Unpaid Soldiers, Anonymous Letters, and Washington’s Plea

"Surrender of Lord Cornwallis" was painted by John Trumbull in 1826. It depicts the victorious Continental Army astride, while "redcoats" stand. This capitulation came after the Siege of Yorktown. Public Domain

“Our soldiery are not devoid of reasoning faculties nor callous to the first feelings of nature, they have now served their country with fidelity for near five years, poorly clothed, badly fed, and worse paid; of the last article, trifling as it is, they have not seen a paper dollar in the way of pay for near twelve months,” wrote Brig. Gen. Anthony Wayne on Dec. 16, 1780 to Joseph Reed, president of Pennsylvania’s Supreme Executive Council.

Philadelphians quickly assembled goods and supplies for the soldiers, but they did not reach them before Wayne’s soldiers of the Pennsylvania Line mutinied. On Jan. 1, 1781, approximately 1,500 soldiers armed themselves, wounded two officers and killed another, on their march near Morristown, New Jersey to Princeton.

Among the soldiers’ grievances was that many believed their obligation had been fulfilled. They had signed an agreement stating they would serve “for three years or the duration of the war.” Desiring discharge for their three years of service, the Council obliged them and discharged more than 1,300 soldiers. Despite the mutiny and even the death of an officer, there is no record of disciplinary action.

An artist's depiction of the infantrymen in the Continental Army. Public Domain

Less than three weeks later, another mutiny erupted in Pompton, New Jersey among the New Jersey Line. George Washington ordered Maj. Gen. Robert Howe to surround the mutineers and force an unconditional surrender. The Line surrendered and two of the leading agitators were executed by 12 of their fellow mutineers. Washington’s response seemed to put an end to the mutinies, but he, among many others, were aware of the dangers Congress was courting.

Washington’s Deferment

Washington had become one of Virginia’s wealthiest men before the war broke out. When he was selected as commander in chief of the Continental Army in 1775, he refused a salary. “I beg leave to assure the Congress that as no pecuniary consideration could have tempted me to have accepted this arduous employment at the expense of my domestic ease and happi[ness], I do not wish to make any profit from it. I will keep an exact account of my expenses.”

Nearly every other officer and soldier, especially the private soldier, could not afford such liberties. The promise of a monthly salary, and, for some, the promise of cattle upon their discharge, was a risk worth taking. But as Wayne warned, the soldiers were not “devoid of reasoning” and the mutinies manifested their “feelings of nature.”

Hamilton’s Warning

The Articles of Confederation were adopted by Congress in 1777, though they weren’t ratified until March 1, 1781 due to Maryland’s holdout. Under the Articles, Congress did not have the power to tax in order to compensate the soldiers. The states maintained that power.

“In the midst of a war for our existence as a nation; in the midst of dangers too serious to be trifled with, some of the states have evaded, or refused, compliance with the demands of Congress in points of the greatest moment to the common safety,” Alexander Hamilton wrote in August of 1781―more than six months after the mutinies. “If they act such a part at this perilous juncture, what are we to expect in a time of peace and security?”

Hamilton, along with the superintendent of finance of the United States, Robert Morris, and his assistant Gouverneur Morris, recommended an amendment to the Articles of Confederation that would give Congress power to levy taxes to pay the soldiers. The states rejected the measure. Pension payments to retired soldiers which originated from a 1780 congressional resolution were halted in 1782. Among the many hardships faced by the army, adding inconsistent, insufficient, or nonpayment proved a recipe for mutiny.

The Threat of Peace

A month after Hamilton aired his grievance, the Siege of Yorktown began, ultimately ringing the death knell for the British. The American Revolution was coming to a close.

A year after the victory at Yorktown, peace negotiations between America and Great Britain began in Paris. Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, and John Jay headed the peace commission and by Nov. 30, 1782, preliminary articles to the peace treaty had been signed. Peace was all but assured. The soldiers, however, were not. They feared an end to the war would result in their destitution

In December of 1782, three officers made their way to Philadelphia to hand deliver a respectful, but strongly worded petition that warned “the uneasiness of the soldiers for want of pay is great and dangerous; any further experiments on their patience may have fatal effects.”

