Biographical Sketches of the Signers of the Declaration of Independence representing New Jersey - Part 4

RICHARD STOCKTON

Engraved by Ole Erekson; Library of Congress photo

          Richard Stockton was born in Princeton, New Jersey on 1 October 1730.  He was educated first at Nottingham Academy in Rising Sun, Maryland, and then at the College of New Jersey in Newark.  He graduated from the latter in 1748 and was admitted to the bar in 1754.  Stockton's rise was fairly quick from this time forward.  In 1755 he married Annis Boudinot. [1]  The couple had six children.

          In 1756, the College of New Jersey was moved from Newark to Princeton, with much assistance from Stockton and his family.  A fellow trustee at the college, the Reverend Doctor John Rodgers called Stockton a gentleman, scholar and the head of his profession in New Jersey. [2]  In 1768 Stockton began a term on New Jersey's Provincial Council, a position that he held until June 1776.  In 1773, he wrote to Lord Dartmouth [3] a piece called An Expedient for the Settlement of the American Dispute.[4]  In 1774 Stockton was named an associate justice to the state Supreme Court, a position which he also held until June 1776.

          In 1776, Stockton was sent to the General Congress in Philadelphia as a delegate from New Jersey.  Though initially doubtful of an immediate declaration of independence, he quickly changed his mind and voted in favor of independence after considering the arguments of other Congressmen.

[5]  Stockton was the first man to sign for the state of New Jersey when the time arrived to declare independence.

          In September 1776, Stockton received an equal number of votes as William Livingston for governor of New Jersey, but after further discussion Livingston was awarded the position.  Stockton was soon on the run, anyhow.  When the British moved into Princeton in 1776, Stockton's home, Morven, was ransacked by the redcoats.  His books and most of his furnishings were destroyed.  Luckily, Stockton had removed his wife and children from the area earlier, fearing the worst.  Though our signer initially escaped to the home of a friend, John Covenhoven, about thirty miles east of Princeton, the British caught up with him on 30 November 1776. [6]  He was imprisoned first in the common jail of Amboy by the British, but later moved to the more deplorable conditions at the old Provost prison in New York City.  Stockton was abused by his captors, suffering from cold and starvation at the least.

                                    Morven - the home of Richard Stockton in Princeton, NJ. Photo by the author

Once Stockton was exchanged, he came home a broken man.  Ill in health (besides his ill treatment by the British, he probably had cancer) and poor in wealth, Stockton died at home on 28 February 1781.  He was buried at the Stoney Brook Quaker Burial Ground in Princeton.  He is also honored

with a statue in National Statuary Hall in the U.S. Capitol Building in Washington, D.C. - only one of six signers to be so honored.  Stockton also had a college named in his honor; Richard Stockton College of New Jersey, located in Galloway Twp., was founded in 1969.

          The Stockton's first born child, Julia, married Benjamin Rush, another signer of the Declaration of Independence, and a well-known physician of the time period, especially in Philadelphia.  Two of Stockton's sons obtained political success.  His son Richard was a U.S. Senator from New Jersey, while another son, Robert Field Stockton, served as a Commodore in the War of 1812, was the first military governor of California in 1846 and was also a New Jersey Senator.

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[1] Annis was the sister of Elias Boudinot.  Elias served as commissary general of prisoners in the Revolutionary Army from 1776 until 1779.  He was a member of the Continental Congress in 1778, and from 1781 until 1783.  He served as President of that body from November 1782 to November 1783.  After signing the Treaty of Paris with England, ending the war, he resumed his law practice, but in 1789 he was elected to the first U.S. Congress.  He was twice reelected, serving until 1795, at which time he was named third Director of the U.S. Mint.  He remained as Director until 1805, when he resigned.  Elias Boudinot died in 1821.

[2] Cunningham, John T. Five Who Signed. Trenton: NJ Historical Commission, 1975; 13.

