Since my last my time has been cheifly occupied, in attending to those services, which were due to our late worthy Nephew—1 Though we had been in daily expectation of his dissolution, & every breath he drew seemed as if I heard a voice, saying “Sister Spirit come away”2 yet it was a sudden stroke at the close— As he called the watcher who set by him, Aunt, I suppose he took her for me; & I was perswaded to go & lie down; sleep, I did not expect— I presumed that was mounted upon its airy pinions— I had no sooner thrown my head upon my pillow, than I was roused by his distressing exertions to raise, I heard him speak “call the Dr. give me a puke I shall die”—& then an awful silence ensued— it was not dificult to guess the cause— the watchers met me, he is gone—he is gone was their exclamation— I suppose an ulcer broke, & suffocated him— thus ended the short life of the sober minded, patient, once healthy blooming Charles—& may his budding virtues, blossom in an happier, less tempestous Clime—

I feared his Mother, & Sisters would think his Funeral was appointed at so early a period, as to preclude the Opportunity of their attending even if they had earnestly desired it— I thought they would not come, & as I found it would interrupt Mr Atwoods buisness to have it deffered, as he shut up his Shop I thought it best to let him suit his convenience, & have the funeral when he pleased— I returned home thursday P M, & sent back Betsey Quincy, & her Sister that night— William hired an horse for himself, & we took Cousin John in the Chaise the next day with us— I think 251 there were twelve of us went down to his Funeral— The near neighbours, & connections were desired to walk as mourners, & it being a pleasant day, there was a large concourse who payed the last tribute of respect to a youth, deservedly dear to all his acquaintance—

It is a great satisfaction to me that I have been able to attend my Nephew during his painful Sickness— nothing but having him in my own house could have given me more— Mr Atwood is one of the most benevolent of men— The great beneficent Parent must behold him with pleasure, for “God loveth a chearful Giver”3—& there has been nothing spared, that could tend to make Charles easy, & comfortable— It is really a charming Family, & I am convinced that those virtues of the heart which dignify human nature, are not confined to time, or place, but are found where we have least reason to expect them, & often flourish most in an humble station—

I have desired Mr Atwood to collect all the bills The Drs, Nurses, Porters—&cccc ready for me to lay before you, & Dr Tufts— I presume Charles had Cash nearly enough to answer the chief of those— I told Mr Atwood he must think what his own bill will be, & let me know soon as he could what his expences had been— He frequently told me while Charles was sick, that he should charge nothing for his own trouble, but I know the expence occasioned by watchers, two in a night frequently, which were generously treated must be great—& the handsome provision made at the funeral of Coffee, tea, wine &cc must be more than he ought to do— At first I felt loth to stay at his house— Charles was easier, & I went home a day, or two, but he sent his Chaise for me a Sabbath day, & said I must stay, with Charles, & his wife, that he loved to have me with them, & should not feel easy if I, were not— Betsy went & watched with Charles twice, but the poor Girl beged so for me to come again if I were not sick, that I told her I would not leave him— I hope her Cousins sick Chamber may prove salutary to her immortal Spirit, & though painful to the body, yet happy for her Soul— Mr Abbot prayed, that the near friend of equal age who with affectionate concern had watched his pillow, might have such a sense of divine things, such important realities impressed upon her mind as should not be erased by time, or the vicissitudes of Life— He knew the circumstances of the Family, & most fervently prayed for the absent Mother, Brethren, & Sisters, that they might be supplyd with every needful Blessing, & those consolations which their particular circumstances required— It was a most excellent prayer, presented upon the alter of my heart, I hope an acceptable Sacrifice—

I told Mr Atwood that his Sister had been a most attentive, neat, kind nurse, that I would have her paid the usual price, & something handsome given her— He kindly told me, I must not think of giving her less than eight or ten Dollars, for she was high spirited, & he had rather give a part back to me, than not have her gratified—& pleased— I thanked him for his frankness, & said, she had payed Charles those attentions which no money could purchase—& ought to be rewarded—4 I wish for your counsel, & advice—

The exertions which I had made to keep well, that I might behave with true magninimity of Soul, through the gloomy Scenes, & various duties I was necessarily engaged in, shattered my feeble Bark— It was the twenty-ninth day of September, that I was called to attend my dear Charles to his dark mansions; a day, to me ever memorable—for thoughts which are improper for me to utter—5 In awful Silence, I adore & tremble—

