| | 1 | Author: | Adams
Henry
1838-1918 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | John Randolph  | | | | Published: | 2006 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | William, first American ancestor of the innumerable
Randolphs of Virginia, made his
appearance there at some time not precisely
known, but probably about the year 1660.
The books tell us neither whence he came,
who he was, why he emigrated, nor what were
his means; but "William Randolph, gentleman,
of Turkey Island," originally from Warwickshire,
or from Yorkshire, at all events
from England, unless it were from Scotland,
married Mary Isham, of Bermuda Hundred,
and by her had seven sons and two daughters,
whose descendants swarmed like bees in the
Virginian hive. Turkey Island, just above the
junction of the James with the Appomattox,
lies unnoticed by mankind except at long intervals
of a hundred years. In 1675, about
the time when William Randolph began his
prosperous career there, Nathaniel Bacon lived
on his plantation at Curles, adjoining Randolph's
estate. Bacon's famous rebellion broke
out in this year, and in 1706, according to the
records of Henrico County, Curles, after escheating
to the King, had come into the hands
of William Randolph's sons. The world's
attention, however, was not so actively drawn
to this group of tobacco plantations by Bacon's
rebellion as by Benedict Arnold's raid in
1781, and neither of these bloody and destructive
disturbances made the region nearly so
famous as it became on June 30, 1862, when
fifty thousand Northern troops, beaten, weary,
and disorganized, converged at Malvern Hill and
Turkey Island Bridge, and the next day fought
a battle which saved their army and perhaps
their cause, without a thought or a care for
the dust of forgotten Randolphs, on which they
were trampling in this cradle of the race. They
were not more indifferent than the family itself,
for long before this time the descendants of
William Randolph had grown up, multiplied,
accumulated great possessions in slaves and
land, then slowly waned in fortune, and at last
disappeared, until not an acre of land on the
James or the Appomattox was owned by a Randolph. Known to you only as holding, in common
with yourself, the honorable station of servant to the
same sovereign people, and disclaiming all pretentions
to make to you any application which in the
general estimation of men requires the preface of
apology, I shall, without the circumlocution of compliment,
proceed to state the cause which induces
this address." "I have not seen, although I have heard, of the
attack which you mention, upon Gallatin, in the
`Aurora.' That paper is so long in reaching me,
and, moreover, is so stuffed with city, or rather suburb,
politics, that I seldom look at it. Indeed, I
have taken a disgust at newspapers ever since the
deception and disappointment which I felt in the case
of Langdon's election. If the `Boston Chronicle,'
published almost upon the spot, should so grossly misrepresent
a plain matter of fact, so easily ascertained,
what reliance can be placed upon a newspaper statement?
My incredulity refused to credit Hamilton's
death, which I thought it very likely would be contradicted
by the next mail; and, until I saw Morris's
wretched attempt at oratory, regarded it merely as a
matter of speculation. You ask my opinion on that
subject; it differs but little, I believe, from your
own. I feel for Hamilton's immediate connections
real concern; for himself, nothing; for his party and
those soi-disant republicans who have been shedding
crocodile tears over him, contempt. The first are
justly punished for descending to use Burr as a tool
to divide their opponents; the last are hypocrites, who
deify Hamilton merely that they may offer up their
enemy on his altars. If Burr had not fallen, like Lucifer,
never to rise again, the unprincipled persecution
of Cheetham might do him service. (By the way, I
wonder if Dennie adverted to Cheetham's patronage
of General Hamilton's memory, when he said that,
`except the imported scoundrel,' etc., etc., all bewailed
his loss.) As it is, those publications are calculated to
engage for him the pity even of those who must deny
their esteem. The people, who ultimately never fail
to make a proper decision, abhor persecution, and
while they justly refuse their confidence to Mr. Burr,
they will detest his oppressors. They cannot, they
will not, grope in the vile mire of seaport politics, not
less vitiated than their atmosphere. Burr's is indeed
an irreparable defeat. He is cut off from all hope
of a retreat among the federalists, not so much because
he has overthrown their idol as because he
cannot answer their purpose. If his influence were
sufficient to divide us, Otis and Morris would to-morrow,
ere those shoes were old in which they followed
Hamilton to the grave, go to the hustings and vote
for Burr; and if his character had no other stain
upon it than the blood of Hamilton, he should have
mine, for any secondary office. I admire his letters,
particularly that signed by Van Ness, and think his
whole conduct in that affair does him honor. How
much it is to be regretted that so nice a perception
of right and wrong, so delicate a sense of propriety,
as he there exhibits should have had such little
influence on his general conduct! In his correspondence
with Hamilton, how visible is his ascendency
over him, and how sensible does the latter appear
of it! There is an apparent consciousness of some
inferiority to his enemy displayed by Hamilton
throughout that transaction, and from a previous
sight of their letters I could have inferred the issue
of the contest. On one side there is labored obscurity,
much equivocation, and many attempts at evasion,
not unmixed with a little blustering; on the
other, an unshaken adherence to his object and an
undeviating pursuit of it, not to be eluded or baffled.
It reminded me of a sinking fox pressed by a vigorous
old hound, where no shift is permitted to avail
him. But perhaps you think me inclined to do Burr
more than justice. I assure you, however, that
when I first saw the correspondence, and before my
feelings were at all excited for the man, as they have
been in some degree by the savage yell which has
been raised against him, I applauded the spirit and
admired the style of his compositions. They are the
first proof which I ever saw of his ability." "On my return from Fredericksburg, after a racing
campaign, I was very agreeably accosted by your
truly welcome letter, to thank you for which, and not
because I have anything, stable news excepted, to
communicate, I now take up the pen. It is some
satisfaction to me, who have been pestered with inquiries
that I could not answer on the subject of
public affairs, to find that the Chancellor of the Exchequer
and First Lord of the Treasury is in as comfortable
a state of ignorance as myself. Pope says of
governments, that is best which is best administered.
What idea, then, could he have of a government
which was not administered at all? The longer I
live, the more do I incline to somebody's opinion
that there is in the affairs of this world a mechanism
of which the very agents themselves are ignorant,
and which, of course, they can neither calculate nor
control. As much free will as you please in everything
else, but in politics I must ever be a necessitarian.
