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RECOLLECTIONS 
OF  MY  MOTHER 


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2  INTRODUCTION 

repeating  the  touching  lines  of  Goethe,  in  his  Introduc- 
tion to  Faust :  — 

"  Again,  fair  images,  ye  hover  near, 

As  erst  ye  rose  to  meet  the  mourner's  eye, 

And  may  I  hope  that  ye  will  linger  here? 
Will  my  heart  beat,  as  in  the  days  gone  by  ? 

Ye  throng  upon  my  view,  divinely  clear, 
Like  sunbeams  vanquishing  a  cloudy  sky. 

Beneath  your  solemn  march  my  spirit  burns ; 

Magic  is  breathing,  youth  with  joy  returns. 

"  What  forms  rise  beautiful  of  happy  years  ? 

What  happy  shadows  flit  before  me  fast  ? 
Like  an  old  song,  still  ringing  in  the  ears, 

Come  the  warm  loves  and  friendships  of  the  past. 
Renewed  each  sorrow,  and  each  joy  appears, 

Which  marked  Life's  changing,  labyrinthine  waste, 
And  those  return,  who  passed  in  youth  away, 
Cheated,  alas  !  of  half  Life's  little  day." 

The  town  of  Northampton,  where  Judge  Lyman  and 
his  wife  spent  so  many  years,  was  in  those  days  a  speci- 
men of  the  best  kind  of  New  England  villages.  Not  so 
large  but  that  all  its  inhabitants  might  know  each  other, 
it  was  one  of  those  genuine  democracies  which  fulfil  in 
reality  the  motto  which  is  often  only  true  as  an  aim. — 
"Liberty,  Equality,  Fraternity."  There  was  a  manly  in- 
dependence which  pervaded  every  household,  the  inde- 
pendence born  of  Puritanism.  Kindness  was  welcomed, 
but  favors  were  out  of  the  question.  Those  who  were 
next  door  to  want  would  hardly  accept  assistance.  More 
diplomacy  than  might  disentangle  the  intricate  compli- 
cations of  Stales  would  be  required  to  induce  the  poor- 
est people  in  a  New  England  town  to  accept  a  load  of 
wood  or  a  barrel  of  potatoes.  All  were  equal  on  this 
plane  of  independence  ;  but  it  was  a  genuine  equality, 
which   recognized  willingly  superiority  of    faculty  in  any 


INTRODUCTION  3 

one,  which  accepted  readily  any  mastership  or  culture 
or  inbred  ability.  It  was  an  equality  which  went  hand 
in  hand  with  mutual  respecr.  And,  above  all,  there  was 
brotherhood.  The  fraternity  for  which  we  now  struggle 
so  ineffectually  was,  a  hundred  years  ago,  a  part  of  the 
life  of  each  New  England  town.  All  knew  each  other. 
There  was  no  luxury  or  display  to  separate.  Habits  were 
simple,  and  economy  universal.  The  prayer  of  Lemuel 
was  fulfilled ;  for  no  one  was  in  absolute  poverty,  and  no 
one  was  so  rich  as  to  be  above  prudence  and  self-denial 
in  expenditure. 

Emerson  wrote,  after  reading  this  memoir,  "One  won- 
ders as  he  reads  how  much  resource  of  event  and  char- 
acter and  happiness  a  genial  mind  and  heart  can  find  in 
one  inland  town.     It  makes  me  proud  of  my  country." 

In  such  a  society,  natural  qualities  have  their  due 
recognition.  A  man  or  woman  of  superior  judgment,  of 
practical  talent,  of  large  and  generous  nature,  became  at 
once  an  influence,  and  was  looked  up  to  as  a  natural 
leader.  Thus,  in  this  town  of  Northampton,  Mrs.  Lyman 
was  the  centre  of  a  bright  social  activity.  The  people 
read  books,  and  mostly  the  same  books  ;  and  they  were 
sufficiently  educated  to  take  an  interest  in  good  con- 
versation. They  did  a  large  portion  of  their  household 
work  in  the  morning,  and  had  leisure  for  a  little  social 
intercourse  in  the  afternoon  or  evening.  Society  was  not 
divided  into  "sets"  or  "circles,"  but  the  humblest  might 
feel  at  ease  in  tin:  company  of  the  most  distinguished. 
In  such  a  community,  Mrs.  Lyman  was  at  home,  and  in 
her  true  sphere.  Her  active  intellect,  her  joyful  disposi- 
tion, her  cheerful  faith,  made  her  a  radiating  point  of 
light  and  warmth.  Frank  and  sincere,  she  said  just  what 
she  thought  :  kXA  just  what  she  believed  right  ;  was 
wholly    unconventional  ;   and    yet    all    saw    that    she    was 


4  INTRODUCTION 

anchored  by  conscience  to  primal  truths,  and  was  in  no 
danger  of  drifting  into  any  dangerous  extreme.  She  was 
conservative  by  education  and  habit,  but  progressive  by 
the  independent  activity  of  her  mind. 

As  all  this,  and  more,  will  be  found  in  this  work,  we 
leave  its  readers  to  discover  it  and  enjoy  it  without 
further  comment.  We  must  repeat,  in  concluding  these 
few  remarks,  that  if  scholars  call  on  men  to  rejoice  at 
the  discovery  of  the  mummy  of  an  Egyptian  king,  or  the 
finding  of  a  scrap  of  Cicero  in  a  palimpsest,  how  much 
more  glad  should  we  be  to  have  disinterred  for  us  some- 
thing of  the  past  home  life  of  a  former  generation,  so 
that  we  can  say  to  our  children,  "  This  is  the  way  in 
which  your  grandparents  lived  and  thought  and  acted 
fifty  or  a  hundred  years  ago  "  ! 

JAMES  FREEMAN  CLARKE. 


TABLE   OF   CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Anne  Jean  Robbins. —  Her  Birth  and  Surroundings. — 
Her  Grandfather,  Rev.  Nathaniel  Robbins. —  Dr. 
Estes  Howe's  Letter  about  her  Father. —  Stephen 
Brewer's  Reminiscences. —  R.  B.  Forbes's. —  Her 
Mother. —  Her  Hutchinson  Ancestry. —  Anne 
Hutchinson. —  Edward  Hutchinson. —  Family- 
Pride,    17-30 

CHAPTER  II. 

Her  Childhood.— Milton  Hill.— Dr.  Holbrook.— Her 
School. —  Miss  Ann  Bent. —  Funeral  of  George 
Washington. —  Winters  in  Boston. —  Birth  of  her 
Little  Sister. —  Ladies'  Academy. —  Her  Room- 
mate.—  Removal  to  Brush  Hill. —  The  Earlier 
Inmates. —  Her  Interest  in  Education. —  Emma 
Forbes  and  Mary  Pickard. —  Aunt  Catherine's 
Letter  describing  Brush  Hill. —  The  Misses  Bar- 
ker's Politics,  and  Religious  Interests  of  the  Day,       31-46 

CHAPTER  III. 

