Washington’s Quill Blog

“The ablest of all our diplomatic Corps”: George Washington and John Quincy Adams

By Katie Blizzard, Communications Specialist
October 20, 2017

In 1789, while touring New England, George Washington stopped in Newburyport, Massachusetts. There, he met a bright young law student who would soon play a larger role both in Washington’s life and in the public arena: John Quincy Adams.

John Quincy Adams, the son of vice president John Adams, had long admired Washington. To the younger Adams’s delight, the citizens of Newburyport asked him to draft an address welcoming Washington to the small town. The result was poetic, expressing “sentiments of joy, resulting from principals perhaps less elevated but equally dear to their hearts; from the gratification of their affection in beholding personally among them, the friend, the benefactor, the father of his Country.” Over the course of Washington’s visit, Adams “had the honour” of interacting with the president several more times. The pair dined together within the same group twice, and Adams happily pointed out in a letter to his mother, Abigail Adams, that Washington had even remembered seeing him in New York.1

Image courtesy of the New York Public Library.

Their paths crossed again in 1793, when the younger man began publishing political essays. Under the pseudonym “Marcellus,” Adams argued that the nation should remain neutral in the current war between Britain and France. As “Columbus,” Adams warned about the danger of foreign intrigue. And under the name “Barneveldt,” he suggested that some executive powers, though not made explicit in the Constitution, are nevertheless important to the nation’s survival.2

According to historian Samuel Flagg Bemis, these essays not only captured Washington’s attention but also informed his Farewell Address.3 While it is difficult to define conclusively the influences behind the Farewell Address, both men supported neutrality and a strong federal government. So intrigued by an individual who echoed his own beliefs, Washington purportedly sought to uncover the identity of the essays’ author.4 If Washington did connect John Quincy Adams with his essays, that discovery may have played a role in his subsequent interest in the young man as a public servant. On May 29, 1794, a year after the political writings had been published, Washington nominated Adams to be U.S. minister to the Netherlands.5

Though the nomination surprised Adams, he did not think the nomination was a result of preferential treatment: “From the principles of the same nature which my father has always rigidly observed, I knew that no influence, nor even a request of any kind from him could have occasioned this intention of the President.”6 John Adams gleefully confirmed this was the case in his second letter to his son on the subject:

This Nomination, which is the Result of the Presidents own Observations and Reflections, is as politick, as it is unexpected. It will be a Proof that Sound Principles in Morals and Government, are cherished by the Executive of the United States and that Study, Science and Literature are recommendations which will not be overlook’d.7

Though John Quincy Adams had not intended to “solicit for any public office whatever,” he accepted the appointment.8 It should be noted that along with his agreement with the president on diplomatic issues, his fluency in both French and Dutch equipped him well for the position.

When Adams arrived in the Netherlands in December, the scene was not at all what he had expected. The country had been invaded by the French, resulting in the disruption of diplomatic business as well as mail service.9 Cut off from American news and unable to perform his duties beyond maintaining U.S. neutrality, Adams quickly became bored and frustrated. In letters to his father, he described his unhappiness.10 Worried that his son might abandon his post, John Adams wrote to George Washington, who responded with encouragement:

Mr J. Adams, your son, must not think of retiring from the walk he is now in: his prospects, if he continues in it, are fair: and I shall be much mistaken if, in as short a period as can well be expected, he is not found at the head of the Diplomatique Corps; let the government be administered by whomsoever the people may chuse.

The embarrassment into which he was thrown, by the unforeseen events which so soon took place in Holland, after he had received his first instructions, & had arrived in that country, have long since been removed; and he can be at no loss now, as to the course he is to pursue.11

Washington’s advice, to which the vice president would later allude in a letter to his son, presumably worked; John Quincy Adams remained a public servant for the remainder of Washington’s term in office.12 When John Adams was elected president, Washington wrote to him to underscore his continued confidence in John Quincy Adams:

[I]f my wishes would be of any avail, they shd go to you in a strong hope, that you will not withhold merited promotion from Mr Jno. Adams because he is your son. For without intending to compliment the father or the mother, or to censure any others, I give it as my decided opinion, that Mr Adams is the most valuable public character we have abroad; and that there remains no doubt in my mind that he will prove himself to be the ablest, of all our diplomatic Corps.13

 

Notes

  1. “John Quincy Adams to Abigail Adams, 5 December 1789,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified June 29, 2017, http://founders.archives.gov/documents/Adams/04-08-02-0244. Also available in print: The Adams Papers, Adams Family Correspondence, vol. 8, pp. 444–447.
  2. For a brief discussion of Adams’s 1793 writings, see Samuel Flagg Bemis, John Quincy Adams and the Foundation of American Policy (New York: 1949), 36–38.
  3. Ibid.
  4. William H. Seward, Life and Public Services of John Quincy Adams, Sixth President of the United States (Auburn: 1849), 53.
  5. “From George Washington to the United States Senate, 29 May 1794,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified June 29, 2017, http://founders.archives.gov/documents/Washington/05-16-02-0132. Also available in print: The Papers of George Washington, Presidential Series, vol. 16, pp. 156–57.
  6. “[Diary entry: June 3, 1794]” in David Waldstreicher, ed., John Quincy Adams, Diaries 1779-1821 (New York: 2017), 43.
  7. “John Adams to John Quincy Adams, 29 May 1794,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified June 29, 2017, http://founders.archives.gov/documents/Adams/04-10-02-0123. Also available in print: The Adams Papers, Adams Family Correspondence, vol. 10, pp. 197–99.
  8. “[Diary entry: June 3, 1794]” in David Waldstreicher, ed., John Quincy Adams, Diaries, 43.
  9. Paul C. Nagel, John Quincy Adams: A Public Life, a Private Life (New York: 1997), 83–84.
  10. “To John Adams from John Quincy Adams, 4 May 1795,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified June 29, 2017, http://founders.archives.gov/documents/Adams/99-02-02-1667. Nota Bene: This is an Early Access documentfrom The Adams Papers. It is not an authoritative final version.
  11. “From George Washington to John Adams, 20 August 1795,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified June 29, 2017, http://founders.archives.gov/documents/Washington/05-18-02-0369. Also available in print: The Papers of George Washington, Presidential Series, vol. 18, pp. 565–66.
  12. “John Adams to John Quincy Adams, 25 August 1795,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified June 29, 2017, http://founders.archives.gov/documents/Adams/04-11-02-0009. Also available in print: The Adams Papers, Adams Family Correspondence, 11, pp. 20–22.]
  13. “From George Washington to John Adams, 20 February 1797,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified June 29, 2017, http://founders.archives.gov/documents/Washington/99-01-02-00316. Nota Bene: This is an Early Access document from The Papers of George Washington. It is not an authoritative final version.

