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
For good reason, much has been done, discussed, developed, and disseminated regarding the voluminous correspondence between Abigail and John Adams. Yet, her spouse was not the only recipient of the wisdom and insight that Abigail possessed. She also became friends with and communicated with Catherine Sawbridge Macaulay Graham in England.
Catharine Sawbridge Macaulay Graham
Graham was a prominent English historian and writer, “at the forefront of radical transatlantic politics in the eighteenth century.” She was a prolific pamphleteer and considered one of England’s first major historians. She was a supporter of and wrote extensively on the American and French Revolutions. Through the cause of the former, she struck up a correspondence with Abigail Adams. Below is a letter from Abigail to Catherine in 1774 that highlights the current events in Massachusetts and also how close the two ladies on either side of the Atlantic Ocean had become in their letter writing. It is truly a remarkable letter that provides emotion and description of a friendship and life in Massachusetts on the cusp of revolution.
Madam
In the last Letter which Mr. Adams had the honour to receive from you, you express a Desire to become acquainted with our American Ladies.1 To them Mrs. Macaulay is sufficiently distinguished by her superior abilities, and altho she who is now ventureing to address her cannot lay claim to eaquil accomplishments with the Lady before introduced,2 yet she flatters herself she is no ways deficient in her esteem for a Lady who so warmly interests herself in the cause of America—a Cause madam which is now become so serious to every American that we consider it as a struggle from which we shall obtain a release from our present bondage by an ample redress of our Grieveances—or a redress by the Sword. The only alternative which every american thinks of is Liberty or Death.
“Tender plants must bend, but when a Goverment is grown to strength like some old oak rough with its armed bark it yealds not to the tug, but only nods and turns to sullen state.”
Should I attempt to discribe to you the complicated misiries and distresses brought upon us by the late inhumane acts of the British parliment my pen would faill me. Suffice it to say, that we are invaded with fleets and Armies, our commerce not only obstructed, but totally ruined, the courts of Justice shut, many driven out from the Metropolis, thousands reduced to want, or dependant upon the charity of their neighbours for a daily supply of food, all the Horrours of a civil war threatning us on one hand, and the chains of Slavery ready forged for us on the other. We Blush when we recollect from whence these woes arise, and must forever execrate the infamous memory of those Men whether they are Americans or Brittons, whose contagious Ambition first opened the pandoraen Box, and wantonly and cruelly scatterd the fatal ingrediants—first taught us filled with grief and anxiety to inquire
Are these thy deeds o Britton? this the praise
That points the growing Lusture of thy Name
These glorious works that in thy [better?] Days
fild the bright period of thine early fame
To rise in ravage and with arm prophane
From freedoms shrine each sacred Gift to rend
and mark the closing annals of thy reign
With every foe subdued, and every Friend.
You will think Madam perhaps from the account I have given you, that we are in great confusion and disorder—but it is far otherways. Tho there are but few who are unfealing or insensible to the general calimity, by far the greater part support it with that firmness, that fortitude, that undaunted resolution which ever attends those who are conscious that they are the injured not the injurer, and that they are engaged in a righteous cause in which they fear not to “bare their bold Breasts and pour their generous Blood.” Altho by the obstruction of publick justice, each individual is left at a loose, to do that which is right in his own Eyes, yet each one strives to shew his neighbour that the restraints of Honour and of conscience are more powerful motives, than the judiciary proceedings of the Law. Notwithstanding the inveterate Malice of our Enimies who are continually representing us, as in a state of anarchy and confusion, torn up with intestine broils, and guilty of continual riots and outrage, yet this people never saw a time of greater peace and harmony among themselves, every one uniting in the common cause, and strengthning each other with inconceivable constancy and sumpathetick ardor.
