Original subtitles

Four generations of one family. Their lives and causes reveal 150

years of American history.

I'm John Adams.

I am counsel to the accused.

Wait there.

You mean you've agreed to defend those murderers of our people? I have agreed

defend Captain Preston and his men.

The jury will decide if they're murderers. But I will do anything under

to secure their acquittal. Have you turned your coat to red, John?

Of course not.

I'm no friend to the crown.

But under the law, the accused men are allowed the counsel of their choice. And

Preston and his men have chosen me.

They must have a fair trial. John, of all the men I know in Boston, you have

least love for the English soldiers. Damn, we may call this killing a

in Boston, but the other colonies will say that Boston is in a state of

that mob rule holds sway here.

Unless these soldiers are given a fair trial, we will lose all the outside

support we've gained.

We may need that support in any future conflict with the crown.

Mr. Adams!

This way.

John Adams, successful lawyer, subject of George III of England, firm believer

in British law.

Because of that belief, he has just taken a most unpopular case, the defense

a group of British soldiers accused of killing five men in an unarmed crowd.

Boston citizenry, seething with resentment over presumed injustices by

British Crown and Parliament, Call it a massacre.

The soldiers call it self -defense.

An unpopular case.

A dangerous case.

Unwanted by John Adams, who has no sympathy for the defendants, but

strongly in their right to a fair trial.

He intends to see that they get it.

will hearken to the verdict as this court has recorded it.

You have been found not guilty of murder by this jury and are discharged by this

court herewith.

All save Matthew Kilroy and Hugh Montgomery who have been found guilty of

manslaughter. My Lord, my clients pray for the benefit of clergy.

Granted. It will be taken forth to be branded on the thumbs so that they may

never ask for mercy of this court again.

The jury is dismissed with the thanks of his court.

Court is now adjourned. All rise.

Well

done,

Mr. Adams.

You truly think so, Mr. Quintus?

Indeed.

A good day's work, I warrant.

Two of our clients escaping with nothing more than burned thumbs to show for

their ordeal. And six discharged as innocent.

A sentence of death against those soldiers would have been a foul stain on

honor of a judge. John, John, you've convinced the jury of that fact. Don't

squander your persuasive art on me. I use no art on that jury.

Nothing more than facts and evidence. Mr. Adams, we've won our case.

It's time to wish our clients well and go home.

Wish them well?

I wish the lot of them in hell.

But you believe them innocent.

Innocent of firing wantonly into a crowd, yes, but guilty of being British

soldiers sent here to enforce the crown's will.

Cold, Mr. Adams?

Why not put on your red coat?

I dare say it's warmer. It's lined with the king's gold.

Stand aside.

This court is reserved for patriots. Then it is open to me and my kin.

I understand I was only doing my duty. Yes, but is it necessary to do it so

well?

Never fear, the verdict will be forgotten in a month. All they'll

be those brutal soldiers who massacred the innocents on King Street. Sam Adams,

you know damned well what happened.

A Boston mob, drunk with whiskey and rebellion, attacked a lone British

before the customs house.

That mob was... Shh.

They will be remembered as martyrs, to be remembered whenever men speak of

liberty.

When will you learn mobs are not fit to rule kingdoms?

But surely they can overthrow them.

How dare they accuse you of supporting the crown?

They are patriots, Mrs. Adams.

What's a patriot, Papa?

Mary, this is no time to ask your father questions. No, my dear, if it's a fair

question, it deserves a fair answer.

Take equal quantities of civility...

Fear, fury, and gratitude.

Add revenge, malice, envy.

Infuse all this into the brains of a brutal, surly, ugly man.

And there you have your patriot.

But Mama told us you were the greatest patriot in Boston.

Johnny, Navi, you get ready for bed now.

I have medicine for your milk, John.

A new shipment of books arrived today from England.

More books?

The law books he wanted.

Oh.

Oh, cook's works.

Two pounds?

Oh, I must have learned to borrow books like other lawyers.

You are not other lawyers, John.

No, they build estates while I mope about with plaguey books.

filling my head with useless bits of law.

Mr. Adams, rest now. You have no call to condemn yourself. You have done what

your conscience demanded.

Indeed, and we are the poorer for it.

There's a grievous fault in me.

John, you have no faults.

Foibles, perhaps, but no faults.

What foibles?

