The materials for preparing the memoirs of those American ladies whose
virtues were conspicuous, and whose position in society imposed upon
them great duties, and gave them an extensive influence in their day,
are, in general, exceedingly scanty. Happily, the piety of a
descendant has, in the present case, supplied the deficiency; and in a
mode the most satisfactory. We are here not only made acquainted with
the everyday life and actions as they were exhibited to the world
around, but are admitted to the inmost recesses of the heart, and all
its hopes and feelings are laid open to us. There are few who could
bear such an exposure; but in respect to the subject of our present
sketch, a nearer acquaintance and more rigid scrutiny serve only to
increase our veneration, and to confirm the verdict which her
contemporaries had passed upon her.
Abigail Smith, afterwards Mrs. Adams, was born on the 11th of
November, 1744. She was the daughter of the Rev. William Smith, the
minister of a small Congregational church in Weymouth, Massachusetts,
and was descended on both sides from the genuine stock of the
Pilgrims.
The cultivation of the female mind was neglected in the last century,
not merely as a matter of indifference, but of positive principle;
female learning was a subject of ridicule, and "female education," as
Mrs. Adams tells us, "in the best families, went no further than
writing and arithmetic; in some, and rare instances, music and
dancing." But Mrs. Adams did not have an opportunity of receiving even
the ordinary instruction. She was never sent to school, the delicate
state of her health forbidding it. But this is hardly to be considered
matter of regret, for constant intercourse with her pious and talented
relations had an influence upon her character of even greater value
than the learning of the schools. The lessons which made the deepest
impression upon her mind were imbibed from her maternal grandmother,
the wife of Colonel John Quincy. "I have not forgotten," says Mrs.
Adams, to her daughter, in 1795, "the excellent lessons which I
received from my grandmother, at a very early period of life. I
frequently think they made a more durable impression upon my mind than
those which I received from my own parents. Whether it was owing to
the happy method of mixing instruction and amusement together, or from
an inflexible adherence to certain principles, the utility of which I
could not but see and approve when a child, I know not; but maturer
years have rendered them oracles of wisdom to me. I love and revere
her memory; her lively, cheerful disposition animated all around her,
while she edified all by her unaffected piety. This tribute is due to
the memory of those virtues, the sweet remembrance of which will
flourish, though she has long slept with her ancestors."
But though the list of accomplishments thought essential for a young
lady's education was so scanty, it must not be supposed that the mind
was left wholly uncultivated. On the contrary, few women of the
present day are so well acquainted with the standard English authors,
as those of the period of which we are now speaking. The influence
which they had on the mind of the subject of this memoir, is apparent
throughout her published correspondence, not only in the style, in the
fondness for quotation, but in the love of fictitious signatures, of
which the "Spectator" had set the example. The social disposition of
youth renders an interchange of thoughts and feelings between those of
the same age essential to their happiness. The sparse population, and
comparatively small facilities for locomotion in the last century,
rendered personal intercourse difficult, and a frequent interchange of
letters was adopted as a substitute. This, as an exercise for the
mind, is of great value, as it induces habits of reflection, and leads
to precision and facility in expressing ideas.
A few of Mrs. Adams's letters, written at an early period of her life,
have been preserved, and from one of these--addressed to a married
lady, several years older than herself, which will account for a
gravity which is beyond her years and ordinary disposition--the
following extracts are made. It is dated at Weymouth, October 5th,
1761.
"Your letter I received, and, believe me, it has not been through
forgetfulness that I have not before this time returned you my
sincere thanks for the kind assurance you then gave me of continued
friendship. You have, I hope, pardoned my suspicions; they arose from
love. What persons in their right senses would calmly, and without
repining, or even inquiring into the cause, submit to lose their
greatest temporal good and happiness? for thus the divine, Dr. Young,
looks upon a friend, when he says,--
'A friend is worth all hazards we can run;
Poor is the friendless master of a world;
A world in purchase for a friend is gain.'
