Major John Van Dyk and the Bones of Major John André. Part II

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back Jeffrey Collin Wilford
For Part I, click here.

General Benedict Arnold’s Betrayal

On the morning of September 21, 1780, while Captain John Van Dyk, only recently freed from the prison ship Jersey, was guarding West Point as part of Colonel John Lamb’s artillery unit, the HMS Vulture arrived at Haverstraw Bay and anchored just off Teller’s Point. Two men pressing apples at a cider mill on the shore became alarmed at the presence of a British warship on the river north of the “neutral ground,” and a barge disembarking from it filled with Redcoats. Not knowing their intent, both decided to take matters into their own hands and opened fire on the soldiers. John “Rifle Jack” Peterson, a veteran of the Battle of Saratoga, received his nickname due to his superior marksmanship. The other, Moses Sherwood was just 19 years old and a friend of Jack Peterson. Both were enlisted in the Westchester County militia. Their relationship was very close as Rifle Jack had held Sherwood’s father in his arms as he died at Saratoga three years earlier. 

Croton (Teller’s) Point today – (Wilford)

Several of their shots hit their mark, wounding soldiers and prompting the barge to return to the Vulture which opened fire with a barrage of grapeshot on the two men as they crouched behind rocks. This signaled to the pair that the ship was within cannon range and they quickly made their way in the darkness to Fort Lafayette ten miles to the north to secure a cannon from the officer in charge, Colonel James Livingston.

Cannon that fired on the Vulture
Peekskill Museum (Wilford)

At Peterson and Sherwood worked with several other soldiers to lug the 4-pounder back to the point while, unbeknownst to them, André slipped away from the Vulture. He made his way from the Vulture to shore, at around midnight, with Loyalist Joshua Hett Smith who had been instructed to gather him from the ship.  His destination was a clandestine meeting on the river bank with American General Benedict Arnold, the famous war hero of Saratoga who had been plotting for months to turn against the cause of American independence. What was clear, by André’s account, was that this meeting was to be a fairly quick round-trip between the Vulture and shore under cover of darkness. 

Instead, an unraveling of the circumstances dictated that he shed all previous warnings from British General Sir Henry Clinton to stay dressed in his regimental uniform, avoid enemy checkpoints, and not possess any incriminating papers. André admitted this to Clinton in a letter written after his capture and dated September 29, 1780 stating, “The Events of coming within an Enemys posts and of Changing my dress which led  me to my present Situation were contrary to my own Intentions as they were to your Orders.” This would force him to become, in his own words, “involuntarily an impostor.”      

As negotiations on the riverbank dragged on, likely due to Arnold’s negotiations around rank and compensation, daybreak drew near. Fearing discovery, and clearly against André’s original plan, they moved their talks to the home of Smith, which overlooked the river and the Vulture at anchor. During the meeting at Smith’s house, Arnold eventually handed over the defensive plans of the Continental Army’s citadel, West Point, and the minutes from General George Washington’s September 6th War Council meeting that created a vulnerability for the Americans that could have proved catastrophic. 

It is easy to understand why West Point was so significant to the British.  It was crucial, not just as a military installation situated on the banks of the Hudson between New England and the Southern Colonies, but as a symbol of American strength and resolve. Perched on the high ground overlooking the Hudson, West Point had been there to thwart British attempts to dominate the 300-mile-long river which would have allowed them to effectively cut off the rebels of New England from the rest of the colonies. Losing West Point would have taken an important strategic foothold away from the Americans. The potential of losing General Washington in the process would have also dealt a severely damaging blow to the American cause, if not ending the war altogether. 

While the Arnold and André negotiations were taking place, a contingent of men, along with Peterson and Sherwood, had dragged the 4-pounder to Teller’s Point into position on the riverbank within range of the Vulture. 

Early in the morning, awakened by cannon fire, the conspirators at Smith’s house could see the Americans in the distance opening fire on the ship. Though he did not immediately know it, this would permanently separate André from his only means of a safe escape. Hit several times and stranded in the middle of the Hudson by a slack tide and unfavorable winds, the Vulture endured the cannon fire but eventually cut her cables to drift with the currents south to Dobbs Ferry. 

As a result of the retreat of the Vulture, an alternative plan was devised to get André back to the British lines. On the morning of the 22nd, in disguise and with a pass written by Arnold to travel unmolested behind American lines under the alias John Anderson, he and Smith began the overland trek back to British-occupied New York City.  Arnold returned to his home at West Point. What was clear from André’s later testimony was that he felt like this change of plan made him a victim of circumstance saying he “thought it was settled that in the way I came I was also to return.”

What were the motivations for the thirty-nine-year-old hero of Saratoga, who had risen through the military ranks to become one of Washington’s most effective field generals, to give up not only West Point, but his reputation in history? Much has been written, but what is known is that he had been living a life well beyond his means. His wife Peggy Shippen, half his age and from a prominent Philadelphia Loyalist merchant family, had a taste for luxury. To woo the 19-year-old, Arnold openly lived a life of excess while in Philadelphia which turned more than a few heads, wondering if he had secretly been trading with the British. 

