It
strikes me that it may appear, judging from how often certain names appears
within these pages, that I am only interested in shining a light on the work of
the more famous members of the Founding Generation – the Jeffersons, Adams’,
Franklins, and Hamiltons of it all. I wish to make it clear to my dear readers
(who are so few they ought to be classified as a precious resource) that I am
very conscious of the need to give attention to some of the lesser known
participants in the American Founding. While I hope that my attempts to examine
the writings of certain Ant-Federalist pamphleteers, among them Melancton
Smith, Robert Yates, and Mercy Otis Warren, have gone some distance toward that
goal, I yet feel I would be remiss if I delved no deeper into the rich literary
cannon of the Revolutionary era and persisted until the end of my days in
memorializing the same half-dozen men who are in no further need of
memorialization.
The American Revolution was not
carried off solely by a roomful of lawyers, merchants, and amateur philosophers
in Philadelphia. Across thirteen states, hundreds of legislators, diplomats,
financiers, statesmen, and soldiers worked tirelessly to transform the lofty
ideals embodied by the Declaration of Independence into functioning
governments. Of those hundreds, a mere handful is yet remembered. This is understandable,
given the relatively limited scope of their individual contributions, and
unfortunate, given that many of them endured significant hardship in their
attempts to give substance to the promise embodied in the phrase “The United
States of America.” If it is in my power, however meagre it may be, to draw the
attention of some small number of people to the life and accomplishments of
even one of these neglected patriots, then I feel it is something that I should
do.
To
that end, let us turn now to the story of the fourteenth state and one of its
own redoubtable founders.
Because
of course there was a fourteen state. While the narrative of thirteen colonies
banding together in the face of tyranny and becoming thirteen states is
doubtless as familiar as it is comforting, it has hopefully become clear by now
that the Revolutionary era is one which stubbornly resists simplification. At
the same time that thirteen sisters set about casting off the shackles of their
distant, unfeeling, and arbitrary patriarch, a fourteenth lent its strength to
the same cause while simultaneously continuing its longstanding struggle
against one of its overbearing siblings. That fourteenth state was known, then
as now, as Vermont. Born out a conflict over land grants between settlers and
colonial authorities, the self-declared republic of the Green Mountain was a
by-product both of intercolonial rivalries and the chaos that the Revolution
visited upon the continent. In spite of its status as unrecognized and
unofficial, however, Vermont actively participated in the Revolutionary War, possessed
its own cohort of founding fathers, and drafted its own constitution in 1777.
Indeed, the story of its foundation and early existence in many ways runs in
parallel to that of the United States at large. In this sense, the creation of
Vermont might fairly be termed the “revolution within the Revolution.”
When
one speaks of the founding of Vermont, of course, one cannot help but also
mention the name of perhaps its favorite son. Ethan Allen, though born in
Connecticut, become one of the most steadfast defenders of the land claims
possessed by Vermont settlers once he migrated there in the early 1770s.
Unsuccessful in court, he thereafter organized and led the famed Green Mountain
Boys militia, and though a campaign of harassment and written criticism become
a persistent thorn in the side of successive governments in neighboring New
York. It was through his service to the united colonies, however, that Allen
transcended from regional rabble-rouser to American folk hero. Though not a
philosopher on par with Thomas Jefferson or an administrator possessed of the
ambition and drive of Alexander Hamilton, Allen’s frontier sensibilities,
reputation for insubordinate behavior, and self-promotion through written
accounts of his military escapades helped make him one of the more popular
Revolutionary figures in the 19th century United States. On par with
Davy Crocket or Daniel Boone, he came to symbolize the rugged individualism,
disdain for authority, and common-sense ingenuity so many Americans felt was at
the core of their national identity. Though Allen’s lustre has faded somewhat
since that time, his significance as an early revolutionary and a political
agitator remains eminently worthy of discussion and analysis. To that end, the
series that follows will focus on a pamphlet written by Allen in 1778 entitled An Animadversory Address to the Inhabitants
of the State of Vermont.