And this comfortable doctrine saves me a deal
of trouble and many a twinge of conscience for my
heedless ignorance. I therefore leave Major Jackson
and his Ex. of Casa Yrujo to give each other the lie
in Anglo-American or Castilian fashions, just as it
suits them, and when people resort to me for intelligence,
instead of playing the owl and putting on a face
of solemn nonsense, I very fairly tell them, with perfect
nonchalance, that I know nothing of the matter,
— from which, if they have any discernment, they
may infer that I care as little about it, — and then
change the subject as quickly as I can to horses, dogs,
the plough, or some other upon which I feel myself
competent to converse. In short, I like originality
too well to be a second-hand politician when I can
help it. It is enough to live upon the broken victuals
and be tricked out in the cast-off finery of you
first-rate statesmen all the winter. When I cross the
Potomac I leave behind me all the scraps, shreds, and
patches of politics which I collect during the session,
and put on the plain homespun, or, as we say, the
`Virginia cloth,' of a planter, which is clean, whole,
and comfortable, even if it be homely. Nevertheless,
I have patriotism enough left to congratulate
you on the fullness of the public purse, and cannot
help wishing that its situation could be concealed
from our Sangrados in politics, with whom depletion
is the order of the day. On the subject of a navy, you
know my opinion concurs with yours. I really feel
ashamed for my country, that whilst she is hectoring
before the petty corsairs of the coast of Barbary,
she should truckle to the great pirate of the German
Ocean; and I would freely vote a naval force
that should blow the Cambrian and Leander out of
water. Indeed, I wish Barron's squadron had been
employed on that service. I am perfectly aware
of the importance of peace to us, particularly with
Great Britain, but I know it to be equally necessary
to her; and in short, if we have any honor as a nation
to lose, which is problematical, I am unwilling
to surrender it. "Bizarre, 29 March, 1805. . . . My sins against
Monroe, in whose debt I have been for near five
months, would have excited something of compunction
in me were I any longer susceptible of such sensations;
but I will write to him immediately on your
subject; and, take my word for it, my good friend,
he is precisely that man to whom your spirit would
not disdain to be obliged. For, if I know you, there
are very few beings in this vile world of ours from
whom you would not scorn even the semblance of obligation.
In a few weeks I shall sail for London myself.
. . . I gather from the public prints that we are
severely handled by the feds and their new allies.
Not the least equivocal proof, my friend, that the
trust reposed in us has not been betrayed. I hope to
be back in time to trail a pike with you in the next
campaign. . . . I wish very much to have if it were
but half an hour's conversation with you. Should
you see Gallatin, commend me to him and that admirable
woman his wife. What do you augur from
the vehement puff of B[urr]? As you well know,
I never was among his persecutors, but this is overstepping
the modesty of nature. Besides, we were
in Washington at the time, and heard nothing of the
miraculous effects of his valedictory. Rely upon it,
strange things are at hand. Never did the times require
more union and decision among the real friends
of freedom. But shall we ever see decision or union?
I fear not. To those men who are not disposed
to make a job of politics, never did public
affairs present a more awful aspect. Everything and
everybody seems to be jumbled out of place, except
a few men who are steeped in supine indifference,
whilst meddling fools and designing knaves are
governing the country under the sanction of their
names." "28 June, 1805. . . . I do not understand your
manœuvres at headquarters, nor should I be surprised
to see the Navy Department abolished, or, in
more appropriate phrase, swept by the board, at the
11
next session of Congress. The nation has had the
most conclusive proof that a head is no necessary appendage
to the establishment." "I am still too unwell to turn out. My bowels are
torn all to pieces. If you persist in voting the money,
the committee will alter its report. Write me on this
subject, and tell me what you are doing. How is
Edward to-day? I 've heard from St. George. He
got to Norfolk in time for the Intrepid, on the 24th,
Tuesday. She was loaded, and only waiting for a fair
wind. If the southeaster of Friday did not drive her
back into the Chesapeake, she has by this time crossed
the Gulf Stream. The poor fellow was very seasick
going down the bay. "Bizarre, 3 June, 1806. . . . The public prints
teem with misrepresentations, which it would be vain
to oppose, even if an independent press could be found
to attempt it. The torrent is for the present resistless.
I long for the meeting of Congress, an event
which hitherto I have always deprecated, that I may
face the monster of detraction. . . . Nothing will be
left undone to excite an opposition to me at the next
election, but I have no expectation that it will be effected,
or of its success in case it should. There are
too many gaping idolaters of power among us, but,
like you, we have men of sterling worth; and one
thing is certain, — that, however we may differ on the
subject of the present administration, all parties here
(I speak of the republicans) unite in support of Monroe
for President. I have heard of but one dissenting
voice, Giles, who is entirely misled; all his information
is from E[ppes], his representative. They
talk of an expression of the opinion of our legislature
to this effect at their next meeting. An inefficient
opposition is making to Garnett. Thompson, I
believe, will have an opponent likewise, but this is
not yet determined on. From what I have written
above you are not to infer that I mean to yield a
bloodless victory to my enemies. You know me well
enough, I hope, to believe that a want of perseverance
is not among my defects. I will persevere to
the last in the cause in which I am embarked." "Washington, March 20, 1806. . . . There is
no longer a doubt but that the principles of our administration
have been materially changed. The
compass of a letter (indeed, a volume would be too
small) cannot suffice to give you even an outline. Suffice
it to say that everything is made a business of bargain
and traffic, the ultimate object of which is to raise
Mr. Madison to the presidency. To this the old
republican party will never consent, nor can New
York be brought into the measure. Between them
and the supporters of Mr. Madison there is an open
rupture. Need I tell you that they (the old republicans)
are united in your support? that they look to
you, sir, for the example which this nation has yet to
receive to demonstrate that the government can be
conducted on open, upright principles, without intrigue
or any species of disingenuous artifice? We are extremely
rejoiced to hear that you are about to return
to the United States. Much as I am personally interested,
through St. George, in your stay in Europe, I
would not have you remain one day longer. Your
country requires, nay demands, your presence. It is
time that a character which has proved invulnerable
to every open attack should triumph over insidious
enmity." "Georgetown, 10 December, 1806. . . . The
message of the 3d was, as you supposed, wormwood
to certain gentry. They made wry faces, but, in fear
of the rod and in hopes of sugar-plums, swallowed it
with less apparent repugnance than I had predicted.
. . . Of all the men who have met me with the
greatest apparent cordiality, old Smilie is the last
whom you would suspect. I understand that they
(you know who they are) are well disposed towards
a truce. The higher powers are in the same goodly
temper, as I am informed. I have seen nobody belonging
to the administration but the Secretary of the
Navy, who called here the day before yesterday, and
whose visit I repaid this morning. You may remember,
some years ago, my having remarked to you the
little attention which we received from the grandees,
and the little disposition which I felt to court it. I
have therefore invariably waited for the first advance
from them, because at home I conceive myself bound
to make it to any gentleman who may be in my neighborhood." "Committee Room, 17 February, 1807. . . .
Bad as you suppose matters to be, they are even
worse than you apprehend. What think you of that
Prince of Prigs and Puppies, G. W. C[ampbell] for
a judge of the Supreme Court of the United States!!!
Risum teneas? You must know we have made a new
circuit, consisting of the three western States, with an
additional associate justice. A caucus (excuse the
slang of politics) was held, as I am informed, by the
delegations of those States for the purpose of recommending
some character to the President. Boyle was
talked of, but the interest of C. finally prevailed.
This is `Tom, Dick, and Harry' with a vengeance.
