History That Doesn't Suck - 8: From Independence to NY (meeting A. Ham, Nathan Hale & Charles Lee is a Sneaky Bastard)

Episode Date: December 17, 2017

“I wish there was a war.” This is the story of independence and crushed hope. Congress is finally declaring independence and it’s not a straight-forward process. We’ll listen to different delegates argue passionately for and against it. Then we follow the war to New York where we’ll meet Alexander Hamilton and get the backstory of his rough childhood in the Caribbean and how he ended up in the Big Apple. After hanging out with Alex, we’ll hook up with George Washington who’s just come to New York, too. He’s going to have a harder go in NYC than he did in Boston. Much harder … ____ Connect with us on HTDSpodcast.com and go deep into episode bibliographies and book recommendations join discussions in our Facebook community get news and discounts from The HTDS Gazette  come see a live show get HTDS merch or become an HTDS premium member for bonus episodes and other perks. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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Learn more at shopify.com slash enterprise. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and as in the classroom, my goal here is to make rigorously researched history come to life as your storyteller. Each episode is the result of laborious research with no agenda other than making the past come to life as you learn. If you'd like to help support this work, receive ad-free episodes, bonus content, and other exclusive perks, I invite you to join the HTDS membership program. Sign up for a seven-day free trial today at htdspodcast.com slash membership,

or click the link in the episode notes. It's almost dawn, March 5th, 1776. American forces are just finishing fortifications on top of Dorchester Heights on the peninsula south of British-occupied Boston. This move is similar to their occupation of Bunker and Breed's Hill last year, except this time, Patriot forces are going further. They have not one, but two redoubts, over 20 cannons, and some 4,000 fierce soldiers ready to hold their ground. They set up all of this in a single night. Down in Boston, the tall, handsome, mid-40s general William Billy Howe and his men can hardly believe their eyes.

Gazing southward across Boston's not yetyet-filled-in waters and marshes, they can clearly see Dorchester Heights two miles in the distance. Such strong fortifications. So much artillery. So many men. British commanders knew the American forces were up to something last night. The news disrupted their drinking. But how is this even possible? General Howe fumes and decides to answer with a cannonade.

For two hours, British artillery fires at the American position. It's a complete failure. Dorchester Heights' elevation is simply too high. Yet, that elevation also means that Patriot cannons can hit Boston Harbor. Rear Admiral Mullen O'Sholden informs General Howe that the fleet cannot stay here. What should they do then? Well, General Howe drove off the rebels last year at the Battle of Bunker Hill, so now the honor-bound commander will drive them from this southern peninsula.

By 12 noon, troops are at Long Wharf preparing for an amphibious attack against the Americans. He's sending 2,000 redcoats to Castle Island. They'll hit Dorchester at nightfall. Amid all of this activity in Boston, General George Washington arrives at Dorchester Heights. He's thrilled with the plan's execution and calls out a stirring rallying cry to his men. Remember, it is the 5th of March, and avenge the death of your brethren! That's right. March 5th. Six years to the day since the Boston Massacre. The Virginian general's words invigorate his troops.

They welcome this fight. Civilians take to the hills to watch the slaughter to come. But this battle isn't meant to be. As the afternoon passes, strong winds rip up fences and dash windows. By that evening, it isn't cannon but snow and sleet that attack. As the Reverend William Gordon will later describe, it was such a storm as scarce anyone remembered to have heard. I concluded that the ship could not stir and pleased myself with the reflection that the Lord might be working deliverance for us

and preventing the effusion of human blood. Considering the Americans' fortifications in high ground, British Colonel Charles Stewart also wonders if this isn't for the best. God knows whether it was a fortunate circumstance or not, but at any rate, so high a wind arose that it was impossible for the boats to take to sea. The next day, General Howe and his engineers recognize George Washington's army holds too strong of a position. The Redcoats will not attack. Instead, the British commander

will contend with the range of the Patriots' far-reaching cannons by evacuating Boston. George will let the British properly prepare and depart in peace. As a result, Billy Howe, who might not prevent his men from stealing, does nonetheless refrain from putting the torch to Boston. He'll also evacuate more than a thousand Loyalists, including hundreds of women and children who fear the wrath of George's army. Loyalist refugees also include notable figures like the Boston Latin School's headmaster and a former law mentor of John Adams, James Putnam of Worcester. But not all will make it out. A few loyalists will kill themselves.

Seeing loyalists as traitors, George doesn't lose too much sleep over this. But still, this doesn't please him. He'll later write, Unhappy wretches. Deluded mortals. Would it not be good policy to grant a generous amnesty to conquer these people by a generous forgiveness? See, George is a leader who understands that ending a conflict of this magnitude requires more than winning in battle.

Building a future American society will require making concessions to the vanquished, forgiving, and seeking general reconciliation. Finally, on March 17th, St. Patrick's Day, William Howe, his 8,906 troops, and civilian loyalists, over 11,000 souls in total, depart from the city of Boston. As their 120 ships weigh anchor, Bostonians watching

break down in tears of relief. It'll be yet 10 days before the fleet disappears from sight, but no matter. An end to their city's occupation is relief enough for beleaguered Bostonians. Abigail Adams calls the sight marvelous and credits the Lord. But George has little time to celebrate his victory. The Virginia knows Billy Howe is only regrouping

and when their armies clash again, likely in New York, his foe will have the advantage and bring all the vengeance of an embarrassed superpower. There is little civil left in this civil war. Perhaps it's time to cut ties once and for all. Perhaps it's time for independence. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck.

I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and I'd like to tell you a story. Thus concludes the Siege of Boston. And I know this might seem weird, but after talking about Boston in almost every episode so far, it's time for us to move on. In fact, we're going to get around this episode. First, we're heading down to Philadelphia. It's 1776 and Congress is ready to declare independence.

