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FAMOUS AMERICAN STATESMEN
by
SARAH K. BOLTON
Author of "Poor Boys Who Became Famous," "Girls Who
Became Famous," "Famous American Authors,"
"Stories from Life," "From Heart and Nature," etc.
"A nation has no possessions so valuable as its great men,
living or dead."--HON. JOHN BIGELOW.
New York
Thomas Y. Crowell & Co.
No. 13 Astor Place
Copyright, 1888, By
Thomas Y. Crowell & Co.
Electrotyped
By C. J. Peters and Son, Boston.
Presswork by Berwick & Smith, Boston.
To
THOMAS Y. CROWELL.
RESPECTED AS A PUBLISHER
AND
ESTEEMED AS A FRIEND.
PREFACE.
"With the great, one's thoughts and manners easily become great; ...
what this country longs for is personalities, grand persons, to
counteract its materialities," says Emerson. Such lives as are sketched
in this book are a constant inspiration, both to young and old. They
teach Garfield's oft-repeated maxim, that "the genius of success is
still the genius of labor." They teach patriotism--a deeper love for and
devotion to America. They teach that life, with some definite and noble
purpose, is worth living.
I have written of Abraham Lincoln, one of our greatest and best
statesmen, in "Poor Boys Who Became Famous," which will explain its
omission from this volume.
S. K. B.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
GEORGE WASHINGTON 1
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 38
THOMAS JEFFERSON 67
ALEXANDER HAMILTON 99
ANDREW JACKSON 133
DANIEL WEBSTER 177
HENRY CLAY 230
CHARLES SUMNER 268
ULYSSES S. GRANT 307
JAMES A. GARFIELD 361
[Illustration: G. Washington signature]
GEORGE WASHINGTON.
The "purest figure in history," wrote William E. Gladstone of George
Washington.
When Frederick the Great sent his portrait to Washington, he sent with
it these remarkable words: "From the oldest general in Europe to the
greatest general in the world."
Lord Brougham said: "It will be the duty of the historian, and the sage
of all nations, to let no occasion pass of commemorating this
illustrious man; and until time shall be no more will a test of the
progress which our race has made in wisdom and virtue be derived from
the veneration paid to the immortal name of Washington."
At Bridge's Creek, Maryland, in a substantial home, overlooking the
Potomac, George Washington was born, February 22, 1732. His father,
Augustine, was descended from a distinguished family in England--William
de Hertburn, a knight who owned the village of Wessyngton (Washington).
He married, at the age of twenty-one, Jane Butler, who died thirteen
years afterward. Two years after her death he married Mary Ball, a
beautiful girl, of decided character and sterling common-sense. She
became a good mother to his two motherless children; two having died in
early childhood.
Six children were born to them, George being the eldest. The
opportunities for education in the new world, especially on a
plantation, were limited. From one of his father's tenants, the sexton
of the parish, George learned to read, write, and cipher. He was fond of
military things, and organized among the scholars sham-fights and
parades; taking the position usually of commander-in-chief, by common
consent. This love of war might have come through the influence of his
half-brother Lawrence, who had been in battles in the West Indies.
When George was twelve, his father died suddenly, leaving Mary Ball, at
thirty-seven, to care for her own five children, one having died in
infancy, and two boys by the first marriage. Fortunately, a large estate
was left them, which she was to control till they became of age.
While she loved her children tenderly, she exacted the most complete
obedience. She was dignified and firm, yet cheerful, and possessed an
unusually sweet voice. To his mother's intelligence and moral training
George attributed his success in life. She would gather her children
about her daily, and read to them from Matthew Hale's "Contemplations,
Divine and Moral." The book had been loved by the first wife, who wrote
in it, "Jane Washington." Under this George's mother wrote, "and Mary
Washington." This book was always preserved with tender care at Mount
Vernon, in later years. Such teaching the boy never forgot. When he was
thirteen, he wrote "Rules of courtesy and decent behavior in company and
conversation," one hundred and ten maxims, which seemed to have great
influence over him.
At fourteen, he desired to enter the navy, and a midshipman's warrant
was procured by his brother Lawrence. Now he could see the world, and
was happy at the prospect. All winter long, the mother's heart ached as
she thought of the separation, and finally, when his clothing had been
taken on board of a British man-of-war, her affection triumphed, and the
lad was kept in his Virginia home; kept for a great work. However
disappointed he may have been, his mother's word was law. Those who
learn to obey in youth learn also how to govern in later life. George
went back to school to study arithmetic and land-surveying. He was
thorough in his work, and his record books, still preserved, are neat
and exact.
It is never strange that a boy who idolizes his mother should think
other women lovable. At fifteen, the bashful, manly boy had given his
heart to a girl about his own age, and it was long before he could
conquer the affection. A year later he wrote to a friend, "I might, was
my heart disengaged, pass my time very pleasantly, as there's a very
agreeable young lady lives in the same house; but as that's only adding
fuel to fire, it makes me the more uneasy, for by often and unavoidably
being in company with her revives my former passion for your Lowland
Beauty; whereas, was I to live more retired from young women, I might in
some measure alleviate my sorrows, by burying that chaste and
troublesome passion in the grave of oblivion."
