On November 19, 1794, John Jay, representing George Washington’s administration, affixed his signature to a document bearing his name in history. The Jay Treaty. Although the official name of the pact was “The Treaty of Amity, Commerce, and Navigation, Between His Britannic Majesty and the United States of America.”
The treaty’s aim was to resolve outstanding issues from the conclusion of the American Revolutionary War and facilitate economic trade. Although some of the clauses were not fulfilled completely and another war, the War of 1812, erupted because of it, the treaty did serve a purpose. The agreement ushered in a decade of trade between the two countries and gave the fledgling nation a chance to gain footing, a major concern for George Washington, as first president. The treaty also cemented the promise that Great Britain would vacate the forts in the Northwest Territory and agreed to arbitration on the boundary between Canada and the United States and the pre-American Revolutionary War debt.
Yet, the treaty was divisive. Even Jay remarked that he could find his way in the dead of night by the illumination of his own effigy. The treaty angered the French as that country was amid its revolutionary throes, and bitterly divided the nation. Out of it came the separation into two political parties, the Federalists, who supported the treaty, and the Democratic-Republicans who stood opposed to it.
The treaty was ratified by the Senate on June 24, 1795, with an exact two-thirds majority, 20 to 10 along with being passed by William Pitt the Younger, prime minister of Great Britain and his government, and took effect on February 29, 1796.
Historian Joseph Ellis wrote that the Jay Treaty was “a shrewd bargain for the United States” and “a precocious preview of the Monroe Doctrine.” As one of Washington’s most fervent wishes, the treaty “postponed war with England until America was economically and politically more capable of fighting one.”
Valley Forge consists of acres of undulating countryside where General George Washington and some 11,000 Continental Army troops spent the winter of 1777-1778. Today, it is one of the nation’s most hallowed shrines. Few, if any, modern visitors recognize the woman who fought to save it, nor her heroic work as a nurse during the American Civil War.
Anna Morris Ellis was born in Muncy, Pennsylvania, on April 9, 1824. On September 26, 1848, she married William Hayman Holstein. At 38 years old, Anna became involved in the Union army’s war effort during the American Civil War after the battle of Antietam in September 1862. Her husband returning home after serving a 90-day enlistment, told of wounded men lying in barns and fields around Sharpsburg, Maryland because there weren’t enough medical corpsmen. Despite an overhaul to the Union Army of the Potomac’s Medical Department by Dr. Jonathan Letterman earlier that summer, the combined evacuation of the Virginia Peninsula from their failed late spring and summer campaigns and the Second Manassas campaign outside of Washington, D.C. in August had left this medical department in a state of chaos, confusion, and wholly unprepared to meet the medical needs of such another large scale engagement as Antietam. Anna and her husband William immediately left for the Antietam battlefield in response to the distressing scenes he had painted for her.
Anna Morris Ellis Holstein
The Holstein’s served for months around the Antietam battlefield, caring for the sick and wounded. Their role as post-battle caretakers continued just a month after the battle of Gettysburg when the large army field hospital of Camp Letterman opened just east of the borough on the York Road. This time, however, Anna was already numbed to the scenes of shattered limbs and the despondently ill wearied from disease. By this time her husband had secured a position with the U.S. Sanitary Commission which also setup at Gettysburg to aid the wounded and sick in the wake of the battle. That agency, along with the U.S. Christian Commission, offered supplies and personages to aid in the aftermath of not only Gettysburg, but other battles in the final years of the war.
Anna’s role for caring for those soldiers left behind by both armies was significant. She was made matron-in-chief of Camp Letterman by Dr. Cyrus Nathaniel Chamberlain, which, under her and Chamberlain’s care, attended to over 3,000 wounded soldiers. Anna continued to work at Camp Letterman until it closed on November 19, 1863. Later that day, both her and her husband sat on the platform near Abraham Lincoln while he delivered the Gettysburg Address. Following her work at Gettysburg, Anna continued to nurse the sick and wounded back to health. By the end of the Civil War in 1865 and into 1866, she worked as a matron in a hospital in Annapolis, Maryland, caring for returned prisoners of war that were sick or wounded.
