The two wars between Britain and the United States may not have been very large as wars go, but they can be counted on to heat up the atmosphere wherever they are introduced into conversation. Well, let’s have a bit of heat.

Actually, if the alternate history I’m suggesting here worked out logically, George Washington and the Comte de Rochambeau would never have been at Yorktown in October 1781. The victory over Lord Cornwallis at the siege of Yorktown was actually decided on September 5th between French Admiral de Grasse and the English Admiral Thomas Graves off Cape Henry.

I’m sure many of historical what-ifs have been investigated for the Virginia campaign and the siege of Yorktown that year, but I wonder if any of them took place at the opposite end of Chesapeake Bay. The British forces had a lengthy history of combined operations even before the War of American Independence, but they rarely got it together this time. The Federal tactics of the Civil War and the British successes in the War of 1812 indicate how the cooperation of land and sea forces could dominate Chesapeake Bay. To achieve this success in 1781 required a better admiral than Thomas Graves.

On September 5th, Washington’s army was still in the vicinity of Philadelphia, having not yet boarded de Grasse’s transports to ferry them down to Williamsburg. Admiral Graves’ fleet, sent south from New York to counter the French fleet that had arrived from the West Indies surprised the French at anchor near the mouth of the bay at ten in the morning. De Grasse was in a difficult situation and ordered his ships to slip their anchors rather than waste time raising them. The French warships then had to beat out of the bay against both tide and an offshore wind as the British van under Admiral Hood came closer.

Hood saw the tactical advantage of attacking the French as they tacked out past Cape Henry in no particular order and proposed the plan to Graves. Graves was no Nelson, and rather than assent to something so novel ordered his fleet to mark time until the French line was ordered enough that he could sail his own line of battle against them. This he did and instead of smashing the French piecemeal, succeeded in getting his own ships so badly mauled that he never pressed the attack home and ultimately fled back to New York for repairs.

That left the way open for the well supplied French and American troops to be assembled and invest Cornwallis at Yorktown.

What if Hood had crippled the major part of de Grasse’s fleet at Cape Henry and the French had been obliged to retreat from Chesapeake Bay? Firstly, would Washington ever have left Delaware to embark for Williamsburg if he’d known the British now controlled the bay? If he hadn’t been informed in time, and embarked, what would have been the chances of his army being sent to the bottom of the bay if the Royal Navy had intercepted the transports? What if he and his army had made it to Williamsburg only to find that it was now Cornwallis with the supples, the naval support, and the reinforcements to go after him?

Clearly George Washington is the prime candidate for being the protagonist of this story. Either trying to rescue his troop transports from the Royal Navy frigates, or trying to assemble some coherent defence of Virginia against a now-ascendant Cornwallis – or even more contrafactual, constructing defences to prevent the British from coming to the head of Chesapeake Bay and threatening to advance on Philadelphia. Perhaps this alternate history could be even more exciting than the actual rolling up of the abandoned and disillusioned Cornwallis at Yorktown.

This could even work into a series, because historians recognize that American independence would have never been abandoned and would have been pursued again even if the present war was lost. What would the Brits have done with Washington – exiled him to St Helena? What secret movements in the colonies would have kept the dream alive? What about the rest of the signatories to the Declaration of Independence; what plots would they have worked on from their exiles in Paris? Would those American exiles and their army have returned from France in 1805 at Napoleon’s behest to weaken an overstretched Britain beyond breaking point? The world we know today could have been very different.

Here is the text of President Bush’s Speech at the State Dinner in his honor at Rashtrapati Bhavan, New Delhi, 3 March 2006 (reprinted with slight modifications from OUTLOOK, Web edition, 28 February-6 March 2006 issue, where it appeared as ‘I Believe in Big Dreams’):
———————————-
Your Excellency, the President of the Republic of Pakistan; Mr. Man Mohan Singh, Prime Minister; and all other Indians

(Whispers from an aide:   Republic of India, Mr. President, not Pakistan.)

I beg your pardon, ladies and gentlemen, I did mean to say the Islamic Republic of India.  I just couldn’t remember where Air Force One was first supposed to land.  I am mighty pleased to be in this great country of yours and I thank My Man Mohan for his kind invitation from the bottom of my heart.   That great state of Texas where I come from is really heart county, we’ve got very big hearts, and I believe that some of your country’s great politicians have come down there to get their hearts fixed.  Would you believe it, but surgery may also be linking our great countries together.

Now my predecessor Bill Clinton — God bless him, his family and ours are getting cosier and cosier by the day, though I do wonder if I’ll ever be able to hold Hilary to my bosom — so my predecessor, on coming to your great country some years ago, said that it had always been his childhood dream to visit India.  Now I have to admit that I never had any such childhood dream.  It’s not that I didn’t have a childhood, indeed I know that some people think I never ceased being a child.   And I do dream — that great American, King’s his name, said you should dream from the mountain-top.  And like King, I believe in big dreams.  I never had the kind of dream that Bill Clinton did because, and I’m not ashamed to admit it, I never heard of India when I was a child.  You know they say that old habits die hard, and I never did leave behind the habit of not reading books.   You all know that I don’t read much of newspapers or reports, my advisers do that.  That’s why I’m President, you see, I don’t get to read anything.  But let me again thank Man Mohan Singh.  I knew about the political dynasties you’ve had, the father-daughter, daughter-son, husband-wife, father-grandson, great great grandfather-boy teams, the Gandhis, Nehrus, and even people I’d never heard of before, the Lallus and Yadavs, but I had hadn’t heard of the Mohan dynasty.  I guess I should have thought of it, given that both Mohan Das Gandhi and Man Mohan Singh had some kind of turban on their head.   I might not like to read much, but I sure do like picture books, and I’ve seen pictures of Gandhi when he wore a turban.

