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Excellency, for the inspection of Congress, will, I flatter myself, be considered as the last glorious proof of patriotism which could have been given, by men who aspired to the distinction of a patriot army, and will not only confirm their claim to the justice, but will increase their title to the gratitude, of their country." His concluding words are:

"If, besides the simple payment of their wages, a further compensation is not due to the sufferings and sacrifices of the officers, then have I been mistaken indeed. If the whole army have not merited whatever a grateful people can bestow, then have I been beguiled by prejudice, and built opinion on the basis of error. If this country should not, in the event, perform everything which has been requested in the late memorials to Congress, then will my belief become vain, and the hope that has been excited void of foundation. And if, as has been suggested, for the purpose of inflaming their passions, the officers of the army are to be the only sufferers by this

Revolution; if, retiring from the field, they are to grow old in poverty, wretchedness, and contempt; if they are 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; then shall I have learned what ingratitude is; then shall I have realized a tale which will embitter every moment of my future life. But I am under no such apprehensions; a country rescued by their arms from impending ruin, will never leave unpaid the debt of gratitude."*

On March 22, 1783, Congress therefore passed resolutions providing that the half pay for life granted to the soldiers should be commuted to five years' full pay after the close of the war, to be received at the option of Congress or in securities given to other creditors of the United States. By the following July the accounts of the army were finally made up and adjusted.‡

fortune broke in on us, the coldness and severity of government would relax, and that more than justice, that gratitude, would blaze forth on those hands which had upheld her, in the darkest stages of her passage from impending servitude to acknowledged independence. But 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 very edge of both, another step would ruin you forever. To be tame and unprovoked when injuries press hard on 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 deserve those chains you broke. To guard against this evil, let us take a review of the ground on which we now stand, and thence carry our thoughts forward for a moment, into the unexplored field of experiment.

After a pursuit of seven long years, the object for which we set out is at length brought within our reach yes, my friends, that suffering courage of yours was active once: it has conducted the United States of America through a doubtful and bloody war. It has placed her in the chair of independency, and peace returns again to bless

- whom? A country willing to redress your wrongs, cherish your worth, and reward your services? A country courting your return to private life, with tears of gratitude and smiles of admiration, longing to divide with you that independency which your gallantry has given, and those riches which your wounds have preserved? Is this the case? or is it rather a country that tramples on your rights, disdains your cries, and insults your distresses? Have you not more than once suggested your wishes, and made known your wants to Congress?- wants and wishes which gratitude and policy should have anticipated rather than evaded; and have you not lately, in the meek language of entreating memorials, begged from their justice what you could no longer expect from their favor? How have you been answered? Let the letter which you are called to consider to-morrow reply.

If this, then, be your treatment, while the swords you wear are necessary for the defence of America, what have you to expect from peace, when your voice shall sink, and your strength dissipate by division?- when those very swords, the instruments and companions of your glory, shall be taken from your sides, and no remaining mark of military distinction be left but your

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wants, infirmities, and scars? Can you, then, consent to be the only sufferers by this 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 with you the jest of tories and the scorn of whigs; the ridicule, and, what is worse, the pity of the world. Gostarve, and be forgotten! But if your spirit should revolt at this; if you have sense enough to discover, and spirit enough to oppose tyranny under whatever garb it may assume; whether it be the plain coat of republicanism, or the splendid robe of royalty; if you have not yet learned to discriminate between a people and a cause, between men and principles-awake; attend to your situation, and redress yourselves. If the present moment be lost, every future effort is in vain; and your threats then, will be as empty as your entreaties now.

I would advise you, therefore, to come to some final opinion on what you can bear, and what you will suffer. If your determination be in any 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. Let it be represented in language that will neither dishonor you by its rudeness, nor betray you by its fears, what has been promised by Congress, and what has been performed - how long and how patiently you have suffered how little you have asked, and how much of that little has been denied. Tell them that, though you were the first, and would wish to be the last to encounter danger, though despair itself can never drive you into dishonor, it may drive you from the field; the wound often irritated, and never healed, may at length become incurable; and that the slightest mark of indignity from Congress now must operate like the grave, and part you forever; 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 directions of your illustrious leader, you will retire to some unsettled country, smile in your turn, and "mock when

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their fear cometh." But let it represent, also that should they comply with the request of your late memorial, it would make you more happy, and them more respectable; that while war should continue, you would follow their standard

II. WASHINGTON'S ADDRESS TO GENTLEMEN: By an anonymous summons, an attempt has been made to convene you together. How inconsistent with the rules of propriety, how unmilitary, and how subversive of all order and discipline, let the good sense of the army decide.

