THE Upsilonian
UPSILONIAN
The
Upsilon-Upsilon
Chapter
Upsilon-Upsilon Chapter
Phi Alpha
AlphaTheta
Theta
DepartmentofofHistory
Historyand
andPolitical
PoliticalScience
Science
Department
University of the Cumberlands
University of the Cumberlands
Williamsburg, Kentucky
Williamsburg, Kentucky
Vol.Vol.
XXIIXXIII
Summer 2011
Summer
2012
The front cover contains a picture of the Bennett
Building, home of the Upsilon-Upsilon Chapter
of Phi Alpha Theta and the History and Political
Science Department of University of the
Cumberlands. Built in 1906 as part of Highland
College, University of the Cumberlands assumed
ownership in 1907. The building underwent
extensive renovation in 1986-1987.
Journal of the Upsilon-Upsilon Chapter
of Phi Alpha Theta
THE UPSILONIAN
Editor
Andrew Wolfe
Board of Advisors
Bruce Hicks, Ph.D., Chairman of the Board of Advisors, and Associate
Professor of Political Science
Oline Carmical, Ph.D., Professor of History
Christopher Leskiw, Ph.D, Associate Professor of Political Science
Benjamin Meadows, student member of Upsilon-Upsilon
Al Pilant, Ph.D., Professor of History
M.C. Smith, Ph.D., Associate Professor of History
Sarah Sutherland, student member of Upsilon-Upsilon
COPYRIGHT © 2012 by University of the Cumberlands
Department of History and Political Science
All Rights Reserved
Printed in the United States of America
ii
Table of Contents
iv
Comments from the Student Editor....................Andrew Wolfe
v
Comments from the President........................... Jared Coleman
vi
Comments from the Advisor..................................Eric L. Wake
vii
The Authors
Articles
1 “Robert H. Goddard: The Secrecy of a Physics
Professor” ........................................................ Kyla Fitz-Gerald
10 “Power: The True Purpose Behind the Tennessee Valley
Authority”............................................................ Jared Coleman
21 “Sepoy Rebellion of 1857: The Rising
Discontent” .....................................................Amanda Sickman
iii
Comments From The Editor
The pursuit of historical truth is not an easy one. It is a long journey filled
with countless pitfalls and dead-ends. Yet to those scholars that have dedicated
themselves to this journey the final rewards are both extremely satisfying and
enriching. The stories uncovered are many times more intriguing than the best
fiction. As Walt Whitman so eloquently put it, “as soon as histories are properly
told there is no more need of romances.” The three historians whose research
papers are presented in this year’s edition of The Upsilonian have accomplished
this in extraordinary fashion. The highest congratulations go out to Kyla FitzGerald, Jared Coleman, and Amanda Sickman for writing papers that were both
informative and a pleasure to read. We also thank all the historians who submitted
papers that were not included in this year’s edition. Continue to pursue your
passion of trying to understand the lessons and mysteries of the past.
We would like to extend sincere thanks to everybody who worked so hard to
make the publication of The Upsilonian possible. First and foremost a giant debt
of gratitude is owed to Dr. Eric Wake, chairman of the Department and Advisor
of the Upsilon-Upsilon chapter. Without his guidance and leadership this journal
would not be possible year-to-year. Special thanks also go to Dr. Bruce Hicks,
this year’s Chairman of the Board of Advisors, and all other Faculty members and
students of the History and Political Science Department for helping to read and
select the published papers. Finally, a special thank you goes to Mrs. Fay Partin,
the Department’s Administrative Assistant. This journal’s publication is largely
due to her unwavering assistance and hard work.
A final congratulation goes out to the Department’s graduating seniors.
Thank you for all the years of hard work and dedication to both your classes and
Upsilon-Upsilon. You will be truly missed by all in the Department. We pray for
God’s Blessings in all your future endeavors.
To everyone who will have the pleasure of discovering the stories and truths
contained within this 23rd edition of The Upsilonian I wish you the best of
journeys and hope you find yourself both entertained and enlightened by the end.
Andrew Wolfe
Editor, Upsilon-Upsilon
2011-2012
iv
COMMENTS FROM THE PRESIDENT
Another academic year has come and gone and with its close it is time once again
to publish The Upsilonian. It has been yet another great year for our historic chapter. Two
members travelled with our faculty advisor, Dr. Eric L. Wake, to the Phi Alpha Theta
National Conference in Orlando, Florida, where one member, Kyla Fitz-Gerald,
presented a paper that was well received. Kyla and I also had the honor to present papers
at this year’s regional conference, where her paper was honored as a runner-up.
This year has also seen our chapter host four lectures, which were well attended;
conduct two successful book/bake sales; and host department pizza parties, a cookout, as
well as the closing picnic. It has been an exciting year for Phi Alpha Theta, and we are
honored to have inducted several new members this year.
As my time at University of the Cumberlands draws to a close I am grateful for
the many opportunities I have been blessed with here, and for the friendships I have
made. I wish the best of luck to all who are moving on to further their education or
pursue a career. For those who remain, enjoy your time here, and make the most of it, for
it is fleeting. Thanks are due to Kyla Fitz-Gerald, my predecessor, for her hard work on
behalf of the honor society; Dr. Eric L. Wake, our faculty advisor, for his dedication to
Phi Alpha Theta and for always demanding excellence; and to Fay Partin, department
secretary, for everything she does that often goes unnoticed. Additionally, special thanks
are due to the students who have submitted papers to this publication. I am sure that you
will find them enjoyable and educational to read.
It has been an honor to study under the faculty of the History and Political
Science Department and alongside such incredible students. Best wishes to all!
Jared Coleman, President
Upsilon-Upsilon, Spring 2012
v
v
COMMENTS FROM THE ADVISOR
Another academic year has come to a close. The year passed so quickly. My
students believe I am crazy when I tell them I come to work on Monday morning and go
home on Friday evening. To me this seems to be the truth. Our chapter numbers continue
to remain small, but the group continues to perform well. For many years, the chapter
has presented at least two papers at the Regional Convention. Indeed we have won
awards at the last three conventions. Two students traveled with me to the national
convention in Orlando with one presenting a paper which was well received. Kyla FitzGerald, who was the president in the fall semester, did an internship in Frankfort, KY
with the Kentucky History Museum. This gave her some valuable experience as she will
be pursuing an M.A. degree in anthropology at the University of Idaho with a field in
historical archeology. And Jared Coleman, our spring president will be pursuing an M.A.
at Florida State University in Religion. We are proud of them.
Two of the papers in this issue of The Upsilonian were written by Kyla and Jared.
We will miss them as they go on to graduate school. Fortunately the third writer,
Amanda Sickman will be returning for another year. We are expecting great things from
Amanda and a small but energetic group that will be returning.
We wish success to our graduates and want them to remember that they are
always a part of the Upsilon-Upsilon tradition. Those of us who remain will carry on
that tradition as we know that our alumni expect it.
Eric L. Wake, Ph.D
Advisor, Upsilon-Upsilon Chapter
vi
vi
Authors
Kyla Fitz-Gerald was a May 2012
graduate with a major in history and a
minor in criminal justice. The original
draft of her paper was written for the
Issues in History course, a senior capstone
course.
Jared Coleman was a May 2012
graduate with majors in Political Science
and Religion. The original draft of his
paper was written for Issues in Political
Science course, a senior capstone course.
Amanda Sickman is a rising senior in the
class of 2012-2013. She has a major in
social studies. The original draft of this
paper was written for a course entitled
England.
vii
ROBERT H. GODDARD: THE SECRECY
OF A PHYSICS PROFESSOR
ROBERT H. GODDARD: THE SECRECY OF A PHYSICS PROFESSOR
By Kyla Fitz-Gerald
By Kyla Fitz-Gerald
“Every
is is
a joke
until
thethe
firstfirst
manman
accomplishes
“Everyvision
vision
a joke
until
accomplishes it.
1
it.Once
Oncerealized,
realized, itit becomes
becomes commonplace.”
commonplace.”1
--Robert H. Goddard
--Robert H. Goddard
The father of modern American rocketry was inventor and physicist Robert H.
Goddard.
Goddard’s secrecy concerning his rocket research originated from his father’s
manner of raising him, and was strengthened by the public’s expectations and ridicule
later in his career. Throughout his lifetime Goddard did little to openly try to
communicate his ideas for reaching space, and hid his work from his family, friends, and
especially his fellow academics. His theories on possible modes of extraterrestrial travel
began in high school and progressed through his professorship at Clark University until
he launched the first liquid-propelled rocket in 1926. After the first launch, he dedicated
the rest of his life to improving the liquid fuel rocket. Though many of his public
statements pointed to his intentions for the rocket for atmospheric research, his personal
records and journal lead a person to believe firmly that he really intended the rocket for
space travel. His justifiable fear of the public’s reaction to such ambitions kept him from
personally stating this goal for his research, and his fear instilled by his father that others
would steal his work kept him from sharing with his colleagues.
Robert Goddard was born on October 5, 1882 in Worcester, Massachusetts.2 His
father, Nahum Goddard, was a lover of gadgets and technology and cultivated the same
interest in his son.3 His parents believed that their son was a genius from birth, often
recounting a story of placating the baby by situating him so he could view the freight
yards and their systems of pulleys for hours. His parents also believed him to be a sickly
child, who was pulled out of school because of illness more often than not.4 Goddard’s
official biographer Milton Lehman—a journalist given the first rights to view Goddard’s
personal papers—seems to let these assumptions go unquestioned in his biographies of
Goddard. Yet, historian David A. Clary raises a valid point in his own biography of
Goddard’s life. It is apparent in Goddard’s journal entries during boyhood that he did not
seem to be the sickly genius his parents and friends portrayed. He comes across as a
normal, healthy, and curious young boy.5 Goddard was a very curious and imaginative
boy, and this may be partly attributed to his father and the atmosphere in which he was
raised. A year after his son’s birth, Nahum moved the Goddard family to Boston.
