Wow, a few requests for Congressmen already! Many thanks to the readers and requesting reviewers; you guys are awesome! Sorry this next part took me so long to update; homework stinks. This next part takes place before and during the passage of the Declaration. So, without further ado, here's the man in green we all love to hate.
John Dickinson
1. Every time he looks in the mirror, he remembers the bruise.
John Dickinson recalls the words exchanged that day in Congress.
"Madman!"
"LANDLORD!"
"LAWYER!"
He can still see John Adams picking up his walking stick with fury blazing in his eyes. He can still see his arms in front of him, holding up his own walking stick in defense. He can hear the shouts of his fellow Congressmen, the clanking sound of the canes hitting against one another, and the loud gunshot from Colonel McKean's favorite firearm.
When he traveled back to his favorite of his two Pennsylvania homes—Fairhill, it is named—he noticed a large purple bruise on the top of his left shoulder. It seemed to grow darker as he got ready for bed. It was the biggest bruise he had ever gotten his whole life, yet he didn't remember Adams hitting him there. The bruise became sore before it went away, but he never considered it very painful. It was he who had started the insults and led to a fight. There had to be some damage.
Besides, Adams has hurt him much worse in the past.
It is for that reason alone why he remembers the bruise.
2. John Dickinson is a master of insults.
Whenever a debate in Congress begins, John states his side clearly and suavely. Nothing gets to him, and he wants the whole Congress to know it. Whenever Adams rises to object to him, John answers back with a sardonic tone and many insults.
He knows he wounds Adams's pride, and he is proud of it. He must stop Adams in any way possible, even if it means degrading his sense of worth. After all, he is the one thing standing between Adams's radical ideas and sense. Nothing gets Adams angrier than a good insult, and nothing distracts the Congress from Adams's arguments better.
Nothing distracts John's mind from Adams's arguments better, either.
3. John lies about his perfect marriage.
He tells his good friend James Wilson that everything is fine between him and Mary. He boasts it out loud so that the whole Congress can hear. He is quite proud of his marriage, and just like everything else, they will know that fact.
They will not know that when he arrives home, Mary prattles on and on about peace until his ears nearly bleed. They will not know about the talks he receives from her Quaker parents, urging him that the time for independence is wrong and that he should continue straying from war. They will not know how aggravated he gets when Mary tells him to believe something that goes against his judgment, and they will certainly never know how many times he has accepted her beliefs.
It often keeps John awake at night. He thinks about the independency issue and what all of the pro-independence men in Congress say about it. Then he thinks about what his wife and her family says. They are good people, and they must be right. Independence is not the answer.
To John, fighting it is the only way the thirteen colonies will ever be protected from chaotic destruction.
4. John cannot forget those taxes.
He heard the news of the Sugar Act, the Stamp Act, the Tea Act, etc., etc., etc. a little while back. He heard the news—and he found it despicable. He thought the King's actions so distasteful that he wrote a pamphlet against them. Taking this fact into account, John understands why some may be confused as to his positions in Congress.
Adams and his few allies say he doesn't want independence so that he can stay safe and affluent where he is. John wants to spit in their faces for their ignorance. It's not independence that is the problem—it's them. He hates to pay his unfair taxes, but he does not throw tea into a harbor to make his point. He doesn't need to separate from his mother country to prove his point, either. John isn't reckless like them. He isn't an agitator; he is cool, cool, and considerate.
Yet the thoughts of those taxes continue to haunt his mind every day.
5. His large support group is a fraud.
John knows that most of the Congressmen listen to him, and he loves his superiority. They worship him from the beginning to the end of a session, all because of his social standing and his previous works. Whatever he says, the majority applauds. They follow him through the issues with loyalty. If John orders them to despise something, they despise it. If John says jump, they ask how high.
Adams knows that John is popular; he has said so dozens of times. Yes, John has plenty of money. Yes, he married a rich woman and owns two houses. Yes, he basks in the support he receives in Congress. He especially enjoys the cheers he gets for his opinions while Adams sulks at his desk. He loves how he can lead the Congressmen as if he was an instructor and they were backup dancers in a minuet.
However, when the Congressional session is over for the day, only James Wilson is left. Soon afterward James bids him farewell and walks to the cozy place where he is staying.
Then John Dickinson is alone again, finding himself wishing for the morning.
6. There was one time in Congress when John actually felt inferior.
One day during a Congressional break, Richard Henry Lee offered to play a game.
"I think that we should have all of the delegates in this room who are lawyers talk about the best trial they've ever performed, and then we'll all decide whose trial was the greatest!"
Since Lee wasn't an official lawyer, John thought it funny that he was proposing the game. However, the others all agreed to play. John told which trial he thought was his best. Many delegates spoke in full detail about their best trials while others listened. Soon everyone had told their stories—well, almost everyone.
