Henry Knox

by Mark Puls

  Knox felt somewhat cloistered in the bookstore and spent his leisure in daily exercise and outdoor activities. He was close to his brother, and they often went hunting or fishing. Henry was a dedicated angler. The day before his twenty-third birthday, he boarded a small boat with his musket for a hunting expedition on Noodle Island in Boston Harbor. As he was exploring, his shotgun accidentally discharged, sending a blast of shot pellets through the fingers of his left hand. Knox winced in pain and gritted his teeth before summoning the strength to open his eyes to examine the wound, which was bleeding profusely. The pinky and ring fingers on his left hand were gone. His heart sank; one careless moment had left him with an irrevocable loss that could never be undone. He bound the wound and rowed back across the harbor to find two doctors to sew it up. Knox paid one of the physicians three guineas and the other five. He believed they had saved his life. He expressed his gratitude in a thank-you note, comparing himself to a mariner who had weathered a storm and who had emerged with "a firm respect and esteem for the means of his existence. So, Sir, gratitude obliges me to tender you my most sincere thanks for the attention and care you took of me in a late unlucky accident.“13

  He spent his birthday nursing the wound and trying to bear the pain. He was horrified to look at the injury and felt self-conscious about it. He took out a handkerchief and experimented with ways to hold it so as to veil his wound. For the rest of his life, Knox—even in portraits—would always be seen with a handkerchief wrapped around his left hand.

  A few weeks after the accident, he appeared in another parade with the Boston Grenadier Corps as they marched through town in sharp military order to the staccato beat of drums. Henry's friend Burbeck noticed that "Lieutenant Knox appeared with the wound handsomely bandaged with a scarf, which of course excited the sympathy of all the ladies.“14

  Among those sympathetic was Lucy Flucker, one of the most fashionable young Tory women in Boston, who just days before had celebrated her seventeenth birthday. Watching the parade, she was transfixed by the tall, robust figure of Henry in uniform leading the column, and she immediately inquired about his identity.

  Within days, Lucy showed up at Henry's shop and was delighted to find him kind, attentive, and all she had hoped for. He was equally smitten with her. She was a young woman of highly cultivated manners and tastes, blessed with beauty and, as a friend commented, a "bewitching face.“15 She had social charm and wit, was known for her intelligence and, as another friend put it, "very fond of books, and especially the books sold by Knox, to whose shelves she had frequent recourse.“16 She enjoyed social life, and because she was an eligible and attractive Tory lady, British officers vied for the attentions of her and her sisters at the frequent balls held around town.

  Henry and Lucy were, however, from the opposite ends of Boston society. She was the daughter of Thomas Flucker, an affluent businessman who had served as the royally appointed secretary of Massachusetts since 1770. The fifty-four-year-old Flucker was a staunch, high-toned Tory with little patience for the radical element in Boston. He had served on the governor's council, the upper house of the legislature, which was patterned after the House of Lords, from 1761 to 1768 during the controversies over the Sugar Act, the Stamp Act, and the Townshend measures as resistance to Parliament grew.

  But despite Henry and Lucy's social differences, a courtship developed, and soon both were expressing love to each other. She called him "Harry" and sympathized with his hard-luck past, the boy who supported his mother and brother at the age of nine, the loss of his father, the sacrifices he made in leaving school, and his dedicated effort to educate himself. She was not repelled by his mangled hand but instead viewed it as a war wound befitting a man of valor—even if it was only the result of a hunting accident.

  Lucy also began to share Henry's political sympathies, which directly conflicted with the views of her own family. These differences became exacerbated as the gulf between Tories and Whigs widened in the late autumn of 1773, when news arrived that four ships transporting discount-priced tea that carried a three-pence-per-pound tax were being sent to America. This was an attempt by King George III and Parliament to tempt colonists to accept a British tax in which the cost was offset by the cheap price of the most popular drink in the colonies.

  The first of these cargo vessels, the Dartmouth, arrived in Boston Harbor on November 28, 1773. By law, the ship had to be unloaded and the duty paid on its cargo at the end of twenty days, which in the case of the Dartmouth's tea fell on December 16.

