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Declaration of Independence

Six Historic Fourth of July Celebrations

The Fourth of July has been celebrated with feasting, fireworks and festivity since Boston shot off cannons on the first anniversary of the Declaration of Independence.

The document wasn’t actually signed on the Fourth of July, as some of the signers weren’t even in Philadelphia that day. And John Adams thought the Second of July would be the day to remember, as that was when the Continental Congress voted for independence. The Fourth of July was the day the Congress adopted the document.

No matter. The first Fourth of July turned out to be cause for celebration year after year. Here are six of the oldest – and most historic – Fourth of July celebrations. If you know of another worth mentioning, please include it in the comments section below.

New Haven, Conn.

Yale College (left) and the State House.

In 1788, New Haven held a large and lavish Fourth of July celebration featuring a parade of working men grouped by their occupation. Cordwainers in a wagon made shoes as the parade wended its way from the long wharf to the Brick Meeting House. Blacksmiths made a hoe during the parade with anvil, hammer and bellows, while goldsmiths displayed a silver urn with 10 stars – one for each state that had adopted the Constitution.

According to a contemporary account, there were also sowers, reapers with sickles, thrashers with flails, butchers, barbers, distillers, bakers, tanners, curriers, leather dressers, stonecutters with chisels, cabinet makers, coppersmiths and braziers, watch and clock makers, coopers, painters, hatters with bows, weavers, tailors, boat builders, rope-makers wearing hempen girdles, shipwrights, a whaleboat with her crew, papermakers, printers, merchants, schoolmasters followed by their scholars, physicians, Yale College tutors, clergy, sheriffs, the common council, mayor, alderman, recorder, orator and high sheriff.

Roger Sherman, who signed the Declaration of Independence, attended the festivities. He heard Josiah Meigs, publisher of New Haven Gazette and Connecticut Magazine, read the Declaration of Independence and listened to a performance of a hymn composed by Barna Bidwell, a tutor at Yale College.

A feast was held at the Statehouse with at least one toast – to a model of the frigate USS Constitution. Patriotic toasts were probably drunk for George Washington and the veterans of the Revolution as well. After dinner came a ball. Outside, no doubt, there was plenty of noise. As a Yale student named Thomas Robbins wrote in his diary on July 4, 1796:

The students fired guns, etc., then came here and were very noisy, drinking toasts, etc.

New Haven over the years became the best place in the region to see fireworks on the Fourth of July.

Thomaston, Maine

Montpelier (Robert N. Dennis collection of stereoscopic views, New York Public Library).

Revolutionary War General Henry Knox led a Fourth of July celebration in 1795 that wasn’t the first in Maine, but it was certainly the grandest.

After the American Revolution, Knox relocated to Thomaston, Maine (then Massachusetts) where he built an estate and mansion, Montpelier.

Knox owned the better part of four counties in Maine, which he came by via his wife’s family. In 1795, with Montpelier finished, Knox came to Thomaston from Philadelphia. His mission was to develop the state. By 1795 he was busily building sawmills, kilns, quarries and brickyards to attract employees and tenants for his properties.

To promote the Maine endeavor, Knox opened Montpelier to any and all guests on the Fourth of July in 1795. The feast was legendary for its sheer size. Chicken, geese and an entire ox fed the crowds. More than 100 beds were made up for overnight guests. A delegation of Penobscot Indians, with whom Knox wanted peaceful relations, came and stayed more than a week. They finally left at Knox ‘s urging. He was annoyed by the length of their visit.

Knox would live barely 10 years after the celebration, and his plans for Maine met with limited success. Montpelier was torn down to make way for a railroad when the house fell into disrepair and no buyers could be found for it. Today no one will produce a feast for you, but you can visit a 1929 replica of Montpelier in Thomaston that operates as a museum.

Boston

The Old State House in Boston. The Declaration of Independence was read from the balcony.

Boston celebrated the first anniversary of the Declaration of Independence with joyful delirium.

The festivities began at dawn with a grand salute fired from cannon at Fort Independence and ships in the harbor. Gov. John Hancock proposed 13 toasts from the balcony of the Old State House, while cannons fired and Boston’s militia companies paraded, drilled and fired off their guns.

That day Boston established the tradition of Fourth of July oratory. It stemmed from the Boston Massacre speech delivered annually for 13 years commemorating that sad event. Rev. Dr. William Gordon of Roxbury preached a patriotic sermon to the General Court.

At night, a Col. Crafts illuminated the Boston Common. He ‘threw several shells, and exhibited a number of fireworks.’

Boston was the first municipality to officially designate the Fourth of July as a holiday, in 1783. And in 1929, Arthur Fiedler first took the podium to conduct the Boston Pops Orchestra’s performance of the 1812 Overture on the Esplanade. To this day, Boston celebrates with cannon, fireworks and church bells in one of the best attended Fourth of July celebrations in the country.

Portsmouth, N.H.

The Continental frigate Bonhomme Richard 9commanded by John Paul Jones) battling the HMS Serapis.

