Posts Tagged ‘Declaration of Independence’

Our Devious Founding Fathers

February 29, 2024

As I write this, it’s the last day of February.  Presidents are on everyone’s mind.

Last week, the country celebrated Presidents’ Day.  It used to be Washington’s Birthday, celebrated on February 22. He was born on that date in 1732, but did you know that he actually was born on February 11, 1731? At the time of his birth, the Julian calendar was still in use, and would be for the first 20 years of his life. The Gregorian calendar was adopted in 1752, adding a year and 11 days, in order to more accurately calculate leap years.

Jefferson at work

Then there’s Lincoln’s Birthday on February 12. Abe deserves his own holiday, in my opinion, but he didn’t get one. I suppose that a Presidents’ Day, in which we honor both of these giants of American history, is a reasonable approach.

This year too, we’re going to be electing a president, come November. So we’re all thinking of that, and mostly with some trepidation.  I don’t think I’m being too overtly political here when I say that most likely you agree with me and with most of America that none of the prospective candidates for the November ballot is in any way comparable to our Founding Fathers.

The Founders, after all, were brave, articulate, forthright men of sterling character. They put their lives on the line. And they were totally honest. All the time. Beginning with that felled cherry tree in George Washington’s back yard, they never told a lie. Always played it straight.

Er, not exactly. Not all the time. But sometimes, you gotta do what you gotta do, even if it means lying or exaggerating or dissembling. And history will reward you for it, if you play for the good guys. Consider these little-known backstories about two of our most revered founders, Thomas Jefferson and George Washington.

Take Jefferson and his writing of the Declaration of Independence. Without a doubt, that document is masterful and sublime – at least at the beginning, with the “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness….” And so on.

But that first section ends with “The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States. To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world.”

George III

Those “facts,” are anything but facts. Rather, they are 28 ad-hominem accusations against King George III, a king to whom on December 6, 1775, the Second Continental Congress had declared its allegiance while distancing itself from the real oppressors, the British Parliament: “Allegiance to Parliament? We never owed – we never owned it. Allegiance to our King? We have ever avowed it – our conduct has been ever consistent with it.”

So what happened, over the following six months? Did George III turn into a hateful monster? Did he desire to put into place a reign of tyranny and terror?  Of course not. But Thomas Jefferson, probably the most facile wordsmith of all the leaders in the colonies, had to paint the King as just such a villain. He had to make it personal. The nuanced truth behind the issues be damned. And it worked.

Andrew Roberts’s fine book, “The Last King of America,” takes up the rhetorical excesses of the Declaration of Independence in great detail. He maintains that, because it was the King to whom Congress had recently declared allegiance, “unless it took the form of a personal attack, it would not answer the Loyalists’ argument that it was possible to become independent of Britain but remain in a political condominium of some sort with the Crown.”

In other words, they had to go negative  – sound familiar? – and do it in a personal manner which also had to be untruthful in the extreme.  The 28 charges “were kept deliberately unspecific regarding places and dates, for the obvious reason that most were untrue, since George had never sought to establish any kind of tyranny over America.”

Space doesn’t allow us to go into the detail that Roberts lays out. But here are just a few examples:

“He has kept among us, in times of peace, standing armies without the consent of our legislatures.” Well, yeah. The French and Indian War had concluded in 1763, and according to Roberts  “a standing army on the western border had been the only way of protecting the colonies; the colonies had actually voted their thanks for what the British army had done.”

“He has transported us beyond the seas to be tried for pretended offences.” That never happened. A law allowing for this had been in place since the time on Henry VIII, and it was to deal with traitors and treasonable crimes. But George III never used it.

“He has transported large armies of foreign mercenaries to complete the works of death, desolation, and tyranny, already begun with circumstances of cruelty and perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy of the head of a civilized nation.”  But Jefferson failed to mention that, fighting on America’s side, were Baron von Steuben, the Marquis de Lafayette, General Casimir Pulaski’s Legion, Bartholomew von Heer’s Provost Corps, and General Armand’s Independent Chasseurs.

George Washington at Dorchester Heights, Boston

“He has excited domestic insurrections against us and has endeavoured to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers the merciless Indian savages, whose known rule of warfare is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes, and conditions.” Jefferson must have forgotten that Congress tried to outbid the British for the supports of the Indigenous Nations, and that Stockbridge Native Americans were members of the Massachusetts Militia, and that Massachusetts  had a provincial alliance with the Mohawks.

