Henry Knox and John André: An Unlikely Friendship

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back guest historian Evan Portman

It’s often said that politics makes strange bedfellows, but that’s also true of war. On a blistering December night in 1775, Col. Henry Knox found himself sharing a cabin with the unlikeliest of people: the British officer John André.

Henry Knox

Knox was on his way to retrieve captured artillery at Fort Ticonderoga alongside his brother, William. The pair traveled up the Hudson River, facing heavy winds and harsh winter weather along the way. On December 4, a snowstorm hit just as Knox and his brother reached Fort George at the south end of Lake George, about 40 miles from Ticonderoga. Colonel Knox decided to spend the night there and sail up the lake to Fort Ticonderoga the following day.[1]

Knox received a one-room log cabin for the night, which, for lack of proper quarters, he shared with a captured British lieutenant named John André. André had surrendered during the American siege of Fort Saint-Jean in November 1775 and was being transported as a prisoner of war to Lancaster, Pennsylvania. The chance encounter sparked a brief companionship between the two men. Knox and André were the same age and shared a variety of intellectual pursuits, including a deep passion for art and literature. Both had also given up their respective trades to pursue a military career.[2]

However, Knox was careful not to betray the secrecy of his mission. The colonel, who was dressed in civilian clothes, probably did not reveal his military affiliation as a chief lieutenant of George Washington. Nonetheless, the two bedfellows passed the night by the firelight discussing their common interests. André charmed Knox, as he did most men who made his acquaintance, and the British officer’s intelligence and charisma made left a lasting impression on the artilleryman. Alexander Hamilton later recalled that “there was something singularly interesting in the character and fortunes of André” who “united a peculiar elegance of mind and manners, and the advantage of a pleasing person.”[3] The two men cordially parted ways the following day, as Knox made his way to Fort Ticonderoga and André departed for Lancaster.[4]

John André

Five years later Knox and André met again under much different circumstances. By 1780, André had risen to the rank of major and taken charge of the British spy network. It was in this role that the young officer found himself caught up in one of the great dramas of American history: the treachery of Benedict Arnold. André helped facilitate Arnold’s betrayal and eventual defection to the British army, but he was captured by American sentries in the process. Washington appointed a tribunal of 14 Continental Army officers to try André. Among them was Brig. Gen. Henry Knox.

The tribunal unanimously found André guilty of espionage and therefore ordered his death by hanging—the typical form of execution spy in the eighteenth century. Knox did not record his feelings on the matter, and André did not relate whether he recognized the portly artilleryman with whom he had once shared a cabin. Regardless, any companionship between the two men had evaporated as Knox signed André’s death warrant alongside his Continental comrades.[5]

Despite his tragic circumstances, André maintained marked civility even in the face of his execution. Knox looked on as André approached the gallows and declared, “I have said all I have to say before, and have only to request the gentlemen present to bear testimony that I met death as a brave man.”[6] With that, the cart moved out from under André’s feet, and Knox watched as his one-time companion hung.

Despite his role in André’s untimely death, Knox looked back fondly upon his one-time companion. James Thacher, who was stationed at West Point in 1780 and witnessed André’s trial, recalled that Knox “often afterward expressed the most sincere regret, that he was called by duty, to act on the tribunal that pronounced his condemnation.”[7] Though André’s life ended that October day, Knox served in the Continental army with distinction for the rest of the war. However, he never forgot his chance encounter with the charming British officer on that cold, winter night in 1775.

Fort George

[1] Mark Puls, Henry Knox: Visionary General of the American Revolution (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2008), 37.

[2] Puls, Henry Knox, 37; Noah Brooks, Henry Knox: A Soldier of the Revolution, Major-General in the Continental Army, and Washington’s Chief of Artillery (New York: Cosimo, Inc., 2007), 42.

[3] Alexander Hamilton to Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens, 11 October 1780, The Papers of Alexander Hamilton, vol. 2, 1779–1781, ed. Harold C. Syrett, (New York: Columbia University Press, 1961), 460.

[4] Puls, Henry Knox, 37-38; Winthrop Sargent, Life and Career of Major John André (Boston: Ticknor and Fields, 1861), 85.