. . . If Mr. `American,' whom, by the way, I never
see, should persevere in the attack which you tell me
he is making upon me, I shall issue letters of marque
and reprisal against his principals. The doughty
general [Samuel Smith] is vulnerable at all points,
and his plausible brother [Robert Smith] not much
better defended. The first has condemned in terms
of unqualified reprobation the general measures pursued
by the administration, and lamented that, such
was the public infatuation, no man could take a position
against it without destroying himself and injuring
the cause which he attempted to serve, — with
much more to the same tune. I called some time
since at the navy office to ask an explanation of certain
items of the estimate for this year. The Secretary
called up his chief clerk, who knew very little
more of the business than his master. I propounded
a question to the head of the department; he turned
to the clerk like a boy who cannot say his lesson, and
with imploring countenance beseeches aid; the clerk
with much assurance gabbled out some commonplace
jargon, which I would not take for sterling; an explanation
was required, and both were dumb. This
pantomime was repeated at every new item, until, disgusted,
and ashamed for the degraded situation of the
principal, I took leave without pursuing the subject,
seeing that my subject could not be attained. There
was not one single question relating to the department
that the Secretary could answer." "Bizarre, March 24, 1807. . . . Mr. T. M.
Randolph suddenly declines a reëlection, in favor of
Wilson Nicholas, whose talents for intrigue you well
know, I presume. Had I known of Mr. Purviance's
arrival, I should certainly have remained in Washington
for the purpose of seeing him, and procuring
better information concerning the treaty than the
contradictory accounts of the newspapers furnish. I
have considered the decree of Berlin to be the great
cause of difficulty; at the same time, I never had a
doubt that clamor would be raised against the treaty,
be it what it might. My reasons for this opinion I
will give when we meet. They are particular as well
as general. Prepare yourself to be surprised at some
things which you will near." "Richmond, May 30, 1807. . . . The friends of
Mr. Madison have left nothing undone to impair the
very high and just confidence of the nation in yourself.
Nothing but the possession of the government
could have enabled them to succeed, however partially,
in this attempt. In Virginia they have met
with the most determined resistance, and although
I believe the executive influence will at last carry
the point, for which it has been unremittingly exerted,
of procuring the nomination of electors favorable
to the Secretary of State, yet it is not even
in its power to shake the confidence of the people
of this State in your principles and abilities, or to
efface your public services from their recollection.
I should be wanting in my duty to you, my dear
sir, were I not to apprise you that exertions to diminish
the value of your character and public services
have been made by persons, and in a manner
that will be scarcely credible to you, although at the
same time unquestionably true. Our friend Colonel
Mercer, should you land in a northern port, can give
you some correct and valuable information on this
and other subjects. Meanwhile, the republicans of
New York, sore with the coalition effected by Mr.
John Nicholas between his party and the federalists
(now entirely discomfited), and knowing the auspices
under which he acted, are irreconcilably opposed
to Mr. Madison, and striving to bring forward Mr.
Clinton, the Vice-President. Much consequently
depends on the part which Pennsylvania will take in
this transaction. There is a leaning, evidently, towards
the New York candidate. Whether the executive
influence will be able to overcome this predisposition
yet remains to be seen. In the person of any
other man than Mr. M. I have no doubt it would
succeed. But the republicans of Pennsylvania, setting
all other considerations aside, are indignant at
the recollection that in all their struggles with the
combined parties of McKean, etc., and the federalists,
the hand of government has been felt against
them, and so far as it has been exerted they choose to
ascribe [it] to the exertions of Mr. M. Such is, as
nearly as I can collect, the posture of affairs at present.
Wilson C. N[icholas] and Duane are both in town at
this time. Some important result is no doubt to flow
from this conjunction. When you return, you will
hardly know the country. A system of espionage
and denunciation has been organized which pervades
every quarter. Distrust and suspicion generally prevail
in the intercourse between man and man. All is
constraint, reserve, and mystery. Intrigue has arrived
at a pitch which I hardly supposed it would have
reached in five centuries. The man of all others who,
I suppose, would be the last suspected by you is the
nucleus of this system. The maxim of Rochefoucauld
is in him completely verified, `that an affectation
of simplicity is the refinement of imposture.'
Hypocrisy and treachery have reached their acme
amongst us. I hope that I shall see you very soon
after your arrival. I can then give you a full explanation
of these general expressions, and proof
that they have been made upon the surest grounds.
Amongst your unshaken friends you may reckon two
of our chancellors, Mr. Nicholson of Maryland, Mr.
Clay of Philadelphia, Col. Jno. Taylor, and Mr.
Macon." "Baltimore, April 12, 1807. . . . As to the
public sentiment, I cannot readily state what it is.
Perhaps there is none. The President's popularity
is unbounded, and his will is that of the nation. His
approbation seems to be the criterion by which the
correctness of all public events is tested. Any treaty,
therefore, which he sanctions will be approved of by
a very large proportion of our people. The federalists
will murmur, but as this is the result of system,
and not of principle, its impression will be neither
deep nor extensive. A literal copy of Jay's treaty,
if ratified by the present administration, would meet
their opposition, while the same instrument, although
heretofore so odious to some of us, would now command
the support of a large body who call themselves
democrats. Such is our present infatuation. To
this general position, however, there are some honest
exceptions. There is a portion who yet retain the
feelings of 1798, and whom I denominate the old
republican party. These men are personally attached
to the President, and condemn his measures when
they think him wrong. They neither wish for nor
expect anything from his extensive patronage. Their
public service is intended for the public good, and has
no view to private emolument or personal ambition.
But it is said they have not his confidence, and I lament
it. You must have perceived from the public
prints that the most active members in the House of
Representatives are new men, and I fear that foreign
nations will not estimate American talent very highly
if our congressional proceedings are taken as the rule.
If you knew the Sloans, the Alstons, and the Bidwells
of the day, and there are a great many of them,
you would be mortified at seeing the affairs of the
nation in such miserable hands. Yet these are styled
exclusively the President's friends. . . . These facts
will enable you to form an early opinion as to the
necessity of remaining in England. You know Mr.
Jefferson perfectly well, and can therefore calculate
the chances of his approving anything done not in
precise conformity to his instructions. He is, however,
somewhat different from what he was. He feels
at present his own strength with the nation, and
therefore is less inclined to yield to the advice of his
friends. Your return is anxiously wished for by
many who, I presume you know, are desirous of putting
you in nomination for the presidency. My own
expectations are not very sanguine on this subject.
Great efforts are making for and by another. The
Virginia and New York elections which take place in
the course of the present month will determine much.
