“The residence of his excellency General Washington”

The Massachusetts Provincial Congress’s records say that on 26 June 1775 the body voted

That the president’s house in Cambridge, excepting one room reserved by the president for his own use, be taken, cleared, prepared, and furnished, for the reception of General [George] Washington and General [Charles] Lee, and that a committee be chosen immediately to carry the same into execution.

Most of the time that congress used “the president” to refer to its presiding officer, who at that point was James Warren. However, Warren’s own house was in Plymouth, and he was staying somewhere in Watertown, so this must mean another “president’s house in Cambridge.”

The only president who lived in Cambridge was the Rev. Dr. Samuel Langdon of Harvard. And with the college closed, he didn’t need the whole building, right? That house still stands on the edge of Harvard Yard, and is officially called the Wadsworth House (shown above).

The generals arrived in Cambridge on 2 July. Four days later, the congress ordered its Committee of Safety “to desire General Washington to let them know if there is any house at Cambridge, that would be more agreeable to him and General Lee than that in which they now are.” That suggests its members had heard murmurs that the generals weren’t fully satisfied.

By the next day, it was clear that the two generals would be living separately, and on 8 July the Committee of Safety decided that “it is necessary the house of Mr. John Vassal, ordered by Congress for the residence of his excellency General Washington, should be immediately put in such condition as may make it convenient for that purpose.” It looks like he moved in a week later; at least his aide Thomas Mifflin paid the cleaning bill on 15 July.

John Vassall had left that mansion when he moved his family into army-occupied Boston in September 1774. In the 1790s Andrew Craigie, who back in 1775 had worked for the Provincial Congress as an apothecary, bought the house and expanded it. After his widow’s death it became the home of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and family, and it’s now Longfellow House–Washington’s Headquarters National Historic Site.

Thus, Prof. Cornelius Conway Felton was correct in telling Washington Irving that what he called “the Cragie House” was Gen. Washington’s headquarters and residence for most of the siege of Boston. But Irving had been correct when he originally wrote that the Provincial Congress had first put Washington and Lee up in the Harvard president’s house.

COMING UP: Where did Gen. Charles Lee live?

“Mr. Irving was led into a slight mistake”

In 1855, Washington Irving published the volume of his long biography of George Washington that brought the general to Cambridge on 2 July 1775. The beloved American author wrote:

In the mean time the provincial Congress of Massachusetts, then in session at Watertown, had made arrangements for the expected arrival of Washington. The students of Harvard College having returned home on the breaking out of hostilities, the house of the president of that institution, at Cambridge, had been fitted up as head-quarters for the commander-in-chief and a temporary residence of [Charles] Lee.

A Harvard professor of Greek literature named Cornelius Conway Felton (shown above) immediately wrote to Irving. Felton, who became president of the university in 1860, later described the exchange:

In the second volume there is an account of Washington’s residence at Cambridge, as Commander-in-chief of the American Army. Mr. Irving was led into a slight mistake in reference to the General’s head-quarters. The records state that the President’s house was assigned him for this purpose; meaning the President of the Provincial Congress of Massachusetts: but Mr. Irving understood it to be the President of the University, and so stated.

Feeling a great interest in the historical fame of the Cragie House,—the real head-quarters of the General, and at that time one of the most stately mansions in Massachusetts, having been built for a Tory family of great wealth,—I took the liberty of calling Mr. Irving’s attention to the error, and of stating to him the leading facts in the subsequent history of the house; its occupancy by Mr. [Andrew] Cragie, from whom it derives its present name; more recently by Mr. Everett, Mr. Sparks, Judge Phillips, Mr. Worcester, and now—and, I trust, for many years to come—by the poet Longfellow.

Mr. Irving immediately wrote me a most cordial letter, and, in a pleasant note to the next volume, made the correction.

The next edition of Irving’s biography changed the passage above to:

In the meantime the provincial Congress of Massachusetts, then in session at Watertown, had made arrangements for the expected arrival of Washington. According to a resolve of that body, “the president’s house in Cambridge, excepting one room reserved by the president for his own use, was to be taken, cleared, prepared, and furnished for the reception of the Commander-in-chief and General Lee.

There was no closed-quotation mark.

Irving also added a note:

We are obliged to Professor Felton, of Cambridge, for correcting an error in our first volume in regard to Washington’s bead-quarters, and for some particulars concerning a house, associated with the history and literature of our country.

The house assigned to Washington for head-quarters, was that of the president of the Provincial Congress, not of the University. It had been one of those tory mansions noticed by the Baroness Reidesel, in her mention of Cambridge. . . .

The note went on to discuss the history of the house through its current occupant, poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

The only problem: Irving’s original passage had been right all along.

TOMORROW: The generals move house.

Killed “by running after cannon-shot”

I’ve written in the past about American soldiers trying to chase down British cannonballs for a reward. While it’s clear they did that, I couldn’t find contemporaneous confirmation of John Trumbull’s statement in his memoir that soldiers in the siege of Boston hurt themselves trying to stop balls before they stopped rolling.

