The man who would not be king: at the end of the War for Independence, George Washington foiled a military junta's plan to establish a dictatorship in the United States.

It was the end of 1782 and the War for Independence was all but over, but the details of the official peace treaty had not yet been hammered out between the American delegation (John Jay, Benjamin Franklin, and John Adams) and their British counterpart (David Hartley). The peace was uneasy, however, as British troops remained stationed in New York and various western outposts and American troops were ordered not to stand down until the British abandoned their posts. The lack of martial duties engendered boredom among the soldiers, fresh from victory over a tyrant. From this milieu sprang the plan for a coup d'etat labeled by historians as the Newburgh Conspiracy.

The Newburgh Conspiracy, named for the town in New York where the Continental Army was camped, was not the first revolt of soldiers experienced by the American military. There were insurrections in Connecticut in 1780 and in New Jersey and Pennsylvania in 1781. However, the Newburgh Conspiracy was the first mutiny headed by a cabal of officers. This mutiny was fomented by congressional inability to raise money from the states for the payment of the army's payroll. Under the Articles of Confederation, the Congress had no authority to compel states to comply with its resolutions. This impotence brought Congress to the brink of bankruptcy and was the impetus behind the mounting hostility and dissatisfaction among the ranks of American soldiers.

This sort of heedless ineptitude on the part of the government placed these honorable veterans in danger of returning home, not to parades, but to debtors' prisons. These troops were not lazy ne'er-do-wells intent on not paying their debts; they were instead citizen-soldiers, the noble but ragged and battle-hardened veterans who had endured the winter and attendant deprivations of Valley Forge and numerous bloody battles waged successfully on behalf of their fellow Americans against the world's mightiest military power. These were heroic men with a legitimate grievance, bent on satisfaction. The situation was ripe for conniving and power-hungry officers to use the army's frustration for their own vainglorious end of wrenching control of the government from the lawfully elected representatives in Congress. They would use enmity, fear, and deceit to accomplish these seditious goals and, as they figured it, General George Washington would play along or he would be dealt with accordingly.

In 1782, this frustration with the government and the clamor for promised remuneration led Colonel Louis Nicola of Pennsylvania to send a missive to General George Washington, urging him to recognize the failure of republican principles to provide for the country, suggesting that the best solution to the current climate of chaos would be the ascension of General Washington to the throne of an American monarchy. Nicola pleaded with Washington and asserted that such an act was the last hope to restore order to the country and assured Washington that his soldiers would gladly hand him the crown. This letter, although penned by Nicola, was probably formulated by a junta of officers whose membership is unknown to history.

Hero in the Classical Mode

A lesser man would have succumbed to the temptation offered by this letter--but not George Washington. Though he had rightly earned the admiration of his countrymen, his unimpeachable character would never permit him to rule over others. To the contrary, like Cincinnatus of ancient Rome, he had absolutely no love of power.

Cincinnatus, whose full name was Lucius Quinctius Cincinnatus, served as consul in the year 460 B.C. According to the Oxford Classical Dictionary, "when a Roman army ... was besieged by the Aequi on Mt. Algidus, Cincinnatus was called from the plough and appointed dictator. Within fifteen days he assembled an army, defeated the Aequi, triumphed, laid down his office, and returned to his ploughing." This story is told by Roman historian Livy and by the famed orator Cicero. The story is always used as an example of self-discipline and disinterested patriotism, both supreme Roman virtues, and both are virtues possessed sans pareil by George Washington.

George Washington was a man like no other. His athletic prowess was renowned. So universal was Washington's reputation as a splendid horseman and an impressive physical specimen, that many of his contemporaries called him "the centaur." At 47 years old (late middle age for the day) he wrestled and bested six large men in consecutive matches. Although the truth of Washington's toss of a coin across the Delaware is disputable, there is verifiable proof of his having thrown a coin 250 feet into the air. At one point in the War for Independence, General Washington broke up a fight between soldiers by jumping a fence and grabbing the rascals and shaking them back to their senses--all this while mounted! There is no doubt that in terms of physical and moral strength, courage and willingness to sacrifice personal comfort for the good of his nation, George Washington stood head and shoulders above his fellows. He was the prototypical "father of his country," and he is certainly worthy of the moniker "the indispensable man." Yet his character could never have permitted him to see himself as "the indispensable man"--or as superior to his fellow citizens.

