Book review: “Madison and Jefferson”

Perhaps it only grew on Madison in later years, but there was definitely a flash, a flicker, an irreverence that radiated from him, which history ignores. For whatever reason, modern scholars have made Madison not only full of thought, which he was, but a stone-faced politician, which he was not; and they have, with comparable ease, rendered Jefferson as the Federalists so often branded him, a confused idealist. — Andrew Burstein and Nancy Isenberg, “Madison and Jefferson

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The above passage seems to summarize the general error of history that Andrew Burstein and Nancy Isenberg address in their colossal, that is to say, towering work on a friendship between James Madison and Thomas Jefferson that endured for half a century.

"Madison and Jefferson"

Madison, as history has recorded, has been judged as the mostly quiet and stoic political thinker and constitutionalist, while Jefferson is widely thought of as the passionate, if not hyperbolic, consummate republican, always heralding the interests of the Virginian farmer against a potentially overbearing federal government that is always in danger of overextending itself.

Burstein and Isenberg break down these oversimplifications at every step of the way in this 644-page tome, masterful as it may be in its research, could have, I think, accomplished the same goal and expounded on its main thesis in half the time. The last 200 pages through the Monroe and John Quincy Adams administrations get distractedly cumbersome as we plod slowly through a seemingly endless paper trail of letters, mostly intended for private consumption between Madison and Jefferson and other politicians, toward the eventual demise of Jefferson on July 4, 1826 on the 50th anniversary of the nation’s independence. Consequently, the second president, John Adams, gave up the ghost on the same day. If I were a believer in America’s consecration as a “Christian nation” or somehow ordained by the god of Abraham and Isaac, this might give me pause. Also too would this fact: Monroe, the nation’s fifth president, died on July 4, 1831, five years to the day after Jefferson and Adams’ passing.

Nonetheless, the length of the “Madison and Jefferson” does not detract from the fact that it is an important contribution to the legacies of the two presidents. While I find it difficult to believe that previous biographers of the third and fourth presidents have all failed in uncovering and correcting misconceptions about the true personalities and political proclivities of the two men, Burstein and Isenberg do meet the imperishable goal of correcting the lay interpretation of Madison and Jefferson, as they are commonly studied in high school and college. Of course, that being said, I doubt that many lay readers — those who might, for instance, chance to pick up “1776” by David McCullough because they heard it was a good read —  would be willing to set forth the time and mental energy necessary to consume such a seminal work, perhaps bedeviling the whole point in the first place. I hope that is not the case, obviously, but in this age of trash fiction and revisionist history, I don’t hold out too much hope for the general public to become suddenly interested in new studies these two American founders. Even people who describe themselves as students of history may get a little frustrated with the length and breadth of this book, for along with the 600-plus pages are more than 100 pages of accompanying notes.

That being said, those who endure to the end of the book will be rewarded with the conclusions contained therein and the way the authors of “Madison and Jefferson” ultimately encapsulate the legacies of the two men. After getting some of the criticism out of the way, let’s look at what makes this work shine.

We begin with the title. In their preface, Burstein and Isenberg said that they did not intend to be “cute or ironic” in reversing the order of the names from a previous biography of the two men, “Jefferson and Madison: The Great Collaboration” (1950). While they describe the previous work as “a serviceable piece of scholarship,” they said the author gave Jefferson precedence in the title

for the same reason that a beautiful monument was erected to his memory in the Tidal Basin in Washington, D.C., in 1943. Madison, the dry, distant “Father of the Constitution,” generated little posthumous sentiment.

In reversing the order, the intention was

not to degrade Jefferson as a force of politics — not one iota — but rather to suggest that it is time to reevaluate their relationship and their distinct individual contributions. Popular historians have done precious little with Madison. And while political scientists have boiled him down to his noteworthy contributions to “The Federalist Papers,” the historians who place him within the larger context of party formation have presented Madison as a man unaffected by an emotional life, a man eclipsed by the more magnetic, more affecting Jefferson.

Again, I’m skeptical that all biographers of Madison have ignored the more nuanced parts of his character and personality, and this passage seems to scream for some supporting examples other than a work from 1950, but no notes are given in this section of the preface. I have quoted one passage about Madison’s irreverence and the flashes of flair that, perhaps, could be captured in some of Madison’s more uninhibited moments, but what are some of Burstein and Isenberg’s other claims about Madison and Jefferson?