[3] Secretary of State for the Colonies from 1772 to 1775

[4] The writing was a plan for self-government in the colonies; though they would be independent of Parliament, they would still remain loyal to the Crown.

[5] Lossing, Benson J. Biographical Sketches of the Signers of the Declaration of American Independence. New York: Derby & Jackson, 1859; 79.

[6] Ibid., 51.

Biographical Sketches of the Signers of the Declaration of Independence representing New Jersey - Part 3

FRANCIS HOPKINSON

Francis Hopkinson by Robert Edge Pine

Francis Hopkinson may be the most accomplished of the signers of the Declaration of Independence from New Jersey.  Born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania on September 21, 1737,[1] Hopkinson became an author and poet; a song-writer and musician; a lawyer and judge; an artist and Congressman.  As an ardent Patriot, he played a role in the founding of the United States politically and culturally - he is credited with having a hand in the design of the first American flag and the designs of the seal of the State of New Jersey and the Great Seal of the United States.[2]

Francis’ father, Thomas, was a merchant, lawyer and judge in Pennsylvania, as well as a friend of Benjamin Franklin.  In the latter capacity, Thomas also dabbled in electrical experiments.  He founded the Academy of Philadelphia (which later became the College of Philadelphia, and later the University of Pennsylvania) as well as the Library Company, and he was the first President of the American Philosophical Society.[3]   It is no wonder then, that before his death in 1751, Thomas enrolled fourteen-year-old Francis in the College of Philadelphia.  With his mother Mary’s blessing, Francis continued his education after his father’s death, earning his degree in 1757.

It appears that Hopkinson began composing music before his graduation from college - an Ode to Music was composed in 1754.[4]  After graduation, though, while still composing and writing, Hopkinson studied law under Benjamin Chew, the attorney general of Pennsylvania. During this time he wrote “My Days Have Been So Wondrous Free” (1759), thought to be the first secular music composition in America. In 1761 he joined the bar and in 1763 was appointed customs collector at Salem, New Jersey.  Between 1757 and 1763, Hopkinson was busy with his pen, contributing essays, poems and satirical writings to various periodicals.  In 1766, Hopkinson traveled to England for a year-long stay in which he met a number of prominent individuals, including Benjamin Franklin, Lord North and the painter Benjamin West.  Upon his return to North America, Hopkinson married Ann Borden in 1768.  She was the daughter of Colonel Joseph Borden, a leading merchant from Bordentown, New Jersey.  The couple would have five children.[5]

            In 1772, Hopkinson was appointed customs collector at New Castle, Delaware, though he was settled and practicing law in Bordentown by 1774.  In the same year, he was selected to be a member of the Provincial Council of New Jersey.  Pamphlets that he wrote during this time were filled with attacks on the British and on loyalists in the colonies.  In 1776, Hopkinson was elected an associate justice of the Supreme Court of New Jersey, but he declined that office and instead accepted appointment to the Continental Congress meeting in Philadelphia.  Sometime before the signing of the Declaration of Independence, Hopkinson wrote “The Prophecy,” an essay predicting the formal break of the colonies from England.[6]  While serving in the Congress from 22 June to 30 November 1776, Hopkinson also served on the Navy Board.

            During the winter of 1777 - 1778, an inventor by the name of David Bushnell caused quite a stir on the Delaware River.[7]  Bushnell filled barrels with gunpowder which were set to explode upon touching anything.  These he set afloat on the Delaware River north of Philadelphia, with the hope that as they fell downriver among the British ships, they would strike and damage or destroy the shipping.  Though some of the barrels did explode, the experiment did not have the desired effect.  The event did cause much excitement and anxiety among the British in Philadelphia, however.  A satirical letter was published in the Pennsylvania Ledger on 11 February 1778, and is believed to be written by Hopkinson.  The account is as follows:

Both officers and men exhibited the most unparalleled skill and bravery on the occasion; whilst the citizens stood gazing as solemn witnesses of their prowess. From the Roebuck and other ships of war, whole broadsides were poured into the Delaware. In short, not a wandering chip, stick, or drift log, but felt the vigour of the British arms. The action began about sun-rise, and would have been compleated with great success by noon, had not an old market woman coming down the river with provisions, unfortunately let a small keg of butter fall over-board, which (as it was then ebb) floated down to the scene of the action. At the sight of this unexpected reinforcement of the enemy, the battle was renewed with fresh fury–the firing was incessant till the evening closed the affair. The kegs were either totally demolished or obliged to fly, as none of them have shewn their heads since. It is said his Excellency Lord Howe has dispatched a swift sailing packet with an account of this victory to the court of London. In a word, Monday, the 5th of January, 1778, must ever be distinguished in history, for the memorable BATTLE OF THE KEGS.”[8]

 

The Battle of the Kegs from the UPenn archives

At a later date, Hopkinson also wrote a ballad of the event, to be sung to the tune of Yankee Doodle.

The Hopkinson House is currently a privately owned building

located at 101 Farnsworth Ave. in Bordentown, NJ.

            In 1776 and 1777, the British stationed in Bordentown raided and plundered Hopkinson’s Bordentown home.  Hopkinson was not to be found, however, and in 1778 he was again elected a member of the Congress and served as Treasurer of the Continental Loan Office.  In 1779 and 1780, Hopkinson served as a judge on the Admiralty Court of Pennsylvania.  During this time, Hopkinson was also at work designing or assisting in the design of, among other things, the Board of Admiralty seal, the Treasury Board seal, the seal of the state of New Jersey, the Great Seal of the United States and the flag of the United States, though in the case of the latter two some speculation remains.  Hopkinson’s design for the Great Seal was the second one submitted to Congress, which did not grant its approval.  A third committee, with the assistance of Congressional secretary Charles Thomson, created a third design, which was finally accepted and is still in use today.[9]  Thomson’s design borrowed key elements from Hopkinson’s design, including the striped shield and the field of stars.  As for the design of the flag of the United States, the only surviving record of any kind comes from a letter dated 25 May 1780, from Hopkinson to the Continental Board of Admiralty, where he mentioned “the Flag of the United States of America” among the many other patriotic designs he had completed over the course of the previous three years.  There is no mention of the exact design, but neither is there any mention in the historical record of any other person coming forward to claim ownership of the creation.[10]

Click on image to enlarge.

            Following the end of the Revolutionary War, Hopkinson remained active in the politics of the new nation.  He continued to serve on the Admiralty Court until 1787, when he became a member of the Constitutional Convention which ratified the Constitution of the United States.  In 1789, President Washington appointed Hopkinson as a judge of the United States District Court for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania, where he remained until his death on 9 May 1791.  Hopkinson, possibly the most artistic signer of the Declaration of Independence, is buried in Christ Church Cemetery in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

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[1] United States Congress. Hopkinson, Francis, (1737 - 1791). n.d. http://bioguide.congress.gov/scripts/biodisplay.pl?index=H000783 (accessed March 3, 2012).

[2] University of Pennsylvania University Archives and Records Center. Francis Hopkinson (1737-1791). 2012. http://www.archives.upenn.edu/people/1700s/hopkinson_thos.html (accessed March 3, 2012).

[3] University of Pennsylvania University Archives and Records Center. Thomas Hopkinson (1709-1751). 2012. http://www.archives.upenn.edu/people/1700s/hopkinson_thos.html (accessed March 3, 2012).

[4] Library of Congress. Francis Hopkinson, 1737-1791. August 10, 2006. http://lcweb2.loc.gov/diglib/ihas/loc.natlib.ihas.200035713/default.html (accessed March 3, 2012).

[5] Cunningham, John T. Five Who Signed. Trenton: NJ Historical Commission, 1975; 20.

[6] Ibid., 21.

[7] For more information on Bushnell and his inventions, see my post, “David Bushnell”: http://dansamericanrevolutionblog.blogspot.com/2009/06/david-bushnell-is-credited-with.html.  Hopkinson’s essay regarding this event can be found in the Bushnell article, but has also been reprinted here.

