MEADE TO HAMILTON.
January 13, 1781.
What shall I say, or think, of my dear friend Hamilton? Not a single line from him since we parted. I will not, however, charge you, my dear fellow, with not having done yourduty, or, at least, of a want of inclination to do it: you may have complied fully with your promise, and your letters miscarried: mine probably have shared the same fate. This is the third since I got home. The first was writ shortly after General Greene’s arrival at Richmond, and committed to his care; the second, telling you I was married, had not so favorable a prospect of conveyance; and this must take its chance.
Arnold, you knew, was coming here. He has really been here, and, with shame be it said, marched twenty-five miles, and back, without having a single musket fired at him: but let me observe, in justice to the people at large, that there are fewer disaffected by far, in this State, than any other in the Union; and that the people turn out with the utmost cheerfulness. The misfortune, on the present invasion, was, that in the confusion the arms were sent every where, and no timely plan laid to put them into the hands of the men who were assembling. The Baron has, no doubt, given the General the particulars of the whole affair. Should he not have done it, I must refer you for them to Rivington’s paper: he can hardly be himself, and say any thing on the subject that ought not to be credited. The damage, however, done by the enemy is not considerable, and much less than might have been expected from them. My friends have suffered. I have often felt much pain, my dear Hamilton, at scenes of the kind to the northward, but never in so great a degree as on this occasion. The nearest and dearest to me were within reach of the enemy; wife, mother, brother, sister; and all have shared deeply in the distress; and, indeed, many of them were in personal danger, and my best friend of the number; myself of course somewhat exposed. You possess a heart that can feel for me; you have a female, too, that you love. * * * * * After placing her, with at least twenty other females and children, at a safe distance, I immediately returned, and joined the Baron about the time the enemy left Richmond, in order to render him all the aid I could, being intimately acquainted with the country for many miles in the vicinity of the enemy: and on their returndown the river, I left him to go in pursuit of a residence for a favorite brother who was driven from his home, and obliged to attend to his wife and a family of little children.
This gives me an opening to speak of my return to the army. I have been long wishing your advice in full on the occasion. You are acquainted with the arguments I have used in favor of my stay here. * * * * * I have not, however, as yet, thrown off the uniform, but I am inclined to believe it must be the case. If we meet not again, my dear Hamilton, as brother aids, I still flatter myself that, in the course of time, we shall meet as the sincerest of friends. If you have not already writ to me, my dear fellow, let me entreat you, when you go about it, to fill a sheet in close hand. Say all about yourself first, and next, what may be most interesting and new to me, for I have not heard a syllable from camp since I left it. I wrote to the “Old Secretary” while he was in Virginia, but could not hear from him. Tell him that I suffered not a little on his account, for I conceived, for a long time, that his cousin’s unlucky fall from his horse had happened to him: such an opinion had like to have carried me to Alexandria.
I am under the necessity of concluding, but first let me present my respects to the General and Mrs. Washington, my sincerest esteem to the lads of the family, and every officer of the army whom you know I regard.
Your sincere friend,R. R. Meade.
Your sincere friend,R. R. Meade.
Your sincere friend,R. R. Meade.