[Letter from Andrew D. Campbell to Elizabeth Upshur Teackle, July 5, 1812]

My very dear Friend Eliza

You must think long ere this reaches Princess Anne that your old friend Campbell must have taken his departure to the shades below, forgotten the esteemed friends of his youth, got married, or met with some other dire mishap as nothing but some event of the greatest importance can palliate a silence of so long duration. What then will your surprise and indignation amount to when I candidly tell you that I have hardly any thing to offer in the way of apology, that I have been giving the usual round of an alternate turn life O Country, life, of business, of dissipation, of health and of sickness, but I do not attempt to plead any of them in justification and therefore pleading guilty I throw myself upon your mercy, not upon your justice but before you pass sentence

upon me I assure you that altho’ I have much failed in the expression of the continuance of my sincere friendship, but for Littleton I might call it Love, yet my secret fully acquits me of any diminution of regard and feelings tells me that distance and the lapse of 13 or 14 years since first I had the pleasure of your and my courtly friend, Littleton’s acquaintance has never made any alteration in my esteem and regard for you both. Therefore be merciful and assure me as early as possible that I have not sinned past forgiveness. But manners, friend Campbell, manners, I hear you saying ought to have dictated an earlier answer to a Lady’s letter. True, and here I am without a shadow of an apology, is, as a celebrated orator in Richmond Capitol once said, even without what can be supposed to be the feeble skeleton of the phantom of a shadow of one.

Your gay, your lively, your enchanting letter found me in England, but not until this letter

end of September last. I had gone there to perform a necessary duty which having done, I made a solitary excursion to some of the beautiful lakes in Cumberland, and when satiated with the beauties of nature in that romantic part of Britain, shifted the scene and at a watering place in the neighborhood dashed into all the amusements and follies that reigned there. Reading, lounging, chatting, walking, riding, arising all morning with some beautiful girl, some clever Authoresses and dashing young men and enjoying the evenings in dancing, and indulged a total relaxation of mind and body, from which I was roused by the illness, and following death of one of my partners in business, throwing upon me a great additional load of employment, a firm attack of illness, similar to what had nearly carried me off about 6 years ago, left me long weak and languid and convinced me that my Annui of this life is held by a very slight thread altho’ the strength of my constitution hitherto has enabled my resisting a most painful complaint in my side. These things I mention

almost entirely as occurrences ,but you will give them some weight if stern justice has any chance of getting the better of the hand of mercy.

I am no advocate for rescinding our orders in council, but I hail with heartfelt satisfaction the prospect that this measure will firmly conciliate our countries, will promote that intercourse of friendship and of amity which has been so long suspended and produce a more genial spirit of benevolence a more temperate mode of speaking and of acting to each other and of viewing in a more temperate frame of mind any unfortunate aggression or impropriety upon either side. For some time past, the demon of discord only has held rule and it is only a matter of surprise that which under his dominion nothing more serious has occurred, and now that we have set the example, I trust we shall be met with a reciprocal desire for peace and concord. If your rulers should wish it otherwise, and that this present favorable appearance should be broken, it must prove disastrous to both.

Your opinion of the rulers of your land coincides exactly with my own, but who would ever have calculated upon an American quoting Moore also has assess advocated so very severely upon your country and countrymen. But you are of no party, and while you detest him for his faults can admit the justice of some of his remarks.

When he first published, I was a great admirer of his works and still read many of his poems with much pleasure, but others have assumed the tinsel appearance. Scott decidedly carries the palm at present in poetry. His last work of the Lady of the Lake is one of the finest poems I ever read. I do not recollect if I mentioned it to you before. If I did I would also probably tell you that two of my summers in early life were spent in the neighborhood of Loch Catharine. From the warmth of your expressions upon the scenes of the Wallace¹ and the Bruce², you will suppose the pleasures I experienced in finding the scenery which in early days I had so much admired, made the subject of a poem so splendid.

