Charles Carroll, the Catholic Founder: An Interview with Dr. Bradley J. Birzer,
author of "American Cicero" | Ignatius Insight | June 3, 2010
Charles Carroll, the Catholic Founder: An Interview with Dr. Bradley J. Birzer, author of American Cicero:
The Life of Charles Carroll | Ignatius Insight | June 3, 2010
Dr. Bradley J. Birzer is
Assistant Professor of History at Hillsdale College, and a Senior Fellow with
the Center for the American Idea in Houston. He is the author of Sanctifying
the World: The Augustinian Life and Mind of Christopher Dawson (Christendom Press) and J.R.R. Tolkien's Sanctifying Myth (ISI). He recently corresponded with Carl E. Olson,
editor of Ignatius Insight, about his new book, American Cicero: The Life
of Charles Carroll, published by Intercollegiate Studies Institute.
Ignatius Insight: Why a
book about Charles Carroll? How did it come about?
Dr. Birzer: Thank you very
much, Carl, for wanting to talk about Charles Carroll of Carrollton and American
Cicero. Please know — as I
hope and assume is obvious — I always thoroughly enjoy working with you
and talking to you. Thanks, too, to Mark Brumley and Ignatius for providing
this forum as well as for all the excellent media promoting orthodox
Catholicism. The influence of Ignatius Press is clearly being felt in the
reforms in the Church over the last few decades.
I'm especially happy to
talk about Charles Carroll of Carrollton, a man I have come to admire deeply in
my study of him, the American Roman Catholic Church, and the American founding.
Though I've studied the
American founding throughout the entirety of my adult life, I'd never had the
chance (or, at least, I'd never taken the time) to study much about Carroll.
As an undergraduate at
Notre Dame, I studied the American founding as well as American expansion
(frontier and empire) with Walter Nugent and Greg Dowd (now at the University
As a graduate student, I
studied with David Edmunds (now at UT-Dallas) and Bernhard Sheehan at Indiana
University. While at IU, I chose the American founding (specifically the
ideas--republicanism/whiggery, liberalism, and Protestantism--that went into
shaping the minds of the founders) as one of my four fields of concentration
In the late 1990s, I had
the chance to listen to a number of lectures by Donald Lutz in Houston through
Winston Elliott's group, the Center for the American Idea. Lutz, armed with an
eye patch and a spectacular intellect, really provided me with a strong,
non-ideological grounding in the Founding. Though a Georgetown man, Lutz
taught me, significantly, that one could never consider the American founding
"one thing." Instead, it must be understood as an extremely complex era,
1763-1793, with fully developed human persons of like minds and common
educational backgrounds arguing over the need for reform and purification of
the English commonwealth.
In some instances, Lutz
taught me, the founders acted as historians. In others, as warriors; and,
still in others, as political philosophers. To narrow the founding to one
philosopher or, say, six important founders--maybe, Washington, Jefferson,
Franklin, Madison, Hamilton, and Wilson--with the rest as "pious dupes" was a
mistake of monumental proportions. While certain men stood above the rest, all
contributed, even if through disagreement and strife. When it comes to the
founding and our modern and post-modern claims upon it, Lutz provides a needed
dose of sanity.
Each of these men--Nugent,
Dowd, Edmunds, Sheehan, and Lutz--shaped my own views profoundly.
Winston Elliott (mentioned
above), by the way, has fundamentally influenced my ideas as well. Of course,
with the Center for the American Idea, he's not only creating immense networks
of scholars (where I met Gleaves Whitney, Bruce Frohnen, and Don Lutz, for
example) but he's also directly transmitting the ideas of the founding to
teachers and professors, thus connecting the generations. Moreover, Elliott
possesses not only a vast library of works on and about the founding, but,
equally impressive and uncannily supernatural, he's also a walking, living,
breathing bibliography of the period. I doubt if I know any one as well versed
in the literature of the founding period as is Winston.
