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CLOTHED IN ROBES OF SOVEREIGNTY: The Continental Congress And The People Out Of Doors
This volume examines the material artifacts, festivities, and rituals by which Congress endeavored not only to assert its political legitimacy and to bolster the war effort, but ultimately to glorify the United States and to win the allegiance of the American people.
396 pages, Paperback
First published March 21, 2011
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
November 21, 2014
Pretty interesting book, clearly written, concise. Basic argument is that the Continental Congress used ceremonies, symbols, and items to create a sense of American nationhood and assert their sovereignty over that nation. In turn, "people out of doors" appropriated and reused those things to assert their own political opinions. Ends with a fascinating meditation on the continuing significance of rites and items in patriotic expression and politics in general. Probably the most interesting part was about the military as a challenger to the Congress' symbolic and actual role as the sovereign center of the nation. Irvin argues that neither the CC nor the military as a whole came to symbolically embody the nation. Rather, George Washington did, as he was the perfect balance of deference to civilian authority, humility, and martial valor. Sometime you feel like you are reading some interesting but peripheral things, which can be frustrating at times. For instance, what Ben Franklin put on different denominations of currency is interesting for seeing Franklin's views on the new nation, but most people cared less about the symbols and messages on the coins and more about the value of the currency. Form can be a window into content, but it's also important to wrestle with the content of these ideas and the developing nation. This book is mostly about the former.
November 24, 2014
Before I started this book I was prepared for a difficult read. When I read David Waldstreicher's In the Midst of Perpetual Fetes: The Making of American Nationalism back in October, I found it hard to understand his abstractions and dense prose—although there were certainly important ideas in the book that I gleaned with some effort and through a seminar discussion. Most cultural histories that I have read in the past, especially those that focus on "peoples out of doors" rely on a lot of theoretical jargon and abstraction.
Benjamin H. Irvin's Clothed in Robes of Sovereignty, however, is a clearly written and enjoyable analytical narrative of The Continental Congress throughout the American Revolution. To telescope his argument some, he starts from two major premises. First, when the American Revolution severed colonists' relationship with Britain's political and imperial culture the Continental Congress tried to fill this void by appropriating familiar forms of political culture, commemoration, memorials, and celebrations from Europeans and Native Americans to wed the American public to the new American Republic. His second premise is that although Congress ostensibly controlled and disseminated political culture throughout the colonies it was later seized and used to different ends by the diverse population that included loyalists, Quakers, patriots, Presbyterians, among others. This is a book less about the politics within Congress—the various political factions, acts of legislation, and machinations—and more about how Congress shaped public attitudes toward the Revolution and Republic and how those "peoples out of doors" in turn borrowed, modified, and lampooned Congress's ideas.
The most interesting chapter, in my opinion, concerned the relationship between the Second Continental Congress/Confederation Congress and the Continental Army. Irving argues that the Continental Army began fostering its own organizational culture that included class distinctions between officers and enlisted men, celebrations, ceremonies, dances and theater, and other forms of leisure that threatened the authority of Congress. Hence, Congress promulgated edicts later during the war that prohibited Continental Army officers from engaging in or condoning various forms of recreation that might lead to promiscuity, corruption, or vice among enlisted men. In the end, though, because Congress failed to fund the Continental Army and provision it with victuals, clothing, and munitions its authority waned and most Americans distrusted or loathed the Congress members. While the Second Continental Congress and subsequent Confederation Congress left Philadelphia quietly, George Washington and the Order of the Cincinnati rose to prominence because it constituted the appropriate mixture of virtue, deference, gentility, and authority. Although other historians have pointed out the historical origins of the U.S military's supposedly apolitical position in contemporary politics, Irving essentially describes how the battle between Congress and the Continental Army over who would control and direct the incipient national ethos circumscribed the latter's ability to maintain a large presence in the Early Republic, let alone operate in overtly political ways.
