Center for Teaching the Rule of Law

September 13, 1782 – During the American Revolutionary War, Franco-Spanish troops launch the unsuccessful "grand assault" during the Great Siege of Gibraltar . . . Wait?  During which war?

9/13/2021

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Picture Grand Assault on Gibraltar showing the allied lines and a detonation of one of the floating batteries
"Where was the American Revolution fought?" The question probably sounds as obvious and pointless as "who is buried in Grant's Tomb?"  Except of course, that the answer to both questions is not as straightforward as many would assume.  With respect to Grant's Tomb, the correct answer would be Ulysses S. Grant and his widow Julia (and, while there is some doubt, apparently their dog as well).

The issue of where the American Revolution was fought is also somewhat convoluted.  Certainly it was fought principally within the confines of what is now known as the United States of America, but at the time of the war, there was no clear agreement on what the United States of America was.  We often forget that by 1774, the British colonial interests in North America included not just the "13 Colonies," but also "Canada" (itself divided into Upper and Lower divisions for administrative purposes, with the borders of these rather ill-defined), East and West Florida, the latter containing very little of what is today Florida and a great deal of what we think of as "New France" as well as possibly parts of Texas.  And then there is "New Connecticut," the "New Hampshire Grants" and "Vermont," which, depending on who you ask, are either all the same or really quite different places.  Maine of course. ar at least half of it, was part of Massachusetts, the rest being part of Canada. And let's not forget that before, during and after the revolution, Pennsylvania, New York, Connecticut, Delaware, Maryland and Virginia were contesting, both legally and occasionally military, the borders of their territories during the three Pennamite–Yankee Wars.

Then of course, there was the war at sea - or has naval historians would have it, "the Real Revolutionary War."  Naval historians maintain that all the land battles of the revolution were superfluous to its outcome, which ultimately depended on naval strength.  Although Britain undoubtedly had the strongest nave in the world at the time, it was also charged with administering a vast colonial empire which touched every ocean.  As a result, it found it difficult to concentrate its navel forces or to devote significant forces to an one conflict for an extended period of time.  While the fledgling Continental navy could not have contested against the British alone, not withstanding the superb seamanship of John Paul Jones, the French and Spanish fleets, although broadly committed to their own colonial interests, were available to balance the scales.

And it is from this Franco-Spanish commitment to aid the colonies comes the story of what might be called the only land battle of the American Revolution that took place on European soil (even this is debatable, however, depending on whether the Channel Islands are considered "European" or "British" -- so let's agree that it was the only battle of the Revolution fought on the European continent. 

On June 29, 1779, French and Spanish forces invested the British colony of Gibraltar at the southern tip of Spain.  By controlling Gibraltar, the British control the entrance to the Mediterranean.  While Spanish forces (later reinforced by French troops) maintain a blockade of the land side, naval forces of both the Spanish and French were able to maintain only a limited blockade of the seaward approach.  

Contrary to popular belief, the surrender of the British at Yorktown on October 19, 1781 did not end the American Revolution.  It was not even the last battle to be fought on American soil.  However, it was the battle which forced the British to sue for peace and but mid-1782 it was all but certain that a permanent peace treat was going to be approved, meaning the France and Spain would lose their "casus belli" against the British with very little to show for their effort in supporting the colonies (indeed, loses in the Caribbean, Central America and India meant the two nations were probably emerging from the war with less than they started with).

So it was that in September 1782 the French and Spanish launched an audacious plan to seize Gibraltar with a combined navel and land attack using an entirely new tactic.  French engineers proposed to reduce the land batteries of the fortress by using massive floating batteries to pound the British into submission.  This plan was know as the "Grand Assault" and would employ more troops and artillery than had been engaged at any point during the conflict on American soil.  

For the allies it was becoming clear that the recent blockades had been a complete failure and that an attack by land would be impossible. Ideas were put forward to break the siege once and for all. The plan was proposed that a squadron of battery ships should take on the British land-based batteries and pound them into submission by numbers and weight of shots fired, before a storming party attacked from the siege works on the Isthmus and further troops were put ashore from the waiting Spanish fleet. The French engineer Jean Le Michaud d'Arçon invented and designed the floating batteries—'unsinkable' and 'unburnable'—intended to attack from the sea in tandem with other batteries bombarding the British from land.

The floating batteries would have strong, thick wooden armor—1-metre-wide timbers packed with layers of wet sand, with water pumped over them to avoid fire breaking out. In addition old cables would also deaden the fall of British shot and, as ballast, would counterbalance the guns' weight. Guns were to be fired from one side only; the starboard battery was removed completely and the port battery heavily augmented with timber and sand infill. The ten floating batteries would be supported by ships of the line and bomb ships, which would try to draw away and split up the British fire. Five batteries each with two rows of guns, together with five smaller batteries each with a single row, would provide a total of 150 guns. The Spanish enthusiastically received the proposal. D'Arçon sailed close to shore under enemy fire in a skiff to get more accurate intelligence.

On 13 September 1782 the Bourbon allies launched their great attack: 5,260 fighting men, both French and Spanish, aboard ten of the newly engineered 'floating batteries' with 138 to 212 heavy guns under the command of Don Buenaventura Moreno. Also in support were the combined Spanish and French fleet, which consisted of 49 ships of the line, 40 Spanish gunboats and 20 bomb-vessels, manned by a total of 30,000 sailors and marines under the command of Spanish Admiral Luis de Córdova. They were supported by 86 land guns and 35,000 Spanish and 7,000–8,000 French troops on land, intending to assault the fortifications once they had been demolished. An 'army' of over 80,000 spectators thronged the adjacent hills on the Spanish side, expecting to see the fortress beaten to powder and 'the British flag trailed in the dust.' Among them were the highest families in the land, including the Comte D'Artois.

The batteries slowly moved forward along the bay and one by one the 138 guns opened fire, but soon events did not go according to plan. The alignments were not correct: the two lead ships Pastora and the Tala Piedra moved further ahead than they should have. When they opened fire on their main target, the King's Battery, the British guns replied, but the cannonballs were observed to bounce off their hulls. Eventually the Spanish junks were anchored on the sandbanks near the Mole but were too spread out to create any significant damage to the British walls.

Meanwhile, after weeks of preparatory artillery fire, the 200 heavy-caliber Spanish and French guns opened up on the land side from the North directed onto the fortifications. This caused some casualties and damage, but by noon the artificers had heated up red-hot shot. Once the shot were ready, Elliot ordered them to be fired. At first the heated shot made no difference, as many were doused on board the floating batteries.

Although the batteries had anchored, a number had soon grounded and began to suffer damage to their rigging and masts. The King's Bastion blasted away at the closest ships, the Pastora and the Talla Piedra, and soon the British guns began to have an effect. Smoke was spotted coming from Talla Piedra, already severely damaged and its rigging in tatters. Panic ensued since no vessel could come and support her; nor was there any way for the ship to escape. Meanwhile, the Pastora under the Prince de Nassau began to emit a huge amount of smoke. Despite efforts to find the cause, the sailors on board were fighting a losing battle. To make matters worse, the Spanish land guns had ceased firing. It soon became apparent to de Crillon that the Spanish army had run out of powder and were already low on shot. By nightfall it was clear that the assault had failed, but worse was to come, because the fire on the two batteries was out of control. To add to de Crillon's frustration, de Córdova's ships of the line failed to move in support, and neither did Barcelo's vessels. De Crillon, acknowledging defeat and not wishing to upset the Spanish by issuing demands, soon ordered the floating batteries to be scuttled and the crews rescued. Rockets were sent up from the batteries as distress signals.

