WASHINGTON RETURNS TO PEACE
Nearly two years elapsed before the real settlement of the war. The
English held New York City, Charleston, and Savannah, the strong
garrisons. It seemed likely that they would have been glad to arrange
the terms of peace sooner, but there was much inner turmoil at home.
The men who, through thick and thin, had abetted the King in one plan
after another to fight to the last ditch had nothing more to propose.
Lord North, when he heard of the surrender of Yorktown, almost
shrieked, "My God! It is all over; it is all over!" and was plunged in
gloom. A new ministry had to be formed. Lord North had been succeeded
by Rockingham, who died in July, 1782, and was followed by Shelburne,
supposed to be rather liberal, but to share King George's desire to
keep down the Whigs. Negotiations over the terms of peace were carried
on with varying fortune for more than a year. John Adams, John Jay,
and Benjamin Franklin were the American Peace Commissioners. The
preliminaries between Great Britain and America were signed on
December 30, 1782, and with France and Spain nearly two months
later. The Dutch held out still longer into 1783. Washington, at his
Headquarters in Newburgh, New York, had been awaiting the news of
peace, not lazily, but planning for a new campaign and meditating upon
the various projects which might be undertaken. To him the news of the
actual signing of the treaty came at the end of March. He replied at
once to Theodorick Bland; a letter which gave his general views
in regard to the needs and rights of the army before it should be
disbanded:
It is now the bounden duty of every one to make the blessings
thereof as diffusive as possible. Nothing would so effectually
bring this to pass as the removal of those local prejudices which
intrude upon and embarrass that great line of policy which alone
can make us a free, happy and powerful People. Unless our Union
can be fixed upon such a basis as to accomplish these, certain
I am we have toiled, bled and spent our treasure to very little
purpose.
We have now a National character to establish, and it is of the
utmost importance to stamp favorable impressions upon it; let
justice be then one of its characteristics, and gratitude another.
Public creditors of every denomination will be comprehended in the
first; the Army in a particular manner will have a claim to the
latter; to say that no distinction can be made between the claims
of public creditors is to declare that there is no difference in
circumstances; or that the services of all men are equally alike.
This Army is of near eight years' standing, six of which they have
spent in the Field without any other shelter from the inclemency
of the seasons than Tents, or such Houses as they could build for
themselves without expense to the public. They have encountered
hunger, cold and nakedness. They have fought many Battles and bled
freely. They have lived without pay and in consequence of it,
officers as well as men have subsisted upon their Rations.
They have often, very often, been reduced to the necessity of
eating Salt Porke, or Beef not for a day, or a week only but
months together without Vegetables or money to buy them; or a
cloth to wipe on.
Many of them do better, and to dress as Officers have contracted
heavy debts or spent their patrimonies. The first see the Doors of
gaols open to receive them, whilst those of the latter are shut
against them. Is there no discrimination then--no extra exertion
to be made in favor of men in these peculiar circumstances, in the
event of their military dissolution? Or, if no worse cometh of it,
are they to be turned adrift soured and discontented, complaining
of the ingratitude of their Country, and under the influence of
these passions to become fit subjects for unfavorable impressions,
and unhappy dissentions? For permit me to add, tho every man in
the Army feels his distress--it is not every one that will reason
to the cause of it.
I would not from the observations here made, be understood to mean
that Congress should (because I know they cannot, nor does
the army expect it) pay the full arrearages due to them till
Continental or State funds are established for the purpose. They
would, from what I can learn, go home contented--nay--_thankful_
to receive what I have mentioned in a more public letter of this
date, and in the manner there expressed. And surely this may be
effected with proper exertions. Or what possibility was there of
keeping the army together, if the war had continued, when the
victualls, clothing, and other expenses of it were to have been
added? Another thing, Sir, (as I mean to be frank and free in my
communications on this subject,) I will not conceal from you--it
is the dissimilarity in the payments to men in Civil and Military
life. The first receive everything--the others get nothing but
bare subsistence--they ask what this is owing to? and reasons have
been assigned, which, say they, amount to this--that men in Civil
life have stronger passions and better pretensions to indulge
them, or less virtue and regard for their Country than
us,--otherwise, as we are all contending for the same prize and
equally interested in the attainment of it, why do we not bear the
burthen equally?[1]
[Footnote 1: Ford, X, 203.]