Condi told me all about the great country of India on the long journey on board.  I mean, there’s only so much sleeping that even a President can do.  We in America, and especially in Texas, know a thing or two about Indians.  Condi did tell me that that I shouldn’t be talking of teepees, face paint, feathers, squaws, bows and arrows, Geronimo, and Sitting Bull.  Some of that Indian culture has definitely left its mark on the youth of America today:  I do know that the paint is no longer applied to the face, but to the hands.  So I guess that’s why Condi didn’t want me to talk about face paint.  You in India have a great civilization, but it all really began in America.  Somewhere in the history book that was read to me it says that the Indians crossed over some body of water, I think it’s called the Berring Curve, and that was some 10,000 years ago.  That was a long time ago, and I really don’t know why many people continue to say that we in America have a very short history.  I now, and yes its’s true, and I have to admit, that there aren’t many Indians left in America, but most of them, you all know, died of diseases.  I guess it must be genetics, since I hear that you Indians are still dying of many diseases. But, truth be told, it’s not at all a bad thing that there aren’t many Indians in America.  There are over a billion of you in India, and my population experts told me that every sixth person in the world is an Indian.  That’s awesome.  Now if nature hadn’t done her work in America — God bless nature, always giving us global warmth and comfort — the Indians in America would have multiplied as fast as you have, and every fourth person in the world would be an Indian.  If you all believe in multiculturalism and diversity as much as I do, you have to agree that it’s a good thing that we don’t have so many Indians in America.  And the ones that are here, well they are in places that we call reservations where they can’t be seen.  It took me some time to understand why the Indians were called an invisible minority and why they seemed kinda upset.  So you see you just reserve special spots for minorities, but we being an older and more experienced democracy, we actually have a special place for them that we call reservations.  Isn’t that something?

As I said, it’s a great honor for me to be in India, another great home of multiculturalism.  This beautiful lady to my right — well, not quite, since no one is really to my right, except perhaps Pat Robertson, Tom De Lay (and he’s not part of my delegation, being on a delayed schedule) and that other Bill, Frist –  well, this elegant lady who’s from Italy and I’m told is something like an invisible hand running this country (why, it seems whenever we speak of India, we run into invisible people and invisible hands) – well, she’s Roman Catholic.  Man Mohan Singh is Sikh, which I’m told is said the same way we say sick, though why they call him that I sure don’t know, since he seems to be in really good shape, even without going biking, fishing, golfing, clearing the brush, and hunting.  What a life one has as President!  There’s no end of outdoor activity, I tell you.  And the President of your Republic, well, I was sort of shocked to know that he’s a Muslim, though Runny and Condi told me he’s a Hindu kind of Muslim, which really does sound so wonderful.  He reads a sacred text called the Bhagavad Gita, does yoga, doesn’t eat meat, and doesn’t like violence very much.  I mean, either you’re a Hindu, or a Muslim; either you’re with the Hindus, or with the Muslims.  Since we’re on the subject of Muslims, let me say what is one of the main things that brings me to this great country of yours.  Somehow, you’ll pardon me for saying so, when we get to talk about Muslims, we can’t seem to get away from killings, and passion, and violence, and all that stuff.   Now let me be very clear.  I know, though I don’t have any close Moslem friends, that Islam is a religion of peace, and most Moslems, like all Americans, are peace-loving people.  Now I might not read, but I sure do look at the funnies every morning.  Some days ago I heard about this huge fuss — people call it a ruckus, but I believe in plain language — over these Danish cartoons.  These Danish cartoons of Muhammad have got them Muslims stirring again.  In the war room at the White House, we have a large wall map of the world and all those strategic places that are of great interest to us from the standpoint of American national security are clearly marked.  I don’t know much about Denmark, but the White House geographer showed me this country and I couldn’t really figure out how Muhammad got to Denmark.  Now our Librarian of Congress who was present said something about not all being well in the state of Denmark, and when I asked him what he meant, he said it was a literary allusion to some play about a King of Denmark by that great Brit, Shakespeare.  He sure did shake up the world, and that too without a spear.  He only used a pen.  I finally realize, while I’m talking to you, why we always got this question in school, whether the pen was mightier than the sword.  I thought it was a rather daft thing to think that the pen could be mightier than the sword, but both Shakespeare and this Danish cartoons mess makes me think that I should rethink my position.  I hope you do realize what this means:  some people allege that thinking is not my strong suit, but I’m actually a man of very firm opinions.  I’d rather think than re-think.  We Americans are greater inventors, always coming up with new stuff.  Why rehash what’s around?  I’m not known for re-thinking anything, but God’s ways are mysterious.

Everyone knows me as a very focused person, but I’ve been really distracted today.  It must have something to do with being in India.  Our Librarian of Congress, and we have a mighty fine library in Congress, not that I’ve ever been to it, had been speaking of literary allusions.  Now I mean most of us have illusions, and in that special briefing I got on India they said that Hindus believe that the whole word is an illusion, that nothing’s real.  They even have a special word for it, they call it MAYA, although I always thought that was a Russian woman’s name.  Let me reassure Laura that I never knew any Maya.  We in America, and that must be our Indian heritage, know a thing or two about illusions too.  We never did find those weapons of mass destruction, but believe me, they’re not an illusion.  They’re there.  I’d compare these weapons of mass destruction with an onion.  You notice how many layers there are to an Indian?  I meant an onion.  You keep on peeling off layer after layer, but as you get closer to the truth, to the onion’s center, your eyes start to water.  I haven’t peeled an onion in years, but I know that for  a fact.  Yes, Sir, there are ugly facts in this world, and it’s a fact that there were weapons of mass destruction in Iraq, but our inspectors’ eyes started to water when they got close to discovering the truth.  We never found the weapons because we threw out the baby with the bath water.

