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.

John Adams and the Rubicon of Lexington/Concord

“[T]he Battle of Lexington on the 19th of April, changed the Instruments of Warfare from the Penn to the Sword,” John Adams wrote years after the event. He was well acquainted with the pen as an instrument of warfare. By the spring of 1775, he was twelve letters into a thirteen-letter volley that would become known as the “Novanglus letters”—a series that appeared in the Boston Gazette starting January 23.[1]

The final of those letters appeared, by happenstance, on April 19—the same day as the battles of Lexington and Concord. The thirteenth letter of the series never appeared because of the suspension of printing in Massachusetts following the battle.[2]

Adams was, at the time of the battle, preparing to return to Philadelphia for the next session of the Continental Congress. Before his departure, however, he resolved to ride out to the battlefield so he could see with his own eyes the results of the bloodshed that had occurred. He felt it would make him a more reliable witness when he reported on the event to Congress.

On April 22, Adams rode by horseback from his home in Quincy to Cambridge, where the local militia had concentrated. There, Adams met with military leaders, generals Artemis Ward, William Heath, and Joseph Warren. He also informally inspected the troops, “the New England Army,” as he characterized them.[3]

“There was great Confusion and much distress,” Adams recounted: “Artillery, Arms, Cloathing were wanting and a sufficient Supply of Provisions not easily obtained. Neither the officers nor Men however wanted Spirits or Resolution.”

But how long would such spirit and resolve last, Adams wondered? This questions would inform his strategy when he eventually arrived in Philadelphia.

From Cambridge, Adams rode west toward “Lexington and along the Scene of Action for many miles. . . .” Rubble from the battle still laid strewn along the road from Concord to Lexington and from Lexington back into Boston—a route Adams traced in reverse. He did not write down details of what he saw, but they made a deep impression, as would soon become evident in his attitudes about independence.

To help make sense of what he saw, he “enquired of the Inhabitants” about “the Circumstances” of the battle. “These were not calculated to diminish my Ardour in the Cause,” he admitted. “They on the Contrary convinced me that the Die was cast, the Rubicon passed, and as Lord Mansfield expressed it in Parliament, if We did not defend ourselves they would kill Us.”

Just after his visit to the battlefield, illness debilitated Adams, which delayed his departure for Congress. He did manage to catch up to his fellow delegates en route. Along the way, they saw first-hand how the events at Lexingon and Concord had galvanized public opinion, although it would yet be some months before Congress itself followed public opinion.

But for Adams, events had indeed crossed the Rubicon. He began his unceasing, inexorable push toward independence.

Yet it was a two-pronged approach for Adams, who not only operated on that larger existential level but also on a more immediate, pragmatic one. After all, the sword, not the pen, was now the main weapon. He began advocating for measures that would transform “the New England Army” into a Continental one. His nomination of George Washington to lead the fledgling force, for example, was a masterful stroke to diversify the army and, thus, ensure more colonies had skin in the game.

Congress’s slow pace toward independence would frustrate Adams almost to no end over the fifteen months that would follow. However, the bloodshed of Lexington and Concord made an impression on Adams that would drive him onward, inexorably, toward July 1776 and beyond.


[1] For more on the exchange between Adams and Daniel “Massachusettensis” Leonoard, see https://www.masshist.org/publications/adams-papers/view?&id=PJA02dg5.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Quote from Adams come from John Adams autobiography, part 1, “John Adams,” through 1776, sheet 18 of 53 [electronic edition]. Adams Family Papers: An Electronic Archive. Massachusetts Historical Society. http://www.masshist.org/digitaladams/

“The Robin Hood of the American Revolution” Walt Disney’s The Swamp Fox

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes guest historian Tom Elmore. Brief bio is at the bottom of the post.

