The Reality of “Dr. Cutts”

Back here, I quoted Edmund Quincy’s story of his father, little Josiah Quincy, starting to study Latin at the Phillips Academy in Andover in 1778 alongside a man more than twenty years older—a former Continental Army surgeon named Cutts.

It’s significant that that story appeared in Edmund Quincy’s biography of his father not in Mayor Quincy’s own words but in those of the author (shown here), remembering what he’d heard from his father decades before.

As I stumbled across gathered evidence, it became clear that the younger Quincy amalgamated multiple figures from his father’s school days into a composite “Dr. Cutts.”

The first figure was James Anderson of Londonderry, New Hampshire, admitted to the same inaugural class at the academy alongside six-year-old Josiah even though he was twenty-nine. As beginning students, they may indeed have been seated together, as Edmund Quincy described.

Next were a pair of young brothers named Cutts, who joined the school in 1782. Josiah Quincy and Richard Cutts (1771–1845) went on to be Harvard classmates who both represented Massachusetts in the U.S. Congress in the first decades of the nineteenth century, albeit in different parties. Edmund Quincy remembered that surname.

Finally there was John Brown Cutting, whose last name was easily confused with “Cutts” and equally appropriate for a surgeon. He entered the Phillips Academy in 1781, when Josiah Quincy was nine. According to academy records, Cutting was then 23 years old. (According to the age reported when he died, Cutting was a little older, born about 1755.)

John Brown Cutting came to the school from the Continental Army medical department. But he wasn’t a surgeon or surgeon’s mate; rather, starting in 1775 he served as an assistant apothecary. In this period, apothecaries were routinely addressed as “Doctor,” and Cutting definitely used that title.

Other details of John Brown Cutting’s life also connect with what Edmund Quincy described about “Dr. Cutts.” He did spend many years after the Revolutionary War in Europe. In 1806 he did marry a gentlewoman in Virginia: Sally (Carter) Carter (1767–1814), widow of George Carter.

Later Cutting worked for the U.S. government and started spelling his middle name with a terminal E. He died in Alexandria in 1831. Laudatory obituaries appeared in national newspapers and in the Boston Palladium, which likely prompted Josiah Quincy to tell his son stories of his old schoolmate.

Mayor Quincy probably remembered John Brown Cutting vividly not just because he was an unusual older student at Andover but because the man was a world-class networker, schmoozer, and unabashed gossip. Cutting served John Adams as a fill-in secretary in 1787. He aided American sailors as a self-appointed diplomat. He corresponded with both John and Abigail Adams, Washington, Jefferson, Hamilton, Madison, Knox, Jackson, Pickering, and more. Gouverneur Morris once described him entering the room with “a World of News.”

I plan to explore stories from the life of John Brown(e) Cutting. For now, though, I simply wish to establish that Edmund Quincy’s tale of a “Dr. Cutts” turns out to have some basis in reality, but not exactly as printed.

Seeking Josiah Quincy’s Much Older Schoolmate

The upstart rural academy in Andover that became the prestigious Phillips Andover prep school published records of exactly who attended. Of course it did.

The Biographical Catalogue of the Trustees, Teachers and Students of Phillips Academy Andover, 1778-1830 confirms one detail of the story from Edmund Quincy’s biography of his father that I quoted yesterday.

Namely, that age six, Josiah Quincy (1772–1864, shown here past age six) was indeed the youngest student at the school when it opened in 1778. There were five seven-year-olds, though.

The alumni list also confirms that one student at the academy that year was “a man nearly thirty years of age”: James Anderson of Londonderry, New Hampshire, aged twenty-nine.

It’s therefore conceivable that little Josiah and old Mr. Anderson were seated together as the most rank beginners among the Latin scholars. This history of the school makes that assumption.

Otherwise, however, James Anderson doesn’t match Edmund Quincy’s description of his father’s classmate: a former Continental Army surgeon named Cutts who went on to an overseas career and marriage to an heiress in the vicinity of Alexandria, Virginia.

