Remarkable Charlestonians in the American Revolution

 

The Death of Major Pierson by John Singleton Copley, 1782. Tate Britain 

The American Revolution was a struggle for liberty, but not in the uncomplicated way we learned in school, or by watching Mel Gibson' film, The Patriot. The traditional story holds that Patriots fought to free themselves from arbitrary taxation by an allegedly tyrannical king, George III. What is often left out is that supporters of the British government also fought for liberty. People on both sides viewed their actions as patriotic, even if they were sometimes self-serving. Enslaved blacks fought to free themselves from slavery. The War for Independence in the southern colonies was also in part a war to to preserve slavery. Slaveholders feared that an arbitrary British government might grant their slaves freedom after Lord Mansfield declared slavery illegal in English law in 1773. In that sense the Revolution had more in common with the later Civil War than is generally acknowledged. 

Charleston, South Carolina is famous as the place where the American Civil War began. Less well known is its significant role in an earlier civil war. For South Carolina, the American War for Independence was more truly a civil war than the conflict of 1861-1865. During the 1860s, South Carolinians were united in defence of their state. During the Revolutionary War, they were bitterly divided. South Carolina witnessed some of the most violent episodes of the conflict.

Remarkable Charlestonians in the American Revolution relates the stories of a spectrum of the city's residents during this turbulent time. Its subjects were famous, obscure, rich, poor, black, white, men and women. Some supported the "Patriot" cause; others were loyal to the British crown, or tried to remain neutral. A few switched sides, one more than once. Collectively, their experiences highlight the often grim reality of the revolutionary era. 

The public memory of the American Revolution is encrusted with layers of convenient forgetfulness, dubious facts, distorted legends, and outright myths. History, as Sir Lewis Namier wrote, is not a visit of condolence. Nor should it be. This book seeks to portray the complexity of a chaotic, turbulent, and fascinating time. Its pages provide, I hope, a nuanced sense of what it was like to live in Charleston during the American War for  Independence, 250 years ago. It also, I believe, sheds light on the situation in the USA today. 

The premise of Remarkable Charlestonians is that people on both sides of the War for Independence fought for liberty, although with a different sense of what liberty meant. The majority black population wanted to rid themselves of enslavement, and many joined the British, who promised them freedom. Many white Loyalists believed that the British government was the best protector of "the rights of Englishmen" against what they saw as mob rule. White revolutionaries (Patriots) opposed what they perceived as the arbitrary actions of the British government. One of the things they feared and fought to prevent was the possibility that an overpowerful Parliament would declare slavery illegal in the colonies. 

If you are convinced that Mel Gibson portrayed the Revolution correctly in "The Patriot" this book may not be your cup of tea. (Pun intended).

For more information, visit Remarkable Charlestonians in the American Revolution – Arcadia Publishing $24.95 

Available at all good bookstores -- and even some bad ones.

The American Revolution Revisited: A War Between History and Memory

The 250th anniversary of the American Revolution and War for Independence is nearly upon us. It is destined to reach new heights of commercialism, with beer companies no doubt leading the pack. Corny commemorations and tall tales will all be a part of the celebration. Will there be room for calm reflection on the events of 1775-1783? Not much, I fear, especially in the Age of Trump and MAGA. In the best of times, dispassionate analysis of great events tends to be in short supply, overwhelmed and marginalized by the popular taste for hoopla. On this occasion calm analysis is likely to be obliterated by the Trumpets of MAGA. 

The revolution will be celebrated as a great victory for liberty and equality. It was, though more in the rhetoric of the Declaration of Independence than anything in reality. Awkwardly, it was also a war to preserve slavery. 

In 1773, British judge Lord Mansfield declared in the Somerset Case that slavery had no basis in English law. The Somerset ruling aroused panic among some slaveholders, mostly in the southern colonies. It helped unite them with the northern colonies, where the rallying cry was the more historically palatable "no taxation without representation." Traditional narratives of the revolution have tended to emphasize Britain's attacks on colonial liberty while ignoring the colonist's denial of liberty to the enslaved. 

Alarmed slaveholders denied the right of Parliament to pass laws affecting the internal or domestic affairs of the colonies. Slavery, they argued, was a domestic American issue. In 1775, on the verge of war, they accused the British of plotting slave revolts and Indian attacks as a means of subduing the rebellious colonies. In 1776, they decided that independence was necessary to prevent emancipation and loss of control over enslaved Blacks. 

In that sense the War for Independence had more in common with the Civil War than is generally acknowledged. Looked at from the perspective of the enslaved population, both were wars for liberty. Many Blacks absorbed the rhetoric of their white masters and saw the Revolutionary War as an opportunity to secure their freedom, by joining the British. Historians estimate that around 100,000 enslaved persons ran off to British lines between 1775 and 1783, 25,000 in South Carolina alone. They were not complacent bystanders, but active participants in the struggles that gave birth to a nation. 

History is often unpleasant, messy, and chaotic. It is seldom as simple as we would like it to be. Historical myth is the opposite: neat, generally pleasing -- at least to our prejudices -- and comfortably black and white. The myths are "alternative facts" or "fake history." Not surprisingly, myths tend to dominate if not smother actual history in the popular consciousness, the "public memory." By "actual history" I do not mean the "truth" but the result of painstaking historical research, writing, and interpretation. If well done, the result is our best current approximation of the truth. In that sense, history resembles science. Science is a more exact business, of course. Scientists can use repeated experiments to confirm their hypotheses. Historians do not have that luxury. They cannot repeat history. In most cases, they would not wish to. 

Historian Lewis Namier wrote that the writing of history "is not a visit of condolence." He might have added that the same is true of reading it. Learning our history is often difficult, troubling and confusing. If it never is, we are reading the wrong stuff. Some people avoid the problem by ignoring history, just as others avoid ethical problems by ignoring philosophy. Henry Ford is alleged to have said that "history is bunk." Apparently, he didn't say exactly that, but he did reject the past as dead and meaningless, not worth bothering about. 

