Lives and Legacies

Tag: American Revolution

  • “We encampt here on the banks of the Rappahannock. Oh, it is beautiful country.”

    A Personal Look At Civil War Soldiers As Told Through Artifacts

    Ferry Farm is most well-known as the Boyhood home of George Washington. While our primary emphasis of interpretation and research has focused on young George and his family’s life on this farm, Ferry Farm has many other stories to tell. The American Civil War had a major impact on the Ferry Farm community, changing both the landscape and the lives of those who lived here. This blog will look at how our archaeological efforts have brought to light artifacts that reflect the experiences of the soldiers that were stationed on the “old Washington Farm.”   

    Washington House at Ferry Farm
    “The Old Mansion of the Washington Family” (1833) by John Gadsby Chapman shows the foundation stones of the house where George grew up at Ferry Farm and trees along the riverbank.

    The Washington house and its outbuildings gradually fell into disrepair until by the mid-1830s there was no trace of them on the landscape. But the soldiers still knew the significance of the site. In April 1862, the Civil War came full force to Fredericksburg and to Ferry Farm. Federal Forces took over and occupied the City of Fredericksburg behind the retreating Confederate Army.  Encampments and gun emplacements were established all along our side of the river and throughout Stafford County as the army set about maintaining control of the city across the river. Engineers were set to the task of rebuilding the railroad bridge and erecting pontoon bridges, including one at the end of Ferry Road.

    Looking over Fredericksburg by Alfred R. Waud

    This spring deployment and the military occupation of Ferry Farm was relatively quiet and uneventful. There is no evidence of a large, formal camp at Ferry Farm, but soldiers were stationed here to protect one of the pontoon bridges that ran from the bottom land of Ferry Farm across to the city of Fredericksburg. In August of 1862, the army suddenly retreated from the city and the surrounding countryside to defend Washington, D.C.

    In November of the same year, the full force of the Union Army returned to Stafford County in preparation for the retaking of Fredericksburg and their expected march to take over Richmond. Instead, the Federals suffered a devastating defeat at the Battle of Fredericksburg in December and retreated to the north side of the river for winter camp. Now, Ferry Farm was being used more actively as a staging ground for multiple troop movements, bivouacs for soldiers guarding the pontoon bridges, and as a defensive line for the Federal troops.

      A defensive trench, or rifle pit, with an adjoining berm to protect soldiers from gunfire originating on the Fredericksburg side of the river, was dug across the edge of the upper river terrace, stretching north-south from the edge of the stream gully through the remains of the Washington house. A small extension on the south end of the trench was dug out to connect it to the now-exposed cellar.

    Artifacts found within the cellar trench fill reflect the extensive use of the house ruins by soldiers during both occupations. In the spring and summer, they used the farmhouse as their headquarters, writing on the plaster walls and leaving graffiti in pencil and charcoal on hundreds of plaster fragments that have been excavated and preserved.

    Plaster fragments with graffiti

    Various artifacts were abandoned when they left, including canteens, bullets, gun parts, and writing tools. But this blog isn’t about buttons, bullets, and buckles. It’s about the items the soldiers found more dear. Objects they made or relied on for small comforts.

    So, on a more personal level, what was everyday life like for the Union soldiers stationed here during the Civil War? When they weren’t directly experiencing the brutal and intense combat fighting on the front, it was a routine-filled life of constant drilling, standing watches, maintaining equipment, and finding imaginative ways to entertain themselves in the camps. But camp life had its own struggles and hardships. Poor shelter, food, and hygiene, along with low immunity rates to communicable diseases, all contributed to high rates of sickness and disease. Add to that boredom and homesickness, and camp life was a private’s first test of survival.

    It was very important for the soldiers to recognize that they were standing on the very ground that their hero, George Washington, once stood on. Those sentiments were expressed in a speech by Private Edwin Jones of the 6th Wisconsin when he said, “We are assembled on sacred soil…It was while living on this plantation, under the direction and blessed with the teaching of a noble mother, that George Washington learned those lessons…fitting him for leadership in war and peace, to lay the foundation of the mighty Nation that we today are fighting to preserve.”

    On a more personal note, we know soldiers spent a lot of idle time playing games among themselves. Dice, card games, chess, checkers, and gambling were all very popular, and remnants of these activities are found on all Civil War sites. At Ferry Farm, we have a collection of gaming pieces, including this bone die and a gaming piece crafted from a Minié ball, which could have been used to play chess, checkers, or as markers in a game of chance.

    Bone die, one of the many gaming pieces uncovered
    Gaming pieces crafted from a Minié ball

    And we can’t forget about the importance of music in camp life. Music was a common and welcome pastime activity for troops. Fiddles, guitars, fifes, harmonicas, and accordions all came out at night to entertain the soldiers who relished listening to songs about home and the worries of war. Jaw harps were inexpensive and easily portable, which made them very popular with soldiers. Our jaw harps, one of which was recovered from the civil war trench, is of the style known as a Gloucester type, one of the most common designs in America during Colonial times and after the Revolution.

    “Gloucester type” jaw harp

                Nothing is normal about wartime. Many people were forced to improvise, and it’s very hard to determine why a soldier placed four unfired Minié balls in this tin can, which was revealed through X-ray. Did he lose his ammo case? Was it just idle behavior? Were these bullets saved to be turned into gaming pieces? This is the type of artifact that raises more questions than answers.

    A tin can filled with four unfired Minié balls,
    X-Ray of tin can with four unfired Minié balls

    Literacy – Ink Bottle/Pen nib:

    Literacy among Civil War soldiers was very high, and much of what we know about daily camp life comes from the letters written and received by the soldiers themselves. Letter-writing to loved ones at home allowed the soldier to keep up with local news, forward monetary and business instructions to those left running the household or farm, and relay war news to their family.

                A complete ink bottle and pen nib recovered from the site evidences the desire for correspondence, both official and personal. The ink bottle itself was found in the Bray cellar hole, which the Union soldiers used as a defensive dugout to avoid Confederate sharp shooters. We can just picture a group of soldiers huddled down inside the cellar, building a small campfire to stay warm, and writing letters home to their families. Was it a hasty departure that left this bottle in the cellar, or perhaps the owner expected to return but didn’t. As archaeologists, we can’t answer all these questions, but we know it was used during the Civil War by a Union soldier and was found in a location many soldiers never wanted to be stuck in.

    This particular ink bottle is an ‘umbrella’ shape, one of the most ubiquitous ink bottle forms from this era. The bottle was typically meant for single use and would have been made in one of the numerous American glasshouses present during the 19th century. It was then filled with ink, affixed with a label, and marketed for single use.

    “umbrella” shaped ink bottle and small pen nib

    This small pen nib is stamped with a maker’s mark and style name. The Esterbrook Company started making nibs, including the “Relief” style, in 1858 in Camden, New Jersey, and became one of the largest manufacturers of this product in the US. The nib was part of a dip pen, which consisted of a handle made of various materials and the replaceable nib.

    The first evidence of self-care in the trenches takes the form of a small double-sided bone comb. Combs were made from an assortment of materials, including bone, ivory, gutta perch, and steel, and were used for grooming the moustache and hair. But their fine teeth were also handy in capturing the pesky lice that were endemic to camp life among men marching and living together in close quarters. This comb would have been an essential component of any soldier’s personal kit.

    small double-sided bone comb

    Our second evidence of self-care is this intriguing bottle. It is not so much interesting because of what it is – it’s a very common medicine style bottle for the mid-19th century– but rather what’s inside. Clearly visible within the bottle is a hard black substance, and for years, we’ve wondered what the substance may be.

    Mercury bottle, mercury was used for a variety of medicinal reasons at the time

    So we chipped off a little fragment of the substance and sent it to Ruth Ann Armitage, our chemist friend at Eastern Michigan University. The sample was analyzed using scanning electron microscopy to map out specifically what elements were present in the sample. Our sample was also run through DART (direct in real time) mass spectrometry. This technique is good at detecting organic components within a substance.

                Almost immediately, Dr Armitage responded, and we weren’t disappointed: “Did you know there’s mercury in this?”  Nope, we did not.

    However, this discovery was not too surprising given the use of mercury in many medicines for thousands of years. Nowadays, it’s common knowledge that you shouldn’t drink mercury…or touch it…or inhale it, but for a long time, mercury was seen as a potent healing metal, and it was readily rubbed on skin, consumed, and vaporized for immediate effect on the lungs.

    And while all these treatments using mercury did little to address the body’s underlying medical problem, mercury did cause an immediate bodily response, which convinced people it was working to cure their ailments. When applied topically, it burned. When introduced into the body, it caused a person to sweat, salivate, and have diarrhea. The mucous membranes also went into overdrive, leading many to believe that the bad stuff in your system making you sick was being purged by the mercury. The reality, of course, was that the body was trying desperately to rid itself of poison.

    So, if the residue inside our bottle was medicine, what was its exact formula? All we can say at this point is that it was mercury-based and that it could have been in either liquid or pill form. Common Civil War-era uses for mercury-based medicines were for treating skin sores and lacerations, internal and external parasite infections, syphilis, and constipation, to name but a few. On a side note, an almost identical bottle also containing mercury was found across the river in Fredericksburg at a site that was well known to be a Union field hospital. It was found in a knapsack discarded in a trench that included amputated limbs.

    Lastly, we’d like to highlight one of our favorite artifacts, a tiny hatchet about two and a half inches long, recovered from the bottom of the Civil War trench. For such a diminutive object, it speaks quite loudly to our local history in Fredericksburg, Virginia. Initially, earlier archaeologists at Ferry Farm assumed it was a pewter toy souvenir given out or sold in 1932, when our country and Fredericksburg celebrated the 200th anniversary of George’s birth. Indeed, cheap pewter toys were very popular during this time period.