Well, you will spy catastrophe in every event. Well, if I do, it is because it

lurks there.

Abigail, you have not seen what happens.

Whenever I try to serve the people of this town, my wishes prove impotent.

My efforts fruitless.

We have struggled for years to make a life here.

If we stay any longer, I shall be ruined. I shall sink into contempt and

obscurity. You will perish for want.

John, we prosper here.

We may not be rich, but we do not owe any man.

I shall die of Boston.

Are you ill?

Today in the court, I felt faint. I got on the street and I felt a stab in my

chest.

I could not get my breath.

You must take to your bed at once. I'll send for the doctor. No, I want no

doctor. I know my ailment.

It is the bad air of Boston.

Only my farm can cure me.

Very well, then. We shall return to Braintree.

No.

We're home, Abigail.

We're home.

Papa,

may I help you carry the wood?

You finished your lessons so early, Johnny?

Can I help you work the farm instead of lessons?

Oh, so you want to be a farmer like your grandfather?

Yes.

All that Latin prepares me for is to be a Roman. And since I will not be one, of

what use is it? Well, it drains the mind for law.

I hate it.

I want you to be a man of learning, Johnny.

Though I fear in our country there is a miserable prejudice against men of

education.

Papa, I make a poor figure at Latin.

My thoughts keep running after playing trifle.

I'll tell you a secret, Johnny.

When I was your age, I hated my Latin, too.

Did you truly?

But my father was anxious for me to go to college.

So when I told him I did not like study, he was quick to answer.

Very well, John, if Latin grammar does not suit you, you may try digging

ditches. That meadow yonder needs a ditch, and you may put by your Latin and

that. You were lucky.

Well, at first I thought it was a marvelous change.

But in two days, I discovered that digging ditches was harder than Latin

At last, I got my courage up to ask him if I could go back to my Latin. And he

agreed? Oh, he was glad of it.

And if I have since gained any distinction, it was owing to those two

labor in that abominable ditch.

Papa, is there nothing but Latin or the ditch?

Not in this life, Johnny.

John, when are you going to stop dancing this ridiculous brain -tree jig of

yours? Hmm?

Prancing back and forth in your farm in Boston, in your wanton pursuit of

riches.

Mr. Hancock, did you invite me to a public tavern to insult me?

No. To draw you out of your cowardly retreat.

You dare call me a coward because I will not join in your boyish pranks against

the crown.

Some of us did not inherit great fortunes from our uncles.

We are not free to spend our days as tavern rebels.

I have a law practice to attend to and a growing family who need... John, don't

imagine you can escape your troubles by abandoning ours.

How can you practice law in town or country after this?

What's this?

More bitter news from London.

What, another tax?

Far worse. Our judges are now to be paid by the crown rather than our own

legislature. And that will make them the king's tools, interpreting our laws to

suit the crown.

And soon no man in Boston will be allowed to piss without permission from

Parliament. Well, our people will never tolerate this. See what Justice Brattle

writes here. He claims that a judge paid by the crown would be more independent

and free the colonies of needless expense.

Oh, Brattle is an ass.

Any judge who accepts the Crown's money should be impeached by our legislature.

There's precedent for that in our English common law. Will you write that

Boston Gazette? No.

But you know more law than... I am under no obligation to publish my every

thought for the world. Mr. Adams, now, surely your conscience will demand that

you... Mr. Hancock, do not speak to me of conscience.

I am 37 years old and the father of four children who depend upon me for their

future.

I own nothing but my house and land.

I have a mere 300 pounds in savings, not much for my labors.

I must gallop after every circuit court from here to Maine to scrape up what

little business I can. I'm obliged to travel light, so I leave my conscience

safe at home in Braintree.

Damn, Mrs. Adams, it's... Freezing cold.

Now it's scalding.

There's no choice between freezing and burning.

Mrs. Adams, I've cut myself.

I fear that trip to Boston has unsettled you.

Nonsense.

You know what that imbecile Hancock said to me the last time I was in Boston?

What? He called me a coward in a public tavern.

He didn't. But he did.

Accused me of dancing from Braintree to Boston, Boston to Braintree, with no

thought but to get enough money to carry myself smoothly through the world.

Well, you mustn't dwell on the ravings of a lunatic.

Abigail, it was God's truth in the mouth of a madman.

