I was not at Rariton when the doctor, who was the bearer of your letter, passed that way. It would have given me pleasure to have shown him every mark of attention and esteem in my power.
I dare say you count it an age since I have written you; and, indeed, I must confess that the time has been long. Your good-nature, however, will induce you to forgive me, although I cannot expect it from your justice. I hope the water you drink will prove medicinal, and soon restore you to health; although I am more disposed to think that it will take time, and be effected gradually. Persons indisposed (I speak from experience) are generally impatient to become well, and that very impatience has a natural tendency to prevent it. Do not be restless, my dear Burr; nor think that, because you do not get well in a month, or in a season, you will not get well at all. The heat of this summer has been intense, nor is it as yet much abated. Perhaps that too may have had some effect upon you. The hale and hearty could scarcely bear up under it. May health soon visit you, my good friend.
Mrs. Paterson is well. Our little pledge, a girl, Burr, [1] has been much indisposed, but is at present on the mending hand. I am from home as usual. My official duty obliges me to be so. I grow quite uneasy under it, and I find ease and retirement necessary for the sake of my constitution, which has been somewhat broken in upon by unceasing attention to business. The business has been too much for me. I have always been fond of solitude, and, as it were, of stealing along through life. I am now sufficiently fond of domestic life. I have every reason to be so. Indeed, I know no happiness but at home. Such one day will be your situation.
My compliments to the family at the Hermitage. I shall write you before I leave this place.
Yours, &c.
WILLIAM PATERSON.
FROM WILLIAM PATERSON.
Morristown, 31st August, 1780.
MY DEAR BURR,
It is now near the midnight hour, and yet, late as it is, I could not acquit myself to my conscience if I had not again written you before I left this place, which will be early tomorrow. My life is quite in the militant style—one continued scene of warfare. From this place I go down to the Supreme Court at Trenton, which will be on Tuesday next, and the Tuesday after that I shall return once more to Morristown, and when I shall leave it will be uncertain. I rejoice when the hour of rest comes up, and sicken at the approach of day. Business fairly bears me down. The truth is, that I am tired of writing, tired of reading, tired of bustling in a crowd, and, by fits, heartily tired of myself.
I hope you go on gaining strength, and that you will in a little while get the better of your disorder. The mind and the body affect each other extremely. To a person in your state, hilarity, cheerfullness, a serene flow of spirits, are better than all the drugs in a doctor's shop. Gentle exercise is of infinite service. I hope you are not wanting in any of these. If you are, I cannot easily pardon you, because they are all within your power.
Make my compliments acceptable to the family at the Hermitage. I have a high regard for them, and sincerely wish their happiness. I really pity and admire Mrs. Prevost. Her situation demands a tear; her conduct and demeanour the warmest applause. Tell Mrs. Prevost that she must remember me among her friends; and that I shall be happy to render her all the service in my power.
Since I have been at this place I have had a letter from Mrs. Paterson, who is well. Our little girl, who was indisposed when I left home, is not worse. I flatter myself I shall find her better when I return. Alas, that I cannot be more at home. A husband and a parent have a thousand tendernesses that you know nothing of. Adieu, my dear Burr; live and be happy.
WILLIAM PATERSON.
FROM COLONEL TROUP.
Morristown, October 23d, 1780.
MY DEAREST FRIEND,
I want words to express the pleasure I feel at the receipt of yours of the 22d, by the boy who came for your horse. It relieved me from a burden which had sunk my spirits lower than I recollect them to have been by any calamity I have met with during the war. My imagination had crowded my mind with a thousand melancholy reflections from the moment I got your letter by Dr. Cutting, who, like a modern well-bred gentleman, left it at my lodgings only three days ago. Some evil genius certainly interrupts our correspondence. I write letters without number, and yet you seldom hear from me, and when you do, the letter is as old as if it had come from the other side of the Atlantic. It is exactly the case with yours.
Mr. Paterson has been more unfortunate than I. He has often complained of your neglect, as he thought it; but I informed him of the fate my letters shared, and he was easy. However, he desired me last night to give you a hint, that he had lately written you several long letters without receiving an answer to either. He is now at Princeton, attending court. I shall forward your letter that accompanied mine to him by a safe conveyance. Paterson really loves you with the tenderest affection, and can scarcely speak of your state of health without shedding a friendly tear. As God is my judge, I could not forbear shedding several when I read yours by Dr. Cutting, which is the first I have had from you in near five weeks. I was afraid all farther attempts to recover your health, so as to qualify you to execute our plan, would be fruitless. In short, I thought you on the brink of eternity, ready to take your final farewell of this wrangling world. The critical situation of your sister increased my distress, and extinguished every hope. How much more happy should I be if your sister's health took the same fortunate turn. Your ride to Litchfield must be doubly agreeable, as it will tend to establish your health and better hers.