I mean always to Except those whose venal Souls barter freedom for Gold, and would sell their Country, nay gladly see an innocent land deluged with Blood, if they could riot upon its Spoils, which heaven Avert!—Tis with anxious Hearts and eager expectations that we are now waiting for the result of the united Supplications of America. Yet having so often experienced their Enefficacy we have little reason to hope. We think we have more to expect from the firm and religious observance of the association which accompanied them3—for tho it was formerly the pride and ambition of American[s] to indulge in the fashions and Manufactures of Great Brittain now she threatens us with her chains we will scorn to wear her livery, and shall think ourselves more decently attired in the coarse and plain vestures of our own Manufactury than in all the gaudy trapings that adorn the slave.—Yet connected as we are by Blood, by commerce, by one common language, by one common religion as protestants, and as good and loyal subjects of the same king, we earnestly wish that the three fold cord of Duty, interest and filial affection may not be snapped assunder. Tis like the Gordean knot. It never can be untied, but the sword may cut it, and America if she falls to use the words of the revered and ever honourd Mr. Pitt, will fall like a strong Man, will embrace the pillars of State and pull down the constitution along with her.
I must intreet your pardon Madam for Detaining you so long from the important Services in which you are engaged, but having taken up my pen I could not refrain giving utterance to some of those Emotions which have agitated my Bosom and are the cause of many anxious hours to her who begs leave to subscribe herself Dear Madam your great admirer & humble Servant,
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.
In honor of the 250th anniversary of the Battle of Quebec, we reshare guest historian Scott Patchan’s post on Daniel Morgan during the Canadian Campaign of 1775. This post originally posted in December 2015.
When the situation deteriorated to outright rebellion against the crown, Morgan raised a regiment of crack riflemen from Frederick County, and marched them to Boston in twenty-one days to take part in the siege of Boston. There, he served under his former commander from the French and Indian War, General George Washington. Morgan learned the hard way that orders must be followed. He once allowed his riflemen to exceed orders in firing upon British positions at Boston. Washington called Morgan on the disobedience, and Daniel thought that he would be cashiered from the army. Washington, however, relented the next day, but Morgan had learned a valuable lesson about following orders.
Daniel Morgan in the American Revolution
In the fall of 1775, Washington sent Morgan as commander of three companies of Continental riflemen on a mission to capture Quebec from the British. Morgan’s command marched with the column of Colonel Benedict Arnold. They traversed the Maine wilderness, rowing up stream to the “Great Carrying Place,” where carried their canoes and bateaux for great distances overland to another series of streams and lakes that took them to Quebec. As the cold weather set in, sickness and hunger overtook the column and Arnold sent those unfit for duty back to the rear. After covering 350 miles, the American arrived in front of Quebec in early November, surprising the British.
Although Morgan wanted to attack immediately and utilize the element of surprise, he was overruled and the small American force besieged Quebec, waiting for another column under General Richard Montgomery to arrive from the Hudson Valley. When a British party sallied forth and captured one of Morgan’s riflemen on November 18, Arnold believed the British would come out and fight in the open. As such, Arnold drew up his army in front of the fortifications to meet them. They declined his offer and instead looked down on the ragamuffin Americans from the ramparts and exchanged taunts and catcalls. The overall situation frustrated the irascible Morgan, and when his men complained that Arnold was not giving the riflemen their fair share of rations, the “Old Wagoner” violently argued with Arnold, and nearly came to blows with the future traitor. Morgan departed Arnold, leaving him with angry warning about poor treatment of the riflemen. From that time forward, Morgan’s command always received their fair share of the army’s rations.
Montgomery’s column arrived on December 5, and the Americans commenced setting up his mortars and artillery outside of Quebec. The Americans finally attacked during a snowstorm in the early morning darkness of December 31, but their force numbered only 950 men. Arnold’s column came under fire as it moved toward the ramparts of Quebec, and a musket ball struck Arnold taking him out of action. Although Morgan was not the senior officer, the others insisted that he take command, having seen actual combat which they had not. Morgan later noted that this “reflected credit on their judgment.” At Morgan’s order, his riflemen rushed to the front, armed with both their Pennsylvania rifles and a spontoon for the assault while some carried ladders to storm the walls. They quickly drove a small force of British away and closed in on the walls.