During this operation, Roger Curtis, the British naval commander, seeing the attacking force in great danger, warned Elliot about the huge potential death toll and that something must be done. Elliot agreed and had the fleet of twelve gunboats under Curtis set out with 250 men. They headed towards the Spanish gunboats, firing as they advanced, after which the Spanish precipitated a quick retreat.

Curtis's gunboats reached the batteries and one by one took them; but this soon turned into a rescue effort when they realized from prisoners that many men were still on board with the scuttling now taking place. British marines and sailors then stormed the Pastora, taking the men on board as prisoners and eventually pulled them off the doomed ship, having also seized the Spanish Royal Standard which had been flying from the stern. As this was going on, the flames that had engulfed Talla Piedra soon reached the magazine. The ensuing explosion was tremendous, with a sound that reverberated around the bay and a huge mushroom cloud of smoke and debris that rose up in the air. Many were killed on board, but the British had few casualties. The Spanish, now in panic, all reached for the British boats by jumping in the water.

Soon the Pastora, engulfed in a mass of flames, followed the fate of the Talla Piedra. The latter burnt to the water's edge and sank about 1:00 am on 14 September after having lain upwards of fourteen hours under the fire of Gibraltar. The fire reached the powder magazine and another huge explosion ensued. This time many in the water were killed outright; a British boat was sunk and the coxswain of Curtis's boat was killed when hit by debris. Nassau, Littlepage and the surviving crew managed to make their way back to shore.

Curtis realized that it was unsafe to be near the flaming batteries and soon withdrew men from two more floating batteries engulfed in flame, then finally ordered a withdrawal. The rescue operation was hindered further when Spanish batteries opened fire after receiving more powder and shot. Many more men drowned or were burned in the ensuing inferno; others were hit by their own artillery. The Spanish ceased fire only when the mistake was realized, but it was too late. The rest of the Spanish batteries blew up in similar horrific style; the explosions lofted huge mushroom clouds that rose nearly 1,000 feet in the air. Some men were still on board and those that had jumped overboard often drowned as the vast majority couldn't swim. By the early hours of the morning only two floating batteries remained. A Spanish felucca tried to set one on fire but was driven off by British guns. The two were promptly set alight by them and were finished in the same way as the others by the afternoon.

By 4:00 am, all the floating batteries had been sunk, leaving the Gibraltar waterfront a mass of debris and bodies from the wrecked Spanish ships. During the Grand Assault 40,000 rounds had been fired. Casualties in just twelve hours were heavy: 719 men on board the ships (many of whom drowned) were casualties.

Curtis had rescued a further 357 officers and men, who thus became prisoners, while in the siege lines more casualties brought up the allied total to 1,473 men for the Grand Assault, with all ten floating batteries destroyed.[106] The engagement was the fiercest battle of the American Revolutionary War. The British lost 15 killed and 68 men were wounded, nearly half of them from the Royal Artillery. A Royal Marine who had taken Pastora's large Spanish color later presented it to Elliot.

One of the survivors who had been on a floating battery that had blown up was Louis Littlepage. He was saved and managed to get back to the Spanish fleet.

For Elliot and the garrison it was a great victory and for the allies it was a brutal defeat, with their plans and hopes in tatters. De Córdova was heavily criticized for not coming to help the batteries, while d'Arçon and de Crillon threw accusations and recriminations at each other. In Spain the news was met with consternation and despair. The huge crowds that had been promised a crushing victory left the area chagrined.

On 14 September 1782, the assault by the allies by land which was supposed to have been a "mopping up" operation was initially going to be attempted. The Spanish army formed up behind the batteries at the northern end of the Isthmus. At the same time, the Spanish ships moved across the bay, packed with more troops. However, de Crillon cancelled the assault, judging that losses would have been huge. Gibraltar nevertheless remained under siege, but Spanish bombardments decreased to about 200 rounds a day as both sides knew of the impending peace treaty.

From 20 September, reports of the great French and Spanish assault on Gibraltar began to reach Paris. By 27 September it was clear that the operation, involving more troops than had ever been in service at one time on the entire North American continent, had been a horrific disaster. In Madrid news of the failure was received with dismay; the King was in mute despair as he read the intelligence reports at the Palace of San Ildefonso. The French had done all they could to help the Spanish achieve their essential war aim, and began serious discussions on alternative exit strategies, urging Spain to offer Britain some very large concessions in return for Gibraltar.

News also reached the British, ecstatic at the outcome, and at the same time just as John Jay submitted his draft treaty. The British promptly stiffened their terms, flatly refusing to cede land north of the old border with Canada. They also insisted that the Americans pay their national pre-war debt to the British or compensate Loyalists for their seized property. As a result, the Americans were forced to agree to these terms, and their Northern frontier was established along the line of the Great Lakes. Preliminary Articles of Peace were to be signed between the two on 30 November.


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September 11, 1776 – British–American peace conference on Staten Island fails to stop nascent American Revolutionary War.

9/11/2021

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The Staten Island Peace Conference was a brief informal diplomatic conference held between representatives of the British Crown and its rebellious North American colonies in the hope of bringing a rapid end to the nascent American Revolution. The conference took place on September 11, 1776, a few days after the British had captured Long Island and less than three months after the formal American Declaration of Independence. The conference was held at Billop Manor, the residence of loyalist Colonel Christopher Billop, on Staten Island, New York. The participants were the British Admiral Lord Richard Howe, and members of the Second Continental Congress John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, and Edward Rutledge.

Upon being placed in command of British land forces in the Colonies, Lord Howe had sought authority to resolve the conflict peacefully. However, his power to negotiate was by design extremely limited, which left the Congressional delegation pessimistic over a summary resolution. The Americans insisted on recognition of their recently-declared independence, which Howe was unable to grant. After just three hours, the delegates retired, and the British resumed their military campaign to control New York City.

When British authorities were planning how to deal with their rebellious North American colonies in late 1775 and early 1776, they decided to send a large military expedition to occupy New York City. Two brothers, Admiral Lord Richard Howe and General William Howe, were given command of the naval and land aspects of the operation respectively. Since they believed that it might still be possible to end the dispute without further violence, the Howe brothers insisted on being granted diplomatic powers in addition to their military roles.

Admiral Howe had previously discussed colonial grievances informally with Benjamin Franklin in 1774 and 1775, without resolution. General Howe believed that the problem of colonial taxation could be resolved with the retention of the supremacy of Parliament.

At first, King George III reluctantly agreed to grant the Howes limited powers, but Lord George Germain took a harder line by insisting for the Howes not to be given any powers that might be seen as giving in to the colonial demands for relief from taxation without representation or the so-called Intolerable Acts. As a consequence, the Howes were granted the ability only to issue pardons and amnesties, not to make any substantive concessions.[1] The commissioners were also mandated to seek dissolution of the Continental Congress, the re-establishment of the prewar colonial assemblies, the acceptance of the terms of Lord North's Conciliatory Resolution regarding self-taxation, and the promise of a further discussion of colonial grievances. No concessions could be made unless hostilities were ended, and colonial assemblies made specific admissions of parliamentary supremacy.

After the fleet arrived in July 1776, Admiral Howe made several attempts to open communications with Continental Army General George Washington. Two attempts to deliver letters to Washington were rebuffed because Howe had refused to recognize Washington's title. Washington, however, agreed to meet in person with one of Howe's adjutants, Colonel James Patterson. In the meeting on July 20, Washington learned that the Howes' diplomatic powers were essentially limited to the granting of pardons; Washington responded that the Americans had not committed any faults and so did not need pardons.