“He has plundered our seas, ravaged our coasts, burnt our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people.” This points to the destruction of Norfolk, Virginia. Only problem was that Norfolk was primarily a Loyalist town and the burning was done by the Patriots, not by the Redcoats.

By now, I think you get the point. Thomas Jefferson never let the facts get in the way of a good story. And that final item lets us segue neatly into an adventure in plausible deniability by the father of our country, George Washington. He was almost certainly involved in and ultimately responsible for “The Great Fire of 1776” in New York. More than 500 buildings, including Trinity and Lutheran churches, were destroyed.

British soldiers had marched triumphantly into New York on September 15, 1776. Washington’s army had to flee, but six nights later, fire broke out in the city’s southern wharves. There were no bells left in the city of sound the alarm; Washington’s men had taken them all for cannon fodder.  Strong winds had spread the blaze and turned much of the city, which was also teeming with Loyalists, into a waste land.

Washington had wanted to burn the city down before he fled, but Congress forbade it and told him to make a peaceful retreat. He complied grudgingly.

But two weeks later, writing to Lund Washington, a distant relative and manager of his Mount Vernon estate, GW stated, “Providence – or some good honest Fellow, has done more for us than we were disposed to do ourselves.”

The Great Fire of 1776

The rhetoric on the Patriots’ side claimed it was indeed some divine providence, or perhaps even British soldiers out plundering the city, that started the blaze. The Brits believed otherwise, pointing out that arsonists had to have done it because the blaze broke out in several places at once. They also pointed to Washington’s absconding with the fire bells as something that couldn’t have been a coincidence.

A subsequent investigation by the Brits couldn’t prove anything. But in June 1777, they caught Abraham Patten, a spy who was plotting to set afire the town of Brunswick, NJ. Before he was hanged as a spy, Patten admitted that he had helped start the New York fire. He didn’t name any accomplices, however. Shortly thereafter, Washington wrote to John Hancock and requested that they secure some funds for Patten’s widow.

No, we can’t expect our presidents to be totally honest all the time. We should know that by now. And they should have known it back in 1776. Some things never change.

Men of July 4: Adams and Jefferson

July 4, 2019

Comrades in the struggle to found the American nation, then bitter foes in the nasty and brutal election campaign of 1800, and finally dear friends and eloquent correspondents in their long retirement years, John Adams and Thomas Jefferson deserve all of the praise and honor that history has conferred upon them.

This is not to say that they were models of perfection. Each had glaring personal flaws and quirks; each made mistakes in the wielding of power in his respective and various roles. Both men died on July 4, 1826, the fiftieth anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence.  James Monroe, the fifth president, also died on that date in 1831.

Jefferson is credited with writing the Declaration; noted for his ability with words, he did write the first draft.  But it was then edited by a committee comprising Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Roger Sherman, and Robert Livingston.

Adams was a skilled writer as well; he could have done a good job with the first draft too. While he later groused about the political mileage that Jefferson got from his reputation as the Declaration’s author – wondering, in 1805, if there was “ever a coup de théâtre that had so great an effect as Jefferson’s penmanship of the Declaration of Independence” – he also knew that it was important for the 13 colonies to have a Virginian be a visible leader of the breakaway from King George. Support from the rich, agrarian South was critical, and the South was rife with loyalist slave-owners for whom life was just fine the way it was.

So, what were these two gentlemen really like? What did they think, and feel, about themselves and their lives, after they had retired from public life? The following excerpts from letters they exchanged in 1812 tell us a good deal. (And would that letter-writing still hold as important a place in society now; we would all be better off and, I dare say, a little more civilized.)

Jefferson to Adams

Monticello, January 21, 1812

Dear Sir,

[your letter] carries me back to the times when, beset with difficulties and dangers, we were fellow laborers in the same cause, struggling for what is most valuable to man, his right of self-government. Laboring always at the same oar, with some wave ahead ever threatening to overwhelm us, we knew not how, we rode through the storm with heart and hand, and made a happy port.  Still we did not expect to be without rubs and difficulties – and we have had them.

