Author: Dr. Shrout (Page 14 of 18)

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By Sherwood

Having commanded the Continental Army during the American Revolutionary War, served as the first President of the United States and presided over the Constitutional Convention, George Washington earned his fame. However, painter Gilbert Stuart was largely responsible for the stoic qualities popularly associated with Washington today. Stuart produced three main variations of Washington during his brief stay in Philadelphia. Named for the parties who purchased them, the Vaughan (1795), Athenaeum (1796) and Lansdowne (1797) portraits first imparted the solemnity and modesty for which Washington eventually became renowned. Stuart’s portraits of Washington were once wildly popular and remain relevant today; even the unfinished Athenaeum has been quietly but extensively proliferated as the centerpiece of the United States’ one-dollar bill. These paintings, especially the Lansdowne, represent the views of both Stuart and Washington on how arguably the most significant and diverse figure in American history ought to be presented. Additionally, they demonstrate how early Americans appropriated high culture to serve the principles of their new nation.

Gilbert Stuart himself was hardly a patriot. Born in Rhode Island in 1755, he set sail for England on the eve of the American Revolutionary War and spent almost two decades abroad before returning.[1] Stuart’s depictions of Washington were accordingly dispassionate. The Vaughan depicts Washington from the torso up, facing slightly towards his right. Its simple, maroon background lightens near the edges of the subject but is otherwise dark, as if illuminated solely by his grandeur. Washington foregoes the familiar adornment of a military uniform for a plain white shirt under a black coat. Stuart positions the subject’s head in the upper third of the painting to preserve the height discrepancy that occurred between Washington, who was abnormally tall, and most other men. His disapproving countenance, the expression of a common man compelled into civil servitude by dire circumstances, captures the entirety of the viewer’s attention. Or, perhaps it was only discomfort— Washington apparently hated the experience of “sitting” for a portraitist.[2] Though incomplete, the Athenaeum exhibits many of the same qualities as the Vaughan. The background and clothing are again unremarkable and subject remains disinterested. Both portraits illustrate the austerity with which we associate Washington today.

An eight-foot-tall canvas, the Lansdowne better captures Washington’s imposing stature. The subject strikes a pose that simultaneously acknowledges both his civilian and military leadership roles, with one palm extended outwards, opened invitingly, and the other grasping a sword by his side. Stuart also replicated Washington’s signature downturn expression. A more substantial setting afforded Stuart the opportunity to imbue the scene with symbolism. The rainbow in the background bestows divine approval upon the United States, but unlike a European monarch, Washington does not bask in the blessing. Rather, he offers the viewer a stake in the new nation. In the foreground, a golden desk stands with two eagles carved into its exposed leg. The eagle had symbolized the Roman republic long before becoming the national bird of the United States. Similarly, the Grecian columns represent Athenian democracy. Both of these civilizations inspired the founding fathers to emulate classical ideals and customs. Two books stacked beneath the golden desk have legible titles: “American Revolution” and “Constitution and Laws of the United States.” Gilbert indulges in a bit of revisionist history here by omitting hardships endured and mistakes made while under the Articles of Confederation. These laws encumbered the United States for twelve years before being replaced by the Constitution. The federal government’s inabilities to tax and regulate commerce called into question the durability of the new nation. Gilbert ignores the Articles entirely and emphasizes Washington’s accomplishments as a general and legislator instead, thereby misrepresenting him.

Stuart knew that portraits of Washington would attract considerable attention because of the president’s popularity. Having incurred some debt while overseas, the painter’s primary intention was to generate a profit.[3] However, that did not deter Stuart from representing Washington deliberately; the Vaughan, Athenaeum and Lansdowne depict Washington with solemnity and modesty. They diverged dramatically in terms of both style and substance from the more ostentatious, luxurious and overtly celebratory way in which European leaders— especially monarchs— were depicted. Though certainly more elaborate than either the Vaughan or Athenaeum, the Lansdowne was still remarkably humble relative to contemporaneous portraiture. All three paintings played an important role in the process of national mythmaking not only by immortalizing the nation’s first president, but also by culturally legitimizing the ideals of republicanism that he had fought for.

[1] Howard, Hugh. The Painter’s Chair: George Washington and the Making of American Art. London, UK: Bloomsbury Press, 2009. 164.

[2] Howard, Hugh. The Painter’s Chair: George Washington and the Making of American Art. London, UK: Bloomsbury Press, 2009. 183.

[3] Howard, Hugh. The Painter’s Chair: George Washington and the Making of American Art. London, UK: Bloomsbury Press, 2009. 157.