Well, not without a few more months of debating and disagreeing, but I'll fill you in on that difficult process and decision. We'll then head to the Caribbean of yesteryear, because it's time to meet the most unlikely founding father of them all, Alexander Hamilton. We'll bear witness to the orphan's rough island childhood and incredible ascent. Whether you're a new Alex fan thanks to Lin-Manuel Miranda, a Hamilton hipster who thought the $10 founding father was cool before the musical, know nothing of him, or are even a Hamilton hater, it's quite the saga.

Finally, we'll follow Alex to New York, where we'll reconnect with George Washington as he loses battles, brave lads like Nathan Hale, and goes on the retreat. We'll see George at his lowest of lows since he was a young and inexperienced colonel at Fort Necessity. Indeed, despite the declaration, 1776 will prove a difficult year for the Patriot cause, one that tries men's souls, if you will. We've got quite a story cut out for us. So let's bid a fond farewell to Boston and head to Philadelphia. Ah, Philly. We've sat in as Congress has met numerous times

in the city's gorgeous red brick, white trimmed state house. But before we do so today, let's brush up on the situation. In the last episode, we saw that most congressional delegates in 1775 didn't see independence as the goal. Many viewed the current state of affairs as a civil war that would likely be brief

and conclude in reconciliation with the king and their rights as British subjects being restored. But this belief suffered a fatal blow with King George III's harsh rejection of Congress's Olive Branch petition in late 1775. And if the King's rejection put reconciliation on life support, Thomas Paine pulled the plug in January 1776, while George Washington drove the nail

in the coffin by chasing General Howe from Boston in March. And now, in March 1776, we can see this evolution in Congress's views by looking at its actions. On March 3rd, two days before George even took Dorchester Heights, Congress sent Mr. Silas Dean across the Atlantic to try and convince France to get in the fight. That's a telling move. See, France wouldn't want to get mixed up in a civil war, and Congress knows that. But a war for independence? That's different. King Louis XVI might see value in helping a piece of his nemesis, King George III's empire, break off.

Silas is even permitted to say there's a good chance of, quote, total separation from Britain coming. So, Silas' mission speaks volumes to where the delegates' minds are. But don't take that as every delegate agreeing on independence. No, remember, everyone in Congress rarely agrees on anything. Things are only moving in that direction, though John and Abigail Adams couldn't be happier about this development. We know that from their current letters.

Now, before I quote some Abigail for you, let me fill you in on these two New Englanders who are arguably America's original power couple. Although they live in an era where women are left out of politics and rarely receive much formal education, as is the case with Abigail, make no mistake, this autodidactic, driven woman is brilliant, and her husband relies heavily on her advice. Even when short and husky John's various roles in government take him far away from his even shorter, dark-haired, beautiful wife, like right now, as he's in Philly

representing Massachusetts in Congress, the loving couple writes to each other constantly. Across their half a century of marriage, they'll exchange a slew of letters, well over a thousand of which will survive right into the 21st century. Their fiery personalities can leap off the page on occasion, but the duo mean it when they start their letters

to one another, as they often do, with my dearest friend. Theirs is a committed, honest relationship. Two best friends who make the other better, sharper. John and Abigail are interdependent. My apologies to everyone who is now feeling badly about their love life, but all that said, let's get to Abigail's letter.

On March 31st, 1776, Abigail writes to John, I long to hear that you have declared an independency. Ah, there's the telltale line. Little surprise considering that, as we saw in the last episode, Abigail witnessed the horrors of the Battle of Bunker Hill with little John Quincy a year ago. Of course, she's come to this same conclusion

like so many other patriots in New England. But let's not stop her letter there. Seeing two steps ahead, Abigail also tells John that when the boys in Congress get around to creating new laws and a new government, they would do well not to leave women on the sidelines. To pick up with the very next clause of Abigail's letter, I quote, And by the way, in the new code of laws, which I suppose it will be necessary for you to make,

I desire you would remember the ladies and be more generous and favorable to them than your ancestors. Do not put such unlimited power in the hands of the husbands. Remember, all men would be tyrants if they could. If particular care and attention is not paid to the ladies, we are determined to foment a rebellion and will not hold ourselves bound by any laws in which we have no voice or representation. Did I say Abigail sees two steps ahead? Make that a century and a half ahead. Now, don't blame John too much. He'll be in England when the

future U.S. Constitution is penned, but women will not receive the right to vote on a federal level until 1920. That's the year when, to use Abigail's words, the rebellion of several generations of American women will result in the U.S. Constitution's 19th Amendment, prohibiting federal or state laws from denying the right to vote on the basis of sex. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Back to the path to declaring independence in 1776. As winter melts into spring, colonial governments start giving their congressional delegates permission to vote for independence. Some even begin bailing on their British monarchy-sanctioned

colonial governments and establishing new patriot governments. Congress officially recommends all the colonies, or united colonies, to quote the resolution, do this on May 10th. This august body doubles down on that five days later by adding a preamble that says, quote, It is necessary that the exercise of every kind of authority under the said crown should be totally suppressed, close quote.

Whew, rather forceful. But of course it is. John Adams wrote it. John is exuberant. He couldn't be happier as he sees the independence movement pick up steam. On May 20th,

he writes to his fellow New England patriot, James Warren. Every day rolls in upon us, independence like a torrent. What do you think must be my sensations when I see the Congress now daily passing resolutions, which I most earnestly pressed for against wind and tide 12 months ago,

and which I have not omitted to labor for a month together from that time to this? Yeah, John's been angling for this for a long time. And only a few weeks later, the resolution he's really wanted comes before Congress. On June 7th, 1776, Virginia delegate Richard Henry Lee introduces the following three-sentence resolution. I quote,

Resolved that these united colonies are, and of a right ought to be, free and independent states, that they are absolved from all allegiance to the British crown, and that all political connection between them and the state of Great Britain is and ought to be totally dissolved, that it is expedient forthwith to take the most effectual measures for forming foreign alliances, that a plan of confederation be prepared and transmitted to the respective colonies for their consideration and approbation. Okay, this is it. The resolution for independence. Let me also highlight it calls for two other things. Forming alliances with foreign powers that can help,

for instance, France, and forming a confederation. That's right. We're not getting federal, just confederal. There is a significant difference. This means the colonies will remain independent and sovereign states. To compare that to modern times, think more of the European Union than the federal United States. This Congress will soon form a committee to prepare the U.S. Constitution's singular predecessor, the Articles of Confederation. But hold on. If Congress heard this resolution for independence on June 7th

