inexplicable on any other ground than partial insanity. No matter what
may be said in extenuation, Arnold committed the greatest crime known to
civilized nations. He contrived to escape the just doom which awaited
him, and, from having become traitor, even proceeded to enter the active
service of the enemy and to raise his hand against the country which,
but for these crimes, would have held him in honorable remembrance. The
heart of English-speaking nations has ever been moved to compassion for
the unfortunate fate of the messenger who conducted the treasonable
correspondence between Arnold and Clinton,--one of the most accomplished
officers in the British army, Major André. No influence--not even his
deeply moved sympathy--could induce Washington to interfere with the
decision of the court-martial that André should be hanged as a spy, so
dangerous did the commander deem the attempted treachery. The English
have erected to the unfortunate officer a monument in Westminster Abbey.
The contemplated surrender of West Point to the enemy suggests the
demoralization which the war had already produced, and which was
deplored by no one more bitterly than by Washington himself. "If I were
called upon," he writes, "to draw a picture of the times and of men,
from what I have seen, heard, and in part know, I should in one word say
that idleness, dissipation, and extravagance seem to have laid fast hold
of most of them; that speculation, peculation, and an insatiable thirst
for riches seem to have got the better of every other consideration...;
that party disputes and personal quarrels are the great business of the
day; whilst the momentous concerns of an empire, an accumulating debt,
ruined finances, depreciated money, and want of credit ... are but
secondary considerations."
All war produces naturally and logically this demoralization, especially
in countries under a republican government. Profanity, drunkenness, and
general recklessness as to money matters were everywhere prevailing
vices; and this demoralization was, in the eyes of Washington, more to
be dreaded than any external dangers that had thus far caused alarm and
distress. "I have," wrote he, "seen without despondency even for a
moment, the hours which America has styled her gloomy ones; but I have
beheld no day since the commencement of hostilities that I have thought
her liberties were in such imminent danger as at present."
"He had faced," says Henry Cabot Lodge, in his interesting life of
Washington, "the enemy, the bleak winters, raw soldiers, and all the
difficulties of impecunious government, with a cheerful courage that
never failed. But the spectacle of wide-spread popular demoralization,
of selfish scramble for plunder, and of feeble administration at the
centre of government, weighed upon him heavily." And all this at the
period of the French alliance, which it was thought would soon end the
war. Indeed, hostilities were practically over at the North, and hence
the public lassitude. Nearly two years had passed without an
important battle.
When Clinton saw that no hope remained of subduing the Americans, the
British government should have made peace and recognized the
independence of the States. But the obstinacy of the king of England was
phenomenal, and his ministers were infatuated. They could not reconcile
themselves to the greatness of their loss. Their hatred of the rebels
was too bitter for reason to conquer. Hitherto the contest had not been
bloody nor cruel. Few atrocities had been committed, except by the
rancorous Tories, who slaughtered and burned without pity, and by the
Indians who were paid by the British government. Prisoners, on the
whole, had been humanely treated by both the contending armies, although
the British prison-ships of New York and their "thousand martyrs" have
left a dark shadow on the annals of the time. Neither in Boston nor New
York nor Philadelphia had the inhabitants uttered loud complaints
against the soldiers who had successively occupied their houses, and who
had lived as comfortably and peaceably as soldiers in English garrison
towns. Some villages had been burned, but few people had been
massacred. More inhumanity was exhibited by both Greeks and Turks in the
Greek Revolution in one month than by the forces engaged during the
whole American war. The prime minister of England, Lord North, was the
most amiable and gentle of men. The brothers Howe would fain have
carried the olive-branch in one hand while they bore arms in the other.
It seemed to be the policy of England to do nothing which would inflame
animosities, and prevent the speedy restoration of peace. Spies of
course were hanged, and traitors were shot, in accordance with the
uniform rules of war. I do not read of a bloodthirsty English general in
the whole course of the war, like those Russian generals who overwhelmed
the Poles; nor did the English generals seem to be really in earnest, or
they would have been bolder in their operations, and would not have been
contented to be shut up for two years in New York when they were
not besieged.
At length Clinton saw he must do something to satisfy the government at
home, and the government felt that a severer policy should be introduced
into warlike operations. Clinton perceived that he could not penetrate
into New England, even if he could occupy the maritime cities. He could
not ascend the Hudson. He could not retain New Jersey. But the South was
open to his armies, and had not been seriously invaded.
As Washington personally was not engaged in the military operations at
the South, I can make only a passing allusion to them. It is not my
object to write a history of the war, but merely to sketch it so far as
Washington was directly concerned. The South was left, in the main, to
defend itself against the raids which the British generals made in its
defenceless territories, and these were destructive and cruel. But Gates
was sent to cope with Cornwallis and Tarleton. Washington himself could
not leave his position near New York, as he had to watch Clinton, defend
the Hudson, and make journeys to Philadelphia to urge Congress to more
vigorous measures. Congress, however, was helpless and the State
governments were inactive.
