Stephen Kemble: A Jersey Boy in the British Army

           Stephen Kemble, the fifth child of Peter Kemble and his first wife, Gertrude Bayard, was born in New Brunswick, New Jersey in 1740.  Related to influential and politically powerful families of New York, the Kembles remained loyal to the British during the Revolutionary period.  Stephen attended college in Philadelphia and accepted an ensign commission in the British Army, joining the 44^th Regiment of Foot in 1757.  The following year his sister, Margaret, married a British lieutenant on the rise – Thomas Gage – who had been recruiting for the British Army in New Jersey.  

           After fighting with William Howe at Ticonderoga during the French and Indian War, Kemble was promoted to captain of the First Battalion of the 60^th Regiment.  In 1759, Thomas Gage, was promoted to general, and after the surrender of the French, Gage was named military governor of Montreal. In 1761, Gage was promoted to major general, and, after the Treaty of Paris ended the war, Gage was informed he would act as commander-in-chief of the British forces in America. Kemble would profit from the rise of his brother-in-law. 

 In 1772, Kemble was named Deputy Adjutant General of the Forces in North America. Now a major in the British Army, Kemble was at the side of one of the most powerful men in North America. Kemble traveled to England the following year, meeting with King George. In 1774, Gage was named governor of Massachusetts, arriving in Boston in May.  Relatively well-received by the people of Boston initially, Gage’s vigorous defense and enforcement of the series of British laws passed to punish the people of Boston and Massachusetts quickly made him an enemy of the people.  Kemble was with Gage in Massachusetts when the opening shots of the war were fired in April 1775.  Gage was replaced by William Howe in the fall, and Kemble was demoted, though he remained loyal, due to his close relationship with Howe and his familial connections. 

Kemble continued to serve under Howe, and then General Henry Clinton, in New Jersey and Philadelphia, in 1776 and 1777. In June 1778, shortly before the British Army evacuated Philadelphia, Kemble was promoted to Lieutenant Colonel of the 1st Battalion of the 60th Foot.  He resigned his position in October 1779, however, when Clinton refused to promote him. 

Kemble was not out of service for long.  He soon resumed his position as Lieutenant Colonel of the First Battalion of the 60^th Regiment, and fought in the Caribbean and Central American against the Spanish, where, at one point, he held a temporary command of brigadier general. After an attempt in Nicaragua ended in disaster, Kemble went to England, where he was promoted to Colonel in 1782 and sent to Grenada.  In 1786, after being placed under the command of an officer of inferior grade at Quebec, Kemble retired from the British Army. 

 In 1788 he returned to New Brunswick, New Jersey, for a short time, but soon returned to England.  In 1805 he sold his property in England and returned to live in his old home in New Brunswick, where he remained until his death in 1822.  He is buried at Christ Episcopal Churchyard in New Brunswick.

Source: The Kemble Papers, vol. I, 1773-1789. Collections of the New York Historical Society, 1883.

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.

For Love and Country: John and Abigail Adams and the United States of America, part 8

1779 - 1781

“I hope this will be the last Seperation, We shall suffer from each other,  for any Length of Time.”

--John Adams to Abigail Adams off Cape Ann, November 1779 (Butterfield, III. 235)

            On September 27, 1779, Congress appointed John Adams to negotiate treaties of peace and commerce with Great Britain.  He did not, of course, turn down the appointment, and Abigail did not ask him to stay.  The country needed him.  John’s second trip to Europe was far more successful than his first.  John spent his time negotiating treaties of commerce, friendship and peace with European nations.  Abigail worried, as usual, about John’s health and safety, and she missed him, but she was happy as she could be without him as he was successful in the name of the country.  John was successful in negotiating treaties of commerce with some European nations, as well as obtaining loans for the United States.

            On November 15, 1779, John boarded La Sensible again, this time with John Quincy and Charles, and headed across the Atlantic Ocean.  Again Abigail stayed in Massachusetts as the couple felt it was too expensive and dangerous for her to go along.  A leak in the ship forced La Sensible to stop at El Ferrol, Spain.  Instead of spending his time doing nothing while waiting for the ship to be repaired, John set off for France overland across northern Spain.  The trip was long and arduous, over many mountain ranges including the Cantabrians, the Basque and the Pyrenees.  The Adamses would not arrive in Paris until February 9, 1780, about two months after they left El Ferrol.  John took time out to write to Abigail, “After this wandering Way of Life is passed I hope to return, to my best friend and pass the Remainder of our Days in Quiet” (Butterfield, III. 252). 