Bibliography

Gilbert Stuart, George Washington (Lansdowne Portrait), 1797. Oil on canvas, 243.8×60.5cm. The White House.

Gilbert Stuart, George Washington (Vaughan Portrait), 1795. Oil on canvas, 73×60.5cm. The National Gallery of Art.

Gilbert Stuart, George Washington (Athenaeum Portrait), 1796. Oil on canvas, 76.8×64.1cm. The Smithsonian Institution.

Howard, Hugh. The Painter’s Chair: George Washington and the Making of American Art. London, UK: Bloomsbury Press, 2009.

      

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By Cordelia

Communication in the colonial era of what would become the United States of America primarily consisted of written documents and oral exchanges. Mapping these communications requires an analysis of both types, however the face-to-face exchanges conducted by individuals cannot necessarily be mapped with one hundred percent accuracy. However, metadata use, as showcased by Kieran Healy in his article entitled, “Using Metadata to Find Paul Revere,” can predict the interactions of historical figures to a certain degree by outlining the recorded social commitments of their lives. Yet, analysis of printed materials such as commonplace books and maps could predict these communications to a greater degree, generally. However, all authors on the topic, Bruckner, Wulf, and Healy, explore the question relating to the extent to which the information collected from these communication documents is accurate and conclude that the communication methods of the time leading to the revolution were unifying in a way that mirrored the colonies’ impending unification against the British.

The geographical revolution of the Americas had to happen early in the process of colonization, as the new residents relied upon maps for their own survival. Yet, as Martin Bruckner points out in his work entitled, “The Geographic Revolution in Early America: Maps, Literacy, and National Identity,” “the early American land survey is part of a much-overlooked literary movement.” Maps did not simply communicate land distinctions but served as further communication for many reasons. The land survey provided information to the mother country of England to communicate their political stance in the new world as defined by distinctive land boundaries. This was, after all, the overarching purpose of government funding for the mapping of land as the monarchy could only enforce power over a colony if there was official documentation of the extent to which their rule was valid. However, as Bruckner argues, mapping the land resulted in much more than a reiteration of political prowess. Plotting land required a numeracy of citizens that might otherwise have not been quite as prevalent. The colonists had to become geographically literate and this united them as they learned about their new surroundings. It was a unification that was necessary for continued survival in a foreign land. Therefore, the simple communication tool of a map effectively created a standard by which all colonists would align their lives. In further context, this sort of colonial standard made by the colonists for the colonists is the exact ideal promoted by the American Revolution less than a century later – something not addressed by Bruckner’s article.[1]

Karin Wulf further explores the principle of unification through communication in her discussion of commonplace books and specifically that of Milcah Martha Moore. Commonplace books served as informal scrapbooks that women would use to document pieces of communication in their lives, including literature, quotes, and news pieces, and then proceed to share with others, forming a network of sorts. From a historical standpoint, these are extremely valuable pieces to deconstruct as they clearly form a trail of communication from person to person and can track the priorities of the time period. More importantly, however, Wulf discusses how commonplace books led to friendships and connections between women in a way that mirrored those of the men in their lives who were busy making political decisions in regards to the impending revolution. Women were not expected nor encouraged to participate in intellectual pursuits of any sort but commonplace books allowed for them to still have an understanding of the political and social events that were transpiring in front of them. Just as the men began to organize in preparation to establish change, so did the women, just in a quieter, more discrete way through commonplace books. Wulf mentions this parallelism but fails to establish a broader image of the meaning of the books. For instance, in order to understand the political drama that was transpiring, men were almost certainly required to be literate. Though there were other ways to hear about events without the ability to read, the participatory aspect of the revolution with the societies that were formed for discussion purposes required certain skills. Women were not allowed in these societies but the commonplace books proved they had the skills required to be. As Milcah Moore shared the contents of her commonplace book, so were pamphlets and newspaper clippings and quotations that all told of the impending revolution, and therefore united women in a way that the societies of the time would not allow them to be. This communication, like the maps on which Bruckner focuses, united colonists through a common need for information.[2]

Comparable to the research done on commonplace books, Kieran Healy’s discussion of the use of metadata tracks the main players of the revolution through information on the organizations to which they belonged. What goes unmentioned, however, is the blatant fact that a name listed on a membership list for a society of sorts does not guarantee the person’s active participation or contribution to said society, nor could it successfully predict the conversations that were held. Though there are other methods of verifying such relationships such as letters, testimonies, or other forms of documentation, Healy does not mention these and relies strictly upon the metadata approach. He proceeds to prove that Paul Revere lay at the center of the revolution due to the connections he had and those he helped to facilitate. Though he does not mention it explicitly, Healy’s work visualizes the unification of the colonies through the smaller-scale interactions between men. This is something that is difficult to capture with Bruckner’s article, but is present nonetheless. It also exists within Wulf’s piece but, once again, goes unmentioned. This reveals much on the state of the field of communication research in the colonial era.[3]

