I have nothing Remarkebel to rite Except that geaneral Washington & Leas got into Cambridge yesterday and to Day thay are to take a vew of ye Army & that will be atended with a grate deal of grandor there is at this time one & twenty Drummers & as many feffors a Beting and Playing Round the Prayde.
No, that’s not a foreign language. It’s just a beautiful example of why spellcheck and grammar check were invented. Here’s how it would be with correct spelling, grammar, and punctuation:
I have nothing remarkable to write except that Generals Washington and Lee got into Cambridge yesterday, and today they are to take a view of the army, and that will be attended with a great deal of grandeur; there are at this time one-and-twenty drummers and as many fifers a-beating and playing round the parade.
This was a letter from Massachusetts Lieutenant Joseph Hodgkins to his wife, Sarah. Besides being interesting from a historical standpoint, their letters are all kinds of fun to read; sometimes a word is spelled so strangely that it takes a minute to figure out what it is.
Hodgkins was at the American army camp around Boston, and he was writing about how General George Washington, the newly-appointed commander-in-chief, was taking command of the American forces. Washington arrived at Cambridge, which was the army’s headquarters, on Sunday, July 2, along with Charles Lee, who had been appointed a major-general. The next day they “reviewed” the army; that is, the army marched around the parade ground, and the generals observed them. (Maybe that’s not the most accurate description of it, but it’ll do.) Washington and Lee had been welcomed and honored all along their way from Philadelphia to Cambridge, but now they were up against their real work. And neither one of them realized how hard it would turn out to be.
Here’s an artistic rendition of General Washington “reviewing” the colonial troops at Cambridge, Massachusetts, on July 3, 1775. Although it’s not historically accurate in some things — such as the stars-and-stripes flag, which hadn’t been designed yet — it gives an idea of what a “review” might have been like. The smoke in the background is from a salute being fired.
Source
This Glorious Cause: The Adventures of Two Company Officers in Washington’s Army, p. 171.
Well, it’s July 4th, but you could say that it’s really July 2nd. That’s the day when the Continental Congress actually voted to become independent. (Actually, they voted that they already were “Free and Independent States”.) John Adams, who had been working for quite a while to get Congress to declare independence, wrote:
The Second Day of July 1776, will be the most memorable Epocha, in the History of America.—I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated, by succeeding Generations, as the great anniversary Festival. It ought to be commemorated, as the Day of Deliverance by solemn Acts of Devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shews, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations from one End of this Continent to the other from this Time forward forever more.
So why don’t we celebrate July 2nd? Because of the Declaration of Independence. The things said in the Declaration are a whole lot more inspiring and famous than simply a vote saying that the colonies were independent of Great Britain. And the Declaration was finished (though not signed) on July 4th.
So which day is the real Independence Day? Take your pick; it doesn’t really matter. After all, it’s really the independence that should be celebrated, not just the day.
Source: “John Adams to Abigail Adams, 3 July 1776,” Founders Online, National Archives, accessed April 11, 2019, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Adams/04-02-02-0016. [Original source: The Adams Papers, Adams Family Correspondence, vol. 2, June 1776 – March 1778, ed. L. H. Butterfield. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1963, pp. 29–33.]
Soldiers were going to and from the camps around Boston; people were leaving Boston, often without being able to take much with them; and all of them needed a place to stay the night or get a meal while they were traveling. John and Abigail Adams’ house was along the road in nearby Braintree, Massachusetts, and many people — total strangers — stopped there for a few minutes, or hours, or days. John was in Philadelphia as a member of the Continental Congress; Abigail was managing the household and taking care of her young children, but still she willingly did what she could for the people who came to her door. Their house was a “Scene of confusion”, she wrote:
Soldiers comeing in for lodging, for Breakfast, for Supper, for Drink &c. &c. Sometimes refugees from Boston tierd and fatigued, seek an assilum for a Day or Night, a week—you can hardly imagine how we live.
“Yet to the Houseless child of want
our doors are open still.
And tho our portions are but scant
We give them with good will.”
