“More of a spectacle than a science”

Lily Ford’s Public Domain Review article “‘For the Sake of the Prospect’: Experiencing the World from Above in the Late 18th Century” drifted across my vision a while back.

She made an interesting observation about different national experiences of ballooning:

The first successful manned balloon flights were conducted in France with state support. The ascents themselves became known as “experiments”, and were concerned with an exploration of the upper air. In Britain, the Royal Society withheld support from such endeavours, so the first British ascents were underwritten, in the words of one early balloonist, by “a tax on the curiosity of the public”. This affected the cultural profile of ballooning in England: it was always more of a spectacle than a science.

British balloonists, including the Boston-born Dr. John Jeffries, nonetheless tried to do science in the air. Ford’s focus was one such man, the first to try to convey the experience of human flight through graphic design:

Thomas Baldwin, an early balloonist who hired [Vincent] Lunardi’s balloon for an ascent over Chester in 1785, inscribed a long book about his one day in the air to "the principal inhabitants of Chester" who had covered his costs. Uniquely in this period, Baldwin attempted to describe his experience not only verbally, but using images: three expensively produced plates depicting the view from the balloon, the balloon in the view, and the charted passage of the balloon over the landscape.

The first image in his Airopaidia, “A Circular View from the Balloon at its greatest Elevation”, departs from established conventions of landscape representation. At a quick glance it resembles an eyeball in its spherical regularity. . . . “The Spectator is supposed to be in the Car of the Balloon, suspended above the Center of the View” (Baldwin:iv). The ground is visible in the “iris”, a central roundel which contains, upon inspection, the plan view of a town and its river. This is Chester, fondly placed at the centre of this entirely new kind of view. The town is framed by a thick “Amphitheatre, or white Floor of Clouds” (Baldwin:iv). Drawing clouds was clearly not one of Baldwin’s strengths.

Baldwin even recommended laying the book on the floor or ground and looking straight down on this picture to understand it.

A later image is closer to the aerial views that have become entirely familiar in an age of airplanes and satellites.

The main point of this picture was the path of the balloon over the landscape, as shown by the looping black thread across the landscape.

Indeed, I suspect Baldwin created this image using a map of the area around Chester rather than sketching what he actually saw from the air. Cartographers had actually produced aerial views simply through mental effort.

Jason Russell House in Arlington Open for Patriots’ Day

Earlier this month it wasn’t clear if the Jason Russell House would be open during Patriots’ Day, but the Arlington Historical Society has announced its visiting hours.

There will be guided tours of the Jason Russell House on Sunday, 16 April, from 1:00 to 4:00 P.M. and on Monday, 17 April, from noon to 4:00 P.M.

Admission includes the exhibit “Menotomy—Road to Revolution.” The cost is $8 for adults, $4 for children aged six to eighteen, and free for younger children.

The house itself was studied by the Dendrochronology Laboratory at Oxford University in 2012. That examination showed that some of the timbers were cut around 1684 and probably used to build an older structure. Then Jason Russell bought the property and erected this house in the 1740s, using some older salvaged beams and some new wood.

By 1775 Russell was in his late fifties and too disabled to serve in the regular militia for this western part of Cambridge. Nonetheless, he chose not to leave his house, near the road on which the British columns marched west in the morning.

In fact, Russell welcomed militiamen from towns to the south (Dedham, Needham) and the northeast (Essex County) onto his property. Those men planned to shoot at the withdrawing redcoats, despite warnings that their ambush position was so close to the road they could be outflanked. They were.

British soldiers killed twelve men on this site. Another eight survived by holing up (down?) in the basement.

The dead, including Russell, were buried in one grave. In 1848 the people of West Cambridge, as the town was then known, erected a granite obelisk on that site. However, they knew the names of only three of the men interred there. The rest were from other towns, so they didn’t have local descendants and neighbors to remember them. The Centennial of 1875 stimulated more research, providing the names all the men who died in the battle there.

As I previously noted, the Arlington Historical Society is also sponsoring a lecture on Tuesday, 25 April, at 7:30 P.M. in the town’s Masonic Temple on “The Battle of Menotomy” by A. Michael Ruderman.

“General Gage and the Guns” Tonight

Tonight, April 12, I’ll deliver an online talk for the Army Heritage Center Foundation in Carlisle, Pennsylvania, on “General Gage and the Guns of the Boston Train.”

This is one of several talks I’ve developed from The Road to Concord. This one looks at events through Gen. Thomas Gage’s eyes, examining how he tried to stymie the Massachusetts Provincial Congress’s effort to build a military force.

Here’s Gage reporting to Viscount Barrington, the longtime British secretary of war, on 25 Sept 1774:

I write to your Lordship by a private Ship fearing the Post to New York which must convey my Letters from hence for the Packet not quite safe, tho’ it has not yet been stopped; but People have been so questioned, and impeded on the Road, there is no knowing how soon the Post may be examined, for there seems no Respect for any Thing.

Affairs here are worse that even in the Time of the Stamp-Act, I don’t mean in Boston, for throughout the Country. The New England Provinces, except part of New Hampshire, are I may say in Arms, and the Question is now not whether you shall quell Disturbances in Boston, but whether those Provinces shall be conquered, and I find it is the General Resolution of all the Continent to support the Massachusett’s Bay in their Opposition to the late Acts. From Appearances no People are more determined for a Civil War, the whole Country from hence to New York armed, training and providing Military Stores.

Every Man supposed averse to their Measures so molest’d & oppressed, that if he can get out of the Country, which is not an easy Matter, he takes Shelter in Boston.

Clearly, Gen. Gage warned his superiors that in Massachusetts the Crown government was facing opposition that was widespread, armed, and militant. He didn’t even trust the royal mail. Neighboring colonies were joining the rebels. He was losing potential allies in the countryside as they sought safety in Boston.

When Gage’s messages reached London, however, Lord North and his ministers viewed them as alarmist. They didn’t accept his reports as factual. They lost faith in him.

Ironically, some later historians have judged Gage to be too cautious. He was indeed reluctant to act until the secretary of state, Lord Dartmouth, told him he had to—but that was in large part because he knew how strong his opponents could be. In the fall of 1774 and winter of 1775, Gage was cautious because the situation warranted it.

A Taste of Shumate’s Sugar Act

At the Journal of the American Revolution, John Gilbert McCurdy (author of Quarters) just reviewed Ken Shumate’s new book, The Sugar Act and the American Revolution.