Overall, all three authors understand that their respective communication methods unified the colonists, but they fail to see the parallelism with the impending revolution and the importance that this small-scale unification dictates. Metadata analysis, commonplace books, and plotting the surrounding land are all symbolic of the overall ideal that the revolution lies within the people, themselves, in their day-to-day lives. Paul Revere and Milcah Martha Moore never fought on the front-lines and would not be normally considered to be key aspects to the revolution, but their communications within their respective communities allowed them to each play a role, nonetheless, and an important one, as pointed out by Healy. Even maps, as Brucker states, played a substantial literary role during the age of colonization and united colonists in a way that is paralleled and potentially solely rivaled by the unification of the colonies for their fight against Great Britain.

[1] See Bruckner, 16-50

[2] See Wulf, 1-55

[3] See Healy

Bibliography

Bruckner, Martin. “The Surveyed Self.” Chap. 1 in The Geographic Revolution in Early America: Maps, Literacy, and National Identity. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2006.

Healy, Kieran. “Using Metadata to Find Paul Revere.” Kieran Healy. June 9, 2013. Accessed February 17, 2015. http://kieranhealy.org/blog/archives/2013/06/09/using-metadata-to-find-paul-revere/.

Wulf, Karin. “Introduction.” In Milcah Martha Moore’s Book: Documenting Culture and Connection in the Revolutionary Era. University Park, Pa.: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1997.

      

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By admin

Carolyn Raihala

HIS 245

Primary Source Analysis

Abigail Adams: Lobbyist and Political Advisor

Abigail and John Adams carried out an extensive written correspondence from their pre-marriage days of courtship in 1762 up through John’s presidency from 1796 to 1801. In their letters, they write not only of their mutual affection and the day-to-day undertakings of their lives, but of politics and philosophy, exchanging ideas as intellectual equals. In this letter, known as the “remember the ladies letter” for her farsighted lobbying on behalf of women, Abigail Adams leaves the contemporary gender role for women far behind as she critiques her husband’s co-revolutionaries and demands that John include protections for women in the Constitution.

When I first read this letter, I was curious to know about Dunmore and the situation to which Abigail refers when she criticizes the colony for having been “shamefully duped by a Dunmore.” The man in question refers to John Murray, the Fourth Earl of Dunmore and the Royal Governor of Virginia. He is infamous (if seen from Adams’s perspective) for issuing a proclamation on November 14, 1775 in which he offered freedom to slaves who would leave their patriot masters and join the loyalist forces.

Consequently, colonists previously focused on waging war against the British put their energies into protecting their families and property against this growing threat. And though relatively few slaves actually joined the British army as a result of this proclamation, it inspired 100,000 slaves to risk everything in an effort to be free.[1]

Perhaps the word “dupe” has taken on a different meaning over time, but Abigail’s accusation that the colony allowed themselves to be deceived or tricked—and shamefully so—seems exaggerated to me. I do not see how the patriots could have prevented this strategic act by Dunmore; however, I do not know the full story.

Next, in a polite yet outspoken paragraph, Abigail calls out the hypocrisy of the slave-owning leaders of the revolution, her husband’s compatriots. When she notes that perhaps “the passion for Liberty cannot be Eaquelly [sic.] Strong in the Breasts of those who have been accustomed to deprive their fellow Creatures of theirs,” she almost certainly is criticizing those fourteen of the twenty-one most prominent founding fathers who depended on slave labor for their financial success, yet publicly espoused the virtue of liberty as the central cause for revolution.[2]

More noteworthy is Abigail’s remark that “I am certain that [the passion for Liberty] is not founded upon that generous and christian principal [sic.] of doing to others as we would that others should do unto us.” As a modern reader, it seems only reasonable that Abigail note the hypocrisy at play here; it seems ironic that men struggling to cast off the yoke of tyranny hold other humans in captivity, and it is satisfying to see someone call this into question.

However, this questioning becomes quite extraordinary when put into context. That Abigail felt safe to question the motivations of her husband’s co-founders is evidence for the equality and freedom of speech she shared with John in their relationship. It also shows her independence as a thinker—in a time when men were expected to be the intellectuals and women to be the manual laborers of the home, Abigail displays little regard for prescribed gender roles and speaks her beliefs with backbone.

