Chapter II: Part 2

[Footnote 22: Washington's Writings, Vol. II. p. 475.]

{53}

Never, perhaps, was this vague expectation, this premature confidence in the destiny, I hardly venture to say the predestination, of any individual more natural, than in the case of Washington; for there never was a man who appeared to be, and who really was, from his youth, and in his early actions, more consistent with his future career, and more adapted to the cause, upon which he was destined to bestow success.

He was a planter by inheritance and inclination, and devoted to those agricultural interests, habits, and modes of life, which constituted the chief strength of American society. Fifty years later, Jefferson, in order to justify his confidence in the purely democratic organization of this society, said, "It cannot deceive us as long as we remain virtuous, and I think we shall, as long as agriculture is our principal object." [Footnote 23]

[Footnote 23: _Edinburgh Review_, July, 1830, p. 498.]

From the age of twenty years, Washington considered agriculture as his principal employment, making himself well acquainted with the prevalent tone of feeling, and sympathizing with the virtuous and simple habits of his country. {54} Traveling, field-sports, the survey of distant tracts of land, intercourse, friendly or hostile, with the Indians on the frontier, these formed the amusements of his youth. He was of that bold and hardy temperament, which takes pleasure in those adventures and perils, which, in a vast and wild country, man has to encounter. He had that strength of body, perseverance, and presence of mind, which insure success.

In this respect, at his entrance into life, he felt a slightly presumptuous degree of self-confidence. He writes to Governor Dinwiddie; "For my own part I can answer, that I have a constitution hardy enough to encounter and undergo the most severe trials, and, I flatter myself, resolution to face what any man dares." [Footnote 24]

[Footnote 24: Washington's Writings, Vol. II. p. 29.]

To a spirit like this, war was a more congenial employment than field-sports or traveling. As soon as an opportunity offered, he embraced the employment with that ardor, which, in the early period of life, does not reveal a man's capacity so certainly as his taste. {55} In 1754, it is said, when George the Second was hearing a despatch read, which had been transmitted by the Governor of Virginia, and in which Washington, than a young major, ended the narrative of his first battle with the words, "I heard the bullets whistle, and, believe me, there is something charming in the sound;" the King observed, "He would not say so, if he had been used to hear many." Washington was of the King's opinion; for, when the major of the Virginia militia had become the Commander-in-chief of the United States, some one having asked him if it were true, that he had ever expressed such a sentiment, he replied, "If I said so, it was when I was young." [Footnote 25]

[Footnote 25: Washington's Writings, Vol. II. p. 39.]

But his youthful ardor, which was at the same time serious and calm, had the authority which belongs to a riper age. From the first moment in which he embraced the military profession, he took pleasure, far more than in the excitement of battle, in that noble exercise of the understanding and the will, armed with power in order to accomplish a worthy purpose, that powerful combination of human action and good fortune, which kindles and inspires the most elevated as well as the most simple minds. {56} Born in the first rank of colonial society, trained in the public schools in the midst of his countrymen, he took his place naturally at their head; for he was at once their superior and their equal; formed to the same habits, skilled in the same exercises; a stranger, like them, to all elegant learning, without any pretensions to scientific knowledge, claiming nothing for himself, and exerting only in the public service that ascendency, which always attends a judicious and penetrating understanding, and a calm and energetic character, in a disinterested position.

In 1754, he was just appearing in society, and entering upon his military career. It is a young officer of two-and-twenty, who commands battalions of militia, and corresponds with the representative of the king of England. In neither of these relations does he feel any embarrassment. He loves his associates; he respects the king and the governor; but neither affection nor respect alters the independence of his judgment or of his conduct. {57} By an admirable, instinctive power of action and command, he sees and apprehends, by what means and upon what terms success is to be obtained in the enterprise he has undertaken on behalf of his king and his country. And these terms he imposes, these means he insists upon; from the soldiers he exacts all that can be accomplished by discipline, promptness, and activity in the service; from the governor, that he shall discharge his duty in respect to the pay of the soldiers, the furnishing of supplies, and the choice of officers. In every case, whether his words or opinions are sent up to the superior to whom he is rendering his account, or pass down to the subordinates under his command, they are equally precise, practical, and decided, equally marked by that authority which truth and necessity bestow upon the man who appears in their name. From this moment, Washington is the leading American of his time, the faithful and conspicuous representative of his country, the man who will best understand and best serve her, whether he be called upon to fight or negotiate for her, to defend or to govern her.

{58}

It is not the issue alone which has revealed this. His contemporaries foresaw it. Colonel Fairfax, his first patron, wrote to him, in 1756, "Your good health and fortune are the toast at every table." [Footnote 26] In 1759, chosen, for the first time, to the House of Burgesses in Virginia, at the moment when he was taking his seat in the House, the Speaker, Mr. Robinson, presented to him, in warm and animated terms, the thanks of the House for the services which he had rendered to his country. Washington rose to make his acknowledgments for so distinguished an honor; but such was his embarrassment, that he could not speak a single word; he blushed, hesitated, and trembled. The Speaker at once came to his aid, and said, "Sit down, Mr. Washington; your modesty equals your valor, and that surpasses the power of any language that I possess." [Footnote 27]

[Footnote 26: Washington's Writings, Vol. II. p. 145.]