When Walt Disney’s Disneyland anthology series, featuring shows inspired by the themes of the park’s sections, debuted in 1954 it ended the television season at #6 in the Nielsen television ratings and improved to #4 the next season. Much of that success was due to the Davey Crocket episodes, one of the first major television phenomena.[1]

But the series dropped to #14 in the third season and was out of the top twenty in the fourth and fifth seasons. The American Broadcasting Company (ABC) which carried the program, renamed Walt Disney Presents, pressured Disney to come up with another Crockett and more westerns which made up most of the top 20.[2]

Disney later complained that “I found myself in a straightjacket. I no longer had the freedom of action…They kept insisting that I do more and more westerns and my show became loaded…with every western myth.” Consequently, relations between Disney and ABC became strained.[3]

Disney turned to one of his passions, American history, to create a series based on the partisan leader, General Francis Marion, “the Swamp Fox,” who harassed British troops in South Carolina during the American Revolution.[4]

Continue reading ““The Robin Hood of the American Revolution” Walt Disney’s The Swamp Fox”

“never heard anything more infamously insolent” Loyalist and British response to Patrick Henry’s famous speech

Patrick Henry’s famous speech, delivered on March 23, 1775, before the Virginia Convention at St. John’s Church in Richmond, has become one of the most iconic calls to action in American history. His fiery declaration—“Give me liberty, or give me death!”—was a passionate plea for resistance against British tyranny and a rallying cry for colonial unity in the face of increasing oppression. While Patrick Henry’s speech electrified the American colonies and inspired many to embrace the revolutionary cause, Great Britain’s response to such sentiments, and to the broader colonial rebellion, was both dismissive and aggressive. The British government’s approach to colonial dissent during this period sheds light on their underestimation of the revolutionary movement and the rigidity of their imperial policies.

At the time of Henry’s speech, tensions between Great Britain and its American colonies had been escalating for over a decade. Following the French and Indian War (1754–1763), Britain sought to tighten its control over its colonies and recover war debts by imposing taxes such as the Stamp Act (1765) and the Townshend Acts (1767). These measures were deeply unpopular among colonists, who argued that taxation without representation was a violation of their rights. The colonies’ resistance to British authority—through boycotts, protests, and the formation of groups like the Sons of Liberty—was met with increasing hostility from Britain. By 1775, the situation had deteriorated to the brink of open conflict.

From the British perspective, Patrick Henry’s speech, and similar revolutionary rhetoric, would have been seen as treasonous and inflammatory. The British government viewed the colonies not as equal partners in the empire but as subordinate territories meant to serve the interests of the Crown. Henry’s call to arms was a direct challenge to this hierarchical structure, and British officials were likely to dismiss it as the rantings of a radical minority. However, the speech also highlighted the growing unity and resolve among the colonists, which British leaders largely failed to grasp. This underestimation of colonial sentiment was one of the key reasons why Britain’s response to the American Revolution was ultimately ineffective. Loyalist James Parker wrote ““You never heard anything more infamously insolent than P. Henry’s speech: he called the K—— a Tyrant, a fool, a puppet, and a tool to the ministry,”

The British response to colonial dissent, including the sentiments expressed in Henry’s speech, was characterized by a combination of punitive measures and military force. In the years leading up to the speech, Britain had already implemented harsh policies, such as the Coercive Acts (1774), known in the colonies as the Intolerable Acts. These laws were designed to punish Massachusetts for the Boston Tea Party and to reassert British authority over the colonies. Instead of quelling dissent, these measures only served to galvanize colonial resistance and unify the colonies against British rule.

St. John’s Church, ca 1865 – courtesy Library of Congress

After Henry’s speech, Britain’s strategy remained focused on suppressing the rebellion through force rather than addressing the colonies’ grievances. By April 1775, just weeks after Henry’s address, British troops marched to Lexington and Concord to seize colonial military supplies, leading to the first battles of the Revolutionary War. This military action demonstrated Britain’s refusal to engage in meaningful dialogue with the colonies and its commitment to maintaining control through coercion. Though considered by many as a spark of revolution, Henry’s motion and speech did not reach Great Britain until after the fighting broke out at Lexington and Concord. Though combined, hearing Virginia’s martial push with rebellion in New England proved this was not a localized issue.

