Chapter IV: Part 4

[Footnote 54: Dr. Samuel Cooper, well known as a zealous patriot and pastor of the church in Brattle Square. The edifice, at that time esteemed the finest interior in Boston, and yet much admired, had been completed about a year. It has now gone the way of all old structures in Boston. Mr. Adams had become a proprietor and a worshipper at this church.]

[Footnote 55: He held out tolerably well for two years. But the apparent preponderance of British power on the one side, and his sectarian prejudices against the Independents of New England on the other, finally got the better of him, so far as to dictate the appeal to General Washington, in the gloomiest period of the war, which forever forfeited for him all claim to the commendation above bestowed.]

20. JOHN ADAMS.

Philadelphia, 18 September, 1774.

In your last you inquire tenderly after my health, and how we found the people upon our journey, and how we were treated.

I have enjoyed as good health as usual, and much more than I know how to account for, when I consider the extreme heat of the weather and the incessant feasting I have endured ever since I left Boston.

The people in Connecticut, New York, the Jerseys, and Pennsylvania we have found extremely well principled and very well inclined, although some persons in New York and Philadelphia wanted a little animation. Their zeal however, has increased wonderfully since we began our journey.

When the horrid news was brought here of the bombardment of Boston, which made us completely miserable for two days, we saw proofs both of the sympathy and the resolution of the continent.

War! war! war! was the cry, and it was pronounced in a tone which would have done honor to the oratory of a Briton or a Roman.

If it had proved true, you would have heard the thunder of an American Congress.

I have not time nor language to express the hospitality and civility, the studied and expensive respect, with which we have been treated in every step of our progress. If Camden, Chatham, Richmond, and St. Asaph had travelled through the country, they could not have been entertained with greater demonstrations of respect than Cushing, Paine, and the brace of Adamses have been.

The particulars will amuse you when we return.

I confess, the kindness, the affection, the applause, which have been given to me, and especially to our province, have many a time filled my bosom and streamed from my eyes.

My best respects to Colonel Warren and his lady when you write to them. I wish to write to them. Adieu.

21. JOHN ADAMS.

18 September, 1774.

I received your very agreeable letter by Mr. Marston, and have received two others, which gave me much pleasure. I have wrote several letters, but whether they have reached you I know not. There is so much rascality in the management of letters now come in fashion, that I am determined to write nothing of consequence, not even to the friend of my bosom, but by conveyances which I can be sure of. The proceedings of the Congress are all a profound secret as yet, except two votes which were passed yesterday, and ordered to be printed. You will see them from every quarter. These votes were passed in full Congress with perfect unanimity. The esteem, the affection, the admiration for the people of Boston and the Massachusetts which were expressed yesterday, and the fixed determination that they should be supported, were enough to melt a heart of stone. I saw the tears gush into the eyes of the old grave pacific Quakers of Pennsylvania. You cannot conceive, my dear, the hurry of business, visits, ceremonies, which we are obliged to go through.

We have a delicate course to steer between too much activity and too much insensibility in our critical, interested situation. I flatter myself, however, that we shall conduct ourselves in such a manner as to merit the approbation of our country. It has taken us much time to get acquainted with the tempers, views, characters, and designs of persons, and to let them into the circumstances of our province. My dear, do entreat every friend I have to write me. Every line which comes from our friends is greedily inquired after, and our letters have done us vast service. Middlesex and Suffolk have acquired unbounded honor here.

There is no idea of submission here in anybody's head.

Thank my dear Nabby[56] for her letter. Tell her it has given me great spirit. Kiss all my sweet ones for me.

Adieu.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 56: His only daughter.]

22. JOHN ADAMS.

Philadelphia, 20 September, 1774.

I am very well yet. Write to me as often as you can, and send your letters to the office in Boston, or to Mr. Cranch's, whence they will be sent by the first conveyance.

I am anxious to know how you can live without Government. But the experiment must be tried. The evils will not be found so dreadful as you apprehend them. Frugality, my dear, frugality, economy, parsimony, must be our refuge. I hope the ladies are every day diminishing their ornaments, and the gentlemen, too. Let us eat potatoes and drink water; let us wear canvas, and undressed sheepskins, rather than submit to the unrighteous and ignominious domination that is prepared for us.

Tell Brackett I shall make him leave off drinking rum. We can't let him fight yet. My love to my dear ones.

Adieu.

23. ABIGAIL ADAMS.

Boston Garrison, 24 September, 1774.

I have just returned from a visit to my brother, with my father, who carried me there the day before yesterday, and called here in my return, to see this much injured town. I view it with much the same sensations that I should the body of a departed friend--having only put off its present glory for to rise finally to a more happy state. I will not despair, but will believe that, our cause being good, we shall finally prevail. The maxim "In time of peace prepare for war" (if this may be called a time of peace) resounds throughout the country. Next Tuesday they are warned at Braintree, all above fifteen and under sixty, to attend with their arms; and to train once a fortnight from that time is a scheme which lies much at heart with many.

Scott has arrived, and brings news that he expected to find all peace and quietness here, as he left them at home. You will have more particulars than I am able to send you, from much better hands.

