Americanism Redux
September 11, your today, on the journey to the American Founding, 250 years ago, in 1775
I need to know, I need knowledge, I need to know some of the knowledge.
That’s what I’ll hold onto, like a candle in a dark room.
The light makes the shadows, and I need to know what’s inside the darkness.
It’s today, 250 years ago and it’s 250 years ago flashing forward to today and I still need the knowledge.
* * * * * * *
There’s an informal school of sorts in Littleton Parish in central Virginia. A man—one man—operates the school, meaning he is the teacher. It’s thought, however, that “from the many unnecessary Divisions, and erroneous Tenets, propagated among us, and the general Prevalency of Ignorance, Enthusiasm, and Impiety, among the lower Class of People, may be perceived the Necessity of having our Youth educated under the immediate Care and Superintendency of such as are Members of our happy Establishment, and of approved Morals.”
Two more teachers are now being requested to that the school will expand into the “Littleton Academy.”
And what will they be expected to teach?
“…the Greek and Latin Languages, and the Mathematicks in all its Branches…(and also) Natural and Moral Philosophy.”
These are the sources of knowledge deemed of the highest, deepest, and greatest value in these current times of stress and strain.
Serious execution of this plan will begin “as soon as Peace is restored” and the light of knowledge can begin to shine forth.
* * * * * * *
(begrudgingly said)
Eighty miles from Cumberland County’s Littleton school is Joshua Hardcastle of Spotsylvania County, Virginia. He’s packing bags, selling stuff he can’t pack and travel with, and sorting out where he goes next. His knowledge will go with him.
The reason for the packing happened a few days ago.
Across Spotsylvania County, Hardcastle was bold and aggressive in denouncing the colonial cause and condemning the local people who supported it, especially those whose support had led them to enlist in a military unit. To him, they’re ignorant, stupid, and dirty and he’s not shy in saying so. To no one’s surprise, they reached a point when they had heard enough.
The officers of the unit—there are twenty of them—seized Hardcastle and dragged him to the “Grove” where they had been training and meeting on a regular basis. A witness said, “they then proceeded to his trail, and after a candid, mature, and deliberate examination of the witnesses, found him guilty of the facts laid to this charge” (of criticizing and insulting the unit and the unit’s cause).
They drew up options of punishment: wear a coat that everyone knew only working-class people used; be driven through the town behind a drummer beating his drum; or make an open public confesion and apology.
The twenty officers voted—ten for apology, ten for drumming and driving, and zero for wearing the coat. Deadlock.
They then devised a new option. He could ask for the forgiveness of the unit and promise never to speak again with those tones and words. In addition, the entire proceedings would be published in the newspaper “as a warning to those who may hereafter sport with the great and glorious cause of America.” Done. This option is the punishment.
A newspaper publishes the proceedings, Hardcastle mutters a request for forgiveness, and then, in a final moment of defiance, he declares “I intend to leave the Colony soon.”
All of this is set alongside the Littleton school eighty miles away, with its urgent request for knowledge and waiting for “peace restored”.
* * * * * * *
Hundreds of miles to the north, another Virginian has another set of requests for knowledge and restoration of peace.
* * * * * * *
(a team meeting)
He is General George Washington who today, 250 years ago, is at his Continental Army headquarters in Cambridge, Massachusetts. The enemy, the British Redcoats, are to the east, in Boston. However, it’s inside his own encampment that he is seeking knowledge as well as discipline, order, and the shut-down of chaos that could destroy everything about the colonial cause.
The knowledge he wants is from his own team of generals, the people who report directly to him as his closest subordinates. There are nine of them and three days ago he sent a request for them to meet with him as a group and team. It’s the first time for something—they’re going to help him answer a massively important question: should we directly attack the British in Boston? In his invitation to the team meeting, Washington lists out several reasons why the answer should be “yes.” He also adds a couple of reasons why it might be “no.” If you’re a team member, you don’t have to be a genius to guess which way Washington leans. He’s aggressive, eager for action and a swift conclusion of the current standoff.
In the meeting, Washington allows each of the nine members to express their view and to connect with each other in forming a team consensus. He listens with sincerity. The flow of the discussion rushes toward the direction he doesn’t desire: the answer is no, we’re not going to attack. A key aspect of their response is a belief that new news—fresh reports—are said to be coming from England that could substantially alter the current situation. Ah yes, those tantalizing “updates!”, “breaking news!”, and “this-just-in’s!”.
The presumption is that the alteration would tilt in the Continental Army’s favor.
Washington asked for the team’s collective knowledge and he got it.
* * * * * * *
(these guys)
What Washington didn’t ask for but received full in the face, gut, and backside was information of mutiny. Yes, mutiny, the organized uprising and overthrow of formal authority by members of a military unit. Good God, mutiny.
It began with the Pennsylvania units of those specialized-skill warriors—the riflemen—serving on Prospect Hill overlooking Boston. They were outraged at the build-up of rules, regulations, and restrictions on daily conduct. They wanted to drink when they wanted to drink, wanted to fire their weapons at the enemy when they wanted to fire their weapons at the enemy, wanted to strip and bathe whenever they felt dirty and the idea of cool water sounded good to them, and on and on. They were hunters and woodsmen and they wanted to be hunters and woodsmen.
Washington regarded their conduct as out-of-control.
