Part 39
I wrote you by Captain Grinnell. The _Firebrand_ is in great haste to return, and I fear will not give me time to say half I wish. I want you to say many more things to me than you do; but you write so wise, so like a minister of state. I know your embarrassments. Thus again I pay for titles. Life takes its complexion from inferior things. It is little attentions and assiduities that sweeten the bitter draught and smooth the rugged road.
I have repeatedly expressed my desire to make a part of your family. But "Will you come and see me?" cannot be taken in that serious light I should choose to consider an invitation from those I love. I do not doubt but that you would be glad to see me, but I know you are apprehensive of dangers and fatigues. I know your situation may be unsettled, and it may be more permanent than I wish it. Only think how the words, "three, four, and five years' absence," sound! They sink into my heart with a weight I cannot express. Do you look like the miniature you sent? I cannot think so. But you have a better likeness, I am told. Is that designed for me? Gracious Heaven! restore to me the original, and I care not who has the shadow.
We are hoping for the fall of Gibraltar, because we imagine that will facilitate the peace; and who is not weary of the war? The French fleet still remain with us, and the British cruisers insult them. More American vessels have been captured since they have lain here than for a year before; the _General Greene_ is taken and carried into Halifax, by which, I suppose, I have lost some small bundles or packages. Beals told me that you gave him seven small packages, which he delivered Captain Bacon for me. The prisoners have all arrived, except Savil, who is yet in France. I mentioned to you before, that some of them had been with me, and offered to repay the money with which you supplied them. I could only tell them that I had never received a line from you concerning the matter, and that I chose first to hear from you. I would not receive a farthing, unless I had your express direction, and your handwriting to prove, that what you had done was from your private purse, which I was confident was the case, or you would have been as ready to have relieved others, if you had any public funds for that purpose, as those which belonged to this town. I found a story prevailing that what you had done was at the public expense. This took its rise either from ignorance or ingratitude; but it fully determined me to receive your direction. The persons who have been with me are the two Clarks, the two Beales, and Job Field.
Adieu, my dear friend.
Ever, ever yours,
PORTIA.
280. ABIGAIL ADAMS.
13 November, 1782.
My dearest Friend,--I have lived to see the close of the third year of our separation. This is a melancholy anniversary to me, and many tender scenes arise in my mind upon the recollection. I feel unable to sustain even the idea that it will be half that period ere we meet again. Life is too short to have the dearest of its enjoyments curtailed; the social feelings grow callous by disuse, and lose that pliancy of affection which sweetens the cup of life as we drink it. The rational pleasures of friendship and society, and the still more refined sensations of which delicate minds only are susceptible, like the tender blossoms, when the rude northern blasts assail them, shrink within and collect themselves together, deprived of the all-cheering and beamy influence of the sun. The blossom falls and the fruit withers and decays; but here the similitude fails, for, though lost for the present, the season returns, the tree vegetates anew, and the blossom again puts forth.
But, alas! with me, those days which are past are gone forever, and time is hastening on that period when I must fall to rise no more until mortality shall put on immortality, and we shall meet again, pure and disembodied spirits. Could we live to the age of the antediluvians, we might better support this separation; but, when threescore years and ten circumscribe the life of man, how painful is the idea that, of that short space, only a few years of social happiness are our allotted portion.
Perhaps I make you unhappy. No. You will enter with a soothing tenderness into my feelings. I see in your eyes the emotions of your heart, and hear the sigh that is wafted across the Atlantic to the bosom of Portia. But the philosopher and the statesman stifles these emotions, and regains a firmness which arrests my pen in my hand.
25 November.
I last evening received a line from Boston to hasten my letter down or I should again lose an opportunity of conveyance. I was most unfortunate by the _Firebrand's_ sailing and leaving all my letters behind. A storm prevented my sending on the day appointed, and she sailed by sunrise the next morning. Though my letters were in town by nine o'clock, they missed. I know, if she arrive, how disappointed you will feel.
I received from France by the _Alexander_ yours, bearing no date, but, by the contents, written about the same time with those I received by Mr. Guild. Shall I return the compliment, and tell you in a poetical style,--
"Should at my feet the world's great master fall, Himself, his world, his throne, I'd scorn them all"?