Benedict Arnold was also known for his self-assured nature and temper. Infighting within certain circles of the military, and his discovery that several junior officers had received promotions ahead of him, provided him even more motivation to turn. Arnold felt the military did not display the respect that was due a war hero and this sentiment was on display in a letter to Washington on May 5, 1779.  “Having made every sacrifice of fortune and blood, and become a cripple in the service of my country, I little expected to meet the ungrateful returns I have received of my countrymen.”  Perhaps the influence placed upon him by his relationship with Peggy due to her father’s position, and his criticism of the American cause added more weight to his self-imposed need to betray his country. Consequently,  he began to develop a plan to turn over West Point to British General Sir Henry Clinton, with Major John André as the British intermediary.

The second day treading enemy soil was rather uneventful as André and Smith carefully made their way south to the original King’s Ferry which crossed the Hudson between Stony Point and Verplanck, the site of the former Fort Lafayette. The crossing was a nerve-wracking affair for André as this was the main ferry crossing for all Continental troops and supplies just outside of the watchful eye of the British forces in New York City 45 miles to the south. Following the Crom-Pond Road, the journey was slow and deliberate, befitting a spy and his Loyalist guide. As nightfall approached, they bedded down at a farmhouse before continuing their journey early the next morning. 

Isaac Underhill House – Where André ate his last breakfast (Wilford)

The pair continued to make their way along the Croton River until reaching the southernmost lines of the Continental Army where Smith left André just after finishing their breakfast at the Isaac Underhill house. By the time André had reached Tarrytown, New York, by way of the Albany Post Road, a road he had been told to avoid, his luck had run out. Isaac Underhill House – Where André ate his last breakfast (Wilford)

      At 9 o’clock on the morning of September 23, 1780, André was stopped by three militiamen at Clark’s Kill, a stream that today marks the boundary between Sleepy Hollow and Tarrytown, New York. According to André, he “was taken by three Volunteers who not Satisfied with my pass riffled me and finding papers Made me a prisoner.” Isaac Van Wart, John Paulding, and David Williams would go on to be considered heroes by most, but certainly not by all. One of their leading detractors was the person George Washington entrusted with returning André to West Point and ultimately Tappan for trial, Major Benjamin Tallmadge. Tallmadge was Washington’s chief intelligence officer and he believed the three militiamen were “of that class of person who passed between both armies.” He felt they lacked the very character he would end up heaping upon André.

André Capture Site (Wilford)

While the circumstances surrounding Major John André’s capture unfolded in Tarrytown, General Arnold, aware that his treacherous plot had been uncovered, and leaving behind his baby and a hysterically distraught Peggy Shippen, raced to avoid capture and meet up with the HMS Vulture. Upon his return from a meeting with French General Rochambeau at Hartford Connecticut, Washington, unaware of any involvement by Shippen, allowed her to return to her family in Philadelphia, perhaps letting go of an important bargaining chip in the process. It would later be learned that she might have been complicit in her husband’s treason. While she openly denied it, an admission from Theodosia Burr, Aaron Burr’s wife, that she admitted to her involvement as well as a £500 annual pension from King George III would suggest this.

Review: Matthew E.  Reardon, The Traitor’s Homecoming: Benedict Arnold’s Raid on New London, Connecticut, September 4-13, 1781.

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes guest historian Riley Sullivan, Professor of History at San Jacinto College in Houston, Texas.

While many might be familiar with famed engagements at places like Bunker Hill, Saratoga, and Yorktown during the Revolutionary War, few are familiar with the actions that took place near New London, Connecticut in September of 1781. However, for the people of Connecticut, the battles that took place near Groton Heights and New London have been immortalized as a campaign highlighted by treachery and massacre. Largely, this interpretation has been adopted due to the commander of the British forces who engaged in this raid, Benedict Arnold.

Perhaps no other name in American History brings about more scorn than that of Benedict Arnold. Having defected to the British cause late in the Revolutionary War, for Americans at the time–and even today–he is viewed as a modern day Judas. However, with such infamy ultimately comes much misinterpretation of this historical figure and the events he was involved in. In Matthew E. Reardon’s recent study The Traitor’s Homecoming, he attempts to undo much of this misinterpretation. Drawing on previously unused primary sources, Reardon constructs an engaging argument that challenges the traditional view of Arnold’s conduct in the New London raid.

To construct this narrative of the New London raid, Reardon attempts to place into context the setting of the New London raid. By this stage in the war, the conflict in New York had been a state of stalemate for the previous few years. However, with Generals Washington and Rochambeu’s combined Franco-American forces on the move, the British commander in the region, Henry Clinton—informed by faulty intelligence as Reardon demonstrated—was convinced that an attack on New York was imminent. As a result, to divert Washington’s attention away from a possible attack on New York, Clinton authorized Arnold to lead a contingent of British troops to attack the vulnerable Connecticut coastline.

