All language subtitles for Episode 7 - Peacefield.eng

Good of you to come.

Our reunion has been
long overdue.

Yes, indeed.
Yes, indeed.

It's been
too damn long.

Thank you
for saying it.

Of course.

Abigail,
Benjamin has arrived.

- Thank you, sir, for coming.
- Mrs. Adams.

Nabby, Dr. Rush has
come to see you.

Mrs. Smith.

Please.

We will be downstairs
if you need us.

Your father has told me

of a certain complaint.

Would you
describe it for me?

I feel a hardness
in my right breast.

Does it cause you
discomfort?

There is great pain
sometimes.

Would you allow me

to examine you?

Of course.

- Would you excuse me for a moment?
- Yes.

Ah.

Where is Mrs. Adams?

Abigail?

- No no, Caroline.
- Please, sit.

- Come away. Come along.
- Uncle Thomas, let me see.

Help me to set the table.

Your daughter suffers

from a cancer
of the breast.

Merciful God.

The entire breast
must be removed.

Now from her account
of the moving state of the tumor,

it is now in a proper situation
for the operation.

Oh, good heavens.
Is there no other remedy?

I know of none
but the knife.

Now, my friends,

let there be no delay.

Here...

drink this.

Good.

Now lie down.

No, this way.

Mr. Harris.

Sally.

Yes.

I want you

to take the children
for a walk.

- Of course.
- Yes, madam.

Susanna.

- Abigail...
- William, come along.

We're going for a walk.

Come, my sweet.

Where is she going?

That's it.

Are you ready,
my brave girl?

Bite.

For God's sake, John,
sit down.

I have never seen
a patient

with so much fortitude.

She's resting
comfortably.

- Be strong, my friends.
- She is out of danger?

If it has not spread,

the cancer will likely
not return

- to trouble her.
- Can you be certain?

In the matter
of disease, no.

You must look
to Providence

and put your trust
in God.

Caroline,
eat more carrots, please.

Susanna.

- Good?
- Thank you.

Would you like to see what's
in the newspaper today?

Let's see, shall we?

Listen to this about our
esteemed president Mr. Jefferson:

"Of all the damsels
on the green

on mountain...
(music) Or in valley (music)

(music) A lass so luscious
ne'er was seen (music)

(music) as Monticellian Sally. (music)

"Yankee Doodle,
who's the noodle?

What wife were half so handy?
To breed a flock

of slaves for stock
A blackamoor's a dandy."

That's quite enough,
Thomas.

I cannot believe it,
not Mr. Jefferson.

If Mr. Jefferson
had not been involved

with his slave
Sally Hemings,

then why would he have paid $50
to try and silence Mr. Callender?

"Mr. Callender
reveals further

that while
vice president,

Mr. Jefferson encouraged
and secretly subsidized

the publication
of certain articles...

with the express
intention

of casting doubt
on the credibility

of his own president

the estimable Mr. Adams."

Abigail,
may I see that paper?

While I am bold as to say
that I taught Mr. Jefferson

everything that has
been good and solid

in his political conduct.

As for the rest...

Callender and Sally Hemings
will be remembered

as long
as Mr. Jefferson.

A stain on all of them.

No no, you are wrong, sir.
There you are wrong.

Mr. Jefferson's
character in history

can be easily foreseen.
Oh, yes.

His administration will be
quoted by philosophers

as a model
of profound wisdom.

Mine will be condemned
to everlasting infamy.

They will write

of the Alien and the Sedition Act
and of nothing else.

- Father!
- God!

- Oh Christ!
- Mother!

Abigail?

Now just what do you think
you are doing?

Oh hell.

Let that be a lesson to you.

I feel like
a prisoner out here.

Yeah.

And there's a letter
from John Quincy.

Is that all?

I should think
you would be happy

to receive a letter from your son
with news from Washington City.

Do not think that I do not know
what this means.

In some circles,
I am openly despised

and in others,
I am irrelevant.

John, I do not think

that anyone thinks
about us one way or t'other.

I can no longer
bear this ennui, Abigail.

I thought you would find
great relief...

in having to fill
your own days.

Why don't you pick up
your pen

and correct
people's misimpressions?

Hopeless.

No no, the essence
of our revolution

will be that Dr. Franklin
smote the earth

with his electrical rod

and out sprang
Washington and Jefferson,

that they together

conducted all
the policy negotiation,

legislation and war.

Mr. Jefferson
did you great harm, John.

I remember the place
in my heart where Thomas once sat.

That place is now empty.

At least he is not
the revolutionary we forget.

