Part 2

Early in the spring, however, he emerged from his retreat, and consented, while retaining his former rank, to accompany General Braddock as a volunteer. He was received with flattering respect, and prepared to take part in the expedition against Fort Duquesne; when, unfortunately, he was prostrated by a fever, which rendered his consignment to the baggage-wagon and the physician’s care a matter of necessity: but he was sufficiently recovered in a fortnight to bear arms in the bloody battle of the Monongahela. Beautiful and impressive was the array of British troops on that memorable morning as the little army marched in order, with high hopes and ardent anticipations, the sun gleaming on their burnished arms. On one side was a flowing river, and on the other a shadowy forest. Suddenly, at noon, ere the rear had well crossed at a ford, they were attacked with fatal dexterity――the foe firing at a distance from behind trees, and practicing all the stratagems of Indian warfare. The general, disdaining to imitate such tactics, was mortally wounded; his two aides-de-camp were disabled; sixty-three out of eighty-six officers were killed and wounded; seven hundred private soldiers met with similar fates: but Washington seemed to have a charmed life. He rode about in all directions, and exerted himself with the utmost courage. He was a conspicuous mark for the enemy’s sharp-shooters, and four bullets went through his coat; yet, though his companions fell in heaps around, he escaped unhurt. The nut-brown riflemen, old and young, singled him out; but with as little effect as, at Torquilstone, the arrows of the English archers had on the Milan steel of the bold leader of free lances. The idea of preternatural protection occurred to their superstitious imaginations; and as the Scottish Covenanters believed that General Dalziel possessed a diabolical charm against steel, and that Claverhouse was guaranteed against lead by the enemy of mankind, so the Indian warriors concluded that Washington was under the especial guardianship of the Great Spirit, and they ceased their efforts to slay him. Thus, although the day was most disastrous, he gained much praise by the valor, energy, and resolution he had exhibited throughout. He was instanced, even in pulpits, as preserved by a wise Providence to confer some signal benefit on his country; his public reputation rose high; the Legislature voted him a sum of money for his services; and when the local regiment was increased to sixteen companies, he was nominated their commander-in-chief. Being now intrusted with responsible functions, he devoted himself to the fulfillment of them with much care and foresight; and he procured the passing of a law to insure proper regularity and discipline. While thus gravely occupied, he had a dispute concerning precedence with an officer holding King George’s commission; and in order to solve the difficulty, which was at once vexatious and perplexing, he had to undertake a journey to Boston, to obtain the opinion of General Shirley, commander of His Majesty’s forces in America, who unhesitatingly decided the point in Washington’s favor, and held serious and important conversation with him as to the plan of operations for the next campaign. Much curiosity was evinced, in the places through which he passed, to see the individual who had, at the early age of twenty-three, won so much renown for his bravery, and who was regarded as remarkable for the escape he had recently made. And there he was――a gallant and dignified cavalier, rather more than six feet in height, with long limbs, and a slender but erect and well-proportioned form――making an equestrian excursion of five hundred miles in the depth of winter, with two trusty comrades. He remained for some time at New York; and while there he had to encounter in a family circle――the most perilous of all arenas――a blooming damsel, whose charms, more effectual than the bullets of Indians, penetrated to his heart, and made so deep an impression that, after going to Boston, he returned and lingered till called away by the stern voice of duty. Doubtless reciprocal emotions fluttered in the gentle breast of the attractive nymph; but, as usual, the course of his love did not run quite smoothly: his hopes blossomed but to die. In a few months he was informed that a formidable rival was in the field, and the citadel in the utmost danger. Besides, it was intimated that, if he wished to save the coveted prize, he must make his appearance forthwith. Washington, absorbed with “the harsh duties of severe renown,” or despairing of success, failed to comply with this friendly suggestion; the fair lady――a “cynosure of neighboring eyes”――did not, perhaps, excessively relish his apparent coolness; and his lucky competitor, being thus in undisputed possession of the ground, marched onward, with flying colors, to a connubial triumph.

Our hero, however, was not idle. If, like the rival of young Lochinvar, he had been “a laggard in love,” he was no “dastard in war.” The army had, on his return, received a considerable augmentation; and though the nature of his operations was unfavorable to the acquisition of much martial glory, he excited respect and admiration by the signal ability and ingenious resource he constantly displayed. Yet in modern, no less than in ancient times, abuse and calumny are essential parts of triumph; and they were now busy with the character and career of the successful young soldier. Some vituperative rumors were, it is stated, finally traced to the intrigues of the wily Scots, who clustered in ambitious expectancy, and in a “dark impenetrable ring,” around their consanguineous governor. The excellent qualities of Washington’s heart, his sensible modesty and honest frankness, were the best antidotes to the poison; but the labors attaching to his office were so arduous, that his health gave way; his physician insisted on a temporary retirement; and betaking himself to his estate, he underwent a feverish illness, which preyed upon him for months.