Growing up in a location known to produce inventors and having a father very
interested in inventing and the latest gadgets, was certain to influence young Robert
Goddard’s imagination. There are many stories of Goddard’s early years in which he
often tried to test his ideas. At age sixteen Goddard worked for a month and a half on an
aluminum balloon which continued to fail for the entirety of the project; yet, he persisted
until he could actually test his idea, which failed ultimately.6 His projects were furnished
by his father who gave him a telescope, microscope, and a subscription to Scientific
American. With these items he experimented with kites, optical devices, and theorized
about perpetual motion.7
Nahum Goddard’s influence did not stop at Robert’s inventions. He taught his son
to guard his business and protect his ideas. The Goddard way was to mind their own
business and stay out of other’s. Goddard was to keep his own affairs to himself and not
let those around him know of them.8
1
1
2
2
During his childhood, Goddard’s mother suffered from tuberculosis. His
grandmother took him in and confined him as though he were ill.9 During this time he
began to read every book he could get his hands on, including H.G. Well’s War of the
Worlds, which he read several times. The book inspired him to begin thinking of ways to
travel off the earth.10 Because of his mother’s illness, the Goddards moved back to
Worcester in 1898, where Goddard had his life-changing ‘realization’ while climbing a
cherry tree. Goddard decided that studying high altitudes was the most difficult and
fascinating problem facing mankind.11 Every year, in his journal, he marked the
anniversary of that day in October, making it a monumental event that constantly
motivated him in his work.12
Goddard was rejected in his first attempt in 1901 to get an article about applying
the flight principles of chimney swifts to human flight published in St. Nicholas
Magazine. The editor sent a reply dismissing Goddard’s theorizing because, according to
him, the chimney swift’s ability to fly was dependant on their intelligence and, since a
machine could not be given intelligence, it would never be able to fly.13 Even as a
teenager Goddard’s research was greeted with rejection and misunderstanding.
The time in which Goddard was raised was no stranger to new ideas,
technological advances, and ‘oddities.’ Samuel P. Langley—Secretary of the
Smithsonian—created a small unmanned steam driven ‘aerodome’ that flew to 4, 200
feet. The papers concerning this flight were used by many to further the research behind
flight and Goddard even sent a request to the Smithsonian to study them.14 In 1901 the
first radio message was sent across the Atlantic Ocean, 1902 saw the invention of the
polygraph ‘lie detector’ by James MacKenzie, and in 1903 the Wright brothers flew their
first man-controlled aircraft. Albert Einstein changed physics forever with his Theory of
Relativity in 1905.
Goddard’s ingenuity led him to continue his attempt to profit from inventing. He
wanted to pay for college by selling some of his smaller inventions and ended up
enrolling in Worcester Polytechnic Institute in 1904. Despite the era of invention, many
of his professors and other faculty saw his projects as “unworkable” and off the wall.15
The projects that the Institute got a taste of were nothing closely related to what Goddard
was really working on, which was his childhood dream of space flight. Even with well
trained and educated mentors easily on hand, he would not seek advice or input on his
secret goal. Many of his professors questioned why he was interested in science and
math, but even then he would not confide in them.16 He was brainstorming ideas to solve
problems such as landing after traveling great speeds, and he thought to use the planet’s
gravitation to slow the trajectory. He wondered how people would live in space for long
periods of time and if life could be suspended for a time.17 The only time it was clear he
doubted space travel would ever happen was once in 1906 when he wrote a despairing
entry in his journal.18 At his graduation his professors and classmates still did not know
of his true intentions. His first published article was on balancing aeroplanes in Scientific
American in 1907.19
Goddard’s personal goals underwhelmed his ‘big dream’ as he enrolled in
graduate school at Clark University in 1909, hoping to gain a teaching position at the
Polytechnic Institute after receiving his masters. This was the year that he first recorded
the idea for liquid rocket fuel.20 During a test of a rocket charge (of a powder nature) in
the school’s laboratory, he filled the lab with black smoke. When Goddard explained to
3
3
the responding instructor, he left out the purpose for his experiment believing that the
professor would have a difficult time understanding him.21
Though his mind was consumed with space travel, he received his masters in
1910 for his thesis entitled “Theory of Diffraction” which related to the operation of
radios.22 He then accepted a fellowship at the Princeton Physical Laboratory in 1912. One
year later he was diagnosed with tuberculosis in both lungs and was given ten days to
live.23 His attitude towards his death can shed some light on the progress he believed he
had made and how he felt about others gaining that knowledge. He wrote to a friend
during those days “I had worked out all this rocket theory on bits of scrap paper, while at
Princeton, and I knew nobody could ever read my writing.”24 This could mean that he did
not think anyone could follow his explanations as he had already been misunderstood in
presenting his ideas. His worry about the predicament shows his desire to publish his
work one day, but his desire was unfulfilled as he recovered slowly over the next few
years.
During his years at Clark University, Goddard studied under a world-renowned
physics professor, Arthur Gordon Webster. Because of Webster’s thorough teaching style
and all-encompassing understanding of science, Goddard came to fully understand
Newton’s Third Law of Motion which he had been studying with great interest since high
school.25 The law stated that “To every action there is always opposed an equal reaction:
or the mutual actions of two bodies upon each other are always equal, and directed to
contrary parts.”26 Under Webster’s guidance Goddard was able to understand that
according to this law a force was not needed for an object to react to. Gravity, magnetic
fluids, or even air were not necessary for fulfillment of the Third Law.27 This would later
become a pivotal component of Goddard’s research.
A year after he survived his bout with tuberculosis, he received his first two
rocket related patents, though he had been patenting his ideas long before this. At the
outbreak of World War One, Goddard—the newest instructor in physics at Clark
University--submitted some of his rocket patents to the U.S. Navy, which expressed great
interest, but wanted to see physical samples of his research. But because of the illness
from which he was still recovering, he could not oblige them.28 In 1915 when he became
assistant professor at Clark, he began testing his rocket theories and successfully proved
that powder charges were not sufficient in producing a force great enough to reach the
altitudes he was after. He also tested and proved his vacuum theories relating to the Third
Law.29
Goddard’s first proposal concerning his rocket research was entitled “A Method
of Reaching Extreme Altitudes.” He submitted it to the Smithsonian for the purpose of
gaining a research grant to further his work. To Goddard’s benefit a certain Smithsonian
donor—Thomas G. Hodgkins—required that half of his gift be only used for atmospheric
research before the other half be used.30 In 1917 he received a letter stating that his
theories had been verified as sound because of his mathematical proof, and the
Smithsonian granted him $5,000.31 Upon hearing of this grant other scientists from
varying disciplines became jealous that such a large sum (hardly what Goddard needed to
truly further his research) was being given to something they did not consider hard
science, but rather gadgetry.32 His work, though backed by one of the best known
institutions of science and technology, was still ridiculed by fellow academics.
Goddard’s academic paranoia really began to show after a 1917 article was
published in the Worcester Evening Gazette titled, “Making Rockets to Reach an
4
4
Enormous Height.” He proceeded to install burglar alarms and covered his windows with
blankets to protect his research.33 This was the first instance of unsolicited public
exposure leading Goddard to fear for the exposure of his work. He refused to work with
any other professionals in his or any related area of science.
In his request for funds from the Smithsonian, he merely asked for enough to
cover the cost of one assistant and two mechanics.34 Even then, in 1917 he purchased a
lock for his notes which he hid in his attic. Then his worst nightmare occurred. The
assistant he had hired lost a section of his notes, and they were only found with
Goddard’s help. After this incident, the assistant used Goddard’s mechanics, while on the
job, to fix a car. Not surprisingly, the assistant was fired and Goddard became even more
secretive.35
Meanwhile, Goddard submitted plans to the Navy for a submarine detector that
used sound, much like modern day sonar devices, but they were not interested. The only
interest anyone had in Goddard’s inventions were some local industrialists who wanted to
use Goddard’s plans to produce rockets for military purposes. Because of his patents,
they would have to use his name and work with him, which he was reluctant to do after
hearing one of the potential partners say that his rocket was not very complex and anyone
could produce it.36 Then in the following weeks, Goddard received an unusual letter from
Atlas Powder Company about an order that he had not placed. When investigators looked
into the matter, they discovered that Worcester industrialists who wanted to use
Goddard’s patents had used his ex-assistant to order Goddard’s special formula.
Goddard fled Worcester to Washington, D.C. where the Smithsonian dealt with
the industrialists for him and found the professor a new location for his research. He then
secretly traveled to California where he worked at Mount Wilson Workshops on a Signal
Corps project for the Army. He left all notes of his rockets in purposefully mislabeled
envelopes with a Worcester friend to put in a safe during his absence.37 Goddard’s
attempts to share his work were unwanted, and his reasons for protecting his work were
strengthened by the incident with the industrialists.
Despite his encounter with the industrialists and his former employee, he
managed to trust a former colleague, Dr. Parker, and a graduate student, Clarence N.
Hickman, to work with at Mount Wilson. They were attempting to use the rocket as a
short range single charge projectile, but when the war ended this project was all but
forgotten.38 This setback did not stop him from thinking of space travel, though even his
closest associates did not know of it.
