Harmonizing Sentiments
The Declaration of Independence and the Jeffersonian Idea of Self-Government, Second Edition
Summary
Excerpt
Table Of Contents
- Cover
- Title
- Copyright
- About the author
- About the book
- This eBook can be cited
- Contents
- Preface and Acknowledgments to the Second Edition
- Acknowledgments to the First Edition
- Introduction: Engaging the History of the Declaration
- Chapter 1 “A History of Repeated Injuries”: The Designs of Empire
- Chapter 2 “Let Facts Be Submitted to a Candid World”: Power on Trial
- Chapter 3 “Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness”: Jefferson and the Natural Social Order
- Chapter 4 “New Guards for Their Future Security”: The Declaration and the Constitution
- Conclusion: The Declaration and Its Implications
- Bibliographic Essay
- Appendix A: Declaration of Independence
- Appendix B: Strictures upon the Declaration …, by Thomas Hutchinson
- Index
Preface and Acknowledgments to the Second Edition
In 2026, the United States will celebrate the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence. Some two years ago, that fact seemed to present a good opportunity to revisit certain issues and themes that had been brought to my attention over the intervening 20 years since publication of the first edition of Harmonizing Sentiments. A number of colleagues, however, gave fair warning about the hurdles that would have to be surmounted, not the least of which was the dramatic changes that have taken place since 2001 respecting subsequent interpretations of the topic. As with any subject, the history of history changes, and that has been especially the case with histories of the Declaration and the American Revolution. Happily, on considering the newer historiography and reassessing the arguments of the first edition, I was convinced that the original thesis had become not less but more relevant.
It is not uncommon to hear authors remark that the portions of their work which they believed to be most vital are not always the ones readers find most interesting. That has certainly been the case with this book. My own view was that the third chapter explaining the intellectual roots of the preamble in early English Whig political thought was the essential heart of the book. Those roots informed the meaning of the pursuit of happiness and gave substance to the idea of self-government in the context of a vibrant civil society of predominantly voluntary commitments. To my mind, the various strands of thought that contributed to this understanding formed an interlocking set of ideals from which contemporaries of the Revolution could draw confidence in their ability to be free and independent of the empire. Consequently, this part of the text and the opening chapter narrating the coming of the Revolution have remained largely the same with only minor corrections and alterations in prose.
Interestingly, most readers appear to have preferred the second chapter’s focus on the grievances. There are good reasons for this to which I readily concede. As noted in both the earlier and present edition, this was the largest part of the document, and it was to this part of the work that most loyalists gave their closest attention. This concern for the grievances has also been the predominant interest of most historians, but the reasons for that interest have changed over the intervening two decades. Considerable attention is now focused on those grievances concerning slavery that were omitted by Congress, and the remaining charge concerning incitement of domestic insurrection.
The meaning and implications of these alterations in the text now take up a larger part of the analysis in the second chapter. After providing some of the context of the original complaints articulated by Jefferson around a long-standing recognition of the moral embarrassment of bound servitude in the colonies, the charge of inciting insurrection is set within the larger framework of Whig thought. More particularly, I argue, the newer histories have forgotten that this specific grievance was an articulation of one of the best-known critiques of slavery, most famously enunciated by Montesquieu in what was then the most widely read political tract of the time, his Spirit of the Laws. Slavery, it was widely understood, contributed to the weakness of otherwise free republics, providing despots with the opportunity to divide society against itself. Here was not only a charge against the king, but also a recognition of the fundamental weakness of slavery itself.
As in the original work, chapter four deals with the relationship of the Declaration and the Constitution but also expands on the slavery issue, showing in greater detail how that question divided the representatives at the Philadelphia convention. One of the really interesting points that is not often recognized is the extent to which antislavery sentiments crossed both localist and nationalist divides, at times setting William Patterson of the New Jersey Plan alongside arch centralizer Gouverneur Morris. But in the end, the compromises that were reached fell short of the ideals of the Declaration for pragmatic purposes of union. In this instance, one of the weaknesses of faith in a largely self-governing society was the belief that slavery was an institution in decline. Tragically, unforeseen economic and technological developments created conditions for slavery’s resurgence.
The concluding chapter now significantly expands on this last point and its implications for the early republic. The ideal type of the self-governing American captured in the Declaration was increasingly challenged by the growing cultural divide separating northern and southern states, where the latter began to articulate a national program for the more uniform enforcement of the third clause of Article 4, section 2, of the Constitution requiring the return of fugitive slaves. In this context, the earlier revolutionary consensus around the ideals of the Declaration could no longer hold the union together. The current edition expands on the ways in which states in the north attempted to interpose against the enforcement of the Fugitive Slave Acts, protesting the interference in their internal police powers. The conclusion thus problematizes the usual scenario that antislavery sentiment was always the provenance of nationalist and centralizing forces in American politics. There was a “unionism” of the South that needs to be contrasted with a “states’ rights” of the North. In the effort to fully appreciate historical context, I argue, one has to have a sense of the ironic.