The army was indeed the incubus of the Americans. They could not fight
the war without it, but they had never succeeded in mastering the
difficulties of maintaining and strengthening it. The system of a
standing army was of course not to be thought of, and the uncertain
recruits who took its place were mostly undisciplined and unreliable.
When the exigencies became pressing, a new method was resorted to, and
then the usual erosion of life in the field, the losses by casualties
and sickness, caused the numbers to dwindle. Long ago the paymaster
had ceased to pretend to pay off the men regularly so that there was
now a large amount of back pay due them. Largely through Washington's
patriotic exhortations had they kept fighting to the end; and, with
peace upon them, they did not dare to disband because they feared
that, if they left before they were paid, they would never be paid.
Washington felt that, if thousands of discontented and even angry
soldiers were allowed to go back to their homes without the means of
taking up any work or business, great harm would be done. The love of
country, which he believed to be most important to inculcate, would
not only be checked but perverted. They already had too many reasons
to feel aggrieved. Why should they, the men who risked their lives
in battle and actually had starved or frozen in winter quarters, go
unpaid, whereas every civilian who had a post under the Government
lived at least safely and healthily and was paid with fair
promptitude? They felt now that their best hope for justice lay in
General Washington's interest in their behalf; and that interest of
his seems now one of the noblest and wisest and most patriotic of his
expressions.
Washington had need to be prepared for any emergency. Thus a body
of officers deliberated not only a mutiny of the army, but a _coup
d'état_, in which they planned to overthrow the flimsy Federation of
the thirteen States and to set up a monarchy. They wrote to Washington
announcing their intention and their belief that he would make an
ideal monarch. He was amazed and chagrined. He replied in part as
follows, to the Colonel who had written him:
I am much at a loss to conceive what part of my conduct could have
given encouragement to an address, which to me seems big with
the greatest mischiefs, that can befall my country. If I am not
deceived in the knowledge of myself, you could not have found a
person to whom your schemes are more disagreeable. I must add,
that no man possesses a more sincere wish to see ample justice
done to the army than I do; and, as far as my powers and
influence, in a constitutional way, extend, they shall be employed
to the extent of my abilities to effect it, should there be any
occasion. Let me conjure you, then, if you have any regard for
your country, concern for yourself or posterity, or respect for
me, to banish these thoughts from your mind and never communicate,
as from yourself to any one else, a sentiment of the like
nature.[1]
[Footnote 1: Sparks, 355.]
The turmoil of the army continued throughout the year and into the
next. The so-called "Newburgh Address" set forth the quarrel of the
soldiers and Washington's discreet reply. On April 19, 1783, the
eighth anniversary of the first fighting at Concord, a proclamation
was issued to the American army announcing the official end of all
hostilities. In June Washington issued a circular letter to the
Governors of the States, bidding them farewell and urging them to
guard their precious country. Many of the American troops were allowed
to go home on furlough. In company with Governor Clinton he went up
the Hudson to Ticonderoga and then westward to Fort Schuyler. Being
invited by Congress, which was then sitting at Annapolis, he journeyed
thither. Before he left New York City arrangements were made for a
formal farewell to his comrades in arms. I quote the description of it
from Chief Justice Marshall's "Life of Washington":
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 honorable." Having drunk, he added, "I
cannot come to each of you to take my leave, but shall be obliged
to you, if each of you will come and take me by the hand." General
Knox, being nearest, turned to him. Incapable of utterance,
Washington grasped his hand, and embraced him. In the same
affectionate manner, he took leave of each succeeding officer. In
every eye was the tear of dignified sensibility; and not a
word was articulated to interrupt the majestic 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 (Paulus 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, bade 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.[1]
[Footnote 1: Marshall, IV, 561.]
Marshall's description, simple but not commonplace, reminds one of
Ville-Hardouin's pictures, so terse, so rich in color, of the Barons
of France in the Fifth Crusade. The account once read, you can never
forget that majestic, silent figure of Washington being rowed across
to Paulus Hook with no sound but the dignified rhythm of the oars. Not
a cheer, not a word!
His reception by Congress took place on Tuesday, the twenty-third
of December, at twelve o'clock. Again I borrow from Chief Justice
Marshall's account:
When the hour arrived for performing a ceremony so well calculated
to recall to the mind the various interesting scenes which had
passed since the commission now to be returned was granted, the
gallery was crowded with spectators, and many respectable persons,
among whom were the legislative and executive characters of the
state, several general officers, and the consul general of France,
were admitted on the floor of Congress.
