Note: This is a DRAFT seminar paper.
Kindly do not quote or reproduce without the permission of the author.
"Medium and Message in the
Historical Thought of White Tennesseans, 1770-1820."
Lynn A. Nelson
Middle Tennessee State University
The "Character" of William Blount
On March 26th, 1800, Tennessee's senior newspaper, the Knoxville Gazette, published an obituary of William Blount.(1) The author was almost certainly George Roulstone, the region's first printer and the longtime editor of the Gazette. Blount's role in the state's history certainly merited the full column Roulstone gave him. Blount had been a powerful politician in North Carolina during the 1780s, helping to negotiate the cession of the state's western lands to the United States, and smoothing the way for the State of Franklin's brief reintegration to the state. After making George Washington's acquaintance as a delegate to the Constitutional Convention in 1787, Blount secured a position as territorial governor of the newly-formed Southwest Territory in 1790. Blount tirelessly pushed Tennessee statehood, finally achieving that end in 1796 - upon which he was promptly elected to the U.S. Senate. Roulstone included all of these accomplishments in recounting Blount's career. Yet he also seemed to pass over (or gloss over) some of the more colorful (or disreputable) aspects of the statesman's career.
Blount had also distinguished himself over the years as one of the new nation's most indefatigable and conspiratorial speculators in western lands - Roulstone referred to his record on this score in North Carolina as having "[become] conspicuous for his talents and political information." During his time as territorial governor, Blount pursued any avenue that might advance his speculations, including playing a shadowy role in the infamous "Spanish Conspiracy." Blount schemed endlessly to grab more land from the reluctant tribes in the South. These activities won him the distrust of the Washington administration, which worried about the cost of the wars which Blount and his cronies helped foment. In the end, Washington himself said of Blount, "I hold [him] in the most sovereign contempt."(2) Roulstone described this troubled relationship as evidence that Blount had "acquitted himself in a manner ... extremely satisfactory to our late worthy president Washington." Roulstone briefly mentioned that Roulstone had held the Senate seat he had occupied in early 1797 until July of that same year. He omitted to mention that Blount had been caught in another shady scheme - this time conspiring with the British to invade Florida and seize more lands from the Indians. Blount was impeached by the Senate in absentia, having scuttled back to Tennessee to escape a possible treason charge.
William Blount's obituary was a crass and obvious exercise in re-writing history. It doubtless drew a few wry grins from Tennesseans familiar with Blount's escapades. But Roulstone's attempt to polish Blount's reputation is still instructive. Roulstone himself had brought his printing press to the Southwest Territory from North Carolina at Blount's invitation. As a protégée of William Blount, Roulstone became part of the powerful clique of speculators and attorneys the Governor assembled in Knoxville and Nashville during the early 1790s. Under the governor's leadership, this group had tied the region to a difficult relationship with the new federal republic, while still pursuing risky alternate alliances. With Blount dead and the state of Tennessee established, his backers had to defend their actions to the voters, particularly against challenges from heroes of local self-reliance like new governor John Sevier. Rather than justify their conduct in another medium, such as political polemic, legal argument, or the like, in this case the Blount faction chose historical narrative. Roulstone retold Blount's colorful but checkered career in a way that reconciled the contradictions and failures of his patron's policy. When Roulstone was done, Blount (and by extension his deputies) could be remembered as a selfless statesman who combined Revolutionary credentials, national patriotism, and energetic support for expanded white settlement in the Southwest. "Weep, Oh! Tennessee;" Roulstone concluded,"for on this occasion you have met with a heavy loss." It would take historians more than a century effectively to argue that Blount's story was more complex and less uplifting than the one Roulstone had told.(3)
George Roulstone's success in whitewashing his chief's career (and helping keep Blount's relatives and friends in power in Tennessee for much of the early nineteenth century) illustrates the importance of forceful storytelling to the historian's craft. Narrative is the dominant way that we today, and people at the turn of the 19th-century, think about the past. Organizing remembered events into a story is the most effective way of giving meaning to the past, and conveying lessons for the future. Like the authors of fictional narratives, historians hoping to tell vivid and affecting stories have to pay due attention to character, plot, and style. As such, one can analyze historical narratives like Roulstone's obituary of Blount in the same way literary scholars look at fictional narratives.(4) In both cases the authors use the materials at hand (whether real or imagined) to shape stories.
One of the quickest ways for historians to shape an effective story, though, is to shoehorn complex people and events into commonly accepted characterizations and plotlines. Human cultures develop an arsenal of archetypical narratives, with stock characters and plot skeletons that can be inserted into a multitude of specific stories.(5) When orphan Harry Potter goes to live with his aunt and uncle, readers are ready to accept that his cousin would be out to get him. We all know from the original Cinderella and countless retellings that step-siblings are jealous and spiteful.(6) For its part, historical writing is at its height when the author finds a meeting ground between solid fact and classic storytelling. Yet few things are so important to society as its understanding of the past. The temptation to pass over messy facts in order to tell a convincing story is a powerful one.
Roulstone clearly gave way to this temptation is his obituary of William Blount. In his story, Roulstone turns Blount into a stock character, a prominent one in the cultural consciousness of late-eighteenth century white Americans: the virtuous public servant. A man above vanity and greed, the virtuous public servant diligently followed a course of action that successfully united practical power and lofty principle to serve the interests of the people.(7) English authors and historians had been building the type for some time, from Malory's Arthur to Shakespeare's Henry V to Gibbon's Antonines. American historians would do the same with nearly all the founding fathers - elevating George Washington into the paragon of the type, of course. Washington himself could demonstrate the pervasiveness of the model by turning it against Blount himself. "It is to be regretted," he wrote when Blount was on the verge of being impeached by the Senate, "that among us, a man in high trust and a responsible station, should be found, so debased in his principles."(8) The virtuous public servant's example was to be emulated, his precedents were to be followed, and his achievements upheld by his successors and their constituents. Blount's career, though, demonstrated little of that successful unity of principle and authority, marred by contradictions between self-interest and the public good and between national and local responsibility. Yet Roulstone could gloss over these difficulties with a vivid, if somewhat ham-handed, retelling of Blount's story that accessed that powerful character type on behalf of his late patron.(9)
At its most vital and relevant, historical writing is an attempt to shape the future by controlling how people think about the past. Blount's obituary was not quite a bald-faced lie about factual matters (although the passage about the "confidence" of President Washington comes close), but rather an attempt, perhaps even somewhat honest, to convey what Roulstone and Blount's friends probably believed was a deeper truth that could convince and inspire the people who read it. White Tennesseans might not have been ready to accept the Macchiavellian Blount as the architect of statehood. But Roulstone correctly surmised that they would accept his machinations as serving a statesman-like vision. The entire incident should show, that to understand white Tennesseans during this period, we need to analyze the stories they heard and told about their past.
Narrative Media in Early Tennessee
Any study of the historical thought of white Tennesseans during this period,
though, runs up against an immediate obstacle. Far and away the most common
medium of historical narratives at the time - oral storytelling - barely survives in the
documentary record. American pioneers were prodigious storytellers, and slid easily
between fiction and history. An enormous quantity of historical narrative was
transmitted around home fires, tavern tables, and a host of other gathering places.