New London made the ideal target for a British raid as it had been a hotbed for commerce and privateering for the Patriot cause. To conduct such a raid, Clinton turned to Arnold as he was both a native of Connecticut and familiar with the New London area. Largely only being contested by militia behind a number of forts that guarded approaches to both the town and the Thames River, Arnold’s combined force of Loyalists, Hessian Jaegers, and British regulars made quick work of the Patriot militia throughout the campaign. Even with New London in their hands, outside events–notably Clinton’s realization that Washington was moving on Cornwallis at Yorktown–led to Arnold having to relinquish his gains. However, with the high casualties suffered by both sides during the raid, coupled with the burning of much of the town, the events “cemented Benedict Arnold’s reputation for villainy.” (x)

When considering the traditional interpretation of Arnold’s raid on New London, Reardon makes it clear throughout his work that a “distorted interpretation” of the events had emerged (ix). From veterans to the Groton Battle Monument at Fort Griswold Battlefield State Park, the events that took place in Connecticut in 1781 have been enshrined as a massacre of Connecticut militia at the hands of Arnold. However, when looking at contemporary letters, diaries, and later pension records, Reardon demonstrates that there are some noticeable gaps within the traditional account of this campaign. In particular, when examining the death of Colonel William Ledyard–who was alleged to have been killed while attempting to surrender–Reardon concluded that through these sources, the traditional accounts accepted proved to be inconsistent with contemporary accounts of the campaign.

But, even with these inconsistencies, this is not to say that the fighting at Fort Griswold and the subsequent burning of New London was less than brutal. Reardon wrote that “the immediate reaction of the community was shock” and that “for many it was beyond comprehension.” (339) To no surprise, this sheer shock of the fighting coupled with Arnold’s involvement led to this distorted narrative of the campaign.

Through the examination of contemporary letters, diaries, and later pension applications, Reardon is able to reconstruct in great detail the events of Arnold’s New London raid and offer an unbiased narrative. By providing these fresh sources in The Traitor’s Homecoming, Reardon effectively builds on the existing literature of the subject and demonstrates how public perception can lead to the misinterpretation of historical events like that of the New London raid.

Details:

Matthew E.  Reardon, The Traitor’s Homecoming: Benedict Arnold’s Raid on New London, Connecticut, September 4-13, 1781. Published by: Savas Beatie LLC. Summer 2024. 448 Pages.

*Check out Emerging Revolutionary War’s YouTube page as well for a “Rev War Revelry” interview with author Matthew E. Reardon.*

Major John Van Dyk and the Bones of Major John André. Part I

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes historian and educator Jeffrey Collin Wilford to the blog. A brief biog is at the bottom of this post. A list of sources will be at the bottom of the concluding Part III.

Major John André and John Van Dyk: Continental Artillery Soldier 

Much has been written about the betrayal of America by Benedict Arnold. However, one small but candidly morbid fact buried in the story has not. It relates to the disposition of British Major John André’s remains as they lay in a wooden ossuary on a British mail ship on the banks of the Hudson River while awaiting their return to England in 1821. The only recorded recollection of this event was in a letter written by a 67-year-old former Revolutionary War soldier and published in a Virginia newspaper in 1825. This man also happened to be one of the four officers who escorted André to the gallows in Tappan, New York, on October 2, 1780. 

John Van Dyk lived a storied life, serving America as a militiaman, Continental Artillery soldier, customs officer, New York City assessor, and assistant alderman. He came from an old Dutch family that had settled in the original New Amsterdam colony, which would eventually become Manhattan. There is ample evidence that, in 1775, he was actively involved in significant acts of disobedience against British rule with other “Liberty Boys,” as the New York Sons of Liberty preferred to call themselves. 

One of these acts was stealing muskets and cannons from the Royal Armory and Fort George.  Under the encouragement of Isaac Sears and Marinus Willett,  he was one of a crowd of colonists who broke into the Royal Arsenal at City Hall on April 23, 1775, stealing  550 muskets, bayonets, and related munitions. The angry mob had been spurred to act by the attacks on their fellow countrymen the week previous at Lexington and Concord in Massachusetts. Every person who took a musket was required to sign for it, signaling a promise to return it if it was needed to fight against British occupation. That call came on July 4, 1775, when the New York Provincial Congress ordered them recalled to outfit newly commissioned  Colonel Alexander McDougall’s 1st New York Regiment. It was relayed that anyone who refused would be deemed an enemy of the state. In all, 434 muskets were returned. 