Recollections  of  Brush  Hill. —  Cousin  Mary  Ware. — 
My  Aunt  Howe. —  Anne  Jean's  Taste  for  Read- 
ing.—  The  Books  the  Sisters  studied. —  Her 
Commonplace  Book. —  Sally's  Sonnet  in  Memory 
of  Mrs.  Whipple. —  Their  Winter  Visits. —  Their 
Dress. —  Channing  and  Buckminster, 47—55 


6  TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Anne  Jeans  Letters. —  Visit  to  Hingham. —  Letter 
dictated  to  Mary  Pickard. —  Anecdotes  of  Hing- 
ham.—  Letter  to  Eliza  Robbins. —  Visits  of  the 
Sisters  to  New  York. —  They  meet  Washington 
Irving,  Paulding,  and  Jeffrey. —  The  New  Salma- 
gundi.—  Anne  Jean  goes  to  New  York. —  Letters 
from  New  York  in  1810  and  181 1, 56-64 

CHAPTER  V. 

Anne  Jean  visits  Green  Vale. —  She  there  meets  Judge 
Lyman. —  Becomes  engaged. —  Description  of 
Judge  Lyman  by  Mr.  Rufus  Ellis. —  News  of 
Anne  Jean's  Engagement  reaches  Brush  Hill. — 
Sisters  in  Commotion. —  Sally  writes  the  News 
to  Eliza. —  Death  of  Aunt  Forbes. —  Her  Portrait 
by  Copley. —  Anne  Jean  marries. —  Removes  to 
Northampton. —  Description  of  Northampton  at 
that  Day. —  "Aunt  Dwight." — The  Large  Fam- 
ily.—  "  Burty."  —  "  Lyman  Floodgates."  —  Her 
Treatment  of  Children. —  The  Bidefuls. —  Fine 
Health  and  Ignorance  about  111  Health,   ....       65-83 

CHAPTER  VI. 

A  Handsome  Pair. —  State  of  Society  in  the  Town. — 
Beauty  of  the  Scenery. —  Stage-coach  Days. — 
Story  of  a  Stage-driver. —  My  Father's  Indus- 
try.—  Social  Qualities. —  Hartford  Convention. — 
Correspondence  with  Brush  Hill  and  Milton 
Friends. — -Birth  of  Joseph. —  Description  of  the 
House. —  My  Mother's  Music. —  Her  Instructions 
in  Humanity. —  Her  Annual  Visits  to  Boston  and 
Brush  Hill. —  My  First  Journey. —  Journeys  of 
Judge  Lyman  and  Judge  Howe. —  Anti-slavery 
Talk  in  a  Stage-coach. —  The  Home  Coming  and 
Welcoming  Friends, S4-96 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS  7 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Judge  Howe. —  Sally's  Visits  to  Northampton. —  Be- 
comes engaged. —  Letter  from  Catherine  Robbins 
describing  Worthington. —  William  Cullen  Bry- 
ant.—  Dr.  Bryant. —  Eleanor  Walker. —  Visits  be- 
tween the  Sisters. —  Judge  Howe's  Change  of 
Religious  Opinions. —  Letters  of  Mrs.  Howe  to 
Miss  Cabot  containing  Accounts  of  her  Wedding 
Journey,  Worthington  Home,  etc. —  Her  Reading 
of  Tacitus,  "The  Giaour,"  and  Virgil. —  Allusions 
to  the  War  of  1812,  the  Embargo,  etc. —  The  Lit- 
erature of  that  Day. —  Visit  from  Mary  Pickard. — 
Scott's  Early  Novels. —  Sismondi. —  Loss  of  a 
Child. —  Death  of  Mr.  Thacher, 97-119 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Mrs.  Lyman's  Letters  to  Emma  Forbes,  and  Births  of 
her  Daughter  Anne  Jean  and  her  Son  Edward. — 
Letters.- — Village  News. —  Visits  from  Friends. — 
Reading  Miss  Hamilton's  "  Popular  Essays." — 
"  North  American  Review." —  Mrs.  Howe's  Let- 
ters to  Miss  Forbes. —  Allusions  to  President 
Kirkland  and  Mr.  Thacher. —  Story  of  Louisa. — 
Mr.  Edward  Everett. —  Life  of  Mr.  Edgeworth,        120-133 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Marriage  of  her  Sister  to  Mr.  Joseph  Warren  Revere. 
—  Family  Love  for  "  Aunt  Lyman." —  Marriage  of 
Abby  Lyman  to  Mr.  William  Greene. —  Her  Love 
for  Abby. —  Letters  to  her. —  Letter  to  Emma 
Forbes  containing  Dissertation  on  Friendship 
and  Lord  Clarendon. —  Visit  from  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
William  Lyman. —  Mentions  John  Lowell,  and  his 
reading  "  Yamoyden." — She  goes  to  Troy  and 
Saratoga. —  Meets  Attorney-General  Wirt,  and 
sees    Joseph    Bonaparte. —  Mentions    tollhouse's 


8  TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 

Poem  of  the  "  Last  Judgment,"  and  "  Percy's 
Masque,"  Cullen  Bryant's  Poem,  "  Life  of  John 
Wesley,"  etc. —  Mrs.  Thomas  Cary. —  Destruction 
of  the  "  Albion,"  and  Loss  of  Anne  Powell  and 
Professor  Fisher,  the  Betrothed  of  Miss  C. 
Beecher. —  She  visits  Stockbridge,  and  describes 
the  Sedgwick  Family. —  Death  of  Mrs.  Inches. — 
Death  of  George  Tyng. —  Birth  of  a  Daughter,         134-169 

CHAPTER  X. 

Religious  Interests. —  Agreement  of  my  Father  and 
Mother  in  Liberal  Views. —  Patience  with  Nar- 
rowness.—  "Parson  Williams." — His  Interest  in 
my  Father  as  a  Boy. —  My  Mother's  Efforts  for 
Liberal  Christianity. —  Her  Sunday-school  Class. 
—  Her  Letter  to  Mrs.  Murray  on  Controversial 
Topics. —  My  Aunt  Howe's  Letter  to  Miss  Cabot 
on  Calvinism. —  The  Establishment  of  the  Round 
Hill  School, 1 70-191 

CHAPTER  XI. 

