Americanism Redux
November 13, your today, on the journey to the American Founding, 250 years ago, in 1775
You won’t go very far in any direction before you bump into it. A few miles? Okay. A few days? Sure. However you want to slice your life up, though, whether in space or in time, you can’t avoid coming face-to-face and eye-to-eye with…
War.
As a topic of conversation. As an action taken. As decisions, choices, and options. As a result, an outcome, an effect that leads to a next link in the chain. And this too, surprisingly: for all the realization that a life can be stopped or altered by it, war often seems not to have the clarity and definability you’d expect.
It’s just there, almost everywhere, 250 years ago right now.
* * * * * * *
(Dunmore)
War’s presence can be found with two men, in the woods and waters of Virginia.
Bill Rollings’s face is reddish, with small indentations left over from having survived smallpox. He has escaped from the indentured servitude contract that had bound him to Francis Smith. Rollings has been seen boarding a British naval vessel in the Chesapeake Bay.
Ned is 18 years old, not much over five feet tall, with a large burn mark on one hand and two of his fingers grown together. Black and enslaved, he’s fled from the control of James Edmondson.
This week, 250 years ago, Virginia’s imperial British governor Lord Dunmore, driven from Virginia to the safety of a British naval squadron, has declared his “Proclamation” that frees Bill, Ned, and thousands of other men who are enslaved or in some form of contract bound to the control and ownership by other people. Dunmore states that in exchange for joining the British against the pro-colonial rights crowd—and he means grabbing a weapon and entering the battlefield—all such men will receive their freedom.
For many people in Virginia, Dunmore has gone from hero to villain in about nine months’ time. Early in the year, he was the public’s hero for the limited war that seized western lands in Virginia’s name. But since the spring, he’s denounced colonial-rights supporters and, remarkable among British imperial governors, led isolated naval raids along the coast and urged enslaved people there to revolt against their enslavers and join his fight for England. Now, he’s announcing full-scale martial law and full-scale uprisings among anyone laboring without freedom.
Bill, have you heard? Ned, did you know? And those remaining thousands, will you agree?
Wherever you are, on whichever side of Dunmore’s Proclamation you find yourself, the war is everywhere in Virginia.
* * * * * * *
Moo. Mooooo. Moooooooo! Ten cows made curious, then alarmed, and finally upset and distressed. If there was a code name for the British Redcoats’ mission at Lechmere Point near Boston, it should be “Operation Cattle Drive.”
A few days ago, a contingent of British Redcoats made a surprise amphibious assault on a circle of land called Lechmere. It’s a place cut off from the Massachusetts mainlain during high tide. The Redcoats jumped from their boats, rounded up ten head of cattle for much-needed use in feeding hungry comrades in besieged Boston, and started to row back behind British lines.
A unit of Pennsylvania riflemen led by Colonel William Thompson—from the same group that had mutined two months ago—reacted to alarms raised by Continental soldiers watching Lechmere. Thompson and his men waded through the salty tidewater, holding their rifles above their heads, and fired on the cattle-driving Redcoats. Other Continental units were dispatched after fears grew that a major British offensive appeared to be underway. A few men were killed or wounded on either side of the clash.
Next day, November 10, General George Washington issued a formal camp-wide “job-well-done” statement that also included a subtle revelation about some Continental soldiers refusing to slosh through the water. It was Washington’s way of continuing to express his displeasure with Thompson and the formerly mutinous riflemen.
* * * * * * *
(the line of how-to)
The ten-cow incident is the only actual clash of arms for Washington during this week ending November 13. He’s been slogging away at everything else, from buttons (a soldier’s unit number must be displayed there) to blankets (a new soldier gets two dollars if he furnishes his own blanket). His biggest headache is the arguing and ill-will between officers from different colonies (or “governments”, as he calls them) who are now serving in the same unit; no one wants to get along. The issue is absorbing countless hours of Washington’s time and is still unresolved.