Exactly four months later, Captain John Van Dyk was one of sixty or so men who, under Liberty Boys Colonel John Lasher and Colonel John Lamb, executed the orders of the New York Provincial Congress to remove the cannon from Fort George at the southern tip of Manhattan and drag them back to the area of City Hall. With tensions high in the city, the state leaders feared they would be turned against the colonists if they were left in the hands of the British. One of the militia members assisting in the removal effort was 19-year-old King’s College student Alexander Hamilton of the Hearts of Oak independent militia. By this time, civil unrest had relegated the British colonial government to operating from naval ships anchored in New York Harbor, which made keeping the cannon secure from a more agitated population nearly impossible. 

Just before midnight on August 23, 1775, a skirmish ensued between  Lasher and Lamb’s men removing the cannon, and a British barge near the shore. It had been sent to monitor the rebels’ activity by Captain George Vandeput from the HMS Asia, a 64-gun British warship anchored near shore. Musket shots rang out, presumably started by the British, which resulted in the killing of a King’s soldier on the barge. As a result, the Asia turned broadside and opened fire with their cannons in a barrage on the city that lasted for three hours. A city whose population had already been diminished by the fear of a coming conflict, shrunk even further due to the terror experienced that night.  

John Van Dyk spent most of the next eight years as an officer in General Henry Knox’s artillery while under the command of Colonel John Lamb.  During the war, he saw action at Brooklyn, Harlem Heights, White Plains, Trenton, Brandywine, Germantown, Crosswicks Creek, Monmouth, and Short Hills. He was also at both Morristown winter encampments and Valley Forge. In 1780 he was captured by the British off the coast of New Jersey and confined on the prison ship HMS Jersey in Brooklyn before being released that summer.  

Van Dyk had spent months out of commission in late 1779 and early 1780 with what, according to his symptoms, was probably malaria or yellow fever.  He petitioned General Knox, who, in turn, appealed to General Washington for leave to recuperate. Making his way to West Point to meet with General Washington he was instructed by the Commander-in-Chief’s aide-de-camp to be evaluated by Dr. John Cochran, physician and surgeon general of the army of the Middle Department. On Cochran’s recommendation, General Washington wrote to President Samuel Huntington asking that the Continental Congress grant Van Dyk’s petition for an 8-month Furlow to sea to convalesce, which was common at the time as it was believed the fresh sea air was helpful to healing. Approved, it would take six months before he boarded the brig General Reed with a crew of 120 and 16 guns, a privateer out of Philadelphia commanded by  Samuel Davidson. Once aboard ship he was temporarily made a Lieutenant of Marines. 

Only two days into the voyage, on April 21, 1780, things took an immediate turn for the worse when they were intercepted and captured by the 28-gun HMS Iris and the 16-gun sloop HMS Vulture. The Iris was the former American warship USS Hancock, captured in July of 1777 and renamed by the British. Van Dyk was brought to Brooklyn and placed on the prison ship Jersey in Wallabout Bay, one of the most notorious and deadly places for holding American prisoners of war. Conditions were so poor that, while approximately 6,800 American soldiers died in battle during the Revolution, over 11,000 prisoners died on the Jersey alone! Fortunately for John Van Dyk, American officers were often traded off the Jersey for British officers who were in the custody of American forces. Within two months he was released and traveled to his temporary home of Elizabethtown, New Jersey to finish recuperating before rejoining Lamb’s artillery in Tappan, New York. 

John Van Dyk had experienced many horrors of war in the years and months leading up to the morning of September 21, 1780, when British Major John André, an Adjutant General to British General Sir Henry Clinton, left New York City and sailed up the Hudson River. This pivotal incident would brand one of Washington’s closest generals a traitor and lead to the death of the esteemed and well-liked André. Ironically, Major André traveled on the very same sloop that had assisted in the capture of Captain Van Dyk just six months earlier. 

Bio:

Jeffrey Wilford has been an educator in Maine for over 30 years where he holds certifications in history and science. He received a bachelor’s degree in communications with an emphasis in journalism from California State University – Fullerton and a master’s degree in education, teaching and learning, from the University of Maine. In addition to his career teaching, he has worked as a general assignment newspaper reporter and an assistant to the press secretary of former Maine Governor and US Congressman Joseph Brennen. He lives in Maine with his wife Nicolette Rolde Wilford.

Francis Channing Barlow: Chief Marshal of Concord’s Centennial

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes guest historian Andrea Quinn.

In April 1875, Concord, Massachusetts, commemorated the centennial of the American Revolution’s beginning with a celebration that merged historical remembrance with contemporary national healing. At the heart of this tribute stood Major General Francis Channing Barlow, chosen as Chief Marshal for the event. His presence and leadership embodied the spirit of both Concord’s revolutionary origins and the sacrifices of the recent Civil War. Though his life included many achievements—from battlefield valor to public service—it was in this role as Chief Marshal that Barlow served as a living link between generations of American struggle and aspiration.