[Footnote 27: Spark's _Life of Washington_,
Vol. I. p. 107.]

{59}

Finally, in 1774, on the eve of the great struggle, after the separation of the first Congress held for the purpose of making preparations to meet it, Patrick Henry replied to those that inquired of him, who was the first man in Congress, "If you speak of eloquence, Mr. Rutledge, of South Carolina, is the greatest orator; but, if you speak of solid information and sound judgment, Colonel Washington is unquestionably the greatest man on that floor." [Footnote 28]

[Footnote 28: Spark's _Life of Washington_,
Vol. I., p. 107.]

However, to say nothing of eloquence, Washington had not those brilliant and extraordinary qualities, which strike the imagination of men at the first glance. He did not belong to the class of men of vivid genius, who pant for an opportunity of display, are impelled by great thoughts or great passions, and diffuse around them the wealth of their own natures, before any outward occasion or necessity calls for its employment. Free from all internal restlessness and the promptings and pride of ambition, Washington did not seek opportunities to distinguish himself, and never aspired to the admiration of the world. {60} This spirit so resolute, this heart so lofty, was profoundly calm and modest. Capable of rising to a level with the highest destiny, he might have lived in ignorance of his real power without suffering from it, and have found, in the cultivation of his estates, a satisfactory employment for those energetic faculties, which were to be proved equal to the task of commanding armies and founding a government.

But, when the opportunity presented itself, when the exigence occurred, without effort on his part, without any surprise on the part of others, indeed rather, as we have just seen, in conformity with their expectations, the prudent planter stood forth a great man. He had, in a remarkable degree, those two qualities which, in active life, make men capable of great things. He could confide strongly in his own views, and act resolutely in conformity with them, without fearing to assume the responsibility.

{61}

It is always a weakness of conviction, that leads to weakness of conduct; for man derives his motives from his own thoughts, more than from any other source. From the moment that the quarrel began, Washington was convinced, that the cause of his country was just, and that success must necessarily follow so just a cause, in a country already so powerful. Nine years were to be spent in war to obtain independence, and ten years in political discussion to form a system of government. Obstacles, reverses, enmities, treachery, mistakes, public indifference, personal antipathies, all these incumbered the progress of Washington, during this long period. But his faith and hope were never shaken for a moment. In the darkest hours, when he was obliged to contend against the sadness which hung upon his own spirits, he says, "I cannot but hope and believe, that the good sense of the people will ultimately get the better of their prejudices. ... I do not believe, that Providence has done so much for nothing. ... The great Governor of the universe has led us too long and too far on the road to happiness and glory to forsake us in the midst of it. By folly and improper conduct, proceeding from a variety of causes, we may now and then get bewildered; but I hope and trust, that there is good sense and virtue enough left to recover the right path before we shall be entirely lost." [Footnote 29]

[Footnote 29: Washington's Writings,
Vol. IX. pp. 5, 383, 392.]

{62}

And at a later period, when that very France which had so well sustained him daring the war, brought upon him embarrassments and perils more formidable than war; when Europe, upheaved from its foundations, was pressing heavily upon his thoughts, and perplexing his mind, no less than America, he still continued to hope and to trust. "The rapidity of national revolutions appears no less astonishing than their magnitude. In what they will terminate is known only to the Great Ruler of events; and, confiding in his wisdom and goodness, we may safely trust the issue to him, without perplexing ourselves to seek for that, which is beyond human ken; only taking care to perform the parts assigned to us, in a way that reason and our own consciences approve." [Footnote 30]

[Footnote 30: Ibid., Vol. X. p. 331.]

{63}

The same strength of conviction, the same fidelity to his own judgment, which he manifested in his estimate of things generally, attended him in his practical management of business. Possessing a mind of admirable freedom, rather in virtue of the soundness of its views, than of its fertility; and variety, he never received his opinions at second hand, nor adopted them from any prejudice; but, on every occasion, he formed them himself, by the simple observation or attentive study of facts, unswayed by any bias or prepossession, always acquainting himself personally with the actual truth.

Thus, when he had examined, reflected, and made up his mind, nothing disturbed him; he did not permit himself to be thrown into, and kept in, a state of perpetual doubt and irresolution, either by the opinions of others, or by love of applause, or by fear of opposition. He trusted in God and in himself. "If any power on earth could, or the Great Power above would, erect the standard of infallibility in political opinions, there is no being that inhabits the terrestrial globe, that would resort to it with more eagerness than myself, so long as I remain a servant of the public. But as I have found no better guide hitherto, than upright intentions, and close investigation, I shall adhere to those maxims, while I keep the watch." [Footnote 31]

[Footnote 31: Washington's Writings, Vol. XI. p. 71.]

{64}

To this strong and independent understanding, he joined a great courage, always ready to act upon conviction, and fearless of consequences. "What I admire in Christopher Columbus," said Turgot, "is, not his having discovered the new world, but his having gone to search for it on the faith of an opinion." Whether the occasion was of great or little moment, whether the consequences were near at hand or remote, Washington, when once convinced never hesitated to move onward upon the faith of his conviction. One would have inferred, from his firm and quiet resolution, that it was natural to him to act with decision, and assume responsibility;--a certain sign of a genius born to command; an admirable power, when united to a conscientious disinterestedness.

