Miracle at Philadelphia

A review of sorts

Catherine Drinker Bowen, Miracle at Philadelphia: The Story of the Constitutional Convention, May to September 1787 (1966) has been reprinted in multiple editions since its original publication. My copy, acquired more than 35 years ago, is the twentieth anniversary Book of the Month Club edition.

The book is a narrative history of the events of one momentous summer. Bowen makes clear at the outset that the Constitutional Convention would not be known by that name until many years later. The Grand Convention or Federal Convention, as it was known in 1787, was sanctioned "for the express purpose of revising the Articles of Convention" (4). Although some members clung to this purpose, there were several who expected to replace the Articles from the very beginning. Had it not been for members maintaining secrecy of the contents of their day-to-day discussions, there likely would have been considerable public dissension. Bowen focuses on the men and their debates that summer as they crafted a constitution that still serves as the founding document for the United States government.

Although Miracle at Philadelphia has resided on my bookshelves for nearly four decades, it sat unread until this month. Long has been my impression that it supports a view popular in certain circles that our Constitution is a sacred text, that the "miracle" of 1787 was due to divine intervention.* Memory of how and when this book came into my possession is hazy, but likely stems from an active interest that I had during the mid-1980s in understanding the view that I believed it represented. I did not share that view then, and now reject it on the basis of deeper and broader knowledge than was mine then.

 

In the mid-1980s, a man whom I knew as a fellow member of a Bible study group suggested several times that I would enjoy Peter Marshall and David Manuel, The Light and the Glory: Did God Have a Plan for America? (1977). "Since you like history, you'll love this book," he told me. I was employed as a substitute teacher while looking for a full-time job teaching high school history. After much prodding, I bought Marshall and Manuel's book, read it, and found it terrible. The authors began with a premise that is rooted in religious belief, offered shallow reference to some Bible verses, and then invested months looking for any scraps of evidence that confirmed their assumption. They even employed a large number of volunteer researchers to help with the task. Their narrative makes clear that accurate history was not the objective.

The Light and the Glory was written well-enough that is was easy reading despite obvious failures as a work of credible history. Even so, at the time I shared their vision for a Christian awakening in the United States. I did not agree that we had been a Christian nation from the beginning, at least not in the sense that they understood it.

A few years earlier, perhaps spring 1981, some of the views pushed by Marshall and Manuel were the focus of a film and rally that I had attended. Certain details are no longer clear in my memory. The film presented images of a religious rally in Washington D.C., where Christians gathered to pray. Perhaps it was the Washington for Jesus rally held in April 1980. My clearest memories of the event in Beasley Performing Arts Coliseum on the campus of Washington State University, where I was a student, are singing, holding hands with those beside me, and swaying from side-to-side. Throughout the evening a single Bible verse was repeated over and over again. "If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land" (2 Chronicles 7:14).

Marshall and Manuel also deploy this verse.

I recall having the opinion that this verse had been wrenched from its context to apply it inappropriately to the United States. Central to this memory is the heated argument my friend Vic and I had as we walked back to our dorm. He did not share my concern that the Bible verse was misapplied. We were part of a religious group that emphasized careful Bible study, reading the Bible cover-to-cover annually, and memorizing Bible verses. I spent my first two summers during college at summer training in San Diego with this group. The second summer was devoted to four hours per day of careful and detailed study of a single book of the Bible (Colossians). I still value the close reading skills that I honed that summer, as they have proven useful for texts of all sorts.

Reading 2 Chronicles 7 as a whole does not lead me to think that it applies in any manner whatsoever to the United States. The belief that is does has had growing influence among the Religious Right since the 1980s. When this religious belief is supported by inaccurate history, it merits criticism.

When I acquired Miracle at Philadelphia, I intended to read it. More than likely, I expected that it would reveal itself part of the bad history pushed in The Light and the Glory. I was wrong.

George Washington wrote in a letter to Marquis de Lafayette:

It appears to me, then, little short of a miracle, that the Delegates from so many different States (which States you know are also different from each other in their manners, circumstances and prejudices) should unite in forming a system of national Government, so little liable to well founded objections.
Washington to Lafayette, 7 February 1788 (at Founders Online)

This quote appears as a headnote at the beginning of Miracle at Philadelphia. My assumption that the book's title represented a theocratic perspective should have been easy to dismiss. In fact, aside from a snark finding "odd" the "slight taint of the Sunday school"** concerning Washington, the entrance of divine power in Bowen's telling of the story of the Convention begins with Franklin's call to prayer near the end of June (28, 125-127). This episode is well-known and always struck me as illustrative of Franklin's pragmatism.