One can hardly speak of the founder of the University of Virginia and its caretaker after Jefferson’s death without mentioning the subject of religious freedom and the myth that two of the most important founders in American history had any kind of healthy affinity for religion. Rather, they protected religious freedom at every turn. Indeed, Madison, after his friend died, worked to ensure that the University of Virginia remained a secular institution and was not taken over by the pious, and we can also see this in Madison’s ideas on what types of books to include in the future Library of Congress. According to Burstein and Isenberg:

For this purpose, he (Madison) tapped a list of 2,640 books cataloged by Jefferson, which Madison amended and expanded to include numerous titles by radical religious skeptics. Unfortunately, the idea of a Library of Congress was ahead of its time; it would not be established until the last year of John Adam’s presidency.

Further, the authors in the final chapter made it clear that Madison and Jefferson adhered to Enlightenment principles:

… Madison and Jefferson subscribed to the Enlightenment in ethereal form: its adoration of science and philosophy and its treatment of religious dogma as hopeless fallacy; its focus on grand nature and human nature; its teaching that we should privilege rational understanding over passionate conviction.

What about politics? Here, things get murkier. While these two slaveholders obviously fought tirelessly for personal liberty, for American Democracy against the British monarchy and western expansion, they held a rather dim view of the 1 to 2 million slaves and free blacks that were in the nation at the time, and neither Madison or Jefferson ever drew back their support for the untenable solution of black colonization:

No English monarchy or aristocratic body had ever welcomed progress. On the strength of this simple formulation, Madison and Jefferson advocated a republican government that kept power out of the hands of the undeserving and transferred it to new guardians of the public trust. Republican government extended happiness by minimizing taxes and maximizing individual freedom. This is their legacy. But in doing almost nothing to advance the cause of liberty for those enslaved, Madison and Jefferson also knowingly acquiesced to an American tyranny.

In essence, then, the “pursuit of happiness” applied to white happiness. The two presidents were surely smart enough to realize the inconsistently of their own positions regarding black people, but they must be viewed as a product of their times and not ours, and as the authors acknowledge, we would be in error if we attempt to “associate” them with today’s progressive movement, just as we can’t view Hamilton’s notion of a national bank as paving an early path to the modern American economy.

As for their political ideologies, Madison stayed more true to his principles throughout his political career than did Jefferson. The latter, before becoming president touted republicanism and states rights, while maintaining a skepticism for federal power, but as president, he oversaw a huge expansion of federal power, land grabs and initiated the First Barbary War without congressional consent. Moreover, he worked behind the scenes to attempt to destroy the credibility of Aaron Burr, Hamilton (Hamilton unrelentingly returned the favor to both Burr and Jefferson) and others, and as president, Jefferson had Burr arrested on the false charge of treason for filibustering schemes in Mexico, something that the federal government would in essence legalize in order to wrest land away from Spain and the Native Americans. Hamilton and Jefferson had at least one thing in common: they both felt threatened by the talented Burr:

Thomas Jefferson entertained grand expansionist plans, and James Madison was in favor of them all. Neither Jefferson nor Madison was opposed to what Burr was preparing for south of the border. What bothered them, and the president especially, was that Burr, only recently out of government, was already a step ahead. Jefferson, who never doubted Burr’s capabilities, feared that his rejected running mate was in a strong position to reap political gains from his independent efforts.

Jefferson also had a nasty relationship with Chief Justice John Marshall. Burstein and Isenberg again highlighted moments in which Jefferson went too far in his wrangling with political competitors:

The length to which he took his fears resulted in his applying a political litmus test of a most rigid kind. Purging the Supreme Court of Federalists is extreme (and unrepublican) behavior.

The most salient point to take away from “Madison and Jefferson” is that the two presidents are not to be viewed through a hyperbolic lens. They were men with prejudices, flaws and unique strengths like everyone else, some of which history has remembered, some of which we are, perhaps, now only becoming more aware. The failure of history has been to over-highlight some parts of their character while ignoring others. Or, in the authors’ words:

Biography is a tricky thing. Privileging one source over another inevitably alters conclusions. The particular problem among biographers of Madison and Jefferson are those caused by too much license being taken with too little information. As Benjamin Rush said so incisively in 1808, believing in the “great man” theory of history makes as much sense as believing in “witches and conjurers.” The celebratory biographer exists because nostalgia adheres to every generation.