The point is made throughout Virginia, I believe,
and much solicitude is felt and expressed by the candidate
for the presidency as to the result of the several
elections. It is to be hoped, therefore, that you
will return as early as possible." "Bizarre, 25 March, 1807. . . . I fully intended
to have written to you the day before my departure
from Washington, but was prevented by an accident
which had nearly demolished me. Being very unwell
on Monday night, the 2d, and no carriage to be procured,
I accepted the offer of one of his horses from
Dr. Bibb (successor to Spalding), and we set out together
for Georgetown. Not very far beyond our
old establishment (Sally Dashiell's), the only girth
there was to the saddle gave way, and as it fitted the
horse very badly it came with his rider at once to
the ground. Figure to yourself a man almost bruised
to death, on a dark, cold night, in the heart of the
capital of the United States, out of sight or hearing
of a human habitation, and you will have a tolerably
exact idea of my situation, premising that I was previously
knocked up by our legislative orgies, and some
scrapes that our friend Lloyd led me into. With
Bibb's assistance, however, I mounted the other horse,
and we crept along to Crawford's, where I was seized
with a high fever, the effects of which have not yet
left me. To end this Canterbury tale, I did not get
out of bed until Wednesday afternoon, when I left it
to begin a painful journey homewards. Anything,
however, was preferable to remaining within the ten-miles-square
one day longer than I was obliged. . . .
Colonel Burr (quantum mutatus ab illo!) passed by
my door the day before yesterday, under a strong
guard. So I am told, for I did not see him, and
nobody hereabouts is acquainted with his person.
The soldiers escorting him, it seems, indulged his
aversion to be publicly known, and to guard against
inquiry as much as possible he was accoutred in a
shabby suit of homespun, with an old white hat
flapped over his face, the dress in which he was apprehended.
From the description, and indeed the
confession of the commanding officer to one of my
neighbors, I have no doubt it was Burr himself.
His very manner of travelling, although under arrest,
was characteristic of the man, enveloped in mystery." "Richmond, 25 June, 1807. . . . Yesterday the
grand jury found bills of treason and misdemeanor
against Burr and Blennerhassett, una voce, and this
day presented Jonathan Dayton, ex-senator, John
Smith of Ohio, Comfort Tyler, Israel Smith of New
York, and Davis Floyd of Indiana, for treason. But
the mammoth of iniquity escaped; not that any man
pretended to think him innocent, but upon certain
wire-drawn distinctions that I will not pester you
with. Wilkinson is the only man that I ever saw
who was from the bark to the very core a villain. . . .
Perhaps you never saw human nature in so degraded
a situation as in the person of Wilkinson before the
grand jury, and yet this man stands on the very summit
and pinnacle of executive favor, whilst James Monroe
is denounced. As for such men as the quids you speak
of, I should hardly think his Majesty would stoop to
such humble quarry, when James Monroe was in
view. Tazewell, who is writing on the other side of
the table, and whom you surely remember, says that
he makes the fifth. The other four you have not
mistaken. My friend, I am standing on the soil of
my native country, divested of every right for which
our fathers bled. Politics have usurped the place of
law, and the scenes of 1798 are again revived. Men
now see and hear, and feel and think, politically.
Maxims are now advanced and advocated, which
would almost have staggered the effrontery of Bayard
or the cooler impudence of Chauncy Goodrich, when
we were first acquainted. But enough of this! It
will not be long, I presume, before I shall see you
again. The news of the capture of the Chesapeake
arrived this morning, and I suppose the President
will convene Congress, of course. I have been looking
for something of this sort ever since the change
of ministry and rejection of the treaty was announced.
I have tried to avert from my country a war which I
foresaw must succeed the follies of 1805-6, but I
shall not be the less disposed to withdraw her from
it or carry her through with honor." "I have indulged myself in reading once more the
speech to which you allude. It is the inspiration of
divine wisdom, and as such I have ever adored it.
But, my good friend, I cannot with you carry my
zeal so far as to turn missionary and teach the gospel
of politics to the heathens of Washington. More
easily might a camel pass through a needle's eye
than one particle of the spirit of Chatham be driven
into that `trembling council,' to whom the destinies
of this degraded country are unhappily confided. . . .
But great God! what can you expect from men
who take Wilkinson to their bosoms, and at the same
time are undermining the characters of Monroe and
Macon, and plotting their downfall! There is but
15
one sentiment here, as far as I can learn, on the subject
of the late outrage: that, as soon as the fact was
ascertained, Congress should have been convened, a
strict embargo laid, Erskine [the British Minister]
sent home, our Ministers recalled, and then we might
begin to deliberate on the means of enforcing our
rights and extorting reparation. The Proclamation
(or, as I term it, the apology) is received rather
coldly among us. Many persons express themselves
much mortified at it. Every one I see asks what government
means to do, and I might answer, `What
they have always done; nothing!' . . . I should not
be surprised, however, if the Drone or Humble Bee,
(the Wasp has sailed already) should be dispatched
with two millions (this is our standing first bid) to
purchase Nova Scotia, and then we might go to war
in peace and quiet to ascertain its boundaries." "December 24, 1807. . . . Come here, I beseech
you. I will then show you how impossible it was
for me to have voted for the embargo. The circumstances
under which it presented itself were peculiar
and compelled me to oppose it, although otherwise a
favorite measure with me, as you well know. It was,
in fact, to crouch to the insolent mandate of Bonaparte
`that there should be no neutrals;' to subscribe
to that act of perfidy and violence, his decree, at the
moment when every consideration prompted us to resist
and resent it. Non-importation and non-exportation,
— what more can he require? Ought we to
have suffered ourselves to be driven by him out of
the course which, whether right or wrong, our government
had thought proper to pursue towards England?
to be dragooned into measures that in all
human calculation must lead to immediate war? Put
no trust in the newspaper statements. They will
mislead you. But come and view the ground, and I
will abide the issue of your judgment." "December 24, 1807. My dear Sir, — In abstaining
so long from a personal interview with you, I
leave you to judge what violence I have committed
upon my private feelings. Before your arrival, however,
I had determined on the course which I ought
to pursue, and had resolved that no personal gratification
should induce me to hazard your future advancement,
and with it the good of my country, by
any attempt to blend the fate of a proscribed individual
with the destiny which, I trust, awaits you. It is,
nevertheless, of the first consequence to us both that
I should have a speedy opportunity of communing
fully with you. This, perhaps, can be best effected
at my own lodgings, where we shall not be exposed
to observation or interruption. I shall, however,
acquiesce with pleasure in any other arrangement
which may appear more eligible to you. "Georgetown, March 9, 1808. . . . A consciousness
of the misconstruction (to your prejudice)
which would be put upon any correspondence between
us has hitherto deterred me from writing. You will
have no difficulty in conceiving my motives in putting
this violence upon my feelings, especially after the
explanation which I gave of them whilst you were
here. The prospect before us is daily brightening.
