 | Letters of Mrs. Adams, |  |
TO JOHN ADAMS.
I returned last evening from Boston, where I went
at the kind invitation of my uncle and aunt, to celebrate
our annual festival. Dr. Cooper being dangerously
sick, I went to hear Mr. Clark, who is
settled with Dr. Chauncy. This gentleman gave us
an animated, elegant, and sensible discourse, from
Isaiah, 55th chapter, and 12th verse. "For ye
the mountains and the hills shall break forth before
you into singing, and all the trees of the field shall
clap their hands."
Whilst he ascribed glory and praise unto the Most
High, he considered the worthy, disinterested, and
undaunted patriots as the instruments in the hand of
Providence for accomplishing what was marvellous
in our eyes. He recapitulated the dangers they had
passed through, and the hazards they had run; the
firmness which had, in a particular manner, distinguished
some characters, not only early to engage
in so dangerous a contest, but, in spite of our gloomy
prospects, to persevere even unto the end, until
they had obtained a peace, safe and honorable, large
as our desires, and much beyond our expectations.
How did my heart dilate with pleasure, when, as
each event was particularized, I could trace my
friend as a principal in them; could say it was he
who was one of the first in joining the band of
patriots, who formed our first national council; it
was he, who, though happy in his domestic attachments,
left his wife, his children, then but infants,
even surrounded with the horrors of war, terrified
and distressed, the week before the memorable 19th
of April,—left them to the protection of that Providence
which has never forsaken them, and joined
himself undismayed to that respectable body, of
which he was a member. Trace his conduct through
every period, you will find him the same undaunted
character, encountering the dangers of the ocean,
VOL. I. 13
wickedness in high places; jeoparding his life, endangered
by the intrigues, revenge, and malice of a
potent, though defeated nation. These are not the
mere eulogiums of conjugal affection, but certain
facts and solid truths. My anxieties, my distresses,
at every period, bear witness to them; though now,
by a series of prosperous events, the recollection is
more sweet than painful.
Whilst I was in town, Mr. Dana arrived very
unexpectedly; for I had not received your letters by
Mr. Thaxter. My uncle fortunately discovered him
as he came up State Street, and instantly engaged
him to dine with him, acquainting him that I was in
town and at his house. The news soon reached my
ears; "Mr. Dana arrived,"—"Mr. Dana arrived,"
—from every person you saw; but how was I affected?
The tears involuntarily flowed from my eyes.
Though God is my witness, I envied not the felicity
of others, yet my heart swelled with grief; and
the idea that I, I only, was left alone, recalled all
the tender scenes of separation, and overcame all
my fortitude. I retired, and reasoned myself into
composure sufficient to see him without a childish
emotion.
But, O! my dearest friend, what shall I say to
you in reply to your pressing invitation. I have
already written to you in answer to your letters,
which were dated September 10th, and reached me
a month before those by Mr. Thaxter. I related to
you all my fears respecting a winter's voyage. My
see by the copy of his letter enclosed, has given his
opinion upon well grounded reasons. If I should
leave my affairs in the hands of my friends, there
would be much to think of and much to do, to place
them in that method and order I would wish to leave
them in. Theory and practice are two very different
things, and the object is magnified as I approach
nearer to it. I think if you were abroad in a private
character, and necessitated to continue there, I should
not hesitate so much at coming to you; but a mere
American as I am, unacquainted with the etiquette
of courts, taught to say the thing I mean, and to
wear my heart in my countenance, I am sure I
should make an awkward figure; and then it would
mortify my pride, if I should be thought to disgrace
you. Yet, strip royalty of its pomp and power, and
what are its votaries more than their fellow worms?
I have so little of the ape about me, that I have
refused every public invitation to figure in the gay
world, and sequestered myself in this humble cottage,
content with rural life and my domestic employment,
in the midst of which I have sometimes
smiled upon recollecting that I had the honor of
being allied to an ambassador.
| Letters of Mrs. Adams, | |