Lord Howe then sent a letter to Benjamin Franklin that detailed a proposal for a truce and offers of pardons. After Franklin read the letter in Congress on July 30, he wrote back to the Admiral, "Directing pardons to be offered to the colonies, who are the very parties injured,... can have no other effect than that of increasing our resentments. It is impossible we should think of submission to a government that has with the most wanton barbarity and cruelty burnt our defenseless town,... excited the savages to massacre our peaceful farmers, and our slaves to murder their masters, and is even now bringing foreign mercenaries to deluge our settlements with blood." He also pointed out that "you once gave me expectations that reconciliation might take place." Howe was apparently somewhat taken aback by Franklin's forceful response.

During the Battle of Long Island on August 27, 1776, British forces successfully occupied western Long Island (modern Brooklyn), which compelled Washington to withdraw his army to Manhattan. General Howe then paused to consolidate his gains, and the brothers decided to make a diplomatic overture. During the battle, they had captured several high-ranking Continental Army officers, including Major General John Sullivan. The Howes managed to convince Sullivan that a conference with members of the Continental Congress might yield fruit and released him on parole to deliver a message to the Congress in Philadelphia that proposed an informal meeting to discuss ending the armed conflict between Britain and its rebellious colonies. After Sullivan's speech to Congress, John Adams cynically commented on this diplomatic attempt by calling Sullivan a "decoy-duck" and accusing the British of sending Sullivan "to seduce us into a renunciation of our independence." Others noted that it appeared to be an attempt to blame Congress for prolonging the war.

Congress, however, agreed to send three of its members (Adams, Benjamin Franklin, and Edward Rutledge) to a conference with Lord Howe. They were instructed "to ask a few Questions and take [Howe's] Answers" but had no further authority. When Howe learned of the committee's limited authority, he briefly considered calling the meeting off but decided to proceed after he had discussed with his brother. None of the commissioners believed that the conference would amount to anything.

Lord Howe initially sought to meet with the men as private citizens since British policy did not recognize the Congress as a legitimate authority. For the conference to take place, he agreed to the American demand to be recognized as official representatives of the Congress.

he house of Christopher Billop, on Staten Island, was selected to be the meeting place. It had been occupied by British troops for use as a barracks and was in filthy condition, but one room was cleaned and prepared for the meeting. The arrangements included one British officer to be left on the American side as a hostage during the meeting. The congressional delegation, rather than leaving him behind the American lines, invited him to accompany them. On arrival, the delegation was escorted past a line of Hessian soldiers and into the house, where, according to Adams, a repast of claret, ham, mutton, and tongue was served.

The meeting lasted three hours, but both sides were unable to find any common ground. The Americans insisted that any negotiations required the British recognition of their recently-declared independence. Lord Howe stated that he did not have the authority to meet that demand. When asked by Edward Rutledge whether he had the authority to repeal the Prohibitory Act, which authorized a naval blockade of the colonies, as had been claimed by Sullivan, Howe demurred and claimed that Sullivan was mistaken. Howe's authority included the ability to suspend its execution if the colonies agreed to make fixed contributions, instead of the taxes that Parliament had levied on them. None of that could be done unless the colonies first agreed to end hostilities.

For most of the meeting, both sides were cordial. However, when Lord Howe expressed that he would feel America's loss "like the loss of a brother," Franklin informed him that "we will do our utmost endeavors to save your lordship that mortification."

Lord Howe unhappily stated that he could not view the American delegates as anything but British subjects. Adams replied, "Your lordship may consider me in what light you please,... except that of a British subject." Lord Howe then spoke past Adams to Franklin and Rutledge: "Mr. Adams appears to be a decided character."

The Congressmen returned to Philadelphia and reported that Lord Howe "has no propositions to make us" and that "America is to expect nothing but total unconditional submission." John Adams learned many years later that his name was on a list of people who were specifically excluded from any pardon offers the Howes might make. Congress published the committee's report without comment. Because Lord Howe did not also publish an account of the meeting, the meeting's outcome was perceived by many as a sign of British weakness, but many Loyalists and some British observers suspected that the Congressional report had misrepresented the meeting.

One British commentator wrote of the meeting: "They met, they talked, they parted. And now nothing remains but to fight it out." Lord Howe reported the failure of the conference to his brother, and both made preparations to continue the campaign for New York City. Four days after the conference, British troops landed on Manhattan and occupied New York City.

Parliamentary debate over the terms of the diplomatic mission and its actions prompted some opposition Whig members essentially to boycott parliamentary proceedings. The next major peace effort occurred in 1778, when the British sent commissioners led by the Earl of Carlisle to occupied Philadelphia. They were authorized to treat with Congress as a body and offered self-government that was roughly equivalent to dominion status. The effort was undermined by the planned withdrawal of British troops from Philadelphia and by American demands that the commissioners were not authorized to grant.

The house in which the conference took place is now preserved as a museum within Conference House Park, a city park. It is a National Historic Landmark, and is listed on the National Register of Historic Places.


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September 5, 1774 – First Continental Congress assembles in Philadelphia.

9/5/2021

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PictureCarpenter's Hall -- Meeting Place of the First Continental Congress
The First Continental Congress met briefly in Carpenter's Hall in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, from September 5 to October 26, 1774. Delegates from twelve of the thirteen colonies that would ultimately join in the Revolutionary War participated. Only Georgia, where Loyalist feelings still outweighed Patriotic emotion, and which relied upon Great Britain for military supplies to defend settlers against possible Indian attacks, did not. Altogether, 56 delegates attended, including George Washington, Patrick Henry, and John Adams. Other notable delegates included Samuel Adams from Massachusetts Bay, along with Joseph Galloway and John Dickinson from the Pennsylvania. Peyton Randolph of Virginia was its president.

Benjamin Franklin had put forth the idea of such a meeting the year before, but he was unable to convince the colonies of its necessity until the British Navy instituted a blockade of Boston Harbor and Parliament passed the punitive Intolerable Acts in 1774 in response to the Boston Tea Party. During the congress, delegates organized an economic boycott of Great Britain in protest and petitioned the King for a redress of grievances. The colonies were united in their effort to demonstrate to the mother country their authority by virtue of their common causes and their unity; but their ultimate objectives were not consistent. Most delegates were not yet ready to break away from Great Britain, but they most definitely wanted the king and parliament to act in what they considered a fairer manner. Delegates from the provinces of Pennsylvania and New York were given firm instructions to pursue a resolution with Great Britain. While the other colonies all held the idea of colonial rights as paramount, they were split between those who sought legislative equality with Britain and those who instead favored independence and a break from the Crown and its excesses.

The primary accomplishment of the First Continental Congress was a compact among the colonies to boycott British goods beginning on December 1, 1774, unless parliament should rescind the Intolerable Acts. While delegates convened in the First Continental Congress, fifty-one women in Edenton, North Carolina formed their own association in response to the Intolerable Acts that focused on producing goods for the colonies. Additionally, Great Britain's colonies in the West Indies were threatened with a boycott unless they agreed to non-importation of British goods. Imports from Britain dropped by 97 percent in 1775, compared with the previous year. Committees of observation and inspection were to be formed in each Colony to ensure compliance with the boycott. It was further agreed that if the Intolerable Acts were not repealed, the colonies would also cease exports to Britain after September 10, 1775.

The Houses of Assembly of each participating colony approved the proceedings of the Congress, with the exception of New York. The boycott was successfully implemented, but its potential for altering British colonial policy was cut off by the outbreak of hostilities in April 1775. Congress also voted to meet again the following year if their grievances were not addressed satisfactorily. Anticipating that there would be cause to convene a second congress, delegates resolved to send letters of invitation to those colonies that had not joined them in Philadelphia, including: Quebec, Saint John's Island, Nova Scotia, Georgia, East Florida, and West Florida.[ Of these, only Georgia would ultimately send delegates to the next Congress.

