Edward Countryman. The American Revolution. New York: Hill and Wang, 1985.
This short, readable volume is in some way a synthesis of scholarship on the Revolution. However, Countryman brings a narrative control and point of view so that the text never devolves into a mere recounting of historiography.
The central question Countryman addresses is simple: What was the American Revolution? The answer turns out to be that the Revolution was a complex phenomena which was experienced differently by different people at different times; but also that it was a dynamic process that exacerbated old stresses and reconfigured old institutions and practices. The Revolution began in 1763 with the Stamp Act, and ended in 1788 with the ratification of the Constitution; during this period, Americans of different classes and different regions found themselves negotiating between old structures and the fluidity of the era. And the reactions varied from colony to colony, state to state.
In more concrete terms, this is a book about how urban artisans and merchants were in the vanguard of a resistance movement to British rule. Those both above and below then had to react to the increased tensions of the era. Among the ruling elite, there were hard decisions to be made, as some in the upper class felt that the Empire no longer served their needs, while others chose loyalty. Ultimately, the Constitution (and many state constitutions) would be crafted by members of this elite who recognized that it was better to acquiesce to some popular discontent in order to help shape the new order once that change became inevitable.
In the back country, many small farmers felt little affinity for the Patriot movement, and many held pre-existing resentments against the political elites of their colonies; resentments which did not dissipate once independence beckoned. This was where the fighting of the Revolution was at its bloodiest. It was also where opposition to the Constitution would be the strongest.
This is a very good synthesis of scholarship, as well as a fine consideration of the how the Revolution can be understood by examining how differently various groups in colonial society experienced it.
Sunday, March 22, 2015
Wednesday, March 11, 2015
The Kingdom of Matthias
Paul E. Johnson and Sean Wilentz. The Kingdom of Matthias: A Story of Sex and Salvation in 19th-Century America. New York: Oxford University Press, 1994.
This short volume rescues a near-forgotten episode from the religious enthusiasms of the 1830s--the short-lived nascent cult of Robert Matthews, alias Matthias, who presented himself to his followers (and anybody else within earshot) that he was the living incarnation of the patriarchal God of the Hebrews. Matthias never attracted more than a handful of followers to his authoritarian cult, and the death of his first follower as well as the fallout of his imposed "spirit matches" which ignored existing legal marriages by his command led to the collapse of the tiny "Kingdom" he tried to establish in Sing Sing, New York and a handful of locations in Manhattan.
The authors begin with a brief account of a meeting between Matthias after his fall, fleeing the notoriety of his trial for theft, murder, and finally assault, and none other than Joseph Smith, the founder of the Mormon faith. Smith and Matthias, we will learn, shared much in common; however, Smith was far more successful than Matthias. Ultimately, Smith banishes Matthias; at the end of the book we learn that this is very nearly the last historical trace of this strange, failed prophet.
What makes this story more than a mere footnote to history is the authors' examination of how issues of gender and class were central to this story--Matthews was a failed man of the working class in early Jacksonian America; the sort of man who was losing in the new market economy. The winners, very often, were middle class types who embraced the new, Charles Finney-inspired evangelical faith with it's emphasis on the increased role of women in the church and in the home. For a man who came of age in a stable Scots-Irish backwoods settlement where a stern patriarchy ruled over a rough, modest social and economic equality, this was galling. Like Smith and others, Matthews sought to reject the individualistic market economy and restore an idealized patriarchy through a re-imagining of existing scriptures and dogmas.
The story the authors tell is recreated from a handful of sources--for the most part, this story disappeared from public memory after the trial at the end, as the penny press moved on to the next sensational case. And for the most part, the participants also vanish from the historical memory. Except one--the authors save their big reveal for the very last sentence, when they reveal that Isabella, the former slave-turned-servant who was Matthias' most devoted and dogged believer, would reinvent herself as none other than Sojourner Truth.
It's somewhat surprising that the involvement of such a legendary personage wasn't sufficient enough to make this story more well-known, but it suggests yet another enticing thread to be unraveled. Johnson and Wilentz do a great job of tracing possible connections and resonant echoes throughout this sordid little story.