I mean of the future, which until of late has been
extremely gloomy. As to the present state of things,
it is far beyond my powers to give an adequate description
of it. Mr. W. C. N. begins of late to
make open advances to the federalists, fearing, no
doubt, that the bait of hypocrisy has been seen through
by others. I must again refer you to Mr. Leigh for
full information of what is going on here. The indiscretion
of some of the weaker brethren, whose
intentions, I have no doubt, were good, as you will
have perceived, has given the enemy great advantage
over us." "February 20, 1808. . . . Our friend gains ground
very fast at home. Sullivan, the Governor of Massachusetts,
has declared against M[adiso]n. The republicans
of that great State are divided on the question,
and if Clay be not deceived, who says that
Pennsylvania, Duane non obstante, will be decidedly
for the V[ice] P[resident], the S[ecretary] of S[tate]
has no chance of being elected. Impress this, I pray
you, on our friends. If the V. P.'s interest should
be best, our electors (in case we succeed) will not
hazard everything by a division. If the election
comes to the House of Representatives M[adiso]n is
the man." "I am really afraid that our friend R. will injure
himself with the nation in this way. An attempt is
now making, and will, I think, be continued, to impress
on the minds of the people that he speaks with a
view to waste time. If this opinion should prevail, it
will, I fear, injure not only him, but the nation also,
because what injures him in public estimation will injure
the people also. His talents and honesty cannot
be lost without a loss equal to them both, and they
cannot be ascertained. But you know him as well as
I do." "Georgetown, February 14, 1811. . . . For
some days past I have been attending the debates in
the Senate. Giles made this morning the most unintelligible
speech on the subject of the Bank of the
U. S. that I ever heard. He spoke upwards of two
hours, seemed never to understand himself (except
upon one commonplace topic, of British influence),
and consequently excited in his hearers no other sentiment
but pity or disgust. But I shall not be surprised
to see him puffed in all the newspapers of a
certain faction. The Senate have rejected the nomination
of Alex. Wolcott to the bench of the Supreme
Court, — 24 to 9. The President is said to have felt
great mortification at this result. The truth seems
to be that he is President de jure only. Who exercises
the office de facto I know not, but it seems
agreed on all hands that there is something behind
the throne greater than the throne itself. I cannot
help differing with you respecting [Gallatin]'s resignation.
If his principal will not support him by his
influence against the cabal in the ministry itself as
well as out of it, a sense of self-respect, it would seem
to me, ought to impel him to retire from a situation
where, with a tremendous responsibility, he is utterly
destitute of power. Our cabinet presents a novel
spectacle in the political world; divided against itself,
and the most deadly animosity raging between its
principal members, what can come of it but confusion,
mischief, and ruin! Macon is quite out of heart. I
am almost indifferent to any possible result. Is this
wisdom or apathy? I fear the latter." The habits of intimacy which have
existed between us make it, as I conceive, my duty to
inform you that reports are industriously circulated in
this city to your disadvantage. They are to this effect:
That in order to promote your election to the Chief
Magistracy of the Commonwealth you have descended
to unbecoming compliances with the members of the
Assembly, not excepting your bitterest personal enemies;
that you have volunteered explanations to them
of the differences heretofore subsisting between yourself
and administration which amount to a dereliction
of the ground which you took after your return
from England, and even of your warmest personal
friends. Upon this, although it is unnecessary for
me to pass a comment, yet it would be disingenuous
to conceal that it has created unpleasant sensations
not in me only, but in others whom I know you
justly ranked as among those most strongly attached
to you. I wished for an opportunity of mentioning
this subject to you, but none offered itself, and I
would not seek one, because, when I cannot afford
assistance to my friends, I will never consent to become
an incumbrance on them. I write in haste, and
therefore abruptly. I keep no copy, and have only
to enjoin on you that this communication is in the
strictest sense of the term confidential, solely for your
own eye. I have purposely delayed answering
your letters because you seem to have taken up the
idea that I labored under some excitement (of an
angry nature it is to be presumed from the expressions
employed in your communication to Colonel
Taylor, as well as in that to myself), and I was desirous
that my reply should in appearance as well as in
fact proceed from the calmest and most deliberate exercise
of my judgment. By you
I would be understood; whether the herd of mankind
comprehend me or not, I care not. Yourself,
the Speaker, and Bryan are, of all the world, alone
acquainted with my real situation. On that subject I
have only to ask that you will preserve the same reserve
that I have done. Do not misunderstand me,
my good friend. I do not doubt your honor or discretion.
Far from it. But on this subject I am, perhaps,
foolishly fastidious. God bless you, my noble
fellow. I shall ever hold you most dear to my heart." | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 5 | Author: | Stowe
Harriet Beecher
1811-1896 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Uncle Tom's cabin, or, Life among the lowly | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | Late in the afternoon of a chilly day in February, two
gentlemen were sitting alone over their wine, in a well-furnished
dining parlor, in the town of P—, in Kentucky.
There were no servants present, and the gentlemen, with
chairs closely approaching, seemed to be discussing some
subject with great earnestness. “Ran away from the subscriber, my mulatto boy, George. Said George
six feet in height, a very light mulatto, brown curly hair; is very intelligent,
speaks handsomely, can read and write; will probably try to pass
for a white man; is deeply scarred on his back and shoulders; has been
branded in his right hand with the letter H. “Executor's Sale, — Negroes! — Agreeably to order of court, will
be sold, on Tuesday, February 20, before the Court-house door, in the
town of Washington, Kentucky, the following negroes: Hagar, aged 60;
John, aged 30; Ben, aged 21; Saul, aged 25; Albert, aged 14. Sold for
the benefit of the creditors and heirs of the estate of Jesse Blutchford, Esq. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 6 | Author: | Stowe
Harriet Beecher
1811-1896 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Uncle Tom's cabin, or, Life among the lowly | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | “Tom, you need n't get me the horses. I don't want to
go,” she said. “I feel somewhat at a loss, as to my future course. True,
as you have said to me, I might mingle in the circles of the
whites, in this country, my shade of color is so slight, and
that of my wife and family scarce perceptible. Well,
perhaps, on sufferance, I might. But, to tell you the truth,
I have no wish to. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 7 | Author: | Taylor
Bayard
1825-1878 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | John Godfrey's fortunes, related by himself | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | I was sitting at the front window, buried, chin-deep, in
the perusal of “Sandford and Merton,” when I heard the
latch of the gate click. Looking up, I saw that it was only
Neighbor Niles, coming, as usual, in her sun-bonnet, with
her bare arms wrapped in her apron, for a chat with
mother. I therefore resumed my reading, for Neighbor
Niles always burst into the house without knocking, and
mother was sure to know who it was by the manner in
which the door opened. I had gotten as far into the book
as the building of the Robinson-Crusoe hut, and one half
of my mind speculated, as I read, whether a similar hut
might not be constructed in our garden, in the corner
between the snowball-bush and Muley's stable. Bob Simmons
would help me, I was sure; only it was scarcely possible
to finish it before winter, and then we could n't live
in it without a fireplace and a chimney. “My dear Brother, — Yours of the 10th is received.
I am now so accustomed to your sarcastic style, that I always
know what to expect when I open one of your epistles.
I wish you joy of your — well, I must say our new
cousin, though I am sorry you did not let me know of the
discovery before telling him. He must be gauche and unpresentable
in a degree; but then, I suppose, there 's no
likelihood of his ever getting into our set. It is time your
schooling was finished, so that I might have you for awhile as
my chevalier. Between ourselves, I 'm rather tired of going
about with” (here the word “Mamma” had evidently been
written and then blotted out) “Mrs. Penrose. Not but
what she continues to improve, — only, I am never certain
of her not committing some niaiserie, which quite puts me
out. However, she behaves well enough at home, and I
hope you will overcome your prejudice in the end, for my
sake. When you know as much about Society as I do, you
will see that it 's always best to smooth over what 's irrevocable.
