Dear Reader, if you have not yet read last week’s essay on Henry Knox’s adventure, click here to read Mary Turley’s full account.

The Aftermath of Knox’s Noble Train

ollowing Henry Knox’s prodigious feat in January 1776 of moving 60 plus abandoned cannon for the patriot cause over 400 miles of treacherous terrain for the relief of Boston, several notable characters commented on the mission’s success. One such was British military commander, General William Howe. Upon waking one day, Howe found Dorchester Heights around Boston bristling with patriot cannon, their muzzles bearing down on his position, their threat having materialized overnight. He is said to have exclaimed, “My God, these fellows have done more work in one night than I could make my army do in three months.”

General William Howe (1729-1814)

The chief British engineering officer, Archibald Robertson, calculated that to have carried everything into place as the rebels had—“a most astonishing night’s work”—must have required at least 15,000 to 20,000 men. The true number was closer to 3,000.

Major Archibald Robertson (1745-1813)

Later that spring, one of the London papers would carry portions of a letter attributed to an unnamed “officer of distinction” at Boston who summed it up as:

“They [the fortifications] were all raised during the night, with an expedition equal to that of the genie belonging to Aladdin’s wonderful lamp. From these hills they command the whole town, so that we must drive them from their post, or desert the place.”

The British evacuated Boston on March 17, 1776 without a fight.

We bring you these sober reminders in the duty of thanksgiving for all good gifts bestowed from above during this 250th year anniversary of the founding of America. These acts of gratitude to Almighty God are required—the recounting of the many instances of God’s Mighty Hand in the establishment our great nation. Prayer, both national and individual, bathed this struggle, and the resultant miracles attendant upon it were due entirely to this great reliance upon the Divine Disposer of all things.

Give ear, O my people, to my teaching;
incline your ears to the words of my mouth!
I will open my mouth in a parable;
I will utter dark sayings from of old,
things that we have heard and known,
that our fathers have told us.
We will not hide them from their children,
but tell to the coming generation
the glorious deeds of the LORD, and his might,
and the wonders that he has done.
—Psalm 78:1-4

Image Credits: 1 General William Howe (wikipedia.org) 2 Major Archibald Robertson (wikipedia.org) 3 Newspaper (Babel.HathiTrust.org)

“Give instruction to a wise man, and he will be still wiser; teach a righteous man, and he will increase in learning.”
—Proverbs 9:9

Henry Knox and
the Guns of Fort Ticonderoga,
January 24, 1776

t is not hyperbole to say that America has produced some of the most singularly audacious individuals in the history of the world. And they, in turn, were essential in creating America, the greatest experiment in liberty ever attempted, with the greatest passion for justice ever embodied in a people.

Without these rugged individuals with their inexhaustible faith, and self-made genius, the Declaration of Independence and its world-altering impact would have remained a political manifesto with no collective will behind it. By their blood and love, these brave founding Americans ensured the future of our nation, and in the process defined what it meant to embody the American spirit.

One such American was a common Boston bookseller, Mr. Henry Knox. This is the story of only one of many pivotal contributions he made to the American cause, achieved 250 years ago this week.

Henry Knox (1750-1806)

After the climactic clashes in April 1775 between American militia and the British Army at Lexington and Concord, tensions were high. A stalemate ensued—both politically and militarily. The Battle of Bunker Hill followed but did little to change the landscape other than to cement the gravity of the situation, and underscore that this was now a fight for independence, not just a colonial misunderstanding. General Washington immediately laid siege to the British inside of Boston in April 1775, with a Continental Army comprised of a most irregular and ill-supplied collection of volunteers from the various colonies.

The besieging colonists had plenty of muskets and did not lack enthusiasm, but they were without heavy artillery like cannons, which were essential for bombarding the in-town fortifications, or dominating the high ground. Most of their powder and shot were homemade, and they had no foundries to produce big guns domestically. The British, on the other hand, had naval support in Boston Harbor and professional artillery, giving them the edge in the prolonged standoff that resulted. The siege of Boston continued thus for nine months, into January of 1776, with every council of war that Washington held ending in agreement that an all-out attack would be disastrous.

During this time, Washington put increasing trust in two young, self-made New Englanders: Nathanael Greene, a Rhode Island blacksmith, and his close friend and bookseller, Henry Knox.

Advertisement for Henry Knox’s London Book Store in Boston

Six feet tall and weighing about 250 pounds, Henry Knox was hard not to notice. He was gregarious, jovial, quick of mind, highly energetic, and all of twenty-five years old. Like his friend, General Nathanael Greene, he was a voracious reader and almost entirely self-educated. After a hard upbringing, Knox had, at the age of twenty-one, founded the London Book Store in Boston, fostering it into a “fashionable morning lounge,” which attracted the city’s intelligentsia, including notables such as John Adams. When Boston came under siege, Knox’s bookshop was looted by the British, and Knox fled with his wife Lucy to Washington’s army.

