Pope Julius II Criticized by Renaissance Writer Erasmus

May 3, 2010 Michael Streich

Tomb of Julius II by Michelangelo - Image by Michael Streich

As the "warrior pope," Julius II defined his pontificate through wars and the glories of temporal accolades, ignoring his pastoral role as supreme shepherd.

The pontificate of Julius II coincided with several movements taking place in Europe in the 15th and 16th Centuries. 15th Century popes had witnessed their power decline and state churches, clamoring for independence from what some Renaissance writers called papal tyranny, were seeking autonomy. Church councils, such as at Constance in 1414, attempted to erode the power of the pontiff. Heretical movements expanded. In Italy, however, Pope Julius II attempted to combat these movements, albeit at the expense of spirituality. Julius is characterized as a “warrior pope.” Writer Ross King states that, “No pope before or since has enjoyed such a fearsome reputation.” But Julius had his critics, among them the Christian Humanist, Erasmus.

Erasmus Criticizes Julius II

In Praise of Folly (1511) declares that the popes “contend with fire and sword, and not without loss of much Christian blood…” (Erasmus) In his 1517 Querela Pacis, Erasmus asks, “What have the helmet and mitre in common?” It was his 1513 pamphlet, Julius Exclusus (Pope Julius Excluded from Heaven) that described in comic conversation the picture of a pope far removed from the image of St. Peter.

Presenting a hypothetical conversation between Julius and Peter at the gates of heaven, the Apostle and first pope (according to Catholic tradition), tells Julius, “I see a horrible flood of soldiers with you, smelling of nothing but brothels, drunkenness, and gun powder.” Julius asks Peter if he does not recognize him but Peter answers, “See? I certainly see a new and never-before-seen spectacle, not to say a monster.”

The warrior pope identifies himself with the initials “PM,” which stand for Pontifex Maximus, the supreme pontiff. The title was borrowed from Ancient Rome by the early church. In Rome, it referred to the chief priest and can be traced back to the Etruscan language. Peter, however, responds with Pestis Maxima. Pestis, in Latin, refers to a deadly disease or a plague; maxima can be translated as the greatest personification.

Julius as the Warrior Pope

French historian R. Aubenas writes that Julius II was, “endowed with the gifts of a warrior…” Julius personally led troops against the Venetian city-state as well as France. Ross King writes that after defeating Venice, Julius returned to Rome as a conqueror, timing his return with Palm Sunday. “The pope did not see himself merely as the new Julius Caesar.” King draws a parallel to Christ’s entry into Jerusalem. But the Roman procession was, by far, more opulent. When Venetian envoys arrived in Rome in 1510, the five ambassadors were required to kneel before the pope and kiss his foot. It was Pope Julius II who founded the Swiss Guards that protect the pope to this day.

The Reformation Weakens the Papal Monarchy

In 1517 an Augustinian monk named Martin Luther published 95 theological debate points, beginning a church reformation movement in Germany. Aubenas writes that Germany had, “a prolonged hatred of popes…” In 1545, a broadsheet, signed by Martin Luther, depicted Pope Clement IV about to decapitate Conrad IV. Although it was historically incorrect and only served the purposes of propaganda, such images stirred up “German feeling against papal claims to supremacy over Germany and the Emperor....,” according to R.W. Scribner.

Popes after Julius II would never again wield such great power or command armies. Despite the efforts of Julius II to promote a stronger papacy, the opposite occurred. Peter, in the Erasmus pamphlet, ends telling Julius, “The appearance of your whole person suggests that it is not with age and disease but through dissipation that you seem old, withered, and broken.” These words would define future papacies beset with the rise of nation states, Enlightenment philosophy, and the coming of modern civilization.

Note: Although Michelangelo completed a magnificent tomb for Pope Julius II in the basilica of St. Peter in Chains, his remains were never entombed there. (see image)

References:

• R. Aubenas, “The Papacy and the Catholic Church,” The Renaissance1493-1520, Edited by Denys Hay, The New Cambridge Modern History, Volume I (Cambridge University Press, 1957)
• Erasmus, “Pope Julius Excluded from Heaven,” Pearson/Prentice Hall Primary Source Documents, 2008
• Ross King, Michelangelo and the Pope’s Ceiling (Penguin Books, 2003)
• R.W. Scribner, Popular Culture and Popular Movements in Reformation Germany (The Hambledon Press, 1987)

Copyright Michael Streich. Contact the author to obtain permission for republication

 

Luther's Visit to Rome Influenced the Coming Reformation

Dec 7, 2010 Michael Streich

Luther's Visit to Rome in 1510/1511 - Mike Streich photo image

Martin Luther journey to Rome in late 1510 intended to reap spiritual benefits, but was impacted by a city steeped in vice and irreligious activity.