After the armistice, he returned to Worcester and continued teaching. One of his
classes was a lecture on applying Einstein’s Theory of Relativity to rocketry, so that an
atom would one day power the rocket. He had not forgotten about the little details
through it all and, in 1919, began to consider how space to earth communication would
work.39 Because of his work with the military, an unauthorized wire service report stated
that Goddard was working on a “terrible engine of war.” Following that report a
Worcester Gazette reporter published a story on Goddard’s work with the military and on
the possibilities of a rocket traveling in a vacuum.40 This was frightening for the paranoid
professor, but positive reports of his work traveled to England, France, Germany, and
other places. These reports were often mere speculation on the height his rocket had
gained and of the U.S. War Department’s influence on the operation. Goddard tried to
discourage further interest in the subject.41
5
5
However harrowing Goddard’s past experiences with public exposure had been,
when his mentor Dr. Webster encouraged him to publish his research proposal he
complied after some incentivizing. A Method of Reaching Extreme Altitudes was
published in January of 1920 by the Smithsonian. The resulting negative reactions to his
research were based on one small portion of the work that he had put in almost as an
afterthought (really the tip of an iceberg that Goddard had deliberately left out while
revising for publication). In this portion of his work, Goddard acknowledged the
possibilities of a lunar landing using the rocket. He mentioned it cautiously so as not to
turn away potential sponsors.42 The Smithsonian regarded this as a theoretical possibility
and viewed Goddard as a meteorologist, not a space fanatic.43
The public and the press did not agree with the Smithsonian. All was quiet for
eight days after publication until the Smithsonian issued a press release that mentioned a
test of the rocket’s ability to leave Earth’s gravitation by flinging it at the moon and
watching for the resulting impact. The Smithsonian released this statement on January
11th. On January 12th articles abounded about the ‘moon rocket.’ The Boston American
announced “Modern Jules Verne Invents Rocket to Reach Moon,” The New York Times
claimed “Aim to Reach Moon with New Rocket,” while the Milwaukee Sentinel declared
“Claim to Moon May Soon Be Reached.” Goddard’s peers were surprised by his
ambitions and jokingly greeted him with, “Well, Robert how is your moon-going
rocket?”44 The scrutiny, assumptions, and public amusement did not go away easily.
People sent him songs about his moon rocket, and others offered help. The Mary Pickford
studios in Hollywood wanted to send a message to the moon when he started launching
rockets.45 People volunteered to travel in space, some declaring in news articles that they
would be launched to Mars soon.46 Goddard replied, “I am beginning to appreciate the
difficulty of making oneself understood.”47
One of the most detrimental articles to Goddard’s reputation was an editorial in
the New York Times. His research was explained, but with very little credit given to his
background knowledge and the tests he had performed. The editorial openly mocked his
credentials, and stated that Goddard, “does not know the relation of action to reaction,
and of the need to have something better than a vacuum against which to react—to say
that would be absurd. Of course he only seems to lack the knowledge ladled out daily in
high schools.”48 The author of this article did not fully understand the Third Law, and yet
stated that Goddard did not have the credentials to interpret this law. The editorial said
this interpretation of the basic principles “deny a fundamental law of dynamics, and only
Dr. Einstein and his chosen dozen, so few and fit, are licensed to do that.”49
The London Graphic doubted the possibility of the rocket surviving when exiting
the earth’s atmosphere and the scientific value of a moon impact.50 Goddard’s response
was published in the Worcester Telegram and refuted all scientific speculation that the
British reporter raised. He explained that the velocity of the rocket at the denser part of
the atmosphere would be less than a bullet and that the heat would not reduce the speed
or burn the rocket up.51
An article titled “The Possibilities of the Rocket in Weather Forecasting” was
published by Goddard to try to set the record straight about his intentions for the rocket.
“It should be understood that although theory indicates the possibility of reaching great
altitudes, the application discussed in the present paper is solely the raising of recording
instruments to a moderate height.”52 Despite his efforts, the public would not accept his
consistent explanations and continued to call his project a ‘moon rocket.’ Much to
6
6
Goddard’s dismay, a reporter at the Wilmington News in Delaware declared that
Goddard’s first test of his rocket would take place in July or August.53 The trustees at
Clark University felt that all of the press was misrepresenting Goddard’s work and
offered him $3,500 over two years so he could finish his work. The Smithsonian, as well
as Clark University, accepted his research for its immediate purpose and neither
institution suspected his real desire.54
The isolation that Goddard wanted while conducting his research extended to
those within his field as well. When prominent rocket scientist Hermann Oberth inquired
about Goddard’s work and asked if they could collaborate on their projects, Goddard
responded by sending Oberth a copy of his manuscript and did not respond to his offer.
Later when Oberth published his own theoretical work, Goddard was disappointed that
Oberth had borrowed heavily from his research, and this affected Goddard’s willingness
to work or share his work with anyone. 55 After a year or so, the stir about his ‘moon
rocket’ died down, but Goddard continued to defend atmospheric research and continued
to publish articles describing his methods and the value to weather research.56
On March 16th, 1926, Goddard became the first rocket scientist to test his theories
successfully when he launched the first liquid propelled rocket. The rocket only rose to
41 feet, a short distance for a rocket, but a success for the first liquid fuel rocket. The
Smithsonian responded to this event with little interest in publicizing it, as they felt the
public would disregard such a small height.57 The public would not hear much of rocket
launches until after July 17, 1929, when another successful flight attracted attention.
Goddard’s team was testing the first rocket to contain instruments that would record the
altitude and atmosphere at its zenith; the parachute did not trigger and the rocket hit the
ground with a loud bang. This drew a crowd of bystanders, the police, two ambulances,
and worst of all, two local reporters.58
In the following days, reports circulated in the newspapers describing all manner
of explosions and plane crashes that the media could come up with. Headlines appeared
such as, “Rocket Starts For The Moon But Blows Up On Way,” “Giant Rocket Fails In
Planned Trip To Moon,” and “Plane Afire Proves to Be Rocket Which Inventor Hopes
To Shoot From Earth to Moon.” People remembered the moon rocket man, and the
questions were still the same; people were curious when he would hit the moon or Mars.
The Boston Herald declared that “Goddard’s Invention Fails to Reach Objective by
238,856 ½ Miles,” but Goddard refused to respond to this jab at his research.59
The greatest misconception was that the rocket had exploded, but even when it
was made clear to the fire marshal that it was merely the ignition of a rocket engine,
Goddard’s experiments were declared a fire hazard. The authorities in the surrounding
area outlawed the moon rocket, calling it a public menace and Goddard was asked to stop
his work or find another location.60 This was how Goddard eventually found himself
testing his rockets and making much progress in New Mexico until his death in August
1945.
Despite an onslaught of bad press, misconceptions, and humiliating jokes at his
expense, Goddard never hesitated in his work and continued to work on his rocket in
New Mexico. It is clear that the attention frustrated and baffled the professor, though it
never affected the quality of his work. It did cause him to protect his work, and shy away
from working with other academics.
Rocket science being such a field of high complexity, it is strange that the first
American rocket scientist would not employ any technicians, scientists, or specialists and
7
7
instead worked with a few mechanics. Those close to him would later describe him as
easy to talk to, humorous, and well mannered, though he would often stick to business
with his colleagues and never talk about his personal life.61 Goddard’s official
biographer, Milton Lehman, compared the two sides of his personality to the two areas
where Goddard spent most of his life. Outgoing, passionate, and open Boston, and
protective, inventive, and careful Worcester.62 The two main causes of Goddard’s
behavior were his upbringing by his father and the media’s treatment of his research.
ENDNOTES
1
Milton Lehman, Robert H. Goddard: Pioneer of Space Research (New York: Da Capo
Press, 1988), 109.
David A. Clary, Rocket Man: Robert H. Goddard and the Birth of the Space Age (New
York: Hyperion, 2003), 6.
2
3
Milton Lehman, This High Man; The Life of Robert H. Goddard (New York: Farrar,
Straus, 1963), 15.
4
Clary, Rocket Man, 11.
5
Ibid., 13.
Robert Hutchings Goddard, The Autobiography of Robert Hutchings Goddard, Father
of the Space Age; Early Years to 1927 (Worcester, Mass: A.J. St. Onge, 1966), 29-30.
6
7
Clary, Rocket Man, 10.
8
Lehman, Pioneer of Space Research, 17.
9
Clary, Rocket Man, 14
10
Lehman, This High Man, 23.
11
Robert Goddard, Autobiography, 31-32.
12
Lehman, Pioneer of Space Research, 28.
13
Esther C. Goddard, and G. Edward Pendray, The Papers of Robert H. Goddard Volume
I: 1898-1924 (Clark University Archives, 1970) Under “The Papers of Robert H. Goddard,
Volume I, 1898-1924” http://www1.websearchstudio.net/scripts/ws.dll?websearch&site
=Goddard (Accessed November 15, 2011), 55-56.
14
Lehman, This High Man, 29-30.
15
Clary, Rocket Man, 22-23.
16
Lehman, Pioneer of Space Research, 46.
8
8
17
Lehman, This High Man, 48.
18
Esther Goddard, The Papers of Robert H. Goddard Volume I, 74.
19
Clary, Rocket Man, 26.
20
Lehman, Pioneer of Space Research, 55.
21
Lehman, This High Man, 56.
22
Lehman, Pioneer of Space Research, 56.
23
Clary, Rocket Man, 41.
24
Lehman, This High Man, 63.
25
Robert Goddard, Autobiography, 33-34.
26
Lehman, Pioneer of Space Research, 31.
27
Ibid., 54.
28
Esther Goddard, The Papers of Robert H. Goddard Volume I, 152-153.
29
Clary, Rocket Man, 57-60.
30
Lehman, This High Man, 79.
31
Esther Goddard, The Papers of Robert H. Goddard Volume I, 180-181.
32
Lehman, Pioneer of Space Research, 85.
33
Clary, Rocket Man, 70.
34
Esther Goddard, The Papers of Robert H. Goddard Volume I, 210.
35
Lehman, This High Man, 87.
36
Clary, Rocket Man, 70-71.
37
Lehman, Pioneer of Space Research, 90-91.
38
Lehman, This High Man, 92.
