“Fully compensate for all the Insults and Indignities”?

Enemies to Their Country: The Marblehead Addressers and Consensus in the American Revolution is Nicholas W. Gentile’s first book, just published by the University of Massachusetts Press.

Timothy Symington’s review for the Journal of the American Revolution says:

Marblehead was an important fishing community, with an aristocracy created by the cod fishing industry. . . . the town’s harmony was threatened by the signatures of thirty-three residents to a letter published in the Essex Gazette in May 1774. The letter was a “send-off” to departing governor Thomas Hutchinson. . . . The thirty-three residents who added their names to the letter were hoping that Hutchinson would return to London and try to use his influence to calm the situation.

The letter thanked Hutchinson for his involvement on behalf of the fishing industry, and then ended on a conciliatory note: “‘We heartily wish you, Sir, a safe and prosperous Passage to Great-Britain, and when you arrive there may you find such a Reception, as shall fully compensate for all the Insults and Indignities which have been offered you.’”

The idea of apologizing to a man like Hutchinson was anathema to many who subscribed to the Patriot cause (which, at this point, meant a return to no taxation and stopping the abridgement of British liberties). Most of the Marblehead residents considered themselves Whigs and were incensed at the letter. Gentile describes the importance of everyone in the community at that time in history being on the same page. Giving up one’s individual needs for the common good helped to create social harmony. . . .

Most Addressers ended up offering recantations, and some then took active roles in fighting on the Patriot side after war broke out. Some Addressers were truly contrite and regretted signing the letter, claiming that they did not truly understand Hutchinson’s character. Other Addressers took a longer time to recant, which some did more than once since their first attempts were not accepted by the community. All Addressers did recant at some point, but some of them could not reconcile their politics for the good of the community.

The Marblehead Addresser I’ve written about most was John Pedrick, who after another century was turned into a Patriot hero through the stories of his daughter and granddaughter.

Gentile will speak about his book at the Marblehead Museum on Thursday, 6 November, at 7 P.M. For tickets to attend that event in person, go to this page. To watch online, go here. Tickets are $15, or $10 for museum members.

“The history that does work in the world”

At the end of 1929 Prof. Carl Becker (1873–1945) of Cornell University addressed the American Historical Association as its president.

Among Becker’s previous books were The History of Political Parties in the Province of New York, 1760–1776; The Eve of the Revolution: A Chronicle of the Breach with England; and The Declaration of Independence: A Study in the History of Political Ideas.

He tended to study the formal political history of legislation and pamphleteering, though with a slightly jaundiced eye about what good that activity did.

The title of Becker’s talk in 1929 was “Everyman His Own Historian,” and it addressed the gap between the academic historian’s approach to the past and that of “an ordinary citizen without excess knowledge” or representative of “every normal person,” Mr. Everyman. (The norm, of course, being male.)

Becker said:

Mr. Everyman has a wholesome respect for cold, hard facts, never suspecting how malleable they are, how easy it is to coax and cajole them; but he necessarily takes the facts as they come to him, and is enamored of those that seem best suited to his interests or promise most in the way of emotional satisfaction. The exact truth of remembered events he has in any case no time, and no need, to curiously question or meticulously verify.

No doubt he can, if he be an American, call up an image of the signing of the Declaration of Independence in 1776 as readily as he can call up an image of Smith’s coal wagons creaking up the hill last summer. He suspects the one image no more than the other; but the signing of the Declaration, touching not his practical interests, calls for no careful historical research on his part.

He may perhaps, without knowing why, affirm and hold in memory that the Declaration was signed by the members of the Continental Congress on the fourth of July. It is a vivid and sufficient image which Mr. Everyman may hold to the end of his days without incurring penalties. Neither Brown nor Smith has any interest in setting him right; nor will any court ever send him a summons for failing to recall that the Declaration, “being engrossed and compared at the table, was signed by the members” on the second of August.

As an actual event, the signing of the Declaration was what it was; as a remembered event it will be, for Mr. Everyman, what Mr. Everyman contrives to make it: will have for him significance and magic, much or little or none at all, as it fits well or ill into his little world of interests and aspirations and emotional comforts.