In all Justice Brattle's researches hitherto, we have not been able to

either that the judges had their commissions for life or that the crown

authority to grant them for life.

Judges are the servants of the people and should be paid by the people.

But now the king proposes to pay the judges.

I have bestowed more labor upon Justice Brattle's writings in the newspaper than

was necessary to show their imperfection.

I subscribe myself, yours Justice Brattles, and the public's well -wisher

very humble servant, John Adams.

How much is too much?

Attacks on tea should not foment rebellion.

But to Boston citizens, King George's tax on British tea, petty token of

authority that it was, was indeed too much.

Therefore, be it hereby resolved that the people of Boston refuse to pay for

tea which was deposited into the harbor by the marauding band of Indians.

A blockade of Boston?

That is the Crown's answer. We are to be cut off from all supplies and food,

starved into submission until that damn tea is paid for.

Surely the other colonies will send aid.

Let us pray.

But first let us hope the other colonies understand our cause.

Throughout America, in every town hall and legislature, brave men have spoken

out in support of Boston.

proving that we have not been isolated, that we are not alone.

In each colony, representatives have now been elected to a Continental Congress

to be held in Philadelphia this September.

The purpose of this Congress will be to plan relief for Boston and a more

lasting accommodation with Great Britain.

It is my pleasure to announce the newly elected representatives from the colony

of Massachusetts.

Mr. James Bowden.

Mr. Thomas Cushing.

Mr. Robert Treat Payne.

Mr. Samuel Adams.

Mr. John Adams.

Two months in Philadelphia.

You've never been out of New England before.

Abigail, you need not remind me that I'm a provincial, unequal to the task

ahead.

My dear, you mistake my words.

I fear for your safety, not for your success.

If only I could go with you.

Mr. Adams, I must confess.

My desire to go with you does not spring only from my concern for you.

No?

I know I have sufficient duties to prevent my roving, but... Oh,

John, I have always felt a great inclination to travel.

I am curious to know what is valuable in this world.

I promise you, I will write you everything I see and feel.

You will see Philadelphia through my eyes.

Will you be content with that?

I will be content with a small part of the world.

If only it were free.

I did not know you were so passionate a patriot.

We women are obliged to conceal our passions from the world.

How fortunate for me that I'm not the world.

How worn this is.

We must get some new clothes in Philadelphia.

Nonsense. This is a Congress, not a fancy dress ball.

I hear the Southerners are quick to judge a man by his appearance.

Well, how would it look if I arrived wearing velvet and my fellow delegate,

cousin Sam, appeared in his worn -out homespun? Very well, Mr. Adams.

I do hope Sam has the grace to mend and fashion. Oh, Sam is no more capable of

looking fashionable than you are of looking pleased.

Try to put a cheerful face on my leaving.

I fear I shall make a wry face like swallowing magnesia.

But the dose will go down.

Mr. Adams, I must confess. You have already confessed your secret craving

travel. No, John.

I must confess my secret craving for you.

You will be careful.

I will be careful.

I cannot lose my much -loved friend.

It can't be.

You like it?

Where did you get those clothes?

An anonymous benefactor, wishing me to look prosperous in Philadelphia, sent

them round this morning.

A real gold handle, did you notice?

I was too dazzled by the silver buckles on your shoes. They also provided me

with enough money to live comfortably in Philadelphia.

And you accepted it?

Oh, John, how could I refuse such kindness? We've been voted our expenses.

to take money from a private citizen... John, the delegates from New York and

Maryland have great estates. The others are men of property.

If we were to appear...

Shabby, it would give a poor impression of Massachusetts.

Nothing personal, John, but you really should mind your dress. Such things

influence unthinking people.

My dearest Abigail, there is such a quick succession of new scenes,

and events turning up before me that I can't keep any regular account.

Philadelphia, for all its great size and wealth, is no Boston.

The morals of our people are much better.

Boston manners are more polite and agreeable.

Our spirit is greater.

Our religion superior.

Our persons handsomer.

We exceed in everything except patience.

Fortunately, this Congress begins tomorrow.

56 delegates, Southerners, New Englanders, radicals, and conservatives,

uneasy community to protest mounting injustice to their persons and their

purses. Talk of independence comes from New England lips.

but other delegates resist an irrevocable break with Mother England

king.

Gentlemen, we must establish certain rules for voting before we begin.