This is all a rather long
way to explain that prior to the Carroll project, I had never studied
Catholicism and its presence or absence in the American founding directly. I
had studied the 1774 Quebec Act, perhaps, as J.C.D. Clark has argued, the
catalyst for war, and the blatant anti-Catholicism of the American colonials.
Prior to starting this project in 2005, I think I vaguely knew Carroll was
Roman Catholic, but I was more fascinated with his self-identification, "of
Carrollton," and his immense fortune, supposedly the largest in the colonies at
the time of the founding. Sadly, prior to my study of Carroll, I also probably
confused Charles with his cousin, Jacky (John), the first archbishop in the
Anyway, to make a very
long story somewhat short, I fell rather easily into conversation with the
intellectually and charismatically intimidating Lt. General Josiah Bunting at a
conference held by the Hauenstein Center for Presidential Studies in the fall
of 2005. My good friend, Gleaves Whitney, president of the Hauenstein Center,
had asked me to speak on the literary and journalistic reaction to President
Woodrow Wilson's progressive war policies. When Lt. General Bunting told me he
was editing a series on the "forgotten founders," we discussed what a shame it
was that Americans, by and large, remembered the names of several founders but
had almost completely forgotten the vast majority of them. As we walked into a
conference room, ready to begin the next session, Lt. General Bunting
graciously invited me to write the Carroll volume. I doubt many people say
"no" to Bunting, and I accepted immediately. As I told him jokingly, "I have a
feeling I would probably follow you into Hell and back. . . 'the back,' by the
way, is really important." Anyway, I accepted immediately, not just because
Bunting has a powerful charisma about him, but because I really wanted to write
I had just completed my
intellectual biography of the historian and English man of letters, Christopher
Dawson, and I was eager to continue pursuing themes of Christian Humanism. As
it turns out, Father Thomas O'Brien Hanley, S.J., had labeled Carroll as
nothing less than this than a Christian Humanist in his two-volume biography
published a few decades ago. So, what better thing could I do: a book about
Christian Humanism and the American founding. Too good to be true, frankly.
And, yet, there it was.
I have used some form of
"sanctifying" in my previous books: Sanctifying Myth and Sanctifying the World. My friend, John Miller of National Review--and now a well known novelist as well as a
journalist in great demand--said: "Brad, you have to leave "sanctifying" out of
the title of your next book. What could I have called it: "Sanctifying the
Revolution: Charles Carroll and the American Founding"?
So, I left out
And, just briefly, for
those readers who were like me before I started this project in the fall of
2005--Charles Carroll of Carrollton, the only son of Charles Carroll of
Annapolis and a devout Roman Catholic, was born in 1737 and died in November
1832. He was the last of the signers of the Declaration of Independence to
die, outliving Jefferson and Adams by over six years. A driving force behind
Maryland's move toward independence, Carroll helped shape the fundamental
doctrines of rights and government in Maryland. His creation of the Maryland
Senate, as admitted in Madison's note on the Constitutional Convention and in Federalist
63, directly inspired the
creation of the U.S. Senate. A moderate Federalist, he defended the passage of
the U.S. Constitution of 1787 and served as a U.S. Senator for the first
several years of the Senate's existence. With the so-called "Revolution of
1800" and Jefferson's ascendence to the presidency, Carroll retired from all
active politics but continued to serve as a cultural and political critic
during the period of the early republic.
Ignatius Insight: In
what ways was Charles Carroll an "American Cicero"?
Dr. Birzer: Beginning sometime in his teenage years, Carroll
fell in the love with the life, the ideas, and the writings of Cicero. From
that point until his death in 1832, Carroll considered Cicero one of his
closest friends and, as he put it, a constant companion in conversation. After
the teachings of Christ and the Bible, he said toward the end of his life, give
me the works of Cicero. Again, as Father Hanley has argued, Carroll truly was
a Christian Humanist, blending the Judeo-Christian with the Greco-Roman
traditions of the West quite nicely in his person as well as in his
The founders, overall,
greatly respected Cicero. Not only had he served as the last real bulwark
against the encroachment of tyranny and empire in ancient Rome, but he
represented the best a republic had to offer, then or now. Probably Carl J.