{65}

On the list of great men, if there be some who have shone with a more dazzling lustre, there are none who have been exposed to a more complete test, in war and in civil government; resisting the king, in the cause of liberty, and the people, in the cause of legitimate authority; commencing a revolution and ending it. From the first moment, his task was clearly manifest in all its extent and all its difficulty. To carry on the war, he had not merely to create an army. To this work, always so difficult, the creating power itself was wanting. The United States had neither a government nor an army. Congress, a mere phantom, whose unity was only in name, had neither authority, nor power, nor courage, and did nothing. Washington was obliged, from his camp, not only to make constant solicitations, but to suggest measures for adoption, to point out to Congress what course they should pursue, if they would prevent both themselves and the army from becoming an idle name. His letters were read while they were in session, and supplied the subject of their debates; debates, characterized by inexperience, timidity, and distrust. They rested satisfied with appearances and promises. They sent messages to the local governments. {66} They expressed apprehensions of military power. Washington replied respectfully, obeyed, and then insisted; demonstrated the deceptiveness of appearances, and the necessity of a real force to give him the substance of the power, of which he had the name, and to insure to the army the success which they expected of it. Brave and intelligent men, devoted to the cause, were not wanting in this assembly, so little experienced in the art of government. Some of them went to the camp, examined for themselves, had interviews with Washington, and brought with them, on their return, the weight of their own observations and of his advice. The assembly gradually grew wiser and bolder, and gained confidence in themselves and in their general. They adopted the measures, and conferred upon him the powers, which were necessary. He then entered into correspondence and negotiations with local governments, legislatures, committees, magistrates, and private citizens; placing facts before their eyes; appealing to their good sense and their patriotism; availing himself, for the public service, of his personal friendships; dealing prudently with democratic scruples and the sensitiveness of vanity; maintaining his own dignity; speaking as became his high station, but without giving offence, and with persuasive moderation; though wisely heedful of human weakness, being endowed with the power, to an extraordinary degree, of influencing men by honorable sentiments and by truth.

{67}

And when he had succeeded, when Congress first, and afterwards the different States, had granted him the necessary means of making an army, his task was not finished; the business of the war had not yet commenced; the army did not exist. Here, too, he was obstructed by a complete inexperience, the same want of unity, the same passion for individual independence, the same conflict between patriotic purposes and disorganizing impulses. Here, too, he was obliged to bring discordant elements into harmony; to keep together those which were constantly ready to separate; to enlighten, to persuade, to induce; to use personal influence; and, without endangering his dignity or his power, to obtain the moral fidelity, the full and free support, both of the officers and soldiers. {68} Then only could Washington act as a general, and turn his attention to the war. Or, rather, it was during the war, in the midst of its scenes, its perils, and its hazards, that he was constantly obliged to recommence, both in the country and the army itself, this work of organization and government.

His military capacity has been called in question. He did not manifest, it is true, those striking displays of it which, in Europe, have given renown to great captains. Operating with a small army over an immense space, great manoeuvres and great battles were necessarily unknown to him. But his superiority, acknowledged and declared by his companions, the continuance of the war during nine years, and its final success, are also to be taken as proofs of his merit, and may well justify his reputation. His personal bravery was chivalrous even to rashness, and he more than once abandoned himself to this impulse in a manner painful to contemplate. More than once, the American militia, seized with terror, took to flight, and brave officers sacrificed their lives to infuse courage into their soldiers. {69} In 1776, on a similar occasion, Washington indignantly persisted in remaining on the field of battle, exerting himself to arrest the fugitives by his example and even by his hand. "We made," wrote General Greene the next day, "a miserable, disorderly retreat from New York, owing to the disorderly conduct of the militia. Fellows's and Parsons's brigades ran away from about fifty men, and left his Excellency on the ground within eighty yards of the enemy, so vexed at the infamous conduct of the troops, that he sought death rather than life." [Footnote 32]

[Footnote 32: Washington's Writings, Vol. IV. p. 94.]

On more than one occasion, also, when the opportunity appeared favorable, he displayed the boldness of the general as well as the intrepidity of the man. He has been called the _American Fabius_, it being said that the art of avoiding battle, of baffling the enemy, and of temporizing, was his talent as well as his taste. In 1775, before Boston, at the opening of the war, this Fabius wished to bring it to a close by a sudden attack upon the English army, which he flattered himself he should be able to destroy. {70} Three successive councils of war, forced him to abandon his design, but without shaking his conviction, and he expressed bitter regret at the result. [Footnote 33] In 1776, in the State of New York, when the weather was extremely cold, in the midst of a retreat, with troops half disbanded, the greater part of whom were preparing to leave him and return to their own homes, Washington suddenly assumed an offensive position, attacked, one after another, at Trenton and Princeton, the different corps of the English army, and gained two battles in eight hours.

[Footnote 33: Washington's Writings, Vol. III.
pp. 82, 127, 259, 287, 290, 291, 292, 297.]

Moreover, he understood what was even a much higher and much more difficult art, than that of making war; he knew how to control and direct it. War was to him only a means, always kept subordinate to the main and final object,--the success of the cause, the independence of the country. When, in 1798, the prospect of a possible war between the United States and France occurred to disturb the repose of Mount Vernon, though already approaching to old age and fond of his retirement, he thus wrote to Mr. Adams, his successor in the administration of the republic.

