Part 12
We have, since I wrote you, had many fine showers, and, although the crops of grass have been cut short, we have a fine prospect of Indian corn and English grain. Be not afraid, ye beasts of the field, for the pastures of the wilderness do spring, the tree beareth her fruit, the vine and the olive yield their increase. We have not yet been much distressed for grain. Everything at present looks blooming. Oh that peace would once more extend her olive branch!
"This day be bread and peace my lot; All else beneath the sun, Thou knowest if best bestowed or not, And let thy will be done."
"But is the almighty ever bound to please, Build by my wish, or studious of my ease? Shall I determine where his frowns shall fall, And fence my grotto from the lot of all? Prostrate, his sovereign wisdom I adore, Intreat his mercy, but I dare no more."
I have now written you all I can collect from every quarter. 'T is fit for no eyes but yours, because you can make all necessary allowances. I cannot copy.
There are yet in town three of the selectmen and some thousands of inhabitants, 't is said. I hope to hear from you soon. Do let me know if there is any prospect of seeing you. Next Wednesday is thirteen weeks since you went away. I must bid you adieu.
You have many friends, though they have not noticed you by writing. I am sorry they have been so negligent. I hope no share of that blame lies upon
Your most affectionate
PORTIA.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 86: Simple Sapling is the name given to one of the dramatis personae in Mrs. Warren's satirical piece called _The Group_. In one copy, which has a written key to the characters, Nathaniel R. Thomas is named, in another Abijah White.]
[Footnote 87: A brief account of this enterprise by an eye-witness is given in Force's _American Archives_, Fourth Series, Vol. II., p. 165.]
52. JOHN ADAMS.
Philadelphia, 23 July, 1775.
You have more than once in your letters mentioned Dr. Franklin, and in one intimated a desire that I should write you something concerning him.
Dr. Franklin has been very constant in his attendance on Congress from the beginning. His conduct has been composed and grave, and, in the opinion of many gentlemen, very reserved. He has not assumed anything, nor affected to take the lead; but has seemed to choose that the Congress should pursue their own principles and sentiments, and adopt their own plans. Yet he has not been backward; has been very useful on many occasions, and discovered a disposition entirely American. He does not hesitate at our boldest measures, but rather seems to think us too irresolute and backward. He thinks us at present in an odd state, neither in peace nor war, neither dependent nor independent; but he thinks that we shall soon assume a character more decisive. He thinks that we have the power of preserving ourselves; and that even if we should be driven to the disagreeable necessity of assuming a total independency, and set up a separate state, we can maintain it. The people of England have thought that the opposition in America was wholly owing to Dr. Franklin; and I suppose their scribblers will attribute the temper and proceedings of Congress to him; but there cannot be a greater mistake. He has had but little share, further than to cooperate and to assist. He is, however, a great and good man. I wish his colleagues from this city were all like him; particularly one,[88] whose abilities and virtues, formerly trumpeted so much in America, have been found wanting. There is a young gentleman from Pennsylvania, whose name is Wilson, whose fortitude, rectitude, and abilities too, greatly outshine his master's. Mr. Biddle, the Speaker, has been taken off by sickness, Mr. Mifflin is gone to the camp, Mr. Morton is ill too, so that this province has suffered by the timidity of two overgrown fortunes. The dread of confiscation or caprice, I know not what, has influenced them too much; yet they were for taking arms, and pretended to be very valiant.
This letter must be secret, my dear; at least communicated with great discretion.
Yours,
JOHN ADAMS.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 88: John Dickinson.]
53. JOHN ADAMS.
Same date.
Have only time to send by this opportunity a token of remembrance.
The fast was observed here with a decorum and solemnity never before seen on a Sabbath. The clergy of all denominations here preached upon politics and war in a manner that I never heard in New England. They are a flame of fire. It is astonishing to me that the people are so cool here. Such sermons in our country would have a much greater effect.
I hope to see you erelong. You have stirred up my friends to write to me. Austin, Tudor, Rice, have wrote.
Dr. Tufts wrote me an excellent letter, and very particular intelligence.
My love to all the children.
54. JOHN ADAMS.
24 July, 1775.
It is now almost three months since I left you, in every part of which, my anxiety about you and the children, as well as our country, has been extreme. The business I have had upon my mind has been as great and important as can be entrusted to man, and the difficulty and intricacy of it prodigious. When fifty or sixty men have a Constitution to form for a great empire, at the same time that they have a country of fifteen hundred miles in extent to fortify, millions to arm and train, a naval power to begin, an extensive commerce to regulate, numerous tribes of Indians to negotiate with, a standing army of twenty-seven thousand men to raise, pay, victual, and officer, I really shall pity those fifty or sixty men. I must see you erelong. Rice has written me a very good letter. So has Thaxter, for which I thank them both. Love to the children.
