r/revolutionarywar

William Hooper grew up in Boston, went to Harvard, and studied law under James Otis, the man whose arguments against arbitrary British authority essentially invented the constitutional language of colonial resistance. Then he moved to North Carolina, became deputy attorney general, and promptly spent several years defending colonial government against backcountry farmers who thought the system was corrupt and rigged against them.

The Regulators weren't wrong about everything. They were protesting real abuses: corrupt local officials, excessive fees, taxes that hit small farmers harder than eastern elites. But their resistance turned disorderly and sometimes violent, and Hooper sided with Governor Tryon's government against them. In 1770, a crowd of Regulators in Hillsborough grabbed him and dragged him through the streets.

Hooper wasn't a hypocrite for siding with the government that day. He genuinely believed that legitimate authority deserved obedience and that disorder was its own kind of tyranny. That belief is actually what makes his later trajectory interesting. He didn't abandon his principles when he moved toward independence. He applied them to a different target.

By 1773 and 1774, Parliament's actions were convincing him that Britain itself had become the greater threat to constitutional government. The same framework he had used to defend the colonial government against the Regulators now pointed toward resistance against the Crown. When Parliament closed Boston's harbor after the Tea Party, his New England roots became unusually visible. He helped rally North Carolinians behind his native city, presided over meetings that pushed the colony toward its first Provincial Congress, and started writing publicly against Crown policy.

By 1774 he was already telling friends privately that the colonies were moving rapidly toward independence, which at that point was still a genuinely radical thing to say out loud.

North Carolina moved faster than almost anyone. On April 12, 1776, the Halifax Resolves authorized its delegates in Congress to support independence, the first formal authorization from any colony. Hooper had helped get it there, a Massachusetts-born lawyer who had once defended North Carolina's colonial government against internal rebellion, now helping that same colony become the first to push for a break with Britain.

The other signer worth knowing from this blog is Lyman Hall, who reached Philadelphia by an even stranger route. Hall was a Connecticut Yankee, Yale educated, originally trained as a Congregational minister before switching to medicine, who ended up in the Midway district of coastal Georgia as part of a transplanted New England community. Georgia was one of the most hesitant colonies, economically dependent on Britain and genuinely vulnerable. When the First Continental Congress met in 1774, Georgia sent nobody. But St. John's Parish, where Hall lived, wanted in anyway. They selected Hall to represent them in Philadelphia before Georgia itself had agreed to be represented. He showed up to Congress as the delegate of one parish inside a colony that hadn't officially joined the movement yet. Georgia eventually caught up. After the Revolution, St. John's Parish was renamed Liberty County in recognition of how far ahead of everyone else it had been.

Both men paid for their signatures after the fact. When the war moved south, British forces damaged Hooper's property near Wilmington and burned one of his houses. His family was forced inland during the British occupation of 1781. Hall lost his property when the British captured Savannah in 1778 and spent years displaced before returning to Georgia, where he was eventually elected governor.

The full story of both men is on the Virtual Wayback blog and there's a video on the YouTube channel going deeper. You can also talk directly with Hooper and Hall on Virtual Wayback.

What I keep coming back to is the Regulator episode. Hooper got dragged through the streets for defending the wrong government, then spent the next few years figuring out which government actually deserved defending. Does that make him more credible as a revolutionary than someone who had been against Britain from the start? And is there an argument that the people he opposed in 1770, the backcountry farmers protesting a corrupt system, had a better case for rebellion than the colonial elites who eventually declared independence?

Watch full video in Youtube

Most accounts of the Battle of Long Island focus on the tactical mistakes or the daring night crossing itself, but looking at the actual logs and diaries from August 27–30, 1776, the physical mechanics of the escape come down to three specific weather events:

- A two-day Nor'easter that physically trapped British square-rigged warships in the lower bay from sailing up the East River.

- An 11:00 PM wind shift to the southwest, which let John Glover’s Marblehead fishermen raise sails on their flatboats instead of rowing against heavy current all night.

- A heavy, localized dawn fog that sat right over the East River and ferry landing while the British encampment just a few hundred yards away was under clear skies.

4th Pennsylvania regiment.

Heres a drawing of mine showing the 4th PA as they would have looked at crown point 1776. One is a regular line infantry soldier looking at the Pennsylvania rifle of a riflemen of churches rifle company, identified by their leather caps

Harry Washington had already tried to escape Mount Vernon once before the Revolution started. George Washington hired a professional slave catcher to track him down and bring him back. What happened to Harry after that wasn't recorded in detail, but people who attempted escape and were recaptured generally faced severe punishment, sale away from their families, or harsher working conditions. The records don't say. The system didn't require explanation.