What follows is a sudden reminder that despite the casual, businesslike mood of Abigail’s letter, she and her children are in the midst of a military war and are actually living in the warzone. While reading the document, Abigail’s now-antiquated, well-educated prose and gently urging tone conjures up a romanticized version of events that ignores the gritty reality of the Revolutionary War. Abigail’s descriptions of the “abominable ravages” of marauding parties and implications that her family has evacuated its house are a startling reality check; the reader is reminded that her life has become dangerous and difficult.

If Abigail’s earlier admonition of the slaveholding founding fathers seemed radical, her proceeding writing is possibly even more revolutionary. Perhaps John had already told Abigail that a Code of Laws would be necessary to establish, should the colonists declare independence, and they had previously discussed the matter. Even so, the casual, offhand diction Abigail uses to introduce the subject of the soon-to-be Constitution seems odd, and even humorous. “By the way,” Abigail writes, “in the new Code of Laws which I suppose it will be necessary for you to make I desire you would Remember the Ladies.” This flippant use of language, when preceding a request as momentous as this, may be a calculated decision. When responding to her request, John cannot point to Abigail’s admission that to “Remember the Ladies” is asking much of him, and therefore proclaim it inappropriate or impossible.

Abigail finally takes a straightforward and pointed tone when she entreats her husband to “put it out of the power of the vicious and the Lawless to use [women] with cruelty and indignity with impunity.” She even uses the words of the revolutionaries against him, showing echoes of the unborn Declaration of Independence when she says, “Do not put such unlimited power into the hands of the Husbands,” and furthermore that women “will not hold ourselves bound by any Laws in which we have no voice, or Representation.” This clever redirection of words is particularly effective because this comes after earlier criticism of hypocrisy. She reminds her husband that while he is struggling to end an unjust relationship with Great Britain, women throughout the colonies are straining under a similarly unequal relationship with men imposed by a patriarchal society.

Despite her drive for lobbying and political advising, Abigail’s primary role is that of the wife and leader of the Adams household. She finished the letter with news of family, friends, and neighbors, serving as her husband’s eyes and ears when he cannot be in town. Yet the way she signs the letter, “Your ever faithful Friend,” once again hints at the unusual equality of their relationship that allowed her to criticize revolutionaries for hypocrisy and to passionately advocate for women’s rights.

[1] “Proclamation of Earl of Dunmore.” PBS. WGBH Educational Foundation, 1998. Web. 17 Feb. 2015. .

[2] “The Founding Fathers and Slavery”. Encyclopædia Britannica. Encyclopædia Britannica Online. Encyclopædia Britannica Inc., 2015. Web. 16 Feb. 2015
.

      

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By admin

Carolyn Raihala

HIS 245

Primary Source Analysis

Abigail Adams: Lobbyist and Political Advisor

Abigail and John Adams carried out an extensive written correspondence from their pre-marriage days of courtship in 1762 up through John’s presidency from 1796 to 1801. In their letters, they write not only of their mutual affection and the day-to-day undertakings of their lives, but of politics and philosophy, exchanging ideas as intellectual equals. In this letter, known as the “remember the ladies letter” for her farsighted lobbying on behalf of women, Abigail Adams leaves the contemporary gender role for women far behind as she critiques her husband’s co-revolutionaries and demands that John include protections for women in the Constitution.

When I first read this letter, I was curious to know about Dunmore and the situation to which Abigail refers when she criticizes the colony for having been “shamefully duped by a Dunmore.” The man in question refers to John Murray, the Fourth Earl of Dunmore and the Royal Governor of Virginia. He is infamous (if seen from Adams’s perspective) for issuing a proclamation on November 14, 1775 in which he offered freedom to slaves who would leave their patriot masters and join the loyalist forces.

Consequently, colonists previously focused on waging war against the British put their energies into protecting their families and property against this growing threat. And though relatively few slaves actually joined the British army as a result of this proclamation, it inspired 100,000 slaves to risk everything in an effort to be free.[1]

Perhaps the word “dupe” has taken on a different meaning over time, but Abigail’s accusation that the colony allowed themselves to be deceived or tricked—and shamefully so—seems exaggerated to me. I do not see how the patriots could have prevented this strategic act by Dunmore; however, I do not know the full story.

