Tag Archives: American Revolution

Salem 250: Revolutionary Residences

So many towns around us have had house and walking tours featuring houses connected to prominent patriots for this big anniversary year, but not Salem. It’s not surprising. The Witch Trials are an eclipse that darkens so much of our city’s history, and Salem’s myriad roles in the Revolution have been relatively ignored for the last century or so, not only by locals but also by academic historians. For overviews, there are some great journal articles, and now a book, by Richard J. Morris, and we made our author, Hans Schwartz, compress the entire Revolution (as well as Salem’s role as pre-revolutionary provincial capital) into a 5,000-word chapter in Salem’s Centuries. There are references to Salem’s pre-revolutionary resistance in several general texts on the Revolution, and an entire volume on Leslie’s Retreat by Peter Hoffer. Scholars cannot ignore the fact that Salem was a major, if not the major privateering port, so there’s some good coverage there. But that’s about it, and very little of this scholarship has impacted Salem’s public history, with the notable exception of the annual reenactments of Leslie’s Retreat. My deep dive into Salem history over the past few years has convinced me that the Revolution is the era of opportunity for Salem historians and I hope they step up! There are many stories which have yet to be told. In the meantime, however, I put together my own Revolutionary house tour, designed to highlight both prominent and not-so-prominent Salem patriots—and architecture, of course. This is by no means exhaustive, just a start really.

Several successful privateers became even more successful merchants after the Revolution, and their houses have always been notable, so I’ll start with the Derby Street houses of Captains Simon Forrester and Edward Allen. Forrester is a storied privateer/merchant, and not only because he emigrated from Ireland on Daniel Hawthorne’s ship, married the captain’s daughter, and thus was connected to Nathaniel Hawthorne as “Old Simon Forrester.” The wealth that he attained both during and after the Revolution add to the story, as does his drinking, about which some of his memorialists get a bit defensive. But he commanded or had interests in 7 privateers during the Revolution, beginning with the very successful Rover. I’ve always thought that his house, at 188 Derby Street, is in the perfect location overlooking Salem Harbor. Further down the street and on the other side at #125 is the Capt. Edward Allen house, built by the commander of the South Carolina naval brigantine Comet: presumably he was rewarded with that command after bringing Charleston news of the Battles of Lexington and Concord in his Salem ship Industry. Both the Continental Congress and individual states commissioned naval ships during the Revolution, and Massachusetts was a center of recruitment for both. While I was in the Derby Street neighborhood, I searched for the house of the Lt. Colonel Samuel Carlton, my candidate for Salem’s most illustrious Revolutionary warrior. Carlton created his own company right after Bunker Hill, and was with Washington at Valley Forge. There, he wrote letters documenting the suffering of the troops; indeed he offers the most poignant characterizations of the suffering shoeless soldiers of Valley Forge. There, he suffered himself, so much so that he had to leave service and was paralyzed from the waist down for the rest of his life. Nevertheless, the Reverend William Bentley wrote that no man endured so much with greater patience upon his death. Carlton has a lovely gravestone in Howard Street Cemetery, but he deserves more: he definitely deserves his own post, an article, a book, a memorial. I couldn’t even find his house: Bentley refers to it as located on Union Street, and a genealogical account describes it as “three stories with narrow eaves,” so #s 8 1/2 and 22 are my best candidates, but it may be gone.

When “revolutionary remembrance” started in the 1820s and 1830s, the most famous Salem veterans were Timothy Pickering, Stephen Abbot and Jesse Smith. Pickering was successively a Colonel, Adjutant General and Quartermaster General during the Revolution, and Secretary of War and State afterwards, so his prominence made his family’s first-period house Salem’s key revolutionary touchstone and I think it remains so. Abbot served as a captain in several companies of the Massachusetts 15th Regiment from the beginning of the revolution through 1780, and founded Salem’s 2nd Corps of Cadets after the war, and was also appointed a major general in the Second Division of the Massachusetts Militia. President Washington visited both the Pickering and Abbot houses when he came to Salem in 1789, but Abbot’s house is long gone, from at least 1912, when its remains were incorporated into a Chestnut Street carriage house. Jesse Smith (1756-1844) was not a Salem native or soldier, but he moved to this town of opportunity in the later years of the Revolution, and really became famous for being a veteran decades later. He was at Lexington and Concord, and Bunker Hill, Brandywine, Germantown and Monmouth, after which he became a member of General Washington’s prestigious Life Guards. He became a shipmaster in Salem after the war, and because of both his service and  longevity, lived to see and represent Salem in a series of Revolutionary commemorations. He was not a wealthy man, but a prominent one, and while he lived out his last days boarding at 14 Beckford Street (third image below), his fellow citizens saw fit to erect an elaborate monument to him upon his death, with inscriptions of his service and a pillar topped by George Washington’s bust (which has since disappeared) in Salem’s newest and most fashionable cemetery, Harmony Grove.

