I couldn’t help but note that once
again this year the date of October 19th passed without editorial
notice let alone any official celebration. Not surprising when the event in
question took place 234 years ago. It says something about how long I have been
around when I can say that in my own elementary school days that historical
“oversight” would not have occurred; especially given that I lived in the State
of New Jersey, on whose soil some of the American Revolutionary War’s most
crucial battles were fought, and in whose woods and fields kids my age were
still digging up rusted musket balls, uniform buttons and other artifacts of
that hard-fought War of Independence.
After five long years of that
up-hill struggle pitting America’s yeomen and farm-boy armies against the
combined military of the world’s most powerful nation, the day of victory came
on October 19th, 1781 when Lord Cornwallis surrendered his army at
Yorktown, Virginia ending a three-week siege and Britain’s struggle to save
much of its investment in the New World. (A “New World” by the way in which at
least 40% of the inhabitants still thought of themselves as loyal subjects of
the king.)
The Battle of Yorktown was widely
known afterward, as the “German Battle”, not just because a fairly large
proportion of Britain’s infantry was composed of professional soldiers – known
as Hessians -- from several of Germany’s
states, including Hess, but because 3,000 of Washington’s soldiers were themselves
German/Americans. (Up until the beginning of World War I, German was the 2nd
most spoken language in the United States.)
In the 18th Century,
Germany as we think of it today was not so much a country as a conglomerate of
“principalities” governed by “Princes” with local power and authority, loosely
member states of The Holy Roman Empire. Hess, or Hessen had long enriched its
treasury (and its Prince’s pockets) by “renting out” regiments of its world
renowned and well-trained army.
In all, Britain deployed 30,000 of
these fighting men, including a number from neighboring principalities – all
referred to as “Hessians”-- in their efforts to resolve the “Colonial problem.”
They took part in just about every battle of the war including the seminal
Siege of Yorktown, and they fought well, serving under their own officers, in
their own colorful uniforms and with their own regimental banners flying.
Those who were captured were often
put to work on farms as laborers, some even offered 50 acres of land if they
were willing to desert. After accounting for those who were killed, both in
action and from the high cost of illness and accidents, it looks as if up to
6,000 Hessians remained in America.
I was captivated some years ago by a
novel written by Howard Fast titled The
Hessian which wove a very believable tale about a young soldier who wished
to stay behind and become an American. In the end – since the war was still in
progress – he was executed by citizens. But for a sad ending, the story
remained in my mind.
Years later, as I pursued an interest in the
Amish, Mennonite and Dunker cultures who brought to Pennsylvania the unique
food and folkways of Germany, Switzerland and Alsace, I fell in love with the
people often referred to as the Pennsylvania
Dutch (it should read Deutsch,)
and the way of life which left its mark on the land and the legacy which still
lives on in the hinterland today. With each visit to those small towns and back
roads I began sketching out a rough genealogy based on such clues as the recipe
of a particular sausage, or how and why the stuffing of a goose stomach was the
center of an annual celebration, the recurring use of a certain first name and
dozens of other earmarks. And then I asked myself if I had a Germanic
background and wished to find a hiding place where I could fit in, a place
where most religious services featured a Bible written in German and where the
people shied away from all things “English”, where might I go?
I have yet to find a better answer
to the question: Where did those 6,000 Hessians go to?
Having dined recently at a table
loaded with fabulous recipes by a good friend who is a latter-day migrant from
Hess, I think I may be onto something.
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