Abraham Lincoln disagreed with Ford. In his Second Inaugural Address he declared, "My Fellow Americans, we cannot escape history." He understood that the terrible war nearing its end was the result of the country's failure to abolish slavery early in its history. Novelist William Faulkner held a similar view: "The past isn't dead. It is not even past." His characters are prisoners of their history, in this case the history of the Deep South. 

Karl Marx wrote in much the same vein in The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte (1852): "The tradition of all dead generations weighs like a nightmare on the brains of the living." Marx prefaced that statement with "Men make their own history, but they do not make it as they please; they do not make it under self-selected circumstances, but under circumstances existing already, given and transmitted from the past." One does not have to be a Marxist to agree with that statement. Our history, like our biology, constrains us, for good or ill.

Peter McCandless, REMARKABLE CHARLESTONIANS IN THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION (Arcadia, The History Press, 2025)

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The Execution of Isaac Hayne: Charleston, South Carolina, August 1781

During the American War for Independence, both sides executed enemy soldiers and civilians. Some were found guilty of spying or treason after a trial, although the “trial” was often pro forma. For many others a trial was dispensed with. 

After the Battle of King’s Mountain in October 1780, the victorious Patriots shot dead many of the defeated Loyalists after they had surrendered. King’s Mountain was part of a broader pattern of tit for tat executions that plagued the backcountry of South Carolina, especially during the British occupation of 1780-1782. 

Patriot Paddy Carr slaughtered every Loyalist he could lay his hands on, refusing quarter to those who surrendered. Loyalist “Bloody Bill” Cunningham became infamous for butchering patriots and their families. Both sides murdered "enemies" in their beds. 

Patriots executed without trial Blacks alleged to have aided or joined the British enemy. Governor John Rutledge ordered partisan leaders Thomas Sumter and Francis Marion to hang “renegade Negroes.”      

Most of the victims of these war crimes, for that is what they were, were anonymous, or just names. Only a few of them are etched in our historical memory because their stories have been told again and again. 

We remember Nathan Hale, who the British executed as a spy in 1776. Why? Because of his supposed last words: “I regret that I have but one life to give for my country." Powerful stuff, even if not true. 

Isaac Hayne is not as well-known as Hale, but he was the most famous person to be hanged in the South during the war. A painting of Hayne being led to his execution is displayed in the Old Exchange and Provost Dungeon on East Bay Street in Charleston, where he was imprisoned in the summer of 1782. 

The British hanged Hayne on a charge of treason, which he vigorously denied. How he got into that situation is convoluted. Hayne had inherited several plantations south of Charleston, mainly near Jacksonborough. He had a reputation as an excellent breeder of horses. He served as a cavalry officer in the patriot militia. 

After the fall of Charleston in 1780, the British paroled Hayne and others in the militia. He returned home. That summer and autumn smallpox spread across the state. One of his children died of it, and his wife and two other children became infected. He rode to Charleston to seek medical help. 

He had not wanted to come. The victorious British commander, Sir Henry Clinton, had issued a proclamation requiring the paroled militia to swear allegiance to the Crown. While Hayne was in Charleston, the British town commandant, Colonel Paterson, convinced him to take the oath. 

Paterson assured him, he later claimed, that he would not be required to take up arms against his former comrades. Hayne signed and went home. His other children survived but his wife died from smallpox. 

After Patriots regained control of most of the state in 1781, Hayne believed, or claimed, that he no longer owed allegiance to the invaders. He joined the partisans. In July 1781 he took part in a partisan raid on the plantation of Andrew Williamson. They kidnaped (or rescued) Williamson, a former Patriot general who had defected to the British after the fall of Charleston. 

A British detachment led by major Archibald Campbell intercepted the kidnapers and rescued Williamson. Campbell captured Hayne and took him back to Charleston as a prisoner. The commandant of Charleston was no longer Paterson, but Colonel Nisbet Balfour. He ordered Hayne to be imprisoned in the Provost Dungeon, the bottom floor of the Exchange Building. Balfour charged him with treason for having violated his oath of loyalty to the king. 

Hayne expected to receive a trial but Balfour and the commanding general in South Carolina, Lord Rawdon, declared him guilty and sentenced him to hang. For months, Balfour had been placing warnings in the newspapers that militia who had taken parole and signed the oath of allegiance would be liable to treason charges if they rejoined the Patriots. 

Balfour had hoped it would stem a rising tide of defections to the partisan bands. The warnings failed to bring about the desired result. He and his superior, General Lord Rawdon, decided to make an example of someone to deter others. [Image: Francis, Lord Rawdon]

The British commanders had another likely motive, one common in war: revenge. The previous October, patriots in New York had captured Major John Andre. He was returning to British lines after a secret meeting with Benedict Arnold, to arrange Arnold's switch to the British side. Because he was caught wearing civilian clothes, the Patriots charged Andre as a spy, which meant he had no right to a trial. They hanged him at Tappan, New York, a few days later, with the approval of George Washington. 

Andre was a talented and popular officer, and his execution outraged many of his comrades. Balfour had been his close friend, and Rawdon had helped him to prepare for his position. 

Many people in Charleston protested the sentence on Hayne and urged Balfour and Rawdon to reconsider the verdict. Those who pleaded for Hayne’s life included several prominent Loyalists, including William Bull, the former royal lieutenant governor. 

Women from both sides of the political divide came to beg for mercy. The sister of Hayne’s deceased wife brought his two surviving children to see Rawdon and Balfour. They begged for mercy on their knees. British officers also petitioned for to save Hayne, including the one who had captured him. Rawdon refused to change the sentence. His only concession was to allow Hayne a stay of a few days to visit with his children. 