J. A.
P. S.--I wish I had given you a complete history, from the beginning to the end of the journey, of the behavior of my compatriots. No mortal tale can equal it. I will tell you in future, but you shall keep it secret. The fidgets, the whims, the caprice, the vanity, the superstition, the inability of some of us is enough to[89]----
Yours.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 89: This letter, with one of the same date to James Warren, was intercepted and published by the British. Of its effect on the position of the writer, some account has been given elsewhere. _Works of John Adams_, Vol. I. pp. 180, 181.]
55. ABIGAIL ADAMS.
Braintree, 25 July, 1775.
Dearest Friend,--I received yours of July 7th, for which I heartily thank you. It was the longest and best letter I have had; the most leisurely, and therefore the most sentimental. Previous to your last, I had written you, and made some complaints of you, but I will take them all back again. Only continue your obliging favors, whenever your time will allow you to devote one moment to your absent Portia.
This is the 25th of July. Gage has not made any attempts to march out since the battle at Charlestown. Our army is restless, and wish to be doing something to rid themselves and the land of the vermin and locusts which infest it. Since I wrote you last, the companies stationed upon the coast, both in this town, Weymouth, and Hingham, were ordered to Nantasket, to reap and bring off the grain, which they accomplished, all except a field or two which was not ripe; and having whaleboats, they undertook to go to the Lighthouse and set fire to it, which they effected in open day, and in fair sight of several men-of-war. Upon their return came down upon them eight barges, one cutter, and one schooner, all in battle-array, and poured whole broadsides upon them; but our men all reached the shore, and not one life lost, two only slightly wounded in their legs. They marched up a hill, and drew into order in hopes the marines would land; but they chose rather to return without a land engagement, though 't is thought they will burn the town down as soon as our forces leave it. I had this account from Captain Vinton, who with his company were there. These little skirmishes seem trifling, but they serve to inure our men, and harden them to danger. I hear the rebels are very wroth at the destruction of the Lighthouse.
There has been an offer from Gage to send the poor of Boston to Salem, by water, but not complied with on our part; they returned for answer, they would receive them upon the lines. Dr. Tufts saw a letter from Deacon Newall, in which he mentions the death of John Cotton; he says it is very sickly in town. Every fishing vessel is now obliged to enter and clear out, as though she was going a foreign voyage. No inhabitant is suffered to partake, but obliged to wait till the army is supplied, and then, if one [fish] remains, they are allowed to purchase it. An order has been given out in town that no person shall be seen to wipe his face with a white handkerchief. The reason I hear is, that it is a signal of mutiny. General Burgoyne lives in Mr. Sam Quincy's house. A lady, who lived opposite, says she saw raw meat cut and hacked upon her mahogany tables, and her superb damask curtain and cushions exposed to the rain, as if they were of no value. How much better do the Tories fare than the Whigs? I suppose this worthy, good man was put in with all confidence that nothing should be hurt.
I was very much pleased with General Lee's letter,[90] and really entertained a more favorable opinion of Burgoyne than I before had imbibed from his speech; but a late letter from London, written to Mr. Josiah Quincy, and, in case of his absence, to be opened either by you or Mr. Samuel Adams, or either of the Warrens, has left me no room to think that he is possessed either of generosity, virtue, or humanity. His character runs thus:--
"As to Burgoyne, I am not master of language sufficient to give you a true idea of the horrible wickedness of the man. His designs are dark; his dissimulation of the deepest dye; for, not content with deceiving mankind, he practices deceit on God himself, by assuming the appearance (like Hutchinson) of great attention to religious worship, when every action of his life is totally abhorrent to all ideas of true religion, virtue, or common honesty. An abandoned, infamous gambler, of broken fortune, and the worst and most detestable of the Bedford gang, who are wholly bent on blood, tyranny, and spoil, and therefore the darling favorite of our unrivaled ruler, Lord Bute."[91]
The character of Howe is not drawn much more favorably, but Clinton's general character very good, and 't is said he does not relish the service he is sent upon. I am ready to believe this of Clinton, as I have never heard of any speeches of his since his arrival, nor scarcely any mention of him. That such characters as Burgoyne and Howe should engage in such a cause is not to be wondered at; but it is really to be lamented, when a man possessed of one spark of virtue should be drawn aside, and disgrace himself and posterity by adding one more to the already infamous list. I suppose you have heard of Derby's arrival,[92] and the intelligence he brings. I could not refrain wishing them everlasting fetters; "the news received with some symptoms of pleasure," and "our friends increased," and a few more such sugar plums. Were they suffering as we are, could Americans sit thus coldly whilst Britons were bleeding? How is it possible that the love of gain and the lust of domination should render the human mind so callous to every principle of honor, generosity, and benevolence?
