretion led him for the present to be satisfied with the success already won. The enemy was in the neighborhood with the bulk of his forces and it was to be expected would immediately try to wipe out the disgrace it had suffered. Washington recrossed the Delaware. This daring feat, crossing the river and the successful battle at Trenton, had magical effect upon thousands of citizens. Wherever the captured Hessians were taken the people turned out to see them. They had shown themselves to be the most dangerous foes of the Americans in battle. They had become brutalized through war, and misery had led them into committing many deeds of violence in the towns and country. The prisoners were now in danger of having the vengeance of the people visited upon them for the outrages committed by them or their comrades. Washington issued a manifesto in which he explained that these men had not voluntarily come to America to fight against the liberties of the people, but were the victims of the tyranny of a prince, who had sold them like cattle, wherefore he bespoke pity for them instead of revengeful feelings. His appeal had the desired effect.
In the meantime Washington learned that instead of pursuing him, the British had retired. He then determined to risk a second blow. Four days after the first attempt he crossed the Delaware again. General Howe sent Lord Cornwallis with eight thousand men against him. Washington took up a strong position and repulsed several attacks of the British. Lord Cornwallis was full of confidence, for, in the first place, his army was greatly in excess of the enemy’s in numbers and besides he was expecting reinforcements. So, as he expressed it, he thought he had caught the fox in his lair. He did not dream that Washington had no intention of remaining at the fortified place until it should please his excellency, Lord Cornwallis, to attack him with his reinforced army. To be sure the campfires still blazed through the night upon the spot which had been occupied by the Americans the day before; but when morning dawned and Cornwallis looked upon the empty lair with astonishment and disgust, Washington, who had marched around him with his troops, was in his rear at Princeton, several miles away. There he fell upon the reinforcements intended for Lord Cornwallis, three British regiments, and a fierce encounter took place. The British defended themselves desperately and for quite a while the outcome was uncertain. The danger for the Americans was growing greater every moment. The fact of finding the camp deserted in the morning, together with the distant cannonading, must long ago have enlightened Cornwallis as to the enemy’s movements. Suppose that he should come up and attack the Americans in the rear, while they were still engaged in the struggle with his reinforcements! Theymustgain the victory and that right soon. The Americans, who had been greatly encouraged by the victory at Trenton four days previously, fought with wonderful intrepidity. They were inspired too by the ardor of their General. Wherever the fight was fiercest, he was to be seen. That tall, manly figure, glowing with the fire of battle, was a magnificent sight. Often the General was lost to the view of his anxious men amid the smoke of battle, and they trembled at the thought of what would become of the cause if death should overtake him now. Such superhuman efforts could not fail of success. The enemy fled, leaving five hundred men dead and wounded on the battlefield and three hundred more prisoners in the power of the enemy. Washington’s soldiers were wonderfully elated. One of them wrote shortly afterward: “We felt as though resurrected from the dead. Recruits flocked into our lines, old soldiers reënlisted.” Another soldier wrote of Washington’s conduct in the battle: “The army loves the General mightily; but one thing they criticise about him—he is too careless of his person in every battle. His personal courage and the wish to enkindle his troops by his own example makes him forget all danger.” Washington now went into winter quarters in the mountainous region about Morristown, took up an invulnerable position, and continued to molest the enemy by sending out marauding parties, to such an extent that they found it necessary to withdraw from the neighborhood.
In Europe also, before the crossing of the Delaware, the American cause was considered lost. Now confidence that America would be able to establish her independence was reawakened both at home and abroad. In France there was an enthusiastic espousal of the cause of the American people and their heroic General. Even in England many gave Washington the honorable title of the American Fabius.