    Lead toy hatchet found in Civil War-era trench with traces of tin and nickel.
    Lead toy hatchet found in Civil War-era trench with traces of tin and nickel.

    A recent reexamination of all the artifacts from the context where the hatchet was found revealed that nothing from that stratum had any 20th-century artifacts in it, nor did the two strata above it. In fact, the youngest artifacts from these strata were all mid-19th century. Additionally, although the archaeologists who excavated the hatchet didn’t know it at the time, the excavation unit from which the hatchet came sat right inside the Civil War-era trench.

    This revelation shut the door on our ‘it’s a 20th-century souvenir’ narrative but opened the door to an even cooler one.  A close examination of the hatchet showed that it didn’t have mold seams, which are always present on cast pewter toys. Furthermore, for some reason, it had one smooth side and one textured side, leading us to believe that it was handmade, not machine-cast. This was supported by a thorough internet search to find an identical toy hatchet, which came up empty, further supporting our new theory that this piece was a one of a kind. The textured side resembled the grain of wood, so we surmised it had been cast in a simple hand-carved wooden mold. All of these clues, combined with its location within a Civil War trench, made us suspect that the hatchet was crafted by a soldier, likely from a lead Minié ball. The hatchet is likely ‘trench art’, which is defined as objects of art either made by soldiers, POWs, or by civilians to create mementos of the war experience.

    To further support our identification of the hatchet as trench art, we took the artifact to the Virginia Department of Historic Resources, where Katherine Ridgeway analyzed it using XRF, or X-ray fluorescence analysis. This non-destructive technique determines the composition of metal. We also brought along a few Minié balls recovered from the same unit for comparison. It turned out that what we thought was a pewter hatchet was actually a lead hatchet with a similar compositional profile to Minié balls, which are mostly lead with trace amounts of other metals such as tin and nickel.

    One can just imagine a bored Union soldier whittling the mold and then melting down some of his bullets to pour into it. He likely chose the hatchet form because of the famous cherry tree story, in which young George Washington owned up to hacking his father’s cherry tree with a hatchet by proclaiming, ‘I cannot tell a lie.’ The soldier would have been well-versed in the Washington cherry tree myth at Ferry Farm, created by Mason Locke Weems in his first biography of Washington, published in 1800. By the 1860s, the story was nationally known. Additionally, letters Union soldiers wrote while encamped at Ferry Farm indicate they knew the site’s connection to Washington. They even went so far as to send home cherry seeds for their families.

    Grant Wood — Parson Weems’ Fable (1939)

    While the identification of the hatchet is now secured, we have so many more questions. Who was this soldier? How many hatchets did he make, and why did this one come to be left behind in his trench? Was it a souvenir for himself, or did he send one home to his family, or share with fellow soldiers?  Did he survive the war? Unfortunately, these are mysteries that will likely never be solved, but that make for great pondering.

    Mara Kaktins, Archaeologist and Lab Manager

    Judy Jobrack, Archaeology Co-Field Director

  • “The Spirit of ’76”: Lafayette’s Visits Fredericksburg on His American Tour

    In 1824, the United States was approaching its national jubilee—50 years of independence. President James Monroe, looking to create a wave of patriotism and celebration, invited the last surviving General of the American Revolutionary War, an American hero and icon, to take a grand tour of the country revitalizing the “spirit of 1776.” That American hero was…a French aristocrat with a painfully long name of Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de La Fayette, the Marquis de Lafayette.

    1824 portrait of Lafayette by Ary Scheffer is currently in the U.S. House of Representatives

    I won’t go into General Lafayette’s exploits, heroism, and leadership during his time in the Continental Army, but the young man was impressive and quickly became an adopted countryman.

    Lafayette being heroic at the Battle of Brandywine, artist Charles Henry Jeens

    However, we will talk about his American tour, particularly his stop in Fredericksburg.

    Lafayette arrived in New York on August 15, 1824, after setting sail on a merchant packet Cadmus from Le Havre with much disapproval from Louis XVIII, the King of France.  But royal condemnation from Louis XVI (Louis XVIII’s elder brother) hadn’t stopped him from setting sail for America in 1777, and it didn’t stop him in 1824.

    Lafayette arrived in Fredericksburg on the evening of November 20th. He was first received at the parade grounds by two companies of Riflemen, the Washington Guards, and the whole Marine Band from Washington. Then they all commenced in a long column toward town, gaining excited townspeople on horses as they continued down Hanover Street toward Caroline.    (Merchant, 1824) (Levasseur, 1829)

    Cover page of the book by Rufus B. Merchant documenting Lafayette visit, 1825

    The procession made it to the Town Hall, which was festooned with evergreens and flowers. There, it was met by a battalion of little boys called Lafayette Cadets, dressed in sharp white uniforms with red trim. After a quick welcome speech from the mayor, the general was led into the Hall, where he was greeted by a group of garlanded young girls singing his praises. 

    Fredericksburg’s Town Hall, 1814-1816

    The general was then whisked off to his accommodations provided by Mr. James Ross to enjoy refreshments and a “handsome” dinner. At nine o’clock, Lafayette, the Mayor, and Colonel Mercer were taken to the Farmer’s Hotel (west corner of Caroline and Hanover Streets) to partake in a grand welcome ball for a few hours until he retired, presumably exhausted from the day’s activities. (Merchant, 1824) (Crookshanks, 2018)

    On Sunday, the general, his son, and Mr. La Vasseur visited the Freemasons at the Fredericksburg Lodge, No. 4. In addition to observing the solemn and profound ceremonies, Lafayette was elected an honorary member in the Old Lodge Room.  (Masonic Lodge No. 4, 2024)

    Masonic punch bowl used during the reception for the General
    Masonic Lodge No. 4, about a hundred years after Lafayette’s visit.

    The assemblage of Masonic Brethren, civil authorities, military officers, Lafayette, and company was escorted to St. George’s Episcopal Church to enjoy an excellent discourse delivered by the Reverend Edward C. McGuire, also a Mason. 

    Interior of St. George’s Episcopal Church
    St. George’s Episcopal Church, Established 1720

    The general then spent the evening in the company of Washington relatives at Captain Robert Lewis’s, then retired to his lodging early at 9 o’clock.  As Monday morning arrived, Lafayette was paraded to the town hall in a chariotee drawn by four white horses, where he was greeted by a crowd of ladies who occupied his time until he was led away for a sumptuous dinner at Mr. Gray’s Tavern.  After a few hours of delicious food, songs, and speeches, the general was loaded into a carriage for the final time as he continued his journey to Washington. (Dovetail Cultural Resource Group, 2006)  

    Foundation of Mr. Gray’s tavern (Indian Queen Tavern) located on the current Marriott Hotel site.

    Lafayette’s time in Fredericksburg might have been short this trip, but it gave the city a last chance to thank and honor a valued friend who had been a champion for America and helped fight for this country’s freedom.

    The city will again celebrate General Lafayette’s visit with a Commemoration Weekend on November 23rd and 24th. The weekend will open with a recreation of Lafayette’s arrival at the Old Town Hall, including period music and costumed participants. A reception line with the General will follow it. There will also be a Lafayette Ball on Saturday night, where participants can dress in their finest Regency garb and dance the night away (until 9 p.m.) with the General and President Monroe. 

    Additional Saturday events include tours of the historic Masonic Lodge No. 4.  Learn about the history of George Washington’s Mother Lodge and the fraternity’s importance to the general and see rare artifacts like the original punch bowl used during Lafayette’s visit.  For more information and tour hours, visit the Masonic Lodge No. 4 website. 

    Sunday will start with recreating Lafayette’s Masonic welcome, with historical speeches and a unique ceremony. There will be additional Lodge tours from 1 to 4 p.m. At noon, a historic church service at St. George’s Episcopal Church will be reminiscent of that performed by Rev Edward McGuire. Lastly, back at the Masonic Lodge from 2 to 3 p.m., historian Chris Ruli will give a lecture discussing his forthcoming book, “Brother Lafayette,” which examines the Marquis’ connection to the ancient fraternity.

    Finally, if you have some extra time on the weekend, stop by the Fredericksburg Area Museum and see their exhibit “Lafayette’s World: Revolutionary Ideals and the Limits of Freedom,” which explores Lafayette’s ideas on freedom, democracy, and abolitionism. 

    If you can’t attend the weekend events but still want to see exclusive artifacts related to Lafayette’s visit, including the extraordinary punch bowl of Masonic Lodge No. 4, stop by the Kenmore Visitor’s Center, check out our new exhibit, take a tour of the house and learn all about Fielding and Betty Lewis. 

    Friend of the Family – Lafayette’s Visit to America, Kenmore Visitor’s Center

    Heather Baldus

    Collections Manager

  • Happy Birthday, Mr. President!

    Not every president gets their birthday celebrated every year with a federal holiday, but George Washington, a favorite of his countrymen and the first president, has had that privilege since 1879. But one year was a little different from the others: 1932.  It marked Washington’s 200th birthday, and the United States was going to make a big deal about it. 

    In honor of the upcoming birthday, we decided to look at some of the memorabilia in our collection created to celebrate and educate the American public.   