Furthermore, other extraneous issues are hounding Washington into the long hours of his November nights—how to set up prisoner-of-war camps, how to use courts and laws to process captured enemy ships and goods, how to evaluate offers and ideas of miraculous wonder-weapons, and on and on. The line of how-to questions standing outside Washington’s tent winds deep into the darkness.
A split-second of hopefulness shines in the midst of organizational nightmares—Washington names Henry Knox the new chief of artillery, successor to the disastrous predecessor, Colonel Richard Gridley. Washington has a “good feeling” about the 300-pound, one-time Boston bookseller Knox.
* * * * * * *
(Hale’s way to relax)
Lieutenant Nathan Hale from Connecticut has a similar yet different perspective from the commanding General George Washington.
Hale writes in his diary during this same 7-day time span and describes the bitterness and hostility between the officers of Continental units. So great is the trouble that officers decide not to attend church services in order to keep haranguing about rank. He also reports the Lechmere clash was the fault of a drunken rifleman who was supposed to be on guard duty in prevention of such incursions. By today, 250 years ago, Hale gives a first account of a Continental soldier who attempted to desert to the British.
And the light at the end of the tunnel? Hale finds a glimmer from playing football and checkers, and in eating meals with family or friends.
You do what you can within a life of war.
* * * * * * *
From southern Canada, central New York and the Great Lakes to South Carolina river valleys, the war pops and pops and pops all along the Atlantic coast.
Only hours ago, Continental General Richard Montgomery accepts the surrender of British Redcoats and Canadian fighters surrounded in Montreal. Meanwhile, Continental Colonel Benedict Arnold and his men finally get food from friendly French-Canadian farmers and villagers as they close in on Quebec. War burns in the frost.
But British supporters are active and on the move. Guy Johnson and Joseph Brant—the former a member of an influential family in central New York and the latter a leader in the Native Mohawk tribe of the same region—have left New York harbor for London. They’re seeking to arrange a deal with British imperial officials: aggressive and effective Native military alliances with the British in exchange for redress of grievances, including shady land deals, made at the expense of Native tribes in New York. With war here, a deal might be made.
British Colonel Henry Hamilton arrives at Fort Detroit with the new title of Lieutenant Governor and Superintendent of Indian Affairs in Quebec. He immediately begins to establish a relationship with Normand Macleod, a local trader and woodsman trusted by Native Huron and Ottawa leaders. Hamilton wants to know the lay of the land in understanding how to encourage Natives on behalf of British imperial interests. These conversations will be different indeed with war sitting at the fire.
Down south, Francis Marion receives command of two companies of South Carolina’s 2nd Continental Regiment. Marion’s first assignment: guard the gunpowder at Fort Dorchester on the Ashley River, northwest of Charleston. His objective will be to guard against a repeat of last week’s pillaging of a gunpowder shipment inland to pro-colonial Cherokee, the vengeance of the pro-British Cunningham brothers. The assignment at Fort Dorchester is stationary, fixed, and tied to a geographical position. These aren’t the natural gifts of Marion, and war wants his talent.
* * * * * * *
(masthead image of the American Daily Advertiser)
You’re holding a decision in your hand. “The several printers in the united colonies are desired to publish in their news-papers, the following extracts from (James) Burgh’s political disquisitions, for the benefit of those who have not those useful books…” That’s the pronouncement in the American Daily Advertiser in Philadelphia.
Burgh has been dead for three months. An English political commentator and thinker, he has written about the life of Algernon Sidney, a paraphrasing of which is available in today’s edition of the American Daily Advertiser:
“Liberty cannot be preserved if the manners of a people are corrupted; nor absolute monarchy introduced where they are sincere…where the manners of a people are gone, laws are of no avail.”
If you want to know more from Burgh’s works, which includes extensive references to not only Sidney but also Arisotle and Montesquieu, you can still get a copy at Dunlap’s in Philadelphia, on Market Street. Turn the pages of Burgh and you’ll learn about manners, civil society, and the bloody fight over liberty.