By the end of 1775, Knox was enjoying the distinguished rank of colonel in Washington’s newly-formed artillery regiment. Such a regiment did not, in fact, actually exist as there was no artillery for the patriots to employ. But by appointing the ingenious Knox as its head, Washington doubtless hoped for a remedy to this crippling disadvantage.

Fort Ticonderoga on Lake Champlain

Knox’s bright mind soon supplied it. Fort Ticonderoga, on Lake Champlain in northern New York, had been captured by the patriots in early 1775, but the fort and its captured artillery were soon after abandoned. Knox told Washington he was confident the precious guns could be retrieved and hauled overland and used to besiege Boston, despite the inclement weather and grueling distance presented. Washington agreed to his plan at once, and put the young officer in charge of the expedition. Knox left to accomplish his proposed feat on November 16, 1775, accompanied by only a few aides and his nineteen-year-old brother, William, possessing the authority to spend as much as $1,000 on logistics.

A map showing what is now commemorated as the Henry Knox Trail, outlining the majority of his route

They went to New York City first, and there Henry Knox put his autodidactic brilliance to work in arranging for the materials and supplies needed, and then headed to Fort Ticonderoga itself, making the rigorous progress of forty miles a day at times.

The first snow of the year fell on November 21, and in the days to follow it was obvious winter had come to stay, with winds as bitter as January and still more snow. The distress within besieged Boston grew extreme, as did the plight of the patriot besiegers: desertions surged, smallpox killed hundreds, and all of Washington’s efforts and those of his senior officers were concentrated on trying to hold the army together. If Knox failed to accomplish this mission—an undertaking so enormous, so fraught with certain difficulties, that many thought it impossible—then devastation appeared to be the only possible outcome for the American cause.

On December 5, 1775 Colonel Knox arrived at the fort and took inventory of the abandoned artillery pieces. The guns Knox had come for were mostly French mortars, some 12- and 18-pound cannon (that is, guns that fired cannonballs of 12 and 18 pounds, respectively), and one giant brass 24-pounder. Not all were in usable condition. After looking them over, Knox selected 58 mortars and cannon. Three of the mortars weighed a ton each and the 24-pound cannon, more than 5,000 pounds. The whole lot was believed to weigh not less than 120,000 pounds.

Knox and his crew employing oxen to pull the cannons through the snowy mountains

The plan was to transport the guns by boat down Lake George, which was not yet completely frozen over. At the lake’s southern end would begin the long haul overland, south as far as Albany before turning east toward Boston across the Berkshire Mountains. The distance to be covered was nearly 300 miles. Knox planned to drag the guns on giant sleds and was counting on snow. But thus far only a light dusting covered the ground. With the help of local soldiers and hired men, he set immediately to work. Just moving the guns from the fort to the boat landing proved a tremendous task. The passage down Lake George alone, not quite forty miles, took eight days.

The Champlain Valley

Three boats carrying the cargo of fifty-eight guns set sail on December 9. Judging from Knox’s hurried, all-but-illegible diary entries, their first hour on the lake appears to have been the only hour of the entire trek that did not bring “the utmost difficulty.” One of the boats, a scow, struck a rock and sank, though close enough to shore to be bailed out, patched up, and set afloat again. Knox recorded days of heavy rowing against unrelenting headwinds—four hours of “rowing exceeding hard” one day, six hours of “excessive hard rowing” on another. At other times, they had to cut through ice to make a path for the boats.

On his journey up to Ticonderoga, Knox had arranged for heavy sleds or sledges to be rounded up or built, forty-two in all, and to be on hand at the southern end of Lake George, about thirty-five miles south of Ticonderoga. Now ashore, with the sleds and eighty yoke of oxen, he was ready to push on. In a letter to his wife, Lucy Knox, he now assured her the most difficult part was over, and speculated, “We shall cut no small figure through the country with our cannon.” But then there came no snow. Instead, a “cruel thaw” set in, halting progress for several days. The route south to Albany required four crossings of the Hudson. With the weather being so mild, the ice on the river was too thin, and the heavy caravan could only stand idly by at Fort George and wait for a change. When the change came, it was a blizzard. Three feet of snow fell, beginning Christmas Day. Determined to go ahead on his own to Albany in order to prepare the way, Knox nearly froze to death struggling through the snow on foot, until finding horses and a sleigh to take him the rest of the route.

One of many markers along Knox’s route (this one in West Ghent, NY), commemorating the incredible feat

Eventually, his “precious convoy” pushed off from Fort George. “Our cavalcade was quite imposing,” remembered young John Becker, who at age twelve had accompanied his father, one of the drivers on the expedition. They proceeded laboriously in the heavy snow, passing through the village of Saratoga, then on to Albany, where Knox had been busy cutting holes in the frozen Hudson in order to strengthen the ice—the idea was that water coming up through the holes would spread over the surface of the ice and freeze, thus gradually thickening the ice. He had read of it in a book.