At dawn on August 4 Hayne’s captors led him out of the Provost Dungeon. Several hundred soldiers escorted him to the place of execution at Boundary Street (now Calhoun Street), close to the present-day College of Charleston.

Hayne’s execution made him a martyr to the Patriot cause in South Carolina and a figure in Southern folklore, celebrated in story and song. Unlike Nathan Hale, he was largely forgotten in the annals of American history, probably due to the sectional conflict that led to the Civil War. Growing up in Chicago in the '50s and '60s, I heard about Hale but not Hayne. 

Almost immediately after the execution, Rawdon returned to Britain.  Fear of retaliation for Hayne’s execution may have sped up his departure. He arrived home to find that the execution was being criticized even in Britain. The Duke of Richmond, an opponent of the American war, moved to censure Rawdon’s conduct in the House of Lords. 

Although Richmond's motion lost by a large majority, Rawdon demanded the duke make an apology or meet on the field of honor. A duel was narrowly avoided when Richmond issued an apology. Rawdon went on to become Governor-General of India and rack up several peerages, including Earl of Moira and Marquess of Hastings. 

In later years, Rawdon blamed Balfour for Hayne’s death. Both played a role in it, but it seems that Rawdon was the more determined to hang him. 

During Balfour’s time as commandant of Charleston, Hayne was the only Patriot to be executed. Rawdon had ordered many executions under his command in America, though mainly of army deserters. Balfour, who remained in Charleston after Rawdon’s departure, bore the brunt of local anger about Hayne’s execution. 

In March 1782, General Alexander Leslie, who replaced Rawdon as commander in South Carolina, wrote Sir Henry Clinton that Balfour’s situation in Charleston had become “very unpleasant” since Hayne’s execution. In August 1782 Balfour was transferred to New York. After the war, he went on to become a Major General.

Below are two illustrations purporting to be of executions that took place during the American War for Independence. The first allegedly records the execution of Major John Andre at Tappan, New York in October 1780. The second claims to portray the execution of Colonel Isaac Hayne in Charleston. 

The illustrations are almost identical, except for changes in the colors of the uniforms. Even the flags remain the same. It is likely that the artist or artists was not present at either execution. The artist of Hayne's hanging obviously copied the artist of Andre's. They were after all, copycat killings. 

Peter McCandless, Remarkable Charlestonians in the American Revolution. Charleston, SC: Arcadia Publishing, 2025.

David K. Bowden, The Execution of Isaac Hayne. Lexington, SC: The Sandlapper Store, 1977.

David Ramsay, The History of the Revolution in South Carolina. Trenton, NJ, 1785. 

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Adventures of a Black Loyalist: Scipio Handley

 

At the beginning of the American Revolution, Scipio Handley was a free black fisherman who plied his trade in Charleston Harbor. We know very little else about him. We do know he was involved in a number of events during the revolutionary era, and after the war applied for compensation to the Loyalist Claims Commission in London. The memorial he submitted to the Claims Commission provides the little we know about Handley. It is part of thousands of pages of documentation, memorials and testimony, that now survives in the UK National Archives at Kew.

After the last royal governor, Lord William Campbell, fled Charleston in September 1775, Handley used his boat to carry supplies to the Tamar and its crew. When Lady William (Sarah Izard) decided to flee to her husband’s side, Handley took her. He was taking a great risk. The Committee of Safety prohibited any boats from town going to the British ships without a pass. Handley avoided Patriot patrols by going at night when the moon was down or when it was cloudy. But one night a patrol intercepted him ferrying supplies. They arrested him. According to Henry Laurens, Arthur Middleton wanted to hang Handley, and most of the council agreed. Laurens agreed that he should be hanged if guilty, but only after a “proper” trial. Exactly what would have constituted a proper trial in the wake of the Thomas Jeremiah incident is worth pondering. We will never know. Handley escaped from captivity one night shortly before Christmas and disappeared. That same night, a Patriot force numbering around 200 and disguised as “Indian warriors” attacked a camp of runaways and Loyalists on Sullivan’s Island. The “Indians” killed about two dozen runaways and captured others, including a few Loyalists. The rest managed to escape to the British ships anchored nearby or to Morris Island on the other side of the harbor mouth. The victors destroyed the pest house on Sullivan’s Island, which the runaways had used as a shelter. It is likely that many of them had resided there once before, on their arrival from West Africa, to perform quarantine.  In the aftermath of the Patriot attack, Lord William sailed off to St. Augustine. He took some of the runaways and Loyalists with him.

Was Scipio Handley one of them? Had he fled to the island the night he escaped, just before the Patriot attack? We don’t know, but we do know that somehow, Handley made his way to Florida, along with other Blacks and Loyalists. Or so he said in his memorial. He claimed that in escaping he had to jump from a second story window, that he landed badly, and suffered a rupture. In severe pain, he made his way to the British in St. Augustine. From there, he went on to Barbados. He took up fishing again and remained there for the next three years. Whether the British offered him a position as an auxiliary during that time he did not say.  When the British captured Savannah in the last days of 1778, they recruited him to work for their army as a Black Pioneer. He learned to make munitions, a dangerous and noisome job. He was at Savannah in the autumn of 1779 when a combined Patriot and French force attacked the city with disastrous results. He claimed that the “Negroes” did everything they could to repel the attack. They knew that “the rebels” would show no mercy to them if the British had to surrender. Handley was wounded during the battle. He was carrying grapeshot to the artillery when a musket ball hit him in the leg. It took months for the wound to heal so that he could walk. He would have taken part in the British siege of Charleston the following spring, he declared, if he had not been wounded. At the time he submitted his memorial, he stated that he remained unable to walk properly and that the pain was so bad that at times he could not work. He requested compensation from the Claims Commission in the amount of £97 for the loss of his possessions, livelihood, fishing boat, seven hogs, and furniture. The total claim would be about $25,000 in today’s money. That may seem substantial but many white planters and merchants claimed thousands of pounds, literally millions today. When the commission interviewed him  he brought along a white widow from Charleston as a testimonial witness. Mrs. Eleanor Lister. She had made and sold pies for her living, which she sometimes traded for fish from Mr. Handley. Lister testified that she believed Scipio was free and that he had possessed at least some of what he claimed. When one of the commissioners asked what kind of  furniture Handley possessed she answered tellingly: “Good enough for Negroes.” She asked the commission to give him “something” because he had “risked his life to serve His Majesty.” The commission dismissed her and asked Handley why he did not return to South Carolina to recover his property. “They’d hang me if I went back,” he replied. “During the war, Governor Rutledge ordered that all slaves who helped the British be executed.” The records of the Loyalist Claims Commission record the amounts awarded to the claimants, at least some of them. It does not contain any information about what Scipio Handley received, if any. Other Black Loyalists did receive varying amounts of compensation, although not a great deal.  The commission took about six years to make its final report on the awards. It may be that by then, Scipio Handley had died. Perhaps we will never know that either.