On Jan. 20, 1783, exactly two years after the failed Pompton Mutiny, the preliminary articles of peace between France and Great Britain were signed. A sense of dread spread throughout the Continental Army. This dread culminated in what became the Newburgh Conspiracy, and had the potential to be an army-wide mutiny. Some historians contend it was a planned coup d'etat.

It may appear nondescript today, but this site was the location of the Pompton Mutiny, an act of insubordination by Continental Army soldiers. Public Domain

Anonymous Letters

On March 10, two anonymous letters circulated among the Continental Army. The first of which requested a meeting the following day with the army’s officers to possibly “obtain that redress of Grievances.” The second letter, however, was longer and, as Washington noted, of “inexpressible concern.”

“After a pursuit of seven long Years,” the anonymous letter stated, “the object for which we set out, is at length brot within our reach. ... [T]hat suffering Courage of yours, was active once, it has conducted the United States of America, thro' a doubtfull and a 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? cherrish your worth—and reward your services?... [o]r is it rather a Country that tramples upon your rights, disdains your Cries & insults your distresses?”

The letter strongly suggested it was the latter. Nearly echoing Hamilton’s sentiments, the letter continued.

“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 … can you then consent to be the only sufferers by this revolution—and retiring from the field, grow old in poverty, wretchedness, and Contempt.

“[I]f 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—Awake—attend to your Situation & redress yourselves.”

Further, the letter warned to “suspect the man, who would advise to more moderation, and longer forbearance,” a comment seemingly directed at Washington.

Upon receiving a copy of both letters, Washington issued General Orders on March 11 making clear his “disapprobation of such disorderly proceedings.” The Orders nonchalantly included announcements of an officer’s promotion and a regiment’s upcoming relief by another regiment. Most importantly, it added that the March 11 meeting would be postponed until that coming Saturday at noon for “mature deliberation” of the “important object in view.” The Orders required that a presiding officer “report the result of the Deliberations to the Commander in Chief.”

A Surprise Visit

When the officers arrived at the Newbuilding in Newburgh, New York, Maj. Gen. Horatio Gates chaired the meeting. As the meeting began, the door opened and an unexpected officer walked in. It was Washington. He had long known of the bitter strife between the military and Congress concerning compensation and had remained in camp for the winter in order to “prevent if possible the disorders getting to an incurable height.”

Maj. Horatio Gates served in the Continental Army, but is an ambiguous figure because he worked to undermine George Washington. Gilbert Stuart painted this portrait of Gates in 1794. Public Domain

Gates quickly gave Washington the floor. The commander addressed the letter, suggesting “the Author of the Address, should have had more charity, than to mark for Suspicion, the Man who should recommend Moderation and longer forbearance,” adding further that the “anonymous Addresser” was in fact “an insidious Foe.” He urged his officers to take no measures that would “lessen the dignity, & sully the glory you have hitherto maintained” and to “place a full confidence in the purity of the intentions of Congress.”

Regarding the letter and possibly anyone who agreed with its contents, he encouraged them “to express your utmost horror & detestation of the Man who wishes, under any specious pretences, to overturn the liberties of our Country, & who wickedly attempts to open the flood Gates of Civil discord, & deluge our rising Empire in Blood.” By doing so, Washington assured the officers would “give one more distinguished proof of unexampled patriotism & patient virtue, rising superior to the pressure of the most complicated sufferings.”

With his personal address concluded, he asked permission to read a congressman’s letter of support. After struggling to read the first paragraph, Washington pulled a pair of spectacles from his pocket, apologizing, “Gentleman, you must pardon me, for I have not only grown gray but almost blind in service to my country.”

The line, stated merely in passing, iterated the stoic general’s love for his country and soldiers, and the tremendous strain he had been under for it and them. The statement caused a wave of emotion among the officers, leading some to openly weep. Upon Washington’s exit, the officers agreed to obey their commander’s final request. It was during this week in history, on March 15, 1783, that the Newburgh Conspiracy―the potential coup d'etat―came to naught.

President George Washington's Newburgh Address, which he gave on March 15, 1783, in the effort to quell unrest and potential revolt amongst American soldiers who had yet to be paid. Public Domain

News of Washington’s surprise arrival to the meeting and his address (along with copies of it) spread throughout Philadelphia. Four days after the meeting, Congress resolved to pay the soldiers full pay for the next five years.

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