I must now communicate to you a disagreeable piece of news respecting myself. It shows how rare it is to find a man of real disinterested benevolence. Sears and Broome, I understand by Mr. Noel, who returned from Philadelphia a few days ago, have protested the bill I drew upon them last summer. Colonel Palfrey bought it, and has it returned to him, for what reasons I cannot say positively, but I suspect they are determined not to assist me, although they were lavish of their offers when they supposed I never would be reduced to the necessity of accepting them. Such conduct is characteristic of excessive meanness of spirit, and I confess I am deceived in my opinion of them most egregiously. True it is, that instances of this kind of behaviour often occur in our intercourse with mankind; but, from the fortunes these men have made since the war, and the frequent reports of their generosity, I was led to imagine there was something more than mere idle compliment and ostentatious parade in their offers. I was deceived, and I hope it will be the last time. This affair has wounded my pride so sensibly, that I shall be extremely cautious in future. I must and will endeavour to adopt some mode of drawing supplies from my certificates, which will be three years old next spring, and therefore ought to be taken up by Congress By the table of depreciation published by Congress to regulate the payment of the principal of their certificates, I am entitled to three hundred and fifty pounds, at the very lowest calculation, and this sum in specie.
When you come here you must exert all your abilities in finance, to make me no longer dependant upon the bounty of friends; or rather, I should say, your bounty, for you are the only person I have borrowed money of. Till that time, my dear friend, can you keep me above water, and do justice to yourself? Will you be able to extricate me from the difficulties attending this bill? In plain terms, can you spare me the amount of it? My reputation suffers by having the bill protested, and I must, in a short time, send the money to Colonel Palfrey, for I am persuaded I have no farther ground to expect the least assistance from Sears and Broome. Fail not, by any means, to write me on this subject before you leave Paramus, and be careful how you send the letter.
There is nothing but your health and my poverty that retards my progress in study. They are fruitful sources of disquietude. When I lay me down to sleep, they often prevent me from closing my eyes. When I look into a book, they present a variety of melancholy images to my imagination, and unfit me for improvement In all other respects I am situated to my wishes: Paterson treats me as a bosom friend. He has gone so far as to press me in the warmest terms to command his purse. How I shall be able to requite your friendship is a matter beyond my penetration. I declare, before the Searcher of all hearts, that I consider your happiness and welfare as inseparable from my own, and that no vicissitudes of fortune, however prosperous or calamitous they may be, will ever tear you from my heart. Circumstanced as I now am, words are the only proofs I can give you of my gratitude and affection. Time will prove whether they are the cant of hypocrisy or the language of esteem.
I lent your horse to Mrs. Paterson about a week ago, to carry her to Elizabethtown to see her brother, who was to meet her there from New-York; and disappointments in not seeing him, from day to day, have detained her much longer than was expected, and it is probable that she will not return until Thursday next; I have therefore sent the boy down to Elizabethtown, or, more properly, shall send him in the morning, with Mr. Noel's horse, which will answer full as well in the wagon. This change will produce no inconvenience at all, and is better than to detain the boy till Mrs. Paterson returns. She was exceedingly well when she left home, and so was her little girl, which is handsome, good-tempered, fat, and hearty. I am very particular in presenting her your respects, and she is as particular in inquiring about you.
Bring all the French books you can from Connecticut, particularly Chambaud's Exercises, and all the other elementary books you have. I should be fond of having the perusal of Rousseau's Social Compact, if you can borrow it of Mrs. Prevost for me. I am quite rusty in the French, for I have neglected it totally for two or three months. The business of the office has engrossed so much of my attention, that I have not lately read any other book but Blackstone. I am still in the third volume. I digest thoroughly as I advance. I have unravelled all the difficulties of the practice, and can do common business with tolerable dexterity.
The horse will be delivered to you without a saddle. Gales, a young fellow who was studying with Mr. Paterson, requested me to lend it to him to ride as far as Newark last August, and he ran off to New-York, and I never could get the saddle again. This piece of villany I could not foresee, and it surprised almost as much as Arnold's. The grass has been very short, and I fancy the horse will be leaner than you expect. He is a most excellent saddle-horse.