I recently found an example of some kind of casualties during that activity. On 7 Aug 1775, Gen. George Washington’s military secretary Joseph Reed wrote to his brother-in-law Charles Pettit:

The enemy having more ammunition to sport than we have, divert themselves every day with cannonading our lines, but with very little effect, except where the imprudence of some of our own people exposes them to danger. Two were killed at the lines last week, by running after cannon-shot.

Did those men get in the way of the balls? Or did they recklessly expose themselves to enemy musket fire, or bursting shells? Alas, they’re not around to tell us.

(Photograph above of the Royal Irish Artillery at an event in Exeter, New Hampshire, by Roger H. Goun via Flickr under a Creative Commons license.)

Handsome Pictures in a Disappointing Picture Book

Henry Knox: Bookseller, Soldier, Patriot, by Anita Silvey and Wendell Minor, is a picture-book biography published last year.

The back cover shows Henry Knox as he might have looked at age nine, starting his apprenticeship as a bookbinder. In that picture I can perceive the features that Gilbert Stuart painted forty-seven years later, and the cheery, winning personality Knox’s contemporaries described.

All of Minor’s paintings are handsome and evocative. But I can’t recommend the book because the text contains too many errors and exaggerations. Some of those mistakes appear in popular biographies of Knox, such as the notion that the heavy cannon from Fort Ticonderoga were “all the working artillery of the Continental Army.” But others I can’t find any support for.

Most important is the statement that contemporaries called the trek from Ticonderoga with those cannon “Knox’s Folly.” In fact, the idea of hauling guns from Lake Champlain to Cambridge had been around for months before Knox undertook it. Massachusetts’s original orders to Col. Benedict Arnold to take the fort also told him to bring back the cannon inside. Gen. George Washington’s council of war in October 1775 agreed that the army should transport guns from Crown Point. It doesn’t take much away from Henry Knox’s hard work to acknowledge that he wasn’t a lone rebel standing up to a crowd.

There are a lot of other misstatements, large and small. When Henry was nine, it was not “difficult for such a young boy to find full-time work”; hundreds of Boston boys were apprentices by that age. There were not “several thousand British troops” in Boston when Knox came of age in 1771; there were a few hundred stationed on Castle Island. The British military never “surrounded the city” and kept out food; that’s what the provincial military tried to do during the siege.

Gen. Washington arrived in Cambridge not on 14 June 1775, but 2 July. “Randall lineback oxen” are a modern breed; the term does not date from the eighteenth century. A list of “all the major battles of the war” should include Saratoga, Brandywine, Monmouth, Cowpens, and more, not just Washington’s famous triumphs of “Valley Forge, Trenton, Princeton, and Yorktown”—especially since Valley Forge was a winter encampment, not a battle. Gen. Howe was not knighted until after the siege of Boston, and Gen. Ward spelled his name “Artemas.”

I wish I’d had a chance to fact-check this book before it went to the printer. Its basic story of Henry Knox is solid. With a thorough vetting, the text could have matched the quality of the art.

(Review based on advance unbound copy supplied by the publisher.)

The Notorious Benedict Society

Among this year’s Boston Globe/Horn Book Award winners in children’s literature is The Notorious Benedict Arnold: A True Story of Adventure, Heroism, and Treachery, by Steve Sheinkin.

This is not a picture-book biography, but a 300-page book for readers in the upper elementary grades. It received starred reviews from Kirkus and School Library Journal, and praise here here from Abhi, age 11, of Gahanna, Ohio. The publisher offers an extract from the start of the book.

Sheinkin has also written a shorter, lighter book about a bigger topic: King George, What Was His Problem?: The Whole Hilarious Story of the Revolution.

Going Back to April 19, 1775

In April I mentioned that Sinclair Street Publishing had brought out an electronic edition of Douglas P. Sabin’s April 19, 1775: A Historiographical Study, originally written for the National Park Service, in the Kindle format. I wondered aloud whether Sabin’s follow-up report “The British Skull Controversy” was included.

Publisher Greg Williams recently contacted me with more good news:

I’ve updated the Kindle edition to include “The British Skull Controversy” as an appendix. If you’ve already purchased the Kindle edition, Amazon customer service should be able to update your copy at no charge (eventually, these updates are supposed to happen automatically, but I don't think Amazon has implemented that feature yet). Simply contact Amazon at 1-866-216-1072 (you may also be able to email them through their online contact form).

If you’re not a Kindle owner, the updated ebook is also available on Apple’s iBookstore and Barnes and Noble’s Nook store.

In addition, a print version is now available at CreateSpace.com, and at Amazon.com. Please note “The British Skull Controversy” is not included in the print version.

This is a fine example of how digital technology is changing the way books can be published, and publishers can operate. What would printer Benjamin Franklin and bookseller Henry Knox think?

