Memoirs of Aaron Burr, Volume 1.
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Matthew L. Davis >> Memoirs of Aaron Burr, Volume 1.
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I am very sorry to see so many blank days with Mr. Leshlie. If he is
not at your room within a quarter of an hour of his time, Cesar should
be forthwith sent off express for him. Let Cesar, therefore, call on
you every morning at the hour Mr. Leshlie ought to come.
I left New-York on the 28th of July. My month, therefore, will expire
on the 28th of August, so that you cannot complain until that day is
past. The court at Troy will probably detain me the whole of this
week, which is three days longer than I expected.
I long to hear what you contributed towards Madame de S.'s _jour de
fete_. No letter yet for John Yates. Why do you delay it so long? You
have had several leisure days; for this delay there should be some
apology in your letter.
Affectionately your papa,
A. BURR.
TO THEODOSIA.
Troy, 21st August, 1794.
MY DEAR THEO.,
I sent Alexis in the rain to Albany for your letter of the 18th and
journal, which he has just brought me. Your letters are my only
consolation during this afflicting absence--for it is to me a real
affliction. I have forborne to express to you my impatience, lest it
should increase yours.
The business I have undertaken here will, contrary to all expectation,
detain me till Saturday night. I hope to be on my return on Monday,
when you must begin to pray for northerly winds; or, if you have
learned, to say mass, that the French Roman Catholics rely on to
procure them all earthly and spiritual blessings. By-the-by, if you
have not been to the Roman chapel, I insist that you go next Sunday,
if you are not engaged in some other party.
I am very happy to receive a letter for John Yates. I shall send it to
him to-day; it is very handsome, and will please him much. I will
indeed return with all possible speed. Continue your journal. Adieu.
A. BURR.
TO THEODOSIA.
Philadelphia, 21st December, 1794.
I obeyed faithfully the command in your letter which bade me read the
journal first, and I read it with great eagerness, hoping to find what
I did find in the last sentence. That 16th was really a surprising
day. Three hundred and ninety-five lines, all your exercises, and all
your music. Go on, my dear girl, and you will become all that I wish.
I keep carefully your letters and journals, and when we meet you shall
read them again, which I am sure you will do with pleasure. It is
always delightful to see and correct our own errors.
Monsieur Maupertuis is highly mortified that you should suppose him so
ignorant as to have lost himself on the road. It seems he only went a
little off the highway _from curiosity to see the country_.
I hope you like Terence. Can't you lug a scrap from him now and then,
apropos, into your letters? It will please
Your affectionate papa,
A. BURR.
TO THEODOSIA IN PHILADELPHIA.
New-York, 5th January, 1795.
You see me safe arrived in New-York. I have passed but one hour at
Richmond Hill. It seems solitary and undesirable without you. They are
all well, and much, very much disappointed that you did not come with
me.
Pray write to Mrs. A., if but one line; she expects and deserves it. I
was there last evening for the first time. Your picture is really like
you; still it does not quite please me. It has a _pensive,
sentimental_ air; that of a love-sick maid! Stewart has probably meant
to anticipate what you may be at sixteen; but even in that I think he
has missed it.
Bartow has grown immensely fat. Mrs. A. has recovered and walks about.
There has been a serious attempt to institute masquerade. It has not
succeeded, nor is it yet abandoned.
We (you and I) have both neglected one duty of civility. Some weeks
ago Mrs. Jackson was polite enough to call on you, with Miss Jackson
and Miss Brown, who left you cards. You have never returned the visit.
I beg you to do it without delay. Doctor Edwards will probably make
time to go with you for a few minutes. It is at Doctor Jackson's in
Third-street, between High and Arch.
Our house in Partition-street is very neatly finished, and pleases me
much; so much that I propose to inhabit it upon our return from
Philadelphia, at least until the hot weather.
You are now in the arms of Somnus, or ought to be; for though I date
my letter the 5th, it is in truth about half past eleven at night of
the 4th. So wants half an hour of the 5th. Dream on. _Salutem_.
A. BURR.
TO THEODOSIA.
Bristol, 14th September, 1795.
