THE BEGINNING SIGNS OF A GREAT REVOLUTION
I. MILITARY VICTORY AND A HAPPY MARRIAGE
Washington now had charge of the advance on Fort Duquesne. He left
Loyal Hannon over the road Major Grant had taken. The whole fifty
miles were strewn with the bones of oxen, horses and men. What
remained of the bodies of their comrades, they buried. Then they
arrived at the scene of Braddock’s defeat, where the same duty was
done for the dead, a sad reminder of the folly of arrogance and
ambition in commanders.
They had expected to have a hard fight for the capture of Fort
Duquesne. But the success of the English in Canada, and the fall of
Fort Frontenac had left the French at Fort Duquesne without any chance
for supplies or reinforcements. The fort was already at the point of
being abandoned from necessity. Accordingly, the commander waited
until the English were within a day’s march of him, when he withdrew
his force of five hundred men, destroyed what he could not take away,
set fire to all that would burn, embarked at night in their long,
light batteaux, by the flames of their fort, and floated down the
Ohio, giving up their hopeless fight for the possession of the Ohio
Valley.
On the morning of November 5, 1758, Washington with his advanced guard
marched in and hoisted the British flag over the ruins. The enemy was
gone. The Indians having lost the support of their French friends
withdrew into the depths of the forest.
Washington rebuilt the place, garrisoned it with two hundred men and
named it Fort Pitt in honor of the illustrious British minister,
William Pitt.
Washington’s military schooling, if we may so term it, in the light of
great events to follow, was now ended. He had been engaged for
marriage several months with Mrs. Martha Custis, a widow of the
noblest womanly character, and considerable wealth. The marriage was
accordingly celebrated January 6, 1759, the month before he was
twenty-seven years of age. He now settled down, away from war, into
the life of a business man, as his mother, herself a business woman,
had so fondly desired.
The objects for which the French and Indian war had begun were now
achieved for the colonists. But England was carrying the war further,
aiming at nothing less than the conquest of Canada. The first gun had
been fired at Washington at the time he was beaten in the race with
the French for the forks of the Ohio. The last gun was fired at Quebec
when all Canada became a possession seized by might of the British
arms.
The French were greatly grieved at their loss, but their great
statesmen prophesied that it was a fatal victory for the English
mastery of North America.
The Duke de Choiseul said that it would awaken the colonies to their
liberty and their power. It would bring the ideals of the wilderness
in sharp contrast with the imperialism of England. “They will no
longer need her protection,” said he, “she will call on them to
contribute toward supporting the burdens they have helped bring on
her, and they will answer by striking off their dependence.”
How true this was as a prophecy, the school histories all show to
every pupil of the schools, who will try to get a view of the progress
and development of historical events. Fact will then be stranger than
fiction, and history will be a more romantic story, richer in the
lessons of life, than any novel.
II. LIFE FULFILLED AS A VIRGINIA COUNTRY GENTLEMAN
Washington, after his marriage, at the close of the French and Indian
war, became, as his mother had so long desired him to be, a country
gentleman, not only with a large land-ownership, but also dignified
with a seat in the legislative assembly of Virginia. He was rich,
happily married and a hero! What more was to be desired in the heart
of man!
On the day when Washington took his seat in the House of Burgesses,
the speaker of the assembly arose and eloquently presented the thanks
of the colony for the distinguished military services rendered by
their fellow-member to his country, and especially to the welfare of
Virginia.
Washington arose at the conclusion of the eulogy to express his
appreciation for what had been spoken in his honor.
It is said that he “blushed--stammered--trembled, and could not utter
a word.”
“Sit down, Mr. Washington,” said the speaker, “your modesty equals
your valor, and that surpasses the power of any language I possess.”
During the session of the Virginia legislature, Washington lived at
the White House, as was called the home of his bride, and which was
situated on her estate, near Williamsburg. That home has since been
immortalized as the name of the Home of the Presidents of the United
States.
Mrs. Martha Custis was one of the wealthiest women in the English
colonies when she married George Washington. At her request, the
General Court appointed Washington the guardian of her boy of six and
her girl of four, and the manager of all her property.
His friends had long wanted him to visit England, believing,
doubtless, from special information, that great honors awaited him
there. No doubt there was in easy reach the usually much-coveted
political preferment, such as might have made him beholden to the King
through all his future career. But we are perhaps entitled to believe
that Washington’s views of those honors were not qualified by the
grateful respect that was necessary. An American of his honor and
character probably cherished the good will of his countrymen as
superior to any royal condescension.
To these suggestions for a visit to England, he returned a
characteristic reply, “I am now, I believe, fixed in this seat, with
an agreeable partner for life, and I hope to find more happiness in
retirement than I ever experienced in the wide and bustling world.”
At the end of the session of the Virginia legislature, Washington and
his family left the “White House” and made their home at Mount Vernon.
Here he fully believed he was settled in a life of happiness and
peace. It was the home of his childhood which he had spent with his
beloved mother and his half-brother Lawrence.
This home on the beautiful highlands of the Potomac was indeed the
center of a little empire. It was a system of cultured, wealthy
people, graded on down to the colored servants, in which everything
needed for luxury, pleasure or enterprise was made and ready on the
grounds.
The home life of the Washington family is a revelation of the
aristocratic democracy of the times. Many a story is told showing the
wilderness culture and luxury mingled with the common interests of the
lowly life.