    George Washington Bicentennial Commission

    The planning for this celebration started early when Calvin Coolidge signed a joint resolution that established a commission to oversee the bicentennial ceremonies on Dec 2, 1924.  The resolution was to mark the occasion of the birthday across the country and increase the understanding of Washington. (George Washington Bicentennial Commission, 1932)  Under the direction of Representative Sol Bloom, an experienced entertainment promoter who got his start at the 1893 World’s Colombian Exposition, the committee initiated thousands of events, released educational resources for students, and had plays written in honor of Washington. (Larson, 2004)

    Handbook of the George Washington Appreciation Course for Teachers and Students
    “Washington Takes the Risk”, including George Washington, Fielding Lewis, and Betty Washington Lewis

    The commission additionally worked with over 250,000 local commissions to organize special events at not only a federal level but a state and city too. (The Washington Post, 1932) Special volunteers and prominent local people were often given commemorative metals as thanks for their service.  We have one from the state of New York.  It is a circular bronze medal attached to a blue and white ribbon.  The back of the medal states, “1779 / Planned Sullivan / Clinton Campaign 1782 / Newburgh Temple Hill / Refused a crown / 1789 April 30th / New York City / Inaugurated first / President of the / United States.” 

    The medal is encased in a paper envelope with “New York State / George Washington Bicentennial Commission / In appreciation of / Services generously / Rendered to the / Commission / During / 1932” written on the front along with the signature Charles Tobin, chairman representing New York state on the Bicentennial Commission. 

    New York State George Washington Bicentennial Commission, 1932
    New York State George Washington Bicentennial Commission Medal, 1932
    New York State George Washington Bicentennial Commission Medal, 1932

    Historical Context Help: The Sullivan-Clinton campaign was ordered by George Washington in response to the 1778 attacks by the Iroquois and British in central New York.  Newburgh Temple Hill was a Continental Army encampment near Washington’s headquarters, where he gave a speech to quell the mass of soldiers who were getting ready to mutiny and attack Congress to get their promised back pay and pensions. Finally, in 1789, George was sworn in as President at Federal Hall in New York City.

    Calling All Philatelists

    Washington Post, Jan 2, 1932

    The U.S. Post Office became involved in the commemoration of George with the release of a dozen stamps celebrating his life.   The stamps were incredibly popular, and when they were first released for sale in D.C., there was a crowd of 50,000 people waiting to get their set of stamps. (The Washington Post, 1932)

    Commemoration celebrating George Washington’s visit to Kenmore on April 8, 1791, as part of the birthday celebrations. Note the stamps.
    Commemoration of George Washington’s birth at Wakefield. Note the stamps.

    Marketing George

    Private companies even got in on Washington-mania by releasing all types of souvenirs like postcards, pins, coins, bottles, calendars, cigar box covers, books and pamphlets, hat stands, billheads, stationary, cartes-de-visite, playing cards, and puzzles. (Subseries 5.8. Washington’s Birthday, Bicentennial Souvenirs, 1931-1932 , 2024)

    We have two bottles created for the Bicentennial celebration.  The green water bottle has a likeness of George with “Washington/Bicentennial” underneath the image and 1732 and 1932 written on the sides.  The water bottle was produced by the Hemingway Glass Company in Muncie, Indiana. 

    Bicentennial glass bottle, Hemingway Glass Co., 1932
    Bicentennial glass bottle, Hemingway Glass Co., 1932

    The clear pear-shaped bottle is embossed on one side with a cherry tree and the dates “1732 and 1932”.  On the other, with a profile of Washington.  It was created by the Owens-Illinois Glass Co. of Huntington, West Virginia.

    Bicentennial bottle with George Washington profile. Owens-Illinois Glass Co., 1932.
    Bicentennial bottle with cherry tree. Owens-Illinois Glass Co., 1932

    Plates were another big commemorative item.  We have three plates issued by Crown Ducal, with the same scene of “Washington and his Mother” based on the print of the same name.  On the back with the Crown Ducal crest, it says, “George Washington Bicentenary Memorial Plates / 1732-1932 / First in War / First in Peace / First in the hearts of his countrymen”.  Crown Ducal released a series of twelve plates documenting Washington’s life.  Of course, we are a little biased and like the one with his mother, Mary Ball Washington, the best.

    Some companies even brought in Mrs. Martha Washington, like this set of plates from the Capital Souvenir Company.  These are two round commemorative plates depicting George and Martha Washington, both with an elaborate floral gilded border.

    George and Martha plate set, Capital Souvenir Company, 1932.
    George and Martha plate set, Capital Souvenir Company, 1932.

    Fun Bicentennial Fact:  On the eve of the birthday, Sears Roebuck was awarded a commission by the U.S. government to create a full-scale replica of Mount Vernon at the Exposition Coloniale Internationale in Paris.  The agreed-upon price was around $75,000, and every detail of the home was reproduced from brass hardware, mantelpieces, and even cabinets.  After the exposition, the house was bought by an American doctor working in Paris, and it was relocated to Vaucresson (a western suburb of Paris).  It still stands today as a private residence and was even on the market in 2012 for 27 million dollars.     

    George Washington’s Mount Vernon in Paris, France,1932
    George’s Mount Vernon in Vaucresson, France today

    Sears Roebuck also built the exact replica in Prospect Park, Brooklyn, NYC for the Bicentennial Commission. However, the house was not taken care of and boarded up and abandoned until it was eventually torn down. (The Brooklyn Daily Eagle, 1933) 

    Sears’ role in the reconstruction of Mount Vernon led to interest in their kit homes.  In 1932, they offered a house in their catalog, loosely based on Mount Vernon.  This model was oddly called “The Jefferson”.

    Sears Roebuck house kit “The Jefferson” which strangely resembles Mount Vernon.

    While we may not have as many George souvenirs, we are still putting on a big birthday party to celebrate George Washington and his time at Ferry Farm. 

    The party is on Monday, February 19th from 10am – 3 pm.  While enjoying the grounds of Ferry Farm, you can take a selfie with “George Washington,” participate in our annual stone-throwing contest, play colonial games, and eat birthday cupcakes (while supplies last).

    Additionally, guests can enjoy several educational stations, take an abbreviated Washington House tour, and talk with archaeologists, historians, and other experts to learn about Ferry Farm and the Washington Family.

    Heather Baldus

    Collections Manager

    References

    George Washington Bicentennial Commission. (1932). History of the George Washington Bicentennial Celebration. Washington D.C.

    Larson, E. (2004). The Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair That Changed America. New York City: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group.

    Subseries 5.8. Washington’s Birthday, Bicentennial Souvenirs, 1931-1932 . (2024). Retrieved from The George Washington Presidential Library at Mount Vernon: https://archives.mountvernon.org/repositories/3/archival_objects/14635

    The Brooklyn Daily Eagle. (1933, June 14). Fate in Doubt On Park Replica of Mt. Vernon. The Brooklyn Daily Eagle, p. 5.

    The Washington Post. (1932, January 2). 50,000 Stand In Line to Get New Stamps. The Washington Post, p. 1.

    The Washington Post. (1932, January 5). Bicentennial Stamps Profit. The Washington Post, p. 6.

  • Spilling the Tea: The Boston Tea Party at 250

    Author’s Note: This blog contains hyperlinks to primary documents related to the event.

    Figure 1: 250th Logo (Boston Tea Party Ships and Museum)

    Intro

    This year marks the 250th anniversary of the Boston Tea Party (Figure 1). Hailed as a defining moment in the quest for American independence and an act of patriotism, the event has inspired commemorations in many forms, and it remains a vital part of the American History curriculum. I, for one, thought it the epitome of achievement that I had the date memorized in kindergarten. Like much of our founding history, however, the story retains an element of myth. So, what exactly is the truth behind this event?  

    The Story

    A general account of the Boston Tea Party tells how patriotic Bostonians, angered by unfair taxes, boarded three ships in Boston Harbor on December 16, 1773. Disguised as members of the Mohawk or Narragansett tribes, Samuel Adams led the Sons of Liberty in protest by throwing crates of the King’s tea overboard. This act helped unite the colonies against Britain and started the chain of events that ended in the “Shot Heard Round the World” on Lexington Green on the morning of April 19, 1775, following Paul Revere’s ride.

    Sound familiar? In truth, this account covers the basics. It provides the “who,” “what,” “when,” “where,” and “why.” Nonetheless, it only scratches the surface of the complex event we know as the Boston Tea Party. To unpack this, let us look at what led to the event, how it happened, and the initial response.

    Truth of the Tax

    Taxes and tea sit at the heart of this story. The taxes that the colonies took issue with went into effect starting in the 1760s, with the ultimate goal of lessening the debt incurred by Britain during the Seven Years’ War. However, this set a new precedence as Britain had never taxed the colonists directly, and the passing of these tax laws occurred without consulting the colonies. The formal chant of “no taxation without representation” first appeared in 1768, and while the lack of representation presented a key reason for displeasure, the impact of taxes on merchants served as another.

    While the Tea Act of 1773 served as the catalyst for the Boston Tea Party, the Tea Tax had existed since 1767. Introduced under the Townshend Acts, the tax remained the only one in effect upon the Act’s repeal in 1770. General dislike for the tax persisted, but the Tea Act took the issue to another level. In an aim to bail out the East India Company (EIC), the Act granted a monopoly over the tea trade by opening the colonial market to the company as the sole supplier, waived their tax payment in favor of those paid by colonists, and mandated that only EIC company agents (consignees) could sell the tea (Figure 2). Many perceived this as a restriction on business, as merchants could no longer source tea from Britain and smugglers, freedom of choice and rights.  In truth, the protests against the tax and Tea Act occurred as a matter of principle since the cost of tea actually dropped, with consumers now able to buy directly from a supplier who faced no additional costs.

