USA > Massachusetts > Essex County > Andover > Andover: symbol of New England; the evolution of a town > Part 14
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In the Kittredge family were seven successive generations of doctors, all of them influential professionally, socially, and finan- cially. The fact that they, like the Phillipses, lived so well, with servants enough to staff such a mansion, is indicative of the grad- ual change which had taken place in Massachusetts mores. In his analysis of New England in the eighteenth century, James Trus- low Adams has said:
The generation of colonists . . . from 1730 to 1760 was particularly rich in experience. It was a time of changing social customs, of wars, of religious questionings, and of the setting free of thought. What im- presses us most in studying it is the increasing variety and interest in
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the content of colonial life. New standards are introduced. Wealth replaces real or hypocritical "godliness" in determining a man's po- sition in the community .... It is a time of rapidly expanding ener- gies, and those mainly in secular lines.
All that is said here is illustrated in the development of An- dover. A considerable number of young persons at a susceptible age had, through war, come into contact with a wider world and had returned to tell about it. The steady improvement in com- munications had brought the villages into closer contact with one another and with the capital. There was a wider distribution of wealth, such as always occurs when enterprise is uninhibited. New houses, like those of the Phillipses and the Kittredges, were giving the countryside an English look. Households were run on a more elaborate scale, with silver plate and mahogany furniture and here and there a family portrait. It was a period of slowly increasing leisure for the successful, with the culture which that creates.
Intelligent people were also doing more thinking-about autocracy in church and state, about the relationship of the British colonies with the mother country, about the desirability and possibility of complete political liberty in a province where only one-fourth of the adult males possessed the franchise. Much was fomenting in the minds of men; and the movement towards revolution was the consequence not only of a natural resentment of British tyranny but also of a hope for personal and national freedom.
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CHAPTER XIII
The Revolution
T o the Revolutionary War Miss Bailey, in her Historical Sketches, devoted one hundred and eighteen pages, approxi- mately one-fifth of her book. Fortunately for future historians, she brought together a vast amount of hitherto unpublished ma- terial, including lists of committees, muster rolls of military com- panies, and extracts from public documents and intimate diaries. Most of these items, so valuable for the complete record, need not be duplicated here. Thanks to her, however, the words and deeds of Andover citizens during the Revolution are as well known as those of the residents of any township in the Common- wealth. And her story is as interesting as it is complete.
Up to the Revolutionary period Andover's chief distinction among interior Massachusetts towns lay in the two Bradstreets, Anne, the poet, and her husband, Simon, the administrator; in the shame and heroism of the witchcraft delusion; and in the military exploits of the three well-publicized Fryes, Chaplain Jonathan, Colonel James, and General Joseph. The two last, as we have noted, had a share also in the Revolution. But it was more particularly a time when new figures took, or were given, the stage-and held it.
We need to be reminded, moreover, that Andover had numer- ous taxpayers who made no speeches, served on no committees, and enlisted in no wars, but in the aggregate, although living quite simply, constituted what we call public opinion. In re- lating the town's evolution, we may have said overmuch about "leading" citizens-the Abbots, Fryes, Phillipses, and Stevenses -and neglected the average man whose approval had to be se-
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cured before policies could be proclaimed by the town fathers. Before the Revolution reached its climax, there must have been much informal discussion before and after church and in the fields and taverns. Because we read so little about these relative- ly obscure residents we must not underestimate their power. A candidate for office had to follow trends if he hoped to be elected. Not many Andoverians lined up with the fiery agitators, like Samuel Adams, but they could be identified quite early as "To- ries" or "Patriots." The leaders were not at first inclined to urge extreme measures, and the average voter was disposed to tem- porize, if only for his own good. The crystallization of a working philosophy was a somewhat slow process, accelerated by foolish acts of the British cabinet. When crucial decisions had to be made, Andover displayed that precious Yankee attribute, com- mon sense. The hour came when, as a practical matter, separa- tion from the too tyrannical mother country seemed both expe- dient and wise.