Yesterday, a sergeant among the Pennsylvanian riflemen in William Thompson’s battalion had been arrested as a signal of discipline. That signal had the opposite effect, triggering a riot, the smashing of tents, fences, wagons, and anything else they could rip to pieces. They shouted insults to other units and challenged anyone to stop them from doing whatever they wanted. Washington and two of his generals-team members met with them on Prospect Hill, blending stern words with calm reminders of cause and duty. Hours later, Washington ordered a second arrest, this time of every rifleman identified as a rioter, including a supposed leader, John Seamon, and his thirty-two fellow Pennsylvanians. All thirty-three received heavy fines; Seamon was sentenced to six days in jail. Though he knew whippings were normal consequences for mutiny, Washington sensed he could go no further with the punishment.
The mutiny didn’t have a stated political aim. It was social, cultural, tribal. Regardless, the uprising showed that the proper ties and bonds among the soldiers could not be assumed. At any moment they could either snap or stretch in ways that would overwhelm the cause. They could then prove the worst fears everyone had of armed people bent on vengeance for slights, grievances, and denied instincts.
* * * * * * *
(night-time confusion)
Far away from the mutiny on Prospect Hill are the struggles of two collections of colonial soldiers seeking to seize Canada. The men organized to capture the British fort at Saint Jean on the Richelieu River are recovering from their second failed strike at the post. General Richard Montgomery’s plan had been for a night-time attack from two directions. Darkness won—each contingent of colonial soldiers mistook the other for the enemy, as colonist fired on colonist in the blackness and then withdrew into the woods in total confusion. Benedict Arnold is in charge of 1100 men heading toward the mouth of the Kennebec River where they’ll embark in large canoes for an upstream movement toward Quebec. They have opinions and guesses as to what awaits on the cold river of the north woods.
Unlike the thirty-three riflemen punished for mutiny on the heights outside Boston, the men of Montgomery and Arnold have to focus on survival, not stifled habits.
* * * * * * *
(Rebecca)
The wagons have finally stopped today for Rebecca Boone. She’s arrived at Boonesborough, named for her family. Her husband, Daniel, has led the Boones and fifty other people from the Clinch River to the new set of rough cabins along the Kentucky River. Riflemen are among Boone’s group.
36-year old Rebecca is exhausted from the death of her and Daniel’s ninth child, born only a few weeks ago. She’ll still have to do a major share of caring for their surviving children as the family’s new home in Boonesborough gets started. Everyone will pitch in, of course, but the amount of work that falls to Rebecca will continue to be back-breaking in her condition of recovery. She’ll rely on her sister-in-law Jane for comfort and support among crowing roosters and squealing hogs.
* * * * * * *
(it was supposed to be a big deal)
At the Continental Congress in Philadelphia a date that was once seen as distant is now here. September 10, 1775 was the point in time set for the final and supposedly big-stick response of colonial protest against imperial overreach. It’s the date that, back when the delegates first met to “congress” together in September 1774, was fixed in the future as starting an export embargo on all goods going to the British Isles. The thinking then had been, first, writing and sending a pair of respectfully-worded documents of opposition; second, the launch of an economic boycott of imports; and THEN, drum-roll and last resort-ish, an export embargo. The thought was: yeah, that’ll teach ’em.
Well, a year has come and gone, the Great Export Shut-Down is a day old, and hardly anyone notices amid the three battles last spring, dozens of skirmishes and scenes of hostility in the north and south and central regions, the Boston siege, the Canada invasions, attacks in northern New York, the Continental Army, colonial navies, colonial militias, and more and more.
* * * * * * *
The plight of the Littleton Academy is everywhere—we’re looking for knowledge to help cast light on the darkness.
Also
250 years ago today, in the Atlantic Ocean slightly west of France, Julien Alexandre Archard de Bonvoulair tries to make himself comfortable along the rail of the top deck of a ship. It’s not easy with his damaged leg. Grabbing the rail to steady himself, Bonvoulair is thinking about his assignment—act as a secret agent of the French government and make contact with the Continental Congress in Philadelphia. The 26-year old man is starving from ambition and sees his special duty as the chance of a lifetime to earn an officer’s rank in the French military. Finally, he can make his family proud.
Under a gray sky, saltwater sprays up on dark wood as the ship rises and falls on the ocean waves.
* * * * * * *
(John)
Still in England as he finishes his legal education, John Laurens writes to his uncle about the tragic, unexpected death of a family member. “Time generously heals the wound but with him (John’s father), I hope Reason and Religion will hasten the Cure,” states John. “What unexpected Cruel Misfortunes await us—of what can we promise ourselves any lasting Possession—a lovely branch of our family is prematurely torn from us in a manner which draws tears of sympathy from very strangers.”
* * * * * * *
(putting the boss’s declaration into action)
British Prime Minister Lord North works day-by-day to weave both a strategy and tactical resources around King George III’s recent declaration of a full colonial rebellion as well as recognition of an internal isle-based network of support and encouragement of colonial resistance.
North meets with military experts and political advisors to piece together the war-making effort behind the declaration.
For You Now
We’ve had darkness in large amounts these past few days and weeks of 2025. What do you turn to in finding the light? Many of us will say our faith, religion, spirituality, to God and Higher Power. I’ve got no problem with that.
I’d like to invoke a second source here. I’m referring to our knowledge. The story of the Littleton school-academy grabbed me today. Those entrepreneurs of learning have a clear view of the knowledge they want people to have. Whether you agree with them or not, my point is to emphasize their clarity, their sharply-defined sight of what they see as valuable knowledge. To them, this knowledge shines, converting blackness into brightness, a mass of invisibility frightened to the corners, cowering as shadow.
It can be overdone, oversaid, overthought, if you will.
Is Washington drawing on knowledge in the chaos of Prospect Hill? Is Rebecca Boone relying on knowledge on the Kentucky River banks? Is John Laurens writing from knowledge in the letter to his uncle?
Not easily known, as one might say.
Suggestion
Take a moment to consider—what does your knowledge tell you today?
(Your River)