France was the country where enthusiasm for America was first kindled and where it burned most brightly. The struggle of a people for their liberties found great sympathy there, because the French people had for a long time suffered deeply under the misrule of the Bourbons, and the discontent was already brewing which, a few years later, led to such a terrible outbreak. There are those who put the American war for independence and the French revolution in the same category. But what a gulf there is between the two historical events! The cause, tyranny of the ruler, was the same in both instances, but the conduct of the revolution, the aim and consequences, were as different from one another as the Anglo-Saxon character is from that of the Latin. We must again recall the fact that the Americans had been anxious for a long time to reëstablish the old ties, which had been so recklessly loosened by the rulers, on a constitutional basis, and that it was not until they had exhausted every possible means of reconciliation, and until the government had closed every avenue of legal justice against them that they set to work to create a new constitution for themselves. In all their operations they never so far forgot themselves as to misuse the property of the church; on the contrary, their action was consecrated by religion. It was and remained their standard in the creation of a new constitution. What a contrast to the French people, who, in breaking the fetters of their slavery, overthrew the altars of religion at the same time! America gained her liberties in a reverent spirit, through earnest work; while France, possessed by madness, rent herself and did not succeed in shaking off the bonds of tyranny, though under new circumstances it gave itself grandiose names to deceive itself and others. What do the differing manifestations of the popular spirit mean? The Americans belong to the great Anglo-Saxon race, which has a deeply religious spirit. To them the laws of government mean a reflection of the eternal laws which find their expression in religion. Their object is to bring the laws of the State into harmony with the tenets of religion; to make it an animating and illuminating force in the life of the State. Thus in seeking to develop earthly life they draw from a divine source. It is different with the Latin race, in whom this deep religious strain is absent. This is most clearly apparent in the French nation. They have had many political revolutions without gaining any permanent constitutional advantages, and they will probably continue to teach the world that a people, however talented they may be in some directions, will nevertheless never reach the harbor of a well-ordered political status unless the aspiration dwell within them continually to purify and elevate their moral condition by serious examination of themselves.
This criticism refers to the French people as a whole. That there were excellent individuals among them no one will dispute, and these were full of enthusiasm for the struggle for liberty in the forests of America. One of the noblest among them was Lafayette. He was nineteen years old, an officer, handsome, rich, happily married, and his family was one of the most influential in France. He had the prospect of a brilliant position at court, but he despised the luxurious life there. It was revolting to him to see how the taxes, which were squeezed out of the people, were wasted, and as the frivolous and bewildering Parisian life was very distasteful to him, he had retired to live on one of his estates far from the capital, where he passed happy days in the society of his beautiful, amiable, and well-educated wife. But his love of liberty urged him continually to devote himself to the great work of emancipation. Botta tells us: “Filled with the enthusiasm which great events usually inspire in noble natures, he made the cause of the Americans his own with that peculiar ardor which possessed most people at that time and particularly the French. He felt it to be just and sacred. Burning with the desire to take part in the struggle, he had laid his plan of going to their country before the American ambassadors in Paris, and they had confirmed him in his resolution. But when they received news of the disasters on Long Island and were almost in despair of the success of the revolution, they were honorable enough to advise him not to go. They even told him that in the terrible situation in which they were placed, they did not have the means to fit out a ship to carry him to America. The undismayed young man is said to have answered that now was the time when their cause most needed help; that his departure would have all the more effect because the people were so discouraged; and finally, that if they could not provide a ship for him, he should fit one out at his own expense. What he had said came to pass. The world was amazed. This decision on the part of a man of such rank gave rise to all kinds of rumors. The French court, perhaps because it did not wish to offend England, forbade the marquis to embark. It was even said that ships had been sent out to capture him in the waters of the Antilles. In spite of all this, he tore himself from the arms of his lovely young wife and set sail.” Lafayette landed safely in America and presented himself immediately before the president of Congress. Shortly before this there had been some unfortunate experiences with Frenchmen. French officers had presented themselves with high pretensions to rank and compensation. Lafayette offered to serve as a common soldier and to pay his own expenses. His bearing and appearance immediately won the confidence of the earnest men in Congress, and he was accorded the rank of major-general. Washington received him at headquarters with open arms, and a particularly intimate friendship sprang up between them, which was terminated only by death. Lafayette found many opportunities of proving his capabilities on the battlefield.
