THE FIRST GUN
Meanwhile the course of events was leading toward a new and unexpected
goal. Chief Justice Marshall said, as I have quoted, that 1763, the
end of the French-Indian War, marked the greatest friendship and
harmony between the Colonies and England. The reason is plain. In
their incessant struggles with the French and the Indians, the
Colonists had discovered a real champion and protector. That
protector, England, had found that she must really protect the
Colonies unless she was willing to see them fall into the hands of
her rival, France. Putting forth her strength, she crushed France in
America, and remained virtually in control not only of the Colonies
and territory from the Atlantic to the Mississippi, but also of
British America. In these respects the Colonies and the Mother Country
seemed destined to be bound more closely together; but the very spirit
by which Britain had conquered France in America, and France in India,
and had made England paramount throughout the world, prevented the
further fusion, moral, social, and political, of the Colonies with the
Mother Country.
That spirit was the Imperial Spirit, which Plassey and Quebec had
called to life. The narrow Hanoverian King, who now ruled England,
could not himself have devised the British Empire, but when the Empire
crystallized, George III rightly surmised that, however it had come
about, it meant a large increase in power for him. The Colonies and
Dependencies were to be governed like conquered provinces. Evidently,
the Hindus of Bengal could hardly be treated in the same fashion as
were the Colonists of Massachusetts or Virginia. The Bengalese knew
that there was no bond of language or of race between them and their
conquerors, whereas American Colonists knew that they and the British
sprang from the same race and spoke the same language. One of the
first realizations that came to the British Imperialists was that the
ownership of the conquered people or state warranted the conquerors in
enriching themselves from the conquered. But while this might do very
well in India, and be accepted there as a matter of course, it would
be most ill-judged in the American Colonies, for the Colonists were
not a foreign nor a conquered people. They originally held grants of
land from the British Crown, but they had worked that land themselves
and settled the wilderness by their own efforts, and had a right to
whatever they might earn.
The Tory ideals, which took possession of the British Government when
Lord Bute succeeded to William Pitt in power, were soon applied to
England's relations to the American Colonies. The Seven Years' War
left England heavily in debt. She needed larger revenues, and being
now swayed by Imperialism, she easily found reasons for taxing the
Colonies. In 1765 she passed the Stamp Act which caused so much bad
feeling that in less than a year she decided to repeal it, but new
duties on paper, glass, tea, and other commodities were imposed
instead. In the North, Massachusetts took the lead in opposing what
the Colonists regarded as the unconstitutional acts of the Crown. The
patriotic lawyer of Boston, James Otis, shook the Colony with his
eloquence against the illegal encroachments and actual tyranny of the
English. Other popular orators of equal eminence, John and Samuel
Adams and Josiah Quincy, fanned the flames of discontent. Even the
most radical did not yet whisper the terrible word Revolution, or
suggest that they aspired to independence. They simply demanded their
"rights" which the arrogant and testy British Tories had shattered and
were withholding from them. At the outset rebels seldom admit that
their rebellion aims at new acquisitions, but only at the recovery of
the old.
Next to Massachusetts, Virginia was the most vigorous of the Colonies
in protesting against British usurpation of power, which would deprive
them of their liberty. Although Virginia had no capital city like
Boston, in which the chief political leaders might gather and discuss
and plan, and mobs might assemble and equip with physical force the
impulses of popular indignation, the Old Dominion had means, just as
the Highland clans or the Arab tribes had, of keeping in touch with
each other. Patrick Henry, a young Virginia lawyer of sturdy Scotch
descent, by his flaming eloquence was easily first among the spokesmen
of the rights of the Colonists in Virginia. In the "Parsons Cause," a
lawsuit which might have passed quickly into oblivion had he not seen
the vital implications concerned in it, he denied the right of the
King to veto an act of the Virginia Assembly, which had been passed
for the good of the people of Virginia. In the course of the trial
he declared, "Government was a conditional compact between the King,
stipulating protection on the one hand, and the people, stipulating
obedience and support on the other," and he asserted that a violation
of these covenants by either party discharged the other party from its
obligations. Doctrines as outspoken as these uttered in court, whether
right or wrong, indicated that the attorney who uttered them, and the
judge who listened, and the audience who applauded, were not blind
worshippers of the illegal rapacity of the Crown.
