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JOHN ADAMS

WHERE
AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE
BEGAN
<©uincp, it^ f amoujBf oBtoup of^atnttt^;
€^eir SDecbjef, J^omeief, anb SDejefcenbantjsf
BY
DANIEL MUNEO WILSON
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS

BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY
(libe jSibetjibe ^te?^, Cambribse
1902

COPYRIGHT 1902 BY DANIEL MUNRO WILSON
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Published December, iqoz

TO MY WIFE
I DEDICATE THIS BOOK

PREFACE
My interest in the eminent men and -women who
have brought renown to old Braintree and Quincy
increased rather than diminished with the pub
Ucation o£ "The Chapel of Ease and Church
of Statesmen." Continued research, as far as
devotion to other duties permitted, beguiled me
ever more along the line of the development of
the ideas of liberty and independence as illus
trated in the aspirations and deeds of Sir Harry
Vane, the Rev. John Wheelwright, the Hoars,
the Adamses, the Quincys, and the Hancocks.
Here manifestly was a story of patriotic vision
and achievement which had not been adequately
told, at least in its continuity through so many
successive generations of the leading famihes.
As its various aspects claimed attention, a lecture
or an article was written, and the whole finaUy
wrought into the shape presented in these pages.
This manner in which the book grew occasions
a few repetitions; but these, it is hoped, wiU
only deepen the local coloring.

vi PEEFACE
To many persons I am indebted for gener
ous cooperation, and eagerness to make acknow
ledgment is the real excuse for this preface.
The writings of Charles Francis Adams the
younger, especiaUy his " Three Episodes in
Massachusetts History," — that fascinating nar
rative of the life of a town and of the evolution
of a State in one, — have afforded a wealth of
facts and suggestions. Mrs. Sarah H. Swan's
too brief " Story of an Old House," pubUshed in
the " New England Magazine," yielded helpful
material ; and the researches of Mr. Lewis Bass
and Mr. Ed-win W. Marsh of Quincy, two " of
the few remaining specimens of the antique
stock," profited me much. Through the courtesy
of Mr. Adams, Mr. J. P. Quincy, and Miss Alice
Bache Gould, I was enabled to secure photo
graphs of treasured portraits which appear among
the iUustrations. To Mr. Fred B. Rice and Mr.
Harry L. Rice I am also indebted for photo
graphs and efiicient cooperation. Foster Bro
thers and Mr. C. B. Webster of Boston kindly
furnished artistic reproductions of portraits and
pictures of Quincy homes and scenes ; the " New
England Magazine " cordially permits the incor
poration of the article on Tutor Flynt; and the
Massachusetts Historical Society generously gave

PREFACE vii
access to its treasures, so weU represented in the
sketches of Miss EUza Susan Quincy. To these
and aU others who rendered assistance, and they
are many, I extend my most grateful thanks.
Daniel Mtjnko Wilson.
Brookl-tn, N. Y., November, 1902.

CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. Freedom's Heirs and Heritage .... 1
n. License before Liberty  14
in. Liberty checked  27
rv. Judith ahd Joanna  42
V. The Great Advocate of Independence, John Adams 62
VI. The Puritan President, John Qoincy Adams . . 106
-yil. Charles Francis Adams AND the War FOR THE Union 122
-VTII. The Colonial Colonels  147
IX. Dorothy Q. and Other Dorothys .... 191
X. Tutor Flynt, New England's Earliest Humorist 228
XI. Perambulation op Quincy  250

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS FASE
John Adams. By Copley  Frontispiece
Original in Memorial HaU, Harvard University,
John Hancock. By Copley  10
Original in the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.
Site op Anne Hutchinson's Fabm  28
Mouth op "Mount Wollaston Kivbr"  28
Kev. John Wheelwright. Artist unknown  32
Original in State House, Boston.
First Church prom Old Burying-ground  56
Coddington's Newport House  56
Birthplace op the Presidents  68
Sketch by Miss E. S. Quincy, 1822.
Abigail Adams. By Blythe  76
Owned by the Adams family.
Adams Mansion (Vassall House)  98
Sketch by Miss E. S. Quincy, 1822.
Quincy Village  102
Sketch by Miss E. S. Quincy, 1822.
John Quincy Adams. By Copley  108
Original in the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. Owned by
the Adams family.
Louisa Catherine (Johnson) Adams. Artist unknown . . 108
Owned by the Adams family.
Adams Mansion  118
From a recent photograph.
DbA WING-ROOM IN AdAMS MANSION  118
Photographed during occupancy of C. F. Adams.
Charles Francis Adams  122
From a photograph.
Abigail Brown (Brooks) Adams. By W. M. Hunt . . . 124
Owned by the Adams family.
John Quincy Adams  140
From a photograph.
Charles Francis Ajdams, the Younger  142
From a recent photograph.
Charles Francis Adams, 2d  144

xii LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Abigail Adams of to-day  144
Older Quincy Mansion  148
Judge Edmund Quincy. By Smibert  160
Original in the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. Owned by the
Quincy family. From a, photograph copyrighted 1897
by Foster Bros.
Older Quincy Mansion  162
Sketch by Miss E. S. Quincy, 1822.
Edmund Quincy  . • 172
From a portrait owned by Mrs. S. Andrews of Roxbury.
Elizabeth (Wendell) Quincy. By Smibert  172
Owned by Mrs. WiUiam D. Hodges.
Colonel Josiah Quincy, 1709-84. By Copley . . . . 176
Owned by Mr. J. P. Quincy.
Later Quincy Mansion, buUt by Colonel Quincy  176
Sketch by Miss E. S. Quincy, 1822.
Samuel Quincy, the Tory. By Copley  178
Josiah Quincy, Jr. By Stuart  180
Original in the Old State House, Boston.
President Josiah Quincy. By Stuart  182
Original in the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. From a
photograph copyrighted 1897 by Foster Bros.
Josiah Quincy, Mayor op Boston, 1846-48  186
Josiah Quincy, Mayor op Boston, 1895-99  188
"Dorothy Q." Artist unknown  ^ . . 204
Owned by Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes.
DmiNG-EOOM Older Quincy Mansion . .  212
Dorothy Hancock. By Copley ....  224
Original in the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. Owned by
Mr. Stephen Bowen of Boston.
" Dorothy Q." op to-day  . . 226
Tutor Flynt  230
From an oil painting presented to Harvard College in 1787.
Tutor Flynt's Study .  234
Photographed during occupancy of Hon. Peter Butler.
Tutor Flynt's Chamber  240
Quincy Centre  250
Henry H. Faxon ... ,  254
The Abigail Adams Caibn  258
Birthplace op President John Quincy Adams .... 258
Kesedbnce op Mrs. John Quincy Adams ... ... 262
Quarries of the Granite Railway Company  264
Thomas Crane  . 270
Crane Memorial Hall  . 270

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS xiii
JOHM ALEXAia>EB GOBDON, M. D  274
Adams Academy  276
Presidents' Lane  276
AnAMg Street  278
City Hospitai,  278

WHERE AMERICAN INDEPEN
DENCE BEGAN

freedom's heirs and HERITAGE
American independence, stiU the latest heroic
achievement of humanity, and momentous enough
to furnish the date for the beginning of modern
history, presents itself to the ordinary imagina
tion as the s-wift and common aspiration of a
united people. Popularly it is supposed that
at once and everywhere throughout the thirteen
colonies, government by the consent of the gov
erned suddenly flamed wide and far as a noble
ideal to be realized. And this is true, in the
main, if we regard chiefly the armed conflict,
that tragic drama, which registered the height
of revolt against the oppressive measures of a
mad king and his " deluded ministers." Spon
taneous was the outburst of patriotic valor from
the river St. Croix to Florida.
" Don't fire unless fired upon ! " cried Captain
Parker as the British regulars deployed before
his minute-men on Lexington green, " but if
they mean to have war let it begin here." And

2 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
'' begin here " it did, a continent in arms re
sponding to its first volley.
But long before that fateful prelude many
of those who now rushed to arms had cherished
the thought of independence. Although not
commonly held, it was in the air, as is the nature
of the next high human attainment, fitfuUy con
centrating in regions far apart, and flashing out
in electric disturbances. More than this, it may
be safely asserted that in certain parts of the
country the people were self-governing from the
moment they set foot on these shores. They
would abide no interference with their " just
liberties," and, as Burke said, they " snuffed the
approach of tyranny in every tainted breeze."
Independence ! It was no new thing to them
when first flung as a battle-cry in the face of
British aggression ; they had never been any
thing but independent. True are the words of
Mellen Chamberlain, who writes, " The mainte
nance of independence, rather than its acquire
ment, originated in a province, but at length,
and mainly through the influence of John Adams,
controlled the heart of the continent." To the
same effect is the utterance of John Adams him
self. Up to him many looked as to the source of
the idea of American self-government. With be
coming modesty, as well as conspicuous wisdom,
he wrote, " Independence of EngUsh Church and
State was the fundamental principle of the first

FREEDOM'S HEIRS AND HERITAGE 3
colonization, has been its general principle for
two hundred years, and I hope now is past dis
pute. Who, then, was the author, inventor, dis
coverer of independence ? The only true answer
must be, the first emigrants."
Of New England's " first emigrants " this is
especially true. Plymouth colony was a pure
democracy from the beginning ; and in the de
velopment of the Puritan settlements nothing
is more marked than the resolute way in which
unequal laws, favored at first by the few, were
thrust aside, and the audacious persistence with
which all interference by the mother country
was opposed. The old ways of thinking and the
habitual deference to social traditions faded
away, now that they were removed three thou
sand miles from England, and left them free
men in a wide world where only what was free
eventuaUy flourished. Governor Winthrop and
others of the " better sort " brought with them
remnants of the rule of the English squirearchy.
They doubted the ability of the common people
to govern themselves. " The best part of the
people is always the least," was the sage utter
ance of Winthrop, " and of the best part the wiser
is always the lesser." Soon, however, is it rue
fully noted by minister Ward that " the spirits
of the people run high and what they get they
hold." In town meetings (how Jefferson wished
Virginia had them in the hour of controversy ! ),

4 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
where all had equal voice if not equal vote ; in
independent churches, where differences between
" brethren " graduaUy disappeared in the leveling
sight of God, they exercised the natural and un
constrained rights of man. What to them was
the " divine right of kings," when plain men
could draw their laws from an open Bible and
their manhood direct from the Almighty ? Thus
it was that supremacy in human affairs was
shifted from the hereditary prince, who felt him
self chosen of God, to farmers, mechanics, and
tradesmen, who were persuaded they also had
something divine in them. " Kings were made
for the good of the people," declared James
Otis in 1762, "and not the people for them."
Long before that time many were troubled in
their minds to know what kings were made for
anyway. In their conflict -with the Crown the settlers
modestly claimed only the rights and Uberties
of Englishmen. They asked for no more ; they
would be contented with nothing less. As a
matter of fact, however, they enjoyed a degree
of freedom far beyond the dreams of the Eng
lishman at home. But they had one thing in
common with the men over sea, — a boundless
respect for law and written documents. So be
cause they had a king's charter with a big seal,
they were supported in their beUef that it was
only the ancient liberties of the mother country

FREEDOM'S HEIRS AND HERITAGE 5
for which they were contending. The first gen
eration had not passed away when Governor Win
throp recorded what seemed to be the common
opinion, — that their charter endowed them with
"absolute powers of government ; for thereby we
have power to make laws, to erect aU sorts of
magistracy, to correct, to punish, pardon, govern,
and rule the people absolutely." That charter
was a miraculous document. Tliere was not any
thing in the way of human rights that they could
not get out of it. As Daniel W. Howe writes
in " The Puritan Republic," " the colonists viewed
the charter granted them as a sort of compact
guaranteeing them the right to set up an inde
pendent government of their own." Given them
by Charles I., they quoted it against Charles II.
They openly defied that " Merry Monarch " in
his occasional attempts to seriously play the king.
They were actually in rebelUon, " and there is
not the sUghtest doubt," says Howe, "that they
would have been in armed rebellion if they had
felt themselves ' abel ' to maintain it with any
assurance of success."
What the colonists were interpreting in this
momentous controversy was not the charter, but
human nature. Our ancestral god Thor, in his
drinking bout with the giants, imagined he was
draining only the great horn he put to his lips ;
but the horn was secretly connected with the
ocean, and it was the universal flood he was

6 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
straining to drink dry. So in drawing upon the
charter for their liberties the men of Massachu
setts were not merely exhausting the limited ele
ments of that instrument : they were imbibing
principles of absolute right and justice from that
infinite source, the aspiring heart of man, where
the divine and human are one. Charles U. and
his ministers looked with utter amazement and
impatience upon this performance, and when the
Massachusetts General Court insultingly delayed
yet again to send agents to treat of our " patent
liberties," sheltering themselves behind the ludi
crous excuse that " proper persons were afraid of
the seas, as the Turkish pirate had lately taken
their vessels," the king with a rough hand hur
ried the decree through the Court of Chancery
which forever " canceled and annihilated " the
precious charter. Two years later, in 1686, the
first royal governor, Edmund Andros, arrived in
Boston. Behind him was the undi-vdded power
of England and the wrath of the narrow-minded
James II. Eesistance was useless. Massachu
setts, with a contumaciousness beyond that of
every other province, had longest resisted the im
position of a royal governor. Now for aU her
bra-^dng of absolutism, she was to feel the full
measure of oppression. With hardly another
privUege left them than "not to be sold as
slaves," her people lay prostrate. The thing
their independent spirits had feared had come

FREEDOM'S HEIRS AND HERITAGE 7
upon them. In bitterness of soul they meditated
upon it — and waited. When time should serve
they would rest in no neglect of their overlords
across the sea ; they would trust in no charter,
in no word of a king, for their Uberties. Of all
these limitations they would free themselves when
God should grant them opportunity. The mo
ment struck, so it seemed to them, when in the
Eevolution of 1688 the Stuarts were swept from
the throne. Andros was seized, " bound in
chains and cords," and for five weeks or more
a Committee of Safety carried on the business
of government.
But the end was not yet. Another charter
was thrust upon them, and other governors were
set to rule over them. Not as in the days of
Andros were they again crushed beneath the yoke
of ruthless despotism. Tyranny became trans
formed into something like the suzerainty which
modern nations conceive may be in keeping with
a high degree of civiUzation. It was at times
quite reasonable. Indeed, England never ex
ploited the colonies for her own benefit, if we
leave out the colossal selfishness of her com
merce. The " taxation without representation "
was to raise money to be used entirely in the
provinces. " Not a farthing was to leave Amer
ica." Yet, however mUd the rule, it was not
that of free men : it was not with the entire con
sent of the governed. Emanating from a remote

8 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
and unsympathetic source, from a government in
which they had no representation, from the will
of a monarch who claimed to own them and
their lands, it was in the nature of things capri
cious. The men of the Bay would have none
of it. They contested every measure which did
not originate -with themselves. While some of
the other provinces basked contentedly in the
smiles of the royal governors and " far-off splen
dors of the Crown," they were in perpetual con
flict with Dudley, Hutchinson, and the rest.
And when at last the sternest repressive measures
were imposed upon the colonists, and many coun
seled submission, the stubborn resistance of the
patriots of Massachusetts increased in sublimest
proportion. Even Benjamin FrankUn, acting as
commissioner from Pennsylvania, acquiesced in
the Stamp Act and was prepared to solicit posi
tions of stamp distributors for his friends ; but
Boston led Hartford and other places in the
Puritan colony in tumult against it.
Thus the free spirit of the men of Massachu
setts, long disciplined in a strife which seemed
discouragingly unequal, — the massive weight
of old-world absolutism darkly arrayed against
the cherished light of a new-world dawning,
— beckoned the heroic road to armed revolt.
Resolutely foUowed the other colonists, daring all
for what was seen to be the common cause, re
sponding generously with that " swift validity in

FREEDOM'S HEIRS AND HERITAGE 9
noble veins." It was the test of American man
hood and ideals, and in their triumph was regis
tered the faithfulness and valor of the patriots.
For precisely this manifestation of worth was
waiting the next disclosure in human develop
ment. ThrUled are we to-day as the significance
of the event looms large in the expanding power
of the United States, whose fame and conquests
(alas, that they are not all peaceable ! ) —
"shower the fiery grain
Of freedom broadcast over all that orbs
Between the northern and the southern morn."
Independence dowered man with the gift of
himself — with the right to be himself and to
express himself. For all time now, and for the
multitude, the way is open for the free unfolding
of that supreme marvel and mystery, man's own
being. Robust and self-assertive may be the
manner in which democracy, in these too strenu
ous days, improves its chance. It is life, unmis
takably, free and aspiring life, with the moral
ideal for permanent law. In the complete Uber^
ation of human energy which almost appalls us;
in the swift gathering of immeasurable forces;
in the alignment of the new and the old so con
fusedly mingled, we may still see the command
ing power of America's ideas of independence
and of the rights of man. These flung into the
surging advance of civilization surely must in
some fateful measure order its course and sub
due its turbulence.

10 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
But obedience to the best for which the fathers
fought halts at times deplorably; sorrowfully
we are aU saying it. Liberty is both abused
and denied, — ideals are contemptuously flouted
by brutal greed ; the people are exploited ;
and independence won in the political field is
threatened with defeat in the industrial field.
Too new are the far-reaching commercial and
industrial combinations of the hour for us to
rightly estimate their effect upon individual
liberty. Yet we surely know enough to realize
that we have entered upon the next great phase
in the evolution of society, and to fear that imder
the sway of vast corporations, both legitimate
and buccaneering, we may aU become under
lings. " And we petty men
Walk under his huge legs and peep about
To find ourselves dishonorable graves."
The situation is, in its intensity, peculiarly
American, the logical outcome of our first "vic
tory for independence. Here human energies
were earliest Uberated, and here they have come
to their most amazing development. Our in
dustrial leaders, our trust magnates, our miUion-
aires, are they not of the people, men from the
ranks, who are winners in a game the most of us
play or applaud ? The sons of liberty in aU
this Yankee nation, alert, direct in methods, are
applying the marvels of their inventive genius

JOHN HANCOCK

FREEDOM'S HEIRS AND HERITAGE 11
and organizing capacity to the fecund earth and
an expanding commerce, in a passion to make a
living, and a good one. The resulting opulence,
grasped at by most, is being garnered in aston
ishing heaps by the shrewd and enterprising. A
perUous state of affairs, we say ; but is it not
the result of the "American idee: to make a
man and let him be " ? And is not the situation
relieved somewhat by the splendid administra
tive abiUty and unprecedented generosity exhib
ited ? We seem at times to be but one remove
from the reign of the ideal captains of industry,
who -wiU consider their endowments as sacred
as those of prophet, or teacher, or Father of
his country, and consecrate themselves, their
methods, and their opportunities to the ser-piee
of their race. However this may be, the way
out of our troubles, it is not too much to say,
wUl be won by the same free energy which has
brought us to where we are, — that is indomitable.
We may be astounded at its excesses ; we must
marvel at its possibUities. Independence jealously
upheld before trusts and poUtical " bosses," and
unselfishly communicated, as a sacrament, to the
nation's wards is, as John Adams prophesied with
his parting breath, " Independence forever ! "
In no other community in the colony of
Massachusetts was the love of independence
more central than in the North Precinct of
the old town of Braintree, later set off and

12 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
named Quincy. Nowhere else was the right
of self-government more tenaciously held, and
no other spot is more sacredly devoted to free
dom by the sacrifices and cherished visions of
its inhabitants. So typical in its development
that C. F. Adams, the younger, iUustrates by it
the unfolding thought and institutions of Massa
chusetts ; it is also renowned for anticipating be
yond other towns the manifest destiny of the
colonies. There the word Independence had its
earliest historical utterance, and there some of
its most illustrious champions had their origin.
John Adams, the great advocate of inde
pendence, and Samuel Adams, the "Father of
the American Revolution," had in Henry Adams
of Braintree the same progenitor. They were
cousins in the fourth generation from that " first
emigrant," Henry. Though Samuel was born in
Boston, September 16, 1722, he was so closely
associated with the Braintree cousins and so aUied
to them in the essential qualities of character
that it is not going too far afield to include
him within that group of famous persons who
made the annals of this ancient town on the
south of Boston so memorable -with their high
aspirations and devoted patriotism. These two
are commanding figures, but other men, sons of
old Braintree and Quincy, men whose names
will never be obliterated from the splendid page
which tells the story of the Revolution, stood

FREEDOM'S HEIRS AND HERITAGE 13
with them, shoulder to shoulder in the hour of
conflict. We have but to name the Quincys and
John Hancock, to indicate their high character
and achievements. Add to these Abigail Adams
and the " Dorothy Q." who married Hancock,
and there is presented a group of distinguished
patriots hardly excelled by that which made
famous the far larger town of Boston.
In the aspirations and heroisms of that Uttle
community of Braintree, now Quincy, was sur
prisingly manifested the genius of the Ameri
can people. There, if it may be said of any one
place. Independence began. Its history is on a
small scale the record of the development of the
ideals of the RepubUc ; its great citizens in
every critical period devoted themselves with
entire unselfishness and telling powers to the
ser-vice of the nation. Few towns can boast
of annals more brightly colored, not only with
the deeds of patriots, but with the surprises of
romance ; not only with the sturdy enterprises
of plain Uberty-lo-ving farmers, but with the
debonair discourse and activities of the colo
nial gentiUty.

II
LICENSE BEFORE LIBERTY
For a region predestined to witness the
triumphs of sober, industrious men and women
and aspiring patriots, that parcel of the green
earth known as Quincy presented an opening
scene so ludicrous, so opera bouffe in character,
as to be prophetic of everything but the actual
event. A set of scapegraces possessed it, who
played out their fantastic tricks as if in illustra
tion of the kind of people from which no great
nation can originate. Here, between serious
Plymouth on the one side and Puritan Boston
on the other, were wUdly enacted two of the most
" singular and incongruous episodes " which
light up New England history. Sir Christopher
Gardiner, Knight of the Holy Sepulchre, and
his "comly Yonge Woman " built their bower on
a hummock overlooking the Neponset River, se
curing a retreat only too transitory from inquisi
tive Boston and a cold world, much disturbed
because she had a past, and he lived a double
life ; and little more than a mile away rises
Mount Wollaston, that opprobrious hUl, that
" Mount Dagon " (as the brethren of Plymouth

LICENSE BEFORE LIBERTY 15
and Boston united to caU it) where Thomas
Morton and his set of runagates let themselves
loose in the freedom of the wilderness.
Motley, in his romance of " Merry-Mount,"
and Hawthorne, in his " Maypole of Merry-
Mount," entertain us delightfully with the ex
ploits of Morton and his fellows. Grave History
herself, in the " Three Episodes," while trying
to tie to truth the untethered imaginations of
the romancers, laughs out in delight and derision
as she contemplates the uncouth hilarity of the
rude settlers and the comedy of their suppression
by Miles Standish and Governor Endicott. Mor
ton deliberately formed a band of free compan
ions out of the servants of Captain WoUaston,
who in 1625 set up a trading-post on the shore.
This was done while Wollaston was on a voyage
to Virginia, where, if he did not sell anything
else, he profitably disposed of some of the ser
vants, or of the years of labor yet to be fulfiUed
according to the bond of their indentures. Such
a procedure, threatening to break up the Massa
chusetts settlement, troubled Morton, and at the
same time furnished him with an argument to
win the assent of the remaining servants to the
scheme he had been hatching. He was an ener
getic man, a leader among them, being one of
the gentlemen adventurers who had planned
the expedition. Withal he was a poet ; that is,
a good enough poet to throw off a tavern catch

16 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
or to indite a dubious ballad to the barmaid,
and had professional training sufiicient to be
scornfully characterized by Governor Bradford
of Plymouth as a " kind of a pettifogger of
Furnevell's Inne." He described himself as " of
Clifford's Inn, Gent." "This man," writes
Adams, " born a sportsman, bred a lawyer, in
grained a humorist and an adventurer, by
some odd freak of destiny was flung up as a waif
in the wilderness on the shores of Boston Bay."
It was in the fall of 1626 that Morton induced
the few unsold servants to throw off all allegiance
to Captain Wollaston, and form a band of equals,
with him at their head, to the end that they
might get all profit in trade with the Indians
and live as they pleased. So it came about that
here in the shade of the solemn woods, here
against the austere background of Puritanism,
was exhibited a transplanted bit of the boister
ous animaUsm of the unregenerate EngUshman
of that day, who swaggered as kingsman and
cavalier in contemptuous flouting of all Round
heads and sour fanatics. Here were " cakes and
ale " for all, in the large log house which shel
tered them. And here on May Day, 1627, was
set up, with abundant shouting and carousing, a
mighty Maypole, eighty feet high, garlanded
with ribbons and surmounted with the spreading
antlers of a buck. Morton was " mine host " of
the occasion. He furnished a barrel of beer and

LICENSE BEFORE LIBERTY 17
stronger liquors in bottles, and afiixed to the
pole a poem, which, as he said, " being Enig
matically composed, pusselled the Separatists
most pittifuUy to expound it." A song he made
also ; and at the psychological moment when aU
had joined hands about the Maypole and were
warmed with driuk, a tuneful reveler " without
any mitigation or remorse of voice " chanted
the staves, the rest joining with ready chorus.
Around it and around, in wild whirling, danced
the Bacchanals and the " lasses in beaver coats."
" Drink and be merry, merry, merry boys," they
sang, and the forest resounded to the refrain, —
" Io, to Hymen now the day is come !
About the merry May-pole take a Roome."
It was n't puritanical. The scandal of it amazed
Plymouth and Salem. To be sure, Morton, in a
serious moment, when he was bidding for sup
port against the Puritans, asserted that he " was
a man that endeavored to advance the dignity of
the Church of England," and wished it to be
understood that the good time of the boys was
tempered with " the laudable use of the Book of
Common Prayer." Puritanism was all the more
resolved to have none of them, and a Uttle
later, when they imperiled the entire colony by
selling firearms to the savages, the abolition of
misrule was no longer delayed. Suddenly Miles
Standish and his invincible army descended upon
Merry-Mount and captured Morton ; Endicott

18 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
with grim promptitude sailed over from Salem
and hewed down the Maypole ; and finally, when
Morton was being conveyed in a vessel to Eng
land, events were so timed that his house was
burned in his sight, to the end " that the habi
tation of the wicked should no more appear in
Israel." It was root and branch work, reso
lutely meant to be such. But do we not see, by
the Ught of these modern days, that it was the
Puritan, for all his assumed dominion, who was
the sporadic and the passing ? His reign is over.
It is now, as ever, " Drink and be merry, merry
boys ! " Pleasure is in the saddle, and " It 's
ride mankind ! "
What of Sir Christopher Gardiner aU this
time, that gentle knight of romance, who was in
the very storm centre of this raging of the deep
est passions of the human heart ? He, too, was
swept from his chosen retreat, and suffered vicis
situdes as surprising as any that had hitherto
befallen him in his adventurous life. His " coun
try seat " was near enough Merry-Mount for him
to see the smoke of the destruction of its strong
hold, and it is not at all unlikely that he often
enjoyed its camaraderie before it was scattered
up and down the coast by Miles Standish. As
sent is to be yielded to Longfellow when, by the
lips of " the Landlord," he says that Gardiner
made smaU account of his professions to join the
Puritan church, —

LICENSE BEFORE LIBERTY 19
" And passed his idle hours instead
With roystering Morton of Merry-Mount,
That pettifogger from Furuival's Inn,
Lord of misrule and riot and sin.
Who looked on the wine when it was red."
Brief was the knight's sojourn on these shores,
but there is no doubt that every moment of the
time he was an object of absorbing interest.
He arrived here in April of 1630, about a month
before Winthrop and his company began the
settlement of Boston. The singularity of such
a hermit in the wilderness immediately attracted
the attention of the newcomers. There was an
air of mystery about him ; his life and purpose
were not above suspicion. Less than this was
enough to arouse the piercing inqnisitiveness of
the Puritans. Where did he come from ? Why
was he here ? Who was the " comly Yonge wo
man " with whom he Uved ? He gave it out
that he was weary of Ufe in the Old Vf orld, su
perior now, as may be imagined, to its sins and
vanities, and sought for himself and his " cousin,
Mary Grove," rest in the peaceful wilderness.
How touching this return to nature ! A Uttle
worldly pride remained, however, — blood will
assert itself, — for he intimated that his father
was brother to the famous Stephen Gardyner,
Bishop of Winchester and lord chancellor of
Queen Mary, whom Shakespeare makes Henry
VIII. describe as of " a cruel nature and
bloody." Mr. Adams, in his careful monograph

20 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
on Gardiner, contests so close a relationship.
It is evident, he admits, that he was a man of
culture, widely acquainted with the world, and
a genuine knight. For this — and his cousinly
relations — he certainly deserved the distin
guished consideration accorded him by Governor
Winthrop and the other Boston magistrates.
" It was Sir Christopher Gardiner,
Knight of the Holy Sepulchre,
From Merry England over the sea,
Who stepped upon this continent
As if his august presence lent
A glory to the colony.
" You should have seen him in the street
Of the little Boston of Winthrop's time,
His rapier dangling at his feet.
Doublet and hose and boots complete,
Prince Rupert hat with ostrich plume.
Gloves that exhaled a faint perfume.
Luxuriant curls and air sublime.
And superior manners now obsolete ! "
For the " swagger " clothes in which Long
fellow arrays the knight, the Puritans would
have no regard. They scorned with more than
Carlyle's bitterness the " despicable biped " who
trusted in appearances and was only ornamental.
So when the shameful news came from England
that he " had two -wives now living at a house in
London," they commended their prophetic souls
with an " I told you so," and prepared to dis
cipline Gardiner at the earliest opportunity. The
two -wives had not Uved long together. Con-

LICENSE BEFORE LIBERTY 21
tinuous aud amicable relations are not usual
with such, outside of Mormondom. They had
just foregathered. The first Lady Gardiner,
whom he had married in Paris, hearing he had
again married in England, hurried over in search
of him. But she came too late, and found
only the second Lady Gardiner anxiously looking
up his whereabouts. Besides betraying and de
serting her, after the knightly fashion of King
Charles's court, he had, so she declared, robbed
her of " many rich jewels, much plate, and costly
service." The wives joined in a petition that he
should be sent back to England. Wife the first
still loved him and hoped to convert him ; wife
the second craved his destruction and a chance
to express her mind to that ordinary wretch,
Mary Grove, with whom he was now living in
America. Gardiner, suspiciously alert, caught the rumor
that the news of his double life was circulating in
Boston and that the magistrates were likely to ap
prehend him. As a matter of record they had voted,
summarily and regardless of anything that he
might say in his own defense, to send him a pris
oner to England. From his home on a woody
hummock on the south of the Neponset a sharp
lookout was kept up and down the river, and at the
first sight of the ofiicers coming to arrest him, he
was off, with a gun on his shoulder and " rapier
dangling at his feet," and away into the wilder-

22 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
ness. Only the servants and Mary Grove, " the
little lady with golden hair," as LongfeUow de
scribes her, were found in the house. Mary was
arrested, and when brought before her stern
judges quite bafiled them, so " impertinent and
close " was she, " confessing no more than was
wrested from her by her own contradictions."
" So," continues Dudley, " we have taken order
to send her to the two -wives in old England to
search her further." It was about the end of
March, 1631, that the descent was made upon
Gardiner's home, and for a month or so he
ranged the woods in the mud and chUl of New
England's early spring. Then the Indians, in
cited thereto by the governor of Plymouth, cap
tured him in the neighborhood of Taunton River.
" When they came near him," wrote Bradford
in his " Plimoth Plantation," " whUst he pre
sented his piece at them to keep them off, the
streame carried ye canow against a rock, and
tumbled both him and his pece & rapier into
ye water ; yet he got out, and having a Uttle
dagger by his side, they durst not close with
him, but getting longe pols, they soone beat his
dagger out of his hand, so he was glad to yeeld ;
and they brought him to ye Govr. But his
hands and armes were swolen & very sore with
ye blowes they had given him. So he used him
kindly, & sent him to a lodging wher his armes
were bathed and anoynted, and he was quickly

LICENSE BEFORE LIBERTY 23
well agayne, and blamed ye Indians for beating
him so much. They said that they did but a
Uttle whip him with sticks."
The Plymouth people passed him on to the
Boston magistrates, together with a " little] note
booke that by accidente had slipt out of his
pockett, or some private place, in which was a
memoriaU what day he was reconciled to ye pope
& church of Rome, and in what universitie he
took his scapula and such and such degrees."
Anticipate now what measure of retribution
would be meted out by the stern Puritans to this
dissembling Catholic, this " Snake which Lay
Latent in the Tender Grass," this faithless hus
band and violator of half the commandments. He
himself looked for the worst they could do. Did
he not have in mind all they had wrought upon
Morton ? What actually ensued is the surprise
of the whole episode, and the closing chapter of
his New England experience is surely one of the
drollest in colonial history. Governor Winthrop
neither disciplined him nor sent him a prisoner to
England, but used" him according to his qualitie,"
and gave him the freedom of the town. He was
saved by the mystery attendant upon his knightly
presence among exiled separatists and wild sav
ages. This they could not quite penetrate. The
" woman in the case " was no sufiicient explana
tion, and they had respect for the unknown
which yet lurked in the shadows of his career.

24 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
At last it leaked out (they intercepted his let
ters) that he was the secret agent of Sir Ferdi
nando Gorges, who was contesting before the
Crown the right of the Puritans to great tracts
of land north of Boston. Now that the heart of
his mystery was plucked out, he became in their
eyes a poor creature, and they suffered him to
go up and down as he pleased. Like another
Sir PhUip Sidney, his knightly spirit resorted to
poetry to relieve the tedium of exile. Here is a
poem of his, composed, as Morton ironicaUy ob
served, as a testimony of Gardiner's "love towards
them that were so ill affected towards him : " —
" Wolves in sheep's clothing, why -will ye
Think to deceive God that doth see
Your simulated sanctity ?
For my part I do wish you could
Your own infirmities behold.
For then you would not be so bold.
Like Sophists, why will you dispute
With wisdom so ? For shame, be mute !
Lest great Jehovah, with his power.
Do come upon you in an hour
When you least think, and you devour."
Through the summer of 1631 he Uved in
Boston and at his home on the banks of the Ne
ponset, and then in the month of August he was
associated once more with Mary Grove in a man
ner eminently proper and prosaic. How tragi
cally the romancers end her fateful destiny ! In
" Hope LesUe " she is overcome with jealousy,
sets fire to a barrel of gunpowder on board a
ship in Boston Harbor, and in a moment " the

LICENSE BEFORE LIBERTY 25
hapless girl, — her guUty destroyer, — his vic
tim, — the crew, — the vessel, rent to fragments,
were hurled into the air and soon enguKed in
the waves." Motley, in " Merry-Mount," brings
her to despair, in which mood she steals from
her guardians into a December landscape, where
"the driving hurricanes wrapped her as she
slept in an icy winding sheet, and the -wintry
wind sounded her requiem in the tossing pine
branches." Then, more kindly, Mr. John T.
Adams, in his " Knight of the Golden Melice,"
sends her back to Europe in noble company, as
befitted one highly born, to end her days peace
fully as abbess of Saint Idlewhim. Lastly, Whit
tier, in "Margaret Smith's Journal," confesses
he had not learned what became of Sir Christo
pher and the " young woman his cousin," whUe
LongfeUow melodiously sings that the governor
" sent her away iu a ship that sailed
For Merry England over the sea,
To the other two wives in the old countree,
To search her further, since he had failed
To come at the heart of the mystery."
But what are the facts ? Plain as the unearthed
bones of neoUthic man, precious to science, Mr.
C. F. Adams, the younger, spreads them before
us unadorned. Thomas Purchase, a pioneer of
Maine, saUed into Boston in search of axes, fish-
lines, etc., and a wife. He met Mary Grove, who
found favor in his eyes. All in a week or two,
as the need was, he courted and married her,

26 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
and then when they set their faces eastward
the knight himself went with them. What sim
plicity and artlessness and frank abandon of
social prejudices ! It was all proper enough —
could it be anything else with the Puritans for
sponsors ? And how deUciously level with the
elemental needs of the natural man ! He needed
shelter and comfort, and she had both to bestow.
Their home was in that part of the Maine plan
tations now known as the town of Brunswick
and celebrated as the seat of Bowdoin College,
and here Gardiner abode tiU midsummer of 1632,
when he returned to England.
Only one trace of his life in the Purchase
domicile remains. It is, however, luminous.
Nine years after he safled away Thomas Purchase
was compeUed by the court to pay for a fowUng
piece the knight had bought and for a warming
pan he had borrowed in the name of his host.
Most strenuously " T. Purchase denies ever au
thorizing Sir C. Gardiner to buy " either article;
but poetic justice was done. The cost of the
warming pan which comforted the first partner
of Mary Grove came, as was due, from the pocket
of the second partner. " Considering aU the
circumstances of the case, the inclemency of the
season and the place and the agency through
which Sir Christopher's couch had been widowed,
the intrinsic justice of the finding is apparent."

Ill
LIBERTY CHECKED
The wilderness was left once raore to its sa
cred silences and the summer's monody of wind
and wave, and so had slept for four years, when
the men of serious temper, fit founders of homes
and buUders of states, appeared upon the scene.
Most of them migrated from Boston, where the
earUest settlers, wrought upon by the keen earth-
hunger of the Anglo-Saxon, were feeling crowded
on their three-hilled peninsula. Some came di
rectly from ship in the company organized by the
Rev. Thomas Hooker, which began to " sit down
at the Mount," but were soon ordered elsewhere.
Among these, it is probable, was Henry Adams,
with his large famUy, who was contented to abide
on the beautiful spot where first he had erected
his roug-h shelter. Notable has he become as
the earliest American ancestor of the Presidents.
Interest then centred, however, upon two men
who were among those of most consideration
in the Boston settlement. Stout WUliam Cod
dington and Edmund Quincy were granted large
aUotments of land by the town of Boston in
1635, and they now saUed over to " the Mount,"

28 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
where Boston " had enlargement," to bound out
their quite baronial acres. Coddington was its
treasurer, builder of its first brick house, and re
puted the wealthiest man in the community; whfle
Quincy, inheriting name and blood from a long
line of gentle ancestry running beyond a " Sieur
de Quincy" to the age when "the gaUoping
Normans came," was respected for his conspicu
ous intelligence, constancy, and worth. He first
came to Massachusetts in 1628. It was after he
returned here with his family, September 4, 1633,
that he formed the partnership with Coddington.
Their quaUty commanded the pick of the land.
So, as the shore was most sought after, they set
their bounds from the old Dorchester line at
Squantum southwardly to Hough's Neck, and a
mile or more inland.
Large and pleasant and fruitful were the acres
they acquired. Within their limits were the
"Massachusetts Fields," the home and plant
ing-ground of the tribe of the Massachusetts,
from which the bay and later the State were
named. The crescent shore, shaded by the pri
meval forests to the wave-washed sands, more
beautiful even than now delights the eye, did
woo to "the pleasmg content of crossing the
sweet air from isle to isle over the sUent streams
of a calm sea," as that earUest of its explorers,
Captain John Smith, declared. Inland the glori
ous landscape mounted, terrace above terrace, to
the massive summits of the Blue HUls.

SITE OF ANNE HUTCHINSON'S FARM

Jt '

MOUTH OF "MOUNT WOLLASTON RIVER"

LIBERTY CHECKED 29
The most convenient and attractive spot for
human habitation, in all this wide domain, was
carefully sought out by the two friends. Just
where " Mt. Wollaston river " ceased to be nav
igable, and the clear, fresh waters of a brook
musicaUy mingled with the brine ; where the
land lay level, easy to plough or to buUd upon,
and the gleam of a miniature lake was seen
through the trees, they ended their quest. The
treasurer of the colony, having means all his
own (the peculator is a sport of recent growth),
was the first of the two companions to buUd
a farmhouse by the " sweet murmuring noise "
and " fine meanders of the brook." We are quot
ing from Morton of Merry-Mount, whose bac-
chantic joyousness, as we must say to his praise,
was frequently subdued to a sympathy with
nature whoUy modern. Is not this a quite sur
passing description of the very scenery upon
which Coddington's eye fell ? — " And when I
had more seriously considered of the beauty of
the place, -with all her fair endo-wments, I did
not think that in aU the known world it could be
paraUeled ; for so many goodly groves of trees,
dainty, fine, round, rising hUlocks ; deUcate fair
large plains, sweet crystal fountains, and clear
running streams that twine in fine meanders
through the meads, making so sweet a murmur
ing noise to hear as would even luU the senses
with delight asleep."

30 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
This infinite loveliness, the blue heavens in
their clearness, the wine-like tonic of the air,
the wide freedom, were now Coddington's. His
was the rapture which visits the soul of every
rightly developed man who ventures into -virgin
realms of the palm or pine ; his " a melancholy
better than all mirth," as in that solemn -wUder
ness he founded a home for heart's love and for
a fresh start for humanity. Directing and shar
ing the labors of the stout craftsmen who saUed
over from Boston with him, he experienced the
real divineness of work here in the open, in the
plenitude of God's sunshine, — the elements in
league with the -wit of his brain and the strength
of his hand. Toil like this, which means adjust
ment to nature, not triumph over prostrate fellow
beings, makes men. What are we making in this
commercial age, with its sharp competitions, its
smart exploitations, its successes which dispense
with conscience and are built upon defeat and
death ? Money, delirious amounts of it, doubt
less, but not men, — not what in the sight of
heaven's ideal you would exactly caU men.
The habitation which Coddington then buUt,
about 1636, stiU stands. It is not large, but
throughout it shows good work. The carpenters
luxuriated in the abundance of timber, and sated
their honest English love of solid construction
by using a superfluity of beams a foot or more
in thickness ; and there they are to-day, square

LIBERTY CHECKED 31
hewed, and for the most part sound and hard as
iron. In plan it is similar to a second house Cod
dington buUt in Newport, Rhode Island, in 1639,
the year after he was driven from Massachusetts.
Two stories and an attic in height we perceive it to
have been, in spite of later alterations ; the upper
stories overhanging the lower one in front, and
the bulky chimney, visible on the outside, filUng
up almost the entire breadth of the west end. In
side, the kitchen or general living-room was almost
co-extensive with the entire floor ; and here is the
capacious open fireplace six feet high, flanked
by the roomy brick oven. What generous living
is suggested by these ancient utilities ! Blazing
logs heaped high with unstinted hand, homely,
wholesome fare, making the strong stronger,
pleasurably appeasing appetites made keen by
natural toU under the open sky and in the free,
unpolluted air. As Emerson says of his feUow
campers in the Adirondacks : the plain fare after
woodsman's toU " all ate like abbots."
" And Stillman, our guides' guide, . . . said aloud,
' Chronic dyspepsia never came from eating
Food indigestible : ' — then murmured some,
Others applauded him who spoke the truth."
In the second story were two chambers, the
chief one, -with fireplace as huge as that in the
room below, reserved for Coddington. He never
transferred his residence to " the Mount ; " this
would have come later. Now, when his oversight

32 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
was needed, he left his brick house in Boston
and stayed at the farm. Lawyer Lechford, who
assisted Coddington to dispose of his estate,
records in his " Note Book " that WUUam Tyng,
the purchaser, stipulates that when he -visits the
farm he " shall have the use of the chamber
which Mr. Coddington used to lye in for his
lodging." The farm was generously stocked -with cattle,
and a great barn was buUt ; but Coddington
was drawn thither by love of liberty, as weU
as by landlord cares. Here with his compan
ions — Sir Harry Vane, WUUam Hutchinson,
Rev. John Wheelwright, Edmund Quincy, and
many another — he held high debate of the ways
in which their dearly bought freedom should be
maintained and toleration in reUgion be secured.
It was the time of that bitter struggle in which
the colony was so early involved, misnamed the
" Antinomian controversy." In that conflict,
says Adams, the nascent commonwealth was con
fronted with " the issue between religious toler
ation and compelled theological conformity."
These choice spirits met from time to time in
Coddington's farmhouse. Had they triumphed,
our modern New England ancestor worshiper
might now have an ideal to adore as worthy in
all respects as in fond imagination he paints the
Puritan. Baptists might not have been banished,
Quakers and witches might not have been done

REV. JOHN WHEELWRIGHT

LIBERTY CHECKED 33
to death, and a hundred years of intellectual
torpor and bigotry might not have bUghted the
fair promise of Massachusetts history. " It was
plainly a period of intellectual quickening, — a
dawn of promise."
A woman it was, vivacious, witty, ambitious,
who awoke in the infant colony that antagonism
between the free spirit of man and dull formu
laries which latent or active is present in every
generation. Mistress Anne Hutchinson, con-
tumeliously snubbed for being "but a woman,"
was at first commended for explaining to her less
enlightened sisters the ponderous sermons of the
preachers. Earliest is she among those superfine
and audacious reforming intelligences now dis
tinguished as " the Boston woman," and she was
the first to gather in Boston a woman's club.
All went well — the whole church flocked to her
home — until, feeling that in this new land she
was a chartered freeman, she uttered without
restraint her soul's burden. She dared to speak
" thoughts not usual among us," and actuaUy
had the effrontery to criticise minister Wilson
and some other case-hardened clerics for being
" under a covenant of works." Opposition was
aroused and sides were taken.
At this juncture there arrived in the colony
the Rev. John Wheelwright, college mate of
Oliver Cromwell, intrepid of speech, compact of
the stuff martyrs are made of. Related to the

34 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
Hutchinsons by marriage, and himself a free
spirit, he at once zealously espoused the cause of
the Uberals. He was a minister after their own
mind, and they were swift to propose that he be
elevated to the Boston pulpit alongside WUson
and Cotton. Objections were raised. A pain
ful situation impended through long Sabbath
debates, which was reUeved finally by the peti
tion of the residents of "the Mount" that
Wheelwright be granted them to gather a
church there. It was a happy inspiration of the
Uberal leaders. " The Mount " was their elect
settlement. Besides Coddington and Quincy,
the Hutchinsons themselves had taken up farms
here, aud Atherton Hough — a magistrate and
man of wealth, who owned the neck which now
bears his name — was in sympathy with them,
and Stout Deacon Bass of Roxbury was prepar
ing to join them. Behind this group and rein
forcing it was a wide sprinkling of settlers, —
sturdy yeomen of England, selected from their
fellows by freedom and a sincerer faith. Some
of the earliest to arrive — like Henry Adams
— were of Rev. Mr. Hooker's company, which
landed in 1632. An air of romance and fine
spun idealism imparts itself to the movement as
one thinks of the interest taken in it by young
Sir Harry Vane, at this time governor of the
settlement. Said Wendell Phillips in one of his
speeches : " Carlyle admonished young men to lay

LIBERTY CHECKED 35
aside their Byron for Goethe. I say, lay aside
your Luther for your Harry Vane." Would this
youthful ruler, "young in years, but in sage coun
sel old," have remained in the New World, would
he have taken up broad acres of land at " the
Mount," thrown in his fortunes with the Quincys,
the Coddingtons, the Hutchinsons, the Adamses,
if the liberal movement had been successful?
It is not improbable. Vane left England with
the serious intention of uniting with the Puritans
here and working out with them his conceptions
of freedom and religion. On his departure a
friend of his father, Mr. Gerrard, wrote to Lord
Conway, " Sir Harry Vane has as good as lost
his eldest son, who is gone to New England for
conscience' sake. He likes not the discipline of
the Church of England. None of our ministers
wUl give him the sacrament standing, and no
persuasions of the bishops nor authority of his
parents will prevaU with him. Let him go ! "
Two months of Wheelwright's ministration
had hardly elapsed when a committee of eight
with Vane at their head " was chosen to consider
of Mt. Wollaston business — how there may be
a church and town there." For twelve months
from December, 1636, Wheelwright labored with
these congenial spirits. Manifestly a church
after the new way of toleration and expanding
ideas was rooting itself in the virgin soil of the
Puritan settlement. Worship in the outset, it

36 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
may be, consecrated the Coddington house, and
here at first Wheelwright may have lodged. But
early in the spring of 1637 a meeting-house
was built. Its completion, Adams surmises, may
have been celebrated on May 24, a day made
a fast for humiliation and conference over the
deplorable differences. Vane and Coddington,
grieved and indignant at the harsh measures
of the conservatives, turned their backs on this
conference and kept the fast with Wheel-wright
at "the Mount." These were eventful days.
The distractions had rapidly culminated almost
to armed conflict.
At another fast a few months earUer, Wheel
wright had preached a sermon in Boston, in
which he spoke about a " spiritual combat " and
" spiritual weapons." His antagonists affected
to believe this was a concealed call to arms.
They spread among themselves " a sUent de
cree that Wheelwright was to be discipUned."
There was a summoning of the " legalist "
hosts from all the neighboring towns. Minister
Wilson mounted a tree and harangued the vot
ers. Boston was outnumbered. The General
Court declared Wheelwright guUty of sedition ;
Vane was defeated for governor ; Coddington
and Hough were put out of the magistracy.
Is it to be wondered at that they ignored the
conference and resorted to Coddington's farm
house and Wheelwright's church ?