Richard, author of The Founders and the Classics and Greeks and Romans Bearing Gifts, has presented the most extensive and best work
on this. Forrest McDonald, too, has done yeoman's work. Classicists Christian
Kopff and Bruce Thornton have published excellent studies on this as well.
In many ways, Carroll
resembled Cicero not at all. Certainly, no leader ever hunted down Carroll, as
Marc Antony did to the great Roman senator. And, while Carroll could speak
with force, dignity, and clarity, his oratorical skills could in no way match
But, like Cicero--and,
indeed, inspired in large part by the example and words of Cicero--Carroll
always put the needs of the res publica ahead of his own personal self interest. In fact, I couldn't find
an instance in Carroll's public life where he did not always put the good of
the republic ahead of his own good. He served as a model leader.
When I first sent the
manuscript to ISI, I had wanted to name the book, "The Last of the Romans: The
Life of Charles Carroll." The title, "Last of the Romans" was given to Carroll
at his death. It's fitting. Jed Donahue, ISI's new editor, rightfully thought
Carroll too obscure a figure to give such a title to his biography; an audience
might justly believe the book to be about ancient history. My close friend and
colleague, Dr. Mark Kalthoff, came up with the clever title "Papist Patriot."
While Kalthoff's title is certainly catchy and edgy, I didn't want to have to
explain to Catholic audiences why I was using a term usually associated with an
In the end, American Cicero
seemed fair and just, as it tied the founding to the ancient world without
forgetting the medieval or the early modern worlds. As another close friend of
mine, Thomas More and Shakespeare scholar, Stephen Smith, has argued in private
conversation, "Cicero serves as a key to true reform and progress in the
western world." And, of course, Smith is right. We can't even imagine St.
Augustine, Petrarch, or Thomas More without the Ciceronian element. The same
should be true of the American founding. To my mind, among the American founders,
Charles Carroll best continued the Ciceronian legacy.
Ignatius Insight: In
the Introduction, you describe Carroll as "an exemplar of Catholic and
republican virtue." What are some examples of each?
Dr. Birzer: Just as figures (some mythical, some historical,
most a combination of both) such as Cincinatus and Cicero served as exemplars
for the American founders, so Carroll should serve as an exemplar for us.
Carroll devoted his considerable resources and gifts to the common good.
We live, however, in an
age of cynicism and scandal. Such men as Washington or Carroll seem like
cardboard figures to us, mostly because we can no longer imagine what real
service and sacrifice means, especially to something so "old fashioned" as the
republic. All we have to do is give a sidelong glance toward Washington or
Wall Street to see where our society as "progressed": deals, corruption, and
the radical pursuit of self-interest infect, inundate, and adulterate almost
every aspect of our institutions and so-called leadership. A figure who stands
for right seems the fool, the buffoon, or the flighty romantic, merely
positioned to be stepped upon or used.
And, of course, this isn't
true for everyone in what remains of our constitutional republic. Just this
past weekend, I learned that 13 of our roughly 280 graduates of the Hillsdale
Class of 2010 have joined the Marines. At least one graduate is heading off to
a Catholic monastery; another is off to Orthodox seminary to become a priest.
So, a few good men and women remain.
Sadly, though, these
Hillsdale students serve as exceptions in a larger culture that puts security
and material comfort above eternal certainties.
Throughout his public
career, Carroll defended the soul and nature of the republic. Like many of the
founders, he believed that no people could enjoy the blessings of liberty
without the virtue necessary to maintain it. If a man cannot order himself,
how can we expect him to order his community?
For Carroll, republican
virtue would have flowed neatly into a Catholic understanding of the world.
