“To hear the proclamation for independance read and proclamed”

On 18 July 1776, 250 years ago today, the Declaration of Independence was officially proclaimed in Massachusetts.

People had already heard about the Continental Congress’s vote, and many had probably read the Declaration in newspapers. But this was a governmental ceremony. It happened in two places, and on two levels.

With no governor, the highest executive authority in Massachusetts was the Council. Most of its members were meeting in the Edmund Fowle house in Watertown.

Therefore, one part of the official reading was performed by Council secretary Perez Morton, reading the Declaration to the Council and to a crowd gathered outside. Also present were delegates from the Mi’kmaq and St. John’s/Maliseet communities, ready to sign a treaty of friendship with this new United States.

In Boston, there was a parallel, larger ceremony. Inside the Council’s chamber in what was now the State House, Suffolk County sheriff William Greenleaf read the Declaration to some Council members and other officials.

Col. Thomas Crafts of the Massachusetts artillery regiment, who had a bellowing voice, then “deaconed” or repeated the text phrase by phrase from the balcony of the Council chamber to the crowd gathered on the street below.

Thus, most Bostonians at the event heard Col. Crafts’s reading, but the official proclamation in Boston came from Sheriff Greenleaf. The ceremony was meant for both government officials and the “people out of doors.”

On 21 July, Abigail Adams reported to her husband:

Last Thursday after hearing a very Good Sermon I went with the Multitude into Kings Street to hear the proclamation for independance read and proclamed. Some Field peices with the Train were brought there, the troops appeard under Arms and all the inhabitants assembled there (the small pox prevented many thousand from the Country).

When Col. Crafts read from the Belcona of the State House the Proclamation, great attention was given to every word. As soon as he ended, the cry from the Belcona, was God Save our American States and then 3 cheers which rended the air, the Bells rang, the privateers fired, the forts and Batteries, the cannon were discharged, the platoons followed and every face appeard joyfull.

Mr. [James] Bowdoin [a senior member of the Council] then gave a Sentiment, Stability and perpetuity to American independance.

After dinner the kings arms were taken down from the State House and every vestage of him from every place in which it appeard and burnt in King Street. Thus ends royall Authority in this State, and all the people shall say Amen.

Not everyone was entirely pleased. Merchant John Rowe characterized the celebration as “a Great Confusion in Town.”

Pulling the royal emblems of the lion and unicorn down from the State House roof was probably inspired by reports of New Yorkers toppling the statue of King George III after that city’s reading of the Declaration on 9 July. But the street was still called King Street until 1784.

Chelsea Creek and Fighting in the Indian Way

Earlier this spring the Army Historical Foundation shared Alexander Cain’s detailed article “‘The Firing Begun on Boath Sides’: The Battle of Chelsea Creek, 27-28 May 1775.”

Cain’s introduction says:

Positioned between the significant events at Lexington and Concord (19 April) and the Battle of Bunker Hill, the Battle of Chelsea Creek (27-28 May) is frequently overshadowed by these more renowned engagements. Nevertheless, Chelsea Creek should not be regarded merely as a preliminary skirmish to Bunker Hill. The events of 27-28 May are equally essential to understanding the Siege of Boston as those at Lexington and Concord and at Bunker Hill. Therefore, the Battle of Chelsea Creek warrants comparable scholarly attention.

The Battle of Chelsea Creek holds considerable significance within the broader context of the American Revolution. This engagement is notable for several key milestones, including the first planned offensive by Provincial land forces, which resulted in direct combat. It also marked the initial collaboration between military units from different colonies and the first use of artillery by American forces in support of the Revolutionary cause. Most importantly, Chelsea Creek signaled the emergence of the American Army and the adoption of a supply interdiction strategy that benefited the Provincials in subsequent campaigns.

The Battle of Chelsea Creek also led to the first time Native Americans fought for the American forces in the “Indian” way, as opposed to individual Native men serving within militia companies modeled on the British regulars.

That started on 29 May, the day after the battle. Chaplain David Avery recorded in his diary:

About noon Capt. [Jehoiakim] Yoking, a Stockbridge Indian & I reconnoitered the Ground East of the schooner & judged that the taking off the cattle was practicable. The Capt. with 3 men took a canoe & went about a mile & a quarter upon the north side of the river from the Ferry & went across to Noddle’s Island & reconnoitered & scouted round about an hour & a quarter, when he fixed his centuries & another canoe went over to his assistance & soon took 2 horses & mired a 3d when a cannon ball fell pretty near them & four barges landed upon which all the scout retreated to the main shore & came over.

Upon that I advised that they should go back & get the stock. Accordingly they got off the Stock about sunset.

On 3 July the Massachusetts committee of safety considered a request from a man who had evidently been on that raid:

Henries Vomhavi, an Indian, having represented to this committee, that he had taken two horses at Noddle’s island, one a little horse, which he is desirous of retaining as some recompense for his fatigue and risk in that action, in which, it is said he behaved with great bravery; it is the opinion of this committee, that said Indian should be gratified in his request, which will be an encouragement to others in the service, provided, the honorable Congress should approve thereof.

The Massachusetts Provincial Congress did resolve that Vomhavi should receive “a small Horse…for his own use.”

That small operation to seize livestock from Noddle’s Island thus appears to have been conceived and carried out by the Stockbridge Indian company. That was an official part of the Massachusetts force, but people viewed those fighters as living and fighting in their own way. The horse for Vomhavi, who’s otherwise unknown, shows the rebel government saw value in compensating those men differently as well. 

“I know that our way will bring us there”

Yesterday’s posting mentioned the Rev. Samuel Ashbow, a Baptist minister from the Mohegan community in Connecticut.

A lot of information about Ashbow comes from Samson Occom and the Christian Indians of New England by W. DeLoss Love (1899). Both Ashbow and Occom studied with the Rev. Eleazer Wheelock and worked on his conversion missions before breaking with him theologically and organizationally.

The Rev. David McClure (1748–1820, shown here) also left a glimpse of Ashbow in his diary. This passage comes from the summer of 1768 when McClure was an undergraduate at Yale College. He “took a ride to the Sea Shore & in company with Mr. Chester Bingham tarried a few days at Narraganset,” the Native community in what’s now Charlestown, Rhode Island.

Sabbath, attended the Indian meeting, at their meeting house, which was small & about the size of a common school house. About 50 Indians were present. They were mostly elderly people. They sung, prayed & exhorted. There were 4 or 5 who exhorted. The principal speaker was called Sam’l Ashpo.

They were all very earnest in voice & gesture, so much so that some of them foamed at the mouth & seemed transported with a kind of enthusiasm. When they prayed, all spake audibly, some in english & some in Indian. It was indeed a confused noise. . . .