            While John was in Europe, Abigail would write to him concerning the war in the Colonies, the health of family, gossip about friends and officials, weather, and business.  Abigail also wrote to him requesting goods, usually when John was in Paris.  After John would ship items such as pins and clothing items to Abigail, she would sell them for extra money.  They were, of course, also filled with loving sentiments and wishes to be together again.  “May Heaven permit you and me to enjoy the cool Evening of Life, in Tranquility, undisturbed by the Cares of Politicks or War,” John wrote in June 1780, just as the Congress in the United States was commissioning him to raise a loan in the Netherlands. “And above all,” he continued,

with the sweetest of all Reflections, that neither Ambition, nor Vanity, nor Avarice, nor Malice, nor Envy, nor Revenge, nor Fear nor any base Motive, or sordid Passion through the whole Course of this mighty Revolution, and the rapid impetuous Course of great and terrible Events that have attended it, have drawn Us aside from the Line of our Duty and the Dictates of our Consciences!  (Butterfield, III. 367)

A month later, John would take his two sons from Paris to Amsterdam to raise a loan for the American cause.  Abigail wrote to John, exclaiming how happy she was that such an important charge was given to John.  “It would not become me to write the full flow of my Heart upon this occasion,” she wrote.  In the last six years, John and Abigail had seen each other for about nine months in all, yet they still both had an intense love for each other, and both were delighted in John’s position and accomplishments for the country.  While still in Paris at a dinner John had a conversation with Marie Grand, the wife of Ferdinand Grand, who was the French banker for American funds.  John remarked that sometimes it was a citizen’s duty to sacrifice his everything for the good of the country.  Marie Grand commended the sentiment, but found it hard to believe as true.  She remarked to John that loving one’s wife and children was a natural feeling that would “operate more powerfully” than the love one had for his country.  John responded to Marie Grand that not only were his feelings truthful, but his wife felt the same way as he did (McCullough 206).  Although many people may not have understood the feelings that John and Abigail had for each other and for their country, they understood each other perfectly.

The time apart, however, resulted in loneliness and heartache.  “My Dearest Friend,” Abigail began a letter at the end of December 1780 as they began almost every letter that they wrote to each other,

How much is comprised in that short sentance? How fondly can I call you mine, bound by every tie, which consecrates the most inviolable Friend-ship, yet seperated by a cruel destiny, I feel the pangs of absence some-times too sensibly for my own repose.  There are times when the heart is peculiarly awake to tender impressions…It is then that I feel myself alone in the wide world, without any one to tenderly care for me, or lend me an assisting hand through the difficulties that surround me.  (Butterfield, IV. 50)

            John would spend most of the year 1781 in the Netherlands, traveling only briefly to Paris in July.  Abigail worried about his health in the damp climate of the country.  John, for his part, told Abigail he wished for nothing more than to be home.  In May he wrote, “If I could get back again I would never more leave the Country, let who would beg, scold, or threaten.”  John would not be in his country again for seven years, but once he got back, he would never leave it again.  In July, John wrote Abigail again.  This time, he wished for wings so “that I might fly and bury all my Cares at the Foot of Pens Hill” where the Adamses home was (Butterfield, IV. 122, 170).  Abigail, who had not received a letter from John in some time, wrote in August, “I turn to the loved pages of former days and read them with delight. They are all my comfort, all my consolation in the long long interval of time that I have not received a line” (Butterfield, IV. 191).  John and Abigail loved each other through their letters for those seven years.  They shared views on politics, their fears, their ideas and their hopes.  They depended on each other for comfort and love.  Their letters to each other were everything (Withey 58).  It would take three more years of loving through letters before they were able to see each other again.  In ten years, save for the nine months John was in Massachusetts in 1779, John and Abigail only knew each other through their letters.

In October 1781, the Americans and French would strike a huge victory at Yorktown, Virginia when the British forces commanded by Lord Cornwallis surrendered after a siege of almost three weeks.  With the surrender of about 7,500 soldiers, approximately three-quarters of the British forces remained available on the continent.  The British still maintained a large force in New York and smaller forces throughout the country.  It was not clear to either side that the end of the war was near.  In fact, Washington believed it would continue on for at least another year, if not longer.  John was to be a key player in the signing of the peace treaty between Great Britain and the United States.

