[Letter from Andrew D. Campbell of Glasgow to Elizabeth Upshur Teackle - May 1, 1800]

Glasgow 1 May 1800

Twelve months ago my charming friend Eliza, honor’d me with dedicating a part of this day, in compliance to my wishes, to friendship and to me. Auspicious day, harbinger of summer and of happiness! You can never again resolve without conveying to my mind the most delightful sensations springing from the purest source of pleasure, a knowledge of being the object of the regard of you, Eliza, for whom to give it no warmer name, since I first saw and conversed with you my heart has thrilled with the sincerest affection, and my soul been beset with the most eager solicitude to render myself worthy of your esteem and you tell me I have obtained it.

At least I draw this conclusion from a delightful letter of three sheets which I have kissed again and again as the essence of the heart of you, my friend. It is so complete an index of yourself, so pathetick and gay, so tender and animated, so mightily perfectly and what perfectly confirms me in

in its being your genuine dictates, if the former reasons had left it doubtful, are a few kind expressions to myself which some people would have been foolish enough to take as compliments, but which I feel perfectly confident are just tributes to merit.

It gives me great pleasure to find you desire me to continue to write you long letters. I fear it was an ill fated expression, for I think they would be pouring upon you soon after your putting your sign married to it. But there is now no complaining as I hold security for all trespasses committed and to be committed, until [a] revocation of your order, and if upon the pure principles of liberty, you will permit me to retaliate, write my fair friend, in endless volumes and give me endless pleasure in perusal, your accounts of all my old acquaintances interest and amuse and you have much more interesting subjects, if you chose to employ your pen more fully upon them, yourself and sister. In writing Anna ‘tother day I pressed an attack against you

and intended to have carried it on with great vigour in this for telling me so little of yourself and of your sister, and I am sure you will give me credit for great moderation in not doing so when you must be conscious of keeping me in the dark as to certain subjects of considerable magnitude. But I refrain, being in daily expectation of hearing from you with the expected communications when I shall, as all wise people do, give my sage opinion as to the subjects before me.

So you have been dashing away in Philadelphia and left the Virginia beaux to think and sigh for you. It was extremely kind in you thus to wean their hearts from their beloved object to prevent the fatal effects that must otherwise have arisen [when?] you quitted them all for Princess Anne, but you did not consider how much mischief you were doing to the inhabitants of the metropolis, and were it not savouring a little of maliciousness, I would say that I was glad to perceive you were rather disappointed at

the number of “professed beaux” who were sighing at your feet, but comfort yourself my fair friend, with the recollection that I told you long ago they were callous and cold hearted and by no means equal to the fine spirited philanthropic fiery Virginians, and however much the heads of the former may be praised. Their hearts, I am sure, never can be put in competition with those of your State. But why did you not visit my friend Mrs Liston? Particularly after the very good reason you give for intending to do so. And does speaking of me still give you pleasure? Ah Eliza, I fear you only flatter me, but why should I do so, as if I can judge of your feelings by my own, and surely I can. You must still have some emotion of pleasure when you talk of your absent friend. God grant I may not be always an absent one, altho a single ray of hope has not brightened my prospect of meeting you,

since I wrote last, we have still much time before in. When Littleton was here he flattered and tantalised the girls by talking to them of returning but to them he will never more return. His love I well know is destined for a preferable being to any in the circle of my acquaintance here, and had you lived here you would have found they appreciated his worth fully as well as in Northampton, nor would you have obtained the prize without some smart pulling of caps.¹ Return I sincerely hope he will with you as his protege to display to you the beauties of this country, natural and artificial. From the pitch of refinement, elegance, and dissipation in the metropolis to that of readiness, grandeur, and simplicity in the Highlands.

Come within ten years, and I am pretty confident you will find me a Bachelor, ready to meet you upon your landing and happy to wait upon you to whatever part of the Kingdom pleasure shall direct. I will introduce you to

my sisters who will be anxious to maintain the good opinion you already have of them and I am satisfied you will confirm the one they have of you, for it is a good and a just one. At all events, I will not give up your idea of our again meeting, nor will I believe that any thing I have yet thought or said upon the subject is wandering one step too far into the regions of fancy.

So, my dear Sally Handy has added her name to the votaries of Hymen² and with the consent of her friends. It gives me pleasure to hear of it and I hope she will be happy, altho I think she would have rendered the name of old maid most respectable and retrieved it from its character of ill nature. Still she has a much better prospect of happiness in being wife to the man she loves. But what the deuce possessed me to make this comparison, you must not give a

single hint of this tho’ I confess to you I used to think Sally quite calculated for the phenomenon. I have mentioned from her good nature, affability, wish to please, and easiness of being pleased.

