Litchfield, 6th March, 1781.
——Where can ——- be? Poor suffering soul; worthy a better fate. Heaven preserve him for his own sake; for his distressed mother's. I pity her from my heart, and lament my inability to alleviate her sorrows. I invoke a better aid. May her "afflicted spirit find the only solace of its woes"—Religion, Heaven's greatest boon to man; the only distinction he ought to boast. In this, he is lord of the creation; without it, the most pitiable of all created things.
How strangely we pass through life! All acknowledge themselves mortal and immortal; and yet prefer the trifles of to-day to the treasures of eternity. Piety teaches resignation. Resignation without piety loses its beauty, and sinks into insensibility. Your beautiful quotation is worth more than all I can write in a twelvemonth. Continue writing on the subject. It is both pleasing and improving. The better I am acquainted with it, the more charms I find. Worlds should not purchase the little I possess. I promise myself many happy hours dedicated at the shrine of religion,
Yours, affectionately,
Litchfield, May, 1781.
Our being the subject of much inquiry, conjecture, and calumny, is no more than we ought to expect. My attention to you was ever pointed enough to attract the observation of those who visited the house. Your esteem more than compensated for the worst they could say. When I am sensible I can make you and myself happy, I will readily join you to suppress their malice. But, till I am confident ofthis, I cannot think of our union. Till then I shall take shelter under the roof of my dear mother, where, by joining stock, we shall have sufficient to stem the torrent of adversity.
You speak of my spirits as if they were at my command, or depressed only from perverseness of temper. In these you mistake. Believe me, you cannot wish their return more ardently than I do. I would this moment consent to become a public mendicant, could I be restored to the same tranquillity of mind I enjoyed this time twelvemonth. The influence my letters may have on your studies is imaginary. The idea is so trite that I ask in hopes it was worn from your mind. My last year's trials are vouchers. I was always writing with a view to please you, and as often failed in the attempt. If a desire for my own happiness cannot restore me to myself, pecuniary motives never can. I wish you to study for your own sake; to ensure yourself respect and independence; to ensure us the comforts of life, when Providence deigns to fit our hearts for the enjoyment. I shall never look forward with confidence till your pride extends to that. I had vainly flattered my self that pride was inseparable to true love. In yours I find my error; but cannot renounce my idea of its being a necessary supportto, and the only securityfor, permanent affection.
You see by the enclosed how ready my friends are to receive you, and promote your interest. I wish you may be fortunate in executing aunt Clark's business. My health and spirits are neither better nor worse than when you left me. I thank you for your attention to Bird's prescription.
Adieu,
Sharon, September 11th, 1781.
My friend and neighbour, Mr. Livingston, will have the pleasure of presenting you this. You will find him quite the gentleman, and worthy your attention. Enclosed is a letter to my sister, which must be delivered by yourself. You know my reasons too well to infer from my caution that I entertain the least doubt of Mr. Livingston's punctuality.
Monsieur Tetard is gone to the manor, summoned by Mrs. Montgomery, on pretence of his being the only surviving witness to the general's will. The business that was to have detained him but a few days has kept him these six weeks. I cannot account for his delay, unless his extravagant encomiums on the progress of a friend of yours has proved a stimulation to those of superior talents. He exaggerates exceedingly in extolling his pupils. Those whose expectations are raised from his description must prepare themselves for disappointment.
Mr. and Mrs. Reeve were well a few days ago. She rides every morning to visit the boy, and returns before breakfast. I fear they will disappoint me in the promised visit.
We were obliged to Dr. Cutting for the most pleasing account of your health and spirits. Also, of your great progress in law. Judge Hobart expects Colonels Burr and Troup will make his suite to the October court, where he hopes to usher them, with all the eclat due to their merit. He counts the weeks, which he has now reduced to five. While the warmth of friendship animates his countenance, his heart swells with pride at the honour of patronising two such characters. He must not be disappointed; this must be the route, or he will believe himself slighted. I am obliged to his zeal, as it will procure us the pleasure of seeing you. The sight of an old acquaintance is quite a phenomenon. I am not surprised that genuine hospitality is fled to cottages. You will find it à la rustique chez votre amie.
Fairfield, 26th February, 1781.
Your letter of the 15th inst. pleases me. You have a heart that feels: a heart susceptible of tender friendship. Life has not a single charm to compare with such sensations. You know too well how to excite such emotions. Happy for us. These expel the keenest pangs. There is no such thing as real happiness. At best, it is but a delusion. We make our own pleasures as we do our troubles. Friendship will heighten the one and moderate the other.
I have been tortured with the anxiety of suspense. It has given me the most poignant distress. It disordered my mind; at times, almost drove me to despair. Some of my friends saw the effect, but could not conjecture the cause. You alone could penetrate the feelings of my heart; you alone are in possession of that evidence which will convict me of my weakness; my want of fortitude. I dare intrust you. I feel the influence of your friendship. To a heart like yours, this will prove the sincerity and affection of mine. I bid adieu to camp, having completed my business, with my thanks to our worthy commander-in-chief for his attention to my character. The discharge he gave me equalled my wishes and exceeded my expectations. I have enjoyed the most rational satisfaction for three days past. I have commenced student. Dr. Johnson has given me my plan of studies, and free access to his library. My ambition is not great, nor my views unbounded. I shall proportion the means to the object. If I persevere with attention, I have something more than wishes to build upon. Nothing within the compass of my abilities, that is justifiable, will be left untried, to gratify my reasonable desires.
I know that your request proceeded entirely from your friendship for me, and that you felt happy that it was in your power to oblige me. I feel the force of your kindness, but must deny myself the pleasure of spending some months with my friend. My time is short; age presses upon me. Four years have been devoted to my country, for which I have received no compensation.
It gives me pleasure to hear that your health is such that you can be thankful for the blessing, and are in a situation to enjoy yourself in the pursuit of your studies. My heart is sincerely interested in your happiness. Let me know your feelings, that I may know how to refine mine. Your friendship and letters add a continual charm to my life, and will always please the heart and secure the affection of, yours,
With sincerity,
Albany, 5th June, 1781.
I was absent when yours of the 10th ultimo came, and therefore did not receive it till the first inst. You may be assured will one day repent his insolence. Uniformity of conduct and great appearance of moderation are all that can be put in practice immediately. The maxim of a man whom neither of us esteem very highly is excellent on this occasion—"Suaviter in modo, fortiter in re." See, my dear Theodosia, what you bring upon yourself by having once piddled at Latin. The maxim, however, would bear sheets of comment and days of reflection. I second the just pride of ——, in being averse to crouch to a villain. Your letter to E. would have every influence that mine possibly could.
