Redcoats on the Red Clay Soils: An America Without Washington

[Oliveia]

Prologue:
Not a European War.
9th of July, 1755
---
" But [General Braddock] had too much self-confidence, too high an opinion of the validity of regular troops, and too mean a one of both Americans and Indians."
-Benjamin Franklin, "A Vain Remonstrance with General Braddock"*

​

The almost fifty year-old diplomat was speaking to General Braddock. The latter, a rather smart dashing man, was explaining his plans for his battalion. Gesticulating some, he told with grandeur the plans he had: first would come Fort Duquesne, then Niagara, then finally Frontenac. There would be, he evidently believed, be either little resistance or not enough to deal with his over thousand-troop expedition. The diplomat, Benjamin Franklin, was hesitant. “To ask for pardon, General, I do not believe that this is the most ideal of positions for our armies - as great as they are,” Franklin tried to explain. He coughed awkwardly, before continuing: “You see, I have read countless times of similar encounters, be it Frenchmen or colonists, and what Indians have done is things of trickery; they could, for example, pick off soldiers one-by-one.” The response of the General was a nonchalant laugh. He pats the back of Franklin: “Aye, these savages may, indeed, be a formidable enemy to your raw American militia, but upon the king’s regular and disciplined troops, sir, it is impossible they should make any impression.” He laughed again, and Franklin remained silent. He opened his mouth to respond, before shutting it and nodding, giving a feeble “Yes, General” before retreating back into line.

Fortunately, Franklin’s predictions were wrong.

Unfortunately, the French-and-Indian forces were somehow cleverer than that. For a detachment that had moved ahead, headed by Thomas Gage, had entered fire with French and Native forces. Braddock’s men, hearing sounds of conflict, hastened their march. Gage’s detachment retreated into Braddock’s forces, and both fell into chaos. Despite attempts to order the chaos, the volleys from within the wilderness left nobody safe. If one were to have looked at the combat, they would have seen a flurry of soldiers, confused and disorderly; they would have seen generals and higher-ups desperate in their attempts to rally troops and follow orders. They would have seen General Braddock get shot and still giving orders while wounded; they would have seen generals screaming these orders before themselves getting shot, and the third of the Braddock's troops remaining retreating. And, if they looked long enough, they would have seen George Washington's body among those littered across the wilderness, and if they stayed for longer they might even have seen him being scalped.

​

Thus was Braddock's defeat.

Thus was Washington's death.

Thus was the moment that history changed.​

​

---
*Actual quote by Benjamin Franklin. Most events recorded here are approximations of the actual Braddock's Defeat. The quotes won't always be real, so I'll note when they are real.
---​

Alright, I've had some iteration of this idea existing for a fair while now, but it took until a couple days back for me to get inspired enough to write it out. This is my first non-graphics based timeline (to some degree), and as such it's probably not up to par with most other timelines on here. I do hope you enjoy, though!
-Bennett

​

 

[Oliveia]

Chapter 1:
Tea, Taxes, and Revolution
---
"I am convinced the Presbyterians intend nothing less than the throwing off their allegiance and obedience to his Majesty, & forming a Republican Empire, in America, & being Lords and Masters themselves."
-John Hughes, Philadelphian Tax Collector, Speaker of the Pennsylvania Provincial Assembly, and friend to Benjamin Franklin and Joseph Galloway

​

The political standing of the Thirteen Colonies were rather interesting; despite what might be implied, the Thirteen Colonies were functionally independent from the Crown: many were founded to be purposefully separate from England (such as Massachusetts Bay, founded by religious exiles), or were under effective control by something akin to its own monarchy (as was the case for Pennsylvania, run by the Penn family). However, in the aftermath of the Seven Years' War, this began to change. The Crown had nearly doubled its debts in a heavily taxing and tumultuous war, one that had secured British hegemony in North America, but at a cost - literally.

The first major issue was life, especially of those in the North American colonies; following the annexation of the East of the Mississippi, settlers had begun to build settlements in the region. The Natives, who benefited from positive relations with France, were dismayed by the more uncaring stance of Great Britain. To deal with the increased demand of colonization of the interior, the British drafted the Royal Proclamation of 1763, designed to create a line through which colonization would not occur until a point where Britain was more financially secure. This "proclamation line" was seen as a malignant act by the colonists; this was among the first of offenses that the colonists perceived to have been placed against them by Great Britain.

The second of these was taxation.

Following the Seven Years' War, the British required money to reduce their enormous debt. To this end, their vision shifted overseas to the Thirteen Colonies. These taxes were present in Great Britain as well, but were decidedly foreign for the American colonists. The autonomy that they had practiced before the Seven Years' War was slowly being replaced; first were taxes on sugar, then came the quartering of British troops in American settlements (regardless of consent), followed swiftly by a tax on all paper products. To each new tax came an increasingly stronger push against them. Perhaps the most prominent of this push-back came in the form of the Sons of Liberty, a pseudo-terrorist organization responsible for the destruction of the buildings of tax collectors, the tar-and-feathering of tax collectors, and other related acts. The Sons of Liberty argued that they could not be taxed like British citizens if they were not treated as equals to British citizens - "No taxation without representation," in the words of James Otis.

It took until the taxation of tea for the situation to escalate.

On the night of December 16th, 1773, the Sons of Liberty stormed British East India Company ships in the Boston Harbor, before destroying the 342 chests of tea located on the three ships into the Harbor. The British responded with the Intolerable Acts, a piece of legislation that stripped the Massachusetts Bay Colony its right to self-governance. Further, it gave the Province of Quebec a large holding of the Ohio River Valley, the land that the French and Indian War was fought over and that the Thirteen Colonies wanted to settle.

If the incidents leading up to the American Revolution was a powder keg, then the Intolerable Acts were the matches that set it ablaze: the colonies doubled down in their protests following the silencing of Massachusetts Bay. A Provincial Congress was formed by the Massachusetts colonists, and it was in Massachusetts that the first shots of the War for Independence were shot: in Lexington and Concord.

---

Everything is still true to real-life so far. All quotes are actual quotes, and all events are actual events. Information might be wrong but hopefully isn't. The next chapter should be when things start to change.

 

[Oliveia]

Chapter 2:
Son of Massachusetts, and a Father of America
---
"Universally esteemed, beloved by his Nation & by his Army; he was a true Patriot."
-John Adams, "In Memoriam: Artemas Ward"

​

Artemas Ward was a distinguished man, and it makes sense as to why he would be put to charge of the fledgling Continental Army. A Harvard graduate, Ward held several political offices before being enlisted into the French and Indian War, where he earned the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel; it was this powerful combination of politician and well-seasoned military man that made him a notorious man within Massachusetts Bay.

During the 1760s, in light of increasing taxation on American goods, Ward was the second on the floor of the General Courts of the Massachusetts Bay to critique the oncoming wave of British taxation (the first to criticize these was James Otis); his regiment from the French and Indian War, the Third Regiment, approached him on the tides of revolution, having elected him to lead them. The Massachusetts Bay Committee of Safety, part of a system of safety committees who purposed themselves with forming anti-Royal shadow governments, titled Ward as the General and Commander-in-Chief of the Massachusetts Bay Militia.

Following the Battle of Lexington and Concord, revolutionary forces began to siege the City of Boston. Ward, sick and bedridden, gave orders while in bed and out of it once his condition improved. As militias from New Hampshire and Connecticut joined the Massachusetts Militia, they all were under order from Ward. During the Siege of Boston, Ward did not work alone; by his side was General Prescott (who died in Bunker Hill, during the Siege), and General Putnam.

Ward and the so-called "Old Put" became fast friends and allies due to their cooperation in Boston. Though this seems odd, comparing their contrasting personalities - Ward with his stoic, stern and powerful voice and temperament, and Putnam with his loud, boisterous, and practically populist ways. Both would amass massive amounts of respect over the course of the Revolution - be it Ward for his personal sacrifice and dedication towards achieving an independent America, or for Old Put, known for commanding his armies from the front and taking damage with it.

The Continental Congresses were the political end of the Revolution. While the common man fought, the educated man plotted; while Bostonians forced a British evacuation, the Congress planned for Independence, and so on; even though the idea of a Continental Army was proposed in the First Congress, it was largely dismissed. Now, however, it was wartime, and it was certainly needed now. The major question that rang out was who would run this army, and eyes were drawn towards the clever, experienced Massachusettsian who was seen as a symbol of the revolutionary movement. To ensure the loyalty of the dissimilar Southern Colonies, Charles Lee was selected as the Second-in-Command of the Continental Army; throughout most of the Revolution, Lee would focus on the Southern Theater of the Revolution, while Ward focused on the Northern Theater. The two would overlap, but not too often. Putnam was also placed as a major player of the Continental Army - a Major General. The amount of major generals would increase over the course of the war, and came to include foreign individuals such as von Steuben and Lafayette.

---

A/N: The War has now fully begun! I probably won't tackle too much of Ward's campaigns, but I will talk about a couple theaters which will be fundamentally different than real life.

 

[Oliveia]

Chapter 3:
A Geechee in the Halls of America
10th of May, 1776
---
"Regardless of all the political background and debate, we all know that it was that damned child that started it all."
-Andrew Jackson, "An Address to those Unfortunate Southron States"

​

The Second Continental Congress was gathered in Philadelphia. The talk of independence, spurred by Thomas Paine's "Common Sense," was becoming increasingly common on the streets. However, the discussion of independence was still a fiery debate in the halls of Congress, with some colonies even threatening to walk out of the Congress at several points due to it. It was on one day, the tenth of May, where a guard entered State House and simply stated the following: "There is a young Negro boy by the entrance. He states he simply wants to talk to the... erm... juntlemun frum duh House."

At this imitation, a few of the Congressmen chuckled lightly. Benjamin Franklin, just recently entering his seventieth year of life, coughed before politely asking to speak to this "Negro boy." The guard nodded, and stepped aside as Franklin stood, sighed for a second, and lumbered slowly outside. Once he did, he sat on the steps of State House and looked at the young boy in front of him. He wore clean, new clothes and had the shining face of any optimistic child. He looked to be no older than fourteen, and he shook his curly-haired head in recognition.