A man from Londonderry named James Anderson did serve as a lieutenant in the first year of the war. He was not, however, a surgeon or surgeon’s mate. His military duties didn’t take him anywhere near Virginia. And we have no indication that that former officer decided to go back to school.

The academy said its James Anderson went on to Harvard College in 1784. Sometimes men of limited means who were fixed on clerical careers started their higher education late, and they might spend a couple of years intensively studying Latin and Greek to qualify for college.

Harvard says its James Anderson didn’t go on to earn a master’s degree, as most aspiring clergymen did. He died in 1835. I can’t find anything more about him. His common name doesn’t help. (In the 1790s, for example, George Washington was corresponding with a Scottish botanist named James Anderson while employing a different James Anderson to operate his distillery.)

When the Sibley’s Harvard Graduates series reaches the class of 1784, it might have more to say about this James Anderson. (This year’s volume covers the classes of 1775 through 1777.) His profile will surely not reveal he went by the name of “Dr. Cutts,” though.

In 1782, a couple of brothers named Cutts arrived at the academy. But they were about Josiah Quincy’s age, not army veterans and not doctors.

So does Edmund Quincy’s account of his father’s adult schoolmate Dr. Cutts have any basis in reality?

TOMORROW: Meet Dr. John Brown Cutting.

“This mature schoolfellow, Cutts by name”

Edmund Quincy wrote The Life of Josiah Quincy of Massachusetts (1867) by drawing on his father’s writings and his own memories.

The father, namesake son of the Patriot Josiah Quincy, Jr., wrote a detailed reminiscence about his years as a student at what became the Phillips Andover Academy. I quoted some here.

To that first-hand account Edmund added information he recalled hearing, such as this anecdote about one of his father’s classmates:

The Phillips Academy at Andover had just been founded [in 1778], mainly by the contributions of his grandfather [William Phillips] and other members of the Phillips family; and it was thought expedient that the founders should show their confidence in the school by sending their children and grandchildren to it. . . .

And at six years old he took his seat on the lowest form by the side of a man nearly thirty years of age, and they began their Cheever’s Accidence [the standard Latin textbook] together.

This mature schoolfellow, Cutts by name, had been a surgeon in the Continental army, who, having scrambled into as much surgical skill as was then thought sufficient for that position without any early advantages of education, was made so sensible of his deficiencies, through associating with the cultivated men he was thrown among in the army, that he resolved to supply them as soon as he had an opportunity.

Resigning his commission, he came to Andover Academy, and went regularly to school for two years, to make up in some degree his classical shortcomings. Out of school, of course, he associated on equal terms with the Preceptor and the other gentlemen of the town. He was a man of wit and talent, and the two ill-mated form-fellows were friends in later years.

Various romantic stories are told of him, of which this is one. During his military service he had won the heart of the daughter of a rich Virginia planter, who would not consent that her hand should go with it to the penniless young surgeon. His scholastic training as well as his military career being ended, Dr. Cutts, after various adventures, went to Europe, where he lived for many years, nobody knew how.

After long years a letter from the lady of his youthful love found him out, which told him that her father, and I think her husband, and whatever other obstacles had hindered the course of their true love from running smooth, were now out of the way, and that, if he retained his old affection for her, and chose to claim her early promise, she was ready to fulfil it. On this hint he hastened home, married his early love, and spent the rest of his life at ease. . . .

All this I remember my father telling us at breakfast, many years ago, on reading in the newspaper the death of his old schoolfellow, somewhere near Alexandria, at a good old age.

Now that’s a fine anecdote of a marriage being saved. Unfortunately, it’s tough to find any evidence to support it, and easy to find contradictory records.

TOMORROW: Little Josiah’s big classmate.

Lehman on “The Burning of New London” in Essex, Connecticut, 11 Jan.

I had a fine time speaking to the Essex Historical Society and guests in Connecticut last Sunday, and that Sestercentennial series of programs will continue this weekend.

On Sunday, 11 January, Eric D. Lehman will speak to the society on “The Burning of New London,” perhaps the most famous fight inside Connecticut during the Revolutionary War.

