Memoirs of Aaron Burr Part 37

I am vexed with my last letter to you; 'tis impossible for me to disguise a single feeling or thought when I am writing or conversing with the friend of my heart. I hope you have attended only to the last paragraph, and avoided all unnecessary anxiety for her who wishes to be a constant source of pleasure to thee. I have been in good health since Sat.u.r.day morning. Since yesterday, unusually gay and happy; antic.i.p.ating a thousand pleasures, studying every little arrangement that can contribute to thy comfort. This wet weather is a bar to any essential progress. The walls are still too damp to admit of either paint or paper. I have a bed ready for the judge; _ne vous genez pas la-dessus_. I am afraid some foolish reflections in my last will embarra.s.s you. Your affection and tenderness has put them to flight.

"Let nothing mar the promised bliss." Thy Theo. waits with inexpressible impatience to welcome the return of her truly beloved.

Every domestic joy shall decorate his mansion. When Aaron smiles, shall Theo. frown? Forbid it every guardian power.

Le Jeune perplexes me no longer. I am provoked with myself for having repeated it to you. Your dear little Theo. grows the most engaging child you ever saw. She frequently talks of, and calls on, her dear papa. It is impossible to see her with indifference. All moves as you wish it. All count the pa.s.sing hours till thy return. Remember, I am in good health and spirits; that I expect the same account of yours.

To think of me affectionately is my first command; to write me so, the second. Hasten to share the happiness of thy much loved and much loving

THEODOSIA.

FROM MRS. BURR.

New-York, August 28th, 1785.

The enclosed was to have gone yesterday, but the intended bearer disappointed me. Young ---- and his companions have just left us; at tasting your Madeira he p.r.o.nounced you a d----d clever fellow. Your merit increased with the number of gla.s.ses; they went away in good-humour with themselves and the hostess. O my love, how earnestly I pray that our children may never be driven from your paternal direction. Had you been at home to-day, you would have felt as fervent in this prayer as your Theo. Our children were impressed with utter contempt for their guest. This gave me real satisfaction.

I really believe, my dear, few parents can boast of children whose minds are so p.r.o.ne to virtue. I see the reward of our a.s.siduity with inexpressible delight, with a grat.i.tude few experience. My Aaron, they have grateful hearts; some circ.u.mstances prove it, which I shall relate to you with singular pleasure at your return. I pity A. C. from my heart. She will feel the folly of an over zeal to acc.u.mulate.

Bartow's a.s.siduity and faithfullness is beyond description. My health is not worse. I have been disappointed in a horse; shall have Pharaoh to-morrow. Frederick is particularly attentive to my health; indeed, none of them are deficient in tenderness. All truly anxious for papa's return; we fix Tuesday, beyond a doubt, but hope impossibilities.

I had a thousand things to write, but the idea of seeing you banishes every other thought. I fear much the violent exertions you are obliged to make will injure your health. Remember how dear, how important it is to the repose, to the life of

THEODOSIA.

FROM MRS. BURR.

New-York, August 29th, 1785.

As soon as Tuesday evening came, I sent repeated messages to Cape's, who persevered in the answer of there being no letter. I slept ill; found my health much worse in the morning; rode out; in spite of exercise, continued ill till your dear letter was handed me. I immediately called for refreshment, and imagined I had recovered my health; my sensations still tell me so. Ten thousand thanks for the best prescription that ever physician invented. I ride daily; breakfasted with Clem. Clarke this morning, who has scarce a trait of himself. He neither knows nor cares for anybody but his son, who is three years and a half old, fair hair, but not handsome; much humoured; is introduced as a pet of the first value. Aunt more in temper than was expected. He dines here to-morrow with the two Blakes.

I felt no other compulse to notice them than your wish.

Our little daughter's health has improved beyond my expectations. Your dear Theodosia cannot hear you spoken of without an apparent melancholy; insomuch that her nurse is obliged to exert her invention to divert her, and myself avoid to mention you in her presence. She was one whole day indifferent to every thing but your name. Her attachment is not of a common nature; though this was my opinion, I avoided the remark, when Mr. Grant observed it to me as a singular instance.

You see I have followed your example in speaking first of myself. I esteemed it a real trait of your affection, a sympathy in the feelings, the anxiety of your Theo., who had every fear for your health; more than you would allow her to express.

The garden wall is begun. I fear the front pavement will not answer your intention. I write you again tomorrow. Much love awaits thee.

Thine, unchangeably,

THEODOSIA BURR.

FROM MRS. BURR.

New-York, 25th September, 1785.

Your dear letter of Sat.u.r.day morning has just reached me. I was relieved, delighted, till the recollection of the storm you have since weathered took place. How have you borne it? Ten thousand fears alarm me. I pursued thee yesterday, through wind and rain, till eve, when, fatigued, exhausted, shivering, thou didst reach thy haven, surrounded with inattention, thy Theo. from thee. Thus agitated, I laid my head upon a restless pillow, turning from side to side, when thy kindred spirit found its mate. I beheld my much-loved Aaron, his tender eyes fixed kindly on me; they spake a body wearied, wishing repose, but not sick. This soothed my troubled spirit: I slept tolerably, but dare not trust too confidently. I hasten to my friend to realize the delightful vision; naught but thy voice can tranquillize my mind. Thou art the constant subject of love, hope, and fear. The girls bewail the sufferings of their dear papa; the boys wish themselves in his place; Frederick frets at the badness of the horse; wishes money could put him in thy stead. The unaffected warmth of his heart delights me. If aught can alleviate thy absence, 'tis these testimonies of grat.i.tude and affection from the young and guileless to the best of parents.