I stood near to Ashpo, and noticed the following expressions in his prayer er in confession of sins. We must allow for grossness of the style, from his imperfect knowledge. “Lord, thou knowest what a poor vile sinner I have been; how I have been a vile drunkard, and like a beast have lain drunk in my own spue, all night at taverns and on the road; but O Lord, thou has forgiven me my sins, for the sake of our blessed Saviour Jesus Christ, who can save the vilest sinner” &c.— . . .

As a sample of their ready wit even in serious things, among other instances, after meeting passing the house of one of the speakers, standing in his door, He said to me, “How do you like our way of worship?[”] I replied some things are very good; but would it not be more edifying, in prayer for one to pray & the congregation to join?—He replied “that will never do. Must make ’em all pray. Plaguy apt to cheat.”

When in the Meeting, one of the Exhorters addressed me & my companion, & said “this is the way that we Indians have to get to Heaven. You white people have another way. I don't know but your way will bring you there, but I know that our way will bring us there.”

Though McClure was contemptuous about the worshippers’ “simple and vulgar” way of expressing their understanding, I thought the metaphors he recorded them using were actually quite evocative.

One of the exhorters said, “I have been up the North ward in the french war, and when cold weather come on orders come—Go into winter quarters. This was dreadful news, to stay there all winter in cold & hunger; but soon word come again, strike your tents & home boys home. Then was all glad, and so it is with a christian going to Heaven.”

Another said, “I have been to New Port & down the wharf, & seen a ship just going to sea. There friends shake hands, and cry farewell, soon the sails are up & the wind comes & she goes, & all hands huzza, (hurraw) so it is with a christian going to Heaven.”

Three or four of Ashbow’s sons died fighting for the Continental cause, starting with Samuel, Jr., at Bunker Hill. He remained in Connecticut after the war while many other Christian Natives in the northeast, including Occom, were pushed to the Brotherton community in upstate New York and then on to Wisconsin. 

Up and Down the River Screening and Discussion in Charlestown, 11 June

On Thursday, 11 June, the National Parks of Boston and Bunker Hill Community College will host a screening and discussion of the new short film Up and Down the River, dramatizing the choices of Mohegan people during the American Revolution.

This movie was directed by Madeline Sayet and co-written by her and her mother, Melissa Tantaquidgeon Zobel, vice chair of the Mohegan Council of Elders. It stars several Native actors from the Mohegan and other communities.

The film description says:

Spanning the colonial and American Revolutionary eras, Up and Down the River delves into the difficult decisions made by members of the Mohegan Tribe at these pivotal periods in both tribal and U.S. history. Featured in this film is the Ashbow family, including Hannah and her son Samuel Ashbow, Jr. Choosing to fight alongside the American colonists, Samuel Ashbow, Jr., died at the Battle of Bunker Hill in 1775, becoming one of the first Indigenous soldiers to die in the American Revolution.

Ashbow’s father was the Rev. Samuel Ashbow (1718–1795) of New London, Connecticut.

After the film showing, there will be a reflective conversation between Zobel and endawnis Spears, Practitioner in Residence for Tribal Engagement at Brown University and Co-Founder and Director of Programming and Outreach at the Akomawt Educational Initiative.

This program will begin at 6 P.M., with doors open half an hour before. It’s scheduled to last ninety minutes. The showing and discussion are free to the public, but registration is required.

Archeological Investigation on Breed’s Hill This Month

For the next couple of weeks, the Boston City Archaeology Department will be conducting a dig on Breed’s Hill in Charlestown. The public can watch the investigation proceed while visiting the battle monument.

The program’s website explains:

There have been multiple archaeological surveys surrounding the Bunker Hill Monument, the site of the redoubt on Breed’s Hill and currently a National Park. These surveys have revealed the likelihood that the 1775 redoubt structure may still be identifiable under the current surface of the grassy hill.

Ground penetrating radar (GPR) and other non-invasive remote sensing techniques have been useful for finding earthworks, and a previous GPR survey on the monument hill in the 1990s had promising results suggesting an oval-shaped trench present on the hill.

Technology has significantly improved since this original survey and the City Archaeology Program is actively working with the National Park Service and other partners on a plan to re-survey the top of the hill to provide an even better underground snapshot of the location and condition of the 1775 redoubt.

A goal of the project is to accurately document the presence and location of the 1775 redoubt, including the potential for an archaeological trench across the original redoubt to reveal a section of the surviving fortification as part of the 250th celebrations in the summer of 2025.

In addition to the redoubt, the team is also actively working to use remote sensing techniques to identify areas of potential burials for the more than 300 individuals who lost their lives during the battle, including both colonial and British forces. The colonial forces included people of color and Native individuals from multiple Native nations. No burials will be disturbed as part of this work, but radar and documentary surveys may help to better protect these locations.

The department is working working with the National Park Service and American Veterans Archaeological Recovery with support from the Friends of Boston Archaeology.

The department shares lots of information from previous archival and geographical investigations of Revolutionary Charlestown on its webpage.

“Specimens of Indian Insult”

I’ve quoted a couple of accounts of mock battles on Boston Common during militia musters, as reported proudly in the local newspapers. On those occasions, half the local unit provided an enemy by portraying the French.

Here’s a report from the 12 May 1774 Norwich Packet, describing a different scenario in Woodstock, Connecticut, a town on the border with Massachusetts:

NORWICH, May, 12.

A Correspondent from Woodstock informs us, that on Monday the 2d. Inst. the Three Military Companies of that Town met upon the Parade, in the First Society, where they performed the Manual Exercise with a Spirit and Activity that did Honour to their Officers and themselves.

At Eleven o’Clock a Troop of Horse, under the Command of Capt. Samuel McClellan, came upon the Parade; which, for elegance of Dress, goodness of the Horses, and suitable Furniture, were judged, by the numerous Spectators present, to be inferior to no Troop in America.

At Three o’Clock the Foot and Troop feigned a Skirmish with each other, which they conducted with Propriety and Order: Suddenly a Company of Aborigines appeared, who made Captives of some of the Children present, and gave other Specimens of Indian Insult to the Foot and Horse: Their Depredations roused the New-England Spirit in the Troop, who, with seem Fury, attacked and drove them yelling off the Field, to the great Joy of the Spectators.

The good Order that was observed, not only by the Troop and Foot Companies, but also by the Spectators, was remarkable.----No Injury was sustained by any One present. The Day and Evening Entertainments, were concluded with strict Sobriety and Decency.

The Captain of the Troop gave an elegant Dinner to his Company and a Number of Gentlemen, as also did Capt. [Benjamin?] Lyon, and the Colonel of the Regiment honoured the Day with his Presence.

I’ve found this event mentioned in a local history but not quoted in full. It offers an example of what Philip J. Deloria called “playing Indian” in American culture. This moment was a few months after the Boston Tea Party, a few months before the Patriot press began to share fearful speculations that the Crown government might recruit Natives and French Canadians to attack resistant colonies.

