American Rebels

by Nina Sankovitch

  Josiah returned to the deck, assisted by two sailors of the watch. To his horror, the ocean was churning angrily all around him—“the waves seemed to curl with flames” and the sky overhead was “black and heavy.” Josiah watched, mesmerized but terrified, as the “Seas rise in wrath and mountains combat heavens; clouds gage with clouds and lightenings dart their vengeful coruscations; thunders roll and oceans roar.”

  He retreated once again to his cabin, where he passed “Days of heat, cold, wind, and rain … I became pale wan and spiritless … every person on shipboard gave me over and concluded I should never reach land.”19

  The worst was still to come as the vessel sailed farther south, closer to “the latitude of the Bermudas, a latitude remarkable for storms and whirlwinds.” A hurricane arrived with nightfall on February 21: “Rain, hail, snow and sleet descended with great violence and the wind and waves raged all night.”

  For days, storms pounded the vessel. Josiah, confined once again to his cabin, where he was flung from side to side by the force of the wind and the waves, could think only that he was “now in that latitude in which the remains of my Elder Brother lay deposited in the Ocean.” Would he come to a similar end? He passed the nights in deep reflection, recalling to mind Hamlet’s lamentation on the passage of time and futility of living—“Tomorrow, and tomorrow and tomorrow Creeps in this petty space [sic].”20

  The captain of the ship, John Skimmer, would later recall, “I never saw so dismal a time in my life … [nor had any mariner on board] seen so terrible a time.”21 As the storm raged on, prayers began and final declarations were made. Destruction of the vessel was inevitable, and death imminent: “Every soul on board expected to perish.”22

  Josiah turned to his journal and wrote, “I regretted nothing more than that in past-times I had not been more of the true citizen of my country and the world;—more assiduous, more persevering, more bitter toward the implacable, more relentless against the scourges of my country, and the plagues of mankind.”23 Then he hunkered down in his bunk and began to pray.

  * * *

  Exhilarating news arrived in Boston from Virginia. The House of Burgesses—Virginia’s legislative body—proposed that the American colonies create a network of intercolonial organizing in addition to the local committees of correspondence. The proposal matched the suggestion made by John Adams back in January when, in writing his reply to Thomas Hutchinson at the request of the Massachusetts House of Representatives, he had suggested a gathering of all the colonies to discuss and agree upon ideas “of very great Importance to all.” He had used the word “Congress” to describe such a meeting.24

  John Adams recognized that the fight of the Massachusetts colonists was the fight of all the colonies. He would no longer make arguments on behalf of Massachusetts alone but instead would fire salvos on the part of all Americans chafing under Parliament’s far-reaching acts. Adams had joined with Josiah Quincy Jr. and John Hancock in branching out, and corralling forces far beyond their New England borders.

  Approval for this coalescence of colonial protest and action roared into Boston, with notices, letters, and signed petitions of support. From Gorham, Maine, came this declaration: “The swords which we whet and brightened for our enemies [in the Seven Years’ War] are not yet grown rusty”; and from Kittery: “We offer our lives as a sacrifice in the glorious cause of liberty.”25 Committees in Connecticut vowed to cut off trade with Britain and publicly shame any merchant or customer who chose to continue dealing in such goods.

  John Adams understood this movement of colonial cooperation to be a wholly lawful campaign necessary to secure the rights of colonists: “Our own Happiness as well as his Majesty’s Service, very much depends upon Peace and Order; and we shall at all Times take such Measures as are consistent with our Constitution and the Rights of the People to promote and maintain them.”26

  The sanctity of good government was the focal point of their agitation, John Hancock insisted, vowing his highest allegiance to “righteous government … founded upon principles of reason and justice.” And Josiah Quincy Jr., in a piece he published before leaving for Charleston, justified colonial resistance to illegal acts by Parliament as not only lawful but obligatory: “Is it possible [the acts of Parliament] should not rouse us, and drive us, not to desperation, but to our duty?”27

  Among the patriots, the cause was property and liberty, not independence. Whether Loyalist or patriot, the colonists considered their rights to be English, even if their domicile was American. And in England, neither those who supported the colonists’ rights nor those who opposed them gave a thought to a possible severance of the connection between England and its American colonies.

