★★★★☆ | History | Digital + Print | Own | StoryGraph | Goodreads
A riveting history of the people and events of the American Revolution from the perspective of arguably our most important forefather. This is timely reading to remember the causes of revolution and the original intentions of the U.S. Constitution as we approach the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence.
I had been lulled into thinking of our Founding Fathers as selfless and intrinsically wise. McCullough dispelled any notion that these men were perfect, including Adams. The revolution led to heroic moments, for sure, but time has glossed over the miscues, indecision, and backstabbing that plague all of humanity. Adams stands out as a beacon of honesty and decency in a sea of selfishness, pompousness, and betrayal. No spoilers, but I will never feel the same about Benjamin Franklin or Thomas Jefferson!
Beyond the American history lesson, I enjoyed learning about Adams as an attorney, farmer, father, devoted husband, voracious reader, and lifelong scholar during a time of incredible turmoil and uncertainty. He achieved tremendous success and suffered utter heartbreak throughout his life, all while staying true to his personal values and beliefs. Adams embodied the very best of what it means to be American.
Highlights
He was reading Milton, Virgil, Voltaire, Viscount Bolingbroke’s Letters on the Study and Use of History, and copying long extracts in a literary commonplace book.
He was so widely read, he could talk on almost any subject, sail off in almost any direction. What he knew he knew well.
“The only way to compose myself and collect my thoughts,” he wrote in his diary, “is to set down at my table, place my diary before me, and take my pen into my hand. This apparatus takes off my attention from other objects. Pen, ink, and paper and a sitting posture are great helps to attention and thinking.”
“Facts are stubborn things,” he told the jury, “and whatever may be our wishes, our inclinations, or the dictums of our passions, they cannot alter the state of facts and evidence.”
Congress was about equally divided three ways—those opposed to independence who were Tories at heart if not openly, those too cautious or timid to take a position one way or the other, and the “true blue,” as he said, who wanted to declare independence with all possible speed.
A government with a single legislative body would never do. There should be a representative assembly, “an exact portrait in miniature of the people at large,” but it must not have the whole legislative power, for the reason that like an individual with unchecked power, it could be subject to “fits of humor, transports of passion, partialities of prejudice.”
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. That to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed.
“These are the times that try men’s souls,” wrote Thomas Paine, who was with the retreating army. “The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of his country.”
“Read somewhat in the English poets every day. You will find them elegant, entertaining, and constructive companions through your whole life. In all the disquisitions you have heard concerning the happiness of life, has it ever been recommended to you to read poetry? . . . You will never be alone with a poet in your pocket. You will never have an idle hour.”
“Reason holds the helm, but passions are the gales.”
The Alien Acts included a Naturalization Act, which increased the required period of residence to qualify for citizenship from five to fourteen years, and the Alien Act, which granted the President the legal right to expel any foreigner he considered “dangerous.” In the view of the Vice President, the Alien Act was something worthy of the ninth century.
Under the Sedition Act anyone openly criticizing the President ran the risk of being fined or sent to prison. Since the first sensational case against Congressman Matthew (“Spitting”) Lyon of Vermont, eleven others had been charged and convicted under the law.
The departure of the two boys left both grandparents feeling desolate. They must keep diaries, Adams told them as once he had told their father. Without a diary, their travels would “be no better than a flight of birds through the air,” leaving no trace.
The philosophy that with sufficient knowledge all could be explained held no appeal. All could not be explained, Adams had come to understand. Mystery was essential. “Admire and adore the Author of the telescopic universe, love and esteem the work, do all in your power to lessen ill, and increase good,” he wrote in the margin of one of his books, “but never assume to comprehend.”
“The longer I live, the more I read, the more patiently I think, and the more anxiously I inquire, the less I seem to know. . . . Do justly. Love mercy. Walk humbly. This is enough. . .”
“Griefs upon griefs! Disappointments upon disappointments. What then? This is a gay, merry world notwithstanding.”