A noble Pole, the celebrated Thaddeus Kosciuszko, also dedicated his sword to the American struggle for independence. From youth he had been distinguished by a noble and generous nature. At the Institute for Cadettes at Warsaw he soon surpassed all his fellow students through his indefatigable devotion to his studies. As an officer, he became acquainted with the daughter of the rich and aristocratic Marshal of Lithuania, Joseph Sosnowsky, and was soon hopelessly enamoured of her. Both of them were young, handsome, intellectual, and full of enthusiasm for all that was good and beautiful, seemingly created for each other. Her father thought otherwise, for he wished for a son-in-law of rank and wealth. On his knees and with tears, Kosciuszko begged the marshal for his consent to the union of their hearts. Insolent words and threats were his answer. In vain the marshal’s wife and daughter threw themselves at his feet. He threatened to put his daughter in a convent. Then the lovers resolved to fly together. The execution of the plan took place on a dark night, but their secret was betrayed and the marshal sent a number of armed horsemen after the pair. A struggle took place and Kosciuszko, seriously wounded, sank to the ground. When he awakened after a swoon of several hours, he found himself lying in his own blood. Beside him lay a white veil which his beloved had lost in the moment of danger. This he kept and wore always as a sacred treasure upon his person in all his battles. Kosciuszko came to America to triumph or die in the war for independence. He presented himself, without means or any letters of introduction whatever, to the commander-in-chief, General Washington. “What do you wish to do?” asked the General, who was always laconic. “I have come to fight as a volunteer for the independence of America,” was the equally short and fearless answer. “What are you capable of doing?” the General asked further, and Kosciuszko answered with his characteristic noble simplicity: “Put me to the test.” It was done, and Washington soon recognized the abilities of the noble Pole. With the rank of colonel, he was on the staff of several generals. When the British were pursued on their retreat from Philadelphia, Kosciuszko, at the head of a band of volunteers, performed marvels of valor. Lafayette, who was chief in command of that section of the army which was pursuing the enemy, asked, on the evening of that fierce day’s work, who the leader of those volunteers was. Some one told him: “He is a young Pole of noble lineage, but poor. His name, if I am not mistaken, is Kosciuszko.” The volunteers were encamped about a half hour’s ride distant. Lafayette galloped thither straightway, had Kosciuszko’s tent pointed out to him, and entered it. There he found the hero, still covered with dust and blood, sitting at a table, his head resting on his arm and with a map spread out before him. From that time the two were close friends.
We must also mention a German who played a prominent role in the war for independence—Baron Steuben. He was a graduate of the Prussian military academy, the foremost one in Europe, as Washington declared, and in him America had a General who was able to accomplish wonders in discipline. Without understanding a word of English he undertook the office of inspector-general which was offered him, and he understood how to train these free men so that a word or a look was sufficient to carry out his orders with absolute precision. Later the government made him a present of twenty-six thousand acres, “for the eminent services rendered to the United States during the war,” and on this property he settled down. Like him, many Germans had come to America to help complete the great task of the emancipation of a people from tyranny. Whole regiments were formed of German immigrants and American descendants of Germans, and these Washington considered among his most daring and reliable troops.
It was a seven years’ holy war which the Americans were obliged to wage. Dark times were still to follow, times in which, even among the best men, the belief in a successful outcome was shaken. In regard to military organization and discipline there was still much to be desired, for the measure of it which had been successfully introduced by Baron Steuben had not immediately permeated the whole army. Indeed the whole military body was as yet only in process of formation and at the same time the situation was such that unprecedented feats of endurance had to be required of the soldiers. They were very badly off in the matter of arms and other necessaries. Often even proper food was wanting. Clothing and weapons were scarce. Congress had been obliged to resort to the introduction of paper money, which was copied in England, sent over in quantities, and by this means reduced in value. As the enemy commanded the seas and occupied first one part of the country, then another, taking possession relentlessly of whatever they wanted, trade and commerce were extinguished and misery and want were prevalent among the inhabitants. What would have happened had the country not possessed in Washington a commander whose example was always an inspiration to others and whose words of wisdom always appealed to hearts and heads! In war the soldier is readily inclined, especially when he is in need, to take possession of whatever seems necessary or desirable by force. We read of wars in which the peaceable inhabitants suffer equally from friend and foe in this respect. Even Congress closed an eye when it became known that parts of the American army had taken forcible possession of provisions. Not so the commander-in-chief. In this matter also he strove for the just and the right course. He urged Congress to regulate the supplies for the army and showed the unfortunate consequences which must ensue if it became their custom to take possession of the necessaries of life by force. “Such a proceeding,” he says, in one of his letters, “must, even though it should afford temporary relief, have the most disastrous consequences eventually. It spreads discontent, hatred, and fear amongst the people, and never fails, even among the best disciplined troops, to fan the flame of degeneracy, plunder, and robbery, which is later hard to subdue; and these habits become ruinous, not only to the populace, but especially to the army. I shall consider it as the greatest of misfortunes if we are reduced to the necessity of adopting such methods.” In spite of all this the General was continually the victim of slanders. Foolish people misunderstood him, ambitious ones strove to procure his position. Like General Lee, earlier in the war, General Gates now schemed to supersede the commander-in-chief. In some parts of the army there were mutinies. To Congress, which demanded relentless punishment, Washington said: “One must consider that the soldiers are not made of stone or wood, invulnerable to hunger and thirst, frost and snow.” It sometimes happened that the roads were marked with the bloody footprints of the soldiers, who were mostly without shoes even in winter! But at the same time he appealed to the soldiers, explained to them with urgent words the situation of their country, the dignity of their profession, and the demands which the country had a right to make on them. Among other things he said: “Our profession is the most chaste of any; even the shadow of a fault sullies the purity of our praiseworthy deeds.” While appealing thus to the better elements in human nature, he had the satisfaction of seeing that his procedure was meeting with success. The iron hand of severity and its attendant horrors he kept for the most extreme cases, but in these he let the military laws take their course inexorably. Mutineers were sometimes shot and spies were delivered up to the rope.