The representatives of the sovereignty of the union remained
seated and covered. The spectators were standing and uncovered.
The General was introduced by the secretary and conducted to a
chair. After a decent interval, silence was commanded, and a short
pause ensued. The President (General Mifflin) then informed him
that "the United States in Congress assembled were prepared to
receive his communications." With a native dignity improved by
the solemnity of the occasion, the General rose and delivered the
following address:
"_Mr. President_:
"The great events on which my resignation depended, having at
length taken place, I have now the honor of offering my sincere
congratulations to Congress, and on 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 favorable 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
answer of Congress which was delivered by the President. In the
course of his remarks, General Mifflin said:
"Having defended the standard of liberty in this new world: having
taught a new 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."[1]
[Footnote 1: Marshall, IV, 563.]
The meeting then broke up, and Washington departed. He went that same
afternoon to Virginia and reached Mount Vernon in the evening. We can
imagine with what satisfaction and gratitude he, to whom home was the
dearest place in the world, returned to the home he had seen only once
by chance since the beginning of the Revolution, eight years before.
Probably few of those who had risen to the highest station in their
country said, and felt more honestly, that they were grateful at being
allowed by Fate to retire from office, than did Washington. To be
relieved of responsibility, free from the hourly spur, day and night,
of planning and carrying out, of trying to find food for starving
soldiers, of leading forlorn hopes against the truculent enemy, must
have seemed to the weary and war-worn General like a call from the
Hesperides. Men of his iron nature, and of his capacity for work and
joy in it, do not, of course, really delight in idleness. They may
think that they crave idleness, but in reality they crave the power of
going on.
It took comparatively little effort for Washington to fall into
his old way of life at Mount Vernon, although there, too, much was
changed. Old buildings had fallen out of repair. There were new
experiments to be tried, and the general purpose to be carried out of
making Mount Vernon a model place in that part of the country. Whether
he would or not, he was sought for almost daily by persons who came
from all parts of the United States, and from overseas. Hospitality
being not merely a duty, but a passion with him, he gladly received
the strangers and learned much from them. From their accounts of their
interviews we see that, although he was really the most natural of
men, some of them treated him as if he were some strange creature--a
holy white elephant of Siam, or the Grand Lama of Tibet. Age had
brought its own deductions and reservations. It does not appear that
parties rode to hounds after the fox any more at Mount Vernon. And
then there were the irreparable gaps that could not be filled. At
Belvoir, where his neighbors the Fairfaxes, friends of a lifetime,
used to live, they lived no more. One of them, more than ninety years
old, had turned his face to the wall on hearing of the surrender at
Yorktown. Another had gone back to England to live out his life there,
true to his Tory convictions.
Washington had sincerely believed, no doubt, that he was to spend the
rest of his life in dignified leisure, and especially that he would
mix no more in political or public worries; but he soon found that he
had deceived himself. The army, until it officially disbanded at the
end of 1783, caused him constant anxiety interspersed with fits of
indignation over the indifference and inertia of the Congress, which
showed no intention of being just to the soldiers. The reason for its
attitude seems hard to state positively. May it be that the Congress,
jealous since the war began of being ruled by the man on horseback,
feared at its close to grant Washington's demands for it lest they
should bring about the very thing they had feared and avoided--the
creation of a military dictatorship under Washington? When Vergennes
proposed to entrust to Washington a new subsidy from France, the
Congress had taken umbrage and regarded such a proposal as an insult
to the American Government. Should they admit that the Government
itself was not sufficiently sound and trustworthy, and that,
therefore, a private individual, even though he had been a leader of
the Revolution, must be called into service?
From among persons pestered by this obsession, it was not surprising
that the idea should spring up that Washington was at heart a believer
in monarchy and that he might, when the opportunity favored, allow
himself to be proclaimed king. Several years later he wrote to his
trusted friend, John Jay:
I am told that even respectable characters speak of a monarchical
form of government without horror. From thinking proceeds
speaking; thence to acting is often but a single step. But how
irrevocable and tremendous! What a triumph for our enemies to
verify their predictions! What a triumph for the advocates of
despotism to find, that we are incapable of governing ourselves,
and that systems founded on the basis of equal liberty are merely
ideal and fallacious! Would to God, that wise measures may be
taken in time to avert the consequences we have but too much
reason to apprehend.[1]
[Footnote 1: Hapgood, 285.]
