The Politics of Epithets in the American Revolution, 1763-87 Nicolas Bell-Romero Gonville and Caius College, University of Cambridge March 2020 This dissertation is submitted for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy. i. Declaration This dissertation is the result of my own work and includes nothing which is the outcome of work done in collaboration except as declared in the Preface and specified in the text. It is not substantially the same as any work that I have submitted, or is being concurrently submitted, for a degree or diploma or other qualification at the University of Cambridge or any other University or similar institution except as declared in the Preface and specified in the text. I further state that no substantial part of my dissertation has already been submitted, or is being concurrently submitted, for any such degree, diploma or other qualification at the University of Cambridge or any other University or similar institution except as declared in the Preface and specified in the text. This thesis is 79,358 words in length and does not exceed the prescribed word limit for the History Degree Committee. ii. Abstract This study considers the politics of epithets from the start of the imperial crisis in 1763 until the Constitutional Convention in 1787. More than mere insults, epithets were defined in this period as appellations or titles and were used to describe a person’s qualities or attributes. Despite the importance of these identity terms as the ideals that people most valued in their neighbours, early Americanists do not centre epithets. Historians focus on individual terms – “whig,” “American,” and “republican” – but these labels have not been brought together into a conceptual history of epithets. When these terms are examined together, this thesis argues that the partisans, the opponents of British rule, invented many of the words to discuss who they were, build bonds of belonging amongst their supporters, and identify their internal and external enemies in the Revolutionary period. In attempting to form a sense of themselves and others in the midst of such a divisive event, the partisans transformed the terms of their British colonial past, labels that emerged over the course of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries as the colonists started to envision themselves as distinctive but equal to Britain, and reformed them into epithets that they used to demonstrate the virtues of the United States of America, and determine the ideals that inhabitants were meant to live by in a new nation. This process was far from uncontested though. Rather than emerging separately, the partisans developed their epithets in conversation and opposition to several rival terms that emerged in a war over words with their enemies, including Britons in the metropole, a significant number of native peoples in the Ohio river valley, and persons disaffected to the cause in Virginia. Since the partisans invented these terms in such a conflicted environment, they argued that only those people who showed merit were worthy of using epithets. The politics of epithets was the politics of merit. Since merit was a contested concept, America and Britain’s inhabitants struggled over who merited epithets and constantly changed the guidelines over who deserved to use these terms. This contest over words had Janus-faced outcomes. It allowed the “people out of doors,” including poorer whites, women, and black persons, to claim rights and belonging as meritorious “citizens.” Yet the political elites, those “within doors,” who were instrumental in manufacturing these fighting words, ensured that only the chosen few, especially white men, could call themselves “Americans.” The origins of much social inequality, over who had the same status, in the early United States was therefore partly born from a seemingly egalitarian ideal: a society where epithets were only given to those who deserved them. iii. Acknowledgments Completing a dissertation at Cambridge has been a privilege. There are so many people to thank for making this journey possible. There have been trials and tribulations along the way – and you might be able to guess some of them by reading the thesis. But my mentors, friends, and loved ones – in Australia, the United Kingdom, and the United States – have been a constant source of support, have immeasurably shaped this project, and made the last three and a half years unforgettable. To my supervisor, Dr Sarah Pearsall: my debts are endless. Sarah has gone above and beyond the call of duty so many times. She has read my (often mediocre) chapter drafts. She encouraged me when I was on the right track. She put me on the straight and narrow when I derailed (often spectacularly). She has (literally) written references at all hours of the day and night. She contacted numerous colleges to get me supervising experience. She gave me my first taste of lecturing. She invited me to dinners with some of the smartest people I will ever meet. She emailed me book recommendations, journal articles, or website links that were related to my topic. And she has believed in this project and me even when I had lost all hope in both. Thank you, Sarah! To my advisor, Dr Nick Guyatt: thank you, thank you, and thank you again. Nick came in like a tornado (or a wrecking ball) at the end of my first year to challenge the direction of my thesis up to that point. Without him, the British perspective in the dissertation would be non-existent, the geography still undefined, and the thesis questions would probably still look as if someone wrote them on acid (all despite Sarah’s best efforts to put me on the straight and narrow). But that was not the end of Nick’s influence. Like a mosquito, I have buzzed around Nick for the last three years – sending him numerous requests for references even though he would have been justified in blocking his email. Like Sarah and Nick, my debts to my former supervisor at the University of Sydney, Professor Michael McDonnell, could also fill a page. I would not be an early Americanist without Mike. I came to his office as a bungling twenty-two-year-old and left as a bungling twenty-three-year-old who had just completed an Honours dissertation on the loyalists. But, in the process, Mike completely reenergised my interest in history. Though I feared he would write me off the Christmas card list when I told him that I was turning, however tentatively, to the dark arts of intellectual history, he was always willing to debate ideas over a beer and iv. provide advice. Like so many other PhD students, I cannot thank him enough for what he has done for me. I am also indebted to the senior academics who, whilst not playing a direct role in the dissertation, have provided much-needed assistance or have sat and listened to my questions and complaints. The part of the fourth chapter which deals with British memories of the American Revolution had its genesis in Dr Marco Duranti’s Honours seminar on Modern European history over five years ago. I also want to thank Professor Chris Hilliard. I still have most of the handouts and notes from his “Becoming a Historian” seminar. Most of what I know about the ins and outs of academia – or at the least the part that makes any sense – is owed to Chris’s instruction. At Cambridge, Dr Bronwen Everill, Dr Seth Archer, Professor Gary Gerstle, and Professor Andrew Preston have made me feel welcome from the beginning. Seth, in particular, gave me the opportunity to commentate and present at the American History Workshop. As he has done for so many other Americanists, both early and modern, he also spent time after class asking me questions about the project and recommending new books to read. I was also lucky to meet Professor David Hsiung at the David Library in Washington Crossing, Pennsylvania. Dave drove me to the supermarket for food, patiently listened over pizza and BBQ as I droned on about my research, and he was the perfect companion as we battled over microfilm and illegible handwriting in the library. This thesis would also not be possible without the universities and archives who assisted me in researching this project and the brilliant (and patient) archivists who make the work of historians possible. I am grateful to the Virginia Historical Society in Richmond, the William L. Clements Library at the University of Michigan, the David Library of the American Revolution, and the International Centre for Jefferson Studies at Monticello for the fellowships that they so generously provided so that I could visit the United States. I am also thankful for the assistance of the following institutions: the Liverpool Record Office, and National Archives in the United Kingdom; the Newberry Library in Chicago; the American Philosophical Library, and Historical Society of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia; the friends Historical Library at Swarthmore College; the John D. Rockefeller Library at Colonial Williamsburg; the Earl Gregg Swem Library at the College of William and Mary in Williamsburg; and the Library of Virginia in Richmond. The University of Sydney also provided much needed financial assistance so I could come to Cambridge in the first place. The Cambridge History faculty and Gonville and Caius College have also been swift at dealing with my constant applications for funds. I am particularly thankful to my graduate tutor, Dr Ruth Scurr, for her tireless efforts on my behalf and to the entire History faculty administration staff, particularly Mike Weaver and v. Ed Mayes, for fielding numerous emails at all hours of the day for room bookings and grant requests.