Ironically, the town of Woodstock contains the site of Wabaquasset, a Native American “praying town” from the mid-1600s. That community was split and depopulated by the King Philip’s War. Englishmen from Roxbury then settled the land. The town’s seal now depicts Native and English men standing on either side of a heraldic shield.

“The services of their father in repairing certain cannon”

Preserved Clap was born in Hadley, lived in the part of that town which became Amherst, and ultimately died at age eighty up the Connecticut River in Claremont, New Hampshire.

His headstone appears here courtesy of Find a Grave. His wife Eunice’s stone is nearby.

Clapp probably had earlier ties to that region. The Preserved Clap listed as serving in 1775 in a provincial company recruited largely from Bolton was said to come from Charlestown, New Hampshire, next to Claremont.

There’s also this curious anecdote related by Jaazaniah Crosby in his History of Charlestown in New Hampshire (1833):

On the 18th of June, 1756, while Lieut. Moses Willard was endeavoring to extinguish the fire, which had been kindled in his fence, he was attacked by the Indians, and killed behind the barn of the late Capt. John Willard, and near the academy. At the same time, his son Moses was wounded in the hip by a spear, which is said to have remained in the wound till after his retreat into the fort. It is further said that a Mr. Preserved Clap carried the same spear into the revolutionary war.

Preserved and Eunice Clap’s son Roswell was living in Claremont by 1790, per the first U.S. Census.

Dr. Clap’s children followed in his footsteps in at least one way: asking to be paid for his inventions during the Revolutionary War.

In 1837, the U.S. Senate took up “the petition of Roswell Clapp and Charlotte Reed, children and heirs of Preserved Clapp, praying compensation for the services of their father in repairing certain cannon belonging to the United States.” That referred to work sixty-one years before, just after the siege of Boston.

And the Clap family kept up that plea until 1841, thirty years after the doctor had died.

“To Vax or Not to Vax” walking tour in Boston, 17 May

On Sunday, 17 May, the Partnership of Historic Bostons is offering a walking tour titled “To Vax or Not to Vax: Smallpox in Early Boston.”
The organization says:

The subject of our newly revised walking tour is smallpox, one of the great killers of the 17th century. This European disease found fertile ground in the growing colonies in New England, with the most devastating effects suffered by Native Americans who had no immunity. Up to 90% of the Massachusett Tribe, whose land included Boston and Charlestown, perished, their villages lying empty and providing English colonists with unoccupied land for reasons that Puritans saw as providential.

English colonists had some immunity but, even so, successive generations suffered wave after wave of deadly smallpox outbreaks. . . .

During the tour, we will investigate how the colonists saw smallpox and tried to contain it, and how smallpox roiled their society in a number of ways. Had God handed the Shawmut peninsula over to them by clearing out the Native population, or was he punishing them with the same pestilence for not sufficiently following His word? Could smallpox be successfully treated by medical methods practiced since the time of the Romans, or would new, more radical methods (some employed by Africans, including Cotton Mather’s enslaved African Onesimus, and Turks) prove more effective?

This tour is led by Michael Prochilo. It will start outside of Park Street Station at 2:30 P.M. and is scheduled to last 90 ninety minutes. Because of construction projects, the route is not wheelchair-friendly. Participants are reminded to bring water [Sunday might bring our first 80°F. days this year] and wear comfortable shoes.

Online Lecture Series from Historic Deerfield

Here’s another series of online lectures exploring the Revolution during the Sestercentennial, this time from Historic Deerfield.

Sunday, 25 January, 2 P.M.
Mighty Microbes: The Deadly 1775 Massachusetts Dysentery Epidemic and the Other Diseases That Shaped the American Revolution
Woody Holton, Professor of History at the University of South Carolina, author of Liberty Is Sweet

Sunday, 22 February, 2 P.M.
Spain, Native Nations, and the American Revolution
Kathleen DuVal, Carl W. Ernst Distinguished Professor of History the University of North Carolina, author of Native Nations

Sunday, 29 March, 2 P.M.
Picturing the American Revolution
Paul Staiti, Professor of Fine Arts on the Alum Foundation at Mount Holyoke College, author of Of Arms and Artists

Historic Deerfield says this series will “explore the American Revolution not just as a political conflict, but as a broad and complex global event that profoundly shaped the lives of everyone in the colonies. The war’s impact extended far beyond political fervor, crucially affecting Native nations seeking autonomy, free and enslaved Black people across the continent, and every sphere of social, cultural, and economic life—from material culture and daily labor to political ideology.”

All three lectures will be free of charge and presented virtually via Zoom webinar. Register for the links through this page.

(The picture above shows the gravestones of young sisters Betty, Huldah, and Mehetebel Robinson, dead of dysentery in late 1775, courtesy of the Westford Museum.)

Finding White Thunder

Back in 2013 I quoted Charles Lee’s 18 June 1756 letter to his sister on being “adopted by the Mohocks into the Tribe of the bear under the name of Ounewaterika, which signifies boiling water.”

Through Facebook a commenter just asked me: ”Do you know what Mohawks?”

I thought there might be clues in something else Lee wrote: “My Wife is daughter to the famous White Thunder who is Belt of Wampum to the Senakas which is in fact their Lord Treasurer.”

That eventually led me to this entry in the Dictionary of Canadian Biography:

KAGHSWAGHTANIUNT (Coswentannea, Gaghswaghtaniunt, Kachshwuchdanionty, Tohaswuchdoniunty, Belt of Wampum, Old Belt, Le Collier Pendu, White Thunder), a Seneca Indian living on the upper Ohio River by 1750; d. c. 1762.

As Cadsedan-hiunt he was identified in 1750 as one of the “Chiefs of the Seneca Nations settled at Ohio”; as Kachshwuchdanionty, he appeared in 1753 as one of “the Chiefs now entrusted with the Conduct of Publick affairs among the Six Nations” on the Ohio; and in 1755 he was described as “Belt of Wampum or White Thunder [who] keeps the wampum.” His English and French designations apparently attempt to translate his Seneca name; compare Zeisberger’s form, gaschwechtonni, of the Onondaga word meaning to make a belt of wampum.

That certainly seems to be “the famous White Thunder who is Belt of Wampum to the Senekas.” So was Lee marrying (or forming a temporary relationship with) a Seneca woman while being adopted into the Mohawk nation? Or did he not care about such distinctions among the Six Nations?

Kaghswaghtaniunt was part of Lt. Col. George Washington’s 1754 expedition west, and then Gen. Edward Braddock’s bigger, more famous, and even less successful march. Lee could have first met him during the planning of the Braddock expedition.

According to the D.C.B., in 1756 Kaghswaghtaniunt and his Mingo community “moved from Pennsylvania to New York under the protection of Sir William Johnson.” In the same month that Lee wrote to his sister, “Johnson sent Kaghswaghtaniunt with a message to the Senecas, and advised him and his family to settle among them.”

If, therefore, Lee was with his new “Wife,” and she was with her father and other members of the family, they were in the vicinity of Fort Johnson, New York. And that would suggest that Lee met Mohawks in that area, possibly other people who had come to work with Sir William Johnson.

