Chapter XV: From Mrs. Burr (1)

New-York, August, 1786.

Your letter was faithfully handed us by the boy from Hall's. Bartow has enclosed the papers. Those you mentioned to me on the night of your departure I cannot forward, as I have forgot the names of the parties, and they cannot guess them in the office from my description, I hope the disappointment will not be irreparable.

If you finish your causes before court is over, cannot you look at us, even should you return to the manor? The two girls followed you to the stagehouse, saw you seated and drive off. Frederick's tooth prevented his attendance. My heart is full of affection, my head too barren to express it. I am impatient for evening; for the receipt of your dear letter; for those delightful sensations which your expressions of tenderness alone can excite. Dejected, distracted with out them; elated, giddy even to folly with them; my mind, never at medium, claims every thing from your partiality.

I have just determined to take a room at aunt Clarke's till Sally recovers her appetite; by the advice of the physician, we have changed her food from vegetable to animal. A change of air may be equally beneficial. You shall have a faithful account, I leave town at six this evening. All good angels attend thee. The children speak their love. Theodosia has written to you, and is anxious lest I should omit sending it. Toujours la vôtre,

THEODOSIA.

TO MRS. BURR.

Albany, August, 1786.

Your letter of Thursday evening was stuffed into one of the office papers, so that I did not find it for half an hour after I received the packet, during all which time I had the pleasure of abusing you stoutly. But I had only prepared myself for the most delightful surprise. I apologized with great submission.

Why are you so cautiously silent as to our little Sally? You do not say that she is better or worse; from which I conclude she is worse. I am not wholly pleased with your plan of meat diet. It is recommended upon the idea that she has no disorder but a general debility. All the disorders of this season are apt to be attended with fevers, in which case animal diet is unfriendly. I beg you to watch the effects of this whim with great attention. So essential a change will certainly have visible effects. Remember, I do not absolutely condemn, because I do not know the principles, but am fearful.

Every minute of my time is engrossed to repair the loss of my little book. Thank the boys for their attention to the business I left them in charge. I wish either of them had given me a history of what is doing in the office, and you of what is doing in the family. The girls I know to be incorrigibly lazy, and therefore expect nothing from them. The time was--but I have no leisure to reflect.

Thine,

A. BURR.

TO MRS. BURR.

Albany, August, eleven o'clock at night, 1786.

I have this day your letter by my express. I am sorry that you and others perplex yourselves with that office nonsense. Am too fatigued and too busy to say more of it. We began our Catskill causes this morning, and have this minute adjourned to meet at seven in the morning. We shall be engaged at the same disagreeable rate till Saturday evening. I think our title stands favourably; but the jury are such that the verdict will be in some measure hazardous. I have judgment for Maunsel against Brown, after a laboured argument. Inform him, with my regards.

Since writing thus far, I have your affectionate letter by the stage, which revives me. I shall not go to the manor. But, if I succeed in our causes, shall be obliged to go to Catskill to settle with the tenants, make sales, &c. Of this you cannot know till Tuesday evening.

I am wrong to say that I shall not go to the manor. I am obliged to attend a Court of Chancery there. The chancellor had gone hence before my arrival. I cannot be home till Thursday evening. I hope your next will be of the tenour of the last. Your want of cheerfullness is the least acceptable of any token of affection you can give me. Good angels guard and preserve you.

A. BURR.

FROM MRS. BURR.

New-York, November, 1787.

What language can express the joy, the gratitude of Theodosia? Stage after stage without a line. Thy usual punctuality gave room for every fear; various conjectures filled every breast. One of our sons was to have departed tomorrow in quest of the best of friends and fathers. This morning we waited the stage with impatience. Shrouder went frequently before it arrived; at length returned--_no letter._ We were struck dumb with disappointment. Bartow set out to inquire who were the passengers; in a very few minutes returned exulting,--a packet worth the treasures of the universe. Joy brightened every face; all expressed their past anxieties; their present happiness. To enjoy was the first result. Each made choice of what they could best relish. Porter, sweet wine, chocolate, and sweetmeats made the most delightful repast that could be shared without thee. The servants were made to feel _their lord was well_, are at this instant toasting his health and bounty; while the boys are obeying thy dear commands, thy Theodosia flies to speak her heartfelt joys:--her Aaron safe, mistress of the heart she adores; can she ask more? has Heaven more to grant? "_Plus que jamais à vous_," dost thou recollect it? Do I read right? I can't mistake; I read it everywhere; 'tis stamped on the blank paper; I sully the impression with reluctance; I know not what I write. You talk of long absence. I stoop not to dull calculations; thou hast judged it best; thy breast breathes purest flame. What greater blessing can await me? Every latent spark is kindled in my soul. My imagination is crowded with ideas; they leave me no time for utterance; _plus que jamais_; but for Sally, I should set out to-morrow to meet you. I must dress and visit to-morrow. I have heard nothing of the W.s. Our two dear pledges have an instinctive knowledge of their mother's bliss. They have been awake all the evening I have the youngest in my arms. Our sweet prattler exclaims at every noise, There's dear papa, and runs to meet him. I pursue the medicine I began when you left us, and believe it efficacious. Exercise costs me a crown a day; our own horse disabled by the nail which penetrated the joint. I have grown less, and better pleased with myself; feel confident of your approbation. W. hastens the first assembly. F. feigns herself lame, that she may not accompany M., who submits to every little meanness, and bears all hints with insensibility. Has called here once. Clement sailed on Monday.