Thy divine attributes are conspicuous in all thy works, & in all thy dealings, O thou great arbiter of Events!— Thy righteousness is as a mountain, which no human Eye can pervade, & thy Judgments a great deep, which no mortal man can fathom.— Impressed with a sense of thy all surrounding power, I join the Psalmist in that grateful apostrophe, How excellent is thy loving kindness, how great is thy goodness O my God! therefore in humble reliance upon thy mercy, will I ever put my trust, under the shadow of thy wings, & confide to thy arms my fatherless Children— These were the reflections which occured, while with solemn steps, & slow, I passed from Grave, to Grave till I came to the house appointed—till I reached that, which, though no stone told where he laid, I could easily perceive One, over which the turf was scarcely closed & whose green had not yet received its wonted hue— I turned from this melting scene, with this petition,—though our Sins have been as scarlet, may we be white as Snow, washed in the blood of the Lamb, & though these vile bodies of ours, may moulder in the dust, may we all rise in Glory, & be permitted to join the celestial Choir in ceaseless Hallelujahs—6

I have had a charming visit from Mr. & Mrs Smith.

I had been quite sick all day, but I would not suffer the gloom I felt at my heart, to interrupt the pleasure of their visit— By them the kind present you sent to Betsy Quincy came safe to hand, for which she most cordially thanks you— Mrs Smith told me how good you had been to my Son, & that he looked finely—how thankful shall I be, if he does but do credit, & honour to his benefactors— I feel a 253 peculiar pleasure in endeavouring to serve your Grand-children, in every respect—either body, or mind, we wish to pour the “fresh instruction” into their tender minds, & lead them to habits of virtue, that they may reach the temple of honour, & like their ancestor, be crowned with unfading laurels—7

Mr Vose says William does well with learning english Grammer, but 2 years makes some difference, & as John is not so good a reader, he had better be kept to that, & to writing at present— They are neither of them bad tempered— William is orderly, & attends to reasoning, John hears, & is faulty the next moment— Mr Peabody is very kind to them, but is resolute in exacting proper obedience— Limited monarchy is the best Government— It is as necessary in large families to have the power vested in one, & to be obeyed, as in states, & kingdoms—

We are doing your Childrens stocks with some mixed blue yarn, I had left of my sons— they will do in the snow better than wosted— I have put away all their best shirts, & keep the old ones in wear— If you will send cotton, for three a peice, Betsy Q shall make them— The little fellows are charming well, & hearty & I believe happy, I intended writing to their dear Mamma, but I have had something the Dr says of a slow fever all the week, I have taken two large portions of Cinnce, & feel a little better—8 If I were well, I would not send this ill written letter— May heaven direct your steps, & preserve you, & yours in health prays your Sister

Give my love to Louisa

John & William have written letters, & sealed them, before they brought them to me, I would have corrected them if they had not, you will please to excuse their errors—9 pray do not forget Scate[s]—10

It is but a few days since I received your kind letter of 14. July, brought to Holland by Genl: Marshall, and forwarded to me here. The pamphlets also which you have been kind enough to send me have come to hand. I value them much not only for the advantage of perusing them, but because I am endeavouring to preserve a collection of such publications. My state of continual motion is indeed very unfavourable to this purpose, for it often prevents packets destined to me, from arriving. For instance I have not to this day received the pamphlet containing the correspondence upon the subject of the refusal by the Directory of France to receive Genl: Pinckney last Winter, and as this makes a very material chasm in the series of my State Papers, I shall request you to forward me one of them— It was printed towards the last of May, and is the more material to me, as it contains (so I am informed) extracts of one or two of my own Letters to the Secretary of State.1

Mr: Harper’s Observations upon the dispute between the United States and France are very valuable, and must I think prove very useful.2 The facts I think are very correctly stated, and the Spirit with which they are commented is truly American. I rejoyce to see that Spirit thus coming forth, and hope to see more of it than any of our Enemies expect.— It becomes every person of information and character to detect and expose that base and hypocritical villainy of faction, which endeavours to load with the odium of being under British Influence, every Man who is not the servile or the venal tool of France.— Mr: Harpers example will I hope be followed, and the sooner we can ascertain who are the true, unmingled Americans, the better.— I have seen enough, and more than enough of those characters who would slide along between the two parties, with the hope of sharing in the triumph of either, under the pretence at present of belonging to none. Randolph’s catastrophe, made me sick of such personages.— Solon was right in subjecting to severe penalties every Citizen who refused to take his side, in great public controversies.3

The elaborate pamphlet against the late President, is apparently of french origin. The french idiom is manifest in every page, and the translation is poorly done, for they have been obliged to help it with an explanatory glossary by way of notes.— Yet I think Randolph must have some hand in it: for what other man upon earth could quote Randolph’s pamphlet and Fauchet’s certificate as authorities4

As to Washington’s character, it is one of the fortunate things of his fortunate life, to be attacked by such beings as Randolph and Payne, and this pamphleteer; that is by men of some talents, and more popularity, full to the brim of the foulest and most malignant venom that the human heart can engender. Against such a life and such virtues, secured and sanctioned as they are by retirement, no talents, no malice can avail, and publications like those which have been levelled at him, only expose the authors to disgrace, and will serve in future to be quoted as the tests by which his virtue was proved, as the fires from which it issued only brightened in its lustre.

