CHAPTER XIV._Memoirs of Aaron Burr, Complete

TO THEODOSIA.

Philadelphia, June 11, 1803.

_Continuation of the Story of the Loves of Reubon and Celeste_.

Your recollection must be recalled to the fatal and decisive interview

of Wednesday. The result only was stated in a former letter. It would

have required too much time to compress into the compass of one or two

sheets a conversation of two hours. The details are therefore omitted;

but a circumstance which will increase your surprise at the incident

related yesterday morning is, that, on Wednesday night, Reubon

received by the hands of a servant of Celeste, sent for the sole

purpose seven miles, a letter from her, couched in civil terms, but

expressing "an unalterable determination never to listen again to his

suit, and requesting that the subject might never be renewed." Reubon

returned home late last evening, and was told that a boy had been

three times in the course of the afternoon and evening to deliver him

a message, but refused to say from whom he came. The last time the

servant of Reubon traced the boy to the house of Celeste in town. It

was not known that Celeste had been that day in town, and no

conjecture could be formed as to the owner of the boy or the object of

his message. The note received by Reubon this morning explains the

mystery. The letter which I wrote you by the mail left Reubon puzzling

his brain to discover the meaning of that note, and just going out to

obey the challenge which it conveyed. He went, as you were apprized,

and has just now returned and communicated what you shall now hear.

Some years ago, a worthy country judge, having heard a cause very

ingeniously debated by lawyers on each side, when he came to charge

the jury, did it in the words following: "Gentlemen of the jury, you

must get along with this cause as well as you can; for my part, I am

swamp'd." Now Reubon is exactly in the case of this judge, and I am at

a loss what to advise him. You could unravel this thing in five

minutes. Would to God you were here; but to the story.

He found Celeste with a visitor; some female neighbour, who sat a full

half hour. Celeste betrayed considerable agitation when Reubon came

in, and the most palpable impatience at the long stay of the lady

visitor. At length she went, and the parties were alone. As she had

desired the interview, it was her place to speak first. After a pause

and several efforts, she, with some trepidation, said that she feared

the letter which she had writen had not been expressed in terms

sufficiently polite and respectful; she had wished an opportunity to

apologize; and here she stuck. Reubon ought in mercy and in politeness

to have taken up the conversation; but he, expecting no such thing,

was taken by surprise, and remained dumb, with a kind of half grin.

The duette, at this moment, would have made a charming subject for the

pencil of Vanderlyn. Celeste was profoundly occupied in tearing up

some roses which she held in her hand, and Reubon was equally

industrious in twirling his hat, and pinching some new corners and

angles in the brim. At length he recovered himself so far as to gain

utterance. He denied, plumply, that there was want of politeness or

respect in the letter; and, after many awkward detours and

half-finished sentences, he said he would return the letter, and would

consider it as cancelling the determination which it contained, and

proposed to call on her in the country to-morrow morning to renew his

suit. This was _faintly_ opposed. He changed the course of

conversation, without insisting on a formal permission or refusal, and

then went into the subject of celibacy and matrimony, and passed an

hour tête-à-tête. It may be worth noting that, towards the close of

the conversation, some one knocked, and that she went out and ordered

the servant to deny her, from which it may be inferred that she was

not disagreeably engaged, and that she did not wish to be interrupted.

Now, ma Minerve, is not this a very ridiculous posture for so grave an

affair? And is not Reubon in a way to be coquetted, with his eyes

open? I rather think he erred in giving to the apology of Celeste any

other meaning than she literally expressed. Thus he might have

compelled her to be more explicit. On the other hand, if she did in

fact repent, and so suddenly, it would seem too harsh and fastidious

to shut the door against all treaty and negotiation. Upon the whole,

however, I conclude that if she wished, for any kind reason, to

retreat, she should have gone further, and held out something like

encouragement; in short, have met him half way. It may, I know, be

replied, that her habits of life and singular education forbid every

thing like advance; and that a lady may always presume that her lover,

if sincere, will seize the slightest ground for hope; and that, in the

logic of love, an equivocal refusal is assent. Certainly, this last

interview has been illy managed on the part of Reubon, but I have not

yet resolved what to advise. This is left open till morning, when

perhaps a word may be added.

Saturday morning.

From the state of things it is obvious that there can, at this hour,

be no new fact to communicate; but I have no longer any doubts as to

the meaning of the late scene, nor as to the line of conduct to be

pursued by Reubon. The note of Celeste is one of those trifling

incidents which are too small for calculation, which may have arisen

from the trifling motive assigned. Perhaps from a little spirit of

coquetry, perhaps a mere piece of sport. He shall, therefore, take no

further notice of it; not even to go out this morning to see her, as

he had solicited and engaged; and, when he shall next meet her, make

some slight apology. Thus the thing is settled.

A. BURR.

TO THEODOSIA.

Philadelphia, June 12, 1803.

I am weary, and so must you be, of this story of Reubon and Celeste.

It is, however, closed, and you will, after this letter, hear no more

of it.

Reubon agreed to comport himself in the manner advised in my last.

Immediately after this determination, Celeste sent a servant to inform

him that she was in town! He called to see her; returned the offensive

letter, and told her that, as he understood that it was the manner and

not the substance of the letter which had induced her to recall it, it

would be quite unnecessary for her to take the trouble of writing

another. They talked of indifferent matters. Reubon, quite at ease,

played the man of the world, and, in my opinion, the man of sense.

Before they parted, her face was flushed like a full-blown rose. She

begged his permission to destroy the letter, which was certainly a

very useless request, considering that the letter was wholly in her

power. During the interview, Celeste, having no roses to occupy her

hands, twisted off two corners of a pocket-handkerchief.

This reference (the law business), of which I informed you something,

has become extremely troublesome and disagreeable. I am apprehensive

that it will detain me here nearly the whole of this week.