Society for Military History Call for Papers

The Society for Military History has released its call for papers for its 79th Annual Meeting, to be hosted by the Army Historical Foundation in Arlington, Virginia, on 10-13 May 2012. The announcement says:

The conference theme is “The Politics of War,” highlighting the transition from war to peace, civil-military relations, the dynamics of coalition warfare and the problems of military government and occupation. We encourage a diverse group of participants and especially encourage junior scholars to present their work and to serve on panels. As always, the program committee will consider all panel and paper proposals dealing with important questions of military history.

Panel proposals must include a panel title, contact information for all panelists, a brief description of the purpose and theme of the panel, a one-paragraph abstract of each of the papers, a one-page curriculum vita of each panelist, including commentator and chair, and contact information.

Proposals for individual papers are welcome and should include a brief abstract, a one-page curriculum vita, and contact information. All presenters, chairs, and commentators must be SMH members at the time of the 2012 meeting.

Proposals must be submitted electronically to the conference coordinator, Mr. Matt Seelinger. Deadline for proposals is 1 November 2011.

The meeting site will be the Hyatt Regency Crystal City Hotel. I believe more information will appear on this webpage closer to the conference.

Independence Weekend Walking Tours in Boston

The Boston African American National Historical Site is offering two free walking tours focusing on the history and heritage of the American Revolution on the upcoming holiday weekend.

Black Bostonians of the Revolution
Saturday, 2 July, 11:00 A.M.
Come learn about Revolutionary War-era leaders such as Prince Hall and Colonel George Middleton and how they and other early African American activists in Boston laid the foundation for the Abolition Movement and the early struggles for equal rights. Tour begins at the Samuel Adams Statue in front of Faneuil Hall.

The Freedom “on Trial” Trail
Monday, 4 July, 11:00 A.M.
Join us for this great walking tour which focuses on the time when the promises of the American Revolution were “on trial” in Boston’s 19th-century African American community. The tour will take you to places where Boston’s developing black community struggled to realize the full promise of citizenship. Tour begins at the Samuel Adams Statue in front of Faneuil Hall.

Each tour, led by a National Park Service ranger, will take approximately ninety minutes. Check the historic site’s website for more tours on this weekend and throughout the summer.

Who Are You Wearing, General Washington?

On 25 June 1775, Gen. George Washington arrived in New York on his way from the Second Continental Congress to the newly adopted Continental Army in Massachusetts.

At least as far back as Douglas Southall Freeman’s multivolume biography published in the mid-1900s, good authors including Richard M. Ketchum, John Ferling, and Ron Chernow have stated that Washington dressed up to enter the city. Specifically, they say he wore a feathered hat and a purple sash.

However, those sartorial details go back to a single source: the reminiscences of Gen. Richard Montgomery’s widow Janet. She died in 1827, and her notes were first published in The Ladies’ Repository thirty years later. They say:

Washington’s stay was but a moment at New York. He drove a sulky with a pair of white horses; his dress was blue, with a purple ribbon sash, and a long plume of feathers in his hat. What a mortifying sight to Governor Tryon!

In our eagerness for everyday details about Washington’s life, we’ve seized on that description. But I don’t think it’s reliable.

We know from Gen. Washington’s expense account that he bought a phaeton and a double harness before leaving Philadelphia. A phaeton is a four-wheeled carriage. A sulky is a light, one-horse vehicle, usually with only two wheels, and thus would have been less impressive for a commander-in-chief.

Washington did wear a colored sash, which he called a “ribband,” as a mark of his rank as commander-in-chief, as shown in the Peale painting above. However, we also know that:

• Washington didn’t establish that insignia until 14 July.
• His sash was light blue; a purple sash indicated a major general, one rank below.
• He bought his ribband on 10 July, two weeks after leaving New York.

I have no information one way or the other on the generalissimo’s preference for “a long plume of feathers in his hat.” But unless someone finds a source about Washington’s wardrobe other than Janet Montgomery, writing up to a half-century later, I doubt we should say that he made such a flashy entrance into New York.

General Folsom and General Sullivan

Yesterday I quoted the New Hampshire general Nathaniel Folsom’s complaint to the government back home about Col. John Stark refusing to acknowledge his authority in late June 1775. (Image of the Stark statue here courtesy of the webcomic The Adventures of Brigadier General John Stark.)

Stark had been on the siege lines for about two months by that point. He had arrived as a militia captain, but his regiment reorganized itself as part of the New England army, and he apparently felt he answered directly to Gen. Artemas Ward.

Then for some reason Stark decided he would recognize Folsom’s authority. On 1 July, the New Hampshire government replied to Folsom’s good news:

It gives us great Pleasure to find by yours of 26 [sic] last month that a reconciliation had taken place between you & Col. Stark: We doubt not you’ll use your utmost endeavours to keep up a good Harmony among the Troops

One day later, Gen. George Washington arrived from Philadelphia with commissions for all the Continental Army generals. And representing New Hampshire in that group was…John Sullivan.