Saturday night I lodged at Elizabethtown, and, after two wettings,
dined on Sunday with General Freelinghuysen. Madame (late Miss Yard)
asked much after you, as did Maria, the general's daughter. The family
is a picture of cheerfullness and happiness. At Princeton (to-day) I
met Le Mercier, who is well, except a broken scull, a face disfigured,
and some bruises about the ribs--considerable deductions, you will
say, from the "corpore sano." They are the effects of a very huge
beating bestowed on him (gratis) by two gentlemen of the town. He had
some difference with one of them, who had challenged him, which Le
Mercier refused, not being a Christian-like and clerical way of
settling differences. So the challenger, with a friend (for L. M.
could have thrashed him singly), took an opportunity to catch poor Le
Mercier alone, and discussed the subject with him in the manner above
stated.
Your friends Miss Stockton and Miss Smith said some civil things about
you, and send abundance of love, which I promised them I would forget
to deliver.
My journey thus far has been wonderfully fortunate, having only
overset once and broken down once, which, considering that I am
seventy miles on my route, is, for me, a very small list of
grievances; but I shall count it full measure if I am prevented from
entering Philadelphia to-morrow, which is a little to be apprehended.
You must pay off Meance and Hewlet for their attendance on you and
Natalie. [5] They must be paid regularly at the end of each month. I
forgot it. Get their accounts, and give them an order on Strong for
the amount. When either of you want money, Roger Strong will furnish
it. Pray settle also your account with Madame Senat, and write me that
these things are done.
Tell Mr. Martel that I request that all the time he can spare you be
devoted to Latin; that I have provided you with a teacher of French,
that no part of his attention might be taken off. I will send from
Philadelphia the certificate he requested, which escaped my memory
while at New-York.
I fear it will puzzle you all to decipher this. You may show to Mr.
Martel the clause which relates to him. Salutem, chere Theodosia.
A. BURR.
TO THEODOSIA.
Philadelphia, 17th September, 1795.
By this post I received a letter from Colonel Ward, requesting leave
to remove his family into my house, Richmond Hill. He lives, you may
recollect, in the part of the town which is said to be sickly. I could
not therefore refuse. He will call on you to go out with him. You had
better, immediately on receipt of this, go out yourself, and apprize
Anthony and Peggy.
Your letter to Kersaint is much to the purpose. It came by this day's
mail, though put in the postoffice on Tuesday, but after the closing
of the mail. With it I have also received your letter, written, I
suppose, on Tuesday evening, because it speaks of the circus; but, as
usual, without date. I beg that, when you sit down to write a letter,
you will begin by putting a date at the top; this will then presently
become a habit, and will never be omitted.
I am sorry, very sorry that you are obliged to submit to some reproof.
Indeed, I fear that your want of attention and politeness, and your
awkward postures, require it. As you appear desirous to get rid of
these bad habits, I hope you will soon afford no room for ill-nature
itself to find fault with you--I mean in these particulars; for as to
what regards your heart and your motives of action, I know them to be
good, amiable, and pure. But to return to the subject of manners, &c.
I have often seen Madame at table, and other situations, pay you the
utmost attention; offer you twenty civilities, while you appeared
scarcely sensible that she was speaking to you; or, at the most,
replied with a cold _remercie_, without even a look of satisfaction or
complacency. A moment's reflection will convince you that this conduct
will be naturally construed into arrogance; as if you thought that all
attention was _due_ to you, and as if you felt above showing the least
to anybody. I know that you abhor such sentiments, and that you are
incapable of being actuated by them. Yet you expose yourself to the
censure without intending or knowing it. I believe you will in future
avoid it. Observe how Natalie replies to the smallest civility which
is offered to her.
Your habit of stooping and bringing your shoulders forward on to your
breast not only disfigures you, but is alarming on account of the
injury to your health. The continuance in this vile habit will
certainly produce a consumption: then farewell papa; farewell
pleasure; farewell life! This is no exaggeration; no fiction to excite
your apprehensions. But, setting aside this distressing consideration,
I am astonished that you have no more pride in your appearance. You
will certainly stint your growth and disfigure your person.
Receive with calmness every reproof, whether made kindly or unkindly;
whether just or unjust. Consider within yourself whether there has
been no cause for it. If it has been groundless and unjust,
nevertheless bear it with composure, and even with complacency.
Remember that one in the situation of Madame has a thousand things to
fret the temper; and you know that one out of humour, for any cause
whatever, is apt to vent it on every person that happens to be in the
way. We must learn to bear these things; and, let me tell you, that
you will always feel much better, much happier, for having borne with
serenity the spleen of any one, than if you had returned spleen for
spleen.
