Reading Sam Adams…part 2

My recent comments about Stacy Schiff’s The Revolutionary Samuel Adams got me thinking about some of John Adams’s thoughts about his second cousin. In particular, John shared a neat story about Sam’s secretiveness—a problem that has bedeviled biographers, including Schiff, because Sam didn’t leave behind a trove of documentary evidence the way other Founders did.

“I have seen him . . .” said John, “in Philadelphia, when he was about to leave Congress, cut up with his scissors whole bundles of letters, into atoms that could never be reunited, and throw them out at the window, to be scattered by the winds. This was in summer, when he had no fire. In winter he threw whole handfuls into the fire. As we were on terms of perfect intimacy, I have joked him, perhaps rudely, upon his anxious caution. His answer was, ‘Whatever becomes of me, my friends shall never suffer by my negligence.’”[1]

John admired Sam, 13 years his senior, a great deal. The two were hardly acquainted growing up, but as John started off his legal career in Boston, Sam—a great cultivator of talent—pegged him as someone to develop. As tensions in Boston grew between the Sons of Liberty, British officials, and far-off Parliament, Sam brought John into the inner circle because of John’s sharp legal mind. The decision paved John’s eventual path to national politics.

“Mr. Adams was an original,” John said of Sam, saying he was “born and tempered a wedge of steel. . . .”[2]

In his common appearance, he was a plain, simple, decent citizen, of middling stature, dress and manners. He had an exquisite ear for music, and a charming voice, when he pleased to exert it.—Yet his ordinary speeches in town meetings, in the house of representatives and in congress, exhibited nothing extraordinary; but upon great occasions, when his deeper feelings were excited, he erected himself, or rather nature seemed to erect him, without the smallest symptom of affectation, into an upright dignity of figure and gesture, and gave a harmony to his voice, which made a strong impression on spectators and auditors, the more lasting for the purity, correctness and nervous elegance of his style.[3]

John spoke on several occasions of Sam’s “an air of dignity and majesty.” He admired Sam’s “harmonious voice and decisive tone” and his “self-recollection, a self-possession, a self-command, a presence of mind that was admired by every man present. . . .”[4] He also listed “his caution, his discretion, his ingenuity, his sagacity, his self-command, his presence of mind, and his intrepidity” as traits that “commanded the admiration” of friend and foe alike—friends who applauded him and foes who could not help but respect Sam Adams’s considerable populist powers.[5]

It is little doubt why John later said, “Without the character of Samuel Adams, the true history of the American Revolution can never be written.”[6]


[1] “From John Adams to William Tudor, Sr., 5 June 1813,” Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Adams/99-02-02-6054. 

[2] “From John Adams to William Tudor, Sr., 5 June 1813,” Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Adams/99-02-02-6054. 

[3] “From John Adams to William Tudor, Sr., 15 April 1818,” Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Adams/99-02-02-6883.

[4] “From John Adams to William Tudor, Sr., 15 April 1818,” Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Adams/99-02-02-6883.

[5] “From John Adams to Jedidiah Morse, 1 January 1816,” Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Adams/99-02-02-6563. 

[6] “From John Adams to William Tudor, Sr., 15 April 1818,” Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Adams/99-02-02-6883.

Reading Sam Adams…

I’m currently reading Stacy Schiff’s new biography The Revolutionary Samuel Adams. It’s a snappy-to-read, deeply researched book—all the more challenging to write because Sam Adams made careful effort not to leave much of a paper trail about himself.  

Schiff uses her introduction to sketch out this fundamental problem, and in doing so, she creates a compelling flash portrait of Adams that the rest of the book fleshes out. Adams the historiographical sphinx is well served by this portrait. Sam Adams simultaneously led from the front yet operated in the shadows, an apparent contradiction that Schiff nonetheless portrays fully and effectively. 

As the book goes on, Schiff manages to pull from a deep well of primary sources, even if there’s not a mountain from Sam himself. She handles those sources adroitly and comfortably, plucking this bit from here and that bit from there the way a conductor works an orchestra.  