There has been in town a conspiracy of the negroes. At present it is kept pretty private. It was discovered by one who endeavored to dissuade them from it. He, being threatened with his life, applied to Justice Quincy for protection. They conducted in this way: got an Irishman to draw up a petition to the Governor, telling him they would fight for him, provided he would arm them and engage to liberate them if he conquered. And it is said that he attended so much to it as to consult Percy upon it; and one Lieutenant Small has been very busy and active. There is but little said, and what steps they will take in consequence of it, I know not. I wish most sincerely there was not a slave in the province. It always appeared a most iniquitous scheme to me--to fight ourselves for what we are daily robbing and plundering from those who have as good a right to freedom as we have. You know my mind upon this subject.

I left all our little ones well, and shall return to them to-night. I hope to hear from you by the return of the bearer of this, and by Revere. I long for the day of your return, yet look upon you as much safer where you are--but I know it will not do for you. Not one action has been brought to this court; no business of any sort in your way. All law ceases and the gospel will soon follow, for they are supporters of each other. Adieu. My father hurries me. Yours most sincerely.

24. JOHN ADAMS.

Philadelphia, 25 September, 1774.

I would not lose the opportunity of writing to you, though I must be short. Tedious indeed is our business--slow as snails. I have not been used to such ways. We sit only before dinner. We dine at four o'clock. We are crowded with a levee in the evening.

Fifty gentlemen meeting together, all strangers, are not acquainted with each other's language, ideas, views, designs. They are, therefore, jealous of each other--fearful, timid, skittish.

25. JOHN ADAMS.

Philadelphia, 29 September, 1774.

Sitting down to write you is a scene almost too tender for the state of my nerves.

It calls up to my view the anxious, distressed state you must be in, amidst the confusion and dangers which surround you. I long to return and administer all the consolation in my power, but when I shall have accomplished all the business I have to do here, I know not, and if it should be necessary to stay here till Christmas, or longer, in order to effect our purposes, I am determined patiently to wait.

Patience, forbearance, long-suffering, are the lessons taught here for our province, and, at the same time, absolute and open resistance to the new Government. I wish I could convince gentlemen of the danger or impracticability, of this as fully as I believe it myself. The art and address of ambassadors from a dozen belligerent powers of Europe; nay, of a conclave of cardinals at the election of a Pope; or of the princes in Germany at the choice of an Emperor, would not exceed the specimens we have seen; yet the Congress all profess the same political principles. They all profess to consider our province as suffering in the common cause, and indeed they seem to feel for us as if for themselves. We have had as great questions to discuss as ever engaged the attention of men, and an infinite multitude of them.

I received a very kind letter from Deacon Palmer,[57] acquainting me with Mr. Cranch's designs of removing to Braintree, which I approve very much, and wish I had a house for every family in Boston, and abilities to provide for them in the country. I submit it to you, my dear, whether it would not be best to remove all the books and papers and furniture in the office at Boston up to Braintree. There will be no business there nor anywhere, I suppose, and my young friends can study there better than in Boston, at present.

I shall be killed with kindness in this place. We go to Congress at nine, and there we stay, most earnestly engaged in debates upon the most abstruse mysteries of state, until three in the afternoon; then we adjourn, and go to dine with some of the nobles of Pennsylvania at four o'clock, and feast upon ten thousand delicacies, and sit drinking Madeira, Claret, and Burgundy, till six or seven, and then go home fatigued to death with business, company, and care. Yet I hold out surprisingly.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 57: Joseph Palmer, a gentleman of some fortune who had emigrated from Great Britain in 1746. He had married the sister of Mr. Cranch, who came too, and had settled upon a beautiful spot in Braintree, then and still known as Germantown. A brief account of his services during the Revolution is to be found in the _New Englander_, for January, 1845.]

26. JOHN ADAMS.

Philadelphia, 7 October, 1774.

I thank you for all your kind favors. I wish I could write to you much oftener than I do. I wish I could write to you a dozen letters every day. But the business before me is so arduous, and takes up my time so entirely, that I cannot write oftener. I had the characters and tempers, the principles and views, of fifty gentlemen, total strangers to me, to study, and the trade, policy, and whole interest of a dozen provinces to learn, when I came here. I have multitudes of pamphlets, newspapers, and private letters to read. I have numberless plans of policy and many arguments to consider. I have many visits to make and receive, much ceremony to endure, which cannot be avoided, which, you know, I hate.

There is a great spirit in the Congress. But our people must be peaceable. Let them exercise every day in the week if they will, the more the better. Let them furnish themselves with artillery, arms, and ammunition. Let them follow the maxim which you say they have adopted, "In times of peace prepare for war." But let them avoid war _if possible_--_if possible_, I say.

Mr. Revere will bring you the doings of the Congress, who are now all around me, debating what advice to give to Boston and the Massachusetts Bay.

We are all well; hope our family is so. Remember me to them all. I have advised you before to remove my office from Boston to Braintree. It is now, I think, absolutely necessary. Let the best care be taken of all books and papers. Tell all my clerks to mind their books and study hard, for their country will stand in need of able counselors. I must give you a general license to make my compliments to all my friends and acquaintances. I have not time to name them particularly. I wish they would all write to me. If they leave letters at Edes and Gill's, they will soon be sent to me.