And so Washington's reply to Nicola's letter was stern and clear: he would never assent to such an offer, and he was "astonished" by the request that he become a monarch, and must "with abhorrence" reprehend its author "with severity." Although he sympathized with the army's situation and loathed the disgraceful behavior of Congress with regard to payment of salaries (no one had worked harder than Washington to alter the management of congressional affairs in regard to their mistreatment of the military), he regarded any unconstitutional or unrepublican scheme to rectify the situation unthinkable and absolutely contrary to the principles of liberty for which the soldiers themselves had demonstrated in their victory over the despotic rule of a monarch.

Incidentally, Nicola was a true admirer of General Washington. Deeply hurt by Washington's rebuke, Nicola wrote an emotional and humble apology and paid to have it published in several newspapers for three days in a row.

Nicola's monarchical overture to Washington was only one indication of the frustration rampant among the corps of officers. The army was further provoked to anger by proposals in several state legislatures to disband the Continental Army and, by implication, discharge themselves of the burden of making good on promises of payment of a salary to the soldiers and of a half-pay lifetime pension and reenlistment bonuses made in 1780 by Congress. The expediency of war spurred a reluctant Congress to make these promises, but it was unwilling and constitutionally unable to keep them in the peace that followed the war.

Incredibly, debtor's prisons awaited retiring officers because of their magnanimous sacrifice of personal financial management during the War for Independence and the systematic and repeated breaking of illusory promises of back pay on the part of state and national legislatures. Washington wisely feared that an exasperated corps of officers might vacate the position they had traditionally occupied between mutinous soldiers and the civil government and that the result would be a bloody civil war. Washington's comprehensive knowledge of the histories of the ancient republics of Athens and Rome taught him that the inevitable result of such a violent revolt would be a disdainful tyranny of armed despots that would not be removed but through the shedding of much blood. Such a prospect prompted Washington and other loyal officers to pen a letter to Congress pleading their cause. It was delivered to Philadelphia in December of 1782 by a delegation of officers.

Many notable members of Congress--among them Hamilton, Robert Morris, Gouverneur Morris, and James Wilson--agreed with the arguments set forth in the letter and encouraged the committee of officers to lobby other members of Congress and convince them of the urgency of the situation. The officers and their Federalist allies warned Congress that if the army's demands were not met, there would almost certainly be a mutiny of officers that would indubitably spark a general revolt of the military. Unfortunately for Washington and those who sympathized with the plight of the military, the leader of the military envoy, Major General Henry Knox, failed to provide timely evidence of the disintegration of morale to key members of Congress. This mistake--combined with reluctance by state governments to fund any sort of pension for soldiers, the prospect of official peace, and the nearly universal distrust of a "standing army"--resulted in congressional equivocation and ultimate failure to take any corrective action.

This incident only strengthened the resolve of those determined to remove anyone they assumed was opposed to their cause. These rebellious officers knew they had no chance of convincing Washington to join their surreptitious combination so they focused their campaign of persuasion on Henry Knox. Although seen as potentially more sympathetic than Washington to the designs of the conspirators, Knox adamantly rejected the overture and firmly reasserted his belief that any deprivation suffered by the army was preferable to suffering the dishonor of sedition.

The plotters would not be dissuaded from their malicious intent, despite Knox's refusal to join them. General Horatio Gates, infamous for his dislike of George Washington, gladly took leadership of the conspiracy by laying plans to remove Washington from his post and march on Congress, replacing it with a military leadership, with Gates at its head. To ensure the success of this coup, Gates contacted sympathetic civilians and attempted to persuade them to aid in the execution of his traitorous design.