For Love and Country: John and Abigail Adams and the United States of America, part 7

1777 - 1779

“You wish you had ventured with me–I wish you was here–no I don’t, I wish I was there.” 

--John Adams to Abigail Adams from Passy, France, Dec 10, 1778 (Butterfield, III. 134)

            John was in Europe from 1778 to 1788, except for a brief three-month return to Massachusetts in 1779 (as well as three more months for travel time).  Abigail did not arrive in Europe until July 1784.  The six years of almost total absence strained the marriage briefly, especially during the first year and a half before John came back to Massachusetts.  This year and a half was particularly difficult for Abigail because she was not receiving correspondence from John on a regular basis the way she had when he was in Philadelphia.  It was also more treacherous to travel over the ocean, particularly during war time.  Interception and loss of letters was far more common at sea than on land during this period.  The gaps in communication led Abigail to gloominess and complaints.

On November 27, 1777, John Adams was elected by Congress to be a commissioner to France, along with Benjamin Franklin and Arthur Lee.  John spent the remainder of his time before his voyage with Abigail.  On February 14, 1778, John boarded the frigate Boston with his son, John Quincy, to sail for France.  Abigail was aware that his position was an important one both for the country and for John’s career. The next day she wrote to John Thaxter, a former law clerk of John’s and a tutor to the Adams’ children, “Your Friend might be more extensively usefull to his Country in this Department at this perticuliar time, than in any other.  I resign my own personal felicity and look for my satisfaction in the Consciousness of having discharged my duty to the publick” (Butterfield, II. 390).  John and Abigail were willing to suffer some personal unhappiness for the sake of John’s political career.  Their love was strong enough to endure the separations, and their belief in the revolution and their formidable sense of public duty allowed their marriage and their country to survive (Withey 75).

Other Congressmen declined to stay longer than one or two terms.  Other men representing the United States overseas cared little for their families, or simply did not have a family (Benjamin Franklin is a good example of the former, Thomas Jefferson of the latter after the passing of his wife).  John, however, accepted every appointment, near and far.  Abigail never attempted to convince him to decline any public position.  The couple was committed to the country and its cause and John was tied to its failure or success.  Should the revolution fail, John would be sought by the British and tried for treason, the penalty being death.  But should the revolution succeed, John would be a hero for his service, exalted and rewarded.  Still, John could have declined appointments and remained in service to his country in some other way.  John, however, felt that if his country asked him to serve in a particular capacity, he must do his best in that role, and Abigail agreed wholeheartedly. 

As John was leaving for France, the couple could not foresee that they would spend most of the next ten years apart from each other, suffering private wants for the sake of the public good (Withey 115).  While Abigail was cheerless at John’s absence, she took pleasure in knowing that she was John’s best friend and confidant.  Abigail kept abreast of events by writing correspondence to many people, including members of Congress, her good friend Mercy Otis Warren, and political figures.  They would keep her informed of the events in the States, in Europe and with John, especially when his communication was wanting, which would become often (Gelles 26).  Correspondence that John and Abigail sent to each other while John was in Philadelphia faced the dangers of interception or loss.  It also took time for letters to reach their destination, as they could only travel as fast as the rider carrying them.  The time and the dangers were nothing compared to what the couple would face after John boarded the Boston to sail for France.  Delays were the norm.  Storms kept ships in port; if an enemy ship came in for an attack, the letter-carrying ship usually threw all letters overboard to avoid the interception of sensitive material and letters were simply lost.  Moreover, even in peacetime, it took a letter months to cross the Atlantic instead of the days it took to go from Philadelphia to Boston.  John, being “so sensible of the Difficulty of conveying Letters safe,” was afraid to write anything more to Abigail then to tell her that “after all the Fatigues and Dangers of my Voyage, and Journey, I am here in Health” (Butterfield, III. xxviii, 9).  All of the letters John had written to Abigail while at sea were most likely lost for Abigail heard nothing of John for over two months.

