ABSTRACT
The proclamation of peace with the external foe was the tocsin for the fray of domestic factions; released from the fear of a common danger, they flew at each other. Mad Anthony Wayne’s shot went wide of the mark. The profiteering patriots did not look down on the “brave fellows” whose endurance had secured their property from the avarice of a victorious foe; they were too completely absorbed in husbanding their ill-got gains to give a glance in their direction. Fed on new and fine ideas, and very little else, the brave fellows who had so satisfactorily finished the country’s fight were minded to keep going a little longer to insure their own right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Enraged by neglect and egged on by designing officers, the army threatened Congress with a hold-up to collect their back pay. Only their old Commander could reason with them. Patience yet a little longer, he pleaded, you who have endured the hardships of war with such heroic fortitude. Fumbling his notes short-sightedly, “You see,” he said, “I have not only grown gray in your service, but blind.” No other man in the country could counsel patience with so good a grace; force of example rather than precept carried the appeal across and ended the mutiny.