Each lake, each mountain, and each reedy glen all

painted in colors so animated and glowing and with a faithfulness of delineation that poets seldom consider necessary added to the beauty of the tale and the sentiments produce a fascination which words cannot impart. If it is ever given to us to meet in this little island, you will be made acquainted with every step and turn of Fitz James and Roderick, the retreat of Ellen and the Douglas. The whole range of uncommonly variegated scenery from Glengyle³ to Stirling which a stranger could with facility follow from the accuracy of Scott’s description. But your last holds out faint hopes of this being probable, and at the same time with much ingenuity you contrive to lay some part of the impossibility to my door. Littleton might be jealous of your coming to Scotland to make parallels with his old friend and your old admirer.

Good, as if it was possible to suppose, that to use if I mistake not, a phrase of your own, a nasty, feisty old Bachelor can be suspected of any such possibilities. If such could be the first glance of his eye, would convince him of error when he

would see the depredations which time has made having hardly left me a hair on my pate, true wigs can be got but what are wigs to a beau!!

A melancholy moment of what one has been and of all the follies to which Bachelors are heir, and pray the Lord to help me from that figure of fun and of folly, an old beau. Your uncle Littleton always stares me in the face when I think of a man of a certain age, as the French say, looking out for a mistress to whom to pay his [dusaries?], his hair so sleek, his white stock so stiff, his body so perpendicular, like a drill sergeants cane, and then his boots! But sacred be his boots for I hardly know any subject that has as frequently afforded food for mirth, except Stein’s Stine noses. See his works and I sincerely hope he continues to amuse the rising generation in them. If in existence, as I do firmly believe they may be, do tell me if any material change has taken place upon them.

How I do run away from the subject, but to resume. So you have got an inclination for style and dash, and fear that here when so much exists the rage would increase, and upon this, allow my very dear friend, to put you right. Here

there is no place so very so certain of causing any little propensity that way as London. The very center of style and vortex of dissipation is the surest place overcome any propensities of that nature for then all degrees of ranks. All modes of living us to shew and style are compleatly levelled and however ambitious any individual may be to cut a great a distinguished is an eccentric figure let them go to London and there they will find the folly of their nays for in the thousands equally great destiny visited and eccentric he finds himself a mere atom. And having ascertained this point, they must only be fearful of weak minds, who can for a moment, think of dazzling by horses equippages with the one half of a Chain. A chariot and pair, is [free?] in hand, is four in hand with leaders and a postillion⁴ came to London and you will find the riddle solved and that whatever is most compatible is most fashionable. Do you recollect my friend Sally Handy? Altho half of a Chain!! Heroes [covered page] to give you 2 Seats than to give her one. Have

Have you continued to occupy more room in the world now than you did then! Would that I could again revisit Churchneck and Hungars review the laugh the joke, and the dance which made so many of my days pass merrily, and had down with you exhibiting the effects of [Ducazin?] works upon me. Poor fellow, I hardly know whether his labor in teaching one—tu—tree— [corafice?] or mine in learning was the greatest. Yet you say you have left off jigging. How does this come about! Continuing to possess all your youth and beauty, do you think the men flatter when they tell you so? I daresay not, but must consult Littleton, and if he says yea, I will swear you are greatly improved, shocking rudeness. Could Campbell suppose that I was not the acme of perfection when he wandered thro America. But you will recollect that I was always famous for getting into some foolish scrape and was a bad hand at compliments.

Your little girl is now approaching her twelfth year. Black eyes, dark curling hair, and such a heart as will recommend her your hope and my good will. Indeed you need not fear that it should be otherwise, but you must make me better

acquainted with her. Is she lively, smart, and gay as I knew her Mother to be, or does she blend in with these attractions some of her Father’s gravity and cool reflection.

Has her education been under your own eye? If so, I am sure her mind and her manners will be better formed than all the schools of Philadelphia, and Baltimore, or London or Paris could accomplish. I do so hate boarding schools for young ladies who have Mothers capable of superintending their education. In you and your sister’s case it was different quite, but nothing excepting such a necessity can justify them to me. Is the young Eliza of a mild or of a warm disposition? Or quick in conversation or of her Aunt Henrietta’s retired manner.