Years afterwards, the son of this "Lowland Beauty," General Henry Lee,
became a favorite with Washington in the Revolutionary War; possibly all
the more loved from tender recollections of the mother. General Lee was
the father of General Robert E. Lee of the Confederate Army, in the
Civil War.
At sixteen, the real work of Washington's life began. Lord Fairfax of
Virginia desired his large estates beyond the Blue Ridge to be surveyed,
and he knew that the youth had the courage to meet the Indians in the
wilderness, and would do his work well.
Washington and a friend set out on horseback for the valley called by
the Indians Shenandoah, "the daughter of the stars." He made a record
daily of the beauty of the trees--every refined soul loves trees almost
as though they were human--and the richness of the soil, and selected
the best sites for townships. In his diary he says, "A blowing, rainy
night, our straw upon which we were lying took fire, but I was luckily
preserved by one of our men awaking when it was in a flame." For three
years he lived this exposed life, sleeping out-of-doors, gaining
self-reliance, and a knowledge of the Indians, which knowledge he was
soon to need.
Trouble had begun already in the Ohio valley, between the French and
English, in their claims to the territory. No wonder a sachem asked,
"The French claim all the land on one side of the Ohio, the English
claim all the land on the other side--now, where does the Indians' land
lie?"
Virginia began to make herself ready for a war which seemed inevitable.
She divided her province into military districts, and placed one in
charge of the young surveyor, only nineteen, who was made adjutant
general with the rank of major. Thus early did the sincere, self-poised
young man take upon himself great responsibilities. Washington at once
began to make himself ready for his duties, by studying military
tactics; taking lessons in field-work from his brother Lawrence, and
sword exercise from a soldier. This drill was broken in upon for a time
by the illness and death of Lawrence, of whom he was very fond, and whom
he accompanied to the Barbadoes. Here George took small-pox, from which
he was slightly marked through life. The only child of Lawrence soon
died, and Mount Vernon came to George by will. He was now a person of
wealth, but riches did not spoil him. He did not seek ease; he sought
work and honor.
Matters were growing worse in the Ohio valley. The Virginians had
erected forts at what is now Pittsburg; and the French, about fifteen
miles south of Lake Erie. Governor Dinwiddie determined to make a last
remonstrance with the French who should thus presume to come upon
English territory. The way to their forts lay through an unsettled
wilderness, a distance of from five hundred to six hundred miles. Some
Indian tribes favored one nation; some the other. The governor offered
this dangerous commission--a visit to the French--to several persons,
who hastened to decline with thanks the proffered honor.
Young Washington, with his brave heart, was willing to undertake the
journey, and started September 30, 1753, with horses, tents, and other
necessary equipments. They found the rivers swollen, so that the horses
had to swim. The swamps, in the snow and rain, were almost impassable.
At last they arrived at the forts, early in December. Washington
delivered his letter to the French, and an answer was written to the
governor.
On December 25, Washington and his little party started homeward. The
horses were well-nigh exhausted, and the men dismounted, put on Indian
hunting-dress, and toiled on through the deepening snow. Washington, in
haste to reach the governor, strapped his pack on his shoulders, and,
gun in hand, with one companion, Mr. Gist, struck through the woods,
hoping thus to reach the Alleghany River sooner, and cross on the ice.
At night they lit their camp-fire, but at two in the morning they
pursued their journey, guided by the north star.
Some Indians now approached, and offered their services as guides. One
was chosen, but Washington soon suspected that they were being guided in
the wrong direction. They halted, and said they would camp for the
night, but the Indian demurred, and offered to carry Washington's gun,
as he was fatigued. This was declined, when the Indian grew sullen,
hurried forward, and, when fifteen paces ahead, levelled his gun and
fired at Washington. Gist at once seized the savage, took his gun from
him, and would have killed him on the spot had not the humane Washington
prevented. He was sent home to his cabin with a loaf of bread, and told
to come to them in the morning with meat. Probably he expected to return
before morning, and, with some other braves, scalp the two Americans;
but Washington and Gist travelled all night, and reached the Alleghany
River opposite the site of Pittsburg.
Unfortunately, the river was not frozen as they had hoped, but was full
of broken ice. All day long they worked to construct a raft, with but
one hatchet between them. After reaching the middle of the river the men
on the raft were hurled into ten feet of water by the floating ice, and
Washington was saved from drowning only by clinging to a log. They lay
till morning on an island in the river, their clothes stiff with frost,
and the hands and feet of poor Gist frozen by the intense cold. The
agony of that night Washington never forgot, even in the horrors of
Valley Forge.
