People's War: Original Voices Of The American Revolution - Hardcover

Rae, Noel

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 0762770708 ISBN 13: 9780762770700

Publisher: Lyons Press, 2011

Synopsis

This is the story of one of history's great events, the Revolutionary War, told almost entirely in the words of the soldiers and sailors who fought it and the civilians who endured it. Drawing on thousands of original sources---diaries, letters, memoirs, newspapers, pension applications---the author has culled the most colorful and vivid passages and then woven them into a vibrant, eye-witness narrative that takes the reader from the peaceful days before the Stamp Act, through all the major events of the war, and ends with farewell accounts of what happened in later life to the people we have come to know along the way. Some of these, like Franklin, Washington, Adams and George III, are familiar figures, but most were ordinary people, little known to history, but here briefly emerging from obscurity to tell of what they did in those exciting and important times: a farm boy who ran away to sea at the age of twelve, a New England shoemaker who kept volunteering for further service to the dismay of his wife who wanted him home, a professor of divinity at Yale who took up his musket when the British raided New Haven, a pretty young widow who was roughed up when her plantation was raided by Tory ruffians and a cross-eyed termagant who gunned two such villains when they invaded her log-cabin, a German student of poetry dragooned into a Hessian regiment, a Quaker housewife trying to hold things together in British-occupied Philadelphia, an Indian warrior who seems to have relished his part in the Cherry Valley Massacre, a slave who escaped to the British after witnessing his mother being flogged, an aristocratic French officer enamored with the cause of liberty, a genial Englishman shocked at the baseness of the rebels---these are but a few of the people whose collective voices, drawn from all sides of the conflict, bring the Revolution to life in a way that is as unique as it is entertaining. It is also history at its most authoritative, for who better qualified to tell what happened than the people who were there?

About this title

About the Author

Noel Rae graduated with honors in history from Oxford University. He is the author of Witnessing America: the Library of Congress Book of Firsthand Accounts of Life in America 1600–1900, which was #1 on the Washington Post’s political bestseller list. 

From the Back Cover

The outcome was one of history’s great, surprising events, David slaying Goliath. At the beginning of the war, which cast the world’s most powerful nation against a shaky collection of its wildly independent colonies, no such outcome was conceivable. But as the upstarts slowly welded themselves into an effective force, step by step the Americans whipped the mighty British to found the world’s most enduring democracy.

See the war through the frank and vivid diaries and letters, reflective memoirs, lurid and sensational newspaper accounts, and sober official documents of the American Revolution. Hear the voices of the farmers and merchants, tradesmen and housewives, who joined with the generals and the country’s new leaders to wage The People’s War.

From the Inside Flap

The outcome was one of history’s great, surprising events, David slaying Goliath. At the beginning of the war, which cast the world’s most powerful nation against a shaky collection of its wildly independent colonies, no such outcome was conceivable. But as the upstarts slowly welded themselves into an effective force, step by step the Americans whipped the mighty British to found the world’s most enduring democracy.

See the war through the frank and vivid diaries and letters, reflective memoirs, lurid and sensational newspaper accounts, and sober official documents of the American Revolution. Hear the voices of the farmers and merchants, tradesmen and housewives, who joined with the generals and the country’s new leaders to wage The People’s War.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

The first shots of the war

There is no definitive account of exactly what happened soon after dawn on the green at Lexington, but, keenly aware of the importance of public opinion at home and in Great Britain, the Massachusetts Provincial Council immediately afterward appointed a committee, chaired by Dr. Benjamin Church, which in a short while produced A Narrative of the Excursion & Ravages of the King’s Troops, which began:

“On the nineteenth day of April, one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five, a day to be remembered by all Americans of the present generation, and which ought, and doubtless will, be handed down to ages yet unborn, the troops of Britain, unprovoked, shed the blood of sundry of the loyal American subjects of the British king in the field of Lexington…” It was acknowledged that some of these men were armed (as they should have been, since they were all militiamen who had been called out several hours earlier by Captain John Parker on news of the British approach), but

this small party of the inhabitants were so far from being disposed to commit hostilities against the troops of their sovereign that, unless attacked, they were determined to be peaceable spectators of this extraordinary movement. Immediately on the approach of Colonel Smith with the detachment under his command they dispersed; but the detachment, seeming to thirst for blood, wantonly rushed on, and first began the hostile scene by firing on this small party, by which they killed eight men on the spot and wounded several others before any guns were fired upon the troops by our men. Not contented with this effusion of blood, as if malice had occupied their whole souls, they continued the fire, until all of this small party who escaped the dismal carnage were out of the reach of their fire. Colonel Smith, with the detachment, then proceeded to Concord, where a party of this detachment again made the first fire upon some of the inhabitants…