* * * You have, like King Ahasuerus, held forth, though not a golden
sceptre, yet one more valuable,--the sceptre of friendship, if I may
so call it. Like Esther, I would draw nigh and touch it. Will you
proceed and say, 'What wilt thou?' and 'What is thy request? it shall
be given thee to the half of my' heart. Why, no, I think I will not
have so dangerous a present, lest your good man should find it out and
challenge me. * * * And now let me ask you, whether you do not think
that many of our disappointments, and much of our unhappiness, arise
from our forming false notions of things and persons. We strangely
impose on ourselves; we create a fairy land of happiness. Fancy is
fruitful, and promises fair, but, like the dog in the fable, we catch
at a shadow, and, when we find the disappointment, we are vexed, not
with ourselves, who are really the impostors, but with the poor,
innocent thing or person of whom we have formed such strange ideas.
* * * You bid me tell _one_ of my sparks--I think that was the
word--to bring me to see you. Why, I believe you think they are as
plenty as herrings, when, alas! there is as great a scarcity of them
as there is of justice, honesty, prudence, and many other virtues.
I've no pretensions to one. Wealth, wealth is the only thing that is
looked after now. 'Tis said Plato thought, if Virtue would appear to
the world, all mankind would be enamored of her; but now interest
governs the world, and men neglect the golden mean."
At the age of twenty, Miss Smith became the wife of John Adams,
afterwards president of the United States. Connected with this event,
an anecdote is related, which, as an indication of the fashion of the
day, and of the disposition of the bride's father, is too good to be
passed over. Mary, the eldest daughter of Mr. Smith, was married to
Richard Cranch, an English emigrant, and, as it would appear, with the
approbation of all parties; for, upon the Sabbath following, he
preached to his people from the text, "And Mary hath chosen that good
part, which shall not be taken from her." But Abigail was not so
fortunate; for her match, it would seem, met the disapprobation of
some of her father's parishioners, either on account of the profession
of Mr. Adams,--that of the law,--which was then an obnoxious one to
many people, who deemed it dishonest; or because they did not consider
Mr. Adams--the son of a small farmer--a sufficiently good match for
the daughter of one of the shining lights of the colony. Mr. Smith,
having become aware of the feeling which existed, took notice of it in
a sermon from the following text: "For John came neither eating bread
nor drinking wine, and ye say, He hath a devil."
The first ten years of Mrs. Adams's married life were passed in a
quiet and happy manner; her enjoyment suffering no interruptions
except those occasioned by the short absences of her husband, when he
attended the courts. In this period she became the mother of a
daughter and three sons, of whom John Quincy Adams was the eldest.
All are familiar with the distinguished part performed by Mr. Adams in
the scenes which immediately preceded our revolution. In all his
feelings and actions he had the sympathy and support of his wife, who
had thus in some measure become prepared for the stormy period which
was at hand.
Mr. Adams, having been appointed one of the delegates to the congress
to be held at Philadelphia, left home in August, 1774; and on the 19th
of that month, we find the following letter addressed to him by his
wife:--
"The great distance between us makes the time appear very long to me.
It seems already a month since you left me. The great anxiety I feel
for my country, for you, and for our family, renders the day tedious,
and the night unpleasant. The rocks and the quicksands appear on every
side. What course you can and will take is all wrapped in the bosom of
futurity. Uncertainty and expectation leave the mind great scope. Did
ever any kingdom or state regain its liberty, when once it was
invaded, without bloodshed? I cannot think of it without horror. Yet
we are told, that all the misfortunes of Sparta were occasioned by
their too great solicitude for present tranquillity; and from an
excessive love of peace, they neglected the means of making it sure
and lasting. * * * I have taken a very great fondness for reading
Rollin's Ancient History. I am determined to go through it, if
possible, in these my days of solitude. I find great pleasure and
entertainment from it, and I have persuaded Johnny to read me a page
or two every day, and hope he will, from his desire to oblige me,
entertain a fondness for it. I want much to hear from you. I long
impatiently to have you upon the stage of action. The 1st of September
may, perhaps, be of as much importance to Great Britain, as the ides
of March to Caesar. I wish you every public and private blessing, and
that wisdom which is profitable for instruction and edification, to
conduct you in this difficult day."
She perceived, at a very early period, that the conflict would not be
speedily settled, and of the personal consequences to herself she
speaks in the following affecting terms: "Far from thinking the scene
closed, it looks as though the curtain was but just drawn, and only
the first scene of the infernal plot disclosed: whether the end will
be tragical, Heaven alone knows. You cannot be, I know, nor do I wish
to see you, an inactive spectator; but, if the sword be drawn, I bid
adieu to all domestic felicity, and look forward to that country where
there are neither wars nor rumors of wars, in a firm belief that,
through the mercy of its King, we shall both rejoice there together."