One of the reasons Britain failed to adequately respond to the ideological challenge posed by Henry’s speech was its inability to understand the depth of colonial dissatisfaction. British officials often dismissed colonial leaders as self-interested agitators and underestimated the widespread support for revolutionary ideas. This miscalculation led to a reliance on military solutions, which further alienated the colonies and made reconciliation increasingly unlikely.

In addition to military measures, Britain attempted to divide the colonies and weaken their resolve. Propaganda campaigns and offers of pardons were used to sway public opinion and encourage loyalty to the Crown. However, these efforts were largely unsuccessful, as revolutionary leaders like Patrick Henry were able to inspire unity and resilience among the colonists.

Ultimately, Britain’s response to the sentiments expressed in Patrick Henry’s “Give me liberty, or give me death” speech reflected a broader pattern of misjudgment and inflexibility. By dismissing the legitimate grievances of the colonies and relying on punitive measures and military force, Britain failed to address the underlying causes of the American Revolution. Henry’s speech symbolized the growing determination of the American colonies to fight for their independence, and Britain’s inability to adapt to this reality ensured that conflict was inevitable. In the end, Henry’s passionate plea for liberty became a rallying cry for a new nation, while Britain’s response marked the beginning of its eventual loss of the American colonies.

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”

Letter From the Front: December 5, 1775


Before Quebec

5th December 1775

May it please your Excellency [General Washington]

My last of the 20th ultimo from Point aux Trembles, advising of my retiring from before Quebec, make no Doubt your Excellency has received. I continued at Point aux Trembles until the 3rd Instant, when to my great Joy General Montgomery joined us with Artillery and about 300 Men. Yesterday we arrived here, and are making all possible Preparation to attack the City, which has a wretched motley Garrison of disaffected Seamen, Marines & Inhabitants, the Walls in a ruinous Situation, & cannot hold out long. Inclosed is a Return of my Detachment amounting to 675 Men, for whom, I have received Cloathing of General Montgomery. I hope there will soon be Provision made for paying the Soldiers Arrearages, as many of them have Families, who are in Want. A continual Hurry has prevented my sending a Continuation of my Journal. I am with very great Respect Your Excellency’s Most obedient humble servant

Benedict Arnold

“To George Washington from Colonel Benedict Arnold, 5 December 1775,” Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Washington/03-02-02-0445. [Original source: The Papers of George Washington, Revolutionary War Series, vol. 2, 16 September 1775 – 31 December 1775, ed. Philander D. Chase. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1987, p. 495.]

“Rev War Revelry” Author Matthew E. Reardon, “A Traitor’s Homecoming…”

Although 1781 is most known for the pivotal and successful victory at Yorktown, action in the American Revolution unfolded throughout the eastern seaboard. In early September 1781, Benedict Arnold returned to the land of his birth to lead a raid on New London and the port that harbored preying privateers.

During this raid, the American militia under Lieutenant Colonel William Ledyard especially, stoutly defended Fort Griswold until overcome by superior numbers. The town of New London was also torched and saw a rarity like the battle of Trenton, in that combatants fought through the very streets of the town.

Capturing all this and uncovering new primary sources, Matthew Reardon weaves a narrative that balances military history, from the fighting to the strategies, with the impact on New London and Connecticut. His book, “The Traitor’s Homecoming, Benedict Arnold’s Raid on New London, Connecticut, September 4 – 13, 1781” was recently published by Savas Beatie, LLC. Matthew is a native of northeastern Connecticut and is a public educator along with being a command historian for the Connecticut Military Department. He can be reached for inquiries on speaking engagements or how to purchase the book here.

The book will be the focus of this week’s “Rev War Revelry.” We hope you can join us on our Facebook page on Sunday, 7 p.m. EDT.

*Note*
This “Rev War Revelry” will be recorded in advance as the Emerging Revolutionary War crew will be in Lexington and Concord, Massachusetts for the 4th Annual Emerging Revolutionary War bus tour.

John Adams Goes to Catholic Mass

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back guest historian Evan Portman

Two future presidents walk into a Catholic church.

No, that’s not the beginning of a bad historical joke. It’s what happened on October 9, 1774, when George Washington and John Adams wandered into Old St. Mary’s Catholic Church while serving as delegates to the First Continental Congress in Philadelphia.

