Episode 2.4 Independence

[Transcript]

Hello, and welcome to America’s First Ladies. I’m your host, Risa Weaver-Enion.

Episode 2.4 Independence

We left off last week with the horrible dysentery epidemic that claimed the lives of Abigail’s mother, John’s brother, and many others in and around Braintree. John missed all of it because he was in Philadelphia with the rest of Congress.

While Abigail was struggling to keep her household alive, John was arguing in Congress that the colonies needed to prepare for independence. He no longer used the word “colony” and wanted each state to adopt a constitution and convene a representative body to govern. Congress was not yet ready to declare independence, and some of the more conservative members still thought that reconciliation with Britain was possible. 

Abigail was already convinced that independence was necessary. A petition had circulated in Braintree in November, calling for reconciliation with Britain. Abigail wrote about it to John, saying “I could not join today in the petitions … for a reconciliation between our no longer parent state, but tyrant state and these colonies—Let us separate, they are unworthy to be our brethren.”

John came home for a short stay at the end of December. He arrived home on Christmas Day, but then left the very next day for Watertown. He once again spent his break from Congress updating the Massachusetts General Court, as the legislature was called, on what Congress was doing. He also visited General Washington in Cambridge, and dined with the General and Lady Washington. John left for Philadelphia once more at the end of January 1776, riding in the dead of winter to rejoin Congress. Abigail was so disappointed at his leaving again that she waited over a month before writing to him or replying to any of his letters.

As he passed through New York, he bought two copies of a new pamphlet that everyone was talking about, Common Sense by Thomas Paine. He sent one copy to Abigail and kept one for himself. Paine outlined quite clearly the case for American independence, and argued for a democratically elected single-house legislature to govern each state.

At first John was impressed with Paine’s work, but he soon changed his mind. Partially because he met Thomas Paine and was disappointed to learn that Paine was not a religious man. He wrote in his diary that Paine’s “Arguments from the old Testiment were ridiculous, but whether they proceeded from honest Ignorance or foolish Superstition on the one hand, or from willfull Sophistry and knavish Hypocricy on the other I know not.”

But John thought that Paine’s argument for a unicameral legislature was even more problematic. So in response, he wrote a treatise titled Thoughts on Government. He described a republic with a government composed of three branches to represent the people. Each branch would have separate powers and would act as a check to balance the other branches. You may recognize this structure as the three-part government we have today, with a bicameral legislature, an independent judiciary, and an executive. This form wouldn’t be established for another 13 years though, after the United States finally gave up on the Articles of Confederation and adopted the U.S. Constitution. We’ll get there. 

Abigail had her own thoughts on government, which she expressed in letters to John, rather than in essays published in newspapers. As Edith Gelles points out in her book, Abigail Adams: A Writing Life, “It was unusual and most often frowned upon for women to write for publication. Letters, however, were the one respectable outlet for women’s expression because letters, while governed by literary conventions, were expected to be privately read.”

In letters to John, one of Abigail’s proposals was an excise tax to be placed on spirituous liquors in an amount equal among all states because New England currently had a higher tax than other states, which damaged their trade.  

On March 2, 1776, Abigail was in the middle of composing a letter to John when she interrupted herself to write, “But hark! the House this instant shakes with the roar of Cannon. I have been to the door and find tis a cannonade from our Army.” What Abigail didn’t know is that the cannon fire was a distraction to cover the fact that George Washington’s troops were moving artillery captured at Fort Ticonderoga to the top of Dorchester Hill, which had a clear shot into Boston as well as the ships in the harbor. We covered this in episode 1.6.

On March 17, Abigail once more summited Penn’s Hill to watch a scene she had long waited for—the British marched out of Boston, onto their ships, and sailed away. She wrote, “You may count upwards of one hundred and seventy sail. They look like a forest.”

Abigail was nearly giddy with relief at Boston’s emergence from occupation and siege. The defeat of the greatest military power on Earth by an army of amateurs was, according to Abigail, “marvelous in our eyes.”

On March 31, she wrote a letter to John that covered many subjects, slavery and independence among them. She was worried that the Virginians were not moral enough to stand with the New Englanders in the fight. “I have sometimes been ready to think that the passion for Liberty cannot be Eaquelly strong in the Breasts of those who have been accustomed to deprive their fellow Creatures of theirs. Of this I am certain that it is not founded upon that generous and christian principal of doing to others as we would that others should do unto us.”