Now he's expanding
our territories

by brokering a deal
with Napoleon, huh?

I do not need to justify myself
on paper.

Besides,
Posterity will judge

as she sees fit.

What about these,
Father?

What? No no no.

Newspapers,

"The Aurora,"
April 1798.

Nasty piece of work.

It is in here somewhere,
Thomas!

This entire enterprise
is a bondage

to old age.

Some of my posterity
may wish

to see proof
of the odious abuse

of my character
in newspapers, pamphlets

and letters
for the past 30 years.

"The Aurora,"
April '98!

Keep searching.

Are you sure?

Yes.

We shall send
for Dr. Rush.

There is no need.

No need? Nabby!

Mother, there is
nothing he can do.

He has cured you once.
He can cure you again.

I am beyond
Dr. Rush's art now, Mother.

It is worse than before.
I can feel it.

You must
grant me something.

Anything.

When I am gone,

you must not bear
my husband ill.

Promise me.

Do not cry for me.

Our children
will want for nothing.

At the very least
I owe her memory that.

She never lost
her faith in you.

No.

I'm sorry she could not
live to see my success.

Our luck it seemed
had changed at last.

I am sorry too,
Colonel.

An admirable likeness...

Whose only purpose now
is to remind me

of my current state
of decrepitude.

When were they painted?

When Father was president.

They'd been sitting
in Mr. Stuart's studio

all this time.

The White House
should have them.

Mr. Stuart offered
to deliver them.

He was told neither
President Madison

nor anyone else living
in the White House

has any interest
in them at all.

We shall have them here

to remind us of all
we have accomplished.

- Well?
- Allow me to finish.

I have no illusions

that any sketches I leave
behind will be received

by the public
with any favor

or read by them with
any interest, you know?

John.

What possible use
could anyone have

for a seven-volume account
of so many impulsive,

tactless,

ill-considered things.

Rubbish!

If I had it to do
all over again,

I would be a farming,
shoemaking deacon

like my father.

Yeah, although I fear
I never would have won you.

No, I can't imagine you
a farming,

shoemaking
deacon's wife.

Old age is dark

and unlovely, Sally.

Still, you have much
to be happy about.

True.

In a week, you and Mr. Adams celebrate
another anniversary.

Yes.

54 years, is it not?

54 years.

There were times

as a young woman
when I despaired

ever having Mr. Adams
beside me.

Now...

we have been together
longer than we were ever apart.

Sally, that was thoughtless.
I am sorry.

I did not mean
to go on so.

My own sadness

has not diminished
the joy I take

in what you and Mr. Adams
have shared.

You are a lovely

and generous girl,
Sally,

and our lives are much richer
by having you with us.

Sometimes I fear I'm...

an unwelcome reminder
of...

of Mr. Adams's
disappointment in Charles.

Mr. Adams loves you
as I do.

And we'll wish
you here always.

Mrs. Adams?

Mrs. Adams.

Mrs. Adams!

Thomas!

Mr. Adams!

Come quickly!

Mrs. Adams, wake up.

Mr. Adams.

What are you talking...
what's the matter with her?

She won't wake.

Nonsense. Here.
There we go.

Abigail!

Abigail!

Oh, Jesus, God!

Come here.

Help me, Sally.

Come on.

There we go.
Inside.

- Come.
- Can you walk?

Abigail.

There we are.

Now there you are.

There we go.

There you are.

You'll see it.

Hydrangea.

Do you see it?

I brought you that.

- Oh, yes.
- Yeah, it's everywhere now.

Oh, John.

They've bloomed.

Yeah, you see?

I knew that you would
come back to me.

- John, John.
- I told that doctor

that you would
see me.

- I can feel it.
- No.

Never, no.

And I am amazed

I am the first
to depart.

I am not gonna
let you go.

I will not let you go.

We have no choice
in the matter, John.

Oh, John.

But I will be there

for you as they...

as they...
as they are now...

- for me.
- No, you will wait for me.

You will wait for me.
Abigail.

Abigail.

Don't go away
from me, my friend.

Don't go away from me.

Abigail, my friend.

Thomas?

Thomas.

I wish I could lie down
with her and die too.

I cannot conceive

that God would create
such a creature as her

to simply live and die
on the earth.

The longer I live...

the more I read,

the more patiently
I think,

the more...

anxiously I inquire,

the less I seem to know.

Is there anyone else
you wish me to notify?

There are so few
left alive

who know either of us.

What about Mr. Jefferson?

Surely, he will wish
to share your sorrow.