I’m pleased to know about this study because I’ve long seen histories mention the Sugar Act of 1764 as colonial Americans’ first grievance of the decade. It prompted James Otis’s pamphlet The Rights of the British Colonies Asserted and Proved, which established “no taxation without representation” as the logical foundation for colonial resistance (without using that phrase, which didn’t appear until 1768).

And yet in looking at the more widespread resistance to the Crown in the late 1760s, and reading the colonists’ own arguments, the taxes and restrictions on sugar (and molasses, and rum, and later coffee and wine) show up barely at all.

Shumate’s study offers some explanations. First, the traders of the 1760s were used to an imperial tax on molasses, which was first instituted in 1733. The main purpose of that law was to discourage trading with French, Spanish, and Dutch West Indies, so objecting to it didn’t come across as patriotic or law-abiding. It was easier to smuggle quietly.

Then in 1764 prime minister George Grenville revised the law, actually cutting the duty in the hope that more American merchants would see obeying the law as the economical alternative. Then in early 1766 the Marquess of Rockingham’s government reduced the duty still further. There was literally less to complain about. To be sure, that last revision meant the government was taxing molasses from the British islands, too, but the North Americans were so pleased with Rockingham’s repeal of the Stamp Act that they didn’t raise a fuss.

Another big factor in the colonial response, I think, was that that Sugar Act’s taxes and trade restrictions affected only a small portion of the population. Molasses traders and rum distillers were a special interest. The biggest threat to their business actually came from distillers on the British Caribbean islands producing their own rum instead of shipping all the raw material to the mainland.

In contrast, the Stamp Act affected everyone in the colonies who filed or responded to lawsuits, read newspapers, got married, and more, which meant everyone. Though rum made from molasses was popular, tea was even more popular, so Charles Townshend’s 1767 tax on that import produced more widespread, longer-lasting opposition.

As McCurdy writes:

Although strict enforcement actually increased with the 1766 revision, the Americans raised few objections to the Sugar Act. Instead, between 1768 and 1772, the law brought in nearly £165,000 from duties on molasses, sugar, madeira, and other goods. But taxing British sugars did little to stem the tide of foreign products as 97 percent of the four million gallons of molasses that came into America derived from foreign sources.

Colonial ambivalence toward the Sugar Act continued despite the Townshend duties of 1767. Although Boston merchants demanded that no British goods would be imported until all taxes were repealed — including the Sugar Act — resistance from merchants in Philadelphia and New York forced them to drop this demand. Indeed, it was not until after the Boston Tea Party of 1773 and the Coercive Acts of 1774 that Americans turned against the Sugar Act.

Looking back, writers started to treat the Sugar Act as the start of their troubles. At the time, however, colonists saw bigger things to complain about.

How Americans Took Sides over Georgium Sidus

The Age of Revolutions just published M. A. Davis’s article “American Uranus: The Early Republic and the Seventh Planet.”

Like my political snakes article on the same site, this starts with eighteenth-century science and moves into the political implications of that new understanding.

In the middle of the war over American independence, the astronomer William Herschel (shown here) extended the reach of Britain in a new way: he discovered a planet beyond Saturn.

All previous planets had been known since antiquity, so this was a very big deal. Herschel himself had reported this object as a comet, just a very big one in a near-circular orbit far from Earth.

“You will find I hope that we have not been idle,” wrote Royal Society president Joseph Banks, sending the news to a member busy negotiating the Treaty of Paris: Benjamin Franklin. For those men, scientific discovery transcended new national borders.

Thomas Jefferson also admired Herschel, noting “the number of double stars” he had discovered. But he didn’t like the name that Herschel gave to that new planet, telling the Rev. Dr. Ezra Stiles that the British “foolishly call it Georgium sidus,” after King George III.

At that time Jefferson was calling that planet “Herschel,” after its discoverer. Not surprisingly, that suggestion had come from a French astronomer, Jérôme Lalande. No matter that Herschel himself had chosen the name Georgium sidus [George’s star], after his patron, who granted him £200 per year.

There were still other names proposed. The Swedish astronomer Erik Prosperin suggested “Neptune,” which some colleagues connected to the strength of Britain’s Royal Navy. Davis’s article reports that in 1791 the Jeffersonian National Gazette of the U.S. used “Cybele.” That was the mother goddess of ancient Phrygia. Anything to avoid honoring King George.

Davis writes:

Not every American hesitated to use the British term for the new planet, even in the Early Republic. In 1795, the Gazette of the United States and Daily Evening Advertiser, an vigorously Federalist paper from Philadelphia, mentions the “‘tenth muse,’ lately arrived from ‘Georgium Sidus.’”

Given the Anglophilia of the Federalist press, perhaps this is not surprising – but the divide over the new planet was not quite that simply partisan. On April 20, 1801, DC’s National Intelligencer and Washington Advertiser had no problem referring to (in Herschel’s obituary) his role as “discoverer of the new planet Georgium sidus.” And the National Intelligencer, in an age of partisan divides in the press, was an enthusiastically Republican paper and one closely affiliated with Jefferson! Jefferson’s preferred “Planet Herschel” appeared next in the Alexandria Gazette, Commercial & Political in 1811 – a Federalist paper.

Of course, 1811 wasn’t a good time for U.S.-British relations. American writers continued to call the planet “Herschel” most of the time through the 1840s. Only then did a dark horse candidate gain favor.

Back in 1781, the German astronomer Johann Elert Bode had responded to William Herschel’s announcement by going back into older star charts and finding the planet catalogued there, mistaken for a star. By stringing those sightings together, Bode calculated its slow orbit. He also proposed a name for that planet. Since the mythological Saturn was Jupiter’s father, Bode apparently reasoned, the next planet out should be Saturn’s father.

Now technically the Latin name for Saturn’s father was “Caelus.” That god’s standard Greek name was “Ouranos.” But Bode used Uranus, and that’s the name Americans came around to. Even Britain’s National Almanac Office adopted Uranus in 1850.

“Women in War Symposium,” Schuylerville, 6 May

On Saturday, 6 May, the Saratoga County 250th Commission and the Marshall House will host the the 2nd Annual Women in War Symposium, offering perspectives on the various roles women played during the American Revolution.