Despite the specific flaws and strengths highlighted in this book, Madison and Jefferson were long-time politicians, yet through all the political rancor, remained long-time friends, and even in their occasional disagreements on policy, they wrote affectionately to each other in their final days. No matter the shrewd and sometimes inconsistent politics in which Jefferson might have engaged during his career, the consistency was an enduring admiration for his friend. To end on a fitting note, Jefferson, approaching his final days, had this to say of Madison in his autobiography:

… he sustained the new constitution in all its parts, bearing off the palm against the logic of George Mason, and the fervid declamation of Mr. Henry. With these consummate powers were united a pure and spotless virtue which no calumny has ever attempted to sully. Of the powers and polish of his pen, and of the wisdom of his administration in the highest office of the nation, I need say nothing. They have spoken, and will forever speak for themselves.

[Rating: 3.3]

Book review: ‘Fallen Founder: The Life of Aaron Burr’

Perhaps no figure in American Revolutionary history has been the victim of vilification more than former U.S. vice president and New York senator, Aaron Burr.

And for some, with good reason. He was, after all, the man who shot and killed Alexander Hamilton, the heralded Federalist who was one of the most outspoken backers of the U.S. Constitution, supported the creation of a national bank and served as secretary of the treasury under George Washington. In his time, no one eclipsed Hamilton in economic and political influence in colonial and post-colonial America. And this brilliant thinker and fellow founder fell to Burr’s bullet in the famous duel in Weehawken, New Jersey.

Even to casual readers of American history, to mention the name of Aaron Burr is to conjure words such as “traitor” and “secessionist.” But is this an adequate picture of the man, or has history done Burr’s legacy a disservice?

Nancy Isenberg in “Fallen Founder: The Life of Aaron Burr,” brings this enlightened and progressive man’s life back into view, without — this time — the unsubstantiated claims that have marred nearly every account of Burr up until now. Even modern biographies such as 2005’s “Alexander Hamilton” by Ron Chernow have largely perpetuated the worst view of Burr, that he held no set of political ideas worth pursuing, that he was an opportunist of the highest degree and that he was sexually frivolous.

While the latter charge is most certainly true, the other two are rather spurious. Tracing the steps of Hamilton’s widow from her life some 45 years after Hamilton’s death, Chernow claims in his prologue that Burr had:

… fired a moral shot at her husband, Alexander Hamilton, in a misbegotten effort to remove the man Burr regarded as the main impediment to the advancement of his career.

This is a dubious claim at best. Sure, Burr possessed his own political ambition, and it’s true that Hamilton and Burr were on different political spectra, but the simple reason behind the duel was Hamilton’s refusal to make an apology stemming from a statement, recorded by Charles Cooper, that Hamilton:

…has come out decidedly against Burr; indeed when he was here he spoke of him as a dangerous man, and who ought not to be trusted.

This was not an isolated statement from Hamilton against Burr’s character, but only one of any many denigrations Hamilton had made about Burr in the lead-up to the duel. This one, for Burr however, necessitated that the two settle their differences under the code duello. Had Hamilton apologized or recanted the statement, admitting that he had gone too far in his criticism of Burr, the duel probably never would have happened. Later in life, Burr admitted that

Had I read Sterne more and Voltaire less, I should have known the world was wide enough for Hamilton and me.

In any case, Burr penned an apology dated June 25, 1804 in which he requested Hamilton sign. Hamilton would not, and in a statement written between June 27-July 4, a day before the duel in New Jersey, said:

… it is possible that I may have injured Col Burr, however convinced myself that my opinions and declarations have been well founded, as from my general principles and temper in relation to similar affairs – I have resolved, if our interview is conducted in the usual manner,and it pleases God to give me the opportunity, to reserve and throw away my first fire, and I have thought even of reserving my second fire – and thus giving a double opportunity to Col Burr to pause and reflect.

It is not however my intention to enter into any explanations on the ground. Apology, from principle I hope, rather than Pride, is out of the question.