Indeed, from this period till she joined her husband in Europe, in
1784, she enjoyed very little of his society. Had the state of the
times rendered it safe or agreeable for her to have accompanied her
husband in his journeys and voyages, the circumstances of the family
would not have allowed it. Without hereditary fortune, with no
opportunity of practising in his profession, and now serving the
public for a price which would not defray his actual and necessary
expenses,--Mr. Adams would have been, in his old age, in the
lamentable condition of many of the most active patriots of the
revolution, who, devoting their years of vigorous manhood to the
service of their country, were left, in their declining days, in a
state of penury,--had he not possessed in his wife a helper suited to
the exigency. She husbanded their small property, the savings of years
of professional prosperity; she managed the farm with skill; and in
all matters of business she displayed a degree of judgment and
sagacity not to be exceeded. All the powers of her mind were now
called into activity, and her character displayed itself in the most
favorable colors. The official rank of her husband imposed high duties
upon her; her timid neighbors looked to her for support and comfort,
and she was never found wanting.
The absence of Mr. Adams relieved his wife from one source of
anxiety--that for his personal safety. As the conflict in the early
periods of the revolution was confined to the vicinity of Boston, and
as the feelings of parties were more exasperated here than elsewhere,
he would have been in the greatest danger at home. It was a comfort to
her that her husband should "be absent a little while from the scenes
of perturbation, anxiety, and distress," which surrounded her.
As from her residence she could be an eye-witness of few of the
events, the details of which she relates, her letters are of most
value as furnishing a lively exhibition of her own and of the public
feeling. One event, which passed under her own observation, she thus
describes: "In consequence of the powder being taken from Charlestown,
a general alarm spread through many towns, and was pretty soon caught
here. On Sunday, a soldier was seen lurking about, supposed to be a
spy, but most likely a deserter. However, intelligence of it was
communicated to the other parishes, and about eight o'clock, Sunday
evening, there passed by here about two hundred men, preceded by a
horse-cart, and marched down to the powder-house, from whence they
took the powder, and carried it into the other parish, and there
secreted it. I opened the window upon their return. They passed
without any noise,--not a word among them,--till they came against the
house, when some of them, perceiving me, asked me if I wanted any
powder. I replied, No, since it was in so good hands. The reason they
gave for taking it was, that we had so many tories here, they dared
not trust it; they had taken the sheriff in their train, and upon
their return they stopped between Cleverly's and Eltee's, and called
upon him to deliver two warrants.[1] Upon his producing them, they put
it to vote whether they should burn them, and it passed in the
affirmative. They then made a circle and burnt them. They then called
a vote whether they should huzza, but, it being Sunday evening, it
passed in the negative. * * * This town appears as high as you can
well imagine, and, if necessary, would soon be in arms. Not a tory
but hides his head. The church parson thought they were coming after
him, and ran up garret; they say another jumped out of his window, and
hid among the corn; while a third crept under his board fence, and
told his beads."
In the midst of her public cares and anxieties, she did not neglect
her sacred duties as a mother. The care of the education of her four
children devolved entirely upon her, and "Johnny" was at an age to
require much attention. This subject occupied much of her thoughts;
and, indeed, the greatest value of her published correspondence
consists in the hints which it gives us of the course of culture
pursued in producing those glorious fruits of which other generations
have had the enjoyment. She carefully guarded against the contagion of
vice at that period when the mind and heart are most susceptible to
impressions. "I have always thought it," she says to her husband, "of
very great importance that children should, in the early part of life,
be unaccustomed to such examples as would tend to corrupt the purity
of their words and actions, that they may chill with horror at the
sound of an oath, and blush with indignation at an obscene expression.
These first principles, which grow with their growth and strengthen
with their strength, neither time nor custom can totally eradicate."
By precept, and much more by example, she sought to instil principles,
and to form habits, which should lead to the practice of every virtue.
Can we be surprised at the abhorrence which her "illustrious son of an
illustrious mother" has ever exhibited to oppression, when we find her
thus expressing her sentiments in behalf of the oppressed, at a time
when the subject of which she speaks had not excited any attention
either in Europe or America?--"I wish sincerely there was not a slave
in the province; it always appeared to me a most iniquitous scheme to
fight ourselves for what we are daily robbing and plundering from
those who have as good a right to freedom as we have."