These crosses are of that class which, though they may perplex for a moment (a moment is too much), yet cannot affect our real happiness. That mind is truly great which can bear with equanimity the trifling and unavoidable vexations of life, and be affected only by those events which determine our substantial bliss. Every period, and every situation, has a portion of these trifling crosses; and those who expect to avoid them all, or conquer them all, must be wretched without respite. Witness ——-. I am half vexed at the manner in which you speak of what you term "the sorrows of ——-." They are just of this trifling kind. Say and think no more of them. Their impression was momentary, and is long past.
G.'s uniformity of conduct for some time has established his character, and crushed the malice of his enemies. He has, however, mingled some address in his deportment—has made visits, and some acts of civility, to his avowed enemies, by which means he has gained some and silenced others. His whole conduct, his language, and even his thoughts, seem to have in view the happiness of. I believe this idea is impressed on him every hour of his life.
Yours,
Albany, 21st October, 1781.
I do myself the honour to enclose you several letters, which were intended, I believe, to introduce me to your acquaintance, perhaps to your friendship. I am particularly unfortunate to see neither Mr. Hobart nor yourself on the present occasion; the more so, as I find a rule of unexpected rigour, which, if strictly adhered to, must effectually exclude me from this bar. Mr. Judge Yates gives me reason to hope this rule may be enlarged. If it should be deemed unadvisable to make one of such latitude as may include me within a general description, perhaps my particular situation may be thought to claim particular indulgence. Before the revolution, and long before the existence of the present rule, I had served some time with an attorney of another state. At that period I could have availed my self of this service; and, surely, no rule could be intended to have such retrospect as to injureone whose only misfortune is having sacrificed his time, his constitution, and his fortune, to his country.
It would give me sensible regret were my admission to establish a precedent which might give umbrage to the bar; but, should your opinion accord with my wishes, with respect to the indulgence due to my particular case, the expression of it, to any gentleman of the profession, would doubtless remove the possibility of discontent. Perhaps I assume a freedom which personal acquaintance only could warrant. I beg, sir, you will ascribe it to the reliance I am taught to place on your goodness, and the confidence with which your character inspires even those who have no other title to your notice.
Whatever may be the success of my present designs, I shall do myself the honour of waiting on you, and assuring you, in person, of the respect and esteem with which I am your obedient servant,
Colonel Burr frequently impressed upon those with whom he was in the habit of a regular correspondence, the advantage of committing to paper daily, in the form of a journal, such thoughts or ideas as occurred and were deemed desirable to repeat. He adopted this form in his communications with Mrs. Prevost. The following is a specimen:—
Albany, Thursday, December 3d, 1781.
I am at length arrived at my destined haven, and, what is very unusual for me, have been successful in several trivial circumstances, such as getting over the ferry (which is difficult at this season), finding temporary quarters for my chevaux without difficulty or delay. I cannot help regarding these as harbingers of good luck. I am, however, not fortunate in finding Judge Yates. He is from home. G. civil, but unwell. The room promised me is not fitted; must therefore seek other lodgings. Bon soir. Visit me in my slumbers.
Friday night, December 4th.
Till sunset I was in doubt whether I should not be obliged to leave Albany for want of quarters. Have at length found tolerable. No price yet fixed. Probably not less than trois piasters the week. A day completely lost, and I, of course, in ill humour with every thing but thee.
Saturday, December 5th.
A sick headache this whole day. I earned it by eating last night a hearty supper of Dutch sausages, and going to bed immediately after. I am surprised it did not operate in the way of my disorder, which was formerly the certain consequence of every error in diet; but no symptom of that, though I was very restless.
I took the true Indian cure for the headache. Made a light breakfast of tea, stretched myself on a blanket before the fire, fasted till evening, and then tea again. I thought, through the whole day, that if you could sit by me, and stroke my head with your little hand, it would be well; and that, when we are formally united, far from deeming a return of this disorder un malheur, I should esteem it a fortunate apology for a day of luxurious indulgence, which I should not otherwise allow myself or you.
Most unexpectedly, Lewis called upon me this evening, civilly offered me his house, and asked me to dine. I was wrong, I think, to accept his invitation, but this did not strike me till I had engaged. Must dine there to-morrow.
Sunday, 6th December.
This is the third day in town, and no business done. These two days past I have been studying the second volume of Rousseau. G. is returned. He never appeared more unlike himself. I was somehow uncommonly stupid, and, would you believe it, even awkward. Said very little, and that little with hesitation. You know there are days when every thing goes against one. Paid little attention to anybody (that little, somehow, ill timed), and received still less from them.
How could we forget Latimer? He has sung Theodosia's praise among the southern army in terms with which her best friends must be pleased. He has also established the character of A. Burr. Quackenbush is determined to be civil. Says his visits will be frequent.
Yates is returned. More of him to-morrow. An old, weather-beaten lady, Miss Depeyster, has given the whole history of Burr, and much of Theo., but nothing unfavourable. In a place where Burr thought himself a stranger, there is scarce any age or sex that does not, either from in formation or acquaintance, know something of him.
I am surprised I forgot to advise you to get a Franklin fireplace. They have not the inconvenience of stoves, are warm, save wood, and never smoke. The cost will not be, probably, more than ten or fifteen dollars, which will be twice saved this winter in wood andcomfort, and they may be moved anywhere. If you have fears aboutbrat, [Foonote: Mrs. Prevost's youngest child.] I have none. He will never burn himself but once; and, by way of preventive, I would advise you to do that for him. It will be put up in a few hours by anybody. I am in doubt whether it will be best to have it in the common room or one of the back rooms. The latter will have many advantages. You may then have a place sacred to love, reflection, and books. This, however, as you find best; but that you have one I am determined, unless you can give some better reason against it than I at present know of. Indeed, I would wish you had two. You will get them with no trouble from the Salisbury furnace. It is of the first importance that you suffer as little as possible the present winter. It may, in a great measure, determine your health ever after. I confess I have still some transient distrusts that you set too little value on your own life and comfort. Remember, it is not yours alone; but your letters shall convince me. I waive the subject.
