The British finally evacuated New York City on 25 November 1783. General George Washington and New York Governor George Clinton rode into the city together, marking the end of nearly seven years of British occupation. Residents, returning refugees, and the army filled the streets in celebration.
When it came time for Washington to depart, he called his officers together at Fraunces Tavern to say farewell. Raising a glass of wine, he offered a heartfelt toast, wishing that their future years would be as happy and prosperous as their past had been honorable and glorious. Unable to approach each officer individually, Washington asked them to come to take him by the hand.
With that comment, General Henry Knox, Washington’s commander of artillery, who was standing next to him, turned to Washington, embraced him and kissed him on the cheek. The other officers followed the example and they all wept knowing, in all likelihood, that they would never see their beloved “father general” again.
Washington had one final official duty before returning home to Mount Vernon. On his way south, he stopped in Annapolis, Maryland, where Congress was meeting, to formally surrender his commission. On Monday, 22 December, Congress honored Washington with a dinner at Mann’s Tavern attended by between 200 and 300 guests. After the obligatory thirteen toasts, Washington made a final additional toast. “Competent powers to Congress for general purposes.” That evening Governor William Paca of Maryland hosted a ball at the statehouse. Delaware delegate to Congress James Tilton observed that, “The General danced every set, that all the ladies might have the pleasure of dancing with him, or as it has since been handsomely expressed, get a touch of him.”
The formal ceremony surrendering Washington’s commission was held on Tuesday at noon on 23 December 1783 in the Senate chamber of the Maryland statehouse in Annapolis. The event was immortalized by John Trumbull whose painting, completed in 1824, now hangs in the Rotunda of the U.S. Capitol.
Maryland delegate to Congress James McHenry, a former aide-de-camp to Washington, described the scene to his fiancée. “Today my love the General at a public audience made a deposit of his commission and in a very pathetic [that is, emotional] manner took leave of Congress. It was a Solemn and affecting spectacle; such an one as history does not present. The spectators all wept, and there was hardly a member of Congress who did not drop tears. The General’s hand which held the address shook as he read it. When he spoke of the officers who had composed his family, and recommended those who had continued in it to the present moment to the favorable notice of Congress he was obliged to support the paper with both hands. But when he commended the interests of his dearest country to almighty God, and those who had the superintendence of them to his holy keeping, his voice faultered and sunk, and the whole house felt his agitations. After the pause which was necessary for him to recover himself, he proceeded to say in the most penetrating manner, ‘Having now finished the work assigned me I retire from the great theater of action, and bidding an affectionate farewell to this august body under whose orders I have so long acted I here offer my commission and take my leave of all the employments of public life.’ So saying he drew out from his bosom his commission and delivered it up to the president of Congress. . . . This, [McHenry continued,] is only a sketch of the scene. But, were I to write you a long letter I could not convey to you the whole. So many circumstances crowded into view and gave rise to so many affecting emotions. The events of the revolution just accomplished—the new situation into which it had thrown the affairs of the world—the great man who had borne so conspicuous a figure in it, in the act of relinquishing all public employments to return to private life—the past—the present—the future—the manner—the occasion—all conspired to render it a spectacle inexpressibly solemn and affecting.”
The next day, Washington was finally home to spend his first Christmas at Mount Vernon in eight years. A month later, he wrote to Congress requesting the return of his commission “to have it deposited amongst my own Papers. It may serve my Grand Children some fifty or a hundred years hence for a theme to ruminate upon.” (Most officers when they retire usually submit a letter of resignation but retain their original commission.) On 29 January 1784, North Carolina delegate Hugh Williamson moved “that his late Commission be returned to General Washington in a neat gold box to be preserved among the archives of his family.” Today, the original commission is housed in the Library of Congress.
* This blog is taken from John P. Kaminski, George Washington, The Man of the Age (3rd ed., America’s Founders Series, Madison, Wisc., 2019).