During the recess of Congress, Mr. Adams was at home, but left it
again for Philadelphia on the 14th April, 1775. Four days afterwards
the expedition to Lexington and Concord took place. The news of this
event reached Mr. A. at Hartford; he, did not, however, yield to his
anxieties and return, but contented himself by sending home
encouragement and advice. After saying that he never feels any
personal fear, he adds, "I am often concerned for you and our dear
babes, surrounded as you are by people who are too timorous, and too
much susceptible of alarm. Many fears and imaginary evils will be
suggested to you, but I hope you will not be impressed by them. In
case of real danger, fly to the woods with my children."
Mrs. Adams might be excused for entertaining fears; her residence was
near the sea-coast, and the enemy sent out foraging expeditions: the
point of destination was perhaps some island in the harbor; but of
this there could be no certainty. Of one of the alarms thus
occasioned, Mrs. Adams writes to her husband as follows: "I suppose
you have had a formidable account of the alarm we had last Sunday
morning. When I rose, about six o'clock, I was told that the drums had
been some time beating, and that three alarm guns were fired; that
Weymouth bell had been ringing, and Mr. Weld's was then ringing. I
sent off an express to learn the cause, and found the whole town in
confusion. Three sloops and a cutter had dropped anchor just below
Great Hill. It was difficult to tell their designs: some supposed they
were coming to Germantown, others to Weymouth: people, women,
children, came flocking down this way; every woman and child driven
off below my father's; my father's family flying. The alarm flew like
lightning, and men from all parts came flocking down, till two
thousand were collected. But it seems their expedition was to Grape
Island, for Levett's hay." "They delight," says she, on another
occasion, "in molesting us upon the Sabbath. Two Sabbaths we have been
in such alarm that we have had no meeting; this day we have sat under
our own vine in quietness; have heard Mr. Taft. The good man was
earnest and pathetic. I could forgive his weakness for the sake of his
sincerity; but I long for a Cooper and an Elliot. I want a person who
has feeling and sensibility; who can take one up with him,
And 'in his duty prompt at every call,'
Can 'watch, and weep, and pray, and feel for all.'"
The battle of Bunker's Hill followed soon, and, from the top of the
highest house in Braintree, Mrs. Adams beheld the conflagration of
Charlestown. But she does not lose her courage. In writing to her
husband, she seeks to lessen his anxieties. "I would not," says she,
"have you be distressed about me. I have been distressed, but not
dismayed. I have felt for my country and her sons, and have bled with
them and for them."
The appointment of General Washington to the command of the army, then
stationed at Cambridge, inspired new confidence. Mrs. Adams thus
speaks of the impression made by her first interview with him and
General Lee: "I was struck with General Washington. You had prepared
me to entertain a favorable opinion of him; but I thought the half was
not told me. Dignity with ease and complacency, the gentleman and
soldier, look agreeably blended in him. Modesty marks every line and
feature of his face. Those lines of Dryden instantly occurred to me--
'Mark his majestic fabric! he's a temple
Sacred by birth, and built by hands divine;
His soul's the deity that lodges there;
Nor is the pile unworthy of the god.'
General Lee looks like a careless, hardy veteran, and, by his
appearance, brought to my mind his namesake, Charles XII. of Sweden.
The elegance of his pen far exceeds that of his person."
The horrors of war were now aggravated by those of pestilence. From
the British army in Boston, the dysentery had spread into the
surrounding country. Mrs. Adams and her whole family were attacked.
"Our house," she writes to her husband, September 8, 1775, "is a
hospital in every part, and, what with my own weakness and distress of
mind for my family, I have been unhappy enough. And such is the
distress of the neighborhood, that I can scarcely find a well person
to assist me in looking after the sick." Again on the 25th she writes,
"I sit with a heavy heart to write to you. Woe follows woe, and one
affliction treads upon the heels of another. My distress in my own
family having in some measure abated, it is excited anew upon that of
my dear mother. She has taken the disorder, and lies so bad, that we
have little hope of her recovery." On the 29th, "It is allotted me to
go from the sick and almost dying bed of one of the best of parents,
to my own habitation, where again I behold the same scene, only varied
by a remoter connection--
'A bitter change, severer for severe.'