I long to be at home, but I cannot say when. I will never leave the Congress until it rises, and when it will rise, I cannot say. And indeed I cannot say but we are better here than anywhere. We have fine opportunities to serve Boston and Massachusetts, by acquainting the whole continent with the true state of them. Our residence here greatly serves the cause. The spirit and principles of liberty here are greatly cherished by our presence and conversation. The elections of last week prove this. Mr. Dickinson was chosen, almost unanimously, a representative of the county. The broad-brims began an opposition to your friend, Mr. Mifflin, because he was too warm in the cause. This instantly alarmed the friends of liberty, and ended in the election of Mr. Mifflin by eleven hundred votes out of thirteen, and in the election of our secretary, Mr. Charles Thomson, to be a burgess with him. This is considered here as a most complete and decisive victory in favor of the American cause. And it is said it will change the balance in the legislature against Mr. Galloway, who has been supposed to sit on the skirts of the American advocates.

Mrs. Mifflin, who is a charming Quaker girl, often inquires kindly after your health.

Adieu, my dear wife. God bless you and yours; so wishes and prays, without ceasing,

JOHN ADAMS.

27. JOHN ADAMS.

9 October, 1774.

I am wearied to death with the life I lead. The business of the Congress is tedious beyond expression. This assembly is like no other that ever existed. Every man in it is a great man, an orator, a critic, a statesman; and therefore every man upon every question must show his oratory, his criticism, and his political abilities. The consequence of this is that business is drawn and spun out to an immeasurable length. I believe if it was moved and seconded that we should come to a resolution that three and two make five, we should be entertained with logic and rhetoric, law, history, politics, and mathematics, and then--we should pass the resolution unanimously in the affirmative. The perpetual round of feasting, too, which we are obliged to submit to, makes the pilgrimage more tedious to me.

This day I went to Dr. Allison's meeting in the forenoon, and heard the Dr.;[58] a good discourse upon the Lord's supper. This is a Presbyterian meeting. I confess I am not fond of the Presbyterian meetings in this town. I had rather go to Church. We have better sermons, better prayers, better speakers, softer, sweeter music, and genteeler company. And I must confess that the Episcopal church is quite as agreeable to my taste as the Presbyterian. They are both slaves to the domination of the priesthood. I like the Congregational way best, next to that the Independent.

This afternoon, led by curiosity and good company, I strolled away to mother church, or rather to grandmother church. I mean the Romish chapel. I heard a good, short moral essay upon the duty of parents to their children, founded in justice and charity, to take care of their interests, temporal and spiritual. This afternoon's entertainment was to me most awful and affecting; the poor wretches fingering their beads, chanting Latin not a word of which they understood; their pater nosters and ave Marias; their holy water; their crossing themselves perpetually; their bowing to the name of Jesus, whenever they hear it; their bowings and kneelings and genuflections before the altar. The dress of the priest was rich with lace. His pulpit was velvet and gold. The altar-piece was very rich; little images and crucifixes about; wax candles lighted up. But how shall I describe the picture of our Saviour in a frame of marble over the altar, at full length, upon the cross in the agonies, and the blood dropping and streaming from his wounds! The music, consisting of an organ and a choir of singers, went all the afternoon except sermon time. And the assembly chanted most sweetly and exquisitely.

Here is everything which can lay hold of the eye, ear, and imagination--everything which can charm and bewitch the simple and ignorant. I wonder how Luther ever broke the spell. Adieu.[59]

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 58: Francis Allison, D. D., was pastor of the First Presbyterian Church in Philadelphia, as well as Vice Provost and Professor of Moral Philosophy in the college then recently established in that city. He came from Ireland in 1735, and died highly respected on the 28th of November, 1777.]

[Footnote 59: This is the last of Mr. Adams's letters during his first visit to Philadelphia. On the 28th he left that city. The Congress had adjourned on the 21st.]

28. ABIGAIL ADAMS.

Braintree, 16 October, 1774.

My much loved friend,--I dare not express to you, at three hundred miles' distance, how ardently I long for your return. I have some very miserly wishes, and cannot consent to your spending one hour in town, till, at least, I have had you twelve. The idea plays about my heart, unnerves my hand, whilst I write; awakens all the tender sentiments that years have increased and matured, and which, when with me, every day was dispensing to you. The whole collected stock of ten weeks' absence knows not how to brook any longer restraint, but will break forth and flow through my pen. May the like sensations enter thy breast, and (spite of all the weighty cares of state) mingle themselves with those I wish to communicate; for, in giving them utterance, I have felt more sincere pleasure than I have known since the 10th of August.[60] Many have been the anxious hours I have spent since that day; the threatening aspect of our public affairs, the complicated distress of this province, the arduous and perplexed business in which you are engaged, have all conspired to agitate my bosom with fears and apprehensions to which I have heretofore been a stranger; and, far from thinking the scene closed, it looks as though the curtain was but just drawn, and only the first scene of the infernal plot disclosed. And whether the end will be tragical, Heaven alone knows. You cannot be, I know, nor do I wish to see you, an inactive spectator; but if the sword be drawn, I bid adieu to all domestic felicity, and look forward to that country where there are neither wars nor rumors of war, in a firm belief, that through the mercy of its King we shall both rejoice there together.