Happily, the river had grown passable in the night, and they were able
to cross to a place of safety. He came home as speedily as possible and
delivered the letter to Governor Dinwiddie. His journal was sent to
London and published, because of the knowledge it gave of the position
of the French. The young soldier of twenty-one had escaped death from
the burning straw in surveying, from the Indian's gun, and from
drowning. He had shown prudence, self-devotion, and heroism. "From that
moment," says Irving, in his delightful life of Washington, "he was the
rising hope of Virginia." And he was the rising hope of the new world as
well.
The polite letter brought by Washington to the governor had declared
that no Englishmen should remain in the Ohio valley! Dinwiddie at once
determined to send three hundred troops against the French, and offered
the command to Washington. He shrunk from the charge, and it was given
to Colonel Fry, while he was made second in command. Fry soon died, and
Washington was obliged to assume control. He was equal to the occasion.
He said, "I have a constitution hardy enough to encounter and undergo
the most severe trials, and, I flatter myself, resolution enough to face
what any man dares, as shall be proved when it comes to the test."
The test soon came. In the conflict which followed he was in the
thickest of the fight, one man being killed at his side. He wrote to his
brother, "I heard the bullets whistle, and, believe me, there is
something charming in the sound." Years afterward, he said, when he had
long known the sorrows of war, "If I said that, it was when I was
young."
At Great Meadows, below Pittsburg, he was defeated by superior numbers,
and obliged to evacuate the fort, but the Virginia House of Burgesses
thanked him for his bravery.
The next year, England sent out General Braddock, who had been over
forty years in the service, a fearless but self-willed officer, to take
command of the American forces. Washington gladly joined him as an
aide-de-camp. They set out with two thousand soldiers, toward Fort du
Quesne (Pittsburg). The amount of baggage astonished Washington, who
well knew the swamps and mountains that must be crossed, but Braddock
could not be influenced. He remarked to Benjamin Franklin, "These
savages may indeed be a formidable enemy to raw militia, but upon the
king's regular and disciplined troops, sir, it is impossible they should
make an impression." How great an "impression" savages could make upon
the "king's regular and disciplined troops" was soon to be shown.
The march was exceedingly difficult. Sometimes a whole day was spent in
cutting a passage of two miles over the mountains. Washington urged
that the Virginia Rangers be put to the front, as they understood
Indian warfare. The general haughtily opposed it, and the regulars in
brilliant uniforms, bayonets fixed, colors flying, and drums beating,
swept over the open plain to battle, July 9, 1755.
Suddenly there was a cry, "The French and Indians!" The Indian yell
struck terror to the hearts of the regulars. They fired in all
directions, killing their own men. A panic ensued. Braddock tried to
rally his men; even striking them with the flat of his sword. Five
horses were killed under him. At last a bullet entered his lungs, and he
fell, mortally wounded. Then the men fled precipitately, falling over
their dead comrades. Out of eighty-six officers, twenty-six were killed
and thirty-six wounded. Nearly half of the whole army were dead or
disabled. The Virginia Rangers covered the retreat of the flying
regulars, and thus saved a remnant. Braddock, bequeathing his horse and
servant, Bishop, to Washington, died broken-hearted, moaning, "Who would
have thought it!... We shall better know how to deal with them another
time." Washington tenderly read the funeral service, and Braddock was
buried in the new and wild country he had come to save.
Washington escaped as by a miracle. He wrote his brother, "By the
all-powerful dispensations of Providence, I have been protected beyond
all human probability or expectation; for I had four bullets through my
coat, and two horses shot under me, yet escaped unhurt, though death
was levelling my companions on every side of me." Through life, this
man, great in all that mankind prize, loved and believed in the
Christian religion. Agnosticism had no charms for him.
Washington returned to Mount Vernon temporarily broken in health, and
his fond mother, who was living at the old homestead, wrote begging that
he would not again enter the service. In reply he said, "Honored Madam,"
for thus he always addressed her, "if it is in my power to avoid going
to the Ohio again, I shall; but if the command is pressed upon me by the
general voice of the country, and offered upon such terms as cannot be
objected against, it would reflect dishonor on me to refuse it; and
that, I am sure, must and ought to give you greater uneasiness than my
going in an honorable command."
Braddock's defeat electrified the colonies. Governor Dinwiddie at once
called for troops, and Washington was made "commander-in-chief of all
the forces raised or to be raised in Virginia." For two years he
protected the people in the attacks of the Indians; his heart so full of
pity that he wrote the governor, "I solemnly declare, if I know my own
mind, I could offer myself a willing sacrifice to the butchering enemy,
provided that would contribute to the people's ease." No wonder that
such self-sacrifice and unselfishness won the homage of the State, and
later of the nation.
In May, 1758, the condition of the army was such, the men so poorly
clad and paid, that the young commander decided to go to Williamsburg to
lay the matter before the council. In crossing the Pamunkey, a branch of
the York River, he met a Mr. Chamberlayne, who pressed him to dine, more
especially as a charming lady was visiting at his house. He accepted the
invitation, and there met Martha Custis, a widow of twenty-six, two
months younger than himself; a bright, frank, agreeable woman, with dark
eyes and hair, below the middle size, a contrast indeed to his striking
physique, six feet two inches tall, blue eyes, and grave demeanor.