    Figure 2: EIC Seal (East India Company)

    Build Up

    With the Boston Tea Party story often told in a bubble, it appears as an impulsive act, but far more happened behind the scenes. By the end of 1773, displeasure with the Tea Act made attempts of preventing the unloading of tea and boycotts of its purchase common. When Dartmouth, Beaver, and Eleanor anchored at Griffin’s Wharf (November 28-December 15), locals had expected their arrival since October and had spent November demanding the resignations of the consignees. Many foresaw the risk of tensions coming to a head, including Abigail Adams, who, on December 5, wrote that “the Tea that bainfull weed is arrived…The flame is kindled…Great will be the devastation if not timely quenched or allayed by some more Lenient Measures.”

    After successfully chasing the consignees out of town, Bostonians urged Francis Rotch, whose family owned two of the ships, to depart without unloading the cargo. The Sons of Liberty stationed a guard at the docks to ensure that the tea remained onboard while Rotch decided. In response, Royal Governor Thomas Hutchinson ordered Rotch to unload the cargo within the standard twenty days of arrival or forfeit it and the ships. Rotch thus found himself in an impossible situation as Hutchinson and customs refused to let him leave while the Sons would accept nothing less.

    December 16th

    Many awoke on December 16, knowing the crisis would come to a head. The date marked the deadline for unloading Dartmouth’s cargo, and Rotch would make one final attempt to plead his case to both sides. Hutchinson and customs refused to budge, which further incensed Bostonians when Rotch reported that the tea would not be leaving. This announcement came as Samuel Adams headed a meeting at the Old South Meeting House (Figure 3).

    Figure 3: Adams’ Speech at Old South (Revolutionary Spaces)

    Serving as a leading figure within the Sons of Liberty, Adams had led many of the meetings and attacks that occurred almost daily in the buildup to the 16th. This particular meeting drew 5,000-7,000 people who clamored to hear the latest developments in the tea crisis. When Rotch’s news broke, Adams stated, “This meeting can do nothing further to save the country.” While often billed as a signal to start the Tea Party, doubt remains over the statement’s significance. According to eyewitness accounts, many stayed another 15 minutes, and Adams tried to prevent people from leaving before the meeting concluded.

    Regardless of intent, hundreds of people made their way to Griffin’s Wharf. Along the way, some donned disguises that mimicked Native Americans. These disguises served both practical and symbolic purposes. First, donning a disguise shielded the identity of individuals carrying out the illegal acts, even if no one mistook them for actual tribal members. Secondly, the choice of a Native American-inspired look embraced an allegory of America and linked Indigenous resistance to colonization with the colonists’ struggle against Britain (Figure 4).

    Figure 4: “Allegory of the Continent of America,” c. 1750 (The Clark Museum)

    Interestingly, Adams never claimed or denied involvement with the Tea Party, yet, in contrast to popular depictions, he did not appear at the harbor that night. Instead, he remained at Old South. Of the participants, only the identities of 116 are known, and only one faced arrest.

    Figure 5: The Boston Tea Party, 1789, (LoC)
    Figure 6: The Boston Tea Party, c. 1872, (NYPL)

    The day after, Samuel’s cousin, John Adams, described the event as “the most magnificent Movement of all. There is a Dignity, a Majesty, a Sublimity in this last Effort of the Patriots that I greatly admire. The People should never rise without doing something to be remembered—something notable And striking. This Destruction of the Tea is so bold, so daring, so firm, intrepid and inflexible, and it must have so important Consequences, and so lasting, that I cant but consider it as an Epocha in History.“

    Reactions

    Despite a post-independent America enshrining the Boston Tea Party in glory, most initial reactions proved far less enthusiastic than that of John Adams. The name “Boston Tea Party” did not emerge until the 1820s, and even then, “Party” referred to a group of people rather than something celebratory. Instead, mentions of the event usually identified it by what happened, such as “the destruction of the tea” (Figure 7).

    Figure 7: “Tea that was gathered up on the shore of Dorchester Neck on the morning after the destruction of the three cargos at Boston; December 17, 1773” (MHS)

    While Parliament’s taxes made many colonists unhappy, they also valued their right to private property. In the case of the Boston Tea Party, the ships that the Sons of Liberty trespassed on belonged to Americans, while the EIC owned the destroyed tea. The King and Parliament had no direct connection to the ships or their cargo. As such, many viewed the attack as one on private property rather than a true strike against Parliament. Those who spoke out against it included Founding Fathers. Benjamin Franklin felt “truly concern’d…that there should seem to any a Necessity for carrying Matters to such Extremity, as, in a Dispute about Publick Rights, to destroy private Property.” Meanwhile, George Washington supported taking a stand against taxation and felt the cause of Boston equated to the cause of America, but ultimately could not “approve their cond[uc]t in destroyg the Tea.”

    Impact

    In the short run, the Boston Tea Party did little to fan the flames of independence. It inspired a few more boycotts (i.e., the Annapolis, Edenton, and Yorktown Tea Parties) and furthered a decline in consumption, but the British response to the event served as the primary catalyst. By punishing all of Boston, and by extension, Massachusetts Bay Colony, rather than just those responsible, the British infringed upon the rights of the colonists. Under the Coercive (nicknamed “Intolerable”) Acts, the British closed the harbor, demanded Bostonians pay damages to the EIC, imposed martial law, and required citizens to house, or quarter, members of the military on their property at their own expense (Figure 8).

    Figure 8: “The Bostonians in Distress;” 1774 Satire of the Boston Port Act (LoC)

    Those living in the twelve other colonies did not take well to this, as they feared the implementation of these acts in their homes. In response, the First Continental Congress met in Philadelphia from September to October 1774. While some delegates saw the issue as a Massachusetts one, others pressed the need to take a stand against the overreaches of Parliament and sympathized with Massachusetts. They concluded Congress by issuing their Declaration and Resolves, which listed objections to Parliament and confirmed their commitment to a trade boycott. However, when news of Lexington & Concord broke in April 1775, and Massachusetts found itself at war, the other colonies quickly had to decide which side they would take.

    Legacy

    Two hundred fifty years on, the Boston Tea Party remains an iconic event in American history and a pivotal moment in the founding of the country (Figure 9). While not wholly embraced as such upon its occurrence, the retelling of the event over time came to enshrine it in lore and leave out details that complicated the narrative. This shows that one cannot study a singular event without contextualizing it within the bigger picture. Nevertheless, John Adams’ belief that the “Destruction of the Tea” would become an epoch in history proved correct.

    Figure 9: Robinson Tea Chest – 1 of 2 surviving chests (Boston Tea Party Ships and Museum)

    Emma Schlauder

    Research Archaeologist

    Bibliography

    Adams, Abigail. Abigail Adams to Mercy Otis Warren, 5 December 1773. Letter. From National Archives, Adams Papers. https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Adams/04-01-02-0065 (accessed Nov 13, 2023).

    Adams, John. [December 1773]. Diary. From National Archives, Adams Papers. https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Adams/01-02-02-0003-0008 (accessed Nov. 13, 2023).

    “Boston Tea Party History.” Boston Tea Party Ships & Museum (website). https://www.bostonteapartyship.com/boston-tea-party-history (accessed Nov. 14, 2023).

    Cooper, Samuel. To Benjamin Franklin from Samuel Cooper, 17 December 1773. Letter. From National Archives, Franklin Papers. https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Franklin/01-20-02-0266 (accessed Nov. 13, 2023).

    “Declaration and Resolves of the First Continental Congress.” American Battlefields Trust (website). https://www.battlefields.org/learn/primary-sources/declaration-and-resolves-first-continental-congress (accessed Nov. 14, 2023).

    Franklin, Benjamin. From Benjamin Franklin to the Massachusetts House Committee of Correspondence, 2 February 1774. Letter. From National Archives, Franklin Papers. https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Franklin/01-21-02-0023 (accessed Nov. 13, 2023).

    ““Made one of the celebrated Tea Party in Boston harbor:” Remembering the Boston Tea Party in 1826.” American Battlefields Trust (website). https://www.battlefields.org/learn/primary-sources/made-one-celebrated-tea-party-boston-harbor (accessed Nov. 14, 2023).

    ““No Taxation Without Representation:” The Evolution of the Historic Phrase.” American Battlefields Trust (website). https://www.battlefields.org/learn/articles/no-taxation-without-representation (accessed Nov. 14, 2023).

    “Participants in the Boston Tea Party.” Boston Tea Party Ships & Museum (website). https://http://www.bostonteapartyship.com/participants-in-the-boston-tea-party#participant-list (accessed Nov. 14, 2023).

    Schiff, Stacy. The Revolutionary Samuel Adams. New York: Little, Brown and Company, 2022. “Tea Act.” American Battlefields Trust (website). https://www.battlefields.org/learn/primary-sources/tea-act (accessed Nov. 14, 2023).

     “The Boston Tea Party.” Massachusetts Historical Society (website). https://www.masshist.org/revolution/teaparty.php (accessed Nov 14, 2023).

    “The Final Straw.” Boston Tea Party Ships & Museum (website). https://www.bostonteapartyship.com/the-final-straw (accessed Nov 14, 2023).

    “The Intolerable Acts.” Boston Tea Party Ships & Museum (website). https://www.bostonteapartyship.com/the-intolerable-acts (accessed Nov 14, 2023).

    The Massachusetts Gazette; and the Boston Post-Boy and Advertiser. “Philadelphia, September 29. Extract of a letter from London, August 4.” From Massachusetts Historical Society. https://www.masshist.org/database/viewer.php?pid=2&old=1&mode=nav&ft+Coming% &nbsp 20of%20the%20American%20Revolution&item_id=434 (accessed Nov. 13, 2023).

    “The Secret Plan.” Boston Tea Party Ships & Museum (website). https://www.bostonteapartyship.com/the-secret-plan (accessed Nov 14, 2023).

