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Step in Time: The Ritual Function ofSocial Dance and Military Drill in GeorgeWashtington's Continental ArmyMelissa D. Andrews

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THE FLORIDA STATE UNIVERSITY

COLLEGE OF VISUAL ARTS, THEATRE AND DANCE

STEP IN TIME: THE RITUAL FUNCTION OF SOCIAL DANCE AND

MILITARY DRILL IN GEORGE WASHTINGTON’S CONTINENTAL ARMY

By

Melissa D. Andrews

A Thesis submitted to the

Department of Dance

in partial fulfillment of the

requirements for the degree of

Master of Arts

Degree Awarded

Spring Semester, 2006

ii

The members of the Committee approve the thesis of Melissa D. Andrews, defended on

October 27, 2005.

______________________

Tricia Young

Professor Directing Thesis

______________________

Sally Sommer

Committee Member

______________________

John O. Perpener, III.

Committee Member

The Office of Graduate Studies has verified and approved the above named committee

members.

iii

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Research for this thesis was funded by the “Library Without Walls: The George

Washington Project,” through the Dance Division New York Public Library of

Performing Arts and Florida State University’s program in American Dance Studies. I

want to specially thank that project for the opportunity to research in Washington, DC

where I had the opportunity to talk to Kate Van Winkle Keller, Bart Hacker, Margaret

Vinning and Elizabeth Aldrich, which opened many theoretical doors.

Sally Sommer sent me on the original dive, and on many occasions patiently

convinced me to persevere. Along the way several people have graciously read the work

in progress and offered their invaluable thoughts: Sally Sommer, Edward Grey, John O.

Perpener, and Tricia Young.

In addition to my family, the coffee workers of the world deserve partial credit for

this thesis. In bringing their product from earth to market, I am convinced that we can

brew inspiration.

iv

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Abstract v

INTRODUCTION 1

COLONIES IN CRISES 5

SOCIAL DANCE AS REDRESSIVE ACTION 26

MILITARY DRILL AS REDRESSIVE ACTION 48

THE THRESHOLD AND BEYOND—VALLEY FORGE 66

CONCLUSION 88

BIOBLIOGRPAHY 91

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETHC 97

v

ABSTRACT

This thesis will describe, analyze and compare the functions of social dance and

military drill among American soldiers during the Revolutionary War. These movement

forms, though performed in different contexts, both contributed to the creation of

communitas in the army, which was vital to its success. Specifically, collective

movement, whether on the training field or ballroom floor, served as a vehicle by which

Americans negotiated the transitional phase into a new nation. The Revolutionary War

can be read as a rite of passage; social dance and military drill were literally embodied

ritual enactments of solidarity and community. Social dance and military drill will be

compared in relationship to their European roots, with particular emphasis on their role in

social class structure, movement style and vocabulary.

1

INTRODUCTION

This thesis will look at dance and drill as ritual performances that speak of and to

community identity. Such performances have social and political ramifications. I will

use the work of anthropologist Victor Turner to interpret the story of the Continental

Army during the American Revolution as a microcosm for the larger rite of passage that

the nation was undergoing at its birth. As normality was suspended for war, collective

movement found in social dance and drill practices helped mediate the variety of agendas

held by the diverse soldiers who had left their homes, and the comfort of predictability,

for the rebel cause. Social dance and military drill, both forms of collective movement,

elevated the community above the individual while allowing for personal pleasure, a

circumstance that Turner recognizes in all rituals. His theories on ritual structure and

social drama will be used to more clearly define the social function of dance and drill in

the formation of the Continental Army and the maintenance of military morale.

I understand this type of reportage, or any version of history, as a reading done by

myself; guided by my interests this thesis will look at a small, but important, aspect of

colonial culture in such a way that its significance is magnified. My reportage will not

delve deeply into the military events of the war but will strive to describe camp life and

its social dynamics as they relate to this topic. Unfortunately, information relevant to this

topic, considered unimportant in terms of keeping historical records at the time, is sparse

and lacking in detail in primary sources. The dearth of social records regarding the daily

life of the continental soldier can also be attributed to the post-war politics that privileged

and celebrated the role of the militia.1 Because the contributions of regular army veterans

were not equally respected, oral histories of common enlisted men were not seen as

“interesting” until most of them had died. Historian Carolina Cox elaborates,

1 The Continental Army refers to men who gave their service to the war for an extended

period of time. They were paid by the army, traveled where it went and were subject to

its martial law. The militia, on the other hand, were the roughly organized groups of

local volunteers who could spontaneously take up arms if the fighting came near their

own town.

2

Any understanding of the soldiers and officers has been further clouded by the

events after the war. In the postwar victory celebrations, few people

acknowledged the role the soldiers had played or saw them as heroic. Instead,

Fourth of July orators celebrating the nation’s independence credited the success

to a general uprising of outraged citizens and presented the struggle as a people’s

war, regardless of who had actually done the fighting or how the new nation had

treated its warriors when the victory was less certain. Celebratory rhetoric only

increased as the United States grew in confidence and power. When the new

nation found itself divided over a variety of issues in the succeeding decades,

memories and celebration of the revolution provided an important source of

shared experience and community. Only with the passage of time were the

soldiers themselves acknowledged as heroes. As the Revolutionary generation

aged and died, Independence Day speeches and veterans’ obituaries revered the

former soldiers as “heroes of the Revolution ’who in the dark days of 1776 [had]

buckled on the sword of liberty, (Cox, xiv).

This research is extremely labor-intensive because the records are so sparse.

Historical records of the war are largely limited to official documents and the diaries of

upper-class men and women. However, with the current trends toward a more inclusive

cultural history a new generation of Revolutionary War historians have taken on the

arduous task of researching the lives of the middle and lower-class people, developing a

methodology which this project embraces and strives to enhance. Caroline Cox’s book,

A Proper Sense of Honor, is an excellent example among many. By using documentation

regarding medical treatment of soldiers and treatment of soldier’s dead bodies she

interprets how lower-class soldiers, who have typically been written about as hapless

know-nothings, actively engaged in the protection of their rights, both real and symbolic.

Her book, and others with similar methodology, represent a shift in historical focus that

has marked scholarship of the current generation.

The fragments that I can now assemble were embedded in manuals of military

maneuvers, details of supply shortages and camp procedures. In addition to military

records, some sources come from elite northeastern families that valued education and

preservation. The middle and lower-classes produced the fewest written records due to

wide-spread illiteracy in colonial America and a general lack of materials for writing.

Because different aspects of this time period have been recorded to varied degrees, and

some of the details require more speculation on my part than others, I will try to be

3

transparent in my historical descriptions, exposing my sources and commenting on their

credibility within the text.

In order to fully appreciate the meaningful parallels between dance and drill styles

of the time, and to better grasp the subtle yet profound influence they played on the social

scene, a great deal of background material must be covered. Some readers may come

with knowledge of the Revolutionary War and its drill practices while others may be

familiar with early American dance practices, but rare is the reader who will have a solid

background in both. In an effort to be thorough, I will summarize this information as it is

analyzed in terms of Turner’s theories on social drama and ritual.

The first chapter will set the scene by providing a brief history of the

Revolutionary War as a social drama, including an introduction to this theory. I will

provide demographic information about the different classes of people in the army and

discuss the historical importance of those class distinctions. I will also describe the

personal motivations for participation in the army, including the presence and role of the

female campfollowers and African Americans. Above all, this chapter will highlight the

liminal characteristics of the Continental Army.

The second chapter will explore the function of social dance during the

Revolutionary War, arguing that social dance and theatrical performance during the

American Revolution were both abundant and necessary. This information will trace the

entire length of the war, as well as some events before and after the war that can provide

valuable context. I will introduce the basic categories of dances being done at the time,

and how those dances varied according to the nature of the occasion and/or the social

class of the dancers. Looking to the upper-class--that is, the officers--I will describe the

frequent assemblies and balls that were an integral aspect of the social scene in winter

encampments. Of special interest to the author is the potential for social mobility for

low- ranking officers through these assemblies, and the investment that some of these low

-ranking officers made in dance instruction during the war years. I will also describe the

dancing of the lower-classes. However, because records are less plentiful regarding the

lower-classes, much of this information will be inferred from general knowledge of this

genre. For each group I will maintain a similar focus that analyzes popular social dance

forms in terms of their social function at a time of social crises.

4

Chapter Three will discuss the ritual function of military drill during the

Revolutionary War. Introductory material will provide a brief historical survey of

military drill in western armies and the use of military music. The subject of drill during

the Revolutionary War will be discussed in terms of the arrival of Baron Von Steuben,

and his instructions in codified drill techniques that unified the Continental Army.

Though it is highly debatable that these new skills affected the forces on the field, the

army’s acquisition of drilling skills is often referred to as “the turning point of the war”

because of the positive impact it had on discipline and morale. The educational process

that soldiers and officers underwent to perform drill maneuvers will be read in terms of a

rite of passage, as laid out by Victor Turner. This chapter will also look at the formal

aspects of the drill formations to interpret their social function.

Chapter four offers a narrative that highlights the events surrounding the

notorious Valley Forge winter, wherein the intersections of dance, drill, social status, and

Turner’s theory of social drama will become clear. The re-telling of this standard tale of

American history through this perspective surfaces aspects of camp life that have

heretofore been neglected. The abundant amount of ‘down time’ soldiers experienced is

underscored, as well as the potential of that ‘down time’ in symbolic and practical terms.

Noting its formal and historical parallels to dance, military drill at Valley Forge takes on

new significance. The symbolic potential for military drill is highlighted in the Valley

Forge experience and, furthermore, proven principal by the tactical irrelevance of drill

tactics displayed in the remaining battles of the American Revolution.

The entire work will culminate in a conclusion that will review the theoretical

underpinnings and findings of this work. Though the story told here is specific to the

time period surrounding the American Revolution, the fundamental properties and

capacities of collective movement as redressive action are timeless. Moreover, by

extracting the powerful repercussions of collective movement in an event of major

historical consequence, the silent ephemeral nature of movement is recovered, its history

elevated and its capacities illuminated.

5

COLONIES IN CRISES

Clifford Geertz first popularized the metaphor of culture as text. According to

this view, we can read social activities for meaning the same way we interpret more

permanent and tangible forms of culture like literature and speech. This approach

appeals to contemporary common sense which, influenced by the age of Freud, has been

inclined to interpret everything on multiple (subvert, covert, and obvert) levels in a quest

for increased knowledge. For social scientists, Geertz’s position opened the doors of

systematic investigation to all realms of culture. In formulating standards by which these

activities could be interpreted, Victor Turner was instrumental in breaking down both

small and large-scale cultural rituals. His theories are the basis for much of cultural

studies, ritual studies, and performance studies, among other intellectual derivatives of

anthropology. 2

Ritual theory has been widely used because of its ability to connect multiple

levels of social action. It weaves the macro and micro social processes to create insight

into provocatively innovative and/or stabilizing public performances. The lens of ritual is

especially useful in examining, and making connections between, the macro social

history of the American Revolution and the micro social organization of its individual

soldiers. Turner began his groundbreaking work with the analysis of personal rites of

passage, that is, rituals that mark categorical transition in an individual’s place in society,

for example: from child to adult, single to married, wife to widow, etc. Borrowing from

2 The objects of this study do not always fit into Turner’s exact definition of ritual, since

his time the term “ritual” has widened to include many non-religious and non-formal

events. Many scholars have critiqued details in Turner’s theories, such as his essential

definition of ritual, his distinction between traditional and modern rituals, and his

dichotomous organization of the mind and body. Some scholars have indeed improved

upon his work, and crystallized its influence, with more precise definitions marked by a

contemporary perspective. Because my current agenda is not a theoretical treatise, I will

not explicate the details of this theoretical historiogrpahy when Turner’s work continues

to stand on its own competently, if not perfectly. I will deviate from Turner’s exact

theories as appropriate in the spirit of the contemporary discussions, but these differences

are not the focus of this work.

6

his theoretical predecessor Van Gennep3, Turner explains that a rite of passage is broken

down into three phases, each with its own unique characteristics: separation, transition,

and reincorporation. Separation involves symbolic actions suggesting the detachment

from a previous state or status. Transition is the highly charged phase of “betwixt and

between” that occurs as part of any rite of passage. This phase invariably has a liminal

quality that defies categorical placement. The term “liminal”, from “limin” which means

threshold, describes the moment of transition wherein reality is altered, status is

ambiguous and social differences are leveled. Such social restructuring, even temporary,

affords a unique experience that Turner defines as communitas, or the semi-sacred

experience of community. This stage of transition is loaded with potential for

transgression and consequently is the site of most analysis. Finally, in reincorporation,

the transition is completed and the new status is demonstrated for public recognition.

For the individual continental soldiers, the basic fact that they left their homes,

assembled in neutral places and took on new social status based on military rank imply

characteristics of ritual separation and liminality that are specific to the transition stage.

The implications of the communitas formed therein influenced a meta-rite of passage that

occupied the nation.

Turner’s theories are interesting and appropriate to the current discussion because

soon-to-be Americans collectively huddled in a continuous state of liminality throughout

the war years, unsure of the outcome of their rebel quest, how their new government

would be comprised or how they would deal with their independence. The American

Revolution was a sort of rite of passage, but one that played itself out on a grand scale;

Turner differentiates such phenomena from rites of passage and calls them “social

dramas.” Though duration and scale may vary in ritual or social drama, they consist of

similar structure.

Turner’s analysis of culture rests on the basic assumption that culture is not a

static system; simply put, culture is a process and ritual its insistent provoker. According

to Turner, public rituals and their social manifestations are displays of the loosely

integrated processes that make up a social system: They are “inherently dramatic

3 Ethnographer and folklorist, Arnold Van Gennep was most known for his seminal work

Rites of Passage (1909).

7

because participants not only do things, they try to show others what they are doing or

have done; actions take on a ‘performed-for-an-audience’ aspect” (Turner 1987, 4). In

his book, Drama, Fields,, and Metaphors, Turner defines social dramas as “units of

harmonic and disharmonic social process, arising in conflict situations. . . ” (Turner 1987,

4-5). He summarizes social dramas with a similar, though distinct, progression that is

common of any rite of passage:

Typically, they have four main phases of public action. These are; (1) Breach of

regular norm-governed social relations; (2) Crises, during which there is a

tendency for the breach to widen. Each public crises has what I now call lamina

characteristics, since it is a threshold (limen) between more or less stable phases

of the social process, but it is not usually a sacred limen, hedged around by taboos

and thrust away from the centers of public life. On the contrary it takes up its

menacing stance in the form of itself, and, as it were, dares the representatives of

order to grapple with it; (3) Redressive action ranging from personal advice and,

informal mediation or arbitration to formal juridical and legal machinery, and, to

resolve certain kinds of crises or legitimate other modes of resolution, to the

performance of public ritual. Redress, too has its liminal features for it is “be-

twixt and between,” and, as such, famishes a distanced replication and critique of

the events leading up to and Composing the ‘crises.’ This replication may be in

the rational idiom of the judicial process, in the metaphorical and symbolic idiom

of a ritual process; (4) The final phase consists either of reintegration of the

disturbed social group, or of the social recognition and legitimation of irreparable

schism between the contesting parties. (Turner 1987, 4-5)

The American Revolution as Social Drama

Breach

Richard Schechner, amending Turner, has argued that the first event in any social

drama, the breach, is a symbolic move that is ritualized in that it consciously goes against

established custom. Turner calls this a “symbolic transgression”. At the end of the

French and Indian War in 1763 -- in which the British had defended the American

colonies from a long-standing threat -- England saw fit to make them pay for their

defense through enforced tax collections, a ‘duty’ from which they had previously been

exempted. In 1765 England made a symbolic transgression by passing the Stamp Act,

regulating a tax on the sale of paper. The colonists, who still considered themselves

Englishmen, responded with “Taxation without representation is tyranny”. Though

8

tensions had been mounting between the colonies and the mother country, and cultural

and political differences had started to appear, the passage of the Stamp Act is generally

considered to be the first substantial breach of custom, that is, breaking the unspoken

agreement that the colonies would not pay taxes. Though the Stamp Act was repealed

underlying tensions continued to surface; the same political stance was taken up on the

passage of the Sugar Acts (1764) and the Townshend Acts (1767) and colonist were

incited to threaten tax collectors. In a series of symbolic “moves” on both sides, Britain

sent troops to protect her officials. Increased tension lead to the Boston massacre (1770)

and the Boston Tea Party (1773) to which England responded by passing what the

colonies called the “Intolerable Acts” which closed the Boston harbor, required colonists

to provide housing for British troops, and allowed rebels to be tried in England, among

other imposing ordinances aimed at establishing order. The first Continental Congress

was assembled (1774) to prepare a discursive strategy with England. It submitted the

colonies’ complaints in writing and refused to import British goods. However, before

peace could be reckoned through diplomacy, blood was shed on April 19, 1775 in what is

called “the shot heard round the world”. The colonies had reached the next stage in

Turner’s progression of social dramas: Crises.

Crises

Like the transition phase of rites of passage with its liminal quality that can

subvert social order and/or reinforce it, crises is a stage that is extremely volatile, open-

ended and provocative. For the colonists in the early stages of the crises, who operated

“betwixt and between” colony and sovereign state, there existed intense liminality on

many levels. In the beginning Congress was unsure about its approval for a forceful

revolt. The colonists, we must remember, did not unanimously support the rebel cause;

some were devoted loyalists and some simply politically undecided. Even for the rebels

with a shared interest in independence, the vision of how the new nation would be

organized, and what its significance would be, was undecided. They were in an

ambiguous state, rejecting the past and fighting towards an unknown future.

Writing about this time challenges the a writer. At what point do “colonists”

become “Americans” and what date does a writer use to start referring to the colonies as a

9

nation? Typcially, July 4, 1776 has served as the symbolic date of transition, but the

signing of the Declaration of Independence had no real affect on most people until many

decades later when historians, having hindsight to their advantage, began to mark a

change in status, which was actually much longer in duration, by referring to 4th

of July

symbolically.

Redressive Action

If the signing of the Declaration of Independence did not sufficiently establish a

new status, than what was it? Looked at through Turner’s model of social dramas, the

signing of the Declaration of Independence was a ritual of redressive action -- a

performative display of ritual symbolism that explored and legitimized an unprecedented

mode of crises resolution.

Herein lies the heart of this study: in the liminal crises of a social drama the

performance of ritual is a meta-performance. Rituals have social functions and are

enacted with a motive. 4

These liminal areas of time and space -- rituals, carnivals, dramas, and latterly

films -- are open to play of thought, feeling, and will; in whom are generated new

models, often fantastic, some of which may have sufficient power and plausibility

to replace eventually the force-backed political and jural models that control the

centers of a society’s ongoing life. (Turner 1991, viii)

Rituals, or redressive actions, are purposeful like all of our actions, but these are

formalized for presentation, using code, symbols of cultural currency that a targeted

audience can grasp. Rituals have audiences and messages. They are performances with

social functions. They are the culture’s sub-conscious acting out its fancies. As such, the

performative “acts” of a liminal society can be read like the subconscious text of a

person‘s dreams, and rituals read as the subtext of a society’s direction.

4 Turner’s theory of “ritual anti-structure” proposes that the relationship between society

and its ritual is essentially dialectic, that ritual is a prescribed mode of social protest and

social transition. This contradicts the structural-functional theory of ritual, and

conventional knowledge, that assumes ritual, essentially conservative, functions to

perpetuate the status quo. This tireless debate, however, on whether ritual is essentially

transformative or conservative really escapes logic, failing to recognize that conservative

rituals also have transformative agency -- to preserve a structure that would otherwise

change or revive one that is waning.

10

Revolutionary America is a time period rich for the study of ritual performance for

all the political reasons mentioned above, but, the time period was extremely

performative even without the consideration of world politics. The unmitigated attention

to personal display through meticulous manners and composure was characteristic of the

age. This was a trait directly copied from Europe where social status was exhibited in a

person’s manners and decorum.5

In Colonial America the presentation of manners and decorum were all the more

important because of the unsettled social hierarchy. Though colonists knew they did not

want to define class based on the European model of nobility or royalty, the ordering of

their social system was unsettled and liminally provocative.

Colonial America was a world in which daily acts of social interaction -- how one

treated other people and how one was treated by others -- were of profound

importance. Everything about the way an individual conducted himself or herself

in speech, manners, and dress designated social status. While colonial American

society may have been more fluid than British or European societies, that did not

mean that these badges of status mattered less. In fact, there was a great deal of

social anxiety about status, and those who were attempting to move up in the

world were self-conscious about having exactly the correct manner and style.

(Cox 2004, xv)

The reality of national, and cultural, independence made these unsettled anxieties more

acute. In the minute details of social composure a social drama can be read, and indeed

as the crises mounted, the performance of daily interaction became more symbolically

loaded. Turner writes,

For me the dramaturgical phase begins when crises arise in the daily flow of

social interaction. Thus, if daily living is a kind of theatre, social drama is a kind

of metatheatre, that is, dramaturgical language about the language of ordinary

role-playing and status-maintenance which constitutes communication in the

quotidian social process. (Turner 1987, 5-6)

Aside from day to day living, redressive action during the Revolution often took the form

of popular ritual in the forms of protest, print and song.