Abigail Adams certainly was not the only one who helped out the soldiers and refugees who needed it. Many people gave a meal, a drink of water, a place to spend the night, and so on. It pays to remember that women played just as important a role in the Revolution as men did, and that soldiers were not the only heroes.
A portrait of Abigail Adams, ca. 1766
Notes
The word “assilum” was a misspelling of “asylum”, meaning a place to stay.
The verse that Abigail Adams quoted in her letter was adapted from The Hermit, a poem by Oliver Goldsmith, in which a hermit invites a traveler to stay the night with him:
Here to the houseless child of want My door is open still; And though my portion is but scant, I give it with good will.
Source
“Abigail Adams to John Adams, 24 May 1775,” Founders Online, National Archives, accessed April 11, 2019, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Adams/04-01-02-0136. [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. 204–206.]
Before the Revolutionary War, George Washington’s military experience was serving in the Virginia militia during the French and Indian War. This portrait, painted in 1772 by Charles Willson Peale, shows him as a militia colonel.
When the Continental Congress was getting ready to choose a commander-in-chief of the American army, they decided that he would be paid $500 a month, which was quite a lot for that time. George Washington, a wealthy Virginian, was unanimously chosen. Despite his wealth, it would have been perfectly understandable for him to take the salary that was offered, and most people would have done so. But instead, he decided to serve without pay. Here is the speech he made to the Congress when accepting his appointment (as was usual, he addressed his remarks to John Hancock, the president of congress, but he was really speaking to the whole group):
Mr President, Tho’ I am truly sensible of the high Honour done me in this Appointment, yet I feel great distress, from a consciousness that my abilities & Military experience may not be equal to the extensive & important Trust: However, as the Congress desire it I will enter upon the momentous duty, & exert every power I Possess In their service & for the Support of the glorious Cause: I beg they will accept my most cordial thanks for this distinguished testimony of their Approbation.
But lest some unlucky event should happen unfavourable to my reputation, I beg it may be rememberd by every Gentn in the room, that I this day declare with the utmost sincerity, I do not think my self equal to the Command I am honoured with.
As to pay, Sir, I beg leave to Assure the Congress that as no pecuniary [i.e., monetary] consideration could have tempted me to have accepted this Arduous emploiment at the expence of my domestk ease & happiness I do not wish to make any proffit from it: I will keep an exact Account of my expences; those I doubt not they will discharge & that is all I desire.
Washington did indeed serve without pay for the whole war, and he definitely has my respect for that. He also kept a record of his expenses during all that time and submitted it to Congress after the war was over; if you’d like to look at it, go to the Library of Congress website.
Source
“Address to the Continental Congress, 16 June 1775,” Founders Online, National Archives, accessed April 11, 2019, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Washington/03-01-02-0001. [Original source: The Papers of George Washington, Revolutionary War Series, vol. 1, 16 June 1775 – 15 September 1775, ed. Philander D. Chase. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1985, pp. 1–3.]
The Americans threw occasional nervous glances toward Boston and the harbor as they feverishly dug into the earth at the top of the hill. They had to finish their fort before daybreak, or they would be sitting ducks to the nearby British forces. Hopefully the British wouldn’t notice them until then. It was the night of June 16, 1775, and the Americans were busy on Breed’s Hill on the Charlestown peninsula.
The British commander-in-chief, General Thomas Gage, had planned to put his own forces on the Charlestown hills first, to keep the rebels from getting close enough to actually fire their artillery at the British in Boston. The hills on the Charlestown and Dorchester peninsulas had natural strategic advantage; whichever side controlled them could hope to control the outcome of the siege.
But the Americans got wind of General Gage’s plans and beat him to the punch. On Friday night, June 16, about 1,000 American troops quietly marched onto the Charlestown peninsula and began digging in. For some reason, rather than following the original plan to fortify Bunker Hill, they chose to move farther down the peninsula to Breed’s Hill, which was closer to Boston. They worked as quickly as possible, hoping to finish their fortifications before the British noticed.
