J. L. BELL is a Massachusetts writer who specializes in (among other things) the start of the American Revolution in and around Boston. He is particularly interested in the experiences of children in 1765-75. He has published scholarly papers and popular articles for both children and adults. He was consultant for an episode of History Detectives, and contributed to a display at Minute Man National Historic Park.

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Showing posts with label Valentine Duckett. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Valentine Duckett. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 07, 2022

“A Letter, which was thrown into both the Camps”?

As I’ve peered at that September 1774 newspaper item allegedly alerting British soldiers to the troublemakers in Boston, I’ve been trying to figure out if it contains any internal clues about its source.

One detail is that the New-York Gazetteer said the letter was “thrown into both the Camps.” (In the Boston Evening-Post, where the printers were trying to save lines, that was changed to “thrown into the Camps.”)

What two army camps in Boston did the original publication refer to? In that period Bostonians usually spoke of there being only one camp:
  • “LOST in the Rear of the Camp on the Night of the 24th of July…,” said an advertisement in the 11 August Massachusetts Spy.
  • The Evening-Post’s 5 September report on the “Powder Alarm” said Benjamin Hallowell “ran on foot to the camp,” and then a local was “observing the motion in the camp.”
  • The same issue said the army had strengthened the guard on the Neck with “an additional number of Men from the Camp.”
  • That same day, the Boston Post-Boy reported the execution of Pvt. Valentine Duckett “in the rear of the Camp.”
  • On 6 October the Massachusetts Spy described picking up a document “under the great tree near the camp.”
Longer references make clear that “the Camp” was on the Common.

To be sure, other soldiers were camping elsewhere. According to the 11 August Boston News-Letter, the 52nd Regiment of Foot had just arrived from New York and “encamped on Fort-Hill.” But I found no newspaper references to a ‘camp on Fort Hill,’ nor any mention of ‘the camps’ in Boston aside from the article in question.

Therefore, whoever wrote this text appears to have had some knowledge of Boston in the late summer of 1774, specifically that different parts of the British army were camped at different places, but that person wasn’t speaking like a Bostonian.

TOMORROW: The missing name.

Friday, December 28, 2012

The Voices of British Soldiers

Folks might recognize Don Hagist’s name from the British Soldiers, American Revolution blog. He digs out details about the enlisted men who were part of the British government’s effort to hold onto those thirteen rebellious North American colonies. His research can turn some faceless redcoats into individual people.

Often that task involves paging through muster rolls, pension grants, court-martial records, and other British military documents now stored at the National Archives at Kew. Unfortunately, there’s no British equivalent to the American pension application system, which (in lieu of systematic record-keeping during the war) required veterans to provide detailed narratives of their service. That means most British soldiers are preserved as names on a few documents without a line connecting those dots.

A few redcoats left detailed personal narratives. One of Don’s earlier books was an edition of Sgt. Roger Lamb’s postwar writing that collected all his first-hand military experiences in one volume. Don’s new book, British Soldiers, American War: Voices of the American Revolution, reprints nine shorter narratives of service in the king’s army (as well as the samples of the work of two military poets, including John Hawthorn). The narratives include the information taken down by the pension office, a letter written during the war to a potential patron, a convict’s dying words, and several published memoirs.

In each case, Don has checked and filled out the soldier’s own account with contemporaneous documentation, where available. Thus, the book includes the autobiographical “Dying Speech” of Pvt. Valentine Duckett, executed for desertion on Boston Common in 1774, and the record of his court-martial. Another court-martial fills out the story of Pvt. Thomas Watson, who survived to settle in Bolton, Massachusetts.

In some chapters Don describes other British soldiers whose careers parallel the main subject. For example, chapter 9, “The Aspiring Soldier,” is about William Burke of the 45th Regiment, who deserted to the Americans for more social and economic opportunity. That chapter also mentions Pvt. Thomas Machin of the 23rd, who did the same in July 1775 and eventually became Capt. Thomas Machin of the Continental Artillery. (I also discuss Machin in the big Washington study.)

You’ve probably spotted a significant pattern in these narratives: most of the memoirists ended up becoming American. Of the nine men profiled in the book, only two retired from the British army in good standing. Six deserted to the Americans or, in the case of Ebenezer Fox of Roxbury, deserted back to the Americans. Their recollections got published because in America those men became honored relics of our War for Independence.

British society simply wasn’t that eager to read the experiences of enlisted men. That may have been due to how societies don’t like to be reminded of wars they lose. But I think it reflects the aristocratic values of Georgian Britain. We see the pattern already right after the Battle of Lexington and Concord. The Massachusetts authorities published broadsides naming all the local men killed and wounded, regardless of rank. Gen. Thomas Gage sent home reports listing the officers killed but not the enlisted men. (Granted, that would have been a much longer list.) American culture valued ordinary individuals more.

Given the social stratification in Britain, it’s no surprise that several of these redcoats saw more opportunity on the other side of the conflict. One chapter of British Soldiers, American War documents how the army encouraged soldiers to learn to read and write, valuable skills in any large organization. But even an educated enlisted man was very unlikely to rise above sergeant.

As memoirists and as defectors, most of the men who left behind recollections for British Soldiers, American War were atypical. But of course all memoirists are atypical (at least until this era of self-publishing). And these men offer a rare peek into the daily lives of British recruits. Alongside Don’s research on recruitment patterns, demographic data, &c., the book is a top-notch source on the king’s soldiers during the Revolutionary War, “ordinary” men caught up in historical change.

British Soldiers, American War is handsomely designed (though, reflecting what Georgian artists were commissioned to paint, the cover art shows British officers instead of enlisted men). The profiles include images of some of their documentary sources. Eric H. Schnitzer’s drawings and detailed captions discuss the soldiers’ likely garments, which should increase the value of the book for reenactors. Thorough notes and index round out a fine volume.