3.12: Benjamin Banneker: Unsung Renaissance Man of America’s Crucial Years

It was a decision that came about during a dinner party…allegedly.  Secretary of State Thomas Jefferson invited Secretary of the Treasury Alexander Hamilton, along with Congressman James Madison, to his quarters in New York City for an evening of food, drink, and conversation, the end result of which was the decision to place the nation’s capital in the geographic south on the Potomac River.  This scenario has become more widely known due to the success of Hamilton!  Not so well-known, although probably familiar to a few who have explored the issue, is the name “Benjamin Banneker,” a man who also assisted in surveying this land.  His talents didn’t stop there: he gained fame as a mathematician, astronomer, and publisher of almanacs prior to his surveying experience. In our final episode of season three, we’ll explore the fascinating story of Benjamin Banneker: Unsung Renaissance Man of America’s Crucial Years.

Key People
Benjamin Banneker
Robert Banneker
Martha Ellicott Tyson
Thomas Jefferson
George Ellicott
Pierre Charles L’Enfant

Key Events/Ideas
Compromise of 1790/Dinner Table Bargain

The third season of History: Beyond the Textbook focuses on the stories of individuals who shaped "America's Crucial Years" of 1783-1790, and runs from October 8-December 24. Catch up on Season One, "America's Colonial Era," and Season Two, "America's Revolution," wherever you listen to your podcasts!

Feel free to contact us with feedback or questions by clicking the "Send Us a Text" link or email us at: hbttpodcast@gmail.com

Transcript

It was a decision that came about during a dinner party…allegedly.  Secretary of State Thomas Jefferson invited Secretary of the Treasury Alexander Hamilton, along with Congressman James Madison, to his quarters in New York City for an evening of food, drink, and conversation, the end result of which was the decision to place the nation’s capital in the geographic south on the Potomac River.  Yes, it’s the historical basis of the song Room Where it Happened from the musical Hamilton!  Much has been rightfully made of the significance of its location, and the fact that its namesake helped survey the land on which this new capital would be constructed.  Not so well-known, although probably familiar to a few who have explored the issue, is the name “Benjamin Banneker,” a man who also assisted in surveying this land.  His talents didn’t stop there: he gained fame as a mathematician, astronomer, and publisher of almanacs prior to his surveying experience.  And he was also born a free man to a free mother and a formerly enslaved father, placing him in a unique position to not only refute burgeoning notions of supposed differences between the races…but address the issue head-on.  In our final episode of season three, we’ll explore the fascinating story of Benjamin Banneker: Unsung Renaissance Man of America’s Crucial Years.

Act I: Dinner Time
Benjamin Banneker would be one of the individuals responsible for surveying the land on which the new national capital would lie, so it’s worth understanding exactly how this capital came to be located between Maryland and Virginia.

As we will see at the start of next season, Alexander Hamilton became Secretary of the Treasury Department in Washington’s administration, and he hit the ground running in his new role.  He issued multiple reports to Congress, all of which evolved into a comprehensive financial program to jump-start, and stabilize, the U.S. economy.  The first of these reports stirred considerable controversy because it included the proposal for the assumption of states’ debts by the federal government; this is a somewhat fancy way of stating that the war debt of each state was to be consolidated into one debt that the federal government would take on, and presumably, pay off.  This irritated members of Congress whose debt had already been retired, mainly the Southern  ones, so they felt that it was unfair that their constituents needed to be taxed to fund the perceived irresponsibility of other states.  There’s obviously more at play, but we’ll accept the explanation because it provides us with two primary enemies: Secretary Hamilton and Congressman James Madison.  By this time, the one-time collaborators of The Federalist Papers were politically drifting apart, Hamilton as leader of the Federalists, and Madison as leader of the developing Democratic-Republicans, who simply went by the name “Republicans.”   Those of Madison’s mindset had no intention of voting for Hamilton’s plan, and Hamilton refused to backdown.  In what has been referred to as both the “Compromise of 1790” and the “Dinner Table Bargain,” Thomas Jefferson invited both men to dine with him at his New York residence, and over a meal prepared by James Hemings, they hashed out a deal: Madison would back off of his opposition to Hamilton’s “Assumption” plan in Congress, and the capital of the young nation would subsequently be located in the geographic south, much to the chagrin of Philadelphians.  As they were distrustful of a national government in principle, they felt that a Southern location would at least allow them to keep an eye on things; they also wanted to freely bring slaves with them without the possibility of emancipation.  As Lin-Manual Miranda eloquently wrote, there is no record of what was stated in “The Room Where It Happened,” but Madison, rescinded his opposition, Assumption became law, and the capital would be located in the South.  Granted, the nation was still one decade from moving operations to this place…but the deal was done, and the nation could look to a new future.