In the Fall of 1777 the fortunes of war were twice in quick succession favorable to the British in the battles of the Brandywine and Germantown. A second British army under Burgoyne was to advance from Canada. Washington had sent a division to meet him under Gates and Arnold. An engagement took place which was undecided, but soon afterward, at Saratoga, the British general was obliged to capitulate and Congress was notified that: “This fortunate day’s work has given us six generals and five thousand soldiers, five thousand guns and twenty-seven cannon, with their ammunition. During the campaign we have, besides, taken two thousand prisoners, among them several of the higher officers.”
This success ripened a project which had been under consideration for a long time: an alliance with France. It was not love of the newly constructed nation that induced the French government to declare herself openly as an ally of America, but hatred of England, whom she wished to weaken as much as possible. Joy was great among the American people over the conclusion of the alliance. However, comparatively little was done by France, who, moreover, intended to reimburse herself, for the assistance rendered, by acquiring lands. The Americans, after all, had to rely principally on their own exertions and resources. As England now had two enemies to contend with, she redoubled her efforts with great vigor. General Howe, who for years had been boasting and had so often announced that in a short time the rebels would be completely routed, but had never reached this goal, was recalled and replaced by General Clinton. To a greater extent than had ever been done before, the Indian tribes of the Iroquois and Creeks were urged by British agents to undertake marauding expeditions in the American settlements. They even offered themselves as leaders of these murderous bands. They spread fire and murder through the American colonies to the full extent of their power. The consequence was a campaign in which the colonists sought to revenge themselves. But this was not the only result. The resistance of the Americans was inflamed by the fact that the British had let loose these bands of savages, who practised many unheard-of cruelties even against women and girls. Patriotism had been awakened in the breasts of the women, and a youth or man who did not show himself ready to serve his country was now looked upon with scorn.
There were many battles in which first one side, then the other, gained the advantage. At last, through clever generalship, Washington, who had the French troops also under his command, was successful in shutting up General Cornwallis in Yorktown. Having had several successes the British general had become too daring and had ventured too far to the front. By means of counter marches Washington managed to conceal his intentions from General Clinton very successfully. Cornwallis’ cry for help reached the British commander too late: “I cannot hold Yorktown for any length of time. If you cannot relieve me, you may expect the worst.” The engagement was opened with the combined forces and soon afterward, October 19, 1781, Cornwallis capitulated. Nearly eight thousand of the British were taken captive and two hundred cannon were seized. Not a prisoner was harmed, although it was well known that a short time before this American prisoners had been murdered by the British.
Everywhere the conviction spread that American independence was assured! Lafayette, who had greatly distinguished himself in leading a storming column, wrote to Count Maurepas: “The piece is played out, the fifth act is just ended.” On receiving the news, Franklin said: “Hearty thanks for the glorious news. The young Hercules has strangled his second serpent in the cradle!” In England also it was recognized more and more that “the colonies cannot again be brought under our dominion!” A new ministry took the reins, negotiations were begun, and at last, on September 3, 1783, peace was formally declared between Great Britain and the American Republic, whose independence was thereby recognized.