LIBERTY CHECKED 37
Later Mrs. Hutchinson was arraigned for the
meetings held at her house, — "a thing not toler
able nor comely in the sight of God nor fitting for
her sex," — and banished. Wheelwright, " like
Roger WilUams, or worse," was banished. Their
adherents were deprived of arms and otherwise
treated with ignominy, and Coddington fled for
freedom to Rhode Island, where he became its
first governor. Edmund Quincy, a little before
this, had passed from earth. Had he lived, he too
would have been forced into the deeper wflder
ness. As for Vane, indignation and sorrow con
tended in his heart for mastery. The cause he
loved had lost its fairest opportunity. He himself
was wounded in the house of his friends. Eng
land, still under the tyranny of Laud and Straf
ford, seemed less hostile, and thither he soon
saUed. Thus, as Mr. Adams feelingly declares,
" Massachusetts missed a great destiny, — and
missed it narrowly, though willfuUy. It, 'Uke
the base Judean, threw the pearl away, richer
than all his tribe.' "
So ended in defeat, in heart burnings and perse
cutions, those aspirations for larger liberty which
in this New World should have had serene and
continuously higher fulfillment. But to the
sons and residents of old Braintree and Quincy
it is matter for congratidation that the region
comprised in their limits was the chosen scene
for the first heroic attempt to realize the freedom

38 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
which lay implicitly in the motives of the " first
emigrants ; " that a distinction it thus early ac
quired as the meeting place of the choice spirits
who in fullest measure embodied the free in
tellectual activity, of New England Puritanism.
They were overwhelmed, cruelly despoiled, dis
persed in bitterest winter weather, — some north
to the Piscataqua in New Hampshire, some south
to the island of the Narragansetts.
Their liberal ideas, however, rooted in many
souls, remained and bore fruit. The church
which in 1639 gathered together the remnant of
Wheelwright's " Chapel of Ease," reinforced -with
later settlers, exhibited from the beginning the
characteristics of independence and open-minded-
ness. It is the church of the Adamses and of the
Quincys, and of the Hancocks (father and son).
As early as 1750 the liberalism of it is self-con
scious and aggressive. The Rev. Lemuel Briant,
brilUant, incisive, progressive, drew down upon
himself — as did his famous predecessor, minister
Wheelwright — the active opposition of the ultra-
conservatives. " Had he lived, he might have held
his ground, and succeeded in advancing by one
long stride the tardy progress of liberal Chris
tianity in Massachusetts." He neglected to teach
the children of his parish the catechism, prefer
ring plain Scripture; he was guUty, said his
opponents, of " the absurdity and blasphemy
of substituting the personal righteousness of

LIBERTY CHECKED 39
men in the room of the surety-righteousness of
Christ ; " he praised moral -virtue ; he protested
against such interpretation of the Bible as
affronted human reason. For this he was called
" Socinian " and " Arminian," and a council of
sister churches was summoned to try him. With
an independence almost unheard of, he sUghted
the council and would not go near it. But as it
declared there existed grounds for the complaints
against him, a committee of his own church was
appointed to consider the matter. Colonel John
Quincy was at the head of this committee, and it
reported a series of resolutions which may fairly
be regarded as remarkable for the times. They
were adopted by almost the entire church. In
these resolutions the people defended their pas
tor's use of " pure Scripture " instead of the
catechism, and they honored the right of private
judgment, commending " Mr. Briant for the
pains he took to promote a free and impartial
examination into all articles of our holy reUgion,
so that all may judge even of themselves what
is right." Naturally such a community with such a church
became the cradle of American Independence.
John Adams, breathing the invigorating air of
the place, is talking about independence at the
age of twenty, and is the flame of fire ordained
at birth to kindle the heart of a continent. And,
indeed, we might go still farther back and find in

40 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
the utterance of a Quincy an earlier anticipation
of this great principle. Miss Eliza Susan Quincy
quotes from a letter of John Wendell, dated
Portsmouth, N.H., October 4, 1785, to this effect :
Edmund Quincy, who died in 1737, on being
asked " how soon he thought America would be
dismembered from the mother country, repUed
that if the colony improved in the arts and sci
ences for half a century to come as it had for
the time past, he made no doubt in that time it
would be accompUshed." Held as a speculation,
a vision, in times of England's indifference to her
colonies, it was changed to a passion in the hour
when she oppressed them. John Adams, a month
before the battle of Lexington, might truthfuUy
say, " That there are any who pant after inde
pendence is the greatest slander on the colony."
None " panted " after it, — the issues were too
serious, the stake too perilous ; but these great
leaders were familiar -with the thought, and when
endurance ceased to be a virtue they flung it
out as the battle-cry of their most cherished
hopes. Deep rooted in a noble past was the idea of
independence, — a view set forth by Christopher
Pearse Cranch, a descendant of Richard Cranch,
brother-in-law of John Adams, in a poem which
he wrote for the two hundred and fiftieth anni
versary of the old First Church : —

LIBERTY CHECKED 41
" Our fathers sowed with stern humility.
But knew not what the harvest was to be.
More light, they said, would issue from God's book,
Not knowing 't was the deeper, wiser look
The soul took of itself that gave them eyes to see.
From the rough gnarled root they planted here,
Through storm and sun, through patient hope and fear,
There grew a fair and ever-spreading tree,
With roots fast grappling in the granite rocks,
Unharmed by cold or drought or tempest shocks;
Fed by the sun and winds and seasons' change,
It reared its trunk serenely tall and fair,
Its boughs diverging in the upper air
Of thought and liberty,
Loaded with leaves and blossoms rich and strange,
And promise of a fruitage yet to be
In the long centuries of futurity."

IV
JUDITH AND JOANNA
At the opening of the quiescent period which
followed the storm of persecution, Judith, the
young widow of Edmund Quincy, is " in the
-wilderness " (so runs tradition's phrase, pathetic
in her case), holding the lands allotted to her
husband, and occupying the house buUt by Cod
dington. Not immediately upon the departure
of that exile, however, did she make her home at
" the Mount." The sorrow of her widowhood
was fresh upon her ; the children, Judith and
Edmund, were quite young ; and when the es
tate jointly owned by herself and Coddington was
divided she lacked, it seems Ukely, the means to
pay for the improvements. Captain John Tyng,
Boston's wealthiest merchant, was the purchaser
of the farmhouse and barn and five hundred
acres of land. Eventually the portion which
includes Merry-Mount passed by inheritance to
that daughter of Tyng who married Thomas
Sheppard, and by her was bequeathed to her
grandson, John Quincy. It is now owned and
occupied by Mrs. John Quincy Adams. When
it was that the home farm on the banks of the

JUDITH AND JOANNA 43
brook was acquired by Judith Quincy is uncer
tain ; but it is not long before we note that her
name is used when the south line near the bury
ing ground is bounded, and that the brook is
changed in name from " Coddington's brook "
to " Quincy's brook." The date cannot be much
later than 1640, — the year when " the Mount "
was incorporated as the town of Braintree, and
when Henry Adams is confirmed in the occupancy
of forty acres of land for "ten heads" on Cap
tain's Plain. Momentous are these beginnings.
Farther back in time we may trace the Unes of
the Adamses and the Quincys, but here in the
new town they made so famous there is a fresh
start, and through the years that foUow, the inter
mingling generations of them, responding to the
highest demands of patriotism and intellectual
and moral progress, exalt all that is best in social
life and civil government by an endless "filiation
of master spirits."
Judith Quincy, authentic mother of a crescent
race, and in the dubious day of small things its
sole counselor, ranks with the best of her kind
as an earthly providence. For six years she strove
with the unfaUing strength of woman's courage
and patience to keep a home for her children, and
now (about 1642), when the elderly Moses Paine
proposed marriage, she accepted him. He is of
Braintree, the possessor of many broad acres;
but it was only for a little while that his roof

44 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
sheltered them, and it was the least amount of his
property that she ever enjoyed. He died in 1643,
lea-ving half his estate to his son Moses, a quarter
to his daughter Elizabeth (who married the second
Henry Adams), a quarter to his son Stephen, and
the remainder to his wife Judith, — to be exact,
he cut her off with twenty shUlings. Thrifty
were some of those old settlers, and they grudged
parting with a penny to any but blood rela
tions. Was it now that Judith and her two chUdren
made their home in the Coddington house ? This
seems Ukely, and a brighter day dawns for them aU.
John Hull, the future mint-master of the colony,
looking up lands in Braintree, discovers daugh
ter Judith, that flower in the wUderness, and
bears her to his Boston home. Hardly twenty
years old was she when in 1647 he married her.
Governor Winthrop performed the ceremony in
Boston, — a choice company, no doubt, -witnessing
it, and rejoicing in it. But however celebrated,
it was a quiet affair compared -with the memorable
wedding of their daughter Hannah. Who has
not heard of it, and been dazzled by the stream
of new pine-tree shiUings which the prosperous
mint-master poured into the big scales untU they
weighed down his plump daughter ? Such was
the dower she brought to Judge Samuel Sew
all, her husband. This cherished story of our
childhood is doubted by some, who marvel that

JUDITH AND JOANNA 45
silver enough for the transaction should have
been stored away by honest John Hull ; but the
dUigent calculator finds that the bride's dower
was reaUy £500, which in sUver would weigh
exactly one hundred and twenty-five pounds.
Thus the story and the figure of Hannah are
both saved. An original touch seems commonly
to have gone -with the benefactions of the genial
mint-master. For his wife he named the most
bleak, windy, and surf-buffeted headland between
Cape Cod and Sandy Hook. Stormy Point Ju
dith ! Does the title record a compUment that
faUed? Or was it a distant, a safely distant,
aUusion away off there in the Narragansett
country, where he had acquired land from the
savages, to the occasional ebuUition of feminin
ity warranted once in a whUe by the offensive
serenity of the best of husbands? The com
pliment theory wiU have weight with all who
have not lost faith in masculine consistency, for
besides being an honest man and captain of the
Ancient and Honorable ArtiUery Company, he
was a " saint " no less, and his wife was well
content to walk daUy in the Ught of his halo.
" This outshines them all," declared Eev. Mr.
WiUard, enumerating his virtues in a funeral
sermon, '' that he was a saint upon earth ; that
he Uved Uke a saint here, and died the precious
death of a saint." However, Judith was worthy
of him, and she, too, in a quaint obituary, rudely

46 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
printed, with a black border and epitaph (a copy
was preserved by Miss E. S. Quincy), received the
praise of the " elect lady," — " Mrs. Judith HuU
of Boston, in New England, Daughter of Mr.
Edmund Quincey ; late wife of John Hull Esq.,
deceased. A Diligent, Constant, Fruitful Reader
-and Hearer of the Word of God, Rested from her
Labors, June 22, 1695, being the seventh day of
the Week, a Uttle before Sun-set, just about the
time She used to begin the Sabbath. Anno
uEtatis Sum 69."
Into such a delightful circle Judith the elder,
the twice widowed, was welcomed. The father of
the mint-master, Robert Hull, hale and hearty at
fifty-five, is captivated by his son's mother-in-law,
who is fair and forty-six, and their marriage is
duly celebrated. Happily did they Uve together
in his Boston home till her death, the 29th of
March, 1654. Indeed, he took Judith's entire
famUy into his capacious affections, and in his
wiU he not only provided for his own children,
but left lands in Braintree to " Son Edmund
Quincy." Judith, with a mother's considerateness, had
deferred her own happiness tUl that of her other
chUd, Edmund, was secured. His troth was
plighted to Joanna Hoar, and they were married
the 26th day of July, 1648. He was only twenty-
one years of age when this event took place ;
but the impatient Robert HuU must not be kept

JUDITH AND JOANNA 47
waiting too long, and Judith was determined that
she would see the youthful couple weU established
in the old home before she left it. And now
"with entire freedom of mind she might take this
step, for Edmund and Joanna were an ideal pair.
Tall and comely was he, as the men of his race
have been in every generation since ; mature also
for his years, made so by ceaseless strife with the
wUderness. " A man quickly grows old in battle,"
declared the youthful Napoleon. Not less admir
able, as one delights to believe, was his bride.
Indeed, if Joanna was her mother's daughter in
the essentials of mind and character, her price
was above rubies.
The mother of Joanna, herself a Joanna, was
a true Roman matron, schooled in tribulations,
unfaiUng in fortitude, the heroic founder of an
enduring race. " Great mother " her contempo
raries called her, deUberately carving the words
on the table monument which marks her last
resting place in the old Quincy burying ground.
" Take care of Joanna Hoar ! " was the last in
junction of the late Judge E. R. Hoar to his friend
C. F. Adams, the younger. He deeply desired to
do her honor. He was proud to look up to her as
the great ancestress of his own race, and of many
another family distinguished in American history.
Mr. Adams, who takes pleasure in numbering
himself with " the tribe of Joanna," writes that
" she is the common origin of that remarkable

48 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
progeny in which statesmen, jurists, lawyers,
orators, poets, story-tellers, and phflosophers seem
to vie with each other in recognized eminence."
For freedom in reUgion she fled to these shores.
Her husband, Charles Hoar, had been sheriff of
Gloucester, in England, — a man of substance,
and much regarded. Both were Puritans. It
was after her husband's death, which occurred in
1638, that the intrepid -widow, with five chUdren,
forsook her pleasant Gloucester home with all its
comforts, and braved the perils of the sea and
the hardships of the -wUderness, to worship God
according to her conscience. She arrived here
in 1640, and settled immediately in Braintree.
Her daughter Margery within a year married the
able young minister of the Braintree church,
Henry Flynt ; John, the eldest son, ancestor of
Judge E. R. Hoar and his brother, Hon. George
F. Hoar, removed first to Scituate and then to
Concord ; and Joanna, as has been related, mar
ried Edmund Quincy.
With another son, Leonard, there are connected
the dramatis perso7ice of a notable tragedy. He
himself is distinguished as the third president of
Harvard College, and the first of its graduates
to be thus honored. He was " designated in his
father's will to be the scholar of the famUy and
a teacher in the Church, although by his coming
to New England he missed the proposed matricu
lation at Oxford, yet satisfied fully the spirit of

JUDITH AND JOANNA 49
the paternal -wish." After graduating from Har
vard in the class of 1650 he returned to England,
where he continued his studies at the EngUsh
Cambridge, receiving a degree. Soon after he
was presented by Sir Henry Mildmay — one of
the regicides, then lord of the manor — with the
benefice of Wanstead, in Essex. For wife he
married Bridget, the daughter of John Lord
Lisle and Lady AUcia Lisle. With her he came
again to New England July 8, 1672, having been
Called thither with a view to settlement over the
South Church, Boston. But he brought with
him a letter signed by thirteen dissenting minis
ters of London and vicinity commending him as
a suitable person for the presidency of Harvard,
then vacant, and, despite one or more formidable
rivals, he was instaUed in that office December
10, 1672.
Lord Lisle, his -wife's father, was president of
the High Court of Justice appointed for the trial
of King Charles I., and became Lord Commis
sioner of the Great Seal. " He for some reason
did not sign the death warrant of Charles I., but
was chosen by CromweU one of the Committee of
Seven, who prepared ' a draft of a sentence, with
a blank for the manner of his death.' " It was
enough. At the Restoration his was the first
name in the list of those excepted from the act
of indemnity. Fleeing from England with a
price set upon his head, he was tracked by assas-

50 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
sins, who murdered him at Lausanne, in Switzer
land, August 11, 1664.
The fate of Lady Alicia was even more tragic.
Twenty years later she was haled before the
" bloody assize " of the infamous Chief Justice
Jeffreys, charged -with aiding and concealing in
her dwelling on the day after the battle of Sedge
moor Richard Nelthorpe, a lawyer, and John
Hicks, a clergyman, accused of being refugees
from Monmouth's army. "She declared her
self innocent of guilty knowledge, and protested
against the Ulegality of her trial, because the
supposed rebels to whom she had given hospi
tality had not been convicted. She was then ad
vanced in years, and so feeble that it was said she
was unable to keep awake during her tedious trial.
Jeffreys arrogantly refused her the aid of counsel,
admitted irrelevant testimony, exceUed himself in
violent abuse, and so intimidated the jurors, who
were disposed to dismiss the charge, that they
unwiUingly at last brought in a verdict of guilty.
She was hurriedly condemned 'to be burned
aUve ' the very afternoon of the day of her trial,
August 28, 1685 ; but owing to the indignant
protests of the clergy of Winchester, execution
was postponed for five days, and the sentence
was ' altered from burning to beheading.' This
punishment was exacted m the market place of
Winchester on the appointed day, the implacable
King James II. refusing a pardon, although it

JUDITH AND JOANNA 51
was proved that Lady Lisle had protected many
cavaliers in distress and that her son John was
ser-ving in the royal army; and many persons
of high rank interceded for her, among whom
was Lord Clarendon, brother-in-law to the king.
Lady Lisle was connected by marriage with the
Bond, Whitmore, ChurchUl, and other famUies
of distinction, and her granddaughter married
Lord James Russell, fifth son of the first Duke
of Bedford, thus connecting this tragedy with that
of Lord WUliam Russell, ' the martyr of EngUsh
Liberty.' "
The Hon. George F. Hoar in 1892 paid a
-visit to Moyles's Court, the ancient home of the
Lisles, and made notes, which with the above
detaUs were wrought into an account of " The
Hoar FamUy in America and its English Ances
try," by Henry Stedman Nourse. Interest in the
Lady AUcia is so much deepened by these notes
that the temptation to quote a few of them is
not -wisely to be resisted : —
" Saturday, October 22d, Mr. Hoar, with two
ladies, went from Southampton to Ringwood,
about twenty miles, and drove thence to ElUng-
ham church, about two miles and a half. The
church is a small but very beautiful structure of
stone, -with a smaU wooden belfry. The tomb
of Lady Alice Lisle is a heavy flat slab of gray
stone, raised about two or three feet from the
ground, bearing the foUo-wing inscription : —

52 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
" ' Here Lies Dame Alicia Lisle
and her daughter Ann Harfeld
-B^ho dyed the 17th of Feb. 1703^
Alicia Lisle Dyed the
second of Sept. 1685.'
" Lady Lisle was carried on horseback by a
trooper to Winchester. The horse lost a shoe,
and feU lame; she insisted that the trooper
should stop at a smith's and have the shoe re
placed, and on his refusing declared that she
would make an outcry and resistance unless he
did, saying she could not bear to have the horse
suffer. The blacksmith at first refused. He
said he would do nothing to help the carrying
off Lady Lisle, but she entreated him to do it
for her sake. She said she should come back
that way in a few days ; the trooper said, ' Yes,
you -wiU come back in a few days, but -without
your head.'
"The body was retumed to Moyles's Court
the day of the execution ; the head was brought
back a few days after in a basket, and put in at
the pantry window ; the messenger said that the
head was sent afterward for greater indignity."
So, while here in a smaU frontier settlement,
the daughter and her people are Uving peaceful,
uneventful days, there in old England the father
is a fugitive, the mother a prisoner, and both
ultimately suffering the extreme vengeance of a
Stuart. Among the eight great historical paint-

JUDITH AND JOANNA 53
ings by E. M. Ward, R. A., which adorn the
corridor leading to the House of Commons, the
third in the series represents Lady Lisle's arrest
for relieving the two fugitives from Monmouth's
defeated army. Strange, is it not, that dwellers
in a peaceful hamlet in this western world
should be so intimately related to the chief
actors in some of those Old World tragedies !
TranquUlest Uves they seem to be li-ving ; no
word comes down to us revealing the turmoU of
their hearts, and yet the tardy letters from be
yond the Umitless seas burdened their souls -with
woe upon woe. To him who can look beneath
the surface, all this and more is visible. The
New World, too, furnished its measure of dark
ness to that shadow of sorrow which falls from
every son of man who walks in the light of life.
Leonard Hoar, the Harvard president, aroused
bitter opposition by espousing, as it is supposed,
the " Half-way Covenant." This, which suffered
persons baptized in infancy to become church
members without formal confession, was the far
thest step for the Uberals of those days, and
may indicate his affinity -with the tolerant spirit
of Henry Flynt of Braintree and his fellow
thinkers. The " sour leven " of advanced ideas
was stUl fermenting there. At all events the
students f eU away from the president, and " set
themselves to Travestie whatever he did and
said, and aggravate everything in his Beha-vior

54 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
disagreeable to them, with a design to make him
Odious." They were countenanced by certain per
sons who " made a figure in the neighborhood,"
with the result that he was forced to resign.
This so wrought upon Dr. Hoar that, as Cotton
Mather writes, "his Grief threw him into a
Consumption whereof he died November 28,
1675, in Boston." " A solemn stroke ! " records
Increase Mather. His remains were interred in
the burying ground of Braintree, now Quincy,
where those of his -wife and mother were ulti
mately laid.
Bridget, his widow, now about thirty-six years
old, remained single a year, to a day, when she
married Hezekiah Usher, a Boston merchant.
He turned out to be a crotchety, -wiUful sort
of man, with whom she could not Uve on any
endurable terms. So her resolved heart deter
mined on a voyage to England, whither, it may
be, she felt summoned to perform some sacred
last things in memory of that father so recently
slain and to comfort her mother. Pro-vidential
was this step ; for when her mother, so cruelly
treated, needed her most, there she was at hand
to lavish upon her the tender ministries of love.
Later, when WUUam and Mary came to the
throne, she and her sister succeeded in ha-ving
the attainder against her mother reversed.
Usher had enough good sense to reaUze his
loss, and, as SewaU wrote, " goes down the har-

JUDITH AND JOANNA 55
bor with his wife and her daughter and weeps
at taking leave." Not till her husband's death,
in 1697, did she return to Boston. Then,
through the efforts of Judge Sewall and " cousin
Anna [Joanna] Quinsey we introduce Madam
Usher to Mr. H. Usher's House and Ground on
the Common." Here she dwelt till " she de
parted this life the 25th of the last month (May,
1723) being Saturday at about two o'clock in
the afternoon after about a fortnight's Indispo
sition, and according to her express desire was
Intere'd at Brantry May 30th in the Grave of
Dr. Leonard Hoar, her first Husband, and her
younger daughter Tryphena, and the Docf^^-
Mother and Sisters. The Corps was attended
about half a mile in the street leading thither
ward by the Bearers, being the Honble Wm.
Dummer, Esqr., Lt. Gov. and Com'd'r in Cheif,
Sam'l Sewall, Penn Townsend, Edward Brom-
field, Simeon Stoddard, and Edmund Quincey,
Esq'rs, and many others, principal Gentlemen
and Gentlewomen of the Town, Mr. Leonard
Cotton being the principal Mourner. It pleased
God to afford us a very comfortable day for the
Solemnity, wherein the Executors Colo. Quincey
Mr. Flynt, and others Gen't with several Gentle
women of her cheif acquaintance proceeded to
Braintry on Horse back and in Coaches. The
distance is very little above ten mUes." No
other lady of the land could have had more

56 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
respect shown her, and Judge Sewall, who wrote
this account for Mrs. Bridget Cotton, her daugh
ter, in London, says farther, they " gave my wife
and I gloves." " Eat at Judge Quincys and
then we return home."
And Joanna, the great mother of these and
other striving souls, what of her all these years ?
Fortunately she had been spared the pain of
witnessing the distresses of her chUdren, and of
being saddened by the violent deaths of her
connections over sea. She passed away half a
centuiy before her daughter-in-law, on December
21, 1661. Uneventful, calm, and full of good
works we may believe her life to have been in
this new land. For Leonard, before he returned
to England after graduating from Harvard, and
for John, before he removed to Scituate on his
way to Concord, she made a home in Braintree.
After that we know not whether she had a home
of her own. Welcome she would be in the
home of parson Flynt, who married her daughter
Margery, or in the Quincy farmhouse, where
daughter Joanna was the gracious mistress. At
the parsonage dame Margery's school for "in
structing young Gentlewoemen," to say nothing
of her rapidly increasing famUy, left scant room
for long visits, but at the Quincy home there
would be sufficient accommodations, and, in ad
dition, the congenial companionship of Madam
Judith Quincy Paine. Judith and Joanna to-

RESIDENCE OF GOV. CODDINGTON, NE-WPORT, R. I., 1641.

FIRST CHURCH FROM OLD BURYING-GROUND
Hoar tombstones at left

JUDITH AND JOANNA 57
gether, abiding under the same roof : is it not a
conjunction happy enough to have been ordained
in the scheme of things ! Sisters they in like
sorrows, and with equal fortitude bearing the
buffets of the same rude world ; mothers they,
made one through mingUng Unes of chUdren' s
children stretching in crowned Uves to the latest
age. Judith, when she removed to Boston as
Mistress Hull, may have left Joanna sage coun
selor of the young couple in the old home.
Frequently would she return thither tUl her
death, in 1654. The remains of Judith were
interred in Boston, those of Joanna in Braintree,
but the thought of their characters is one in the
reverential regard of a thousand descendants.
To this elder Joanna, and some of her more
notable connections, a monument was erected
a few years ago in the old burying ground in
Quincy, by Senator George F. Hoar. From the
same spot another memorial was dated more
recently, in which the shade of Joanna is repre
sented as addressing this generation. Its nature
is best described in words taken from an address
upon the character of Judge E. R. Hoar de
Uvered by Charles F. Adams, the younger, before
the members of the Massachusetts Historical So
ciety, February 14, 1895. " Shortly after my re
turn from a trip to Europe, nearly six months
ago. Judge Hoar drove over to my house in Lin
coln one bright September Sunday, and after

58 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
some pleasant talk drew from his pocket a paper
which he proceeded to read to me. Dated from
Quincy, where Joanna Hoar lies buried in the
ancient graveyard by the side of her son Leonard,
it was a supposed communication from her, writ
ten in the quaint olden style, and addressed to
Mrs. Agassiz, the president of Radcliffe, convey
ing a gift of $5000 to endow a scholarship to
assist in the education of girls at the college,
' preference always to be given to natives, or
daughters of citizens of Concord,' and to bear
as an endowment the name of ' the Widow
Joanna Hoak.'
" Altogether it was a deUghtful bit of fan
ciful correspondence, kindly as weU as reveren
tially conceived, and most charmingly carried
out ; and our old friend enjoyed it keenly. It
appealed to his sense of humor. He chose to
give with an unseen hand, and to buUd his me
morial to his first New England ancestor in his
own peculiar way."
QuiNCT, September 12, 1894.
To Mistress Louis Agassiz,
President of Radcliffe College,
Cambridge, Massachusetts.
Honored and Gkacious Lady, — This epistle is ad
dressed to you from Quincy, because in the part of Brain
tree which now bears that name, in the burial place by the
meeting house, aU that was mortal of me was laid to rest
more than two centuries ago, and the gravestone stands
which bears my name, and marks the spot where my dust
reposes.

JUDITH AND JOANNA 59
It may cause you surprise to be thus addressed, and that
the work which you are pursuing with such constancy and
success is of interest to one who so long ago passed from
the mortal sight of men. But you may recall that wise
philosophers have beUeved and taught that those -who have
striven to do their Lord's will here below do not, when
transferred to his house on high, thereby become wholly
regardless of what may befall those who come after them,
— "nee, haec coelestia spectantes, ista terrestria contem-
nunt." It is a comforting faith that those who have " gone
forth weeping, bearing precious seed," shall be permitted
to see and share the joys of the harvest with their succes
sors who gather it.
I was a contemporary of the pious and bountiful Lady
EadclifEe, for whom your college is named. My honored
husband, Charles Hoar, Sheriff of Gloucester in England,
by his death in 1638, left me a -widow -with six children.
We were of the people called by their revilers Puritans, to
whom civil liberty, sound learning, and religion were very
dear. The times were troublous in England, and the hands
of princes and prelates were heavy upon God's people. My
thoughts were turned to the new England where precious
Mr. John Harvard had just lighted that little candle which
has since thrown its beams so far, where there seemed a
providential refuge for those who desired a church without
a bishop, and a state without a king.
I did not, therefore, like the worshipful Lady EadclifEe,
send a contribution in money ; but I came hither myself,
bringing the five youngest of my children -with me, and
arrived at Braintree in the year 1640.
From that day Harvard College has been much in my
mind ; and I humbly trust that my coming has not been
-ndthout some furtherance to its well being. My lamented
husband in his wiU directed that our youngest son, Leonard,
should be " carefullie kept at Schoole, and when hee is fitt
for itt to be carefullie placed at Oxford, and if ye Lord
shall see fitt, to make him a Minister unto his people." As

60 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
the nearest practicable conformity to this direction, I placed
him carefully at Harvard CoUege, to such purpose that he
graduated therefrom in 1650, became a faithful minister to
God's people, a capable physician to heal their bodUy dis
eases, and became the third President of the CoUege, and
the first who was a graduate from it, in 1672.
My daughters became the -(vives of the Rev. Henry Flint,
the minister of Braintree, and Col. Edmund Quincy of the
same town : and it is recorded that from their descendants
another President has since been raised up to the CoUege,
Josiah Quincy {tam, carum, caput), and a Professor of Rhe
toric and Oratory, John Quincy Adams, who as weU as his
sons and grandsons have given much aid to the CoUege, as
member? of one or the other of its governing boards, beside
attaining other distinctions less to my present purpose.
The elder of my three sons who came with me to Amer
ica, John Hoar, settled in the extreme western frontier
town of English settlement in New England, caUed Con
cord : to which that exemplary Christian man, the Rever
end Peter Bulkeley, had brought his flock in 1635. In
Mr. Bulkeley's ponderous theological treatise, caUed " The
Gospel Covenant," of which two editions were pubHshed in
London (but whether it be so generaUy and constantly pe
rused and studied at the present day, as it was in my time,
I know not), — in the preface thereto, he says it was writ
ten "at the end of the earth." There my son and his
posterity have dwelt and multipUed, and the love and ser
vice of the CoUege which I should approve have not been
whoUy wanting among them. In so remote a place there
must be urgent need of instruction, though the report seems
to be weU founded that settlements farther westward have
since been made, and that some even of my own posterity
have penetrated the continent to the shores of the Pacific
Sea. Among the descendants of John Hoar have been that
worthy Professor John Farrar, whose beautiful face in mar
ble is among the precious possessions of the CoUege ; that
dear and faithful woman who gave the whole of her humble

JUDITH AND JOANNA 61
fortune to establish a scholarship therein, Levina Hoar ;
and others who as FeUows or Overseers have done what
they could for its prosperity and growth.
Pardon my prolixity, but the story I have told is but a
prelude to my request of your kindness. There is no
authentic mode in which departed souls can impart their
wishes to those who succeed them in this world but these,
the record or memory of their thoughts and deeds, while
on earth ; or the reappearance of their quaUties of mind
and character in their Uneal descendants.
In this first year of Radcliffe CoUege, — when so far as
seems practicable and wise, the advantages which our dear
Harvard CoUege, " the defiance of the Puritan to the sav
age and the wilderness," has so long bestowed upon her
sons, are through your means to be shared by the sisters
and daughters of our people, — if it should so bef aU that
funds for a scholarship to assist in the education of girls at
RadcUffe CoUege, who need assistance, with preference al
ways to be given to natives, or daughters of citizens of Con
cord, Massachusetts, should be placed in the hands of your
Treasurer, you might weU suppose that memory of me had
induced some of my descendants to spare so much from
their necessities for such a modest memorial : and I would
humbly ask that the scholarship may bear the name of
The Widow Joanna Hoab.
And may God estabUsh the good work you have in charge !

V

THE GREAT ADVOCATE OF INDEPENDENCE,
JOHN ADAMS
It was in the year 1640 — just about the time
Mistress Judith Quincy removed from Boston
" into the wilderness " of Braintree — that Henry
Adams was confirmed in the occupation of the
forty acres " for ten heads " in the same settle
ment, by grant of the town of Boston. The
Adams family have never lacked heads, whether
one regards quantity or quaUty; and now, in
robustness of body and brain and abundant pro
geny, was founded this other Une of true New
England men and women, to which centuries are
as years, and which in every age of America's
history has signally advanced its high destiny.
This first Henry was in the newly incorporated
township a man of mark, — its first brewer (an
important of&ce among EngUshmen brought up
on the nut-brown ale), and also first clerk and
clerk of the writs. All this would go to show
that in 1640 he was no recent settler, but a
rooted and firmly established inhabitant. The
when and whence of his arrival, however, are
both in dispute. President John Adams, who

THE GREAT ADVOCATE OF INDEPENDENCE 63
should know, had the following incised on a
tomb he erected in 1817 to his ancestors : " In
memory of Henry Adams, who took his flight
from the Dragon persecution in Devonshire, in
England, and aUghted with eight sons near Mount
Wollaston." As nowhere else is there record of
" the Dragon persecution," it is surmised that
" the Dragon of persecution " is the original
tradition. Another descendant in these later
days, the Rev. H. F. Fairbanks, favors the flight
from Devonshire, because the name of Henry
Adams has been for two centuries or so on an
" ancient parchment roll " which connects him
with a distinguished house of that region. No
less is it attempted to show than " that Henry
Adams was a descendant of Lord ap Adam and
his wife Elizabeth de Gournai, who Uved in the
latter part of the thirteenth and early part of
the fourteenth century, and that through Eliza
beth de Gournai he was descended from MatUda
and WilUam the Conqueror, and through Matilda
from the Counts of Flanders on the one side, be
ing derived from the Capetian kings of France,
and on the other side from Charlemagne, the
great emperor of the West."
Little did John Adams know of this, and as
Uttle would he have cared for it. Writing to
Miss Hannah Adams, the historian, who referred
to the " humble obscurity " of their common
origin, he vigorously declared that, could " I ever

64 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
suppose that f amUy pride were any way excusable,
I should think a descent from a line of virtu
ous, independent New England farmers for a
hundred years was a better foundation for it
than a descent through royal or noble scoundrels
ever since the flood." An eternal verity ! — then
cherished chiefly in Puritan circles, and heard in
the prescient utterance of a Cromwell, a Milton,
a President of pure democracy, but now an Ulus
trious trmsm the world over. Numerous in the
colonies were these " nobles by the right of an
earlier creation." A better population in phys
ical soundness, purity of Ufe, inteUigence, and
high human aims had never before been brought
together. Lafayette, on his farewell -visit to these
shores, remarked, in pleased surprise, that the
immense crowds which greeted him in the streets
of towns and cities seemed Uke a picked popula
tion out of the whole human race. " Seems ! "
Monsieur le Marquis ? " Nay, we know not
seems ! " They were in truth a selected peo
ple. In their uneventful days they Uved simplest
Uves, in kindly, honest brotherhood, independent,
industrious, sincerely trying to do the Lord's wUl
as they understood it ; and when the great hour
arrived which summoned them to show what of
valor and truth was in them, the test was met
with prompt and natural evolution of latencies
into the white flash and flame of patriotic daring
and transcendent wisdom. From the farm and

THE GREAT ADVOCATE OF INDEPENDENCE 65
the shop, with scarce a transformation, came
heroes, captains, statesmen of renown, and women
instinct with miraculous wit and devotion, who
took their preordained places, outranking the
best the courts and cabinets of the nations might
produce. Such were the people from whom John Adams
sprang. In every fibre of his strong, rugged, and
original character, he was a typical man of the
free common people of the best New England
towns, — a genuine son of the Puritan, fearing
God, and kno-wing no other fear ; a right seed of
the " sifted grain " planted here in the New World
to make a new and more puissant nation. The
elements which came so conspicuously to the sur
face in him were latent in his forefathers, and
have been strenuously manifested in many an
Adams since. They are Puritans all, clear and
direct in character, with not a trace of devious-
ness, relying upon principle, and not at all upon
human dexterity, and never feeling at home un
less their feet are upon the soUd and eternal
verities. So fixed, they rather enjoy defying the
world of the shifty and the unstable.
" Come one, come all; this rock shall fly
From its firm base as soon as I."
Another theory with regard to the arrival of
Henry Adams in this country is that he was of
the devoted company of that renowned minister,
the Rev. Thomas Hooker, which, fleeing from

68 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
Braintree in Essex County, England, arrived here
in the summer of 1632, and began " to sit down "
at " the Mount." While actively preparing for
the coming of their pastor and others of the
brethren, they were ordered by the General Court
to remove to Newtown, now Cambridge. AU did
not remove. Enough, indeed, remained to influ
ence the settlers at a later date to change the
name of " the Mount," when it was incorporated
as a town, to that of their dear old home in Eng
land, Braintree. If Henry Adams was num
bered with this remnant, his word and that of
the four of his eight sons who were of age at
that time would have been potent in the naming.
It was a vigorous and ambitious famUy. Four,
at least, won military titles, and one came to be a
deacon. When in 1646 the father died, most of
the sons sought on the frontier larger fields to
plough and plant, and went to Concord and Med-
field and other distant towns. Of interest is it
to note that Lieutenant Henry Adams, the eldest
son, married before his removal EUzabeth Paine,
daughter of that Moses Paine who in 1643 mar^
ried Judith Quincy. Thus early in the history
of these two famUies did they come into relation
ship. Joseph, the seventh son of the original Henry,
remained on the farm. He was born in England
in 1626. It is through him and his son Joseph
that the family tree of the Adamses came to its

THE GREAT ADVOCATE OP INDEPENDENCE 67
finest efflorescence. No inconsiderable man was
the elder Joseph, — farmer, brewer for the town,
selectman, and father of twelve children. The
mother of the children was Abigail Baxter, of
good stock too; and when her son Joseph mar
ried he honored brilliantly the Adams instinct
for wiving superior women, thus early devel
oped, and took to his heart and home Hannah
Bass, daughter of sturdy John Bass of Brain
tree and Ruth Alden of the poetic PriscUla
Uneage. Thus through solid, intelligent. God
fearing men and women the race ascended to
John, the deacon, born in 1691, son of the sec
ond Joseph. " He was beloved, esteemed, and
revered by all who knew him." No formal and
feckless deacon he, but a manly and miUtant
one, made lieutenant in the miUtia, and serving
the town as selectman for many years, " almost
aU the business of the town being managed by
him." Seven chUdren were born to him. The
eldest of them, whom he named John, needed only
to be sent to college to start him in a career
which ended in the Presidency. " If my grand
father himself," wrote John Quincy Adams,
" had received the same education, he would have
been distinguished either as a clergyman or as a
lawyer." The house in which John Adams was born is
as typical of its kind as were its inhabitants of
their kind. It is the plain, square, honest block

68 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
of a house, widened by a lean-to, and scarcely
two stories high, commonly buUt by the farmers
of the period. Such are still to be seen throughout
New England, gleaming white under the cathedral
elms. Homely, are they ? Yes ; but like their com
panions, the huge granite boulder and the outcrop
ping cUff, they fit harmoniously into the rugged
landscape. The Adams homestead, built in 1681,
was adopted at once by inclusive Nature and
woven into the even texture of her scenery. In
front of it ran the old Plymouth highway, and
behind and on both sides stretched away the wide
fields of the farm, picturesquely sprinkled with
orchard trees and occasional pines and ehns. The
majestic sweep of the forest-covered slopes of
Penn's HiU, near at hand, and the more distant
terraces of the Blue Hills bounded the vision.
Now, among the modern cottages of a thriving
town, it seems humble enough and out of place,
with only the neighboring house — in which John
Quincy Adams was born, and the homestead of.
the solid old Field family — to keep it in coun
tenance. But in human interest what other habitation
in aU this broad land may surpass it ? Here is
the real Ceadlb of American Independence,
— here, and in the house adjoining, where John
and Abigail Adams began their married Ufe, and
in which their illustrious son came into being.
In the simpUcity of these surroundings great

John Q. Adams

John Adams
BIRTHPLACES OF THE PRESIDENTS
From a sketch in 1822

Home of Joseph Marah

THE GREAT ADVOCATE OF INDEPENDENCE 69
souls, to use the words of Milton, were " inflamed
with the study of learning and the admiration of
virtue, stirred with the high hopes of living to be
brave men and worthy patriots, dear to God, and
famous to all ages." It is one of the shrines of
this great republic. The home in which Wash
ington was born was destroyed by fire when he
was three years of age. The frail cabin in which
Lincohi first saw the light soon crumbled to dust.
But here stands the veritable roof-tree under
which was ushered into being the earUest and
strongest advocate of independence, — the leader
whose clear inteUigence was paramount in shaping
our free institutions, the founder of a Une of
statesmen, legislators, diplomats, historians, whose
patriotism is a passion, and whose integrity is
like the granite of their native hiUs. Piously is
the ancient building cared for by the Adams
Chapter of the Daughters of the Revolution, and
its original appointments preserved for the sight
of reverent pilgrims.
It was on the 19th of October, 1735, that the
home of the Adamses was blessed with the son
who brought it fame. Another home but a mile
away, the home of Parson Hancock, was similarly
blessed on the 12th of January, 1737, by the
birth of another John. To the Rev. Mr. Han
cock, with no eyes to look into the future, the
two Johns are but two boys making happy two
households, and brief is his record of baptism, —

70 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
" John, son of John Adams, October 26th, 1735;"
" John Hancock, my son, January 16th, 1737."
But the son of the deacon and the son of the
minister were to be joined in what momentous
transformations ! As boys they played together,
perhaps went to the same school, and of a Sunday
sat, the one in the minister's pew and the other
in the deacon's, at either side of the pulpit, and
furtively pitied each other as the sermon length
ened. When the Rev. Mr. Hancock died, in
1744, his son was adopted by the rich Thomas
Hancock of Boston, brother of the minister. But
later John Adams the lawyer aided with his
legal talent John Hancock the merchant, and
together they -wrought for liberty in the Provin
cial Congress and in the wider field of the Con
tinental Congress.
It was a daring project for the parents of John
Adams in their straitened circumstances to send
him to college ; but he was their first-bom, and
the promise of attaining high things was in him.
They cherished the hope that he would become
a minister, — " wag his pow in a poopit," —
fond dream of Puritan households. What an
" Orson of parsons " the robust and explosive
John Adams would have made ! Fortunately
for the peace of a church, which, to quote
his own words, wanted in a parson mainly
" stupidity, irresistible grace, and original sin,"
he developed liberal opinions on some disputed

THE GREAT ADVOCATE OF INDEPENDENCE 71
points in divinity. In this crisis of his fate, upon
graduating from Harvard, he took to teaching
for subsistence, and to the law for vocation. Now,
in the name of aU the gods at once, let us be
thankful that this invincible Samson was preserved
by a happy foreordination for the creation of a
new nation, and not for the shaking of pUlars in
the temple of the PhiUstines ! In this very year
of his decision we find his prescient patriotism
surmising that the seat of empire may be trans
ferred to America ; " that it may be easy to
obtain mastery of the seas, and then the united
force of aU Europe will not be able to subdue us.
The only way to keep us from setting up for our
selves is to disunite us."
From teaching and law study in Worcester he
returned in 1758 to Braintree. " Rose at sun
rise," reads a sample record in his diary, " un-
pitched a load of hay, and translated two more
leaves of Justinian." He is sociaUy inclined, and
¦with farm chores and study mingles chat and tea
with neighbors, and smokes a friendly pipe with
his cousin. Dr. SavU, next door. He even amuses
himself and displays his Latinity byreading Ovid's
" Art of Love " to the doctor's wife as he leans
over the fence. He frequents Parson Wibird's
bachelor quarters in the Spear house, still stand
ing on Canal Street, and exhausts the contents
of that gentleman's mind, " stuffed -with remarks
and stories of human virtues and vices, -wisdom

72 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
and folly." But above all, the most stimulating
conferences on liberty, and at the same time the
most distracting encounter of wits, is to be found
in the home of Josiah Quincy, in the Hancock
parsonage, and in the Quincy mansion, occupied
by Edmund Quincy. There, -with the Quincys
and Jonathan Sewall and John Hancock and
many another known to fame, he talks politics,
law, literature, plays cards, flirts a bit, and de
means himself generaUy in a quite human fashion.
He is ambitious to excel, and bears his part with
such exuberant energy as to be plagued after
ward with compunctious visitings of conscience.
" I have not conversed enough with the world,"
he records, " to behave rightly. I talk to Paine
about Greek, — that makes him laugh. I talk
to Sam Quincy about resolution and being a great
man, and study and improving time, — which
makes him laugh. I talk to Ned [Quincy] about
the f oUy of affecting to be a heretic, — which
makes him mad. I talk to Hannah and Esther
about the folly of love, about despismg it, about
being above it, pretend to be insensible of tender
passions, — which makes them laugh."
He was not reaUy cynical -with regard to the
tender passions ; he was only smitten. The five
lovely daughters of Judge Edmund Quincy, and
the adorable Hannah, daughter of Colonel Josiah
Quincy, aroused in him the unutterable, not to
be awkwardly laughed away. Now shy, and now

THE GREAT ADVOCATE OF INDEPENDENCE 73
boisterous, as is the way of a young man charmed
by a maid, he first fluttered around Esther, and
then fell a victim to the enchantments of Hannah.
To her he was about to propose — the words were
trembling upon his lips — when he was inter
rupted by the fateful intrusion of a merry party
from the mansion. He drew back as from an
abyss which might have swallowed ambition,
study, promotion, patriotism. His youth and
pennUess condition were responsible for this revul
sion of feeling. Now in strenuous study he seeks
an antidote to cleanse his bosom of that perUous
stuff, — " no girl, no gun, no cards, no flutes, no
-vioUns, no dress, no tobacco, no laziness."
John Adams took himself too seriously, as is
the defect of the Pm^itan temper. He was reaUy
devouring books, besides doing a man's work,
almost, on the farm. About this time, 1761, his
father died, and the direction of affairs fell to
him as the eldest son. Now, also, he entered
upon his first performance of public duties.
There prevaUed in his town a sort of compulsory
municipal service which has some significance in
the light thrown back upon it by the disinter
ested attitude of generations of the Adamses.
This service now summoned John Adams to bear
his part. " In March," he says in his diary,
" when I had no suspicion, I heard my name
pronounced [at town meeting] in a nomination
of surveyor of highways. I was very wroth be-

71 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
cause I knew no better, but said nothing. My
friend. Dr. Sa-vil, came to me and told me that
he had nominated me to prevent me from being
nominated as a constable. ' For,' said the doctor,
' they make it a rule to compel every man to serve
either as constable or surveyor, or to pay a fine.'
Accordingly, I went to ploughing and ditching
. . . and buUding an entire new bridge of stone be
low Dr. Miller." Charles F. Adams, the younger,
comments -with satisfaction upon this method,
and declares that the community has a right to
the services of its best men, " the best in a prac
tical sense, and that its claim should be enforced,
when public opinion does not suffice, by other
means." This, he thinks, would be one factor
in solving the great problems connected -with the
government of all towns and cities. However
this may be, the early Quincy method and the
words of Mr. Adams throw light upon a princi
ple the Adamses have invariably foUowed. They
have never sought public ofifice, and they have
never refused public service, however humble.
John Adams was not only road surveyor but
selectman. John Quincy Adams, after he had
been President, did not hesitate to accept the com
paratively humble position of representative to
Congress, declaring that in his opinion " an ex-
President would not be degraded by ser-ving as a
selectman of his town if elected thereto by the
people." And his son, Charles Francis Adams,

THE GREAT ADVOCATE OF INDEPENDENCE 75
our great minister to England during the ci-vil
war, when approached by his fellow townsmen
who wished him to serve on the school board or
in the bank, responded simply, " I am very busy
with my literary work, but if my fellow citizens
think I can serve them in that capacity I will ac
cept the office." It is the chivalry of citizenship,
the fulfiUment of the royal motto " I serve ; "
honored also by the late John Quincy Adams, who
for nearly a score of years officiated as moder
ator of the town meeting, and by the present
Charles Francis Adams, who as a member of the
school committee, did so much to introduce the
improvements known as the " Quincy system."
But to return to John Adams : what besides
bridge buUding is he doing in these formative
days ? Most important event, — he is so taken
with the superb AbigaU that neither studies nor
patriotic visions appear for a moment as rivals.
" Would you know how first he met her ? " No
such homely and explicit answer can be given as
the one humorously set down by Thackeray in his
poem on Werter and Charlotte. She was the
daughter of the Rev. WiUiam Smith, minister of
the church in the neighboring town of Weymouth,
and he may have seen her first in the solemn
setting of the parson's pew. The road between
the to-wns was well trodden, and a companion of
John Adams — Mr. Richard Cranch, no less —
married her elder sister Mary in this very year.

