Observations on the New Constitution, and on the Federal and State Conventions, Part V: Anti-Federalism

In spite of how unusual Mercy Otis Warren was, and is, being a woman who actively participated in the public literary sphere during the era of the American Founding, one of the most striking elements of her work is how similar it appears to that of her contemporaries. Hers is not recognizably a woman`s perspective; there is no talk of women`s rights, women`s suffrage, marriage reform, or any of the issues usually associated with the early stirrings of feminism in the late 18^th and early 19^th centuries. Possibly this was simply the natural consequence of choosing to conceal to gender behind a raft of pseudonyms. Then again, perhaps the issues noted above, or those connected to them, were simply not of interest to Mercy Otis Warren. If her education, political activism, and literary style are any indication, she seemed most interested in the larger trends of Western history and philosophy and how they connected to the American context than how the rights possessed by one gender compared to those of another. It seems rather unlikely that she, an intelligent, articulate, and well-read individual, had nothing at all to say about the rights of women in American during a time when the air seemed always filled with talk of rights. Whatever her opinion might have been, however, Observations gives no indication.

What it does provide evidence for are the strong commonalities between the rhetorical refrains deployed by Warren in her critique of the proposed constitution and those made use of by her various Anti-Federalist colleagues. This is in spite of the fact that, unlike the Federalist Papers written in support of the proposed constitution by Alexander Hamilton, James Madison, and John Jay, the Anti-Federalist Papers were produced by a large and disparate group of statesmen, merchants, and private citizens without any kind of coordinating effort. Some of the resulting essays were intended as direct replies to specific calls to support the new federal charter – rebuttals, after a fashion – while others approached the debate over ratification and the resultant calling of state conventions for that purpose in a more general, philosophical, or ethical sense. In spite of the lack of cooperation between the Anti-Federalist authors, however, much of the rhetoric they deployed is strikingly similar, and can quite easily be grouped into a series of general themes. Observations dips into these themes on numerous occasions, thus solidifying the connection between Warren and the larger Anti-Federalist effort and further establishing her bona fides as every bit the equal of her male counterparts. She used some of the same vocabulary, put forward many of the same ideas, and seemed to argue from the same basic philosophical position as the other Anti-Federalists.

Examples of the aforementioned common themes abound upon a fairly brief examination of the relevant Anti-Federalist documents. The first theme to be examined herein, perhaps best referred to as the “noble sacrifice argument,” held that the (as of 1787-1788) recently concluded Revolutionary War (1775-1783), while victorious, had exacted an enormous cost in American blood and American capital. In all some 50,000 Americans had died, between military and civilian fatalities from all causes, and the conflict cost the fledgling United States, between the individual states and the Continental Congress, $151 million. In light of this far from insignificant sacrifice, it’s understandable that many Americans in the 1780s were very concerned with preserving the rewards their collective suffering had bought. The Anti-Federalists accordingly seemed particularly concerned, if not outright disgusted, by the idea that anyone who had lost a brother, son, father, or friend, or who had suffered the economic consequences of eight years of war would deign to relinquish their hard-won liberty in exchange for promises of security and stability under a strong and coercive new federal government.

Warren’s Observations is rife with rhetorical variations on this theme. In section one, for instance, she described her fellow Americans as, “A people who had made the most costly sacrifices in the cause of liberty,–who have braved the power of Britain, weathered the convulsions of war, and waded thro’ the blood of friends and foes to establish their independence and to support the freedom of the human mind [.]” This is admittedly a rather dramatic assessment, and an oversimplification of why certain segments of the American population took up arms against Great Britain (for reasons economic, political, philosophical, personal, religious, etc.). That being said, the freshness of the war in popular memory doubtless made for a useful rhetorical device, particularly when authors and commentators like Warren made a point of emphasizing its more visceral aspects. Further on in section one she accordingly described her fellow countrymen again as a people, “Whose fields have been so recently crimsoned to repel the potent arm of a foreign Monarch [.]” The image of verdant fields, an almost stereotypical symbol of American wilderness, fertility, and innocence, stained deepest red by the blood of “friends and foes” is an undeniably powerful one, and no doubt appealed to the many Americans who still felt aggrieved by the suffering they had been made to endure but scant years prior. Warren further romanticized this suffering, while still stressing a very vital, bodily sense of loss, when she stated shortly thereafter that, “On these shores freedom has planted her standard, diped [sic] in the purple tide that flowed from the veins of her martyred heroes [.]” Thus were combined, in a symbolic sense, the loss of such quantities of blood as to form a “purple tide,” the prized standard of freedom, and the deeds of America’s “martyred heroes.”

