By Paul Carrier
It’s widely known among students of the American Revolution and its aftermath that John Adams and Thomas Jefferson were dear friends who later had a lengthy falling out, only to be reunited after both men had served as president.
It’s that eventual rapprochement that warms the hearts of history buffs. But what may be more incongruous is that such dramatically different men became close to begin with, having very little in common beyond their shared commitment to American independence.
As Pulitzer Prize-winning historian Gordon S. Wood makes clear in Friends Divided, a dual biography, Adams and Jefferson hailed from different socio-economic backgrounds and disparate colonies. They had dissimilar religious beliefs and were unalike in their political philosophies. Their personalities and temperaments almost were polar opposites. Even after the two men rekindled their friendship, Wood writes, they “remained divided in almost every fundamental way.”
Jefferson was a Virginia aristocrat; Adams, a Massachusetts lawyer who was by no means a member of that colony’s upper crust. Virginia was a rural colony in which plantations held sway. Massachusetts was doted with cities, towns and villages, giving it a more urban feel. More importantly, 40 percent of Virginia’s 340,000 residents in 1760 were slaves, compared to fewer than 2 percent of the 280,000 people living in Massachusetts at that time. Jefferson owned many slaves; Adams, none.
Physically removed from the hotbed of rebellion that was New England, Jefferson conceived of his enemies before 1776 as being “three thousand miles away,” in Britain. With Tories representing a much larger percentage of the population in Massachusetts than in Virginia, Wood writes, Adams quickly came to realize that his enemies “were his former friends and neighbors.” Jefferson’s opposition to British rule was intellectual and ideological; not, as it was for Adams, “tangible” and “personal.”
Part of what Wood accomplishes in Friends Divided, simply by laying out the facts of life in post-revolution America, is to further debunk the fraudulent notion that the founders were the infallible creators of a perfect political system that was carved in stone from the outset, like the tablets handed down to Moses. Nothing could be further from the truth. The United States, in the late 1700s, was awash in conflicting viewpoints and evolving political practices. To some extent, that evolution continued in the early 19th century as well. Early American democracy developed in fits and starts, through trial and error.
The Articles of Confederation, which governed the country before the adoption of the Constitution, proved to be an embarrassing failure. State constitutions created in 1776 came under attack within a few years for their deficiencies. Lengthy political debates raged for years, at both the state and national levels, over how best to structure governments and whether the birth of political parties, which the founders had not anticipated, was an asset or a liability.
Should legislatures be unicameral or bicameral? Should governors be strong or weak? If granted veto power, should the veto be absolute, meaning a legislature could not override it? Should both branches of a bicameral legislature represent all of the people, or should the Senate be set aside for society’s elites, as a counterweight to the House of Representatives? Was George Washington, as the first president elected under the Constitution, a king by a different name, as many Americans at the time would have preferred?
Jefferson and Adams jumped into this quagmire, sometimes by proposing ideas that we would view as heretical today. Adams supported lengthy, and possibly lifetime, terms of office for presidents and senators. He even broached the idea of making such offices hereditary. For his part, Jefferson believed all three branches of the federal government -- not just the Supreme Court -- had the power to decide the constitutionality of laws. And Jefferson argued that the First Amendment only prohibited Congress from restricting freedom of the press, leaving the states free to do so.
Despite their radically different personalities, the curmudgeonly, argumentative Adams and the reserved, gracious Jefferson hit it off during the Second Continental Congress. Jefferson was “so prompt, frank, explicit and decisive,” Adams said, “that he soon seized upon my heart.” Adams was “our Colossus” in Congress, Jefferson later said, a force of nature charged “with a power, both of thought and of expression, which moved us from our seats.”
The mutual affection that Adams and Jefferson developed during the struggle for independence intensified in the 1780s, when both men found themselves in Europe. But that rapport began to shatter in the 1790s as party divisions developed. It grew still worse even before Adams became president in 1797, thanks in large part to the former friends’ radically different views on the French Revolution.
Jefferson supported that revolution from the outset, and continued to do so during and after the Reign of Terror. He saw France as America’s sister republic, and feared that the collapse of the French Revolution would undermine support for democratic principles in America as well. Adams, who was as much of an Anglophile as Jefferson was a Francophile, was appalled by the violence in France and doubted whether the French — or the American people, for that matter — were virtuous enough to truly govern themselves.
Jefferson’s egalitarianism and his belief in American exceptionalism ran up against Adams’ skeptical view of self-government and his acceptance of aristocracy and hierarchy. Even their views of human nature differed, with Jefferson insisting that people tend to act responsibly if left to their own devices and Adams arguing that human vices almost always win out over reason and conscience. Jefferson was naive but inspiring, “the sage of Monticello,” courteous and optimistic. Adams was a grumpy realist, a contrarian who spoke bluntly and often displayed a biting, even self-deprecating, sense of humor.
Their split widened when Jefferson’s election as president in 1800 denied Adams a second term. To make matters worse, Jefferson and Adams’ wife, Abigail, who had once been close friends, had a falling out during an exchange of letters. Urged on by mutual friend and fellow Declaration of Independence signer Benjamin Rush of Philadelphia, Adams and Jefferson inched toward reconciliation after Jefferson left office. Then, two young Virginia brothers, John and Edward Coles, who were friends of Jefferson, visited Adams in Massachusetts and told him they had often heard Jefferson say complimentary things about him.
No stranger to bursts of emotion, Adams exclaimed: “I always loved Jefferson, and still love him.” Rush continued to poke and prod until, on Jan. 1, 1812, Adams finally broke the ice with what Wood calls “a humorous and affable letter” to Jefferson. Wood highlights the written exchanges that followed until one final event united two of the greatest founding fathers for eternity. On July 4, 1826, on the 5oth anniversary of the adoption of the Declaration of Independence, Adams and Jefferson died within hours of one another.