Funerary monument of Jesse Smith, Harmony Grove Cemetery, c. 1890s, Frank Cousins Collection of Glass Plate Negatives, Phillips Library of the Peabody Essex Museum, via Digital Commonwealth.

Next up, we have more humble “soldiers of the Massachusetts line”: you can find a concentration of their houses along Federal and River streets–in perfect proximity for a walking tour!

First up is this wonderful house at 114 Federal Street built in the last year of the Revolution by Colonel John Page. Page was a Marblehead native who signed up for John Glover’s regiment right after Lexington and Concord. He served for a year, then came back to Massachusetts and moved to Salem, where he become Colonel of the Militia. In that role, he volunteered for service in Samuel Flagg’s Company at the Battle of Rhode Island, the first joint military operation between American and French forces, in August of 1778. The next house is the rare double back-to-back Federal built by the famous Sanderson brothers, among Salem’s most famous and productive cabinent makers. Neither Elijah or Jacob were soldiers, but they were Lexington natives who were very much there during the Battles of Lexington and Concord, both in terms of engagment and testimony, so their house needs to be on a Revolutionary residence tour. Across the way, I’d love to include another post-revolutionary house (Salem experienced a major building boom in the 1780s and 1790s, largely because of privateering—compare to Marblehead!) built by Joseph Felt, but I can’t quite confirm that the builder/dweller was the same Joseph Felt who served in Capts. Benjamin Ward Jr.’s and Miles Greenwood’s Companies in 1776-1777.  Pinning down soldiers is difficult: we have digitized service, pension, and service records, but they contain ommissions and contradictions (and there are a lot of Felts.) The last house in the group below, at 175 Federal Street, was most definitely the dwelling of Joshua Cross, who served in Major-General Charles Lee’s Life Guard under the command of the heroic Benjamin Gould from Topsfield.

Circling back to adjacent River Street, there are the houses of Stephen Driver at #18 and John Chandler at #7. According to their pension applications, Driver was a corporal in two companies, Capt. Addison Richard’s and Capt. Joseph Swasey’s, from 1775-1777, and Chandler served as 2nd Lieutenant in John Crane’s and Capt. Drury’s companies in Henry Knox’s Regiment over a slightly shorter period. I thought Chandler might have been part of the Knox Artillery Train, but Crane (another super hero) stayed near Boston. All of these guys (including Knox) were in their twenties, and I am grateful for their service as well as these material reminders.


Monmouth Memorials

I was down in New Jersey for a celebration of life event for a cherished member of my husband’s family over the weekend, and as the region where he grew up, Monmouth County in the central part of the state, is a veritable crossroads of the American Revolution, I took advantage of a free and beautiful afternoon to see a recreation of the 1778 Battle of Monmouth on its preserved battlefield. It was a large gathering of Patriots of different-colored coats and Redcoats, who also featured variant regimental uniforms. And there were also Revolutionary medical officers, chaplains, cooks and assorted camp followers. Everyone was very dedicated to their tasks at hand, and so I was inspired to look around the county for more Revolutionary places, including the Englishtown Inn which served as General Washington’s headquarters as well as the site of the retreating General Lee’s court-martial two days after the battle and the beautiful Old Tennent Presbyterian Church which became a shrine to the battle dead. In contrast to the battlefield, all was very quiet at the Church, which is surrounded by a graveyard with the marked graves of Revolutionary veterans, including two young men from Massachusetts and a British Lt. Colonel buried far from home.

