March 2005 Archives

WR 121
27 February 2005

Mothers and Sons

In their respective accounts of the American Revolution, Edmund S. Morgan and G. M. Trevelyan present very different portrayals of the relationship between the “mother country” (Trevelyan 467), England, and its brood of thirteen colonies which were fast becoming America. Morgan, the American historian, takes the role of the son in this metaphorical relationship. His position is that the United States, in many ways the progeny of England and the British Empire, had grown to the point of being its own mature entity, de facto, and that it was time for this new country to make its independence complete. This pragmatically optimistic perspective is in evidence even in the title of his book, of which his account is an excerpt: The Birth of the Republic, 1763-1789. Trevelyan, on the other hand, viewing the war and the conflict which preceded it from the parental perspective of the Empire which gave birth to that American Republic, sees the Colonies of the late 1700s as immature, “mutually jealous [and] provincial in thought” (467). In A Shortened History of England, he gives a broader political picture of the conflict in the Colonies, and takes a longer view of the events related to the War, a view that is facilitated by the comparatively long history of his native England. Additionally, he recollects the human pain that complicated the process more clearly than perhaps the “‘Sons of Liberty’” (468) in the United States ever will. These differences of perspective, analogous to those expressed by a child and his of her parent as the child begins to demand independence, manifest consistently throughout each account and give the reader insight into the respective nationality of each author.

Overall, Morgan’s younger American culture is reflected in the short timeframe he chooses to deal with, beginning just as America was finding its beginnings, and in his relatively uncomplicated description of international relationships, political sentiments, and the War itself. Morgan’s piece deals with the American Revolution as it affected the future of America. His timeframe deals almost exclusively with the years between 1775 and 1778, and the primary components of his discussion are events and actions, specifically those that took place on American soil. The idea of a different solution to the ongoing conflict with England does not come up in his account. He seems to hold that the war was necessary and important, and he theorizes about some strategies and blunders that were important to the outcome of the war, an outcome that he views as American victory.

By contrast, Trevelyan sets his account of the Revolution in the context of the international politics of the century leading up to the American Revolution. A century represents more than a third of the American cultural life span thus far, and encompasses many movements and events that do not have direct causal relationships. But relative to the much longer cultural history of Great Britain, 100 years is a manageable chunk of history, and one that can be seen as pertinent to events culminating in the 1770s. Trevelyan further exhibits traits 0f his culture’s maturity by addressing the complex of personalities and human characters which brought to bear on the situation. He gives a multifaceted look at both English and American motivations, bringing what is considered an advanced stage in the maturation process of an individual, the ability to empathize with others, to this cultural analysis. In addition, he devotes time to looking at whether there could have been other potential outcomes to the conflict, and seems to view the war less as a victory for the Americans than as an unfortunate, and in some ways tragic, end to mutual provocation.

Morgan’s cultural youthfulness is expressed in a number of ways, but one significant example is his claim that the “daring and the initiative” (464) of Washington was a determining factor in his greatness. These traits that Morgan values in Washington, as well as being admired by many culturally American individuals, are remarkably similar to the types of traits teenagers look for in celebrities who are potential targets for their idol-worship. In fact, the traits put forward by persons wishing to project an image “marketable” to teenagers have, for many years, been just those: daring and initiative. “Living by one’s wits,” “living in the moment,” and “living on the edge” are popular mantras in the world of enthusiasm, inhibition about enthusiasm, and resultant angst that are commonly thought of as the adolescent experience.

The province of adolescent thought on the nature of greatness tends to ignore or even look down upon characteristics associated with the authority, diligence, and willingness to “play the game,” or engage in the politics of compromise, which are often projected by parental figures. Trevelyan however, focuses on just such attributes in his assessment Washington’s greatness: “ . . . the Radicals would never have overcome the trained soldiers of George III . . . had they not been lead by . . . a first-class soldier, organizer, and disciplinarian.” For Trevelyan, the factors deciding Washington’s greatness were his genius as a statesman, the fact that he was in possession of a “‘continental’ mind” (468), able to foresee that his cause “was bound, in the stress of war, to become the cause of American Independence” (468), and his ability, both socially and politically, to bridge the gap between such divergent groups as the “backwoodsm[e]n of the Alleghenies” (466) and the “gentlem[e]n of Virginia” (468), groups which may otherwise have been provincial to the exclusion of the other.

In expressing his contention that the war did not begin as “the cause of American Independence,” as is implied in the opening line of Morgan’s telling, but that it came to encompass that cause only under its own effect, Trevelyan reveals one of many subtle, though deep, differences between his and Morgan’s respective interpretations of the War. Another one of these can be seen in the contrast between the two authors’ thinking concerning the enduring legacy of the War itself. These differences, though they continue to be re-enforced throughout, are articulated succinctly in the first line of each essay.

Morgan begins in this way: “The men who fixed their signatures to the Declaration of Independence would not have done so without some expectation of success” (462). The word success has generally quite positive connotations, and quite definite parameters. One succeeds at attaining a favorable goal, such as personal fulfillment or high social status, whereas one fails to avoid a disagreeable situation, such as financial ruin or loss of good reputation. It is either the one or the other, and the other has almost universally negative connotations. Such dualistic thinking, characterized by an uncomplicated sense of right versus wrong, is typical of the adolescent and preadolescent mindset. Americans look happily upon the results of their battle for independence, celebrate the independence with fireworks and revelry, and push from their minds the casualties in human life that were incurred in effecting it. There is really no discussion of the tragedy of war in Morgan’s account. There even seems to be a sort of nonchalant quality to some of his treatments of combat: “Most [Americans] preferred to go along with their countrymen; and once they had spent some months in camp, perhaps shooting at the British and being shot at by them, they were likely to return committed to the Revolution” (462-3). In the teenager’s quest for independence, the fear of his own mortality seems a distant specter.