In the post Civil War years, Anna turned to the preservation of the places and material culture from America’s first war for independence. She was no stranger to the importance of this era and the necessity of keeping the memory of those that served during that turbulent era alive for future generations. Anna’s great-grandfather was Capt. Samuel Morris. Morris was the captain of the First City Troop of Philadelphia when it served as George Washington’s body guard. Captain Morris was with Washington during the Ten Crucial Days and was on the field him at the battles of Trenton and Princeton. Morris even earned the sobriquet as leader of the “fighting Quakers.” Anna’s grandfather, Richard Wells, also served the American cause. He was commissioned to provision the U.S. fleet on the Delaware River during the revolutionary war.
One of her first missions was to save and restore George Washington’s Virginia estate, Mount Vernon. The home had fallen into significant disrepair, with the recent war years only aiding to its material decay. Both Anna and her husband, who also had strong ancestral ties to the War for Independence, were among the first to promote the struggles at Mount Vernon, the necessity for saving it, and the fundraising to back those plans. It was her skills in fundraising so successfully for Mount Vernon that led her to be named as regent for the Valley Forge Centennial and Memorial Association. Anna also was one of the founders, and also named regent as well, of the Valley Forge Chapter of the D.A.R.
By 1878, The Centennial and Memorial Association of Valley Forge, was incorporated in Montgomery County, Pennsylvania. Once incorporated, she led the charge as regent to save, acquire, restore and preserve General Washington’s Valley Forge Headquarters and surrounding acreage as parcels became available. Much needed funds for this charge would be needed, however. On June 19, 1878, to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the Continental Army marching out of Valley Forge, the Association held a large, organized event. With the funds generated from the anniversary commemoration, the Association was able to not only purchase General Washington’s Headquarters, but also additional acreage around the farm complex. They were also able to purchase original artifacts to place in the home, begin renovations to restore the home back to its 1777-78 appearance, and plant a tree from Washington’s Mt. Vernon on the property.
By 1893, when the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania assumed control of the camp sites and headquarters at Valley Forge, with Anna credited as the person “to whom the Nation is indebted more than any other” for her tireless efforts to ensure this national shrine was preserved and protected in perpetuity. Decades later, the National Park Service would assume ownership and operational leadership of the park from the state of Pennsylvania.
Anna and William’s home still stands in King of Prussia, Pennsylvania today at 211 Henderson Road. In 2021 the Pennsylvania Historical and Museum Commission placed a marker at the entrance drive to the home. Anna’s work at saving material culture from the Revolutionary War and ensuring the legacy of the veterans of that conflict lived on was vast. Hopefully this small summation of her activities inspires others to dig deeper into her efforts.
For this week’s “Rev War Revelry” Emerging Revolutionary War ventures to the west to discuss the recently published book, “Till the Extinction of this Rebellion, George Rogers Clark, Frontier Warfare, and the Illinois Campaign of 1778-1779.” The author, Eric Sterner, is a contributor to the Emerging Revolutionary War, along with the author of An Anatomy of a Massacre: The Destruction of Gnadenhutten, 1782. When not writing history, Sterner had a career in government and public policy besides contributing to the literature and study of the American Revolutionary War era.
This book, published by Westholme Publishing, examines the viewpoints of the American, British, and Indigenous perspectives and illustrates the wide impact of the American Revolution on the peoples west of the Appalachian Mountains. What happened with Clark’s movements and campaign will lay the foundation for American expansion and the “opening of the West” following the American Revolution.
We hope you can join us for this historian happy hour this Sunday at 7 p.m. on our Facebook channel. If you miss it, we will post the revelry on our YouTube channel. Just search “Emerging Revolutionary War” to subscribe.
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.
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.]
[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.]
Fredericktown, Maryland, August 1, 1775, a gentleman on business wrote to his contact in Philadelphia the following observation of a company of volunteers answering the call to head north to Boston to join what would become the Continental Army
“Notwithstanding the urgency of my business, I have been detained three days in this place by an occurrence truly agreeable. I have had the happiness of seeing Captain Michael Cresap marching at the head of a formidable company of upwards of 130 men, form the mountains and backwoods, painted like Indians, armed with tomahawks and rifles and dressed in hunting shirts and moccasins, and though some of them had travelled near eight hundred miles from the banks of the Ohio, they seemed to walk light an easy and not with less spirit than at the first hour of their march. Health and vigour, after what they had undergone, declared them to be intimate with hardships and familiar with danger. Joy and satisfaction, were visible in the crowd that met them. Had Lord North been present, and been assured that the brave leader could raise thousands of such to defend his country, what think you, would not the hatchet and block had intruded upon his mind? I had an opportunity of attending the Captain during his stay in Town, and watched the behavior of his men, and the manner in which he treated them; for it seems that all who go out to war under him do not only pay the most willing obedience to him as their commander, but in every instance of distress look up to him as their friend or father. A great part of his time was spent in listening to and relieving their wants, without any apparent sense of fatigue and trouble. When complaints were before him he determined with kindness and spirit, and on every occasion condescended to please without losing is dignity.”