The Battle of Monmouth’s most famous (composite) heroine, Molly Pitcher, was everywhere of course, including my sister-in-law’s house when I got home late in the afternoon—at the center of a battle watercolor in one of my favorite aesthetics, “mid-century colonial”! She (my sister-in-law, not Molly Pitcher) wasn’t really sure of how she came to possess this scene or its artist, so if you have any clues about the latter, let me know. I really like this depiction, and compared to the works of  Currier & Ives and their successors, it is very measured Molly: generally she is depicted as the central figure.

Currier & Ives, “The Heroine of Monmouth,” 1876, Museum of the American Revolution.

The weekend ended on a poignant note when other sisters-in-law took me to see the County’s 9/11 Memorial in Atlantic Highlands, atop Mount Mitchill with the surviving and new towers of New York City in the distance. An eagle clutching a beam from one of the fallen towers, with the names of all the (147) victims from the towns of Monmouth County inscribed below, it manages to merge the national and the local very effectively, just like the Revolutionary memorials to the south.


Philly Love

We were in Pennsylvania for the last leg of our spring road trip, principally, but not exclusively, in Philadelphia. I’ve been to Philadelphia many times for different reasons, but this was definitely my favorite visit. It certainly wasn’t the weather—it was as unseasonably cold as it was elsewhere for most of the time we were there. Since we really slowed down and confined most of our touring, eating and drinking to the Old City it was most definitely the architecture, but it was also seeing so many people coming for the history, and being awed by it. Being a Revolutionary War tourist is really fun: I plan to keep on doing it all year long. There were crowds and crowds of color-coded t-shirt-wearing middle schoolers along with many foreign tourists in Independence National Historic Park, and the rangers handled it all in stride, with joy actually. We saw all the usual things, took in some special tours on historic preservation and taverns, made our own little Benjamin Franklin tour, visited the Museum of the American Revolution for the first time, and ate and drank at some great restaurants. The one thing I was a bit surprised about was all the construction going on—I assumed that projects would be completed for Philly’s big year—but it certainly did not detract from our experience. I’m looking forward to going back more often.

Just walking, beginning with Elfreth’s Alley. Philly seems to have figured out how to accomodate tourists and residents at the same time. Very clean streets, no huge walking tours (I saw no more than 20), no microphones.

Independence National Historic Park, including the Benjamin Franklin Museum:

I now have seen Declaration of Independence exhibits in SIX states and the These Truths exhibition at the American Philosophical is my favorite: it’s small but mighty, and manages to be incredibly dynamic by showing how the Declaration changes over time. This was certainly emphasized by the commissioned “Re-Declaration” project of Johanna Drucker, whose Declaration is a historical/contemporary study of the power of graphic design and punctuation. Then we were off to the Powel House, as it was on my punch list of mid-eighteenth-century mid-Atlantic Georgian houses. The home of Samuel Powel, the “Patriot Mayor” who served as the last colonial mayor of Philadelphia and the first “American” one, the highlight for me was the second-floor ballroom.

And finally, my first visit to the relatively new Museum of the American Revolution! There is an extended chronological exhibition which takes you through the Revolution in most of the building, a gallery for rotating exhibitions currently featuring a thoughtful examination of the Declaration of Independence’s “journey,” and then of course Washington’s Tent, the centerpiece of its collection. We ended up here on a rainy Saturday, so it was quite crowded, but the museum’s design seemed to handle everyone very well, and still provided a bit of intimacy in some of the galleries—I managed to be almost alone in the privateering gallery, sitting on a model ship with only a woman and her adorable baby in view (I was searching for Salem here and didn’t find much). The main exhibition had a very effective ending: with the amazing photographs of Revolution veterans and combatants from the mid-19th century on one wall, adjoining an assortment of mirrors surrounding the statement: MEET THE FUTURE of the American Revolution.


