A Question of Character: The Failed American Revolutions

As British forces battle the remaining armies in rebellion in the southern colonies, African slaves are increasingly recruited into the conflict. John Murray, the 4th Earl of Dunmore and colonial governor of Virginia had promised freedom in 1775 to all bondsmen, black or white, who join in their military campaign.

Dunmore was not an abolitionist, and the British had no problem selling many of the slave that ran to them back into slavery.

Obviously, British North America will keep slavery significantly longer than OTL, especially in the Northern states.
 
Dunmore was not an abolitionist, and the British had no problem selling many of the slave that ran to them back into slavery.

Obviously, British North America will keep slavery significantly longer than OTL, especially in the Northern states.

Absolutely.

Republican radicalism was critical both in the spontaneous abolition of places like Vermont and Massachusetts and the Pennsylvanian gradual abolition law that set a precedent for it in most of the north. Without the Revolution, Ohio would be colonized in a generation by northern slavers, and slavery would remain a general American institution into the 19th century.
 
A Letter for General Howe

A Letter for General Howe

August, 1776.

General William Howe viewed the letter from his brother George with pleasure. George was a brilliant man, a skilled military tactician, and a man that lived by example. General Howe had benefited greatly from learning from his military experience, and his sincere dedication to simplicity in both life and in battle.

These letters had been a foundation for his life over the last two decades, not merely for their vibrant intellectual exchange on military matters. They expressed a true sense of concern and true consideration for his well-being. General Howe recalled that many years ago, George’s newly-married wife, Christine, had attended a meeting of Wesleyan revivalists with a friend. Although she would never become a radical reformist, she was deeply moved by the experience. She kept contacts with acquaintences in the Methodist movement within the Church of England, and began to develop a zealous dedication to personal morality and charity to the poor.

Over the years, this affected George, as well. He already lived with a humble commitment to equality before all his fellow soldiers. Christine’s daily example of charity and humility taught him to become even more committed to moral improvement, the fulfillment of his duties, and a heart-felt concern for the well-being of his companions and family.

William Howe, turned his eyes back to the letter. One section in particular struck him on this occasion:

Let us turn for a moment from these questions of provision of goods and discipline of arms, and remember the root cause. War, indeed, is but a work of man, and one of the basest works of all. Yet we must in all things commit even the base and inglorious to the highest service. Each day we work to earn our bread. The most common workman earns his labor by the sweat of his brow. Whether we labor as a workman, or an Ensign, or a Commander-in-Chief, it is all the same. We must commit all our labor as under to the Lord.

This is a time of great turmoil. I know that we both have misgivings about this action in the Colonies. We both can hope for equitable terms of reconciliation with the Crown. That is our hope. Yet for the present moment, we are called to serve. We have a command: to defend the Crown. That is our duty. We must fulfill it with honor. We must pursue it with commitment. And we must fulfill it with diligence.

You have proven your worth countless times. I know you are fully equipped to the task. I have seen the strength of your spirit, both as a soldier and a Man. More than any man, I know the strength of the blood which runs through your veins. May God give you the strength you need for the labor set before you.

His brother was certainly a better man than he. If only George had not been crippled in a hunting accident seven years ago, making him unfit for continued service. It had been George who had inspired him to greatness during the Seven Years War; it had been George who had stepped aside from his seat in Parliament after his injury, and advocated on his behalf to replace him in his seat in Parliament; it had been George’s constant support that had helped him rise through the ranks, to eventually become the Commander-in-Chief for the British Forces in America.

The support of his brother throughout these years and been vital to William after his defeat at Boston. The blow to his spirit had been a hard one. Without his brother’s years of building his self-confidence, he might never have recovered his composure so quickly. But his brother believed in him, not merely his outward appearance, but in him, as a human being, with all sincerity.

He swore to himself that he would never betray the confidence placed in him through the true spirit of filial love. He would fight this battle without fear.
 
Faeelin and Admiral Matt-- British Colonies Abolition

Faeelin and Admiral Matt-- The ultimate course of the Abolition movement within the British Empire depends on several key structural decisions in the early 19th century. I may change the course of the timeline.

Yes, Dunmore was no abolitionist. Use of slaves by the British was clearly strategic, rather than moral or sentimental. The Black Loyalists in Nova Scotia in TTL did not fare well. That is where Liberia came from, after all.

The fate of freed Black Loyalists in the British Provinces in OTL depends on some key characters. And worry not, I am sure they will face the full wrath of British colonial racism. We will see where the story goes.
 
Speaking of brothers, what role did Lawrence have on TTL's George Washington?

