Familiar Letters of John Adams and His Wife Abigail Adams During the Revolution Part 68

May the time, the happy time, soon arrive when we may realize these blessings, so elegantly described by Thomson; for, though many of our countrymen talk in a different style with regard to their intentions, and express their wishes to see you in a conspicuous point of view in your own State, I feel no ambition for a share of it. I know the voice of fame to be a mere weather-c.o.c.k, unstable as water and fleeting as a shadow. Yet I have pride; I know I have a large portion of it.

I very fortunately received, by the _Apollo_, by the _Juno_, and by the _Minerva_, the things you sent me, all in good order. They will enable me to do, I hope, without drawing upon you, provided I can part with them; but money is so scarce and taxes so high that few purchasers are found. Goods will not double, yet they are better than drawing bills, as these cannot be sold but with a large discount. I could not get more than ninety for a hundred dollars, should I attempt it.

I shall inclose an invoice to the house of Ingraham and Bromfield, and one to De Neufville. There is nothing from Bilbao that can be imported to advantage. Handkerchiefs are sold here at seven dollars and a half per dozen. There are some articles which would be advantageous from Holland, but goods there run high, and the retailing vendues, which are tolerated here, ruin the shopkeepers. The articles put up by the American house were better in quality for the price than those by the house of De Neufville. Small articles have the best profit; gauze, ribbons, feathers, and flowers, to make the ladies gay, have the best advance. There are some articles, which come from India, I should suppose would be lower-priced than many others,--Bengals, nankeens, Persian silk, and bandanna handkerchiefs; but the house of Bromfield know best what articles will suit here. I have been fortunate and unfortunate. The things which came with Jones remain at Philadelphia yet.

Our friends here are all well. Your mother is in rather better health, and my father is yet sprightly. Believe me, with more affection than words can express, ever, ever yours,

PORTIA.

276. JOHN ADAMS.

Amsterdam, 18 December, 1781.

My dearest Friend,--I have letters from Mr. Dana and his young attendant[212] at St. Petersburg. Both well and in good spirits. Letters to Mrs. Dana and to you go by Captain Trowbridge and by Dr. Dexter. I have no certain news as yet of Charles's sailing from Bilbao, but I presume he is sailed. You will have suffered great anxiety on his account, but I pray he may arrive safe. I acted for the best when I consented he should go with Gillon, little expecting that he would be landed in Spain again. Keep him to his studies, and send him to college, where I wish his brother John was.

My health is feeble, but better than it was. I am busy enough, yet not to much perceptible purpose as yet. There is no prospect at all of peace. Let our people take care of their trade and privateers next year.

They have not much of a land war to fear. General Was.h.i.+ngton has struck the most sublime stroke of all in that article of the capitulation which reserves the Tories for trial by their peers. This has struck Toryism dumb and dead. I expect that all the rancor of the refugees will be poured out upon Cornwallis for it. Our enemies now really stand in a ridiculous light. They feel it, but cannot take the resolution to be wise. The Romans never saw but one Caudine Forks in their whole history.

Americans have shown the Britons two in one war. But they must do more.

Remember, you never will have peace while the Britons have a company of soldiers at liberty within the United States. New York must be taken, or you will never have peace. All in good time.

The British army estimates are the same as last year. The navy less by several s.h.i.+ps of the line. What can these people hope for? I fancy the southern States will hold their heads very high. They have a right. They will scarcely be overrun again, I believe, even in the hasty manner of Cornwallis. Burgoyne don't seem to be affronted that his nose is out of joint. He is in good spirits. Experience has convinced him, so I hope it has Cornwallis, that the American war is impracticable. The flower, the choice of the British army was with him. The King of England consoles his people under all their disgraces, disasters, and dismal prospects, by telling them that they are brave and free. It is a pity for him that he did not allow the Americans to be so seven years ago. But the great designs of Providence must be accomplished. Great indeed! The progress of society will be accelerated by centuries by this Revolution. The Emperor of Germany is adopting, as fast as he can, American ideas of toleration and religious liberty, and it will become the fas.h.i.+onable system of all Europe very soon. Light spreads from the dayspring in the west, and may it s.h.i.+ne more and more until the perfect day! Duty to parents. Love to brothers, sisters, and children. It is not in the power of words to express the tenderness with which I bid you farewell.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 212: His son J. Q. Adams.]

277. JOHN ADAMS.

Hague, 31 August, 1782.

