CHAPTER VIII

THE BEGINNING SIGNS OF A GREAT REVOLUTION

I. MILITARY VICTORY AND A HAPPY MARRIAGE

Washington now had charge of the advance on Fort Duquesne. He left Loyal Hannon over the road Major Grant had taken. The whole fifty miles were strewn with the bones of oxen, horses and men. What remained of the bodies of their comrades, they buried. Then they arrived at the scene of Braddock’s defeat, where the same duty was done for the dead, a sad reminder of the folly of arrogance and ambition in commanders.

They had expected to have a hard fight for the capture of Fort Duquesne. But the success of the English in Canada, and the fall of Fort Frontenac had left the French at Fort Duquesne without any chance for supplies or reinforcements. The fort was already at the point of being abandoned from necessity. Accordingly, the commander waited until the English were within a day’s march of him, when he withdrew his force of five hundred men, destroyed what he could not take away, set fire to all that would burn, embarked at night in their long, light batteaux, by the flames of their fort, and floated down the Ohio, giving up their hopeless fight for the possession of the Ohio Valley.

On the morning of November 5, 1758, Washington with his advanced guard marched in and hoisted the British flag over the ruins. The enemy was gone. The Indians having lost the support of their French friends withdrew into the depths of the forest.

Washington rebuilt the place, garrisoned it with two hundred men and named it Fort Pitt in honor of the illustrious British minister, William Pitt.

Washington’s military schooling, if we may so term it, in the light of great events to follow, was now ended. He had been engaged for marriage several months with Mrs. Martha Custis, a widow of the noblest womanly character, and considerable wealth. The marriage was accordingly celebrated January 6, 1759, the month before he was twenty-seven years of age. He now settled down, away from war, into the life of a business man, as his mother, herself a business woman, had so fondly desired.

The objects for which the French and Indian war had begun were now achieved for the colonists. But England was carrying the war further, aiming at nothing less than the conquest of Canada. The first gun had been fired at Washington at the time he was beaten in the race with the French for the forks of the Ohio. The last gun was fired at Quebec when all Canada became a possession seized by might of the British arms.

The French were greatly grieved at their loss, but their great statesmen prophesied that it was a fatal victory for the English mastery of North America.

The Duke de Choiseul said that it would awaken the colonies to their liberty and their power. It would bring the ideals of the wilderness in sharp contrast with the imperialism of England. “They will no longer need her protection,” said he, “she will call on them to contribute toward supporting the burdens they have helped bring on her, and they will answer by striking off their dependence.”

How true this was as a prophecy, the school histories all show to every pupil of the schools, who will try to get a view of the progress and development of historical events. Fact will then be stranger than fiction, and history will be a more romantic story, richer in the lessons of life, than any novel.

II. LIFE FULFILLED AS A VIRGINIA COUNTRY GENTLEMAN

Washington, after his marriage, at the close of the French and Indian war, became, as his mother had so long desired him to be, a country gentleman, not only with a large land-ownership, but also dignified with a seat in the legislative assembly of Virginia. He was rich, happily married and a hero! What more was to be desired in the heart of man!

On the day when Washington took his seat in the House of Burgesses, the speaker of the assembly arose and eloquently presented the thanks of the colony for the distinguished military services rendered by their fellow-member to his country, and especially to the welfare of Virginia.

Washington arose at the conclusion of the eulogy to express his appreciation for what had been spoken in his honor.

It is said that he “blushed--stammered--trembled, and could not utter a word.”

“Sit down, Mr. Washington,” said the speaker, “your modesty equals your valor, and that surpasses the power of any language I possess.”

During the session of the Virginia legislature, Washington lived at the White House, as was called the home of his bride, and which was situated on her estate, near Williamsburg. That home has since been immortalized as the name of the Home of the Presidents of the United States.

Mrs. Martha Custis was one of the wealthiest women in the English colonies when she married George Washington. At her request, the General Court appointed Washington the guardian of her boy of six and her girl of four, and the manager of all her property.

His friends had long wanted him to visit England, believing, doubtless, from special information, that great honors awaited him there. No doubt there was in easy reach the usually much-coveted political preferment, such as might have made him beholden to the King through all his future career. But we are perhaps entitled to believe that Washington’s views of those honors were not qualified by the grateful respect that was necessary. An American of his honor and character probably cherished the good will of his countrymen as superior to any royal condescension.

To these suggestions for a visit to England, he returned a characteristic reply, “I am now, I believe, fixed in this seat, with an agreeable partner for life, and I hope to find more happiness in retirement than I ever experienced in the wide and bustling world.”

At the end of the session of the Virginia legislature, Washington and his family left the “White House” and made their home at Mount Vernon. Here he fully believed he was settled in a life of happiness and peace. It was the home of his childhood which he had spent with his beloved mother and his half-brother Lawrence.

This home on the beautiful highlands of the Potomac was indeed the center of a little empire. It was a system of cultured, wealthy people, graded on down to the colored servants, in which everything needed for luxury, pleasure or enterprise was made and ready on the grounds.

The home life of the Washington family is a revelation of the aristocratic democracy of the times. Many a story is told showing the wilderness culture and luxury mingled with the common interests of the lowly life.

