In this first article of the series “When Character Counted,” we visit a moment when a pair of spectacles helped save the American experiment of democracy.
It was mid-March 1783 in Newburgh, New York, but mutiny, not spring, was in the air.
Dissatisfaction and anger had reached the breaking point in the Continental Army encampment. With the fighting essentially ended and peace with Great Britain impending, the Confederation Congress in Philadelphia was dithering on paying the soldiers and officers, many of whom hadn’t seen a penny in months.
The men sent petitions to the Congress, asking for relief and for the pensions promised for their service. When these requests had little effect, a spirit of rebellion began to grow. Spurred on by incendiary pamphlets, this angry mood seized some of the officers, who considered marching on Philadelphia and demanding their wages at gunpoint.
The matter came to a head when a group of these officers planned a March 11 meeting in the Temple of Virtue, a large hall built for such purposes. There, they would decide whether to abandon the army and leave the country open to renewed British incursions, or to march in arms on Philadelphia.
The American experiment in liberty seemed destined to end before it had scarcely begun.
The Man in the Gap
The commander of this unhappy army, George Washington, was one of the few who sympathized with both the soldiers and with Congress, which lacked the means to raise the necessary funds. Through his letters to Congress and to officers like Alexander Hamilton, he tried to mollify the heated emotions while at the same time demanding his soldiers receive what they were owed.
Washington lacked the higher education of men like John Adams and Thomas Jefferson, nor was he a genius in the arts of war, but he was renowned for one quality: his character. Since adolescence, when he copied out 110 “Rules of Civility & Decent Behavior in Company and Conversation,” he had placed a premium on decorum, appearance, and above all else, the practice of virtue.
It was for these qualities that he became renowned and loved by the American people. As Thomas Jefferson wrote in a letter years after Washington’s death, “It may truly be said that never did nature and fortune combine more perfectly to make a man great, and to place him in the same constellation with whatever worthies have merited from man an everlasting remembrance.”
Having gotten wind of this meeting, Washington brought all of those qualities of character to the fore. He banned the March 11 meeting and announced another for March 15, giving himself time to prepare his remarks while leaving the impression that he would be absent.
Turning Point
Believing that their commander supported them, the senior officers gathered on the appointed evening, which happened to be the Ides of March, and began to make their complaints and debate what course of action to take. Gen. Horatio Gates, Washington’s subordinate and one of the conspirators, was directing the meeting when Washington entered the Temple of Virtue and asked to speak to the men. Stunned by this unexpected visit, Gates turned the floor over to his commander.
In his address to these men, Washington gently chided those present for their thoughts of rebellion. He expected them “to express your utmost horror and detestation of the Man who wishes, under any specious pretenses, 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.” He also asked them to “place a full confidence in the purity of the intentions of Congress.”
Though these words undoubtedly swayed some of the men, Washington saw that the respect once commonly given to him was absent. What happened next, however, completely broke that ugly mood and the mutiny. Wishing to read a letter from Congress to the assembly, Washington fumbled for a moment in his pockets, then pulled out a pair of glasses. “Gentlemen,” he said, “you will permit me to put on my spectacles, for I have not only grown gray but almost blind in service of my country.”
Spectacles were rare in Washington's day. Lotus_studio/Shutterstock
Glasses were a rarity in that age, and few of the men had ever seen their commander wearing them. That sign of aging and sacrifice and his accompanying words brought many of those present to tears. Washington departed immediately after reading the letter, leaving his listeners to vote overwhelmingly for his proposal of moderation and patience. Soon after word of this incident reached Philadelphia, the Confederation Congress set up a plan to pay the soldiers their wages.
Washington’s address set a precedent for civilian control over the military. Much more importantly, by demonstrating the character that his troops had long associated with him, he saved the budding republic from the disaster of civil war or dictatorship.
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Jeff Minick
Author
Jeff Minick has four children and a growing platoon of grandchildren. For 20 years, he taught history, literature, and Latin to seminars of homeschooling students in Asheville, N.C. He is the author of two novels, “Amanda Bell” and “Dust on Their Wings,” and two works of nonfiction, “Learning as I Go” and “Movies Make the Man.” Today, he lives and writes in Front Royal, Va.