The Wilton House

Virginia was the second leg of our southern road trip: we visited family in Richmond, toured historic gardens, and saw several Lost Cause and revolutionary exhibitions. I am enjoying the regional America 250 interpretations. For example, the Virginia Museum of History and Culture has branded Patrick Henry, Thomas Jefferson, and George Washington, Virginians all of course, as the “Voice, Pen, and Sword” of the Revolution. Now I am a big Patrick Henry fan, but I think we can identify a few other notable voices—perhaps the Adamses of Massachusetts? Different messaging in Philadelphia–which I’ll explore next week. I thought I’d just spotlight a beautiful house today: the Wilton House, also in Richmond, thought its original location was 15 miles outside of the city. It’s a very high-style Georgian mansion built in 1753 for William Randolph III and his family. Threatened by industrial development in 1933 (the year after the bicentennial of Washington’s birthday, cresting an intense Colonial Revival wave) it was purchased by the National Society of Colonial Dames, dismantled, and carefully resurrected on a beautiful site overlooking the James River in Richmond’s west end. Its detaled resurrection, or re-erection, is extremely notable in the history of historic preservation, and I wanted to learn about that as well as see the house. The story, as well as the house, did not disappoint.

I tried, but my amateurish photography can’t really do this house justice: it’s so textured and there was only natural light in many of the rooms. Every single room, downstairs and up, is panelled, and those amazing windowed alcoves seemed to let in different shades of light. The black walnut staircase was astounding! The largest and most public of the downstairs rooms—photos four and five above—was so gorgeous I gasped but I don’t think it’s really captured here. It is set up for General Lafayette, who stayed at the Wilton House just before Yorktown. The interpretation was both architectural (both design and construction) and historical in terms of the Randolph family history and general history, because this was a conspicuous house, visited by many, including George Washington. Ultimately the decline of the Randolph family fortune led to the decline of the house and the derelict status from which the Colonial Dames rescued it. But both the family and its restoration were set in a broad historical and social context, so we see the list of people enslaved by the Randolphs as well as family portraits (in close proximity), and photographs of those who contributed to the restoration of the house and that story too. A dual narrative, encompassing many “smaller stories,” exemplified by a beautiful house.


Naval History is so Competitive

On either side of Salem, Beverly and Marblehead have a longstanding rivalry as to which is the birthplace of the U.S. Navy: the Hannah, owned by John Glover of Marblehead and the first ship to be commissioned for warfare by General George Washington, set sail from Beverly in September of 1775 with a Marblehead crew and munitions. Other places sustain that claim as well, including Whitehall, New York (where the continentals captured a British schooner and renamed her Liberty in the spring of 1775 and Benedict Arnold’s Quebec flotilla was built in the following year), Providence (or East Greenwich, where the Rhode Island passed a resolution to arm vessels in June of 1775), and Philadelphia (where the Continental Congress authorized the creation of a naval force on October 13, 1775), but these claims are of little concern to Massachusetts people. A century ago, Marblehead (seemingly unchallenged by Beverly at that time) was planning its big naval birthplace celebration when Salem historian Sidney Perley dropped a bombshell: it was Salem that was actually the birthplace of the navy with its commission of an armed vessel way back in the seventeenth century! And then all bets were off and other claimants quickly came forward: Kingston, New Bedford, Dartmouth and Somerville, Massachusetts and Machias, Maine. Somerville?

An exciting contest in the early summer of 1926! Sidney Perley was on fire at this time. He had just been through a protracted dispute over the date of the founding of Salem with the still-powerful Endicott family, who preferred 1628 when their ancestor came over. Stalwart Sidney stuck to 1626 when Roger Conant setted in what would become Salem, and resigned from the Essex Institute, then very much Salem’s pedigreed historical society, when he did not receive affirmation. Nevertheless he was slated to become the most-favored speaker of the Tercentenary celebrations that summer. I have enormous respect for him as a historian, but I suspect he was just stirring the pot with this navy assertion. His claim was based on a singular reference to a “man o’war ketch” in 1679, when the selectman of Salem reimbursed William Browne for its use. Ketches were popular vessels in Salem in the seventeenth century, used primarily for fishing, and they were small; it’s difficult to think of them as military ships. The early modernist in me has a vague recollection of the “bomb ketches” used by the French and then the English for coastal bombardment in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, but I don’t think that’s what we have here. A “man o’war ketch” does sound interesting though.

The Adventure (2008), a replica 17th century ketch moored at Charles Towne Landing in South Carolina.