The Hudson River, frozen over

For several hours it appeared that the theory had worked perfectly. Indeed, nearly a dozen sleds crossed without mishap. But then, suddenly, one of the largest cannons, an 18-pounder, broke through and sank, leaving a hole in the ice fourteen feet in diameter. Undaunted, Knox at once set about retrieving the cannon from the bottom of the river, losing a full day in the effort, but at last succeeding, as he wrote, “owing to the assistance of the good people of Albany.”

On January 9, as the expedition pushed on from the eastern shore of the Hudson, they still had more than a hundred miles to go. Snow in the Berkshires lay thick, exactly as needed, but the mountains—steep and dissected by deep, narrow valleys—posed a challenge as formidable as any. Knox, with no prior experience in such terrain, wrote of climbing peaks “from which we might almost have seen all the kingdoms of the earth. . . . It appeared to me almost a miracle that people with heavy loads should be able to get up and down such hills.” To slow the descent of the laden sleds down slopes as steep as a roof, check lines were anchored to trees. Brush and drag chains were shoved beneath the runners. When some of his teamsters, fearful of the risks, refused to go any further, Knox spent three hours arguing and pleading until finally they agreed to head on.

News of the advancing procession raced ahead of them and, as Knox had imagined, people began turning out along the route to see for themselves the procession of the guns from Ticonderoga. “We found that very few, even among the oldest inhabitants, had ever seen a cannon,” twelve-year-old John Becker later recalled. “We were the great gainers by this curiosity, for while they were employed in remarking upon our guns, we were, with equal pleasure, discussing the qualities of their cider and whiskey. These were generously brought out in great profusion.”

At Springfield, to quicken the pace, Knox changed from oxen to horses pulling the sleighs, and on the final leg of the journey the number of onlookers grew by the day. The final halt came at last about twenty miles west of Boston at Framingham where the guns were unloaded, awaiting orders. Knox, in the meantime, sped on to Cambridge to report to Washington—by God’s grace he had done it. His “noble train” had arrived intact. Not a gun had been lost. The siege of Boston was broken shortly thereafter, the juggernaut of British occupation fleeing to safety in Canada.

The British evacuating Boston—the event is celebrated locally as Evacuation Day to this day

Hundreds of men had taken part in the endeavor of procuring the guns from Fort Ticonderoga, and their labors and resilience had been exceptional. But it was the daring and determination of Henry Knox that had counted above all. In the words of historian David McCullough: “The twenty-five-year-old Boston bookseller had proven himself a leader of remarkable ability, a man not only of enterprising ideas, but with the staying power to carry them out.”

He would retain his position as chief of artillery under General Washington—this time with the fire-power to back it. Knox would go on to fight through the entirety of the War for Independence and, after independence was secure, would go on to serve as President Washington’s Secretary of War during the former’s first term. But this was all in the future—what cemented Knox as an American hero was his daring resourcefulness in the early days of the fight, before our independence had even been proclaimed. Such risks and such devotion are why, by God’s great lovingkindness, our dear country came into being at all. It is unsurprising that a man of books had the vision to perceive what monumental times he was in, and lend his hand accordingly, as he wrote his wife, “We are fighting for our country, for posterity perhaps. On the success of this campaign the happiness or misery of millions may depend.”

Knox and his crew arrive in camp, having successfully brought all the cannon they had set out to retrieve

Image Credits: 1 Henry Knox (wikipedia.org) 2 London Book Store (wikipedia.org) 3 Fort Ticonderoga (wikipedia.org) 4 Route (wikipedia.org) 5 Trekking through the mountains (wikipedia.org) 6 Champlain Valley (wikipedia.org) 7 Henry Knox Trail marker (wikipedia.org) 8 Hudson River frozen (wikipedia.org) 9 The Evacuation of Boston (wikipedia.org) 10 Cannon arrive in camp (wikipedia.org)

“By the breath of God ice is given, and the broad waters are frozen fast. He loads the thick cloud with moisture; the clouds scatter His lightning. They turn around and around by His guidance, to accomplish all that He commands them, on the face of the habitable world. Whether for correction or for His land or for love, He causes it to happen.” —Job 37: 10-13

Robert F. Scott’s Expedition Reaches the South Pole, January 17, 1912

he continent of Antarctica lived in our imaginations long before any report of her was made in recorded history. The Greeks of the ancient world, knowing of the existence of an Arctic, theorized of a corresponding Antarctic for the bottom of our planet. Maps from the Renaissance show the assumed presence of a great southern land mass “as yet undiscovered”. The Polynesian cultures encountered by European explorers, like James Cooke, told them of its great, uninhabitable expanse. With each passing century fascination grew, and soon the North and South Poles became the chief objects of conquest during a time now called the Heroic Age of Exploration. It was a time when those Christian countries, ever more intent on broadening their knowledge of God’s created world, sent out their sons to map its borders, convert its peoples, and document its scientific wonders.