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Reluctant Loyalist: Dr. Alexander Garden of Charleston

People who supported the British government during the American Revolution were a varied lot. Loyalists were rich and poor, white and black, men and women. They included recent immigrants and members of established colonial families. Above all, they were caught in a web of circumstances beyond their control. 

Each had their reasons for choosing the British side, reasons often much more complicated than rooting for a football team or trying to profit in some way. Loyalists usually had friends and family on the other side. 

William Franklin, illegitimate son of Benjamin Franklin, remained staunchly loyal to the British Crown, which had appointed him Royal Governor of New Jersey. Dr. Alexander Garden of Charlestown (Charleston after 1783) was less staunch in his loyalty, but in the end the victors branded him as a Loyalist. 

Most writing about Garden focuses on his contributions to natural history. My focus here is on Garden's attempts to negotiate the treacherous waters of revolutionary America, a subject that has received much less attention. [Image: Portrait of Alexander Garden.]

Garden was born in Birse, Aberdeenshire, Scotland in 1730. His father was minister of the village church. In his teens, Alexander studied medicine at Aberdeen and Edinburgh Universities and received an MD from Edinburgh. 

He served as a surgeon in the British navy for several years, but resigned, he said, because he was always ill at sea. A lung complaint, perhaps tuberculosis, may also have played a part in his decision. The air below decks in the ships of the day was always foul. In later life, he always dreaded ocean voyages.

Garden emigrated to South Carolina in 1752 in hopes of improving his health and his income. In the latter goal, certainly, he succeeded. South Carolina was not only the wealthiest British North American colony, it was also the unhealthiest. He suffered from the local fevers as all newcomers did, but survived what people called "The Seasoning." 

A few years after arriving, he wooed and married a wealthy heiress, Elizabeth Peronneau, whom he called Toby. Three of their children survived to adulthood, a son, Alex, and daughters Harriette and Juliette. He soon developed a flourishing practice, aided by his adoption of inoculation for smallpox, one of the most dreaded scourges of colonial America.

By the early 1770s Garden was one of the richest physician in town. He established a network of close friends among the planter and merchant elite, many of whom used his medical services. Garden developed an especially close friendship with Henry Laurens, former slave trader and merchant/planter. Garden tutored Laurens' eldest son John to prepare him for education in England. 

In his spare time -- he never had enough, he complained -- he pursued his life's passion, natural history. He corresponded with and sent botanical and zoological specimens to leading natural historians in Europe. Among them was Sweden's Linnaeus, who developed the modern system of biological classification. Linnaeus named the gardenia for Garden. 

In 1773, the prestigious Royal Society of London elected Garden to membership for his contributions to science. Benjamin Franklin, then working in London as a colonial agent, nominated him. 

In the same year, Garden bought a plantation in Goose Creek from fellow physician John Moultrie, Jr., who had  been appointed Lt. Governor of British East Florida. Garden renamed it Otranto, perhaps after Horace Walpole's recently published novella, The Castle of Otranto. Garden was also amassing other properties in and near Charleston.

In the early 1770s, all seemed to be going well for Garden. Then history took one of those turns that forces people to make difficult, often agonizing, choices. For some years, tension between Britain and its colonies in North America had been growing. 

The real issue, as so often, was about power. Who should have the preponderance of it, the British government or the colonial legislatures? Interestingly, Garden realized the heart of the issue as early as 1765, during Stamp Act Crisis. The conflict, he wrote to a friend in England, was really about sovereignty. 

In the northern colonies, resistance took the form of a rejection of taxes imposed by the British Parliament. In the southern colonies, that was an issue as well, but another concern drove many wealthy southerners to cooperate with their northern neighbors. 

In 1772, the Chief Justice of the Court of King's Bench in London, Lord Mansfield, ruled that slavery was illegal in England; that it had no basis in common law. The Somerset Ruling, as Mansfield's decision is known, aroused panic among many southern slaveholders. They concluded, wrongly,  that the ruling would soon be extended to the colonies. The best way to prevent that possibility, they decided, was to renounce British claims to legislate for the colonies. 

In the spring of 1775, tension gave way to violence and war. Talk of independence was in the air. The issue of armed resistance and independence immediately divided Americans into Whigs or Patriots and Loyalists or Tories.

In South Carolina, the Whigs took control and formed an extra legal Provincial Government. It took over the functions of the royal administration and the old assembly. The new Provincial Congress voted funds to raise an army. and demanded that all (white, male) citizens swear allegiance to the new regime. Holdouts were to be labeled "obnoxious persons". Some legislators demanded they be imprisoned. 

Garden faced a terrible dilemma. Before coming to South Carolina, he had served for several years as a naval surgeon. He had taken an oath to the Crown. As a youth in Scotland, he witnessed the terrible costs of joining a rebellion against the British Crown, in 1745-46. 