I am not certain I shall be regularly punctual in writing you in this manner every day when I get at business; but I shall, if possible, devote one quarter of an hour a day to you. In return, I demand one half of an hour every day from you; more I forbid, unless on special occasions. This half hour is to be mine, to be invariably at the same time, and, for that purpose, fixed at an hour least liable to interruption, and as you shall find most convenient. Mine cannot be so regular, as I only indulge myself in it when I am fatigued with business. The children will have each their sheet, and, at the given hour, write, if but a single word Burr, at this half hour is to be a kind of watchword.
Monday, 7th December.
I keep always a memorandum for you, on which, when I think of any thing at any time of day that I wish to write, I make a short note in a manner which no other person would understand. When I sit down to write I have nothing to do but look at my memorandum. I would recommend the same to you, unless you rather choose to write at the moment when you think of any thing.
I have continually felt some apprehensions about the success of Troup with the court. The Springs are but twenty-eight miles from Albany; I will meet you there.
Phil. Van Rensselaer, whom I have never before seen, has been to introduce himself, and tender his services of every kind. He is of the most respectable and richest inhabitants.
Tuesday, 8th December.
No place yet; but, that time need not be lost, I have been looking over Rousseau's 4th volume. I imagine ——- gathered thence his sentiments on the subject of jealousy. If so, he has grossly mistaken the ideas of Rousseau. Do you discover a symptom of it? Far otherwise. You see only confidence and love. That jealousy for which you are an advocate, he condemns as appertaining to brutes and sensualists. Discard, I beseech you, ideas so degrading to true love. I am mortified with the reflection that they were ever yours.
I think ——- must have taken pains to have overlooked the following paragraph, when, in enumerating the duties of a woman towards a lover or husband, he makes it principally to consist "in respecting themselves, in order to acquire respect. How delightful are these privileges! How respectable are they! how cordially do men prize them, when a woman knows how to render them estimable." I fear ——- will be convinced of this but too late. I am glad to find, however, that the idea so often urged (in vain) by me, is not a mere vagary of my own brain, but is supported by so good authority.
Wednesday, 9th December.
I have this day made a feint at law. But, were my life at stake, it could not command my attention.
Thursday, 10th December.
We have about twelve or fourteen inches of snow. When you read my letters I wish you would make minutes at the time of such facts as require an answer; for, if you trust your memory till the time of writing, you will omit half you would otherwise say.
Friday, 11th December.
I really wish much to know the conduct of ——-. It is, however, more curiosity than anxiety. It would be childish to build any part of one's happiness on a basis so unstable.
The Van Rensselaer before mentioned, and henceforth to be designated byLl., proves to be a phenomenon of goodness and (can you believe it) even tenderness. Tenderness, I hear you cry, in a Hollandois! But hold your injustice; the character and fine heart of Van Rensselaer will, I think, in future, remove your prejudice, especially when you add to this his marked attention and civility.
Saturday, 12th December.
Van Rensselaer finds fault with my quarters, which, indeed, are far removed from elegance, and, in some respects, from convenience. He insists that I suffer him to provide me better.
I have not hitherto had an hour of Yates. His reasons, however, have been good. On Monday we are to mangle law.
Sunday, 13th December.
Van Rensselaer has succeeded perfectly to my wish. I am with two maidens, aunts of his, obliging and (incredible!!) good-natured. The very paragon of neatness. Not an article of furniture, even to a teakettle, that would soil a muslin handkerchief. I have two upper rooms. I was interrupted at the line above, and cannot now, for my life, recollect what I was intending to write. I leave it, however, to plague you as it has done me.
Monday, 14th December.
I really fear Yates is playing the fool with me. Still evasive, though plausibly so. I have just had an interview. To-morrow I must and will come to a positive eclaircissement.
I am determined, in future, when doubt arises in my mind whether I shall write a thing or not, invariably to write it. You recollect ——-'s advising that Carlos [3] should learn the violin.
G. was unkind enough to remind him that he was formerly opposed to that opinion. There was a degree of insult in this reproach of which I did not think G. capable. I truly believe he did not reflect on the tendency of it. I do not remember that he is apt to take such unfair advantage of his friends. Happy they who can make improvement of each other's errors. The necessary, but dear-bought knowledge of experience, is earned at double cost by those who reap alone.
Since I left you, I have not taken pen in hand without intending to write you. I am happy in having done it, for I now feel perfectly relieved.
Tuesday, 15th December.
Yesterday was partly a day of business. The evening wholly and advantageously so. This day has been rather a feint. Yates engaged. I beg ten thousand pardons of Miss Depeyster; she is our warm friend and advocate. One Bogart, at Tappan, is the scoundrel.
Wednesday, 16th December.
I perceive this letter-writing will not answer; though I write very little, it is still half my business; for, whenever I find myself either at a loss what to do, or any how discomposed or dull, I fly to these sheets, and even if I do not write, I ponder upon it, and in this way sacrifice many hours without reflecting that time passes away. Yates still backward, but the day tolerably spent.
I have also been busy in fixing a Franklin fireplace for myself. I shall have it completed to-morrow. I am resolved you shall have one or two of them. You have no idea of their convenience, and you can at any time remove them.
I expect to despatch Carlos to-morrow. I think I have already mentioned that I wrote you from Kinderhook, and also this week by Colonel Lewis, enclosed to our friend at Sharon.
An engagement of business to-day and this evening with Yates, prevents me preparing for Carlos as I expected.
Footnotes:
1. The lady of the Hon. Stephen Van Rensselaer
2. The sons of Mrs. Prevost, Frederick and John B. The latter was Judge Prevost, of Louisiana. Mrs. Prevost was unable to expend such a sum on these young gentlemen. it was a means adopted by Colonel Burr delicately to assist, from his own purse, a desponding son of science. Similar instances of his liberality, in the course of his life, were numerous.
3. A negro boy belonging to Colonel Burr.
In the autumn of 1781, as may be seen by the preceding correspondence, Colonel Burr was in Albany, preparing himself for admission to the bar. Judge Yates rendered him essential service on the occasion. His friendship and kindness were appreciated, and gratefully recollected. At that time Chief-justice Richard Morris, Robert Yates, and John Sloss Hobart composed the bench of the Supreme Court of the State of New-York. All these gentlemen were friendly to Burr, and treated him with the utmost courtesy; but for Judge Yates he entertained, during the continuance of his life, the most profound respect and veneration.
By the rules of the court it was required that candidates for admission should have pursued a course of legal studies not less than three years previous to presenting themselves for examination. Colonel Burr applied to the court to dispense with this rule in his case. The application was opposed with great zeal by all the members of the bar; and, as no counsellor would make the necessary motion on the subject, Burr was not only compelled to do it himself, but to argue the question with the ablest of the profession.