Lehman, author of Homegrown Terror: Benedict Arnold and the Burning of New London, will discuss the life of the complicated Connecticut native who led the September 6, 1781, attack on his home state. A force of 1,600 British soldiers and Loyalists captured Fort Griswold and burned down the town of New London. This dramatic story sheds light on the ethics of the dawning nation and the way colonial America responded to betrayal and terror.

Lehman is a professor of English at the University of Bridgeport and the author or editor of 22 books, including New England Nature, A History of Connecticut Food, and the award-winning Becoming Tom Thumb.

All the society’s Winter Lecture Series talks are free and open to the public in Hamilton Hall at the Essex Meadows community, 30 Bokum Road in Essex. Doors open at 3 P.M., with the talk scheduled to begin at 3:30. Seating is on a first-come, first-served basis, and the society asks attendees to register in advance.

Knox Trail Commemorations on 10–11 Jan.

The Sestercentennial commemorations of Col. Henry Knox’s mission to bring more heavy artillery to the siege lines around Boston will move from New York into Massachusetts this upcoming weekend.

There are both outdoor and indoor events in the works, with contingency plans for especially bad weather.

Saturday, 10 January, 10 to 11 A.M.
Massachusetts & New York State Line Commemoration
General Henry Knox Cannon Trail Marker, Route 71, Alford

Revolution 250, Saratoga 250, the Daughters of the American Revolution, many state and local officials, miltiia reenactors, and a Henry Knox interpreter will commemorate the Noble Train’s passage from New York into Massachusetts. A wreath-laying ceremony at the marker will conclude the joint observance. There is limited parking and access at this site, so members of the public are urged to attend one of the other events planned for the day. Link

Saturday, 10 January, 11:30 A.M. to 1 P.M.
The Knox Train of Artillery
Hillside Firehouse, Hillsdale, New York

The town will host costumed re-enactors from Fort Ticonderoga in an entertaining, educational program about how the train of artillery passed through North Hillsdale (then called Nobletown) in 1776. Free food and beverages. Link

Saturday, 10 January, 2 to 3 P.M.
250th Anniversary Commemoration of the Henry Knox Trail
Mahaiwe Performing Arts Center, Great Barrington

Join Revolution 250, Boston Celebrations, the Daughters of the American Revolution, and citizens of the towns of Alford, North Egremont, Great Barrington, Monterey, Otis, Russell, Blandford, Sandisfield, and other towns for a commemoration of the epic 1776 trek through the Berkshires on the way to Boston. Link

Sunday, 11 January, 3:30 to 5 P.M.
Knox 250 – Blandford Cannon Salute & Bonfire Celebration
Blandford Fair Grounds

Hear a 30-minute account of Knox’s journey through Blandford told by a colorful cast of characters in their own words, including General Knox, locals, and citizen Solomon Brown, who stepped in with his oxen to help. A Revolutionary War guard will fire several cannon rounds. Free event, including refreshments.

Attendees can also go inside the Blanford Historical Society to see a slideshow of the 200th anniversary reenactment in 1976 and meet locals who participated. Check the society’s website for any changes due to weather. Link

“New Gate Prison was again broke open”

Three months and a day after he first reported a convict escaped from Connecticut’s New-Gate Prison, keeper John Viets wrote out a second notice for the newspapers.

Here’s the text as it appeared in Hartford’s Connecticut Courant on 3 May 1774:

Simsbury, April 11, 1774.

LAST Saturday night the prisoners in New Gate Prison in Simsbury opened a way that had been in part stop’d up, that led from the place of their confinement into an old deep shaft that was partly filled with rocks & stones;

William Johnson Crawford, and Daniel Humphry (sometimes called Daniel Collyer Humphry) being more bold than the rest, ventured to pull away the stones from over their heads, and to work upwards in the old shaft, and so these two in the shaft pulled down the stones and the other three prisoners be low removed them out of the way to keep a communication between them, and all promised themselves a speedy escape—

when (at about three o’clock in the morning) the rock, stones, &c. in the shaft all gave away, and sunk into the shaft, where Crawford and Humphry were at work, to the great consternation of the three other prisoners, who say they really believe that Crawford and Humphry are both buried under the stones, &c.—but whether they are buried there or by some means escaped appears uncertain to those who have viewed the place, but rather conjecture the latter.