Binny looks remarkably well, and talks much about you. Dennis and

wife, from Savannah, are here. _Madame est toujours belle_. I can't

express to you my impatience to be with you, your husband, and little

one. Truly I think with horror of passing five days more here. Pray

form no plans of distant rides until my return.

A. BURR.

FROM THEODOSIA.

New-York, June 14, 1803.

As to Celeste, _voila mon_ opinion. She meant, from the beginning, to

say that awful word--_yes_; but not choosing to say it immediately,

she told you that _you_ had furnished her with arguments against

matrimony, which in French means, Please, sir, to persuade me out of

them again. But you took it as a plump refusal, and walked off. She

called you back. What more could she do? I would have seen you to

Japan before I should have done so much. I still, however, like your

plan. My opinion is not, perhaps, well founded, and it is best to be

on the safe side. If she is determined to be kind, she will find out a

way of expressing it, or she is not worth having. I am quite pleased

with her, and am waiting the arrival of the mail with the utmost

impatience.

"Treasure" is well, notwithstanding all predictions on my folly in his

dress. You must be home for my birthday, (the 20th inst.), or I'll

never forgive you; or, rather, I shall not spend it pleasantly.

THEODOSIA

TO THEODOSIA.

Philadelphia, June 16, 1803.

No letter by this mail; being the fourth omission and violation of

promise since the 1st inst.

The birthday must be kept. It shall be "honoured by my presence." You

will therefore make your preparations, and, among other articles for

your feast or party, I recommend two fiddlers, not barbecued or

roasted, but _en plein vie_.

If this should be received on Friday morning, in season to be answered

by that day's mail, I beg to have a line from you, if only a _bon

jour_; after which, no more letters can be received. You shall not

have any distant parties or jaunts until I can partake. I am even

jealous of the Fort Washington tour. Indeed, you can't go there

without me, for no one can so well show you the ground.

If Mr. Kane and his wife (late Miss Clarke) should be in town, pray

call on them immediately, and make them and the sister of the party.

Recollect they have many claims to your civilities. His sister, Mrs.

Thomas Morris, was very kind to you at Genesee. Mr. Kane himself

overwhelmed us with good offices on a certain occasion at Albany, and

the frequent hospitalities of John Innes Clarke can never be

forgotten. Be prompt, therefore, and courteous.

A. BURR.

FROM THEODOSIA.

Ballston, July 20, 1803.

Behold us, _cher pere_, at this fountain of health; and now my only

wish is to leave it as soon as possible. On arriving here we found

that your letter to H. Walton had not been received; but we have been

very fortunate in getting a house entirely to ourselves, and one quite

as pleasantly situated as that you mentioned. Mr. Walton has been

extremely polite to us. We dined there on Monday, and in the evening

went to a ball, which surpassed my expectations in brilliancy. I

danced twice, but I am unable to tell you whether I looked well or

danced well; for you are the only person in the world who says any

thing to me about my appearance. Mari generally looks pleased, but

rarely makes remarks. On my return, therefore, I wished for you to

learn some account of myself; for vanity and diffidence had a combat

in which each so well maintained its ground that the affair is still

left undecided.

General Smith and family are here. Never was ennui more strongly

depicted than in the countenance of madame and sister. They appear

absolutely bereft of every thing like exertion. Mr. -----, on the

contrary, while he owns that this is not one of the most pleasant

places he has ever seen, is still lively and agreeable. Such are the

baneful effects of our education. Put out of our usual sphere of

acquaintance, or the old routine of amusement and occupation, we

rarely have knowledge of the world enough to discover any pleasant

qualification that may exist in a stranger, and to put it to any use

if it obtrude itself on our notice; and still less are we taught to

create amusements for ourselves.

The boy is pretty well, but I confess I have many doubts as to the

healthiness of this place for children. Every morning since our

arrival there has been a thick mist, which the sun does not disperse

till nine or ten o'clock. I kiss you with all my heart.

THEODOSIA.

FROM CHARLES BIDDLE.

Philadelphia, February 3, 1803.

DEAR SIR,

The business of New-Orleans is much talked of here. In my opinion, and

it is the opinion of many others, we should immediately take

possession, and then treat about it. We have no business to make

excuses for the conduct of the Spanish government, by saying that they

gave no orders to treat us in this manner. For my own part I do not

fear a war with France and Spain. We could do more injury to them than

they could do us. If we were at war with them, and Great Britain did

not join us, we should have our ports filled with their seamen, and

the coasts of France and Spain would soon swarm with our cruisers.

I remember, just before the commencement of the revolutionary war, my

mother was disputing with an English officer. He said the Americans,

of right, should not go to war; they could do nothing; they could get

no person to head them. She replied, that the Americans would have no

difficulty in finding some person to command their army; that she had

seven sons, and, if necessary, would lead them herself to oppose their

army. _Two_ of her sons fell during the war in the service of their

country. I have seven sons, whom I would much sooner lead to the field

than suffer our country to be insulted. Your friend,

CHARLES BIDDLE.

FROM JOHN TAYLOR, OF CAROLINA.

Virginia, near Port Royal, March 25, 1803,

DEAR SIR,

By your note from the Bowling Green I find you are under two mistakes.

One, that I am a candidate for Congress; the other, that I am making a

book. As to the first, I have withstood all solicitation; and,

although a few gentlemen have been pleased, without my knowledge, to

make a stir, as it is called, nothing will come of it, and the old

colonel will once more be felicitated.

As to the second, writing is one of my amusements, but in a wild,

careless, and desultory way. Judge, then, how unlikely such scraps are

to come out a book. Not that I would hesitate to publish any thing

which might do these people good, however it might effect my own name,

about which the fifty years which have passed over my head have

rendered me quite indifferent. My time goes along tolerably enough,

one way or another. Fancy furnishes me with passions and amusements,

and about one hundred dollars a year more than meets every want I have

which money can gratify.