His father had remained loyal to the Hanoverian king, George II, but some of his relatives joined the Jacobites, led by the overly romanticized "Bonnie Prince Charlie." A crushing Hanoverian victory, at Culloden in 1746, ended the Jacobite threat. Scots families who had supported the Stuart cause often lost their land, their freedom, and sometimes their lives. They were labeled traitors. 

Similarly, Garden had friends on both sides of the American divide. Like many people in the colonies, perhaps as many as a third, he wanted to remain neutral. Events made that choice increasingly difficult to sustain. Some of the more extreme Patriots harassed him, trying to get him to join them. More moderate Whig friends, including Henry Laurens, tried to protect him but urged him to take the various oaths of allegiance to the new regime. 

Garden eventually found ways to satisfy the oaths without, in his view, compromising his neutrality. With help from Laurens and other Whig friends, he was able to remain free and continue his medical practice for five turbulent years. His doctoring skills protected him as well. People on both sides respected his ability and employed him to treat their diseases and wounds.

The British capture of  Charleston in May 1780 changed everything. Garden refused to take the Oath of Loyalty to the British Crown, which many so-called Patriots rushed to do. He seems to have reasoned that he had already taken such an oath when he joined the Royal Navy, and had done nothing to violate it. He also refused to take a position in the new British administration. It seems he still desired to remain neutral, but felt safer under British rule.

A few months later, Garden made what in retrospect seems a major mistake. In August 1780, General Lord Cornwallis won a crushing victory over a Patriot Army at Camden. It seemed that the American rebellion was doomed, at least in the Lower South. Garden, perhaps thinking that British rule was secure, agreed to sign a memorial of congratulations to Cornwallis. Whether he did so voluntarily or under pressure is not clear.

The congratulations proved premature. Fevers, partisan attacks, and the arrival of another Patriot army under General Nathanael Greene undermined the British control of the Carolinas within a few months. In the Spring of 1781, Cornwallis decided to march his army north to Virginia. He wrote his superiors that he could not subject his men to another deadly summer in feverish South Carolina. His decision led directly to Yorktown and surrender. 

The force Cornwallis left behind was unable to maintain control of the Carolina backcountry. By the early autumn of 1781, partisan forces and Greene's army had occupied most of the state outside of Charleston. The British held on in that enclave for another year. In December 1782, they withdrew, knowing peace would soon be declared. When the British fleet left Charleston, Garden and most of his family were aboard one of the ships. The decision to leave was not his choice. [Image: The Evacuation of Charleston by the British, by Howard Pyle, 1898, Delaware Art Museum]

At the beginning of that year, the South Carolina State Assembly met at Jacksonville, about 30 miles south of Charleston. It was the first legislative session since the British occupation. A major item on the agenda was how to punish Loyalists. Some were merely amerced (fined) but the assembly banished many of them from the state and confiscated their property. 

Garden was among those banished. His sin was to have signed the memorial congratulating Lord Cornwallis. A few delegates, including John Laurens, tried to commute his punishment to an amercement, or fine, but in vain. Vengeance was the order of the day. Henry Laurens was far away in England and unable to help his friend. 

The War for Independence proved disastrous for Garden, not only financially. It also divided his family. During the British occupation of Charleston his daughter Harriette fell in love with and married a British officer, Major George Benson. Benson was particularly disliked by the Patriots as he was in charge of the arrest of a group of active revolutionaries, who included Christopher Gadsden, Arthur Middleton, and Garden's medical friend and colleague, David Ramsay. 

In the summer of 1781, Garden's son Alex returned from education in Britain -- in defiance of his father's wishes. Soon after his arrival, he ran off and joined the Continental Army of General Greene. He became an aide de camp to Greene and rose to the rank of Major. 

Because he had joined the Patriot side, Alex was allowed to keep the Garden plantation at Otranto, despite the suspicions of some Patriots that he had joined the Patriot side to save the family estate. That possibility cannot be ignored. During the Jacobite rebellions in Scotland, many Scottish families had done exactly that. 

Dr. Garden always denied any collusion with Alex. He denounced his son's decision to join Greene's army and never reconciled with him. The South Carolina government later restored some of Dr. Garden's property and rescinded his banishment, but he never returned to Charleston or benefited from the change. One of the reasons seems to have been his fear of another long ocean voyage.

After the war, Alex married Mary Anna Gibbes, daughter of one of his father's old friends. He wrote two books about the Revolution. Alex was not good at managing his affairs, however, and fell into debt. His wife and children predeceased him (as so often happened in the deadly lowcountry). Otranto passed to an adopted nephew, Alester Gibbes, after Alex's death in 1829. [Image: Major Alexander Garden, artist unknown]

In 1783, Dr. Garden, his wife Elizabeth, and younger daughter Juliette settled in London, at a house on Cecil Street, off the Strand. Soon after he settled in, he activated his membership in the Royal Society, and a few years later was elected its vice-president. 

He spent years trying to obtain compensation from the British government for his losses in the war. He finally received some, but it was a fraction of his losses. Shortly after the government awarded it, he died, probably of a lung disorder, in 1791. 

Garden's wife Elizabeth (Toby) survived until 1805. His eldest daughter Harriette prospered. Her husband, George Benson, became a general. She died a wealthy widow in 1847. His younger daughter, Juliette, did not fare as well. She married a British soldier as well, Captain Alexander Fotheringham. They had five children. All five died within one week in an epidemic. She and her husband died within days of one another in 1820.

Further reading:

 

Edmund Berkeley and Dorothy Smith Berkeley, Alexander Garden of Charles Town (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1969)

Peter McCandless, Slavery, Disease, and Suffering in the Southern Lowcountry. New York: Cambridge University Press. 2011, 2014. 