“To enchain syllables, and to lash the wind”: An Introduction to Style Guides

By Jane Haxby, Copy Editor
October 13, 2017

The first ever Washington Papers style guide. Image provided by author.

When I tell people that I am a copy editor at The Washington Papers, most are horrified: “You edit George Washington?!” When I explain that The Washington Papers is a documentary editing project, they are even more confused: “You make movies?”

Eventually, I get around to describing what I really do. Copyediting is what I imagine most people think of as editing: correcting grammar, syntax, and spelling; clarifying meaning; and checking for consistency of style and formatting. I do not, I promise, change Washington’s words. Our volume editors carefully and accurately transcribe his letters and documents (hence, “documentary editing”) and then annotate them, researching and explaining all references to people, places, and events so that readers can understand what Washington and his correspondents wrote. It is primarily this annotation that I copyedit.

When I arrived at The Washington Papers, my first task was to read through our in-house style guide. Readers may be familiar with the Chicago Manual of Style, or with MLA or AP style. These guides independently address a plethora of questions ranging from how to hyphenate and capitalize, to the correct use of pronouns (yes, Chicago now sanctions the singular “they”1), to how to cite virtually any source imaginable. Many of us were taught that there is only one right way to do these things. I remember learning in grade school that in a list of three or more items, I should not separate the last two with a comma, and that when typing, I should follow every period with two spaces. The latter rule is a relic of the typewriter age and has been superseded, one of many examples of how written (not to mention spoken) language evolves. The former is still followed by some style guides but not by others,2 indicating that language rules are not universal even at any one moment. This is why The Washington Papers has a style guide.

In the few years I have been with The Washington Papers, we have added to our in-house style guide multiple rules that reflect recent discussions specific to our project. One of the challenges and joys of working on a multivolume documentary editing project is that each volume is part of a much larger edition. Once a style decision is made, we include the new rule in our style guide so that volume editors can apply it moving forward. This week, I am fixing what has been a somewhat haphazard approach to historic college names in past volumes—for example, Columbia University was “King’s College” until 1784, when it was renamed “Columbia College.” The fact that we haven’t been consistent in how we refer to this and similar institutions, even on a long-term project with careful scholars, simply shows the slipperiness of language. The question is not merely one of following rules, but of making the rules in order to follow them in the future.

Style guides, as we know them today, began about a century ago. The first Chicago Manual of Style was published in 1906, the same year as Henry Watson Fowler’s The King’s English. Only 20 years later came Fowler’s Dictionary of Modern English Usage, which, now in its fourth edition, is still a mainstay of writers and publishers.3 These style guides, of course, build on even earlier publications. The author of a 16th-century proto-dictionary introduced his work as an “elementarie which entreateth chefelie of the right writing of our English tung.”4 In 1755, more than a century before the first edition of the Oxford English Dictionary, Samuel Johnson published his Dictionary of the English Language. His preface reminds us of the mutability of language even while it introduces his attempt to impose stability on it:

Those who have been persuaded to think well of my design, require that it should fix our language, and put a stop to those alterations which time and chance have hitherto been suffered to make in it without opposition. With this consequence I will confess that I flattered myself for a while; but now begin to fear that I have indulged expectation which neither reason nor experience can justify. When we see men grow old and die at a certain time one after another, from century to century, we laugh at the elixir that promises to prolong life to a thousand years; and with equal justice may the lexicographer be derided, who being able to produce no example of a nation that has preserved their words and phrases from mutability, shall imagine that his dictionary can embalm his language, and secure it from corruption and decay, that it is in his power to change sublunary nature, or clear the world at once from folly, vanity, and affectation.

With this hope, however, academies have been instituted, to guard the avenues of their languages, to retain fugitives, and repulse intruders; but their vigilance and activity have hitherto been vain; sounds are too volatile and subtile for legal restraints; to enchain syllables, and to lash the wind, are equally the undertakings of pride, unwilling to measure its desires by its strength.5

Sadly, neither Johnson’s dictionary nor any style guide can clear the world of folly. But our in-house style guide does serve the larger purpose of documentary editing–conservation–which Johnson is simultaneously celebrating and lamenting the impossibility of here. We publish Washington’s papers to preserve his words and wisdom for any and all to read and use. Our in-house rules, as pedantic as they may sometimes appear, help stabilize our approach, making those words and their annotation as consistent and comprehensible as we “sublunary”6 mortals can make them.

 

Notes

  1. For a discussion of Chicago‘s recommended uses of “they” as a generic singular pronoun, see “CMOS Stop Talk” for April 3, 2017: http://cmosshoptalk.com/2017/04/03/chicago-style-for-the-singular-they/
  2. The absence of this comma can have real-world effects, as a Maine dairy company learned in March 2017. See Daniel Victor, “Lack of Oxford Comma Could Cost Maine Company Millions in Overtime Dispute,” New York Times for March 16, 2017, at https://www.nytimes.com/2017/03/16/us/oxford-comma-lawsuit.html?_r=0.
  3. For this edition, see http://www.oxfordreference.com/view/10.1093/acref/9780199661350.001.0001/acref-9780199661350; for an entertaining review, see Jim Holt, “H. W. Fowler, the King of English,” New York Times Book Review for Dec. 10, 2009, at http://www.nytimes.com/2009/12/13/books/review/Holt-t.html. For the full 1908 edition, see http://www.bartleby.com/116/101.html.
  4. For the British Library note and images, see http://www.bl.uk/learning/timeline/item126632.html.
  5. For the British Library note and images, see http://www.bl.uk/learning/timeline/item126707.html. For a transcription of the full preface by Jack Lynch of Rutgers University, see https://andromeda.rutgers.edu/~jlynch/Texts/preface.html.
  6. “Sublunary” literally means “beneath the moon,” or earthly. Johnson used it to connote impermanence, as in the third OED definition, “Characteristic of this world and its concerns; mundane; material; temporal, ephemeral.” The corresponding 1609 example following this OED entry illustrates it even better: “No pompe (how euer glorious) No ioy or pleasure, if sublunarie, But brings sacietie soone with their vse.”

 

When the Patriots Went to War at Sea

by Dana Stefanelli, Assistant Editor
October 11, 2017

The 18th-century British navy ruled the waves, and George Washington’s Continental forces could not have hoped to win the Revolutionary War against such a power without the help of the French navy. Overshadowed in this narrative are Continental efforts to develop a fleet.