Six years before penning his Ninety-Five Theses, Martin Luther journeyed to Rome from Erfurt, accompanying an older monk on official business for the Augustinian order. For Luther, visiting Rome represented a personal pilgrimage few Christians would ever experience. Rome was the eternal city, the city of the pope. It was a treasure house of relics, watched over by the thousands of martyrs buried in the catacombs. What Luther found, however, was, as one writer commented, a “wasteland of rubble.” Some historical scholarship suggests that Luther’s eventual conclusion that the just shall live by faith began here, in the Rome he saw in 1510/1511.

Luther’s Rome was a City of Beggars, Prostitutes, and Irreligious Behavior

The Renaissance had not yet reached Rome, excepting behind the closed doors of aristocratic palaces, many owned by high ranking members of the curia. Both Michelangelo and Raphael were toiling with works of art that would come to represent the zenith of Renaissance expression. Pope Julius II, the “warrior pope,” was waging war elsewhere in Italy.

In this city, “…the proverbial cesspool of vice,” according to Luther historian Heiko Oberman, Luther and his colleague would seek a spiritual experience when not pursuing their official business. At 27, Luther was the junior representative, a chaperon of sorts who sat in antechambers while his elder companion strove to negotiate among the men of power and influence.

What Luther saw as he meandered through the dirty streets was a population of brigands, beggars, prostitutes, homosexual priests, and members of the clergy that openly mocked the Eucharist during Mass. The city itself was rundown. St. Peter’s basilica was in the earliest stages of reconstruction. It rained every day and most wealthy Romans had left the city.

Luther’s Piety and the Beginning of Doubt

Luther visited all of the principal basilicas in the city as well as particular churches that housed rare and costly relics. He prayed for his family and especially his grandfather, hoping to lessen the man’s stay in purgatory by climbing the “Holy Staircase” at the Lateran Palace on his knees, saying an “Our Father” with each step.

The staircase had been transported to Rome from Jerusalem during the days of the early church. According to tradition, these were the steps Jesus had taken to be judged by Pilate. Oberman, in his biography of Luther, cites a conversation Luther had with his son Paul much later in life. In that conversation, Luther related his first doubts, mentioned earlier by Luther to his students, and his recollection of Paul’s epistle to the Romans in which the Apostle stated that “the just shall live by faith.”

Luther’s Visit to Rome and the Coming Reformation

Harvard historian Richard Marius states that Luther never spoke of the negative observations relevant to his journey to Rome. Oberman pointedly rejects the notion that Rome itself or the pope led to Luther’s theological questions, arguing, in fact, that Luther was still a “fierce papist.”

But the shame and abuse of indulgences caused Luther to doubt, a doubt that would culminate in the Ninety-Five Theses and the eventual break with Rome. In his last years, the “fierce papist” came to see the pope as the Antichrist, describing the Vicar of Christ in crude, scatological language.

Erik H. Erikson, whose psychoanalytical biography of Luther addressed, among other things, Luther’s self-identity crisis, writes that “His attempt to devote himself…to some highly promoted observances in Rome seems to indicate a last endeavor on his part to settle his inner unrest with ceremonial fervor, by the accomplishment of works.”

Impressions run deep and can be lasting. When Luther first saw Rome, he fell on his knees and exclaimed, “salve sancta Roma!” Much later, however, as Richard Marius writes, “Rome was the head of all crimes and the seat of the devil.” The city of God, it seemed to Luther, was built over hell.

Impact of Rome on Luther after Returning to Erfurt

Shortly after his return, Luther abandoned the position of the Erfurt monastery which favored a less stringent application of community living for monks, and supported the more conservative Johannes Staupitz. Luther moved to the University at Wittenberg. To what extent might his observations in Rome have contributed to this decision?

