[Letter from Andrew D. Campbell to Elizabeth Upshur Teackle, September 21, 1806]

Sweethope¹ Sunday, 21 Sept, 6

Altho' my dear friend I have but an hour at present to write, while a society of my friends are at their devotions at church, I embrace it to render you my warmest thanks for your kind letter of 17^th Dec, prolonged till 28^th. Which has completely dispelled all idea of my frank and amiable friend having assumed the cold manners of reserve. Nor shall I ever again accuse you of it, hoping also, that your writing a little more frequently will acquit you of the only sin I know you possessed of. Laziness is much too strong a term. Shall I call it procrastination, but I think I hear you exclaim, by what title does friend Campbell accuse us of
laziness in answering in the 21 Septr. since of Decr last? To say that I have been much occupied is hardly an excuse but there really exists more than one good apology. It was the month of March before I received your

truly estimable epistle before me and thus intending a pretty extended excursion to England. I considered delaying answering in the hope that my trip would afford amusement sufficient that the detail would prove agreeable, at least a change from the monotony that must pervade my letters, but unfortunately the business I went to elucidate and [alone] got so much more complex and extended that it engrossed every hour and so much occupied every thought that altho’ I accompanied a sister, who paid her first visit to the metropolis to most of their scenes of gaiety, I entered not into them altho’ they were then at their zenith. With heartfelt pleasure I hailed the [home] that enabled me to quiet the perpetual [which] in which I had been kept by employment and dissipation, but after my return home a few weeks only elapsed when a most sudden and dangerous illness had very nearly sent

sent your friend and correspondent to “that Bourn from which no traveler returns."¹

A strength of constitution which I hardly thought I possessed inabled me to withstand the severity of the disease, inflammatory, and the still more severe treatment of my medical attendants who have since frankly told me they never saw any person so nearly bled to death. Sangrado² like they considered this and hot water as the grand specifics tho’ they changed his practice so far as to put me into the Hot water in place of putting it in me and I doubt much which is the most scour’d. However, in spite of all am now quite recovered in health tho’ hardly in strength. Having thus accounted for my silence, I intended offering a few words expressive of my sincere regret for the loss which you sustained of which your letter conveyed³ the first initially since, but am unwilling to hazard any thing that might

might open afresh the deep wound so great a loss must have given, and shall only say what I think you already know and will give me credit for that while I rejoice at whatever adds to your happiness you cannot feel a sorrow in which I do not sympathize.

Perhaps before this reaches you, you may have met with young Parker, our good friend, George's Brother, who is a good honest headed fellow, and whom I met several times during his medical education in Edinburgh. With him I had frequent conversations regarding my old friends in Columbia and in general [we] agreed singularly well. The Virtues of the estimable parts of the society were our most frequent themes, but of course we did not spare the vices. We also indulged in the laugh from recollection of the eccentricities of the eccentric. Your gallant Uncle and

and his puissant¹ brother. Nor was any sage counsel forgot whose ribs, the evidant Widow stands equally high in his Brother’s estimation and view. Marriage being all the fashion in your country, I found my friend Jacob had been comforting himself with the thought of making a dash in that way also upon his return, but the damsel fearing the attractions of our Northern Belles might prove too strong for [his] literally, [too] susceptible heart, would not wait. He was very miserable for a while but seemed to be getting over his unhappiness and I recommended very strongly your cousin Juliet to him, who I consider much has so long continued to elude the Matrimonial fetters. Tell me if her reluctance is similar to that of my amiable friend, your Sister Henrietta and with such examples wonder not that I should still hesitate to

to enter the bonds of Hymen.² Heigh Ho. I had lately mainly forgot my allegiance to your dear little daughter, my spouse elect, and wishing before my youthful passions are properly swallowed into domestic quiet, become one of these hum drum animals, a husband, but I think it is [over], and I believe it is better for me, at least I try to think so. Parker, if you meet him, will tell you that I am nearly the same light headed, light headed, thoughtless being you know me. Not unmindful of business, but too fond of the society of the friends, I have to interest myself much in it. Perhaps too much a votary of pleasure, with affections sometimes too ardent and passions frequently too high, you will not wonder at my frequently being much too far carried away by them.