The scheduled presentations are:

• Don Hagist: “Killed, Imprisoned, Struck by Lightning: British Soldiers’ Wives on Campaign”
• Philip Hamilton: “The Excitement and Perils of War: Henry and Lucy Knox’s Revolutionary War”
• Katie Turner Getty: “In the Greatest Terror: Women and Children in Crisis after Lexington and Concord”
• Alexander Cain: “‘I Have Scarcely a Mouthful of Bread for Myself or Children’: Mary McAlpin and the Plight of Loyalist Women during the Saratoga Campaign”
• Jenna Schnitzer: “After Burgoyne Surrendered: Women of the Convention Army”

This symposium will take place from 9:00 A.M. to 3:00 P.M. at Saratoga Town Hall, 12 Spring Street, Schuylerville, New York. The $50 registration fee will cover morning refreshments and lunch. For more details and registration, visit this page.

On the day before the symposium, the organizers will offer “Through the Baroness’ Eyes,” a four-hour tour of sites of the Burgoyne campaign as experienced by Frederika von Massow Riedesel, wife of General Friedrich von Riedesel, Commander of the German Division of Burgoyne’s Army. Along with her three young daughters, the baroness accompanied her husband to America and left a journal and letters recording her life with the army.

The tour will follow Riedesel’s path from Fort Edward (The Red House) through Saratoga (now Schuylerville) to the Saratoga Battlefield (Taylor House) and finally the back to the Sword Surrender Site. It involves some walking over uneven terrain. There is a separate $60 registration fee for this event.

“The Funerall of the Remains of Dr. Warren”

Two of the things that merchant John Rowe valued most were Freemasonry and funerals.

He was a high-ranking member of the St. John’s Lodge, Boston’s older and higher-class English Rite lodge.

As for funerals, just as in his diary Rowe named all his midday dinner companions and everyone he spent the evening with, he also wrote down all the names of the pallbearers at Boston’s notable funerals.

On 8 Apr 1776, Boston had its funeral for Dr. Joseph Warren, killed the previous June at the Battle of Bunker Hill. That was a public event in King’s Chapel—not the doctor’s church but kept in better shape during the siege than several of the town’s meetinghouses.  

Dr. Warren was Grand Master of the St. Andrew’s Masonic order in North America. Though Rowe was a different sort of Freemason, he nevertheless wanted to turn out to honor the doctor at his interment. Especially since Warren had become a heroic American martyr.

However, Rowe had spent the siege inside the town with the royal authorities. He had never been on the forefront of the political resistance except when his business interests were involved. Though he had made nice with Continental Army officers as soon as they entered town, lots of Rowe’s neighbors suspected him of being a Tory.

Rowe’s diary entry for 8 April reads:

I attended the Church Meeting this morning & was Chose Warden with Danl. Hubbard—

I din’d at home with Richd. Green Mr. [Samuel] Parker Mrs. Rowe & Jack Rowe—

afternoon I went by Invitation of Brother [Samuel Blachley or Charles?] Webb to attend the Funerall of the Remains of Dr. Warren & went accordingly to the Councill Chamber [in the Town House] with a Design to Attend & Walk in Procession with the Lodges under my Jurisdiction with Our Proper Jewells & Cloathing—

but to my great Mortification was very much Insulted—by some furious & hot Persons—with the Least Provocation, one of Brethren thought it most Prudent for Mee to Retire I accordingly did so.

this has caused Some Uneasy Reflections in my Mind as I am not Conscius to my Self Of doing any thing Prejudicial to the Cause of America either by Will or deed—

The Corps of Dr. Warren was Carried into Chapell. Dr. [Samuel] Cooper pray’d & Mr. Perez Morton deliver’d an Oration on the Occasion—Dr. Warrens Bearers were—Genl. [Artemas] Ward—Genl. [Joseph] Fry Colo. [Richard] Gridley Dr. [John] Morgan Mr. Moses Gill & Mr. John Scolley—

There was a handsome Procession of the Craft with Two Companies of Soldiers—

After all his effort, Rowe was left outside, looking in.

Exploring the Story of Samuel Dyer

This week I have two articles up on the Journal of the American Revolution:

• “The Return of Samuel Dyer: An Attempted Assassination in Revolutionary Boston”
• “The Secrets of Samuel Dyer”

These are two parts of the same research project. To borrow the summary from the second article:

in October 1774 a sailor named Samuel Dyer returned to Boston, accusing high officers of the British army of holding him captive, interrogating him about the Boston Tea Party, and shipping him off to London in irons. Unable to file a lawsuit for damages, Dyer attacked two army officers on the town’s main street, cutting one and nearly shooting another—the first gunshot aimed at royal authorities in Boston in the whole Revolution. Those actions alarmed both sides of the political divide, and Dyer was soon locked up in the Boston jail. Everyone seemed to agree the man was insane.

But there was a lot more going on than Bostonians could see. And Dyer resurfaced in an unexpected way.

Originally I wrote up this story for The Road to Concord, but it has only a passing connection to that book’s focus, the Massachusetts Provincial Congress’s cannon. Still, the events involved many of the same players and further raised tensions in October 1774. Dyer’s attack could even have started the war in a way quite different from how we remember it.

To spread the word about this project, I’ll do a couple of audio interviews in the next few days.

On the morning of Friday, 7 April, starting at 10:00 A.M., I’ll be Jimmy Mack’s guest on the Dave Nemo show on Sirius XM, discussing the months leading up to April 1775. This will be part of the show’s “Revolution Road” segment featuring writers from the Journal of the American Revolution.

On Sunday, I’ll discuss these articles with Brady Crytzer for the Dispatches podcast. That episode will drop later this month.

Mapping Westford’s Veterans and Casualties

The town of Westford has a dedicated group of local historians and reenactors as well as the Westford Museum.

One of the latest local-history projects from Westford, created primarily by Judy Cataldo, is this online map of Revolutionary War veterans and civilian casualties in Westlawn Cemetery.

Each gravestone is pictured and accompanied by a profile of the person it commemorates. For instance:

Isaac Durant is the son of Henry and Susanna, born in Littleton on September 16, 1757. On the morning of April 19, 1775, he was living in Lexington and later testified, "that about 5:00 hearing our drum beat, we proceeded towards the parade, and soon found that large bodies of troops were marching towards us." The next month he enlisted in the army at Cambridge as a drummer and served 91 days. He continued to serve as a drummer at other times in the war, one month in 1777, 6 months in 1778, 9 months in 1779 and at the end of the war in 1781. On returning home he married Helena Wendell from Salem in 1784 and they had 9 children. He eventually moved to Westford and lived in a home on the road to the village center. Capt. David Prescott Lawrence a longtime resident of Westford stated that he remembers Isaac Durant a revolutionary soldier, who was blind and was guided about the village by a little grandson. He died in Natick on January 9, 1848 at the age of 90.