After 1517, a theologically enlightened Luther rejected Church tradition, indulgences, relics, and those many trappings of the Medieval Church that he saw degraded by even the highest ranking members of the curia while visiting Rome.

It was rumored that Pope Julius II suffered from syphilis and had engaged in homosexual acts. At least one prior pope had been linked to incest. In Rome itself, priests mocked the Eucharist, mumbling in Latin, “Bread thou art and bread thou shalt remain…” For a man as sensitive as Luther, these impressions must have been shocking.

Any objective impacts Luther’s visit to Rome had remain speculative, since there are no written records linking that visit to his immediate years back in Saxony. Luther did refer to Rome in his later years, but by then he had already concluded that Rome, as symbolic of the Church, was of the devil. The Roman experience was a step, a seed planted for future fruit. Luther’s memories of that journey may have added to his eventual conclusions.

Sources:

• Erik H. Erikson, Young Man Luther: A Study In Psychoanalysis and History (W. W. Norton & Company, 1962)
• Ross King, Michelangelo and the Pope’s Ceiling (Penguin Books, 3003)
• Richard Marius, Martin Luther: The Christian Between God and Death (The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1999)
• Heiko A. Oberman, Luther: Man between God and the Devil (Yale University Press, 1989)

Copyright Michael Streich. Contact the author to obtain permission for republication.

 Revolutionary Charleston Marks the Beginning of the End for British in Southern Campaign

Michael Streich June 29, 2009

By the end of 1779, Sir Henry Clinton, British commander of North American forces during the latter part of the Revolutionary War, turned his attention south, dispatching a sizeable force to take Charleston. The South Carolina campaign, begun with much promise, rapidly deteriorated into a type of guerrilla warfare with atrocities committed by both sides. Much of this was due to Lord Cornwallis, the southern commander after Sir Clinton returned to New York.

 

Clinton Moves against Charleston, South Carolina

 

According to Sir Henry Clinton’s memoirs, the taking of Charleston had long figured in his overall strategy to win the war against the American rebels. Loyalist support was thought to be strongest in the South, notably in the Carolinas. Finally, recent British successes in Georgia seemed to confirm a southern campaign might swiftly change the course of the entire war.

 

Charleston was defended by 5,000 men, many from militia units, under the command of Major General Benjamin Lincoln. (some sources cite the number of defenders at 7,000) Clinton left New York with almost 100 ships under the command of Vice Admiral Arbuthnot and nearly 8,000 troops. His second in command was Lord Cornwallis, who had only returned from England following the death of his wife.

 

The Siege of Charleston

 

After suffering losses on the seas, the British landed south of Charleston on John’s Island. The siege would last 42 days. General Lincoln, well aware that his forces could not successfully defend the South’s largest city, made plans to evacuate the Continentals while escape was still possible.

 

However, according to General William Moultrie’s journal entry of April 26, 1780, leading Charleston citizens threatened to open the gates to the city and “cut up his [Lincoln’s] boats,” if he evacuated his troops. What some military historians call Lincoln’s decisive mistake probably resulted in the largest single military defeat of the war.

 

At the same time Lt. Colonel Banastre Tarleton’s “British Legion,” composed primarily of saber-wielding cavalry, pacified the countryside, cutting off supply routes such as at Biggin’s Bridge, north of Charleston. Admiral Arbuthnot’s warships easily sailed past Forts Johnson and Moultrie. Charleston would endure a relentless bombardment from both land and sea.

 

The fall of Charleston

 

Lincoln surrendered Charleston on May 12, 1780. Although the Continentals were taken prisoner, civilians and militia soldiers were allowed to return to their farms, some officers even allowed to keep their swords. Clinton returned to New York, leaving Lord Cornwallis and 4,000 men. Before he left Charleston, however, Sir Henry Clinton issued an order that was to prove fatal to the British cause.

 

Clinton, in essence, forced all provincial inhabitants to take an oath of loyalty to the Crown or be branded as rebels. Militiamen that had returned home viewed their repatriation as duplicity. Many neutral citizens that had not taken sides were now forced into a decision. Clinton’s order was the first step in the coming rural warfare that would culminate in some of the bloodiest atrocities of the war.

