No bribe could seduce—no threat divert Mr. Adams from the path of duty. He placed his trust in the Rock of Ages—enjoyed the rich consolations of an approving conscience—the unlimited confidence of his friends, the approbation of every patriot. These were more dearly prized by him than all the dazzling honors of kings and potentates. He became an object of vengeance and was the immediate cause of the memorable battle at Lexington on the 19th of April 1775—the troops sent being in pursuit of him and John Hancock. Apprised of their mission Gen. Joseph Warren sent an express late in the evening to the two patriots warning them of approaching danger. In a few minutes after they had left, the British troops entered the house which they had just emerged from. In a few ominous hours the crimson curtain rose—the revolutionary tragedy commenced. The last maternal cord was severed—the great seal of the original compact was broken—the covenants of the two parties were cancelled in blood.
Mr. Adams remained in the neighborhood during the night. The next morning, as the sun rose without an intervening cloud, he remarked to a friend, "This is a glorious day for America." He viewed the sacrifice as an earnest of ultimate success and future blessings.
To rouse the people to action now became the sole business of this devoted friend of his bleeding country. The grand signal for action had been given—the tocsin of war had been sounded—the requiem of battle had been sung—its soul-stirring notes had been wafted far and wide on the wings of wind and were responded to by millions of patriotic hearts.
Mr. Adams mourned deeply the death of his friends, the martyrs of that tragical but auspicious day. He knew well that martyrs must be sacrificed and that the funeral knell of those who had just fallen would shake British colonial power to its very centre. He believed their blood would cry to Heaven for vengeance and incite the hardy sons of Columbia's soil to vigorous and triumphant action. The event added new strength to his propulsive powers and doubly nerved him to meet the fiery trials in reserve for him. As dangers increased he became more urgent for the people to maintain their rights. As the wrath of his enemies waxed hotter he was more highly appreciated by the people and was uniformly styled—Samuel Adams the Patriot. His fame and influence strengthened under persecution, his friends were animated by his counsels, his foes were astounded and chagrined at the boldness of his onward career. In the Assembly he effected the passage of a series of resolutions deemed treasonable by the royal governor.
In the Congress of 1776 he was among the first to advocate the Declaration of Independence—contending that it should have followed immediately after the battle of Lexington. In all his debates he was earnest and zealous but not rash—ardent and decisive but wise and judicious. When the Declaration of Rights was adopted he affixed his name to that important instrument without the least hesitation although he stood proscribed by the royal power.
During the darkest periods of the Revolution he was calm and cheerful and did much to reanimate the desponding. In 1777 when Congress was obliged to fly to Lancaster and a dismal gloom hung over the cause of the patriots like a mantle of darkness several of the members were in company with Mr. Adams lamenting the disasters of the American arms, concluding that the chances for success were desperate. Mr. Adams promptly replied—"If this be our language, they are so indeed. If we wear long faces they will become fashionable. Let us banish such feelings and show a spirit that will keep alive the confidence of the people. Better tidings will soon arrive. Our cause is just and righteous. We shall never be abandoned by Heaven while we show ourselves worthy of its aid and protection." At that time there were but twenty-eight members in Congress. Mr. Adams said—"It was the smallest but truest Congress they ever had."
Soon after that dark period the surrender of Burgoyne was announced which proved a panacea for long faces and put a new aspect upon the cause of Liberty. Many recovered from a relapsed state—hearts beat more freely, courage revived from a typhoid stupor—the anchor of hope held the ship of state more firmly to her moorings.
The arrival of Lord Howe and Mr. Eden with what they termed the olive branch of peace from Lord North, added to the excitement. Mr. Adams was one of the committee to meet these high functionaries. On examining the terms proposed, the committee found that the proposed olive branch had been plucked from the Bohun Upas of an overbearing and corrupt ministry and promptly replied through Mr. Adams—"Congress will attend to no terms of peace that are inconsistent with the honor of an independent nation." This reply was as unexpected to the royal messengers as it was laconic and patriotic. The grand Rubicon had been passed—the galling chains had been thrown off—the Sodom of British power was doomed and nothing could induce the sages and heroes of '76 to look back or tarry on the plain of monarchy. Lord Howe and his colleague had permission to return—report progress of locomotion and walk again. Mr. Adams continued one of the strong pillars in the rising temple of liberty until the superstructure was completed—recognized and approved by the mother country and all Europe.
In 1787 he was a member of the convention of Massachusetts convened to act upon the Federal Constitution. He did not fully approve of some of its provisions but avoided opposition believing it to be the best policy to adopt it, subject to future amendments. He was most particularly opposed to the article rendering the states amenable to the national courts. He submitted sundry amendments that were adopted by the convention and submitted with the Constitution for the future consideration of Congress, some of which have since been adopted.
From 1789 to '94, Mr. Adams was lieutenant-governor of his native state and from that time to '97, was governor. He performed the executive duties with great ability and contributed largely in raising the commonwealth to a flourishing and dignified condition. He watched over all her interests with parental care—viewed her rising greatness with an honest pride. He had seen her sons writhing under the lash of oppression and their bones bleaching in the field. He now beheld the people independent, prosperous, virtuous and happy. He could now be gathered peacefully to his fathers when his time should arrive to depart. Age and infirmity compelled him to retire from the great theatre of public life where he had been so long conspicuous. His health continued to fail sensibly with each returning autumn. On the 3d of October 1803, his immortal spirit left its mansion of clay—soared aloft on the wings of faith to mansions of bliss beyond the skies. He died rejoicing in the merits of his immaculate Redeemer who had given him the victory. He had fought the good fight of faith as well as that of Liberty and felt a full assurance of receiving a crown of glory at the hands of King Immanuel.