After hearing the argument, the court determined that, as he had been employed in the service of his country, when he might, under other circumstances, have been a law-student, they would dispense with the rigour of the rule so far as it applied to the period of study; but that no indulgence would be granted in reference to the necessary qualifications. In pursuance of this decision he underwent a severe and critical examination by some of the most eminent members of the bar, who were anxious for his rejection. The examination, however, resulted in a triumphant admission that the candidate was duly qualified to practise; and he was accordingly licensed as an attorney, on the 19th day of January, 1782. And at "a supreme court of judicature, held for the State of New-York, at the City Hall of the city of Albany, on the 17th day of April, 1782, Aaron Burr having, on examination, been found of competent ability and learning to practise as counsellor," it was ordered that he be accordingly admitted.
Soon after Colonel Burr commenced the practice of law in the city of Albany, he invited his friend and brother soldier, Major W. Popham, to join him, and pursue a course of legal studies. This invitation was given with his accustomed kindness. About the period of Burr's marriage, Major Popham replies.
Fishkill, August 16th, 1782
Yesterday I was accidentally favoured with your friendly letter of the 3d of May, from Litchfield, which was peculiarly agreeable, as it contained the first official accounts I have had of you since my leaving Albany, and dispelled a train of gloomy reflections which your supposed long silence had suggested.
The approbation you have given of my conduct, in an affair in which you have so generously interested yourself, is very flattering. A detail of the circumstances which rendered it necessary to postpone the prosecution of my intended plan, would be too prolix for the subject of a letter. They would not present one pleasing reflection; and I love you too well to give you pain. Suspend, therefore, your curiosity and your opinion, until the duties of the field permit me to see you, when you shall be satisfied.
I hope the alterations you have made in your plan of life may equal your most sanguine wishes. I am pleased that you have taken a house in Albany, and sincerely congratulate you on an event that promises you so much happiness. May you long enjoy all the blessings which can flow from that happy state, for which Heaven has so remarkably designed you.
But why am I requested to "say nothing about obligations," while you continue to load me with new ones? Or, why should I be denied the common privilege of every liberal mind, that of acknowledging the obligation which I have not the power of cancelling? Yes, my friend, your generous offer claims my warmest thanks; but the very principle which excites my gratitude forbids me to accept it. Dr. L informs me you have written twice to me. One of the letters is lost. Will you speedily supply the deficiency? If you can spare an hour from business, retirement, or love, let me entreat you to devote it to your friend. I cannot tell you how much I long to hear from you. Adieu.
Yours sincerely,
To Mrs. Prevost.
Albany, December 23d, 1781.
My dear Theodosia is now happy by the arrival of Carlos. This was not wishing you a happy Christmas, but actually making it so. Let all our compliments be henceforth practical. The language of the world sounds fulsome to tastes refined by the sweets of affection.
I see mingle in the transports of the evening the frantic little Bartow. [2] Too eager to embrace the bliss he has in prospect; frustrating his own purposes by inconsiderate haste; misplacing every thing, and undoing what he meant to do. It will only confuse you. Nothing better can be done than to tie him, in order to expedite his own business. That you might not be cheerful alone, I have obeyed the orders of your heart (for you cannot, even at this distance, conceal them) by a determination to take a social, friendly supper with Van Rensselaer.
You wrote me too much by Dom. I hope it was not from a fear that I should be dissatisfied with less. It is, I confess, rather singular to find fault with the quantity, when matter and manner are so delightful. You must, however, deal less in sentiments and more in ideas. Indeed, in the letter in answer to my last, you will need to be particularly attentive to this injunction. I think constantly of the approaching change in our affairs, and what it demands. Do not let us, like children, be so taken with the prospect as to lose sight of the means.
Remember to write me facts and ideas, and don't torment me with compliments, or yourself with sentiments to which I am already no stranger. Write but little, and very little at once. I do not know for what reason, Theodosia, but I cannot feel my usual anxiety about your health, though I know you to be ill, and dangerously so. One reason is, that I have more belief in your attention to yourself.
Your idea about the water was most delightful. It kept me awake a whole night, and led to a train of thoughts and sensations which cannot be described. Indeed, the whole of your letter was marked with a degree of confidence and reliance which augurs every thing that is good. The French letter was truly elegant, as also that enclosed in compliance with my request.
If Reeves has received the money upon the order I gave him, he may send me by Carlos about twenty-five guineas, if he can spare so much of it. I am in no present want.
Pardon me for not answering your last. My mind is so engrossed by new views and expectations, that I cannot disengage it. I have not, these five days past, slept more thantwo hoursa night, and yet feel refreshed and well. Your presentiments of my illness on a certain evening were wide from truth: believe me, you have no talent that way. Leave it to others.
I think, if you keep Carlos two nights, it will serve; but keep him longer rather than fatigue yourself. Adieu.
On the 2d of July, 1782, Colonel Burr was married to Mrs. Theodosia Prevost. In April preceding he had entered into the practice of the law in the city of Albany. His attention to business was unremitted. In consequence, he soon found himself crowded with clients from every quarter of the state. During his residence in Albany, his mind was exclusively engrossed with his profession and his family. In the education of Mrs. Burr's children by her first husband he took a deep interest. Neither labour nor expense was regarded. It was his wish that they should be accomplished, as well as educated men.
The preliminary treaty of peace having been signed, Colonel Burr resolved to remove his family to the city of New-York so soon as the British should evacuate it. Here he anticipated (and in this he was not disappointed) an extensive practice. On the 20th of November, 1781, the legislature of the State of New-York passed an act disqualifying from practice, in the courts of the state, all "attorneys, solicitors, and counsellors at law," who could not produce satisfactory certificates, showing their attachment and devotion to the whig cause during the then pending war with Great Britain. This act was in full force at the peace of 1783, and remained so, without any attempt to modify it, until March, 1785, when a bill was introduced into the legislature to repeal certain sections of it, so far as they operated upon individuals therein named. The bill was lost. But, on the 4th of April, 1786, the restriction thus imposed on the tory lawyers was removed by an act of the legislature.
The law of 1781, previous to its repeal, had operated most favourably for the Whig lawyers. Those of talents and standing, such as Colonel Burr and others, had obtained a run of business which enabled them to compete with the most profound of their tory rivals.
It was supposed that the British troops would evacuate the city of New-York in the spring or early in the summer of 1783; but they remained until the 25th of November of that year. Colonel Burr applied to his friend, Thomas Bartow, to procure him a house for the accommodation of his family, which he accordingly did.
