Isaac Barré

Colonel Isaac Barré, 1785, by Gilbert Stuart(Source)

Whilst awaiting the verdict on the results of the state inspection of my automotive conveyance (which I call Big Girl), I ran across a reference to this chap, Isaac Barré, late of His Majesty's Royal Army, Member of Parliament and the namesake of the town of Barre (pronounced the same as the name Barry) in my home state of Vermont. A town which I have visited on a couple of occasions and, to be quite honest, got quite drunk in, once upon a time.

The reference was in the most excellent book, Almost A Miracle by John Ferling, a history of the American Revolution. An event unique in human history for the fact that those who nurtured revolution against the mother country, and those who led it, were not later overthrown by others. Robespierre was a light of the French Revolution, he died by its hand. The original Russian Revolution was co-opted by Lenin and others and doomed the Russian people to some seventy-odd years of agony. (Not saying they've got it good now, but no one can argue that Putin is not an improvement over Stalin.)

Anyhoo, Colonel Barré coined the term Sons of Liberty and was emphatically against the Crown waging war upon the 13 Colonies. One of my favorite things about the good colonel is that some in Parliament bemoaned the ingratitude of the colonists as England had planted them in North America, nurtured them, protected them, blah, blah, blah, - the good colonel threw the bovine excrement flag on that one. He pointed out that stupid British policies had driven most colonists to leave England and head to the New World. They had planted, nurtured, and protected themselves with no help at all from Jolly Olde England. In fact, as the colonel pointed out, all the Mother Country had done was involve North America in her interminable wars with France.

After studying at Trinity College, he joined the 32nd regiment of foot as an ensign in 1746, and was promoted to lieutenant in 1755, and captain in 1756. He served under his patron General James Wolfe on the Rochefort expedition of 1757, when he first met Lord Shelburne, and afterwards in Canada where he was appointed adjutant-general, fighting at both Louisbourg (1758) and Quebec (1759). In the Quebec expedition, in which Wolfe was killed, Barré was severely wounded by a bullet in the cheek and lost the use of his right eye, and was among the group gathered around the dying Wolfe, immortalised in Benjamin West's celebrated picture.

Returning to England in September 1760, despite many years of commendable service, Barré was denied a promotion by William Pitt the Elder and turned to Shelburne for help. After undertaking a tour of Shelburne's Irish estates, he was advanced to lieutenant-colonel of the regiment of 106th Foot at Shelburne's instigation, and in 1763 was appointed to the lucrative posts of adjutant-general to the British army and Governor of Stirling Castle. (Source)

The painting mentioned above is this one -

The Death of General Wolfe by Benjamin West(Source)

However, I can find no reference as to which person in the painting is the good colonel. Many sources indicate that of the number of historical figures allegedly in the painting, only four were actually present at the battle. Colonel Barré was most definitely at the battle on the Plains of Abraham, but as he had taken a musket ball to the face prior to Wolfe's death, and I don't see anyone in the painting around Wolfe bleeding from a head wound (which would be very noticeable as head wounds bleed like a sumbitch), I have my doubts. So my guess is that the Wikipedia mention of the colonel being in the painting is unsubstantiated and just plain wrong. (Wikipedia, wrong? Yes, yes, hard to believe but in truth, most of their historical articles are generally spot on.)

Bottom line of this tale is that I had no idea the town of Barre, Vermont was named after a British colonel. Now I do, and so do you.

Good lad that Colonel Barré.

In other news, Big Girl failed her state inspection and the repairs (which involve the exhaust system, catalytic converters, oxygen sensors and other crap mandated by idiot bureaucrats) are going to cost me a pretty penny. More than she's valued at actually, but far less than a new car. Other than the exhaust, she still runs very well, thank you, and I intend to keep her around for another ten years, five at the least. But dang, any more repairs of this magnitude and I might have to rethink two things: keeping this vehicle and retiring. Both of which I sincerely want to do. But can I afford it? We shall see.

Visit to the surgeon's office on Friday. Signing consent forms, getting briefed on when I can have my last meal before surgery, learned that the surgery involves the same sort of anesthesia as a colonoscopy (oh boy). They call it "twilight anesthesia," you're not really out but not really conscious either. The nurse said, you won't remember anything. I told her that I did "awaken" from the colonoscopy with vivid memories of parts of that procedure.

That got a raised eyebrow and hopefully a note in the chart.

I like to keep track of the commenters here at The Chant and have not seen hide nor hair of Paul Quandt recently. Anybody know him? Where he's at?

I do so worry about all y'all.

Anyhoo, one more post before Götterdämmerung, er, I mean the surgery with its twilight anesthesia and all. I have been told that I will need to wear an eye patch for a few days afterwards. Got a funny look when I asked if I had to provide my own parrot.

Arrr matey!