 

The Second Fatal Blunder

 

The second blunder occurred when Colonel Tarleton’s cavalry overtook the Virginia Infantry, commanded by Colonel Buford. Buford was heading north to join rebel forces in North Carolina. The encounter resulted in a bloodbath. Tarleton gave no quarter as surrendering men were cut down with saber. The wounded were bayoneted.

 

This atrocity galvanized Patriot forces in the Carolinas as men rushed to join the opposition, including a young Andrew Jackson who had helped to treat the few fortunate survivors of the massacre. Rebels attacked the homes and wives of Loyalists; Tories and British raiding parties retaliated. Many innocent civilians died. As historian Walter Edgar comments, the British stirred up a hornet’s nest. Much of the blame rests with Cornwallis, who allowed field commanders extensive freedom of movement and chose not to intervene.

 

Sources:

 

Walter Edgar, Partisans and Redcoats: The Southern Conflict That Turned the Tide of the American Revolution (HarperCollins, 2001)

Christopher Hibbert, Redcoats and Rebels: The American Revolution Through British Eyes (New York: Avon Books, 1991)

The Spirit of Seventy-Six: The Story of the American Revolution as Told by its Participants Edited by Henry S. Commager and Richard B. Morris (Castle Books, 2002)

Copyright owned by Michael Streich. Contact Michael Streich for permission to republish. First published in Suite101.

 The Battle of Saratoga: Turning Point in the Revolutionary War

Best Laid Plans Doomed to Fail

Michael Streich

July 4, 2009

The 1777 battle of Saratoga was the most important and decisive battle of the Revolutionary War until Yorktown. Frequently termed the “turning point” of the conflict, American victory at Saratoga dramatically lifted sagging American morale, gave impetus to those in England pressuring Parliament for a negotiated settlement of the war, and convinced the French to support the American cause with material and men.

 

John Burgoyne and the Plan to Capture Albany

 

General Burgoyne, senior British commander in Canada (though nominally under Sir Guy Carleton), used his considerable influence with powerful London war policy-makers to receive approval to march a formidable British army south into New York with the intent of capturing Albany and splitting the colonies.

 

Success of the plan depended upon Sir William Howe, technically Burgoyne’s senior as commander-in-chief in North America, sending an army up the Hudson River to support Burgoyne’s march south. Howe never received a direct order to that effect, however, and resented the fact that Burgoyne had been given complete independence to use the Northern Army for his own purposes.

 

At the time Burgoyne began preparing his army in June 1777, he was unaware that Howe was not planning to send any troops north. Howe was busy brilliantly defeating George Washington in a series of skirmishes that ended with British occupation of Philadelphia where only a year earlier the Declaration of Independence had been adopted.

 

Howe’s second in command, Sir Henry Clinton, remained in New York with a much smaller force and, although initially supportive of Burgoyne’s plan, had no intention of weakening his position. As Burgoyne began his march into the interior after debarking at Lake George, he had no way of knowing that his 7,000 men would be forced to fight an army four times as large without the assumed support from Howe.

 

Benedict Arnold at Bemis Heights

 

Although General Philip Schuyler was responsible for American defenses and the eventual strategy that would result in the encirclement of Burgoyne, he was replaced by Horatio Gates, referred to by historians as the most political of all American generals. Burgoyne, arrogant and uncompromising, severely overextended his supply train, making it easier for the Americans to defeat him at Saratoga. Additionally, Burgoyne’s army included hundreds of women and dependants.

 

After some minor victories along the route (including the capture of Ticonderoga), Burgoyne lost a sizeable number of troops at Bennington where they were ambushed. His march, however, was halted at Bemis Heights. American troops under Benedict Arnold inflicted heavy casualties, forcing Burgoyne to withdraw north to Saratoga where his army dug in.

 

At this point Burgoyne was still able to evacuate northward, an action counseled by some senior officers including Baron von Riedesel, commander of the two German brigades. But Burgoyne still anticipated relief from either Howe or Clinton.

 

The ensuing battle, including an attack on Burgoyne’s center by Benedict Arnold who was acting against orders, resulted in such carnage that Burgoyne was forced to seek surrender terms. His army had less than a week’s worth of food and, as one desperate German officer wrote, “Never can the Jews have longed more for the coming of the Messiah than we longed for the arrival of General Clinton.”