James Edward Smith, A Selection of the Correspondence of Linnaeus and Other Naturalists (2 vols., London, 1821)

The Papers of Henry Laurens. 16 vols., (Columbia, SC: University of South Carolina Press, 1972-2003. Volumes dealing with the 1760s and 1770s.)

John Drayton, Memoirs of the American Revolution 2 vols., Charleston, 1821. Based on documents John's father William Henry Drayton had collected prior to his death.

Alexander Garden (Major Garden), Anecdotes of the Revolutionary War in America (Charleston, 1822) and Anecdotes of the American Revolution (Charleston, 1828)

Alfred W. Blumrosen and Ruth G. Blumrosen, Slave Nation: How Slavery United the Colonies & Sparked the American Revolution (Naperville, Illinois: Source Books, 2005)

Alexander Garden - History of Early American Landscape Design (nga.gov)

A South Carolina Loyalist's Voyage into Exile, 1778: Louisa Wells Aikman

One of the most interesting narratives produced during the War for American Independence was by a woman, Louisa Susannah (Wells) Aikman. She left a detailed record of her voyage from Charleston, South Carolina to London in 1778. It was a voyage into exile because she was a Loyalist from a family of Loyalists. 

[Image: Louisa Wells Aikman, from a miniature painted c. 1815.]

Louisa was born in Charleston in 1755. Her parents, Robert Wells and Mary Rowand, married in 1750. Three years later they emigrated to Charleston. They moved there in part because members of her mother's family in Scotland had been implicated in the failed Jacobite Rebellion of 1745, on behalf of "Bonnie Prince Charlie." 

Mary's family had been forced to change their name, from Ruthven to Rowand. The Ruthven name, like the tartan, had been outlawed after the rebellion. 

Robert Wells soon established a successful printing and bookselling business in Charleston. He also published Charleston's second newspaper, The South Carolina and American General Gazette. It competed with the older South Carolina Gazette, owned by Peter Timothy. The two became bitter rivals. 

Wells amassed considerable property, including a house at 71 Tradd Street that survives. In 1775, he claimed to have the largest stock of books of any bookseller in the North American colonies. [Image: Wells' house on Tradd and East Bay]

Ironically, Wells' newspaper was the first in South Carolina to publish the Declaration of Independence, in August 1776. Ironically, because Wells was a Loyalist who staunchly defended the British government in his editorials. 

Wells had left Charleston for London the previous year, declaring that he could not live under the rebel government of South Carolina. His younger son, William Charles Wells, soon followed him, determined to pursue a medical degree at Edinburgh. William was then an apprentice to Dr. Alexander Garden, the naturalist for whom the gardenia is named. His wife Mary and daughters Priscilla and Helena went to England after William. 

Robert placed the management of his business in the hands of his eldest son John, assisted by Louisa, his eldest daughter. John had apparently shared his father's political views, but as the inevitability of independence and war approached, he joined the Patriot side. It was John who published the Declaration of Independence, enthusiastically, he claimed. 

John's sincerity may be doubted. He switched sides again in 1780 when the British captured Charleston, and then again when they evacuated it in 1782. He became the black sheep of the family before dying in poverty in the West Indies in 1799. 

Louisa remained committed to the British cause, and like many other Loyalists, was banished from South Carolina in 1778 for refusing to sign an Oath of Allegiance to the state. 

A major fire in Charleston that January had destroyed much of the family property. The Patriot government confiscated the rest. Louisa no longer felt bound by the promise she had made to stay in Charleston and preserve the family property "as long as one stone stood upon another." 

In late June, Louisa, her uncle Robert Rowand, his son, and other Loyalists boarded the ship Providence, bound for Rotterdam. From there, they hoped to get passage to England. Louisa's maid Bella came with her. 

Was Bella enslaved? Louisa does not say. If she was, she would have been legally free once she landed in Britain. Chief Justice Mansfield's decision in the Somerset Case (1772) had declared slavery illegal in England.

As the ship began to leave Charleston harbor, many boats were busy bringing palmetto trees into town to celebrate the second anniversary of the "ever inglorious 28th of June 1776." [Image: Charleston Harbor, c. 1773, Library of Congress]

She was referring to the Battle of Sullivan's Island, the first major defeat the colonists had inflicted on the British. As they passed Fort Moultrie at the entrance to the harbor, she noted that they could see British cannon balls "lodged in the [palmetto] logs as in a sponge." 

The ship was stuck at the harbor entrance for a few days by adverse winds. On July 1, they went bumpily but safely "over the bar," guided by a "Black Pilot" named Bluff. The passengers paid him $100 in addition to the ship master's fee. 

Louisa remarks on Bluff's skill and pointedly mentions that the passengers had chosen a black pilot in preference to a white man. Many of Charleston's most respected harbor pilots at the time were of African origin.  

Once upon the open ocean, they celebrated their deliverance from "the dominion of Congress." As they sailed away on a brisk Southwest wind, the last bit of Charleston to disappear from sight was the black steeple of St. Michael's. Originally white, as it is today, the revolutionary government had ordered it painted black so that it would be harder for British ships to see. (It wasn't, except perhaps in the dark.) 

Many hair-raising adventures lay ahead. On the 4th of July (how ironic!) their ship was captured by a British navy vessel, The Rose. Its captain, James Reid, first thought Providence was French. It had been built in France. He then decided the passengers were American rebels. Despite their protests he ordered Providence taken to New York as a prize, hoping to claim its cargo.

A few days later, nearing the British stronghold of New York, they were pursued by a French fleet under the Comte d'Estaing. They managed to reach safety in the harbor. 

At first it seemed they were in danger of being treated as rebels in New York, but influential Loyalist friends intervened to ensure they weren't. While waiting for a judgment on the disposal of the ship's cargo, Louisa spent several weeks in Flushing with old friends, Colonel Archibald Hamilton and his "Lady," granddaughter of Cadwallader Colden, long-time Lt. Governor of New York.

