A repeat post. Given the popularity of the musical Hamilton and Hamilton’s death in a duel, I thought it would be interesting to repeat this post on the development of a code of honor in America that supported dueling.

Facing the British, when the fighting began in Boston in 1775, were eager American volunteer militias. If they had survived the first battles, the volunteers often went home after their terms of six months or one year had expired. Recruiting new soldiers for the war’s duration was a constant worry for General Washington, the lack of responsible officers was another. America did not have a military culture, as Great Britain and many European nations did. To distinguish the wheat from the chaff, American officers, many from elite families, viewed themselves as “gentlemen” and espoused a code of honor to be defended at all costs.

Janet Livingston Montgomery knew the costs of the War. Her beloved husband of two and a half years, General Richard Montgomery, had given his life for the American cause attempting to capture Québec (31 December 1775). She mourned him the rest of her long life. On 6 September 1780, she wrote, somewhat dryly, to her cousin Sarah Livingston Jay about how some American officers met their fates.

Dr Cosin. …
[Y]esterday we where inform’d from Camp: of the Death of your Cosin William Alexander Livingston who received his Death from a Mr Steaks in a Duel—also was buried at the same time, in like circumstances a Mr Peyton, from Virginia—you may judg how fashionable dueling is grown, when we had had five in one week and one of them so singular that I cannot forbear mentioning it—it haptend between two Frenchmen who where to stand a certain distance and marching up: where to fire when they pleas’d one fired and miss’d the other reserving his; till he had placed his Pistol on his Antagonist forehead—who had just time to say Oh mon Dieu, pardonne moy at the same time bowing—whilst the Pistol went off and did no other Mischief but singe a few of his hairs. … dueling is a very foolish way of putting ones self out of the world. …
I am with Much esteem yours— J. Montgomery

The characteristics of dueling pistols were standardized in 1777: “a 9 or 10 inch barreled, smooth bore flintlock of 1 inch bore, carrying a ball of 48 to the pound.” Dueling pistols were often elaborately decorated. The pair shown (1786), have ivory stocks and many decorative details. Dueling died out by the mid 1800s.

Letter at Columbia University, Butler Library, Rare Book & Manuscript Division, The Papers of John Jay, Jay ID: 06951.

I am taking a short respite, until March 31. This post and the next one are repeats: timely and interesting.
March 17, just past, was St. Patrick’s Day, but in Boston it is often called Evacuation Day, because it was on that day in 1776 that the British, having been besieged by the patriots for many months, withdrew their occupying forces from that city. Many Loyalists left with them. It is said that Bostonians sang this song as they departed: “The Tories with their brats and wives/Should fly to save their wretched lives.” Abigail Adams wrote to her husband in Philadelphia:

Sunday Noon [Braintree 17 March 1776]Being quite Sick with a voilent cold I have tarried at Home to day; I find the fireing was occasiond by our peoples taking possession of Nook Hill, which they kept in spite of the Cannonade, & which has really obliged our Enemy to decamp this morning on board the Transports; as I hear by a mesenger just come from Head Quarters. Some of the Select Men have been to the lines & inform that they have carried off [every] thing they could possibly take, & what they could not they have [missing] . . . many articles of good Household furniture having in the course of the week come on shore at Great Hill [Hough’s Neck], both upon this & Weymouth Side, Lids of Desks, mahogona chairs, tables &c. Our People I hear will have Liberty to enter Boston, those who have had the Small pox. The Enemy have not yet come under Sail, I cannot help suspecting some design which we do not yet comprehend; to what quarter of the World they are bound is wholy unknown, but tis generally Thought to New york. Many people are Elated with their quitting Boston, I confess I do not feel so, tis only lifting the burden from one shoulder to the other which perhaps is less able or less willing to support it. To what a contemptable situation are the Troops of Britain reduced! I feel glad however that Boston is not distroyed. I hope it will be so secured & guarded as to baffel all future attemps against it—I hear that General Howe said upon going upon some Eminence in Town to view our Troops who had taken Dorchester Hill unperceived by them till Sun rise, “My God these fellows have done more work in one Night than I could make my Army do in three months” & he might well say so for in one Night two forts & long Breast Works were sprung up besides several Barracks. 300 & 70 teems were imployed most of which went 3 load in the Night, beside 4000 men who worked with good Hearts.