Irving's book does, at times, become tedious. When his cultural history moves into literary analysis of currency and debates about masculinity and gender he homes in one the contested meanings of specific words like "fancy" or "work," which can become especially minute and taxing for the reader. Stepping back, I couldn't help but wonder whether these fine-grained debates were at all significant for our understanding of the time period and its major political and social currents.
I would recommend this book to most readers interested in this time period. Irving successfully writes for both an academic and nonacademic audience. Moreover, this book doesn't cover the traditional mechanics of the Continental Congresses and instead contextualizes them within the cultural and social shifts happening in Philadelphia. This helps readers understand reasons (both conscious and subconscious) that lay behind many Congress members's actions, especially Robert Morris and Benjamin Franklin who become large figures in the book.
Benjamin H. Irvin's Clothed in Robes of Sovereignty, however, is a clearly written and enjoyable analytical narrative of The Continental Congress throughout the American Revolution. To telescope his argument some, he starts from two major premises. First, when the American Revolution severed colonists' relationship with Britain's political and imperial culture the Continental Congress tried to fill this void by appropriating familiar forms of political culture, commemoration, memorials, and celebrations from Europeans and Native Americans to wed the American public to the new American Republic. His second premise is that although Congress ostensibly controlled and disseminated political culture throughout the colonies it was later seized and used to different ends by the diverse population that included loyalists, Quakers, patriots, Presbyterians, among others. This is a book less about the politics within Congress—the various political factions, acts of legislation, and machinations—and more about how Congress shaped public attitudes toward the Revolution and Republic and how those "peoples out of doors" in turn borrowed, modified, and lampooned Congress's ideas.
The most interesting chapter, in my opinion, concerned the relationship between the Second Continental Congress/Confederation Congress and the Continental Army. Irving argues that the Continental Army began fostering its own organizational culture that included class distinctions between officers and enlisted men, celebrations, ceremonies, dances and theater, and other forms of leisure that threatened the authority of Congress. Hence, Congress promulgated edicts later during the war that prohibited Continental Army officers from engaging in or condoning various forms of recreation that might lead to promiscuity, corruption, or vice among enlisted men. In the end, though, because Congress failed to fund the Continental Army and provision it with victuals, clothing, and munitions its authority waned and most Americans distrusted or loathed the Congress members. While the Second Continental Congress and subsequent Confederation Congress left Philadelphia quietly, George Washington and the Order of the Cincinnati rose to prominence because it constituted the appropriate mixture of virtue, deference, gentility, and authority. Although other historians have pointed out the historical origins of the U.S military's supposedly apolitical position in contemporary politics, Irving essentially describes how the battle between Congress and the Continental Army over who would control and direct the incipient national ethos circumscribed the latter's ability to maintain a large presence in the Early Republic, let alone operate in overtly political ways.
Irving's book does, at times, become tedious. When his cultural history moves into literary analysis of currency and debates about masculinity and gender he homes in one the contested meanings of specific words like "fancy" or "work," which can become especially minute and taxing for the reader. Stepping back, I couldn't help but wonder whether these fine-grained debates were at all significant for our understanding of the time period and its major political and social currents.
I would recommend this book to most readers interested in this time period. Irving successfully writes for both an academic and nonacademic audience. Moreover, this book doesn't cover the traditional mechanics of the Continental Congresses and instead contextualizes them within the cultural and social shifts happening in Philadelphia. This helps readers understand reasons (both conscious and subconscious) that lay behind many Congress members's actions, especially Robert Morris and Benjamin Franklin who become large figures in the book.
November 19, 2019
A notional sequel to Brendan McConville’s THE KING’S THREE FACES, Benjamin Irvin’s monograph explains how the Continental Congress tried to build a new American national identity through ritual and symbolism, through swords and medals, illuminations and days of thanksgiving. Americans frequently contested or resisted these symbols of identity, and few survived the end of the Revolutionary War. American nationalism had its proponents during the War for Independence, but it proved a surprisingly weak ideology after 1783.