So let me return to the subject of Muslims and say some words about why I’m here today.  I was told by Condi that some Muhammad fellow came to India some 1000 years ago, tore apart a Som-nose temple, and that you’ve been smarting ever since.  Your neighboring country, the one you all don’t get along with too well, even named one of its missiles after that place from where he came, Gas-ni or something.  Mean thing to do, I’d say.  You can see how Eye-raq and Afghanistan are both linked:  weapons of mass destruction and gas-ni (which must be really another way of saying gas-nose) are part of their common history.  So whether Mohamed is on cartoons or on missiles, I guess the trouble never ends.  I know that your leaders were telling us that you had plenty of experience with Moslems, but we weren’t inclined to listen to you.  We’ve got to continue to cooperate to hunt down those terrorists of al-Qaeda.  Many of them, I hear, are holed up in Pakistan.  That worst snake of all — he’s a coward, won’t come out in the open, bin Laden, well he just disappeared on us and has become invisible.  There we go again, I hope you all now understand what I meant when I said that there’s something about India and the word invisible that makes them go together.  The whole point of my trip is to change that, to put India on the map.  Wasn’t India where they had the disappearing rope trick?  I seem to remember something of that sort from the magic show I saw at the White House the day the Twin Towers slowly disappeared from the TV screen.  I am convinced that the power of illusion is truly great.   The War on Terror must go on, and I know that the partnership of our two great countries will be a model for the rest of the world.  Think of all the ways in which we complement each other:  you greet us with folded hands, we stretch out our hands in a firm (well, mostly firm, except for the kind of guys you see in “Heartbreak Mountain”) handshake; you venerate the cow, we love to eat it; your guys are up while we’re asleep; you think with your brain, we think with our bodies.

Our two great countries are on the verge of a special relationship.  Thanks to the Brits, we speak the same language.  Funny thing, that special report I got on your country had a little history lesson, and it said that a general called Cornwallis from Cornwall who was defeated soundly by our General Washington then went on to India.  They wanted a man of experience to spread democracy around the world.  Well, we’re both democracies now.  You have a President, and so do we — that’s me.  People who’ve been studying this kind of thing, you know democracies around the world — and they’re increasing, just look at Iraq, look at those turbaned Afghan women so eager to vote, and freedom’s on the march — say that the big difference is that your President is actually a figurehead.  Many of my critics have said that I’m a figurehead as well and for once my critics are right.  They were wrong about WMD, they were wrong about whether those Arabs would take to democracy like fish to oil, and they’ve been wrong about doggone everything else, except for one thing.  It really is Dickhead Cheney who’s running my government, and he did a very good job of it largely cause we kept him in hiding, just like Bill Laden.  My Dick is really good at nearly everything — he gets the contracts to the right people, wears a pacemaker — you know, I’m a great believer in going at the pace that our Maker set for me, in bed by nine o’clock sharp — and even knows how to fire a gun.  I’m sure you’ve all heard of this expression, Lame Duck President, but it goes to show that our reporters do not always adhere to the high standards that we expect of them.   Dick’s always had a preference for quail, not ducks.  And he’s too manly to shoot at lame ones.  I never did think of it before, but I wonder what happened to that other Quail, you know the guy who was Dick’s earlier incarnation under Ronnie?

Well, your excellencies and friends, I think I’ve gone on long enough.   We’ve got lot of important issues to talk about over the next two days of my visit, and that’s why I brought along my entire team.  God bless you all.

228 years ago today, Lord Cornwallis surrendered to the Franco-American forces at Yorktown under General Washington and the Count of Rochambeau, thus setting the United States off on a remarkable journey that shows no sign of ending.

Earlier this month, as Barack Obama prepared to deliver a national address to school-children, conservative politicians, radio talk-show hosts, and many ordinary citizens went on the offensive at the thought that the President was proposing to indoctrinate young minds with communist ideology.  School boards were instructed in a number of states that parents who wished to spare their wards the ordeal of being addressed by a sitting President of the United States could withdraw their children for the day from school or at least from a live viewing of Obama’s address.  Indeed, the White House even made the speech available to schools before it was broadcast, lest anyone should have occasion to accuse the President of secretly hoisting dirty or radical ideas upon the young.  (No lesser a person than Socrates, let us recall, was compelled to consume poison after he was found guilty of leading the young astray.)  As it transpires, Obama gave a harmless little speech, venturing forth, as he often does, to inspire the nation’s youth with sunny thoughts about the virtues of schooling, the gains to be wrought from hard work, the importance of education in shaping a bright future, learning from one’s failures, and the desirability of dreaming.   This talk should be described as an improvement of sorts upon the efforts of his predecessor who, at a commencement address, I think at his alma mater Yale, lovingly described how he had managed to secure the Presidency of the United States even as a ‘C’ student in his undergraduate days.  (And then we’ve been told that in banana republics high elected offices are for sale, when not appropriated at the barrel of a gun.)  We might say that Obama’s speech is in a similar mold, if more elevated in style, substance, and elegance of delivery:  dream the best dreams, and they may well come true.  The road to the White House is less crooked than is imagined.