76 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
But one is inclined to the opinion that acquaint
ance began in the animated circles of the Quincy
mansion. AbigaU was connected -with the Quin
cys by marriage. Her grandmother was Mrs.
John Quincy, who lived on the farm at Mount
Wollaston, which adjoined that of Judge Ed
mund Quincy on the seaward side. Here she
was a frequent -pisitor. Indeed, much of aU she
knew was taught her by her grandmother. " Her
excellent lessons," wrote AbigaU later, "made a
more durable impression on my mind than those
which I received from my own parents." Of
course she would be often at the mansion, at
tracted there by its life and gayety ; and there,
still cherishing his heroics against marriage, hus-
tlinsf, and chat, John Adams met her and sur-
rendered unconditionaUy.
John and AbigaU on the 25th of October, 1764,
were married. In several aspects it was a great
triumph for the young lawyer. His profession
had told against him, for one thing. According
to Puritan ethics it was an unnecessary, an un
sanctified calling, ahnost ; f uUer of quirks to set
rogues free than of rules to effect their punish
ment. Consequently, among the officious of the
Weymouth parish there were dissatisfied mur-
murings. The facetious parson Smith was quick
to improve the occasion with a " timely " sermon.
Upon the marriage of his eldest daughter to
Richard Cranch he had preached upon the text.

ABIGAIL ADAMS

THE GREAT ADVOCATE OF INDEPENDENCE 77
" And Mary hath chosen that good part, which
shall not be taken away from her." Now, imme
diately after the marriage of Abigail, he surpassed
himself with a deUverance from the text, " For
John . . . came neither eating bread nor drink
ing wine ; and ye say. He hath a devil."
With this paternal absolution the young couple
began their married life in the home they had
been preparing. It was the house close to the
one in which John was born. By what wealth
of heart's devotion, patriotic fervor, noble self-
sacrifice, was that home consecrated ! Abigail
brought to it a spirit as clear and ardent as that
which burned in the breast of John, the " white
fire" of his flaming zeal for Uberty and the rights
of man. He was educated far beyond her, for it
was the " fashion to ridicule female learning,"
and she was never sent to school ; but a New
England home, the Bible and Shakespeare were
enough to draw out and enrich the rare powers
with which she was originally endowed, and to
make her one of the greatest women of the age,
a helpmeet for one of its greatest men.
In the high thinking of that home, the idea
of independence, floating already in the free spirit
of the first settlers, was clearly formed and ex
plicitly uttered. So, when the fateful moment
struck, the man was there to fUng the creative
word among the glowing souls of a people, and,
like the central element which originates a sun,

78 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
it drew aU " celestial ardours " to itself, and a
new luminary among the galaxy of nations roUed
into order and orbit.
Onward from his twentieth year he never wa
vered in his conviction that his country was des
tined to be free and independent. His was that
large view of human events, that vision of things
to come, which belongs to the morally sagacious.
How quick he is to detect in any true word, or
aspiration of a genuine man, the heralding of the
new day ! While yet a student of law, in the
year 1761, he hangs upon the eloquence of James
Otis as he argues against the " Writs of Assist
ance " and takes those notes of the address which
are the best which have been handed down to this
generation. His sympathetic conclusions even
then outran the thoughts of the elder patriot.
RecaUing his impressions, fifty years later, he
wrote, " Then and there was the first scene of the
first act of opposition to the arbitrary claims of
Great Britain. Then and there the chUd Inde
pendence was born." Not a word of independ
ence, however, appears in Otis's fervent denun
ciation of that " kind of power, the exercise of
which, in former periods of English history, cost
one king of England his head, and another his
throne." It is a plea for " English Uberty "
against a misguided parUament, and it is plain
that John Adams flung into that moulten torrent
the glowing hopes of his own ardent soul.

THE GREAT ADVOCATE OF INDEPENDENCE 79
Fast upon the heels of this act of tyranny came
a second, "the Stamp Act." In the thriU of
indignant resentment which possessed the colo
nists when they heard of the passage of the act,
John Adams came to the front. " I drew up a
petition to the selectmen of Braintree," he wrote
in his diary, " and procured it to be signed by a
number of the respectable inhabitants, to caU a
meeting of the town to instruct their representa
tives in relation to the stamps." Boston, in May,
1764, even before the act had been voted by
parUament, had denied, in resolutions drawn up
by Samuel Adams, the right of parUament to tax
the colonies -without their consent. This was
the first deUberate protest. Now, in 1765, with
that protest unheeded, backed though it was by
other provinces, the people arrayed themselves
so menacingly against the act that parliament
was forced to recede. From Virginia's House of
Burgesses, in May, rang through the land Patrick
Henry's impassioned " if-this-be-treason " speech.
Massachusetts caUed for a general Congress, and
mobs everywhere terrorized the officials appointed
to distribute the stamps. The Braintree meet
ing was held on the 24th of September, Nor
ton Quincy acting as moderator. John Adams
modestly records, " I prepared a draught of in
structions at home, and carried them with me.
The cause of the meeting was explained at some
length, and the state and danger of the country

80 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
pointed out ; a committee was appointed to pre
pare instructions, of which I was nominated as
one. My draught was unanimously adopted with
out amendment, reported to the town, and ac
cepted without a dissenting voice. . • . They
rang through the state and were adopted in so
many words ... by forty towns, as instructions
to their representatives." That " explanation of
the cause at some length," what was it but the
earliest of those clear, forceful and statesmanlike
utterances which made him the " Colossus " of
the debates on Independence ? To Patrick Henry
ten years later he wrote, " I know of none so com
petent to the task (of framing a constitution for
Virginia) as the author of the first Virginia reso
lutions against the Stamp Act, who -will have the
glory with posterity of beginning and conclud
ing this great revolution." Perhaps the Virginia
orator would have spoken as generously of John
Adams could he have heard the echoes of his ad
dress in Braintree town meeting. Both had a
" just sense of our rights and Uberties," and both
gave wings to that battle-cry of the Revolution,
" No taxation without representation." On May
16th, 1766, the glorious news was announced in
Boston that a vessel belonging to John Hancock
had brought the tidings that the Stamp Act had
been repealed.
Into " atmospheric existence " thus highly
charged with moral and patriotic electricity a son

THE GREAT ADVOCATE OF INDEPENDENCE 81
was born July 11, 1767. The next day, as
was then the practice, parson Wibird was called
in, and the child was baptized. Grandmother
Smith was there, and she requested that he should
be named after her father, the aged John Quincy,
who then lay dying in his home at Mount Wollas
ton. Long afterwards President John Quincy
Adams wrote as follows of this transaction : " It
was fiUal tenderness that gave the name. It was
the name of one passing from earth to immor
tality. These have been among the strongest
Unks of my attachment to the name of Quincy,
and have been to me through life a perpetual
admonition to do nothing unworthy of it."
Elevated was life in this " little hut," but it
was real, genuine, beautifully domestic. The
scene of it, visible there now to any pious pilgrim,
and reverently preserved in many of its antique
appointments by the Quincy Historical Society,
assists the imagination to realize its noble sim
plicity. The dining-room or general living room,
with its wide open fireplace, is where the young
couple would most often pass their evenings, and
in winter would very likely occupy in measureless
content a single settle, roasting on one side and
freezing on the other. The kitchen, full of
cheerful bustle, and fragrant as the spice isles,
how it would draw the children as they grew up,
the little John Quincy araong them ! Here they
could be near mother, and watch her with absorb-

82 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
ing attention as she superintended the cooking,
now hanging pots of savory meats on the crane,
and now drawing from the cavernous depths of
the brick oven the pies and baked beans and In
dian puddings and other deUcacies of those days.
We can more easily imagine the home scene when
we read these words written by Mrs. Adams to
her husband : " Our son is much better than
when you left home, and our daughter rocks him
to sleep ¦with the song of ' Come papa, come home
to brother Johnnie.' " " Johnnie ! " is the dig
nified President and " old man eloquent " that
is to be.
John Adams was not permitted to enjoy without
interruption the dear delights of home in " still,
calm, happy Braintree." To extend his legal
practice he removed his family to Boston. There,
in that centre of revolutionary agitations, he min
gled with Samuel Adams, and Otis, and Josiah
Quincy, Jr., and Dr. Warren, and other Idndred
spirits ; there he spent evenings with the Sons of
Liberty in Thomas Dawes's haU, near the Liberty
Tree ; there the British troops, put into the town
to overawe it, drilled before his house ; and there,
about nine o'clock of the 5th of March, 1770,
he was alarmed by the ringing of bells, and hurry
ing out was informed that the British soldiers had
fired on the inhabitants, and had killed some and
wounded others, near the town house. This was
the " Boston Massacre," and during the night

THE GREAT ADVOCATE OF INDEPENDENCE 83
Captain Preston and his soldiers were arrested.
" The next morning, I think it was," writes John
Adams, " sitting in my oflfice near the steps of
the town house stairs, Mr. Forrest came in, who
was then called the Irish Infant. With tears
streaming from his eyes he said, '1 am come
-with a very solemn message from a very unfortu
nate man. Captain Preston, in prison. He wishes
for counsel, and can get none. I have waited on
Mr. Quincy, who says he will engage if you wiU
give him your assistance.' I had no hesitation in
answering that counsel ought to be the very last
thing an accused person should want in a free
country." Why John Adams, a patriot, should
render this service to the oppressors of his peo
ple, amazed many of his fellow citizens ; but he
himself, speaking of it later, declared it to be
" one of the most gaUant, manly, and disinter
ested actions of my whole life."
To the great detriment of both his health and
his law practice he was carried deeper and deeper
into the whirl of patriotic agitation. The coming
storm now lowered darkly, and was visible enough
in the imposition of new taxes, in assaults upon
the independence of the judiciary, in the Boston
Tea Party, and the vengefiU Port Bill. Antici
pating the worst, John Adams moved his famUy
back to Braintree. How much he longed to
abide with them in peace, if that might be, is
expressed in his diary : " I should have thought

84 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
myself the happiest man in the world if I could
have retired to my little hut and forty acres, which
my father left me in Braintree, and Uved on po
tatoes and sea-weed the rest of my Ufe. But I
had taken a part, I had adopted a system, I had
encouraged my fellow citizens, and I could not
abandon them in conscience and in honor."
That system was the Independence of his coun
try, now more clearly held as inevitable, but at
that time a thought too daring to be accepted by
many. His cousin, Samuel Adams, had come to
a Uke conclusion soon after 1768 ; besides him,
however, few or none went with John Adams.
These two were joined in pleading that the courts
be opened, when Governor Hutchinson closed
them for not complying with the Stamp Act.
They had then employed the most radical argu
ments, contending that neither taxes nor laws
shoiUd be imposed upon freemen by a legisla
ture in which they were not represented. Again
they were united in a matter of vital importance :
in 1774 they with two others were appointed
delegates by the Massachusetts Assembly to the
First Continental Congress, to be held at PhUa
delphia. Of one mind with regard to the attitude
the country must take eventually, they soon
learned how far in advance they were of the
ideas commonly held. Delegates paled at the
word Independence. Regiments of British troops
were here in America, and more were coming, to

THE GREAT ADVOCATE OF INDEPENDENCE 85
enforce submission to unjust laws, yet the idea
of separation must not be mentioned. This very
Congress of protest, in an address to the king,
used the words, " Your royal authority over us
and our connection with Great Britain, we shall
always carefully and zealously endeavor to sup
port and maintain." The Adamses were as yet
powerless to advance their great idea. How
ever, they had only to abide their time ; coming
events were to be their great alUes.
Abigail Adams, left in the Braintree home, is
on " the firing line," a -witness of aU the occur
rences which, in so tragic a manner, were to co
operate with her husband. She is aflame -with
indignation at the oft-repeated tales of the inso
lence of Gage's troops in Boston ; she is the
inspiration of her patriot neighbors ; she is in
correspondence with Warren and other leaders.
When the storm is let loose in the whirlwind
passion of Lexington and Concord, her home
is the centre of excitement. The minute-men
stream along the highway to invest Boston ; the
militia are drilUng on the common bythe meeting
house; the shores are guarded. One morning,
on the appearance of three sloops and a cutter,
"the people come flocking this way, every wo
man and chUd driven off from below my father's,
my father's family flying." Still later she writes,
" My house is in confusion ; soldiers coming in
for lodging, for breakfast, for supper, for drink.

86 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
. . . Sometimes refugees from Boston, tired and
fatigued, seek an asylum for a day, a night, a
week." Mr. Adams, now attending the Second Congress,
is anxious, and counsels her if real danger threat
ens, to fly to the woods with the chUdren. She is
" distressed but not dismayed." The excitement
swells and rises towering to the 17th of June,
1775, when, as Mrs. Adams writes, " the day,
perhaps the decisive day, is come on which the
fate of America depends." At early dawn the
town is awakened by the heavy cannonading of
the British ships, firing against the breastworks
thrown up on Bunker HiU. " The constant roar
of the cannon is so distressing we cannot eat,
drink or sleep." Taking with her the Uttle John
Quincy, now about eight years old, she cUmbs
the neighboring Penn's Hill, and looks toward
Boston. " It was a clear June day," writes the
younger C. F. Adams, " and across the blue bay
they saw against the horizon the dense, black
column of smoke which rolled away from the
burning houses of Charlestown. Over the crest
of the distant hUl hung the white clouds which
told of the battle going on beneath the smoke.
There was, withal, something quite dramatic in
the scene ; but, as the two sat there, silent and
trembling, the child's hand clasped in that of the
mother, thinking now of what was taking place
before their eyes, and now of the husband and

THE GREAT ADVOCATE OF INDEPENDENCE 87
father so far away at the Congress, they Uttle
dreamed of the great future for him and for the
boy, to be surely worked out in that conflict, the
first pitched battle of which was then being
fought out before them." Next day, writing to
her husband, she says, " My bursting heart must
find vent at my pen. ... I have just heard that
our dear friend Dr. Warren is no more, but feU
gloriously fighting for his country ; saying, better
to die honorably in the field, than ignominlously
hang upon the gaUows. Great is our loss. . . .
It is expected [the British] wUl come out over
the Neck to-night, and a dreadful battle must
ensue. Almighty God cover the heads of our
countrymen, and be a shield to our dear friends ! "
At the very hour in which Abigail Adams and
her son were watching the battle of Bunker Hill,
John Adams, with sagacious forethought, was
securing the election of Colonel George Wash
ington of Virginia as commander-in-chief of the
forces of the colonies. At a stroke he thus
united North and South, and committed aU
the colonies to the war for liberty. Henceforth
these two, George Washington, the great captain
of the Revolution, and John Adams, the great
statesman of the Revolution, loom conspicuous
in those troubled times, and cease not their
mighty labors till they have won freedom and
independence for a people, and established in
strength this vast Republic of the West.

88 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
To secure the pledge of the whole country to
take up the cause and the army of New England
was certainly a great achievement ; it was no less
an achievement to induce the whole country to
speak with one voice the word Independence.
Before the battle of Lexington he hardly dared
breathe the thought in the hearing of Congress.
Almost all the members were averse to such a step.
His ideas are contemptuously spoken of as the rad
ical and leveling ideas of Massachusetts. He is
"avoided like a man infected -with the leprosy."
"Even Washington," declares John Fiske, "when
he came to take command of the army at Cam
bridge, after the battle of Bunker HUl, had not
made up his mind that the object of the war was
to be the independence of the colonies." In the
same month of July, 1775, Jefferson said ex
pressly, " We have not raised armies with designs
of separating from Great Britain and establish
ing independent states. Necessity has not yet
driven us into that desperate measure." John
Adams, meanwhile, schooled himself to exercise
patience, which was not exactly one of his vir
tues, and with suppressed passion waited for the
hour that was sure to strike. " I am obliged to
be on my guard," he writes, " yet the heat within
-wiU burst forth at times." Stubborn strength
of will is, however, one of the very elements of
the Adams make-up, and he fought on. Lexing
ton and Concord and Bunker HiU fought -with

THE GREAT ADVOCATE OF INDEPENDENCE 89
him ; these and the rejection by the King of the
" olive branch " petition, forced a hearing of his
great thought. The burning of Portland assisted,
so also did the publication of " Common Sense,"
by Thomas Paine. In March, 1776, AbigaU
Adams wrote : " I am charmed with the senti
ments of ' Common Sense,' and wonder how an
honest heart, one who wishes the welfare of his
country and the happiness of posterity, can hesi
tate one moment at adopting them. I want to
know how these sentiments are received in Con
gress. I dare say there would be no difficulty
in procuring a vote and instructions from aU
the AssembUes in New England for Independ
ency." And now, in May, Virginia adopted those fa
mous instructions to her delegates in Congress
" to propose to that respectable body to declare
the United Colonies free and independent states."
Thus encouraged, John Adams, on the 15th of
May, urged successfully the adoption of a reso
lution recommending all the colonies to form for
themselves independent governments. In the
preamble, which he wrote, it was declared that
the American people could no longer conscien
tiously take oath to support any government
deriving its authority from the Crown. This
preamble, as Fiske says, " contained within itself
the gist of the whole matter. To adopt it was
virtually to cross the Rubicon." "The Gordian

90 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
knot is cut at last ! " exclaimed John Adams.
The thoughts of men, of whole provinces, now
rapidly crystallized. Richard Henry Lee, "tall
and commanding in person, with the noble coun
tenance of a Roman, the courage of a Caesar, and
the eloquence of a Cicero," submitted to Congress,
on the 7th of June, 1776, a motion embodying
the instructions of Virginia. In the precise lan
guage; almost, of the Virginia Convention he
moved, " That these United Colonies are, and of
right ought to be, free and independent States ;
that they are absolved from aU aUegiance to the
British Crown, and that aU political connection
between them and the state of Great Britain, is,
and ought to be, totaUy dissolved." The mo
tion was seconded, as a descendant of Patrick
Henry writes, " by the glorious old John Adams,"
and "Massachusetts stood side by side -with
Virginia." Debate followed, but the decision
was postponed for three weeks. Then, on the
1st of July, Congress taking up the " resolution
respecting independency " once more, John
Adams led off in a speech of surpassing eloquence,
and a " power of thought and expression which,"
said Jefferson, " moved the members from their
seats." He was the " Colossus of that Congress,"
as Jefferson again testifies, the " Atlas of Inde
pendence," as Richard Stockton declared. He
compeUed conviction, and, at last, on the 2d of
July, the flame in his own soul fused into a

THE GREAT ADVOCATE OF INDEPENDENCE 91
single molten current the aspirations of a peo
ple, and amid the glow of noble, daring, and
fervent speech, the resolutions of independency
were unanimously adopted. The preparation of
the immortal Declaration had been previously
submitted to a committee consisting of Jefferson,
Adams, Franklin, Sherman, and Livingston, and
on the evening of the 4th of July, it was adopted
with equal unanimity.
Elated and thankful was John Adams. In a
burst of exultation he wrote to Mrs. Adams :
" The 2d day of July, 1776, wUl be the most
memorable epoch in the history of America. I
am apt to believe that it wUl be celebrated by
succeeding generations as the great anniversary
festival. It ought to be commemorated, as the
day of deUverance, 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 the continent to the other, from this
time forward, forevermore." So the event has
been celebrated, but the 4th of July, the date
of the adoption of the Declaration, is the one
the people recognize as the culminating moment
of the great event. Then there suddenly rose
" in the world a new empire styled the United
States of America."
Trumbull's picture of the signing of the
Declaration is true to the life. John Adams,

92 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
viewing it in Faneuil HaU in his later years, re
caUed that, when engaged in signing it, a side
conversation took place between Harrison, who
was remarkably corpulent, and Elbridge Gerry,
who was remarkably thin. "Ah, Gerry," said
Harrison, " I shall have an advantage over you
in this act." " How so ? " inquired Gerry.
" Why," replied Harrison, " when we come to
be hung for this treason, I am so hea-vy, I shall
plump down upon the rope and be dead in an
instant ; but you are so light, that you -wiU be
dangling and kicking about for an hour in the
air." The indomitable patience, the conquering per
sistence, of John Adams at PhUadelphia, were
equaled by AbigaU's display of heroic virtues at
home. She sustained him by her affection and
by her reenforcement of his convictions. " Let
us separate from the King's party," she exhorts.
" Let us renounce them and instead of suppUca-
tion as formerly, let us beseech the Almighty to
blast their counsels and bring to naught aU their
devices." She is " farm woman," guiding wisely
the sowing and the reaping which is to bring
her children bread : she is the strength of her
distracted neighbors, through terrors by night
and day, through want, and through the horrors
of a pestilence. Her home, indeed, is a centre
of life and hope and inspiration. All this is
luminous in those remarkable letters which have

THE GREAT ADVOCATE OF INDEPENDENCE 93
done so much to make known her great virtues
and to extend her fame. During these exciting
years of her husband's absence the young John
Quincy is a great comfort to her. The little
fellow when barely nine years old fearlessly be
comes her " post rider," going on horseback unat
tended over the eleven long mUes of the coun
try road to Boston for letters. And now she is to
lose both the boy and his father. Word comes
to John Adams, in November of 1777, then
home hardly a month from Congress, announ
cing his appointment to the court of France. So
on a February morning Mr. Adams and his boy
drive do-wn to Norton Quincy's, near the shore.
The mother did not accompany them, feeling, it
is likely, hardly equal to a second leave taking.
It was a rough mid-winter voyage, in a vessel far
from staunch, and there was no lack of excite
ment from perilous storms and possible Eng
Ush cruisers. Mr. Adams exhibited much forti
tude and practical -wisdom, and he testified that
" Johnnie behaved like a man." In this, as in
all his missions abroad, John Adams comported
himself magnificently, upholding with audacious
courage the rights and honor of his native coun
try. He was as unyielding in his demands for
consideration as if he had the America of to-day
behind him, and secured, in treaties of peace and
commerce, concessions his coUeagues had deemed
impossible.

94 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
After an absence of eighteen months he re
turned to Braintree, August 2, 1779, landing on
the very beach of the Mount WoUaston farm,
close to Norton Quincy's house, from which he
had embarked a year and a half before. So use
ful a citizen was not long permitted to enjoy the
repose and delights of his home. Hardly a week
had passed by when the town voted to send a
delegate — but one, though others were called
for — to the convention which was to frame a
State constitution, and " the Hon'ble John
Adams, Esq., was chosen for that purpose." The
convention instructed him to draw up a draught
for its consideration, and this, as Mellen Cham
berlain writes, furnished the model for the Con
stitution of Massachusetts and other States, and
from it was adopted the form of the general
government in the Constitution of the United
States. "Fifty millions of people to-day Uve
under a constitution the essential features of
which are after his model."
John Adams was not allowed to remain with
the convention long enough to present the model
himself. He was again sent abroad, and the
draught was passed over to his associates on the
committee, James Bowdoin and Samuel Adams.
He again went to France ; this time to assist in
the negotiations for peace. While still abroad
he was in May of 1785 appointed our first min
ister to the English court. At that time he was

THE GREAT ADVOCATE OF INDEPENDENCE 95
in London, where his wife had joined him the
year before. " I remember her," wrote Josiah
Quincy, describing her departure, "a matronly
beauty, in which respect she yielded to few of
her sex, full of joy and elevated -with hope.
Peace had just been declared. Independence ob
tained, and she was preparing to go from that
humble mansion to join the husband she loved
at the Court of St. James."
Upon their return to America Mr. Adams was
immediately appointed once more a delegate to
Congress, but before he had time to serve his
country in that capacity he was elevated to the
position of Vice-President. This office, as was
then the rule, went to the person who received the
second highest vote for President. Washington
and John Adams, one in character and patri
otism, united to lead the New Republic on its
untried way ! What an exalted illustration was
that of the ideal of representative government,
the choice of the best men for rulers ! Loyally
Adams labored with Washington through the
eight years of his administration, and then, in
1797, he himself was elected to the Presidency.
Four stormier, more exacting years had not
fallen to his lot than these in which he was now
put foremost to assist the country to adjust it
self to its internal and external relations. Wash
ington's second term had been more harassing,
perturbed, and exacting than the first. The

96 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
country was restless in the uncertainty of its
attitude toward England and France in their
gigantic conflict ; the raw material of free citi
zenship was not yet consolidated into a nation ;
local attachments had not been modified, nor
jealousies expelled by the power of a wider
patriotism. AU these excitants of irritation,
augmented, were bequeathed to the administra
tion of John Adams. Through bitterest parti
san strife, through the selfish intrigues of the
French, through the domineering of the Eng
Ush, he never was less than noble. Passionately
he resented what he felt to be injustice, impa
tiently he girded at plain stupidity. The Adamses
are born that way ; they are not conspicuous for
meekness. But the welfare of the country was
his supreme care, and for that he esteemed no
sacrifice too great.
His administration, it is not to be denied, was
admirable in its strength. With the vigorous
practical sense so characteristic of him, he saw
things just as they were, measured accurately
the human elements and tendencies in the great
adversaries that threatened from foreign shores,
instinctively divined the right and the possible.
Consequently the lines of his poUcy took on a
permanent character not to be set aside by the
" peaceable coercion " or other theories of his
successor. He held the new nation to its predes
tined course with firm grasp, however strong the

THE GREAT ADVOCATE OF INDEPENDENCE 97
sweep of deflecting currents or wildly tempestuous
the seas. Time has justified his chief measures,
and none more than the inception of that navy
which in these later days has gained for our na
tion so much renown. This was congenial work,
for there was deep in him an irrepressible Ber
serker element. The rage of fight was easily
aroused in him for a just cause. " Above aU, war,
for a profession," is what he thought of in start
ing out in life, and while the Revolution lasted,
his hand itched to grasp the sword.
For a republic so divinely born, and watched
over still by the venerated founders, the amount
of original sin developed was surprising. Jeal
ousies, misunderstandings, intrigues, party pas
sions, were sorrowfuUy proportionate, in volume
and intensity, to what humbles us in these degen
erate days. And most unexpected of all, for its
touch of ingratitude, was the uprising of " un-
girt " democracy against the straight-laced, dig
nified, and ideal statesmanship of Washington
and Adams. John Adams failed of reelection to
a second term. He was deeply hurt ; cut to the
heart. Frank and open as the day, and altogether
devoted to his country, he hated with a perfect
hatred the underground scheming and self-seek
ing which he was persuaded had confused and
perverted the judgment of the people. Majestic
as Lear in his indignation and wrath, he turned
his face eastward, not waiting to greet his sue-

98 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
cessor, Thomas Jefferson. Discourteous, was it ?
Pardonable, for all that, as the fling of an hon
est man who could not bring his soul to dissem
ble in a last official function.
The disappointment over his defeat for a
second term was almost balanced by the joy of
return to " still, calm, happy Braintree." That
part of it in which he Uved had been set off in
1792, and caUed Quincy, after John Quincy,
whose name Mr. Adams had given to his own
son. Not to the " Uttle hut " did he return, how
ever, but to a habitation more in keeping -with
his station. This was the house of Leonard Vas-
saU, a West India planter, which, after the Rev
olution, had been sequestrated as Tory property.
It was built in 1731, and Mr. Adams bought it
in 1785. The Vassalls were genteel people, and
rigid EpiscopaUans. Mr. VassaU, before his mar
riage, made a wUl -with the provision that his
widow should have the use and improvement of
his real estate so long as she continued " a pro
fessed member of the Episcopal Church of Eng
land." The house in Quincy was used as a sum
mer resort, and still contains one room paneled
from floor to ceUing in solid St. Domingo mahog
any. Originally a small dwelUng, it has been
added to until the earlier structure is almost lost
in the wide front and deep gabled wings of the
later structure.
Here John Adams and his wife were to spend

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THE GREAT ADVOCATE OF INDEPENDENCE 99
the remainder of their days, honored by their
townspeople, visited by eminent foreigners and
by adoring Americans. Here they celebrated
their golden wedding, and here too, marvelous
to relate, was celebrated the golden wedding of
their son John Quincy Adams, and that of their
grandson, Charles Francis Adams. What testi
mony is this to the vitaUty of the Adams famUy !
John Adams never seemed to have any declin
ing years. In his retirement he continued to rise
as early as four or five o'clock, often building
his own fire. When the weather permitted he
walked up the lane opposite his house to the top
of " Presidents' Hill," twice every day, to see the
sun rise and set. And on Sunday, whatever the
weather, he attended divine ser-rice at the church
of his fathers. With sympathetic observation he
noted the continuous advance of a more genial
and spiritual religion gaining upon the leaden
atmosphere of New England theology. ExceUent
were his opportunities in this regard, for the
ablest ministers in Massachusetts sought ex
changes with Parson Whitney of the Quincy
church. Josiah Quincy, in his " Figures of the
Past," conducts us into the old meeting-house,
crowded with its farmer folk, its viUage aristo
cracy, its judges, captains, and distinguished visi
tors ; and we can almost see in the front pew on
the right of the broad aisle the dignified form
of the President.

100 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE Bl.'^GAN
" An air of respectful deference to Joh3^
Adams seemed to pervade the building. The
ministers brought their best sermons when they
came to exchange, and had a certain conscious
ness in their manner as if officiating before roy
alty. The medley of stringed and wind instru
ments in the gallery — a sur-vival of the sacred
trumpets and shawms mentioned by King Da-vid
— seemed to the imagination of a chUd to be
making discord together in honor of the vener
able chief who was the centre of interest."
In the rural surroundings of his Quincy home
John Adams met Lafayette for the last time.
When they were both younger they had associ
ated on intimate terms in France and in America.
Together they had gone through the great strug
gle for American independence, and now when
that struggle was all behind them, and Lafayette
as well as himself was advanced in years, they
were to meet again for a moment, and then to
part forever. With much emotion the President
waited for his guest. When Lafayette appeared
he rose to meet him, and the two venerable men
threw their arms about each other's neck, and
lifted up their voices and wept. Afterwards
Lafayette visited the Quincys. " That was not
the John Adams I remember," he said, — a
thought which also came to Mr. Adams, who
said, " That was not the Lafayette I remember."
Forty years had made a great difference. Two

THE GREAT ADVOCATE OF INDEPENDENCE 101
little grandchUdren of the President, EUzabeth C.
Adams and Isaac HuU Adams, begged to be al
lowed to remain in the room, and saw the whole
scene. EUzabeth is li-ving to-day (1902, aged
ninety-four), and her memory of all that took
place then is vivid, and connects us dUectly -with
that distant time. She occupies the old house
of their father. Chief Justice Thomas Boylston
Adams, on Elm Street, Quincy.
In his last days John Adams became recon
cUed to Thomas Jefferson, and together they
carried on a friendly correspondence : now at the
solemn close they were to be associated in a man
ner strikingly dramatic and appropriate. " On
the 4th of July, 1826," writes C. F. Adams, the
younger, "the town celebrated with special re
joicings the fiftieth anniversary of Independence.
It was celebrated as its sturdiest supporter had
fifty years before predicted it would be, as ' a
day of deliverance, with pomp and parade, with
shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and
illuminations.' " On that fair glad day — in the
midst of peace and prosperity and political good
feeUng, -with the sound of joyous bells and boom
ing guns ringing in his ears, -with his own toast
of " Independence forever " still Ungering on
the lips of his townsmen — the spirit of the
old patriot passed away. His last words were,
" Thomas Jefferson stiU survives." But Jeffer
son, too, had passed away a few hours earUer on
that memorable Independence Day.

102 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
"His beloved and only wife," AbigaU, had died
some eight years before this, on the 28th of
October, 1818. That union of more than half a
century had been as ideal as our humanity may
illustrate. " They survived in harmony of sen
timent, principle, and affection the tempests of
civU commotion ; meeting undaunted and sur
mounting the terrors and trials of that Revolu
tion which secured the freedom of their country,
improved the condition of their times, and bright
ened the prospects of futurity to the race of man
upon earth." So enduring, so perfect, so benefi
cent generally had been this union that it seems
as though in the scheme of things they should
have lived together to the end, and in a day have
been summoned to that eternal companionship
in which, neither marrying nor given in mar
riage, they are " like the angels which are in
heaven." The desolation of the years of sepa
ration bore heavily upon John Adams, but he
was sustained by his Christian faith and habitual
acceptance of aU which the Divine order imposed.
Besides the famous John Quincy they had four
other children : Abigail, born July 14, 1765, who
married H. W. Smith ; Susanna, born December
28, 1768, who died in 1770 ; Charies, born May
29, 1770, who married Sarah Smith, and Thomas
Boylston, born September 15, 1772, who married
Ann Harod.
Moved, as John Adams expressed it, " by the

VIEW OF THE VILLAGE OF QUINCY FROM PRESIDENTS' HILL, 1822
2 Residence of Governor Sliirley. 3 Mr. Palmer's house at Germantown. 4 Former residence of Mr. Wibird. i House of
Rev. Mr. Whitney.

THE GREAT ADVOCATE OF INDEPENDENCE 103
veneration he felt for the residence of his ances
tors and the place of his nativity, and the habitual
affection he bore to the inhabitants with whom
he had so happUy lived for more than eighty-six
years," he left his large and valuable library to
the town of Quincy, and gave lands for the sup
port of a school for the teaching of the Greek
and Roman languages, and, if thought ad-visable,
the Hebrew. In 1871 the Academy buUding was
erected on the site of the house in which John
Hancock was born. A gift as generous was also
made to the ancient First Church, with which he
and all his ancestors had been activly connected,
enabling it to buUd in place of the old wooden
structure a stately stone temple of worship. It
was finished in 1828, and under its portico his
remains and those of his wife were eventually
entombed. There, in a square chamber solidly
waUed -with granite, and closed -with iron doors,
they rest side by side in two immense granite
sarcophagi, " tiU the trump shall sound," as a
mural tablet within the church declares.
In connection with this Quincy celebration of
the Fourth, John Adams sent to his fellow citi
zens of the United States his last deliberate mes
sage on Independence. The follo-wing letter, now
first brought to light, has been preserved among
her family papers by Mrs. Abigail Whitney,
formerly of Quincy, but now living with her
daughter, Mrs. WUliam R. Poison of Brooklyn,

104 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
N. Y. Mrs. Whitney is the -widow of WUUam F.
Whitney, a nephew of the Captain John Whitney
to whom the letter is addressed. The italics fol
low the underscoring of the dictation, and make
more manifest the fact that the aged patriot was
conscious that these were his last words upon the
great principle to which he had devoted his Ufe.
How weighty they are with his soul's conviction !
What force of wUl constrained the trembUng hand
to write the signature, perhaps his last !
Quincy, June 7, 1826.
Captain John Whitney, Chairman of the Committee of
arrangements, for celebrating the approaching Anniver
sary ofthe Ath of July in the town of Quincy.
SiE, — Your letter of the 3'^ Instant, written on behaK
of the Committee of Arrangements, for the approaching cele
bration of our National Independence, inviting me to dine,
on the Fourth of July next, with the citizens of Quincy, at
the Town Hall, has been received with the kindest emo
tions. The very respectful language with which the wishes
of my Fellow Townsmen have been conveyed to me by your
Committee, and the terms of affectionate regard toward me
individuaUy, demand my grateful thanks, which you will
please to accept and to communicate to your Colleagues of
the Committee.
The present feeble state of my health will not permit me
to indulge the hope of participating, with more than by my
best wishes in the joys and festivities and the solemn services
of that day ; on which will be completed the fiftieth year
from its birth, the Independence of these United States. A
MEMORABLE epoch in the annals of the human race ; des
tined, in future history, to form the brightest or the blackest
page, according to the use or the abuse of those political in-

THE GREAT ADVOCATE OF INDEPENDENCE 105
stitutions by wliich they shall, in time to come, be shaped by
the human mind.
I pray you, sir, to tender in my behalf to our fellow citi
zens my cordial thanks for their affectionate good wishes,
and to be assured that I am

¦'3

^^GLoirm^

VI
THE PURITAN PRESIDENT, JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.
John Adams lived long enough to rejoice in
the election of his son John Quincy Adams to
the Presidency. Modestly, in a brief note, the
one writes of his election, devoutly the other gives
his patriarchal blessing. Such a conjunction
stands alone in our history. It so affected the
imagination of some opponents that they flung
out insinuations of a revival of monarchical insti
tutions in this bringing in of " John the Second
of the House of Braintree." But it was by his
o-wn strength of character, his -wide intelUgence,
his exalted virtues, and his measureless ser-vice,
that John Quincy Adams won this tribute from
the nation, and not because he was the son of his
father. Great men were they both ; among the
greatest whom America honors. Do we curiously
inquire which was the more towering figure ? It
were no easy task to try to set one above the
other. The elder may have excelled in original
power, but the younger surpassed in learning. In
both was the moral earnestness of the Puritan,
and the indomitable will which forces the subject
brain and heart to do marvels, and wrests from

THE PURITAN PRESIDENT 107
the gods gifts for man before they are quite
due. Through what a strange and varied career John
Quincy Adams cUmbed to equal eminence -with his
father ! In foreign lands and in Washington the
greater part of his life was lived, far distant from
his native town ; nevertheless it was in Quincy
that the pure gold of his inherited nature received
the royal stamp which the friction of years only
wore brighter. As a boy, standing there on
Penn's Hill -with his mother, his soul thrilling in
response to the thunders of Bunker HUl, he was
estabUshed in the elements of character which
made the man. Dutiful, unselfish, sensible, fine
in every instinct, " -wisdom his early, only choice,"
he was about as near the ideal child of an ideal
Puritan home as New England might produce.
Not in any priggish or formal sense was he this.
He was a genuine boy, unhurt by the serious at
mosphere of his home ; full of life, loving the
woodlands, playing at soldier -with the Colonials
who camped in his father's barn on their way to
the front, and finding it hard among so many
distractions to get down to his books. Indeed,
he thought he would rather work on the farm
than study. After a day's test at ditching he
went back to his dry Latin grammar with much
content. He matured rapidly, that is the point,
for he was teachable and the right principles were
in him. While yet a boy he was manly. He

108 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
astonished even his mother. When she was united
to him in London, he then sixteen years of age,
she cried out that his appearance " is that of a
man, and in his countenance the most perfect
good humor ; his conversation by no means de
nies his stature." And why should he not be all
this ! Europe had been an open page before him.
At Paris, at Amsterdam, at Leyden, his eyes were
fiUed and his soul was fed with scenes and books
and the ways of men. When not quite fourteen
he actually found himself launched upon a diplo
matic career, going to Russia -with envoy Dana,
and back at Paris, serving as additional secretary
to Jefferson, Franklin, and his father in negoti
ating the final treaty with Great Britain.
How fascinating this Ufe must have been to
him ! and now that his father was minister to the
Court of St. James, and his mother residing in
London with him, what a temptation there was to
continue it ! And he might have done so, but
for that Puritan conscience of his. Oxford, se
questered " in the quiet and stUl air of delightful
studies " allured him. Subscription to the Thir
ty-Nine Articles, however, stood in the way, an
obstacle not to be surmounted. He could not so
stultify himself as to sign what he did not believe,
nor would his father encourage such stultifica
tion. This, and the conviction that in America
he could " get his own living in an honorable
manner," and " live independent and free," de-

JOHN QUINCY ADAMS

LOUISA CATHERINE ADAMS

THE PURITAN PRESIDENT 109
cided him to return home and enter Harvard Col
lege. Along these Unes his nature, according to its
kind, unfolded in fresh surprises of fortitude,
resourcefulness, noble daring, and passion for
justice. SturdUy independent as he was from
the beginning, and disciplined to do his duty at
aU costs, he was yet tolerant where tolerance was
a virtue ; friendly too in that early day, with a
fine flavor of poetry and a deep sense of piety
refining all his aspirations. Stern and grim he
came to be ; but it was the bitter conflict thrust
upon him that made him so. And what a fighter
he was ! How prompt and hard he hit ! How
fearless, facing alone a host of foes ! A hero,
grand among the great figures of the world;
our CromweU ! America's completest realization
of Puritanism in its strength !
Let us recall the earlier picture, however, — the
young man of thirty, so intellectual, so ideal,
spiritual, as painted by Copley ; for this is the
year in which he married Louisa Catherine John
son. She was the second daughter of Joshua
Johnson, then American consul at London, and
a niece of Governor Johnson of Maryland, signer
of the Declaration and justice of the Supreme
Court. Mr. Adams met her in London, where
by request of Washington he, the minister to the
Hague, had gone to assist in some negotiations.
They were married on the morning of July 26,

110 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
1797, in the Church of AU HaUows, Barking.
Their honeymoon abroad seemed destined to be
brief, for John Adams was elected President soon
after this, and he and John Quincy both felt that
a nice regard for the proprieties of politics called
for the resignation of the son. But Washington
wrote promptly to President Adams urging him
to retain John Quincy, " the most valuable pubUc
character we have abroad, and the ablest of all
our diplomatic corps." So he continued in his
mission to the Hague tUl the election of Jefferson,
four years later.
Ended apparently was his public career, at
least for some time, and he sturdily turned to
the practice of law. But it was only the quiet
moment before the tumult of the storm, — the
brief calm dividing between the life of plain,
if masterly, saiUng, and the deadly, unremitting
struggle with the black rage of elemental pas
sions let loose from the pit. And the marvel of
it is, he never lost his hold on the helm, and,
however bafiled, never failed to bring his ship to
the course laid down by conscience. For poUti
cal honesty and lofty patriotism history -wUl be
searched in vain for a statesman surpassing him.
The high Roman manner was bettered in his
Christian devotion to ideal right. " He never
knowingly," as John T.Morse, Jr., declares, " did
wrong, nor even sought to persuade himself that
wrong was right." And vigorously was this virtue

THE PURITAN PRESIDENT 111
manifested, — not cloister-like, but frankly and
ruggedly, and mixed with wholesome human an
ger. There was the man for the times, every inch
of him, " the Baresark marrow in his bones " !
Just the man for these times too, if we had the
wit to perceive it ; but our idols must be machine
made, patterned according to party creed, no
uncalculable touch of the Almighty's hand in
them. Almost always when John Quincy Adams's name
is uttered, deprecatory hands are raised at remem
brance of his relentless scoring of contemporaries.
It was "thorough ;" that word, dear to Puritan
ism, is graphic, — no one was left out, and he
had an instinct for the vital defects of opponents.
In that diary of his, one of the most remark
able ever written, both for volume and the value
of its information, his denunciations are flung
right and left impartiaUy. Be it noted, however,
that this is never done cynically. Angrily and
bitterly he strikes out, and it is all because his
-victims seem to fall so far below the ideal when
ideal men and measures were so sorely needed.
For this he never spared others, he never
spared himself. " The stars were not clean in
his sight." His high ideals were his glory and
his sorrow. " Never did a man of pure life and
just purposes," says Morse, " have fewer friends
or more enemies than John Quincy Adams."
Tender-hearted as he was, it was no less than

112 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
tragic. " An age of sorrow and a life of storm,"
are the words he wrote late in life under his own
portrait. These ideals, so largely responsible for
the lamentable issue, were not poor limited preju
dices, puritanical in the popular sense, but high
and humane, — genuine revelations of the eternal,
worthy visions for the man who nobly aspires and
a nation which renews the hope of the world.
Naturally they made him impatient with what
seemed the life-wasting distractions of some and
the degenerate self-seeking of others. WhUe in
Ghent, laboring for the most favorable terms of
peace, he cannot withhold his scorn when, rising
at five in the morning to begin the work of the
day, he hears parties breaking up and lea-ving Mr.
Clay's room across the entry, where they have been
playing cards all night long. His self-restraint
and self-discipline gradually enveloped him in a
reserve which was taken to be lack of sympathy
and excess of aristocratic pride. The genial
current of his soul seemed to the undiscernins:
to be frozen. But no leader in our democracy
ever dedicated himself more entirely to the de
fence and establishment of equal rights. He
would not truckle to any, nor -with false bland
ishments seek to win the plain man of the people.
He respected himself, and he respected others as
highly as himself. The sacredness of the human
soul he felt as deeply as did his favorite minister.
Dr. Channing. He was in the grandest sense