In April 1778, Continental Navy sloop of war Ranger captured British HMS Drake off the coast of Ireland. Image painted by Arthur N. Disney. Courtesy of Naval History and Heritage Command (NH 81541-KN).

A nominal Continental navy was formed in 1775, but privateers sympathetic to the Revolutionary cause proved more effective. Financed by private citizens and authorized by various states, these vessels preyed on vulnerable British ships and distracted imperial officials. The celebrated victory of John Paul Jones in the Bonhomme Richard over the Serapis on Sept. 23, 1779, boosted Continental navy credibility and public morale. Certainly with undue optimism, the Continental government set about building a 74-gun warship, America.  It was not completed, however, until 1782, when the war was winding down.

Early in the war, several states had tried to fill the vacuum by employing their own navies, apart from the privateers they authorized. Advocates for a true Continental navy–among them John Adams of Massachusetts, Stephen Hopkins of Rhode Island, Samuel Chase of Maryland, and William Gadsden of South Carolina–generally represented states with significant sea-trade communities. Delegates from other states saw warship building as a wasteful extravagance, and too risky based on America’s short odds of success at sea.

Adams described a heated congressional debate on Oct. 5, 1775, over whether to send vessels to harass British armed ships. Advocates cited “the great Advantages of distressing the Ennemy, supplying ourselves, and beginning a System of maritime and naval Opperations,” while opponents characterized plans for American warships as “the most wild, visionary mad project that had ever been imagined. . . . an Infant, taking a mad Bull by his horns.”  Ultimately, the delegates set into motion events that would culminate in the establishment of the Continental navy.2

When George Washington had assumed command of Continental forces in July 1775, he stood among those who believed that challenging British maritime supremacy would prove fruitless while draining resources and manpower from the land war. He modified his views after gaining a better sense of the threat the British posed by sea, as well as of the opportunities to disrupt the long British supply lines that ran between Great Britain and the states.  On Oct. 5, 1775, the same day as the congressional debate over sending Continental ships to harass the British, he wrote to John Hancock, then president of Congress, that he had “directed 3 Vessels to be equipped in order to cut off the supplies” and concluded that with “the Number of Vessels hourly arriving it may become an object of some importance” to capture as many British supply ships as possible.3

Just a week later, Washington wrote again to Hancock about his hopes for capturing British ships: “Nothing shall be omitted to secure Success: a fortunate Capture of an Ordnance Ship would give new Life to the Camp, & and an immediate Turn to the Issue of this Campaign.”4 And only 10 days after that optimistic letter, Washington relayed to Hancock the extreme danger of letting British ships go unchallenged, describing British naval actions at Falmouth, Mass., as “an Outrage exceeding in Barbarity & Cruelty every hostile Act practised among civilized Nations.” Washington wrote that this would happen again if not prevented by fortifications and armed vessels: “it appears the same Desolation is meditatd upon all the Towns on the Coast.”5

For these two immediate reasons, then–the promise of captured weapons and other supplies (and the consequent loss of them to the British), and the fears of British attack by sea–Congress and George Washington initiated aggressive naval operations. Challenges to Continental naval efforts remained complex, and I anticipate exploring these complications in later blog posts. Still, it is important to know that even before the French navy’s decisive entry into the war, Continental ships were crucial to the Revolutionary cause.

 

Notes

  1. L. H. Butterfield, et al., eds. The Adams Papers, The Diary and Autobiography of John Adams, (Cambridge, Mass., 1961), 3:342–44.
  2. Ibid., 3:343, n. 9. See also note 6 to “From George Washington to Joseph Reed, Jan. 4, 1776,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified June 29, 2017, http://founders.archives.gov/documents/Washington/03-03-02-0016. Also available in print: The Papers of George Washington, Revolutionary War Series 3:23–27.
  3. “From George Washington to John Hancock, Oct. 5, 1775,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified June 29, 2017, http://founders.archives.gov/documents/Washington/03-02-02-0098-0001. Also available in print: The Papers of George Washington, Revolutionary War Series 2:98–103.
  4. “From George Washington to John Hancock, Oct. 12, 1775,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified June 29, 2017, http://founders.archives.gov/documents/Washington/03-02-02-0140-0001. Also available in print: The Papers of George Washington, Revolutionary War Series 2:146–50.
  5. “From George Washington to John Hancock, Oct. 24, 1775,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified June 29, 2017, http://founders.archives.gov/documents/Washington/03-02-02-0210-0001. Also available in print: The Papers of George Washington, Revolutionary War Series 2:227–28).

 

 

Chintz and Revolution

By Kathryn Gehred, Research Specialist
October 6, 2017

A chintz appliqued quilt, as made by Mary Malvina Cook Taft (ca. 1835–40). Courtesy of The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Many Colonial Virginians considered unfair British economic practices to be an infringement of their natural rights. The economic grievances of the Virginia planter class eventually became a key motivator for rebellion. As Thomas Jefferson complained in his Summary View of the Rights of British America, Virginians were at the mercy of “the British merchant for whatever he will please to allow us.”1 Jefferson argued that Virginia tobacco “planters were a species of property annexed to certain mercantile houses in London.”2

One might think that Jefferson was exaggerating for the sake of argument, but Martha Washington’s financial papers support his description of Virginia economics. For the brief time (July 1757 to January 1759) that Martha Dandridge Custis managed her deceased first husband’s estate, she conducted business with several British merchants. Her papers illustrate how England profited at the expense of Virginia tobacco planters.