This election affair has, however, exposed me to five or six essays in

the newspapers, composed of lies, malice, and nonsense. One writer (an

old tory) charges yourself and Colonel Smith with having met in caucus

here, to plot the expulsion of Anthony New from Congress. I would have

given five guineas had you called again, for it is probable you would

have met Smith at my gate, and another pretty piece would have

appeared most prodigiously entertaining. Well, if you will call in

June, I will give you a hearty welcome to the best I have. May you be

happy.

Your friend,

JOHN TAYLOR.

FROM PIERCE BUTLER.

Near Darien, Georgia, March 30, 1803.

DEAR SIR,

The letter you did me the honour of writing, with the accompaniments

you so kindly forwarded, have my warm and grateful acknowledgments.

The selection of _ten miles square_ for the seat of government

appeared to me at the time, and has continued, an excrescence on the

Constitution, like a wart on a fair skin. Neither the foreign

ministers nor the resident citizens in the federal city have any thing

to alarm them under state laws. There is no finger of blood in the

laws of Maryland or Virginia. I am of Mr. Bacon's opinion--return the

sovereignty to the states. I hope we shall preserve peace with Spain.

I observe, with much gratification, that the debates in Congress are

much more decorous than they were last session.

The object or end of Mr. Monroe's mission I am ignorant of, as I do

not correspond with any public character but yourself. I suppose an

explanation with France respecting New-Orleans. I leave my farm in a

few days for Philadelphia, where it would afford me pleasure to see

you.

Your friend,

P. BUTLER.

TO THEODOSIA.

New-York, July 30, 1803.

It was kind to announce to me, by the earliest opportunity, your safe

arrival at Lebanon. Tell me more precisely the movements and

intentions of the family, as they will in some measure control mine. I

am negotiating for the possession of Richmond Hill, by exchanging with

Colonel F. for my house in town. It will be interesting indeed to have

you and your boy at the house where you have been once so happy. We

will trace back our childish sports and our more grave amusements. In

the sale of this estate I reserve the house and a due portion of the

ground about it; yet a good price will tempt me to part with it.

Some obscure hints in one of your letters have saddened my heart. From

_son pere_ I have merited neither suspicion nor reserve. Is it, then,

criminal that a person of mature age should converse on a subject most

highly interesting with the friend most likely informed? Yet did I not

even give advice; invariably and inflexibly I declared that I would

never interfere in the matter unless son pere concurred. Have you

forgotten the mad project of going to England? the anxiety and misery

it cost us for some days? I should have thanked the man who had thus

treated my child. Indeed, my dear Theodosia, such things sink into my

soul. They seem to invade the very sanctuary of happiness. Had I any

thing so much at heart as to render him happy? That I love him, you

best know. God bless my dear Theodosia.

A. BURR.

TO THEODOSIA.

Providence, R. I., August 1, 1803.

I left New-York two days after you, that is, on Saturday, and had a

pretty little passage of forty-eight hours. We were, on board, a

British custom-house officer, a sensible, pleasant man, who played

chess with me; two ladies, rather pretty, who did not molest us,

_point exigentes_, bien amiable; five little children, who neither

cried nor quarrelled the whole way! yet cheerful and playful.

Six days have I passed here very pleasantly. To-morrow I go, whither

is not determined. You may, however, address me at New-York, which

will most probably be my destination.

All those you saw when you were last here inquire about you with great

civility and interest, and say pretty things of you. Don't be vain,

madam, for I take this to be a kind of flattery to me, or to be so

intended. Miss C. talks much of you, and L. N., and Miss A. Can you

imagine what are Miss C.'s occupations and arrangements? Never; so

I'll tell you. Why, she instructs two nieces and a nephew (things of

twelve or thirteen) in astronomy, natural philosophy, and principles

of botany! Her boudoir has globes, several mathematical instruments,

&c. All this I discovered by accident; for she denies it all most

strenuously, and with some pretty, unaffected embarrassment. Be

assured this is an amiable, sensible girl. I don't believe you know

her value: so I pray you to study her. She left town yesterday with

her mother for Lebanon. Mr. C. went on Friday to New-York. What care

you for all that?

Are you a good girl? Do you drink the waters, and bathe, and ride, and

walk? I hear Mrs. W. is handsomer than during her widowhood, of which

I am very glad. Mr. Russel left this on Thursday, intending to pass

through Albany and Ballston on his way to Niagara. If he should come

into your vicinage, desire Mr. Alston to recollect him. His wife is

with him. I never saw her.

Tell me who you see, and what you do, and what are your plans. You had

best return by Boston and Providence if you should have time. Can you

make little _chose_ drink the water? I dare say not. If I were there I

would force some down his little throat. God bless you all.

A. BURR.

TO THEODOSIA.

New-York, August 6, 1803.

Your letter of the 20th of July was received from the postoffice on my

arrival last evening. There must be some anachronism in the date, for

you left New-York on the 21st. I learn, however, that you arrived,

were well, and had danced. Lord, how I should have liked to see you

dance. It is so long; how long is it? It is certain that you dance

better than anybody and looked better. Not a word of the Spring

waters, their effects, &c.

I made the journey from Providence by land in four days. Near town,

yesterday, P.M., I met Mr. and Mrs. Harper, of Baltimore. They are to

breakfast with me this morning; so I must make haste, for it is now

eight o'clock. How bad I write to-day. With Mr. and Mrs. Harper was a

pretty-looking, black-eyed lass, whose name I did not hear. I hope she

is coming out to breakfast, for I like her. There was also that

Liverpool merchant, who used to hang on Butler so in Charleston. I

hope he won't come.

