The Legacy of 1783

By Hugh Sidey

The Presidency/ Hugh Sidey

In the Old Senate Chamber of the Annapolis State House last Friday, General George Washington, after nearly nine years as Commander in Chief of the Continental Army, resigned his military commission before Congress. It was an emotional moment. By voluntarily yielding martial authority, Washington authenticated the American experiment in democracy and citizen government.

Thomas Jefferson and James Monroe watched. The delegates there from the states kept their hats on to demonstrate civil ascendancy. Washington's farewell took about three minutes and the response from Thomas Mifflin, president of Congress, was just as brief. A snowstorm was on the way and Washington, his saddlebags packed with presents for the children at Mount Vernon, wanted to be home on Christmas Eve for the season of peace on earth. Seven years of war were over at last.

This was, of course, a re-enactment of what happened 200 years ago. It was painstakingly faithful, except that Roger Mudd was on hand to narrate the proceedings for public television. Washington was played by New York Actor Jan Leighton, a remarkable lookalike. Maryland's Governor William Paca was represented by Maryland's current Governor Harry Hughes, no personal resemblance intended.

The pageant was a fitting close for 1983, a year that in some ways was more of a bicentennial for the U.S. than 1976, which was so grandly celebrated. In 1783 John Adams, Benjamin Franklin and John Jay signed the Treaty of Paris, which they had negotiated in months of close bargaining. The treaty brought true peace and launched this nation as a recognized member of the global community.

For this entire year a band of treaty enthusiasts has traveled from Paris to San Francisco conducting small celebrations to remind as many people as possible about the legacy of 1783. None has been more dedicated than Joan Challinor, a Washington historian, who served as chairwoman of the National Committee for the Bicentennial of the Treaty of Paris. She appeared in Boston's Old North Church to talk to the faithful. She took a ride above Utah in a hot-air balloon dubbed The Treaty of Paris, the connection being that this is also the bicentennial of manned flight, an epic event that occurred in Paris and was witnessed by Benjamin Franklin. Challinor climbed to the daunting heights of the pulpit of St. Paul's Cathedral in London to inspire 2,000 British and U.S. citizens who are likewise determined, as Challinor said, "to rescue the Treaty of Paris from its undeserved obscurity."

As her long journey with the treaty winds down, Challinor believes that the message from that document and from the men who devised it has an eerie resonance at a time when we have grown weary of the threat of war, of arming and then arming more. "A recognition of the talents necessary for the work of peace and a rightful regard for the skills of international diplomacy seem a most appropriate commemoration of the Treaty of Paris," she says.

In 1783 the U.S., out of money and desire to fight, needed peace. The men in Paris understood that, and also understood the workings of the rest of the world. In a brilliant bit of negotiating, they produced a document that acknowledged U.S. independence and title to vast territories stretching to the Mississippi River without rupturing the special relationship between the people of the U.S. and the British Empire. "The fortunes of the new nation may have turned more on what they accomplished at the negotiating table than on all their other attainments," says Challinor. "We should put negotiators on an equal footing with our martial heroes, and diplomats should take their place beside generals and admirals in our pantheon. We should let the world know that we are about the work of peace as we were once about the work of war."

Citizen Washington, back home in Mount Vernon for Christmas, could not have said it better.