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September 1, 1752 - The "Liberty Bell" arrives in Philadelphia - sort of - maybe

9/1/2021

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Given its unique place in American culture, it is surprising how little is know of the early history of the "Liberty Bell."  In the date that it first arrived in the city of Philadelphia is not certain, although most sources agree it was sometime in late August or Early September of 1752.  Of course, the arrival of a bell by ship from England, even one the size of the Liberty Bell, was not an uncommon thing and at the time no one realized the significance the bell would play in American History, so it is perhaps not unusual that it's arrival was not recorded with specificity.

Philadelphia's city bell had been used to alert the public to proclamations or civic danger since the city's 1682 founding. The original bell hung from a tree behind the Pennsylvania State House (now known as Independence Hall) and was said to have been brought to the city by its founder, William Penn. In 1751, with a bell tower being built in the Pennsylvania State House, civic authorities sought a bell of better quality that could be heard at a greater distance in the rapidly expanding city. Isaac Norris, speaker of the Pennsylvania Provincial Assembly, gave orders to the colony's London agent, Robert Charles, to obtain a "good Bell of about two thousands pound weight".

The bell was to contain an inscription quoting Leviticus ch. 24 v. 10, "Proclaim LIBERTY Throughout all the Land unto all the Inhabitants Thereof."  Thus began one of the first great myths of the bell, which was that it's inscription was an early statement of colonial desire for independence from England.  However, there is no evidence as to why this particular verse was chosen and at the time there was very little sentiment for independence.  Rather, the prevailing view was that the colonies should be afford equality with, rather than independence from, Great Britain.

Upon its arrival in Philadelphia, the bell was mounted on a stand to test the sound, and at the first strike of the clapper, the bell's rim cracked.  Philadelphia authorities tried to return it by ship, but the master of the vessel that had brought it was unable (or refused) to take it on board.  Thus it had to be recast by a local foundrymen, Pass and Stow.  Though they were inexperienced in bell casting, Pass had headed the Mount Holly Iron Foundry in neighboring New Jersey and came from Malta that had a tradition of bell casting. Stow, on the other hand, was only four years out of his apprenticeship as a brass founder. At Stow's foundry on Second Street, the bell was broken into small pieces, melted down, and cast into a new bell. The two founders decided that the metal was too brittle, and augmented the bell metal by about ten percent, using copper. The bell was ready in March 1753, and Norris reported that the lettering (that included the founders' names and the year) was even clearer on the new bell than on the old.

This we come to the second myth, or perhaps we should say controversy, over the bell.  Because the bell was broken into pieces and entirely recast with additional ore, was it in fact the same bell or a new bell?  The question is more important than a mere sophistry would suggest, because the "English" or "American" nature of the bell became a political tool for, among others, former President Benjamin Harrison, who, speaking as the bell passed through Indianapolis, stated, "This old bell was made in England, but it had to be re-cast in America before it was attuned to proclaim the right of self-government and the equal rights of men."  Accordingly the first (yes, first) recasting of the bell became symbolic well after the fact, with some even claiming that the bell had been deliberately made with poor quality ore to make the bell's proclamation of Liberty to "ring hollow" and it's  recasting was a message to the old country that Americans could take what was English and make it better.  The truth is more likely that the bell's original casters were cutting corners and used inferior ore to reduce expenses.

City officials scheduled a public celebration with free food and drink for the testing of the recast bell. When the bell was struck, it did not break, but the sound produced was described by one hearer as like two coal scuttles being banged together. Mocked by the crowd, Pass and Stow hastily took the bell away and again recast it. When the fruit of the two founders' renewed efforts was brought forth in June 1753, the sound was deemed satisfactory, though Norris indicated that he did not personally like it. The bell was hung in the steeple of the State House the same month.

Dissatisfied with the bell, Norris instructed Charles to order a second one, and see if Lester and Pack would take back the first bell and credit the value of the metal towards the bill. In 1754, the Assembly decided to keep both bells; the new one was attached to the tower clock while the old bell was, by vote of the Assembly, devoted "to such Uses as this House may hereafter appoint." The Pass and Stow bell was used to summon the Assembly.[19] One of the earliest documented mentions of the bell's use is in a letter from Benjamin Franklin to Catherine Ray dated October 16, 1755: "Adieu. The Bell rings, and I must go among the Grave ones, and talk Politiks." The bell was rung in 1760 to mark the accession of George III to the throne. In the early 1760s, the Assembly allowed a local church to use the State House for services and the bell to summon worshipers, while the church's building was being constructed.[20] The bell was also used to summon people to public meetings, and in 1772, a group of citizens complained to the Assembly that the bell was being rung too frequently.

Despite the legends that have grown up about the Liberty Bell, it did not ring on July 4, 1776 (at least not for any reason connected with independence), as no public announcement was made of the Declaration of Independence. When the Declaration was publicly read on July 8, 1776, there was a ringing of bells, and while there is no contemporary account of this particular bell ringing, most authorities agree that the Liberty Bell was among the bells that rang. However, there is some chance that the poor condition of the State House bell tower prevented the bell from ringing.

After Washington's defeat at the Battle of Brandywine on September 11, 1777, the revolutionary capital of Philadelphia was defenseless, and the city prepared for what was seen as an inevitable British attack. Bells could easily be recast into munitions, and locals feared the Liberty Bell and other bells would meet this fate. The bell was hastily taken down from the tower, and sent by heavily guarded wagon train to the town of Bethlehem. Local wagoneers transported the bell to the Zion German Reformed Church in Northampton Town, now Allentown, where it waited out the British occupation of Philadelphia under the church floor boards. It was returned to Philadelphia in June 1778, after the British departure. With the steeple of the State House in poor condition (the steeple was subsequently torn down and later restored), the bell was placed in storage, and it was not until 1785 that it was again mounted for ringing.

Placed on an upper floor of the State House, the bell was rung in the early years of independence on the Fourth of July and on Washington's Birthday, as well as on Election Day to remind voters to hand in their ballots. It also rang to call students at the University of Pennsylvania to their classes at nearby Philosophical Hall. Until 1799, when the state capital was moved to Lancaster, it again rang to summon legislators into session. When Pennsylvania, having no further use for its State House, proposed to tear it down and sell the land for building lots, the City of Philadelphia purchased the land, together with the building, including the bell, for $70,000, equal to $1,067,431 today. In 1828, the city sold the second Lester and Pack bell to St. Augustine's Roman Catholic Church that was burned down by an anti-Catholic mob in the Philadelphia Nativist Riots of 1844. The remains of the bell were recast; the new bell is now located at Villanova University.

It is uncertain how the bell came to be cracked; the damage occurred sometime between 1817 and 1846. The bell is mentioned in a number of newspaper articles during that time; no mention of a crack can be found until 1846. In fact, in 1837, the bell was depicted in an anti-slavery publication—uncracked. In February 1846 Public Ledger reported that the bell had been rung on February 23, 1846, in celebration of Washington's Birthday (as February 22 fell on a Sunday, the celebration occurred the next day), and also reported that the bell had long been cracked, but had been "put in order" by having the sides of the crack filed. The paper reported that around noon, it was discovered that the ringing had caused the crack to be greatly extended, and that "the old Independence Bell ... now hangs in the great city steeple irreparably cracked and forever dumb".

The most common story about the cracking of the bell is that it happened when the bell was rung upon the 1835 death of the Chief Justice of the United States, John Marshall. This story originated in 1876, when the volunteer curator of Independence Hall, Colonel Frank Etting, announced that he had ascertained the truth of the story. While there is little evidence to support this view, it has been widely accepted and taught. Other claims regarding the crack in the bell include stories that it was damaged while welcoming Lafayette on his return to the United States in 1824, that it cracked announcing the passing of the British Catholic Relief Act 1829, and that some boys had been invited to ring the bell, and inadvertently damaged it. David Kimball, in his book compiled for the National Park Service, suggests that it most likely cracked sometime between 1841 and 1845, either on the Fourth of July or on Washington's Birthday.