Photo Credit: Library of Congress 1864 Photo General Francis Channing Barlow

Barlow’s appointment was no mere formality. A Civil War general known for integrity, courage, and commitment to reform, Barlow had deep ties to Concord. As a youth, he was shaped by the town’s intellectual and moral environment, attending lectures by Ralph Waldo Emerson and immersing himself in the ideals of Transcendentalism. This upbringing instilled in him a strong sense of civic duty, justice, and personal responsibility—qualities that defined his wartime leadership and post-war public service.

The Concord Centennial was intended as more than a local remembrance—it was a national event. The town’s planning committee sought a figure who could represent both the revolutionary past and the post-Civil War Union. Barlow, whose own life had traced the arc of American idealism—from Brook Farm to the battlefields of Gettysburg and Spotsylvania—was their clear choice.

Continue reading “Francis Channing Barlow: Chief Marshal of Concord’s Centennial”

The Bloody Battle Road: Battle of Menotomy

ERW Welcomes Matt Beres, Executive Director of the Arlington Historical Society

On the morning of April 19, 1775, the first shot of America’s War for Independence was fired on the Lexington Green. Later that morning, Major John Buttrick, commanding the local Provincial forces, gave the order to fire on the British Regulars at the North Bridge. This act would later be remembered as the “Shot Heard ‘Round the World,” a phrase immortalized by Ralph Waldo Emerson.

As Lt. Col. Smith’s British Regulars began their retreat back to Boston, Governor Thomas Gage sent a relief column of Regulars, led by General Hugh Percy. Meanwhile, Provincial militias and minute companies from surrounding towns marched toward the conflict, firing on both sides of the main road leading back to Boston. The Battle was just beginning.

While Lexington is famous as the site of the “first shot” and Concord for the “Shot Heard ‘Round the World,” Menotomy (present-day Arlington) is known as the site of the largest battle of the day, where fierce fighting erupted between the retreating British forces and the growing Provincial forces. The following stories are from this Battle.

David Lamson

Earlier that day, a convoy of provisions and supplies, protected by a detachment of British Regulars, arrived behind the main force heading toward Lexington and faced difficulties crossing the Brighton Bridge. Before their arrival, the Committee of Safety had removed the planks, and the combination of heavy wagons and repairs to the bridge caused the convoy to become separated from the main force, rendering it vulnerable.

An alarm rider from Cambridge alerted locals, prompting men from the ‘exempt’ or ‘alarm’ list—those unfit for regular Militia or Minute companies—to gather at Cooper’s Tavern to plan to capture the convoy. Among them was David Lamson, a biracial French and Indian War veteran, whose experience and bravery made him a natural leader. The group quickly appointed him as their Commanding Officer.

According to a story derived from Lamson himself, they positioned themselves behind a stone wall near the First Parish Meeting House. As the convoy approached, they ordered it to surrender. When the drivers urged their horses forward, Lamson’s men fired, killing the driver and several horses, and wounding two Regulars. In panic, the remaining six Regulars fled toward Spy Pond, and discarded their weapons.

It is said they then surrendered to an old woman, Mother Bathericke, who was in the field picking flowers. The old woman forced them to the house of Ephraim Frost, Captain of the Menotomy Militia, and stated, “… you tell King George that an old woman took six of his grenadiers prisoners.”

Samuel Whittemore

Aiden Lassell Ripley (1896-1969), Retreat from Lexington at the Foot of the Rocks. A.2.509. Arlington Historical Society Collections

Around 4:00 pm, the retreating British Regulars arrived at the village Menotomy. It was here where Samuel Whittemore, the oldest known combatant of the Revolutionary War, earned his fame. During the conflict, Whittemore took cover behind a stone wall. He reportedly fired at five soldiers but was soon overwhelmed. He suffered a gunshot wound to the cheek and a bayonet stab wound. When the Regulars continued their retreat, the locals carried him to Cooper’s Tavern, where Dr. Tufts of Medford treated his injuries.

Remarkably, Whittemore survived for another 18 years after suffering these life-threatening wounds. He lived long enough to see the birth of a new and independent nation.

Jason Russell

Later during their retreat, Gen. Percy ordered his men to enter the residences along Concord Road (now Massachusetts Avenue) to eliminate the Provincials who were firing from inside these houses. One notable example was the site of Jason Russell House.

Ruth L. Berry, 1975. Jason Russell House in Battle With British Soldiers 1990.19.1. Arlington Historical Society Collections

Jason Russell was a middle-aged farmer who reportedly had a leg disability. He barricaded his property and refused to leave, asserting, “An Englishman’s house is his castle.”

As British Regulars surrounded his home, several Provincials from different towns sought refuge inside. Tragically, Jason Russell and several others lost their lives on his property.

Today, the c. 1740 house, still bearing musket ball holes in the remaining structure from the fight, is at the heart of the Arlington Historical Society’s regional history museum, offering guided tours and engaging exhibits that highlight the lasting impacts of the American Revolution and Arlington’s broader history.