In the meantime, early in May, 1780, Charleston, S.C., was abandoned to
the enemy,--General Lincoln, who commanded, finding it indefensible. In
September the news came North of the battle of Camden and the defeat of
Gates, who showed an incompetency equal to his self-sufficiency, and
Congress was obliged to remove him. Through Washington's influence, in
December, 1780, Greene was appointed to succeed him; had the chief's
advice been followed earlier he would have been sent originally instead
of Gates. Greene turned the tide, and began those masterly operations
which led to the final expulsion of the English from the South, and,
under the guiding mind and firm hand of Washington, to the surrender of
Cornwallis.
On January 17, 1781, Morgan won a brilliant victory at Cowpens, S.C.,
which seriously embarrassed Cornwallis; and then succeeded a vigorous
campaign between Cornwallis and Greene for several months, over the
Carolinas and the borders of Virginia. The losses of the British were so
great, even when they had the advantage, that Cornwallis turned his face
to the North, with a view of transferring the seat of war to Chesapeake
Bay. Washington then sent all the troops he could spare to Virginia,
under La Fayette. He was further aided by the French fleet, under De
Grasse, whom he persuaded to sail to the Chesapeake. La Fayette here did
good service, following closely the retreating army. Clinton failed to
reinforce Cornwallis, some say from jealousy, so that the latter felt
obliged to fortify himself at Yorktown. Washington, who had been
planning an attack on New York, now continued his apparent preparations,
to deceive Clinton, but crossed the Hudson on the 23d of August, to
co-operate with the French fleet and three thousand French troops in
Virginia, to support La Fayette. He rapidly moved his available force by
swift marches across New Jersey to Elkton, Maryland, at the head of
Chesapeake Bay. The Northern troops were brought down the Chesapeake in
transports, gathered by great exertions, and on September 28 landed at
Williamsburg, on the Yorktown Peninsula. Cornwallis was now hemmed in by
the combined French and American armies. Had he possessed the control of
the sea he might have escaped, but as the fleet commanded the Chesapeake
this was impossible. He had well fortified himself, however, and on the
5th of October the siege of Yorktown began, followed on the 14th by an
assault. On the 19th of October, 1781, Cornwallis was compelled to
surrender, with seven thousand troops. The besieging army numbered about
five thousand French and eleven thousand Americans. The success of
Washington was owing to the rapidity of his movements, and the influence
which, with La Fayette, he brought to bear for the retention at this
critical time and place of the fleet of the Count de Grasse, who was
disposed to sail to the West Indies, as D'Estaing had done the year
before. Washington's keen perception of the military situation,
energetic promptness of action, and his diplomatic tact and address in
this whole affair were remarkable.
The surrender of Cornwallis virtually closed the war. The swift
concentration of forces from North and South was due to Washington's
foresight and splendid energy, while its success was mainly due to the
French, without whose aid the campaign could not have been concluded.
The moral and political effect of this "crowning mercy" was prodigious.
In England it broke up the ministry of Lord North, and made the English
nation eager for peace, although it was a year or two before hostilities
ceased, and it was not until September 3, 1783, that the treaty was
signed which Franklin, Adams, and Jay had so adroitly negotiated. The
English king would have continued the contest against all hope,
encouraged by the possession of New York and Charleston, but his
personal government practically ceased with the acknowledgment of
American independence.
The trials of Washington, however, did not end with the great victory at
Yorktown. There was a serious mutiny in the army which required all his
tact to quell, arising from the neglect of Congress to pay the troops.
There was greater looseness of morals throughout the country than has
been generally dreamed of. I apprehend that farmers and mechanics were
more profane, and drank, _per capita_, more cider and rum for twenty
years succeeding the war than at any other period in our history. It was
then that it was intimated to Washington, in a letter from his friend
Colonel Louis Nicola, that the state of the country and the impotence of
Congress made it desirable that he should seize the government, and,
supported by the army, turn all the confusion into order,--which
probably would have been easy for him to do, and which would have been
justified by most historical writers. But Washington repelled the idea
with indignation, both for himself and the army; and not only on this
occasion but on others when disaffection was rife, he utilized his own
popularity to arouse anew the loyalty of the sorely tried patriots, his
companions in arms. Many are the precedents of usurpation on the part of
successful generals, and few indeed are those who have voluntarily
abdicated power from lofty and patriotic motives. It was this virtual
abdication which made so profound an impression on the European
world,--even more profound than was created by the military skill which
Washington displayed in the long war of seven years. It was a rare
instance of magnanimity and absence of ambition which was not without
its influence on the destinies of America, making it almost impossible
for any future general to retain power after his work was done, and
setting a proud and unique example of the superiority of moral
excellence over genius and power.