THE PURITAN PRESIDENT 113
an absolute democrat. As Theodore Parker elo
quently declared, " he fought, not for a kingdom,
not for fame, but for justice and the eternal
right ; fought, too, with weapons tempered in a
heavenly stream." Every day was begun -with
the reading of a chapter or two in the Bible, and
every day was closed with that petition learned
at his mother's knee, " Now I lay me down to
sleep." Greatest and last of the Puritans was he, a
figure growing ever greater in the ethical per
spective of human advancement. He could be
no partisan. He was too much of an American
for that, as was soon made plain. The Federal
ists of Boston drew him from his retirement by
electing him in 1802 to the state Senate, and
in 1803 to the national Senate. At the out
set he voted for what he thought was -wise and
right, without regard to the claims of party ; and
when the Federalists threw themselves abjectly
at the feet of England, fearing the selfish in
trigues of France, he would have no part in the
humiliation. " Put your trust in neither France
nor England ; let America trust itself," was his
counsel. The increasing arrogance of the Brit
ish, their impressment of our seamen, their de
struction of our commerce, enraged him. Better
resistance, though almost hopeless, than supine
endurance of such wrongs. Culminating atrocity !
The English gunboat Leopard opened her broad-

114 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
sides upon our unprepared frigate, the Chesa
peake, killing and maiming her seamen, and
dragging from among them four men charged
with being British subjects. Adams summoned
the FederaUsts to crowd Faneuil Hall with an
indignation meeting, and when they delayed he
did not hesitate to attend a simUar meeting of
the Jeffersonians. For this he was branded as
a traitor to his party, and his successor to the
Senate was nominated insultingly early. Cost
what it might, this was the kind of thing Mr.
Adams was always ready to do. His reverence
for his country and her institutions was so pro
found he could do nothing unworthy of them.
Madison appointed him minister to Russia,
and through four years he Ulustrated there the
simple democratic dignity of his people. As one
of the commissioners at Ghent to secure the tieaty
of peace which ended the war of 1812, his claims
are as bold as if he represented the undoubted
victors in that conquest. Audaciously he " goes
one better " whenever the British raise their
terms in the diplomatic " game of bluff," actu
ally insisting that Canada should be ceded to the
United States. A treaty was secured so advan
tageous to this country that the EngUsh ruef uUy
declared that better could not have been obtained
had the Americans been triumphant. In 1815
he was appointed envoy extraordinary and min
ister plenipotentiary to Great Britain. America

THE PURITAN PRESIDENT 115
was so heartily disliked and contemned that he
was shown the most studied disfavor. Imper-
turbably, however, he went about his duties, and
with great inteUigence and tact won for his coun
try aU the consideration that was possible.
It was, however, as Secretary of State that his
faith in his country found completest expression.
The world must be " famUiarized -with the idea
of considering our proper domain to be the
continent of America." He secured Florida, he
furthered the acquisition of Louisiana, he wrote
to our minister at Madrid " that it is scarcely
possible to resist the conviction that the annexa
tion of Cuba to our federal republic wiU be indis
pensable to the continuance and integrity of the
Union," and he warned the Czar that " we should
contest the rights of Russia to any territorial
establishment on this continent." In short his
one grand idea was " that we should assume dis
tinctly the principle that the American continents
are no longer subjects for any new European
colonial estabUshments." Here is the first ap
pearance in our history, as C. F. Adams, the elder,
notes, of the policy so well known afterward as
the Monroe Doctrine. Father of it was he, basing
it upon the righteous principle of " the consent
of the governed, af&rmed in our Declaration of
Independence." Then came the trying time of his election to
the presidency. Mean personal politics, intrigue,

116 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
slander, marked the contest. AU this only served
to set in clearer Ught the lofty character of Mr.
Adams. He kept himself aloof from the stiife,
and would " do absolutely nothing for his own
election." He had pursued the course Emer
son praises in Michael Angelo, "to confide in
one's self and be of worth and value ; " he had
served his country as well as he knew how, and
with absolute devotion. Would the people ap
preciate this ? He hungered for their favorable
verdict ; no one better deserved it, yet his high
spirit so revolted at the mere suggestion of bid
ding for votes that he retired behind a more
distant reserve than ever. " If the people -wish
me to be President I shaU not refuse the office,
but I ask nothing from any man or any body
of men." It was not indifference ; it was not
affectation of pride. It was the feeling that the
fine bloom of honors bestowed in a democracy
resides essentially in the spontaneous confidence
of the people. He would have this or nothing.
And when the vote turned out disappointingly
smaU he frankly declared he would refuse the
office if by so doing another opportunity would
be afforded " the people to form and express -with
a nearer approach to unanimity the object of
their preference." His respect for the people
was as high as his own self-respect. Late in life
he said, " I have never sought pubUc trust ; but
public trust has always sought me. And when

THE PURITAN PRESIDENT 117
invested with it I have given my whole soul to
the performance of its duties."
No great measures marked the presidency of
John Quincy Adams, but was it not glorified by
his simple confidence in the higher principles of
election on the one hand, and his entire reliance
upon merit in all appointments to office on the
other ? Sturdily he kept to his determination to
retain every person his predecessor had placed
" against whom there was no complaint which
would warrant his removal." And for new ap
pointments he considered alone the fitness of the
men to serve their country, and not their party
affiliations. " It was magnificent," but as is often
enough said, it was not practical politics, and in-
-vited his defeat for a second term. His man
hood and his pure patriotism suffered no defeat,
whatever befeU officialdom. Ideal democracy
never had more superb exemplification. Would
that the country could have kept to that high
standard ! The subsequent debauchery of the
pubUc service by the spoUs system is a suffi
ciently costly warning that neither the people's
honesty nor their freedom wUl be preserved to
them until they return to the just principles of
President John Quincy Adams.
The sun of his poUtical life, as he records, was
now setting in the deepest gloom. He had
labored for the welfare of the nation, and not at
all for his own advancement. Honestly could he

118 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
write, " I have devoted my life and aU the fac
ulties of my soul to the Union, and to the im
provement, physical, moral, and intellectual of
my country." And what is his reward ? To be
flung aside contumeliously, and to see the smart
and the unscrupulous triumph over him ! He
returns to Quincy at the age of sixty-two, poor
in pocket, and solicitous that in the quiet of a
country town he may find something to do, so
that his " mind may not be left to corrode itseK."
Ungrateful and dull of soul the people who
permitted this ! Such words surge to the front,
expressive of heartfelt indignation. But the
people were neither ungrateful nor duU. They
were only hostile, in a growing combination
of them. The South, graduaUy consolidating
in defense of slavery, had discerned in John
Quincy Adams a spirit inimical to its institution.
Their prophetic soul had indeed found out their
great antagonist. As early as when he was
Secretary of State he had recorded in his diary
that " slavery is the great and foul stain upon
the North American Union." " Oh, if but one
man," he cries, " could arise with a genius capa
ble of comprehending, and an utterance capable
of communicating those eternal truths that be
long to this question, to lay bare in aU its -wicked
ness the outrage upon the goodness of God, —
human slavery ! " Little did he think then that
he was that man. But now, when his career

ADAMS MANSION

o o &<
6 <O

THE PURITAN PRESIDENT 119
seemed closed, and at the end of days, he was
called forth to battle with the giant wrong, and
wrought such deeds for justice against over
whelming numbers as no known congress or par
liament of men had ever witnessed. A crowded
Ufe, intense, vaUant, achie-ving, he had lived out
to what would, in the usual order of things, seem
a consummation. It proved to be but the intro
duction to the epoch of his career. The best
was to come.
The suggestion was made to him in 1830 that
he might be elected, if he -wished, to the national
House of Representatives from the ninth Massa
chusetts district, which included Quincy. Would
it degrade an ex-President to accept such a posi
tion ? Mr. Adams " had in that respect no
scruples whatever. No person could be degraded
by serving the people as a Representative in
Congress. Nor in my opinion would an ex-Pres
ident of the United States be degraded by serv
ing as a selectman of his town, if elected thereto
by the people." A few weeks later he received
a very flattering vote, and for sixteen years he
fiUed that office, making proud the hearts of the
residents of the district by his magnificent repre
sentation of their ideals of freedom.
It feU to him in the very beginning to present
a petition for the abolition of slavery in the Dis
trict of Columbia ; but it was not till 1835, when
the annexation of Texas began to be mooted.

120 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
that the slave question loomed large on the hori
zon, and he came to the front. He became the
vaUant defender of the right of petition, pre
sented more petitions, and the South blundered
in applying the " gag law." It was a grievous
assault upon our free institution. How the " old
man eloquent " defied it, and portrayed the ini
quity of it and the system it shielded ! His
parUamentary knowledge, his mercUess invective,
his quick intelligence, his grim composure, found
out aU the weak points in the array set against
him, and now stung them to madness, and now
held them at bay writhing impotently. " Num
bers could not overawe him," -writes Morse, " nor
loneUness dispirit him. He was probably the
most formidable fighter in debate of whom parUa
mentary records preserve the memory." For ten
years he endured the strain, almost alone at first,
and then gradually winning adherents, untU, on
December 3, 1844, a majority swept the tyran
nous rules from the House. " Blessed, forever
blessed, be the name of God ! " was his rever
ent acknowledgment. His work was now done.
Human strength could go no farther. His voice
was stUl heard for freedom, his clear mind could
still pass upon measures in debate, but there were
no more triumphs for him. On February 21,
1848, he rose as if to address the Speaker of the
House and immediately feU unconscious. He
was carried to the Speaker's room, and late in the

THE PURITAN PRESIDENT 121
afternoon, coming to himself for a moment, he
said distinctly, " This is the last of earth ; I am
content." On the evening of the 23d he passed
away. " I know few things in modern times,"
said Theodore Parker, " so grand as that old
man standing there in the House of Representa
tives, — the compeer of Washington ; a man who
had borne himself proudly in kings' courts, early
doing service in high places, where honor may
be won ; a man who had filled the highest office
in the nation's gift ; a President's son, himself a
President, standing there the champion of the
neediest, of the oppressed : the conquering cause
pleased others, him only the cause of the con
quered." His remains were removed to Quincy,
and there they lie with those of his wife in a
granite chamber adjoining the one in which
rests the dust of his parents. Imposing was the
gathering of statesmen, scholars, and neighbors
in the Stone Temple at the funeral. The exalted
emotions of the hour still throb in Whittier' s
stanzas : — '
" He rests with the immortals ; his journey has been long :
For him no wail of sorrow, but a paean full aud strong !
So well and bravely has he done the work he found to do,
To justice, freedom, duty, God, and man forever true.
" Strong to the end, a man of men, from out the strife he passed :
The grandest hour of all his life was that of earth the last.
Now 'midst his snowy hills of home to the grave they hear hira
down
The glory of his fourscore years resting on hira like a crown.''

vn
CHARLES FRANCIS ADAMS AND THE WAB FOR
THE UNION
" Another for Hector ! " The words of the
loyal old Highlander, and the answering rush of
his stout sons, one after another, to defend their
chief, come to mind as one thinks of the re
curring summons of America to her offspring
of the Adams race, and their prompt and effec
tive response, " Another for the Union ! " And
where John Quincy Adams fell at his post stands
Charles Francis Adams, resolute, vaUant, ade
quate. He is at the front when the press of foes
is perilous, and is as level to the emergency as
any of his kin. Our great minister to England
during the Civil War, what dangers he averted !
" None of our generals in the field," said
James Russell Lowell, " not Grant himself, did
us better or more trying service than he in his
forlorn outpost of London." Best of all, he
did it in the high, manly way organic in his
ancestors. He, too, was nobly Puritan, — that
is, he earnestly strove to shape his Ufe by the
most elevated moral ideals, and to labor as ever
in his great Taskmaster's eye. Not alone by

.y^

K^tTZMOJ .AAaA^

C. F. ADAMS AND THE WAR FOR THE UNION 123
his rare tact and judgment did he win battles,
but by his directness, his grand simplicity of
character, his clear reUance upon the highest
conceptions of justice and truth. In its cumula
tive power what an inspiration to the RepubUc is
the constancy of these Adamses, through three
or more generations of resolute obedience to the
moral ideal ! Does it not iUuminate the saving
element of our nation, now desperately, as in a
death struggle, arrayed against the black smother
of commercialism in trade and politics? Does
it not caU upon all the true-hearted in this pre
sent time to abate not a jot " of what makes
manhood dear " and the State beneficent ?
Charles Francis Adams was born, not in Quincy,
but in Boston, where his father was temporarily
practising law, representing his State in the na
tional Senate, and incidentaUy serving as Boyl
ston Professor of Rhetoric and Oratory at Har
vard. The date of his birth is August 18, 1807,
his two brothers, George Washington and John,
preceding him, though he long outlived them.
Scarce was he two years old when he was swept
into that world--wide errantry of his father, going
with him on his mission to Russia. His edu
cation there, as might be expected, fell into the
hands of his parents. The father spent many
hours a day at it, and read books of science just
to quaUfy himself to improve his child's under
standing. " To be profitable to my children,"

124 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
he humbly wrote, " seems to me to be within the
compass of my powers. To that let me bound
my wishes and my prayers." The mother ably
assisted him in all this. After they had left Rus
sia, after Mrs. Adams with her son had followed
her husband to Paris, entering the city two days
behind Napoleon swiftly speeding from Elba,
after two years spent in England, where Charles
at a boarding-school learns Latin and the Eng
lish character, after their return to America, we
read this entry in John Quincy Adams's diary :
" June 11, 1819. My wife has made a transla
tion of the first and second Alcibiades," from
the French. "She made it for the benefit of
her sons ; and I this morning finished the revisal
of it, in which I have made very little altera
tion. . . . The indissoluble union of moral
beauty and goodness, the indispensable duty
of seeking self-knowledge and self-improvement,
and the exalted doctrine which considers the
body as merely the mortal instrument of the
soul, and the soul alone as man, made a deep
impression on me. . . . The lessons of Soc
rates were lost upon Alcibiades ; they were not
entirely so upon me. . . . My conduct in Ufe
has been occasionally marked by the passions of
my nature, by the fraUty of my constitution, by
the weakness of my head and of my heart. But
it has always been my will, and generaUy my
endeavor, to discharge all my duties in life to

ABIGAIL BROOKS ADAMS

C. F. ADAMS AND THE WAR FOR THE UNION 125
God, to my feUow creatures, and to my own
soul. I wish my sons to read and to be pene
trated as deeply as I have been with the lessons
of the first Alcibiades." Thus was the founda
tion of the character of Charles Francis Adams
laid deep in the eternal elements. That training
made a diplomat who could not " lie abroad for
the good of his country." Inestimable, also, was
the influence exerted upon him by his grand
mother, AbigaU Adams. Immediately upon his
return to America in 1817 he was taken to
Quincy and remained for a time in her keeping.
An impressive experience was this, which never
faded from his memory.
After graduating from Harvard he spent a
short time at the White House -with his parents,
and then went back to Boston to study law
imder the majestic and deep-browed Webster.
He matured early ; and fitted, now, to enter
upon his career, he fortunately found a most
excellent wife. On September 5, 1829, he was
married in Medford, at the family residence, to
Abigail B. Brooks, the youngest chUd of Peter
Chardon Brooks, a noted Boston merchant. In
clear energy of soul she was, indeed, a second
AbigaU Adams. Queenly above most who adorn
thrones, vivacious, strongly individual in charac
ter, sympathetic, and of quick discernment, she
augmented every noble quaUty of her husband,
and was a wise and devoted mother to her chU-

126 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
dren. Again the Adams race is indebted to the
spindle side, in no smaU measure, for the steady
continuance and possible expansion of its physical
and mental vigor.
Overshadowed deeply was Charles F. Adams
at first by that astounding career of his father
in the national House of Representatives. And
behind " the old man eloquent " was the tower
ing presence of the supreme advocate of Inde
pendence. Surely it was no easy task for the
young man to live up to his name, made famous
by two such master spirits ! Furthermore, he
was modest and sensitive in a marked degree ;
so, to emerge from the shadow and develop
from his own main roots such surpassing flower
and fruitage is convincing evidence of his genu
ine abiUties and force of character. What was
in him of worth gradually began to show itself
through virUe articles in the magazines, through
fearless editorials in a pure-poUtics newspaper he
edited, and through five faithful years in the
State legislature. Independent as either of his
predecessors, he was, for an Adams, wonderfuUy
reposeful in his sustained strength. Indeed, he
was the first of his line to dispense with invec
tive, and to debate great matters in calm speech ;
nevertheless in the deep elements of his char
acter there is plainly discernible the familiar
ethical passion. It is visible in his contempt for
shams, in his reverence for justice, in his reU-

C. F. ADAMS AND THE WAR FOR THE UNION 127
ance upon " the laws of sublimer range, whose
home is the pure ether, whose origin is God
alone." NaturaUy he is with the " conscience "
Whigs when the Anti-slavery agitation begins to
stir the North, and is numbered with the few
choice spirits, Charles Sumner and the rest, who
were the nucleus of the RepubUcan party of
Massachusetts and perhaps of the country. Nomi
nated Vice-President by the Free-Soil party in
1848, his is the strength of its slogan, " Adams
and Liberty." Thus through the sifting for the
inevitable conflict he finds his way as if by di
vine appointment to the firing line at the open
ing of the mighty battle for the Union.
Fortunately for the nation he is there in Con
gress in the anxious days of 1860, aiding by his
constitutional lore and by his astuteness to hold
the government together in the perilous inter
regnum between Lincoln's election and inaugu
ration, when aU things were out of joint and
falling apart. Doubly fortunate is it that he
was there, conspicuously at the fore, when the
fittest man was urgently caUed for to fight the
battle of diplomacy at the Court of St. James.
As we now clearly see, he was the one man
adapted by temperament and training to be our
minister to England in that fearful crisis. He
knew England, — he got part of his education
there, — and from father and grandfather he had
early imbibed aU the inside facts of America's

128 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
relations with that nation. Then, also, as C. P.
Adams, the younger, points out, he was in his
solid quaUties Anglo-Saxon himself, and by these,
— self-control, high courage, frankness and fair
ness, — he won the esteem of Lord RusseU, -with
whom he had chiefly to do. An auspicious
equipment was this for a position most perU-
ously abounding in points of friction, and in
which it must be his one aim to prevent con
flict. At the outset the Confederate States had for
chief hope the practical aid and possible inter
vention of foreign powers, and their plan was
to " stand off " the Northern States just long
enough to enable Europe to render the decisive
verdict in their favor. As fate woidd have it
they had fallen upon the opportune moment.
Napoleon III. was then cherishing his exploita
tion of Mexico, and he welcomed, as an ally
from heaven, the threatened dissolution of the
Union. Hardly could he restrain himself from
hastening the process, but it seemed to him so
inevitable that he concluded to wait upon the
slower methods of England. And England in
her ruUng classes was against us. For two gen
erations officialdom and aristocracy, at every
mention of the United States, had been prophets
of evil. The event was justifying their vatici
nations, as they were glad to beUeve, — " the
great republican bubble in America had burst."

C. F. ADAMS AND THE WAR FOR THE UNION 129
Thus, all of Europe that dreaded democracy, or
was jealous of our growing commerce, or coveted
our lands, sympathized with the South, and that
sympathy was concentrated in London. It was
the storm centre. How appalUng was the situa
tion Mr. Adams was called upon to face ! Plain
enough was this made known to him upon the
very day he landed in England. With unfriendly
haste — as he was persuaded — the Palmerston-
RusseU administration, through a royal procla
mation, had accorded belligerent rights to the
Confederacy. "The intention of the govern
ment," says his son, Mr. Charles F. Adams,
" undoubtedly was that the question should be
disposed of — be an accomplished fact — in ad
vance of any protests." But he does not agree
-with his father and Secretary Seward that the
step was taken in an unfriendly spirit or that it
worked any real prejudice to the Union cause.
However intended, it was accepted by the Amer
ican minister as a portent of the stern character
of the struggle upon which he was entering. To
the same effect was the obtrusively cordial recep
tion extended to the agents of the Confederacy.
He found them estabUshed as favorites in the
most fashionable circles, and indulged in famUiar
intercourse by those in power.
Now began one of the most remarkable diplo
matic combats in history. It was Mr. Adams
against all England in her ruling classes, with a

130 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
few notable exceptions; against France in the
ambitions of her emperor ; against whoever and
whatever in Europe aligned itself in opposition
to the experiment of a people's government in
this western world. These various powers were
flushed with the hope of -victory. Gladstone
spoke for them when he said, " We may antici
pate with certainty the success of the Southern
States." Undaunted, Mr. Adams brought into
play his great knowledge of international laws,
and insisted upon the observance of strict neu
trality ; he met the intrigues of the Confederate
agents with direct and open protestation ; he
overcame any prejudice which may have been in
the mind of Lord RusseU by his manUness and
evident sincerity. At once his power began to
be felt. Mrs. Jefferson Davis has recorded that
" the astute and watchful ambassador from the
United States had thus far forestalled every
effort, and our commissioners were refused inter
views with her Majesty's ministers." This was
only a beginning. The strife over the iron-clads
was to come. MeanwhUe, in a social way, Mr.
Adams was holding his own. He was treated
with scant courtesy by the aristocracy, but as
his son Charles says, " when the Englishman was
cold and reserved Mr. Adams was a Uttle colder
and a little more reserved than the Englishman."
His wife marveled at his forbearance and pa
tience ; nevertheless she was his chief support

C. F. ADAMS AND THE WAR FOR THE UNION 131
throughout his arduous mission. "To her,"
writes Dr. WUUam Everett, a nephew, who knew
intimately her home life in those days, " to her
not less than to him are the thanks of all her
countrymen due for maintaining her country's
honor in the most trying circumstances of Eng
lish social life, where the aristocratic sentiment
was notoriously hostUe, with a combination of
generosity, playfulness, frankness, constancy,
culture, and dignity, which none but herself, per
haps, could have so thoroughly exhibited, to the
admiration of her new friends in England and
the profound satisfaction of all Americans."
That home life and the high character and tact
of Mr. and Mrs. Adams cemented the loyalty to
the Union of such men as Cobden, Bright, and
Forster, and thus was effective in no sUght meas
ure in averting in 1862 the recognition of the
Independence of the Confederacy.
Failing to " rush " the EngUsh government,
the subjects of " King Cotton " now bent all
their energies to create surreptitiously in England
a navy to harass the North. It was their last
chance ; the South pawned the family jewels to
raise the needed millions, and Mason, SUdell &
Co. toiled terribly through every subterranean
channel. Wherever their doings showed on the
surface they veiled them with the letter of the
law. The ablest solicitors aided them, and the
great resources of the shops and the shipyards

132 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
of the Lairds of Liverpool were at their disposal.
To defeat this enterprise Mr. Adams was per
sistent and unremitting in his efforts. In spite
of all his protestations the Florida and the Ala
bama stole to sea under a cloud of legal techni
calities. Lord Russell too late admitting that it
was a " scandal and reproach." " England must
eventually pay for this," was the warning of Mr.
Adams, and as ship after ship was destroyed by
the privateers, he set down the bUl of her in
debtedness. How Englishmen laughed in deri
sion ! But soberly enough they bowed to his
superior wisdom ten years later at Geneva, and
paid it to the last dollar.
Succeeding in this first venture, the Confeder
ate agents were stimulated to carry out the more
daring one of the iron-clads. Orders were placed
for the two double-turreted rams, which were
designed to break the blockade of the Southern
ports, and to terrorize the cities of the Northern
seaboard. Should this scheme prove triumphant
it would be a terrible menace to the Union.
" It is a matter of life and death to defeat it,"
wrote the Assistant Secretary of the Navy. " Of
all the insurgent menaces which lowered upon
us so thickly in September and October," -wrote
Seward, in November of 1862, " there is only
one that now gives us anxiety ; and that is the
invasion by iron-clad vessels, which are being
built for the insurgents by their sympathizers in

C. F. ADAMS AND THE WAR FOR THE UNION 133
England." And Jefferson Davis from an inside
-view declared they " would have swept from the
ocean the commerce of the United States, and
would have raised the blockade of at least some
of our ports."
Mr. Adams early discerned what was going
forward, — our consul at Liverpool was alert, —
and began anew his protests. Grimly Captain
Bulloch, one of the Confederate agents, survey
ing his great war-ships, comments that " the
passionate appeals and strong asseverations of
Mr. Adams are not surprising." His situation
was indeed trying. Neutrality laws, it is notori
ous, had been interpreted hitherto by the master
ful and -vigorous English most liberally in their
own interests. They had invented laws to justify
such a course, when even the " ancient and pre
scriptive usages of Great Britain," as Canning
phrased it, in the days of the Chesapeake affair,
did not go far enough. Now it was maintained,
among other things, that the " lucrative char
acter" of British ship-building was so encour
aging " that closer supervision of that industry
and the exercise of ' due diligence ' in restraint
of the construction of commerce-destroyers would
impose on neutrals a ' most burdensome, and,
indeed, most dangerous ' liability." In putting
forth such arguments the British government
felt safe ; no fear of the future was entertained,
for it cherished a perfect confidence in the

134 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
eventual triumph of the South. Recklessly the
Confederacy was given the advantage of every
doubt. Minister Adams had to make a thorough
study of every aspect of the laws bearing upon
the case, gather evidence of their infraction from
our consuls, from spies, from informers, sift it
carefully, and, repressing the outraged feelings
of a patriot, present his remonstrances in courte
ous, judicious, and convincing form. Yet after
all this ceaseless and intense labor, no more would
be effected than to draw from Lord RusseU a
note, saying there was not sufficient evidence
that the iron-clads were being buUt for the Con
federacy. Agent BiUloch, sheltered behind the
letter of the law, feels that his enterprise is se
cure, and that the law wiU have to be strained
to stop the war-vessels. But Mr. Adams is de
termined that if need be the laws shaU be strained.
The spirit of them, at the least, is with him.
Justice shall be done by their exact observance.
Gradually his indomitable activity and fearless
protestations press with such force upon the
government that they are compeUed to do some
thing. " We begin to feel the effects of Mr.
Adams's representations to Earl Russell," writes
Bulloch. Yes, and still more was he to feel
them ! So potent did they grow that a mock
sale is made of the iron-clads to a mythical agent
of the Egyptian Khedive. Desperately the South

C. F. ADAMS AND THE WAR FOR THE UNION 135
hopes under these colors to get the ships on the
blue seas. And, in fact, there is some likelihood
that one of them, nearly fitted out, wUl escape
as did the Alabama, on a "trial trip." Once
again, Mr. Adams firmly calls the attention of
Lord Russell to the notorious state of things,
and once again receives for answer the weary
array of reasons for letting the ships alone.
What now is to be done? On the level of
adroit diplomatic notes and solicitors' formaUties
absolutely nothing ! Higher ground than this
he had always taken, and now, with character
istic directness and daring, he briefly expresses
his regret at the conclusions of her Majesty's
government, declares it opens " to the insurgents
free Uberty in this kingdom to execute a pol
icy " of what they themselves described as the
widest pillage, and then penned the sentence
which since has become so famous, " It would
be superfluous in me to point out to your lord
ship that this is war." Deliberately the words
are written, but they seem to lift on " the dis
tant ground-swell of repressed passion." It was
enough. This bold and direct appeal to real
things was sufficient. There was acti-vity now
on the part of the British government. War
vessels were placed between the iron-clads and
the open sea, and they never left their berths
till they were added, by purchase, to the British
navy. Thereafter, to the end of the war, there

136 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
was no strain in the relations of the two coun
tries ; they were even cordial.
Mr. Adams was the Grant of dij)lomacy, and
this was his Appomattox. In the simplicity of
his methods and his character he won the day
for us. He did not palter in double speech, —
an official and a private. His art was grand in
its sincerity. " Give me," his father had -written,
reflectively viewing the duplicity of a certain
diplomatist, — " give me, in every station of Ufe
and every crisis of affairs, an open and a candid
mind." It was his son's prayer, too, and golden
rule of intercourse. Indeed, may it not be said
that the Adamses, in the three notable periods in
which they so illustriously served the nation at the
highest European courts, laid the foundation of
what is now recognized in its directness as dis
tinctly American diplomacy ? Talleyrand, in his
dealings with John Adams, sought to veU his
mendacity, after his kind, in diplomatic phrases,
insisting " on the form of civiUty and decorum,
from whieh in their relations with each other
governments should never depart." For such
forms and evasions bluff John Adams had an
utter abhorrence, and when he saw in Talleyrand
not only falsehood and bribery, but an enemy of
the United States, he struck him a blow so direct
and vital that he carried the pain of it to his
dying day. Bismarck has a name for candor.
He could be frank, brutaUy frank, when it served

C. F. ADAMS AND THE WAR FOR THE UNION 137
his turn ; but the Adamses were daringly and
unswervingly veracious. When they spoke, they
spoke as honest men, sound to the core. They
could be silent, but never sinuous. Their direct
ness was Uke a law of nature. And this candor
of the Puritan, so congruous with the new, simple
life of this nation of the common people, has
become organic. No heritage have we in the
artful circumlocutions of the Old World, and we
may fail at times in formal courtesy, but at least
we are understood. In the simplicity and truth
fulness of his diplomacy, may it not be said that
Secretary Hay in his dealings with China and
" the powers " continued, in a distinguished man
ner, the " grand style " of the " open and candid
mind " ?
Mr. Adams was not permitted to retire from
his post tiU May, 1868. Then England and
America united to extol his wisdom, judgment,
and character. It is all summed up in the verdict
rendered by J. W. Foster in his " Century of
American Diplomacy : " " No other minister of
the United States has ever passed through so
long a period of intense excitement and critical
responsibUity. He displayed diplomatic skUl of
the highest order, and a patriotic spirit unsur
passed by his fathers." He returned to Quincy
for weU earned repose, both Mrs. Adams and
himself mingling unostentatiously in the life of
the townspeople. From the enjoyment of this

138 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
relaxation he was summoned, in 1871, to under
take the crowning achievement of his laborious
days. As arbitrator on the part of the United
States in the Geneva tribunal, for the adjustment
of the Alabama Claims, his discretion and deep
sense of justice, it is not too much to say, were
paramount in harmonizing discordant elements,
and in securing the highly satisfactory indemnity.
As was then said of him, "he performed the
difficult duty with the impartiality of a jurist,
and the delicate honor of a gentleman."
Back once more in Quincy, the leisure at
last was his to expatiate on its serene deUghts.
Through roads and lanes he took his customary
walks and drives, respectfully greeted by neigh
bors, and reviving the memories of kindred and
friends, so richly associated with almost every
spot in the ancient town. At church of a Sun
day he was regularly seen, "through sunshine and
through cloudy weather," a reverent worshiper
in a liberal faith, as aU his fathers were. He
interested himself in the more important events
of the town ; gave sound advice to the graduates
of Adams Academy ; served as a director of the
Mount Wollaston Bank. For serious occupation
he could be satisfied with nothing less than the
editing of the twelve volumes of his father's
stupendous diary. In this ideal repose, accord
ing to the Puritan standard, Mrs. Adams par
ticipated. She, too, was always in her pew of a

C. F. ADAMS AND THE WAR FOR THE UNION 139
Sunday, and graced the part of " Lady Bounti
ful " of the town with rare sympathy and dis
cretion. For the distressed no appeal to her
was made in vain. She pUed her needle at the
" Fragment Society " as industriously as Aunt
Abby Whitney, its president ; and her words of
kindness and wisest counsel measurably strength
ened the moral and intellectual Ufe of the com
munity. So they passed the remainder of their
days, — in Quincy in summer, in Boston in win
ter, — always surrounded by friends, always in
terested in the U-ving present, always uplifted by
the love of their numerous children and grand
chUdren. Their golden wedding, celebrated at
this time, seemed but the accentuation of a har
vest season of life, glowing with a mild radiance,
rich in the returns of honorable service. Together
for so many years, they were not long parted by
death. Mr. Adams was gathered to his fathers
November 21, 1886, and Mrs. Adams followed
hUn June 6, 1889.
^uf us Choate, in the fierce political contest of
1848, when Charles F. Adams was put forward
by the conscience of the country as the Free-Soil
candidate for Vice-President, drew a laugh from
the groundlings by declaring that John Quincy
Adams was " the last of the Adamses." How
absolutely time and the event have confuted
the sneer of the briUiant partisan ! There
was another Adams. As destiny would have it,

140 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
Charles Francis Adams was the last of his gener
ation, but the last of his race, even at this late
day, who can foresee or -wish to presage? Up to
this moment it has surpassed, in the continuous
fame of its successive generations, that of any
other line of related statesmen in America. For
a paraUel to it we must go to the older civilization
of England. Illustrious were the Pitts for two
generations ; eminent the GrenvUles, with whom
they intermarried, for one generation more.
These are among the most celebrated instances
of " hereditary genius," but they do not go be
yond what is exhibited by the Adamses. Fa
mous have they been for three generations in a
direct Une, and still are they vigorous and poten
tial in the familiar ethical and intellectual way.
The late John Quincy Adams, eldest son to
Charles Francis Adams, was acknowledged by aU
who knew him, to rank high among the ablest
men of the country. Vigorous, clear-minded,
ruggedly direct, a leader of men in the force
ful elements of his character, he could have dis
tinguished himself in any great administiative
position ; had the task been his, might, indeed,
have piloted his State or the nation through
stormiest waters. A man of action, his destiny
seemed thwarted by a too delicate regard for the
public initiative, and an independence unyielding
to the seduction of political managers. What
ever the cause, the feeling was vridespread that

JOHN QUINCY ADAMS, 1833-94

C. F. ADAMS AND THE WAR FOR THE UNION 141
here was a man, richly endowed by nature, excel
ling in the practical wisdom of statecraft, whose
sagacity and character were urgently needed in
pubhc affairs, but who was left undisturbed al
most to prosecute his private concerns. To be
sure he represented Quincy in the State legisla
ture three years, was thrice nominated for gov
ernor, and once for Congress. Perversely it hap
pened that his views and principles, tenaciously
held, did not coincide with those of the major
ity of the voters. Late in life he was invited by
President Cleveland to serve as Secretary of the
Navy. This, one cannot help thinking, would
have proved congenial work, — fit, too, for a
descendant of that President who founded the
American navy. But his health and absorbing
private engagements would not permit. The rule
of his family, never to seek nor to refuse public
trust, was fated to be broken in this instance.
Seven sons and daughters were born to Mr. and
Mrs. Charles Francis Adams: Louisa Catherine,
who married Charles Kuhn ; John Quincy, who
married Fanny Cadwallader Crowninshield of
Boston ; Charles Francis, who married Mary
Ogden of New York ; Henry, who married Mi
riam Hooper ; Arthur, who died in childhood ;
Mary, who married Dr. Henry P. Quincy ; and
Brooks, who married Evelyn Davis, daughter of
Admiral Charles Henry Davis.
Charles Francis, the second son, has long been

142 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
held in high esteem for his vital interest in what
ever advances the community in which he lives,
and exalts the true welfare of the nation ; for his
outspoken and thoughtful judgments on great
public questions, and for the veracious and schol
arly quaUties of his historical and biographical
writings. He served in the Civil War -with dis
tinction, and was mustered out in 1865 with
the brevet rank of Brigadier- General. There
have been lieutenants in his famUy from the
beginning, and au unfaiUng spirit of miUtant
patriotism, but he " ranks " aU his kindred.
Nevertheless his civil achievements have been so
marked, and his leaning to arbitration's humaner
methods so decided, to say nothing of his aver
sion to titles, that the term " General " has never
cleaved to him.
At a critical time in the history of the Union
Pacific RaUway, when trustworthy administra
tion of that great corporation was imperatively
demanded, he was elected its president. Yet, no
matter how absorbing his business engagements,
appeals to his public spirit were seldom made in
vain. He accepted election as a member of the
Quincy School Committee, where his keen obser
vation soon brought him to the conclusion, some
time before expressed by Dr. Edward Everett
Hale, that if it were n't for the schools a chUd
would stand a chance of getting an education.
He revolutionized the prevailing methods, reen-

CHARLES FRANCIS ADAMS (The Younger)

C. F. ADAMS AND THE WAR FOR THE UNION 143
forcing Colonel Parker — the noted school su
perintendent, whom he discovered — in the work
of establishing the far-famed " Quincy system."
Liberal were his labors, also, for the Thomas
Crane Memorial Library. His intelligent and
hearty cooperation with the heirs of that son of
Quincy were chiefly instrumental in securing for
the town one of architect Richardson's gems.
In it is stored John Adams's library, and a large
and choice collection of books made in these
later years by public appropriations. And not
unrecognized by the citizens was the assistance
he lent to Dr. John A. Gordon, Theophilus King,
Mrs. Annie E. Faxon, and others of the VUlage
Improvement Society, in planting trees and erect
ing, in the Training Field Square, a magnificent
granite fountain.
He is the author of historical and biographical
writings of first-class Unportance: the "Three Epi
sodes of Massachusetts History," a "Biography
of Richard Henry Dana," a "History of Quincy,"
the "Life of Charles Francis Adams," his father,
"Lee at Appomattox and Other Papers," and
much besides. He is now chiefly engaged upon
the diary and letters of his father. As a member
for years of the Metropolitan Park Commission
he devoted much time to its wise plans. Not
least among the honors that have come to him,
and one entirely congenial, is that he is president
of the Massachusetts Historical Society.

144 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
Professor Henry Adams, now of Washington,
is author of a " History of the United States "
which is unsurpassed among the few really great
works of a similar character written by Ameri
cans. Beginning with the first administration
of Thomas Jefferson, it veraciously and clearly
tells the story of the early and rather uncouth
struggles of the new republic to "find itself "
in the wild seas vexed by the maelstrom of the
Napoleonic wars. Reading it, one wonders yet
again which is the greater, the man who does the
deed or he who immortalizes it " in prose or
rhyme." Certainly the " true grandeur " of Amer
ica he causes to shine when it was aU but invisi
ble, in the day that Napoleon contemptuously
flung out that the United States " has a sort of
existence," and England plundered our helpless
ness -with impunity. It was a time to try men's
souls. And in hardly another chapter of our
recorded history are the chief actors of the times
so infalUbly judged by their own words and
deeds. In its calmness and impartiaUty, its per
sonal confessions and documentary proofs, it
seems Uke a page from the Egyptian Book of the
Dead. With the austere presence of their Coun
try's Destiny bending over them, they teU, and
not another for them, of genuine deeds of valor
or deplorable evasions. Fortunate John Adams !
Though seldom mentioned in this work of his
descendant, his uncommon sense and deep prin-

CHARLES FRANCIS ADAMS, 2d

ABIGAIL ADAMS OF TO-DAY

C. F. ADAMS AND THE WAR FOR THE UNION 145
ciples are vindicated in their abiding and trans
forming power.
Brooks Adams, youngest of the sons, is also
distinguishing himself in literature. As from
time to time articles from his pen appear in the
magazines, -with their wide comprehension of
modern tendencies, one perceives the innate affin
ity of an Adams for pubUc affairs, and the prom
ise of yet other scholarly productions. So we come
to the latest born, Mary, the widow of Dr. Henry
P. Quincy of Dedham. At the end of days she
unites once more the two famous famUies, and is
the mother of the latest " Dorothy Q." This in
itself is a distinction.
In the total number of its eminent members a
pretty high average is this for any household.
The virile achievements and potentialities of the
Adamses are maintained at the same exalted level
taken when the line emerges into historical im
portance. Propitiously it stretches onward to
yet another generation, the fifth from the first
President, already adorned by a third Abigail
Adams, the daughter of the second John Quincy
Adams. Her brother, a third Charles Francis
Adams, began his career as the youthful but
efficient Mayor of Quincy. He is now the Treas
urer of Harvard University. Number -with these,
if you wiU, the promising offspring of the second
Charles Francis, and, verily, who can discern in
the distance where the line vanishes, or antici-

146 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
pate the ultimate service to the nation of an
Adams !
Quincy proudly rejoices in her share of the great
inheritance of ideal service and love of our land
which this remarkable family has bequeathed to
the United States. In a special degree, also, she
deems herself fortunate in the wise gifts she has
received from the Adamses. Shortly after the death
of the first Charles F. Adams his heirs paid out of
his estate the sum of $10,000 to establish a per
manent fund for the maintenance of worship in
the " Stone Temple," and a little later Charles F.
Adams, 2d, purchased and gave to Quincy the
large and beautiful tract of land since named
Merry-Mount Park. Contemplating these gifts,
and those given by John Adams and Dr. Wood
ward, the public Ubrary by the heirs of Thomas
Crane, the public park by Henry H. Faxon, and
the hospital by WilUam B. Rice, Quincy may
well deem herself fortunate among the cities of
this country.

VIII
THE COLONIAL COLONELS
With the youthful Edmund Quincy and his
¦wife Joanna his race, it may be said, took a new
start. He was the one man then on this soU
bearing the name of Quincy, and through whose
children it was to be transmitted to future gen
erations, and he was the first of his name to be
settled permanently in the home which was des
tined to become so famous as the habitation of
the long line of his descendants. That house,
the scene of these beginnings, and, with its later
additions, the setting of so much that was beauti-
fuUy valiant in the lives of his kindred, stands
there visibly testifying to veracious deeds thriU-
ing-with interest beyond the creations of romance.
It is almost of equal date with our New World
civilization, to whose marching music and songs
of triumph its very walls seem vibrant. Stately
it rises amid ancient ehns and dreamful scenes,
a pleasant and spacious example of the early
colonial mansion. Picturesque it surely is, and
humanly interesting, — " that seasoned life of
man," as Milton says of books, "preserved and
stored up in " it, — measurably above most his-

148 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
toric habitations. The original seat of one of
the most eminent and cultivated of our American
families, it has been for more than two centuries
the home of romance and wit, of beauty, of patri
otism, and of sublime daring. Statesmen, judges,
and captains of war were born in it, the " Dorothy
Q." of Holmes's poem first saw the Ught in it,
John Hancock's Dorothy blossomed to woman
hood in it, and Sir Harry Vane, quaint Judge
Sewall, Presidents John Adams and John Quincy
Adams, John Hancock, Benjamin FrankUn, Sir
Charles Henry Frankland, and many another
known to fame, have shared the unfailing hos
pitality of it. Any house in this new land of
ours built as early as 1636 by its very age is an
object of interest, however humble the genera
tions which fronted the mystery of life within its
four walls. In voluntarUy we muse upon the long
years through which it has been the scene of aU
that wins our praise or evokes our compassion in
the ordinary lot of enduring, -wistful man. But
this home of the Quincys sheltered inmates and
guests who were the first among Americans to
cherish visions of the emergence here of a noble
and puissant nation, and foremost among states
men to shape and establish it. In that atmos
phere of romance and valor which veils every
thing associated with the settlement of this coun
try and the beginnings of our great republic, it
looms grand beyond anything presented to the

THE COLONIAL COLONELS 149
Sight. LoweU writes of a house dear to him, it
gets " to my eye a shape from the souls that in
habited it." So aUke in clear thought and reso
lute daring were the master spirits who through
eventful years abode under this roof-tree that it
might well seem to be possessed of a personality,
continuous, ever-expanding, majestic.
" Old homes ! Old hearts ! Upon my soul forever
Their peace and gladness lie like tears and laughter;
Like love they touch me, through the years that sever,
With simple faith ; like friendship draw me after
The dreamy patience that is theirs forever."
Edmund, the son of Judith, the first man of
his famUy to be the head of this old home, was
a good type of the Quincys, and through his
masterful energy rose rapidly in the esteem of
his fellow-men. His was the quick intelUgence
and imcommon sense which have distinguished
his descendants in every generation. Already in
all social relations he is meriting that eulogium
pronounced upon him at the close of his life by
" Uncle Sewall," " A true New England man,
and one of our best friends." When widow
Joanna Hoar died he had been married about
thirteen years, and was blessed -with nine chil
dren. These continued to arrive with patriarchal
promptness every other year, almost, untU four
teen were born to him.
It was the age when the " Fruitful Vine " was
religiously commended, and the command to mul-

150 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
tiply and replenish the wilderness was conscien
tiously obeyed. The element of emulation, it is
surmised, was not lacking here. FamUies, for
the largeness of them, were extolled by preacher
and poet with manly frankness; profoundly
silent, however, were the three, or even four,
wives in their last resting places. Judge Sewall
writes of the " charming daughter " of Bridget
[Hoar] Usher that " her beauty and her fruitf ul
ness joined together render her very amiable."
Parson Flynt, the brother-in-law of Mr. Quincy,
had ten children ; Parson Fiske, his minister in
later Ufe, had sixteen ; Henry Neal, a neighbor,
had twenty-one ; and Deacon Bass, at his death
in 1694, had an offspring numbering 162 souls.
The modern American, fretted and frustrated
with the care of but one chUd, profoundly com
miserates them.
Mr. Quincy entered public life on that stage
which has afforded the earliest training for most
of New England's greatest statesmen, the to-wn
meeting. From 1670 onward for ten years or
more he is a member of the board of selectmen.
At the same time and later he is caUed to
other positions, until he is honored with about
every place of trust his fellow citizens have to
bestow. He represents the town in the General
Court, and he is made captain in the Suffolk
regiment, — the one military body of the colony,
— and finally Ueutenant-colonel. Thereafter for

THE COLONIAL COLONELS 151
a hundred years and more there is a " Colonel "
Quincy, preternatural in his longevity and con
tinuous activity. Only an expert antiquarian can
detect under the title from generation to gen
eration the individualities of the several Edmunds
and Josiahs and John. No Kentucky family can
show more colonels, or, in this matter of titles,
more judges.
Our primal colonel, Edmund, was also among
the foremost in the colony to effect adjustment
in the revolution of 1688, when the Stuarts were
forever banished from the throne of England.
As the chief citizen of Braintree, he represented
the town in this affair, and Andros, the Stuart
governor, being " bound in chains and cords and
put in a more secure place," he was elected
to serve as one of the Committee of Safety to
carry on the government tUl the charter of Wil
liam and Mary should be granted. Like aU the
Quincys in their generations, he is prominent in
church affairs. He assists in administering the
" prudentials " of the parish, and when it is pro
posed to buUd a new and larger meeting-house
farther away from the old centre of the town,
he is a leader of the opponents of the measure,
and calls a private gathering at his house, where
"they did agree among themselves to shingle
the old house, pretending to be at the whole
charge themselves." But none the less " several
pounds were afterwards gathered by a rate upon
the whole town."