Sullivan and Folsom had been their colony’s representatives to the First Continental Congress. Sullivan went back for the second, which put him in great position to point out that (as far as the Congress knew when it was drawing up commissions) there was no general from New Hampshire, and he was available. Hint, hint.

On his first full day in Cambridge, Gen. Washington acknowledged Folsom’s presence in his general orders:

It is ordered that Col. [John] Glover’s Regiment be ready this evening, with all their Accoutrements, to march at a minutes warning to support General Falsam of the New Hampshire forces, in case his Lines should be attack’d.

After all, Washington had met Folsom as a peer at the first Congress. He couldn’t just ignore the man. But he didn’t have a Continental commission for him. Awkward.

Sullivan arrived in Massachusetts on 10 July. Ten days later, Washington told the Congress that “General Folsom proposed…to retire.” Apparently the New Hampshire officers had worked out some arrangement among themselves, which doesn’t show up in any official document.

Folsom returned to New Hampshire, where in August the colony’s legislature voted to make him the sole general of its militia. Sullivan and Stark remained with the Continental Army.

General Folsom and Colonel Stark

On 29 May 1775, the New Hampshire Provincial Congress chose Nathaniel Folsom to command all its forces in the war against the Crown—which consisted of two regiments. Folsom arrived on the siege lines outside Boston on 20 June, three days after those regiments had fought in the Battle of Bunker Hill. And immediately he found trouble.

On 23 June, Folsom wrote back to the New Hampshire government from Medford:

In my Letter to you yesterday I acquainted you that on my arrival here I Imediately waited on the Capt. General [Artemas Ward]; he then Order’d me to make return to him of the Two Regiments, viz. Colo. [John] Stark’s & Colo. [James] Reed’s, of their Situation and Circumstances; on my return here I sent orders to the Two Colos. to make return of their respective Regiments to me.

Colo. Reed Imediately obey’d the order but Colo. Stark repeatedly and at last absolutely refused to comply. I am well inform’d by Mr. Stark’s best friends that he does not Intend to be under any subordination to any Person appointed by the Congress of New Hampshire to the general command of the New Hampr Troops. I have tried all conciliatory methods both by Personal Conversation and the mediation of Friends, but without effect.

In consequence whereof I this afternoon again waited on the Capt. General at Head Quarters to take his order on the matter; he requested me to advise with the Committee of Safety of New Hampr on the Business, as Colo. Stark has received no Commission yet from you, he thinks he does not properly come under his cognizance. Gentlemen, it is I trust unnecessary to hint to you that without a Proper subordination it will be absolutely Impossible for me to Execute the Trust you have Reposed in me; in my last conversation with Mr. Stark, he told me he could take his Pack and return home (and meant as I suppose to Lead his men with him.) I represented to him the dishonorable part he would thereby act towards both Colonies.

I have since made Enquiry & find he would not be able to Lead off many more than the supernumerors of his Regiment, it still consisting of 13 Companys. I think a Regiment might be form’d of the men who have been under his command without his being appointed to the Command of ’em.

I must do the Justice to Letn. Col. [Isaac] Wyman to say he has behaved prudently, Courageously and very much like a Gentleman, and I think I could recommend him to the command as soon as any Person I know.

Just as things were looking interesting, two days later Folsom reported:

In my letter of the 23d Instant I informed you that Col. Stark refused subordination to my orders. But yesterday he made such submission as induces me to desire you to pass over said Letter, so far as it relates to him, unnoticed.

Why did Stark change his mind? I have no idea.

TOMORROW: How long did Gen. Folsom stay in command?

“You will have bloody work to-day”

Yet another version of the Abijah Willard–William Prescott anecdote I’ve been discussing appeared in The Prescott Memorial, a genealogy published in 1870 by William Prescott, M.D.

That book quoted manuscript material from “Dr. Oliver Prescott, Jr., who was a nephew of Colonel William Prescott, and intimate in his family”; he had heard Col. Prescott often “relate a variety of anecdotes and incidents in his experience while in the army,” which he subsequently wrote down. In 1870, those pages were owned by “Miss Harriet Prescott of Cambridge, Mass.”

This version of the tale goes:

On the morning of the battle [of Bunker Hill], Governor [Thomas] Gage, the British commander, viewed the American works from an elevated position in Boston (Copp’s Hill), and called upon the tory refugees to see if they knew the commanding officer.

Abijah Willard, a mandamus counsellor, whose wife was a sister to Colonel Prescott, having viewed the works with the glass, informed Gage that he knew the commander well, “It is my brother-in-law, Prescott.”

“Will he fight?” asked Gage.

“Yes,” replied Willard, “that man will fight h—l, and if his men are like him you will have bloody work to-day.”

Each version of the story quotes Willard’s reply differently, though all three replies convey the same warning about Prescott’s bellicosity.

So what can we conclude? It seems certain that young men in the Prescott family heard this story as they grew up. They had no written source, and consequently the stories diverged before the mid-1800s. Nevertheless, all three versions contain the same core elements: Uncle Abijah Willard, Gen. Gage, Col. Prescott in the redoubt, the question “Will he fight?”