Act II: Banneker’s Backstory
With that bargain, the stage was set to build a capital that, quite frankly would be rather unintimidating for the first 3-4 decades of its existence.  We’ll take this moment to look at what led this free black man to receive an invitation to survey the land for the capital.

Benjamin Banneker was born in November 9, 1731, to a father named Robert who was previously enslaved, and a woman named Mary Banneky, who was born free.  Accounts of Banneker’s genealogy past this point differ, and it illustrates the difficulties in not only determining one’s I, but specifically the ancestry of those with origins in Africa.  Fortunately for historians, there are multiple accounts because he was considered a man of prominence; perhaps the phrase “Great Man” wasn’t used in his day to describe him, but we can certainly use it for our purposes; given his status and reputation, time was taken to investigate his past.  Early biographies mentioned no white lineage, with one biographer claiming that “there was not a drop of white blood in his veins.”  However, more recent scholarship has proposed that Benjamin’s grandmother was an English indentured servant named Mollie Welsh, a woman who, upon the end of her seven-year contract, purchased her own tract of land along with two slaves to work it.  Apparently, one of the slaves was known as Bannaky, and was later called Banneker, and Mollie developed such a fondness for him that upon freeing both individuals, she married Banneker, and their first-born daughter, Mary, would be Benjamin’s mother.  The principal biographer of Benjamin Banneker, Martha Ellicott Tyson, claimed that Mary was “a woman of uncommon intelligence.”  She also appeared to be renowned for her knowledge of herbs and planting, as one biographer writes that she learned about English and West African medicinal cures from both of her parents and became widely respected by her neighbors for the knowledge she possessed.  This was the type of knowledge and heritage that was passed onto her son, Benjamin, the oldest of four children she would have with her husband, Robert.

Admittedly, Benjamin’s early years were shaped by family, and his love of learning.  His father purchased a 120-acre farm that was 10 miles outside of Baltimore upon earning his freedom, and young Benjamin would spend much of his early years learning how to work on, and respect the land, with his father.  This is appropriate because records indicate that the deed to the land was drawn in in Robert and­ Benjamin’s name, demonstrating his father’s commitment to freedom, prosperity, and security for succeeding generations of Bannekers.  Above all else, the youngster appears to have had a passionate love of learning: he learned to read at a young age and attended a neighborhood school to receive a basic education thanks to the influence of the Quakers, who had settled in the region where he lived.  However, as is often the case, the most impressionable education, and potentially the most effective, begins at home, and Robert Banneker took the opportunity to stimulate the mind of young Benjamin.  In the morning, Robert would generally begin the day by providing his son with a riddle of some kind, often related to mathematics, and the boy would contemplate the solution while simultaneously working the land.  Solving the riddle was a joy as Benjamin would sprint to his proud father with the solution, and when the day was done, Benjamin would write with the ink and paper that his father provided to nurture his curiosity.  Accounts indicate that this was when Benjamin was happiest: when he was studying, writing, and reading whatever he could get his hands on, which wasn’t exactly a wide variety of materials, but you do what you can with what you have, and he certainly did so.  When his father unfortunately passed away in 1759, most of the farm fell to Benjamin and his mother, so he continued to till the land while sharpening his mind: this combination of physical and mental fitness would serve him well in the many endeavors in which he would pursue.

Act III: A Man of Science
In terms of his creative and scientific pursuits, Benjamin Banneker borrowed the watch belonging to one of his father’s friends when he was in his early 20’s and took it apart piece by piece.  While he did so, he made detailed sketches of its inner-workings and made notes on how it operated; when he was done, he put everything perfectly back together.  In a later time, Banneker might have tinkered with a ham radio, or the CPU of a home computer…but as it was the 1700’s, he had to settle for a pocket watch as the pinnacle of advanced technology.  Satisfied in the knowledge he gained, he began the process of creating his own clock; yeah, those household items for keeping time that used to hold more value before cell phones secured the job of keeping time.  And we’re talking a complete clock: he found the wood necessary for construction on his family land, and everyday after he was done working on said land, he would accomplish something that would move the proverbial needle towards its completion.  The diligence and patience that Benjamin learned from his father as they farmed together came in handy as he toiled, carved, and created every piece of that clock by hand.  When it was finished, it hung on the wall and accurately told time, which is admittedly what a clock is supposed to do, but this wasn’t created by a master clockmaker, or even an apprentice…it was made by an inquisitive man who loved reading, mathematics, and riddles.  It hung on the wall of his family home and accurately kept the time for about 20 years, and it became a sensation.  It was thought to be the only such clock in the area, and visitors came from miles around to examine the clock and the clockmaker, this free African American man who greeted them, offered them hospitality, and could converse about a multitude of topics.  Most who didn’t know him were simply perplexed by Benjamin Banneker.