The other claims seem more substantive than that of Salem. The Massachusetts state brigantine Independence was built in 1776 at Kingston’s Jones River Landing boatyard, one of the oldest in the country. Somerville went back even earlier than Salem: its claim was based on the Blessing of the Bay, “half-trader and half-fighter” and the first ship built in Massachusetts, which was launched on the Mystic River (some say at Medford, but I’m not getting into that rivalry) in the summer of 1631. The Battle of (or off) Fairhaven in May of 1775 is the basis of New Bedford’s and Dartmouth’s claims, although this brief battle is often consigned to the level of skirmish, giving the title of “First Naval Battle of the Revolution” to that of Machias, on June 11-12, 1775. So these are the rival claims, all of which Marblehead dismissed rather flippantly, especially that of Salem. Marblehead’s very public invitation to its naval anniversary celebrations dissed Salem several times: Like Boston, Marblehead, the second port of importance, was guarded by British warships, and so Gen Glover had the Hannah taken to his storehouses and wharf in Beverly, where quietly they worked and fitter her out, the first warship of the United States Government. But since Salem is going her own way and not sure of her own birthday, we of Marblehead have no hard feelings or malice in our hearts, but extend a cordial welcome to come to Marblehead and join with us in the celebration of the birth of the US Navy and we of Marblehead extend to that fine old city of Salem a most sincere with in the celebration commemorating the tercentenary.

The Schooner Hannah by John F. Leavitt, Naval Heritage and Command

By all accounts, Marblehead had a very successful 150th anniversary of the Navy celebration and Salem an even more robust Tercentenary in the summer of 1926 but that is not the end of the story. Less than a decade later, Beverly put forward its claim very assertively, and that claim is still standing! Not my story, so I’ll leave it at that. I think that Governor Maura Healey and Lieutenant Governor Kim Driscoll are quite wise to simply celebrate the Massachusetts origins of the Navy whenever the occasion calls for that salute.


Personal Declarations

I would love to hear about Revolutionary exhibitions, programs and events sheduled for your area in this 250th anniversary year: 1776 is certainly alive and well in the Boston area! Since I’m on sabbatical, I’ve been able to attend quite a few happenings, and my favorite collaborative initiative is the Declarations Trail, on which four institutions, the Boston Athenaeum, the Massachusetts Historical Society, the Boston Public Library and Harvard University’s Houghton Library, have put more than a dozen copies of the Declaration of Independence on view, “originally created in different printings for different audiences” along with lots of other contextual objects. I’ve been to the first two exhibitions at the Athenaeum and MHS, and am looking forward to the opening of the last two later this spring.

Looking at, and thinking about, these paper Declarations has got me thinking about their popular and personal reception. I am very mindful of the words of historian J.L. Bell on his great blog Boston 1775: for the first generations of Americans it was a set of words, not an object they ever saw but at the same time, I know that one of the primary functions of print is to make things more permanent, and with tangible permanance comes possession as well as remembrance. Following that trail in my mind brought me to textile Declarations in general and Declaration handkerchiefs in particular–because there seems to have been a market for these words that you could literally put in your pocket. That market did not really develop until the first era of remembrance for the American Revolution—the 1820s, approaching its 50th anniversary with participants dying—but then it really took off. A great book (Threads of History. Americana Recorded on Cloth 1775 to the Present by Smithsonian curator Herbert R. Collins), an archived exhibition at the Museum of the American Revolution, and numerous auction archives introduced me to the copperplate-printed handkerchiefs produced by William Gillespie & Sons in Scotland for the American market beginning in 1821. Produced in blue, black and red colorways, there’s a blue one coming up at auction next week at Eldred’s Auctions, and this spectacular red textile was the banner lot at an important Sotheby’s auction in 2023. A black (more sepia) handkerchief was sold by Swann Auction Galleries in 2023, and the Yale University Art Gallery has a similar one, as well as a centennial quilt from fifty years later sewn around the same: what a perfect object linking two eras of patriotic remembrance.

Textiles seem less ephemeral than paper, so I assume that the Declaration handkerchiefs of the 1820s were in demand as commemorative items, but it’s important to remember that this was also an era that the Declaration was being issued as separate broadside for the first time too–it was evolving from words into an object which could take several forms. The motifs that were featured on these textiles, including the “chain” of states, big Revolutionary moments, and the founding fathers, will reappear again and again. Fifty years later, the Centennial will inspire another wave of patriotic production, but those objects will be more familiar than introductory.