But there’s a question I’ve learned to ask about all early stories of British officials during the siege of Boston: How could Americans have known? Given that there was a, you know, war going on, how could the Prescott family have learned about Willard’s conversation with Gage?

Paul Lockhart describes the difficulty of Willard recognizing Prescott at the distance from Charlestown to Boston, and it would be even harder for Prescott to have heard Willard. Furthermore, as described in his entry in the Dictionary of Canadian Biography, Willard evacuated in 1776, worked as a commissary for the British army, and settled in New Brunswick after the war. So even if he had remained friends with Prescott up until the war began, he wasn’t around to pass on this story.

After Willard died in 1789, his third wife, the former Mary McKown, came back to Massachusetts until her own death in 1807. As for Willard’s surviving children:

• daughter Elizabeth Wales also returned and died in Lancaster in 1822. Family historian Joseph Willard described her as “a very bright, intelligent lady, full of vivacity and conversation.”
• daughter Anna Goodhue became the wife of a U.S. senator (shown above) and died in Lancaster in 1858. Joseph Willard also had nice things to say about her, though he didn’t describe her as a conversationalist.
• son Samuel might never have left Lancaster, and lived there well into the 1800s.

That leaves the possibility that Abijah Willard’s widow or children heard the story from him and later passed it on to Col. Prescott or his family. Or maybe they took some statement Willard made about Prescott always being ready to fight and attached it to a very dramatic moment. It seems significant that the Prescott boys grew up believing that the tale involved Willard, not just any Loyalist.

Nevertheless, if Willard couldn’t have recognized Prescott at that distance, then the tale is a myth. Alas.

“He will fight as long as a drop of blood remains in his veins”

Yesterday I quoted what I think is the earliest printed version of the story of Abijah Willard recognizing his relative William Prescott on the redoubt before the Battle of Bunker Hill.

Richard Frothingham included a slightly different version of the story in his History of the Siege of Boston, first published in 1849:

To inspire confidence, Colonel Prescott mounted the parapet and walked leisurely around it, inspecting the works, giving directions to the officers, and encouraging the men by approbation, or amusing them with humor. One of his captains, understanding his motive, followed his example while superintending the labors of his company. This had the intended effect. The men became indifferent to the cannonade, or received the balls with repeated cheers.

The tall, commanding form of Prescott was observed by General [Thomas] Gage, as he was reconnoitring the Americans through his glass, who inquired of Councillor Willard, near him, “Who the person was who appeared to command?”

Willard recognized his brother-in-law.

“Will he fight?” again inquired Gage.

“Yes, sir; he is an old soldier, and will fight as long as a drop of blood remains in his veins!”

“The works must be carried,” was the reply.

Frothingham cited a handwritten memoir of Col. Prescott by his namesake son. (As usual, I’ve broken up the single long paragraph in Frothingham’s book to make the text easier to read online.)

In 1875, Frothingham submitted that manuscript to the Massachusetts Historical Society, and it was published in the society’s Proceedings and in a booklet called The Battle-field of Bunker Hill. The anecdote is nearly the same:

As Governor Gage and his staff, with some other officers, were watching the progress of the battle from Copp’s Hill in Boston, he handed his glass to Colonel Willard, one of his council, and asked him to look and see if he knew the person who appeared to have the command of the rebels. He looked, and told the governor he knew him well; it was Colonel Prescott, his brother-in-law, and that he was sorry to see him there. “Will he fight?” inquires the governor. “Yes,” replied Colonel W., “he is an old soldier; he will fight as long as a drop of blood remains in his veins; it will be a bloody day, you may depend on it.” “The works must be carried,” was the reply.

The manuscript included another anecdote about Prescott and Willard:

Colonel Prescott had determined never to be taken alive. A few months before the battle, while he commanded a regiment of minutemen, his brother-in-law, Colonel Willard, was at his house; and, endeavoring to dissuade him from the active part he was taking against the king’s government, among other things, suggested that, if he should be found in arms against it, his life and estate would be forfeited for treason. He replied: “I have made up my mind on that subject; I think it probable I may be found in arms, but I will never be taken alive. The Tories shall never have the satisfaction of seeing me hanged.”

As for the relationship between the two men, Willard’s first wife, Elizabeth, was Prescott’s older sister. She had died in 1751. By the Battle of Bunker Hill, Willard was on his third wife. The two men also shared the experience of serving as officers during the wars against the French. They didn’t live in the same town, however, or even the same county, and I’m not sure if there’s any evidence independent of these anecdotes that the men kept in close touch.

TOMORROW: Yet another version.

(Photo of the Prescott statue at the Bunker Hill Monument above by rjones0586, via Flickr under a Creative Commons license.)

“Colonel Prescott will fight you to the gates of Hell!”