Patrick Henry was the most spectacular of the early champions of the
Colonists in Virginia, but many others of them agreed with him. Among
these the weightiest was the silent George Washington. He said little,
but his opinions passed from mouth to mouth, and convinced many. In
1765 he wrote to Francis Dandridge, an uncle of Mrs. Washington:
The Stamp Act imposed on the colonies by the Parliament of Great
Britain, engrosses the conversation of the speculative part of the
colonists, who look upon this unconstitutional method of taxation,
as a direful attack upon their liberties, and loudly exclaim
against the violation. What may be the result of this, and of
some other (I think I may add) ill-judged measures, I will not
undertake to determine; but this I may venture to affirm, that the
advantage accruing to the mother country will fall greatly short
of the expectations of the ministry; for certain it is, that an
whole substance does already in a manner flow to Great Britain,
and that whatsoever contributes to lessen our importations must
be hurtful to their manufacturers. And the eyes of our people,
already beginning to open, will perceive, that many luxuries,
which we lavish our substance in Great Britain for, can well be
dispensed with, whilst the necessaries of life are (mostly) to
be had within ourselves. This, consequently, will introduce
frugality, and be a necessary stimulation to industry. If Great
Britain, therefore, loads her manufacturies with heavy taxes,
will it not facilitate these measures? They will not compel us, I
think, to give our money for their exports, whether we will or
not; and certain I am, none of their traders will part from them
without a valuable consideration. Where then, is the utility of
the restrictions? As to the Stamp Act, taken in a single view, one
and the first bad consequence attending it, I take to be this,
our courts of judicature must inevitably be shut up; for it
is impossible, (or next of kin to it), under our present
circumstances, that the act of Parliament can be complied with,
were we ever so willing to enforce the execution; for, not to say,
which alone would be sufficient, that we have not money to pay the
stamps, there are many other cogent reasons, to prevent it; and if
a stop be put to our judicial proceedings, I fancy the merchants
of Great Britain, trading to the colonies, will not be among the
last to wish for a repeal of it.[1]
[Footnote 1: Ford, II, 209-10.]
This passage would suffice, were there not many similar which might be
quoted, to prove that Washington was from the start a loyal American.
A legend which circulated during his lifetime, and must have been
fabricated by his enemies, for I find no evidence to support it either
in his letters or in other trustworthy testimony, insinuated that he
was British at heart and threw his lot in with the Colonists only when
war could not be averted. In 1770 the merchants of Philadelphia
drew up an agreement in which they pledged themselves to practise
non-importation of British goods sent to America. Washington's wise
neighbor and friend, George Mason, drafted a plan of association of
similar purport to be laid before the Virginia Burgesses. But Lord
Botetourt, the new Royal Governor, deemed some of these resolutions
dangerous to the prerogative of the King, and dissolved the Assembly.
The Burgesses, however, met at Anthony Hay's house and adopted
Mason's Association. Washington, who was one of the signers of the
Association, wrote to his agents in London: "I am fully determined to
adhere religiously to it."
Five years had now elapsed since the British Tories attempted to fix
on the Colonies the Stamp Act, and although they had withdrawn
that hateful law, the relations between the Mother Country and the
Colonists had not improved. Far from it. The English issued a series
of irritating provisions which convinced the Colonists that the
Government had no real desire to be friendly, and that, on the
contrary, it intended to make no distinction between them and the
other conquered provinces of the Crown. Then and always, the English
forgot that the Colonists were men of their own stock, equally
stubborn in their devotion to principles, and probably more accessible
to scruples of conscience. So they were not likely to be frightened
into subjection. The governing class in England was in a state of mind
which has darkened its judgment more than once; the state of mind
which, when it encounters an obstacle to its plans, regards that
obstacle as an enemy, and remarks in language brutally frank, though
not wholly elegant: "We will lick him first and then decide who is
right." In 1770 King George III, who fretted at all seasons at the
slowness with which he was able to break down the ascendency of the
Whigs, manipulated the Government so as to make Lord North Prime
Minister. Lord North was a servant, one might say a lackey, after
the King's own heart. He abandoned lifelong traditions, principles,
fleeting whims, prejudices even, in order to keep up with the King's
wish of the moment. After Lord North became Prime Minister, the
likelihood of a peaceful settlement between the crown and the Colonies
lessened. He ran ahead of the King in his desire to serve the King's
wishes, and George III, by this time, was wrought up by the persistent
tenacity of the Whigs--he wished them dead, but they would not
die--and he was angered by the insolence of the Colonists who showed
that they would not shrink from forcibly resisting the King's command.