It must be emphasized too that Andover was not a true de- mocracy. Many adults could not vote. The indentured servants and the colored slaves had no voice in community affairs. The Revolution was not a social cataclysm or an uprising of the prole- tariat, but a colonial revolt. It did not remove the restrictions on Roman Catholics or atheists, on the unorthodox or even on the poor. It did not offer those without property either more privi- leges or more opportunity. These inequities were adjusted later by peaceful methods under the law. Perhaps the promulgation of the Declaration of Independence did clear the way for later social reforms, but only indirectly. The issue settled at York- town was national, not individual, freedom.
The reactions in Andover to British punitive measures were somewhat slower than those in the coastal towns immediately affected by them. In January, 1765, only two years after the Treaty of Paris, Parliament passed the so-called Stamp Act, which evoked resentment throughout the colonies. Although it was not to go into effect until the following November, protests
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began early; and on October 21 the town of Andover, "legally assembled in town meeting," instructed Esquire Phillips, its rep- resentative in the General Court, to express the unwillingness of its citizens to submit to any internal taxes imposed by Parlia- ment. It is significant, however, that the voters in the same breath deplored any "unlawful acts of violence upon the persons and substance of his majesty's subjects in this province." Al- though Andoverians were greatly disturbed over British policies, they felt that force was not the proper answer.
Esquire Samuel Phillips was the town's representative in the General Court during most of the sessions from 1759 to 1771. Although unmistakably a patriot, he was less inclined to extreme measures than some of his more ardent constituents, including his son. There was, however, no articulate Tory group in An- dover, and on vital issues the townspeople stood together. In those days, Esquire Phillips tried to keep on good terms with both sides. On May 28, 1772, His Excellency, the Governor, sent down to the House of Representatives, asking that John Han- cock and Samuel Phillips, Esq., two members who had just been chosen councillors, come to the Executive Chamber "that they may take the proper oaths and their seats at the Board." Then, and all through the ensuing war, the elder Phillips was in good company.
Although leaning then, as always, towards conservatism, the town could not resist the sweep of events. In May, 1768, as chair- man of a committee which included the familiar names of Abbot, Foster, Fry, Holt, and Osgood, Esquire Phillips presented a re- port recommending that the inhabitants "by all prudent means endeavor to discountenance the importation and use of foreign superfluities, and to promote and encourage manufactures in the town." Following the so-called Boston Massacre, the town voted to sustain Boston in "repelling tyranny and oppression, and es- tablishing those rights for themselves and country which they are entitled to as men and as Englishmen." The use of the word "Englishmen" in such a resolution indicates that Andoverians
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still regarded themselves as in the same category as their British relatives. At this point compromise and conciliation still seemed as possible to them in America as they did to Edmund Burke in England. But in Boston the radicals were rapidly taking over, and in Andover, Esquire Phillips' young son, the only one of his seven children to reach maturity, had reached the conclusion that a separation was inevitable.
Born on February 5, 1752, Samuel Phillips, Jr., was a delicate, lonely, and precocious child who had few companions. At the age of thirteen he entered Dummer School, recently established at South Byfield, where he formed a friendship with Eliphalet Pearson, son of a Newbury farmer. He went on in 1767 to Har- vard, where he was a faithful, indefatigable student, afflicted with an introspection which at times seemed almost morbid. After graduating from college in the Class of 1771, he returned to Andover as his father's business partner. In the spring of 1773, when he was not yet twenty-two, he was elected town clerk and treasurer in place of his father, who had filled these offices con- tinuously for the previous fourteen years. Meanwhile his grand- father, the Reverend Samuel Phillips, who had taken little part in the disputes with Great Britain, had died on June 5, 1771, at the age of eighty-one. The old order was passing, to be super- seded by a new colonial mood and purpose.
Once settled in Andover and married to Phoebe Foxcroft, of a well-to-do Cambridge family, Phillips became prominent in local affairs, while his father, not too unwillingly, slipped into the background. Soon the son was serving on committees and be- ing trusted by his neighbors as if he had stepped directly into the shoes and responsibilities of his father and grandfather. As an undergraduate at Harvard he had delivered an oration on "Liberty," in which he had said, "Let this truth be indelibly en- graved on our breasts, that we cannot be happy without we are free." He spent his life in amplification of this theme through various forms of public service.