* * * * * * *
At stake is a cause. The cause’s condition, its environment and surrounding habitat, is war.
Also
The wheels of the British imperial government are turning at war speed.
Viscount William Barrington is King George III’s Secretary of War. Barrington urges the use of 55,000 Redcoats in the war, almost a third of which should be kept in England, Ireland, and Scotland to maintain any public disorder and chaos unleashed by the American war. The House of Commons votes to approve his recommendation.
Lord North is King George III’s Prime Minister. North urges the imposition of a 4 shilling land tax to pay for the American war. He’s concerned that without it, the governmental financial crisis brought on by the last war of 1754-1763 will destroy the British governing system. The House of Commons votes to approve his recommendation.
And Lord George Germain is King George III’s new Secretary of State for the Colonies. He’s gotten expanded powers in the role, consolidating and coordinating actions at the Boards of Ordnance, Treasury, and Admiralty. Germain is a hard-liner toward the colonies and a bitter-ender toward people in the imperial government who ridiculed him as “unfit to serve” back in the 1754-1763 war. Today, 250 years ago, Germain is already starting to bring the various threads of war-making into his hands. He’s sending out letters that reference he and the king in almost the same breath.
* * * * * * *
The Earl of Sandwich writes to Captain William Cornwallis, commander of the vessel “Pallas”. Cornwallis’s mission is to go to Africa and sail down the western coast, attending to the interests of the Royal African Company, after which he’ll bear west toward South America. Sandwich advises him that the thirteen American colonies are in “open and actual Rebellion” and that if Cornwallis encounters ships belonging to any of the colonies, he should check them for any items that can be used in their war on England. If any are found, seize the ships.
It’s a world war.
* * * * * * *
Want to see a government official split a hair? Watch and learn.
55-year old Comte de Vergennes is the chief diplomat of French King Louis XVI. Today, 250 years ago, he’s closely tracking any information he can get of the British-colonial brawl. Vergennes would love nothing more than to see France’s rival and arch-enemy, England, drain its life away in an internal struggle. And if he can nudge the process along with a helping hand to the colonies, well, he’s fine with that.
So now Vergennes has a razor-sharp knife in his hand for hairsplitting. Actually, it’s a quill pen. He’s writing a letter of instruction on how to follow British dictates not to trade with the rebellious American colonies. And if some French goods (gunpowder, let’s say) are sold to Holland and somehow end up in American hands? The answer is that the goods be marked as “destined” for Holland, and France is off the hook. But hold on, not good enough. Vergennes grins to himself and rubs out “destined” and writes in “marked”. There! “Marked” means that, who knows, maybe the ship captain hit his head on the deck rails, maybe the crew mutinied, maybe a white whale smacked its tale against the hull—but somehow or other the goods ended up in America, not Holland, after all! Not France’s fault. It was “marked”, you know.
For You Now
(wolves everywhere)
What does it mean when something that didn’t exist has now arrived and is all around you? A year ago it was alien, far-off, unthinkable. Life voted in the meantime, however, and the thing you couldn’t envision is right outside your door, in your house, and most imporantly of all, in your head.
War is the condition that’s now everywhere.
Remember when it was tea that we worried about?
The Union is conceived before war began. It was a protest movement taken shape as collective, embodied expression. Union was argument, rhetoric, stances, positions. It’s chairs, papers, writings, readings, hands up, points of order. About the worst you’ll get is this: “can you believe what that last guy said?”
Union as war is vastly different.
We’re no longer talking about the Pennsylvania State House where the Continental Congress meets. We’re in camps, tents, battles, sieges, losing blood, inflicting pain, makeshift graves, ragged flags.
War is the substance injected into the womb, a chemical and fluid mixing with tissue and cells. The Union and the war and the cause, together they grow, continue, and evolve.
Suggestion
Take a moment to consider: is there a difference between a soldier fighting for a nation and a soldier fighting for a union?
(Your River)