In the renewal of his life at Mount Vernon, Washington gave almost
as much attention to the cultivation of friendship as to that of his
estate. He pursued with great zest the career of planter-farmer. "I
think," he wrote a friend, "with you, that the life of a husbandman
of all others is the most delectable. It is honorable, it is amusing,
and, with judicious management, it is profitable. To see plants rise
from the earth and flourish by the superior skill and bounty of the
laborer fills a contemplative mind with ideas which are more easy to
be conceived than expressed."[1]
[Footnote 1: Hapgood, 288.]
The cultivation of his friendships he carried on by letters and by
entertaining his friends as often as he could at Mount Vernon. To
Benjamin Harrison he wrote: "My friendship is not in the least
lessened by the difference, which has taken place in our political
sentiments, nor is my regard for you diminished by the part you have
acted."[1]
[Footnote 1: _Ibid_., 289.]
How constantly the flock of guests frequented Mount Vernon we can
infer from this entry in his diary for June 30, 1785: "Dined with only
Mrs. Washington which, I believe, is the first instance of it since my
retirement from public life." To his young friend Lafayette he wrote
without reserve in a vein of deep affection:
At length, my dear Marquis, I am 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 hopes of catching a gracious smile, can have
very little conception. I have not only retired from all public
employments, but I am retiring within myself, and shall be able to
view the solitary walk, and tread the paths of private life, with
heartful 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.[1]
[Footnote 1: Hapgood, 287.]
In September, 1784, he made a journey on horseback, with a pack-train
to carry his tents and food, into the Northwestern country, which had
especially interested him since the early days when Fort Duquesne was
the goal of his wandering. He observed very closely and his mind was
filled with large imaginings of what the future would see in the
development of the Northwest. Since his youth he had never lost
the conviction that an empire would spring up there; only make the
waterways easy and safe and he felt sure that a very large commerce
would result and with it the extension of civilization. In a memorial
to the legislature he urged that Virginia was the best placed
geographically of all the States to undertake the work of establishing
connection with the States of the Northwest, and he suggested various
details which, when acted upon later, proved to be, as Sparks
remarked, "the first suggestion of the great system of internal
improvements which has since been pursued in the United States."
On returning to Mount Vernon, he entertained Lafayette for the last
time before he sailed for France. After he had gone, Washington wrote
him this letter in which appears the affection of a friend and the
reverie of an old man looking somewhat wistfully towards sunset, "and
after that the dark":
In the moment of our separation, upon the road as I travelled,
and every hour since, I have felt all that love, respect, and
attachment for you, with which length of years, close connection,
and your merits have inspired me. I often asked myself as our
carriages separated, whether that was the last sight I ever should
have of you? And, though I wished to say No, my fears answered
Yes. I called to mind the days of my youth, and found they had
long since fled to return no more; that I was now descending the
hill I had been fifty-two years climbing, and that, though I was
blest with a good constitution, I was of a short-lived family and
might soon expect to be entombed in the mansion of my fathers.
These thoughts darkened the shades, and gave a gloom to the
picture, and consequently to my prospect of seeing you again.
We should not overlook the fact that Washington declined all gifts,
including a donation from Virginia, for his services as General during
the war. He had refused to take any pay, merely keeping a strict
account of what he spent for the Government from 1775 to 1782. This
amounted to over £15,000 and covered only sums actually disbursed by
him for the army. Unlike Marlborough, Nelson, and Wellington, and
other foreign chieftains on whom grateful countrymen conferred
fortunes and high titles, Washington remains as the one great
state-founder who literally _gave_ his services to his country.
Sparks gives the following interesting account of the way in which
Washington spent his days after his return to Mount Vernon:
His habits were uniform, and nearly the same as they had been
previous to the war. He rose before the sun and employed himself
in his study, writing letters or reading, till the hour of
breakfast. When breakfast was over, his horse was ready at the
door, and he rode to his farms and gave directions for the day to
the managers and laborers. Horses were likewise prepared for
his guests, whenever they chose to accompany him, or to amuse
themselves by excursions into the country. Returning from his
fields, and despatching such business as happened to be on hand,
he went again to his study, and continued there till three
o'clock, when he was summoned to dinner. The remainder of the day
and the evening were devoted to company, or to recreation in the
family circle. At ten he retired to rest. From these habits
he seldom deviated, unless compelled to do so by particular
circumstances.[1]
[Footnote 1: Sparks, 389, 390.]