New-York, April 16th, 1783
I received your agreeable favour a few days ago, and am happy to congratulate you on the establishment of a peace: hope I shall soon have the pleasure of seeing you in town. I have procured you a good house in Maiden-lane, at the rate of two hundred pounds a year. The rent to commence when the troops leave the city. Doctor Brown can inform you more particulars about it, as he went with me to view it. Before I engaged this house, I consulted Mrs. Clark She proposed her house in Broadway, but could not get the tenant out, so that she gave her consent to this.
Very respectfully yours,
Albany, 25th March, 1783.
Some think absence tends to increase affection; the greater part that it wears it away. I believe neither, but that it only tends to prove how far the heart is capable of loving; or rather, whether it is real or imaginary. When the latter, every object that amuses, blots out the idea of the absent, we find that they are not so necessary to our happiness as we had fancied. But when that love is real, what can amuse, what engage the mind, to banish, for a single instant, the object of its delight? It hates every necessity that wrests it an instant from the contemplation of its beauties; its virtues are ever presenting themselves to increase our regret, and suggest innumerable fears for its safety. Such have been the occupations of this day. I tremble at every noise: new apprehensions are ever alarming me. Every tender sensation is awake to thee.
26th March.
My extreme anxiety operated severely upon my health. I have not had so ill a turn in some months. The remedies of S. prove but little more efficacious than those of G. I do without either. Various are the conjectures respecting your errand. All think me of the party. My spirits need, my heart grows impatient for your return. Every countenance speaks for you, while Theodosia grieves.
27th March.
My health is rather better. I have just this moment heard of General Schuyler's going; have only time to tell you I rejoice at the enclosed. It will save your hurry and anxiety Popham has written and engaged for your attendance.
When the British were about to evacuate the city of New-York, and it was ascertained that Colonel Burr had made the necessary arrangements to settle there, his whig friends became anxious that he should receive an appointment. Among those who urged this measure was Judge Hobart, who had ever entertained an exalted opinion of his talents and business habits. As soon as Colonel Burr was informed of the friendly views entertained by the judge, he wrote him, expressing his unwillingness to be considered a competitor with any gentleman for an appointment. To this he received an answer.
June 17th, 1783.
Your favour has been received. However pure your views may be, I fear you must be contented with the character of a private gentleman so long as you determine to avoid a competition; for I am told there are long lists of applicants for all the offices in the city and county of New-York.
With great respect, yours,
Albany, August 14th, 1783.
How unfortunate, my dearest Aaron, is our present separation. I never shall have resolution to consent to another. We must not be guided by others. We are certainly formed of different materials; and our undertakings must coincide with them.
A few hours after I wrote you by Colonel Lewis, our sweet infant [3] was taken ill, very ill. My mind and spirits have been on the rack from that moment to this. When she sleeps, I watch anxiously; when she wakes, anxious fears accompany every motion. I talked of my love towards her, but I knew it not till put to this unhappy test. I know not whether to give her medicine or withhold it: doubt and terror are the only sensations of which I am sensible. She has slept better last night, and appears more lively this morning, than since her illness. This has induced me to postpone an express to you, which I have had in readiness since yesterday. If this meets you, I need not dwell upon my wish. I will only put an injunction on your riding so fast, or in the heat, or dew. Remember your presence is to support, to console your Theo., perhaps to rejoice with her at the restoration of our much-loved child. Let us encourage this hope; encourage it, at least, till you see me, which I flatter myself will be before this can reach you. Some kind spirit will whisper to my Aaron how much his tender attention is wanted to support his Theo.: how much his love is necessary to give her that fortitude, that resolution, which nature has denied her but through his medium. Adieu.
New-York, March 22d, 1784.
My Aaron had scarce quitted the door when I regretted my passiveness. Why did I consent to his departure? Can interest repay the sacrifice? can aught on earth compensate for his presence? Why did I hesitate to decide? Ten thousand fears await me. What thought suggested my assent? The anxiety he might suffer were he to meet with obstacles to raising the sum required; should his views be frustrated for want of the precaution this journey might secure; his mortification; mine, at not having the power to relieve him, were arguments that silenced my longing wish to hold him near me; near me for ever. My Aaron, dark is the hour that separates my soul from itself.
Thus pensive, surrounded with gloom, thy Theo. sat, bewailing thy departure. Every breath of wind whistled terror; every noise at the door was mingled with hope of thy return, and fear of thy perseverance, when Brown arrived with the word—embarked—the wind high, the water rough. Heaven protect my Aaron; preserve him, restore him to his adoring mistress. A tedious hour elapsed, when our son was the joyful messenger of thy safe landing at Paulus Hook.
Stiff with cold, how must his papa have fared? Yet, grateful for his safety, I blessed my God. I envied the ground which bore my pilgrim. I pursued each footstep. Love engrossed his mind; his last adieu to Bartow was the most persuasive token—"Wait till I reach the opposite shore, that you may bear the glad tidings to your trembling mother." O, Aaron, how I thank thee! Love in all its delirium hovers about me; like opium, it lulls me to soft repose! Sweet serenity speaks, 'tis my Aaron's spirit presides. Surrounding objects check my visionary charm. I fly to my room and give the day to thee.
Albany, October 29th, 1784.
Mr. Watts this instant acquaints me that he is just setting off for New-York. I run from court to waft you a memorandum of affection. I have been remarkably well; was fortunate in my journey. The trial of Livingston and Hoffman is now arguing. It began on Thursday of last week, and will not conclude till to-night. No other business has been or will be done this term. All this cursed long absence for nothing.
I cannot leave this till Sunday or Monday. Then to Westchester Court. The return to joy and Theo. cannot be till Thursday or Friday, and that depending on my business in Westchester. Miss Yates is on her passage to New-York to spend eight or ten days.
I read your memorandum ten times a day, and observed it as religiously as ever monk did his devotion. Yesterday I burnt it. To me it seemed like sacrilege.
I fear I did not caution you enough against sleeping in the new house. For Heaven's sake (or rather for my sake), don't think of it till I come and judge. I left you an immensity of trouble, which I fear has not promoted your health. Kiss our dear little flock for me. Adieu.