People are beginning to forget the scandal, since
that affair of Denbigh has given them something else to
talk about. We were at Mrs. Delane's ball on Wednesday;
I made her put on blue cut velvet, and she did not
look so bad. Mrs. Vane nodded, and of course she was
triumphant. I think Papa gives me the credit for all that
has been done, — I 'm sure I deserve it. It 's a race between
Mrs. P. and myself which shall have the new India
shawl at Stokes's; but I shall get it, because Mrs. P. knows
that I could teach her to blunder awfully as well as to behave
correctly, and would do it, in spite of Papa's swearing,
if she drives me to desperation. By the by, he has just
come into the room, and says, `You are writing to the cub,
as usual, I suppose, Matilda.' So there you have him, to
the life.” “Respected Friend, I recd. your favor in which you informed
me that you was getting on so well and gave the
other as you directed. Thought it best to wait for the
other's answer, though there is no particular news. Sep
Bratton goes to The Buck every day, and there 's high
goings on between him and the squire. Your friend Mr.
Rand was there again. People say the squire is speculating
about Pottsville, and will cut up pretty fat some day, which
is no business of mine, but thought you might like to hear.
We are all well, and mother and Sue says remember me to
him. I guess Ben and her is satisfied with one another,
but you need not say I told you. There is a mistress at
the school this summer, a right smart young woman, her
name is Lavina Wilkins. And hoping these few lines will
find you enjoying good health, I remain, “Dear John,” (there were volumes of withheld confession
for me in that one adjective): — Towards the end of May the important book appeared.
I am sure that no immortal work was ever watched, through
its different processes of incarnation, with such tender
solicitude. I lingered over the first proofs, the revised
proofs, and the printed and folded sheets, with a proud,
luxurious interest, and the final consummation — the little
volume, bound and lettered — was so precious that I could
have kissed the leaves one by one. It seemed incredible
that the “John Godfrey” on the title-page really meant
myself! A book for me had hitherto possessed a sublime,
mystical individuality of its own, and this, which had grown
beneath my hand, by stages of manufacture as distinctly
material as those which go to the formation of a shoe or a
stove, was now to be classed among those silent, eloquent
personalities! It might be placed side by side with “Paradise
Lost” or “Childe Harold,” on book-shelves; who could
tell whither chance or fortune might not carry it, or what
young and burning lips it might not help unseal? “I have judged you unjustly, and treated you rudely,
Mr. Godfrey. If I have not forfeited the right to make
reparation, or you have not lost the desire to receive it,
will you call upon me to-morrow evening, at Mrs. Deering's,
and oblige “I will come. “Respd. Nephew, — I take my Pen in hand to inform
you that Me and your aunt Peggy are injoying good Health
and Those Blessings which the Lord Vouchsafes to us. It
is a long Time since we have heard anything of you, but
suppose you are still ingaged in the same Occupation as at
first, and hence direct accordingly, hoping these few Lines
may come Safely to hand. “The news contained in your letter of the 7th was quite
unexpected, but none the less welcome, for your sake as
well as my own. While I still think that the disposal of
my little property ought to have been left to myself, I
cheerfully acquit you of any intention to do me wrong, and
to show that I not only bear no malice, but am willing to
retract my hasty insinuations against your character, I will
accept your proffered hospitality when I visit Reading.
You may expect me within the next four or five days. “My Dear John, — I know why you have not written
to me. In fact I knew, months ago, (through Deering,)
what was coming, and had conquered whatever soreness
was left in my heart. Fortunately my will is also strong
in a reflective sense, and I am, moreover, no child to lament
over an irretrievable loss. I dare say the future will
make it up to me, in some way, if I wait long enough. At
any rate, you won't object, my dear old fellow, to have me
say — not that I wish you happiness, for you have it, but —
that you deserve your double fortune. The other item I
picked up from a newspaper; you might have written me
that. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 8 | Author: | Thorpe
Thomas Bangs
1815-1878 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The master's house | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | There is not a more charming town in New England, than
Malden, so celebrated, and so widely known for its intelligent
population, its interesting traditions, and its most excellent
seat of learning. Dear Sir,—I understand you desire to purchase some
valuable house servants. I have one or two that I would
part with, if the trade could be made privately, and treated
by you as confidential. I will be at the cross roads, near
the old brick kiln, precisely at five o'clock, where we can
hold conversation unobserved. Dear Sir,—I have been informed that you wish to
purchase a few first class house-servants; I have two that
I would part with, for less than their real value, if you can
manage to get them in your possession, without giving
their owners the pain of going through the separation.
They have been carefully raised, and would not be sold, if
their owners were not conscientiously impressed that their
condition would not be improved, if they were set free. I
shall be at your hotel at eleven o'clock to-day, and shall
proceed at once to your room, to avoid the suspicion among
the neighbors, that I am contemplating selling. You will
consider our communications in honor, and trust they will
be so treated. Sur,—I've got an old negro woman as wants to be sold,
and go to Mobeel, in the State of Mississip'. I wouldn't
sell her, if she didn't want to go down to that South country
to see her children, as is owned by Mister Brownlaw,
who, when he tuck the children, was to buy the old ooman,
but didn't have the money, an hasn't sent for her 'cordin'
to contract. I will sel her for two hundred and fifty, and
I think Brownlaw will give you four hundred on his place,
as her son is a carpenter, and I'm told he thinks a heap
of him, as he can earn five dollars a day, making bridges
on the rale rode. Please say nothing about this, and drop
in at my house in the evening, when nobody is about, on
the Sandy-hill road, f'ur miles from Colesburg, near the
ruins of the old church, with a sign over the door, with
my name painted on it. Dear Sir,—I understood last evening, after church
was out, that you had come on here to obtain a few choice
servants. I have long since been forced to the conclusion,
that slavery is a moral evil, and I have rejoiced that I
have parted with the few I have owned, to humane masters,
which is a great relief to me, in my hours of serious
reflection. I have one girl that has been carefully brought
up, and we are much attached to her, but I am somewhat
advanced in years, as well as her mistress, and we cannot
tell at what time she may, in the course of Providence, be
thrown without a protector, upon the wide, wicked world.
I had determined not to sell her, but seeing you in church
the other day, I have become deeply impressed that you
12*
are a pious man, and as such, would deal justly with the
girl. I have also reflected, that whatever may be my
sense of duty, the excitement at the North has been so
great, that it makes it perfectly impossible for me to carry
out my original intention, of setting the girl free, as I
cannot conceive a more dreadful condition, than for a once
comfortably clothed and well taken care of negro slave, to
be thrown upon the tender mercies of the uncharitable
world, and be left, as are the poor white laborers of the
free States, to starve, and die a miserable death. It
would be difficult to get the girl's consent to be sold, and
therefore this matter must be delicately arranged; she
will no doubt, at first, be much grieved, but we must judge
what is best for her welfare, ourselves, for we know how to
provide for her real good. The girl is nearly nineteen years
of age. Address “Humanity,” through the post-office,
and say where a strictly private interview may be had. Of
course this communication will be considered confidential.
