Nicholas P. Trist to Virginia Jefferson Randolph (Trist)
Plantation, February 18th 1824. |
With sincere contrition, my own dearest Virginia, I acknowledge my departure from those rules of conduct which I have so often recommended to you. But, believe me, though I have acted most foolishly, my conscience does not reproach me with having harbored any resentment against you. Had I given the subject the reflexion which was due to it, I should have perceived that there were other and better methods of encreasing your activity as a correspondent than the one I adopted. Your disposition was a sure pledge that a remonstrance on the subject would have put an end to the remissness I had to complain of; and I sincerely regret having adopted any other course. But, I hope this is our last quarrel! So let us say no more about it.—As a parting word, however, let me remark that by quoting Miss Edgeworth’s warnning that “departing love is never recalled by the voice of reproach,” you acted in direct opposition to the advice conveyed by it. If I were of a disposition to get seriously angry with the most beloved object of my affections, what reproach could be more calculated to make me so than the one contained in that word?—one observation more! You did not hear from me in all november; and were afterwards five weeks without receiving a line! I am sure I never suffered so much time to pass without writing; and that the mails have had no small share in this. as I before mentioned to Ellen, your letter of the 9th December, arrived after one of the 16th, and hers of the 22d. Some of mine may have met with a similar, or worse fate. à propos of this letter of the 16th Decr what was the meaning of the piece of blank paper enclosed in it?— I should make but a poor Œdipus.—
Since our removal here, I have been almost constantly out of doors, playing the farmer. Lending a hand in the breaking of horses and mules, as wild as deer, attending to the digging of ditches and repairing of fences, and getting the negroes into the conviction that they have not come here to be sold, and will not be permitted to neglect their duties. Strict vigilance at the outset, always saves a great deal of trouble, and almost entirely supersedes the necessity of punishment.—Mr Penny directs, but will not superintend until our force is sufficient to justify his devoting his time to it: he intends to fix his residence here however next year.— Such is the estimation in which he is held, that he has had several invitations lately to take charge of estates with very high salaries attached to them. Among others, General Hampton, [. . .] in whose employ he has already been, has is very anxious to have him; and has offered him two and a half per cent on the revenues of his estates in this neighborhood; which, under good management, ought to produce from eighty to a hundred thousand dollars a year.—He mentioned to me the other day that he was told by Genl Hampton that his brother, whom he has lost sight of for a great many years, was in the had been in the employ of your father. What has become of him?—
I am confident now, dearest Virginia, of being with you in the course of the ensuing summer.—Browse remains here until he can afford to go to New-orleans; which will, I fear, not be before a year or two. This detention is not however of much consiquence; as he long ago determined not to go to the bar early, and he can pursue his studies here with more regularity if with fewer other advantages, than he could in town.—He promises to come and see us often, when we shall have mended our fortunes. Our expectation that two or three years will operate a great change in them, is not, I think, unreasonable; and though straitened, at the moment, I entertain sanguine hopes that the term of our partnership will find us in independent circumstances.—If the sale of the highlands could be affected, all sollicitude on the subject would be at an end.
I have been so hurried of late, that I neglected mentioning a visit we lately had at Donaldsonville from far more interesting personages than the ventriloquist you speak of.—It was from the Lewises; to judge from the little I saw of them, one of the most charming families of children I ever saw beheld.—They gave us two concerts, in the village ball-room. The last was on Saturday, (the ball night); and as the yahoos came flocking in, & manifested a great impatience to begin knocking their heels together, the concert ended sooner than it was to have done. This boorish interruption however, was the cause of my passing one of the most delightful soirées it is possible to imagine.—How much more would you have enjoyed it! and how often did I wish the musicians were in the parlor at Monticello, instead of being where they were.—But, to resume; it was proposed to give Mr Lewis a supper: before and after which he, on the violin and his two eldest sons on the harp & violincello treated us to a repast more delicious than nectar & ambrosia. The musette, Auld Lang Syne, Ah vous dirai-je, &c &c—But the most delightful of all to me, was “Planxty Kelly” (the air of “& fly not yet”) on the harp by Philip Lewis.—Now, notes that the buzzing of a fly would have drowned, clear and liquid as those of a musical seal; and now a sweep worthy of Carolan himself.—The three boys play on the harp, piano, violin and violincello.—Philip, (the eldest) is already an excellent musician. His father related to me that when they were last in New York, Coleman, the editor of the evening post, having heard a musician observe that the performance of those children was admirable, but that it was impossible they should be such musicians as it was pretended they were, came out with an advertisement, stating that an admirer of these juvenile performers had deposited a thousand dollars in his hands, with a challenge to any musician who pleased, to make a trial of strength with Philip at first sight.—Two frenchmen, the best violins in the U.S. were then in New York.—It was expected they would take up the challenge. Every thing was on tiptoe for the approaching concert. Seven hundred persons attended; but no competitor appeared.—A person just from London, brought however a piece of music which had been lately played there at a very select concert.—Philip played it to the satisfaction of all the musicians present.—He has been repeatedly tried; and is pronounced on all hands to have more facility in reading music at first sight, than any musician they know.—What a charming accomplishment.—I wish I had been bound to such a master from my fifth to my tenth year; and that you had such a one to make you take lessons every day.—I have heard a Spanish guitar; and like it very much; indeed it is the only one which appears to me to have any music in it.—I am glad you have found something to support your voice: For though I never perceived it to be cracked, I will allow that your bashfulness, which on this subject deserves the [. . .] name of mauvaise honte, renders it weak.—I expect that your voice will avail itself of this new friend; and that they will be intimate by the time I [. . .] return. Confidently expecting that the term of my exile is fast approaching, I remain dearest Virginia, so far as my feelings can make me so, worthy of your Love.
Continue to direct to Donaldsonville. My health is very good, tho’ I still continue to be of the snipe species.—