  To prevent the crates of tea leaves from being unloaded at some quiet moment or in the dead of the night, radical leaders appointed a twenty-four-hour guard to watch the vessel while they tried to work out a resolution that would send the tea back to England. Knox's Boston Grenadiers volunteered to take their turn to prevent the cargo from landing on American soil. As Henry stood watch on Griffin's Wharf, he realized that he was in firing range of a fleet of British battleships that flanked the Dartmouth. By volunteering for the guard detail, Henry publicly identified himself with the colonial cause and was in open and defiant opposition to the convictions and politics of Lucy's family.

  Shortly before six o'clock on Thursday, December 16, 1773, the captain of the Dartmouth, Francis Rotch, reported to a town meeting of about 8,000 residents at the Old South meetinghouse that the governor and customs officials refused to allow him to send the tea back to England without the duties being paid. The cargo would be unloaded by authorities the next morning. Within minutes a large group of young men disguised as Mohawk Indians marched to the three tea-laden ships (the fourth had been wrecked on the rocks of Cape Cod) at Griffin's Wharf. They boarded and began to remove the crates, splitting them with mock tomahawks so water would saturate the contents. It is not known whether Henry Knox took part in what became known as the Boston Tea Party. It had been engineered by Samuel Adams and the Sons of Liberty, and those who took part were sworn to secrecy and for the most part did not know the other participants under their disguises.

  Massachusetts governor Hutchinson believed war between the colonists and the British was now inevitable and that the inhabitants had gone too far to recede. Yet despite the political polarization in Boston between loyalists and radicals, Lucy stood by Henry.

  Her father was greatly concerned over Lucy's infatuation with a young man who was not only her inferior in social standing, but a possible rebel who sought to undermine the authority of King George III, Parliament, and royal officials such as himself. To dissuade his daughter from an ill-considered choice in her heart's desire, he bluntly laid the future before her. Britain was intent on extending its authority in America and settling the interior regions toward the Mississippi, he told her. Additional governors would be appointed and most likely given noble titles. British political and military power would overwhelm those who resisted, and rebels such as Henry faced certain ruin or even worse. If she married this humble bookbinder, she could anticipate a future of poverty or perhaps be reduced to begging from friends for support. The gulf in social standing would mean estrangement from her family, including her dear sisters. One day she would undoubtedly watch as her siblings traveled in fine carriages and attended elegant banquets and enjoyed all that a life of privilege had to offer. And she, living in need, would begin to rank the wants of her purse above the yearnings of her sentimental heart.

  Her father told her that if rebels such as Henry resisted British authority to the point of war, she would be married to a traitor and unable to hold her head with dignity as she walked the streets of her hometown. Her husband would be fighting against her brother, who was enlisted in the British army. Lucy's friends were equally discouraging, explaining that her love for Henry could cost her everything, including their friendships.

  Yet Lucy's devotion to Henry had grown beyond infatuation into a devoted love. She realized that despite the sacrifices, she could not live without him, and she would forsake her world if she must.

  Knox was also going
through agonizing turmoil. Because of her father's opposition to their courtship, they were forced to meet in secret and arrange times to run into each other, or to attend dances and public events where they could steal a private moment. They passed notes that revealed their true feelings while maintaining a façade of polite friendship in public. Thoughts of losing her amid all the complications swirling around their courtship gave him moments of grief-stricken panic. They discussed marriage and entertained the idea of eloping. Lucy tried to win over her father, to have him see Henry as she saw him and consent to their marriage.

  Henry wrote to Lucy on Monday, March 7, 1774: "What news? Have you spoken to your father, or he to you, upon the subject? What appearance has this [to our] grand affair at your house at present? Do you go to the ball tomorrow evening? I am in a state of anxiety heretofore unknown. I wish the medium of our correspondence settled, in order to which I must endeavor to see you, when we will settle it.“17

  He expressed his faith in her love: "My only consolation is in you, and in order that it should be well grounded, permit me to beg two things of you with the greatest ardency: never distrust my affection for you without the most rational and convincing proof—if you do not hear from me in a reasonable time, do not lay it to my want of love, but want of opportunity; and do not, in consequence of such distrust, omit writing to me as often as possible.“18

  Confronted with Lucy's fervent pleas, Flucker gave in and consented to the marriage. Henry and Lucy set a date to exchange vows for Monday, June 20, 1774. Her father wondered whether Knox's radicalism stemmed more from military ambition than political ideals. Through his influence as royal secretary of Massachusetts, Flucker secured Henry a commission in the British army as a lieutenant and then a captain. Knox was flattered but said he had to refuse the offer, which made Flucker acknowledge that Knox's convictions ran deep.

  Even before the wedding, the predictions that Henry's business prospects would plummet seemed prophetic. News arrived in Boston in early May that Parliament had retaliated for the Boston Tea Party by passing a coercive port bill that forbade any commercial trade ships in Boston Harbor. Residents approved another boycott of English goods on Thursday, May 12. This would mean a sharp drop in business at Knox's London Bookstore, which dealt almost exclusively in items shipped from England. Henry was left holding the debt for his inventory while being unable to sell the items and satisfy his creditors. The London bookselling firm of Wright & Gill notified him that 5 percent interest would be tacked on to his £350 debt. This debt was over two years past due, forcing the firm to write to him: "It really hurts us to be under the disagreeable necessity of thus writing you.“19 Yet despite the prospect of ruining his business, Knox spearheaded an "anti-consumption" league to help enforce the boycott.

  The next day, Knox dressed in his militia uniform and marched with the Boston Grenadier Corps to the Long Wharf as British ships sailed into the harbor carrying four regiments of troops and General Thomas Gage, who was ordered to replace Hutchinson as the governor of Massachusetts. As Gage disembarked, he noticed Knox's company marching in precise military movements and commented that he was impressed with their military bearing. The British troops set up camp on Boston Common and began daily exercises.

  As Henry and Lucy prepared for their wedding, he had to arrange for his business to survive the boycott. Knox expected the tactic to be effective in forcing a repeal of the Boston Port Act, as similar tactics had been in defeating the Stamp Act and Townshend revenue measures. On Monday, May 30, the day before the Port Act was to go into effect, he wrote to Wright & Gill: "If the act to block up this harbor should continue in force any length of time, it must deeply affect every person in trade here, and consequently their correspondents on your side of the water. But it is expected the British merchants will see their own interest so clearly as to induce them to exert their whole influence in order to get so unjust and cruel an edict repealed.“20

  On June 1, Knox, along with colonists throughout America, fasted and prayed for Boston as well as for the repeal of the Port Act—and in the hope of avoiding a war. The call for a day of fasting had come from the Virginia House of Burgesses led by Thomas Jefferson and Richard Henry Lee. Jefferson said the result was "like a shock of electricity, arousing every man, and placing him erect and solidly on his center.“21

  Thomas Flucker worked closely with General Gage to enforce the ban on merchant shipping in Boston Harbor. He and other loyalists also kept a close watch on the defiant Massachusetts General Assembly. Gage had the power to close the legislature down if radicals passed any measures to undermine British authority.

  On Friday, June 17, a panting messenger arrived at Gage's office to report that the assembly was passing proposals to send delegates to the upcoming Continental Congress, slated for September, to address the standoff between the colonies and England. Gage frantically drew up an order to shut down proceedings and handed it to Flucker, who raced to the legislature only to find the doors of the session chambers bolted shut. In his frustration, Flucker read the order aloud to the closed door, surrounded by fellow Tories. By the time the assemblymen emerged, they had approved a bill that chose delegates to attend the congress: Samuel Adams, John Adams, the Massachusetts Speaker of the House Thomas Cushing, and prosecuting attorney Robert Treat Paine.

  Flucker returned to Gage seething with resentment over the actions of men he deemed rebels to both the king and Parliament. He could not help but feel wounded by the thought that in three days, his beloved daughter Lucy would marry a known rebel sympathizer.