152 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
In the midst of all this activity and prosperity
there falls upon him the shadow of a great be
reavement : Joanna, the wife of his youth, is
removed from him by the hand of death. " Mrs.
Joanna Quinsey," so runs the town record, " the
wife of Lieut. Edmund Quinsey, died the 16th
of May, 1680." She had been the heart and
soul of a large household, crowded with life.
Four of her children had died before her, but a
full measure of rejoicing feU to her on the glad
occasions when the home was thronged with
kindred and friends to celebrate the marriage of
Mary to Ephraim Savage, and Joanna to Daniel
Hobart, and Judith to the Rev. John Reyner,
and Elizabeth to the Rev. Daniel Gookin, and
Ruth to John Hunt. Later, in 1693, Experience
married William SavU, and out of the house in
1682 Daniel married Anna Shepard. The na
ture of these wedding festivities may be learned
from the account of Daniel's marriage (though it
had a sad ending) in Cambridge, -written in his
diary by Judge Sewall : —
" Cousin Daniel Quinsey Marries Mrs. Anna
Shepard Before John HuU, Esq. Sam'l Nowell,
Esq. and many Persons present, almost Cap
tain Brattle's great Hall full ; Capt. B. and Mrs.
Brattle there for two. Mr. WUlard began with
prayer. Mr. Thomas Shepard concluded ; as he
was Praying, Cousin Savage, Mother Hull, wife
and self came in. A good space after, when had

THE COLONIAL COLONELS 158
eaten Cake and drunk Wine and Beer plenti
fully, we were called into the Hall again to sing.
In singing time Mrs. Brattle goes out, being iU ;
Most of the Company go away, thinking it a
quahn or some Fit : But she grows worse, speaks
not a word, and so dies away in her chair, I
holding her feet (for she had slipfc down). At
length out of the Kitching we carry the chair, and
Her in it, into the wedding Hall ; and after a
while lay the Corpse of the dead Aunt in the
Bride-Bed ; So that now the strangeness and
horror of the thing filled the (just now) joyous
House with Ejulation ; The Bridegroom and
Bride lye at Mr. Airs, son-in-law to the deceased,
going away like Persons put to flight in Battel."
Great, no doubt, was the grief of Colonel Ed
mund Quincy over the death of his -wife, but it did
not prevent the speedy ending of his widowed
state. His household needed a head for its proper
governance, and so, with practical promptness,
seven months after the death of Joanna, he took
to -wife the widow Eliot, daughter of Major Daniel
Gookin. Three children were born to this union,
a son who died young, and Edmund and Mary.
His family thus continuing to enlarge, and his
affairs to prosper, he greatly improved his farm
and home lot. Trees were planted, the brook
was widened, a dam was built, and in 1685 a new
house was erected. Judge Sewall, under date of
March 22, 1685-6, enters in his diary, " Lodged

154 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
in the lower room of Unkle Quinsey's new house."
This was the house, which, up to about ten years
ago, stood a little to the south of the old mansion,
and was called " the farm house." It was not
any larger than the edifice built by Coddington,
but it could be used more exclusively by the
family. The old building was now given up to
the servants, and later to the negro slaves, Jo
seph and Tabitha, and Cippio and others, and to
Psyche, the Indian girl.
Colonel Quincy enjoyed for twelve years or
more the ampler accommodations of his estab
Ushment, and continued to dispense a hospitaUty
much resembling that of the squire of old Eng
land, and befitting the leading citizen of the town,
who was at the same time magistrate and a supe
rior officer in the militia of the Commonwealth.
A trifie irascible he grew as he waxed old, a fail
ing rather picturesque than repellent in one of
his dignified bearing, and quite comportable with
the habit of command acquired in the exercise of
the fastidious discipline of the training field. At
a town meeting in 1695, when that old question
of changing the location of the meeting-house
was again brought up, we " Voted Hon'rd Col.
Edmund Quinsey Moderat'r. His Hon'r -withdraw
ing homewards," however, silent striding, mas
sively indignant. The follo-wing March meeting
he appears as moderator for the last time. Then
in 1697 we hear of his utter breaking do-wn.

THE COLONIAL COLONELS 155
Judge SewaU writes in his diary under date of
October 4, " Unkle Quinsey grows exceeding
crazy." The strong man is brought low ; a few
months later, January 8, he passes away. "A
pious and godly man," is the comment of Mr.
Marshall, who watched with him. The meagre
town records struggle to express the magnitude
of the loss : " The worshipful and honored Colo
nel Edmand Quinsey, one of his Majesties Jus
tices of Peace, died January the seventh Anno
Dom. 1697-8, anno aetatis suae 70 aut Cariter."
No ordinary man keeps the records, as may be
surmised by the display of latinity. " Benjamin
Thompson, Physician and Schoole Maister," he
it was ; but he seems to have been wrong in his
figures, for both Marshall and SewaU write Jan
uary 8 as the date of the Colonel's death. " His
funeral took place four days later . . . and he
was decently buried — three foot companies and
one troop at his funeral." The pall-bearers
"had scarves," and Judge Sewall drove out from
Boston to be present, picking up Madam Dudley
on the way (was she reaUy walking from Mil
ton ?) who " seem'd to be glad of the In-vitation
and were mutuaUy refreshed by our Company."
Scarcely two years later his widow died. " She
was sick many weeks and underwent much sor
row and dolor; and after aU feU asleep quietly in
the Lord, and was with great solemnity interred
December 5, 1700." Judge SewaU again goes

156 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
out from Boston : " Cousin Edmund Quinsey in
vited us ; for I lodged there aU night." From
the house to the burying-ground is only half a
mile, but " because of the Porrige of snow, the
Bearers rid to the Grave, alighting a little before
they came there. Mourners, Cous. Edmund and
his Sister rid first ; then Mrs. Anna Quincy,
widow, behind Mr. Allen ; and Cousin Ruth
Hunt behind her husband."
The " Cousin " Edmund, who with his sister
follows his mother's remains as chief mourner,
is now the head of the Quincy household. He
is only about twenty years old, and in him, once
again, we have the sole remaining chUd upon
whom depends the continuance and promise of
the Quincy name. Of four sons born into the
family only Daniel and he lived to maturity.
This Daniel, the first-born son of Edmund
Quincy and Joanna Hoar, would not abide at
home where there were so many mouths to feed,
and turning his back upon rustic Ufe and peace
ful scenes ventured to Boston, where he set up
for himself as a goldsmith, the banker of those
days. He took this step, it would appear, im
mediately upon his marriage with Anna, or Han
nah, Shepard, and in the very year in which
Edmund was born. In 1689 they were blessed
with a son whom they named John. The father
died the following year. This John Quincy in
herited, through grandmother Shephard, in 1709,

THE COLONIAL COLONELS 157
the Mount WoUaston farm, and at once removed
to Braintree. Here he built him a house and
took to wife, in 1715, Elizabeth Norton, daughter
of the Rev. John Norton, of Hingham. He soon
approved himself a man of genuine power, won
the respect of his fellow townsmen and fellow
colonists, became one of the numerous " Col
onel Quincys " and " Esquires," moderator of
town meeting and Representative to the General
Court. As C. F. Adams, the younger, says, " He
filled almost every public office to which a native
born New Englander could, in the colonial days,
aspire. Colonel in the militia. Speaker of the
House, Member of the Council, he also nego
tiated Indian treaties, and in 1727 the remnant
of the Punkapog tribe, abused and defrauded,
petitioned that he might be appointed their
guardian. . . . Finally, in all positions he ap
proved himself a true friend to the interest and
prosperity of the province ; a zealous advocate
for, and vigorous defender of, its liberties and
privileges." Singularly enough scarcely a line of his writing
remains, his grave is unknown, and were it not
for the painstaking researches of Mr. Adams,
his public services would be yet awhile buried
in the obUvion of dry-as-dust documents, and he
himself almost forgotten. Fortunate is he, how
ever, in the perpetuation of his name. " When,
in 1792, the original town of Braintree was sub-

158 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
divided, the Rev. Anthony Wibird was requested
to give a name to the place. He refused to do
so ; a similar request was made to the Hon.
Richard Cranch, who recommended its being
called Quincy, in honor of Col. John Quincy."
In a yet more living way his name has been
transmitted to posterity. His only daughter was
married to the Rev. William Smith of the neigh
boring town of Weymouth, and it was AbigaU
Smith, a daughter of this couple, who married
John Adams. " In July, 1767, as old John
Quincy lay dying at Mount Wollaston, this grand
daughter of his gave birth to a son ; and when,
the next day, as was then the practice, the chUd
was baptized, its grandmother, who was present
at its birth, requested that it might be caUed
after her father, John Quincy Adams."
" Cousin " Edmund Quincy, whom we have left
all this time, was, according to his kind, rapidly
showing himself a man of worth and valor. The
first good deed he compassed, to his own last
ing advantage, was to marry the lovely Dorothy
Flynt, and make her the first " Dorothy Q."
in history, the mother of all the "Dorothy Q.'s"
who have demurely or stately, or both, ruled us
from the world of colonial romance. This Dor
othy was the daughter of the Rev. Josiah Flynt
of Dorchester and his wife Margery (Hoar)
Flynt. So, through a second channel, the sturdy
strength of the "tribe of Joanna" reenforces

THE COLONIAL COLONELS 159
the fine faculties of the Quincys, and through
a first channel the keen intellectual power of
Teacher Flynt, the heretical minister of the
Braintree church, fuses with all. Josiah Flynt,
the father of Dorothy, died 1680, aged thirty-
five. The widow and her two children, Dorothy
and Henry, soon afterward removed to Braintree,
and thus it happened that Edmund Quincy and
Dorothy Flynt, playmates through long happy
years, become lovers, and, early in Ufe, were
united in marriage. Edmund is only twenty at
this time, 1701 ; his mate is nearly three years
older. Truly, a youthful couple to take up the
dignities and responsibilities laid down by the
"Colonel" and his lady ! However, they quickly
approve themselves adequate to the high demands
made upon them. He inherited the houses and
home lot of his family, and, " more distinguished
than either his father or his grandfather ... he
passed nearly his whole life in the pubUc service."
Once more titles of honor manifest their affinity
to the Quincy name, and we have another Ed
mund, hardly to be distinguished in the matter
of titles from his father. He is a Captain and
then a Colonel, an Honorable Representative, a
Judge of the Superior Court of Judicature, and
higher things yet. " This great man," said his
pastor, the Rev. John Hancock, " was of a manly
Stature and Aspect, of a Strong Constitution and
of good Courage, fitted for any Business of Life,

160 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
to serve God, his King, and Country." It is
endeavored to differentiate him from the other
Edmunds by caUing him " Judge " Quincy, but
this might be done as effectually, and with war
rant too, by naming him " Precentor " Quincy.
On "May 26, 1723, Major Quincy was fairly
and clearly chosen by written votes to the office
of tuning the Psalm in our assemblies for public
worship." The title would be uncontested, —
other Quincys might claim distinction for tuning
town meetings and caucuses ; no one besides has
ever exhibited enough vocal talent to rival the
" Judge." To one whose " greatness is a-ripening " thus
early and rapidly, the estabUshment of his fathers
seems all too small. His family, also, is increas
ing at the pace set by the old " Colonel." So he
ventures to build him a more stately mansion,
one to meet the requirements of his chUdren's
children, and which should surpass everything in
the way of roof-tree that Braintree had yet seen.
And there it stands to-day nearly as he planned
it ! The old house of Coddington, erected in
1636, taken for her home by Judith Quincy when
she removed to the wilderness, was incorporated
in the new structure. That original buUding
in aU its lines is still to be discerned as plainly,
almost, as if the newer edifice, -with whicii it aUgns
and by which it is overtopped, were transparent.
The old roof, with its shingles, is half a story

JUDGE EDMUND QUINCY

THE COLONIAL COLONELS 161
beneath the later one, and the old windows and
clapboards are clearly distinguishable from those
of the more recent extension. A difference of
level, also, between the old and the newer floors
emphasizes the widely separate dates of origin.
John MarshaU, mason and man of all work, was
one of those employed in the erection of the
mansion, and in the jottings he made in his diary
we can almost see the building go up. " June
14, 1706. We raised Mr. Quinsey's house."
" July 29. I laid the foundation of Mr. Quin-
zey's chimnies." " Aug. 7. Coulouring the ped-
ements at Mr. Quinseys most part of the day."
" Sep. 3-7. Every day at Mr. Quinceys about
the arch." From the size of the chimneys and
the great stone arches upon which they rest, one
would imagine they were erected first, and then
that the house was built around them. But Mr.
MarshaU says first, that " we raised Mr. Quinsey's
house." And such a raising ! The beams are
of heaviest oak, and large must have been the
crew of men to lift them in place. It is likely
the entire male population made, of that pleasant
day of June, a holiday. When the new church
was raised, a few years later, " Bread, Cheese,
Rum, Sider, and Beer" were furnished freely.
As generously, no doubt, would Colonel Quincy
meet the expectations of his robust and thirsty
neighbors. The union of the new buUding with the old

162 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
was accomplished by no symphonic architectural
scheme, but by plain rule of thumb, and so,
ample spaces are provided for " secret chambers,"
for numerous closets of oddest shapes, for curi
ous ship-like lockers, and for simUar entrancing
conveniences, whoUy unknown to modern dwell
ings. Special attention, however, was given to
the construction of the buffet in the dining-room,
which is a veritable work of art. Hospitable
open fireplaces are in all the rooms, — those in
parlor and dining-room quaintly tiled, — and
liberal panels adorn the waUs of most of them
from floor to ceUing. Altogether the mansion
is an excellent example of the stately homes of
the colonial gentry.
In 1822 Miss EUza Susan Quincy made a
sketch of the mansion, which in that day was
just as it was when Colonel Quincy Uved in it.
A copy of this sketch she sent, many years after
ward, to Dr. 0. W. Holmes. His acknowledg
ment of it was conveyed in the foUowing words :
Mt deae Miss Quincy, — Accept my cordial thanks
for the sketch of the venerable mansion -where Dorothy Q.,
no-w looking down on her descendants from the canvas that
hangs in my parlor, once lived. It is a most grateful re
membrance of our relationship and of your kindness.
With warmest regards,
I am faithfully yours,
O. W. Holmes.
296 Beacon Street,
April 3, 1871.

OLDER QUINCY MANSION
Sketch by Miss Quincy, 1822

THE COLONIAL COLONELS 163
" Colonel " Quincy, thus comfortably housed
and delightfuUy -wived, is in a condition to enjoy
Ufe and pursue his ambitions. The clouds of
sorrow from the death of father and mother
have gradually dispersed. Judge Sewall refers
to all this in the jottings he makes of a jour
ney to Plymouth and back in March, 1711-12.
" Rained very hard, that went into a Barn
awhile. Baited at Bairsto's. Dined at Cush
ing's. Dried my coat and hat at both places.
By the time got to Braintry, the day and I were
in a manner spent, and I turned in to Cousin
Quinsey, where I had the pleasure to see God in
his Pro-vidence shining again upon the persons
and affairs of the FamUy after long distressing
sickness and Losses. Lodg'd in the chamber
next the Brooke." Whoever has lodged in that
chamber, the one in the northwest corner of the ^
second story, -wiU not be likely to forget the
brook, especially after a very hard rain. How
restful the soft flo-wing of it, how musical the
song of its faU, now rising, now dying away,
-with the wafting of the wind, and through all
its changes mingling with the daydreams that
melt into dreams of the night, and then vanish
ing as deep sleep faUs upon the tired frame !
The Judge could not fail to remember the
brook. Later another chamber, stUl nearer the brook,
was provided for the celebrated Tutor Flynt, in

164 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
the L which Colonel Quincy generously erected
for that gentleman's accommodation. He was
the only brother of Dame Dorothy, a predestined
bachelor, scholarly, original, and -widely famed
in the prosy New England of that day as a wit.
For over half a century he was a tutor at Har
vard. This retreat was provided for him in
Braintree, where he might rest from college du
ties and come under the thoughtful ministra
tions of his lo-ving sister. She bought clothing
for him, compounded for his illness a "sutle
physick," and otherwise tried to mitigate the
ineptitudes of " single blessedness." At times
he feU into what he describes as " a hypocondial
disorder ; " and on the floor of his study at the
mansion, tradition points out a depression worn
by him as he walked forward and back in black,
restless mood.
An event of the first importance soon conse
crated Cousin Quincy's new home. " Dorothy
Q.," "my Dorothy," as Dr. Holmes caUs her,
was born into it January 4, 1709. She was the
fourth child. Before her were born Edmund,
who married Elizabeth Wendell, and EUzabeth,
who married John Wendell ; a curious intermix
ture of names, but a felicitous union of two
noble households. So early were they married
that Dorothy was left at fifteen the main reU
ance of her mother in the multifarious duties of
an increasing domestic establishment. And very

THE COLONIAL COLONELS 165
exemplary was she, in a day when chUdren were
expected to be ideaUy pious, obedient, and in
dustrious. "My chUd," wrote her father, "you
are peculiarly favored among your friends in
these parts in having a good word spoken of
you, and good wishes made for you, by every
body." A hint of her domesticity comes down
to us in the tradition that she used to dry her
laces on the "formal box," — still flourishing,
the wayward growths of two centuries, — which
edged the trim flower garden. This ancient box
wood, and Dorothy's fondness for the garden
it bordered, reminds one of another queen, hap
less Mary Stuart of Scotland, who, as Dr. Brown
tells us, had at Holyrood her favorite "little
walk and its rows of boxwood, left to themselves
for three hundred years."
Dorothy, as she appears in the portrait which
Dr. Holmes has made famous, is the helpful and
affectionate girl of fifteen her father describes.
Willing, thoughtful, sympathetic, her nature in
vites the perplexed and needy, and aU the wealth
of it is lavished upon them. Grandmother Flynt,
growing old gracefully in this inclusive house
hold, would be a loved charge ; her mother's
cares she would divide, and nephews and nieces
she would pet and spoil with all her heart. Thus
engaged she was weU on her way to become that
tender, solicitous, supplemental pro-vidence, an
old maid aunt, when, at the age of twenty-nine.

166 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
she herself was taken possession of and loved
and protected by Edward Jackson, Esq., of Bos
ton. Their daughter Mary married Judge OUver
Wendell in 1762, and their daughter, in the next
generation, married the Rev. Abiel Holmes, father
of Oliver Wendell Holmes.
" What if a hundred years ago
Those close-shut Ups had answered No,
When forth the tremulous question came
That cost the maiden her Norman name ? "
It was a contingency not at aU improbable, —
just then. For it was not tUl a swift and tragic
series of events had stricken from her hand its
chief duties that she gave it to her lover. On
the 26th of July, 1737, grandmother Flynt, at
the good old age of ninety, passed away. Then,
suddenly, on the 29th day of the next month,
her mother expired. Her father, about this
time, was deeply engaged in making prepara
tions for a voyage to England, to defend before
the King the cause of Massachusetts in the
boundary dispute between that colony and New
Hampshire. This duty could not be deferred,
"being satisfied of the clearness of my call, I
dare not refuse the same," and -with the dolor of
bitter affliction burdening his heart he departed
for London, where he fell an easy victim to in
oculation for the smaU-pox. He was buried in
Bunhill Fields, where reposes the dust of Bun
yan ; and the General Court of Massachusetts

THE COLONIAL COLONELS 167
caused a monument to be erected to him as a last
ing memorial that " he departed the delight of
his own people, but of none more than the Sen
ate, who, as a testimony of their love and grati
tude have ordered this epitaph to be inscribed."
News traveled slowly in those days. Judge
Quincy died in February, but it was not until
about April that Boston and Braintree heard of
the catastrophe. On the 23d of that month
pubhc ser-vices were held in the new meeting
house on the training field. The Suffolk regi
ment was there, the judges, the Representatives,
the governor, and other provincial dignitaries.
From the mansion came the train of mourners,
the first of kin leading, — Edmund, and Eliza
beth, and Dorothy, and Josiah. The Rev. John
Hancock, father of the signer of the Declara
tion of Independence, is pastor, and preaches a
sermon upon " The Instability of Human Great
ness." The heart of the good man is heavily
oppressed -with the weight of woe that has fallen
upon dear friends and the community. Turning
to the mourners, and speaking to them in the
direct fashion peculiar to that age, he said, " I
must confess, my dear afflicted Friends, that the
Conduct of Divine Providence toward your Family
in the Course of the last year hath been uncommon
and unaccountable. The blessed God hath seen
meet to break you with Breach upon Breach,
first in the Death of your pious grandmother

168 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
Flynt in a good old age, and then in the sudden
Decease of your virtuous Mother. The Provi
dence of God hastened her reward of the pious
care of her aged Parent. For as soon as she
had committed her precious Remains to the
Dust, and set her House in Order, she finished
her Work, undresses and dies. AU this seem'd
to prepare the way for the Departure of your
honoured Father into our Mother Country in the
Public Service of this Province, when the time
of his Departure to a better World was at Hand ;
and there it seemed good in the sight of God to
put a Period to his useful Life."
Thus in a brief period an entire generation
was swept away. So complete and unexpected
was the calamity that the mansion, it would
seem, was left for a time -without a tenant.
Dorothy, to be sure, remained its mistress tiU
her marriage, about a year afterward. Who
then, if any one, kept the hearth-fire ablaze, it
is difficult to surmise. Edmund, the first-born,
to whom it was bequeathed, was living in Bos
ton, deep in mercantile affairs. Josiah, the other
son, had accompanied his father to England, and
afterwards visited that country and the continent
more than once. When he settled do-wn he mar
ried Hannah Sturgis, in 1733, and then he took
a house in Boston, on Washington Street, the
garden of which adjoined his brother's house,
which fronted on Summer Street. They and

THE COLONIAL COLONELS 169
brother-in-law Edward Jackson were partners in
commerce and ship-building. If much of their
business was as prosperous and exciting as one
adventure which history relates, it is not to be
wondered at that Braintree was neglected.
One of their ships, the BetbeU, voyaging from
the Mediterranean in 1748, at a time when Eng
land was at war with Spain, fell in at nightfall
with a vessel of greatly superior force flying the
Spanish colors. Escape was out of the ques
tion, and the captain, putting a bold face to a
bad business, summoned the enemy to surrender.
To enforce his demand with the best show, six
Quaker guns, which formed part of her arma
ment, were placed to look as formidable as the
fourteen good guns ; lanterns were hung in the
rigging, together with aU the hats and coats the
sailors' chests afforded. " The Spanish captain,"
writes Edmund Quincy in the " Life of Josiah
Quincy," " after some demur and parley, taking
the Bethell for an English sloop of war, struck
his colors, and gave up his ship without firing a
gun. His rage and that of his crew on discover
ing the stratagem to which they had fallen vic
tims, was infinite, but unavailing. The gallant
captain of the Bethell, Isaac Freeman, whose
name certainly deserves to be preserved, says in
his letter to his owners, ' At Daylight we had
the last of the Prisoners secured, who were ready
to hang themselves for submitting, when they

170 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
saw our Strength, having only fourteen Guns,
besides six wooden ones ; and you may easily
imagine we had Care and Trouble enough -with
them till they were landed at Fayal.' The Jesus
Maria and Joseph was a ' register ship,' bound
from Havana to Cadiz, with one hundred and
ten men and twenty-six guns ; while the BetheU
had but thirty-seven men and fourteen guns.
Her cargo consisted of one hundred and sixty-one
chests of silver, and two of gold, registered, be
sides cochineal and other valuable commodities.
The prize was brought safely into Boston, duly
condemned, and the proceeds distributed. My
great-aunt, Mrs. Hannah Storer, Mr. Quincy's
daughter, who died in 1826, at ninety, used to
describe the sensation this event caused in Bos
ton ; and how the chests of doubloons and doUars
were escorted through the streets, by saUors armed
with pistols and cutlasses, to her father's house,
at the corner of what is now Central Court and
Washington Street, where they were deposited in
the wine cellar, and guard mounted over them
by day and night while they remained there."
Braintree profited by this extraordinary piece
of good fortune. Josiah, though but forty years
old, retired from business, made his home in the
Hancock parsonage, and, Uke his father, became
colonel of the Suffolk regiment and active in
pubhc affairs. Naturally, also, his feUow towns
men, when in need of funds to meet the extraor-

THE COLONIAL COLONELS 171
dinary expenditures incident to the Revolution,
waited on " Colonel Quincy to know of him
whether he will lend the Town a sum of hard
money." Edmund, the elder brother, also retired to
Braintree, but not with flags flying. He was the
parson of aU the generations of the Quincys,
gentle, reflective, benevolent, and — unpractical.
His share of the prize money went into unfortu
nate business speculations, and he resorted to
the ancestral acres to recover himself by farming.
By this time nine children had been born to
him, the last of them Dorothy, — Hancock's
Dorothy, — who first saw the Ught in the Sum
mer Street home, May 10, 1747. It could not
have been long after this event — long enough,
however, to celebrate the marriage of his second
son, Henry, " the handsomest man in Boston,"
to Mary Salter, in 1749 — that he removed -with
his famUy into the old mansion of his birth. In
1753 he is appointed on a committee to divide
the Braintree lands ; later he serves as modera
tor of town meeting. He is called Squire, but
never Colonel, — the one man of his race, al
most, who has failed to receive this title.
AU of the Quincy name, -with the exception of
Henry, are once more in Braintree, their ances
tral town ; and interest in the mansion, the home
of their fathers, culminates. The Revolution
dawns, stormily red, its heroes appear upon the

172 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
scene, and the queenly Abigail Adams and the ro
mantic Dorothy are regnant in visions of light and
loveUness. Thronged seems the mansion with its
inmates and its guests, — young men and women,
vivacious, aspiring, a trifle formal (as was then
the vogue), but thoroughly human. Three sons
are at home : Edmund, who married Ann Hurst ;
Abraham, who was swept from the deck of a
sloop by its boom and drowned off Germantown ;
and Jacob, who married EUzabeth WiUiams.
There are five daughters, aU " remarkable for
their beauty," who, when they first enter the
mansion, are none of them engaged. Then across
the way, in the Hancock parsonage, are the three
sons of Josiah — Edmund, Samuel, and Josiah
— and his one daughter, the adorable Hannah.
Is it any wonder that the young men from the
other parts of the to-wn, and from Dorchester and
Boston, find much to interest them at Squire
Quincy's ? John Adams is a frequent visitor.
He writes of an evening spent here " with Mr.
Wibird (the minister) and cousin Zab (Rev. Zab-
diel Adams), when Mr. Quincy told a remarkable
instance of Mr. Benjamin Franklin's activity and
resolution to improve the products of his own
country." Drinking tea at the mansion, on one
occasion when he visited Braintree, FrankUn
commended the Rhenish grape, and offered to
supply cuttings, which he did, at some trouble to
himself, a few months later. But no one seri-

EDMUND QUINCY, 1703-

ELIZABETH (WENDELL) QUINCY

THE COLONIAL COLONELS 173
ously thinks that the strenuous young la-wyer,
John Adams, was reaUy attracted to the mansion
by minister Wibird, that " inanimate old bach
elor," as AbigaU Adams called him in stirring
Revolutionary days, or by Squire Quincy and his
talk upon farm products. As his diary reveals,
he was drawn there by the " pert and sprightly
Esther " and her sisters. But, however witching
Esther may be, " she thinks and reads much less
than Hannah Quincy " over in the parsonage ; so
to her he turns, and was in utmost peril of becom
ing engaged to her. The future President out
of the way. Dr. Bela Lincoln, a younger brother
of Major-General Benjamin Lincoln of Hingham,
-with more of heart, faces the peril, and is lost.
Then Jonathan Sewall, the intimate friend of
John Adams, " who called him his Jonathan, and
wished his own name had been David," succumbs
to the " pert " Esther. Gravely John Adams
sets it down in his diary that SewaU's " court
ship of Esther Quincy brought him to Braintree
commonly on Saturdays, where he remained tiU
Monday." As Samuel SewaU, about the same
time, was carrying on a courtship with Elizabeth,
and WiUiam Greenleaf with Sarah, a profane
curiosity is awakened as to the apportionment of
the remaining days of the week. Merry must
life have been in the old mansion at this time !
For every suitor who tiiumphed there were, most
Ukely, two or three others who aspired. These,

174 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
with other young people from neighbor Vassall's
and Brackett's and Savil's, and many a house
besides, must have flooded Squire Quincy's home
with life and laughter. Then, too, at this period,
and earlier, as tradition tells, there were joyous
parties from Boston, " our metropolis," graced,
some of them, with the knightly Sir Henry Frank-
land and his lovely Agnes Surriage,
" With far-off splendors of the Throne
And glimmerings from the Crown."
If " Agnes and the Knight " were of a merry
party trooping out from Boston in coaches and
on horseback, it may have been in the summer
of 1746, before she was made Lady Frankland,
and on the occasion when the heroes of Louis
burg, Admiral Peter Warren and General WU
liam Pepperell, were being feted. Squire Quincy
was then in good circumstances, and using the
mansion, it is surmised, for his summer home.
Later, on November 30, 1756, he writes from
iBraintree to Sir Harry excusing himself for
neglecting to congratulate him in person on his
remarkable rescue by Agnes from the ruins of
Lisbon at the time of the earthquake : " As ye
unhap. situation of my affairs has dep'd me of ye
satisfaction of long since waiting upon yourself
and lady & personally congratulating your safe
& happy return into this prov. after so remark
able a protection wh ye G't author & preserver
of all things was pleas'd to afford you at Lisbon,

THE COLONIAL COLONELS 175
on ye never to be forgotten 10th of Nov. last,
I hope yr goodness will excuse an epistolary ten
der of my sincerest compUments on ye pleasing
occasion." With the note he sends, in " testi
mony of my respect & gratitude ... a trifling
collection of some of ye fruits of ye season pro
duced on ye place of my birth." Were there
among them pears " from the tree in the Back
Garden " of which he writes in 1757, and which
is stUl to be seen, so says tradition, in the hoUow
and almost branchless trunk at the rear of the r/
mansion ? But whether or not Sir Harry and
the skipper's fair daughter ever made Squire
Quincy's routs more piquant by their presence,
¦wit and beauty thronged there.
" And judges grave, and colonels grand,
Fair dames and stately men,
The mighty people of the land,
The ' World ' of there and then."
And Dorothy, the youngest of the chUdren,
saw them all, and was, while young, petted by
them all, and in this stimulating atmosphere
grew up to womanhood. No wonder there is
discoverable in her temper a flavor of imperial
ism and a suspicion of the coquette. Judged by
any standard, she was not the least beautiful of
the five fair daughters of the mansion, and quite
early enough had her share of admirers. When
it was that she became the object of the serious
regard of any of them we have no means of

176 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
knowing. John Hancock, born in the parsonage
close by, some ten years before her, had been
adopted by his wealthy uncle of Boston, and was
an inmate of the Hancock mansion there. But
he was on intimate terms -with the Quincys, and
no doubt visited them frequently. He could not
faU to note the unfolding loveliness of the young
est of them, and, in his masterful fashion, early
to pay her the devotion of the ascendant lover.
Tradition says that the Revolution was afar off
and the mansion still her home when she and
Hancock plighted troth. Indeed, it is averred
that all plans were made to celebrate the wedding
in the home of her fathers. The large north
parlor was adorned with a new wall paper express
from Paris, and appropriately figured with the
forms of Venus and Cupid in blue, and pendant
wreaths of flowers in red. And there to this
day hangs the paper on the walls, unfading in its
antiquity ! But before the happy day arrived the
Revolution broke out, families were dispersed, and
in Boston and its neighborhood chaos reigned.
The Quincy family, in a measure, was di-vided
against itself. Squire Quincy was a fervent patriot,
and his children were as devoted as himself to
the cause of the colonies. Judge Jonathan Sewall,
his son-in-law, however, sided with the Crown, as
did Samuel Quincy, the son of his brother Josiah.
It was a sorrow which the brothers carried to
their graves. For our Edmund, the owner of

COL. JOSIAH QUINCY, 1709-S4

< 'u

a;

THE COLONIAL COLONELS 177
the mansion, there was at this time a yet deeper
sorrow in the death of his beloved wife, Elizabeth
WendeU. Sadly broken up and dispersed now is the
family which had filled the mansion with life
and merriment. Dorothy and her father are in
Boston during the memorable winter of 1774-5,
Madam Lydia Hancock exercising a loving guard
ianship over her nephew's betrothed. And when
Hancock — fearing arrest — finds refuge in the
Lexington parsonage where his father was born.
Madam Hancock, with Dorothy in charge, takes
coach and joins him there on the 18th of April.
Sam Adams is there also. At midnight they
are aroused by the s-wift summons of Paul Re
vere. The red-coats are coming ! Hancock and
Adams are induced to seek safety in Woburn ;
Dorothy and Madam Hancock remain under the
care of parson Clark. From the shelter of the
parsonage they witness the swift gathering of
the minute-men, the arrival of the regulars, their
murderous volleying, and the dispersion of the
colonists. Then, when the regulars resume then-
march for Concord, the ladies are hastily driven
to Woburn, where they are reunited to the pa
triots. From here Hancock accompanies the
ladies to Worcester ; thence continuing on, they
find a resting place in the home of Thaddeus
Burr in Fairfield, Connecticut. In this town, a
few months later, on August 28, 1775, John

178 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN j
Hancock and Dorothy Quincy are united in
marriage. Upon the evacuation of Boston by the British,
Edmund Quincy returned from Lancaster, where
he had found safety with his son-in-law. General
Greenleaf. Never again, however, did he make
his home in Braintree. His last days were spent
with his granddaughter, Mrs. Mary Donnison,
daughter of Henry Quincy, who Uved at the cor
ner of Washington and Winter stieets in Boston.
Josiah, the brother of Edmund, continued to
Uve in Braintree. In 1752 he entered into part
nership with General Palmer, and established the
first glass works in America on a peninsula in
Quincy, which, from a colony of Germans they
employed as workmen, received the name of Ger
mantown. This enterprise, together with some
spermaceti works, was terminated by the Revo
lutionary War. In 1755 he was appointed by
Governor Shirley on a commission with Thomas
PownaU to solicit the colony of Pennsylvania to
unite with Massachusetts in sending an expedi
tion to erect a fortress near Ticonderoga. While
at Philadelphia he formed a lasting friendship
with Benjamin Franklin, who, whenever he came
to Boston, always visited Colonel Quincy at
Braintree. The Hancock parsonage, which Josiah occupied
during bachelor Wibird's ministry, was destroyed
by fire in 1759, and in 1770 he built him the

SAMUEL QUINCY, THE TORY

THE COLONIAL COLONELS 179
later Quincy mansion, about a mile north of the
old mansion, on the three hundred acres left him
by his father. Here he lived during the whole
of the war, strong in his faith in his country, -wise
in his counsel to his fellow patriots and their
leaders. Sturdily he stood by his home, " though
the ladies of his family, at times of special danger,
would take refuge with Mrs. (John) Adams in
the modest farmhouse at the foot of Penn's HiU,
where Mr. Adams was born." On October 17,
1775, he had the satisfaction of seeing from an
upper -window the British sail out of the harbor,
" of which fact he made a record with his ring
on one of the panes of glass, yet extant." He
died March 3, 1784, in the seventy-fifth year of
his age, of a cold caught whUe sitting on a cake
of ice in the bitter winter weather watching for
wild ducks. He was the last of the " colonial
Colonels." He had three sons, whose early promise of great
abilities warranted the anticipation that the Quincy
name would be more firmly established and stiU
more highly exalted. But Edmund, a merchant,
enterprising, ingenious, and manly, died at the
age of thirty-five ; and Samuel, who rose to be
soUcitor-general of the province under the Crown,
became a violent loyalist, and went to England
at the evacuation of Boston. The third son,
Josiah Quincy, Jr., thus became the hope of the
family, the one upon whom the sorrowing old

180 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
Colonel centred his affections. It should be
noted, however, that Samuel did not pass into
oblivion nor did his descendants lose their affec
tion for America. He lived and died as crown
attorney for the island of Antigua, but his son
Samuel graduated from Harvard and practiced.
law at Lenox until his death in 1816. His son,
another Samuel, became a noted Bostonian. He
married Mary Hatch, and, after she passed away,
Abigail Adams Beale, neighbor to the Adamses
in Quincy. Eight children were born to him :
three by his second wife, — Abby, Josiah, and
Elizabeth, who married E. H. Mills Huntington.
Josiah Quincy, Jr., was born February 23,
1744. The rudiments of a classical education
he obtained in Braintree under the tuition of
Joseph Marsh, son of the minister, who also
had the honor of preparing John Adams for
his college career. Intimately were Josiah and
John and Samuel associated in their earUer days.
Together Samuel and John were admitted to
the Boston bar, and most dramatically were all
three connected in the tiial of Captain Preston
for the " Boston Massacre." Samuel opened
the case for the crown ; Josiah and John fol
lowed, pleading for the British officer. Colonel
Quincy, amazed, sternly rebuked Josiah for
undertaking the defense " of those criminals
charged with the murder of their fellow citi
zens." Memorable is his reply : " To inquire

JOSIAH QUINCY, JR.

THE COLONIAL COLONELS 181
my duty and do it is my sole aim." This Boston
Cicero, as John Adams called him, threw himself
with aU his pure ideals and fervent passions into
the patriots' cause, and from the beginning of
his career was freely admitted to the counsels of
his elders. " He was one of the first that said,
in plain terms, that an appeal to arms was inevi
table, and a separation from the mother countiy
the only security for the future." When the
relations between the colonies and the mother
country became more strained, and it was felt to
be important that some one should represent the
patriot party in England, he was the one to vol
unteer his ser-vices. Too zealously he performed
this duty, for he undermined a constitution not
at all robust. He set sail on his return voyage
in March, 1775, but, delayed by baffling winds, he
did not have strength enough to survive it. He
lay dying off Marblehead, praying, as he caught
sight of land, for one hour with his f eUow patriots,
Sam Adams and Joseph Warren. Well has he
been called " the Patriot," for he fell a martyr
to American liberty as truly as did any who sur
rendered their lives at Lexington or Bunker Hill.
" May the spirit of liberty rest upon him ! "
are the words with which Josiah Quincy, Jr.,
ended a sUght bequest of great books to his son.
That son, another Josiah, destined to surpass all
of his name in the length, and perhaps the mag
nitude, of his services to his country, was at the

182 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
time of his father's death Uttle more than a child.
He was born in Boston February 4, 1772. With
his mother he fled from Boston about the hour
when the battle of Lexington was raging, to take
refuge, under the guidance of WUUam PhilUps,
Mrs. Quincy's father, in the distant town of Nor
wich, Connecticut. It was here the mother heard
of the expected arrival of her husband at Glou
cester. Leaving her son with her father's people,
she hurried to meet him, and aU her glad antici
pations were submerged in the waves of sorrow
which met her. " She proceeded immediately to
Braintree to share her grief with the sorro-wing
household there. On arriving she found the
family scattered. An alarm of a boat attack had
caused the ladies to take refuge with Mrs. Adams
at the foot of Penn's Hill, whither Mrs. Quincy
went without delay, and received aU the consola
tion and support that sympathy, affection, and
friendship could afford."
The little Josiah — he was the third of the
name — was sent to Phillips Academy and to Har
vard, where he did not fail to distinguish him
self. Then he filled the measure of his mother's
happiness by settling down with her in Boston ;
a happiness which overflowed when he brought
home, in 1797, Eliza Susan Morton, his wife.
Thenceforward his advancement was as continu
ous as a " man of destiny." Volumes have been
written about the career and achievements of

PRESIDENT JOSIAH QUINCY

THE COLONIAL COLONELS 183
this statesman and orator, and volumes remain
to be written. A State senator ; a member of
Congress, attaining leadership of the Federal
party ; mayor of Boston for six years, earning
the title of " Great Mayor ; " president of Har
vard for sixteen years ; meanwhile writing his
history of Boston, of the Boston Athenaeum, of
Harvard, and biographies of his father and of
John Quincy Adams. Truly a busy life, yet a
serene one, " compacted of Roman and Puritan
virtues." His summers he spent in Quincy, and
there, on the first day of July, 1864, " as quietly
as an infant sinks to slumber he ceased to
breathe." His long and honorable life, begin
ning before the Revolution, almost outlasted the
war for the Union. In his latter days he visited
annuaUy the older Quincy mansion, the original
home of his race, and deUghted in all the great
memories it caUed up.
How full these Quincy homes are of patriotic
recollections ! In the mansion in which he passed
away. President Quincy entertained Lafayette and
frequently welcomed both Adamses, Daniel Web
ster, and other celebrated Americans. In 1812 the
watchers from its windows were thrown into a
state of excitement by the entrance into the har
bor of the old Constitution after her capture
of the Guerriere. A few days later the heroes,
Hull and Decatur, breakfasted at the mansion.
Josiah, the fourth of the name, then a chUd,

184 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
sat on Decatur's knee, playing with his dirk and
looking up into his handsome face.
In what perplexing profusion the Josiahs and
the Edmunds have been sprinkled by the Quincy
family over the pages of history ! This fourth
Josiah was one of the sons of President Quincy.
He was an important man in his day, — a typi
cal Bostonian, without whom no pubUc function
was quite complete, thrice mayor, a railroad man
with ideas of expansion in advance of his time,
and founder of the cooperative banks so help
ful to the workmen of Massachusetts. In his
later years he lived altogether in Quincy, a mem
ber of that delightful household which included
his three unmarried sisters, Eliza Susan, Abby
PhilUps, and Sophia M. How pleasant are the
reminiscences of the gracious hospitalities of that
home, with its old-time atmosphere, its anecdotes
of the great men of the past, and its commendation
of Jane Austen's " Emma " and similar books !
Another son of the president was Edmund,
who lived in Dedham. He was a strong anti-
slavery man, effectively assisting the cause by
his fearless and frequent editorials. Many -writ
ings besides flowed from his ready pen : " The
Haunted Adjutant, and other Stories," " Wens-
ley, and other Stories," etc. His son, Dr. Henry
Quincy of Dedham, recently passed away. The
married daughters of President Quincy are Mrs.
Robert Waterston and Mrs. B. D. Greene.

THE COLONIAL COLONELS 185
In the next generation the children of the
fourth Josiah are Josiah Phillips, Samuel M., and
Mrs. Benjamin Apthorp Gould. In Samuel was
re-vived once more the mUitary traditions of his
race and the title of " Colonel." With distinc
tion he served as colonel of the Second Massa
chusetts Regiment, suffered in the prisons of the
Confederacy, and when exchanged went once
more to the front at the head of a colored regi
ment. His brother, Josiah P., devoted to the
more peaceful ways of literature, but in it war
ring for truth, sociological and spiritual, is the
one of his family through whom the honored
name Josiah is passed on to still another gen
eration. His son Josiah, in these recent years
mayor of Boston, is the sixth of the name. Even
before his advent some one wittily said of the
Quincys that, whUe with other families the de
scent was from sire to son, in their case it was
from 'Siah to 'Siah. The obvious pun on the sur
name has also been perpetrated with a turn so
apposite as to lift it out of the commonplace.
The Rev. Mather Byles, long celebrated in Bos
ton as a wit, in his younger days, it is said, made
advances to a lady who refused his suit. After
wards she married a Quincy, and Dr. Byles meet
ing her remarked, " So, madam, it appears that
you prefer Quincy to Byles." "Yes," she repUed,
" for if there had been anything worse than bUes,
God would have afflicted Job -with them."

186 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
Now that this slight history of the Quincy
family has been brought down through its lead
ing members to the present time, it would be
well to return to the history of the old mansion
in which the race began its career in America,
and note briefly its occupants and owners since
it passed out of the hands of the Quincys.
The old house was aUenated in the days of
Squire Edmund. In 1755 he mortgaged it or
sold it to his brother-in-law, Edward Jackson,
styUng the home my " mansion house," and
estimating his land at about two hundred and
fifty acres. The transaction is effected for
" £675 lavrf ul money of Great Britain." After
this, for several years, as has been related, he
lived in the mansion. Upon the death of Ed
ward Jackson, in 1763, his executors definitively
parted with the property, selling it for £2400,
" la-wful money of the Province." The title is
now held for a short time by Mary AUeyne of
Milton, and by Benjamin Beale of Braintree,
and finally passes, February 19, 1788, into the
hands of Moses Black of Boston. It is then
that OUver Wendell and Mary (Jackson) Wen
dell, his wife, the heirs of Edward Jackson,
" release, remise and quitclaim," whatever in
terest in the estate remains to them.
Moses Black and his family were the first to
occupy the mansion permanently after it had
passed out of the possession of the Quincys.

JOSIAH QUINCY, MAYOR OF BOSTON, 1846-48

THE COLONIAL COLONELS 187
Once more the brook, or creek, has its name
changed, and thenceforward is known as "Black's
Creek." Mr. Black was a Protestant Irishman,
in his origins probably a Scotsman, and con
nected with that band of Scotch-Irish immi
grants who founded the Federal Street Church
in Boston (now ArUngton Street Church), made
famous subsequently by its greatest preacher. Dr.
Channing. His father, it is surmised, was the
" Capt. Samuel Black of Ireland," buried in Bos
ton's Old Granary Burying-Ground about 1749.
He had a brother named Andrew, a prosperous
shipping merchant of Boston, and father of
Anna, or Roxanna, Black, a celebrated beauty
in her day. An article in the Boston " Daily
Globe," by Alexander Corbett, Jr., states she
was married on January 6, 1793, to Joseph Blake,
Jr., a son of the former partner of her father.
It is likely she was a frequent visitor to Brain
tree (or that part of it incorporated as Quincy
in 1792), where her Uncle Moses was becoming
an honored citizen. He is appointed on im
portant committees, is chosen moderator of town
meetings, and is elected to the General Court.
On September 30, 1799, it was " voted that the
thanks of the town be returned President Adams
and Mr. Moses Black for the present to the town
of a clock in the meeting-house." He died in
1810, bequeathing $1000 each to Anna Black
Lamb and Mrs. Roxanna Blake, widow of Joseph

188 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
Blake, Jr., and all his real estate in Quincy to his
wife, " provided that if my said wife marry again,
then I give and devise one-half of said Quincy
real estate to Anna Hall." Thus provoked to
continue in her widowhood, she highly resolved
to receive into her home during the summer
months " the gentility of Boston." Her ghost
now walks the haUs and grounds of the old man
sion. Why hers above aU who ever lived there,
is beyond guessing, unless it be in anxious pur
suit of what " Boston gentUity," through those
long summer days, thought its due.
In 1825 Mrs. Black sold the entire place for
1 12,400 to Elizabeth Greenleaf, wife of Daniel
Greenleaf. Notable people were the Greenleafs
in the Quincy of that day. There was Daniel,
who occupied the mansion, and his sister Pris
cilla, the widow of John Appleton ; there was
John, the brother of Daniel, whose wife Lucy
was the daughter of Judge Richard Cranch,
and who occupied the ancient Cranch house on
School Street ; and there was Thomas, a cousin
of Daniel and John, who for fifty years lived
in a beautiful home on Adams Street. Highly
esteemed were they in aU the famUies of them :
related backward to Sheriff Greenleaf of Boston,
and the Cranches and Abigail Adams ; and for
ward to the Greenleafs, merchants of Boston,
to the Appletons, to true-hearted Harrison J.
Dawes, and others of that name.

JOSIAH QUINCY, MAYOR OF BOSTON, 1896-99

THE COLONIAL COLONELS 189
From the Greenleafs the mansion now passed
into the hands of Dr. Ebenezer Woodward,
whose wife was the youngest daughter of Thomas
Greenleaf. The old doctor, strong in his likes
and dislikes, thrifty and yet generous, individual,
indeed, as were most of the men of his day and
profession, cherished for chief purpose the re
dressing of the balance of educational opportu
nities in the town of Quincy. John Adams had
founded an academy for boys ; he would estab
lish one for girls. So in his wiU he bequeathed
his estate to this end, suggesting that the Insti
tute be built on a portion of his land opposite
the Hancock lot, on which the Adams Academy
stands. Some sixty thousand dollars or more
fell to the Woodward Institute, and there it
stands to-day, facing the older school and emu
lating its beneficent work.
It was during the thirty years or more the
town authorities held the estate in trust that it
was occupied by the Hon. Peter Butler. At first
a refuge in summer from the city's heat and
noise, it soon was made his permanent resi
dence. He loved the place for its idyllic beauty
and for its charming history. He saturated him
self with its traditions. AU its antiquities he
searched out and cherished, and every noble or
humorous story he enjoyed and related with
keen relish. Again, as in the old days, life
brimmed and flooded the mansion, the farm was

190 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
kept up, and the great barri stocked with a large
herd of fine cattle. Natural it seemed for Mr.
Butler, when released from affairs in the city and
public duties, to enter into the restful life " of a
sound and honest rustic Squire."
When the older part of the mansion was built
by WiUiam Coddington, his minister was the
Rev. John Wilson, pastor of Boston church, and
spiritual guide of aU who were taking up farms
in the region now included in the towns of
Quincy and Braintree. Two hundred and fifty
years afterward the minister of the church which
in 1639 succeeded Coddington's and Wheel
wright's Chapel of Ease, was also named WUson.
It is a coincidence which was glanced at when
the First Church of Christ in Quincy celebrated
its two hundred and fiftieth anniversary. There
is no kinship between the ministers, but it seemed
pleasant to look upon the fact as a finishing
touch to the cycle then completed. This latter-
day parson became occupant and owner of the
mansion, and, like all who have lived in it before
him, came to delight in its picturesqueness and
the wealth of its noble traditions. If, in this
story he has attempted to teU, he shall awaken
in others similar deUght in the great " Figures
of the Past," he will feel himself doubly favored
in the fortunate chance which brought him
under this famous roof-tree.