It appears to me that the most equitable way to vote would be according to

population. Thus, a sparsely settled colony would have a smaller vote in this

Congress... As the representative of the good people of Rhode Island, I must

remind this Congress...

that small colonies have an equal state with their larger sisters in any

decision reached by this Congress. The chair recognizes Mr. Patrick Henry of

Virginia.

Mind what he says, John. I understand he's the sister of the South.

More important, these Southerners could be our greatest ally.

Gentlemen.

I beg you to put aside all regional differences.

Why, since the crown is so fit to negate the laws that govern us, I say that

government is dissolved.

Where are your landmarks, your boundaries, your colonies?

No, we are in a state of nature.

The distinctions between Virginians, Pennsylvanians, and you Englanders are

more. I am not a Virginian, but an American.

Yeah!

Filling, isn't it?

No, frightening.

Fifty men, all strangers, jealous of one another.

Fearful, timid.

Skittish.

I fear they will never adopt our cause as their own. John, Congress doesn't

officially begin until tomorrow. Allow me to make some friends from

Massachusetts this afternoon.

How can you?

Watch me when the members take the vote on the opening prayer.

Quakers here, Anglicans there, Presbyterians, Congregationalists,

and all those Southern Episcopalians.

All of them wanting that prayer in their own private faith.

Lesson number one.

Since the Episcopalians outnumber the rest of us, and since we are not bigots,

Massachusetts can hear a prayer from any gentleman of piety and virtue who is a

friend of his country.

I understand that the Reverend Duchesne, an Episcopalian clergyman, is such a

man and among us.

Therefore, I request we beg the Reverend to... ...fight against them that fight

against me.

Take hold of shield and buckler and stand up for mine help.

Draw out also the spear and stop the way against them that persecute me.

Say unto my soul...

Nothing, darling. Go back to sleep.

We now expect our sea coasts to be ravaged.

Perhaps the very next letter I write will inform you that I am driven away

our yet quiet cottage.

We are told for truth that the enemy is now 8 ,000 strong.

Courage I know we have in abundance.

Conduct I hope we shall not want.

But powder, where shall we get a sufficient supply?

Indeed, General, if we ask only for our rights as English.

If we support a plan for a firmer union with the crown, we will dispel all fear

of independence and assure the king... Contempt!

Sir. Mr. Dickinson, we cannot relieve the stress of Boston with such schemes.

And what do you think will happen if England turns all of us adrift? We will

float, sir, safely together.

Nonsense. Civil war would break out at once.

One colony would seek to govern all the others, and that colony would come down

from the north like the Goths and the Vandals. Surely you do not think

Massachusetts would attempt to take over the leadership. Sir, you cannot deny

that your colony hanged the Quakers.

Over a hundred years ago, in a time of ignorance... You cannot see the Quakers

like laundry and expect the world to forget it. But ancient history had

to do with... Excuse me, gentlemen. Mr. Adams and I have a meeting with the

Carolina delegation.

John!

How many times must I warn you that we must stand silent and let our southern

friends do the work?

We are looked upon with too much suspicion to win in any argument with

conservatives. Are we to hold silence while our wives and children are in

danger? Yes, if that is the best way.

Dearest friend, since you left me, I have passed through a great distress of

mind and body.

A violent dysentery has become our common calamity.

Our little Tommy lies very ill now.

There is no abatement of his disorder.

Our house is now a hospital in every part.

My dearest, it is now almost three months since I left you.

My anxiety about you and the children has been extreme.

Your letters are delayed in reaching me, and I fear that mine do not arrive in

Braintree until the news is... cold and stale.

This evening, I dined with all the gentlemen of Virginia in an elegant and

magnificent chamber.

The meal, turtle soup and flummery, jellies, sweetmeats, trifles, whipped

syllabubs, floating islands, a dessert of fruit, raisins, almonds.

I drank Madeira at a great rate and found no inconvenience in it.

A general putrefaction seems to have taken place.

We cannot bear the house, only as we are constantly cleansing it with hot

vinegar.

I went to Mr. Powell's and had a most sinful feast again.

Creams, jellies, cheese, wine, porter, beer.

Everything which could delight the eye or allure the taste.

My dearest friend, have pity upon me, my beloved, for the hand

of God presses sore.

My dear mother, who came to see me every day when I was ill and take care of our

little Tommy, took the disorder and died.