Late in the autumn of 1783 Colonel Burr removed from Albany into the city of New-York. In the spring of 1784 he was elected a member of the state legislature. At that early period political parties had not assumed either form or shape. The simple and intelligible terms of whip and tory were universally used. Colonel Burr's mind was occupied with his professional business. The legislature met in the city of New-York. He attended two sessions as a member. The first commenced on the 12th of October, 1784. He was in the house only a small portion of the time, and never interfered in what might be considered the ordinary business of the day. On great questions he took an active and decided part. His character for sagacity, discrimination, and firmness, was well established; and he would, therefore, have possessed great influence, if such had been his object; but his ambition, at this time, was not political; or, if it was, he had determined to smother it "until a more convenient season."
The second session while he was a member commenced on the 27th of January, 1785. During this he was more attentive than at the preceding session, but governed by the same system of policy, acting only when great and important questions were under consideration. On the 14th of February a joint committee of the two houses was appointed to revise the laws of the state. Colonel Burr was chairman of the committee on the part of the house. He introduced, on leave granted him, several important bills. One in relation to the public lands, another relative to the titles to real estate, &c. On the 25th of February a bill was pending for the gradual abolition of slavery within the State of New-York. It provided that all born after its passage should be born free. Burr moved to amend, and proposed to insert a provision, that slavery should be entirely abolished after a day specified. His amendment being lost, he voted for the bill as reported. He was a member of the legislature, and supported the law in 1799, by which, ultimately, slavery within the state was abolished.
The question upon which he took the most prominent part related to an application of some tradesmen and mechanics in the city of New-York for an act of incorporation. The advocates of this bill had united their interest with certain land speculators, and by these means it was supposed both bills might be carried through the legislature. Both, however, failed. Colonel Burr was the only member from the city of New-York that opposed what was termed the Mechanics' Bill. His opposition produced so much feeling and excitement, that a man of less firmness would have been driven from his course. Riots were threatened, and by many it was supposed his house would be assaulted. His friends volunteered their services to protect him, but he declined receiving their aid, averring that he had no fears of any violation of the laws by men who had made such sacrifices as the whigs had made for the right of self-government, and that he could and would protect himself, if, contrary to his expectations, it should become necessary. That he was prepared to resist any attack was universally known, but none was attempted, and perhaps for that reason.
The Mechanics' Bill passed the legislature late in February, and was sent to the Council of Revision. At that time the chancellor and the judges of the Supreme Court formed a Council of Revision, and had a qualified negative on all bills. If they considered a bill unconstitutional, they returned it to the house in which it originated, with their objections; after which, if it received the vote of two thirds of both houses, it became a law. This bill was returned on the 9th of March by the council, with their objections, and, two thirds not voting in favour, it was lost. These objections, in substance, were precisely what had been urged against it by Colonel Burr on the floor of the assembly. The petitioners were forty-three in number. The bill gave them unlimited powers in some particulars. It did not incorporate their successors, only so far as they pleased to admit them. They might hold landed estate in perpetuity to an unlimited amount, provided theirincomedid exceed fifteen hundred pounds beyond theiroutgoings. Their by-laws were to be approved by the city corporation; thus, by rendering the one dependant on the other, either the mechanics would influence the magistrates, and the powers of the corporation of the city and county of New-York be made, at some future day, instruments of monopoly and oppression; or, which was more probable, the corporation of the city and county of New-York obtain a controlling power over the mechanics, and thus add to the extensive influence which that corporation already enjoyed, thereby rendering it dangerous to the political freedom of the people. Such were some of the objections entertained and urged by Colonel Burr against this bill. The great body of the community were prepared to sustain him; and, before the succeeding session of the legislature, the intelligent among the mechanics were so well satisfied with the correctness of his views, that a similar application was never afterward made,
From the year 1785 until the year 1788, Colonel Burr was unknown as a politician. His practice was extensive and lucrative. His domestic relations seemed to occupy all his leisure time. His family was large, and to direct the education of his children was to him the most delightful employment. His zeal for their improvement is evinced in some of the preceding letters. His own health was precarious, while that of Mrs. Burr caused him constant alarm and apprehension. He had but one child, a daughter; but the children of his wife by her first husband (Colonel Prevost) he reared as his own, and with all the tenderness of an affectionate father. The subjoined letters present Mrs. Burr in a most estimable point of view, while they cast some light upon Colonel Burr's character as a parent and a husband. They cannot be read, it is believed, by even the giddy and the thoughtless without feeling an interest in the destiny of their writers.
In the office of Colonel Burr, as students, were his two stepsons, Frederick and John Bartow. When absent from home on professional or other business, one of them frequently accompanied him as an amanuensis. On these occasions all his instructions in relation to lawsuits in which he was employed as counsel, or papers connected therewith, were communicated to the attorney or clerk in the office through Mrs. Burr. She appeared to be held responsible for the punctual and prompt performance of any duty required of them. To him she was indeed a helpmate; for she not only had charge of his domestic concerns, but was counselled with, and intimately associated in, all his business transactions.
Princeton, April, 1785.
I had just embarked in the stage at Paulus Hook when I learned that it went no further than Newark; so that, after being three hours close packed with rabble, I trudged an hour more to find a conveyance to Elizabethtown, where I arrived at eight o'clock, chilled, fatigued, and with a surly headache. A comfortable bed and tea made amends.
We arrived here at six o'clock this evening. I am fortunate in company, and find the travelling much less fatiguing than I imagined. Remind Frederick of the business with Platt. Write me by the nest post, and by every stage. If I should even have left Philadelphia, I shall meet the letters. Speak of Harriet, and sur tout des trois Theo's. Adieu.
Philadelphia, April, Saturday, 1785.
I did not write you on Friday, as promised in my letter from Princeton, for which I will apologize when we meet. I arrived here in good plight on Friday evening. Augustine came down about noon on Saturday. We have made some satisfactory progress in our business. Seeing the great men of other countries puts me in more conceit of those of my own.
I shall be released on Tuesday evening, which will permit me to see thee on Thursday morning. Mr. Colt will inform you about every thing. Unfortunately, a gentleman with whom part of our business is has left town. If he should return to-morrow morning, I shall be the happiest of swains on Wednesday morning. I am very minute in these calculations, because I make them very often. Does Theodosia employ herself ever in the same way?
I have been to twenty places to find something to please you, but can see nothing that answers my wishes; you will therefore, I fear, only receive
Your affectionate
New-York, April, Saturday, 1785.