Congress initially sought to build unity and republican virtue through its currency, an “elaborately didactic paper money” (77) designed by Benjamin Franklin. Continental dollars urged poorer Americans to pursue industry and thrift, and elites to support inter-colonial union. The former messages probably fell on deaf ears, but some of the nationalist icons that the Congress employed became popular enough to appear on the Army’s regimental standards.
Concurrently, the Congress asserted its authority over the armed forces by sending representatives to militia musters, striking medals or engraving ceremonial swords with its own name, and proclaiming Continental fast and thanksgiving days (eight of each during the war). It tried to turn Independence Day into a national holiday by using rituals left over from the monarchical culture of the colonies: toasts, balls, and illuminations. It evoked the same culture in its diplomatic relations with Europeans and Native Americans, employing the hospitality rituals and kinship metaphors of the old colonial order. Irvin is a fair-minded writer, but the members of the Continental Congress do not come out of his narrative looking like innovative or skilled statesmen. Instead, they struck your reviewer as a pack of self-important elitist prats, trying to sidle into the same ritual space once occupied by the king. Their vision of nationalism was perhaps a bit more republican, but only in the same way that Venice was a republic.
Ultimately the Congress’s secondhand robes of sovereignty were repossessed by the consignment store. Inflation destroyed the value of its currency and of any hortatory messages it bore. The Army and militia lost patience with the Confederation’s failure to pay them, and sailors and soldiers rioted (in 1779 and ‘83) against it. American diplomatic ritual paled in comparison to the lavish balls and celebrations hosted by the French ambassador. Native Americans preferred to ally with a British government that could supply them and perhaps help protect their lands. Ordinary Americans lost interest in the rituals and icons of their first national government, apart from Independence Day, which eventually evolved into a celebration of beer, barbecue, illegal fireworks, and inventory-clearance sales. The government itself dissolved without even a whimper in late 1788, leaving the phrase “not worth a Continental” to testify to its own hollowness and that of its nation-building efforts.
Congress initially sought to build unity and republican virtue through its currency, an “elaborately didactic paper money” (77) designed by Benjamin Franklin. Continental dollars urged poorer Americans to pursue industry and thrift, and elites to support inter-colonial union. The former messages probably fell on deaf ears, but some of the nationalist icons that the Congress employed became popular enough to appear on the Army’s regimental standards.
Concurrently, the Congress asserted its authority over the armed forces by sending representatives to militia musters, striking medals or engraving ceremonial swords with its own name, and proclaiming Continental fast and thanksgiving days (eight of each during the war). It tried to turn Independence Day into a national holiday by using rituals left over from the monarchical culture of the colonies: toasts, balls, and illuminations. It evoked the same culture in its diplomatic relations with Europeans and Native Americans, employing the hospitality rituals and kinship metaphors of the old colonial order. Irvin is a fair-minded writer, but the members of the Continental Congress do not come out of his narrative looking like innovative or skilled statesmen. Instead, they struck your reviewer as a pack of self-important elitist prats, trying to sidle into the same ritual space once occupied by the king. Their vision of nationalism was perhaps a bit more republican, but only in the same way that Venice was a republic.
Ultimately the Congress’s secondhand robes of sovereignty were repossessed by the consignment store. Inflation destroyed the value of its currency and of any hortatory messages it bore. The Army and militia lost patience with the Confederation’s failure to pay them, and sailors and soldiers rioted (in 1779 and ‘83) against it. American diplomatic ritual paled in comparison to the lavish balls and celebrations hosted by the French ambassador. Native Americans preferred to ally with a British government that could supply them and perhaps help protect their lands. Ordinary Americans lost interest in the rituals and icons of their first national government, apart from Independence Day, which eventually evolved into a celebration of beer, barbecue, illegal fireworks, and inventory-clearance sales. The government itself dissolved without even a whimper in late 1788, leaving the phrase “not worth a Continental” to testify to its own hollowness and that of its nation-building efforts.
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews