Timothy Newell kept a very vivid diary of life in Boston in 1775 and 1776. He started the entry below on this date, 250 years ago, by copying the “sundry papers lent me…relative to the Siege and Evacuation of Boston in 1775…”
To the Commanding Officer at Roxbury
March 8, 1776
As His Excellency Gen Howe is determined to leave the Town with the troops under his command, a number of the respectable Inhabitants, being very anxious for its preservation and safety, have applied to General Robertson for this purpose, who at their request have communicated the same to his Excellency Gen Howe, who has assurred him, that he has no intention of destroying the Town, unless the Troops under his command are molested, during their embarkation, or at their departure by the armed force without; which declaration he gave General Robertson leave to communicate to the Inhabitants. If such an opposition should take place, we have the greatest reason to expect the Town will be exposed to entire destruction. As our fears are quieted, with regard to General Howe’s intentions, we beg we may have some assurances, that so dreadful a calamity may not be brought on by any measures without. As a testimony of the truth above we have signed our names to this Paper, carried out by Mess Thomas and Jonathan Amory, and Peter Johonnet, who have at the earnest entreaties of the Inhabitants, through the Lieu Governor solicited a flag of truce for this purpose.
John Scollay 2. Timothy Newell 3. Thomas Marshall 4. Samuel Austin
*The General Robertson mentioned above was Brigadier General James Robertson, who commanded the 4th Brigade during the Siege of Boston
In March 1776, a quiet hill overlooking Boston Harbor became one of the first turning points of the American Revolutionary War. Dorchester Heights, rising above the southern approaches to Boston in what is now South Boston, played a decisive role in forcing the British Army to evacuate the city. The dramatic occupation and fortification of the Heights by American forces under General George Washington transformed a long, grinding siege into a strategic victory that reshaped the war’s momentum.
After the battles of Lexington and Concord in April 1775 and the bloody clash at Bunker Hill in June, British forces under General Thomas Gage and then William Howe found themselves effectively trapped in Boston. Surrounding militia units from Massachusetts and neighboring colonies formed a loose ring around the city, beginning what became known as the Siege of Boston. When George Washington arrived in July 1775 to take command of the newly formed Continental Army, he inherited a force that was determined but poorly supplied and short on artillery.
Throughout the fall and winter of 1775–1776, Washington searched for a way to break the stalemate. A direct assault on Boston would have been costly and risky. Instead, he looked to geography. Dorchester Heights, commanding sweeping views of the harbor and the city, offered a strategic advantage. If American forces could fortify the Heights with cannon, they would threaten both the British fleet and the troops stationed in Boston. Control of this high ground would make the British position untenable. The British Navy had encouraged British General Howe (now commanding the British forces in Boston) to take the position due to the Navy’s vulnerability if the Americans were able to command the heights with artillery. Howe underestimated the importance of the heights and also believed the Americans lacked the proper artillery and strength to hold it.
Knox marker on Dorchester Heights
The key to Washington’s plan lay in artillery. In late 1775, Colonel Henry Knox undertook an audacious mission to transport heavy cannons captured from the British at Fort Ticonderoga in upstate New York. Over the winter, Knox and his men hauled approximately 60 tons of artillery—an operation later dubbed the “Noble Train of Artillery”—over 300 miles of frozen rivers and snow-covered terrain to Cambridge, Massachusetts.
These cannons provided Washington with the firepower necessary to implement his strategy. By early March 1776, conditions were ripe. The ground was still frozen, making it easier to move heavy equipment and but would challenge their skills at building fortifications.
On the night of March 4, American troops moved silently toward Dorchester Heights. Under the cover of darkness and diversionary bombardments from other positions, they began constructing fortifications with remarkable speed. Using pre-prepared materials—fascines (bundles of sticks), chandeliers (wooden frames filled with earth), and hay bales—they built defensive works capable of withstanding British cannon fire.
By dawn on March 5, the anniversary of the Boston Massacre, British sentries were stunned to see formidable American fortifications atop the Heights, bristling with cannon aimed at the city and harbor. General Howe reportedly exclaimed that the rebels had accomplished more in one night than his army could have done in months. The strategic implications were clear. From Dorchester Heights, American artillery could rain fire down on British ships and troop positions. The Royal Navy, essential to British supply and mobility, was now vulnerable. Remaining in Boston was a risk that Admiral Molyneux Shuldham was not willing to take and pushed Howe to respond quickly.