5 Goffman used a theatrical paradigm to describe all social interactions, arguing that all

levels of social interaction are rehearsed and staged, and hence theatrical. He put into

contemporary verbage Shakespeare’s “all the world’s a stage”, and while his theories are

as applicable today as in Colonial America, the perspective of time and change of

customs make the social interaction appear hyperbolically symbolic.

11

Protest -- Protest in Colonial America rarely took the obvious form of direct

remonstration we imagine today. Instead, symbolic public displays of mourning, political

toasts, and celebrations colored the activist landscape and brought dramatic political

dialogue into daily life. The first, and most important, examples of political protest

occurred in the street-theater surrounding the Stamp Act. These actions would serve as a

model for the relationship between local street-theater and the making of American

nationhood. Angry colonists symbolically killed and buried tax collectors, and enacted

“funerals of liberty” processions though the streets. After the passing of the Declaration

of Independence patriots from all colonies engaged in ceremonial “funerals” of George

III, which inversed the bonfire and bells customary to the King’s birthday celebrations.

These and other celebrations marked a public actualization of events happening on the

legal front.

Print -- If colonists could not find a deserving subject to tar and feather, they

often substituted an offended political pamphlet. In fact, it was the press that gave

national significance to these local events. Waldstreicher claims that

. . . by fostering an idea of the nation as extralocal community and by giving

ordinary people the opportunity for local expression of national feeling, this

reciprocal dynamic of celebrations and print literally and figuratively papered

over the disturbing class resentments (expressed in the antiaristocratic language of

the Revolution) that had energized much of the populace in the first place, . . . The

local came to represent the national while the present gave proof, not of the past,

but of the future. Diffused by print, the unruly rites of rebellion could serve as

ruling rites of assent. (Waldstreicher 1995, 38)

Some forms of print were much more direct. Thomas Paine’s pamphlets Common

Sense and The Crises were fundamental in motivating the populace. “Patriot writers

followed Samuel Adams’s rule for literary warfare, ‘Keep your enemy in the wrong,’ and

bombarded the Tories ‘with intermittent showers of show and shell in the form of

arguments, anathemas, jokes and jeers’” (Dannett 1973, 73).

As street festivities were common people’s protest, humor was the intellectual

weapon of the masses. The most popular print forms were the political cartoons and

12

caricatures that spread across the nation and offered revolutionary dialogue to even the

illiterate.

By deriding public events, persons, or conditions of life, caricature and cartoons

convey the very essence of the times and familiarize us with the ideals,

philosophical and political, of another era. The political cartoon, in particular,

with its tendency to satirize, points up—sometimes ruthlessly—the evils,

fallacies, and weaknesses involved in topical political or moral issues, while the

prejudices and habits of the people are accentuated by the use of popular symbols

and slogans. (Dannett 1973, 17)

Song -- Music played an important part in the lives of most colonists before the

war and during it. Interestingly, folk tunes served both to relieve tensions through gaiety

and also to incite tension through political propaganda. With familiar tunes and

memorable melodies, music was an efficient means of spreading political messages,

especially among the non-literate.6 Joel Barlow said that “One good song is worth a

dozen addresses or proclamations” (Griswald 1843, 28).

During the Revolution, war tunes functioned as a form of political activism.

Spread through broadsheets and travel, these songs were an essential component of the

soldiers’ evening activities -- and the spread of their experiences into civilian society.7

One British prisoner of war describes what was probably a frequent occurrence:

Not being able to procure private lodging, we have agreed to live entirely at a tavern.

Our most disagreeable attendant is the noise of the American soldiers who vociferate

their songs so loud that the whole house rings with War and Washington, a favourite

ballad. (Drummond 1910, 51)

At this time it was standard for patriots to resupply common folk song melodies

with timely lyrics. Easily learnt and memorable, these songs were the bread and butter of

public ritual. Anderson writes, “With the common folk, as with the aristocrats, the War

was often -- through no fault of their own -- a distant and sporadic affair; and their

musical activities sustained them through long periods of what would otherwise have

6 Songs also functioned as a sort of tabloid. One song jests at General Howe’s

controversial relationship with a local loyalist in Philadelphia.7 For a review of these songs see Kent A. Bowman’s Voices of Combat: A Century of

Liberty and War Songs, 1765-1865.

13

been pointless and frustrated boredom” (Anderson 1965, 150). These relevant folk

songs built morale and meaning through performance and observation. One such song

was “Yankee Doodle.” Originally an English drinking song used to deride colonists, its

tune was reappropriated by the rebels; it was reworded and then resituated by the

colonists to taunt the British army in a classic ritual reversal.

Protest, print, and song were popular manifestations of the social drama of the

times. These forms were wholly embraced by all levels of society, but they enjoyed their

most potent currency with the working and middle classes. Though the upper class were

certainly aware of these popular forms of expression, and participated in them, they also

cultivated more refined forms of redressive action in the form of professional theater,

music and dance. Formal performances were colored by political agendas but, also, stood

as symbolic defense of their good breeding, social status, and the American colonies’

cultural, and therefore, fundamental independence from Europe.

Entertainments -- With a more stable society in the colonies and more assured

survival, increased leisure time lead to increased cultural refinement. The performing arts

in colonial America by the mid-eighteenth century had begun to reach European levels of

sophistication. Camus writes, “the musical culture of the eighteenth-century America

mirrored that of the great European cities, particularly London” (Camus 1976, 45). Balls

would frequently follow concert-hall music performances in colonial America. In

actuality, these theatrical productions were hybrid affairs often consisting of two short

plays, a musical number, a few of dance numbers, and, be followed by a ball.

The historiographical assumption that concert music, dance, theatre, etc., were not

plentiful during the Revolution probably comes from the well-documented legislation

passed by Congress that, indeed, endeavored to outlaw such activities. In October, 1774,

Congress was preparing for austere war times and passed a resolution designed to

“discountenance and discourage every species of extravagance and dissipation”,

including the “exhibition of shews, plays, and other expensive diversions and

entertainments.” This attempt to minimalize lavishness couldn’t have been less

successful. Similar resolutions were passed multiple times during the war, providing

14

evidence that the theatrical rebuke was not respected.8 Theater historian Jared A. Brown

writes,

Indeed, the American Revolution saw more [theatrical] activity on American soil

than had ever taken place there before. British military officers—who brought

with them a strong theatre-going tradition—sponsored lavish performances of

plays in New York, Philadelphia, and elsewhere between 1775 and 1783. In turn,

a remarkable number of British theatrical productions stimulated certain

American Military officials to countenance performances given by American

officers for audiences of soldiers and civilians. This may have been illegal, but it

boosted morale and it was intended to demonstrate that Americans could compete

with the British on any level, including the theatrical. (Brown 1978, 12)

During the first few years of the war the mandate went unheeded and had to be repeated

on multiple occasions. High-ranking officers were the most common or at least most

noteworthy offenders. George Washington, always an avid theater-goer during peace

time, signed the resolution. Still, even he himself did not dutifully abide it. During the

first half of the war theatrical events and nationalistic events were purposely inseparable,

and so gave just cause to the officer’s breach of Congress’s resolution. When the event

had a nationalistic flair it slipped by the anti-theatre mandate. In 1778, The Lying Valet

was probably performed in Philadelphia for the army’s men. The published script carries

the inscription: “Printed at the Desire of some of the Officers in the American Army,

who intend to exhibit at the Playhouse, for the Benefit of Families who have suffered in

the War for American Liberty” (Odell 1927, 195). In most cases officers played principal

roles.

On October 12, 1778, in the middle of campaign season, Congress passed the

following resolution in response to local theatrical activity,

Whereas true religion and good morals are the only solid foundations of

public liberty and happiness:

Resolved, That it be and it is hereby earnestly recommended to the several

states to take the most effectual measures for the encouragement thereof, and for

the suppressing theatrical entertainments, horse-racing, gaming, and other such

diversions as are productive of idleness, dissipation, and a general depravity of

principles and manners. (quoted in Brown 1978, 16)

8 For uniquely complete reportage on Congress’s attempts to outlaw extravagance, see

“Plays and Amusement Offered for and by the American Military During the

Revolutionary War” By Jared A. Brown.

15

Only four days later Congress, with the notable opposition of New York and the

southern states, passed a resolution sharpening its attack by instituting enforceable

consequences. The Pennsylvania Packet reported,

In CONGRESS, October 16, 1778

Whereas frequenting Playhouses and theatrical entertainments, has a fatal

tendency to divert the minds of the people from a due attention to the means

necessary for the defence of their country and preservation of their liberties:

Resolved, that any person holding an office under the United States, who shall

act, promote, encourage or attend such plays, shall be deemed unworthy to hold

such office, and shall be accordingly dismissed.

Ordered, That this resolve be published. (Pennsylvania Packet, 17 Oct 1778)

However clichéd, the adage that “the show must go on” was stronger than Congress’s

resolution, and that very night, some high-ranking officials lamented the loss of a

theatrical performance. The next day the newspaper wrote in tabloid-like fashion:

A PLAY being to be performed in the city last Monday evening, the Marquis de

la Fayette being in company with his Excellency the President of Congress

[Henry Laurens], asked him to accompany him to the play. The President politely

excusing himself, the Marquis pressed him to go: The President then informed the

marquis that Congress having that day passed a resolution, recommending to the

several states to enact laws for the suppression of theatrical amusements, he could

not possibly do himself the honour of waiting upon him to the play. Ah! Replied

the Marquis, have Congress passed such a resolution! Then I will not go to the

play. (Pennsylvania Packet, 17 Oct 1778)

Philadelphia, being the strictest on this topic, in the next two years allowed only the

occasional public performance of a European slack wire act.9 However, because

individual states were slow to pass and enforce anti-theater laws, theater performances

continued during the war for most of the general public. Though the most vocal portion

of the population opposed these potent displays because of their lavishness, the majority

of the public, notably those from the highest echelons, continued to seek out such

formally performative manifestations of social drama. The indecision regarding the

respectability of performance, dance especially, would continue to play out in public

ritual throughout American history, but the prevalence of performances and

9 This circus-like performance is usually done on a low rope, hung a bit loose between

two points. It is popular for juggling, clowning, dancing and sword fighting because the

hands are free, unlike the high-wire act where the performer must hold a long pole for

balance.

16

entertainments in spite of such laws during the American Revolution indicated that these

ritual performances had negotiating potential at the crises point of a social drama.

These formal and informal performances were giving expression to underlying

processes that preoccupied the society of the time. They were diverse in their messages --

remember the country was divided -- and diverse in their functions within each

community. This mutability is one of the properties of these redressive actions that

increase their effectiveness. Unlike the passing of laws, or grand debates, the details of

these performative redressive acts could almost instantly adapt stylistically to reflect their

communities, and in doing so they were intellectually experimental and environmentally

specific. Under close scrutiny the specificity of these ritual redressive acts expose the

way a certain colonial community navigated the issues of its new identity -- that is,

George Washington’s Continental Army.

Crises in the Continental Army

The same issues that were contentious in society-at-large were accentuated in the

Continental Army. Just as Americans were liminally positioned concerning political

independence, the status of an army of regulars compared to European professional

armies was undecided. Internal issues that plagued the developing national identity were

aggravated even more under the immediate practical needs of the army. On the national

level, and also uniquely specific to the Continental army, were highly contentious issues

that surrounded social hierarchy, diversity and centralization.10

Every group of would-be

Americans was caught up in these issues, playing them out through forms of discursive

ritual, both concrete and abstract. However, the redressive acts of the Continental army

become particularly interesting when examined in the insightful light of ritual display and

its social function.

Just as a great deal of historical context must be understood in order to

contemplate the complex social transition that lead up to and accompanied the revolution,

10

Interestingly, social hierarchy, diversity, and centralization continue to be the most

contentious issues in the United States today also.

17

the Continental Army has a complex story of its own. This story has been told, in part,

by military historians, both popular and academic, on many occasions. While they differ

occasionally, the pictures they portray are fairly stark. But examinating this story

through social drama analysis, roughly following Turner’s guidelines, requires the same,

if not more, comprehensive understanding of historical context, and, it potentially

provides a more dynamic and accurate picture. The following discussion of the internal

systems of the Continental army reflects its provocative positions on social hierarchy,

diversity, and centralization.

Social Hierarchy

Military social historian Carline Cox writes,

The military community is a complex and sometimes contradictory world. It is a

legally isolated community within the larger society, yet it is not a socially

isolated one. It is community in which relations among the different ranks are

codified, that is, written into military law, within a larger society that has some

degree of fluidity. Yet, despite these formal relations, all who belong are united

in a sense of mission and shared experience in ways that are rarely felt by the

larger society. The military community has its own separate traditions and values,

but it ceremonies are largely public. (Cox 2004, xii)

Cox points out that the military is founded on a paradoxical structure. While it

serves a unified mission and prides itself in its cohesion ("all for one and one for all”) it

is highly structured according to rank and status. This paradox was felt especially

strongly during the American Revolution. As the rhetoric of egalitarianism flooded the

populace it became difficult to build an army based on social hierarchy.

Though the organizational details were defined less strictly, the Continental Army

roughly followed the structure of contemporary European armies. In its rigidly

hierarchical structure the most important status distinctions were between officers and

non-officers. This hierarchy was enforced through military and social acts, affording men

of different status different rights, responsibilities and honors.

By providing different standards of living for officers, noncommissioned officers,

and enlisted men and by providing a pay scale to support these differences, the

army emphasized the distinction of rank in every aspect of daily life. Clothing,

food, and housing all reflected military status. These different standards were not

only required but enforced through military law. It was an offence for soldiers to

act in capacities above their prescribed status and for officers to do tasks that were

18

beneath them. . . . In the military world, a clearly understood and accepted

hierarchy was essential not only to harmony but also to efficiency and,

consequently, to military success. (Cox 2004, 41)

Within the category of officers, some were commissioned by Congress or a state

legislature, and were legally defined as gentlemen. Other officers held less important

leadership positions; these non-commissioned officers, corporals and sergeants, were

generally selected for their skilled performance on the field but were not gentlemen by

definition. Paradoxically, the rigid hierarchy in the Continental Army offered literate and

motivated men an avenue for upward social mobility that would have been much harder

to navigate in the civilian world. Still such mobility would only be afforded to those

individuals who could succeed at military and social tests of manners and decorum.

The artificial ranking within the military superceded civilian social status and

functioned as a substitute for social security for the upper classes and social mobility for

the lower class. For example, a second or third son of a rich man would inherit a

considerably smaller amount of wealth and land, whereas the first son would receive the

largest share in order to keep the estate together and the family name in good standing.

The third son could enter the army as a commissioned officer based on nothing but

family standing and leave with a pension and land, not to mention the possibility of fame.

For the middle class, the martial hierarchy offered the potential for social mobility.

Recruits were given offers of land -- and therefore the right to vote -- upon the end of

their term of service.

The enlisted men, i.e. non-officers, committed to military service for a variety of

reasons. In the first years of the war, during what was called the rage militare, or a

passion for arms, many young men joined to support the political cause. As the war

continued, however, those young workers were needed at home, and as the initial fervor

wore off other factors came into play. Money was undoubtedly a motivating factor for

many lower class men. The government offered wages, a cash bounty for initial

enlistment, and eventually, the promise of land. But how important were these financial

motivations? Historians differ on this question. Some historians have argued that

financial promise was indeed principle attraction after 1776. They argue that because

only land-owning men would be eligible to vote if the revolution succeeded, lower class

19

enlistees would have little immediate political gain to motivate them to go into the line of

fire. However, to complicate this perspective, other historians claim that it was

commonly known that the finances coming from Congress were not reliable, the currency

was highly inflated and payment came at odd intervals, if at all. A great number of men,

however, stayed on despite the army’s financial insolvency. Though we cannot know the

exact motivations for service and cannot exactly place the social class of all the enlisted

men, most historians suggest that the social status of men in the army corresponded to

that in the general society. Like the society from which it recruited, men of the army

were disproportionately poor.

Also, like the society it reflected, Washington’s army was a site of undefined and

ambiguous social hierarchy. Cox writes:

The Continental army was, like all European armies of the time, an organization

that reinformed order and rank. Yet it came into existence just at the time when

existing social arrangements and patterns of deference were increasingly

challenged by the “Tumults & Commotions” of war and when political rhetoric

embraced the equal rights of men. Men of all ranks probably navigated their way

through unfamiliar terrain without any clear sense of direction. (Cox 2004, xviii)

To further complicate these unclear social definitions, the army never had enough

gentlemen to fill its officer positions. This was an unheard of situation in the British

army, which suffered from too many officers. Many officers in the Continental army

came from wealthy families but that in itself did not make them genteel. Gentility was

more difficult to define because it was comprised of one’s public persona. For the senior

officers of genteel birth and education the presence of less dignified men as officers

caused a problem because it threatened their own social status to be too closely associated

with the unrefined. Some senior officers took it upon themselves to instill and inspire

gentlemanly behavior in the new officers, with varying degrees of success.

In American society, social division at birth, though of long standing, was not

nearly so uniform and thoroughgoing as military hierarchy sought. It was less

pervasive, less rigorous, and more suspect. This newness meant that many

American officers who wanted to be gentlemen did not know how. They rightly

feared that everyone detected their ignorance. They had daily proof that their rank

did not command respect. Some quit; some turned to graft; but most tried to

become gentlemen. (Cox 2004, 87)

20

Cox suggests that the senior officers instructed a “finishing school for gentlemen” in

which social activities among the officers were as important to their training as military

tactics. Though military prowess was the clearest way to earn honor and social status,

battles were relatively rare occurrences in eighteenth-century warfare. Honor, and

gentlemanly status, was based on one’s daily conduct. Some new officers found time in

their schedule to take dancing lessons, hoping to justify their status at the officer’s balls.

The achievement and maintenance of social status by the lower officers was not,

however, altogether benign. Insecure officers who aspired for social advancement were

often overly dramatic in their daily actions, staying aloof from their inferiors and

modeling their social habits on those of their superiors which, as it will later become

apparent, sometimes adversely affected the efficiency of the army. Cox writes,

Anxious to advance and to secure the recognition of their rank as officers and

gentlemen, those who were accepted into the officers corps fiercely defended their

rights and privileges both to differentiate themselves from soldiers and to define

their status among each other. For young men of moderate means and less certain

social status, the claiming of gentlemanly status was central to their experience in

the officer corps. (Cox 2004, 23)

Still, the Continental Army did offer a uniquely American model of social mobility

and, albeit unclear, this potential was undoubtedly more important than the ultimate

outcome of the war for some individuals.

Diversity

In addition to social mobility and financial gain there were other motivations for

joining the army. Certainly, some would have been motivated by political fervor, some

by adventure and travel, while others might have joined or stayed on because of

allegiances to friends or family. Some men were recruited, and some were paid to replace

the individual who had been recruited. Many that had joined for one reason, chose to

stay under the threat of death for desertion. The multitude of motivations accounts for

the diversity of interests and attitudes represented in the forces.

The 5,000 African-American men that served in the Continental Army might have

had additional reasons to commit to the army; in many cases slaves were offered their

21

freedom in exchange for military service.11

The attitudes towards African-Americans,

however, were anything but consistent. While some Blacks served their country others

were being offered as a bounty to white soldiers, such as one slave for each year of

service to the cause. At first not accepting Blacks for enlistment, and then later pursuing

them when enrollment was lacking, Congress and Washington were ambivalent regarding

the enlistment of African-American men. During the war years there were approximately

one million men of fighting age, but recruits were not easy to come by and consequently,

the Army never met full capacity. The army never had more than 50,000 and, after the

Valley Forge winter, Washington’s army had six thousand at which point every man,

regardless of color, was heartily invited.

African Americans occasionally found themselves fighting in the Continental

Army as stand-ins for their Southern masters. Most southern African-American soldiers,

however, filled their posts as fifers and drummers. “The Virginia Act of 1776” ordered

“free mulattoes in the said [Virginia] companies or battalions shall be employed as

drummers, fifers, or pioneers” (Wildes 1938, 232). The resolution that African

Americans could serve in the army in non-combat positions, meaning not carrying

weapons, was common in the South. Baron von Closen wrote, in 1981, that he had “had

a chance to see the American Army, man for man,. . . a quarter of them were Negroes,

merry, confident, and sturdy” (Closen 1958, 89). On another occasion he observed that

the Rhode Island Regiment was three quarters Negro (Fleming 1963, 73). It is important

to note that at this point in history the army was not yet racially segregated in their

military functions or living quarters. The following British tune mocked this fact:

The rebel clown—Oh! What a sight.

Too awkward was their figure.

‘Twas yonder stood a pious wight,

And, here and there, a nigger. (quoted in Anderson 1965, 56)

Soldiers were not the only people who joined the patriotic cause. For reasons as

equally diverse as their male counterparts, women and their children joined the military

camps. Some followed to take care of their husbands, fathers or brothers. Others

11

This promise, however, was not always fulfilled by individual masters themselves, as

evidenced by the passing of the Act of Emancipation stating that any African American

that had served their term would be freed.