Next, in a polite yet outspoken paragraph, Abigail calls out the hypocrisy of the slave-owning leaders of the revolution, her husband’s compatriots. When she notes that perhaps “the passion for Liberty cannot be Eaquelly [sic.] Strong in the Breasts of those who have been accustomed to deprive their fellow Creatures of theirs,” she almost certainly is criticizing those fourteen of the twenty-one most prominent founding fathers who depended on slave labor for their financial success, yet publicly espoused the virtue of liberty as the central cause for revolution.[2]

More noteworthy is Abigail’s remark that “I am certain that [the passion for Liberty] is not founded upon that generous and christian principal [sic.] of doing to others as we would that others should do unto us.” As a modern reader, it seems only reasonable that Abigail note the hypocrisy at play here; it seems ironic that men struggling to cast off the yoke of tyranny hold other humans in captivity, and it is satisfying to see someone call this into question.

However, this questioning becomes quite extraordinary when put into context. That Abigail felt safe to question the motivations of her husband’s co-founders is evidence for the equality and freedom of speech she shared with John in their relationship. It also shows her independence as a thinker—in a time when men were expected to be the intellectuals and women to be the manual laborers of the home, Abigail displays little regard for prescribed gender roles and speaks her beliefs with backbone.

What follows is a sudden reminder that despite the casual, businesslike mood of Abigail’s letter, she and her children are in the midst of a military war and are actually living in the warzone. While reading the document, Abigail’s now-antiquated, well-educated prose and gently urging tone conjures up a romanticized version of events that ignores the gritty reality of the Revolutionary War. Abigail’s descriptions of the “abominable ravages” of marauding parties and implications that her family has evacuated its house are a startling reality check; the reader is reminded that her life has become dangerous and difficult.

If Abigail’s earlier admonition of the slaveholding founding fathers seemed radical, her proceeding writing is possibly even more revolutionary. Perhaps John had already told Abigail that a Code of Laws would be necessary to establish, should the colonists declare independence, and they had previously discussed the matter. Even so, the casual, offhand diction Abigail uses to introduce the subject of the soon-to-be Constitution seems odd, and even humorous. “By the way,” Abigail writes, “in the new Code of Laws which I suppose it will be necessary for you to make I desire you would Remember the Ladies.” This flippant use of language, when preceding a request as momentous as this, may be a calculated decision. When responding to her request, John cannot point to Abigail’s admission that to “Remember the Ladies” is asking much of him, and therefore proclaim it inappropriate or impossible.

Abigail finally takes a straightforward and pointed tone when she entreats her husband to “put it out of the power of the vicious and the Lawless to use [women] with cruelty and indignity with impunity.” She even uses the words of the revolutionaries against him, showing echoes of the unborn Declaration of Independence when she says, “Do not put such unlimited power into the hands of the Husbands,” and furthermore that women “will not hold ourselves bound by any Laws in which we have no voice, or Representation.” This clever redirection of words is particularly effective because this comes after earlier criticism of hypocrisy. She reminds her husband that while he is struggling to end an unjust relationship with Great Britain, women throughout the colonies are straining under a similarly unequal relationship with men imposed by a patriarchal society.

Despite her drive for lobbying and political advising, Abigail’s primary role is that of the wife and leader of the Adams household. She finished the letter with news of family, friends, and neighbors, serving as her husband’s eyes and ears when he cannot be in town. Yet the way she signs the letter, “Your ever faithful Friend,” once again hints at the unusual equality of their relationship that allowed her to criticize revolutionaries for hypocrisy and to passionately advocate for women’s rights.

[1] “Proclamation of Earl of Dunmore.” PBS. WGBH Educational Foundation, 1998. Web. 17 Feb. 2015. .

[2] “The Founding Fathers and Slavery”. Encyclopædia Britannica. Encyclopædia Britannica Online. Encyclopædia Britannica Inc., 2015. Web. 16 Feb. 2015
.

      

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By Alec

Alec Custer

2/17/15

HIS 245 Shrout

Group A: Historiography

“Working with Networks”

Writing about the Communities and Celebrities of the American Revolution

Only during the last decade has the term “social network” entered the public vernacular as a moniker for websites like Facebook, Twitter, and MySpace that connect people online. Social networks more broadly, however, have been an area of interest for historians, sociologists, and scholars of other disciplines for much longer. In their essay “Network Analysis, Culture, and the Problem of Agency”, Mustafa Emirbayer and Jeff Goodwin describe network analysis in the context of academia as “a broad strategy for investigating social structure … [which] rejects all attempts to explain human behavior or social processes solely in terms of the categorical attributes of actors … [and] directs attention exclusively to the overall structure of network ties.”[1] Unsurprisingly, a “broad strategy” lends itself to a broad range of applicability; just one of the myriad historical subjects of network analysis thus far has been the American Revolution. In this essay, I aim to use two applications of network analysis to this very field in conjunction with Emirbayer and Goodwin’s critique of this “broad strategy” to piece together an understanding of the state of modern studies of the American Revolution, namely those which feature social networks as their primary framework.

