[Letter from Elizabeth Upshur Teackle to her husband, Littleton Dennis Teackle, July 23, 1808 or 1809]
Mentioned in this letter
23d July
My dearest husband
Affection and tenderness speak to my heart, it warms it, revives and gives it confidence. Your last letter was a treat to my feelings in every way. Yours is a mind my truest friend that shews itself superior in adversity. You are a philosopher, and what is most valuable of all to me is that the tone of your mind vibrates on mine, and harmonizes every feeling. Cou’d I, my love, repine at any cast of fortune, witnessing as I do, every day, your superiority to the casualties of life? —no— It shall be my pride, whatever is your fortune (and your fortune is mine), to bear with patience, even with cheerfulness, those pitiful privations, wh[ich] after all, lead us to nothing. Cou’d we, with a philosophic eye view this world and its benefits, we shou’d exclaim that “all is vanity and vexation of spirit!” Even so the riches of kings may still be small comparatively
with the riches of the mind. I am more than ever convinced that it his move in moderate desires to make us rich, than in the mines of Golconda and Potosi.1 Then come what will, we can be rich after having done justice to whomsoever we owe it, in the determination to live strictly by what little means we have left to us. Independence is all I ask, and strictly to trace that word to its true sense, is not to confine it to millions, thousands, nor hundreds. It is the power of living justly and contentedly with whatever good heaven in its grants. Perhaps a few struggles may be allow’d to the frailty of nature, but these shortlived pangs over, and I feel within myself the capacity to reconcile my desires within the limits of christian fortitude and moral virtue. I have long been training myself, notwithstanding my occasional levity, to look forward with a steady eye to the worst. I am frail. I have no right to expect
an exemption of God, from this common lot of humanity, which is mix’d, even our dearest pleasures with mortifications, sufferings and misery. This world is a dream, where the pain is real, the pleasures, fleeting and illusive. We must struggle through it to the end, when we wake to a joyful morning of eternity, a day that knows no night of sorrow.
Altho’ I have fallen into this heartfelt strain of moralizing, I am, believe me, far from melancholy. You must not think it. On the other hand, your letter has comforted me, with the gleam of fortunes favors, altho’ seen but in perspective.
To speak of my kind friend and correspondent Mr. Gilmor, I can only thank him sincerely for his goodness in making me the compliment of a friendly invitation. So much has been already said of me on occasions of the kind, that I dare not venture another town excursion whilst your affairs are in any disorder. Expenses wou’d naturally ensue, for you know I am proud and fond of looking like other folks when in the
gay world. It is therefore but for me to keep out of it ‘till prudence authorizes my re-appearance. Nevertheless, I feel a full sense of W. Gilmor’s kindness, and of your’s for I know very well your consult my gratification exclusively in this matter. You may tell Mr. G. my health is not sufficient to enable me to undergo the fatigues of a voyage or journey, and truly I have my private reasons for keeping quiet just now. I am not quite sure that I lost my little babe when I wrote you, altho’ at the time I thought so. Although uncertain about it, I am desirous of using all possible precaution for a few weeks.
Elizabeth Elizabeth has commenced reading the book of tales you sent her. She improves in reading, indeed I am getting very proud of her. In 6 or seven years, wh[ich] are soon over, she will be, I trust, an ornament to your house. If a good genius, affectionate manners, and a mildness of temper I have never seen equaled, can make her a lovely woman,
she will be the pride of all hearts
God bless you!
Your faithful friend & wife
Although I hate to plague you about these matters, yet I promised W. Millman to mention him to you. He apologized for speaking of his account, but says things are hard with him. By cutting short my memo, you may perhaps be better enabled to send or bring him, if not all, a part of his dues.
L.D. Teackle, Esqr.
Barney’s Hotel
Baltimore
23 July