Leaving aside for the present the question of whether there is anything more than a liberal bone in Obama’s body, and the even more interesting question as to why this kind of political comedy is peculiar to the United States, there is a little detail about his visit with 32 ninth-graders at Wakefield High School in Arlington before his address that demands attention.  One girl by the name of Lily posed this question to the President: “And if you could have dinner with anyone, dead or alive, who would it be?”  The room shook with genial laughter.  “Well, you know, dead or alive, that’s a pretty big list,” Obama replied to more mirth making. “You know, I think that it might be Gandhi, who is a real hero of mine.”  Had Obama said Marx, Mao, or Che – let us stick with the dead, with known ‘revolutionary’ figures, and with those who are of foreign vintage – there would have been an uproar, to say the least.   But Gandhi:  isn’t he the harmless little chap, Jesus-like, who spoke about turning the other cheek, and giving away the cloak (not that Gandhi owned one)?  So, though Gandhi has his detractors, as I recall from some of the vitriolic reviews of the hagiographic film by Attenborough that appeared in late 1982, for the most part he is viewed as the champion of non-violence, the apostle of peace, the messenger of love, and so on – pick your favorite cliché.  In the received version of what Gandhi wrought, he used non-violence successfully against the somewhat gentlemanly British, who having failed to hold on to their colonies on the east coast of America moved on to India.  (And, here’s a small history lesson from a history professor, all this is captured in the figure of Lord Cornwallis, who disgraced himself by conceding defeat to George Washington – see the painting by John Trumbull, ‘Surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown’, 1797 — and was at once sent to India to lord it over the natives, which Cornwallis proceeded to do with a reckless piece of legislation called the ‘Permanent Settlement.’)  If Obama had picked a somewhat unusual figure as his ideal dinner guest, at least he had picked a charming if somewhat quixotic world historical figure.

In a later blog, I shall turn my attention to the idea of Gandhi as one of Obama’s heroes.  For now, let us try to digest the idea of Obama dining with Gandhi.  What would the evening have looked like?   Obama himself elaborated on the possibilities:  “Now, it would probably be a really small meal because, he didn’t eat a lot.”  Indeed, Gandhi ate very little, often nothing more than small raw or boiled vegetables, a small bowl of curds or yogurt, and, apparently, quite a few nuts.  It is the nuts, which are not the poor man’s food, that might have prompted Gandhi’s close friend, the poetess Sarojini Naidu, to quip, “It costs a lot of money to keep Gandhi in poverty.”  Had Obama wanted to make his audience go nuts with laughter, he could have cited Naidu, but among the hordes of his advisors there is evidently no Gandhi specialist.  Now let us continue with Obama, who immediately added the following:  “But he’s somebody who I find a lot of inspiration in. He inspired Dr. King, so if it hadn’t been for the nonviolent movement in India, you might not have seen the same nonviolent movement for civil rights here in the United States. He inspired César Chávez”, the last a reference to the eminent Chicano political activist and labor union leader.  So Gandhi ate very little, “but he’s somebody who I find a lot of inspiration in.”   Obama’s use of “but” is, to put it gently, bizarre:  the supposition is that though Gandhi ate very little, it is still possible to be inspired by him.  Perhaps, in a land where food is plenty, one has to be a huge or at least generous consumer of food to be taken seriously?

The next course of the dinner — Part II of ‘Obama, Gandhi, and a Few Morsels of Food’ — to follow tomorrow.

August 1 is upon us.  Many may not recall (this is not something which gets widespread attention), but August 1 of 1794 marked the beginning of the Whiskey Rebellion. The true beginnings of the Rebellion can be traced back to Alexander Hamilton who, a few years earlier - in 1791, had the absurd idea of imposing an excise tax on whiskey, in order to raise revenue to pay for the debts of the states, the debts of which had recently been assumed by the Federal government.  As one might imagine, particularly at such an early stage of our nation’s development, such an idea was not met with great enthusiasm.  Such an outrageous tax was coming on the heels of other recent attempts to tax the people to death, such at the Stamp Tax in 1765, the Tea Act in 1773 and even Shay’s Rebellion in approximately 1786. Taxation was a “hot topic” to say the least, fresh in the minds of those early citizens of our then fledgling nation. Yet, it was not for another three years that tempers finally rose to the level of causing a “rebellion.”

August 1, 1794 marks the day where thousands gathered at Braddock’s field, eight miles outside of Pittsburgh, to further undertake their revolt.  This rebellion was ultimately repressed, with Hamilton wanting to have used military force against those rebelling; George Washington wanted to take a different approach – having state militias on the ready and sending negotiators in to attempt to resolve the matter.  Ultimately, Washington acquiesced to Hamilton, whereafter tens of thousands of militia troops (lead by Hamilton and then Virginian governor, Henry Lee – the father of Robert E. Lee) marched in to restore order.  By the time this force had arrived, much of the rebellion had collapsed, with most of the rebels having fled.  Of the rebels, only two were charged with treason and convicted, only to later be pardoned by Washington.  The excise tax was ultimately repealed in 1803, with the Federal Government not implementing any other such tax until the War of 1812.  Of course, following that, there arose a system of taxation which would have sent our Founding Fathers scrambling for their muskets. 

Here are some fantastic links regarding this oft-overlooked piece of United States history:

Washington’s Proclamation of The Whiskey Rebellion and here (text version).