If, on the other hand, we can’t rely on Charles Lee’s statements about his wife, her father, or what nations he was interacting with, then it’s an even bigger mystery.

Call for Papers on “Finance and the American Revolution”

The Program in Early American Economy and Society at the Library Company of Philadelphia is planning a symposium on the topic “Finance and the American Revolution, 1763-1794,” to take place in Philadelphia on 24–25 September 2026.

Organizers are now inviting scholars to propose papers for that symposium, to be circulated to attendees and then discussed in panels. They say, “We are broadly interested in papers that speak to public and private finance, credit, trade, and exchange in political and social contexts.”

The call for papers continues:

We are interested in thinking capaciously about finance and the American Revolution. To give a sense of some, but by no means all, possible topics:

• British fiscal policy in the coming of and prosecution of the war
• US diplomatic efforts on behalf of trade, credit, and financial assistance
• Free trade, free ports, smuggling, privateering, and the role of merchants
• Monetary policies and institutions, including currency, credit, banks, and insurance
• Trade, gift-giving, and plunder relating to Native nations
• Dispossession, speculation, and landownership
• Taxation and populist resistance
• Inflation, scarcity and price-fixing, price-gouging
• Slavery, the slave trade, and their relationships with finance
• Women and finance on the homefront and after the war
• Loyalists, property seizures, and post-war claims

To propose a paper, researchers should submit a 300-word abstract and a two-page CV to peaes@librarycompany.org with the subject line “Finance and the American Revolution Workshop” by 25 October 2025. The papers should be about 25 pages long, and drafts will be due in August 2026. Eventually the University of Pennsylvania Press will publish a volume of articles developed from this event.

Colonel Louis, Caesar Marion, and More

Here are a couple of new online resources exploring aspects of the first months of the Revolutionary War in New England.

The Longfellow House–Washington’s Headquarters National Historic Site has posted Dr. Benjamin Pokross’s article “General Washington in the Native Northeast.” It begins:

It had been ten days since the Caughnawaga Mohawk men had arrived at the camp in Cambridge with their wives and families, and George Washington was still not sure what he was going to do. This was the second time that one of their leaders, Atiatoharongwen (also known as Col. Louis Cook), had come to Cambridge, and he had again made it known that he could raise four or five hundred men to fight for the colonists if he was given a commission in the Continental Army. But Washington was unsure how he would pay for all these additional soldiers if Atiatoharongwen did what he said, and even more apprehensive about the idea of engaging Indigenous allies at all. At least it had stopped snowing on the clear, cold, morning of January 31, 1776; this was the day Washington had promised to meet the Mohawk delegation outside.

Washington’s “Out-Door’s Talk”, as he called the subsequent conversation in a letter to General Phillip Schuyler, would be the most extensive of several interactions with Indigenous people he had had while he lived in the Vassall House. These visits did not result in decisive alliances or enduring treaties. They matter, however, for two reasons. The first is that they emphasize how the Revolution—normally thought of as a conflict between American colonists and the British—occurred on Native land, in areas that had long been stewarded by Indigenous communities and where Native people continued to find ways to survive in spite of colonial upheaval. Secondly, these visits highlight the unsettled and transitional character of the very early days of the Revolution. For both Washington and the Native diplomats who came to visit him, this was a moment of experimentation, of exploring what a possible relationship between the Continental Army and Indigenous Nations could look like.

At the HUB History podcast, Jake Sconyers shared an episode on “The Well Known Caesar Marion.”

In this somewhat brief episode, we’re going to look at why Mr. Marion was thrown into Boston’s notorious jail 250 years ago this week, and then we’ll compare his treatment inside British-occupied Boston with the experience of Black volunteers in the Continental Army outside Boston, once Virginia enslaver George Washington took command.

Both Pokross and Sconyers explore moments when Washington was pushed out of his comfort zone by encounters with men of color. And in both cases, while he never stopped being a planter with aristocratic ambitions, Washington was able to shift his habits and show respect for allies.

(Hearing the podcast also reminded me that I broke off a short series about Marion, promising more was “COMING UP,” nine years ago. I won’t get back to that story this week, but it’s back on my to-do list.)

“We march’d into the camp & told the army what we had done”

I’ve been quoting Capt. Nathaniel Folsom’s account of his New Hampshire troops’ fight against a French and Indian force south of Lake George in the late afternoon of 8 Aug 1755.

He continued with lively detail:

After being closely engaged for about three quarters of an hour, they kill’d two of our men & wounded several more on our left wing, where they had gain’d a great advantage of us.

Which, with our being very much tired and fatigued, ocсаsioned us to retreat a little way back; but finding by our retreat we were likely to give the enemy a greater advantage we rallied again in order to recover the ground we had lost, and thinking that if we quitted the ground we should loose our greatest advantage, about fifteen or twenty of us ran up the hill at all hazard. Which we had no sooner done but the enemy fired upon us vigorously; & then, seeing us coming upon them (we being charg’d & they discharg’d) they run & gave us the ground.

Whereupon we all shouted with one voice and were not a little encouraged. In this skirmish Ensign Jonathan Folsom [the writer’s brother] was shot through the shoulder & several others wounded. At every second or third discharge during the engagement we made huzzas as loud as we could but not to be compar’d to the yells of our enemies, which seem’d to be rather the yellings of devils than of men.

A little before sunsetting I was told that a party of the Yorkers were going to leave us, which surpris’d me. I look’d & saw them in the waggon road with packs on their backs. I went to them & asked where they were going. They said to Fort Edward. I told them they would sacrifice their own lives & ours too. They answer’d they would not stay there to be kill’d by the damn’d Indians after dark but would go off by daylight.

Capt. [John] Moore and Lieut. [Nathaniel] Abbott & myself try’d to perswade them to tarry, but to no purpose till I told them that the minit they attempted to march from us I would order our New Hampe. men to discharge upon them. Soon after which they throw’d off their packs & we went to our posts again.

Upon my return to my tree, where I had fought before, I found a neat’s tongue (as I tho’t) and a French loaf, which, happening in so good a season, I gave myself time to eat of; & seeing my lieut. at a little distance, much tired & beat out, I told him if he would venture to come to me, I would give him something to comfort him. He came to me & told me I was eating a horse’s tongue. I told him it was so good I tho’t he had never eat anything better in his life.

I presently saw some Yorkers handing about a cagg of brandy, which I took part of & distributed amongst the men. Which reviv’d us all to that degree that I imagin’d we fought better than ever we did before.

Between sunsett and the shutting in of daylight we call’d to our enemies: told them we had a thousand come to our assistance; that we should now have them imediately in our hands; and thereupon made a great shouting & beat our drums. Upon which they drew off upon the left wing, but stood it on the front & right wing till daylight was in & then retreated & run off.