  * * *

  In March 1773, John Adams admitted to his wife, Abigail, what she already knew: he was back in the fray of politics. He’d spent the evening at Hancock’s home on the hill, meeting with other agitators for colonial rights, and he realized he could not hold himself back from participating. As he wrote in his diary the next day, “I have never known a Period, in which the Seeds of great Events have been so plentifully sown as this Winter. A Providence is visible, in that Concurrence of Causes [which have] laid me under peculiar Obligations to undeceive the People, and changed my Resolution. I hope that some good will come out of it.—God knows.”28

  Perhaps it was seeing the portrait of his cousin Sam Adams hanging beside that of John Hancock in the Hancock drawing room that had pushed John Adams the final yard back into politics. He was an ambitious man, and it must have galled him to see Sam’s face up there next to Hancock’s when it was John Adams who had been the friend to young Hancock, his companion at college, and the patriot willing to represent the hated British soldiers after the massacre just to prove how law-abiding the colonists of Massachusetts really were. John’s reputation suffered for that sacrifice made—“my conduct in it is remembered, and is alleged against me to prove I am an enemy to my country, and always have been”29—and what did he have to show for it?

  Adams’ envy of Hancock, mixed up with his admiration for the man and his desire to be recognized publicly, continued to both irritate and motivate him, as it had since the two were childhood friends. Never again would he back away, Adams vowed to himself, from the challenges of politics, public scrutiny, or public duty. He would play a commanding role in colonial politics and make his name—and one day his portrait would hang where everyone who was anyone could see it.

  * * *

  Abigail Phillips Quincy received a letter from Charleston at the end of March 1773. For weeks she had been worried about her husband; now she would know how he fared, if he still lived. She hesitated before opening the letter but then realized that her name on the envelope had been written in her husband’s careful hand.

  Josiah had arrived safely in Charleston on February 28. He wrote about the terrible voyage, and his fears: “I had not the least expectation of ever seeing you or my dear boy again; I was fully convinced we must perish.” He quickly assured his wife of his health—“everything looks favourable at present that way”—and wrote about the ample “trade, riches, magnificence, and great state” in Charleston, adding there was “much gayety and dissipation.”30

  In his journal, Josiah wrote of his determination to bring about a union of the northern and southern colonies, and immediately upon his safe arrival in Charleston, he set himself to the task. A month of luncheons and dinner parties, sightseeing tours and teas with government officials, musical hall concerts and horseback riding ensued. Through it all, Josiah dedicated himself to getting to know the people of the South, their ways, manners, proclivities, and political inclinations.

  Well-educated and well-mannered, soft-spoken and charming, of all the Sons of Liberty Josiah was best suited to the task of bringing the southern brothers into the fold of resistance against Britain. To the leaders of Charleston, who also happened to be the financial elite, this young Northerner seemed to be one of them: rich, savvy, cultured. He was well-d
ressed and well-shod and he powdered his hair just right. Josiah knew how to behave at the endless social gatherings hosted by southern gentility; he spoke easily with the men and understood the necessity of complimenting a woman upon her arrival into a room and escorting her into dinner.

  He knew good wine—in one home, he complimented “the richest wine I ever tasted: Exceeds Mr. Hancock’s … in flavour, softness, and strength”—and he recognized the virtue of a proper toast: “When passions rise may reason be the guide” was the toast of one young lady which he admiringly recorded.31

  From his southernmost stop in Charleston, Josiah gradually traveled northward. He continued to write in his journals, commenting on the rich exterior displays of the southern men and women he met along the way—“a richness and elegance uncommon with us”—but at the same time questioning their internal strengths: “Nothing that I now saw raised my conceptions of the mental abilities of this people.” And he later noted, “Cards, dice, the bottle and horses engross prodigious portions of time and attention.”32