This same letter contains the most famous words ever written by Abigail Adams. It’s often referred to as the “Remember the Ladies” letter, and it’s sometimes used by modern writers to claim that Abigail was a feminist. But that’s an anachronistic label, even though Abigail was arguing for more freedom for women. I’ll quote here extensively from her letter so you can get the full impact of it.

“I long to hear that you have declared an independancy—and by the way in the new Code of Laws which I suppose it will be necessary for you to make I desire you would Remember the Ladies, and be more generous and favourable to them than your ancestors. Do not put such unlimited power into the hands of the Husbands. Remember all Men would be tyrants if they could. If particular care and attention is not paid to the Laidies we are determined to foment a Rebellion, and will not hold ourselves bound by any Laws in which we have no voice, or Representative. 

That your Sex are Naturally Tyranical is a Truth so thoroughly established as to admit of no dispute, but such of you as wish to be happy willingly give up the harsh title of Master for the more tender and endearing one of Friend. Why then, not put it out of the power of the vicious and the Lawless to use us with cruelty and indignity with impunity. Men of Sense in all Ages abhor those customs which treat us only as the vassals of your Sex. Regard us then as Beings placed by providence under your protection and in immitation of the Supreem Being make use of that power only for our happiness.”

There’s a lot to unpack here, from her casual start of “by the way,” as if all this was just some random afterthought, to her joking about starting a women’s rebellion, to her very serious wish that women have more power against abusive husbands. 

Remember, in this time period, women were completely subjugated to their husbands. If their husbands drank and gambled, or beat them and their children, or committed infidelity, wives had no recourse at all. They were required by law to put up with anything. And Abigail hoped that the new laws of the new nation would do something about that. They didn’t, of course. But it’s noteworthy that Abigail was thinking about these things and writing to her husband about them.

Meanwhile, Congress was dealing with a laundry list of tasks that most definitely did not include anything related to the burden of women. John’s diary contained a list of things he wanted to accomplish: “An alliance to be formed with France and Spain; Government to be assumed by every colony; Powder mills to be built in every colony and fresh efforts to make saltpetre; a Declaration of Independency.”

That last item was a big hurdle to clear. Congress was nowhere near united in wanting to declare independence. And the delegates of six colonies—New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland, and South Carolina—had been specifically instructed not to vote for independence. In February, Congress had received word that Parliament had prohibited all trade with the colonies and denounced as traitors all Americans who did not make an unconditional submission. 

In response, Congress enacted an embargo on exports to Britain, voted to disarm all Tories (the ones who hadn’t already fled back to Britain), and to permit the outfitting of privateers. These were private vessels who were authorized to attack enemy ships, take their crews prisoner, and plunder the goods carried by the ships. America had no real navy, but Congress authorized the building of thirteen frigates.

By spring 1776, the colonies of South Carolina, Georgia, and North Carolina had received instructions from their legislatures that allowed them to vote for independence when the time came. In May, British warships became a real threat to Philadelphia. John and Richard Henry Lee put forth a resolution recommending that the individual colonies assume all powers of government to secure “the happiness and safety of their constituents in particular, and America in general.” It passed unanimously.

Back in Braintree, Abigail was dealing with farm management, a subject about which she knew very little. There was a shortage of able-bodied men to work the farms because many of them had joined the army (or died, either in the army or of dysentery or smallpox). This resulted in wages climbing sky high. The previous farm manager had left after being ill, and Abigail tried to manage the farm without him, writing to Mercy Otis Warren, “I have not been able to supply his place—therefore am obliged to direct what I fear I do not properly understand.” After a few months of this, Abigail gave up and hired one of the tenant farmers to oversee the whole operation, at considerable expense. 

She also was engaged in managing business affairs, disposing of a barge that was partly owned by John, renting out the house on Queen Street in Boston, breeding livestock, and purchasing land. John jokingly called her his Farmeress and said, “our Neighbours will think Affairs more discreetly conducted in my Absence than at any other Time.”

In May, Congress received word of the disastrous winter operation in Canada, which we covered in episode 1.6. That’s the one where the men had no food, no shoes, no clothing but they did have smallpox. The two generals leading the operation were killed or wounded, and everything was a complete disaster. The only saving grace of the debacle was that it made clear to Congress that Canada would not become an ally in the war against England. The 13 states were on their own, and they could now decide how to move forward.