Remembering her early-nineteenth century childhood in Middle Tennessee, Mia Taylor
described the importance of the pioneer oral historians: "On long winter evenings, they
gathered around each other's hearths and fought their battles over again, and many
were the marvelous tales of peril and adventure and of hardship that we listened to
with greedy ears and glowing faces."(10)
Yet for the most part these stories were never
committed to paper. Those that were had to wait until the antiquarian craze of the
antebellum era to find a literary audience.(11) Yet the documentary sources that survive from the pre-1820 era are important in
their own right. White Tennesseans wrote down historical narratives in both private
and official correspondence throughout the period. After 1790, the region's rapidly
expanding newspaper business provided another venue where stories about the past
could be told. These printed sources often reflect the influence of the spoken stories
that surrounded them. They also were shaped by their different mediums, different
audiences, and different purposes. The documentary record provides enough evidence
to discuss how white Tennesseans used the narrative tools available to them to
understand and articulate their past. The half century after the first appearance of white settlers in Tennessee was
marked by three periods of development in historical thought and expression. In each
stage, the state's white population responded to their changing circumstances by
creating a bolder and more coherent story about their past, and developing new media
in which to communicate that story to themselves and others. Between 1770 and 1785,
white Tennesseans remained tied to older settlements, and tried to attach events in the
Holston settlements to the histories of the Virginia and North Carolina colonies.
Shortly after the Revolution, though, overmountain settlers were alienated from both
North Carolina and the United States by political events. They responded by casting
about for new narrative forms that would justify their presence in Tennessee. After
1800, Jeffersonian Republicanism offered Tennesseans and other frontier settlers a
chance to shape the emerging national story around their activities in the West. This
narrative reintegration of Tennessee and the nation culminated with the War of 1812.
White frontiersmen were crucial in forcing a war that gave them the opportunity to
properly close a collective autobiography they had been writing since the 1780s. Dependence (1770-1785) To a notable degree, the record of the first decade-and-a-half of white settlement
in Tennessee suffers from its dependence upon one source: the mass of letters and
related documents assembled by mid-nineteenth century antiquarian Lyman Draper.(12)
Draper, like most early frontier historians, was interested mainly in the roles leading
politicians and military men played in the Revolution in the west and assorted Indian
Wars. In pursuit of that interest, he collected the surviving correspondence of men like
Joseph Martin, Evan Shelby, John Sevier, and William Blount as it related to issues of
frontier defense. The handful of surviving travel narratives came from men like Loyal
Land Company agent Thomas Walker, as well as other scouts, traders, Indian agents(13) -
men working the frontier in a semi- or fully official capacity. These men offered little in
the way of their own reflections on the historical roots and meaning of Tennessee
settlement. Nor did they reveal much about the thoughts of ordinary settlers. Yet the limitations of these collections reveal as much about the nature of the
Holston country settlements in these years as they do about Lyman Draper. The first
handful of families who built cabins and blockhouses in the area remained completely
dependent, both economically and psychologically, on the settled society to the east.
Travel accounts revealed that people who saw the need to write down what they saw in
Tennessee in the second half of the eighteenth century saw themselves as sojourners in
an outlying area, rather than permanent residents of a distinct region. The men whose
papers Draper collected were the unquestioned (if sometimes squabbling) leaders of the
overmountain settlements. Settlers looked to them for military, and by extension,
political and economic leadership. Yet people like Martin, Arthur Campbell, William
Cocke, and the rest, owed their positions less to their identification with the territory
and the support of its white residents than to their ties with the colonial governments in
the east. Contacts with people in Williamsburg and New Bern, and appointments and
influence derived from those contacts, were their claims to authority. One of Draper's most important correspondents was Joseph Martin, probably the
most influential man on the Tennessee frontier between 1770 and 1785. While Martin
was a long-term resident of what became east Tennessee, though, he appears to have
always seen himself as a Virginian. His early authority along the Holston derived from
the connection he had with Virginia Governor Patrick Henry, who appointed him to
official positions as a militia officer, treaty commissioner, and surveyor. Although he
later took appointments from North Carolina as well, Martin never moved his family to
the area, and returned to a farm in Henry County, Virginia, to retire. Given the sort of
role he played, most of Martin's surviving correspondence takes the form of intelligence
delivered to him by subordinates, and reports he sent up the chain of command. In
geographic terms, this flow of information moved inexorably east, and this sense of
political direction was reflected in its content. Certainly backwoods functionaries wrote down little that would indicate a
historical consciousness concerning the region. Nothing in their accounts of militia
commissions, pay and supplies, treaty negotiations, and surveys displayed a perception
of the area as having a separate identity from Virginia during the Revolution, and
North Carolina after the boundary settlement. Some of their letters do tell types of
stories that would be picked up in later, more developed Tennessee narratives, such as
Indian fights and lists of whites killed by the Cherokee. Yet these stories appeared only
to reinforce the identity of the new settlements as part of the older colonies, and the
identity of the authors as officers of those colonies. Reports of Indian battles were
presented in the context of local commanders defending their actions.(14) Narratives of
Indian atrocities appeared to support pleas for assistance from back east.(15) Even the
detailed catalogs of dangers and casualties provided subtle reminders that the Holston
settlers saw themselves as errants of the larger colonies. In 1774, Watauga settler
Abraham Penn advised that after a series of Cherokee raids, two prominent settlers,
"Gatliff and Clay," were in a dangerous and exposed spot on the frontier, and "had
better move their families back again,"(16) i.e., to southwestern Virginia. Colonel
Anthony Bledsoe reported on his attempts to care for a wounded man: "I much lament
poor Bunch, and should have sent the Doctor but the water prevented till there was a
particular call for him ... and I shipped him downriver,"(17) i.e., down the Holston from
relative safety in Fincastle into the war zone. Under these circumstances, white "Tennesseans" probably gave little thought to
the history of their region. If they needed to attach meaning to their experiences, they
had only to draw on the histories of their respective colonies. The only difficulty they
faced was convincing suspicious leaders back east that their errantry was bold, rather
than unruly. Virginia land speculator William Johnston revealed something of that
suspicion when he wrote Martin blaming settlers for Cherokee raids on outlying
settlements: "we can by no means think of suffering people to settle on our lands in
such a manner as to involve any dispute with the Indians." Johnston also weighed in
on Martin's responsibility to eastern authority, saying, "we are induced to believe that
such settlements have been made without your approbation, as you were desired not to
allow any."(18) James Thompson doubtless had men like Johnston in mind when he told
Martin that the Virginia government had "been long deluded by designing men." Yet
his solution was to "make a journey for Williamsburg ... in order to represent the
Distress't Situation of our frontiers to the Governor and Council in the fullest
Manner."(19) Only the repeated failure of petitions such as Thompson's would begin to
prompt white Tennesseans to begin considering a history for themselves separate from
Virginia, North Carolina, and other sources of authority and legitimacy. Confusion and Self-Reliance (1785-1805) The 1785 Treaty of Hopewell between the new government of the United States
and the leaders of the Cherokee nation began a new period in historical thought in
Tennessee. Up to that point, overmountain settlers had seen themselves as outliers of
the eastern settlements, a vulnerable backcountry. During the 1770s, they had been
