Friday, July 31, 2009 11:02 PM CDT
USA's Yesterdays: Society of the Cincinnati: Ex-Army officers found a fraternity
By Hal Malehorn
It is commonly believed among schoolchildren — and among many history buffs, as well — that America’s Revolutionary War ended with the surrender of British forces at Yorktown in October 1781.
However, the truth of the matter is that the Revolutionary War continued for months afterward. In fact, as of that date, New York City, Charleston and Savannah still lay in British hands.
Moreover, the southern wing of the Continental Army was still battling Redcoats in North Carolina a month after Yorktown. And they continued fighting in South Carolina and Georgia the following year.
Meanwhile, the inactive northern wing of the Continental Army was quartered in Newburgh, N.Y., along the Hudson River.
Unhappily, this latter contingent was on the verge of mutiny. Indeed, an anonymous handbill called the “Newburgh Addresses” was being circulated among the officers in camp. This document called for disruptive military action to force the Continental Congress to complete its obligations.
After all, the army officers there (and their men) had not been paid for several years. And, the ineffectual Congress had made no commitment as to when such funds would be granted.
However, stunned by the near-mutiny, Congress hastily voted to provide five years’ pay, and proposed raising an impost (a tax on goods imported by the various states). Still, the success of that impost lay, once again, with the states, as all 13 of them had to approve it. And if such a unanimous consent were attained, it would for the first time give to Congress the right to tax.
It was during this rebellious turmoil that several generals and other high-ranking army officers discussed creating an organization that would serve several purposes: first (and most pressing), it would provide a united front to protect officer’s pecuniary interests; then, too, with the coming of the anticipated peace treaty, it would provide ex-officers a means of contact and friendship in the post-war years.
Beside that, the various state branches of the society would collect charitable funds to offer support to members, their widows and their orphans who had fallen upon hard times.
The idea of such an organization sprang from the minds of two generals: Henry Knox, George Washington’s commander of artillery; and Baron Von Steuben, the army’s Prussian drillmaster. By April 1783 Knox had produced an eight-page proposal called the “Institution.”
Knox planned a hereditary society that all officers who had served at least three years would be eligible to join. They would wear a badge of membership featuring a ribbon and an eagle. Membership would also be extended to French officers who had aided the patriot cause.
This fraternity would be called “The Society of the Cincinnati.”
The group’s ancient namesake, Cincinnatus, was a model of the selfless patriot. He was a one-time military leader living as an impoverished farmer near Rome in 458 B.C. when he was called upon by the Roman Senate to lead a war. The Senate granted him temporary dictatorial powers.
After the Roman army had won that war, Cincinnatus resigned his post and promptly returned to his plow. This was how Henry Knox saw his fellow-officers: as citizen-soldiers and loyal patriots — but still deserving pay.
As noble in this endeavor as the Society seemed destined to become, though, their beginnings were greeted in some quarters with considerable controversy — and some scorn.
For one thing, in addition to the Continental Congress, the Society of the Cincinnati would thus become the only other national organization. This fact led some critics to claim that the Cincinnati were trying either to supplant or supplement Congress itself.
Then, too, in those yet-fragile times, many Americans were wary of any political pressure group that was comprised exclusively of military personnel.
Furthermore, there were objections to the pomp associated with the society’s planned investitures, titles and decorations.
And, the fact that sons of officers, and subsequent male blood-line descendants over coming generations, would inherit memberships and trappings smacked too much of a new aristocracy. Such an eventuality was deemed incompatible with the new Republic presumably dedicated to equality.
To no one’s surprise, George Washington was elected the Society’s president-general (even though he had little to do with its organization). Washington would serve in that largely honorary capacity until his death.
As the membership numbers grew, so, too, did the criticisms. Some Americans perceived the Society as a new order of knighthood and a nascent nobility. Others feared it was a precursor to the establishment of a monarchy. Still others feared the influence of its French members in America’s political affairs.
An even greater concern was the likelihood of the Society as a nucleus of a standing army — in the minds of many, a useless and expensive turn of events.
Both Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson (neither of whom had seen military service) thought the Society was a bad idea. Franklin opined, “I hope they will content themselves with a life enjoyment of their little badge and riband, and let the distinction die with those who have merited it.”
Jefferson, in turn, was totally against the Society: “The Society is opposed to the Confederation, the Constitution, and the foundation of the natural equality of man,” he claimed.
Even George Washington, who rarely attended Society meetings otherwise, submitted a list of seven changes he recommended; the adoption of these would have effectively eviscerated the Society’s plan.
Undaunted, uniformed members of the Society helped to suppress Shays Rebellion in Massachusetts in 1786, and the Whiskey Rebellion in Pennsylvania in 1794.
In sum, the Society survived its shaky beginnings and, except for a period in the 19th century when membership dwindled, it has effectively served its members and the nation.
Indeed, the Society thrives today. While its charitable functions have been co-opted by private and public agencies, it has remained an organization of sociability and education. Headquartered in Washington, the Society operates museums, endows scholarships and publishes historical information.
After all, Henry Knox in 1783 chose as its motto “Esto perpetua” — “Be thou long-lasting.” And, for more than two centuries, the Society has done just that. There are even members of the Cincinnati in Cincinnati.
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