 

Terms and Aftermath

 

Horatio Gates accepted Burgoyne’s counter-terms to the unconditional surrender he had requested. Although Burgoyne threatened to fight to the death if his terms were not accepted, Gates would be undone by the generous terms that included marching the prisoners to Boston and allowing them safe passage home on the promise not to fight in America again. Washington, jealous of Gates’ victory, pressed home this point. An exiled Continental Congress later abrogated the terms. Saratoga was a prime example of why the British lost the war.

 

Sources:

 

William Digby, “The Saratoga Campaign: New York, July-October 1777,” The American Revolution: Writings from the War of Independence, John Rhodenhamel, Editor (New York: The Library of America, 2001)

Robert Harvey, “A Few Bloody Noses” The Realities and Mythologies of the American Revolution (Woodstock: the Overlook Press, 2002)

Christopher Hibbert, Redcoats and Rebels: The American Revolution Through British Eyes (New York: Avon Books, 1990)

Copyright owned by Michael Streich; Republishing requires permission in writing.

 Triumph of the Will

Leni Riefenstahl's Classic Film of the Nazi Rallies at Nuremberg

© Michael Streich

 May 29, 2009

Leni Riefenstahl's Nazi era films have been hailed and criticized as Nazi documentaries, propaganda, and superb film making although she defended them as works of art.

Triumph of the Will (1935) has been called the greatest propaganda film ever made although the creator, Leni Riefenstahl, vigorously denied that the film was made for propaganda purposes. Riefenstahl, often called the “mother of modern film,” frequently said in her defense after the war that she was coerced by the Nazis into making the movie. Whether her goal was pure art or propaganda or a mixture of both, Triumph of the Will took a ranting demagogue and turned him into a modern god.

The Appeal of Triumph of the Will

The so-called documentary begins with aerial pictures of Nuremberg through billowing clouds. Hitler’s plane is filmed flying out of the clouds. Over the city, the plane’s silhouette shadowed on the streets below, moves block to block to the grounds where the Nazi Party rallies took place. In the background, the viewer can hear the Horst Wessel song.

Filmed from many angles, the black and white chronicle of the 1934 party rally captures all of the ritual, pageantry, and martial qualities of the movement. Flags flutter everywhere; Hitler youth bands play popular party marches. Hitler makes emotional speeches, demonstrating his charisma with the people who stop him with wild applause, holding up their arms in the Nazi salute and shouting “Sieg Heil!”

Riefenstahl accomplished an effect that simply could not be the same without the use of black and white. Hundreds of jubilant facial shots capture the total participation of the crowd. German historian Klaus Fischer points out that in films like Triumph of the Will, the people themselves became “coactors.”

Hitler the Artist

Adolf Hitler loved the film. Triumph of the Will represented a massive spectacle that appealed to a man whose initial background was as an artist. It should also be remembered that Hitler’s favorite composer was Richard Wagner, the 19th Century romanticist whose resume included being a revolutionary and a rabid anti-Semite.

The backdrops and staging of the party rallies throughout the 1930s were much like the elaborate and heroic Wagnerian operas that were performed, most ideally, at Bayreuth, a theater constructed around the needs of Wagner’s grandiose operas, similar to the immense structures at the Nazi Party Rally Grounds.

Leni Riefenstahl after the War

In a May 11, 1965 television interview, Riefenstahl claimed that in 1934/1935, she did not consider Triumph of the Will to be propaganda but conceded that, in hindsight, future generations might see it as such. Throughout the interview, she portrayed herself as a victim, noting her troubles with Dr. Joseph Goebbels, the Nazi Propaganda Minister.

Of the wars years, she stated, “I didn’t know it was so dangerous.” During a National Public Ratio obituary upon her death in September 2003, commentator Bob Edwards played an excerpt from an earlier interview in which Riefenstahl stated firmly, “It is not a propaganda film” (NPR, Morning Edition, September 9, 2003).

Riefenstahl made several post-war “come backs.” She mastered photography, demonstrating her talents in Africa. She learned under-water photography and produced spectacular pictures. Leni Riefenstahl had a singular gift for capturing uniquely spatial events and moments.

Riefenstahl’s other “great” movie demonstrates this quality as well. Olympia or Gods of the Stadium (1938) captured the 1936 Berlin Olympic Games in a documentary that some film critics hail as one of the best movies ever made.