America was free. It had won its freedom by an heroic struggle. And now came the task of making a wise use of this freedom. One who had contemplated the character of the American people, as it had revealed itself during the preliminaries to the war and during its progress, must have said to himself: “A circumspect and therefore secure procedure in the affairs of the new government is to be expected from a people of such character!” And yet, immediately after the conclusion of peace, the republic was in great danger. The nucleus of the army consisted of men who for years had been weaned from the occupations of peace. Congress had granted them a bonus of several years’ pay, but after that the prospect remained of their being obliged to return to their former occupations. This did not suit them. They had had an opportunity of comparing their position with that of the French soldiers with whom they had fought side by side. In the French army the officers were in great part young nobles, to whom the profession of arms was a sort of charitable institution and haven of refuge. What a contrast between these gold-embroidered marquises, counts, and cadets and the plainly dressed officers of the American army. In their outward appearance the American officers could not even compare with the common French soldiery, the spruce musketeers and grenadiers of the French line. Thus the American soldiers, thinking more of their own advantage and position than of the general good, considering that the soldier would be better off if the country were ruled by a king, conceived the wish that the free form of government which had arisen during the war should be set aside and a monarchical form substituted for it. If this had been the general demand of the country, there would have been nothing to be said against it. The discussion as to whether the republican or monarchic form of government is the better is an idle one. Nations have lived happily under one as well as the other. The happiness of a people does not depend on a particular form of government so much as on the respect for law and on the self-sacrificing devotion of individuals to the welfare of the State. The wish for a monarchy proceeded only from the selfish desires of one class. Of course if they wished to carry out their plan, it was necessary to fix upon some prominent man, and who else should this be but Washington? A reputable officer, Colonel Lewis Nicola, was appointed to notify the commander-in-chief of the wishes of the army. He did this very tactfully in a letter. A constitution with a king at the head, he said, was the best form of government for America. Washington was requested to work toward this end, taking at first a more modest title and later calling himself king.
For many a man in the General’s position this would have been a temptation impossible to resist. With a consenting nod, the army would have proclaimed the commander-in-chief king. If the army had made him king, to be sure, he would then have been obliged to come to their terms. There is no doubt that had Washington obeyed that voice his fame would have been sullied for all time. The majority would have been coerced for the sole purpose of ministering to the selfishness of the minority. Foundation principles expressing the will of the majority had already been formulated during the terrible struggle and were sealed with the heart’s blood of the nation, and in this constitution a crown had no place. Frankly considered, what was now proposed to Washington was that he should make himself guilty of treason to the people. The most zealous fighter against the destruction of constitutional government was expected to commit this detestable crime.
As the witches had shown Macbeth a golden circlet, so now Washington was tempted with a sparkling crown. Ah! but he was not a Macbeth. Ambitious greed held no place in his great and pure soul. “This will I give you, if you will sin; the greatness of your fortunes shall be worthy of the greatness of the crime!” Thus, though disguised in innocent form, read the words of the venomous old serpent of ambition, the liar, the destroyer of human happiness. Not for a moment did Washington allow himself to become entangled in the web of temptation. He immediately sent the following answer to the colonel: “With a mixture of great surprise and astonishment, I have read with attention the sentiments you have submitted to my perusal. Be assured, sir, no occurrence in the course of this war has given me more painful sensations than your information of there being such ideas existing in the army as you have expressed, and which I must view with abhorrence and reprehend with severity. For the present the communication of them will rest in my own bosom, unless some further agitation of the matter shall make a disclosure necessary. I am much at a loss to conceive what part of my conduct could have given encouragement to an address which to me seems big with the greatest mischiefs that can befall my country. If I am not deceived in the knowledge of myself, you could not have found a person to whom your schemes are more disagreeable. At the same time, in justice to my own feelings, I must add that no man possesses a more serious wish to see ample justice done to the army than I do; and as far as my power and influence, in a constitutional way, extend, they shall be employed to the 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 these thoughts from your mind and never communicate, as from yourself or any one else, a sentiment of the like nature.”
In the same spirit he took his farewell of the army in announcing the declaration of peace. After he had recalled the heroic deeds which they had done on the battlefield, he paid his tribute to them for the manner in which they had discarded all narrow provincial prejudices, made up, as they were, of the greatest variety of elements, and had become a harmonious body, a patriotic brotherhood. He urged them to maintain in times of peace the reputation which they had won; that his friends should not forget that thrift, wisdom, and industry, the virtues of the citizen in private life, were not less valuable than the brilliant qualities of courage, endurance, and initiative in war; that officers and men should live amicably with the other citizens and strive with all their might to preserve and strengthen the government of the United States. If this should not be done, the honor and dignity of the nation would be lost forever.
He took particular leave of his officers at a banquet. Taking his glass of wine in his hand he said: “With a heart full of love and gratitude, I now take leave of you, most devoutly wishing that your latter days may be as prosperous and happy as your former ones have been glorious and honorable.” After lifting the wine to his lips and drinking a farewell benediction, he added, while his voice trembled with emotion: “I cannot come to each of you to take my leave, but shall be obliged if each of you will come and take me by the hand.” With deep emotion General Knox, who stood nearest to the General, went to him and held out his trembling hand. Overcome by his feelings, Washington could not speak a word and could only embrace the General affectionately. The other officers followed and not an eye remained dry.