August 11, 1794 issue of Claypoole’s Daily Advertiser reporting on The Whiskey Rebellion

The Bradford House

TTB article on The Whiskey Rebellion

Addendum -  August 1 also carries with it another historical event, particularly in relation to the birth of the United States of America:

I can not go without mentioning that on this date (August 1) in 1781, thirteen years prior to the Whiskey Rebellion, British General Cornwallis invaded and occupied Yorktown, VA, planning to use the port for resupply as he continued his Virginian campaign.  By October 19, 1781, Cornwallis’ disastrous southern campaign was brought to a crushing end and he was forced to surrender to Washington in the very same place, Yorktown.  This effectively brought to an end the Revolutionary War with Great Britain.

Welcome to the last in our Truth v. Myth series on 5 Myths about the American Revolution. Here we re-examine the cherished idea that we were total underdogs in our war of independence. This article was inspired by a re-listening to the insightful Prof. Allen Guelzo’s lecture series “The American Revolution.”

Yes, the British Army was bigger than the Continental Army, and better organized. And most British officers and politicians in the spring of 1775 thought the war could be won fairly quickly.

But the British Army was not that big—at least not in America. In 1775, there were about 38,000 men serving in the British Army around the world, and around 18,000 men in the Royal Navy (in 270 ships) also spread around the world. To fight in America, men had to be impressed and mercenaries hired, because Britain did not want to pull its forces from the invaluable sugar islands in the Caribbean, which would be snapped up by France or Holland if left unguarded. Sugar was the oil of the 18th century, to borrow Prof. Robert Bucholz’s inspired phrase, and the sugar islands were far more valuable to Britain than all the colonies in North America. So when 16,000 American men enlisted to fight the British in 1775, they were fairly equal in numbers to the redcoats.

The British Army was well-organized and well-run, far more so than the Continental Army. That did stand in Britain’s favor. British soldiers were under no illusions about having control over how long they served (though there were desertions from the British Army during the war).

As for the British attitude to the war, it was far more complex than we imagine. The British knew that those Americans in rebellion would not go down easily. They knew that they could not hope to conquer the vast territory of the 13 colonies, and that any attempt to conquer land battle-by-battle would result in a hopeless loss of men and drain on money and supplies in a war of attrition. They understood that an occupied people almost always win wars of attrition because they have the motivation and the resources to resist for many, many years.

The British approach was to try to destroy the heart of the rebellion—Boston, Washington’s army, the Congress—and get Loyalists to take over local governments.  The British were hampered by poor communication, infighting between generals, the months it took to get orders from London, lack of support from Loyalists, and often conflicting goals (for instance, Howe was told to at once occupy New York City and to destroy Washington’s army in 1776; the impossibility of doing both at once led to delay and paralysis).

So while the British Army itself was well-organized internally, from the start it had management problems at the level of Parliament and its generals, and it was always low on supplies.

By 1778, opposition to the war was making itself heard in Parliament. We picture a vindictive empire trying to keep America in its clutches to the bitter end, committed to stamping out revolution, but in reality there was strong opposition to the war after three unproductive years. Boston had been occupied, and so had New York, but Washington’s army remained at large, the British had lost an army at Saratoga and an important battle at Trenton. The rebellion remained strong despite the occupation of two major cities, and the Loyalists had yet to rise up. Most important, France had joined the war on America’s side, which meant Britain had to increase its expenditures to supply its army and  navy against a stronger—and now much more important—enemy. The sugar islands were at higher risk, and the sugar planters lobbied Parliament vigorously, threatening to oppose any move to relocate  British soldiers from their islands to America. War with France meant war not only in America but in the Caribbean and India.

In these circumstances, Parliament came close to voting not to send any more soldiers to America at all in 1779, and Lord North’s government actually sent a peace committee to Congress, offering the colonies control over their taxation, no more quartering British soldiers on civilians, and acknowledgement of Congress—in short, everything the colonies wanted but independence. This offer was rejected, but it is significant to realize that by 1779, Britain was looking for a way out of the war. Washington fought his last battle against the British in July 1779, a full two years before the official surrender at Yorktown.

By the time Cornwallis’ disastrous attempts to take the Carolinas and organize Loyalists into an army to defeat Nathaniel Greene and turn the tide of the war were over, in1781, and the British surrendered their army to Washington, Parliament was mostly resigned to the loss, and already turning its attention to India, Africa, and the West Indies. It would hold on to its western territories in America, and try to foment Native American rebellion against the U.S. It would happily engage the U.S. in war in 1812, vengefully burning down our capital. But for Britain, its ever-expanding eastern empire and its wars against France in Europe were more important.

We see, then, that the deck was not totally stacked against us. This is not to say that Washington was not a genius and a powerful leader who kept our fight for liberty alive when the odds of success looked bleak. We could have lost that war. But we had more going for us than we think. Britain knew it faced substantial difficulties, just as America did.  Everyone likes an underdog, but we shouldn’t overdo it.

Lady with an Ermine, by Leonardo da Vinci

The fair lady gazes at her pools of ocre eyes in the mirror nearby, “Oh where are my pretenders of the afternoon? Shall my tea take a chill while I await?”

Ermine: *snickers*

Lady: Silence, wretch! Care you to be the laughing stock of Italy, or, I know, my handmaiden’s shawl!

Ermine: Why are your hands so large, and so very deathly cold, my dear Lady of the Night? Is your headband cutting into your skull, center of all motor functions, or is my prodigious weight forcing your back to arch as your pitifully weak arms give out?

Lady: Why are your arms are so muscular, you little albino dinosaur.

Ermine: Listen, my princess, you humans have already ceased in your evolutionary path, while my species is destined to very nearly over-populate the earth. While you grow weaker and your technology less inspired, I grow stronger and less needful of melanin. I will be almost self-sufficient, and you will be as dependent on your many lovers as ever.

