THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION
Parliament, finding the Americans most unexpectedly resolute against submitting to taxation, would have drawn back from the dispute; but King George insisted on its continuance. He could not realize the difference between free-born Americans long trained in habits of self-government, and the unfortunate peasantry of Continental Europe, bowed by centuries of suffering and submission. He thought it only necessary to bully the feeble colonists, as Louis XIV had bullied the Huguenots by dragonnades. Soldiers were sent to America to live on the inhabitants; and in Boston, General Gage to complete the terror sent out a force to seize the patriot leaders and destroy their supplies.
Then came "the shot heard round the world." Instead of cringing humbly, the Americans resisted. Several were shot down at Lexington, and in return the remainder attacked the soldiers with a resolution and skill which the peasantry of an open country had never before displayed against trained troops. These farmers had learned fighting from the Indians, they had learned self-reliance, and each man acting for himself, seeking what shelter he could find from tree or fence, fired upon the Britons, until the most famous soldiery of Europe fled back to Boston "their tongues hanging out of their mouths like dogs."[1]
The astonished Britons clamored that their opponents did not "fight fair," meaning that the peasants did not stand still like sheep to be slaughtered, or rush in bodies to be massacred by the superior weapons and trained manœuvres of the professional troops. Therein the objection touched the very point of the world's advance: the common people, the country folk of one land at least, had ceased to be mere unthinking cattle; they acted from intellect, not from sheer brute despair.
Within a week of Lexington an army of the Americans were gathered round Boston to defend their homes from further invasions by these foreigners. The English tried the issue again, and attacked the Americans at Bunker Hill.[2] The steady valor of the regular troops, engaged on a regular battle-ground, enabled them to drive the poorly armed peasants from their intrenchments. But the victory was won at such frightful expense of life to the British that it was not until forty years had brought forgetfulness, that they tried a similar assault in military form against the Americans at New Orleans. The farmers could shoot as well as think. After Bunker Hill the Revolution was recognized as a serious war, not a mere mad uprising of hopelessness. Washington took control of the destinies of America. Congress proclaimed its Independence.[3]
At this period Northern America became unfortunately and apparently permanently divided against itself. Canada, largely from its French origin and language, had always stood apart from the more southern English-speaking colonies. There had been repeated wars between them. But now when England had seized possession of Canada and within fifteen years of that event the southern colonists were fighting England, it did seem probable or at least hopeful that all America might unite against the common foe.
So thought the American Congress, and despatched a force, not against the inhabitants of Canada, but against the British troops there, to enable the Canadians to join in the revolt. The Canadians refused; the British forces were brilliantly handled, and the tiny American army, totally unequal to coping single-handed against the enemy and against the gigantic natural difficulties of the expedition, failed—failed gloriously but totally—and only roused anew against the southland the antagonism of the Canadians, mingled now with contempt and a growing admiration and even loyalty toward the Britons.[4]
Canada became a depot into which British troops were poured, and when Lord Howe and his army had captured New York, the English Government planned a powerful expedition to descend the Hudson valley, unite with Howe and so isolate New England from the less violently rebellious colonies farther south. On the success or failure of this undertaking hung the fate not only of the new continent, but one seeing the consequences now is almost tempted to say, the fate of the world.
The command was intrusted to Burgoyne, an experienced and capable general. Troops were given to him, it was thought, amply sufficient to overbear all opposition. There was no regular army to resist him. But the American farmers of the region rallied in their own defence, they hung like a cloud around Burgoyne's advance, they cut off his supplies, they became ever more numerous in his front, until at last he fought desperate battles against them, could not advance, and was compelled to surrender his entire army.[5]
Instantly the war assumed a new aspect. Europe awoke to the fact that England was engaged against a worthy foe. France, humbled in India, driven from America, defeated on her own borders, saw her opportunity for revenge, revenge against her hated rival. Moreover, the spirit of freedom which had been proclaimed by Voltaire, by Rousseau, by a thousand other voices, was awake in France; it saw its own cause, hopeless at home, being triumphantly defended in America; and it cried enthusiastically that the heroes should have aid. Spain, too, had sore causes of complaint against England. So France first and then Spain made alliance with the Americans. George III by his obstinacy had plunged his realm into sore difficulties, had given the final blow to any possible reëstablishment of kingly power in England.