This list does not include the item which Washington soon found the
greatest of his burdens--letter-writing. His correspondence increased
rapidly and to an enormous extent.
Many mistakenly think [he writes to Richard Henry Lee] that I am
retired to ease, and to that kind of tranquility which would grow
tiresome for want of employment; but at no period of my life, not
in the eight years I served the public, have I been obliged to
write so much myself, as I have done since my retirement.... It
is not the letters from my friends which give me trouble, or add
aught to my perplexity. It is references to old matters, with
which I have nothing to do; applications which often cannot
be complied with; inquiries which would require the pen of a
historian to satisfy; letters of compliment as unmeaning perhaps
as they are troublesome, but which must be attended to; and the
commonplace business which employs my pen and my time often
disagreeably. These, with company, deprive me of exercise, and
unless I can obtain relief, must be productive of disagreeable
consequences.[1]
[Footnote 1: Irving, IV, 466.]
When we remember that Washington used to write most of his letters
himself, and that from boyhood his handwriting was beautifully neat,
almost like copper-plate, in its precision and elegance, we shall
understand what a task it must have been for him to keep up his
correspondence. A little later he employed a young New Hampshire
graduate of Harvard, Tobias Lear, who graduated in 1783, who served
him as secretary until his death, and undoubtedly lightened the
epistolary cares of the General. But Washington continued to carry on
much of the letter-writing, especially the intimate, himself;
and, like the Adamses and other statesmen of that period, he kept
letter-books which contained the first drafts or copies of the letters
sent.
Another source of annoyance, to which, however, he resigned himself as
contentedly as he could, was the work of the artists who came to him
to beg him to sit for his picture or statue. Of the painters the most
eminent were Charles Peale and his son Rembrandt. Of the sculptors
Houdon undoubtedly made the best life-sized statue--that which still
adorns the Capitol at Richmond, Virginia--and from the time it was
first exhibited has been regarded as the best, most lifelike. Another,
sitting statue, was made for the State of North Carolina by the
Italian, Canova, the most celebrated of the sculptors of that day. The
artist shows a Roman costume, a favorite of his, unless, as in the
case of Napoleon, he preferred complete nudity. This statue was much
injured in a fire which nearly consumed the Capitol at Raleigh.
The English sculptor, Chantrey, executed a third statue in which
Washington was represented in military dress. This work used to be
shown at the State House in Boston.
Of the many painted portraits of Washington, those by Gilbert Stuart
have come to be accepted as authentic; especially the head in the
painting which hung in the Boston Athenaeum as a pendant to that of
Martha Washington, and is now in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. But
as I remarked earlier, the fact that none of the painters indicate the
very strong marks of smallpox (which he took on his trip to Barbados)
on Washington's face creates a natural suspicion as to accuracy in
detail of any of the portraits. Perhaps the divergence among them
is not greater than that among those of Mary, Queen of Scots, and
indicates only the marked incapacity of some of the painters who did
them. We are certainly justified in saying that Washington's features
varied considerably from his early prime to the days when he was
President. We have come to talk about him as an old man because
from the time when he was sixty years old he frequently used that
expression himself; although, as he died at sixty-seven, he was never
really "an old man." One wonders whether those who lived among pioneer
conditions said and honestly believed that they were old at the time
when, as we think, middle age would hardly have begun. Thus Abraham
Lincoln writes of himself as a patriarch, and no doubt sincerely
thought that he was, at a time when he had just reached forty. The two
features in Washington's face about which the portraitists differ most
are his nose and his mouth. In the early portrait by Charles Peale,
his nose is slightly aquiline, but not at all so massive and
conspicuous as in some of the later works. His mouth, and with it the
expression of the lower part of his face, changed after he began to
wear false teeth. Is it not fair to suppose that the effigies of
Washington, made in later years and usually giving him a somewhat
stiff and expansive grin, originated in the fact that his false set of
teeth lacked perfect adjustment?
Thus Washington dropped into the ways of peace; working each day what
would have been a long stint for a strong young man, and thinking,
besides, more than most men thought of the needs and future of the
country to which he had given liberty and independence. His chief
anxiety henceforth was that the United States of America should not
miss the great destiny for which he believed the Lord had prepared it.