Franklin smiled calmly. "What brings you here, young boy?" was the first question he asked. The boy nodded, before answering that he had come because of "My farruh, he duh say dat duh smaa't-est juntlemun come'yuh." Franklin, though definitely not fluent in Gullah, was generally able to follow what the boy said. "I'm glad to hear your father thinks us smart men," he responded, smiling, "what do you want to do here, if I may ask?"
"Ah! Come'yah duh tell'um warruh freedum meanin'."
"I see. Why do you think you know the meaning of freedom, if I may ask?"
"My farruh."
"Hm?"
"My farruh, he gimme freedum. He gone'way duh Pennsylvania duh w'uk duh git my fambly freedum. Gone'way 'fo' binnun bawn en he come back w'en he git 'nuf dolluh duh gimme freedum. He duh say he gwine back duh plantation w'en he git mo' dolluh 'fo' Maamy."
"Hm... I see," the older man responded, pondering for a second. He brightened suddenly, announcing kindly that "I'm sure the men of the Congress would not mind at all to hear your words, young man."
"T'engky, suh!"

To the bystanders in the Congress, they saw Benjamin Franklin hobble outside, only to return perhaps five minutes later being accompanied by a young black man, the latter offering the former support. As Franklin returned to his seat, he simply explained the encounter between himself and the black man as "The boy wishes to speak, and I suggest we let him." Some in the Congress asked for the dismissal of the intruder, but this was stopped when the stark, clear voice of Thomas Jefferson simply stated "I agree with Franklin."

The young boy stood timidly in front of the Congress, but began his speech anyways (written in English for convenience):

"I was born without knowing my father. All I knew was that he moved north to Pennsylvania to work; he had his freedom and he needed to buy me and my mother's freedom. That word was, in my age, one that was unknown. No man had ever spoken it to me, and the question built inside of me. One day, I asked my mother what freedom was. She looked down at me, smiled, and said that it was the better life. I didn't quite get what that meant then. As I grew up on the plantation, between long hours of picking cotton, I heard stories from the Bible - the one that stuck with me the most was the story of Moses.

Moses brought the Jews to freedom, didn't he? He went to the Egyptians and asked -- no, demanded -- that his people be free. I had heard the tale, sometimes told by another slave with mourning or longing. But still, I didn't quite know what freedom was. I couldn't understand such a difficult-to-grasp concept, especially with no taste of that mystifying word: freedom.

I worked and toiled in the fields waiting for that word, and it came in the form of a large Negro fellow walking into the plantation, walking into the Master's manor, a violent exchange of words, and a peaceful agreement; the money my father had earned would only count for me, despite it being the asking price the Master had placed for both of us. He shook my hand, and began the trek back to Pennsylvania.

Once we entered the City of Philadelphia, I realized what it meant to be free. I still had stuff I needed to do, but this was a mutual thing. I wasn't at whip's-end to do my tasks, I did them because they were my choice, and there was -- is -- a guarantee that the other person would do such a thing for me.

I would love to see the colonies become free. I may not know what a colony is exactly, but to my thinking, they are a lot like slaves: forced into action through threat, as opposed by choice.

If freedom is so great for me, it is so great for these colonies."

Such were the words of a simple boy, at least, these were the notes documented and compiled by the testimony of several Congressmen who attended the event. Nothing beyond this testimony remains of this boy; it is unknown who he was, and what happened to him. Some suggested he became a local politician, though the testimony which led to this is questionable. This speech, entitled the "Freedom Speech," had an immense impact on the history of the United States, and was absorbed quickly into the American Mythology. It has been said that "no moderate left the halls that day believing in the institution of slavery," though this is an exaggeration. Though the impact of these speech changed many Congressmen, it did not create a radically abolitionist Congress. This event, however, served as a kicking-off point for abolition in the post-Revolutionary social conscious, and it was this debate and discourse that forced the hand of one Andrew Jackson, decades down the line.

Needless to say, the Freedom Speech was incredibly integral to the future of the United States in multiple key ways - be it politically, demographically, etc.

---

A/N: Perhaps hinted a bit too much in terms of the future of this United States, but that doesn't matter quite yet. It was an... interesting experience attempting (and totally, completely butchering) the Gullah language. Glad I finally got this one out! ​

 

[Oliveia]

Chapter 4:
Redcoats on the Red Clay Soils, Part 1
---
"I care not what is done to deal with those Colonists, so long as Wealth is preserved for the Crown."
-Purported remarks by Lord North, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, in light of the Declaration of Independence

​

"'Secure the spice!' That goddamned bastard North up in Britain!" cried Henry Clinton. Though originally stationed in Boston while the city was in turmoil, he was relocated into the Carolinas while the British were forced to evacuate the city. From there, he was to stay in the Southern colonies, and try to amp up Royalist morale whilst defending from Patriot excursions. According to one note from the higher-ups, his duty was to "secure the cities and ignore the rebels" - orders so contradictory that Clinton felt anguished for weeks. On occasion, his soldiers would hear him raving to himself, groaning about how "Lord North knows damn nothing!"

For a majority of the opening phases of the American War of Independence, Clinton was stationed in Charles' Town, South Carolina; it was presumed to be the major center of loyalist activity; in reality, the so-called "Jerusalem of Slavery" was between neutral and somewhat malevolent in respect to the Crown, due to the passing of vaguely abolitionist laws in England proper. However, this loathing never surfaced itself to much beyond talk behind closed doors, or perhaps a few protests outside of British lodging. The situation in Charles' Town was miserable for all parties involved - the British who wanted to return home, the Caroliners who wanted to stop worrying about the British, the closeted Patriots who wanted to revolt, and the moderates who wanted this all to end.

It was, in part, the conglomeration of moderates who moved out into the frontiers of the Southern colonies. This movement, called the Frontier Exodus, manifested in the Carolinas and Virginia, where colonists moved into swaths of territory to proclaim the Transylvania Colony, an entity whose purpose was, to quote from its declaration of colony, "the continuation of Peaceable, Amicable, and otherwise Peaceful relations between those who Migrated from the North- & South-Carolinas as well as the Colony of Virginia, and the British Crown." The British Crown, hoping to profit off of the potential agricultural industries of the region, was incredibly willing to recognize the legitimacy of the Transylvania Colony. This recognition further enraged the Thirteen Colonies, particularly North Carolina and Virginia. However, despite this recognition, the British refused to negotiate the land treaties between Transylvania and the Native Americans who inhabited the region (particularly the Shawnee and Cherokee Nations).

The Frontier Exodus didn't just impact the moderate population, but also the more radical elements of Southern society - several so-called "Liberty Caravans" constructed settlements on the borders between Transylvania Colony and the colonies of Virginia and North Carolina. Members of the British militia, too, were known to have secretly resigned their office by fleeing into the wilderness. However, the Frontier Exodus did not massively effect the populations of Virginia and North Carolina, with the new Colony being sparsely populated; as such, it was deemed unimportant by both the British and Patriots.

Under the command of Continental General Artemas Ward, the decision was made to divide the war effort into several different departments, with each of these being headed by a major general local to the region, or based off of request. It was this system that brought Major General Charles Lee into the Southern fray; though he was far more experienced, the Continental Congress had refused to give him the position with pay. He was, however, able to find compromise with Continental General Ward, who had agreed to give him some financial aid for his service (it was to be said, of course, that said pay was minimal both in quantity and quality); despite this, the eccentric and raunchy Lee had found himself with a particular dilemma in terms of the war effort - this being it's lack of action. The British had decided that, with minimal efforts of the Army, the revolutionary fire in the Americas would die out; as such, the British seemed to have fortified themselves into the Southern Colonies, and while progress was being made in the northern theaters, Lee saw particularly nothing occur. By the late months of 1776, he was desperate to see any form of action beyond the occasional Patriot raids.

Such actions spawned from Paine, the wordsmith who spoke the Revolution into a fury, with the publication of "The American Crisis."

---

A/N: Welp, finally cranked this bad larry out. It's not the greatest, but I feel fairly proud of it; I'll work on editing the last chapter and most likely bits of this one over the course of a couple days, and then we're onto Chapter 5! Hope you're enjoying this!

 

[Oliveia]

Chapter 5:
A Benedictine Excursion
---
"And O Colonel Arnold, praise the Liberator of our land!"
-Line from Praise Ontario, the state anthem of Ontario.

​

"That goddamned bastard" was all Benedict Arnold had to say on the affair - this being the Capture of Fort Ticonderoga. Colonel Arnold was forced to cooperate with Commander Ethan Allen of the Green Mountain Boys - a group of individuals who wished to see the independence of the Grants: a region of conflicting claims between New York and New Hampshire. Although the two men were vastly different, they were similar in one front - their undying need for recognition; although Arnold was not sure as to what Allen wanted with wealth and fame and notoriety (other than to, obviously, spite him), Arnold sure as hell knew why he needed it.

Arnold was raised by a talented businessman of a father, who derailed following the deaths of his siblings - and, seemingly because God hated Benedict Arnold with the fiery passion He used in smiting the Egyptians, the alcoholic nature of his father drove his family destitute and left Arnold to be apprenticed by family friends. In business, Arnold excelled, but he was a simple sort of man: a materialistic one, and due to this he eventually became bankrupt; not helping his case was the fact that rumors spread of his bankruptcy, furthering his loss of profits. This was the stem of his desire for promotion - which, in a normal situation, brought with it higher pay as well as fame.

However, this was far from a normal situation.

"The Congress is so in the shit they could hardly pay for a pebble on this street" Arnold mumbled to himself; the ride to the headquarters of Continental General Ward was as long as it was bumpy, but it gave Arnold time to process things. Again and again, he had to reaffirm to himself that his wife was dead. She was dead now. She had died while he was in Ticonderoga. Damn Ticonderoga. Arnold was adamant that he had done just as much - no, more than Allen in aiding the British surrender at Ticonderoga. Everything went well there because of him. Yet here he was, promoted with Allen like that filthy bastard wasn't an attention-grubbing little-

This monologue continued in his mind as he entered to speak with Continental General Ward. The imposing head of the army, still recovering from illness, was somewhat of weaker constitution than one would expect of the head of such important matters; despite his illness, though, Ward remained cunning and able to assist in all manners (except physically, for the time being). When Arnold approached, Ward seemed to tense a bit, before simply stating "I hope this has nothing to do with your promotions, or whatever occurred in Ticonderoga."