Richard Lee of Virginia introduced a resolution for independence on June 8, and John seconded it. He, personally, felt that the states had effectively declared independence back in March, when Congress recommended that each state write its own constitution. Much like George Washington thought that being at war was all the declaration needed, John felt that an overt declaration was merely a formality. But the declaration was necessary for Congress to be able to establish relations with other countries.

The resolution read: “Resolved…That these United Colonies are, and of a right ought to be, free and independent states, that they are absolved from all allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the state of Great Britain is, and ought to be, totally dissolved.”

Only nine states were ready to vote for independence. The other four either didn’t have instructions from their state legislatures or had been instructed not to vote for independence. After two days of debate, the resolution was tabled until July 1 to give the uncertain states time to receive instructions from their legislatures. In the meantime, a committee was formed to draft a declaration of independence so it would be ready when the time came. John Adams, Thomas Jefferson of Virginia, Benjamin Franklin of Pennsylvania, Roger Sherman of Connecticut, and Robert Livingston of New York were the drafting committee, and the five of them unanimously agreed that Jefferson should take charge of the writing.

At 10 am on Monday, July 1, 1776, Congress officially began debate on Richard Lee’s resolution for a declaration of independence. John Dickinson of Pennsylvania made arguments against it, still of the opinion that declaring independence was premature. He claimed that a declaration would be “to brave the storm in a skiff made of paper.”

John then rose and made what most historians consider to be the greatest and most important speech of his life, in favor of declaring independence. No record of it exists because again, it was all confidential. After nine hours of debate and speeches, a preliminary vote was held. 

Four states either voted no or not at all. Pennsylvania had seven delegates, and three of them voted in favor, but the other four outnumbered them, making Pennsylvania a no. South Carolina voted no for reasons no one understood, because they had permission from their legislature to vote yes. New York abstained because they lacked instructions from their legislature. And Delaware had three delegates, one who was in favor, one who was opposed, and one who was not present, so they deadlocked.

Edward Rutledge of South Carolina proposed that they adjourn and postpone a final vote until the next day, implying that his state might change its vote overnight. 

The next morning, just as the doors to Congress were about to be closed, the missing delegate from Delaware, Caesar Rodney, burst in, fresh from his horse and spattered with mud. He had ridden 80 miles in one night, changing horses multiple times in order to get there in time so that Delaware could vote yes on the independence resolution. 

Equally important, two of the seven Pennsylvania delegates had conveniently not shown up. John Dickinson and Robert Morris were both opposed to the declaration, but by staying away, they made Pennsylvania’s vote 3 in favor and only 2 against. New York continued to abstain because they still didn’t have instructions from their state. And South Carolina voted yes to join the majority, making the vote technically unanimous, setting aside New York’s lack of vote.

As David McCullough put it in his book, John Adams, “If not all thirteen clocks had struck as one, twelve had, and with the other silent, the effect was the same.”

John ecstatically wrote to Abigail, “The second day of July 1776 will be the most memorable epoch in the history of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival. It ought to be commemorated as the Day of Deliverance by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations from one end of this continent to the other from this time forward forever more.”

Okay, so we don’t actually celebrate July 2, and we don’t celebrate with acts of devotion, but the rest is pretty accurate!

Now that Congress had voted to declare independence, they had to approve the text of the declaration, which is what they debated on July 3. Over 80 changes were made to Jefferson’s draft, but when the final vote was held on July 4, it was unanimously approved, with New York once again abstaining.

Congress ordered that the document be authenticated and printed, but it would be another month before it was signed by the delegates. On July 4, only John Hancock and Charles Thomson, president and secretary of Congress, respectively, signed. And then Congress moved on to other business. Quoting David McCullough again, “Indeed, to all appearances, nothing happened in Congress on July 4, 1776. Adams, who had responded with such depth of feeling to the events of July 2, recorded not a word of July 4. Of Jefferson’s day, it is known only that he took time off to shop for ladies’ gloves and a new thermometer that he purchased at John Sparhawk’s London Bookshop for a handsome 3 pounds, 15 shillings.”

By July 5, printed broadsides were available of the text, and the front page of the July 6 Pennsylvania Evening Post carried the full text. The Declaration was read aloud in the State House Yard on July 8, before roaring crowds. Bells rang, five battalions paraded through the city, and the King’s Arms were taken down from the wall of the State House and burned in a bonfire. The next day in New York, the Declaration was read aloud to the Continental Army troops, and a statue of George III was pulled down. The news didn’t reach Savannah, Georgia until August, but they held a day-long celebration and a mock burial of George III.