almost completely dependent upon Virginia and North Carolina for both legal
authority and military protection. When the Revolutionary War came to the South in
1779, however, the governments of those colonies were pre-occupied with events in the
east. Thrown onto their own resources, the Watauga and Holston settlements had to
carry on the Revolutionary struggle at King's Mountain, and to fight and make treaties
with the Cherokee on their own account. Westerners emerged from the crisis of those
years pleased with the progress they had made in gaining and securing territory, but
uncertain of their relationship to the central authority they had formerly relied on. The Hopewell Treaty cemented the unease of the overmountain pioneers with
their place in the world. Hopewell was a bold claim to authority over Indian relations
in the South by the government of the United States. Yet at the same time the treaty's
territorial concessions to the Cherokee seemed to be the actions of a nation that was
weak and ineffective, and perhaps did not even share the expansionist goals of its
western settlers. Tennesseans had placed a great deal of hope in the new national state,
particularly after the confusion created by the "Land Grab" Act and short-lived cession
of North Carolina's western lands between 1783 and 1785. The government of the
United States seemed to clarify jurisdiction and purpose, but was now unable and/or
unwilling to provide the overmountain settlers with the support they sought. This
disappointment led to more than two decades of friction between white Tennesseans
and eastern authority. To underpin this conflict, frontier settlers began thinking seriously about their
past and their future, assembling stories that told of a destiny independent from the
east coast. The period between 1785 and 1805 was marked by the uneasy and
incomplete construction of a localist narrative of Tennessee's history. The first sign of the
emergence of this new perspective on the recent past came in a bold, romanticized
retelling of the incidents of the frontier wars of the Revolution. Tennesseans began
creating a military history of the period that emphasized their separate identity and
agency. Analogies to Leonidas's Spartans at Thermopylae popped up from time to
time,(20) Far from abject dependence upon eastern military strength and authority, white
Tennesseans recalled the late 1770s as a period in which they had successfully defended
their homes despite being abandoned by the east. In 1792, as war with the Cherokee
loomed once again, one writer recalled the order delivered by the Virginia government
in 1777 for settlers to retire behind the Donelson Line or be adjudged outlaws: "The result of this precipitate retreat was this: -- that the few who were determined to
oppose the enemy in defence of that quarter ... were thus compelled to fortify ... much
weaker ground than that they had evacuated: cut off from assistance and resources, by
mountains and defiles, which were at that day almost impenetrable, and from every
possibility of information, save through their own vigilance ... thus these ... posts, under
every additional disadvantage of the British war, and weak as new settlements could be,
had to stand the brunt with an enemy's whole numbers, prowess, resources, and
European patronage ... Yet the country was well defended!"(21) Nor was the resentment and breast-beating on the part of post-Revolutionary
Tennesseans confined to distancing themselves from their former colonial governments.
The locus of their ire over frontier defense was transferred to the federal government
after Hopewell, particularly with an unsympathetic Federalist executive in office.
Tennessee leader William Cocke wrote in the Knoxville Register opposing the
Washington administration's policy of offering gifts and annuities to Cherokee leaders: "I shall not pretend to say that the citizens of Philadelphia have no regard for the
inhabitants west of the Appalachian mountains, but I know that things at a distance are
often viewed as indifferent, & must think that it wou'd be difficult to make a citizen of the
western country believe that if Philadelphia was attacked by an enemy that was known to
be as faithless and the Cherokee Indians, that the inhabitants of that city wou'd think it
any great protection to them to give such an enemy guns, cloaths, and ammunition."(22) Cocke also hammered home his case by elevating the superiority of the historical
understanding of Tennesseans above the wisdom of higher-ranking statesmen in the
capital. "It has long been insisted upon, that the friendship of the Indians can be
purchased ... experience has taught us otherwise. I have resided on the frontiers for
twenty years past, and claim some knowledge of Indian affairs; and if permitted to
judge from experience, fear is the best and only assurance of the friendship of an
Indian."(23) Given their involvement, however minor, in the Revolutionary cause,
Tennesseans in these years engaged in some surprising sniping at the institutions of
their new national republic. On defense issues in particular, frontiersmen who just a
decade previously had begged for eastern troops now delighted in denigrating the
courage and competence of the national army. After U.S. general Arthur St. Clair's
disastrous defeat at the hands of Miami chief Little Turtle in 1791, stories began
circulating in the backcountry about the actions of Tennessee levy officer Jacob Tipton,
who had been killed on the field. "Capt. JACOB TIPTON," the Knoxville Register
reported later that year, "who went from Washington, in this Territory ... went instantly
with the party under his command, and joined a party of the Kentucky militia, who
were first engaged -- An officer asking him why he had joined himself to a party of
militia when he belonged to the regulars -- He replied, "I came here to fight, and I will do
so."(24) Having lashed out in every direction to give themselves a separate past from
nearly all of their neighbors and relations, white Tennesseans struggled to find a
distinct identity to justify their emerging isolationism. The localist narrative of their
recent past was built upon two major archetypes: a "Common Law" narrative that drew
on centuries of English resistance literature to portray a struggle between popular
rights and usurping government authority, and a "Right of Conquest" narrative that
justified settlement by recounting a blood price paid for western lands. Tennesseans
remained uncomfortable with both narratives, however, and never constructed a
coherent story about their past from them. Yet both narratives underpinned settlers'
actions during this period and fed into the Tennessee history their children would write
during the early nineteenth century. When speaking in the political realm, in newspapers, official documents and
correspondence, political speeches and literature, white Tennesseans needed to find
narrative structures to justify their claims and shape their future. They turned to a
popular narrative archetype, the "Common Law" narrative. This was a story skeleton
well-understood by politically active men in the Anglo-American world, particularly in
the wake of the Revolution. Built around the English notion of customary rights
(centered on the Common Law), these stories told of popular rights established in the
distant past, then gradually abrogated by corrupt, overweening power. Ancient
compacts were reached through noble responsibility on the side of power, and manly
assertion on the part of the people. They were then undermined by corrupt men among
the powerful, and by weakness and decadence among the people. These stories then
concluded with stirring jeremiads calling people to the defense of their legitimate
freedoms. This tradition was particularly strong among early English Whig historians,
the best-known example being Robert Molesworth's An Account of Denmark as It Was
in the Year 1692. Yet the narrative archetype attained such influence that even royalist
historians and philosophers like the Earl of Clarendon and Viscount Bolingbroke used it
to defend a virtuous monarchy against corrupt, scheming parliamentarians.(25) This
narrative was particularly important to American revolutionaries, who spent an
enormous amount of print tracing precedents of colonial self-government, and
referencing the Declaration of Rights, Magna Carta, Saxon Liberty, and a host of other
concepts.(26) Tennessee writers also tried to use argument from precedent, particularly in their
dealings with North Carolina. The confusion of the status of the Holston settlements
was matched by the bewildering switchbacks of North Carolina policy on Indian
treaties and the cession of western lands. Throughout these years, Tennesseans
struggled to assert that their legal institutions, land allotments, and Indian relations
could not be rescinded by a stroke of the North Carolina Governor's pen (or even the
whims of the national administration). The trained attorneys who trickled, and then
flooded into Tennessee in the years after the Revolution, were particularly adept at this