As September rolled around, Abigail had scarcely heard from John.  The little she knew about him was what she heard through friends.  She wrote to John Thaxter in the beginning of September that she had only heard from her husband twice, and both of those letters came in April.  By the end of that month, Abigail wrote again to John; she acknowledged that four vessels bound from France to Boston had been captured, supposing that some letters from John had been lost in the process.  “If I had realized before you left me that the intercourse between us would have been so hazardous,” Abigail wrote to John on the twenty-ninth of September, “I fear my magninimnity would have faill’d me”  (Butterfield, III. 94-95).  Abigail was impatient and nervous.  She was also upset that John had gone, or that she had not gone with him and let him know this in the letters she wrote to France.  By November, Abigail would receive three letters from John.  “I cannot discribe the Effect they had upon me,” she wrote of his letters.  “Cheerfullness and tranquility took place of grief and anxiety” (Butterfield, III. 109). 

John was to receive the letters of complaint from Abigail the following month.  In what would be the only time in any of the letters that either John or Abigail showed any anger towards the other, John would send Abigail two separate letters chiding her for her complaints.  “For Heavens Sake, my dear dont indulge a Thought that it is possible for me to neglect, or forget all that is dear to me in this World,” John wrote on December 2.    “It is impossible for me to write as I did in America.  What should I write?  It is not safe to write any Thing.”  John wrote to her again on December 18^th after receiving another letter from Abigail complaining that John had not been writing enough, or with enough feeling.  This time, he responded more heatedly,

This is the third Letter I have recd. in this complaining style. the former two I have not answer'd.–I had Endeavour'd to answer them.–I have wrote several answers, but upon a review, they appear'd to be such I could not send. One was angry, another was full of Greif, and the third with Melancholy, so that I burnt them all….Am I not wretched Enough, in this Banishment, without this….I beg you would never more write to me in such a strain for it really makes me unhappy.

He closed his letter, however, on a more loving note.  “Be assured that no time nor place, can change my heart…& that I write to you so often as my Duty will permit” (Butterfield, III. 124, 138).  The time it took for letters to travel allowed for some of Abigail’s complaints to come through after John had sent his two letters in December.  In February 1779, the final angry letter between the two would be sent.  “For Gods sake,” John wrote, “never reproach me again with not writing or with Writing Scrips [scraps].  Your Wounds are too deep” (Butterfield, III. 174).  Abigail and John never mentioned the incident again, nor did the letter-writing relationship come close to breaking down ever again.

            In February, John learned that Benjamin Franklin had been appointed minister to France,

superceding the joint commission that Adams was serving on.*  With no further instructions sent to

him, John wrote home to tell Abigail joyously that he would soon be making his way back to her. 

Abigail responded days before John was to board the French frigate La Sensible back to Boston, that

the ship  “may bring me comfortable tidings from my dear dear Friend whose welfare is so essential to

 my happiness that it is entwined round my Heart, and cannot be impared or seperated from it without

 rendering it assunder” (Butterfield, III. 200).  She knew, however, that John would not remain at

home for long if his country needed him.  John arrived back in Boston on August 3, 1779.  A difficult

time, both for the Adamses’ marriage and for the nation, had passed.  The separation, however, would

continue for a few more years as John would only be at home with his dear friend for a couple of

months before his country required his services again. 

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* John Adams was appointed to replace Silas Deane to be a joint commissioner of France with Benjamin Franklin to work at attaining an alliance with France.  By the time Adams arrived, Franklin had already obtained the alliance with France.  Adams’ commission was dissolved and no further instructions were sent to him.

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.

For Love and Country: John and Abigail Adams and the United States of America, part 5

1775 - 1776

“Oh that I was a soldier!–I will be.–I am reading military Books.–Every Body must and will, and shall be a soldier.”

--John Adams to Abigail Adams, May 26, 1775 (Butterfield, I. 207)

            From May 1775 to October 1776, John was home for a total of about two months.  He spent the rest of his time at the Continental Congress in Philadelphia where he was among the few men who were trying to decide the future of the American Colonies.  Abigail served her country these years as well, mostly assisting soldiers in the area.  In a letter that John wrote to Abigail he noted that his health, as well as her health, should be hazarded for the cause of the country (Butterfield, I. 213).  Abigail did not disagree. They both knew that either one of them, or both, at any moment, might face the prospect of death.  At the same time, they must do what was their duty to their Country. 

