This letter was, not long afterwards, followed by one from Sir Guy Carleton, declaring that he could discern no further object of contest, and that he disapproved of all farther hostilities by sea or land, which could only multiply the miseries of individuals, without a possible advantage to either nation. In pursuance of this opinion, he had, soon after his arrival in New York, restrained the practice of detaching parties of Indians against the frontiers of the United States, and had recalled those which were previously engaged in those bloody incursions.

These communications appear to have alarmed the jealousy of the minister of France. To quiet his fears, congress renewed the resolution "to enter into no discussion of any overtures for pacification, but in confidence and in concert with his most Christian Majesty;"[12] and again recommend to the several states to adopt such measures as would most effectually guard against all intercourse with any subjects of the British crown during the war.

[Footnote 12: Secret Journals of Congress, v. 3, p. 249.]

The same causes which produced this inactivity in the north, operated to a considerable extent with the armies of the south.

When General Wayne entered Georgia, the British troops in that state retired to the town of Savannah; and the Americans advanced to Ebenezer. Though inferior to their enemy in numbers, they interrupted his communications with the country, and even burned some magazines which had been collected and deposited under the protection of his guns.

Not receiving the aids from the militia which he had expected, Wayne pressed Greene for reinforcements, which that officer was unable to furnish, until Lieutenant Colonel Posey arrived from Virginia with about two hundred men. He proceeded immediately to Georgia, and reached the camp at Ebenezer on the 1st of April.

These troops, though new levies, were veteran soldiers, who, having served the times for which they enlisted, had become the substitutes of men who were designated, by lot, for tours of duty they were unwilling to perform. Being commanded by old officers of approved courage and experience, the utmost confidence was to be placed in them; and Wayne, though still inferior to his enemy in numbers, sought for opportunities to employ them.

The Indians, who occupied the southern and western parts of Georgia, were in the habit of assembling annually at Augusta, for the purpose of receiving those presents which were indispensable to the preservation of British influence over them. The usual time for holding these meetings was arrived; but the Americans being in possession of Augusta, it was necessary to transfer them to a British post, and the Indians were invited to keep down the south side of the Altamaha to its mouth, whence they were to be conveyed through the inland passage to Savannah. Arrangements had been made for bringing a strong party of Creeks and Choctaws, assembled on the south side of Altamaha, to Harris's bridge, on the Ogechee, about seven miles from that town, and Colonel Brown marched at the head of a strong detachment to convoy them into it. The Indians having quarrelled, instead of proceeding to Ogechee, returned home, and Brown marched back his detachment.

Wayne received intelligence of this movement; and, determining to avail himself of the opportunity given by this division of his enemy to fight him in detail, immediately put his army in motion. He was soon informed that Brown was on his return, and would reach Savannah that night. Disregarding the danger of throwing himself with inferior numbers between the two divisions of the British army, he determined on hazarding an action, and his advance, consisting of a troop of Virginia cavalry, commanded by Captain Hughes and Lieutenant Boyer, and a light company of Virginia infantry, commanded by Captain Parker, entered the road along which Brown was marching about twelve at night, just as his front appeared in view. A vigorous charge was instantly made, which, being entirely unexpected, was completely successful. The British, struck with a panic, dispersed among the thickets and fled in all directions. Colonel Douglass and about forty men were killed, wounded, or taken. The American loss was five men killed and two wounded. The next day, after parading in view of Savannah, Wayne resumed his position at Ebenezer.

The resolution of Parliament against the farther prosecution of active war in America was followed by instructions to the officers commanding the armies of Britain, in consequence of which propositions for the suspension of hostilities were made in the southern department, about the time that they were rejected in the north. The same motives continuing to influence congress, they were rejected in the south also, and the armies still continued to watch each other with vigilance. To avoid surprise, Wayne frequently changed his ground, and was continually on the alert. While his whole attention was directed towards Savannah, an enemy entirely unlooked for came upon his rear, entered his camp in the night, and, had not his army been composed of the best materials, must have dispersed it.

A strong party of Creeks, led by a gallant warrior, Emistasigo, or Guristersego, instead of moving down on the south side of the Altamaha, passed through the centre of Georgia with the determination of engaging the American posts. Marching entirely in the night, through unfrequented ways, subsisting on meal made of parched corn, and guided by white men, they reached the neighbourhood of the American army then encamped at Gibbon's plantation, near Savannah, without being perceived, and made arrangements to attack it. In the night they emerged from the deep swamp in which they had been concealed, and, approaching the rear of the American camp with the utmost secrecy, reached it about three in the morning. The sentinel was killed before he could sound the alarm, and the first notice was given by the fire and the yell of the enemy. The Indians rushed into the camp, and, killing the few men they fell in with, seized the artillery. Fortunately some time was wasted in the attempt to turn the pieces on the Americans. Captain Parker, who commanded the light company, had been employed on a very fatiguing tour of duty near Savannah, and had returned that evening to camp. To allow his harassed soldiers some repose, he was placed in the rear near the artillery, and was asleep when the Indians entered the camp. Roused by the fire, and perceiving that the enemy was amidst them, he judiciously drew off his men in silence, and formed them with the quarter guard behind the house in which the general was quartered. Wayne was instantly on horseback, and, believing the whole garrison from Savannah to be upon him, determined to repulse the enemy or die in the attempt. Parker was directed to charge immediately with the bayonet, and orders were despatched to Posey, the commanding officer in camp, to bring up the troops without delay. The orders to Parker were so promptly executed, that Posey, although he moved with the utmost celerity, could not reach the scene of action in time to join in it. The light troops and quarter guard under Parker drove every thing before them at the point of the bayonet. The Indians, unable to resist the bayonet, soon fled, leaving their chief, his white guides, and seventeen of his warriors dead upon the spot. Wayne, who accompanied his light troops, now first discovered the character of his enemy, and adapted his pursuit to it. Yet only twelve prisoners were made. The general's horse was shot under him, and twelve privates were killed and wounded.[13]

[Footnote 13: In addition to the public documents and accounts, the author received a statement of this action in a letter from his friend Captain Parker.]

This sharp conflict terminated the war in Georgia. Information was soon given of the determination to withdraw the British troops from Savannah; and arrangements being made, with the sanction of the civil government, for the security of such individuals as might remain in town, the place was evacuated. The regular troops retired to Charleston, and Colonel Brown conducted his loyalists through the islands into Florida. Wayne was directed to rejoin General Greene.

In South Carolina the American army maintained its position in front of Jacksonborough, and that of the British was confined to Charleston and its immediate vicinity. The situation of the ground as well as the condition of his army, was unfavourable to offensive operations on the part of General Greene; and General Leslie, who commanded in Charleston, was not strong enough to attempt the recovery of the lower country. While the two armies continued to watch each other, occasional enterprises were undertaken by detachments, in some of which a considerable degree of merit was displayed. In one of them, the corps of Marion, its general being attending in the legislature, was surprised and dispersed by the British Colonel Thompson; and in another, an English guard galley, mounting twelve guns, and manned with forty-three seamen, was captured by Captain Rudolph, of the legion.

From the possession of the lower country of South Carolina, which was known to contain considerable quantities of rice and beef cattle, the army had anticipated more regular and more abundant supplies of food than it had been accustomed to receive. This hope was disappointed by the measures of the government.

The generals, and other agents acting under the authority of congress, had been accustomed in extreme cases, which too frequently occurred, to seize provisions for the use of the armies. This questionable power had been exercised with forbearance, most commonly in concert with the government of the state, and under the pressure of such obvious necessity as carried its justification with it.

The war being transferred to the south at a time when the depreciation of paper money had deprived congress of its only fund, it became indispensably necessary to resort more generally to coercive means in order to procure subsistence for the troops. Popular discontent was the natural consequence of this odious measure, and the feelings of the people were communicated to their representatives. After the termination of the very active campaign of 1781 in Virginia, the legislature of that state passed a law prohibiting all impressment, "unless it be by warrant from the executive in time of actual invasion;" and the assembly of South Carolina, during the session at Jacksonborough, also passed a law forbidding impressment, and enacting, "that no other persons than those who shall be appointed by the governor for that purpose, shall be allowed or permitted to procure supplies for the army."

The effect of this measure was soon felt. The exertions of the agent appointed by the governor failed to procure subsistence for the troops, and General Greene, after a long course of suffering, was compelled to relieve his urgent wants by an occasional recurrence to means forbidden by the law.

Privations, which had been borne without a murmur under the excitement of active military operations, produced great irritation during the leisure which prevailed after the enemy had abandoned the open field; and, in the Pennsylvania line, which was composed chiefly of foreigners, the discontent was aggravated to such a point as to produce a treasonable intercourse with the enemy, in which a plot is understood to have been laid for seizing General Greene and delivering him to a detachment of British troops, which would move out of Charleston for the purpose of favouring the execution of the design. It was discovered when it is supposed to have been on the point of execution; and a sergeant Gornell, believed to be the chief of the conspiracy, was condemned to death by a court martial, and executed on the 22nd of April. Some others, among whom were two domestics in the general's family, were brought before the court on suspicion of being concerned in the plot, but the testimony was not sufficient to convict them; and twelve deserted the night after it was discovered. There is no reason to believe that the actual guilt of this transaction extended farther.