Therefore, this is to give notice, that if any person or persons will take up said Crawford and Humphry, or either of them, and convey them to said New Gate, shall have Ten Dollars reward for each, paid by
JOHN VIETS, Keeper of said Prison.

N B Said Crawford is about twenty four years of age, five feet and eight inches high, black curled hair, black eyes had on a light brown broad cloth cost, red duffel trowsers. Humphry is about twenty years of age, five feet and eight inches high, had on a light brown sea jacket, and brown plush breeches, both well set, spry young men.

That advertisement ran for another week, indicating the two fugitives were unaccounted for a month after their disappearance.

The other three men were still in the prison—two horse thieves convicted alongside Humphry and a “Ruffian” who had mugged a man near Norwich for his rum.

Then the 26 April Connecticut Courant offered this notice:

Last Saturday night
New Gate Prison was again broke open, and the following persons made their escape, viz. Zephaniah Ramsdel about 27 years of age, about 5 feet 8 inches high, lightish yellow hair something short, grey eyes, thinish face; had on a black coat & vest, cloth coloured plush breeches, a blue duffel great coat, and new shoes.—

Also, John Roberts, about 40 years old, about 5 feet 9 inches high, grey eyes, and short black curled hair; had on a brownish or redish colour’d surtout, a pair leather breeches very black if not washed since, a pair old shoes.—

Also, James Williams, a short well set fellow, about 28 years old, with short black hair; had on a blue cap, a pair long nasty linnen trowsers, check shirt, and new shoes. Whoever will take up either or all of said fellows, and return them to said New Gate, shall have Fifteen Dollars reward for each, paid by
JOHN VIETS.

Simsbury, April 25, 1774.

Apparently John Roberts had recovered from falling down a shaft, as reported when he first arrived at the prison.

For those keeping score, in 1774 the colony sent six men to its new New-Gate Prison for sentences of two to ten years, and by the end of April all six of those men had disappeared. (Two of them possibly under rubble, or possibly free.)

COMING UP: A hardened criminal.

“The inexpressible Horrors of that Den of Death!”

At the end of February 1774, Connecticut’s New-Gate Prison was once again ready to house convicted criminals.

The first prisoner sent there had escaped after only a couple of weeks, but the colony paid to block off the shafts to the underground prison, a former copper mine.

On 3 March, the Norwich Packet newspaper reported:

We hear from Windham, that William Johnson Crawford, Zephaniah Ramsdale and John Roberts, all natives of this Country, were last week severally convicted of Horse-Stealing before the County Court then sitting, sentenced to four years confinement in New-Gate, and conducted thither accordingly.

N.B. Two of the above, it is said, are New-Hampshire men.

We hear that John Roberts, one of the above-mentioned unhappy Felons, destined to reside in the subterraneous New-Gate, at Simsbury; upon his Arrival at the Sink of that Infernal Mansion, dropped, or, as it is suspected, willfully plunged headlong into it: His Skull was so miserably fractured, that although those Men who conducted him there remained two Hours after the Accident happened, he was at their Departure unable to articulate a Word, and they imagine that his Peregrinations are completed.---FREEBOOTING HORSE JOCKIES beware, for a Gibbit is comparatively a Toy to the inexpressible Horrors of that Den of Death!

Shorter articles appeared in the 4 March Connecticut Gazette out of New London and the 11 March Connecticut Journal from New Haven. Those papers had nothing to say about John Roberts’s plunge.

On 7 April, the Norwich Packet added two more men to the roster of prisoners:

At the Session of the Superior Court of this Colony, which ended here on Friday last, Daniel Humphry, a Simsbury Man, convicted of breaking into the Cabin of a Vessel, in New-London Harbour, and stealing a Quantity of Coffee, was sentenced to six Years hard Labour and Confinement, in the Copper, Mine, at the Place of his Nativity.--

At the same time James Williams, a Ruffian, for assaulting Zachariah Whipple, on the Road between Norwich-Landing and Preston, and robbing him of a Bottle of Rum, received Sentence to be confined two years in the Newgate Prison at Simsbury.