The Pass and Stow bell was first termed "the Liberty Bell" in the New York Anti-Slavery Society's journal, Anti-Slavery Record. In an 1835 piece, "The Liberty Bell", Philadelphians were castigated for not doing more for the abolitionist cause. Two years later, in another work of that society, the journal Liberty featured an image of the bell as its frontispiece, with the words "Proclaim Liberty". In 1839, Boston's Friends of Liberty, another abolitionist group, titled their journal The Liberty Bell. The same year, William Lloyd Garrison's anti-slavery publication The Liberator reprinted a Boston abolitionist pamphlet containing a poem entitled "The Liberty Bell" that noted that, at that time, despite its inscription, the bell did not proclaim liberty to all the inhabitants of the land.

A great part of the modern image of the bell as a relic of the proclamation of American independence was forged by writer George Lippard. On January 2, 1847, his story "Fourth of July, 1776" appeared in the Saturday Courier. The short story depicted an aged bellman on July 4, 1776, sitting morosely by the bell, fearing that Congress would not have the courage to declare independence. At the most dramatic moment, a young boy appears with instructions for the old man: to ring the bell. It was subsequently published in Lippard's collected stories. The story was widely reprinted and closely linked the Liberty Bell to the Declaration of Independence in the public mind. The elements of the story were reprinted in early historian Benson J. Lossing's The Pictorial Field Guide to the Revolution (published in 1850) as historical fact,[38] and the tale was widely repeated for generations after in school primers.

In 1848, with the rise of interest in the bell, the city decided to move it to the Assembly Room (also known as the Declaration Chamber) on the first floor, where the Declaration and United States Constitution had been debated and signed. The city constructed an ornate pedestal for the bell. The Liberty Bell was displayed on that pedestal for the next quarter-century, surmounted by an eagle (originally sculpted, later stuffed). In 1853, President Franklin Pierce visited Philadelphia and the bell, and spoke of the bell as symbolizing the American Revolution and American liberty. At the time, Independence Hall was also used as a courthouse, and African-American newspapers pointed out the incongruity of housing a symbol of liberty in the same building in which federal judges were holding hearings under the Fugitive Slave Act.

In February 1861, the President-elect, Abraham Lincoln, came to the Assembly Room and delivered an address en route to his inauguration in Washington DC. In 1865, Lincoln's body was returned to the Assembly Room after his assassination for a public viewing of his body, en route to his burial in Springfield, Illinois. Due to time constraints, only a small fraction of those wishing to pass by the coffin were able to; the lines to see the coffin were never less than 3 miles (4.8 km) long. Nevertheless, between 120,000 and 140,000 people were able to pass by the open casket and then the bell, carefully placed at Lincoln's head so mourners could read the inscription, "Proclaim Liberty throughout all the land unto all the inhabitants thereof."

In 1876, city officials discussed what role the bell should play in the nation's Centennial festivities. Some wanted to repair it so it could sound at the Centennial Exposition being held in Philadelphia, but the idea was not adopted; the bell's custodians concluded that it was unlikely that the metal could be made into a bell that would have a pleasant sound, and that the crack had become part of the bell's character. Instead, a replica weighing 13,000 pounds (5,900 kg) (1,000 pounds for each of the original states) was cast. The metal used for what was dubbed "the Centennial Bell" included four melted-down cannons: one used by each side in the American Revolutionary War, and one used by each side in the Civil War. That bell was sounded at the Exposition grounds on July 4, 1876, was later recast to improve the sound, and today is the bell attached to the clock in the steeple of Independence Hall. While the Liberty Bell did not go to the Exposition, a great many Exposition visitors came to visit it, and its image was ubiquitous at the Exposition grounds—myriad souvenirs were sold bearing its image or shape, and state pavilions contained replicas of the bell made of substances ranging from stone to tobacco. In 1877, the bell was hung from the ceiling of the Assembly Room by a chain with thirteen links.

Between 1885 and 1915, the Liberty Bell made seven trips to various expositions and celebrations. Each time, the bell traveled by rail, making a large number of stops along the way so that local people could view it. By 1885, the Liberty Bell was widely recognized as a symbol of freedom, and as a treasured relic of Independence, and was growing still more famous as versions of Lippard's legend were reprinted in history and school books. In early 1885, the city agreed to let it travel to New Orleans for the World Cotton Centennial exposition. Large crowds mobbed the bell at each stop. In Biloxi, Mississippi, the former President of the Confederate States of America, Jefferson Davis came to the bell. Davis delivered a speech paying homage to it, and urging national unity.[51] In 1893, it was sent to Chicago's World Columbian Exposition to be the centerpiece of the state's exhibit in the Pennsylvania Building. On July 4, 1893, in Chicago, the bell was serenaded with the first performance of The Liberty Bell March, conducted by "America's Bandleader", John Philip Sousa. Philadelphians began to cool to the idea of sending it to other cities when it returned from Chicago bearing a new crack, and each new proposed journey met with increasing opposition. It was also found that the bell's private watchman had been cutting off small pieces for souvenirs. The city placed the bell in a glass-fronted oak case. In 1898, it was taken out of the glass case and hung from its yoke again in the tower hall of Independence Hall, a room that would remain its home until the end of 1975. A guard was posted to discourage souvenir hunters who might otherwise chip at it.

By 1909, the bell had made six trips, and not only had the cracking become worse, but souvenir hunters had deprived it of over one percent of its weight. (Its weight was reported as 2,080 lb (940 kg) in 1904. When, in 1912, the organizers of the Panama-Pacific International Exposition requested the bell for the 1915 fair in San Francisco, the city was reluctant to let it travel again. The city finally decided to let it go as the bell had never been west of St. Louis, and it was a chance to bring it to millions who might never see it otherwise. However, in 1914, fearing that the cracks might lengthen during the long train ride, the city installed a metal support structure inside the bell, generally called the "spider." In February 1915, the bell was tapped gently with wooden mallets to produce sounds that were transmitted to the fair as the signal to open it, a transmission that also inaugurated transcontinental telephone service. Some five million Americans saw the bell on its train journey west. It is estimated that nearly two million kissed it at the fair, with an uncounted number viewing it. The bell was taken on a different route on its way home; again, five million saw it on the return journey. Since the bell returned to Philadelphia, it has been moved out of doors only five times: three times for patriotic observances during and after World War I, and twice as the bell occupied new homes in 1976 and 2003. Chicago and San Francisco had obtained its presence after presenting petitions signed by hundreds of thousands of children. Chicago tried again, with a petition signed by 3.4 million schoolchildren, for the 1933 Century of Progress Exhibition and New York presented a petition to secure a visit from the bell for the 1939 New York World's Fair. Both efforts failed.

In 1924, one of Independence Hall's exterior doors was replaced by glass, allowing some view of the bell even when the building was closed. When Congress enacted the nation's first peacetime draft in 1940, the first Philadelphians required to serve took their oaths of enlistment before the Liberty Bell. Once the war started, the bell was again a symbol, used to sell war bonds. In the early days of World War II, it was feared that the bell might be in danger from saboteurs or enemy bombing, and city officials considered moving the bell to Fort Knox, to be stored with the nation's gold reserves. The idea provoked a storm of protest from around the nation, and was abandoned. Officials then considered building an underground steel vault above which it would be displayed, and into which it could be lowered if necessary. The project was dropped when studies found that the digging might undermine the foundations of Independence Hall. On December 17, 1944, the Whitechapel Bell Foundry offered to recast the bell at no cost as a gesture of Anglo-American friendship. The bell was again tapped on D-Day, as well as in victory on V-E Day and V-J Day.