A fragment of the Piri Reis map which dates back to 1513 and which some scholars believe depicts Antarctica

It can be hard for many of us to imagine the spirit that drove countless men from their comfortable homes to risk life and limb exploring what still remain the most inhospitable portions of our globe. Indeed, without immersing ourselves in the mindset of the time through means of books, we might even be mislead to minimize such great strivings as mere exercises in hubris. So much of our upbringing nowadays, our soft culture, and our system of immediate incentives, all work to dull us to that soul-dwelling drive which finds motivation and reward in that which is rigorous and unknown. But yet it remains, not much over a century ago, God and country was more than enough to spur many heroic men to achieve unfathomable feats by raw grit and endurance. Their names are familiar to some of us: Amundsen, Perry, Ross, Scott, to name a few.

L-R: Ernest Henry Shackleton, Captain Robert Falcon Scott and Dr. Edward Adrian Wilson on the British National Antarctic Expedition (Discovery Expedition), November 2, 1902

It was during this era that Teddy Roosevelt was preaching his doctrine of “the strenuous life”, that billionaires stepped aside on the decks of the Titanic and gave their seats up to the helpless so that chivalry might prevail. And when Ernest Shackleton could actually count on applicants to respond to his advertisement marketing his impending “hazardous journey.” Remarkable individuals were numerous in this remarkable age.

A photograph from 1913: The Three Polar Stars: Roald Amundsen (1872-1928), Ernest Henry Shackleton (1874-1922) and Robert Edwin Peary (1856-1920)

Geographical Societies sprung up to fund and organize such exploratory endeavors, and much of their success came from the support of ordinary men and women who considered the missions worthy of their patronage. By the turn of the 20th century, the frontier of the uncharted world had grown ever more remote and uninhabited, until there was, in the minds of many, only the Poles left to claim.

The first base on Antarctica of Carstens Borchgrevink’s Southern Cross Expedition of 1899. The hut still stands and is located on Cape Adare, the cape where, in 1895, Borchgrevnik participated in the first documented landing on Antarctica.

In 1909 the thrill of one such achievement rocked the world when the dogged American explorer, Robert Peary, shot off his sparsely worded telegraph from the North: “Stars and Stripes nailed to the pole. PEARY.” There went one frontier; only one more left to claim.

Peary’s team celebrating triumphantly at the North Pole

And so it fell to Captain Robert Falcon Scott, a seasoned Royal Navy officer who had already ventured far south on the Discovery expedition of 1901–1904, to lead Britain’s effort to conquer the last geographical prize. Aboard the whaling ship Terra Nova, Scott and his men departed England in June 1910, driven by scientific curiosity as much as national glory.

Portrait and signature of Robert Falcon Scott (1868-1912)

Upon reaching Antarctica, Scott learned he had a rival: the Norwegian explorer Roald Amundsen, who had secretly redirected his own expedition southward after learning about Peary claiming the North Pole. Amundsen, a veteran polar explorer himself, relied on dogs, skis, and meticulous food depots, and he and four companions successfully reached the geographic South Pole before Scott on December 14, 1911.

The routes of the racing explorers and their expeditions: Scott (in green) and Amundsen (in red)

The Norwegians planted their flag and left behind a polite note for Scott to find, then started on their return trip of forty days.

Meanwhile, the party of five which Scott chose to accompany him overland on his eight-hundred-mile journey from the Terra Nova to the South Pole, had been chosen for their scientific prowess, rather than physical strength. It comprised Scott himself, Dr. Edward Wilson, Captain Lawrence Oates, Lieutenant Henry Bowers, and only one sailor, a Petty Officer Edgar Evans. Evans was chosen to accompany them at the very last minute, and as a result, provisions sufficient for only the original four men were taken along.

The five men who made up the Scott / Terra Nova Expedition, at the South Pole

Scott’s brave party went towards their goal through brutal conditions that ruined their sled motors and killed their pack ponies, forcing the men to haul their sledges themselves with harnesses around their shoulders. They were short of food before they had even reached the Pole, scurvy was further weakening them, and their Royal Navy-issued woolen accoutrements were insufficient to withstand the cold—in contrast, the Norwegians had adopted Inuit forms of apparel, liberally equipping themselves in heavy furs and waterproof seal skins. Despite all such strategic shortcomings and incidental disadvantages, Scott pressed on.

