Cold in my professions--warm in my friendships--I wish, my dear
Laurens, it were in my power, by actions, rather than words, to
convince you that I love you. I shall only tell you, that till you bid
us adieu, I hardly knew the value you had taught my heart to set upon
you. Indeed, my friend, it was not well done. You know the opinion I
entertain of mankind; and how much it is my desire to preserve myself
free from particular attachments, and to keep my happiness independent
of the caprices of others. You should not have taken advantage of my
sensibility, to steal into my affections without my consent.
But as you have done it, and as we are generally indulgent to those
we love, I shall not scruple to pardon the fraud you have committed,
on one condition; that for my sake, if not for your own, you will
continue to merit the partiality which you have so artfully instilled
into me. I have received your two letters: one from Philadelphia, the
other from Chester. I am pleased with your success so far; and I hope
the favorable omens that precede your application to the Assembly,
may have as favorable an issue; provided the situation of affairs
should require it, which I fear will be the case. But, both for your
country’s sake and for my own, I wish the enemy may be gone from
Georgia before you arrive; and that you may be obliged to return, and
share the fortunes of your old friends. In respect to the commission
which you received from Congress, all the world must think your conduct
perfectly right. Indeed, your ideas upon this occasion seem not to
have their wonted accuracy; and you have had scruples, in a great
measure, without foundation. By your appointment as Aid-de-Camp to the
Commander-in-Chief, you had as much the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel
as any officer in the line. Your receiving a commission as
Lieutenant-Colonel, from the date of that appointment, does not, in
the least, injure or interfere with one of them; unless, by virtue of
it, you are introduced into a particular regiment, in violation of the
right of succession, which is not the case at present, neither is it
a necessary consequence. As you were going to command a battalion, it
was proper you should have a commission; and if this commission had
been dated posterior to your appointment as Aid-de-Camp, I should have
considered it derogatory to your former rank, to mine, and to that of
the whole corps. The only thing I see wrong in the affair is this:
Congress, by their conduct, both on the former and present occasion,
appear to have intended to confer a privilege, an honor, a mark of
distinction, a something upon you, which they withheld from other
gentlemen of the family. This carries with it an air of preference,
which, though we can all truly say we love your character and admire
your military merit, cannot fail to give some of us uneasy sensations.
But in this, my dear, I wish you to understand me well. The blame, if
there is any, falls wholly upon Congress. I repeat it, your conduct has
been perfectly right, and even laudable. You rejected the offer when
you ought to have rejected it; and you accepted it when you ought to
have accepted it; and let me add, with a degree of over-scrupulous
delicacy. It was necessary to your project. Your project was the public
good; and I should have done the same. In hesitating, you have refined
on the refinements of generosity.
There is a total stagnation of news here. Gates has refused the Indian
command. Sullivan is come to take it. The former has lately given a
fresh proof of his impudence, his folly, and his *********. ’Tis no
great matter; but a peculiarity in the case prevents my saying what.
Fleury shall be taken care of. All the family send love. In this, join
the General and Mrs. Washington; and what is best, it is not in the
style of ceremony, but sincerity.