Your remark on the shortness of my letters is flattering. This is the last you shall complain of. My spirits and nerves coincide in asking repose. Your daughter commands it. Our dear children join in the strongest assurances of honest love. Mamma will not be forgotten. Sweet sleep attend thee. Thy Theo.'s spirit shall preside. I wish you may find this scrawl as short at reading as I have at writing. I am surprised to find myself obliged to enclose it. Adieu.

THEODOSIA BURR.

FROM MRS. BURR.

New-York, Wednesday, November, 1787.

My health is better. As I fondly believe this the most interesting intelligence I can give thee, I make it my preamble. What would I not give to have but those four small words from thee? Though I had but little hope, I found myself involuntarily counting the passing hours. My messenger met the stage at the door. I need not relate his success. I fancy many ills from the situation of your health when you left home, and pray ardently they may prove merely fanciful. I have still three tedious days to the next stage, when a line of affection shall repay all my anxieties. Ireson returned to-day. The poor boys have really been models of industry. They write all day and evening, and sometimes all night, nor allow themselves time to powder.

I feel as though my guardian angel had forsaken me. I fear every thing but ghosts. Tell me, Aaron, why do I grow every day more tenacious of thy regard? Is it possible my affection can increase? Is it because each revolving day proves thee more deserving? Surely, thy Theo. needed no proof of thy goodness. Heaven preserve the patron of my flock; preserve the husband of my heart; teach me to cherish his love, and to deserve the boon.

THEODOSIA BURR.

TO MRS. BURR.

Poughkeepsie, 28th June, 1788.

This afternoon the stage will pass through this place. Your letters will not come to me till the morning, so that I can only thank you for them, and the kind things they contain, by anticipation. I have already read them in the same way, and therefore do thank you for them, _de plein coeur_. I have a convenient room for my business in one house, board at a different house, and bad lodgings at a third house. This is, indeed, not so convenient an arrangement as might be wished; but I could not procure these different accommodations at less than three houses in this metropolis and seat of government.

As the boys will wish to know something of the progress of business here, tell them that the cause of Freer and Van Vleeck has been this day put off by the defendants, on payment of costs, on an affidavit of the want of papers. In Noxon's cause I have a verdict for thirty-four pounds. The evidence clearly entitled Mr. Livingston to three or four hundred pounds, and so was the charge of the judge; but landlords are not popular or favoured in this county. I am now going to court to defend an action of trespass, in which I have been employed here; and shall try Mr. Lansing's cause to-morrow, which will close my business here. With how much regret I shall go further from home. Kiss our dear children.

A. BURR.

TO MRS. BURR.

Poughkeepsie, 29th June, 1788.

I have sat an hour at the door watching the arrival of the stage. At length it comes, and your dear packet is handed to me just in season to be acknowledged by Mr. Johnstone. He will tell you of the further progress of my business and my intended movements. I go this evening to Rhinebeck. How wishfully I look homeward. I like your industry, and will certainly reward it as you shall direct.

My time is much engrossed. My health perfectly good. You say nothing of yours; but your industry is a good omen. You can write to me by Monday's stage, directed to be forwarded to me from Rhinebeck. I shall be then at Kingston. Much love to the smiling little girl. I received her letter, but not the pretty things. I continually plan my return with childish impatience, and fancy a thousand incidents which render it more interesting. Reserve your health and spirits, and I shall not be deceived.

Affectionately,

A. BURR.

TO MRS. BURR.

Albany, August 7th, 1788.

Oh Theo.! there is the most delightful grove--so darkened with _weeping willows_, that at noonday a _susceptible_ fancy like yours would mistake it for a bewitching moonlight evening. These sympathizing willows, too, exclude even the prying eye of curiosity. Here no rude noise interrupts the softest whisper. Here no harsher sound is heard than the wild cooings of the gentle dove, the gay thresher's animated warbles, and the soft murmurs of the passing brook. Really, Theo., it is _charming_.

I should have told you that I am speaking of Fort Johnson, where I have spent a day. From this _amiable_ bower you ascend a gentle declivity, by a winding path, to a cluster of lofty oaks and locusts. Here nature assumes a more august appearance. The gentle brook, which murmured soft below, here bursts a cataract. Here you behold the stately Mohawk roll his majestic wave along the lofty Apalachians. Here the mind assumes a nobler tone, and is occupied by sublimer objects. What _there_ was tenderness, _here_ swells to rapture. It is truly _charming_.

The windings of this enchanting brook form a lovely island, variegated by the most sportive hand of nature. This shall be yours. We will plant it with jessamines and woodbine, and call it Cyprus. It seems formed for the residence o£ the loves and the graces, and is therefore yours by the best of titles. It is indeed most _charming_.

