BRITISH TROOPS LEAVE THE CITY OF NEW YORK--AMERICAN TROOPS AND CIVIL
AUTHORITIES ENTER AND TAKE POSSESSION--THE BRITISH AND AMERICAN
TROOPS CONTRASTED--PARTING SCENE BETWEEN WASHINGTON AND HIS
OFFICERS--WASHINGTON SETTLES HIS ACCOUNTS WITH THE UNITED
STATES--JOURNEY TO ANNAPOLIS--COMPLIMENTARY DINNER AND BALL
THERE--WASHINGTON RESIGNS HIS COMMISSION--HIS RETIREMENT TO PRIVATE
LIFE AT MOUNT VERNON--LETTERS TO HIS FRIENDS ON THE
SUBJECT--WASHINGTON'S DREAMS OF QUIET LIFE.
It was late in November, 1783, before the British troops were prepared
to leave New York, so large was the number of persons, and so great was
the quantity of goods to be first conveyed away. At length Sir Guy
Carleton gave Washington notice when he would be ready to surrender the
city. Governor Clinton summoned the members of the state council to
convene at Eastchester on the twenty-first of November, to prepare for
the re-establishment of civil government in New York city and its
vicinity, and a detachment of troops came down from West Point to be
ready to take possession of the posts about to be evacuated by the
British.
Carleton appointed the twenty-fifth of November as the day for the
evacuation, and before that time the British troops were drawn in from
the surrounding posts. On the morning of the twenty-fifth Washington and
Governor Clinton were at Harlem, with the detachment from West Point,
under General Knox; and during the morning they all moved toward the
city, and halted at the Bowery. The troops were composed of
light-dragoons, light-infantry, and artillery, and were accompanied by
the civil officers of the state.
[Illustration: ENTRANCE OF THE AMERICAN ARMY INTO NEW YORK, NOVEMBER 25,
1873.]
Between twelve and one o'clock the British troops were embarked. The
fleet immediately weighed anchor, and with a favoring breeze sailed out
the Narrows. The American troops and the civil authorities then marched
in and took formal possession. Washington and Clinton, with their
respective suites, led the procession, escorted by a troop of
Westchester cavalry. Then followed the lieutenant-governor and members
of the council, General Knox and the officers of the army, the speaker
of the assembly, and a large procession of citizens on horseback and on
foot.
The evacuation of the British, and the entrance of the Americans,
produced in the inhabitants mingled feelings of joy and sadness. The
whigs greatly rejoiced at their deliverance, while the families of
loyalists were saddened by the change. There was a marked contrast
between the troops that left and the troops that came. "We had been
accustomed for a long time to military display in all the finish and
finery of garrison life," said an American lady to Mr. Irving; "the
troops just leaving us were as if equipped for show, and with their
scarlet uniforms and burnished arms, made a brilliant display; the
troops that marched in, on the contrary, were ill-clad and
weather-beaten, and made a forlorn appearance; but they were _our_
troops, and as I looked at them and thought upon all they had done and
suffered for us, my heart and my eyes were full, and I admired and
gloried in them the more, because they _were_ weather-beaten and
forlorn."[6]
But joy was the predominant feeling, and on that night the city was a
scene of public festivity, and demonstrations of unbounded pleasure. The
governor gave a feast, and splendid fireworks illuminated the town.
On the fourth of December Washington was prepared for a journey to
Annapolis, where the Congress was in session, to resign his commission
into their hands. A handsome barge was made ready to convey him from the
Whitehall ferry to Paulus's Hook (now Jersey City), and lay at the
stairs, ready manned at twelve o'clock. Meanwhile Washington and his
officers had assembled in the parlor of Fraunce's tavern, near by, to
take a final leave of each other. Marshall has left on record, a brief
but touching narrative of the scene. As the commander-in-chief entered
the room, and found himself in the midst of his officers--his old
companions-in-arms, many of whom had shared with him the fortunes of war
from its earliest stages--his tender feelings were too powerful for
concealment, and defied his usual self-command. Filling a glass of wine,
and taking it in his hand, he turned upon his friends a sad but
benignant countenance, and said:--
"With a heart full of love and gratitude, I now take leave of you, most
devoutly wishing that your latter days may be as prosperous and happy,
as your former ones have been glorious and honorable." After lifting the
wine to his lips, and drinking a farewell benediction, he added, while
his voice trembled with emotion:--
"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, first turned to him. Washington, incapable of utterance,
grasped his hand in silence, and embraced him affectionately, while his
eyes were suffused with tears. In the same affectionate manner, every
officer took leave of him. Not a word was spoken. Feeling held speech in
abeyance. The tear of manly sensibility was in every eye, and in
dignified silence they all followed their beloved chief as he left the
room, passed through a corps of light-infantry, and walked to Whitehall
to embark. Having entered the barge, he turned to the tearful friends
upon the wharf, and waving his hat, bade them a silent adieu. They stood
and watched the barge until it was hidden from their view by an angle of
the battery, when, in silent and solemn procession, they all returned to
the place where they had assembled.