Monday morning
A fine quiet night no allarms no Cannon. The more I think of our Enemies quitting Boston, the more amaz’d I am, that they should leave such a harbour, such fortifications, such intrenchments, and that we should be in peaceable possession of a Town which we expected would cost us a river of Blood without any Drop shed. Shurely it is the Lords doings & it is Marvelous in our Eyes. Every foot of Ground which they obtain now they must fight for.

Abigail’s letter can be found on page 42-43 of In the Words of Women.

HANNAH ADAMS, one of the first professional writers in the United States, who has been the subject of the last several posts, had concerns about providing for her declining years, especially since her eyes were failing. Her fears were alleviated by the largesse of friends who settled an annuity on her. She was also gratified by the opportunity, afforded her by a friend, to use the library at the Boston Athenaeum.

Amidst that large and valuable collection of books, I found an inexhaustible source of information and entertainment: and among other advantages, I found a few literary friends, in whose conversation I enjoyed ‘the feast of reason and the flow of soul.’

Hannah Adams’ short memoir is followed by “Additional Notices by a Friend,” that friend being Mrs. H.F.S. Lee. It was noted by Mrs. Lee that Hannah had the “very uncommon faculty . . . of comprehending, and making her own, the information a book contained. . . ” Another person noted this ability. Hannah received an invitation

to pass a week or two at . . . President Adams’s. at Quincy, with the offer of his library as an inducement to accept the invitation. He was much struck with the rapidity with which she went through folios of the venerable Fathers; and made some pleasant remarks in consequence, which induced her to speak of their contents. He then found, that, while she had been turning over leaf after leaf, she had been culling all that could be useful in her labors.

Hannah Adams dedicated her book View of Religions to John Adams. The two corresponded; in one of Adams’ letters to her he remarked:

You and I are undoubtedly related by birth; and although we were both “born in humble obscurity,” yet I presume neither of us have any cause to regret that circumstance. If I could ever suppose that family pride was in any case excusable, I should think a descent from a line of virtuous, independent New England farmers, for one hundred and sixty years, was a better foundation for it, than a descent through royal or titled scoundrels ever since the flood.

Hannah Adams died in November 1831 at the age of seventy-six.

A Memoir of Miss Hannah Adams 1755-1831 (Boston: Grey and Bowen, 1832), pp 38, 73-74, 90.

As writer and historian HANNAH ADAMS says in her Memoir “It was poverty, not ambition, or vanity, that first induced me to become an author, or rather a compiler. But I now formed the flattering idea, that I might not only help myself, but benefit the public.” She set out to write a history of New England.

I selected this subject, rather from public utility, than for my own gratification. My object was to render my compilation useful to those in early life, who had not time or opportunity to peruse the large mass of materials, which . . . lay scattered in many publications. I knew my work would require much reading upon dry subjects, such as ancient news prints, state papers, &c. But I wrote for bare subsistence, and never wished to gain anything from the pubic which I had not at least earned by laborious investigation. I also considered, that attention to such an antipoetical subject would have a tendency to keep my mind in a more healthy state, than the perusal of works which are calculated to excite the feelings.

Hannah did extensive research, examining records and old manuscripts, traveling to cities where they were housed. She drove herself hard, writing early and late during one winter. She found that her eyesight began to fail suddenly and she was obliged to stop work. She consulted several doctors.