22

recognized a nomadic group of paid men as a good financial resource. These

entrepreneurs sold goods, their cooking and laundry skills and of course, sexual favors.

The entire “Continental Community”, a term coined by Holly Mayer that includes

campfollowers, wagon drivers, wives and merchants who had been displaced by the war,

often accompanied the camps with, or without, rations.

Whether or not women campfollowers were advantageous to the army was a hotly

disputed issue. Throughout the war Washington tried to keep their numbers low. He was

ashamed of the women's unkempt appearance and worried that their presence would drain

winter rations. In August of 1777 "he forbade any new women being permitted to

become camp followers and sought to rid all of those 'not absolutely necessary'"

(Blumenthal, 1974, 64). The Continental Army, however, had relatively few women

compared to the British forces, especially in the early part of the war. In December of

1777 the ratio of women to men in the Continental camp was 1:44, while the British, who

brought many women with them across the Atlantic, had a ratio of 1:12 (Mayer 1996,

133). Since cooking, cleaning, and washing clothes in the camp had been the domain of

the campfollowers it is easy to see how the rebels were living the low life in comparison.

Some scholars argue that day-to-day life in the Continental camps was so difficult

because of a lack of women campfollowers who would have taken better care of domestic

chores. Though Washington disliked their presence, he accepted, to some degree, their

function within camp. Also, he understood that he would lose many soldiers to desertion

if he prohibited all women, so he accepted them as a necessary evil. He never guaranteed

that campfollowers would be provided rations for their services, rather, he left that up to

each regiment commander.12

Women in camp were always viewed with suspicion and

were subject to the same rules as enlisted soldiers, even when they were not fed by the

army. Like the enlisted men, they were court-martialed, given curfews, and even subject

to regular venereal disease inspection.13

12

To his credit, in his own regiment campfollowers were given fair rations and even

sometimes paid. At Valley Forge a few huts were also set aside for them to protect them

from winter's cold. Many commanders did not treat their campfollowers so well.13

On July 1st 1777, the commander of the Delaware Regiment ordered "That the

Weoman belonging to the Regt. be paraded tomorrow morning and to undergo an

examination (for venereal disease) from the Surgeon of the Regiment at this tent except

23

The Continental Army was a diverse meeting place for different parts of society

that otherwise would never have kept such close quarters. Though their personal

interactions were not always harmonious, the common military goal and rhetoric of

egalitarianism certainly enabled some prejudices to be temporarily suspended.14

One can expect that the cultural transmissions that occurred among such a uniquely

diverse mix of people must have been crucial to the early seeds of national identity. This

perspective, however, is seen only in hindsight and at the time, tensions probably

dominated these cultural encounters.

Centralization

As the new government struggled to organize its structure, unsure how centralized

the new independent states should be, the army negotiated its own centralization of power

at a strategic level and also in individual terms of the citizen soldier’s independence. In

1775, William Tudor, the Judge Advocate General of the new Continental Army, wrote a

letter to Congress noting that “[w]hen a man assumes a Soldier, he lays aside the Citizen,

& must be content to submit to a temporary relinquishment of some of his civil Rights”

(Tudor 1775, 1). They were trying to decide appropriate punishments for the new army,

but which civil rights would be temporarily relinquished was an essential problem to an

army that was ostensibly fighting for liberty.

From the beginning Washington wanted to establish a permanent professional

army equal to that of the British. Public sentiment, however, would not allow for

anything resembling a standing army, which the rebel colonists associated with British

tyranny. Ideologically, a standing force opposed the American spirit of freedom, but a

democratic army was not practically feasible either. This tension was mitigated in many

ways through public redressive action. In one of America’s first attempts to be politically

those that are married, & the husbands of those to undergo said examination in their

stead. All those that do not attend to be immediately drummed out of the Regiment"

(Regimental Orders [Lincoln Mountain], 1 July 1777).14

Demographically, the Continental Army probably roughly reflected that of society at

large which was: 60.9% English, 14.3% Scots and Schotch-Irish from Northern Ireland,

8.7% German, 5.8% Dutch, 3.7% and 6.6 other. In addition there were 540,000 blacks

who were mostly, but not entirely, slaves.

24

correct, the wordsmith, George Washington, took to referring to his men as “citizen-

soldiers” or “freemen” to indicate their quasi-militia status, effectively distinguishing

them from the professional career soldiers. The soldiers themselves symbolically resisted

any training that went beyond the most basic maneuvers or resembled European

professionalism, priding themselves on a more individual courage and rebellious spunk.

Congress also took action to dissuade the semblance of a standing army by allowing only

short-term enlistments. The armies of 1775 and 1776 were assembled annually, and at

the end of the campaign season, usually coinciding with the harshness of winter, their

commitment was fulfilled. From the outset, Washington was outspoken in his criticism

of short-term enlistments, but it would take time and insistence to convince the public to

allow the suspension of the basic principles of liberty for the existence of a professional

army. In 1780 Washington, remembering the terrible tragedies and liabilities

experienced between 1775-78, claimed that short-term enlistments had been the principal

cause of the army’s misfortunes, saying that “the system appears to have been pernicious

beyond description” (quoted in Scuderi 1993, 29). On August 8, 1780, Nathaniel

Peabody, a member of Congress wrote,

For all this enormous toil and expence, What have we in return? A few raw

undiciplin’d troops raised for a short period; by the time they are inured to a

Camp life, And with great fatigue to the officers, and expence to the United

States, a little diciplin’d, and become in a degree martialists, Capable of rendering

Service, the terms for which they enlisted expire! (quoted in Scudieri 1993, 29).

These unresolved issues surrounding the coexistence of liberty and centralized

power were played out, and redressed through the actions and the rituals of the

continental soldiers. Until some common ground was found the army was marked most

by its inefficiency.

The negotiating of national social dramas within the Continental Army gave it a

strong liminal quality. At the same time that the Continental community negotiated issues

of social hierarchy, diversity, and centralization, it also stood face to face with life’s most

profound ambiguities. Soldiers and campfollowers coped with same issues that have

always affected people at war: death, disease, geographical dislocation, and loneliness. In

this context, surrounded by a multitude uncertainties, rituals and performative actions

were particularly ripe with meaning.

25

From a historical perspective, the rituals that molded the Continental Army in the

throws of crises were also ripe with consequence. Considering the diversity present in the

camps, a broad cross-section of society was represented. If not exactly proportional to the

nation’s diversity, there was at least representation from most groups.15

In terms of

historical consequences the mere transference of cultural information among peoples who

had previously not traveled much, must have been tremendous. Precisely this union of

diverse peoples and their cultural codes is symbolically rich material for creating

meaningful and provocative social ritual. Situated in the military, with a social structure

that superceded the normal structure, these men and women were suspended in a state of

liminality that allowed for an enhanced degree of discursive symbolic action. Social

rituals presented “The possibility. . . of standing aside not only from one’s own social

position but from all social positions and of formulating a potential unlimited series of

alternative social arrangements. . .,” which would mold the formation of the army’s

identity and the outcome of the fight for independence (Turner, 1974, 13-14).

This community, both unified and divided, was a microcosm of the entire United

States. Its rituals, though specific to its military nature, reflected larger patterns of the

social process of nation-making. And, so, in the spirit of Geertz and Turner, we begin to

look more closely at the army’s rituals and performances. We will look at the ritual

manifestation of meaning through the body in social dance and military drills, and trace

the meanings of performative displays to their redressive function within the larger

context of a national social drama.

15

With the Quakers as a notable exeption.

26

SOCIAL DANCE AS REDRESSIVE ACTION

In popular imagination the American Revolution is routinely characterized by

images of the cruel and bloody realities of war, or perhaps, illustrations of heroic men in

curled white wigs riding on emaciated horses. What is not usually included in this

patriotic picture is an evening of social dance with an incessant fiddle, tipsy women, and

soldiers sauntering through a country-dance. Even historians specializing in this time

period have repeatedly overlooked or crudely summarized the importance of the soldiers’

social activities. The lack of serious investment in such topics makes plain two

assumptions: Either the soldiers were too busy fighting and surviving to invest in

entertainment, or, while the soldiers did make such investments, the repercussions of

such frivolous merriments were inconsequential to the course of history. This chapter

aims to address this historical gap on both accounts. In fact, social dance and theatrical

performance during the American Revolution was both abundant and necessary.

Revolutionary War historians have surely been deterred from pursuing dance

research, through no fault of their own, because there is a lack of historical records

concerning this ephemeral art form that relate to the war.16

Yet, the subject of dance was

not completely ignored by Colonists in general. There were eighteenth-century dance

manuals that give figures and steps of popular dances that were published before or after

the war. While these manuals are the backbone of any understanding of eighteenth-

century dance, they are instructional booklets that do little to situate these dances within

their historical contexts. For this we must look to personal manuscripts but,

unfortunately, here the recordings of dance are extremely brief, inconsistent and

16

Kate Van Winkle Keller, a valuable independent researcher in the field of eighteenth-

century dance originally assembled much of the detailed information regarding dance

practices during the American Revolution. See George Washington: A Biography in

Social Dance and American Country Dances of the Revolutionary Era. This current

project is greatly indebted to her thorough research and diligent efforts to make primary

sources available to other historians.

27

superficial, especially during the Revolution. Though dance was absolutely interwoven

into all levels of colonial society, the reality is that it went relatively unrecorded because

of its integrated and thus unremarkable nature. Because literacy was not prevalent it

meant that, in general, only the unusual merited a written record, and dance was not

unusual. Add to this the obvious fact that an extraordinary political event was unfolding

and it is easy to understand how social dance, like most other forms of daily social

activity, was deemed less important in terms of historical record. Also, it must be

remembered that dance in America was not yet an art form that stood on its own. It was

usually integrated into a larger social event and could merely be referred to in the

mention of a song, an assembly, a theater production, or, as often happens in soldiers’

diaries, in noting something ambiguous, like “the men made merry”.

As it turns out, it is exactly the integrated nature of dance activities into various

contexts -- and consequently the scattered nature of its documentation -- that makes it so

valuable for historical study because its performance reveals, in obvious ways, the

experiences that shaped day-to-day life for the otherwise-unrecorded social lives of the

Continental Army. Though the research is tedious, for reasons mentioned above, existing

records do prove that the military enjoyed a wealth of dance, along with theatrical

performances, games, ice-skating and parades. By assembling scattered fragments of

historical records that give context to dancing, which expose meaning if not exact

appearance, a reading of history is created that places the function of social dance beyond

pure entertainment. It confirms that during the Revolutionary War social dance played a

specific role in the creation of community identity, in the maintenance of social status

and in facilitating social mobility within the Continental Army and the emerging United

States.

This chapter will explore the function of social dance during the Revolutionary

War by giving close attention to the dance practices of each social class which, for this

purpose, can be roughly divided into officers and common enlisted men. Low-ranking

non-commissioned officers are also of special interest because of their unique position

betwixt-and-between the classes. This information will trace the entire length of the war,

as well as some events before and after the war that can provide valuable context. By

introducing the basic categories of dances being done during this extended time and by

28

exploring how those dances were varied according to the nature of the event or social

class of the dancers, it becomes apparent that the impact of social events was politicized

and ritualized by the uncertain status of the rebel nation, and, that the formal structural

and performative qualities of the dances reflected specific social attitudes during a pivotal

moment in American history.

The European Social Dance Aesthetic: Form and Function

Dance in the American colonies, like much of colonial culture, was directly

informed by European traditions. As part of a long history of civic pageantry, European

courts had developed a collection of dances that fledgling Americans would choose to

imitate according to the socio-political sentiments of the time. Symbolizing the latest in

fad and fashion, these dances were constantly reinvented or re-named throughout the pre-

and post-war eras by all classes of society. Dancing masters routinely crossed the

Atlantic to learn the latest European dancing styles then returned to tour the colonies,

teaching upper-class children how to represent themselves in the ultimate style.

Dance manuals were used in the absence of an instructor or when one could not be

afforded, and to supplement the lessons – with or without the dancing master. These

documents and the dances therein teach three formalistic attributes that characterize the

aesthetic of the times and manifest the underpinnings of the ritual displays. These three

formal attributes of the dance styles articulate, kinesthetically, the social functions of the

ritually performed social events: posture, precision, and geometrical pattern.

Posture

Dances were not just idle merriments but profoundly displayed a person’s level of

education, and influenced their social position. Personal presentation was loaded with

subtle, yet symbolically significant, detail. The first training sessions, therefore, would

invariably be devoted to posture. According to the aesthetic that defined European

posture, balance was found by standing tall and firm through a vertical torso. The student

would stand heels together, toes apart, knees extended, back vertical, with the arms

29

placed in a stately manner at his or her sides. Add to this, wooden-heeled shoes, tights

and a full coat (for men) or corset (for women) and it becomes clear that the European

posture is one of effort and restraint. The body seems to reach above and beyond itself,

in spiritual terms, reflecting the Christian belief that God is above, both figuratively and

metaphorically. While the stable, vertical posture defined virtue as the control of one’s

body and the control of one’s emotions, it exuded a certain aloofness that was equated

with honor. The hands and feet appeared to be the impulse of the action while the core

remained stable. Even in the minuet, in which the upper body seems to float above fine

footwork, the hands and face are very expressive. But while the feet and hands draw the

eye's attention, the torso is of equal importance because of its immobility. This posture

can be seen in everyday comportment as well as in formal court dances, country reels, the

hornpipe, and classical ballet.

In the late seventeenth-century French dance techniques were developed at the Royal

Academy in Paris, where new principles such as turnout and intricately detailed footwork

were developed. These elements became basic and were adopted in upper-class dance

forms throughout Europe through the 1800’s.

The new dances were based on what had become classic French ballet technique,

the standard of international dance today, but which at the time was a major

physical change. While cultivated movement before this time was based on

sinuous lifting of the pavane and measure and the explosive footwork of the

galliard and volta, the new technique was firmly symmetrical, frontal and

controlled, a dance which glorified the power of the king. (Keller 1991, 10)

Though Americans did not have the presence of royalty or the court environment, upper

class citizens emulated the refined nature of the European dances with the same attention

that they gave to European fashion trends and architectural invention.

Precision

Another formal element common to the European aesthetic, and found in many of

its traditional dances, is the element of precision in timing. When Phillip Fithian, who in

1773 was a tutor at a plantation home in Virginia, watched dancing he found comfort in

the unison, the regularity of the group, and was not as interested in the charisma of the

individual performer. Though there were prescribed moments for individual displays

30

among the upper and middle classes, group dances were most appreciated because of

their precision and synchrony. Fithian observed “several minuets danced with great ease

and propriety; after which the whole company joined in country dances. . . .[I]t was

indeed beautiful to admire, to see such a number of young persons, set off by dress to the

best advantage, moving easily, to the sound of well performed music, and with perfect

regularity” (Fithian 1957, 33.)

Precision was so important to these dances that scrutiny of execution, judging by

written record, was the favorite activity of the audience. Performance and even rehearsal

were a matters of great seriousness and were enforced by sometimes exceptionally harsh

dancing masters. In observing Francis Christian teach in 1773, Philip Fithian noted that

his discipline was,

so strict indeed that he struck two of the young misses for a fault in the course of

their performance, even in the presence of the mother of one of them! And he

rebuked one of the young fellows so highly as to tell him he must alter his manner,

which he had observed through the course of the dance, to be insolent, and wanton,

or absent himself from the school—I thought this a sharp reproof, to a young

gentleman of seventeen, before a large number of ladies! (Fithian, 1957, 177)

In terms of ritual, the performance of dance in unison is usually considered to

invoke communitas. When bodies move as one they assert their commitment to

community solidarity, to each other and to observers. In their kinetic agreement the

dancers also assure their long-term commitment through dedicated acquisition of ever-

changing steps and figures. Witnessing synchronized movement is itself symbolically

potent to the observer and phenomenologically provocative for the participant. Many

people talk about this experience in terms of a suspension of individual identity which,

recalling the theories of Turner, is a liminal moment ripe for social reconstruction and

repatterning. Dances that highlight synchrony and precision can ritually endorse

individual conformity to society for the greater good, while simultaneously imbuing the

participant with a sense of security -- the safety of shared rhythm and predictability of

one’s neighbors.

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Pattern

Similar to the emphasis on precision, the role of geometric pattern is key to most

eighteenth-century dance styles. Though these two formalistic features obviously are

symbolically unifying a group of individuals and creating communitas, the ways they

accomplish this are different. Like the display of precision, patterns attest to an

individual’s conformity to the group through learned maneuvers. However, by creating a

beautiful pattern in which each person is reduced to their position within it, like a cog in a

machine, the geometric accomplishment positively reinforces the necessary mechanisms

of a social system. This aspect of eighteenth-century dance clearly embodies Turner’s

structure/anti-structure dichotomy, though the idea is more poetically expressed by

sixteenth-century poet John Davis:

Concord’d true picture shineth in this art

Where diverse men and women rankèd be

And everyone does dance a several part,

Yet all as one in measure do agree,

Observing perfect uniformity.

All turn together, all together trace

And all together honour and embrace. (Davis 1972, 133)

The use of geometric patterns has a long history in European court pageants. The

patterns created in the choreography were interpreted to accord with a representation of

the cosmos, and the symbolic presentation of the dances for the monarch, which were

performed directly in front of him, justified his position. The geometrical patterns were

highly allegorical in political and religious terms and they were understood by most of

the spectators. Though the content of the allegory had changed, the ballroom dance

practices of the Colonists would also have been read in symbolic terms.

Though men and women of the eighteenth-century probably did not discuss the

social functions of posture, precision, and pattern in their social dances, there was a

certain reflective understanding of how these formal presentations contributed to the flow

of society, which was reinforced and codified in the teachings and literature of social

etiquette and dancing. The codification of manners as viewed in dance reflected how

individuals would comport themselves in other arenas. Though many social issues were

being navigated on the dance floor, the most conspicuous function was, above all else, to

serve as a place for the sexes to interact, a place of courting, and an arena for political

32

gains through the establishment of marital ties. “Society worked by means of elaborate

systems of partronage and prefermet, and unfamiliarity with the rules could close the

door to credit, business dealings, advancement or advantageous marriage” (Keller 1991,

27).

A ball, or assembly, followed a predictable, and navigable, path. Starting in the

early evening the highest ranked man and woman present opened the ball with a minuet.

The master of ceremonies might then call more couples, one at a time, to perform a

minuet, and then the floor would be turned over to the country dances where larger

groups danced together in more democratic arrangements. At some point in the evening

tea or dinner would be served, and then the dancing would continue. Guests generally

knew in advance the schedule of the dances and programmed their partners in advance.

The rules for an assembly, though they varied slightly from place to place and through

time, were generally extremely codified and were not to be ignored.

Yet, highly structured balls were not the only venues for social dance. The

specific dances described below would have been performed in many different settings,

and while their name, melody and form would have consistency, their appearance would

have changed based on the education of the dancers, the type of event, and the amount of

alcohol the dances had consumed.

The Dance Styles

The minuet

The minuet was considered a complicated and technically difficult dance that was

performed by two dancers, one male and one female.

With their concentration on each other and moving with a basic compound step

`with four foot falls in six beats, two dancers move in unison through a symmetrical

floor pattern using the entire dance space. Bows to partner and the company open

and close the dance. The remainder of the dance consists of parallel passes across

the floor and one- and two-hand turns. (Keller, 1991, 12)

The minuet, like the courante, bouree, sarabande, gigue and chaconne was a

French danse à deux, a product of the highly ceremonial court activities of King Louis

XIV. These dances physically embodied a socio-political rite that marked status, and as

33

the minuet circulated, it transmitted this social function through Europe and America.

Though the minuet is clearly a display of physical grace and elegance, in the eighteenth

century those confirmed a person’s essential worth and position in society.

Consequently, it was taken very seriously. With so much at stake in its performance, the

minuet was always the result of arduous hours of rehearsal under the tutelage of a

dancing master.

The dance was extraordinarily complicated, not because its steps in themselves

were so difficult, but because it involved precise control over the entire body, from

the carriage and turn of the head to the position of the arms, wrists, hands, legs and

feet. By dancing the minuet in the prescribed manner (the only way permissible),

the French aristocracy nightly affirmed visually and formally their submission to

the King -- and, equally important, they did so silently, moving without speech in

time to the music and under the King’s watchful eye. (Leppert 1988, 89)

The minuet opened a ball, and being performed by the highest ranking man and woman

in the room, it blatantly established social superiority. Though new Americans did not

officially espouse the idea of noble blood, the genteel undoubtedly found comfort in the

clear display of this high social stratification. They must have been at least a little

confused about how to negotiate without titles, and the ordering of the dances in terms of

social pecking order served to mediate that discomfort.

By the late eighteenth century complicated dances such as the minuet were going

out of favor and though the minuet still opened a formal ball, the transition to simpler

forms performed by larger groups came earlier and earlier in the evening.