You can more easily conceive than I can describe what are the
sensations of my heart when absent from either, continually expecting
a messenger with the fatal tidings." "The desolation of war is not so
distressing as the havoc made by pestilence. Some poor parents are
mourning the loss of three, four, and five children; and some families
are wholly stripped of every member."
But the hand of the pestilence was stayed, and her country again
engrosses her thoughts. She very early declares herself for
independence, and wonders how any honest heart can hesitate at
adopting the same sentiment. An attempt to drive the enemy from Boston
is meditated, and she tells us that she has been kept in a state of
anxiety and expectation. "It has been said 'to-morrow' and 'to-morrow'
for this month; but when this dreadful to-morrow will be, I know not.
But hark! The house this instant shakes with the roar of cannon. I
have been to the door, and find it a cannonade from our army." The
militia are all ordered to repair to the lines. The result was thus
related: "I have just returned from Penn's Hill, where I have been
sitting to hear the amazing roar of cannon, and from whence I could
see every shell which was thrown. The sound, I think, is one of the
grandest in nature, and is of the true species of the sublime. * * * I
could no more sleep than if I had been in the engagement: the rattling
of the windows, the jar of the house, the continual roar of
twenty-four pounders, and the bursting of shells, give us such ideas,
and realize a scene to us of which we could form scarcely any
conception. * * * All my distress and anxiety is at present at an end.
I feel disappointed. This day our militia are all returning without
effecting any thing more than taking possession of Dorchester Hill. I
hope it is wise and just, but, from all the muster and stir, I hoped
and expected more important and decisive scenes. I would not have
suffered all I have for two such hills." The British soon afterwards
evacuated Boston, and Massachusetts never again became the theatre of
war.
In 1778, the fortitude of Mrs. Adams received a new trial. Her husband
was appointed one of the commissioners at the court of France. The sea
was covered with the enemy's ships; and, should he escape these and
all the natural dangers of the seas, and arrive at the place of his
destination in safety, rumor said that he would there be exposed to
one of a more terrific character, "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," continues Mrs. Adams, writing soon after her husband's
departure, "travelled with you across the 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, in
the painful part which it has pleased Heaven to allot me; but the
intelligence with regard to that great philosopher, able statesman,
and unshaken friend of his country,"--alluding to a report of Dr.
Franklin's assassination in Paris,--"has planted a dagger in my
breast, and I feel with a double edge the weapon that pierced his
bosom. * * * To my dear son remember me in the most affectionate
terms. Enjoin it upon him never to disgrace his mother, and to behave
worthily of his father. I console myself with the hopes of his reaping
advantages under the careful eye of a tender parent, which it was not
in my power to bestow." Mr. Adams was accompanied by his eldest son,
John Quincy Adams, and, after incurring various hazards from
lightning, storm, and the enemy, arrived in France. The maternal
solicitude of Mrs. Adams relieved itself in part by writing letters to
her son filled with the warmest affection and the most wise counsel.
She urges it upon him "to adhere to those religious sentiments and
principles which were early instilled into your mind, and remember
that you are accountable to your Maker for all your words and actions.
Great learning and superior abilities, should you ever possess them,
will be of little value and small estimation, unless virtue, honor,
truth, and integrity, are added to them. Dear as you are to me, I
would much rather you should have found a grave in the ocean you have
crossed, than see you an immoral, profligate, or graceless child."
As has already been said, Mrs. Adams managed her husband's money
affairs at home. A short extract from one of her business letters to
him may be interesting, and will show how a matter always troublesome
was in such times doubly so: "The safest way, you tell me, of
supplying my wants, is by drafts; but I cannot get hard money for
bills. You had as good tell me to procure diamonds for them; and when
bills will fetch but five for one, hard money will exchange ten, which
I think is very provoking; and I must give at the rate of ten, and
sometimes twenty, for one, for every article I purchase. I blush
whilst I give you a price current; all meat from a dollar to eight
shillings a pound; corn twenty-five dollars, rye thirty, per bushel;
flour two hundred dollars per hundred pounds; potatoes ten dollars per
bushel, &c. I have studied, and do study, every method of economy;
otherwise a mint of money would not support a family. I could not
board our sons under forty dollars a week at school. * * * We have
been greatly distressed for grain. I scarcely know the looks or taste
of biscuit or flour for this four months; yet thousands have been much
worse off, having no grain of any sort." Nor were things then at the
worst; for in October, 1780, we find "meat eight dollars, and butter
twelve, per pound; corn one hundred and twenty dollars, and rye one
hundred and eight, per bushel; tea ninety dollars, and cotton wool
thirty, per pound." But our readers must not suppose that this was
entirely owing to a scarcity of products; these prices are in
"continental money," seventy dollars of which would hardly command one
of "hard money."
