During all this period, the feeling against England was growing more and more bitter. Let us be candid about it. The expulsion of the French from the continent had freed the colonies from the danger of French aggression and from the feeling that they needed the aid of the mother country. That they should have been taxed to help defray the great expense of this war against the French seems reasonable enough, but there happened to be in power in England, at the time, a few obstinate and bull-headed statesmen, serving under an obstinate and ignorant king, and they handled the question of taxation with so little tact and delicacy that, among them, they managed to rouse the anger of the colonies to the boiling point.
For the colonists, let us remember, were of the same obstinate and bull-headed stock, and it was soon evident that the only way to settle the difference was to fight it out. But the impartial historian must write it down that the colonies had much more to thank England for than to complain about, and that at first, the idea of a war for independence was not a popular one. As it went on, and the Tories were run out of the country or won over, as battle and bloodshed aroused men's passions, then it gradually gained ground; but throughout, the members of the Continental Congress, led by John and Samuel Adams, were ahead of public opinion.
As we have said, it soon became apparent that there was going to be a fight, and independent companies were formed all over Virginia, and started industriously to drilling. Washington, by this time the most conspicuous man in the colony, was chosen commander-in-chief; and when, at the gathering of the second Continental Congress at Philadelphia, came news of the fight at Lexington and Concord, the army before Boston was formally adopted by the Congress as an American army, and Washington was unanimously chosen to command it. I wonder if any one foresaw that day, even in the dimmest fashion, what immortality of fame was to come to that tall, quiet, dignified man?
That was on the 15th day of June, 1775, and Washington left immediately for Boston to take command of the American forces. All along the route, the people turned out to welcome him and bid him Godspeed. Delegations escorted him from one town to the next, and at last, on the afternoon of July 2d, he rode into Cambridge, where, the next day, in the shadow of a great elm on Cambridge Common, he took command of his army, and began the six years' struggle which resulted in the establishment of the independence of the United States of America.
His first task was to drive the British from Boston, and he had accomplished it by the following March. Then came a long period of reverses and disappointments, during which his little army, outnumbered, but not outgeneraled, was driven from Long Island, from New York, and finally across New Jersey, taking refuge on the south bank of the Delaware. There he gathered it together, and on Christmas night, 1776, while the enemy were feasting and celebrating in their quarters at Trenton, he ferried his army back across the ice-blocked river, fell upon the British, administered a stinging defeat, and never paused until he had driven them from New Jersey. That brilliant campaign effectually stifled the opposition which he had had to fight in the Congress, and resulted in his being given full power over the army, and over all parts of the country which the army occupied.
One more terrible ordeal awaited him—the winter of 1777–1778 spent at Valley Forge, where the army, without the merest necessities of life, melted away from desertion and disease, until, at one time, it consisted of less than two thousand effective men. The next spring saw the turning-point, for France allied herself with the United States; the British were forced to evacuate Philadelphia and were driven back across New Jersey to New York; and, finally, by one of the most brilliant marches in history, Washington transferred his whole army from the Hudson to the Potomac, and trapped Cornwallis and his army of seven thousand men at Yorktown. Cornwallis tried desperately to free himself, but to no avail, and on October 19, 1781, he surrendered his entire force.
There is a pretty legend that, as Cornwallis delivered up his sword, a cheer started through the American lines, but that Washington stilled it on the instant, remarking, "Let posterity cheer for us." Whether the legend be true or not, posterity has cheered, for that brilliant victory really ended the war, although two years passed before peace was declared and the independence of the United States acknowledged by the King of England.
Long before this, everybody knew what the end would be, and there was much discussion as to how the new country should be governed. A great many people were dissatisfied with the Congress, and it was suggested to Washington that there would be a more stable government if he would consent himself to be King or Dictator, or whatever title he might wish, and that the army, which had won the independence of the country, would support him. Washington's response was prompt and decisive.
"Let me conjure you," he wrote, "if you have any regard for your country, concern for yourself, or respect for me, to banish these thoughts from your mind, and never communicate, as from yourself or any one else, a sentiment of like nature."
It was perhaps the first time in the history of the world that men had witnessed the like. Soon afterwards, the army was disbanded, and Washington, proceeding to Annapolis, where the Congress was in session, resigned his commission as commander-in-chief. There are some who consider that the greatest scene in history—the hero sheathing his sword "after a life of spotless honor, a purity unreproached, a courage indomitable, and a consummate victory."
A private citizen again, Washington returned quietly to his estate at Mount Vernon. But he could not remain there—the country needed him too badly, and his great work was yet to do. For let us remember that his great work was not the leading of the American army to victory, not the securing of independence, but the establishment of this Republic. More than of any other man was this the work of Washington. He saw the feeble Confederation breaking to pieces, now that the stress of danger was removed; he beheld the warring interests and petty jealousies of statesmen who yet remained colonial; but he was determined that out of these thirteen jarring colonies should come a nation; and when the convention to form a constitution met at Philadelphia, he presided over it, and it was his commanding will which brought a constitution out of a turmoil of selfish interests, through difficulties and past obstacles which would have discouraged any other man.
And, the Constitution once adopted, all men turned to Washington to start the new Nation on her great voyage. Remember, there was no government, only some written pages saying that a government was to be; it was Washington who converted that idea into a reality, who brought that government into existence. It was a venture new to history; a Republic founded upon principles which, however admirable in the abstract, had been declared impossible to embody in the life of a nation. And yet, eight years later, when Washington retired from the presidency, he left behind him an effective government, with an established revenue, a high credit, a strong judiciary, a vigorous foreign policy, and an army which had repressed insurrections, and which already showed the beginnings of a truly national spirit.
At the end of his second term as President, the country demanded that he accept a third; the country, without Washington at the head of it, seemed to many people like a ship on a dangerous sea without a pilot. But he had guided her past the greatest dangers, and he refused a third term, setting a precedent which no man in the country's history has been strong enough to disregard. In March, 1797, he was back again at Mount Vernon, a private citizen.
He looked forward to and hoped for long years of quiet, but it was not to be. On December 12, 1799, he was caught by a rain and sleet storm, while riding over his farm, and returned to the house chilled through. An illness followed, which developed into pneumonia, and three days later he was dead.
He was buried at Mount Vernon, which has become one of the great shrines of America, and rightly so. For no man, at once so august and so lovable, has graced American history. Indeed, he stands among the greatest men of all history. There are few men with such a record of achievement, and fewer still who, at the end of a life so crowded and cast in such troubled places, can show a fame so free from spot, a character so unselfish and so pure.
We know Washington to-day as well as it is possible to know any man. We know him far better than the people of his own household knew him. Behind the silent and reserved man, of courteous and serious manner, which his world knew, we perceive the great nature,