Martha Dandridge, with amiable disposition and winning manners, had been
married at seventeen to Daniel Parke Custis, thirty-eight, a
kind-hearted and wealthy land-owner. For seven years they lived at "The
White House," on the Pamunkey River, where he died, leaving two
children, John Parke and Martha Parke Custis. Mrs. Custis had come to
visit the Chamberlaynes, and now was to meet the most popular officer in
Virginia.
The dinner passed pleasantly, and then Bishop, the servant, brought
Colonel Washington's horse and his own to the gate at the appointed
hour. But Colonel Washington did not appear. The afternoon seemed like a
dream, for love takes no account of time. The sun was setting when he
rose to go, but Major Chamberlayne urged his guest to pass the night.
Probably he did not need to be urged, for the most sublime and
beautiful force in all the world now controlled the fearless
Washington. The next morning he hastened to Williamsburg, transacted his
business, returned to the home of Martha Custis, where he spent a day
and a night, and left her his betrothed.
The commander went back to camp with a new joy in living. The army was
now ordered against Fort du Quesne, under Brigadier-General Forbes of
Great Britain; Washington leading the Virginia troops. He seized a
moment before leaving to write to Mrs. Custis, which letter Lossing
gives in his interesting lives of Mary and Martha Washington:--
"A courier is starting for Williamsburg, and I embrace the
opportunity to send a few words to one whose life is now
inseparable from mine. Since that happy hour when we made our
pledges to each other, my thoughts have been continually going to
you as to another self. That an all-powerful Providence may keep us
both in safety is the prayer of your ever faithful and
"Ever affectionate friend,
"G. WASHINGTON."
The army marched again over the field where the bones of Braddock's men
were bleaching in the sun, and approached the fort, only to find that
the French had deserted it after setting it on fire, and retreated down
the river. Washington, who led the advance, planted the British flag
over the smoking ruin of what is now Pittsburg, so called from the
illustrious William Pitt. With the French driven out of the Ohio valley,
Washington, having served five years in the army, resigned, and married
Martha Custis, January 6, 1759. Every inch a soldier he must have looked
in his suit of blue cloth lined with red silk, and ornamented with
silver trimmings; while his bride wore white satin, with pearl necklace
and ear-rings, and pearls in her hair. She rode home in a coach drawn by
six horses, while Colonel Washington, on a fine chestnut horse, attended
by a brilliant cortege, rode beside her carriage.
The year previous, 1758, Washington had been elected a member of the
Virginia Assembly. When he took his seat, the House gave him an address
of welcome. He rose to reply, trembled, and could not say a word. "Sit
down, Mr. Washington," said the speaker; "your modesty equals your
valor, and that surpasses the power of any language I possess."
Beautiful attributes of character, not always found in conjunction;
valor and modesty!
For three months Washington remained at the home of his wife, to attend
to the business of the colony; becoming also guardian of her two pretty
children, four and six years of age, whom he seemed to love as his own.
When he took his bride to Mount Vernon to live, he wrote to a relative,
"I am now, I believe, fixed in this spot 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."
For seventeen years he lived on his estate of eight thousand acres,
delighting in agriculture, and enjoying the development of the two
children. The years passed quickly, for affection, the holiest thing on
earth, brought rest and contentment. He or she is rich who possesses it.
To have millions, and yet live in a home where there is no affection, is
to be poor indeed.
He was an early riser; in winter often lighting his own fire, and
reading by candle-light; retiring always at nine o'clock. He was
vestryman in the Episcopal Church, and judge of the county court, as
well as a member of the House of Burgesses. So honest was he that a
barrel of flour marked with his name was exempted from the usual
inspection in West India ports.
Into this busy and happy life came sorrow, as it comes into other lives.
Martha Parke Custis, a gentle and lovely girl, died of consumption at
seventeen, Washington kneeling by her bedside in prayer as her life went
out. The love of both parents now centred in the boy of nineteen, John
Parke Custis, who, the following year, left Columbia College to marry a
girl of sixteen, Eleanor Calvert. While Washington attended the wedding,
Mrs. Washington could not go, in her mourning robes, but sent an
affectionate letter to her new daughter.
The quiet life at Mount Vernon was now to be wholly changed. The Stamp
Act and the oppressive taxes had stirred America. When the taxes were
repealed, save that on tea, and Lord North was urged to include tea
also, he said: "To temporize is to yield; and the authority of the
mother country, if it is not now supported, will be relinquished
forever; _a total repeal cannot be thought of till America is prostrate
at our feet_." Mrs. Washington, like other lovers of liberty, at once
ceased to use tea at her table.