In addition to the excitement of the Declaration of Independence, the summer of 1776 brought a major smallpox epidemic to Boston. After the British evacuated Boston, so many people were moving here and there—people who had been trapped in Boston during the occupation were leaving, people who had fled as the British took over were finally able to return. The army was on the move. It was almost inevitable that smallpox would break out.

At first Massachusetts prohibited inoculation because people who were undergoing inoculation were as contagious as people sick with smallpox, but as the epidemic grew, the leaders decided that it made more sense to get as many people inoculated as possible. Boston was turned into one large isolation hospital as people from all over traveled there to be inoculated. Close to 5000 people ultimately underwent inoculation in Boston, Abigail and her children among them. 

Abigail’s mother had always expressly forbidden her to be inoculated, even after Abigail was married and no longer living under Elizabeth’s roof. But with her mother now dead, Abigail was free to be inoculated, which she had wanted to do ever since John was inoculated in 1764. Because there were still no actual hospitals in America, private citizens opened their homes to become temporary inoculation centers. Abigail’s uncle Isaac Smith opened his Boston mansion to Abigail, her children, her sister Mary and her family, her sister Betsy, and several others. Nabby was 11, Johnny was 9, Charley was 6, and little Tommy was not quite 4 in the summer of 1776.

On July 12, they all arrived in Boston for what Abigail hoped would be a short, three-week stay. She brought a cow with her from the farm to provide fresh milk for everyone. I mention this now because it won’t be the last time Abigail takes a cow with her on a journey.

Smallpox inoculation, you may recall from both season 1 when Martha was inoculated and from episode 2.1 when John was, consisted of making a small incision in a person’s arm and then dabbing it with a needle covered in pus from an infected person’s pustules. The arm was then bandaged. The patient had to wait to see if any symptoms would develop. Infection didn’t always “take” on the first try, and some people had to be purposely infected more than once to get their body to mount a response, as we’ll soon see.

Ten days after being infected, Abigail developed symptoms, and soon after that Johnny and Nabby did too. But Tommy and Charley were symptom-free, and Nabby’s symptoms seemed suspiciously mild. The only thing worse than not being immune to smallpox was thinking you were immune when you actually weren’t. Abigail insisted that Nabby be inoculated again, and this time she erupted in so many pustules that she couldn’t even sit down. There was no question that she had immunity at that point.

Tommy was infected three times before he finally had an outbreak of the tell-tale pustules. Not one of Charley’s three inoculations seems to have worked, and he finally contracted smallpox naturally, which was far more dangerous than being infected through the inoculation process. According to a letter sent to John by his former clerk John Thaxter, Jr., Charles “had been exceeding ill, stupid and delirious for 48 hours.” He was soon on the mend though, and the family was able to return to Braintree on September 2, nearly two months after they had left.

While Abigail was in Boston, she was able to join a crowd in the streets to hear the Declaration of Independence read aloud on July 18. She described the scene in a letter to John,

“I went with the Multitude into Kings Street to hear the proclamation for independence read and proclamed. … the troops appeard under Arms and all the inhabitants assembled there…When Col. Crafts read from the [balcony] of the State House the Proclamation, great attention was given to every word. As soon as he ended, the cry from the [balcony] was God Save our American States and then 3 cheers which rended the air, the Bells rang, the privateers fired, the first and Batteries, the cannon were discharged, the platoons followed and every face appeard joyful. …The kings arms were taken down from the State House and every vestage of him from every place in which it appeard and burnt in King Street. Thus ends royall Authority in this State, and all the people shall say Amen.”

Abigail also wrote about an unexpected luxury she enjoyed during her stay at Uncle Isaac’s—a room where she could sit and look out the window as she composed her correspondence. “I have possession of my Aunts chamber in which you know is a very conveniant pretty closet with a window which looks into her flower Garden. In this closet are a number of Book Shelves, which are but poorly furnished, however I have a pretty little desk or cabinet here where I write all my Letters and keep my papers unmollested by any one. … I always had a fancy for a closet with a window which I could more peculiarly call my own.”

In 1929, more than 150 years after Abigail wrote these words, Virginia Woolf would publish her famous essay, A Room of One’s Own, which explored social injustice and women’s lack of free expression. Abigail would approve.