But of course Becker concluded with a slightly jaundiced view of his own profession’s work:

Berate him as we will for not reading our books, Mr. Everyman is stronger than we are, and sooner or later we must adapt our knowledge to his necessities. Otherwise he will leave us to our own devices, leave us it may be to cultivate a species of dry professional arrogance growing out of the thin soil of antiquarian research. Such research, valuable not in itself but for some ulterior purpose, will be of little import except in so far as it is transmuted into common knowledge. The history that lies inert in unread books does no work in the world.

The history that does work in the world, the history that influences the course of history, is living history, that pattern of remembered events, whether true or false, that enlarges and enriches the collective specious present, the specious present of Mr. Everyman. It is for this reason that the history of history is a record of the “new history” that in every age rises to confound and supplant the old.

It should be a relief to us to renounce omniscience, to recognize that every generation, our own included, will, must inevitably, understand the past and anticipate the future in the light of its own restricted experience, must inevitably play on the dead whatever tricks it finds necessary for its own peace of mind.

“Great Trade to Bilbao” Symposium in Salem, 8 Nov.

On Saturday, 8 November, Salem State University will host a symposium titled “’To Drive a Great Trade to Bilbao’: Rediscovering New England’s Iberian Ties, 1640s–c.1830.”

This scholarly event coincides with the Marblehead Museum’s ongoing exhibition “Bilbao Bound,” created with the Itsasmuseum Bilbao (Bilbao Maritime Museum).

The symposium brings together an international group of historians and curators to examine a largely forgotten aspect of early New England history: the trading connections between Boston’s North Shore and the Spanish Basque port of Bilbao. Those commercial ties played a part in securing Spanish Crown support for the American Revolution.

10 to 11:30 A.M.
“Bilbao Bound” exhibit tour
Donald C. Carleton, Jr., guest curator
Marblehead Museum

All the symposium presentations will take place in the Petrowski Room of Marsh Hall at Salem State University.

1:30 to 1:45 P.M.
Greetings and Welcome
Brad Austin, Chairman, History Department, Salem State University
Rafael Orbegozo Guzmán, Advisor to the Chairman, Iberdrola

1:45 to 2:05 P.M.
“James G. Lydon and the Rediscovery of New England’s Iberian Trade(s)”
Donald C. Carleton, Jr., exhibit curator

2:15 to 3:45 P.M.
New England and Iberia: Peoples, Ports, Perspectives

• “Dowries of Cod and Prayers against Shipwreck: Women and Their Atlantic World in the Early Modern Basque Country” by Amanda L. Scott, Associate Professor of History and Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies, The Pennsylvania State University
• “El papel de cádiz en las primeras redes comerciales atlántico-mediterráneas de nueva inglaterra (1770–1820)” [“The Role of Cádiz in the early Atlantic-Mediterranean Commercial Networks of New England (1770–1820)”] by Guadalupe Carrasco-Gonzalez, Profesora Titular, Universidad de Cádiz via Zoom
• “Fish for Faience: Archaeological Evidence of Early New England’s Trade with Portugal” by Emerson Baker, Professor of History, Salem State University

Moderator: Donald C. Carleton, Jr.

4:00 to 5:15 P.M.
Yankees, Cod, Spain, and Revolution

• “Spain and the American Revolution: The View from Madrid” by Larrie D. Ferreiro, George Mason University
• “Fish to Firearms: How Lee, Gerry, and Gardoqui Helped Arm a Revolution” by José Manuel Guerrero Acosta, Project Director and Curator, Spain and the Support for the American Revolution, a Project by Iberdrola

Moderator: Dane Morrison, Professor Emeritus of Early American History, Salem State University

5:15 to 5:30 P.M.
Concluding Remarks
Brad Austin

The symposium is free, but attendees must register in advance. For in-person seats, sign up here. To watch the presentations online, use this link.

A New Job for the Rev. Edward Bass

As the Revolutionary War wore on, the Rev. Edward Bass of Newburyport sent letters to the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts (S.P.G.) in London, begging to remain in good standing as an Anglican minister.

Bass asked congregants and colleagues to write and even speak to people in London on his behalf. They argued that he’d never embraced the new American governments and merely compromised on small matters for the good of his congregation.

By the end of 1781 the S.P.G. had considered Bass’s case three times, and each time it came to the same conclusion: he was no longer behaving like a loyal representative of the Church of England.