On April 19, 1775, British soldiers and Colonial militiamen exchanged shots on Lexington green, about thirty miles to the north of the Adams home in Braintree.  Later in the day, the militiamen chased the British from Concord, two miles further up the road.  Congress was to meet in May.  “I wish you was nearer to us,” Abigail wrote despairingly on the 24^th of May.  “We know not what a day will bring forth, nor what distress one hour may throw us into” (Butterfield, I. 206).  In June, while John was proposing that George Washington be chosen as Commander of the Continental forces, Abigail wrote him requesting that he be as careful as he possibly could while doing the duty that he owed to his country, “That consideration alone prevailed with me to consent to your departure, in a time so perilous and so hazardous to your family” (Butterfield, I. 217). 

            On June 17^th, Abigail could hear a battle in the distance.  She and her son, John Quincy, went to the top of nearby Penn’s Hill where, at about twelve miles distant, they could clearly see the smoke of war and men rowing in the harbor between Charlestown and Boston.  They were watching the Battle of Bunker Hill.  She could not see the many casualties, but when the reports came in, she reported them in a letter to John, who, in turn, informed the Congress, using the report to argue that it was now time for the Colonies to break from England (Coit 3).  Abigail would continue to update John about events, always assuming that he would have better and more up-to-date information from other sources.  “Your Description of the Distresses of the worthy Inhabitants of Boston, and the other Sea Port Towns, is enough to melt an Heart of stone,” John would reply back in the beginning of July.  To which he added,

Our Consolation must be this, my dear, that Cities may be rebuilt, and a People reduced to Poverty, may acquire fresh Property: But a Constitution of Government once changed from Freedom, can never be restored.  Liberty once lost is lost forever.  When the people once surrender their share in Legislature, and their Right of defending the Limitations upon the Government, and of resisting every Encroachment upon them, they can never regain it. (Butterfield, I. 241)

John was willing to lose everything - his possessions, property, even entire cities and towns in his beloved country - in order to maintain liberty and freedom.  He feared if the Colonists lost even a small part of their rights they would never get them back.

            This, of course, was no consolation for Abigail.  “I have not ventured to inquire one word of you about your return.  I do not know whether I ought to wish for it,” she wrote.  She was always hoping for his return.  “I wish I could come and see you.  I never suffer myself to think you are about returning soon.  Can it, will it bee?  May I ask?  May I wish for it?” (Butterfield, I. 232, 240).  This would be her recurring thought any time John was away.  She knew he had to go and never tried to hold him back, but once John was gone, Abigail always wanted him back immediately.  It hurt her even further when John wrote infrequently.  Abigail sent him letters sometimes complaining of the short and unsentimental letters she had received from John, although she knew he was busy.  John would return shortly in August (for about two weeks), after a three-month absence, but it would be for only a short time, as Congress was to meet again in September.

            In the time John was away, Abigail allowed the local militia to practice movements in her yard.  She provided food and drink, and even melted down her pewter utensils to form into musket balls (John).  Abigail sacrificed her personal possessions and her time to do what she thought was her duty to her country.  When John was preparing to leave for Phialdelphia at the end of August, Abigail wrote to Mercy Otis Warren, “I find I am obliged to summons all my patriotism to feel willing to part with him again” (Butterfield, I. 276).  She loved John so much that she did not want him to leave.  She had to remind herself that although John would be absent from her at home, he would be doing his duty by serving his country.  Adams’ biographer, David McCullough, wrote that being apart under these circumstances was the paradox of their lives.  Though they would never become comfortable being apart from each other, neither would have it any other way; they each knew John must do whatever he could for their country (144).  John was truly torn between the two throughout his life, however, because Abigail never once asked John to choose between her and the country, his conflicting emotions were somewhat eased.

            As the second Continental Congress was winding down in Philadelphia, John wrote to Abigail that he would never leave her to go to Philadelphia again, but would go if she came with him. This, they probably both understood, was a lie.  John wrote to her, “Whom God has joined together ought not to be put asunder so long with their own Consent” (Butterfield, I. 332).  Of course, he was being somewhat dramatic.  At any time he could have turned down his election to Congress and stayed with his wife.  That would not be fulfilling his duty however.  Abigail understood, writing to John, “I hope the publick will reap what I sacrifice,” about three weeks before he was to arrive back in Braintree, where he would stay for a month. (Butterfield, I. 329).  These early years that John and Abigail spent apart found both of them wanting each other’s company, but also wanting to serve their country.  It was during this time that they received a window into what they would face over the next decade.