The bibliographic essay that follows brings the discussion of the literature up to date and sets out the different ways the older and newer historiography concerning the Declaration tend to view the nature of context. The attempt here is to make sense of the complexities unearthed by the earlier histories while resisting the overly narrow explanatory mode of some of the more recent genre.
Lastly, and what to my mind is a signal benefit of revision, I was finally able to do away with the “Errata Page” that had been inserted in the earlier edition, and to address some other errors discovered by readers over the past two decades. While none of these detracted from the essential thesis, I am glad to finally resolve them here. No doubt there are others yet to be discovered, for which the responsibility is wholly mine.
As with the first edition, I have incurred a number of intellectual debts. I want to again thank Lorraine Whitney of the Liberty Fund library for obtaining important sources and articles. It has been a great pleasure working with her these many years. And thanks are also due once more to Patti Ordower for her helpful advice at various stages in the preparation of the manuscript. Also, I would like to thank my colleagues Amy Willis and Thea Buress of the Online Library of Liberty for the opportunity to write the lead essay, “Understanding Jefferson: Slavery, Race, and the Declaration of Independence” (July 2021), for the Liberty Matters online roundtable discussion, and for the permissions needed to use the relevant portions of my contributions to the website in this monograph. That project began this revision process, and I am particularly indebted to those who participated in that dialogue for their critical responses which helped immensely to clarify my thinking: Susan Love Brown, Peter S. Onuf, Lucas E. Morel, and Hannah Spahn.
I would also like to acknowledge the assistance of my longtime colleague and friend Steve Ealy, who was so helpful with the first edition. Our many critical back-and-forth sessions over different aspects of the essay and this project were invaluable. My thanks go to Phil Magness as well, for our discussions of the theoretical bases of the new histories. Thanks are also due to Jeff Hummel for a number of insightful suggestions and his willingness to take my questions without any advance warning, and to Liberty Fund’s management team, Sean Shelby and Brian Pawlowski, for granting the flexibility needed to complete these revisions. My thanks are also owing to the editor of Peter Lang, Philip Dunshea, for his support of the project and for granting me the extensions required to finish, and to Holly Halvorson Southern for preparing the final manuscript and putting everything in good order. Finally, I must thank my family for their patience and support as I revisited this subject. Without Erika’s encouragement, this would not have been possible.
Acknowledgments to the First Edition
The idea for this book grew out of two concerns. The first was a basic dissatisfaction with the growing consensus among historians that the American revolutionaries and the entire founding generation were bereft of a coherent political tradition, but spoke numerous conflicting political tongues, with very different meanings attached to even such commonly used words as “liberty.” The second has been an ongoing concern with the way Americans presently think about the nature of self-government. Today self-government is typically taken to mean the collective expression of the majority will in government, and there is little recognition that it once meant primarily to control oneself. “Government of the self” was the original basis for republican government, reflecting the view that civil society was much more than politics. Society was made up of men and women who gave order to their lives by entering into associations on a voluntary basis, quite apart from government, for all of the various reasons of fellowship, philanthropy, faith, and commerce. It was the flourishing of this order that a limited government was meant to protect, but it was never conceived of as the source of that order, except perhaps among a few Tory loyalists. Now it appears that we often use “government” and “society” interchangeably.
To gain a better sense of the earlier definition, it seemed necessary to go back to the original statement announcing and giving the reasons for America’s independence from Great Britain: the Declaration of Independence. It also seemed like an excellent place from which to address the issue of the coherence of early American political thought. The work is thus directed to a broad audience of students and interested readers, covering the major interpretive schools on the subject, from history to political theory. The hope is that this work will encourage continued interest in and exploration of the meaning of American self-government and society, so as to further our civil discourse about who we are as a people.
Over the course of writing this work I have incurred a number of intellectual debts. For suggested readings, comments on various rough drafts of some of the early chapters, and moral support, I want to thank John Alvis and my colleagues in history, William C. Dennis and George M. Curtis. Michael Zuckert was generous with his time and provided exceptionally helpful comments on a late draft of the manuscript. My friend Richard B. Vernier was of considerable influence in shaping my understanding of early Whig thinking on civil society and its role in America, and I am especially grateful for his extensive comments on the third chapter. James E. Bond was very helpful both in conversations about the relationship of natural rights to the Constitution and in his close reading of the fourth chapter and the conclusion.
For his assistance in ferreting out the history of the idea of Parliamentary supremacy, I am thankful for the breadth of knowledge and the library of Emilio Pacheco. On the sources of early Whig thought, especially in regard to common law and the ancient Saxon constitution, James McClellan was generous with his sources and time. Steven D. Ealy helped me to understand the Straussian perspective, especially that of Harry V. Jaffa, and provided helpful comments on the bibliographic essay. I am also grateful to Eugene Miller who first suggested that I consult Jaffa’s work, and to Karl Walling, who introduced me to the essays of Martin Diamond. Jean M. Yarbrough was very kind to let me read an early draft of a chapter of hers on the meaning of Jefferson’s pursuit of happiness.