{July 11.}

Charleston was held until the 14th of December. Previous to its evacuation, General Leslie had proposed a cessation of hostilities, and that his troops might be supplied with fresh provisions, in exchange for articles of the last necessity in the American camp. The policy of government being adverse to this proposition, General Greene was under the necessity of refusing his assent to it, and the British general continued to supply his wants by force. This produced several skirmishes with foraging parties, to one of which importance was given by the death of Lieutenant Colonel Laurens, whose loss was universally lamented.

This gallant and accomplished young gentleman had entered into the family of the Commander-in-chief at an early period of the war, and had always shared a large portion of his esteem. Brave to excess, he sought every occasion to render service to his country, and to acquire that military fame which he pursued with the ardour of a young soldier, whose courage seems to have partaken largely of that romantic spirit which youth and enthusiasm produce in a fearless mind. No small addition to the regrets occasioned by his loss was derived from the reflection that he fell unnecessarily, in an unimportant skirmish, in the last moments of the war, when his rash exposure to the danger which proved fatal to him could no longer be useful to his country.

From the arrival of Sir Guy Carleton at New York, the conduct of the British armies on the American continent was regulated by the spirit then recently displayed in the house of commons; and all the sentiments expressed by their general were pacific and conciliatory. But to these nattering appearances it was dangerous to yield implicit confidence. With a change of men, a change of measures might also take place; and, in addition to the ordinary suggestions of prudence, the military events in the West Indies were calculated to keep alive the attention, and to continue the anxieties of the United States.

After the surrender of Lord Cornwallis, the arms of France and Spain in the American seas had been attended with such signal success, that the hope of annihilating the power of Great Britain in the West Indies was not too extravagant to be indulged. Immense preparations had been made for the invasion of Jamaica; and, early in April, Admiral Count de Grasse sailed from Martinique with a powerful fleet, having on board the land forces and artillery which were to be employed in the operations against that island. His intention was to form a junction with the Spanish Admiral Don Solano, who lay at Hispaniola; after which the combined fleet, whose superiority promised to render it irresistible, was to proceed on the important enterprise which had been concerted. On his way to Hispaniola, De Grasse was overtaken by Rodney, and brought to an engagement, in which he was totally defeated, and made a prisoner. This decisive victory disconcerted the plans of the combined powers, and gave security to the British islands. In the United States, it was feared that this alteration in the aspect of affairs might influence the councils of the English cabinet on the question of peace; and these apprehensions increased the uneasiness with which all intelligent men contemplated the state of the American finances.

It was then in contemplation to reduce the army, by which many of the officers would be discharged. While the general declared, in a confidential letter to the secretary of war, his conviction of the alacrity with which they would retire into private life, could they be placed in a situation as eligible as they had left to enter into the service, he added—"Yet I cannot help fearing the result of the measure, when I see such a number of men goaded by a thousand stings of reflection on the past, and of anticipation on the future, about to be turned on the world, soured by penury, and what they call the ingratitude of the public; involved in debts, without one farthing of money to carry them home, after having spent the flower of their days, and, many of them, their patrimonies, in establishing the freedom and independence of their country; and having suffered every thing which human nature is capable of enduring on this side of death. I repeat it, when I reflect on these irritating circumstances, unattended by one thing to soothe their feelings, or brighten the gloomy prospect, I cannot avoid apprehending that a train of evils will follow of a very serious and distressing nature.

"I wish not to heighten the shades of the picture so far as the real life would justify me in doing, or I would give anecdotes of patriotism and distress which have scarcely ever been paralleled, never surpassed, in the history of mankind. But you may rely upon it, the patience and long sufferance of this army are almost exhausted, and there never was so great a spirit of discontent as at this instant. While in the field, I think it may be kept from breaking out into acts of outrage; but when we retire into winter quarters (unless the storm be previously dissipated) I can not be at ease respecting the consequences. It is high time for a peace."

To judge rightly of the motives which produced this uneasy temper in the army, it will be necessary to recollect that the resolution of October, 1780, granting half pay for life to the officers, stood on the mere faith of a government possessing no funds enabling it to perform its engagements. From requisitions alone, to be made on sovereign states, the supplies were to be drawn which should satisfy these meritorious public creditors; and the ill success attending these requisitions while the dangers of war were still impending, furnished melancholy presages of their unproductiveness in time of peace. In addition to this reflection, of itself sufficient to disturb the tranquillity which the passage of the resolution had produced, were other considerations of decisive influence. The dispositions manifested by congress itself were so unfriendly to the half pay establishment as to extinguish the hope that any funds the government might acquire, would be applied to that object. Since the passage of the resolution, the articles of confederation, which required the concurrence of nine states to any act appropriating public money, had been adopted; and nine states had never been in favour of the measure. Should the requisitions of congress therefore be respected, or should permanent funds be granted by the states, the prevailing sentiment of the nation was too hostile to the compensation which had been stipulated, to leave a probability that it would be substantially made. This was not merely the sentiment of the individuals then administering the government, which might change with a change of men. It was known to be the sense of the states they represented; and consequently the hope could not be indulged that, on this subject, a future congress would be more just, or would think more liberally. As therefore the establishment of that independence for which they had fought and suffered appeared to become more certain,—as the end of their toils approached—the officers became more attentive to their own situation; and the inquietude of the army increased with the progress of the negotiation.

In October, the French troops marched to Boston, in order to embark for the West Indies; and the Americans retired into winter quarters. The apparent indisposition of the British general to act offensively, the pacific temper avowed by the cabinet of London, and the strength of the country in which the American troops were cantoned, gave ample assurance that no military operations would be undertaken during the winter, which could require the continuance of General Washington in camp. But the irritable temper of the army furnished cause for serious apprehension; and he determined to forego every gratification to be derived from a suspension of his toils, in order to watch its discontents.

While the situation of the United States thus loudly called for peace, the negotiations in Europe were protracted by causes which, in America, were almost unknown, and which it would have been dangerous to declare. Although, so far as respected the dismemberment of the British empire, the war had been carried on with one common design, the ulterior views of the belligerent powers were not only different, but, in some respects, incompatible with each other. To depress a proud and hated rival was so eagerly desired by the house of Bourbon, that France and Spain might be disposed to continue hostilities for the attainment of objects in which America could feel no common interest. This circumstance, of itself, furnished motives for prolonging the war, after the causes in which it originated were removed; and additional delays were produced by the discordant views which were entertained in regard to those claims which were the subject of negotiation. These were, the boundaries which should be assigned to the United States, and the participation which should be allowed them in the fisheries. On both these points, the wishes of France and Spain were opposed to those of America; and the cabinets both of Versailles and Madrid, seemed disposed to intrigue with that of London, to prevent such ample concessions respecting them, as the British minister might be inclined to make.

[Sidenote: Preliminary and eventual articles agreed upon between the United States and Great Britain.]

{Nov. 30.}

After an intricate negotiation, in which the penetration, judgment, and firmness, of the American commissioners were eminently displayed, eventual and preliminary articles were signed on the 30th of November. By this treaty every reasonable wish of America, especially on the questions of boundary and of the fisheries, was gratified.

The liberality of the articles on these points attests the success which attended the endeavours of the plenipotentiaries of the United States, to prove that the real interests of England required that America should become independent in fact, as well as name; and that every cause of future discord between the two nations should be removed.

{1783}

The effect of this treaty was suspended until peace should be concluded between France and Great Britain. The connexions between their most Christian and Catholic Majesties not admitting of a separate peace on the part of either, the negotiations between the belligerent powers of Europe had been protracted by the persevering endeavours of Spain to obtain the cession of Gibraltar. At length, the formidable armament which had invested that fortress was repulsed with immense slaughter; after which the place was relieved by Lord Howe, and the besiegers abandoned the enterprise in despair. Negotiations were then taken up with sincerity; and preliminary articles of peace between Great Britain, France, and Spain, were signed on the 20th of January, 1783.

[Sidenote: Discontents of the American Army.]

In America, the approach of peace, combined with other causes, produced a state of things alike interesting and critical. The officers who had wasted their fortunes and their prime of life in unrewarded service, fearing, with reason, that congress possessed neither the power nor the inclination to comply with its engagements to the army, could not look with unconcern at the prospect which was opening to them. In December, soon after going into winter quarters, they presented a petition to congress, respecting the money actually due to them, and proposing a commutation of the half pay stipulated by the resolutions of October, 1780, for a sum in gross, which, they nattered themselves, would encounter fewer prejudices than the half pay establishment. Some security that the engagements of the government would be complied with was also requested. A committee of officers was deputed to solicit the attention of congress to this memorial, and to attend its progress through the house.