May that day be far distant from America, when "trade's unfeeling train" shall "usurp this land, and dispossess the swain."
"Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay; Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade; A breath can make them, as a breath has made; But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, When once destroyed, can never be supplied."
Your address meets with general approbation here; your petitioning the King again pleases (forgive me if I say the timid and the weak) those persons who were esteemed the lukewarm, and who think no works of supererogation can be performed to Great Britain; whilst others say you heap coals of fire upon the heads of your enemies. You know you are considered here as a most perfect body; if one member is by any means rendered incapable of acting, 't is supposed the deficiency will be made up. The query is, why your President left the Congress so long as to make it necessary to choose another member,[93]--whether he declined returning to you again.
I suppose you have a list of our Council. It was generally thought that Gage would make an attempt to come out either Election day or upon the Fast; but I could not believe we should be disturbed upon that day. Even "the devils believe and tremble," and I really believe they are more afraid of the Americans' prayers than of their swords. I could not bear to hear our inanimate old bachelor.[94] Mrs. Cranch and I took our chaise and went to hear Mr. Haven, of Dedham, and we had no occasion to repent eleven miles' ride; especially as I had the pleasure of spending the day with my namesake and sister delegate.[95] Why should we not assume your titles when we give you up our names? I found her comfortably situated in a little country cottage, with patience, perseverance, and fortitude for her companions, and in better health than she has enjoyed for many months past.
I fear General Thomas being overlooked, and Heath placed over him, will create much uneasiness. I know not who was to blame, but it is likely to make a great and fatal gap in the army. If Thomas resigns, all his officers resign; and Mr. Thomas cannot with honor hold under Heath. The camp will evince to every eye how good an officer he has been; but this is out of my sphere. I only say what others say, and what the general disposition of the people is.
I believe you will not complain that I do not write often enough, and at length enough. When you are tired, tell me. Pray make my compliments to Mr. Barrell for his great civility to Portia. I really feel very anxious at being exposed to any eyes but yours, whose partiality I have so often experienced to cover a multitude of faults, that I rely upon it with the utmost security. You will not fail letting me hear from you by every opportunity.
I need not say how much I want to see you, but no one will credit my story of your returning in a month. I hope to have the best of proofs to convince them.
It cannot need any to convince you how sincerely
I am your affectionate
PORTIA.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 90: See _Memoirs of the Life of the late Charles Lee, Esq._, published in London in 1793, p. 323.]
[Footnote 91: It is scarcely necessary to point out the extravagance of this invective. It sounds very like Arthur Lee.]
[Footnote 92: Captain John Derby had just returned from his trip to Great Britain with the first news of the affair at Concord.]
[Footnote 93: This alludes to Peyton Randolph, who was suddenly called home to Virginia, on the 24th of May, leaving his place vacant. John Hancock was chosen to fill it. Mr. Randolph did return soon after, and died at Philadelphia in October.]
[Footnote 94: Anthony Wibird, the pastor of the parish of which Mr. Adams was a member.]
[Footnote 95: Mrs. Samuel Adams.]
56. JOHN ADAMS.
Philadelphia, 30 July, 1775.
This letter is intended to go by my friend Mr. William Barrell, whom I believe you have seen in Boston. If he calls at our house you will please to receive him complaisantly and thank him for your present of pins. I have been treated by him with great civility both at this and the former Congress.
This day I have heard my parish priest, Mr. Duffield, from 2 Chronicles xv. 1, 2. This gentleman never fails to adapt his discourse to the times. He pressed upon his audience the necessity of piety and virtue, in the present times of adversity, and held up to their view the army before Boston as an example. He understood, he said, that the voice of the swearer was scarcely heard; that the Sabbath was well observed, and all immoralities discountenanced. No doubt there were vicious individuals, but the general character was good. I hope this good man's information is true, and that this will become more and more the true character of that camp. You may well suppose that this language was exceedingly pleasing to me.
We have nothing new but the arrival of some powder. Three little vessels have certainly arrived, making about ten tons in the whole, and four or five tons have arrived from South Carolina. A supply I think now we shall certainly obtain. Congress have taken measures for this end which I hope to have the pleasure of explaining to you in person within a few days, as Congress has determined to adjourn to some time in September. I could not vote for this myself, because I thought it might be necessary to keep together, but I could not blame those who did; for really we have been all so assiduous in business in this exhausting, debilitating climate, that our lives are more exposed than they would be in camp.