I greatly fear that the arm of treachery and violence is lifted over us, as a scourge and heavy punishment from Heaven for our numerous offenses, and for the misimprovement of our great advantages. If we expect to inherit the blessings of our fathers, we should return a little more to their primitive simplicity of manners, and not sink into inglorious ease. We have too many high-sounding words, and too few actions that correspond with them. I have spent one Sabbath in town since you left. I saw no difference in respect to ornament, etc.; but in the country you must look for that virtue, of which you find but small glimmerings in the metropolis. Indeed, they have not the advantages, nor the resolution, to encourage our own manufactories, which people in the country have. To the mercantile part, it is considered as throwing away their own bread; but they must retrench their expenses, and be content with a small share of gain, for they will find but few who will wear their livery. As for me, I will seek wool and flax, and work willingly with my hands; and indeed there is occasion for all our industry and economy. You mention the removal of our books, etc., from Boston;[61] I believe they are safe there, and it would incommode the gentlemen to remove them, as they would not then have a place to repair to for study. I suppose they would not choose to be at the expense of boarding out. Mr. Williams, I believe, keeps pretty much with his mother. Mr. Hill's father had some thoughts of removing up to Braintree, provided he could be accommodated with a house, which he finds very difficult.

Mr. Cranch's last determination was to tarry in town unless anything new takes place. His friends in town oppose his removal so much that he is determined to stay. The opinion you have entertained of General Gage is, I believe, just. Indeed, he professes to act only upon the defensive. The people in the country begin to be very anxious for the Congress to rise; they have no idea of the weighty business you have to transact, and their blood boils with indignation at the hostile preparations they are constant witnesses of. Mr. Quincy's so secret departure is matter of various speculation; some say he is deputed by the Congress, others that he is gone to Holland, and the Tories say he is gone to be hanged.[62]

I rejoice at the favorable account you give me of your health. May it be continued to you. My health is much better than it was last fall; some folks say I grow very fat. I venture to write almost anything in this letter, because I know the care of the bearer. He will be most sadly disappointed if you should be broken up before he arrives, as he is very desirous of being introduced by you to a number of gentlemen of respectable character. I almost envy him, that he should see you before I can. Mr. Thaxter and Mr. Rice present their regards to you. Uncle Quincy, too, sends his love to you. He is very good to call and see me, and so have many other of my friends been. Colonel Warren[63] and lady were here on Monday, and send their love to you. The Colonel promised to write. Mrs. Warren will spend a day or two, on her return, with me.

Your mother sends her love to you; and all your family, too numerous to name, desire to be remembered. You will receive letters from two who are as earnest to write to papa as if the welfare of a kingdom depended upon it.[64] If you can give any guess, within a month, let me know when you think of returning.

Your most affectionate

ABIGAIL ADAMS.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 60: The date of Mr. Adams's departure.]

[Footnote 61: Letter of Mr. Adams, 29 September, 1774.]

[Footnote 62: See the _Memoir of the Life of Josiah Quincy, Jr._, by his son, Josiah Quincy, p. 182.]

[Footnote 63: James Warren, of Plymouth.]

[Footnote 64: One of these letters has been preserved. The writer was at this time seven years old. His subsequent career may make it interesting enough to print. It is written in a tolerably good, boy's hand, as follows:--

October 13, 1774.

Sir,--I have been trying ever since you went away to learn to write
you a letter. I shall make poor work of it; but, sir, mamma says
you will accept my endeavors, and that my duty to you may be
expressed in poor writing as well as good. I hope I grow a better
boy, and that you will have no occasion to be ashamed of me when
you return. Mr. Thaxter says I learn my books well. He is a very
good master. I read my books to mamma. We all long to see you. I
am, sir, your dutiful son,

JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.]

29. JOHN ADAMS.

Hartford,[65] 30 April, 1775.

New York has appointed an ample representation in our Congress, and has appointed a Provincial Congress. The people of the city have seized the city arms and ammunition out of the hands of the mayor, who is a creature of the Governor. Lord North will certainly be disappointed in his expectation of seducing New York. The Tories there durst not show their heads. The Jerseys are aroused, and greatly assist the friends of liberty in New York. North Carolina has done bravely; chosen the old delegates in Provincial Congress, and then confirmed the choice in General Assembly, in opposition to all that Governor Martin could do. The Assembly of this colony is now sitting at Hartford. We are treated with great tenderness, sympathy, friendship, and respect. Everything is doing by this colony that can be done by men, both for New York and Boston. Keep your spirits composed and calm, and don't suffer yourself to be disturbed by idle reports and frivolous alarms. We shall see better times yet. Lord North is insuring us success. I am wounded to the heart with the news, this moment told me, of Josiah Quincy's death.[66]

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 65: Mr. Adams left home on the 14th, on his second mission as a delegate of Massachusetts.]