Virtue--our English equivalent of "virtu" or "manly power"--animates a person
as well as a society. During the revolution, Carroll used much of his own
wealth to maintain armies as well as governments. Never did he expect to be
paid back for any of this. As he saw it, God placed him in that time and that
place. His material wealth, a blessing, could only be sanctified by using it
for God's greater glory. In the providence of history, Carroll believed, the
American revolution served not only to give an example of religious liberty to
the world, but also a representation and manifestation of God's desire for man
to reform, to purify, and to bring society back to first principles.
Ignatius Insight: How
did Carroll's education in Jesuit schools in Europe shape his political thought
and guide his decisions regarding the American Revolution?
Dr. Birzer: Profoundly. He lived with or near the Jesuits
for most of his childhood, all of his teen years, and as a young adult.
Carroll, with his cousin, John, received a typical Jesuit liberal education,
then known as the "Ratio Studiorum." Over a six-year period, students learned
Greek and Latin, especially "the acquisition of a Ciceronian style." The
education, the Jesuits hoped, would harmonize "the various powers of faculties
of the soul--of memory, imagination, intellect, and will." After earning his
Bachelor of Arts degree, Carroll earned a M.A. in "universal philosophy." With
the M.A. in hand, he studied civil and common law.
Ultimately, he and John
Dickinson were the two most formally educated of all the founders. This is, by
no means, faint praise. One of the most interesting things to me, especially
as a historian, is how much we as an American people have forgotten the
educational climate of the colonial and founding eras. At that time, education
meant "liberal education." Anything else was considered "servile" or training.
Consequently, the founding
generation knew the classical world, inside and out. Perhaps historian and man
of letters Russell Kirk put this best in a number of writings. The patrimony
of four symbolic cities of western civilization—Jerusalem, Athens, Rome,
and London—culminated in a fifth iconographic city, Philadelphia in 1776
and 1787. "The Revolutionary leaders were men of substance—propertied,
educated. They read. And
what they read made it easer for them to become rebels because they did not see
rebels when they looked in the mirror," historian Trevor Colbourn has written.
"They saw transplanted Englishmen with the rights of expatriated men. They
were determined to fight for inherited historic rights and liberties."
Or, to quote Christian
Kopff, quoting the founders themselves--when writing the Declaration of Independence,
Thomas Jefferson (1825) explained that he drew on ancient sources:
was the object of the Declaration of Independence. Not to find out new
principles, or new arguments, never before thought of, not merely to say things
which had never been said before; but to place before mankind the common sense
of the subject, in terms so plain and firm as to command their assent, and to
justify ourselves in the independent stand we are compelled to take. Neither
aiming at originality of principle or sentiment, nor yet copied from any
particular and previous writing, it was intended to be an expression of the
American mind, and to give to that expression the proper tone and spirit called
for by the occasion. All its authority rests then on the harmonizing
sentiments of the day, whether expressed in conversation, in letters, printed
essays, or in elementary books of public right, as Aristotle, Cicero, Locke,
John Adams sounded very
similar to Jefferson, but fifty years (1774) earlier:
are what are called revolution principles. They are the principles of
Aristotle and Plato, of Livy and Cicero, of Sidney, Harrington, and Locke; the
principles of nature and eternal reason.
Unlike the French
revolutionaries of the 1790s or the Russian revolutionaries of 1917, attempting
to create, in the words of Shakespeare, a "brave new world," the American
patriots turned the world right-side up. They desired a republic rooted in
right reason, first principles, and the Natural Law. From the perspective of
the founders, God had written the republican principles of the American
Revolution into nature herself. "We do not by declarations change the nature
of things, or create new truths, but we give existence, or at least establish
in the minds of the people truths and principles which they might never have
thought of, or soon forgot. If a nation means its systems, religious or
political, shall have duration, it ought to recognize the leading principles of
them in the front page of every family book," a leading Anti-Federalist wrote
in the aftermath of the war for Independence.
