Philadelphia, March, 1782.
A half hour since brought me the pleasure of your letter of December
last. It went to Albany and came from thence to this place. I heartily
felicitate you on the birth of your daughter. I can well conceive your
happiness on that occasion, by that which I feel on a similar one.
Indeed, the sensations of a tender father of the child of a beloved
mother, can only be conceived by those who have experienced them.
Your heart, my Meade, is peculiarly formed for enjoyments of this
kind. You have every right to be a happy husband--a happy father. You
have every prospect of being so. I hope your felicity may never be
interrupted.
You cannot imagine how entirely domestic I am growing. I lose all taste
for the pursuits of ambition. I sigh for nothing but the company of
my wife and my baby. The ties of duty alone, or imagined duty, keep
me from renouncing public life altogether. It is, however, probable
I may not any longer be engaged in it. I have explained to you the
difficulties which I met with in obtaining a command last campaign. I
thought it incompatible with the delicacy due to myself, to make any
application this campaign. I have expressed this sentiment in a letter
to the General, and, retaining my rank only, have relinquished the
emoluments of my commission, declaring myself, notwithstanding, ready
at all times to obey the calls of the public. I don’t expect to hear
any of these, unless the state of our affairs should change for the
worse, and lest by any unforeseen accident that would happen, I choose
to keep myself in a situation again to contribute my aid. This prevents
a total resignation.
You were right in supposing I neglected to prepare what I promised you
at Philadelphia. The truth is, I was in such a hurry to get home that I
could think of nothing else. As I set out to-morrow morning for Albany,
I cannot from this place, send you the matter you wish.
Imagine, my dear Meade, what pleasure it must give Eliza and myself
to know that Mrs. Meade interests herself in us. Without a personal
acquaintance, we have been long attached to her. My visit at Mr.
Fitzhugh’s confirmed my partiality. Betsy is so fond of your family,
that she proposes to form a match between her boy and your girl,
provided you will engage to make the latter as amiable as her mother.
Truly, my dear Meade, I often regret that fortune has cast our
residence at such a distance from each other. It would be a serious
addition to my happiness if we lived where I could see you every day;
but fate has determined it otherwise. I am a little hurried, and can
only request, in addition, that you will present me most affectionately
to Mrs. Meade, and believe me to be,
With the warmest
And most unalterable friendship,
Yours,
A. Hamilton.