Swallowing his pride, Arnold shook his head. "No, sir, it has naught to do with Ticonderoga; instead, I would wish to request a division of men."

"Where to and for?"

"To Quebec, in order to liberate the province from Britain and to increase our support, sir. I have information leading me to believe there be less than a thousand-odd men in the entirety of the province, and those estimates are generous, sir. I am confident in my ability to prove myself in this theater, sir."

Ward paused, thinking, before continuing: "How will these men get there?"

"We deploy from Newburyport, in Massachusetts; from there we migrate north into Maine, and station camp along the Kennebec River; preferably in any fort stationed along this river, sir. There we will station for a fortnight, and then continue into the Province. I am told that investigation has already been done in terms of what is in Quebec, sir?"

"Yes, and there are troops who are going to head into the Province soon, I trust you will be able to cooperate?" stated Ward, seemingly not forgetting about Ticonderoga.

"Yes, sir."

It was by some miracle that Ward let Arnold fulfill his campaign; perhaps it was out of pity, or perhaps it was because the British efforts in the Northern colonies were still lacking, and that the Patriots needed to take as much as they could before Lord North came to his senses. Regardless, here Arnold was, commanding a thousand-plus men.

---

The weather in Maine was not pleasant, and many feared that the weather in Quebec would be worse yet. Despite this, Arnold seemed convinced that his movements into the Province was some form of divine order, for every day he attempted to motivate his troops into continuing their expedition northward. His conversations with his other Quebec-bound compatriots showed that Arnold was beginning to slow the war effort down. It was on one of these days that a messenger hurried into camp, before announcing that "The British are attempting to recapture Fort Ticonderoga! They have been held off so far, but those in charge of overseeing the protection of the Fort fear that their defenses will crack.

Arnold was horrified: Ticonderoga was a decisive location, and such a location was far from an ideal thing for the British to have over the Americans. As such, he begrudgingly informed his fellow collaborators of his departure, and moved to the Grants. Arnold's forces, able to protect Ticonderoga without major difficulty, were now several states off from where they wanted to be. Arnold, in a moment of clarity, asked for a map, and simply said "We will go to Detroit."

​

The movement of Arnold's troops was purposeful - attack the British forts through the practically empty Ontario Peninsula, perhaps deal with several Indian villages, regroup and then go for Fort Detroit. Instead, the American forces were repelled from Fort Frontenac, before marching to Fort Douville. There, Arnold was able to overpower the undermanned fort. He marched next to Fort Niagara, which proved itself too heavily guarded to capitulate. From Niagara, he moved his troops into the wilderness of Ontario, where he forced them to set up camp for a couple weeks.

This period seemed to bring a better sentiment out of Arnold. He contributed on hunting excursions, shared stories with his troops in the evenings, helped devise the arrangements of the fort, appropriately becoming the future capital city of Ontario, Arnold (approximately the location of Chatham-Kent in real life). In his own journals, he wrote "I feel a weight off of my Shoulders - out in the Wilderness I am a New Man; I have no Debts, I have no Rank, I am a man with men." It was this new, friendlier Arnold who pushed his troops to Detroit, before recruiting a local band of sympathetic Indians and marching back to Fort Niagara, this time winning. From there, Arnold raised several Iroquois settlements - distinctly ones of those tribes who joined the British. From there his men marched to Fort Presque Isle.

Following the annexation of Fort Presque Isle, Arnold dismissed a majority of his unit. Assigning Lieutenant-Colonel Roger Enos in command of these troops, he reportedly said "Do with these men whatever is best for freedom - my men and I will continue liberation to the best of our God-given abilities; we know not how many forts lay in the Ohio Country, but there may be Brits in there yet.

---

It was a cloudy day for Continental General Ward. In the year that had passed, his health had improved greatly, and he had again returned to a physical presence to his troops; this coincided well with the increased British war effort in the Colonies, and further allowed Ward to correspond with foreign generals such as Lafayette and von Steuben, both tasked their own troops and were responsible for creating a consistent training regime for the rookie American troops.

From his quarters, he heard a knock. He hesitated for a moment, but finally opened the door.

A familiar, albeit haggard, fellow approached. He had a beard, tangled hair, and his clothes a hodgepodge of British and American elements. He walked with a limp and in one hand he gripped a long stick - presumably used for a cane.

"Ah, Continental General Ward. I would wish to report a new American fort, sir."

"And this may be?"

"Good Lord, have I changed that much?" he laughed a good, long laugh. "Benedict Arnold, sir. Do you wish to share a beer? I can show you the location of this fort."

"I heard last that you became a wildman out in the Ohio, Arnold."

"Aye, so you did, so you did. I would damn say 'wildman' is a harsh word, but say it they shall."

"So, what is this fort?"

"A great location, I assure you. It's perfectly 'long the Maumee River, only a short ride 'way from Lake Erie - I named it Fort Margaret."

"I see, I see. Tell me more of your 'wildman' expeditions in the Interior."

"It would be my pleasure, Ward. Say, sir?"

"Yes?"

"What's that bastard Allen up to these days?"

---

A/N: Welp, this chapter came out really nice! I'm proud with how everything came out with it, and it's solidly a lot longer than I expected!

 

[Oliveia]

Chapter 6:
Southron Smoke: AKA, Redcoats on the Red Clay Soils, Part 2
---
"[Lord North is] the blundering pilot who has brought the nation into its present difficulties ... Lord Chatham, the King of Prussia, nay, Alexander the Great, never gained more in one campaign than the noble lord has lost—he has lost a whole continent."
- Charles James Fox

​

It was mid-September, 1777. This was, for better or worse, an intense period of the American Revolution. For the British, Lord North was an embarrassment - a man who, previous to the American Revolution, showed himself to be a masterful diplomat. Despite this, however, it appeared that he severely underestimated the stubbornness of American patriots. He had figured that, giving the colonists a few months of little interference up north, that they would eventually come to realize the error of their ways, and mild significantly; or, otherwise, fall into significant infighting. However, as the war continued to progress over the course of years, North's visions failed to occur: he had lost New England to the revolutionary cause, as well as not insignificant chunks of the Middle Colonies (including the Chesapeake Colonies). Though his platform of "secure the spice" had died down by the end of winter in 1777, his new offensive maneuvers, though certainly both laudable and an improvement on earlier policy, were neither enough to win major battles against the colonists, nor enough to regain the trust of his peers.

However, this British disdain of Lord North reached its boiling point in the Transylvania Crisis. It began with a request by the Colony of Transylvania for a detachment of British troops, citing a multitude of Cherokee raids into settlements, often leading to brutal massacres or the burning of these settlements. A British general, hearing this request, sent letters of permission to the then-Secretary of State for the Southern Department, Thomas Thynne. In response, the Marquess of Bath responded with the following letter:

"...It is, frankly & Truly, of absolute No Concern to me the State & Affairs of those Impoverished Souls in the Colony of Transylvania. The Consensus here in Britain is that the Cheroke [sic], being far more Affluent and additionally, as Indians, far more At Peace with other peoples Akin to them, are more Important to us Brittons [sic] than any Transylvanian Colonist."

However, much to the detriment of both Thynne and North (whose ministry hosted Thynne as the Secretary for the Southern Department), this letter was leaked. How it got leaked is still a subject of debate among scholars, but the common consensus was that, somewhere along the chain of letter delivery, there was a Patriot spy who leaked the letter to incentivise revolutionary behavior in the Transylvania Colony. Regardless of how the letter came to public attention, it caused an eruption in the colony. Several weeks after the affair, on May 2nd, 1777, the Colony of Transylvania declared itself independent of the United Kingdom, and sent representative John Sevier to the Continental Congress. Sevier had been sympathetic to the Revolution, but upon the de facto annexation of the Watauga Association (an autonomous community formed in 1772) into the Colony of Transylvania, Sevier saw it more fit to try to hold neutrality for the sake of the colony. Now that the colony had severed itself from the Crown, he saw to it that he would try to take charge of Transylvanian affairs.

John Sevier
​

The creation of this new "Free State of Transylvania" saw with it cries of outrage from the British. The Parliament, the heart of this outrage, pushed for a motion of no-confidence on Lord North. On September 15th, 1777, it was voted, overwhelmingly (298-151), that the House did not have confidence in both Lord North and his ministry. As a result, the Government was disbanded. This disbandment, though, served as a poor decision for the British in the long run.

Upon the realization that the North Ministry had been dissolved, and while King George III chose who would form the next government, the British military in the Thirteen (now Fourteen) Colonies rejoiced. For some, such as Henry Clinton, the resignation of the North Ministry saw with it a window of opportunity, and after a day of festivities, his soldiers partook in what was called "Clinton's March" - a series of violent attacks on important coastal cities in the Southern colonies. The most violent of these attacks were in Virginia, who saw many of her coastal cities ravaged and burnt.

The Burning of Suffolk, 1777
​

However, a majority of Clinton's men (including Clinton himself), were killed before they could successfully attack Williamsburg, Virginia. Several miles outside of the city, Major General Lee intercepted the troops with his own army, and were successful in their mission to kill or otherwise disrupt as much of Clinton's army as possible. Furthermore, Lee and his men were invigorated by their victory, and planned their next choices of action:

The American Revolution was headed southward, far after much of the North was secured.

---
A/N: Finally out! Was feeling some burnout, but hopefully it wasn't too bad!! There are a couple of... well... convenient things that are going to go well in America's favor in the coming chapters (but hopefully not too many!), including an early trashing of the Articles of Confederation. That will probably be within the next couple chapters. Beyond that, I should gladly welcome another real quote! Been awhile without one. Added a few more pictures to this one, too.