Washington is venerated not so much for his military genius and success
in bringing the war to a triumphant conclusion, as for his patriotism
and disinterestedness, since such moral worth as his is much rarer and
more extraordinary than military fame. Fortunately, his devotion to the
ultimate welfare of the country, universally conceded, was supreme
wisdom on his part, not only for the land he loved but for himself, and
has given him a name which is above every other name in the history of
modern times. He was tested, and he turned from the temptation with
abhorrence. He might, and he might not, have succeeded in retaining
supreme power,--the culmination of human ambition; but he neither sought
nor desired it. It was reward enough for him to have the consciousness
of virtue, and enjoy the gratitude of his countrymen.
Washington at last persuaded Congress to do justice to the officers and
men who had sacrificed so much for their country's independence; in
spite of the probability of peace, he was tireless in continuing
preparations for effective war. He was of great service to Congress in
arranging for the disbandment of the army after the preliminary treaty
of peace in March, 1783, and guided by wise counsel the earlier
legislation affecting civil matters in the States and on the frontiers.
The general army was disbanded November 3; on November 25 the British
evacuated New York and the American authorities took possession; on
December 4 Washington bade farewell to his assembled officers, and on
the 23d he resigned his commission to Congress,--a patriotic and
memorable scene. And then he turned to the placidities of domestic life
in his home at Mount Vernon.
But this life and this home, so dear to his heart, it was not long
permitted him to enjoy. On the formation and adoption of the Federal
Constitution, in 1789, he was unanimously chosen to be the first
president of the United States.
In a preceding lecture I have already presented the brilliant
constellation of statesmen who assembled at Philadelphia to construct
the fabric of American liberties. Washington was one of them, but this
great work was not even largely his. On June 8, 1783, he had addressed a
letter to the governors of all the States, concerning the essential
elements of the well-being of the United States, which showed the early,
careful, and sound thought he had given to the matter of what he termed
"an indissoluable union of the States under one Federal head." But he
was not a great talker, or a great writer, or a pre-eminently great
political genius. He was a general and administrator rather than an
original constructive statesman whose work involved a profound knowledge
of law and history. No one man could have done that work; it was the
result of the collected wisdom and experience of the nation,--of the
deliberations of the foremost intellects from the different
States,--such men as Hamilton, Madison, Wilson, Rutledge, Dickinson,
Ellsworth, and others. Jefferson and Adams were absent on diplomatic
missions. Franklin was old and gouty. Even Washington did little more
than preside over the convention; but he stimulated its members, with
imposing dignity and the constant exercise of his pre-eminent personal
influence, to union and conciliation.
So I turn to consider the administrations of President Washington, the
policy of which, in the main, was the rule of the succeeding
presidents,--of Adams and "the Virginia dynasty."
The cabinet which he selected was able and illustrious; especially so
were its brightest stars,--Jefferson as Secretary of State, and Hamilton
as Secretary of the Treasury, to whose opinions the President generally
yielded. It was unfortunate that these two great men liked each other so
little, and were so jealous of each other's ascendency. But their
political ideas diverged in many important points. Hamilton was the
champion of Federalism, and Jefferson of States' Rights; the one,
politically, was an aristocrat, and the other, though born on a
plantation, was a democrat. Washington had to use all his tact to keep
these statesmen from an open rupture. Their mutual hostility saddened
and perplexed him. He had selected them as the best men for their
respective posts, and in this had made no mistake; but their opposing
opinions prevented that cabinet unity so essential in government, and
possibly crippled Washington himself. This great country has produced no
administration comprising four greater men than President Washington,
the general who had led its armies in a desperate war; Vice-President
John Adams, the orator who most eloquently defined national rights;
Jefferson, the diplomatist who managed foreign relations on the basis of
perpetual peace; and Hamilton, the financier who "struck the rock from
which flowed the abundant streams of national credit." General Knox,
Secretary of War, had not the intellectual calibre of Hamilton and
Jefferson, but had proved himself an able soldier and was devoted to his
chief. Edmund Randolph, the Attorney-General, was a leading lawyer in
Virginia, and belonged to one of its prominent families.
Outside the cabinet, the judiciary had to be filled, and Washington made
choice of John Jay as chief-justice of the Supreme Court,--a most
admirable appointment,--and associated with him the great lawyers,
Wilson of Pennsylvania, Cushing of Massachusetts, Blair of Virginia,
Iredell of North Carolina, and Rutledge of South Carolina,--all of whom
were distinguished, and all selected for their abilities, without regard
to their political opinions.