In The Whites of Their Eyes, his new book on the Battle of Bunker Hill, Paul Lockhart treats the story (dramatized here) of Abijah Willard recognizing Col. William Prescott on the redoubt on Breed’s Hill dismissively. In fact, he relegates the tale to a footnote. (Well, at least it’s not an endnote.)

Lockhart writes:

It’s a stirring anecdote, to be sure, but undoubtedly apocryphal. The closest [Gen. Thomas] Gage could have been to the fighting was Copp’s Hill—and if he was there, neither [Gen. Henry] Clinton nor [Gen. John] Burgoyne remarked upon it. And at that distance—over one thousand yards lay between Copp’s Hill and the summit of Breed’s—the idea that Willard could have seen and recognized Prescott, given the primitive optics of the day and the amount of gunsmoke that must have hung in the air, seems implausible at best.

Since I’m rather fond of that anecdote, I decided to check into when it appeared on the scene. The earliest version I’ve found appeared in the back of Memoirs of His Own Time, by Alexander Graydon, published in 1846. That book was edited by John Stockton Littell, who added appendixes about Revolutionary events and figures. In one of those, Littell wrote:

Gage, with his officers and others in whom he had confidence, went up to Beacon Hill to reconnoitre; after having looked through his telescope for some time, he handed it to a Mr. Willard, a mandamus counsellor, and describing the leader of the American troops as head and shoulders above the works, asked him who it was, and if the rebels would fight. Willard told him, that it was his brother-in-law, Prescott; “as to his men,” said he, “I cannot answer for them; but Colonel Prescott will fight you to the gates of Hell!”

Littell stated that his source for those facts was “a MS. of his friend, the late estimable and Reverend Edward G. Prescott, a grandson of Colonel Prescott.”

TOMORROW: But I found other versions as well.

Midwifery at the Shirley-Eustis House, 19 June

At the Shirley-Eustis House in Roxbury this Sunday, 19 June, from 1:00 to 4:00 P.M., there will be a hands-on demonstration of eighteenth-century midwifery techniques by Executive Director Patti Violette.

My first thought is that a hands-on demonstration must mean that site has a really dedicated set of volunteers.

But the event description says:

The midwife's duties would consist of gynecology, obstetrics, pharmacy, nursing, and grief counseling – she performed all aspects of medicine in the 18th century – except for surgery. This program will demonstrate the historical time line of a midwife while comparing the occupations of apothecary, physician, and man-midwives.

“This is a great way to truly understand how medicine and science has brought us into the 21st century,” said Executive Director Patti Violette, “After you experience this program, you will marvel at our great strides in medicinal technology since the 18th century. We will have hands-on activities creating soothing herbal remedies. Most of the items that we will use are probably already stored in your own kitchen!”

So it looks like the “hands-on” part will be restricted to those herbal remedies. Unless, of course, someone wants to volunteer.

The demonstrations run continuously, and the Shirley-Eustis House suggests a $5 donation. Or perhaps you could volunteer. For review, here’s a transcript of a podcast about midwifery from Colonial Williamsburg. And another podcast from the University of Houston about the man-midwife controversy.

Upcoming events at the Shirley-Eustis House this summer explore an eighteenth-century town meeting, a day in the life of a servant, and country/contra dancing.

(Photo of the Shirley-Eustis House gazebo by Tim Sackton via Flickr under a Creative Commons license.)

A Dinner for General Washington

On 18 June 1775, George Washington wrote in his diary:

Dined at Mullens upon Schoolkill. Spent the Evening at my lodgings.

The next day he recorded dinner at the house of Joseph Reed, soon to be his first military secretary. And then, on the day he received his formal commission as general from the Continental Congress, Washington stopped keeping his diary for a few years.

Years later, Dr. Benjamin Rush described what was probably that dinner at a tavern along the Schuylkill:

A few days after the appointment of General Washington to be commander in chief of the American armies, I was invited by a party of delegates and several citizens of Philadelphia to a dinner which was given to him at a tavern on the banks of the Skuilkill below the city. Dr. [Benjamin] Franklin, Mr. [Thomas] Jefferson, James Wilson, Jno. Langdon of New Hampshire and about a dozen more constituted the whole company.

The first toast that was given after dinner was “The Commander in chief of the American Armies.” General Washington rose from his seat, and with some confusion thanked the company for the honor they did him. The whole company instantly rose, and drank the toast standing. This scene, so unexpected, was a solemn one. A silence followed it, as if every heart was penetrated with the awful, but great events which were to follow the use of the sword of liberty which had just been put into General Washington’s hands by the unanimous voice of his country.

In his autobiography Rush added another anecdote:

About this time I saw Patrick Henry at his lodgings, who told me that General Washington had been with him, and informed him that he was unequal to the station in which his country had placed him, and then added with tears in his eyes “Remember, Mr. Henry, what I now tell you: From the day I enter upon the command of the American armies, I date my fall, and the ruin of my reputation.”