Roald Amundsen modeling the clothing and gear that gave his expedition such great success; “Not an outfit that cut a dash by its appearance, but it was warm and strong”

And then, on January 17, 1912, they finally reached their goal—the South Pole! But no, this is not a story where the glorious payoff exceeds the tribulations endured to reach it. For upon arriving, Scott’s exhausted party found Amundsen’s tent and the Norwegian flag awaiting them at the exact spot, evidence that they had been preceded by thirty-four days.

Roald Amundsen and Helmer Hanssen make observations at the South Pole, having arrived on December 14 and staying for several days

In much misery, standing on a frozen plain of nothingness, without even the balm of having first staked it for England, Scott wrote in his diary: “Great God! This is an awful place and terrible enough for us to have laboured to it without the reward of priority.”

Members of the dejected Terra Nova exploration team explore Roald Amundsen’s tent at the South Pole on January 18, 1912—L-R: Scott, Oates, Wilson, Evans (Bowers behind the camera)

Disheartened but resolute, the five men began the long return, but it was predictably disastrous. Touchingly they still prioritized the photographs, fossils and thirty-five pounds’ worth of geological specimens they had accumulated, on the journey back.

The entire Terra Nova exploration team at the camp the Norwegians left behind at the South Pole

Like so many tragedies, the Scott Expedition would become famous, not for being second best, but for the noble way in which it ended: discouraging, miserable and lonely though it was, these were men who knew how to die well. Even in the vast secrecy of a frozen continent, they knew their God was with them, and they left a worthy record as a result.

Scott and his men on their return trip

The seaman Evans perished first on February 17, succumbing to a concussion. Oates, crippled by frostbite, sacrificed himself on March 16 or 17, walking into a blizzard with the immortal words, “I am just going outside and may be some time.” The remaining three—Scott, Wilson, and Bowers—were later trapped by relentless blizzards in their tent, a tragic eleven miles short of their next supply depot.

Lawrence Oates (1880-1912)

One of the camps of the Terra Nova expedition

Knowing death by malnutrition and exposure was imminent, Robert Falcon Scott—captain, husband, father and Christian—chose to write a most remarkable “message to the public.” In it he did not wallow in self-pity or aggrandize the great scientific work he had achieved on this venture. Instead he meticulously enumerated the details of the journey and immortalized his fellows, the men who had labored, suffered disappointment, and eventually died beside him, regarding themselves as “part of the great scheme of the Almighty.” And most heart-rending of all, he begged for their families to be looked after.

Scott journaled faithfully on his expeditions, not the least of which was his last

To the general public, Scott wrote:

“We are weak, writing is difficult, but for my own sake I do not regret this journey, which has shown that Englishmen can endure hardships, help one another, and meet death with as great a fortitude as ever in the past. We took risks, we knew we took them; things have come out against us, and therefore we have no cause for complaint, but bow to the will of Providence, determined still to do our best to the last. But if we have been willing to give our lives to this enterprise, which is for the honour of our country, I appeal to our countrymen to see that those who depend on us are properly cared for. Had we lived, I should have had a tale to tell of the hardihood, endurance, and courage of my companions which would have stirred the heart of every Englishman. These rough notes and our dead bodies must tell the tale, but surely, surely, a great rich country like ours will see that those who are dependent on us are properly provided for.”

Scott

Their bodies, journals, and photographs were discovered eight months later by a search party, their effects returned to their families, and their last words enshrined in history. His wife, the unwavering Kathleen Scott, raised their son Peter to revere his father and he followed him into the Navy. Kathleen’s work as a remarkable sculptress can be seen etched into marble across England, her hand having helped craft memorials to her husband and to those 880,000 British men who similarly sacrificed their lives for their country during the Great War.

The location where the bodies of the last three members of the expedition were found—their personal effects were removed, their tent lowered over them,
and this memorial erected

Although Amundsen claimed the final prize of polar conquest, Scott’s tragic striving captured the world’s imagination, embodying the unyielding spirit of an age that feared death far less than the waste of a stagnant life.

The frozen, barren, unforgiving wasteland, Antarctica

Image Credits: 1 Piri Reis map (wikipedia.org) 2 Shackleton, Scott, Wilson (wikipedia.org) 3 “The Three Polar Stars” (wikipedia.org) 4 Southern Cross camp, 1899 (wikipedia.org) 5 Peary’s expedition at the North Pole (wikipedia.org) 6 Robert Falcon Scott (wikipedia.org) 7 Scott / Amundsen routes (wikipedia.org) 8 Scott team at South Pole (wikipedia.org) 9 Amundsen in gear (wikipedia.org) 10 Norwegian team making observations (wikipedia.org) 11 Exploring Amundsen’s camp (wikipedia.org) 12 The Scott team (wikipedia.org) 13 Scott’s team on the return (wikipedia.org) 14 Lawrence Oates (wikipedia.org) 15 Terra Nova team camp (wikipedia.org) 16 Scott journaling (wikipedia.org) 17 Scott (wikipedia.org) 18 Grave / Memorial (wikipedia.org) 19 Antarctica (wikipedia.org)

“Remember the word that I said to you, ‘A slave is not greater than his master.’ If they persecuted Me, they will persecute you as well; if they followed My word, they will follow yours also.” —John 15:20

The Martyrdom of St. Polyeuctus, January 10, AD 259

hroughout the history of the Roman Empire, devout Christians can be found among the ranks of its elite military. They served despite tensions of conscience arising from the army’s integral polytheistic practices, a tradition of pagan sacrifices, and association with unjust violence, all being in conflict with Christian morality.