The English Country Dances

Originally having provenance among rural peasants, country dances had been

appropriated by the aristocracy in the sixteenth century and reinterpreted for the ballroom

in England. Considered less refined than the French court dances, country dances were

originally frowned upon by sophisticated dancing masters for their simplicity. However,

as they became the rage of the youth, the dancing masters taught them in effort to make

money while also making the youth more genteel. Manuals expressed sentiments such

as, “Every gentleman or lady who is desirous of performing country dances in a genteel,

free and easy manner [must first be] duly qualified in a minuet” (Kukes 1752, 1). With

the help of these dancing masters, who were probably trying to secure their careers, the

34

upper echelon embellished to these mirthful, simpler, traditional dances with their

chasses, assembles, and jettes, while the lower classes probably performed the same

dances with less exotic and refined footwork. Compared to the sophisticated French court

dances, the country dances still maintained an air of rusticity that some associated with

British insularity, a trait both reviled and esteemed at different times. Richard Leppert

suggests

. . .that country dance in the eighteenth century visually represented conflicting

societal values -- codes that reflected England’s ambivalence to the hegemony of

French culture. While dancing itself constituted a mark of urban and Continental

sophistication, the structure and performance of the English country dance were in

direct opposition to the fashionable French dances of the period. (Hast 1994, 46)

Though the name implies an undisciplined event, such an implication is misleading.

Looking from the twenty-first century we see that the “rustic” country dances of the late

eighteenth-century maintained an air of formal refinement. Though the steps were simple

in comparison to the minuet, the intent to show off one’s carriage and poise still

remained, and the social monitoring of these lessformal dances was no less strict.

It is told of [Colonel John Mitchell] that when a young lady who was figuring in a

square dance forgot her turn because she was conversing with a friend, he came up

to her and loudly called out, ‘Come, come, watch what you are doing; do you think

you are here for pleasure? (Chastellux 1963, 177)

The actual performance of country dances, however, probably varied greatly

depending on the occasion, and how late it was in the evening. The basic forms of the

English country dances performed in the eighteenth century are well preserved in dancing

manuals and some are still danced today. The most frequently mentioned is the longways

progressive formation. In two parallel lines facing each other, the longways is

characterized by a gradual passing of the head couple to the end of the line and back up

through a series of movements specific to each dance.

These austere imitations of peasant dances began as complex, highly rehearsed

dances, but, gradually,they became more accessible. By the mid-eighteenth century the

country dance was relatively simple. Indeed, though the basic formation was performed

by all, the longways allowed individual dancers to improvise with footwork according to

their technical abilities -- a feature that added to its popularity. Country dances were so

popular that “(o)ver 27,000 of these dances were published with their tunes in England

35

alone between 1700 and 1830. The form was particularly accommodating to the rising

middle classes for performance at public balls and assemblies” (Keller, 1991, 8).

During the Revolution country dances were invented, or more likely, renamed to

reflect topical events during the war, for example, Stony Point, Plukemin, Baron

Steuben’s Favorite, and British Sorrow were popular dances. The reasons these dances

were renamed was more than just entertaining. It was a small but significant move

toward the assimilation and transforming of the British heritage into “American” terms.

The country dances were particularly well received in the colonies because of their more

democratic structure in which everyone faced each other, the head couple rotated, and

everyone worked together as a team, which marked a departure from the rigidly

hierarchal structure of the minuet.

Cotollion

The cotillion, coming from the French contredanse, lacked the repetition of the

longways and was therefore more complex. Usually danced by four couples in a square,

it used the same steps and vocabulary as the country dances, but unlike the longways

progressive formation, the cotollion had to be rehearsed and learned completely before it

could be danced. During the Revolution a Cotollion was often a special exhibition

performance by young people, demonstrating the skills they learned in classes with a

dancing master. They became an especially popular form of presentation after the French

alliance.17

Reels, Hornpipes and Jigs

Reels were largely improvisational dances that allowed three or four individuals

in a line to show off their technical prowess and personal flair with quick footwork, while

hornpipes and jigs were usually solos. John Durang, America’s first professional dancer,

became famous for his hornpipe. His hornpipe, slackwire act, and other creative dance

acts were normally situated before the intermission of theatrical performances.

17

The cotollion is the predecessor of the American square dance and would come to

resemble it with the introduction of a “caller” who spontaneously choreographed the

patterns through a sing-song call.

36

“Hornpipes and Jigs were ubiquitous. All classes of people used them in all sorts

of places, from the opera stage to the back-water tavern, with differing results depending

on the time and place” (Keller, 1991, 13). Jigs and hornpipes were sometimes formally

composed dances presented by one or two dancers to demonstrate technical prowess.

Among the lower classes these demonstrations quite often turned into competitions. The

following anecdote is from 1760. Even as an unusual occurrence it points to the

seriousness with which men regarded their dancing abilities.

Last Saturday a melancholly accident happen’d, at a pretty horse-race near

Magothy Ricer, where William Rodwell, and Jonas Dawson, who before had had

some bickering about their skill in dancing the jigg, meeting together, Rodwell

challeng’d Dawson to try then who was the best man, as he term’d it, by boxing;

an old criterion to determine goodness! And at it they went; but after a few

blows, Dawson own’d he had enough, or that his antagonist was the best man.

When their Broughtonian exercise was over, they wash’d, shook hands, and drank

as friends; but a few minutes after Dawson dropp’d down dead, and is suppos’d to

have got his death from a blow he received on his left side. The other immediately

surrendered himself to justice. By this unhappy affair, a poor widow and five

small children are left without any support, and by far the best man of the two lost

to the community. (Maryland Gazette [Annapolis] 21 Aug, 1760)

Calenda and Ring Shout

Africans brought their own dance heritages, the performance of which reaffirmed

their cultural roots and spiritual integrity in the face of slavery. In these dances we can

see how African spirituality was brought to America in the flesh.

The Calenda, probably a family of several dances with a flexed body, posture

acknowledging the force of gravity, indicating weight and stability, was first described in

1654 in the West Indies as an expression of African celebration. In 1774, from the

mainland a century later, this quote paints a picture of the Calenda's movement--

concentrating on the hips for women and its dynamism for men.

Their tunes for dancing are usually brisk, and have an agreeable compound of the

vivance and larghetto, gay and grave, pursued alternately. They seem also well-

adapted to keep their dancers in just time and regular movements. The female

dancer is all languishing, and easy in her motions, the man, all action, fire and

gesture; . . . In her paces she exhibits a wonderful address, particularly in the

motion of her hips, and steady position of the upper part of her person; the

execution of this wriggle, keeping exact time with the music. (quoted in Epstein,

1977, 40)

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Another dance that was widely shared among slaves was the Ring Shout. More

than the Calenda, the Ring Shout was pointedly religious. Having its origins in various

parts of Africa in the form of circle dances, the Ring Shout was commonly associated

with ceremonial ancestral worship. Immediately apparent in the physicality of Ring

Shout is the rocking of the hips and the connection of the flat bare foot with the ground.

The Ring Shout carries dancers around in a counter-clockwise direction as they sing,

clap, shuffle and stomp. "The tempo may build up gradually, . . until it reaches an intense

peak close to an ecstatic breaking point. . ..The tension generated in the course of the

shout has certain approved outlets, such as ecstatic seizures or possessions" (Stuckey

1989, 3). All this spiritual movement worked towards the ultimate goal of trance, a way

for slaves to transcend their degrading condition.

Though the major players in the Revolutionary War were European decedents,

5,000 African Americans served beside white men in the Continental Army. At this point

in history Africans and Europeans displayed cautious interest in each other’s dance

practices. While most of this project focuses on European dance forms, we should

always keep in mind that the war increased the amount of cultural contact, especially in

the south, between black and white.

Dance and The Continental Army

How do the specifics of these different dances relate to the story of George

Washington’s Continental Army? The answer is that each of these dances was probably

performed in encampments, at various times and in various ways, and they symbolically

addressed the unsettled social issues that permeated the army. This is not to say that

soldiers evaluated the social problems of the time and consciously decided the best

solution was to have a dance. Such matters do not unfold so clearly. Instead, these

performances are read in terms described by Victor Turner as “redressive actions.”

Understanding the categorical crises that affected the organization of the Continental

Army (defined here as problems surrounding social hierarchy, diversity and

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centralization) these acts are taken as expressions of the collective consciousness that

explore possible modes of resolution.

In examining the presence and social function of dance in the Continental Army it

makes sense to start where the most has been written, with the upper class, from which

we can infer some of the more ambiguous details of the lower classes. In the Continental

Army, the upper class consisted of the commissioned officers. Though most of these

men were culturally educated, some would have come to the assemblies and theatrical

productions with less experience.

The officers of eighteenth-century European armies were mostly noblemen, who by

joining the service voluntarily gave up neither their civilian status or the pleasures of

luxurious living. Out of their own funds, it was customary for them to provide a band of

“musick” to play for their dinner parties, and to host balls, theatrical events and other

social activities. 18

The British officers did not go into the armed forces without culture.

They created their own theatrical companies and presented regular entertainments. The

winter months in New York and Philadelphia were filled with gaiety where the

occupying British army enjoyed lavish entertainments, as was their custom.

American officers, though not always endowed with the same resources, tried to

imitate the British officers’ taste for culture as it imitated most other elements of the

European military. Though some Americans of the puritan persuasion were less

inclined to revelry, the officers generally thought that entertainments were acts of

refinement that maintained their gentlemanly nature during the campaign. Earlier

historical accounts have left the impression for many that the only musical instruments

available in poor Continental camps were the drum and fife used on the military field.

This view, purported by historians in the early part of the twentieth century, was proven

erroneous by music historians O.G. Sonneck, Simon Anderson and Raoul Camus. Their

research on military music during the Revolutionary War surfaced records, which prove

the existence of several regimental bands that were supported by the officers. These

bands consisted of six to eight musicians who each played more than one instrument for

formal and informal occasions. Composition of American military bands followed the

18

The British officers, however, tried to minimize their expenses by inventing fictitious

names on the roster and collecting those salaries to pay for the band.

39

English example: two oboes, sometimes two flutes, two clarinets, two horns, and two

bassoons. To this might be added percussion instruments or brass. The instruments were

all conveniently portable and this combination was well suited for playing outside or for a

large audience. When playing inside for dancers or for a formal concert, the louder

instruments would be replaced by violins, German flutes, or harpiscords if available.

“American military bands in the Revolution drew their concert repertory from the

standard musical fare of the day: the popular works of Handel, Stamitz, the sons of J.S.

Bach, Corelli, Geminiani, and the works of a host of lesser contemporaneous composers”

(Anderson 1965, 91). They took their repertory for marching music from traditional

tunes or current printed materials from Europe.

Less formal and impromptu entertainment was made possible by the fact that many

officers already knew how to play musical instruments.19

The most popular instruments

played by educated men were the violin, then flute and recorder. Women usually played

harpsichord and piano. African-American musicians were central to many musical

activities in the army, just as they were before and after the war. However, during the

war, the incredibly close quarters and the ideology of egalitarianism opened up

possibilities for more interactive potential. The following quote is from the campaign

season, on September 19, 1777: “ I came back to the old shop [inn] where I lit of

considerable company with whom I spent most of the afternoon. There came in one Peter

Hawley (a black fellow) who diverted us considerably by playing on a fiddle. Mr. Blunt

was also pretty humorous in dancing, etc. I came home to my quarters at about sunset”

(Fitch 1954, 218). Though more homogeneous than the lower classes, there was still a

diverse mix of dance and music styles in the officer’s formal, and especially informal,

entertainments. One French officer described such an informal event on October 23,

1777. “We danced a jig, which reminds one a good deal of our Perigord dances. As I was

the only Frenchman, they always prevented me from entering [the jig]. After that they

19

For example, Thomas Jefferson practiced his violin three hours a day as a youth,

Benjamin Franklin played guitar, harp, and violin. Patrick Henry played violin, lute, flute,

and piano. Robert Carter played guitar, harpsichord, piano, violin, flute, and organ.

Interestingly, George Washington once told Francis Hopkinson, “I can neither sing, . . .

nor raise a single note of any instrument” (Wright 1983, 199).

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wanted to dance a minuet, but the Negro musician who was playing did not know it”

(Letters of a French Officer 1911, 96).

One officer who evidently traveled with a fiddle assembled a personal notebook of

tunes and dancing figures he encountered during the Revolution. The minuets, marches

and country dances he recorded were probably performed in Morristown. He went to

officers’ events and played the fiddle, though not for hire. He copied one minuet which

he named the “Congress Minuet.” The same tune, however, also appears in many

contemporary American and British manuals and is named as “King George III’s

Minuet.” Certainly this name change had deep symbolic meaning.

Political influences could be seen on the dance floor, evidenced by trends and

stylistic choices leaning towards French dances, and by the countless toasts to the great

alliance. After news of the French alliance spread, one English observer noted that all

“French hair dressers, milliners, and dances are all the ton. The Virginia Jig has given

place to the Cotollion and the minuet-de-la-cour,” (quoted in Keller 1998, 50). The

French Chevalier de Chastellus came with Rochembeau’s force to aid the revolutionaries

and commented approvingly on a dancing assembly he attended in Philadelphia in

December of 1780:

In Philadelphia, as in London, Bath, Spa, etc., there are places appropriated for the

young people to dance in . . . a ‘manager,’ or master of ceremonies presides over

these methodological amusements. . . .all the dances are previously arranged, and

the dancers are called each in their turn. These dances, like the ‘toasts’ we drink at

table, have a marked connection with politics: one is called ‘the success of the

campaign,’ another Burgoyne’s defeat,’ and a third, ‘Clinton’s retreat. (Chastellux

1963, 176-177)

The officers probably spent much more time dancing than fighting. There were

entertainments of all kinds at each camp, but their complexity and sophistication

increased during the war’s last, less violent years. However, even in 1778 Washington

complained that the gentlemen in the Congress would instantly ignore their business for

“an assembly, a concert, a dinner, or supper” (quoted in Anderson, Simon 1965, 119).

Plukemin, for example, was the site of the 1778-1779 winter artillery encampment,

which was very well known for the entertainments hosted by general Knox and his

amiable wife. In the bitter cold of February, General Washington opened a ball by

dancing the minuet with the hostess. In a letter to his brother Knox described it as

41

a most genteel entertainment given by self and officers. Every body allows it to

be the first of the kind ever exhibited in this State at least. We had above seventy

ladies, all of the first ton in the State and between three and four hundred

gentlemen. We danced all night. The illuminating fireworks was more than

pretty. It was to celebrate the alliance between France and America. (quoted in

Keller 1998, 61)

A month later there were more elaborate festivities. General Nathaniel Greene wrote in

a letter, “I expect 30 people to Dine with me tomorrow; and I am to spend the Evening at

Pluckemin in the palace; where there is to be a fine Ball. Thus you see we live by Eating,

Drinking, and Danceing” (quoted in Keller, 1992, 76). The next winter there would be

even more balls. In winter encampment at Morristown, George Washington and 33 other

officers organized a dancing assembly.

130 subscribers and 165 ladies were on the list. At one of the balls, a

contemporary reported that dancers made a brilliant company. Washington was

dressed in black velvet, the foreign commanders in all their lace, and Steuben in

particularly resplendent attire. In April, the Chevalier de Luzerne, the French

minister, arrived at headquarters. A ball was quickly arranged at the Morris

Hotel. It was attended by General and Mrs. Washington, other officers and their

families, Governor Livingston, and many ladies and gentlemen of the

neighborhood. (quoted in Keller 1998, 64)

Hundreds of passages like this one refer to festivities in which the officers participated.

Presumably a band of music played and the commissioned officers, their wives and local

townspeople were invited to commemorate some recent political gain.

During peacetime guests would have scrutinized a person’s dancing to ascertain

their viability in terms of potential commercial ventures or marital connections. During

the Revolution another category was added: honor of the military leader. As Commander

in Chief, George Washington opened every formal ball and was meticulously observed

by the entire audience. One observer writes in a newspaper commentary of Washington's

dancing in terms of morality:

The ball was opened by his Excellency the General. When this man unbends

from his station, and its weighty functions, he is even then like a philosopher who

mixes with the amusement of the world, that he may teach it what is right, or turn

its trifles into instruction. (Independent Ledger, 26 Feb 1779: 22,23,31).

He also appealed to the ladies, perhaps giving meaning to "with the girls be handy" of the

“Yankee Doodle” theme. James Tilton remarked: "The General danced every set, that all

42

the ladies might have the pleasure of dancing with him, or as it has since been

handsomely expressed, get a touch of him" (quoted in Keller and Hendrickson 1998, 75).

More importantly to the course of national and world history, he also elicited

compliments from the political arena: "Washington's performance of a minuet once drew

what must be the ultimate compliment: French officers present admitted that his dancing

could not have been improved by a Parisian education"(Keller and Hendrickson 1998,

14).

These are but few examples of the officers’ entertainments in the public sphere.

With a plethora of sources giving testament to the social dance practices of the officers,

there can be no doubt that these events were highly regarded, even considered essential,

among the well-to-do. For these officers and politicians, the ballroom served a similar

function that the golf course of today serves the for corporate world. It was an informal

place to establish rank and have discussions “off the record”. Moreover, balls, even

during the harshest of winter encampments, served as a site for courtship for officers.

Alexander Hamilton, among others, met his future wife at a ball in the 1780 Morristown

winter camp.

Dance during the American Revolution, as always, had performance venues other

than the ballroom. While officers performed for each other in the ballroom, they also

watched and participated in more formalized dance presentations in the theater. Though

dance presentations on the American theatrical stage were in their professional infancy,

they did exist, and were considered an essential component of the theatrical entertainment

in wartime, just as in peace. Theatrical productions were presented in theaters for locally

housed officers and, when the military camp was remote, theater facilities were

improvised, even constructed for the purpose of entertaining soldiers and officers.

January 1779 to September 1781 was a dry period for the theater in terms of

soldier participation because of Congress’s prohibition against theatrical entertainments.

It would take time and an anticipated victory for army officers to return to the audiences,

but they did return. American soldier, Lieutenant Enos Reeves, gives his account of the

1781 revival of an active theater season among the soldiers in Reading, Pennsylvania. His

letters, including cast lists, clearly indicate that the principle roles were played by

officers. His description is informative.

43

On Monday last we performed the Revenge again, with the Lying Valet for

a farce; our house was much crowded, a number of people that had not tickets

beg’d to be admitted. We had the satisfaction to hear that every character in the

Tragedy was better supported than the last evening, Carlos excepted, which was

not done so well. Leonora made a brilliant appearance this evening dress’d in a

pink silk with an extraordinary head dress.

The Farce pleased the Dutch inhabitants exceedingly; and kept them in

one continual burst of laughter.

We broke up about one o’clock, and waited on the ladies of acquaintance

home in dress. (Reeves 1897, 83)

This passage tells many things about that the quality of the performance by the officers.

These performances were almost improvisational; having rehearsed for generally one or

two weeks each the dialogue and costuming changed each evening. We know that an

evening at the theatre was comprised of several smaller performances going late into the

night. If this performance followed the model of contemporary Colonial theater, which it

probably did, there would have been a dance act or two inserted at some point. Reeves’

accounts also describe a September “Ball and entertainment” hosted by the officers,

which all the gentlefolk of the town attended. By the end of September formal

entertainments would be suspended for the more gruesome task of war. Though the

military task was a higher priority, Reeves’ accounts of plays and balls paint a picture of

a soldier’s lifestyle in which dance and theatrical entertainments remained important. On

leaving Reading he wrote,

Our detachment marched off yesterday morning for Philadelphia. I have

remained behind, having a horse and shall set off this day. The town looks

distressed since the departure of the troops, no drums beating in the morning or

evening, nor crowd of men parading up and down the Streets, nor gay officers

gallanting gayer ladies to and fro—the ladies look disconsolate and confess their

loss. I am just going to take my leave, and to horse, and away to Philadelphia.

(Reeves 1897, 84-85)

For the junior officers the ballroom held potential for upward social mobility.

While at Valley Forge one Doctor Thatcher along with some of the officers, hired a dance

teacher hoping “in due time” to be able to “figure in the ball-room” (Anderson 1965,104).

The senior officers who had genuinely come from privilege did not always approve of

granting officer-status to men of lesser ranking social status, but since there were not

enough officers to fill the need, they accepted it. In fact, social events were considered as

44

“training forums for the junior officers and furthered their indoctrination as members of

the military brotherhood” (Mayer 1996, 54).

Dance served a different function for the common enlisted men than it did for the

officers of the Continental Army. A reconstruction of these dance practices must

consider, along with political and social context, the soldiers’ theatrical and recreational

activities, availability of musical instruments, the calendar of rum rations, the political

victories and camp living conditions. Though the appearance of dance coming from the

lower classes can only be inferred, there is substantial evidence that it was a popular

leisure activity in the camps and was an invaluable contribution to morale and solidarity.