One of the more prominent families in the area was the Ellicott family, and their origins as Quakers appear to have given them completely open minds regarding the talents of Benjamin Banneker.  Despite his status as a free man, he was literate, a quality not possessed by every free white man in his area of Maryland, and intelligent, a quality that often aroused suspicion among his neighbors.  The fact that the Ellicotts were willing to accept and work with Benjamin reflected their progressive nature as they moved to the area in the early 1770’s to establish flour mills and additional business enterprises.  By this time, Benjamin was in his 40’s, having lost his father in his late 20’s; Benjamin had understandably taken his father’s death hard, going stretches without even writing observations in his journals, but this was just the thing to help him reclaim his inventive spirit.  The Ellicott operations were mere miles from the Banneker homestead, and Benjamin watched with fascination at the workings of the mill; its technical machinations were a revelation to a man who built a clock from scratch.  He began to frequent the general store that was on the land, talk to the family and visitors, and entertain them with stories of the area.  The Ellicotts were already aware of his reputation due to his clock (again, this thing made him somewhat famous!), and one of the sons, George, struck up a friendship with Banneker.  George was 18 when they first met, and Banneker was in his late 40’s, but they shared intellectual interests, be it mathematical puzzles literature, or astronomy.  This friendship would prove to open up Benjamin’s world, both intellectually and professionally.

On the subject of astronomy, Benjamin Banneker was a little late to the party, dabbling with it in his youth before seriously considering the subject when he was 50.  George Ellicott lent him a telescope for further observations, books on the subject, and instruments to make more precise calculations.  Again, Benjamin showed an interest in the subject in his younger days; he observed Sirius, the brightest star in the sky, and believed that its flashing nature meant that another star was rotating around it.  He was correct, and it wasn’t until 1844 that the scientific community writ large would confirm this, but it serves as another example of a puzzle that he solved based on reason and patient thinking.  In the late 1780’s, when the United States began to operate under the Constitution, Banneker’s intensity regarding astronomy led him to take up the habit of spending his nights staring at the stars.  Literally, the man lay on his back and observed the heavens…all night.  Well, at least into the early morning, at which time he would begin catching up on his sleep.  In 1789, he even calculated a projected solar eclipse: those books that George Ellicott lent him?  He memorized much of their contents and grew so enamored with them that he annotated the books and sent them back to George with suggestions at how they could be improved.  That’s right…the self-taught mathematician and astronomer was fixing the errors of the men who wrote such tomes as Introduction to Astronomy and A Compleat System of Astronomy.  His love of the subject and desire to make accurate calculations available to the masses led him to what was arguably his life’s work: almanac writing.  By now, it’s clear that Banneker is somewhat on par with Benjamin Franklin in terms of their pursuits: both were largely self-taught, both were industrious, entrepreneurial, loved writing, were respected, enjoyed conversation, and the fact that they both would publish almanacs is the tip of the iceberg.  His first attempt would be in 1791, and several publishers rejected him, causing him to recalculate everything for a new year.  Whereas Benjamin Franklin was white, Benjamin Banneker was not, and this dynamic unfortunately made a huge difference in how they were treated in their times and by posterity.

Act IV: Surveying the Landscape
Struggles at publication aside, it’s time to address the focus of Act I: the national capital.  Following the Dinner Bargain, Congress passed the Residence Act in July 1790.  This called for the new federal capital to be constructed along the Potomac River with land that Virginia and Maryland donated for the cause.  The name most closely associated with the planning of the Federal City, later to be called Washington City, and now Washington, D.C., is Pierre Charles L’Enfant.  The Frenchman served in the Continental Army during the Revolution and was even present at Valley Forge in the winter of 1777-1778, making a name for himself as an engineer.  Upon his appointment as a member of the commission to survey the new capital, L’Enfant took it much further when he drew up his Plan of the city intended for the permanent seat of the government of the United States, and though he was dismissed due to his erratic behavior, many of his ideas would come to fruition.  Andrew Ellicott was also a member of this commission, and when his cousin George declined the invitation to serve as his assistant, Benjamin Banneker was recommended for the job.  Andrew had actually seen Banneker’s work on his 1791 almanac and was impressed so much by his mathematical ability that he agreed, despite Banneker’s lack of actual surveying experience.  Banneker learned fast, helping survey the land that would hold the halls of Congress and the White House, among other buildings.  He was paid $2 per day for his service, which was actually not far off base of what most in his position would earn, and he was not the only African-American who worked on these early crews.  Ellicott and L’Enfant refused to utilize slave labor for their work, but one year after the foundations of the city were laid, and after Banneker’s work was done, this would no longer be the case.  A sad irony in a nation that touted itself as a free republic, but a hard reality nevertheless.