My  Mother's  Health  and  Happiness. —  Letters  to 
Miss  Forbes  and  Mrs.  Greene. —  Village  News. — 
Round  Hill  School. —  Joseph  Lyman  and  John 
Forbes. —  Mary  Pickard. —  Caroline  Lee  Hentz. — 
Court  Week. —  Cattle  Show. —  Miss  Sedgwick. — 
Miss  Rotch. —  Cousin  Emma. —  Letters  from 
Mrs.  Lyman  and  Mrs.  Howe  to  Emma  on  her 
Departure  for  Europe, 192-213 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Typhoid  at  Brush  Hill.— Death  of  Mr.  Marshall 
Spring. —  Aunt  Howe  goes  to  nurse  her  Sis- 
ters.—  A  Faithful  Servant  dies. —  Letters  from 
Mrs.  Lyman. —  A  Dramatic  Entertainment  in 
Northampton     in     1S26. —  "The     Lady    of    the 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS  9 

Lake." —  Letters  to  Mrs.  Greene,  Catherine  Rob- 
bins,  Mrs.  Hentz,  etc. —  She  reads  Wordsworth's 
"Excursion"  with  Delight. —  "Woodstock"  and 
"  Hope  Leslie." —  First  Acquaintance  with  Mr. 
Ralph  Waldo  Emerson. —  Letter  to  Miss  Forbes. 

—  Death  of  Judge  Howe. —  Extracts  from  Mr. 
Rufus  Ellis's  Memoir  of  him. —  Grief  of  my 
Father  and  Mother. —  Extracts  from  Aunt  Howe's 
Memoir  of  her  Husband, 214-239 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Letters  to  my  Mother  after  Uncle  Howe's  Death. — 
Letter  from  R.  W.  Emerson. —  To  Emma  Forbes. 

—  Marriage  of  my  Sister  Mary  to  Mr.  Thomas 
Jones. —  Death  of  Annie  Jean  Greene. —  Letter 
from  R.  W.  Emerson,  introducing  Mr.  George  P. 
Bradford. —  Annie  Jean  goes  to  Mr.  George  B. 
Emerson's  School. —  Mrs.  Lyman  writes  to  Annie 
Jean  on  the  Subject  of  her  Dress. — -To  Mrs. 
Barnard. —  Her  Father's  Deaths — Letter  of  Con- 
dolence from  R.  W.  Emerson. —  Letter  from  G.  B. 
Emerson. —  To  Mrs.  Greene. —  News  of  Miss 
Debby  Barker, 240-259 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Her  Kindness  to  Young  Men. —  A  Lonely  Law  Stu- 
dent.—  Her  Habitual  Beneficences. —  To  Miss 
Forbes  mentions  Mrs.  Hall. —  Death  of  Elijah 
Mills.— Letter  to  John  M.  Forbes. —  To  Mrs. 
Greene. —  To  Miss  Forbes. —  To  C.  Robbins. — 
Describes  her  Sunday-school  Class. —  Revere 
Twins. —  The  Cholera  Year. —  Sister  Jane's  En- 
gagement.—  "Ware  on  the  Formation  of  the 
Christian  Character.'* — Sister  Jane's  Marriage. — 
The  Factory  Village. —  Anne  Jean  goes  to  Cin- 
cinnati.—  Her  Consideration  for  her  Father. — 
Dramatic    Entertainment,    etc. — ■  Edward    leaves 


io  TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 

Home. —  Judge  Lyman  to  Edward. —  Birth  of 
Hannah  E.  Brewer. —  Death  of  James  Jackson. — 
Mrs.  Lyman  to  Edward, 260-289 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Judge  Lyman  goes  to  Cincinnati  for  Anne  Jean. — 
Birth  of  William  Greene  Jones. —  Deaths  of  Sister 
Mary,  Brother  D wight,  Uncle  Lyman. —  Sally 
Lyman. —  Letter  to  Edward. —  To  Martha  Coch- 
ran.—  On  Bulwer's  Novels. —  Letter  to  Catherine 
Robbins. — -"Recollections  of  a  Housekeeper." — 
"Silvio  Pellico." — To  Edward. —  Illness  of  Mrs. 
Bliss. —  Celebration  at  Bloody  Brook. —  Edward 
Everett's  Oration. —  Miss  Martineau. —  Death  of 
Mrs.  Bliss. —  Anne  Jean's  Severe  Illness.— To 
Mrs.  Greene. —  Mrs.  Roger's  Beauty.— Letters 
to  Dr.  Austin  Flint. —  Daniel  Webster's  Visit.— 
Death  of  Mrs.  John  Howard. —  My  Mother's 
Power  of  Language. —  Anecdote  of  Aunt  Eliza. — 
Miss  Sedgwick. —  Letters  to  Edward. —  Her  Suf- 
ferings from  Sciatica. —  Death  of  Mrs.  Barnard. — 
Illness  of  Anne  Jean. —  Judge  Lyman  to  Edward. 
—  Death  of  Anne  Jean. —  Wonderful  Aurora. — 
Mrs.  Lyman  to  Dr.  Flint. —  R.  W.  Emerson  to 
Mrs.  Lyman, 290-320 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

Mourning  for  Anne  Jean. —  Letters  to  Edward  and 
Mrs.  Greene. —  To  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Flint. —  To  Mrs. 
Greene. —  "Letters  from  Palmyra." — "Pickwick 
Papers." — Criticism  of  Novels. —  To  Edward. — 
Marriage  of  H.  Shepherd. —  S.  G.  Bulfmch. —  Dr. 
Abbot. —  Miss  Hannah  Stearns. —  To  Edward. — 
Clay's  Abolition  Speech. —  Her  \Tiews  on  Abo- 
lition.— Betsey  Wallace.—  Billah.—  To  Mrs. 
Greene. —  Takes  a  Journey  to  Niagara. —  To 
Edward. —  Death  of  Dr.  Follen. —  J.  S.  Dvvight,    .  321-345 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS  1 1 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

Her  Relations  to  her  Neighbors. —  Absent-mindedness. 

—  Martha  Cochran. —  Dr.  Willard. —  Visit  to  Mrs. 
Howard  with  Dr.  Willard. —  Extract  from  Sophia 
Howard's  Letter. —  Anecdote  of  Martha  Cochran. 