For Love and Country: John and Abigail Adams and the United States of America, part 4

1764 - 1774

“We live my dear Soul, in an Age or Tryal.  What will be the Consequence I know not.”

--John Adams to Abigail Adams, May 12, 1774 (Butterfield, I. 107)

            From the middle of the 1760s, John and Abigail, as well as many others in the American Colonies, grew conscious of the problems that might occur with the actions of Great Britain.  What the Adamses were not aware of was that the crisis would take John from his family and put his life at risk.

 The British passed the Stamp Act in 1765, creating a stir in the Colonies.  It was repealed only months after its passage.  In the interim, John was directly affected, as all of his law documents were subject to the tax.  Business in the courts slowed to a trickle.  John joined an organization at this time that would later call themselves the Sons of Liberty.  At meetings politics were discussed, and John would inform Abigail of the sentiments of the men in the meetings.  Both John and Abigail started to become aware that the Colonies and Britain were heading towards an impasse (Coit 3).  The following year, 1767, the Townshend Acts were passed in Britain.  The acts taxed items such as lead, paper, paint, glass, and tea, but unlike the Stamp Act, only imported items were taxed.  The Sons of Liberty, led by Samuel Adams, called for a boycott on these items from Britain.  The Townshend Acts were repealled in 1770, except for the tax on tea. 

Throughout this period, John Adams was involved with the Sons of Liberty and his opinions were shaped by those of the other members.  Abigail was influenced by John when he brought those opinions home.  In a letter written on December 5, 1773 to her good friend Mercy Otis Warren, Abigail clearly shows that, if not of her own mind and opinion, she was surely influenced in her opinion (as well as highly informed) of current events by her husband and their close friends.  She wrote,

The Tea that bainfull weed is arrived.  Great and I hope Effectual opposition has been made to the landing of it[. . . .]The flame is kindled and like Lightning it catches from Soul to Soul.  Great will be the devastation if not timely quenched or allayed by some more Lenient Measures.  Altho the mind is shocked at the Thought of sheding Humane Blood, more Especially the Blood of our Countrymen, and a civil War is of all Wars, the most dreadfull Such is the present Spirit that prevails, that if once they are made desperate Many, very Many of our Heroes will spend their lives in the cause, With the Speech of Cato in their Mouths, ‘What a pitty it is, that we can dye but once to save our Country.’ (Butterfield, I.  88)

The next day, angry residents of Boston, organized by Sam Adams and the Sons of Liberty, boarded the British tea ships that were in Boston Harbor and dumped the tea overboard.  John predicted the dire repercussions of the actions for the colonists shortly before the British acted.  “The Town of Boston, for ought I can see, must suffer Martyrdom: It must expire: And our principal Consolation is that it dies in a noble Cause,” John wrote just before some of the acts took effect.  He continued, “The Cause of Truth, of Virtue, of Liberty and of Humanity: and that it will probably have a glorious Reformation, to greater Wealth, Splendor and Power than ever” (Butterfield, I. 107).  In essence, John was writing that Boston would be the starting place of the war for independence. 

By the end of March, the British closed the Port of Boston until the damaged tea was paid in full.  The closing of the port was part of British acts which would be called the Intolerable Acts by the Colonies.  Elective government in the Colony was banned and any judge could decide to move a trial to Britain if he pleased.  The acts were aimed at Massachusetts, but were meant as a warning to the other Colonies as well.  

The first Continental Congress, which was to decide how the Colonies would proceed in their relations with their mother country, met in Philadelphia in September 1774.  For the first extended period of time John was away from Abigail. Abigail was aware of the role her husband would have to play.  “Your task is difficult and important,” she wrote days after he left her.  Abigail was already concerned about the worsening relations between Britain and the Colonies.  John’s safety was added to her worries about the family. “The great distance between us, makes the time appear very long to me,” she wrote to John less than a week later.  “It seems already a month since you left me.  The great anxiety I feel for my Country, for you and for our family renders the day tedious, and the night unpleasant” (Butterfield, I. 140, 142).  It was the first time in their marriage that John would be so far away from Abigail for such an extended period of time.