I wish I resembled her a little more in these points, and I am confident it would produce more happiness both to myself and others. The Col^l, who I believe will outlive the half of the County, will no longer be afraid of those ______ Scotchmen (I can't write the other naughty word) and I sincerely hope Master Littleton has found that his old boots³ are not quite irresistible.

To a more pleasing tho’ more serious subject let me now call your attention. How does your amiable fine spirited friend Nancy Smith? I hate the name of Donnell. What is her situation, is she treated with the attention and respect due to her from her husband? Has she any family? Does she enjoy herself or is she bending under the yoke that I am conscious her heart revolted from

and to which she ought never to have submitted.

I consider all the perfections of her heart so completely useless in her union with Donnell, or rather so lost upon him, that however melancholy in many instances it might be, I would rejoice in the present to learn that, laying aside her own character, she ruled with tyrannic sway that man whom beauty, gentleness, and wisdom cannot awaken to a sense of the treasure he possesses.

I have been led into this from reflection of her worth from knowing how much you esteemed her and from conversing with a most worthy man, a Mr. Buchanan⁴ of this city, who has been sometime a resident in Baltimore, is well acquainted with her and feels keenly for her situation. He has been sometime here, and we have had many conversations relative to your friend. I hope I may call her mine also and when you see her or write to her tell

tell her how much I am interested in her and to hear of her happiness will add much to mine. Indeed, I owe it to her considering how much she, with others, contributed to make my residence in Northampton what it was.

With you, I grieve for the loss your country has sustained in the death of your great Hero. Few are the ages that produce such characters, but we shall hope, as America is yet in her infancy, that she will produce many who will emulate him. Imagination can hardly picture one to surpass him. It is also a matter of consolation to reflect that he died in the zenith of his glory, in the possession of the noblest faculties of man to his last breath, and without experiencing any of those vicissitudes to which human nature, particularly in the high ranks of life, are so subject. In how few nations do we find men distinguished by their military [and] political career who retain their honors, as Washington did while they live.

In the present day we have witnessed France beheading and exiling men of the most distinguished talents. Spain has lately put to death the Governor of Trinidad, for not defending an island which had neither men, ships nor money to render it defensible. Don Chacon has not left a braver or a better man in the Kingdom. Russia disgraced her Souvarov after he had crowned her armies with honor. Germany has expulsed the [Counsels?] of a most promising warrior. It is but of late date that Britain, to please a faction, murdered he gallant Byng and a Hastings had nearly fallen a victim to malice and misrepresentation.

This begins to savour of pedantry and I am sure I dislike it as much as you or any other Lady upon either side of the Atlantic can do, so away with it. I have a great mind to introduce to your acquaintance a young lady with whom I had a short acquaintance in winter. Formed like yourself, tall, slender, and elegant, and possessing some of those charms which distinguish you, but [my] acquaintance hitherto has been so slight that

I think I shall delay it until I have the pleasure of seeing her again, which I hope to do in the course of the summer. But will you care for a description of your counterpart? Would you not prefer an account of some dashing beau? I shall see what I can do in my travels to amuse you, and shall at least carry you over ground you never traveled before.

Among the many marks I have received of Mr. Stratton's friendship, the one you mention stands highest and while I am conscious of feeling the greatness of my obligation to him and Mr. Parker, I have sincerely to lament being the cause of disunion [where] it was never almost known before, and shall certainly write to him immediately to have my character to stand or fall according to the impressions made by my conduct while in Northampton, and to request him not to [risk] the happiness of perhaps familiars [by] too warmly exposing the cause even of a friend. To those unacquainted with me, it

must be a matter of indifference. Any thing that is said of me, you and my other friends are above being swayed by anything these said 3 can say of me.

I am extremely sorry to find I have got to the last page of the 3^rd sheet, for I have almost resolved never to indulge myself in more at one time, fearing the dreadful name of prolixity,⁵ and I have a great many things yet to write to you about. I have hardly mentioned Friend Littleton or his fair sister. Your account of his reception is most natural and amusing, and thence happy he must have been at finding so many amiable friends receiving him with the joy you describe and which he so justly merits. Altho’ to you, a little panegyric⁶ might be excusable, yet I deal so little in it and you already know so well my sentiment of him that I shall say nothing more of him.

And the unfortunate Doctor after persevering so long is likely to be thrown out at last. I would pity him if the game was worth the chace.⁷

[A.D. Campbell]