Two centuries ago, the top international story, one largely forgotten today, was a war in southeastern Europe in which a small nation fought for its independence in a desperate struggle against its longtime oppressor.
Even Vermonters who didn’t normally keep up with international news had reason to follow what was happening almost 5,000 miles away, as the Greeks battled the Ottoman Empire — one of their own was in the midst of the fighting and sending home news from the front.
On Sept. 17, 1824, Burlington’s Sentinel and Democrat newspaper relayed news from Boston that “A short time (ago) … Mr. Johnathan P. Miller, a young gentleman possessing an iron constitution, a cultivated mind, and thorough knowledge of military tactics, sailed from this port in the Sally Ann, to engage in the Greek cause.”
Miller, who was born in Randolph and attended the University of Vermont, was one of three Americans who earned great renown for their bravery and service to Greece in its time of need.
It can be hard for us to grasp the intense connection Americans felt with Greece during the late 18th and early 19th century. At the time, Greece — particularly ancient Greece — played an active role in Americans’ imaginations and their perception of who they were as a people.
American interest in Greek independence dates back to the late 1770s. When Thomas Jefferson was U.S. minister to France, he wrote home to friends about his desire to see Greece free from the Turks, who had occupied the country since the 15th century.
He was hardly alone in being a philhellene, or lover of Greece. Educated Americans studied ancient Greek language, history, philosophy and architecture. In many ways, they saw themselves as the heirs of the ancient Greeks, in that they were trying to fashion a democratic republic largely inspired by the Greeks’ example. Americans hoped the Greece of their day would become a democratic republic too, so there would be another on the world stage.
If Americans identified with the Greeks, they abhorred the Ottoman Empire, which they viewed as the antithesis of the United States, because of its despotic government. Religion also played a role. Many Americans sympathized with the Greeks as Christians rather than the Turks, who were Muslim.
Combustible times
Jonathan Miller joined the military at age 17, when he served in the Army during the War of 1812. After the war, he served two years with a unit based in Massachusetts before starting his studies at the University of Vermont.
But his mind was elsewhere. Apparently inspired by famed Romantic poet Lord Byron and other Europeans who were fighting the Turks, Miller yearned to join the fray. He was, however, short on money, which he would need to equip himself and sail to the Mediterranean. His financial situation wasn’t helped by a fire at UVM that destroyed some of his possessions.
Miller turned for help to Cornelius Van Ness, Vermont’s newly elected governor. Van Ness wrote the young man a letter of introduction — that’s how you networked in the 19th century — addressed to leading philhellenes in Boston. It was the least Van Ness could do. After all, Miller had recently helped rescue valuables from a fire at the governor’s home in Burlington. These were combustible times indeed.
Van Ness’ letter did the trick. By August 1824, Miller was outfitted with military equipment and sailing east. He carried with him another letter of introduction, this one from the Greek Committee of Boston to a well-connected Greek prince.
Much of Miller’s value to the Greeks came in the form of dispatches he wrote home. His reports would arrive aboard merchant ships in a harbor town, such as Boston, where they would be printed in a local newspaper. Over the coming days and weeks, the news would ripple away from the coastal town, traveling at the speed of the horses carrying the newspapers to other towns, where other publications would reprint the reports.
For example, on May 5, 1825, the Vermont Aurora newspaper of Vergennes printed a letter Miller had written the previous December. He had plenty to report: The journey had taken ages, but while waylaid for two months on Malta, he had learned rudimentary Greek. Once in-country, he made his way to the seat of the regional government in the city of Missolonghi and was greeted warmly. There he met an English-speaking man who was thrilled to learn that Miller was American; this man was too. His name was George Jarvis and, like Miller, he had volunteered to fight with the Greeks.
“From him I have learned much of the state of Greece,” Miller wrote. “Their success against the Turks, and the sacrifices which they have made this year for their liberty, are greater than any recorded of Greece in the days of her ancient glory. But what must be the feeling of a man, who looks with a philanthropic eye on the scenes of misfortune, to see soldiers who have been fighting the enemy all summer, now coming to their commanders to beg bread to keep them alive.”
Well-known in America
The Greeks’ situation was dire. Miller was telling Americans that, if they wanted the Greeks to win, they needed to donate to the cause. Dispatches like this made household names in America of Miller and Jarvis, as well as their countryman Samuel Gridley Howe, a surgeon treating the wounded.
Their letters home persuaded Americans to donate to philhellenic societies in Boston, New York and Philadelphia, which shipped supplies to the revolutionaries. The U.S. government didn’t officially back the Greeks, though President Monroe was sympathetic to their cause. America had recently ended its second war with Britain and didn’t want to become embroiled in another conflict.
Philhellenic societies initially focused on providing military aid, but by 1826, as the extent of the humanitarian crisis sparked by the war became clear, assistance shifted more to shipments of food and clothing.
For two years, Miller fought alongside the Greeks, proving himself adept at military matters and fearless in battle to the point of recklessness. Greeks called him “the American Daredevil.”
Miller witnessed horrible scenes during the war. He survived the yearlong siege of Missolonghi, while many others did not. In a letter to Edward Everett, a philhellene in Boston, he explained that many women in Missolonghi chose to kill themselves and their children rather than face the abuses that were sure would follow when the town inevitably fell.
When the Turks took Missolonghi, the feared massacre occurred. Afterward, Greeks would approach him to ask “if all the Christian world has forsaken them.” He concluded the letter by writing, “I must close this hasty scrawl for my heart is too full to write more.”
While in Greece, Miller purchased the sword of Lord Byron, who had succumbed to disease while serving the Greek cause, the money benefiting the family of the Greek officer to whom Byron had given the weapon. The sword is now in the collection of the Vermont Historical Society.
After returning to America, Miller helped organize humanitarian relief efforts and soon sailed back to Greece. He stayed for two more years, distributing the donations, and left only after Greece attained its independence in 1829.
Back in Vermont, he settled in Montpelier and dedicated himself to battling another form of oppression by becoming a leader of the state’s nascent anti-slavery movement.
Postscript:
Miller returned to Vermont having adopted a destitute Greek boy as his son.
Lucas Miltiades Miller grew up in Montpelier, but eventually moved to Wisconsin, where he was elected to Congress. Today, when he is remembered, it is often for his proposal to change the country’s name to the United States of the Earth.
Rep. Miller was nothing if not confident in the future of his adopted land. He suggested the name change because he believed the United States might keep adding new states until it encompassed “every Nation on Earth.”
How would such an expansive country be governed? Miller had an answer. As his proposal explained: “(T)he House and Senate would vote by electricity.”