[8] Naval Documents of the American Revolution Vol. 11. ed. Michael J. Crawford. Department of the Navy, Washington, DC, 2005; 78.

[9] The first design was submitted by a committee consisting of John Adams, Thomas Jefferson and Benjamin Franklin, and was the work of a Swiss-born painter named Pierre Eugene du Simitiere.  The committee working with Hopkinson was appointed on 25 March 1780 and was composed of James Lovell (from Massachusetts), John Moris Scott (New York) and William Churchill Houston (NJ).  The third committee consisted of Arthur Middleton (South Carolina), John Rutledge (South Carolina) and Elias Boudinot (New Jersey).  William Barton, a Philadelphia lawyer and scholar, then edited Thomson’s design.  This committee’s design was accepted on 20 June 1781.

[10] Leepson, Marc. Flag: An American Biography, New York: Thomas Dunne Books, 2005; 30-31, 33.

For Love and Country: John and Abigail Adams and the United States of America, part 12

1797 - 1801

“I think of you and dream of you and long to be with you. But I Suppose this must not be yet.”

--John Adams to Abigail Adams from Philadelphia, January 11, 1797 (Adams Family Papers, Correspondence)

The country found out in December 1796 that John Adams had defeated Thomas Jefferson by a whisker for the office of President of the United States.  The highest office in the land now belonged to, arguably, the United States’ leading patriot.  The duty he performed in the name of his country, the sacrifices he had made since the 1770s, the many travels, propelled John to the position he had been aiming for, despite his writings to the contrary.  The victory for Adams meant that he would have to spend time away from Abigail once more, but she did not mind.

John was in Philadelphia, while Abigail remained in Quincy because she was in ill health.  In early January, John wrote home, “I am, with anxious desires to see you, which I fear cannot be gratified before July.”  Abigail wrote almost at the same time, “The Cold has been more severe than I can ever before recollect. It has frozen the ink in my pen, and chilld the Blood in my veins, but not the Warmth of my affection for Him for whom my Heart Beats with unabated ardor through all the changes and visisitudes of Life” (Adams Family Papers, Correspondence 14 Jan 1797, 15 Jan 1797).  The time away from each other affected John and Abigail as much as it did when John was in Europe.

On March 4, 1797, John Adams was inaugurated second President of the United States of America.  Abigail was not there, although she was no less proud of her husband.  Less than two weeks after the inauguration, John began writing to Abigail about how he missed her.  First, he wrote, “I can not live without you till October,” which was when Abigail was supposed to arrive in Philadelphia.  Days later, he wrote, “I never wanted your Advice and assistance more in my Life.”  At the beginning of April he became more desperate in his pleas.  “I have written you before and have only time now to repeat that I pray you to come on,” he wrote.  Two days later he urged her, “I pray you to come on immediately.  I will not live in this State of Separation.  Leave the Place[. . .]to any body or nobody.  I care nothing about it – But you, I must and will have” (qtd. in Gelles 128).  He continued with this request every few days in letters to Abigail. 

It would be late April before Abigail began her journey to Philadelphia.  She wrote to John from Springfield, Massachusetts as she was on her way, “I come to place my head upon your Bosom and to receive and give that consolation which sympathetick hearts alone know how to communicate.”  John responded to her before she arrived, without concealing what lay ahead, “You and I are now entering on a new Scene, which will be the most difficult, and least agreable of any in our Lives. I hope the burthen will be lighter to both of Us, when We come together” (Adams Family Papers, Correspondence 30 Apr 1797, 4 May 1797).  John would face many struggles over the next few years, and Abigail would be there beside him through the grueling times, defending her husband along the way.