On both sides of the Atlantic a vehement and most enlightening debate
over constitutional and legal fundamentals still went on. Although
the King had packed Parliament, not all the oratory poured out at
Westminster favored the King. On the contrary, the three chief masters
of British eloquence at that time, and in all time--Edmund Burke,
William Pitt, and Charles James Fox--spoke on the side of the
Colonists. Reading the magnificent arguments of Burke to-day, we ask
ourselves how any group in Parliament could have withstood them. But
there comes a moment in every vital discussion when arguments and
logic fail to convince. Passions deeper than logic controlled motives
and actions. The Colonists contended that in proclaiming "no taxation
without representation," they were appealing to a principle of
Anglo-Saxon liberty inherent in their race. When King George, or any
one else, denied this principle, he denied an essential without which
Anglo-Saxon polity could not survive, but neither King George nor Lord
North accepted the premises. If they had condescended to reply at all,
they might have sung the hymn of their successors a hundred years
later:
"We don't want to fight,
But by jingo! if we do,
We've got the men, we've got the ships,
We've got the money too."
Meanwhile, the Virginia Planter watched the course of events, pursued
his daily business regularly, attended the House of Burgesses when it
was in session, said little, but thought much. He did not break
out into invective or patriotic appeals. No doubt many of his
acquaintances thought him lukewarm in spirit and non-committal; but
persons who knew him well knew what his decision must be. As early as
April 5, 1769, he wrote his friend, George Mason:
At a time, when our lordly masters in Great Britain will be
satisfied with nothing less than the deprivation of American
freedom, it seems highly necessary that something should be done
to avert the stroke, and maintain the liberty, which we have
derived from our ancestors. But the manner of doing it, to answer
the purpose effectually, is the point in question.
That no man should scruple, or hesitate a moment, to use a--ms in
defence of so valuable a blessing, on which all the good and evil
of life depends, is clearly my opinion. Yet a--ms, I would beg
leave to add, should be the last resource, the dernier resort.
Addresses to the throne, and remonstrances to Parliament, we have
already, it is said, proved the inefficiency of. How far, then,
their attention to our rights and privileges is to be awakened or
alarmed, by starving their trade and manufacturers, remains to be
tried.[1]
[Footnote 1: Ford, II, 263-64.]
Thus wrote the Silent Member six years before the outbreak of
hostilities, and he did not then display any doubt either of his
patriotism, or of the course which every patriot must take. To his
intimates he spoke with point-blank candor. Years later, George Mason
wrote to him:
I never forgot your declaration, when I had last the pleasure of
being at your house in 1768, that you were ready to take your
musket upon your shoulder whenever your country called upon you.
Some writers point out that Washington excelled rather as a critic of
concrete plans than of constitutional and legal aspects. Perhaps this
is true. Assuredly he had no formal legal training. There were many
other men in Massachusetts, in Virginia, and in some of the other
Colonies, who could and did analyze minutely the Colonists' protest
against taxation without representation, and the British rebuttal
thereof; but Washington's strength lay in his primal wisdom, the
wisdom which is based not on conventions, even though they be laws and
constitutions, but on a knowledge of the ways in which men will react
toward each other in their primitive, natural relations. In this
respect he was one of the wisest among the statesmen.
He does not seem to have joined in such clandestine methods as those
of the Committees of Correspondence, which Samuel Adams and some of
the most radical patriots in the Bay State had organized, but he said
in the Virginia Convention, in 1774: "I will raise one thousand men,
subsist them at my own expense and march myself at their head for the
relief of Boston."[1] The ardor of Washington's offer matched the
increasing anger of the Colonists. Lord North, abetted by the British
Parliament, had continued to exasperate them by passing new bills
which could have produced under the best circumstances only a
comparatively small revenue. One of these imposed a tax on tea. The
Colonists not only refused to buy it, but to have it landed. In Boston
a large crowd gathered and listened to much fiery speech-making.
Suddenly, a body of fifty men disguised as Mohawk Indians rushed
down to the wharves, rowed out to the three vessels in which a large
consignment of tea had been sent across the ocean, hoisted it out of
the holds to the decks and scattered the contents of three hundred and
forty chests in Boston Harbor.
[Footnote 1: _John Adams's Diary_, August 31, 1774, quoting Lynch.]
The Boston Tea Party was as sensational as if it had sprang from
the brain of a Paris Jacobin in the French Revolution. It created
excitement among the American Colonists from Portsmouth to Charleston.