You will, I am sure, my dear Theodosia, pardon two such grave pages
from one who loves you, and whose happiness depends very much on
yours. Read it over twice. Make me no promises on the subject. On my
return, I shall see in half an hour whether what I have written has
been well or ill received. If well, it will have produced an effect. I
have sent Alexis with your letter to Kersaint while I write this.
After closing of the mail I shall present myself. To-morrow morning I
take stage for Baltimore; thence to Washington, &c. You shall
certainly hear often from me. You have not yet acknowledged the
receipt of my letter from Bristol. R. Strong has received his, written
at the same time. Having many letters to answer by this mail, I cannot
add any thing sprightly to this dull letter. One dull thing you will
hear me repeat without disgust, that I am your affectionate friend,
A. BURR
TO THEODOSIA.
City of Washington, 23d September, 1795.
I write from the house of our friends, Law and Duncanson, where I make
my home. Miss Duncanson, who is mistress of the house, is a very
sprightly, sensible, ladylike woman. My remarks on this city are
reserved till we meet.
Your letter of the 17th, and one without date (I suppose the 18th),
came in this evening. They contain more wit and sprightliness than you
ever wrote in the same compass, and have amused me exceedingly. But
why do you diminish their value by carelessness? There is an omission
of one or more words in almost every sentence. At least I entreat you
to read over your letters before you seal them: some clauses are
absolutely unintelligible, though in several I can guess what word you
intended.
Why are you still in town? I am very much dissatisfied with it; for
Mr. Strong writes me that the fever is in Partition-street. I beg you
to go off with a good parcel of books to Frederick's.
I told Madame Senat that I should want the two front rooms in
Partition-street, and the very small room which adjoins the smallest
of the front rooms; and surely she will have room enough without it.
Try to arrange this so; that is, by asking her if she cannot spare
that room (the large front). Mr. Strong writes me that she is taking
possession of it. In that case my papers will be moved, which will be
very disagreeable to me.
I fix the 24th of October for my return; if any very extraordinary
thing should detain me, you shall be advised of it seasonably. Direct
to me at the city of Washington until the 10th of October. Tell R.
Strong the same. I forgot to write it to him.
When, you go on any party from Pelham, to Brown's Mrs. Cox's, &c.,
your studies may be intermitted. At least as much of them as may be
necessary. I am tired, and half sick; a great cold, for which I shall
lie by here tomorrow.
Thine,
A. BURR.
TO THEODOSIA.
City of Washington,
26th September, 1795.
Since Tuesday last I have been here much against my will; arrested by
high command; performing quarantine by authority not to be questioned
or controverted. In plain English, I am sick. On Wednesday I found one
side of my face as large as your uncle F.'s; red swollen eyes; ears
buzzing and almost stopped; throat so closed as to refuse a passage to
words out or food in; and a stupid mazy-headedness, well adapted to
the brilliancy of my figure. Being the guest of my friends Law and
Duncanson, I receive from them the most distressing attentions, but
especially from Miss Duncanson, a well-bred, sprightly, and agreeable
woman. My person had not, however, till this morning, received its
last embellishment. Alexis came in at his usual hour, and presenting
himself at my bedside, after staring at me for half a minute,
exclaimed, with an air of great astonishment--_Diable!_ and not a word
more. _Qu'a-t-il_, Alexis? To which he made not a word of reply, but
fell to drawing up the curtains; and having also very deliberately
opened the window-shutters, he returned again to his examination.
After gazing for some time (which I found it useless to interrupt), he
_diabled_ two or three times at intervals of some seconds, and then
pronounced that I had _ou la petite verole ou la rougeole_; and to
convince me, brought a glass. In truth he did not _diable_ without
reason, for my whole face, neck, hands, and arms are most bountifully
covered with something like the measles or rash. All these pleasant
appearances seem to be the effects of a great cold, taken I know not
when or how--
"_Nil illi larva aut tragicis upus esse cothurnis._"
My throat is something better, notwithstanding I went abroad
yesterday.
Sunday, 27th September.
I am so much better to-day, that, if the weather was good, I should
prosecute my journey if I could find the means of getting on; but the
rain, which is continual and very heavy, keeps well and sick within
doors.