Why do Americans celebrate independence on the 4th of July then? Well, independence is coming But like I've said before and I will say again Not all of the delegates agree Fight the urge to romanticize And think all the founding fathers agree all the time Though fewer in number than previously, moderates still aren't in game for independence. Nor are some of the colonies,

particularly those in the mid-Atlantic. On June 10th, Congress decides to pump the brakes. It'll take up Richard's resolution again in three weeks. And yet, a three-week reprieve from the issue proves to be just what some doubting delegates and colonies need to turn the corner. In mid-June, Delaware, Connecticut, and New Hampshire instruct their delegates to vote for independence. At the same time, New Jersey arrests its royal governor, William Franklin, who's also the son of one of America's most popular and influential patriots, Benjamin Franklin. Capable and talented like his father,

William was once a popular governor. But where his dear dad and increasingly more Americans see patriotism, William sees rebellion. Thus, loyalist William is quite literally imprisoned at the same time his father is helping to craft the actual Declaration of Independence. Perhaps keep that in mind the next time you think your family has

the most embattled arguments over politics. At least you're not on the opposite sides of a revolution. Their relationship will never recover. But speaking of the Declaration's writing, let's meet the five-man committee Congress appoints on June 11th to draft it. Beyond Pennsylvania's Benjamin Franklin, they include John Adams of Massachusetts, Connecticut's Roger Sherman, New York's Robert Livingston, and finally, bringing in some Southern representation beside these Mid-Atlantic and New England types, the man of the hour, Virginia's Thomas Jefferson. Only 33 years old, tall, thin, red-headed Tom is about to learn the same lesson many A students doing group work in school have.

The rest of your group is going to let you do almost all of the work. Joking aside, there's much we do not know about the writing process, but Tom is the principal author. Working from his rented rooms on the second floor of Jacob Graff's Flemish bond-patterned, red and black brick, three-story home, Tom cranks it out in about two weeks. Ben and John tweak it. The end result is bold. Most famously is perhaps the assertion, quote, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, close quote. Tom is also showing how well-read he is as he paraphrases the 17th century English philosopher John Locke, who wrote,

Tom basically replaced estate state with happiness. The Lanky Virginian also takes the British monarchy to task for creating slavery in the Americas. Let me give you a small taste of this. Speaking of King George III, Tom says, quote, he has waged cruel war against human nature itself, violating its most sacred rights of life and liberty in the persons of a distant people who never offended him, captivating and carrying them into slavery in another hemisphere, or to incur miserable death in their transportation thither. He is now exciting those very people to rise in arms among us and to purchase that liberty of which he has

deprived them by murdering the people upon whom he also obtruded them, thus paying off former I know. Seems odd for a slave owner to bring up slavery. Yet, in episode 5, we heard Tom make this same argument, blaming the British monarchy for the institution and sin of slavery in the Americas. And this time, the Virginian is writing after the Old Dominion's former royal governor, Lord Dunmore's 1775 proclamation offering liberty to any slaves and indentured servants willing to fight against the patriots. Hence, Tom's position that his majesty has denied African Americans freedom and is now seeking to use them to deny European Americans freedom.

Tom is also conveniently absolving American slave owners of practicing slavery. Yet his is still an astoundingly honest position for a slave owner to take. In fact, Tom tells us it's too honest for many delegates. Here's how he says the Congress will react to his words on slavery. The Clause 2, reprobating the enslaving of inhabitants of Africa, was struck out in compliance to South Carolina and Georgia, who had never attempted to restrain the importation of slaves, and who, on the contrary, still wished to continue it. Our northern brethren also, I believe, felt a little tender on that under those censures, for though their people have

very few slaves themselves, yet they had been pretty considerable carriers of them to others. Well, there you have it. If we take Tom at his word, he made almost everyone uncomfortable. And that's why you may have never heard this part. It got cut out. If we take Tom at his word, he made almost everyone uncomfortable. And that's why you may have never heard this part. It got cut out. The Declaration then gives a list of all the sins the Patriots charged against King George. I don't think we need to restate those. You've basically heard them in the past seven episodes.

So suffice it to say that Tom's draft is ready by June 28th, and days later, it's finally time for Congress to vote on Richard Henry Lee's resolution for independence. It's the morning of July 1st, 1776. Second Continental Congress delegates are gathered at the Pennsylvania State House, seated in their Windsor chairs. The debate before them, the Lee Resolution to declare independence. An oval-faced, fair-featured Pennsylvanian rises,

forcefully fighting parliamentary overreach since the Stamp Act with his brilliant publication, Letters from a Farmer in Pennsylvania. This is the famous penman of the revolution, John Dickinson. He begins, The consequences involved in the motion now lying before you are of such magnitude

that I tremble under the oppressive honor of sharing in its determination. Somberly, this moderate Pennsylvanian goes on to argue against an immediate declaration of independence. He believes it will unnecessarily endanger reconciliation with Britain and that foreign powers, like France, won't provide the aid many here think they will. John Dee continues,

To escape from the protection we have in British rule by declaring independence would be like destroying a house before we have got another, in winter, with a small family, then asking a neighbor to take us in and finding he is unprepared. He further reports that their committee on confederation is making terrible progress. Judging things as is, he doubts such a commonwealth of colonies would survive beyond 20 to 30 years. The delegates silently contemplate this bleak outlook on independence.

Finally, John Adams can take it no longer. The rotund New England arises and counters. Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I give my hand and my heart to this vote. It is true indeed that in the beginning that we aimed not at independence. The injustice of England has driven us to arms. If we postpone independence, do we mean to carry on or give up the war? Do we mean to submit and consent that we ourselves shall be ground to powder and our country and its rights trodden down in the dust? I know that we do not mean to submit. The war then must go on.