[Footnote 66: Mr. Quincy died before the vessel which bore him home could reach its destination.]

30. JOHN ADAMS.

Hartford, 2 May, 1775.

Our hearts are bleeding for the poor people of Boston. What will or can be done for them I can't conceive. God preserve them.

I take this opportunity to write, by our committee who were sent to this colony,[67] just to let you know that I am comfortable, and shall proceed this afternoon. Pray write to me, and get all my friends to write, and let me be informed of everything that occurs. Send your letters to Colonel Palmer or Dr. Warren, who will convey them. They will reach me sooner or later. This colony is raising six thousand men. Rhode Island, fifteen hundred. New York has shut up their port, seized the custom house, arms, ammunition, etc., called a Provincial Congress, and entered into an association to stand by whatever shall be ordered by the Continental and their Provincial Congress. Dr. Cooper[68] fled on board a man of war, and the Tories are humbled in the dust.

Tell my brothers I have bought some military books, and intend to buy more, so that I shall come back qualified to make them complete officers. Write me whether either of them intends to take a command in the army. I won't advise them, but leave them to their own inclinations and discretion. But, if they should incline, they should apply to Colonel Palmer and Dr. Warren soon.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 67: This committee had been sent to Connecticut under an alarm of a separate negotiation, which is explained by Dr. Gordon, Vol. II., p. 19.]

[Footnote 68: Dr. Myles Cooper, an Englishman, graduated at Oxford, and sent out by Archbishop Seeker to be president of King's College. He was an old school High Church and State man, and proved one of the most active opponents of the Revolutionary movement. The rumor here mentioned was not true at this time. But eight days later the Dr. narrowly escaped rough treatment by a mob, from whom he fled, and found his way on board the _Kingfisher_, which took him to England. He died at Edinburgh in 1785.]

31. JOHN ADAMS.

Mr. Eliot, of Fairfield, is this moment arrived, on his way to Boston. He read us a letter from the Dr., his father, dated yesterday sennight, being Sunday. The Dr.'s description of the melancholy of the town is enough to melt a stone. The trials of that unhappy and devoted people are likely to be severe indeed. God grant that the furnace of affliction may refine them. God grant that they may be relieved from their present distress.

It is arrogance and presumption, in human sagacity, to pretend to penetrate far into the designs of Heaven. The most perfect reverence and resignation becomes us, but I cannot help depending upon this, that the present dreadful calamity of that beloved town is intended to bind the colonies together in more indissoluble bonds, and to animate their exertions at this great crisis in the affairs of mankind. It has this effect in a most remarkable degree, as far as I have yet seen or heard. It will plead with all America with more irresistible persuasion than angels trumpet-tongued.

In a cause which interests the whole globe, at a time when my friends and country are in such keen distress, I am scarcely ever interrupted in the least degree by apprehensions for my personal safety. I am often concerned for you and our dear babes, surrounded, as you are, by people who are too timorous and too much susceptible of alarms. Many fears and jealousies and imaginary dangers will be suggested to you, but I hope you will not be impressed by them. In case of real danger, of which you cannot fail to have previous intimations, fly to the woods with our children. Give my tenderest love to them, and to all.

32. ABIGAIL ADAMS.

Braintree, 4 May, 1775.

I have but little news to write you. Everything of that kind you will learn by a more accurate hand than mine. Things remain in much the same situation here that they were when you went away. There has been no descent upon the seacoast. Guards are regularly kept, and people seem more settled and are returning to their husbandry. I feel somewhat lonely. Mr. Thaxter is gone home. Mr. Rice is going into the army, as captain of a company. We have no school. I know not what to do with John. As government is assumed, I suppose courts of justice will be established, and in that case there may be business to do. If so, would it not be best for Mr. Thaxter to return? They seem to be discouraged in the study of law, and think there never will be any business for them. I could have wished they had consulted you upon the subject, before you went away.

I suppose you will receive two or three volumes of that forlorn wretch Hutchinson's letters.[69] Among many other things, I hear he wrote in 1772, that Deacon Phillips and you had like to have been chosen into the Council, but, if you had, you should have shared the same fate with Bowers.[70] May the fate of Mordecai be his. There is nobody admitted into town yet. I have made two or three attempts to get somebody in, but cannot succeed; so have not been able to do the business you left in charge with me. I want very much to hear from you, how you stood your journey, and in what state you find yourself now. I felt very anxious about you; though I endeavored to be very insensible and heroic, yet my heart felt like a heart of lead. The same night you left me, I heard of Mr. Quincy's death, which, at this time, was a most melancholy event; especially as he wrote in minutes, which he left behind, that he had matters of consequence intrusted with him, which, for want of a confidant, must die with him.[71] I went to see his distressed widow last Saturday, at the Colonel's; and in the afternoon, from an alarm they had, she and her sister, with three others of the family, took refuge with me and tarried all night. She desired me to present her regards to you, and let you know she wished you every blessing,--should always esteem you as a sincere friend of her deceased husband. Poor, afflicted woman; my heart was wounded for her. I must quit the subject, and entreat you to write me by every opportunity.