 

[Oliveia]

Redcoats Announcement!!:
Alright, so we're at the point where there are a couple of options for what Chapter 7 could be on, and as such I want to know what you - my readers - would want to see out of Redcoats! If you need further explanation, just ask.
Thanks in advance!!
---
RESULTS:
(Note: Roles of some figures in the poll -- mostly Hamilton -- will probably have changed roles than what they were advertised as.)

 

[Oliveia]

Chapter 7:
The American Miracle, Part 1
---
"That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government."
- Thomas Jefferson, "The Declaration of Independence"
.
"We are within a Broken System -- the Articles of Confederation, as they now stand, are Nothing More than ideals. They are the Birthchild of Thinkers and Philosophers, not Politicians. Due to this, Our Nation is doomed to fail -- It is NECESSARY for a Convention to be held, not to aid Virginia, nor North-Carolina; nay, this is a Convention necessary to aid the Union itself."
- Patrick Henry, First Governor of Virginia, "A Petition for Amending"

Flag of the United States of America, as decided in the Constitutional Convention of 1779.
​

Patrick Henry sighed, rubbing his temples. The southern half of Virginia was a smoldering pile of ash, and nothing was happening. He had petitioned the Continental Congress for the Congress (as an organ of the Articles of Confederation) to collect taxes that would go into the restoration of Virginia and North Carolina, a state which was in a similar situation as Virginia, though on a far grander level. While cooperating with Governor Richard Caswell of North Carolina, they waited for their financial aid to come. The response they received was the lingering smell of burning cities accompanied by the pathetic jingle of spare change: that is to say, they received little pay. And it wasn't because of a lack of signatures to the Articles of Confederation -- though many states were hesitant on signing, the Articles had attracted ten signatures (with New Jersey and Transylvania beginning the process of ratification). Of these ten states, only South Carolina and Georgia sent any aid towards the cause, and this aid was (mostly due to the effective British control of the regions) inefficient. This inspired a fervor in both Henry and Caswell, who traveled to Philadelphia to address President Henry Laurens.

The Presidential Palace -- formerly owned by the Penn Family, it was eventually repurposed as housing for the President of the Continental Congress.
.

Fifth President of the Continental Congress, Henry Laurens
​

The June heat was nothing short of miserable. Men, horses, and the street sweated. Henry and Caswell stood in the doorway of the Presidential Palace, knocking on the door. The two men had never shared a close bond, but the solidarity over both the destruction of important cities and the lack of financial aid in said situations had united them. Henry wiped his forehead, though he knew sweat would reappear almost instantly. "Mr. Caswell," he began, "how do you think this meeting will go?"

"I have, with all due respect, no ideas in this matter. Believe me, this is far from the first time I've had to debate a gentleman."

"Do you believe it will come down to that? A debate?"

Caswell offered a short shrug, giving a quick chuckle. "Was this what you expected to do, one day down the road, all the way back when those first shots fired?"

Henry sighed, turning to sit on the steps of the Palace. "I'm... not sure, to be frank. It is easy, I feel, to give some form of support. It is easy to say 'give me liberty or give me death' when we were stuck in a system that did not want us. The British, no matter how hard they try to grapple for their dominance in America, it feels obvious that they do not want us in their system."
"And how, if I may ask, is that related to this predicament?"

"We are no longer in such a plainly obvious system -- well, we are: the redcoats still cling to the South and to New York -- but this is a more divisive system. This is a system outside of two options; this is no longer a choice between Liberty and Death, instead between liberties. We are now going to have to ask, I believe, how much liberty is required."

"I believe I see where you are coming from. But what do you mean by how much liberty? Surely the answer is 'all,' is it not?"

"I suppose, but," Henry pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing a bit. He thought silently for a moment, before continuing: "people deserve liberty -- they deserve Freedom, most assuredly, but... they also have obligations, no? Maybe that's the damned problem with this new system we've crafted ourselves: permanent liberties without authority to enforce the obligations that come with those liberties."

Both men heard some stirring from behind them, and turned to see President Laurens in the open doorframe. He looked knowingly at the two men, "Men, I believe you found for yourselves the problem with all of this. Come inside."

---

The meeting between Patrick Henry, Richard Caswell, and Henry Laurens eventually spiraled into widespread debate in the Halls of Congress. The Continental Congress was, to some degree, best described as a lovechild of unrelenting philosophers. These thinking men would, almost constantly, butt heads in an attempt to show ideological dominance. This meant that, while blood was spilt in Manhattan or in the Carolinas, words flew between Congressmen. Over the remainder of the year, the Congress began to squabble over the many "ifs" of a complete renovation of the Articles of Confederation -- some decried such amendments as necessary, others as evil, and still others with neutrality. New Jersey and Transylvania stalled their ascension into the Confederation, and on the early days of January 1779, the representatives prepared to vote.

Voting as per the Continental Congress was a relatively simple affair -- every state had but a single vote, and unanimous consent was needed to hold a convention. Miraculously, over the course of approximately a week, the votes trickled in:

Agreement to amend the Articles of Confederation was unanimous, with all ten votes being to hold the convention.

---

A/N: I'm going to have this be, for lack of a better term, the "part one" to this series of chapters (going to be two-three chapters). This is a bit of a new style, though I like it a bit better. Apologies for splitting this chapter up, I did it mostly for convenience's sake: Let the political discourse of the Continental Congress begin!!

 

[Oliveia]

Many apologies!! Put this on the backburner for awhile too long. Chapter 8, A War of Words (The American Miracle, Part 2) will be coming out soon! Here's some miscellaneous graphics to keep y'all sated.

The Presidential Manor, 1799.

Presidential Manor in 2007.

Emergency Capital, located in what is now known as Liberty Fort, a federal territory in New Jersey. 1800.​

 

[Oliveia]

Chapter 8 (Redux):
A War of Words, Part II

"These hardy knaves and stupid fools / Some apish and pragmatic mules, / Some servile acquiescing tools,— / These, these compose the Congress. "
-Poem written during the Constitutional Convention
.
"You bring with you the Tidings of Britain: stinginess, and deception. I bring with me the traits of America: bickering, squabbling, yet the air of independence."
-Benjamin Franklin, during the signing of the Treaty of Paris

---
June 15, 1780*

​

For a group of individuals so named, it was remarkable how the Founding Fathers were terrible at founding a new nation, and indeed how nearly incompetent they were at fathering this new nation. The members of the Constitutional Convention seemed far more concerned with battles of moral superiority, fighting a war of words, as opposed to one of independence. Each man came with a mission in his heart...

And James Madison was a man like any other. So here he stood in the hot, sticky Philadelphian summer air, the windows of Pennsylvania State House shut to avoid the putrid fumes of the streets or the raucous cries of prisoners across the street. He sat down in the Hall and waited. The Convention was to be held on that day. So he sat and waited.

As the first hour ticked by, Madison wiped sweat from his brow, standing at the front of the Assembly Room and repeating some speech or other. When a word came out wrong, he begun from the start once more. He played with his emphasis, with how his words flowed. And yet no man showed. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he began ranting to himself. "These damned fools," he muttered to himself, "what is there more important than this? Fools and bastards, that lot, I swear..."

That night, he slept in the local bar after a generous helping of beer. He would repeat this routine for about a week before Congressmen slowly ambled their way into Philadelphia. Men with rowdy hearts, men who were stern, men marched in with backs straight as a rod were followed by beer-breathed men with hunched backs; misogynists and loving husbands; slave-holders and abolitionists; Bible-wielders and deists. One by one and two by two they slowly showed up to the Halls of Congress. Eventually, over half of a month, Congress Assembled was considered assembled enough to actually begin its process.

"Men of Congress!" began Madison. The congressmen gave a dissatisfied look at the small man standing before them. The secretary, William Temple Franklin (grandson of Benjamin Franklin), began writing with the kind of duty a young adult with four-odd years of experience would have, as Madison continued. "Men of Congress!" he repeats, "We are gathered today -- and for many days more -- to dedicate ourselves in mind and body in the task before us -- the task of creating a document which will rectify our people, our states, et cetera," he continued. After giving another couple minutes of speech, he gave a bow, muttered a practically unheard "Thank you," and returned to his seat to an equally small and practically unheard round of applause. And thus, the Constitutional Convention started.

And, just as quickly, the progress of the Convention halted. The group of dozens of men was like a locomotive, with each man acting as some pebble in its wheel or cog in its machinery. The first major factions sprung up like a phoenix from the flame. On one side was the Virginianites, headed by Madison; their gospel was the so-named "Virginia Plan," a pseudo-parliamentary system which sought to scrap the Articles of Confederation and place in its stead a system in which the Congress was strengthened, its seats a matter of proportion -- say, about five for Virginia, two or three for a smaller state like... New Jersey.

To which the "Jerseyites" cried blasphemy. Though the movement, and later the "New Jersey Plan" itself, was led by Judge Paterson of New Jersey, the real firebrand of the movement was one Luther Martin -- another politician dedicated to the plights of the smaller states -- particularly the two he was from, Maryland and New Jersey. He spoke with loud words and a breath made stale with alcohol. Though by the end of the Convention he was little more than a confused man with a bottle in hand, in the critical first months of the Convention, he spent his afternoons using his throat to hurl insults to the larger states, and in the mornings and nights he used it to down beer. "We did not usurp monarchs," he cried passionately one day, "to become monarchs once more! This Revolution was not one for a change of rulers -- a change in monarchs, a change in despots -- nay! This is a change in System, of Government, of how the people and their posterity will live!"

Of course, there were other major players, necessary for understanding how the final situation resolved itself. Gouverneur Morris was another instrumental player. A New York merchant, he was a gifted writer and vehemently pro-federalization. "America is that, America," he stated once, "it is -- or, at the very least, ought to be -- a single unit. A state matters not so long as they are united." Though Madison was far more in the style of "We The People," he considered Morris a veritable ally -- enough so that, when the ink of the Constitution was done and dry, it was ink that belonged to the feathered pen of Morris. Though the mantra of Morris and, to a lesser degree, Madison, was that of compromise, other Congressmen were not so believing. "We are within," Martin roared once, "a great battleground of ideals. Philosophies must be backed with words, such as how independence with swords and guns. And, if such a time come where our words will not do, it will instead be by the tips of swords!" Though there are records of some agitated Virginianite standing up with a hand in his pocket, order soon rang out.