That story seems out of character for Washington to me. But of course he worked hard at presenting a certain character to the world, and we’re not privy to many unguarded moments. A slight change in the words Henry remembered—“I fear that from the day I enter…,” or some such—makes it easy to imagine those words from Washington’s mouth.

“The enemy fir’d very warm from Boston”

One of the standard sources on the Battle of Bunker Hill is a letter written on 25 June 1775 by Peter Brown of Westford, who served in Col. William Prescott’s regiment. The Massachusetts Historical Society displays the letter in its online exhibit about the battle.

The battle begins:

after tarrying on parade till Nine at Night [on 16 June], we march’d down, on to Charleston Hill against Copts hill in Boston, where we entrench’d & made a Fort, ten Rods long, and eight wide, with a Breastwork of about eight more, we work’d there undiscovered till about five in the Morning, when we saw our danger, being against Ships of the Line, and all Boston fortified against us,

The danger we were in made us think there was treachery and that we were brought there to be all slain, and I must and will say that there was treachery oversight or presumption in the Conduct of our Officers, for about 5 in the morning, we not having more than half our fort done, they began to fire (I suppose as soon as they had orders) pretty briskly for a few minutes, then ceas’d but soon begun again, and fird to the number of twenty minutes, (they killd but one of our Men) then ceas’d to fire till about eleven oClock when they began to fire as brisk as ever, which caus’d many of our young Country people to desert, apprehending the danger in a clearer manner than others who were more diligent in digging, & fortifying ourselves against them.

We began to be almost beat out, being fatigued by our Labour, having no sleep the night before, very little to eat, no drink but rum, but what we hazzarded our lives to get, we grew faint, Thirsty, hungry and weary.—

The enemy fir’d very warm from Boston, and from on board their Ships till about 2 oClock when they began to fire from Ships that lay in Ferry way and from a ship that lay in the river against us, to stop our reinforcement, which they did in some Measure one cannon cut three Men in two on the neck,

Our Officers sent time after time for Cannon from Cambridge in the Morning & could get but four, the Captn of which [Samuel Gridley?] fir’d a few times then swung his Hat three times round to the enemy and ceas’d to fire, then about three o Clock there was a cessation of the Cannons roaring, soon after we espied as many as 40, boats or barges coming over, full of troops it is supposed there were about 3000 of them, and about 700 of us left…

Read the whole letter here.

In the same letter Brown told his mother in Newport, “I do a Clerk or Orderly Sergants business; which requires much care but the Duty is easier, and the pay higher than a private Soldiers.” His ability to write got him that job, and let him record an ordinary soldier’s experience of the battle. Other than this letter, very little is known of Peter Brown.

A Brace of Bunker Hill Authors in 2011

This season has brought two new books on the Battle of Bunker Hill and surrounding events, and both authors will be speaking in Boston over the next two days.

On Thursday, 16 June, Prof. Paul Lockhart of Wright State University will lecture at the Massachusetts Historical Society on his book The Whites of Their Eyes: Bunker Hill, the First American Army, and the Emergence of George Washington. His previous books include The Drillmaster of Valley Forge: The Baron de Steuben and the Making of the American Army.

This talk is co-sponsored by the Longfellow House–Washington’s Headquarters National Historic Site in Cambridge, now offering free tours every Wednesday through Sunday. Lockhart’s lecture is free and open to the public, with refreshments before and books for sale after, but the historical society asks people to reserve a space in advance.

On Friday, 17 June, James L. Nelson will be the orator at the Bunker Hill Day Commemorative Exercises. His latest book is With Fire and Sword: The Battle of Bunker Hill and the Beginning of the American Revolution. The exercises at the Bunker Hill Monument in Charlestown start at 10:00 A.M., following a religious service and a parade.

Nelson is the author of George Washington’s Secret Navy, Benedict Arnold’s Navy, and George Washington’s Great Gamble, as well as some award-winning maritime historical fiction. With Fire and Sword might be Nelson’s first book about fighting over (gasp!) land. But of course Royal Navy gunners were the first British to fire on the provincials building their redoubt on Breed’s Hill.

“To take immediate Possession of Bunker’s Hill, and Dorchester Neck”

A couple of days ago, I quoted a warning from New Hampshire to Massachusetts about the British army planning to seize the Charlestown and Dorchester peninsulas.

In response to that and other warnings, the Massachusetts Committee of Safety met on 15 June at the house of Harvard steward Jonathan Hastings and came to this conclusion:

Whereas, it appears of Importance to the Safety of this Colony, that possession of the Hill, called Bunker’s Hill, in Charlestown, be securely kept and defended; and also some one hill or hills on Dorchester Neck [i.e., peninsula] be likewise Secured. Therefore, Resolved, Unanimously, that it be recommended to the Council of War, that the abovementioned Bunker’s Hill be maintained, by sufficient force being posted there; and as the particular situation of Dorchester Neck is unknown to this Committee, they advise that the Council of War take and pursue such steps respecting the Same, as to them shall appear to be for the Security of this Colony.