After World War II, and following considerable controversy, the City of Philadelphia agreed that it would transfer custody of the bell and Independence Hall, while retaining ownership, to the federal government. The city would also transfer various colonial-era buildings it owned. Congress agreed to the transfer in 1948, and three years later Independence National Historical Park was founded, incorporating those properties and administered by the National Park Service (NPS or Park Service).[70] The Park Service would be responsible for maintaining and displaying the bell.[71] The NPS would also administer the three blocks just north of Independence Hall that had been condemned by the state, razed, and developed into a park, Independence Mall.[70]

In the postwar period, the bell became a symbol of freedom used in the Cold War. The bell was chosen for the symbol of a savings bond campaign in 1950. The purpose of this campaign, as Vice President Alben Barkley put it, was to make the country "so strong that no one can impose ruthless, godless ideologies on us". In 1955, former residents of nations behind the Iron Curtain were allowed to tap the bell as a symbol of hope and encouragement to their compatriots. Foreign dignitaries, such as Israeli Prime Minister David Ben-Gurion and West Berlin Mayor Ernst Reuter were brought to the bell, and they commented that the bell symbolized the link between the United States and their nations. During the 1960s, the bell was the site of several protests, both for the civil rights movement, and by various protesters supporting or opposing the Vietnam War.

Almost from the start of its stewardship, the Park Service sought to move the bell from Independence Hall to a structure where it would be easier to care for the bell and accommodate visitors. The first such proposal was withdrawn in 1958, after considerable public protest. The Park Service tried again as part of the planning for the 1976 United States Bicentennial. The Independence National Historical Park Advisory Committee proposed in 1969 that the bell be moved out of Independence Hall, as the building could not accommodate the millions expected to visit Philadelphia for the Bicentennial. In 1972, the Park Service announced plans to build a large glass tower for the bell at the new visitors center at South Third Street and Chestnut Street, two blocks east of Independence Hall, at a cost of $5 million, but citizens again protested the move. Instead, in 1973, the Park Service proposed to build a smaller glass pavilion for the bell at the north end of Independence Mall, between Arch and Race Streets. Philadelphia Mayor Frank Rizzo agreed with the pavilion idea, but proposed that the pavilion be built across Chestnut Street from Independence Hall, which the state feared would destroy the view of the historic building from the mall area. Rizzo's view prevailed, and the bell was moved to a glass-and-steel Liberty Bell Pavilion, about 200 yards (180 m) from its old home at Independence Hall, as the Bicentennial year began.

During the Bicentennial, members of the Procrastinators' Club of America jokingly picketed the Whitechapel Bell Foundry with signs "We got a lemon" and "What about the warranty?" The foundry told the protesters that it would be glad to replace the bell—so long as it was returned in the original packaging. In 1958, the foundry (then trading under the name Mears and Stainbank Foundry) had offered to recast the bell, and was told by the Park Service that neither it nor the public wanted the crack removed. The foundry was called upon, in 1976, to cast a full-size replica of the Liberty Bell (known as the Bicentennial Bell) that was presented to the United States by the British monarch, Queen Elizabeth II, and was housed in the tower once intended for the Liberty Bell, at the former visitor center on South Third Street.

Today, the Liberty Bell weighs 2,080 pounds (940 kg). Its metal is 70% copper and 25% tin, with the remainder consisting of lead, zinc, arsenic, gold and silver. It hangs from what is believed to be its original yoke, made from American elm. While the crack in the bell appears to end at the abbreviation "Philada" in the last line of the inscription, that is merely the 19th century widened crack that was filed out in the hopes of allowing the bell to continue to ring; a hairline crack, extending through the bell to the inside continues generally right and gradually moving to the top of the bell, through the word "and" in "Pass and Stow," then through the word "the" before the word "Assembly" in the second line of text, and through the letters "rty" in the word "Liberty" in the first line. The crack ends near the attachment with the yoke.

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August 2, 1776 - The Declaration of Independence is Signed in Philadelphia  . . . Wait . . .What?

8/1/2021

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Ask any American school child, and most likely the vast majority of American adults as well,  the simple question, "When was the Declaration of Independence signed" and you will undoubtedly be told, "July 4, 1776.  Everyone knows that."  Except, of course, everyone is wrong. 

But tell them so, and they will undoubtedly look perplexed.  A few knowledgeable souls will probably say, "Well, of course the resolution was adopted on July 2nd and signed by John Hancock then, and a few later members of Congress signed it later, but most of the signature were affixed on July 4th."  Sorry, wrong again. 

In countless textbooks next to an illustration of John Trumbell's famous depiction of the event and in the stage and film musical 1776 and other artistic recreations, a scene is set forth like a tableau with the assembled members of Congress preparing to each affix their signatures to the Declaration.  But when did this happen?

The question is not so simple as it may at first seem, and while historians are mostly satisfied that the answer is now firmly established as August 2, 1776, there are still some who maintain that the original Declaration of Independence was signed on July 4, 1776.  What is certain beyond doubt is that the document on display in the National Archives in Washington, DC is not the "original"," and was signed on August 2, 1776.

Here's the full explanation.  On July 2, 1776, 12 of the 13 colonial delegations, with New York abstaining, approved a resolution offered by Richard Henry Lee of Virginia on June 7, "Resolved, That these United Colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and independent States, that they are absolved from all allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain is, and ought to be, totally dissolved."

In the intervening four weeks between the making of the motion to adopt the resolution and its adoption, the “Committee of Five” -- Benjamin Franklin of Pennsylvania, John Adams of Massachusetts, Robert Livingston of New York, Roger Sherman of Connecticut, and Thomas Jefferson of Virginia -- had drafted a document setting forth the grievances of the colonies against the English Crown and Parliament.  For the next two days, the Congress debated the language of the Declaration before adopting it in final form on July 4.

What is not known, and likely never will be known unless the working draft is found in a musty attic somewhere, is whether anyone signed the draft as adopted on July 4 or at anytime thereafter.  Likely candidates are John Hancock, as President of the Congress, Charles Thomson the Secretary of Congress, and the members of the Committee of Five.  In truth, however, it is likely that none, save possibly Thomson, would have signed that day.  Over the next several days, copies of the resolution, both handwritten and printed, began circulating.  These contained the "signatures" of Hancock and Thomson, though it is unlikely that the handwritten copies were actually signed and the printed copies used plain type.  The "Dunlap Broadside," which was printed overnight, is the most famous of these versions.

Although the official record of the Congress states that the Declaration was engrossed and signed on July 4, 1776, this statement is contradicted by several facts.  First, at least one member of Congress expressly stated that the Declaration was not signed on the 4th of July, but on August 2nd.  Second, the New York delegation did not receive instructions to vote for independence until July 15, so they would not have signed before that date.

Most significantly, it was not until July 19 that Congress adopted a resolution to have the "Declaration passed on the 4th be fairly engrossed on parchment with the title and stile of 'The unanimous declaration of the thirteen united states of America' & that the same when engrossed be signed by every member of Congress."  The engrossed copy -- they one that now resides in the archives -- was not ready for two more weeks and the signing took place on August 2, 1776.  Not every member of Congress who was present on July 4 was present on August 2, and several of the members who voted on the adoption were never able to sign the engrossed version.  Moreover, several members elected after July 4 did sign the engrossed version despite not having voted on its adoption. 

Thomson, however, did not sign the engrossed version as he was not a "member" of Congress despite having served in his position -- likened by some as more akin to being "prime minister of the colonies" -- for the entire sitting of the Continental Congress in every session until the adoption of the Constitution, and, thus, he has somewhat unfairly benn consigned mostly to an uncelebrated role as a footnote to the history of the great document which he may have been the first to sign in its original version.