It is now ten days since I have heard from you; a very long time,
considering the situation in which you was left at the date of your
last: in a city infected with a mortal and contagious fever. I hope,
nay, I persuade myself that you obeyed my wishes by escaping from it
to Pelham. The next mail will tell me, and, I trust, relieve me from
an anxiety which pursues me day and night.
Monday, 28th September.
Your letter of the 21st, written, I suppose, at Dr. Brown's, is just
come in, and relieves me from a weight of anxiety about your health. I
am sorry, however (very sorry), that you are not at Frederick's, and
am not absolutely either pleased or satisfied with the change.
Of attention and tenderness you will receive not only enough, but a
great deal too much; and an indulgence to every inattention, awkward
habit, and expression, which may lead you to imagine them to be so
many ornaments: as to your language, I shall expect to find it
perfectly infantine. As to studies or lessons, I do not know which of
them you allude to, as you do not say what books you have taken up. If
Mr. Leshlie is your _only_ master, as I suppose, your lesson must be
larger than ever heretofore. Your translation of the comedy into
French, if not finished, must go on; and if finished, something
similar must be taken up. Some English or French history must employ a
little of every day. I hope you will ride on horseback daily if the
weather should permit--Sam [6] always with you. Visit your neighbours
B. B. as often as you please, taking very great care not to surfeit
the family with your charming company, which may happen much sooner
than you would be inclined to believe.
You ought to be out of the Odyssey before this will reach you,
counting only two hundred lines a day since we parted. You may begin
the Iliad, if you please. Since you are at uncle B.'s, I will not now
pretend to inquire into the motives, much less to censure. I have no
doubt but you meant to do the best, and I now hope you will endeavour
to make the best _of_ it, and bad enough that will be, with respect to
all improvement, if I am not disappointed.
Pray allot an hour for your journal, and never let it be a day in
arrear. I shall consider this as occupying usefully the hour which
used to be Hewlet's or Meance's. At any rate, let me not, on my
return, have occasion to apply to you the motto,
"Strenua me exercet inertia,"
nor that other of
"Operose nihil agit."
But so improve your time that you may with pleasure review and commit
it to journal.
----"Hoc est, Vivere bis, vita priori frui."
And let it, at no very distant period, be said of you,
"Tot, tibi, sunt, ergo dotes, quot sidera coelo."
If you should never deserve this, it shall not be the fault of
A. BURR.
TO THEODOSIA IN PHILADELPHIA.
New-York, 8th February, 1796.
What will you think of the taste of New-York when I shall tell you
that Miss Broadhurst is not very generally admired here? Such is the
fact. I have contributed my feeble efforts to correct this opinion.
Mat's [7] child will not be christened until you shall be pleased to
indicate the time, place, manner, and name.
I have promised Tom that he shall take me to Philadelphia if there be
sleighing. The poor fellow is almost crazy about it. He is importuning
all the gods for snow, but as yet they don't appear to listen to him.
Your being in the ballette charms me. If you are to practise on
Wednesday evening, do not stay away for the expectation of receiving
me. If you should be at the ballette, I will go forthwith to see you.
Adieu, chere fille.
A. Burr.
TO THEODOSIA.
Philadelphia, 16th January, 1797.
When I write to you oftener than your turn, you must not let it be
known, or there will be jealousy. Your two letters of the 11th and
13th have so much wit, sprightliness, and good sense, that I cannot
delay to tell you how much they pleased me. Go on, and you will write
better than Cynthia herself. To aid your advances towards perfection,
I shall often point out such errors as shall appear to me more
particularly to claim your attention.
At present you fail most in punctuation. A very little thought will
teach where the sense is complete and a full period is proper. The
lesser pauses may be found by reading over two or three times what you
may have written. You will naturally make small pauses where the sense
shall require it. In spelling you are very well. Always write your
name with great care. Adieu.
A. Burr.
TO THEODOSIA.
Philadelphia, 23d January, 1797.
You must not "puzzle all day," my dear little girl, at one hard
lesson. After puzzling faithfully one hour, apply to your arithmetic,
and do enough to convince the doctor that you have not been idle.
Neither must you be discouraged by one unlucky day. The doctor is a
very reasonable man, and makes all due allowance for the levities as
well as for the stupidity of children. I think you will not often
challenge his indulgence on either score.
And do you regret that you are not also a woman? That you are not
numbered in that galaxy of beauty which adorns an assembly-room?