Among the civilians contacted was Alexander Hamilton, one of the Federalists in Congress who zealously advocated the grant of broader coercive power to the national government. From the early days of the War for Independence, Hamilton recognized the handcuffs placed on congressional authority by the charter of the American union. But though Hamilton's devotion to the cause of an invigorated national government was strong, his devotion to his former commander was stronger, and he quickly informed Washington of the plot that was being shopped around Philadelphia by Gates and his civilian (read: congressional) confederates. Upon receipt of Hamilton's letter (and other letters from friends in Congress), General Washington initiated his own internal investigation of the matter, and what he discovered was a plot deeper, broader, and more nefarious than he ever suspected.

Horatio Gates Calls for a Coup

On March 10, 1783, an anonymous notice calling officers to a meeting to discuss the present predicament was distributed among the corps of officers at Newburgh. Gates, who undoubtedly either wrote or dictated the note, was informed by several civilian fellow travelers that the wheels of revolution were now in motion and that the time for action was imminent. The body of the notice promised justice and even went so far as to imply that Washington backed, albeit tacitly, the rumored plans devised to exact this justice. The letter's message was not subtle:

   If you have sense enough to discover
   and spirit to oppose tyranny, whatever
   garb it may assume, awake to your
   situation. If the present moment be
   lost, your threats hereafter will be as
   empty as your entreaties now. Appeal
   from the justice to the fears of government,
   and suspect the man who
   would advise to longer forbearance.

The Ides of March

Washington's horror that such a scheme was gaining adherents within and without the ranks of the armed services motivated him to act with amazing dispatch. First, he employed Knox and other allies within the army to keep him apprised of any further movements toward revolt inside the corps of officers. Second, he communicated his desire that the meeting be postponed for five days. This tactic was designed to afford him time sufficient to draft a communique to the body of officers. Finally, Washington occupied himself in the intervening days with drafting and perfecting a discourse to his army.

To Washington, this speech was critically important and would be the means of diffusing the proposed attack on Congress. The date proposed for delivery of the speech was the 15th of March, also known as the Ides of March. This date was likely chosen purposely by Washington because of its historic significance, a significance that would be understood by anyone with even a casual knowledge of the history of ancient Rome and the assassination of Julius Caesar masterminded by one of his former friends that occurred on that date some 1,800 years earlier. As we shall see, the words spoken by Cicero regarding that fateful day in 44 B.C., were true once again in 1783: "The Ides changed everything."

Under the direction of General Gates, the meeting commenced. The venue was a small structure called the Public Building, and it was filled to capacity. As Gates rose to speak to the assembly of officers, Washington quietly entered through a side door and requested permission to address his men. Stunned, Gates grudgingly acquiesced and ceded the floor to General Washington. The crowd was hostile, impatient, and prepared to reject any unsatisfactory remedy, even one from Washington himself, if it requested any further sacrifice or delay in accomplishing the goal of seeking recompense from the country it had recently liberated at the cost of blood and fortune.

Washington's Spectacle of Spectacles

Washington boldly began his momentous address by chastising the officers for violating military "propriety" including the anonymity (cowardice) of the organizers of this meeting. Washington continued by reminding his men of the code of honor by which a military man must live and how many among their ranks violated that code in a most vulgar manner. Major Samuel Shaw reports that at about this point in his address, General Washington reached into his pocket, retrieved his recently purchased spectacles and offered this now famous apology: "Gentlemen, you will permit me to put on my spectacles for I have grown not only gray, but almost blind in my country's service."

The point of this message plunged deeply into the hearts of the misled and misguided patriots in attendance, and tears flowed freely. There before them stood their bespectacled and still beloved commander. He had suffered, too, but like Cato, the renowned Roman hero so much admired by American republicans, he refused to sacrifice virtue and propriety on the altar of personal attainment.

Upon finishing his remarks, Washington exited hastily and in his wake all the flames of sedition were doused and resolutions were offered to reaffirm the congregation's dedication to the cause of a united America and its constitutional republican government. Here, as in countless other moments of equal gravity, the "indispensable man" once again proved his inestimable worth to the cause of American freedom. He, as all other soldiers, had suffered personal deprivations and debilitations, but he understood that the American cause was more than the cause of Washington, Gates, or any other man. It was truly the cause of liberty and republican principles.