Hitherto Mr. Adams's residence had seemed too unsettled to render it
worth while for his wife to undertake a long and dangerous voyage to
meet him. But after the acknowledgment of our independence by Great
Britain, a commission was sent to Mr. Adams as first minister to that
court; and it was probable that his residence there would be
sufficiently long to justify him in a request to Mrs. Adams to join
him. The feelings of the latter on the subject were thus expressed
before the appointment was actually made: "I have not a wish to join
in a scene of life so different from that in which I have been
educated, and in which my early, and, I must suppose, happier days
have been spent. Well-ordered home is my chief delight, and the
affectionate, domestic wife, with the relative duties which accompany
that character, my highest ambition. It was the disinterested wish of
sacrificing my personal feelings to the public utility, which first
led me to think of unprotectedly hazarding a voyage. This objection
could only be surmounted by the earnest wish I had to soften those
toils which were not to be dispensed with; and if the public welfare
required your labors and exertions abroad, I flattered myself that, if
I could be with you, it might be in my power to contribute to your
happiness and pleasure." "I think, if you were abroad in a private
character, 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."
In spite, however, of this reluctance, she embarked on board the
_Active_, a merchant ship, for London. Of this voyage Mrs. Adams
has given a most graphic and not very agreeable picture; and nothing
can present a greater contrast than her dirty, close, narrow
quarters, on board a vessel deeply loaded with oil and potash,--the
oil leaking, and the potash smoking and fermenting,--with the
floating palaces in which the voyage is now made. The culinary
department was in keeping with the rest of the ship. "The cook was a
great, dirty, lazy negro, with no more knowledge of cookery than a
savage; nor any kind of order in the distribution of his dishes; but
on they come, higgledy-piggledy, with a leg of pork all bristly; a
quarter of an hour afterwards, a pudding; or, perhaps, a pair of roast
fowls first of all, and then will follow, one by one, a piece of
beef, and, when dinner is nearly completed, a plate of potatoes. Such
a fellow is a real imposition upon the passengers. But gentlemen
know but little about the matter, and if they can get enough to eat
five times a day, all goes well." Yet the passengers, of whom there
were a number, were agreeable, and, as the wind and weather were
favorable, the voyage did not last more than thirty days.
She hoped to have found Mr. Adams in London, but he was at the Hague;
and "Master John," after waiting a month for her in London, had
returned to the latter place. She received, however, every attention
from the numerous Americans then in London, refugees as well as
others, many of whom had been her personal friends at home. Ten days
were spent in sight-seeing, on the last of which a servant comes
running in, exclaiming, "Young Mr. Adams has come!" "Where, where is
he?" cried out all. "In the other house, madam; he stopped to get his
hair dressed." "Impatient enough I was," continues Mrs. A.; "yet, when
he entered, we had so many strangers, that I drew back, not really
believing my eyes, till he cried out, 'O my mamma, and my dear
sister!' Nothing but the eyes, at first sight, appeared what he once
was. His appearance is that of a man, and on his countenance the most
perfect good-humor; his conversation by no means denies his stature."
Her first year in Europe was spent at Auteuil, near Paris, and she
seems to have enjoyed herself, in spite of her ignorance of the
language; though she sometimes expresses her longing for home and the
enjoyment of social intercourse with her friends in America. Her
letters, during this period, present us with a lively picture of the
state of society and of manners. We have space only for her account of
her first visit to madame de la Fayette. "The marquise met me at the
door, and with the freedom of an old acquaintance, and the rapture
peculiar to the ladies of this nation, caught me by the hand, and gave
me a salute upon each cheek. She presented me to her mother and
sister, who were present with her, all sitting in her bedroom, quite
_en famille_. One of the ladies was knitting. The marquise herself was
in a chintz gown. She is a middle-sized lady, sprightly and
agreeable, and professes herself strongly attached to Americans. She
is fond of her children, and very attentive to them, which is not the
general character of ladies of high rank in Europe. In a few days, she
returned my visit, upon which I sent her a card of invitation to dine.
