Memoirs of Aaron Burr Part 56

I am so much better to-day, that, if the weather was good, I should prosecute my journey if I could find the means of getting on; but the rain, which is continual and very heavy, keeps well and sick within doors.

It is now ten days since I have heard from you; a very long time, considering the situation in which you was left at the date of your last: in a city infected with a mortal and contagious fever. I hope, nay, I persuade myself that you obeyed my wishes by escaping from it to Pelham. The next mail will tell me, and, I trust, relieve me from an anxiety which pursues me day and night.

Monday, 28th September.

Your letter of the 21st, written, I suppose, at Dr. Brown's, is just come in, and relieves me from a weight of anxiety about your health. I am sorry, however (very sorry), that you are not at Frederick's, and am not absolutely either pleased or satisfied with the change.

Of attention and tenderness you will receive not only enough, but a great deal too much; and an indulgence to every inattention, awkward habit, and expression, which may lead you to imagine them to be so many ornaments: as to your language, I shall expect to find it perfectly infantine. As to studies or lessons, I do not know which of them you allude to, as you do not say what books you have taken up. If Mr. Leshlie is your _only_ master, as I suppose, your lesson must be larger than ever heretofore. Your translation of the comedy into French, if not finished, must go on; and if finished, something similar must be taken up. Some English or French history must employ a little of every day. I hope you will ride on horseback daily if the weather should permit--Sam [6] always with you. Visit your neighbours B. B. as often as you please, taking very great care not to surfeit the family with your charming company, which may happen much sooner than you would be inclined to believe.

You ought to be out of the Odyssey before this will reach you, counting only two hundred lines a day since we parted. You may begin the Iliad, if you please. Since you are at uncle B.'s, I will not now pretend to inquire into the motives, much less to censure. I have no doubt but you meant to do the best, and I now hope you will endeavour to make the best _of_ it, and bad enough that will be, with respect to all improvement, if I am not disappointed.

Pray allot an hour for your journal, and never let it be a day in arrear. I shall consider this as occupying usefully the hour which used to be Hewlet's or Meance's. At any rate, let me not, on my return, have occasion to apply to you the motto,

"Strenua me exercet inertia,"

nor that other of

"Operose nihil agit."

But so improve your time that you may with pleasure review and commit it to journal.

----"Hoc est, Vivere bis, vita priori frui."

And let it, at no very distant period, be said of you,

"Tot, tibi, sunt, ergo dotes, quot sidera coelo."

If you should never deserve this, it shall not be the fault of

A. BURR.

TO THEODOSIA IN PHILADELPHIA.

New-York, 8th February, 1796.

What will you think of the taste of New-York when I shall tell you that Miss Broadhurst is not very generally admired here? Such is the fact. I have contributed my feeble efforts to correct this opinion.

Mat's [7] child will not be christened until you shall be pleased to indicate the time, place, manner, and name.

I have promised Tom that he shall take me to Philadelphia if there be sleighing. The poor fellow is almost crazy about it. He is importuning all the G.o.ds for snow, but as yet they don't appear to listen to him.

Your being in the ballette charms me. If you are to practise on Wednesday evening, do not stay away for the expectation of receiving me. If you should be at the ballette, I will go forthwith to see you.

Adieu, chere fille.

A. Burr.

TO THEODOSIA.

Philadelphia, 16th January, 1797.

When I write to you oftener than your turn, you must not let it be known, or there will be jealousy. Your two letters of the 11th and 13th have so much wit, sprightliness, and good sense, that I cannot delay to tell you how much they pleased me. Go on, and you will write better than Cynthia herself. To aid your advances towards perfection, I shall often point out such errors as shall appear to me more particularly to claim your attention.

At present you fail most in punctuation. A very little thought will teach where the sense is complete and a full period is proper. The lesser pauses may be found by reading over two or three times what you may have written. You will naturally make small pauses where the sense shall require it. In spelling you are very well. Always write your name with great care. Adieu.

A. Burr.

TO THEODOSIA.

Philadelphia, 23d January, 1797.