I am extremely sorry to hear Mrs. Prevost and her sister are unwell. Remember me to them in the most friendly manner. Give my compliments also to Dr. Latimer, and all friends in the army near you. Don't forget Mrs. De Visme, the children, Dom. Tetard, and the family on the hill, although I hear they are strongly prejudiced against me. Mrs. Judith Watkins, as you well know, has spoken maliciously. She is far from being your friend. Every thing that passed one day at dinner in confidence respecting our reception at her house, has been told to her and her husband, with no small exaggerations, by some person of the company. Governor Bill Livingston related some particulars that astonished me, and added, that he and Mr. and Mrs. Watkins thought it cruel in you to put such an unfair construction upon Watkins's behaviour to us. All this talk is beneath our notice. What I said to Bill was sufficient to erase any unfavourable impression from a candid mind. If it has not produced that effect, any further attempt to refute the calumny will only serve to confirm it.
Mrs. P. Livingston is here, and desires her respects to you. She was glad to hear of the prospect you have of growing hearty. She is an amiable woman, and loves you. Your friend,
ROBERT TROUP.
The preceding correspondence contains in itself a tolerable history of Colonel Burr's situation and employment from the summer of 1779 until the autumn of 1780. After retiring from the army, he suffered most severely from ill health—that ill health was, in a great degree, produced by the fatigues and exposure on the 27th and 28th of June, 1779, at the battle of Monmouth. His constitution was feeble, and had been shattered by his unparalleled vigilance in the winter of 1778-79, while commanding the advanced post in Westchester. But the battle of Monmouth seemed to have given it the finishing stroke.
The letters of Judge Paterson and Colonel Troup afford the best evidence of his ill health, and of their affectionate devotion to him as friends. They are given at some length, because they present rare and extraordinary examples of fidelity in friendship. Both these gentlemen preceded Colonel Burr to the tomb. Both continued to respect, to esteem, and to love him, to their last hour. Their character requires no panegyric. Colonel Troup lived until the year 1832. In manhood, for more than half a century, he venerated Colonel Burr for his genius, his talents, his chivalry, his intrepidity of character, his disinterestedness, his generosity. He deplored his weaknesses, and abhorred his vices. But when he viewed the whole man, from youth to more than threescore and ten years, he loved and respected him. Both these distinguished citizens, as politicians, were opposed to Colonel Burr from the year 1788 until the close of their lives.
In the autumn of 1780, Colonel Burr commenced the study of law with Judge Paterson, who resided at that time on the Rariton, about twenty miles from Brunswick, in New-Jersey. Here he remained till the spring of 1781. The judge was a man governed by fixed and settled rules. In the application of these rules Colonel Burr found that his study of the law would require much more time to prepare him for an examination than he was willing to devote. He concluded that there must be a shorter mode to get at the mechanical or practical part; and, having determined to make the experiment, he left the office of Judge Paterson.
From New-Jersey, in the spring of 1781, he removed to Haverstraw, then in Orange county, State of New-York. Residing at this place was Thomas Smith, Esq., formerly of the city of New-York, and brother to William Smith, the king's attorney-general. Thomas Smith had a good law library, which had been removed from the city into the Highlands for safety. With Smith, Colonel Burr made an arrangement to study on a plan of his own. By the contract, for a specified sum to be paid, Smith was to devote certain portions of his time to Burr. At these interviews, he was to answer such questions as Burr propounded. The answers were taken down in writing, and formed the basis of additional interrogatories; while, at the same time, they aided in directing his attention to those legal points or authorities which were necessary for him to examine or read. During the time he remained at Haverstraw, he studied from sixteen to twenty hours a day.
In the summer of 1780, Major Andre, of the British army, was in correspondence with Mrs. Arnold (the wife of General Arnold), under a pretext of supplying her, from the city of New-York, with millinery and other trifling articles of dress. On the 23d of September, 1780, Major Andre was captured, and the treason of the general discovered. When this news reached West Point, Mrs. Arnold became, apparently, almost frantic. Her situation excited the sympathy of some of the most distinguished officers in the American army. Mrs. Arnold, having obtained from General Washington a passport, and permission to join her husband in the city of New-York, left West Point, and on her way stopped at the house of Mrs. Prevost, in Paramus, where she stayed one night. On her arrival at Paramus the frantic scenes of West Point were renewed, and continued so long as strangers were present. Mrs. Prevost was known as the wife of a British officer, and connected with the royalists. In her, therefore, Mrs. Arnold could confide.
As soon as they were left alone Mrs. Arnold became tranquillized, and assured Mrs. Prevost that she was heartily sick of the theatrics she was exhibiting. She stated that she had corresponded with the British commander—that she was disgusted with the American cause and those who had the management of public affairs—and that, through great persuasion and unceasing perseverance, she had ultimately brought the general into an arrangement to surrender West Point to the British. Mrs. Arnold was a gay, accomplished, artful, and extravagant woman. There is no doubt, therefore, that, for the purpose of acquiring the means of gratifying an inordinate vanity, she contributed greatly to the utter ruin of her husband, and thus doomed to everlasting infamy and disgrace all the fame he had acquired as a gallant soldier at the sacrifice of his blood. Mrs. Prevost subsequently became the wife of Colonel Burr, and repeated to him these confessions of Mrs. Arnold.