In 1786 the minister appears to have given up on getting anything but the last word since he paid to publish his side of the case in London:

A Brief Account of the Treatment which Mr. Bass, Late Missionary from the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts, at Newburyport, New England, Hath Received from Said Society. Drawn up by Himself, with Remarks upon Particular Parts of It, and Addressed to the Impartial Public.

Even as Bass burned his personal bridges, other American Anglicans were trying to build new ones before the supply of priests ran out.

American ministers were casting about for how to institute a national church hierarchy while being independent from the British Crown. Previously all aspiring Anglican priests had gone to England to be ordained since there were no bishops in North America. (Indeed, the threat of a bishop had kept many New Englanders in a state of alarm for years before the war.) And as part of that ordination, men swore the Oath of Supremacy, promising loyalty to the monarch of Great Britain.

In 1783 the formerly Anglican clergymen of Connecticut gathered and elected their first bishop: Samuel Seabury (1729–1796, shown here). Yes, this was the same pamphleteer who serves as the voice of Loyalism in Hamilton. Seabury went to Britain, seeking people in authority to consecrate him as an American bishop, and eventually found those officials in the Scottish Episcopal Church, which had slightly different rites.

In 1785 Seabury began to ordain new ministers in America, and a general convention of former Anglicans drafted a constitution and proposed an American Book of Common Prayer. American representatives negotiated with Church of England officials. To preserve some authority, the English episcopate decided to make some compromises.

In February 1787 bishops in London consecrated two American ministers as bishops. A second general convention in Philadelphia in July–August 1789, with delegations from New York south to South Carolina, approved an Episcopal Church constitution and formed a House of Deputies and House of Bishops.

Meanwhile, in May 1789 formerly Anglican ministers from New England had convened in Salem. They elected a bishop for Massachusetts and Rhode Island. And the man they chose was the senior minister in the state, the chair of their convention, a man who had stuck it out through the war: the Rev. Edward Bass.

The convention in Philadelphia approved of that choice. However, New Englanders had come to value having some say in the choice of their clergy, and only ministers had voted for Bass. Therefore, there was another, broader election for a bishop of Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and New Hampshire seven years later in 1796. The Right Rev. Mr. Bass was officially consecrated the following year.

“Mr. Bass was conducted into his deviations”

The Rev. Edward Bass of Newburyport was under pressure from both sides during the Revolutionary War.

As a minister in the Church of England, still feeling personal loyalty to the Crown, he tried to avoid complying with the independent governments’ demands.

But that exposed him to attacks from the Patriot populace. On 4 May 1782 the Rev. Jacob Bailey (1731–1808, profile shown here), an Anglican minister who moved around the New England frontier, wrote to the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts (S.P.G.) in London:

I am very confident, both from the repeated assertions of Mr. Bass himself, and other circumstances, that he refused to read the Declaration of Independency, and he became, on that account, extremely obnoxious to the violent party.

I am certain that he was publicly reported for a Tory, and I was, one evening just upon my arrival at his house, witness to a scene equally ludicrous and indecent, for as he was returning from an entertainment with his wife, he was pursued along the street by near two hundred persons, who pelted him with dirt and stones, and treated him with the most indelicate language.

Meanwhile, Anglican ministers who had fled New England complained that Bass was too compliant toward the Patriot authorities. The Rev. Joshua Wingate Weeks of Marblehead reported that Bass had preached in support of American soldiers—and he said he’d heard that from Bailey.

Bailey wrote his 1782 letter to refute that charge. He recalled:

being compelled to leave my family to avoid confinement on board a guard ship, I wandered through the country, and about the middle of November came to Newburyport, and was at Church on a day of public thanksgiving appointed by the Congress. Mr. Bass desired me to preach, but I refused, assuring him that I would never deliver a charity sermon to collect money for clothing the rebel soldiers.

This I repeated soon after to Mr. Weeks, but, as nearly as I can remember, Mr. Bass gave us a general discourse, without descending to particulars, or even mentioning the occasion of the solemnity. After sermon, the collection was made. Many refused to contribute, and a lady of some distinction declared with a spirited voice, “I will never give a single penny towards the support of rebels.” This bold declaration was perhaps the occasion of my retaining the above in my memory.