For the British, however, the war did not begin with a pursuit of independence, and neither does Trevelyan’s account of it. His first line is decidedly less upbeat than Morgan’s, as well as being somewhat less qualitative: “The disappearance of the French flag from the North American Continent as a result of the Seven Years’ War led to the disruption of the British Empire” (465). Disruption is not often a good thing. A refreshing dip in the lake does not so much disrupt one’s evening stroll as provide one with a pleasant interlude; though one’s walk might be disrupted by being pushed down into a mud puddle. Likewise, the War was for the British, though in no way as inconsequential as the particular disruption I use as an example, not the beginning of their national history as it was for the Americans, but an unwelcome episode in its course. However, disruption and interlude are not antonyms, and the disruption itself, though perhaps unpleasant at the time, is by its very nature transitory: one event in the course of a long history. This broad view and less “black and white” perspective on the value of an event is one that a parent might try to impart to his or her child. Perhaps, Trevelyan suggests, the after effects of this disruption would prove to be positive, as

“ . . . from the broken eggshell of the old British Empire emerged two powers, each destined to rapid growth–a new British Empire that should still bestride the globe . . . and a united American State that should spread from Pacific to Atlantic . . . in the place of thirteen little, mutually jealous colonies upon the Atlantic coast” (469).

“In breaking the barriers to your independence and disrupting the ‘family,’” the Mother country tells her son, “you may create not only your own identity, but catalyze the re-formation of your parent’s identity.” Though neither a typical parent nor the British Empire may feel warmly toward a rebelling child at the time of that turmoil, the child’s rebellion is most likely not the defining event in the life of the family, and the parent is the more likely to have the perspective to understand that. Clearly, England did not crumble when America broke free. As I write this, more than two hundred years later, England is still a major cultural and political power, and the British pound is worth nearly twice the American dollar.

But perhaps some of the effects of the disruption were not so positive. In fact, Trevelyan refers to the war as a “catastrophe” (467). He talks about the Americans employing “tarring-and-feathering and other local methods of making opinion unanimous” (468). This seems a far cry from Morgan’s choice of words above. In Morgan’s account, it sounds as though, if after his time “in camp” an American decided to remain loyal to the Crown, he simply said “thanks, but no thanks,” and went on about his business. In truth, this was not so much the case as one might gather from reading the sanguine American perspective. The parent, as Trevelyan, does tend to have the perspective to apprehend the child’s inconsistencies, as well as the child’s inability to critically assess his or her own actions. But moreover, the parent can understand that freedom isn’t always everything it’s cracked up to be. The parent, as Trevelyan, can see that there are many frightening moments that stain the process of transition and, potentially, unattractive ramifications that endure long after the process is complete.

Perhaps most revealing of Trevelyan’s mature and multivalent understanding of the significance of the War is the contrast between the lines that he closes his account with, and those that Morgan employs to close his. Morgan’s maintain his ingenuous preoccupation with the mundane, tactical particulars of the War, particulars still distinct in America’s brief historical memory by virtue of their unique significance in the life of the nation, but perhaps not so significant in the Grand Scheme:

“France renounced all future possession of the Bermuda Islands and any part of North America east of the Mississippi. If the United States conquered Canada or the Bermudas in the course of the war, France would recognize them as part of the United States. The two parties agreed to make no separate peace with Great Britain, and neither was to lay down arms until the independence of the United States was assured.”

Trevelyan, however, is able to look closely enough to see the human tragedy of the War itself, as well as to see the legacy of that tragedy, alive still in America’s continued predisposition towards defining itself in terms of its vitriolic beginnings, and in the way in which those beginnings continue to affect America’s relationship with England. Yet, Trevelyan maintains distance enough from that tragedy to convey the significance of American independence in a larger sense:

“It was well that America was made. It was tragic that the making could only be effected by a war with Britain. The parting was perhaps inevitable at some date and in some form, but the parting in anger, and still more the memory of that moment’s anger fondly cherished by America as the starting-point of her history, have had consequences that we rue to this day” (469).

BEFORE Lasic brand lasic eye surgery, Emily was a "square."

But NOW Emily is a "cool dude," thanks to Lasic brand lasic eye surgery!

Reading.

Eating.

Talking to the server about the funny dude who laughed for so long about his bobo.

And, as such, I offer this: A Better Written Paper.

And We Deliverrr!

My Paper by David Galli.

Finals week. Ah, finals week. What an experience. The day after tomorrow marks the last class of my first term in college. (A word that I still want to spell with a "d": colledge... I'm from the east coast.)

Anyhow, I'm burtsing with want for making music, cleaning my filty "digs," and generally doing WHAT I want WHEN I want to. (Sock it tuh thuh Man!)

VIBRATIONS, though! Other local celebrities have been talking about somthing in the air (no, not the cumblossoms; ENERGY!) and I dig that jive.

O.K., Readership, it's time for a vote:
Should I post my papers from class? (in a finished state, this time, I promise!) How bored are the desk jockies?

Always with the "David, here's my rent," and the "David, do you want anything from the store?" and the "I'm really sorry, but do you think you could fix the toilet? It seems to be leaking..."

And I'm like "I'll tell YOU when the toilet's leaking!" And ALWAYS when I'm on the fifth hole! It's like they can read my mind.