No. Give me the man I love; you are neither of an age or temper to be allured by the splendor of a Court or the smiles of princesses. I never suffered an uneasy sensation on that account. I know I have a right to your whole heart, because my own never knew another lord; and such is my confidence in you, that if you were not withheld by the strongest of all obligations, those of a moral nature, your honor would not suffer you to abuse my confidence.
But whither am I rambling? We have not anything in the political way worth noticing. The fleet of our allies still remains with us.
Who is there left that will sacrifice as others have done; Portia, I think, stands alone, alas, in more senses than one. This vessel will convey to you the packets designed for the _Firebrand_. I hope, unimportant as they are, they will not be lost.
Shall I close here, without a word of my voyage? I believe it is best to wait a reply, before I say anything further. Our friends desire me to remember them to you. Your daughter, your image, your superscription, desires to be affectionately remembered to you. Oh, how many of the sweet domestic joys do you lose by this separation from your family. I have the satisfaction of seeing my children thus far in life behaving with credit and honor. God grant the pleasing prospect may never meet with an alloy, and return to me the dear partner of my early years, rewarded for his past sacrifices by the consciousness of having been extensively useful, not having lived to himself alone; and may the approving voice of his country crown his later days in peaceful retirement, in the affectionate bosom of
PORTIA.
281. JOHN ADAMS.
Paris, 4 December, 1782.
My dearest Friend,--Your proposal of coming to Europe has long and tenderly affected me. The dangers and inconveniences are such, and a European life would be so disagreeable to you, that I have suffered a great deal of anxiety in reflecting upon it. And upon the whole, I think it will be most for the happiness of my family, and most for the honor of our country, that I should come home. I have, therefore, this day written to Congress a resignation of all my employments, and as soon as I shall receive their acceptance of it, I will embark for America, which will be in the spring or beginning of summer. Our son is now on his journey from Petersburg, through Sweden, Denmark, and Germany, and if it please God he come safe, he shall come with me, and I pray we may all meet once more, you and I never to separate again.
Yours most tenderly,
J. ADAMS.
282. ABIGAIL ADAMS.
23 December, 1782.
My dearest Friend,--I have omitted writing by the last opportunity to Holland, because I had but small faith in the designs of the owners or passengers; and I had just written you so largely, by a vessel bound to France, that I had nothing new to say. There are few occurrences in this northern climate, at this season of the year, to divert or entertain you; and, in the domestic way, should I draw you the picture of my heart, it would be what I hope you still would love, though it contained nothing new. The early possession you obtained there, and the absolute power you have ever maintained over it, leave not the smallest space unoccupied. I look back to the early days of our acquaintance and friendship, as to the days of love and innocence, and with an indescribable pleasure I have seen near a score 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. I cannot sometimes refrain considering the honors with which he is invested as badges of my unhappiness. The unbounded confidence I have in your attachment to me and the dear pledges of our affection has soothed the solitary hour, and rendered your absence more supportable; for, had I loved you with the same affection, it must have been misery to have doubted. Yet a cruel world too often injures my feelings by wondering how a person possessed of domestic attachments can sacrifice them by absenting himself _for years_.
"If you had known," said a person to me the other day, "that Mr. Adams would have remained so long abroad, would you have consented that he should have gone?" I recollected myself a moment, and then spoke the real dictates of my heart: "If I had known, sir, that Mr. Adams could have effected what he has done, I would not only have submitted to the absence I have endured, painful as it has been, but I would not have opposed it, even though three years more should be added to the number (which Heaven avert!) I feel a pleasure in being able to sacrifice my selfish passions to the general good, and in imitating the example which has taught me to consider myself and family but as the small dust of the balance, when compared with the great community."
It is now, my dear friend, a long, long time since I had a line from you. The fate of Gibraltar leads me to fear that a peace is far distant, and that I shall not see you,--God only knows when. I shall say little about my former request; not that my desire is less, but, before this can reach you, 't is probable I may receive your opinion; if in favor of my coming to you, I shall have no occasion to urge it further; if against it, I would not embarrass you by again requesting it. I will endeavor to sit down and consider it as the portion allotted me. My dear sons are well. Their application and improvement go hand in hand. Our friends all desire to be remembered. The fleet of our allies expects to sail daily, but where destined we know not. A great harmony has subsisted between them and the Americans ever since their residence here. This letter is to go by the _Iris_, which sails with the fleet. I hope it will reach you in safety.