On the whole, I am persuaded that Mr. Bass was conducted into his deviations, not from even the least inclination to the cause of the revolters, but from a mistaken zeal for the Church, which, he imagined, in some measure, would justify his compliance.

As noted yesterday, by 1776 Bass had stopped receiving the half of his salary paid by the S.P.G. Later in the war he realized his situation was even worse: the organization had marked the St. Paul’s pulpit as empty, no longer recognizing his existence as a minister.

TOMORROW: Routes to reinstatement?

“In Lieu of that Part of his Salary received annually from England”

New England’s Puritan heritage made those colonies less than welcoming for the Church of England.

There was an Anglican missionary organization called the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts (S.P.G.). It paid for ministers to visit Native American communities.

It also supplemented the salaries of ministers in New England on the assumption that their congregations were small and their work difficult.

The Rev. Edward Bass was one of those ministers. He was born in 1726 in Dorchester into a family that had arrived early in the English settlement of Massachusetts. He studied at Harvard College and spent a couple of years teaching and preaching in Congregationalist meetings.

But by 1752 Bass decided that he really belonged in the Church of England. He sailed to Britain to be ordained, returning to take up the pulpit of St. Paul’s church in Newburyport.

Twenty years later came the war. As quoted yesterday, news of the Declaration of Independence prompted the wardens and vestrymen of St. Paul’s to ask their minister to leave prayers for King George III and his family out of their services for the sake of the church. On 16 July 1776 the Rev. Mr. Bass agreed: “I think it incumbent on me for so important an end to comply with this request during the present state of our political affairs.”

Bass tried to walk a narrow line. He dropped the public prayers for the king but continued to support the Crown personally. When the Massachusetts Council ordered all ministers to read the Declaration of Independence to their congregations, he declined to declaim it from the St. Paul’s church pulpit but evidently allowed a lower church official to do so.

But already other Anglican ministers were complaining about Bass’s conduct. On 15 July 1775 the Rev. Dr. Henry Caner of King’s Chapel in Boston had written to the S.P.G.: “Mr. Bass has complied perhaps too far with the orders of the Rebels.”

The war stopped the S.P.G.’s regular payment to Bass. On 25 Nov 1776, nine Newburyport men signed this pledge:

We the Subscribers of St. Paul’s Church in this town being truly sensible of the Distress which our worthy minister must suffer without some Relief in Lieu of that Part of his Salary received annually from England, and which the present unhappy Times prevent his obtaining, do promise to pay on Demand to Mr. John Vinal the several sums affixed to our Names to be by him delivered to the Rev. Mr. Bass.

The promised amounts ranged between £10 from Tristram Dalton and John Tracy to 18 shillings from Abram Gallisham. As for Vinal the schoolteacher and church warden, his signature doesn’t appear on this document. Perhaps he chipped in on his own, or perhaps his contribution lay in wrangling the contributions of others.

TOMORROW: Did that settle matters?

The “Doctrine of Projectiles” and Other Doctrines

On 10 Aug 1775, the Newburyport schoolmaster John Vinal wrote out the text of a new advertisement to appear in the next day’s Essex Journal and succeeding issues.

That was nearly four months into the war, and Vinal’s ad reflected that situation:

AT a Time when our Enemies are endeavouring our Ruin it is highly proper to qualify ourselves in the best Manner we can to defend our injured Country:

And as the Doctrine of Projectiles, or Art of GUNNERY is of such Importance that no Person should undertake the Direction of any Piece of Ordnance without a competent Knowledge of it, the Want of which has proved fatal to many:

The Subscriber therefore proposes to instruct those who may incline to attend four Afternoons in a Week, from five to seven o’Clock, or from eleven to one A.M. [sic] in the above Art at a very moderate Price

JOHN VINAL.

N.B. The Subscriber received his Knowledge of the above Art from a Gentleman who was an Engineer in the British Army the whole of the last War.

Newbury Port, August 10th, 1775.

In April and October 1776 Vinal went back to advertising private lessons for the “youth of both sexes” in the standard school subjects, not gunnery.