    “Townshend Act.” American Battlefields Trust (website). https://www.battlefields.org/learn/primary-sources/townshend-act (accessed Nov. 14, 2023).

    Washington, George. From George Washington to George William Fairfax, 10–15 June 1774. Letter. From National Archives, Washington Papers. https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Washington/02-10-02-0067 (accessed November 13, 2023).

  • Liberty vs. The King: National Identities in Two Lewis Family Drinking Vessels

    Visitors to Kenmore’s Drawing Room may have noticed an unusual pairing of glassware and ceramic pieces displayed on the gaming table – a beautiful, air-twist stem wine glass sitting next to a Westerwald pottery jug. At first glance, this small vignette may simply appear to depict a wine jug at the ready, waiting to fill the glasses of those seated for the card game. But a closer inspection reveals that there’s more to the story.

    The gaming table in Historic Kenmore’s Drawing Room.
    Air-twist stem wine glass sitting next to a Westerwald pottery jug on the gaming table.

    In addition to its delicate air twists and balusters, the cup of the wine glass is etched with intricate designs. On one side, there’s a rose, and on the other is the word “Liberty.” The rose refers to the Scottish House of Stuart and their exiled claimant to the Scottish throne, the Bonnie Prince Charlie. The word “Liberty”, in this case, refers to the Jacobite Uprising of 1745 – 1746, in which the Scottish clans attempted to overthrow the English king and re-install the Bonnie Prince, thereby ending the English occupation of Scotland. The Uprising ended in a bloodbath for the Scottish forces at Culloden Moor, and the Bonnie Prince remained in exile for the rest of his life. The defeat at Culloden ushered in a period of extreme violence and repression of Scottish Highland culture known today as the Clearances. Thousands of Scots were forced from their homes and prosecuted in English courts for crimes against the Crown. Those found guilty were often sentenced to “transportation,” which meant they were crowded onto prison ships and sent to the American colonies.

    The stoneware jug is decorated in typical Westerwald-style cobalt blue glaze patterns, with the addition of a sprigged central medallion bearing the letters “GR.” Those initials stand for Georgius Rex, the Latin for King George of Britain, probably George III in this case. Westerwald ceramics produced in what is now Germany for export to Britain in the 18th century were often decorated with the GR emblem in honor of King George. Most British households, including young George Washington’s home at Ferry Farm, would have had a piece or two exhibiting the GR motif.

    Both items are included in Kenmore’s furnishings today because fragments of similar pieces were found archaeologically on the site during excavations in the 1990s, so we know that both were used by the Lewis family at very nearly the same time. The juxtaposition of their messages, though, illustrates what a very strange and confusing time the Lewis family were living in. Literally up until the very eve of the American Revolution, Fielding Lewis saw himself very much as a proper English subject. His business relied almost entirely on good relations with English counterparts. He built Kenmore to emulate in every way the proper English manor house, and apparently he owned ceramics that honored King George.

    Almost overnight, however, the Lewis’s world completely changed. They were no longer English subjects, but rather traitors to the Crown. Fielding’s income and business were gone, and his very English house was now a liability. Those transported Jacobites living in the American colonies, many of them neighbors to the Lewises like Hugh Mercer, were among those who advocated for war with Britain. The symbols and ideals of the Jacobite Uprising were adopted into the American revolutionary movement. And so our placement of the Liberty glass next to the GR jug on the gaming table is both a wink and a nod to the idea of rebellion hidden in plain sight, and a recognition of the complicated times in which the Lewis’s found themselves.

    Celebrate the 245th anniversary of liberty from the King during the Fourth of July at George Washington’s Ferry Farm from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m., Sunday, July 4, 2021! Tour the Washington house, learn about archaeology at Ferry Farm, enjoy a patriotic flag retirement ceremony at 1:00 p.m., interact with historic reenactors, listen to festive music, view living history demonstrations and theatre performances, make crafts, play games, and enjoy other activities for the whole family. $5.00 per car for a combined parking and event admission pass. Advance purchase of parking and event admission pass is strongly encouraged. Visit kenmore.org/events to learn more and purchase pass.

    Meghan Budinger
    Aldrich Director of Curatorial Operations

  • Washington and the Culper Spy Ring

    At George Washington’s Ferry Farm, we largely focus on George’s youth but also eagerly research and learn as much as we can about all periods of his life. During our unexpected closure due to COVID-19, some of our interpretive staff had the chance to study a little more about Washington and the Culper Spy Ring for a reading group we created.

    Early on during the American Revolution, it was apparent to George Washington that he would need a way to get information about British troop movements and, hopefully, their overall plans. The Siege of Boston was a huge success for Washington and his Continentals, but capturing New York proved to be much tougher. In fact, New York remained occupied by the British for the entire war but Washington continued to hope that he could liberate the city. And in that hope, he knew he needed intelligence from inside the city. Everyone who crossed the border, however, was searched by British soldiers and any direct letters were confiscated and the bearer convicted of treason.

    After a failed attempt by a young solider named Nathan Hale, Washington knew the intelligence would be very difficult to gather, and even more difficult to transmit. He called upon another young Yalie named Benjamin Tallmadge to help him with his goal. In November of 1778, Tallmadge began The Culper Spy Ring. He contacted operatives in New York City and they developed a complex system of routes to pass along information. The operatives in Manhattan passed the information to a carrier in Long Island and then eventually a second carrier brought the information to Tallmadge in Connecticut.

    Benjamin Tallmadge (1790) by Ralph Earl
    Portrait of Benjamin Tallmadge along with his son William painted after the war in 1790 by Ralph Earl. Credit: Wikipedia

    The identity of the spies was so restricted that of the five operatives known to have helped, at least one of their identities is still highly debated by historians. Washington himself did not want to know their real names thus the agents were given nicknames. For example, Benjamin Tallmadge was called John Bolton, Abraham Woodhull went by Samuel Culper, and Robert Townsend was referred to as Samuel Culper, Jr.

    The spy ring also developed a code that used over 760 combinations of numbers to represent people, places, and things. For example, Washington was 711, New York City was 727, and the lone female spy was referred to as 355. Of course, randomly filling a letter with numbers was a sure way to get caught, so they also used invisible ink and ciphers.

    Culper Code
    A page from the key to the Culper code. Credit: Library of Congress

    Even with all these precautions, the work was dangerous and risky. The news traveled to Washington too slowly to be of much use, and he pressured Tallmadge to speed up the process. The spies were constantly in danger of being found out.

    However, the Culper Spy Ring is credited with several key achievements. In 1780, the French Army arrived to reinforce Washington’s men and their ships landed in Rhode Island. The British knew they were coming and the spy ring passed that information along to Washington. He arranged a ruse to distract the British and allow the French to land without conflict. The Culper Spy Ring also unearthed some of the information that would lead to the discovery of Benedict Arnold’s treason as well as the capture of a major British intelligence officer, John André.

    So, after reading about the Culper Spy Ring, one historic interpreter who leads tours of the Washington house was happy to share the part of the story that made them most interested in the intricate spy ring that helped win the Revolution.

    Thanks to modern depictions, when I think of a spy the image that immediately comes to mind is someone with all the newest technology and an expensive taste in cars and clothes. Those that made up the Culper Spy Ring couldn’t be farther from the glamorized and romanticized depiction of spies that we have come so used to seeing. Though the five that made up the ring were from different walks of life and social statuses, they worked together (not always seamlessly) for a cause they believed to be worth more than their own lives. Through rather mundane means and careful exchanges, they were able to provide the key information for Washington under the nose of the enemy. The daring escapes across water by Caleb Brewster in a rowboat while taunting the most powerful naval force in the world were both hilarious and unbelievable. Brewster’s personality and general lifestyle makes him the odd one out in my mind. However, he also seems to be one of the most willing in many cases and jokes about the British not being able to catch him. Brewster’s personality more closely matches that classic spy image but his means are what really catch your attention. – Hunter Robinson

    Elizabeth Hosier
    Manager of Interpretation and Visitor Services

  • Josiah Wedgwood: Man of Pottery and Principles

    The 18th century was dominated by the ideas of the Enlightenment which gave rise to a range of principles like liberty, equality, constitutional government, and free enterprise.  It was a revolution in thought led not by politicians and soldiers, but by a handful of thinkers, scientists, artisans, and merchants. Josiah Wedgwood was a thinker, scientist, artisan, merchant all rolled into one. He became one of the founding fathers of the industrial revolution, creating a new artistic industrialism that used the division of labors, scientific experimentation, and commerce to make affordable yet quality products that democratized artistry.[1]

    Josiah Wedgwood (1780) by George Stubbs
    Josiah Wedgwood (1780) by George Stubbs. Enamel on a Wedgwood ceramic tablet at the Wedgwood Museum in Barlaston, Stoke-on-Trent, England. Credit: Wedgwood Museum / Daderot / Wikipedia

    In his heart, Wedgwood believed that man could create a better world through self-improvement, education, and commerce.   Although he lived in England, he saw the American colonists’ struggle against taxation imposed on them and America’s potential as a capital of finance and freedom smothered under a foreign ruler. He was naturally sympathetic to their plight. Wedgwood spent the Revolutionary War trying to walk the fine line between being a patriotic British merchant and a radical dissenter.