In addition to the weighty matter of independence, Abigail and John also corresponded about a more mundane topic: the education of their children. John had many thoughts. Much like George Washington sent constant letters to his cousin Lund about improvements he wanted to make to Mount Vernon, John sent constant letters to Abigail on the subject of education. “The Education of our Children is never out my Mind. Train them to Virtue, habituate them to industry, activity, and Spirit. Make them consider every Vice, as shamefull and unmanly; fire them with Ambition to be usefull. … Cultivate their minds, inspire their little Hearts, raise their wishes.”

He had more specific instructions as well. “Geography is a Branch of Knowledge, not only very usefull, but absolutely necessary to every person. … Really, there ought not to be a State, a City, a Promontory, an Harbour, an inlett, or a Mountain in all America, but what should be intimately known to every Youth, who has any Pretensions to a liberal Education.”

Abigail agreed on the importance of education, but wished to see girls and women included, writing to John, “If you complain of neglect of Education in sons, what shall I say with regard to daughters, who every day experience the want of it. With regard to the Education of my own children, I find myself soon out of my depth, and destitute and deficient in every part of Education. I most sincerely wish that some more liberal plan might be laid and executed for the Benefit of the rising Generation, and that our new constitution may be distinguished for Learning and Virtue. If we mean to have Heroes, Statesmen, and Philosophers, we should have learned women. The world perhaps would laugh at me, and accuse me of vanity, But you know I have a mind too enlarged and liberal to disregard the Sentiment.”

John claimed that “Your Sentiments on the Importance of Education in Women, are exactly agreable to my own.” But an earlier exchange related to Nabby’s education proves that this was mere posturing. Boys, but not girls, were routinely taught Latin and Greek. Abigail wanted Nabby to learn them, so she directed the boys’ tutor, John Thaxter, Jr. to also instruct Nabby in the two classical languages. Abigail mentioned this casually in a letter to John, and he did not approve. Before I quote his letter, I should explain that when he wrote “accidence” he’s writing a-c-c-i-d-e-n-c-e, which refers to the basics of Latin grammar.

To Abigail, he wrote that Nabby “required a Different Education [from her brothers] by Reason of her sex.” And to Nabby he wrote, “I learned in a letter from your mamma, that you was learning the accidence. This will do you no hurt, my dear, though you must not tell many people of it, for it is scarcely reputable for young ladies to understand Latin and Greek—French, my dear, French is the language, next to English—this I hope your mamma will teach you.” So much for completely agreeing with Abigail’s sentiments on the importance of education in women.

By the end of July, John and many of the other delegates to Congress were suffering the ill effects of long days of stressful work being cooped up in hot, stifling rooms. John requested a leave of absence, writing, “My face is grown pale, my eyes weak and inflamed, my nerves tremulous, my mind is as weak as water. … I know better than anybody what my constitution will bear and what it will not and you may depend upon it, I have already tempted it beyond prudence and safety.”

John’s intended leave of absence was put on hold after the Battle of Long Island on August 27, which was a demoralizing defeat for the Americans. We covered this in episode 1.6, describing how General Washington ferried the American troops across the East River under cover of fog to retreat from the British. John decided he was needed in Philadelphia, so in Philadelphia he remained. In his diary, John couldn’t resist a bit of word play, despite the seriousness of the situation, writing, “In general, our generals were out-generaled.”

Meanwhile, Abigail was at her wits end back in Braintree. Their house in Boston was going to ruin after being taken over by British soldiers during the occupation. The boat he and his brother owned was rotting in the wharf. She had been able to rent out their church pew at their Boston church, but had to pay the tax for its repair after the occupation. She wrote to John, “I cannot consent to your tarrying much longer. I know your Health must greatly suffer [but] whilst you are engaged in the Senate your own domestick affairs require your presence at Home and your wife and children are in Danger of wanting Bread.”

Finally, in mid-October, John obtained a leave of absence and headed home to Braintree. He arrived in early November, but it was going to be a short stay.

Next week, we’ll finally move past the pivotal year of 1776. I did not anticipate spending this much time on one year, but let’s be honest, a lot happened. And there’s still a lot more to come.

Thanks for listening to this episode. It was produced by me, and the music is by Matthew Dull. Have you left a rating or review yet? I sure would appreciate it if you would!