[5] Puls, Henry Knox, 149.

[6] Puls, Henry Knox, 150.

[7] James Thacher, Military Journal During the American Revolutionary War, 1775-1783 (Boston: Richardson and Lord, 1823), 584.

The Battle of Quebec

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes guest historian Andrew J. Lucien. Brief bio of Andrew follows the post.

Death of General Richard Montgomery

Bunker Hill, Valley Forge, Yorktown, July 4, George Washington. These are the most common images that come to mind when the American Revolution is mentioned by most people. The collective unconscious of America has become steeped in the imagery of glorious American victories to win our independence from the superpower of the time. However, what many are unaware of is the unusual campaign that took place from 1775 to 1776, in an attempt to gain the support of Canada in our quest for independence. This campaign featured several battles, with the key one being the Battle of Quebec. This marked a significant turning point in the campaign and the war as a whole.

In 1775, the fate of the impending schism between Britain and its North American colonies was all but sealed. The colonial fervor had reached a climax at the Battles of Lexington and Concord in the spring of 1775, setting the mother country and its colony down a path of armed conflict. As tensions rose in 1775, Ethan Allan, along with Benedict Arnold, captured the British fort at Ticonderoga in early May, resulting in much-needed guns for the colonials. With successful action undertaken in the northern reaches of New York state, the Continental Congress approved plans to invade Canada. Intelligence led the patriots to believe that there were fewer than 700 British soldiers stationed in the Canadian territory and that the popular sentiment in the territory was in favor of rebellion, and that they, too, might take up arms against the British Crown.

By late September, Ethan Allan unsuccessfully attempted to capture Montreal. Near the same time, Benedict Arnold began to lead a force of around 1,100 men from Boston on an enterprise aimed at aiding in the capture of Canada (only about 600 would reach their destination). These men would eventually join forces with Richard Montgomery’s force around Quebec in December of 1775, “to finish the Glorious work you begun,” to quote George Washington. By the time Arnold’s men reached Canada, they were “in a very weak condition.” Montgomery’s force was moving north from Lake Champlain. His men captured Fort Chambly and Fort St. Johns. Following these captures, the force under Montgomery advanced on Montreal. The British governor, Guy Carlton, took approximately 150 men with him from Montreal to Quebec, believing it to be a more important and defensible position. Montreal was easily captured on the 13th. Montgomery did not rest long after capturing the fort, leaving a small garrison in Montreal and heading to join forces with Arnold’s men at Point aux Trembles. Montgomery, “…was anxious, after the capture of Chamblee, St. Johns and Montreal, to add Quebec, as a prime trophy to the laurels already won.”

With the combined force of Montgomery and Arnold now outside of Quebec, Montgomery sent Carlton multiple messages to surrender, which were all rejected. Upon hearing the refutation of his final offer, Montgomery was supposed to have said he would “dine in Quebec or Hell at Christmas.” Finally, with all other options seemingly exhausted, it was planned to forcibly take the city by sending Arnold’s corps to assault the lower town via St. Roque. Montgomery was to attack the lower town via Pres-de-Ville, near Cape Diamond. There was to be a fient east of St. John’s Gate under Colonel Livingston and one at Cape Diamond under Major Brown. The ultimate goal was to meet in the lower town, then storm the upper town.

Around midnight as the 31st began, clouds began to fill the sky and snow began to fall. This was a signal to the Americans to begin preparing for an assault, using the snowstorm as cover. By 2 a.m., the American troops began their movements. At about 4 a.m., Captain Malcolm Fraser saw flashes and lights on the Heights of Abraham. Fraser suspected that the lights were a sign of the American troops’ movement and ordered his guards to arm. The British began to play their drums and ring their bells to alert the men of Quebec to prepare for the city’s defense. The Americans launched two rockets to signal the beginning of their assault. With the rockets illuminating the early morning sky, the rebels began to fire their muskets into the British line. With the darkness of the morning still upon the soldiers, the British were unable to see their opponents, except when their muskets would flash and illuminate their heads. They used the flash of the muskets to guide their return volleys. The Americans began to launch artillery into Quebec from St. Roque. When Arnold saw the rockets in the morning sky, he led about 600 men from St. Roque to attack the British works at Saut-au-Matelot. Montgomery led his force of about 300 men to attack the works at Pres-de-Ville. Montgomery believed that this location was ripe for an escalade.