Explore more at: https://arlingtonhistorical.org/

Matt Beres

Executive Director

Arlington Historical Society

“…there never was a more ridiculous expedition…” Oswego Raid 1783 – Part I

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back guest historian Eric Olsen. Eric is a historian with the National Park Service at Morristown National Historical Park. Click here for more information about the site.

Years ago, while I was looking at a list of disabled Revolutionary War veterans from Rhode Island I noticed some curious things. The list didn’t provide much information. It just gave the name and age of the veteran, their disability and how they were injured. At first, I was excited because I found a couple of guys who were wounded at the battle of Springfield in June 1780. But then I noticed a number of other men whose information seemed a little odd.

Several men were listed as having lost toes. Those same men had all lost their toes at a place called Oswego. Their wounds had all occurred in February 1783. A couple of the men even had the same unusual name of “Prince.”  For me this raised several questions which required more research.

Fort Ontario at Oswego in 1759

Where in the World is Oswego?

It turns out Oswego is a town in New York state on the eastern shore of Lake Ontario where it connects with the Oswego River. The name “Oswego” comes from the Iroquois word meaning “pouring out place” which is appropriate since it is where the Oswego River flows out into Lake Ontario. Heading inland, the Oswego River connects with the Oneida River which flows out of Oneida Lake.

In the 18th century lakes and rivers were the interstate highways of the day. Boats traveling on water could travel faster and carry heavier loads than wagons could on dirt roads. As a result, settlements developed along waterways and forts were built at strategic points where waterways connected.

The British originally established Oswego as a trading post on the northwest side of the mouth of the Oswego River. It was first fortified in 1727 and was known as the Fort of the Six Nations or Fort Oswego. By 1755 Fort Ontario was built on the opposite side of the river to bolster the area’s defenses during the French and Indian War. That fort was destroyed by the French in 1756 and rebuilt by the British in 1759. During the Revolutionary War, the fort was the starting point for St. Leger’s march against Fort Stanwix in 1777. Later the fort was abandoned by the British and destroyed by the Americans in 1778. The British returned and rebuilt the fort in 1782.

Continue reading ““…there never was a more ridiculous expedition…” Oswego Raid 1783 – Part I”

The Jefferson Bible

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back guest historian Michael Aubrecht.

Thomas Jefferson rejected the “divinity” of Jesus, but he believed that Christ was a deeply interesting and profoundly important moral or ethical teacher. He also subscribed to the belief that it was in Christ’s moral and ethical teachings that a civilized society should be conducted. Cynical of the miracle accounts in the New Testament, Jefferson was convinced that the authentic words of Jesus had been contaminated.

His theory was that the earliest Christians, eager to make their religion appealing to the pagans, had obscured the words of Jesus with the philosophy of the ancient Greeks and the teachings of Plato. These so-called Platonists had thoroughly muddled Jesus’s original message. Firmly believing that reason could be added in place of what he considered to be “supernatural” embellishments, Jefferson worked tirelessly to compose a shortened version of the Gospels titled The Philosophy of Jesus of Nazareth. The subtitle stated that the work was “extracted from the account of his life and the doctrines as given by Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.”

 In 1820, Jefferson returned to his controversial New Testament research. This time, he completed a much more ambitious work titled The Life and Morals of Jesus of Nazareth Extracted Textually from the Gospels in Greek, Latin, French and English. The text of the New Testament appears in four parallel columns in four languages. Jefferson omitted the words he thought were inauthentic and retained those he believed were original. The resulting work is commonly known as the Jefferson Bible.

Using a razor and gum, Jefferson committed blasphemy. He cut and pasted his arrangement of selected verses from a 1794 bilingual Latin/Greek Bible using the text of the Plantin Polyglot, a French Geneva Bible and the King James Version. He selected excerpts from the gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John in chronological order and combined the narrative with those of another to create a single chronicle.

No supernatural acts of Christ are included, as Jefferson viewed Jesus as strictly human. He also believed that Jesus himself recognized a more deistic belief system. In a letter to Benjamin Rush, Jefferson wrote, “I should proceed to a view of the life, character, and doctrines of Jesus, who sensible of incorrectness of their ideas of the Deity, and of morality, endeavored to bring them to the principles of a pure deism.” Jefferson also completely denied the resurrection. The book ends with the words: “Now, in the place where He was crucified, there was a garden; and in the garden a new sepulchre, wherein was never man yet laid. There laid they Jesus. And rolled a great stone to the door of the sepulchre, and departed.”

Jefferson engraving from 1867. Library of Congress.