In early April, therefore, the New-Gate Prison had at least five inmates, sentenced to serve from two to six years. (And apparently stealing a “Quantity of Coffee” was a worse crime than attacking someone for a “Bottle of Rum.”)  

On 12 April, Hartford’s Connecticut Courant told readers:

Last Saturday Night Daniel Humphrey and William Crawford, committed last Week to Newgate Prison, as mention’d in our last, broke out of said Prison and made their escape

It’s heart-warming how a horse thief from New Hampshire and a coffee fiend working a southern Connecticut waterfront were apparently able to run away together.

But that still left three men in New-Gate, right? Or maybe two and a half, if John Roberts was badly injured. 

TOMORROW: Escape methods. 

“Escaped from New Gate Prison at Simsbury, one John Hinson”

Exactly one month after a New Haven court sentenced John Ensign to ten years inside Connecticut’s new prison at Simsbury, as reported yesterday, he disappeared from his underground cell.

On 10 Jan 1774, John Viets, keeper of that New-Gate Prison, wrote out an advertisement for the New Haven newspaper. Here’s the text of the ad as it appeared in the 1 February Connecticut Courant, out of Hartford:

Ten Dollars Reward.

LAST Night escaped from New Gate Prison at Simsbury, one John Hinson, lately committed for Burglary, who is about 5 Feet 8 Inches high, has black Eyes, dark Hair, of a fair Complexion, and about twenty Years of Age—(he was helped out by some evil minded Persons from without).

Whoever will take up said Fellow, and return him to the Subscriber Master of said Prison, or shall discover those that aided him in his said Escape, so that they may be brought to conviction, shall have TEN DOLLARS reward, paid by
JOHN VIETS.

January 10, 1774.

Seven decades later, in 1845, Noah A. Phelps published A History of the Copper Mines and Newgate Prison, at Granby, Conn.. It was based on interviews with Viets’ descendants, so it used his spelling of the escapee’s name (Hinson) rather than what appeared in the newspaper reports of his trial (Ensign).

Phelps wrote:

The first convict received into the prison was John Hinson. He was committed Dec, 22, 1773, and escaped on the 9th of January following, by being drawn up through the eastern shaft by a rope, assisted, it is said, by a woman, to whom he was paying his addresses.

How did the Viets family know this? How confident was Phelps about this information, which he qualified by adding “it is said”?

Despite reasons for less than full certainty, subsequent histories of the Old New-Gate Prison repeat that 1845 account in a definite tone. And it may even be accurate. But in this Boston 1775 series, I’ll emphasize contemporaneous accounts.

Whether or not Viets was right in guessing the escape method, the Connecticut legislature acted quickly to prevent future departures through that shaft. By the end of the month it voted:

Upon the representation of the overseers of Newgate Prison: It is resolved by this Assembly, that said overseers be and they are hereby directed and impowered to cause the east shaft of said prison to be effectually secured with stone or iron, at their discretion, and to cause a log-house to be built and to consist of two or three rooms, one of which to be directly over the west shaft of said prison; taking care to preserve a free communication of air.

Young Ensign was gone, those officeholders might have told themselves, but he’d benefited the colony by providing a useful test of the New-Gate Prison. Now they were making that place stronger. Soon it was ready to receive more convicts.

TOMORROW: Two sets of arrivals.

John Ensign Sent to the New-Gate Prison

On 26 Nov 1773, the Connecticut Gazette of New London reported this legal news:

NEW HAVEN, Nov. 19

A few days since, a young fellow, who says his name is John Ensign, was committed to our goal, for breaking open and robbing Mr. Thompson’s Tavern in East Haven, he being taken in the house, before he had time to get off with his booty.

