Part 6 (1/2)
[11] Author unknown.
[12] ”History of the United States of America.” Bancroft.
[13] ”The American Revolution.” Trevelyan.
CHAPTER V
AFTER LEXINGTON
ON October 28th, Mr. Adams set out on his return homeward. The Diary reads:
”Took our departure, in a very great rain, from the happy, the peaceful, the elegant, the hospitable, and polite city of Philadelphia. It is not very likely that I shall ever see this part of the world again, but I shall ever retain a most grateful, pleasing sense of the many civilities I have received in it, and shall think myself happy to have an opportunity of returning them.”
John Adams was to see a good deal more of Philadelphia; but he spent this winter of 1774-5 at home with Portia and the four children, happily, so far as home life went, but beset by anxieties and tasks. He was immediately elected into the Provincial Congress; besides this, he was writing weekly letters, signed ”Novanglus,” for the Boston _Gazette_, important letters answering those of ”Ma.s.sachusettensis” in Draper's paper, which ”were conducted with a subtlety of art and address wonderfully calculated to keep up the spirits of their party, to depress ours, to spread intimidation, and to make proselytes among those whose principles and judgment give way to their fears; and these compose at least one-third of mankind.” Mr. Adams notes soberly that ”in New England, they [his own letters] had the effect of an antidote to the poison of Ma.s.sachusettensis, and,” he adds, ”the battle of Lexington, on the 19th of April, changed the instruments of warfare from the pen to the sword.”
Abigail, naturally, has nothing to say about Lexington and Concord; how should she? Her John was at home with her, and she kept no diary. But John _might_ have given us a word about Paul Revere and the rising of the countryside, about the gathering of the minute-men on that green over which ”the smoke of the battle still seems to hang”: might have mentioned at least that toy pistol of Major Pitcairn's--a pretty thing, gold and mother-of-pearl, given him by admiring friends--which we are told fired the actual first shot of the Revolution, provoking that other which was ”heard round the world”: he might have told--as his son, long years after when he was President of the United States, loved to tell--how, the day after the battle, the minute-men came, and took Mrs.
Adams' pewter spoons to melt them into bullets: but no!
”A few days after this event,” he says, ”I rode to Cambridge, where I saw General Ward, General Heath, General Joseph Warren, and the New England army. There was great confusion and much distress. Artillery, arms, clothing were wanting, and a sufficient supply of provisions not easily obtained. Neither the officers nor men, however, wanted spirits or resolution. I rode from thence to Lexington, and along the scene of action for many miles, and inquired of the inhabitants the circ.u.mstances. These were not calculated to diminish my ardor in the cause; they, on the contrary, convinced me that the die was cast, the Rubicon pa.s.sed, and, as Lord Mansfield expressed it in Parliament, if we did not defend ourselves, they would kill us. On my return home, I was seized with a fever, attended with alarming symptoms; but the time was come to repair to Philadelphia to Congress, which was to meet on the fifth of May. I was determined to go as far as I could, and instead of venturing on horseback, as I had intended, I got into a sulky, attended by a servant on horseback, and proceeded on the journey.”
This was an anxious journey for Mr. Adams, knowing as he did, that he was leaving his beloved family exposed to many and grave dangers.
Parliament had, in February, 1775, declared the Colony of Ma.s.sachusetts to be in a state of rebellion, and things went from bad to worse in Boston. The following letter gives the full measure of his anxiety:
”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. G.o.d grant that the furnace of affliction may refine them. G.o.d 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.”
”Fly to the woods with our children”! The words tell only too plainly how terrible was the danger the writer apprehended. The woods were--or at any moment might be--full of prowling savages, from whom no mercy could be expected; yet John Adams would choose to run this risk rather than others that threatened, or seemed to threaten, his dear ones. One feels through all the years the thrill of his anxiety.
”For the s.p.a.ce of twelve months,” says John Quincy Adams, ”my mother with her infant children dwelt liable every hour of the day and night to be butchered in cold blood or taken into Boston as hostages by any foraging or marauding detachment of men like that actually sent forth on the 19th of April to capture John Hanc.o.c.k and Samuel Adams, on their way to attend the Continental Congress at Philadelphia. My father was separated from his family on his way to attend the same congress, and then my mother and her children lived in unintermitted danger of being consumed with them all in a conflagration kindled by a torch in the same hands which on the 17th of June lighted the fires of Charlestown.”
Abigail, in Braintree, no longer ”calm and happy,” laments over the sufferings of her friends and former neighbors.
”5 May, 1775.
”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 pa.s.ses, make them wait from hour to hour, and their counsels are not two hours 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.”
”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. 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.