John, for his part, longed to be home, but he knew he would stay in Philadelphia as long as he needed to be there.  “Sitting down to write you, is a Scene almost too tender for my State of Nerves,” John wrote from “Phyladelphia” on September 29^th, seven weeks after he left Braintree.  He continued,

It calls up to my View the anxious, distress’d State you must be in, amidst the Confusions 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. (Butterfield, I. 163)

John would return before Christmas that year, but he would be on his horse to Philadelphia again shortly, to attend the second Continental Congress, this time leaving Abigail behind at a time when the war came very close to home.

            As tensions increased, John continued to spend more time away from Abigail and his family in order to contribute to the revolutionary cause.  The 1760s and early 1770s were only a preview of the conflict that was coming.  After 1774, John would spend less time at home and more time in the service of his country.

For Love and Country: John and Abigail Adams and the United States of America, part 3

Acquaintance and Courtship

“I begin to find that an increasing Affection for a certain Lady, (you know who my Dear) quickens my Affections for every Body Else, that does not deserve my Hatred.  A Wonder if the Fires of Patriotism, do not soon begin to burn!”

--John Adams to Abigail Adams,  April 20, 1763 (Butterfield, I. 5)

John and Abigail had a strong emotional and intellectual attachment.  However, when they first met in 1759, John was not impressed (Withey 13).  John was a twenty-three year old graduate of Harvard studying law.  Abigail was fifteen years old, and seemed always to be sick (McCullough 54).  He was the son of a farmer and she was a well-read daughter of a well-off parson.  When John’s friend, Richard Cranch, began courting Abigail’s sister Mary, John spent more time at the Smiths’ house and spent more time with Abigail, and the two got to know each other better.  An intellectual affinity was part of the attraction.  Edith Gelles, another of Abigail’s biographers, states that in addition it was “chemical, it was physical, it was humor, it was the fact they enjoyed being in one another’s company” (John).  These early meetings laid the groundwork for a lifetime of love and friendship.

In 1762, John and Abigail would exchange their first letter.  The letter, written by John and dated October 4, 1762, was flirtatious and playful and is the first of what would become about 1,180 known letters exchanged between the two lovers (Sikes).  “Miss Adorable” it began,

By the same Token that the Bearer hereof satt up with you last night I hereby order you to give him, as many Kisses, and as many Hours of your Company after 9 O’Clock as he shall please to Demand and charge them to my Account: This Order, or Requisition call it which you will is in Consideration of a similar order Upon Aurelia [Mary Smith, Abigail’s sister] for the like favour, and I presume I have good Right to draw upon you for the Kisses as I have given two or three Millions at least, when one has been received, and of Consequence the Account between us is immensely in favour of yours, John Adams. (Butterfield, I. 2)

The courtship continued until 1764.  In between, letters flowed from one to the other proclaiming love, affection, and a yearning to be together.  

            Sometimes words were not enough.  John ended his letter to Abigail on February 14, 1763, “Your–(all the rest is inexpressible) John Adams” (Butterfield, I. 3).  That same year, Abigail began to sign her letters “Diana” after the Roman goddess of the moon.  To her, John became Lysander, the Spartan hero (McCullough 55).  Their letters typically began with “My Dearest Friend,” and each of them meant it when they wrote those words.  Before they were married, John wrote to Abigail, describing her as “The dear Partner of all my Joys and sorrows, in whose Affections, and Friendship I glory, more than in all other Emoluments under Heaven, comes into my Mind very often and makes me sigh” (Butterfield, I. 17).

            Over the course of their courtship of nearly five years, John and Abigail came to know each other intimately, both emotionally and intellectually.  In the beginning, politics and humor along with their proclamations of love filled their letters to each other.  They became spouses and lovers, best friends and intellectual partners (Wood 38).  They were married on October 25, 1764 by Abigail’s father at the parsonage.  Afterwards, they moved into the house directly across from John’s mother.  He set up his law office in the front room of the house and was able to find time to spend with Abigail (Withey 25).  John went away every so often, appearing in courts across Massachusetts (which, at the time, included present day Maine).  He was never away long, but approaching events would soon change their happy home.

John and Abigail’s relationship was not love at first sight.  They grew to love each other over the first few years.  They went from having short meetings to longer ones, and when they could not physically be together, they wrote letters to each other to feel closer.  The time was nearing when the letters would be as close as they could get to each other.