The Diplomatic Correspondence of the American Revolution, Vol. 06 — Context and Discussion

Adams's Public Strategy vs. Secret Diplomacy

Adams repeatedly justifies his decision to print a memorial and make a public proposition, explaining that the nature of the Dutch government made it "indispensably necessary." He recalls that De Witt and Temple once made a treaty in five days, but De Witt "risked his head by it, upon the pardon and confirmation of the Regencies." The present case, Adams argues, is different: M. Van Bleiswick would not dare take a single step without previous orders. This emphasis on public deliberation contrasts sharply with the secret ciphers Adams struggles to decode—he admits he is "utterly unable to comprehend the sense of the passages in cypher" and can make nothing of them. The tension between open political maneuvering and encoded communication runs through these letters, highlighting the dual nature of Adams's mission.

The Dutch Republic's Internal Divisions

Adams portrays a republic paralyzed by faction. He writes that "one half the Republic nearly declares every day very indecently against France, the other against England; but neither one nor the other declares against America." The English party gains advantage from Spain's delay, and the cabinet's "most earnest wish" has been to induce the nation to furnish ships and troops to England under treaty obligations. Amsterdam, led by Burgomaster Temmink and Pensionary Van Berckel, distinguishes itself by resisting this pressure. When Laurens's papers were discovered, Sir Joseph Yorke "thundered with his memorials" against Amsterdam, and the nation was seized with amazement. Adams's letters capture a moment when Dutch neutrality is crumbling, but the path to alliance remains uncertain.

Economic and Naval Dimensions of the Mission

Adams's correspondence frequently touches on commerce and naval power. He reports that the English capture of St. Eustatia broke up a trade in British manufactures to North America, and notes that the property seized there was principally English. He also encloses a convention concerning recaptures between France and Holland, and discusses the East India Company's petition for convoy and defense. The Dutch naval force is described as inactive, while Adams argues that "the United States of America must save this Republic from ruin"—the only power externally respected by all parties. These economic and military observations ground Adams's diplomatic calculations in material realities, showing how trade routes and naval strength shaped the negotiations for recognition.

The Burden of Waiting and the Role of Patience

Throughout the excerpts, Adams counsels patience even as he chafes at delay. He writes, "We must wait, however, with patience. After oscillating a little longer, and grasping at peace, finding it unattainable, I think they will seek an alliance with America." A visit from a personage in Friesland promises an answer in three weeks. Yet Adams also expresses frustration: Spain's delay is "fatal to our affairs," and the constant cry is "why is Spain silent?" He praises the American minister in Spain as "equal to any service," which makes him regret the delay all the more. This tension between hope and impatience gives the letters a personal urgency beneath their formal diplomatic language.

Readers approaching this volume should attend to the interplay between Adams's public arguments and the private frustrations evident in his asides about ciphers and delays. The letters are not merely reports but strategic documents, shaped by Adams's understanding of Dutch political culture. Sparks's editorial arrangement preserves the sequence of dispatches, allowing the reader to trace how Adams's assessments evolve over the months. For those interested in the mechanics of early American diplomacy, this volume offers a granular view of one envoy's efforts to navigate a complex foreign court.

There’s a tiredness in John Adams’s Amsterdam letters, the weary patience of waiting for recognition. I find the same quiet persistence in The Civil War — Reading Notes, where men also wrote and waited, hoping their words might outlast the silence. Both books feel like old friends, holding their breath for history.