Again, it is worth noting
how liberally educated the founders were. As Forrest and Ellen McDonald have
written, when a student entered college in the 1750s or 1760s, (usually at age
14 or 15), he would need to prove fluency in Latin and Greek. He would need to
"read and translate from the original Latin into English 'the first three of
[Cicero's] Select Orations and
the first three books of Virgil's Aeneid' and to translate the first ten chapters of the Gospel of John from
Greek into Latin, as well as to be 'expert in arithmetic' and to have a
'blameless moral character.'"
This helps us understand why the classical world held such
sway over the founding generation. They lived and breathed the classical and
Christian worlds in their youth.
Ignatius Insight: What
affect did Carroll's illegitimacy have on him as a man and a leader? What was
the place and influence of the Carroll family as a whole in the Catholic Church
during the late 18th century?
Dr. Birzer: Because of its wealth and reputation, the Carroll
family stood as the most
prominent Catholic family in the colonies. Even after the war, Charles Carroll
maintained his position as leader of lay Catholics in America. His cousin,
John, made archbishop toward the end of the founding period, wrote to Charles
in 1800: "The concerns of our religion in this country are placed especially
under my superintendence; and under God, its chief protection has long been
owing to the influence and preponderance of yourself & your venerable
Father before you."
As Catholics, the Carrolls
had suffered severe disadvantages in colonial society. After the so-called
"Glorious Revolution of 1688," a group of Protestants overthrew the Maryland government,
establishing the Church of England as the only legitimate church of Maryland.
Roman Catholics refusing to submit to the Anglican faith could not, by law,
serve in politics or law, vote, represent themselves in court, worship in
public, or raise the child in a "Catholic fashion." In short, no colony
restricted and persecuted Catholics more than did Maryland, once (prior to
1689) the most tolerant of the English colonies.
Charles's father, Charles
Carroll of Annapolis, had little choice but to send the future signer overseas,
away from Protestant eyes. To have adopted his son legally could have risked
the entire Carroll fortune and estate. As an aristocrat, no matter how
disenfranchised, Charles Carroll of Annapolis had to uphold the honor of the
family, past, present, and future. To endanger the family for an emotional
attachment would have been, to Carroll of Annapolis, dishonorable.
From a great distance,
Charles Carroll of Carrollton learned these lessons, the lessons of a
persecuted minority, and he kept these with him until his death. This helps
explain why Carroll proved extremely tolerant as a political leader, advancing
the cause of religious liberty wherever possible. As he explained in 1829:
"When I signed the Declaration of Independence, I had in view not only our
independence of England but the toleration of all Sects, professing the
Christian Religion, and communicating to them all great rights . . . . Happily
this wise and salutary measure has taken place for eradicating religious feuds
and persecution." When one considers "the proscriptions of the Roman Catholics
in Maryland, you will not be surprised that I had much at heart this grand
design founded on mutual charity, the basis of our holy religion," Carroll
Carroll was aristocratic and republican, and a strong Federalist. What
influence did he have on the creation of the Constitution? What was his opinion
of democracy, and what essential differences would he have seen between
democratic and republican forms of government?
Dr. Birzer: Though elected to the Constitutional Convention
in 1787, Carroll couldn't attend the august gathering in Philadelphia because
of political problems in Maryland. He worried that his absence would encourage
his political opponents to create mischief. So, sadly, Carroll never attended
the convention. Regardless, he defended the adoption of the Constitution in
Maryland, leading the Federalist forces there.
As mentioned previously,
he inspired the creation and actual form of the U.S. Senate through his design
(with state approval, of course) of the Maryland Senate. In Maryland as well
as at the federal level, the Senate would serve as a form of aristocratic check
on the executive as well as on the democracy.