But I could fill sheets in description of the beauties of this romantic place. We will reserve it for the subject of many an amusing hour. And besides being little in the habit of the sublime or poetical, I grow already out of breath, and begin to falter, as you perceive. I cannot, however, omit the most interesting and important circumstance; one which I had rather communicate to you in this way than face to face. I know that you was opposed to this journey to Fort Johnson. It is therefore with the greater regret that I communicate the event; and you are not unacquainted with my inducements to it.

In many things I am indeed unhappy in possessing a singularity of taste; particularly unhappy when that taste differs in any thing from yours. But we cannot control necessity, though we often persuade ourselves that certain things are our choice, when in truth we have been unavoidably impelled to them. In the instance I am going to relate, I shall not examine whether I have been governed by mere fancy, or by motives of expediency, or by caprice; you will probably say the latter.

My dear Theo., arm yourself with all your fortitude. I know you have much of it, and I hope that upon this occasion you will not fail to exercise it. I abhor preface and preamble, and don't know why I have now used it so freely. But I am well aware that what I am going to relate needs much apology _from_ me, and will need much _to_ you. If I am the unwilling, the unfortunate instrument of depriving you of any part of your promised gayety or pleasure, I hope you are too generous to aggravate the misfortune by upbraiding me with it. Be assured (I hope the assurance is needless), that whatever diminishes your happiness equally impairs mine. In short, then, for I grow tedious both to you and myself; and to procrastinate the relation of disagreeable events only gives them poignancy; in short, then, my dear Theo., the beauty of this same Fort Johnson, the fertility of the soil, the commodiousness and elegance of the buildings, the great value of the mills, and the very inconsiderable price which was asked for the whole, have _not_ induced me to purchase it, and probably never will: in the confidence, however, of meeting your forgiveness,

Affectionately yours,

A. BURR.

TO MRS. BURR.

Albany, 26th October, 1788.

I wrote you a few hours ago, and put the letter into the postofflce. Little did I then imagine how much pleasure was near at hand for me. Judge Hobart has this minute arrived, and handed me your letter of Monday. I cannot thank you sufficiently for all the affection it contains. Be assured it has every welcome which congenial affection can give.

The headache with which I left New-York grew so extreme, that finding it impossible to proceed in the stage, the view of a vessel off Tarrytown, under full sail before the wind, tempted me to go on board. We reached West Point that night, and lay there at anchor near three days. After a variety of changes from sloop to wagon, from wagon to canoe, and from canoe to sloop again, I reached this place last evening. I was able, however, to land at Rhinebeck on Thursday evening, and there wrote you a letter which I suppose reached you on Saturday last.

My business in court will detain me till Saturday of this week, when I propose to take passage in sloop. I have just drunk tea with Mrs. Fairlie, and her daughter, five days old. Thank Bartow for the papers by Judge Hobart. When I wrote him this evening I had not received them.

Yours,

A. BURR.

TO MRS. BURR.

Albany, November, 1788.

I received your affectionate letter just as I was going into court, and under the auspices of it have tried with success two causes. The bearer of this was my client in one of them, and is happy beyond measure at his success. Business has increased upon my hands since I came here. My return seems daily more distant, but not to be regretted from any views but those of the heart.

I hope you persevere in the regular mode of life which I pointed out to you. I shall be seriously angry if you do not. I think you had best take less wine and more exercise. A walk twice round the garden before breakfast, and a ride in the afternoon, will do for the present, and this will be necessary to fit you for the journey to Long Island.

A Captain Randolph will call with Mr. Mersereau: _c'est un soldat et honnête homme, donnez eux à boire._ They will answer all your questions.

Yours truly,

A. BURR.

TO MRS. BURR.

Albany, 23d November, 1788.

I thank you for your obliging letter of the 19th. It is not, indeed, so long as I had hoped, but your reason for being concise is too ingenious not to be admitted. I have, however, a persuasion that you are at this moment employed in the same manner that I am; and in the hope that your good intentions will not be checked by either want of health or want of spirits, I venture to expect a much longer letter by the coming post.

Your account of the progress of the measles is alarming. I am pleased to find that you yet keep your ground. It persuades me that, notwithstanding what you have written, you do not think the hazard very great. That disorder hath found its way to this city, but with no unfavourable symptoms. It is not spoken of as a thing to be either feared or avoided.

I have no prospect of being able to leave this place before this day week, probably not so soon. You must, by return of post, assure me that I shall find you in good health and spirits. This will enable me to despatch business and hasten my return. Kiss those who love me.

A. BURR

TO MRS. BURR.

Albany, 26th November, 1788.

The unusual delay of the post deprives me of the pleasure of hearing from you this evening. This I regret the more, as your last makes me particularly anxious for that which I expected by this post.

I am wearied out with the most tedious cause I was ever engaged in. To-morrow will be the eighth day since we began it, and it may probably last the whole of this week. Write me whether any thing calls particularly for my return so as to prevent my concluding my business here. I am at a loss what to write until I have your answer to my letters, for which I am very impatient.

