This day, for the first time since I have been here I went to the Capitol to hear
Dr. Staugten who has acquired some reputation for preaching good sermons, which has
made him a Chaplain. He is President of the College near here and is the head of the
sect of the Baptists in this place.
1 His delivery is extemporaneous and at first strange and disagreable. Entirely contrary
to the notions we have usually formed of pulpit eloquence he is exceedingly theatrical
and varies the tone of his voice from high to low with great rapidity. This I have
observed is somewhat the fashion here among certain sects who judge less of propriety
than of policy, for by the one method they imagine that they can strike the passions
of the ignorant whereas by the other they would remain a sect without numbers and
with no probability of increase which is their great aim. I came home rather disgusted
I must confess. He has nothing of the power of
[ . . . ]2 although he tries the same style and greatly exceeds it.
As I had nothing to do in the afternoon, I set off on a stroll with dog Booth. I wished
again to see some spots very dear to me by the associations they call up and by the
time which has passed since I saw them. I did not go last winter. My course was over
the Tiber to the Potomac bridge, where I had been so often shooting, where I had spent
perhaps the most delightful of my days, where I had sometimes sat down and thought
and thought till I had wrapt myself in an elysium of delight. The feelings are all
over, but even now it is sweet to recollect it as a dream which passed over but too
soon, and never to be equalled again. The recollection is more sweet, because it is
more gentle and not exposed to the same high storms of passion.
From the bridge I turned and came round by the old house of Ironside, whither I had
so often gone to recite in my young days. Poor man, he was then in affliction and
he had my good wishes for his relief which he has always construed into exertions
I could make, none
[of] which would avail him. But he was relieved. I have not seen him this winter more
than once and he was then in agony, his child
{ 50 } had died on that morning. I perceived his grief and was quiet. Passing by the house
now deserted and wild, I reached the little canal where I had so often fished and
had spent some of my most delightful
[word omitted]. It was here where the intimacies began, it was here where I could create obligations
only to return with more pleasure to myself. The bridge is now broken down, and the
planks are off and every thing to which I was attached appears to be going to wreck,
even to the great causes of my pleasure. But so be it. Now I am but an indifferent
spectator, without interest and without affection.
My walk was a long one and return late, so that I had but just time to dress for dinner.
Monsieur had invited one or two gentlemen to dine, Mr. Amory of Boston, Mr. Connell
of Philadelphia, Mr. Dodge, the Marseilles Consul,
3 and Blunt. The dinner was a so so pleasant one, but Mr. Amory did not appear in good
spirits probably owing to his robbery which has made great talk and concerning which
he has been much questioned. He laughed and gave us some account of it, in which it
appears the thieves were amazingly polite. Connell is a monstrous talker about nothing
at all and after the first half hour that you are acquainted with him will talk you
almost to death half of which conversation you cannot hear and the other half having
so little subject you cannot understand. Dodge is a simpering whimpering sort of an
innocently conceited fop, somewhat elated on account of his late marriage with Miss
DWolfe, without much meaning in any thing except a great idea of wealth.
4 As to Blunt he is a young man with considerable abilities but with twice the vanity
and four times the arrogance. Placed here as a political machine to look after matters
as they respect the election he claims an intimacy in our family which we have no
objection to allow him. Had he not become too conspicuous in the city of New York
from his politics, he would have formed a lower opinion of himself and then would
have been a very agreable man.
After dinner, Mr. William Lee, Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan and Dr. Watkins with his son
5 dropped in at different times so that we looked quite a party. I spent an hour upstairs,
reading, and the rest of the evening in the drawing room. Mr. Amory’s spirits were
raised considerably latterly by the news of the capture of the robbers brought in
by Mr. Lee, and went away repeating to himself his joy. John and Young Watkins talked
together almost all the evening. I had some conversation with Sullivan and begin to
think him as shallow as he is reputed to be. Lee has grown larger than ever and puffs
away with more importance than ever. Thus did the evening pass away, rather
{ 51 } pleasantly than otherwise. Mrs. Sullivan appears to be much delighted here as she
will have an opportunity, she knows, of being more noticed than at home. This has
now gone over even here and now she wishes an intimacy here to keep her up in the
great world.