kind of storytelling. Moreover, as their professional credentials at least linked them
back to the eastern establishment, they used legal narratives to combat strict
isolationism. In response to a published scheme for regional self-defense during the last
round of Cherokee wars in the 1790s, one writer declared: "Congress (says the Cession
Bill) shall protect the inhabitants (to wit, of this territory) against enemies." This, I
humbly presume, means, that Congress shall furnish not only the protection but also
the means of protection. We want the assistance of Congress, and claim it as a matter of
right founded in the cession."(27) Yet stories that vindicated the Tennessee settlements on the basis of appeal to
precedent were always on shaky ground. As all settlers were aware, the trans-Appalachian settlements had always operated beyond the bounds of the law. From the
Watauga Compact through the Franklin movement and on to the Nickajack Campaign,
white Tennesseans had rarely waited for their rights to be established before exercising
them. A handful of strict separationists in their ranks loudly insisted that this approach
had been successful in the past, and should guide future actions. The man who recalled
the besieged blockhouses and stations of the 1770s as a satisfactory defense went on
about the wars of the early 1790s: "Is it the assistance of Congress, then, that we want to
protect us? No. We must in all events protect ourselves, and assist them into the
bargain! And so we can do; either with or without their reciprocity."(28) Tennesseans of more moderate outlook still struggled with the common law
narrative. As one claim to local autonomy after another fell in the face of federal power
and the reservations North Carolina put in the Cession Act, appeals to precedent grew
more abstract and desperate. In 1800, the North Carolina legislature tried to squeeze
money more efficiently from its Tennessee claims, passing legislation establishing a new
land office in Nashville to register and sell grants. In the face of this provocation
Tennesseans raged, but struggled to find effective arguments: accepting North
Carolina's Cession Act remained the price of guaranteeing claims made under North
Carolina law before the late 1780s. "I think it the indispensable duty of every citizen,"
began one editorialist in full common law mode, "to guard and protect their just rights,
particularly when they find them invaded." Yet his argument quickly devolved into
abstraction and hyperbole, as he wrote: "Which of those states has the right of soil? If ...
it is given up by this state ... we can no longer call ourselves a free and independent
people."(29) Tennesseans who wanted to claim a historic right to the soil had to push
beyond legal precedent. The author of this piece recognized this fact at the very end of his editorial, when
he trumped his previous theorizing with a blunt appeal to the second source of the
localist narrative of the 1790s, the right of conquest. "As we possess a country ... which
we gained at the expense of our blood," he declared, "let us and our posterity reap the
benefits thereof."(30) The conquest narrative emerged tentatively from a mass of oral and
written stories about Indian warfare on the western frontier. These late eighteenth-century tales of the raids and skirmishes between settlers and their Indian enemies were
truncated versions of standard Euro-American adventure stories. Storytellers and letter
writers of this period spent surprisingly little time on stock characters such as
threatened innocents, heroic leaders, and brutish villains. Nor did their reports include
the florid style expected for vivid accounts of kidnaping and pursuit, murder and
vengeance. Instead, the trans-Appalachian stories included an odd and dissonant note
unusual to both adventure tales and conquest sagas: an almost defeatist obsession with
loss and death. One of the most familiar of these stories to modern readers, famed long
hunter Daniel Boone's purportedly autobiographical "The Adventures of Colonel
Daniel Boon," includes such a strange passage at the end.(31) When the narrator assesses
the meaning of his struggles, Boone concluded, "My footsteps have often been marked
with blood. Two darling sons, and a brother, have I lost by savage hands, which have
also taken from me forty valuable horses, and an abundance of cattle."(32) It seems
strange that at the end of a story that highlighted his own heroism and the wonders of
the land he had helped conquer, Boone would pause to brood over the theft of some
livestock. Yet his preoccupation with his losses is consistent with a common theme in
the frontier narrative of Indian combat. White Tennesseans, for their part, did the same thing, obsessively listing the cost
of their conflict with the native inhabitants of the region.(33) Indeed, an almost morbid
fascination with recalling the circumstances of the deaths of the fallen set the Tennessee
stories apart from other conquest narratives in the western tradition. One unnamed
Middle Tennessee pioneer recalled an obscure raid on Buchanan's Station by the
Chickamauga mainly for the obscure fate of two men - Seward Cleyton and Johnothan
[sic] Gee, sent out to track the raiders before being ambushed. "They ... started on
tailors trace," the old man still vividly remembered, "and had crossed harrekin creek
and met a party of Indians, the Indians Fired on them and killed Gee dead on the spot,
Cleyton he ran something like a quarter of a mile before they caut him, but being
unfortunate as to get in among some fallen down ceders they headed him and
murdered him."(34) In any culture, conquest stories customarily pass quickly over those
who died on the way, preferring to focus on the genius of commanders, the heroism of
the victors, and the spoils they enjoyed. Later Tennessee narratives, like Andrew
Jackson's reports on his victories at Horseshoe Bend and New Orleans, reinforced a
triumphant tone by emphasizing the small number of losses his troops had suffered
(and even those often were left unnamed in his accounts). White Tennesseans of the
1780s and 1790s, in contrast, listed the people who were killed by Cherokee and
Chickamauga raiding parties with scrupulous discipline. The victor's neglect of his
own dead did not appear in the two decades after the end of the Revolution. Instead,
white Tennesseans sounded a depressing note, almost more interested in remembering
those killed near their homes by Indian raiding parties than men who died in combat.
Pioneer Edward Swanson recalled one Thomas Spencer's death, writing, "He was
returning [home] by way of the new road ... at Spencer's Hill which took its name for
the circumstance of his death he was ambuscaded [sic] by indians and killed ... Had
Spencer lived he would no doubt have amassed a great fortune."(35) Tragic victims
seemed at times more important than fallen heroes. This feature of Tennessean's stories stemmed from the odd nature of their
position on the frontier during this period. Unlike the chroniclers of the Spanish
conquistadors, or later historians of the United States, white Tennesseans were trying to
describe and justify a struggle being carried on without a clear mandate from the
society to the east. The shortcomings of the common law stories made that fact
apparent. Without the unequivocal blessing (and practical support) of the national
government, Tennesseans were conquering largely in defiance of established authority.
Tennesseans therefore cast about for ways to justify their claim to the land they had
taken (particularly when Hopewell and the machinations of the North Carolina
government proved their legal hold on it was weaker than their military grip). White
Tennesseans told these stories to each other, and to eastern authorities, in an attempt to
claim a right of conquest - a blood price they had paid for the land that trumped all
other claims. Yet candid statements of a right of conquest like the one offered by the Tennessee
Gazette editorialist above were scarce during this period. While the right of conquest
was a diplomatic necessity in European power politics, it had little in the way of a
narrative structure in the culture to support it. The archetypical conquest narrative that
western Europeans drew on was the Hebrew conquest of the Promised Land. Indeed, a
few people had already made the analogy, noting the American settler's milk and
honey: rich soil and abundant game. John William Gerard de Brahm, an engineer
directing on the construction of Fort Loudon way back in 1756, had said: "should this
country once come into the hands of the Europeans, they may with propriety call it the
American Canaan."(36) Yet the main purpose of the story told in Joshua and Judges was
to reject the right of conquest. The seizure of the original Canaan taught instead that
conquered land, like military victory, was a gift from God, rather than a just payment
for personal heroism and sacrifice. Certainly this lesson had been incorporated into the
tradition of English radicalism which Revolutionary political ideology drew on.