39
Lehman, Pioneer of Space Research, 99.
40
“Invents Rocket with Altitude Range 70 Miles,” Worcester Evening Gazette, March 28,
41
Clary, Rocket Man, 82.
1919.
9
9
42
Robert Goddard, A Method of Reaching Extreme Altitudes (Washington D.C.:
Smithsonian Institution, 1919), 57.
43
Lehman, This High Man, 5.
44
Clary, Rocket Man, 96.
45
Esther Goddard, The Papers of Robert H. Goddard Volume I, 408-409.
46
“Collins Still Ready to be Shot to Mars,” Chicago American, March 22, 1920.
Robert H. Goddard, “On High Altitude Research,” Science, New Series 51, no. 1310
(February 6, 1920): 141.
47
48
Editorial, New York Times, January 13, 1920.
49
Ibid.
50
Lehman, This High Man, 111.
51
“Prof. Goddard Answers the London Graphic, Says His Moon Rocket Would Not
Explode,” Worcester Telegram, December 30, 1920.
52
Robert H. Goddard, “The Possibilities of the Rocket in Weather Forecasting.”
Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America 6, no. 8 (1920):
494.
53
“Rockets May Help Explore Space,” Wilmington News, April 29, 1920.
54
Lehman, Pioneer of Space Research, 115.
55
Clary, Rocket Man, 108-109.
Robert Hutchings Goddard, “The High Altitude Rocket,” Monthly Weather Review 52,
no 2 (February, 1924): 105.
56
57
Lehman, This High Man, 144.
58
Esther C. Goddard, and G. Edward Pendray The Papers of Robert H. Goddard Volume
II: 1925-1937 (Clark University Archives, 1970) Under “The Papers of Robert H. Goddard,
Volume II, 1925-1937” http://www1.websearchstudio.net/scripts/ws.dll?websearch&site
=Goddard (Accessed November 15, 2011), 668.
59
“Blast Wrecks Moon Rocket; House Shaken,” Boston Herald, July 18, 1929.
60
Clary, Rocket Man, 136-137.
61
Lehman, This High Man, 4.
62
Lehman, Pioneer of Space Research, 11.
POWER: THE TRUE PURPOSE BEHIND THE
TENNESSEE
VALLEY
AUTHORITY
POWER:
THE TRUE
PURPOSE
BEHIND THE
By
Jared
Coleman
TENNESSEE VALLEY AUTHORITY
By Jared Coleman
The Tennessee Valley Authority is approaching its 79th birthday. Though the
people of the valley region feel its effects every day the reason for its existence is often
forgotten and few if any remember a time without it in their lives.
An examination of the origins and early days of the Tennessee Valley Authority
reveals its true purpose. Though marketed as a multi-purpose development project
encompassing navigation, flood-control, fertilizer, social development and power
production, the true purpose of the Tennessee Valley Authority was the production and
sale of electric power by the federal government.
In 1916, with the European continent embroiled in a war and America still
neutral, interventionist President Woodrow Wilson began preparing the United States for
the possibility of war. One of the primary concerns was the dependence on a foreign
source of nitrates, a necessary component for the manufacture of munitions. Senator
Ellison D. Smith of South Carolina introduced a bill that provided for the manufacture of
synthetic nitrates in America. This bill was folded into the National Defense Act of 1916
and authorized the President to “ascertain the most feasible method of synthetic nitrogen
production and to construct and operate such plants.”1 Additionally, the Act allowed the
plant to be used in peacetime for fertilizer production. This minor section of the National
Defense Act would generate tremendous attention and discussion in the years to follow.
The Muscle Shoals area of the Tennessee River had long been the subject of
Congressional discussion, for both navigation and hydroelectric power production.2 This
area of the river was characterized by a series of rapids and falls that made navigation
extremely difficult. It was here that Wilson decided to construct the nitrate plants, due to
the potential for hydroelectric power to operate the plants. Before the plants could be
completed the war in Europe reached its conclusion, and the question of what to do with
the Muscle Shoals facility arose. Over one hundred bills concerning Muscle Shoals came
before Congress in the 1920s.3 A great deal of discussion regarding this area took place,
and it is important to realize that this was no new subject during the Hundred Days,
Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s first three months as President which were characterized by
aggressive policy-making.
The proposals for the Muscle Shoals facility fell under the purview of Senator
George W. Norris, chair of the Senate Agriculture Committee. A progressive Republican
from Nebraska he considered himself a man of the people, especially the farmer. He had
been involved with public power generation since 1913, when the Hetch Hetchy Dam
project in Yellowstone National Park demonstrated the possibilities of dams for
irrigation, flood control, and, above all, power.4 Amid the various proposals concerning
Muscle Shoals, including multiple offers from Henry Ford and other private investors,
Norris stood firm in his opposition to private power initiatives. He was a staunch
supporter of public power and “a relentless foe of privately owned utilities.”5 Between
1921 and 1933, Norris introduced nine bills for government ownership and operation of
Muscle Shoals. Throughout this difficult process, his primary focus was consistently
public power development. Raymond Moley supports this: “Norris was a dedicated
exponent of power production and distribution… there is ample evidence that until 1933
Norris was interested only in the power aspects of the program. He included navigation
10
10
11
11
and flood control… to bring the project within the constitutional powers of the…
government.”6 Of the nine proposals made, six failed, two were passed and vetoed— one
by President Coolidge and one by President Hoover, and the final one passed.7 Norris’s
eventual success was a result of a new administration tasked with a sweeping set of
reforms intended to bring America out of the Great Depression.
Norris’s perseverance throughout the twenties and three presidential
administrations was finally rewarded with the election of Franklin Delano Roosevelt
(FDR) in 1933.With Roosevelt, Norris discovered an ally.8 In his inaugural address, FDR
called Congress into a special session later known as the Hundred Days.
In the frenetic environment of the Hundred Days, a plethora of legislation was
passed, with Congress given little time to evaluate the particular merits or weaknesses of
any specific bill. The Emergency Banking Act, Agricultural Adjustment Act, Civilian
Conservation Corps, and other legislation were all designed to improve economic growth
and stem the tide of unemployment. Amid these Acts, one stands out: The Tennessee
Valley Authority Act (TVAA). It had “little to do with the surge of economic recovery…
It was not proposed as experimental or temporary… it was an institution built for all
time.”9
Hidden among relief efforts, the TVAA had no apparent relief immediacy.
Instead, its “payback period was several decades”.10 Its passage was the result of years of
battle by Norris and others. It was not a new proposal, “… Unlike much of the precedentshattering legislation adopted in the triumphant ‘hundred days’ the TVA statute had a
long legislative history.”11 It was not a response to the economic emergency and its
programs were not new to Congress; they had been under consideration for the previous
decade.
The TVAA, however, differed in a significant way from Norris’s previous
proposals concerning power. It was introduced as a multi-purpose development,
encompassing flood-control, irrigation, economic and social development, navigation,
and power. Was this new purpose a true redirection of the previous objective, or was it
simply a means to the end of power production— a way to legalize government
corporations?
Initially, it seemed as if the TVAA was an effort by the government to become
involved in regional development. FDR claimed the “great development of Muscle
Shoals was only a minor part of his plan; he looked forward to a project bringing
industrial and social order out of the haphazard growth that had characterized our
national life.”12 The Tennessee Valley Authority (TVA) was to be a model for
development replicated across the nation.
Roosevelt believed that the TVA would not be a singular institution, but rather
one of many regional projects. It would be “a prototype of other valley authorities to
follow.”13 Arthur Morgan, the first director of the TVA, argued that it was designed as a
multi-purpose development to provide a standard, or “yardstick,” for power production
costs and the ability of the government to positively affect economic conditions by
inserting itself into regional affairs and overseeing a wide range of issues. Morgan argued
that the Tennessee River Valley should be considered “not as having peculiar and
different problems, but as being representative of many regions in America.”14 The
regional endeavor minimized attention and opposition and allowed the difficulties to be
worked out before the idea was applied on a national level.
12
12
The TVA was to be a new kind of government agency, taking on a heretoforeunprecedented role. The issue was that these areas needed a “catalyst… something that
can create order out of all this maze of possibilities.”15 Allegedly, the TVA was loosely
based on the Hoover Dam project as well as the city management of power in Tacoma,
Washington. The difference is that these programs were much narrower in scope than the
proposed TVA and were created under strict guidelines, “The Hoover project… was
carefully guarded by provisions for its operation… under carefully drawn contract before
construction was started.”16 These provisions set prices for the sale of power and outlined
its purchasers. The sale of the power would offset the cost of the dam. In Tacoma, the
city ran the power plants and limited their goals to power production alone. This is
drastically different than the goals of Roosevelt for “the widest experiment ever
undertaken by a government,”17 an experiment in multi-purpose regional development
that “clearly foreshadowed extension of government activity in this field.”18
Arthur Morgan was an engineer who had been involved with a number of
government projects throughout his career; his role in these projects, however, was that
of a businessman whose client was the government and his projects had never been broad
in scope. Instead, they primarily focused on flood control.19 As president of Antioch
College in Yellow Springs, Ohio he had turned the institution around and created a new
educational system— that of a work-study college.20
Shortly after accepting the position as chairman of the directors of the TVA,
Morgan’s views on the subject of the government promoting economic development
became evident. He had written: “In the Russian program, broad, sweeping conclusions
about life and society provide a justification for sustained enthusiasm and for great
sacrifice.”21 He was of the opinion that leadership must control society to the point of
dictating its flow and mandating an agenda for development. In his estimation, leadership
could not endure if it did not “offer guidance in the solution of the fundamental problems
of living.”22
His view of government was decidedly paternalistic and his intention to influence
the social and economic conditions of the Tennessee Valley was clear. This was a vast
expansion on Norris’s original ideas for the region. Multi-purpose development was a
new arena for the government, and it is clear that Morgan desired to implement a socialist
model. Moley states: “Morgan’s ideas of what should be done in the Tennessee Valley
extended not only to the federal development of the power facilities of the Wilson Dam,
but to a vast federal enterprise to improve the economic and social resources of the
valley.”23
Roosevelt assigned Morgan the task of selecting the other two directors for the
TVA, stipulating only that one be a southern agriculturist and the other a power man.24
Harcourt Morgan (no relation to Arthur), a Canadian agriculturist who was president of
The University of Tennessee and invested in the farms of the south, was selected as the
agriculturist.