IX
DOROTHY Q. AND OTHER DOROTHYS
What a charm, what a flavor of old romance,
what a gleam of high-hearted ways and swift
conquests, there is for us in the name Dorothy !
Always cherished by Americans from the early
days of the first " Dorothy Q.," it has now be
come more than ever a choice title to bestow
upon those possibUities of aU perfection, " traU-
ing clouds of glory " as they come, who are to
unfold into the splendor of womanhood for which
our race is famed. Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes
certainly stimulated the love for the name by
his tuneful praise of the Dorothy who brought
him —
" Mother and sister and child and wife,
And joy and sorrow and death and life."
The revival, also, of interest in ancient days and
colonial dames, as certainly has deepened the
affection. But back of the name and the plea
sant sound of it, back of all that poets have
sung and historians have said of it, there must
be an entrancing ideal, a vision of worth and
loveliness, a haunting radiance, which dawns
upon the consciousness whenever the word Doro-

192 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
thy breaks upon eye or ear. Pew may clearly re
alize what affects them in the name, but were we
to make captive our fleeting impressions, should
we not discern a luminous presence, the compo
site of aU the Dorothys we have seen in picture
or read of in story? Is not this airy nothing
our dream of the fair American dame of other
days? Is it not woven of our conceptions of
the simple, modest graces of the Puritan maiden
and the stately presence, pompadour crowned,
which moved through Washington's court and
Hancock's levee, conquering and to conquer?
Now the one and now the other conception pre
dominates, and again they mingle, if that be
possible ; but through every winning transfor
mation one thing persists, an ideal of divinely
sweet and true womanhood, — Dorothea, gift of
God. The name appears early in our history. It
was brought by the first settlers from the yeo
man soil of England, with the daisy and the
apple blossom. In it there was enough of noble
association and musical sound to strengthen it
against the deluge of Hebrew names which
swept in with the Puritan reformation. Side by
side with PrisciUa and Abigail and Martha, it
held its own and swayed the hearts and homes
of our forefathers. Old Braintree, Massachu
setts, in that portion now called Quincy, is the
scene where the name rooted itself in vital bloom

DOROTHY Q. AND OTHER DOROTHYS 193
and perennial vigor. There "Dorothy Q;" of
Holmes's poem was born, there " Hancock's
Dorothy" grew to womanhood. Before these,
however, were others of their race, gracious and
-wise women, who honored this font name.
The great mother of all the famous New Eng
land Dorothys is Dorothy Flynt, daughter of the
Rev. Henry Flynt and his wife Margery (Hoar)
Flynt. Progenitors are these of some of the
most distinguished famiUes of America. The
Holmeses, the Wendells, the LoweUs, the Jack-
sons, the Quincys, the Adamses, the Salsburys,
and other historic persons make Ulustrious their
descent from the exceUent stock represented in
the worthy pastor and his -wife.
Henry Flynt was a young man of unusual
abUities when he was settled as teacher over the
First Church in Braintree, now Quincy. Mar
gery, "his beloved consort, . . . was a gentle
woman of piety, prudence, and peculiarly ac
complished for instructing young gentlewomen ;
many being sent to her from other towns, espe
cially from Boston. They descended from an
cient and good families in England." Indeed, the
mother of Margery was that Joanna Hoar, widow
of the sheriff of Gloucester, herself a gentle
woman of strong character, who was connected,
through the marriage of her son Leonard to
Bridget Lisle, with the fated Lady Alicia Lisle.
The Une of our Senator George F. Hoar proudly

194 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
looks to her for its origin ; and it " may fairly
be questioned," writes Mr. C. F. Adams in his
" Three Episodes of Massachusetts History,"
" whether in the whole wide field of American
genealogy there is any strain of blood more fruit
ful of distinguished men than that which issued
from the widow of the seventeenth-century sher
iff." " Distingmshed men ! " Are they alone to
be remembered ! " They reckon Ul who leave
me out," might Abigail Adams say, and many
another wise and loving lady of that celebrated
strain of blood. From the vridow Joanna, do-wn
through every generation since, they are to be
recognized, not only in the happiness of their
husbands and the nobleness of their children,
but in their own force of character and high
and faithful service.
Into this noble kinship and Ulustrious Une of
men and women Dorothy I. was born August
21, 1642. We know little more about this earU
est Dorothy except that she was married to the
worthy Samuel Shepperd, minister of Rowley,
Mass., on the 30th of April, 1666. There is,
however, testimony of some value to the affection
in which she was held by her brother Josiah, in
the fact of his naming after her his one daughter
who lived to maturity.
This Dorothy II. was born in Dorchester,
Mass., May 11, 1678. Her father, Josiah Flynt,
son of Henry Flynt, was minister of First Church

DOROTHY Q. AND OTHER DOROTHYS 195
in that town, and in the very year of his settle
ment, 1671, married, at Swansey, Esther, the
daughter of Captain Thomas WUlet, the first
mayor of New York. It was in Braintree, how
ever, that Dorothy was brought up, for her father
died when she was scarcely two years old, and her
mother, it seems, with her Uttle brood, removed
at once to the place of her husband's nativity.
There among his kindred she was sure of a
warm welcome. Perhaps she was asked to keep
house for Edmund Quincy in the old Quincy
mansion. His wife, Joanna (Hoar) Quincy, who
was sister to Margery (Hoar) Flynt, her hus
band's mother, had passed away the previous
May. Margery herself was stUl living, a gran-
dame of " faculty " for all her years ; and there
were uncles and aunts " too numerous to men
tion." Hearts and homes were invitingly open
to her, and here in old Braintree she lived and
died, attaining the full age of eighty-nine years.
Not large was her famUy, only Henry and Doro
thy sur-riving of the four children born to her,
and there would be little difficulty in bringing
them up in the midst of such hospitable sur
roundings. Dorothy would have for playmates,
as she blossomed into girlhood, the children of all
the famiUes of the better sort in the North Pre
cinct. Among them were the numerous offspring
of the Adamses, Basses, Savils, to say nothing of
the Quincys, now increased by the speedy second

196 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
marriage of Edmund to the Widow Gookin, seven
months after the death of his first wife. The Ut
tle Edmund Quincy, born in 1681, was her junior
by three years. Their pleasant neighborhood in
timacies ripened rapidly into affectionate relations,
and but a month beyond his twentieth year, on
November 20, 1701, they were united in mar
riage. Viewed from either side the match was a
felicitous one. The stiain of the virUe Hoar
family already had been united with the steadily
climbing virtues of the Quincy famUy, and now
the keen intellectual qualities of the Flynts were
to be intermingled through the beautiful Doro
thy. This first " Dorothy Q." is not born, but
made, — changed by marriage from Dorothy F.
to Dorothy Q. But no gift of seer is required
to discern in her, as source and origin of Doro
thys yet to be, illustrious prefigurement of the
" miracle of noble womanhood " which so richly
adorns her line. Lovelier than her name, as Ten
nyson says of flowers, we may deem her ; wise
and good most surely. And do not these qualities
of themselves, "an inner lamping Ught," im
part to the face of her who is simply one of the
fair sex a beauty quite beyond that of classical
outline and clearness of complexion ? She was
fitting helpmeet to a husband commanding in
presence and abUity. The first citizen of Brain
tree he, she the first lady. And when he, youth-

DOROTHY Q. AND OTHER DOROTHYS 197
ful stiU, had won by merit a distinguished place
in the colony, she shared and graced the distinc
tion. Her sisterly affection also is apparent in the
addition made to the Quincy mansion for the
convenience of her only brother, the facetious
Henry Flynt, tutor at Harvard for fifty-five
years. In a two-story L, study and chamber
were pro-rided for him, where he might rest from
coUege labors and come under her immediate
care. Her mother, too, found a home with her,
ending her days under that hospitable roof in
July, 1737.
A few weeks later, just as her husband was
about to start for England to defend the rights
of Massachusetts in the boundary dispute be
tween that colony and New Hampshire, Dorothy
herself suddenly passed away. " He intermarried
with Dorothy Flynt," runs the quaint obituary
in the " Weekly Journal " of that day, " whom
he buried the 29th of August last. God blessed
them -with ten children, four of whom survive in
great sorrow." These words are really from the
notice of his o-wn death, so soon did he join her in
the silent land. He took with him to England
the ache in his heart for the death of his be
loved Dorothy, " sweet and gracious woman "
that she was, and succumbed aU the more easUy
to inoculation for the smallpox, to which, as a
precautionary measure, he submitted. He was

198 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
buried in Bunhill Fields, where reposes the dust
of Bunyan, in February of that grievous year
1737-8, and on April 23, 1738, his pastor, John
Hancock, preached the funeral sermon. The
children were in front of him, seated in their
pew, or on the fore-seats in the old meeting
house; and looking sorrowfully upon them he
addressed them in words which, though spoken
more than one hundred and fifty years ago, stUl
quiver -with the agony of their burden. " The
blessed God hath seen meet to break you with
Breach upon Breach ; first in the death of your
pious Grandmother Flynt, in a good old age,
and then in the sudden death of your virtuous
mother." Dorothy IIL, the "Dorothy Q." of Dr. Hohnes's
poem, was one of the children over whom rolled
these sorrowful words. She was now some twen
ty-nine years old, having been born January 4,
1709. Here is the ancient form in which the
birth was set down in the town records : " Dora-
thy, ye Daughter of Edmund Quinsey, Esq', &
M" Dorathy, his wife, was born ye 4th January,
1709." This entry was included in a note sent
to Dr. Hohnes in 1889. In his reply he wrote,
" I was pleased to learn from your note that
'Dorothy Q.' — my Dorothy, not Governor Han
cock's, who was her niece — was born in 1709,
just a hundred years before I came into atmos
pheric existence." The large south chamber, it

DOROTHY Q. AND OTHER DOROTHYS 199
is conjectured, was the scene of this advent ; a
room with a sunny exposure, and since called the
" Dorothy." Uncongenial was the season chosen
to usher into the world the Uttle maid, and,
though the logs blazed high in the open fire
place night and day, the sun would prove a
most welcome aid to impart warmth and cheer.
Baptism soon should have foUowed birth accord
ing to the custom of that day, but Mistress
Quincy entertained the opinion, perhaps, that
the daughter of a minister " hath a privilege,"
and so would not commit her " wee DoUy " to
the rude blasts of winter and the deadly chUl
of the unheated church. But really there seems
to have been in the parents a confirmed habit of
procrastination with regard to this rite, for Doro
thy was not baptized till April 30, 1721, and then
were " Colonel Quinsey's famUy all baptized."
By this time she had expanded into promise
of ideal Puritan maidenhood, — " modest and
simple and sweet " as the Mayflower unfolds in
the shade of the forest. How peaceful her en-
-rironment ! that household so wisely ordered
and so industrious ! that companionship with the
brook and the shore, the flowers and the trees, all
so free, so natural ! Liberated from simple home
duties, easy is it to imagine her walking the
meadow paths, fed by her own pure fancies, up
lifted by thoughts selected among a thousand
by her own temperament, cherishing the aspira-

200 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
tions native to her own soul, and so educated
along individual lines into serious, self-reUant
womanhood. Abigail Adams, and many another
noble woman who might be named, grew up in
this fashion, leading us to wonder if the very
essence of education, of soul-forming, is not lost
in modern schools and colleges, where so Uttle
space is left for one's own thoughts and the pro
cesses of indi-ridual expansion.
Dorothy's existence was deUghtfuUy varied
now and then by visits to relatives in " Boston,
the metropolis of our country," as her father
called it. In these early years she even went as
far as Springfield ; and it is from letters written
her while there by her father that we get the
one authentic glimpse, which, with the famous
portrait, makes her real to us. One of the let
ters, preserved by Miss Eliza Susan Quincy, and
published in the " New England Historical and
Genealogical Register," is as foUows : —
Braentkek, July 8, 1724.
M^ DEAR Daughtbk, — This is to hring you the good
news of my- safe return home commencement day in the
evening, and finding your mother in good health.
With this you will have from your sister Betsey the
things you -wrote for by me, and from your brother Ed
mund a small present. My child, you are peculiarly fa
vored among your friends in these parts in ha-ving a good
word spoken of you, and good wishes made for you by
everybody ; let this hint be improved only to quicken and
encourage you in virtue and a good life.

DOROTHY Q. AND OTHER DOROTHYS 201
My love to all the family in which you are, with your
mother's and Grandmother's also, to them and you.
I am your dear and loving father, E. Quincy.
Half a yard of muslin being too little for two head
dresses, your sister has sent you one yard wanting half a
quarter, which cost ten and sixpence, — and the thread
(lace) cost fourteen shillings ; so much I paid for, and 't is
the best thread and muslin of the price.
In another of these letters written November
9, 1724, he writes : —
" Your sister Bettey will be married the 12th day of this
month (that is next Thursday night) if health permit.
" You may and ought to wish her joy and happiness in
the ne-w relation and condition she is entering into though
you are at a great distance from her. We make no wed
ding for her but only a small entertainment on Friday,
for a iew friends that may happen to be present. You 'U
hear the particulars perhaps from your brother Edmund or
Josiah after 't is over. Your mother has sent you the muslin
Pattern, Thread and needles, a Knott and girdle the Gown
and quilted coat are not sent at present your mother thinks
you may do without the go-wn and if you can possibly 't is
best that you may not have too great a pack of things to
bring back and besides we are apt to think 't is best you
should keep in and not expose yourself this -winter (though
you be better) lest you fall back again by catching cold.
Before Spring you may write further if need be for a sup
ply. The silk for Mrs. Hooker is also sent and the price is
1.3.10 being 7s. 4d. a yard you may acquaint her.
" Pray give my kind salutation to her and Mr. Hooker
with aU the family and your mother also my regards to Dr.
Porter and Mr. Whitman if you see him and he inquires
after me."

202 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
One more letter remains, as interesting as the
others in the light it throws upon Dorothy and
her kindred of those days. No part of it can be
omitted. Bbaiktbee, May 6th, 1725.
Deae Child, — Your mother and I were not so -willing
to have you leave us though for your o-wn good, but now
as desirous to see you here again were it for the best.
Accept this expression as from the best of your earthly
friends (your dear Parents) who think of you every day
and hope to hear of you oftener than of late.
The last of your letters I have yet received -was dated
March 6th.
I have -wrote since then once or twice but know not
whether they have come to your hand. I expect a letter
from you and Dr. Porter every day.
Your brother Edmund you have heard I suppose is
married and I hope very happily and that we shall have
joy and comfort in this double relation to Mr. Wendells
family. Brother Wendell and his wife from New York
was at the wedding and have since been at our house a few-
days and are returning in a short time home by the -way
of Rhode Island as they came. The new married couple
are yet at their uncles house but are to live -with brother
Wendell and his -wife and Miss MoUy Higginson is going
from hence to-morrow to live with them, and your mother
will be destitute of a companion and assistant again but I
hope wUl be provided for.
I am going on Monday next to Piscataqua to keep court
at Ipswich and York to be absent about a fortnight.
I am your loving father, Edmund Qutn-ct.
What a virid and charming picture of life in
the old homestead is outlined in these letters !

DOROTHY Q. AND OTHER DOROTHYS 203
And Dorothy, demure Dorothy, who is well
spoken of by every one, is so beloved by the
Hookers of Springfield that they would like to
keep her -with them forever ! Is she herself al
most flattered by their affection into staying?
However that may be, her parents long for her
-with a deeper longing, now that Edmund and
Bettey are married and away, and she is lured
back to her home. It is about this time that
the celebrated portrait of her was painted, as we
guess. The story of it as told by Dr. Holmes is
as follows : —
" The painting hung in the house of my
grandfather Oliver Wendell, which was occupied
by British officers before the evacuation of Bos
ton. One of these gentlemen amused himself by
stabbing poor Dorothy (the pictured one) as near
the right eye as his swordsmanship would serve
him to do it. The canvas was so decayed that
it became necessary to remount the painting, in
the process of doing which the hole made by the
rapier was lost sight of. I took some photo
graphs of the picture before it was transferred
to the new canvas."
" Grandmother's mother : her age, I guess.
Thirteen summers, or something less ;
Girlish bust, hut womanly air ;
Smooth, square forehead with uprolled hair ;
Lips that lover has never kissed ;
Taper fingers and slender wrist ;
Hanging sleeves of stifiE brocade ;
So they painted the little maid.

204 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
" On her hand a parrot green
Sits unmoving and broods serene.
Hold up the canvas full in view, —
Look ! there 's a rent the light shines through,
Dark with a century's fringe of dust, —
That was a Red-Coat's rapier-thrust !
Such is the tale the lady old,
Dorothy's daughter's daughter, told.
" Who the painter was none may tell, —
One whose best was not oyer well ;
Hard and dry, it must he confessed,
Flat as a rose that has long been pressed ;
Yet in her cheek the hues are bright,
Dainty colors of red and white,
And in her slender shape are seen
Hint and promise of stately mien.
" Look not on her with eyes of scorn, —
Dorothy Q. was a lady horn !
Ay ! since the galloping Normans came,
England's annals have known her name ;
And still to the three-hiUed rebel town
Dear is that ancient name's renown,
For many a civic wreath they won.
The youthful sire and the gray-haired son."
Soon after the publication of the poem Dr.
Holmes wrote a note to Miss EUza Susan Quincy,
in response to an appreciative one written by
her, in which he says, " I am very glad you were
pleased -with ' Dorothy Q.' I hope when her
portrait comes back with its wound healed and
its youth restored you wiU come and take a look
at it. I would send you one of my photographs
of the picture — if I could lay my hands on it —
with this note, but I have so lately moved to a

'DOROTHY Q."

DOROTHY Q. AND OTHER DOROTHYS 205
new house that I cannot at once find many
things I want. I wiU remember to hunt one
up for you, and if you do not get it within
four weeks I beg you wUl remind me of my
promise." Few are the events we now have to relate of
the damsel Dorothy. On Sunday, May 28, 1727,
she was received by her pastor, the Rev. John
Hancock, into full communion. She was then
eighteen years of age, a time when sincerity of
soul and faithfulness to visions of the ideal
awaken in the young aU noble aspirations and
moral audacities. The field for Dorothy's tri
umphs was not the wide world, nor " by the
shores of old romance," but only a Puritan home
with its plain duties. It was enough, however,
for the display of her patience and the unbla-
zoned heroisms of ordinary Ufe. She was now the
main reliance of her mother in the multifarious
duties of an increasing domestic estabUshment.
Her father was attaining to higher honors and a
wider fame, and a generous hospitaUty kept pace
with ampler means.
Indeed, the Quincy mansion, at about this
time the most pretentious and roomy house in
the town, was roof -tree for reunions of the widely
related family ; the shrine of domestic origins ;
the central hearth, in-riting frequent pilgrima-
gings of the dispersed Quincys and Flynts and
Hoars and SewaUs and Wendells and numerous

206 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
others. Then there were parties of squires and
dames on pleasure bent from Boston, and meet
ings of grave justices, and visits of dignified
colonial officials, to say nothing of the solemn
gatherings of parish committees to arrange the
" prudentials " of the church. To these things,
ordinary and extraordinary, Dorothy gave her
life, which may account for her delay in giving
her hand to Edward Jackson, Esq., of Boston.
She was twenty-nine years of age when she was
married to him on the 7th day of December,
1738. From the old home in Braintree she was
removed to a home of wealth and culture in
Boston. Here her daughter Mary was born,
who married Judge Oliver WendeU in 1762,
whose daughter Sarah married the Rev. Abiel
Hohnes, father of Oliver WendeU Holmes.
Along this Une descended the portrait of Doro
thy, and the silver teapot of Tutor Flynt, and
the poet.
« O Damsel Dorothy ! Dorothy Q. !
Strange is the gift that I owe to you ;
Such a gift as never a king
Save to daughter or son might hring, —
All my tenure of heart and hand,
All my title to house and land ;
Mother and sister and child and wife
And joy and sorrow and death and life !
" What if a hundred years ago
Those close-shut lips had answered No,
When forth the tremulous question came
That cost the maiden ber Norman name,

DOROTHY Q. AND OTHER DOROTHYS 207
And under the folds that look so still
The bodice swelled with the bosom's thrill ?
Should I be I, or would it he
One tenth another, to nine tenths me ?
" Soft is the breath of a maiden's Yes :
Not the light gossamer stirs with less ;
But never a cable that holds so fast
Through all the battles of wave and blast.
And never an echo of speech or song
That lives in the babbling air so long I
There were tones in the voice that whispered then
You may hear to-day iu a hundred men.
" O lady and lover, how faint and far
Your images hover, — and here we are,
Solid and stirring in flesh and bone, —
Edward's and Dorothy's — all their own, —
A goodly record for Time to show
Of a syllable spoken so long ago ! —
Shall I bless you, Dorothy, or forgive
For the tender whisper that bade me live ?
" It shall he a blessing, my little maid !
I will heal the stab of the Red-Coat's blade,
And freshen the gold of the tarnished frame,
And gild with a rhyme your household name ;
So you shall smUe on us brave and bright
As flrst you greeted the morning's light,
, And live untroubled by woes and fears
Through a second youth of a hundred years.''
The rest of her days Dorothy spent in Boston,
" our metropolis." There she is all but lost to
riew in the social whirl of a capital proud of its
royal governor and his court, and boastful of
its population numbering twelve thousand im
portant souls. Occasionally she emerges from
this dazzUng sea of light and becomes visible as

208 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
she visits her native Braintree ; but for the man
ner of her life and the events of it we are left to
the imagination. She passed away in her home
in Boston in 1762. But of these dames who
are more than queens we may proclaim, Dorothy
is dead ! Long live Dorothy !
Dorothy IV. is already on the throne. " Han
cock's Dorothy " is she, — "King Hancock," as
the loyalists called him in derision, — made king
now in reaUty by his aUiance to royalty. She
should have elected to be born in Braintree, now
Quincy, the home of her race, the place pre
appointed for the nativity of the great. It is
an oversight, from the effects of which Quincy
historians have never fully recovered. But her
parents, Edmund Quincy and EUzabeth (Wen
dell) Quincy, because there was no room for
them in the mansion, went immediately to Bos
ton upon their marriage, AprU 15, 1725. Here
they spent their honeymoon and many a moon,
no less romantic, besides; and so it perversely
came about that destiny was defeated and their
children first saw the light in the three-hUled
town. It was their intention, as father Quincy
wrote, "to live -with brother WendeU and his
wife " for a space, and this intention they very
likely carried out. Later, they secured a home
of their own on the south side of Summer Street.
Writing of this residence Miss Eliza Susan Quincy
says, " I know it was the residence of the elder

DOROTHY Q. AND OTHER DOROTHYS 209
brother of my great-grandfather from about
1740 to 1752." Here it was, then, that Han
cock's Dorothy was born. May 10, 1747, and she
was baptized May 17, " 1 w. old."
Do not imagine, however, that the parents of
Dorothy entirely deserted the old homestead in
Braintree. They went back there for many de
lightful family gatherings and some sad ones.
And when, in 1737-38, his parents suddenly
passed away, Edmimd Quincy, her brother, be
came heir to the mansion and the home farm
surrounding it. Affectionately bound was he
now to that home by a double bond, — that of
birth and mastership. He was deeply engaged
in mercantile enterprises in Boston, but he could
not be held back from the rural delights and
the uplifting associations of the ancient home
of himself and his race. Through those earlier,
prosperous years it was his summer home. It
was the custom even then among the well-to-do
to have their city and their country establish
ments. To Braintree he went for long, restful
months amid the glorious scenes of one of the
most beautiful towns on the shores of the bay.
Thither flocked at his in-ritation merry parties
from Boston, and we hear faint echoes of their
laughter as they disported themselves al fresco
about the well-kept grounds. Sir Henry Frank-
land, the romantic and poetic personage of that
day, was a friend of the family. He, with his

210 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGANJ
Agnes Surriage, that brilliant brunette, whose
face and form captivated him when he first saw
her, in rags and barefooted, scrubbing the floor
of the old inn in Marblehead, joined in these
excursions. What gleams of dainty gowns and
rich vestments, what picturesque groupings, what
drifting of sUver-footed nymphs, as of breeze-
blown petals, across the lawns ! From fine feast
ing under the trees they turn with merry chal
lenges to the brook to supply Dame Quincy's
larder with fish for yet another feast at set of
sun. Some of this splendor Dorothy saw, and part
of it she was. WhUe still a chUd, not over five
years old, the family removed to Braintree per
manently. From mercantUe ventures, which lat
terly had proved unfortunate, Mr. Quincy turned
to farming. It was " gentleman farming," fa
cilitated by a few exceUent theories, a kind not
unknown at this day ; and in the extravagance
of it he was assisted by Sir Henry Frankland,
who advises him to " propagate ye Warden pear
from Cyons," and by Benjamin FrankUn, who
presents him " a small pack'g of cuttings of the
smaU Rhenish grape." Tradition fastens upon
an ancient pear-tree still flourishing, and upon a
grapevine, improved away (aU but a single sUp)
about ten years ago, as growths of the identical
plants referred to. The farming did not pay,
could not be made to retrieve mercantile mis-

DOROTHY Q. AND OTHER DOROTHYS 211
chances, and in 1756 the estate was mortgaged
to brother-in-law Edward Jackson. But Doro
thy and her brothers and sisters (there were
eight of them all told) flourished on the farm, if
nothing else did.
Soon it dawned upon the glad eyes of the
young men of Braintree and Boston that Judge
Quincy's five daughters were rarely beautiful.
The fame of them spread through aU the coun
try round, and the praise of Dorothy was not
the least fervent. Like bees to flowers the beaux
gathered from near and far. Among them we
discern General WiUiam Greenleaf, John Adams,
Bela Lincoln, Samuel Sewall, and Jonathan Sew
all. Sarah speedily brought General Greenleaf
to her feet, and Samuel Sewall fell captive to
Elizabeth. The future President confesses the
power of Esther's " beauty, vivacity and spirit."
He circles ever nearer to her, like moth to can
dle-light, but flutters away before he is scorched,
leaving room for the advances of Jonathan Sew
all. Communing with the privacy of his diary,
John Adams concludes that Esther is " pert,
sprightly and gay, but thinks and reads much
less than Hannah Quincy," her cousin. Towards
Hannah his thoughts now turn, and he grows
very neighborly with her father, Josiah Quincy,
then li-ring in the Hancock parsonage across the
way. Beauty and bookishness ! ¦ — dainty teas
and talks upon Homer, Milton, and Venice Pre-

212 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
served ! — the combination is irresistible. "She
can practice the art of pleasing," he writes, " lets
us see a face of ridicule and spying, sometimes
inadvertently, though she looks familiarly and
pleasantly for the most part. She is apparently
frank but really reserved ; seemingly pleased and
almost charmed when she is really laughing with
contempt." Coquetting in this pretty way she
asks him such near questions as, supposing he
had a wife would he do thus and so ? " Should
you like to spend your evenings at home read
ing and conversing with your wife, rather than
spend them abroad in taverns or with other com
pany ? " His reply in its fine New England re
serve indicates the seriousness of the situation.
" I should prefer the company of an agreeable
wife to any other company, for the most part,
not always ; I should not like to be imprisoned
at home." More intimate they became when the
pert Esther and her sister Susan from the mansion
" broke in upon Hannah and me and interrupted
a conversation that would have terminated in a
courtship that would have terminated in a mar
riage which might have depressed me to absolute
poverty and obscurity to the end of my life. . . .
Now let me collect my thoughts," he heroicaUy
continues, " which have long been scattered
among girls, matrimony, hustling, chat, provi
sions, clothing. . . . Let love and vanity be ex
tinguished and the great passion of ambition.

DINING-ROOM, OLDER QUINCY MANSION

DOROTHY Q. AND OTHER DOROTHYS 213
patriotism, break out and burn." Alas for these
heroics ! In less than two years he is looking
¦with deep interest upon AbigaU, the daughter
of parson Smith of Weymouth, and is talking
to her his Homer and Milton and Venice Pre
served. Dorothy, an opening bud in this blooming
garden of girls, was now some thirteen summers
old. Her large eyes, we may weU believe, were
keenly observant of all this sweet commerce, and
her ears attentive to all the sprightly talk wafted
around her on the melodious element of youth
ful laughter. When it was that she herself be
came the object of the serious regard of admirers
we have no means of kno-wing. They were
numerous enough before John Hancock finally
swept them to a proper distance by his imperial
claims, supported as they were by the vigilance
of his aunt. Madam Lydia Hancock. He was
her senior by ten years, — had graduated from
Harvard and had been adopted into the famUy
of his rich uncle, Thomas Hancock, in Boston,
before she had outgrown her girlhood. How
ever, he would frequently return to Braintree,
where he was born, and could not faU to note
the unfolding loveUness of Dorothy. Did he
avow his affection for her whUe yet the tumult
of the Revolution was afar off and her home
was in the old mansion ? Tradition says "Yes,"
and further avers that not only was the troth

214 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
plighted there, but that all plans were made to
celebrate the wedding in the home of her fathers.
The large north parlor was adorned with a new
wall paper express from Paris, and appropriately
figured with the forms of Venus and Cupid in
blue, and pendent wreaths of flowers in red.
Does any one doubt the tradition ? There on
the wall hangs the paper to this day, unfading
in its antiquity and mutely confounding the in
credulous. But it was not destined to contribute its har
monious decorations to the joyous event. Before
the happy day arrived the resistance of the
high-spirited colonists to the oppressive measures
of a wiUful king and " his friends " had burst
forth in sulphurous flames. There was the swift,
resolute muster of a new-born nation, and the
scene of it was chaotic in the abrupt dispersion
of long established domesticities. Not in Bos
ton, nor Braintree, nor Lexington, nor in the
tier of towns behind them was to be found an
abiding-place safe from the British ; and so while
Judge Quincy sought sanctuary in Lancaster, in
the home of his daughter Mrs. Greenleaf, Doro
thy, under the protection of Madam Hancock,
fled to Fairfield, Connecticut. There the wed
ding was celebrated at last -with due pomp and
hilarity. It is in the lurid light of those heroic days
that Dorothy first comes into clear view. All

DOROTHY Q. AND OTHER DOROTHYS 215
through the memorable winter of 1774-75 we
perceive she is in Boston, at the very heart of
convergent patriotic fervor. A frequent guest
in the stately Hancock mansion, she hears Earl
Percy's voice as he drills the regulars on the
common for the inevitable conflict, and in that
home and in her own she is in daily communion
with the valiant defenders of Uberty, — Dr. War
ren, John Adams, Paul Revere, her cousin Josiah
Quincy, Jr., that Boston Cicero, Sam Adams,
and many another, to say nothing of patriotic
dames as numerous and daring. In the wild
tide of things heart answers to heart. They are
not to be subdued by the aggressive presence
and daily insolence of the thousands of British
troops, nor turned back by the abyss yawning to
engulf ancient loyalties, loved homes, and a long
established peace.
The mansion of " King Hancock," in the early
days of March, is subjected to acts of vandalism
by the soldiery ; its windows broken, its fences
hewn, its coach house wrecked. The " King "
himself, threatened with arrest, escapes secretly
into the country to be at the second meeting of
the Provincial Congress at Concord. This assem
bly adjourns April 15th, and he finds what he
conceives to be a safe retreat in the parsonage
at Lexington, where his father had been born,
and where he himself had spent many of the
long bright days of youth. Here soon arrives

216 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
Madam Lydia Hancock, anxious and harassed,
driving out from the abandoned Boston mansion
in a coach with that jealously guarded treasure,
Dorothy Quincy. " Citizen " Adams is there also,
a welcome guest under the hospitable roof of
the Rev. Jonas Clark. At twelve o'clock on the
night of the eighteenth, said Dorothy in later
years, Paul Revere gallops up to the door with
his startling cry of the approach of General
Gage's troops. The village takes the alarm, the
church bell clangs its -wild tocsin, Ughts flash
in house after house far away into the distant
darkness, and swiftly the minute-men gather on
the green. John Hancock, alert at the first
summons, flames hot with the rage of fight.
Hardly is he dissuaded from standing with the
stout farmers and facing the battalions of the
regulars. Brought at last to reaUze that it is he
himself and Sam Adams that the British would
count no cost too great to capture, he aUows
himself to be hurried with his companion inland
to the Woburn Precinct (now BurUngton). The
ladies remain under the protection of the parson.
Within the shelter of his weU buUt home they
furtively watch, with no little peril to them
selves, the momentous clash of Old World veter
ans and homespun colonials. Then, when the
voUeying has died away and the regulars are
on the march for Concord, Madam Hancock and
Dorothy turn from the horrors of the battle-

DOROTHY Q. AND OTHER DOROTHYS 217
field, take coach, and are reunited to the pa
triots in Woburn.
Not entirely to Dorothy's mind, however, is
this assumption of the exclusive custody of her
self by the astute Madam Hancock and her
nephew. She has a natural longing, also, to be
with her own people. Her mother was dead,
but she had left her father in Boston ; and to
him she declared she would return on the mor
row. " No, madam," said Hancock, " you shaU
not return as long as there is a British bayonet
left in Boston." " Recollect, Mr. Hancock," re
torted Dorothy, " I am not under your control
yet. I shall go to my father to-morrow." And
very glad she would have been, as she confessed
late in life, to have got rid of him, then and
there. The awakened waywardness of a maiden
before whom the incense of fine compliments
was continuously wafted by a host of admirers
was with difficulty restrained by Madam Han
cock, and then they proceeded on their retreat
to Fairfield. The course of this retreat, after
leaving Woburn, is outlined in a letter written
from Lancaster by Edmund Quincy, May 11, to
his son Henry. " I was from noon Sat'y till
Friday eve'g getting up hither with much diffi
culty by reason of scarcity of carriages. Cost
me near 20 <£s, besides quartering on some of
my good friends who were very kind and gen
erous. Y'r sister Dolly with Mrs. Hancock

218 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
came from Shirley to y'r Bro. Grenleeaf's &
dined & proceeded to Worcester, where CoFo
H. & Mr. A(dams) were on their way. This
was 10 days before I got hither, so that I missed
seeing them. As 1 hear she proceeded -with Mr.
H. to Fayerfield, I don't expect to see her tUl
peaceable times are restored."
The home in Fairfield where the ladies now
took up their abode was that of Thaddeus Burr,
Esq., and it was not long after their arrival that
there rode into town the fascinating Aaron Burr,
his nephew, then a young man of twenty-nine,
in the full pride of life. It is not to be won
dered at that Dorothy in her present mood, and
too carefuUy protected by duenna Hancock,
should graduaUy permit herself to become more
warmly interested in the brave bearing and gal
lant attentions of the exquisite Aaron Burr than
was entirely compatible with her relations to
Hancock. A bit of local coloring is thrown upon this
episode by a letter, written some time later, by
the sprightly Dorothy Dudley, of Cambridge, to
her friend Esther Livingston, in Philadelphia.
Hancock, then united to his Dorothy, is in attend
ance upon the Continental Congress. " So you
have seen Mrs. Hancock ! " she writes. " Is she
not charming ! One cannot wonder at Madam
Lydia Hancock's fondness for her, and resolve
to secure the treasure for her nephew. You have

DOROTHY Q. AND OTHER DOROTHYS 219
heard how carefully she guarded her against the
approach of any invader upon Mr. John Hancock's
rights. I visited Lexington the other day and trod
the ground so lately wet with the blood of our
noble minute-men ; went into Mr. Clarke's house,
where ' King' Hancock and ' Citizen ' Adams were
lodged that memorable night before the battle,
and walked under the tiee which I am told shel
tered them during part of that time of terror. I
saw the bullet in the wall of the attic chamber
where the family were hid at the time, and where
Madam Hancock very narrowly escaped death, a
ball grazing her cheek as it passed. After the
battle Mr. Hancock, who had his coach and four
at hand, left the town, accompanied by his Aunt
Lydia and Miss Dorothy Quincy, and rode to one
of the neighboring -riUages, and from there by
slow stage to Fairfield, Connecticut. . . . Aaron
Burr is a young man of fascinating manners and
many accomplishments. He was much charmed
¦with Miss Quincy, I have heard, and she in turn
was not insensible to his attentions ; but Madam
Hancock kept a jealous eye upon them both, and
would not allow any advances upon the part of
the young man toward the prize reserved for her
nephew. When the knot was tied that made
them one, she felt at liberty to breathe. Imme
diately after the wedding they set out for Phila
delphia, which has been their home ever since."
The record of this notable event in the clerk's

220 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
book of the Fairfield church is as foUows : " The
Hon. John Hancock Esqr. and Miss Dorothy
Quincy, both of Boston were married at Fair
field, Aug. 28th, 1775."
For about four months previous to the marriage
Dorothy was almost daily in the company of Beau
Burr. There is Uttle doubt it was a perUous time
for the peace of mind of John Haneock. That
opulent but formal gentleman at a distance was
scarce a match for the most dashing gaUant of
his age insistently present. " A handsome young
man of very pretty fortune " is the way Dorothy
spoke of him in later reminiscent mood. More
lively is the description of him by Dorothy Dudley
written in her diary when he had just arrived in
Cambridge camp from his Fairfield campaign,
Aug. 1, 1775 : " There is a young man in camp
whom I have noticed again and again as he
passes the house. He is striking in appearance,
though quite smaU and boyish. His eyes are
piercing in their brightness, and there is some
thing winning in his manner. His name is Aaron
Burr, a son of Rev. Aaron Burr, formerly Presi
dent of Princeton College, N. J., and grandson
of Rev. Jonathan Edwards."
For a young woman of Dorothy's temperament
here was a situation portentous of much, as Cai^
lyle would say. It may be written of her what
Thomas Hardy writes of one of his characters :
" She had a spirit with a natural love of liberty,

DOROTHY Q. AND OTHER DOROTHYS 221
and required the next thing to liberty, spacious
ness." Was there promise of this in the manner
she had been treated of late as a captured person,
a possession ? A rumor has descended to these
times that Madam Hancock feared an elopement.
But what would you ? Was not independence
in the air? And Dorothy, high-spirited, way
ward, and imperious, as the best of her sex,
might easUy persuade herself there really was
a flavor of abduction in the swooping way
duenna Hancock fled with her to Fairfield.
Besides, the habit of conquest was so deeply
confirmed in her by her invincible progress
through the courtly society of New England's
capital that only the utmost self-restraint could
keep her from making a final and distinguished
triumph. " Oh, saw ye bonie Lesley
As she gaed o'er the border ?
She 's gane like Alexander,
To spread her conquests farther."
It was a conspicuous flirtation, one to make
golden the atmosphere of the prim homes and
romantic scenes of the staid Connecticut village ;
and it was fraught with the due measure of sur
prises. Like gallant ship " with all her bravery
on and tackle trim," she gracefully sailed the
uncertain seas, met the enemy, and — was she
his ? Hancock, fretting his heart out at Philadel
phia, receives scant consideration in these critical

222 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
days. He writes to her frequently, but awakens
no response. " My Dr. Dolly," he protests in a
letter dated June 10th, " I am almost prevaUed
on to think that my letters to my aunt & you
are not read, for I cannot obtain a reply, I have
ask'd million questions & not an answer to one, I
beg'd you to let me know what things my Aunt
wanted & you, and many other matters I wanted
to know, but not one word in answer. I ReaUy
Take it extreme unkind, pray my Dr. use not so
much Ceremony & Reservedness, why can't you
use freedom in writing, be not afraid of me, I
want long Letters ... & I Beg, my Dear DoUy,
you will write me often & long Letters, I wiU
forgive the past if you -will mend in future. Do
ask my Aunt to make up & send me a Watch
String, & do you make up another & send me, I
wear them out fast. I want some little thing of
your doing." ..." Adieu my Dr. Girl," he
concludes, " and believe me to be with great
Esteem & Affection. Yours without Reserve,
John Hancock."
It was a deplorable dissonance, -rirtuously we
say it, the while a vagrant sentiment persuasively
hints it was all so natural, so inevitable, so pretty,
as to seem a subtly woven note in a preexistent
harmony. Slide it might not, however, into a
pitch so strident as to shake down with its -ribra-
tions a single pUlar in the temple sacred to the af
fections of the troth-plighted couple. Capricious

DOROTHY Q. AND OTHER DOROTHYS 223
Dorothy, the essential loyalties of her nature un
touched, turned with glad abandon to the altar
where the steady flame of heart-felt and heaven-
born love burned clear. The music and mirth of
the marriage-day submerged and swept away all
aUen elements, and blithe was that midsummer
progress through a sympathetic land to the tem
porary home in Philadelphia. What luminous
glimpses we catch of their joy in one another, and
of their happy, patriotic toU in those tumultuous
days ! Fortunate were they to whom it was given
to see the beautiful Dorothy presiding with inborn
grace and dignity as the mistress of the estabUsh
ment of John Hancock, president of the Continen
tal Congress. Then, when they returned to the
stately Hancock mansion in Boston, what gener
ous hospitality they dispensed ! For the honor
of the to-wn in its poverty they kept open house,
feasting the officers of the French fleet forty at
a time, welcoming them and their crews with un
failing cheer, when, in mischievous spirit, they
mob in a multitude the mansion, and the " com
mon is bedizzened -with lace." Washington,
Lafayette, John Adams, Lords Stanley and Wort
ley, and other notables not a few, are received
royally, and the finest part of their entertainment
is ever the sight of the face and the form of
their hostess. " When in the chronicle of the wasted time
I see description of the fairest wights

224 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
And beauty making beautiful old rhyme.
In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights;
Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best,
Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,
I see their antique pen would have expressed
Even such a beauty as you master now."
For eighteen years they Uved thus together.
Two children were born to them, and, to their
unspeakable grief, early passed away. On Octo
ber 8, 1793, John Hancock himself died. His
-widow remained single for three years, and then
was married to James Scott, a trusty sea captain,
who had long sailed the ships of Hancock. The
romance of her life was ended, but in happiness
and content she spent the rest of her days.
" She outlived her second husband many years,"
writes A. E. Brown in "John Hancock, His
Book," resided for a time at Portsmouth, N. H.,
and later in Federal Street, Boston. As Madam
Scott she delighted the people by her unfaUing
memory of the heroic past and briUiant powers of
conversation. Hospitality was a characteristic of
hers at her Federal Street home. Her table was
always laid with an extra plate for any one who
might call, and fourscore years did not rob her
of her native dignity. Says Mrs. WUliam Wales :
" I often ran into Aunt Dorothy's from school
at noon intermission, when the extra plate was at
my service, and the venerable woman ready to
greet me with a smile." On the 3d day of
February, 1830, the gift of God, Dorothea, was
returned to Him.

DOROTHY HANCOCK

DOROTHY Q. AND OTHER DOROTHYS 225
The throne occupied in such queenly manner
by Dorothy Hancock remained vacant after her
death. There were other Dorothys, but none
sufficiently eminent to be her successor and com
mand such universal homage. The Dorothy Q.
who was born to Henry Quincy and Eunice
Newell, his second wife, in 1775, was an excel
lent lady, and the ancestor of some of the most
highly regarded famUies in New England. The
record of her birth made by her father, who, in
the first year of the Revolution fled from his
home, corner of Winter and Washington streets,
Boston, to Providence, R. I., is interesting.
" Sept. /75, 28th. This day at two o'clock God
in his Providence was pleased to Grant Deliver
ance to my wife of a Daughter which was Christ
ened at the Presbetery Meeting House in Provi
dence and Christened by the Rev. M. Lathrop by
the name of Dorothy in memory of sister Dorothy
Hancock." This Henry Quincy, who was some twenty
years older than his sister Dorothy, was caUed
the handsomest man in Boston when he married
his first wife, Mary Salter. By her he had a
daughter Mary, who married Dr. John Stedman
in 1773, and after his death for second husband
WiUiam Donnison. Descendants of their chil
dren are living and honored to-day. The Dorothy
of Henry's second marriage also had a second
husband, Jabez Bullard, the ancestor of the Bul-

226 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
lards and the Doggetts, and so a connection of
the Rev. Dr. Caleb Davis Bradlee, whose long
and useful career in Boston is fresh in the mem
ory of its citizens.
Still another "Dorothy Q." remains to be men
tioned, for the very important reason that she
eUcited from Dr. Holmes a second "Dorothy Q."
poem. The sister of the poet, Mrs. Upham of
Salem, had a son who was named OUver Wen
dell Hohnes. He in turn became the father of a
little girl whom he named after the heroine of the
portrait. Dr. Holmes, when made aware of this,
wrote the following verses : —
" Dear little Dorothy, Dorothy Q.,
What can I flnd to write to you ?
You have two U's in your name, it 's true,
And mine is adorned with a double U.
But there 's this difference in the U's,
That one you will stand a chance to lose
When a happy man of the bearded sex
Shall make it Dorothy Q. -(- X.
" May Heaven smile bright on the blissful day
That teaches this lesson in Algebra !
When the orange blossoms crown your head,
Then read what your old great-uncle said,
And remember how in your hahy-time
He scribbled a scrap of idle rhyme —
Idle it may be — but kindly too,
For the little lady, — Dorothy Q. ! "
And still the name is perpetuated, and stUl the
Une it adorns stretches out as if to make conquest
of a dateless future. There is a " Dorothy Q." of

'DOROTHY Q." OF TO-DAY

DOROTHY Q. AND OTHER DOROTHYS 227
to-day. She inherits directly from the ancestors
of all the Dorothys, and herself bears the name in
its original simplicity. A daughter of the late
Dr. Henry Parker Quincy of Dedham, her ascent
is through Edmunds and Josiahs to the Judge
Quincy who was the father of Dr. Holmes's
" Dorothy Q.," and so back to the beginnings of
her race in a mingling of worthy progenitors.
Through her mother, also, Mary Adams Quincy,
she is heiress to the sterling virtues of that kin
dred Une.
Thus the name faUs not, nor can the qualities
which have exalted the fame of it fail. In pre
sent power, as well as remembered puissance,
" Dorothy Q." reigns. Long Uve Dorothy !