Never a member of the Nazi Party, Riefenstahl, during her interviews, comes across like many Germans of the time who became caught up in a movement without stopping to question the motives or means. And like other Germans coming out that period, Riefenstahl saw herself as a victim. She died in 2003 at the age of 101.

Sources:

• Documentation Centre Nazi Party Rally Grounds, VHS Tape, Nuremberg Museums, 2000
• Klaus P. Fischer, Nazi Germany: a New History (New York: Continuum, 1995)
• Anna Maria Sigmund, Women of the Third Reich (NDE Publishing, 2000)
• National Public Radio (several interviews on-line)

The copyright of the article Triumph of the Will in German History is owned by Michael Streich. Permission to republish Triumph of the Will in print or online must be granted by the author in writing.

Hitler in Nuremberg 1935

 General Braddock's Disastrous March Encourages Native American Resistance and French Boldness

Braddock's Arrogance and Ignorance of Local Culture and Conditions Guarantee Failure

Michael Streich

 The start of the French and Indian War hardly achieved the grand objectives envisioned by England in an attempt to dislodge the French from the colonial frontier. Instead, the war began with the spectacular defeat of General Edward Braddock’s army composed of two regiments, assorted militia, and a handful of Indian scouts within a mile of their destination, Fort Duquesne in Pennsylvania. Braddock’s is often maligned for his role in the disaster, yet other factors may have contributed to the defeat in a more direct manner.

 

Braddock Arrives in Maryland

 

Braddock was appointed by the Duke of Cumberland, second son of the king. Known as the “Butcher of Culloden,” Cumberland and his protégés relied on the efficiency of continental military strategy, never considering the geographical differences of colonial America or the mindset of the colonial peoples.

 

Braddock, according to Simon Schama, was a “…unsentimental administrator and a stickler for discipline.” Like many commanders sent to America, Braddock viewed colonial militias and officers with contempt. Expecting to find supplies for his campaign, neither Virginia nor Pennsylvania provided food or transportation until Benjamin Franklin, almost at the last minute, arrived with 150 wagons obtained from Pennsylvania farmers as well as large amounts of food.

 

Virginia had no surplus food. Virginia agriculture was dominated by tobacco. In Pennsylvania, the colonial Quaker proprietors, clinging to the pacifism, refused to grant funds for a military operation, relenting in the end to support the endeavor with food supplies.

 

Ironically, it was the wagons and 500 pack horses that slowed his column as the army hacked a trail through the wilderness to Fort Duquesne. Braddock’s colonial aide-de-camp was Virginian George Washington, whose past experience fighting the French and their Indian allies would be valuable. Washington had written to Braddock, requesting consideration as a member of the general’s staff.

 

Also assisting Braddock was the experienced and highly trust frontiersman George Croghan who brought with him several Indian guides to scout the path. According to Dale Van Every, Braddock respected the Indians, giving gifts to friendly Indians he encountered on his trek, yet smarting that the Catawba and Cherokee had not come to assist him, as had been promised.

 

Braddock within Sight of Fort Duquesne

 

Having divided his force, Braddock led 1700 of his best men toward the French outpost. Vastly outnumbered, the French commander, Pierre Contrecoeur, contemplated surrendering his position. Excessive drought had lowered river levels, making resupply virtually impossible.

 

Contrecoeur’s second in command, Captain Daniel Hyacinth Beaujeu, however, convinced the commander to allow him to attempt a daring ambush as Braddock’s troops were crossing the Monongahela. Beaujeu caught Braddock after the river had been forded. Although killed in the ambush, Beaujeu’s Indians began to slaughter the English, firing into the disciplined ranks from the safety of the dense forest. Braddock lost two thirds of his command and would die during the retreat from a bullet wound. The French lost 23 men.

 

Washington would write in a letter, “we have been most scandalously beaten by a trifling body of men.” As the war continued, new leadership in England, learning some lessons from the initial disasters, appointed commanders willing to adapt to wilderness fighting and willing to share fully with colonial officers and militias.

 

Braddock Assessed

 

Edward Braddock was a product of European military experience. The colonial war was an entirely new experience. His antipathy for “backwater” provincials inclined him to disregard advice. Practically, he was hindered in movement by his supply train and the necessity of creating a path to the destination. Additionally, the strategic aims had been laid out by the Duke of Cumberland; Braddock was obliged to follow orders even if a more prudent policy appeared to promise more successful results.