In the moment of this summons, another anonymous production was sent into circulation, addressed more to the feelings and passions than to the judgment of the army. The author of the piece is entitled to much credit for the goodness of his pen; and I could wish he had as much credit for the rectitude of his heart; for, as men see through different optics, and are induced by the reflecting faculties of the mind to use different means to attain the same end, the author of the address should have had more charity than to "mark for suspicion the man who should recommend moderation and longer forbearance;" or, in other words, who should not think as he thinks, and act as he advises. But he had another plan in view, in which candor and liberality of sentiment, regard to justice and love of country, have no part; and he was right to insinuate the darkest suspicion to effect the blackest design. That the address was drawn with great art, and is designed to answer the most insidious purposes; that it is calculated to impress the mind with an idea of premeditated injustice in the sovereign power of the United States, and rouse all those resentments which must unavoidably flow from such a belief; that the secret mover of this scheme, whoever he may be, intended to take advantage of the passions, while they were warmed by the recollection of past distresses, without giving time to cool, deliberative thinking, and that composure of mind which is so necessary to give dignity and stability to measures, is rendered too obvious, by the mode of conducting the business, to need other proof than a reference to the proceedings.

Thus much, gentlemen, I have thought it incumbent on me to observe to you, to show on what principles I opposed the irregular and hasty meeting which was proposed to have been held on Tuesday last, and not because I wanted a disposition to give you every opportunity, consistently with your own honor and the dignity of the army, to make known your grievances. If

THE OFFICERS OF THE ARMY.

my conduct heretofore has not evinced to you that I have been a faithful friend of the army, my declaration of it at this time would be equally unavailing and improper. But as I was among the first who embarked in the cause of our common country; as I have never left your side one moment, but when called from you on public duty; as I have been the constant companion and witness of your distresses, and not among the last to feel and acknowledge your merits; as I have ever considered my own military reputation as inseparably connected with that of the army; as my heart has ever expanded with joy when I have heard its praises, and my indignation has arisen when the mouth of detraction has been opened against it; it can scarcely be supposed at this last stage of the war that I am indifferent to its interests. But how are they to be promoted? The way is plain, says the anonymous addresser: "If war continues, remove into the unsettled country, there establish yourselves, and leave an ungrateful country to defend itself!" But who are they to defend?- our wives, our children, our farms and other property which we leave behind us? or in this state of hostile separation, are we to take the two first the latter cannot be removed to perish in a wilderness, with hunger, cold and nakedness?

"If peace takes place, never sheathe your swords," says he, "till you have obtained full and ample justice." 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 some emissary, perhaps, from New York-plotting the ruin of both, by sowing the seeds of discord and separation between the civil and military powers of the continent? And what a compliment does he pay our understandings, when he recommends measures, in either alternative, impracticable in their nature? But here, gentlemen, I will drop the curtin, because

it would be as imprudent in me to assign my reasons for this opinion, as it would be insulting to your conception to suppose you stood in need of them. A moment's reflection will convince every dispassionate mind of the physical impossibility of carrying either proposal into execution. There might, gentlemen, be an impropriety in my taking notice, in this address to you, of an anony. mous production; but the manner in which this performance has been introduced to the army; the effect it was intended to have, together with some other circumstances, will amply justify my observations on the tendency of this writing.

With respect to the advice given by the author, to suspect the man who shall recommend moderate measures and longer forbearance, I spurn it, as every man who regards that liberty and reveres that justice for which we contend, undoubtedly must; for if men are to be precluded from offering their sentiments on a matter which may involve the most serious and alarming consequences that can invite the consideration of mankind, reason is of no use to us. The freedom of speech may be taken away, and, dumb and silent, we may be led, like sheep to the slaughter. I cannot in justice to my own belief, and what I have great reason to conceive is the intention of Congress, conclude this address without giving it as my decided opinion, that that honorable body entertain exalted sentiments of the services of the army, and, from a full conviction of its merits and sufferings, will do it complete justice. That their endeavors to discover and establish funds for this purpose have been unwearied, and will not cease till they have succeeded, I have not a doubt.