Among the most distinguished members of the federal government, were persons sincerely disposed to do ample justice to the public creditors generally, and to that class of them particularly whose claims were founded in military service. But many viewed the army with jealous eyes, acknowledged its merit with unwillingness, and betrayed, involuntarily, their repugnance to a faithful observance of the public engagements. With this question, another of equal importance was connected, on which congress was divided almost in the same manner. One party was attached to a state, the other to a continental system. The latter laboured to fund the public debts on solid continental security, while the former opposed their whole weight to measures calculated to effect that object.

In consequence of these divisions on points of the deepest interest, the business of the army advanced slowly, and the important question respecting the commutation of their half pay remained undecided, when intelligence was received of the signature of the preliminary and eventual articles of peace between the United States and Great Britain.

[Sidenote: Anonymous letters and the proceedings in consequence thereof.]

The officers, soured by their past sufferings, their present wants, and their gloomy prospects—exasperated by the neglect which they experienced, and the injustice which they apprehended, manifested an irritable and uneasy temper, which required only a slight impulse to give it activity. To render this temper the more dangerous, an opinion had been insinuated that the Commander-in-chief was restrained, by extreme delicacy, from supporting their interests with that zeal which his feelings and knowledge of their situation had inspired. Early in March, a letter was received from their committee in Philadelphia, showing that the objects they solicited had not been obtained. On the 10th of that month, an anonymous paper was circulated, requiring a meeting of the general and field officers at the public building on the succeeding day at eleven in the morning; and announcing the expectation that an officer from each company, and a delegate from the medical staff would attend. The object of the meeting was avowed to be, "to consider the late letter from their representatives in Philadelphia, and what measures (if any) should be adopted to obtain that redress of grievances which they seemed to have solicited in vain."

On the same day an address to the army was privately circulated, which was admirably well calculated to work on the passions of the moment, and to lead to the most desperate resolutions. Full justice can not be done to this eloquent paper without inserting it entire.

"To the officers of the army.

"Gentlemen,

"A fellow soldier, whose interests and affections bend him strongly to you, whose past sufferings have been as great, and whose future fortune may be as desperate as yours, would beg leave to address you.

"Age has its claims, and rank is not without its pretensions, to advise; but though unsupported by both, he flatters himself that the plain language of sincerity and experience will neither be unheard nor unregarded.

"Like many of you, he loved private life, and left it with regret. He left it, determined to retire from the field with the necessity that called him to it, and not until then—not until the enemies of his country, the slaves of power, and the hirelings of injustice, were compelled to abandon their schemes, and acknowledge America as terrible in arms as she had been humble in remonstrance. With this object in view, he has long shared in your toils, and mingled in your dangers. He has felt the cold hand of poverty without a murmur, and has seen the insolence of wealth without a sigh. But too much under the direction of his wishes, and sometimes weak enough to mistake desire for opinion, he has until lately—very lately—believed in the justice of his country. He hoped that, as the clouds of adversity scattered, and as the sunshine of peace and better fortune broke in upon us, the coldness and severity of government would relax, and that more than justice, that gratitude would blaze forth upon those hands which had upheld her in the darkest stages of her passage from impending servitude to acknowledged independence. But faith has its limits, as well as temper, and there are points beyond which neither can be stretched without sinking into cowardice, or plunging into credulity. This, my friends, I conceive to be your situation. Hurried to the very verge of both, another step would ruin you for ever. To be tame and unprovoked when injuries press hard upon you, is more than weakness; but to look up for kinder usage without one manly effort of your own, would fix your character, and show the world how richly you deserve those chains you broke. To guard against this evil, let us take a review of the ground upon which we now stand, and from thence carry our thoughts forward for a moment into the unexplored field of expedient.

"After a pursuit of seven long years, the object for which we set out is at length brought within our reach.—Yes, my friends, that suffering courage of yours was active once.—It has conducted the United States of America through a doubtful and a bloody war.—It has placed her in the chair of independency; and peace returns again to bless—whom?—A country willing to redress your wrongs, cherish your worth, and reward your services? A country courting your return to private life with tears of gratitude and smiles of admiration—longing to divide with you that independency which your gallantry has given, and those riches which your wounds have preserved? Is this the case? Or is it rather a country that tramples upon your rights, disdains your cries, and insults your distresses? Have you not more than once suggested your wishes and made known your wants to congress? Wants and wishes which gratitude and policy would have anticipated rather than evaded; and have you not lately, in the meek language of entreating memorials, begged from their justice what you could no longer expect from their favour? How have you been answered? Let the letter which you are called to consider to-morrow reply.

"If this then be your treatment while the swords you wear are necessary for the defence of America, what have you to expect from peace, when your voice shall sink, and your strength dissipate by division? When those very swords, the instruments and companions of your glory, shall be taken from your sides, and no remaining mark of military distinction left but your wants, infirmities, and scars? Can you then consent to be the only sufferers by this revolution, and, retiring from the field, grow old in poverty, wretchedness, and contempt? Can you consent to wade through the vile mire of dependency, and owe the miserable remnant of that life to charity which has hitherto been spent in honour? If you can—go—and carry with you the jest of tories, and the scorn of whigs;—the ridicule, and, what is worse, the pity of the world. Go,—starve and be forgotten. But if your spirit should revolt at this; if you have sense enough to discover, and spirit enough to oppose, tyranny under whatever garb it may assume; whether it be the plain coat of republicanism, or the splendid robe of royalty; if you have yet learned to discriminate between a people and a cause, between men and principles,—awake; attend to your situation, and redress yourselves. If the present moment be lost, every future effort is in vain; and your threats then will be as empty as your entreaties now.

"I would advise you therefore to come to some final opinion upon what you can bear, and what you will suffer. If your determination be in any proportion to your wrongs, carry your appeal from the justice to the fears of the government. Change the milk-and-water style of your last memorial. Assume a bolder tone,—decent, but lively, spirited, and determined; and suspect the man who would advise to more moderation and longer forbearance. Let two or three men who can feel as well as write, be appointed to draw up your last remonstrance; for I would no longer give it the sueing, soft, unsuccessful epithet of memorial. Let it be represented in language that will neither dishonour you by its rudeness, nor betray you by its fears, what has been promised by congress, and what has been performed;—how long and how patiently you have suffered;—how little you have asked, and how much of that little has been denied. Tell them that, though you were the first, and would wish to be the last to encounter danger; though despair itself can never drive you into dishonour, it may drive you from the field;—that the wound often irritated and never healed, may at length become incurable; and that the slightest mark of indignity from congress now must operate like the grave, and part you forever; that in any political event, the army has its alternative. If peace, that nothing shall separate you from your arms but death; if war, that courting the auspices, and inviting the directions of your illustrious leader, you will retire to some unsettled country, smile in your turn, and 'mock when their fear cometh on.' But let it represent also that, should they comply with the request of your late memorial, it would make you more happy and them more respectable. That while war should continue you would follow their standard into the field; and when it came to an end, you would withdraw into the shade of private life, and give the world another subject of wonder and applause;—an army victorious over its enemies, victorious over itself."

Persuaded as the officers in general were of the indisposition of government to remunerate their services, this eloquent and impassioned address, dictated by genius and by feeling, found in almost every bosom a kindred though latent sentiment prepared to receive its impression. Quick as the train to which a torch is applied, the passions caught its flame, and nothing seemed to be required but the assemblage proposed for the succeeding day, to communicate the conflagration to the combustible mass, and to produce an explosion ruinous to the army and to the nation.

Fortunately, the Commander-in-chief was in camp. His characteristic firmness and decision did not forsake him in this crisis. The occasion required that his measures should be firm, but prudent and conciliatory,—evincive of his fixed determination to oppose any rash proceedings, but calculated to assuage the irritation which was excited, and to restore confidence in government.

Knowing well that it was much easier to avoid intemperate measures than to correct them, he thought it of essential importance to prevent the immediate meeting of the officers; but, knowing also that a sense of injury and a fear of injustice had made a deep impression on them, and that their sensibilities were all alive to the proceedings of congress on their memorial, he thought it more adviseable to guide their deliberations on that interesting subject, than to discountenance them.

With these views, he noticed in his orders, the anonymous paper proposing a meeting of the officers, and expressed his conviction that their good sense would secure them from paying any "attention to such an irregular invitation; but his own duty, he conceived, as well as the reputation and true interest of the army, required his disapprobation of such disorderly proceedings. At the same time, he requested the general and field officers, with one officer from each company, and a proper representation from the staff of the army, to assemble at twelve on Saturday, the 15th, at the new building, to hear the report of the committee deputed by the army to congress. After mature deliberation they will devise what farther measures ought to be adopted as most rational and best calculated to obtain the just and important object in view." The senior officer in rank present was directed to preside, and report the result of the deliberations to the Commander-in-chief.