It’s that eventual rapprochement that warms the hearts of history buffs. But what may be more incongruous is that such dramatically different men became close to begin with, having very little in common beyond their shared commitment to American independence.
As Pulitzer Prize-winning historian Gordon S. Wood makes clear in Friends Divided, a dual biography, Adams and Jefferson hailed from different socio-economic backgrounds and disparate colonies. They had dissimilar religious beliefs and were unalike in their political philosophies. Their personalities and temperaments almost were polar opposites. Even after the two men rekindled their friendship, Wood writes, they “remained divided in almost every fundamental way.”
Jefferson was a Virginia aristocrat; Adams, a Massachusetts lawyer who was by no means a member of that colony’s upper crust. Virginia was a rural colony in which plantations held sway. Massachusetts was doted with cities, towns and villages, giving it a more urban feel. More importantly, 40 percent of Virginia’s 340,000 residents in 1760 were slaves, compared to fewer than 2 percent of the 280,000 people living in Massachusetts at that time. Jefferson owned many slaves; Adams, none.
Physically removed from the hotbed of rebellion that was New England, Jefferson conceived of his enemies before 1776 as being “three thousand miles away,” in Britain. With Tories representing a much larger percentage of the population in Massachusetts than in Virginia, Wood writes, Adams quickly came to realize that his enemies “were his former friends and neighbors.” Jefferson’s opposition to British rule was intellectual and ideological; not, as it was for Adams, “tangible” and “personal.”
Part of what Wood accomplishes in Friends Divided, simply by laying out the facts of life in post-revolution America, is to further debunk the fraudulent notion that the founders were the infallible creators of a perfect political system that was carved in stone from the outset, like the tablets handed down to Moses. Nothing could be further from the truth. The United States, in the late 1700s, was awash in conflicting viewpoints and evolving political practices. To some extent, that evolution continued in the early 19th century as well. Early American democracy developed in fits and starts, through trial and error.
The Articles of Confederation, which governed the country before the adoption of the Constitution, proved to be an embarrassing failure. State constitutions created in 1776 came under attack within a few years for their deficiencies. Lengthy political debates raged for years, at both the state and national levels, over how best to structure governments and whether the birth of political parties, which the founders had not anticipated, was an asset or a liability.
Should legislatures be unicameral or bicameral? Should governors be strong or weak? If granted veto power, should the veto be absolute, meaning a legislature could not override it? Should both branches of a bicameral legislature represent all of the people, or should the Senate be set aside for society’s elites, as a counterweight to the House of Representatives? Was George Washington, as the first president elected under the Constitution, a king by a different name, as many Americans at the time would have preferred?
Jefferson and Adams jumped into this quagmire, sometimes by proposing ideas that we would view as heretical today. Adams supported lengthy, and possibly lifetime, terms of office for presidents and senators. He even broached the idea of making such offices hereditary. For his part, Jefferson believed all three branches of the federal government -- not just the Supreme Court -- had the power to decide the constitutionality of laws. And Jefferson argued that the First Amendment only prohibited Congress from restricting freedom of the press, leaving the states free to do so.
Despite their radically different personalities, the curmudgeonly, argumentative Adams and the reserved, gracious Jefferson hit it off during the Second Continental Congress. Jefferson was “so prompt, frank, explicit and decisive,” Adams said, “that he soon seized upon my heart.” Adams was “our Colossus” in Congress, Jefferson later said, a force of nature charged “with a power, both of thought and of expression, which moved us from our seats.”
The mutual affection that Adams and Jefferson developed during the struggle for independence intensified in the 1780s, when both men found themselves in Europe. But that rapport began to shatter in the 1790s as party divisions developed. It grew still worse even before Adams became president in 1797, thanks in large part to the former friends’ radically different views on the French Revolution.
Jefferson supported that revolution from the outset, and continued to do so during and after the Reign of Terror. He saw France as America’s sister republic, and feared that the collapse of the French Revolution would undermine support for democratic principles in America as well. Adams, who was as much of an Anglophile as Jefferson was a Francophile, was appalled by the violence in France and doubted whether the French — or the American people, for that matter — were virtuous enough to truly govern themselves.
Jefferson’s egalitarianism and his belief in American exceptionalism ran up against Adams’ skeptical view of self-government and his acceptance of aristocracy and hierarchy. Even their views of human nature differed, with Jefferson insisting that people tend to act responsibly if left to their own devices and Adams arguing that human vices almost always win out over reason and conscience. Jefferson was naive but inspiring, “the sage of Monticello,” courteous and optimistic. Adams was a grumpy realist, a contrarian who spoke bluntly and often displayed a biting, even self-deprecating, sense of humor.
Their split widened when Jefferson’s election as president in 1800 denied Adams a second term. To make matters worse, Jefferson and Adams’ wife, Abigail, who had once been close friends, had a falling out during an exchange of letters. Urged on by mutual friend and fellow Declaration of Independence signer Benjamin Rush of Philadelphia, Adams and Jefferson inched toward reconciliation after Jefferson left office. Then, two young Virginia brothers, John and Edward Coles, who were friends of Jefferson, visited Adams in Massachusetts and told him they had often heard Jefferson say complimentary things about him.
No stranger to bursts of emotion, Adams exclaimed: “I always loved Jefferson, and still love him.” Rush continued to poke and prod until, on Jan. 1, 1812, Adams finally broke the ice with what Wood calls “a humorous and affable letter” to Jefferson. Wood highlights the written exchanges that followed until one final event united two of the greatest founding fathers for eternity. On July 4, 1826, on the 5oth anniversary of the adoption of the Declaration of Independence, Adams and Jefferson died within hours of one another.
An excellent and moving book review.
ReplyDelete