Yours,

PORTIA.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 69: Accidentally discovered by Mr. Samuel Henshaw in the garret of Hutchinson's house at Milton. See Gordon's History, Vol. II., p 29.]

[Footnote 70: That is, would have received the Governor's negative.]

[Footnote 71: Memoir of Josiah Quincy, Jr., p. 345.]

33. ABIGAIL ADAMS.

7 May, 1775.

I received by the Deacon two letters[72] from you, this day, from Hartford. I feel a recruit of spirits upon the reception of them, and the comfortable news which they contain. We had not heard anything from North Carolina before, and could not help feeling anxious lest we should find a defection there, arising more from their ancient feuds and animosities than from any settled ill-will in the present contest; but the confirmation of the choice of their delegates by their Assembly leaves not a doubt of their firmness. Nor doth the eye say unto the hand, "I have no need of thee." The Lord will not cast off his people, neither will He forsake his inheritance. Great events are most certainly in the womb of futurity; and, if the present chastisements which we experience have a proper influence upon our conduct, the event will certainly be in our favor. The distresses of the inhabitants of Boston are beyond the power of language to describe; there are but very few who are permitted to come out in a day; they delay giving passes, make them wait from hour to hour, and their counsels are not two hours together alike. One day, they shall come out with their effects; the next day, merchandise is not effects. One day, their household furniture is to come out; the next, only wearing apparel; the next, Pharaoh's heart is hardened, and he refuseth to hearken to them, and will not let the people go. May their deliverance be wrought out for them, as it was for the children of Israel. I do not mean by miracles, but by the interposition of Heaven in their favor. They have taken a list of all those who they suppose were concerned in watching the tea, and every other person whom they call obnoxious, and they and their effects are to suffer destruction.

Yours,

PORTIA.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 72: Nos. 29, 30, page 50.]

34. JOHN ADAMS.

New York, May 8, 1775.

I have an opportunity by Captain Beale to write you a line. We all arrived last night in this city. It would take many sheets of paper to give you a description of the reception we found here. The militia were all in arms, and almost the whole city out to meet us. The Tories are put to flight here as effectually as the Mandamus Council at Boston. They have associated to stand by Continental and Provincial Congresses, etc., etc., etc. Such a spirit was never seen in New York.

Jose Bass met with a misfortune in the midst of some of the unnecessary parade that was made about us. My mare, being galled with an ugly buckle in the tackling, suddenly flinched and started in turning short round a rock, in a shocking bad road, overset the sulky, which frightened her still more. She ran and dashed the body of the sulky all to pieces. I was obliged to leave my sulky, slip my baggage on board Mr. Cushing's carriage, buy me a saddle, and mount on horseback. I am thankful that Bass was not killed. He was in the utmost danger, but not materially hurt.

I am sorry for this accident, both on account of the trouble and expense occasioned by it. But in times like these such little accidents should not afflict us.

Let me caution you, my dear, to be upon your guard against the multitude of affrights and alarms which, I fear, will surround you. Yet I hope the people with you will grow more composed than they were.

Our prospect of a union of the colonies is promising indeed. Never was there such a spirit. Yet I feel anxious, because there is always more smoke than fire--more noise than music.

Our province is nowhere blamed. The accounts of the battle are exaggerated in our favor. My love to all. I pray for you all, and hope to be prayed for. Certainly there is a Providence; certainly we must depend upon Providence, or we fail; certainly the sincere prayers of good men avail much. But resignation is our duty in all events. I have this day heard Mr. Livingston in the morning, and Mr. Rogers this afternoon--excellent men, and excellent prayers and sermons.

35. ABIGAIL ADAMS.

Braintree, 24 May, 1775.

I suppose you have had a formidable account of the alarm we had last Sunday morning. When I rose, about six o'clock, I was told that the drums had been some time beating, and that three alarm guns were fired; that Weymouth bell had been ringing, and Mr. Weld's was then ringing. I immediately sent off an express to know the occasion, and found the whole town in confusion.[73] Three sloops and one cutter had come out and dropped anchor just below Great Hill. It was difficult to tell their designs; some supposed they were coming to Germantown, others to Weymouth; people, women, children, from the iron-works, came flocking down this way; every woman and child driven off from below my father's; my father's family flying. The Dr.[74] is in great distress, as you may well imagine, for my aunt had her bed thrown into a cart, into which she got herself, and ordered the boy to drive her to Bridgewater, which he did. The report was to them that three hundred had landed, and were upon their march up into town. The alarm flew like lightning, and men from all parts came flocking down, till two thousand were collected. But it seems their expedition was to Grape Island for Levett's hay. There it was impossible to reach them, for want of boats; but the sight of so many persons, and the firing at them, prevented their getting more than three tons of hay, though they had carted much more down to the water. At last a lighter was mustered, and a sloop from Hingham, which had six port-holes. Our men eagerly jumped on board, and put off for the island. As soon as they perceived it, they decamped. Our people landed upon the island, and in an instant set fire to the hay, which, with the barn, was soon consumed,--about eighty tons, it is said. We expect soon to be in continual alarms, till something decisive takes place.