Then we begun to get things ready to march to the lake, when Providence sent us three waggon horses upon which we carry’d in six wounded men; made a bier & carried one on, lead some & carry’d some on our backs. We found six of our men kill’d & mortally wounded so that they dyed in a few days, and fourteen others wounded & shot through their cloaths, hatts, &c. With much difficulty we persuaded the Yorkers to go with us to the lake.

In about an hour after the battle was over we march’d & sent two men forward to discover who were inhabitants at the lake. Who met us and told us all was well. Whereupon we march’d into the camp & told the army what we had done. As soon as they understood by us that we had drove the enemy off & made a clear passage for the English between forts, the whole army shouted for joy, like the shouting of a great host.

That was the third part of the Battle of Lake George. The French forces had won the first stage with their ambush of the British column heading south to Fort Lyman (Edward). But pressing that attack brought out the larger British force camped at Lake George, and the Crown won the second stage. Then Capt. Folsom, Capt. William Maginnis of New York, and other provincials came up behind the French fighters who had fallen back and started this third and smallest stage.

TOMORROW: Who won?

“Ye most vilolent Fire Perhaps yt Ever was heard of in this Country”

Yesterday we left Capt. Nathaniel Folsom of New Hampshire and Capt. William Maginnis of New York leading their provincial companies north from Fort Lyman (soon renamed Fort Edward) on the afternoon of 8 Sept 1755. They were headed to Gen. William Johnson’s camp at Lake George, a distance of at least fifteen miles.

That morning, French forces had successfully ambushed a British column that had tried to come the other way. The column’s commanders were killed, leaving Lt. Col. Nathan Whiting of Connecticut and Lt. Col. Seth Pomeroy of Massachusetts in charge.

Pomeroy’s diary, published by the Society of Colonial Wars in New York in 1926, offers a vivid description of what happened:

we this Morning Sent out about 1200 men near 200 of them our Indians went Down ye Rhode toward ye Carrying pla[ce] got about 3 miles they ware ambush’d & Fir’d upon By ye Franch and Indians a number of ours yt war Forward Return’d ye Fre & fought bravely but many of our men toward hind Part Fled

ye others being over match’t ware oblig’d to fight upon a Retreet & a very hansom retreet they made by Continuing there fire & then retreeting a little & then rise and give them a brisk Fire So Continued till they Came within about 3/4 of a mile of our Camp

there was ye Last Fire our men gave our Enenies which kill’d grate numbers of them Sean to Drop as Pigons yt put ye Ennemy to a Little Stop

they very Soon Drove on with udanted Corage Doun to our Camp

ye Regulars Came rank & File about 6 abrest So reach’d near 20 rods In Length Close order the Canadans & Indians Took ye Left wing Hilter Scilter down along Toward the Camp

they had ye advantage of the ground Passing over a hollow & rising a note within gun Shot then took Trees & Logs & Places to hide them Selves-we made ye best Shift we Could for battrys to get behind but had but a few minuts to do It in

Soon they all Came within Shot ye regulars rank & file they Came towards yt Part of ye Camp whare we had Drew 3 or 4 Field Peaces ye others towards the west Part of ye Camp there I Placed my Self Part of Coll. [Timothy] Ruggles & of our Rigement a long togater

the Fire begun between 11 & 12 of ye Clock and Continued till near 5 afternoon ye most vilolent Fire Perhaps yt Ever was heard of in this Country In any Battle then we beat ’em of ye ground

we Took ye French General wounded

That general was Jean-Ardman, Baron Dieskau. He’d been shot four times and declared that the last wound was mortal. But in fact he survived as a prisoner of war in Britain until 1763 and then at home another four years.

Meanwhile, Folsom and Maginnis were moving north. According to Folsom’s March 1756 letter to the Rev. Samuel Langdon, published by the Massachusetts Historical Society in 1904, Capt. Maginnis neglected to send out “advance guards” to prevent an ambush and moved too slow besides.

(Maginnis might have countered that for all of Folsom’s claim that he and his officers were hungry to enter the fight, they’d managed to beat the Yorkers back to Fort Lyman and then lagged them in returning to face the enemy.)

Toward the late afternoon:

Captain McGennes and company started nine Indians, who run up the wagon road from us, upon which Captain McGennes stopt. I, seeing them halt (being on a plain) ordered our men to move forward and pass by them. As soon as I came up with McGennes, I asked the reason of his stopping, which he told me was the starting of the Indians.

I then moved forward and we ran about 80 rods and discovered a Frenchman running from us on the left. Some of us chased him about a gunshot, fired at him, but, fearing ambushments, we turned into the wagon road again and traveled a few rods, when we discovered a number of French and Indians about two or three gunshots from us.

Then we made a loud huzza and followed them up a rising ground and then met a large body of French and Indians, on whom we discharged our guns briskly, till we had exchanged shots about four or five times.

When I was called upon to bring up the Yorkers, who I thought had been up with us before but finding them two or three gunshots back, I ordered them up to our assistance. And though but a small number of them came up, we still continued the engagement and soon caught a French lieutenant and an Indian, who informed us that we had engaged upward of 800.

Folsom said his force consisted of “but 143 men”—leaving out the 90 Yorkers, of course.

TOMORROW: Endgame.

“We should go to the assistance of our friends at the lake”

Nathaniel Folsom (1726-1790) came from an old and prominent New Hampshire family. He was a merchant and owner of a sawmill and shipyard.

Early in the French and Indian War, Folsom became a captain in the New Hampshire provincial regiment. His company was stationed at Fort Lyman, soon to be renamed Fort Edward, on the Hudson River.

On the morning of 8 Sept 1755, having heard shots in the night, Col. Joseph Blanchard told Folsom to send out a scouting party. Folsom dispatched Lt. Jeremiah Gilman, a relative, with some troops. According to a letter the captain wrote in March 1756, those men “marched up between Hudson’s River & the waggon road that leads to Lake George about two miles and a half, where they discovered one [Jacob] Adams lying by the waggon road, dead & scalp’d, & several waggons almost burnt up.”

After hearing this news, Col. Blanchard sent out Capt. Folsom with fifty men. They found signs of a large force of Natives and French in the area. Furthermore, “while we were tying up the dead man to carry him into the fort we heard the discharge of a great gun at the lake & soon after the continual report of others.”

This was the start of the Battle of Lake George, specifically the attack by that French force later called the “Bloody Morning Scout.” Gen. William Johnson had sent troops and supplies from his camp at the lake south toward Fort Lyman with a warning about the enemy being in the area, but that enemy had set up an ambush. The Crown commanders, Col. Ephraim Williams of Stockbridge and Mohawk leader Hendrick Theyanoguin, were both killed. Their remaining men withdrew toward their camp, with the French forces in pursuit.

As William R. Griffith recreated events in The Battle of Lake George (2021), Capt. Folsom returned to Fort Lyman with news that a battle was under way to the north. Shortly after noon, Col. Blanchard sent him back out with a larger force of New Hampshire men, augmented by a company of New Yorkers under Capt. William Maginnis.

