Creating the United States was the work of more than one nation. What commercial and strategic concerns went into its birth? And what really cost the British crown their 13 colonies?
Barbara Tuchman takes a long view in appreciating the forces at play in the struggle, for example spotlighting the Netherlands’ bloody overthrow of Catholic rule in the 1500s. Subtitled “A View of the American Revolution,” the book explains how French and Dutch support, along with British ineptitude, helped realize the United States.
If you can tolerate the author hopping approach to developing a thesis and multiple detours into 20th century politics, you may enjoy this colorful, fast-moving-once-it-gets-going account.
Tuchman’s account begins unlikely enough in the Caribbean island of St. (or Sint) Eustatius, often called “Statia” for short. Then as now a Dutch colony, its governor made the unprecedented gesture in November 1776 of returning a salute made by a rebel brig-of-war, the Andrew Doria, as she sailed into harbor.
 |
| Ships anchoring at St. Eustatius, as it was drawn by S. Weuijster in 1763, 13 years before it fired "the first salute." According to the British politician Edmund Burke: "Its proprietors had, in the spirit of commerce, made it an emporium for all the world..." Image from https://caribbeansealife.com/2018/04/02/st-eustatius/ |
It was the first time an American vessel was so recognized, a signal of welcome to a new nation. Whether that signal was a bugle call or more like a gazoo is hard to say. Tuchman notes a fair deal of post-hoc prevarication by the governor of Statia, Johannes de Graaff, suggesting the harbormasters were ignorant of just what flag flew over the Andrew Doria and just being hospitable.
Eventually the author comes down on it being nothing less than a new phase in a year-and-a-half long fight to overthrow British rule:
Eustatius’s salute was of no great importance except for what it led to. By intentionally encouraging, in defiance of his own government, the Dutch trade in military armament to the Colonies, the Governor assured the continuance of shipments from St. Eustatius, a critical factor in saving the American Revolution at its frail beginnings from starvation of firepower.
St. Eustatius had already become a vital source of supply for the American independence movement. Even British merchants who plied their trade on the island got in on the act of selling to the rebels.
 |
| A 1976 stamp from the Dutch Antilles, which includes Sint Eustatius, honors Johannes de Graaff. He did not deny saluting the flag of the American ship, Tuchman says: "he simply asked how his accusers could show that he had recognized it." Image from https://colnect.com/en/stamps/stamp/256297-Johannes_de_Graaff_Governor_of_St_Eustatius-200th_Anniversary_of_the_First_Gun_Salute_for_the_US_Flag-Netherlands_Antilles |
“If Eustatian shippers had not been indefatigable in defying the embargo and evading their pursuers, continuance of the American Revolution at this stage might have been a close call,” Tuchman writes.
Later on, Holland lent aid of a different kind closer to home, when a British warship captured by U. S. Navy Captain John Paul Jones sailed into the Dutch harbor at Texel for repairs. Again Holland played dumb when the British complained.
Meanwhile, the people of Texel gave the Serapis a hero’s welcome. Tuchman quotes John Paul Jones:
“Every day the blessed women come to the ships in great numbers, mothers, daughters, even little girls, bringing with them for our wounded all the numberless little comforts of Dutch homes, a tribute that came from the hearts of the people, and therefore far overlaid in effect all statecraft and all diplomacy against us.”
 |
| Probably the most famous naval battle of the American Revolution saw the seizure of the Serapis at Flamborough Head, off the coast of Yorkshire. The victorious John Paul Jones was forced to make for Holland on his captured prize, as his own ship, the Bonhomme Richard, was too damaged to save. Image from https://shipwrecksandseadogs.com/blog/2023/07/15/john-paul-jones/ |
The Dutch would eventually pay a price for their friendliness, the British using it as an excuse to declare war and swallow up some territory. A British fleet arrived at Statia to occupy the wealthy trading hub, not for very long, but long enough to exact a toll in pillage.
Tuchman also delves into how two centuries of democratic tradition factored into Dutch friendliness for the new kid on the block:
If Thomas Jefferson thought his authorship of the American Declaration of Independence was his proudest work, as the inscription on his tombstone indicates, he might have spared a thought to the Dutch proclamation of 1581, which anticipated his argument two centuries earlier in almost identical terms.
Engaging as the Dutch role in American independence is, it is more material for an essay than a book. And a collection of loosely connected essays is what you wind up with here. Tuchman is not writing so much about St. Eustatius or the Dutch as choosing a very roundabout way from which to then examine the American Revolution from three non-Dutch vantage points: the Americans, the British, and the French.
 |
| The British House of Commons, circa the late 1700s. During the American Revolution, it was bitterly divided for years between those who wanted to fight for the Colonies and those who wanted peace. "When the party system regulates, argument addresses the deaf," Tuchman writes. Painting by Karl Anton Hickel from https://ageofrevolution.org/200-object/the-house-of-commons-1783-94/ |
Here you have the good and the bad of Tuchman’s signature approach to retelling history. On the upside, you get a multiplicity of contrasting portraits delivered with gusto and vibrancy, an engaged way of describing situations in flux, and wry side comments. “Preconceived fixed notions can be more damaging than cannon,” she writes.