  To Josiah, these Southerners were too absorbed by fun and games. He was scandalized by how their attendance at church on a Sunday was viewed as yet another occasion for socializing, not as the serious commitment to contemplation that churchgoing was in Congregationalist New England: “The Sabbath is a day of visiting and mirth with the Rich, and of license, pastime, and frolic for the negroes.”33

  Nevertheless, Josiah was heartened by meeting up with scores of active patriots, “hot and zealous in the Cause of America.”34 Once he finally encountered men he found to be of both sound mind and deep virtue, he felt that real friendships could be formed. After meeting Cornelius Harnett, described by Quincy as “the Samuel Adams of North Carolina,” and a man of “philosophy and virtue,” Josiah wrote, “From perfect strangers we became intimate—we formed an apparent affection and at parting both seem to be mutually and alike affected.”35

  Best of all, Josiah saw evidence of a sincere desire on the part of the southern patriots to unite with their northern counterparts: “The plan of Continental correspondence [is] highly relished, much wished for and resolved upon, as proper to be pursued.”36

  As he continued his travels northward, there would be places where he found less support for the continental union than he might have wished; “Boston aims at Nothing Less than sovereignty of the whole continent” accused one Southerner, and on another occasion, a Loyalist challenged “windbag” Josiah to a duel.37 Josiah promptly fainted and the Southerner claimed Josiah’s weakness was proof of the flaccidity of the northern patriots.

  But overall, as the weeks passed and the lands gave way to more familiar territories of apple orchards and grazing cows (after the peach trees, cotton, and tobacco of farther south), Josiah was encouraged by the individual colonies’ willingness to protest on behalf of their rights against Parliament and their interest in joining forces with colonies farther north.

  For Josiah, the most disturbing aspect of his southern travels was the prevalence of slave labor. Josiah was disgusted by it. He not only found slavery contemptible, but he could not fathom how a slave owner could father slave children and then treat them so horribly: the “White man begets his likeness, and with much indifference … sees his progeny in bondage and misery, and makes not one effort to redeem his own blood.”38

  He saw the treatment of slaves as indications of southern hypocrisy: “There is much among this people of what the world would call hospitality and politeness, [but] it may be questioned what proportion there is of true humanity, Christian charity, and love.”39 With prescience, he noted that the issue of slavery would prove divisive and that its eradication, while necessary, would be difficult: “Slavery may truly be said to the peculiar curse of this land.”40

  Arriving in Maryland, Josiah was unimpressed by “Annapolis … a mighty poor, diminutive, little city … [it] makes a very contemptible appearance”—but as he traveled on, he found much to admire in both Pennsylvania—“this well regulated province”—and New Jersey—“’Tis indeed a fine country.”41

  Letters were sent back and forth to Josiah via family friends and connections, keeping him in touch with his wife and his father, his brother Samuel, and friends back in Boston. From his father, Josiah learned that his “sister Lincoln” had visited Braintree but was “greatly worn out with her constant attendance upon a gloomy, fretful, and sick” husband; “it is truly pitiable and the more so as it seems without Remedy.”42

  Josiah Sr. continued on with a litany of illnesses—“your two sisters [children born of Anne Marsh] have had the measles” and Anne herself “has had a most fatiguing Time of it.” But thankfully, he wrote, he was healthy, and he looked forward to “your Wife’s and my dear little grandson’s coming … to tarry with us till she goes home to prepare for your reception.”43

  Josiah would soon be home, traveling up to New York City and from there taking a boat north to Rhode Island and onward to Massachusetts. The trip had been in many ways a success: important contacts had been made with southern patriots, including Charles Cotesworth Pinckney, Thomas Lynch, and Thomas Bee of South Carolina; William Hooper and Cornelius Harnett of North Carolina; and John Dickinson and Joseph Reed of Pennsylvania.

  Most important, Josiah now had a deeper understanding of what Northerners shared with Southerners, and where they differed.