Opponents of royal power rejected the right of conquest monarchists claimed
descended from the Norman invasions, while John Locke spent a large stretch of his
Two Treatises of Government hedging the right of conquest with so many restrictions
as to make it practically unrewarding.(37) In the face of this kind of disapproval, most
conquest historians in the western tradition have sought higher justifications for armed
overthrow and dispossession - crusades against the infidel, conversion of the pagans,
civilization or democratization of the savages. Yet such higher justifications needed the sanction of high and legitimate
authority, which white Tennesseans struggled to gain during these years. Stories of
Indian warfare that laid heaviest emphasis on tragedy and loss took root among white
Tennesseans. Yet they remained largely private and internal, rarely emerging in public
political discourse and printed narratives until much later. Antiquarians would repeat
some of the lists of the dead, but they would use the notion of a blood price paid for the
land only as a minor element encouraging filiopietism. Instead, they would justify the
state's settlement through the causes of civilization, the Revolution, and the progress of
the American nation and the white race. For the moment, while the reasoning behind
the Tennessee conquest narrative was clear, it remained inadequate to the broader
needs of the region's white settlers. They might claim a basic right of conquest, paid for
in blood and treasure, but they lacked the narrative tools to do so effectively.
Tennesseans could not assert their autonomy without a stronger historical narrative
justifying their past and defining their identity. To find that narrative they would have
to stretch their story beyond their narrow geographic boundaries. Race and Nation (1800-1820) In the years after 1800, white Tennesseans were able to resolve the problems that
had plagued their historical beliefs in the 1780s and 1790s. The election of Thomas
Jefferson to the Presidency in 1800 brought in a national administration much more
sympathetic to the trans-Appalachian region. For their part, white Tennesseans did a
great deal to elect Jefferson, and in the years that followed Tennessee politicians pushed
the Republican administration to adapt their vision of American development to the
goals of western settlers. White Tennesseans emerging narrative of their own past was
crucial to this process, as they built a tale around the region's settlement that pushed
the nation toward the War of 1812, and later fed into a national history centered on
westward expansion. White Tennesseans had always been eager to link their story to the powerful
narrative being constructed around the American Revolution - hence George
Roulstone's need to characterize William Blount as an ardent patriot and confidant of
George Washington. The people writing the history of the founding of the republic cut
through the complexities of colonial politics to unite political power, leadership, and
popular aspiration into a single story of heroic liberation. Yet linking the struggles of
the overmountain settlements to the Revolutionary epic had been a difficult for white
Tennesseans. Frontier regions themselves had played only a tangential role in the war
itself, and had provided none of the major leaders who would become known as the
Founding Fathers. For most of the 1780s and 1790s the main tangible outcome of the
Revolution, the new national government, seemed decidedly unsympathetic to the
overmountain settlements. As noted above, drawing on the whiggish common law
narrative was also awkward, as the national government kept undermining settlers
attempts' to establish precedents that would trump the claims of North Carolina, the
Cherokee, and other parties that had an interest in events in the Tennessee and
Cumberland Valleys. Jefferson's administration, however, brought in a policies for land distribution
and Indian relations much more supportive of settlement expansion. Jefferson also
appointed federal officials in the west much more sympathetic to the locals, such as
Cherokee Indian Agent Return Jonathan Meigs.(38) As the national administration grew
more friendly, state relations with North Carolina deteriorated. North Carolina's
continued attempts to use the terms of the 1789 cession to sell Tennessee lands
threatened the new state's precarious finances. Tennesseans responded to the new
political situation by telling a story that embraced their American-ness while
demonizing North Carolina. Tennesseans began constructing this narrative by simplifying and dramatizing
the frontier hostilities that marked the expansion of white settlement in the region. To
do this they joined their story to a racist narrative emerging around the European world
during this period. Early modern stories such as Ariosto's Orlando Furioso, the legends
of Prester John, and Hakluyt's Principal Navigations of the English Nation, had all foreseen
the possibility of a multi-racial Christendom that would vindicate European
expansionism.(39) Profitable colonial empires, however, required forced labor and
confiscation of land and resources. Yet justified conquest still demanded a higher cause
than simple self-aggrandizement be served by western settlement. European history
and literature filled this need by creating a narrative archetype of race war, in which
heroic colonizers battled monstrously savage natives, often in defense of the romantic
symbols of civilization, white women. The Revolution seems to have accelerated this
trend in the United States and it reached its fruition in a flood of historical fiction
depicting a frontier race war during the early national period.(40) By the time major
novels like Cooper's Last of the Mohicans, Robert Montgomery Byrd's Nick O' the
Woods, and William Gilmore Simms's The Yemassee were published later in the
antebellum era, readers were primed to accept stories of Indian atrocities, hand-to-hand
combat between white and red in the primeval forest, and the desperate struggle to
protect or despoil pure white womanhood.(41) Political and intellectual leaders also
encouraged this process, as writers like Thomas Jefferson created a popular cause in
their vision of a broad advance of white American civilization at the expense of racially-inferior Native Americans.(42) In their stories of the events of the settlement period,
Tennessee pioneers were also using these models, turning their frontier battles into an
ennobling national struggle between civilization and savagery. In practical terms, they
turned them into a brutal race war. Tennesseans made notable changes in their print treatment of Native Americans
during this period. Before 1800, stories of Indian attacks had been muted and matter-of-fact. Men and women were reported as having been "kill'd" or "murdered" with
little editorializing. As noted above, the purpose of these stories was more to establish
the blood price claim to the land than to demonize the Cherokee or Creek. In fact,
white Tennesseans seemed to take more time to find a little black humor in stories of
the Indian Wars. When reporting the killing of Jonathan Clayton by Chickamauga
warriors (mentioned above), the unnamed pioneer storyteller went on to add "it is
supposed that if he had of had a fair Chance he would of made his escape for the
Indians said afterwards that he ran like a buck."(43) In 1791, the Knoxville Register told a
brief story of a group of travelers crossing the Cumberland Plateau to reach the Middle
Tennessee settlements. A group of Cherokee hunters appeared, spooking the men of
the party, who abandoned women, children, and baggage to run back to the east. The
Cherokee, no doubt highly amused, generously chased down the party's horses and
guided them on to Cumberland River settlements.(44) Most interestingly, Cherokee
leaders were portrayed in the writings of the pre-1800 period as distinct individuals.