In September 1774, delegates from twelve of the thirteen colonies convened in Philadelphia for the purpose of discussing a response to Parliament’s recent Intolerable Acts. But after a month of debating (and bickering), Adams wrote that “the Business of the Congress is tedious, beyond Expression.”[1] Seeking a break from the monotony, Adams and Washington ventured to one of the oldest Catholic churches in the colonies. Established in 1763 by parishioners of Old St. Joseph’s, St. Mary’s Church grew from the need for a Catholic cemetery.

“[L]ed by Curiosity and good Company I strolled away to Mother Church or rather Grandmother Church, I mean the Romish Chappell,” Adams wrote to his wife Abigail that day.[2] The church stood just a few blocks south of the Congress’s meeting place at Carpenters’ Hall and starkly contrast anything the Protestant Adams had seen before. A descendant of some of America’s early Puritans, Adams was raised in the Congregational church of Braintree, Massachusetts, where “unfettered daylight through clear window glass allowed for no dark or shadowed corners, no suggestion of mystery.”[3] Old St. Mary’s could not have been more different. Light poured through several stained-glass windows before a large, ornate altar, behind which hung a dramatic depiction of Christ’s passion while burning candles and incense lit the nave.

Adams’s puritanical upbringing taught him to abhor such pageantry in the house of the Lord. He looked with pity upon “the poor Wretches, fingering their Beads, chanting Latin, not a Word of which they understood, their Pater Nosters and Ave Maria’s.” Even “their holy Water—their Crossing themselves perpetually—their Bowing to the Name of Jesus, wherever they hear it” appalled the young lawyer from Boston.[4]

Despite his disdain, some elements of the mass impressed and even moved, Adams. He described the priest’s homily as a “good, short, moral Essay upon the Duty of Parents to their Children, founded in Justice and Charity, to take care of their Interests temporal and spiritual.” Its brevity stood in stark contrast to the long-winded sermons of the Great Awakening, with which Adams would likely have been familiar. Even the priest’s flashy garments were noteworthy to the future president. “The Dress of the Priest was rich with Lace—his Pulpit was Velvet and Gold,” Adams noted.[5]

But most noteworthy of all was the “Picture of our Saviour in a Frame of Marble over the Altar at full Length upon the Cross, in the Agonies, and the Blood dropping and streaming from his Wounds.” That combined with the organ music, which Adams described as “most sweetly and exquisitely” was enough to move him. “This Afternoons Entertainment was to me, most awfull and affecting,” he confessed. But in the eighteenth century, the word “awful” did not mean what it does today. Adams quite literally meant that he was “full of awe” in observing the mass. He was so moved, in fact, that he wondered how “Luther ever broke the spell” of Catholicism.[6]

Perhaps Adams’s experience that day, 250 years ago, is indicative of the Revolution at large, as it brought together men from disparate backgrounds and regions. As a young man in Braintree, Adams likely never imagined he could be moved by a “papist ceremony,” nor could he probably have imagined signing his name on a document securing independence from his former country. In this way, the American Revolution made fantasy a reality, and the impossible, possible.


[1]“John Adams to Abigail Adams, 9 October 1774,” Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Adams/04-01-02-0111. [Original source: The Adams Papers, Adams Family Correspondence, vol. 1, December 1761 May 1776, ed. Lyman H. Butterfield. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1963, pp. 166–167.]

[2] Ibid.

[3] David McCullough, John Adams, (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2001), 84.

[4] “John Adams to Abigail Adams, 9 October 1774,” Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Adams/04-01-02-0111. [Original source: The Adams Papers, Adams Family Correspondence, vol. 1, December 1761 May 1776, ed. Lyman H. Butterfield. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1963, pp. 166–167.]

[5] Ibid.

[6] Ibid.

“War! war! war! was the cry” The 250th Anniversary of the Powder Alarm

On September 1, 1774 Massachusetts was on the brink of war. General Thomas Gage, now Governor of Massachusetts was growing more worried about Whig access to gunpowder and weapons. He made a fateful decision to send a small expedition to retrieve the provincial powder stored in Charlestown. This powder in Gages’ mind, was owned by the King. Local leaders felt otherwise and now this grab for powder by Gage nearly sparked war in 1774.