The day succeeding that on which these orders were published, a second anonymous address appeared, from the same pen which had written the first. Its author, acquainted with the discontents of the army, did not seem to despair of impelling the officers to the desired point. He affected to consider the orders in a light favourable to his views:—"as giving system to their proceedings, and stability to their resolves."

But Washington would not permit himself to be misunderstood. The interval between his orders and the general meeting they invited, was employed in impressing on those officers individually who possessed the greatest share of the general confidence, a just sense of the true interests of the army; and the whole weight of his influence was exerted to calm the agitations of the moment, and conduct them to a happy termination. This was a work of no inconsiderable difficulty. So convinced were many that government designed to deal unfairly by them, that only the reliance they placed on their general, and their attachment to his person and character, could have moderated their resentments so far as to induce them to adopt the measures he recommended.

On the 15th, the convention of officers assembled, and General Gates[14] took the chair. The Commander-in-chief then addressed them in the following terms.

[Footnote 14: By a resolution of the preceding year, the inquiry into his conduct had been dispensed with, and he had been restored to his command in the army.]

"Gentlemen,—

"By an anonymous summons, an attempt has been made to convene you together. How inconsistent with the rules of propriety, how unmilitary, and how subversive of all order and discipline, let the good sense of the army decide.

"In the moment of this summons, another anonymous production was sent into circulation, addressed more to the feelings and passions than to the judgment of the army. The author of the piece is entitled to much credit for the goodness of his pen; and I could wish he had as much credit for the rectitude of his heart; for as men see through different optics, and are induced by the reflecting faculties of the mind, to use different means to attain the same end, the author of the address should have had more charity, than to mark for suspicion the man who should recommend moderation and longer forbearance; or, in other words, who should not think as he thinks, and act as he advises. But he had another plan in view, in which candour and liberality of sentiment, regard to justice, and love of country, have no part; and he was right to insinuate the darkest suspicion to effect the blackest design. That the address was drawn with great art, and is designed to answer the most insidious purposes; that it is calculated to impress the mind with an idea of premeditated injustice, in the sovereign power of the United States, and rouse all those resentments which must unavoidably flow from such a belief; that the secret mover of this scheme, whoever he may be, intended to take advantage of the passions, while they were warmed by the recollection of past distresses, without giving time for cool deliberate thinking, and that composure of mind which is so necessary to give dignity and stability to measures, is rendered too obvious by the mode of conducting the business to need other proof than a reference to the proceedings.

"Thus much, gentlemen, I have thought it incumbent on me to observe to you, to show upon what principles I opposed the irregular and hasty meeting which was proposed to have been held on Tuesday last, and not because I wanted a disposition to give you every opportunity consistent with your own honour, and the dignity of the army, to make known your grievances. If my conduct heretofore has not evinced to you, that I have been a faithful friend to the army, my declaration of it at this time would be equally unavailing and improper. But as I was among the first who embarked in the cause of our common country; as I have never left your side one moment but when called from you on public duty; as I have been the constant companion and witness of your distresses, and not among the last to feel and acknowledge your merits; as I have ever considered my own military reputation as inseparably connected with that of the army; as my heart has ever expanded with joy when I have heard its praises, and my indignation has arisen when the mouth of detraction has been opened against it; it can scarcely be supposed, at this last stage of the war, that I am indifferent to its interests. But how are they to be promoted? The way is plain, says the anonymous addresser.—If war continues, remove into the unsettled country; there establish yourselves, and leave an ungrateful country to defend itself! But who are they to defend? Our wives, our children, our farms and other property which we leave behind us? Or, in this state of hostile separation, are we to take the two first (the latter can not be removed) to perish in a wilderness with hunger, cold, and nakedness?

"'If peace takes place, never sheath your swords,' says he, 'until you have obtained full and ample justice.' This dreadful alternative of either deserting our country in the extremest hour of her distress, or turning our arms against it, which is the apparent object, unless Congress can be compelled into instant compliance, has something so shocking in it, that humanity revolts at the idea. My God! what can this writer have in view by recommending such measures. Can he be a friend to the army? Can he be a friend to this country? Rather is he not an insidious foe: some emissary, perhaps, from New York, plotting the ruin of both, by sowing the seeds of discord and separation between the civil and military powers of the continent? And what a compliment does he pay to our understandings, when he recommends measures, in either alternative, impracticable in their nature? But here, gentlemen, I will drop the curtain, because it would be as imprudent in me to assign my reasons for this opinion, as it would be insulting to your conception to suppose you stood in need of them. A moment's reflection will convince every dispassionate mind of the physical impossibility of carrying either proposal into execution. There might, gentlemen, be an impropriety in my taking notice, in this address to you, of an anonymous production,—but the manner in which that performance has been introduced to the army, together with some other circumstances, will amply justify my observations on the tendency of that writing.

"With respect to the advice given by the author, to suspect the man who shall recommend moderate measures and longer forbearance, I spurn it, as every man who regards that liberty, and reveres that justice for which we contend, undoubtedly must; for if men are to be precluded from offering their sentiments on a matter which may involve the most serious and alarming consequences that can invite the consideration of mankind, reason is of no use to us. The freedom of speech may be taken away, and dumb and silent, we may be led like sheep to the slaughter. I can not in justice to my own belief, and what I have great reason to conceive is the intention of congress, conclude this address, without giving it as my decided opinion, that that honourable body entertain exalted sentiments of the services of the army, and, from a full conviction of its merits and sufferings, will do it complete justice. That their endeavours to discover and establish funds for this purpose have been unwearied, and will not cease until they have succeeded, I have not a doubt.

"But, like all other large bodies, where there is a variety of different interests to reconcile, their determinations are slow. Why then should we distrust them? And, in consequence of that distrust, adopt measures which may cast a shade over that glory which has been so justly acquired, and tarnish the reputation of an army which is celebrated through all Europe for its fortitude and patriotism? And for what is this done? To bring the object we seek nearer? No: most certainly, in my opinion, it will cast it at a greater distance. For myself, (and I take no merit in giving the assurance, being induced to it from principles of gratitude, veracity, and justice, and a grateful sense of the confidence you have ever placed in me,) a recollection of the cheerful assistance, and prompt obedience I have experienced from you, under every vicissitude of fortune, and the sincere affection I feel for an army I have so long had the honour to command, will oblige me to declare in this public and solemn manner, that in the attainment of complete justice for all your toils and dangers, and in the gratification of every wish, so far as may be done consistently with the great duty I owe my country, and those powers we are bound to respect, you may freely command my services to the utmost extent of my abilities.

"While I give these assurances, and pledge myself in the most unequivocal manner to exert whatever abilities I am possessed of in your favour, let me entreat you, gentlemen, on your part, not to take any measures which, viewed in the calm light of reason, will lessen the dignity, and sully the glory you have hitherto maintained. Let me request you to rely on the plighted faith of your country, and place a full confidence in the purity of the intentions of congress;—that, previous to your dissolution as an army, they will cause all your accounts to be fairly liquidated, as directed in the resolutions which were published to you two days ago; and that they will adopt the most effectual measures in their power to render ample justice to you for your faithful and meritorious services. And let me conjure you, in the name of our common country, as you value your own honour, as you respect the rights of humanity, and as you regard the military and national character of America, to express your utmost horror and detestation of the man who wishes, under any specious pretences, to overturn the liberties of our country, and who wickedly attempts to open the flood gates of civil discord, and deluge our rising empire in blood.

"By thus determining, and thus acting, you will pursue the plain and direct road to the attainment of your wishes; you will defeat the insidious designs of our enemies, who are compelled to resort from open force to secret artifice. You will give one more distinguished proof of unexampled patriotism and patient virtue, rising superior to the pressure of the most complicated sufferings; and you will by the dignity of your conduct, afford occasion for posterity to say, when speaking of the glorious example you have exhibited to mankind, had this day been wanting, the world had never seen the last stage of perfection to which human nature is capable of attaining."

These sentiments from a person whom the army had been accustomed to love, to revere, and to obey; the solidity of whose judgment, and the sincerity of whose zeal for their interests, were alike unquestioned, could not fail to be irresistible. No person was hardy enough to oppose the advice he had given; and the general impression was apparent. A resolution moved by General Knox, and seconded by Brigadier General Putnam, "assuring him that the officers reciprocated his affectionate expressions with the greatest sincerity of which the human heart is capable," was unanimously voted. On the motion of General Putnam, a committee consisting of General Knox, Colonel Brooks, and Captain Howard was then appointed, to prepare resolutions on the business before them, and to report in half an hour. The report of the committee being brought in and considered, the following resolutions were passed.

