[Letter from Elizabeth Upshur Teackle to her daughter, Elizabeth Ann Upshur Teackle, April 14, 1817]

April 14^th 1817 P.A.

My beloved child,

Two letters from you today. One was a very pretty letter indeed & convinces me that you have a talent that way. I thank you for the hair which I have kiss’d twice. I did not think it cou’d have raised such lively feelings as I experienced when I saw it. It is a part of your person you know. It is a delightful thought that even in absence we can touch the material part of those we love. It is certainly of less consequence eternally than the immaterial (which meets & mingles with it, congenial everywhere, in spite of space;) but I doubt whether it is not more idolised. There can be no doubt that the viewing a part of a person we love raises more emotion than the exchange of thoughts when at a distance, even the most glowing and tenderly expression. We are in fact, the slaves of matter whilst we are material, notwithstanding all our metaphysical pride. At all events, without farther argument, the fact speaks for itself. I felt more emotion on seeing your hair than when I read your letter.

We have just received long letters from Richmond. The girls seem to be highly pleased and no doubt are highly pleasing. As in most cases, the one is a consequence of the other. They have qualifications to make them pleased, therefore, wherever they go. I can’t be so selfish as to wish they were here; but I do sincerely feel

the loss of their society. Henrietta is a charming girl, however, but it is a difficult thing to divide her between Beckford & Teackletonia so that neither has the full good of her. I shall make my final determination in regard to the time of your return when your father arrives. I shall suffer for no better society when I have yours.

My eyes are better. I can read a little now, but have not attempted to work. Indeed, I am quite easy about work now; so easily do we get into bad habits. I can lounge on the sofa and stroll about without being sensible of the loss of time, or the irksomeness of vacuity of employment. At first it was terrible, I however, have never worked much in spring. The garden affords a more interesting occupation. Mine goes on slowly however, but will be beautiful in time. I can scarcely command patience to witness its dull progress.

The good people of P. A. go on as usual. They have in your father’s absence made a shift to throw him out of the Bank entirely and exerted all their energies to effect it. He was the parent of the Institution it is true, but they, in their ambition to become its dry nurses, have concluded that the banking wou’d thrive better taken from its natural aliment. It was indisposed to be sure, and wou’d have been an obstinate Bank indeed, to have remain’d pertinaciously in good health in spite of all

their endeavors to cripple it. Those who can kill can not always cure.

I expect your father today, or tomorrow, and every day. In truth I am exhausted looking for him.

God bless you, my comfort, my pride, my darling child! May God bless you is all that I need to pray.

Your mother

EUT

The servants &c. always enquire for you. As I cannot write today I will fill up this blank with an extract from my prodigious poem. I wish I had energy to transcribe the whole.

“Drunk with the slaughter of thy mangled sons
“ Lo! Desolation wheels her scythed ear
“Along those walks where late thy⁺ Hero trode,
“Imperial Moscow! High flames her torch,
“And thy proud head is laid in ruin low!
“Tis fearful to behold that eddying flame
“Lift its terrifick columns to the skies,
“Casting a vengeful glare upon the fiends,
“Who ravage on thy spoils and tear thy vitals!
“By that red light a thunderbolt is forged
“To crush thy foes, thou champion of Kings!
“Young Alexander, brave, and wise, and great!”

I believe I have room for one more “picture.” Can you find one in the above?

⁺ The heroick governor who fired the City by the order of Koutoasoff. The name of the Governor is Rastapuchin.