The gloomy apprehension of being totally deprived of my sight was distressing beyond description. I not only anticipated the misfortune of being obliged forever to relinquish those literary pursuits which had constituted so much of my enjoyment during life, and was at this time my only resource for a subsistence. . . . At length, by the advice of a respectable friend, I applied to Dr. Jeffries; and by assiduously following his prescription for about two years, I partially recovered my sight. For the encouragement of those who are troubled with similar complaints, I would mention, that when I first consulted the doctor, he had not any expectation my eyes would recover so as to enable me to make the use of them I have since done. But by applying laudanum and sea water several times in the course of a day, for two years, I recovered so far as to resume my studies; and by employing an amanuensis to assist me in transcribing my manuscript, I was enabled to print the work in 1799.

Hannah was careful in her work to give credit where it was due.

Preciously to putting the copy to the press, I consulted all the living authors, and showed them the use I had made of their works in my compilation, and they did not make any objection. As my eyes were still weak, I could not bestow the same attention in condensing the last part of my History, as the first; and consequently the History of the American Revoluton was much more prolix than I originally intended. In giving an account of the war, my ignorance of military terms rendered it necessary to transcribe more from Dr. [David] Ramsay’s History, that I had done in any other part of the work. I therefore wrote an apology to the doctor, and had the satisfaction of receiving in return a very interesting letter from Mrs. Ramsay, expressing her approbation of my work, and inclosing a bill of ten dollars.

Although she had intended to solicit subscriptions to defray the cost of printing. the problem with her eyes prevented her from doing so. She had to publish the work entirely at her own expense.

A Memoir of Miss Hannah Adams 1755-1831 (Boston: Grey and Bowen, 1832), pp 22-27.

In her Memoir, HANNAH ADAMS discussed other influences on her life and education. After her mother and a beloved aunt died, and her father’s failure in trade, she described what her life was like and how she found ways to expand her knowledge despite her lack of means.

My life passed in seclusion, with gloomy prospects before me, and surrounded with various perplexities from which I could not extricate myself. The solitude in which I lived was, however, to me preferable to society in general; and to that, and to my natural singularity, I must impute the awkwardness of manners, of which I never could divest myself at an advanced period of life. A consciousness of this awkwardness produced a dislike to the company of strangers. those who have been accustomed to general society when young, can scarcely imagine the trembling timidity I felt, when introduced to my superiors in circumstances and education. I, however, enjoyed society upon a small scale. I had a few dear friends (for novels had taught me to be very romantic,) who were chiefly in indigent circumstances, and like myself had imbibed a taste for reading, and were particularly fond of poetry and novels. Most of them wrote verses, which were read and admired by the whole little circle. Our mutual love of literature, want of fortune, and indifference to the society of those whose minds were wholly uncultivated, served to cement a union between us, which was interrupted only by the removal of parties to distant places, and dissolved only by their death. . . .
Still, however, I was blessed with a sister of similar tastes and sentiments, but very different in her disposition. I was warm and irritable in my temper; she, placid and even. I was fluctuating and undecided: she, steady and judicious. I was extremely timid; she blended softness with courage and fortitude. I was inclined to be melancholy, though sometimes in high spirits; she was uniformly serene and cheerful. I placed the strongest reliance upon her judgment, and as she was older than myself, she seemed the maternal friend as well as the best of sisters. In short,”she was my guide, my friend, my earthly all.
As I was too feeble to engage in any laborious employments, I found considerable leisure for reading; and as my happiness chiefly consisted in literary pursuits, I was very desirous of learning the rudiments of Latin, Greek, geography, and logic. Some gentlemen who boarded at my father’s offered to instruct me in these branches of learning gratis, and I pursued these studies with indescribable pleasure and avidity. I still, however, sensibly felt the want of a more systemic education. . . . Yet as I always read with great rapidity, perhaps few of my sex have perused more books at the age of twenty than I had. Yet my reading was very desultory, and novels engaged too much of my attention. Though my seclusion from the world preserved me from many temptations which are incident to young people, I was perhaps more exposed to errors of the understanding, than those who in early life have mixed more with the world. . . .

A Memoir of Miss Hannah Adams 1755-1831 (Boston: Grey and Bowen, 1832), pp 6-9.