The preceding statement is confirmed by the following anecdote. Mrs. Arnold was the daughter of Chief-justice Shippen, of Pennsylvania. She was personally acquainted with Major Andre, and, it is believed, corresponded with him previous to her marriage. In the year 1779-80, Colonel Robert Morris resided at Springatsbury, in the vicinity of Philadelphia, adjoining Bush Hill. Some time previous to Arnold's taking command of West Point, he was an applicant for the post. On a particular occasion Mrs. Arnold was dining at the house of Colonel Morris. After dinner, a friend of the family came in, and congratulated Mrs. Arnold on a report that her husband was appointed to a different, but more honourable command. The information affected her so much as to produce hysteric fits. Efforts were made to convince her that the general had been selected for a preferable station. These explanations, however, to the astonishment of all present, produced no effect. But, after the treason of Arnold was discovered, the family of Colonel Morris entertained no doubt that Mrs. Arnold was privy to, if not the negotiator for, a surrender of West Point to the British, even before the general had charge of the post.
In the autumn of 1781 Colonel Burr left Haverstraw and went to Albany, with a determination to make an effort to be admitted to the bar. He continued his studies with the most untiring industry. He had his own apartments and his own library, sleeping, when he did sleep, in a blanket on the floor.
Colonel Burr's liberality in pecuniary matters had tended to impair his private fortune. No man possessed a more benevolent heart. The following letter presents one case out of many which might be enumerated, evincing his generosity, and the delicate manner in which he could confer a favour. Major Alden had become embarrassed in his circumstances, and was greatly at a loss for a profession, at the approaching close of the war, by which he might acquire a decent support. These reflections rendered him gloomy and desponding. At length he unbosomed himself to Colonel Burr, who thus replies to his letter:—
TO MAJOR R. ALDEN.
Rariton, February 15th, 1781.
DEAR SIR,
If it will solace your woes to know there is a heart that feels them as its own, that heart is mine. The thwarts of delicacy, which you would exclude from the catalogues of distress, are certainly the keenest humanity can feel. I know their force. I have felt them in all their pungency.
A want of uniformity in the mode and object of my pursuit has been long my misfortune, and has, I fear, been yours. There is a persevering firmness that will conquer embarrassment, and, aided with the secret smile of an approving conscience, cannot fail to put us above the power of adversity. Thus "we shall shun misfortunes, or shall learn to bear them."
I have ever found the moment of indecision to be the moment of completest anguish. When our resolutions are taken with determined firmness, they engross the mind and close the void of misery. Yes, my friend, save the pang of sympathy, I am happy. These are my halcyon days. Let us taste them together. We shall mutually heighten their relish. Let us rescue some moments of rational enjoyment from the wreck of impetuous time. Friendship shall smooth the rugged path of science, and virtue cheer the way.
If law is your object, this situation is favourable to the pursuit. You shall have access to the library and office, without the customary expense. Your ostensible reason for coming here shall be to pursue your studies with me, under my friend Mr. Paterson. The two boys [2] I wish you to instruct are of the sweetest tempers and the softest hearts. A frown is the severest punishment they ever need. Four hours a day will, I think, be fully sufficient for their instruction. There are hours enough left for study—as many as any one can improve to advantage; and these four will be fully made up to you by the assistance you will derive from such of us as have already made some small progress.
If it is possible, we live together. At any rate, you shall live near me; we shall at least meet every day, or oftener, if we please. Nothing will interrupt us. We will regulate our own amusements and pursuits. Here are no expensive diversions of any kind. Your salary shall be a genteel maintenance in such a situation. You shall have sixty pounds, New-York currency, which is more than I expend here. You will find it impossible to spend a farthing except board and clothing. If, from this short sketch, you think the situation adapted to your views, of which I feel a pleasing assurance, acquaint me immediately, that I may prepare for your reception.
I purpose bringing the boys here the beginning of April. Be here by that time, if possible. Get Mr. Thaddeus Burr to enclose your letter to Loudon the printer, who will be careful to forward it to me. How could I write to you How divine your residence? Never again harbour, for a moment, a surmise that derogates from my sincerity.
My health is nearly established. I have not enough to despise the blessing, but enough to relish every enjoyment of life. Adieu, my friend; may that cheerfullness of which you have been robbed return, and be as permanent as your merit or my affection.