Although the British did in fact notice that something was happening near Charlestown, they apparently didn’t realize the extent of what was going on, and they did nothing about it during the night. When daylight came, the Americans had made a decent earthen fort on top of the hill. British warships in the harbor saw the fort and began firing at it, but did little damage; it was too strong, as well as being too high up for the ships’ guns to get good shots at it.
This 1783 illustration of the battle of Bunker Hill shows the British bombarding the American fortifications, and British troops crossing from Boston to attack Breed’s Hill. In the background, Charlestown is in flames.
The British generals debated the best way attack the rebel fortifications. In the early afternoon, Generals William Howe and Robert Pigot crossed the water to the Charlestown peninsula with about 2,000 redcoats. By this time, the Americans had been able to strengthen their fortifications considerably, but they were tired, hungry, thirsty, and badly in need of reinforcements. Some of the inexperienced American troops, frightened by the artillery barrage from the ships, had run away.
Finally the British began their attack. Twice they advanced to within a short distance of the American fortifications and were sent staggering back by volleys of American musket fire. By then the American commander, Colonel William Prescott, was in a desperate situation: the American troops were nearly out of ammunition. As the British, bolstered by 500 reinforcements under General Henry Clinton, began their third advance, Prescott ordered his men to hold their fire in order to conserve ammunition (legend has it that he said, “Don’t fire until you see the whites of their eyes!”).
The British were only about 20 yards away when Prescott finally ordered his men to fire their last major volley. He recalled the scene that followed in a letter to John Adams:
Our Amunition being nearly exausted [we] could keep up only a scattering Fire. The Enemy being numerous surrounded our little Fort began to mount our Lines and enter the Fort with their Bayonets. We was obliged to retreat through them while they kept up as hot a fire as it was possible for them to make. We having very few Bayonets could make no resistance.
The Americans made a fighting retreat off the peninsula, with musket balls and cannon shot flying all around them “like Hailstones.” They had suffered about 400 casualties: 100 killed, and 300 wounded or captured. Among the dead was the beloved revolutionary leader Dr. Joseph Warren. In addition, Charlestown had been destroyed; the British had set it on fire by artillery bombardment in order to drive out rebel snipers.
But the British had purchased their victory at an unacceptably high cost: over 1,000 dead and wounded. One American called them “victorious losers. A few more such victories, and they are undone.” Wrote General Gage, “The number of killed and wounded is greater than our forces can afford to lose.” The bloody battle of Bunker Hill (as it was misnamed at the time, and has been called ever since) showed the British that “the rebels are not the despicable rabble too many have supposed them to be.”
After the battle, things began to quiet down again. For a while, everyone was more nervous than usual, but eventually they settled back into the routine of camp life. The British fortified Bunker Hill and the Charlestown peninsula, but didn’t make any other moves; and, for several months, neither did the Americans.
Sources
“To John Adams from William Prescott, 25 August 1775,” Founders Online, National Archives, accessed April 11, 2019, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Adams/06-03-02-0070. [Original source: The Adams Papers, Papers of John Adams, vol. 3, May 1775–January 1776, ed. Robert J. Taylor. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1979, pp. 124–126.]
Letter from Peter Brown to his mother, Cambridge, June 28, 1775. The Literary Diary of Ezra Stiles, ed. Franklin Bowditch Dexter (New York, 1901), 1:595-6.
“To John Adams from William Tudor, 26 June 1775,” Founders Online, National Archives, accessed April 11, 2019, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Adams/06-03-02-0030. [Original source: The Adams Papers, Papers of John Adams, vol. 3, May 1775 – January 1776, ed. Robert J. Taylor. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1979, pp. 48–49.]
Letter from General Gage to Lord Dartmouth, Boston, June 25, 1775. American Archives, ed. Peter Force, 2:1097.
OK, it wasn’t really as bad as it sounds. Not many people were hurt in the skirmish, the only things burnt were some hay and a house or two, and the only things slaughtered were livestock.
The water around Noddle’s and Hog (or Hogg) Islands was shallow enough that the Americans were able to walk there from the shore in order to destroy supplies that would have been used by the British.