Vinal was also a warden of St. Paul’s, the town’s Anglican church, founded in 1711. On 16 July 1776 he, fellow warden Joseph Cutler, and eight vestrymen gave this letter to their minister, the Rev. Edward Bass (1726–1803):

Rev’d Sir;—

The Representatives of the United Colonies in America, having in Congress declared s’d colonies free and Independent States, and disavowed all Allegiance to the King of Britain and the service of the Church to which we belong, prescribing certain prayers, &c., to be used for s’d King, his Family & Government, We find ourselves under the necessity of requesting you to omit in your use of the Service all Prayers, Collects, or Suffrages which relate to the King, Royal Family, or Government of Great Britain, both as we would avoid great Inconsistency and as we value the welfare of the church, being assured that without such omission the Existence thereof would immediately cease.

Most of Boston’s Anglican clergymen had left with the British military, and others in Massachusetts were keeping a low profile. Bass had to worry about local opinion, his congregation, his sacred oaths—and his salary.

TOMORROW: A special collection.

“To open his EVENING-SCHOOL, as usual”

Isaiah Thomas and Henry-Walter Tinges launched the Essex Journal newspaper in Newburyport in 1773.

Among its advertisers was town schoolmaster John Vinal, offering private lessons in a broad range of subjects. His notice on 5 Oct 1774 said:

JOHN VINAL,
INTENDS to open his EVENING-SCHOOL, as usual at the NORTH-SCHOOL the 10th Instant, for Writing and the several practical Branches of the Mathematics, enumerated in a former Advertisement of his.

Alas, I haven’t found that “former Advertisement.” 

On 15 Mar 1775 Vinal was more expansive:

JOHN VINAL,
ACQUAINTS his Friends that he intends to begin his private School for Youth of both Sexes, on Monday the third of April next at 11 o’Clock A.M. in the room he improved the last Summer, nearly opposite Mr. Davenport’s Tavern, and from 5 to 7 o’Clock, P.M. at the Town School House for those who can best attend in the Afternoon.

N.B. The Said VINAL has a very genteel BOWFAT, with a Glass Door to dispose of, very cheap, for almost any Pay that will suit the Purchaser.

A what now?

A week later the same ad ran again except the item offered for sale was “a very genteel BUFFET, (commonly pronounced Bowfat,) with a Glass Door.”

Ah.

Dr. Samuel Johnson’s dictionary defined a buffet this way:

”Mr. Davenport’s Tavern” referred to the tavern started by William Davenport and inherited by his sons Anthony and Moses in 1773. Its sign showed Gen. James Wolfe, so it was also called the Wolfe Tavern.

Vinal’s eagerness to sell that genteel piece of furniture suggests a need for quick cash. Of course, he often seems to have wanted extra cash. But the spring of 1775 wasn’t the best time for selling a luxury item, especially one you didn’t know how to spell.

TOMORROW: War!

“A Sett of Globes (which came over by Mistake)”?

In eighteenth-century New England, booksellers sold more than books, pamphlets, and magazines. 

As the business letters of Thomas Hancock and Henry Knox show, they also purveyed medicines, tea, “Instruments,” quills, stationery, snuff, and other genteel goods.

In the spring or summer of 1773, Knox received a set of globes from one of his London suppliers. This set probably consisted of a terrestrial globe—the spherical representation of Earth that we’re used to—and a celestial globe showing the constellations and other stars.

We have a bunch of Knox’s incoming correspondence, published by the Massachusetts Historical Society in 1928, but I don’t see a clue about who sent those globes.

Some London merchants, such as the publisher Thomas Longman, just shipped Knox the latest magazines and the books reviewed in those magazines without waiting for an order. So it’s possible one of the young bookseller’s suppliers put those globes on a ship expecting he would find a market for them.

Fortunately, a customer appeared. On 6 August, the schoolmaster John Vinal wrote to Knox from Newburyport:

Mr. [Tristram?] Dalton informed me that you had a Sett of Globes (which came over by Mistake) that you would dispose of at the Sterling Cost and Charges. I was just going to write to London for such a Sett; but if you have not disposed of yours, and the price is agreeable, and they are the right sort I will purchase them. I should be glad of a Line immediately; you may inclose one to me directed to my Friend Mr. Wm. Miller Collector.

I should be glad to know the following particulars, vizt. Whither they are Senex’s Globes—who they are made by, if they have a Magnetic Needle and Card, if they have a Nonius Scale and Analemma, Quadrant of Altitude, etc. and what Cases they are in. . . .

