Nicholas P. Trist to Virginia J. Randolph (Trist)
| My dearest Love & best friend | La-fourche November 19th 1822. |
I have been so poorly both in body and mind until within a couple of days back, as not to have had energy to obey the inclination of to answer your last letter, which was brought me the same day mine went to the office.—I will not try to conceal it from you, Virginia; I am not happy; nor could I be so, when I find that the prospect of embracing you next spring, the prospect upon which my heart has been living for the last twelve month, [. . .] and which I have been in such perfect confidence of realising, is blasted.—my The fears that I expressed to mother, were but too well founded; the loss of the crop has added so much to the embarrassments of the estate, that until it is sold, I shall not have any money at my disposal but what I borrow; and that, you know is far from the line I have traced out to myself, unless it be on some unavoidable occasion, such as the payment of a debt,—To borrow money for the purpose of leaving my affairs in their present unsettled state, would be acting without prudence, and doing injustice to you as well as to myself; so, my well beloved Girl, I must e’en submit; and for a time, content myself with the picture of you which I carry in my heart; and the [. . .] melancholy pleasure of recalling to my remembrance those moments which I have spent by your side. If you could only have an opportunity of sitting for your portrait! as you love me, Virginia, do not let slip any chance; though recollect, I do not want a daub.
You have made me feel much better myself, by informing me of the change which has taken place in your health, and our dearest mother’s customary complaint.—The improvement in you, makes me hope for a corresponding one in Ellen, as she has the same hand to help her, that has so successfully conducted you to the Hygeian Spring. I almost wish I was under your Dr myself: ours, though a man well skilled in all the diseases of the country, is one of those characters who thinks it either unnecessary, or beneath him, to prescribe unless his patient is on his back, ready to give up the ghost; Then his exertions are great; and his success corresponds with them: but I am not die dying, and he leaves me to recover strength as well as I can.—My sole complaint is debility, to which my feelings furnish sufficient evidence; but regular nightly perspirations serve both to [. . .] add to the proof and continue the evil. otherwise I have nothing to tax my system with, which appears at last to have got into good order. My head is not clear enough as yet, (for it amused itself again, beating the bushes, during my last fever) to bear any thing stronger than a novel, or a play, or [. . .] some short essay: besides, I am tired of reading Law, without having any one to converse with, or ask a question of, on the subject: no court either, where I might learn somewhat of the practice. although this is not very encouraging, do not believe that there is any disposition in me to give up the ship; on the contrary, as soon as I am well, I shall study harder than ever.
If you have never read Burns’ prose, you have a pleasure to come. I have his works; and we will read his letters together: they have, as I dare say you know already, been pronounced to be still more remarkable than his poetry. A Soul dictated them, such as few men have to boast of; and which from this circumstance, the unfrequency of fellows, seems to be a curse rather than a blessing on this earth; and above all, when its possessor is not independent of the creatures around him.—Now that you are well, do every thing in your power, my dearest Virginia, to remain so; ride when you you can; walk, you can always [. . .]—preserve yourself for your own devoted
My not returning next spring as I expected to, will render an answer necessary to the letter I wrote Jefferson some months since. Ask mother to mention this to him, and to present at the same time my affectionate Salutations to him and his wife.—I had almost forgot to tell you that [. . .] We have just had a visit from Colo Nicholas, which Browse and myself propose returning shortly. When the servant told us that an american gentleman asking for me had called to be crossed, I was utterly at a loss to conceive who it could be, and in the impatience of my curiosity, walked down to the ferry: but by the time I got there he was over, [. . .] had taken another road to the house; where, though I was very glad to see the Col, My disappointment was not small; for my conjectures had fixed on some one else. However, be this as it may, we spent a very agreeable evening; conversing upon no other subject, of course, than the “dear little corner” which contains all my Soul holds dear: and wound it up by an argument on Baron’s case, for you must know that I am a red-hot Baronnite, in which we each exhibited some warmth.—The mould that covers my books, and the rust with which my gun is encrusted, [. . .] have several times reminded me of my pistols: dont let the least speck of rust get on them.—By the by, did Ellen get acquainted with McDuffie last winter? his speech on the army question, which is too far above the an ordinary Congress speech to be put in comparison with any of them, and his reputation for as a high-minded, chivalrous character, had interested me much in him, and the contest he has been engaged in; but, Fee, faw, fum. As to his Antagonist, he has exhibited a spirit, as far from the honorable feelings which conduct a gentleman into the field, as the north is from the South pole: A spirit of murderous envy, and thirst of blood, which I think ought to be reprobated and put down by every honest man in the country.—but, my P.S. will be as long as my letter!—Browse embraces you with the affection of my brother, and [. . .] desires his Love to the rest; [. . .] I need not say you are daily the subjects of our conversation. my best Love to our sisters. I expect a letter from our mother, every mail; but at any rate shall, write to her shortly: in the mean time, I remain her devoted Son, and my own Virginia’s own