We recall the Biblical accounts which highlight those positive portrayals of Roman centurions, such as the one in Capernaum whose profound faith prompted Jesus to heal his paralyzed servant, whereupon our Savior marveled that “I have not found anyone in Israel with such great faith”. There was also the centurion at the crucifixion who, witnessing Jesus’ death, confessed, “Truly this Man was the Son of God”. Then again, we have Cornelius, in the book of Acts, who became the first Gentile convert baptized by the Apostle Peter. Each account of these Roman soldiers and their testimony exemplifies the redeeming love of God, and is placed in stark contrast to the rejection that Jewish religious leaders displayed towards the promised Messiah.

Christ and the Centurion, by Sebastiano Ricci

Later instances in history underscore the growing presence and impact of Christian soldiers in the Empire’s legions, all of whom navigated persecution while contributing to the grand dissemination of the faith. By the late second century, evidence like funerary inscriptions confirm that they faced expulsion or martyrdom during “purges” by various emperors. Famously, Saint George (patron saint of England), a high-ranking tribune in the Praetorian Guard under Diocletian, exemplified this: born around AD 280 in Cappadocia, he was brutally tortured and beheaded in AD 303 for defying orders to sacrifice to Roman gods. All of these brave witnesses for Christ eventually paved the way for Emperor Constantine’s conversion in AD 312 and Christianity’s eventual dominance over the Roman Empire, transforming Europe’s religious landscape forever.

Emperor Constantine (AD 272-337)

One such soldier, born in the shadowed annals of the third-century Roman Empire, was named Polyeuctus. Possessed of considerable wealth and stature, he belonged to a Greek family during a time when the Roman Empire stretched far to the east, occupying vast swaths of land in what later became known as Byzantium—now including modern day Turkey and the Balkans.

A map of Europe, the Mediterranean region and beyond, showing the extent of the Roman Empire as of AD 125

Polyeuctus rose to the rank of a distinguished officer and was stationed in the rugged outpost of Melitene, in what is now modern day Armenia, a vital frontier fortress. He was said to command respect among his troops, living a life marked by moral integrity despite adhering to pagan practices. He married young and was blessed with children, enjoying the privileges and education that came with high society. And yet, the hand of God was already upon him when his closest bond became that which he shared with his steadfast comrade Nearchus, a fellow officer and fervent Christian whose adoration of his God pierced the veil of Polyeuctus’ worldly complacency.

Polyeuctus (unknown-AD 259)

Modern-day Malatya, Turkey, near the ancient city of Melitene

Nearchus, already baptized and bold in his faith despite the fierce persecutions surrounding him, grieved deeply over Polyeuctus’ unbelief, fearing that death would eternally separate them. This era was fraught with peril for believers, as an edict came down from Emperor Valerian* around AD 257–260, unleashing a ferocious wave of oppression. This edict carried with it the added atrocity of demanding ritual sacrifices to the pagan gods to shore up the crumbling empire’s loyalty and its supposed need for “divine favor” amid cascading crises: barbarian invasions, plague, economic ruin, and humiliating defeats by the Persians.

Emperor Valerian (c. AD 199-260 or 264)

Roman artifact showing a family burning incense on an altar to one of their pantheon of gods or goddesses

Amidst such hostility and turmoil, the heart of Polyeuctus was nevertheless stirred by his beloved Nearchus’ anguished prayers for him. He became fascinated by the Gospel his friend espoused, its principles of mercy and charity which were in opposition to all that he had known before. Then came a Divine intrusion: a profound dream in which Polyeuctus later said Christ Himself appeared to him and ignited an unquenchable fire of conviction within his soul. In that instant, from the moment he awoke, the Spirit’s regenerating power transformed this pagan soldier into a bold confessor of Christ.

Polyeuctus’ and Nearchus’ legion—The Legio XII Fulminata or “Thunderbolt Twelfth Legion”—in battle against the Quadis

With the unbridled zeal of a new convert, and with passion surpassing prudence, Polyeuctus stormed into the public square, ripped asunder the imperial edict that condemned Christians, and proceeded to tear down the lifeless idols surrounding him that mocked the living God. We can imagine what a disruption such a scene made, with him being so distinguished a figure in his district, and committing these acts of defiance while in the uniform of a soldier of the Empire.

