ary of finance, held this opinion, and did not believe
that the states could be brought to terms in any other way. His namesake
and assistant, Gouverneur Morris, held similar views, and gave
expression to them in February, 1783, in a letter to General Greene, who
was still commanding in South Carolina. When Greene received the letter,
he urged upon the legislature of that state, in most guarded and
moderate language, the paramount need of granting a revenue to Congress,
and hinted that the army would not be satisfied with anything less. The
assembly straightway flew into a rage. "No dictation by a Cromwell!"
shouted the members. South Carolina had consented to the five per cent.
impost, but now she revoked it, to show her independence, and Greene's
eyes were opened at once to the danger of the slightest appearance of
military intervention in civil affairs.

[Sidenote: The dangerous Newburgh address, March 11, 1783.]

At the same time a violent outbreak in the army at Newburgh was barely
prevented by the unfailing tact of Washington. A rumour went about the
camp that it was generally expected the army would not disband until the
question of pay should be settled, and that the public creditors looked
to them to make some such demonstration as would overawe the delinquent
states. General Gates had lately emerged from the retirement in which
he had been fain to hide himself after Camden, and had rejoined the army
where there was now such a field for intrigue. An odious aroma of
impotent malice clings about his memory on this last occasion on which
the historian needs to notice him. He plotted in secret with officers of
the staff and others. One of his staff, Major Armstrong, wrote an
anonymous appeal to the troops, and another, Colonel Barber, caused it
to be circulated about the camp. It named the next day for a meeting to
consider grievances. Its language was inflammatory. "My friends!" it
said, "after seven long years your suffering courage has conducted the
United States of America through a doubtful and bloody war; and peace
returns to bless--whom? A country willing to redress your wrongs,
cherish your worth, and reward your services? Or is it rather a country
that tramples upon your rights, disdains your cries, and insults your
distresses? ... If such be your treatment while the swords you wear are
necessary for the defence of America, what have you to expect when those
very swords, the instruments and companions of y