We have a report of an engagement at the northward, in which our troops behaved well, drove the enemy into their lines, killed and took three hundred and fifty prisoners. The account came in last night. I have not particulars. We are under apprehensions that the Hancock is taken. Your obliging letters of the 8th, 10th, and 13th, came to hand last week. I hope before this time you are relieved from the anxiety you express for your bosom friend. I feel my sufferings amply rewarded, in the tenderness you express for me. But, in one of your letters, you have drawn a picture which drew a flood of tears from my eyes, and wrung my heart with anguish inexpressible. I pray Heaven, I may not live to realize it. It is almost thirteen years since we were united, but not more than half that time have we had the happiness of living together. The unfeeling world may consider it in what light they please. I consider it as a sacrifice to my country, and one of my greatest misfortunes, to be separated from my children, at a time of life when the joint instructions and admonition of parents sink deeper than in maturer years. The hope of the smiles and approbation of my friend sweetens all my toils and labors. "Ye Powers, whom men and birds obey, Where grows enjoyment tall and fair, TO JOHN ADAMS. 17 September, 1777. I HAVE to acknowledge a feast of letters from you since I wrote last; their dates from August 19th to September 1st. It is a very great satisfaction to me to know from day to day the movement of Howe and his banditti. We live in hourly expectation of important intelligence from both armies. Heaven grant us victory and peace; two blessings, I fear, we are very undeserving of. Enclosed you will find a letter to Mr. Lovell,' who was so obliging as to send me a plan of that part of the country, which is like to be the present seat of war. He accompanied it with a very polite letter, and I esteem myself much obliged to him; but there is no reward this side the grave that would be a temptation to me to undergo the agitation and distress I was thrown into by receiving a letter in his handwriting, franked by him. It seems almost impossible, that the human mind could take in, in so 1 James Lovell; at this time, and for several years after, a delegate from Massachusetts to the General Congress. small a space of time, so many ideas as rushed upon mine in the space of a moment. I cannot describe to you what I felt. The sickness or death of the dearest of friends, with ten thousand horrors, seized my imagination. I took up the letter, then laid it down, then gave it out of my hand unable to open it, then collected resolution enough to unseal it, but dared not read it; began at the bottom, read a line, then attempted to begin it, but could not. A paper was enclosed, I ventured upon that, and, finding it a plan, recovered enough to read the letter; but I pray Heaven, I may never realize such another moment of distress. I designed to have written you a long letter, for really I owe you one, but have been prevented by our worthy Plymouth friends, who are here upon a visit, in their way home; and it is now so late at night, just struck twelve, that I will defer any thing further till the next post. Good night, friend of my heart, companion of my youth, husband, and lover. Angels watch thy repose! TO JOHN ADAMS. Boston, 25 October, 1777. THE joyful news of the surrender of Genéral Burgoyne and all his army, to our victorious troops, prompted me to take a ride this afternoon with my daughter to town, to join, to-morrow, with my friends in thanksgiving and praise to the Supreme Being, who hath so remarkably delivered our enemies into our hands. And, hearing that an express is to go off to-morrow morning, I have retired to write you a few lines. I have received no letters from you since you left Philadelphia' by the post, and but one by any private hand. golden rule, and done Burgoyne is expected in by the middle of the week. I have read many articles of capitulation, but none which ever before contained so generous terms. Many people find fault with them, but perhaps do not consider sufficiently the circumstances of General Gates, who, by delaying and exacting more, might have lost all. This must be said of him, that he has followed the as he would wish himself, in like circumstances, to be dealt with. Must not the vaporing Burgoyne, who, it is said, possesses great sensibility, be humbled to the dust? He may now write the Blockade of Saratoga. I have heard it proposed, that he should take up his quarters in the Old South, but believe he will not be permitted to come to this town. Heaven grant us success at the southward. That saying of Poor Richard often occurs to my mind, "God helps them who help themselves;" but, if men turn their backs and run from an enemy, they cannot surely expect to conquer him. This day, dearest of friends, completes thirteen years since we were solemnly united in wedlock. 1 For Yorktown, whither the Congress had adjourned. Three years of the time we have been cruelly separated. I have, patiently as I could, endured it, with the belief that you were serving your country, and rendering your fellow-creatures essential benefits. May future generations rise up and call you blessed, and the present behave worthy of the blessings you are laboring to secure to them, and I shall have less reason to regret the deprivation of my own particular felicity. Adieu, dearest of friends, adieu. TO JOHN ADAMS. 8 March, 1778. 'Tis a little more than three weeks since the dearest of friends and tenderest of husbands left' his solitary partner, and quitted all the fond endearments of domestic felicity for the dangers of the sea, exposed, perhaps, to the attack of a hostile foe, and, O good Heaven! can I add, to the dark assassin, to the secret murderer, and the bloody emissary of as cruel a tyrant as God, in his righteous judgments, ever suffered to disgrace the throne of Britain. I have travelled with you over the wide Atlantic, and could have landed you safe, with humble confidence, at your desired haven, and then have set myself down to enjoy a negative kind of happiness, 1 Mr. Adams, with his eldest son, sailed for France in the frigate Boston in February of this year. |