 

The Excursion & Ravages was substantiated by numerous sworn depositions. Elijah Sanderson, for example, did “testify and declare” that as the redcoats approached “I heard one of the regulars, whom I took to be an officer, say, ‘Damn them—we will have them!’ and immediately the regulars shouted aloud, run and fired on the Lexington company, which did not fire a gun before the regulars discharged on them…” Another witness: “I, John Robbins, being of lawful age, do testify and say, that on the nineteenth instant, the company under the command of Captain John Parker, being drawn up some time before sunrise, on the green or common, and I being in the front rank, there suddenly appeared a number of the king’s troops, about a thousand as I thought, at the distance of about sixty or seventy yards from us, huzzaing, and on a quick pace towards us, with three officers in their front on horseback, and on full gallop towards us; the foremost of which cried, ‘Throw down your arms, ye villains! Ye rebels!’ Upon which, said company dispersing, the foremost of the three officers ordered their men saying, ‘Fire! By God, fire!” at which moment we received a very heavy and close fire from them; at which instant, being wounded, I fell, and several of our men were shot dead by me. Capt. Parker’s men, I believe, had not then fired a gun.”

David Welch, aged seventeen, serves as a ranger in the woods of Vermont

It fell to my lot to be placed the most westerly man of our party as we marched northward. In this way of marching, about the middle of the day, I had, as I afterwards found, become separated upward of half a mile from my companions, when I discovered through a thicket of hemlock brush the appearance of a smoke evidently indicating the fact of there being a fire. We were then in a wilderness some fifteen miles beyond our then most frontier garrisons. Immediately on making this discovery, I crept with the utmost caution toward the spot from whence the smoke rose. Presently I saw through the bush two Indians sitting by a smoke that appeared to have been kindled to keep off the mosquitoes. I instantly laid myself flat down, keeping my eye upon the spot to see if there were more than the two. In a few moments I became impressed with the belief that there were but the two. I was not more than eight rods [about forty-five yards] distant from them.

After much hesitation as to what might be most proper, I finally came to the conclusion that my companions were proceeding on and might perhaps soon be surprised, as there might be more Indians within a short distance. I drew my gun, and whilst lying thus flat on the ground, I took deliberate aim at one of the Indians and shot him dead. The other Indian instantly sprung upon his feet, seizing his gun, and started to run. Without reflecting upon the consequence, I immediately run after him, having my gun unloaded. The Indian made but a few leaps after I started before he turned and fired upon me, but his fire missed as I supposed by several feet. He then dropped his gun and came at me with his tomahawk. I encountered him with my empty gun. The first blow which he aimed with his tomahawk I warded off with my gun, and in doing it I was so fortunate as to hook the deadly weapon from him. It fell upon the ground rather behind me. I was then encouraged and sprung to get the tomahawk, in which effort I succeeded. Whilst I was yet bent in picking up the tomahawk, the Indian, who had drawn his knife, gave me a cut, giving me a deep but short wound upon my right leg a little above my knee. He then aimed a second stroke at me with the same weapon. This blow I warded off with my left hand, in doing which I received a wound between the thumb and the forefinger. About the same instant, with the tomahawk I hit him a blow on the head which brought him to the ground, and with another blow after he had fallen I made sure he was beyond doing me any further harm.

I immediately secured the guns of the two dead Indians and had the three, including my own, ready charged before my companions, who had heard the fire, came up. The corporal, after seeing what was done, ordered our immediate retreat, which we did toward Rutland Fort, where we arrived the next day some time in the afternoon, bringing with us the guns of the two dead Indians and their tomahawks and knives.

