LETTER CXXI.
Richmond, Sunday, March 20, 1814.
My dear Theodore,
I have just now received your welcome letter of the
13th, (this day week.) Surely the wise ones have made some
strange change in our mail establishment, when it takes a
week to send a letter a hundred miles. My dear son, the
state of your health, and the evident depression of your spirits,
were not unobserved by me when we met three years
ago, on the road from Washington to Baltimore. It cost me
many a heart-ach to see the ravages which a winter in Philadelphia
had made on your constitution, and natural cheerfulness.
I ascribed them, I believe, to the right cause; but as
you had not confided that cause to me, so neither did I feel
myself at liberty to inquire concerning it of others. But this
circumstance made so deep an impression on my mind, that
I felt reluctant at the thoughts of your return the next winter;
although I kept it to myself. The world has used me so
ill—yet, why blame the world? Those from whom I had a
right to expect a very different conduct, have betrayed such
shameless selfishness, so bare-faced a disregard of my feelings,
and of
my rights, that, but for you, I should sink into inveterate
misanthropy. Nature (to use a certain fashion of
speaking) intended me for something very different from what
I am. I have been ossified by a petrifying world. All life,
and spirit, and confidence, and enthusiasm: I have become
cold, suspicious, and dead to every better feeling, except
through a sort of faint remembrance of such as I formerly experienced.
But enough of this egotism.
There are two not `unknown,' but unmentioned ladies,
who have spoken of you to me in very flattering terms; the
fashionable Miss M—, and the elegant Mrs. W—. The
latter expressed her regret at being from home when you
called. Mrs. Bell often inquires after you. She is my chief
resource of female society, and reminds me of Mrs. G—!
The dignity and elegance of her pursuits, compared with the
frivolous occupations or inane indolence of our ladies, in general,
give a new charm to the beauty of her person, and the
polish of her manners. I dined there a few days ago, and
have quite overcome the coyness of little Mary Anne, who
says, "I love Mr. R." For the misses of this, our day, (always
excepting Miss Caton and Miss Barton,) I have no great
penchant; and the
notables, although very good house-keepers,
are but poor companions. By the way, do you know
that La Belle Goldsborough is Mrs. W. Fitzhugh? The bell
rings, and I must to church. The Doctor and lady return
your compliments. He is the best man in the world, and
she a very superior woman. Her understanding is masculine,
and well improved by reading: but her misfortunes (how
should they fail) have cast a sombre hue over her temper and
manners.
I shall get your shirting and mine at the same time.
Yours, ever,
JOHN RANDOLPH.
Charles Sterrett Ridgely desires to be remembered warmly
to you. "Thanks to you (he writes to me) for entirely
curing me of my military mania. I no longer pant after that
phantom, military fame; am content with my lot, and wish
only to be distinguished as an honest man, and a good citizen;
and now, that I think soberly and seriously, it is a subject
of astonishment that I should ever, for a moment, have
thought of resigning the comforts of domestic life, the society
of my wife and children, and of friends, whom I sincerely
love, to mix with the unprincipled and profligate, and to become
the slave and tool of men, whose principles I cannot but
detest; and that, too, in a cause which I consider to be most
unjust."
I am going to Bellville after church, and will leave my letter
open until I return. Mr. Parish is at Ogdensburg. He
has been there since January.
I have seen Mrs. B. She returns her acknowledgments for
your politeness. I did not see Mr. B.