  Josiah’s health was much improved as well, his cough having faded away to a slight hoarseness now and again. He slept soundly at night, with no touch of fever, and his appetite had returned, fed in part by a succession of local treats, such as salt fish in broth, meat pies, peach jellies and preserves, “two sorts of nuts, almonds, raisins, 3 sorts of olives, apples,” “sweet meats, oranges, Macarones, etc. etc.”44 Now he was bound for New York, where the chefs were reputed to be well trained and eager to show off.

  Josiah enjoyed New York, taking a tour of the whole city with delight. In the evenings, he indulged in the many entertainments offered; he wrote in his journal, “if I had stayed in town a month should go to the Theatre every acting night. But as a citizen and friend to the morals and happiness of society I should strive hard against the … Establishment of a Playhouse.”45 Josiah was a New England Congregationalist to the core. There would be no playhouses allowed in Boston until late in the eighteenth century; actors might tread the boards in dissolute New York City but not in Puritan Boston, not as long as Josiah lived there.

  And yet Josiah, judgmental Congregationalist that he was, also believed keenly in the freedom of religion. While traveling through the South, he experienced religious worship of all kinds, from Moravians to Quakers to Catholics to Presbyterians. Although he found little to admire in any of the practices (other than the music), at the same time he was adamantly in favor of its free exercise, as long as the power of God was acknowledged in its performance. After attending a Roman Catholic mass, he admitted, “In the words of the NEW England psalms—‘In me the fire enkindled is.’”

  He understood that his “sentiments and opinions may be presumed to be too much affected by former impression and byases [biases].”46 He also understood that unity between the colonies could only be achieved if the differences between them were accepted, and if liberty and freedom were as liberally granted to one faction as to another.

  Freedom: Josiah returned again and again in his journal to the question of slavery. He recognized its “barbarity” and predicted that “futurity will produce more and greater” problems arising from slavery. This was one issue on which he could not contemplate compromise: its continuation would inevitably result in “resentment, wrath, and rage.”47

  Josiah received news from his brother Samuel before departing New Jersey: “I had in my arms just a few minutes ago your Little Boy”—Josiah’s heart leapt at the thought of seeing his son soon—and then Sam added, “Things public and private remain much as they were when you left us. The Spring Ships arrived yesterday and the day before but not a Word of News respecting America.”4
8

  In writing to his brother, Samuel ignored the weeks of gossip concerning a packet of letters sent via the spring ships from Benjamin Franklin in London to Thomas Cushing, Speaker of the Massachusetts House. The letters were rumored to contain damning information about Governor Hutchinson’s treachery.

  Through his connections with Hancock and Sam Adams, John Adams had had a glimpse of the missives and wrote in his diary on March 22, the “Seventeen Letters, written … by Hutchinson, Oliver,… will ruin this Country.” The letters confirmed in Adams’ mind that Hutchinson and his allies were “deliberate Villains, malicious, and vindictive, as well as ambitious and avaricious … profoundly secret, dark, and deep.”49

  Josiah would wonder later: how could his brother Samuel have ignored news of the letters in writing to his younger brother? The dynamite they contained would start an explosion, and the reverberations would shake the colony to its core.

  18

  Anxiety and Apprehensions

  The Minds of the People were filled with Anxiety,

  and they were justly alarmed with Apprehensions

  of the total Extinction of their Liberties.

  —JOHN ADAMS

  In late May 1773, John Hancock stood up from his seat in the Massachusetts House of Representatives and walked to the center of the room. Josiah Quincy Jr. had returned from his southern journey just a few days earlier and was seated at the back, eager to catch up with local politics. John Adams was also present, having been recently reelected to the House, as was his cousin Sam Adams.

  With the boycott of British goods behind him, Hancock could dress again as he wished (and not only when leading his Cadets). That day he was resplendent in a scarlet jacket over a dark gray silk vest, and black breeches atop blinding white stockings. Looking all about him, making sure he had everyone’s attention, Hancock began to tell a story.