    Josiah Wedgwood was born in July of 1730 in Burslem, England to a family of potters that stretched back more than four generations.  When he was a child, he survived a bout of small pox that left his left leg too weak to work a potter’s wheel. This led him to focus his energies on design rather than the physical production of ceramics.[2]

    In 1759, he set up his own pottery called Ivory Works. The pottery had swift success and became one of the largest manufacturers of Staffordshire pottery, known particularly for fine earthen and stonewares.  Demand for quality minimalistic earthenware design was high among the English at the time. Wedgewood devoted himself to glaze development, kiln technology, and marketing to fulfill demand. He perfected a cream-colored earthenware which took over 5000 glaze tests to get the color just right. He developed a new colored unglazed body known as “jasper” that allowed for the production of two-color ornamental wares to match the public’s desire for minimalistic, neo-classical styling.[3]

    Wedgwood became a producer of fine ceramics and transformed pottery-making into an industry that rivaled European porcelain in elegance of shape, durability, and lightness of weight.  In 1765, shortly after opening his first London showroom, he got a huge break when he was invited to take part in a contest to design a tea set for Queen Charlotte.  It took months of experiments but his gilded tea set with green flowers won the competition.  With royal recognition, Wedgwood became a Georgian super brand, distinguished by quality while delivering artistic perfection on an industrial scale.[4]

    860031
    Dating from about 1765, this circular Wedgwood plate has a molded shell edge and is finely painted in deep purple with flowers and leaves. The edge is feathered in purple.

    Why was America so important?

    In the middle of the 18th century, a new consumer group appeared: the middling class.  This middling class was particularly prevalent in the American Colonies.  They wanted British goods like sugar, coffee, chocolate, and tea and their accompanying accessories and ceramics to show off their new social status and refinement.[5]

    Pre-Revolutionary War, America did not have a single pottery manufacturer to create tea accoutrements like teapots and saucers capable of matching the quality and aesthetic of Wedgwood.  Thus, America became a good client in the booming British export trade and one of Wedgwood’s most important overseas markets.  The colonies, in fact, became such a huge market that “around half of all English exports of copperware, ironware, glassware, earthenware, silk goods, printed cotton and linen goods, and flannels were shipped to colonial consumers.” Josiah took advantage of this boom and packed as many crates as possible on Liverpool ships bound for the New World.[6]

    85024 cd
    This miniature covered creamware Wedgwood coffeepot dates from between 1785-1800. It has a plain loop handle, straight spout, and knob finial and is painted with underglaze iron red scattered flower sprays and border stripes. The lid is dome-shaped.

    “All the world are with the Ministers & against the poor Americans…”

    There were two reasons why Josiah Wedgwood disagreed with the war against America, one was philosophical and one was financial.  Wedgwood enjoyed the American boom in ceramic exports and worried about what taxation and colonial unrest might have upon his trade.  Many businessmen with interests in America saw a threat to the market for British goods with undue taxes like the Stamp Act of 1765. They agreed with future Prime Minister Lord Pitt’s criticism “that this kingdom has not right to lay a tax on the colonies…Trade is your object with them and taxing was ill advised.  If you do not make suitable laws for them, they will make laws for you.”  Because of the strong opposition from merchants and American resistance, the Stamp act was repealed. However, that did not ease the anxieties of Wedgwood and other merchants.[7]

    Wedgwood knew he had much to lose if American markets became inaccessible because of war stating, “the bulk of our particular manufacture you know is exported to foreign markets for our home consumption is very trifleing [sic] in comparison to what is send aboard, …this trade to our Colonies.” He continued, “we are apprehensive of losing in a few years.”[8]

    Legislation continued to cut into Wedgwood’s trade and profits. Besides imposing an indirect tax on the colonists, the Townshend Acts of 1767 got rid of a refund on the duty that manufacturers paid, which meant it would cost more to export goods to the colonies.  In 1775, Parliament issued the New England Restraining Acts, restricting the Colonies’ trade and commerce to Great Britain, Ireland, and the British West Indies.  This was Parliament’s response to the declaration of the Continental Congress in the fall of 1774 instigating a “non-consumption agreement” and promising “we will not import, into British America, from Great Britain or Ireland, any goods, wares, or merchandise whatsoever.”  By the next year, diplomatic and commercial relations had broken down and, three months before the Declaration of Independence was signed, American ports were officially closed to British trading ships.[9]

    This all had a major effect on commerce for merchants and manufacturers like Wedgwood.   In 1770, customs and excise officers recorded over 1.2 million pieces of glass and earthenware shipped to America.  In 1775, less than 139,000 pieces had been shipped.[10]

    840018
    An oval form with a tall, off-center oval foot rim. The inside is molded with fluted sides, a deep pear, and two flanking leaves on bottom. This Wedgwood form dates from between 1810 and 1820.

    Enlightenment Philosophy at Work

    While war took a large chunk out of Wedgwood’s bottom line, that was not the only reason he opposed war.  He was a man of the Enlightenment and held fast to many of the philosophical principles that formed the basis for this new America.

    Josiah was born and raised a Unitarian.  The seven principles of Unitarianism include the belief in the inherent worth and dignity of every person, the free and responsible search for truth, the use of democratic process, and peace, liberty, and justice for all.  Wedgwood grew up in a society that created its own culture distinct from the Anglican status quo, a culture with a strong sense of morality and responsibility. So his interests in the ideas of the Enlightenment were not too surprising.[11]

    Josiah delved into the Enlightenment, reading many of the writings from the great thinkers of the time including John Locke’s Treatise on Education, Adam Smith’s Wealth of Nations, and Thomas Paine’s Common Sense.  They all talked about concepts of self-improvement, education, liberty, and inalienable rights. Wedgwood truly believed in these principles and put them into practice in his own life and business by trying to use his company and wealth for the social good.  He reinvested profits back into the company to create a better standard of living for the employees in under his care.  Schools were started for the workers’ children, additional training was made available for workers, and work place safety was improved with the elimination of harmful lead glazes and the constant search for better environmental practices.  He believed that the people mattered more than the profit.[12]

    87544
    A “Queen’s” shape Wedgwood plate from 1956 with a view of Kenmore as the center transfer-print. The six lobed rim is transfer-printed in brown with various leaves.

    With the American Revolution and then the French Revolution, he saw a chance to create societies built upon Enlightenment philosophies that could flourish without an authoritarian regime and without imposition of unnecessary taxation. A society ruled by reason, truth and free enterprise.  Wedgwood’s idealism was high.  Life does not always follow abstract principles, however, and he would struggle to balance his ideals with political, financial, and social realities.[13]

    He supported America’s right to self-rule and knew the colonists were a force to be reckoned with commercially. Yet, he was also a British businessman with a prominent reputation.  At home, he had to balance his principles with his need to seem patriotic.  He tried to stress to government ministers the economic devastation a war would have on Britain but he was clear in his opinion of “the absurdity, folly & wickedness of our whole proceedings with America.”[14]

    Wedgwood lived to see America’s victory in the struggle for independence, passing away in January 1795.  He and his business had survived the war with their Enlightenment ideals and financial success intact.[15]

    Heather Baldus
    Collections Manager

     

    [1] Wilson, A.N., The Genius of Josiah Wedgwood, BBC Two, April 19, 2013.

    [2] “Josiah Wedgewood (1730-95) ,” The Royal Collection Trust, rct.uk/collection/people/josiah-wedgwood-1730-95#/type/subject; Pirie, Madsen. “Josiah Wedgwood, An Industrial Revolution Pioneer.” Adam Smith Institute, The Adam Smith Institute, 12 July 2019, adamsmith.org/blog/josiah-wedgewood-an-industrial-revolution-pioneer

    [3] Perry, Mike. “WEDGWOOD (JOSIAH WEDGWOOD & SONS LTD),” Pottery Histories potteryhistories.com/page99.html; Wilson, The Genius of Josiah Wedgwood; “Josiah Wedgewood (1730-95) ,” The Royal Collection Trust.

    [4] “Josiah Wedgewood (1730-95) ,” The Royal Collection Trust; Wilson, The Genius of Josiah Wedgwood.

    [5] Berg, Maxine. “Men and Women of the Middling Classes: Acquisitiveness and Self-Respect.” Luxury and Pleasure in Eighteenth-Century Britain, Oxford University Press, 2007, 199-246; Dolan, Brian. Wedgwood: The First Tycoon. New York City, Viking, 2004, 74-75; Wilson, The Genius of Josiah Wedgwood.

    [6] Wilson, The Genius of Josiah Wedgwood; Dolan, 250, 75.

    [7] Dolan, 160-161.

    [8] Dolan, 161.

    [9] Dolan, 160, 254.

    [10] Dolan, 254.

    [11] “The Seven Principles.” Our Faith, Unitarian Universalist Association, 2020, uua.org/beliefs/what-we-believe/principles; Wilson, The Genius of Josiah Wedgwood.

    [12] Dolan, 253, 266.

    [13] Dolan, 314.

    [14] Dolan, 255.

    [15] Dolan, 323.

  • Siblings Strained by Revolution: George and Betty’s Wartime Letters

    George Washington was the oldest of Augustine and Mary Washington’s five children. The next oldest was daughter Betty, who was born 14 months after George and was his only sister. 

    George and Betty are immensely important to us at George Washington’s Ferry Farm & Historic Kenmore. They spent their formative years at Ferry Farm and Betty called Kenmore home for two decades.  As main characters in our historic sites’ stories, we often ponder what their relationship as siblings was like.

    Portrait of Betty Washington Lewis by John Wollaston, c. 1755. Credit: Mount Vernon Ladies Association
    Portrait of Betty Washington Lewis by John Wollaston, c. 1755. Credit: Mount Vernon Ladies Association
    Portrait of George Washington, 1772 by Charles Willson Peale. Credit: National Portrait Gallery
    Portrait of George Washington, 1772 by Charles Willson Peale. Credit: National Portrait Gallery

    The best and, frankly, only gauge of George and Betty’s relationship are the letters they wrote to one another later in their lives.  Twenty-four letters written between 1779 and 1796 have survived. They wrote more than just these two dozen but many have not been found.  The 24 that have survived depict a complex relationship of sibling love and camaraderie tempered by occasional conflict.  Let’s begin, on this National Siblings Day, a multi-post examination of George and Betty’s letters and what they may indicate about the relationship of this historically consequential brother and sister.

