This week in Revolutionary War history, let’s check up on what was going on 250 years ago in New England and the northern Thirteen Colonies. Last week, rumors and anxieties swirl over reports that 12,000 Hessian mercenaries from Germany are on their way to support British lines. At the same time, the Colony of Rhode Island was the first to declare independence while a meeting of delegates in Virginia is moving toward the same motion.

            On May 10, 1776, General George Washington writes his cousin and manager of his estate of Mount Vernon Lund Washington, informing his manager, cousin, and friend that “I am not able to form any idea of the time of my return.” He then thoroughly outlines the repayment procedure he expects of Lund for various debts to other neighboring estates or business partners. He finishes, “The many matters which hang heavy upon my hands at present do not allow me time…”

            On May 11, in response to fears over the arrival of thousands of Hessians, Washington proposes to John Hancock “may it not be advisable and good policy to raise some companies of our Germans to send among ‘em when they arrive, for spirit of disaffection and desertion?” Washington hopes bands of German-speaking American soldiers can convince the Hessians to either stand down or switch sides.

            On May 12, Washington’s General Orders inform carpenters, boat builders, and painters in New York to be ready the next morning at sunrise. They are being called upon to assist in the fortification efforts of the city.

            On May 13, John Adams speaks in front of the Continental Congress in Philadelphia. The delegate from Massachusetts calls on Pennsylvania to not dismantle their government, but to for a new one, separate from the Crown. He adds, “We can’t go upon stronger reasons, than that the King has thrown us out of his protection. Why should we support governments under his authority?”

            Pushes away from the authority of the Kingdom of Great Britain seemed to be spawning across the empire, with the town of Maugerville, Nova Scotia voting against the rule of the Crown. In a meeting attended by most residents of the Canadian settlement, eight resolutions were passed to both condemn rulings by the British Parliament and express desire to be under the government of Massachusetts, formally requesting protection from the Commonwealth. The people of Maugerville voted to “share with them the event of the present struggle for liberty.”

            The next day, in response to Rhode Island’s formal declaration of independence, the Fifth Virginia Convention meets in Williamsburg. Delegates from across the colony vote unanimously “to propose to that respectable body to declare the United Colonies free and independent states, absolved from all allegiance to, or dependency upon, the Crown or Parliament of Great Britain.”

            That same day, the motion John Adams had been advocating for was passed by the Congress, though the delegation from Maryland left the vote in protest. The passage of this “preamble” would serve as the foundation of a later certain declaration. On the vote, Adams would say, “This day the Congress has passed the most important resolution that ever was taken in America.”

This Week in Revolutionary War History

By Sam Bishop

            Paris in the springtime is a sublime experience. Arriving from capricious New England in mid-April, I found Paris already fully leafed out, awash in pastel blooms with temperatures climbing into the 70s. Off came the jacket as we settled into seats at an outdoor café, savoring the warmth and the easy rhythm of the city. The beautiful weather continued throughout my stay, much to my delight. Yet the greatest joy of all was reuniting with my daughter and son-in-law who are fortunate to call Paris their home.

            What struck me immediately was how far ahead Paris was in spring’s unfolding, thanks to its milder maritime climate. Wisteria cascaded over stone walls and balconies, while chestnut trees stood crowned in blossoms – scenes so lush and fragrant they felt almost transporting. Everywhere we wandered, spring announced itself with elegance.

            One afternoon in the Parc des Buttes-Chaumont, we marveled at the Temple of the Sibyl, a miniature homage to the ancient Temple of Vesta in Tivoli, Italy. Perched above a manmade lake, the park offered sweeping views and a moment of calm reflection as I caught my breath from striding the steep grade. Couples, friends and families stretched out on the already thick green lawns relaxing in the afternoon sunshine. The park, commissioned by Napoleon III during Paris’s great 19th-century transformation, opened in 1867 after a former gypsum quarry and landfill had been transformed into one of the city’s most enchanting green spaces. Its rolling hills, exotic trees, waterfalls, and bird-filled lake make it difficult to imagine that this tranquil setting once stood near the infamous Gibbet of Montfaucon, where, for centuries, the bodies of executed criminals were displayed.

            Another afternoon while across the city we ventured to Jardin du Luxembourg, a place I had not visited since I was twenty-one and backpacking across Europe. Set beside the Latin Quarter in the heart of the Left Bank, the gardens offer a striking contrast to the romantic wildness of Buttes-Chaumont. Created in the early 17th century for Queen Marie de’ Medici, widow of Henry IV, and inspired by the gardens of Florence, they were designed to surround her new palace – now home to the French Senate.