There is a legend about the first Fourth of July celebration in Portsmouth, N.H., that probably isn’t true.

The story has it that five young ladies of Portsmouth — Mary Langdon, Augusta Pierce, Caroline Chandler, Dorothy Hall and Helen Seavey — made an American flag from their best silk gowns, according to specification by John Paul Jones.

Jones supposedly sailed the USS Ranger from Boston to Portsmouth, where the Ranger had been built at what is now the Portsmouth Naval Shipyard. The ladies presented him the flag. He then hoisted it on the Ranger. The record suggests, however, that John Paul Jones wasn’t in Portsmouth that day.

What did happen was that a Captain Thompson invited people to lunch on board a Continental frigate. Salutes were probably fired, church bells probably rung, and a toast to George Washington was probably drunk. In 1805, for example, Portsmouth gave Washington the following toast to ‘The memory of George Washington, Greater than Caesar–he would wear no crown, but that of the people’s love. ‘

Bristol, R.I.

The Bristol, R.I., parade.

Fourth of July observances have waxed and waned over the centuries, but not in Bristol, R.I. The town proudly claims to be the birthplace of the Fourth of July celebration.

The Bristol Fourth of July Celebration started in 1785 by the Rev. Henry Wight, newly hired by the First Congregational Church.

Wight had served as a soldier in the American Revolution, and he determined that Bristol should observe Patriotic Exercises on the Fourth of July. He led the ceremonies in 1785 with a speech calling for reflection on the veterans who won the war and celebration of the new nation’s freedoms.

For 40 years, Wight would continue leading these ceremonies. The Fourth of July has been celebrated every year in Bristol since.

Sometime in the early 1800s the now-2.5-mile Military, Civic and Firemen’s Parade began. In 1975, Providence Mayor Buddy Cianci started fighting with parade organizers. Under the rules, he wasn’t entitled to walk in the parade, but he did anyway.

Parade organizers sent him a letter in 1979 telling him not to show up in 1980, and the Bristol police chief vowed to arrest anyone who made a disturbance. Cianci showed up in a helicopter. So many parade-goers cheered him the police had to let him march.

In 1984, Cianci pleaded “no contest” to a charge of assault and skipped the parade. A clown dressed in a prison uniform, carrying a ball and chain, marched in his place. In 1989 he marched ahead of the marshal, prompting the parade chairman to say Cianci was rude and shouldn’t be invited back. In 1997 and 1998, he brought along an entourage of law enforcement officers squirting the crowd with water rifles, which got him dis-invited in 1999. He returned in 2009 after serving jail time for racketeering.

Today Bristol’s Fourth of July celebration officially starts on June 14th, Flag Day, and ends with the parade on July 4th. In between are concerts, fireworks, a drum corps show, a firefighters muster and a Fourth of July ball.

Providence Mayor Buddy Cianci marched in the Bristol, R.I., Fourth of July parade in 2009 after his conviction.

Bristol, Vt.

Coincidentally, the parade committee in Bristol, Vt., boasts that the Bristol Vermont Fourth of July parade is the oldest continuous parade in Vermont.

The parade committee is silent on when the parade first started, simply saying it has been going on for ‘decades.’ Bristol did host a parade for the nation’s Bicentennial in 1976. Today Bristol’s fireworks are said to rival Burlington’s, and the parade runs for an hour and a half.

In 1980, the Bristol parade featured the first annual Outhouse Race. Contestants participate in teams, with two runners and one rider who sits inside the outhouse frame. The outhouse frame must have a door for privacy. The race runs from St. Ambrose Catholic Church to the finish line at the traffic light, and there are usually three or four outhouses in each of the four heats.

For a youtube video of the outhouse race, click here.

Images: Old State House, Boston, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=221678; Bristol, R.I., parade: By Kenneth C. Zirkel – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=49912345; Buddy Cianci By Notyourbroom – Own work, CC BY 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=7211464; Bristol, RI, street scene By TwoSheds (talk) (Uploads) – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=12287639

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How The Spirit of 76 Became World War I Propaganda

The Spirit of 76 reappeared again and again after the American Revolution as an idea, as a symbol and as a propaganda tool aimed at a public not terribly keen on going to war in Europe.

World War I propaganda poster

In the year leading up to the American entry into World War I, the conflict was unpopular with large swaths of the American public. For many Americans, the European War was just that—a war about and for Europeans.

The campuses of elite colleges such as Yale were the exception. Many students dropped out to join foreign forces or American volunteer efforts.

But, by and large, Americans went about their business—and business for the country’s burgeoning manufacturing base was very good. American factories cranked out all sorts of materiel to fill the Allied needs for war.

President Woodrow Wilson advocated neutrality when war broke out in Europe. His views slowly changed as Germany redirected its aggression toward the United States. Merchant ships and unarmed passenger ships were sunk, and people’s lives were lost.

Then Germany sent a telegram to Mexico suggesting a military alliance. That pushed Wilson and Congress to declare war in April 1917.

“Keep the Home Garden Growing” poster from World War I.