Another topic that Judy Cataldo has researched over many years is the epidemic of “camp fever” that affected both soldiers and civilians in New England during the siege of Boston. The intersection of that project and this appears in the entry for the gravestone of the daughters of militia colonel John Robinson:

In the late summer and early fall of 1775, the civilians of Massachusetts towns were besieged by an epidemic of the Bloody Flux or Camp Fever, a type of dysentery that can be deadly to children. The disease was brought into the towns by soldiers returning from their service in the camps around Boston. Col. John Robinson and his wife Huldah lost 3 of their daughters within 10 days. Betty who was born 1770 and Sarah born May 3, 1772 both passed on August 30, 1775 and Mehetebel born August 9, 1767 died on September 7 1775.

It would be nice to see more local projects like this during the Sestercentennial. And to see them preserved in forms that will survive the evolution of the web. 

More 2023 Patriots’ Day Events

The Patriots’ Day 2023 events in Minute Man National Historical Park are just one set of commemorations coming up in the area.

They’re just the easiest to keep track of since there’s a government agency to do so.

Many other events are organized at the town level by historical societies or reenacting groups. Some organizations proudly maintain traditions tied to particular days, regardless of when the holiday falls. And some sites have programs for school vacation week as well.

This is a varied sample of other Patriots’ Day–related events this month.

Saturday, 8 April, 10:30 A.M.
Bedford Parade and Pole Capping
Wilson Park, Bedford

I think the Liberty Cap on a Liberty Pole was a symbol that developed during the Federalist–Jeffersonian rivalry of the 1790s. Liberty Poles in the early 1770s featured variations on the British flag. But this is a beloved local commemoration.

Saturday, 15 April, 1:00 to 3:00 P.M.
A Visit with Paul Revere
Paul Revere House, Boston

Michael Lepage portray’s the house’s most famous owner welcoming visitors. Included in regular admission.

Sunday, 16 April, 2:00 to 3:30 P.M.
Lincoln Salute: Festival of 18th-Century Fife & Drum Music
Pierce Park, 17 Weston Road, Lincoln

The Lincoln Minute Men host the fife and drum groups who come for the next day’s parades in outdoor musical performances. Bring a picnic basket, blanket, and lawn chairs. (The picture above comes from a Lincoln Salute so many years ago this drummer is probably practicing law now.)

Monday, 17 April, all day
Lexington Patriots’ Day Events
Various sites around town

Events include Revere’s midnight arrival at the Hancock-Clarke House, the alarm from the belfry, the fight on Lexington common (starting at 5:30 A.M.), the regathering of the local company (8:30 A.M.), and battle demonstrations in Tower Park (4:00 P.M.). The historical society’s Buckman Tavern, Munroe Tavern, and Hancock-Clarke House will be open for tours, and the film “First Shot” will be shown at the Depot.

Monday, 17 April, 9:00 A.M. to noon
Patriots’ Day Parade in Boston
From City Hall Plaza to “The Prado” on Hanover Street

The description says, “After a flag-raising ceremony at City Hall, the parade stops at King’s Chapel Burying Ground to lay a wreath on the tomb of Major William Dawes [actually that’s the grave of his father; the rider’s remains are at Forest Hills], who was a member of the Ancient & Honorable Artillery Company of the Massachusetts Militia [this company wasn’t part of the official militia in 1775], and continues to Granary Burying Ground to lay a wreath at the grave of Paul Revere.”

Monday, 17 April, 9:00 A.M. to 1:00 P.M.
William Dawes’ Ride
From Eliot Square in Roxbury to Lexington Green

A mounted Royal Lancer portraying Dawes is expected to visit Brookline’s Devotion School about 10:00 A.M., Hill Memorial Church in Allston about 10:30 A.M., Cambridge about 11:00 A.M., and Arlington Town Hall around noon.

Wednesday, 19 April, 11:00 A.M. to 3:00 P.M.
Mix & Mingle with Rachel Revere
Paul Revere House, Boston

Judith Kalaora of History at Play portrays the silversmith’s second wife. Included in regular admission.

Thursday, 20 April, 1:00 to 3:00 P.M.
Patriot Fife & Drum
Paul Revere House, Boston

David Vose & Sue Walko play and discuss period music for everyone visiting the museum.

Tuesday, 25 April, 7:30 P.M.
A. Michael Ruderman on “The Battle of Menotomy”
Masonic Temple, 19 Academy Street, Arlington

The Arlington Historical Society’s provocative description says: “Battle Green was an accident. Concord Bridge, a skirmish. But in the most brutal and deadly warfare of April 19, 1775, nearly 6,000 combatants fought hand to hand and house to house, the length and breadth of Menotomy.”

The Patriots’ Day 2023 Season at Minute Man Park

The Patriots’ Day 2023 season starts this upcoming weekend, well before Patriots’ Day (17 April this year), much less the actual anniversary of the Battle of Lexington and Concord on 19 April.

The Friends of Minute Man Park has a good rundown of events planned in and around that national park, all of them free. Check the park’s own site for updates. Here are some highlights.

Saturday, 8 April, 11:00 A.M. to 2:00 P.M.
Meriam Open House
Nathan Meriam House, 24 Old Bedford Road, Concord
Parking is available at the Meriam’s Corner Lot at 751 Lexington Road in Concord.

Saturday, 8 April, 1:00 to 2:00 P.M.
Meriam’s Corner Exercise
Meriam’s Corner, 24 Old Bedford Road, Concord

Saturday, 8 April, 3:00 to 4:00 P.M.
Paul Revere Capture Ceremony
Paul Revere Capture Site, 180 North Great Road, Lincoln
Additional parking at the Minute Man Visitor Center at 210 North Great Road, Lincoln.

Saturday, 15 April, 9:30 to 11:45 A.M.
Hartwell Tavern and Smith Open House
North Great Road, Lincoln

If you had to leave your home in a hurry, uncertain of your return, what would you take with you? Learn about the locals who struggled to save their families and belongings from the path of war.

Saturday, 15 April, 11:15 to 11:45 A.M.
Trepidation, Fever and Rushing to Arms
Captain William Smith House, North Great Road, Lincoln

See alarm riders in action, militia marching to the scene of battle, and civilians preparing to leave home. The Ladies Association of Revolutionary America will tell the stories of the common people who experienced the horrors of war first-hand.

Saturday, 15 April, 12:45 P.M.
Battle Road Tactical Demonstration
Meet at the Minute Man Visitor Center, North Great Road, Lexington

Watch hundreds of British and Colonial Reenactors engage in a battle demonstration showing the running fight that took place along this deadly stretch of road on the border of Lincoln and Lexington.