A southern belle has some unwelcome visitors

Rebecca Motte, Eliza Wilkinson… was a widow, but young and pretty and not, it seems, greatly bereaved—in the words of Elizabeth Ellet, editor of The Women of the American Revolution, she was “beautiful, with fascinating manners, quick at repartee, and full of cheerfulness and good humor.” Her house on Yonge’s Island, thirty miles south of Charleston, was separated from the mainland by a small creek and approached from the road by a long avenue hedged on either side with rose bushes. There was a gate where the avenue met the road.

Eliza, who told her story in a series of letters written in a “clear and feminine” hand, had at first refused to believe “the terrible accounts of the actions of the British troops at the northward; but (fool that I was) I thought they must be exaggerated, for I could not believe that a nation so famed for humanity, and many other virtues, should, in so short a time, divest themselves of even the least trace of what they once were.”

Unfortunately for her, Yonge’s Island was often the scene of military activity. In the spring of 1780, “upwards of sixty dreaded red-coats passed our gate…A Negro wench was their informer, and also their conductor,” but they did not actually come up to the house. Not long afterward they were visited by the local militia and Patriot irregulars, responding to news that “the Negroes were very unruly, and doing great mischief; so they rode from plantation to plantation, in order to quell them in time.” Next came the Tory irregulars.

Well, now comes the day of terror—the 3d of June. (I shall never love the anniversary of that day.) In the morning, fifteen or sixteen horsemen rode up to the house; we were greatly terrified, thinking them the enemy, but from their behavior were agreeably deceived, and found them friends. They sat a while on their horses, talking to us; and then rode off, except two, who tarried a minute or two longer, and then followed the rest, who had nearly reached the gate. One of the said two must needs jump a ditch—to show his activity, I suppose; for he might as well, and better, have gone in the road. However, he got a sad fall; we saw him, and sent a boy to tell him, if he was hurt, to come up to the house and we would endeavor to do something for him. He and his companion accordingly came up; he look’d very pale, and bled much; his gun somehow in the fall had given him a bad wound behind the ear, from whence the blood flowed down his neck and bosom plentifully; we were greatly alarmed on seeing him in this situation, and had gathered round him, some with one thing, some with another, in order to give him assistance. We were very busy examining the wound when a Negro girl ran in, exclaiming, “Oh! The king’s people are coming! It must be them, for they are all in red!” Upon this cry, the two men that were with us snatched up their guns, mounted their horses, and made off; but had not got many yards from the house before the enemy discharged a pistol at them. Terrified almost to death as I was, I was still anxious for my friends’ safety; I tremblingly flew to the window to see if the shot had proved fatal; when, seeing them both safe, “Thank heaven,” said I, “they’ve got off without hurt!”

I’d hardly utter’d this when I heard the horses of the inhuman Britons coming in such a furious manner that they seemed to tear up the earth, and the riders at the same time bellowing out the most horrid curses imaginable—oaths and imprecations that chilled my whole frame. Surely, thought I, such horrid language denotes nothing less than death! But I’d no time for thought—they were up to the house—entered with drawn swords and pistols in their hands; indeed, they rushed in, in the most furious manner, crying out, “Where’re these women rebels?” (Pretty language to ladies from the once famed Britons!) That was the first salutation. The moment they spied us, off went our caps…And for what, think you? Why, only to get a paltry stone and wax pin, which kept them on our heads; at the same time uttering the most abusive language imaginable, and making as if they’d hew us to pieces with their swords. But it’s not in my power to describe the scene; it was terrible to the last degree; and, what augmented it, they had several armed Negroes with them, who threatened and abused us greatly. They then began to plunder the house of every thing they thought valuable or worth taking; our trunks were split to pieces, and each mean, pitiful wretch crammed his bosom with the contents, which were our apparel, &c. &c. &c.

I ventured to speak to the inhuman monster who had my clothes. I represented to him the times were such we could not replace what they’d taken from us, and begged him to spare me only a suit or two; but I got nothing but a hearty curse for my pains; nay, so far was his callous heart from relenting that, casting his eyes towards my shoes, “I want them buckles,” said he, and immediately knelt at my feet to take them out; which, while he was busy about, a brother villain, whose enormous mouth extended from ear to ear, bawled out, “Shares there, I say! Shares!” So they divided my buckles between them.