The choice for a power man was a little more difficult, and he sought the opinion
of his friend Edwin Cassells, a trustee of Antioch College and head of a Chicago law
firm. Of his query Morgan writes, “Cassells thought Lilienthal to be quick minded and
vigorous, but said that Lilienthal had overwhelming personal ambitions and that if he
were made a director of the TVA… ΄He will steal the show.΄”25 Others supported this
view.
13
13
Morgan settled on David Lilienthal anyway, the head of the Wisconsin Public
Works Commission. Morgan was hesitant to select him, but did not believe he possessed
the political capital necessary to resist his appointment after having mentioned him to
Roosevelt: “The President is quoted as saying ‘If we could get Lilienthal it would be a
ten-strike.’ It is curious that while the President mentioned several persons for me to look
up, he never mentioned Mr. Lilienthal.”26Others believe that Lilienthal was the man
Roosevelt had in mind all along. As director of the Wisconsin Public Works
Commission, Lilienthal had been appointed by Robert La Follette, a Senator from
Wisconsin. Moley argues “there is no doubt that Senator Robert La Follette was most
influential in pressing his selection on Roosevelt.”27
David Lilienthal was a Harvard educated lawyer who began his career in Chicago.
Starting as a member of a firm that represented labor interests, he quickly moved on to
public power advocacy, securing the interest of the La Follettes who made him the head
of the Wisconsin Public Works Commission.28 Lilienthal was through and through a
power man. His selection would prove disastrous for Arthur Morgan and begs the
question of the purpose behind the TVA. If Roosevelt was really insistent on his role as a
director then the true nature of the TVA returns to power rather than multi-purpose
development. If nothing else, it made consensus among the directors of the TVA difficult,
a fact that was readily apparent.
From the very first meeting of the TVA’s board of directors there were
difficulties, “Morgan and Lilienthal struck discordant notes when they first discussed
power politics. How ominous this was for their future relationship could hardly be
determined at the time.”29 Their relationship was never a positive one. Morgan was
concerned with social and regional development, and Lilienthal with power.
The third director, Harcourt Morgan, was concerned only with agriculture and
Lilienthal cultivated a special relationship with him, which he turned to his advantage.30
So it happened that on almost every issue Arthur Morgan was ranged on one side with
Lilienthal and Harcourt Morgan on the other. When Arthur Morgan petitioned the
President not to reappoint Lilienthal the President initially agreed, but reversed his
decision at the insistence of La Follette, ever Lilienthal’s advocate and defender.
After these difficulties and the reappointment of Lilienthal in 1937, Morgan’s
time on the TVA’s board of directors had drawn to a close, “In 1938 Roosevelt demanded
and secured the resignation of Arthur Morgan, for practical purposes Lilienthal ran the
show.”31 With the removal of Morgan, all the barriers to Lilienthal’s objectives were
removed and he was free to expand the power development of the TVA. With his firing
“the TVA was mainly about generating subsidized electrical power….”32 Morgan
concurs, “To Mr. Lilienthal’s mind I was the obstacle to his establishing personal control
of the TVA; therefore, it was essential that I be eliminated.”33 Now, Norris’s original
goals for the TVA would be realized, as power production again became the primary
focus of the TVA.
Power and electricity were the goals in George Norris’s mind when he fought off
the private industries attempting to gain control of the Wilson Dam in the twenties, and
these were the words that David Lilienthal was familiar with. Even before 1938, the TVA
was trending towards a focus on power, as even Morgan admitted: “Electric power and
fertilizer production took prominence in the active interests of the TVA, and the
construction of dams tended to be of interest, primarily for those purposes.”34 Upon
Morgan’s removal, Lilienthal was free to develop power production as he saw fit even at
14
14
the cost of the other prescribed goals of the TVA. The “Flood control and navigation,
national defense, even cheap fertilizer are the incidentals, TVA is power.”35
The issue, however, was creating a market for power. Prior to the creation of the
TVA, only 3 percent of farms in the valley region had electricity, and farmers were
overwhelmingly impoverished; yet, the “TVA’s success depended upon selling
electricity.”36 To this end Lilienthal established the Electric Home and Farm Authority.
The Electric Home and Farm Authority (EHFA) was an organization created by
the TVA in 1936 to stimulate the sales of electric appliances and, as a result, power. The
organization provided financing for farmers to buy appliances on credit and worked with
General Electric to manufacture and design appliances.37 For General Electric and other
appliance companies this amounted to free advertising, and it allowed them to make sales
they otherwise would never have made to people who would not be able to afford the
products.38
While it may seem as if this was a part of the economic and social development
of the region, it actually served only to drive power sales. There were many who believed
that an excess of power already existed in the region, “utility executives argued that there
would be no market for the power TVA dams would produce.”39 Others claimed, “The
region already had at least 30 percent excess power capacity.”40 The TVA, including
even Morgan, argued that the problem was not too much power but rather too little use of
it, contending: “We believe that there is not a surplus of power. We believe that there is
an under consumption of power, and so we are trying to stimulate the use of electric
power.”41
Economics dictate that the market will drive demand. If something is needed then
more will be produced. There is no such thing as an under consumption of power. This is
simply a case of the government, through the TVA, inventing needs for the consumer.
Gregory Field says it well, “By increasing sales of refrigerators and other goods through
the EHFA, Lilienthal sought to form a political economy of mass consumption.”42 This is
the role the EHFA played. The EHFA extended credit to the farmers to stimulate the
consumption of power, for without power the TVA was nothing.
The importance of the power program to the TVA was evidenced by the major
shift in production that occurred in 1939. Up until this time the source of their power was
hydroelectric— it was simply an “incidental” of the dams. That, at least, was the
argument. However, the construction of dams that provided power was actually
detrimental to the region: “… If Congress decided that flood control was desirable in the
Tennessee Valley, low single-purpose dams would be more effective and economical
than high multi-purpose dams, for high dams would flood some 600,000 acres of good
farm and timber land.”43 In practice, the construction of TVA dams “… seems to have
deliberately flooded more acres than have gained some protection from natural floods.”44
Multi-purpose dams were in many ways counter-productive. The idea of multipurpose development involved contradictory measures. It was simply a means to an end,
the end being power. In fact, the economic growth of areas similar to the Tennessee
Valley that did not get their power from the TVA “equaled or surpassed growth within
the Tennessee Valley”45 (emphasis in original).
Morgan’s selection as director initially implied that the focus of the TVA would
be diverse and consider the needs of the area as a whole, but the selection of Lilienthal
changed the nature of the project. Whether this was always Roosevelt’s intention is
difficult to discern but it was clear that as time progressed power won out, through the
1515
removal of Arthur Morgan, the creation of the EHFA, and the construction of steam
plants. After 1939 the TVA began to construct steam plants to produce power. The
“incidental” production was no longer enough for their desires. Steam power quickly
supplanted hydroelectric power as the primary source, as the TVA produced 70 percent
of its power in coal burning plants by 1956.46
How does an organization go from being for multi-purpose regional development
into operating steam plants for the sole purpose of producing power? Why does this
occur? With power the primary goal of the TVA the other things in the act had to serve
some purpose.
If power truly was the singular goal of the TVA then why was the idea of multipurpose development ever suggested? The answer can be found in an examination of the
constitutionality of the TVA. In the twenties, Norris tried to establish public control of
power production in the region eight times and met with failure on each occasion.
Though there are many reasons for his failures, one that demands attention was the
resistance to government corporations. Direct government control of industry was a new
realm for the government until the Depression. However, “Starting with the Hoover
Administration and reaching a fast pace early in the present Roosevelt Administration
there occurred a mushroom growth of governmental corporations.”47 Prior to this time
period, there was a great resistance to government corporations, but with the advent of
the Depression there was a greater push for the government to take direct action. The
resulting corporations were justified under one or several clauses of the Constitution—
National Defense, Commerce, Fiscal Affairs, and the General Welfare clause.
The TVA was justified primarily under National Defense and the Regulation of
Commerce clause. The power plants at Muscle Shoals were the result of an effort to
provide the nation with nitrates for munitions. Excess power generated could be disposed
of as the government saw fit. The government could also generate power incidentally
through dam construction for navigation. “The government can sell surplus power
produced as an incident to its control over navigation (interstate commerce). And
government corporations could be created to dispose of the surplus power.”48
The idea of multi-purpose development allowed the TVA to be created whereas if
its alleged mission had been simply power production it never would have been
successful. The Act did not require the government to do anything towards multi-purpose
development; it simply enabled its passage, allowing the government to produce and sell
power. The precedent of Arizona V. California established this in a case regarding the
construction of dams; “Arizona… alleged that the recital in the act that its purpose was
the improvement of navigation was a subterfuge. The court said that it would not inquire
into the motives of the legislators in passing the bill.”49
In addition, United States V. Carolene Products established that the Supreme
Court would presume the constitutionality of economic legislation based on the
“assumption that it rests upon some rational basis within the knowledge and experience
of the legislators.”50 This precedent provided a blank check to the legislature and assured
the TVA being upheld as Constitutional on those grounds.