Bowen's narrative of the call to prayer consists almost entirely of excerpts from Franklin's speech and the subsequent discussion as recorded by Madison and others. She begins with a physical description of Franklin, "sitting with the famous double spectacles low on his nose" (125). Then two paragraphs of Franklin's speech, summary of a portion of the speech, and then Franklin's call for action.

I therefore beg leave to move that henceforth prayers imploring the assistance of Heaven, and its blessings on our deliberations, be held in this Assembly every morning before we proceed to business, and that one or more of the Clergy of this City be requested to officiate in that service.
Benjamin Franklin, 28 June 1787, as quoted by Bowen (126)

Roger Sherman seconded Franklin's motion, there was a brief discussion, but no vote was taken. Decades later, before most of the primary documents became available, an account of this event was presented in a letter by a man who claimed to be telling a story as he learned it from one of those present. This letter was then published and widely distributed.

According to this account, after Franklin's motion:

The doctor sat down, and never (said Gen. D.) did I behold a countenance at once so dignified and delighted as was that of Washington, at the close of this address! Nor were the members of the Convention, generally less affected. The words of the venerable Franklin fell upon our ears with a weight and authority, even greater than we may suppose an oracle to have had in a Roman senate! A silent admiration superseded, for a moment, the expression of that assent and approbation which was strongly marked on almost every countenance ...The three days of recess were spent in the manner advised by Doctor Franklin; the opposite parties mixed with each other, and a free and frank interchange of sentiments took place. On the fourth day we assembled again, and if great additional light had not been thrown on the subject, every unfriendly feeling had been expelled; and a spirit of conciliation had been cultivated, which promised, at least, a calm and dispassionate reconsideration of the subject.
William Steele to Jonathan Steele, September 1825 (Records of the Federal Convention of 1787)

Although Bowen does not mention Steele by name, she references some of the contents of this letter: "it was rumored that Hamilton had said ironically the Convention was not in need of 'foreign aid'. This is palpable nonsense" (127). James Madison refers to the account in the letter as "erroniously given" (Madison to Jared Sparks, 8 April 1831, Founders Online).

The myth propagated by Steele may be better known than a more accurate narrative rooted in primary sources produced by those at the convention.

Debates continued without resolution, according to Bowen, and then the Convention took a recess. Up to this point in the book, Bowen's narrative follows the Convention day-by-day and does not steer far from the available primary sources. Then, she departs from the Convention itself to sketch in some details about the American people, the land, and some of the issues of the day, especially focusing on the ways these issues produced sectional divisions between north and south, large states and small, and conflicts over how the West should be developed and governed. When she returns to the Convention itself, she mentions a letter Franklin wrote to the Pennsylvania Packet three days after the Great Compromise. From there she works back to the compromise itself.

After two months of constant bickering between large states and small, it was finally agreed on 16 July 1787 that there would be equal representation of each state in the Senate and proportional representation of each state in the House.

Was Franklin's call to prayer the decisive turning point? Marshall and Manuel state that it was.

That speech--and the sober reflection in the silence which followed--marked the turning-point. Their priorities rearranged by Franklin's startling admonition, the delegates, nearly all of whom were believers of one kind or another, got on with the business of crafting a new constitution. (343)

Bowen's narrative of what led to the Great Compromise could be read as the hand of divine power, but also admits natural explanations: 

Perhaps the delegates would never have reached agreement, had not the heat broken. By Monday, July sixteenth, Philadelphia was cool after a month of torment; ... Even the mosquitoes were quiescent, though on the streets at noon the horseflies droned and darted. (186)

Bowen's narrative is a lively read. My neglect of this book for nearly four decades was an error. She contests rather than supports the myths propagated by Marshall and Manuel.

I do wish, however, that the author had not opted to leave out clear documentation. She states that she had copious footnotes and deleted them.

The book's opening paragraph sent me in search. It, too, was focused on the weather in that hot Philadelphia summer. She mentions a diarist stated there were fewer "cooling thunderstorms" and then, "Perhaps the new 'installic rods' everywhere fixed on the houses might have robbed the clouds of their electric fluid" (3). Benjamin Franklin invented the lightning rod. The glimpse Bowen gives the reader here of the popularity of his invention and of the state of eighteenth century scientific understanding of the weather and human agency would be worth pursuing through the sources she does not divulge.


  
*Although principally authored by Thomas Jefferson, The Declaration of Independence also gets pulled into the orbit of those holding this view. See Pauline Maier, American Scripture: Making the Declaration of Independence (1997).

**Bowen mentions Parson Weems: "perhaps Parson Weems will never be lived down" (28). Mason Locke "Parson" Weems, A History of the Life and Death, Virtues and Exploits of General George Washington (1800) was a popular book as is the source of many apocryphal stories about Washington and events that took place in eighteenth century America.