As with many of the
authors of the Constitution, Carroll feared the growth of democracy. Clearly,
the founders incorporated elements of democracy, but they did so in a very
limited way. The only true democratic element of the Constitution came in the
form of the House of Representatives, one half of one branch of government.
The people had no direct say in the election of the president, senators, or the
Supreme Court justices. Citizens could vote only for their one representative,
representing their one small district. If anything, the Constitution did
everything possible to limit the direct influence of the people in any kind of
immediate way. Today, we forget this, as we use the term "democracy" to mean
almost anything good. Or, at least what we think is good. But for the
founding generation, one could readily equate democracy with passion,
irrationality, and mob role. Such distrust of democracy in the western
tradition went back to Plato.
After a particular radical
movement animated by a democratic sentiment emerged in the fall of 1776,
Carroll wrote: "They will be simple Democracies, of all governts. the worst,
and will end as all other Democracies have, in despotism."
While Carroll believed as
many of the other founders did, his anti-democratic language came back to haunt
him in the aftermath of Jefferson's election to the presidency in 1800. As
America became more democratic in spirit, if not in form, Carroll began to look
outmoded and reactionary.
Still, Carroll persevered
in his criticism of the direction of the republic. "It is however I find,
impossible for a man tainted with democratic principles, to possess an elevated
soul and dignified character," he wrote to his son in 1806. "In all their
actions and in all their schemes and thoughts, there is nothing but what is
mean and selfish."
Carroll died in 1832. What role or roles did he play in the first decades of
the fledgling American republic?
Dr. Birzer: Mostly a private citizen after 1800, Carroll
spent much time with his family, his land, and his books. He also, however,
thoroughly enjoyed entertaining and parties at the Carroll estate became
legendary in Maryland and throughout the colonies.
worked hard to end slavery in the United States, mostly through the American
Ignatius Insight: Up
until the Civil War, Carroll was a well-known and beloved American hero. Why
did interest in him fade so quickly in the late 19th century?
Dr. Birzer: Well, for two reasons, I think. A) He was Roman
Catholic and serious about his faith. As America continued to centralize,
democratize, and nationalize, it grew increasingly anti-Catholic. The Catholic
Church became, as it had during the colonial period, the perceived enemy of
American democracy and American freedom--at least in the eyes of Nativists.
John McGreevy, Dean of Arts and Letters of the University of Notre Dame, has
done an especially good job of showing how American nationalism and
centralization needed the scapegoat of Catholicism. The pope and the Vatican
could once again serve as those outside forces hindering true "progress" and
liberty. As a signer of the Declaration of Independence, Carroll,
understandably, became inconvenient for such nativists and his reputation
B) Carroll truly
distrusted democracy. As the democrat spirit raged in the 19th century, as
mentioned earlier, Carroll seemed more and more outmoded, reactionary, and
In the early 1830s, the
brilliant Alexis de Tocqueville interviewed Carroll. His description of
Carroll, I think, helps answer this question:
"This race of men is
disappearing now after having provided America with her greatest spirits . . .
.With them the tradition of cultivated manners is lost; the people becoming
enlightened, attainments spread, and a middling ability becomes common. . . .
The general tone and content of his conversation breathed the spirit of the
English aristocracy, mingled sometimes in a peculiar way with the habits of the
democratic government under which he lived and the glorious memories of the
American Revolution. He ended by saying to us: 'A mere Democracy is but a mob.
The English form of government,' he said to us, 'is the only one suitable for
you; if we tolerate ours, that is because every year we can push our innovators
out West.' The whole way of life and turn of mind of Charles Carroll make him
just like a European gentleman."
After departing from Carroll's estate, de Tocqueville
recorded, "The striking talents, the great characters, are rare. Society is
less brilliant and more prosperous."
Having written this biography and being a historian of the founding of the
United States, what do you believe Charles Carroll would think of the United
States in the year 2010? What observations or advice might he offer on matters
religious and political?
