At noon on December 23rd, 1783, the Secretary of the Congress led General George Washington into the Senate chamber of the State House in Annapolis, and General Washington walked in to give away the greatest power any American had ever held.
He had held it for eight years.
As commander-in-chief of the Continental Army, he had kept a ragged, unpaid force together through defeat and retreat and the starving winters, and at the end of it he had done the impossible thing, beaten the foremost military power on earth and made a country.
There was no man in America more trusted and none more powerful— The soldier in the field were loyal to him in a way they had never been loyal to Congress that had failed year after year to pay them.
If George Washington had wanted to keep his sword, it is not clear who in America could have made him give it up.
And the temptation had been there and close.
In the last hard months of the war, with men unpaid and bitter, there had been officers who thought the army should turn on the government, and at least one who floated the idea that General Washington should make himself king.
He had refused all of it, coldly, every time.
But the road was open.
It was always open.
The thing that ended almost every revolution in history, the victorious general who keeps the power the fighting put in his hand, was there for the taking.
And every man in the country knew it and would have accepted it.
The pattern was very nearly a law of nature.
The general who wins the revolution inherits it.
Caesar did not give the legions back to the Senate.
He crossed the Rubicon with them and made himself dictator for life.
Cromwell won his Civil War and took the title of Lord Protector.
Down the whole long roll of men who had led armies to victory in popular causes, none had simply handed the power back and gone home.
George Washington did, on purpose, in public, in the plainest way he could find.
the Congress had assembled for the occasion in a small committee which had been scripted in advance, down to who would rise and who would stay seated.
At noon, the Secretary Charles Thompson brought the general in.
General Washington drew a parchment from his coat, his commission, the paper the Congress had handed him in 1775, making him commander of all its forces, and began to read a short speech giving it back.
And the most self-possessed man in America came apart a little as he read.
His hands shook, his voice dropped and caught.
One of the delegates in the room that day, James McHenry, wrote to the woman he would marry and tried to set down what he had seen.
At noon on December 23rd, 1783, the Secretary of the Congress led General George Washington into the Senate chamber of the State House in Annapolis, and General Washington walked in to give away the greatest power any American had ever held.
He had held it for eight years.
As commander-in-chief of the Continental Army, he had kept a ragged, unpaid force together through defeat and retreat and the starving winters, and at the end of it he had done the impossible thing, beaten the foremost military power on earth and made a country.
There was no man in America more trusted and none more powerful— The soldier in the field were loyal to him in a way they had never been loyal to Congress that had failed year after year to pay them.
If George Washington had wanted to keep his sword, it is not clear who in America could have made him give it up.
And the temptation had been there and close.
In the last hard months of the war, with men unpaid and bitter, there had been officers who thought the army should turn on the government, and at least one who floated the idea that General Washington should make himself king.
He had refused all of it, coldly, every time.
But the road was open.
It was always open.
The thing that ended almost every revolution in history, the victorious general who keeps the power the fighting put in his hand, was there for the taking.
And every man in the country knew it and would have accepted it.
The pattern was very nearly a law of nature.
The general who wins the revolution inherits it.
Caesar did not give the legions back to the Senate.
He crossed the Rubicon with them and made himself dictator for life.
Cromwell won his Civil War and took the title of Lord Protector.
Down the whole long roll of men who had led armies to victory in popular causes, none had simply handed the power back and gone home.
George Washington did, on purpose, in public, in the plainest way he could find.
the Congress had assembled for the occasion in a small committee which had been scripted in advance, down to who would rise and who would stay seated.
At noon, the Secretary Charles Thompson brought the general in.
General Washington drew a parchment from his coat, his commission, the paper the Congress had handed him in 1775, making him commander of all its forces, and began to read a short speech giving it back.
And the most self-possessed man in America came apart a little as he read.
His hands shook, his voice dropped and caught.
One of the delegates in the room that day, James McHenry, wrote to the woman he would marry and tried to set down what he had seen.
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