But total participation in the war effort was essential. How could the American people be persuaded to support it by Congress, local governments and all of the supporting organizations?

Congress had the power, and used it, to institute the selective service (draft), but, much more was needed to win the hearts and minds of Americans. Federal and local governments used propaganda that was hard to ignore.

Images of the American Revolution were revived, especially the Spirit of 76. It was seen everywhere: the library, the post office and the bank.

Nathan Hale

Nathan Hale and the Spirit of 76

Today, few know how images of Nathan Hale and the American Revolution were revived during the World War I era.

A bronze monument of Nathan Hale stands on the Old Campus of Yale University, close to Connecticut Hall, where Hale roomed as a student.

Student tour guides leading hopeful families visiting the 316-year old school always stop at Hale. They pause to tell the story of the young teacher/spy who was hanged by the British in 1776—only a few short months after Thomas Jefferson wrote the Declaration of Independence.

Hale was a potent symbol of heroism and sacrifice during World War I. There were others, as well, but none so popular as Spirit of 76 itself, a pastiche of sentiment codified in a painting from 1876.

Spirit of 76

The Spirit of 76 by Archibald MacNeal Willard

The Spirit of 76 first took shape just after the Revolutionary War, when arguments about the structure of the new government threatened the stability of the new country. Looking back at the heady days of 1775 and 1776, patriots such as Thomas Jefferson took up their pens and referred to the ideals of “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”

Instead of dying out with the first generation of revolutionaries—Thomas Jefferson and John Adams famously passing on the same day, July 4,^,1826, the only holiday Jefferson celebrated—the Spirit of 76 was revived again and again over the following century and beyond.

Most significantly, the Spirit of 76 appeared in a painting at the Philadelphia Centennial Exposition in 1876, the centennial of the founding of the country. Archibald MacNeal Willard, a Civil War veteran painted the canvas after viewing a patriotic parade.

Willard painted several versions of the Spirit of 76 (the original is in Abbot Hall in Marblehead, Mass.). Its imagery of the drummer boy, flutist with the bandaged head and the old man, drumming on in the midst of a terrible battle, has been reproduced in countless ways since its creation.

Brodie helmet with image of Paul Revere’s ride

The Spirit of 76 and the revival of American Revolutionary stories and images happened on the western front as well as on the home front.

Doughboys from the Yankee Division painted insignias of Paul Revere’s Ride (Division Headquarters Troop) and the Bunker Hill Monument (101^st Engineer Train) on their helmets. The Minute Man image became a symbol of the Yankee Division as a whole—appropriate since it was formed of National Guard units from New England.

The Battle of Seicheprey was one of the first battles for the Americans on the western front, involving the 102^nd Regiment (with members mostly from Connecticut, Vermont and Massachusetts) of the Yankee Division.

One doughboy, Clifford Markle, predicted that “Seicheprey will go down in American history as the Lexington of the World War.”

In New Haven, where the 102^nd trained at Camp Yale, it’s no surprise the Nathan Hale Monument was identified as significant during the World War I era. Hale was young and inexperienced, like the first doughboys on the front, but his words — “I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country”– were the very essence of the Spirit of 76.

The Spirit of 76 on parade in 1817

The Spirit of 76 died down after the end of the war, only to be revived again during World War II and, later, during the country’s Bicentennial celebrations. There is history and myth, symbolism and spirit wrapped up in the Spirit of 76—something a little deeper than Uncle Sam, perhaps, that other famous image revived during World War I.

About the Author

Laura A. Macaluso is the author of New Haven in World War I (April 2017), endorsed by the World War One Centennial Commission and available here.

This story was updated in 2022.

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The New England Town Crier, Part Ad Man, Part Comedian

Jimmy Wilson, Boston’s town crier for 50 years, was loved by the city’s children, and was once paid to go around to the schools and announce that they could go play in the new-mown hay on the common.

Wilson was said to have announced the Boston Tea Party, the Declaration of Independence and the Battle of Bunker Hill. He also announced missing children and the auction sales of furniture, fish or foreign fruit. “No one could equal him in describing the excellence of a cargo of Messina oranges, Malaga raisins, and Smyrna figs,” wrote Edward Griffin Porter in his 1886 book, Rambles in Old Boston.

The town crier for a century and a half was a fixture of urban New England. Though the job was pretty much the same throughout the region, the town crier tended to know everyone in town, and to be loved or hated depending on his idiosyncrasies. He was a combination newspaper, television commercial and, in many cases, stand-up comedian.

Jimmy Wilson was described as having the ideal qualities for the job: a quick wit, a gregarious nature and a powerful voice. He was short, thick-set and red-faced man, with keen eyes. He also owned a tavern that is still in business. It is called, appropriately, the Bell in Hand.

Town Crier, Freelance Ad Man

The town crier dates to 1640, the year Hartford passed an ordinance outlining his duties and Boston Town Meeting chose William Corser for a one-year-term.

In 1702, Boston made the town crier an appointee who was licensed regularly. Anyone who presumed to be a town crier without a license would be fined 10 shillings, according to J.L. Bell in his blog, Boston 1775.