There had been some men in Congress who, considering the ominous examples in history, had not been free of anxiety lest Washington might not easily relinquish his powerful position after peace had been won. They were now reassured. At a solemn session of Congress he laid down his office. In the address which he gave on this occasion he said, among other things: “Happy in the confirmation of our independence and sovereignty and pleased with the opportunity afforded the United States of becoming a respectable nation, I resign with satisfaction the appointment I accepted with diffidence; a diffidence in my abilities to accomplish so arduous a task, which, however, was superseded by a confidence in the rectitude of our cause, the support of the supreme power of the Union, and the patronage of Heaven. The successful termination of the war has verified the most sanguine expectations; and my gratitude for the interposition of Providence, and the assistance I have received from my countrymen, increases with every view of the momentous contest.” In closing he said: “I consider it as an indispensable duty to close this last act of my official life by commending the interests 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 great theatre of action, and bidding an affectionate farewell to this august body, under whose orders I have so long acted, I here offer my commission and take my leave of all the employments of public life.”
Washington then handed his marshal’s staff to the president. The president replied to the address, and said, among other things: “Having defended the standard of liberty in this new world; having taught a lesson useful to those who inflict and to those who feel oppression, you retire from the great theatre of action with the blessings of your fellow citizens. But the glory of your virtues will not terminate with your military command. It will continue to animate remotest ages. We join you in commending the interests of our dearest country to the protection of Almighty God, beseeching Him to dispose the hearts and minds of its citizens to improve the opportunity afforded them of becoming a happy and respectable nation!”
Before his departure Washington sent a letter to General Steuben, in which he cordially acknowledged the debt which America owed to him and his German countrymen for the effective assistance rendered in the work of freeing the colonies, and he added that Steuben might consider him a true friend and be assured that if there should be any opportunity of giving practical proof of this friendship, he should not fail to do so.
Washington refused any remuneration and accepted only compensation for the expenses and outlay which he had incurred, presenting an account which contained the smallest details of his expenses.
Then this great, wise, and good man returned to his country seat at Mount Vernon to pass the rest of his life in quiet retirement. His manner of life there is best shown by a letter which he wrote to Lafayette: “At length I am become a private citizen, free from the bustle of a camp and the busy scenes of public life. I am solacing myself with those tranquil enjoyments of which the soldier, who is ever in pursuit of fame, the statesman, whose watchful days and sleepless nights are spent in devising schemes to promote the welfare of his own, perhaps the ruin of other countries, as if this globe was insufficient for us all, and the courtier, who is always watching the countenance of his prince, in hopes of catching a gracious smile, can have very little conception. Envious of none, I am determined to be pleased with all; and this, my dear friend, being the order of my march, I will move gently down the stream of life, until I sleep with my fathers.”
Hospitality was one of the principal virtues practised at Mount Vernon. “A glass of wine and a piece of mutton are always to be had,” wrote Washington to Lafayette. “Whoever is satisfied with these will always be welcome; if he expects more he will be disappointed.”
Private persons as well as the government had vainly tried to induce Washington to accept a reward for his services. A stock company which had been formed, on Washington’s advice, to make two rivers navigable, received the approval of Congress for its work. The opportunity was seized as a new means of rewarding him, for he was responsible for the drawing up of the well-considered plan. The board of directors determined to turn over to him 150 shares at 100 pounds sterling each. The presentation was made in such a way that Washington feared that a refusal to accept might be construed as a lack of respect. Therefore he accepted the shares, adding, however, that he intended to use them for the public welfare. And in his will we read that he set aside that sum for the building of a university in the central part of the United States.
WASHINGTON AS PROPRIETOR
WASHINGTON AS PROPRIETOR
Washington had enjoyed the pleasures of retirement on his estate for four years when his country again claimed his services for the general good and he was unanimously elected President of the United States. He had misgivings as to his ability to fulfil the duties of the highest office in the government. His success in the military field, he argued, did not guarantee that he was capable of becoming a wise administrator. The people, however, thought otherwise. In the countless decrees and orders which Washington had issued during the long period of the war, the great statesman had been apparent as well as the great general. And especially at the moment when the constitution, which had been amended in the meanwhile, was to receive its first trial, every one felt that no hand could hold the rudder of State so securely as Washington’s. His friends urged him to sacrifice his love of private life once more for his country. He hesitatingly accepted. “To-day,” he writes in his diary on April 16, 1789, “I bade farewell to private life and domestic felicity. I am so overwhelmed with care and painful emotion that words fail me to express it. I have set out on the journey to New York to obey the call of my country with the best intentions to serve her in every possible way, but with poor prospect of fulfilling her expectations.”