Please to express the Price either in Sterling or L[awful] M[one]y.

As published, this letter told Knox to send mail through “Wm. Millen,” but the deputy collector of customs in Newburyport was another of Knox’s customers, William Miller. Since Vinal was officially a handwriting master, you’d think he’d render his friend’s name unmistakably.

As a teacher of adult classes in navigation, among other subjects, Vinal’s wanted to know this product’s features. “Senex’s Globes” meant those modeled on the work of cartographer John Senex (1678–1740). A “Nonius Scale” was the invention of the Portuguese scientist Pedro Nuñez (1492–1577). An “Analemma” is the figure-8 pattern traced by the Sun when viewed from the same spot day after day over a full year.

As for the price, that probably depended on how large these globes were. Sets ranged from small enough to fit in a pocket to large enough to count as furniture, and their price tags were proportional.

Did Knox and Vinal close the deal? We don’t know because we don’t have both sides of the bookseller’s correspondence. But on 27 June the Rev. John Murray had written to Knox from Boothbay in Maine asking for “one pair of 18 inch Globes.” (Murray also complained about how Knox had supplied “Copies of the Classical authors,” nonetheless ordered some other books, and asked how to reach Knox’s childhood friend the Rev. David McClure.) So if those globes from London were 18 inches across, they were probably on their way past Newburyport to Boothbay.

TOMORROW: Mr. Vinal’s notices.

A New Schoolmaster for a New Town

In January 1764 the Massachusetts General Court passed a law allowing part of the town of Newbury to split off as the new town of Newburyport.

The new town held its first meeting on 8 February, choosing a clerk, selectmen, and other officials. The inhabitants also chose a committee to determine what schoolhouses the children needed. They decided to keep paying the masters of the Newbury grammar and writing schools for now.

In March that committee recommended:

that at least three large schools should be provided and maintained in sd. Town, viz: one Grammar school not far from the Revd. Mr. [John] Lowel’s meeting house, and two reading, writing & arithmetick schools, one of them adjoining to Queen street, Ordua Lane, or Bartlet’s Lane, preferring the latter, and the other adjoining or near Cross street or Elbow Lane.

That summer, the town bought some land on what is now Winter Street, beside Route 1, and started building a schoolhouse.

To oversee that school the selectmen hired John Vinal, usher of Boston’s South Writing-School. They offered him £80 per year, significantly more than he had been earning in Boston though less than what the bigger town’s schoolmasters earned. In addition, each pupil was to bring “two pistareens” to pay for firewood used during the year.

The selectmen announced: “Boys that can read in a Psalter will be received and carefully taught Reading, Writing & Arithmetick.” The school would meet 8 A.M. to noon and 1 to 4 P.M.

Vinal’s school opened on Monday, 5 November, with the Rev. Mr. Lowell and the selectmen present. Given that Newbury’s youth usually celebrated Pope Night with a big procession and bonfire, I imagine that student body was rather antsy that day.

John Vinal continued to look for ways to supplement his salary. The town needed to survey the “common and undivided land” near the Frog Pond, and in 1771 Vinal produced the map shown above, shared by History Newburyport. Around the pond it shows a burying-ground, a potash house, a ropewalk, a powderhouse, and a windmill.

TOMORROW: Vinal’s lessons.

John Vinal “continues to keep a private School”

Back in September I quoted John Adams’s account from 17 Apr 1764 of meeting a man who had taken the smallpox inoculation before him:

My Unkle [Dr. Zabdiel Boylston?] brought up one Vinal who has just recoverd of it in the natural Way to see Us, and show Us. His face is torn all to Pieces, and is as rugged as Braintree Commons.

That couldn’t have been very encouraging.

That man was John Vinal (1736–1823), the usher, or assistant teacher, at Boston’s South Writing School under Abiah Holbrook.

The Boston Athenaeum has a painting of Vinal, apparently copied from an earlier canvas around 1900. I’ll have to look for smallpox scars the next time I see it.

On 15 May Vinal petitioned the Boston town meeting “that an allowance may be made him, in consideration of the Straits and Difficultys he has been reduced to by means of the Small Pox.” After some debate the town voted to pay Vinal £15 on top of his usual salary of £50.