Other cities and towns did the same, though Newport, R.I., had an appointed town crier until after the American Revolution.

Provincetown Town Crier, from a 1909 postcard.

The town crier often had another profession and made announcements for whoever would pay him. Jimmy Wilson made brushes from his shop in the basement of the Exchange Coffee House.

The main duties of the town crier were to announce the sale of goods and the loss of property or children, and they had to keep a written record of everything they cried.

Portland, Maine, for example, required the town crier to keep a

true and perfect list of all the matters and things by him cried, and the names of the persons by whome he was employed, and subject to the inspection of the mayor and aldermen.

Portland’s town crier, Samul Buntin, was born in 1730 and worked as a servant for a Scottish nobleman. When Buntin married the nobleman’ daughter, she was disinherited her and the couple moved to Portland. He ‘did all his crying professionally, and prospered, living to be nearly 100 years old.’

John Tucker became Boston’s town crier from at least 1688 because he was ‘educated unto letters.’ He was also ‘weak in body’ and needed a job that didn’t require heavy lifting.

Boston had another town crier named John Jenkins who was weak in body. He did the job until May 7, 1767, according to the Boston Gazette, when he ‘fell down just as he was going out to cry Fish, and died instantly.’

Crying Revolution

The town crier was strictly forbidden from crying anything obscene or slanderous.

In June 1724, Boston passed an ordinance that said,

if the Cryer or Cryers Shall Cry any vain foolish prophain or Obscene matter, He Shal forfeit and pay Ten Shillings fine, and be Discharged from his Place or Office, And the Person that ordered the Crying thereof, Shall pay a fine of Twenty Shillings.

He also announced news and summoned people to action.

Farmington, Conn., heard about the events leading to the American Revolution from the town crier Mr. Bull. Here’s how Ellen Strong Bartlett’s great-grandmother described how they learned about the Boston Tea Party.

Our town crier, Mr. Bull, has gone up and down our street, proclaiming the news, and to each house he leaves a command from some one who seems to have authority that no one is to use any more English tea…When the town-crier came to our house and told us we must not use any more tea, Mother sat down and cried; it was not really so much the loss of the tea as what all this was leading to.

As Revolution approached, she wrote, “This is only the beginning of our dark and anxious days. Every Sunday, this same town-crier, Mr. Bull, goes through the street beating a drum to call people to meeting, and it is arranged that in any sudden emergency growing out of this war, the drum-beat shall be the summons for all the men to come to the meeting-house.”

In 1772 in Providence, R.I., wealthy businessman John Brown hired a town crier to announce the hated revenue cutter Gaspee was grounded and anyone wishing to destroy her should come to a meeting.

Often the news was more mundane. Nathaniel Hawthorne described the town crier in Salem, Mass., in his Twice-Told Tales:

…he is telling the people that an elephant and a lion and a royal tiger, and a horse with horns, and other strange beasts from foreign countries have come to town and will receive all visitors who choose to wait upon them!

Town Crier, Town Character

Jimmy Wilson would find a spot to stand, ring his bell three times to collect a crowd, then put it under his arm and read his announcement.

After the war he often announced auctions on the steps of the Exchange Coffee House. He often at his post at 9 p.m., and always in a jovial mood. When he announced a missing child, wrote Porter, ‘His account of the agony of bereaved parents would be heart-rending, when he would suddenly explode a joke which would start the crowd off, roaring.’

Town crier William “Billy” Clark (1846-1909) blowing his horn. Clark would blow his horn from the tower of the Unitarian Church to announce approaching boats.

Nantucket’s town crier blew a fish horn before he rang his bell. Samuel Adams Drake described his technique in an 1875 book called Nooks and Corners of the New England Coast. The town crier knew Drake was from away, and kept an eye on him. He watched for incoming boats from the tower of the Unitarian Church and announced them. According to Drake,

First he wound a terrific blast of his horn. toot, toot, toot, it echoed down the street, like the discordant braying of a donkey. This he followed with lusty ringing of a large dinner-bell, peal on peal…Then, placing the fish hown under his arm, and taking the bell by the tongue, he delivered himself of his formula. I am not likely to forget it: “Two boats a day! Burgess’s meat auction this evening! Corned beef: Boston Theatre, positively last night this evening.”

Horrid Man

In 1893, Thomas Bailey Aldrich described Nicholas Newman, the last town crier in his native city, Portsmouth, N.H., His memoir, An Old Town By The Sea, includes memories of his boyhood before the Civil War.

Newman was ‘very short, cross-eyed, somewhat bow-legged, with an odd way of sidling up to people and with a bell out of all proportion to his stature.’

He cried ‘auctions, funerals, mislaid children, traveling theatricals, public meetings, and articles lost or found. He was especially strong in announcing the loss of reticules, usually the property of elderly maiden ladies.’

Newman conscientiously described every single item in the purse. It ‘would have seemed satirical in another person, but on his part was pure conscientiousness,” wrote Aldrich. People called him, ‘that horrid man.’

