 | Letters of Mrs. Adams, |  |
TO JOHN ADAMS.
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;
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 untitled 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 titled 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 neighbour 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
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. O! 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
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
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 a 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
have been with me are the two Clarks, the two
Beales, and Job Field.
| Letters of Mrs. Adams, | |