Merrill D. Peterson (1921–2009)

This is a great book on the many different historiographies (historical interpretations) of Lincoln's life and career. Although considering the enormous volume of Lincoln literature, it's almost certainly not the only one. I already knew Lincoln was one of the most written-about figures in history, but did you know there have been tens of thousands (if not more) of books written on him since his death? They inevitably became quite redundant at some point, as this book points out.

What show more conclusions did I draw from it? Two things.

Between the huge number of conflicting, competing interpretations and the nineteenth-century's relative lack of ability to record information with veracity, any attempt to understand "the real Lincoln" is largely hopeless. My conclusion, not the book's.

The number of different groups and individuals who have used Lincoln as a pawn to represent their cause is astonishing. Even the Communist Party of America has claimed to solely represent the spirit of Lincoln, and that's only the most ridiculous example. (Their rationale was that they considered Lincoln essentially a working-class hero, which is one of the major interpretations.) Others have stronger, even if uncertain, support for exploiting Lincoln in death: the temperance movement, because Lincoln avoided alcohol; Christians, because even though Mrs. Lincoln explicitly stated her husband was "not a technical Christian" (whatever that meant--she apparently didn't explain), Lincoln did tell someone he believed Christ is God; atheists, because Lincoln's law partner William Herndon always insisted Lincoln was a "freethinker"; and Spiritualists, because...I have no idea. I would say that Lincoln's exact religious or spiritual beliefs are the most impossible to exactly answer of any questions concerning him; and the historiography has reached both extremes (devout Christian and atheistic freethinker) and a middle ground (an atheist who eventually found faith) at various times.

Other wildly differing interpretations:

Position on slavery and racial issues. Except for Southern partisans, there seems a clear consensus that Lincoln opposed slavery--enough that people can say "everybody knows that!" Racial issues are a completely different thing. Lincoln supported voluntary emigration to Liberia, but there is frequent belief that he supported it because he believed racial harmony was impossible. Even if this was untrue, recent interpretations have criticized him for that; for not issuing the Emancipation Proclamation sooner; and especially for prioritizing the integrity of the Union above eliminating slavery. Finally, many African-American thinkers (including Frederick Douglass) were appreciative but skeptical of Lincoln from the beginning; and ever since the civil rights movement, Dr. King has replaced Lincoln as the "Moses" of African-Americans.

Poets vs. academics. This is one way to characterize the extremes of interpretation: the difference between the poetic and the putatively objective. The poets began mourning, celebrating, or depicting Lincoln in verse immediately after his assassination, and poetic interpretations remained popular until at least the mid-twentieth century. The outstanding or most famous of these is Carl Sandburg. The interpretive mode, and frankly the goal, of poets like Sandburg is to create and perpetuate two things: a myth of Lincoln (myth in the neutral sense), and a folk interpretation that saw Lincoln as a quintessential American figure (even "the first American") and as a rustic (possibly working-class) who proved that someone of low birth and humble circumstances can do anything. Sandburg's popular biographies of Lincoln took this view, obviously. Academics complained that Sandburg's biographies were un-objective, ignoring or not realizing that objectivity wasn't the goal of poets.

Any good history bookshelf needs to contain this book, because although it doesn't make lists, it mentions so many titles on Lincoln (although only a few of the thousands), and opines on which are the most worthy, that the reader will inevitably add a few more titles to their reading list or movie list. I'm annoyed at myself for getting rid of my copy, and will buy another eventually. show less

A good guidebook, doing what such a book should do: (1) be an introduction to the subject, not too scholarly, not too dumb; (2) have good pictures, maps, and diagrams; (3) explain what you're seeing; and (4) keeping you entertained and intrigued. It is a good overview of Jefferson's career and life, especially focused on his home life at Monticello. The focus on Monticello's building, gardens, plantation, and home life are all covered quite well. The slaves are discussed too perfectly, show more describing their life without excoriating Jefferson as a slaveowner, but also not portraying slavery as some ante-industrial idyll. All well-balanced, interesting, and well-portrayed.