Said pamphlet sought to refute the efforts of New York’s
newly-established state government to persuade the inhabitants of Vermont to
acknowledge its authority in exchange for recognition of their land claim, and
struck a balance in tone somewhere between casual and prosecutorial. Against
the power of a state government, and its formidable chief executive George
Clinton (1739-1812), Allen deployed a style of debate that made use of
extensive citation in order to establish and counter the arguments of his chosen
opponent. To this he added a relaxed but confidant understanding of social
contract philosophy, a recounting of the contributions made by Vermont to the
general cause of the United States, and a number of crucial points concerning
the nature of private property and the continuity of American state governments
vis-à-vis their colonial predecessors. It is a brief document and proceeds at a
brisk pace, yet appears under no circumstances to be the product of anything
less than a sharp and incisive intellect. Allen’s penchant for rebelliousness
is in evidence plainly enough, but so is his close understanding of the legal
ramifications that surrounded both the claims of his fellow Vermont settlers
and those of the state of New York. Consequently, An Animadversory Address can be said to offer insight into both the capacity of an American statesman who did
not possess an advanced education to cultivate a nuanced understanding of
contemporary political affairs, as well as the contentious and improbable
circumstances that gave birth to the state of Vermont.
Before Allen became a war hero and renegade founding father,
however, he was just a man from Connecticut. Born in Litchfield in 1738, his father
Joseph moved the family further west to the town of Cornwall around 1740 in an
effort to escape the religious turmoil unleashed in the colony by the
Protestant religious revival now termed the Great Awakening. Cornwall and
Litchfield both were located in Western Connecticut, in many ways still a
frontier region in the middle of the 18th century. This presented
families like the Allens with hardships and opportunities in equal measure.
Though far, by contemporary standards, from the colonial capital at Hartford,
and lacking certain amenities enjoyed by inhabitants of more developed urban
centres, the relatively undeveloped nature of Cornwall allowed Joseph Allen to
purchase land cheaply and establish a fairly large and successful farm by the
time he died in 1755. The first-born of seven children, Ethan was influenced as
a youth by both by the rugged circumstances of his upbringing and the religious
sensibilities of his pious and diligent father. Demonstrating an early interest
in learning, the younger Allen set his mind on attending Yale College and in
preparation began to attend studies in Salisbury (also in western Connecticut)
with a local minister.
Forced to abandon his education after his father’s demise,
Allen spent the following decade moving from one venture to the next. During
the Seven Years War (1754-1763) he briefly served in the colonial militia,
returned to Cornwall tend his family’s farm in 1762, married a woman five years
his senior named Mary Brownson, moved to Salisbury, fathered five children,
became part owner of an iron works, and began what would prove to be a lengthy
career as a scofflaw. Though his disdain for convention first manifested in a
series of relatively benign incidents – a dispute with neighbors over errant
pigs and an unauthorized smallpox inoculation that violated town regulations –
the rebellious aspect of Allen’s character would come to fundamentally shape
the direction of his life. Similarly foundational during this era was his
acquaintance and friendship with a New York doctor name Thomas Young
(1731-1777). The son of Anglo-Irish immigrants and a religious non-conformist,
Young became a profound influence on Allen during their times as neighbors in
Salisbury. From Young, Allen learned a great deal about philosophy, political
theory, and theology and the two contrived to prepare a manuscript attacking
organized religion and promoting their shared Deist beliefs. Though Thomas
Young departed Connecticut for New York in 1764, taking the draft he and Allen
had been working on with him, his influence on his younger colleague would
prove to have been profound. Indeed, it was Young who illegally inoculated
Allen against smallpox, and who suggested the name “Vermont” for the disputed
territory north of Massachusetts.
The five years that followed Allen’s parting with Thomas
Young saw the continuation of the former’s now-accustomed transitory lifestyle.
After moving to Northampton, Massachusetts sometime prior to 1766, and staying
there long enough for his wife to give birth to their son Joseph, Allen was
expelled from the town in July, 1767 for reasons which were not recorded. In
all likelihood, his tendency to defy convention and his unusual religious convictions
played some part in earning him the ire of his neighbors. Thereafter, Allen
returned briefly to Salisbury before migrating just across the colonial
boundary to Sheffield, Massachusetts. In 1770, still resident in Sheffield, he
was approached by a group of men originally from western Connecticut who had
purchased land grants in a disputed region to the north from New Hampshire
Governor Benning Wentworth (1696-1770) and subsequently become embroiled in a
legal dispute with the government of neighboring New York. Known by that point
in his life as a man willing stand in defiance of authority, Allen agreed to
take leadership of the informal association (a group which included his cousin
Remember Baker and Baker’s cousin Seth Warner) and departed for New York to
prepare for the impending court case.