John Adams and the Holy Ghost

This morning I was browsing at American Creation, a high quality history blog. I read and watched videos in an old post by Lindsey Shuman, "David Barton: Liar" (March 2009). It has been one of their most popular posts.

In the videos Chris Rodda, author of Liars for Jesus: The Religious Right's Alternate Version of American History (2006), discusses some of her problems with Barton. She presented him with a copy of her book at one of his lectures. A few months later, according to Rodda, he mentioned the episode on his radio show, but fabricated a conversation that did not occur. She discusses his claim, plays a video of the conversation to support her version of the event, and then discusses his creative misreading of a letter that John Adams wrote to Benjamin Rush in 1809--part of his lecture that night. Barton owns the original letter and has posted a photo of the letter with a modernized transcription on his WallBuilders website.

In May this year, Barton appeared on The Daily Show where he was confronted regarding his reading of the letter. Warren Throckmorton's post lays out the context that Barton ignores (because it reveals how wrong he is concerning Adams' meaning). In the blog entry, "David Barton and John Adams--The Holy Ghost Letter”, Throckmorton offers some choice links to others who have refuted some of Barton's claims.

After a quick run through several blog entries, I went to the Online Library of Liberty to search the ten volume The Works of John Adams at Online Library of Liberty. I sought the Holy Ghost in this voluminous work, finding a mere six entries. One seems in the spirit of what Rodda, Throckmorton, and others are saying regarding Adams' presentation of views that he held in contempt: a letter to F.A. Vanderkemp, 13 July 1815. The key paragraph states:

So far he's posing a simple question about the basis of authority. As a descendant of Puritans and a devout Christian, we might expect that he sees authority as emanating from God.

My friend, again! the question before mankind is,—how shall I state it? It is, whether authority is from nature and reason, or from miraculous revelation; from the revelation from God, by the human understanding, or from the revelation to Moses and to Constantine, and the Council of Nice. Whether it resides in men or in offices.

But as he elaborates, he almost seems to be mocking the belief that somehow the Holy Spirit anoints political leaders.

Whether offices, spiritual and temporal, are instituted by men, or whether they are self-created and instituted themselves. Whether they were or were not brought down from Heaven in a phial of holy oil, sent by the Holy Ghost, by an angel incarnated in a dove, to anoint the head of Clovis, a more cruel tyrant than Frederic or Napoleon. Are the original principles of authority in human nature, or in stars, garters, crosses, golden fleeces, crowns, sceptres, and thrones? These profound and important questions have been agitated and discussed, before that vast democratical congregation, mankind, for more than five hundred years. How many crusades, how many Hussite wars, how many powder plots, St. Bartholomew’s days, Irish massacres, Albigensian massacres, and battles of Marengo have intervened! Sub judice lis est. Will Zinzendorf, Swedenborg, Whitefield, or Wesley prevail? Or will St. Ignatius Loyola inquisitionize and jesuitize them all? Alas, poor human nature! Thou art responsible to thy Maker and to thyself for an impartial verdict and judgment.
Adams to Vanderkemp, Accessed from http://oll.libertyfund.org/title/2127/193560/3102804 on 2011-06-11

Adams writes of holy oil direct from the Holy Ghost being used to anoint the heads of kings, even evil kings. But to say that he believes such stories strikes me as a stretch. That humans are responsible to their Creator for their actions, does seem to be something he believes. Even so, it is possible to misunderstand Adams without reference to his other writings.

Eliza Farnham's Millennial Vision

Two religious traditions are pervasive in American culture. The evangelical tradition is the spiritual; civil religion, the political. These two traditions interrelate in complex ways; sometimes in competition, they also draw power from and build one another. In Life in Prairie Land (1846) by Eliza W. Farnham these traditions interact to create a vision we might call evangelical nationalism.

Farnham ends Part I of her work with a narrative of spiritual renewal that provides a framework for understanding the millennial vision at the end of the book. She holds forth her sister as an exemplary moral character; to the extent that she follows this moral leadership, the book's structure conforms to the pattern of conversion narratives, albeit conversion as secular as it is religious.

The voice of Mary is presented as a sermon from her death bed; it is a testimonial of her life of faith. Mary reads her own life as a text:

Those were dark volumes to be opened by gay-hearted girls, that we learned to read during those seven years: gloomy commentaries on the world in which we were left to make our way to happiness or ruin.
Farnham, 148

In Mary's reading, the world is hostile, full of "tempters ... spreading their diabolical nets" (149). Her happiness results from having been blessed by God with a good mother, among other things. She testifies to the experience of God as a kind parent; it was her discovery that she could approach her "Maker as a tender father and friend" (150) who carried her through her trials. Mary characterizes her spiritual transformation as "newly awakened sentiment" (150), then turns to the climax of her sermon: evaluating Eliza Farnham's need for a similar experience.