They feel the hand that blesses them, and love because they are blessed. Thy orders shall be attended to. Mamma joins in the warmest a.s.surances of sincere affection. Theodosia and Sally in perfect health. Beyond expression,

Yours,

THEODOSIA BURR.

FROM MRS. BURR.

New-York, 27th September, 1785.

I have counted the hours till evening; since that, the minutes, and am still on the watch; the stage not arrived: it is a cruel delay. Your health, your tender frame, how are they supported! Anxiety obliterates every other idea; every noise stops my pen; my heart flutters with hope and fear; the pavement from this to Cape's [4] is kept warm by the family; every eye and ear engrossed by expectation; my mind is in too much trepidation to write. I resume my pen after another messenger, in vain. I will try to tell you that those you love are well; that the boys are very diligent; Ireson gone to Westchester. My new medicine will, I flatter myself, prove a lucky one. Sally amazingly increased. Fream at work at the roof. He thinks it too flat to be secured. The back walls of the house struck through with the late rain. M.Y. still at Miss W. You must not expect to find dancing on Thursday night. I should think it a degree of presumption to make the necessary preparations without knowing the state of your health.

Should this account prove favourable, I still think it best to delay it, as the stage is very irregular in its return. That of Sat.u.r.day did not arrive till Sunday morning; it brought an unfavourable account of the roads. Thus you probably would not partake, nor would I wish spectators to check my vigilance, or divide that attention which is ever insufficient when thou art the object. O, my Aaron, how impatient I am to welcome thy return; to antic.i.p.ate thy will, and receive thy loved commands. The clock strikes eleven. No stage. My letter must go.

I have been three hours writing, or attempting to write, this imperfect scrawl. The children desire me to speak their affection.

Mamma will not be forgot; she especially shares my anxiousness. Adieu.

THEODOSIA BURR

TO MRS. BURR.

Albany, October 30th, 1785. I have received your two affectionate letters. The enclosed was intended to have been sent by the stage which I met on my way up; but, by untoward accidents (needless to detail), yet lies by me. My disorder has left me almost since I left the city.

The person with whom I had business had gone from this place before my arrival, so that I should have been, ere this, on my return, but that I have suffered myself to be engaged in two land causes (Van Hoesen and Van Rensselaer), which begin to-morrow, and will probably last the whole week. I am retained for Van Hoesen, together with J. Bay and P.

W. Yates. Such able coadjutors will relieve me of the princ.i.p.al burden. You may judge with what reluctance I engaged in a business which will detain me so long from all that is dear and lovely. I dare not think on the period I have yet to be absent. I feel it in some sort a judgment for the letters written by the girls to N.W.

Your account of your health is very suspicious; you are not particular enough; you say nothing of the means you use to restore yourself; whether you take exercise, or how you employ your time.

I shall probably leave this on Sunday next; my horse will not take me home in three days. I fear I shall not see you till Wednesday morning of next week; perhaps not even then, for I am engaged to attend the court at Bedford on Tuesday of next week. You shall hear again by the stage.

Will not these continued rains deprive us of the pleasure of the promised visit of the W.'s? How is it possible you can write me such short letters, having so much leisure, and surrounded with all that can interest me? Adieu.

A. BURR.

TO MRS. BURR.

Albany, 2d November, 1785.

I have lived these three days upon the letters I expected this evening, and behold the stage without a line! I have been through the rain, and dark, and mud, hunting up every pa.s.senger to catechise them for letters, and can scarce yet believe that I am so totally forgotten.

Our trial, of which I wrote you on Sunday, goes on moderately. It will certainly last till twelve o'clock on Sat.u.r.day night; longer it cannot, that being the last hour of court. Of course, I leave this on Sunday; shall be detained at Westchester till about Thursday noon, and be home on Friday. This is my present prospect; a gloomy one, I confess; rendered more so by your unpardonable silence. I have a thousand questions to ask, but why ask of the dumb?

I am quite recovered. The trial in which I am engaged is a fatiguing one, and in some respects vexatious. But it puts me in better humour to reflect that you have just received my letter of Sunday, and are saying or thinking some good-natured things of me. Determining to write any thing that can amuse and interest me; every thing that can atone for the late silence, or compensate for the hard fate that divides us.

Since being here I have resolved that you in future accompany me on such excursions, and I am provoked to have yielded to your idle fears on this occasion. I have told here frequently, within a day or two, that I was never so long from home before, till, upon counting days, I find I have been frequently longer. I am so constantly antic.i.p.ating the duration of this absence, that when I speak of it I realize the whole of it.

Let me find that you have done justice to yourself and me. I shall forgive none the smallest omission on this head. Do not write by the Monday stage, or rather, do not send the letter you write, as it is possible I shall leave the stage-road in my way to Bedford.