So why did the official record say that the Declaration was engrossed and signed on the 4th of July?  Because the custom of the time, when important handwritten and printed documents took days or weeks to prepare, the date of adoption was given in the document as the date of engrossment and signing.  In law, this is called signing "nunc pro tunc," that is "now for then," and it means that regardless of when the document is signed, its "effective date" is the date given in the document.

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July 5, 1775 – The Second Continental Congress adopts the Olive Branch Petition.

7/5/2021

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PictureSignature page of the Olive Branch Petition, with John Hancock's signature as President of the Congress at the top easily recognizable.
One day short of a year before the publication of the the Declaration of Independence, the Second Continental Congress sent the "Olive Branch Petition" to the English Parliament and Crown.  Although hostilities between the English and the Colonials had already begun, the colonies had not yet been declared to be in rebellion, and a faction in Congress held out the hope that peace could still be obtained if each side was willing to make concessions.

The Second Continental Congress convened in May 1775, and most delegates followed John Dickinson in his quest to reconcile with King George. However, a rather small group of delegates led by John Adams believed that war was inevitable, and they decided that the wisest course of action was to remain quiet and wait for the opportune time to rally the people. This allowed Dickinson and his followers to pursue their own course for reconciliation.

Dickinson was the primary author of the petition, though Benjamin Franklin, John Jay, John Rutledge, and Thomas Johnson also served on the drafting committee. Dickinson claimed that the colonies did not want independence but wanted more equitable trade and tax regulations. He asked that the King establish a lasting settlement between the Mother Country and the colonies "upon so firm a basis as to perpetuate its blessings, uninterrupted by any future dissensions, to succeeding generations in both countries", beginning with the repeal of the Intolerable Acts. The introductory paragraph of the letter named twelve of the thirteen colonies, all except Georgia. The letter was approved on July 5 and signed by John Hancock, President of the Second Congress, and by representatives of the named twelve colonies. It was sent to London on July 8, 1775, in the care of Richard Penn and Arthur Lee. Dickinson hoped that news of the Battles of Lexington and Concord combined with the "humble petition" would persuade the King to respond with a counter-proposal or open negotiations.

Adams wrote to a friend that the petition served no purpose, that war was inevitable, and that the colonies should have already raised a navy and taken British officials prisoner. The letter was intercepted by British officials and news of its contents reached Great Britain at about the same time as the petition itself. British advocates of a military response used Adams' letter to claim that the petition itself was insincere.

Penn and Lee provided a copy of the petition to colonial secretary Lord Dartmouth on August 21, followed with the original on September 1. They reported back on September 2: "we were told that as his Majesty did not receive it on the throne," meaning that the King refused to read the petition or forward it to Parliament, "no answer would be given." The King had already issued the Proclamation of Rebellion on August 23 in response to news of the Battle of Bunker Hill, declaring the American colonies to be in a state of rebellion and ordering "all Our officers… and all Our obedient and loyal subjects, to use their utmost endeavours to withstand and suppress such rebellion". The hostilities which Adams had foreseen undercut the petition, and the King had answered it before it even reached him.

The King's refusal to consider the petition gave Adams and others the opportunity to push for independence, viewing the King as intransigent and uninterested in addressing the colonists' grievances. It polarized the issue in the minds of many colonists, who realized that the choice from that point forward was between complete independence and complete submission to British rule, a realization crystallized a few months later in Thomas Paine's widely read pamphlet Common Sense.


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June 21, 1768 – James Otis Jr. offends the King and Parliament in a speech to the Massachusetts General Court.

6/21/2021

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PictureJames Otis
James Otis Jr. (February 5, 1725 – May 23, 1783) was an American lawyer, political activist, pamphleteer, and legislator in Boston, a member of the Massachusetts provincial assembly, and an early advocate of the Patriot views against the policy of Parliament which led to the American Revolution. His well-known catchphrase "Taxation without Representation is tyranny" became the basic Patriot position.

On June 21,  1768, James Otis, Jr. gave a characteristically fiery speech to his fellow legislators in Boston. He referred to the British House of Commons as a gathering of "button-makers, horse jockey gamesters, pensioners, pimps, and whore-masters." The colony's royal governor denounced Otis's tirade as the most "insolent. . . treasonable declamation that perhaps was ever delivered." Otis's speech in June 1768 was one of many that attacked Parliament for its efforts to squeeze more revenue from the American colonies. His insistence that "a man's house is his castle" and later that there be "no taxation without representation" remain etched in our collective memory long after his name, and his role in the events leading up to the Revolution, have been forgotten.

John Adams and Thomas Hutchinson, the Crown-appointed governor of Massachusetts between 1771 and 1774, agreed on at least one point: the story of the American Revolution began with James Otis, Jr. Fifty years after Otis delivered a blistering attack on the British use of Writs of Assistance (general search warrants), Adams wrote, "Then and there the child Independence was born." Yet, even before the first shots were fired at Lexington and Concord, James Otis had already disappeared from public view.

James Otis, Jr., was born in 1725 in the Cape Cod village of West Barnstable. A prominent figure in Massachusetts politics, his father represented Barnstable in the General Court for many years. James Jr. graduated from Harvard College in 1743 and then studied law under one of Boston's most respected attorneys.

The younger Otis began practicing in Plymouth but soon moved to Boston, where he quickly made a name for himself as one of the city's most brilliant lawyers. His legal skills, together with his political connections, won him appointments as justice of the peace in 1756 and, the following year, as advocate general, an even higher position.

n 1761 he resigned his post in protest over the Writs of Assistance. English authorities had decided to crack down on the colonial merchants and ship owners who had long avoided paying duties on imported goods. Rather than openly defying the Acts of Trade, which regulated commerce throughout the British Empire and benefited the Mother Country over everyone else, colonists simply engaged in extensive smuggling. In 1760 the Crown authorized the use of Writs of Assistance. These documents gave customs officials the right to search for contraband wherever they suspected it might be hidden. Had Otis remained as advocate general, it would have been his job to prosecute the smugglers.

Instead, he agreed to represent Boston's merchants — for free. In February 1761 he made a five-hour presentation before a panel of justices. He argued that the Writs were "instruments of slavery" allowing any "petty officer" to act as a "tyrant." He declared that "one of the most essential branches of English liberty is the freedom of one's home," and the warrants would violate that right. In spite of the eloquence and power of his arguments, Otis failed to convince the justices; they ruled that the writs were legal.

Suddenly Otis had the attention and respect of more than just the judicial and political elite. Two months later, Boston voters elected him to represent them in the General Court. He would serve there for most of the next ten years.

Like many other colonists, Otis became disenchanted with England only gradually. While he objected to the governor spending money without the legislature's consent, in 1762 he still believed that "the British Constitution of government, as now established in His Majesty's person and family, is the wisest and best in the world." The king was the "most glorious monarch upon the globe and his subjects the happiest in the universe."

Over the next two years, his views grew more radical. In a 1764 pamphlet, The Rights of the British Colonies Asserted and Proved, he returned to the issue of how revenue was raised and spent. "The very act of taxing, except over those who are represented, appears to me to be depriving them of one of their most essential rights as freemen." Time and again, in speeches and pamphlets, he would insist that "no one should be taxed without representation."

Otis became more and more involved in the struggle against royal control. When Parliament passed the Townshend Act imposing new taxes on the colonies, he and Samuel Adams drafted an open letter to all the colonies denouncing the law as "obviously unconstitutional" and urging collective action to get it repealed. By then the king had appointed Thomas Hutchinson Governor of Massachusetts. Hutchinson demanded that the letter be retracted. On June 21, 1768, James Otis delivered his response on the floor of the General Court. After nine days of debate, the Massachusetts House voted 92 to 17 to defy the governor.