"Resolved unanimously, that at the commencement of the present war, the officers of the American army engaged in the service of their country from the purest love and attachment to the rights and privileges of human nature; which motives still exist in the highest degree; and that no circumstances of distress or danger shall induce a conduct that may tend to sully the reputation and glory which they have acquired at the price of their blood, and eight years faithful services.

"Resolved unanimously, that the army continue to have an unshaken confidence in the justice of congress and their country, and are fully convinced that the representatives of America will not disband or disperse the army until their accounts are liquidated, the balances accurately ascertained, and adequate funds established for payment; and in this arrangement, the officers expect that the half pay, or a commutation for it, shall be efficaciously comprehended.

"Resolved unanimously, that his excellency the Commander-in-chief, be requested to write to his excellency the president of congress, earnestly entreating the most speedy decision of that honourable body upon the subject of our late address, which was forwarded by a committee of the army, some of whom are waiting upon congress for the result. In the alternative of peace or war, this event would be highly satisfactory, and would produce immediate tranquillity in the minds of the army, and prevent any farther machinations of designing men, to sow discord between the civil and military powers of the United States.

"On motion, resolved unanimously, that the officers of the American army view with abhorrence and reject with disdain, the infamous propositions contained in a late anonymous address to the officers of the army, and resent with indignation the secret attempts of some unknown person to collect the officers together in a manner totally subversive of all discipline and good order.

"Resolved unanimously, that the thanks of the officers of the army be given to the committee who presented to congress the late address of the army; for the wisdom and prudence with which they have conducted that business; and that a copy of the proceedings of this day be transmitted by the president to Major General M'Dougal; and that he be requested to continue his solicitations at congress until the objects of his mission are accomplished."

The storm which had been raised so suddenly and unexpectedly being thus happily dissipated, the Commander-in-chief exerted all his influence in support of the application the officers had made to congress. The following letter, written by him on the occasion, will show that he was not impelled to this measure by the engagements he had entered into more strongly than by his feelings.

"The result of the proceedings of the grand convention of the officers, which I have the honour of enclosing to your excellency for the inspection of congress, will, I flatter myself, be considered as the last glorious proof of patriotism which could have been given by men who aspired to the distinction of a patriot army; and will not only confirm their claim to the justice, but will increase their title to the gratitude of their country.

"Having seen the proceedings on the part of the army terminate with perfect unanimity, and in a manner entirely consonant to my wishes, being impressed with the liveliest sentiments of affection for those who have so long, so patiently, and so cheerfully, suffered and fought under my direction; having from motives of justice, duty, and gratitude, spontaneously offered myself as an advocate for their rights; and having been requested to write to your excellency, earnestly entreating the most speedy decision of congress upon the subjects of the late address from the army to that honourable body; it now only remains for me to perform the task I have assumed, and to intercede in their behalf, as I now do, that the sovereign power will be pleased to verify the predictions I have pronounced of, and the confidence the army have reposed in, the justice of their country.

"And here I humbly conceive it is altogether unnecessary (while I am pleading the cause of an army which have done and suffered more than any other army ever did in the defence of the rights and liberties of human nature) to expatiate on their claims to the most ample compensation for their meritorious services, because they are perfectly known to the whole world, and because (although the topics are inexhaustible) enough has already been said on the subject. To prove these assertions, to evince that my sentiments have ever been uniform, and to show what my ideas of the rewards in question have always been, I appeal to the archives of congress, and call on those sacred deposites to witness for me. And in order that my observations and arguments in favour of a future adequate provision for the officers of the army may be brought to remembrance again, and considered in a single point of view, without giving congress the trouble of having recourse to their files, I will beg leave to transmit herewith an extract from a representation made by me to a committee of congress, so long ago as the 20th of January, 1778, and also the transcript of a letter to the president of congress, dated near Passaic falls, October the 11th, 1780.

"That in the critical and perilous moment when the last mentioned communication was made, there was the utmost danger a dissolution of the army would have taken place unless measures similar to those recommended had been adopted, will not admit a doubt. That the adoption of the resolution granting half pay for life has been attended with all the happy consequences I foretold, so far as respected the good of the service, let the astonishing contrast between the state of the army at this instant and at the former period, determine. And that the establishment of funds, and security of the payment of all the just demands of the army, will be the most certain means of preserving the national faith, and future tranquillity of this extensive continent, is my decided opinion.

"By the preceding remarks, it will readily be imagined that, instead of retracting and reprehending (from farther experience and reflection) the mode of compensation so strenuously urged in the enclosures, I am more and more confirmed in the sentiment; and if in the wrong, suffer me to please myself in the grateful delusion. For if, besides the simple payment of their wages, a farther compensation is not due to the sufferings and sacrifices of the officers, then have I been mistaken indeed. If the whole army have not merited whatever a grateful people can bestow, then have I been beguiled by prejudice, and built opinion on the basis of error. If this country should not in the event perform every thing which has been requested in the late memorial to congress, then will my belief become vain, and the hope that has been excited void of foundation. 'And if (as has been suggested for the purpose of inflaming their passions) the officers of the army are to be the only sufferers by this revolution; if, retiring from the field, they are to grow old in poverty, wretchedness, and contempt; if they are to wade through the vile mire of dependency, and owe the miserable remnant of that life to charity which has hitherto been spent in honour,' then shall I have learned what ingratitude is; then shall I have realized a tale which will embitter every moment of my future life.

"But I am under no such apprehensions. A country rescued by their arms from impending ruin, will never leave unpaid the debt of gratitude.

"Should any intemperate and improper warmth have mingled itself among the foregoing observations, I must entreat your excellency and congress that it may be attributed to the effusions of an honest zeal in the best of causes, and that my peculiar situation may be my apology; and I hope I need not, on this momentous occasion, make any new protestations of disinterestedness, having ever renounced for myself the idea of pecuniary reward. The consciousness of having attempted faithfully to discharge my duty, and the approbation of my country, will be a sufficient recompense for my services."

{March 24.}

[Sidenote: Peace concluded.]

{April 19.}

These proceedings of the army produced a concurrence of nine states in favour of a resolution commuting the half pay into a sum in gross equal to five years full pay; immediately after the passage of which, the fears still entertained in America that the war might continue, were dissipated by a letter from the Marquis de Lafayette, announcing a general peace. This intelligence, though not official, was certain; and orders were immediately issued, recalling all armed vessels cruising under the authority of the United States. Early in April, the copy of a declaration published in Paris, and signed by the American commissioners, announcing the exchange of ratifications of the preliminary articles between Great Britain and France, was received; and on the 19th of that month, the cessation[15] of hostilities was proclaimed.

[Footnote 15: See note, No. I. at the end of the volume.]

[Sidenote: Measures for disbanding the army.]

The attention of congress might now be safely turned to the reduction of the army. This, in the empty state of the treasury, was a critical operation. In addition to the anxieties which the officers would naturally feel respecting their provision for the future, which of necessity remained unsecured, large arrears of pay were due to them, the immediate receipt of part of which was required by the most urgent wants. To disband an army to which the government was greatly indebted, without furnishing the individuals who composed it with the means of conveyance to their respective homes, was a perilous measure; and congress was unable to advance the pay of a single month.

Although eight millions had been required for the year 1782, the payments into the public treasury had amounted to only four hundred and twenty thousand and thirty-one dollars, and twenty-nine ninetieths; and the foreign loans had not been sufficient to defray expenses it was impossible to avoid, at the close of that year, the expenditures of the superintendent of the finances had exceeded his receipts four hundred and four thousand seven hundred and thirteen dollars and nine ninetieths; and the excess continued to increase rapidly.

Congress urged the states to comply so far with the requisitions as to enable the superintendent of the finances to advance a part of the arrears due to the soldiers; but, as the foreign danger diminished, they became still less attentive to these demands; and the financier was under the necessity of making farther anticipations of the revenue. Measures were taken to advance three months pay in his notes; but, before they could be prepared, orders were issued for complying with a resolution of Congress for granting unlimited furloughs to the non-commissioned officers and privates who were engaged to serve during the war. These orders produced a serious alarm. The generals, and officers commanding regiments and corps cantoned on the Hudson, assembled, and presented an address to the Commander-in-chief, in which the most ardent affection to his person, and confidence in his attachment to the interests of the army, were mingled with expressions of profound duty and respect for the government. But they declared that, after the late explanation on their claims, they had confidently expected that their accounts would be liquidated, the balances ascertained, and adequate funds for the payment of those balances provided, before they should be dispersed or disbanded.

Bound to the army by the strongest ties of affection and gratitude, intimately convinced of the justice of their claims, and of the patriotic principles by which they were influenced, the General was induced by sentiment not less than by prudence, to regard this application. He returned an answer, on the succeeding day, in which, after declaring "that as no man could possibly be better acquainted than himself with the past merits and services of the army, so no one could possibly be more strongly impressed with their present ineligible situation; feel a keener sensibility at their distresses; or more ardently desire to alleviate or remove them." He added, "although the officers of the army very well know my official situation, that I am only a servant of the public, and that it is not for me to dispense with orders which it is my duty to carry into execution, yet as furloughs in all services are considered as a matter of indulgence, and not of compulsion; as congress, I am persuaded, entertain the best disposition towards the army; and as I apprehend in a very short time, the two principal articles of complaint will be removed; until the farther pleasure of congress can be known, I shall not hesitate to comply with the wishes of the army, under these reservations only, that officers sufficient to conduct the men who choose to receive furloughs, will attend them, either on furlough or by detachment."