Yours affectionately,

A. BURR.

From the commencement of the year 1785 until the year 1788, Colonel Burr took but little part in the political discussions of the day. In the year 1787 the opinion had become universal that the states could not be kept together under the existing articles of confederation. On the second Monday in May, 1787, a convention met in Philadelphia for the avowed purpose of "_revising the Articles of Confederation_," &c. On the 28th of September following, that convention, having agreed upon a "_new constitution_," ordered that the same be transmitted to the several legislatures for the purpose of being submitted to a convention of delegates, chosen in each state, for its adoption or rejection.

In January, 1788, the legislature of New-York met, and warm discussions ensued on the subject of the new constitution. These discussions arose on the question of calling a state convention. Parties had now become organized. The friends of the new constitution styled themselves _federalists_. Its opponents were designated _anti-federalists_. The latter denied the right of the general convention to form a "new constitution," and contended that they were limited in their powers to "revising and amending the Articles of Confederation." The former asserted that the general convention had not transcended its powers.

Colonel Burr, on this point, appears to have assumed a neutral stand; but, in other respects, connected himself with what was termed the anti-federal party. He wished amendments to the constitution, and had received, in common with many others, an impression that the powers of the federal government, unless more distinctly defined, would be so exercised as to divest the states of every attribute of sovereignty, and that on their ruins ultimately there would be erected a splendid _national_ instead of a _federal_ government.

In April, 1788, Colonel Burr was nominated by the anti-federalists of the city of New-York as a candidate for the assembly. The feelings of that day may be judged of by the manner in which the ticket was headed. It was published in the newspapers and in handbills as follows:--

"The sons of liberty, who are again called upon to contend with the _sheltered aliens_, who have, by the courtesy of our country, been permitted to remain among us, will give their support to the following ticket:--

"_William Deming, Melancton Smith, Marinus Willet, and Aaron Burr._"

The federalists prevailed by an overwhelming majority. The strength of the contending parties was in the ratio of about seven federalists (or tories) for one anti-federalist (or whig). Such were the political cognomens of the day. The federalists styled their opponents _anti-federalists_. The anti-federalists designated their opponents _tories_.

In April, 1789, there was an election for governor of the State of New-York. The anti-federal party nominated George Clinton. A meeting of citizens, principally federalists, was held in the city of New-York, and Judge Robert Yates was nominated in opposition to Mr. Clinton. Mr. Yates was a firm and decided anti-federalist. He was known to be the personal and political friend of Colonel Burr. At this meeting a committee of correspondence was appointed. Colonel Hamilton and Colonel Burr were both members of this committee.

In their address recommending Judge Yates they state, that Chief-justice Morris or Lieutenant-governor Van Courtlandt were the favourite candidates of the federal party; but, for the sake of harmonizing conflicting interests, a gentleman (Mr. Yates), known as an anti-federalist, had been selected, and they respectfully recommend to Mr. Morris and Mr. Van Courtlandt to withdraw their names, and to unite in the support of Mr. Yates. This address was signed by Alexander Hamilton as chairman. Mr. Clinton, however, was re-elected.

This support of Judge Yates did not diminish Governor Clinton's confidence in the political integrity, or lessen his respect for the talents, of Colonel Burr. A few months after the election the governor tendered to him the office of attorney-general of the state. At first he hesitated about accepting the appointment; but, on the 25th of September, 1789, addressed his excellency as follows:--

TO GOVERNOR GEORGE CLINTON.

SIR,

In case the office you were pleased to propose should be offered to me, I have, upon reflection, determined to accept it; at least until it shall be known upon what establishment it will be placed. My hesitation arose not from any dislike to the office, but from the circumstances which I took the liberty to suggest in our conversation on this subject.

I have the honour to be

Your excellency's obedient servant,

A. BURR.

On the receipt of the above note, Governor Clinton nominated Colonel Burr to the council of appointment as attorney-general of the state, and the nomination was confirmed. This office was rather professional than political. It was, however, at the time, highly important, and imposed the most arduous duties upon the incumbent. Under the new constitution of the United States, after the organization of the government, many intricate questions arose. To discriminate between the claims upon the respective states and those upon the federal government, often required close investigation and no inconsiderable degree of legal astuteness. The claims of individuals who had been in the service of the state during the war of the revolution, or who had otherwise become creditors, were now presented for adjustment. There were no principles settled by which their justice or legality could be tested. All was chaos; and the legislature was about to be overwhelmed with petitions from every quarter for debts due, or for injuries alleged to have been sustained by individuals who had been compelled to receive depreciated money, or whose private property had been taken for public use. In this dilemma the legislature passed an act authorizing the appointment of commissioners to report on the subject. The commissioners were Gerard Bancker, treasurer, Peter T. Curtenius, state auditor, and Aaron Burr, attorney-general.

During the period that Colonel Burr was attorney-general, the seat of government was in the city of New-York. His official duties, therefore, seldom required his absence from home, when his private business, as a professional man, would not have rendered that absence necessary. His correspondence, although more limited, lost none of its interest, and miscellaneous selections from it are therefore continued.

TO MRS. BURR.

Albany, 21st October, 1789.

