January 23

[In this letter dated January 23, 1764, written from Devilsburg, a playful nickname I gave to Williamsburg while studying law under George Wythe, I write to my close college companion John Page, who would later become the Governor of Virginia (1802-1805). At this point in my youth (21 years old), our relationship is one of intimate, lighthearted confidants navigating the social and romantic anxieties of early adulthood during the colonial era. Amidst a flurry of miscarried mail and anxieties over intercepted communications, I lament that my letters regarding my unrequited romantic interest in Rebecca Burwell might be read by prying eyes. My deep anxiety over romantic secrecy is so profound that I regret not writing in Latin or using cryptography, specifically wishing I had encoded her name as campana in die, a literal Latin translation for bell in day, rather than using the Greek alphabet anagram αδνιλεβ to spell Belinda.]

I received your letter of Wednesday, the 18th instant; in that, of this day, you mention one which you wrote last Friday, and sent by the Secretary's boy; but I have neither seen nor heard of such a one. God send mine of January 19 to you may not have shared the same fate; for, by your letter, I am uncertain whether you have received it or not; you therein say, "you hope to have received an answer from me by this time," by which I judge it has miscarried; but you mention mine of December 25th, which put me in spirits again, as I do not know how you should have got intelligence that I had wrote such a one, unless you had seen my letter of Jan. 19, in which it was mentioned—yes, there is one other way by which you might have received such intelligence. My letter of Jan. 19 may have been opened, and the person who did it may have been further incited by curiosity, to ask you if you had received such a letter as they saw mentioned therein; but God send, and I hope this is not the case. Sukey Potter, to whom I sent it, told me yesterday she delivered it to Mr. T. Nelson, the younger, who had delivered it to you—I hope with his own hand. I wish I had followed your example, and wrote it in Latin, and that I had called my dear campana in die, instead of αδνιλεβ.

We must fall on some scheme of communicating our thoughts to each other, which shall be totally unintelligible to every one but to ourselves. I will send you some of these days Shelton's Tachygraphical Alphabet, and directions. Jack Walker is engaged to Betsey Moore, and desired all his brethren might be made acquainted with his happiness. But I hear he will not be married this year or two. Put campana in die in mind of me; tell him I think as I always did. I have sent my horses up the country, so that it is out of my power to take even an airing on horseback at any time. My paper holds out no longer, so must bid you adieu.