I wrote you from Providence, on Monday last, all I had to say of it

and its inhabitants. I found the whole country, from Providence to

this place, greatly alarmed about the yellow fever, said to be in

New-York, and dreadful stories in circulation, as usual. There have

been some suspicious cases, and some decided instances of yellow

fever. Our practising physicians, however, our mayor and

police-officers deny its existence. There is no alarm in town. The

coffee-house is attended as usual. This length of intolerable heat

has, I fear, prepared an atmosphere for the kind reception, if not for

the generation of the fever. Now I hear the carriage. _Bon jour_. Be a

good girl. Love to H. 'Twas nothing but a cart.

L. and her little bang are here (_chez nous_); how happy are you

mothers. She will descant on its beauties by the hour; will point them

out to you distinctly, lest they might escape notice. The hair, the

nose, the mouth, and, in short, every feature, limb, and muscle, is

admirable and is admired. To all which I agreed.

Jerome Bonaparte is not here; nor is it certain that he is on the

continent. The French consul, whom I met in the road, told me, with

_une maniere mysterieuse_, that he had something to communicate on

that subject. Maybe he is come, maybe he isn't. I conjecture that he

is come or coming.

Here they come, in earnest. I see only one lady in the carriage; so

miss has not come; well, she may stay.

A. BURR.

TO THEODOSIA.

New-York, August 8, 1803.

Your amiable letter of the 1st inst. has not yet come to hand, and

therefore cannot yet be acknowledged; perhaps it has not yet been

written.

Indeed, we are about to be scourged with the plague called yellow

fever. John Bard dead; but, to keep the account good, Billy B. has

twins (boys). Catharine Church Cruger (Mrs. Peter C.) has a son. But

of the deaths. We die reasonably fast. Six or eight new cases reported

yesterday. Of those who take the fever three fourths die. The

coffee-house was, nevertheless, pretty well attended. No appearances

of alarm until to-day. Several families have removed from the

neighbourhood of the Tontine Coffee-house, and five times the number

will remove to-morrow. Laight claimed Mr. Alston's promise of

Montalto, and I have admitted his pretensions. He will take possession

to-morrow or next day. Our pretty (beautiful) Mrs. Talbot, late Miss

Truxton, more lately Mrs. Cox, is in my neighbourhood.

I write in town, and in the most outrageous hurry, having nothing to

do, but having, according to custom, omitted writing till the moment

of closing the mail. Mr. and Mrs. Harper did come, and with them that

black-eyed young lady, which proved to be Miss Chase, of Baltimore.

Mr. ----- came also.

Do you know Miss Joanna Livingston? Pray recollect all her good and

amiable qualities. Reflect profoundly. Adieu, ma chere amie.

A. BURR.

FROM THEODOSIA.

Washington, October 16, 1803.

We arrived here yesterday somewhat fatigued. I was, however, very

happy to find myself at Washington, for we had, in the morning, been

near taking quite a different route. Some part of our harness having

broken on the top of a pretty long descent, fortunately the leaders

were frightened by the wheel horses crowding on them; and running

aside, one got his leg over the pole and was stopped, or you would not

have had the pleasure of receiving this interesting scribleriad, and

the _poor world_ would have been deprived of the heir-apparent to all

its admiration and glory.

Our friend L. I have not seen. She was not to be seen. She has gone to

Lancaster, and intends returning by the way of Harper's Ferry. Her

journey is taken with a view to recruit herself after a severe attack

of the bilious fever; with which, also, her little daughter has been

at the point of death--literally, I am told. Lest I might lose the

pleasure of seeing her by some mistake, I would not trust to the

information of Tunnecliffe as to her absence, but made him send

directly to her house. There; is not that little incident related in

the true heroic style? Mrs. Madison and myself have made an

interchange of visits to-day. She is still pretty; but oh, that

unfortunate propensity to snuff-taking. We drank tea with Mr. and Mrs.

Gallatin by invitation. Nobody asked us to eat. The markets are bad, I

hear. We live very well, however, and, if you have not engaged

lodgings, I advise to apply here also.

To-morrow takes us to Dumfries, and the next day beyond

Fredericksburgh. _Le pere_ is at Bowling Green. I bear travelling

remarkably well. Headaches have disappeared, and my appetite

increases; but poor little _gampy_ does not like the confinement of

the carriage.

On inquiry, we find that the one-eyed Nicholas who was in Congress is

named John, and has only three brothers, Wilson, Robert, and Normond;

so your man is an impostor, consequently you have been imposed on and

cheated out of fifty dollars. Wade Hampton arrived here this evening.

THEODOSIA.

FROM THEODOSIA.

Petersburgh, October 21, 1803.

We reached this last night without any accident or even incident, but

with great fatigue. Mr. Alston appears so distressed and worn out with

the child's fretting, that it returns on me with redoubled force.

_Le pere et frere_ are here. _Toujours honnête et bon_. They

breakfasted with us, for we are obliged to take separate lodgings, and

my husband has now gone to the races with them; a party of pleasure I

was very willing to resign for you and repose. The longer I live, the

more frequently the truth of your advice evinces itself, and never was

there any thing more true than that occupation is necessary to give

one command over themselves. I confess I feel myself growing quite

cross on the journey, and it is really to be feared that, unless we

soon finish it, the serene tranquillity of my placid temper may be

injured. Novel reading has, I find, not only the ill effect of

rendering people romantic, which, thanks to my father on earth, I am

long past, but they really furnish no occupation to the mind. A series

of events follow so rapidly, and are interwoven with remarks so

commonplace and so spun out, that there is nothing left to reflect

upon. A collection of images, which amuse only from their variety and

rapid succession, like the pictures of a magic lantern; not like a

piece of Vanderlyn, where the painter makes fine touches, and leaves

to your vanity at least the merit of discovering them. Oh! would I had

my friend Sterne. Half he says has no meaning, and, therefore, every

time I read him I find a different one.

The boy has perfectly recovered. He remembers you astonishingly. He is

constantly repeating that you are gone, and calling after you. When I

told him to call Mr. Alston grandfather--"Grandfather gone," says he.

I kiss you from my heart.

THEODOSIA.