I persuade myself this is the last day you spend in Philadelphia. That to-morrow's stage will bring you to Elizabethtown; that Tuesday morning you will breakfast with those who pass the tedious hours regretting your absence, and counting time till you return. Even little Theo. gives up her place on mamma's lap to tell dear papa—"come home." Tell Augustine he does not know how much he owes me. 'Tis a sacrifice I would not make to any human being but himself, nor even to him again. It is the last time of my life I submit to your absence, except from necessity to the calls of your profession. All is well at home. Ireson gone on his intended journey. Morris very little here. The boys very attentive and industrious; much more so for being alone. Not a loud word spoken by the servants. All, in silent expectation, await the return of their much-loved lord; butall faintlywhen compared to thy
Since writing to you last evening, every thing has conspired to harass and delay me. I was really in hopes of surprising you on Wednesday morning; but am now most unfortunately and cruelly detained here till to-morrow evening; shall therefore, with the usual luck of stages, embrace you on Thursday morning.
I have been walking, in the course of this day, hunting offices, records, &c., &c., above eight hours, and am not fatigued. I must really be very robust. Thine,
Albany, April, 1785.
I arrived here on Tuesday evening very late, though little fatigued. Wednesday afternoon I went with Sill to Bethlehem (Nichols), drank tea, supped, and breakfasted. I am pleased with our friend's choice, of which more next Tuesday evening. I am vexed you were not of my party here—that we did not charter a sloop. I have planned acircuitwith you to Long Island, with a number of pleasant &c.s, which are also reserved to a happier moment.
I shall succeed in all Mrs. Clarke's business except that of the lands, in which I hope little.
I feel impatient, and almost angry, that I have received no letter from you, though I really do not know of any opportunity by which you could have written; but it seems an endless while to wait till Saturday night before I can hear from you. How convenient would a little of the phlegm ofthis regionbe upon such occasions as these! I fear very much for our dear petite. I tell every one who asks me that both she and you are well, because I abhor the cold, uninterested inquiries, which I know would be made if I should answer otherwise. Do you want the pity of such? Those you thought your very good friends here have forgotten you.
Mademoiselle Y. is very civil. Are the Wadsworths with you? Have you not been tormented with some embarrassments which I wickedly left you to struggle with? I hope you don't believe the epithet. But why these questions, to which I can receive no answer but in person? I nevertheless fondly persuade myself that I shall receive answers to them all, and many more about yourself, which I have in mind, notwithstanding you will not have seen this. There is such a sympathy in our ideas and feelings, that you can't but know what will most interest me.
Give Johnstone the enclosed memorandum; or, if he has gone home, toBartow; the business is of importance, and admits of no delay.
Affectionately adieu,
Chester, Friday, May, 1785.
I arrived here about eleven o'clock this forenoon, with little fatigue, my horse being an excellent one. Appearances are hostile; they talk of twenty or twenty-five days at least. I believe I shall not hold out so long. The commissioners are met, but not all the parties, so that the business is not yet begun. The gentlemen from Albany are not yet arrived or heard of. We shall probably do nothing till they come. I have comfortable clean quarters.
Tell one of the boys to send me some supreme court seals; about six. Iforgot them. Write me what calls are made at the office for me.Distribute my love. Let each of the children write me what they do.You may certainly find some opportunity. Adieu.
Chester, May, 1785.
I strayed this morning for an hour or two in the woods, where I lay on a rock to enjoy the wild retreat. The cheerfullness of all around me led me to ask why all animated nature enjoyed its being but man? Why man alone is discontented, anxious—sacrificing the present to idle expectations;—expectations which, if answered, are in like manner sacrificed. Never enjoying, always hoping? Answer,tu mihi magna Apollo. I would moralize, but time—and my companions are coming in. Let me hear of your health. Avoid all fatigue. Judge Yates proposes to come down with me. Quoi faire?
My good landlady is out of tea, and begs me to send for a pound. Put it up very well. I am in better health than spirits. Adieu.
New-York, May, 1785.
I am vexed that I did not inquire your route more particularly. I cannot trace you in imagination, nor find your spirit when at rest; nor dare I count the hours to your return. They are still too numerous, and add to my impatience. I expect my reward in the health you acquire. If it should prove otherwise, how I shall hate my acquiescence to your departure. I anticipate good or evil as my spirits rise or fall; but I know no medium; my mind cannot reach that stage of indifference. I fancy all my actions directed by you; this tends to spur my industry, and give calm to my leisure.
The family as you left it. Bartow never quits the office, and is perfectly obliging. Your dear little daughter seeks you twenty times a day; calls you to your meals, and will not suffer your chair to be filled by any of the family.
Judge Hobart called here yesterday; says you are absent for a month. I do not admit that among possibilities, and therefore am not alarmed. I feel obliged to Mr. Wickham for his delay, though I dare not give scope to my pen; my heart dictates too freely. O, my Aaron! how many tender, grateful things rush to my mind in this moment; how much fortitude do I summon to suppress them! You will do justice to their silence; to the inexpressible affection of yourplus tendre amie.
Bartow has been to the surveyor-general; he cannot inform him the boundaries of those lots for J. W. There is no map of them but one in Albany.
Chester, May, 1785.
I joined the commissioners and parties in the woods, near this place, on Wednesday noon; found the weather severe, and roads bad. Have, since my arrival, been following the commissioners in their surveys. Nothing transpires from which we can conjecture their intentions.
This morning came your kind, your affectionate, your truly welcome letter of Monday evening. Where did it loiter so long? Nothing in my absence is so flattering to me as your health and cheerfullness. I then contemplate nothing so eagerly as my return; amuse myself with ideas of my own happiness, and dwell on the sweet domestic joys which I fancy prepared for me.
Nothing is so unfriendly to every species of enjoyment as melancholy. Gloom, however dressed, however caused, is incompatible with friendship. They cannot have place in the mind at the same time. It is the secret, the malignant foe of sentiment and love. Adieu.
New-York, May, 1785.
Your dear letter was handed me this day, at a moment which, if possible, increased its value. I have a little fever hanging about me, which tends to depress my spirits for the time. Your moralizing changed my dulness to a pleasing melancholy. I am mortified at the interruption it met, and impatient to renew the theme; to renew it in a more pleasing manner than even your letters afford. When my health is ill, I find your absence insupportable; every evil haunts me. It is the last that must take place till term;thatI must submit to. I am pleased with your account of your health and spirits; they are both as I wish.
When you write again, speak of your return. The uncertainty makes it more irksome. The company you speak of will be as welcome as any at this juncture; but my health and mind seem to require the calm recreation of friendly sympathy; the heart that has long been united to mine by the tenderest esteem and confidence, who has made every little anxiety its own, to whom I can speak without reserve every imaginary wo, and whose kind consolation shall appease those miseries nature has imposed. But whatever present inconveniences may arise, I submit to them with perfect resignation, rather than, even in idea, to expect the one mentioned by you when last at home. My mind is impressed with a perfect dread of all of that kind. We never can have one to give us so little trouble as E. W., and yet we found it great. We must avoid all such invitations, for the sacrifice on my part is too great.