Not only in the official correspondence of frontier commanders and treaty negotiators
like Joseph Martin and John Sevier, but in the popular press as well, men like John
Watts, Hanging Maw, Bloody Fellow, and Dragging Canoe repeatedly appeared as
unique personalities. Many years later, pioneers could still speak of their Indian
opponents as feared and hated enemies, but still had an impressive understanding of
the human complexities of Cherokee politics and leadership. By the outbreak of the War of 1812, though, white Tennesseans' had changed
their tone completely.(45) Leaders of the Creek Indian nation were largely unfamiliar,
and noticeably unnamed, in Tennessee accounts of the Redstick War and Jackson's
campaigns in Alabama. The distinct personalities of the late-eighteenth century view of
Native Americans had been replaced with a stock character in a racial melodrama - the
villainous savage. Andrew Jackson, of course, used the pulpit of his public position to
lead the way in turning Indians into subhuman brutes in the public mind. His
messages to his troops, to Governor Willie Blount and the Tennessee Legislature, and to
the popular press and public meetings described the Creek simply as "ferocious by
nature ... barbarians ... ignorant of the influence of civilization, and of government."(46)
Yet Jackson only echoed the tone of commentary throughout Tennessee. A committee
of the state legislature resolved for war in 1812, declaring that the Creek were
"wretched, savage tribes," who had "raised their tomahawks ... for the indiscriminate
murder of our Aged fathers and mothers, and helpless children."(47) A speaker at a
Nashville public meeting after the war informed Jackson's officers that Tennessee had
been attacked "by a foe destitute of every trace of humanity."(48) Accounts of individual
Indian attacks began focusing on the more grisly details, eventually embroidering them
into mind-boggling and often largely fictitious tales of maniacal blood lust. By the early
1820s, Edward Swanson was taking time to go into detail about the fate of one Mrs.
James Haggert, who "was Shot and killed, her head ... Scalped, her body ... Cut open in
a most inhuman manner, and the infant of her pregnancy torn out."(49) Women were
raped and mutilated, babies' heads were dashed against rocks, and lurid adjectives
piled one atop another in a frenzy of hatred and condemnation. The conflict in the
southwest turned in popular memory from a desperate struggle for land into an epic
clash between stages in the development of the human species. Yet white Tennesseans also needed to convince themselves and others that the
race war they were creating on the southern frontier was a microcosm of the broader
struggles of the American nation. Historical narrative also played a vital role in this
process. Against the old Federalist charge that Indian wars were brought on by illegal
white settlements on Indian lands, Tennesseans told a story of foreign encouragement
of Indian attacks. Britain and Spain, they claimed, were giving material and moral
support to encourage the southern tribes to attack frontier settlements. The basis of this
sinister conspiracy, they declared, was that European nations were jealous of American
representative government and civilization, and hoped to thwart it in combination with
the savage Indians. Rather than a troublesome backwater dragging the country into
costly misadventures, the frontier became, for white Tennesseans and the people who
listened to them, the front line of America's struggle for national liberation.(50) This
nationalist story of the frontier wars quickly took deep root in Tennessee. By the early
1820s, one semi-lettered pioneer could tell the story of the Indian wars of the early 1790s
in this way: Those who Risided in the western teritory and the people of Kentucky who had been gilty
of no other offence than that of Concurring with the Rest of the united States in
aformation of a Constitution which Excluded from its formation arristrocrcy and
monarky and was about to prove to the world that mankind could be haply governed with
out the assistance of Either for this offence only the Inglish on the one hand had Stirred
up the northern Indians against Kentucky and the Spanards now upon the Eve becoming
their allies had also possesd the Creeks & Cherokees to begin the work of death and to
harrow the people of Cumberland with all the dissolations these united Savages Could
bring upon them ...(51) To secure their vitriol against the British, Tennesseans framed the War of 1812 as
a logical culmination to the American Revolution.(52) A public celebration held after the
return of Tennessee troops from the Creek War toasted the salute, "The Heroes of '76 --
Their blood sealed our Independence, Ours shall cement it!"(53) On the eve of war, the
Nashville Whig approving reprinted a piece from the Charlestown Gazette that claimed "It
is a truth incontrovertible, solemn, and impressive, that the United States may never
look for permanent peace and prosperity while G. Britain holds any territory in North
America."(54) With this story about the origins of the decades-long war on the southern
frontier having gained popular acceptance, Tennessee was able to recruit thousands of
men to go on two expeditions to fend off a British invasion of the Gulf Coast. A few
years later, Andrew Jackson was able to cross the Florida border and execute two
British Indian traders to the general delight of white Tennessee. Just as importantly, the
American public listened to stories of Indian savagery and European intrigue, and
forced the government to lend even more vigorous support to the extension of western
settlement. John Haywood and the Fulfillment of Tennessee History In 1810, esteemed North Carolina attorney and jurist John Haywood left his
home state and settled in Middle Tennessee. In addition to building a prosperous law
practice and being quickly appointed to the state supreme court, Haywood pursued an
intense interest in Tennessee history. His work culminated in the publication of The
Civil and Political History of Tennessee from its Earliest Settlement to 1796, the state's
first formal history.(55) In that work, Haywood pulled together the strands of Tennessee
historical narrative into a powerful account of the state's history. Haywood's story
about the origins of Tennessee would serve as the basis for later antiquarian and public
histories of the state, stand largely unchallenged until the emergence of academic
scholarship on the region well over a century later. Haywood's story about the origins of the overmountain settlements, in
particular, combined the narrative archetypes Tennesseans were using. His pages were
full of accounts of Indian battles and depredations, and of descriptions of virtuous
backcountry leaders who defied indifferent and ineffectual authority to protect the
settlements. Yet for all the research that went into The Civil and Political History of
Tennessee, Haywood's story often butted heads with the facts. To make the story of
Tennessee an exemplary microcosm of America's history, Haywood needed to make
the migration to the Holston country a trek of liberation. Any good journey to freedom,
of course, needed an escape from slavery in the Exodus tradition. Haywood found his
source of enslavement in the North Carolina Regulators, a revolt of backcountry
farmers against local government officials. The Regulator Movement offered Haywood
excellent material - as a rebellion against expanding power and corrupt officialdom, it
fit well into the common law narrative of the Revolution. In the ringing language of the
Anglo-American resistance tradition, Haywood wrote that "the extortions of clerks,
lawyers, and tax-gatherers fell with intolerable weight upon the people." "The
offenders," he went on, "were the men in power, who were appointed by the law to
redress the wrongs of the people."(56) Armed rebellion itself did not fit well with an Exodus plot structure, though, and
Haywood passed over it in three sentences. He preferred instead to talk about
emigration as a means of resistance, writing that, "In these afflicting circumstances it became necessary for men of property to come to the
westward in quest of the means to repair the dilapidations of their broken fortunes, and
for the poor to go somewhere in search of independence and a share of respectability,
absolutely unattainable in the country of their nativity. In the wilderness beyond the
mountains they were promised at least exemption from the supercilious annoyance of
those who claimed a pre-eminence above them."(57) The problem with all this was that only a rather small minority of the