Arnold and the rest of his column advanced along the waterfront through St. Roque. The British sailors stationed there rained fire down on the Americans from atop the ramparts. The Americans “could see nothing but the blaze from the muzzles of their muskets.” As the Americans pressed forward, they lost the cover of the houses. Arnold was hit in the leg by enemy fire near the first barricade, and he was taken from the field by two men. Arnold tried to rally his men as he was taken away. Despite the setback, the Americans under Daniel Morgan pressed forward and used their ladders to scale and capture the first barricade at Saut-au-Matelot, along with 30 British troops. Here, the Americans found their muskets useless due to the snow. Many colonial troops resorted to confiscating British muskets. The Americans continued about 250-300 yards further to attempt to capture the second barrier, where they met opposition from the British. The Americans, on a narrow street, moved against the British, who had their own strong defenses, including a 12-foot-high barrier, cannons, and two lines of soldiers ready to repulse the attacking Americans. The British fired down on the Americans from the tops of the buildings. The colonial troops attempted to climb the barrier but were forced back by the British inside with their bayonets fixed. They then fired from under the cover of the houses, allowing the British to see them only as they moved from house to house. The attackers contemplated retreating; however, they tarried, ultimately a dire mistake. Carleton, aware of the developing assault, men to attack the flank of the Americans. With the Americans now flanked and facing stiff opposition in front, they surrendered to the British force.

Montgomery and his men suffered a far more deadly fate. As his column approached Pres-de-Ville, Captain Barnsfair had his men next to their guns and at the ready when the Americans arrived. The British had erected a barrier here with a battery. The Americans advanced within 50 yards of the British guns and halted, then resumed their advance, likely because they believed the soldiers were not on guard. Barnsfair “declared he would not fire till he was sure of doing execution, and… waited till the enemy came within… about thirty yards’ distance” and then called out, “fire!” “Shrieks and groans followed the discharge.” The fire of canister, grapeshot, and musketfire was deadly. When the fire stopped, the field of battle was clear with no rebels left standing on the field. Montogemery was one of the casualties of the action, found lying on his back with his arm still in the air. Seeing the folly of another assault, the remaining men retreated. An officer of Carlton’s declared the battle “a glorious day for us, and as compleat a little victory as was ever gained.” When the dust settled, the Americans suffered about 50 killed, 34 wounded, and 431 captured or missing, while the British defenders lost only 5 killed and 14 wounded. The fighting had lasted only around 4 hours.

Bibliography:

“An Account of the Assault on Quebec, 1775,” The Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography 14, no. 1 (1890): 47–63.

Blockade of Quebec in 1775–1776 by the American Revolutionists (les Bastonnais). Historical event, Quebec City, 1775–1776.

Caldwell, Henry. The Invasion of Canada in 1775. Quebec: Literary and Historical Society of Quebec, [microform].

Hatch, Robert McConnell. Thrust for Canada: The American Attempt on Quebec in 1775–1776. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1979.

Henry, John Joseph. Account of Arnold’s Campaign Against Quebec, and of the Hardships and Sufferings of That Band of Heroes Who Traversed the Wilderness of Maine from Cambridge to the St. Lawrence, in the Autumn of 1775. Albany: Joel Munsell, 1877.

Bio:

Andrew Lucien is a social studies curriculum director at the Cleveland Metropolitan School District, host of The Civil War Center podcast, and founder of thecivilwarcenter.com. He has written extensively on the Civil War and Revolutionary War.

Robert Morris: Founding Father and Revolutionary Financier

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back guest historian Michael Aubrecht

To call Robert Morris “a political renaissance man” would be an understatement. He was vice president of the Pennsylvania Committee of Safety (1775–76) and was a member of the Continental Congress (1775–78) as well as a member of the Pennsylvania legislature (1778–79, 1780–81, 1785–86). Morris practically controlled the financial operations of the Revolutionary War from 1776 to 1783. He was a delegate to the Constitutional Convention (1787) and served in the U.S. Senate (1789–95). Perhaps most impressive is the fact that he signed the Declaration of Independence and the Articles of Confederation and later signed the U.S. Constitution.