As word of the Boston Tea Party reached the other colonies, the response was mixed. Most colonists believed Bostonians should pay for the ruined tea, but they were also overwhelmingly shocked by the harshness of the Coercive Acts. Support from across the 13 colonies began to pour into Boston. Using an already established “Committee of Correspondence” network created in the early 1770s, colonial leaders began to discuss a proper reaction. Boycotts on imports of British goods and tea especially were accepted broadly. But most importantly, 12 colonies (Georgia abstained) sent representatives to a “Continental Congress” in Philadelphia in September 1774. Unlike the previous Stamp Act Congress, the First Continental Congress was attended by the majority of American colonies. The Congress encouraged boycotts and also petitioned the King and Parliament to rescind the Coercive Acts. In response to their planned attendance, Governor Gage dissolved the Massachusetts Provincial Assembly before the Continental Congress met and called for new elections. This did not deter them from sending representatives (John Adams, Samuel Adams, Thomas Cushing, and Robert Treat Paine) to Philadelphia.

Charlestown (now Somerville) Powder House, ca. 1935

Back in Massachusetts, Gage became wearier of his situation and the possibility of open conflict with colonists. He was active in paying informants and gaining information from local Tories (those loyal to the British government). These sources informed Gage that the people of the countryside were beginning to arm themselves. In an effort to deny them use of the official Royal arms and powder stored across the colony, he began to collect these government-owned supplies. In colonial America, most men served in the local militia. Local towns had powder magazines to store the powder that would be used for training the militia or if the militia was called to defend a portion of the colony. Many of these powder magazines also stored a portion of gunpowder that belonged to the colonial government—the King’s powder.

Carpenters Hall, Philadelphia where the First Continental Congress convened on September 5, 1774.

“When the horrid news was brought here of the bombardment of Boston, which made us completely miserable for two days, we saw proofs of both the sympathy and the resolution of the continent. War! war! war! was the cry, and it was pronounced in a tone which would have done honor to the oratory of a Briton or a Roman. If it had proved true, you would have heard the thunder of an American Congress.”

Gage, somewhat shaken by the event, began to concentrate his military strength in the city of Boston and fortified the city against a possible attack. He sent word to England that he needed more men to enforce the Coercive Acts. The “Powder Alarm” proved that, within a day, thousands of armed colonials could assemble. The message he sent London shocked the King: “If you think ten thousand men sufficient, send twenty; if one million is thought enough, give two.” Soon after on September 9th, Whig (Patriot) leaders such as Dr. Joseph Warren and others passed the Suffolk Resolves. These strongly worded resolves called for a boycott of British goods and heavily impacted policies adopted by the First Continental Congress. Parliament badly miscalculated the colonial reaction to the Coercive Acts and the pendulum was beginning to swing to independence. The Powder Alarm quickly taught General Gage that the resistance to Royal authority was not just a small group of rebels, but a growing majority of the population.

You can still today visit the the famous Powder House today. It stands in Nathan Tufts Park at 850 Broadway, Somerville, Massachusetts (GPS: N 42.400675, W 71.116998). There is plenty of street parking available. Take the trails in the park to the Powder House located in the center of the park.

Jefferson and Weedon

Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back guest historian Michael Aubrecht

In 1777 Thomas Jefferson and a committee of revisors came to the City of Fredericksburg for the purpose of revising several Virginia statutes. This led to Jefferson drafting the Virginia Statute for Religious Freedom.

When Jefferson and his comrades arrived in Fredericksburg they were met with a town bristling with military activity. Troops were drilling in the public square and filled the crowded streets, buildings and shops. Awaiting travel orders were the men of the Second Virginia and the Seventh Virginia, ordered here on January 9 for a rendezvous just prior to marching to join General Washington at the front. By the time Jefferson arrived in Fredericksburg, sixty of the more than two hundred battles and skirmishes of the war had already taken place.

Continue reading “Jefferson and Weedon”