overmountain settlers came from North Carolina. The vast majority came instead down
the Shenandoah Valley and from parts of Virginia, including prominent leaders like
Evan Shelby, Arthur and David Campbell, and John Sevier. The parties to the Watauga
Compact adopted the Virginia legal code they were familiar with. Moreover, there
seems to have been a decidedly negative correlation between involvement in the
Regulator uprising and migration to the Holston country.(58) Indeed, many of the early
leaders of settlement were closely tied to Richard Henderson's land speculations - even
though the man was a major target of Regulator wrath.(59) Haywood also worked to match his settlement story to the emerging American
nationalism of Tennessee history in the early nineteenth century. He tied his vivid
picture of backcountry North Carolinians "driven by oppression to desperation and
madness" to the larger movement of the Revolution. He could not get around the
frequent references made by late eighteenth-century Tennesseans to North Carolina
Tories who migrated from the western reaches of the state to the Watauga settlements
before and during the Revolution. Indeed, just thirty years earlier an author in the
Knoxville Gazette recalled events in this manner, saying "there were a number of people called Regulators, who had fledto the extreme frontier for
safety, after their battle against Governor Tryon, at Alamance, in which they had got
such a scourging, as to deter them from any further offensive measures against the
British or their allies; and were then actually about joining the Cherokees against the
Americans."(60) So instead Haywood worked to paint the Regulators' enemies as vigorous supporters of
royal power. The militiamen of eastern North Carolina who defeated the Regulators at
the Battle of Alamance in 1771, Haywood described as "the royal forces, under the
command of Gov. Tryon." "When the oath of allegiance to the new State government
was offered to the people of North Carolina," Haywood went on, "men ... who had so
lately been the tyrants of the country refused to take the oath and left the United
States."(61) Again, more recent historical research has complicated this simple picture of
royalist oppressors ruling the colony of North Carolina. The leaders of the Whig cause
in the colony came from among the eastern elites who had supported Governor Tryon
during the Regulator crisis in 1771. Haywood took another step in joining the settlement of Tennessee to the
Revolutionary cause. Tennesseans' main participation in the Revolution had been to
take part in a victory over a small army of Loyalist troops at Kings Mountain, North
Carolina, in 1780. Haywood focused in that event, inflating its significance to the
Revolutionary cause, and touting the role of overmountain settlers in the fight. During
a "dark and gloomy period of the Revolutionary War [in which] many of the best
friends of the American government ... gave up their freedom and independence for
lost," Haywood wrote that the forces of the Continental Army collapsed. According to
Haywood, effective resistance only emerged when Evan Shelby and John Sevier
decided to raise militiamen to fight the Loyalists. The victory they won (with the help
of large numbers of Virginia and Carolina troops), Haywood enthused, led Lord
Cornwallis, "on being informed [that] the riflemen of the West ... were bearing down on
him, ordered an immediate retreat, march[ing] all night in the utmost confusion ... as far
back as Winnsboro ... from whence he did not attempt to advance until ... three months
later." Haywood took time to note critically that commemorative swords and pistols
promised by the North Carolina legislature to overmountain heroes Shelby and Sevier
were never delivered.(62) The Battle of Kings Mountain had become, in Haywood's
hands, a foundation event for Tennessee history. Other historians would expand on his
version of events, turning the fight into a morality tale of the vital role hardy,
independent frontiersmen had played in creating the American nation.(63) Haywood and others who followed him gave white Tennesseans a vivid and
uplifting historical past. Yet his work was a culmination rather than a beginning.
Haywood merely integrated a number of stories and narrative archetypes people in
Tennessee had been experimenting with for several decades. Settlers struggling for a
clear sense of group identity and purpose in a confusing world needed to draw on and
understand their own history. They followed the path of most human beings by
imposing order on a mass of bewildering and contradictory events by trying to fit them
into narrative archetypes common to their culture. White Tennesseans shaped a
popular memory by retelling their memories, desires, and opinions as stories. The
work of men like John Haywood was built on a foundation of popular imagination and
storytelling that shaped, and was shaped by, the first half-century of white settlement in
Tennessee. 1. Knoxville Gazette, 26 March 1800, reprinted in the Tennessee Gazette [Nashville], 16 April 1800.
2. George Washington to David Henley, 3 July 1797, The Papers of George Washington, Dorothy
Twohig, ed., Retirement Series, vol. 1., 229-30.
3. For twentieth-century retellings of Blount's career, see Thomas Perkins Abernethy, From Frontier
to Plantation in Tennessee: A Study of Frontier Democracy, reprint edition, (Tuscaloosa, AL: University of
Alabama Press, 2003), and William Masterson, William Blount, (Baton Rouge, LA: Louisiana State
University Press, 1954).
4. Literary critics have, over the last several decades, generated an enormous volume of scholarship
studying the rules of the narrative form. Seminal works in the field include Wayne Booth, The Rhetoric of
Fiction, (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1961), Gerard Genette, Narrative Discourse: An Essay
on Method, trans. Jan Lewin. (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1980), Roland Barthes, "Introduction
to the Structural Analysis of Narratives," in Susan Sontag, ed. A Barthes Reader, (New York: Hill &
Wang, 1982), 251-295, and Paul Ricoeur, Time and Narrative, trans. Kathleen McLaughlin and David
Pellauer, (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1984). For an accessible introduction to a diverse and
difficult field, see H. Porter Abbott, The Cambridge Introduction to Narrative, (New York: Cambridge
University Press, 2002).
5. The best-known historian who has analyzed the ways in which narrative conventions make
themselves felt in historical writing is Hayden White. See his works Metahistory: The Historical
Imagination in Nineteenth-Century Europe, (Baltimore, MD: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1973),
and particularly The Content of the Form: Narrative Discourse and Historical Representation, (Baltimore,
MD: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1987).
6. J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, (New York: Arthur A. Levine, 1998).
7. The archetype of the virtuous public servant developed in part, obviously, in opposition to an
even more vivid stock character, Macchiavelli's scheming, power-hungry, amoral "Prince."
8. Washington to Henley, op cit.
9. Interestingly, the greatest attack on Blount's career, Abernethy's From Frontier to Plantation in
Tennessee, paints the man as a sinister, spidery figure, graping for power and corrupting public office in
the quest for personal gain. Abernethy's Blount is a character remarkably similar to English political
writer Bolingbroke's "Robinarch," the archetype of the shadowy back-room power-grabber. Bolingbroke
sketched the Robinarch in contrast to the "Patriot King,", his own version of the virtuous public servant.
10. Mia Taylor, "Early Recollections of Madison County," Huntsville Historical Magazine, 2 (1972),
21-22, cited in Tom Kanon, "
11. In addition to gathering documents and recollections from the descendants of well-known frontier figures, antebellum antiquarians of the post-1820 period also tracked down aging pioneers and took down their stories of Indian battles and frontier hardship. For a discussion of prominent antiquarians in Tennessee, see Ned Irwin, "Collecting Memory: Antiquarians and the Preservation of the Early History of the trans-Appalachian Frontier," Journal of East Tennessee History 72 (2000): 62-81.
12. Draper Collection of Manuscripts, Tennessee Papers and Kings Mountain Papers, State Historical Society of Wisconsin, Madison [microfilm].
13. For their stories, see Samuel Cole Williams, ed., Early Travels in the Tennessee Country, 1540-1800, (Nashville, TN: Blue and Gray Press, 1972).