This answer satisfied the officers. The utmost good temper was manifested; and the arrangements for retiring on furlough were made without a murmur. In the course of the summer, a considerable proportion of the troops enlisted for three years were also permitted to return to their homes; and, in October, a proclamation was issued by congress, declaring all those who had engaged for the war to be discharged on the third of December.

[Illustration: The Long Room in Fraunces' Tavern, New York City

It was here that Washington took formal leave of his officers, preparatory to resigning his commission as Commander-in-Chief of the Continental Army. Controlling his emotion with difficulty, the General arose, at the conclusion of a light repast, and proposed the following health: "With a heart full of love and gratitude I must now take my leave of you. I most devoutly wish that your latter days may be as prosperous and happy as your former ones have been glorious and honorable." The toast was drunk in silence, and Washington added: "I cannot come to each of you to take my leave, but shall be obliged to you if each will come and take me by the hand."]

[Sidenote: Mutiny of a part of the Pennsylvania line.]

While these excellent dispositions were manifested by the veterans serving under the immediate eye of their patriot chief, the government was exposed to insult and outrage from the mutinous spirit of a small party of new levies. About eighty men of this description belonging to Pennsylvania, were stationed at Lancaster. Revolting against the authority of their officers, they marched in a body to Philadelphia, with the avowed purpose of obtaining redress of their grievances from the executive council of the state. The march of these insolent mutineers was not obstructed; and, after arriving in Philadelphia, their numbers were augmented by the junction of some troops quartered in the barracks. They then marched in military parade, with fixed bayonets, to the state-house, in which congress and the executive council of the state were sitting; and, after placing sentinels at the doors, sent in a written message, threatening the executive of the state with the vengeance of an enraged soldiery, if their demands were not gratified in twenty minutes. Although these threats were not directed particularly against congress, the government of the union was grossly insulted, and those who administered it were blockaded for several hours by licentious soldiers. After remaining in this situation about three hours, the members separated, having agreed to reassemble at Princeton.

On receiving information of this outrage, the Commander-in-chief detached fifteen hundred men under the command of Major General Howe, to suppress the mutiny. His indignation at this insult to the civil authority, and his mortification at this misconduct of any portion of the American troops, were strongly marked in his letter to the president of congress.

"While," said he, "I suffer the most poignant distress in observing that a handful of men, contemptible in numbers, and equally so in point of service, (if the veteran troops from the southward have not been seduced by their example,) and who are not worthy to be called soldiers, should disgrace themselves and their country as the Pennsylvania mutineers have done by insulting the sovereign authority of the United States, and that of their own, I feel an inexpressible satisfaction, that even this behaviour can not stain the name of the American soldiery. It can not be imputed to, or reflect dishonour on, the army at large; but, on the contrary, it will, by the striking contrast it exhibits, hold up to public view the other troops in the most advantageous point of light. Upon taking all the circumstances into consideration, I can not sufficiently express my surprise and indignation at the arrogance, the folly, and the wickedness of the mutineers; nor can I sufficiently admire the fidelity, the bravery, and patriotism, which must forever signalize the unsullied character of the other corps of our army. For when we consider that these Pennsylvania levies, who have now mutinied, are recruits, and soldiers of a day, who have not borne the heat and burden of the war, and who can have in reality very few hardships to complain of; and when we at the same time recollect that those soldiers, who have lately been furloughed from this army, are the veterans who have patiently endured hunger, nakedness, and cold; who have suffered and bled without a murmur, and who, with perfect good order, have retired to their homes, without a settlement of their accounts, or a farthing of money in their pockets; we shall be as much astonished at the virtues of the latter, as we are struck with horror and detestation at the proceedings of the former, and every candid mind, without indulging ill-grounded prejudices, will undoubtedly make the proper discrimination."

Before the detachment from the army could reach Philadelphia, the disturbances were, in a great degree, quieted without bloodshed; but General Howe was ordered by congress to continue his march into Pennsylvania, "in order that immediate measures might be taken to confine and bring to trial all such persons belonging to the army as have been principally active in the late mutiny; to disarm the remainder; and to examine fully into all the circumstances relating thereto."

The interval between the treaty with Great Britain and his retiring into private life, was devoted by the Commander-in-chief to objects of permanent utility.

The independence of his country being established, he looked forward with anxiety to its future destinies. These might greatly depend on the systems to be adopted on the return of peace, and to those systems much of his attention was directed. The future peace establishment of the United States was one of the many interesting subjects which claimed the consideration of congress. As the experience of General Washington would certainly enable him to suggest many useful ideas on this important point, his opinions respecting it were requested by the committee to whom it was referred. His letter on this occasion, which was deposited, it is presumed, in the archives of state, will long deserve the attention of those to whom the interests of the United States may be confided. His strongest hopes of securing the future tranquillity, dignity and respectability of his country were placed on a well regulated and well disciplined militia, and his sentiments on this subject are entitled to the more regard, as a long course of severe experience had enabled him to mark the total incompetency of the existing system to the great purposes of national defence.

[Sidenote: Evacuation of New York.]

At length the British troops evacuated New York, and a detachment from the American army took possession of that town.

Guards being posted for the security of the citizens, General Washington, accompanied by Governor Clinton, and attended by many civil and military officers, and a large number of respectable inhabitants on horseback, made his public entry into the city; where he was received with every mark of respect and attention. His military course was now on the point of terminating; and he was about to bid adieu to his comrades in arms. This affecting interview took place on the 4th of December. At noon, the principal officers of the army assembled at Frances' tavern, soon after which, their beloved commander entered the room. His emotions were too strong to be concealed. Filling a glass, he turned to them and said, "With a heart full of love and gratitude, I now take leave of you; I most devoutly wish that your latter days may be as prosperous and happy, as your former ones have been glorious and honourable." Having drunk, he added, "I can not come to each of you to take my leave, but shall be obliged if each of you will come and take me by the hand." General Knox, being nearest, turned to him. Washington, incapable of utterance, grasped his hand, and embraced him. In the same affectionate manner he took leave of each succeeding officer. The tear of manly sensibility was in every eye; and not a word was articulated to interrupt the dignified silence, and the tenderness of the scene. Leaving the room, he passed through the corps of light infantry, and walked to White Hall, where a barge waited to convey him to Powles Hook. The whole company followed in mute and solemn procession, with dejected countenances, testifying feelings of delicious melancholy, which no language can describe. Having entered the barge, he turned to the company, and, waving his hat, bid them a silent adieu. They paid him the same affectionate compliment; and, after the barge had left them, returned in the same solemn manner to the place where they had assembled.[16]

[Footnote 16: Gordon.]

Congress was then in session at Annapolis, in Maryland, to which place General Washington repaired, for the purpose of resigning into their hands the authority with which they had invested him.[17] He arrived on the 19th of December. The next day he informed that body of his intention to ask leave to resign the commission he had the honour of holding in their service; and requested to know whether it would be their pleasure that he should offer his resignation in writing, or at an audience.

[Footnote 17: See note, No. II. at the end of the volume.]

To give the more dignity to the act, they determined that it should be offered at a public audience on the following Tuesday, at twelve.

[Sidenote: General Washington resigns his commission and retires to Mount Vernon.]

When the hour arrived for performing a ceremony so well calculated to recall the various interesting scenes which had passed since the commission now to be returned was granted, the gallery was crowded with spectators, and several persons of distinction were admitted on the floor of congress. The members remained seated and covered. The spectators were standing, and uncovered. The general was introduced by the secretary, and conducted to a chair. After a short pause, the president[18] informed him that "The United States in congress assembled were prepared to receive his communications." With native dignity improved by the solemnity of the occasion, the general rose and delivered the following address.

[Footnote 18: General Mifflin.]

"Mr. President,

"The great events on which my resignation depended, having at length taken place, I have now the honour of offering my sincere congratulations to congress, and of presenting myself before them, to surrender into their hands the trust committed to me, and to claim the indulgence of retiring from the service of my country.

"Happy in the confirmation of our independence and sovereignty, and pleased with the opportunity afforded the United States of becoming a respectable nation, I resign with satisfaction the appointment I accepted with diffidence; a diffidence in my abilities to accomplish so arduous a task, which however was superseded by a confidence in the rectitude of our cause, the support of the supreme power of the union, and the patronage of heaven.

"The successful termination of the war has verified the most sanguine expectations; and my gratitude for the interposition of Providence, and the assistance I have received from my countrymen, increases with every review of the momentous contest.

