Rise To Rebellion: A Novel of the American Revolution

When the narrative opens, Franklin is already a transatlantic celebrity, honored in both the colonies and Europe for his wit, knowledge, and eccentric lifestyle. Like Adams, Franklin sees the conflict between the colonies and England as resolvable, although his naivete comes from his own Anglophilia. He loves the life and culture of London, he has formed strong friendships with government officials (as well as his landlady, Mrs. Stevenson), and, like the king himself, he is too far removed from the daily hardships of Bostonians to understand the righteous anger of men like Sam Adams. When relations with the colonies sour, however, Franklin becomes a convenient target, a symbol of the American rabble too uncivilized for self-governance. When he is verbally assaulted for his role in the Hutchinson letter scandal—coupled with his shock at the state of Irish peasants—his sympathies shift. Franklin sits astride both sides of the debate. Understanding the British perspective gives him a certain authority to make the colonial case to Parliament, but when his reasoned appeals go unheard, he finally realizes England doesn’t welcome him any longer.

Franklin’s role in American independence is largely that of elder statesman. He offers advice when welcomed, he pops in on meetings of the Philadelphia Assembly, and he—along with Adams—acts as Jefferson’s editor for the Declaration of Independence. Most of the founders are young, passionate, and energetic. Franklin is the oldest, suggesting that any movement for radical change needs both the vigor of youth and the wisdom of experience.

John Adams’s cousin, Sam, is the firebrand, radical voice for independence whose speeches inflame the crowds and move them to action. He is the colonial community organizer—leading protests, railing against the British Empire, and acting as a thorn in the side of his cousin John who strives to remain moderate. Sam sees injustice and focuses collective attention on it. He is tireless in his pursuit of overthrowing British oppression, constantly speaking out even when he fears the citizens are losing interest. He is, however, impatient, chafing at the bit for any inciting incident that will push the colonies to finally act. He nurtures that spirit of rebellion when and where he finds it, but for years, the spirit waxes and wanes. His role is vital in pushing the king and Parliament into ever-more restrictive measures, maintaining the colonies’ disgruntled voice across the Atlantic. When the king dissolves the Massachusetts Assembly, Sam has the spark he needs, and the colonies are finally ready to take up arms.

Ironically, once the fighting starts, Sam becomes more patient, more reserved, tempering the impatience of his cousin, John. He is a man who understands his role—to stoke the fire and then to step back and let others control the flames. In the Afterword, Shaara notes that, after the war, Sam finds himself bored and restless with the tedium of daily governance. He operates the family brewery and serves as John Hancock’s lieutenant governor before serving a single term as governor himself. Without a cause to fight for, his passion flags. However, without his relentless agitation and zeal for social justice, the initial spark of revolution may have died.

Washington, the “father of the country,” the heroic general leading colonial troops against a superior foe, is a mere colonel in the Virginia militia when he is elected delegate to the Continental Congress. Contrary to popular myth, Washington is not the naturally confident leader he is often portrayed as. When Adams suggests the congress appoint him commander of the armed forces, he is reluctant. He confides to the congress, “I feel great distress […] that my abilities and military experience may not be equal to the extensive and important trust” (305). He accepts the position out of dedication to the cause and brings energy and strategic insight to the job. He has keen sense of what this ragtag collection of armed civilians needs to become a collective force. He expertly navigates the democratic ethic that runs through these militia, as soldiers want a voice in deciding who will lead them. He is savvy enough to surround himself with smart and diverse subordinates, and he is not so ego-driven that he refuses to entertain criticism. Washington’s self-doubt may also be one of his strengths—he takes nothing for granted and does not underestimate the enemy.

The post-war Washington has been enshrined in myth and history texts. The text fills in the early years, and what emerges is a portrait of a man who achieves greatness despite his own self-doubt.

The commander of British forces in the colonies, Gage is tasked with the supremely difficult mission of squashing the voices of rebellion. His hands, however, are tied by his dependence on direct orders from London before he can act. He knows what he needs to accomplish his mission, but the ministry is too torn by political division to provide him with the necessary resources. Gage vacillates between judiciousness and aggression, and he is a man who tries to be fair in the face of impossible circumstances but feels torn between his own sense of ethics and his military imperative. Historians regard Gage as a “competent military commander and an otherwise decent man” (483) who finds himself in an untenable position. Gage’s mistakes are easy to foresee, but in the moment, Gage’s actions make sense given the circumstances and the political restrictions he faces.

One of the forgotten founders of the Republic and an integral member of the Sons of Liberty alongside Sam Adams, Warren is instrumental in the organization of the protest movement. While Sam Adams is the public voice and face of the rebellion, Warren works behind the scenes, although he is well-known at public meetings in Boston. A surgeon, Warren may seem ill-equipped for the role of rebel leader, but so too are so many in the movement—merchants and farmers, men who have never seen battle yet are willing to pick up a musket for the cause. Warren proves his mettle when he fights alongside the militia at Breed’s Hill. He also organizes Paul Revere’s famous midnight ride to warn Lexington and Concord that the British are coming. He is killed in the third British assault on Breed’s Hill. Warren epitomizes the rebellious colonial spirit, a person thrust into a role they would not have chosen for themselves. However, once tasked with such burdens, they find they are equal to the task.

John Adams’s wife, Abigail, is the female voice of the narrative. When Adams spends long hours in Boston or in Philadelphia at the Continental Congress, Abigail takes care of the business of the farm as well as raising their children. She takes in boarders to bolster the family finances, she hires labor to work the farm, and she acts as a voice of conscience for her husband. When Adams doubts his own abilities, she reminds him of his astute legal mind and his worthy accomplishments. When he argues that only male landowners should have a voice in government, she responds sarcastically, “Well, being that a man is doing so much thinking on the subject, I’m sure that only the best and most wise solutions will follow” (401). She shoulders her burdens—running the farm, raising a family, coping with a dysentery epidemic, alone—largely without complaint, but when the burdens grow too heavy, she makes her dissatisfaction known. The relationship between Adams and Abigail is open, honest, sometimes fraught, but always sustained by a deep love. It can be argued that several forces act upon Adams to shape his views and make him the insightful leader he became. One is certainly his cousin Sam, but that radical influence is tempered by the ethical voice of Abigail.

Royal governor of Massachusetts, Hutchinson is the quintessential loyalist. A colonist appointed to carry out the king’s policies, he is the voice of conservatives across the colonies who believe the colonists owe fealty to the king, are still subjects of the crown, and cannot possibly govern themselves without the protection of the army and the guidance of Parliament. Like Gage, he sits astride two conflicting worlds: He is more heavy-handed than his predecessor but not strong enough to quell the protests. He sees men like Sam Adams as the enemy, and his allegiance is always to the king. Hutchinson, like John Dickinson, is emblematic of the schism between the radical and loyalist factions. While desire for independence eventually wins, conservative voices cling stubbornly to the debate for years. As the narrative implies, change is hard, especially for entrenched elites who owe their livelihoods to the status quo; but aside from concerns of self-interest, independence signals change on many other levels: political, military, and economic. The colonies are on the brink of a radical experiment, and even the least educated can sense the importance of it. Hutchinson is not psychologically predisposed to radical change, and he has the power to throw up roadblocks at every turn.