When the First Continental Congress met at Philadelphia, September 5,
1774, Washington was among the delegates chosen by Virginia. He rode
thither on horseback, with his brilliant friends Patrick Henry and
Edmund Pendleton. When they departed from Mount Vernon, the patriotic
Martha Washington said: "I hope you will all stand firm. I know George
will.... God be with you, gentlemen."
To a relative, who wrote deprecating Colonel Washington's "folly," his
wife answered: "Yes; I foresee consequences--dark days, and darker
nights; domestic happiness suspended; social enjoyments abandoned;
property of every kind put in jeopardy by war, perhaps; neighbors and
friends at variance, and eternal separations on earth possible. But what
are all these evils when compared with the fate of which the Port Bill
may be only a threat? My mind is made up, my heart is in the cause.
George is right; he is always right. God has promised to protect the
righteous, and I will trust him." Blessings on the woman who, in the
darkest hour, knows how to be as the sunlight in her hope and trust, and
to be well-nigh a divine embodiment of courage and fortitude! Truly
said Schiller: "Honor to women! they twine and weave the roses of heaven
into the life of man."
Congress remained in session fifty-one days. When the results of its
labors were put before the House of Lords, the great Chatham said: "When
your lordships look at the papers transmitted to us from America; when
you consider their decency, firmness, and wisdom, you cannot but respect
their cause, and wish to make it your own. For myself, I must declare
and avow that, in the master states of the world, I know not the people,
or senate, who, in such a complication of difficult circumstances, can
stand in preference to the delegates of America assembled in General
Congress at Philadelphia."
When Patrick Henry was asked, on his return home, who was the greatest
man in Congress, he 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." Wise reading in all these years had given
Washington "solid information," and "sound judgment" was partly an
inheritance from noble Mary Washington.
People all through New England were arming themselves. General Gage, who
had been sent to Boston with British troops, said: "It is surprising
that so many of the other provinces interest themselves so much in this.
They have some warm friends in New York, and I learn that the people of
Charleston, South Carolina, are as mad as they are here." He was soon to
possess a more thorough knowledge of the American character.
The Boston troops, under Gage, numbered about four thousand. He
determined to destroy the military stores at Concord, on the night of
April 18, 1775. It was to be done secretly, but as soon as the British
regiment started, under Colonel Smith and Major Pitcairn, for Concord,
the bells of Boston rang out, cannon were fired, and Paul Revere, with
Prescott and Davis, rode at full speed in the bright moonlight to
Lexington, to alarm the neighboring country. When cautioned against
making so much noise, Revere replied: "You'll have noise enough here
before long--the regulars are coming out."
Long before morning, nearly two-score of the villagers, under Captain
Parker, gathered on the green, near the church, waiting for the
red-coats, who came at double-quick, Major Pitcairn exclaiming,
"Disperse, ye villains! Lay down your arms, ye rebels, and disperse!"
Unmoved, Captain Parker said to his men, "Don't fire unless you are
fired on; but if they want a war, let it begin here." The Revolutionary
War began there, to end only when America should be free. Seven
Americans were killed, nine wounded, and the rest were put to flight;
but the blood shed on Lexington Green made liberty dear to every heart.
The British now marched to Concord, where, in the early morning, they
found four hundred and fifty men gathered to receive them. Captain
Isaac Davis, who said, when his company led the force, "I haven't a man
that is afraid to go," was killed at the first shot, at the North
Bridge.
The British troops destroyed all the stores they could find, though most
had been removed, and then started toward Boston. All along the road the
indignant Americans fired upon them from behind stone fences and clumps
of bushes. Tired by their night march, having lost three hundred in
killed and wounded, over three times as many as the Americans, they were
glad to meet Lord Percy coming to their rescue with one thousand men. He
formed a hollow square, and, faint and exhausted, the soldiers threw
themselves on the ground within it, and rested.
The whole country seemed to rise to arms. Men came pouring into Boston
with such weapons as they could find. Noble Israel Putnam of Connecticut
left his plough in the field and hastened to the war.
May 10, Congress again met at Philadelphia. They sent a second petition
to King George, which John Adams called an "imbecile measure." They made
plans for the support of the army already gathered at Cambridge from the
different States. Who should be the commander of this growing army? Then
John Adams spoke of the gentleman from Virginia, "whose skill and
experience as an officer, whose independent fortune, great talents, and
excellent universal character, would command the approbation of all
America, and unite the cordial exertions of all the colonies better than
any other person in the Union." June 5, Washington was unanimously
elected commander-in-chief.
Rising in his seat, and thanking Congress, he modestly said: "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, 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 of it. I will keep an exact account of my
expenses. Those, I doubt not, they will discharge, and that is all I
desire." He wrote to his wife: "I should enjoy more real happiness in
one month with you at home than I have the most distant prospect of
finding abroad if my stay were to be seven times seven years. But as it
has been a kind of destiny that has thrown me upon this service, I shall
hope that my undertaking it is designed to answer some good purpose....