Brothers named Thompson helped to found East Haven, and I haven’t been able to narrow down which of their descendants ran this particular tavern. One candidate for the scene of the crime is the Stephen Thompson House, shown above in 1939. 

On the last day of the year, the New-Hampshire Gazette ran an item presumably picked up from a Connecticut newspaper, but I haven’t found the original:

One John Ensign was convicted, at the Superior Court at New-Haven, the 9th Inst. for robbing the House of Mr. Thomson of that Place, and sentenced to TEN YEARS Imprisonment in Simsbury Mines, now called New-Gate-Prison, agreeable to a late Act of the Colony of Connecticut.

A long term of imprisonment, as opposed to corporal punishment or execution, was a novelty, warranting coverage even two colonies away.

The 7 Jan 1774 Connecticut Gazette kept up the story:

NEW HAVEN, Dec. 24

The beginning of this Week, John Ensign, was conveyed from the Prison in this Town, to Newgate Prison, in Symsbury.

John Ensign thus became the first prisoner in the colony’s new prison.

Two weeks later, the Connecticut Gazette told readers:

NEW HAVEN, Jan. 14

A few Nights since, John Ensign, made his Escape from Newgate Prison.

TOMORROW: The jailer’s tale.

The New New-Gate Prison

Last month I broke off a series of postings about three men Gen. George Washington sent to Simsbury, Connecticut, to be locked up in the New-Gate Prison.

Now I’m returning to that topic, but first I’m going back to fill in the background of that prison.

In the eighteenth-century British Empire, convicted criminals didn’t usually get sentenced to extended prison terms, with the perpetrator housed and fed by the state.

Instead, the most serious offenses, from murder down to major or repeated property crimes, were deemed worthy of death. Lesser infractions might bring corporal punishment like whipping or public exposure. (For assaults, it was often up to the victim to sue for damages.)

In October 1773 the Connecticut legislature voted to convert an unprofitable copper mine into a prison to house criminals for long periods. Henceforth, men convicted of burglary, robbery, and counterfeiting would be confined underground for up to ten years, or for life if they had already been convicted once. They were expected to work the mine. By modern standards that was harsh, but in this era it was an almost experimental reform.

The colony paid to build a blockhouse over the vertical entrance to the mine and to dig out living quarters below. As “Master or Keeper of said prison,” the legislature appointed John Viets (1712–1777), who ran a nearby tavern, shown above. He was a former Simsbury selectman and militia captain, respected in the community. He hired guards, many appearing to be laid-off miners; they were expected to train the prisoners in digging.

The new prison was dubbed New-Gate, after a famous jail in London. Those two places had little in common, but Americans didn’t know many other lock-ups to compare theirs to.

On 9 Dec 1773, a court in New Haven handed down the first sentence sending a man to New-Gate Prison.

TOMORROW: The first prisoner.

“Time turns his Glass, and round the Pole Another Year begins to roll”

In 1775 the British artist John Hamilton Mortimer issued a series of prints titled Twelve Characters from Shakespeare.

One of those portraits showed Edgar from King Lear, in his guise as Poor Tom the madman, as shown here.

Among that character’s lines was “Poor Tom’s a-cold.”

Two hundred fifty years ago today, the young carriers of the Pennsylvania Evening Post quoted that line as they regaled their customers with this poem.

New-Year’s Verses,
Addressed to the CUSTOMERS of
The PENNSYLVANIA EVENING POST,
By the PRINTER’s LADS who carry it.

MONDAY, JANUARY 1, 1776.

“POOR TOM’s a cold”---God bless you, Masters,
And save you all from all Disasters!
Time turns his Glass, and round the Pole
Another Year begins to roll:
Welcome the new, adieu the old,
For every Year Poor Tom’s a-cold.