Almost immediately he was seized by the authorities and tortured, while his weeping wife, children, and father-in-law implored him to recant his new religion for the sake of an earthly reprieve. Yet, fortified by the indwelling Spirit of God, this brave man was immovable, his faith anchored in Christ alone, declaring the fleeting glories of this world as mere dross compared to the eternal riches of knowing the one true Savior.

The martyrdom of Polyeuctus

As Polyeuctus was led to execution, he spotted his beloved Nearchus in the crowd. Polyeuctus cried out to him joyfully: “Save yourself, my dear friend! Remember the vow of love confirmed between us!”—which was a sacred pledge of brotherhood, to remain faithful unto death for Christ’s sake.

Beheaded on January 10, AD 259, Polyeuctus’ martyrdom reminds us that God’s dear ones are preserved through fiery trials by His unassailable providence.

Nearchus, the faithful instrument of grace in Polyeuctus’ conversion, soon followed his beloved comrade into glory through a separate yet equally glorious crown. Having gathered Polyeuctus’s blood in a cloth as a precious relic and chronicled the acts of his martyrdom for the encouragement of the church, Nearchus himself was arrested amid ongoing persecution and condemned to be burned alive—a torment distinct from his friend’s swift beheading. His fiery death sealed their shared vow, reuniting them eternally before the throne of the Lamb.

The martyrdom of Nearchus

The legacy of their joint witness endures far beyond the obsolete frontiers of the Roman Empire, a fortifying reminder that through Christ we are unified and strengthened, though some of us may be bereft of family or security, in Him we have all that we need, and in each other we should find that community and encouragement for which we have been made a body of believers.

*NOTE: As is often the case with the lives of early saints, the established narrative of their testimony has been cobbled together —in many cases centuries after their deaths—and from sources now lost to us. Such biographies of the lives of these saints are called hagiographies, and were written in part to justify their saintly canonization by the Catholic or Orthodox Churches. Their factual veracity is thus under some weight of scrutiny, and in the case of Polyeuctus, the earliest narratives of his life disagree on dates and whether the edict of persecution came down from Emperor Valerian or Emperor Decius, yet the discrepancy is only a matter of a decade.

Image Credits: 1 Christ and the Centurion (wikipedia.org) 2 Emperor Constantine (wikipedia.org) 3 Roman Empire in AD 125 (wikipedia.org) 4 Polyeuctus (wikipedia.org) 5 Malatya, Turkey (wikipedia.org) 6 Emperor Valerian (wikipedia.org) 7 Family offering incense (wikipedia.org) 8 “The Thundering Legion” (wikipedia.org) 9 Martyrdom of Polyeuctus (wikipedia.org) 10 Martyrdom of Nearchus (wikipedia.org)

“You shall not fall in with the many to do evil, nor shall you bear witness in a lawsuit, siding with the many, so as to pervert justice.” —Exodus 23:2

Lincoln Orders the Largest Mass Execution in American History, December 26, 1862

he Civil War is largely lauded for its impact in regards to ensuring an “indivisible union”, the emancipation of slaves, and laying the foundation for America’s emergence as a world power in the 20th century. There was, however, a tremendous price paid for this, and few instances display that so grimly as the treatment of America’s Native Tribes out west.

A Sioux Village in Wyoming, 1859

The following story is to highlight only one such event: the mass hanging of 38 Dakota men in Mankato, Minnesota, on December 26, 1862. These men were sentenced without due process or recourse, and were hand-picked by President Lincoln himself to make an example of them. Though the story itself is brief, the reflection it casts on the emergence of an arbitrary central power is boundless and chilling.

Many historians have put forth that Abraham Lincoln’s declaration of war against the South marked a paradigm shift toward centralized government power, dismantling the checks and balances that had previously served to restrain federal overreach and protect the rights of states and individuals. This consolidation of power not only transformed the conduct of war between western nations—allowing for the wholesale targeting of non-combatants and bypassing Congressional authority for declarations of hostilities—but also set a grievous precedent for penalizing dissenting people groups.

Sioux women cooking and caring for children in their encampment

The most grievous victims of this emerging American behemoth were its civilians. These included Northern detractors of the Civil War, Southerners subjected to previously unimagined atrocities, and Native Americans such as the Dakota people.

An 1851 Treaty between the Sioux people and the government of Minnesota

The bare facts of this story are thus: in 1851, ten years before the start of the Civil War, certain tribes belonging to the Sioux Nation* in Minnesota sold twenty-four million acres of land to the federal government for $1,410,000. Ten years later, thousands of settlers were pouring onto both these lands and also those which the Natives retained. There was such corruption in the federal government—preoccupied with the Civil War as it was—that almost none of the promised money was ever paid to the Sioux. To make matters worse, in 1862 a crop failure meant that the Sioux were starving, yet lacked their previous broad territory or the promised pecuniary assets to alleviate this. Considering the treaty thus broken, the Sioux revolted.