Town crier William “Billy” Clark (1846-1909) blowing his horn. Clark would blow his horn from the tower of the Unitarian Church to announce approaching boats.

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Ebenezer Hancock – John’s Hapless Brother

Thomas Hancock had two nephews. John Hancock was the one with the outsized signature on the Declaration of Independence. Ebenezer Hancock was John’s younger brother.

While they were just boys in Braintree, John and Ebenezer’s father died. Uncle Thomas adopted John, four years Ebenezer’s senior, to ease the financial burden on their mother.

Ebenezer Hancock

Thomas Hancock was, of course, the money in the family. An experienced trader and wholesaler with connections around the world, he took John under his wing. Uncle Thomas sent him to Harvard and trained him for business.

John Hancock

Once he launched John into business, Thomas turned some attention toward Ebenezer. The young man planned to enter the ministry. But Thomas invited 18-year-old Ebenezer to Boston and gave him a taste of working in his firm.

Older brother John liked the fact that Uncle Thomas steered his brother toward business.

“I am glad to find that my brother’s conduct is so pleasing to my Uncle,” wrote John Hancock in a letter. “[C]lergymen have not the deference paid to them nor are they supported as they deserve, which is but poor encouragement to a young fellow.” He well knew the fortunes of ministers. His father had been one and his mother married another.

Ebenezer did please Thomas Hancock, but that didn’t help him all that much. According to legal tradition in 1760, the bulk of a family estate went to the firstborn son of each generation.

The practice would soon end in the United States after the American Revolution. But Thomas Hancock, who died in 1764, willed John the bulk of his fortune–his warehouses and properties in Massachusetts as well as his cash. Nevertheless, he staked Ebenezer to a start in business with a small amount of cash and several thousand acres of land in Maine. The results were less than stellar.

A Less-Than-Successful Career

London School of Economics Professor W.T. Baxter took a dive into Hancock’s papers to explore the less-than-successful career of Ebenezer Hancock in his 1951 research paper, A Colonial Bankrupt: Ebenezer Hancock, 1741-1819.

Ebenezer Hancock

Ebenezer soon launched himself on his own, leaving the firm that now belonged to his brother. He attempted to set himself up as an importer and wholesaler to smaller stores around New England – essentially, John’s business. John supported his brother, sending letters to his suppliers urging them to do business with him and his new partner Edward Blanchard.

The new firm of Blanchard and Hancock also decided to underwrite a shipping venture. Thomas Hancock made a good deal of his fortune by launching ships abroad carrying New England wares. They would make their way north to Canada, unload goods there and then proceed to Europe or the Caribbean, buying and selling to bring back the most profit.

Blanchard and Hancock bought a half-share of the ship Neptune and sent it on its way, laden with New England livestock, meat and farm goods. In Newfoundland it offloaded its contents in return for cod, then crossed to England and sold off the cod. The Neptune then went on to Portugal to take on a load of salt and returned to Boston.

This first voyage produced a modest profit and the Neptune launched on the ocean once more. This journey proved disastrous. The market in Canada had weakened and the ports were full of competing New England vessels. Blanchard and Hancock sold the cargo for a slim profit.

Ill Winds

Ill winds, storms and poor prospects kept the vessel at sea far longer than planned. At one point in February of 1768 the captain nearly abandoned ship when it got locked in ice. Finally the Neptune headed to the Caribbean, stuffed with cod from Canada.

For weeks the poor captain tried to unload his cargo. In one instance he thought he had it sold only to find the harbor suddenly swollen with ships offering better cod at lower prices. In the end, he unloaded the cod at a loss.

Three years after launch, English creditors were sending dunning letters to Blanchard and Hancock. Soon some of Ebenezer’s trading partners were shipping his orders of goods to John Hancock’s warehouses. The wholesalers thought that if John Hancock accepted delivery, he would have to pay for the goods if his brother Ebenezer would not.

Boston Harbor ca. 1765

By 1768 John Hancock was warning his suppliers not to send Ebenezer’s orders to his warehouse; he would not pay for them. Meanwhile, John had his own problems. British officials had accused him of smuggling wine into Boston without paying duties.

With the British pressing John Hancock, Ebenezer’s firm folded. While John paid some of his debts (those to suppliers that John relied on), many of Ebenezer’s creditors lost out.

Shopkeeper

For the next several years Ebenezer would struggle as a small-time shopkeeper, importing household goods from England. He also bought imports from John and sold them retail, with John keeping a tight leash on his brother.

During the American Revolution, John helped his brother again by getting him a job as deputy paymaster. Soldiers would queue up to get their pay at Ebenezer’s store at 10 Marshall St. in Boston.

If he was jealous of John, Ebenezer would get some satisfaction. He outlived his sometimes imperious brother by more than 25 years. When John died without a will in 1783, Ebenezer inherited one-third of his estate. And while John’s mansion on Beacon Hill was sold to the state and demolished, Ebenezer’s storefront and home still stands. The house was bought and restored by a law firm in 1976.