Coquetting for admiration and attracting flattery? No. I answer with
confidence. You feel that you are maturing for solid friendship. The
friends you gain you will never lose; and no one, I think, will dare
to insult your understanding by such compliments as are most
graciously received by too many of your sex.
How unpardonably you neglect C. and N. B. Where are the promised
letters? I see with delight that you improve in diction, and in the
combination and arrangement of your little ideas. With a view to
farther improvement, your letters to me are a most useful exercise. I
feel persuaded that all my hopes and wishes concerning you will be
accomplished.
Never use a word which does not fully express your thoughts, or which,
for any other reason, does not please you. Hunt your dictionary till
you find one. Arrange a whole sentence in your mind before you write a
word of it; and, whatever may be your "hurry" (never be in a _hurry_),
read over your letter slowly and carefully before you seal it.
Interline and erase lightly with your pen what may appear to you to
require amendment or correction. I dispense with your copying unless
the letter should be much defaced, in which case keep it till the next
mail. Copy and improve it.
Your play on "Light" is pretty and witty, and the turn on the _dear
little_ letter does not dishonour the metempsychosis of Madame Dacier.
I shall probably see you very soon; we will then rearrange your hours,
and endeavour to remove the present and forestall all future troubles.
I should be mortified--I should be almost offended--if I should find
that you passed over any word in my letters without becoming perfectly
acquainted with its meaning, use, and _etymology_.
Since I commenced this letter, yours of the 21st has come in. It
speaks of another which has not come, and of Martel's paper, neither
of which have come. This arises from "hurry." The note to Mr.
Livingston is middling. Affectionately--no, you hate that word;
perhaps every thing is implied in plain.
A. BURR.
TO THEODOSIA.
Albany, 4th January, 1799.
On Tuesday I arrived here, and yesterday received your two letters of
the 29th and 30th of December. Your despondency distresses me
extremely. It is indeed unfortunate, my dear Theodosia, that we are
constrained to be separated. I had never so much need of your society
and friendship, nor you, perhaps, of mine. It is a misfortune which I
sincerely regret every hour of the day. It is one, however, which you
must aid me to support, by testifying that you can support your share
of it with firmness and activity. An effort made with decision will
convince you that you are able to accomplish all I wish and all you
desire. Determination and perseverance in every laudable undertaking
is the great point of difference between the silly and the wise. It is
essentially a part of your character, and requires but an effort to
bring it into action. The happiness of my life depends on your
exertions; for what else, for whom else do I live? Not that the
acquisition of the languages alone can decide your happiness or mine;
but if you should abandon the attempt, or despair of success, or relax
your endeavours, it would indicate a feebleness of character which
would dishearten me exceedingly. It is for my sake that you now
labour. I shall acknowledge your advancement with gratitude and with
the most lively pleasure. Let me entreat you not to be discouraged. I
know you to be capable of much greater efforts than this will require.
If your young teacher, after a week's trial, should not suit you,
dismiss him on any pretence without wounding his pride, and take the
old Scotchman. Resolve to succeed, and you cannot fail.
I parted with you amid so much hurry and confusion, and so many
vexations, that, when I had time to reflect, I seemed to have said
none of the things which I had wished and intended. I reproached
myself perpetually that I had not urged you to attend me. Your letters
almost confirmed me in the design of returning to fetch you; and yet
more sober reason seems to tell me that these things were rather the
effusions of sentiment than of a deliberate estimate of your real
interests. In six weeks, however, we shall meet.
I intended to have recommended to you the ancient and modern history
of Millot. Natalie has some of the volumes--some are in the library at
Mrs. D.'s, of which I hope you keep the key. Millot is concise,
perspicuous, and well selected. Rollin is full of tedious details and
superstitious nonsense.
There is nothing more certain than that you may form what countenance
you please. An open, serene, intelligent countenance, a little
brightened by cheerfullness, not wrought into smiles or simpers, will
presently become familiar and grow into habit. A year will with
certainty accomplish it. Your physiognomy has naturally much of
benevolence, and it will cost you some labour (which you may well
spare) to eradicate it. Avoid, for ever avoid, a smile or sneer of
contempt; never even mimic them. A frown of sullenness or discontent
is but one degree less hateful. You seem to require these things of
me, or I should have thought them unnecessary. I see, with pleasure I
see, that you have engaged in this matter. We shall both be gratified
by the result, which cannot fail to accord with our wishes.
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