Soldiers and officers almost always socialized separately, as they were ordered, and

soldiers' activities often brought dismay to officers and nearby civilians. Records

regarding local civilian relationships with soldiers give indirect evidence of camp

rowdiness. In a letter to the editor "A True Patriot" gave his opinion on the behavior of

the soldiers. He said that though he respected their service, he deplored their frequent

balls, their excessive drinking, the cursing and swearing, and their disregard for public

worship (Pennsylvania Gazette, 7 April 1778).

Soldiers drank and swore, gambled and whored, and engaged in a number of

other diversions. . . Soldiers engaged in other forms of rowdy behavior in camp

and out as they celebrated their patriotism, from destroying symbols of the old

order to -- despite numerous prohibitions and threats of dire punishment—firing

off their weapons within their own lines. . . The soldiers entertainment, however,

generally mirrored the activities of the officers: they played ball, drank grog, and

danced and talked with a number of “fine girls”. (Mayer 1996, 60)

Though references explicitly referring to dance are rare, much of the information

available suggests that dance was a part of the enlisted men’s day-to-day life. A major

factor that must remembered is that battle in the eighteenth century was fairly infrequent;

as in any war, soldiers spent most of their time waiting for action. They probably amused

themselves in any way possible. Middle-class entertainments often involved community

games and public dances, sometimes combining the two. In a set of activities and games,

including horse races, fiddling contests, wrestling for silver buckles, there was also

included one event where “a pair of handsome Shoes be danced for” (quoted in Anderson

1965, 137). Military music historian Anderson writes about the condition of music

during the war,

45

Except in moments of full-scale combat, the general array of musical activities

prevailed among the lower socio-economic levels in a limited but normal

distribution during the War for Independence. When conditions permitted, and

conditions did permit for long periods each winter and for extended periods in

some areas, the black and white folk of the low-class and middle-class standing

sang their favorite ballads and hymns, thumped their drums, plunked their banjos,

blew their horns, and scraped their fiddles in all manner of public and private

recreational diversion and religious worship. Their instrumental efforts served a

purely utilitarian role, by and large, providing the desired musical accompaniment

for singing or for dancing. (Anderson 1965, 126)

Officially, drum and fife were only to be practiced during posted hours, and musicians

practicing at any other time were subject to severe punishment. Washington wrote,

the use of Drums are as signals to the Army and if every Drummer is allowed to

beat at his pleasure, the Intention is entirely destroy’d, as it will be impossible to

distinguish whether they are beating for their own pleasure or for signal to the

Troops. (General Orders, Valley. Forge, 9 May 1778)

This rule, however, was obviously broken on many occasions as evidenced by its

repeated statement and records of punishment about of overnight jail sentences for those

who disobeyed. Anderson writes,

The men of the unit regarded these musicians as part of themselves and grew

very attached to their music, even in social situations. Dr. James Thatcher, in

writing of the retreat from Ticonderoga in July, commented, ‘The drum and fife

afforded us a favorite music’, several bottles of wine were found amoung the

hospital stores, which undoubtedly enlivened their spirits. Chaplain Robbins

described one evening when he prayed with his brigade: ‘Sometime Tibbals, who

strikes the drum admirably, gives it a touch at the right time when we are singing

-- it is beautiful harmony. A soft fife is also an addition. (Anderson 1965, 130)

Blurring of color boundaries often occurred at dancing events because of the African

Americans’ reputation for talent on the fiddle. Many African American musicians

attained a certain level of regional notoriety and were specifically requested for special

events, thus contributing to some degree to officer-soldier interactions. For the officers

they played minuets, allemandes, gavottes, and the country dances of the day.

An aristocrat among Negro musicians was Sy Gilliat, body servant to Lord

Botecourt, who was the official fiddler at state balls in Williamsburg. He wore an

embroidered silk coat and vest of faded lilac, silk stockings, and shoes with large

buckles. He also wore a powdered brown wig, and his manners were said to be

“as courtly as his dress.” Another Negro musician, known as London Brigs, who

became Gilliat’s assistant after the capital was moved from Williamsburg to

46

Richmond, was reputed to be equally skillful on the flute and clarinet. According

to Samuel Mordecai, “To the music of Gilliat’s fiddle and London Brig’s flute all

sorts of capers were cut.” (quoted in Anderson 1965, 132)

Though the music played for the white upper-class masters maintained its European base,

the music of African Americans in their quarters (mixed with whites) would have been

another story. Anderson writes:

Put 5000 Negroes, only a generation or so removed from this African music, into

the Continental Army of God-fearing, hymn-singing colonists, and the conditions

are ideal for what Chase calls ‘the musical syncretism of West African and

European elements’ in the music of the American Negro. (Anderson 1965, 133)

Remembering the many hours of idealness, and unending boredom that

characterize a soldier’s lifestyle, I believe there would have been a lot of ‘show and tell’

in the barracks comparing song and dance styles from their different hometowns and

diverse cultural heritages. Songs might have been taught and dances shared between

people who would otherwise not have such an opportunity. In addition to exchange

among themselves, the close proximity of lower and upper classes within the military

camps probably allowed for a great deal of unprecedented exchange and imitation from

both sides.

Though the exact appearance of the dances of the lower class cannot be confirmed

by period sources, given what is known about the types of dances popular of the period,

the diverse nature of the men, the presence of the campfollowers and the model provided

by the officers I can speculate what might have occurred on many evenings at camp.

Dances of the lower class would have probably been similar to those of the upper class:

country dances, jigs, and hornpipes, though performed with stylistic differences. The

men would have probably assembled their country dances in the simple patterns that were

largely similar to those happening in the upper-class ballroom. The contrast, I believe

would have been most easily seen in the articulation of the feet. Where the upper-class

cultivated precise and specific balletic steps, the lower class might have skipped their

way through the patterns. Judging from their actions in other arenas, I do believe,

however, that the attention to erect, vertical posture would have present in the lower

classes. Especially for the lower class, this temporary attention to posture elevated their

symbolic status.

47

The most important difference in dance styles of the classes would I think be

apparent in the lower class preference for solo, and consequentially improvisational

dance styles such as jigs and hornpipes. These dances are perfect for a gathering of men

because they do not require partners, but more importantly, because these forms are

inclined to competition. Like non-war lower class events, competition fueled the fire and

in social dances even informal competition drove the impulse to innovation. Soldiers

probably pushed their solo dances to be faster, higher, and more intricate in order to

compete. Like any group of people together for a long time, the soldiers probably

developed a local lexicon of popular ‘moves’. Remembering the cohabitation of black

and white, Irish and German, etc. . the community of enlisted men and campfollowers

might very well have been the beginning of a truly American dance aesthetic.

Looking at the forms of the dances, and how they were used by upper, middle and

lower classes, illuminates some of the possibilities for their social function as redressive

action. The formalistic aspects, defined here in terms of posture, precision, and pattern,

when performed by the liminally suspended Continental Army, took on more layers of

significance. For the officers, who coveted their social dance activities, the ballroom and

its figures organized through ritual enactments a desirable template of social status and

political organization. For the enlisted men, social dance activities obviously provided

relief from boredom and the harsh living standards, but those activities also probably

helped to forge alliances between the individual members of its diverse community,

creating a common expression in kinesthetic terms.

48

MILITARY DRILL AS REDRESSIVE ACTION

“The Dance”

(sung to the tune of Yankee Doodle)

Cornwallis led a country dance,

The like was never seen, sir

Much retrograde, and much advance,

And all with general Greene, sir

They rambled up, they rambled down,

Join’d hands, then off they run, sir,

Our General Greene to Charlestown,

The earl to Wilmington, sir

Greene, in the south, then danc’d a set,

And got a mighty name, sir

Cornwallis jigg’s with you Fayette,

But suffered in his fame, sir

Then down he figur’d to the shore,

Most like a lordly dancer,

And on his courtly honour swore

He would no more advance, sir

Quoth he—my guards are weary grown,

With footing country dances,

They never at Saint James’s shone,

At capers, kicks or prances.

Though men so gallant ne’er were seen,

While saunt’ring on parade, sir

Or wriggling o’ver the park’s smooth green,

Or at a masquerade, sir.

Yet are red heels, and long lac’d skirts,

For stumps and briars meet, sir

Or stand they chance with hunting shirts,

Or hardy veteran feet, sir.

Now hous’d in York, he challeng’d all,

At minuet or all’mande,

And lessons for a courtly ball

His guards by day and night com’d.

This challenge known, full soon there came

A set who had the bon ton,

De Grasse and Rochambeau, whose fame

Fut brillian pour un long tems.

And Washington, Columbia’s son,

Whom easy nature taught, sir

That grace which can’t by pains be won,

Or Plutus’ gold by bought, sir

Now hand in hand they circle round

This ever dancing peer, sir;

Their gentle movement soon confound

The earl as they draw near, sir.

His music soon forgets to play—

His feet can move no more, sir,

And all his bands now curse the day

They jigg’d it to our shore, sir.

Now tories all what can ye say?

Come—Is not this a griper?

That while your hopes are danc’d away,

‘Tis you must pay the piper.

FINIS

(Pennsylvania Packet, November 27, 1781)

50

Though this ballad clearly refers to the eighteenth-century social dances discussed

in the previous chapter, the story it tells is one of military warfare. The metaphor is apt,

and frequently used, because of the spatial dynamism of both forms. It is easy to imagine

that from a distance, two armies facing each other in parallel lines exchanging vollies

would resemble the very popular longways for “as many as will. Advancing and

retreating in unison, flanking right and left to the musical cues given by drum and fife --

the comparison is unavoidable. Though the parallel is visually obvious, it has yet to be

explored as a salient factor in the history of the American Revolution.20

As long as there have been armies, it has been known that the goals of military

drill extend far beyond the physical execution of orders. I will analyze the symbolic

importance of military drill on three levels: within the soldiers’ ranks, against the

opponent, and in public ceremonies, drawing attention to the performative nature of

military drill and its symbolic implications. Viewed as symbolic performance, drill,

though not traditionally considered to be within the realm of dance scholarship, runs an

interesting parallel to social dance.

This chapter will place the drill of the Continental Army in historical context.

Like other American traditions, military tactics were taken directly from European

predecessors and adapted to American experiences. More important than the details of

execution, Americans adopted the European tradition of reading drill and political

parades in allegorical terms. For the Continental soldiers, their opponents and their

civilian audiences, these events where symbolically charged ritual events that addressed

and redressed many social crises of the day.

The European Military Drill Tradition: Form and Function

Marching in time, stopping, turning and shooting a firearm are the basic

maneuvers of the parade field and, compared with the more complex movements and

20

William H. McNeill’s book, Keeping Together in Time: Dance and Drill in Human

History, traces the historical connections between the two forms and argues that

collective movement has radically affected the course of human civilization. His work,

though it does not deal directly with the time period concerned here, was imminently

valuable to this project.

51

timing of the ballroom, they seem rather simple. Military drill movements, however, can

be seen as a distillation of the movements from the ballroom: ballroom at its basics. As

such, the values manifested in the drill movements are more obvious. Both forms

display in their structures the importance of posture, an unrelenting demand for precision,

and a spectacular accentuation on patterns.

Posture

The first lesson in drill, like dance, was usually focused on posture. The erect

soldier’s pose was simultaneously a representation of his personal honor and his

submission to his superiors. When he composed his body into the vertical, slightly turned

out ideal demonstrated by his drill sergeant, he symbolically adopted a variety of personal

character traits that prepared him for combat. This posture is visually affective, but it is

also affective to be felt. Contracting the muscles in his torso, he feels the physical

strength at his core and this force emanates through his body and into his emotions as

confidence. His silent attention, eyes forward and still, calm him and make him ready to

respond.

Posture is a symbolic expression of personal worth. In both 18th

century dance

and drill “good” posture was equated with a class distinction. In social dance this

distinction was clearly an effort draw lines between those of education and wealth and

those without, a fuzzy distinction in colonial America without distinguishing noble titles.

In the Continental Army, attention to posture was often lacking in the early years. John

Adams recognized the soldiers’ shortcomings during a parade through Philadelphia “Our

soldiers have not quite the air of soldiers. They don’t step exactly in time. They don’t

hold up their heads quite erect, nor turn out their toes so exactly as they ought” (Scudieri

1993, 198). Later in the war, good posture came to represent military professionalism,

also a very gray area in Colonial definitions.

Precision

When most people imagine military drill, precision is one of the first defining

52

factors that comes to mind. In a “good” drill, like a good cotollion or country dance, the

exactness of the movements and absolute synchrony of group is almost mechanical. In

drill this mechanical precision, augmented by their identical posture and uniform, makes

them appear interexchangeable as individuals, privileging the common task and not their

individual part in that task. Through the training process and eventual precise

performance of drill maneuvers on the parade or battlefield, one actualizes his dedication

to the greater whole.

More importantly, the precision of their movements gives the impression that

they will reliably respond to commands as one man, even in the face of death and

destruction. The impact of precision is that it intimidates the audience and the opponents,

while it provides safety those who move together in synchrony.

Pattern

Finally, pattern was another formal characteristic that connected eighteenth century

dances and military drill. Through the collaborative creation of a geometrical shape or

spatial formula each person’s performance was a piece of a puzzle. The satisfaction in

these performances, whether they were in the parade field of ballroom, was the

submission to a goal larger than the individual. By giving effort to the pattern as

indicated, the soldier is subsumed by the shape, and the individual is absent-at least until

the end of the event.

The use of geometrical patterns has a long history in the European political

pageantry and military parade, where elaborate patters were created to exalt the monarch.

Military parades, stately processionals, formal audiences, and the occasional

appearances before a thronging crowd kept carefully at a distance: these were the

characteristic expressions of political ritual in the deeper past. . . . Enthusiasm and

spontaneity were inappropriate. Playing an assigned role with practice precision

was what mattered. (McNeil 1995,101)

These formalistic attributes do not exhaust the symbolic potential of military drill but

only begin to articulate that effect. What is most remarkable about these formalistic

qualities is that they hardly need explanation, and most people have probably had an

experience moving in unison with others and understand the sense of communitas that is

felt.

53

By putting these formal qualities in historical context, we can understand -- almost

kinetically -- how such an experience might have been significant in the lives of the

Continental soldiers.

Symbolic Function

It is useful at this point to breakdown three levels of influence where the

symbolism of military drill is felt. These “levels” do not actually function independently

of one another in practice. Still, it is worthwhile to dissect their differences in order that

none may be lost in the following discussion.

Symbolic function for soldiers. Though the professed goal of military drill is to

facilitate violent engagement with an external force, it is also common knowledge that

military drill serves an internal function to the army in the facilitation of espirit de corps,

or a shared feeling of morale and community solidarity that parallels Turner’s term

“communitas”. Through the experience of kinetic cooperation en masse, the individual

soldier identifies himself as a part of a larger mission.21

This social function of drill is

seen especially clearly today when technological innovations have all but eliminated the

tactical usefulness of drill techniques in contemporary warfare. And yet, such training is

still considered fundamental for its psychological capacities. During the American

Revolution this capacity of drill was understood even if it was not clearly articulated in

such terms.22

Symbolic function for opponents. Though the social function of drill to unify

soldiers is important on its own, it has traditionally been subsumed in the discussion of

tactical function. Admittedly, this happens because the two are so closely intertwined. In

the course of military and political history the internal and external influences of drill

become inseparable, a point that is fundamental to every army’s core dynamics. The

unifying effect of drill an army is indeed felt by their opponents in concrete ways. There

are, however, also symbolic functions of drill that are directed at the opponent.

21

Though movement in unison seems to be a universally uplifting experience, scientific

research on this phenomenon is noticeably lacking.22

It is only since this technological advancement that scholars have begun to revise the

function of drill training in history, considering seriously for the first time that its social

function might be more important than its tactical function. This shift explains why the

social function of drill seems plainly obvious today.

54

Especially in the time period of concern here, battle involved a great deal of performance.

Elaborate etiquette surrounded the proper timing for assembling a battle force, which side

should fire first, appropriate pauses as necessary, and ceremonies of surrender.

Washington did not exaggerate the metaphor when he wrote at his retirement: “Having

now finished the work assigned me, I retire from the great theatre of Action”

(Washington, Address to Congress on Resigning His Commission [Annapolis], 23

December 1783). Battle of the eighteenth century was performative by nature, and drill

tactics provided the choreography.

Symbolic function to society. Drill is a military activity and also a form of

spectacular performance. In 1591 one officer recognized the role of military drill in

public relations: “according to the stroke of the drum . . . so shall they go, just and even,

with a gallant and sumptuous pace; for by doing so they shall be honoured and

commeded of the lookers on, who shall take a wonderful delight to behold them” (quoted

in Farmer 1950, 15-16). In the case of the Continental Army drill was used more often in

performance of ceremonies than on the battlefield. Marching together in formation is a

ritual display of group cohesion, and in the political climate of war it is rich with

symbolic implications for an observing audience. Ceremonies and parades in the

American Revolution, like their European predecessors, where often given to honor

leaders. The more elaborate the ceremony, the better it reflected on that leader. These

ceremonies were especially important in managing civilian relations and diplomatic

relations with the French forces.

Military Music

The music that keeps time for the march has typically been seen only for its

contribution to military tactics on the field. However, with more information it becomes

clear that as music became more and more a part of field maneuvers it also found

55

expression within the army itself and through public ceremonies. The music cannot be

separated from the drill, and so it will be considered as its partner.

As Western armies increased in size, oral commands were quickly insufficient to

command complicated maneuvers en masse. Drum and trumpet signals became standard

for mobilizing and positioning troops in a systematic way. Musical cues were introduced

to coordinate field and camp duties. Historian of military music Raoul Camus writes,

While the first signals seem to have been merely blasts or taps on an instrument,

by the seventeenth century the various camp duties and military signals had been

associated with specific melodies or rhythms. In addition to the standard

commands used in battle, signals such as reveille, retreat, and tattoo assumed

definite form, both musical and ceremonial, and became an integral part of the

soldier’s daily routine. (Camus 1976, 4)

In seventeenth-century Europe each nation had its own rhythm, which it blared as its

insignia, and kept specific tempos, usually with a normal and fast variation. “Drill

manuals prior to 1759 did not specify the length of the step, nor the tempo of the cadence,

but in that year the Windham plan, published in London, specified a 24-inch step at the

rate of 60 per minute for the common step and 120 for the quick” (Camus 1976, 7).

The fife and drum corps were, in all armies, central to the execution of drill practices

because they indicated the speed and direction of the march. William McNeil credits

Marshal Maurice Comte de Saxe (1696-1750) as the first to articulate the efficiency of

complex musical accompaniment to counter fatigue on a march. “Have them march in

cadence,” Saxe explained,

There is the whole secret, and it is the military step of the Romans. . . Everyone

has seen people dancing all night. But take a man and make him dance for

quarter of an hour without music and see if he can bear it. Movement to music is

natural and automatic. I have often noticed while the drums were beating for the

colors, that all the soldiers marched in cadence without intention and without

realizing it. Nature and instinct did it for them. (Saxe 1944, 30-31)

The same musicians that provided measure for the march would eventually

contribute to the army in non-martial ways. They provided a musical canvas to parading

and all forms of ceremony that accompany military activities. They could attract citizens,

and potential recruits with a display of fanfare. These same musicians could also provide

entertainment for evening social events, sports events and riding exhibitions, all the while

contributing to good public relations which were often strained when a large military

56

force of hungry men were based near a civilian population. While the end goal of these

various activities in some way supported the goals of the soldiers’ mission, it is important

to note the diversity of these pursuits.

The martial music tradition came to the colonies through imitation of the English

military who supported a drum and fife corps and “bands of musick” to play for the

officers’ entertainments. In the early stages of the American Revolution, Washington

obviously thought musical accompaniment essential to military success. He ordered,

the music of the Army ring in general very bad it is expected, that the drum and

fife majors exert themselves to improve it, or they will be reduced and their

extraordinary pay taken from them. Stated hours to be assigned for all the drums

and fifes, of each regiment, to attend them and practice -- Nothing is more

agreeable, and ornamental, then good music; every officer, for the credit of corps,

should take care to provide it. (Washington, General Orders, 4 June 1777)

Washington was also clear that the military’s music had a presentational function as well

as a tactical one. Drummers and fifers were used for parades, recruitment, and many

other public functions.23

Washington charged the musicians with setting a proper tone

for a proper presentation of the fledgling nation’s army, warning them that their manner

should be appropriate to the occasion. He ordered the musicians to play the quick-step

with great “care” and “with such moderation that the men may step to it with ease . .

.without dancing along or totally disregarding the music, as has been too often the case”

(Washington, General Orders, 23 Aug 1777)

The Shape of Warfare

In approaching the subject of military drill, especially from an outsider’s perspective,

it becomes apparent that the drill, like so many military activities, is deeply imbued with

tradition. Powerful military legacies are passed orally and corporally through generations,

and unlike social dance, for example, great care has generally been given to the written

documentation of this legacy. A short summary of European military traditions, and the

23

The drum and fife players held positions of honor. Beyond their duties as musicians,

for example, it was often the drummer who had to approach an enemy in parlay, drum

offenders out of camp and administer corporeal punishments.

57

lineage of great transitions that mark this legacy, will contextualize drill practices of the

Continental Army.