In March 1798, John found out about the French attempts to bribe American diplomats.  The events, which became known as the XYZ Affair (the French agents were initially known as X, Y and Z), led to a quasi-war with France.  In May, with fear of a general war breaking out, Adams proposed the creation of a Department of the Navy to Congress.  Congress approved the plan, and the Navy became one of John’s proudest achievements.  The Affair and Adams’ response to it, however, created some animosity in the nation.  The press published scathing columns against Adams.  This angered both Abigail and John, who felt John should be above such commentary because of his patriotic track record.  Adams charged that French agents in the United States were behind such reports and that they were hoping to tear the new nation apart.  With Abigail’s support, John signed the Alien and Sedition Acts.  This decision was probably the worst made by Adams in his political life. 

The acts, intended to prevent criticism of the government, were seen by many as unconstitutional.  Most likely, the Acts cost Adams re-election to the Presidency in 1800.  Despite that, John and Abigail stood together behind the decision.  With Abigail back in Quincy for the winter, they exchanged letters on politics.  “With respect to what is past,” Abigail wrote at the end of the year,

all was intended for the best, and you have the Satisfaction of knowing that you have faithfully served your generation, that you have done it at the expence of all private Considerations and you do not know whether you would have been a happier Man in private, than you have been in publick Life. The exigencies of the times were such as call'd you forth. You considerd yourself as performing your duty. With these considerations, I think you have not any cause for regret. (Adams Family Papers, Correspondence 28 Dec 1798)

Abigail stood by John and his decisions until the end of his political career, which was fast approaching.

            Most of the years 1799 and 1800, John and Abigail would spend together, attending to the business of the President and First Lady.  On November 1, 1800, John Adams became the first President to live in the President’s House in the new city of Washington.  The word city is used lightly, as most of the federal buildings, including the President’s House were not yet completed, housing scarcely existed, and shacks housing workers were all over the city, including on the President’s front lawn.  Abigail joined John in the middle of November, but their time in Washington would be short-lived. 

In December, John found out that he had been defeated for the Presidency.  Thomas Jefferson won the election and Aaron Burr finished second in the voting, making him Vice President.  In a final controversial move, John appointed members of his party to judicial posts in January and February, before Jefferson came into office in March.  Four years later, Jefferson wrote Abigail that he considered those appointments “personally unkind.”  Abigail, as always, defended her husband by informing Jefferson that the appointments were perfectly legal and were “not intended to give any personal pain of offence” (Cappon, I. 270, 271).  John left Washington the night before Jefferson’s inauguration on March 4, 1801.  He and Abigail would finally get to spend time together, with John out of politics and able to concentrate his time and energy on his family and farm.  John, in fact, had written to her in January, “I must be farmer John of Stoneyfield [his farm] and nothing more (I hope nothing less) for the rest of my life” (qtd. in McCullough 559).  Despite some difficult times, John Adams had served his country for over twenty-five years. 

For Love and Country: John and Abigail Adams and the United States of America, part 11

1788 - 1796 

“I long to be at home, but I dare not ask leave to go. The Times are too critical for any Man to quit his Post without the most urgent necessity.”

--John Adams to Abigail Adams from Philadelphia, April 1, 1794 (Adams Family Papers, Correspondence)

The new government of the United States was being established as John and Abigail were arriving back home.  John served as the first Vice President of the new nation under George Washington.  The capital was first in New York City, then in Philadelphia.*  Abigail was with John for his first four years, setting up the houses and entertaining guests.  John was dissatisfied with his position, but he served a second term after being elected.  Abigail remained in Massachusetts for the entire second term as Vice President to save money and to avoid endangering her often fragile health. 