Benjamin Franklin, the philosophical "First American," had been unanimously elected to be the head of the Congressional proceedings, and these proceedings were, in short... messy. "Madison," he wrote in his diary one night, "claims to be the Enemy of Factionalism, yet it is he who has Crafted the most Devisive [sic] Split in this entire Damned Congress." It was enough of a situation that the famously deistic Franklin wrote in his diary, "I pray to God that we may one day decide how to run this country."

God, if He exists, answered in the form of Charles Pinckney. In the never-ending stream of entering-and-exiting Congressmen, Pinckney was an interesting fellow. Unlike Madison or Paterson, Pinckney was the heart, the brains, and the fire behind his beliefs.

"How old are you, Sir?" asked William Franklin, according to popular myth. "I am precisely 20 years, four fortnights, one week and a day old," replied the 23-year-old Picnkney, with a glint in his eye. Many a historian believe that Pinckney wanted to be remembered, though how he did was rather interesting, indeed.

The major voices of the three major Constitutional Factions: (L->R), Pinckney, Martin, Morris
​

Again there were others -- Adams of Massachusetts, the French-bound Jefferson who frantically wrote to Congress trying to figure out what was going on (to which they responded with meaningless statements on the confidentiality of the whole affair). The hot and sweaty months drove on when, in August, the aforementioned Pinckney strode into the House. He brought with him a plan, accounted for in detail from Franklin, but coincidentally obscured in the journals of Madison. The plan was, in essence, a measure of compromise: bicameral legislature, representing population (the original proposals being 1 representative per thousand Americans -- a plan that would have bloated the chamber significantly), and the set-number seats of an upper house (these called the House of Delegates and the Senate, respectively). These Houses of Congress would directly elect Presidents of Congress and the United States (which would be amended to instead be the direct election of the President during the Era of Good Feelings -- particularly spurred by the words of the paranoid President Clinton). But nonetheless, it served its purpose: a perfect compromise between the two sides.

Which is why it took tooth and nail for it to win the beliefs of both parties. It took months of sweat, of words and anger, of threats of violence and drunken nights, and ultimately of angry landlords and an impending British invasion.

The State Hall was, of course, the hall of both the Continental Congress and the Pennsylvania legislature. And the legislature of Pennsylvania wanted to, well, legislate, and the Continental Congress was occupying the Assembly Room. However, before relations became actively hostile, a slave from New York entered the House, telling Franklin of an oncoming British force prepared to invade Philadelphia. As such, a plan was devised: first, Congress Assembled would... reassemble in the state of New Jersey -- farther from the British invasion force. The state militias would be informed, of course, but the preservation of Congress was deemed more important. That way, all sides were satisfied: tired Congressmen could finally escape the defecate-laden streets of Philadelphia (only to migrate to the defecate-laden streets of Trenton in the Spring of 1781), and the Legislature of Pennsylvania could continue their meetings without accommodating for the Continental Congress.

---
*Pushed the date forward a little. Blame it on stubborn states and other such problems.
---

A/N: Not exactly what I was expecting, but here's the "new" chapter! I wanted to better replicate the chaotically disruptive energy of the Continental Congress of RL, and make it more divergent. I was mostly inspired by Kevin Bleyer's Me The People, which is a very fun read so far! There's also going to be a Part 3, now! This one will be more about the ratification process, and the acceptance of the "Masonic Amendments" (as in George Mason, not as in the Freemasons. We're not going in that direction!)
Thanks for being so patient!
-Bennett

 

[Oliveia]

Chapter 9:
Noveborac
---
"New York is a land of extremes -- the richest of elites in the City compared to the poorest of the poor in the North; the most corrupt politicians birthed from Tammany Hall to the most honest men in the valleys of Adirondack... The only thing tying these men together is the Hudson River. To control the Hudson River is to control all of New York."
- President DeWitt Clinton, "A Case for the Erie Canal"
.
"I have but one life to give for my country, but I have many bullets to fire in her defense."
- Alexander Hamilton, prominent military figure and future Vice President (under President John Adams)

​

New York was one of the last major British holdings south of Canada and north of the Southern Colonies. They clenched the Hudson River so tightly that it seemed impossible to liberate outside of through peace treaty. And so, following the original attempts by Ward and Old Put to capture New York City from the Redcoats ending in failure, the Continental Army scarcely touched the city. Near the end of the failed invasion, a fire -- likely arson -- ravaged the city, destroying a quarter of the city. As a result, the British officials forcibly occupied the upper-class housing, as soldiers set up infirmaries and barracks out of non-Anglican churches and places of worship. The citizens of the city were often bossed around sharply by the Redcoat occupiers, but the loyalists -- those who said "God Save the King" to the soldiers who stood, steely-faced and gripping their muskets as if their lives depended solely on the possession of them; those who sat in Anglican Church singing whatever Anglican hymns did or didn't exist; those who gave the soldiers expensive beers for cheap -- got let off the hook, as it were.

And this was the loophole that some Yankee sympathizers discovered.

Hamilton absolutely adored men like them.

Alexander Hamilton -- the bastard son discarded in the West Indies -- was a man of many things, but his most favorite title was that of a talented soldier, able to easily climb the ranks. And this was just what he did in New York. Skirmishes and skirmishes added on more and more recognition: he was smart, cunning, quick on his feet and quick to give orders. He had the voice of a politician, flame-like and explosive, and a mind of a philosopher -- sharp, quick, and insatiable in its search of knowledge. He had continued to fight for New York when America stopped, forming a partisan regiment calling themselves The Corsicans. However, when spoken about on the streets, it was to be referred to solely as "The Company" -- similar, but not identical to The Corsicans.

Oh, yes, hits had been placed on Hamilton many times, but that was the fun of it, was it not?

But yes, oh yes, espionage was a constant for The Corsicans. It was the seeing-eye-dog for the practically blind partisans. The City was connected by a large web of spies, central of which was Hercules Mulligan.

Hercules Mulligan
​

Mulligan was an Irish tailor, and through a series of circumstances, eventually came to persuade the conservative Hamilton to become a revolutionary. Mulligan was among the first Sons of Liberty, and was, as a charismatic tailor, the thing of respect with the British. Thus making him a perfect spy. He also acted as a key figure in the Reclamation of New York, in the summer months of 1780.

---

Mulligan was in his tailor's shop as a healthy party of Redcoats walked into the establishment, sharing stories and laughing.

"How many buttons do you have?" asked one man in the party, his calm blue eyes looking at the assortment of stuff laid upon Mulligan's desk.

"Ah..." Mulligan said, thinking. "I'd say... four dozen and then some. How many does this handsome battalion need?"

The man gave a chortle, counted the men in his party, and then did some math with his fingers. "Hmm..." he said, his eyes darting to the ceiling to think through his calculations. He gave a swift nod and said: "Forty should do the trick -- five per man here. Expect yourself some more company though, I reckon."

"Ah?" Mulligan said, "Why would that be? His Majesty's Men going to take on the Yanks?" he asked, as another soldier requested an watchcoat. Mulligan obliged, taking the soldier's measurements as he continued the conversation.

"Ah-ha! You could say that, Mr. Mulligan!" the blue-eyed man said with a laugh. "Head officers are requesting majority of the men stationed here go march off to the rebel capital -- Philadelphia, if I recall," he said, as another man in his party affirms the capital's name.

"How much of the good soldiers here will be off? And when will they depart?" he asked, conjuring the fake explanation of needing to make sure that he had enough sewing articles for the number of men that would be coming.

"Aye, aye, I getcha," the soldier said. "They figure we'll be out of here within the fortnight. They'll keep detachments out in the city, but three-quarters of the men will be off to Philadelphia," he explained. A sort of nervous energy crept over the men in the party, seemingly remembering that there was a heightened chance that they could very well die trying to stomp out the rebellion.

"I see," Mulligan nodded, holding the watchcoat for the soldier, counting out the buttons they had requested, and calculating the price. As they started paying, Mulligan gave a patriotic "Well, glad to hear that the good men are being mobilized at last! Best of luck to the lot of ya!" and sprinkled in a "Godspeed" as they left.

As soon as the men were well on his way, Mulligan gave a loud cry for his slave -- "Cato!!"

"Yes'm?" asked Cato, an important accessory to Mulligan's espionage. "What d'ya need me t'do, massuh?"

"Need you to go out to the company," the Irishman said, "and tell them that most of the guests won't be able to show for the party in a fortnight. Counted, and it was almost exactly three-fourths, reckon." He then gave a quick chuckle. "Most of the ones skipping out are right asses," he joked, "so I doubt the company will care too much."

Indeed, the Corsicans didn't seem to mind the absence of so many guests. By the middle of August, more Redcoats had come, more had reaffirmed the plans told on that night. Following Cato's relaying of this to Hamilton, he was sent south to Philadelphia, to warn the Congress of the impending attack.

That wasn't, in truth, the full concern of Hamilton... yet. For now, he fought in and for New York, and once New York was mostly liberated, then he would worry about the affairs of the other states. And indeed he did fight, for on the 23rd of August, the forty-third mayor of New York City, David Mathews, opened his doors to the sound of a clamor. Upon seeing the glint of rifles in the early morning, he fell back and lifted his hands in surrender. This was preluded by a series of sweeps by The Corsicans into the barracks of troops, forcing surrenders with threats of death. It was on that day that New York City was officially liberated; with the mouth of the Hudson River secured, Hamilton wished to ensure that the British began the process of fleeing to the South.

By the end of August, Yankees from New England sat on patrol in the streets of New York City, ready to defend against British attempts to recapture the city. Many of the Loyalists of New York had fled for the Province of Quebec, bringing with them merchants and other wealthy men, as well as slaves and soldiers. The houses of these merchants were filled, eventually, by merchants from New England and Philadelphia and the South, including some freedmen from all directions. In this sense, New York was allowed its continued existence as the city of diversity.

The Corsicans declaring the Liberation of New York, 1780.