General Howe initially planned a counterattack to dislodge the Americans. However, a fierce storm on March 6 disrupted preparations and made an amphibious assault difficult. Also, Washington got word of the planned British assault and increased his manpower on Dorchester Heights to nearly 6,000. The memory of heavy British casualties at Bunker Hill also weighed heavily. Dorchester Heights were even stronger and more defensible than Breed’s Hill had been the previous year.
Howe evacuating Boston, courtesy New York Public Library
Facing the prospect of severe losses and an increasingly precarious situation, Howe reconsidered. Negotiations—informal and indirect—suggested that if the British evacuated Boston without destroying the town, American forces would not attack during the withdrawal.
On March 17, 1776, British troops and Loyalists began evacuating the city. More than 11,000 soldiers and nearly 1,000 Loyalists boarded ships and sailed to Halifax, Nova Scotia. The Siege of Boston was over, and the city was firmly in American hands for the remainder of the war.
The occupation of Dorchester Heights marked the first major strategic victory for the Continental Army under Washington’s leadership. It demonstrated the effectiveness of coordinated planning, logistical ingenuity, and the intelligent use of terrain. Rather than launching a costly frontal assault, Washington had leveraged geography and artillery to compel the enemy’s withdrawal.
This victory also boosted American morale at a critical time. The war was far from won—indeed, it would intensify dramatically later in 1776 with British campaigns in New York—but the successful eviction of British forces from Boston showed that the Continental Army could achieve meaningful results.
Moreover, Dorchester Heights solidified Washington’s reputation as a capable commander. His cautious but decisive approach, combined with Knox’s logistical triumph, set a pattern for future operations. The event underscored the importance of high ground in military strategy, a lesson that had already been evident at Bunker Hill but was applied with even greater effect in March 1776.
Dorchester Heights and the 1902 monument today, part of the Boston National Historical Park, courtesy of NPS
Join us this Sunday at 7pm LIVE on our Facebook page as we focus on ERW’s first 2026 book release, The Atlas of Independence: John Adams and the American Revolution by Dr. Chris Mackowski. Mackowski will discuss why Adams led him to write his first “Rev War book” and the much over looked impact Adams had during the war years. We will discuss some of the more “unique” relationships Adams developed through the war time years and of course his friendship with Thomas Jefferson and his close relationship with his wife Abigail.
To order a copy of “Atlas of Independence” visit Savas Beatie’s website at: https://www.savasbeatie.com/ . Again, this will be a LIVE broadcast on our Facebook page, so grab a drink and join in on the chat!
By the summer of 1775, North Carolina’s royal governor, Josiah Martin, was an outcast among the land he presided over. Forced to flee the mainland by Patriot sympathizers, Martin believed his colony was not lost to rebels. His prompting initiated a British expedition to North Carolina and excited the loyalists present there enough to rise up. Descendants of Scottish Highlanders who settled large areas of North Carolina put on their kilts and broadswords and marched for King George III toward Wilmington to the tune of bagpipes.
Patriot regulars from North Carolina stood in their way about 15 miles northeast of Wilmington. On February 27, 1776, the Scots and Tories attacked the North Carolinians behind Moore’s Creek. The brief fight turned out to be another victory for the Patriot cause in the south (preceded by the Battle of Great Bridge). Though small by later standards of the Revolutionary War, the battle received widespread coverage throughout the American colonies. Below is a transcript of one of the earliest newspaper accounts of the Battle of Moore’s Creek Bridge, published on March 15, 1776, in Williamsburg’s Virginia Gazette.
An artist’s depiction of the failed attack at the Battle of Moore’s Creek Bridge
In December 1775, Henry Knox wrote to General George Washington, “I hope in 16 or 17 days to be able to present your Excellency a noble train of artillery”. However, the train of artillery would not arrive until the end of January 1776. Still an impressive feat, as Knox with his team moved 60 tons (119,000 pounds) of artillery over 300 miles from upstate New York to the environs of Boston in 70 days in the midst of winter.
This impressive feat enabled Washington to evict the British from Boston, winning the siege and giving the fledgling rebellion a victory to build momentum from.
To discuss this amazing feat and part of American military history, Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes Dr. Phillip Hamilton, a professor of history at Christopher Newport University. A historian of the American Revolutionary and Early Republican periods, he has edited and written “The Revolutionary War Lives and Letters of Lucy and Henry Knox.”
Although the program is pre-recorded, Emerging Revolutionary War hopes you still tune in on Sunday, February 22 at 7 p.m. EDT. We promise the revelry will be enlightening. If you have any questions, please drop them in the chat during the program, and we will ensure Dr. Hamilton receives them.