As Banneker began his role in the work on the new capital, the Weekly Ledger out of Georgetown made a point of stating, “Benjamin Banneker, an Ethiopian whose abilities as surveyor and astronomer already prove that Mr. Jefferson’s concluding that that race of men were void of mental endowment was without foundation.”  Calling one an “Ethiopian” was a common way to refer to anyone of African origin at the time, but what does this statement actually mean?  It means that Benjamin Banneker was living proof that Thomas Jefferson was incorrect in the assessment he made in his well-known Notes on the State of Virginia.  This was the book in which Jefferson insulted the acclaimed poet Phyllis Wheatly by claiming that her poetry was not all that good, but he insulted African-Americans as a whole in his section on slavery.  In this section, he detailed his belief that slavery as a system was an abomination, and he expressed his regrets at how white people had treated those who were enslaved.  However, in this same section, he explained that he found African Americans inferior, and since it relates to the talents and intellect of Benjamin Banneker, this quote is appropriate, “I (Jefferson) think one could scarcely be found capable of tracing and comprehending the investigations of Euclid.”  This was what the writer in the Weekly Ledger was referring to, and this was written in the 1780’s before Banneker was on Jefferson’s radar.  As he successfully completed his first almanac, Benjamin Banneker sought to directly respond to the Sage of Monticello by not only sending him a copy, but by opening up a dialogue that would challenge Jefferson’s concept of intelligence among the races.  In their back-and-forth correspondence, Banneker would quote Jefferson’s words in the Declaration and Notes to him and take him and the other members of the founding generation to task for allowing slavery to continue.  He was cordial, yet constructive, and was incredibly direct Jefferson appeared to be impressed by how forward Banneker was toward him.  Jefferson even promised to send a copy of the almanac to the Frenchman Marquis de Condorcet, who was secretary of the Academie Royale des Sciences in Paris.  He did so, but unfortunately, this almanac arrived at a time in the French Revolution when Condorcet was forced to flee Paris and died shortly thereafter, so he probably never read it.  Still, Banneker’s words had inspired his work to be analyzed, and eventually, respected for what it was: the result of the efforts of a true scholar and polymath, one who took pains to spread the knowledge that he had painstakingly gained for himself. 

So how does Banneker’s story end, or perhaps, continue?  He kept calculating information for, and publishing, almanacs into the late 1790’s, and he continued to write, read, and observe the world around him.  He would live out his days on the family homestead, and was known to offer the actual fruits of his labor to any who were interested (even if they took more than was considered their fair share).  Gardening was a daily activity for him, as were beekeeping and stargazing, although his habit of laying out under the night sky became less frequent as he grew older.  Banneker died October 9, 1806, one month before he turned 75, so he certainly lived a long, full life.  He never married, and had no children, yet his intellectual achievements certainly stand out as a “legacy” that was passed down.  Self-taught, self-reliant, and self-directed in terms of what he wanted to accomplish and how he went about doing so.  The barriers he faced and overcame due to his race were formidable, but it would be foolish to simply declare that he was an accomplished African-American…he was an accomplished American.  His life straddles the eras of colonialism, Revolutionary zeal, uncertainty during the crucial years, and the excitement that ran rampant during the early years of the republic.  His story bridges all of these gaps, and gives us all a glimmer of hope of what can happen when we all decide to dream a little bigger.

And so ends season three of History: Beyond the Textbook.  We’ve bridged the gap of the crucial years between the American Revolution and the formation of the United States under the new Constitution.  As old problems were solved, new ones were created, and as some things stayed the same during this time frame, obvious changes put the United States down the path to a type of nation that had never been attempted before.  I want to thank all of you for listening these past three seasons, and also to announce that season four, “America’s Federalist Era,” will premiere in October 2025.  The demands of family life, teaching and all of the extracurriculars that accompany it , and running this podcast are extensive, and we want to ensure that the quality of History: Beyond the Textbook remains at a level deserving of you, the listeners.  With that, we’ll take this coming winter and spring to ensure that our quality remains top-notch, and we invite you to join us in October for season four.  In the meantime, on behalf of myself, Alex Mattke, Executive Producer Molly Mattke, and Sound Engineer and Editor Riley Guyette, thanks so much for listening, please tell a friend about us if you like what you hear, send us a message to provide us with feedback, and if you want to learn more about what you’ve learned on the show, head to your local library so you can keep on reading.