On recovering his strength, Washington resumed his military career. The accession of Mr. Pitt, afterward the great Earl of Chatham, to the English ministry, had inspired life and vigor into the struggle; a new expedition against Fort Duquesne was planned; and the place falling into the hands of the British troops, was named Fort Pitt, in honor of the mighty War Minister. When this happened, Washington resigned his command and returned to Virginia, as he had previously resolved to do in case of the enterprise being crowned with victory.

His affections, twice baffled in their objects, were now to find the peace and repose not seldom, even in the case of men of strong minds, essential to the achievement of great and memorable actions. Mrs. Custis, a widow lady, at this time resided in the vicinity of the provincial capital. She was still in the bloom of youth, gayety, and beauty, distinguished by wealth, affability, and attractions, and dignified with the maternity of two children. Besides, she possessed in rare perfection the domestic graces and accomplishments which, in the opinion of persons whom experience has divested of glowing romance, constitute the true fascination of woman. This flower of the female sex was, indeed, a being too captivating not to have wooers; and amidst social life and festive enjoyments few, perhaps, could have perused her various charms without admiration. Washington’s noble bearing and sage conversation could hardly fail to make an impression on the gentle heart which her fair form enshrined. He came, saw, and conquered; and, in the beginning of 1759, they were happily united. Being now in possession of quiet leisure, Washington, with his matronly bride, settled at Mount Vernon, to which he had succeeded since the decease of his brother. The tranquil mansion-house was a most agreeable residence. In front was a spacious lawn, bounded by blossoming orchards and pleasant gardens, which reposed in the shade of thriving trees, and were watered by the broad and deep Potomac. The domestic habits of the owner of the domain were uniform, and characterized by a regularity from which he seldom deviated. He rose with the sun, and retired early to rest. His attention was chiefly given to agriculture, in which, in accordance with a strong natural inclination, he had always taken a lively interest. His land was devoted, for the most part, to the growth of tobacco, which he exported to be sold in the English markets. The life of an ordinary Virginia planter was, at that date, somewhat monotonous. He lived during the whole year on his own land, which, in most cases, lay so near some of the large rivers that ships sailed almost to his door, and received the produce of his farm to swell the imports into distant emporiums. In practicing hospitality, he was generally so profuse that inns were utterly useless. Weary wayfarers, even without introduction, had only to call at the nearest proprietor’s house, with the certainty of being heartily welcomed and cheerfully entertained. He might not indeed be, and seldom was, rolling in wealth; but that point the guest would soon hear explained with emphasis. Every colonist availed himself of his privilege as a British subject to complain loudly that British merchants, by some process or other, contrived to appropriate the better part of his just profits; and even Washington, however different from his neighbors in other respects, scrutinized accounts with a sharpness which shows that he was not altogether without his suspicions.

The hospitality of the great colonial soldier was displayed on a scale of magnificence which must have tended to relieve the dullness; and when at home, he seldom allowed a day to pass without having visitors of intelligence and distinction. Moreover, he had a keen relish for field-sports. He hunted, at the proper season, twice or thrice a-week; was fond of the excitement and recreation which a fox-chase afforded; was familiar with the use of his fowling-piece; signalized his expertness against the game which abounded in his preserved grounds, and fought as courageously in an affray with poachers as he had ever done in a battle with the French. He was always eager to be useful, and took a particular interest in the affairs of his parish. He was recognized by the people in his neighborhood as a man of extraordinary candor and judgment; insomuch that when they became involved in quarrels, which there appeared no prospect of otherwise settling amicably, they were in the habit of resorting to him as a last appeal, and submitting the case to his reason, justice, and decision, just as his school-fellows had done in other days:

“His doom contending neighbors sought―― Content with equity unbought.”

Indeed, his wish to act without fear, favor, or affection, when thus consulted, and to promote peace and concord, was so evident, that few uttered an audible murmur against his arbitration.