MY DEAREST THEODOSIA,

I have this moment received your letter of Sunday evening, containing the account of your alarming accident and most fortunate rescue and escape. I thank Heaven for your preservation, and thank you a thousand times for your particular and interesting account of it.

I left my sloop at Kinderhook on Monday morning, and came here that day in a wagon. I wrote you on the passage, and attempted to leave the letter at Poughkeepsie, but the wind not permitting us to stop, I went on board a Rhinebeck sloop, and there found Mrs. Peter R. Livingston, who offered to take charge of my letter.

I am relieved from much anxiety by your management of certain arrangements; I am glad M. W. is content. Mrs. Witbeck met with an accident a little similar to yours; but she lost only her cap and hair.

I am delighted to find that you anticipate as a pleasure that by this post you may write as much as you please. If you set no other bound to your pen than my gratification, you will write me the history every day, not of your actions only (the least of which will be interesting), but of your thoughts. I shall watch with eagerness and impatience the coming of every stage. Let me not be disappointed; you have raised and given confidence to these hopes. We lodge at a neat, quiet widow's, near the Recorder Gansevoort's. Sill invited us very friendly.

Affectionately,

A. BURR.

TO MRS. BURR.

Albany, 24th October, 1783.

With what pleasure have I feasted for three days past upon the letters I was to receive this evening. I was engaged in court when the stage passed. Upon the sound of it I left court and ran to the postoffice; judge of my mortification to find not a line from your hand. Surely, in the course of three days, you might have found half an hour to have devoted to me. You well knew how much I relied on it; you knew the pleasure it would have given me, and the disappointment and chagrin I should feel from the neglect. I cannot, will not believe that these considerations have no weight with you. But a truce to complaints. I will hope that you have written, and that some accident has detained the letter.

Your misfortunes so engrossed me, that I forgot to inquire about Augustine's horses; and to give a caution, which I believe is needless, about the blank checks. Do not part with one till you see it filled up with sum and date. T. P. is apt to make mistakes, and once lost a check which was by accident detected before it was presented for payment. This is my fourth letter. Perhaps I write too much, and you wish to give me an example of moderation.

Yours affectionately,

A. BURR.

TO MRS. BURR.

Albany, 28th October, 1789.

The history of your sufferings, this moment received, is truly unexpected and affecting. My sympathy was wholly with your unfortunate left hand. The distressing circumstances respecting your face must certainly be owing to something more than the mere misfortune of your burn. I cannot help feeling a resentment which must not be in this way expressed. I am sure your sufferings might have been prevented. I had promised myself that they were at an end many days ago.

Forgive my splenetic letter by the last post. I cannot tell you how much I regret it. When I was complaining and accusing you of neglect, you were suffering the most excruciating pain; but I could not have imagined this unfortunate reverse. Impute my impatience to my anxiety to hear from you. I am pleased at the gayety of your letter. Do not think a moment of the consequences which you apprehend from the wound. Let me only hear that you are relieved from pain, and I am happy. This is my fifth letter. Frederick is the laziest dog in the world for not having written me of your situation.

Yours, truly and affectionately,

A. BURR.

TO MRS. BURR.

Claverack, 27th June, 1791.

I have just arrived here, and find Mr. B. Livingston about to return to New-York. He informs me that he left home on Saturday, and sent you word that he was to meet me here. It was kind in him. I cannot say as much of the improvement you made of his goodness.

It is surprising that you tell me nothing of Theo. I would by no means have her writing and arithmetic neglected. It is the part of her education which is of the most present importance. If Shepherd will not attend her in the house, another must be had; but I had rather pay him double than employ another. Is Chevalier still punctual? Let me know whether you are yet suited with horses, and how?

In your letters, speak of Brooks and Ireson's attendance. I wish you would often step into the office, and see as many as you can of the people who come on business. Does young Mr. Broome attend? Other and more interesting questions have been made and repeated in my former letters; I will therefore, at present, fatigue with no more interrogatories. Adieu.

A. BURR.

FROM MRS. BURR.

New-York, 30th June, 1791.

My letter missed the post yesterday not from my neglect. It waited for Brooks's packet, which was not ready till the mail was gone. Mr. B. Livingston just handed me the one you intrusted to him. I was the more pleased with it, as he accompanied it with the most favourabie account of your health I have received since your absence, and promises to forward this in the afternoon.

The Edwardses dine with me; they had taken lodgings previous to their arrival, in consequence of a report made them by the little Bodowins (who were at Mrs. Moore's last winter), that my house was too small and inconvenient to admit of a spare bed. I esteem it a lucky escape. It would have been impossible for me to have borne the fatigue. Charlotte is worn out with sleepless nights, laborious days, and an anxious mind. Hannah constantly drunk. Except William, who is a mere waiter, I have no servant.

My guests are come to dinner. I have solicited them, and shall again, to stay here; but, if they positively decline it, I will go to Frederick. I will steal a moment after dinner to add another page.

July 2d.

