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| The Advice of Jonathan Keny Jr. to his children was published soon after the Ensign’s death in 1756. |
The imagery that stirs the loudest in the Ken Burns
documentary, The Civil War is that of the letter from Sullivan Ballou to his
wife Sarah. In his now-famous letter to his wife, Ballou endeavored to express
the emotions he was feeling: worry, fear, guilt, sadness and, most importantly,
the pull between his love for her and his sense of duty to the country. And
that letter, now famous, is simply one in thousands upon thousands of letters
home from our men and women in the military that express love, fear and the
emotions tied to war.
Letters home have always served as a reminder of the costs
associated with great sacrifice. In fact, many of these letters became wartime
propaganda, held up as an example of the glory of service to one’s country. In
the effort to promote the Second World War, thousands of posters were created
to “sell messages.” Federal agencies printed a downpour of brightly colored
posters. Labor unions and factory owners printed up their own versions aimed at
turning defense workers into “production soldiers.” At the end of the day it is
emotion that moves the spirit to action.
And, while we may think propaganda is a modern invention, it is in fact an
ancient art. If the letter home from Sullivan Ballou stands out, it is because
the emotions are real, deep, and intensely personal.
More than 100 years earlier the French and Indian War was
the North American theater of the worldwide Seven Years' War. The war, fought
between the colonies of British America and New France, with both sides
supported by military units from their parent countries of Great Britain and France,
as well as Native allies. As the war began, the French North American colonies
had a population of roughly 60,000 compared to 2 million in the English North
American colonies. The outnumbered French particularly depended on the Indians.
Long in conflict, the two nations declared war on each other in 1756,
escalating the war from a regional affair into an international conflict. This
was the war that saw the expulsions of the Acadians from the Annapolis Basin in
Nova Scotia and redrew the boundaries of two nations.
To bolster troops brought from England, the Crown turned to
the colonists as support for the war efforts. As early as 1744, Governor
William Shirley devised a plan to take Louisburg. Several local militiamen were
pressed into service for the King. Throughout the war, many Stoughton men took
part in hostilities and we have many examples of how the war changed the lives
right here in our own community. Guiding by example, the Reverend Samuel
Dunbar, was a staunch supporter of the Crown. Dunbar was of the highest moral
character and most esteemed by the entire community, so when the King of
England placed the call of duty in 1755, Dunbar, as chaplain, accompanied
Richard Gridley and Paul Revere (then 21) to fight against the French at Crown
Point.
Crown Point was a critical and strategic battleground for
the war between the two nations. During the 17th Century, both France and Great
Britain laid claim to the Champlain Valley: the French by virtue of the voyages
of Verrazano, Cartier, and Champlain; the British based on those of the Cabots
in 1497 and 1498. It would be Crown
Point that would be the final soil on which thirteen men from Stoughton would
fall in service to the Crown.
William Johnson was placed in command of a force of 3,500
Provincial troops from New England, New York, and New Jersey, for the
expedition against Fort St. Frédéric. While the Provincial troops prevailed,
they did not press their advantage.
In response, the French began construction in October 1755
of Carillon (later named Fort Ticonderoga) to serve as a buffer between the
British position at Lake George and Fort St. Frédéric. During this period of
the conflict, more than thirty young men from what was then Stoughton – but
largely now Canton – fought in the war.
Col. Samuel Miller, whose military district embraced the
town of Stoughton, says that in 1755 the town had three hundred and twenty
enlisted soldiers; that the stock of ammunition consisted only of four
half-barrels of powder, and lead and flints accordingly, which was but half of
what the town should possess. The selectmen accordingly ordered a tax of £40 to
be assessed to make good the deficiency.
The story of some of the Stoughton men who enlisted in his
Majesty's service in the expedition to Crown Point is wrought with sickness,
death and difficult journeys home.
Elijah Esty, Nathaniel Clark, Thomas Billings, John Wadsworth, William
Patten, James Bailey, Michael Woodcock, and James, son of Joseph Everett, were
all taken sick in camp at Lake George. Some of them remained for weeks in the
hospital at Albany, but for each of them a horse was purchased by their friends,
and some one from Stoughton went out and brought them home. Joseph Tucker, a
minor, was brought home by his brother Uriah. John Redman took a wagon to go
from Lake George to Albany; and for some reason the driver put him out of the
vehicle in the wilderness, where, he affirms, he must have perished had not
Sargent Ralph Houghton, of Milton, happened to pass that way, who took pity on
him, hired another wagon to carry him to Albany, and also lent him money to buy
such things as were necessary. Daniel Talbot and his seventeen-year-old son
Amaziah both engaged in the Crown Point expedition. The son was taken sick at
Half Moon, and the father hired a horse to bring them home; the son died
en-route, and the father returned home alone.
Yet, it is the letter that we now have in our ancient
Stoughton document tome that has stood the test of time. Few know of its
existence and merely a handful of historians have spent any time with this
letter. It was written in that part of Stoughton that is now Canton. So strong
were the words, that it was published as a broadside, likely by the English
colonial government as a way to build support for the campaign against the
French. The letter was written by Jonathan Keny just before the young man left
for Albany, New York for Crown Point. Historical accounts of the young ensign
paint a picture of a devoted family man and member of the Church of England who
grew up in the early 1700’s in what is now Ponkapoag. Around 1750, Keny (also
spelled as Kenney) married Sarah Redman, the daughter of Robert Redman, one of
the earliest settlers in this area.
In the dark of an early spring night, Keny paced the floors
of his small house near Potash Meadows and Aunt Katy’s Brook. Holding his two
small children - his boy, Jonathan just barely two years old, and his daughter,
Cloe, age four. Keny’s wife had died two years earlier, perhaps after the birthing
of their son. And so, Keny knew that departing for war meant that he might
never look upon their sweet faces again.
The letter, written on April 16, 1756 under seal, is
religious, poignant, and heart wrenching when you consider that Keny would die
within months of the writing. “Dear children, Since God by his all-wise
providence, about sixteen months ago, remove your kind and tender mother from
you by death, and as I am called by Providence to go into service of my King
and country, and not knowing whether ever I shall return to you again, I charge
and beseech you to mind the One Thing needful, to remember your Creator in the
days of your youth, to love one another, to mind religion while you are young,
to be constant in secret prayer, for God loves to hear young children come to
him, and though you have no father or mother he will be better to you than the
most affectionate parents can possibly be… I charge you to beware of bad
company… to be obedient, and often read your books…when you come to a sick bed,
and a dying hour, to look back on a life well spent.”
The letter is quite long, and ends with the premonition of Keny’s
death “My dear children, I hope better things of you, and things that accompany
salvation, and I charge and advise you once more to observe this council and
advice; and though you may never see me again in this world, I entreat you to
prepare to meet me in heaven where I hope to rest after this frail life is
ended.” Keny died in a hospital at
Albany within nine months of writing the letter. Delivered to his small
children, the letter contained a gold ring that he had placed on his wife’s
finger six years earlier.
The children were placed in the care of their grandparents,
Robert and Mary Redman, who raised them as their own. In 1757, Robert Redman executed a will in
which he provided for his grandchildren, leaving 6 pounds 13 shillings and 4
pence to Jonathan and 4 pounds and a good cow to Cloe when she arrived at the
age of twenty-one. The letter was
published soon after his death and one of only two known copies survive in the
collection of the Canton Historical Society.