The treaty of peace, now including all affairs in the colonies, which was signed in 1763, between England and France, was greeted as a happy ending of all border troubles for the colonies. But, unfortunately, it seemed to let loose the savagery of the Indians, whose tribes were now going to pieces before the advancing English Settlements. The right to the wilderness was a hand-to-hand conflict, in which the pioneer frontiersmen won the great victory for modern civilization.

III. THE MOMENTOUS STRUGGLE BETWEEN MIGHT AND RIGHT

The border warfare continued as ferociously as ever before. Washington, being out of military life, with heavy business responsibilities upon him, did not become involved in these conflicts.

Meanwhile, the prediction of the Duke de Choiseul that the colonies would rapidly see they had no need of England, and would as rapidly cease to fear its military power, was coming true. Irritation followed fast upon irritation, and arrogance bred resentment and retaliation so rapidly that it requires many a volume to tell it all. The colonists had to fight the battles of the border warfare, pay the costs, support the arrogant officers sent across the water, and yet find themselves regarded as inferiors fit only as producers for a land across the sea. But it should be understood from the beginning that history deals mainly with the makers of history who have been almost exclusively generals and kings. The commoners, except as their minds are state-made, have no quarrel with the commoners of other countries.

The first outbreak came against taxes placed on personal necessities in which the people had no rights or voice. The resentment was crystallized into an outcry against “taxation without representation.” The bitter feeling found voice in a daring defiance uttered by Patrick Henry. He brought forward a resolution in the Virginia House of Burgesses, declaring that the General Assembly of Virginia had the exclusive right and power to lay taxes upon the people of Virginia, and that whoever claimed to the contrary was an enemy of the colony. With that view the commoners of England were in general sympathy, including many of the most influential men in that country. But the British court was foreign, that is, continental. History tells us that King George the First, grandfather of George the Third, could speak only his native German, and held in profound contempt the English people.

The Speaker of the House tried to have Patrick Henry’s resolution modified as being too strong, but, in his speech for the resolution, the young orator, after a brilliant address, concluded with the memorable and history-making words, “Cæsar had his Brutus; Charles his Cromwell; and George the Third,--(here cries of ‘Treason! Treason!’ was heard) may profit by their example. Sir, if this be treason----(here he bowed to the Speaker)--make the most of it!”

The idea of liberty to make their own laws had now sprung forth, and it was taken up with immense enthusiasm throughout the colonies.

The British Parliament seemed to look upon the colonies as Braddock had done upon the colonial soldiers,--they were only half-civilized inferiors, and suitable only for menial service or to contribute profit to the mother country. Accordingly, month by month and year by year, the interference and resentment on both sides increased, by the passage of obnoxious laws on one side, and resistance to their enforcement on the other side.

All this time, Washington was in the midst of the turmoil, not as a leader but more as a peacemaker, though always in full sympathy with the fast growing American idea. As we take a swift view of those times, we are apt to suppose that the change of mind, uniting the colonies in opposition to Great Britain, came suddenly and unanimously, but, as in all places and situations, where there is freedom of thinking, the general conviction came slowly, especially the conviction to use force in the defense of the rights of of man as learned in the hard freedom of the wilderness. What we might call the high-water mark of mind, in favor of force for maintaining colonial liberty, was that of Patrick Henry, whose slogan was “Give me liberty or give me death.”

On the other hand, there were many, from the aristocratic mansion to the log cabin in the forest, who looked upon force against the mother country as a horror and a crime. Between these extremes, Washington labored for patience among the colonists and a change of policy among the law-makers of Great Britain. In writing to his wife’s uncle, an influential man in London, he said, “The Stamp Act engrosses the conversation of the speculative part of the colonists, who look upon this unconstitutional method of taxation as a direful attack upon their liberties, and loudly exclaim against the violation.”

In the New England colonies, the people were far more fierce in their resentment toward the requirement that they must buy stamps to make legal almost every transaction. This method of getting money for the British government was so offensive to Boston that a publicly encouraged mob hanged the stamp distributor in effigy, the windows of his house were broken, and the building to be used as his office was broken to pieces, and the fragments burned in the streets. The officers of the town, trying to disperse the crowd, were driven away with stones. The next morning the stamp distributor renounced his office in the public square and no one could be found willing to take his place.

Down in Virginia, the stamp distributor did not try to fulfill his office, but came on to Williamsburg and amidst much applause publicly denounced the Stamp Act and vacated the office.

On the first of November, 1765, when the act was to become law and go into operation, there was tolling of bells throughout New England. Ships in the harbors displayed their flags at half-mast. Shops were shut, business was suspended, and every form of defiance they could invent was displayed all day and that night.

At New York, the poster announcing the law was stuck on a pole, under a death’s head, from which floated a banner bearing the inscription, “The folly of England and ruin of America.” The lieutenant-governor with all his official household went into the fort and surrounded himself with marines from a ship of war. Then the mob went to his stables, brought out his carriage, put his effigy into it, dragged it up and down the street till they were tired, and then hung his effigy on a gallows. That evening they took the effigy down, put it again into the carriage, this time by the side of an image of the devil, had a howling torch-light procession to Bowling Green, and there, under the guns of the fort, burned the carriage with the effigies in it. So bitter and so general was the disapproval that no one attempted to enforce the law.