And if the war must go on, why put off longer the Declaration of Independence? Why then, why, sir, do we not as soon as possible change this from a civil to a national war? If it be the pleasure of heaven that my country shall require the poor offering of my life, the victim shall be ready.

But while I do live, let me have a country, or at least the hope of a country, and that a free country. I leave off as I begun, that live or die, survive or perish. I am for the Declaration. More discussion follows. They vote. With nays from South Carolina and Pennsylvania,

an abstaining New York, and a split Delaware, only nine colonies are in favor of independence. Not good enough. For a movement of this magnitude, they need unanimity. It's a furious night of talking, persuading, convincing, and coaxing as the pro-independence delegates try to win over the moderates for another vote tomorrow. The next day, New York again abstains, but South Carolina and Pennsylvania flip, while Cesar Rodney has ridden 80 miles through a stormy night

to be here and put his home colony of Delaware's vote with the eyes. Thus, the July 2nd vote is 12 colonies in favor of independence, none against. The next day, John Adams excitedly writes to Abigail, The second day of July, 1776, will be the most memorable epoch in the history of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival. It ought to be commemorated as the day of deliverance by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations from one end of this continent to the other, from this time forward forevermore. Ah, so close, John. While Richard Henry Lee's resolution passed on July 2nd,

editing and finalizing the Declaration's wording, like cutting out Tom's diatribe against institutionalized slavery, delays Congress's approval of the actual Declaration two days, until the 4th of July. Ah, so we can see where John's coming from, but since the document says July 4th, that will become the popular date. 56 men signed the declaration. No, not that day. At no point did everyone gather and sign the declaration at once, as John Trumbull's painting will later depict. Rather, delegates will sign as they can over the weeks and months to come,

with many doing so on August 2nd. Nor do we have any proof that John Hancock, whose name will later become synonymous with signature, makes his massive signature because he wants to ensure King George can read it without his spectacles. He probably did so simply because he's the Congress's president. And well, because that's the cool and popular John being John. But regardless of the circumstances of each signer, one thing is certain. They have, as the document says, pledged to each other our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor. And so, after years of buildup and not without doubts,

the delegates have taken the life-risking step of declaring independence. But that'll do for our time in Congress. Not only do we need to follow the fight heading to New York, but we first must make a stop in the Caribbean of yesteryear. It's time to meet an impoverished but ambitious child in this far-off corner of the British Empire. A boy who will soon become one of NYC's most important adopted sons, and one of the future United States' most unlikely founding fathers. Rewind.

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Dairy Farmers of Canada's national quality assurance program with six modules. Modules like Milk Quality, that stands for high standards of milk production. Or Food Safety, producing milk that meets 42 requirements. And animal care, that means caring for every cow. ProAction sets standards of excellence. That's what's behind the Blue Cow logo. Dairy Farmers of Canada. It's the evening of February 19th, 1768. A 39-year-old mother and her at-most 13-year-old son

each occupy a part of the family's single bed in their second-floor apartment at 34 Company Street in the town of Christiansted on the Danish West Indian Isle of St. Croix. Both are deliriously ill. Their misery has known no bounds as they've suffered for days, if not weeks, with rabid fever, chills, bloodletting treatments, and the expulsion of, well, everything from both ends. At least the youth's older brother is okay. And of course, there's the great comfort of their bond as mother and son. They have each other. But at some point this evening,

as the blue-eyed, reddish-brown-haired child involuntarily shakes in the sweat-soaked bed, he notices his mother's stopped moving. Or does his older brother realize this first? We don't know the details, but I can only imagine the emotional wreck these boys must be when, at 9pm, they notice their half-French mother hasn't only stopped moving, she's stopped breathing. I can almost hear their anguished cries. But no. She will neither wake nor rise. And already long abandoned by their father, the boys are now essentially orphans. Broke orphans at that. For within an hour, five probate court agents are at their home, itemizing and seizing personal property to

satisfy their shock-keeping mother's debts before the body's even cold. And all the mourning fevered younger brother can do, little Alex, that is Alexander Hamilton, is sweat, cry, and shake. Before her death, Rachel and her boys, first James, then Alex, never really had it easy. Let me fill you in on Rachel's background. As a Protestant, or Huguenot, her French father, Jean Fausette, fled Louis XIV's France when his majesty ended religious tolerance for non-Catholics by revoking the Edict of Nantes. Jean made his way to that region of the New World known for its sugar-producing islands worked by kidnapped enslaved Africans, the Caribbean or the

West Indies. As we saw in the Seven Years' War, European powers fight for control of these lucrative isles. Meanwhile, individual Europeans come here to make it rich or get off the grid. Here, Jean made a life for himself as a physician with a British woman named Mary Uppington. In 1729, Mary gave birth to the sixth of their eventual seven children. This was Rachel Fawcett. Rachel inherited a small fortune upon her father's death. It didn't last long. Her mother had the half-French girl married off at 16 to a Dane named Johan Lavian, and he quickly squandered it. In fact, Johan made Rachel's life so miserable, she left him. An undoubtedly painful move, given that she couldn't bring her baby boy, Peter.

Enraged, Johan accused her of adultery and had her thrown in jail for a few months, as a man in this world can do if his wife takes off. We'll never know the truth of these charges, but regardless, Rachel was now considered a whore. Yet, in the early 1750s, Rachel found love on the nearby island of St. Kitts in the arms of a Scotsman, James Hamilton. James is of noble birth, but as the fourth of eleven kids, he knew it was not his lot in life to inherit. Thus, he set out to make his fortune in the Caribbean. That never happened, but he met Rachel

and they had two sons, James Jr., then on the British-controlled Caribbean island of Nevis, Alexander, who was born on January 11th, 1755 or 57. That's right. We know the day, but we aren't sure of the year. But in 1759, trouble emerged for the common-law married couple. Rachel's legal husband, Johann, formally filed for divorce. In the process, he stipulated that Rachel should have no claim to his property upon his death.