Warren later revisited the “noble sacrifice” theme in two instances in section eighteen of Observations, both times with a somewhat altered emphasis. First, she attempted to answer what she no doubt supposed would be a likely criticism of citing the cost of the Revolutionary War as reason enough to reject any proposals that might circumscribe or threaten the liberty of the average American. “After the severe conflicts this country has suffered,” she wrote, “it is presumed that they are disposed to make every reasonable sacrifice before the altar of peace.” This admission was perhaps intended by Warren as an attempt to make up for or counter the glorification of America’s recent casualties she had previously engaged in. Americans, many of the Founders asserted before and after the Revolutionary War, were not a confrontational people; they did not seek out a confrontation with Britain, and did not hold with those who cherished conflict for its own sake. Warren seemed to agree with this assessment, but offered a further qualification that likely intended to place America’s recent martial experiences in the proper context. It was important, she asserted, to remember that, “The struggles [Americans] have recently made,” where entered into, “for the security of their civil right [.]” It was not for glory, honor, or public praise that so much life was lost, but for the protection of certain fundamental rights.

As of the 1780s, such a casus belli was near unheard of in annals of human history; people fought for territory, they fought to maintain a balance of power or to enforce a marriage contract, but very rarely to preserve something so novel and ephemeral as their supposed civil rights. Though the actual reasons why so many American fought and died were (again) somewhat more complicated, their theoretical dedication to a piece of abstract ideology like natural rights may indeed have rendered their recent loss of life and limb somewhat exceptional. With this in mind, Warren asserted a degree of disbelief that any among the supporters of the proposed constitution truly believed that their countrymen could, “be easily lulled into a fatal security, by the declamatory effusions of gentlemen who […] would persuade them there is no danger to be apprehended, from vesting discretionary powers in the hands of man, which he may, or may not abuse.” The people of the United States had only a handful of years prior engaged in a long and bloody conflict based at least in part upon the notion that men could not be trusted with “discretionary power” without first declaring and firmly securing the rights of the individual. Thus, the experience of the Revolutionary War had made Americans very sensitive of their liberty because, in addition to the effort having exacted a high personal cost, its fundamental purpose (in theory) had been said liberty’s protection.

In the following paragraph of section eighteen, Warren appeared to combine the philosophical and visceral qualities she brought to the “noble sacrifice” theme. Her fellow Americans, she admitted, had indeed developed an acute sense of the value of their liberties, and would doubtless have guarded them well against further foreign intrusions on the order of that which they had so recently repelled. This vigilance, however, did not seem to extend to domestic threats – “native usurpation” – like that which Warren and the other Anti-Federalist perceived in the proposed constitution and its various supporters. For this reason she felt the need to at least attempt to rouse her fellow citizens to the dangers they were likely to expose themselves to by unthinkingly approving a new federal charter without thoroughly considering its various implications.

Warren’s argument is well-stated, and not without merit. Of greater interest, however, is the manner in which she described the rights that her countrymen seemed all too ready to leave unguarded. They were, she wrote, “The liberties which America has claimed, which reason has justified, and which have been so gloriously defended by the swords of the brave [.]” Herein Warren acknowledged both the philosophical importance of the recent conflict with Britain – American claims to liberty had been justified by reason – as well as the glory and heroism inherent in the accompanying sacrifice. This theoretically permitted her to rouse the emotions of her audience at the same time she appealed to their rationality and their moral sensibilities. Warren then dovetailed this dual appeal into an acknowledgement of America’s (somewhat mythologized) past. “The banners of freedom were erected in the wilds of America by our ancestors,” she wrote, and, “They have since been rescued from the invading hand of foreign power, by the valor and blood of their posterity.” This characterization further broadened the emotional and philosophical significance of the Revolutionary War; not only did it represent a tremendous, but also heroic, sacrifice of men and resources that was fully justified by logic and reason, but it also helped fulfill the dreams of the various colonial founders by finally securing their hoped-for liberty at the hands of their own descendants. This combined appeal to the sense of valor, reason, commemoration, and continuity of her fellow Americans represents the culmination of Warren’s variation on the “noble sacrifice” theme, skillfully deployed and powerfully articulated.    