Six more of the Colonies enrolled Committees of Correspondence,
Pennsylvania alone refusing to join. In every quarter American
patriots felt exalted. In England the reverse effects were signalized
with equal vehemence. The Mock Indians were denounced as incendiaries,
and the town meetings were condemned as "nurseries of sedition."
Parliament passed four penal laws, the first of which punished Boston
by transferring its port to Salem and closing its harbor. The second
law suspended the charter of the Province and added several new and
tyrannical powers to the British Governor and to Crown officials.
On September 5, 1774, the first Continental Congress met in
Philadelphia. Except Georgia, every Colony sent delegates to it. The
election of those delegates was in several cases irregular, because
the body which chose them was not the Legislature but some temporary
body of the patriots. Nevertheless, the Congress numbered some of
the men who were actually and have remained in history, the great
engineers of the American Revolution. Samuel Adams and John Adams went
from Massachusetts; John Jay and Philip Livingston from New York;
Roger Sherman from Connecticut; Thomas Mifflin and Edward Biddle from
Pennsylvania; Thomas McKean from Delaware; George Washington, Patrick
Henry, Peyton Randolph, Edmund Pendleton, and Richard H. Lee from
Virginia; and Edward and John Rutledge from South Carolina. Although
the Congress was made up of these men and of others like them, the
petitions adopted by it and the work done, not to mention the freshets
of oratory, were astonishingly mild. Probably many of the delegates
would have preferred to use fiery tongues. Samuel Adams, for instance,
though "prematurely gray, palsied in hand, and trembling in voice,"
must have had difficulty in restraining himself. He wrote as viciously
as he spoke. "Damn that Adams," said one of his enemies. "Every dip of
his pen stings like a horned snake." Patrick Henry, being asked when
he returned home, "Who is the greatest man in Congress," replied: "If
you speak of eloquence, Mr. Rutledge of South Carolina is by far the
greatest orator; but if you speak of solid information and sound
judgment, Colonel Washington is unquestionably the greatest man on
that floor." The rumor had it that Washington said, he wished to God
the Liberties of America were to be determined by a single Combat
between himself and George. One other saying of his at this time is
worth reporting, although it cannot be satisfactorily verified.
"_More blood will be spilled on this occasion_, if the ministry are
determined to push matters to extremity, _than history has ever yet
furnished instances of_ in the annals of North America." The language
and tone of the "Summary View"--a pamphlet which Thomas Jefferson had
issued shortly before--probably chimed with the emotions of most of
the delegates. They adopted (October 14, 1774) the "Declaration
of Rights," which may not have seemed belligerent enough for the
Radicals, but really leaves little unsaid. A week later Congress
agreed to an "Association," an instrument for regulating, by
preventing, trade with the English. Having provided for the assembling
of a second Congress, the first adjourned.
As a symbol, the First Congress has an integral importance in the
growth of American Independence. It marked the first time that the
American Colonies had acted together for their collective interests.
It served notice on King George and Lord North that it repudiated the
claims of the British Parliament to govern the Colonies. It implied
that it would repel by force every attempt of the British to exercise
an authority which the Colonists refused to recognize. In a very real
sense the Congress thus delivered an ultimatum. The winter of 1774/5
saw preparations being pushed on both sides. General Thomas Gage, the
British Commander-in-Chief stationed at Boston, had also thrust upon
him the civil government of that town. He had some five thousand
British troops in Boston, and several men-of-war in the harbor.
There were no overt acts, but the speed with which, on more than one
occasion, large bodies of Colonial farmers assembled and went swinging
through the country to rescue some place, which it was falsely
reported the British were attacking, showed the nervous tension under
which the Americans were living. As the enthusiasm of the Patriots
increased, that of the Loyalists increased also. Among the latter were
many of the rich and aristocratic inhabitants, and, of course, most
of the office-holders. Until the actual outbreak of hostilities they
upheld the King's cause with more chivalry than discretion, and then
they migrated to Nova Scotia and to England, and bore the penalty of
confiscation and the corroding distress of exile. In England during
this winter, Pitt and Burke had defended the Colonies and the Whig
minority had supported them. Even Lord North used conciliatory
suggestions, but with him conciliation meant that the Colonies should
withdraw all their offensive demands and kneel before the Crown in
penitent humiliation before a new understanding could be thought of.
