| Rochambeau Takes a
Long Stroll And Helps Save America |
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|
Of all my
perambulations during the past fifty three years of life,
those late night patrols through the narrow dimly lit streets and
alleyways of Newport, Rhode Island have been among my favorite. Like a
well seasoned mouser I would stalk the ghosts of Americas’ past at
every turn. On one such evening a good stretch of the legs delivered
Fran
and me to the holy grail of historic licensed houses -The
White
Horse
Tavern.
There on the corner of Farewell and Marlborough Streets contained
within this simple red clapboard tabernacle was the heart and soul of
the American public house. I had finally arrived at this country’s
oldest operating tavern. The abundance of candlelight emanating from
within creates a welcoming glow that spills out to the street. My wife
and I agree to abandon forward momentum in favor of a nightcap. |
| We skirt by the
host and turn toward the main taproom. A few short
steps and I find myself entering a space that until this moment has
only been captured in my mind’s eye; that celebrated room where
generals, statesmen, commoners and literati engaged in conversations
that would decide the course of a nation. |
THE WHITE HORSE
TAVERN'S MAIN BAR
| Mark strikes the perfect figure behind this bar.
His demeanor and
countenance exude eighteenth century manners and twentieth century
savvy. After an exchange of pleasantries, background information and
single malt recommendations he shares a bit of local lore and history. |
The original structure built in 1652 officially became a
tavern in
1687, and for one hundred years it served as the meeting place for
Rhode Island’s General Assembly. Among the list of proprietors was the
notorious, but locally loved pirate William Mayes. He acquired the
establishment in 1702. But the real piracy began in 1708 when the
tavern became “the birthplace of the businessman’s lunch”. It seems
that members of the city’s governing class had a penchant for charging
their meals to the public treasury. As I listen my eyes dart around the
room chasing the shadows of men long past dancing in the light of
flickering sconces.
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AN ORIGINAL BUSINESS MAN'S LUNCH
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| The Comte de
Rochambeau began strolling the streets of Newport two
hundred plus years before my arrival. On July 11th 1780 a French naval
squadron under the command of Admiral Chevalier de Ternay landed the
general and five thousand troops on Aquidneck Island. Their arrival
garnered little fanfare. The citizenry distrusted the French and
assumed their presence was no more than a re-supply operation that
would be carried out at the expense of the local population. The doors
and windows of the city were shuttered against the intrusions of the
blue coats. |
NEWPORT
LIGHTHOUSE
BYGONE DAYS
|
DRAMATIC DINING ROOM
|
By the following evening quite a different chord was struck.
The
arrival of a welcoming officer from Washington’s staff, earlier that
day, signaled that the French presence was by design and most likely a
matter of allegiance to the American cause. Candles were dispersed to
every household, and a grand illumination heralded the arrival of the
European allies.
For
nearly a
year Rochambeau headquartered at the Vernon House,
located a short distance from the White Horse Tavern. Although he spoke
little English, his strength of character, natural charm and simple
ways ingratiated him to the judicious occupants of this New England
Port.
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A GLITTERING WELCOME
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ROMANTIC WARMTH
|
History records visits by the Marquis de Lafayette and his
Excellency
General George Washington during the French encampment. While there is
no supporting documentation, I suspect Rochambeau may have raised a
vessel or two at the White Horse. I can imagine the old general
enticing his comrades to sneak away from the social engagements and
entanglements of Newport Society in order to seek the more reasonable
comforts of that nearby tavern.
On June 10th, 1781 the Commander of the French Expeditionary Forces
concluded his local promenades. His infantry, artillery and hussars
began a three month long, five hundred and fifty mile march that
carried them from Rhode Island to Virginia. Rochambeau and Washington
maneuvered their armies with such brilliance that Sir Henry Clinton,
commander of the British forces in New York, was convinced that he was
the focus of their malicious intent. This costly misread of the
unfolding campaign caused Clinton to remain in New York while his
counterpart in Yorktown, Virginia pleaded for relief and reinforcements
that would never arrive.
On October 19th, 1781 Charles Lord
Cornwallis placed his sword in the
hands of his second-in-command, Charles O’Hara with orders that he
surrender it and the army to the Comte de Rochambeau. The ever gracious
Frenchman further honored the Franco-American alliance by deferring the
surrender to General Washington. George responded to the English snub
of protocol by deferring the British capitulation to his
second-in-command, Major General Benjamin Lincoln. The events of this
day would ultimately dispel any notion that Americans would be
subservient to king or queen.
Rochambeau departed the colonies on the 8th of January 1783. Many of
his countrymen remained behind to enjoy the fruits of revolution and
liberty. From Annapolis to Newport they settled into peaceful lives as
citizens of the new republic, and assuming they adopted the traditions
and habits of colonial life, a visit to a tavern would certainly be
part of ones daily constitutional. So as I sip my single malt, warmed
by the kinship and ambiance of the White Horse, I keep a watchful eye
for the spirit of Rochambeau and those brothers-in-arms that walked
side by side in order to safeguard a nation. |
A NIGHT CAP
EXTRAORDINAIRE
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