FROM THEODOSIA.

Lumberton, S. C., October 29, 1803.

Thank Heaven, my dear father, I am at Lumberton, and within a few days

of rest. I am sick, fatigued, out of patience, and on the very brink

of being out of temper. Judge, therefore, if I am not in great need of

repose. What conduces to render the journey unpleasant is, that it

frets the boy, who has acquired two jaw teeth since he left you, and

still talks of _gampy_. We travel in company with the two Alstons.

Pray teach me how to write two A's without producing something like an

_Ass_.

We expect to reach Georgetown on the 1st of November. There we shall

remain three or four days, and then proceed to Charleston. Adieu.

_Mille baises_.

THEODOSIA.

FROM THEODOSIA.

Clifton, November 8, 1803.

You are surprised at my date, but my last must have prepared you for

it in some degree. I received such warm and repeated solicitations to

come here, that I accepted. We came on the 3d, and shall remain here

till the day after to-morrow, when-oh!-oh! I go to Hagley, where we

shall remain till Natalie's arrival, which will carry me to

Charleston. It might appear ill-natured and ungrateful for the

kindness John and Sally show me to regret residing at Hagley. But you,

who always put the best construction on my words and deeds, will

allow, that a place in which we have suffered much and run a risk of

suffering more must be unpleasant.

We have visited the Oaks house since our arrival. The lazy workmen

have been wasting their time, and have not yet finished what two

Northern workmen would have done in a month. They are in the act of

plastering, and that will not be dry enough to admit us in some time.

Thus I shall remain with John till Mr. Alston returns from Columbia.

Do you not think we may safely enter the house then? The plastering

will be finished in less than a week hence; and the legislature, you

know, adjourns at Christmas. I am particular on this subject, because

I have known persons to suffer much from inhabiting a house too newly

finished, and I wish to have your opinion.

I am extremely anxious to hear from you. When we parted you were

engaged in talking over a bargain with Mr. Astor. Pray tell me the

event of your deliberations. I had almost forgotten to tell you that

we have every prospect of a capital crop.

THEODOSIA.

TO THEODOSIA.

New-York, November 7, 1803.

Your letter from Chester was received in due time; that from

Washington came only yesterday, having lain there fourteen days before

it was put into the office. By this time you must have received all

those which I have written to you since your departure--not a single

one. This is the first time that I have put pen to paper at you; but I

have been too busy, selling. All is sold, and well sold; not all,

however. The house, outhouses, and some three or four acres remain.

Enough to keep up the appearance, and all the pleasant recollections

of your infantine days, and some of your matronly days also, are

reserved with interest. This weighty business, however, is completed,

and a huge weight it has taken from the head and shoulders, and every

other part, animal and intellectual, of A. B.

Mr. M'Kinnon wrote me, last June, a letter, which I received a few

days ago, and with it came two shawls or cloaks (a kind of worked

muslin, all the rage in Paris and London at that date), some visiting

cards, and ornamented message paper. Half his letter is to you and of

you. He begs you to accept one of the shawls, and to give Frances the

other. I executed his instructions by giving F. one. Surely it is not

worth while to send the other to the Oaks for the admiration of your

Africans. It is, in my opinion, beautiful; though, at first sight, I

thought so little of it that I was going to give it to Peggy or Nancy.

Of the cards I enclose a sample.

If little _gamp_ could read, I should write to him volumes. I find my

thoughts straying to him every hour in the day, and think more of him

twenty fold than of you two together. Mrs. Laight and child are well.

They move to town in six or eight days. Anna is well. Cath. C. la la.

A. BURR.

TO THEODOSIA.

New-York, November 22, 1803.

My last went by water, in care of young Gibbs, the baker's son, with

the curricle box, and some other articles which I have forgotten. The

letter contained some samples of M'Kinnon's present. The shawl is

still retained as being too precious to be sent by sea or land. Is

this right?

Mr. Astor left with me some days ago for Mr. Alston a very beautiful

map of Lower Canada, price _ten_ dollars, and two views of Montreal

and its vicinity, _two guineas_. I am particularly charged by Mr.

Astor to inform Mr. Alston that his landlord at Montreal paid to him

(Mr. Astor), for the account of Joseph Alston, Esq., the sum of _one

half guinea_; the said landlord having discovered, after the departure

of the said Joseph Alston _et ux_., that they had not taken with them

two bottles of Madeira wine which the said landlord had charged in the

bill of the said Joseph Alston, and for which he had received payment.

Thus I have discharged myself of a commission which has been enjoined

upon me at least ten times.

Roger Morris's place, the large handsome house on the height beyond

Mrs. Watkins, is for sale. I can get it for Richmond Hill with _four_

acres. Shall I exchange? R. M.'s has one hundred and thirty acres. If

I leave Richmond Hill, however, had I not better buy in town, that you

may have a resting-place there ? Dear little _gampy_; tell me a great

deal about him, or I shall not value your letters. Indeed, I will

return them unopened. Is not that good Irish?

Mr. Law has arrived. Miss Wheeler [1] is also at Washington, and A. B.

at New-York-_tant mieux_. Would you think it? I have been coquetted by

a rich widow, and really I had some thoughts of yielding.

Jerome Bonaparte is here, and he will keep me three days to dine him.

We have exchanged visits, but have not yet met. I think I have mixed

up here every thing I have to say to T. B. A. or J. A. No one word of

politics; but, on further reflection, Mari will be at Columbia when

this arrives.

A. BURR.

TO THEODOSIA.

Washington, December 4, 1803.

I arrived this afternoon, and found here your three letters from

Petersburgh, Lumberton, and Georgetown. The last is dated the 2d of

November. How very long ago. These letters are very satisfactory,

except on the article of your health; of that you must speak a little

more plainly. How long are you to stay in Charleston? Without knowing

this, I am at a loss where to address you. I shall conclude that you

will remain there till the return of Mr. Alston from the legislature.