—  Sewing  Circle. —  Mrs.  Hall. —  Gossip. —  Plain 
Speaking. —  Judge  Huntington  and  the  Melons. — 
"  Philothea." —  Her  Faith  in  Children. —  Shades 
in  her  Character. —  Want  of  Order. —  Contrast  in 
Household  Arrangements  of  Forty  Years  ago  to 
those    now. —  Judge   Shaw's   Visit. —  Her  Views 

about  Dirt. —  Baron  Roennd, 346-365 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Letter  to  Catherine  Robbins. —  Death  of  Mrs.  James 
Fowler. —  To  Edward. —  John  S.  Dwight. —  De 
Wette's  "  Ethics."  —  Theodore. —  Jouffroi  and 
Constant. —  Fichte's  "  Nature  of  a  Scholar." — 
Quotation  from  J.  S.  Dwight's  Sermon. —  Prof. 
Henry  B.  Smith.  • — ■  To  Miss  Robbins. —  De- 
scribes J.  S.  Dwight. —  Death  of  Stephen  Brewer 
by  Drowning. —  Letters  after  his  Death. —  To 
Mrs.  Greene  about  Books. —  To  Miss  Stearns. — 
Rufus  Ellis. —  To  Edward. —  Catherine's  Engage- 
ment to  Warren  Delano. —  Catherine's  Marriage. 

—  Coming  of  the  Railroad  to  Northampton. — 
To  Miss  Stearns  on  the  Death  of  Mrs.  Joseph 
Cabot. —  To  Miss  Robbins. —  Private  Theatricals. 

—  The  Rivals. —  Lyceum  Lecture  from  President 
Hopkins. —  To  Mrs.  Howe. —  Death  of  Mrs.  Hard- 
ing.—  Her  Severe  Illness. —  Edward"s  Engage- 
ment.—  Letter  to  Mrs.  Greene  about  Edward's 
Marriage.— Catherine's  Return  from  China. —  To 
Mr.  Richard  L.  Allen  on  her  Husband's  Death. — 
"Jane  Eyre,"  and  her  Criticism  on  it. —  To  Edward 
on  the  Birth  of  his  Child. —  To  C.  Robbins. — 
Mr.  Simmons. —  Mr.  George  Ellis. —  To  Sarah. — 


12  TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 

John  Quincy  Adams. —  Theodore  Parker's  Eu- 
logy.—  To  Mrs.  Greene. —  To  William  Sydney 
Thayer. —  Mr.  Theodore  Lyman. —  Cordial  Men- 
tion of  Mr.  Rufus  Ellis. —  To  Edward,  after  Birth 
of  his  Second  Son, 366-411 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Reminiscences  of  my  Father. —  My  Mother's  Daily 
Life. —  Characteristic  Anecdotes. —  Her  Embroid- 
ery.—  Her  Hospitality. —  Style  of  Living. —  Read- 
ing.—  Gladness  in  giving  Pleasure  to  the  Young. 

—  Court  Week. —  The  Judges. —  Her  Friendli- 
ness.—  Mrs.     Bulfinch. —  Shakspeare     Readings. 

—  Her  Wit. —  Anecdotes. —  Views  on  the  Educa- 
tion of  Children. —  Their  Dress. —  "  Blue  Mortifi- 
cation."—  Story  of  the  Garters. —  Her  Freedom 
from  Resentment. —  Letter  to  Catherine  on  Moral 
Teaching. —  The  Marchioness. —  Dislike  of  Affec- 
tation.—  Her  Small  Interest  in  Externals. —  Anec- 
dotes,      412-449 

CHAPTER  XX. 

My  Father's  Death. —  Disparity  of  Years. —  Her  Lack 
of  Patience. —  111  Health  and  Overwork  tell  on 
her. —  Summer  of  1848. —  Memoir  of  Dr.  Chan- 
ning. —  Her  Friendship  for  Mrs.  Thayer  and  In- 
terest in  her  Sons. —  Note  from  John  G.  Whittier. 

—  Grave  of  William  Sydney  Thayer  at  Alexan- 
dria.—  Lady  Duff  Gordon. —  Mrs.  Ross. —  Letter 
from  Prof.  J.  B.  Thayer. —  Chauncey  Wright. — 
"Goblin  Tapestry." — Her  Narrow  Means  and 
Rich  Heart. —  "  Cheeryble  Sisters." — Anecdote 
of  Aunt  Howe's  Kindness. —  Death  of  Little 
Edward. —  Marriage  of  Susan  Inches. —  Mr. 
R.  W.  Emerson  lectures  at  Northampton. — 
Her    Loneliness. —  She    leaves    Northampton. — 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS  13 

Spends  a  Winter  in  Cincinnati. —  Death  of  Dr. 
E.  H.  Robbins. —  Returns  to  Milton  for  a  Year. — 
Visits  Northampton. —  Returns  to  Milton,    .    .     •  450-468 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

Takes  a  House  in  Cambridge  in  1853. —  Death  of  Eliza 
Robbins. —  Her  Character  and  Intellect  and 
Friends. —  My  Mother  moves  to  another  House. 
—  "  Mary  Walker." —  Her  Life  in  Cambridge. — 
Her  Steady  Decline. —  Kindness  of  Neighbors  and 
Relatives. —  Extracts  from  her  Letters. —  Death 
of  Sister  Jane. —  Two  Incidents  in  her  Later 
Life. —  She  goes  to  the  McLean  Asylum. —  Nancy 
Young. —  Kindness  of  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Tyler  and 
Miss  Barbour. —  Her  Death. —  Funeral. —  My 
Brother  Joseph's  Letter. —  The  End, 469-479 

Appendix, 4S1-498 


LIST  OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

Mrs.  Anne  Jean  Lyman Frontispiece 

From  a  crayon  by  D.  O.  Kimberly. 

The  House  at  Brush  Hill,  Milton 36 

From  a  drawing  by  Fllen  S.  Bulfinch. 

The  House  at  Northampton 72 

From  a  drawing  by  Fllen  S.  Bulfinch. 
Judge  Joseph  Lyman       84 

From  a  painting  by  Chester  Harding. 
The  House  at  Cambridge       470 

From  a  drawing  by  Ellen  S.  Bulfinch. 


CHAPTER   I, 

From  yon  blue  heavens  above  us  bent, 
The  gardener  Adam  and  his  wife 

Smile  at  the  claims  of  long  descent. 
Ilowe'er  it  be,  it  seems  to  me, 

'Tis  only  noble  to  be  good. 

Kind  hearts  are  more  than  coronets, 

And  simple  faith  than  Norman  blood. 


Tennyson. 


ANNE  JEAN  ROBBINS  was  born  in  Milton, 
Massachusetts,  on  the  third  day  of  July,  1789. 
She  was  the  third  child  of  the  Hon.  Edward  Hutch- 
inson Robbins,  a  man  of  noble  character  and  warm 
heart,  who  has  left  to  his  descendants  the  richest  of 
all  inheritances,  in  the  fine  flavor  of  humanity  that 
has  kept  his  memory  green,  even  to  the  third  and 
fourth  generation.  The  house  where  Anne  Jean 
first  saw  the  light  is  still  standing  on  Milton  Hill, 
and  is  known  as  the  Churchill  house.  The  maiden 
name  of  Anne's  mother  was  Elizabeth  Murray,  and 
Anne  was  named  by  her  for  two  Scotch  aunts,  Anne 
and  Jean  Bennet.  She  was  a  woman  of  great  intel- 
ligence and  force  of  character,  and  had  passed  the 
greater  part  of  her  life  in  Milton, —  marrying  in 
youth  the  son  of  the  former  beloved  minister  of  the 
town,  the  Rev.  Nathaniel  Robbins. 