Remembering the Ladies: Two Talks in Salem

A promotional post today: I’ve got two events coming up at the end of this week and the beginning of next on women’s history in Salem for the close of Women’s History Month. Both are free and all are welcome. The first is on Saturday at Old Town Hall, and very squarely focused on women’s organized philanthropy over the centuries, but particularly in the nineteenth. Because this year is the 400th anniversary of Salem’s European founding, I am going back into the seventeenth century but the nineteenth century is so busy I have labeled it the era of “benevolent activism”! This is certainly not a discovery on my part; anyone who glances at an archival list of Salem sources is going to see that Salem women were really busy in that particular century. So many organizations were founded, and with due diligence, quite a few have survived to the present. We really wanted to include a chapter on this topic in Salem’s Centuries, but it just didn’t happen, so I’m happy to focus in on it now even though it took a bit of work for sure. To tell you the truth, I think all of the women associated with all of the organizations you see on this flyer know the history of their institutions better than I do, so I’m just providing a bit of comparative context and a more sweeping view afforded by four centuries of perspective.

Salem Woman’s Friend Society Collection, Salem State University Archives and Special Collections.

My other event is a bit more about women’s political history in Salem, though I definitely developed an appreciation for how political philanthropic work can be, as well as even more respect for disenfranchised women, when working on the charity talk. Just think about one decade for Salem women, 1920-1920: they provided care during several major epidemics (smallpox, tuburculosis) and relief after the Great Salem Fire of 1914, lost a crucial state vote on suffrage in 1915, participated in several “preparedness” initiatives during World War I and ministered to the sick during the “Spanish” Flu, and then finally won the vote in 1920. Just incredible: I would have been pretty darn mad following that 1915 referendum and retreated to my bedroom or study.

“Remember the Ladies” is a tea at the Hawthorne Hotel on March 31st at 4 (again, free and all are invited) in which I will focus more directly on women’s political activities. As the flyer asserts, the  “school suffrage”  election of 1879, when women across Massachusetts were allowed to run for, and vote in, elections for school boards, will definitely be a highlight. Salem women really turned out and won four seats, the most in the Commonwealth, and they continued to hold seats right up until 1920 and beyond. But because this is the 400th anniversary, I’m going to go back and forth from 1879. This event is the initiative of my friend Jane, a former Salem city councillor, and she chose the date because it it the 250th anniversary of Abigail Adams’ “Remember the Ladies” letter to her husband in Philadelphia. So I’m definitely going to shine a spotlight on this epistolary moment and also compare Abigail to her near-exact contemporary in Salem, Mary Toppan Pickman. Different women of the same age and time in very similar situations for very different reasons! Both minding the farm and their families while their husbands were absent: John on patriotic business and Benjamin Pickman in London hanging out with other conspicuous Loyalists.

In closing to what I intend to be BRIEF remarks, I’ll move forward to the bicentennial year of 1976, in which the first two women elected to the Salem City Council, ward councillor Frances Grace and councillor-at-large Jean-Marie Rochna, took their seats. Just as those women elected to the School Board in 1879 probably expected the vote a bit sooner than 1920, I bet those women who voted in 1920 likely thought that their city would see a female councilor before 1976, but as we all know, change takes time, and effort. But continuity does too.

I’m not sure if this is the 1976 or 1977 Salem City Council, but it is from the Salem News Collection at Salem State University Archives and Special Collections.

More information for “Organizing Generosity,” March 28, Old Town Hall @ 10: https://www.womansfriendsociety.org/events-1/organizing-generosity-centuries-of-women-supporting-women-in-salem

More information for “Remember the Ladies,” March 31, Hawthorne Hotel @ 4: https://www.eventbrite.com/e/remember-the-ladies-tickets-1985348533909?aff=ebdssbdestsearch

 