In 1776, when British forces entered Virginia and Lord Dunmore issued his proclamation promising freedom to enslaved people who escaped Patriot masters and joined the Crown, Harry Washington made his decision. He already knew what it meant to be caught. He had lived it. He ran anyway.

He joined the Ethiopian Regiment and later the Black Company of Pioneers, units of Black Loyalists supporting British operations. When the British lost the war, the peace negotiations included clauses demanding the return of property, including people. British commander Guy Carleton refused to comply and organized an evacuation that allowed thousands of formerly enslaved people who had served with the British to leave rather than be returned to bondage. Their names were recorded in the Book of Negroes, a ledger documenting roughly 3,000 people. Harry Washington was on that list.

He ended up in Birchtown, Nova Scotia, which became the largest free Black community in North America at the time. The conditions were brutal. Poor land, scarce resources, persistent discrimination. In 1792 he left with over a thousand Black Loyalists to help found Freetown in Sierra Leone, looking for something closer to actual autonomy. British colonial governance created new conflicts almost immediately. Around 1800, Harry Washington led a local reform movement asserting the rights of Black settlers. British authorities suppressed it and exiled him to the Bullom Shore, where he died within a few years.

On the Patriot side, James Armistead was born enslaved in Virginia and in 1781 obtained permission from his owner to join the Continental forces under the Marquis de Lafayette. Lafayette assigned him as a spy, posing as a runaway slave sympathetic to the British cause. He penetrated deep enough to gain direct access to the headquarters of General Cornwallis. The intelligence he delivered was critical to the Siege of Yorktown, the battle that effectively ended the war.

When the war ended, he was returned to slavery. A 1783 Virginia law granted freedom to enslaved people who had served as soldiers, but Armistead had served as an intelligence operative, not an enlisted man, and the law didn't cover him. He spent years petitioning the Virginia legislature. Lafayette, the same general who had recruited him, eventually wrote a letter attesting to his service. The legislature granted him manumission in 1787. He bought land, raised a family, and took Lafayette's name as his own. James Armistead Lafayette lived out his life in Virginia as a free man in a country where slavery remained the law for millions of others.

Two men. Two completely different calculations about which side of the Revolution was more likely to offer something resembling freedom. Neither side was committed to abolition. The Patriots because many of their most important leaders were slaveholders who had no intention of applying the Declaration's language universally. The British because the promise of freedom was a military tactic, not a moral position, and slavery remained legal throughout much of the empire. Armistead bet on ideals the Patriots declared but didn't apply. Harry Washington bet on a concrete promise the British offered but didn't fully keep.

The difference in their outcomes wasn't really about which side was more just. It was about geography, timing, and what specific risks each man was willing to take based on what he had already experienced.

You can read the full story on the Virtual Wayback blog and talk directly with both James Armistead Lafayette and Harry Washington on the platform. Link in the comment

What stays with me is the detail that Harry Washington already knew what being recaptured felt like. That second escape wasn't an impulse. It was a decision made by someone who had seen exactly what waited for him if he failed and chose to run anyway. Does that change how you think about the "founding fathers who risked everything" narrative? And is there a serious argument that Harry Washington's story is more central to what the American Revolution actually was than the story of most of the 56 signers?

Took some work, but got this mechanically ready. It had been leaning against some fireplace in my family for at least a century and nobody knew anything about it or where it came from. I still have the original hammer, but got a reproduction along with top jaw and screw from Pedersoli - not going to try and thread the new screw into a 200+ year old hammer. Repro rod too, but it will not fit in the musket. If anybody know of a stash of original parts, hollar at me... would at least like a rod and bayonet that are period...and anything else that I am missing.

Had to put the file to the seer a bit on a tip from a local gunsmith - now will hold in both positions. I guess that this was common as they wore? Got a replacement from Pedersoli, but it is not even close to the right size, so not usable for me.

Time for some a flint and some powder for a few blank fires. Need a cleaning rod and kit too if anybody has any recommendations. Probably never put a projectile in it, but I do want it to at least fire some powder out of it once or twice since it is important to me that it can work, if possible. Had the barrel cleared by a gunsmith and it was full of rags, linen about two inches deep.