That was just one way Vinal augmented his town salary. Like other town teachers, he offered private lessons. As early as 1756 he advertised an evening school for adults. This 15 Sept 1760 Boston Evening-Post notice lays out his subjects:

John Vinal
Hereby gives Notice, that he intends an Evening-School will be opened as usual, at the South Writing School, the 29th of this Instant, where Persons may be taught Writing, Arithmetic, Algebra, &c. also Book-keeping, in so plain a Method, that any Person of a common Capacity, may in a short Time, at a small Expence, be able to keep his own Accompts with Exactness.

In the 3 Oct 1763 Boston Post-Boy Vinal promised to cover “Reading, Writing, Arithmetic vulgar and decimal, Navigation and several Branches of the Mathematics; also the Italian Manner of Bookkeeping.”

That still left some free hours of the day. The boys at the town schools went home for their midday dinners, and then again at the end of the day. Master Holbrook probably had his own private pupils come into the South Writing School at that time, so where did that leave Vinal?

He hustled over to a space that yet another teacher, Richard Pateshall, used for private lessons in “the Rudiments of the Latin Tongue” along with English reading, spelling, and arithmetic. While Pateshall was out, Vinal went to work teaching children, as shown in this 30 Apr 1764 Boston Post-Boy ad:

John Vinal,
Hereby gives Notice, that he continues to keep a private School, opposite William Vassall’s Esq; where Youth may be instructed in Reading, Writing and Arithmetic in the best Manner, from XI to XII o’Clock, A.M. and from V to VI o’Clock, P.M. Misses may also be taught Spelling. Those who send their Children, may depend upon their being faithfully instructed.

That ad appeared less than two weeks after Adams saw Vinal’s smallpox-ravaged face. A lesson the youth would never forget.

TOMORROW: Moving up.

“Who Cares About the Midnight Ride?” in Boston, 21 Oct.

On Tuesday, 21 October, the Paul Revere House and GBH Forum will host a panel discussion on the topic “Who Cares About the Midnight Ride?: Perspectives on an American Legend.”

The event description says:

What does Paul Revere’s Midnight Ride mean today, and who does it matter to? In this panel, a university professor, a high school teacher, and a public history content creator will discuss how the Midnight Ride resonates (or doesn’t) with their audiences. They will compare perspectives on societal trends that influence whether a historical event like this feels relevant today.

The panelists will be:

• Ahsante Bean, creator of Bean Thinking, a YouTube channel exploring American politics through history, psychology, and ideology. She is a recent Us@250 Fellow with the New America Foundation.
• Eileen Ka-May Cheng, associate professor of history at Sarah Lawrence College and author of The Plain and Noble Garb of Truth: Nationalism and Impartiality in American Historical Writing, 1784-1860. 
• Kerry Dunne, now in her fifth year as the head of the History/Social Studies Department at Lexington High School and an adjunct instructor of education coursework at area universities.
• Noelle N. Trent (moderator), a public historian has worked with the National Park Service and the Smithsonian Institution’s National Museum of African American History and Culture.

This discussion will start at 6:30 P.M. in the Commons on the 5th floor of Suffolk University’s Sargent Hall, 120 Tremont Street in Boston. It will also be streamed lived on the GBH Forum Network and recorded for later viewing.

Speaking of which, my own talk earlier in this series can be viewed on this page.

“Never made the least attempt to shake off the authority of Great-Britain”

Last month I profiled the Rev. Samuel Madden, the Irish minister who in 1733 was the first person to write fiction based on time travel—a book he suppressed immediately after printing.

Madden wasn’t the only eighteenth-century author to imagine a future George VI, however.

In 1763 the London printer William Nicoll published The Reign of George VI, its author anonymous. It’s scanned here.

This book discusses the years 1900–1925. It praises the future fictional George VI (not the real one who took the throne in 1936) based on ideas in The Patriot King (1749) by Viscount Bolingbroke and thoughts of where the British Empire might go after victory over the French.

The Reign of George VI says interesting things about the British territories across the Atlantic Ocean:

But the immense region of country which the English possessed in North America, was what most extended and forwarded the British manufactures; the King was there Sovereign of a tract of much greater extent than all Europe:

the constitution of the several divisions of that vast monarchy, was admirably designed to keep the whole in continual dependance on the mother country: there were eleven millions of souls in the British American dominions in the year 1920: they were in possession of, perhaps the finest country in the world, and yet had never made the least attempt to shake off the authority of Great-Britain:

indeed, the multiplicity of governments which prevailed over the whole country —— the various constitutions of them, rendered the execution of such a scheme absolutely impossible.