---

The United States on the Eve of the Liberation of New York, including the borders of the USA in blue-gray, the Transylvania Free State in Purple (plus the full extent of the charter in dotted purple lines), as well as the Proclamation Line of 1763.
---​

A/N: Woo! I think this is the fastest I've ever made a chapter from another. For reference, Noveborac was a pseudonym used to refer to New York by some newspapers (due to Parliamentary sessions being illegal to leak, the newspaper in question simply pretended it was a fantasy world, filled with Lilliput and Iberia and Columbia. I'm pretty proud of how this one came out, and also that I was able to place in some "sneaky" hints about some stuff coming up -- speaking of, I finally decided the first eight-odd POTUSes, so that's fun!! Excited to write about them!​

 

[Oliveia]

Interlude 1:
Halftime!

Marquis de Lafayette and Baron von Steuben, among the most prominent of foreign generals in the American Revolution.
​

Perhaps by a divine form of trickery, or through the laziness of the author, the recruitment of both Lafayette and von Steuben still occurred during the American Revolution, at the behest of a bedridden and ill Artemas Ward. Continental General Ward, through request, asked for a simple thing: a universal book to aid in the training of a rookie revolutionary army. Both of these men would fight in decisive battles, but an odd little trickle-down of the writing of a universal military training manual (often colloquially called the Blue Book) was the creation of a prominent American sport -- Burnball.

In both Germany and France, there had existed a long lineage of sport that directly fed into Burnball -- perhaps the most prominent of influences coming from German Brennball, a North-German and Scandinavian sport that closely resembles American Burnball. In it, there are two teams. who alternate between being a catching team and a batting team. Unlike burnball, there is no pitcher, and instead the batter hits his or her own ball, and the game continues from there. There are four bases, and the batting team must attempt to get as many batters through all four without getting burned -- if the ball gets caught while someone is running between the two bases.

In correspondence between Lafayette and von Steuben for the effectiveness of playing simple games to build strategy and morale, Lafayette suggested adding the position of pitcher -- who may throw the ball to the batter. If the batter swings but misses, he gets an out. After a set number of outs (almost universally three outs), then the batter must go to the end of the queue -- losing his turn. This, Lafayette explained, would help create sharper minds -- batters would now have to, in a few short seconds, identify where the ball was coming from, if they could hit it, and recognize if they can or cannot, and swing or not swing accordingly. This, of course, shaped into the modern sport that much of America loves to this day.

American Burnball is a professional sport in the 21st century, and has been since the tail-end of the 19th century. Many local organizations run their own competitions, but the sport is mostly popular on the East Coast. A national organization -- the Burnball American Organization (BAO) -- does exist for the sport, but it is an odd entity in that it is, also, technically an organ of the United States military. Each state of the Union has its own state team -- each comprised almost entirely of training soldiers. These include teams like the New York Corsicans, the Massachusetts Yanks, the Ontario Wildmen, etc. Interestingly, very little has changed about the sport since the writing of the Blue Book. Despite -- or perhaps because of -- its simplicity, Burnball is a popular East Coast American sport.

Batter of the New York Corsicans, 2007.
​

---

A/N: Fun fact! I... really don't care about sports. At all. Regardless, though, sports are an important aspect of culture, and as such I figured it would be nice to implement some facet of that into a quick little interlude! Hope you enjoy!

 

[Oliveia]

Chapter 10:
Congress Reassembled (The American Miracle, Part III)

"Rome was not bylt on a daie"
- Common adage recorded in English by John Heywood, 1546
.
"Perhaps this Country has a chance, after-all."
- (Likely apocryphal) quote attributed to Thomas Jefferson

---
March 12th, 1781 [1]

William Trent House, where the so-called "Trenton Chapter" of the First Continental Congress occurred
​

As aforementioned, the timing of the intermission between the two sessions of the Convention could not have been any less than a perfected science: it allowed the Men of Congress to depart at the height of their hostilities, and return to their homes and wives and families. It allowed influential statesmen like Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson to attend the Convention after halftime. The Congressmen who, some long summer months previous would have resigned their beliefs in an attempt to escape the dreary conditions of the Philadelphia State House now had a chance to depart for awhile, to reflect on their beliefs and to, after the winter months had declined, dust off their visions and passions for a new nation like old jackets from coat hangers. They, too, were joined by other new faces of a less excitable nature -- Rhode Islanders. Rhode Island, being among the first to ratify the weak Articles of Confederation, took the unwanted role of protectors of the Articles. This faction, called alternatively "Rhodesians" or the "Weak Guards", were headed by the likes of Colonel William West and Captain Arthur Fenner -- men so despised the rest of the Congress that Rhode Island began being called by a colonial pseudonym of its -- "Rogues' Island." Indeed, these Rhodesians were more bitterly reactionary than genuinely concerned in the affairs of smaller states, as New Jersey was.

Of the debates renewed in the Halls of a new Congress, none was more important than the model of government -- split, again, between the Jerseyites, Virginianites, and Pinckneyites. However, an interesting turn of fate occurred when the firebrand of the Jersey Plan, Luther Martin, slowly succumbed to his own alcoholism. His fiery speeches became confusing, long-winded (though strongly-worded) ramblings. Even Robert Yates, a New-Yorker who was an ardent Jerseyite, agreed that Martin's speeches became "too diffuse... [im]possible to trace... through the whole, or to methodize... into a systematic or argumentative arrangement." It was almost as if Martin had passed a torch on, and he had delivered it into the hands of Pinckney.

Though, as mentioned previously, Pinckney had placed considerable importance in his age, hoping to either revitalize a new government or to become infamous trying. When he stood before the Congress and delivered his speech and plans, he was shocked by its reception: some Jerseyites, already recognizing how their cause was beginning to falter, jumped ship and joined the Pinckneyite camp. Though he had given his plan in detail before, it was received with the glorious consensus of "Eh." But, under new circumstances, it became a new idol. Some less stern Virginianites even hopped on board, recognizing Pinckney's Plan as a compromise they were willing to take.

Pinckney Plan, as it was first proposed to Congress. Aspects of it changed over the course of ratification.
​

In the last weeks of April, Congress agreed that this was the basic outline of how they wanted the new Federal government to look, and thus begins the so-called "Era of Committees" -- the several month period where the formation of the government depended mostly on several-men committees with consent of Congress. These committees were often founded in the belief of sectional equality: that each part of the new United States had to have input in the processes of government: as such, most committees followed the concept of appointing five congressmen -- one from Upper New England, one from Lower New England, one from the so-called "Middle Colonies" (New York, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey), the Upper South, and the Lower South. Perhaps the most important of these committees (though not the sole one) was the Committee of Detail, which was tasked with drafting the new Constitution of the United States of America. Though there were five in the Committee, it is important to note that these individuals did not write it alone -- the fingerprints of Jefferson and Madison and Franklin and Morris are all present in the final document.

However, the Constitution wasn't the sole invention of the First Constitutional Convention: there was also a secondary important document drafted in the Trenton Chapter, the Bill of Rights. Officially titled the North American Bill of Rights [2], it was the proposed all the way back in Philadelphia, by one George Mason -- the author of the Virginia Declaration of Rights (a document which also served to inspire the Preamble of the Declaration of Independence).

George Mason, Father of the Bill of Rights
​

Though not ratified until several years following the Constitution, the Bill of Rights is considered perhaps one of the most critical legal documents of the United States, determining the rights of the citizens and the role of government therein. The challenge of ratifying the Bill of Rights was a long and arduous one, with concessions given and many debates based in semantics -- though this seems unnecessary, it is important to note that, even in the single misplacement of a comma, entire articles could have their meanings suddenly change. Finally, by the late months of 1784 [3], the Bill of Rights was ratified as the following:

"A BILL OF RIGHTS, deemed Necessary by the Men of Congress to Ensure a Stable, Functioning Union, is to be followed by Those in Power, seeing as this is the Purpose of Government to protect the Rights of the People and their Posterity:

ARTICLE I: All Men are naturally Free, Independent, and therefore have Unalienable Rights: These being, in their Simplest Forms: the Enjoyment of Life and Liberty, the ability to Acquire and Possess Property; and the Pursuit of Happiness and Safety. Further, upon entering the State, a Man has no Right to sign any Compact or contract which abridges these above rights, or the rights of his Posterity.
ARTICLE 2: That, as a Nation free of Despotic Thought, it is Unjust to create or pass Any Law which proves to Censor the freedom of the Press, nor any Law which makes the Practice of a Faith illegal, nor any law which Abridges the Rights of Free Speech.
ARTICLE 3: That All Men who show Interest in the Affairs of their Community have the Right to Vote for their Representatives; further that his Suffrage may not be Revoked through Law.
ARTICLE 4: That All Men have a Right to his Property, which the Government cannot Confiscate without his Consent, and even with Consent, Compensation must be Given to the former Property-holder.
ARTICLE 5: That a well-Armed and -Trained Militia, deemed Necessary to Protect the Security of a Nation, must be protected; as such, the Right of the People to bear Arms shall not be Infringed; moreover, any one Individual Religiously Scrupulous of bearing Arms, shall not be Forced to serve in person in the aforementioned Militia.
ARTICLE 6: That the Creation of a Standing Army in times of Peace is to be Illegal unless if Condoned by the Congress.
ARTICLE 7: That no man shall have Soldiers Quartered within his House unless if with the Consent of the Homeowner.
ARTICLE 8: The right of the People to be Secure in their person, their housing, their papers and effects, against unreasonable search and seizure, shall not be violated by warrants issued without probable cause supported by oath or affirmation [4].
ARTICLE 9: No person shall be subject into being Twice put in Jeopardy for the same offense; nor shall he be compelled into testifying Against himself in a criminal case; nor be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of the law
ARTICLE 10: That in the matter of Criminal Prosecutions, the Accused must Enjoy a Speedy and Public Trial, to be Informed of the Nature and Cause of the accusation, to be confronted by the Witnesses against him, to be tried by a jury of impartial Peers (being of the State or district within which the Crime occurred). Further, he has Compulsory Process of obtaining Witnesses in his Favor, and further has the right to Assistance of Counsel for his Defence [sic].
ARTICLE 11: In suits of Common Law in which the Value of Controversy exceeds Twenty Dollars, the Right of Trial by Jury shall be Maintained. Further, that the Proclamations of the Jury cannot otherwise be Re-Examined in any Court, than according to Common Law.
ARTICLE 12: Excessive bail shall not be Required, nor excessive fines Imposed, nor Cruel and Unusual Punishment Inflicted.
ARTICLE 13: Further, that in the Enumeration of these Rights, it is Ensured that the neither The States nor the Government construes to Deny or Disparage other Rights which are Not Listed here; further, that the Enumeration of Future Rights is to be allowed through Future Conventions and Ratification by a Majority of States in the Union.
ARTICLE 14: Further, that of Powers not Delegated by the Constitution, nor Prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States and her Citizens."