The manner of your letters pleases me "prodigiously." There is ease,

good sense, and sprightliness. That from Petersburgh merits still

higher encomium. Tell dear little _gampy_ that I have read over his

letter a great many times, and with great admiration. Mrs. Law, to

whom I showed it, thinks it a production of genius.

That good and ill fortune never come in single strokes, but in

sequences, you have heard since you were four years old. Since we

parted I have been almost daily surprised by some pleasant occurrence

or discovery of a personal nature. I pray it may continue a little

longer; even till a bust is found and obtained.

Mrs. Law was vexed and mortified beyond measure at missing you. She

has bid me say more things than this sheet would hold. The Misses

Butler are all here. I shall see them to-morrow. Mary Allen, that was,

now Mrs. Livingston; that beautiful little Miss Gray, whom we saw in

Boston; she became Mrs. Dobel, then a widow, and now Mrs. Payne.

At Philadelphia Mrs. Lenox and K. almost quarrelled with me for your

passing their gate without calling. They had made some preparation,

and, in good faith, desired your visit. Miss Boadley, too, talked of

you with great interest. At Wilmington I saw no one of your

acquaintance; nor at Baltimore, except Susan Smith, who is there on a

visit from Princeton.

To go back to New-York. All things are much as you left them, except

that what regards gamp is a good deal better. Mrs. Laight, and child,

and sisters all in good condition and in high spirits. Have already

been dancing--I believe twice. At Mrs. General G.'s I met by accident

Mrs. Rogers. She is a pleasant, cheerful, comely woman, to appearance

not past thirty-eight or forty. You know we had heard otherwise.

Eustis has sprained his ankle, which puts him, for the present, out of

the gay world. I have not been abroad except to dine with Mrs. L. I am

rejoiced at what you tell me of La Gree.

Pray take immediately in hand some book which requires attention and

study. You will, I fear, lose the habit of study, which would be a

greater misfortune than to lose your head. M'Kinnon has sent me out a

beautiful picture of the celebrated Madame Ricammier. It is a good

deal like your pretty widow, Mrs. Wright. _Bon soir_.

A. BURR.

FROM THEODOSIA.

Charleston, November 19, 1803.

All your trouble, good precepts, and better example have been thrown

away on me. I am still a child. Your letter of the 7th inst. reached

me yesterday. Of course it made me very happy; but those pretty little

playthings from D. M'Kinnon delighted me. I looked at them over and

over, with as much pleasure as a miser over his hoard. But you must

send me the shawl. I shall be down at the races, and want to have the

gratification of displaying it.

From my date and my last letter you imagine that Natalie is in town,

but you are mistaken. I came down in the hope of meeting her, and to

buy some furniture for the Oaks. Mari on business. I return to

Waccamaw to-morrow morning early. My husband left me to-day for

Columbia. He received your letter too late to answer it hence, but

will do so from Columbia. As for me, I am in the height of bustle and

confusion. Before seven this morning I had packed up two or three

trunks, and unpacked them all again. Is not that industry? I write as

if I were in a hurry. You may perceive the state of my head and house

from the style of my letter. More from Hagley. Good-by.

THEODOSIA.

TO THEODOSIA.

Washington, December 6, 1803.

Since closing a letter to you last evening, I have received two more,

8th and 19th of November. You are a good girl to write so often. Oh,

yes! I knew how much of a child you were when I sent the pretty

things. Just such another child is _son pere_.

I write from my breakfast-table, having not yet been abroad, and

having denied myself to everybody. I have, therefore, nothing now to

say, and should not so soon have _troubled_ you again, but for that

part of your letter which speaks of the condition of your house. I

hasten to say that, in my opinion, your house will not be a fit or

healthy residence for your boy before the middle of April or 1st of

May. The walls may, to the touch, appear dry in three or four weeks;

but shut up any room for twelve or twenty-four hours, and enter before

it be aired, you will meet an offensive, and, as I believe, a

pernicious effluvia; an air totally unfit for respiration, unelastic,

and which, when inhaled, leaves the lungs unsatisfied. This is the air

you will breathe if you inhabit the house. I could, perhaps, show

chymically how the atmosphere of the closed rooms becomes thus azotic,

but I prefer to submit to the test of your senses.

The shawl shall be ordered on, since you will risk it. Yes, go to the

races, and appear to be amused. Be more social.

A. BURR.

TO THEODOSIA.

Washington, December 9, 1803.

When any thing amuses me, my first thought is whether it would not

also amuse you; and the pleasure is but half enjoyed until it is

communicated. The enclosed has suggested this prologue.

Perhaps I did not tell you that Kate made breakfast for Bonaparte one

morning at my house: a breakfast _à la François_, at twelve o'clock.

Of four ladies, she was the only one who spoke French, and she really

seemed inspired. No Parisian could have been more fluent, graceful, or

sprightly.

I have nothing to add of A. B., nor of any of the rest of the

alphabet; and my breakfast being on table, farewell.

A. BURR.

FROM THEODOSIA.

Clifton, December 1, 1803.

I have been here about a week, _cher pere_. Since your letter by

Gibbs, have not received a line from you. I do not know whether to be

most sorry or mad: a little of both troubles me at present; but, to

punish you for your silence, I will not tell you which preponderates.

Pray write to me immediately.

On the morning after writing to you in Charleston, I set off for the

country, as determined on; and, since my arrival, have learned that

Natalie was at my house in less than three hours after my departure.

Sumter's business will not allow him time to come here, so that I

shall go there. William drives me down in his curricle, and we shall

set off to-day--this morning--now. The flat is in the canal; the

curricle on board; my clothes not yet packed up; so good-by. Before I

finish I must tell you that I have again heard from La Greque; she is

astonishingly improved in appearance, so say others, and is very

happy. She has sent me a Parisian bonnet, two beautiful handkerchiefs,

and a pair of walking shoes. To the boy a French and English library;

and to Mari a beautiful little golden candlestick, and wax tapers to

light his segar.

