2. Joseph Alston, son-in-law of Colonel Burr.
CHAPTER XXIII.
Immediately after Colonel Burr's arrival in the city of New-York, he opened an office and commenced the practice of law. The high and distinguished reputation with which he had retired from the bar in 1801 secured to him, on his return, an extensive and profitable business. A few individuals of the profession, under the influence of former prejudices, some of them hereditary, and as ancient as the 4th of July, 1776, endeavoured to throw impediments in his way; but these efforts were of short duration, and productive of but little effect. In general, he was courteously, if not kindly received, by gentlemen of the profession. In reference to this subject it was his request, that while no individual should be censured, the name of his friend, Colonel Robert Troup, should be recorded as meriting and receiving his most grateful acknowledgments. It has been seen that their intimacy was formed while they were yet but boys, at a period and under circumstances "that tried men's souls." On Burr's opening his office, Colonel Troup, having abandoned the practice of law, generously tendered him the use of his library until it should be required for his (Troup's) own son; which, to Burr, was a most acceptable kindness, as he was destitute of the means of supplying even his most pressing wants. His prospects, for the moment, were cheering and auspicious. But they were soon "o'er-clouded with wo."
In his daughter (Mrs. Alston) and her son were centred all his hopes, all his affections, all the ties that bound him to this life. The following appears to have been the first letter, after his arrival in the United States, that Burr received from his son-in-law Alston.
FROM JOSEPH ALSTON.
July 26, 1812.
A few miserable weeks since, my dear sir, and in spite of all the embarrassments, the troubles, and disappointments which have fallen to our lot since we parted, I would have congratulated you on your return in the language of happiness. With my wife on one side and my boy on the other, I felt myself superior to depression. The present was enjoyed, the future was anticipated with enthusiasm. One dreadful blow has destroyed us; reduced us to the veriest, the most sublimated wretchedness. That boy, on whom all rested; our companion, our friend—he who was to have transmitted down the mingled blood of Theodosia and myself—he who was to have redeemed all your glory, and shed new lustre upon our families—that boy, at once our happiness and our pride, is taken from us—is dead. We saw him dead. My own hand surrendered him to the grave; yet we are alive. But it is past. I will not conceal from you that life is a burden, which, heavy as it is, we shall both support, if not with dignity, at least with decency and firmness. Theodosia has endured all that a human being could endure; but her admirable mind will triumph. She supports herself in a manner worthy of your daughter.
We have not yet been able to form any definite plan of life. My present wish is that Theodosia should join you, with or without me, as soon as possible. My command here, as brigadier-general, embarrasses me a good deal in the disposal of myself. I would part with Theodosia reluctantly; but if I find myself detained here, I shall certainly do so. I not only recognise your claim to her after such a separation, but change of scene and your society will aid her, I am conscious, in recovering at least that tone of mind which we are destined to carry through life with us.
I have great anxiety to be employed against Quebec, should an army be ordered thither, and have letters prepared asking of the president a brigade in that army. From the support which that request will have, if not obtained now, I doubt not it will be at the first increase of the military force, which, if the war be seriously carried on, must be as soon as Congress meet. Then, be the event what it may, I shall at least gain something. Adieu.
Yours, with respect and regard,