"While I repeat my obligations to the army in general, I should do injustice to my own feelings not to acknowledge in this place, the peculiar services and distinguished merits of the gentlemen who have been attached to my person during the war. It was impossible the choice of confidential officers to compose my family should have been more fortunate. Permit me, sir, to recommend in particular, those who have continued in the service to the present moment, as worthy of the favourable notice and patronage of congress.

"I consider it as an indispensable duty to close this last act of my official life, by commending the interests of our dearest country to the protection of Almighty God, and those who have the superintendence of them to his holy keeping.

"Having now finished the work assigned me, I retire from the great theatre of action, and, bidding an affectionate farewell to this august body, under whose orders I have so long acted, I here offer my commission, and take my leave of all the employments of public life."

After advancing to the chair and delivering his commission to the president, he returned to his place, and received standing the following answer of congress, which was delivered by the president.

"Sir,

"The United States in congress assembled, receive with emotions too affecting for utterance, the solemn resignation of the authorities under which you have led their troops with success through a perilous and a doubtful war. Called upon by your country to defend its invaded rights, you accepted the sacred charge, before it had formed alliances, and whilst it was without funds or a government to support you. You have conducted the great military contest with wisdom and fortitude, invariably regarding the rights of the civil power, through all disasters and changes. You have by the love and confidence of your fellow citizens, enabled them to display their martial genius, and transmit their fame to posterity. You have persevered until these United States, aided by a magnanimous king and nation, have been enabled under a just Providence, to close the war in freedom, safety, and independence; on which happy event we sincerely join you in congratulations.

"Having defended the standard of liberty in this new world, having taught a lesson useful to those who inflict and to those who feel oppression, you retire from the great theatre of action with the blessings of your fellow citizens. But the glory of your virtues will not terminate with your military command; it will continue to animate remotest ages.

"We feel with you our obligations to the army in general, and will particularly charge ourselves with the interests of those confidential officers who have attended your person to this affecting moment.

"We join you in commending the interests of our dearest country to the protection of Almighty God, beseeching him to dispose the hearts and minds of its citizens, to improve the opportunity afforded them of becoming a happy and respectable nation. And for you, we address to him our earnest prayers that a life so beloved, may be fostered with all his care; that your days may be as happy as they have been illustrious; and that he will finally give you that reward which this world can not give."

This scene being closed, a scene rendered peculiarly interesting by the personages who appeared in it, by the great events it recalled to the memory, and by the singularity of the circumstances under which it was displayed, the American chief withdrew from the hall of congress, leaving the silent and admiring spectators deeply impressed with those sentiments which its solemnity and dignity were calculated to inspire.

Divested of his military character, General Washington retired to Mount Vernon, followed by the enthusiastic love, esteem, and admiration of his countrymen. Relieved from the agitations of a doubtful contest, and from the toils of an exalted station, he returned with increased delight to the duties and the enjoyments of a private citizen. He indulged the hope that, in the shade of retirement, under the protection of a free government, and the benignant influence of mild and equal laws, he might taste that felicity which is the reward of a mind at peace with itself, and conscious of its own purity.



CHAPTER III.

General Washington devotes his time to rural pursuits.... to the duties of friendship.... and to institutions of public utility.... Resolves of Congress and of the Legislature of Virginia for erecting statues to his honour.... Recommends improvement in inland navigation.... Declines accepting a donation made to him by his native state.... The society of the Cincinnati.... He is elected President.... The causes which led to a change of the government of the United States.... Circular letter of General Washington to the governors of the several states.

{1783 to 1787}

[Sidenote: After retiring to private life, General Washington devotes his time to rural pursuits, to the duties of friendship, and to institutions of public utility.]

When an individual, long in possession of great power, and almost unlimited influence, retires from office with alacrity, and resumes the character of a private citizen with pleasure, the mind is gratified in contemplating the example of virtuous moderation, and dwells upon it with approving satisfaction. We look at man in his most estimable character; and this view of him exalts our opinion of human nature. Such was the example exhibited by General Washington to his country and to the world. His deportment, and his language, equally attest that he returned with these feelings to the employments of private life. In a letter to Governor Clinton, written only three days after his arrival at Mount Vernon, he says, "The scene is at length closed. I feel myself eased of a load of public care, and hope to spend the remainder of my days in cultivating the affections of good men, and in the practice of the domestic virtues." "At length, my dear marquis," said he to his noble and highly valued friend, Lafayette, "I have become a private citizen on the banks of the Potomac; and under the shadow of my own vine, and my own fig tree, free from the bustle of a camp, and the busy scenes of public life, I am solacing myself with those tranquil enjoyments, of which the soldier who is ever in pursuit of fame—the statesman whose watchful days and sleepless nights are spent in devising schemes to promote the welfare of his own—perhaps the ruin of other countries, as if this globe was insufficient for us all—and the courtier who is always watching the countenance of his prince in the hope of catching a gracious smile—can have very little conception. I have not only retired from all public employments, but am retiring within myself, and shall be able to view the solitary walk, and tread the paths of private life, with heartfelt satisfaction. Envious of none, I am determined to be pleased with all; and this, my dear friend, being the order of my march, I will move gently down the stream of life, until I sleep with my fathers."

But a mind accustomed to labour for a nation's welfare, does not immediately divest itself of ancient habits. That custom of thinking on public affairs, and that solicitude respecting them, which belong to the patriot in office, follow him into his retreat. In a letter to General Knox, written soon after his resignation, General Washington thus expressed the feelings attendant upon this sudden transition from public to private pursuits. "I am just beginning to experience the ease and freedom from public cares, which, however desirable, takes some time to realize; for strange as it may seem, it is nevertheless true, that it was not until lately, I could get the better of my usual custom of ruminating, as soon as I awoke 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, or had any thing to do with public transactions. I feel now, however, as I conceive a wearied traveller must do, who, after treading many a painful step with a heavy burden on his shoulders, is eased of the latter, having reached the haven to which all the former were directed; and from his house-top is looking back, and tracing with an eager eye, the meanders by which he escaped the quick-sands and mires which lay in his way, and into which none but the all powerful Guide and Dispenser of human events could have prevented his falling."

For several months after arriving at Mount Vernon, almost every day brought him the addresses of an affectionate and grateful people. The glow of expression in which the high sense universally entertained of his services was conveyed, manifested the warmth of feeling which animated the American bosom. This unexampled tribute of voluntary applause, paid by a whole people, to an individual no longer in power, made no impression on the unassuming modesty of his character and deportment. The same firmness of mind, the same steady and well tempered judgment, which had guided him through the most perilous seasons of the war, still regulated his conduct; and the enthusiastic applauses of an admiring nation served only to cherish sentiments of gratitude, and to give greater activity to the desire still further to contribute to the general prosperity.

[Sidenote: Resolves of Congress and of the legislature of Virginia for erecting statues in honour of him.]

It was not by addresses alone that his country manifested its attachment to him. Soon after peace was proclaimed, congress unanimously passed a resolution for the erection of an equestrian statue of their general,[19] at the place which should be established for the residence of the government.

[Footnote 19: "Resolved that the statue be of bronze: the general to be represented in a Roman dress, holding a truncheon in his right hand, and his head encircled with a laurel wreath. The statue to be supported by a marble pedestal on which are to be represented, in basso relievo, the following principal events of the war, in which General Washington commanded in person: the evacuation of Boston:—the capture of the Hessians at Trenton:—the battle of Princeton:—the action of Monmouth:—and the surrender of York.—On the upper part of the front of the pedestal to be engraved as follows: the United States in congress assembled, ordered this statue to be erected in the year of our Lord 1783, in honour of George Washington, the illustrious Commander-in-chief of the armies of the United States of America, during the war which vindicated and secured their liberty, sovereignty and independence."]

The legislature of Virginia too, at its first session after his resignation, passed the following resolution.[20]

[Footnote 20: This resolution has been carried into execution. The statue it ordained now stands in the capitol of Virginia, in a spacious area in the centre of the building. A bust of the Marquis de Lafayette, which was also directed by the legislature, is placed in a niche of the wall in the same part of the building.]

"Resolved, that the executive be requested to take measures for procuring a statue of General Washington, to be of the finest marble and best workmanship, with the following inscription on its pedestal:

"The general assembly of the commonwealth of Virginia have caused this statue to be erected as a monument of affection and gratitude to GEORGE WASHINGTON, who, uniting to the endowments of the HERO, the virtues of the PATRIOT, and exerting both in establishing the liberties of his country, has rendered his name dear to his fellow citizens, and given the world an immortal example of true glory."