Jefferson described the work in a letter to John Adams, dated October 12, 1813:

In extracting the pure principles which he taught, we should have to strip off the artificial vestments in which they have been muffled by priests, who have travestied them into various forms, as instruments of riches and power to them.…We must reduce our volume to the simple evangelists, select, even from them, the very words only of Jesus, paring off the Amphibologisms into which they have been led, by forgetting often, or not understanding, what had fallen from him, by giving their own misconceptions as his dicta, and expressing unintelligibly for others what they had not understood themselves. There will be found remaining the most sublime and benevolent code of morals which has ever been offered to man. I have performed this operation for my own use, by cutting verse by verse out of the printed book, and arranging the matter which is evidently his, and which is as easily distinguishable as diamonds in a dunghill. The result is an 8vo of 46 pages of pure and unsophisticated doctrines.

In a letter to Reverend Charles Clay, Jefferson described his results: “Probably you have heard me say I had taken the four Evangelists, had cut out from them every text they had recorded of the moral precepts of Jesus, and arranged them in a certain order; and although they appeared but as fragments, yet fragments of the most sublime edifice of morality which had ever been exhibited to man.” Most historians feel that Jefferson composed the book for his own satisfaction, supporting the Christian faith as he saw it. He did not produce it to shock or offend the religious community; he composed it for himself, for his devotion and for his own personal assurance.

After completion of the Life and Morals, Jefferson shared it with a number of friends, but he never allowed it to be published during his lifetime. The most complete form Jefferson produced was inherited by his grandson Thomas Jefferson Randolph.

The Life and Morals of Jesus of Nazareth.Monticello.org.

The Wallace House at 250: New Research and Rehabilitation on Washington’s WinterHeadquarters

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes guest historian Paul F. Soltis

250 years ago in 1775 John Wallace of Philadelphia was preparing to move. Born in Scotland in 1718, John was the youngest son of the minister of the Church of Scotland at Drumelizer in the Scottish Lowlands south of Glasgow and Edinburgh. While his eldest brother William would take over the ministry in the Kirk following their father’s death, John emigrated from Scotland to the colonies of British North America. Like many Scottish emigrants, Mr. Wallace entered the merchant trade, first in Newport, Rhode Island and eventually in Philadelphia where he met and married Mary Maddox of an established Philadelphia family.

At the opening of the Revolutionary War in 1775, John Wallace purchased 95 acres on the Raritan River in Somerset County, New Jersey from the Rev. Jacob Rutsen Hardenbergh, minister to the Dutch Reformed Churches of the upper Raritan River Valley. At this country estate he called “Hope Farm” Mr. Wallace built the largest home constructed in New Jersey during the Revolutionary War, perhaps “hoping” to escape the revolutionary ferment of Philadelphia. Midway between the British garrison at New York and the Continental Congress in Philadelphia, John Wallace instead found himself at the Crossroads of the American Revolution.

In the fall of 1778, the Continental Army arrived to this region of Somerset County where the Middle Brook flows into the Raritan River for the Middlebrook Cantonment of 1778-79. Nathanael Greene, Quartermaster General of the Continental Army, wrote on October 18, “Middle Brook is situate in a plentyful Country, naturally strong and difficult of access and surrounded with a great plenty of Wood. Great security will also be given to this Camp by the militia of the Country.” Col. Sidney Berry, a deputy quartermaster to Gen. Nathanael Greene, arranged with Mr. Wallace for use of the Wallace House at Hope Farm, a few miles west of the village of Middlebrook, as headquarters for George Washington.

Continue reading “The Wallace House at 250: New Research and Rehabilitation on Washington’s WinterHeadquarters”

The Death and Life of Bazabeel Norman, Veteran & “Man of Color”

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back guest historian Eric Olsen. Eric is a historian with the National Park Service at Morristown National Historical Park. To learn more about the site, click here.

The following obituary of a Revolutionary War veteran appeared in a Marietta, Ohio newspaper in 1830.“Saturday, July 24, 1830

Casualty – On Saturday evening last, Mr. Bazil Norman of Roxbury township, a man of color, left his house to go to watch a deer lick, and not returning in the course of the night, the next day a search was commenced under the belief that some accident had befallen him; after a diligent search by his family and neighbors, he was found dead having fallen from a precipice about twelve feet.  From appearances he had been to the lick and stayed the usual time, and late in the evening attempted to return, by the aid of a torch-light; having a narrow pass to descend between some rocks about a half mile from his house, he missed his way a few yards, fell, and broke is neck. Mr. Norman was aged about 73 – was a soldier in the revolutionary war, and at the time of his death received a pension from the United States.” -American Friend & Marietta Gazette, July 24, 1830.

Bazabeel Norman was an African American private in the Maryland Line of the Continental Army and most likely part of the 1779-1780 encampment at Jockey Hollow. I haven’t been able to find any muster rolls or service records to confirm this, but fortunately Norman did apply for a veteran’s pension in 1818 in which he summarized his military service.