I suspect Lawrence is going to get far more of the brunt of dad's wrath than the younger sibling, and if not, he's going to serve as a model same as he did for OTL George.

My suggestion then - although I think this will have significant impacts on George that interfere with him being in a position to be commander of the Continental Army - is having Lawrence die young. As in, twelve or less.
 
Elfwine-- George Washington's Family

Elfwine-- Very good point. Lawrence is very important. I really should not brush over him. I don't think I want him to die (earlier than he did). I may add some material explaining his impact.
 
Elfwine-- Very good point. Lawrence is very important. I really should not brush over him. I don't think I want him to die (earlier than he did). I may add some material explaining his impact.

Personally, and I don't want to discourage this timeline, I think you're trying too hard to have OTL figures in the American leadership.

Washington turning out like you're molding him? Plausible, I think. But that Washington won't be treated as OTL's Washington was.
 
A Letter for George Washington:

A Letter for George Washington:

August, 1776:

George Washington sat. His aides, stone-faced, formed a semicircle in front of him. The dust of the battle was still encrusted on some of their boots. The all to near roar of gunfire hung over Long Island. The battle was lost, and the retreat must begin. General Howe was pursuing the fleeing troops with unexpected vigor.

It was time to make a decision.

George searched for words. But at that moment, he had no words inside him to give. He heard no sounds of gunfire. He did not hear the murmurs of concern that began to ripple through the meeting. The only sounds that he heard were the words of his long-dead father, ringing in his ears, “Build well, little boy. One day the Devil will take it all to hell.

Those words could not leave the back of his mind. He had used the force of his will to remove them from his thoughts—to focus on his duty, to pursue excellence and integrity. But ever since he had received That Letter, the struggle had become all-consuming.

The loss of his brother had been hard. Lawrence had always been a pillar of his life, an exemplar, far better than the hidden scorn of his deranged father. He had been there when no one else had. If anyone could succeed, his brother could.

But those letters and diaries from Lawrence that he had received in Boston had shattered that pillar. Why would he receive them now, of all times? His brother had died over twenty years ago. When George received news of his death years ago, he had assumed that illness was the cause. No one in the family had explained otherwise.

But now this scandal. Lawrence's widow had kept his letters for years. Now that she was on her deathbed she had felt that the time for truth had come. She had reason to fear the truth-- the laws of England were often far away, but the truth could have lead to prosecution, questions of inheritance, even confiscation of property.

These letters, these writings of his brother showed a battle with secret despair. The secret fears. The secret anger. But even worse, the secret indiscretion. Not just any indiscretion— unnatural unions. Young boys, sought out in private, used as a man uses a woman. Did he treat them well, even? Or did he pour out his hidden anger on them, as his father had on him?

The letters showed that the truth was about to come out. It was more shame than his brother could bear. And so his death was not caused by the all too common scourge of illness. Instead, his death was the shocking work of his own hands.

Build well, little boy. One day the Devil will take it all to hell.” With Lawrence, at least, his father had been right. A well-built life, a successful man, with property and family. All thrown down into deepest hell.

George had pushed all this into the background as he fulfilled his duties during the day. But at night, he could think of nothing else as the army marched from Boston to New York. Did the words of George’s father drag Lawrence down, too? What terrible things had his father done to him in those times when they were alone, that had left him shaking and pale? They had both worked so hard, pushed to the top of their society, their country, their people, hoping to escape that dark shadow of their father that had been cast over their lives. If Lawrence could fall, what hope was there for him? If the life of his brother had ended in destruction, what trust could he have in his own self?

An aide cleared his throat. The murmurs had ceased, and now all fixed their eyes on their General. They sat, and they waited for vital orders from the field. They sat as George Washington became increasingly lost in indecisive, planning and re-planning how to recover the battle. They waited as he gave orders, then rescinded them, sat in silence, then lashed out in one of his explosive rages when one of his subordinates questioned him. They waited for direction as the battle turned into a retreat. They implored him for direction as the retreat turned into a rout. And the rout continued as George Washington fought a losing battle with the dark voice of his father whispering in his mind.
 
I wish I could praise this, because I like the writing. I really do. Strong imagery, and good use of Lawrence's influence on George.

But I think a Washington with these issues is not going to be put in the position he was in OTL. Washington was picked because not because he was brilliant but because he had kept a cool head in tough times.
 
Washington

Hey Elfwine,

I think that is a fair point about Washington. His resolve and cool thinking in disaster was his best quality, and probably the reason he was picked. But I am skeptical that generals were chosen based on strict meritocracy.