Noddle’s Island, in Boston Harbor, was the scene of one of many skirmishes and confrontations over supplies while the British were besieged in Boston. The British were continually trying to get food for themselves and their horses, as well as firewood, and several times the New Englanders tried to either stop them in the process, or to destroy the supplies before the British could get them. The latter is what happened in this case. American soldiers went to Noddle’s Island, in Boston Harbor, to destroy what they could before the British could get it, and the British Marines went to stop them. British Lieutenant John Barker, stationed in Boston, recorded the fight in his diary the next day:
Yesterday afternoon about 40 of the Rebels came to Noddles Island expecting to meet with hay to destroy: they set two houses on fire and began killing the Cows and Horses, which the Adml. [Admiral] seeing immediately dispatched the Marines from the Men of War to drive the Rebels away, and at the same time sent some Boats and an armed Schooner round the Island to intercept them; the Rebels as soon as they saw this scour’d off as fast as they cou’d and escaped by wading up to their necks; one was killed in the flight; after this there was a constant firing at each other from the opposite sides of the water, but I believe without any mischief [meaning that nobody was hurt]; there was also firing at and from the Schooner and boats, which continued all night and part of this morning. I fancy we are the greatest sufferers for some time in the night the schooner run aground within 60 yards of their shore, and after a cannonade a considerable time on both sides, having no chance of saving the Schooner as the tide was going out, they were obliged to set her on fire and quit [i.e., leave] her without being able to save a single article…
From The British in Boston: Being a Diary of Lieutenant John Barker of the King’s Own Regiment from November 15, 1774 to May 31, 1776, pp. 50-51.
Notes
Noddle’s Island is no longer an island; the water around it has been filled up, and the island is now part of Boston.
General Thomas Gage, Commander-in-Chief of British forces in America, and Governor of Massachusetts
“The intelligence you seem to have received, relative to the late excursion of a body of Troops into the Country, is altogether injurious, and contrary to the true state of facts,” wrote British General Thomas Gage to Jonathan Trumbull, the governor of Connecticut. He was answering a letter that Trumbull had sent to him a few days before, talking about the battles of Lexington and Concord, and asking about what the British troops had done — some people said that they had committed “outrages” that “would disgrace even barbarians” — and why Boston was now cut off from the outside world. Gage responded:
The Troops disclaim with indignation the barbarous outrages of which they are accused, so contrary to their known humanity….For your better information, I enclose you a narrative of that affair, taken from gentlemen of indisputable honour and veracity, who were eye-witnesses of all the transactions of that day. The leaders here have taken pains to prevent any account of this affair getting abroad but such as they have thought proper to publish themselves; and to that end the post has been stopped, the mails broke open, and letters taken out; and by these means the most injurious and inflammatory accounts have been spread throughout the Continent, which has served to deceive and inflame the minds of the people….
You ask, why is the Town of Boston now shut up? I can only refer you for an answer to those bodies of armed men who now surround the Town, and prevent all access to it.
I don’t know, off the top of my head, how true it was that, as Gage said, the rebel leaders were basically censoring mail in order to prevent people from hearing the other side of the story. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was truth in it, though; after all, they were now at war, and letters written by the enemy — including those who sided with the British — probably seemed like fair game.
Sources
“Governour Trumbull to General Gage. [Read before Congress, May 19, 1775.] Hartford, April 28, 1775.” American Archives, ed. Peter Force, Series 4, Volume 2, 433-4.
“General Gage to Governour Trumbull. [Read before Congress, May 19, 1775.] Boston, May 3, 1775.” American Archives, ed. Peter Force, Series 4, Volume 2, 482-3.
“True quacks”, “headless beings”, “tools to do [the King’s] dirty work” — all of these were terms that someone used to describe the high officials of the British government (and the same person said that it was “like man like master”, meaning that King George III was just as bad as they were):
When the Parliament met, I was in hopes the manly Address of the General Congress [that is, a petition from the Continental Congress] to the King, and that to the people of England, would have opened their eyes, and have led them to apply a remedy suitable to the disease; but instead of that, what have they done? Like true quacks, they deal in inflammatories, and attempt to heal by exasperating the evil they should cure…. Never, sure, were Ministers [that is, the top officials in the British government] more infatuated than those headless beings who manage the affairs of England…. Don Quixote like, they are obstinately bent on fighting wind-mills; and no wonder if they get broken heads in the encounter. Were they alone to smart, it were no great matter; but the mischief is, that I fear they will draw down irreparable evils upon both Englands. Lord North is only a tool to do the dirty work of his more dirty superiours; and the precious Parliament are, in their place, the tools to do his dirty work in return, for the pay he gives them.