However, only the late historian Merrill D. Peterson falls into the political mire by trying to tell us what Jefferson means today. Listen to these progressive-liberal gems (p. 124): "Some of Jefferson's political and constitutional doctrines fall short of the standards of modern democracy and would, if firmly adhered to, defeat the liberal ends he had in view." Well, this assumes his views are liberal in the modern sense; that he thinks government should achieve these ends; and that democracy is a good thing. Indeed, liberal for Jefferson meant respecting freedom of the individual, not progressively democratic-socialist; he believed people themselves, not the government, should enlighten themselves; and that we had republic precisely because democracies could devolve into mobcentric tyrannies. Peterson continues: "His advocacy of the strict construction of the written constitution, for instance, has often been wielded as a weapon by conservative interests to hold back the exercise of governmental power for benign purposes." Wow! First, conservatives wield the constitution as a weapon? No. A shield, maybe. Unnecessary political swipe. And "the exercise of governmental power for benign purposes" assumes that, ipso facto, the government always has your best interests at heart. Tell that to the Soviets. Government power is almost never benign, I say, and I think Jefferson generally thought so too. He hated anybody telling him what to do, whether it be a priest or George III. I doubt Jefferson would have been all for the New Deal because it proposed to help people (even though it really didn't). Or Jefferson would be for LBJ's Great Society welfare programs because LBJ said it was a good thing (even though it destroys many of the people it hopes to help). I think Jefferson would have hated such programs because if the government is so big and can give you such "benign" things, it can take away your liberties. Jefferson was more concerned with personal liberties than, as Peterson says, "novel uses of power to advance the public good." Poppycock.

As I hate this soupy-sentimentalism that tries to make Jefferson an FDR/LBJ man, minus one star for Merrill Peterson's off-topic BS. Four stars for the good guidebook outside that. show less

Jefferson has proved enduringly protean, available to represent a variety of positions, and his reputation is on a seesaw with Hamilton’s. Notably, this 1960 work was reissued in 1998; all things considered, I bet Peterson really wishes he’d waited one more year before writing in his introduction to the reissue that the Sally Hemings connection was a “slander” and not “credible.” (As with most of the historians whose accounts he canvasses, Peterson can’t help picking a side, in show more this case pro-Jefferson.) He attributes the survival of the legend to the hatred of Federalists and their sons, as well as the desire of African-Americans for connection to the great man and the legacy of abolitionist claims about slaveowners’ abuse of slaves. Although he recounts James Hemings’ testimony, he just doesn’t think Jefferson was that kind of man—which really, really foregrounds the question of what ‘that kind of man’ is like, because there’s no explanation of which of Jefferson’s public characteristics supposedly were inconsistent with having children with Hemings. One could, in theory, take his claims of disgust at race-mixing in Notes on the State of Virginia at face value, but Peterson doesn’t say that’s the reason.

More generally, Peterson examines how Jefferson was appealed to by Democrats and Republicans both, including how his populism/states’ rights positions were used in the lead-up to the Civil War and as a justification for the New Deal. Given Jefferson’s focus on limited government, this last required a change in levels of generality: Jefferson was for maximizing individual freedom, and, given the change in economic realities and the increased power of private entities to constrain freedom, a more active government was required to do what a limited government in the past did for the people. The overall ideal, not the principles, of Jefferson were all that survived by the time Roosevelt christened his monument: it was the “disintegration” of the Jeffersonian philosophy of government that heralded his canonization. Ultimately, Jefferson’s eloquence on the ideals of freedom and Americans’ desire for a tradition to appeal to sustained him in myth, memory, and legend. show less

Both history and biography, Merrill Peterson provides a comprehensive narrative of the entwined careers of three of the greatest American statesmen of the first half of the nineteenth century. The book spans history from the War of 1812 to the Missouri Compromise of 1850 and the prelude to the Civil War. This is an excellent introduction to three of the most influential Americans who were close to but never in the seat of the Presidency.