This story about Ebenezer Hancock was updated in 2022.

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Six Loyalist Houses

A Loyalist House was likely to be seized and sold when the American Revolution broke out. Many colonies passed laws that let them confiscate the property of known Loyalists, criminalizing dissent against the war and raising revenue for the war effort.

Many Loyalists fled to Canada or England. The British government compensated some for their loss, but tried to pressure the United States into giving restitution. Under the Jay Treaty of 1794, the U.S. agreed to ‘advise’ the states to return Loyalist property. Some families are still trying to get their property back.

Connecticut took a more lenient approach than the other New England states in confiscating Loyalist houses. It waited until four other states had passed confiscation laws. Local officials also dragged their feet in identifying Loyalist properties.

Vermont, on the other hand, eagerly seized Loyalist property in order to pay for the Green Mountain Boys.

Here, then, are stories of six Loyalist houses and their fate during the American Revolution.

Henry Whitfield House

A Loyalist house in Connecticut, owned by Joseph Pynchon on the eve of the Revolution.

When Joseph Pynchon purchased the Henry Whitfield House in Guilford, Conn., he was supposedly seeking a relaxing summer retreat. His timing was not good.

The Whitfield House, built in 1639, has the distinction of being the oldest house still standing in Connecticut.

The structure was built by Henry Whitfield, one of Guilford’s founders, before there was even a town in Guilford. Its stone walls helped it serve as a garrison for townspeople. It would later become an investment property for a wealthy English landlord who rented it to tenant farmers. Pynchon bought the house in November of 1772.

Originally from Springfield, Mass., Pynchon inherited substantial wealth. He had Loyalist political sympathies. He also joined the Sandimonians in New Haven, an obscure religious group that originated in Scotland. Not only was he a Loyalist, the Sandimonians were pacifists, giving Pynchon’s Patriot-leaning neighbors two reasons to be suspicious of him.

Fearing persecution, Pynchon sold the Guilford house just a week before the Declaration of Independence was signed, and he spent much of the war in exile under British protection. He returned to Connecticut when the danger cleared and Loyalists were allowed to reestablish ties to their homeland. Among Pynchon’s descendants was Thomas Pynchon, one-time president of Trinity College, and novelist Thomas Pynchon.

As for his summer house, today it has left the family that bought it from Pynchon and is now a museum.

248 Old Whitfield St, Guilford, CT 06437

William Pepperrell House

The William Pepperrell House, Maine’s most prominent Loyalist house.

William Pepperrell led the Siege of Louisbourg during King George’s War in 1745, but his house in Kittery, Maine, predates that heroic maneuver by 63 years.

Pepperrell was the son of William Pepperrell, a fisherman who had lived and prospered on the Isles of Shoals before moving to the mainland in 1680. The senior Pepperrell married the daughter of John Bray, a wealthy shipwright, and went into business with his father-in-law. Soon Pepperrell was one of the richest men in New England and owned most of Kittery Point.

The junior William Pepperrell was born in the house in 1696. He joined his father in business and continued the family’s rise by marrying the granddaughter of Samuel Sewall, one of the Salem witch trials judges.

Pepperrell joined the Massachusetts militia and rose to colonel. It was he who assembled volunteer soldiers for capturing the Fortress at Louisbourg, trained them and financed the expedition. After the fortress fell, King George II awarded him a baronetcy.

Pepperrell served as acting governor of Massachusetts in 1757 and died two years later. His grandson, born William Pepperrell Sparhawk, inherited the house after agreeing to change his name to William Pepperrell. The third William Pepperrell remained loyal to the English king on the eve of the American Revolution. He fled to England with his wife, who died of smallpox on the way in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Pepperrell died in London.

Massachusetts deemed the house Loyalist property and put it up for auction. In 1790 the house was purchased by Col. Samuel Smallcorn, and Daniel Frisbee bought some of the property. In 1973 the Pepperrell House was listed on the National Register of Historic Places. It is privately owned.

94 Pepperrell Rd. (Rte. 103), Kittery, Maine

Isaac Royall House

Isaac Royall House.

The Isaac Royall House in Medford, Mass., is one of the few houses in New England that still has slave quarters. The Royalls had the largest number of enslaved people in New England during the 18^th century.

Inside the house is a tea box, said to be among the batch thrown into Boston Harbor during the Boston Tea Party.

Puritan leader John Winthrop built the first house on the property along the Mystic River in 1637. It became Charlestown and later Medford. A second house on the property was purchased with 504 acres in 1732 by Isaac Royall, a rum distiller and slave trader from Antigua. He brought 27 slaves with him to Massachusetts. Royall enlarged and remodeled the house between 1733 and 1737, then died in 1739.

Isaac Royall, Jr., inherited the house on his father’s death. He and his family were Loyalists who boarded a ship in Boston as British soldiers marched to the Battles of Lexington and Concord in 1775. They sailed to Nova Scotia and then to England, never returning.

