The Man Who Could Be King

Even today in the 1840s I ponder where our country would be if the General had led a successful insurrection or even if the General had stood aside and been succeeded by a general less virtuous and noble. I read about these South American countries that gained independence from Spain in the 1820s. Now most of them are ruled by military juntas or generals, and I do not know if they have more liberties or fewer than under Spanish rule.

The General’s strategy with Congress worked, up to a point. I drafted letter after letter to governors and congressmen, in which the General used the events at Newburgh to extol the glorious patriotism of the army and shame those officials into doing what was right. In April Congress fell short of the nine states needed to grant a decent benefits package—it was rejected by the New Englanders, who had urged other states to send troops to their aid back in 1775 and 1776. Incomprehensible!

Finally, my recollection is that the General did get the Congress to give eighty dollars plus three or four months’ extra pay to enlisted men, five dollars per month to invalids for life, and a lump-sum payment of one-half of five years’ pay to the officers, with the latter payment delayed until the following January. That was something, although not all that the officers and troops had hoped for. The compensation was in Continental currency worth far less than its stated value and in notes that later might or might not be honored. The General urged the troops and officers as they left the army that spring to hold on to those notes, but most sold them way below value to speculators who, years later after the establishment of our government, profited handsomely. The General had hoped for more, but I suspect he doubted his own words that day in March about placing faith in the Congress.

The General certainly knew by the fall of 1783 what was happening.

“Josiah, we have a Congress and states who will do just enough to escape the odium of the public’s wrath. Then we have those leeches who have sucked blood from our great band of brothers the whole war.”

Still, despite the General’s and my disappointment at the inadequate congressional action, we are certainly better off than if we had gone through a civil war and a military dictatorship such as our neighbors to the south. The army received something, we do have an independent union, and it is a republic not run by caudillos or a Bonaparte.

And what of the other officers so active in the army at Newburgh that winter in 1783? Laurens died in some useless skirmish down in Carolina well after the war had been decided. What a great loss. Hamilton became secretary of the treasury and later was killed in that lamentable duel with Aaron Burr. My fellow aide, Humphreys, became a diplomat for our new government, minister to Spain. My other fellow aide at Newburgh, Walker, became a congressman. Varick, the General’s record keeper, became mayor of New York City. Colonel Brooks, who helped draft the resolution, became governor of Massachusetts.

And what of those who laid the groundwork for the potential insurrection? Gates ended up in the New York State legislature. I read that the General, as president, gave Armstrong a minor position in the New York port, which he parlayed later into a lengthy career in government ending as secretary of war under President Madison. I found this hard to understand. The General pretended as if nothing untoward had happened. He never evinced to me any resentment against the potential mutineers. Perhaps it was to make sure the public had no doubts about the honor of the army. Perhaps the General was following the strategy he had followed with General Lee and Continental Congress President Mifflin (who went from being a member of the Conway Cabal to president of the Continental Congress): he hoped to make those who opposed him turn into supporters because he ignored their transgressions. Ignored, but I doubt the General forgot. Any human being in that situation must have remembered and harbored resentments. I believe that the General held numerous grudges—he just believed that a leader should appear above such petty human emotions. And he was, as usual, successful in conveying the appearance he wished to make. I suppose this is another example of the General as actor. Then again, if you will yourself to overcome petty emotions, does this make you an actor? Or does it just make you someone who molds your personality so as to accent positive rather than negative traits?

I returned to Philadelphia, married Prescilla, and went into the family merchant banking business, where I stayed until we moved to Illinois several years ago to be with our children and grandchildren. I was one of the few aides who did not go into politics. Three—Hamilton, Randolph, and McHenry—served in the Constitutional Convention. The General wrote several times to me after my service and was always gracious. He thanked me for sharing his troubles, giving wise counsel, and guiding his “official family,” the term he used to describe his aides.

I remember the letter the General sent me in early 1784. He did not seem to show any regrets about his decision a year before at Newburgh. He told me, as he did others, “I am become a private citizen on the banks of the Potomac and under the shadow of my own vine and fig tree.” Then, referring to our past conversations, he said, “I am no longer a soldier pursuing fame.” The letter made me chuckle. Thousands of Americans wished they were famous like the General, and he just wanted to live under his fig tree.

I read the books and articles that come out on the General now. There seems to be a dichotomy between what some of these learned men think and what the majority of our people think. While most biographies of the General are flattering, some perhaps too flattering, the views of the General that my great-grandchildren are getting from their teacher—that his generalship was overrated; that he was intellectually inferior to Adams, Jefferson, and the other founders; that he supported slavery because until the end of his life the General was a slaveholder; etc.—seem to be the start of an emerging trend, and we shall probably see more such assessments in the future.

As my pen nears my final pages, I hope I have set the record straight on some of these matters, as I will try to do for my great-grandchildren next week.

John Ripin Miller's books