 

Sources:

 

Fred Anderson, Crucible of War: The Seven Years’ War and the Fate of Empire in British North America, 1754-1766 (Vintage, 2001)

Walter R. Borneman, French and Indian War: Fate of North America (Harper, 2007)

Dale Van Every, Forth to the Wilderness: the First American Frontier 1754-1774 (Mentor Book, 1961)

Simon Schama, A History of Britain, Volume II, The Wars of the British 1603-1776 (Hyperion, 2001)

Copyright Michael Streich; reprints require written permission.

Article first published in Suite101

 Why the US Pioneered Modern Constitutionalism

A Tradition of Limited Representation Provided Experience

© Michael Streich

Mar 3, 2009

Both the Articles of Confederation and the Constitution came out of an English tradition of limited representative government mirrored in colonial governments.

During the American Revolutionary War, delegates of the Continental Congress created a new government for the soon-to-be independent United States that was called the Articles of Confederation. At the end of the war in 1783, the Articles formed the basis of the national government even as individual states wrote constitutions. Because the Articles proved inadequate, by 1787 it became apparent that a new Constitution needed to be written. That effort resulted in a central government that has governed the nation ever since constitutional ratification. The question often raised, however, is why this happened in America.

The Enlightenment and a Constitutional Tradition

From the very beginning of seventeenth century colonial efforts, colonial charters detailed not only the formation of colonial communities but political relationships. In rudimentary form, the Mayflower Compact established a social order agreed to by the consensus of Separatists. Other charters were more elaborate and went through several incarnations, such as that of Pennsylvania.

Puritan thinkers advanced the notion of a covenant or contract form of government that was later employed by John Locke at the time of the Glorious Revolution. William and Mary accepted these principles, embodied in part in the English Bill of Rights, and constitutionalism replaced divine right theory that had been held so dearly by earlier Stuart kings.

Ben Franklin, perhaps the greatest example of colonial Enlightenment thinkers, advanced an early blue print of colonial union with his Albany Plan at the start of the French and Indian War, but it was rejected both by colonial leaders and Britain. Most colonies, mirroring the English Parliamentary system, had Assemblies comprised of upper and lower houses. In short, the notions of representative government were planted long before the Articles of Confederation and the Constitution.

The Lessons of History and Enlightenment Writing

Colin Goodykoontz writes that the crafting of the US Constitution called attention to “the contributions of the Americans to the development of the convention method of forming constitutions and giving reality to the compact theory.” Goodykoontz demonstrates that the delegates sought inspiration from the experience of history rather than reason, recalling Athenian democracy and the Roman Republic. Yet the greatest example for the framers was the unwritten English Constitution.

While providing a vehicle for self-government, however, the framers also understood the dangers posed by “the violence of popular bodies,” according to Gouverneur Morris of Pennsylvania. This view, held by almost all of the framers, helps to explain the later fears associated with the French Revolution and the mob rule during the French “reign of terror.” Yet it was one French Enlightenment thinker, the Baron Montesquieu, whose book The Spirit of the Laws, inspired the separation of powers.

Goodykoontz quotes Pierce Butler at the Constitutional Convention: “We had before us all the Ancient and modern constitutions on record, but none of them was more influential on Our Judgments than the British in Its Original purity.” American Constitutionalism developed out of a constitutional and covenant tradition, something other European societies lacked. Coupled with a strong agricultural base and the growth of manufacturing, the American democracy would evolve into what Gordon Wood called the “most egalitarian society” the world had ever seen.

Sources:

Scott Douglas Gerber, To Secure These Rights: The Declaration of Independence and Constitutional Interpretation (New York University Press, 1995).

Colin B. Goodykoontz, “The Founding Fathers and Clio,” The Vital Past: Writings on the Uses of History, Stephen Vaughn, Ed. (Athens, GA: University of Georgia Press, 1985).

Gordon S. Wood, The Radicalism of the American Revolution: How a Revolution Transformed a Monarchical Society Into a Democratic One Unlike Any That Had Ever Existed (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1992).

The copyright of the article Why the US Pioneered Modern Constitutionalism in Colonial America is owned by Michael Streich. Permission to republish Why the US Pioneered Modern Constitutionalism in print or online must be granted by the author in writing.

Colonial Williamsburg