I think it is still at least plausible that he could have been picked, for the sake of reputation, politics, and some reasonable successes during the Sevens Years War. Not likely, but plausible.

Regardless, let's see how it plays out. Washington won't be in the picture much longer, anyway.

- Ben
 
The Righteous Sons of Liberty Strike London

May, 1776

John Atkins threw his glee out at the wreckage of the fires sweeping through the dock of London. His greasy locks hung flat against his face, pressed by the sweat dripping down his brow. A rotten-toothed grin cracked his pock-marked face. The reflection of the fires gleamed off his eyes. What a blow against the blood-soaked tyranny of the British Empire!

A fierce spring wind blew his cloak about him as he fled past metal-bound oak barrels, hard-packed dirt alleyways, past the hot horses pulling their loads and street children begging on the corner. He hoped the wind would blow him all across England, blowing these fires of destruction against all the ports of this vast collection of hypocritical imbeciles, these fat nobles who fed off of the flesh of their people.

He pushed open the door of a seedy pub. The familiar stench of old piss and vomit hit his nose as he walked past the men in ragged coats and trousers nursing their ale. Wilma the Whore raised her painted cheeks off her hands and winked in his direction. But there was no time for old friends. He needed to meet his courageous band of Sons of Liberty.

Up a flight of rickety stairs, he ran down the hall and knocked feverishly on the lodging hall door. Someone barely cracked open the door. I single slit of an eye could be seen. “A man in black is on the right path,” spewed out John hurriedly. The door opened wide, revealing a group of five men crowed together in a space barely large enough for an old mat and a bundle of rags on the floor.

John swept his eyes over the men. His wide smile broke. “Where’s Sergeant Elbridge?” James MacPharlane shook his head. “Not here, yet. Guess they got ‘im.” A mass of curses spewed out of John’s mouth. “Well, what are we going to do? He knows everything! If they torture it out of him, we’re all heading for the giblet, for sure.”

John wiped his mouth. “But ya’ seen the fire, haven’t ya’, brothers?” John wiped more spittle away as he grinned, “Dear God of heaven! With that wind, I’d wager that half the dock will be gone by noon.” James squinted his eyes, “Less then that, but with the amount we planted, I’ll bet a shilling the smoke’ll be rising for a week.”

The whole group started at the sound of more pounding on the door. “A man in black is on the right path,” called out a muffled voice. John pounced on the handle, and flung the portal open. In its frame stood a tall man, with a straight back, a strong chin, but a red, sponge-like nose, and pain-creased eyes. “Sergeant Elbridge!” cried John, “So our dreams live on, after all!”

Sergeant Elbridge held a sack in his hands, wet on the bottom. The men nervously eyed the hemp sack with fear. Elbridge showed no emotion. He opened the sack, and dumped its contents on the floor. A human head rolled out, its blank eyes staring at the ceiling. Elbridge smiled. “A blow for the Sons of Liberty.”

John wiped his lips and stepped back, his face twisted in horror. “Dear Lord!” he cried, “We were burning London docks, not killing officers! Are you mad?”

Elbridge shock his head. He stood with his back straight and looked John regally in the eye. “Your vision, sir, was not wide enough. To burn some wood and ships is the vision of a rat. If we truly wish to bring down this blood-soaked tyrant, we must pull the plant out from its root. Until the people of America are free, British officers will die.” He looked out over the men huddled in the corner. “We are righteous sons of liberty. Those who fight for justice may perish in the end, but we will live an immortal life in the arms of blessed Liberty. Follow me! The scourge on this Empire will not easily be lifted….”

Elbridge continued his speech, ever more passionate in his words. Many of the men wretched in horror at the blood-soaked head in front of them. Yet others seemed struck to his every word, eyes shining with fervor, as if they had seen the sun for the first time.
 
The Failed American Revolution: Philadelphia Falls

Spring - Summer 1776: A series of well-executed fires creates substantial damage to the London docks and partially damages several ships. These fires began to be set in docks all across England. With each fire, a handful of British officers are later found dead. Notes are left next to their body by the “Righteous Sons of Liberty.”

The effect on the British population, and the English Crown, is dramatic. Ambivalence attitudes towards the American Revolution increasingly turn negative. The threat of unexpected death creates a fear of personal threat to the British aristocracy. A massive man-hunt ensues to catch the mythical “John the Painter,” the source of these fires and killings.

September 1776: The Continental Army under George Washington retreats in poor order, pursued by the British forces under General Howe. Several thousand troops are captured in the retreat across the river after the Long Island campaign. An addition 3,000 are captured in Fort Washington. They swell the ranks of prison ships in New York waters, under the watch of General Clinton. Additional camps are made for overflowing prisoners.