{71}

"It was not difficult for me to perceive that, if we entered
into a serious contest with France, the character of the war
would differ materially from the last we were engaged in. In
the latter, time, caution, and worrying the enemy, until we
could be better provided with arms and other means, and had
better disciplined troops to carry it on, was the plan for us.
But if we should be engaged with the former, they ought to be
attacked every step." [Footnote 34]

[Footnote 34: Washington's Writings, Vol. XI. p. 309.]

This system of active and aggressive war, which, at the age of
sixty-six, he proposed to adopt, was one which, twenty-two years
before, in the vigor of life, neither the advice of some of the
generals, his friends, nor the slanders of some others, his
enemies, nor the complaints of the States which were laid waste
by the enemy, nor popular clamor, nor the desire of glory, nor
the recommendations of Congress itself, had been able to induce
him to follow.
{72}
"I know the unhappy predicament I stand in; I know that much is
expected of me; I know, that without men, without arms, without
ammunition, without any thing fit for the accommodation of a
soldier, little is to be done; and, what is mortifying, I know
that I cannot stand justified to the world without exposing my
own weakness, and injuring the cause, which I am determined not
to do. ... My own situation is so irksome to me at times, that,
if I did not consult the public good more than my own
tranquillity, I should, long ere this, have put every thing on
the cast of a die." [Footnote 35]

[Footnote 35: Washington's Writings, Vol. III p. 284.]

He persisted in this course during nine years. Only when the protracted nature of the contest and the general indifference were occasioning a feeling of discouragement, akin to apathy, did he determine to strike a blow, to encounter some brilliant hazard, to make the country aware of the presence of his army, and relieve the people's hearts of some of their apprehensions. {73} It was thus that, in 1777, he fought the battle of Germantown. And when, in the midst of reverses, endured with heroic patience, he was asked what he should do if the enemy continued to advance, if Philadelphia, for instance, should be taken; he replied, "We will retreat beyond the Susquehanna river, and thence, if necessary, to the Alleghany mountains." [Footnote 36]

[Footnote 36: Sparks's _Washington_, Vol. I. p. 221.]

Besides this patriotic calmness and patience, he displayed the same quality in another form, still more praiseworthy. He saw, without chagrin and ill-humor, the successes of his inferiors in command. Still more, when the public service rendered it advisable, he supplied them largely with the means and opportunity of gaining them. A disinterestedness worthy of all praise, rarely found in the greatest minds; as wise as it was noble, in the midst of the envious tendencies of a democratic society; and which, perhaps, we may be permitted to hope, was in his case attended with a deep and tranquil consciousness of his superiority, and of the glory that would follow him.

{74}

When the horizon was dark, when repeated checks and a succession of misfortunes seemed to throw a doubt upon the capacity of the Commander-in-chief, and gave birth to disorders, intrigues, and hostile insinuations, a powerful voice was quickly raised in his behalf,--the voice of the army, which loaded Washington with testimonials of affectionate respect, and placed him beyond the reach of complaints and hostile attacks.

In the winter of 1777 and 1778. while the army was encamped at Valley Forge, exposed to the most severe hardships, some restless and treacherous spirits organized against Washington a conspiracy of considerable magnitude, which penetrated into the Congress itself. He opposed himself to it with stern frankness, saying, without reserve and without cautious insincerity, all he thought of his adversaries, and leaving his conduct to speak for itself. Such a course, at such a moment, was putting much at hazard. But the public respect in which he was held was so profound, the friends of Washington, Lord Stirling, Lafayette, Greene, Knox, Patrick Henry, Henry Laurens, supported him so warmly, the movement of opinion in the army was so decided, that he triumphed almost without defending himself. {75} The principal framer of this conspiracy, an Irishman by the name of Conway, after having sent in his resignation, continued to spread against him the most injurious charges. General Cadwalader resented this conduct; a duel was the consequence; and Conway, severely wounded, and believing himself to be near his death, wrote as follows, to Washington.

"I find myself just able to hold the pen during a few minutes,
and take this opportunity of expressing my sincere grief for
having done, written, or said any thing disagreeable to your
Excellency. My career will soon be over; therefore justice and
truth prompt me to declare my last sentiments. You are, in my
eyes, the great and good man. May you long enjoy the love,
veneration, and esteem of these States, whose liberties you
have asserted by your virtues." [Footnote 37]

[Footnote 37: Washington's Writings, Vol. V. p. 517. ]

{76}

In 1779, the officers of a New Jersey regiment, imperfectly paid, burdened with debts contracted in the service, anxious about their future prospects and those of their families, made an official declaration to the legislature of that State, that they would resign in a body, if they were not better treated. Washington blamed them extremely, and required of them to withdraw their declaration; but they persisted in their course. "It was, and still is, our determination to march with our regiment, and to do the duty of officers, until the legislature should have a reasonable time to appoint others, but no longer. We beg leave to assure your Excellency, that we have the highest sense of your ability and virtues; that executing your orders has ever given us pleasure; that we love the service, and love our country; but when that country gets so lost to virtue and justice, as to forget to support its servants, it then becomes their duty to retire from its service." [Footnote 38]

[Footnote 38: Marshall's _Life of Washington_,
Vol. IV. p. 47.]