If anybody knows what the P1 means on the rear of the lock, then let me know. Somebody told me 1st Pennsylvania, but seemed only about 50/50 on it. Also, if there are any resources for dates with the codes on the lock, then I would also like to read or study them.

This has been a fun project... and it takes a while to get parts from Italy like they sailed them over here on a ship with actual cloth sails. Thanks to anybody who has helped me with past posts.

On May 21, 1776, the Maryland Convention voted unanimously to forbid its delegates in Congress from supporting independence. Not reluctantly. Not narrowly. Unanimously.

On June 28, the same body voted unanimously to authorize independence, confederation, and foreign alliances.

That six-week reversal is one of the stranger and more revealing moments of the entire founding period, and it happened because three very different men were pulling Maryland in the same direction through completely different means.

Samuel Chase was the one pushing hardest. He was already known as a combative lawyer who had spent years fighting British policy and Maryland's proprietary establishment alongside William Paca. By spring 1776 he had run out of patience with a political position that resisted British authority while refusing to admit that the imperial relationship was already collapsing. When he came back from Congress's failed mission to Canada with Franklin, he turned his energy toward Maryland politics directly. He didn't just argue for independence in Philadelphia while his instructions prohibited him from voting for it. He went home and worked to change the instructions. He pressed county leaders, encouraged local communities that were already ahead of the provincial leadership, and pushed until the Convention moved.

William Paca was Chase's longtime partner and political opposite in temperament. Same city, same profession, same years fighting the Stamp Act together, completely different style. Chase was confrontational. Paca was methodical. His contribution wasn't the dramatic push of June 1776. It was the decade of committee work, political organizing, and institution building that created the revolutionary infrastructure capable of carrying Maryland into independence when the moment came. Without the network Paca helped build, Chase would have had nobody to push.

Thomas Stone is the most interesting of the three because he was the one who wasn't sure.

Stone wasn't a Loyalist, wasn't afraid of the British, and had already committed himself to the revolutionary cause. His hesitation was practical and not unreasonable. He worried that declaring independence too quickly, before the colonies had genuine unity or foreign support secured, might weaken the American position rather than strengthen it. What happens after you declare? What government replaces British authority? Will the colonies hold together through a long war? What if independence ends the possibility of negotiation before you're actually prepared for what comes next?

Those aren't coward's questions. They're the right questions. Stone just became convinced by late June that circumstances had already answered most of them. Britain was building toward a major military campaign, every attempt at reconciliation had produced nothing, and Maryland's proprietary government was dissolving on its own whether the Convention acknowledged it or not. The royal governor left the province on June 26. Two days later the Convention reversed its instructions.

The unanimity of that reversal is worth sitting with. This wasn't a narrow faction finally overpowering a resistant majority. Six weeks earlier the same body had unanimously said no. Now it unanimously said yes. That kind of shift only happens when political opinion across an entire province has genuinely moved, not when one side finally beats the other.

There's a fourth signer worth mentioning: Charles Carroll of Carrollton, one of the wealthiest men in Maryland and a Catholic at a time when Catholics faced legal restrictions on participation in Maryland politics. His emergence as a leading Patriot figure and eventual signer is its own story about how the Revolution was already reshaping who counted as a political actor before independence was even declared.

And then there's Robert Alexander, who served in Maryland's revolutionary institutions and in Congress, and after independence became a Loyalist exile. He's a useful reminder that going along with resistance to British policy didn't mean every man had decided where he stood on the final question. Independence forced a clarity that earlier resistance had allowed people to avoid.

You can read the full story on the Virtual Wayback blog and watch the conversations with each of the Maryland signers on the YouTube channel. You can also talk directly with Chase, Paca, and Stone on Virtual Wayback.

The thing I keep coming back to is Stone. Chase gets the credit for forcing the question and Paca gets credit for building the movement. But Stone represents something arguably more important to how the decision actually held: the cautious Patriots whose eventual yes gave independence a legitimacy it couldn't have had if only the firebrands supported it. Does a unanimous vote mean more when you know the skeptics came around on their own terms? And is there a version of this where Stone's slow conversion was actually the most important one?

My father found this in a creek while camping sometime around 1950. The location was just below Rochester, NY. A kitchen magnet will stick to it, and it weighs 2 lbs, 6.5 ozs. It is not completely round (sorta lopsided in places) and has a small indentation on one side. Could it be a cannon ball from the War of 1812?