I cannot overcome my too selfish sorrow.

All her care for my welfare endears her memory to me and heightens my worry for

her loss.

My heart is made tender by repeated afflictions.

It was never a hard heart.

Poor Abigail.

You will tender my condolences.

I would do better, Sam.

I would send her myself.

I'm going home.

But you cannot. Our work here is yet to be concluded.

What work?

Raising a glass of material of liberty while this Congress seeks new ways to

comfort the king? No, I will not stay here another day. John, tomorrow Mr.

Galloway puts forth his humble petition.

If approved by this Congress, it gives Parliament the right to tax us freely.

And everything we have fought for in Massachusetts would be lost.

John, we need your voice to defeat it. My voice? They laugh at my Yankee speech

and my zeal. Yes, they laugh, but they listen.

John, you have managed the most impossible task.

You are ridiculous and you are respected.

Thank you. John, we've led them further than they ever dreamed they would go.

They voted for a strong militia, taxes for our own treasury.

The king's judges, disowned by this Congress, the acts of Parliament ignored

it. Now they wish to retreat.

It is up to you to make them go forward.

Gentlemen, in every government there must be a supreme legislature.

The regulation of our trade must rest somewhere.

And it can, in truth, rest only with Parliament.

We must admit this much in our petition to the King.

To deny it,

is to light the flames of war.

Be warned, gentlemen.

It could rage for 20 years and end in our subjugation rather than our

liberation.

Massachusetts and the town of Boston are now struggling in the common cause of

American freedom.

Mr. Galloway's humble petition would betray that struggle.

And for what purpose?

to placate a king and a parliament who have shown us they do not understand

humility, that only resistance can reach their understanding.

Gentlemen, if you fail to support our struggle today, it is not only the cause

of Massachusetts which you will abandon, but future generations of Americans.

Done, John.

Galloway's plan defeated as we hoped.

One vote, Sam, not much of a victory. Lesson number two, John. In politics, a

small victory is worth any number of grand defeats. Well done, Mr. Randolph.

You've earned your smile today.

Mr. Henry, if I smile, it's because I'm going home.

In your letters, I thought it had all gone to ruin.

Where's the drought you wrote up?

We've lately had a charming rain.

The fences need mending, though.

What of the hired man? Why didn't he fix it?

Oh, Isaac is far too busy drilling in the militia.

All the local men have caught the military fever. Even the schoolmaster is

to join.

Where are the children now?

Watching the militia drill.

Oh, Mr. Adams, how sorely I have missed you.

Pray attend the child carefully, Mr. Adams. She has toiled over this piece

weeks.

Is she any gift for music?

Of course she is not. She is our child.

Though she may lack in music, she exceeds in zeal.

Very well, Nanny.

Call the Liberty Song, Papa.

It's all the rage from here to Boston.

But there's a man outside who asked for Papa.

Abigail,

a

militia in Concord has fired on the King's troops.

and the troops have run away.

They were not rabble, Mrs. Adams. They were the best of men defending their

homes, fighting as Americans.

Oh, my God.

What will you do, John?

Pray God I can join them.

John, you cannot.

You are not fit to be a soldier. Your eyes are... Please do not recall my

weakness when I now need all my strength.

They will need organizers and lawmakers in Philadelphia.

Will the other colonies send aid? Indeed, now they will send aid. Not by

hundreds, but by the thousands. The British will send 20 ,000 troops. They

hang everyone. Please, please, Mrs. Adams.

I am a warrior by birth. You are merely one by marriage.

Allow me to carry all the family fears to Philadelphia. Abby, rest easy.

If I am hanged, it will be such a splendid company.

Oh, Nappy, it was a lovely song.

I trust I'm not disturbing you. No, not at all.

I'm looking for a list of necessities that Mrs. Adams sent.

Since the blockade, she cannot get them in brain change. She asked me to bring

them home when I reached us.

There was thread, needles.

Where is that damn book? John, I do think there are graver matters before

Not for me, if I come home without them.

You read this latest report from our army in Massachusetts?

Certainly. It's clear that old General Ward must be replaced.

He continues to lose battles.

Indeed, but by whom?

I was thinking of putting myself forward for the post.

You, John?

Is there another man in this Congress who has fought so long and so well

the British?

John, it is one thing to lead a mob of Boston patriots in the streets, quite

another to command an army in the field. John, I know armies. I understand

military tactics and...