At the start of the war Robert Morris was one of the wealthiest men in the colonies, but he would go on to claim bankruptcy after some catastrophic decisions. To fully appreciate the contributions of Robert Morris we must go back and examine him from the beginning.

Robert Morris

Robert Morris was born on January 31, 1734, in Liverpool, England, the son of Robert Morris, Sr., and Elizabeth Murphet Morris. His mother died when he was only two and he was raised by his grandmother. Morris’ father immigrated to the colonies in 1700, settled in Maryland and in 1738 he began a successful career working for Foster, Cunliffe and Sons of Liverpool. His job was to purchase and ship tobacco back to England. Morris Sr. was known for his ingenuity, and he was the creator of the tobacco inspection law. He was also regarded as an inventive merchant and was the first to keep his accounts in money rather than in gallons, pounds, or yards.

In 1750 tragedy would once again strike the Morris family. In July Morris Sr. hosted a dinner party aboard one of the company’s ships. As he prepared to depart a farewell salute was fired from the ship’s cannon and wadding from the shot burst through the side of the boat and severely injured him. He died a few days later of blood poisoning on July 12, 1750. The tragedy had a terrible effect on Morris who became an orphan at the age of 16. Looking for a change he left Maryland for Philadelphia in 1748. He was taken under the wing of his father’s friend, Mr. Greenway, who filled the gap left by the death of Morris’ father. Raised with a tremendous work ethic Morris flourished as a clerk at the merchant firm of Charles Willing & Co. 

Following in his father’s footsteps Morris was also gifted with successful ingenuity. In his twenties he took his earnings and joined a few friends in establishing the London Coffee House. (Today the Philadelphia Stock Exchange claims the coffee house as its origin.) Morris was sent as a ship’s captain on a trading mission to Jamaica during the Seven Years War (1756-1763). He was captured by a group of French Privateers but managed to escape to Cuba where he remained until an American ship arrived in Havana. Only then was he able to secure safe passage back to Philadelphia. 

Shortly after Morris’ return to the colonies Willing retired and handed the firm over to his son Thomas who offered him a partnership. This resulted in the formation of Willing, Morris & Co. The firm boasted three ships that were dispatched to the West Indies and England importing British cargo and exporting American goods. This relationship lasted for over 40 years and was immensely successful. At one point, Morris was ranked by the Encyclopedia of American Wealth, along with Charles Carroll of Carrollton, as the two wealthiest signers of the Declaration of Independence.

As influential merchants, Morris and Willing disagreed with the changes in tax policy. In 1765, the Stamp Act was passed and was met with massive resistance. Morris was at the forefront and led protests in the streets. His fervor was so striking that he convinced the stamp collector to suspend his post and return the stamps back to their origin. The tax collector stated that if he had not complied, he feared his house would have been torn down “brick by brick.” In 1769, the partners organized the first non-importation agreement, which forever ended the slave trade in the Philadelphia region.

Morris married Mary White on March 2, 1769, and they had seven children. In 1770, he bought an eighty-acre farm on the eastern bank of the Schuylkill River where he built a home he named “The Hills.” Due to his growing reputation Morris was asked to be a warden of the port of Philadelphia. Showing his tenacity, he convinced the captain of a tea ship to return to England in 1775.

Later on, Morris was appointed to the Model Treaty Committee following Richard Henry Lee’s resolution for independence on June 7, 1776. The resulting treaty projected international relations based on free trade and not political alliance. The treaty was eventually taken to Paris by Benjamin Franklin who transformed it into the Treaty of Alliance which was made possible by the Continental Army’s victory at Yorktown in 1781. 

Scholars disagree as to whether Morris was present on July 4 when the Declaration of Independence was approved. But when it came time to sign the Declaration on August 2 he did so. Morris boldly stated that it was “the duty of every individual to act his part in whatever station his country may call him to in hours of difficulty, danger and distress.” Until peace was achieved in 1783, Morris performed services in support of the war. His efforts earned him the moniker of “Financier of the Revolution.”