Though Michael Warner’s 1986 piece “Franklin and the Letters of the Republic” does not explicitly mention or apply the method of network analysis, it is nonetheless an investigation into the webs of communication that catalyzed and facilitated the American Revolution. Warner zooms in upon the community of politically influential male colonists whose shared writings constitute the “republic of letters”, and places founding father Benjamin Franklin at the center of the network. In focusing on Franklin’s actions and motivations in particular, Warner addresses and perhaps overcompensates for what Emirbayer and Goodwin will claim in 1994 to be the major weakness of network analysis: accounting for agency. The two authors point out that networks, in their focus on the patterns of relationships formed by individuals, ignore the fact that “agency and structure interpenetrate with one another in all individual units (as well as complexes) of empirical action”.[2] They cite two watershed moments in American sociology, the first being a post-1940s transition from focusing on the social group to focusing on the individual, and the second a much more recent redirection of attention back from the personal to the systemic.[3] Warner’s writing on Benjamin Franklin’s figurehead status within the Republic of Letters strikes me as caught in-between these two turning points. On one hand, Warner’s ultimate goal is to position Franklin as an ideal “man of letters” acting within the “republic of letters”, which is in itself an acknowledgment of Franklin’s role within a network of communication whose influence surpassed even this founding father’s. At the same time, Warner puts the spotlight so directly on Franklin that in the process of establishing the importance of a single node, he largely dismisses the other, surrounding nodes. Warner thus addresses, a limited degree, Emirbayer and Goodwin’s concern for the agency of individuals in networks, but limits himself to the agency of single actor rather than that of the whole cast. Such an approach is perhaps indicative of the transformations taking place within the field at the time of Warner’s writing (and which are still continuing today), toward a perspective in which the individual’s role must be weighed against the role of the various systems of which he or she was a member.

A much more recent piece by Kieran Healy demonstrates what may be the product of Emirbayer and Goodwin’s “second watershed.” In his blog post “Using Metadata to find Paul Revere”, Healy directly utilizes the quantitative tools of network analysis, in this case to generate data showing the connectedness of revolutionaries based on co-memberships in various organizations.[4] Though Healy does end up arguing that Paul Revere was one of the key players of the American Revolution based on his high marks on tests of network centrality, his post is actually more of a showcase of the utility of metadata and network analysis for studying both individuals and groups. Healy emphasizes both the promises and pitfalls of using a simple table of memberships, a mere “sliver of metadata”, to conjure “a social network between individuals, a sense of the degree of connection between organizations, and some strong hints of who the key players are [in the network.]”.[5] Healy’s cautiously optimistic treatment of methods of network analysis is crucial, for it reveals that even almost three decades since Warner’s article, the proper usage of social networks in studying the American Revolution and history in general is still being negotiated. Healy’s treatment of Paul Revere as not the but an important figure does suggest at least a minor shift away from Warner’s own Franklin-centric interpretation, and perhaps toward a more dualistic view of the Revolution as a product of both powerful individuals and equally powerful organizations. Emirbayer and Goodwin actually point to this compromise as one of the strengths of network analysis, for it acknowledges that “individual and group behavior … cannot be fully understood independently of one another” and works to “bridge the ‘micro-macro gap’” between micro- and macro-sociology.[6]

It should be noted, though, that the entire purpose of Healy’s network analysis (aside from just demonstrating its power) was not to draw conclusions about the network as a whole but to identify Paul Revere as a central node. The tendency amongst historians to look for “power players” in networks and communities, while on the decline, doesn’t seem to have died out yet. This very tendency, which I learned in the process of writing this paper is more formally known as “great man theory”[7], has dominated my own interpretation of the American Revolution. Throughout elementary, middle, and high school my instructors and textbooks have focused on the bigwigs: Washington and Jefferson, Franklin and Revere, Adams and Hancock. However, the three writings which have fueled the analysis of this essay suggest that support for the “great man theory”, while still prominent, may be waning – or at least that its scope must soon make space for “great networks”, as well.

[1] Emirbayer, Mustafa, and Jeff Goodwin. 1994. ‘Network Analysis, Culture, And The Problem Of Agency’. American Journal Of Sociology 99 (6), 1414.

[2] Emirbayer and Goodwin, 1443-1444.

[3] Emirbayer and Goodwin, 1416-1417.

[4] Healy, Kieran. 2013. ‘Using Metadata To Find Paul Revere’. Kieranhealy.Org. http://kieranhealy.org/blog/archives/2013/06/09/using-metadata-to-find-paul-revere/.