Folsom’s own account from 1756 presents himself and his men as acting more aggressively and independently than that:

I call’d together our officers to advise whether we should go to the assistance of our friends at the lake whom we suppos’d to be engaged in battle; upon which officers & souldiers unanimously manifested their willingness to go. At that instant I was told that there were more men coming, who were presently with us. They were a company of the York regiment, who, when detached at Fort Edward, were commanded by Capt. McGennes.

I told him our army was attack’d at the lake, that we had determined to go to their assistance & ask’d him to go with us. Upon which he answer’d that his orders were to come to that spot, make what discoveries he could, return & make report. I told him that was my orders, but that this being an extraordinary case I was not afraid of being blamed by our superr. officers for helping our friends in distress. Whereupon he turn’d & ordered his company to march back again.

I then told our officers that as our number was so small—but, as it were, a handfull—I tho’t it most adviseable to return to the fort and add to our number & then proceed to the lake. We march’d, soon overtook the Yorkers & ran by them a little distance, where we met near fifty of our own regiment running towards us.

I ask’d, “What tidings?” They said they tho’t we had been engag’d & that Coll. Blanchard had sent them to our assistance.

Whereupon we imediately concluded to go to the lake; but not having orders therefor, as before hinted, I despatch’d Lieut. [Richard] Emery with some few men with orders to go to the fort and to acquaint Coll. Blanchard with what we had discover’d and of our design to go to the lake.

Meanwhile Capt. McGennes marched forward. We followed for about two miles but as I tho’t they marched too slow & kept out no advance guard (by means of which we might be enclos’d in the ambushments of the Canadeans) I propos’d to our New Hampshire men to go by them. But one of our officers told me he tho’t it not best to go before the Yorkers for that he was more afraid of them than of the enemy.

We might presume that officer was afraid of being accidentally shot from behind, but clearly there was a rivalry between the two colonies’ forces.

TOMORROW: Engaging the enemy.

“Headquarters of a Revolution” in Cambridge, 5 July

On Saturday, 5 July, the Longfellow House–Washington’s Headquarters National Historic Site will host the Sestercentennial commemoration of Gen. George Washington taking command of the Continental Army.

Washington arrived in Cambridge on the afternoon of 2 July and assumed command from Gen. Artemas Ward. Nineteenth-century tradition held that 3 July was the crucial day, imagining the new commander reviewing all his troops on Cambridge common, but that was at best an exaggeration. The 4th is of course claimed by an event from 1776. So Saturday the 5th is the most convenient date for a celebration this year.

Here’s the “Headquarters of a Revolution” schedule. Unless stated otherwise, all of these events start at 105 Brattle Street, the Longfellow–Washington site. Some offerings overlap, so it’s not possible to see everything. The talks are about half an hour long, the house tours almost an hour, the walking tours more like ninety minutes. Folks who need air conditioning or shelter from rain will no doubt prefer the talks and house tours.

10:00 A.M. to 3:00 P.M.
The New Generalissimo
John Koopman and Quinton Castle

On the mansion’s lawn, visitors can meet and talk with living historians portraying Gen. George Washington (Koopman) and his body servant, William Lee (Castle), as they assess the siege, the Continental Army, the political situation, and living arrangements in Cambridge. Photo opportunities.

10:15 A.M. talk in the Longfellow Carriage House
Get Ready with Martha
Sandy Spector

Learn all about the clothing of 1775 as Mrs. Washington finishes dressing for her day. There will be some stories and some gossip, too! Spector is a Boston-based historian, researcher, and interpreter known for bringing emotional depth, humanity, and a sense of humor to her portrayal of Martha Washington.

10:30 A.M. walking tour
Children of the Revolution: Boys & Girls in Cambridge during the Siege of Boston
J. L. Bell

Meet at the mansion’s driveway for a walk around the Tory Row neighborhood and Harvard Square viewing sites and hearing stories of young people caught up in the opening of the Revolutionary War: Loyalists forced from their homes, soldiers in their teens or younger, war refugees, and enslaved children seizing their own liberty.

11:00 A.M. talk in the Longfellow Carriage House
The Revolutionary War Diary of Moses Sleeper
Kate Hanson Plass

An almost-anonymous journal in the Longfellow–Washington site’s collection provides a look at daily life in the Continental Army in Cambridge. Cpl. Moses Sleeper spent most of the Siege of Boston encamped and building barracks around Prospect Hill. Hanson Plass, the Longfellow House Archivist, explains how Sleeper’s perspective adds to our understanding of the experience of the soldiers under General Washington’s command.

11:30 A.M. house tour
Deep Dive: Headquarters of a Revolution
National Park Service staff

Explore Gen. George Washington’s first headquarters of the American Revolution. That mansion became a testing ground for many of the ideals, institutions, and questions that still define our nation. This conversational tour explores Cambridge Headquarters as a hub of revolutionary activity, where generals, enslaved people, paid laborers, poets, Indigenous diplomats, politicians, and soldiers shaped history—and how later generations would shape its memory.

12:30 P.M. talk in the Longfellow Carriage House
Washington in the Native Northeast
Dr. Ben Pokross

This talk describes George Washington’s interactions with Indigenous people while he lived in the Vassall House. After a look back on Washington’s experiences as a surveyor in the Ohio River Valley, the presentation will focus on his diplomatic encounters with Abenaki, Haudenosaunee, Passamaquody, and Maliseet peoples, among others, during the Siege of Boston. Ben Pokross was a Mellon Humanities Postdoctoral Fellow at the Longfellow–Washington site researching its Indigenous history. In the fall, he will be a Visiting Assistant Professor of English at Trinity College in Hartford.

1:15 P.M. talk in the Longfellow Carriage House
On Managing a Headquarters that is Also a Household
Sandy Spector

Martha Washington made her own arrival in Cambridge in December 1775 and stayed until April, setting the pattern she would follow throughout the Revolutionary War: she spent every winter with her husband and the army, and during campaign season usually remained as close as she safely could. Spector describes how the commander’s wife maintained a genteel household in the midst of war.

1:30 P.M. walking tour
Cambridge as a Seat of Civil War
J. L. Bell

Meet at the Washington Gate on Cambridge Common. This tour explores how the Cambridge community split on religious, political, and class lines between 1760 and 1775, culminating in a militia uprising in September 1774 and the outbreak of actual war in April 1775. Hear how the wealthy and congenial Tory Row neighborhood fell apart and became a stretch of military barracks and hospitals.

2:00 P.M. talk in the Longfellow Carriage House
Phillis and George: Thoughts on Letter-Writing, Power, and Self-Representation
Dr. Nicole Aljoe

One famous event during Washington’s time in Cambridge was his exchange of letters with Phillis Wheatley, the young poet who had been kidnapped into slavery. Aljoe, Professor of English and Africana Studies at Northeastern University, explores this encounter in context. She is co-Director of The Early Caribbean Digital Archive and Mapping Black London digital project, Director of the Early Black Boston Digital Almanac, and author of multiple books and articles. 