None of this admits that Burr entered upon the duel to protect his own political career. He was doing just fine for himself at that time in his career. He was vice president of the nation and a gifted lawyer, after all. Rather, it was the other way around. Certainly, Hamilton would have liked to have avoided a duel if he could have, but he was outspoken to a fault, as Chernow admits, and would not retract his comments about Burr. More likely is the case that — and Isenberg makes this point concretely — Hamilton, Jefferson and other political adversaries felt threatened by Burr. The only difference is that whereas Chernow links Burr’s challenge of a duel to his ambition, Isenberg does not, and in my opinion, it is the latter that stands on the right side of history in this particular case. Dueling was a common way to settle scores in those days (It was illegal in New York, and that is why the two traveled to New Jersey), and Burr, amid waves upon waves of Hamilton’s slash and burn hack campaign against him, he had had enough. Political ambition had little, if anything, to do with it.

Chernow makes another point about Burr that seems historically dishonest. He attempts to make the case that Burr did not leave behind any substantial documents that relate his political ideas, and Chernow questions why some consider Burr a founder in the first place. He says that while Washington, Hamilton, Jefferson, Adams and other left behind thick and voluminous volumes, “packed with profound ruminations,” only two volumes exist of Burr’s writings. This is certainly true, but unlike some of the other founders, Burr had few living relatives in which to preserve his writings. His intelligent wife, Theodosia, died young; so did his daughter of the same name. Both were women of the enlightenment and carried their studies as far as their sex would take them at the time. Burr was more progressive than any of the founders, and he instilled, with the help of Theodosia the elder, the forward-thinking and high-minded ideals of [[Mary Wolstencraft]] and [[Jean-Jacques Rousseau]] into the younger Theodosia’s studies. The younger Theodosia, as it happens, disappeared after setting sail on the Patriot ship from Georgetown, S.C. The most common theory is that the schooner was captured by pirates, but in effect, no one knows what happened to Theodosia Burr Alston. The important point is that Burr outlived all of his immediate relatives and few, if any, were left to collect and carry on his legacy. All we are left with, as for Burr’s first-hand writings, are, unfortunately, the dregs, with a few exceptions, as Isenberg highlights.

Isenberg also makes a full account of Burr’s treason trial and his supposed conspiracy to create a new republic, separate from the United States, along with a portion of what was then called the “Southwest.” In reality, however, Burr’s schemes did not include any sort of separatist movement against the U.S., rather, he made plans to expand U.S. territory into Spanish Florida and Mexico (i.e. Manifest Destiny). Probably because he killed Hamilton and because of the political enemies he had made in Washington and elsewhere, many were suspicious of him, and it was actually Jefferson who had Burr arrested and indicted on a charge of treason. Jefferson was so cocksure of Burr’s guilt, and without any apparent reason, other than what he read in the obviously biased newspapers of the day. For all of Jefferson’s acumen in nearly every other subject that matters, I find it hard to rectify his headstrong determination to destroy Burr despite lack of any concrete evidence. Needless to say, no evidence was forthcoming in the actual treason trial because there was no evidence, and Burr was spared his life. But certainly not his political legacy.

Following the trial and still dogged by his detractors, he fled to Europe, suffered some unsuccessful ventures there and eventually returned to the U.S. in 1812 under the name, “Edwards,” which was probably a nod to his grandfather, Jonathan Edwards, and his uncle, Timothy Edwards, the latter of whom helped raise him as a boy.

With Isenberg’s book, readers will get a fuller and more balanced account of Burr’s life than, to my knowledge, has ever been written. Unlike Chernow and many others who have written about Burr, she does not push aside or ignore or fail to investigate the questionable sides of Burr’s character in order to inflate the good. In “Fallen Founder,” readers will be refreshed to read an unfiltered account of the former vice president, with his sexual exploits, filibustering schemes and progressive political ideas about women’s rights and other topics of import intact. One warning here: she is not kind to Hamilton at all. Rightly so? I’m not sure. Of course, we can reward Hamilton with the titles of being a brilliant political thinker and founder. But for whatever reason, he was obsessed with destroying Burr, and seemed to have personal, and more than just political reasons, as his motivation.

In the end and ironically, Burr turned the trump card, not only “winning” the duel against his most fire-penned adversary, but outliving nearly all of his former detractors at the ripe age of 81.
[Rating: 4.0]