Washington and the American Republic, Vol. 3.

by Benson John Lossing

1783

At length forbearance appeared to many as no longer a virtue, and some officers resolved not to wait for justice in idle expectation of its appearance from the halls of legislation. A plan was arranged among a few, “for assembling the officers, not in mass, but by representation; and for passing a series of resolutions, which, in the hands of their committee, and of their auxiliaries in Congress, would form a new and powerful lever” of operations. Major John Armstrong, a young officer six-and-twenty years of age, and aid-de-camp of Gates, was chosen to write an address to the army, suitable to the subject, and this, with an anonymous notification of a meeting of officers, was circulated privately on the tenth of March, 1783.[2]

That address exhibited superior talent in the writer, and its tone was calculated to make a deep impression upon the minds of the malcontents. After preparing their feelings for a relinquishment of faith in the justice of their country, which had been already much weakened by real and fancied injuries, he remarked:—

“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 verge of both, another step would ruin you forever. 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 deserved the chains you broke.” He then took a review of the past and present—their wrongs and their complaints—their petitions and the denials of redress—and then said: “If this, then, be your treatment while the swords you wear are necessary for the defense of America, what have you to expect from peace, when your voice shall sink, and your strength dissipate by division; when these very swords, the instruments and companions of your glory, shall be taken from your sides, and no remaining mark of military distinction left but wants, infirmities, and scars? Can you, then, consent to be the only sufferers by the 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 honor? If you can, go, and carry 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.”

The writer now changed from appeal to advice. “I would advise you, therefore,” he said, “to come to some final opinion upon what you can bear and what you will suffer. If your determination be in proportion to your wrongs, carry your appeal from the justice to the fears of 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 suing, soft, unsuccessful epithet of memorial.” He advised them to talk boldly to Congress, and to warn that body that the slightest mark of indignity from them now would operate like the grave, to part them and the army for ever; “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 direction of your illustrious leader, you will retire to some unsettled country, smile in your turn, and 'mock when their fear cometh on.' Let it represent also, that should they comply with the request of your late memorial, it would make you more happy and them more reputable.”

Copies of these papers were placed in the hands of the commander-in-chief on the day when they were circulated, and with consummate sagacity and profound political wisdom, he resolved to guide and control the proceedings in a friendly manner at the meeting of officers, rather than to check them by authority. In general orders the next morning, he referred to the anonymous papers, as disorderly, and utterly disapproved of by the commander-in-chief. At the same time he requested that the general and field officers, with one officer of each company, and a proper representation of the staff of the army, should assemble at a place designated, at twelve o'clock on Saturday, the fifteenth, for the purpose of hearing the report of the committee of the army to Congress. With masterly skill he requested the senior officer (General Gates, whom he suspected, and doubtless with justice, of being the chief actor in the drama) to preside at the meeting.

When this order appeared, Armstrong prepared and issued another address, more subdued in tone, but so adroitly worded, as to convey the idea that Washington approved of the scheme, the time of the meeting only being changed. This interpretation Washington frustrated, by private conversation with the principal officers, in whose good sense and integrity he had confidence. The minds of these he impressed with a sense of the danger that must attend any rash act at such a crisis; and he inculcated moderation and forbearance. He thus prepared the best men in camp to deliberate at the coming conference, without passion or prejudice.

The meeting was held pursuant to the order of Washington. There was a full attendance of officers, and Gates presided. There was a raised platform at one end of the room in which the meeting was held, on which Gates and others sat. Upon this Washington took a seat, and when the meeting was called to order, he advanced upon the platform, while the most solemn silence prevailed in the assembly, and read an address which he had prepared for the occasion. It was compact in thought, dignified and patriotic in expression, and mild in language, yet severe in implication.[3]

When he had concluded the reading, Washington retired without uttering a word, leaving the officers to deliberate without restraint. The address had a most powerful and salutary effect. The conference was brief. They did not deliberate long, but proceeded to pass resolutions offered by Knox, and seconded by Putnam, by unanimous vote, thanking the commander-in-chief for the course he had pursued; expressing their unabated attachment to his person and their country; declaring their unshaken confidence in the good faith of Congress, and their determination to bear with patience their grievances, until, in due time, they should be redressed. Gates, as president of the meeting, signed the address, and on the eighteenth, Washington, in general orders, expressed his satisfaction.