            The Luxembourg Gardens blend French formality with a softer English style: chestnut-lined promenades, geometric flowerbeds, quiet lawns, fountains, and statues at nearly every turn. Its most poetic corner is the Medici Fountain, modeled after Italian Florentine design, with its long, shaded reflecting pool centered by Auguste Ottin’s sculpture Polyphemus Surprising Acis and Galatea. We wandered the park watching children sail rented toy boats across the central basin, just as they have since the 19th century. Later we joined others escaping the heat beneath the trees – old friends talking quietly on the green metal chairs, visitors lingering to absorb the calm beauty of the gardens.

            Looking back, I see how these two parks speak very different visions of Parisian green space – each reflecting a distinct mood and history.

            Buttes-Chaumont is theatrical, romantic, slightly unruly – the kind of landscape one might expect in an English painting, all steep inclines, unexpected turns, and picturesque follies. Olivia told me she first discovered it on her first visit to the city and actually envisioned herself living here. Now she does, not far from its winding paths.

            The Jardin du Luxembourg, by contrast, conjures palace grounds with its poise and symmetry. The layout feels royal in the gravel promenades, clipped trees, fountains, and carefully arranged flowerbeds. If Buttes-Chaumont feels like a romantic escape, the Luxembourg Gardens feel like the polished salon of the city itself. One is atmospheric and unexpected; the other elegant and composed. Together they reveal two sides of Paris – its love of cultivated beauty and its delight in imaginative reinvention.

            The vacation could not have been more perfectly timed. It felt less like a traditional tour of landmarks than a rare opportunity simply to enjoy one another’s company. We did venture out to several memorable places – a mesmerizing concert by Anohni at Philharmonie de Paris, dinner in Montmartre, a hike through Père Lachaise Cemetery, and a day trip to Monet’s gardens at Giverny (the latter to be explored in a future column) – but much of the real joy of the trip came from simply being together at chez McLean/Caudron.

            Perhaps best of all was the unexpected discovery that my daughter has developed a genuine passion for gardening, a pleasure that felt perfectly in tune with the season itself.

            Olivia had anticipated that I would help her with plant selection for the balcony of their new apartment. Naturellement, I would assist – after all, I make house calls for family, especially those living abroad. I was delighted to find the balcony on the sunny side of the building, overlooking neighboring gardens softened by trees and walls that created a sense of private green refuge. Aside from this “borrowed” landscape, the balcony itself was sparse: a vigorous wisteria already trained along the railing, and a few rather tired potted shrubs left behind by previous tenants, soon to be subjected to a decisive pruning as we began the balconyscaping.

            This is also now the domain of their cat, Victor, who comes and goes freely through his cat door during daylight hours. The couple, however, wanted the space to serve them as well. They already have a bistro table and chairs, along with a pizza oven, and hope to add a lounge chair to complete their small urban Eden.

            Without delay, we set out the day after my arrival for Truffaut garden center, a large and rather spectacular greenhouse-style nursery. It is an expansive place, carrying everything imaginable, including an unexpected section devoted to exotic birds and small animals. We focused on culinary herbs and decorative plants suited to the long balcony stretching the length of the apartment.

            Sebastien assembled a grow table designed specifically for herbs, which fit neatly into a sunny alcove of the terrace. Into it we planted thyme, rosemary, bay leaf, lemongrass, basil, oregano, with mint put in a separate terracotta pot as mint insists on its independence.

            For edibles, we added cherry tomatoes, jalapeño peppers, artichokes, and a lemon tree. From there, the project became more playful: climbing jasmines, Cytisus canariensis (Canary Island broom), bamboo, and a ceanothus – California lilac with its rich blue blooms – along with two standard lavenders. Window boxes were seeded with annuals, including bright orange nasturtiums that would spill cheerfully over the railing.

            I honestly felt I did more than help with installing plants but had ‘planted’ a more permanent kind of seed. Olivia was genuinely engaged in a way I had not seen before. Years ago, when she had a rabbit, I created a small garden of kid-friendly plants around its hutch – complete with a tulip-shaped gate my father had crafted – hoping to spark an interest in gardening. It didn’t quite take. But this time felt different.

            She was involved with the hands-on process and what would follow, compiling a document cataloguing every plant along with its watering and care requirements. Even during our visit to Giverny, she lingered with curiosity, noticing for the first time the scent of irises and asking thoughtful questions about what she saw as we toured the amazing plantings. On the drive back to Paris, we stopped again for more pots and supplies.

            I could see it taking shape: a budding enthusiasm that might well grow into a full-fledged gardener. And yes – there’s something deeply satisfying in that realization. When you live on different continents, time together is never taken for granted; even the simplest moments carry a particular brightness!

            “When spring comes to Paris, the humblest mortal alive must feel that he dwells in paradise.” – Henry Miller.

The Seaside Gardener

By Laura McLean