The first thing to understand is that Martha (like most Virginia planters) did not sell tobacco to British merchants, she consigned it. Her London representatives, Robert Cary & Co. and John Hanbury & Co., did not buy her tobacco up front. Instead, they sold it for her at market price, deducted expenses and their own commission, and sent her an account of her profits (if any). Consignment placed more risk on the planter than on the merchant. Apart from deciding which merchant to work with, planters had no control over the price and sale of their tobacco. Martha insisted that her representatives “endeavor to sell them for a good price,” but that was all she could do.3

Understandably, Virginia planters were often worried about what occurred overseas. A frequent complaint was that they would ship a certain weight of tobacco, only for the landwaiters in England to record a dramatically lesser weight. Some loss, from drying, etc., was to be expected, but when one planter’s shipment of tobacco lost 30,893 pounds on the Atlantic crossing, he suspected he was being scammed.4  

Martha, like other tobacco farmers, was responsible for paying the taxes and expenses on her tobacco shipments. In a May 1758 account of sales from John Hanbury & Co., she paid for two Subsidy taxes, Freight, Country Duties, Primage, Entry, Cooperage in and out, Cartage, Brokerage, Shipping Charges, Debenture, Porterage, Wharfage, Lighterage, Postage of Letters, Watching, and, finally, Hanbury’s Commission. After a sale of £386.7.6, Martha earned only £115.3.10 in net proceeds.5 As historian Arthur M. Schlesinger pointed out, the consignment system “resulted in careless and wasteful management on the part of the merchant in England, high commissions and freight rates, and chronic overbuying on the part of the colonist.”6

English merchants also supplied goods to the planters they represented, whom they often referred to as their “Friends.” This was another area in which English profit took precedence over colonial choice. It was illegal for any good to be imported to the colonies “but what shall have been shipped in England, and in English built Shipping, and whereof the Master, and three-fourths of the Mariners are English…”7 In 1758, Martha Custis placed a large order for clothing, sewing supplies, and fabrics, among other items, to Robert Cary & Company. One of her orders, for “Chince” gowns, “Best Indeen [Indian] made,” would actually have been illegal to purchase in England at that time, as Parliament had banned Indian c imports in 1721 in order to protect the English fabric trade.8 Merchants, however, could still sell chintz to the colonies, as long as it shipped from English ports and English merchants received commission.

It is no surprise that an empire would financially exploit its colonies. But for white American colonists used to a degree of privilege as British subjects, their treatment rankled. Virginia tobacco planters lived in apparent luxury, but most were swimming in debt. As one Virginia resident reported to his brother in 1754, “money is so scarce it is a rare thing to see a dollar.”9 If white colonists were truly English, why did they not receive the same financial protections as their countrymen overseas? Many revolutionaries referred to their treatment by Great Britain as “slavery,” which, while a dramatic overstatement, served to rile up revolutionary sentiment in white Virginians determined to keep a distinction between themselves and the 40% of the population that was enslaved. Few historians might turn to the financial documents of Lady Washington to study the causes of the American Revolution, and yet, within her invoices for lace and citron, insights are there to be discovered.

 

Notes

  1. Thomas Jefferson, A Summary View of the Rights of British America (Brooklyn, N.Y., 1826), 17.
  2. “Additional Queries, with Jefferson’s Answers, [ca. January–February 1786],” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified June 29, 2017, http://founders.archives.gov/documents/Jefferson/01-10-02-0001-0003.
  3. Martha Washington to John Hanbury and Co., 20 Dec. 1757, ViHi.
  4. The Report, with the Appendix, from the committee of the House of Commons Appointed to enquire into the Frauds and Abuses in the Customs, to the Prejudice of Trade, and the Diminution of Revenue (London, [1733]), 7.
  5. June 1758 “Accompt of Sales,” John Hanbury to Martha Custis, ViHi.
  6. Arthur M. Schlesinger, The Colonial Merchants and the American Revolution, 1763-1776 (New York, 1918), 35.
  7. “An Abridgement of Several Acts and Clauses of Acts of Parliament…” (London, [1739]), 28.
  8. Journals of the House of Commons, v. 19 (London, 1803), 493.
  9. George Hume to Jonathan Hume, Aug. 22, 1754, in “Letters of Hume Family,” The William and Mary Quarterly 8 (1899): 89.

Three Degrees to Washington: What Do You Want to Be When You Grow Up?

by Kim Curtis, Research Editor
September 20, 2017

Miniature of Martha Parke Custis, as painted by Charles Willson Peale (1772). Courtesy of Mount Vernon Ladies’ Association.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Throughout my childhood and young adulthood, I flirted with different answers to this ever-present question: teacher, pediatrician, school psychologist, child psychologist. Having earned a BA in psychology (and classics) from the University of Virginia in 2000, I settled on clinical psychologist, with the goal of teaching college students and treating patients. Since this required a PhD, I applied to several highly competitive doctoral programs but was rejected by all of them. What would have happened had I been accepted? For one thing, I would have missed becoming acquainted with George and Martha Washington.

It may seem like a reach for me to say that my psychology background and history, specifically of the founding era, go hand-in-hand. My father paved the way for me. For a graduate seminar in counseling, he wrote a psychoanalytic profile of Thomas Jefferson, in which he suggested that Jefferson’s fraught relationship with his mother led to his architectural fixation with domes! A field of academic scholarship with this approach actually exists: psychobiography analyzes the lives and psyches of historic figures. Psychobiographers Elizabeth Wirth Marvick, Jerome A. Winer, and James William Anderson took a psychoanalytic approach (like my father did) to profile Washington, Jefferson, and James Madison. Marvick, Winer, and Anderson concluded that Madison “most closely follows the model of the angry revolutionary striving to overcome his passivity toward the father and replace him with his own righteous authority.”1

My interest in psychology also stems from my love for biographies. In addition to exploring different kinds of people and the worlds in which they live, biographies bring readers inside the minds of their subjects. When I was about five years old (in the mid-1980s), I checked out my first biography from the local library; it was a children’s biography of Madonna! As an adult, my favorite (auto)biography is Katharine Graham’s Personal History, in which Graham recounts her time as publisher of The Washington Post (unheard of for a woman in the 1960s and 1970s) and the Post‘s game-changing coverage of the Watergate scandal.

My psychology background, along with my interest in people and history, helps me fully engage with The Washington Papers. I connect on a personal level with the individuals who wrote and received the correspondence with which we editors now are entrusted.

For example, a thread that runs throughout Martha Washington’s correspondence is her concern about her family’s well-being, especially the precarious health of her daughter Martha Parke “Patcy” Custis. Martha’s anxiety came to a head in a gut-wrenching letter (written by George on June 20, 1773) that I transcribed for the upcoming Martha Washington Papers project volume. George described Patcy’s death to Martha’s brother-in-law, Burwell Bassett:

It is an easier matter to conceive, than to describe, the distress of this Family; especially that of the unhappy Parent of our Dear Patcy Custis, when I inform you that yesterday removed the Sweet Innocent Girl into a more happy, & peaceful abode than any she has met with, in the afflicted Path she hitherto has trod. She rose from Dinner about four Oclock, in better health and spirits that she appeard to have been in for some time; soon after which she was siezd with one of her usual Fits & expird in it, in less than two Minutes without uttering a Word, a groan, or scarce a Sigh.2

As emotional as this scene is, what really hits home for me is Martha’s reaction, which George recounted in the same letter: “This sudden, and unexpected blow, I scarce need add has almost reduced my poor Wife to the lowest ebb of Misery; which is encreas’d by the absence of her Son…and want of the balmy Consolation of her Relations; which leads me more than ever to wish she could see them.”3

Now that I have a daughter, I can relate even more to Martha as a mother. I can’t begin to imagine what she felt after Patcy’s death. There are some things that even a psychology degree can’t prepare you for.