Meanwhile Colonel Washington was in Virginia running his plantations
to the best of his ability and with his mind made up. He wrote to his
friend Bryan Fairfax (July 20, 1774):
As I see nothing, on the one hand, to induce a belief that the
Parliament would embrace a favorable opportunity of repealing
acts, which they go on with great rapidity to pass, and in order
to enforce their tyrannical system; and on the other, I observe,
or think I observe, that government is pursuing a regular plan at
the expense of law and justice to overthrow our constitutional
rights and liberties, how can I expect any redress from a measure,
which has been ineffectually tried already? For, Sir, what is it
we are contending against? Is it against paying the duty of three
pence per pound on tea because burthensome? No, it is the right
only, we have all along disputed, and to this end we have already
petitioned his Majesty in as humble and dutiful manner as subjects
could do[1]....
And has not General Gage's conduct since his arrival, (in stopping
the address of his Council, and publishing a proclamation more
becoming a Turkish bashaw, than an English governor, declaring it
treason to associate in any manner by which the commerce of Great
Britain is to be affected) exhibited an unexampled testimony of
the most despotic system of tyranny, that ever was practised in
a free government? In short, what further proofs are wanted to
satisfy one of the designs of the ministry, than their own acts,
which are uniform and plainly tending to the same point, nay, if I
mistake not, avowedly to fix the right of taxation? What hope then
from petitioning, when they tell us, that now or never is the time
to fix the matter? Shall we after this, whine and cry for relief,
when we have already tried it in vain? Or shall we supinely sit
and see one province after another fall a prey to despotism?[2]
[Footnote 1: Ford, II, 421-22.]
[Footnote 2: _Ibid_., 423-24.]
In the early autumn Washington wrote to Captain Robert MacKenzie, who
was serving in the Regular British Army with Gage at Boston:
I think I can announce it as a fact, that it is not the wish or
intent of that government, (Massachusetts) or any other upon this
continent, separately or collectively, to set up for independence;
but this you may at the same time rely on, that none of them will
ever submit to the loss of these valuable rights and privileges,
which are essential to the happiness of every free state, and
without which, life, liberty, and property are rendered totally
insecure.[1]
[Footnote 1: _Ibid_., 443.]
In the following spring the battles of Lexington and Concord, on April
19th, began the war of the American Revolution. A few weeks later, a
Second Continental Congress met in Philadelphia. The delegates to it,
understanding that they must prepare for war, proceeded to elect
a Commander-in-Chief. There was some jealousy between the men of
Virginia and those of Massachusetts. The former seemed to think that
the latter assumed the first position, and indeed, most of the angry
gestures had been made in Boston, and Boston had been the special
object of British punishment. Still, with what may seem unexpected
self-effacement, they did not press strongly for the choice of a
Massachusetts man as Commander-in-Chief. On June 15, 1775, Congress
having resolved "that a general be appointed to command all the
continental forces raised or to be raised for the defence of American
liberty," proceeded to a choice, and the ballots being taken, George
Washington, Esq., was unanimously elected. On the next day the
President of the Congress, Mr. John Hancock, formally announced the
election to Colonel Washington, who replied:
Mr. President, though I am truly sensible of the high honor
done me in this appointment, yet I feel great distress from a
consciousness that my abilities and military experience may not
be equal to the extensive and important trust. However, as the
Congress desire it, I will enter upon the momentous duty and exert
every power I possess in the service and for the support of the
glorious cause. I beg they will accept my most cordial thanks for
this distinguished testimony of their approbation. But lest some
unlucky event should happen unfavorable to my reputation, I beg it
may be remembered by every gentleman in the room, that I this day
declare with the utmost sincerity I do not think myself equal to
the command I am honored with.
As to pay, Sir, I beg leave to assure the Congress, that as no
pecuniary consideration could have tempted me to accept this
arduous employment at the expense of my domestic ease and
happiness, I do not wish to make any profit from it. I will keep
an exact account of my expenses. Those I doubt not they will
discharge, and that is all I desire.[1]
[Footnote 1: Ford, II, 477-78-79, 480-81.]
Accompanied by Lee and Schuyler and a brilliant escort, he set forth
on June 21st for Boston. Before they had gone twenty miles a messenger
bringing news of the Battle of Bunker Hill crossed them. "Did the
Militia fight?" Washington asked. On being told that they did, he
said: "Then the liberties of the country are safe." Then he pushed on,
stopping long enough in New York to appoint General Schuyler military
commander of that Colony, and so through Connecticut to the old Bay
State. There, at Cambridge, he found the crowd awaiting him and some
of the Colonial troops. On the edge of the Common, under a large elm
tree broad of spread, he took command of the first American army. It
was the second of July, 1775.