X

TUTOR FL-TNT, NEW ENGLAND S EARLIEST
HUMOEIST
Facetious was rare old Tutor Flynt ; scholarly
and shrewdly practical, too, but above all a wit,
a humorist. So was he regarded by his contem
poraries, and so has he been esteemed by every
generation since. He is, in fact, the first among
grave New England men with enough genial
humor in him to become famous. Others of his
day, and earUer, gleamed now and then, as sheet
Ughtning through sombre clouds, with a certain
grim jocularity ; and not a few, as Samuel SewaU,
Captain Underhill, and Cotton Mather, were at
times unconsciously and irresistibly funny. But
the Tutor, in the humane fibre of him, was by
happy foreordination and deliberate personal
intention a humorist. He had in him enough
natural vivacity, not infrequently explosive, to
temper or astound the austerity and solemnity of
a century of the primal Puritanism of Massachu
setts Bay Colony. Indeed, his repartees and
hrusquerie comprised about aU of the salt current
in the small talk of his time. Was it not the
fame of the Tutor, as much as anything else.

TUTOR FLYNT 229
which drew Harvard men with eager anticipation
to Commencement and other college functions ?
Certainly it is hard to see in the endless preaching
of those occasions, to say nothing of " three-mUe
prayers an' half-mile graces," sufficient to compete
with Father Flynt's " latest." And to-day among
those conversant with New England traditions a
smile is awakened whenever his name is men
tioned, and a pleasant reminiscence or two speeds
to the tip of the tongue, craving to utter itself.
Dr. OUver Wendell Holmes had a deep appre
ciation of the Tutor, and was frequently referred
to as the depositary of all that is worth teUing
about him. Some who should know think he
wrote a poem in honor of the cheerful old gentle
man. If such be extant, the writer has failed to
find it. Possibly it may be the one he wrote " in
wondrous merry mood," which tickled its readers
into such cachinnatory convulsions as induced
the confession, —
" And since, I never dare to write
As funny as I can."
Dr. Holmes and the Tutor were distantly con
nected, — " cousins in the fourth remove," as
Bailie Nicol Jarvie said of his relationship to
Rob Roy. How consonant with optimistic views
of heredity it would be to think of our loved
poet as in " the Une of conveyance " from that
old-time wit to the Professor at the Breakfast-

230 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
Table ! How agreeable it would be to trace in
his genial humor, in his swift, searchlight expo
sure of lurking incongruities, the exuberant wit
of his Puritan predecessor in lambent refinement !
But we are not permitted to delight ourselves
in so notable an example of the transmission and
evolution of genius. Tutor Henry Flynt died a
bachelor. What was directly and indubitably
transmitted was of a less personal character. A
silver teapot is the priceless heirloom which Dr.
Holmes received from the hands of his distant
connection. Perhaps he feU heir to other articles
of value ; but this he regarded as of surpassing
worth. He thus fondly refers to it when pre
sented with a loving cup by Harvard students in
his later days : —
" This gift of priceless value to me and to
those who come after me will meet another and
simUar one of ancient date which has come down
to me as an heirloom in the fifth generation
from its original owner. The sUver teapot which
serves the temperate needs of my noontide refec
tion has engraved upon it, for armorial bearings,
three nodules, supposed to represent the mineral
suggesting the name of the recipient, the three
words. Ex Dono Pupillorum, and the date, 1738.
This piece of silver was given by his Harvard
College pupUs to the famous tutor, Henry Flynt,
whose term of service, fifty-five years, is the longest
on the coUege record. Tutor Flynt was a bache-

TUTOR FLYNT

TUTOR FLYNT 231
lor, and this memorial gift passed after his death
to his niece, Dorothy Quincy, who did me the
high honor of becoming my great-grandmother.
Through her daughter and her daughter's daugh
ter it came down to me, and has always been held
by me as the most loved and venerated relic which
time has bequeathed me. It wUl never lose its
hold on my affections, for it is a part of my ear
liest associations and dearest remembrances."
It is to President John Adams, however, that
we are chiefly indebted for the preservation of
the most interesting foibles and witticisms of
Henry Flynt. He, too, was taken with the
surprising contrasts exhibited by this meUow
phenomenon among the hard and grim "meeting-
going animals " of the Puritan settlement. In a
sense they were neighbors or fellow townsmen.
John Adams was twenty-five years old when the
Tutor died, and as a boy he must have heard him
preach his occasional sermon in the old Braintree
meeting-house, and, as a young man, have seen
him in his study in the old Quincy mansion. No
one, indeed, was more talked about in the quiet
country village, then nourishing "the mighty
heart " of the masterful advocate of independ
ence, than old Father Flynt. Many a dull hour
between sermons of a Sunday, or of a week day
at the tavern, or by the home hearthstone, was
pleasantly whiled away by tales, more than twice
told, of his quaint ways and words ; and when his

232 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
familiar figure was descried on horseback, or in
the old calash, approaching along the country
road on his journey from Cambridge, a ripple of
interest ran through the town.
How was it, may be the natural inquiry, that
Tutor Flynt came to have a second home, or
study, or retreat, so far away from the shades of
Harvard ? His sister Dorothy was the wife of
Judge Edmund Quincy, then owner and occu
pant of the Quincy mansion in Braintree. Be
sides, the north precinct of old Braintree (now
Quincy) was the seat of his ancestors, almost
from its first settlement, and away back he was
related to the Quincys. The Tutor's grand
parents were Teacher Henry Flynt of the old
Braintree (now Quincy) First Church and Mar
gery, his wife. This Margery was sister to Joanna
Hoar, who married Colonel Edmund Quincy, son
of the Edmund who, first of the Quincy name,
came to these shores. So it wUl be seen he was
among his own kith and kin. His father, Josiah
Flynt, born in Braintree, was settled as minister
over the First Church in Dorchester, December 27,
1671, and took to wife Esther, daughter of Cap
tain Thomas Willet, first mayor of the city of
New York. Their first child was Henry, the
subject of this sketch, who was born May 5, 1675.
He graduated at Harvard in 1693, and in 1705
began his surpassing career as permanent tutor
in the college.

TUTOR FLYNT 233
Whatever attractions his birthplace, Dorchester,
may have had for him, they were swept away by
the current of memory and affections which drew
him to old Braintree. Dorothy was his only
living sister, and their relations appear to have
been tender and mutually helpful. It was prob
ably not long after her marriage to Edmund
Quincy, in 1701, that there was built for her
brother a two-story lean-to on the north side of
the mansion, containing a study and a chamber.
Here he long continued to have occasional resi
dence, and found the only real home he ever
knew in maturer years. The rooms overlook the
brook, and into them steal the pleasant sounds
of the falling waters, — a soothing melody to liUl
to sleep by night, a liquid monotone to deepen
meditation by day. And the immemorial willows,
" huge trees, a thousand rings of spring in
every bole," line the farther banks, sifting the
golden sunlight into luminous green shade. Ah,
it is a retreat for the repose of the spirit ! And
for this purpose was it used, says tradition, by the
teacher and scholar, wearied with his unvarying
tasks and rebelling against the baiting of the
unlicked cubs of the college and the stupid con
troversies of that duU age. The study is on the
ground floor, and has its own separate entrance,
so that he might go in and out without disturb
ing the other inmates of the mansion. With its
open fireplace, its undisturbed quiet, its book-

234 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
shelves within easy reach, it is a place to grow
wise in. A steep flight of winding stairs leads
to the chamber directly overhead. Indeed, it was
just the retired and separate establishment to suit
a whimsical and scholarly old bachelor.
From these pleasant precincts he vanished more
than a century and a half ago ; but visible traces
of him are still there on the floor of the little study.
A slight depression from wall to wall was worn,
it is said, by the ceaseless tread of his feet as he
paced forward and back again in black, restless
mood. As in many another humorist, a deep, irre
pressible element of melancholy mingled withthe
lighter vein. " I fell into a hypocondial disorder,"
he wrote in his diary. Dark weather and much
company and talk often predisposed to this, as
did more effectually threatened blindness. " God
hath been pleased to deprive me of the sight of
one of my eyes," he wrote in 1719 ; and later on
he writes as if the disorder were confirmed and
chronic. He is suspicious also that much smok
ing may induce his melancholy turns, and ground
is not wanting for the suspicion. " I beheve,"
he writes in 1714, " I have been of late hurt by
much Smoaking Tobacco, two pipes in forenoon
& 2 or 3 in afternoon & 4 or 5 at night. This
were surely noxious to melancholy and erring
bodily. Moderation in this and moderate exer
cise are necessary for me. I shall not be suffi
ciently moderate in smoak unless I wholly omit

>a p

H> OHD h

TUTOR FLYNT 235
it in forenoon." With such a habit, it is not to
be wondered at that sister Quincy fell in with
the idea of a separate establishment all to him
self. The only wonder is that she permitted the
cutting of doorways from both chamber and
study, giving entrance to the main house. But she
had deep sisterly affection for her erratic brother,
and abated nothing in her care of him. In his
distressful times he drinks " a portion of a sutle
Physick " of her compounding, and quaffs fre
quent libations of "good cider" from the presses
of brother Edmund. His habiliments also have
the benefit of her supervision. For a coat he
" had 10 yds. of Camblet of Sister Quincy at 5
sh. per yard." It was no small contract to keep
a confirmed bachelor and smoker up to the cler
ical standard, and so the daughter of " Bishop "
Hancock of Lexington was invited to take a
hand in fulfilling it whenever she could capture
him at his college residence or in clerical meet
ings at her father's house. Perhaps a vague
hope was entertained in the Quincy domicile and
beneath the " Bishop's " roof that the helpless
bachelor was fair game and might be led into
perpetual captirity. Here is a sample of items
scattered through his diary : " Paid Mr. Han
cock's Daughter 1 sh. for new ristbanding three
shirts ; " " Paid Mr. Hancock's daughter 2 sh.
6 d. for making three neckcl. & necks ; 6 d. for
the neckcloaths made out of old ones & 4 d. for

236 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
the necks." It was about this time that the
brother of Miss Hancock became the pastor of
the Braintree church, and a frequent visitor, of
course, at the Quincy mansion. Before taking
leave of their domestic economies, it is but fair
to state that the Tutor was not ungrateful for
benefits received. From his abundant means,
thriftily hoarded, he now and then loaned brother
Edmund good sums of money; and we come upon
such records as this : " 1722 mem. I gave sister
Quincey 10 sh. or 10 sh. 6 d. to buy Plates Tea dishes
& Saucers. She bought only plates & Tea dishes,
7 sh. so that 3 sh. is now due to me. The saucers
being returned 1 bought again." Was he deter
mined she should have all the dishes she wanted,
even if she felt she could n't afford them ?
When Henry Flynt began his career, he was
counted one of the most promising scholars in
the colony. He seems, however, to have held in
slight regard the few black-coat prizes of his day.
In 1718 he was invited " to become Rector of
the newly named Yale College." He preferred
his tutorship, and according to all accounts he
most faithfully performed its duties. His teach
ing abilities were of a high order, and his sound
judgment was much depended upon in the ad
ministration of the affairs of the coUege ; but he
fairly wore out the patience of the authorities
before he gave up, at the age of seventy-nine.
Promptly upon his resignation, the governing

TUTOR FLYNT 237
board voted " that no person chosen hencefor
ward into the office of tutor shaU abide therein
more than eight years."
Why was it that what President Quincy called
" the inconvenient experiment of a tutor seventy-
nine years of age " was tolerated so long ? It
was because the Tutor had himself become an
institution. For how many years had he been
the marked man of the college, the embodiment
of its use and wont, the one fixed element in the
flow of generations, the genial source of original
wit, the natural recipient of the exuberant greet
ings of returning alumni, not forgetful of his
good-easy advocacy of their delinquencies as
" wild colts that might make good horses ! "
Who else among the tutors and professors was
honored as he, not only with gift of silver teapot,
but with other argent utensil borne in hilarious
procession by the undergraduates on a memorable
Commencement day ! Yet withal he was full
of learning, diUgent in business, and a mo-ring
preacher, " with a most becoming seriousness and
gravity peculiar to him."
In a story which he teUs of himself, he reveals
what manner of man he was and the secret of his
hold upon his pupils. At the same time a gUmpse
is afforded of the way instruction was imparted
in his day. " One morning my class were recit
ing, and stood quite around me, and one or two
rather at my back, where was a table on which

238 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
lay a keg of wine I had the day before bought
at Boston ; and one of the blades took up the
keg and drank out of the bung. A looking
glass was right before me, so that I could plainly
see what was doing behind me. I thought I
would not disturb him while drinking; but as
soon as he had done I turned round and told
him he ought to have had the manners to have
drunk to somebody."
His mild and practical temperament influenced
his theology, an effect more apparent it may be
in his familiar talk than in his public preaching.
In his printed sermons (sold by S. Kneeland and
T. Green in Queen Street, Boston, 1739), one
may perchance find an entirely modern sentence
like this : " God having made man a rational
Creature, he treats him as such ; He requires
nothing of him but what is agreeable to his
nature, and conducive to his happiness." But
for the most part he proses monotonously on
with the droning clericals of that day, who never
dreamed of imitating their Maker and treating
man as a rational creature. It was the ice age
in New England's religious history, as Charles F.
Adams, the younger, so emphatically reiterates ;
an edelweiss at the foot of the retreating glacier
is the blossom or two we discover in the writings
of the Tutor. Hardly anywhere else is there
visible new thought vital enough to force its way
through the frozen crust. His was a soul pro-

TUTOR FLYNT 239
phetic of the age to come, — his tolerant temper
perhaps, even more than his ideas, in advance of
his time. In this regard he was alone, alone !
His resort was to practical topics and to sUence.
Sometimes it appears as if his brusque -wit were
flung out as a Une of defense to mask opinions
which would imperil him. Heresy ran in his
blood. He came of heterodox stock. His grand
father, settled with Pastor Thompson over the
old Braintree church, was for a period under
condemnation for his support of the Antinomian
heresy ; and his father was charged with " utter
ing divers dangerous heterodoxies, delivered, and
that without caution, in his public preaching."
The family trait persisted in the Tutor ; but he
had learned to envelop in it that element of
caution which his father lacked, restrained him
self to be sUent, and lived much within him
self. StUl he did not escape. His very aloof
ness was suspicious. When in his earlier days
a parish was minded to call him, objection was
made that he was not sound. All the reply he
vouchsafed was, " I thank God they know no
thing about it."
What other resort than to remain silent had a
rational creature in those days, when stupidity
was cultivated by artificial selection ! It was a
mark of his sanity and genuine soundness. The
arch-stupid, as Carlyle often vociferated, is after
aU your true arch-enemy of human weal and pro-

240 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
gress. Argument has no effect upon him, facts
lose their potency in his presence. Ridicule and
wit alone penetrate this primordial pachyderm,
and then only to irritate and arouse to bestial rage.
Confronted by it, here is the attitude adopted by
the Tutor, as described in his own handwriting :
" In this controversy keep Charity & Justice.
Keep sUence, even when you shall beforehand
conclude yourself called to speak." What con
troversy was in his mind we have no means of
knowing. The people of that day, after the de
feat of Sir Harry Vane and the cruel banishment
of other high-thinking "Antinomians," were sub
merged in a sea of theological futUities. Judge
Sewall, one of the ablest and most Uberal-minded
persons then in the colony, lets us into a know
ledge of them in taking our Tutor to task for
saying " Saint Luke and Saint James, etc." when
reading or quoting Scripture. " I have heard it
from several," declares the judge, " but to hear
it from the Senior Fellow of Harvard CoUege is
more surprising, lest by his example he should
seem to countenance and authorize Inconvenient
ImmoraUties." That last phrase is good : " In
convenient Immoralities" does so magnify the
trifle in debate ! Not content -with -writing
him, the judge lies in wait for the Tutor and
captures him in Boston after the Thursday lec
ture. Home he must go to the judge's dinner,
and there they have it out. This is the record

<
(J

2:
>JtartoHH

TUTOR FLYNT 241
left by the judge : " He argued that saying Saint
Luke was an indifferent thing ; and 't was com
monly used ; and therefore he might use it. Mr.
Brattle used it. I argued that 't was not Scrip
tural ; that 't was absurd and partial to Saint
Matthew, &c., and not to Saint Moses, Saint
Samuel, &c. And if we said Saint we must go
through and keep the Holy days appointed for
them, and turned to the order in the Common
Prayer Book." Wise Mr. Flynt, not to care for
any of these things ! " Religion in the substance
of it," declared a contemporary. Dr. Appleton, of
the First Church, Cambridge, " seemed always
to be near his heart ; and whilst he had a very
catholic spirit, not laying that stress upon dis
tinguishing forms and modes of worship, . . .
he laid great stress upon the substantial parts of
reUgion, the weightier matters of the law and
gospel, such as judgment, mercy, faith, and the
love of God." Exquisite for point and for rebuke
of intolerance was his prompt repartee in a com
pany of gentlemen where Whitefield, the revival
ist, was leading the conversation. " It is my
opinion," said Whitefield, " that Dr. Tillotson is
now in heU for his heresy." " It is my opinion,"
retorted Tutor Flynt, " that you wiU not meet
him there."
His humor seems to have been of the explosive
sort described by Dr. Johnson, " something which
comes upon a man by fits, which he can neither

242 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
command nor restrain, and which is not perfectly
consistent with true politeness." But it had point,
and that saved him from suppression when impo
lite, as in his retort upon Whitefield, and from
oppression when indifferent to accepted creeds.
The streaming character of his wit, to use a phrase
of Emerson's, also floated him, kept him " in the
swim," when by a highly proper and discriminat
ing social instinct he was doomed to stranding
and entire isolation for eccentric persistence in
the state of " single blessedness." The measure
of this handicap, which his ruling genius had to
overcome, may be gathered from the careful state
ment in the funeral oration of Dr. Appleton,
from which we have already quoted. " To say
that he was without his foibles and fadings would
be to say more of him than can be said of the
best of men. But any of them that were observ
able I doubt not were owing in a great measure
to that single state in which he lived all his days ;
which naturally begets in men a contractedness
with respect to their own private and personal con
cerns." As he uttered these words, how could
even a Puritan preacher refrain from regarding
the women of his congregation with one auspi
cious, and the men with one drooping eye ?
However, we have kept the reader too long
from that most graphic description of the Tutor
contained in the account of his journey to Ports
mouth, N. H. This was written down at the

TUTOR FLYNT 243
request of John Adams by his classmate, David
Sewall, who accompanied the old bachelor on his
trip. The affair was transacted in June, 1754,
Mr. Flynt being then eighty years of age and
Sewall nineteen.
" He sent for me to his chamber in the old
Harvard Hall, on Saturday afternoon," wrote
Sewall ; " being informed that I was an excellent
driver of a chair, he wished to know if I would
wait upon him. ... I replied the proposition
was to me new and unexpected and I wished for
a Uttle time to consider of it. He replied, ' Aye,
prithee, there is no time for consideration ; I am
going next Monday morning.' " At Lynn, their
first stopping place, " Mr. Flynt had a milk
punch," for it was a warm forenoon. By night
fall they reached Rowley, where they were enter
tained by Rev. Jedediah Jewett, who put them
both in one bed, which was all he had unoccupied.
The next day, Tuesday, at old Hampton, they
fell in with parson Cotton walking on foot with
his wife. Mr. Flynt informed him " that he
intended to have called and taken dinner with
him, but as he found he was going from home
he would pass on and dine at the public house.
Upon which says Mr. Cotton, ' We are going to
dine upon an invitation with Dr. Weeks, one of
my parishioners ; and (Rev.) Mr. Gookin and
his vrife of North Hill are likewise invited to
dine there ; and I have no doubt you wiU be

244 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
as welcome as any of us.' The invitation was
accepted. " After dinner, whUe Mr. Flynt was enjoying
his pipe^ the -wife of Dr. Weeks intioduced her
young child, about a month old, and the twins of
Parson Gookin's wife, infants of about the same
age, under some expectation of his blessing by
bestowing something on the mother of the twins
(as was supposed), although no mention of that
expectation was made in my hearing ; but it pro
duced no effect of the kind. After dinner we
passed through North Hampton to Greenland;
and after coming to a small rise in the road, hiUs
on the north of Piscataqua River appearing in
view, a conversation passed between us respect
ing one of them which he said was Frost Hill.
I said it was Agamenticus, a large hUl in York.
We differed in opinion and each adhered to his
own ideas of the subject. During this conversa
tion, while we were descending graduaUy at a
moderate pace, and at a small distance and in fuU
view of Clark's Tavern, the ground being a Uttle
sandy, but free from stones or obstructions of
any kind, the horse somehow stumbled in so sud
den a manner, the boot of the chair being loose
on Mr. Flynt's side, threw Mr. Flynt headlong
from the carriage into the road ; and the stoppage
being so sudden, had not the boot been fastened
on my side, I might probably have been thrown
out Ukewise. The horse sprang up quick, and

TUTOR FLYNT 245
with some difficulty I so guided the chair as to
prevent the wheel passing over him ; when I
halted and jumped out, being apprehensive from
the manner in which the old gentleman was thrown
out, that it must have broken his neck. Several
persons at the tavern noticed the occurrence and
immediately came to assist Mr. Flynt ; and after
rising, found him able to walk to the house ; and,
after washing his face and head with some water,
found the skin rubbed off his forehead in two or
three places, — to which a young lady, a sister
of William Parker, Jr., who had come out from
Portsmouth with him and with some others that
afternoon, appUed some pieces of court plaster.
After which we had among us two or three
single bowls of lemon punch, made pretty sweet,
with which we refreshed ourselves, and became
very cheerful. The gentlemen were John Wen
dell, WiUiam Parker, Jr., and Nathaniel Tread
well, a young gentleman who was paying suit to
Miss Parker. Mr. Flynt observed he felt very
well, notwithstanding his faU from the chair ;
and if he had not disfigured himself, he did not
value it. He would not say the fault was in the
driver ; but he rather thought he was looking too
much on those hills."
The party went on its way towards Ports
mouth. " The punch we had partaken of was
pretty well charged with good old spirit, and
Father Flynt was very pleasant and sociable.

246 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
About a mile distant from the town there is a
road that turns off at right angles (caUed the
creek road) into town, into which Mr. Treadwell
and Miss Parker (who afterwards married Captain
Adams) entered with their chair. Upon which
Mr. Flynt turned his face to me and said, " Aye,
prithee, I do not understand their motions ; but
the Scripture says. The way of a man with a
maid is very mysterious.' "
On the return journey Mr. Flynt was destined
to hear again of " Parson Gookin's wife's twins."
Indeed, it would seem as if a conspiracy had been
entered into by the ladies of Hampton to way
lay the old bachelor as he wended homeward
and compel him to give that silver blessing. At
Hampton Falls he planned to dine with the Rev.
Josiah Whipple.
" But it so happened the dinner was over, and
Mr. Whipple had gone out to visit a parishioner,
but Madam Whipple was at home, and very social
and pleasant, and immediately had the table laid,
and a loin of roasted veal, that was in a manner
whole, placed on it, upon which we made an
agreeable meal. After dinner Mr. Flynt was
accommodated with a pipe ; and while enjoying
it Mrs. Whipple accosted him thus : ' Mr. Gookin,
the worthy clergyman of North Hill, has but a
small parish, and a small salary, but a consider
able family ; and his wife has lately had twins.'
* Aye, that is no fault of mine,' says Mr. Flynt.

TUTOR FLYNT 247
' Very true, sir, but so it is.' And as he was a
bachelor, and a gentleman of handsome property,
she desired he would give her something for Mr.
Gookin ; and she would be the bearer of it, and
faithfully deliver it to him. To which he replied :
* I don't know that we bachelors are under an
obligation to maintain other folks' children.' To
this she assented ; but it was an act of charity
she now requested for a worthy person, and from
him who was a gentleman of opulence ; and who,
she hoped, would now not neglect bestowing it.
' Madam, I am from home on a journey, and it
is an unreasonable time.' She was very sensible
of this; but a gentleman of his property did
not usuaUy travel -without more money than was
necessary to pay the immediate expenses of his
journey, and she hoped he could spare something
on this occasion. After some pause he took from
his pocket a silver dollar and gave her, saying it
was the only Whole Dollar he had about him.
Upon which Mrs. Whipple thanked him and en
gaged she would faithfully soon deliver it to Mr.
Gookin ; adding it was but a short time to Com
mencement . . . and she hoped this was but an
earnest of a larger donation. . . . Father Flynt
replied, ' Insatiable woman, I am almost sorry I
have given you anything.' " However, he fully
reimbursed himself at the expense of the next
minister's wife he met. In the evening he
stopped at the home of Rev. Nathaniel Rogers in

248 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
Ipswich, who introduced him to his wife, where
upon Mr. Flynt exclaimed, " Madam, I must buss
you ! " and gave her a hearty kiss. " In the
morning we had toast and tea. He was interro
gated by Mrs. Rogers whether he would have the
tea strong or weak, that she might accommodate
it to his Uking. He replied that he liked it strong
of the tea, strong of the sugar, and strong of the
cream ; and it was regulated accordingly."
The same day the Tutor and his BosweU ar
rived in Cambridge, and the journey was ended.
It was in this year of his journey that he
resigned his tutorship. By this time death had
so changed affairs in the old home in Braintree
that no harbor offered itself there in which to
end his days. So, upon leaving his chambers in
the old Harvard HaU, he went to reside near by
at the Widow Sprague's. Not long after, he fell
sick. His wonted humor, however, never deserted
him. John Adams records in his diary (1759)
that Mr. Marsh (of Braintree) says : " Father
Flynt has been very gay and sprightly this sick
ness. Colonel Quincy went to see him a Fast
Day, and was, or appeared to be, as he was about
taking leave of the old gentleman, very much
affected ; the tears flowed very fast. ' I hope,'
says he in a voice of grief, ' you wUl excuse my
passions.' ' Aye, prithee,' says the old man, ' I
don't care much for you, nor your passions
neither.' Morris said to him, 'You are going, sir.

TUTOR FLYNT 249
to Abraham's bosom ; but I don't know but I
shall reach there first.' ' Ay, if you go there, I
don't want to go.' "
In spite of these comforters. Tutor Flynt lin
gered on till the 13th of February, 1760, when
he passed away, in the eighty-fifth year of his
age. He had a peaceful ending and a notable
funeral. On the day of interment a brief funeral
oration was delivered by James Lowell, in Hol
den Chapel, " On the Truly Venerable Henry
Flynt ; " and on the Sunday foUo-wing a sermon
was preached in his honor in the First Church,
by Mr. Appleton, on " The Blessedness of a
Fixed Heart."

XI
PERAMBULATION OF QUINCT
Quincy is not wholly a town of the past in its
more interesting aspects. It is also a city of the
present, full of life, — simmering, indeed, with
the incalculable and transforming energy of the
times. The obliterating march of modern progress
has not spared scenes and homes dear to the
" oldest inhabitant," but many historic places
remain untouched, and what is new is not by any
means to be ignored. A perambulation of Quincy,
revealing all this, will be its own reward. Does
the antiquarian, well satisfied to remain with the
picturesque generations among whom American
Independence began, wish further warrant for
such an undertaking ? He will find it in the
example of Sir Walter Besant, who has " The
Perambulation of the City and its Suburbs " in
his " Survey of London." The London of the
New World it was early predicted Quincy would
be. No less a person than the explorer who first
set his eyes upon this favored spot. Captain John
Smith, wrote on his map of the coast the name
of England's greatest city all over the region
now within the bounds of Quincy.

QUINCY CENTRE

PERAMBULATION OF QUINCY 251
The anticipation has been fulfilled in one
respect at least : since 1889 Quincy has been a
city. The change from a town government was,
however, a doubtful transaction, entered into
under the compulsion of a large increase in pop
ulation ; and the returns from the " consensus
of the competent " are not so overwhelming as
to establish the wisdom of it. In the old New
England town meeting every man is conscious
of his sovereignty and counts for all he is worth,
and aU business and elections are done above-
board and by unquestioned majorities. Simple,
direct, and democratic, this form of govern
ment is the norm and ideal of free institutions.
Nothing as good as itself can be devised to take
its place.
The town meeting in Quincy was always pre
served in its original strength and simplicity, but
in the later years of its existence it came to its
highest estate. It was held in the granite Town
Hall, which, unchanged externally, still fronts
the training field square, with its -wide spaces
and massive Stone Temple. To be a freeman in
such an assembly, the equal of any, unfettered
in speech or vote, an observer of the quick play of
thought, the wise deliberation of important ques
tions, the surprises of individual characteristics,
was an exhilaration. So citizens and statesmen
were made ; and ladies were permitted to sit in
the gaUery and see the process.

252 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
Then, too, — an important factor, — the mod
erator, unanimously chosen year after year, was
John Quincy Adams. His vigorous guidance
of business, his s-wift and wise decisions, his wit,
his fairness toward all, his masterful retention of
long strings of amendments, his discomfiture of
the mere obstructionist, his patient indulgence
of the inexperienced, was as fine a bit of pre
siding as one would wish to see. Early in his
twenty years' career as moderator he was instiu-
mental in bringing into the meetings a measure
of dignity and order not known in their pre-rious
history. From time out of mind the sovereign
citizens of Quincy had stood about -with hats on,
and when not especially interested in the item of
business just then under consideration would talk
of crops and candidates. Mr. Adams changed
all this. Seats were brought in, hats were re
moved, and with George L. GUI, the perennial
and faithful town clerk, at his right hand, and
the chairman of the Committee of Fifteen at his
left, all was done decently and in order.
That Committee of Fifteen, appointed to ex
pedite business, was the nucleus of a characteristic
group which came to be known as the " Wisdom
Corner." Edwin W. Marsh, frequently chairman
of the committee, went into that left-hand cor
ner, for the reason that it was easy there to catch
the attention of the moderator, to face the meet
ing, and to watch the course of business. Charles

PERAMBULATION OF QUINCY 253
F. Adams, the younger, quickly discerned the
convenience of the situation and followed; so
did John Quincy Adams Field, William G. A.
Pattee, George F. Pinkham, Horace B. Spear
(town treasurer for seventeen years), Warren W-
Adams, Rupert F. Claflin, Colonel Abner B. Pack
ard, Theophilus King, James H. Slade, and many
others who, if not guilty of " indecent exposure
of inteUect," were admittedly qualified to sit
in the " corner." Its astuteness chaUenged aU
measures in the interest of economy and con
servative government ; it was almost a higher
chamber in the very heart of a lower one.
" Though many people spoke lightly of the
Wisdom Corner in those days," writes one, " I
beUeve that now, after their experience with a
city government, they would be very glad to have
the Wisdom Corner take another turn at it."
Another institution of the town meeting was
Henry H. Faxon, temperance agitator, reformer
of politicians, " miUionaire poUceman," pubUc
benefactor. Over forty times by actual count he
is said to have spoken at a single session. He
required no advantage of place or support of fol
lowers. "Single and alone" he was an Urepres-
sible centre of explosive energy, now controvert
ing the " Wisdom Corner," and now castigating
for its indifference the entire assembly. But his
severest critics admit, however reluctantly, that
this " intemperate advocate of temperance " has

254 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
been always on the side of decency and order,
honesty and good government. Chiefly through
his efforts Quincy, since 1881, has been a " no-
license town," and it is altogether o-wing to his
personal watchfulness and persistence in prose
cuting offenders that prohibition has not been a
farce, but a fact. Fearlessly, in the capacity of
volunteer constable without pay, he has ventured
alone, in the night as weU as the day, to ferret
out " rum-sellers " in the lowest dens. LiberaUy
he has given time and wealth for the furtherance
of his principles, spending a fortune for "the
cause." A characteristic form of his generosity
is to contribute annually to all the Sunday schools
in Quincy large amounts for the Christmas and
other entertainments of the chUdren. He is a
genuine product of the rugged, independent old
Quincy settlers (his ancestors were among the
earliest English immigrants), pecuUar in the pic
turesque Yankee way, restless under the ceaseless
exactions of the New England conscience. He
is a "character," who, besides his other achieve
ments, has certainly made the life of his ancient
town more interesting.
But the town meeting, in which Mr. Faxon
was seen at his best, came to an end. The Town
Hall could not hold the citizens for the multitude
of them, and even the great barn of a skating-
rink proved inadequate. A new form of govern
ment was imperative, but the change was made

HENRY H. FAXON

PERAMBULATION OF QUINCY 255
with reluctance. All felt that it was a critical
moment in the history of the old to-wn.
The assembly which met in the Town HaU to
inaugurate the new government was not large,
and lacked enthusiasm. Altogether it was a Ufe-
less affair, with little to indicate the importance
of the occasion. Should it be permitted to end
so ? The minister of First Church, immediately
upon the close of the exercises, caUed out " Father
FUnt," the old white-haired sexton, and directed
him to ring the bell in the grand historic edifice.
But what should it be, — a peal of joy or toUing
as for the departed? " Father Flint " was of the
past, and plainly depressed. Uncertain what to
do, he rang once, and then paused to expostulate.
Urged to go on, and assured that it was all right,
he laboriously puUed the rope again. The bell
was tolling, — there was no doubt of that, —
toUing for the passing of the town of Quincy,
for the close of an epoch in which it had been
famous among the towns of the Commonwealth.
A memory now was that town to be, — a memory
of a Ufe and a time never to be repeated. Gone
were the simple ways and the strength of them,
— gone the quiet, unhasting life, the unques
tioned faith, the sturdy devotion to duty; gone
the plain honesty, the humble romance, the high
hearted patriotism, the rugged independence, the
social equality, of the town of John Adams (the
son of a cordwainer), and of " Colonel " Quincy,

256 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
and of the Basses and Baxters, the SavUles and
Spears. And the white-haired sexton in his
feebleness and uncertainty was tolling the beU.
Plainly this would never do. A young man,
Walter B. Holden, stepped forward to relieve
" Father Flint." Youth and optimism now rang
a vigorous peal for the new city of Quincy.
The plangent sounds flooded the square (once
the training field), stirring the hearts of the
people pouring from the City HaU, as they had
quickened the pulses of their forefathers in the
victorious days when Independence was declared
and the sons of Quincy triumphed on the field or
in the senate. They were flung far and wide to
the granite hills, to the shores of the sea, to the
farms, to the shops, to the remote villages. They
chanted to the future a defiant faith snatched
from the struggling light of these uninteUigible
days. They drowned in their clamor the fears
which will arise from a life transitional between
two worlds, — one parochial in its secluded and
changeless homogeneity, the other cosmopoli
tan, and swayed by the vast forces of inven
tive and competing globe exploiters. Not too
desperate is the hope, they seemed to say, that
Quincy the city may fulfill a destiny as sublime
and beneficent as Quincy the town.
The form of government of the city was ham
mered into ideal shape through long -winter
months, particular attention being given to the

PERAMBULATION OF QUINCY 257
features of "personal responsibiUty," "single
chamber," and other modern devices to circum
vent the self-seeking and the delinquent. Charles
H. Porter had the honor to be elected the first
mayor. He has been succeeded by Henry 0.
Fairbanks, WUUam A. Hodges, Charles F. Adams,
2d, RusseU A. Sears, Harrison A. Keith, John
0. HaU, and Charles M. Bryant, now (1902) in
office. The city is well launched on a sea not
too turbulent, but just enough to put to the test
the virtues of its citizens.
In the perambulation of the city — too long
delayed by unavaiUng regrets over the accept
ance of it — no better place to start from is
afforded than the summit of Penn's HiU. Not
only is it a commanding height on one of the
sides of the city, but there the past and the
present harmoniously meet. On this eminence,
the 17th of June, 1896, the Adams Chapter of
Quincy of the Daughters of the Revolution laid
the corner-stone of a cairn to the memory of
AbigaU Adams. A beautiful day with clear
est atmosphere, the multitude which was gath
ered on the granite ledges of the hiU could look
over the town and across the bay to where in
the haze of the metropolis Charlestown lay, and
the tall shaft of Bunker Hill pierced the sky.
From this view, much like that which feU upon
the eyes of Abigail Adams so many years before,
the assembly was called to give its attention to

258 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
the interesting exercises appointed for the day.
They were conducted by Mrs. N. V. Titus, re
gent of the chapter, through whose efforts the
enterprise had been assured and all arrange
ments for the ceremonial perfected. Addresses
were delivered by Charles F. Adams, 2d, then
mayor of Quincy, Ed-win W. Marsh, Charles F.
Adams, the younger, and Miss Elizabeth Porter
Gould. The corner-stone, contributed by the
Swithin Brothers, is a beautiful block of poUshed
granite made from a sleeper of the oldest raUway
in the country, — that built in 1826 from the
Quincy quarries to the Neponset River, for the
conveyance of stone to be used in the construc
tion of Bunker Hill Monument. At the laying
of it Abigail Adams, daughter of John Quincy
Adams, presided with silver trowel ; and when
she had accompUshed her part, various patriotic
societies and individuals contributed stones, prized
for their associations, which were biult into the
cairn tUl it reached its monumental proportions.
Colonel E. S. Barrett, President of the Sons of
the American Revolution, brought a stone from
the Concord battlefield, Mrs. Abbie B. Eastman
brought one from Lexington battlefield, John H.
Means, a connection of Samuel Adams, brought
one from Dorchester Heights, Hon. James Hum
phrey brought one from the home of Abigail
Adams in Weymouth, and so did Rev. Robert
R. Kendall, the present successor of Rev. WilUam

ABIGAIL ADAMS CAIRN

BIRTHPLACE OF PRESIDENT JOHN QUINCY ADAMS

PERAMBULATION OF QUINCY 259
Smith, AbigaU's father. Then there were con
tributions from the foot of the Washington Ehn
by George Eastman of Cambridge, and from
North Bridge, Salem, by Miss Helen PhUbrick,
and from historic HuU by Miss Floretta Vining,
and thus one after another these memorial stones
were wrought into a structure unique among the
monuments of the country. A beautiful bronze
tablet with the following inscription was given
by Charles F. Adams, the younger : —
" From this spot, with her son John Quincy
Adams, then a boy of seven by her side, Abigail
Adams watched the smoke of burning Charles
town whUe listening to the guns of Bunker HUl,
Saturday, June 17, 1775."
Little more than a stone's throw eastward
from the summit of Penn's Hill is one of the
more picturesque quarries of Quincy, the large
crater-Uke ca-rity of the pink granite quarry,
memorable to the writer and many others as the
scene of the labors of one of Quincy's former
residents, George B. Wendell. He was of the
famous Wendell stock, a sea captain and son of
Portsmouth, N. H., who in his later years re
strained his adventurous spirits to forsake the
free world of the great waters and the rule of
the quarter-deck to " boss " a quarry gang in the
bowels of the earth. As true a man as ever
breathed, was the universal acclaim when he
passed away, — one whose life deepened faith in
humanity.

260 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
From the side of the hUl in the neighborhood
of this quarry one can look down into Wey
mouth Fore River, the salt-water inlet which
separates Weymouth and Quincy. Here are sit
uated the extensive Fore River Ship and En
gine Company's Works, where battle-ships and
torpedo-boats are built with aU modern celer*
ity and skUl, and where was recently launched
the seven-masted schooner Thomas W- Lawson.
What astounding fulfiUment is this of predic
tions made by John Adams and others that the
Quincy seaboard, so convenient for ship-buUd-
ing, would some day be the scene of a great
development of this industry ! The first vessel
buUt in Quincy was launched from ways on a
creek now included within the Fore River Com
pany's plant, but the point near Germantown
has been the location most prized. Here was
Deacon Thomas's shipyard, where in the old
day, a marvel for size, an 800-ton vessel was
constructed. John Souther, too, had a ship
yard at what is now kno-wn as Johnson's wharf,
on Town River ; and Dr. Woodward was so con
vinced that Black's Creek, drained at every ebb
of tide, was a good haven for vessels and their
making that in his wUl he invited especial atten
tion to the matter. But how far beyond all that
was ever done or dreamed is the development at
Fore River ! It is the largest element in the
creation of the new Quincy, transforming the

PERAMBULATION OF QUINCY 261
pretty roads and shores of the Point into a bus-
tUng, " booming " industrial centre.
Quincy is said to have a more sinuous and
deeply indented shore than any other town or
city in Massachusetts. Follow it round from
Fore River to the Neponset, which divides
Quincy from Boston, and what various scenes
of quiet beauty meet the eye ! Points of quite
human interest there are also : the magnificent
electric Ught plant at Brackett's wharf, where
Henry M. Faxon, the manager, produces more
Uluminating power than could be measured by
all the spermaceti candles made by his Hardwick
ancestors in the Germantown of the old day ;
the Sailors' Snug Harbor at Germantown, in
which Captain C. P. Jayne, who has sailed the
seven seas, cares for the other ancient mariners ;
the summer settlement at Hough's (pronounced
Hoff's) Neck, -with its fleet of yachts and its plea
sant clubhouse ; Merry-Mount, the home of Mrs.
John Quincy Adams, where hill and shore retain
unchanged the natural beauty roistering Mor
ton looked upon ; the National Sailors' Home,
refuge of infirm naval heroes, whose comfort is
made sure by Lieutenant Downes. So we come
to Squantum, romantic and historic, whose cliffs
look upon old Dorchester Bay and Boston. Here
Myles Standish and a party from Plymouth —
piloted by Squanto, the faithful friend of the
white man — landed, September 30, 1621. In

262 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
commemoration of this fact a cairn has been
built on the highest part of the stone ridge,
which on the east dips to the sea and on the
west declines to " Massachusetts Hummock " and
its meadows. On Monday, September 30, 1895,
the corner-stone was laid and the services of
dedication celebrated in the presence of a large
assembly. Charles F. Adams, the younger, de
livered the address of the occasion, once more
showing his interest in the historic places of
Quincy. He described the voyaging of Myles
Standish and his men from Plymouth, and did
not fail to pay a fine tribute to Squanto, for
whom Squantum is named. Mrs. WilUam Lee,
Regent of the Daughters of the Revolution of
Massachusetts, also made an address, and she
and Mr. Adams laid the corner-stone. The
Quincy Historical Society and the Bostonia So
ciety participated in the exercises, and were
represented by many members. The leading
spirit of the occasion, however, was Mrs. N. V.
Titus, who presided, gave the address of welcome,
and entertained the guests at her home near by.
Indeed, it was entirely owing to her interest in
the historic places of her picturesque neighbor
hood that the enterprise was conceived and car
ried out.
Standing by the cairn one may not only enjoy
a good riew of Boston harbor, gemmed with its
islands, but looking inland he sees the rugged

PERAMBULATION OF QUINCY 263
hiUs which from any point along the shore form
the background of Quincy. Observing these
hiUs closely, he wUl discern what appears to be
masts rising from their summits. They are the
derricks of the granite quarries. Who has not
heard of Quincy granite ? At one time thought
to be the only stone Boston should use in the
erection of its more dignified edifices, and now
considered to be unsurpassed for polished work.
As early as 1749 this granite was utilized, but
at that date only surface boulders were broken
up and -wrought into shape. King's Chapel in
Boston was buUt of this material between 1749
and 1752, and it was thought to be so limited in
quantity that the town became alarmed, and by
vote forbade its further removal untU otherwise
ordered. Later, however, enough was secured
to construct the famous old Hancock mansion on
Beacon HUl. " The difhculty seems to have
been," writes Mr. Adams in his " Three Epi
sodes," " that, -with the tools then in use, they
were unable to work into the rock. The King's
Chapel stone, it is said, was broken into a degree
of shape by letting iron balls fall upon the heated
blocks. At last, upon one memorable Sunday in
1803, there appeared at Newcomb's Tavern, in
the centre of the North Precinct, three men, who
called for a dinner with which to celebrate a feat
they had just successfully performed. The fear
of the tithingman not restraining them, they had

264 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
that day split a large stone by the use of wedges.
Their names were Josiah Bemis, George Stearns,
and Michael Wild. It was indeed a notable
event, for the crust of the syenite hiUs was
broken." Later Solomon WUlard and Gridley
Bryant, two remarkable men, greatly advanced
the industry. Bunker HiU Monument was to be
buUt, — an immense contract. They were stim
ulated to invent new methods. " WhUe WUlard
laid open the quarry and devised the drUls, the
derricks, and the shops, Bryant was buUding a
railway. This famous structure marked an epoch,
not only in the history of Quincy, but in that of
the United States ; and in every school history
it is mentioned as the most noticeable event dur
ing the administration of the younger Adams."
On this first raUway of the United States, operated
by horse power, the first cars were run October
7, 1826. From quarry to tide-water the stone
was carried, not only for Bunker HiU Monument,
but for Minot Ledge Lighthouse and many a nota
ble structure beside. The raUway was demolished
years ago, its roadbed bought and utiUzed by the
Old Colony system ; but the quarry stiU produces
abundance of granite, and the " Granite Railway
Company " still conducts an increasing business,
laying modern rails to yet other ledges. Luther
S. Anderson, son of the schoolmaster so well
known in Boston a decade ago, Luther W. An
derson, is its enterprising manager.