It is singular that, as this country has advanced in culture and
population, the men who have occupied the highest positions have been
inferior in genius and fame,--selected, not because they were great, but
because they were "available," that is, because they had few enemies,
and were supposed to be willing to become the tools of ambitious and
scheming politicians, intriguing for party interests and greedy for the
spoils of office. Fortunately, or providentially, some of these men
have disappointed those who elevated them, and have unexpectedly
developed in office both uncommon executive power and still rarer
integrity,--reminding us of those popes who have reigned more like foxes
and lions than like the asses that before their elevation sometimes they
were thought to be.
Trifling as it may seem, the first measure of the new government
pertained to the etiquette to be observed at receptions, dinners, etc.,
in which there was more pomp and ceremony than at the present time.
Washington himself made a greater public display, with his chariot and
four, than any succeeding president. His receptions were stately. The
President stood with dignity, clad in his velvet coat, never shaking
hands with any one, however high his rank. He walked between the rows of
visitors, pretty much as Napoleon did at the Tuileries, saying a few
words to each; but people of station were more stately and aristocratic
in those times than at the present day, even in New England towns.
Washington himself was an old-school gentleman of the most formal sort,
and, although benevolent in aspect and kindly in manner, was more
tenacious of his dignity than great men usually are. This had been
notable throughout the war. His most intimate friends and daily
associates, his most prominent and trusted generals, patriotic but
hot-headed complainants, turbulent malcontents,--all alike found him
courteous and considerate, yet hedged about with an impassive dignity
that no one ever dared to violate. A superb horseman, a powerful and
active swordsman, an unfailing marksman with rifle or pistol, he never
made a display of these qualities; but there are many anecdotes of such
prowess in sudden emergencies as caused him to be idolized by his
companions in arms, while yet their manifestations of feeling were
repressed by the veneration imposed upon all by his lofty
personal dignity.
Thus also as President. It was no new access of official pomposity, but
the man's natural bearing, that maintained a lofty reserve at these
public receptions. Possibly, too, he may have felt the necessity of
maintaining the prerogative of the Federal head of all these
independent, but now united, States. Hence, on his visit to Boston, soon
after his inauguration, he was offended with John Hancock, then
governor of Massachusetts, for neglecting to call on him, as etiquette
certainly demanded. The pompous, overrated old merchant, rich and
luxurious, though a genuine patriot, perhaps thought that Washington
would first call on him, as governor of the State; perhaps he was
withheld from his official duty by an attack of the gout; but at last he
saw the necessity, and was borne on men's shoulders into the presence of
the President.
In considering the vital points in the administration of Washington the
reader will not expect to find any of the spirited and exciting elements
of the Revolutionary period. The organization and ordering of
governmental policies is not romantic, but hard, patient, persevering
work. All questions were yet unsettled,--at least in domestic matters,
such as finance, tariffs, and revenue. One thing is clear enough, that
the national debt and the State debts and the foreign debt altogether
amounted to about seventy-five million dollars, the interest on which
was unpaid by reason of a depleted treasury and want of credit, which
produced great financial embarrassments. Then there were grave Indian
hostilities demanding a large military force to suppress them, and there
was no money to pay the troops. And when Congress finally agreed, in the
face of great opposition, to adopt the plans of Hamilton and raise a
revenue by excise on distilled spirits, manufactured chiefly in
Pennsylvania, there was a rebellion among the stubborn and warlike
Scotch-Irish, who were the principal distillers of whiskey, which
required the whole force of the government to put down.
In the matter of revenue, involving the most important of all the
problems to be solved, Washington adopted the views of Hamilton, and
contented himself with recommending them to Congress,--a body utterly
inexperienced, and ignorant of the principles of political economy.
Nothing was so unpopular as taxation in any form, and yet without it the
government could not be carried on. The Southern States wanted an
unrestricted commerce, amounting to "free trade," that they might get
all manufactured articles at the smallest possible price; and these came
chiefly from abroad. All import duties were an abomination to them, and
yet without these a national revenue could not be raised. It is true
that Washington had recommended the encouragement of domestic
manufactures, the dependence of country on foreigners for nearly all
supplies having been one of the chief difficulties of the war, but the
great idea of "protection" had not become a mooted point in national
legislation.
Hamilton had further proposed a bank, but this also met with great
opposition in Congress among the anti-Federalists and the partisans of
Jefferson, fearful and jealous of a moneyed power. In the end the
measures which Hamilton suggested were generally adopted, and the good
results were beginning to be seen, but the financial position of the
country for several years after the formation of the Federal government
was embarrassing, if not alarming.
Again, there was no national capital, and Congress, which had begun its
labors in New York, could not agree upon the site, which was finally
adopted only by a sort of compromise,--the South accepting the financial
scheme of Hamilton if the capital should be located in Southern
territory. All the great national issues pertaining to domestic
legislation were in embryo, and no settled policy was possible amid so
many sectional jealousies.