Esquire Phillips was succeeded in 1772 as representative in
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the General Court by Moody Bridges (1723-1801), who had been an adjutant colonel in the French and Indian War. A flamboyant and irrepressible personality, he had a reputation for fervid, though somewhat vague, oratory. He was a delegate from An- dover to the First Provincial Congress, in September, 1774, at Salem, as well as a member of nearly every important local com- mittee. As younger men came to the front, his influence waned, but he was throughout the war a valiant supporter of the patriot cause. The epitaph on his tombstone in the North Parish bury- ing ground gives him a good character:
He was a man eminently useful in his day He lived, beloved, revered, and died greatly Lamented by all his family & acquaintances
An Andover "Committee of Circumspection," elected in June, 1774, included Bridges, as chairman, together with Sam- uel Phillips, Jr., the veteran Colonel Joseph Frye, nine Abbots, three Osgoods, two Holts, two Fosters, and several other reliable citizens. These undertook to preserve morale through a difficult period of strain and alarm. One of their duties was "to embrace all convenient opportunities by precept and example to incul- cate and urge upon the inhabitants the importance and necessity that each individual employ his influence to discountenance ev- ery practice that may appear unfriendly to the prosperity of the community." This was a large order, but it was a large commit- tee! Men and women who recall the dubious days before the United States entered World War I in 1917 and World War II in 1941 will have little difficulty in imagining what took place in the Andover of 1775, when the necessity for preparedness was being emphasized by the ablest citizens and when the entire population, under their stimulus, were considering ways and means of getting and staying ready.
The shutting of the port of Boston in 1774 and the occupation of that city by four regiments of British regulars led New Eng- land towns to proceed more rapidly with preparedness measures.
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In Andover, as in other places in Massachusetts, veterans of the French and Indian War were a natural nucleus for military units. Foremost among the leaders was a man bearing the dis- tinguished name of Samuel Johnson. A lieutenant during the wars with the French, he was named as captain in the list of members of the Committee of Circumspection, and in the emer- gency of 1774 was promoted to a colonelcy and assigned as "first officer" of what was called "the 4th regiment of militia in the County of Essex."
In late January, 1775, Johnson enlisted in the North Parish fifty able-bodied, effective citizens, more than a third of whom were said to be "heads of families and men of substance and probity." A few days later he enrolled a similar group of forty- five recruits in the South Parish. This action would not have pleased his British Tory namesake, the Great Lexicographer, who is reported to have said of Americans, "They are a race of convicts, and ought to be thankful for anything we allow them short of hanging."
These two companies, the first under the command of Cap- tain Thomas Poor and the second under that of Captain Ben- jamin Ames, both officers elected by their men, were in the regi- ment of the experienced Colonel James Frye throughout the "Lexington Alarm." In the engagements of April 19, at Lexing- ton and Concord, no Andover company participated, but An- dover soldiers under their commanders, summoned by the alarm, marched from their town towards the scene of action and, finding the enemy in retreat, took the road in pursuit. Lieuten- ant Benjamin Farnum, of Captain Ames's South Parish com- pany, kept a Diary, the entry from which for April 19 reads in part as follows, spelling and all:
This day, the Mittel men of Colonel Frye's regiment were Alarmed with the Nuse of the Troops marching from Boston to Concord, at which Nuse they marched very quick from Andover, and marched about 5 miles of Concord, then meeting with the Nuse of their re- treat for Boston again with which Nuse we turned our corse in order
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to catch them. We retreated that day to Notme but we could not come up with them. The nit coming on, we stopped; the next day we marched to Cambridge.
After this march, the Andover companies went into camp at Cambridge, where they drilled every day in preparation for a possible battle. Of the many interesting items in the journal of Private James Stevens, of Captain Poor's company, the most ex- traordinary is that for May 10:
We got our breakfast & then went on the pread in the morning & Capt. Poor come out & spok very rash concerning our chusing a sar- gent & said that we had no right to, which displeased the soldiers very much; they went up & did no duty that Day; about seven o'clock we praded & Capt. Poor come & said that he was misunderstood & the company settled with him by his making som recantation.
