[Letter from Elizabeth Upshur Teackle to Caleb Upshur, April 22, 1810]

Princess Anne April 22^d, 1810

My Dear Caleb

That I have not earlier replied to your flattering notice of my Ode, is neither the result of a weak sense of the compliment you have therein paid my understanding, nor of lukewarm friendship; rather, lay it to the charge of a timidity which, in spite of the encouragement you so kindly have given my little talent in the literary way, sensitively withdraws from the farther investigation of that sense and taste which, on a better acquaintance with my proficiencies, might be worse pleased with their extent. No - at the very time my ruling Passion Vanity was most gratified by the contributions laid on your praise, she resolv’d not to hazard the little ground her subject had gain’d for her, by pursuing farther conquests beyond the bounds of common sense, whose steady voice happily was heard amidst the clamour of passion & vain glory, through the tenacious ear of self interest.

As to the subject of your elegant epistle

Which does honour, both to the Muse and her disciple, all I have to reply to it is, that perhaps you have mistaken that for principle, and or orthodoxy in my poem, which was only intended, by its ambiguous authoress, shou’d breathe the gentle language of charity and compassion for those errors of our sex, which she wou’d rather hope are the result of a surprise of ambush’d feelings on ill guarded minds, than as the deliberate treachery of depraved hearts, clueless of consequence, on the world at large, in the gratification of individual interest, insatiable passions. I cou’d but smile, my dear fellow, at the civility with which you caught hold of my text; but, whilst I acknowledge you to rank amongst the ablest of casuists, I must, with due decorum declare, that like many other polemics, you pervert the spirit and meaning of the creed to answer the purposes of your favorite hypothesis. Charity is my doctrine, enjoyment your creed, and yet, in so masterly a manner have you blended these, that for the soul of me, I can scarcely discriminate of what sect I am. I know full well

of Zeno, and you are decidedly Epicurean, let us split the difference: It is so much my desire to assimilate to you in all things that I beg of you to name some go between Philosopher who shall amicably unite us in following the purest dictates of the heart, and the wisest dictates of the head. In giving birth to my little ode, I must candidly own my heart was chief agent. Altho you have, with your usual enthusiasm, given unbounded rope to your prejudices in unqualified favor to all you espouse; and crown’d that head with Ivy, which shou’d wear the cypress, or mournful willow. Poetically, madly enamor’d of the Muses, I have to bemoan their coldness: even Sappho never felt more amorous flames, inspired by Lesbian Dames. Nor did her burning passion glow with more destructive fury when Phaon was the theme, than the fire which mounting to my brain frighten Apollo from me; who fearing the scorching of his golden locks and tuneful strings, hides himself from me, in the closest court of Parnassian shades: But since Mortal [dar]kness, and immortal glory can never commingle