If I should receive
a letter from him...

I would not fail
to answer it.

Perhaps if you were
to write yourself...

The man did me and my
reputation great insult.

He honored and salaried

every villain he could find
who was my enemy.

Well...

that is why it is you

who must show
the magnanimity

of great minds.

I always considered
you and him...

the north and the south poles
of our revolution.

Some talked, some wrote
and some fought to promote

and establish it, but...

you and Mr. Jefferson...

thought for us all.

"My dear friend,

one trouble
never comes alone.

And at our ages,

we may expect
more and more of them

every day in groups,

and every day
less fortitude to bear them.

In the years
since our parting,

I have lost my daughter.

Now...

my dear wife of 54 years

has been
taken away from me.

And she goes to a country
where there will be no war,

nor envy, nor jealousy,

nor rivalry or party.

I am, sir,

your afflicted friend:

John Adams."

"Monticello, April the sixth,

1819.

My dear friend,

Tried myself in the school
of human affliction,

I know well and feel
what you have lost,

what you have suffered,
are suffering

and have yet to endure.

These same trials
have taught me

that for ills
so immeasurable,

time and silence
are the only medicines.

It is of some comfort
to us both

that the term
is not very distant

at which we are
to deposit our sorrows

and suffering bodies,

and to ascend
to an ecstatic meeting

with the friends
we have loved and lost...

and whom we
shall still love

and never lose again.

God support you
under your heavy affliction.

Your friend,
Thomas Jefferson."

"You and I have passed
our lives in serious times

and we have
suffered ourselves

to be the passive subjects
of public discussion,

and reaped animosity
and bitterness.

I am fixed
in my opinions

and too old
to change them,

but you and I
ought not to die

before we have explained ourselves
to each other."

"As long as there
is government,

there will be
differences of opinion.

Everyone takes a side

in favor of the many
or the few.

Nothing new could be
added by you or me

to what has been
said by others

and will be said
in every age."

"Whether you or I were right,

posterity must judge.

Yet, I ask of you,

who shall write the history
of our revolution?

Who can write it?"

"You ask who shall
write the history

of our revolution.

Nobody,

except merely
its external facts.

I prefer to look back
on those days

when Massachusetts
and Virginia

lived and acted
in perfect harmony."

"Monticello,

February 20th,

1825.

"My dear friend,

I sincerely congratulate you
on the high gratification

which the issue
of the late election..."

"...must have afforded you.

It must excite
ineffable feelings

in the breast of a father

to have lived
to see a son..."

Continue.

My dear,
would you mind?

"It must excite
ineffable feelings

in the breast of a father

to have lived
to see a son,

to whose education and happiness
his life has been devoted,

so eminently distinguished

by the voice
of his country."

Yes indeed.
Yes indeed.

Although, no man who ever
held the office of President

would congratulate a friend,
to say nothing of his son,

on obtaining it.

"Nights of rest to you
and days of tranquility

are the wishes I tender you
with my affectionate respects.

Thomas Jefferson."

Well well well well.

None of the letters I have received from
my friend in Monticello...

have ever meant as much
to me as that one.

Mr. Jefferson knows my heart

as well as any man living.

He writes the truth,
you know.

That boy over there
has made me

the proudest father
in America.

To President
John Quincy Adams,

the sixth President
of these United States,

and to President
John Adams

on his 90th birthday.

May we all hope
to achieve such longevity.

Hear, hear.

Hear, hear.

- You do not drink, Mr. Adams.
- I do not care to be reminded

that I am an old dotard.

Well, neither do we, sir.

Congress has grown
indolent and palsied

before their constituents

so I intend to take
a strong lead.

- Father?
- Hmm?

Are you listening?

Ah. Yeah.

Go on.

In my State
of the Union address,

I intend to propose
a strengthening

of the federal government.

We need to raise taxes.

This country's in dire
need of some decent roads,

canals...

a national university,

a department of the interior,

a national currency.

They will call you
a monarchist...

"King Adams II."

You move too fast.

There is no time to waste.

Ah.

You should look to your wife

for the guidance
that you seek, not me.

Your mother was always
my most faithful advisor...

and the wisest.

Congress have
commissioned me

to commemorate
the 50th anniversary

of the birth
of our proud republic.

My humble rendition

of this momentous scene...

for what could have
been more momentous

in the history
of our young nation

than the signing of the
"Declaration of Independence"...

will hang in the rotunda
of the Capitol.

I offer to you now
for your delectation

and, may I dare to hope,

your approval.

All dead.

Sir?

All dead...

the whole lot of them,

except for me
and Jefferson.

