The surrender of Cornwallis virtually closed the war.  The swift concentration of forces from North and South was due to Washington’s foresight and splendid energy, while its success was mainly due to the French, without whose aid the campaign could not have been concluded.

The moral and political effect of this “crowning mercy” was prodigious.  In England it broke up the ministry of Lord North, and made the English nation eager for peace, although it was a year or two before hostilities ceased, and it was not until September 3, 1783, that the treaty was signed which Franklin, Adams, and Jay had so adroitly negotiated.  The English king would have continued the contest against all hope, encouraged by the possession of New York and Charleston, but his personal government practically ceased with the acknowledgment of American independence.

The trials of Washington, however, did not end with the great victory at Yorktown.  There was a serious mutiny in the army which required all his tact to quell, arising from the neglect of Congress to pay the troops.  There was greater looseness of morals throughout the country than has been generally dreamed of.  I apprehend that farmers and mechanics were more profane, and drank, per capita, more cider and rum for twenty years succeeding the war than at any other period in our history.  It was then that it was intimated to Washington, in a letter from his friend Colonel Louis Nicola, that the state of the country and the impotence of Congress made it desirable that he should seize the government, and, supported by the army, turn all the confusion into order,—­which probably would have been easy for him to do, and which would have been justified by most historical writers.  But Washington repelled the idea with indignation, both for himself and the army; and not only on this occasion but on others when disaffection was rife, he utilized his own popularity to arouse anew the loyalty of the sorely tried patriots, his companions in arms.  Many are the precedents of usurpation on the part of successful generals, and few indeed are those who have voluntarily abdicated power from lofty and patriotic motives.  It was this virtual abdication which made so profound an impression on the European world,—­even more profound than was created by the military skill which Washington displayed in the long war of seven years.  It was a rare instance of magnanimity and absence of ambition which was not without its influence on the destinies of America, making it almost impossible for any future general to retain power after his work was done, and setting a proud and unique example of the superiority of moral excellence over genius and power.