That all should go to their son, Peter, and under no circumstances to her, and I quote, whore children. He means James Jr. and Alexander Hamilton. Johan got his divorce. He could remarry, Rachel could not. The court's decree forbade her, thus dooming Alex and his brother legally as bastards. This had likely impacted their lives already. The island's Anglican schools do not accept illegitimate children, which is perhaps why Alex's education on Nevis consisted of private tutoring from a Jewish woman and devouring his French-speaking mother's 34 multilingual books.

But now, the boys had little hope of ever escaping their legally imposed illegitimacy. In 1765, the Hamiltons moved back to the currently Danish, future U.S. Virgin Island of St. Croix. It's not long after this that James Sr. abandoned his wife and boys. Does this have to do with the divorce? Finances? We'll never know for sure. Alex will stay in touch with him through letters, but the future founding father will never lay eyes on his own father again.

The single mother then moved her two boys to the two-story at 34 Company Street. The family lived upstairs. Rachel ran the dry goods store on the lower floor. And of course, that brings us back to where we met this family of three. It's here that Rachel and Alex became incredibly sick. And then today, February 19th, 1768, the young, beautiful mother died. Incredibly, Rachel's death isn't the young and lonely Hamilton boy's low point. The immediate aftermath might be, though. First, Rachel's ex, Johan, reemerges. His intervention ensures that the probate court awards what little inheritance Rachel leaves

behind will go solely to her legitimate estranged son. In other words, his son, Peter. Now living in South Carolina and fairly successful, Peter comes to the aisle in 1769 and swoops up all, not offering a penny to his destitute, orphaned half-brothers. Alex's only solace comes in the form of his uncle James Litton interceding to buy back Rachel's small library of books, which clearly mattered to the intellectual boy. But then, more death follows. Young Alex and James are entrusted to the care of their cousin, Peter Litton, but only months later, he kills himself. He's found in bed, lying in his own blood. Their uncle James dies only a month after that.

In sum, the orphaned teenager's entire family in the West Indies is now dead. They're also illegitimate, penniless, and alone in this rough and tumble world where dueling is acceptable, pirates hang from the gallows, and the vast majority of the population are enslaved Africans who die so rapidly from overwork and tropical disease

that the sugar plantation economy only functions because of the ongoing transatlantic slave trade. In fact, it's likely that witnessing the ugliness of slavery up close through his formative years is what will lead Alex to detest the practice, as he will his entire life. But truly, between fatherly abandonment, family deaths, and financial destitution, the boys have had to grow up quickly. But perhaps things are finally looking up for Alex. While his brother James turns to manual labor, Alex's brilliance, already evident, has landed the Tina clerk position at the mercantile firm of Beekman & Kruger.

The future first U.S. Secretary of the Treasury is getting a taste of international trade, moving sugar, rice, flour, cattle, rum, rope, and, much to his displeasure, occasionally slaves. Alex deals in British pounds, pieces of eight, ducats, and other currencies. And yet he dreams of something bigger. Now more or less the adopted son of the successful merchant Thomas Stevens, Alex writes to the merchant's biological son and his fast friend, Edward Ned Stevens, now studying in New York.

I would willingly risk my life, though not my character, to exalt my station. I wish there was a war. Well, that chance for valor is coming, but more immediate is a different kind of violence, a storm. On August 31st, 1772, a hurricane rips across the island of St. Croix. For six hours, waves thrash the coast.

Winds rip up trees and dash them against houses and buildings. Sugar barrels and furniture fly, in some cases, miles. The sound of wind and crashing objects is only pierced by people's screams. The destruction is horrific. And yet, as Alex's biographer, Ron Chernow, will later put it, quote, this natural calamity was to prove his salvation, close quote. Still corresponding with his father, Alex writes to him describing the devastation. Before the youth sends it, though, Presbyterian minister Hugh Knox sees the letter. He's impressed and urges Alex to publish it in the Royal Danish American Gazette.

Readers are floored. How can a teenage kid write so articulately? The business community, likely including a great deal of help from Alex's recently arrived, formerly New York-dwelling cousin, Ann, raises funds to send this kid to study in New York. They probably hope he'll come back to St. Croix, a well-educated doctor. He's never coming back. Sailing into Boston in 1773, Alex quickly heads to New York City. He makes acquaintances, then continues on to New Jersey to study at Elizabethtown Academy and acquire the Latin, Greek, and math. His informal education didn't include,

but is needed for college. He's soon accepted to Princeton by a very impressed Dr. Witherspoon. But when the trustees refuse Alex's proposed two-year graduation plan, he opts to study at King's College instead. He enrolls around late 1773 to early 1774. Now, as we know from past episodes, things are heating up politically by this point,

and Alex gets involved. The young student gives an impromptu speech on the Common near King's College on July 6, 1774, in which he defends the recent Boston Tea Party and denounces Parliament's harsh response with the coercive acts. People are stunned at his eloquence. He then gets into a war of words with the Anglican rector of Westchester, Samuel Seabury. Playing off of the famous Pennsylvania farmer pamphlet penned by our favorite moderate constitutional delegate, John Dickinson,

the rector adopts farmer as his pen name. That's why Alex's second pamphlet aimed at this man of God, which is an 80-page masterpiece published on February 23, 1775, bears the title Farmer Refuted. But in the aftermath of Massachusetts' Battle of Lexington and Concord that April, Alex doesn't assert that the pen is mightier than the sword. He simply wields both. Alex joins a volunteered militia, drills, and trains while studying up on military science,

and that August, this college student who once wished for a war so that he could prove his mettle and move up in the world, takes his first big risk. It's late at night, October 23rd, 1775. The Liberty Boys' leader, Isaac Sears, has brought a group of 15 or so New Yorkers to the southern tip of Manhattan Island, to Fort George. They know Massachusetts has seen two major battles already. Now, out in their own harbor, the 64-gun HMS Asia waits and menaces the city. Can they really leave the 24 cannons in this fort as a gift for the British? They don't think so. These patriots mean to steal these cannons. The volunteers pull hard on the ropes. This is no small feat. Not intended to travel,

the one-ton-a-piece cannons are mounted on very small wheels. Each man strains as the coarse rope cuts into his hands. As one ardent supporter of the Patriot cause struggles, an Irish immigrant in Taylor named Hercules Mulligan, he looks up and sees his young friend Alexander Hamilton. Alex hands Hercules his musket and takes his place. But as the Liberty Boys work, their voices and the cries of straining wheels echo across the harbor. It isn't long before the crew of the HMS Asia realizes what's going on. The sailors answer with a few shots of their own. Candles and lamps light city windows.