Adieu, my dear friend. Why is it that I hear so seldom from my dear John? But one letter have I ever received from him since he arrived in Petersburg. I wrote him by the last opportunity. Ever remember me, as I do you, with all the tenderness which it is possible for one object to feel for another, which no time can obliterate, no distance alter, but which is always the same in the bosom of
PORTIA.
283. JOHN ADAMS.
Paris, 28 December, 1782.
I dare say there is not a lady in America treated with a more curious dish of politics than is contained in the inclosed papers. You may show them to discreet friends, but by no means let them go out of your hands or be copied. Preserve them in safety against accidents.
I am afraid we shall have another campaign; but do not despair, however, of a peace this winter. America has nothing to do but to be temperate, patient, and faithful to her ally. This is as clearly her duty as it is her interest. She could not trust England if her honor was not engaged to France, which it is most certainly; and when this is said, all is said. Whether there should be peace or war, I shall come home in the summer. As soon as I shall receive from Congress their acceptance of the resignation of all my employments, which I have transmitted many ways, I shall embark, and you may depend upon a good domestic husband for the remainder of my life, if it is the will of Heaven that I should once more meet you. My promises are not lightly made with anybody. I have never broken one made to you, and I will not begin at this time of life.
My children, I hope, will once at length discover that they have a father who is not unmindful of their welfare. They have had too much reason to think themselves forgotten, although I know that an anxiety for their happiness has corroded me every day of my life.
With a tenderness which words cannot express, I am theirs and yours forever.
284. JOHN ADAMS.
Paris, 18 February, 1783.
My dearest Friend,--The peace,[213] which sets the rest of the world at ease, increases, I think, my perplexities and anxiety. I have written to Congress a resignation, but I foresee there will not be a speedy decision upon it, and I shall be left in a state of suspense that will be intolerable. Foreseeing this, I am determined not to wait for an acceptance of my resignation, but to come home without it, provided it does not arrive in a reasonable time. Don't think, therefore of coming to Europe. If you do, we shall cross each other, and I shall arrive in America about the same time that you may arrive in Europe.
I shall certainly return home in the spring. With or without leave, resignation accepted or not, home I will come, so you have nothing to do but wait to receive your old friend
J. ADAMS.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 213: The preliminary articles between the three parties, Great Britain, France, and the United States, were signed at Paris on the 28th of January, 1783. Hence this may be considered as the close of the great struggle of the Revolution.]
INDEX.
Act, limiting prices, 239, 243, 262, 307.
Act, Tender, repeal of, 390.
Adams, Abigail. Illness of, 1. Apprehensions of war, 25, xviii. Read Rollin's Ancient History, 25. Visit to Colonel Quincy's, 34. Visit to her brother, 41. Visit to Boston Garrison, 41. Opinion of slavery, 41. Portia, assumed name of, 53. Hospitality to soldiers, 57. Her house in Boston deserted, 63. Impressions of Generals Washington and Lee, 79. Illness of friends, 94. Her own illness, 95. Death of her mother, 102. Loss of relatives, 106. Dines at Major Mifflin's with Generals Gates and Lee, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, Dr. McHenry, etc., 128. Describes events preceding the evacuation of Boston, 137-141. Appointed on Ladies' Committee, 163. Visits Roxbury, 180. Visit to Plymouth, 185. Goes on board the brig _Defence_, 186. Visits Boston with her family to be inoculated for the small-pox, 200. Reflections on Declaration of Independence, 201. Visit to Mrs. Samuel Adams, 225. Entertains judges of the Superior Court, 227. Brother of, sails in the _Darter_, 269. Success in farming, 272. Fears another invasion, 274. Disapproves retaliatory spirit towards the enemy, 275. Removes from Boston, 287. Visits Boston on occasion of Burgoyne's surrender, 321. Anniversary of her marriage, 322, xxi. Letters to her son, John Quincy Adams, 334, 395. Entertains French officers, 342. Dines on board French frigate, 342. Ill health of her father, 384. Applied to in behalf of prisoners, 400. Receives goods from Paris, 401. Joins her husband in Europe, xxiii. Life at Court, xxiv. Returns to America, xxv. Letter on occasion of her husband's election to the Presidency, xxvi. Declining years, xxviii. Death of her daughter, xxix. Obsequies, xxix. Letters desired for publication, xxxi.