The result is an admiring but not fawning portrait of Adams—a man without whom, said cousin John, “the true history of the American Revolution can never be written.”[1] 

Troubling to me in the text is that, in the late 1760s and early 1770s, the Adams-led Sons of Liberty often employed mob violence—real and threatened—to achieve their aims. Propaganda efforts were often tethered to reality by only thinnest of meager threads, if at all. Men were intimidated, bullied, tarred and feathered, humiliated, assaulted, and run out of town for opposing or even just disagreeing with them. Houses were ransacked. Livelihoods destroyed. Reputations ruined. I could not help but think of the Klan in the Reconstruction-era South—a comparison no-doubt tantamount to sacrilege when talking about a group of Bostonians popularly and fondly remembered as patriots.  

Yet Schiff merrily skates over such rough terrain, sharing vivid details about incidents without exploring the moral morass this tension suggests. Her hero acts in decidedly less-than-heroic ways, arguing that the ends justify the means. We as readers are left to ponder this ambiguity ourselves. Such work on the reader’s part isn’t a bad thing, but it does strike me as somewhat of an abdication on the biographer’s part when the rest of the narrative is so cheerfully pro-Adams. 

Overall, The Revolutionary Samuel Adams is an excellent work so far, and I highly recommend it for anyone who wants a fuller understanding of how the wheels of Revolution started turning—and who started them. 


[1]“From John Adams to William Tudor, Sr., 5 June 1813,” Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Adams/99-02-02-6054.  

The Sons of Liberty in Kentucky

In Louisville, Kentucky, earlier this month, I paid a visit to the Louisville Slugger Factory and Museum downtown. Across the street, I was pleasantly surprised to see a marvelous statue of a minuteman.

Sons of American Revolution Statue

The plaque on the back reads

Sons of Liberty—1775

To Honor the History
of
Philadelphia Continental Chapter
1901

Pennsylvania Society
Founded 1893

By its Compatriots
2009

The statue stands outside the headquarters of the National Society of the Sons of the American Revolution. “Located along Main Street’s Museum Row in downtown Louisville,” the society’s website says, “the Sons of the American Revolution is the leading male lineage society that perpetuates the ideals of the war for independence.”

Sons of American Revolution Museum

The statue was publicly unveiled in November 2015. According to the Louisville Courier Journal, “The 800-pound, 8-foot high bronze statue of the Minuteman holding a musket rests upon 19,000 pounds of quarried Kentucky limestone, material specifically requested by the artist James Muir.”

Through the Lense of History: May 3, 1775

 

spy_-_page_1_0Often the study of history can ground us and make us feel less “unique.” This allows us to hopefully put our own experiences into perspective and be able to hopefully learn from lessons of the past.  Many today complain about how print and social media can distort facts to support a particular agenda.  This is not a modern phenomenon.  Many in the Sons of Liberty (such as Paul Revere) used print media to their advantage to promote resistance to and then independence from Great Britain.

Many pro-Patriot newspapers printed nothing less than propaganda pieces after the battles of April 19, 1775. Here is part of what was printed by the Massachusetts Spy on May 3, 1775.

Americans!  forever bear in mind the BATTLE of LEXINGTON!  where British Troops, unmolested and unprovoked wantonly, and in a most inhuman manner fired upon and killed a number of our countrymen, then robbed them of their provisions, ransacked, plundered and burnt their houses!  nor could the tears of defenseless women, some of whom were in the pains of childbirth, the cries of helpless, babes, nor the prayers of old age, confined to beds of sickness, appease their thirst for blood! – or divert them from the DESIGN of MURDER and ROBBERY!”

Obviously a historic study of the events on April 19, 1775 disputes much of what is claimed by the Massachusetts Spy.  But when you have a point to make, an agenda to promote and a local population to rally to a cause…why should truth get in the way?!  We have come a long way since 1775, but in many ways not much has changed.

DoolittleLexedit
The prints by Amos Doolittle of the events on April 19, 1775 did a lot to promote the Patriots cause in their “media war” war against the British.

Inspired By the Americans

RevWarWednesdays-header

On December 16, 1773, in Boston, Massachusetts harbor, American colonists belonging to the Sons of Liberty stole aboard trade vessels anchored in the water. In protest to recently passed British legislation, the Native American dressed Sons of Liberty dumped 342 chests of tea into the water.

The Boston Tea Party became a prominent and well-known defiant act by the Americans on the road to the American Revolution.

Unbeknownst to the Adams, Warrens, and Hancock’s of the American Revolution, this particular form of protest–attacking the purse strings of the governing power–would resonate 75 years later, 3,284 miles, and one continent away. Continue reading “Inspired By the Americans”