2:30 P.M. house tour
Deep Dive: Headquarters of a Revolution
National Park Service staff

See above.

2:45 P.M. talk in the Longfellow Carriage House
Cambridge’s Black Community, 1775
Dr. Caitlin DeAngelis Hopkins

The American Revolution was a time of both possibility and peril for Black residents of Cambridge. Enslaved people could pursue their liberty but faced the threats of family separation, deadly epidemics, and violence. Whether moving far away, taking jobs at Washington’s Headquarters, or making complex legal arguments to claim pieces of their enslavers’ estates, Black residents used their knowledge and networks to protect themselves and their families. Hopkins is working with the descendants of Cuba and Anthony Vassall to document the Black history of 105 Brattle. She holds a Ph.D. from Harvard and was formerly the head researcher for the Harvard and the Legacies of Slavery Project.

This commemoration is funded by Eastern National, a non-profit partner of the National Park Service. It’s supported by friendly organizations like History Cambridge and the Friends of Longfellow House–Washington’s Headquarters.

“The horses lately taken from Noddle’s Island”

The major fighting over Noddle’s Island, later elevated with the name of the Battle of Chelsea Creek, took place on 28 May 1775.

Provincial troops returned to the island on 30 May and 10 June to remove the remaining livestock and burn the structures still standing on Henry Howell Williams’s farm.

On 2 June, the Massachusetts Provincial Congress appointed a five-man committee to consider what to do with “the horses lately taken from Noddle’s Island.”

That committee decided to treat a significant number of those animals, if not all, as belonging “to our enemies” and thus as the spoils of war. Perhaps those horses really had been the property of the British military, left to graze on the island. But we know that Williams had raised horses on that island, and on 12 June he told the congress that provincial soldiers had taken more than eight horses from his farm.

Before that petition arrived, the congress had adopted its committee’s recommendation:

the same horses be delivered to the committee of supplies, to be by them used and improved for the benefit of the colony, as they shall think fit, until further order from this or some future congress, or house of representatives.

On 13 June, one horse was grazing outside Edmund Fowle’s house in Watertown, where Provincial Congress committees met. The congress assigned “the horse in Mr. Fowle’s pasture in this town, which was taken lately from Noddle’s island,” to James Sullivan. Along with two other delegates, he was about to head west to inspect Crown Point and Fort Ticonderoga, and he needed transportation.

On 3 July, the committee of safety resolved:

Henries Vomhavi, an Indian, having represented to this committee, that he had taken two horses at Noddle’s island, one a little horse, which he is desirous of retaining as some recompense for his fatigue and risk in that action, in which, it is said he behaved with great bravery; it is the opinion of this committee, that said Indian should be gratified in his request, which will be an encouragement to others in the service…

The next day the full congress heard the “recommendation of the committee of safety relative to an Indian’s having a horse.” Yet another committee endorsed the plan to give Vomhavi the small horse “to encourage his further brave conduct and good behaviour in camp,” and the congress agreed.

The Provincial Congress thus recognized how the Stockbridge company was a valuable part of its army, and how its men might have particular expectations in regard to warfare. While Sullivan was supposed the return the first horse, the second now belonged to Vomhavi.

TOMORROW: And for Henry Howell Williams?

Thomas Newell and “that Detestable Tea”

Thomas Newell’s diary makes clear that he opposed Parliament’s tea tax in 1773, as most Bostonians did. On 2 December, for instance, he wrote about James Bruce bringing in the Eleanor with “116 Chest of that Detestable Tea.”

But what did Newell do to support that stance?

On 17 November the young man made clear he didn’t participate in the attack on the Clarke family’s warehouse, discussed back here: “This evening a number of persons assembled before Richard Clarke’s, Esq., one of the consignees of tea; they broke the windows, and did other damage. (I was at fire meeting this evening.)”

On 2 December, the same day Capt. Bruce arrived, Newell’s diary contains one of the longer bits of cipher in the diary. The word “Junr” is legible among the little symbols, and a squiggle that doesn’t fit the cipher turns out to be “St.” What was Newell hiding?

Not a whole lot, it turns out. Once deciphered, the line reads: “This Eving. was at St. Andrew’s Lodge, I was chosen Junr Deacon of said Lodge.” Well, good for Thomas Newell.

Some people credit that lodge of Freemasons with being at the heart of the anti-tea operation. (None give it more credit than the lodge itself.) And indeed Newell got more involved the next night.

On 3 December, Newell recorded: “This evening I was one of the watch on board of Captain Bruce (with twenty-four more), that has tea for the Clarkes & Co.” That patrol was to keep the tea from being landed so the tax could be collected.

Finally, here’s Thomas Newell’s account of 16 December:

Town and country sons mustered according to adjournment. The people ordered Mr. [Francis] Rotch, owner of Captain [James] Hall’s ship, to make a demand for a clearance of Mr. [Joseph] Harrison, the collector of the custom house (and he was refused a clearance for his ship). The body desired Mr. Rotch to protest against the custom-house, and apply to the governor for his pass for the castle. He applied accordingly, and the governor refused to give him one. The people, finding all their efforts to preserve the East India Company’s tea, at night dissolved the meeting. But behold what followed the same evening: a number of brave men (some say Indians), in less than three hours emptied every chest of tea on board the three ships, commanded by Captains Hall, Bruce, and [Hezekiah] Coffin (amounting to 342 chests), into the sea.

Was Newell among those “brave men”? I’d guess not. But he surely knew some of them.

A couple of details struck me Newell’s writing about the Boston tea protesters. First, he consistently referred to the people meeting in Old South Meeting-House as ”sons of liberty.” He didn’t worry about calling them the “body of the people.”

Second, in Newell’s telling the crowd that afternoon was trying “to preserve the East India Company’s tea.” By having it shipped back to Britain, that is. Would be a shame if anything else happened to it.

TOMORROW: A mystery name.

“This distortion of history renders the past unrecognizable”

Earlier this month, the nation’s two main associations of historians issued this statement condemning federal censorship of the nation’s history:

The American Historical Association (A.H.A.) and the Organization of American Historians (O.A.H.) condemn recent efforts to censor historical content on federal government websites, at many public museums, and across a wide swath of government resources that include essential data. New policies that purge words, phrases, and content that some officials deem suspect on ideological grounds constitute a systemic campaign to distort, manipulate, and erase significant parts of the historical record. Recent directives insidiously prioritize narrow ideology over historical research, historical accuracy, and the actual experiences of Americans.