Gen. John Stark then made the house his headquarters. His wife Molly supposedly watched British troop movements from the roof, and George Washington interrogated British soldiers inside.

In 1806, the estate was returned to Isaac Royall’s heirs. They then sold it and gave part of the proceeds to Harvard, which used it to found Harvard Law School. The Daughters of the American Revolution bought the house in 1908 and turned it into a Loyalist house museum.

The Isaac Royall House opens for tours on summer weekends.

In Stratford, Conn., the Judson House, home to the local historical society, also has former slave quarters. They’re in the basement and part of tours through the home.

15 George St., Medford, Mass.

Mark Wentworth House

The Mark Wentworth House.

Henry Appleton, a merchant, built the Mark Wentworth House in Portsmouth, N.H., in 1763. He sold it the next year to Mark Hunking Wentworth, brother of Royal Gov. Benning Wentworth.

Mark Wentworth’s son John was born in 1737 and attended Harvard with John Adams, with whom he formed a close friendship. John Wentworth II, however, remained loyal to the king.

In 1763, John Wentworth went to London on family business. Uncle Benning had been busy selling land grants in Vermont, but the Lords of Trade awarded the province to New York. They were on the verge of recalling Benning Wentworth when John II intervened, so they gave him the governorship.

John Wentworth returned to New Hampshire amidst pomp and ceremony in 1767. Then he moved into his father’s house, where he complained about its small rooms.

Wentworth served as a popular and able governor until resistance hardened to King George III. When a mob pointed a cannon at his front door in June 1775, John Wentworth and his family fled to the safety of Fort William and Mary. He sailed to Boston about a month later and sent his family on to England. On Evacuation Day he left for Halifax.

The New Hampshire government seized the Loyalist house, but saved the furniture and portraits for the family. In 1797 the house was sold, but 13 years later Ebenezer Wentworth bought it back. In 1911 Dr. Charles Wentworth and his sister Susan converted the house into a nursing home. It now houses Wentworth Senior Living.

346 Pleasant St., Portsmouth, N.H.

Lucas-Johnston House

The Lucas-Johnston Loyalist house.

Tucked among Newport, R.I.’s many historic homes is the Lucas-Johnston house. Augustus Lucas originally owned it. He arrived in Newport from France around 1700 and grew wealthy trading in slaves. Lucas’ grandson Augustus Johnston gave the house greater renown when he lived in it. Johnston, a British official, accepted a position as Newport’s stamp agent – in charge of administering the Stamp Act.

As in Massachusetts, Rhode Island agitators protested vehemently against the Stamp Act. Johnston was hanged in effigy, and a mob drove him from his home into hiding until he agreed not to serve as stamp agent. In July of 1776 Johnston again ran into difficulty when he refused to swear allegiance to the revolutionary cause. For that, he was imprisoned for a time.

When the British held Newport during the early days of the war, Johnston served in various capacities in the city. When the British left, Johnston left with them. His house was confiscated. He spent a good part of his life arguing for compensation for his losses due to both the Stamp Act riot and the American Revolution.

Today the Lucas-Johnston House is privately owned.

40 Division St., Newport, R.I.

Marsh Tavern

The Equinox Hotel.

In July 1777 Vermont’s Col. William Marsh made a difficult decision. When the American Revolution broke out, Marsh had joined forces with the Green Mountain Boys. But he decided to switch sides and support the Loyalist cause.

Marsh came to Vermont from Connecticut via New York and settled in Manchester around 1765.

When war broke out he joined the Green Mountain Boys with the rank of colonel. But by 1777 he had grown uneasy by the way the Patriots harassed Loyalist Vermonters, and that prompted him to join forces with British General John Burgoyne.

Following Burgoyne’s defeat in Saratoga, the American military let Marsh return to visit family in Dorset, Vt. before his exile to Canada. During the war he acted as a diplomatic adviser and spy handler for the British. He actively lobbied to have Vermont switch sides and join with Britain.

The Vermont government confiscated and sold Marsh’s Manchester property. Marsh always retained hope that he could recover some of his property, but it did not happen. His name lives on, however, at the Equinox Golf Resort and Spa in Manchester where visitors can dine in the historic Marsh Tavern.

3567 Main St, Manchester, Vt.

Images: Lucas Johnston House By Swampyank at English Wikipedia, CC BY 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=20434670; Equinox Hotel By Rolf Müller (User:Rolfmueller) – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1352242. This story was updated in 2023.

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John Trumbull Gets a Few Things Wrong in His Famous Declaration of Independence Painting

Ten years after the American colonies adopted the Declaration of Independence, John Trumbull traveled the country in a carriage seeking out all the men who signed the document. He wanted to paint their likenesses in a monumental work depicting the nation’s founding moment.

He carried a small painting, protected by a special case, to which he added each portrait as he found each member of the revolutionary Congress.

Trumbull traveled to Boston, New Hampshire, South Carolina and Virginia to find the Founding Fathers. He went to Paris and London to consult with John Adams and Thomas Jefferson. And he went to Philadelphia to capture the room where the Continental Congress met.