A. BURR.
FROM THOMAS SMITH.
Haverstraw, 1st March, 1781.
DEAR SIR,
The preparations at New-York look this way, and that inclines me to seek an asylum in New-Jersey, any part of which I believe will be safe, if Hudson's river is the object of the enemy. If I could get Mrs. De Visme's place, it would be most agreeable to Mrs. Smith. A few weeks will determine me, and then I shall be in a situation to give you and Colonel Troup every assistance in my power. As it is your object to fit yourselves as soon as possible for admission to the bar, without submitting to the drudgery of an attorney's office, in which the advancement of the student is but too often a secondary consideration, I should cheerfully devote a sufficient part of my time to lead you through the practice of the law in all its parts; and make no doubt, with close application on your part, I should be able in a short time to introduce you to the bar, well qualified to discharge the duties of the profession, with honour to yourselves, and safety to your clients.
My library is now in a situation to be removed. Two boxes are missing, and I fear have fallen a sacrifice to the liberty of the times. I only wait till the roads will permit me to remove the remainder down, as I think my books by no means safe where they now are, if the forts should be attacked.
Your obedient servant,
THOMAS SMITH.
At this period Colonel Burr was closely engaged in his studies. His constitution was somewhat renovated. His correspondence now became limited, and was principally confined to Mrs. Prevost. Here again the peculiarity already referred to was in full operation. The greater part of this correspondence is in cipher. But portions of it that are not thus written are highly interesting, and give evidence that Mrs. Prevost possessed a cultivated mind. Her health was very feeble, and continued so, after she became the wife of Colonel Burr, until her decease. Some extracts from her letters will be given.
FROM MRS. PREVOST.
Litchfeld, February 12th, 1781
I am happy that there is a post established for the winter. I shall expect to hear from you every week. My ill health will not permit me to return your punctuality. You must be contented with hearing once a fortnight.
Your opinion of Voltaire pleases me, as it proves your judgment above being biased by the prejudices of others. The English, from national jealousy and enmity to the French, detract him. Divines, with more justice, as he exposes himself to their censure. It is even their duty to contemn his tenets; but, without being his disciple, we may do justice to his merit, and admire him as a judicious, ingenious author.
I will not say the same of your system of education. Rousseau has completed his work. The indulgence you applaud in Chesterfield is the only part of his writings I think reprehensible. Such lessons from so able a pen are dangerous to a young mind, and ought never to be read till the judgment and heart are established in virtue. If Rousseau's ghost can reach this quarter of the globe, he will certainly haunt you for this scheme—'tis striking at the root of his design, and destroying the main purport of his admirable production. Les foiblesses de l'humanitÉ, is an easy apology; or rather, a license to practise intemperance; and is particularly agreeable and flattering to such practitioners, as it brings the most virtuous on a level with the vicious. But I am fully of opinion that it is a much greater chimera than the world are willing to acknowledge. Virtue, like religion, degenerates to nothing, because it is convenient to neglect her precepts. You have, undoubtedly, a mind superior to the contagion.
When all the world turn envoys, Chesterfield will be their proper guide. Morality and virtue are not necessary qualifications—those only are to be attended to that tend to the public weal. But when parents have no ambitious views, or rather, when they are of the more exalted kind, when they wish to form a happy, respectable member of society—a firm, pleasing support to their declining life, Emilius shall be the model. A man so formed must be approved by his Creator, and more useful to mankind than ten thousand modern beaux.
If the person whose kind partiality you mention is Paterson, I confess myself exceedingly flattered, as I entertain the highest opinion of the perspicuity of his judgment. Say all the civil things you please for his solicitous attention to my health. But if it should be Troup, which I think more probable, assure him of my most permanent gratitude.
Affectionately,
THEODOSIA PREVOST.
FROM MRS. THEODOSIA PREVOST.
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,
THEODOSIA PREVOST.
FROM MRS. THEODOSIA PREVOST.
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 of this, 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 support to, and the only security for, 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,
THEODOSIA PREVOST.
FROM MRS. THEODOSIA PREVOST.
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.
THEODOSIA PREVOST.
FROM MAJOR R. ALDEN.
Fairfield, 26th February, 1781.
DEAR BURR,
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,
R. ALDEN.
TO MRS. PREVOST.
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,
A. BURR.
TO CHIEF-JUSTICE MORRIS.
Albany, 21st October, 1781.
SIR,
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 injure one 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,
A. BURR.
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 and comfort, and they may be moved anywhere. If you have fears about brat, [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 by Ll., 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.
A. BURR.
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.