    In our first post, we look at the letters George and Betty wrote to one another during the Revolutionary War.  There are only two, both from the hand of Betty, but they are profoundly interesting, nonetheless.

    The first surviving letter comes in 1779 while George was away commanding the Continental Army.  He had been commander-in-chief for four years by that time and, during the second half of 1779, his service found him headquartered at the highly-fortified and strategically important West Point, New York overlooking the Hudson River.  On September 21, Betty wrote her brother there to thank him for “the miniature Picture—for which I am much Indetted”.  The miniature was painted by Charles Willson Peale and was a small version of his portrait of Washington commemorating the American victories at Trenton on December 26, 1776 and Princeton on January 3, 1777. Peale painted s miniature copy of the portrait specifically for Betty indicating that either George wanted to share his likeness with his sister or that Betty had requested a likeness of her brother that she could have while he was away fighting.

    George Washington at the Battle of Princeton (1779) by Charles Willson Peale
    “George Washington at the Battle of Princeton” (1779) by Charles Willson Peale. Credit: Yale University Art Gallery

    Indeed, this letter shows that Betty cleared missed George.  In sharing that she, her husband Fielding, and their daughter also named Betty had recently visited George’s wife Martha, Betty noted her wish that she could have found George there upon their arrival at Mount Vernon. Doing so, she wrote, “would of Compleat’d My Happiness.”  It had been at least four long years since Betty had laid eyes on George.  Closing the letter, she wistfully expressed her longing for the war’s end, writing, “O when will that Day Come that we Shall meet again[?]—I trust in the Lord soon, till when you have the sincere Prayr’s and Good wishes for your helth [sic] and happiness.”

    The only other surviving wartime letter written between George and Betty comes towards the end of the Revolutionary War and reveals a bit more conflict in the sibling relationship than the first.  It is dated August 25, 1783 and is quite a confusing and unclear letter at times.

    Betty begins by congratulating George on “the happy Change in our Affairs” because she hoped “it will be the meanes of our Seeing you Soon”.  Betty may simply be congratulating George on the looming end of the war but, at the same time, throughout her letter she refers to more than one event that happened back at the end of 1781.  Indeed, much in the letter seems to indicate that their correspondence had lapsed for a substantial amount of time and that this is may be a catching up letter. If so, then perhaps her good wishes are for George’s victory at Yorktown and the surrender of General Lord Cornwallis back on October 19, 1781?

    Surrender of Lord Cornwallis (1820) by John Trumbull
    “Surrender of Lord Cornwallis” (1820) by John Trumbull. Credit: Architect of the Capitol

    Regardless, Betty is quite upset that she has not heard from George in an extraordinarily long time.  She starkly admonishes him for not writing, saying “I have been at a loss how to account for your long silence,[.] the multiplicity of Business you have on your mind is the only One I Can find that flatters me [that] I am not quite forgot[ten.]”  While acknowledging the pressures on his time as the army’s commander, Betty scolds her “Dear Brother” for not finding “one half [h]Our you Could Spare to write a few lines to an only Sister whoe [sic] was lab[o]ring under so mutch [sic] Affliction both of Body and mind.”

    The affliction faced by Betty was the deaths of both her brother Samuel and her husband Fielding, which she says took place within three weeks of one another.  Samuel died on September 26, 1781.  Fielding’s death did not actually take place until sometime between December 10, 1781, when he swore out a codicil to his will, and January 17, 1782, when his will and codicil were presented in court.  Perhaps Betty mistakenly wrote the word “weeks” when she actually meant “months”?  Perhaps time and grief caused her to misremember the length of the interval between the two deaths?  Perhaps she was attempting to make George feel guilty for his long silence?  Regardless, save for the Yorktown victory, late 1781 was indeed a grim time for Betty and it seemed to affect her physical health, if not also her mental health.  She told George that “the uneasiness of mind it Caus’d me to get in an Ill state of helth and I expect’d Shortly to follow them”.  She feared joining Samuel and Fielding.

    Betty writes that her illness “happen’d at a time when every thing Contributed to ad[d] to my uneasiness” including a failure to see George when he apparently passed directly through or close to Fredericksburg on his way north after Yorktown.  We’re not entirely sure George actually went through his hometown on this trip.  Betty’s opaque phrasing — “your being in Fredericksburg the only Chance we had of seeing you from the Commencement of the War” — is not terribly helpful in figuring it out.  She is upset because she missed seeing him during his visit or because this was his only visit since the war started or because he passed close to town without stopping at all.

    There is evidence, however, that George did travel directly through Fredericksburg but that Betty and his family were not in town at that moment and so did not see him.  In a letter written to George on March 13, 1782, Mary, his mother, laments not being at home “when you went through fredirecksburg [sic].”  She indicates that she was “over the Mountains”, perhaps meaning present-day Berkeley Springs, West Virginia, where the Lewis and Washington families often traveled to use the hot springs for pleasure and medicinal reasons.  Indeed, fearing targeted abduction by the British during the fighting in Virginia in the fall of 1781, Fielding took Mary and Betty and fled to a Lewis property probably in or near today’s Berkeley Springs.  With Fielding in exceedingly poor health, it is thought that this is where he ultimately died, which would put the family there until at least December 1781.  George passed through or near to Fredericksburg sometime in November.

    After her scolding and laments, Betty did end her letter to George with a bit of hope and expresses again how much she missed him.  She tells him that she is “Recovering my helth fast and Please my self with thoughts of Shortly Seeing you once more with us.”  But, in a postscript, she gives one more scolding to her beloved brother, saying “I Wrote you three Letters when you was in Virginia but never heard if you got One of them.”

    These two wartime letters written by Betty Lewis to her brother George Washington reveal a complex relationship between the two siblings.  It was a relationship characterized by love and by the deep sadness of absence.  It was also a relationship strained by the tensions and difficulties of war and by George’s all-consuming responsibilities as Commander-in-Chief of the Continental Army.

    Zac Cunningham
    Manager of Educational Programs

  • Why Did Yankee Doodle Call a Feather “Macaroni”?

    Vintage July 4th Postcard
    A vintage Independence Day postcard with the beginning lyrics of “Yankee Doodle”.

    In honor of the Independence Day tomorrow, I want to talk about a pressing question I had as a child pertaining to one of our most popular patriotic songs “Yankee Doodle”.

    We all know the first verse.

    Yankee Doodle went to town
    A-riding on a pony,
    Stuck a feather in his cap
    And called it macaroni.

    The question is why did he call a feather in his cap “macaroni”?

    Macaroni does not refer to the tasty cheesy pasta dish that we all love and know.  It refers to an elaborate short-lived fashion trend in England at the end of the 18th century.  The trend started with upper-class youths who returned from their Grand Tours of mainland Europe with a great appreciation for continental style and taste.  They brought back the luxurious fabrics of the French as well as the pasta dishes of the Italians, thus macaroni was used to refer to the fashion trend.[1]

    The macaroni style consisted of a tight-sleeved coat with short skirts, waistcoat and knee breeches.  Macaroni emphasized pastel color, patterns and ornamentation like brocaded or embroidered silks and velvet.  On their head, they wore tall wigs with a rising front and “club” of hair behind that required an extensive amount of pomade and powder.  This wig was usually garnished with a large black satin wig-bag trimmed with bow.  The feet were clad in red-heeled slipper-like leather shoes with decorative buckles of diamond, paste or polished steel.  Additionally, as much ornamentation as possible was added with large floral nosegays, hanging watches, swords and tasseled walking sticks.[2]

    What is This My Son Tom (1774) published by R. Sayer & J. Bennett
    In this print titled “What is This My Son Tom” and published by R. Sayer & J. Bennett in 1774, an “honest farmer” is seen with his adult son, who has large, elaborate hairstyle and stylish clothes following the macaroni trend. Credit: Library of Congress

    To be “macaroni” was to be sophisticated, upper class, and worldly.  An elite figure marked by the cultivations of European travel, wealth and taste.

    So what did the British troops, who first sang the song about their colonial cousins, mean when they said that Mr. Yankee Doodle stuck a feather in his cap and called it macaroni?

    The song was not meant to be a compliment but rather a joke.  A “Yankee Doodle” was a simpleton who thought that just putting a feather in his hat would make him macaroni or fashionable when, in reality, he was just a country bumpkin.  He lacked class, could never mingle in high society, and was too simple to even realize it.

    It was obviously a broad generalization of Americans because in the colonies there was a broad range of fashion.  America didn’t have a global metropolis like London but wealthier colonists like Historic Kenmore’s Fielding and Betty Lewis could afford the luxurious imported fabrics and trendy ornamentation.[3]  Even with the delay in news from England the wealthy always tried to follow the a la mode styles.