Sages have said, and Bards have sung,
That long ago, when Time was young,
The World enjoy’d a golden Age:
No Dog-Star kindled then to Rage;
No Summer’s Drought, nor Winter’s Snow,
Forbade the limpid Stream to flow:
No Torrents of descending Rain
With Desolation spread the Plain:
No languid Air, with sickly Breath,
Diffused the pois’nous Seeds of Death:
No Comet’s Blaze, of horrid Light,
Shot thro’ the Curtain of the Night;
No chilling Blast flew howling by,
No Lightnings rent the burning Sky,
Nor Thunder shook the rolling Sphere.
One genial SPRING was all the Year.
Then were the Hills and Vallies seen
Forever blooming, ever green;
And, like the Season, mild and gay,
Man liv’d a Stranger to dismay;
For smiling Peace, with Plenty crown’d,
Gave Health and Joy to all around.
No Din of War, no civil Hate,
Were then the chastening Rods of Fate.
O had I seen those Days of old!
But now, alas! Poor Tom’s a-cold:
But you, who live with Hearts at Ease,
Will surely never let him freeze.
Sweet Madam, Gentle Sir, Good-morrow;
God keep you free from Pain and Sorrow,
And let me hope, ere long, to boast
Good News!----Good News!----in the EVENING POST.

This example of carriers’ verse is interesting in how little it says about current affairs. The American colonies were at war with the London government, but the only possible allusion to that was the mention of “civil Hate.”

Earlier American examples of these verses reveled in the patriotism that the newspaper employees and their customers supposedly shared, heaping disdain on foreign enemies like France and Spain. But in a time of civil war, loyalties were more problematic. Better to talk about the weather.

That wasn’t because the printer of the Pennsylvania Evening Post, Benjamin Towne, kept away from politics. He supported the colonial resistance and independence, and a year later his 1777 carriers’ verse celebrated, “Shout, George is King no more.”

Of course, the British army occupied Philadelphia late that year. In 1778 Towne’s carriers offered lines praising Gen. Sir William Howe to the skies.

Five Revolutionary Authors Recommending Five Revolutionary Books

Shepherd is a website founded by Ben Fox to provide a forum for book recommendations, like “little notes from the [indie bookstore] staff about which books are their favorites and why.”

The site offers authors the chance to highlight five books of a particular sort (with some exposure for their own work, of course).

Here are some offerings about America’s Revolutionary era.

Prof. Joel Richard Paul, author of Unlikely Allies: How a Merchant, a Playwright, and a Spy Saved the American Revolution and Without Precedent: Chief Justice Marshall and His Times, on “The best books on the American Revolution.” Mainly solid overviews.

Ray Raphael, author of Founding Myths, Constitutional Myths, A People’s History of the American Revolution, and The Spirit of ’74, among other books, on “The best books to expand and deepen your view of the American Revolution.” Getting beyond the standard stories.

Tom Shachtman, author of The Founding Fortunes: How the Wealthy Paid for and Profited from America’s Revolution, on “The best books on lesser-known figures in the American Revolution and early years.” Following the money.

Prof. James R. Fichter, author of Tea: Consumption, Politics, and Revolution, 1773–1776, on “The best books that made me think twice about the American Revolution.” Novel perspectives.

Prof. Richard Bell, author of the new The American Revolution and the Fate of the World, on “The best books on the American Revolution as a World War.” Broader views in space and time.

The Fort Plain Museum bookstore has a Revolutionary War section ranging well beyond its own region in central New York, with generous terms on shipping and the proceeds going to support a historic site.

“Everything he can to build a standing army that he can use domestically”

Earlier this month, Prof. Noah Shusterman, author of Armed Citizens: From Ancient Rome to the Second Amendment, shared an essay through H.N.N. titled “Deploying Federal Troops to U.S. Cities Is a Second Amendment Issue.”

Here’s a taste:

The Second Amendment was meant to prevent events like the Boston Massacre… The amendment was meant to prevent the government from turning its military into an occupying force, as the British were doing when they began stationing troops in Boston. It is also what our current president is trying to do when he sends federal troops into Los Angeles. Or Portland. Or Chicago. Or, eventually, New York and Boston.