As the institution chartered by the U.S. Congress for “the promotion of historical studies” and “in the interest of American history, and of history in America,” the American Historical Association must speak out when the nation’s leadership wreaks havoc with that history. So, too, must the O.A.H., as the organization committed to promoting “excellence in the scholarship, teaching, and presentation of American history.” It is bad enough to forget the past; it is even worse to intentionally deny the public access to what we remember, have documented, and have expended public resources to disseminate.

At this writing, the full range of historical distortions and deletions is yet to be discerned. Federal entities and institutions subject to federal oversight and funding are hastily implementing revisions to their resources in an attempt to comply with the “Dear Colleague” letter issued by the Department of Education’s Office of Civil Rights and executive orders such as “Defending Women from Gender Ideology Extremism and Restoring Biological Truth to the Federal Government.” These changes range from scrubbing words and acronyms from websites to papering over interpretive panels in museums. Some alterations, such as those related to topics like the Tuskegee Airmen and the internment of Japanese Americans during World War II, have been hurriedly reversed in response to public outcry. Others remain. The scrubbing of words and acronyms from the Stonewall National Monument webpage, for instance, distorts the site’s history by denying the roles of transgender and queer people in movements for rights and liberation. This distortion of history renders the past unrecognizable to the people who lived it and useless to those who seek to learn from the past.

It remains unclear whether federal agencies are preserving the original versions of these materials for future reference or research. Articles written by historians for the National Park Service, for example, have been altered, and in some instances deleted, because they examine history with references to gender or sexuality. These revisions were made without the authors’ knowledge or consent, and without public acknowledgment that the original articles had been revised. The A.H.A.’s Statement on Standards of Professional Conduct is clear: “Honoring the historical record also means leaving a clear trail for subsequent historians to follow. Any changes to a primary source or published secondary work, whether digital or print, should be noted.”

Words matter. Precision matters. Context matters. Expertise matters. Democracy matters. We can neither deny what happened nor invent things that did not happen. Recent executive orders and other federal directives alter the public record in ways that are contrary to historical evidence. They result in deceitful narratives of the past that violate the professional standards of our discipline. When government entities, or scholars themselves, censor the use of particular words, they in effect censor historical evidence. Censorship and distortion erase people and institutions from history.

The A.H.A.’s Statement on Standards of Professional Conduct makes clear that historians can neither misrepresent their sources nor omit evidence because it “runs counter” to their interpretations. The O.A.H. and A.H.A. condemn the rejection of these professional standards. Classifying collective historical scholarship as “toxic indoctrination” or “discriminatory equity ideology” dismisses the knowledge generated by the deep research of generations of historians. It violates the training, expertise, and purposes of historians as well as their responsibility to public audiences.

Our professional ethics require that “all historians believe in honoring the integrity of the historical record.” We expect our nation’s leadership to adhere to this same basic standard and we will continue to monitor, protest, and place in the historical record any censorship of American historical facts.

Several other societies affirmed their support for this statement: the Association of University Presses, Education for All, Labor and Working-Class History Association, National Council for the Social Studies, North American Conference on British Studies, PEN America, and the Society for U.S. Intellectual History.

The examples of suppressed information in this statement are all about twentieth-century history, but White House demands haven’t spared Revolutionary parks. For example, at the beginning of this year one park’s webpage on non-white people working for American independence included this question: “Why don’t we hear more about this part of the American Revolution?” The answer was historic racism. We’ve known that since William Cooper Nell’s work in the 1850s. But the current administration doesn’t like that answer, so it’s gone.

Fortunately, the rest of that webpage remains, as do many related articles and profiles on the same site. The hard-working staff of the N.P.S. is still dedicated to telling our national story, including the hard parts, as fully and accurately as they can.

And on that topic, the Sestercentennial events at Minute Man National Historical Park include:

Saturday, 19 April, 3 P.M.
A Fight for Freedom: Patriots of Color Walking Tour
start at the North Bridge Lower Parking Lot on Monument Street

“He continues, with his usual Success, to carry on his Operations”

The Newport Mercury advertisement I quoted yesterday was just the start of a campaign extolling Dr. John Newman’s cancer cure.

On 3 May, another letter appeared in the newspaper addressed to printer Henry Barber and signed by “Your Constant Readers.” This listed ten more Rhode Islanders who had been cured in the last two months, eight from Newport plus one each from Bristol and North Kingston.

On 28 June, “A Friend to Mankind” reported:

Mr. Benjamin Blossom of Massachusetts State, was sorely afflicted with a Cancer, seated near the eye; which extended itself round both his eye-lids; its progress had been so rapid that the eye-lashes were eaten off, insomuch that in the opinion of good judges it was thought incurable.

However, he applied to the said Doctor, who by his method of cure, in ten days fully extracted the Cancer, without giving the least pain or inconvenience to the eye.

That might have been Benjamin Blossom (1722–1797) of Dartmouth or his son, Benjamin, Jr. (1753–1837), of Fairhaven.

The longest letter yet appeared on 6 September. It was signed “D.G.,” but the writer identified himself (or herself) as the writer of previous “observations on the conduct of Doctor JOHN NEWMAN” published in the paper.

This letter added three more people to the list of Newman’s patients: “Col. Ebenezer Sprout, of Middleborough, Massachusetts State”; “Mr. Elihu Robertson, of Elizabeth Islands, Massachusetts State”; and “Mrs. Parker, her place of residence I have forgot.”

According to the letter, the Middleborough man “had a Cancer, which had eaten out one of his eyes, two years before he applied for relief: entirely extracted and will soon be effectually cured.” This could be the militia colonel Ebenezer Sproat, who would die in 1786, or his namesake son (shown above), a former Continental Army officer who would help to lead the settlement of Marietta, Ohio, where he died in 1805. Reportedly the Shawnee called the younger man “Hetuck,” meaning “eye of the buck deer/buckeye,” but authors connect that to his height rather than the prominence of his eyes.

“D.G.” closed by saying: “I am not intimately acquainted with the Doctor, but as his reputation for humanity seems generally acknowledged, I must own I have a great partiality in his favour.” Frankly, I can’t help suspecting that Newman wrote all those letters himself.

Newman himself spoke out in yet another letter dated 22 November:

For the Benefit of the Public.

DOCTOR JOHN NEWMAN advertises his Removal from his former Place of Residence in the Ferry Wharf-Lane, to the House No. 113, in Louis-Street, at the Sign of the Pestle and Mortar: Where he continues, with his usual Success, to carry on his Operations in the Cure of the Cancer, and other Disorders incident to the human Body:

And in a more particular Manner, has discovered a new and safe Method for the Cure of the Venereal Disease, which he accomplishes in Six Days (provided the Patient adheres to his Advice) without the least Inconvenience—and takes this fresh Opportunity of acknowledging to the Public the many Favours received by their most obliged Servant.

I can’t help noting that only the first Newport Mercury letter about Dr. Newman, published the month after the legislature lowered his sentence for corresponding with the enemy, stated that he would offer his cure for free to anyone who couldn’t pay.

COMING UP: The cure from Fort Pitt.