The question of the legality of the TVA was raised and the United States District
Court of Alabama declared it unconstitutional. The primary reason for this decision was
that the court believed the TVA involved more than just the sale of surplus power
produced incidentally by its functions of facilitating navigation, controlling floods, or
producing nitrates. Instead, the TVA was in “the general business of producing and
16
16
selling electric power as its primary function” and was “merely acting as a primary
utility.”51
The Supreme Court of the United States overturned this view, stating that the sale
of power by the TVA did not violate the Constitution. It was not a monopoly and had
every right to compete with the private corporations in the sale of its power.52 With this
ruling the TVA was given the opportunity to pursue business as usual and expand as they
saw fit. Many scholars disagree with this decision on various grounds. For some it is the
question of monopoly that raises problems, as Aaron Wildavsky states: “The point is that
power plants and distribution systems are monopolies— only one can serve a given
locality.”53 Indeed, even Lilienthal seemed to believe the TVA was a monopoly:
The resurgent depression of 1937-1938 strengthened Wall Street demands
that TVA relent in its competition with private power and allow utilities to
raise capital for expansions and improvements. Lilienthal retorted that
investors preferred monopoly: whose monopoly would prevail— the
holding companies or the governments?54
Others argue that the general welfare clause of the Constitution was being
misinterpreted and that the founders did not believe that it gave the government power to
“legislate generally for the national welfare… this theory would provide almost unlimited
possibilities for the creation of government corporations… it has little support in history
or in the language of the clause itself.”55
It was evident from a study of Norris’s proposals that a corporation created solely
for the sale of power would not be successfully passed. It was only through the addition
of multi-purpose objectives that enabled the TVA to be formed and deemed
constitutional. This loophole was found and exploited for the purpose of power
production.
With the TVA so successful in producing power and with the stamp of approval
from the Supreme Court, why were there no other TVA’s? Originally Roosevelt, Norris,
Morgan, and Lilienthal saw it as one of many that would spread across the country.
Roosevelt said, “If we are successful here we can march on step by step, in a like
development of other great natural territorial units within our borders.”56 Norris
proposed, “Enough TVA’s to cover the entire country.”57 Morgan believed “The
Tennessee Valley is not the only place in America where apparently all the factors of
prosperity are present without the prosperity.”58
Part of the reason the TVA is a singular institution can be attributed to the sheer
magnitude of the task and its exorbitant cost. Between 1933 and 1939 the TVA spent
somewhere in the neighborhood of 700 million dollars. The exact cost is difficult to
ascertain due to the different sources of income.59
Additionally, other governmental agencies were beginning to fear the TVA would
replace them. The Department of Agriculture, the Army Corps of Engineers, and the
Nuclear Regulatory Commission all realized that “Little TVA’s” duplicated pre-existing
government roles.”60
Finally, unlike with the TVA, there was no initial motivating factor as there had
been in Muscle Shoals.61 These things all contributed to the collapse of Roosevelt’s
dream.
17
17
The purpose of legislation is often difficult to determine. The impact a bill will
have is not always easy to discern from within the chambers of Congress. Unintended
consequences do occur, they are a part of any legislation. However, the TVA’s
emergence as a major producer and distributor of power was no accident. Hidden
amongst a grand experiment in regional development was the opportunity for the
government to deal in power, to become a utility company. It was, in fact, the purpose of
the TVA from the beginning. Power was always the goal. Though Roosevelt was
ultimately not successful in establishing “Little TVA’s” across the country, in the
Tennessee Valley the legacy of the TVA stands to this day.
ENDNOTES
1John Preston Hubbard, Origins of the TVA; the Muscle Shoals Controversy, 1920-1932
(Nashville: Vanderbilt University Press, 1961), 1.
2 Richard Lowitt, George W. Norris: The Persistence of a Progressive 1913-1933
(Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1971), 198.
3
1973), 8.
4
Marguerite Cunliffe-Owen. The Tennessee Valley Authority (New York: Praeger,
Lowitt, George W. Norris, 22.
Jim Powell, FDR’s Folly: How Roosevelt and his New Deal prolonged the Great
Depression (New York: Three Rivers Press 2003), 141.
5
324.
6
7
Raymond Moley, The First New Deal (New York: Harcourt, Brace, and World, 1966),
Ibid., 325.
8 Burton W. Folsom Jr., New Deal or Raw Deal?: How FDR’s economic legacy has
damaged America (New York: Threshold Editions, 2008), 101.
9
Moley, The First New Deal, 323.
10
11
12
1974), 2.
Powell, FDR’s Folly, 144.
Cunliffe-Owen, The Tennessee Valley Authority, 4.
Arthur Morgan, The Making of the TVA (Buffalo, New York: Prometheus Books,
13 Jordan A. Schwarz, The New Dealers: Power Politics in the Age of Roosevelt (New
York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1993), 226.
18
18
14 Arthur E. Morgan, “Social Methods of the Tennessee Valley Authority” Journal of
Educational Sociology 8, no. 5 (Jan. 1935): 67.
15 Arthur Morgan, “Purposes and Methods of the Tennessee Valley Authority” Annals of
the American Academy of Political and Social Science 172 (Mar. 1934):52.
16
17
Moley, The First New Deal, 326.
Ibid., 328.
18 Edgar Eugene Robinson , The Roosevelt Leadership 1933-1945 (Philadelphia: J.B.
Lippincott and Company, 1955), 157.
19
20
Morgan, The Making of the TVA, 5.
Schwarz, The New Dealers, 217.
21 Arthur E. Morgan. “The Tennessee Valley Authority” The Scientific Monthly 38, no. 1
(Jan. 1934): 64.
22
23
24
25
26
27
Ibid.
Moley, The First New Deal, 327-328.
Morgan, The Making of the TVA, 20.
Ibid., 22.
Ibid., 24.
Moley, The First New Deal, 332.
28 David Lilienthal, The Journals of David E. Lilienthal: Volume 1: The TVA Years,
1939-1945 (New York: Harper & Row, 1964), 17.
29 North Callahan, TVA: Bridge over Troubled Waters (South Brunswick and New York:
A.S. Barnes and Company, 1980), 90.
30
31
32
33
34
Morgan, The Making of the TVA, 28.
Moley, The First New Deal, 333.
Powell, FDR’s Folly, 146.
Morgan, The Making of the TVA, 173.
Ibid., 99.
19
19
35
36
Schwarz, The New Dealers, 220.
Ibid., 237.
37 Gregory B. Field, “Electricity for All”: The Electrical Home and Farm Authority and
the Politics of Mass Consumption, 1932-1935 The Business History Review 64, no. 1 (Spring
1990): 33.
38
Ibid., 40.
39 William E. Leuchtenburg, “Roosevelt, Norris, and the “Seven Little TVAs” The
Journal of Politics 14, no. 3 (Aug. 1963): 55.
40 Gregory B. Field, “Electricity for All”:The Electrical Home and Farm Authority and
the Politics of Mass Consumption, 1932-1935” The Business History Review 64, no. 1 (Spring
1990): 33. http://www.jstor.org/stable3115844 (accessed October 3, 2011).
41
42
43
44
45
Morgan, “Purposes and Methods of the Tennessee Valley Authority,” 56.
Field, “Electricity for All,” 33.
Moley, The First New Deal, 329.
Powell, FDR’s Folly, 151.
Ibid., 148.
46 Aaron Wildavsky, “TVA and Power Politics” The American Political Science Review
55, no. 3. (Sep. 1961): 579.
47 Maurice S. Culp, “Creation of Government Corporations by the National Government”
Michigan Law Review 33, no. 4. (Feb. 1935): 474-475.
48
Ibid., 493-494.
49 Saul N. Rittenberg, “Legality of the Federal Tennessee Valley Program,” The Journal
of Land and Public Utility Economics 11, no. 2 (Sept. 1935):212.
50
51
52
53
54
55
United States V. Carolene Products, Page 304 U.S. 152.
Rittenberg, “Legality of the Federal Tennessee Valley Project, 210-211.
Tennessee Elec. Power Co. V. TVA (1939).
Wildavsky, “TVA and Power Politics,” 590.
Schwarz, The New Dealers, 233.
Culp, “Creation of Government Corporations by the National Government,” 503-506.
20
20
56
57
58
Leuchtenburg, “Roosevelt, Norris, and the “Seven Little TVAs,” 418.
Ibid.
Morgan, “Purposes and Methods of the Tennessee Valley Authority,”52.
59 W. V. Howard, Authority in TVA Land (Kansas City, Missouri: Frank Glenn Publishing
Company, 1948), 40-41.
60
61
Leuchtenburg, “Roosevelt, Norris, and the “Seven Little TVAs,” 428.
Cunliffe-Owen, The Tennessee Valley Authority, 235.
Sepoy Rebellion of 1857: The Rising Discontent
ByOF
Amanda
Sickman
SEPOY REBELLION
1857: THE
RISING DISCONTENT
By Amanda Sickman
The Sepoy Rebellion of 1857 began as a military mutiny. But the sentiments
which the sepoy’s violent actions expressed were not mere military grievances, but
concerns shared by much of the civilian population. The events of 1857 were primarily a
reaction to growing British power and with it, westernization.1 The rebellion consisted of
the native people’s response to perceived threats to their social, cultural, and religious
way of life, and they felt no shortage of reasons to be discontent.
Sepoys, natives of India in European military service, were first introduced into
the service of the English during the latter half of the eighteenth century. At the time, the
English were beginning to engage in fighting with both Indian princes and the French for
control in south-east India. Very few lower-class Europeans were willing to travel to the
East and serve as common soldiers. The need for men still existed, and as a result, men
had to be found among the native population. With the enticement of regular pay before
them, many Indians entered into the army.2 As the East India Trading Company’s
designs in India spread across the region, they maintained this reliance on the sepoys for
military man power, and indeed, the majority of the Company’s military was formed by
Indian sepoys.3
For many years this relationship continued without any major friction as the
Indians demonstrated themselves to be every bit capable of learning Western army ways.4
But as England began to pursue a more aggressive agenda in India, the population began
to feel alienated and threatened by her imperialistic presence.