I also benefited from more informal discussions with Randy Simmons on the history of power and the meaning of government; Douglas Rasmussen on the history and implications of natural law philosophy; Tom Palmer on Thomas Paine’s notion of social order; M. Stanton Evans on the medieval origins of constitutional thought; Leonard Liggio on Destutt de Tracy and the influence of French liberalism; Barry Shain on Christianity and politics in early America; Susan Collins on the ancient meaning of autonomy; and Nicholas Capaldi on the early conceptualization of this project.
Finally, Joyce Appleby provided important references to sources at the very outset of the project and helpful comments on the final drafts, but my debt is considerably greater. Relying as I do on her insights into the centrality of economic thought to early liberal ideas, my thinking on this topic reflects the enduring influence of her mentoring in my graduate years.
In addition to the encouragement of all those just mentioned, their disagreements also helped to clarify my thinking, and any errors that remain are due entirely to my own stubbornness. In locating materials, Lorraine Whitney of the Liberty Fund Library was of tremendous assistance, as were Susan Thomlinson and Carrie Rosar before her. Dan Kirklin and Patti Ordower were very helpful to me with their advice on how to prepare the manuscript. Also, my assistant, Nila Spears, must be thanked for her patience and diligence during those times when my focus on this project threatened to pull me away from the pressing duties of a Liberty Fund Fellow. And to my family, for their understanding and patience during what was a difficult and trying two years, thank you is not sufficient.
Introduction: Engaging the History of the Declaration
During the first four decades of the American republic, the irascible William Findley was the leading state politician of the western Pennsylvania backcountry. He had seen action as a captain in the Seventh Company of the Eighth Battalion of Cumberland County Associators during the Revolution, was an outspoken Anti-Federalist during the state’s ratifying convention, and was a persistent critic of both state and national public finances. Many a high-born Philadelphian of the likes of Robert Morris and James Wilson crossed swords with William Findley only to come away with a healthy respect for his tenacity and shrewd political sense.
It came as little surprise that Findley would write the definitive critique of the first administration’s handling of the western counties’ resistance to the federal excise tax on whiskey in the early 1790s. In that work Findley felt compelled to remind his readers that America was great not because of those in power or because of its “privileged orders,” but derived its “dignity and importance, through the natural and honourable channels of prudence and industry.”1 These were not political qualities, but social values of individual responsibility and integrity. Government in America was not their source. They sprang from the people through their own private and civil associations. But when government exercised power badly, it threatened to break up those “natural and honourable channels.” State and society were not the same. It was not so long ago that this distinction was still part of American understanding.
In the earliest dictionaries of American English, the definition of self-government was not political but reflected the same personal quality expressed by Findley—it was the “government of one’s self.” This remained true as late as 1959 when the Merriam-Webster dictionary defined self-government as “self-control; self-command,” and self-control meant, simply, “control of one’s self.” The second definition followed, and is the one usually expressed today as majority rule. What was unusual for a dictionary definition was that this second definition was made dependent on the first: “Hence, government by the joint action of the mass of people constituting a civil body; also, the state of being so governed; specifically, democratic government.” By the inclusion of “Hence,” the dictionary reflected the view that you could not have democracy or the rule of law without individuals capable of governing themselves. The present edition of the dictionary has dropped that beginning, and today, we appear to think primarily of the collective, governmental meaning of self-government.2 Indeed, many current English dictionaries simply list majority rule as the only definition of the term. To recapture a sense of the older notion, we need to go back to a time when Americans still maintained a clear conception of themselves as a people composed of individuals capable of self-government.3 The American Revolution was the dramatic culmination of just such a moment.
The Objective of the Present Work
The Declaration of Independence holds “that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed.” But when is the point surpassed where a people react to the frustrations of the day and take a chance on a new political order? Resisting the familiar, they might improve their lives or—just as likely—bring on something far worse. By what reasoning do they summon the courage to confront that uncertainty? This was the political and social dilemma facing the British colonists in North America in 1776. The Declaration was the synthesis of reasons and principles by which the colonists, united in a confederation of states, fortified themselves to plunge into the unknown condition of independence.
This work attempts to explain the basis for that decision by relating it to the essential themes running through Anglo-American political thought. The intention is not to be original, but rather to introduce the reader to the primary reasons underlying America’s resolve to declare in favor of independence. Different schools of interpretation are introduced to illustrate the wide disparity of views among scholars, but the work is not meant to be an exercise in historiography. Instead, it seeks to show that the leading contributions on the nature of the American Revolution in general, and the Declaration of Independence in particular, are actually component parts of a coherent liberal tradition that speaks directly to the meaning of self-government.
Details
- Pages
- XVI, 304
- Year
- 2024
- ISBN (PDF)
- 9781433185663
- ISBN (ePUB)
- 9781433185670
- ISBN (MOBI)
- 9781433185687
- ISBN (Softcover)
- 9781433185656
- DOI
- 10.3726/b18020
- Language
- English
- Publication date
- 2024 (January)
- Keywords
- liberty common law Jefferson Locke Sidney Pursuit of Happiness Montesquieu American Revolution Independence John Adams Benjamin Franklin Harmonizing Sentiments Hans L. Eicholz
- Published
- New York, Berlin, Bruxelles, Chennai, Lausanne, Oxford, 2024. XVI, 320 pp.