On the downside, Tuchman’s judgmental way of using 20/20 hindsight as a battering ram on chosen targets often grates. Other historians make more of an effort to explain the context that shaped people’s thinking in different times. Tuchman just has at their flaws as seen through a 20th century liberal’s narrow prism:
The appetite for power is old and irrepressible in humankind, and in its action almost always destructive. When exercised for the seizure of territory or suppression of liberties, it cannot be said to add to the welfare or happiness or improve the quality of life of those it rules, nor bring content to the ruler. What is it good for? As an inveterate activity of our species, it is largely a waste of time.
Cue Edwin Starr here.
While engaging with personalities of great scope and boiling them down into relatable profiles was a signature gift of Tuchman’s, she had an annoying habit of overpraising individuals, ignoring flaws to showcase how they represented unconventional ideals. Other books held out “Vinegar Joe” Stilwell and Enguerrand VII de Coucy for overboard admiration. Here the figure is George Rodney, a British admiral.
 |
| Admiral George Rodney taking charge. A characteristic order Tuchman quotes the stern leader issuing to his fleet: "The painful task of thinking belongs to me. You need only obey orders implicitly without question." Painting by Thomas Gainsborough from https://www.thoughtco.com/admiral-george-rodney-baron-rodney-2361160 |
Rodney fought with distinction in battles that occurred before and after the American Revolution. During it, he accomplished little, other than capturing St. Eustatius and unsuccessfully attempting to loot it. [His prize ship was captured by the French.] A prostate ailment worsened by the tropical climate forced him home before he could intercept a French fleet sailing to Yorktown to aid the Rebellion.
Rodney was a pivotal figure in the Revolution only if you consider him the dog that did not bark.
Despite Rodney being of such modest use to his king against the Rebels, Tuchman employs him effectively enough to showcase the fractured nature of Great Britain’s part in the struggle. This allows her to draw parallels to how the United States later lost the war in Vietnam.
She writes: The lesson was not yet clear in the 18th century, as America was to learn to her cost in our own century, that the presence of disunity in the military about method and strategy, and among the nation’s people about the rightness of the war aim, makes it impossible for a war of any duration to be fought effectively and won.
 |
| European assistance came from more than France and Holland. Spain provided both material and strategic support by occupying Florida, while Tuchman profiles the legendary Prussian, Baron von Steuben, painted here training soldiers at Valley Forge in the winter of 1777-1778. He was one of many Europeans to serve in the Continental Army. Painting by Edwin Austin Abbey from https://www.icanvas.com/canvas-print/baron-von-steuben-drilling-american-recruits-at-valley-forge-in-bmn10153#1PC6-26x18 |
That Tuchman harps on this so often doesn’t make it untrue. But the repetition gets annoying. Too often, British figures other than Rodney are presented as caricatures rather than human beings to advance pet themes, like an unwillingness to deal with changing times.
The French can’t help but come off better, though Tuchman notes they were ill-served by their service to America. The 1.5 billion livres loaned by King Louis XVI would wind up costing him his crown and his life. If generosity is presented as a common trait among the French in Tuchman’s book, so is a cheerful kind of devil-may-care eccentricity.
Huffs one French minister: “I don’t think much of these naval combats. C’est piff poff on one side and the other, and leaves the sea afterwards as salty as before.”
Tuchman suggests an affinity for the American experiment compelled the French to give until it hurt, as was the case with the Dutch. Whatever the case, there were undeniably other factors, too, like opening a new and abundant marketplace to commercial traffic and dealing a blow to a hated rival, to “keep Britain occupied in its toil,” as she puts it.
 |
| According to Tuchman, the winter in Morristown, New Jersey in 1779-80 was George Washington's lowest point in the war, worse even than Valley Forge two winters before. Final victory was less than two years away. with the arrival of the French and the capture of a British army in Yorktown, Virginia. Image from https://www.battlefields.org/learn/articles/washingtons-encampment-morristown-new-jersey-and-hard-winter-1779-1780 |
Ultimately, The First Salute doesn’t come together until the last chapter, which covers the Battle of Yorktown from the perspective of three nationalities, British, French, and American. Because she invests so much time setting the background, a reader can appreciate the idea of how miraculous this finale truly was:
In the result, the wheel of fortune – or Providence, in which Washington firmly trusted, with a helping hand from himself – turned upward on the American side. Faultless timing and good luck at every fork were to bring about the rarest of military operations – a campaign in which everything coordinates and no one of a hundred chances takes the wrong turn in the road. – on the combined movement of French and American forces leading up to Yorktown.
The
best I can say for The First Salute is to call out how happy it is, with
moments of heartfelt nationalistic gratitude for how everything turned out.
Tuchman’s specialty was more often on the tragic side of history, as with The Guns Of August and the even more depressing A Distant Mirror. Here,
in what amounted to a curtain call of her career, she takes time to celebrate
the origins of her homeland, if not without pointed criticism for its future
direction.
No comments:
Post a Comment