The 4th

century B.C. saw the largest most complex armies in early European history,

the likes of which would not be seen again until the nineteenth-century. It was through

the army of Alexander the Great of Macedonia that civilization came to Western Europe.

He used the highly sophisticated techniques of warfare practiced in Greek city-states,

using phalanx (a mass of infantry holding pikes) with a heavy emphasis on cavalry,

archers, and slingers. The Romans later inherited his territories and his military styles.

They conquered to the north and west, improving on the military techniques but keeping

the same general form.

With feudalism, warfare in Europe became more widely relegated to the higher-class

knights and lords, occasionally calling upon untrained citizens to take up arms for their

lord. This division of social class within the military would have a long lifespan. Coming

full circle, in 1700 national armies once again came to resemble the massive ancient ones

of Alexander the Great and the Roman empire, with the exception that firearms were the

primary weapons, armor was not used, and field patterns were more important.

Though the motivations for war had changed because of the emergence of nation-

states and the strategies of war had changed because of the evolution of gunpowder, the

mark of feudalistic warfare was still apparent in the organization of the European army

up to and through the American Revolution. The infantry now began to assemble in

lines, instead of blocks, to maximize their firepower. Their formations became more

complicated and their ability to respond to orders collectively was more necessary. In this

context of increasingly complicated maneuvers and social inequality, military drill took

on new significance. Historian William McNeill writes

Maurice of Orange had introduced incessant drill to the Dutch army in the 1590s,

and it spread across Europe like wildfire in the ensuing half century. One obvious

reason was that well-drilled troops were more efficient in battle; but an additional

advantage was that it became safe to arm even the poorest classes, pay them a

pittance, and still expect and secure obedience. The emotional resonance of daily

and prolonged close order drill created such a lively esprit de corps among the

poverty-stricken peasant recruits and urban outcasts who came to constitute the

rank and file of European armies, that other social ties faded to insignificance

among them. Such troops soon came to constitute a cheap, reliable instrument in

the hands of the European statesmen and generals. (McNeill 1982, 3)

58

Instead of individualized hand-to-hand combat, soldiers trained in linear warfare were

expected to move in all directions as a unit. “The soldier now was required to function as

a part of a team, almost as an automation, obeying strictly whatever command was given

him by his superiors and never acting independently without orders” (Camus 1976, 6).

Drill in the Continental Army: Resistance and Compromise

By the time of the French and Indian War (1756-1763) linear warfare was state of the

art and the Prussian armies of Fredrick the Great were the most organized armies in

Europe. By mid-century, theirs was the model to imitate. Imitation, however, would

not be acceptable for the American public. Their successful tactics against the Native

Americans in the rugged frontier led them to discredit linear warfare’s appropriateness to

the American landscape. The new Americans prided themselves instead on their rough

and ready militia who specialized in skirmish techniques and excellent marksmanship.

These were the lessons learned from two centuries of warfare in the colonies.

The militia in the colonies varied from region to region, but typically pulled from a

large proportion of the male population. They were willing and ready, and virtually

untrained as soldiers. For more challenging operations the Provincials, a professional and

more trained force, were regional regiments based on the example of the British Army

that were appointed by governors. The Provincials, with help from the militia, handled

all military activities from 1670 up to French and Indian War. At that point the British

regular army was brought over, and the Provincials were relegated to supporting roles.

Their rugged tactics were disrespected by the more professional, but struggling, British as

they navigated warfare on the unfamiliar American terrain. This experience would leave

a lasting mark on American military tactics.

Resistance

After the war, England wanted to keep a permanent military force stationed in the

colonies and wanted to tax the colonies for this protection. While legislation regarding

59

taxation, of course, was loaded with political controversy, it was also offensive because it

proposed a standing army (codeword in Colonial America for ‘tyranny’) to police British

rule, a point proved for many Americans by the Boston Massacre

As tensions mounted some of the local militia rather quickly formed into more

formalized regional regiments. Before the war rebel citizens had begun to study military

maneuvers exercised by European armies and drilled in preparation for armed resistance.

A rage militare swept the country, “As mobilization progressed, they enthusiastically

celebrated the citizens’ rapidly acquired skill in the manual of arms and in field

maneuvers. An observer who believed what he heard would have concluded that the

survival of liberty depended on widespread voluntary submission to military discipline”

(Royster 1979, 25). But as the war began in earnest it became clear that state militia

were no match for the professional British army. The rage militare wore out, and men

who committed to serve in Washington’s Continental Army were resistant to instruction

in field maneuvers. “At the beginning of the war, Americans had simultaneously claimed

to have these skills and scoffed at the British army’s reliance on such rote. Americans

wanted to have the proficiency but did not want anyone to think that they needed it”

(Royster 1979, 219). They viewed the British soldiers as slaves to the officers, and as a

living example of tyranny. In contrast, they prided their own army’s superiority on two

factors: “Americans use only the essentials of drill without an intricate, unnecessary

dumb show; and Americans possessed ‘natural’ or ‘native’ or ‘innate’ courage . . .

Timothy Pickering, explained that intelligent citizens, who fought by choice and used

their wits, did not need this charade. Many American soldiers refused to learn it”

(Royster 1979, 25, 70).

Unlike the British regulars, for Americans the decision to serve in the Continental

Army was not a career choice but a temporary suspension of their normal role as a

citizen. Their accusations of British tyranny, their calls for personal liberty were not

easily forgotten when they submitted themselves to the command of the hierarchical

military institution. The enlisted men therefore “placed strict limits on the

professionalism of their army. . . Though willing to risk their lives in battle, they were not

willing to surrender their rights (real or perceived) to the army” (Klemme 1997, 3-4).

60

Their refusal, or disinterest, in military drill after the initial rage militare was a symbolic

protest of such professionalism.

As Americans liked to point out, this shortcoming did not necessarily keep men

from fighting well. However, it did mean that they had few guides for their

conduct in battle other than their commanders’ orders and their own spirit. One

unit might renew the attack repeatedly. Another might see bayonets and run. Or

the same might do both in turn. (Royster 1979, 70-71)

While the enlisted men submitted only to the most basic of training, the officers

offered another type of symbolic protest. Prideful commanders, who would not even sink

so as low as to drill men themselves, resented any attempt at standardized training, which

they read as an infringement of their powers and presaged as a slippery slope to a

tyrannical central government. The issue of drill was obviously loaded with symbolic

controversy. However, as it becomes apparent, it was also loaded with symbolic

potential.

What the people wanted from the army was very different from what the Commander

in Chief wanted. When George Washington and his senior officers thought of a regular

army, “they thought of the armies of Europe, especially Britain’s, officered by gentlemen,

disciplined by force, maneuvered in the field by elaborate formulas. Although the

generals publicly appeared in the spirit of freemen, the American soldiers’ sense of

personal freedom at first seemed to be a military drawback” (Royster 1979,70). On more

than one occasion, battles ended because of unorganized, and unauthorized, retreats

initiated by soldiers.

Compromise

Eventually, Washington convinced Congress that his civilian-army would need to at

least have the appearance of professionalism. By personal inclination, and later by the

command of Washington, American officers were well read in current European military

theory. Both the authors and readers argued that the rugged American terrain changed

the tactical necessities and so Americans looked to European models only when and if

they fit the specific nature of the American conflict. “Nathaniel Greene summarized this

attitude in December 1777 when he cautioned a council of war that "experience is the

best of schools and the safest guide in human affairs -- yet I am no advocate for blindly

61

following all the maxims of European policy, but where reason corresponds with what

custom has long sanctified, we may safely copy their Example" (Wright 1983, 140).

The Continental officers, not generally having previous military experience, often

drew from Prussian, French and British military literature and tradition.24

In

presentation the officers looked towards the Prussian influence:

Although Frederick the Great of Prussia dominated military science at mid-century,

his success came from his personal genius and incredible capacity for work. His

Army, trained through years of drill, resembled a machine. The widespread imitation

of the Prussian Army only mimicked its external forms. (Wright 1983, 139)

For military theory French influence was sought. As the French nursed their wounds

from their humiliating defeat in the Seven Years War, their retrospective analysis had

debated the efficiency of “heavy, massed infantry formations assaulting with the bayonet

(the ordre profond) and proponents of linear tactics that maximized infantry firepower

(the ordre mince)” (Wright 1983,139). In 1766, Comte de Guibert introduced to the

French War Ministry a compromise, called ordre miste, which stressed flexibility and

utility. “Infantrymen, trained for both line and light infantry duties, deployed in line,

column, or a combination of both, depending on the tactical needs of the particular

situation” (Wright 1983, 139).

Yet it was the British influence that was the strongest in matters of detail, procedures

and organization. The British were not yet as theoretically flexible with their troops who

came late to the skills of linear battle.

There were other assorted influences. Interested in flexible, American-style tactics,

officers also had a particular concern with petite guerre, or partisan operations. This type

of warfare was well suited to the American terrain and values. Responding to public

interest, Thomas Church's History of the Great Indian War was reprinted in 1772. “First

published in 1716, this account of the ranger tactics developed between 1675 and 1715

by Col. Benjamin Church in operations against New England Indians, was the only

significant American military work published before the Revolution” (Wright 1983, 139).

Prussian drillmaster Friedrich Wilheim von Steuben is given credit for turning the

dispirited and motley group into a "real" army.25

Earlier Thomas Conway had been given

25In the PBS cartoon set during the American Revolution, called Liberty's Kids, the voice

62

this task as someone who had served in the French army, but the Continental soldiers did

not like the uninspiring, arrogant foreigner, and they were unwilling to learn from him.

When Prussian drillmaster Friedrich Wilheim von Steuben arrived in America in late

1777 as a volunteer to Washington’s service, he brought his experience with the Prussian

and French armies. His inspection, however, found most of the army’s practical

knowledge to be based around the 1764 British manual. As the Inspector General and in

charge of instilling standardized training in drill maneuvers, he used that manual as his

springboard in the training of Washington’s army. As he later wrote Franklin,

"circumstances. . . Obliged me to deviate from the Principles adopted in the European

Armies.... Young as We are, We have already our Prejudices as the most ancient Nations,

[and] the prepossession in favor of the British service, has obliged me to comply with

many Things, which are against my Principles" (quoted in Wright 1983, 50). Steuben

also understood the individualistic Americans’ uneasiness with drill formulas, and

therefore could not teach the “the entire system of drill, evolutions, maneuvers,

discipline, tactics, and Prussian formation, …’ and writes, “…I should have been pelted

had I attempted it, and should inevitably have failed” (quoted in Royster 1979, 218). He

simplified the 1764 manual of arms, added the best of the Prussian methods, and

completed the training by equipping the army with the flexibility that had recently been

argued for in French military theory.

Steuben’s genius was in recognizing the strengths of the Continental soldiers and

customizing a drill system that could capitalize on those strengths. He maximized

American skill in musketry by slowing maneuvers, slowing tempo to allow for greater

accuracy. More importantly, he introduced bayonet training. It was a weapon with

which they had no experience; not knowing how to wield the bayonet, it inspired fear and

retreat on the battlefield, while its only use for the Continental soldier had been as a

cooking utensil. Skill in the manipulation of the bayonet might have been more important

than the field maneuvers, and was certainly more appropriate to the men’s sense of

individualism.

They practiced going from marching columns to an attack line and reverse.

for Steuben's role is played by none other than the actor-turned-patriot, California

Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger.

63

They learned to march at least four abreast, in close file, enabling better discipline, less

straggling and most important quicker arrival at battle. The patterns that Steuben taught

were typical to warfare of the period and mostly linear. From a distance an observer at a

parade would have noticed lines and squares moving in unison, usually keeping in several

square shapes as they crossed the field. Other patterns were sometimes used for specific

ceremonies, such as receiving a honored guest or a formal surrender. In these situations,

soldiers would often form parallel lines that demarcated the path to be followed. Though

these patterns created spectacle because of their immense size, there was not a great

attention played to intricate patterning. The goal, even in performance, was simplicity

and effectiveness.

Steuben produced a simple but efficient method for maneuvering on the

battlefield. Like Guibert and other French theoreticians, he used both column and

line to achieve tactical flexibility. Divisions and brigades marched in closed

columns for speed and control and rapidly deployed into line for musket fire or

bayonet charge. Skirmishers, either light infantry or details from line units,

covered the columns during advance or withdrawal. They kept one hundred yards

(the effective range of a musket) from the column to prevent enemy harassment of

the main body. As soon as the column deployed into line, the skirmishers

withdrew through gaps and re-formed. (Wright 1983, 141)

These and other skills were taught by Baron von Steuben, disseminated

throughout the entire army in this manner, and further codified by the immediate

publishing of his manual of arms. The Regulations for the Order and Discipline of the

Troops of the United States, Part I, or “Blue Book” as it was commonly called, was given

to each officer to replace whatever he had been previously using. 26

When Steuben

submitted his manual of arms for Congress’s approval they only had one change; instead

of “Present” an officer would say “Take sight”, articulating the American privileged

technique of marksmanship. It was only a symbolic edit, however, as the rest of the text

was widely approved legislatively and logistically. Historian John M. Palmer wrote,

26

The “Blue Book” went through 70 editions in its lifetime, and was the official manual

of the United States up until the Civil War. It was groundbreaking in the field of Western

military theory because it discussed the role of “love”, arguing that it was through an

officer’s diligence that he gained the loyalty of his troops, not formality or informality,

thus redefining the role of the officer.

64

In this book, Steuben gleaned from the military lore of the ages the prime

essentials of military wisdom and adapted them with marvelous tact and exactness

to the needs of the young American Army. Insofar as the Continental Army

influenced our national history, this book must be regarded as one of the most

influential books ever published in America. Nor war its influence solely military.

In knitting thirteen discordant state contingents into a homogeneous nation army,

it gave the first effective model of future political union. . . . .According to North,

“except the Bible it was held in the highest estimation. (Palmer 1937, 203-204)

In historical discussions about the Continental Army there is some debate

concerning to what degree it was a professional army or a glorified militia, and the

question arises if the issue should be judged by European or American military standards

of the time. This is a difficult question because it was during the Revolution and in the

making of the Continental Army that American standards began to solidify. The

language that identified the men was inconsistent. Were they “professional soldiers”, or

“citizen-soldiers” or “freeman”, and how should that influence their relationship with

their superior officers and discipline? Exemplifying classically liminal traits, as defined

by Turner, the status of these men was yet unknown. While their status was discussed in

Congress in terms of the army’s organization, the resolution was physically manifested

immediately in the drill training. An examination of drill training within its historical

context indicates that a compromise was achieved, somatically if not intellectually. The

training was stripped to its essentials and yet sufficiently rigorous to result in a

professional level of presentation. Klemme summarizes the profound effect of this

symbolic kinesthetic compromise: “The Continental learned professional techniques, but

did not develop the mentality of the lifestyle of professional soldiers. The Continentals

retained the attitude of militiamen throughout the war, and won the war without

abandoning the principle military tenet of the revolution” (Klemme 1997, 3-4).

Though it was the actual process of drilling, the act of moving together in

prescribed formation, and performance of spectacle that first resolved controversy about

the army’s identity, the movement itself has been all but forgotten in the tales of the

violent birth of a new nation. Every American history book attests to the profound

influence of military drill in the course of the war, but because these essentially

ephemeral experiences are so insufficiently explained through language, it has been

easier to reference this symbolic process through the identity of the man who taught the

65

movement. Though something is lost in the symbolic shift from a kinetic process to a

man, the symbol is not completely without reason. As will be discussed in the next

chapter, Steuben showed genius in designing and teaching the drill maneuvers for the

Continental Army. He was responsible for unifying drill and thus, identity among the

Continental soldiers. His mark on history is made not just as a man, but as a symbol of

the politically potent synchronized movements that he invoked.

George Washington recognized the far-reaching effect that Steuben’s training had

had on his army and credited the success of the war to his technique. Washington’s last

act before he resigned his commission as commander in chief was to write to Von

Steuben appreciatively, and symbolically, for all he had given:

Altho’ I have taken frequent Opportunities both in public and private, of

Acknowledging your great Zeal Attention and Abilities in performing the duties

of your Office; yes, I wish, to make use, of this last Moment of my public Life, to

Signify in the strongest terms, my intire Approbation of our Conduct, and to

express my Sense of the Obligations the public is under to you for your faithful

and Meritorious Services. (Washington to Steuben, 23 Dec 1783)

66

THE THRESHOLD AND BEYOND—VALLEY FORGE

Social dance and military drill as they have been laid out in the previous chapters

generally served as redressive actions that functioned to maintain and create social status

and community identity in a time of categorical crises. The performance of grace and

precision in these movement forms represented far more than physical agility; it

characterized the identity of the performers in all aspects of life. Though we can analyze

the symbolic potential of collective movement in isolation, as has been done above, its

full implications may be better understood within the context of historical narrative. This

story frames the vital role these movement forms played in a state of crises, and how they

functioned within a larger social drama to solidify ambiguous categories and construct a

new American identity. The structure of this historical narrative parallels Victor Turner’s

model for a social drama, highlighting the categorical transition that took place during the

winter encampment at Valley Forge where the formation of the Continental Army’s

identity, and the beginning of American nationalism, were ritualized in the performances

of social dance and military drill.

Valley Forge holds an important place in American history as a symbol of

military endurance and personal sacrifice. While there was undoubtedly much suffering

at Valley Forge, contemporary, in-depth research asserts that suffering was not as severe

as formerly believed. The following winter at Morristown was even colder and soldiers

suffered with even fewer provisions. In fact, there is reason to believe that Valley Forge

was a hotbed of entertainment activities. What is forgotten is that the army did not leave

the valley until the eighteenth of July. Valley Forge took place over a winter and a

spring. But seventh-grade American History students have not heard of the colder

Morristown encampment; Valley Forge comes to mind when they imagine hardship

during the Revolutionary War -- not when they imagine soldiers with flowers in their hair

skipping around a maypole. Why is Valley Forge so important, and why does it maintain

its static station in history?

67

Transformation is the epic moral of the Valley Forge story. Images of emaciated

soldiers and frozen bare feet characterize the men that entered, existing in stark contrast

to the images of a unified, professional fighting force that marched out. This was where

Washington made his army and realized his vision of an army that was a unit moving in

synchrony. Valley Forge is commonly known to be the "turning point of the war"

because despite harsh conditions young soldiers came of age, tightened their ranks and

standardized military drills, thus forming an army that could go on to win the fight for

independence. Integrated into a discussion of the soldiers’ daily lives and leisure

practices, social dance and military drill will be considered as a site of socio-political

negotiation at a time of intense liminality.

Setting the scene: a fledgling army

The first shots of the American Revolution were fired on April 19, 1775. The two

famous skirmishes in Concord and Lexington were preceded by Paul Revere's famous

ride, warning the countryside: "The British are Coming!" Though the war had already

started in earnest the ‘founding fathers’ were not yet sure of their position and they were

definitely not organized for warfare. After a long period of legislative indecision the

Second Continental Congress, on June 14 1775, resolved to form its first national force to

support the conflict that so far was being handled by the New England troops.27

The next

day Congress appointed George Washington as its commander. Aside from bringing his

Southern identity to the national force, he brought more experience in leading large

forces than any other American. “Washington had been active in the military planning

committees of Congress and by late May had taken to wearing his old uniform. His

colleagues believed that his modesty and competence qualified him to adjust to the

27

They passed a resolution to raise ten companies of expert riflemen from throughout the

colonies. The fact that they elected first to assemble riflemen shows their privileging of

American marksmanship. Also, “the inclusion of troops from outside New England gave

a continental flavor to the army at Boston. A desire to broaden the base of support for the

war also led John Adams to work for the appointment of a southerner as the commander

of "all the continental forces, raised, or to be raised, for the defense of American liberty"

(Wright 1983, 25- 26).

68

"Temper & Genius" of the New England troops. Washington was given the rank of

General and Commander in Chief” (Wright 1983, 25-26).

The terms of enlistments for the new soldiers were set for only one year. It took

Washington until the end of 1775 to establish some degree of national control over the

military that had been assembled in the northeast. While this was fairly quick considering

the size of his task, the organization was only administrative; tactics still differed widely,

and in December all enlistments’ terms expired anyway. Though it was difficult to lose

men so recently assembled, being able to reenlist them under a “unified” army, facilitated

the transition into a new organizational system. On Jan 1st, he wrote in his general

orders:

This day giving commencement to the new army, which, in every point of View is

entirely Continental, . . . His Excellency hopes that the Importance of the great

Cause we are engaged in, will be deeply impressed upon every Man's mind, and

wishes it to be considered, that an Army without Order, Regularity and

Discipline, is no better than a Commission'd Mob. (Washington, General Orders,

1 Jan 1776)

However, re-enlistments were far less than anticipated, and after two months of

recruiting, numbers were still short. On January 4th

, Washington complained to Congress

about this unfortunate situation.

It is not in the pages of History perhaps to furnish a case like ours. To maintain a

post within musket shot of the Enemy...and at the same time disband one Army

and recruit another within that distance of twenty odd British regiments, is more

than probably ever was attempted: But if we succeed as well in the latter, as we

have hitherto in the former, I shall think it the most fortunate event of my whole

life. (Washington to the President of Congress, 4 Jan 1776)

By March, the numbers had increased but were not up to expectations. That Washington

found the process grueling, he made clear, and he continued to fight Congress for longer

enlistments.

To go into an enumeration of all the Evils we have experienced in this late great

change of the Army...would greatly exceed the bounds of a letter....I shall with all

due deference, take the freedom to give it as my opinion, that if the Congress have

any reason to believe, there will be occasion for Troops another year. . . they

would save money, and have infinitely better Troops if they were [to enlist men]

for and during the war.... The trouble and perplexity of disbanding one Army and

raising another at the same Instant, and in such a critical situation as the last was,

69

is. . . such as no man, who has experienced it once, will ever undergo again.

(Washington to the President of Congress, 9 Feb 1776)

During this transition Washington called on local militia to fill ranks, although he knew

that he could not count on them for a longer term. In light of this shortage ranks were

opened to African Americans. In 1775 military organization ebxtended to the south; by

July 4, 1776 each colony had dedicated and organized regiments under the leadership of

Congress. At this point Washington began to convince the populace that a permanent

military force would be necessary, and in September Congress allowed enlistments for

three years or the duration of the war. The following spring of 1777, when a new army

was assembled for the second time, Congress offered a bounty and promise of land to

entice long-term enlistments. While some men re-enlisted, many were new recruits and

these fresh soldiers fought the battles of 1777 with little training.

The war was going on its third year. The winter of 1778-79 was the first true

winter encampment, and consequently, it became the symbolic threshold into a unified

army. Conveniently placed between the British winter camp in Philadelphia and the

Continental Congress in York, Pennsylvania, Valley Forge was the chosen site to rest out

the winter. Contrary to popular belief, the site was not completely remote from society;

Valley Forge supported a small agricultural village. Approximately 10,000 men marched

in on December 17, leaving those historically-venerated footprints of blood in the snow.

The General Quartermaster in charge of distribution of supplies had just resigned in late

November, leaving supply lines erratic, though not much more erratic than before. The

effects, however, would be felt more severely during the harsh winter ahead.

Most of the hardships suffered had to do with difficulties of day-to-day life. With

no tradition of a standing army, routines had not been established for winter quarter

procedures. During the Valley Forge winter, through trial and error, men discovered how

to build living quarters that could hold heat and to optimize their clothing and bedding to

protect those who needed it most. By the next winter, these day-to-day habits or in

military terms, SOPs -- standard operating procedures -- would be established, but it

would take a while for them to become efficient.

The situation was precarious, and it became ever more so as the dark winter set in

and receipt of supplies was irregular at best. Washington knew that the situation would

70

get worse before it got better. The first of three supply crises hit camp on December 26

and lasted until January 6. Two factors brought supply lines to a confused halt: the

army's relocation from Whitemarch to Valley Forge, and the recent resigning of the

general Quarter Master who was in charge of supplying the army. A large army could

deplete all the resources of a given area in a week’s time. Therefore a marching army,

though harder on soldiers' feet, was infinitely more easily fed than a sitting army. It is

interesting to note that supply crises, though not created intentionally, created a situation

that many rituals of transition create artificially such as fasting and suffering.

In the first two months at Valley Forge the ranks were filled with frustration and

ill-temper. "The camp was recognized as a good place to avoid, and many key staff

officers made themselves as scarce as possible" (Bodle 2002, 130). By mid-December the

cunning commander-in-chief, anticipating coming shortages, wrote the Continental

Congress about his ragged army at the edges of mutiny for lack of supplies. The famous

"starve, dissolve or disperse" letters drew a horrible picture of naked troops on the verge

of mutiny. He confronted the Continental Congress as the ultimate enemy of patriotism

because of their inability to adequately supply troops with the essentials of survival. At

this most critical moment of symbolic crises, the soldiers declared their undetermined

status. Totally liminal, almost negated as a category, they called out their protest: “No

food, no soldier.” That the actual situation was as bad as Washington led Congress to

believe is highly contested by contemporary Valley Forge scholars. One could say that

Washington was prone to exaggeration, or, that he was a gifted politician. Bodle,

foremost researcher on Valley Forge writes,

Washington's celebrated “starve, dissolve, or disperse” letters shocked Congress

into recognizing this reality, and giving it the maintenance needed to operate

reliably. Soldiers would not have willingly “starved,” and there is no evidence

that the army came close to “dissolving.” “Dispersal” was contemplated, and

would have involved quartering troops in interior Pennsylvania population

centers. (Bodle 2002, 1)

Though dispersing the troops to urban centers would have solved the

problems of food and shelter during the harsh winter, Washington thought it was very

important that troops be concentrated with little distraction. His opinion that the army

should be kept together geographically shows his own understanding of the importance

71

of collective identity to military efficiency. Furthermore, his attitude seemed to be that

soldiers, given the opportunity, were inclined to excessive drinking, whoring and

eventual desertion. In fact, desertion and sickness were the greatest threats to

Washington's army. Though historical accounts vary, Washington marched in to Valley

Forge with about ten thousand men, but by February he had only eight thousand. An

average of six to eight men deserted every day during the harshest months.28

Soldiers

unsure of their status were therefore uncertain of their loyalties and prone to desertion.

Washington’s greatest complaint was that he believed that women enticed already

weakened soldiers to desertion. During the harsh Valley Forge winter Washington was

suspicious of visiting townswomen. On February 4, 1777 he wrote:

The most pernicious consequences having arisen from suffering persons, women

in particular, to pass and repass from Philadelphia to camp under Pretence of

coming out to visit their Friends in the Army and returning with necessities to

their families, but really with an intent to entice soldiers to desert; All Officers are

desired to exert their utmost endeavors to prevent such interviews in future by

forbidding the soldiers under the severest penalties for having any communication

with such persons and by ordering them when found to be in camp to be

immediately turned out of it. (Washington, General Orders, 4 Aug 1777)

Though Washington felt a great ambivalence towards the campfollowing women, he and

other officers went to great lengths to welcome their spouses at the winter

encampments.29

As soon as suitable quarters could be found, usually a nearby house or

one newly constructed, an officer would send for his wife. And, with the presence of

military wives, the civilized domesticity and social scene was set in motion. The wheels

of society continued to turn during the war even in the bleakness of the Valley Forge

winter.

Washington certainly did not suffer the same hardships as his men. The General

28

Though officers could request winter leave and/or invite their families to live at camp,

regular soldiers were required to stay at camp, not receiving visitors. Also, officers were

allowed to resign at their convenience, but the regular soldier risked court martial or

death if he attempted to leave before his term expired. For many men, especially those

who joined under the premise of a three-year term, desertion was the only option.29

Whatever his distaste for low-class and local women, Washington was a man of

convenience, and by May he was trying to recruit more women to support his army,

especially in the capacity of nurses.

72

and Martha Washington resided in the two-story, stone house of Isaac Potts. Supply

crises did not drastically affect his dining habits except that during shortages he often

invited his staff to dine with him, enjoying claret wine and other fine foods that his

officers generally couldn't afford. When things got crowded, he had a separate cabin built

onto the house to make the accommodations more hospitable, which was quite a luxury

in the midst of so much suffering.

Martha Washington moved in with the general in February and, as was the

tradition, most officers invited their wives to winter with them in camp. These women

were highly regarded in contrast to the campfollowers who boarded nearby.

Martha took it upon herself to care for the young wives of other officers, which

meant seeing to it that they found proper entertainment. At such entertainments the

"ladies sang lustily and played whatever musical instrument was at hand"(Wright 1983,

204-205). Thanks to two military bands that were stationed at Valley Forge that winter

these instruments would have been more than the fife and drum. Each night they

received at least fourteen guests for dinner, and often many more. One guest recalls,

We dined twice or thrice a week with General Washington. We visited him all so

in the evening, when Mrs. Washington was at headquarters. We were in a manner

domesticated in the family. . . . We who lived in good quarters did not feel the

misery of the times so much as the common soldier and the subaltern officers, yet

we had more than once to share our rations with the sentry at our door. We put the

best face we could upon the matter. (quoted in Doyle 1970, 86)

The senior officers appreciated their privileged position, and while they did not think it

arrogant, they did take certain measures to curtail the extent of their festivities in the

worst of the winter. “In the midst of all our distress there were some bright sides of the

picture, which Valley Forge exhibited at that time.” The women, he continued,

. . .often met at each other’s quarters, and sometimes at general Washington’s,

where the evening was spent over a cup of tea or coffee. There were no levees or

formal soirees, no dancing and playing or amusements of any kind, except

singing. Every gentleman or lady who could sing, was called upon in turn for a

song. (my emphasis--quoted in Doyle 1970, 87)

Since the officers had opportunity to partake of their favorite form of entertainment, we

can only assume that the sacrifice of dancing was a symbolic fast by the officers done in

respect for the suffering of the enlisted men. During the entire course of the war, these

73

few months, February to May, seem to be the only hiatus from social dancing. The

enlisted men, however, do not seem to have taken such a vow. Though their suffering

certainly curtailed celebrations, song and dance probably warmed the cabins and spirits

of many enlisted soldiers. Historian John Trussell makes the interesting observation that

Washington often distanced himself from the impromptu celebrations of the enlisted men.

While this trait has often been attributed to his general aloofness, Trussell shows that, in

fact, Washington quickly made himself present when needed, and he also quickly made

himself absent when “he wanted to avoid the possibility of becoming part of a situation

which might escalate beyond a level of insubordination which he could not officially

ignore,” (Trussell 1976, 81). One such event occurred on February 22, when a group of

drummers and fifers came to serenade the dinner party assembled for Washington’s forty-

fourth birthday. Officially, they were not supposed to play their instruments outside of

posted hours, therefore Martha Washington went outside to convey his thanks and tipped

them well. While Washington and the senior officers turned a blind eye to the enlisted

men’s fun, they ritually circumscribed their own -- at least for a short time.

Certainly, the daily life of enlisted men would not have been nearly as tolerable as

George Washington's, yet, there were moments of gaiety that added variety and relief to a

generally difficult time. Most of the information regarding soldiers’ forms of

entertainment comes via inference. We know that there were musicians and wind and

string instruments enough to entertain the officers. It is hard to believe those were not

used in the soldiers’ huts too. Also, drummers and fifers, of whom there were many,

seemed to have a constant role in enlisted men's social events as evidenced by the

repeated insistence by officers that those instruments were to be used only for official

purposes. Had the order been followed they probably would not have needed to repeat

themselves.

Disobedience, as a result of boredom, was rampant in the winter months and this

deeply perturbed Washington. However, not all forms of social activities were given to

malediction. In one diary a soldier claims to be ill, but not due to the spread of disease.

Rather, he attributes his illness to too much ice skating. Apparently there were up to 50

enlisted men a day, ice skating all day, on Brandywine creek (Bodle 2002, 132).

As spring approached there was much work to be done. This was probably met

74

with glee, considering that the most frequent complaint during the harsh winter months

was not of hunger or cold, but of boredom. Military drills became the most important

daily event in camp, providing exercise and physical activity that boosted morale. The

parade field actually functioned to reign in the disobedient army, to give them structure

and, most importantly, to give them community. The field training at Valley Forge is

always referred to in Revolutionary histories, but the value attributed to it differs. Most

Revolutionary War historians believe that field drilling alone revamped the tattered and

unorganized army, while those that specialize in Valley Forge argue that the army was

already quite strong and just needed some shared organizational principles, and that the

drilling best served the army by boosting morale. However, both schools of scholars

agree that Valley Forge was the turning point of the American Revolution. Yet despite

the fact that this might be the most important event in the American Revolution, or

American history, there is no in-depth evaluation of how this drilling process was

successful in transforming the army.

According to most histories, Baron von Steuben is given credit for turning the

dispirited and motley group into a "real" army. With the assistance of Benjamin Franklin

to falsify documents that exaggerated his military credentials, the Prussian officer of

Fedrick the Great volunteered himself to Washington’s service to instruct a standardized

drill manual. This task had earlier been given to Thomas Conway, who had also served in

the French army, but the men were uninspired, not liking the arrogant foreigner and

unwilling to learn from him. 30

When Baron Von Steuben made his appearance at Valley

Forge during the supply crises of mid-February, and spent his first days observing the

troops. Steuben reflected:

The arms at Valley Forge were in a horrible condition, covered with rust, half

of them without bayonets, many from which a single shot could not be fired. The

pouches were quite as bad as the arms. A great many of the men had tin boxes

instead of pouches, others had cow horns; and muskets, carbines, fowling pieces

and rifles were to be seen in the same company.

The description of the dress is most easily given. The men were literally

naked, some of them in the fullest extent of the word. The officers who had coats

30

This paragraph grossly generalizes the situation for the sake of brevity. Several detailed

books have been written about Congress’s role in the increased professionalism of the

army and other books detail Conway’s history or the political navigation that Steuben

and Washington maneuvered to get him into this position.

75

had them of every color and make. I saw officers at a grand parade at Valley

Forge mounting guard in a sort of dressing gown made of an old blanket, or

woolen bed cover. With regard to their military discipline I can safely say no

such thing existed. In the first place there was no regular formation. A so-called

first class regiment of three platoons, another of five, eight and nine, and the

Canadian regiment of twenty-one. The formation of the regiments was as varied

as their mode of drill, which only consisted of the manual exercise. Each colonel

had a system of his own, the one according to the English, the other according to

the Prussian or French style. There was only one thing in which they were

uniform, and that was the way of marching in the maneuvers and on the line of

march. They adopted the mode of marching in files used by the Indians. (quoted

in Doyle, 120)

Steuben would address all these issues in his training. He understood the task would be

much more difficult than simply teaching the men how to walk in time and follow

commands, and understood he would have to use the drill to instill discipline, order,

confidence and inspiration in the ranks. It was a tall order, but the Baron knew that his

craft was tailored just for such tasks. Washington's vision for his army, and the matter of

disciplining and reforming the army was handed over to Steuben by mid-March.

The first few days of training were rocky. Washington had given his own corps

de guards, referred to as the Life Guards, to Steuben as a trial group that could later

disseminate the new system throughout the ranks. The Continentals were proud veterans

and were not pleased to be reminded of their shortcomings by a self-important European.

They had already had a negative experience with the previous Inspector General Thomas

Conway and "they had no use for another general . . . who seemed to begin every

sentence with, 'Well, in Europe, we always. . . ’ " (Danckert 1994, 29). Taking on

another liminal quality, the officers were symbolically unranked as they learned beside

Washington's Life Guards. They were already displeased that the education of their men

was given over to a foreign civilian and to make matters worse, Steuben did not speak

English.

The first day was a disaster. The night before, von Steuben had asked his aides to

translate his French commands into English, so the Life-Guards would not

become confused. Unfortunately, no such provision was made for the baron. Von

Steuben had trouble memorizing the English commands and quickly became

frustrated. The drill disintegrated into chaos. Furious with his own inability to

get the formation to do what he wanted it to do, von Steuben burst into a tirade of

obscenities in German and French. He might have continued this all day long, but

a young captain from the New York line stepped forward and addressed the baron

76

in fluent French. (Danckert 1994, 30)

His teaching method, he admitted, was ordered completely backward. He first

taught large-scale movements with more than five thousand men before he taught small-

unit maneuvers.

Battlefield experience had taught men the necessity of mastering large-scale

maneuvers, such as forming a line of battle from a marching column and forming

a marching column from a line of battle. By comparing their new instruction with

their previous disorder, soldiers could see by experience why they needed to learn

all stages of field exercise, from the manual of arms up to movement of divisions.

(Royster 1979, 218)

Before long Steuben became respected personally and professionally. Soldiers

found him to be different than they had anticipated. Steuben found no value in aloofness

as did the other officers, he avoided giving insensitive orders and frequently enjoyed

camp camaraderie. Moreover, despite his age and status, he demonstrated everything

himself and was the first person on the parade field each morning. Perceiving that these

troops and their officers were resistant to such training, Steuben organized his lessons to

teach them, but first to win them over. Steuben later explained his changed approach with

Americans, “The genius of this nation is not in the least to be compared with that to the

Prussians, Austrians, or French. You say to your solider, ‘Do this’ and he doeth it’ but I

am obliged to say ‘This is the reason why you ought to do that,’ and then he does it”

(quoted in Danckert, 219).

Steuben’s task was complicated by the army officers’ constant obsession with

their status. If the enlisted men had a chip on their shoulder about being “freemen”, it

was nothing compared to the junior officers’ obsession with achieving a higher level of

social gentility. As an outsider to the army and to the society, Steuben recognized in his

first observations an appalling social division in the army.

There was another evil still more subversive of order in an army: the captains and

colonels did not consider their companies and regiments as corps confided to

them by the United States for the care of the men as well as the preservation of

order and discipline. The greater part of the captains had no role in the companies,

and had no idea how many men they had under their orders. When I asked a

colonel the strength of his regiment, the usual reply was, “something between two

and three hundred men.” . . . . The officers were not accustomed to remain with

the troops when the army was in camp they lived in houses, often several miles

distant. In winter quarters they nearly always went home, and there were often

77

not more than four officers with a regiment. In the campaign of 1779 I found a

Massachusetts regiment commanded by a lieutenant. The idea they had of their

duty was, that the officers had only to mount guard and put themselves at the head

of their regiment or company when they were going into action. (quoted in Doyle,

120-121)

The distance displayed by these officers was clearly their over-emphasis on class

distinction based on the insecurity of new world upper-class men who, lacking the clear

distinction of nobility, felt the need to display superiority to an extent their European

predecessors did not. When many junior officers thought themselves too self-important

to drill their men, it was astonishing to see Baron Von Steuben, with the great distinction

of his position of Lieutenant General in the army of Fredrick the Great, dismount his

horse and give individual soldiers corrections. Setting himself as an example, he

advocated respect for inferiors on the parade field, and also in the social sphere. Pierre-

Etienne Duponceau remembers such atypical democratizing events hosted by Steuben,

Once, with the Baron’s permission, his aides invited a number of young officers

to dine at our quarters, on condition that none should be admitted that had on a

whole pair of breeches. This was, of course, as pars pro toto; but the torn clothes

were an indispensable requisite of admission, and in this guests were very sure not

to fail. The dinner took place. The guests clubbed their rations, and we feasted

sumptuously on tough beefsteak and potatoes, with hickorynuts for our desert.

Instead of wine we had some kind of spirits, with which we made “salamanders”,

that is to say, after filling our glasses, we set the liquor on fire, and drank it up

flames and all. Such a set of ragged, and, at the same time, merry fellows, were

never brought together. (quoted in Doyle 1970, 86)

Though socializing with inferiors was generally frowned upon, and even

prohibited according to military law, Steuben was never criticized for his actions.

Instead, he was generally commended. By virtue of his position, both as a superior and as

an outsider, he had the capacity to renegotiate the meaning of social status. These

redressive actions, both on the parade field and in his own quarters functions, were

characterized by a liminal leveling of status among the participants. This liminal

stripping of status began with himself. The comment that he “condescended” himself

appeared in many of the letters that told of his training method. John Laurens wrote to

his father, the President of Congress, soon after Steuben began training the first “trial”

regiment,

78

The Baron Steuben has commenced the function of inspector general . . The

Baron discovers the greatest zeal, and an activity which is hardly to be expected

of his years. The officers in general seem to entertain a high opinion of him, and

he sets them an excellent example in descending to the functions of a drill-

sergeant. (quoted in Palmer 1937, 150)

A few weeks later, Steuben’s lessons were being disseminated through the entire army

and he continued with his democratic approach. Starting each day the officers watched

him drill a small group, and then imitated his lesson and probably his manner of

presentation. By the end of each day the entire field was moving as one, demonstrating

the lesson on a large scale, instilling daily in the minds and bodies of all involved that the

personal engagement of the officers had important implications. On April 8, Colonel

Alexander Scammell wrote to General Sulivan:

Baron Steuben sets us a truly noble example. He has undertaken the discipline of

the army, and shows himself to be a perfect master of it, not only the grand

maneuvers, but in the most minute details. To see a gentleman, dignified with a

lieutenant general’s commission from the great Prussian monarch, condescend,

with a grace peculiar to himself, to take under his direction a squad of ten to

twelve men in the capacity of drill sergeant, commands the admiration of both

officers and men, and causes them to improve exceedingly fast under his

instructions. (quoted in Palmer 1937, 154-155)

As lessons began to take shape on the parade field, his progress was admired by

onlookers as well. The drills, and method of teaching, were found by one officer to be

more agreeable to the dictates of Reason and common sense than any mode I

have before seen. . . we are first taught to march without musick but the time of

march is given us. Slow time is a medium between what was in our service Slow

and Quicke Time, Quicke time about as Quicke as a Common Country Dance.

(quoted in Bodle 2002, 200)

In two months the majority of the army was finally unified through standardized

drill. Though centralization of power was still eyed with apprehension, Washington had

ordered officers to dispense with their previous systems of command and to only follow

Steuben’s as it was written out in his newly published manual of arms, Regulations for

the Order and Discpline of the Troops of the United States, or the “blue book” as it was

called. The most intensive phase of his training was finished. Steuben’s most profound

achievement, however, was not teaching field maneuvers but using the field maneuvers to

79

mitigate unsettled issues of social class within the army that had previously hindered its

effectiveness.