Adams, John. Indisposition of, 1. Habits of daily exercise, 1. Compares his own success with that of friends, 3. Chosen delegate to Philadelphia, 5, xvii. Independent of party contest, 7. Visit to Wells, 10. Arrival at Falmouth, 11. Engaged in the case of Richard King, of Scarborough, 19. Dines with Mr. Collector Waldo, 20. Despondency, 21. Starts for Philadelphia, 23, xvi. Thoughts of, on the education of his children, 28. Attends meeting of Dr. Allison, 46. Visits Roman chapel, 46. Leaves Philadelphia, 47. Leaves home on his second mission to Congress, 50, xvii. Reception at New York, 54. Accident, 55. Ill state of eyes, 58. Difficult labors, 61. Letters intercepted by the British, 85. Appointment as chief justice, 93. Arrival in Philadelphia, 99. Illness of his family, 100, xix. Present crisis foreseen, 105. Death of his wife's mother, 108. One of committee to collect account of hostilities, etc., 110. Visit to Colonel Mifflin's, dines with Indian sachems, 131. Starts on third mission to Congress, 131. Arrival in Philadelphia, 132. Injurious stories concerning, 136. Letter written entitled "Thoughts on Government," 158. Urges fortification of Boston Harbor, 167, 172. Offers resolve in Congress for adoption of independent government, 174. Appointed on committee thereon, 174. Desires to move his family to Philadelphia, 175. Appointment as President of Board of War and Ordnance, 189. Prophecies of the anniversary of American Independence, 193. Health affected by attention to business, 200. Urges sending troops from Massachusetts, 203. Requests leave of absence, 209. Suggests Gribelin's Hercules as device for government seal, 211. Desires to resign the office of chief justice, 215. Report that he is poisoned, 222. Chosen on committee to confer with Lord Howe, 223. Rumor of his death, 225. Returns home, 233. Sets out for Baltimore, 233. Accepts hospitality of Dr. Sprague, 233. Incidents of journey, 234-237. Route followed, 234. Resigns his office of chief justice, 244. Approves of annual election of General officers, 248. Observations upon the conduct of Lord Howe and his brother, 258. Visits Mrs. Wells's exhibition of wax-work, 271. Troubled with severe cold, 272. Maintains the duty of forgiveness of enemies, 279. His "Thoughts on Government," factious use made of, 280. His part in establishing the American navy, 282. Letter to John Quincy Adams, 284. Exhorts New Englanders to exertion, 289. Anticipations of Howe's invasion, 291. His admiration of South Carolina, 292. His views on the advance of Howe upon Philadelphia, 297-302. His meanness of living, 304. Impatience for action, 304. His views on the result of a battle, 305. Precarious state of private affairs, 310. Does not mourn the loss of Philadelphia, 315. Arrival in Portsmouth, N. H., 325. Engaged in admiralty cause, 326. Is commissioned to go to France, 326, xxi. Departs for France, 326, xxi. Arrival at Passy, 329. First impressions of France, 329. Sends goods to his wife, 333, 344. Condemns luxury, 334. News of arrival, brought in a prize, 337. Letters destroyed by Capt. Welch, 338. Good health, 345. Witnesses illumination at Paris, 349. Complains of neglect of Congress, 356. Announces intention of returning to America, 359. Visits St. Denis and Montmartre, 360. Leaves Paris, 363. By invitation of the King takes passage in the _Sensible_, 364. Reaches home, 367. Again ordered abroad, 367. Vessel springs a leak, 370. Lands in Spain, 370. Travels by land to Paris, 370. Dines with Lieutenant-general Don Joseph Saint Vincent, 370. With French officers, 371. Studies Spanish, 372. Arrival at Corunna, 372. Visits the governors of the province and town, 373. Arrives at Bilbao, 373. Hardships of the journey, 374. Arrival in Paris, 374. The Prince of Hesse Cassel, 374. Expenses of journey, etc., 375. Visit to Abbes Chalut and Arnoux with his children, 376. Visit to the Jardin du Roi, 379. Visits the Palais Royal, Tuileries, etc., 381. Exorbitant expense of living, 382. Arrival in Amsterdam, 386. Sends his sons to Leyden, 388. Illness, 396. Transmits money for release of crew of the _Essex_, 404. Sends his resignation to Congress, 410. Appointed minister to England, xxiii. Is joined by Mrs. Adams, xxiii. Return to America, xxv. Becomes Vice-President, xxv. President of the United States, xxv.