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Thus, respect for Washington appeared conspicuously, even in the cabals formed against him, and was mingled with disobedience itself.

In the state of distress and disorganization into which the American army was perpetually falling, the personal influence of Washington, the affection which was felt for him, the desire of imitating his example, the fear of losing his esteem, or even of giving him pain, deserve to be enumerated among the principal causes, which kept many men, both officers and soldiers, at their posts, kindled anew their zeal, and formed among them that military _esprit de corps_, that friendship of the camp, which is a feeling of great strength, and a fine compensating influence in so rough a profession.

It is a privilege of great men, and often a corrupting one, to inspire affection and devotedness, without feeling them in return. This vice of greatness Washington was exempt from. He loved his associates, his officers, his army. It was not merely from a sense of justice and duty, that he sympathized in their sufferings, and took their interests into his own hands with an indefatigable zeal. {78} He regarded them with a truly tender feeling, marked by compassion for the sufferings he had seen them endure, and by gratitude for the attachment which they had shown to him. And when, in 1783, at the close of the war, at Frances's tavern, in New York, the principal officers, at the moment of their final separation, passed in silence before him, each one pressing his hand as he went by, he was himself moved and agitated, at heart and in his countenance, to a degree that seemed hardly consistent with the firm composure of his spirit.

Nevertheless, he never showed to the army any weakness, or any spirit of unworthy compliance. He never permitted it to be the first object of consideration to itself, and never lost an opportunity to inculcate upon it this truth, that subordination and implicit submission, not only to its country, but to the civil power, was its natural condition, and its first duty.

Upon this subject, he gave it, on three important occasions, the most admirable and the most effective of lessons, that of example. In 1782, he rejected, "with great and painful surprise," [Footnote 39] (these are his expressions), the crown and the supreme power, which some discontented officers were offering to him.

[Footnote 39: Washington's Writings, Vol. VIII. p. 300.]

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In 1783, on the eve of the disbanding of the troops, having been informed that the draft of an address was circulating through the army, and that a general meeting was about to be held to deliberate upon the means of obtaining by force, that which Congress, in spite of justice, had refused to grant, he expressed, in the orders of the day, his strong disapprobation of the measure, himself called together another meeting, attended in person, recalled the officers to the consideration of their duty and the public good, and then withdrew, before any discussion took place, wishing to leave to the parties themselves the merit of retracing their steps, which was done promptly and generally. [Footnote 40]

[Footnote 40: Washington's Writings,
Vol. VIII. pp. 392-400.]

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Finally, in 1784 and 1787, when the officers in their retirement attempted to form among themselves the Society of Cincinnati, in order to preserve some bond of union in their dispersed condition, and for the mutual aid of themselves and their families, as soon as Washington saw that the uneasiness and distrust of a jealous people were awakened by the mere name of a military society, a military order, notwithstanding the personal inclination which he felt towards the institution, he not only caused a change to be made in its statutes, but publicly declined being its president, and ceased to take any part in it. [Footnote 41]

[Footnote 41: Washington's Writings,
Vol. IX. pp. 26, 127.]

By a singular coincidence, about the same time, Gustavus the Third, king of Sweden, forbade the Swedish officers who had served in the French army during the American war, to wear the order of the Cincinnati, "on the ground, that the institution had a republican tendency not suited to his government." [Footnote 42]

[Footnote 42: Ibid., Vol. IX. p. 56.]

"If we cannot convince the people that their fears are ill-founded, we should, at least, in a degree yield to them," said Washington, upon this subject. [Footnote 43]

[Footnote 43: Ibid., Vol. IX. p. 35.]

He did not yield, even to the people, when the public interest would have suffered from such a course; but he had too just a sense of the relative importance of things to display the same inflexibility, when merely personal interests or private feelings, however reasonable, were in question.

{81}

When the object of the war was obtained, when he had taken leave of his companions in arms, mingled with his affectionate regret, and the joy which he felt in the prospect of repose after victory, another feeling may be perceived in his mind, faint indeed, and perhaps even unknown to himself, and this was, a regret in leaving his military life, that noble profession to which he had devoted his best years with so much distinction. It was a highly congenial employment to Washington, whose genius was methodical, and more firm than inventive; who was just, and full of good-will to all men, but grave, somewhat cold, born for command rather than struggle; in action, loving order, discipline, and subordination of ranks; and preferring the simple and vigorous exercise of power, in a good cause, to the complicated intrigues and impassioned debates of politics.

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"The scene is at last closed. ... On the eve of Christmas, I entered these doors an older man by nine years than when I left them. ... I am just beginning to experience that ease and freedom from public cares, which, however desirable, takes some time to realize. It was not till lately I could get the better of my usual custom of ruminating, as soon as I waked in the morning, on the business of the ensuing day; and of my surprise at finding, after revolving many things in my mind, that I was no longer a public man, nor had any thing to do with public transactions. ... I hope to spend the remainder of my days in cultivating the affections of good men, and in the practice of the domestic virtues. ... The life of a husbandman, of all others, is the most delightful. It is honorable, it is amusing, and, with judicious management, it is profitable. ... I have not only retired from all public employments, but I am retiring within myself, and shall be able to view the solitary walk, and tread the paths of private life, with a heartfelt satisfaction. Envious of none, I am determined to be pleased with all; and this, my dear friend, being the order for my march, I will move gently down the stream of life, until I sleep with my fathers." [Footnote 44]

[Footnote 44: Washington's Writings,
Vol. IX. pp. 1, 17, 18, 21, 323.]