You must not "puzzle all day," my dear little girl, at one hard lesson. After puzzling faithfully one hour, apply to your arithmetic, and do enough to convince the doctor that you have not been idle.

Neither must you be discouraged by one unlucky day. The doctor is a very reasonable man, and makes all due allowance for the levities as well as for the stupidity of children. I think you will not often challenge his indulgence on either score.

And do you regret that you are not also a woman? That you are not numbered in that galaxy of beauty which adorns an a.s.sembly-room?

Coquetting for admiration and attracting flattery? No. I answer with confidence. You feel that you are maturing for solid friendship. The friends you gain you will never lose; and no one, I think, will dare to insult your understanding by such compliments as are most graciously received by too many of your s.e.x.

How unpardonably you neglect C. and N. B. Where are the promised letters? I see with delight that you improve in diction, and in the combination and arrangement of your little ideas. With a view to farther improvement, your letters to me are a most useful exercise. I feel persuaded that all my hopes and wishes concerning you will be accomplished.

Never use a word which does not fully express your thoughts, or which, for any other reason, does not please you. Hunt your dictionary till you find one. Arrange a whole sentence in your mind before you write a word of it; and, whatever may be your "hurry" (never be in a _hurry_), read over your letter slowly and carefully before you seal it.

Interline and erase lightly with your pen what may appear to you to require amendment or correction. I dispense with your copying unless the letter should be much defaced, in which case keep it till the next mail. Copy and improve it.

Your play on "Light" is pretty and witty, and the turn on the _dear little_ letter does not dishonour the metempsychosis of Madame Dacier.

I shall probably see you very soon; we will then rearrange your hours, and endeavour to remove the present and forestall all future troubles.

I should be mortified--I should be almost offended--if I should find that you pa.s.sed over any word in my letters without becoming perfectly acquainted with its meaning, use, and _etymology_.

Since I commenced this letter, yours of the 21st has come in. It speaks of another which has not come, and of Martel's paper, neither of which have come. This arises from "hurry." The note to Mr.

Livingston is middling. Affectionately--no, you hate that word; perhaps every thing is implied in plain.

A. BURR.

TO THEODOSIA.

Albany, 4th January, 1799.

On Tuesday I arrived here, and yesterday received your two letters of the 29th and 30th of December. Your despondency distresses me extremely. It is indeed unfortunate, my dear Theodosia, that we are constrained to be separated. I had never so much need of your society and friendship, nor you, perhaps, of mine. It is a misfortune which I sincerely regret every hour of the day. It is one, however, which you must aid me to support, by testifying that you can support your share of it with firmness and activity. An effort made with decision will convince you that you are able to accomplish all I wish and all you desire. Determination and perseverance in every laudable undertaking is the great point of difference between the silly and the wise. It is essentially a part of your character, and requires but an effort to bring it into action. The happiness of my life depends on your exertions; for what else, for whom else do I live? Not that the acquisition of the languages alone can decide your happiness or mine; but if you should abandon the attempt, or despair of success, or relax your endeavours, it would indicate a feebleness of character which would dishearten me exceedingly. It is for my sake that you now labour. I shall acknowledge your advancement with grat.i.tude and with the most lively pleasure. Let me entreat you not to be discouraged. I know you to be capable of much greater efforts than this will require.

If your young teacher, after a week's trial, should not suit you, dismiss him on any pretence without wounding his pride, and take the old Scotchman. Resolve to succeed, and you cannot fail.

I parted with you amid so much hurry and confusion, and so many vexations, that, when I had time to reflect, I seemed to have said none of the things which I had wished and intended. I reproached myself perpetually that I had not urged you to attend me. Your letters almost confirmed me in the design of returning to fetch you; and yet more sober reason seems to tell me that these things were rather the effusions of sentiment than of a deliberate estimate of your real interests. In six weeks, however, we shall meet.

I intended to have recommended to you the ancient and modern history of Millot. Natalie has some of the volumes--some are in the library at Mrs. D.'s, of which I hope you keep the key. Millot is concise, perspicuous, and well selected. Rollin is full of tedious details and superst.i.tious nonsense.