But, like all other large bodies, where there is a variety of different interests to reconcile, their determinations are slow. Why then should we distrust them? and in consequence of this distrust, adopt measures which may cast a shade over that glory which has been so justly acquired, and tarnish the reputation of an army which is celebrated through all Europe for its fortitude and patriotism? And for what is this done? - to bring the object we seek nearer? No; most certainly, in my opinion, it will cast it at a greater distance. For myself, (and I take no merit in giving the assurance, being induced to it from principles of gratitude, veracity, and justice, and a grateful sense of the confidence you have ever placed in me) a recollection of the cheerful assist

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ance and prompt obedience I have experienced from you, under every vicissitude of fortune, and the sincere affection I feel for an army I have so long had the honor to command, will oblige me to declare, in this public and solemn manner that in the attainment of complete justice for all your trials and dangers, and in the gratification of every wish, so far as may be done consistently with the great duty I owe my country, and those powers we are bound to respect, you may freely command my services to the utmost extent of my abilities.

While I give you these assurances, and pledge myself, in the most unequivocal manner, to exert whatever abilities I am possessed of in your favor, let me entreat you, gentlemen, on your part, not to take any measures which, viewed in the calm light of reason, will lessen the dignity and sully the glory you have hitherto maintained. Let me request you to rely on the plighted faith of your country, and place a full confidence in the purity of the intentions of Congress; that, previous to your dissolution as an army, they will cause all your accounts to be fairly liquidated, as directed in the resolutions which were published to you two days ago; and that they will adopt the most effectual measures in their power to render ample justice to you for your faithful and meritorious services. And let me conjure you, in the name of our common country, as you value your own saered 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.

By thus determining, and thus acting. you will pursue the plain and direct road to the attainment of your wishes; you will defeat the insidious designs of our enemies, who are compelled to resort from open force to secret artifice. You will give one more distinguished proof of unexampled patriotism and patient virtue, rising superior to the pressure of the most complicated sufferings; and you will, by the dignity of your conduct, afford occasion for posterity to say, when speaking of the glorious example you have exhibited to mankind. "Had this day been wanting, the world had never seen the last stage of perfection to which human nature is capable of attaining."

The repeated defeats of the British in America had caused amazement and consternation in England. The first successes of the war had elated the ministry, and it was believed that the war would be of short duration. Cornwallis' surrender, however, had convinced the ministry that the United States could not be subdued by force, and that the Americans were bound to secure independence no matter how long it required. The ministry therefore came to the conclusion that the contest was as unprofitable as it was hopeless of any good result.

After Burgoyne's surrender the British ministry made various indirect advances to Franklin through correspondence of his old friends in London and by secret visits to him.* But as these overtures had for their object the separation of America from the

French alliance and a reconciliation between the colonies and the Mother

Moore, American Diplomacy, p. 25; John Adams, Works, vol. iii., pp. 177–181.

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Country,* they came to naught as neither condition could be accepted. The king and cabinet had firmly resolved that the colonies should return to British allegiance, and the most devoted friends of America in England fondly cherished the hope that such would be the case. Even Lord Chatham had said:

“My Lords, I rejoice that the grave has not closed upon me, that I am still alive to lift up my voice against the dismemberment of this ancient and most noble monarchy. * Where

is the man that will dare advise such a measure? Shall this kingdom, that has survived whole and entire the Danish depredations, the Scottish inroads, and the Norman conquests, that has stood the threatened invasion of the Spanish Armada, now fall prostrate before the House of Bourbon? Surely, my Lords, this nation is no longer what it was. Shall such a people that seventeen years ago was the terror of the world, now stoop so low as to tell its ancient, inveterate enemy take all we have, only give us peace? It is impossible."

But Chatham's eloquence could not obscure the fact that peace was a

See the letters of John Adams to the Presi dent of Congress, and others in his Works, vol. vii., pp. 180-186, 236 et seq., 253, 339-341, 417419, 427-430, 433-434, 436-439, 440, 441-443, 444-445, 446-450, 450-452, 453-455, 550, 570.