Drums beat a warning. The city wakes as Alex is dragging a cannon through its streets. Then, the Asia really lets it go. A broadside of 34 guns. Liberty boys and citizens flee for safety, but as they do, Alex sees Hercules and asks, my musket? Shoot. The Irishman realizes he left it back at the fort. Hercules can hardly believe how Alex responds. To quote the Irish tailor, I told him where I had left it, and he went for it, notwithstanding that the firing continued with as much concern as if the vessel had not been there.

You can say a lot of things about Alex, many future political enemies will, but there's no doubting his courage, hustle, intelligence, confidence, and frankly, his charm. These traits have all helped this scrappy, bilingual, Caribbean-born scholar and soldier not only to survive his destitute origins, but thrive and rise. He'll continue to do so. Come March 1776, the same time that George Washington is scaring General William Howe out of Boston, roughly 20-year-old Alex will be promoted to artillery captain. And he's only getting started.

We'll see plenty more of him in the years to follow as he ascends into the ranks of the A-Lister founding fathers. But speaking of George and General Howe, it's time we circled back to their contest, which, with Boston over, is coming to New York. The Virginian general is making his way here now to desperately prepare this far less defensible city against the far larger, better trained, and better equipped British military. Amazon's holiday deals are here so you can celebrate the season early. With low prices on decor, electronics, and beauty. Perfect for stocking stuffers. And my stockings looking good.

Shop holiday deals early on Amazon now. Interior Chinatown is an all-new series based on the best-selling novel by Charles Yu about a struggling Asian actor who gets a bigger part than he expected when he witnesses a crime in Chinatown is an all-new series based on the best-selling novel by Charles Yu about a struggling Asian actor who gets a bigger part than he expected when he witnesses a crime in Chinatown. Streaming November 19th, only on Disney+. George Washington arrives in New York City on April 13th, 1776. He's undoubtedly relieved to find that this city of 20,000 hasn't caught a whiff of General William Howe, but the tall, dignified Virginian knows his British foe is coming.

George is so sure of it, he left General Artemis Ward with a minimal force to hold Boston and is otherwise bringing the whole army to NYC. Setting up headquarters in a townhouse at Number One Broadway, our Continental Commander further realizes that New York will be a far greater challenge than Boston. Neither geography nor local politics are with him. Remember that Boston is a city on a peninsula, with peninsulas around it, one to its north and one to its south. This allowed George to take the southern peninsula's Dorchester Heights and trap Billy Howe and his not terribly useful navy. But New York reverses the situation.

Between Manhattan, Staten, and Long Islands, other small specks of land, and the mouth of the Hudson River's deep, ocean-bound ship-accommodating depths, New York City and the surrounding area is an invading Navy's dream. Further, while Boston is a hotbed of rebellious patriots, New York is still lukewarm, split rather equally between Tory loyalists and patriots. In fact, that June, a dozen loyalists even conspired to assassinate George. The only dead man this failed plot yields is an executed Thomas Hickey, but good God. No wonder George is feverishly preparing fortifications before Howe's arrival.

Sounds like it's the Brits, not the Yanks, who will have the advantage this time. Speaking of Howe, where is the brave, pleasure-loving general? Fleeing Boston last March, his fleet sailed to Halifax, Nova Scotia. There, his forces reorganized and resupplied. Now, as we enter the month of June, they're sailing back down toward the rebellious colonies. On June 29th, George Washington's officers spy through their telescopes the first vessels of the massive British fleet in the lower bay. A few days later, July 2nd, Redcoats land unopposed on the fertile farmland of Staten

Island. So it begins. Yet, despite Howe's arrival, the Patriots get a shot of morale as word of the recently signed Declaration of Independence reaches New York. George has it read to his men and a crowd of New Yorkers on the evening of July 9th. Even in tepid New York, hearts stir. The people cheer and shout at its conclusion, but then turn into a mob. Armed with ropes and bars, they charge down to Bowling Green and pull over the lead equestrian statue of King George III, decapitate it, and mount the head on a spike.

Not lacking a sense of irony, patriots also melt the lead statue to make musket balls to shoot at His Majesty's troops. They'll need the ammo. Joining William is the Navy's new commander-in-chief in America, his brother, Admiral Lord Richard Howe, or Black Dick as he's known, which is a perfectly normal nickname for a gentleman named Richard with a dark complexion. He commands more than 70 warships manned by 13,000 men. As for the Army's commander-in-chief, Lord William Howe, he's picked up 9,000 German mercenaries called Hessians, which brings his headcount to 32,000 men. The Howe brothers team with terrible might.