Upon their arrival back in Massachusetts, John and Abigail moved into a new home in Quincy (which is now part of the Adams National Historical Park).  Their furniture arrived from Europe, but soon after it was unloaded from the ship and moved into the house, John was on his way to New York.  In March 1789, John Adams was elected to be the first Vice President of the United States of America, second only to George Washington, the great victorious general of the Revolution.  He took the oath of office on April 21 in New York City.  By May, he was writing to Abigail of the problems he was facing.  “I have as many difficulties here, as you can have; public and private, but my Life from my Cradle has been a series of difficulties and that series will continue to the Grave,” he wrote on May 14^th.  Two weeks later, he complained that he must live “in a Style much below our Rank and station” because of the high costs in the city (Adams Family Papers, Correspondence 14 May 1789, 30 May 1789).  A week onwards from there, John wrote to Abigail again.  “I must now most Seriously request you to come on to me as soon as conveniently you can,” he told Abigail.  “Never did I want your assistance more than at present” (Adams Family Papers, Correspondence 6 Jun 1789).  Not only was John occupied setting up his house, entertaining guests and fulfilling the demands of his job, but he was also unwell.  Abigail did go to New York, and she followed to Philadelphia when the United States capital was moved to there in 1790 and would remain with John through most of his first term as Vice President.

John was never happy with the position of Vice President.  He found it a superfluous position and he aimed for the Presidency.  “Four years more will be as long as I shall have a Taste for public Life or Journeys to Philadelphia,” he wrote to Abigail just before he was re-elected to the Vice Presidency.  “I am determined in the meantime to be no longer the Dupe, and run into Debt to Support a vain Post which has answered no other End than to make me unpopular” (Adams Family Papers, Correspondence 28 Dec 1792).  After John’s re-election to the post, Abigail remained in Quincy (as Braintree had been renamed) throughout the entire term.  John was able to be home half of the time, as Congress was only in session about six months of the year.  The state of their health as well as the high cost of living in Philadelphia were both considerations for this choice (Withey 223, McCullough 440). 

During his second term, with Abigail away from him, the letter-writing between them picked up again.  John wrote of how he wished to be home with Abigail, but he also wrote detailed directions regarding the running of the farm or other business.  She, in turn, wrote of how she missed him and included her own detailed responses of information regarding the business at home. 

Halfway through his second term, John wrote home, “My forces of Mind and Body are nearly spent. Few Years remain for me, if any. In public Life probably fewer still, If I could leave my Country in greater Security, I should retire with Pleasure.”  Another letter followed, with John wishing to leave, but excusing himself for staying, until at least the fourth of March lest “I shall be charged with deserting the President, forsaking the secretary of State, betraying my friend Jay, abandoning my Post and sacrificing my Country to a weak Attachment to a Woman and a weaker fondness for my farm” (Adams Family Papers, Correspondence 16 Jan 1795, 2 Feb 1795).  As he had for the past twenty years, John was claiming he was almost done with the political life; he was ready to come home.  Yet he maintained that he had to delay that wish in the name of serving his country that needed him.

The next year, when John found out that George Washington was most likely stepping down after his term was over, John wondered what his duty would demand of him.  “It is no light thing to resolve upon Retirement,” he wrote to Abigail.  He continued, “I love my Country too well to shrink from Danger in her service provided I have a reasonable prospect of being able to serve her to her honour and Advantage,” meaning that if he won the Presidency, he must take it, but if he won a lower position, especially the Vice Presidency again under someone he did not agree with, he should refuse in the interest of the country.  “The Probability is strong that I shall make a voluntary Retreat and spend the rest of my days in a very humble Style with you,” he wrote to Abigail. “Of one Thing I am very sure. It would be to me the happiest Portion of my whole Life” (Adams Family Papers, Correspondence 7 Jan 1796).  This was not to be.  John Adams would be called on to serve his country one last time.

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* The federal capital was in New York City from George Washington’s inauguration as President of the United States on March 4, 1789 until August 1790, when it moved to Philadelphia.  The capital moved again in 1800, this time to the newly created city on the banks of the Potomac River, which is present-day Washington, D.C.

For Love and Country: John and Abigail Adams and the United States of America, part 6

1776 - 1777

“O the fatal Ideas which are connected with the sound [of cannon]. How many of our dear country men must fall?”