Map of Battle of Quebec, 1775 (courtesy of British Battles)
Morgan ordered the men up the ladders and first one gingerly began the climb. Morgan sensed his hesitancy, pulled him down and scaled it himself, shouting, “Now boys, Follow me!” The men instantly complied, and Morgan reached the top of the wall where a volley of musketry exploded, knocking him back to the snow-covered ground. The burst burnt his hair and blackened his face; one ball grazed his cheek and another pierced his hat; but Morgan was otherwise unhurt. Stunned he laid motionless on the ground for a moment, and the attack stopped, his men thinking him dead. But he soon stirred and clambered up the ladder to the cheers of his men who followed suit. This time he stopped before reaching the top, and hurtled himself over the rampart into the midst of the enemy. He landed on a cannon and injured his back and found British bayonets levelled at him from all directions. While the British focused on Morgan, his riflemen poured over the wall and came to his rescue, driving off Morgan’s would-be impalers. Morgan kept up a close pursuit of the British who offered weak resistance to the attacking riflemen. Although Morgan had broken into Quebec, the main body of Arnold’s division failed to follow the riflemen over the wall and exploit the opportunity at hand. Morgan captured much of the lower portion of Quebec with only two companies of his riflemen. He later described the breakdown that occurred:
“Here, I was ordered to wait for General Montgomery, and a fatal order it was. It prevented me from taking the garrison, as I had already captured half of the town. The sally port through the (second) barrier was standing open; the guard had left it, and the people were running from the upper town in whole platoons, giving themselves up as prisoners to get out of the way of the confusion which might shortly ensue. I went up to the edge of the upper town with an interpreter to see what was going on, as the firing had ceased. Finding no person in arms at all, I returned and called a council of war of what few officers I had with me; for the greater part of our force had missed their way, and had not got into the town. Here I was overruled by sound judgment and good reasoning. It was said in the first place that if I went on I should break orders; in the next, that I had more prisoners than I had men; and that if I left them they might break out and retake the battery we had just captured and cut off our retreat. It was further urged that Gen. Montgomery was coming down along the shore of the St Lawrence, and would join us in a few minutes; and that we were sure of conquest if we acted with caution and prudence. To these good reasons I gave up my own original opinion, and lost the town.”
Montgomery never arrived; he had been killed in the first blast of musketry against his column, and his command broke. As time went on, the British regained their composure and pushed back against Morgan’s command. Morgan went back and brought up 200 New Englanders who joined the riflemen as they attempted to renew the attack. Now, the previously undefended point, was well manned, and daylight illuminated the paucity of Morgan’s numbers. Nevertheless, Morgan pressed them back further into the town to an interior fortification. A brave British officer led a counterattack, but Morgan personally shot him dead and disrupted the assault. Nevertheless, the time for action had passed. The British had become aware that Morgan’s was the only active American force in the city and closed in around him. In the meanwhile, additional British forces reoccupied the gates Morgan had initially taken and trapped him in the city. Morgan had no choice but to surrender his small command.
One artist’s depiction of the Battle of Quebec, 1775. Both forces are wearing blue overcoats. (courtesy of British Battles)
Morgan and the other officers enjoyed a liberal captivity with generous quarters in a seminary. The British officers visited them often and remained on friendly terms with the Americans. Morgan developed a dislike for some of his fellow officers whom he regarded as dishonest and scheming, and his fighting skills were brought to bear on at least one occasion when several men teamed up against big Dan Morgan. The imprisonment ended when the British returned the American officers on September 24, 1776, in New Jersey. Morgan returned to his wife and two daughters at his home outside of Battletown or Berryville, where he awaited his proper exchange. While there, he named his home “Soldier’s Rest,” as he recuperated from the trials of the taxing expedition to Quebec. The war was still young, and the Continental Army would soon be calling upon his services again. A special command of riflemen was being organized and Morgan would be its commander.