The land possessed by the men that Allen agreed to lead in
1770 fell within a region of British North America bounded on four sides by
colonial Massachusetts, New Hampshire, New York, and Quebec. Though originally
claimed in part by Massachusetts in the early 18th century, the
settlement of the boundary with neighboring New Hampshire theoretically left
the territory west of the Connecticut River to the disposition of the latter
colony. In 1741 the aforementioned Wentworth was appointed Governor of New
Hampshire, the first not to be simultaneous Governor of Massachusetts. Eager to
assert his colony’s claim, Wentworth chose to interpret the region now vacated
by Massachusetts as extending as far west as a line running parallel to the
Hudson River at a distance of twenty miles. This conflicted with claims made by
the government of New York to the same expanse of terrain, justified by
reference to the original letters patent that established the colony in the 17th
century. Heedless of the conflict he was about to unleash, Wentworth began to
sell parcels of land within the disputed region in 1749 to settlers and land
speculators in return for a small kickback on each grant.
The government of New York, which had also begun selling
land in the contested territory, demanded that Wentworth cease on numerous
occasions. While claiming to have terminated any land surveys and sales while
awaiting the verdict of adjudication by the Crown, the Governor of New
Hampshire continued to dole out grants into the early 1760s and actively
encouraged grant owners to settle on their land, cultivate it, and form
communities. Upon an appeal by beleaguered authorities in New York, the Board
of Trade – responsible for administering the colonies – ruled against Wentworth
in 1764 by reaffirming that the Connecticut River formed the western border of
the Province of New Hampshire. Considering this as a wholesale invalidation of
the grants made by Wentworth – one hundred thirty-five in all – the government
of New York divided the region into four counties (Albany, Cumberland,
Charlotte, and Gloucester), and demanded payments often in excess of the
original purchase price in exchange for recognizing the so-called “New
Hampshire Grants.” Those who did not, or could not, pay had their claims
nullified and the deed to their land sold. In response to the outcry by
residents and grant-holders, New York authorities agreed in the late 1760s to
suspend further land sales in the disputed region until the issue was settled
by the colony’s Supreme Court.
When the case finally arrived before the court in 1770, the
New Hampshire Grant owners were led by one Ethan Allen and represented by
Pennsylvania lawyer-in-training Jared Ingersoll (1749-1822). Unfortunately, and
unsurprisingly, the odds were already stacked against the defendants.
Cadwallader Colden (1688-1776), the Lieutenant-Governor of New York, James
Duane (1733-1797), the chief prosecutor, and Robert Livingston (1708-1790), the
Chief Justice of the New York Supreme Court, had all purchased grants in the
disputed territory and were doubtless uninterested in invalidating their own
rights as property-holders. The trial thus reached a speedy conclusion. The New
Hampshire Grants, seen as illegitimate by the government of New York, were
ruled inadmissible as evidence, and the claims of the grant holders were
brushed aside. Allen, who at some point between being contacted by the
petitioners and the conclusion of the trial had purchased a series of grants
from Governor Wentworth himself, soon after departed for the contested region
to deliver the verdict in person. At Bennington, founded in 1749 as the first
chartered town in the New Hampshire Grants, he met with a group of local
settlers in the Catamount Tavern in order to discuss what options remained to
them. This discussion gave birth to a militia company known as the Green
Mountain Boys, led by Allen and organized with the intention of resisting the
efforts of New York to assert its authority in the Grants by force of arms.
The next several years witnessed a slowly but surely
escalating campaign of intimidation, property destruction, and general
agitation. For their part, the Green Mountain Boys sought to dissuade New York
grant owners from settling in the disputed territory, and New York surveyors
from facilitating the sale of more land. Houses were burned, people were
manhandled, and a whole host of threats, polemics, proposed truces, and
denunciations were exchanged with authorities in the neighboring colony. New
York, under the leadership of Governor William Tryon (1729-1788), meanwhile
attempted to quiet the incipient rebellion that Allen and his followers had
stirred by branding several of the militia members outlaws and offering rewards
ranging from £20 to £100 for their capture. Allen responded by drawing up
notices of his own that labeled prominent New York grant holders criminals and
tyrants, accompanied by parallel cash rewards. Unfortunately, these theatrical
tactics proved insufficient on their own to maintain the enthusiasm of the New
Hampshire Grant owners in the face of a struggle with no end in sight against a
much larger and wealthier adversary. Thankfully for Allen and his militia
followers, Governor Tryon helped renew their flagging sense of outrage by
approving a law in 1774 that handed down exceedingly stiff penalties to those
caught intriguing against the colonial government – meetings of three people or
more “for unlawful purposes” were forbidden – or interfering with its agents –
the punishment for which was death. Spurred by these harsh terms, Allen spent
the following summer drafting a two hundred page polemic laying out the
position of the New Hampshire Grant holders, and then in 1775 helping pen a
plea to the Crown for relief from New York’s intransigent behavior. The latter
effort, unfortunately, was never completed. In April of that year, in Middlesex
Country, Massachusetts, the American Revolutionary War had begun.