This short volume rescues a near-forgotten episode from the religious enthusiasms of the 1830s--the short-lived nascent cult of Robert Matthews, alias Matthias, who presented himself to his followers (and anybody else within earshot) that he was the living incarnation of the patriarchal God of the Hebrews. Matthias never attracted more than a handful of followers to his authoritarian cult, and the death of his first follower as well as the fallout of his imposed "spirit matches" which ignored existing legal marriages by his command led to the collapse of the tiny "Kingdom" he tried to establish in Sing Sing, New York and a handful of locations in Manhattan.
The authors begin with a brief account of a meeting between Matthias after his fall, fleeing the notoriety of his trial for theft, murder, and finally assault, and none other than Joseph Smith, the founder of the Mormon faith. Smith and Matthias, we will learn, shared much in common; however, Smith was far more successful than Matthias. Ultimately, Smith banishes Matthias; at the end of the book we learn that this is very nearly the last historical trace of this strange, failed prophet.
What makes this story more than a mere footnote to history is the authors' examination of how issues of gender and class were central to this story--Matthews was a failed man of the working class in early Jacksonian America; the sort of man who was losing in the new market economy. The winners, very often, were middle class types who embraced the new, Charles Finney-inspired evangelical faith with it's emphasis on the increased role of women in the church and in the home. For a man who came of age in a stable Scots-Irish backwoods settlement where a stern patriarchy ruled over a rough, modest social and economic equality, this was galling. Like Smith and others, Matthews sought to reject the individualistic market economy and restore an idealized patriarchy through a re-imagining of existing scriptures and dogmas.
The story the authors tell is recreated from a handful of sources--for the most part, this story disappeared from public memory after the trial at the end, as the penny press moved on to the next sensational case. And for the most part, the participants also vanish from the historical memory. Except one--the authors save their big reveal for the very last sentence, when they reveal that Isabella, the former slave-turned-servant who was Matthias' most devoted and dogged believer, would reinvent herself as none other than Sojourner Truth.
It's somewhat surprising that the involvement of such a legendary personage wasn't sufficient enough to make this story more well-known, but it suggests yet another enticing thread to be unraveled. Johnson and Wilentz do a great job of tracing possible connections and resonant echoes throughout this sordid little story.
Sunday, March 8, 2015
Interpretations of American History, Volume 2
Gerald N. Grob and George Athan Billias, eds. Interpretations of American History, Volume 2 since 1865, Patterns and Perspectives. New York: The Free Press, 1967
I already reviewed Volume I a few weeks ago, and I have little to add to that review; the second volume continues the same approach, and has the same strengths and potential weaknesses as the first.
The one difference of significance between the two volumes is that the latter covers more recent events; the final article was originally published in 1964 and is a tentative retrospective of the Kennedy presidency. The final chapter covers the post-World War II era, and is therefore such recent history at the time of publication that it was somewhat difficult to fully define different schools of thought. Still, the essential political question these pieces address--the degree to which New Deal liberalism would or would not continue to define the new establishment consensus--seems to be fairly accurate even with the benefit of a further half-century of retrospect.
Like the first volume, this is still a very valuable, if necessarily incomplete, introduction to some of the main themes in American historiography.
I already reviewed Volume I a few weeks ago, and I have little to add to that review; the second volume continues the same approach, and has the same strengths and potential weaknesses as the first.
The one difference of significance between the two volumes is that the latter covers more recent events; the final article was originally published in 1964 and is a tentative retrospective of the Kennedy presidency. The final chapter covers the post-World War II era, and is therefore such recent history at the time of publication that it was somewhat difficult to fully define different schools of thought. Still, the essential political question these pieces address--the degree to which New Deal liberalism would or would not continue to define the new establishment consensus--seems to be fairly accurate even with the benefit of a further half-century of retrospect.
Like the first volume, this is still a very valuable, if necessarily incomplete, introduction to some of the main themes in American historiography.
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