{83}

Washington, in uttering such language, was not merely expressing a momentary feeling, the enjoyment of repose, after long-protracted toil, and of liberty, after a severe confinement. The tranquil and active life of a great landed proprietor; those employments, full of interest and free from anxiety; that domestic authority, seldom disputed, and attended with little responsibility; that admirable harmony between the intelligence of man and the prolific power of nature; that sober and simple hospitality; the high satisfaction which springs from consideration and good-will obtained without effort,--these were truly suited to his taste, and were the objects of constant preference to his mind. He would probably have chosen this very life. He enjoyed it; and he enjoyed, besides, all that could be added to it by the public gratitude and his glory, which were delightful in spite of their importunate claims upon him.

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Always of a serious and practical turn of mind, he made improvements in the cultivation of his estates, embellished his mansion-house, occupied himself with the local interests of Virginia, traced the outline of that great system of internal navigation from east to west, which was destined, at a future period, to put the United States in possession of one-half the new world, established schools, put his papers in order, carried on an extensive correspondence, and took great pleasure in receiving, under his roof, and at his table, his attached friends. "It is my wish," he wrote to one of them, a few days after his return to Mount Vernon, "that the mutual friendship and esteem, which have been planted and fostered in the tumult of public life, may not wither and die in the serenity of retirement. We should rather amuse the evening hours of life in cultivating the tender plants, and bringing them to perfection before they are transplanted to a happier clime." [Footnote 45]

[Footnote 45: Washington's Writings, Vol. IX. p. 5.]

{85}

Towards the end of the year 1784, M. de Lafayette came to Mount Vernon. Washington felt for him a truly paternal affection, the tenderest, perhaps, of which his life presents any trace. Apart from the services rendered by him, from the personal esteem he inspired, and from the attractiveness of his character, apart even from the enthusiastic devotion which M. de Lafayette testified for him, this elegant and chivalrous young nobleman, who had escaped from the court of Versailles to dedicate his sword and his fortune to the yeomanry of America, was singularly pleasing to the grave American general. It was, as it were, a homage paid by the nobility of the old world to his cause and his person; a sort of connecting tie between him and that French society, which was so brilliant, so intellectual, and so celebrated. In his modest elevation of mind, he was flattered as well as touched by it, and his thoughts rested with an emotion full of complacency upon this young friend, whose life was like that of none other, and who had quitted every thing to serve by his side.

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"In the moment of our separation," he wrote to him, "upon the road as I traveled, and every hour since, I have felt all that love, respect, and attachment for you, with which length of years, close connection, and your merits have inspired me. I often asked myself, as our carriages separated, whether that was the last sight I should ever have of you. And though I wished to say No, my fears answered Yes. I called to mind the days of my youth, and found they had long since fled to return no more; that I was now descending the hill I had been fifty-two years climbing, and that, though I was blest with a good constitution, I was of a short-lived family, and might soon expect to be entombed in the mansion of my fathers. These thoughts darkened the shades, and gave a gloom to the picture, and consequently to my prospect of seeing you again. But I will not repine; I have had my day." [Footnote 46]

[Footnote 46: Washington's Writings, Vol. IX. p. 77.]

Notwithstanding this sad presentiment, and his sincere taste for repose, his thoughts dwelt constantly upon the condition and affairs of his country. No man can separate himself from the place in which he has once held a distinguished position. {87} "Retired as I am from the world," he writes in 1786, "I frankly acknowledge I cannot feel myself an unconcerned spectator." [Footnote 47]

[Footnote 47: Washington's Writings, Vol. IX. p. 189.]

The spectacle deeply affected and disturbed him. The Confederation was falling to pieces. Congress, its sole bond of union, was without power, not even daring to make use of the little that was intrusted to it. The moral weakness of men was added to the political weakness of institutions. The States were falling a prey to their hostilities, to their mutual distrust, to their narrow and selfish views. The treaties, which had sanctioned the national independence, were executed only in an imperfect and a precarious manner. The debts contracted, both in the old and new world, were unpaid. The taxes destined to liquidate them never found their way into the public treasury. Agriculture was languishing; commerce was declining; anarchy was extending. In all parts of the country itself, whether enlightened or ignorant, whether the blame was laid on the government, or the want of government, the discontent was general. {88} In Europe, the reputation of the United States was rapidly sinking. It was asked if there would ever be any United States. England encouraged this doubt, looking forward to the hour when she might profit by it.

The sorrow of Washington was extreme, and he was agitated and humbled as if he had been still responsible for the course of events. "What, gracious God!" he wrote, on learning the troubles in Massachusetts, "is man, that there should be such inconsistency and perfidiousness in his conduct? It was but the other day, that we were shedding our blood to obtain the constitutions under which we now live; constitutions of our own choice and making; and now we are unsheathing the sword to overturn them. The thing is so unaccountable, that I hardly know how to realize it, or to persuade myself, that I am not under the illusion of a dream." [Footnote 48]

[Footnote 48: Washington's Writings, Vol. IX. p. 221.]

