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.
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.
Entrance of the American Army into New York,
November 25, 1873.
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:—