My health is infinitely improved, and I attribute it to nothing but

the continual bustle I have been kept in for three weeks past. What a

charming thing a bustle is. Oh, dear, delightful confusion. It gives a

circulation to the blood, an activity to the mind, and a spring to the

spirits.

THEODOSIA.

TO THEODOSIA.

Washington, December 27, 1803.

Indeed, indeed, my dear little Theodosia, I will write to you very

soon. Don't scold and pout so, and I will tell you _how_ I visited

Annapolis, and _how_ I returned about an hour ago. All that, however,

may be told in half a line. I went and returned in my own little

coachee. But what I did and who I saw are other matters. Something,

too, about Celeste, and something about Madame G., whom you are

pleased to term the rich widow. This, I think, will keep you quiet a

week.

Your letter, written on your return from seeing Natalie, is received.

You are a dear good little girl to write me so; and of dear little

_gampy_, too, so much, yet never enough. God bless thee.

A. BURR

FROM THEODOSIA.

Clifton, December 10, 1803.

Behold me again at Clifton; and, in good truth, I begin to be cloyed

with the delights of bustle. William and myself left this the day

after the date of my last. Some difficulty in crossing the horses

delayed us till then. We reached Charleston on the second day, and I

found Natalie delighted to see me, and still pretty. She has grown

thinner, much thinner; but her complexion is still good, though more

languid. The loss of her hair is, however, an alteration much for the

worse. Her crop is pretty, but not half so much so as her fine brown

hair. I write you all these foolish little particulars because you

enter into them all, or, rather, are sensible of all their importance

to us. Natalie has a lovely little daughter called after her.

Mr. Sumter is very affectionate and attentive to her, and polite to

me. I like him infinitely better than I did. He is an amiable,

good-hearted man, with talents to render him respectable. The people

of Charleston have paid Natalie every possible attention; indeed, much

more than I ever received.

Your letter of the 22d of November greeted me on my arrival here. The

exchange has employed my thoughts ever since. Richmond Hill will, for

a few years to come, be more valuable than Morris's; and to you, who

are so fond of town, a place so far from it would be useless. So much

for my reasoning on one side; now for the other. Richmond Hill has

lost many of its beauties, and is daily losing more. If you mean it

for a residence, what avail its intrinsic value? If you sell part, you

deprive it of every beauty save the mere view. Morris's is the most

commanding view on the island. It is reputed to be indescribably

beautiful. The grounds are pretty. How many delightful walks can be

made on one hundred and thirty acres! How much of your taste

displayed! In ten or twenty years hence, one hundred and thirty acres

on New-York island will be a principality; and there is to me

something stylish, elegant, respectable, and suitable to you in having

a handsome country-seat. So that, upon the whole, I vote for Morris's.

You, perhaps, have not yet heard of the death of J. M'Pherson. He

expired on the road from town to his brother's. Poor Sally was with

him, and John here. He has gone for her, and thus Hagley will be

deserted for a long time.

Men are indubitably born monkeys. _Gampy_ imitates me in every thing I

do, and to-day I had a lesson not to be forgotten. He was playing in

my room while I was dressing; quite at the commencement of my toilet,

_toute a fais en desabille_, I ran out in the entry to call my maid;

while engaged in that operation, I turned round and saw my brother's

door opening within a few yards of me; girl-like, or rather babylike,

I ran to my room, threw the door open violently, and uttering a

scream, was at the other end of it in one jump. The boy, who was

busily engaged in eating mint-drops, no sooner heard me scream and

appear frightened than he yelled most loudly, and, running to me,

caught my clothes, clinched his fists, and appeared really alarmed for

two minutes. It was not affectation. Do you think this trait ominous

of a coward? You know my abhorrence and contempt of those animals.

Really I have been uneasy ever since it happened. You see I follow

your injunction to the letter. How do you like this essay? Have you

enough of _gampy_ now?

THEODOSIA.

TO CHARLES BIDDLE.

New-York, July 20, 1800.

MY DEAR SIR,

The President has hauled out into the stream. Your boys left my house

yesterday and went on board. They have gained very much of my esteem

and attachment by their amiable manners, their modesty, and good

sense; the friendship which I formerly bore them on your account is

now due to them on their own.

The more I reflect on the destination of these young men, the more I

am pleased with it; and if I had but one son, I think I should place

him in the navy.

If the object be ambition, our navy presents the best prospect of

honour and advancement. A young man of merit may be sure of rapid

promotion and opportunities of distinction. If the pursuit be wealth,

still the navy offers the fairest and most honourable means of

acquiring it.

But another reason, perhaps not often attended to nor generally

believed, would weigh very much with me. The young men of our day,

those, I mean, who are deemed to be in the higher ranks of life, are

addicted to gross and vicious habits, which are often ruinous to their

health and constitutions, and always corrupt the morals and enfeeble

the mind. In naval life they are certainly much less exposed to these

vices. The profession calls for the active exertions both of body and

mind; and I have always remarked that sailors, I mean those among them

who are men of education, and are stimulated by motives of honour or

ambition, have a generosity of temper, a frankness and manliness of

character, which is much more seldom seen in other orders of life.

I am, therefore, firmly persuaded that, situated as our country now

is, a young man of activity and talents has the best chance for

health, fortune, and honour by entering the navy. Your sons are under

peculiar advantages, for you may be assured that they will find not

only a friend, but truly a parent in Captain Truxton. We have talked

much about them, and I am happy to find that his dispositions towards

them are such as you could wish.

I am, dear sir,

Your very affectionate friend and servant,

A. BURR.

Recollect, if you please, the Trenton bridge, and find me a copy of

the law--any information with regard to the difficulties--the expense,

and probable income--also the doings of the commissioners, if indeed

they have done any thing.