"What about you, Johnny?!" Lee asked. John was about to answer that he already told his story, before he realized that Lee was looking at Adams. Adams was sitting in his seat, reading a paper of some sort. His face flushed red with embarrassment.
"That's quite alright, I don't need a turn," Adams said. Yet the entire room insisted (except for John, who sneered quietly to himself.) Adams cleared his throat. "Well, um…" He looked around the entire room. John rolled his eyes. "Well," Adams continued, "after the Boston Massacre, I defended the British soldiers who were accused of murder. For the most part, they were acquitted."
The entire room fell silent.
John walked out of the room seething, knowing just as well as the others who had won the game.
7. He remembers what it was like to be friends with John Adams.
James Wilson is John's best friend in Congress now. James has a secret talent for listening. John has revealed a lot of his inner thoughts to James (with the exception of his disagreements with Mary), and his little sidekick has always given him good advice. James is not the most captivating or fierce individual, but he is a nice friend.
Despite this, John still feels his stomach drop whenever he sees Adams walk into a room. He observes when Adams walks towards a group of Congressmen and they all seem to smile. He notices Benjamin Franklin and Richard Henry Lee going to Adams many times for either philosophical discussions or lighthearted banters.
There was even a time when John walked outside and heard Thomas Jefferson laughing with Adams. John never heard the taciturn Jefferson laugh before, especially so loudly and so jovially. Then Jefferson and Adams ran away in a race to see who would get to the Bunch of Grapes restaurant first. They continued to laugh as they turned the corner, as if they were young children.
John remembers the harsh words that Adams wrote about him in his letter, the letter that was published in the Tory newspapers. The memory never ceases to boil his blood. It was so humiliating to wake up and discover his good name slandered in bold ink. Every day since, his passionate hatred for the man who wrote the published words has grown and grown.
John wonders, then, why he once wished to be the one running to the restaurant beside him.
8. John wonders what is happening to his world.
He used to be able to walk the streets of his dear Philadelphia with such carelessness after Congress adjourned for the day. He used to go home happily to his wife and many warm meals. He used to not worry about a thing. He still had it all.
Even though John still walks with the pomp and suaveness that he did before, his heart is filled with gloom. There is something wrong in Congress. There is a silence present—the sound of men thinking—that was never there before.
When Edward Rutledge and his gang of southerners stormed out, Dickinson at first was happy. He didn't care about the slavery clause, but he was glad to get some congressmen back on his side and less in the middle of the issue. Directly after his triumphant moment, he began to feel sick. Rutledge was the one leading the opposition; not himself. He is losing his influence.
He is no longer the instructor, but the background dancer.
That is what John cannot bear.
9. John feels like Julius Caesar.
Julius Caesar was loved once. He was the hero of the Romans, defeater of Pompeii, and the epitome of grandeur. Everyone supported him and turned to him for counsel. Then, one day, the Romans grew tired of Julius Caesar, and some decided to kill him.
John Dickinson was loved once. He was the voice of the Pennsylvania farmers, slanderer of taxes, and the epitome of grandeur. The Congressmen supported him and turned to him for counsel. Then, one day, the Congressmen grew tired of John Dickinson—and he felt it. He rose to defame the Declaration of Independence, and they stared at him as if he had two heads. They no longer cheered and shouted in his favor. He spoke the language they speak every day, but it was as though they did not understand his words. The power, the control he once had, was gone. He had lost them forever.
Brutus killed Caesar with a knife. John Adams's knife is the quill that he will use to sign the Declaration with.
John realizes how lucky Caesar is to be dead. He wishes he had so good a fortune.
10. Despite his denials, John knows that he is a coward.
John is a coward because cannot stand up to his wife and her family. He cannot face Adams and clarify what exactly went wrong in their friendship. He cannot face the issue of independency because he is afraid of losing what little control he has left in his life.
Most importantly, he cannot face the fact that he was wrong. Obviously independency is the way to protect his homeland, according to the other Congressmen (including his best friend James). It is not the rebels that are the enemy; it is indeed the British.
John is a coward, and he hates himself for it. He is also determined not to let anyone else know it. That is why he heads for the exit of Independence Hall, announcing that he is going to join the Pennsylvania militia.
All John wanted to do was protect his homeland from terror. His plans on how to do so failed. If he harmed his homeland in Congress in any way, he hopes he can be more supportive of it fighting in the field of battle. He pulls open the large door, and turns back around one last time. He sees the Congressmen cheering and a proud John Adams grinning.
John knows that as much as he is a coward, he also had good intentions all along.
He wonders if they knew that too.
Then he walks into the hallway and closes the door.
End of Part II. Sorry if this chapter wasn't like you expected it to be. It sounds silly, but Dickinson was kind of hard to do (especially coming from a devout Adams supporter, LOL). Here is the order of the upcoming chapters, in order of requests first made: Rutledge, Lee, Dr. Hall. If you want any others, definitely let me know. :)