I shall feel no pain from the toil or danger of the campaign; my
unhappiness will flow from the uneasiness I know you will feel from
being left alone." No wonder Martha Washington loved him; so brave that
he could meet any danger without fear, yet so tender that the thought of
leaving her brought intense pain.
He was now forty-three; the ideal of manly dignity. He at once started
for Boston. Soon a courier met him, telling him of the battle of Bunker
Hill--how for two hours raw militia had withstood British regulars,
killing and wounding twice as many as they lost, and retreating only
when their ammunition was exhausted. When Washington heard how bravely
they had fought, he exclaimed: "The liberties of the country are safe."
Under the great elm (still standing) at Cambridge, Washington took
command of the army, July 3, 1775, amid the shouts of the multitude and
the roar of artillery. His headquarters were established at Craigie
House, afterward the home of the poet Longfellow. Here Mrs. Washington
came later, and helped to lessen his cares by her cheerful presence.
The soldiers were brave but undisciplined; the terms of enlistment were
short, thus preventing the best work. To provide powder was well-nigh an
impossibility. For months Washington drilled his army, and waited for
the right moment to rescue Boston from the hands of the British.
Generals Howe, Clinton, and Burgoyne had been sent over from England.
Howe had strengthened Bunker Hill, and, with little respect for the
feelings of the Americans, had removed the pulpit and pews from the Old
South Church, covered the floor with earth, and converted it into a
riding-school for Burgoyne's light dragoons. They did not consider the
place sacred, because it was a "meeting-house where sedition had often
been preached."
The "right moment" came at last. In a single night the soldiers
fortified Dorchester Heights, cannonading the enemy's batteries in the
opposite direction, so that their attention was diverted from the real
work. When the morning dawned of March 5, 1776, General Howe saw,
through the lifting fog, the new fortress, with the guns turned upon
Boston. "I know not what to do," he said. "The rebels have done more
work in one night than my whole army would have done in one month."
He resolved to attack the "rebels" by night, and for this attack
twenty-five hundred men were embarked in boats. But a violent storm set
in, and they could not land. The next day the rain poured in torrents,
and when the second night came Dorchester Heights were too strong to be
attacked. The proud General Howe was compelled to evacuate Boston with
all possible dispatch, March 17, the navy going to Halifax and the army
to New York. The Americans at once occupied the city, and planted the
flag above the forts. Congress moved a vote of thanks to Washington, and
ordered a gold medal, bearing his face, as the deliverer of Boston from
British rule.
The English considered this a humiliating defeat. The Duke of
Manchester, in the House of Lords, said: "British generals, whose name
never met with a blot of dishonor, are forced to quit that town, which
was the first object of the war, the immediate cause of hostilities, the
place of arms, which has cost this nation more than a million to
defend."
The Continental Army soon repaired to New York. Washington spared no
pains to keep a high moral standard among his men. He said, in one of
his orders: "The general is sorry to be informed that the foolish and
wicked practice of profane cursing and swearing--a vice heretofore
little known in an American army--is growing into fashion. He hopes the
officers will, by example as well as influence, endeavor to check it,
and that both they and the men will reflect that we can have little hope
of the blessing of Heaven on our arms if we insult it by our impiety and
folly. Added to this, it is a vice so mean and low, without any
temptation, that every man of sense and character detests and despises
it." Noble words!
Great Britain now realized that the fight must be in earnest, and hired
twenty thousand Hessians to help subjugate the colonies. When Admiral
Howe came over from England, he tried to talk about peace with "Mr."
Washington, or "George Washington, Esq.," as it was deemed beneath his
dignity to acknowledge that the "rebels" had a general. The Americans
could not talk about peace, with such treatment.
Soon the first desperate battle was fought, on Long Island, August 27,
1776, partly on the ground now occupied by Greenwood Cemetery, between
eight thousand Americans and more than twice their number of trained
Hessians. Washington, from an eminence, watched the terrible conflict,
wringing his hands, and exclaiming, "What brave fellows I must this day
lose!"
The Americans were defeated, with great loss. Washington could no longer
hold New York with his inadequate forces. With great energy and
promptness he gathered all the boats possible, and then, so secretly
that even his aides did not know his intention, nine thousand men,
horses, and provisions, were ferried over the East River. A heavy fog
hung over the Brooklyn side, as though provided by Providence, while it
was clear on the New York side, so that the men could form in line.
Washington crossed in the last boat, having been for forty-eight hours
without sleep.
In the morning, the astonished Englishmen learned that the prize had
escaped. A Tory woman, the night before, seeing that the Americans were
crossing the river, sent her colored servant to notify the British. A
Hessian sentinel, not understanding the servant, locked him up till
morning, when, upon the arrival of an officer, his errand was known; but
the knowledge came too late!