It’s hard to overemphasize how important Common Sense was as a tool of persuasion.
Sure, we all know about it. “The idea that Common Sense played a pivotal role in moving the nascent revolutionary movement toward independence is universally acknowledged today,” says historian Jett B. Conner.[1]
Yet I’ve found that, beyond its generally accepted place in American history, most people don’t quite “get” Common Sense. Reading the document today—like anything written 250 years ago—poses a challenge for modern readers. The language doesn’t catch for us the way it did for readers of its time. We aren’t living in the same political context they were. We marinade in a much different, much more immersive media environment. These factors all remove us from the visceral impact Common Sense had.
In the early days of my teaching career, I taught public relations classes. I had been a PR professional prior to that, enticed to the academy, but I wanted my classes to be grounded in the professional standards established by the Public Relations Society of America (PRSA). They had criteria for academic programs that wanted PRSA certification. My university didn’t qualify because we didn’t have a specific major in PR at the time, but I nonetheless used their standards as the model for my classes. One of the standards at the time advocated teaching the history of PR.
Several PR milestones sprang from the political arena: Andrew Jackson’s first use of a press secretary in the White House; Teddy Roosevelt’s bully pulpit; the WWI-era Creel Commission; FDR’s fireside chats; the WWII-era Office of War Information, etc.
Common Sense made the list as the most significant piece of American writing to that point—a track specifically aimed at public persuasion. And boy, did it succeed! “Common Sense was the most radical and important pamphlet written in the American Revolution and one of the most brilliant ever written in the English language,” assesses historian Gordon Wood.[2]
Prior to Common Sense’s publication in January 1776, John Dickinson’s Letters from a Farmer in Pennsylvania in 1767–8 held the record as the most influential piece of public writing. Published in 19 of the 23 major newspapers in the colonies—as well as appearing in England and France—the letters opposed Parliament’s Townsend Acts, which imposed tariffs. Dickinson, a lawyer rather than a farmer, became one of the most famous men in America because of his twelve letters, which did much to unify the colonies in common cause against British taxation.
“Farmer’s Letters captured the spirit of the moment and Americans’ imaginations like nothing before,” says Dickinson biographer Jane E. Calvertt, “selling more copies than any other pamphlet to date. The response was immediate and resounding, going far beyond anything Dickinson could have anticipated.”[3]
Thomas Paine’s Common Sense eclipsed Dickinson exponentially—some 100 times larger, according to historian John Ferling.[4]
Timing helped. Bloodshed on Lexington Green, at the North Bridge in Concord, and all along the road back to Boston added urgency to public discussions. Closure of the port of Boston and the October firebombing of Falmouth, Maine—and the foreboding message it suggested to other colonies—heightened tensions even more. England was no longer some abstract entity across the ocean, but an intrusive force ready to impose its will through violence if necessary. “It was successful because it came precisely the time when people were ready for its message,” says historian Alfred F. Young.[5]
“The suppressed rage that animated Paine’s writing in Common Sense was another important factor in its success,” contends historian Scott Liell, who said “Paine felt, and made his readers feel, ‘wounds of deadly hate.’”[6]
Through 1775, the Continental Congress remained undecided on a course of action, with factions pushing for independence and others pushing for rapprochement. Therefore, news from Philadelphia did little to provide clear guidance for public sentiment.
“[T]he idea of independence was familiar, even among the common people,” John Adams later pointed out.[7] The idea just hadn’t yet crystallized.
Common Sense—first published on January 10, 1776, as a 46-page pamphlet—became that crystal.
“[T]here is something absurd, in supposing a continent to be perpetually governed by an island,” Paine wrote. Paine made such sentiments seem like statements of the obvious. Of course a continent shouldn’t be ruled by an island. Of course one honest man was worth more to society and in the sight of God than all the crowned ruffians that ever lived. Of course.
That was the genius of Paine’s writing.
To read it today, one wouldn’t appreciate how accessible it was to common folks or realize how often people read it aloud in taverns and inns so that even people who could not read could hear its ideas and engage in discussions. A reader today wouldn’t grasp just how hungry readers of 1776 were for Common Sense’s ideas.
“In weighing the influence of a tract, the active role of the reader is often underappreciated,” Young points out.
Reading is an act of volition. A person had to buy the pamphlet; one shilling was cheap as pamphlets went but costly to a common carpenter who might make three shillings a day or to a shoemaker had made even less and out of the question for a common laborer who earned one-eighth of a shilling a day. Or a person had to borrow the pamphlet, seeking out an owner, or respond to someone’s blandishments to read it. When it was read aloud, as it was in taverns and other public places, a person had to make a decision to come to listen or to stay and hear it out.[8]
In other words, readers had to actively want to read it—and they sometimes went to great lengths and expense to do so.