I trust I may sign myself, in the bonds of brotherly love, “Dear Sir: I received your favor, desiring me to state my opinion of the
value of M. Guénon's `Treatise on Milch Cows,' translated from the French....
I immediately commenced the study and application of his method to every cow
that came under my observation. I have examined more than one hundred cows,
and, after carefully marking their escutcheons. I have become satisfied that M.
Guénon's discovery is one of great merit, and can be relied upon as true. I have
no doubt that I can judge very nearly as to the quantity and quality of the milk
any cow will give at the height of her flow, and also the time she will continue
in milk after being with calf. “I have read with great satisfaction M. Guénon's work on Milch Cows, by
which one can judge by certain infallible signs the milking qualities of the animal.
I have compared the marks he gives for his first-grade Flanders cow, and find
they correspond with the escutcheon of my favorite Devon cow `Ellen,' that has
taken the first premium at two cattle-shows of the American Institute. My farmer
has great faith in M. Guénon's work, and so has one of my neighbors, a knowing
Scotch milkman, who keeps fifty cows. He says that, after careful examination,
he places confidence in these marks, and they will govern him in his future
purchases. I shall hereafter make my selection of the calves I will raise from
my choice stocks from the marks given by this author. I think every farmer
should own this work. “Having had experience in raising cows, I was pleased to find a treatise on the
subject by M. Guénon, of Libourne, in France—which I procured and carefully
studied. I think the book more worthy of attention than I believe it has received.
I found that his marks of the particular classes and orders of cows agree with
nearly all I have had an opportunity to examine. It is easy to ascertain, after
studying this book, to which class and order almost every cow belongs, which,
as a guide in purchasing milch cows, or of safely deciding which to keep, before
we have had time or opportunity to test their qualities as milkers, will far more
than repay the price of the book, and the time necessary to a clear understanding
of it. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 12 | Author: | Willis
Nathaniel Parker
1806-1867 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Fun-jottings, or, Laughs I have taken a pen to | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | “Where art thou, bridegroom of my soul? Thy Ione S—
calls to thee from the aching void of her lonely spirit! What
name bearest thou? What path walkest thou? How can I,
glow-worm like, lift my wings and show thee my lamp of guiding
love? Thus wing I these words to thy dwelling-place (for thou
art, perhaps, a subscriber to the M—r). Go—truants!
Rest not till ye meet his eye. “Dear Tom: If your approaching nuptials are to be sufficiently
public to admit of a groomsman, you will make me the happiest
of friends by selecting me for that office. “Dear Phil: The devil must have informed you of a secret
I supposed safe from all the world. Be assured I should have
chosen no one but yourself to support me on the occasion; and
however you have discovered my design upon your treasure, a
thousand thanks for your generous consent. I expected no less
from your noble nature. “Sir: I am intrusted with a delicate commission, which I
know not how to broach to you, except by simple proposal.
Will you forgive my abrupt brevity, if I inform you, without further
preface, that the Countess Nyschriem, a Polish lady of high
birth and ample fortune, does you the honor to propose for your
hand. If you are disengaged, and your affections are not irrevocably
given to another, I can conceive no sufficient obstacle to
your acceptance of this brilliant connexion. The countess is
twenty-two, and not beautiful, it must in fairness be said; but
she has high qualities of head and heart, and is worthy of any
man's respect and affection. She has seen you, of course, and
conceived a passion for you, of which this is the result. I am
directed to add, that should you consent, the following conditions
are imposed—that you marry her within four days, making no
inquiry except as to her age, rank, and property, and that, without
previous interview, she come veiled to the altar. “You will pardon me that I have taken two days to consider
the extraordinary proposition made me in your letter. The subject,
since it is to be entertained a moment, requires, perhaps,
still further reflection—but my reply shall be definite, and as
prompt as I can bring myself to be, in a matter so important. “On a summer morning, twelve years ago, a chimney sweep,
after doing his work and singing his song, commenced his descent.
It was the chimney of a large house, and becoming embarrassed
among the flues, he lost his way and found himself on the hearth
of a sleeping-chamber occupied by a child. The sun was just
breaking through the curtains of the room, a vacated bed showed
that some one had risen lately, probably the nurse, and the
sweep, with an irresistible impulse, approached the unconscious
little sleeper. She lay with her head upon a round arm buried
in flaxen curls, and the smile of a dream on her rosy and parted
lips. It was a picture of singular loveliness, and something in
the heart of that boy-sweep, as he stood and looked upon the
child, knelt to it with an agony of worship. The tears gushed to
his eyes. He stripped the sooty blanket from his breast, and
looked at the skin white upon his side. The contrast between
his condition and that of the fair child sleeping before him brought
the blood to his blackened brow with the hot rush of lava. He
knelt beside the bed on which she slept, took her hand in his
sooty grasp, and with a kiss upon the white and dewy fingers,
poured his whole soul with passionate earnestness into a resolve. “You will recognize my handwriting again. I have little to
say—for I abandon the intention I had formed to comment on
your apparent preference. Your happiness is in your own hands.
Circumstances which will be explained to you, and which will
excuse this abrupt forwardness, compel me to urge you to an immediate
choice. On your arrival at home, you will meet me in
your father's house, where I shall call to await you. I confess,
tremblingly, that I still cherish a hope. If I am not deceived—
if you can consent to love me—if my long devotion is to be rewarded—take
my hand when you meet me. That moment will
decide the value of my life. But be prepared also to name
another, if you love him—for there is a necessity, which I cannot
11
explain to you till you have chosen your husband, that this choice
should be made on your arrival. Trust and forgive one who has
so long loved you!” I have not written to you in your boy's lifetime—that fine lad,
a shade taller than yourself, whom I sometimes meet at my
tailor's and bootmaker's. I am not very sure, that after the first
month (bitter month) of your marriage, I have thought of you
for the duration of a revery—fit to be so called. I loved you—
lost you—swore your ruin and forgot you—which is love's climax
when jilted. And I never expected to think of you again. Start fair, my sweet Violet! This letter will lie on your
table when you arrive at Saratoga, and it is intended to prepare
you for that critical campaign. You must know the ammunition
with which you go into the field. I have seen service, as you
know, and from my retirement (on half-pay), can both devise
strategy and reconnoitre the enemy's weakness, with discretion.