Although the toils of General Washington were no longer exhibited to the public eye, his time continued to be usefully employed. The judicious cultivation of the earth is justly placed among the most valuable sources of national prosperity, and nothing could be more wretched than the general state of agriculture in America. To its melioration by examples which might be followed, and by the introduction of systems adapted to the soil, the climate, and to the situation of the people, the energies of his active and intelligent mind were now in a great degree directed. No improvement of the implements to be used on a farm, no valuable experiments in husbandry, escaped his attention. His inquiries, which were equally minute and comprehensive, extended beyond the limits of his own country; and he entered into a correspondence on this interesting subject with those foreigners who had been most distinguished for their additions to the stock of agricultural science.

[Illustration: The Old Senate Chamber at Annapolis, Maryland, Where Washington Resigned His Commission

The fate of the Republic was in the hands of Washington when he resigned his commission to Congress, then sitting at Annapolis, December 23, 1783, and retired to private life. Had he so desired, it is probable that he could have founded a monarchy, sustained by his army. Instead, as he wrote to Lafayette, shortly after his return to Mount Vernon: "I have not only retired from all public employments but am retiring within myself, and shall be able to view the solitary walk, and tread the paths of private life, with heartfelt satisfaction. Envious of none, I am determined to be pleased with all; and this, my dear friend, being the order of my march, I will move gently down the stream of life, until I sleep with my fathers."]

Mingled with this favourite pursuit, were the multiplied avocations resulting from the high office he had lately filled. He was engaged in an extensive correspondence with the friends most dear to his heart—the foreign and American officers who had served under him during the late war—and with almost every conspicuous political personage of his own, and with many of other countries. Literary men also were desirous of obtaining his approbation of their works, and his attention was solicited to every production of American genius. His countrymen who were about to travel, were anxious to receive from the first citizen of this rising republic, some testimonial of their worth; and all those strangers of distinction who visited this newly created empire, were ambitious of being presented to its founder. Among those who were drawn across the Atlantic by curiosity, and perhaps by a desire to observe the progress of the popular governments which were instituted in this new world, was Mrs. Macauley Graham. By the principles contained in her History of the Stuarts, this lady had acquired much reputation in republican America, and by all was received with marked attention. For the sole purpose of paying her respects to a person whose fame had spread over Europe, she paid a visit to Mount Vernon; and, if her letters may be credited, the exalted opinion she had formed of its proprietor, was "not diminished by a personal acquaintance with him."

To these occupations, which were calculated to gratify an intelligent mind, or which derived a value from the indulgence they afforded to the feelings of the heart, others were unavoidably added, in the composition of which, no palatable ingredient was intermixed. Of these unwelcome intrusions upon his time, General Washington thus complained to an intimate military friend. "It is not, my dear sir, the letters of my friends which give me trouble, or add aught to my perplexity. I receive them with pleasure, and pay as much attention to them as my avocations will permit. It is references to old matters with which I have nothing to do—applications which oftentimes can not be complied with—inquiries, to satisfy which would employ the pen of a historian—letters of compliment, as unmeaning perhaps as they are troublesome, but which must be attended to; and the common-place business—which employ my pen and my time often disagreeably. Indeed, these, with company, deprive me of exercise; and, unless I can obtain relief, must be productive of disagreeable consequences. Already I begin to feel their effects. Heavy and painful oppressions of the head, and other disagreeable sensations often trouble me. I am determined therefore to employ some person who shall ease me of the drudgery of this business. At any rate, if the whole of it is thereby suspended, I am determined to use exercise. My private affairs also require infinitely more attention than I have given, or can give them, under present circumstances. They can no longer be neglected without involving my ruin."

It was some time after the date of this letter before he could introduce into his family a young gentleman, whose education and manners enabled him to fill the station of a private secretary and of a friend.

This multiplicity of private avocations could not entirely withdraw the mind of Washington from objects tending to promote and secure the public happiness. His resolution never again to appear in the busy scenes of political life, though believed by himself, and by his bosom friends, to be unalterable, could not render him indifferent to those measures on which the prosperity of his country essentially depended.

To a person looking beyond the present moment, it was only necessary to glance over the map of the United States, to be impressed with the importance of connecting the western with the eastern territory, by facilitating the means of intercourse between them. To this subject, the attention of General Washington had been directed in the early part of his life. While the American states were yet British colonies, he had obtained the passage of a bill for opening the Potomac so as to render it navigable from tide water to Wills creek.[21] The river James had also been comprehended in this plan; and he had triumphed so far over the opposition produced by local interests and prejudices, that the business was in a train which promised success, when the revolutionary war diverted the attention of its patrons, and of all America, from internal improvements to the still greater objects of liberty and independence. As that war approached its termination, subjects which for a time had yielded their pretensions to consideration, reclaimed that place to which their real magnitude entitled them; and internal navigation again attracted the attention of the wise and thinking part of society. Accustomed to contemplate America as his country, and to consider with solicitude the interests of the whole, Washington now took a more enlarged view of the advantages to be derived from opening both the eastern and the western waters; and for this, as well as for other purposes, after peace had been proclaimed, he traversed the western parts of New England and New York. "I have lately," said he in a letter to the Marquis of Chastellux, a nobleman in pursuit of literary as well as of military fame, "made a tour through the lakes George and Champlain as far as Crown Point;—then returning to Schenectady, I proceeded up the Mohawk river to fort Schuyler, crossed over to Wood creek which empties into the Oneida lake, and affords the water communication with Ontario. I then traversed the country to the head of the eastern branch of the Susquehanna, and viewed the lake Otswego, and the portage between that lake and the Mohawk river at Cotnajohario. Prompted by these actual observations, I could not help taking a more contemplative and extensive view of the vast inland navigation of these United States, and could not but be struck with the immense diffusion and importance of it; and with the goodness of that Providence which has dealt his favours to us with so profuse a hand. Would to God we may have wisdom enough to improve them. I shall not rest contented until I have explored the western country, and traversed those lines (or great part of them) which have given bounds to a new empire."

[Footnote 21: About one hundred and fifty miles.]

Scarcely had he answered those spontaneous offerings of the heart, which flowed in upon him from every part of a grateful nation, when his views were once more seriously turned to this truly interesting subject. Its magnitude was also impressed on others; and the value of obtaining the aid which his influence and active interference would afford to any exertions for giving this direction to the public mind, and for securing the happy execution of the plan which might be devised, was perceived by all those who attached to the great work its real importance. A gentleman[22] who had taken an expanded view of it, concluded a letter to General Washington, containing a detailed statement of his ideas on the subject in these terms:

[Footnote 22: Mr. Jefferson.]

"But a most powerful objection always arises to propositions of this kind. It is, that public undertakings are carelessly managed, and much money spent to little purpose. To obviate this objection is the purpose of my giving you the trouble of this discussion. You have retired from public life. You have weighed this determination, and it would be impertinence in me to touch it. But would the superintendence of this work break in too much on the sweets of retirement and repose? If they would, I stop here. Your future time and wishes are sacred in my eye. If it would be only a dignified amusement to you, what a monument of your retirement would it be! It is one which would follow that of your public life, and bespeak it the work of the same great hand. I am confident, that would you either alone, or jointly with any persons you think proper, be willing to direct this business, it would remove the only objection, the weight of which I apprehend."

[Sidenote: Recommends the opening and improving the inland navigation of the great rivers in Virginia.]

In the autumn of 1784, General Washington made a tour as far west as Pittsburgh; after returning from which, his first moments of leisure were devoted to the task of engaging his countrymen in a work which appeared to him to merit still more attention from its political, than from its commercial influence on the union. In a long and interesting letter to Mr. Harrison, then governor of Virginia, he detailed the advantages which might be derived from opening the great rivers, the Potomac and the James, as high as should be practicable. After stating with his accustomed exactness the distances, and the difficulties to be surmounted in bringing the trade of the west to different points on the Atlantic, he expressed unequivocally the opinion, that the rivers of Virginia afforded a more convenient, and a more direct course than could be found elsewhere, for that rich and increasing commerce. This was strongly urged as a motive for immediately commencing the work. But the rivers of the Atlantic constituted only a part of the great plan he contemplated. He suggested the appointment of commissioners of integrity and abilities, exempt from the suspicion of prejudice, whose duty it should be, after an accurate examination of the James and the Potomac, to search out the nearest and best portages between those waters and the streams capable of improvement, which run into the Ohio. Those streams were to be accurately surveyed, the impediments to their navigation ascertained, and their relative advantages examined. The navigable waters west of the Ohio, towards the great lakes, were also to be traced to their sources, and those which empty into the lakes to be followed to their mouths. "These things being done, and an accurate map of the whole presented to the public, he was persuaded that reason would dictate what was right and proper." For the execution of this latter part of his plan he had also much reliance on congress; and in addition to the general advantages to be drawn from the measure, he laboured, in his letters to the members of that body, to establish the opinion, that the surveys he recommended would add to the revenue, by enhancing the value of the lands offered for sale. "Nature," he said, "had made such an ample display of her bounties in those regions, that the more the country was explored, the more it would rise in estimation."