L'Esprit d'Amour

Letter to James Madison

Dear Sir,

     My good friend, it's been far too long since I've had the opportunity to write you a letter. I'd been at sea for too long and I have only just arrived here in Paris. With my quill at hand and a good supply of parchment, I finally have the chance to express the marvels I have already witnessed here in France!
     The journey here was magnificent in itself. The ocean breeze, the seabirds, and the thrill of the voyage. Alas, such a feeling is short to last, for the rest of the trip was quite a bore. But I'll never forget my emotions those first few days, knowing that I'd travel to this wonderful land where so many greats have come from; such as the famed Benjamin Franklin.
     The last few days on the ship were, admittedly, quite dreadful, but they were more than made up by the magnificence I found myself a witness to in this grand city. The architecture, oh, the architecture! I was reserved a room at the most prestigious Hôtel de Langeac, exhibiting spectacles unheard of in the States. The roads are exquisite and the buildings of such fine, fine taste. Speaking of fine taste, you absolutely need to order some of this Parisian Bordeaux for my dinner meetings at Monticello. It is some of the best wine I've ever been blessed to share, especially with such a wonderful lady.
     This "lady" is really what I wanted to write to you about, actually. I've already had difficulties having arrived here, but not of the political nature. No, I feel like, perhaps, I've been stricken with the emotion of love. Oh, but it's far too complicated to explain in a letter, forget I even wrote this...

     God, I can't leave this predicament unresolved, it aches my heart too much. You see, James, within a few days of settling in, I found myself talking to a nearby bookseller named Angelica Schuyler. Yes, yes, the same Schuyler of which our old "friend" Mr. Hamilton is married to (Speaking of, I do hope you've stopped writing those "Federalist Papers" with him; he's such a distasteful man). I presume she is Betsey's sister since she mentioned her father being Philip Schuyler.
     From the moment that she first spoke, I knew she was different. She didn't speak like your ordinary housewife, no, she spoke like a true politician. I made a few errors of treating her like the former and received a fierce rebuttal, something I rarely see in women these days. I daresay, she intrigued me. So naturally, I invited her to dinner.
     We went to dine at the Grande Taverne de Londres, a restaurant near the establishment I told you about earlier. I had such high hopes and Angelica was absolutely stunning in her dress. A bit rebellious in her fashion, but I quite fancied it. In fact, we really were having a good time, talking about trivial things and enjoying the cuisine. But our conversation strayed towards politics and I... well, I made a tragic mistake. I trivialized her work and insulted her and now she's gone. She despises me now. 
     James, I don't know what to do... I feel something for her, something I can't put into words. I've never dealt with women before and I don't know what I did wrong. Everything was going so well when the tables turned completely. Is it hopeless? Is there no chance for me to fan this spark, the spark I sensed the moment I laid eyes on her, into a flame? 

     I do apologize for unloading my troubles onto you, but you really are the only person I trust. Stay in touch, alright?

Yours truly,

Thomas Jefferson