In    a    sermon    preached    in    Milton    at    the    two 
hundredth    anniversary    of    the    First    Church,    by 


1 8  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

Rev.  Frederic  Frothingham,  occurs  this  passage : 
"  Mr  Nathaniel  Robbins  was  ordained  February  1 3, 
1750-51.  A  long  and  honorable  service  was  his, 
running  through  four  and  forty  years,  closing  with 
his  death,  May  19,  1795, —  a  period  heaving  with  the 
agitations  of  the  Revolution.  Mr.  Robbins  was  a 
patriot.  At  the  battle  of  Lexington,  fought  when 
he  was  fifty  years  of  age,  two  of  his  brothers  were  in 
Capt.  Parker's  company.  He  seems  to  have  been 
eminently  a  man  of  affairs,  and  in  1788  was  sent  by 
the  town  to  the  convention  which  adopted  the  Fed- 
eral Constitution.  His  practical  wisdom  showed 
itself  in  various  ways.  At  his  ordination  a  settle- 
ment of  ;£iooo  old  tenor  —  equal  to  $500  —  was 
allowed  him,  and  a  salary  of  ^500,  or  $250,  per 
annum,  and  25  cords  of  wood.  But  he  bought  land 
and  built  him  a  house  and  gradually  acquired  a 
considerable  farm  —  now  owned  by  Col.  H.  S.  Rus- 
sell—  which  doubtless  was  a  faithful  friend  to  him, 
as  well  as  an  abode  of  hospitality  to  many  others  in 
those  distressful  days.  Then  he  showed  rare  tact 
and  skill  in  adjusting  apparently  unmanageable  dis- 
putes. It  appeared  again  in  his  high  personal  integ- 
rity, which,  did  men  but  know  it,  or  would  they 
but  believe  it,  is  really  wisdom.  In  his  preaching, 
says  Thos.  Thacher ,  '  he  refused  to  call  any  man 
master  on  cartli,  or  to  sacrifice  truth  to  prevailing 
opinions,  however  conducive  to  popularity,  to  con- 
sideration and  consequence.  Such  candor  and  lib- 
eral principles  were  the  more  deserving  of  praise, 
since,  in  the  first  period  of  his  ministry,  such  a  spirit 
and  temper  were  not  common.'     So,  in  preaching, 


INHERITANCE  AND  INFLUENCE  19 

'  plain  and  pathetick  ; '  in  prayer,  '  apt  and  easy  ; '  in 
charity,  so  large  and  just  that  he  would  not  allow 
even  the  good  in  bad  men  to  be  forgotten  ;  in  ser- 
vice to  the  unfortunate,  the  sick,  the  sorrowing,  and 
the  young,  tender  and  faithful ;  is  it  wonder  that  he 
kept  his  church  free  from  fanaticism  and  united  and 
rational  ?  How  much  he  may  have  served  to  pre- 
pare for  the  changes  that  were  to  come  when  the 
Unitarian  controversy  broke  out,  we  may  imagine, 
though  we  can  never  know." 

The  history  of  any  life  must  necessarily  include 
the  lives  of  many  others.  A  friend  once  said  to  me, 
"No  one  can  be  a  Christian  alone."  And  in  fact 
no  human  being  leads  an  isolated  life.  One  is  as 
surely  all  the  time  acted  upon  by  one's  inheritance, 
surroundings,  and  companionship,  as  one  reacts  on 
these.  In  the  condition  to  which  she  was  born,  the 
scenery  amidst  which  she  lived,  the  persons  by 
whom  she  was  surrounded,  and  the  family  traditions 
dear  to  her  childhood,  Anne  Jean  was  peculiarly 
blessed;  and  I  shall  tell  you  all  I  know  of  them, 
because  her  personal  individuality,  though  striking, 
was  not  more  ■  so  than  her  quality  of  family  and 
social  affection. 

My  cousin,  Dr.  Estes  Howe,  writes  of  our  grand- 
father, and  the  father  of  Anne  Jean,  the  following 
sketch  :  — 

"Our  grandfather  I  presume  you  do  not  remem- 
ber, as  you  were  so  young  when  he  died.  He  was 
a  tall,  large  man,  very  erect  and  dignified  in  his  look. 
His   face,  as   his  picture    shows,  was   very  like    his 


20  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

son's,  our  uncle  Edward's,  in  his  later  years.  His 
countenance  had  the  same  benign  look  —  a  look 
which  I  think  comes  finally  to  the  face  of  every  one 
who  leads,  as  he  did,  a  life  full  of  good  will  and  good 
works.  He  was  born  as  you  know  in  1757,  and 
graduated  at  Harvard  in  1775,  being  eighteen  years 
old.  He  must  have  taken  his  degree  at  Concord,  to 
which  place  the  college  was  removed  when  the  army 
were  collected  at  Cambridge.  The  last  time  I  saw 
him  at  Brush  Hill  was  on  the  4th  of  July,  when  I 
was  a  freshman,  in  1829.  He  pointed  out  to  me  a 
wooden-bottomed  armed  chair  as  his  college  chair, 
and  told  me  that  he  had  only  one  coat  all  the  time 
he  was  in  college  —  this  notwithstanding  he  was  the 
son  of  a  lady  who  was  considered  rich. 

"  He  soon  became  a  person  of  note  at  home,  and 
was  at  the  age  of  twenty-three  a  member  of  the 
convention  that  formed  the  constitution  of  the  State 
of  Massachusetts.  He  was  married  in  1785,  and 
went  to  house-keeping  on  Milton  Hill,  where  I 
believe  all  his  children  except  my  mother  were 
born.  She  was  born  in  Boston,  in  a  house  he  in- 
herited from  his  mother,  near  Brazer's  Building,  on 
State  Street.  In  1786,  he  bought  a  township  of 
land  in  Maine,  and  called  it  Robbinston.  He  took 
several  Milton  families  clown,  whose  descendants  — ■ 
Brewers,  Voses,  Briggs,  &c. —  are  still  there.  He 
built  several  vessels  there,  and  continued  in  fact  to 
work  busily  and  earnestly  over  the  enterprise  till 
the  day  of  his  death.  He  always  went  there  at  least 
once  a  year, —  a  voyage  that  had  to  be  made  in  a 
coasting  vessel.  His  last  visit  was  made  only  a 
couple  of  months  before  his  death. 