Meanwhile, George's army number's only around 20,000. Yet, despite holding a clear advantage, Billy Howe doesn't come out swinging. He knows he's on more loyalist turf than in Boston, and, empowered to offer pardons in the name of the king, he'd prefer reconciliation to conquest. loyalist turf than in Boston, and empowered to offer pardons in the name of the king, he'd prefer reconciliation to conquest. The British commander sends letters to George Washington with hopes of peace talks. His letters are spurned for being addressed to George Washington Esquire rather than General, but George still agrees to meet with British Colonel James Patterson. When they speak on July 20th, the colonel talks of pardons,

but nothing more. George answers, those who have committed no fault want no pardon. We are only defending what we deem our indisputable rights. Damn. To their credit, the Howe brothers will attempt further peace talks, including a meeting with John Adams, Ben Franklin, and Edward Rutledge on Stanton Island later this summer. But all will come to no avail, as they can't offer the guarantees patriots want. Guess it's time for General Howe to turn to his military might. It's 3 a.m., August 27th, 1776. We're on the western side of Long Island, where George Washington has stationed 8,000 or 9,000 men

to protect the small hamlet of Brooklyn. The majority of these troops are in fortifications on the heights. A few thousand hold positions a little farther out. And it's at this quiet, dark hour, when all but night sentries are sleeping, that British General James Grant strikes. As British muskets crack and flash near Gowanus Road, General William Alexander, or Lord Stirling as the Scottish-American and earldom claimant is known,

quickly answers with his 1,600 men. His sort of lordship holds strong on the American right, while Hessian artillery strikes at the center. Yet, these German mercenaries don't advance. Convinced he has men to spare then, American General John Sullivan sends troops to reinforce Lord Stirling. The battle rages, and the Americans hold their own as the sun rises, but only until 9 a.m. Just then, two cannons fire from the American left. Two British cannons, that is.

Turns out the 3 a.m. attack was just a diversion, as Loyalist farmers led Generals William Howe, Henry Clinton, and Charles Cornwallis' forces on a night-long march along the little-known, barely-observed, and unprotected Jamaica Pass. Having outflanked their foe, 10,000 Redcoats charge in, as do the Hessians upon hearing the two cannon signal. Coming from NYC, George Washington crosses the East River with reinforcements just in time to witness defeat. This British plan, Clinton's plan, was brilliant. Apart from a few hundred brave Marylanders, American troops quickly collapse and flee to their fortifications.

The British have pinned half of George's entire army in Brooklyn. Yet, General Howe doesn't press the attack. Possibly still hoping for peace, possibly hoping to avoid a rebel and redcoat bloodbath on the American's entrenched positions, possibly just his characteristic proclivity to procrastinate, Howe leaves George and his troops, for the moment, trapped at the island's edge. Wrong move. Two nights later, amid the foul weather of August 29th, George begins ferrying his men across the East River back to Manhattan Island.

Keenly aware of the danger if caught by the British, oarsmen must be grateful for the foul weather and fog as they row back and forth in the darkness for nearly nine hours. Miraculously, this works. George has evacuated all 9,000 of his troops from Long Island to Manhattan. Witnesses say the Virginian general

risked himself above all, refusing to cross until every one of his men had done so first. George's retreat was daring and brilliant. Still, the Battle of Long Island, with its costly 1,500 American casualties and thousands of desertions, was a major setback for the already outnumbered patriots.

George's army is in bad shape, and its inexperience is showing. On September 15th, five British warships provide cover as Red Coast and Hessians pour onto Manhattan's eastern shore a few miles above NYC at Kipps Bay. Terrified rookie American militiamen run from their shallow trenches. Freshly arriving brigades take one look at the scene, literally throw their muskets and flee. George Washington is livid. The Continental Commander-in-Chief

throws his hat and yells, Are these the men with whom I am to defend America? Good God, have I got such troops as these? George has lost control of the southern tip of Manhattan, the 18th century limits of New York City. His forces take refuge in their fortifications further up the elongated island on Harlem Heights. The next day, George sees victory when a justifiably overconfident advanced guard of redcoats gets sloppy and allows him to outflank

them. Finally, this win, George's first since Boston, is a much-needed psychological reprieve. He also takes note of a very talented artillery captain named Alexander Hamilton. But this September 16th engagement was small, more of a skirmish. The Virginian general needs to turn things around, so he's trying everything, including espionage. George understands the value of good intel. But being a spy is dangerous in the 18th century. It's considered undignified and worthy of death.

Because of that perspective, George is about to lose one of his young patriots. A Yale classmate of the future Culpeper spy ring leader, Benjamin Talmadge, 21-year-old Connecticut officer, Nathan Hale, volunteered in early September to go behind enemy lines to gather intel. Whether he trusted the wrong people with his true identity or his loyalist cousin Samuel Hale identified him, we don't know. But Nathan gets caught on

September 21st, just one week after the Harlem Heights engagement. General Howe himself interrogates Nathan. Carrying indicting papers, the too honest for his own good, young Connecticut patriot confesses. And as spies have no right to a trial, the British execute Nathan by hanging the next day. Legend tells us that Nathan's last words are, I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country. That account comes from Captain William Hull. Nathan's friend and fellow Connecticut-er,

the young captain reports that after the execution, a witnessing British officer came to the American camp under a flag of truce and told both him and Captain Alexander Hamilton the tale. But according to the Essex Journal's account, five months later, Nathan said, you are shedding the blood of the tale. But according to the Essex Journal's account five months later, Nathan said, you are shedding the blood of the innocent. If I had 10,000 lives, I would lay them all down, if called to do it, in the defense of my injured, bleeding country. Meanwhile, historians will

speculate the line might have been a riff off of a popular play, Cato, which includes this line, what a pity it is that we can die but once to serve our country. We can't say for sure what Nathan's last words were, but all who witnessed his hanging were impressed with how the young American captain met his end. British Captain Frederick McKenzie wrote afterward that, He behaved with good composure and resolution, saying he thought it the duty of every good officer to obey any orders given him by his commander-in-chief, and desired the spectators to be at all times

prepared to meet death in whatever shape it might appear. So, like the whites of their eyes lying at Bunker Hill, the legendary version likely captures the essence of reality. The young Connecticut-born officer met death well and spoke of serving one's country to the bitter end. How George Washington reacts or doesn't to this news, we'll never know. There are no records. But to return to George, let's recap his situation as we enter October. In less than two months, he's lost Long Island, the southern part of Manhattan Island, including New York City, thousands of men to injury, death, or as prisoners of war, and seen still thousands more desert, including 6,000 of an originally 8,000-strong force from Connecticut.