The small painting, 21” by 31”, became the model for the giant 12’ by 18’ painting that hangs in the Capitol Rotunda.

Since then, John Trumbull’s image of the nation’s founding moment has been reproduced millions of times. It is etched indelibly in the American consciousness.

It’s amazing he got it done — but he did get a few things wrong.

John Trumbull

John Trumbull believed he was uniquely suited to paint the history of the American Revolution. His father, Connecticut Gov. Jonathan Trumbull, thought he’d be better off as a lawyer or minister.

John Trumbull

He was born in Lebanon, Conn., in 1756, the youngest of Jonathan and Faith Trumbull’s six children. As a child he lost an eye when he fell down a flight of stairs.

He attended Harvard, but studied art on the side over his father’s objections. After graduation he joined the First Regiment of Connecticut, rising to the rank of colonel and serving as an aide to George Washington. He watched the Battle of Bunker Hill, which he later painted.

The Death of General Warren at the Battle of Bunker Hill by John Trumbull.

In 1780, John Trumbull went to London, where his mentor, Benjamin West, advised him to paint scenes of the Revolution. When Maj. John Andre was hanged as a spy, British outrage led to Trumbull’s arrest. He spent seven months in prison until his friends got him released.

Support From Jefferson

Trumbull had told Thomas Jefferson he intended to paint a series of historical paintings. Jefferson liked the idea so much he asked Trumbull to stay with him in Paris, where he served as minister to France. He urged Trumbull to paint the presentation of the Declaration of Independence.

Jefferson gave Trumbull a sketch he’d drawn of the room in Philadelphia’s Independence Hall where the Continental Congress met. Trumbull later visited the room and found it modernized. Jefferson’s sketch, though, allowed him to recreate the look. He made up the flag and drum on the wall and put the delegates in fancier chairs than they’d actually used.

The Small Painting

In 1786, John Trumbull returned to the United States and began a small painting on which he based the larger work. It took him 33 years to complete.

The painting showed the moment on June 28, 1776, when the five-man committee that wrote the document — Jefferson, Roger Sherman, John Adams, Robert Livingston and Benjamin Franklin — presented it to John Hancock, president of the Continental Congress. The painting didn’t show the signing, which took place a month later.

No written record existed of who was there and who wasn’t. Trumbull consulted Jefferson and Adams. Should he include everyone who might have been in the room that day? Should he include the men who opposed the Declaration? What if the member had died, and he couldn’t find an image of him?

42 + 5 – 14

Jefferson and Adams agreed Trumbull should include the Declaration’s signers, along with those who opposed it. In the end, Trumbull painted 47 men, five of whom did not sign the Declaration of Independence. Fourteen signers did not appear in the painting because Trumbull had no image of them.

Trumbull painted Franklin and John Adams in London, Jefferson in Paris and John Hancock and Sam Adams in Boston. He painted Edward Rutledge in Charleston, S.C., George Wythe in Williamsburg, Va., and Josiah Bartlett in Exeter, N.H.

He took nine portraits from images painted by others. Trumbull painted Gen. William Whipple of New Hampshire from memory. He had no image of Benjamin Harrison, but based his portrait on Harrison’s son, who resembled his father.

Guide to the portraits in ‘The Declaration of Independence’ by John Trumbull.

The Capitol

The Capitol wasn’t even rebuilt from damage caused in the War of 1812 when John Trumbull got the commission to paint four monumental paintings to hang in the rotunda. He received $8,000 per painting, a sum that would have cheered his father.

But he was 62 years old and had only one good eye. Critics saw he’d started to lose his touch with his portraits of Thomas Lynch, Samuel Chase, Benjamin Rush and Richard Stockton. Some thought his large painting wasn’t as good as the smaller, original version.

John Randolph of Virginia didn’t like the painting at all. He said it should be called ‘Shin-piece,’ for ‘surely never was there before such a collection of legs submitted to the eyes of man.’

Some say it looks as if Jefferson stands on John Adams’ foot, representing their troubled relationship. The Architect of the Capitol says no. The painting had suffered from humidity, smoke and dirt. So restorers overpainted the feet to repair damage, which created the impression.

Fame, No Fortune

Despite its critics, the Declaration of Independence painting quickly became one of the most famous in American history.

It was immediately reproduced as an engraving, one of which Lafayette framed and hung on his bedroom wall. Currier and Ives printed and sold thousands of copies. It appeared on the two-dollar bill and as a postage stamp. A reproduction hangs in the Wadsworth Athenaeum in Hartford.

In 1830, John Trumbull was living in a New York City apartment filled with his paintings. He was short of money. He and Yale professor Benjamin Silliman agreed he would donate his paintings to Yale for a lifetime annuity of $1,000. Yale had to house them in a fireproof building that Trumbull designed.

And so the Yale University Art Gallery – the first college art museum — began in 1832 to house Trumbull’s paintings.

John Trumbull died in 1843. He and his wife Sarah were buried beneath the Yale University Art Gallery.

This story about John Trumbull was updated in 2022.

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