After the treaty was broken, the Sioux revolted, attacking local farmers and settlers

A short “war” ensued. To ensure a quick end to this revolt, Lincoln put General John Pope in charge of an expedition sent west for that purpose. Pope had distinguished himself earlier in 1862 by dealing harshly with the defenseless citizenry of the Shenandoah Valley, and he was encouraged to use the same tactics out west. Pope wrote a subordinate upon embarking for this new post,

“It is my purpose to utterly exterminate the Sioux…They are to be treated as maniacs or wild beasts, and by no means as people with whom treaties or compromises can be made.”

General John Pope (1822-1892), photographed 1860-65

Nevermind that it was his own government, and his Commander-in-Chief, President Lincoln, whose faithlessness had broken the treaty in the first place. Pope and his modernized army predictably overwhelmed the natives by October, 1862. The revolt thus put down, General Pope now held hundreds of “prisoners of war,” many of whom were native women and children who had been labeled as combatants for defending their homes.

President Abraham Lincoln (1809-1865), photographed in 1862

These unfortunate souls were herded into military forts and there, over the course of a few months, military “trials” were held. Each trial lasted from five to fifteen minutes, conducted without an interpreter, without legal representation, and by a tribunal of officers who had in previous days been desecrating the homes of the accused. The lack of hard evidence, however, was manifest; many men were condemned just because they were present during a battle happening on their home turf.

In total, three hundred and three natives belonging to the Dakota tribe were sentenced to death for rising up against federal soldiers.

Sioux internment camp, Pike Island, winter 1862

When the transcripts of these proceedings reached Lincoln, he expressed fear that such a heavy-handed display of military justice might incite censure. He wrote,

“I ordered a careful examination of the records of the trials to be made, in view of first ordering the execution of such as had been proved guilty of violating females.”

Only two men were found guilty of this, although how that was determined with the language barrier and lack of witnesses was not clear. The execution of two men was far too mild a response to satisfy the Minnesota government, on whose good graces Lincoln was heavily reliant for men and food to continue his war. As a result, Lincoln expanded this list of condemned men to thirty-nine, chosen for their supposed crimes against civilians. To sweeten this executive choice, Lincoln promised Minnesota’s politicians that in due course the Federal army would remove every last Indian from Minnesota—treaty or no. He kept that promise.

Fort Snelling, at the convergence of the Mississippi and Minnesota Rivers, where nearly 2,000 Sioux were kept, awaiting “trial”

So it was that on December 26, 1862 President Lincoln’s hand-picked selection of thirty-eight men were executed by hanging, all at once, on a special scaffold made for the purpose. One had been pardoned last minute. An estimated 4,000 spectators crammed the streets of Mankato and the surrounding area to watch.

It remains the largest mass execution in American history—and yet the guilt of the executed was far from being determined beyond reasonable doubt.

The mass execution of 38 Sioux men in Mankato, Minnesota, December 26, 1862

According to historian Thomas DiLorenzo’s conclusions in his richly-cited book, The Real Lincoln:

“Lincoln would look bad if he allowed the execution of three hundred Indians, so he would execute only thirty-nine of them. But in return he would promise to have the Federal army murder or chase out of the state all the other Indians, in addition to sending the Minnesota treasury $2 million.”

Thus, the original violators of the treaty—the Minnesota government—would be payed with the money first promised to the Sioux Tribes in the broken treaty.

A memorial once stood to mark where the executions took place—it was removed in 1971

This tragic event remains a cautionary horror regarding the overreach of government, and how it is a cold and impersonal entity, bent by nature towards perpetuating injustices through any newfound might. Very often these powers are relinquished or bestowed by a fearful populace, eager for the promised benefits, blind to the impending tyranny. Oliver Cromwell once warned us,

“Necessity hath no law. Feigned necessities, imagined necessities… are the greatest [trickery]** that men can put upon the Providence of God, and make pretenses to break known rules by.”

*The “Sioux” Nation is a confederation of related tribes comprised of the Dakota, Nakota, and Lakota peoples, each speaking dialects of the Siouan language, with the Dakota being the easternmost group.

**original word used was “cozenage”, meaning trickery or deception

Image Credits: 1 Sioux Village (wikipedia.org) 2 Sioux Women (wikipedia.org) 3 1851 Treaty (wikipedia.org) 4 Sioux Revolt (wikipedia.org) 5 General John Pope (wikipedia.org) 6 President Abraham Lincoln (wikipedia.org) 7 Pike Island internment camp (wikipedia.org) 8 Fort Snelling (wikipedia.org) 9 Mass Execution (wikipedia.org) 10 Stone Marker (wikipedia.org)