[after noting several issues that led to the War of 1812, he continues] And I believe we shall continue to grow, to multiply and prosper until we exhibit an association, powerful, and wise, and happy beyond what has yet been seen by men.

As for France and England, with all their preeminence in science, the one is a den of robbers, the other of pirates. And if science produces no better fruits than tyranny, murder, rapine, and the destitution of national morality, I would rather wish our country be ignorant, honest, and estimable as our neighboring savages are.

But whither is senile garrulity leading me? Into politics, of which I have taken final leave. I think little of them and say less. I have given up newspapers in exchange for Tacitus and Thucydides, for Newton and Euclid; and I find myself much the happier.

[after talking about his own health and his pleasure in his grandchildren, he concludes] I should have the pleasure of knowing that in the race of life you do not keep, in its physical decline, the same distance ahead of me that you have done in political honors and achievements. No circumstances have lessened the interest I feel in these particulars respecting yourself; none have suspended for one moment my sincere esteem for you; and I now salute you with unchanged affections and respect.

Adams to Jefferson

Quincy, February 1, 1812

Dear Sir,

Your life and mine for almost half a century have been nearly all of a piece, resembling in the whole, mine in the Gulf Stream, chased by three British frigates, in a hurricane from the northeast and a hideous tempest of thunder and lightning, which cracked our mainmast, struck three and twenty men on deck, wounded four, and killed one. I do not remember that my feelings in those three days were very different from what they have been for fifty years.

What an exchange have you made? Of newspapers for Newton? Rising from the lower deep of the lowest deep of dullness and bathos to the contemplation of the heavens and the heavens of heavens. Oh that I had devoted to Newton and fellows that time which I fear has been wasted on Plato and Aristotle, Bacon, Acherly, Bolingbroke, De Lolme, Harrington, Sidney, Hobbes, Plato Redivivus, Marchmont, Nedham, with twenty others upon subjects which mankind is determined never to understand, and those who do understand them are resolved never to practice, or countenance.

Your memoranda of the past, your sense of the present, and your prospect for the future seem to be well founded as far as I can see.  But the latter, i.e., the prospect for the future, will depend upon the Union: how is that Union to be preserved? Concordia res parvae crescent, Discordia maximae dilabuntur. [Small matters thrive with concord, great things fall apart through discord.] I will not at present point out the precise days and months when, nor the names of the men by whom this Union has been put in jeopardy. Your recollection can be at no more loss than mine.

“…But conquerors to now so easily disappear, battles and victories are irresistible by human nature. When a man is once acknowledged by the people in the army and the country as the author of a victory, there is no longer any question. Had Hamilton or Burr obtained a recent victory, neither you nor Jay nor I should have stood any chance against them or either of them more than a swallow or a sparrow.

I have read Thucydides and Tacitus, so often and at such distant period of my life that, elegant and profound and enchanting as is their style, I am weary of them. When I read them I seem only to be reading the history of my own times and my own life. I am heartily weary of both, i.e., of recollecting the history of both: for I am not weary of living. Whatever a peevish patriarch might say, I have never yet seen the day in which I could say I have had no pleasure, or that I have had more pain than pleasure.

[After telling of his daily activities and his family, he concludes] I cordially reciprocate your professions of esteem and respect. Madam sends her kind regards to your daughter and your grandchildren, as well as to yourself.

P.S. I forgot to remark your preference to savage over civilized life. I have something to say upon that subject. If I am in error, you can set me right, but by all I know of one or the other I would rather be the poorest man in France or England, with sound health of body and mind, than the proudest king, sachem or warrior of any tribe of savages in America.

And Now This Editorial Comment

In my opinion, Thomas Jefferson is one of the “great” presidents, but I think that history has been a little too kind to him and much too dismissive of Adams.  T.J. was undoubtedly more personally appealing, more clever, and certainly more snake-in-the-grass politically adept than the grouchy, curmudgeonly, and more highly-principled Adams.   David McCullough’s biography of Adams has done something to rectify that imbalance.

But whatever…would you not like to sit down with these two men, perhaps at the Colonial Inn in Concord or the Michie Tavern in Charlottesville, over beers brewed by their pal Samuel Adams, and just listen to what they have to say? I can think of no better activity for the Fourth of July.