esterday the Company were supplied with a small quantity of powder from the magazine, which wanted airing, and was not good for rifles ; in the evening, however, they were drawn out to show the gentlemen of the town their dexterity at shooting. A clap board, with a mark the size of a dollar, was put up ; they began to fire at it off band, and the bystanders were surprised, few shots being made that were not close to or in the paper. When they had shot for a time in this way, some lay on their backs, some on their breast or side, others ran twenty or thirty steps, and firing, appeared to be equally certain of the mark. With this performance the company were more than satisfied, when a young man took up a board in his hand, not by the end, but by the side, and holding it up, his brother walked to the distance, and very coolly shot into the white ; laying down bis rifle, he took the board, and holding it as it was held before, the second brother shot as the former had done. By this exercise I was more astonished than pleased. But will you believe me, when I tell you, that one of the men took the board, and placing it between hia legs, stood with his back to the tree while another drove the centre. What wonld a regular army of considerable strength in the forests of America do with one thousand of these men, who want nothing to preserve their health and courage but water from the spring, with a little parched corn, with what they can easily procure in hunting ; and who wrapped in their blankets, in the damp of night, would choose the shade of a tree for their covering, and the earth for their bed.”
Although a depiction of the 1st Maryland at Guilford C.H in 1781 some of these men are dressed similar to the riflemen mentioned above (wikipedia)
*Account is in “Papers Relating Chiefly To the Maryland Line During the Revolution” Thomas Balch, editor. pgs. 6-7.
First, thank you all for understanding with the technical difficulties of yesterday’s potential Facebook Live.
Over this past weekend, the 210th anniversary of the Battle of Bladensburg and the Burning of Washington by British troops took place. In a potential future tour, I was scouting out locations around our nation’s capital that are connected with the year 1814. Although some of the sites have been rebuilt, some of the history is preserved in museums, and one of the places is still occupied by the president of the United States, there is still a lot of history underfoot related to the War of 1812.
Some of that history is below. Robert Sewall built a house sometime between 1800 on 2nd and Maryland Avenue Northeast but with an inheritance from an uncle’s passing moved to southern Maryland. He rented the property to Albert Gallatin, who would serve as treasury secretary under both Presidents Thomas Jefferson and James Madison. In 1813, Gallatin left to become one of the United States peace commissioners in Ghent, Belgium charged with negotiating a treaty to end the War of 1812. William Sewall, Robert’s son, took responsibility for the house at that point. William served with Commodore Joshua Barney during the War of 1812 and records do not indicate he ever lived at the residence.
During the British march into the city, a group of Barney’s men took refuge in the residence and fired shots at the enemy column. Two British soldiers were killed and the horse of Major General Robert Ross was also struck. Ross ordered men into the structure to clear the snipers but not finding the culprits, the infantrymen burnt the property in retaliation. This would be the only private property burnt during the British incursion into Washington.
The property remained in the Sewall family, the house was rebuilt in 1820 and is now the Belmont-Paul Women’s Equality National Monument, a unit of the National Park Service.
After returning to Washington, the Madison’s took residence here, in the house of John Tayloe III. On September 8, 1814, the Madison family moved in and in an upstairs room, the president received the peace treaty negotiated in Ghent, Belgium. He ratified the treaty in the upstairs study on February 17, 1815. When the Madison family vacated the quarters, six months after moving in, Tayloe received $500 in rent from their stay.
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.
I chose the long way to Revolutionary War history. Part of it can be blamed on the co-founders and early bloggers on ERW. They convinced me, a Civil War historian, to come to the “dark side,” and study the more pivotal, more complex, and more important era in American history. And thus I joined this merry band and “threw in” to start learning more about our turbulent founding. I can’t say that I am a master of this domain yet, but I’ve come a long in several years.
Today, however, as I walked through one of our country’s national cemeteries, one that does not have any dead from our War for Independence, I began thinking about the American consciousness and the path toward someone’s interest in our military history. I began by reflecting on my own experience and why I was drawn to study the Civil War. Certainly, visiting Civil War battlefields as a young child with a toy musket and kepi sold me easily enough to want me to pursue this field of study as a future career. But maybe it was also the impact of visual media. I could see my childhood heroes in pictures taken at the time, the wreckage of the battlefield, and the plight of dead and dying soldiers on those fields and at field hospitals.