[5] Healy.

[6] 1417-1418.

[7] Dictionary.com, s.v. “Great Man Theory,” accessed February 16, 2015, http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/great%20man%20theory.

Works Cited

Dictionary.com, s.v. “Great Man Theory,” accessed February 16, 2015, http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/great%20man%20theory.

Emirbayer, Mustafa, and Jeff Goodwin. 1994. ‘Network Analysis, Culture, And The Problem Of Agency’. American Journal Of Sociology 99 (6).

Healy, Kieran. 2013. ‘Using Metadata To Find Paul Revere’. Kieranhealy.Org. http://kieranhealy.org/blog/archives/2013/06/09/using-metadata-to-find-paul-revere/.

Warner, Michael. 1986. ‘Franklin And The Letters Of The Republic’. Representations 16 (1).

      

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By Kurt Vidmer

Digital Archive Assessment

Avery, Kurt, Wilson and Aidan

The Newberry Library’s “Digital Collections for Classroom-Representing the American Revolution, 1768–1893,” is an archive of sources dedicated to making sources pertaining to the American Revolution available for students. The main focus of this archive is to analyze the historical impacts of the American Revolution and its implications upon historical teachings. It also tracks the evolution of the way the American Revolution was taught as America continued to progress. It is a very comprehensive archive containing a wide variety of sources and perspectives.

We used three criteria to assess the archive:

1. Critical review
   1. What point of view does the archive present?
   2. Quality of primary sources
2. User Interface
   1. How is it set up?
   2. Does it enhance your experience of the primary documents?
   3. Aesthetics
3. Utility
   1. Where/how do we see this collection being useful?

Critical Review

Perspectives

In their introduction, the curators ask: “How did people interpret the events of the American Revolution in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries?” and “In what ways has the Revolution meant different things to different people at any given time?” I was prepared to be disappointed, but the curators delivered an impressively broad range of perspectives, including patriot colonists’ point of view, views of Englishmen across the ocean, and the perspective of enslaved persons.

Though the authors are careful to explicitly state the point of views representing in their first set of documents describing colonial reaction to the revolution. The curators write:

“Two points are worth noting: First, both of these texts present the perspectives of people who resisted British rule… Second, the events to which these writers respond occurred in the years before the military conflict actually began in 1775. It is only in retrospect, knowing the Revolution would soon begin, that historians can look to these sources for evidence of the cultural and political climate that would soon lead many colonists to take up arms against British rule.”

However, such explicit disclaimers are nonexistent after that. The collection is redeemed by its effort to include primary sources from so many different people on different sides of the conflict, but it would have been helpful for the curators to continue to openly qualify the documents.

Quality of primary sources

Primary sources include broadsides, speech transcriptions, printed images, song/poems, and a map. Overall the curators provided quality sources, including sources that seem only tangentially related to the American Revolution, but actually greatly contribute to our understanding of it.

The source set representing the construction of American national identity in the 19^th century hosts some of the most interesting sources. This set is also interesting as a primary/secondary crossover source. These 19^th century sources tell the narrative arc of the revolution as it was memorialized, providing an important step for us today in monitoring our reactions to revolutionary sources—if we can see how national opinions were shaped, we can understand better why we might react the way we do today as Americans looking back at our history.

Another unconventional but highly relevant source that the curators include is James Theodore Holly’s “A Vindication of the Capacity of the Negro Race for Self-Government, and Civilized Progress, as Demonstrated by Historical Events of the Haytian Revolution.” This source brings the American Revolution into a more global perspective (beyond England), as well as acknowledging the important intellectual and strategic contributions of a minority group.

User Interface

The user interface for this collection is well-designed.

Overall, the design packages resources relating to the document sets in a way that clearly indicates the sources’ original context, as well as allowing users to search for other relevant information. The curators provided a very clear, hyperlinked table of contents which lets users quickly jump to their desired section. Each primary source image stands out on a white background, and its metadata set is easily accessible by clicking the tab just to the right of the image. Captions provide a helpful, quick summary of the image. Each source is also tagged with a variety of key words. If a user clicks on a tag, it takes them to a page with related items found in other digital collections of the Newberry Library.

Aesthetically, the interface makes good use of appropriately contrasting colors and readable fonts. The site as a whole is a little bit text-heavy in certain sections, and might do better to place primary source boxes in the text body rather than providing the summary write-up for each set and then showcasing all the primary sources in a row.

