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Obliging a friend’s inquiry in 1787,
Thomas Jefferson commented upon recent disturbances in the
Massachusetts countryside of Berkshire, Hampshire and Worcester
Counties, soon to be called Shays’ Rebellion. Undoubtedly
reflecting upon his own deeply felt interpretation of the
American Revolution so recently ended, Jefferson wrote two
brief sentences that have gathered much attention ever since:
“The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to
time, with the blood of patriots and tyrants. It is its natural
manure.” Jefferson’s comment was less about Shays’
Rebellion, since he was in Paris when he wrote these words
and knew very little detail, but more about the principles
of the revolution he had just help lead, and the price paid
for those principles.
And if Jefferson believed the blood of patriots and tyrants
to be the natural manure for the tree of liberty, did he believe
the same to be true for the tree of independence as well?
Perhaps, but he also spent fifty years witnessing the powerful
effects of another fertilizer—celebration. July 4th
was an instantaneous success. Communal joy erupted as fast
as post riders could spread the news that the Continental
Congress had declared the American colonies independent of
Great Britain.
Celebrating independence that first summer of 1776 forged
bonds of patriotic unity, but nearly proved meaningless when
George Washington and his inexperienced army came close to
defeat before the season ended. Yet they survived, and for
the next eight years of bloody war, July 4th became a hallowed
occasion to renew American commitment to win on the battlefield
what they had only declared to be true on July 4th, 1776—independence.
It is not surprising that 232 years later, many other purposes
have shared July 4th festivities with the cause of independence—purposes,
such as forging a nation when the Revolution ended and seeking
fulfillment of those human rights that we hold “self-evident.”
Celebration, of course, is a far more desirable manure for
this remarkable fruit than the shedding of blood.
Although the first July 4th anniversaries emphasized values
and beliefs that Americans shared in common (such was the
need at the time), even then, many different paths and purposes
led to American independence. The stories, as diverse and
complicated as they may be, are worth the retelling.
The fact is, and it is not a bad thing, that we, today, respond
well to tales told of the quirks of character and fate. We
are far more attuned to irony than our ancestors. And I don’t
think it is simply a desire to hear of skeletons in closets
or dirty laundry. A due consideration of human complexity,
even blunders, should not diminish the achievements of the
past, but give life, color and texture to ancient events.
Among other things, such stories give us the chance to better
answer the question: what would we have done? To ask this
question once or twice over the Fourth of July holiday—or
anytime—is no small thing. We’ll now follow a
jagged and rocky path from Philadelphia to the Berkshires,
when American independence was the talk and tide of the day.
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A jubilant John Adams, in a letter written to his wife Abigail
on July 3rd, 1776, imagined future generations of Americans
celebrating the momentous event of the declaration of independence.
His words seem clairvoyant:
“I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated
by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival.
It ought to be commemorated, as the day of deliverance, by
solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized
with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells,
bonfires, and illuminations, from one end of this continent
to the other, from this time forward, forevermore.”
But would John Adams be satisfied attending a July 4th celebration
today? Or would this irascible Founding Father, who devoted
his genius to the achievement of American independence, shake
his fist at ungrateful descendents lately grown forgetful
of the sacred event and distracted by the pleasures of a day
off? He would indeed be disappointed, but he would find solace
for his indignation in a pleasure of his own. Ever since independence
was first celebrated, Adams fussed and fumed at what, for
him, was a great injustice: he believed that July 4th was
the wrong day to remember. For him, Thomas Jefferson’s
moment was something of an afterthought. To the end of his
days, and to the bottom of his heart, Adams believed that
the critical event of declaring independence occurred two
days before. And so it was not July 4th Adams was extolling
in the letter just quoted. Our empathy for Adams comes with
an ironic sting as we read the conclusion of his outpouring
to Abigail: “The second day of July, 1776, will be the
most memorable epocha in the history of America.” July
2nd was John Adams’ moment.
As one of Massachusetts’ delegates to the Continental
Congress, John Adams knew, as he entered the Philadelphia
State House the morning of July 1st, 1776, that the Congress
was facing an abyss. The delegates could put off no longer
their vote upon a momentous resolution made by Virginia’s
Richard Henry Lee and seconded by John Adams several weeks
earlier.
To see it as Adams saw it, we must put aside for a moment
the memorable phrases of the Declaration of Independence,
and the commitments to which it pledged Americans, present
and future. Adams and his fellow delegates faced the leviathan
nightmare of a different pledge—the pledge of a British
armada and army 30,000 strong, committed to destroy them.
Consider instead the emotional state of the delegates that
morning of July 1st. The sky was all darkness, thunder and
lightning, creating a menacing backdrop to the anticipated
debate over Lee’s resolution. But far more dangerous
were Lee’s words: “That these United Colonies
are, and of right ought to be, free and independent States,
that they are absolved from all allegiance to the British
Crown, and that all political connection between them and
the State of Great Britain is, and ought to be, totally dissolved.”
How incredibly stark: the resolution made no appeals to posterity,
no justification in their own defense. In fact, within the
walls of the State House, none were needed. Lee’s resolution
was an insider’s summary of the intense debates and
behind-the-scene negotiations of the previous months. The
reasons for independence they well knew, and, should the resolution
pass, they planned to document those reasons. In anticipation,
a committee had already been set to work—a committee
that included Thomas Jefferson, John Adams and Ben Franklin.
The delegates were also aware of another grim fact: approval
of Lee’s motion qualified as a gallows moment if ever
there was one. “We must hang together or assuredly we
will hang separately,” Ben Franklin was supposed to
have said. Weighing the odds of their success, Franklin’s
colleagues likely took very little pleasure at his humor.
Adams, for one, knew that the road ahead would be long and
bloody. And despite his courage, he must have felt a certain
sweaty discomfort around his neck. Nevertheless, on that Monday,
amidst the thunderclaps, the forge-hot conviction of the balding,
pudgy and often irritating John Adams stirred his countrymen
to a fever of resolve that joined delegates still wavering
to those fully committed into a consensus for independence.
On the following morning, July 2nd, the long awaited moment
arrived—the delegates would vote. They all knew how
it would turn out. After-hours rhetoric, constant soul searching,
and the late resolve of constituents at home, left no doubt.
Nevertheless, it must have been a scene of the highest drama,
as the resolution was read, the voice of each colony heard
and counted, and finally independence from Britain declared
by John Hancock, President of the Congress. To John Adams
the deed was done, then and there.
Although, years later, Jefferson and Adams faced irreconcilable
political differences, Jefferson always acknowledged the critical
role played by his colleague from Massachusetts when independence
hung in the balance. “A colossus on the floor”
he called him, and recollected clearly that “he came
out with a power of thought and expression that moved us from
our seats.” A delegate from New Jersey summed it up
for posterity when he called Adams the “Atlas of independence.”
It’s no wonder that July 2nd was, for John Adams, the
moment when America declared her independence.
Dr. Brian Burke is President of the Great Barrington Historical
Society and chief of Staff of Fairview Hospital.
readerspage@berkshirehomestyle.com
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