His journey resembled a triumphal procession. The inhabitants of Trenton paid him particular honors, in remembrance of his memorable crossing of the Delaware twelve years previously. Triumphal arches were erected on the bridge, bearing appropriate inscriptions, and little girls in white dresses strewed the path which the “choice of the people” was to tread with flowers. A gayly decorated vessel, guided by thirteen pilots in the name of the thirteen States, brought him into New York Harbor. The love of the people touched and encouraged him, but did not suffice to quite banish the burden of care which the contemplation of all the difficulties which were awaiting him had laid upon him. It was to be read in his face and in his whole bearing. He said in his inaugural address:
“It would be peculiarly improper to omit in this first official act my fervent supplications to that Almighty Being who rules over the Universe, who presides in the councils of nations, and whose providential aids can supply every human defect that His benediction may consecrate to the liberties and happiness of the people of the United States, a government instituted by themselves for these essential purposes, and may enable every instrument employed in its administration to execute with success the functions allotted to his charge. In tendering this homage to the great Author of every public and private good, I assure myself that it expresses your sentiments, not less than my own, nor those of my fellow citizens at large less than either. No people can be bound to acknowledge and adore the invisible hand which conducts the affairs of men more than the people of the United States.” The close says: “There is no truth more thoroughly established than that there exists in the economy and course of nature an indissoluble union between virtue and happiness, between duty and advantage, between the genuine maxims of an honest and magnanimous policy and the solid rewards of the public prosperity and felicity. Since we ought to be no less persuaded that the propitious smiles of Heaven can never be expected on a nation that disregards the eternal rules of order and right which Heaven itself has ordained, and since the preservation of the sacred fire of liberty and the destiny of the republican model of government are justly considered as deeply, perhaps as finally, staked on the experiment entrusted to the hands of the American people.”
He wrote to his friend Lafayette: “Harmony, honesty, industry, and temperance are the qualities to make us a great and happy people. This path to the attainment of the people’s happiness is as plain and straight as a ray of light.” He would not accept a salary even as President. He considered it a great boon to be in a position to render services to the State without remuneration. With grave earnestness he took up the labors of his position, in order to master the difficulties that awaited him on all sides. A heavy load of debt was hanging over the country, commerce and trade needed encouragement, and the frontiers suffered much from the depredations of Indian tribes. With the outbreak of the French revolution new difficulties arose. Washington considered the events in Paris a natural consequence of previous misgovernment, but in spite of his esteem for certain Frenchmen, he soon felt that the moral earnestness essential for the attainment of true liberty was lacking among the masses of the French people. His prophetic soul already foresaw what the end of the movement would be. He pointed out the erratic qualities of the French people and the bloody acts of revenge of which they were guilty and continued: “There certainly are reefs and sand-bars enough on which the Ship of State may be wrecked, and in this case a much more disastrous despotism will result from the movement than that from which the people have suffered before.” Whatever was sound in the French revolution was brought back by the French who had fought in America. Unfortunately the sound ideas, as we know, did not long prevail, and with the reaction came corresponding bestial degeneration. The fate which overtook King Louis the Sixteenth moved Washington profoundly; never in his life, those close to him have told us, had he been so crushed and bowed down as when the news of Louis’ execution was received. The horrors in France had their echoes in America; clubs were formed which presented the claims of the French Jacobins. A picture was published by them with the inscription, “Washington’s Funeral,” in which he was represented standing under the guillotine; they did not conceal their intention of ignoring the President and the Constitution. Washington stood firm amidst party storms, as he had once stood on the Delaware when storm and ice threatened to destroy his bark. This firmness and the further development of the bloody drama in France caused the extreme party in America gradually to lose its influence with the people and finally to disappear.