Friday morning.
I have passed a most tedious night. I went to bed much indisposed. M. absent; mamma also. Ten thousand anxieties surrounded me till three, when I fell asleep; waked at six, much refreshed, and in better health than I could possibly have expected. I flatter myself your task will end sooner than you expected. Mr. Marvin calls for my letter this morning, which will be delivered with a pound of green tea I have purchased for your landlady at two dollars. He has called. I am hurried. Ten thousand loves
Toujours la vôtre.
Jane's in the Mountains, May, 1785.
I wrote my dear Theodosia a long letter of business and nonsense last evening from Chester. I am now about twelve miles nearer to you, and shall sleep to-night within thirty-five miles (only six hours' ride), and shall to-morrow return surlily to Chester.
Our cavalcade is most fortunately composed. Some who abhor fatigue, others who admire good fare, by which by which combination we ride slow and live well. We have halted here half an hour to lounge and take a luncheon. Of the last, I partook reasonably. The time which others devote to the former, I devote (of right) to you, and thus lounge with peculiar glee.
By return of Mr. Smith (who is obliging enough to deliver this), I expect much longer letters from our lazy flock. By the next opportunity I determine not to write you, but some others who deserve more attention than I fear they will think I mean to give them.
The girls must give me a history of their time, from rising to night. The boys any thing which interests them, and which, of course, will interest me. Are there any, or very pressing calls at the office? The word is given to mount. I shall have time to seal this and overtake them. Kiss for me those who love me.
New-York, April, 1785.
Mrs. Wickham just called to tell me of an opportunity to Chester. How joyfully I embrace it. I had a most insupportable impatience to communicate to you my gratitude and thanks for your last visit. It was a cordial to my health and spirits; a balm to my soul. My mind is flushed with pleasing hopes. Ten thousand tender thoughts rush to my pen; but the bearer may prove faithless. I will suppress them to a happier moment, and anticipate the dear indulgence.
The family as you left it. Thy Theodosia's health and spirits increase daily. Bartow's industry and utility are striking to the family and strangers. Johnstone returned yesterday. Your letter was as eagerly read as though I had not seen you. Write when you have leisure; if it does not reach me immediately, it will serve to divert some tedious moment in a future absence; even when you are at home, engrossed by business, I frequently find a singular pleasure in perusing those testimonies of affection.
I find I am continually speaking of myself. I can only account for it from my Aaron having persuaded me 'tis his favourite subject, and the extreme desire I have to please him induces me to pursue it. I take no walks but up one stairs and down the other. The situation of my house will not admit of my seeing many visitors. I hope some arrangement will be accomplished by the next week.
A packet from Sill. He writes like a happy man—not the happy man of a day, or I am much deceived in him. She is certainly to be ranked among the fortunate. I wish she may be sensible of her lot.
I have fixed the time of seeing you. Till Saturday I will hope the best. I cannot extend my calculations beyond it; four days of your absence is an age to come. My compliments to your chum, and who else you please.Pense avec tendresse de la vôtre.
Chester, May 12, 1785.
Nothing could be more welcome than your affectionate letters by Mr. Wickham. They met me on Tuesday evening, on our return from a tour through the mountains. I was for some hours transported home, to partake of that domestic tranquillity which you so feelingly paint. Continue to write if opportunity presents. They will cheer me in these rustic regions. If not, they will not be lost.
This being a rainy day, we have kept within doors. Tomorrow, if fair, we resume the business of climbing mountains, which will probably be our employment till about the middle of next week. After which a week more (at most) will finish the controversy.
Pay Moore nothing till I return, unless you see cause. Let him rough-cast, if he is confident of succeeding; but tell him I will not pay him till I am convinced it will bear weather, and last.
If the sheriff of Bergen (Dey) calls for his money, I enclose a note with a blank for the name. You must speak to either Malcom or Lente for their assistance, unless you can think of something more convenient, putting the matter in such light as your address shall think proper. If for any reasons you should prefer to make use of Popham's name, do it. The person whose name is put in the note must endorse it, and the note be dated. Let one of the boys go over to Mrs. Baldwin for the certificate of the balance of the account, which, if obtained, a deduction must be made accordingly. Perhaps, by paying three or four hundred pounds, Mr. Morris will consent to wait my return. Perhaps, at your instance, he will wait that time without any payment. All which is humbly submitted. I enclose two notes, that you may take your choice.
Mr. Watrous's business respecting the land is not very material. If it should have failed, you may inform him that I have long since filed a caveat which will cover his claim.
I bear the fatigues of our business to admiration. Have great appetite, and sleep sound about ten hours a night. I am already as black as a Shawanese. You will scarce know me if I continue this business a few days longer. Thank our dear children for their kind letters. But they are so afraid of tiring either me or themselves (I suspect the latter), that they tell me few, very few, of those interesting trifles which I want to know.
Let T. give them any new steps he pleases, but not one before the others. If any one is behind or less apt, more pains must be taken to keep them on a par. This I give in charge to you.
I fear you flatter me with respect to your health. You seem a little studied on that score, which is not very natural to you when speaking truth. But, if it is not true, it is surely your own fault. Go to bed early, and do not fatigue your self with running about house. And upon no account any long walks, of which you are so fond, and for which you are so unfit. Simple diet will suit you best. Restrain all gout for intemperance till some future time not very distant.
I do notnor canpromise myself all you promise me with respect to the children. I have been too much mortified on that subject to remove it at once.
This is the last expedition of the kind I shall ever undertake; and ever since I have been here I have been planning ways to extricate myself from it, but am defeated, and shall be absolutely detained prisoner till the business is concluded. Johnstone can give you an account of my quarters and mode of life. You haunt me daily more and more. I really fear I shall do little justice to the business which brought me here.
The children must pardon my not writing. I have a number of memorandums of business to make out for Johnstone. Thank them again for their letters, and beg them not to be so churlish.
Let one of the boys haunt Moore. But you surely can do it without letting him vex you, even supposing he does nothing. I had much rather that should be the case than that you should be one minute out of humour with him.
The girls must go on with Tetard in his own way till I come, when I will set all right.
It is already late. I must be up at sunrise. Bon soir, ma chère amie.