University of Virginia Library

I went yesterday, accompanied by Mr. Storer and
Mr. Smith, to Mr. Copley's, to see Mr. Adams's
picture.[7] This, I am told, was taken at the request
of Mr. Copley, and belongs to him. It is a full-length
picture, very large, and a very good likeness.
Before him stands the globe; in his hand a map of
Europe; at a small distance, two female figures,
representing Peace and Innocence. It is a most
beautiful painting. From thence, we went to what
is called Mr. Copley's exhibition. Here is the
celebrated picture, representing the death of Lord
Chatham in the House of Commons; his three sons
around him, each with strong expressions of grief
and agitation in his countenance. Every member
is crowding around him with a mixture of surprise and
distress. I saw in this picture, what I have every day
noticed since I came here, a strong likeness of some
American or other; and I can scarcely persuade
myself that I have not seen this person, that, and the
other, before, their countenances appear so familiar
to me, and so strongly mark our own descent.
There was another painting, which struck me more
than this. It is the death of Major Pierson, the particular
account of which I enclose to you. I never
saw painting more expressive than this. I looked
upon it until I was faint; you can scarcely believe
but you hear the groans of the sergeant, who is

wounded, and holding the handkerchief to his side,
whilst the blood streams over his hand. Grief, despair,
and terror are strongly marked, whilst he
grows pale and faint with loss of blood. The officers
are holding Major Pierson in their arms, who is
mortally wounded, and the black servant has levelled
his piece at the officer who killed him. The
distress in the countenances of the women, who are
flying, one of whom has a baby in her arms, is
beautifully represented; but descriptions of these
things give you but a faint resemblance of what in
reality they are.

From thence I went to see the celebrated Mrs.
Wright, Messrs. Storer and Smith accompanying
us. Upon my entrance, (my name being sent
up,) she ran to the door, and caught me by the
hand; "Why, is it really and in truth Mrs.
Adams? and that your daughter? Why, you dear
soul you, how young you look. Well, I am glad to
see you. All of you Americans? Well, I must kiss
you all." Having passed the ceremony upon me
and Abby, she runs to the gentlemen. "I make no
distinction," says she, and gave them a hearty buss;
from which we would all rather have been excused,
for her appearance is quite the slattern. "I love
everybody that comes from America," says she;
"here," running to her desk, "is a card I had from
Mr. Adams; I am quite proud of it; he came to see
me, and made me a noble present. Dear creature,
I design to have his head. There," says she, pointing
to an old man and woman, who were sitting in

one corner of the room, "are my old father and
mother; don't be ashamed of them because they
look so. They were good folks;" (these were their
figures in wax-work;) "they turned Quakers, and
never would let their children eat meat, and that is
the reason we were all so ingenious; you had heard
of the ingenious Mrs. Wright in America, I suppose?"
In this manner she ran on for half an hour.
Her person and countenance resemble an old maiden
in your neighbourhood, Nelly Penniman, except that
one is neat, the other the queen of sluts, and her
tongue runs like Unity Badlam's. There was an
old clergyman sitting reading a paper in the middle
of the room; and, though I went prepared to see
strong representations of real life, I was effectually
deceived in this figure for ten minutes, and was
finally told that it was only wax. From Mrs.
Wright's I returned to my hotel, dressed, and at four
went to dine with Mrs. Hallowell. Mr. H. had in the
morning been to see me, and Mr. Thomas Boylston,
both of whom urged me to take up my lodgings
with Mrs. Hallowell. I chose to decline, but went
and dined with them. Here I found Parson Walter.
We had a handsome dinner of salt fish, pea soup,
boiled fowl and tongue, roast and fried lamb, with a
pudding and fruit. This was a little in the Boston
style. Messrs. Smith and Storer dined with us. Mr.
Hallowell lives handsomely, but not in that splendor
which he did in Boston.[8] On Sunday, I engaged to
take a coach for the day, which is only twelve-and-sixpence
sterling, and go to church at the Foundling
Hospital. Messrs. Atkinson, Smith, and Storer with
me.