EDWARD  HUTCHINSON  ROB  BINS  21 

"The  enterprise  was  not  a  profitable  one;  and 
what  with  that  and  the  loss  of  several  vessels  by 
French  privateers,  he  lost  all  his  property,  and  about 
1804  sold  out  at  Milton  Hill,  and  removed  to  Brush 
Hill,  which  place  belonged  in  part  to  his  wife,  our 
grandmother ;  the  other  part  belonging  to  her  sister, 
Aunt  Forbes,  was  purchased.  And  so  the  family 
ark  rested  there,  where  your  mother  and  mine,  and 
all  the  rest,  grew  up. 

"  Our  grandfather  was  constantly  in  public  life ; 
and,  in  1793,  he  was  elected  Speaker  of  the  Massa- 
chusetts House  of  Representatives.  His  remarkable 
memory  for  men  and  their  faces,  his  knowledge 
about  them,  and  his  general  popularity  caused  his 
re-election  annually  for  nine  years  ;  at  the  end  of 
which  time  he  was  chosen  Lieutenant-governor,  an 
office  he  continued  to  hold  for  seven  years,  soon 
after  which  he  was  appointed  Judge  of  Probate.  In 
this  office  he  died. 

"  This  last  office  gave  special  scope  to  his  kindly 
qualities.  The  widows  and  orphans  of  the  county 
found  in  him  a  sure  and  sympathizing  friend  and 
guardian,  and  his  wonderful  memory  made  him  in  a 
short  time  acquainted  with  the  genealogy  and  busi- 
ness and  property  of  the  whole  county. 

"But  you  want  to  know  what  I  remember  of  him. 
I  remember  him  simply  as  one  who  always  had  a 
kind  or  thoughtful  word  for  me  when  I  met  him ; 
who  seemed  to  be,  as  he  was,  most  tenderly  loved  by 
his  children,  and  very  full  of  love  for  them,  lie 
was  away  from  home  almost  every  clay,  either  over 
at  Dedham  or  in  Boston,  and  was  very  apt  to  be  at 


22  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

home  rather  late  for  tea.  I  recollect  riding  home 
from  Boston  more  than  once  with  him.  He  had  a 
habit  of  talking  to  himself,  and  I  was  a  little  fright- 
ened at  it,  which  he  seemed  to  appreciate,  for  every 
now  and  then  he  would  stop,  whip  up  the  horse,  and 
begin  talking  to  me ;  then  very  soon  he  would  fall 
off  into  his  own  line  of  thought  and  talk  to  himself 
again.  When  my  father  died  he  was  deeply  grieved, 
and  his  heart  seemed  to  be  oppressed  and  full  of 
sympathy  for  mother.  I  was  at  that  time  at  school 
at  North  Andover ;  a  few  weeks  after  father's  death, 
he  drove  up  there  in  his  chaise  on  Saturday  night,  a 
journey  of  twenty-five  miles,  and  brought  up  Tracy 
to  spend  Sunday  with  me.  He  was  then  more  than 
seventy,  and  I  think  few  old  gentlemen  of  that  age 
would  have  made  such  an  exertion  for  a  school-boy ; 
but  it  seemed  so  natural  an  act  for  him  to  do  that  it 
did  not  impress  me  then  as  it  has  since.  But  that 
was  the  way  he  passed  through  life  ;  and  although 
never  prosperous  in  business,  indeed  sometimes 
really  pinched  by  poverty,  I  think  he  had  a  very 
happy  life,  because  he  took  so  much  pleasure  in 
doing  kindly  acts,  and  he  did  so  many  of  them. 

"The  last  time  I  saw  him  was  on  his  death-bed. 
He  died  at  Aunt  Mary  Revere's,  where  he  was  ill 
about  a  month.  A  few  days  before  his  death  I 
went  in  to  see  him,  and  he  gave  me  a  most  affection- 
ate parting  benediction,  with  a  few  words  of  advice, 
which  I  have  not  followed  so  well  as  would  have 
been  for  my  benefit.  This  seems  a  meagre  state- 
ment, and  so  it  is.  It  is  forty-five  years  since  he 
died,  and  what  is  left  to  me  of  him  is  the  impres- 


STOCKINGFUL  OF  SPANISH  DOLLARS        23 

sion  of  a  noble,  high-minded,  affectionate  man,  whom 
I  revered  and  loved.  If  I  can  leave  as  pleasant  an 
impression  upon  the  memories  of  my  grandchildren 
I  shall  be  happy." 

I  will  not  add  much  to  the  simple  and  beautiful 
statement  of  my  cousin  Estes  about  our  grandfather, 
for  I  have  only  one  recollection  of  him,  as  I  was  but 
six  years  old  when  he  died.  I  recall  one  of  his  visits 
to  Northampton,  and  his  standing  at  our  front  door, 
where  he  took  leave  of  my  father  and  my  uncle, 
Judge  Howe.  Although  they  were  tall  men,  he 
towered  above  them,  and  there  was  something  grand 
and  majestic  in  his  whole  aspect;  although  nothing 
impressed  one  so  much  about  him  as  the  wealth  of 
affection  in  his  heart,  which  gave  to  his  whole 
manner  and  bearing  a  warmth,  cordiality,  and  sym- 
pathy one  rarely  sees  so  fully  expressed. 

I  remember  our  brother,  Stephen  Brewer,  who 
knew  him  well,  speaking  of  him  in  the  highest 
terms  after  I  was  a  woman  grown.  I  had  so  little 
recollection  of  him  myself  that  it  was  delightful  to 
me  to  hear  him  talk  of  grandfather.  He  told  me 
once,  that  when  he  was  a  boy,  a  clerk  in  some  store 
in  Boston,  where  grandfather  had  placed  him,  the 
old  gentleman  walked  in  with  a  gray  stocking  in  his 
hand,  the  foot  of  which  was  full  of  Spanish  dollars. 
"Stephen,  my  little  man,"  said  he,  "take  care  of 
this  for  me  ;  it's  a  new  stocking,  and  my  daughter 
Cassy  knit  it  for  me."  So  Stephen  put  it  away,  and 
grandfather  forgot  it  from  that  hour.  But,  three 
months  later,  he  came  into  the  store  in  much  afflic- 