In effect, the Articles of the Bill of Rights have been summarized as follows:
Articles 1-4, 13: Rights of the People
Articles 6-8: Limitations of the Army
Articles 9-12: Definitions of the Legal Process
Article 14: "Up-is-Up" Amendment [5]

---

[1] By this point, the Battle of Germantown had long been over. However, it was deemed more formal to continue with the plans for a relocation in Trenton -- Rumor has it that some Congressmen even feared that, if they returned to the Pennsylvania State House, that they would soon be met by the muskets of angered Pennsylvania statesmen.
[2] "North American" was very rarely used to refer to the United States of America in passing. Decided to have fun with that here.
[3] Takes awhile for these Bad Larries to ratify. Blame that on states trying to create Articles 13 and 14.
[4] Slightly different wording here, which means it will be slightly different in action, too.
[5] Called this way because it states the obvious. It is the Amendment That Does Not Amend, as per IRL.

---

Glad this chapter's finally done with! Next one should be about the last major battles of the American Revolution! Thanks for being patient.
-- Bennett

 

[Oliveia]

Chapter 11:
The Times That Try Men's Souls
---
"If there is any man willing to fight, then I say let him."
- Continental General Artemas Ward
---
​

The American Revolution was a war fought on the backs of poor laborers and farmers, invigorated by an ever-squabbling "Assembly of Demigods," and aided by the French and Spaniards -- both for their own forms of petty revenge. This is not to downplay the importance of the Revolution, nor to insult its mission, but rather to accurately visualize what a war it was.

The creation of a European trust system, a league of crown-wearing allies to support the amateurish American rebels was mainly the decision of Benjamin Franklin. Though most of the Founding Fathers knew the fledgling America needed some form of safety net, it was Franklin who took the initiative, and embarked to Europe in the mid-1770s to secure an alliance. In the streets of Paris, Franklin spoke like a drunkard, politic'd like a noble, and (according to his detractors) bedded as often as a rake. However, he was able to secure alliance through the exploitation of the centuries-long Anglo-French rivalry, as well as the French's salt-in-the-wound loss in the Seven Years' War.

Similarly, Franklin's alliance with Spain settled squarely on Spain's geopolitical position. She had fought with France against the bombastic John Bull in the Seven Years' War, and was still relatively close to France politically due to alliances crafted during the War. As such, the promise of British gold and the cession of las Floridas proved to be critical to the war effort. The Spanish Navy was able to easily batter British forts in Florida, while Spanish forces fought side-by-side with their French and American brothers in many key battles.

---
August 17, 1780; Philadelphia, PA:
---
"War is a miserable affair."
- John Burgoyne, "The Soldier"
View attachment 506606​

The red-coated battalions marched dutifully down creeks and rivers, sneakily through the end of the hot summer. Through the ranks of Loyalists, Brits, and Hessians, word spread that the Philadelphians might have caught wind of the planned invasion. General John Burgoyne, upon hearing this, sighed and nodded solemnly. "Yes, yes, I have heard much of this. Let me explain that, with no uncertain terms, that we will continue our attack. We go to cause as much distress as possible, and then flee as quickly as we could."

General John Burgoyne, major military figure in the Revolutionary War​

Burgoyne was a military figure of much prestige. A veteran of the Seven Years' War, he had been promoted to Major-General and sent off to Boston during the early stages of the war. There, he had failed to fight in any major conflicts and eventually retreated to Britain, disappointed by a lack of opportunities. In the disastrous Quebec campaign some years following, Burgoyne again found a position in the British military in the defense of several settlements across the Dominion. That's where Burgoyne had been most comfy: hunting either roving partisans or deer in the Canadian forests, drinking ale in a pub filled with fellow British regulars. Ever a playwright, he even had half-planned manuscripts or descriptions of the Canadian wilderness. It was a second home to him.

And he had just been handed his metaphorical eviction notice, now forced back into another useless front of a pointless war to contain a too-massive problem. He was marching to Philadelphia, and had escaped New York City just weeks before it had turned hands. The entire affair was miserable: the heat was unbearable; often the shade failed to even provide any cooling. The red backs of the regulars shone with the shine of sweat, the air rang with the hissing cries of cicadas. The march was nothing short of hellish, and the concepts of battling seemed a far-fetched fantasy. But, eventually, it settled onto them.

The road into Philadelphia was dusty, and the footfalls of the British regulars brought with it a great cloud of pebble and dirt, like smoke of a fire. The men muttered the lines of "The British Grenadiers" as they marched, one-two-three-and-four, one-two-three-and-four.

The patriots of Philadelphia soon roused to meet them, some already firing into the waves of brilliant vermillions, German greens and Torie blues. Burgoyne, having conducted himself as a major-general would in some glorious battle, finally dropped his facade. With a grimace on his face he shouted an order: "Shoot!"

Every missed shot hit the dusty roads, bringing up a brilliant brown-gray cloud that mingled in the air. The shots that hit littered the road with disheveled forms, some crying, some silent. Like a dance, neither party said what moves would be made, but there was almost an implied consent: when the patriots retreated into the city, the Redcoats followed their step. The battle moved into the simple houses of Germantown. The hamlet soon became bloodstained, with corpses strewn across the market squares, and bullets lodged into the dirt or into windowsills and doors. Eventually, the victor was declared: the waltz was over, and the Brits had tripped and fell. Upon Burgoyne's retreat, he was followed by only two-thirds of his original battalion.

---
January 12, 1781; Long Island, NY
---
"Long Island is the Colossus of the New World: she welcomes British Ships beautifully."
- Admiral Thomas Graves
.
"Perhaps once in a Lifetime, there is a War worth it's [sic] sacrifices. We are within one."
- Major Thomas Mifflin

​

Though most of New York itself, disregarding the land of the Iroquois and the scarcely-inhabited Adirondack, had been liberated by the Patriots and Hamilton's Corsicans, Long Island was an exception. Its position as a coastal entity made it a source of constant bombardment by the British navy. The Americans had tried on many occasions to break up the British control of the island, but each one was met with some failure or another: bombing runs failed to succeed, or a fledgling American boat getting demolished by a volley of cannonballs and gunpowder.

However, Major Thomas Mifflin wished to change the poor track record of Americans in Long Island.

Major Thomas Mifflin, instrumental in the so-called Mifflin Campaign
​

To the tune of war-flutes and drums, Mifflin roared into the Revolution. Born to a Quaker family of four generations, he was quickly disgraced and cast out of the Society for his joining of the Continental Army. He considered this a worthy sacrifice, and with a fervor he fought for liberty. "Liberty is a religion," he professed once, "and it is the sole religion I shall continue to adhere to."

He fought throughout the Northeastern Front, including his native Pennsylvania, from Trenton to Philadelphia and here, to Long Island. Knowing of the importance of Long Island for the security of New England and the Greater Northeast, he began to request naval aid for his plots to overthrow the British blockade. Admirals were generally hesitant to respond to Mifflin's request, until he met with French Admiral de Grasse. de Grasse was well-renowned for his resounding victories against several marauding British ships in the Caribbean, as well as an impressive track record in India during the Seven Years' War. He was a massively important French naval figure, and his meetings with Mifflin inspired the latter.

The clouds were gray and black across the night sky, like rolling banks of snow filling the sky. Stars peek through the occasional breaks in the clouded sky, though not enough to make anything beyond the darkest of blacks. The waters rolled like black satin, covered with chunks of ice floating across the Long Island Sound. The ships were but shadows, except for the lights within their chambers, in which many of those redcoated bastards drank and laughed, remembering their wives or their sons or their homes or their tales.

Soon, the ships wouldn't be the only ones that stood in the Sound. They were joined by a French ship, an old veteran of the Seven Years' War. It would make, the Major and the Admiral agreed, the perfect decoy. As the drunkard soldiers went to their positions, and began to open fire, the Americans entered rowboats. Silently, with blankets on their oars, the boats slipped through the darkness, settling comfortably next to one of the grand British ships. There, one patriot reached into his person, and removed a striker. Through the cold air, to the orchestra of cannon fire, he struck the metal instrument. Click, click, click. The patriot grumbled an irritated sigh, but is met with encouragement. "Easy does it," whispers Mifflin, "We cannot expect everything to go perfect yet. Try once more." A deep breath, a click, and a quick spark fill the air. "Good, good," continued Mifflin. "Aim for a rope. Drier. Easier to catch."

Through a minute's worth of time, eventually, a fire was kindled on a rope. It slowly spread upward, as the Americans retreated quickly, hesitantly. The spark danced wildly, as the fire began to make its way to the deck. By this point, unexpectedly, the French ship had been able to strike down one of the loitering British ships, though sustaining heavy damages. The decoy of a ship was swiftly abandoned, and the few French sailors on board reunited with the Americans. There were a fair amount more ships in the Sound, but many shrunk away from the sight of several sinking vessels and a burning one, and either docked or outright fled. The following weeks were ones of liberation, with coordination between Mifflin and de Grasse between water and land, they were able to take many prisoners and liberate much of the island.

---
October 2, 1781
---
"Any Slave who wishes for Freedom, if he so chooses, will be Granted it so long as he joins in arms against the British."
- The Charleston Proclamation

The Moultrie -- or Liberty -- Banner of South Carolina
​

Charleston may have been the Jerusalem of Slavery, but it was far from a heavenly place. The British ruled the city (and, indeed, most of South Carolina) as lax as they had started the war. British regulars roamed the streets, waltzing about in the sticky summer air, or shivering in the wintery breezes. On the rare occurrence of snow filling the streets, the redclad Brits stayed warm in bars and inns, or else were pelted with snowballs filled of ice and glass from rambunctious kids. Much like Hamilton's Corsicans, an incognito branch of Patriots continued operation in the solidly British South. They never crafted a name for themselves, and rather stuck to an old classic: The South Carolinian Chapter of the Sons of Liberty. At their head stood William Moultrie.