Meanwhile, Congress continues to fund short enlistments because they're cheaper than long-term enlistments. This leaves George with a continuous revolving door of soldiers who leave about the second they start to have enough experience to do any good. The American commander-in-chief is despondent. On September 30th, he writes to his cousin, Lund, Washington, in confidence, I tell you that I never was in such an unhappy, divided state since I was born. Nor are things getting better. With New York's geography being a gift to naval powers, the British sail out on October 12th, going up the East River and into the connecting Long Island Sound. They're poised to box in the American army on Manhattan Island. Well, George can't have that, so he heads north to try and

head them off. This leads to the Battle of White Plains on October 28th. The British suffer more casualties than the Americans, but it's another loss for George and another retreat in the dark of night. He moves his forces farther north still to the high ground of Newcastle. Now things are truly desperate. George simply does not have enough men. If he moves from his position, he gives the Redcoats access to New England. But if he stays put, the Redcoats might move on America's de facto capital of Philadelphia. Further, George still has troops down south in the area of Harlem. The Americans have a fort there, called Fort Washington, that sits on the edge of the Hudson River.

Directly across the river, on the New Jersey side, they also have Fort Lee. These two forts protect against the British Navy making use of this wide waterway, so they're important too. How can George defend all of this? The Virginian splits his forces four ways. One, troops under the command of General Nathaniel Green, aka the Fighting Quaker, will stay on the Hudson River at Forts Washington and Lee. Two, General William Heath will hold ground farther up north, to help if Forts Washington and Lee must be evacuated. Three, 7,000 troops will stay where they are now, even farther north at Newcastle, with Georgia's English-born

second-in-command, General Charles Lee. This will keep the Redcoats from sneaking off to New England. And four, George is going to take a measly 2,000 or so men across the Hudson River to protect New Jersey and the way to Philadelphia. He'll pray to God that he can get more troops while in Jersey and that, if a fight goes down on his side of the Hudson, Charles Lee will rush over and save him. But none of this works. After George crosses the Hudson to New Jersey on November 12th, the American commander is informed the British are moving with a massive force against the Manhattan-based Fort Washington. The poor, inexperienced Americans built too big of a fortification to protect.

The British, who actually know what they're doing, noticed and are now moving in. It's an American debacle. Perhaps the only patriot hero here, as historian David McCullough posits, is 25-year-old Margaret Corbin. She takes over her husband John's cannon when he dies in action and continues firing until British grapeshot severely wounds her, permanently injuring her left arm. George can only watch from the Hudson's New Jersey side as the British take the fort,

its nearly 3,000 protectors, and numerous cannons. Worse yet, it has a domino effect. Without Fort Washington, Fort Lee can't be defended either. Knowing this, George retreats, abandoning the fort to the British, who take it effortlessly on November 20th. George's reputation is in tatters. He hasn't looked this bad since he botched it at Fort Necessity in 1754, as I'm sure you recall from episode one. People are doubting him. George's previous aide-de-camp and now adjutant general,

Joseph Reed, writes to Charles Lee on November 21st, implying that the English-born general ought to be the commander-in-chief. I do not mean to flatter, but I confess I do think that it is entirely owing to you that this army and the liberties of America, so far as they are dependent on it, are not totally cut off. Nor am I singular in my opinion. Every gentleman of the family, the officers and soldiers generally, have a confidence in you.

I don't know if every officer actually agrees with Joseph that Charles Lee should replace George, but I can name one officer who does. Charles Lee. That sneaky bastard writes to his friend in Congress, Dr. Benjamin Rush, had I the powers, I could do you much good. Meanwhile, Charles initially spurns George's order to come support him in New Jersey. Charles prefers to stay in New York, hoping to score a quick victory to show up his commander.

But ironically, the self-serving general gets himself captured. Finally coming to New Jersey, Charles chooses not to camp with his men on the night of December 12th. He seeks the comforts of a tavern run by a rather attractive widow named Miss White instead. The British take the second-in-command American general prisoner the next morning

wearing nothing but his nightgown. It falls to General John Sullivan to lead Charles' force of 4,000 on to George. Meanwhile, George leads his frozen, broken army farther west, through New Jersey, across the ice-chunk-ridden Delaware River, and into Pennsylvania. But General William Howe ends his pursuit and will pass the winter comfortably in New York. Frankly, he doesn't need to follow. Congress is fleeing Philadelphia. George Washington's been driven out of New York,

across New Jersey, and into Pennsylvania. He's not terribly loyal, but still number two general is in custody, as are thousands of other patriot troops. All George has is a tattered reputation and a dismal, ill-equipped, malnourished, poorly trained rookie army suffering through the cold of winter with many of the men's enlistments expiring at the end of the month, December 1776. This revolution appears to be all but over.

George needs a miracle, a Christmas miracle. HTDS is supported by premium membership fans. You can join by clicking the link in the episode A Christmas Miracle. Thank you. Jennifer Magnolea, Jeremy Wells, Jessica Poppock, Joe Dobis, John Frugledugel, John Boovey, John Keller, John Oliveros, John Radlavich, John Schaefer, John Sheff, Jordan Corbett, Joshua Steiner, Justin M. Spriggs, Justin May, Kristen Pratt, Karen Bartholomew, Cassie Conecco, Kim R., Kyle Decker, Lawrence Neubauer, Linda Cunningham, Mark Ellis, Matthew Mitchell, Matthew Simmons, Melanie Jan, Nick Seconder, Nick Caffrel, Noah Hoff, Owen Sedlak, Paul Goeringer, Randy Guffrey, Brees Humphreys Wadsworth, Rick Brown, Sarah Trawick, Samuel Lagasse, Sharon Theisen, Sean Baines, Steve Williams, Creepy Girl, Tisha Black, and Zach Jackson. What did it take to survive an ancient siege? Why was the cult of Dionysus behind so many slave revolts in ancient Rome? What's the tragic history and mythology behind Japan's most haunted ancient forest? We're Jen and Jenny from Ancient History Fangirl. Join us to explore ancient history and mythology from a fun, sometimes tipsy, perspective.

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