14. See, for instance, Anthony Bledsoe to Joseph Martin, 8 April 1777, Tennessee Papers, Draper Collection, 1XX21.
15. See, for instance, James Thompson to Joseph Martin, 1 March 1777, Tennessee Papers, Draper Collection, 1XX15.
16. Penn to Martin, op cit.
17. Anthony Bledsoe to Joseph Martin, 8 April 1777, Tennessee Papers, Draper Collection, 1XX21.
18. William Johnston to Joseph Martin, 12 July 1775. Tennessee Papers, Draper Collection, 1XX8.
19. Thompson to Martin, op cit.
20. For instance, see Knoxville Register, 4 September 1798, p. 3.
21. Knoxville Register, 6 April 1793, p. 1.
22. Knoxville Gazette, 6 October 1792, p. 2.
23. Ibid.
24. Knoxville Gazette, 17 December 1791, p. 3.
25. Edward Hyde, Earl of Clarendon, The History of the Rebellion and Civil Wars in England Begun in the Year 1641, (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992), Henry St. John, Viscount Bolingbroke, "The Idea of a Patriot King," in Bolingbroke, The Works of Lord Bolingbroke, (New York: A. M. Kelley, 1967). See also Thomas H. Robinson, "Lord Clarendon's Conspiracy Theory," Albion, 13 (1981), 96-116.
26. For the best-known discussion of the importance of this tradition in America, see Bernard Bailyn, The Ideological Origins of the American Revolution, (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1967), chs. 2-3. Part of the reason Paine's "Common Sense" caused such a sensation (and aroused such unease among the Founding Fathers) was Paine's willingness to abandon these narratives and argue from pure expediency.
27. Knoxville Register, 20 April 1793, p. 4.
28. Knoxville Register, 6 April 1793, p. 1.
29. "Si Populi vult decipi decipiatur,"Tennessee Gazette, 25 February 1800, p. 1.
30. 25 February 1800, Tennessee Gazette (Nashville), 2.
31. Most of the tale was clearly written up by John Filson, to whose Discovery, Settlement, and Present State of Kentucke "The Adventures" was appended. Incongruously, Filson made Boone a mouthpiece for his own Enlightenment outlook, but occasionally the old hunter's own voice broke through.
32. "The Autobiography of Col. Daniel Boon," online version, Archiving Early America,
http://www.earlyamerica.com/lives/boone/chapt3/index.html. Accessed 12 January 2004.
33. For the vital importance white Tennesseans attached to these listings of the dead, see the catalog
of murders James Donelson risked his life to bring from the Cumberland settlements to Knoxville in 1793.
Reprinted in the Knoxville Gazette, 18 May 1793, p. 3.
34. John Haywood Papers, Folder 4, Document 4, p. 3, Tennessee State Library and Archives,
Nashville.
35. John Haywood Papers, Folder 5, Appendix 3, p. 1.
36. Williams, Early Travels in the Tennessee Country, 193.
37. For the royalist right of conquest argument, see Rose Meza, "Helvyn's Theory of Royal
Sovereignty," Historical Magazine of the Protestant Episcopal Church, 55 (1986), 179-202, John Locke,
Two Treatises of Government, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1960), Book Two, Chapter 16.
38. Meigs record in serving the cause of Indian removal was enshrined for posterity when
Tennessee named a county after him. He has yet to receive similar honors from the Cherokee nation.
39. For the rise and fall of these images of non-European peoples, see Robert Berkhofer, The White
Man's Indian: Images of the American Indian from Columbus to the Present, (New York: Alfred Knopf,
1978), and Ronald Sanders, Lost Tribes and Promised Lands: The Origins of American Racism, (New
York: HarperPerennial, 1992).
40. The most influential of the revolutionary-period race war historical novels was Charles
Brockden Brown's 1799 work, Edgar Huntly. See Warren F. Broderick, "Fiction Based on 'Well-Authenticated Facts': Documenting the Birth of the American Novel," Hudson Valley Regional Review, 4
(1987), 1-37. For their own past romanticized and racialized, Tennesseans could read "Don Pedro
Casender," The Lost Virgin of the South, An Historical Novel, Founded on Facts, Connected with the Indian War
in the South, in 1812 to '15, first published in 1832. For a general discussion, see Louise Barnett, The
Ignoble Savage: American Literary Racism, 1790-1890, (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1975).
41. The major works listed here did include more subtle characterizations of Native Americans,
often as tragic heroes, noble primitives giving way before the coming of civilization. Yet these characters
were always balanced against purely savage Indians, as Cooper balanced Chingachcook with Magua.
Many writers of Tennessee popular history have created a similar balance between Nancy Ward and
Cherokee war leaders, especially Dragging Canoe. More ambitious literary works, not surprisingly, sat
atop a growing mass of popular writing that did not take time to attach nobility to any of its cardstock
"savages."
42. For the definitive work in a burgeoning literature on the links between racism and early national
expansionism, see Anthony F. C. Wallace, Jefferson and the Indians: The Tragic Fate of the First
Americans, (Cambridge MA: Belknap Press, 1999). For other recent work, see Mary Young's review
essay, "Indian Policy in the Age of Jefferson," Journal of the Early Republic, 20 (2000), 297-307.
43. John Haywood Papers, Folder 4, Document 4, p. 3.
44. Knoxville Register, 19 November 1791.
45. For an excellent discussion of Tennesseans' attitudes toward Native Americans during the
1810s, see Tom Kanon, "Frontier Fathers and Martial Sons: Indian Hating in the Backcountry prior to the
War of 1812," M.A. Thesis, Middle Tennessee State University, 2003.
46. Nashville Whig, 24 May 1814, p. 2.
47. Nashville Whig, 28 October 1812, p. 1.
48. Nashville Whig, 17 May 1814, p. 2.
49. John Haywood Papers, Folder 5, Appendix 3, p. 1.
50. For the national impact of this rhetoric, see Kanon, "Frontier Fathers and Martial Sons," ch. 4.
51. John Haywood Papers, Folder 1, Document 2, Page 1.
52. The national spread of this view has been noted by several scholars. For the classic analysis of
the mind-set, see Drew McCoy, The Elusive Republic: Political Economy in Jeffersonian America, (Chapel
Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press for the Institute of Early American History and Culture,
1980), ch. 10.
53. Nashville Whig, 24 May 1814, p. 2. For a closer analysis of the generational implications of
statements like this, see Kanon, "Frontier Fathers and Martial Sons," 6-10.
54. Nashville Whig, 9 September 1812, p. 4.
55. John Haywood, The Civil and Political History of the State of Tennessee, from Its Earliest
Settlement Up to the Year 1796, (Knoxville, TN: Heiskell & Brown, 1823).
56. Haywood, The Civil and Political History of the State of Tennessee, 51.
57. Ibid.
58. Abernethy, From Frontier to Plantation in Tennessee, 7-8, note 21, 346-7.
59. Ibid., 346.
60. Knoxville Gazette, 6 April 1793, p. 1.
61. Haywood, The Civil and Political History of the State of Tennessee, 51, 52.
62. Ibid., 80-86.
63. See above all, Lyman Copeland Draper, Kings Mountain and Its Heroes: History of the Battle of
Kings Mountain, October 7, 1780, and the Events Which Led to It, (Cincinnati, OH: P.G. Thomson, 1881),
and J(ames) G(ettys) M(cGready) Ramsey, Annals of Tennessee to the End of the Eighteenth Century.
(Charleston, SC: Walker & James, 1853).