John Quincy Adams to Louisa Catherine Johnson, March 20, 1797

The Hague March 20. 1797.

I have successively received your Letters of the 28 th: and 24 th: of last month, which
I mention thus in inverted order because they so came to me, and the latest of date was
the first here.— 1 It must indeed be an
implacable breast which such a Letter as this would not disarm of all resentment.— I
have hailed and welcomed it as the pledge of uninterrupted future harmony between
us.

You have rightly concluded that in speaking of your father to you,
I could never mean any thing but what was respectful. His own character as well as his
relation to you secures from me all the regard and deference to which he is so fully
entitled. I regretted even the necessity of having any observations to make respecting
him in a discussion which I should have wished might have been limited only to yourself
and me.— But I could not leave his Letters un-answered; nor could I use with you any
disguise, upon a subject in which you were concerned.— No my lovely friend; far from permitting myself the most distant reflection which
could wound your veneration and affection for your Parents, I would if it were possible
give a brighter hue and a warmer glow to Sentiments which do so much honour to your
Heart. There is an inseparable connection between the most precious Virtues of domestic
life, and a nice and delicate sensibility to the ties and duties of one relation, is the
most unequivocal proof of a character devoted to those of every other, and a temper
attached to them. I love you therefore the more for the keenness of your feelings on
every occasion in which your father is concerned. Never shall his name pass from my lips
or flow from my pen, but with honour, and I hope that in future all the measures
particularly regarding you and me, will so exclusively pass between ourselves, as to
render every reference to him, which could possibly displease you unnecessary.

I cannot express the pleasure which every new proof of the goodness
of your heart and accuracy of your Sentiments gives me. When you tell me that you are
not satisfied to possess merely my Love, but will also
deserve my esteem, this is a kind of Spirit that I admire; a resolution that I most
cordially approve, and which I am sure you will carry into effect.— The Spirit which
gives us a command of ourselves which enables us to combat our own failings and subdue
our own propensities, is the most exalted heroism; a heroism adapted alike to the
characters of both sexes, and the laurels of which are as graceful upon the female brow
as the myrtle of Love.

It is this reverence for yourself, this regard to the dignity of
your own character, that is one of your fairest attractions in my eyes. Ever cherish it
my best friend; never suffer it to depart from your mind, and make it always your care
to distinguish and separate it from pride, which in some respects resembles it, but is
in substance directly opposite to it.— Always remember this plain distinction between
them. The rigours of self-reverence all refer to ourselves; those of pride bear only
upon others. The former are perfectly consistent with humility, a virtue that pride
never knows. Pride vainly clamours for respect and esteem, self-reverence irresistibly
draws without ever claiming them.

There are some expressions in both your last Letters, concerning
yourself so harsh and undeserved that I cannot without pain observe them used even by
yourself.— In the first you speak of “tiring me with your stupidity ,” of “sending me nonsense ,” in the latter
of your “ridiculous conduct” and your “ folly. ” There is not
one of these terms that can with any sort of propriety be
applied to any thing that I ever observed of you. I do not think I should either love or
esteem a person to whom such terms would apply. I would have you never for a moment
imagine that they could by any possibility be with justice applied to you.— Always think
too well of your own mind to suppose it capable of stupidity, and of your own discretion
to imagine it can turn to folly.

I am much obliged to you for your information concerning the
American Elections. I suppose that by this time there is in England some authentic
intelligence, concerning them. Hitherto the accounts are perhaps all inaccurate.— You
mention that there were Letters for me, waiting for the opportunity of a vessel directly
from London. I should be glad to have all that are not large packets forwarded by the
mail, to Bremen as you send your Letters. 2 This mode of conveyance appears to be safe, and I so seldom have the pleasure of
receiving Letters from my friends in America, that I always wish for them with some
impatience

Your last Letters observes that your Papa was expecting the arrival
of M r: Bourne.— I suppose that he must have reached London
within a day or two after, as he sailed from Amsterdam two or three days before then. My
brother had at one time some idea of going with him, but has concluded not to leave me,
while I am chained here.

Will you be so good as to request our friend M r: Hall to send me by the first convenient
opportunity,—Burke’s Letters on a Regicide Peace:— His Letter to the Duke of Portland
lately published,—and M r: Erskine’s Pamphlet, the title of
which I do not know; but he will.— 3 I
give you this trouble, to save him that of receiving another Letter from me, merely
stating my wants.

I am very sorry to hear that your Sisters have been so unwell.— The
Season here has been generally unhealthy though uncommonly fine. Colds especially have
been very prevalent. Perhaps it has been the same in England.

This I hope will find you, with all the family in perfect health. I
beg to be remembered kindly to them all, and remain, ever yours.

A.