But in the pamphlet which you sent me, the attack upon Washington, is a mere feint to cover an attack upon the Constitution. You know that the plan for this attack has long been laid, and the substantial object of it fully understood.— I confess that I was not a little diverted at reading the laboured and pompous panegyric upon the wisdom of the french Constitution in establishing a Directory of five persons, at a moment, when three of the five had just expelled and proscribed the other two, by mere military force, and in the most undisguised and unblushing violation of that wonderful Constitution; nor did I avoid remarking, that Carnot so emphatically eulogised in the pamphlet as the great author and organizer of the stupendous Republican french victories, was at the time when I read this encomium, one of those very two directors, thus expelled and proscribed by his three Colleagues, without, the forms of a trial or even the ceremony of an accusation.5 The convulsion of the 18th: fructidor (4th: of September) displays in such a striking manner the merits and operation of this boasted Constitution, that I have drawn up very hastily at such leisure as I could snatch while preparing for my departure from this place, some observations upon that Event; which you will see, and read if you have the Patience to go through them.— They are founded upon the facts as stated by the prevailing party; the party so loud in crying up the Constitution which they have sacrificed: they rest principally too upon official documents.6

Mr: Smith arrived at Lisbon about the 25th: of August. I have a letter from him of that date. Mr: Gerry arrived at Rotterdam the 19th: of last month. I have a letter from him dated there on the 24th:—7 Genl: Marshall had arrived before him and with Genl: Pinckney had proceeded to Paris where they arrived on the 28th:— The commission in my opinion is excellently composed, but for any reconciliation worth having there must be a favourable and an honest temper on both sides.— My hopes are but small.— In general the American diplomacy in Europe,—myself excepted, is now as well chosen as can be wished— The men are all honest, and able.— In excepting myself I do not mean a silly disqualifying salvo. I cannot be contented with my last appointment.

My old school mate Bache has indeed been so industrious in making his praise slander and his slander praise, that abuse from his press, is at least what as a lawyer I should call prima facie evidence of merit. I feel therefore some satisfaction in being the object of it.— But the appointment to Berlin was objectionable on two grounds.— It had a bad face: for it looked like a nomination by the President of his own Son to high office; it was not well-timed for it was I think the very first nomination, after the opposite example of the Predecessor— It was not in fact a promotion of me, but it looked like it.— A train of reasoning, a recurrence to other facts was necessary to answer cavillers against it. The first appearance of things, is a point which deserves some attention.

When from the appearance you turn to the reality: I had been destined as Minister Plenipotentiary to Lisbon; but for the expences of the voyage and journey there; or what is called the outfit, I had been allowed only half the usual sum.— I had been at all this expence, had taken my own passage and that for all my baggage, and had even engaged an house there, when I am at once ordered back to the other extremity of Europe, with a new voyage and journey necessarily and inevitably very expensive, without the addition of a farthing to my previous half-allowance.—8 I received therefore an office at once invidious in appearance, and oppressive in reality.— But I have done with this subject, which I have not willingly renewed. My Country has every claim upon me; if her service were merely a bed of roses, it would not be a worthy incitement to ambition.— As for Bache,—he was once my school mate; one of the companions of those infant years when the heart should be open to strong and deep impressions of attachment, and never should admit any durable sentiment of hatred or malice. There is a degree of 257 regard and tenderness that mingles itself in my recollection of every individual with whom I ever stood in that relation— The school and the College are the sources of the dearest friendships; they ought never to be those of malevolence or Envy.— Bache has none of these feelings, or he would not have been the vehicle of abuse upon me, at least during my absence from the Country.— But he cannot hurt me.

That the President retains his Spirits and fortitude unshaken is what I expected, and it gives me much pleasure. Great worth and virtue has no vouchers so complete as strong trials. I have a firm and undoubting confidence not only in the Justice but in the final success of the cause for which we may soon be called to contend with all our energies.— But our strength has slept too long; it must be called forth.

Your hints concerning my Sister’s situation, give me pain more than surprize— I am too familiarly conversant with such things.— Perhaps it may give you and my father some satisfaction to learn, that I remain still as independent as your own hearts can wish: and that notwithstanding my increased expences without any increase of fortune, and notwithstanding the additional voyage and Journey above-noticed, I am and will continue fully within my means.

your ever affectionate Son