Arising in obscure ways, often originating in derision or abuse or satire, sometimes repudiated by those to whom they are applied, at other times adopted in spite of the ridicule, the origin of nicknames is singularly elusive, and there are few words or phrases of which it is more difficult to trace the history. Moreover, nicknames are almost invariably associated in the popular mind with some person or place or thing having a similar name; and so a problem already difficult is made doubly so by the necessity of attempting to obtain information about very obscure persons. The history of nicknames usually follows one general course: those who, at the time of origin, perhaps know the real explanation, fail to record it, and then, a generation or so having passed by and the true origin having been forgotten, a series of guesses is indulged in.
In Yankee, Brother Jonathan, and Uncle Sam, we Americans have perhaps more than our fair share of national sobriquets; and we are, so far as I am aware, the only nation to the government of which a sobriquet has been given in distinction from the people. For while Uncle Sam has occasionally been applied to us as a nation, its use is almost wholly restricted to our government. What has been said above about the popular tendency to connect nicknames with persons is well illustrated in all of our national sobriquets. When the history of Yankee comes to be written, it will be found necessary to consider a famous pirate who was the terror of the Spanish Main in the seventeenth century; a negro who lived in South Carolina in 1725; several members of a family which was well known in Cambridge, Massachusetts, during the eighteenth century; the Yankoos, an imaginary tribe of Indians invented in 1775 for the purpose of explaining a word which then first came into general use in this country; and Yankee as a family name. The history of Brother Jonathan involves an inquiry into an alleged English poet of the seventeenth century; a London coffee-house of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries named Jonathan's; Jonathan Hastings, a tanner who lived in Cambridge early in the eighteenth century; Jonathan Carver, the noted traveller; and Jonathan Trumbull, the distinguished Governor of Connecticut.[1] And in Uncle Sam we are confronted with a similar problem—this time an alleged contractor and inspector named Samuel Wilson, who lived in Troy during the first half of the nineteenth century. The story connecting Uncle Sam with Samuel Wilson first appeared in print, so far as is known, in 1842, and no example of the term earlier than 1840 has until now ever been cited.[2]
Before considering the Samuel Wilson story, let us see what the history of the term Uncle Sam has actually been. For sixty-six years the statement has been repeated that the nickname arose at the outbreak of the war of 1812, varied occasionally by the assertion that the term originated during the Revolutionary War. Both statements are incorrect, as the term is not known to have been used until the war of 1812 was half over; but the nickname certainly did originate during that war.[3] Moreover, for a year or so it was avoided by those who favored the war, and was employed only by those who opposed the war. Hence the term was at first apparently used somewhat derisively. In order to understand how this could have been the case, it will be necessary to glance at some of the manifestations of the war.
We are all so familiar with the causes, events, and consequences of the war of 1812, that it is unnecessary to dwell upon them here; yet some passages from contemporary newspapers will perhaps give us a more vivid impression of the thoughts and feelings engendered by that contest than will the formal writings of learned historians. An editorial note headed with the historic words "Era of Good Feelings," which appeared in the Columbian Centinel of July 12, 1817, began as follows: "During the late Presidential Jubilee many persons have met at festive boards, in pleasant converse, whom party politics had long severed. We recur with pleasure to all the circumstances which attended the demonstrations of good feelings" (p. 2-3). To us of the present day, who take our politics more calmly, it is not easy to understand the furor and turmoil which characterized the war of 1812. But if political warfare nowadays is less abusive and vituperative than it was a century ago, as is certainly the case, yet also it is distinctly less picturesque. Is it possible that in the matter of nicknames, we Americans have lost our inventive capacity? What has there been in the past decade to match "Father of his Country," "Old Hickory," "Mill Boy of the Slashes," "Old Man Eloquent," "Tippecanoe," "Old Bullion," "Rail-splitter," "Plumed Knight," and scores of other sobriquets that will readily occur to all? It is true that the nicknames which were so commonly bestowed during the war of 1812 were chiefly satirical; but on that very account they are the more valuable for our present purpose. In a speech delivered in Congress on January 24, 1812, David R. Williams said: "Sir, I feel a deadly hate against Great Britain. Yes, sir, if the red artillery of Heaven were in my hands, I'd soon drive the fast anchored isle from her moorings."[4] Immediately Williams was nicknamed "Mr. Thunderbolt Williams," "thunder-and-lightning Williams," "Jupiter Williams," "thunder & lightning David;" and his words lingered in the popular mind for fourteen years at least.[5] War with England was declared June 18, 1812. In a proclamation dated June 26, Governor Caleb Strong of Massachusetts spoke of "the nation from which we are descended, and which for many generations has been the bulwark of the religion we profess."[6] At once "the bulwark of our religion" and "Bulwark Strong" became bywords in the war papers.[7] In a speech delivered in Congress on January 5, 1813, Josiah Quincy said:
"An armistice was proposed by them. It was refused by us. It was acceded to by the American general, on the frontiers. It was rejected by the cabinet. . . . They renewed hostilities. They rushed upon Canada. Nothing would satisfy them but blood. The language of their conduct is that of the giant, in the legends of infancy.
Fee, Faw, Foo, Fum,
I smell the blood of an Englishman,
Dead, or alive, I will have some."[8]
The man who later was commemorated by Lowell in an essay entitled "A Great Public Character," was, during the war of 1812, known as "Mr. Fum"[9] or "Orator Fum,"[10] and we read of "the degrading doctrine inculcated by 'fee, fo, fi, fum' federalists."[11] John Adams was "Duke of Braintree"[12] and "Old Brimborion."[13] John Armstrong, who was made Secretary of War in January, 1813, was nicknamed "Duke of Newburgh," in allusion to the famous Newburgh Addresses of 1783.[14] Jefferson was called "Tall Tommy,"[15] "Thomas the Magician,"[16] and "Thomas Conundrum."[17] President Madison was "Little Jemmy,"[18] "King James" or "King Jemmy,"[19] "James the Great,"[20] and "Mundungus,"[21] and was referred to as "James the First Emperor of the Virginians and King of the United States."[22] Timothy Pickering was "Uncle Tim."[23] On November 10, 1812, General Alexander Smyth issued a proclamation,[24] whereupon it was said that "during this time Gen. Proclamation curvetted about."[25] General James Wilkinson was called "Don" or "Don Jamie," in allusion to Don Quixote.[26]
Besides these nicknames applied to persons, there were several epithets which were employed to designate a class. Those who favored the war were called "Wildcats,"[27] "War-dogs,"[28] "War-hirelings,"[29] "War-men,"[30] and "War-sharks,"[31] but the favorite term was "War-hawks." Under the head of "Political Intoxication," the following appeared in the Columbian Centinel of February 19, 1812 (p. 4-1):
"OUR War-Hawks when pot valiant grown,
Could they the British King dethrone,
Would sacrifice a man a day;—
To me the reason's very plain,
Why topers talk in such a strain—
They want a double* Can-a-day.
*Upper and Lower."
"The noisy and vociferous demagogues and war hawks," said the Portland Gazette, "and office hunters in this vicinity, . . . have never once slipt out of their beds of down, or paid a single cent from their pockets, in support of their darling war."[32]