A Vice Admiralty court ruled in favor of the Providence. Louisa and the other passengers recovered their property and were allowed to leave. In mid-October they embarked on the Mary and Charlotte, bound for England, accompanied by a convoy of naval and mercantile ships. After having survived storms and avoided French and American privateers, they became lost in dense fog for eight days off the south English coast, unsure of their location. 

When the fog cleared they found themselves off the rocky coast of Cornwall. That night another ferocious storm struck. Five of the six ships in their group were lost. 

Louisa's ship survived, and they anchored near Dover on November 27. Contrary winds prevented their landing, but she and other passengers were able to disembark a few miles down the coast at Deal. Observing the stone walls of Deal Castle, she remarked that the British should build forts of palmetto logs!

She described her emotions when finally stepping onto "British soil": "I could have kissed the gravel on the salt beach! It was my home: the country which I had so long and so earnestly wished to see. The Isle of Liberty and Peace." 

It seems a rather ironic statement from a woman born in South Carolina of Scottish parents as she arrived on the South coast of England! Especially as her mother's family had supported the Jacobite Rebellion of 1745 against the Hanoverian monarchs. 

From Deal Louisa and her uncle took a coach across the Chalk Downs (hills) and passed through Canterbury, Rochester and Greenwich to London. Along the way, she remarked how remarkably green the countryside was compared to America in late November.

She ended her journey at the home of her parents at 47 Salisbury Court, just off Fleet Street. The street was then known colloquially as the printers' street because it was home to so many printing establishments. It was a natural place for Robert Wells to settle, and he had built a successful printing business there. 

Louisa fell ill of a fever shortly after she arrived. Her parents sent her to Bath Spa to recover. The journey must have been unpleasant because she claimed that she would rather have made a voyage to the West Indies. 

Ironically, that is where she soon went. In 1782 she married Alexander Aikman, Printer to the House of Assembly and King's Printer, in Jamaica, and a member of the Assembly. 

The couple had known each other in Charleston. For four years they had worked together in her father's business. On her way to Jamaica to marry Aikman, Louisa's ship was seized by a French naval vessel. She was interned in France for several months before being allowed to resume her journey. 

The couple had 10 children, only four of whom survived to adulthood. Such appalling child mortality was typical of malarial Jamaica and also of Louisa's native South Carolina. It was in part a consequence of an economy based on enslaved African labor.

Around 1820 Louisa moved to Cowes on the Isle of Wight, perhaps for health reasons or to be with her daughter Susannah. Louisa died in Cowes in 1831, aged 76. 

A few months after her arrival in London in November 1778, Louisa wrote the work from which most of this information comes, The Journal of a Voyage from Charlestown, S.C., to London (1779). The journal is an important primary source for social life during the Revolutionary Era generally. 

Due to the loss of his Charleston property, ill-advised lending, and a paltry pension from the British government, Robert Wells fell into debt in the 1780s, leaving the family in comparative poverty. He suffered a paralyzing stroke in 1791 and died three years later. Mary Wells survived him, dying at Camberwell in 1805. 

Louisa's brother William became senior physician at St. Thomas' Hospital in London. He was elected a member of the Royal Society of London, the most prestigious scientific society in Britain. His written works include one in which he articulated the theory of natural selection, more than 40 years before Charles Darwin. William Charles Wells died of a heart condition in 1817. 

Louisa's sister Helena married and authored two novels. She died in 1824. We know little of her other sister, Priscilla, except that she never married. She died in 1843, outliving her siblings. 

Louisa played an important role in the preservation of popular musical scores. Along with a large load of books, Robert Wells had brought hundreds of song sheets from the British Isles to Charleston in 1753. Many of them have survived because Louisa created a personal songbook of about 110 sheets of the music. 

In 1992, the Music Division of the Library of Congress purchased the book. Individual sheets are available for viewing at the Library online. https://www.loc.gov/notated-music/?all=true&q=Louisa+Susannah+Wells&sp=1

Further Reading: 

Louisa's journal was published in 1906 by the New York Historical Society. A copy can be accessed online at the Internet Archive:

The journal of a voyage from Charlestown, S. C., to London, undertaken during the American revolution by a daughter of an eminent American loyalist : Aikman, Louisa Susannah Wells, 1755?-1831 : Free Download, Borrow, and Streaming : Internet Archive

Peter McCandless, Slavery, Disease, and Suffering in the Southern Lowcountry. New York: Cambridge University Press. 2011, 2014. 

Linda Colley, Britons: Forging the Nation, 1707-1837 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1992)

The Papers of Henry Laurens. 16 vols., (Columbia, SC: University of South Carolina Press, 1972-2003. See Volumes dealing with the 1770s.

"Don't Tread on Me": Christopher Gadsden and His Flag

Christopher Gadsden of South Carolina is best known today as the designer of the iconic "Gadsden Flag." The flag features a rattlesnake on a bright yellow background, with the words "DONT TREAD ON ME" at the bottom. The snake is coiled to strike. 

The flag's message was directed towards the British government: Step on the liberties of the American people at your peril. The snake has thirteen rattles, symbolizing the thirteen colonies that were soon to declare their independence. [Image: Gadsden Flag]

Gadsden displayed the flag at a meeting of the South Carolina Provincial Congress in February 1776 to great acclaim. It became a popular symbol of Patriot resistance. In recent years it has been appropriated by far right groups to show their defiance of ... whatever they are currently defying, usually the federal government and other conspirators against "freedom."  It featured prominently in the January 6 insurrection that led to the storming of the Capitol Building in Washington, DC. [Image: January 6, 2021]

There is much more to Gadsden's story than his flag, however. First, a little background. Gadsden was born in Charleston, South Carolina in 1724. His father, Thomas Gadsden, was a former British naval officer who had been appointed as customs collector for the port of Charleston. 