The person Mr. Livingston expected to forward my letter by did not go, nor could I hear of an opportunity, till, this moment, Mr. Williams offered to take charge of this. I had arranged every thing to set out for Frederick this morning, when a mortification was found to have taken place on Charlotte's child, and she could not be moved. As I had carted every thing on board, which I assure you was no small piece of business, I sent Natie with the three younger children, and kept Louise and Theo to go with me, whenever this disagreeable event is past.

Theo never can or will make the progress we would wish her while she has so many avocations. I kept her home a week in hopes Shepherd would consent to attend her at home, but he absolutely declined it, as his partners thought it derogatory to their dignity. I was therefore obliged to submit, and permit her to go as usual. She begins to cipher. Mr. Chevalier attends regularly, and I take care she never omits learning her French lesson. I believe she makes most progress in this. Mr. St. Aivre never comes; he can get no fiddler, and I am told his furniture, &c. have been seized by the sheriff. I don't think the dancing lessons do much good while the weather is so warm; they fatigue too soon. I have a dozen and four tickets on hand, which I think will double in value at my return. As to the music, upon the footing it now is she can never make progress, though she sacrifices two thirds of her time to it. 'Tis a serious check to her other acquirements. She must either have a forte-piano at home, or renounce learning it. For these reasons I am impatient to go in the country. Her education is not on an advantageous footing at present. Besides, the playfellows she has at home makes it the most favourable moment for her to be at liberty a few weeks, to range and gain in health a good foundation for more application at our return, when I hope to have her alone; nay, I will have her alone. I cannot live so great a slave, and she shall not suffer. My time shall not be an unwilling sacrifice to others; it shall be hers. She shall have it, but I will not use severity; and without it, at present, I can obtain nothing; 'tis a bad habit, which she never deserves when I have her to myself. The, moment we are alone she tries to amuse me with her improvement, which the little jade knows will always command my attention; but these moments are short and seldom. I have so many trifling interruptions, that my head feels as if I had been a twelvemonth at sea. I scarcely know what I speak, and much less what I write.

What a provoking thing that I, who never go out, who never dress beyond a decent style at home, should not have a leisure moment to read a newspaper. It is a recreation I have not had since you left home, nor could I get an opportunity by water to send them to you. Albany will be a more favourable situation for every conveyance. But I don't understand why your lordship can't pay your obeisance at home in this four week vacation. I think I am entitled to a reason.

Brooks attends regularly. Ireson from six to twelve, and from two to six, as punctual as possible. I should have made the office more my business had I known it would have been agreeable to you. I shall be attentive for the future. Bartow is here every morning. Most people either choose to wait for him, or call at some appointed hour when he can be here. Mr. Broome is here every day.

God knows the quality of this epistle; but the quantity I am certain you won't complain of. 'Tis like throwing the dice--a mere game at hazard; like all gamblers, I am always in hopes the last will prove a lucky cast. Pray, in what consists the pleasure of a familiar correspondence? In writing without form or reflection your ideas and feelings of the moment, trusting to the partiality of your friend every imperfect thought, and to his candour every ill-turned phrase. Such are the letters I love, and such I request of those I love. It must be a very depraved mind from whom such letters are not acceptable.

Neither the packet you left at Kingston, nor the money and greatcoat by Colonel Gausbeck, have yet reached me. I wish you could have passed that leisure four weeks with me at Frederick's. How pleasant such a party would have been. How much quiet we should have enjoyed.

July 3d.

I was interrupted yesterday by the death of Charlotte's child. Though a long-expected event, still the scene is painful. The mother's tears were almost too much for me. I hope nothing new will occur to impede my journey. I set off to-morrow morning.

I am not so sick as when I wrote you last, nor so well as when you left me. I confess I have neglected the use of those medicines I found relief from. The situation of my family has obliged me to neglect myself, nor can I possibly use them at Frederick's. We shall be too crowded. I will nevertheless take them with me. I live chiefly on ale. I buy very good for one dollar per dozen. I have had twenty-one dozen of your pipe of wine bottled. I think it very good.

I thank you for your remembrance per post of 30th June. It was acceptable, though short. How is it possible you had nothing more to write? I know the head may be exhausted, but I was in hopes the heart never could. I am surprised at your not getting my letters. I fear several have either gone to Albany or are lost. I shall, from this day, keep the dates. I wrote you last Sunday--so did Ireson.

You can have no idea how comfortable the house seems since the small tribe have left it. A few weeks' quiet would restore my head. It really wants rest. You can't know how weak it is. I cannot guide a single thought. Those very trifling cares were ever more toilsome to me than important matters; they destroy the mind. But I am beginning another sheet; I am sure you must be tired of this unconnected medley. I will bid you adieu.

Theo. has begun to write several letters, but never finished one. The only time she has to write is also the hour of general leisure, and, when once she is interrupted, there is no making her return to work. I have nothing more to write, except that I am yours affectionately,

THEO. BURR.

TO MRS. BURR.

Albany, 17th July, 1791.

I returned yesterday from Johnstown, worn down with heat, fatigue, and bad fare. It is some small consolation that these tedious journeys are not wholly unproductive.