As distinct as her characterization of the significance of recent American losses was, Warren was far from alone among her fellow Anti-Federalists in attempting to tap into 18^th-century Americans’ understanding of the sacrifices they had all so lately made. As aforementioned, there were many common themes the Anti-Federalist essayists shared across their various efforts. Indeed, the “noble sacrifice” that Warren so effectively described in Observations seemed a particular favorite. Though an exhaustive list of relevant passages would seem both unnecessary and burdensome, a few choice examples are perhaps called for.

Anti-Federalist No. 7, by the still-anonymous Philanthropos, scolded supporters of the proposed constitution for so willingly abandoning, “That liberty which has lately cost so much blood and treasure, together with anxious days and sleepless nights.” Anti-Federalist No. 8, by the also-anonymous Federal Republican, followed suit when it asserted that Americans were being asked, by approving the new federal charter, to, “surrender of those rights, for which the blood of your fellow citizens has been shed in vain.” Anti-Federalist No. 13, signed “A Farmer,” mentioned the expense of the Revolution while advocating for the need of a bill of rights. “Secure to yourselves and your posterity the jewel Liberty,” it cautioned, “Which has cost you so much blood and treasure [.]” Pennsylvania essayist Samuel Bryan, writing under the name Centinel, provided an eloquent and visceral commentary in the “noble sacrifice” theme in Anti-Federalist No. 21. Though lengthy, it bears repeating here in full. “After so recent a triumph over British despots,” Bryan wrote,

After such torrents of blood and treasure have been spent, after involving ourselves in the distresses of an arduous war, and incurring such a debt, for the express purpose of asserting the rights of humanity, it is truly astonishing that a set of men among ourselves should have had the effrontery to attempt the destruction of our liberties.

“Blood and treasure,” which incidentally also made an appearance in Thomas Paine’s pro-independence pamphlet Common Sense, was evidently a common phrase among the Anti-Federalists, meant to encapsulate all the personal and material losses the American people endured as a result of the Revolutionary War. It appeared again in Anti-Federalist No. 40, this time from the pen of the self-professed “Farmer and a Planter.” “Their aim,” it read, referring to the supporters of the proposed constitution, “Is now to destroy that liberty which you set up as a reward for the blood and treasure you expended in the pursuit of and establishment of it.” This seems a rather tame characterization, compared to Bryan’s “torrents of blood” and Warren’s crimsoned fields and purple tides. Anti-Federalist No. 60, from the pen of future Maryland governor John F. Mercer, managed to combine the well-worn phrase with the almost gleeful appeal to viscera. “When we turn our eyes back,” he wrote, “To the zones of blood and desolation which we have waded through to separate from Great Britain, we behold with manly indignation that our blood and treasure have been wasted to establish a government in which the interest of the few is preferred to the rights of the many.” In this single phrase there are “zones of blood and desolation” fit to wade through, as well as an accounting of the wasted “blood and treasure” that the nascent United States could ill-afford to part with. 

If this meagre sampling is any indication, Mercy Otis Warren was in good company among her Anti-Federalist colleagues. Like they had in their own written efforts, she attempted in Observations to utilize the memory of blood shed and money spent as a rhetorical device. She appealed to her fellow Americans’ sense of loss, frustration, and anger, as well as their instinct to commemorate the nobler goals of the Revolutionary War and the cherished liberties for which it had (presumably) been fought. Like Philanthropos or the Federal Republican she at times framed her appeal in the context of the American rights and liberties, while in other cases she indulged, like Samuel Bryan or John F. Mercer, in references to the physical toll the recent conflict with Britain exacted. Exploitative though some of the more grisly allusions may now seem, however, the sincerity of Warren and her compatriots ought not to be doubted. The men behind the bulk of the Anti-Federalist Papers had been trained in the use of rhetoric; they understood the various components of debate, how to shape a discussion, how to elicit the desired response from an audience. Doubtless the memory of those lost in the recent war affected them, and this they channelled into their arguments in opposition to the proposed constitution precisely because they knew it would affect their audience as well. Though not the recipient of a formal education herself, Mercy Otis Warren took hold of the same ideas, made use of the same sort of rhetoric, and sought to elicit the same response from her fellow Americans as did her male Anti-Federalist counterparts.