The transition from her reading of her own experience to reading the experience of her sister employs the disarming pronoun "they".

Most young persons think their enjoyment of life will be diminished by an allegiance to the laws of christianity, but I think they are in error. Mine was infinitely increased! I wished everyone to feel as I did.
Farnham, 150

Turning then to a more personal evaluation of Farnham's need, she describes the views of her sister as those of an atheist, but in a manner that releases Farnham from full responsibility. Farnham is presented in her youth as having been changed passively by life in a "moral wilderness ... away from everything but the tyranny of a selfish, passionate woman ... [and] that woman an Atheist" (150). Having escaped this woman, however, Eliza began "to seek the education and mental culture which should have been the work of earlier years" (151).

The second half of the sermon is a defense of the American West as an Eden, with a landscape that is always feminine. But in this Eden life is hard because of unregenerate man:

I feel that the responsibility of my early death rests on human beings ... [whose] repeated transgressions of His law have placed it out of my reach to be happy and useful.
Farnham, 157

Following the death of sister Mary and her sermon was the death also of the Farnham child and attempts at consolation by the pastor. From books lent by the pastor, Farnham, "found nothing of the peace and resignation which I had often seen others manifest under similar afflictions" (167). Even so, she experienced an awakening of her spirit, "a new set of faculties was called into action" (167).

The consolation to which her sister testified was now hers. Mary's sermon forms part of the text of the conversion narrative of Eliza Farnham, and Mary's experience becomes descriptive of Farnham's experience. Farnham, however, occupies a marginal place within the evangelical tradition. Hers is not the testimony of repentance from sin and salvation in Christ.

But the comfort which I found was no miraculous shining forth of anything external to myself; it was no overflowing fountain which poured itself out, independent of my own state of mind; such as many seem to have found, but simply a more exalted action of some powers which I had always possessed, and a partial subduing of others. ... I found no power superior to my own mind.
Farnham, 168

Her consolation was not one of personal redemption; it was the feeling "that there were infinite love and infinite pity in the divine Mind" (168). Theologically, she is much more in tune with Ralph Waldo Emerson than with traditional evangelical piety; in contrast to Emerson, however, she emphasizes affections and feminine virtues.

Life in Prairie Land as a whole forms a larger conversion narrative theologically compatible with Emerson's "Nature" (1836). The entirety of Eliza Farnham's experience in the West culminates in a religious vision of nationalist expansion in the final chapter. In reading this experience, Eliza again follows the lead of her sister Mary.

Farnham surveys the history of settlement in the West, identifying five distinct groups of inhabitants, and assessing the moral relationship of each to the land. In her mind the pattern is one of moral progression culminating in a society "free from want, from oppression, from ignorance, from fear" (268)!

Originally inhabiting the prairie was a group that Farnham encountered only through traces: she describes Indians through burial grounds and legends. Within Edenic nature lived the noble savage who simply vanishes when the land comes under cultivation. Their successors, the first EuroAmerican settlers, had much in common with the Indians. Coming from Kentucky and Virginia, these settlers had lived with, fought with, and married Indians. White in color, they were primitive in nature, according to Farnham. They applied "only partial industry" (266) to cultivation of the land.

These first settlers were pushed out by a more industrious group. These built loftier cabins and added fences and barns. This group was characterized by constant industry and determination to reap the potential of the land. However, when the land began to become crowded, they moved on, settling other regions. They sold their lots to Yankees.

The fourth group of inhabitants becomes the "permanent population" (267). They replace the cabins with "stately houses" (267). From their stock emerge the fifth and final group: inhabitants of the future. These are not new immigrants; they are those whose cultivation of the land is reciprocated in the awakening of their moral faculties by the sublime features of the land.

These future inhabitants will learn to read the land, and their experience upon it, as Farnham outlines. In her view, the land itself contains

so much to stimulate the nobler faculties and gratify the senses; so much that is calculated to induce a high state of physical development and fine perceptions of the beautiful, the grand, and the true.
Farnham, 268

As Eliza Farnham bids farewell to the prairie, she echoes her sister in greeting the millennium. Nature in the West, according to Mary, is "in her loveliest and benignest aspect" (54). In contemplating the mystery of the irresistible charm of the land, she concludes:

It is the mystery of the mighty Future which lies before a country possessing resources like ours. To bear a part in developing this, seems to me equally calculated to stimulate and gratify our noblest powers.
Farnham, 55

Evangelical concern for the future enables Farnham to publish her narrative. Her writing, often accepted by historians as a primary source concerning the settlement of the West, is as much prescriptive as descriptive. The text is a document of the ideology of manifest destiny at the very moment when that term was coming into being.