At Johnstown I was very unexpectedly and agreeably surprised by your letter of the 21st June, which was addressed to me at Kingston. It had been intrusted to an Irishman, whom I at length met pretty much by accident. It informs me of the villany of Frederick's servants, and of his wanting a rib. The latter I have equally at heart with you, and never lose sight of it; but, really, the big mother will not do; the father is not much better--reputable and rich, but coarse and disgusting.

On my return to this place I found your letter of Wednesday morning. I fear the bad road near Pelham will discourage you from riding. As you are likely to make considerable use of it, would it not be worth while to have a few days' work done on it? About an hour after the receipt of the last-mentioned letter, I was made happy by the receipt of that of the 10th instant, which came by sloop. You seem fatigued and worried, your head wild and scarcely able to write, but do not name the cause. Whatever it may have been, I am persuaded that nothing will so speedily and effectually remove such sensations as gentle exercise (or even if it is not gentle) in the open air. The extreme heat of the weather, and the uncommon continuance of it, have, I fear, interrupted your good intentions on this head, especially as you are no friend to riding early. I wish you would alter this part (if it is any part) of your system. Walking early is bad on account of the dew; but riding can, I think, in such weather, be only practised with advantage early in the morning. The freshness of the air, and the sprightliness of all animated nature, are circumstances of no trifling consequence. I have no letter from you by the last post, which put me almost out of humour, notwithstanding the receipt of the three above mentioned within forty-eight hours, of which, however, the latest is a week old.

I hope Theo. will learn to ride on horseback. Two or three hours a day at French and arithmetic will not injure her. Be careful of green apples, &c.

I have been persuaded to undertake a laborious piece of business, which will employ me diligently for about ten days. The eloquence which wrought upon me was principally money. I am now at wages. What sacrifices of time and pleasure do I make to this paltry object--contemptible indeed in itself, but truly important and attractive as the means of gratifying those I love. No other consideration could induce me to spend another day of my life in objects in themselves uninteresting, and which afford neither instruction nor amusement. They become daily more disgusting to me; in some degree, perhaps, owing to my state of health, which is much as when I left New-York. The least fatigue brings a slight return of fever.

Your exercise, your medicine, and your reading are three subjects upon which you have hitherto dwelt only in prospect. They must be all, in some degree, within your power. I have a partiality for the little study as your bedroom. Say a word of each of these matters in your next.

Continue and multiply your letters to me. They are all my solace in this irksome and laborious confinement. The six last are constantly within my reach. I read them once a day at least. Write me of all I have requested, and a hundred things which I have not. You best know how to please and interest.

Your affectionate

A. BURR.

FROM MRS. BURR.

Pelham, 23d July, 1791.

I have just now received your welcome letter of the 17th inst. The pleasure imparted by so flattering a testimony of your good-will, was tempered with a large portion of alloy in the confession of your ill health. I was apprehensive travelling in the heat and bad accommodations would check your recovery. Do return home as soon as possible; or, rather, come to Pelham; try quiet, and the good air, and the attention and friendship of those who love you. You may command Bartow's attendance here whenever it suits you, and you have a faithful envoy in Frederick, who will go post with your commands as often as you wish. It is, indeed, of serious consequence to you, to establish your health _before you commence politician_: when once you get engaged, your industry will exceed your strength; your pride cause you to forget yourself. But remember, you are not your own; there are those who have stronger claims than ambition ought to have, or the public can have.

Why did you undertake that very laborious task you mention? 'Tis certain I have a great pleasure in spending money, but not when it is accompanied with the unpleasant reflection of sacrificing your health to the pursuit.

Theo. is much better; she writes and ciphers from five in the morning to eight, and also the same hours in the evening. This prevents our riding at those hours, except Saturday and Sunday, otherwise I should cheerfully follow your directions, as I rise at five or six every day. Theo. makes amazing progress at figures. Though Louisa has worked at them all winter, and appeared quite an adept at first, yet Theo. is now before her, and assists her to make her sums. You will really be surprised at her improvement. I think her time so well spent that I shall not wish to return to town sooner than I am obliged. She does not ride on horseback, though Frederick has a very pretty riding horse he keeps for her; but were she to attempt it now, there would be so much jealousy, and so many would wish to take their turn, that it would really be impracticable. But we have the best substitute imaginable. As you gave me leave to dispose of the old wheels as I pleased, I gave them as my part towards a wagon; we have a good plain Dutch wagon, that I prefer to a carriage when at Pelham, as the exercise is much better. We ride in numbers and are well jolted, and without dread. 'Tis the most powerful exercise I know. No Spring seats; but, like so many pigs, we bundle together on straw. Four miles are equal to twenty. It is really an acquisition. I hope you will see our little girl rosy cheeked and plump as a partridge. I rejoice with you at the poor major's return. I grow lazy, and love leisure; and, above all, the privilege of disposing of my own time with quiet and retirement when it suits me. I have also made choice of the little study for my own apartment; but with so large a family, and so few conveniences, there can be no place of retirement. The vacation hours of school, and Sunday, there is a constant hurlyburly, and every kind of noise, though it is really much better than I feared. I take all things as philosophically as I know how; provided I have no real evil to struggle with, I pass on with the tumult. I am now writing in the midst of it. The variety of sounds almost dim my sight; but I write on, and trust to good luck more than reflection, I find so much to say that I need not hesitate for matter, though I might for propriety of speaking. My spirits are better: as to industry, it is of a very flighty kind, and so variegated that it will not bear description. It required some attention to get matters _en train_: it was like moving. My disorder I have not, nor am not able to attend to; 'tis attended with so many disagreeable circumstances that it is not practicable at present; but my general health is greatly improved, and my head much relieved. The hint you give respecting a rib for Frederick is more elating than I can express. You say nothing of B. That part of my petition was not less interesting. I humbly pray your honour may take into consideration the equity and propriety of my prayer, and grant me not only a hearing, but deign to give due consideration to the prayer of your humble petitioner, being confident she will find grace and mercy from your tribunal, with a full grant of all your endeavours to reinstate her in that desired tranquillity whose source is in your breast, to that happiness which is suspended on your will.