24  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

tion.  "Stephen,  my  little  man,"  said  he,  "I've 
lost  a  stocking  like  this,"  showing  the  mate ;  "  and 
I'm  so  sorry.  My  daughter  Cassy  knit  them,"  he 
said  tenderly,  "  and  I  would  not  lose  them  for  any- 
thing." "  I  produced  the  stocking,  with  the  Spanish 
dollars  tied  up  in  the  foot,"  said  Stephen,  "and  there 
was  no  affectation  about  it  :  he  really  cared  more 
about  finding  the  stocking  his  daughter  had  knit  him 
than  he  did  for  the  money."  His  careless  habits 
were  proverbial ;  and  my  cousin  Bennet  Forbes  re- 
lates the  following :  — 

"Your  grandfather  Robbins  was  not  remarkable 
for  the  nicety  of  his  dress  or  equipage.  He  for  a 
long  time  drove  around  the  country  in  an  old  yellow- 
bodied  chaise,  with  an  aged  bay  mare,  that  he  called 
'the  colt,'  for  many  years.  I  remember  very  well 
his  habit  of  talking  to  himself  and  to  the  mare,  while 
driving  along,  and  my  amusement  at  this,  to  me, 
great  novelty.  I  remember  his  coming  to  see  us 
before  we  built  the  mansion  house  on  Milton  Hill, 
about  1828,  in  a  sleigh.  The  weather  was  very  cold, 
and  he  had  no  mittens  or  gloves.  I  bought  a  nice 
pair  of  fur-lined  gloves  and  sent  them  to  him.  He 
came  again,  apparently  nearly  frozen,  and  still  with- 
out gloves.  I  asked  him  if  he  had  received  the  pair 
I  sent  him.  He  answered,  '  Oh,  yes,  my  dear,  they 
arc  in  the  sleigh ; '  on  examination  I  found  them 
under  the  cushion,  and  it  was  clear  they  had  never 
been  worn."  But  cousin  Bennet  adds,  what  every 
one  thought  who  knew  him,  that  his  desire  to  bless 
and  serve  others,  and  his  untiring  kindness,  were  the 
prominent  traits  of  his  character. 


A  MASSACHUSETTS  POST  IN  1739  25 

My  grandfather  possessed  one  striking  character- 
istic, which  has  been  handed  down  to  more  than  one 
of  his  descendants,  but  which  my  mother  inherited 
in  a  rare  degree.  It  was  that  power  of  taking  cog- 
nizance of  the  relations  between  persons  and  events 
which  grows  out  of  a  large  humanity  and  not  from 
an  interest  in  idle  gossip,  except  as  giving  opportu- 
nity for  service.  The  following  little  anecdote  related 
of  my  grandfather  not  only  illustrates  this  quality  of 
his  mind,  but  throws  a  side  light  on  the  inadequate 
postal  facilities  of  that  early  time. 

One  day  two  gentlemen  were  walking  through  the 
State  House,  about  the  year  1795,  when  one  said  to 

the  other,  "  My  friend,  Mr.  ,  is  very  anxious  to 

get  a  letter  to  his  wife  in  Hardvvick  no  later  than 
Sunday  (it  was  then  Friday),  and  the  weekly  post  does 
not  go  till  next  Wednesday.  Can  you  tell  me  of  any 
way  he  can  send  it?"  "No,  I  can't,"  replied  the 
friend  ;  "  but  the  Speaker  of  the  House,  Mr.  Rob- 
bins,  is  sitting  there  at  his  desk,  and,  if  any  man  in 
Massachusetts  can  tell  you,  he  can."  They  ap- 
proached the  desk,  and  asked  the  question.  "Why, 
yes,"  said  Mr.  Robbins,  directly:  "the  member  from 
Petersham  is  going  home  to-morrow  to  spend  Sun- 
day with  his  family.  Now  Petersham  is  only  six 
miles  from  Hardwick,  and  his  hired  man  is  courting  a 
girl  at  Hardwick  and  goes  over  there  to  see  her 
every  Sunday,  and  he  will  carry  your  friend's  letter." 

Of  Anne  Jean's  mother,  there  are  many  that  can 
still  recall  her  stately  air  and  manner,  her  vigorous 
mind  and  high  spirit.  But  she  must  have  been  a 
very  different  person  from  our  grandfather;  and   I 


26  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

cannot  but  think  that  her  life  had  many  trials.  For 
she  had  strong  family  feeling,  and  stronger  proclivi- 
ties for  Old-World  customs  and  habits ;  and  the 
restricted  life  she  had  to  lead,  with  many  cares  and 
small  means,  must  have  been  hard  for  one  who  had 
been  sent  to  England  for  her  education  in  youth,  and 
who  was  not  permitted  by  her  aunt  to  wear  a  thimble 
lest  it  should  injure  the  shape  of  her  finger.  The 
names  of  her  children  were  Eliza,  Sarah  Lydia,  Anne 
Jean,  Edward,  Mary,  James,  and  Catherine.  They 
had  reason  to  be  grateful  for  strong  traits  of  char- 
acter inherited  from  both  parents. 

Many  interesting  facts  might  be  told  about  Anne 
Jean's  ancestry  to  those  who  are  curious  in  such 
lore ;  but,  as  the  streams  are  numerous  which  flow 
into  the  river  of  human  character,  our  arithmetic 
fails  us  when  we  come  to  trace  the  various  lines,  all 
more  or  less  interesting.  She  herself  took  pleasure 
in  thinking  of  the  homes  in  the  Old  World  from 
which  her  mother's  family,  the  Murrays,  had  sprung; 
but  the  interest  was  purely  romantic  and  historic, 
and  only  helped  to  inspire  her  imagination.  It  was 
as  far  as  possible  removed  from  that  family  pride 
that  delights  to  claim  connection  with  titled  or 
wealthy  ancestry.  In  our  late  war,  when  all  New 
England  suffered  from  that  lack  of  sympathy  with 
our  cause  shown  by  Old  England,  it  was  impossible 
for  the  English  to  understand  our  sensitiveness. 
They  had  no  realization  of  the  tenderness  of  our 
hearts  towards  the  home  we  came  from,  nor  how  all 
descendants  of  the  Puritans  look  back,  as  Anne  Jean 
did  to  that  of  her  ancestors,  as  if  they  have  still   a 


ANNE  HUTCHINSON'S  DESCENDANTS       27 

belonging  there ;  very  different  from  any  feeling  we 
can  have  about  any  other  country.  I  never  heard 
her  speak  of  a  crest  or  a  coat-of-arms  in  her  life ;  but 
the  motto  on  the  crest  of  the  Hutchinson  family, 
" N011  sibi,  scd  toti"  might  well  have  stood  for  the 
watchword  of  her  own  unselfish  life. 