Utility

The utility of the Archive “Digital Collections for Classroom-Representing the American Revolution, 1768–1893” is to serve as a resource for students wishing to further explore the historical implications of the American Revolution. This is a very valuable asset to students because it contains multiple types of sources, such as written texts, maps, and pictures. These are all very valuable as it enables students to further strengthen their knowledge by analyzing the historical context behind a wide range of sources. This archive also includes a great amount of primary sources, further extending opportunities to analyze historical documents. It also appears that this archive caters to the high school age students, because after each source there is a list of questions to consider while reading, making it easier for a younger demographic to follow along with these sources.

      

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By admin

Assessment by Avery, Kurt, Wilson and Aidan

The Newberry Library’s “Digital Collections for Classroom-Representing the American Revolution, 1768–1893,” is an archive of sources dedicated to making sources pertaining to the American Revolution available for students. The main focus of this archive is to analyze the historical impacts of the American Revolution and its implications upon historical teachings. It also tracks the evolution of the way the American Revolution was taught as America continued to progress. It is a very comprehensive archive containing a wide variety of sources and perspectives.

We used three criteria to assess the archive:

Critical review

• What point of view does the archive present?
• Quality of primary sources

User Interface

• How is the collection set up?
• Does the collection enhance your experience of the primary documents?
• Aesthetics

Utility

• Where/how do we see this collection being useful?

Critical Review

Perspectives

In their introduction, the curators ask: “How did people interpret the events of the American Revolution in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries?” and “In what ways has the Revolution meant different things to different people at any given time?” I was prepared to be disappointed, but the curators delivered an impressively broad range of perspectives, including patriot colonists’ point of view, views of Englishmen across the ocean, and the perspective of enslaved persons.

Though the authors are careful to explicitly state the point of views representing in their first set of documents describing colonial reaction to the revolution. The curators write:

“Two points are worth noting: First, both of these texts present the perspectives of people who resisted British rule… Second, the events to which these writers respond occurred in the years before the military conflict actually began in 1775. It is only in retrospect, knowing the Revolution would soon begin, that historians can look to these sources for evidence of the cultural and political climate that would soon lead many colonists to take up arms against British rule.”

However, such explicit disclaimers are nonexistent after that. The collection is redeemed by its effort to include primary sources from so many different people on different sides of the conflict, but it would have been helpful for the curators to continue to openly qualify the documents.

Quality of primary sources

Primary sources include broadsides, speech transcriptions, printed images, song/poems, and a map. Overall the curators provided quality sources, including sources that seem only tangentially related to the American Revolution, but actually greatly contribute to our understanding of it.

The source set representing the construction of American national identity in the 19^th century hosts some of the most interesting sources. This set is also interesting as a primary/secondary crossover source. These 19^th century sources tell the narrative arc of the revolution as it was memorialized, providing an important step for us today in monitoring our reactions to revolutionary sources—if we can see how national opinions were shaped, we can understand better why we might react the way we do today as Americans looking back at our history.

Another unconventional but highly relevant source that the curators include is James Theodore Holly’s “A Vindication of the Capacity of the Negro Race for Self-Government, and Civilized Progress, as Demonstrated by Historical Events of the Haytian Revolution.” This source brings the American Revolution into a more global perspective (beyond England), as well as acknowledging the important intellectual and strategic contributions of a minority group.

User Interface

The user interface for this collection is well-designed.

Overall, the design packages resources relating to the document sets in a way that clearly indicates the sources’ original context, as well as allowing users to search for other relevant information. The curators provided a very clear, hyperlinked table of contents which lets users quickly jump to their desired section. Each primary source image stands out on a white background, and its metadata set is easily accessible by clicking the tab just to the right of the image. Captions provide a helpful, quick summary of the image. Each source is also tagged with a variety of key words. If a user clicks on a tag, it takes them to a page with related items found in other digital collections of the Newberry Library.

Aesthetically, the interface makes good use of appropriately contrasting colors and readable fonts. The site as a whole is a little bit text-heavy in certain sections, and might do better to place primary source boxes in the text body rather than providing the summary write-up for each set and then showcasing all the primary sources in a row.

Utility

The utility of the Archive “Digital Collections for Classroom-Representing the American Revolution, 1768–1893” is to serve as a resource for students wishing to further explore the historical implications of the American Revolution. This is a very valuable asset to students because it contains multiple types of sources, such as written texts, maps, and pictures. These are all very valuable as it enables students to further strengthen their knowledge by analyzing the historical context behind a wide range of sources. This archive also includes a great amount of primary sources, further extending opportunities to analyze historical documents. It also appears that this archive caters to the high school age students, because after each source there is a list of questions to consider while reading, making it easier for a younger demographic to follow along with these sources.