TO SAMUEL PHILLIPS SAVAGE.
[W. V. Wells, Life of Samuel Adams, vol. iii., pp. 56, 57; a draft is in the Samuel Adams Papers, Lenox Library.]
PHILADELPHIA, Nov. 1, 1778.
MY DEAR SIR,—
I duly received your favor of October—by the last post, and should have immediately answered it, had I not been that day exceedingly engaged. I do not keep copies of all my letters,—they are trifles. You were mistaken in supposing that I ascribed the independence of America to New England only. I never was so assuming as to think so. My words are, that America is obliged to New England, and this is an acknowledged truth. It is the opinion of others, as well as myself, that the principles and manners of New England, from time to time, led to that great event. I pray God she may ever maintain those principles which, in my opinion, are essentially necessary to support and perpetuate her liberty. You may see my sentiments of the patriotism of other States in a letter I lately wrote to Mrs. Adams (if it is in being), in which I relate a conversation which passed between Monsieur ———— and myself. But enough of this. I love my country. My fears concerning her are that she will ruin herself by idolatry.
A part of your letter, you tell me, is confidential. I always keep the secrets of my friends when I can do it honestly, though I confess I do not like to be encumbered with them. In this instance I will be your confidant. But let me ask you, can a difference between Mr. ———— and me, either real or imaginary, be of any consequence to the world? I think not. Tories, you say, triumph. They may make sport of it; but indeed, my friend, it is too unimportant a matter for a sensible Whig to weep and break his heart about. I am desirous of making you easy; and I do assure you that, so far from brooding in my heart an unfriendly disposition towards that man, I seldom think of him, unless I happen to take up a Boston newspaper or hear his name mentioned in chit-chat conversation. You call upon me by all that is sacred to forgive him. Do you think he has injured me? If he has, should he not ask for forgiveness? No man ever found me inexorable. I do not wish him to ask me to forgive him; this would be too humiliating. If he is conscious of having done or designed me an injury, let him do so no more, and I will promise to forgive and forget him too; or, I would add, to do him all the service in my power. But this is needless; it is not in my power to serve him. He is above it.
If you wish to know the foundation of this wonderful collision, ask my friend J. W., or another, whom you properly call my closest friend. To them I have related the trifling tale, and they can repeat it to you.
The precepts and examples you refer me to I shall always reverence most highly.
I am, with unfeigned sincerity,
Your obliged and affectionate friend,