Thomas sent young Christopher to Bristol, England to be educated. Returning to America in 1740, he worked briefly as an apprentice in a Philadelphia counting house. He inherited a sizeable fortune when his parents died in 1741. During King George's War (1744-1748) he served as a purser on a British naval vessel. Afterwards, he became a merchant and planter. 

In 1767 he built a large wharf in Charleston. Gadsden's Wharf became a major receiving point for enslaved Africans. More than 100,000 were landed there between 1767 and 1808, when the legal slave trade ended. 

During the construction of the wharf, Gadsden quipped that he was going to "fill the foundation with imported Scotchmen, who are fit for nothing better." It was a joke, but it reflected his dislike of Scots, in particular Scottish merchants, who he viewed as undeserving beneficiaries of British trade policies. His dislike of Scots may also have derived from his service in the Cherokee War of 1760, when he clashed with Highland Scots officers. 

In the years leading up to the Revolution, many colonials accused Scots of conspiring to undermine their freedom. [Image: Scots Lord Bute and Chief Justice Lord Mansfield (in center) conspiring against American liberty, 1775. In fact, neither had any influence over British colonial policy at the time] 

  

In 1757 Gadsden was elected to the South Carolina Commons House of Assembly. He soon began to clash openly with the royal governors over British trade and taxation policies. In 1766, the assembly appointed him to represent South Carolina at the Stamp Act Congress in New York City. He was one of the most radical delegates at the Congress and formed an alliance and friendship with the equally radical Sam Adams of Boston, leader of the Sons of Liberty in Boston. Gadsden has often been called the "Sam Adams of the South."

Gadsden became a leader of the Charleston Sons of Liberty, who terrorized the town looking for stamps and other evidence of pro-British leanings. Among the houses they raided was that of planter and slave trader Henry Laurens. According to Laurens, they frightened his sick wife Eleanor half to death. He threw them his cellar keys and told them to help themselves to wine. They found no stamps, apologized and left. Laurens subsequently supported Gadsden and the Liberty Boys, but with some hesitation. 

In 1771, future Patriot William Henry Drayton called Gadsden a madman who ought to be in Bedlam. But Drayton was then defending the British Crown. After he abruptly switched sides in the early 1770s, the two became allies in the Patriot cause. 

As the conflict with Britain escalated, Gadsden was elected to the First and Second Continental Congresses in Philadelphia. In early 1776, he left Congress to assume command of the newly formed 1st South Carolina Regiment and serve in the South Carolina Provincial Congress. It was then that he first displayed his famous flag. He also brought a pamphlet written by a recent immigrant from England, calling for American independence, Common Sense by Thomas Paine. It was less well received. 

The interim President of South Carolina, John Rutledge, appointed Gadsden brigadier and commander of the state's military forces. In 1778 Gadsden helped draft a new state constitution under which he became lieutenant governor.  

When the British besieged Charleston in the spring of 1780, Rutledge left for the backcountry to rally resistance. Gadsden remained to help coordinate the defense of the city. 

By the middle of April, however, the British had nearly encircled Charleston. Benjamin Lincoln, the commander of the Southern Continental Army, decided that his only option besides surrender was to flee with his army while escape remained possible. 

Word got out to Gadsden. He and several of his councillors stormed into Lincoln's headquarters as he was discussing his proposals with his officers. Gadsden accused Lincoln of cowardice. Lincoln agreed to stay.  

In early May, the British unleashed a ferocious bombardment of the city. Gadsden led another delegation to see General Lincoln. This time, he demanded that Lincoln surrender to save the property and lives of the citizens. On May 12, Lincoln surrendered. It was the worst defeat for the Patriot forces in the war. The entire army, more than 5000 men, was made prisoner. 

The militia and many civilian leaders were initially given parole; that is, allowed to go free, as long as they did not continue to oppose the Crown. A few weeks after the surrender, however, the British arrested Gadsden and about twenty other rebel leaders on the grounds that they were plotting further resistance. 

Shipped to the British stronghold in St. Augustine, Florida, they remained prisoners until the following summer. The commander in St. Augustine offered them parole and the freedom of the town. Gadsden alone refused it. The British, he argued, had already violated their original promise of parole. 

In July 1781, the British released the prisoners on parole and sent them to Philadelphia. Gadsden returned to South Carolina in time to serve in the Jacksonborough Assembly in early 1782. At the time,  Charleston was still under British occupation. The Assembly elected him as governor, but he declined the office due to poor health. 

One of the most contentious items on the Assembly's agenda was drawing up a list of Loyalists to be punished after the war, which was nearing its end. Proposed punishments ranged from banishment and confiscation of property to amercements or fines. 

Gadsden shocked the assembly by urging leniency towards Loyalists. His words had little effect on the majority of delegates, who shouted him down. They demanded severe punishments. Some accused Gadsden of trying to protect Loyalists in his family. 

Thousands of Loyalists left South Carolina with the British or shortly thereafter. (Some were later able to get their punishments reduced and returned.)

Gadsden lived for another 23 years. He sat in the state convention of 1788 that ratified the United States Constitution. After 1798 he lived in Charleston at the house he built at 329 East Bay Street. He died in 1805 after falling from a horse. [Image: Gadsden House and Gadsden in old age]

 

 Further Reading: 

John Drayton, Memoirs of the American Revolution 2 vols., Charleston, 1821. Based on documents John's father William Henry Drayton had collected prior to his death.

The Papers of Henry Laurens. 16 vols., Columbia, SC: University of South Carolina Press, 1972-2003. Volumes dealing with the 1760s and 1770s.

Stanly Godbold, Jr., and Robert Woody, Christopher Gadsden and the American Revolution (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1983).

Daniel McDonough, Christopher Gadsden and Henry Laurens: The Parallel Lives of Two American Patriots (Susquehanna University Press, 2000).

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