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"We have probably had too good an opinion of human nature in forming our confederation. Experience has taught us, that men will not adopt and carry into execution measures the best calculated for their own good, without the intervention of a coercive power." [Footnote 49]

[Footnote 49: Washington's Writings, Vol. IX. p. 187.]

"From the high ground we stood upon, to be so fallen, so lost, is really mortifying." [Footnote 50] "In regretting, which I have often done with the keenest sorrow, the death of our much lamented friend, General Greene, I have accompanied it of late with a query, whether he would not have preferred such an exit to the scenes which, it is more than probable, many of his compatriots may live to bemoan." [Footnote 51]

[Footnote 50: Ibid., Vol. IX. p. 167.]

[Footnote 51: Ibid., Vol. IX. p. 226.]

Nevertheless, the course of events, and the progress of general good sense, were also mingling hope with this patriotic sorrow,-- a hope full of anxiety and uneasiness, the only one which the imperfection of human things permits elevated minds to form, but which is sufficient to keep up their courage. Throughout the whole Confederation, the evil was felt and a glimpse was caught of the remedy. {90} The jealousies of the States, local interests, ancient habits, democratic prejudices, were all strongly opposed to the sacrifices which were requisite in order to form a government in which the central power should be stronger and more prominent. Still, the spirit of order and union; the love of America as their country; regret at seeing it decline in the esteem of mankind; the disgust created by the petty, interminable, and profitless disturbances of anarchy; the obvious nature of its evils, the perception of its dangers; all the just opinions and noble sentiments which filled the mind of Washington, were gradually extending themselves, gathering additional strength, and preparing the way for a happier future. Four years had hardly elapsed since the peace, which had sanctioned the acquisition of independence, when a national Convention, brought together by a general spontaneous feeling, assembled at Philadelphia, for the purpose of reforming the federal government. Commencing its session the 14th day of May, 1787, it made choice of Washington for its president on the same day. {91} From the 14th of May to the 17th of September, it was occupied in forming the Constitution, which has governed the United States of America for fifty years; deliberating with closed doors, and under influences the most intelligent and the most pure that ever presided over such a work. On the 30th of April, 1789, at the very moment when the Constituent Assembly was commencing its session at Paris, Washington, having been chosen by a unanimous vote, took an oath, as President of the Republic, to maintain and put in force the new-born Constitution, in the presence of the great functionaries and legislative bodies which had been created by it.

Never did a man ascend to the highest dignity by a more direct path, nor in compliance with a more universal wish, nor with an influence wider and more welcome. He hesitated much. In leaving the command of the army, he had openly announced, and had sincerely promised himself, that he should live in retirement, a stranger to public affairs. To change his plans, to sacrifice his tastes and his repose, for very uncertain success, perhaps to be charged with inconsistency and ambition, this was to him an immense effort. {92} The assembling of Congress was delayed; the election of Washington to the presidency, though known, had not been officially announced to him. "For myself," he wrote to his friend, Gen Knox, "the delay may be compared to a reprieve; for, in confidence I tell you, (with the _world_ it would obtain little credit,) that my movements to the chair of government will be accompanied by feelings not unlike those of a culprit, who is going to the place of his execution; so unwilling am I, in the evening of a life nearly consumed in public cares, to quit a peaceful abode for an ocean of difficulties, without that competency of political skill, abilities, and inclination, which are necessary to manage the helm." [Footnote 52]

[Footnote 52: Washington's Writings, Vol. IX. p. 488.]

The message at length arrived, and he commenced his journey. In his Diary, he writes; "About ten o'clock, I bade adieu to Mount Vernon, to private life, and to domestic felicity; and, with a mind oppressed with more anxious and painful sensations than I have words to express, set out for New York, with the best disposition to render service to my country, in obedience to its call, but with less hope of answering its expectations." [Footnote 53]

[Footnote 53: Washington's Writings, Vol. X. p. 461.]

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His journey was a triumphal procession; on the road, and in the towns, the whole population came out to meet him, with shouts of applause and prayers in his behalf. He entered New York, conducted by a committee of Congress, in an elegantly decorated barge, rowed by thirteen pilots, representing the thirteen States, in the midst of an immense crowd in the harbor and upon the shore. His own state of feeling remained the same. "The display of boats," says he in his Diary, "which attended and joined on this occasion, some with vocal and others with instrumental music on board; the decorations of the ships, the roar of cannon, and the loud acclamations of the people, which rent the sky as I passed along the wharves, filled my mind with sensations as painful (contemplating the reverse of this scene, which may be the case, after all my labors to do good,) as they were pleasing." [Footnote 54]

[Footnote 54: Marshall's _Life of Washington_,
Vol. V. p. 159.]

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About a century and a half before, on the banks of the Thames, a similar crowd and like outward signs of feeling had attended Cromwell to Westminster, when he was proclaimed Protector of the Commonwealth of England. "What throngs! what acclamations!" said his flatterers. Cromwell replied, "There would be still more, if they were going to hang me."

A singular resemblance, and also a noble difference between the sentiments and the language of a corrupted great man and a virtuous great man.

Washington was, with reason, anxious about the task which he undertook. The sagacity of a sage, united to the devotedness of a hero, constitutes the highest glory of humanity. The nation, which he had conducted to independence, and which required a government at his hands, being hardly yet formed, was entering upon one of those social changes which render the future so uncertain, and power so perilous.