At this point in Allen’s life, already possessed of a rather
unusual trajectory, his fortunes shifted yet again. At the request of a militia
company raised in his native Connecticut, he agreed to lend the assistance of
the Green Mountain Boys to the planned capture of Fort Ticonderoga in
northeastern New York. Though no doubt motivated by the same philosophical,
cultural, or personal impulses as any man who served in the Revolutionary War,
it is likely Allen also perceived the expedition as a chance to improve the
general perception of him and his fellow grant owners. The attack, led by Allen
and Connecticut-born, Massachusetts-commissioned militia officer Benedict
Arnold (1741-1801), was a complete success. The lightly garrisoned post
surrendered without either side firing a shot, and a follow-up assault on
nearby Fort Crown Point resulted in another British defeat. Allen, eager to
press the advantage and secure some measure of glory for himself, pushed on
against the council of the more experienced Arnold and attempted to capture
Fort Saint John, on the Richelieu River in British Quebec. The effort was
ill-considered and unplanned, and the one hundred Green Mountain Boys who
accompanied their founder barely escaped with their lives. As commonly occurred
throughout his life, Allen allowed his enthusiasm and his ego to get the better
of him. Equally characteristic, however, was his determination to press forward
regardless with proposals for the wholesale invasion of Quebec.
The next several months Allen spent quarrelling with Arnold
over the spoils of their joint victories, imploring the Continental Congress
not to abandon the captured forts, requesting the delegates in Philadelphia
authorize an attack on Montreal, and pleading for the inclusion of the Green
Mountain Boys in the newly-authorized Continental Army. Strident as ever, he
succeeded in the latter two appeals. In June, 1775 Congress granted General
Phillip Schuyler (1733-1804) authorization to plan an invasion of British
Canada while also directing him to form a regiment around the Green Mountain
Boys and see that they were paid for their service at Ticonderoga. In spite of
the years-long insurgency that had been waged by Allen against authorities in
New York, he also managed to convince the colony’s revolutionary government to
agree to support the adoption of the Boys by Congress and provide for their
provisioning. In spite of these early successes, however, Allen’s headstrong
nature caught up with him more than once over the next several months. Fatigued
by his stalled campaign of resistance, annoyed by his egotism, and distressed
by the foolishness he had displayed during his failed attempt to capture Fort
Saint John, the newly-restructured Green Mountain Boys rejected him as their
leader for the upcoming invasion of Quebec. Indeed, the assembled companies did
not deign to assign him any role at all in the regiment, and he was forced to
request its new leader Seth Warner allow him to accompany the men as a civilian
scout during the coming campaign.
When the invasion finally began in August, 1775, Allen
discovered fairly quickly that his presence was cause for resentment and
concern among the officers in command. Though requested by both General
Schuyler and his replacement Richard Montgomery (1738-1775) to scout the area
between Fort Saint John and Montreal, and help raise a force of French-speaking
locals sympathetic to the American cause, Montgomery at least may have done so
to ensure that the famously insubordinate Allen was kept away from the bulk of
his encampment. Chastened and isolated, the former leader of the Green Mountain
Boys thereafter plotted with the officer to whom he had been assigned, Major
John Brown (1744-1780), to assemble a small force and capture Montreal on his
own. Though Brown and his followers failed to rendezvous with Allen on the
north bank of the St. Lawrence River, he pushed ahead anyway, and he and thirty
of his men were subsequently captured at the disastrous Battle of Longue-Pointe
(September 25, 1775). Allen spent the next three years as a prisoner of the
British, first in a prison ship anchored off Montreal, and then successively in
Pendennis Castle in England, Cork, Ireland, and a series of vessels off the
American coast. In 1777 he was paroled in New York City, giving him limited
freedom of movement, and then placed in solitary confinement for violating the
terms of his release. He was finally exchanged for a British officer in May,
1778 and reported to Continental Army Commander George Washington on the 14th
of that month. Granted the rank of Colonel in recognition of the hardships he
had endured, Allen was given a monthly salary and told to await assignment.
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