Love to the children.
57. ABIGAIL ADAMS.
Braintree, 31 July, 1775.
I do not feel easy more than two days together without writing to you. If you abound, you must lay some of the fault upon yourself, who have made such sad complaints for letters, but I really believe I have written more than all my sister delegates. There is nothing new transpired since I wrote you last, but the sailing of some transports, and five deserters having come into our camp. One of them is gone, I hear, to Philadelphia. I think I should be cautious of him. No one can tell the secret designs of such fellows, whom no oath binds. He may be sent with assassinating designs. I can credit any villainy that a Caesar Borgia would have been guilty of, or Satan himself would rejoice in. Those who do not scruple to bring poverty, misery, slavery, and death upon thousands will not hesitate at the most diabolical crimes; and this is Britain! Blush, O Americans, that ever you derived your origin from such a race.
We learn from one of these deserters that our ever-valued friend Warren, dear to us even in death, was not treated with any more respect than a common soldier; but the savage wretches, called officers, consulted together, and agreed to sever his head from his body and carry it in triumph to Gage, who no doubt would have "grinned horribly a ghastly smile," instead of imitating Caesar, who, far from being gratified with so horrid a spectacle as the head even of his enemy, turned away from Pompey's with disgust, and gave vent to his pity in a flood of tears. How much does Pagan tenderness put Christian benevolence to shame! What humanity could not obtain, the rites and ceremonies of a Mason demanded. An officer, who it seems was one of the brotherhood, requested that as a Mason he might have the body unmangled, and find a decent interment for it. He obtained his request, but upon returning to secure it, he found it already thrown into the earth, only with the ceremony of being first placed there with many bodies over it.
"Nor writ his name, whose tomb should pierce the skies."
"Glows my resentment into guilt? What guilt Can equal violations of the dead? The dead how sacred! Sacred is the dust Of this heaven-labored form, erect, divine! This heaven-assumed, majestic robe of earth."
2 August.
Thus far I wrote, and broke off; hearing there was a probability of your return I thought not to send it; but the reception of yours this morning, of July 23d, makes me think the day further off than I hoped. I therefore will add a few lines, though very unfit. I went out yesterday to attend the funeral of the poor fellow who, the night before, fell in battle, as they were returning from the Lighthouse. I caught some cold. Sabbath evening there was a warm fire from Prospect Hill and Bunker's Hill, begun first by the riflemen taking off their guard. Two men upon our side were killed; five of their guards were killed, two taken. I believe my account will be very confused, but I will relate it as well as I am able.[96] Sabbath evening a number of men, in whaleboats, went off from Squantum and Dorchester to the Lighthouse, where the General, Gage, had again fixed up a lamp, and sent twelve carpenters to repair it. Our people went on amidst a hot fire from thirty marines, who were placed there as a guard to the Tory carpenters, burnt the dwelling-house, took the Tories and twenty-eight marines, killed the lieutenant and one man, brought off all the oil and stores which were sent, without the loss of a man, until they were upon their return, when they were so closely pursued that they were obliged to run one whaleboat ashore, and leave her to them; the rest arrived safe, except the unhappy youth whose funeral I yesterday attended, who received a ball through the temple as he was rowing the boat. He belonged to Rhode Island. His name was Griffin. He, with four wounded marines, was brought by Captain Turner to Germantown, and buried from there with the honors of war. Mr. Wibird, upon the occasion, made the best oration (he never prays, you know) I ever heard from him. The poor wounded fellows (who were all wounded in their arms) desired they might attend. They did, and he very pathetically addressed them, with which they appeared affected. I spoke with them,--I told them it was very unhappy that they should be obliged to fight their best friends. They said they were sorry; they hoped in God an end would be speedily put to the unhappy contest; when they came, they came in the way of their duty, to relieve Admiral Montague, with no thought of fighting, but their situation was such as obliged them to obey orders; but they wished, with all their souls, that they that sent them here had been in the heat of the battle; expressed gratitude at the kindness they received; and said, in that they had been deceived, for they were told, if they were taken alive they would be sacrificed by us. Dr. Tufts dressed their wounds.
I had a design to write something about a talked-of appointment of a friend of mine to a judicial department,[97] but hope soon to see that friend before his acceptance may be necessary. I inclose a compliment, copied by a gentleman from a piece in the Worcester paper, signed "Lycurgus."