It is a remark often made, and generally assented to, that in the English colonies, before their separation from the mother country, the state of society and feeling was essentially republican, and that every thing was prepared for this form of government. {95} But a republican form of government can govern, and, in point of fact, has governed societies essentially different; and the same society may undergo great changes without ceasing to be a republic. All the English colonies showed themselves, nearly in the same degree, in favor of the republican constitution. At the North and at the South, in Virginia and the Carolinas, as well as in Connecticut and Massachusetts, the public will was the same, so far as the form of government was concerned.

Still, (and the remark has been often made,) considered in their social organization, in the condition and relative position of their inhabitants, these colonies were very different.

In the South, especially in Virginia and North Carolina, the soil belonged, in general, to large proprietors, who were surrounded by slaves or by cultivators on a small scale. Entails and the right of primogeniture secured the perpetuity of families. There was an established and endowed church. The civil legislation of England, bearing strongly the impress of its feudal origin, had been maintained almost without exception. The social state was aristocratic.

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In the North, especially in Massachusetts, Connecticut, New Hampshire, Rhode Island, &c., the fugitive Puritans had brought with them, and planted there, strict democracy with religious enthusiasm. Here, there was no slavery; there were no large proprietors in the midst of an inferior population, no entailment of landed property; there was no church, with different degrees of rank, and founded in the name of the State; no social superiority, lawfully established and maintained. Man was here left to his own efforts and to divine favor. The spirit of independence and equality had passed from the church to the state.

Still, however, even in the northern colonies, and under the sway of Puritan principles, other causes, not sufficiently noticed, qualified this character of the social state, and modified its development. There is a great, a very great difference between a purely religious and a purely political democratic spirit. {97} However ardent, however impracticable the former may be, it receives in its origin, and maintains in its action, a powerful element of subordination and order, that is, reverence. In spite of their spiritual pride, the Puritans, every day, bent before a master, and submitted to him their thoughts, their heart, their life: and on the shores of America, when they had no longer to defend their liberties against human power, when they were governing themselves in the presence of God, the sincerity of their faith and the strictness of their manners, counteracted the inclination of the spirit of democracy towards individual lawlessness and general disorder. Those magistrates, so watched, so constantly changed, had still a strong ground of support, which rendered them firm, often even severe, in the exercise of authority. In the bosom of those families, so jealous of their rights, so opposed to all political display, to all conventional greatness, the paternal authority was strong and much respected. The law sanctioned rather than limited it. Entails and inequality in inheritance were forbidden; but the father had the entire disposition of his property, and divided it among his children according to his own will. {98} In general, civil legislation was not controlled by political maxims, and preserved the impress of ancient manners. In consequence of this, the democratic spirit, though predominant, was everywhere met by checks and balances.

Besides, a circumstance of material importance, temporary, but of decisive effect, served to conceal its presence and retarded its sway. In the towns, there was no populace; in the country, the population was settled around the principal planters, commonly those who had received grants of the soil, and were invested with the local magistracies. The social principles were democratic, but the position of individuals was very little so. Instruments were wanting to give effect to the principles. Influence still dwelt with rank. And on the other hand, the number did not press heavily enough to make the greater weight in the balance.

But the Revolution, hastening the progress of events, gave to American society a general and rapid movement in the direction of democracy. In those States where the aristocratic principle was still strong, as in Virginia, it was immediately assailed and subdued. {99} Entails disappeared. The church lost not only its privileges, but its official rank in the State. The elective principle prevailed throughout the whole government. The right of suffrage was greatly extended. Civil legislation, without undergoing a radical change, inclined more and more towards equality.

The progress of democracy was still more marked in events than in laws. In the towns, the population increased rapidly, and with it, the populace also. In the country towards the west, beyond the Alleghany mountains, by a constant and accelerated movement of emigration, new States were growing up or preparing to be formed, inhabited by a scattered population, always in contest with the rude powers of nature and the ferocious passions of savages; half savage themselves; strangers to the forms and proprieties of thickly settled communities; given up to the selfishness of their own separated and solitary existence, and of their passions; bold, proud, rude, and passionate. {100} Thus, in all parts of the country, along the sea-board as well as in the interior of the continent, in the great centres of population, and in the forests hardly yet explored, in the midst of commercial activity and of rural life, numbers, the simple individual, personal independence, primitive equality, all these democratic elements were increasing, extending their influence, and taking, in the State and its institutions, the place which had been prepared for them, but which they had not previously held.

And, in the course of ideas, the same movement, even more rapid, hurried along the minds of men and the progress of opinion, far in advance of events. In the midst of the most civilized and wisest States, the most radical theories obtained not only favor but strength. "The property of the United States has been protected from the confiscation of Britain, by the joint exertions of all, and therefore ought to be the common property of all; and he that attempts opposition to this creed, is an enemy to equity and justice, and ought to be swept from the face of the earth. ... {101} They are determined to annihilate all debts, public and private, and have agrarian laws, which are easily effected by the means of unfunded paper money, which shall be a tender in all cases whatever." [Footnote 55]

[Footnote 55: Washington's Writings,
Vol. IX. p. 207.]