All well; you will send these papers to some printer when you have done with them.

We have found that the only way of guarding against fevers is to ride.

We accordingly mount our horses every day. But the weather through the whole spring and most of the summer has been very dull, damp, cold, very disagreeable and dangerous. But shaking on horseback guards pretty well against it.

I am going to dinner with a Duke and a d.u.c.h.ess and a number of Amba.s.sadors and Senators in all the luxury of this luxurious world; but how much more luxurious it would be to me to dine upon roast beef with Parson Smith, Dr. Tufts, or Norton Quincy! or upon rusticoat potatoes with Portia! Ah! Oh! hi, ho, hum, and her daughter and sons!

278. JOHN ADAMS.

Hague, 17 September, 1782.

My dearest Friend,--I have transmitted money to the young men whom you mentioned to me, and have expected, every day for a long time, to hear of their sailing in a cartel for America. They have been better treated since the change of ministers. My respects to their parents.

It is now five months since my public reception here, but we have not yet learned that any news of it has arrived in America. The refugees in England are at their old game again. Andrew Sparhawk has published, in the "Morning Post," that his brother has received a letter from New York, that Ma.s.sachusetts and several other States were upon the point of overturning the new government, throwing off the authority of Congress, and returning to the government of Great Britain. Their blood-thirsty souls are not yet satiated. They are laboring to bring on again an offensive war. But I think they can't succeed. I suppose the unhappy affair of the county of Hamps.h.i.+re is the thing that gave occasion to this representation. Our countrymen must be very unreasonable if they can't be easy and happy under the government they have. I don't know where they will find a better, or how they will make one. I dread the consequences of the differences between chiefs. If Ma.s.sachusetts gets into parties, they will worry one another very rudely. But I rely on the honesty and sobriety as well as good sense of the people. These qualities will overawe the pa.s.sions of individuals and preserve a steady administration of the laws.

My duty to my mother and to your father. I hope to see them again. Love to the children and all friends. What shall I say of my brother Cranch?

I long, and yet I dread, to hear from him.

I hope to sign the Treaty this week or next, or the week after. All points are agreed on and nothing remains but to transcribe the copies fair. This government is so complicated that months are consumed in doing what might be done in another in an hour.

I don't know what to do with the list of articles you send me. It would be better for you to write to Ingraham and Bromfield. I will pay.

279. ABIGAIL ADAMS.

25 October, 1782.

My dearest Friend,--The family are all retired to rest; the busy scenes of the day are over; a day which I wished to have devoted in a particular manner to my dearest friend; but company falling in prevented it, nor could I claim a moment until this silent watch of the night.

Look (is there a dearer name than _friend_? Think of it for me), look to the date of this letter, and tell me what are the thoughts which arise in your mind. Do you not recollect that eighteen years have run their circuit since we pledged our mutual faith to each other, and the hymeneal torch was lighted at the altar of Love? Yet, yet it burns with unabating fervor. Old Ocean has not quenched it, nor old Time smothered it in this bosom. It cheers me in the lonely hour; it comforts me even in the gloom which sometimes possesses my mind.

It is, my friend, from the remembrance of the joys I have lost, that the arrow of affliction is pointed. I recollect the unt.i.tled man to whom I gave my heart, and in the agony of recollection, when time and distance present themselves together, wish he had never been any other. Who shall give me back time? Who shall compensate to me those years I cannot recall? How dearly have I paid for a t.i.tled husband! Should I wish you less wise, that I might enjoy more happiness? I cannot find that in my heart. Yet Providence has wisely placed the real blessings of life within the reach of moderate abilities; and he who is wiser than his neighbor sees so much more to pity and lament, that I doubt whether the balance of happiness is in his scale.

I feel a disposition to quarrel with a race of beings who have cut me off, in the midst of my days, from the only society I delighted in. "Yet no man liveth for himself," says an authority I will not dispute. Let me draw satisfaction from this source, and, instead of murmuring and repining at my lot, consider it in a more pleasing view. Let me suppose that the same gracious Being who first smiled upon our union, and blessed us in each other, endowed my friend with powers and talents for the benefit of mankind, and gave him a willing mind to improve them for the service of his country. You have obtained honor and reputation at home and abroad. Oh, may not an inglorious peace wither the laurels you have won!

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 embarra.s.sments. Thus again I pay for t.i.tles. Life takes its complexion from inferior things. It is little attentions and a.s.siduities 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 ingrat.i.tude; 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.