The importance of drill to the army went beyond field maneuvers, even beyond

the democratizing process. Military drill is made for battle, but it is also made to be seen.

Steuben insured that the army’s first audience was itself. In Steuben’s first few weeks he

taught only a small regiment. While he drilled a small group on the Grand Parade, others

were on a nearby hill observing; and as he assembled the entire regiment, the hill filled

with curious on-looking officers and soldiers. The training was a spectacle. Each day the

lesson got more complex and each day the crowd grew.

It is no coincidence that the drilling field closely paralleled the dancing class.

Steuben was the itinerant dancing master, and George Washington was the proud father

expecting to see his progeny "turned out". With Steuben presenting himself as an

example, other forms of discipline were upheld during these "rehearsals". Not only did

soldiers adopt appropriate stepping and parade figures, they also practiced appropriate

attire and composure. Attention was given to dress and tidiness as well as punctuality.

Washington ordered that all clocks in camp be set by the clock at headquarters so that

brigades arrived on time for practice. By mid-April order was established in camp,

tempers calmed, and spirits rose; numbers of enlisted men were on the rise, and there

were no soldiers under arrest for misbehavior.

Coming of Age -- The First week of May

It was spring and spirits were high. In the first of a series of celebrations

Washington had arranged an exchange of prisoners for one of his generals, Charles Lee.

As Lee returned to camp two miles of soldiers lined the road to great him. Elijah Fisher

described the scene: "Gen. Washington with all his attendance went to the Lines to Meet

Gen. Lee and to Accompany him to Head Quarters where they arrived at two of the

Clock in the Afternoon where they were received with a kind of salute of arms Drums

fifes and Band of Musick" . . . and, following he, "entertained with an elegant Diner, and

the Music Playing the whole time,"(quoted in Camus 1976, 36).

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A theatre was opened in Valley Forge and on April 15, George Ewing, an

American soldier, wrote in his diary about its well attended performance.

This afternoon I received a ticket for the Play to be acted this evening at the

Bakehouse in the evening went down in company with Major Bloomfield Lietus

Curtis Wayman & Kersey but the house was so full that I could get not in then a

number of Gent went to Major Parkers hut in the fourth where we spent the

evening very merrily.’ (Ewing 1928, 38)

Theater historian Jared A. Brown, astutely commented, “It is history’s loss that

Ewing’s account is as barren of detail as it is of punctuation” (Brown 1978, 13). Indeed,

Ewing’s nondescript mention of the theatrical event is the only historical record to

account for the production, but records from later productions are slightly more

informative.

In this time of merriment enlisted men would also enjoy themselves. On the

evening of April 30 maypoles were set up all over the encampment. George Ewing wrote:

I was awoke by three cheers in honor of King Tamany The day was spent in

mirth and Jollity the soldiers parading marching with fife and Drum and

Huzzahing as they passed the poles their hats adorned with white blossoms

The following was the procession of the 3d Regt on the aforesaid day first one

sergeant drest in an Indian habit representing King Tamany Second Thirteen

Sergeants drest in white each with a bow in his left hand and thirteen arrows in his

right Thirdly thirteen Drums and fifes Fourthly the privates in thirteen platoons

thirteen men each—The Non-Commissioned Officers and Soldiers being drawn

up in the afforesaid manner on the Regimental Parade gave 3 Cheers at their own

Pole and then Marchd of to Head Quarters to do Honor to his Excellency but just

as they were descending the hill to the house an Aid met them and informd them

that the Genl was indisposed and desird them to retire which they did with the

greatest decency and regularity—they then returnd and marchd from right to left

of Lord Stirlings Division Huzzahing at every Pole they pasd and then retird to

their Regimental parade taking a drink of whiskey which a Generous contribution

of their officers had procured for them they dismissed and each man retird to his

own hut without any accident happening throughout the whole day the whole

being carried on with the greatest regularity—in the evening the Officers of the

aforesaid Regt assembld and had a song and dance in honour of King Tamany

about 12 Oclock we dismissed and retired to rest. (Ewing 1928, 44-45)

On that same day Washington had received the first unofficial news of the French

Alliance, which perhaps explains his “indisposition”. Though he could not formally

announce the news until he received official communication from Congress, he could not

help but "mention the matter" to other officers. News spread quickly and Washington

81

observed "no event was ever received with a more heartfelt joy" (Washington to the

President of Congress, 1 May 1778). He requested permission from Congress to make an

official announcement and celebrate the news. "I will only say that the army are anxious

to manifest their joy upon the occasion" (Washington to the President of Congress, 1 May

1778).

On the fifth of May the formal announcement was made and celebrations were set

for the following morning. With one day’s notice, Washington planned a very detailed

ceremony to commemorate the treaty. The ritual celebrations of May sixth (1778) would

mark the passage of the Continental troops from the liminal stage, and their ambiguous

identity as individual patriots, into a collective identity with the structure to justify itself

as a verifiable army. The morning of the sixth should have begun with an execution, but

in an act of great ceremony and symbolism, two men who had been sentenced to death by

hanging for the crime of desertion were pardoned by Washington. This was the new

beginning for a new army. The parade ceremony followed, and was perfectly timed to

display the impressive results of six weeks of intense military drilling with Steuben. The

“new” army displayed itself in full pomp. After careful inspection of dress and arms,

every brigade filed onto the parade field in the center of camp in two long lines. They

presented a feu de joie, a firing of guns in token of joy. Musket fire crossed the field,

domino-ing down one line and then up the other. Following, cannons were fired in three

series of thirteen, accented with “huzzahs” in salute to the King of France, the friendly

European powers and the American States.

What Washington and the other observers saw made them proud, as he recorded

in his general orders the next day:

The Commander in Chief takes great Pleasure in acquainting the Army that its

Conduct yesterday afforded him the highest Satisfaction. The Exactness and order

with which all its Movements were formed, is a pleasing Evidence of the Progress

it has made in military Improvement, and of the Perfection to which it may arrive

by a Continuance of that laudable Zeal and Emulation which so happily prevails.

(Washington, General Orders, 7 May 1778)

The army was lauded for its performance by many others as well. John Laurens observed

that the ceremony was "executed to perfection" which he attributed to Steuben's

"unwearied attention, and to the visible progress which the troops have already made

82

under his discipline,"31

(John Laurens to Henry Laurens, 7 May 1778). One hyperbolic

observer called it the "greatest Day Ever yet Experienced in Our Independent World of

Liberty” (Phillip van Cortland to Pierre van Cortland, 7 May 1778).

It is in exactly this kind of symbolic display that the comparison between dance

and drill becomes most obvious. Witnessing the martial air of the troops in full ceremony

created a patriotic confidence that sent them full throttle into the campaign season. This

presentation was not designed for the enemy, but a local newspaper recorded an

interesting anecdote, that indicated, such audience was not uninvited:

During the review an officer was called to one side, in order to know what was to

be done with a spy who was making observations on the army. But the officer

coolly observed to the gentleman who gave the information, that he thought it best

to take no further notice of the spy, but suffer him to return to his employers, as

they must feel more pain from his accounts of the army, than grief of hearing of

his detection and death. (Pennsylvania Packet, 13 May 1778)

After the performance, George Ewing recounted that the soldiers went to their

quarters and made special note that "no accident happened this day after the Fue de Joy

was over" (Ewing 1928, 51). Though no account has yet been found, it seems certain that

the soldier’s festivities did not end early and probably included a great deal of liquor,

music and dancing. As for the officers, whose social events were always separate,

Washington invited them "to assemble under a booth that was prepad for the purpose and

partake of a cold Collation which was prepared for them where he did us the honour to

eat and drink with us where many patriotic Toasts were drank and then concluded with

harmless Mirth and jollity" (Ewing 1928, 51).

In the wake of high morale, Washington thought it good timing to carry out a

project he had been considering. On May 7 he announced a general order to establish an

official oath of allegiance to American independence, disavowing allegiance to Britain or

George III. Though there was some hesitancy in signing such a document,

(t)his oath gave the unsophisticated soldier a tangible purpose to which he could

attach his loyalty. Enlisted men could understand this commitment although

many did not stay true. It substituted for the King. The Continental represented

the primary military instrument of the cause. The Commander in Chief provided

more personal targets of loyalty. Washington’s stature in the eyes of his

contemporaries became legendary. He shared their hardships in so far as an

31

Steuben's commission as Major General was announced three days later.

83

eighteenth-century commander was expected -- and beyond. Moreover, he was

generous in praising the main army for its accomplishments. He thanked his men

for enduring the painful winter at Valley Forge. (Scudieri 1993, 164-165)

From this point, the situation of the Continental army continued always less

precarious and we begin to see more frequent formal entertainments by the officers. May

continued to be a time of festivities, even as troops prepared for the campaign. On May

11, the political tragedy Cato was performed for George Washington and his troops at

the Valley Forge encampment. Washington himself had arranged the performance,

despite Congress's resolution against theatrical works, as a way of boosting camp morale

on the verge of battle. Cato portrayed an army that had survived adversity, and in its

reflection celebrated the status of the Continentals. William Bradford, Jr., obviously

excited about the event, describes the performance and general disposition of the army to

his sister on May 14:

My dear Rachel

I find by a letter from my father that you are on a visit at Trenton. I

should be happy could you extend you Jaunt as far as full View—the Camp could

now afford you some entertainment. The manoeuvering of the Army is in itself a

sight that would Charm you.—Besides these, the Theatre is opened—Last

Monday Cato was performed before a very numerous & splendid audience. His

Excellency & Lady, Lord Striling, the Countess & Lady Kitty, & Mr Green were

part of the Assembly. The scenery was in Taste -- & the performance admirable –

Col. George did his part to admiration – he made an excellent die (as they say) –

Pray heaven, he don’t die in earnest – for yesterday he was seized with the

pleurisy & lies extremely ill – If the Enemy does not retire from Philada soon, our

Theatrical amusements will continue – the fair Penitent with the Padlock will

soon be acted. The “recruiting officer” is also on foot.

I hope however we shall be disappointed in all these by the more

agreeable Entertainment of taking possession of Philada . . .

Adieu ma chere soeur, je suis votre.

W.B. (Bradford 1916, 342-3)32

The plays Bradford mentioned were all musicals, and as was typical of dramatic

entertainments of the time, it probably included some simple group and solo dances. The

Recruiting Officer, if it had the opportunity to be performed, required a considerable

32

Six days later Bradford wrote again to his sister to rescind his invitation; the army

began to mobilize as the British evacuated Philadelphia.

84

musical effort; it began with a choreographed march, which must have been a reflective

moment for the soldiers.33

Meanwhile in Philadelphia at the British headquarters,

a gay and busy social season was climaxed in May by a Mischianza given as a

farewell to Howe who was returning to England. The participants in this grand

festival were dressed in medieval costume, and the elaborate affair included a

tournament complete with jousting and tilting. The procession commenced by the

water, three flatboats with a band of music in each at its head. God Save the King

and other pieces of martial music were played during the festivities. (Camus 1976,

69)

The Continental Army’s theatrical performances at the Bakehouse, presumably a

makeshift theater, probably served to uplift camp morale but they were also a form of

competition with the British, who had enjoyed an extravagant theater life during the

winter months. Washington proclaimed to his soldiers that Americans could compete

with the British on any turf, on the battle field and on the stage.

In mid June the entire army left Valley Forge. Along the way the battle of

Monmouth would be their chance to prove their military prowess with new tactical skills

against the English. These skills, though hallowed by many historians, did not give the

definitive victory they imagined. In fact, after Valley Forge, the Continental Army never

won an open field battle, and never had the tactical need to employ their new skills en

masse. It is true that in the battle of Monmouth a chaotic retreat was halted, turned and

soldiers calmly engaged in a volley with the British, thus displaying their collective

ability to follow orders. Victory however, was not secured because that evening the

British slipped off without finishing the battle, leaving Washington with nothing better

than a draw to brag about. Monmouth was the Continental Army’s best, and only,

demonstration of the army’s new skills. Thereafter they never got to use their field

maneuvers for more than parading or an occasional retreat.

This analysis demands the question: “Why then, is the army’s acquiring of

drilling skills so often referred to as the turning point of the war?” It was the turning

point of the war because the military drill gave the men, enlisted and officer, a shared

sense of professional pride. Wayne Bodle supports this perspective, arguing that

33

If it was not performed at this particular date as planned there are records of it being

performed in other Continental encampments later in the war.

85

Steuben's effect was grand, but effectiveness was demonstrated in the camp and parade

field and not in battle, as is commonly assumed. Battles did not change in structure nor

did fighting technique, as one would assume after all this training. The important

changes during Valley Forge were the rise in morale and the fact that Congress managed

to organize itself to deliver supplies to its army. But with such a practical explanation of

the Valley Forge “transformation”, why is it regarded with such historical reverence?

The answer to that question lies in the complex liminal experience of communitas created

by these ritual acts that have heretofore been unanalyzed by historians.

The fact is that, as mentioned before, the Continental army suffered worse

winters, but Valley Forge entered history in a powerful symbolic way because it was the

birthplace of a regular army. By wintering at Valley Forge they transformed themselves

as different from a seasonal militia force and became a professional army. The threat

posed by winter was not its cold winds, but the possibility that the army would disband as

it had done every winter before. Valley Forge was a dramatic moment of liminality in

American military history. Like the moment in a wedding when the official asks if

anyone objects to the union, Valley Forge was a precarious moment in forming a union.

And, as the earth thawed, standardized drilling served to create an environment of

communitas, de-ranking officers, placing them equally with enlisted men as students of a

new technique. After the standardization of military movement and music every soldier -

- black and white, Virginian and Pennsylvanian, federalists and centralist, rich and poor --

had a common language of the body.

This same new common language of the body was also articulated through social

dance practices. Though not confirmed with direct evidence from Valley Forge, it seems

likely through indirect sources that social dance would have been part of the myriad of

social activities that filled the endless days during the winter encampment. As diverse

soldiers took quarters together they undoubtedly shared stories from their different

regions, as well as their regional music and dance styles. Keeping in mind the almost

instant ability of dance to symbolically unify people, this sharing would have

immediately brought about a sense of communitas through collective movement. Such an

unprecedented situation, though indefinable in detail, must have been fundamental to the

shaping of the Continental Army’s identity from the perspective of the enlisted men.

86

As conditions stabilized, organized social dance practices among the officers

returned to exceed their pre-Valley Forge extravagance. When the socially active British

evacuated Philadelphia in late spring, the Continental Army moved in and, not to be

outdone, maintained the same level of festivities, even though it was now the height of

the campaign season. Only a month after the British evacuation of Philadelphia, socialite

Mrs. Robert Morris wrote to her mother:

I know of no news, unless to tell you that we are very gay as such. We have a great

many balls and entertainments, and soon the Assemblys will begin. Tell Mr. Hall

even our military gentlemen here are too liberal to make any distinctions between

Whig and Tory ladyes – if they make any, it’s in favor of the latter, such, strange as

it may seem, is the way things are conducted at present in this city. (quoted in Hart

1878, 162-163)

This analysis does not rewrite the events of the war -- but it does reframe the

history of ritual collective movement and its vital role in military life. In this reframing,

events surrounding Valley Forge entertainments and social activities, from elaborate

officers' balls to enlisted men’s maypoles and field parades, take on increased meaning in

defining the “lowest point in the War for Independence”. Bodle says that

Although it offers few compelling anecdotal materials for morality tales to inspire

school children, the army's experience at Valley Forge (including its drilling by

Steuben) schooled its members less for withstanding bayonet charges or

countering enemy flanking attacks than for the timeless imperatives of military

life embodied in the private's cyclical aphorism about his orders to "hurry up and

wait”. (Bodle 2002, 253)

But Bodle undercuts the power of this narrative. By including references to New

Year’s Eve parties, ice-skating, weddings, Mayday frolics, parades, balls, theater

productions, etc., this story does offer "compelling anecdotal materials for morality tales

to inspire school children". It is the birth of an army, which withstanding the harshness

of nature and organizational incompetence, found time for laughter, music and supportive

camaraderie that would prove essential in linking the individual to the group, and the

colonies into a nation. This was the first time in history that so many American soldiers

had so much leisure time, for "community building". Though previous historical

accounts of Valley Forge do not include close examination of the performing arts, I

wager that the winter encampment provided for them in such a way that actually led to

the true formation of the army as a community, thus making Valley Forge the actual

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“turning point of the war”.

88

CONCLUSION

There are thousands of books written about the American Revolution. Only about

a dozen of these actually address the lives of the Continental soldiers outside of their

military duty, and a scant handful give passing notice of social dance. The neglect of

dance and other elements of social history was standard, until fairly recently, in the

documenting of any war where military and political history loom large. To contrast,

every book on the Continental Army tells the story of Baron Von Stueben’s drill; they

generally sum up the meaning of that experience in one sentence about espirit de corps

and move on with no further analysis. This thesis, in contrast, focuses on the topic of

espirit de corps, analyzing its complexities that go beyond military discipline and

effectiveness. What is neglected by mainstream historical research of the soldier is the

unique human situation of the soldier. Removed from his normal day-to-day patterns, the

soldier travels, sees new places, and comes into contact with various people and

unfamiliar traditions. Furthermore, after the war is over he usually returns home with

unique experiences and shares his new knowledge with a wider audience. The amount of

cultural transmission and transformation that occurs during and after wartime is notably

under-researched.

Perhaps these topics have previously been only addressed in passing because they

are both complicated to dissect and remarkably simple to imagine. Espirit de corps,

communitas, or unity through drill or dance is something that most people can imagine

because they have experienced it. Also, most people can easily see how diverse people

could come together in war and leave changed by such exposure. These profoundly

meaningful ideas are not shocking because they have gone unchanged; the same

principles still mold out day to day lives, just as they did our colonial founders.34

34

Though contemporary social dances are redressive actions specific to our

contemporary social dramas, we can still see the use of the same mitigating ‘tools’ used

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Read as a social drama, the American Revolution was a dramatic social

reorganization. The colonists were not just seeking political sovereignty, they were

searching for their own identity in relationship to a wide spectrum of issues such as social

hierarchy, diversity, and political centralization. The same social crises within the army

were intensified by the immediate need for military efficiency, and thus resolution.

These issues were quickly played out in the dance and drill practices of the Continental

Army, which by virtue of their ephemeral capacity for categorical exploration and

spontaneous creation of communitas, made them the perfect tools to create a much

needed sense of stability and confidence.

Placing dance and drill performance in this context exposes the social importance

of collective movement to the creation and maintenance of social status and identity, not

only of the individual, but also of the group. These forms were not just modes of

diversion or technical preparation, but served a myriad of social functions for the

Continental Army. Though their contexts and ostensible functions are different, there

are obvious parallels between these two movement forms. Historically, the dance-drill

connection is not new; there is a long history of association between court social dance

and the military. It is no coincidence that these forms resemble each other in geometrical

structure and share a common heritage in civic pageantry.

The focus on the representation of the body offers a new lens through which to

examine Revolutionary War history, but it also offers a different epistemological base. It

privileges and prioritizes actions, not ideas. Geertz says that in ritual ideas become real.

They are literally embodied in dance and drill. Though collective movement is a tangible

manifestation of ideas (sometimes occurring before conscious consideration of those

ideas), it is ephemeral by definition. Thus ritual movement has unique qualities. The

choice of dance or performance as a way to present an idea is done with the knowledge

that such a craft is ephemeral. This ephemeral quality can be appropriate to ritual

performance in a number of cases, for different reasons. It can be a mode of

experimenting with new models before opinions are shared, a way of soliciting feedback

on a new idea, or a form of decisive protest, where more permanent forms would be

in colonial America in high school drill teams, marching bands, chorus lines, and ROTC

skills, or even in Olympics opening ceremonies.

90

repressed. In its dynamic process ritual movement can play with an idea and organize or

clarify a theoretical discourse. It is a theoretical discourse not in verbal terms, but in

kinetic terms.

Within the geometrical designs, performance techniques and mannerisms of

eighteenth-century social dance and military drill the members of the Continental army

ritually negotiated complex social issues that otherwise incapacitated their efficiency. As

such, the Revolutionary War can now be seen in refreshing new ways, making manifest

subtleties that have been heretofore overlooked. By using Turner’s theories of social

drama and ritual performance as a lens, a rather chaotic time period is clarified, and

dance and drill are given agency within their historical contexts. More specifically,

through this close investigation of the Continental Army, dance and collective movement

are examined as integral aspects of social and intellectual history, bringing dance

scholarship into broader dialogue with the humanities and offering insight unique to its

discipline. In effect, it seems clear that even during times of war, dance is not

expendable.

91

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BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH

Melissa Andrews got her undergraduate degree at New College of Florida with a

major in philosophy. In addition to an interest in the history of dance she is a dancer,

choreographer, videographer, and anthropologist and strives to blend these interests.