She came. We had a large company. There is not a lady in our country
who would have gone abroad to dine so little dressed; and one of our
fine American ladies, who sat by me, whispered to me, 'Good heavens!
how awfully she is dressed!' I could not forbear returning the
whisper, which I most sincerely despised, by replying that the lady's
rank sets her above the little formalities of dress. The rouge, 'tis
true, was not so artfully laid on, as upon the faces of the American
ladies who were present. Whilst they were glittering with diamonds,
buckles, watch-chains, girdle-buckles, &c., the marquise was nowise
ruffled by her own different appearance. A really well-bred
Frenchwoman has the most ease in her manners that you can possibly
conceive of."
In June, 1784, Mr. Adams took up his residence in London. His
situation and that of his wife was far from being a pleasant one. The
hostile feelings towards Americans, engendered by so many years of
warfare, and exasperated by the mortification of ill-success, had not
subsided. The loss of his North American colonies was severely felt by
the king, who had too much good sense, however, to suffer his feelings
to appear in his intercourse with the new minister; but the queen,
who, though exemplary in the discharge of domestic duties, was
weak-minded, proud, and petulant, could not conceal her bitterness,
and her conduct towards Mrs. Adams was hardly civil. Perhaps, however,
the account of it given by the latter is colored by her own prejudices
against the royal family, which, throughout her life were expressed in
the strongest language, and which, towards the king, at least, were
entirely unjust. Her presentation at court could not but be somewhat
embarrassing and awkward to all parties. The manner in which it passed
shall be related in her own words. "The ceremony of presentation is
considered as indispensable. One is obliged to attend the circles of
the queen, which are held in summer once a fortnight, but once a week
the rest of the year; and what renders it very expensive, is, that you
cannot go twice the same season in the same dress, and a court dress
cannot be used any where else. I directed my mantua-maker to let my
dress be elegant, but as plain as it could be, with decency;
accordingly it is white lutestring, covered and full trimmed with
white crape, festooned with lilac ribbon and mock point lace, over a
hoop of enormous extent; a narrow train of three yards, which is put
into a ribbon on the left side, the queen only having a train-bearer.
Ruffle cuffs, treble lace ruffles, a very dress cap, with long lace
lappets, two white plumes, and a blond lace handkerchief--this is my
rigging. I should have mentioned two pearl pins in my hair, ear-rings
and necklace of the same kind. * * * 'Well,' methinks I hear you say,
'what is your daughter's dress?' White, my dear girls, like her
mother's, only differently trimmed; her train being wholly of white
crape, and trimmed with white ribbon; the petticoat, which is the
most showy part of the dress, covered and drawn up in what are called
festoons, with light wreaths of beautiful flowers; sleeves white
crape, drawn over the silk, with a row of lace round the sleeve, near
the shoulder, another half way down the arm, and a third upon the top
of the ruffle, a little flower stuck between; a kind of hat cap, with
three large feathers, and a bunch of flowers; a wreath of flowers upon
the hair. * * * We were placed in a circle round the drawing-room,
which was very full, I believe two hundred persons present. The royal
family have to go to every person, and find small talk enough to speak
to all, though they very prudently speak in a whisper. The king
enters, and goes round to the right; the queen and princesses to the
left. The king is a personable man, but with a red face and white
eyebrows. The queen has a similar face, and the numerous royal family
resemble them. When the king came to me, Lord Onslaw said, 'Mrs.
Adams;' upon which I drew off my right hand glove, and his majesty
saluted my left cheek, then asked me if I had taken a walk to-day. I
could have told his majesty that I had been all the morning preparing
to wait upon him; but I replied, 'No, sire.' 'Why, don't you love
walking?' says he. I answered that I was rather indolent in that
respect. He then bowed and passed on. It was more than two hours after
this, before it came my turn to be presented to the queen. She was
evidently embarrassed when I was presented to her. I had disagreeable
feelings too. She, however, said, 'Mrs. Adams, have you got into your
house? Pray, how do you like the situation of it?' whilst the royal
princess looked compassionate, and asked me if I was not much
fatigued. Her sister, Princess Augusta, after having asked your niece
if she was ever in England before, and her answering, 'Yes,' inquired
of me how long ago, and supposed it was when she was very young. And
all this with much affability, and the ease and freedom of old
acquaintance. * * * As to the ladies of the court, rank and title may
compensate for want of personal charms; but they are, in general, very
plain, ill-shaped, and ugly; but don't you tell any body that I say
so; the observation did not hold good, that fine feathers make fine
birds." Referring to this same occasion in a subsequent letter, she
says, "I own that I never felt myself in a more contemptible situation
than when I stood four hours together for a gracious smile from
majesty, a witness to the anxious solicitude of those around me for
the same mighty _boon_. I, however, had a more dignified honor, as his
majesty _deigned to salute me_."