The heat and drought exceed all recollection. The town is extremely unhealthy. It is fortunate we are here. There is always air--never heat enough to incommode one. I am certain the child would have suffered in town; she was much reduced; her voice and breast were weak. Adieu. I think you must be tired before this. Attend to yourself. If you love us, you will. You will for your

THEODOSIA BURR.

FROM MRS. BURR.

Pelham, 27th July, 1791.

I have lost some of your letters, and I make no doubt some of mine have met the same fate; for this reason I am discouraged trusting any more to the stage. I am obliged to wait with all the patience I can command till the boat returns from town. I have no prospect at present of forwarding this. I write to repeat my thanks for yours of the 17th. It is the last I have received. I read it frequently, and always with new pleasure. I was disappointed at not having a line from you by the Saturday's mail. It is not fair to stand on punctilio, when you know the disadvantages attending my situation here. You ought to be doubly attentive _pour me soulager_. It is not so practicable to send some miles from home twice a week as you imagine.

Poor Dr. Wright had his house two days ago burnt to the ground, and all the furniture, with every article of clothing both of themselves and the children. She is very disconsolate, and much to be pitied. We certainly see the old proverb very often verified. "That misfortunes never come singly," that poor little woman is a proof. They talk of a general war in Europe; in that case _le moulin_ will be an object. We wait your return to determine all things. The Emperess of Russia is as successful as I wish her. What a glorious figure will she make on the historical page! Can you form an idea of a more happy mortal than she will be when seated on the throne of Constantinople? How her ambition will be gratified; the opposition and threats of Great Britain, &c. will increase her triumph. I wish I had wit and importance enough to write her a congratulatory letter. The ladies should deify her, and consecrate a temple to her praise. It is a diverting thought, that the mighty Emperor of the Turks should be subdued by a woman. How enviable that she alone should be the avenger of her sex's wrongs for so many ages past. She seems to have awakened Justice, who appears to be a sleepy dame in the cause of injured innocence.

Am I dreaming, or do you leave home again before you go to Philadelphia? Tell all your intentions; I love to plan and arrange. Our blind state here is one of our most vexatious evils; that state of uncertainty damps every view, and converts our most pleasing hopes into the most disappointing reflections.

Hy! ho! for the major. [1] I am tired to death of living in a nursery. It is very well to be amused with children at an idle hour; but their interruption at all times is insupportable to a person of common reflection. My nerves will not admit of it. You judge right as to the roads on the Neck.

Theodosia is quite recovered, and makes great progress at ciphering. I cannot say so much in favour of her writing. I really think she lost the last month she went to Shepherd. She has not improved since last spring. She is sensible of it, is the reason she is not very desirous to give you a specimen. We now keep her chiefly at figures, which she finds very difficult, particularly to proportion them, and place them straight under each other.

I will conclude my scrawl in the hope that Frederick will be able to forward it for me. Adieu. Remember to answer all my questions, and to take all my prayers in serious consideration. Be attentive to your health, and you will add to the happiness of your

THEODOSIA.

TO MRS. BURR.

Albany, 31st July, 1791.

At length expectation is gratified, and my hopes--even my wishes, fulfilled. Your letters of the 16th and 23d came both by the last post. Their ease, their elegance, and, above all, the affection they contain, are truly engaging and amiable. Be assured that petitions so clothed and attended are _irresistible_.

I anticipate with increasing impatience the hour of leaving this place, and am making every possible exertion to advance it. The delay of two days at Red Hook is indispensable, but will cost me much regret.

I finished on Monday last, tolerably to my own satisfaction, and I believe entirely to that of my employers, the business so often mentioned to you. I received in reward for my labour many thanks, twenty half joes, and promises of more of both of these articles.

The last post is the only one I have missed since I left Esopus. I was in court upon a trial which gave me not a moment's intermission till ten o'clock that evening. Though I do not pay you in quality and manner (for yours are, without flattery, inimitable), I believe I am nothing in arrear in number or quantity. The present is indeed a poor return for your two last; but though you miss of the recompense in this sheet, you will find it in the heart of your

A. BURR.

TO MRS. BURR.

Philadelphia, 27th October, 1791.