Strategy? I've read Caesar's campaigns.

Hannibal crossing the Alps. Hannibal?

John, isn't it enough for you to be the president of the new Congress? I'm

wasted here, Mr. Adams.

I must have command of our army. Dammit, Mr. Hancock, we have a country to

defend. This is no time to scramble after rank and honors like apes after

Oh, here it is.

Thread pins. That was it, pins.

Are you suggesting that I want this... John, John, if we truly want this

Congress to adopt our army in Massachusetts...

Shouldn't we appoint a southerner? Never. A Yankee militia would refuse to

orders from a southerner. Well, they damned well better.

We can't afford a northern and a southern party.

Besides, the habit of command sits easy on those southerners. They are raised

from childhood to be... To hunt foxes, not Englishmen.

John, I'm the only man here who was qualified to command.

I've experience in fighting the English, an independent fortune, a talent for

leadership, and the oldest friend of John Adams.

I do expect that you will do your duty.

Gentlemen, there is great danger in procrastination. If Congress does not

support our army in Boston, that army will disintegrate.

Therefore, I propose that a new general be appointed by this Congress to assume

command of the army in Boston.

There is one man who is splendidly equipped for this high office.

A gentleman of independent fortune, great talent, and impeccable character.

A gentleman from Virginia.

George Washington.

My dearest friend, this is Saturday, June 17th. The British began their

bombardment of Charlestown.

Now the town is in ashes and few survived the battle.

Many, fearing that nearby Boston will soon be set afire, have fled the city

its terrors.

As I view the acts of man in this time of undeclared war, I am more and more

convinced that man is a dangerous creature.

I fear that power, whether vested in the many or the few, is ever grasping.

Like the grave, power cries, give, give, and the great fish swallow

up the small.

When I consider these things, I feel anxious for the fate of our people.

What is the Congress doing? When will they adopt our cause as their own?

Were Abigail in this Congress, they would take action. We have wasted three

whole days debating another damn petition to the king.

Have they no sense, no feelings, no passions?

Oh, most splendid speech, Mr. Adams.

I fear if we debate much longer, all of Boston will be in ashes.

Say.

You cannot expect 13 clocks to chime all at the same time.

In a few weeks... In a few days, Dr. Franklin, my family may be driven from

their home. In a few weeks, this Congress may be forced to flee

More speeches, Mr. Adams?

Pray, is there no end to your store of rhetoric?

Mr. Dickinson, I will cease my speeches when you end your efforts to petition

the king.

All you do is encourage the belief that we lack the will to fight. If you don't

agree with our efforts to make peace, we will carry on in our own way. Your

petition is a measure of imbecility.

Fortunately, sir, you are not the final judge of its merits. No, Congress must

judge. And if they pronounce against me, I must submit.

But if they pronounce against you... They will not.

I know the temper of this Congress.

Believe me, Mr. Adams, should you ever speak out in a temperate fashion, I

be the first to applaud you.

Mr. Dickinson, the day that you applaud me, I will know I have said something

very foolish.

Oh, my dear Abigail,

you ask if every member feels for us. Every member says he does, but most feel

more for themselves.

Here you will find men who are timid, men who are selfish, men on whose

calloused hearts nothing but money and interest can make an impression.

Men who think a few barrels of flour are more important than a thousand lives,

other men's lives.

A certain great fortune and piddling genius, John Dickinson.

has given a silly cast to all our doings. We should have had in our hands

month ago the foundation of a new government, to have raised a navy,

an army, but they continued to delay. Mr. Dickinson, believe me, sir, this

letter was not meant for public view. I am certain of that, Mr. Hancock. Mr.

Adams was writing in private to his wife.

He never dreamed the letter would be captured by the British.

Nor that they would have the cunning to publish it. May I, sir?

No mortal tale could equal the behavior of these delegates.

Their fidgets, their whims, their vanity.

Why, the ignorance of some of them would try... Good morning, gentlemen.

Don, how could you do this to us?

Mr. Hancock, I did not put right... What we both know is true. And you have

destroyed whatever use you might have been to our people in this Congress. The

letter was a little intemperate. Do you think these men will rally to the cries

of Massachusetts after he has slandered them before the world? Mr. Adams!

When you do write the history of this Congress, pray put me amongst the

fidgeters and the whimsical rather than the vain and the ignorant.