Parking is available in the Hartwell Tavern and Minute Man Visitor Center parking lots. There’s about a mile and a half between those sites, so people planning to attend this whole series of events should be ready to walk twice that distance.

Saturday, 15 April, 2:30 to 3:30 P.M.
Explore the Elm Brook Hill (Bloody Angle) Battle Site
Meet at Hartwell Tavern, 136 North Great Road, Lincoln

Edmund Foster, a militiaman from Reading, Massachusetts (portrayed by park volunteer Ed Hurley), will lead a tour to this key battle site where he fought on 19 April 1775, joined by Lincoln historian and author Don Hafner.

Sunday, 16 April, 1:30 to 4:30 P.M.
The Search of the Barrett Farm
Colonel James Barrett House, 448 Barrett’s Mill Road, Concord

Talk with costumed park rangers and volunteers about colonial military preparations. Around 3:30 P.M. British soldiers will arrive to search the property, as they did in 1775.

Monday, 17 April, 8:30 A.M.
North Bridge Fight Commemoration
North Bridge, Monument Street, Concord

This dramatic battle demonstration involving colonial minute men, British regulars, and musket fire marks what R. W. Emerson dubbed the “shot heard ’round the world.” The roads in Concord close at 8:30 A.M.

Tuesday, 18 April, 7:45 P.M.
Patriot Vigil
Lantern light procession from the North Bridge Visitor Center, 174 Liberty Street, Concord, to the North Bridge

As darkness descends upon the North Bridge battlefield, reflect on the events of 1775 and the meaning of liberty. This ceremony will feature a lantern-light procession, poetry, music, and a recitation of the names of the men who gave their lives on that “ever-memorable” 19th of April.

To participate in the procession, leave weapons at home and bring your own enclosed candle lantern–real candles only, no flashlights or LED lights.

The Outcome of Harvard’s “Butter Rebellion”

As I wrote yesterday, the prevailing interpretation of Harvard College’s “butter rebellion” in the fall of 1766 is that the faculty quashed the protesting students.

Certainly the undergraduates did end their action on 11 October, nearly all of them signing the confession dictated by the faculty.

However, we shouldn’t lose sight of what the students had achieved already. First, the faculty inspected steward Jonathan Hastings’s supply of butter and rejected most of it. The tutors had already complained the President Edward Holyoke about the butter, but nobody made any changes. The protest got that very real problem fixed.

Second, the bulk of the student body had stood united from 24 September to 11 October—more than two weeks. They presented a strong defense for their actions, demonstrated unity and order, and commanded the attention of the college’s highest board. Despite all signing that confession, they received no punishment. There were just too many of them.

The students thus achieved a concrete benefit in exchange for a symbolic concession.

What about the individual scholars?

Asa Dunbar was the senior who started the controversy by complaining about the butter to his tutor and refusing the man’s order to sit down. His classmates feared he would be expelled. Instead, the faculty demoted him to the bottom of his class (which was still ranked by social standing rather than grades). Everyone knew that punishment could be reversed, and indeed that’s what the college administration did at the end of the school year.

Earlier I mentioned “a telling of the event that’s entirely in mock Biblical language.” That document refers to Dunbar as “Asa, the scribe,” and his private notebooks show he wrote similar pieces about other events in his life, so Harvard chronicler Clifford K. Shipton concluded he wrote the account. A person doesn’t normally compose and share long, satirical stories about events that embarrass them, so I don’t think Asa Dunbar felt much shame about his actions or punishment.

Thomas Hodgson moderated the first student meeting, which concluded with a mass threat to withdraw from college if Dunbar was expelled. He didn’t graduate with the class of 1767—but that was because in the spring he was caught with a “lewd Woman” in his room. He went home to North Carolina and died young.

Daniel Johnson, the senior who defied the faculty’s demands in long discussions on 26 September, suffered no immediate consequences from this protest at all. He was caught up in the “lewd Woman” infraction with Hodgson and demoted, but then restored to his place again.

After graduating, Dunbar was a minister in Bedford and Salem, and then an attorney in Keene, New Hampshire. One of his grandchildren was Henry David Thoreau, who created his own history of protest.

Johnson became the minister in the town of Harvard. He was a strong supporter of the Revolution, even joining his parishioners in marching toward Boston in April 1775. In the summer of 1777 he served as chaplain for a militia regiment guarding Boston harbor, apparently contracted an illness, and went home and died at the age of thirty.

As for younger Harvard students involved in the butter protest, one of the “College Committee” that signed the defense was Stephen Peabody. He learned his lessons so well that he was in the thick of an even bigger protest in 1768.

Because the administration hadn’t quashed student protest at all. 

“In all Respects behave as dutiful & obedient Pupils”

When the overseers of Harvard College met on 10 Oct 1766, they had four documents to consider:

• Prof. Samuel Wigglesworth’s description of the preceding month’s conflict over rancid butter, endorsed by college president Edward Holyoke and the faculty.
• “A Paper said to be found on the Chapel door,” which I don’t think has survived.
• The students’ defense of their united protest, signed by seven undergraduates as a “College Committee.”
• “A Confession signed by 43 Scholars.”

The last document was new, and suggested that the student body’s united front was cracking.

Addressing the president, professors, and tutors, those forty-three students stated:

As the Undergraduates of this College have been inform’d, That their late Transactions, have had a Tendency, to disturb the Peace & good Order of this Society; “We do therefore to testify our earnest Desire, to promote that Harmony wch. ought ever to subsist, and to remove any Suspicion, wch. may have arisen in the Breasts of our immediate Govern.”, freely acknowledge, That our Proceedings have been attended, wth. some irregularity; That we are sorry, if by any of our Actions, we have incurr’d the Displeasure of any of our Worthy Instructrs.; Wou’d have persu’d better & more lawful Methods, if we were sensible of Them; Are willing to pay all due Respect to the Authority over us, and if any future Grievance should arise, will seek for Redress according to the Directions of Law; And hope by the regularity of our Conduct, to reinstate ourselves in the Good Opinion of our Instructrs. & reflect Honour on this Society.

Six students signed that message as a committee for the rest. The signatories included Thomas Hodgson, who had moderated the student body’s first gathering, and three of the seven members of the earlier “College Committee.”

Back on 26 September, the faculty had told protest leader Daniel Johnson that the students could draft their own “Declaration of Grievances and the Reason of their Conduct.” But now the overseers deemed this admission from undergraduates as “their pretended Submission to the Governmt of the College.” They resolved that the students’ language wasn’t good enough.