We wait, with longing expectation, in hopes to hear the best accounts from you, with regard to union and harmony, etc. We rejoice greatly on the arrival of Dr. Franklin, as he must certainly be able to inform you very particularly of the situation of affairs in England. I wish you would, if you can get time, be as particular as you _may_, when you write. Every one hereabouts comes to me, to hear what accounts I have. I was so unlucky as not to get the letter you wrote at New York. Captain Beale forgot it, and left it behind. We have a flying report here, with regard to New York, but cannot give any credit to it, as yet, that they had been engaged with the ships, which Gage sent there, and had taken them, with great loss upon both sides.

Yesterday we had an account of three ships coming into Boston. I believe it is true, as there was a salute from the other ships, though I have not been able to learn from whence they come. I suppose you have had an account of the fire, which did much damage to the warehouses, and added greatly to the distresses of the inhabitants, whilst it continued. The bad conduct of General Gage[75] was the means of its doing so much damage.

Our house has been, upon this alarm, in the same scene of confusion that it was upon the former. Soldiers coming in for a lodging, for breakfast, for supper, for drink, etc. Sometimes refugees from Boston, tired and fatigued, seek an asylum for a day, a night, a week. You can hardly imagine how we live; yet,--

"To the houseless child of want,
Our doors are open still;
And though our portions are but scant,
We give them with good will."

My best wishes attend you, both for your health and happiness, and that you may be directed into the wisest and best measures for our safety and the security of our posterity. I wish you were nearer to us; we know not what a day will bring forth, nor what distress one hour may throw us into. Hitherto I have been able to maintain a calmness and presence of mind, and hope I shall, let the exigency of the time be what it will. Adieu, breakfast calls.

Your affectionate,

PORTIA.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 73: This alarm came from the part of the town farthest removed from Boston. Mr. Weld's meeting-house was in the south precinct, and immediately to the west of Weymouth. It was accessible by the river Monatiquot, which was the cause of the apprehension.]

[Footnote 74: Dr. Cotton Tufts, a resident of Weymouth, the neighboring town. He had married one of the daughters of John Quincy, a sister of the writer's mother.]

[Footnote 75: He had taken the engine under guard, in consequence of a report that the liberty party intended to fire the town. See _The Remembrancer_ for 1775, pp. 95, 98.]

36. JOHN ADAMS.

Philadelphia, 26 May, 1775.

I embrace an opportunity by two young gentlemen from Maryland to write you a line, on friend Mifflin's table. The names of these gentlemen are Hall. They are of one of the best families in Maryland, and have independent fortunes--one a lawyer, the other a physician. If you have an opportunity, I beg you would show to these gentlemen all the civilities possible. Get them introduced to your uncle Quincy, and to your father and Dr. Tufts, and let everything be done to show them respect. They come five hundred miles to fight for you. They are volunteers to our camp, where they intend to spend the season.

My love and duty where they should be. I have not so good health as I had before, and I have harder service. Our business is more extensive and complicated, more affecting and hazardous. But our unanimity will not be less. We have a number of new and very ingenious members.

37. JOHN ADAMS.

29 May, 1775.

Our amiable friend Hancock, who, by the way, is our president, is to send his servant to-morrow for Cambridge. I am to send a few lines by him. If his man should come to you to deliver this letter, treat him very kindly, because he is a kind, humane, clever fellow.

We are distressed here for want of intelligence and information from you and from Boston, Cambridge, etc., etc., etc. We have no regular advices. I received one kind letter from you in one from Colonel Warren. An excellent letter I had from him. It has done him great honor and me much good.

My duty and love to all. I have had miserable health and blind eyes ever since I left you. But I found Dr. Young here, who, after scolding at me quantum sufficit for not taking his advice, has pilled and electuaried me into pretty good order. My eyes are better, my head is better, and so are my spirits.

This Congress will support the Massachusetts. But we have an amazing field of business before us. When I shall have the joy of meeting you and our little ones I know not.

The military spirit which runs through the continent is truly amazing. This city turns out two thousand men every day. Mr. Dickinson is a colonel, Mr. Reed a lieutenant-colonel, Mr. Mifflin a major. He ought to have been a general, for he has been the animating soul of the whole.

Colonel Washington appears at Congress in his uniform, and, by his great experience and abilities in military matters, is of much service to us.

Oh that I were a soldier! I will be. I am reading military books. Everybody must, and will, and shall be a soldier.

38. JOHN ADAMS.

Philadelphia, 2 June, 1775.

I had yesterday the pleasure of two letters from you, by Dr. Church. We had been so long without any intelligence from our country, that the sight of the Dr. gave us great joy. I have received no letters from England, until the Doctor brought me one from Mr. Dilly.[76]

Mr. Henly goes, to-morrow, to the camp at Cambridge. I am not so ill as I was when I left you, though not well.

Our debates and deliberations are tedious; from nine to four, five, and once near six--our determinations very slow--I hope sure. The Congress will support us, but in their own way. Not precisely in that way which I could wish, but in a better way than we could well expect, considering what a heterogeneous body it is.