Lord North, the British Prime Minister — “a tool to do the dirty work of his more dirty superiours”
Politics can be nasty, and I certainly won’t disagree that today’s American politics are very much so; but nastiness in politics didn’t start yesterday; it’s been around for ages, as shown by this letter.
The writer of this letter, who I think was probably either an Englishman or an American, was in Holland at the time, writing to the Reverend William Gordon of Roxbury, Massachusetts (who later wrote a history of the Revolutionary War).
Source
“Extract of a Letter from Holland, of May 2, 1775, to the Rev. Mr. William Gordon, of Roxbury.” American Archives, ed. Peter Force, Series 4, Volume 2, 462-3.
You may not have heard that the Americans decided to invade and take over Quebec early in the Revolutionary War. The first part of the invasion was led by Benedict Arnold in September 1775. The journey itself was quite an achievement, but you can see that it didn’t work out, by the fact that Canada is not one of the United States.
This map was made by a British officer in the 1760s. It shows the wilderness areas he traveled through to get from Quebec to Maine. The first American invasion of Quebec followed a similar route, in the opposite direction.
I’ve read a lot about Arnold’s trek along the rivers and through the woods of Maine and Quebec, but I didn’t realize until today that somebody else was itching to start such an expedition before the war was even two weeks old. Jonathan Brewer, Esquire, of Waltham, Massachusetts, submitted a petition to the Massachusetts Provincial Congress, stating:
That your Petitioner having a desire of contributing all in his power for this Country’s good, begs leave to propose to this honourable House to march with a body of five hundred Volunteers to Quebeck, by way of the Rivers Kennebeck and Chadier, as he humbly begs leave to apprehend that such a diversion of the Provincial Troops into that part of Canada, would be the means of drawing the Governour of Canada with his Troops, into that quarter, and which would effectually secure the Northern and Western Frontiers from any inroads of the Regular or Canadian Troops. This he humbly conceives he could execute with all the facility imaginable. He therefore begs that this honourable Assembly would take this his proposal into consideration, and to act thereon as in their wisdom shall seem meet.
The plan he proposed was pretty much the same one that Benedict Arnold followed several months later. When he said he could “execute” his plan “with all the facility imaginable”, what he meant was that he could carry it out quickly.
I’m sure there was plenty of talk about invading Canada during the early months of the war, but I didn’t know it was formally proposed as early as May 1, 1775, which is when this petition was evidently submitted.
Any idea how many people died in your town in the last week? Or last year? Or how many people were baptized into a church?
Nowadays, I’m not sure where to find that information, though I’m sure it’s somewhere. In the 1770’s, however, you might be able to find it simply by opening your newspaper. The Boston Gazette on January 4, 1773, included information like this:
Burials in the Town of BOSTON, since our last [that is, since the last edition of the newspaper],
Eight Whites. One Black
Baptiz’d in the several Churches, Ten.
It went on to list burials and baptisms for each month in 1772, the totals for 1771, and then the “Bills of Mortality” — that is, how many people died — for the years 1701-1772. Smallpox and measles were listed next to some of the years; I assume this means that there were epidemics of those diseases in those years.
Here are some of the statistics listed in the Boston Gazette.
It’s worth noting that the numbers of deaths were listed separately for blacks and whites. Most black people in America at that time were slaves, and most white people looked down on them. But I’m not sure why there weren’t separate numbers for baptisms. Did the churches not allow blacks to be baptized? I don’t think so, because I know that there were black church members in at least some places in New England at that time. Maybe they weren’t listed separately on the baptismal records, because the government didn’t use those records. I’m not sure, but it’s a reminder of the racial distinctions that existed at that time.