“ enlisted in fall of the year 1777 into the company of Capt. Richard Anderson as a private soldier in the regiment commanded by Col. John Gumby in the Maryland line and served my Country against the common enemy until the close of the war…I was in the battles of Monmouth, Camden, Cowpens, Guilford Courthouse & Eutaw Springs. I am now 67 years old…”

In 1818 the only veterans who could apply for a pension were for men who were infirm or indigent. Bazabeel Norman apparently fit the requirements and was granted a pension. But too many men were granted pensions and Congress suspected that undeserving men were cheating the system. In 1820 veterans who had been granted pensions in 1818 were now required to make a list of their possessions and prove they were needy. In his July 25, 1820 application, Norman summarized his family life.

“As to my family I have none at home but my wife, one son & a Grand child, an orphan. My wife is 63 years of age & very infirm, my son wants only about a month of being 21 years of age. My Grandchild is a Girl about eight years old & very weakly. The rest of my children are of age & doing for themselves. I am by occupation a farmer but owing to age & infirmity I am unable to do very little toward supporting myself.”

After his death in 1830 his wife “Fortune” applied for and obtained a widow’s pension [W 5429]. In her application, she mentioned that they were married before the end of the war but did not provide any more interesting information.

The only reason I was able to research Bazabeel Norman was because of an email from Michael Shaver, Acting Chief of Interpretation of Morristown NHP & Thomas Edison NHP. I’m quoting from his email, because frankly I never heard of the person he makes reference to and it easier than rewriting his email. Michael wrote, “A few weeks ago on the PBS series, Finding Your Roots, one of the genealogies that Henry Louis Gates was exploring was that of actress, Rebecca Hall. Hall, the daughter of Sir Peter Hall, founder of the Royal Shakespeare Company, and Maria Ewing, an American-born opera star of the 1970s and 1980s.  Hall has appeared in Iron Man 3 and last year’s King Kong movie, along with a host of highly acclaimed independent films. What prompted her appearance on the program was her directorial debut of the Netflix film, Passing. Hall now lives in Brooklyn and the Hudson Valley…

At about 30 minutes in, Gates is taking Hall back into the earlier generations of her family. He closes out with the discovery of Bazabeel “Basil” Norman, a free black from Maryland at about 36 minutes who was discovered through documentation of a veteran’s land grant in Ohio in 1818.

Basil Norman came from Frederick County, Maryland joined the 7th Regiment in the fall of 1777, under the command of Colonel John Gumby, in the company commanded by Captain Richard Anderson “and served my country against the common enemy until the close of the war under the continental establishment and discharged under a general order.

So Norman was probably hung his hat in Jockey Hollow.”

A big shout out/thank you to Michael for the tip which has revealed another African American soldier from Jockey Hollow.

Sources:

American Friend & Marietta Gazette, July 24, 1830, page 3, column 1, Ancestry online

Pension Application of Bazabeel Norman and his widow Fortune Norman, W5429, National Archives, Fold 3, Ancestry Online.

Finding Your Roots | Hidden in the Genes | Season 8 | Episode 1 | PBS

The Price is Right: Comparing Prices in 1794

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back guest historian Eric Olsen. Eric is a historian with the National Park Service at Morristown National Historical Park. Click here to learn more about this site.

    

Visitors always want to know, “How much did “that” cost back then?” We used to tell them because of inflation and the conversion from pounds to dollars it was really hard to give a definitive answer. It is even harder to figure during the American Revolution when the value of the dollars changed dramatically just over the course of a few months. There are all sorts of fancy conversion sites on the internet today but since math was not my strong point, I don’t know how accurate they are. 

One book tried another approach to explain 18th century vs. modern prices. “A person today, purchasing the same product made the same way out of materials made the same way, will pay roughly the same percentage of their wages for the product as a person of equal economic status in the past would have. For comparison, at the present time [1997 book] an average shop rate runs thirty-five dollars an hour for labor. If you make ten dollars an hour, this costs you three and a half hours of work, and the same ratio applied to a craftsman making thirty pounds a year or two pence per hour.” Makes sense but seems a bit too complicated.

However, I did find one primary source that can give a clue to the relative value of items. It comes from Theophile Cazenove, a Dutchman who traveled through New Jersey and Pennsylvania in 1794 looking for investment opportunities for Dutch bankers. At his various stops in Morris County, Cazenove recorded the prices of farms, livestock, and even labor.

Sometimes the prices were in pounds, other times they were in dollars. When he included both prices for one item, I did some very simple math and found that it took eight shillings to make one dollar, and that $2.50 equaled one pound. According to the online conversion applications, one pound in 1790 equaled 167.58 pounds today. One dollar in 1790 equaled 32.20 dollars in today’s money.

But without doing any math or conversions if we look at the prices Cazenove listed we can see what items were more expense than other ones. From that we can also assume the more expensive items were more highly valued.   

Keep in mind, on the local level in 18th century America, it was not a cash driven economy. Specie, Hard Money or coins, made of valuable metals such as silver and gold were in short supply in North America and used infrequently. Paper Money was rarely used, appearing briefly during periods of war when armies needed a large source of money to buy goods and services.

Continue reading “The Price is Right: Comparing Prices in 1794”