FROM JAMES BIDDLE.

Tripoli Prison, November 29, 1803.

MY DEAR SIR,

I sit down to fulfil the promise made at parting, of writing you upon

our arrival in the Mediterranean. I had flattered myself with the

pleasure of hearing from you frequently during the long and happy

cruise which I had contemplated; for, although the greater part of our

time was to be spent far up the Mediterranean, where opportunities to

America rarely occur, yet I should have written you from every port we

visited, sealed, and forwarded my letters as a conveyance offered. But

fate, it seems, had cruelly ordained that we should not realize those

prospects of pleasure and gratification which we had, with so much

certainty, calculated upon; and that this cruise, which had promised

to be so agreeable, should be suddenly terminated, in its very

commencement, by events the most distressing to ourselves and our

friends, and which may involve our country in difficulties and

perplexities with this regency.

For the unfortunate events of the thirty-first ultimo, the lamentable

day which terminated in the loss of our ship [2] by being wrecked on

rocks within a few miles of this town, and in ourselves becoming

prisoners of war to the Bashaw of Tripoli (I should have said slaves,

for we certainly are in the most abject slavery, our very lives being

within the power and at the very nod of a most capricious tyrant), let

me refer you to statements which I presume you will already have seen

before the receipt of this. Suffice it to say, that the shoal we run

upon was never laid down on any chart yet published, nor ever before

discovered by any of our vessels cruising off this coast;

consequently, the charts and soundings justifying as near an approach

to the land as we made, not the smallest degree of censure can be

attached to Captain Bainbridge for the loss of the ship. That, after

having grounded, every effort was made, and every expedient tried,

without effect, that could have the remotest probability of getting

her afloat; and that, after having sustained the fire of the enemy's

gunboats for upward of four hours, and a re-enforcement approaching

from the town, while our guns were rendered almost useless from the

careening of the ship, there seemed no alternative left but the cruel,

mortifying one of hauling down our colours. Let me also tell you that

the treatment we received from these savages was such as raised our

utmost indignation. Our swords were snatched from us; the money, and

every thing in our pockets was stolen; some had their boots pulled off

to examine if something was not concealed there; and some had their

very coats stripped off their backs, which the barbarians exultingly

put upon themselves; and, as if the trophies of some signal victory,

seemed to triumph in obtaining what fortune alone had put them in

possession of. To murmur at their treatment was only to expose

ourselves to repeated and more provoking insults; to resist was only

hazarding our lives. We were therefore obliged, however degrading in

our own opinion, to submit to these lawless, unfeeling robbers.

We were all conducted, amid the shouts and acclamations of the rabble

multitude, to the palace, and there ushered into the presence of the

mighty bashaw, who, seated in state, with his council about him, and

surrounded by guards, awaited our coming. He asked a variety of

questions, principally concerning our ship and our squadron; and,

after having us all paraded before him, and taken a full survey of

each of us, at which a gracious smile appeared upon his countenance,

expressive of his inward satisfaction at so unexpected a piece of good

fortune, we were carried by our guards to the house allotted for us

during our imprisonment in this country. It was the American consular

house formerly occupied by Mr. Catchcart.

Here we were left undisturbed to our own reflections till the

fifteenth instant. A few days previous to this the prime minister had

written to inform Captain Bainbridge that a letter had been received

from the Tripolitan captain of the ship captured by the U. S. Frigate

John Adams, in which he complained of being ill treated by Captain

Rogers; that, in consequence of this, he should be under the necessity

of retaliating such ill treatment upon us, unless Captain B. would

immediately write to Commodore Preble, and _order_ him to deliver up

all the prisoners he had, in which latter case we should continue to

be treated as heretofore. No exchange was proposed, but we were to

deliver up seventy-eight prisoners merely to ensure our not being

cruelly treated. Captain B. told him that he would write to Commodore

Preble, and acquaint him with their demands; but as to ordering or

requesting him to deliver up the prisoners in question, he would not

do it. We were, therefore, conducted to the castle, under the idea of

being put to work. The change, indeed, was an unpleasant one, from a

large, commodious house, to what they called a castle, which was, in

fact, a most loathsome prison. We were crammed into the same room with

all our ship's company--how well calculated to contain such a number,

you may be enabled to judge, when I tell you that the place was about

eighty feet by twenty-five. How comfortable, when I tell you that the

only place to admit the air was through a small aperture in the top of

the house, grated over, with no floor, nor a single article of

furniture, so that, when we were tired standing up, we were obliged to

lay down on the ground. While there, Lisle, the admiral,

_accidentally_ passed, and was very much _surprised_ at our removal.

He came to inquire the cause, observing that he had understood a

letter was received, mentioning that the Tripolitan prisoners had been

illy treated by Captain Rogers. Captain Bainbridge told him, that if

such a letter had been written, the writer had asserted a most

malicious falsehood; that the laws of the United States absolutely

forbid any prisoners being illy treated; and that having grounded,

every effort was made, and every expedient tried, without effect, that

could have the remotest probability of getting her afloat; and that,

after having sustained the fire of the enemy's gunboats for upward of

four hours, and a re-enforcement approaching from the town, while our

guns were rendered almost useless from the careening of the ship,

there seemed no alternative left but the cruel, mortifying one of

hauling down our colours. Let me also tell you that the treatment we

received from these savages was such as raised our utmost indignation.

Our swords were snatched from us; the money, and every thing in our

pockets was stolen; some had their boots pulled off to examine if

something was not concealed there; and some had their very coats

stripped off their backs, which the barbarians exultingly put upon

themselves; and, as if the trophies of some signal victory, seemed to

triumph in obtaining what fortune alone had put them in possession of.

To murmur at their treatment was only to expose ourselves to repeated

and more provoking insults; to resist was only hazarding our lives. We

were therefore obliged, however degrading in our own opinion, to

submit to these lawless, unfeeling robbers.