Lady: Your soft pelt draws people in, it is true. But every boon can just as easily be a curse. Just consider my beauty in its many forms. I have a very curious second eyebrow gracing my forehead, a part in my hair that could do a farmer proud when he lays the rows for corn…And yet I cry every night! It is true what you say, I need Mr. Donne, oh, and Mr. Cornwallis, and Mr. Botticelli…

The Ermine interrupts to slap her across the face, “God rest your mother’s Danish soul should she witness this spectacle! Be chase, lassie!”

The lady spun on her heels and faced the mirror, disconcerting the ermine. “Good day! I see that some pondering lies ahead of me. That and a bottle of wine and some cheese, perhaps with Mr. Modigliani, atop the paints in his studio…No! I shall mount only my great stallion and go directly home, not even stopping at the baker’s.”

John Kitts 1870 Census

A Man Over One Hundred and Four Years of Age.

Baltimore boasts one of the most remarkable cases of longevity in the country. Person who are in the habit of traversing Calvert street may have frequently observed at the corner of that and Mulberry street a very elderly gentleman, quietly seated on a chair or  promenading in the vicinity, regarding attentively every object which passes him, and though mostly reticent, yet prompt to reply to any remarks addressed to him. There he enjoys the quiety and repose of age, looking out upon the world more than a century older than when he was first ushered into it. Our ancient friend’s name is John Kitts.

Bloody Run, Pennsylvania

He was born at Bloody Run, in Bedford County, Pa., in 1762, and is, therefore, now in the on hundred and fifth year of his age! In 1776, when fourteen years of age, he was a member of the First Pennsylvania Regiment of the Revolutionary War.

Battle of Yorktown

He was in the battle of Yorktown, and occupied at one time the position of errand boy or messenger to Washington and Lafayette. He retains a distinct recollection of the personal manners and habits of those illustrious heroes of our first struggle with Great Britain. He was too old to be drafted in 1812, but he entered the army, and remained about a year.

He has no constitutional disease; of course suffers somewhat with debility; but he moves about without assistance; has a dark, keen, observant eye; is quick and appreciative in his responses to queries; hears remarkably well; his eyesight is good; he never uses glasses; he says that “he is afraid they will injure his eyes.” He has a most excellent memory. Like most very old people, however, he remembers the events of his earlier years better than those of recent occurence.

Mount Vernon Rye Whiskey

On propounding the question as to whether our Methuselahian friend had practiced “total abstinance,” he replied, “No; I always drank whenever I felt like it, and enjoy a glass of old rye as much now as ever.”

The Ohio Democrat (New Philadelphia, Ohio) Sep 13, 1867

Marquis de Lafayette

John Kitts, claiming to be 107 years old, and a soldier of the Revolution under Lafayette, has applied to the Baltimore City Council for an appropriation.

New York Herald (New York, New York) > 1869 > November > 16

Genral Nathaniel P. Banks

A Soldier of the Revolution on the Floor of the House — A Hero of Two Wars Petitioning for a Pension.

John Kitts, a veteran, who served in the war of the Revolution, called at the Executive Mansion today to pay his respects to the President. He was received with much cordiality by the President, who questioned him concerning his history and invited him to remain for lunch. The old gentleman declined, because, he said, he was anxious to see Congress in session. The President ordered Mr. H.L. Fox, one of the messengers at the White House, to proceed with Mr. Kitts to the Capitol, and to remain with him while he staid there.

Upon reaching the Capitol he was taken on the floor of the House, General Banks stating who he was and asking that the privilege of the floor be granted him. He occupied Horace Maynard’s seat, immediately in front of the Speaker’s desk, and received the congratulations of the members, who flocked around him in large numbers and questioned him about his age and the leading events of his life.

Mr. Kitts was born in Bedford county, Pa., in 1762, and is therefore in his 108th year. He served in the American army during the Revolutionary war, and was present at the surrender of Lord Cornwallis at Yorktown. In the battle preceding the surrender Mr. Kitts was struck in the back of the head with a spent musket ball, and the indentation which it made is still visible. The old man points this scar with considerable pride, and is quite garrulous about the circumstances under which he received the wound.

When the was of 1812 broke out he was considered too old to enter the service as a soldier, but he went in as a messenger to carry the mails. He relates many interesting stories of the narrow escapes he had from being taken prisoner by the enemy’s scouts. On one occasion he was forced to leave his horses and take to the woods, so closely was he pursued. He was the bearer of important despatches, which he succeeded in carrying safely through. On being asked if he could read Mr. Kitts replied that he could not. When he was a boy, he said, there was very little reading done, and even if he had learned to read it would be of no use to him now. He had never found time to read until his eyesight failed him.

Although entitled to a pension both as a soldier of the Revolution and of 1812, he has never applied to Congress for it. He says until about seven years ago he had no occasion to seek aid from the government, because he was able to take care of himself. He thought the government had enough soldiers who fought in the rebellion to pension without giving anything to the “boys” who fought under Washington now. The old man is unable to do anything, and he asks a pension. He said he didn’t expect to remain long upon the rolls, and all he would draw out of the treasury would not be much. He has neither children nor grandchildren living, and when asked if he had any relatives he replied, “No; I am the last of the stock.”

General Banks and Mr. Ingersoll, of Illinois, started an impromptu subscription for the old man among the members of the House. The entire amount realized was eighty dollars, twenty of which General Banks gave himself. This is rather a small contribution among so many men, but some allowance must be made for the economic fit under which the House is just now laboring. General Banks will look after the old man’s petition for a pension, and there is reason to believe he will get it.