Dr. Birzer: I can't imagine him being happy with much in
2010. As historian Gordon Wood has pointed out in his Radicalism of the
American Revolution, every one of
the signers of the Declaration believed the republic had fallen by the time
each one of them had died. A sobering thought, to be sure. Carroll saw hope
only as long as men kept their virtue. In 1828, he offered the following
advice to a labor group in Baltimore:
observe that republics can exist,
and that the people under that form of government can be happier than under any
other. That the republic created by the Declaration of Independence may
continue to the end of time is my fervent prayer. That protracted existence,
however, will depend on the morality, sobriety and industry of the people."
So, it would be wrong to
conclude that Carroll had no hope for the future. As Carroll fully understood,
one never knows when God would manifest his love and grace in very tangible
ways in the world.
But, to be somewhat
objective--he would be shocked by the prevalent use of the word "democracy";
the direct election of Senators; the powers of the federal government; the
powers of the individual branches of government; the laxity of morals, the high
divorce rates, and the high out of wedlock sexual relations; the dramatic
decline of liberal education and on and on and on. . . .
Really, what founder would
not be horrified by the current state of politics, the economy, the culture,
Of course, Carroll might
also see the various populist movements today, such as the Tea Party, as a sign
of coming reform, purification, and return to first principles.
But, overall, I can't
imagine he would be happy with our year or our century.
Ignatius Insight: If
Carroll is known at all today, it is usually as the lone Catholic who signed
the Declaration of Independence. How do you hope your biography will bring a
greater, deeper appreciation for Carroll's life and thought?
Dr. Birzer: Well, there's certainly nothing wrong with being
known as the lone Catholic who signed the Declaration, but Carroll's life
reveals so much more. First, and perhaps most importantly, Carroll gives us a
model. He stood against the popular will, and he stood for what's right in
terms of what he believed to be eternally true. His life offers us a number of
examples of intelligent piety and heroic fortitude.
As I see it, the best
biographies attempt to get into the very heart and soul of the subject. I
believe the biographer must have a poetic element in his writing and thinking.
If he merely recounts the dates and events and marriages and children, etc., he
has done a great disservice to an unfathomably complex and unrepeatable human life.
This is the real genius of someone like Joseph Pearce, our greatest living
biographer, in my opinion. Pearce dives right into the person, seeing the
world through the eyes of his subject. Scholars sometimes criticize Pearce for
this subjective element, but I find it immensely refreshing and convincing.
This is a rare and precious skill. Russell Kirk did it stunningly with his
biography of his friend, T.S. Eliot, The Age of Eliot. And, I think Robert Utley wrote a captivating
biography of the Sioux leader, Sitting Bull, in his The Lance and the Shield.
While I would never claim
the ability to match the skill of any of these biographers, I strive to model
myself after each of them. Tolkien and Dawson were easier figures--from my
perspective--to understand than Carroll proved to be. Whether my end
conclusions about Tolkien and Dawson were right or wrong, each of these English
academics "made sense" to me. It was only with great difficulty that I broke
into a part of Carroll's life. I still don't think I really understood his
marriage, his relationship with his children, or his considerable business
acumen. I, consequently, left these aspects of his life almost completely out
of American Cicero. Instead,
I focused somewhat exclusively on his intellectual and spiritual life, both of
which I found convincing, cohesive, and inspiring.
Frankly, I would only want
to write a biography of someone with whom I could sympathize. This means, of
course, I could never write (or even attempt to write) a biography of an Adolph
Hitler, a Josef Stalin, or a Margaret Sanger.
Give me a good Catholic
like Tolkien, Dawson, or Carroll any day, and I'll be a happy man.
After all, Carroll asked
in 1826: "Who are deserving of immortality? . . . They who serve God in truth,
and they who have rendered great, essential, and disinterested services and
benefits to their country."
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Out of Virtue, Greatness: Washington as Aristotle's Magnanimous Man | Dr. Jose Yulo
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