  On Monday, June 20, at the height of the swirling controversy, as colonists continued to sign on to the boycott, as British soldiers daily marched through Boston streets and militia companies throughout the region prepared for war, Henry Knox and Lucy Flucker exchanged wedding vows. About a month later, he would be twenty-four years old, and she would turn eighteen, their birthdays just eight days apart.

  A friend composed lines of verse for the ceremony in praise of Lucy's decision to risk a promising future for the considerations of her heart:

  Blest tho' she is with ev'ry human grace,

  The mein engaging, and bewitching face,

  Yet still an higher beauty is her care,

  Virtue, the charm that most adorns the fair.22

  The marriage sparked deep disappointment in Lucy's family and friends. By ignoring their pleas, by standing by Henry as his prospects declined and as he stood in opposition to the most powerful empire in the world, she showed a strong independent streak rare in her social circle.

  Their wedded life began in the midst of financial crisis. Henry had to balance his political feelings with concerns for his business. The memory of his father's failed business and the turmoil it caused their family was still fresh in his mind. He tried to maintain cordial commercial relations with both loyalists and Tories. When James Rivington, the New York bookseller and publisher of Rivington's Royal Gazette in New York, sent him five chests of dutied tea on Thursday, July 28, Henry declined the commission. He wrote Rivington: "I forgot my politics—or rather, I have none to communicate at present. Things seem to be pretty much at a stand, since I wrote you."

  He reported that the troops in Boston seemed disciplined and for the most part tried to avoid triggering confrontations with inhabitants, who also wanted to avoid another incident like the Boston Massacre. But he noted that militias were growing in ranks and the boycott had spread throughout the New England colonies, even though it had been prohibited by General Gage. Knox could not help but let his politics show in writing Rivington: "The new acts for regulating this government will, I perfectly believe, make great difficulties. The people are in no disposition to receive an act pregnant with so great evils. What mode of opposition will be adopted, I do not know; but it is the general opinion that it will be opposed; hence the key to the formidable force collecting here.“23

  To further his own military education, Knox often watched the British soldiers drill. He noticed
another keen observer of the troops, a thirty-two-year-old Rhode Island Quaker by the name of Nathanael Greene, who was destined to be the closest male friend of his life. Despite the pacifism of Greene's religious upbringing, he harbored an almost overwhelming ambition for military glory. He looked like anything but a soldier, walking with a pronounced limp that was believed to be the result of an accident when, as a boy, he fell from a roof while sneaking to a dance. Quakers are forbidden to dance, and this would not be the last time Greene defied the restrictions of his denomination.

  Greene grew up in Warwick, Rhode Island, where he worked in his father's ironworks. He had an early interest in military life. In 1770, he moved to Coventry, Rhode Island, a sixty-mile horseback ride from Boston, to take over a foundry, and soon was elected to the colonial legislature. Three years later, he again defied religious sanctions by attending a military parade and as a consequence was turned out of the Quaker meeting. Undeterred, he organized a stylish militia called the Kentish Guards. Yet Green was denied a commission because of his game knee.

  Sharing similar military aspirations as well as political sentiments, Knox and Greene became quick friends and spent hours discussing military strategy and tactics at Henry's bookshop or at Nathanael's Boston lodging, the Bunch of Grapes, which had become a favorite hangout of Whig leaders. Henry suggested several books on military science to him and was not impressed with Greene's knowledge, thinking him "the rawest, most untutored being I ever met with.“24

  Gage knew of Knox's reputation as a skilled military engineer and grenadier, and he gave orders prohibiting him from leaving Boston. Aware that he was under surveillance, Knox became cautious about what he said and who was listening. Paul Revere's commitment to the colonial cause had not yet come to the attention of authorities. When he visited Knox's bookstore and loyalists or British soldiers were browsing the shelves, Revere pretended to quarrel with Knox over work that had been commissioned by Henry for engraving or silverwork. They had fun with the ruse and shouted insults at each other. Their apparent animosity fueled gossip, and it was widely held that they detested and distrusted each other. British spies approached Revere, seeking information about the rebel bookseller.