Michael is the author of “The Letters of Robert Morris: Founding Father and Revolutionary Financier.

Was the Battle of Point Pleasant the First Battle of the Revolution?

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back guest historian Evan Portman

By the time Ralph Waldo Emerson immortalized the “shot heard round the world” in his 1836 “Concord Hymn”, the battles of Lexington and Concord had already achieved fame as the first engagement of the Revolutionary War. However, in the early twentieth century one West Virginia historian began to argue that the true “shot heard round the world” had occurred six months earlier on October 10, 1774, at the battle of Point Pleasant.

The battle was the culmination of Lord Dunmore’s War, a five-month campaign against the Shawnee and Mingo tribes in an effort to quell the violence along the Ohio frontier.[1] Virginia settlers had begun moving into the Ohio Country following the Treaty of Fort Stanwix, in which the Iroquois Confederacy ceded the territories of present-day Kentucky and West Virginia to the Colony of Virginia. However, the Shawnee had not been consulted regarding the treaty and claimed ancestral hunting rights to the region, responding with violent raids along the frontier to reclaim their land.[2] Virginia Colonial Governor John Murray, 4th Earl of Dunmore sanctioned the colonial militia to wage a campaign against the Native Americans after white settlers began reacting violently, themselves.[3]

Continue reading “Was the Battle of Point Pleasant the First Battle of the Revolution?”

Liberty’s Words Ringing Hollow: Prince Whipple’s 1779 Petition for Freedom in New Hampshire

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes guest historian Dr Lawrence Howard

Many people have not been taught that slavery was practiced in early America’s northern colonies, later states. Though fewer people were enslaved in the north than in the south, where the plantation economy was highly reliant on enslaved labor, people were also held in bondage in the north. Also not often taught is the contribution such enslaved persons made to the success of America’s Founding, though recent scholarship seeks to amend this. This article explores the 1779 Petition to the New Hampshire Government, written by Prince Whipple – born in Africa in 1750 and purchased by William Whipple of Portsmouth, New Hampshire at a young age. In this petition, twenty black men requested emancipation from slavery. The African American petitioners echoed some of the same political ideas that the delegates to the Second Continental Congress had staked their own lives on just three years earlier in the Declaration of Independence, announcing American political independence from Britain.

Moffatt-Ladd House, Portsmouth, NH, Author’s photo.

Continue reading “Liberty’s Words Ringing Hollow: Prince Whipple’s 1779 Petition for Freedom in New Hampshire”

Early Preservation at Fort Ticonderoga

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back guest historian Evan Portman

Most historians credit Ann Pamela Cunningham with kickstarting the historic preservation movement with her purchase of Mount Vernon in 1858. However, preservation of historic sites began long before the Mount Vernon Ladies’ Association. In fact, the storied walls of Fort Ticonderoga became the object of a preservation movement 38 years before the Ladies’ Association purchased George Washington’s ancestral home.

Fort Ticonderoga—known as the Gibraltar of North America—played an integral role in both the French and Indian War and the American Revolution. The fort was originally constructed by the French in 1755 on a portage known to the Iroquois as ticonderoga, meaning a “land between two waters.” Fort Carillon, as it was known to the French, stood strategically between Lake Champlain and Lake George, thereby controlling both the Hudson River Valley and St. Lawrence River Valley. On July 8, 1758, an outnumbered French army successfully defended the fort against British forces in the bloodiest battle of the French and Indian War.[1] However, the following year British General Jeffery Amherst captured the fort and renamed it Fort Ticonderoga.[2]

By the American Revolution, the fort had fallen into disrepair but was still guarded by a small British garrison. In 1775, it was the scene of one of the most famous dramas in American history. On May 10, Col. Benedict Arnold and Col. Ethan Allen led a combined force of the Green Mountain Boys and Massachusetts and Connecticut militiamen across Lake Champlain to capture the fort. “Come out you old Rat!” Allen famously cried to the fort’s commander, Capt. William Delaplace, and demanded he surrender the garrison “in the name of the Great Jehovah and the Continental Congress.”[3] Delaplace agreed, and Ticonderoga quickly fell into American hands.