Common Sense sold somewhere around 125,000 copies within its first three months and, within its first six months, went through thirty-five printings—an astounding success considering the population of the American colonies totaled just under 3 million people.[9] A translation appeared for Pennsylvania’s German communities, and editions appeared in England and France.
Sales figures probably only scratch the surface of the pamphlet’s total circulation. “As its reputation and popularity spread,” says historian Scott Liell, “individual copies were read and re-read to countless assembled groups in public houses, churches, army camps, and private parlors throughout the colonies.”[10]
“Its effects were sudden and extensive upon the American mind,” pronounced Philadelphia physician Dr. Benjamin Rush, a friend of Paine’s who had suggested the title. Suddenly, the pearl-clutching in Congress became open, vigorous, public debate. (See Kevin Pawlak’s January 9, 2026 post for more info on the public reactions.) “The controversy about independent was carried into the news papers . . .” Rush recalled. “It was carried on at the same time in all the principal cities in our country.”[11] Indeed, in was in early February 1776 in a New York City bookshop—on his way from Boston to Philadelphia—that Adams first found Common Sense. (Adams would have his own complicated history with the pamphlet, which I’ll explore in a future blog post.)
To this day, Common Sense has never been out of print. It exists today as an icon, a relic, a foundational text we’ve all heard of. We accept its primacy as fact. But few people actually read it, and fewer successfully tune in to its urgency and immediacy. In commemoration of its 250th birthday, I invite you to take a closer look at a document you certainly know and think you know, and see what new sense you may be able to draw from it. (Read it here!)
[1] Jett B. Conner, John Adams vs. Thomas Paine: Rival Plans for the Early Republic (Yardley, PA: Westholme, 2018).
[2] Gordon Wood, “Thomas Paine, America’s First Public Intellectual,” Revolutionary Characters (New York: Penguin, 2006), 209.
[3] Jane E. Calvert, Penman of the Founding: A Biography of John Dickinson (London: Oxford University Press, 2024), 184.
[5] Aldred F. Young, “The Celebration and Damnation of Thomas Paine,” Liberty Tree: Ordinary People and the American Revolution (New York: New York University Press, 2003), 271.
[6] Scott Liell, 46 Pages: Thomas Paine, Common Sense, and the Turning Point to Independence (Philadelphia: Running Press, 2003), 20.
[9] Young says, “Scholars have generally accepted a circulation of 100,000 to 150,000 copies (although none of them make clear how they reached their conclusions).” Liberty Tree, 270.
Virginian Landon Carter was vocal about the latest pamphlet sweeping through the American colonies in 1776. In several diary entries from the first four months of that momentous year, he commented on Common Sense, written anonymously “by an Englishman.” Carter described its contents in February as “rascally and nonsensical as possible, for it was only a sophisticated attempt to throw all men out of principles.” By April, as he continued to criticize the work, he reached a conclusion about its author: “I begin now more and more to see that the pamphlet called Common Sense, supporting independency, is written by a member of the Congress …” Carter could not have been further from the truth.
“An Englishman” was, in fact, an apt description for the author of Common Sense, first advertised to the American public on January 9, 1776, and first released on January 10. Thomas Paine was an Englishman—born there and, by most measures, matured there as a failure. He failed at his corset-making business. Teaching, collecting taxes, privateering, and working as a grocer—none of these occupations suited him either. He married twice (his first wife died in childbirth), and his second marriage collapsed. Amid this string of failures, Paine found success with the written word, which caught Benjamin Franklin’s attention in England in 1774. With little left for him in England, Paine embarked for America, arriving later that year. There, he scraped by as a writer, publishing essays in Philadelphia newspapers.
Join us this Sunday, January 11th at 7pm as we welcome back historian Patrick Hannum as we discuss the events in Virginia after the Battle of Great Bridge. The results of the British loss at Great Bridge had profound impacts on Dunmore’s plans in Virginia which led to the destruction of Virginia’s largest city. Was Norfolk burned by Dunmore as has been popularly understood or is the story more complicated? What became of the former slaves that joined Dunmore’s army? Tune in and learn about the events in Virginia in the winter 1775 – spring 1776. This Revelry is pre-recorded and will be posted to our Facebook page on Jan. 11 at 7pm and also to our You Tube and Spotify channels.
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.
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.“
Emerging Revolutionary War Era 