pleasure to have had some of my family present at my inauguration, which was the most affecting and overpowering scene I ever acted in. I was very unwell, had no sleep the night before, and really did not know but I should have fainted in presence of all the world. I was in great doubt whether to say any thing or not besides repeating the oath. And now, the world is as silent as the grave. All the federalists seem to be afraid to approve any body but Washington. The Jacobin papers damn with faint praise, and undermine with misrepresentation and insinuation. If the federalists go to playing pranks, I will resign the office, and let Jefferson lead them to peace, wealth and power if he will. From the situation where I now am, I see a scene of ambition beyond all my former suspicions or imaginations; an emulation which will turn our government topsy-turvy. Jealousies and rivalries have been my theme, and checks and balances as their antidotes till I am ashamed to repeat the words; but they never stared me in the face in such horrid forms as at present. I see how the thing is going. At the next election England will set up Jay or Hamilton, and France, Jefferson, and all the corruption of Poland will be introduced; unless the American spirit should rise and say, we will have neither John Bull nor Louis Baboon. Silence. Yours affectionately, J. A. LETTER CCLXXXVIII. MY DEAREST FRIEND, Philadelphia, 24 April, 1797. THIS day you promised me to begin your journey; but if the weather is as disagreeable with you as it is here, I could not exact the fulfilment of the engagement. I fear you will have bad roads and unpleas ant weather. You talk of your perplexities and say you must get out of them yourself. Do you think mine less severe, public or private ? My dear and venerable mother! alas, I feel for her. She can compliment her daughter yet- that is a good sign. As to the husband, it seems to me that the mother and the daughter ought to think a little of the president as well as the husband. His cares! his anxieties! his health? Don't laugh. His comfort; that his head may be clear and his heart firm, ought to be thought on more than the husband. Provide every thing for my aged and worthy mother. I hope to see her yet again before October. You, and such petit maitres and maitresses as you, are forever criticising the periods and diction of such great men as presidents and chief justices. Do you think their minds are taken up with such trifles? There is solid, keen, deep sense in that morsel of Ellsworth's. You ought to be punished for wishing it not published. I warrant you, I shall soon be acquitted of the crime of Chronicle, Argus and Aurora praise. Let it run its rig, however, and say nothing at present. Your moral reflections on worldly possessions and earthly comforts, your look into futurity for brighter scenes and fairer prospects, are wise. You can't imagine what a man of business I am. How many papers I read and how much I write every day. I fear you will effeminate me when you come. I have determined to send my coachman and horses to Paulus Hook for you. As soon as I know the day you will be ready to get your coach over to the hook, I will endeavor to contrive that the horses shall be ready to be harnessed at your command. You will find the coachman very attentive, sober, skilful and obliging. I am forever your J. A. LETTER CCLXXXIX. Philadelphia, 4 May, 1797. MY DEAREST FRIEND, YOUR letters of the 21, 22, 23, and 26th of April,1 are all before me. They have inspired me with all the melancholy in which they were written. Our mother 1 See the last of these letters among those of Mrs. Adams, vol. II., p. 236. The first a fruit fully and our niece are gone to rest. ripe, the last but a blossom or a bud. I have suffered for you as much as you have suffered, but I could give you no aid, or amusement, or comfort. I pray God that these dispensations may be for our good. My mother's countenance and conversation was a source of enjoyment to me that is now dried up forever, at Quincy. Our ancestors are now all gone, and we are to follow them very soon to a country where there will be no war or rumor of war, no envy, jealousy, rivalry, or party. You and I are now entering on a new scene, which will be the most difficult and least agreeable of any in our lives. I hope the burden will be lighter to both of us, when we come together. I am, as long as life lasts, your ever affectionate JOHN ADAMS. LETTER CCXC. Philadelphia, 28 November, 1798. MY DEAREST FRIEND, I HAVE received yours of the 18th, and none later. Your company here is much desired by every body, but by none so much as me. My occupation in business is so incessant that I could have little time to pass with you, but that little every day would be precious and invaluable. You express a willingness to come on; but the thought of attempting it without consulting your friends and physicians distresses and terrifies me lest it should prove fatal to a life that is dear to me beyond all expression. If, however, your physicians are of opinion that you can come on by easy journeys, in any way you can think of, your arrival here will be an inexpressible satisfaction to me. But if you attempt to come without a fixed resolution to take care of your health and renounce those fatigues of public places, drawing rooms, great dinners, &c., I am very apprehensive that this winter will be your last. A constitution so wrecked and exhausted as yours has been by a three months' confinement, may be easily overset. We are all well and every thing goes on very well. We had the ministry and general officers to dine on Monday, and all agreeable. I am, with tenderness inexpressible, ever yours, LETTER CCXCI. J. A. MY DEAREST FRIEND, Philadelphia, 13 December, 1798. YOUR letters of November 29, December 2 and 3, affect me very tenderly. The low spirits, effects of long and exhausting sickness are apparent; but these |