As you settle into your winter holidays or looking for one more gift for that history enthusiast on your Christmas list (and speaking for fellow book-lovers, a late Christmas gift book is always appreciated), Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes you to join us for the return of Tom Hand, of AmericanaCorner as he discusses his second volume, America Victorious, Lesser Known Campaigns and Commanders That Helped Win American Independence.
Tom, who created AmericanaCorner in 2020, is a graduate of the United States Military Academy at West Point, Class of 1982, and a lifelong student and enthusiast of American History. He also sits on the Board of Trustees for the American Battlefield Trust.
During the Revelry on Sunday night, at 7 p.m. EDT, a special discount code (we have heard from our sources) will be offered for those interested in purchasing the book. Tom will also discuss upcoming book signings and other happenings at AmericanaCorner.
Tune in and end the weekend (and the last Revelry of 2025) with Emerging Revolutionary War and Tom Hand!
We’re excited to share one of the 2026 new releases in the Emerging Revolutionary War Series. Published by Savas Beatie, a sneak peek, including the cover, is below.
About the Book:
“I wish we could sell them another hill at the same price we did Bunkers Hill,” Nathanael Greene wrote to the governor of Rhode Island after the battle of June 17, 1775.
Actually fought on Breed’s Hill outside Boston, Massachusetts, the battle of Bunker Hill proved a pyrrhic victory for British forces. Confident in their ability to overwhelm the New England militia that opposed them, long lines of neatly uniformed British infantry and marines swept uphill toward a quickly built earthen redoubt defended by a motely collection of farmers, shopkeepers, and tradesmen.
“Don’t fire until you see the whites of their eyes!” the colonials urged each other—or did they?
By the end of the fight, the British gained the summit and Colonial forces scattered. One of the patriot leaders, Dr. Joseph Warren, lay dead—one of the first martyrs of the American Revolution. But for the British, the scene was far, far worse: it would be the greatest number of casualties they would ever suffer in any battle of the American Revolution. As British General Henry Clinton commented afterward, “A few more such victories would have surely put an end to British dominion in America.”
The siege of Boston would continue, but the sobering lesson of Bunker Hill changed British strategy—as did the arrival soon thereafter of a new commander-in-chief of Continental forces: General George Washington.
In A Dear-Bought Victory, historians Daniel T. Davis and Phillip S. Greenwalt separate the facts from the myths as they take readers to the slopes of Breed’s Hill and along the Boston siege lines as they explore a battle that continues to hold a place in popular memory unlike few others.
About the Authors:
Daniel T. Davis is the Senior Education Manager at the American Battlefield Trust. He is a graduate of Longwood University with a bachelor’s degree in public history. Dan has worked as a Ranger/Historian at Appomattox Court House National Historical Park and Fredericksburg and Spotsylvania National Military Park. He is the author or co-author of numerous books on the American Civil War. This is his first co-authored book in the Emerging Revolutionary War Series. Dan is a native of Fredericksburg, Virginia.
Phillip S. Greenwalt is the co-founder of Emerging Revolutionary War and a full-time contributor to Emerging Civil War. He is a graduate of Wheeling Jesuit University with a bachelor’s degree in history along with graduate degrees in American History and International Studies and Leadership from George Mason University and Arizona State University, respectively. He is the author of co-author of seven books on the American Revolutionary and Civil Wars. Phill has worked for the National Park Service for the last 17 years at numerous natural and cultural sites. He is a native of Baltimore, Maryland.
Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back guest historian Avellina Balestri
As I have increased research and work on my American Revolution trilogy All Ye That Pass By, I have noticed a trend towards making this particular season between the anniversary of Nathan Hale’s hanging (September 22, 1776) and John Andre’s hanging (October 2, 1780) into a strange sort of macabre festival I have dubbed “Hangemtide.” I suppose one could consider it a sort of Halloween for historical enthusiasts, as the autumnal chill starts to creep into the air, greenery dies, and horror releases hit the market. But a strange pseudo-religious reality I have observed is a tendency to treat these hangings as secular passion plays of a kind, connected by a secular Advent calendar of daily memorials, with the overarching takeaway being a strange sense of catharsis for the salvation of a newborn nation.
As a Catholic, I very well know the thematic beats, and I can sense them in an unsettling way in these commemorations. We must have our scapegoat; a man, or two, must die so the nation might live in our origin myth. But though the narrative may comfortably place Hale as the first Christ-figure, it uncomfortably assures that Andre is the second. We as the audience, while intended to shed tears for the first, are meant to bay for the blood of the second. Perhaps we may pity him in passing moments, but never so much that we truly desire him to be spared. His death is a foregone conclusion of the ritual which must be affirmed. We are recalling the traditional readings on Passion Sunday, and hardly realize it. We have, perhaps, lost the much greater plot of Christianity, that in the death of each, the other perishes, and in every death, we partake, in the killing and the dying, and in every human catastrophe, there is planted the original Passion Tree, no less in the past than in the present. History is not safe from our iniquity, nor from grace breaking in upon it, oftentimes painfully.
Touching back upon the historical events being remembered according to our national needs, I have often gently chided friends involved in “Hangentide” that I am ever on call to be the defense lawyer Major Andre never got should they wish to shuttle me into the past on circuit. I do not intend to make that defense the core of my current thesis, but put simply, I believe that if he had received a proper legal defense, Andre may well have had his sentence reduced based on extenuating circumstances. But that was not to be, because it could not be, not in the narrative as it is presented to us over and over again. This was a necessary death; a payment to Justice itself. It is language used to mask what was essentially a revenge hanging for both Hale’s execution at the hands of Crown forces and Arnold’s betrayal of the revolution for hard cold coin. The true foundation stone of “Hangemtide” is a satisfaction we are meant to share in nearly 250-year-old retribution. It is meant to, in some way, bring the country together through our most primal tribal instinct. But does it?
Fort Mercer. Fort Mifflin. The Whitemarsh Campaign. Names of battles and maneuvers that “receive but scant attention in the literature of the American Revolution.” Until now. Award-winning author and historian Michael C. Harris returns to Emerging Revolutionary War to discuss his latest book.
Finishing the trilogy, started with Brandywine, continued with Germantown, and now Fighting for Philadelphia. Just released by Savas Beatie this month!
Enjoy this pre-recorded “Rev War Revelry” and get a synopsis of why this book is needed on your bookshelf. Join Emerging Revolutionary War Sunday at 7 p.m. EDT.
Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back Jeffrey Collin Wilford Part I, click here. Part II, click here.
Major Andre’s Reckoning
Along the way from Tarrytown, New York, to West Point, Benjamin Tallmadge conversed almost nonstop with the freshly captured British prisoner John André and learned much about the youthful officer. It was perhaps Major Tallmadge’s background as George Washington’s chief intelligence officer as well as recollections illuminated by the light of André’s charisma, that helped begin to paint a picture of an honorable soldier. After countless hours of conversation during their journey north he became convinced that André’s “Head was in fault, & not his heart.” Tallmadge commented later that André was “a most delectable Companion. It often drew tears from my Eyes to find him so pleasant & agreeable in Conversation on different Subjects, when I reflected on his future fate, & that too, as I believed, so near at hand—” In the short time the two spent together Tallmadge seemed to have grown extremely fond of the British Major.
One can sympathize with Tallmadge’s point of view. After all, André was merely another victim of the traitor Arnold. He had intended to meet him on board the Vulture but when Arnold failed to show he was forced to go ashore with Smith. After the Vulture was scared off by artillery and Arnold convinced him to don civilian clothes, plying him with incriminating materials and sending him through enemy territory, the stage was set. In his testimony, he said it was General “Clinton’s directions not to go within an Enemy post or to quit my own dress.“ Even so, by his own admission, it was the ruling of the military Proceedings that “he changed his Dress within our Lines and under a feigned Name and in a Disguished [sic].”