This wide extended region which increased its people so surprisingly fast, was far from being forgot by the King; many noble harbours were surrounded with towns, and made naval magazines; a prodigious number of ships were built by order, from Great-Britain; and the royal navy itself boasted many very fine ships that were built in America.

On the one hand, the author contemplated the chance that American colonists would “shake off the authority of Great-Britain.” On the other, he or she quickly dismissed the possibility that the American colonies could unite to do that or feel “forgot by the King”—a lesson for George III.

In 1899 the Oxford military historian Charles Oman edited and published a second edition of The Reign of George VI, and that in turn was reprinted in 1972. However, Oman’s text included “omissions, rearrangements of sentence order, repunctuation, and other silent variations from the original,” Fred Anderson wrote in his essay about the 1763 Treaty of Paris in The Making of Peace.

The original text of The Reign of George VI has since been printed in the first volume of British Future Fiction, 1700-1914. It occasionally gets mixed up with Madden’s earlier book, or he gets credited for this one.

In Invasions: Fears and Fantasies of Imagined Wars in Britain, 1871–1918, Christian K. Melby suggested that Oman’s republication of The Reign of George VI fed the craze for invasion literature that swept Britain in the early twentieth century. However, since that trend was already under way when the book resurfaced, the influence may have gone the other way—the Oxford scholar tripping across an old title that seemed to fit surprisingly well with modern concerns.

From Hugh Smithson to the Duke of Northumberland

In 1742 a baby was born in England and baptized with the name Hugh Smithson.

His father was Sir Hugh Smithson, baronet (1714–1786), which made the little boy heir to that hereditary knighthood. Sir Hugh had served in House of Commons and filled several royal offices before inheriting that title from his grandfather.

The baby’s mother had been born in 1716 as Elizabeth Seymour, only daughter of Lord Algernon Seymour, son and heir of the Duke of Somerset. Lord Algernon also served in Parliament and as an army officer and colonial governor. In 1722 a clerical error had made him Baron Percy, granting him a title from his mother.

In October 1749 the Crown made Sir Hugh Smithson the first Baron Warkworth. The family barely had time to adjust to that before more significant changes happened. First, in January 1750, young Hugh got a baby brother named Algernon, after their maternal grandfather.

In February, that grandfather died. He had recently acquired more noble titles—Duke of Somerset, Earl of Hertford, Earl of Northumberland, Earl of Egremont, Baron Cockermouth (really), and so on. However, he had no direct male heirs. Therefore, by special arrangements his titles were doled out to his nephews, cousin, and son-in-law.

Baron Warkworth became Earl of Northumberland. In exchange, he petitioned Parliament to change his family’s surname to Percy; that law was passed in April.

Seven-year-old Hugh Smithson thus became Hugh Percy, but because he was now the oldest son of an earl, as a courtesy he was addressed by his father’s lesser title as Lord Warkworth.

Under that title, Hugh joined the British army. Within a year, still aged only seventeen, he was captain of a company. He saw action at the battles of Bergen and Minden. After a short time at Cambridge University, in 1763 Lord Warkworth was elected to the House of Commons as a member for Westminster. The next year, he married a daughter of the Earl of Bute, the former prime minister. By then he was a colonel.

In 1766 the colonel’s father, the Earl of Northumberland, was granted higher titles: Duke of Northumberland and Earl Percy. The latter rank became the courtesy title for his son Hugh.

That’s why the army colonel who served as Gen. Thomas Gage’s second-in-command at the start of the Revolutionary War was referred to as Hugh, Earl Percy. When his mother died in 1776, he inherited the barony of Percy in his own right, but fortunately that didn’t require people to call him by a new name.

In 1786 Lord Percy’s father died, and he became the second Duke of Northumberland. By special arrangement, his younger brother Algernon (then sitting in the House of Commons) inherited a new title, Baron Lovaine; four years later he was made the Earl of Beverley. (They also had an illegitimate half-brother named Jacques-Louis Macie and then James Smithson, who endowed the Smithsonian Institution.)