The other wretches were employed in the same manner; they took my sister’s ear-rings from her ears; hers, and Miss Samuells’s buckles; they demanded her ring from her finger; she pleaded for it, told them it was her wedding ring, and begged they’d let her keep it; but they still demanded it, and, presenting a pistol at her, swore if she did not deliver it immediately, they’d fire. She gave it to them and, after bundling up all their booty, they mounted their horses. But such despicable figures! Each wretch’s bosom stuffed so full they appeared to be all afflicted with some dropsical disorder. Had a party of rebels (as they called us) appeared, we should soon have seen their circumference lessen.

They took care to tell us, when they were going away, that they had favored us a great deal—that we might thank our stars it was no worse. But I had forgot to tell you that, upon their first entering the house, one of them gave my arm such a violent grasp that he left the print of his thumb and three fingers in black and blue, which was to be seen very plainly for several days after... To be brief: after a few words more, they rode off, and glad was I. “Good riddance of bad rubbish,” and indeed such rubbish was I never in company with before. One of them was an officer too! —a sergeant or some such, for he had the badge of honor on his shoulders! After they were gone I began to be sensible of the danger I’d been in, and the thoughts of the vile men seemed worse (if possible) than their presence; for they came so suddenly up to the house that I’d no time for thought; and while they stayed I seemed in amaze! Quite stupid! I cannot describe it. But when they were gone, and I had time to consider, I trembled so with terror that I could not support myself. I went into the room, threw myself on the bed, and gave way to a violent burst of grief, which seemed to be some relief to my full-swollen heart.

 

Having fired the first shot of the Seven Years’ War, in the Jumonville Affair of 1754, it was but fitting that Washington should round things out by firing the first shot of the bombardment that officially opened the last battle of the Revolutionary War. Dr. James Thacher was present at the occasion:

 

October 8th and 9th. Two or three of our batteries being now prepared to open on the town, his Excellency General Washington put the match to the first gun, and a furious discharge of cannon and mortars immediately followed…From the 10th to the 15th, a tremendous and incessant firing from the American and French batteries is kept up, and the enemy return the fire, but with little effect. A red-hot shell from the French battery set fire to the Charon, a British 44-gun ship, and two or three smaller vessels at anchor in the river, which were consumed in the night. From the bank of the river, I had a fine view of this splendid conflagration. The ships were enwrapped in a torrent of fire, which spreading with vivid brightness among the combustible rigging, and running with amazing rapidity to the tops of the several masts, while all around was thunder and lightning from our numerous cannon and mortars, and in the darkness of night, presented one of the most sublime and magnificent spectacles which can be imagined. Some of our shells, overreaching the town, are seen to fall into the river, and bursting, throw up columns of water like the spouting of the monsters of the deep. We have now made further approaches to the town by throwing up a second parallel line, and batteries within about three hundred yards.…

Being in the trenches every other night and day, I have a fine opportunity of witnessing the sublime and stupendous scene which is continually exhibiting. The bomb-shells from the besiegers and the besieged are incessantly crossing each others’ path in the air. They are clearly visible in the form of a black ball during the day, but in the night they appear like fiery meteors with blazing tails, most beautifully brilliant, ascending majestically from the mortar to a certain altitude, and gradually descending to the spot where they are destined to execute their work of destruction. It is astonishing with what accuracy an experienced gunner will make his calculations, that a shell shall fall within a few feet of a given point, and burst at the precise time, though at a great distance. When a shell falls, it whirls round, burrows, and excavates the earth to a considerable extent, and bursting, makes dreadful havoc around. I have more than once witnessed fragments of the mangled bodies and limbs of the British soldiers thrown into the air by the bursting of our shells; and by one from the enemy, Captain White, of the Seventh Massachusetts Regiment, and one soldier, were killed, and another wounded near where I was standing. About twelve or fourteen men have been killed or wounded within twenty-four hours; I attended at the hospital, amputated a man’s arm, and assisted in dressing a number of wounds

 

 

Edition details

• Publisher: Lyons Press
• Publication date: 2011
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 0762770708
• ISBN 13: 9780762770700
• Binding: Hardcover
• Edition number: 1
• Number of pages: 624