Set your glass before you on the table, and let us hold a frank
council of war. My dear Widow: For the wear and tear of your bright eyes
in writing me a letter you are duly credited. That for a real
half-hour, as long as any ordinary half-hour, such well-contrived
illuminations should have concentrated their mortal using on me
only, is equal, I am well aware, to a private audience of any two
stars in the firmament—eyelashes and petticoats (if not thrown
in) turning the comparison a little in your favor. Thanks—of
course—piled high as the porphyry pyramid of Papantla! My dear neph-ling: I congratulate you on the attainment
of your degree as “Master of Arts.” In other words, I wish
the sin of the Faculty well repented of, in having endorsed upon
parchment such a barefaced fabrication. Put the document in
your pocket, and come away! There will be no occasion to air
it before doomsday, probably, and fortunately for you, it will then
revert to the Faculty. Quiescat adhuc—as I used to say of my
tailor's bills till they came through a lawyer. All asleep around me, dear Ernest, save the birds and insects
to whom night is the time for waking. The stars and they are
the company of such lovers of the thought-world as you and I,
and, considering how beautiful night is, nature seems to have arranged
it for a gentler and loftier order of beings, who alternate
the conscious possession of the earth with those who wake by day.
Shall we think better of ourselves for joining this nightingale
troop, or is it (as I sometimes dread) a culpable shunning of the
positive duties which belong to us as creatures of sunshine?
Alas! this is but one of many shapes in which the same thought
comes up to trouble me! In yielding to this passion for solitude
—in communing, perhaps selfishly, with my own thoughts, in preference
to associating with friends and companions—in writing,
spiritually though it be, to you, in preference to thinking tenderly
of him—I seem to myself to be doing wrong. Is it so? Can I
divide my two natures, and rightfully pour my spirit's reserve
freely out to you, while I give to him who thinks me all his own,
only the every-day affection which he seems alone to value? Yet
the best portion of my nature would be unappreciated else—the
noblest questionings of my soul would be without response—the
world I most live in would be utterly lonely. I fear to decide
the question yet. I am too happy in writing to you. I will defer
it, at least, till I have sounded the depths of the well of angels
from which I am now quenching my thirst—till I know all the joy
and luxury which, it seems to me, the exchange of these innermost
breathings of the soul can alone give. You refuse to let me once rest my eyes upon you. I can
understand that there might be a timidity in the first thought of
meeting one with whom you had corresponded without acquaintance,
but it seems to me that a second thought must remind you
how much deeper and more sacred than “acquaintance,” our
interchange of sympathies has been. Why, dear Ermengarde,
you know me better than those who see me every day. My
most intimate companion knows me less. Even she to whom I,
perhaps, owe all confidence, and who might weep over the reservation
of what I have shared with you, had she the enlargement
of soul to comprehend it—even she knows me but as a child
knows the binding of a book, while you have read me well.
Why should you fear to let me once take your features into my
memory, that this vague pain of starry distance and separation
may be removed or lessened? | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 13 | Author: | Evans
Augusta J.
(Augusta Jane)
1835-1909 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | St. Elmo | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | HE stood and measured the earth: and the ever
lasting mountains were scattered, the perpetual
hills did bow.” “Madam: In reply to your very extraordinary request
I have the honor to inform you, that my time is so entirely
consumed by necessary and important claims, that I find no
leisure at my command for the examination of the embryonic
chapter of a contemplated book. I am, madam, “Miss Earl: I return your MS., not because it is devoid
of merit, but from the conviction that were I to accept it,
the day would inevitably come when you would regret its
premature publication. While it contains irrefragable evidence
of extraordinary ability, and abounds in descriptions
of great beauty, your style is characterized by more strength
than polish, and is marred by crudities which a dainty public
would never tolerate. The subject you have undertaken
is beyond your capacity—no woman could successfully handle
it—and the sooner you realize your over-estimate of your
powers, the sooner your aspirations find their proper level,
the sooner you will succeed in your treatment of some theme
better suited to your feminine ability. Burn the inclosed
MS., whose erudition and archaisms would fatally nauseate
the intellectual dyspeptics who read my `Maga,' and write
sketches of home-life—descriptions of places and things that
you understand better than recondite analogies of ethical
creeds and mythologic systems, or the subtle lore of Coptic
priests. Remember that women never write histories nor
epics; never compose oratorios that go sounding down the
centuries; never paint `Last Suppers' and `Judgment Days;'
though now and then one gives to the world a pretty ballad
that sounds sweet and soothing when sung over a cradle,
or another paints a pleasant little genre sketch which will
hang appropriately in some quiet corner, and rest and refresh
eyes that are weary with gazing at the sublime spiritualism
of Fra Bartolomeo, or the gloomy grandeur of Salvator
Rosa. If you have any short articles which you desire
to see in print, you may forward them, and I will select any
for publication, which I think you will not blush to acknowledge
in future years. “My Dear Edna: I could not sleep last night in consequence
of your unfortunate resolution, and I write to beg
you, for my sake if not for your own, to reconsider the matter.
I will gladly pay you the same salary that you expect
to receive as governess, if you will remain as my companion
and assistant at Le Bocage. I can not consent to give
you up; I love you too well, my child, to see you quit my
house. I shall soon be an old woman, and then what would
I do without my little orphan girl? Stay with me always,
and you shall never know what want and toil and hardship
mean. As soon as you are awake, come and kiss me good-morning,
and I shall know that you are my own dear, little
Edna. “Edna: I send for your examination the contents of
the little tomb, which you guarded so faithfully. Read
the letters written before I was betrayed. The locket attached
to a ribbon was always worn over my heart, and
the miniatures which it contains, are those of Agnes Hunt
and Murray Hammond. Read all the record, and then
judge me, as you hope to be judged. I sit alone, amid the
mouldering, blackened ruins of my youth; will you not listen
to the prayer of my heart, and the half-smothered pleadings
of your own, and come to me in my desolation, and help
me to build up a new and noble life? O my darling!
you can make me what you will. While you read and ponder,
I am praying! Aye, praying for the first time in twenty
years! praying that if God ever hears prayer, He will influence
your decision, and bring you to me. Edna, my dar
ling! I wait for you. “To the mercy of God, and the love of Christ, and the
judgment of your own conscience, I commit you. Henceforth
we walk different paths, and after to-night, it is my
wish that we meet no more on earth. Mr. Murray, I can
not lift up your darkened soul; and you would only drag
mine down. For your final salvation, I shall never cease
to pray, till we stand face to face, before the Bar of God. “My Darling: Will you not permit me to see you
before you leave the parsonage? Knowing the peculiar
circumstances that brought you back, I can not take advantage
of them and thrust myself into your presence
without your consent. I have left home to-day, because I
felt assured that, much as you might desire to see `Le
Bocage,' you would never come here while there was a possibility
of meeting me. You, who know something of my
wayward, sinful, impatient character, can perhaps imagine
what I suffer, when I am told that your health is wrecked,
that you are in the next room, and yet, that I must not,
shall not see you—my own Edna! Do you wonder that I
almost grow desperate at the thought that only a wall—a
door—separates me from you, whom I love better than my
life? O my darling! Allow me one more interview!
Do not make my punishment heavier than I can bear. It
is hard—it is bitter enough to know that you can not, or
will not trust me; at least let me see your dear face again.
Grant me one hour—it may be the last we shall ever spend
together in this world. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
|