​These were tense times for the men and women of Massachusetts. In Otis's own family, his wife and father-in-law were staunch Loyalists. Most colonists still regarded themselves as British subjects. To speak against the king or parliament was nothing less than treason. Tempers were running high. On September 5, 1769, a Boston customs collector offended by something Otis had written attacked him with a sword, fracturing his skull. Otis had already shown signs of mental instability; after the assault, his sister wrote, "the future usefulness of this distinguished friend of his country was destroyed, reason was shaken from its throne."

In January 1770, John Adams remarked sadly that the man he had once described as "a flame of fire" now "rambles and wanders like a ship without a helm." At the State House he broke windows, burned his papers, and fired his rifle. In 1771 he was "judged a lunatic" and the court appointed his brother to be his guardian.

Eventually, Otis moved in with an old friend in Andover and lived the remaining years of his life there. In a letter to his sister, he wrote, "I hope when God Almighty, in his righteous providence, shall take me out of time into eternity, that it will be by a flash of lightening." And so it was. On May 23, 1783, James Otis stood in the doorway chatting with his friends who were seated inside. Suddenly a storm came up. Thunder shook the house, and a bolt of lightning struck him dead. He was 58 years old.

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June 12, 1776 – The Virginia Declaration of Rights is adopted

6/12/2021

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PictureGeorge Mason was the principal author of the Virginia Declaration of Rights.
The Virginia Declaration of Rights was drafted in 1776 to proclaim the inherent rights of men, including the right to reform or abolish "inadequate" government. It influenced a number of later documents, including the United States Declaration of Independence (1776) and the United States Bill of Rights (1789).

The Declaration was adopted unanimously by the Fifth Virginia Convention at Williamsburg, Virginia on June 12, 1776 as a separate document from the Constitution of Virginia which was later adopted on June 29, 1776. In 1830, the Declaration of Rights was incorporated within the Virginia State Constitution as Article I, but even before that Virginia's Declaration of Rights stated that it was '"the basis and foundation of government" in Virginia. A slightly updated version may still be seen in Virginia's Constitution, making it legally in effect to this day.

Ten articles were initially drafted by George Mason circa May 20–26, 1776; three other articles were added in committee, seen in the original draft in the handwriting of Thomas Ludwell Lee, but the author is unknown. James Madison later proposed liberalizing the article on religious freedom, but the larger Virginia Convention made further changes. It was later amended by Committee and the entire Convention, including the addition of a section on the right to a uniform government (Section 14). Patrick Henry persuaded the Convention to delete a section that would have prohibited bills of attainder, arguing that ordinary laws could be ineffective against some terrifying offenders.

Mason based his initial draft on the rights of citizens described in earlier works such as the English Bill of Rights (1689) and the writings of John Locke. The Declaration can be considered the first modern Constitutional protection of individual rights for citizens of North America. It rejected the notion of privileged political classes or hereditary offices such as the members of Parliament and House of Lords described in the English Bill of Rights.

Edmund Pendleton proposed the line "when they enter into a state of society" which allowed slave holders to support the declaration of universal rights which would be understood not to apply to slaves as they were not part of civil society.

The Declaration consists of sixteen articles on the subject of which rights "pertain to [the people of Virginia] ... as the basis and foundation of Government." In addition to affirming the inherent nature of rights to life, liberty, property, and pursuing and obtaining happiness and safety, the Declaration both describes a view of Government as the servant of the people, and enumerates its separation of powers into the administration, legislature, and judiciary. Thus, the document is unusual in that it not only prescribes legal rights, but it also describes moral principles upon which a government should be run.

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June 9, 1772 – The British schooner Gaspee is burned in Narragansett Bay, Rhode Island.

6/9/2021

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The Gaspee Affair was a significant event in the lead-up to the American Revolution. HMS Gaspee was a British customs schooner that had been enforcing the Navigation Acts in and around Newport, Rhode Island in 1772. It ran aground in shallow water while chasing the packet ship Hannah on June 9 near Gaspee Point in Warwick, Rhode Island. A group of men led by Abraham Whipple and John Brown attacked, boarded, and torched the ship.

British officials in Rhode Island wanted to increase their control over trade—legitimate trade as well as smuggling—in order to increase their revenue from the small colony.  But Rhode Islanders increasingly protested the Stamp Act, the Townshend Acts, and other British impositions that had clashed with the colony's history of rum manufacturing, maritime trade, and slave trading.

On June 9, Gaspee gave chase to the packet ship Hannah, but Gaspee ran aground in shallow water on the northwestern side of the bay on what is now Gaspee Point. Her crew were unable to free her and Dudingston decided to wait for high tide, which would possibly set the vessel afloat. Before that could happen, however, a band of Providence men led by John Brown decided to act on the "opportunity offered of putting an end to the trouble and vexation she daily caused."  They rowed out to the ship and boarded her at the break of dawn on June 10. The crew put up a feeble resistance in which they were attacked with handspikes and Lieutenant Dudingston was shot and wounded in the groin. The boarding party casually read through the ships papers, before forcing the crew off the ship and lighting it aflame.  Most of the men involved were also members of the Sons of Liberty.

This event and others in Narragansett Bay marked the first acts of violent uprising against the British crown's authority in America, preceding the Boston Tea Party by more than a year and moving the Thirteen Colonies as a whole toward the war for independence.


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June 2, 1774 – The Quartering Act of 1774, which was one  of the "Intolerable" Coercive Acts of the British Parliament, is enacted

6/1/2021

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Quartering of troops refers to not only their housing, but also relates to their provisioning with food, clothing and other necessities.  It had long be the custom of European armies to requisition all that they needed during a campaign from the populace of the territory in which they were operating, whether it was their own territory or that of an ally or enemy.  The officers charged with overseeing this aspect of the campaign were "quartermasters." In theory, compensation was to be paid to those quartering troops on national or allied territory, but in practice the quartermasters, who were also in charge of paying the troops, were chronically short of funds.  During peacetime, however, the relatively small standing armies were generally stationed in barracks or as garrisons of fortresses.  

With the expansion of European colonies in the America's the need for large standing armies to defend against both native attacks and belligerent rival states, quartering in peacetime became more common.  Initially, the Quartering Act of 1765 applied only to commercial establishment, such as inns and taverns, and the expenses for quartering troops were to be paid by the colonial government.  This practice was actually popular with the innkeepers and tavernkeepers, who were provided with regular payment, but less so with the colonial administrators who had to find the funds to make these payments.

The Quartering Act of 1774 was enacted in response to the failure of the local legislatures to provided the needed funds and allowed the royal governor of each of the British Colonies to quarter troops without assent of the owner of the property or with compensation unless such was provided by the legislature.  In principle, the Act was limited to quartering troops in unoccupied buildings, but in practice this rule was not always observed, though the quartering of troops with colonial families was far less widespread that is often portrayed.  Rather, many of the soldiers, typically officers, who lived in colonial homes were boarders who paid for the accommodations from their own resources or from a stipend paid by the army.

What the colonists found to he "intolerable" about the Quartering Act of 1774 was that it bypassed the traditional role of the legislature in controlling its expenditures.  Furthermore, involuntary quartering had been outlawed in Britain as early as 1723 as part of the Mutiny Acts addressed to military discipline, but the British Army did not recognize the Munity Acts as applying in colonial possessions.  

​Quartering of troops illegally was one of the grievances stated against King George III in the Declaration of Independence and was the subject on the 3rd Amendment to the Constitution.  Although quartering of troops is no longer a common practice in modern armies, the principles of the limits on executive power implied by the 3rd Amendment have been cited in several Supreme Court opinions.  More recently, the amendment has become the focus of debate over the power of the federal government to requisition property during national emergencies.


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