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Bayonets at a Birthday Party: How Williamsburg First Celebrated George Washington’s Birthday

When you picture an “elegant” celebration in eighteenth-century Williamsburg, you might imagine fine clothing, hearty food and drink, and entertainment of music and dancing.

But what about cannons?

When the people of Williamsburg first publicly celebrated the birthday of Continental Army Commander-in-Chief George Washington in February 1779, the Virginia Gazette reported, they assembled at the Raleigh Tavern for a “very elegant entertainment.” That was the only detail the newspaper included to describe the event. But newspaper accounts don’t always tell the full story.

Virginia Gazette (Dixon and Nicolson), Feb. 26, 1779, p. 3.

Another source describes the same event in a very different way. It comes from the diary of David Meade Randolph, a member of the wealthy Virginia Randolph family. In 1779, Randolph was a student at William & Mary and a recent veteran of the Revolutionary War.1 He kept a diary which described that evening in depth. Published decades later, his story is of an unruly, unforgettable evening during the American Revolution.2

Rowdy at the Raleigh

When Williamsburg celebrated Washington’s birthday at the Raleigh Tavern in 1779, it was not the first event of its kind. That year in Massachusetts, Americans celebrated Washington’s birthday on February 11, the day it was recorded in the Julian Calendar (which American colonists used when Washington was born).3 The Williamsburg celebration occurred on February 22, the corresponding day on the Gregorian Calendar, which Americans generally recognize as Washington’s birthday today. That made the people of Williamsburg the first to publicly celebrate Washington’s birthday on the correct day.

According to Randolph’s account, the idea of celebrating the general’s birthday came from a group of students from the College of William and Mary. Perhaps looking for an excuse for a party, they “prepared a subscription paper for celebrating Washington’s birth night.” They planned to collect signatures from the people of Williamsburg committing to help pay for the event. They first asked Governor Patrick Henry, no doubt hoping that the signature of the city’s most powerful resident would convince others to sign on.

You want me to sign what?

But to the students’ surprise, Henry “refused his signature!” He explained that he would not consider “any kind of rejoicing at a time when our country was engaged in war, with such gloomy prospects.” Though the Patriots’ odds were starting to improve, now that France had joined the rebels, the war was still in a desperate state. Henry felt there was no time for celebration. Several other prominent Williamsburg leaders followed his lead and refused to sign on. These included Dudley Digges, who was a member of the colony’s powerful Council and a captain in the York County militia. More than anyone else, Digges would turn that night’s celebration into a confrontation.

Every Party Needs a Cannon

Despite these refusals, planners continued. The Raleigh Tavern hosted a ball that night in honor of Washington’s birthday. The scene was likely very similar to many balls that Washington himself had once attended at the Raleigh: food, alcohol, dancing, and rigid social expectations. As the most important man who could be convinced to attend, a local militia colonel named James Innes presided over the affair. Once the celebration got underway, someone decided “to enliven the occasion” with some cannon fire. Innes agreed and led a group to retrieve two cannons from a nearby carpenter’s shop.4

But as this group returned to the tavern with the cannons, Captain Digges spotted them across the street. He sent a lieutenant and a group of soldiers to the Raleigh, “demanding possession of the cannon.” After some negotiations, and after drinking some punch, their commander threatened “to take away the pieces, by force, if they were not surrendered peaceably.” The celebrants refused to relinquish the cannons, and Digges’s soldiers left.

Bluster and Bravado

Word of this dispute made its way back to Governor Henry. According to Randolph’s account, Henry refused to act. He “referred Captain Digges to his own judgment.” Digges’s judgment led him to confrontation. He returned with sixty men and “demanded the cannon at the point of his bayonets!” Colonel Innes shook his cane at Digges. He “swore that he would cane him, if he did not depart instantly with his men!”

In the eighteenth century, gentlemen of equal status settled affairs of honor through duels. But a gentleman might attack a social inferior with a cane. This print depicts Congressman Roger Griswold attacking Congressman Matthew Lyon with a cane in the House of Representatives in 1798. Courtesy of the Library of Congress. Congressional Pugilists” etching (Philadelphia, 1798). Courtesy of the Library of Congress.

It had become an affair of honor. Digges threatened to attack. Innes ordered the cannon to be loaded. He dared Digges’s men to fire their weapons.

Luckily for all involved, the confrontation ended there. Digges retreated. Randolph’s account of the confrontation ends vaguely: “the evening closed with great joy.” Yet the next day, Randolph wrote, Innes and Digges met again in court. At one point, Innes renewed his threat against Digges: “it made no difference whether Captain Digges wore a red coat, or a black coat, he would cane him!” The case was eventually dismissed, and Innes left the courtroom in triumph.

Remembering Washington’s Birthday

Williamsburg was a small town, where gossip spread quickly. The Patriot printers of the Virginia Gazette must have known exactly what happened at the Raleigh Tavern. They might have witnessed it. But no details appeared in their pages. They may have worried that it reflected poorly on the cause. Perhaps they felt that the British could take advantage of public reports of a rift among Virginia officers. Whatever the reason, a detailed account of these events did not appear publicly. Indeed, the only known description is in David Meade Randolph’s diary entry.

David Meade Randolph portrait, 1807. Courtesy of the National Gallery of Art.

Since it is a single source, this account is unlikely to tell the entire story. We would have a more complete account if witnesses like Henry, Innes, or Digges wrote down their recollections. It would be fascinating, as well, to hear the perspective of the enslaved people working at the Raleigh Tavern, who witnessed this violent event unfold around their workplace and home. Unfortunately, we are left with a single viewpoint on a complicated event.

In subsequent years, celebrating George Washington’s birthday has become less controversial. In 1885, Washington’s birthday became a U.S. federal holiday, and is still celebrated. Today, though, when we recognize Washington’s birth, we usually leave our bayonets at home.

[1] See the biographical note in “David M. Randolph to Thomas Jefferson, 17 October 1815,” Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Jefferson/03-09-02-0076.

[2] This account was first published in Southern Literary Messenger 1 (1835): 340, link. This source is used throughout this article. All uncited quotation originate in this source.

[3] “Boston, February 18,” Continental Journal, Feb. 18, 1779. See J. L. Bell, “Washington’s Birthday Observed in Milton,” Boston 1775, Feb. 18, 2013.

[4] Randolph’s account refers to “two pieces at the shop of Mr. Moody that had lately been mounted.” This is a reference to Philip Moody, who ran a Williamsburg carpenter shop at the time. See Noel Poirier, “The Williamsburg Public Armory: A Historical Study. Block 10 Building 22F,” Colonial Williamsburg Digital Library (2004).