So maybe the Revolutionary period does not garner the attention that study of later wars does as it lacks photographs, and for later conflicts, film, film with sound, and live frontline reporting on tv and the internet. But time may also factor into the perception of interest levels. Iraq, Afghanistan, Desert Storm, and Vietnam veterans are still with us, and although their numbers are marching into history, the Korean War and World War II generations. Their presence in our society makes the conflicts in which they served seem not so long ago, rather, more like recent history. As a public historian, however, when I have discussions regarding World War I and the Civil War it’s viscerally noticeable that modern society has a harder time making tangible connections to these moments in American history. It simply seems much further into the past, a long, long time ago to them. Maybe because there are no longer any living veterans from these wars. Bringing the Revolutionary War into the discussion only makes it seem even more remote from present day. The general public’s perception of time when thinking of this era might as well be the Dark Ages, but it is not even 250 years old yet. We are still a country in its infancy by world comparison. Thus, it’s a harder “sell” to the masses to become involved or interested in the Revolutionary War era outside of a cast of a few prominent characters, George Washington among the very top of that list.
Since April 2023, however, I have been on a crusade to change that thinking as I work with the public. The Revolutionary War was not that far away, and although we only have paintings and sketches from the war rather than photographs and live action film, it is enough to spark an interest and deeper appreciation and understanding. Perhaps, though, it is the tangible reminders of the war that can once and for all disprove the notion that this period is too far removed into the past to be relevant, worth note, or even remembrance.
Nearly eighteen months ago I stood on the battlefield of Camden, fought August 16, 1780. I watched as horsedrawn caissons returned the remains of twelve Continental soldiers of the Maryland and Delaware regiments, one British Loyalist of a North Carolina regiment, and one Scottish Highlander, 71st regiment back to the battlefield. The remains had been discovered earlier in 2022. After a moving ceremony, among a massive crowd gathered to pay their respects, I was able to walk among the flag draped coffins, made of wood from the battlefield itself. I was standing mere inches from soldiers that had given their lives on that field 243 years earlier. The vail of time instantly dropped at that stark realization. The Revolutionary War was not far into the past, hemmed in among long lost American decades. Rather it was right in front of me, in the present, in the now. You could further walk the battlefield that April weekend. Four white flag markers denoted the four corners of where each set of remains were found on the battlefield. You could literally see the battle unfold before you, and now lay witness to where these men had died and fell all those years before.
I have had many powerful experiences at historic sites of the years. Standing or walking in the footsteps of historical giants, visiting gravesites, being present on anniversaries of important moments. But no experience was as powerful as this day. And so, on this day, I reflect on the battle of Camden, South Carolina. I reflect on that April day. And I reflect on the unfinished work that lay ahead during the 250th anniversary commemorations of the Revolutionary War as public historians. We must rededicate ourselves “to the great task remaining before us” to bring these pivotal, complex, and important moments of this era back into the American consciousness and to ensure it remains ever present for the next 250 years.
Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes guest historian Evan Portman
Overlooking the Grand Parade at Valley Forge National Historical Park is a statue almost as solid as the man it portrays. Baron von Steuben helped transform the American army into an effective and efficient fighting force in the winter of 1777-1778, but he also aided the country nearly a century and a half later. Yes, Baron von Steuben helped the United States through World War I—or at least the social turmoil on the home front.
Friedrich Wilhelm August Heinrich Ferdinand Steuben was born in Prussia (modern day Germany) in 1730 and served in the Prussian army through the Seven Years’ War. By 1775, Steuben had accrued a considerable amount of debt (despite his stature within the aristocracy), so he sought a foreign military appointment. Failing to catch the eye of the British, French, or Austrians, the Baron set his sights on the fledgling American government. Congress arranged for Steuben to be paid, depending on the outcome of the war, and sent him to the winter encampment at Valley Forge. There, he began drilling the Continental army and instituted better hygiene and sanitation practices. He also wrote a drill manual, which he published in 1779 as Regulations for the Order and Discipline of the Troops of the United States. After the encampment at Valley Forge, Steuben participated in the Southern Campaign of the Revolutionary War. After the Siege of Yorktown, Congress awarded the Baron a tract of land in New York where he died in 1794.
Emerging Revolutionary War Era 