The lack of rigid discipline and the complete informality in the relationship between officers and men are characteristic of the volunteer militia of the Revolutionary period. But Stevens, in action against some British regulars at the end of May, seems to have behaved with exceptional courage; and he recorded in his unorthodox spelling, "There was of our wounded fore non cild."
Up to this date casualties in Colonel Frye's regiment had been minor, and the town of Andover had had no occasion for mourn- ing. In May came the glad news of the capture of Ticonderoga by Ethan Allen and his Green Mountain Boys and of Crown Point by Seth Warner. In these enterprises no Andover soldiers were apparently involved. Bunker Hill, however, was to be a different story.
The New England troops stationed in the vicinity of Boston at the opening of June, although they numbered not far from sixteen thousand, were, like the militia from Andover, inexpe- rienced and poorly supplied with ammunition. On the night of Friday, June 16, an American Council of War decided to oc- cupy the high land on the Charlestown peninsula. It was a reck-
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less, ill-considered move, for General Gage, commanding the British, could easily have bottled up the neck and shut the co- lonials off from the mainland. Among the companies ordered to participate in this project were three composed largely of An- dover soldiers: that from the South Parish, under Captain Ames; that from the North Parish, now commanded by Captain Ben- jamin Farnum, Captain Poor having been promoted and as- signed to regimental duties; and one led by Captain Charles Furbush, comprising men from Salem, Methuen, and Tewks- bury as well as Andover. What happened on the following after- noon has often been described but never with greater simplicity than by Sergeant Thomas Boynton of Ames's company:
About 2 or 3 o'clock the enemy landed and advanced toward us, its thot to the number of 2000 men, and soon planted their cannon and began the fire and advancing up to our fort. After they came within gun shot we fired, and then ensued a very hot engagement. After a number of shots passed, the enemy retreated, and we ceased our fire for a few minutes. They advanced again, and we began a hot fire for a short time. The enemy scaling our walls and the number of our men being few, we was ordered to retreat, at which time the en- emy were almost round us, and a continual firing at our heels.
Such is a participant's factual and unsensational account of a bloody engagement in which the colonials lost four hundred and eleven killed and injured and their opponents between one thousand and fifteen hundred. When their ammunition was ex- hausted, the Americans had been obliged to retreat to the main- land, dropping knapsacks and blankets and whatever hindered their speedy withdrawal; but they had met the British redcoats face to face and inflicted terrible and unforgettable punishment. Three members of Ames's company-Philip Abbot, Joseph Chandler, and William Haggitt, all South Parish men-were killed on the spot, and six more wounded. In Furbush's com- pany, Samuel Bailey, Jr., rushing forward to assist his wounded commander, was shot dead by a cannon ball. This young man,
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remembered as outstanding for heroism, lived in what is now the West Parish, not far from the Merrimack River, and was the great-grandfather of Sarah Loring Bailey, the town's historian.
Medical and surgical attention was given to the wounded by Dr. Thomas Kittredge, of Andover, who was the surgeon for Colonel Frye's regiment, and by the Reverend Jonathan French, of the South Church, who was a practical surgeon as well as a clergyman. Writing about what happened on the Sunday follow- ing Bunker Hill, French said:
Our houses of public worship were generally shut up. It was the case here. When the news of the battle reached us, the anxiety and distress of wives and children, of parents, of brothers, sisters, and friends, was great. It was not known who were among the slain or the living, the wounded or the well. It was thought justifiable for us who could to repair to the camp to know the circumstances, to join in the defense of the country and prevent the enemy from pushing the advantages they had gained, and to afford comfort and relief to our suffering brethren and friends.
In this battle the highest and humblest were joined in the de- fense of the Colony. Salem Poor, a Negro slave owned by John Poor, had enlisted in Captain Ames's company. During the re- treat, when he saw Lieutenant-Colonel Abercrombie mount a redoubt and wave his arms in triumph, the colored lad aimed and fired, and then watched the British officer topple over. This ex- ploit was observed and noted by some staff commanders who, in recommending him for Congressional recognition, wrote in De- cember, 1775:
We declare that a Negro Man called Salem Poor, of Col. Frye's Regiment, Capt. Ames's Company, in the late battle at Charles- town, behaved like an experienced officer as well as an excellent sol- dier; to set forth particulars of his conduct would be tedious. We would only beg leave to say in the person of this sd. Negro centres a Brave and Gallant Soldier. The Reward due to so great and dis- tinguished a Character we submit to the Congress.