The next morning, with the overseers present, President Holyoke addressed the student body at chapel. He read out a longer confession and demanded that all the boys sign it:

We the Subscribers being now made sensible, That some of our late Proceedings in Order to obtain Relief from a Grievance We labour’d under, were irregular & unconstitutional;

That our resolving to go out of the Chapel in a disorderly Manner, & to leave College in Case [Asa] Dunbar should be rusticated or expell’d, or if our Absence from Prayers was not excus’d by the Presdt when We should respectively answer Detentus a Nuntio paterno:

And that our entering into a written Ingagemt. to do the same, if any public Censure should be inflicted upon any Student, for his being concern’d in the late extraordinary Transactions; Were Violations of our Duty as Pupils, inconsistent wth the Peace & good Order of this Society & eventually tended to its Destruction;

And that our Offence, in entering into the abovesd. Resolutions is aggravated by the Obstinacy we discover’d in refusing to sign a Moderate acknowledgemt. of the same, & a Promise of future good Conduct, when invited thereunto by the Presdt. Profesrs & Tutrs., wth. a Promise that our Misconduct shou’d be overlook’d upon our Compliance:

Do hereby manifest our hearty Sorrow for every Thing Each of us severally have done, contrary to the good Order & Laws of the College, & humbly ask Pardon therefor of every Person to whom We have Given just Cause of Offence: promising that if We shall hereafter be under any Grievance or Difficulty, We will seek Redress in a regular constitutional Way, & That We will never enter into any agreemt. to oppose the good Governmt. of this Society, but on the contrary will alwaies discountenance, & to our utmost, endeavour to prevent, all disorderly unlawful Combinations, & in all Respects behave as dutiful & obedient Pupils.

Out of 172 undergraduates, 155 signed this document. The only exceptions were four students who had sat out the protests and thirteen were absent for some or all of the events.

“Those proceedings appear to have had the desired effect,” wrote Benjamin Peirce in his 1833 history of Harvard. A century later, Samuel Eliot Morison drew this conclusion in Three Centuries of Harvard: “It is clear that the Governing Boards would stand for almost any individual misconduct, but that a concerted effort must be vigorously suppressed lest the students suppose that ’in union there is strength.’”

In articles published in 1974 and 1981, Sheldon S. Cohen wrote about this outcome as a big win for the administration. “Student defiance almost immediately collapsed,” says one essay. But that comment applied only to the final confrontation in the chapel on 11 October.

I have a somewhat different interpretation.

TOMORROW: Consequences.

“The present uncomfortable state of the College”

Yesterday’s posting left the Harvard College community on 26 Sept 1766 roiled with controversy over butter.

Or rather, the undergraduates and faculty (at least the tutors, the younger ones who habitually dined with the undergraduates) were in agreement about the butter supplied by steward Jonathan Hastings. It was bad.

The controversy was over how far the students had gone to protest that situation. The faculty objected to the boys:

• complaining in the dining hall, possibly using the word “stinketh.”
• gathering in a large group to plan actions, or what the college laws called a “combination.”
• walking out of the dining hall en masse before being dismissed with prayer.

But, President Edward Holyoke said, he could be forgiving if the students just confessed their guilt.

Daniel Johnson, the senior who was one of the leaders of the protest, refused to do that. And almost the whole student body showed up at the president’s house to support Johnson.

During evening prayers on 26 September, Holyoke threw all his authority behind the demand that the undergraduates sign an acknowledgment of wrongdoing written by the faculty. As Johnson had predicted, the student body stood firm against doing that.

On 4 October, Holyoke and the tutors endorsed a report on the situation written by Prof. Samuel Wigglesworth. They sent that to the Harvard Corporation, which met three days later, alongside the Harvard Board of Trustees. The latter group included Gov. Francis Bernard, Lt. Gov. Thomas Hutchinson, provincial treasurer Harrison Gray, and several impressive clergymen.

Those gentlemen considered “the present uncomfortable state of the College” and came down firmly on the side of the administration. Both bodies said the students’ action was “irregular & disorderly in an high Degree” while the faculty response was “mild & gentle.” As for the students’ threat to withdraw as a mass protest, the boards resolved:

That if any Scholar shall leave the College in persuance of the Combinations enter’d into as afforesd. or shall go out of the Town of Cambridge wtḥout Leave, before ye Fall vacation which will begin on Wednesday the fifteenth Instant, every Scholar so offending shall be adjudged to have renounc’d his Relation to the College & shall not be again rec’d. into it, wtḥ out a Vote of the Presdt. Professrs. & Tutors.

The overseers agreed to act together (in what might otherwise be called a combination) by attending the chapel service when President Holyoke read all those resolutions. Surely that show of authority would cow the student body into agreeing “to sign a full & ample Confession of their Crimes.”

Instead, the students submitted a defense of their actions more than 1,500 words long. It was signed by seven undergraduates as a “College Committee”—four seniors plus one representative from each of the other classes. The first signatory was senior Thomas Bernard, son of the governor.

Incidentally, other prominent men who had sons at Harvard at this time included Lt. Gov. Hutchinson, colony secretary Andrew Oliver, new clerk of the legislature Samuel Adams, and Prof. John Winthrop. Even steward Hastings had a son in the college, though he was staying out of the protest.

The students’ defense repeated how their protest against the butter was the only way they could be heard, expressing gratitude that the faculty had finally done something about that shared problem. As for the charge of being “disorderly in an high Degree,” they emphasized their group discipline: in visiting President Holyoke, “we formed ourselves into regular Ranks, & marched in a Body to his House,” showing “remarkable good Order.” That quasi-military behavior was similar to the 5 Nov 1765 anti-Stamp Act march in Boston, and to the rural court closings of 1774.

The Board of Overseers gathered again on 10 October, with only five days left before the fall vacation.

TOMORROW: The opposition melts.

(The photo above shows steward Jonathan Hastings’s house, which stood near Harvard Yard in an area now used by the Harvard Law School. It became the headquarters of the provincial army in April 1775.)

“They shou’d have been obliged to have eat all the Bad Butter”

Harvard College picked up the rebellious spirit of the ’60s—the 1760s.

The unrest started with a protest against rancid butter in autumn 1766. According to one account, on 23 September student Asa Dunbar told the college’s senior fellow, Belcher Hancock, “Behold our butter stinketh and we cannot eat thereof!”

That quotation appears in a telling of the event that’s entirely in mock Biblical language, so I’m not convinced those were Dunbar’s actual words.