On relinquishing his military employment, he had been returned as a member of the House of Burgesses, and for a period of fifteen years was successful at each election. It was a rule with him through life to execute with unflinching diligence any duty he undertook; and as a representative his attendance was punctual and exemplary in the extreme. He seldom spoke; he had no longing for oratorical conflict, and altogether refrained from entering into stormy discussions; but his acute perception, earnest judgment, and sage prescience, gave him an influence in the assembly which his wordy, brawling, and disputatious compeers struggled and strove for in vain. He was in the habit of studying attentively, and forming opinions with scrupulous impartiality on the chief subjects under deliberation. In this respect, _Nunquam non paratus_ might have been his motto. Thus, when the Stamp Act was imposed on the colonies by Mr. Grenville, he at once assumed a position of antagonism to the infliction, and concurred with firmness and determination in the measures of opposition adopted by America. From this, and his high reputation, he was chosen to command the independent companies of militia which the colonists had hitherto been privileged and encouraged to raise; he was sent as a delegate to the Virginia Convention, and afterward elected as a member of the general Congress, in whose proceedings he acted a prominent and influential part.

When the second Congress assembled, in 1775, it presented an array of “fierce faces threatening war.” Blood had already been shed; at Lexington had commenced that contest which, with few intermissions, lasted for eight years. The English crown was, at a perilous crisis, found without competent advisers; Wisdom cried aloud in public places, without being regarded; and American senators openly and boisterously invoked the God of battles. Civil strife, fierce and bloody, was inevitable; and in this emergency Washington was chosen Commander-in-chief of the forces raised to carry on the momentous struggle. Yet it can not be supposed that this great man contemplated a separation from the mother-country without a pang. Even Jefferson, at this date, declared that in the whole empire there was no individual who more cordially loved the union with Great Britain than himself; and hardly any one competent to form an opinion on such a subject can conceive that Washington, who had given such tokens of patriotism, was less loyal in his sentiments. His forefathers had fought on famous fields, and in walled cities, for the crown of England; he himself had won his laurels under her lion-flag against her hereditary enemies; and he was, moreover, a man of faith, breeding, and refinement. With such a person, considerations of such a nature are not readily banished or suppressed, and there can be little doubt that his patriot soul was often tossed with contending emotions; like the Saxon nobles whom the Conqueror, with fire and sword, drove into the Scottish territory, who felt no respect for the Norman line of kings, but whose hearts lingered about the scenes where their progenitors had held sway and created civilization. The tastes and associations of Washington might well have led him, had an option been granted, to side with the imperial cause. But the course pursued by Lord North, who, as a statesman, ever displayed more wit than wisdom, and whom neither the sagacious warnings of Burke nor the vehement declamation of Chatham could awaken from a sleepy stupidity, left him no choice. He believed that his native plains must either be drenched in blood or inhabited by slaves; he regarded it as a sad alternative: but he did not falter or hesitate in his course. With engaging diffidence in his own powers he accepted the responsible position offered; and repairing to Cambridge, where the insurgent army lay, he proceeded to remodel and improve it to the best of his ability. In the interval Bunker’s Hill had been fought. The victory remained with the Loyalists; but the engagement had convinced them that the foe was not to be despised. Subsequent events fully confirmed this opinion; and General Howe being under the necessity of abandoning Boston, Washington was received by the inhabitants with significant enthusiasm.

Soon after, the Declaration of Independence was published; but events inauspicious to the cause of the colonists now came onward in rapid succession. The defeat at Long Island filled their ranks with such dismay and consternation as put their general’s invincible resolution to a severe test. New York was straightway relinquished by them, with considerable loss; a defeat was sustained at Chatterton’s Hill; Fort Washington was lost; and General Lee was taken prisoner. This was a period to try the souls of those who had taken up arms against taxation without representation. Their operations had proved unexpectedly disastrous; their army had melted away till it seemed but a shadow of its former self; pardon had been proclaimed in the King’s name to all who would return to their allegiance. Many persons of wealth, consideration, and respectability, especially yeomen of strength and substance, had accepted it on the offered terms; but Washington remained firm and decided. His fortitude might not inaptly be compared to that house against which the waves beat, and the rain came, and the winds blew, but which fell not, for it was founded on a rock. He calmly represented to Congress the plight to which he was reduced; and the crisis being such as to silence all querulous opposition, neither the whisper of envy nor the voice of discontent was heard. Even timidity was overcome by fear. Indeed the members appear to have been animated by views similar to those which the elder consul, “an ancient man and wise,” is made to express when the thirty armies are described as on their way to Rome:

“In seasons of great peril ’Tis good that one bear sway; Then choose we a Dictator, Whom all men shall obey.”

And, accordingly, Washington was wisely invested with supreme authority and dictatorial powers. The army was completely reorganized; and its dauntless, but firm and prudent leader, resolved to cross the Delaware, and attack the foes on their own ground. On a December night he assailed and defeated them at Trenton; and pursuing his advantage, he gained an important victory at Princeton. Next year, however, the fortune of war again changed, and Washington fought unsuccessfully at the fords of the Brandywine and at the village of Germantown. In the former of these actions Lafayette, inspired with burning zeal for the American cause, displayed his courage as a volunteer, and was wounded in the leg while dismounting to rally the retreating troops by his voice and example.