George Washington remains firmly committed to retaining command of the remaining soldiers. Washington retreats quickly through New Jersey, pursued closely by the army under General Howe. Washington continues to remain painfully indecisive when faced with key decision, and makes impulsive actions, ignoring the advice of his subordinate commanders. Morale falls dramatically amongst the officers and troops. Several small encounters with the King's army fare badly for the Continental forces.


Members of the Congress in Philadelphia strongly recommend removing George Washington from command. Political in-fighting ensues, as Southern delegates seek to ensure a balance of influence within the forces between Northern and Southern generals. Besides, there was no time to change command, the King’s armies were moving rapidly through New Jersey. George Washington retains his command for now.

Morale was high amongst the Howe’s army after their recent victory. News of the fires and assassinations in England had reached the New World by this time. Howe was disturbed. He continued to question the Crown’s decision to harshly respond to the Colonists demands. But this direct attack on the people of England was too much. He would certainly protect his country when called to do so.

Howe vigorously pursued the Continental Army forces through New Jersey. New Jersey militiamen have little time to organize significant resistance, although they harry the ranks of the King's army.

Howe continues to advance. His forces meet the remaining Continental Army and militiamen north east of Philadelphia at the Battle of the Delaware. Continental Army had barely two thousand troops remaining after the effects of desertion. After a pitched battle, Howe's forces out-flank the Continental forces. With their backs to the river, and an insufficiently organized retreat, less than half of the remaining troops are able to evacuate across the river. George Washington is one of them.

The Continental Congress flees west to York. An accounting for the disaster is due: George Washington is removed from command. Horatio Gates is put in his place. The Continental Congress, under constant threat from raids throughout Pennsylvania, attempts to flee to Baltimore. By a pure stroke of luck, a raiding party intercepts most of the Congress. John Adams, Samuel Adams, and John Hancock are amongst them. The are imprisoned, under good conditions, in Philadelphia.

After a series of raids against the remnants of the Continental Army and local militia, Howe entrenches his position, and settles for the winter in the Philadelphia area.
 
The American Revolt Grinds On

Betty Gadsden crushed a clod of Jersey soil in her hands. The dark dots from the dirt scattered on the ground below. The harvest would be poor this year. It was not the soil that was to blame. It was the tumult of these dark times.

Twice her husband James had served in the war. The first time he had served the Continental Army with fervor struck by the hope of a new life for himself and his family. Betty thought of her oldest child Jim, no more than eight years old, his eyes shining with a mixture of pride and fear as James walked off with his rifle in hand. The youngest, Sarah was barely old enough to understand. It did not stop her screeching at the top of her lungs, aware, beyond her years, of something strange and unknowable.

James had returned that winter. The fervor had faded from his eyes. His feet were wrapped in rags. Three toes were missing from frost bite. His purse was empty. His commanders had not given him his pay. He wheezed with some fever that rattled his throat. Betty bathed his forehead and prayed for his healing for the next two weeks. By the grace of the Lord, he had recovered.

There was less hope for victory the next year. Rumors swirled through the town. The king's forces in Philadelphia had met with others from the north. The Continental Army was scattered. Congress was captured. Others said that Hussian solders were killing and raping women throughout the villages. Others claimed to have seen terrible signs black smoke in the sky. Others claimed that the King was ready to make peace. No one knew what was true or what was not.

Betty had been filled with fury at the tyranny of King George. He was the one who had sent this darkness over their land. Her ancestors had come over from England to create a land free from this tyranny. As a solid Congregationalist, she had a strong distrust for the monarchy. When the forces of the King came through the Jerseys again, and James went out with the militia to meet them, she had kept her neck strong. Any tears she shed were in private.

It had been three years now since he had gone. No word-- no letter, no rumor. Merely gone. Betty looked again at her two remaining children. Sarah had died six months before. She had been weak from hunger. Jim was nearly a man now, and he looked so much like his father. But it was so hard-- hard to be a widow because of this war. Hard to have to till the hard ground, and put clothes on her child's back, and to be pitied by her family and town. She would not be a pauper, but what choice did she have?

This war kept dragging on, ruining more and more lives. Betty was tired of this war. All her fervor, her anger at the tyranny of monarchy was spent. She wished this war had never happened. It had all been a mistake. All she wanted was a future where her children could grow up in peace, free from these continual sorrows and this endless war. If she could find peace under a king, so be it. She was done with the horrors of war.
 
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