I am much at a loss to conceive what part of my conduct could have given encouragement to an address, which to me seems big with the greatest mischiefs, that can befall my country.  If I am not deceived in the knowledge of myself, you could not have found a person to whom your schemes are more disagreeable.  I must add, that no man possesses a more sincere wish to see ample justice done to the army than I do; and, as far as my powers and influence, in a constitutional way, extend, they shall be employed to the extent of my abilities to effect it, should there be any occasion.  Let me conjure you, then, if you have any regard for your country, concern for yourself or posterity, or respect for me, to banish these thoughts from your mind and never communicate, as from yourself to any one else, a sentiment of the like nature.[1]

[Footnote 1:  Sparks, 355.]

The turmoil of the army continued throughout the year and into the next.  The so-called “Newburgh Address” set forth the quarrel of the soldiers and Washington’s discreet reply.  On April 19, 1783, the eighth anniversary of the first fighting at Concord, a proclamation was issued to the American army announcing the official end of all hostilities.  In June Washington issued a circular letter to the Governors of the States, bidding them farewell and urging them to guard their precious country.  Many of the American troops were allowed to go home on furlough.  In company with Governor Clinton he went up the Hudson to Ticonderoga and then westward to Fort Schuyler.  Being invited by Congress, which was then sitting at Annapolis, he journeyed thither.  Before he left New York City arrangements were made for a formal farewell to his comrades in arms.  I quote the description of it from Chief Justice Marshall’s “Life of Washington”: 

This affecting interview took place on the 4th of December.  At noon, the principal officers of the army assembled at Frances’ tavern; soon after which, their beloved commander entered the room.  His emotions were too strong to be concealed.  Filling a glass, he turned to them and said, “with a heart full of love and gratitude, I now take leave of you; I most devoutly wish that your latter days may be as prosperous and happy, as your former ones have been glorious and honorable.”  Having drunk, he added, “I cannot come to each of you to take my leave, but shall be obliged to you, if each of you will come and take me by the hand.”  General Knox, being nearest, turned to him.  Incapable of utterance, Washington grasped his hand, and embraced him.  In the same affectionate manner, he took leave of each succeeding officer.  In every eye was the tear of dignified sensibility; and not a word was articulated to interrupt the majestic silence and the tenderness of the scene.  Leaving the room, he passed through the corps of light infantry, and walked to White hall, where a barge waited to convey him to Powles’ hook (Paulus Hook).  The whole company followed