The history of the rise, progress, and establishment of the independence of the United States of America, Vol. 1 (of 3) — A Closer Reading

Gordon’s Rhetorical Framing of Historical Truth

Gordon’s preface establishes a moral and philosophical framework for his history. He asserts that history should “show the principles on which states and empires have risen to power” and “point out the fatal effects of intestine divisions and civil wars.” His language is formal and didactic, employing balanced clauses and classical references (e.g., quoting Horace). He positions himself as an impartial judge, yet his choice of words—such as “mercenary disposition,” “false policy,” and “mistaken ideas”—reveals a critical view of political actors. This rhetorical stance is not merely ornamental; it guides how he presents events. For instance, when describing the Boston town meetings, Gordon uses precise verbs like “determine,” “invite,” and “assume” to convey the colonists’ deliberate, organized resistance. His diction emphasizes collective decision-making and legalistic procedures, reinforcing his theme of principled action.

Dialogue as a Window into Colonial Resolve

Gordon incorporates direct speech sparingly but to powerful effect. The most notable example is the speech of Josiah Quincy, Jr., at the Old South Meeting-house. Quincy warns that “shouts and hosannas will terminate the trials of the day” only in “a childish fancy,” and that the colonists must prepare for “the sharpest, the sharpest conflicts.” Gordon’s repetition of “sharpest” mimics Quincy’s emphatic delivery, heightening the urgency. The speech is rendered in a formal, oratorical style, with balanced phrases and rhetorical questions: “Let us consider the issue. Let us look to the end.” By including this verbatim-like account, Gordon gives readers direct access to the colonists’ mindset, showing their awareness of the stakes. He does not editorialize but lets Quincy’s words stand as evidence of the gravity of the moment. This choice reflects Gordon’s method: he uses dialogue to dramatize historical turning points without overt commentary.

Descriptive Detail and the Mechanics of Resistance

Gordon’s descriptions of the Boston Tea Party are notable for their procedural specificity. He records that the committee of correspondence “keep a constant military watch of twenty-five men every night, generally with fire arms, to prevent the tea being privately landed.” He notes the exact wharf (Griffin’s wharf) and the names of ship captains (Bruce and Coffin). The governor’s countermeasures are similarly detailed: he orders “the Active and King Fisher to be fitted for sea” and writes to Colonel Leslie to “suffer no vessel, coasters excepted, to pass the fortress.” Gordon even mentions that “a sufficient number of guns are loaded on this special occasion.” This accumulation of concrete details—times, places, names, and numbers—creates a sense of documentary precision. It also underscores the logistical complexity of the resistance, portraying it not as spontaneous mob action but as a coordinated, almost military operation. Gordon’s descriptive choices thus shape the reader’s understanding of the event as a deliberate act of political defiance.

The Role of the Narrator in Shaping Perspective

Throughout the excerpt, Gordon maintains a third-person omniscient voice, but his narrative stance is not entirely neutral. He frequently uses passive constructions (“the question is put,” “the number assembled is thought to be some thousands”) that distance him from direct judgment while still conveying information. His choice of verbs—such as “intimates” when describing Mr. Rotch’s communication with the governor—implies a layer of interpretation. When Rotch tells the governor that some leaders “wish the ship to go down and be stopped at the castle,” Gordon adds that Rotch fears “the rage of the people.” This psychological detail, though attributed to Rotch, colors the reader’s perception of the tensions between the colonists and their leaders. Gordon also includes the governor’s offer of a letter to the admiral, which Rotch declines, highlighting the delicate balance of power. By weaving such observations into the narrative, Gordon subtly guides the reader’s sympathies without explicit commentary.

Readers approaching Gordon’s first volume should attend to the interplay between his stated commitment to truth and the rhetorical devices he employs. His diction, use of dialogue, and descriptive precision are not merely stylistic choices but tools for constructing a particular historical narrative. By observing how Gordon selects and frames evidence, one can better assess the interpretive lens through which he presents the origins of American independence. This volume rewards careful reading of its language as much as its events.

There’s a particular weight in reading Gordon’s account of the Tea Party—how carefully he chose each word to honor the moment’s gravity. It reminded me of another quiet near-miss in our history, the frontier years just after. I keep returning to The Winning of the West, Volume 4 Louisiana and the Northwest, 1791-1807 — Edition Insights for that same feeling: how much depended on what was almost lost.