April 9

[In my April 9, 1764 letter to John Page, my closest friend from the College of William and Mary, I write from Williamsburg, which I playfully nickname Devilsburg, to gossip about local romances and social interactions. I recount a friend's romantic infatuation, my shock at being unexpectedly drafted as a bridesman for a sudden wedding, and ask about his own love life before urging him to return so we can measure the town's elevation above the local creeks. My use of the satirical pseudonym Devilsburg reveals my early, youthful frustration with the mundane social politics of the colonial Virginia capital, showcasing a lighter, more sarcastic side of my personality long before I became consumed by the serious gravity of the American Revolution.]

This letter will be conveyed to you by the assistance of our friend Warner Lewis. Poor fellow! never did I see one more sincerely captivated in my life. He walked to the Indian camp with her yesterday, by which means he had an opportunity of giving her two or three love squeezes by the hand; and, like a true arcadian swain, has been so enraptured ever since, that he is company for no one. Betsy has at last bestowed her hand on Beard; and whether it was for money, beauty, or principle, will be so nice a dispute, that no one will venture to pronounce. Two days before the wedding I was not a little surprised, on going to the door at my house, to see him alight from his horse. He stepped up to me, and desired the favor of me to come to Mr. Yates' at such a time. It was so unexpected, that for some time I could make no reply; at last, I said "yes," and turned about and walked back into my room. I accordingly attended, and to crown the joke, when I got there, was dubbed a bridesman. There were many other curious circumstances too tedious to mention here. Jack Walker is expected in town to-morrow. How does your pulse beat after your trip to the Isle of Wight? What a high figure I should have cut, had I gone! When I heard who visited you there, I thought I had met with the narrowest escape in the world. I wonder how I should have behaved—I am sure I should have been at a great loss. If your mistress can spare you a little time, your friends here would be very glad to see you, particularly Small and myself, as everything is now ready for taking the height of this place above the water of the creeks. Fleming's relapse will justly afford you great matter of triumph, after rallying you so much on being in love.