“Rouse, my friends, rouse from your stupid lethargy,” the Reverend Samuel Seabury scolded New York farmers in a pamphlet condemning the 1st Continental Congress’ proposed economic boycott of British trade.

Congress had convened in 1774 to protest punitive legislation enacted by the British following the Boston Tea Party. Samuel, writing under the pseudonym A.W. Farmer, was appalled by their plans which he believed would lead to mob rule.

In a well-reasoned piece spiced with flamboyant rhetoric, Samuel warned that challenging royal authority was folly and would lead to dire economic consequences for the colonists. He vowed that he’d rather be “enslaved by a King” than “gnawed to death by rats and vermin.”

Samuel’s pamphlet drew the attention of an impudent teenager who fired off an equally well-reasoned and flamboyant rebuttal. The 17-year-old defended Congress, espoused the natural right of man to resist tyranny, and characterized Samuel as having “an invincible aversion to common sense.” That teenager was Alexander Hamilton.

Samuel’s second pamphlet addressed New York merchants and once again stressed the benefits of English rule and the economic hardships implicit in a conflict with Great Britain. Hamilton’s saucy retort included a recommended reading list of Enlightenment literature for Samuel’s edification. Hamilton was sure that if Samuel applied himself with diligence and without delay, his “ignorance of the natural rights of mankind” could be remedied.

Samuel issued more pamphlets, but Hamilton bowed out of the exchange, declaring, quite unfairly, that it was useless to debate a man who was blind to reason.

Samuel was born in Ledyard; Seabury Avenue bears the family name. He studied medicine at Yale and Edinburgh, and then followed his father into the ministry. When the war of words with Hamilton broke out, Samuel was serving as the pastor of St. Peter’s Church in Westchester, New York, and like most Episcopal clergymen he was a staunch Loyalist. Even though the identity of A.W. Farmer was supposed to be a secret, Samuel’s British sympathies soon attracted dangerous scrutiny and embroiled him in serious trouble.

In November 1775 Samuel was seized by Connecticut patriots who terrified his family and held a gun against his daughter’s chest. He was taken to New Haven and detained for six weeks before being released on the condition that he stop broadcasting his Loyalist views. He took refuge behind British lines in New York and served as chaplain to one of King George’s regiments.

After the war, instead of fleeing to Canada like so many other Loyalists, Samuel returned to Connecticut and devoted himself to strengthening the Episcopal Church. He was elected bishop by a group of his peers, but had to travel to England to be consecrated because there were no church officials in America authorized to do so.

After all he’d been through it must have seemed bitterly ironic when the Church of England refused to consecrate Samuel because, as an American citizen, he couldn’t take the oath of loyalty to King George. The Scottish Episcopal Church, which was at odds with the British monarchy, had no such qualms. Samuel was ordained in Aberdeen, Scotland, on November 14, 1784, making him the first bishop of the American Episcopal Church.

Samuel died in New London in 1796, but the city hasn’t forgotten him. His remains are interred in St. James Episcopal Church, where he had served as rector. A beautiful stained glass window in the sanctuary memorializes his historic consecration. Samuel’s house, built circa 1790, still stands on the corner of Green Street and Greenes Alley.

It takes a strong person to move forward constructively despite profound disappointment. Samuel was able to put faith above politics and commit himself to the spiritual life of the new nation whose birth he’d once so vehemently opposed.

Carol Sommer of Waterford is a self-proclaimed history nut. She writes a monthly history column inspired by local street signs.