Washington stopped a few days in Philadelphia, where he adjusted his
accounts with the comptroller of the treasury. These were all in perfect
order, from the beginning of the war until the moment of settlement, on
the thirteenth of December. They were entirely in his own hand-waiting.
The gross amount was almost seventy-five thousand dollars, in which were
included moneys expended for secret service and in various incidental
charges. For his own services he would receive nothing.
Washington's journey from New York to Annapolis, in Maryland, was one
continued ovation. The people everywhere received him with enthusiasm;
and public meetings, legislative assemblies, and learned and religious
institutions, greeted him with addresses. He arrived at Annapolis on
Friday, the nineteenth of December, where he was joined by Mrs.
Washington and many warm personal friends. On the following day he
addressed a note to the Congress, inquiring when, and in what manner it
would be proper to offer his resignation; and on Monday he was present
at a dinner ordered by that body. In the evening he attended a grand
ball given in his honor.
On Tuesday, the twenty-third, Washington wrote to the Baron
Steuben--"This is the last letter I shall write while I continue in the
service of my country. The hour of my resignation is fixed at twelve
to-day; after which I shall become a private citizen on the banks of the
Potomac."
At the hour named the chief was before the assembled Congress, of whom
General Thomas Mifflin was president. The hall was filled with public
functionaries and military officers, accompanied by ladies; and in the
gallery was Mrs. Washington and many more ladies than were on the floor
below.
Washington was conducted to the hall by Secretary Thomson, when the
president said, "The United States in Congress assembled, are prepared
to receive your communication." Washington then arose, and in a
dignified manner, and clear, rich voice, said:--
"Mr. PRESIDENT: The great events on which my resignation depended,
having at length taken place, I now have the honor 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 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."
President Mifflin replied: "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 while 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; in 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."
Washington, now a private citizen, hastened to his beloved home on the
Potomac, accompanied on the way by many friends, among whom was Colonel
Walker, one the aids of the Baron Steuben. By his hand, he sent a letter
to Governor George Clinton--the first that he wrote after his retirement
from office--in which he said: "The scene is at last closed. I am now a
private citizen on the banks of the Potomac. I feel myself eased of a
load of public care. I hope to spend the remainder of my days in
cultivating the affections of good men, and in the practice of the
domestic virtues."
It was on Christmas eve when Washington reached Mount Vernon. It must
have been a happy and a merry Christmas in that beautiful home, for the
toils and dangers of war were over, peace was smiling upon all the land,
and the people were free and independent. The enjoyment of his home,
under these circumstances, was an exquisite one to the retired soldier;
and in his letters to his friends he gives frequent and touching
evidence of his happiness in private life. To Lafayette he wrote on the
first of February:--
"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 a 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."
A little later he wrote to Madam Lafayette, saying:--
"Freed from the clangor of arms and the bustle of a camp, from the
cares of public employment and the responsibility of office, I am
now enjoying domestic ease under the shadow of my own vine and my
own fig-tree; and in a small villa, with the implements of husbandry
and lambkins around me, I expect to glide gently down the stream of
life, till I am entombed in the mansion of my fathers.
"Come, then, let me entreat you, and call my cottage your home; for
your own doors do not open to you with more readiness than mine
would. You will see the plain manner in which we live, and meet with
rustic civility; and you shall taste the simplicity of rural life.
It will diversify the scene, and may give you a higher relish for
the gayeties of the court, when you return to Versailles. In these
wishes and most respectful compliments, Mrs. Washington joins me."
Notwithstanding Washington's retirement was so perfect as to amount to
positive isolation for a month or more, on account of the effects of an
intensely severe winter, which closed almost every avenue to Mount
Vernon, and suspended even neighborly intercourse, he found it
extremely difficult to divest himself of the habits of the camp.
"Strange as it may seem," he wrote to General Knox on the twentieth of
February, "it is nevertheless true, that it was not till lately I could
get the better of my usual custom of ruminating, as soon as I waked in
the morning, on the business of the ensuing day; and of my surprise at
finding, after revolving many things in my mind, that I was no longer a
public man, nor had anything 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
burthen 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 quicksands
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."
Surely, if ever a man had cause for serenity of mind while taking a
retrospect of his public and private life, it was George Washington.
From his youth he had walked in the path of truth and rectitude, and
throughout his long public career of about thirty years, at the time of
his retirement from the army, not a stain of dishonor--not even the
suspicion of a stain--had ever been seen upon his character. His moral
escutcheon was bright, his conscience was unqualifiedly approving, his
country loved him above all her sons. With a sincere desire to spend the
remainder of his days as a simple farmer upon the Potomac, without the
ambition of being famous, or the expectation of being again called into
public life, he resumed his old domestic habits, and prepared for the
enjoyment of the evening of his days undisturbed by the turmoils of
society around him.
"My manner of living is plain," he wrote to a friend, "and I do not mean to
be put out by it. A glass of wine and a bit of mutton are always ready, and
such as will be content to partake of them, are always welcome. Those who
expect more will be disappointed."
But Washington's modest dream of quietude and simplicity of life in his
home at Mount Vernon was not realized.
FOOTNOTES:
[6] Life of Washington, iv. 440.