Washington was elected President for the second time in 1793. The eight years of his administration were very prosperous ones. His interpretation and administration of the Constitution have always been considered the standard, among the best of his successors, for their actions. At the end of his second term, when Washington learned that the people really intended to confer on him for the third time the highest honor in the land, he begged his fellow citizens to put the rudder of State into younger hands, and in an official declaration he decisively declined a reëlection. He also took leave of the nation, at the same time giving them some golden words of advice: “Of all the dispositions and habits which lead to political prosperity, religion and morality are indispensable supports. In vain would that man claim the tribute of patriotism who should labor to subvert these great pillars of human happiness, these firmest props of the duties of men and citizens. The mere politician, equally with the pious man, ought to respect and to cherish them. A volume could not trace all their connections with private and public felicity. Let it simply be asked, where is the security for property, for reputation, for life, if the sense of religious obligation desert the oaths, which are the instruments of investigation in courts of justice; let us with caution indulge the supposition that morality can be maintained without religion. Whatever may be conceded to the influence of refined education on minds of peculiar structure, reason and experience both forbid us to expect that national morality can prevail in exclusion of religious principle.”
In closing he said: “Though, in reviewing the incidents of my administration, I am unconscious of intentional error, I am, nevertheless, too sensible of my defects not to think it probable that I may have committed many errors. Whatever they may be, I fervently beseech the Almighty to avert or mitigate the evils to which they may tend. I shall also carry with me the hope that my country will never cease to view them with indulgence; and that, after forty-five years of my life dedicated to its service with an upright zeal, the faults of incompetent abilities will be consigned to oblivion as myself must soon be to the mansions of rest.”
For a year and a half thereafter he led a life of tranquil happiness on his estate in the country. On the twelfth of December, 1799, during a ride, he was overtaken by a storm and took a severe cold. All treatment was unavailing. His breathing became very painful. He said to the doctor, with unclouded glance and in a calm voice, “Doctor, I die hard, but I am not afraid to go. I believed from my first attack that I should not survive it. My breath cannot last long.” In the evening, at ten o’clock, he sank to eternal rest.
His death took place December 14, 1799, in his sixty-eighth year. In his will Washington freed his slaves, providing at the same time for the old and infirm among them, and setting aside large sums for the founding of a university and of a free school for poor children.
John Marshall announced the death of Washington in the House of Representatives in a trembling voice. The emotion with which this news was received was so profound that the session had to be suspended. In conformity with his expressed desire, the deceased was buried on the grounds of his estate, without pomp and without any funeral oration. Members of the order of Free Masons, whose noble principles he had always practised during his lifetime, silently cast a shower of white roses into his grave.
In the House of Representatives the speaker’s chair was hung with black and the members wore mourning during the remainder of the session. The above-mentioned John Marshall pronounced a touching eulogy on Washington and made a proposal which was unanimously seconded. This was that a committee should be named to consider how best to honor the memory of Washington, the man who was “first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen.”
What was the secret of the mysterious power in Washington which enhanced all his talents and gave him control over men and events? It was reason ruling his passions, his modest deference to the judgment of others, his just consideration of the rights and claims of others, his deliberation in promises and undertakings, the deep earnestness of his nature, the respect-compelling firmness of his actions, his strong sense of duty in carrying out his work, the high regard for the voice of conscience which he exacted of himself even in his youth. Washington had a horror of gambling, which he called the source of all vice, the destroyer of character and health, the child of greed, the brother of injustice, the father of depravity. He looked upon war only as a means toward peace, for his sole object was the welfare of the people. His triumphs in war were in themselves but as dross to him if they had not guaranteed liberty and the assured development of the prosperity of the country. In making appointments to positions of trust he never allowed considerations of friendship or relationship to influence him, and even his opponents admitted that no man’s sense of justice in this regard was more unbending than his. How touching it is to note that at every stage of his glorious career the longing prevailed to return to the employments of country life, from the field of war to the shade of his own vine and fig tree on the banks of the Potomac, to escape from the publicity of official life to the happy domestic circle, to withdraw into the sweet retirement of an inner life which gave him a happiness of which the ambitious soldier and the anxious statesman know nothing. The Christian world can scarcely find, in the life of a public man, another example of such religious conviction, such humility, and such a deep and sincere purpose to emulate Christ’s example in justice, charity, brotherly love, moderation, and equanimity of soul. And it was not only his admirers who conceded to him the highest attributes of wisdom, moderation, and justice in intellectual, ethical, and political fields, but also his opponents and enemies. In examining his life, wherever we look, the absolute sincerity of the man’s nature is apparent. In every direction the study of his life gives us the most fruitful incentives and examples. It teaches a lesson to those who doubt the real power of virtue. His sterling worth eclipses all false brilliancy and his life has given us a higher standard in our judgment of the great characters in history, a standard which had almost been lost during centuries of despotism. The dazzling events and brilliant deeds in the life of a Napoleon lowered the standard for a time, but were not able to destroy it.