Whatever Dunbar said, the faculty deemed his behavior “a very great Misdemeanr. by an high act of Disobedience.” They demanded an apology and demoted him to the bottom of his class.

Predictably, instead of stopping the protests, that harsh punishment caused more discontent. Most of the undergraduates had a meeting that night. Then more bad butter was served the next morning. When more boys complained, their tutors replied by saying that morning’s butter was “pretty good—much better than they had frequently been served with.”

At that point, senior Daniel Johnson (1747–1777) stood up and started walking out of the dining hall, before the faculty read the prayer of thanks and dismissed the students. A second later, as they had agreed the night before, almost all the undergraduates stood and followed him. Only three upperclassmen and a few freshmen remained in the hall. Outside in the yard, the students huzzahed and fanned out into Cambridge to find breakfast.

The students didn’t know that the faculty had appointed a committee “to examine the Condition of the Stewards Butter & condemn what they tho’t not proper to be offerd to the Scholars.” Later that day, that committee rejected one barrel and six firkins of butter and deemed four firkins suitable “for Sauce only.” The tutors agreed that the butter was bad, and indeed they’d made their own complaints to college steward Jonathan Hastings.

The bigger problem, as far as the college administration was concerned, was that the undergraduates had not “presented a Petition to those in the im̄ediate Governmt. of the College, to have this Grievance redress’d.” Instead, their large meetings and collective actions constituted “a Breach of the Law relating to Combinations.”

That evening, after prayers, the long-tenured college president, the Rev. Samuel Holyoke (shown above), announced the butter committee’s findings. But he demanded that students confess they had broken college rules while promising that he might remit their punishment.

Prof. Samuel Wigglesworth summoned Daniel Johnson, a former tutee, and asked him to cooperate to avoid being rusticated (and presumably set an example for the rest of the student body). Johnson refused to sign any acknowledgement of guilt, insisting that the students had no other way of gaining redress.

On 26 September, more faculty members met with Johnson, asking him to sign, and get his classmates to sign, an admission “That some of our late Proceedings, in Order to procure Relief from a Grievance we have lain under, were irregular & unconstitutional.”

Johnson refused to sign any confession. Furthermore, he said most of the undergraduates would leave the college before signing any confession.

This wasn’t a confession, the faculty insisted; it was merely an expression of sorrow. Johnson said he had nothing to express sorrow about. He repeated that the students’ method of protest was the only way they could be heard. That response echoed what American Whigs were saying to the Crown.

The discussion continued to go round and round about proper procedure:

He was told, that the College Law prescrib’d, First an Application to the Presdt. & Tutrs., Then to the Corporation & Overseers.

He said, if they had proceeded in that Manner, they shou’d have been obliged to have eat all the Bad Butter before They cou’d have procur’d Redress.

Upon this he was told, That upon emergent Occasions [i.e., in emergencies] The Presdt. call’d a Meeting of the Corporation im̄ediately & that if Theyhad made a proper Application, There might probably have been a Meeting of the Corporation on ye next Day.

Having made that promise, the faculty asked Johnson to read their language to his fellow students. According to William C. Lane, the senior said he’d “be afraid to enter the College Yard should it be known that he had such a paper about him, for he should either have his limbs broke or be hissed out of the Yard.”

Increasingly desperate, the faculty invited Johnson and his fellow scholars to draft their own “Declaration of Grievances and the Reason of their Conduct” and sign that. And if anyone objected to signing that, he could speak personally to the college president.

Half an hour later, President Holyoke was about to leave his house to lead evening prayers. Almost the whole student body was on his doorstep asking to explain their objections to him.

TOMORROW: The controversy churns.

The Fourth Cousin Named Jonathan

Back in October, I wrote about “Three Cousins Named Jonathan.”

At the time, I was trying to sort out two of those cousins, both named Jonathan Williams, along with the father of one of them, John Williams, who was brother of an older Jonathan Williams.

In that research, the third cousin, Jonathan Williams Austin (1751–1779), kept getting in the way.

I now realize I actually understated the situation. Because on his father’s side Jonathan Williams Austin had another cousin named Jonathan Loring Austin (1747–1826).

Both Jonathan Williams Austin and Jonathan Loring Austin served in the Revolutionary War, rising to the rank of major.

Both Jonathan Williams Austin and Jonathan Loring Austin delivered official orations for the town of Boston, the first on 5 Mar 1778 and the second on 4 July 1786.

And to confuse things further, the Independence Day oration included this passage, which would have fit right into a Massacre remembrance:

WE, my fellow townsmen, can early date the aera of British slaughter, witness the 5th of March 1770—and though succeeding years have enlarged the field of melancholy contemplation, yet from this period we open the bloody scroll, and begin our tale of DEATH—yonder street can witness the sanguinary purposes of Britain; there, our brothers blood stained the foot-steps of the murdering soldier—there, our eyes were first pained with garments rolled in blood, and our ears pierced with the reiterated groans of dying citizens.

Fortunately, both of those cousins went through some interesting episodes, so now that you have them sorted out I can tell their stories over time. 

“Lanterns & Luminaries” at Old North, 20 Apr.

On Thursday, 20 April, Old North Illuminated will host its “Lanterns & Luminaries” event (formerly called the “Lantern Ceremony”) for 2023. This is a major fundraiser for the historic organization.

The evening will start at 6:30 P.M. with music by a colonial fife and drum corps. At 7:00, the seated program will begin.

After the traditional performance of H. W. Longfellow’s poem “Paul Revere’s Ride,” this year’s event will feature a keynote address by Harvard professor Annette Gordon-Reed, recipient of the organization’s Third Lantern Award.

Gordon-Reed is the author of six books, including Thomas Jefferson and Sally Hemings: An American Controversy and The Hemingses of Monticello: An American Family, winner of a Pulitzer Prize and a National Book Award. She has received the National Humanities Medal and a MacArthur Fellowship.

The formal program ends about 8:00, after which attendees can stay for the post-program reception, with food, drink, and musical entertainment, and the lighting of the lantern signals in the church spire.

Several years ago I gave a Patriots Day talk about Paul Revere’s April mission on the other side of the Charles River. As soon as the two lanterns appeared in the Old North steeple, I broke off. I knew I couldn’t compete. Everyone in the room could enjoy that iconic American sight (even if the original signal had almost no effect on what happened next).