The treaty of peace, now including all affairs in the colonies, which
was signed in 1763, between England and France, was greeted as a happy
ending of all border troubles for the colonies. But, unfortunately, it
seemed to let loose the savagery of the Indians, whose tribes were now
going to pieces before the advancing English Settlements. The right to
the wilderness was a hand-to-hand conflict, in which the pioneer
frontiersmen won the great victory for modern civilization.
III. THE MOMENTOUS STRUGGLE BETWEEN MIGHT AND RIGHT
The border warfare continued as ferociously as ever before.
Washington, being out of military life, with heavy business
responsibilities upon him, did not become involved in these conflicts.
Meanwhile, the prediction of the Duke de Choiseul that the colonies
would rapidly see they had no need of England, and would as rapidly
cease to fear its military power, was coming true. Irritation followed
fast upon irritation, and arrogance bred resentment and retaliation so
rapidly that it requires many a volume to tell it all. The colonists
had to fight the battles of the border warfare, pay the costs, support
the arrogant officers sent across the water, and yet find themselves
regarded as inferiors fit only as producers for a land across the sea.
But it should be understood from the beginning that history deals
mainly with the makers of history who have been almost exclusively
generals and kings. The commoners, except as their minds are
state-made, have no quarrel with the commoners of other countries.
The first outbreak came against taxes placed on personal necessities
in which the people had no rights or voice. The resentment was
crystallized into an outcry against “taxation without representation.”
The bitter feeling found voice in a daring defiance uttered by Patrick
Henry. He brought forward a resolution in the Virginia House of
Burgesses, declaring that the General Assembly of Virginia had the
exclusive right and power to lay taxes upon the people of Virginia,
and that whoever claimed to the contrary was an enemy of the colony.
With that view the commoners of England were in general sympathy,
including many of the most influential men in that country. But the
British court was foreign, that is, continental. History tells us that
King George the First, grandfather of George the Third, could speak
only his native German, and held in profound contempt the English
people.
The Speaker of the House tried to have Patrick Henry’s resolution
modified as being too strong, but, in his speech for the resolution,
the young orator, after a brilliant address, concluded with the
memorable and history-making words, “Cæsar had his Brutus; Charles his
Cromwell; and George the Third,--(here cries of ‘Treason! Treason!’
was heard) may profit by their example. Sir, if this be
treason----(here he bowed to the Speaker)--make the most of it!”
The idea of liberty to make their own laws had now sprung forth, and
it was taken up with immense enthusiasm throughout the colonies.
The British Parliament seemed to look upon the colonies as Braddock
had done upon the colonial soldiers,--they were only half-civilized
inferiors, and suitable only for menial service or to contribute
profit to the mother country. Accordingly, month by month and year by
year, the interference and resentment on both sides increased, by the
passage of obnoxious laws on one side, and resistance to their
enforcement on the other side.
All this time, Washington was in the midst of the turmoil, not as a
leader but more as a peacemaker, though always in full sympathy with
the fast growing American idea. As we take a swift view of those
times, we are apt to suppose that the change of mind, uniting the
colonies in opposition to Great Britain, came suddenly and
unanimously, but, as in all places and situations, where there is
freedom of thinking, the general conviction came slowly, especially
the conviction to use force in the defense of the rights of of man as
learned in the hard freedom of the wilderness. What we might call the
high-water mark of mind, in favor of force for maintaining colonial
liberty, was that of Patrick Henry, whose slogan was “Give me liberty
or give me death.”
On the other hand, there were many, from the aristocratic mansion
to the log cabin in the forest, who looked upon force against the
mother country as a horror and a crime. Between these extremes,
Washington labored for patience among the colonists and a change of
policy among the law-makers of Great Britain. In writing to his wife’s
uncle, an influential man in London, he said, “The Stamp Act 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.”
[Illustration: Washington Surrendering His Commission.]
In the New England colonies, the people were far more fierce in their
resentment toward the requirement that they must buy stamps to make
legal almost every transaction. This method of getting money for the
British government was so offensive to Boston that a publicly
encouraged mob hanged the stamp distributor in effigy, the windows of
his house were broken, and the building to be used as his office was
broken to pieces, and the fragments burned in the streets. The
officers of the town, trying to disperse the crowd, were driven away
with stones. The next morning the stamp distributor renounced his
office in the public square and no one could be found willing to take
his place.
Down in Virginia, the stamp distributor did not try to fulfill his
office, but came on to Williamsburg and amidst much applause publicly
denounced the Stamp Act and vacated the office.
On the first of November, 1765, when the act was to become law and go
into operation, there was tolling of bells throughout New England.
Ships in the harbors displayed their flags at half-mast. Shops were
shut, business was suspended, and every form of defiance they could
invent was displayed all day and that night.
At New York, the poster announcing the law was stuck on a pole, under
a death’s head, from which floated a banner bearing the inscription,
“The folly of England and ruin of America.” The lieutenant-governor
with all his official household went into the fort and surrounded
himself with marines from a ship of war. Then the mob went to his
stables, brought out his carriage, put his effigy into it, dragged it
up and down the street till they were tired, and then hung his effigy
on a gallows. That evening they took the effigy down, put it again
into the carriage, this time by the side of an image of the devil, had
a howling torch-light procession to Bowling Green, and there, under
the guns of the fort, burned the carriage with the effigies in it. So
bitter and so general was the disapproval that no one attempted to
enforce the law.