Dr. Franklin, if I gave offense, none was intended.

Sir, you gave offense.

And there is but one way to undo this wrong.

Apologize to the Congress?

No, sir.

You must accept the apology of the Congress.

Gentlemen, do not read the private letters of a man to his wife.

I fear we have no more green tea.

Well, I've never tasted a better soup.

You look very tired, John.

I fear all your work for the Congress has not been good for your health.

Well, your labors here seem to improve you.

You know, you're very much admired in Philadelphia.

I am?

When Dr. Franklin met you on his way down from Boston.

He was most agreeably impressed.

Indeed.

He said you were the most accomplished lady he had met in New England.

Down, Vanity.

Vanity?

You think me vain?

If so, I was merely jesting.

If I am vain, I preen before cows. There is little else for me but this farm and

its labors.

Senses need lending.

Pastures must be plowed.

The children's lessons must too.

And food.

Food bears so great a price. If it is not made at home, it cannot be got.

All I think about is grain.

Grain.

And where am I to get coffee, flour, pepper?

of the pins I asked for.

Children's clothes are a disgrace.

I have a sore on my middle finger.

I'm so lonely here I could cry.

Do you know in the 13 years that we have been married, less than

half of that time have we been together?

I sometimes feel that my heart like your clothes will go to rags without love

and attention.

remembered my plans.

Johnny, I trust you will study your French in my absence.

Yes, Papa.

I feel my lack of education every day, particularly in the French language.

Papa, must I learn it too?

Certainly, since you were to be a statesman like your brother.

Shall the baby perfect his French too, Mr. Adams?

It would be well if he mocked at its rudiments.

If we suffer their minds to creep and grovel in infancy, they will creep and

grovel all their lives.

Remember, set your attention on great and glorious deeds.

Root out every evil.

Weed out meanness, scorn injustice, cowardice, falsehood, self -interest.

What? That was in your last letter, Papa.

Papa, if we cannot go to Philadelphia with you today, may we ride upon your

horse?

Very well. But be careful.

Now, be careful.

They do like to sit upon my horse.

It seems to improve their posture.

They like to play at being their great hero.

General Washington.

This committee of ours must do more than just sit.

We were appointed to declare for independence.

Let us make that declaration before the British overwhelm us, sir. Mr. Adams,

the colonies will stand firm and united against their enemies. Rest assured of

that. I think not, Mr. Jefferson.

When the volunteers from Connecticut will have no men from Massachusetts in

their corps.

Massachusetts despises all Rhode Islanders. The troops from New York and

Pennsylvania would rather fight each other than the enemy.

And your Virginians are no better. They refuse to fight beside freed Negroes.

No, sir, we must declare for freedom and confederate or we are lost, Mr.

Jefferson. I confess I'm confused, sir.

Since you're known for your eloquence, why ask me to draft this document?

You've been a member of our Congress for about a year, and you have not yet said

more than three sentences in public.

But you have the reputation of a masterly pen. You write with true

while I have none of it. I disagree, sir.

I've seen the power of your arguments when you debate in the assembly.

Another reason for you to make the declaration.

I have never held my tongue in public.

When a man outtalks his opponent, he often ends up with enemies.

You have many friends here. Oh, no, sir. I'm thought obnoxious.

Were I to draft this declaration, it would be... Three months in revision.

We do not have the luxury of time, Mr. Jefferson.

You can write it in a few days, and we can win the vote within a month.

If ever a man deserved to write this statement, it's you.

You're quite right, Mr. Jefferson.

But I beg you, let's stop all this discussing.

Please, hesitate no longer, but begin your work at once.

My dear Abigail, time has been given for the whole people maturely to consider

the great question of independence and to ripen their judgments, dissipate

fears, and allure their hopes, so that the whole people in every colony of the

Thirteen have now adopted it as their own act.

This will cement the union.

You will think me transported with enthusiasm, but I am not.

I am well aware of the toil and blood and treasure that it will cost us to

maintain this declaration and support and defend these states.

Yet through all the gloom, I can see the rays of ravishing light and glory.

I can see that the end is more than worth all the means and that posterity

triumph in this day's transaction.

This day of July 1776 will be the most memorable in the history of America.

It ought to be commemorated as the day of deliverance, from one end of this

continent to the other, from this time forward forevermore.