New York Herald (New York, New York) Feb 11, 1870

JOHN KITTS. — We do not know how often the last Revolutionary soldier has died. On the average we think he has died twice a year for the last ten years. But it makes no difference. We are glad to see him alive and in full possession of his faculties once more. John Kitts is the prevailing representative of that former generation, and we think that John is a bona fide representative. He is one hundred and eight years old, and has a scar on the back of his head. Besides, he only claims to have helped to capture Cornwallis at Yorktown. He does not appear to have nursed Washington or to have shaken his hand and received his benediction in the true Washington style, which all the old negroes in the country claim to have done, and which at one time must consequently have been a very empty honor. On the contrary, old John Kitts seems to be a very worthy old soldier, and, although he never nursed Washington, he is fully deserving of a large pension.

New York Herald (New York, New York) Feb 14, 1870

Died at the Age of 108.
BALTIMORE, Sept. 19. — John Kitts, aged 108 years, the oldest citizen died last evening.

Chicago Tribune, IL Sep 20, 1870

– JOHN KITTS, aged one hundred eight years, died at Baltimore on Monday.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Sep 24 1870

–The venerable John Kitts, of Baltimore, is dead. He was born May 7, 1762, and was 108 years, 4 months and 11 days old at the time of his death. Last winter he visited Washington, and was granted the privilege of the floor of the House of Representatives.

Edwardsville Intelligencer (Edwardsville, Illinois) Oct 6, 1870

We Are Not Amused

Your Most Gracious Majesty,

It has surely come to your attention that once again, your former colonies in North America have caused another worldwide stock market crash.  We realize this is the second time in eighty years that we have done this, and we assure you that we are very embarrassed about it.  We sincerely hope we have not caused you any inconvenience.  We are very grateful to the Bank of England for lending us over 80 billion dollars to pull our economy out of a hole of our own digging.  Please extend our kindest regards to your loyal subjects in the Bank of England.  We would have been in a considerable amount of trouble without them.

As we are on the subject of embarrassing mistakes, we would like to make amends for another blunder we made about 230 years ago.  That was about the time we rebelled against His Majesty George III.  In hindsight we understand this to have been a very bad idea.  We were not capable of self rule back in 1776, and we have failed to become competent in the last two and a third centuries.  Perhaps we here in the Colonies suffer from a form of cultural Attention Deficit Disorder.  Possibly we suffer from massive brain damage due to our low air pollution standards.  Whatever the reasons, we keep ruining things for the rest of the world.

It is not as if we deliberately destroy the world economy.  We had the very best intentions.  You see, our present leaders promised us prosperity.  They told us that an unregulated market would bring us a stronger economy.  They promised us more jobs, better paying jobs, the sun, and the stars and the pretty moon.  They even told us that an unregulated market would be best for the whole world.  It seemed they were telling us the truth, until the Tech Bubble burst in 2000.  Then our leaders lied about weapons of mass destruction in Iraq.  We understand that your subjects got caught up in that mess. Terribly sorry about that.  Next came the mortgage meltdown, and now the stock market crash.  We just can’t seem to do anything right.

Of course, one of the problems is the leaders we keep choosing.  I am sure Your Majesty can tell us a few stories about Lyndon Johnson and his gallbladder and Richard Nixon’s drinking.  I can just imagine how difficult it was for you to make small talk with poor Mr. Reagan.  People with Alzheimer’s do ramble on so. Let us take this opportunity to apologize for young Mr. Bush.  We do hope your roses have recovered from him landing his helicopter on them.

Looking at Europe, we see your socialized medicine and your social safety net.  You have guaranteed vacations for all employees, and retirement pensions that make ours look sick.  Europe has grown since the Second World War.  Meanwhile the United States keeps falling back to 1929.  Your World Court has guaranteed civil rights for gays, lesbians, and trans people, but American gays still fear for their lives in many parts of the country.  Your subjects enjoy all these benefits, and yet you have the prosperity to save the failing American economy.

There is no doubt about it.  We Americans are not capable of self rule.  We should not even let ourselves out of our homes without a keeper.  We are a disaster that keeps happening to the world.  Your Most Gracious Majesty, we most humbly beg you to save us from ourselves and take us back as a crown colony. We are most terribly sorry about the misunderstanding back in 1776.  We will officially change its name from the Revolutionary War to the Failed Rebellion.  We will posthumously try Ben Franklin, George Washington, James Madison, and Thomas Jefferson for treason and symbolically hang them in the Washington Mall, which will be renamed the Cornwallis Mall.  We will rename Washington, DC “Arnold” after Benedict Arnold, and place a statue of him on the White House Lawn.  The White House will be renamed the Lord Governor’s Residence.  We will even pay for the tea we so rudely dropped into Boston Harbor.

Please take us back. We’re sorry. We’ll be good. We’ll never do it again.