The prospect of crops in all the Southern colonies never was exceeded. What will become of the immense quantities of provisions, when the non-exportation takes place, I can't conceive. Surely we shall not starve.

Poor Bostonians! My heart bleeds for them day and night. God preserve and bless them!

Was you frightened when the sheep-stealers got a drubbing at Grape Island? Father Smith prayed for our scow crew, I doubt not; but how did my dear friend Dr. Tufts sustain the shock? My duty and love to them and all others who justly claim them.

Dr. Warren writes me about my brother. My love to both my brothers, my duty to my mother and your uncle Quincy. Tell him I hope our company continue their exercises. He would burst to see whole companies of armed Quakers in this city, in uniforms, going through the manual and manoeuvres like regular troops.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 76: Edward Dilly, the publisher in London, who seems to have sympathized with the patriotic party here, and with whom Mr. Adams carried on a correspondence.]

39. JOHN ADAMS.

Philadelphia, 6 June, 1775.

I have received yours of 24 May, and a copy of your letter to Mr. Dilly, and one letter from him. Your letter to him is a very agreeable one. I hope you will continue to write him, whenever you have opportunity.

I am afraid you will have more alarms than are necessary, in consequence of the brush at Grape Island. But I hope you will maintain your philosophical composure.

Saturday last I took a little excursion, with Colonel Dyer and Mr. Deane, down to Wilmington, a pretty village about thirty miles below this city, upon Delaware River, and kept Sabbath there. I find myself better for the ride.

We have a charming prospect here of a plentiful summer; hope it is so with you.

With yours, I had the pleasure of a letter from your uncle Smith. I was rejoiced to find him and his family escaped from prison.

Pray let me know whether your brother is in the army, and in what command. Let me know, too, about my brothers. My love to them.

40. JOHN ADAMS.

10 June, 1775.

Dr. Church returns to-day, and, with smarting eyes, I must write a few lines to you. I never had in my life such severe duty to do, and was never worse qualified to do it. My eyes depress my spirits, and my health is quite infirm. Yet I keep about, and attend Congress very constantly.

I wish I could write freely to you, my dear, but I cannot. The scene before me is complicated enough. It requires better eyes and better nerves than mine; yet I will not despond. I will lay all difficulties prostrate at my feet. My health and life ought to be hazarded in the cause of my country, as well as yours, and all my friends.

It is impossible to convey to you any adequate idea of the embarrassments I am under. I wish that you and our friends may not be in greater distress than I am. I fear you are. Pray let me know as often as possible. Our friends write to Mr. ----, not to me, this time. They don't let us know the state of Boston people, nor the state of the army in Boston, so exactly as I could wish.

Two days ago we saw a very wonderful phenomenon in this city: a field-day, on which three battalions of soldiers were reviewed, making full two thousand men, battalion men, light infantry, grenadiers, riflemen, light horse, artillery men with a fine train, all in uniforms, going through the manual exercise and the manoeuvres with remarkable dexterity. All this has been accomplished in this city since the 19th of April; so sudden a formation of an army never took place anywhere.

In Congress we are bound to secrecy. But, under the rose, I believe that ten thousand men will be maintained in the Massachusetts, and five thousand in New York, at the Continental expense.

We have a Major Skene, just arrived from London with a commission to be governor of Crown Point and Ticonderoga, and surveyor of the woods, etc., a close prisoner. He must dispute for his government with Arnold and Allen. My love and duty where due.

41. JOHN ADAMS.

Same date.

Dr. Church has given me a lotion which has helped my eyes so much that I hope you will hear from me oftener than you have done. Pray write me as often and particularly as possible. Send your letters to the care of the Committee of Safety, who will forward them. I long to know how you fare, and whether you are often discomposed with alarms. Guard yourself against them, my dear. I think you are in no danger. Don't let the groundless fears and fruitful imaginations of others affect you. Let me know what guards are kept, and who were principally concerned in the battle at Grape Island, as well as that at Chelsea. The reputation of our countrymen for valor is very high. I hope they will maintain it, as well as that for prudence, caution, and conduct.

When I shall come home I know not. We have business enough before us, to detain us until the 31st of next December. No assembly ever had a greater number of great objects before them. Provinces, nations, empires are small things before us. I wish we were good architects.

42. ABIGAIL ADAMS.

Weymouth,[77] 15 June, 1775.

I sat down to write to you on Monday, but really could not compose myself sufficiently; the anxiety I suffered from not hearing one syllable from you for more than five weeks, and the new distress arising from the arrival of recruits, agitated me more than I have been since the never-to-be-forgotten 14th of April. I have been much revived by receiving two letters from you last night; one by the servant of your friend, and the other by the gentlemen you mention, though they both went to Cambridge, and I have not seen them. I hope to send this as a return to you.

I feared much for your health, when you went away. I must entreat you to be as careful as you can consistently with the duty you owe your country. That consideration, alone, prevailed with me to consent to your departure in a time so perilous and so hazardous to your family, and with a body so infirm as to require the tenderest care and nursing. I wish you may be supported and divinely assisted in this most important crisis, when the fate of empire depends upon your wisdom and conduct. I greatly rejoice to hear of your union and determination to stand by us.