Philadelphia, 16 March, 1777.
The spring advances very rapidly, and all nature will soon be clothed in
her gayest robes. The green grass which begins to show itself here and
there revives in my longing imagination my little farm and its dear
inhabitants. What pleasure has not this vile war deprived me of? I want
to wander in my meadows, to ramble over my mountains, and to sit, in
solitude or with her who has all my heart, by the side of the brooks.
These beautiful scenes would contribute more to my happiness than the
sublime ones which surround me. I begin to suspect that I have not much
of the grand in my composition. The pride and pomp of war, the continual
sound of drums and fifes as well played as any in the world, the
prancings and tramplings of the Light Horse, numbers of whom are paraded
in the streets every day, have no charms for me. I long for rural and
domestic scenes, for the warbling of birds and prattle of my children.
Don't you think I am somewhat poetical this morning, for one of my
years, and considering the gravity and insipidity of my employment? As
much as I converse with sages and heroes, they have very little of my
love or admiration. I should prefer the delights of a garden to the
dominion of a world. I have nothing of Caesar's greatness in my soul.
Power has not my wishes in her train. The Gods, by granting me health
and peace and competence, the society of my family and friends, the
perusal of my books, and the enjoyment of my farm and garden, would make
me as happy as my nature and state will bear. Of that ambition which
has power for its object, I don't believe I have a spark in my heart.
There are other kinds of ambition of which I have a great deal.[165]
I am now situated in a pleasant part of the town, in Walnut Street, on
the south side of it, between Second and Third Streets, at the house of
Mr. Duncan, a gentleman from Boston, who has a wife and three children.
General Wolcott, of Connecticut, and Colonel Whipple, of Portsmouth, are
with me in the same house. Mr. Adams has removed to Mrs. Cheesman's, in
Fourth Street, near the corner of Market Street, where he has a curious
group of company, consisting of characters as opposite as north and
south. Ingersoll, the stamp man and Judge of Admiralty; Sherman, an old
Puritan, as honest as an angel and as firm in the cause of American
independence as Mount Atlas; and Colonel Thornton, as droll and funny as
Tristram Shandy. Between the fun of Thornton, the gravity of Sherman,
and the formal Toryism of Ingersoll, Adams will have a curious life of
it. The landlady, too, who has buried four husbands, one tailor, two
shoemakers, and Gilbert Tenant, and still is ready for a fifth, and well
deserves him too, will add to the entertainment. Gerry and Lovell are
yet at Miss Leonard's, under the auspices of Mrs. Yard. Mr. Hancock has
taken a house in Chestnut Street, near the corner of Fourth Street, near
the State House.