But this is my usual egotism

in writing to you it will need be conquered. the [inspection] of my mind flows immediately to my fears and I write to you as freely as I used to speak when enjoying the pleasures of the society of you and Anne. Parker told me she sometimes still speaks of me, and that Eyre and her live in great splendour. I sincerely hope she is happy in the midst of it and regret that she is not also blessed with such a pretty little prattler as your own. How do you get on in
training her? Do you really think that ten years hence she will take a staid Gentleman of thirty eight? I got a sad blow the other day from a lady telling me she did not think a husband worth having unless he was married before 36. Teach not my little Elizabeth become such as this. You are not half particular in writing about her. You must tell me a great deal

deal more of her beauty, her good sense, her temper, &c. My friends have just returned insisting upon my riding, adieu. To stop on such an interesting subject – horrible.

Monday Morning. I again take up my pen tho’ probably but for a short time as I must soon accompany my friends to Glasgow.

I should tell you that this place where you will find my letter dated, is one of the prettiest places upon our river of Clyde. Tell Littleton it is 4 Miles nearer Glasgow than where we had a little cottage when he was in this country, close to Lord Douglas’s residence and the old celebrated castle of Bothwell. We have a most extensive view [over] the estate of Duke Hamilton’s grounds and numerous windings of the river. A dozen acres of ground most fancifully broken into hill and valley, thickly planted and containing an excellent orchard and

and beautiful garden, employ all the leisure hours I can spare from the city and from business. Here, especially upon Saturday, I retire and with a few friends enjoy life as much as possible. The country abounds with game and tho’ not much of a Sportsman myself, my visitors have all varieties of it. Lastly, though not least, certainly there are there, pretty, lively, and rich young girls within pistol shot with whom I contrive to flirt a good deal. Should you come to Scotland I trust you will find this the most agreeable place in it. Surely it will not be my fault in at least in endeavoring to make it so. I hope the Squire will soon be rich enough to dash you over half the globe and considering how very contracted our span of existence is, the sooner the better. Let not Washington City contain all your affections.

Good God how enraged

your countrymen will be when they see the last publication of Anacreon Moore,who is the most unmerciful Satirist of them and of their country that ever wrote.³ His descriptions of the city of W. I will copy if I can get time.

The Newspapers have rung lately with an account of a duel intended to be fought by him and a most intimate friend of mine, Jeffrey, whom Litt. may perhaps recollect, on account of a severe criticism he wrote upon the book. With Counselor Wise you know I quarreled upon the comparative merits of British and Americans. I would give a great deal to hear what he would say upon reading it, but do not believe he would go past the first page. J. Parker too, who stands up so strongly for all Americans that I thought he would have knocked me down for merely abusing your President and several of your

principal characters must irresistibly fight Moore. How does friend Littleton’s Politicks run now? I never expect to hear from him again, and I think that one of the greatest risques rises in marrying. Absorbing all friendship into one passion, but indeed I must not say, so still promising yours my worthy friend in whom I have found no change. Your letters tho like the Visits of Angels are “few and far between,” still [speak] the language of your heart and it comes forcibly to mine. Continue them then with their usual frankness for few occurrences give me so much pleasure as reading them. Thinking of all the pleasant images they recall, and when I shall have another. Think not that in all the varietys of European dissipation, the company of the long tried friends of my youth is the more engaging society of the few of the dear creatures which I live with nor that favor my memory than

remembrance of Church Neck of you and [of] Anna. The recollection of the pleasures I enjoyed altogether on the Eastern Shore pass frequently thro' my mind but those of the most interesting exist there. Tell your Sisters both Anna and Henrietta that it is too bad neither of them ever send me a scrap of a pen, but give them notwithstanding my warmest affection and accept yourself as much as you can of my love. Friend Littleton will not be angry, and kiss little Eliza for me.

You will hardly believe that I sat down to answer your letter and have run on so rapidly without [pressing] it. I will dispatch this and take the next opportunity of doing what it was intended this should do.

My sisters join in kindest wishes for you and yours. God Bless you.

A. D. Campbell