Perhaps Tallmadge’s sympathies toward André were accentuated by his hatred for Arnold. Tallmadge’s characterization of André becomes clearer in a simple personal act from his testimony when he stated that “André kept reviewing his shabby Dress, & finally remarked to me that he was positively ashamed to go to the Head Qrs of the American Army in such a plight. I called my Servant, & directed him to bring my Dragoon Cloak, which I presented to André. This he refused to take for some time, but I insisted on it, & he finally put it on & rode in it to Tappan.”
By the time they made Tappan, André was under heavy guard and imprisoned at Mabie’s Tavern. Just a few hundred feet away, Washington convened 14 of his top military officers who, over two days of testimony, found André guilty and sentenced him to death. On October 1st André personally requested from Washington the honor of a firing squad over a “gibbet.” Knowing the favor could not be granted, Washington opted to ignore the request.
On October 2nd, just before noon, André appeared on the stoop of Mabie’s Tavern. Four officers were present to escort the convicted spy to his final judgment. One of the four officers was Captain Lieutenant John Van Dyk, with just six months separating this moment from his own capture by the British off the coast of New Jersey. “There were about six steps which led into the stoop of the house, on the light of these, one American officer with myself were standing when Major André came out of the front door of the house in regimentals, hooking his arm with the two American officers (his attendants) one on his right and left. He ran down the steps of the stoop as quickly and lively as though no execution was to take place, and immediately fell into the centre of the guard, a place assigned him.”
André exits Mabie’s Tavern on the day of execution. (copyright: New York Public Library)
Escorting André with his four guards was also Major Benjamin Tallmadge. “I walked with him to the place of execution, and parted with him under the gallows, entirely overwhelmed with Grief, that so gallant an officer, & so accomplished a Gentleman should come to such an ignominious End.” Echoing that sentiment in writing nine days after his execution was Alexander Hamilton, saying “Never perhaps did any man suffer death with more justice, or deserve it less.”
Mabie’s Tavern today (Wilford)
When André had turned the corner to see the gallows before him, Van Dyk recorded his statement. “Gentlemen, I am disappointed, I expected my request…would have been granted.” According to Van Dyk, preparations were made and André’s final words when asked if he had any were “I have nothing more to say, gentlemen, but this, you all bear me witness, that I meet my fate as a brave man.” With that came the untimely end of Major John André who was then cut down and not allowed to fall to the ground and “every attention and respect was paid to Major André that it is possible to pay a man in his situation.” He was placed in a simple coffin and buried in a shallow grave close to the site. Over the following 40 years, a peach tree grew above the grave, ostensibly from a peach given to André by a woman as he marched to his execution.
When the Duke of York requested the return of his remains in 1821 it was not without fear of a backlash, specifically from the residents of Tappan. Many felt it was an affront to the memory of George Washington. British consul James Buchanan found that the protestations dissipated quickly after he agreed to buy those who were against the idea a drink at the local inn. The bones were then dug up with the root of the peach growing through the skull’s eye socket. They were placed in a mahogany ossuary and shipped by way of a British mail ship called a packet to New York City where they awaited their return to London.
Captain, now Colonel, John Van Dyk, 67 years old and working for the New York Customs House near the docks of the North (Hudson) River heard about the impending exhumation and, using his connections with influential New Yorker John Pintard, requested a dialog with Buchanan. Through the British consul, he obtained a penned introduction to the captain of the packet where André’s bones lay. Van Dyk made his way to the North River and found the captain just leaving to go back aboard the packet. Upon handing him the introduction from Buchanan, the captain requested that he return at 10 o’clock the following morning and a barge would be waiting to take him to the ship.