William Moultrie, prominent South Carolinian and prominent member of the Sons of Liberty.
​

At the surface, Moultrie was an average socialite in the Southern colonies. He was a man with minor war experience, fighting against the Cherokee in the early 1760s, and also a man of minor political standing, being an assemblyman within the legislature of South Carolina (a legislature whose voice had long ago been silenced by the rough voice of martial law). However, for some reason or another, the planter and slaver felt personally attached to the ideals of freedom. Perhaps he did it out of loyalty to South Carolina, or perhaps he was fueled by wrongs dealt to him by British hands. Regardless of reason, Moultrie was a dedicated fighter.

By the 1780s, the war effort had fully focused itself with ending the brutal half-decade long war. The Spanish stormed from newly reconquered forts from the Floridas, or from huge ships, likewise the French. From the North came Virginians and Chesapeakers, New Englanders and other such Yanks. They all relied heavily on the network of liberty-loving Patriots to coordinate strikes or to set up forts. However, this all culminated within the month-long siege of Charleston.

​

The Battle was fought by men of all colors -- the tanned skins of Spaniards, the pale skins of Anglos and Frenchmen and Scotsmen, the darker skins of the stray Native, and even a battalion of Free Blacks from Saint-Domingue. They were met by an equally colorful coalition of redcoated Brits, green-coated Germans, and the odd blue of a Torie. Perhaps even a ragamuffin Black joined in their ranks. The battle was long and hard, with neither side refusing to retreat. It was a brutal war of attrition, with no side seeming to gain nor lose land as the long winter months loomed overhead.

Though it is unknown who proposed it, it was often claimed that, on one morning, Colonel Moultrie huffed by his camp: "Damn it all!" he roared, "it is impossible for us to make any ground in this position. They fight from the city, and we fight outside it. We cannot reverse this fate!" To this, a soldier chuckled quietly: "Let the slaves fight," he retorted jokingly, "and this war could be over in but a moment." And though Moultrie was opposed to such an idea, other soldiers on the front were not. In fact, word spread across the battalions of the joking proposal, and letters were sent to the Continental Congress, and, though with heavy debate, the green-light was given, with the express understanding that such a declaration would apply only to slaves in Charleston. As word again poured through the ranks that a declaration would be given.

It was night when the drummer-boy snuck into Charleston. His name was Henri Christophe, a gens de couleur, he was from Saint-Domingue. In his later memoirs, he wrote that he was possessed by "a near overwhelming desire to speak of this resolution with my own lips -- to let such a message of freedom and emancipation not be sullied over by white hands and slaver minds, but instead in the voice of the slave." He wrote pamphlets in French, with another soldier who wrote them in English, and distributed them across the city. Soon, they were in the outskirts, yelling the potentials of liberation to the sleeping-houses of dozens upon dozens of slaves.

In the morning, Colonel Moultrie looked out of his camp to first smell the smell of ash, and then see the sight of smoke. It rose and twisted among the buildings of Charleston, contorting as it faded into the clouds. With a triumphant roar, the combined Patriot-French-Spanish forces charged to the British lines. The Redcoats tried to fire back, but were soon distracted by the shuffling of hordes of slaves, emerging from smoke and ash bravely with pitchforks and shovels, some even holding stolen muskets, as they charged the vermillion-wearing Brits.

Thus ended the Battle of Charleston, the last major conflict of the American Revolution. The peace treaties in Paris, signed between America and Britain and between Spain, France, and Britain, were all signed around 1782-1783, though fighting continued sporadically as the ink was scrawled onto parchment, crossed off, and then written to dry once more. America got all the land it could have desired -- the border went as north as Massachusetts' Department of Maine, New Hampshire, and Vermont, with the northern border continuing straight until it cleared the Ontario Peninsula. From there, America owned everything east of the Mississippi, "excepting the lands of the Dominion of Quebec, and the colonies of East- & West-Florida." These borders, though gracious in size and scope, did create a number of null spaces that would become troublesome over the early years of the United States of America.

But, to the average commoner, that did not seem important. It seemed that God had smiled down on the newly born United States of America that day, and that they would be a country filled of great men. Soon, they would have their first President, even: the ever-honorable Benjamin Franklin.

------


A/N: Thank fuck this is finally done! The Revolution was a bit of a pain to write, but now we're into Part 2: The Hundred-Dollar President, as I like to call it. Thank you to @G. MacClellan for his help suggesting ideas for this chapter, and I'll definitely fix some details in this tomorrow. Can't right now, though. Thanks again, all of you!!

 

[Oliveia]

Interlude 2:
Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

​

Celebrations of Christmas began centuries ago in Europe, many countries adopting differing traditions and beliefs which evolved over time. As such, the multicultural United States of America took sparingly from these European mythos, with many different regions incorporating different elements in their celebrations. Universally, the United States celebrates Christmas on the 25th of December, with Christmas Eve also being celebrated. Like in Europe, gift-giving (and the existence of semi-supernatural gift-givers) are commonplace, with gifts being exchanged on the 25th.

Santa Claus (Eastern United States):
Originating from the Dutch Sinterklaas, Santa Claus is traditionally depicted as a Dutch sailor, green-vested and jolly, who drives ashore and delivers gifts to the children. Brown-bearded and big-bellied, it is tradition of children to leave oliekoek (also known as Dutch doughnuts) out for Santa to eat as he delivers his gifts. In regions away from the coast, Santa Claus is depicted the same, but instead he docks his ship and delivers gift by sleigh, pulled by a team of deer.
Santa Claus, as aforementioned, originated from Dutch and Low-Lander traditions, but his popularity surged following the American Revolution. Due to anti-British sentiments in New York City, people began to look into the Dutch ancestry of the port-city. Due to this, the Dutch gift-giver replaced the decidedly Anglo Father Christmas in the aftermath of the Revolution, and his presence became the status-quo.

Father Christmas / Père Noël (Southern and Central United States):
Origins of Father Christmas depends fairly strongly on where one is in the United States. In the Southern United States, he is far more inspired from Anglo traditions (though, much like the South, a boatload of cultures concoct the modern Father Christmas). There, Father Christmas is a white-bearded old man, dressed in red. Much like Santa Claus, he comes at night and delivers gifts, though his method of transportation is scarcely described in many traditional stories. Similarly (though not identically) to Santa, Father Christmas gives gifts to the generous, as opposed to just the good-natured. This likely stems from depictions of Father Christmas in the early-to-mid 18th century, where his popularity in England had declined and he had become more obscure. Stories which called upon "Old Christmas" depict him as a generous, though not-often-seen, soul.
Père Noël, which means Father Christmas in French, is more widely celebrated in culturally French regions of the United States, such as the Old Northwest and along the US-owned Mississippi River. Père closely resembles his Mainland French counterpart, in which he is a wise old man, travelling with his donkey named Gui (French for mistletoe). It is tradition for children, much like for Santa Claus, to leave stuff for Père. However, unlike for Santa, the French tradition is to leave carrots or other food for the donkey, for which Père will leave small gifts like money for the children. Though he is often accompanied by a donkey, this is not always the case. In French regions close to the Mississippi, some regions celebrate a Père Noël that travels up the Mississippi in a pirogue (a type of shallow canoe which is used more often among Cajun communities in the swamplands of Louisiana).

Belsnickel (Pennsylvania and Ohio):
Belsnickel is a combination of the benevolent and malevolent aspects of many gift-giving figures in Europe. While places in Europe traditionally celebrated a gift-giver who is followed by a punishment-dealer, Belsnickel is a combination of the two. Spawning directly from the immigration of Palatinate Germans into Pennsylvania and later into Ohio (the so-called Pennsylvania Dutch), Belsnickel is depicted as a smaller old man, with a grayer beard than his other counterparts. He usually wears disheveled and mismatched furs and clothes, and is often depicted as carrying a large bag which contains his supplies. Slightly more of a trickster, Belsnickel is often celebrated as telling riddles or giving requests to young ones, with the reward being nuts and candies. Described as a knowledgeable one, he knows which children are naughty, and punishes them for any naughty behavior. Though traditionally this was to be done through beating with a switch. However, over time this mellowed into simply gifting the child a birch log.

Morosco (Oregon):
Morosco stems from a mixture of the Russian Ded Moroz (or Morozko) and from the Anglo Father Christmas. This stems, obviously, from the complex history of trade relations between the Russians of Alyaska and the British (and later Americans) of the Pacific Coast. However, Morosco borrows most heavily from the former, being depicted as a wizard, clad in heavy winter boots and holding a magician's staff. He rides on a three-horse sleigh with his granddaughter, Snegurca (again from the Russian equivalent, Snegurka), who helps her grandfather. Over time, Morosco has been seen as illiterate, to which children will write to Snegurca to express what they want for Christmas. Unlike most other gift-givers in the United States, Morosco delivers his gifts in person (though the presence of Snegurca or his sleigh are variable).

Los Reyes Magos (Southern and Caribbean United States):
Derived from both Spanish tradition and the strong Catholic sentiments of formerly Spanish territories, Florida and the Caribbean follow Spanish principles in terms of gift-giving, in that it is done through the Biblical Magi (also known as the Three Wise Men). Much like Père Noël, children who believe in Los Reyes Magos leave stray grass in boxes to feed the Wise Men's camels. As per Biblical descriptions, the Three Wise Men are Melchior, Caspar, and Balthazar. The last of these three Kings historically was represented through the use of blackface, though in recent years Seminoles and other African-Americans have begun to see greater employment as impersonators of Balthazar.

---
A/N: Merry Christmas everyone! In the next coming days expect a somewhat accurate map of where in this USA what version of the famous holiday gift-giver is used. This is all subject to change of course, but I really enjoyed writing this!