 

This blog post is the second of a three-part series, “Three Degrees to Washington,” about how my humanities majors help me at The Washington Papers. Part three will explore my educational background in film. You can read part one, about my classics degree, here.

 

Notes

  1. Elizabeth Wirth Marvick, Jerome A. Winer, and James William Anderson, “Notes Toward a Psychoanalytic Perspective on Three Virginia ‘Founding Fathers,'” Annual of Psychoanalysis 31 (2003): 163.
  2. “To Burwell Bassett from George Washington, June 20, 1773,” Founders Online, National Archives, last modified June 29, 2017, http://founders.archives.gov/documents/Washington/02-09-02-0185. Also available in print: The Papers of George Washington, Colonial Series 9: 243-44.
  3. Ibid.

The Circus Comes to Town

By Lynn Price, Assistant Editor
September 11, 2017

Exterior view of Astley’s amphitheater, engraving by Charles John Smith (1777). © Victoria and Albert Museum.

On Wednesday, April 24, 1793, George and Martha Washington responded to an invitation from Samuel and Elizabeth Powel. Their letter read, “Mrs Washington is so much indisposed with a cold as to make her fear encreasing it by going to the Circus this afternoon. The President & rest of the family propose to be Spectators at the exhibition of Mr Rickets.” The family members who presumably did attend were Martha’s grandchildren, Nelly and Wash, who were living at the presidential house at the time. The grandchildren living with their mother, Eliza and Patsy, could possibly have attended as well. Martha’s indisposition, however, came at an unfortunate time, as it prevented her from attending a key moment in American entertainment history—the introduction of the modern circus.

Philip Astley created the concept of the modern circus in England in 1768. A skilled horseman, Astley learned to ride standing on a horse’s back. He discovered that riding in a circle helped him balance during the trick, and thus he has been credited with inventing the first circus ring. By 1770 Astley had built an amphitheater and added a clown, musicians, and additional entertainers to his show.

Twenty-five years later, John Bill Ricketts, a Scottish horseman, introduced Americans to Europe’s new form of entertainment. His exhibitions were held in Philadelphia and New York. Though Ricketts offered a clown, tumblers, and other acts familiar to the twenty-first century reader, his horsemanship was the true highlight of the show. The March 27, 1793, issue of the Federal Gazette and Philadelphia Daily Advertiser invited readers to experience Ricketts’s “unparalleled EQUESTRIAN PERFORMANCE.” Ricketts’s first circus was reviewed in Philadelphia’s Dunlap’s American Daily Advertiser on April 4. The reviewer exclaimed that the “upwards of seven hundred Spectators” were treated to a performance “beyond expectation, beautiful, graceful and superb, in the highest extreme.”

Astley’s Amphitheatre in London, as drawn by Thomas Rowlandson and Augustus Pugin for Ackermann’s Microcosm of London (c. 1808-11). Image from Wikimedia Commons.

George Washington’s attendance at the circus did not go unnoticed. The April 24 issue of the Dunlap’s American Daily Advertiser informed readers that, “This Afternoon, The President of the United States and Family will honor the Circus with their Company.” Although it seems that she missed this one, Martha Washington may have had a second chance to witness the first American circus two months later. The July 16 issue of Philadelphia’s General Advertiser noted that at a benefit for the poor thrown by Ricketts, “The President of the United States and his family were among the company who visited the circus.” In his financial papers, George recorded on May 24, 1797, that he had paid 2 shillings, 3 pence for “Circus exp[ence]s going to George Town.”1

Did George and Martha Washington enjoy this new form of entertainment imported from Europe? Although no specific comments from either has been found, an advertisement in the January 23, 1797, issue of the Gazette of the United States, & Philadelphia Daily Advertiser stated that Ricketts offered a performance “BY DESIRE OF THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES,” suggesting that George Washington, at least, was indeed amused.

 

Notes

  1. George Washington’s Financial Papers, Ledger C, 1790-1799, pg.29, line 24.

Rick Britton: Portrait of the (Map) Artist

by Jane Haxby, Copy Editor, and Kathryn Lebert, Communications Specialist
September 6, 2017

British Operations Against Charleston, S.C. (1780), as originally published in Revolutionary War Series, volume 24. Copyright of Rick Britton.

In Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead, Tom Stoppard’s take on Hamlet, Rosencrantz tells Guildenstern that he doesn’t believe in England. Guildenstern shoots back, “Just a conspiracy of cartographers, you mean?”1

Here at The Washington Papers, we may not have the makings of a conspiracy, but—amazingly—we do have a cartographer. Historian, photographer, and tour guide, Rick Britton conspires with our editors to craft the maps that appear in our volumes.2 Perhaps more accurately described as, in his words, a “map illustrator,” Britton draws maps by hand using historical references and a list of landmarks compiled by the editors. He goes beyond simply including all the necessary elements, however: His maps are not only accurate and scholarly, but original works of art.

How does one become a historical map illustrator? For Britton, it began with an interest in history. As he tells it, when he was a teenager, he “just fell in love with the maps in the old history books, the maps the way they looked back then, the maps the way they were drawn during the Civil War and during the American Revolution.” He taught himself to enlarge maps using the same “grid method” artists have been using for centuries. This involves drawing a grid over an image and then proportionally reproducing that image by using a larger grid of equal ratio.3 He covered his bedroom walls with freehand reproductions of his favorite maps. And in the course of copying the maps he loved, he also learned how to draw the terrain symbols and other graphic design elements used by the cartographers of those periods.

Britton still revels in the details of historically accurate maps. For him, “it’s all about making it fit the period.” As with all true craftsmen, the joy he takes in the details of his art shines through. In the map of Virginia that will appear in the upcoming edition of George Washington’s Barbados diary, Britton drew icons for the buildings that were important in Washington’s youth, including his childhood home (now called Ferry Farm) and his later residence, Mount Vernon. To render these tiny images, he found depictions online of the buildings as they looked at the time, drew them, and then shrunk them (now using modern technology rather than his early training in the grid method). For the same upcoming volume, Britton mapped the route to Barbados that Washington recorded in his ship’s log, as recreated mathematically by editor Alicia K. Anderson. For that map, he departed from the border that he has made standard for The Washington Papers and drew a new one based on eighteenth-century nautical maps. He reflects that the period-specific border was “pretty complicated to draw, but it makes the whole thing fit.”