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Most dramatic of all was the case of Captain Benjamin Far- num, who, according to family tradition, after he had been seri- ously wounded and was lying in the path of his own retreating troops, was rescued and carried to safety by John Barker, a pri- vate in his company. Farnum was brought back to his Andover home by his children on an improvised litter, recovered, and later served throughout the war. We shall hear from him again.
At the first meeting of the Provincial Congress at Watertown, exactly one month after Bunker Hill, Samuel Phillips, Jr., was Andover's delegate; and during the four stormy sessions of that body, lasting until May 10, 1776, he was one of the influential figures. Although he was only twenty-three, he quickly gained a reputation as a logical and persuasive speaker whose judgment could be trusted. Meanwhile General Washington, on July 3, 1775, had assumed command of the army at Cambridge, and with him Phillips formed a friendship which lasted until his death. To the younger man Washington offered a living exam- ple of reliability, perseverance, and dignity which was most inspiring.
According to the traditional story, General Israel Putnam, at a critical moment in the Battle of Bunker Hill, had cried, "Pow- der, powder, ye gods give us powder!" When Washington ar- rived in Massachusetts he discovered to his dismay that there were on hand only nine or ten rounds to a man and at once dis- patched letters to the other colonies asking for aid. In a mood approaching despair, he wrote to Congress:
It is not in the pages of history, perhaps, to furnish a case like ours. To maintain a post within musket shot of the enemy for six months together without ammunition ... is more probably than was ever attempted.
The General Court, sitting at Watertown, was informed of the risky situation and tried to compel each town to supply a quota of powder. It was, however, Samuel Phillips, Jr., who made the
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move to relieve the emergency. On January 3, 1776, he proposed to build, with sufficient encouragement from the Common- wealth, a powder mill at his own expense. Five days later the Court agreed to supply him with sulphur and saltpeter for a year at cost and to pay him a bounty of eightpence a pound for all his product.
Realizing the necessity for speed, Phillips left his legislative duties and hastened back to Andover, where he had already pur- chased a mill-site on the Shawsheen River in what was later known as Marland Village. Calling an informal meeting of his neighbors, he explained his project. "I want your help," he said, "and I will undertake to pay you if the business prospers; but if it fails, you must consent to lose your labor and your time." Phillips, like many a manufacturer in later wars, was a happy combination of patriot and businessman. He was ready to help but didn't wish to lose money doing it. We are told that not a single man hesitated, and despite the severe winter weather, they began the following day to dig the millrace, Phillips himself handling a pick and shovel with the others.
Meanwhile Phillips' school and college friend, Eliphalet Pear- son, who had settled in Andover, was carrying on some necessary experiments. Day after day he toiled patiently, testing nitrous earths and covering the desks in the town grammar school, where he was teaching, with pans of chemicals while he occupied him- self with formulas. To get sufficient heat he even borrowed one of the stoves from the South Parish meeting house. The difficul- ties of procuring materials were great; and there was a period when Pearson even pulled up the floors of sheds and barns to obtain earth from which to extract saltpeter. At one time he feared that he might lose his eyesight from contact with the poisonous fumes. But through the prompt and energetic coöp- eration of Pearson and Phillips, the mill at Andover was com- pleted and in operation within two months. On May 20 it was reported from headquarters that for some time it had produced
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"about one thousand pounds weight of good gunpowder per week." So great was the need that the mill was run day and night, and on Sundays as well as weekdays.
On March 17, just as the mill was getting under way, General Howe evacuated Boston, and the immediate crisis for Massachu- setts was over; but the plant on the Shawsheen furnished ammu- nition to the American forces during the remaining years of the war. Unfortunately the quality was sometimes poor, and on April 8, 1777, the stormy-tempered Washington wrote to Gen- eral Heath:
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