    The average colonist would probably not have had a pastel silk waistcoat or stripped knee socks, however.  For them, linen, wool, cotton and linsey-woolsey were all common clothing fabrics in more natural or sedate colors.  An average person may only have had 2 or 3 outfits so durability was preferable to style.[4]

    What seems like just a silly sounding verse in a marching tune actually illustrates how the British viewed and had always viewed the colonies.   They looked down on the overseas colonies; after all if it wasn’t for the support of the Crown the initial colonial settlements might not have survived. They felt that the American colonists owed them a great deal for protection, for purveying their culture, for providing them with manufactured goods.[5]

    So, if the British were insulting Americans in “Yankee Doodle”, why is it such a common American patriotic song now?  Why would Connecticut even make it their state anthem?[6]

    As is often the case with insults leveled at a supposed inferiors by people who sees themselves as superior, the colonists appropriated the negative image of a Yankee Doodle and gave it a positive meaning.  No longer was this motley “macaroni” viewed as a garish fool but rather became a symbol of a homespun American identity.

    Yankee Doodle from Uncle Sam's panorama of Rip van Winkle and Yankee Doodle (1875) by Thomas Nast
    One of six scenes from the story of Yankee Doodle showing an Uncle Sam figure tipping his feathered top hat to the departing British represented by Britannia and the crowned lion and unicorn on King George III’s coat of arms. This scene and five others were pasted together to form a long panoramic strip on a late 19th century children’s toy made by McLoughlin Bros. and illustrated by Thomas Nast. Credit: Beinecke Library, Yale University.

    America was a place where your status in society was based on merits of work, enterprise, and earned wealth.  Your value didn’t come from an inherited title or a fancy ensemble but rather from your own abilities and hard work. In America, anyone could indeed stick a feather in his cap and rightly call it macaroni.   The British could keep their macaroni men, Americans would rather be a Yankee Doodle.

    Heather Baldus
    Collections Manager

    [1] Hair, Authenticity, and the Self-Made Macaroni, Amelia Rauser, 2004, pg 101

    [2] McNeil, Peter. “Macaroni Dress” https://fashion-history.lovetoknow.com/clothing-types-styles/macaroni-dress

    [3] The Revolution and the New Republic, 1775-1800 http://www.americanrevolution.org/clothing/colonial7.php

    [4] Baumgarten, Linda. “Looking at Eighteenth-Century Clothing” http://www.history.org/history/clothing/intro/clothing.cfm

    [5]  “Iron Tears,” a British View of American Revolution, Interview with Stanley Weintraub, July 3, 2005. https://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=4727956

    [6] Yankee Doodle, Connecticut State Song. https://statesymbolsusa.org/symbol-official-item/connecticut/state-song/yankee-doodle

  • LiberTEA

    With hindsight, the events of history often seem inevitable.  America was destined for independence from Britain.  All colonists were patriots who saw themselves as a nation and a people separate from the mother country.  This was absolutely not the case.  Colonists’ views on the appropriateness of independence evolved with events.  Over time, British identity gave way to American identity.

    US and UK flags
    The American Stars and Stripes and British Union Jack, the present-day flags of the United States and the United Kingdom. Credit: Hellerick / Wikipedia

    We have written several blog posts about how colonists, including members of the Washington family, clung to their Englishness.  They expressed this identity through Westerwald mugs emblazoned with ‘G.R.’ for Georgius Rex in homage to three British kings named George, including George III who would be the foe of the American independence movement. They expressed their English identity through pipe bowls emblazoned with the British royal coat of arms.  Even as protests against their lack of representation in Parliament increased, colonists still hung onto their English roots through, in the Washingtons’ case, wearing cuff links emblazoned with an image of King William III, who “came to represent the right of subjects to resist a king who was abusing power.”

    The shift from a British identity to an American identity took time as colonists gave up aspects of British culture while they resisted, first, governmental overreach and, then, ultimately embraced full national independence.

    Tea was one aspect of English culture given up as a political act to protest British rule and to show support for the American cause.  Abstention from tea drinking began with the Tea Act of 1773.  Parliament passed the Tea Act to bailout the financially troubled East India Company (EIC).[1]  The government told the Company that it could ship tea directly to the colonies, duty-free.  The EIC could get rid of loads of tea piling up in their London storerooms.  Colonists could get tea that was cheaper than the illegal stuff smuggled in.  Everyone should have been happy.  But everyone wasn’t.  The tea the Company sold to the colonists was to be taxed under the Townshend Acts.  If colonists purchased it, they indirectly accepted Parliament’s right to tax them without representation.[2]

    Tea became an emblem of British oppression and a boycott of the drink became a revolutionary act.  John Adams wrote to his wife Abigail that “Tea must be universally renounced and I must be weaned, and the sooner the better.”  Rejecting British culture, patriotic associations gave less than hospitable “tea parties” in Boston and Yorktown for merchants who continued to sell the politically incorrect brew.[3]  Less well-known was a tea party of sorts organized by the women of Edenton, North Carolina, who came together on October 25, 1774 and pledged to boycott tea and other British goods.  Whether politicians or housewives, Americans up and down the colonies joined these protests and vowed to never serve tea in their homes.[4]

    A Society of Patriotic Ladies
    “A society of patriotic ladies, at Edenton in North Carolina” printed for R. Sayer & J. Bennett on March 25, 1775 in London. This satirical print shows American women pledging to boycott English tea in response to Continental Congress resolution in 1774 to boycott English goods. Credit: Library of Congress.

    By at least May of 1774, Virginians near Fredericksburg had given up their tea.   Philip Vickers Fithian, tutor to the Carter family at Nomini Hall, visited some neighbors on May 19 and noted in his diary that he “Drank Coffee at four, they are now too patriotic to use tea.”[5] Indeed, as Fithan indicates and as we’ve previously explored in this post, coffee became Americans’ go-to substitute for tea.

    Fithian did not seem all that enthusiastic about the tea boycott, however. A few months later, he got very excited when “Something in our palace this Evening, very merry happened—Mrs Carter made a dish of Tea. At Coffee, she sent me a dish—& the Colonel both ignorant—He smelt, sipt—look’d—At last with great gravity he asks what’s this?—Do you ask Sir—Poh!—And out he throws it splash a sacrifice to Vulcan” [meaning the Roman god of fire, of course, and not Spock’s homeworld on Star Trek].[6]  While “the Colonel” Robert Carter III “did not volunteer for political or military service during the Revolution. He did, however, sign the Virginia loyalty oath and supported the non-importation agreements drawn up by the First Continental Congress.”  He patriotically did not partake of the British beverage but Fithian clearly missed his tea.

    For those who disliked coffee or simply still wanted tea, there was a black market to provide one with British tea but there were also American-grown substitutes that adhered to the boycott and came to be known as “Liberty Teas.”  Dr. Leonard Perry, extension professor at the University of Vermont, provides an excellent summary of tea substitutes used by early Americans during their tea boycotts…

    “One of the most common substitutes was the native American shrub New Jersey tea (Ceanothus americanus), also known then as Indian tea or Walpole tea.  Leaves of raspberry also were commonly used for these colonial teas, as were sweet fern and spicebush. Bark from some trees such as sassafras and willow were used.

    Common flowers used for the Liberty teas were sweet goldenrod (Solidago odora), red clover, chamomile, and violets.  Leaves of herbaceous plants such as bergamot (bee balm or Oswego tea), lemon balm, and mints were brewed as many are today.  Many herbs were brewed in the 18th century including parsley, thyme, marjoram, rosemary, and sage. Native Americans introduced the colonists to many of these plants which they often brewed to use medicinally.  Even some fruits were used in colonial teas, including those of dried strawberries, blueberries and apples.  Rosehips, rich in vitamin C and used today in teas, were used then as well.  “Indian lemonade tea” was made from boiling the berries of the red sumac.

    Often ingredients were combined, such as a common tea recipe of that time including equal parts sweet goldenrod, betony, clover, and New Jersey tea.”

    New Jersey tea (Ceanothus americanus)
    New Jersey tea (Ceanothus americanus). Credit: John Oyston / Wikipedia.

    Tea would return to American tables following the successful War for Independence.  There are several receipts from the 1790s that show Betty Washington Lewis purchasing tea, including a type of imported Chinese green tea, at Kenmore.  But, for the most part, these imported teas as well as the herbal liberty teas were ultimately eclipsed by coffee, which became, like tea for the British, the drink synonymous with American culture.

    Betty Lewis receipt for tea copy
    Receipt showing Betty Washington Lewis’ purchase of some “young hyson tea,” a type of Chinese green tea, on February 8, 1797.

    Visit Historic Kenmore on Saturday, May 4 for “Tea and Tour: The Ladies of Kenmore” focusing on the many generations of ladies who have called Kenmore home! Enjoy Kenmore tea and gingerbread while experiencing eighteenth-century tea service first hand. See the first floor of the mansion, learning the history of the grand 1775 home through vignettes, and meet a few of the extraordinary ladies of Kenmore along the way as part of this dramatic tour.

    Event admission is $20 Adults and $10 under 17.  Reservations required and there are only a very few spaces left. For more information and reservations, please call (540) 370-0732 ext. 24 or email events@gwffoundation.org.

    Zac Cunningham
    Manager of Educational Programs

    Heather Baldus
    Collections Manager

     

    [1] Breen, T. H., The Marketplace of Revolution, Oxford: University Press, 2004: 298-301.

    [2] Breen, 235-239.

    [3] Clark, F, “Chocolate and other Colonial Beverages” in Chocolate: History, Culture, and Heritage, 2009 (eds L. E. Grivetti and H.-Y. Shapiro), John Wiley & Sons, Inc., Hoboken, NJ: 276.

    [4] Root, Waverly et al., Eating in America, New York: Ecco, 1981: 127

    [5] Diary entry, May 19 1774 by Philip Vickers Fithian, Journal & Letters of Philip Vickers Fithian, 1773-1774: A Plantation Tutor of the Old Dominion, Williamsburg, VA: Colonial Williamsburg, 1943, 147.

    [6] Diary entry, September 26, 1774 by Fithian, 257.