A Major Revolutionary Engraver

So many untold revolutionary stories in Salem’s history. SO MANY. I started thinking about Joseph Hiller, a soldier (Major, in fact), watchmaker, engraver, and Collector of the Port of Salem and Beverly, last week and put together a little visual sketch of his life, just to have everything in one place and illustrate how he both impacted and reflected his time. Hiller (1748-1814) was a Boston man, who came to Salem for reasons that are unclear to me, probably business. He is generally referred to as a watchmaker and sometimes a silversmith, though several sources refer to his more general “mechanical” abilities. In 1775, he became a Revolutionary player, in several ways. He is referenced as an officer in one of the Salem companies, and some sources indicate that he was at Lexington and Concord. I’m not sure about that, but his other early Revolutionary role is well-documented: he became an engraver and thus a disseminator of Patriot portraits. Just two weeks after the Battle of Bunker Hill, Hiller produced one of the earliest portrait prints of the Revolution: a mezzotint ot Major General Israel Putnam as portrayed in pastel by his fellow Salemite Benjamin Blythe. European publishers had been producing portrait prints for decades, and now Hiller was tapping into an emerging American market.

American Revolution Institute of the Society of the Cincinnati. More about this print, Blythe, and Putnam here.

Hiller was in the right place at the right time to engage in patriotic publishing. He followed up the popular Putnam print with one of John Hancock, based on the John Singleton Copley portrait, and possibly (several of Hiller’s prints are “possibly by” or “attributed to” as we don’t always see the definitive signatures visible on the Putnam and Hancock prints above) with prints of the martyr of Bunker Hill, Major General Joseph Warren, and General George and “Lady” Martha Washington, based on portraits made by Charles Willson Peale for John Hancock in 1776. The smoking battlefield of Bunker Hill is in the background of George Washington’s portrait, placing him at Dorchester Heights in the foreground, ready to drive the British out of Boston in March 1776. There is no dramatic/poetic narrative to attach to him, but Hiller seems Revere-sque in his commercial pursuits.

“The Hon. John Hancock Esquire” mezzotint after Copley, 1775, Christies; Major Joseph Warren mezzotint after Copley, possibly Joseph Hiller, Yale University Art Gallery; His Excellency George Washington and Lady Washington, McAlpin Collection, New York Public Library.

The uncertainty of several of Hiller’s attributions might be one reason we don’t hear more about him. Even though I wrote my Ph.D. dissertation on printing, I think art historians are far more equipped to analyze the transformation of portraits into prints, and there has been quite a lot of discussion among them over the attribution of the portraits I am featuring in this post. Context and connections must be considered. For the Blyth(e) portraits, I’m looking forward to reading a recently-published book by Bettina Norton entitled Benjamin Blyth, Salem’s 18th-Century Limner at a Time of Radical Upheaval, (Tidepool Press, available here and here) as it was she who identified the Bunker Hill-Dorchester Heights George Washington connection noted above. But for Hiller, publishing is only part of the story. After the Revolution, he was appointed Naval Officer for the port of Salem by Governor John Hancock and Collector by President George Washington thereafter: from 1783 until 1802, a busy time for the port, Hiller was Salem’s chief Customs official. Don’t let Nathaniel Hawthorne’s disdain for this post a half century later color its importance: during Hiller’s time import duties represented the vast majority of Federal revenues. A portrait in the Custom House is a testimony to his tenure, and his name is on a lot of paper, generally with more famous names! By all accounts Hiller was a professional officeholder, but he was also a conspicuous Federalist, so subject to the Jeffersonian purge. After he left his post, he left Salem for various locales, eventually ending up in Lancaster, where he died in 1814.

Hiller’s portrait in the Custom House (1819) built after his tenure and death, Salem Maritime National Historic Park; Cover of 1789 letter from Treasury Secretary Alexander Hamilton to Hiller, Smithsonian/National Postal Musuem; Crop of 1794 Sea Letter for Two Friends signed by George Washington, Thomas Jefferson and countersigned by Hiller, Library of Congress. Hiller’s various obituaries reference Lexington and Concord, but I can’t place him there—I am always eager to find ANY Salem soldier present on that day so if you have more information, let me know! More interesting details of Hiller’s life: he was a prominent Mason and Swedenborgian convert.


Knox Sunday

I know, there was a big football game yesterday, and I watched half of it at an actual party at night but the day was reserved for Col. Henry Knox. I’ve been watching online as commemorations of Knox’s Noble Train of Artillery moved across large swaths of New York and Massachusetts on its way to relieve the besieged citizens of Boston but had not made it to one live event—and Evacuation Day (better known as St. Patrick’s Day to those of you not in Massachusetts) is only a little over a month away. So I decided to drive out to Framingham to see some cannons and Patriots before the other Patriots took the field. The event was a bit more talk than action, as I listened to organizers and politicians and community leaders express their joy at being part of the festivities. Quite a few speeches, but earnest expressions all and it was nice to see such a large community gathering.