Ere long the French king recognized the independence of the United States by a formal treaty; a battle was fought at Monmouth with partial success; and a French squadron arrived to aid the new allies of the Bourbons. Nevertheless, an assault made by the combined forces on Rhode Island proved a failure; and a projected expedition against Canada came to naught. An intended attack on New York had a similar termination, and a mutiny among the troops filled the public mind with alarm and consternation. Still the clear spirit of Washington rose superior to adversity, and his deep determination was not to be shaken by disaster.

Affairs, indeed, seemed now to be hastening to a crisis; but as the year 1781 advanced, they began to wear a more favorable aspect. The cheering news was brought by a French frigate that powerful assistance might be calculated on; and a combined attack was planned against New York, but relinquished owing to intelligence in regard to the sailing of the promised auxiliaries from St. Domingo. When they at length arrived, York Town, in Virginia, was besieged by the allied forces, and Lord Cornwallis obliged to surrender.

It now became evident that the unhappy war was approaching its termination; and the American army, with a prospect of being disbanded, began to complain of grievances. Besides, many of the officers looked with so little favor on republican institutions, that, wishing for some more vigorous form of government, they deputed one of their number to convey to Washington the suggestion, that they were not averse to his thoughtful brow being begirt with a diadem. He rebuked the idea with stern indignation, and requested that it might never again be alluded to.

In the spring of 1783, intelligence arrived that a treaty of peace had been signed at Paris, and that the independence of the United States had been acknowledged by the British Government. Shortly afterward, a cessation of hostilities was announced, and arrangements were made for the evacuation of New York. On a November morning, the English troops finally embarked; a long procession, with Washington at its head, made formal entry and took possession of the city. At his side――followed by the provincial functionaries, officers, senators, and citizens――rode the governor, who closed the proceedings of the memorable day with a costly banquet. Yet, however flattering to their pride as a new nation, the ceremony was not altogether unsuggestive of melancholy considerations. The chief, the greatest, the most conspicuous actor in it, must have been conscious of mixed feelings; and it was natural that, a few days later, when parting with his warlike associates, his emotion should have been visible. He had conducted a great civil war; he had triumphed where the most sanguine might, without reproach have despaired; and he had throughout, without an interval, exhibited high mental dignity. He had earned the position of a prince, and the proud title of “Father of his country;” won for himself glorious renown, and achieved national independence for millions. But it was impossible to look for a moment to the future, enveloped as it then was in uncertainty, without recollecting――perhaps not without a sigh――that America was no longer a portion of that mighty empire on which the sun never sets; reared by Saxon sagacity, and sustained by Norman valor; constituted by the toil of the wise, and consecrated by the blood of the brave; and to whose immemorial institutions he had lately been as much attached as the inhabitants of Kent or Northumberland.

When Washington resigned the command of that army with which he had outmanœuvred the tactics of successive generals, and brought a war with the most powerful nation in the world to a triumphant issue, he was still in his fifty-first year; but he had a right to believe that his long and continuous services entitled him to repose. He had affluence and station; he did not covet power; and he looked forward to the enjoyment of calm, contemplative retirement, till, in God’s appointed time, he should sleep with his fathers. He therefore went to Mount Vernon, devised schemes of internal navigation for developing the resources and extending the commerce of the country, and seems even to have indulged in prophetic visions of that vast trade which has since crowded the docks of Liverpool and stocked the warehouses of Manchester. It was then that he had the satisfaction of welcoming the visit of Lafayette, whose friendship he highly esteemed, and whose former services he duly appreciated. They parted with mutual regret; never to meet again.

While planting his grounds, pruning his fruit-trees, improving his property, receiving complimentary visits, answering courteous congratulations, and preparing peacefully to descend the pathway of life, under the shadow of his own vine and fig-tree――envious of none, and determined to be pleased with all――Washington became painfully aware that the system of government then existing did not meet the wishes and requirements of the American public. Indeed, some were so apprehensive of fatal consequences, that they were gradually inspired with the desire of receiving, from among the royal families of Europe, a prince who should wear a crown, exercise sovereign sway, and control the conflicting elements then making themselves felt for evil. To pour oil on the troubled waters, a Convention was appointed to devise a form of government calculated to give general satisfaction. Washington was chosen chairman; and, as such, affixed his name to the new constitution, which, though not coming up to the perfection of ideal theories, was ratified by the States and adopted by the people.