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A Daily Dose of History
Victory in the Revolutionary War was no guarantee, of course, that Americans would thereafter enjoy the fruits of liberty and democracy. One of the earliest and most dangerous challenges to the new American republic came in March 1783.
The official end of the war was on the horizon (the Treaty of Paris was signed in September) and it seemed clear that in the near future the American army would be disbanded. Or would it?
After years of unkept promises of payment, there was widespread anger and unrest among the men and officers. Congress had never been able to pay the soldiers on time and over two years after passing a bill granting veterans half-pay pensions, none had been paid. The angry rumor circulating through the camps was that Congress did not intend to ever meet its obligations to the soldiers.
The root of the problem was that under the Articles of Confederation Congress had no authority to impose taxes. The only way the federal government could get revenue was to request it from the states, which had always been reluctant and delinquent payors. With the immediate threat from the British removed, the states were even more hesitant to send money to Congress. And so the soldiers weren’t being paid, and they weren’t happy about it.
In the army’s camp at Newburgh, New York, an inflammatory letter written by an aide-de-camp of General Horatio Gates was circulating among the officers. The letter called for the army to deliver a forceful ultimatum to Congress. If the war continued, the letter advised, the army should move into the interior of the country and “leave an ungrateful nation to defend itself.” Or, it continued, “If peace takes place, never sheath your swords until you have obtained full and ample justice.” The implication of the latter proposal was clear. The letter suggested that if Congress did not accede to the demands of the army, then the military should take power. On March 15, the officers in camp gathered in a meeting to discuss the letter and their options.
Gates, a long-time rival of Washington, called the meeting to order and was about to proceed, when, to the surprise of all present, General Washington entered the room and announced that he wished to speak. Gates stepped aside (probably reluctantly) and Washington turned and faced the assembled officers.
Washington began by reminding the officers, “I was among the first who embarked in the cause of our common country...I have never left your side one moment... I have been the constant companion and witness of your distresses.” Staring out at the men in the now-silent room, Washington continued, “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?” Washington urged the men, the officers who had served the country faithfully for many arduous years, to show patience and patriotism and to put their “full confidence in the purity of the intentions of Congress.” “And let me conjure you,” he continued, “in the name of our common country, as you value your own sacred honor, 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.”
Washington then reached into his coat pocket and brought out a letter from a Virginia congressman, saying that he would close by reading the letter. But as he tried to read it he faltered, and, to the discomfort of those present, paused. Washington took out his reading glasses, put them on, and said, “Gentleman, you must pardon me, for I have not only grown gray but almost blind in service to my country.”
Seeing their proud and stoical general humbled this way, some of the officers broke into tears. After Washington left the room, they voted their unanimous thanks to the general, adding “the officers reciprocate his affectionate expressions, with the greatest sincerity of which the human heart is capable.” The “Newburgh Conspiracy” had been defused.
George Washington delivered his "Newburgh Address," defusing the “Newburgh Conspiracy,” on March 15, 1783, two hundred thirty-nine years ago today.