Continue reading “Early Preservation at Fort Ticonderoga”

William Billings: Patriot, composer, leather-tanner

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes guest historian David Stowe.

William Billings looked like an oaf, wrote poetry, snuffed small fistfuls of tobacco in company, taught himself to write music, was a street-cleaner, was an artist.

-David McKay and Richard Crawford, William Billings of Boston (1980)

I knew I wanted to write a book about William Billings. I just wasn’t sure which kind would be possible. I’ve been writing about the quirky Boston composer since my second book, How Sweet the Sound (2004) and always find more to say about him. His colorful adaptation of a Hebrew psalm to the American Revolutionary cause helped fuel my interest in what became Song of Exile: The Enduring Mystery of Psalm 137 (2016).

So how did I come to write a historical novel about him? 

Partly because I came to the end of my sources and didn’t have nearly enough to tell the story I thought he deserved. There were many parts of Billings’s experience, including the most important ones, I’d never have access to. But his life was too rich and interesting to leave alone. So I was left with no choice but to make it up.

There were some other, possibly better reasons. One had to do with audience. 

Continue reading “William Billings: Patriot, composer, leather-tanner”

An Englishman’s Journal of the Revolutionary War: The Journals of Nicholas Cresswell 1774-1777

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes guest historian Kenneth Bancroft

“Nothing but War is talked of…This cannot be redressing grievances, it is open rebellion…1

250 years ago on October 20, 1775 a 25 year old Englishman wrote these words in Alexandria, Virginia, noting that “everything is in confusion…soon they will declare Independence.”2.Nicholas Cresswell had arrived in America a year and a half prior to that entry in a journal that he kept to chronicle his venture to “shape his course in the world” and set up a new life inVirginia, “as I like the situation of that Colony the best.”3 He was aware of grumblings from colonials, but his focus was on land and his adventure had him traveling and trading with the Native Americans in the Ohio country and experiencing the slave culture in the colonies, especially the horrific sugar plantations in Barbados.

But what his journal is most known for is his observations and critique of the revolutionary world from Virginia to New York in 1774 through 1777. Cresswell’s misfortune, among others, was that he arrived in America seeking opportunity just as the Imperial Crisis over the Intolerable Acts had began. News of, and reaction to the closure of the port of Boston frequently disrupted his schemes and social life. As an Englishman still loyal to the Crown, his Revolutionary War journal offers a unique outsider look at the costs of the conflict in the country and towns as opposed to the more common tomes of soldier life.

“No prospect of getting home this winter, as I am suspected of being a Spy.”4 Cresswell’s tenure in America was tenuous. Unsuccessful in trying to establish himself with land and basically broke, he blamed his misfortune on the “Liberty Mad”5 political climate that considered him a ‘Tory’ who would not commit to the cause. His penchant for getting into drunken political arguments did not help and kept getting him in trouble with local Committees of Safety.

“Am determined to make my escape the first opportunity.”6 By that point Cresswell knew it was time to forgo his quest and return to England, but the question was how, especially with non- importation measures and the war closing ports. What followed next for Cresswell was an amazing account of encounters with revolutionary notables and locations such as Thomas Jefferson, Patrick Henry, and British General Howe in Philadelphia, Williamsburg, and New York respectively. Ultimately, Cresswell was able to secure passage back to England where he reluctantly picked up where he left off by order of his father to “shear or bind corn.”7

1 Nicholas Cresswell, The Journals of Nicholas Cresswell, 1774-1777, (North Charleston, South Carolina: reprinted 2024), 97.

2 Ibid, 97.

3 Ibid, 3.

4 Ibid, 101.

5 Ibid, 47.

6 Ibid, 143.

7 Ibid, 214.

The Journals of Nicholas Cresswell was first published in 1924 and offers a candid account of the American Revolution from a viewpoint not typically explored. Its accounts of mustering militia, salt shortages, political pulpits, and anti-Tory riots and fights add color to our revolutionary origins. Add to that Cresswell’s experiences with the Native Americans in the Ohio country and the plantations in Barbados which further inform our understanding of our colonial past. Join Cresswell’s journey! To read more about Cresswell’s journey click here. The blog is an online platform and resource to follow his daily posts as they occurred 250 years ago. Keyword search features and research links are featured as well. Follow along on Facebook, too, at Nicholas Cresswell Journals.