Scenes of the day; Revolution 250 Chair Professor Robert Allison and the official Trail.

Knox Trail 250 is an initiative of Revolution 250, which bears the motto: Your Town, Your History, Our Nation so the commemorative events of the past few years have always been community-based in terms of organization and participation. This particular event was a Middlesex County affair, with representatives from all the towns surrounding Framingham (Marlborough, Southborough, Wayland ) present. Besides community (then and now), there was also a notable emphasis on the two most heralded African American soldiers of the Revolution from Massachusetts: Salem Poor and Peter Salem. The former was representated by a reenactor (below) who sounded more like an actor as he recounted his life and service, while we saw Peter Salem’s name on a 1775 roster of Framingham Minutemen. (Why the two Salem names? The answer seems somewhat shrouded still, but the general concensus seems to be that Poor’s name, which occasionally appeared as “Salam” might have an Islamic connection or represent a form of salaam, the word for peace in Arabic, while Peter’s name designated the town of one of his enslavers.) I spent a long time looking at the roster.

I’ve been fascinated by Henry Knox’s story for a long time. It seems so sweeping and dramatic, like many Revolutionary personal narratives. Young Boston bookseller becomes inflamed with the cause, marries the daughter of prominent Loyalists who promptly disown her, sets out to liberate Boston by transporting 59 cannons from Fort Ticonderoga in the dead of winter, mounts said cannons on Dorchester Heights and drives the British away after the long siege, becomes Washington’s chief of artillery and later the first Secretary of War, retrieves his wife’s family’s confiscated land holdings and settles down in the midst of the Maine county that would be named for him (and then of course there’s Fort Knox too). Having physical places tied to your memory, in Knox’s case an actual trail, invites exploration.

Revolution 250 Executive Director Jonathan Lane and “Colonel Henry Knox”; a commemorative quilt sown by volunteers at the Framingham History Center; miniature of Henry Knox, Metropolitan Museum of Art.

There’s one more big Knox event if you are in the area: “To Win the Siege: the Noble Train Arrives” at the Hartwell Tavern within the Minute Man National Historic Park on February 21st.


The Revolution in Color

I decided to celebrate the debut of Ken Burns’ new series on the American Revolution by getting out two old books which I always enjoy browsing through, and which I now realize were quite foundational in how I look (and I do mean look) at American history in particular and history in general. The two books are The Pictorial History of the American Revolution by Rupert Furneaux and The Colonial Spirit of ’76 by David C. Whitney, and they were both published for the Bicentennial by Ferguson Publishing of Chicago with ample illustrations, including watercolors of noted Revolutionary spaces and places by “visual artist” Kay Smith. That’s how she is always described, and she died just this year at age 102! Every time I look at her watercolor buildings, I remember when I saw them for the first time; it happened just yesterday when I took the books out. And so it has finally dawned on me that my lifelong pursuit of history through houses began with her. The two books have lots of other cool illustrations too, including prints of every single tavern along the eastern seaboard which has any sort of Revolutionary connection, but Kay provides most of the color. I don’t know about reading these books—they’re definitely rather dated and devoted to storytelling rather than multi-causal analysis, but they are fun to look at. No Salem at all, sadly: colonial capital or Leslie’s Retreat or privateers. The Pictorial History has a chronological/geographical format and the Colonial Spirit is supposed to be more of a social history, I think, but its basic structure is biographical. Here are some of my favorite illustrations—all by Kay Smith, and most of buildings, of course—from Boston to Yorktown.

Kay Smith could depict people too—-her take on Major Andre’s famous sketch of Peggy Shippen Arnold is very charming. Interesting illustrations are scattered throughout both books liberally: uniforms, of course, firearms, vignettes of “daily life,” a great presentation of a Declaration of Independence cover sheet juxtaposed with a facsmimile of Thomas Jefferson’s hand-written and -corrected copy (used by Burns at the opening of episode one of The American Revolution). These books made for just as pleasurable browsing as all those years ago. And what do we think of the latest take on the Revolution?