Yes, sir.

Does the painting
do you justice?

Mmm.

A shin piece.

- I beg your pardon?
- A shin piece, sir.

It's all...
all legs and ankles.

You know,
I... I am informed

that one of the greatest
talents of a painter

is the capability
to comprehend a large space.

Herr Rubens,
whose canvases

I always paused to admire

when I was staying in Holland,
was a master of this.

You, Mr. Trumbull,

are no Rubens.

Well, I do not claim
to be a Rubens, sir.

I would, however,
remind you that

Herr Rubens never painted

such a uniquely
American subject.

As to the painting's
singularity

I can offer no opinion.

But I will say this...

it is very bad history.

The likenesses have been
very carefully researched...

No scene such as
you depict here

ever took place.

There was not one
moment or one day

when all the delegates
from the Congress gathered

to record their signatures.

This is a matter of detail.

May I remind you, sir,

that we were
already at war?

Now, contrary
to your tranquil scene,

your subjects
were scurrying

in and out of Philadelphia
all summer long,

affixing their names
to Mr. Jefferson's...

hallowed parchment
whenever they happened to be in town.

You would not deny the artist
a certain... license?

Do not let our posterity

be deluded with fictions

under the guise
of poetical

or graphical license.

It is a very
common observation

in Europe,
Mr. Trumbull,

that nothing
is so false

as modern history.

Well, I would
hasten to add

that nothing is so false
as modern European history

except modern
American history.

In plain English, sir,

I consider the true history
of the American Revolution...

as lost...

forever.

I have some scruples
of conscience about...

whether I ought
to be preserved,

or whether it would be
charity of me to stumble.

Still...

still, I am not
weary of life.

Strangely,

I have hope.

You take away hope
and what remains?

What pleasures?
Do you follow me, Thomas?

Hmm?

It's getting late, Father.

Is it?

Let's go inside.

Come here, come here.

I have seen a Queen of France

with 18 million livres
of diamonds on her person.

But I declare

that all the charms
of her face and figure

added to all the glitter
of her jewels

did not impress me as much

as that little shrub...

right there.

Now your mother always said

that I never
delighted enough

in the mundane.

But now I find if I look at even
the smallest thing...

my imagination begins
to roam the Milky Way.

Rejoice evermore.

- What's that, Father?
- Rejoice evermore.

Well, it's a phrase
from Saint Paul, you fool.

Rejoice evermore.

Rejoice evermore!

Oh, I wish that had always been in my
heart and on my tongue.

Oh.

You know,
I am filled

with an irresistible impulse

to fall on my knees
in adoration right here.

Stop it.

Father...

Oh, if only my knees
would bend like they used to.

Father?

Father?

Come, it's time
for bed, Father.

- What?
- Let's get you to bed.

Sally! Sally!

- Come.
- I can't.

Yes. Come on, Father.

Come on.
Come, Father.

I can't.

I need to write a letter...

Are you comfortable?

- Thomas?
- Yes?

Tomorrow is the fourth, yeah?

Yes. It is, Father.

It was 50 years ago
that our nation was born.

I must write a letter
to Jefferson.

Father, no.

Tomorrow...
write to him tomorrow.

You can do it tomorrow.

Good.

No.

No, Father...
no, Father.

It's July the fourth.

It was 50 years ago today

our nation was born.

It's the fourth.

Yes, sir.

Oh.

Fetch the others.

Sally.

Is that cannon fire?

Father, it's only thunder.
It's just thunder.

Isn't that right, John?

Johnny?

Help me, child.

Help me, child.

Help me, child.

Abigail.

Abigail.

It is no matter.

You're mine.

It's time.

Thomas Jefferson.

Thomas Jefferson...

survives.

"My dearest friend,

Whether I stand
high or low

in the estimation
of the world,

my conscience is clear.

I thank God I have you

for a partner
in all the joys and sorrows,

all the prosperity
and adversity of my life...

to take a part with me
in the struggle."

"Should I draw you
the picture of my heart,

you would know with
what indescribable pleasure

I have seen
so many scores of years

roll over our heads...

with an affection heightened
and improved by time.

Nor have the dreary
years of absence

in the smallest degree
effaced from my mind

the image of the dear,
untitled man to whom I gave my heart.

You could not be,

nor did I wish to see you,

an inactive spectator."

"No, Posterity,

you will never know
how much it cost us

to preserve your freedom.

I hope that you
will make a good use of it.

If you do not,

I shall repent in Heaven

that I ever took
half the pains...

to preserve it."