On October 28, the Americans were again defeated, at White Plains, Howe
beginning the engagement. The condition of the Continental Army was
disheartening. They were half-fed and half-clothed; the "ragged rebels,"
the British called them. There was sickness in the camp, and many were
deserting. Washington said, "Men just dragged from the tender scenes of
domestic life, unaccustomed to the din of arms, totally unacquainted
with every kind of military skill, are timid, and ready to fly from
their own shadows. Besides, the sudden change in their manner of living
brings on an unconquerable desire to return to their homes." So
great-hearted was the commander-in-chief, though on the field of battle
he had no leniency toward cowards.
Washington retreated across New Jersey to Trenton. When he reached the
Delaware River, filled with floating ice, he collected all the boats
within seventy miles, and transported the troops, crossing last himself.
Lord Cornwallis, of Howe's army, came in full pursuit, reached the river
just as the last boat crossed, and looked in vain for means of
transportation. There was nothing to be done but to wait till the river
was frozen, so that the troops could cross on the ice.
Washington, December 20, 1776, told John Hancock, President of Congress,
"Ten days more will put an end to the existence of our army." Yet, on
the night of December 25, Christmas, with almost superhuman courage, he
determined to recross the Delaware, and attack the Hessians at Trenton.
The weather was intensely cold. The boats, in crossing, were forced out
of their course by the drifting ice. Two men were frozen to death. At
four in the morning, the heroic troops took up the line of march, the
snow and sleet beating in their faces. Many of the muskets were wet and
useless. "What is to be done?" asked the men. "Push on, and use the
bayonet," was the answer.
At eight in the morning, the Americans rushed into the town. "The enemy!
the enemy!" cried the Hessians. Their leader, Colonel Rahl, fell,
mortally wounded. A thousand men laid down their arms and begged for
quarter. Washington recrossed the Delaware with his whole body of
captives, and the American nation took heart once more. That fearful
crossing of the Delaware, in the blinding storm, and the sudden yet
marvellous victory which followed, will always live among the most
pathetic and stirring scenes of the Revolution. A few days later,
January 3, 1777, with five thousand men, Washington defeated Cornwallis
at Princeton, exposing himself so constantly to danger that his officers
begged him to seek a place of safety.
The third year of the Revolutionary War had opened. France, hating
England, sympathizing with America in her struggle for liberty, and
being encouraged in this sympathy by the honored Benjamin Franklin,
loaned us money, supplied muskets and powder, and many troops under such
brave leaders as Lafayette and De Kalb. The year 1777, although our
forces were defeated at Brandywine and Germantown, witnessed the defeat
of a part of Burgoyne's army at Bennington, Vermont, and, on the 17th of
October, the remaining part at Saratoga; over five thousand men, seven
thousand muskets, and a great quantity of military stores. Two months
later, France made a treaty of alliance with the United States, to the
joy of the whole country.
On December 11, Washington went into winter-quarters at Valley Forge, on
the west side of the Schuylkill, about twenty miles from Philadelphia.
Trees were felled to build huts, the men toiling with scanty food, often
barefoot, the snow showing the marks of their bleeding feet. Continental
money had so depreciated that forty dollars were scarcely equal in value
to one silver dollar. Sickness was decreasing the forces. Washington
wrote to Congress: "No less than two thousand eight hundred and
ninety-eight men are now in camp unfit for duty, because they are
barefoot and otherwise naked." From lack of blankets, he said, "numbers
have been obliged, and still are, to sit up all night by fires, instead
of taking comfortable rest in a natural and common way." A man less
great would have been discouraged, but he trusted in a power higher than
himself, and waited in sublime dignity and patience for the progress of
events. Martha Washington had come to Valley Forge to share in its
privations, and to minister to the sick and the dying.
The years 1778 and 1779 dragged on with their victories and defeats. The
next year, 1780, the country was shocked by the treason of Benedict
Arnold, who, having obtained command at West Point, had agreed to
surrender it to the British for fifty thousand dollars in money and the
position of brigadier-general in their army. On September 21, Sir Henry
Clinton sent Major John Andre, an adjutant-general, to meet Arnold. He
went ashore from the ship Vulture, met Arnold in a wood, and completed
the plan. When he went back to the boat, he found that a battery had
driven her down the river, and he must return by land. At Tarrytown, on
the Hudson, he was met by three militiamen, John Paulding, David
Williams, and Isaac Van Wart, who at once arrested him, and found the
treasonable papers in his boots. He offered to buy his release, but
Paulding assured him that fifty thousand dollars would be no temptation.
Andre was at once taken to prison. While there he won all hearts by his
intelligence and his cheerful, manly nature. He had entered the British
army by reason of a disappointment in love. The father of the young lady
had interfered, and she had become the second wife of the father of
Maria Edgeworth. Andre always wore above his heart a miniature of Honora
Sneyd, painted by herself. Just before his execution as a spy, he wrote
to Washington, asking to be shot. When he was led to the gallows,
October 2, 1780, and saw that he was to be hanged, for a moment he
seemed startled, and exclaimed, "How hard is my fate!" but added, "It
will soon be over." He put the noose about his own neck, tied the
handkerchief over his eyes, and, when asked if he wished to speak, said
only: "I pray you to bear witness that I meet my fate like a brave
man." His death was universally lamented. In 1821, his body was removed
to London by the British consul, and buried in Westminster Abbey.