Northeast New Jersey (1780), as originally published in Revolutionary War Series, volume 25. Copyright of Rick Britton.

Skillfully using pencil and compass, Britton illuminates events for readers of presidential papers, including The Washington Papers, The Papers of James Madison, and The Papers of Thomas Jefferson; for students of the American Civil War and World Wars I and II; and even for players of a Tolkien-based game for which he hand-lettered maps of Middle Earth. Partly because his maps often depict places and scenarios that no longer exist—or that exist only in the imagination—Britton routinely cannot visit the sites he illustrates. But even when he is unable to see an area, his work offers a new perspective on it, not only for readers but for himself as well. In the course of his research into the Civil War battles of Fort Henry and Fort Donelson, two Confederate forts whose captures opened major waterways to the Union army, Britton’s geographical fluency helped him to grasp the brilliance of General Ulysses S. Grant’s gunboat strategy. Grant knew that the Tennessee River, on which Fort Henry stood, and the Cumberland River, likewise guarded by Fort Donelson, flow north into the Ohio. “Of course, looking at the map I could see it!” Britton marvels. “Even though [the steam-paddle gunboats were] going south, they were going upriver to bombard the boats and the forts on the land. If they got in too much trouble—for example, if they were getting too much enemy fire—all they had to do was cut the engines and float away.”4

Britton is particularly interested in the minutiae of historical engagements and the unique ability of maps to convey those details. Two of Britton’s favorites among his own works are his illustrations of Northeast New Jersey and of British operations against Charleston, S.C., both in 1780 (published in Revolutionary War Series volumes 24 and 25, and reproduced here). He enjoys illustrating in such detail because “it makes it so much easier for the reader to understand exactly what happened.” On a deeper level, the historian within him values maps like these because such “small-unit actions” have been “largely overlooked, and it’s so important for us to honor those who fought, and suffered, and died on our behalf.”

Rick Britton advances the study of and joy in history in everything he does. He confesses that he loves “things the way they used to be.” The twin goals of documentary editing are scholarship and accessibility, helping a wider audience understand the past. Britton’s maps offer both, and the volumes of The Washington Papers that have the good fortune to include them are all the more beautiful for it.

 

Notes

  1. Tom Stoppard, Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead (New York, 1967), Act 3, p. 106.
  2. Find Rick Britton’s website at http://www.rickbritton.com.
  3. Find step-by-step instructions in the “grid” technique at https://sibleyfineart.com/tutorial–gridding-art.htm.
  4. For a summary of the battle of Fort Henry, see https://www.nps.gov/abpp/battles/tn001.htm. For an 1875 map showing the two forts and their respective rivers, see https://www.civilwar.org/learn/maps/positions-fort-henry-fort-donelson.

Victory at Trenton

By Benjamin L. Huggins, Associate Editor
August 25, 2017

“The Hour of Victory,” painting by Edward Percy Moran (c. 1914). Courtesy of Mount Vernon Ladies’ Association. Photo by Mark Finkenstaedt.

“I have the pleasure of congratulating you upon the Success of an Enterprize, which I had formed against a Detachment of the Enemy lying in Trenton, and which was executed yesterday Morning.”

With these words, Washington announced to Congress his victory over three Hessian regiments posted at Trenton, N.J., on the morning of Dec. 26, 1776.1 For most of the previous two months the general and his army had gone from defeat to defeat, with the worst of these being the fall of Fort Washington (the subject of my last blog). Now, in one swift blow, Washington had restored his faltering reputation and lifted the army’s morale. With the British and Hessian forces in New Jersey and New York greatly outnumbering his own, Washington took a great risk in making his attack, but he felt he had to go on the offensive to restore confidence in the American cause and energize recruitment for the army.

In his report to Congress, the general outlined his attack. He had planned to assemble the army, which numbered between 2,500 and 3,000 men, at McKonkey’s Ferry on the Pennsylvania side of the Delaware River on the evening of December 25 and, after dark, cross them over to the New Jersey shore by midnight. His small army could then arrive in front of Trenton by dawn. “But,” Washington reported, “the quantity of Ice, made that Night, impeded the passage of Boats so much, that it was three OClock before the Artillery could all be got over, and near four, before the Troops took up their line of march.” He gave up hope of surprising the Hessians since the army could not reach the town before sunrise, “but as I was certain there was no making a Retreat without being discovered, and harassed on repassing the River, I determined to push on at all Events.”

Thereafter the attack proceeded swiftly. Washington formed the army into two divisions “one to march by the lower or River road, the other, by the upper or Pennington Road.” The general ordered each division, after pushing past the Hessian outpost guards, to march directly into Trenton and charge the enemy before they had time to form. “The upper division arrived at the Enemys advanced post, exactly at eight OClock, and in three Minutes after, I found from the fire on the lower Road that, that Division had also got up. The Out Guards made but small Opposition, tho’, for their Numbers, they behaved very well, keeping up a constant retreating fire from behind Houses. We presently saw their main Body formed, but from their Motions, they seem’d undetermined how to act.” The American troops quickly captured part of the Hessian artillery. When some of the Hessian troops attempted to escape by moving off on a road leading to Princeton, Washington “threw a Body of Troops in their Way which immediately checked them. Finding from our disposition, that they were surrounded, and that they must inevitably be cut to peices if they made any further Resistance, they agreed to lay down their Arms.”     Some of the Hessian soldiers made their escape before the Continentals fully surrounded the town, but Washington claimed the capture of 23 officers and 886 men.2 “Our Loss,” Washington noted, “is very trifling indeed, only two Officers and one or two privates wounded.”

“Plan of the operations of General Washington, against the Kings troops in New Jersey, from the 26th. of December, 1776, to the 3d. January 1777.” Map by William Faden (1777). Courtesy of the Library of Congress.

The general did not fail to praise his soldiers:

In justice to the Officers and Men, I must add, that their Behaviour upon this Occasion, reflects the highest honor upon them. The difficulty of passing the River in a very severe Night, and their March thro’ a violent Storm of Snow and Hail, did not in the least abate their Ardour. But when they came to the Charge, each seemed to vie with the other in pressing forward, and were I to give a preferance to any particular Corps, I should do great injustice to the others.