As we mark the 246th anniversary of the Battle of Hanging Rock, one of the few Patriot victories of the summer of 1780, we get to celebrate another victory. Thanks to the support of our members, the Trust has just saved 160 acres of hallowed ground at Hanging Rock!

This precious battlefield sits not far from the rapidly expanding metropolitan area in Charlotte, N.C., which is why the National Trust for Historic Preservation named Hanging Rock Battlefield one of the 11 Most Endangered Historic Places in America earlier this year.

These acres of hallowed ground were at risk of being lost to development forever. Instead, generations to come will be able to visit Hanging Rock and learn the crucial role this battle played in our fight for independence.

On August 2, 1776, four New York delegates put their names on the Declaration in Philadelphia. The British army had already been camped on Staten Island for a month. Everyone in that room understood that New York was the primary target and that signing meant putting their names on a document Britain considered treason while an invasion fleet sat in the harbor.

What makes these four interesting isn't the generic "they risked everything" narrative. It's that they lived in four completely different places around New York, and the invasion hit each of them differently.

Philip Livingston's country estate was in Brooklyn Heights, directly overlooking the harbor and sitting right next to Washington's defensive position. He also had a townhouse in Manhattan. Both were in the exact area Britain intended to capture and hold permanently. Less than three weeks after he signed, the British crossed from Staten Island and defeated the Continental Army at the Battle of Long Island. Washington and his officers reportedly met at Livingston's Brooklyn house to plan the evacuation. The army escaped across the East River at night. Livingston's property stayed behind. The British turned his Brooklyn home into a Royal Navy hospital and his Manhattan residence into a barracks. His family fled, and he never saw a liberated New York. He died in 1778 while Congress was meeting in Pennsylvania.

Francis Lewis lived at Whitestone in Queens, on the northern shore of Long Island. His estate was farther from the initial landing area but became exposed once Britain controlled the surrounding waterways. The British destroyed the property. More importantly, they captured his wife Elizabeth and held her as a prisoner. She was eventually exchanged but the conditions of her captivity damaged her health permanently and she died in 1779. Elizabeth Lewis didn't sign anything. She paid for her husband's signature anyway.

Lewis Morris owned Morrisania, a large manor estate north of Manhattan in what is now the Bronx. Once the British occupied the city, his land sat near the contested boundary between occupied territory and the countryside beyond it. British forces, Loyalist units, and Continental troops all moved through that area for years. The manor house was looted, crops destroyed, fences burned, livestock taken or killed. Morris spent years after the war just trying to restore what had been there before.

William Floyd lived the farthest away, at Mastic on the eastern end of Long Island, nearly seventy miles from the main British encampments. That distance turned out to mean almost nothing. Once Washington withdrew from Brooklyn there was no American force between the British occupation zone and the communities farther east. Floyd's wife Hannah fled with their children to Connecticut. British troops occupied the estate for years. Hannah died in Connecticut in 1781 before the family could go home. Floyd finally came back in 1783 to a property that needed to be rebuilt from the ground up. He was the longest-lived of the four, dying in 1821.

Four signatures. Four different losses shaped entirely by geography.

There's another layer to this that the blog doesn't let sit quietly in a footnote. All four of these men enslaved people. Floyd and Morris ran agricultural estates worked by enslaved laborers. Livingston's commercial career included direct investment in the slave trade. Lewis operated within an Atlantic economy built on it. The Declaration they signed asserted that legitimate government rested on natural rights and consent. The people working their land had no vote in Congress, no say in the decision, and no share in the liberty being claimed on their behalf. For some of them, the British occupation represented something different than it did for their owners: a possible route out, since British commanders had offered freedom to enslaved people who escaped Patriot households and aided the Crown.

The full story of all four men, what they lost and what their households looked like, is on the Virtual Wayback blog. You can also talk directly to them on Virtual Wayback and hear how they understood what they were risking when they signed. Links down below.

The question I keep sitting with is Elizabeth Lewis. She didn't sign, didn't vote, didn't have a seat at any table, and still ended up a prisoner of war who died from the consequences of her captivity. How do you weigh that against the "brave signers who risked everything" framing? And does knowing that enslaved people on these estates sometimes saw the British side as the path to freedom change how you read what was actually at stake on August 2nd?

There is more to the quote. Read the letter: https://thomaspaine.org/letters/to-henry-laurens-spring-1778/