Benjamin Disraeli, then leader of the opposition party in the House of Commons,
delivered a speech two months after the outbreak of violence addressing what he saw to
be the prime causes of the rebellion. He pointed to three main issues under which all
problems fell: forcible destruction of native authority, disturbance of the settlement of
property, and tampering with the religion of the people.5
England was clearly not in India to benefit the native peoples but rather to turn a
profit and increase the wealth and power of Britain. Some of this attitude can likely be
attributed to a sense of racism, though it is important to note that not all Englishmen
looked upon Indians as a lesser race.6 Nonetheless, the economic activities of the East
India Trading Company were decidedly biased against the natives. England dominated
inland trade in the country, and natives who wished to participate in this trade were
subjected to inland duties.7 The East India Trading Company also positioned itself to be
a powerful monopolist over the trade of the most valuable merchandise, including indigo
dye and cloth.8 Even those goods which the Indians were permitted to trade were taxed
by the English through customs, stamp fees, and taxes on profits. In addition to the
economic difficulties of a native Indian tradesman, there existed a risk of imprisonment.
The issuance of a complaint against a tradesman was enough cause to have him
imprisoned.9
The native artisans were also deprived of work because of the presence of the
English and their trade in India. English traders not only dealt in Indian goods but
utilized the colony as a market for their own English goods. While a profitable scheme
for the English, this robbed many native people of their livelihoods by rendering their
services and skills unnecessary.10 This class of artisans which found their livelihoods
threatened included weavers, carpenters, and blacksmiths among others.
In the administration of government, the English made many alterations which
were effected with the simple intention of improving efficiency and removing corruption.
21
21
22
22
But ways which struck the British as backward and in need of change were in some cases
simply a way of life for the native peoples. To the native Indians, the British way of
administration was not only foreign and unfamiliar but disliked because of its largely
impersonal nature.11 The English officials were inaccessible to the natives who wished to
address their grievances, and even if they had been accessible, the differences of
language and customs would have been prohibitive of clear communication. Also, the
Indians were largely cut off by the political system as they were not permitted to enter the
legislative and administrative branches of government.12
Those Indians in the military had their own set of grievances, as in many ways the
sepoys were not regarded as equal to their British counterparts. Their opportunities for
advancement were severely limited; native Indians were only permitted to serve as
common soldiers or junior officers. Even these junior officers, however, were subject to
even the lowest English officer. The insult suggested by this ordering of rank was felt
keenly by the sepoys, some of whom yearned to make a career out of the military but
could not. Regardless of merit they were only allowed to advance so far. The sepoys
also received a lower salary and, in many instances, the European corps were provided
with superior lodging and food. 13
This lack of respect for the native soldiers extended to civil servants as well.
Indians, regardless of their merit, were given little to no real influence in their positions.
In a proclamation issued in August of 1857 it was emphatically stated that, “all posts of
dignity and emolument…[are] bestowed on Englishmen.”14 Indeed the chances for
advancement in government were as severely limited as advancement in the military.
England was looking for ways to increase the revenue of her dominions. In a
Minute of Council it was boldly stated that this would be achieved through an increase in
the dominions themselves. This method was employed with the annexation of Sattara.
The rajah of Sattara had passed away without any natural heirs. Under Hindu custom, a
man with no biological heirs could select an heir to carry on the family and inherit the
land along with all the rights of a biological heir. The rajah of Sattara, as he neared his
death, had selected an heir. The chosen heir was recognized by the natives, and he took
his place as successor. This law of adoption, however, was then abolished by the
Governor General of India. He refused to recognize this selected heir of Sattara’s and
instead ordered troops to enter the Raj. As a result of this action, the Rajah was then
absorbed into the dominion of the East India Company.15
This tradition of adoption was not limited to princes and the wealthy. Thus, when
this law of adoption was abolished, it struck at every class of Hindu people. Any man
with landed property who professed the Hindu religion but did not have a direct heir
could, upon his death, have his property taken under direct English control.16
The English government also looked for additional revenue in the resumption of
estates. In India large portions of the land were tax free. This was not an inconsiderable
exemption as the land tax was a fair sized tax. In many cases this exemption was
guaranteed by a grant that extended far back into history. The English government
organized Commissions of Inquiry into the freehold property of India and began its
resumption of estates, generating considerable revenue in the process.17
Another action of the English disturbed the Indians, particularly those of the
upper classes. When Britain had come into India native princes were frequently left in
place, but with a reduced degree of authority. They and the nobility were granted
pensions by the English, as were their heirs, chief dependents, and ministers. These were
a vast benefit as they lasted in many cases for generations and extended beyond the
23
23
individual. The English, however, eventually switched these pensions to simple personal
annuities. The native prince or noble would still receive a payment while he lived, but
this left descendents, often of ancient and powerful families, in a difficult situation. They
no longer had the power and prestige they once possessed and no longer could claim any
promise of income.18
Religion was another fiery piece of the discussion surrounding the outbreak of
violence. Some in England were apt to point to the flow of missionaries and blame them
for creating religious discontent, and thereby, causing the revolt. Disraeli and others
were quick to disclaim this accusation. The Charter of 1813 had allowed for an
unrestricted flow of Christian missionaries into India, but much of the most active work
of the missionaries was accomplished during times of peace and contentment in India. 19
Disraeli also pointed to the fact that even before the English were present in India,
Roman Catholics had already established missions within India. The missionaries were
not a new presence and had existed peacefully there for years prior to 1857; there was no
evidence that their presence was a cause of the revolt.
Religion itself, however, was very much an issue. The Hindu people of India
were remarkably open to religious and theological discussion. Their education was
conducted in such a manner as to encourage an inquisitive nature in regard to theological
questions. A missionary with whom they could discuss these questions was therefore no
danger to the Hindu man. The joining of a religious agenda to governmental political
power was the real threat.20
These fears were not unfounded, either. A national system of education had been
established in India, and within these schools the Bible had begun to make an appearance.
Not unreasonably, this was connected to perceived aims of the English to convert all the
Indians to Christianity.
Religious conflict was also fueled by particular pieces of lawmaking carried out
by the Legislative Council of India. One such law stated that no man who changed his
religion was to be denied his inheritance because of his altered religious profession. This
greatly troubled the Indians because men who inherited property were seen as trustees of
the land for sacred purposes. A man who turned away from his people’s traditional faith
could no longer carry out that purpose.21
Another act of the Legislative Council granted Hindu widows the right to marry a
second husband. This was not an accepted practice of the Hindu faith and so this act was
viewed with outrage. Not only were the Hindus upset by British actions during this time
period, those of the Muslim faith soon realized that their traditions and ways of life were
under attack as well. The presence and use of cartridges in the military greased with fat
from cows and pigs was equally upsetting to the two faiths as cows were considered
sacred to the Hindus and pigs deemed unclean by the Muslims.22 The suspicions
surrounding these cartridges would eventually spark the flame of revolt.
This disregard for the rights of the Muslims was also demonstrated in a startlingly
clear fashion when the English government annexed Oude. A king had been left in place
by the English, and a treaty was signed between the two. The English, despite the king’s
presence on the throne, declared the throne vacant and moved in with troops to seize it.
All sorts of items belonging to the king and his family were taken, including furniture and
jewels. Additionally, the Royal treasury was ransacked by the invading British. It was
this brash action that clearly set in the Mahomedan princes’ minds that the British were
not seeking to alter the ways of life of only the Hindus. The position or property of a
24
24
Muslim could just as quickly be taken as from a Hindu; they had no special privileges
which were honored by the English.
This alienation of the Muslim princes also served to bind together in common
sympathy two traditional opponents, the Hindus and the Muslims. They were different in
many ways besides their religion, and thus, traditionally had not looked on the other
kindly, but English actions gave them a common cause and fear.23
By this one action, the annexation of Oude, the English also alienated another
population: the common people of Oude who served in the army. Nearly 70,000 men
from the region of Oude served in the English Indian armies and contingents. The
Bengal Army in particular included a large proportion of men from Oude. When this
land was absorbed by the East India Trading Company, the effects on these common
soldiers were far-reaching and life changing.
The man from Oude now found his property subject to the revenue system of
India and thus he suffered financially. Also, any political privileges he had once enjoyed
were now gone. His home village now belonged to the Company.24
With so much cause for discontent it seems remarkable that the English did not
perceive this alienation of the native peoples and seek to remedy it before it turned
violent. Some of the signs which revealed that discontent was spreading were not
understood by the English until after the revolt broke out.25 The natives began expressing
themselves as a unified group. Messengers were passing from village to village
delivering pancakes made of wheaten flour known as “chupatties.” Once delivered, the
messenger would instruct the receiver to bake more and pass them on to other villages
with the same message. Among the military a lotus flower was delivered to the chief
soldier of a regiment. The flower was then passed from hand to hand throughout the
regiment until it reached the last soldier who then delivered it to another regiment. 26
The English were unaware of the depth of Indian unrest so, on May 10, 1857 the
11th and 20th Bengal Native Infantry broke into open revolt. 27 At Meerut eighty-five
sepoys had been punished with a sentence of ten years’ imprisonment for their refusal to
use the cartridges supposedly greased with cow and pig fat. The following day, incited
by this punishment, the other sepoys rose up, released the prisoners, and then made off
for Delhi.28 The city was undefended and easily taken by the rebel force. The rebels then
lifted up the Mughal Emperor Bahadur Shah as their leader. He was the last of the
Mughal rulers whose former dynasty had fallen out of any real power.29 He was aged
and slow to take up such a position, but his mere presence as a symbol of the past empire
was enough to bolster the rebellion.