Old North Illuminated, formerly called the Old North Foundation, is the secular nonprofit organization that works with the church to preserve and protect that 1723 landmark. It describes its mission as “working to inspire active citizenship and courageous, compassionate leadership by interpreting and preserving the Old North Church & Historic Site” and developing “educational programs that engage a wide range of audiences in the fundamental question of what it means to be informed and active in your community.”

For “Lanterns & Luminaries,” seats in the ground-level pews cost $200, and seats in gallery cost $75.

(Photo from 2016 above courtesy of North End Waterfront.)

More Findings about a Famous Portrait

Back in spring 2019 I reported on the new scholarly conclusion that the painting shown here, for decades said to be Gilbert Stuart’s portrait of George Washington’s chef Hercules:

• was not by Stuart,
• did not show Hercules Posey or any other eighteenth-century cook, and
• probably, given the hat, showed a man from Dominica.

I wrote then:

One detail which should have made people wonder, I think, is that this painting is at the Museo Nacional Thyssen-Bornemisza in Madrid. An odd place to find an American painting linked to an American President, wouldn’t you say?

Later that year Mount Vernon published a more detailed story on those findings by curator Jessie MacLeod, and here’s a webpage adapted from that article. It answers my question of how this painting came to a Spanish museum:

What we know of the portrait’s story begins in the early 19th century, when it was owned by English painter Sir Thomas Lawrence. Sometime before his death in 1830, Lawrence gave the painting to his childhood friend John Hulbert as a wedding gift. This history is recorded in an early 20th-century file in the Witt Library at the Courtauld Institute of Art in London. Here, an image of the portrait is filed under “Gilbert Stuart—Unidentified Sitters.”

In 1946, the portrait was purchased by Daisy Fellowes, an American socialite living in Paris. She displayed it in the dining room of her luxurious hôtel particulier, which was featured in a 1977 magazine. A caption identified the work as “Painting by Gilbert Stuart (an alleged portrait of the cook of George Washington).” The painting was purchased at auction in 1983 by Baron Thyssen-Bornemisza, who opened his namesake museum in 1992 (the Spanish government purchased the collection in 1993).

As for who really posed for the painting and who created it, the article states:

According to the Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza,…“If the Thyssen sitter is Dominican, he probably fled to England as part of the exodus of English planters just before the French claimed the island from the English in 1778.” . . .

Considering the man’s neckpiece and the cut of his coat, as well as the painting style, researchers can date the portrait to about 1780. . . .

The latest research released by the Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza asserts that, with the face and hat rendered in relatively broad brushstrokes, the portrait follows the general painting style of Sir Joshua Reynolds (1723-1792), the first president of the Royal Academy in London.

I don’t know the art-history world well enough to know if “general painting style” means the museum is really pointing at Reynolds, at his studio or circle, or simply at artists working when his style was fashionable. But the details are fitting together better.

“His folio military dictionary with plates”

The Boston Athenaeum has digitized its copy of A New Military Dictionary, or, The Field of War: Containing a Particular and Circumstantial Account of the Most Remarkable Battles, Sieges, Bombardments, and Expeditions, Whether by Sea or Land. Such as Relate to Great Britain and Her Dependencies, Deduced from the Descent of Julius Caesar to the Present Time.

This edition appeared in London in 1760. The anonymous author was the journalist John Almon, ten years before he challenged the British government by printing the “Junius” letters, proceedings of the House of Commons, and the Remembrancer compendium of the year’s news.

The title of that book promises lots of stories, but there’s also a story hidden on the title page.

At the top right is the note “David M[torn] / His Book.”

Below that in a different, larger hand is the initial “K.” As the Athenaeum catalogue says, that indicates this book came from the library of Henry Knox.

Knox became the commander of the Continental artillery in late 1775, installed over the heads of all the regiment’s existing officers. Here’s a memory from Susan Smith, daughter of David Mason, who had started the war as third-in-command of that regiment:

As an instance of his good will to Knox, he lent him his folio military dictionary with plates, by Chambers, which he had some time before sent to London for and for which I think I have heard him say he paid ten guineas [£10.10s.]. This valuable book he kept through the war, and to this day, although my father frequently requested him to return it to him, but he always said he could not get along without it and another could not then be procured in the country.

That passage appeared in Smith’s profile of her father published in the Essex Institute Historical Collections.

“Paid my Respects to Generall Washington”

By Saturday, 24 March, the merchant John Rowe was so used to dining at home that in his diary he started off describing dinner there before remembering he’d dined with a friend and relative, shown here courtesy of the Boston Athenaeum:

I din’d at home with at Mr. [Ralph] Inman’s with him Mrs. [Elizabeth] Inman Genl. [Nathanael] Green Mrs. [Catherine] Green Tuthill Hubbard Mrs. [Dorothy] Forbes, Mr. [John?] Lowell Mrs. Rowe Capt. Gilbt. Speakman & Doctr. [blank] & Spent the Evening at home with Mrs. Rowe Capt. Speakman & Jack Rowe

Some Fire below Nantasket Road—I take it to be a Transport set on Fire to destroy her

Tuthill Hubbard was another Boston merchant, not very active politically. He would become the town’s postmaster.

If another of Inman’s guests was John Lowell (the surname isn’t clear in the manuscript), Rowe might have spoken to him about recovering the value of the goods the British military confiscated on their departure. Later in the year, Lowell would represent Rowe and other merchants in that effort.

The next day was a Sunday:

afternoon I went to Church Mr. [Samuel] Parker Read prayers & preached from the 22d. Chapter of St. Mathew . . . This was a very Good Sermon & considering the distressing Time A Good many People At Church. . . .

A Transport was burnt Last night in the Lighthouse Channell

The British evacuation fleet was still hovering in the outer harbor as 25 March dawned, and Rowe tracked its movement on Monday:

The Fleet still in Nantasket Road—

A Great many of the Ships in Nantasket Sailed this Afternoon

278 Dollars continintall

There’s no indication what that last line referred to, but Rowe was getting used to a new currency.

On Tuesday, 26 March, John Rowe completed the task of cozying up to the new power structure to protect his commercial interests:

Snowd a Little to Night— . . .

I waited on Genl. Greene this morning with Mr. Baker abo. Some Iron on my Wharff.

I din’d at home with Capt. Timothy Folger The Revd. Mr. [Samuel] Parker Mr. [Jonathan] Warner Mr. Richd. Greene Mrs. Rowe & Jack Rowe—

after dinner I went with Mr. Parker & paid my Respects to Generall [George] Washington who Receivd us Very Politely.

I’ll leave Rowe there for the nonce, having successfully trimmed his sails in March 1776.