Every effort was made to capture Arnold, but without success. He once
asked an American, who had been taken prisoner by the British, what his
countrymen would have done with him had he been captured. The immediate
reply was: "They would cut off the leg wounded in the service of your
country, and bury it with the honors of war. The rest of you they would
hang."
In 1781, the condition of affairs was still gloomy. Some troops mutinied
for lack of pay, but when approached by Sir Henry Clinton, through two
agents, offering them food and money if they would desert the American
cause, the agents were promptly hanged as spies. Such was the patriotism
of the half-starved and half-clothed soldiers.
In May of this year, Cornwallis took command of the English forces in
Virginia, destroying about fifteen million dollars worth of property.
Early in October, Washington with his troops, and Lafayette and De
Rochambeau with their French troops, gathered at Yorktown, on the south
bank of the York River. For ten days the siege was carried on. The
French troops rendered heroic service. Washington was so in earnest that
one of his aids, seeing that he was in danger, ventured to suggest that
their situation was much exposed. "If you think so, you are at liberty
to step back," was the grave response of the general. Shortly
afterwards a musket-ball fell at Washington's feet. One of his generals
grasped his arm, exclaiming, "We can't spare you yet." When the victory
was finally won, Washington drew a long breath and said, "The work is
done and well done." Cornwallis surrendered his whole army, over seven
thousand soldiers, October 19, 1781.
The American nation was thrilled with joy and gratitude. Washington
ordered divine service to be performed in the several divisions, saying,
"The commander-in-chief earnestly recommends that the troops not on duty
should universally attend, with that seriousness of deportment and
gratitude of heart which the recognition of such reiterated and
astonishing interpositions of Providence demands of us." Congress
appointed a day of thanksgiving and prayer, and voted two stands of
colors to Washington and two pieces of field-ordnance to the brave
French commanders. When Lord North, Prime Minister of England, heard of
the defeat of the British, he exclaimed, "Oh, God! it is all over!"
The nearly seven long years of war were ended, and America had become a
free nation.
The articles of peace between Great Britain and the United States were
not signed till September 3, 1783. On November 4 the army was disbanded,
with a touching address from their idolized commander. On December 4, in
the city of New York, in a building on the corner of Pearl and Broad
Streets, Washington said good-bye to his officers, losing for a time his
wonderful self-command. "I cannot come to each of you to take my leave,"
he said, "but shall be obliged if each of you will come and take me by
the hand." Tears filled the eyes of all, as, silently, one by one, they
clasped his hand in farewell, and passed out of his sight.
Then Washington repaired to Annapolis, where Congress was assembled, and
at twelve o'clock on the 23d of December, before a crowded house,
offered his resignation. "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 long acted, I
here offer my commission, and take my leave of all the employments of
public life." "Few tragedies ever drew so many tears from so many
beautiful eyes," said one who was present.
The beloved general returned to Mount Vernon, to enjoy the peace and
rest which he needed, and the honor of his country which he so well
deserved. John Parke Custis, Mrs. Washington's only remaining child, had
died, leaving four children, two of whom--Eleanor, two years old, and
George Washington, six months old--the general adopted as his own. These
brought additional "sweetness and light" into the beautiful home.
The following year the Marquis de Lafayette was a guest at Mount Vernon,
and went to Fredericksburg to bid adieu to Washington's mother. When he
spoke in high praise of the man whom he so loved and honored, Mary
Washington replied quietly, "I am not surprised at what George has done,
for he was always a good boy." Blessed mother-heart, that, in training
her child, could look into the future, and know, for a certainty, the
result of her love and progress! She died August 25, 1789.
Three years later--May 25, 1787--a convention met at Philadelphia to
form a more perfect union of the States, and frame a Constitution.
Washington was made President of this convention. He had long been
reading carefully the history and principles of ancient and modern
confederacies, and he was intelligently prepared for the honor accorded
him. When the Constitution was finished, and ready for his signature, he
said: "Should the United States reject this excellent Constitution, the
probability is that an opportunity will never again be offered to cancel
another in peace; the next will be drawn in blood."
When the various States, after long debate, had accepted the
Constitution, a President must be chosen, and that man very naturally
was the man who had saved the country in the perils of war. On the way
to New York, then the seat of government, Washington received a perfect
ovation. The bells were rung, cannon fired, and men, women, and children
thronged the way. Over the bridge crossing the Delaware the women of
Trenton had erected an arch of evergreen and laurel, with the words,
"The defender of the mothers will be the protector of the daughters."
As he passed, young girls scattered flowers before him, singing grateful
songs. How different from that crossing years before, with his worn and
foot-sore army, amid the floating ice!