As Charles Martyn interpreted the documentary evidence in his biography of Gen. Artemas Ward, that commander convened his council of war, also in the Hastings house, and decided:

Resolved in Council of War to take immediate Possession of Bunker’s Hill, and Dorchester Neck.

But Gen. John Thomas wasn’t at Ward’s council of war in Cambridge. In fact, I’m not sure whether he was at any of Ward’s councils of war. And Thomas had responsibility for Dorchester and the southern wing of the siege.

So the Committee of Safety sent two members, Joseph Palmer and Benjamin White, to meet with Thomas. And Ward’s council of war sent Gen. Israel Putnam, Col. Joseph Ward (the commander’s secretary), and Col. Samuel Gerrish to relay its resolve. They were all “to consult with the Commanding Officers at Roxbury respecting the expediency of carrying the above Resolutions into Execution.”

Thomas didn’t take the decision of Ward’s council as an order. He evidently convened his own council of war, and they concluded that they didn’t have the resources to hold the Dorchester peninsula against a likely British countermove. As a result, that area remained a no-man’s land until the following March.

Would the siege of Boston have been different if Gen. Thomas’s troops had taken possession of the Dorchester peninsula at the same time that Ward’s wing marched into Charlestown? Well, sure. But different in what way is hard to figure.

Would Gen. Thomas Gage have split his forces to attack both peninsulas, and not been able to capture either? Or would sending men into Dorchester have weakened Thomas’s defenses in Roxbury, opening the door for a British charge down the Boston Neck?

Given the topography of the Dorchester peninsula, would its hills’ defenders have been cut off? (Most of the provincials who went into Charlestown got out.) Would holding the heights of either peninsula have mattered for the New England forces when they had little to no heavy artillery? We’ll never know.

Meanwhile, in Philadelphia, on 15 June 1775, the Continental Congress appointed George Washington as commander-in-chief of the army it had just created on paper.

(Above is Thomas’s headquarters in Roxbury, now known as the Dillaway-Thomas House. The photograph is by Tim Sackton via Flickr through a Creative Commons license.)

“Some resolutions which they had come into”

While folks in New England were discussing whether to occupy the Charlestown and Dorchester heights, here’s what the Continental Congress was up to in Philadelphia:

The Congress met and agreeable to the order of the day, resolved itself into a committee of the whole, to take into consideration &c.

As a committee of the whole, the Congress didn’t have to keep notes on its deliberations. In fact, it had been working as a committee of the whole for so long the secretary didn’t even bother to write out what they were considering.

After some time spent thereon, the president resumed the chair, and Mr [Samuel] Ward [of Rhode Island] reported, that not having yet come to a conclusion they desired him to move for leave to sit again. At the same time they desired him to report some resolutions which they had come into.

The resolutions being read, were adopted as follows:

Resolved, That six companies of expert rifflemen, be immediately raised in Pensylvania, two in Maryland, and two in Virginia; that each company consist of a captain, three lieutenants, four serjeants, four corporals, a drummer or trumpeter, and sixty-eight privates.

That each company, as soon as compleated, shall march and join the army near Boston, to be there employed as light infantry, under the command of the chief Officer in that army.

That the pay of the Officers and privates be as follows, viz. a captain @ 20 dollars per month; a lieutenant @ 13 1/3 dollars; a serjeant @ 8 dollars; a corporal @ 7 1/3 dollars; drummer or [trumpeter] @ 7 1/3 doll.; privates @ 6 2/3 dollars; to find their own arms and cloaths.

That the form of the enlistment be in the following words:

I have, this day, voluntarily enlisted myself, as a soldier, in the American continental army, for one year, unless sooner discharged: And I do bind myself to conform, in all instances, to such rules and regulations, as are, or shall be, established for the government of the said Army.

Upon motion, Resolved, That Mr. [George] Washington, Mr. [Philip] Schuyler, Mr. [Silas] Deane, Mr. [Thomas] Cushing, and Mr. [Joseph] Hewes be a committee to bring in a dra’t of Rules and regulations for the government of the army. . . .

Resolved, That the Congress will, to Morrow, resolve itself into a committee of the whole, to take into consideration the ways and means of raising money, and the state of America. This to be a standing order, until the business is compleated.

Adjourned till to Morrow at 9 o’Clock.

The record doesn’t really say what was significant about those resolutions. The Congress was accepting control of the army outside Boston, as the Massachusetts delegation had requested weeks before. In other words, it was legally turning the New England colonies’ combined army into the Continental Army. Furthermore, the Congress was going to pay for regiments from three other colonies to head to Cambridge and join the soldiers there.

Of the five men put on the committee to draw up rules for the army, the first two—Washington and Schuyler—would shortly be made commander-in-chief and major-general of that army. (That’s Schuyler up above.)

As a result, 14 June is usually treated as the anniversary of the founding of the U.S. Army, as well as (by coincidence) the anniversary of the establishment of the U.S. flag in 1777. But which was more significant?