The courts have been treating those deployments as Tenth Amendment issues, or as potential violations of the 1878 Posse Comitatus Act, but back when the Bill of Rights was written, the domestic deployment of federal troops was the Second Amendment issue. And if the courts understood that, we would be in much less of a mess right now. In 2025, the amendment might be about privately owned guns, but when the Bill of Rights was ratified in 1791, it was about the military — specifically, the threat that a nation’s military could pose to its own people, as it had in Boston during the 1770s, when the British government began stationing troops there. . . .

In the years immediately following independence, neither the state militias’ shortcomings on the battlefield during the Revolution, nor the Continental Army’s successes, made Americans any less wary of peacetime standing armies. Leaders of the founding generation still believed that because a professional soldier relied on his job for his livelihood, his allegiance was to his commander, not his nation. (The current commander-in-chief recently endorsed this view, albeit unknowingly, when he told an audience of military leaders that “if you don’t like what I’m saying, you can leave the room. Of course, there goes your rank, there goes your future.”) . . .

In Second Amendment terms, this president is doing everything he can to build a standing army that he can use domestically against his own population. If the Second Amendment’s self-proclaimed supporters both inside and outside the courts appreciated the significance of these policies, and how contrary they are to the amendment’s original goals, the nation might be in a better place right now. In deploying federal police and military units as an occupying force, the president is doing precisely what the amendment was meant to prevent.

I write this from Washington, D.C., where the President has summoned over 2,600 National Guard troops from multiple states. While traveling to libraries, I see small groups of young people in uniform pulled away from their homes and jobs to stand around in subway stations and parks. Courts have disagreed about the constitutionality of that order and others, with the President getting even more deference than usual in the federal district.

The President claims this authority based on laws speaking of “invasion” and “rebellion,” neither of which applies, and he also claims he’s acting against “crime.” This same President is a convicted criminal who pardoned about 1,600 people for attacking the U.S. Capitol on his behalf in January 2021.

Wartime with “A New-York Freeholder”

“A New-York Freeholder” didn’t continue his newspaper debate with Israel Putnam, quoted over the last two days.

Hugh Gaine had published long essays from the “Freeholder” addressed “To the Inhabitants of North-America” in five successive issues of the New-York Gazette from 12 September to 10 October. One of those essays even crowded out other items.

The main target of the “Freeholder” was the Continental Congress and the ideology that led to it. His last essay criticized military preparations in New England and calls for non-importation. He treated Putnam’s letter about the “Powder Alarm” as simply a symptom of a deeper problem.

The “New-York Freeholder” was the Rev. Charles Inglis (1734–1816), recently made the senior curate at Trinity Church in New York. He was a native of Ireland but attached to the Anglican Church, even arguing for the unpopular idea of bishops in North America.

(This was not the Charles Inglis who commanded H.M.S. Lizard in 1770–71, H.M.S. Salisbury in 1778–80, and H.M.S. St. Albans in 1780–83, and who made one previous appearance on Boston 1775.)

According to the Rev. Mr. Inglis, he ceased his “Freeholder” essays after deciding that the Congress was hopelessly committed to “revolt and independency,” based on its adoption of the Suffolk Resolves and the proclamations it issued in mid-October 1774. So he never responded to Putnam.

After Thomas Paine issued Common Sense in early 1775, Inglis composed a reply titled The Deceiver Unmasked, printed by Samuel Loudon. Soon after copies were advertised for sale, Patriots broke into Loudon’s shop, seized all the copies, and burned them. Inglis was able to have the pamphlet reprinted in Philadelphia under the title The True Interest of America Impartially Stated.

In mid-1776, Gen. George Washington attended Trinity Church. As the minister told it, a lesser American general asked him to omit the usual prayers for the king from the service. Inglis defiantly refused. A few months later, the British military kicked the Continentals out of the city.

Inglis spent the rest of the war inside British-occupied New York, having become the rector of Trinity Church. In June–July 1782 he pulled out the “New-York Freeholder” name again for six essays in Rivington’s New-York Gazette.

The next year Inglis and his family moved to Britain, though most of the Trinity Church congregation went to Halifax. In 1787 the Crown sent him back across the Atlantic to be bishop of Nova Scotia—the first Anglican bishop in North America.