QUARRIES OF GRANITE RAILWAY COMPANY

PERAMBULATION OF QUINCY 265
Numberless are the other quarries which have
been opened in these granite hiUs. Great eleva
tions are being leveled, and the very " roots of
the mountains " are being torn out, but the sup
ply is inexhaustible. Stone sheds for the ham
mering and poUshing of the obdurate material
have multipUed, so that within the last twenty
years these and the houses of the workmen have
quite altered the face of the country. New vU
lages have sprung up in the meadows, and the
rugged hiUsides have been sprinkled over with
habitations. Through industry and enterprise of a high
order were the quarries developed and the shap
ing and handhng of the stone brought to their
present perfection. Little enough, it is some
times thought, has this advantaged Quincy. It
has fatefuUy changed the character of the com
munity, making it more gf an industrial centre.
This may well disturb those who love the old
scenes and the old ways, and who looked for
a different development. All the cosmopolitan
camaraderie he may assume is hardly sufficient to
reconcile the ordinary native to the disappearance
of " neighbors " in the " foreign invasion," the
multiplication of unpronounceable names on the
voting Usts, and the consequent increase of taxa
tion for the additional number of schoolhouses
needed to educate the abundant progeny of the
unsophisticated or improvident proletariat from

266 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
over the water. But this is the condition of
things which most communities in this land of
liberty and of " unparaUeled prosperity " have
to face. It may be that if we are chary neither
of our sympathy nor of our honesty, what is best
in those escaping from the ancient wrongs of the
Old World -will rise up to meet us. Swedes and
Norwegians are now sweUing the invasion. Who
wUl deny that they possess sterUng virtues ia
large measure ? And the thrifty Scot " from
Aberdeen awa' " has already made his religious
ness and ethical persistence felt.
Whatever the effect of the quarries upon
Quincy's future, this at least is to be said : that
we have in the men who have had most to do
¦with the development of them persons who would
add to the strength of any community. From
the earliest times they had in a marked degree the
intelligence needed to extend their business to
about all the large cities and towns of the coun
try, and the virtues which go to the making of
good citizens. There was Henry Barker, eager for
all moral and educational reforms ; and Charles
Henry Hardwick, a true lover of nature and syl
van sports ; and Patrick McGrath, the phUoso
pher and friend of James Martineau, the great
English thinker; and honest Amos ChurchiU and
ex-Councilman George L. Miller ; and besides
these many more, both of the past and the pre
sent, — the Wrights, the Mitchells, the Fields,

PERAMBULATION OP QUINCY 267
the Fallons, the Badgers, the McDonnells, and
Messrs. Hitchcock, WUd, Craig, Richards, Mc-
GUlvray, Vogel, Jones, and John Thompson and
his more famous son James.
Ha-ring fetched a compass round about the
outer Umits of the city and caught a glimpse of
its far-extending and verdure-clad uplands, and
its sinuous shores bathed by the shining sea, we
should now be prepared to traverse the heart of
it. Let it not be imagined, however, that we
are to be led through a man-made wilderness of
brick and mortar and granite pavement. Quincy
fortunately retains stiU, even in its populous
parts, the natural beauty of the New England
town. Its thoroughfares are roads and lanes.
The old Centre, with its " God's acre " asleep in
the greenwood shade, its stately granite temple
of worship dominating the wide grass-sown spaces
and broad highways which surround it, its city
haU Roman in strength and severity of outline,
and its fountain with the bubbUng water brim
ming its ample rim, is to all appearances a village
square. The old Hancock Tavern is there yet, —
somewhat changed, to be sure (its yard filled up
-with a line of stores), but much the same as when
Daniel Webster, journeying to Marshfield, used
to descend from the mail coach to drink to the
meanes of the place and to the comfort of his own
majestic frame. And just across the way is the
simple homestead of Henry H.Faxon, who bought

268 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
the tavern as the only way to circumvent " mine
host," who would persist in dispensing Uquid
refreshment. Mr. Faxon's house is on the corner
of Coddington Stieet, and opposite it is an ancient
landmark, — the little wooden cottage in which
since time out of mind the Quincy Mutual Fire
Insurance Company has had its offices. Cramped
the officials find themselves in spite of frequent
extensions ; but President Charles A. Howland
seems to consider that what he has done in the
way of monument-building to his Pilgrim an
cestors is in this Une quite enough. He does
not feel called upon to inspire the erection of a
monument to his business. On yet another side
of " the Square " (it is a triangle) is the Adams
Block, built by John Quincy Adams a few years
ago. In it is the Mount WoUaston Bank, upon
whose board of directors Charles F. Adams, the
elder, served for a number of years.
All these buildings face the old training field,
whose bounds (now obliterated) the late Edward
H. Dewson patiently searched out and estabUshed.
For over two hundred and fifty years this spot
has been the very heart of the community, throb
bing with its life, the pulsations of which have
been transmitted -with renewing power to the re
motest homes. Originally, it is probable, it was
part of the Coddington grant, and came by gift
or confiscation into the possession of the town.
Its level greensward early invited the miUtia for

PERAMBULATION OF QUINCY 269
the wonderful evolutions of training days, and
from here the raw levies of hardy farmers went
forth to fight the Indians, the French, the red
coats, and the Confederates. What would we
not give to possess a " snap shot " of Colonel
Quincy and Lieutenant John Adams at the head
of their picturesque array ! Alas, the days of the
camera came in as the men and the events worth
photographing went out ! Added interest was
imparted to the training field October 8, 1732,
when a new meeting-house was buUt upon it by
the old First Society. To be more correct, the
town buUt it, for then the church and the town
were one. This was the Hancock meeting-house,
which lasted for ahnost a hundred years, when it
was superseded by the present Stone Temple,
which was dedicated November 12, 1828. The
historic character of this dignified edifice becomes
with every passing year more exalted in the pub
lic mind. Already the number of visitors who
wish to view the interior has increased to such an
extent as to embarrass the sexton and the parish
committee. The beautiful marble tablets in mem
ory of the Presidents and their wives, and the
sarcophagi beneath the portico are certainly of
interest to the multitudes who in these days are
increasing their knowledge of America's heroic
generations. And recently Mr. Edmund M.
Wheelwright of Boston has placed one more ob
ject of interest in the church, — a fine bronze

270 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
tablet in memory of his sturdy old ancestor, the
Rev. John Wheelwright.
From the training field square roads branch
off in all directions. Near by on Washington
Street, which goes to " the Point," is to be seen
the charming Crane Memorial HaU, which con
tains the Thomas Crane PubUc Library and the
library bequeathed to the town by John Adams.
Thomas Crane came of " pure old New England
stock," bearing the Quincy haU-mark. In his
blood was the strength of the Savils and Baxters.
His fathers for three generations back were born
in Quincy, but he himself was born on George's
Island, in the harbor, on the 18th of October,
1803. Not long after, his parents returned to
the mainland, and in the primitive schools of
Quincy he received all the pedagogic training
destiny allotted him. At the age of twenty-six,
as we read in Mr. Adams's admirable address at
the dedication of the haU, Thomas Crane went
to New York, a journeyman stonecutter, active,
self-reliant, and ambitious. Here he soon became
a master workman, and eventually one of the
leading stone contractors of the city. " During
nearly thirty years of as active construction as
any great city ever saw, there were few buUdings
of magnitude erected in New York, in which
granite was used, to which Thomas Crane did
not contribute, and which did not contribute to
him." His wealth rapidly increased, and for his

THOMAS CRANE

CRANE .ME.MURI.^L H.iLL

PERAMBULATION OF QUINCY 271
clear, shrewd common sense and sterling honesty
positions of honor and trust were abundantly
conferred upon him. Throughout his life he
retained a deep affection for Quincy, and after
his death Mrs. Crane and her two sons gave to
the town the perfect bit of architecture named
in memory of him. WhUe she lived Mrs. Crane
manifested great interest in the Ubrary, and at her
death left $20,000 to be devoted to the care of
the building and the grounds and to the purchase
of works of art. Her son Benjamin Franklin
Crane has also passed away, and in his memory a
beautiful window has been placed in the haU. The
other son, Albert Crane, is stiU living. His home
is in Stamford, Conn.
Opposite the Crane Memorial HaU is to be
erected the new government building. It can
not faU to add greatly to the appearance of this
locality and to awaken anticipations of the de
velopments yet to be made in the heart of the
city. Along the line of the old Plymouth road, now
called Hancock Street, the square seems to ex
tend itself, — so wide is the thoroughfare, —
past the new colonial building of the Quincy
Savings Bank to the imposing Bethany Congre
gational Church. Continuing in this direction
one comes to the offices of the solid old " Quincy
Patriot," a newspaper, not a person, with a lin
gering aroma of vUlage days and colonial hero-

272 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
worship. Adjoining is the garden spot of the
Centre, the greenhouses and shrubbery of Col
onel Abner B. Packard. Beyond is the " Hol
low," where the town brook passes under the
road, a place for tanneries in the old days, but
greatly improved now by the fine business blocks
of Durgin and MerriU and Henry L. Kincaide,
and the large brick Music HaU. And so we
come to a place where four roads meet, and
which might be called Liberty Tree Square ; for
here, as John Adams tells us, a Uberty tree was
planted in the fervent first days of the Revolu
tion. Measures were taken to guard its growth,
but if it survived till independence was won, no
record of that fact remains. Perhaps it was
planted in this spot because the Brackett Tavern,
the house of fashionable resort in Revolutionary
times, as W. S. Pattee tells us in his history,
stood prominently on one of the corners. It is
there now, altered into a commodious dwelling-
house, long owned and occupied by John S. WU
liams, and at present by Dr. John F. Welch.
On the opposite corner is the pretty stone
" Christ Church," the place of worship of one of
the oldest Episcopal societies in New England.
It may indeed be called the oldest, for King's
Chapel, which preceded it by but a few years,
has been a Unitarian church for over a century.
As early as 1689 there were gatherings of Church
of England people in Braintree North Precinct,

PERAMBULATION OF QUINCY 273
now Quincy, and organization was formally ef
fected in 1701. An exotic among New England
CongregationaUsts, it had a hard struggle for ex
istence, in which it displayed a persistence equal
to that which was manifested anywhere by its
opponents. Not far from Christ Church, on that
part of the winding Plymouth road which is now
caUed School Street, is yet another church which
commands attention. It is St. John's Catholic
Church, the largest of that faith in Quincy ; the
mother church it might be caUed, as its clergy
have gone out into other parts of Quincy and
established and maintained new houses of wor
ship as they were required. The oldest CathoUc
Church is, however, St. Mary's at West Quincy.
Across the way from St. John's Church is the
residence buUt by that rugged and honest " forty-
niner" James Edwards, on the site of the
Cranch house, where lived the companion of John
Adams and where the first post-office was located.
Later the Greenleafs, who intermarried with the
Cranches, made this their home. From here one
might continue his perambulation along the old
Plymouth road past the place where Joseph
Marsh had his school, to the birthplaces of the
Presidents and the old-fashioned homestead of
the Fields. The temptation is strong, however,
to linger for a moment at the hospitable residence
of James H. Stetson, so long the home of his
father, Dr. James A. Stetson.

274 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
Dr. Stetson, born in Braintree in 1806, was,
when he died, in 1880, not only the oldest prac
titioner in Norfolk County, but the last of the
physicians who, in the old-fashioned imperious
way, attended to the Uls of the entire town. One
minister for the cure of souls and one doctor for
the cure of bodies was the ancient order up to
his day. He was the true successor of Drs. Wil
son and Savil and Phipps and Woodward, as Mrs.
A. E. Faxon shows in " A Brief Record of the
Physicians of Quincy," and wisely and kindly
did he reign. Some time before his death the
increase of population invited other physicians
to share his labors, and in 1862 Dr. John S.
Gilbert, so skillful, sympathetic, and disinter
ested, began his long career. " The beloved phy
sician " he was to thousands, a description which
may well be appUed to about aU of the medical
gentlemen who have practiced their profession in
Quincy. Affectionately one recalls Dr. Joseph
Underwood, manly and unselfish, who settled
here after his devoted services in the war for the
Union, and scholarly Dr. James F. Harlow, and
Dr. James Morison, great of stature but tender
and gentle as any woman. Dr. John A. Gordon,
still in active performance of his professional
duties, came to Quincy from the Harvard Medi
cal School and the Boston Hospital in 1871.
Of all the physicians of the city he has been
here longest ; he is the " Dean of the Faculty."

JOHN ALEXANDER GORDON, M. D.

PERAMBULATION OF QUINCY 275
Not-withstanding the exacting nature of a large
practice, he has shown himself a model citizen
by lending his aid to pubUc improvements and
heartUy cooperating with Mr. WUliam B. Rice in
the planning and establishment of the City Hos
pital. He does not stand alone, however, in this
regard among his fellow physicians. Dr. Joseph
M. Sheehan, Braintree born, a Harvard graduate
and student of Paris universities, has wisely
served the town as chairman of the Board of
Health and member of the School Committee.
With these gentlemen we cannot fail to mention
Dr. S. M. Donovan, the first city physician, cut
down by death in the prime of his powers, Dr.
John F. Welch, Dr. Frank S. Davis, Dr. W. H.
Record, Dr. S. W. Garey, Dr. Henry C. HaUo-
weU, Dr. N. S. Hunting, and Dr. S. W. EUs-
worth. Rising from the centre of the city, all its
streets and homes and fields, away to the in
dented shore, spread out before it, is Presidents'
HiU. A -riew unsurpassed by any to be obtained
in other parts of the suburbs of Boston is to be
enjoyed from its summit. Almost a dozen cities
and towns are in sight, indicated by the steeples
of their churches or their clustered houses, all
set in an ideal New England landscape, — the
rugged hills behind and the infinite expanse of
the changeful sea before. This is the prospect
the Presidents deUghted in, and from his home,

276 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
built upon the very crown of the gently sloping
hill, Charles Francis Adams the younger daily
rejoiced in it. To his sorrow he was forced to
abandon the charms of the place, both those seen
with the sight of the eyes and those suggested
by the associations of centuries, " driven from a
home of two hundred and fifty years by the
steady, irresistible advance of what the world is
pleased to call modern improvements." Like an
exUe, almost, he must feel in the to-wn of Lincoln,
to which he has removed. But his regret over
the enforced change can hardly be keener than
that of the older residents of Quincy, with whom
he was so ready to labor for aU real improve
ments. However, his broad acres have been carved
into ample plots on curving roads, and fine homes
of the newer Quincy are now adorning the hiU
side. Across the way from Mr. Adams's old
home, occupied by Mr. Herbert Lawton, is the
spacious and artistic residence of Mr. WUUam B.
Bateman, and near by are the beautiful places of
W. T. Babcock, Herbert F. Mclntire, A. W. Par
ker, and W. E. Blanchard. Presidents' Lane,
which is the way John Adams used to take morn
ing and evening to see the sun in its rising and
setting, has long been one of the prettiest of
country roads, and on it were built about all the
houses which enjoyed the advantages of the hill.
Parson Lunt's house, now occupied by Judge

ADAMS ACADEMY

PRESIDENTS' LANE

PERAMBULATION OF QUINCY 277
E. C. Bumpus, was built there, and near it for
years has stood the pleasant homestead of Jo
seph C. Morse, a leading leather merchant of
Boston, the comfortable early home of Charles
F. Adams, the younger, now the residence of
Edward H. Anger, the house of Professor Jef
frey R. Brackett, and that of Mrs. Lane and the
late Charles Marsh. Now to these have been
added the modern -rillas of Hon. John Shaw,
Clarence Burgin, and A. F. Schenkelberger.
By Dimmock Stieet one descends to Hancock
Street, the part of the old Plymouth road on the
Boston side of the square. Here is situated the
Adams Academy, on the site of the Rev. John
Hancock's parsonage. It was founded by John
Adams, who in 1823 conveyed by deed of gift
one hundred and sixty acres of land, from the
income of which was to be built the Stone Temple,
and afterwards a building for a school or acad
emy. " The deeds by which this property was con
veyed," writes Josiah Quincy in his Figures of the
Past, " were executed at my father's house, and
my name appears as a -witness to the document."
The academy was buUt in 1872. The first master
was WilUam Reynolds Dimmock, LL. D., Law
rence Professor of Greek in WiUiams CoUege, a
schoolmate and devoted friend of Bishop PhUlips
Brooks. Dr. Dimmock threw himself with the ut
most energy into the work of the school, and his
name attracted pupUs from aU over the countiy.

278 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
For their accommodation the " Hancock House "
was hired and opened as a boarding-house.
Dr. Dimmock's exertions entirely overtaxed his
stiength, and he died at the early age of forty-
three, March 29, 1878. His successor was WU
liam Everett, Ph. D., formerly assistant profes
sor of Latin in Harvard College. Dr. Everett
retained the position till 1893, when he resigned,
to take his seat in Congress. He was succeeded
by Mr. WUliam RoyaU Tyler (A. B. Harvard
CoUege, 1874), who had been connected with the
school for nineteen years. The boarding depart
ment was now discontinued. Mr. Tyler's ser
vice was short, and he died, greatly lamented,
November 1, 1897, when Dr. WUUam Everett was
reappointed, who is the present master.
In the porch memorial tablets are erected to
Dr. Dimmock and Mr. Tyler. On the outside of
the schoolhouse is a tablet commemorating the
fact that on the same spot stood the dweUing
wherein was born John Hancock, who signed
the Declaration of Independence as president of
Congress. If one were to continue on the old Plymouth
road, following in the footsteps of John Quincy
Adams when as a boy he rode to Boston for
letters, he would pass over one of the plea
santest thoroughfares in New England. Adams
Street has long been considered the most attrac
tive of the Quincy streets. Beginning at the

< (B
d. .2
>- o

PERAMBULATION OF QUINCY 279
academy and the home of Ex-Mayor Porter across
the way, it runs past the Adams mansion, the
ample Beale homestead, the new residence of
J. H. Emery and that of the late John C. Ran
dall, an influential Boston merchant and lover
of letters. Beyond are the spacious houses of
Thomas Whicher, WUliam B. Rice, Mrs. E. H.
Dewson, Mr. T. L. Sturtevant, Mr. H. L. Rice, Mr.
Timothy Reed, Mr. TheophUus King, Mr. J. L.
Faxon, Mr. Henry M. Faxon, the City Hospital
high on a hUl away from the road, and so on to
the comfortable farmhouse of WUUam H. Eaton
and the MUton line.
Pleasant, indeed, are these roads and homes of
the Centre, but they hardly surpass those of
WoUaston Heights. This region might -with
tiuth be caUed the chief residential part of
Quincy. The houses are built on three command
ing hUls, which afford not only fine outlooks
but lend themselves to pleasantly curving roads.
The first hiU is supposed to be the site of Ann
Hutchinson's farm, and a stone commemorating
this fact is placed on the grounds of Mr. Wen
deU G. CortheU. Appropriate would it have
been to have named this village Hutchinson
Heights, as Mr. Adams suggests. " WoUaston
Heights " is not supported by any associations
of the place, and is too often confounded with the
old Mount WoUaston, on the shore. However,
the name has come to be recognized as that of

280 WHERE AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE BEGAN
a place pleasant to dwell in, and vrill probably
abide. From the " Heights " one looks down
upon the broad plain of the ancient Massachu
setts Fields, — historic ground, where the Rev.
John Wilson, Boston's earliest minister, was
granted a large allotment of land. He built
him a house, the first to be erected in this neigh
borhood, which he never occupied. Was the
liberal atmosphere of the place too bracing for
the leader of the " legaUsts " ? However this
may be, his descendants Uved in the house for a
hundred years and more, and it stood there, on
what is stUl known as the Taylor farm, as late as
1850. Within sight of it Colonel Quincy buUt,
in 1770, the later Quincy mansion, and in recent
years a companion home was erected for Mr. J. P.
Quincy. A model school for young ladies has
estabUshed itself in this deUghtful situation.
Here, also, the old and the new are intermin
gling, a good place in which to end our peram
bulation of Quincy. To be sure the half has not
been seen, — Norfolk Downs and West Quincy
are quite left out, — but the end has been at
tained if a clear picture has been presented of
a city of ancient fame inspiring modern possi
bUities.

INDEX

INDEX

Adams, Abigail, home of, 68 ; edu
cation and marriage, 76 ; on Penn's
Hill, 86 ; urges independence, 89 ;
heroism of, 92 ; described hy Pre
sident Quincy, 95 ; death, 102, 125,
171 ; cairn, 267.
Adams, AhigaU, of to-day, 145, 258.
Adams, Abigail B. (Brooks), mar
riage, 125 ; services and character,
130, 138.
Adams Academy, 103, 138.
Adams, Brooks, 141, 145.
Adams, Charles Francis (1807-86),
publio spirit, 75 ; on Monroe Doc
trine, 115; character, 122; mar
riage, 125 ; in Congress, 127 ; min
ister to England, 127-136 ; Ala
bama Claims, 138 ; death, 139 ;
children of, 141 ; gift to First
Church, 146.
Adams, Charles Francis (the
younger), cited, 12 ; describes
Thomas Morton, 16 ; Sir Christo
pher Gardiner, 19 ; Antinomian
controversy, 32 ; Wheelwright's
meeting-house, 36 ; of the " tribe
of Joanna," 47 ; on Judge E. E.
Hoar and the "Widow Joanna
Hoar" scholarship, 67; on com
pulsory municipal service, 74;
Abigail Adams on Penn's Hill,
86 ; England and the Confederacy,
129 ; his public services, 141-143 ;
children, 145 ; Abigail Adams
cairn, 268 ; Myles Standish cairn,
262 ; granite industry, 263 ; Thomas
Crane, 270 ; removes from Quincy,
276.
Adams, Charles Francis, 2d, mayor
of Quincy, 145, 257.
Adams, Elizabeth C, 101.
Adams, Hannah, 63.
Adams, Henry (d. 1646), progenitor
of John and Sam Adams, 12;
settles in Braintree, 27; land
grant conflrmed, 43, 62 ; ancestry,
63, 66.
Adams, Lieut. Henry, 44, 66.
Adams, Prof. Henry, son of 0. F.
Adams, 141 ; his " History of the
United States," 144, 145.

Adams, Isaac Hull, lOl.
Adams, Deacon John (1691-1761),
father of President John Adams,
67 ; death, 73.
Adams, John (1735-1826), on inde
pendence, 2, 11, 39, 71 ; relation to
Sam Adams, 12 ; ancestry, 63 ; a
Puritan, 65; birthplace. 67; mar
riage, 76 ; on Writs of Assistance,
78 ; stamp Act, 79 ; home life, 81 ;
defends Capt. Preston, 83 ; ad
vanced views on independence,
84, 88; secures appointment of
Gen. Geo. Washington, 87 ; trium
phant advocacy of independence,
89 ; minister to France, 93 ; fur
nishes model of constitution, 94;
President, 96 ; fails of reelection,
97; last meeting with Lafayette,
100 ; death, lOl ; last message to
his fellow-citizens, 104 ; character,
106, 136 ; in the household of Ed
mund Quincy 172, 211 ; on Tutor
Flynt, 231, 243 ; founds Adams
Academy, 103, 277.
Adams, John Quincy (1767-1848),
aids Harvard College, 60; de
scribes his grandfather, 67 ; birth
place, 68 ; baptized, 81 ; on Penn's
Hill, 86, 107 ; character, 93, 106 ;
marriage, 110 ; author of Monroe
Doctrine, 116 ; President, 117 ;
heroic career as Eepresentative,
119 ; death, 120 ; how named, 158.
Adams, John Quincy (1833-94), pub
lic services and character, 140,
141 ; moderator of town meeting,
262.
Adams, Mrs. John Quincy, 42, 261.
Adams, John T., author of " Knight
of the Golden Melice," 25.
Adams, Joseph, son of Henry the
immigrant, 66; marries Abigail
Baxter, 67.
Adams, Joseph (2d), marries, 1688,
Hannah Bass, 67.
Adams, Louisa Catherine, 141.
Adams, Mary, daughter of C. F.
Adams, 141; marries Dr. Henry
P. Quincy, 146, 227.
Adams, Samuel, 12, 79, 82 ; radical

284

INDEX

ideas on independence, 84, 94; at
Lexington, 177.
Adams Street, 278.
Adams, Judge Thomas Boylston,
101, 102.
Adams, Warren W., 253.
Adams, Eev. Zabdiel, 172.
Agassiz, Mrs. Louis, 68.
Alabama claims, 138.
Alabama, Confederate cruiser, 132,
136.
Alden, Euth, 67.
AUeyne, Mary, 186.
American people, praised by Lafa
yette, 64.
Andros, Governor, 6.
Anderson, Luther S., 264.
Anderson, Luther W., 264.
Antinomian controversy, 32.
Barker, Henry, 266.
Barrett, Col. E. S., 268.
Bass, Hannah, 67.
Bass, Deacon Samuel, 34; his nu
merous oftspring, 150.
Beale, Abigail Adams, 180.
Beale, Benjamin, 186.
Belligerent rights, 129.
Bethany Congregational Church, 271.
Besant, Sir Walter, 260.
Black, Moses, 186.
Black's Creek, 260.
Boston Massacre, 82.
Bowdoin, James, 94.
Bradford, Gov., describes Thomas
Morton, 16; capture of Sir C.
Gardiner, 22.
Bradlee, Eev. Caleb Davis, D. D., of
Boston, 226.
Braintree, cherishes independence,
11 ; liberal movement in, 37 ; in
corporated, 43; named, 66; town
meeting on Stamp Act, 79.
Briant, Eev. Lemuel, liberal theo
logian, 38.
Bright, John, friendly to the Union,
131.
Brooks, Abigail B., marries Charles
F. Adams, 125.
Brooks. Peter Chardon, 125.
Brown, A. E., " John Hancock, His
Book," 224.
Bryant, Charles M., mayor of
Quincy, 257.
Bryant, Gridley, constructor ot first
railway, 264.
Eulkeley, Eev. Peter, of Concord, 60.
Billiard, Jabez, 225.
Bullock, Capt., Confederate agent,
133.
Bunker Hill, battle of, 86, 267 ; mon
ument, 268, 264.
Burr, Aaron and Dorothy Quincy,
218.

Burying-ground, 43 ; monument
erected in, by Hon. G. F. Hoar,
57 ; deed of Joanua Hoar scholar
ship dated from, 68.
Butler, Hon. Peter, occupies Quincy
Mansion, 189.
Byles, Eev. Mather, Boston wit, 186.
Cairn, to Abigail Adams, 257; to
Myles Standish, 262.
Canada, J. Q. Adams insists upon
its anuexation, 114.
Canning, George, 133.
Catholic Church, St. John's, 273.
Chamberlain, Mellen, on independ
ence, 2.
Chapel of Ease gathered, 38.
Charter of Massachusetts, 4-6.
Chesapeake, flred upon by English
gunboat, 114.
Choate, Eufus, "the last of the
Adamses," 139.
Christ Church, Episcopal, early
origin of, 272.
Church gathered at "'the Mount,"
34 ; liberal, 38 ; cradle of inde
pendence, 39 ; gift of J. Adams
to First Church, 103.
Churchill, Amos, 266.
Civil service, upheld by J- Q. Adams,
117.
Claflin, Eupert F., 253.
Clay, Henry, 112.
Cleveland, Pres., 141.
Cobden, Eichard, friendly to the
Union, 131.
Coddington, Wm., 27-30; church in
his farmhouse, 36 ; estate sold,
45.
Coddington's Brook, 43.
Compulsory municipal service in
Quincy, 73.
Corbett, Alex., Jr., quoted on Moses
Black, 187.
Corthell, W. G., 279.
Cotton, Mrs. Bridget, 66.
Cranch, C. P., poem written for
First Church anniversary, 40.
Cranch, Judge, 188, 273.
Cranch, Lucy, 188.
Cranch, Eichard, 40, 75, 158.
Crane, Albert, 271.
Crane, Benjamin F., 271.
Crane Memorial Hall, 143, 270.
Crane, Thomas, granite contractor
and son of Quincy, 270.
Crane, Mrs. Thomas, 271.
Crowninshield, Fanny Cadwalla
der, 141.
Dana, Eichard Henry, biography
of, 143.
Daughters of the Eevolution,
Adams Chapter, 69, 267.

KTDEX

285

Davis, Admiral Charles Henry, 141.
Davis, Evelyn, 141.
Davis, Dr. F. S.,276.
Davis, Jefferson, comment on Iron
clads building for the Confeder
acy, 133.
Davis, Mrs. Jefferson, admits alert
ness of minister Adams, 130.
Dawes, Harrison J., 188.
Decatur, Commodore, visits the
Quincys, 183.
Declaration of Independence,
adopted, 91 ; foundation of Mon
roe Doctrine, 116.
Dewson, Edward H., bounds the
training fleld, 268.
Dewson, Mrs. E. H., 279.
Dimmock, Dr. W. E., 277.
Diplomacy, American, 136.
Donnison, Mrs. Mary, 178.
Donnison, Wm., 225.
Donovan, Dr. S. M. 275.
Dorothy Q., of to-day, 145, 226;
Holmes', 148, 164, 198-208 ; Han
cock's, 148, 171, 172, 175,191, 208-
224; the flrst, 158; daughter of
Henry Quincy, 226; daughter of
Mr. Upham, 226.
Downes, Lieut, of National Sailors'
Home, 261.
Dudley, Dorothy, writes about
Dorothy Hancock, 218 ; describes
Aaron Burr, 220.
Dudley, Gov. Thomas, 22.
Dudley, Madam, rides with Judge
Sewall, 155.
Eastman, Mrs. A. B., 268.
Eastman, George, 269.
Eaton, Wm. H., 279.
Education, the "Quincy System,"
143.
Edwards, James, 273.
Edwards, Eev. Jonathan, grand
father of Aaron Burr, 220.
Ellsworth, Dr. S. W., 276.
Emerson, E. W., quoted, 31, 116.
Emery, J. H., 279.
Endicott, Gov., hews the maypole
at Merry-Mount, 16, 18.
England, sympathy for the Confed
eracy, 128 ; neutrality laws, 133.
Episcopal Church, planted early in
Quincy, 272.
Everett, Dr. Wm., tribute to Mrs. C.
F. Adams, 131 ; master of Adams
Academy, 278.
Fairbanks, Eev. H. F., ancestry of
Adams family, 63.
Fairbanks, Henry O., mayor of
Quincy, 257.
Fairfield, Conn., place of Hancock's
marriage, 177, 218.

Farrar, Prof. John, 60.
Faxon, Mrs. Annie E., 143, 274.
Faxon, Henry H., gives a park to
Quincy, 146 ; public services, 263,
264 ; horae of, 267.
Faxon, Henry M., 261.
Faxon, J. L., 279.
Federalists, 113, 114.
Field, George H., 68, 273.
Field, J. Q. A., 263.
Fifteen, Committee of, 252.
First Church, gifts to, 103, 146.
Fiske, John, cited, 88, 89.
Flint, Jacob, sexton of First Church,
26.5.
Florida, annexation of, 115.
Florida, Confederate cruiser, 132.
Flynt, Dorothy, 158, 193, 232.
Flynt, Eev. Henry, 48, 65, 60, 160, 159,
193.
Flynt, Tutor Henry, in Quincy man
sion, 163, 197 i life and character,
228  249
Flynt, Eev. Josiah, 158, 194, 232.
Flynt, Margery (Hoar), 168; death,
166, 193.
Fore Eiver Ship and Engine Co.,
260.
Forrest, the " Irish Infant," 83.
Forster, W. E., 131.
Foster, J. W., " Century of Ameri
can Diplomacy," 137.
Fourth of July, 91; celebration in
Quincy in 1826, 101.
Frankland, Sir Charles Henry, 148,
174, 210.
Franklin, Benjamin, Stamp Act, 8
Declaration of Independence, 91
visits Quincy mansion, 172, 178
gift of vines, 210.
Freeman, Capt. Isaac, of the Bethel,
169.
Free-Soil party, 127.
Fruitful vine, 149.
Gardiner, Sir Christopher, 14, 18-26.
Garey, Dr. G. W., 276.
Gerrard, Mr., on Sir Harry Vane,
35.
Gerry, on Trumbull's picture of the
signing of the Declaration, 92.
Ghent, treaty of, 114.
Ghosts, in Quincy mansion, 187.
Gilbert, Dr. John H., 274.
Gill, Geo. L., 252.
Gladstone, Wm. E., prophesies suc
cess of Confederacy, 130.
Gordon, Dr. John A., 274.
Gorges, Sir Ferdinando, 24.
Gould, Mrs. Benjamin Apthorp, 184.
Gould, EHzabeth Porter, 268.
Granite, Quincy, 263.
Granite Eailway Co., 264.
Greene, Mrs. D. B., 184.

286

INDEX

Greenleaf, Daniel, 188.
Greenleaf, Elizabeth, 188.
Greenleaf, Wm., 173, 273.
Grenvilles, 140.
Grove, Mary, companion of Sir C.
Gardiner, 19, 21-26.
Hale, Dr. E. E., on education, 142.
Half-way Covenant, 63.
Hall, John O., mayor of Quincy, 257.
Hallowell, Dr. H. C, 275.
Hancock, "Bishop," daughter of,
236.
Hancock, Eev. John, 69 ; describes
Judge Quincy, 159; sermon on
.Judge Quincy, 167.
Hancock, John, birth, 69 ; baptized,
72; birthplace, 103, 172, 178, 278;
courtship of Dorothy Quincy, 213-
223; death, 224.
Hancock, Madam Lydia, 177, 213-
223.
Hancock mansion, 215, 262.
Hancock parsonage, 172 ; destroyed
by flre, 178 ; site of, 278.
Hancock, Thomas, 70.
Hardwick, Chas. H., 266.
Hardy, Thomas, 220.
Harlow, Dr. J. F., 275.
Harod, Ann, 102.
Harvard College, and Joanna Hoar,
59 ; Tutor Flynt in, 236, 240, 243,
248.
Harvard, John, 59.
Hatch, Mary, 180.
Hawthorne, N., 15.
Hay, Secretary of State, his diplo.
macy, 137.
Henry, Patrick, 79, 80, 91.
Hoar, Bridget, marries Usher, 54.
Hoar, Charles, husband of Joanna.
48, 59.
Hoar, Judge E. E., interest in Jo
anna Hoar, 47; Joanna Hoar
scholarship, 67.
Hoar, Hou. Geo. F., ancestry, 48 ;
visits their English homes, 51 ;
erects monument in Quincy, 67,
193.
Hoar, Joanna (d. 1661), "great
mother," 47 ; descendants, 48, 194 ;
death, 56; lives with Judith
Quincy, 66 ; memorial to, 57.
Hoar, Joanna (d. 1680), marries
Edmund Quincy, 46 ; home of, 66,
147 ; death, 162.
Hoar, John, 48, 66, 60.
Hoar, Lavina, 61.
Hoar, Leonard, 48; president of
Harvard, 63 ; death, 64, 69, 193.
Hoar, Margery, 48, 66, 60, 168, 193,
195.
Hobart, Daniel, 152.
Holden, Walter B., 256.

Holmes, Eev. Abiel, 166, 206.
Holmes, Dr. O. W., letter about
Quincy mansion, 162 ; relation to
'^Dorothy Q.," 166, 191; letter
about "Dorothy Q.," 198, 204;
poem, 206 ; to Dorothy Q. Upham,
226 ; on Tutor Flynt, 229.
Hooker, Eev. Thos., company of,
27, 34, 65.
Hooper, Miriam, marries Henry Ad
ams, 141.
Hough's Neck, 261.
Howe, D. W., quoted, 5.
Howland, Chas. A., 268.
Hull, Hannah, marries Judge Sew
all, 44.
Hull, Isaac, 183.
Hull, John, marries Judith Quincy,
44.
Hull, Judith, death, 46.
Humphrey, Hon. James, 258.
Hunt, John, 152.
Hunt, Euth, 152, 156.
Hunting, Dr. N. S., 275.
Huntington, E. H. Mills, 180.
Hurst, Ann, 172.
Hutchinson, Anne, 33, 37.

Independence, American, 1-3 ; pow
er and meaning, 9 ; especiaUy
cherished in Quincy, 11; cradle
of, 39, 68 ; advocated by John
Adams, 39 ; anticipated by Judge
Quincy, 40 ; when born, 78 ; inevi
table, 84 ; Sam Adams on, 84 ;
urged by Abigail Adams, 89 ; tri.
umphant, 89 ; Declaration of, 91 ;
John Adams's last message on,
104.
Independence Day, 91 ; celebration
in Quincy, 1826, 101.
Industrial combinations and inde-
dence, 10.
Iron-clads built in England for the
Confederacy, 130.
Jackson, Edward, marries " Doro
thy Q., " 166 ; partner of Josiah
Quincy, 168, 185, 206.
Jackson, Mary, 186.
Jayne, Capt. C. P., 261.
Jefferson, Thomas, 3 ; no desire for
independence, 88; on speech of
John Adams, 90 ; reconciled to
John Adams, 101.
Jeffreys, Judge, condemns Lady
Lisle, 50.
" Joanna," tribe of, 168.
Johnson, Joshua, 109.
Johnson, Louisa Catherine, marries
J. Q. Adams, 109.
Keith, Harrison A., mayor of
Quincy, 267.
Kendall, Eev. E., 268.

INDEX

287

Kincaide, Henry L., 272.
King, Theophilus, 143, 253.
King's Chapel, 263.
Kuhn, Charles, 141.
Lafayette, Marquis de, praises
American people, 64 ; last meeting
with Pres. John Adams, 100.
Lawson, Thomas W., seven-masted
schooner, 260.
Lechford, Thomas, cited, 32.
" Lee at Appomattox," by C. F.
Adams, 143.
Lee, Eichard Henry, 90.
Lee, Mrs. Wm., 262.
Lexiugton, battle of, 1, 216, 219.
Leopard, English gunboat, flres on
Chesapeake, 103.
Library, Adams, 102, 143 ; Crane Me
morial, 143.
Lincoln, Pres. Abraham, birthplace,
69, 127.
Lincoln, Dr. Bela, 173.
Lincoln, Gen. Benjamin, 173.
Lisle, Lady Alicia, 49-52.
Lisle, Bridget, marries Leonard
Hoar, 49 ; H. Usher, 64 ; death,
55.
Lisle, Lord John, 49.
Livingston, Esther, 218.
Longfellow, H. W., poem on Sh: C.
Gardiner, 19, 25.
Lowell, James, on Tutor Flynt, 249.
Lowell, James E., cited, 122, 149.
Mclntire, H. F., 274.
McGrath, Patrick, 266.
Marsh, Charles, 276.
Marsh, Ed-win W., 252, 268.
Marsh, Joseph, 180, 273.
Massachusetts, defends her char
ter, 6 ; resists oppression, 8 ; origin
of name, 28 ; missed a great de
stiny, 37 ; constitution of, 94.
Massachusetts Fields, 28;
Massachusetts Historical Society,
57, 143.
Mather, Eev. Cotton, 64.
Mather, Increase, 54.
Mayors of Quincy, 257.
Maypole erected at Merry-Mount,
16-18.
Means, John H., 258.
Meeting-house, earUest built at "the
Mount," 36; Hancock's, 99; Stone
Temple, 103, 161, 164, 269.
Merry-Mount, revels, 15-18; be
queathed to John Quincy, 42, 261.
Merry-Mount Park, gift of C. F.
Adams, the younger, 146.
Miller, Geo. L., 266.
Miller, Dr. Ebenezer, 74.
Monroe Doctrine, J. Q. Adams au
thor of, 116.

Morison, Dr. James, 274.
Morse, John T., Jr., cited, 110, 120.
Morse, Joseph C, 277.
Morton, Eliza Susan, 182.
Morton, Thos.,' of Merry-Mount, 16-
18 ; quoted, 29.
Motley, J. L., 15, 26.
Mount Wollaston, 14-19, 35.
National Sailors' Home, 261.
Navy, U. S., inception of by John
Adams, 97, 141.
NeutraUty laws, England's inter
pretation of, 133,
New England farmers, 64 ; J. Adams
a typical man of, 66.
NeweU, Eunice, 226.
No license in Quincy, 254.
Nourse, H. S., 61.
Ogden, Mary, marries C. F. Adams,
141.
Otis, James, quoted, 4, 78, 82.
Packard, Colonel A. B., 263, 272.
Paine, Elizabeth, marries H. Ad
ams, 44, 66.
Paine, Moses, marries Judith
Quincy, 43, 66.
Paine, Thomas, "Common Sense,"
commended by Abigail Adams,
89.
Palmer, General Joseph, 178.
Parker, A. W., 276.
Parker, F. W., 143.
Parker, Captain John, at Lexing
ton, 1.
Parker, Eev. Theodore, on Pres.
John Quincy Adams, 113, 121.
" Patriot," the Quincy, 271.
Pattee, WilUam G. A., 263.
Pattee, W. S., 272.
Philbrick, Helen, 269.
PhiUips, Wendell, on Sir H. Vane,
34.
PhUlips, Wm., 181.
Pinkham, Geo. F., 253.
Point Judith, 46.
Poison, Mrs. Wm. E., 103.
Porter, Chas. H., mayor of Quincy,
257.
Portsmouth, N. H., Tutor Flynt's
journey to, 242.
Presidents' HiU, 99, 276.
Purchase, Thos., marries Mary
Grove, 26.
Quarries, Quincy granite, 263.
Quincy, cherishes independence, 12 ;
meeting place of liberals, 37 ;
named, 98, 168 ; given Ubrary by
John Adams, 103 ; other gifts, 146 ;
a city of the present, 250; town
meetings, 251 ; a city, 251, 265.

288

INDEX

Quincy, Abby PhiUips, 184.
Quincy, Daniel, marries Anna Shop-
ard, 152 ; a goldsmith, 156.
Quincy, Dorothy, Hancock's, 13,
171; of to-day, 145, 226; flrSt, 158;
Holmes's, 164 ; charm of the name,
191 ; account ot all the Dorothys,
192-227; sister of Tutor Flynt,
232.
Quincy, Edmund (the "immigrant,"
1602-35), settles at "the Mount,"
27; iu Coddington's farmhouse,
32 ; death, 37.
Quincy, Edmund (1627-98), marries
Joanna Hoar, 46, 60 ; life of, 147-
165.
Quincy, Judge Edmund (1681-1737),
early ideas of independence, 40 ;
Ufe of, 153-160; builds extension
to Quincy mansion, 160 ; death and
funeral, 167 ; marries Dorothy
Flynt, 196; letters to daughter
Dorothy, 200-202; builds L for
Tutor Flynt, 232.
Quincy, Squire Edmund (1703-88), oc
cupies Quincy mansion, 72; birth,
164; Boston merchant, 168; in
Quincy, 171; letter to Sir H.
Frankland, 174; retreats to Lan
caster, 213 ; sells mansion, 186.
Quincy, Edmund, marries Ann
Hurst, 172.
Quincy, Edmund, son of Col. Josiah,
172, 179.
Quincy, Edmuud, of Dedham, 184.
Quincy, EUzabeth (Wendell), 164,
177.
Quincy, Eliza Susan, cited, 40, 46;
letter to Dr. Holmes, 162 ; home
of, 184; letter from Dr. Holmes,
204.
Quincy, Esther, daughter of Ed
mund, 72 ; marries Jonathan Sew
all, 173.
Quincy, Hannah (b. 1736), daughter
of Josiah, 72, 172.
Quincy, Henry (1726-80), marries
Mary Salter, 171; daughter, 178;
Dorothy, 225.
Quincy, Dr. Henry P., marries Mary
Adams, 141, 145, 184, 227.
Quincy, Joanna (Hoar), marriage.
46, 65.
Quincy, John (b. 1689), on church
committee, 39; Pres. J. Q. Adams
named after, 81 ; Quincy named
after, 98; his publio services.
167.
Quincy, Col. Josiah (1709-84), 72 ;
marries Hannah Sturgis, 168; en
riched by capture of Spanish ship,
168; public services and death,
178.
Quincy, Josiah, Jr. (1744-76), pa-

' triotic services, 82, 83, 172 ; death,
181.
Quincy, Pres. Josiah (1772-1864),
president of Harvard, 60; de
scribes Abigail Adams, 95; career,
181-183 ; cited, 237.
Quincy, Josiah, mayor of Boston,
1896-99, 185.
Quincy, Josiah, son of Pres., b. 1802,
describes Hancock's church, 99;
public services, 183 ; witnesses
deed of Adams Academy, 277.
Quincy, Josiah Phillips, son of pre
ceding, 184, 280.
Quincy, Judith (d. 1664), life, 42-47 ;
settles in Braintree, 62.
Quincy, Judith (1626-95), 42; mar
ries John HuU, 44 ; Point Judith
named for, 45 ; obituary, 46.
Quincy, Norton, 93.
Quincy, Samuel, the Tory, 72, 172,
176, 179.
Quincy, Samuel M., 184.
Quincy, Sophia M., 184.
Quincy system, 75, 143.
Eadcliffe CoUege, Joanna Hoar
scholarship, 68.
EadcUffe, Lady, 69.
Eailway, oldest, 268.
Eandall, John C., 278.
Eeed, Timothy, 279.
Eeligion, Uberal, espoused by Vane,
36; defeated by "legaUsts," 36;
toleration in, advocated by CoL
John Quincy, 39; by Leonard
Hoar, 63.
EepubUcan party, origin, 127.
Eice, Harry L., 279.
Eice, Wm. B., gift of City Hospital,
146 ; residence. 279.
EusseU, Earl, 130, 134.
Salter, Mary, marries H. Quincy,
171,225.
Salsbury, 193.
Savage, Ephraim, 152.
Savil, Dr. EUsha, 71, 74.
Savil, William, 162.
Schenkelberger, A. F., 277.
Scott, Captiain James, marries
Dorothy Hancock, 224.
Sears, EusseU A, mayor, 257.
Sewall, David, companion of Tutor
Flynt, 243.
Sewall, Jonathan, 72, 173 ; a Tory.
176. ¦"
SewaU, Judge Samuel, marries
Hannah Hull, 44 : account of fu-
neral of Bridget (Hoar) Usher,
65 ; Daniel Quincy's marriage,
162; lodges in Quincy mansion,
163; disputes with Tutor Flynt,

INDEX

289

SewaU, Samuel, 173.
Shaw, John, 277.
Sheehan, Dr. J. M., 275.
Shipyards, 260.
Slade, James H., 253.
Slavery, opposed by J. Q. Adams,
118.
Slaves iu Quincy, 154.
Smith, Abigail, marries John
Adams, 76. 158.
Smith, H. W. 102.
Smith, Captain John, 28, 250.
Smith, Mary, marries Eichard
Crauch, 75.
Smith, Sarah, 102.
Smith, Eev. William, 75, 76, 158.
Souther, John, 260.
Spanish treasure ship, captured,
169.
Spear, Horace B., 263.
Spoils system, opposed hy J. Q.
Adams, 117.
Squanto, friendly Indian, 261.
Squantum, cairn to Myles Stand
ish, 261.
Standish, Myles, 15 ; at Merry.
Mount, 17 ; memorial cairn, 261.
Stedman, Dr. John, 225.
Stetson, Dr. .Tames A., 274.
Stetson, James H., 273.
Stockton, Eichard, 90.
Stoddard, Simeon, 56.
Storer, Hannah, 170.
Stuart, Queen Mary, 166.
Sturgis, Hannah, 168.
Sturtevant, T. L., 279.
Swithin Bros., 268.
Talleyrand, Charles M. de, 136.
Tavern, Hancock, 267; Brackett's,
272.
Taxation without representation, 7.
Teapot, of Tutor Flynt, 206, 230.
Thomas, Deacon, 260.
Thompson, Benjamin, 165.
Thompson, James, 267.
Titus, Mrs. N. V., 258, 262.
Town meetings, 3 ; in Quincy, 261.
Training Field, 251, 268.
Trumbull's painting of the signing
of the Declaration, 91.
Tyler, Wm. Eoyall, master of
Adams Academy, 278.
Tyng, Capt. John, buys Coddington
estate, 42.
Upham, Dorothy Q., 226.

Upham, 0. W. H., 226.
Usher, Bridget, 54, 66, 160.
Vane, Sir Harry, the older, 36.
Vane, Sir Harry, in Coddington's
house, 32 ; liberal leader, 36 ; goes
to England, 37.
Vassall, Leonard, 98.
Vining, Floretta, 269.
Virginia, instructs representatives,
79, 89, 90.
Wales, Mrs. Wm., quoted, 224.
Warren, Dr. Joseph, 82, 87.
Washington, Pres. George, birth
place, 69 ; appointment as general
secured by J. Adams, 87 ; praises
J. Q. Adams, 110.
Waterston, Mrs. E., 184.
Webster, Daniel, 125, 267.
Weddings, golden, of John, John
Quincy, and C. F. Adams, 99, 139.
Welch, Dr. John F., 272.
Wendell, EUzabeth, 164, 177.
WendeU, Geo. B., 259.
Wendell, John, 40, 164.
Wendell, Judge Oliver, 166, 186, 206.
Wheelwriglit, Edmund M., 269.
Wheelwright, Eev. John, in Cod
dington's farmhouse, 32; preaches
at " the Mount," 36 ; builds meet
ing-house, 36 ; banished, 37 ; me
morial tablet, 267.
Whicher, Thos., 279.
Whitefleld, Eev. Geo., 241.
Whitney, Mrs. Abigail, 103, 139.
Whitney, Capt. .Tohn, 104.
Whittier, John G., 25, 221.
Wibird, Eev. A., 71, 81, 168, 172.
WiUard, Solomon, 264.
Willet, Esther, marries Josiah
Flynt, 196, 232.
Willet, Capt. Thomas, mayor of
New York, 195, 232.
Wilson, Eev. D. M., 190.
Wilson, Eev. John, 33, 34; legalist
leader, 36, 280.
Winthrop, Gov., quoted, 3 ; on Mass.
charter, 6 ; Sir Christopher Gardi
ner, 23, 44.
" Wisdom Corner " in town meeting,
252.
Woodward, Dr. E., 146, 188, 260.
Woodward Institute, 189.
Wollaston, Capt, 15.
WoUaston Heights, 279.

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