Sovereign Love: Remembering Major Andre

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back guest historian Avellina Balestri

As I have increased research and work on my American Revolution trilogy All Ye That Pass By, I have noticed a trend towards making this particular season between the anniversary of Nathan Hale’s hanging (September 22, 1776) and John Andre’s hanging (October 2, 1780) into a strange sort of macabre festival I have dubbed “Hangemtide.” I suppose one could consider it a sort of Halloween for historical enthusiasts, as the autumnal chill starts to creep into the air, greenery dies, and horror releases hit the market. But a strange pseudo-religious reality I have observed is a tendency to treat these hangings as secular passion plays of a kind, connected by a secular Advent calendar of daily memorials, with the overarching takeaway being a strange sense of catharsis for the salvation of a newborn nation.

As a Catholic, I very well know the thematic beats, and I can sense them in an unsettling way in these commemorations. We must have our scapegoat; a man, or two, must die so the nation might live in our origin myth. But though the narrative may comfortably place Hale as the first Christ-figure, it uncomfortably assures that Andre is the second. We as the audience, while intended to shed tears for the first, are meant to bay for the blood of the second. Perhaps we may pity him in passing moments, but never so much that we truly desire him to be spared. His death is a foregone conclusion of the ritual which must be affirmed. We are recalling the traditional readings on Passion Sunday, and hardly realize it. We have, perhaps, lost the much greater plot of Christianity, that in the death of each, the other perishes, and in every death, we partake, in the killing and the dying, and in every human catastrophe, there is planted the original Passion Tree, no less in the past than in the present. History is not safe from our iniquity, nor from grace breaking in upon it, oftentimes painfully.

Touching back upon the historical events being remembered according to our national needs, I have often gently chided friends involved in “Hangentide” that I am ever on call to be the defense lawyer Major Andre never got should they wish to shuttle me into the past on circuit. I do not intend to make that defense the core of my current thesis, but put simply, I believe that if he had received a proper legal defense, Andre may well have had his sentence reduced based on extenuating circumstances. But that was not to be, because it could not be, not in the narrative as it is presented to us over and over again. This was a necessary death; a payment to Justice itself. It is language used to mask what was essentially a revenge hanging for both Hale’s execution at the hands of Crown forces and Arnold’s betrayal of the revolution for hard cold coin. The true foundation stone of “Hangemtide” is a satisfaction we are meant to share in nearly 250-year-old retribution. It is meant to, in some way, bring the country together through our most primal tribal instinct. But does it?

Continue reading “Sovereign Love: Remembering Major Andre”

Founders and Drinkers

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back guest historian Michael Aubrecht

As someone who enjoys the occasional cocktail I am admittedly curious as to the rumored excessive-drinking habits of our Founding Fathers.

After conducting a casual examination, I think it would be fair to say that their wealth, power, and the period in which they lived in made alcohol a mainstay in their daily lives. Most of these gentlemen were the political playboys of their day and we already know that many of them had a penchant for wine, women and song. Today most people assume that the common table wine was the preferred beverage of colonial times and that most folks simply enjoyed it as a compliment to meals.

According to research conducted by Stanton Peele, the Founders had a much broader palette when it came to engaging in the Spirit of ‘76. Simply put, these boys liked to party:

How do we know the Founding Fathers as a group drank a lot? Well, for one thing, we have records of their imbibing. In 1787, two days before they signed off on the Constitution, the 55 delegates to the Constitutional Convention partied at a tavern.

According to the bill preserved from the evening, they drank 54 bottles of Madeira, 60 bottles of claret, eight of whiskey, 22 of porter, eight of hard cider, 12 of beer and seven bowls of alcoholic punch. That’s more than two bottles of fruit of the vine, plus a few shots and a lot of punch and beer, for every delegate. Clearly, that’s humanly impossible.

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