With only the force he brought over at McKonkey’s Ferry available for action (one division of Continentals and the Pennsylvania militia had been unable to cross due to the large quantity of ice in the river), Washington decided to forgo any further attacks as too risky. After arranging for the transport of the prisoners, Washington crossed his army back to the Pennsylvania side of the river to plan his next move. Despite Washington’s inability to continue his attack, the victory at Trenton nevertheless succeeded in clearing the British and Hessian posts on the Delaware River. Mount Holly, Bordentown, and Burlington were all evacuated.

After receiving this letter, the executive committee of Congress sent their congratulations to Washington:

We . . . rejoice in your Excellencys success at Trentown as we conceive it will have the most important publick consequences and because we think it will do justice in some degree to a Character we admire & which we have long wished to appear in the World with that Brilliancy that success always obtains & which the Members of Congress know you deserve, permit us to Congratulate you on this success & to suppose it is only the beginning of more important advantages . . . It appears to us that your attack on Trentown was totally unexpected, the Surprize compleat, & the Success beyond expectation.

Historian Chistopher Ward points out that Washington’s victory quickly became a turning point in the war: “The effect upon the American people was . . . instantaneous . . . From the depth of despair they rose to new confidence. From every direction came news of militiamen on the march to serve for two months, while the new Continental army was being organized.”3 Washington had achieved his objective.

This letter with full annotation appears in volume 7 of The Papers of George Washington, Revolutionary War Series. My next blog will focus on Washington’s Jan. 5, 1777, letter reporting his next victory at Princeton, N.J., a mere eight days after Trenton.

 

Notes

  1. The Hessian regiments, totaling about 1,500 men, were the Fusilier Regiment von Lossburg, the Fusilier Regiment von Knyphausen, and the Grenadiere Regiment von Rall. Also present were a Hessian artillery detachment, fifty Hessian jägers, and twenty British light dragoons.
  1. On the return of prisoners Washington submitted with this letter, the total number of prisoners taken was listed as 918.
  1. Christopher Ward, The War of the Revolution, 2 vols. (New York, 1952), 1:305.

Interrogating the Text; How to Annotate a George Washington Document

by William M. Ferraro, Managing Editor
August 17, 2o17

Moderating a panel on public engagement at the 2017 meeting of the Association for Documentary Editing, Washington Papers communications specialist Katie Lebert observed that content that explores the basic practices of documentary editing is often received favorably by and connects with a wide audience. Taking the cue from Katie, I devote this blog post to annotating documents that appear in The Papers of George Washington.

An editor working on elucidating a document for readers approaches this task by “interrogating the text” in order to determine which information is needed to comprehend it. The process begins by asking questions from the perspective of a reader. Who is mentioned? What is the purpose of the document? Are place references obscure? Does this document result in some action, especially an action involving Washington?

To identify research directions and establish the contours of the eventual annotation, the editor first must determine whether the people, places, and facts in the document already have been covered editorially. People identifications and places mentioned in The Washington Papers’ Revolutionary War and Presidential Series can be located quickly through searchable authoritative files found on the “Washington Papers Resources” webpage, an internal online database through which editors and staff share resources and information. The Papers of George Washington Digital Edition‘s cumulative index and conversations with colleagues also help at this stage. Ascertaining what already is known and has been presented avoids redundant research and suggests potential cross-references.

Sources most useful in annotation are those closest to the document being edited. Thus, the most relevant and dynamic pieces of annotation are texts directly linked to the document. These can be enclosed letters or extracts from letters, intelligence reports, legislative resolutions, or military returns regarding troops, provisions, or equipment. Replies, particularly shorter replies that simply address the document, frequently function better as notes to the document that prompted their creation than as separate and distinct entries.

Work then moves outward to the large universe of primary sources that might shed light on the content of the document. The Papers of George Washington offices in the University of Virginia’s Alderman Library hold hundreds of these sources, including contemporary letters (manuscripts on microfilm and printed editions), diaries, journals, and governmental proceedings. Vast amounts of similar material can now be accessed through ancestry.com and fold3.com. Searchable newspaper and bibliographic databases offer ready access to an astounding amount of printed information from Washington’s lifetime. It is a challenge to avoid getting lost in this forest of source material! Contemporary writings and publications can suggest a rich array of research directions, but these can also lead editors far afield of the document. Editors must always keep the text in mind and maintain focus on answering the questions it raises.

A similar discipline must be practiced when writing annotation. Except for the occasional figure or place of relative obscurity or exceptional importance, people and places are identified in thumbnail sketches of two or three sentences that explain or suggest why they appear in that document. Quotes from manuscript documents or other primary sources are limited to the pertinent portions and introduced as plainly as possible (“In a dispatch written at New York City on 8 Nov., Hessian major Carl Leopold Baurmeister reported:”).1 Cross references further direct readers to pertinent information elsewhere in the volume or edition. (“For the instigation behind this general order, see Anthony Wayne to GW, 18 December.”)2 Rarely is it desirable to repeat information at any length.

Just as editors must resist the temptation to follow wide-ranging but not strictly pertinent research directions, we must limit—and generally avoid—free-ranging prose in the numbered notes tagged to a document. Such prose commentary can add bulk without value, cluttering the presentation and confusing readers. If research turns up sources—primary or secondary—with interesting content beyond the needs of establishing basic context, it might be included as a “see also” reference. The list of sources used while editing a volume is compiled in the “Short Title List” and becomes an enduring scholarly contribution.

As a documentary editor with more than 28 years of experience, I have condensed what I consider the ideal approach to annotation into a phrase: deploying bibliography to contextualize texts. The editor filters and structures sources—especially primary sources—to illuminate each document. Rather than interpret or narrate, the editor places, points, reports, and guides. In our case, the repetitive cycle of work is engrossing because it centers on an endlessly fascinating subject—George Washington.

Brig. Gen. Peter Muhlenberg

An excellent example of the annotation practices discussed here is the letter from Brig. Gen. Peter Muhlenberg to Washington, written at Fredericksburg, Va., on May 8, 1780. It appears in volume 25 of the Revolutionary War Series, which will be published soon by the University of Virginia Press.

One note offers brief quotes from his father’s diary on the travails of Muhlenberg’s family on the journey from Philadelphia to Virginia (travails which Muhlenberg kept from Washington). Several notes present lengthy quotations from enclosures Muhlenberg sent with his letter. A short note identifies Rocky Ridge, a place later named Manchester and eventually annexed to Richmond. Muhlenberg mentions to Washington that he has advertised for officers to assemble, and a note includes the text of his advertisement from an issue of The Virginia Gazette (Williamsburg). A passing allusion to “Parson Hurt at Charleston” triggered a note to identify John Hurt, who served as a chaplain for the Virginia troops. Most of that note points to a 19th-century book with a sermon he preached in 1777, a letter Hurt wrote Washington during his presidency, and a biographical sketch published in a little-known modern journal.