Coincidentally, that same day Dr. Valentine Mott, considered by many to be the greatest surgeon of his time, was treating one of Van Dyk’s children and heard of Van Dyk’s plan. Naturally, he was invited along for the next morning’s visit. That day, the two reached the docks just before 10 o’clock and met the barge which took them to the ship. “We went together on board the Packet. The bones were in a superb urn, and we were permitted to handle them. I mentioned the circumstances, as I have related them above, to the Captain [about André’s execution] — bid him goodbye, and we came on shore.” Van Dyk’s motivations for wanting to visit the remains of André are lost to history and probably best understood by those who experienced the emotions of that fateful day in American history.
Amidst a boat of mail destined for England, John André left New York for the last time, traveling back to London where his remains were repatriated. His ossuary was emptied of its contents and his remains were buried in Westminster Abbey with the inscription “universally beloved and esteemed by the Army in which he served, and lamented even by his foes, now lay alongside medieval kings, Renaissance statesmen, and Georgian poets.” Arnold and his wife Peggy lived the rest of their lives post-Revolution in London, reviled by most, and are buried just 3 miles away at St. Mary’s Church in Battersea, in a vault that sits behind a wall in a basement kindergarten classroom.
[Original source: The Papers of George Washington, Revolutionary War Series, vol. 28, 28 August–27 October 1780, edited by William M. Ferraro and Jeffrey L. Zvengrowski, 291–296. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2020.]
[Original source: The Papers of George Washington, Revolutionary War Series, vol. 28, 28 August–27 October 1780, edited by William M. Ferraro and Jeffrey L. Zvengrowski, 277–283. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2020.]
[Original source: The Papers of George Washington, Revolutionary War Series, vol. 22, 1 August–21 October 1779, edited by Benjamin L. Huggins, 745–746. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2013.]
[Original source: The Papers of George Washington, Revolutionary War Series, vol. 28, 28 August–27 October 1780, edited by William M. Ferraro and Jeffrey L. Zvengrowski, 303–311. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2020.]
Van Dyk, John. “Major André, Letter of Col. Van Dyk to John Pintard, August 27, 1821.” Historical Magazine 7, no. 8 (August 1863): 250-252.
Van Dyk, John. “Major André.” Martinsburg Gazette, August 20, 1835.
Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back guest historian Eric Wiser
On August 4, 1735 printer John Peter Zenger was acquitted of seditious libel in a dramatic trial before a crowded courtroom in New York’s City Hall. Zenger languished nine months in jail before his acquittal for “printing and publishing a false, scandalous and seditious libel, in which His Excellency the Governor of this Province, who is the King’s immediate representative…” Zenger’s odds were long given New York Supreme Court’s disbarment of his original attorneys in the pre-trial stage. Aggrieved Royal Gov. William Cosby had a legitimate claim under English Common Law that he was seditiously libeled.[1]
Zenger’s fame as an early martyr of freedom of the press is well known. In terms of America’s founding, it’s difficult to imagine independence without the dissemination of ideas through pamphlets and newspapers. Benjamin Franklin, a printer himself whose own brother James was imprisoned by authorities in Massachusetts a decade before Zenger, commented on freedom of the press: “This sacred Privilege is so essential to free Governments, that the Security of Property, and the Freedom of Speech always go together; and in those wretched Countries where a Man cannot call his Tongue his own, he can scarce call any Thing else his own.”[2]
Despite being thirty-years before the Stamp Act of 1765, the Zenger trial and political conditions surrounding it have seedlings sprouting growth in the Revolution. The substance of these can be traced to the colonial grievances inspired by acts of Parliament which in turn became articulated in the Declaration of Independence. Factionalism between supporters of Crown representatives and those opposed was present in the Zenger episode in nascent form. The rhetoric expressed by Zenger’s attorneys is indistinguishable from the much of the lofty language in the Revolution less “independence.”
Emerging Revolutionary War Era 