New-York, May 20, 1804. I send you a sample of that species of philosophy which I have thought particularly suited to your cast of mind and the delicacy of your taste. You are to read from the 66th page to the 125th. What precedes and follows will fatigue, without interesting or amusing you. Indeed, some of it will not be very intelligible, and you must not be disgusted in the outset.
The author has not noticed those advantages which personal beauty derives from intellectual improvement, or expansion of the mind tempered by commerce with the world, nor how grace and expression may be thus heightened and improved. I wish some one would write a volume on this subject. Indeed, I have had thoughts of doing it myself, and holding you up as the example to verify my theory. To this some thoughtless ones may object, that, where nature had done so much, nothing was left for the work of art. There cannot be a greater error. The essential difference between the silly and the wise consists in their different capacity for improvement. Bestow what pains, offer what advantages you may to a dull subject, and she will remain stationary. One of taste and talents, on the contrary, extracts improvement from every thing, and approaches perfection in proportion as the means of advancement are afforded.
What grave nonsense, you will say, or at least think, if this should find you, as is probable, surrounded by admirers uniting to persuade you that you are already perfect; and in such company how stupid a compliment will it seem to tell you that you may still improve; that there are no limits to the improvement and approaches which you may make towards perfection. Such, however ungallant, will be the language of your admirer and friend,
A. BURR.
TO THEODOSIA.
New-York, May 8, 1804.
I think I have answered, or at least have noticed, your letter of the 17th, being the last which has been received, and, as usual, postmarked nine days after its date.
The affair of La G. is becoming serious. After due reflection, this does appear to me to be the most discreet thing—prudence, cheerfulness, and good-temper are ingredients of importance. I will offer homage. Are you content? Answer quickly.
Madame Bonaparte and husband are here. I have just seen them and no more. For reasons unknown to me (doubtless some state policy), we are suddenly become strangers.
Of all earthly things I most want to see your boy. Does he yet know his letters? If not, you surely must want skill, for, most certain, he can't want genius. You must tell me of all his acquirements.