The 14 notes attached to this document are more than the usual number, but the complexity and length of Muhlenberg’s letter justifies such handling. Please look at it yourself when the volume appears in print and let me know if you agree!

 

Notes

  1. See Silvanus Seely to GW, 4 Nov. 1779, n.2, in The Papers of George Washington: Revolutionary War Series (Charlottesville, Va., 2015), 23:150-51.
  2. See General Orders, 20 Dec. 1779, n.1, in Papers, Revolutionary War Series, 23:656.

“More Dangerous to the United States than the Late Treachery at West-Point”: Ethan Allen, Vermont’s Benedict Arnold

By Jeff Zvengrowski, Assistant Editor
August 11, 2017

An engraving of a statue of Ethan Allen. Courtesy of New York Public Library.

Treason is a central theme in volume 28 of The Washington Papers’ Revolutionary War Series. In a letter dated Sept. 26, 1780, George Washington informed Lieutenant General Rochambeau, who led the French forces at Rhode Island that “General Arnold, who has sullied his former glory by the blackest treason, has escaped to the enemy. This is an event that occasions me equal regret and mortification; but traitors are the growth of every country, and . . . it is more to be wondered at, that the catalogue is so small, than that there have been found a few.”1 Washington expected to add the renowned Vermont militia commander Ethan Allen to that catalog, however, when he told Gov. George Clinton of New York in early November “that I have given discretionary powers to seize and secure a certain person, should it appear upon further investigation necessary.”2

Fort Ticonderoga had famously fallen in May 1775 to Allen and Benedict Arnold. By the late 1770s, Allen, like Arnold, had become dissatisfied with Congress due to New York’s continued claim to Vermont, which was still commonly called the New Hampshire Grants. In mid-October 1780, British forces stationed in Quebec invaded the northern frontiers of New York and Vermont. The Vermont Republic still had not been admitted to the United States despite having declared independence in 1777. Congressman Philip Schuyler, Col. William Malcom, and other prominent New Yorkers recalled how Allen’s Green Mountain Boys militia had forcibly resisted New York’s authority from 1770 to 1775. They now suspected a grand scheme on Britain’s part to sever New England from New York through the treachery of Allen and Arnold. As Clinton informed Washington in an Oct. 14 letter: “It is a little remarkable that we had not the least Intelligence from the Grants of the approach of the Enemy tho’ they passed their settlements in Boats on the way. . . . This Enterprize of the Enemy is probably the effects of arnolds Treason. . . .”3 And Washington concurred in his reply of Oct. 16 that “I do not think it at all improbable that the movements of the Enemy, at this advanced season of the year, may have been upon a plan concerted to take advantage of the success of arnolds treachery.”4

A commemorative plaque at Fort Ticonderoga.

Having reported in an Oct. 18 letter to GW that “There has [been] but very little assisstance derived from the Grants on this Occassion—which cannot at present be accounted for,” Malcom wrote Washington again on the 29th that “I am Suspicious that there will be bad news from the north-parts of the State—towards the Grants <ere> long—my information although pretty good are not sufficent to accuse.”5  Clinton soon wrote Washington a letter in which he cited “the very extraordinary Conduct of Colo. allen and the Jealousies it has occasioned” in accepting a ceasefire with the British on Vermont’s behalf in order to negotiate prisoner exchanges.6  Schuyler had also sent Washington a copy of a letter he had received from Col. Alexander Webster of the New York militia. In the letter, Webster questioned Allen’s motives in asking the British to extend a similar offer to New York.  Suspecting that Allen’s overture was a feint to help disguise his treason, Webster stated: “I make no doubt but at first sight It will appear that the Grants have left us to ourselves either to stand or fall.”7  And Washington instructed Brig. Gen. James Clinton, the governor’s brother, on Nov. 6 as follows: “From some circumstances there is reason to apprehend Treachery in the Northern Quarter. . . . upon a further investigation if it should appear necessary to secure a certain person, you are to concert measures for having him apprehended suddenly and sent down the Country under a proper guard. You need not be cautioned against lisping the most distant hint of this business.”8

Allen would not be arrested upon further investigation, even though his Vermont political foe Joseph Marsh had warned Washington that “a negociation is on foot for a separate peace for the new State, which we have heard has been threatned if Congress should not acknowledge the independence of Vermont and admit them to union.” Marsh had added that “the consequences of such negotiation may be speedily fatal to the settlements contiguous to Connecticut river and more dangerous to the united States than the late treachery at West-point.”9 Allen actually was engaged in secret negotiations with Frederick Haldimand, the British commander in Quebec, to make Vermont a British province if rebuffed by Congress.10 The negotiations, however, came to naught in 1783, and Allen did not live to see Vermont become the 14th state in 1791 under President Washington.

 

Notes

1. GW to Rochambeau, 26 Sept. 1780 (LS, CtY-BR: Rochambeau Papers and Rochambeau Family Cartographic Archive).

2. GW to George Clinton, 6 Nov. 1780 (LS, N-Ar: George Clinton Papers).

3. George Clinton to GW, 14 Oct. 1780 (LS, DLC:GW).

4. GW to George Clinton, 16 Oct. 1780 (LS, CSmH). See GW to Thomas Jefferson, 10 Oct. 1780 (Df, DLC:G); and GW to Samuel Huntington, 21 Oct. 1780 (Df, DLC:GW).

5. William Malcom to GW, 18 Oct. 1780 (ALS, DLC:GW); and William Malcom to GW, 29 Oct. 1780 (ALS, DLC:GW).

6. George Clinton to GW, 3 Nov. 1780 (LS, DLC:GW).

7. Alexander Webster to Philip Schuyler, c.31 Oct. 1780, enclosed in Schuyler to GW, 31 Oct. 1780.  See Webster to John Williams, c.31 Oct. 1780, also enclosed in Schuyler to GW, 31 Oct. 1780.

8. GW to James Clinton, 6 Nov. 1780 (LS, NHi: George and Martha Washington Papers).

9. Joseph Marsh to GW, 3 Nov. 1780 (ALS, DLC:GW).

10. See John J. Duffy and H. Nicholas Muller III, Inventing Ethan Allen (Hanover and London: University Press of New England, 2014), 167-68.