Do give me all these and a thousand other particulars which must engross your heart and your soul, and in all of which I feel deeply interested. Often, very often, do I think of the happiness of you, Littleton and the dear little girl’s domestic scenes. And sometimes my friend, I cast a look inwards, rather a dismal one, to the solitary state of existence which a variety of circumstances have, and are very likely to continue to keep me in. Were I beside you, I would tell you all of them, but they are too complicated to put upon paper. Nor would it be right to risque the chance of a letter falling into improper hands. Yet this is a subject that

I have never communicated to any woman of my acquaintance here. Nor is there now any one to whom I could speak my mind so freely as to yourself. How it is I cannot say, but I never think of you or read your letters without feeling inclined to a freedom of communication and thought which no other individual inspires. The pleasure your open frankness gives, irresistibly impels a reciprocal sentiment. We certainly must meet again in this world. If any possible good fortune enables me again to return to America, the circle of my acquaintances will be widely extended by the marriages of so many of my acquaintances. Do you recollect that Henrietta used to make vows against committing the sin of Matrimony? I remember them well, and am truly happy to hear that she has broken them. Do present my kindest regards to her, and wish her all possible joy and happiness. I knew none better calculated than her for all the dignified duties of a married life. Eliza was also young when I was at Kegotank, do persuade them to change that ugly name, but promised to be very beautiful. She will not recollect me, and I do not remember Hetty.

But what are Littleton’s brothers about? They must now be coming into the world as men of business. I have also to inquire what Littleton himself is

doing. You will also give my respects to Mr. and Mrs. Teackle who you tell me have returned home from Washington. How does Moore’s description of that city now correspond? I fear you will say this is a naughty question. Marriage is the standing order of the day in your part of the world, and nothing can give me more pleasure than that of the daughter of my worthy steadfast friend Stratton to young Parker as you give an account of him as highly favorable. I was sorry that I saw little of him here, and what has become of his companion Nicolson, Mrs Stratton’s nephew? But he belonged to a different part of Virginia. And tell me also if there is no such thing as one of your friends or acquaintances ever coming this way to whom you would wish a little attention shown? And if any, why do you not introduce them to me? It is unnecessary to repeat what I must have mentioned before, the pleasures which such an introduction would give, when I might make minute enquiries concerning you all. From hence then are few individuals of whom I can give you any account. My mother and sisters always hear of you with much pleasure, and desire earnestly to be better acquainted. No change has

taken place with them, and my brother continues as a Bachelor to keep me in countenance. One of my married sisters, Mrs. Muirhead, after being long without any family has given a daughter to the professor. It is now a year old. By the way, she was married soon after your sister Anne, and I hope you will call to give me the same intelligence respecting her, of whom you say nothing in your last letter, but forget not my regards to her. Does Eyre not intend to take a part in your political world? He is well calculated. Has William married again? His gentleness must make him a good husband, but he will hardly get a more amiable woman than his last wife seemed to be. But I believe it will be easier for me to go to Northampton and ascertain all these points personally rather than give you so much trouble as to answer all my inquiries. And then too, I will get acquainted with your Princess Anne Society. Make me one of your happy circle round the fire side in dancing Boulanges. Arthur, I think, was your oldest cousin. He surely is not your Brother. And I do recollect, there is such an intermarrying of the family and names that it is no easy matter to disentangle them. I was thinking of

your uncle’s oldest son who promised to be a very handsome young man. Arthur was young and hardy an acquaintance, but they all go the same road of maturing, and so rapidly too. No wonder your population doubles itself so rapidly.

Now, my dear Mrs. T., I must bid you adieu having a few lines to write to Littleton, and then have this letter for the first opportunity for America as I intend going from home to spend some time in the country, and endeavour to acquire some additional strength, for the illness of winter left me very weak and recent fatigue had again nearly renewed my illness. Therefore my friend, farewell. Give your daughter a kiss of affection and of friendship for me, that she may grow in every virtue and in every grace that can endear her to you, and add to your happiness is the sincere wish of your ever faithful friend,

A.D. Campbell

Glasgow 5 July, 1812

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[ripped page] D. Teackle
Princess Anne
Eastern Shore
Maryland