--Abigail Adams to John Adams, March 4, 1776 (Butterfield, I. 353)

            The new year would be a significant year for the American Colonies and John was a big part of that.  In July, the Colonies declared themselves independent from Great Britain in a document that John assisted in drafting.  He was directly involved in the creation of the country which he loved.  The highs of the first part of 1776 - the evacuation of the British from Boston and the signing of the Declaration of Independence among them - were dampened by military defeats in the field in the second half of the year.  Military victories by the Americans in the last week of 1776 and early 1777 raised the spirits of the country again, but the ups and downs would continue for both the country and John.  In July 1777, Abigail gave birth to a stillborn child and in September John and the rest of the Congress had to evacuate Philadelphia with the British on their heels.  The Americans had another substantial military victory in October, but the British still occupied the capital of Philadelphia.  Through all of the events, John remained in the service of his country and in communication with his wife.

 John left Braintree on January 21, 1776 and arrived in Philadelphia on February 8^th.  Abigail’s letters to him, as usual, would be filled with details of family and friends, small amounts of intelligence and accounts of events.  From March 2^nd through the 4^th, there was much action surrounding Dorchester Heights, just outside of Boston.  Abigail again went up to Penn’s Hill to “hear the amazing roar of cannon” and “see every shell which was thrown” (Butterfield, I. 353).  The British would leave Boston Harbor shortly thereafter.

            The victory confirmed to John that he was doing the right thing.  “My own [interests] have never been considered by me, in Competition with theirs [his fellow Citizens],” he wrote to Abigail after Dorchester Heights.  “My Ease, my domestic Happiness, my rural Pleasures, my Little Property, my personal Liberty, my Reputation, my Life, have little Weight and ever had, in my own Estimation, in Comparison of the great Object of my Country” (Butterfield, I. 363).  John was never in doubt that he was making the right choice in serving his country, and the victory reaffirmed that sacrifices were required in order to secure the freedom of the country, however long it might take.

Abigail was having a hard time, however, without John.  She missed him and did not think she was competent enough to handle all of the chores related to the farm, land, and household and whatever items of John’s that needed to be cared for (Butterfield, I. 375).  Abigail, however, never asked John to quit his public life and return to his private.  In her letters, she now signed herself “Portia” after the long-suffering wife of Brutus, the ancient Roman statesman (McCullough 26), implying that just as Portia bore all of Brutus’ fortunes, good and bad, Abigail would likewise do with John.

            John was appointed to a committee that would draft a “declaration of independency.”  Despite the many hours John spent in Congress, he thought often about Abigail, sometimes writing while working.  “Is there no Way for two friendly Souls, to converse together, altho the Bodies are 400 Miles off?–Yes by Letter–But I want a better Communication.  I want to hear you think, or to see your Thoughts,” he wrote to her.  “Instead of domestic Felicity, I am destined to public Contentions.” (Butterfield, I. 400, 399).  Abigail, never at a loss for words, replied, “All domestick pleasures and injoyments are absorbed in the great and important duty you owe your Country.”  And never forgetting to let John know how much she missed him, she added, “Thus do I supress every wish, and silence every Murmer, acquiesceing in a painfull Seperation from the companion of my youth, and the Friend of my Heart” (Butterfield, I. 402).

            Although Abigail was usually more sentimental and showed her love for John in words more often than he did, he was not short on his expressions of love for her.  “Among all the Disappointments, and Perplexities, which have fallen to my share in Life, nothing has contributed so much to support my Mind, as the choice Blessing of a Wife,” he wrote to her at the end of May. “This has been the cheering Consolation of my Heart, in my most solitary, gloomy and disconsolate Hours.”  John let her know how often he thought of her and how he wanted to be with her and the children.  “I want to take a Walk with you in the Garden–to go over to the Common–the Plain–the Meadow.  I want to take Charles in one Hand and John upon my left, to view the Corn Fields, the orchards, &c.” (Butterfield, I. 412, 413).  Such emotion shown by John in his letters delighted Abigail.