The rebellion spread throughout the North-west of India and Oude infectiously.
In many cases men who had been unsure of revolt were at the last moment swept up in
the whirlwind.30 Many regions descended into anarchy, and English civil servants, no
longer protected by the army, were forced to flee.31 But despite the wide geographic
spread of the rebellion, not all of India turned against the English; the Punjab and Bengal
remained loyal.
The rebellion lasted only a year until it was finally put down. The British were
simply unwilling to relent, and the sepoys lacked a leader to coordinate their efforts.
Though it was of short duration, some of the violence which occurred was truly horrific
in nature. Women and children were subjected to the violence as well as the men, and
many were killed in the fighting.32 A notable example of this indiscriminate violence is
the events which transpired at Cawnpore. European women and children from the area
and surrounding districts were captured and imprisoned in a building in Cawnpore. They
25
25
were then maimed and killed both by musket and sword. The following morning their
bodies were disposed of in a dry well. It was reported that some individuals were still
miserably clinging to life when they were so inhumanly disposed of with the dead. 33
These violent crimes were not only perpetrated by the Indians; both sides were guilty of
bloodthirsty actions. Lord Canning himself, the Governor-General of India, commented
in a letter to Queen Victoria that the Europeans in India showed a, “rabid and
indiscriminate vindictiveness.”34
In 1860 Sir Syed Ahmad Khan reflected on the causes of discontent and rebellion
in India. He recognized that the permanence and prosperity of the government in India
was dependent on knowledge of the customs, manners, and hopes of the people. But this
knowledge of the people, he argued, could not be obtained without allowing the people to
participate in the administration of the government. Then their true feelings could be
known and any grievances given voice.35
Indeed, in many instances the English had neglected to truly understand the
people they were dealing with. While they pursued their intentions for India with great
zeal, they ignored the customs of the people and as a result alienated the Indians from
themselves. If more sensitivity had been practiced, perhaps the rebellion could have been
avoided.
At the conclusion of the rebellion, it became evident that changes were needed in
the country’s dealings with India. The East India Trading Company’s power in the
region had grown exceedingly great and they were no longer a mere trade organization.
Though their activities were already largely watched over by the English government, the
rebellion signaled that it was time for the government to assume full control of the East
India Company’s activities. On August 2, 1858 Queen Victoria signed the act placing the
responsibility of governing India under the crown.
Within the Act a proclamation was included which offered amnesty to all those
who had rebelled, excluding those who had been directly involved in the killing of British
subjects. In order to encourage the remaining rebels to make a decision, this amnesty
was given a deadline; it would only be available until the first of the year 1859.36 The
proclamation had its effect, and the majority of those who had still been fighting at the
time of its issuance soon put down their arms.37
Lord Canning was the last man to serve as governor-general for the East India
Company and would be the first to take up the title of viceroy of the Queen. Finally, in
July of 1859, he would announce that the end of the mutiny was at hand, “War is at an
end; Rebellion is put down…Order is re-established; and peaceful Pursuits have
everywhere been resumed.”38
As the rebellion had neared a close it had come time to consider specifically what
would be changed in the structure of the military to prevent such a revolt from recurring.
Adding to the complexity of this question was the reality of unrest among the white
troops in India. Now no longer company soldiers, but soldiers of the Queen, many men
wanted the chance to be discharged. Or, if they chose to re-enlist as one of the Queen’s
forces, they wanted to receive a bounty. But the government in England initially ignored
all such requests, and discontent pervaded the white troops in India. After a change of
government in England, the issue was finally recognized and responded to: both soldiers
and non-commissioned officers could be discharged if they so desired, and transportation
would even be provided back to England. Yet, there were conditions attached to this
offer. Any man who requested a discharge would never be allowed to re-enlist in an
26
26
Indian regiment.39 This was a condition most men were willing to accept, and eventually
10,116 men out of 15,000 returned to England after being discharged.40
After dealing with the white troops still in India, it was still necessary to redesign
the Indian portion of the military forces. It was decided that the proportion of Indians to
whites within the military was to be maintained at or below two to one. Artillery was
also taken completely out of the Indians hands and was thenceforth only placed under
English regiments.
The Bengal Army, which had been the perpetrator of the revolt, was cut down in
size by about half, with its total number of regiments reduced from 146 to 72. The other
armies were also cut down, and numbers were reduced within each regiment. Even with
all the reductions and precautions, the English remained in a situation of dependence on
the Indians, and their relationship would continue to be characterized by caution all the
way to the day the Indians were granted their independence in the mid twentieth century.
ENDNOTES
1
Robert Carr, “Concession & Repression: British Rule in India 1857-1919,” History
Review (Sep 2005), under “Beginning,”
http://cc2.ucumberlands.edu:2512/ehost/detail?sid=f20826e7-e2be-42ff-a11eaf476ada1977%40sessionmgr115&vid=11&hid=114&bdata=JnNpdGU9ZWhvc3QtbGl2ZQ%3d
%3d#db=aph&AN=18772191 (accessed April 3, 2011).
2
G.J. Bryant, “Indigenous Mercenaries in the Service of European Imperialists: The Case
of the Sepoys in the Early British Indian Army, 1750-1800,” War in History 7 (Jan 2000), under
“I,” http://cc2.ucumberlands.edu:2512/ehost/detail?sid=ea10dc90-9a58-4981-9a44b65d5cd12d29%40sessionmgr113&vid=4&hid=115&bdata=JnNpdGU9ZWhvc3QtbGl2ZQ%3d
%3d#db=aph&AN=270028 (accessed March 21, 2011).
3
Gavin Rand, “‘Martial Races’ and ‘Imperial Subjects’: Violence and Governance in
Colonial India, 1857–1914,” European Review of History 13 (Mar 2006), under “Introduction,”
http://cc2.ucumberlands.edu:2512/ehost/pdfviewer/pdfviewer?sid=f20826e7-e2be-42ff-a11eaf476ada1977%40sessionmgr115&vid=11&hid=114 (accessed February 12, 2011 ).
4
Barua Pradeep, Gentlemen of the Raj: The Indian Army Officer Corps, 1817-1949
(Westport, CT: Greenwood Publishing Group, 2003),
http://library.acaweb.org/search~S3?/Yindia+1857&searchscope=3&SORT=DZ/Yindia+1857&s
earchscope=3&SORT=DZ&extended=0&SUBKEY=india%201857/1,19,19,B/i8565284280&FF
=Yindia+1857&8,8,%2C1%2C0 (accessed February 12, 2011 ).
5
Ainslie T. Embree, 1857 in India: Mutiny or War of Independence (Boston: D.C.
Heath and Company, 1963), 4-7.
6
Michael J. Turner, “’Raising up Dark Englishmen’: Thomas Perronet Thompson,
Colonies, Race, and the Indian Mutiny,” Journal of Colonialism and Colonial History 6 (Spring
2005), http://cc2.ucumberlands.edu:2166/journals/journal of colonialism and colonial_ history/
v006/6.1turner.html (accessed April 12, 2011).
27
27
7
Ramesh Chandra Majumdar, The Sepoy Mutiny and the Revolt of 1857, 2 ed. (Calcutta:
Firma K. L. Mukhopadhyay, 1963), 22-29.
8
Embree, 1857 in India, 1-3.
9
Ibid.
10
Ibid.
11
Majumdar, The Sepoy Mutiny, 22-29.
12
Ibid.
13
Ibid, 29-40.
14
Embree, 1857 in India,1-3.
15
Ibid.
16
Ibid.
17
Ibid, 7-8.
18
Ibid.
19
Majumdar, The Sepoy Mutiny , 22-29.
20
Embree, 1857 in India, 9-10.
21
Ibid.
22
Richard Collier, The Great Indian Mutiny: A Dramatic Account of the Sepoy Rebellion,
(New York: E. P. Dutton & Company, 1964), 24.
23
Embree, 1857 in India, 10-12.
24
Ibid.
25
Ibid.
26
Ibid.
Joseph Coohill, “Indian Voices from the 1857 Rebellion,” History Today 57 (May
2007), under “Timeline,” http://cc2.ucumberlands.edu:2512/ehost/detail?sid=f20826e7-e2be42ff-a11e-af476ada1977%40sessionmgr115&vid=8&hid=114&bdata=JnNpdGU9ZWhvc3
QtbGl2ZQ%3d%3d#db=aph&AN=24957088 (accessed March 5, 2011).
27
28
Thomas R. Metcalf, The Aftermath of Revolt: India, 1857-1870 (Princeton, NJ:
Princeton University Press, 1964), 48.
28
28
29
John H. Waller, “The Siege of Delhi,” Military History 14 (Mar 1998),
http://cc2.ucumberlands.edu:2512/ehost/detail?sid=ea10dc90-9a58-4981-9a44b65d5cd12d29%40sessionmgr113&vid=7&hid=115&bdata=JnNpdGU9ZWhvc3QtbGl2ZQ%3d
%3d#db=aph&AN=194742 (accessed March 21, 2011).
30
Pratul Chandra Gupta, Nana Sahib and the Rising at Cawnpore (Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1963), 68-71.
31
Metcalf, The Aftermath of Revolt, 49.
Andrew Ward, Our Bones Are Scattered: The Cawnpore Massacres and the Indian
Mutiny of 1857 (New York: Henry Holt and Company, 1996), 235.
32
33
Embree, 1857 in India, 34-35.
34
James Leasor, The Red Fort: The Story of the Indian Mutiny of 1857 ( New York:
Reynal & Company, 1957), 94-98.
35
Majumdar, The Sepoy Mutiny, 22-29.
Michael Edwardes, Battles of the Indian Mutiny (New York: Macmillan Company,
1963), 195-202.
36
37
Ibid.
38
Ibid.
39
Ibid.
40
Ibid.