Of other sources of annoyance Mrs. Adams thus speaks: "Some years
hence, it may be a pleasure to reside here in the character of
American minister; but, with the present salary, and the present
temper of the English, no one need envy the embassy. There would soon
be fine work, if any notice was taken of their billingsgate and abuse;
but all their arrows rebound, and fall harmless to the ground. Amidst
all their falsehoods, they have never insinuated a lisp against the
private character of the American minister, nor in his public line
charged him with either want of abilities, honor, or integrity. The
whole venom is levelled against poor America, and every effort to make
her appear ridiculous in the eyes of the nation."
It would have been difficult to find a person better adapted than Mrs.
Adams for the trying situation in which she found herself. In other
times, a woman of more yielding temper, who could adapt herself more
readily to those about her, would, perhaps, answer better. Love of
country was engrained in her; for her "the birds of Europe had not
half the melody of those at home; the fruit was not half so sweet, nor
the flowers half so fragrant, nor the manners half so pure, nor the
people half so virtuous." Three years' residence in England produced
no change of feeling. In anticipation of a return to her home, we find
her writing thus: "I shall quit Europe with more pleasure than I came
to it, uncontaminated, I hope, with its manners and vices. I have
learned to know the world and its value; I have seen high life; I have
witnessed the luxury and pomp of state, the power of riches, and the
influence of titles, and have beheld all ranks bow before them, as the
only shrine worthy of worship. Notwithstanding this, I feel that I can
return to my little cottage, and be happier than here; and, if we have
not wealth, we have what is better--integrity."
Soon after Mr. Adams's return, he was elected vice-president of the
United States, and took up his residence, at least during the sessions
of Congress, first at New York, and afterwards at Philadelphia. The
"court" of General Washington was much more to the taste of Mrs. Adams
than that of George III.; the circle at the first "drawing-room," she
tells us, was very brilliant; that "the dazzling Mrs. Bingham and her
charming sisters were there; in short, a constellation of beauties."
The next eight years of her life, during which her husband held the
office of vice-president, were passed with few incidents to disturb
her happiness. Another generation, the children of her daughter, who
was married to Colonel Smith, were receiving the benefits of her
instruction and experience.
A residence at Philadelphia was not favorable to her health, which,
never having been very firm, about this period began decidedly to
fail. The bracing air of Quincy was found to be more congenial. For
this reason, she was not with her husband at the time when his
official duty required him to announce himself as the successor to
General Washington; and to this circumstance we are indebted for the
following letter,--written on the day on which the votes were counted
by the Senate,--in which, says her biographer, "the exalted feeling of
the moment shines out with all the lustre of ancient patriotism,
chastened by a sentiment of Christian humility of which ancient
history furnishes no example:"--
"QUINCY, _February 8th, 1797_.
"'The sun is dressed in brightest beams,
To give thy honors to the day.'
And may it prove an auspicious prelude to each ensuing season. You
have this day to declare yourself head of a nation. 'And now, O
Lord, thou hast made thy servant ruler over the people. Give unto
him an understanding heart, that he may know how to go out and
come in before this great people; that he may discern between good
and bad. For who is able to judge this thy so great a people?'
were the words of a royal sovereign, and not less applicable to
him who is invested with the chief magistracy of a nation, though
he wear not a crown, nor the robes of royalty. My thoughts and my
meditations are with you, though personally absent; and my
petitions to Heaven are, that the 'things which make for peace may
not be hidden from your eyes.' My feelings are not those of pride
or ostentation. They are solemnized by a sense of the obligations,
the important trusts, and numerous duties, connected with it. That
you may be enabled to discharge them with honor to yourself, with
justice and impartiality to your country, and with satisfaction to
this great people, shall be the daily prayer of your