            The letters meant so much to each of them, and with events changing rapidly around them, John purchased a blank folio book at the store of William Trickett, a stationer on Front Street in Philadelphia, and began to make copies of all of his letters (Butterfield, Book 135).  Abigail had already been saving all of John’s letters, and John had been saving all of Abigail’s, but with the outbreak of war, the post would not be as reliable, and John did not want to lose a single letter.  The letters had intense sentimental value, but John and Abigail may have also sensed that they were in the process of watching and making history.

            After the Declaration of Independence was signed in July 1776, John wrote a letter home to Abigail letting her know the good news.  Abigail wrote back, “Tho your Letters never fail to give me pleasure, be the subject what it will, yet it was greatly heightened by the prospect of the future happiness and glory of our Country.”   She also informed him that she and the children were sick from the smallpox inoculation they had received (Butterfield, II. 46).  John was upset at the news.  He did not like that Abigail did not inform him of the family receiving the dangerous inoculation and he was not happy that he was not there with his family.  He could not leave, though, and he let her know that now, more than ever, he was needed in Philadelphia for the good of the country.  Abigail would understand and would explain that was why she did not tell him sooner (Butterfield, II. 50).  Again, John and Abigail both sacrificed for their country, but their commitment to each other remained as strong as ever.

            The time away wore on each of them.  Abigail spent stormy days reading old letters John had sent her.  She spent her nights before falling asleep thinking about John and when they could be together again.  John, for his part, also reflected on time he spent with Abigail.  Month after month he would write of the sadness he had of being away from her, especially leaving her in January, knowing she was pregnant again (John). “When I reflect upon the Prospect before me of so long an Absence from all that I hold dear in this World[. . .]it makes me melancholy,” John wrote in February.  And his feelings continued into March; “I want to wander, in my Meadows, to ramble over my Mountains, and to sit in Solitude, or with her who has all my Heart, by the side of the Brooks” (Butterfield, II. 153, 176). 

            By summer, John was at a loss.  He missed home and he felt as if he was accomplishing nothing in Philadelphia. “Next Month completes Three Years, that I have been devoted to the Servitude of Liberty.  A slavery it has been to me, whatever the World may think of it,” John wrote.  “To a Man, whose Attachments to his Family, are as strong as mine, Absence alone from such a Wife and such Children, would be a great sacrifice.  But in addition to this Seperation, what have I not done?  What have I not suffered?  What have I not hazarded?”  (Butterfield, II. 153, 276-277).  Furthermore, he was to find out that Abigail was sick again.  John wrote her again, expressing his concern and wishing he could be near her, even if he could only say a few kind words.  He wished that he could relieve her of all her pain.  He wanted to be at her side.  Bad news would follow again, less than a week later.  On July 16, 1777, John received a letter from Abigail explaining that she was okay, but the child had been stillborn.  John was grateful that Abigail had made it through, but was devastated at the loss of their child.  Still, John did not leave Philadelphia and his country, and Abigail did not ask him to do any such thing.

            As sorrow struck their lives and things were becoming more intense in the Colonies, John wrote to Abigail as much as to future readers. “Posterity!  You will never know, how much it cost the present Generation, to preserve your Freedom!  I hope you will make a good Use of it” (Butterfield, II. 153, 224).  He kept Abigail informed on the events surrounding him, and she did the same.  Letters between the two included their usual expressions of love for each other, but also contained military maneuvers, politics, and news about friends, family and other important people.  Their relationship and their country were woven into their letters.

            In September, the Congress was forced to evacuate Philadelphia to York, as the British moved in and occupied the Colonial capital.  John, in his letters, as he had always done, reported to Abigail the layout of towns he passed through and the people that inhabited them.  October marked thirteen years of marriage for John and Abigail, three of which they spent apart.  Reflecting on this, Abigail wrote to John that she has only endured the separation because she believed John was doing the right thing in serving his country.  She hoped the present generation would see his sacrifices and that future generations would understand what he was doing and why he was doing it.  This was why she was willing to give him up for so long.  Neither was aware that soon he would be much further away for a much longer time.