Adams, John Quincy, placed under tutors, 35. Letters of 49, 128. Accompanies his father to France, 327. Returns home, 364. Again visits Europe, 367. Enters University of Leyden, 388. Residence at St. Petersburg, 397.
Adams, Charles, son of John Adams, accompanies his father to the Hague, 367, 370. Enters academy in Paris, 374; Leyden University, 388. Health of, 396. Return to America, 399.
Adams, Elihu, notice of, 94.
Adams, Nabby, daughter of John Adams, 27, 40, 100, 128. Illness of, 163.
Adams, Samuel, 5, 28, 208, 315, xv., xviii.
Adams, Mrs. Samuel, 31, 89, 222, 225.
Adams, Thomas B., son of John Adams. Illness of, 95, 100, 397.
Admiralty Cause, 326.
Allen, Mr. 371.
Allison, Francis, DD., notice of, 46, 238.
_Alliance_, Frigate, 340, 356, 362, 376, 379, 387.
Alliance, Triple, of France, Spain, and America, 372.
Angier, Oakes, 24, 36, 183.
Archives, American, 30.
Arms, and Ordnance, arrival of, at Portsmouth, 268. The King's, taken from Boston State House, 204.
Army, Continental, Committee for continuing, 113. At Crown Point, wretched condition of, 195. Marches through Philadelphia, 298, 323, 393.
Army, Howe's, landing of, 299. Advance of, 307, 314. Occupies Philadelphia, 320.
Army, regular, plan for forming, 228.
Arnold, Benedict, General, 276, 294, 391.
Assembly, Colonial, at Hartford, 50.
Baltimore, City of, description of, 237. Congress assembles in, 238.
Barrell, William, 77, 217.
Battery, floating, assault on Boston by, 112.
Bays, Chesapeake and Delaware, description of, 295.
Bennington, battle of, 295.
Bergen, Point, 232.
Bernard, Governor, 383.
Bethlehem, Penn., manufactories at, 240. Description of town, 240.
Biddle, Edward, Speaker, illness of, 84.
Biddle, Nicholas, Captain, Prizes taken by, 315.
Bilbao, 373.
Boston, city of, rumored bombardment of, 31. Fortifications in, 33. Melancholy condition of, 51, 54, 112. Fire, 57. Martial law established, 80, 112. Evacuation of, 141, 149, 156. Small-pox, 227. Troops dismissed, 254. Invasion feared, 287.
Boston Harbor, fortifications of, 171.
_Boston_, Frigate, Mr. Adams sails in, 326. Reported taken, 336, 338.
Bounties, 229, 333.
Bowdoin, James, 5, 204.
Boylston, Thomas, 286.
Brackett, Dr. Joshua, 325.
Bradbury, Theophilus, notice of, 3.
Braintree, town of, political meeting in, 30, 41, 179. Seizure of powder, 34. Mortality in, 95, xix.
Brandywine, battle of, 312.
Brattle, William, Colonel, plot of, 29. His flight, 29.
Brigantine, French, arrival of, at Philadelphia, 208.
British, the cruelties of, 266.
British soldiers, abuses of, 13, 87.
Bullock, Archibald, Governor of Georgia, 198.
Bunker's Hill, battle of, 67, 71, 142.
Burgoyne, John, General, 87, 157, 299, 311. Surrender of, 319, 321, 325, xxii.