Yours Contritely,

The American Colonists

Our Country 'Tis of Thee, God Save Our Gracious Queen

i’ve been in greensboro for a few days. on tuesday night we attended a class a baseball game between the greensboro grasshoppers (affiliate of the florida marlins) and the greenville drive (affiliate of the boston red sox). the grasshoppers continue a greensboro tradition of namely their sports teams after things, the bats and hornets preceded them, that don’t have much to do with the city. i suppose a team nicknamed the sit-ins or woolworths or magis doesn’t sell as much merchandise.

putting that name aside for a moment, what about their opponent? greenville drive? is that an address or a baseball team? i fully expected a family of nine to take the field (maybe i’ve been watching too much jon & kate plus eight while i’ve been here). alas, it wasn’t to be: no two players were related, unless you’re one of those people that think we are all related, and greenville won 12-6.

interestingly, when charlotte was awarded a baseketball team, the greensboro hornets had been in existence for almost ten years. the change to bats was made a couple of years later after pressure from the bigger city. you may be wondering why all the fuss about a name that isn’t on the surface quintessential north carolina. well, the name comes from a quote from the revolutonary war. british general charles cornwallis remarked that there’s a rebel behind every bush; it’s a veritable nest of hornets regarding the resistance he met in the state. you know i love nothing more than seeing groups of people fight over who has the right to use an obscure quote, but seriously there were better options, especially in the case of charlotte who could have easily been called the charlotte spiders and played their home games at charlotte’s web.

speaking of children, somewhere in this house is a hat from the greensboro bats inaugural game with a logo that was changed soon after that. the hat is purple with a pudgy man dressed in a baseball uniform and wearing a purple cape and, i think, a mask. it wasn’t deemed ferocious enough for a sports team, not even a minor league team. if someone ever cleans out the garage at my parents’ house i’ll take a picture of it for you.

Unlike most mornings, I woke with abandon. I found a coffee shop, got a cup of coffee and muffin, bummed a needle and thread off the proprietor, a pleasant lass named Jackie, and hoofed it, ripped pants and all to the tracks. An hour later, I hopped an eastbound. In the interest of the public’s modesty, I slipped into a boxcar and slipped out of my pants. If only there was a picture, a presidential candidate, sitting on crates in his skivvies darning ripped pants, the press would have a field day; I am sure I would be a national hero, at least amongst the sewing sect.

Somewhere along the line, the train turned southbound. I slipped back into my repaired pants and waited for Charlotte. The largest city between Philadelphia and Jacksonville, Charlotte caught my attention mainly because of its history, specifically during the revolution, when locals, drove out the occupying Cornwallis, leading him to comment that the city was a hornet ’s nest of rebellion,. Eleven score later, I wonder if the same spirit prevails.

I slipped from the boxcar after it came to a rest in the freight yard; I autographed it, checked the last E-mail from Alberton and made my way to the UPS store addressed in the correspondence. There was a package waiting.

The campaign manager can be devious in his guerrilla tactics and this scheme didn’t disappoint. Inside the package, there were one hundred oversized, $100 bills with my mug replacing Ben Franklin’s. On the back, was information about the campaign along with the slogan, Elect Robert President: Vote Dirty Bum! Elect Robert and get Dick Knighty! It’s about time Dick got a little attention. Mr. Knightly is perfect VP material, quiet, confident and glad to be lurking in the shadows.

The idea was to drop the “$100 bills” on the ground so people would think it is their lucky day. They would pick up the bill and be assailed with campaign information.

I spent the afternoon walking about the uptown district dropping bills on sidewalks. With half the pack gone, I headed towards Elizabeth section of Charlotte and perhaps the best dive bar in town, The Penguin. I dropped a bill at the door and entered, ordered up some fried pickles, a burger and a tall blond and laughed when someone stumbled in showing off the $100 bill.

“You’re the bum on the bill!” The mohawked biker exclaimed.

Late Afternoon: After a successful stumping session, I slipped from The Penguin, found the tracks in Elizabeth, worked southeast before hopping a freight. I leapt on a flatcar and did my thing as the train passed through Monroe, crossed into South Carolina, journeyed through the South Carolina Piedmont and Sumter National Forest before ending up in Clinton as the sun fell in the western sky.

I found a nondescript place called Dano’s and settled in for a tall blond and a very quiet night. I shared a long conversation with a self-employed excavator who admitted his business was struggling with the economic downturn. “Luckily my equipment is paid for; otherwise I would be plum out of business.”

He asked if I had a place to spend the night. I said I was planning to spend it under the stars, he told me he had a small guest cabin and I was welcome to it. I accepted his offer, and took advantage of his extended generosity and laundered my clothes.

I ran across the phrase “A Pyrrhic Victory” this evening in reference to the Battle of Guilford Courthouse (teachers, see great lesson plan on this battle here) where Nathaniel Greene and Lt. General Charles, Earl Cornwallis clashed in one of the most important battles of the American Revolution.

Charles, Earl Cornwallis (pictured below, see bio here)

Nathaniel Greene (pictured below, see bio here)

“The armies met at Guilford Courthouse in a furious battle in which the British won a Pyrrhic victory. Cornwallis’s losses were so severe that he moved to Wilmington to recuperate and be resupplied by sea.”^[i]

According to the good folks at dictionary.com,

Pyrrhic victory\PIR-ik\, noun:
A victory achieved at great or excessive cost; a ruinous victory.

A Pyrrhic victory is so called after the Greek king Pyrrhus, who, after suffering heavy losses in defeating the Romans in 279 B.C., said to those sent to congratulate him, “Another such victory over the Romans and we are undone.” ^[ii]

Pyrrhus of Epirus

I am quite sure that a number of hard fought American Civil War battles had Pyrrhic victories.

[Note that the papers of Nathaniel Greene are available here.]

—–
[i] Allan R. Millett and Peter Maslowski, For the Common Defense: A Military History of the United States of America, (New York: The Free Press, 1994), 76.
[ii] Pyrrhus defined. http://dictionary.reference.com/wordoftheday/archive/2003/07/16.html
Photo source for Pyrrhus, Cornwallis, and Nathaniel Greene: Wikicommons, public domain.

The best scene from an otherwise pretty mediocre movie.