It  is  a  little  odd,  that,  out  of  one's  eight  great- 
great-grandmothers,  we  should  select  one  as  our 
especial  ancestor,  and  prize  the  infinitesimal  drop  of 
her  blood  that  has  come  down  to  us  more  than  an 
equal  amount  from  other  good  sources.  But  the 
truth  is,  it  is  impossible  to  know  much  of  any  one 
whom  history  has  not  recorded ;  and  so  it  is  in 
human  nature  to  value  the  known  above  the  un- 
known. 

The  mother  of  Anne  Jean's  father,  born  Elizabeth 
Hutchinson,  was  a  descendant  of  the  famous  Anne 
Hutchinson,  in  the  fourth  generation.  The  history 
of  Anne  Hutchinson  and  her  tragical  career  has 
been  ably  treated  by  many  historians  —  Drake,  Hil- 
dreth,  Ellis,  and  Bancroft ;  so  that  it  is  not  worth 
while  for  me  to  dwell  on  it  here.  In  an  account  of 
the  Hutchinson  family,  written  by  my  cousin  Sarah 
Howe,  and  in  possession  of  my  Aunt  Revere,  she 
quotes  from  Bancroft  the  following  sentence  :  "  The 
principles  of  Anne  Hutchinson  were  a  natural  con- 
sequence of  the  progress  of  the  Reformation.  She 
asserted  that  the  conscious  judgment  of  the  mind  is 
the  highest  authority  to  itself.  The  true  tendency 
of  her  principles  is  best  established  by  examining 
the  institutions  which  were  founded  by  her  followers. 
The  spirit  of  the  institutions  founded  by  this  band 


28  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

of  exiles  on  the  soil  which  they  owed  to  the  benevo- 
lence of  the  natives  (Miantonomoh)  was  derived  from 
natural  justice.  The  colony  rested  on  the  principle 
of  intellectual  liberty.  The  colony  at  Rhode  Island 
consisted  of  William  and  Anne  Hutchinson,  William 
Coddington,  and  John  Clarke.  It  was  ordered  in 
their  constitution,  '  that  none  be  accounted  a  delin- 
quent for  doctrine;'  and  the  law  of  liberty  of  con- 
science was  perpetuated.  They  were  held  together 
by  the  bonds  of  affection  and  freedom  of  opinion ; 
benevolence  was  their  rule ;  they  trusted  in  the  power 
of  love  to  win  the  victory,  and  the  signet  for  the 
State  was  a  sheaf  of  arrows,  with  the  motto,  Amor 
vincit  omnia" 

A  little  tract  was  published  in  1676,  under  the 
title  of  "  A  Glass  for  the  People  of  New  England," 
by  S.  Gorton,  in  which  he  says,  "  The  next  piece  of 
wickedness  I  am  to  mind  you  of,  is  your  barbarous 
action  committed  against  Mrs.  Anne  Hutchinson, 
whom  you  first  imprisoned,  then  banished,  and  ex- 
posed her  to  such  desolate  condition,  that  she  fell 
into  the  hands  of  the  Indians,  who  murdered  her 
with  her  family. 

"  In  contemplating  the  furious  and  desperate  viru- 
lence of  the  colonists  towards  Anne  Hutchinson,  we 
discern  a  striking  illustration  of  the  destructive 
influences  of  bigotry  and  persecution  upon  all  the 
finer  and  more  amiable  sentiments  of  humanity. 
Indeed,  no  excellence  of  nature  or  of  principle,  no 
strength  or  refinement  of  character,  is  proof  against 
the  debasing  power  of  intolerance.  To  be  bigoted 
is  to  be  cruel  ;  to  persecute  another  is  to  barbarize 


THE  HUTCHINSON  FAMILY  29 

one's  self."  Bancroft  says  of  the  Antinomians,  that 
"they  sustained  with  intense  fanaticism  the  para- 
mount right  of  private  judgment.  The  founder  of 
this  sect  was  Anne  Hutchinson,  a  woman  of  such 
admirable  understanding  and  profitable  and  sober 
carriage,  that  she  won  a  powerful  party  in  the  col- 
onies, and  even  her  enemies  could  not  speak  of  her 
without  acknowledging  her  eloquence  and  ability. 
She  received  encouragement  from  Mr.  Wheelwright 
and  Governor  Vane,  and  a  majority  of  Boston 
people  sustained  her  against  the  clergy.  Scholars 
and  men  of  learning,  members  of  the  magistracy  and 
the  general  court  adopted  her  opinions." 

I  would  record  here  the  noticeable  fact  of  which 
my  cousin  makes  mention,  that  the  honored  name  of 
Edward  Hutchinson  was  borne  by  the  father  of 
Anne  Hutchinson's  husband,  who  lived  and  died  in 
Alford,  England,  not  far  from  Old  Boston,  in  Lin- 
colnshire. It  was  very  probably  borne  before  his 
day,  as  the  family  can  be  traced  back  to  1282.  But 
he  was  the  first  Edward  Hutchinson  we  know,  and 
the  name  has  been  borne  by  some  descendant  in 
every  one  of  the  ten  generations  since,  a  period 
extending  over  nearly  two  hundred  and  fifty  years. 
The  grandson  of  Anne  Hutchinson,  who  bore  the 
name  of  Edward,  was  one  whom  we  should  remem- 
ber with  peculiar  gratitude.  He  removed  to  Boston 
in  1644-45,  was  chosen  deputy  from  Boston  in  165  1, 
and  in  165S,  when  the  sanguinary  laws  against 
Quakers  were  made,  he  and  his  friend  Thomas 
Clarke  requested  that  their  dissent  might  be  re- 
corded.    The  daughter  of  Thomas  Clarke  had  mar- 


30  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

ried  the  son  of  Edward  Hutchinson.  In  Drake's 
"  History  of  Boston  "  he  mentions  that  "  these  two 
eminent  merchants  Thomas  Clarke  and  Edward 
Hutchinson  entered  their  dissent  against  the  cruel 
laws  in  regard  to  the  Quakers,  which  seems  a  more 
potent  expression  in  regard  to  the  only  men  who 
appear  to  have  been  influenced  by  motives  of  hu- 
manity towards  an  oppressed  class." 

So  much  for  Anne  Jean's  Hutchinson  ancestry. 
1  have  heard  her  say,  in  later  years,  that  the  virtues 
of  one's  ancestors  were  as  much  a  subject  for  per- 
sonal humiliation  as  for  family  pride.  For  if  we 
have  only  taken  the  virtues  handed  down  to  us, 
without  adding  to  them  or  exalting  them,  we  are  like 
the  receiver  of  talents  who  has  laid  them  up  in 
a  napkin. 


CHAPTER   II. 


"  Assist  us,  Lord,  to  act,  to  be 
What  Nature  and  Thy  laws  decree  : 
Worthy  that  intellectual  flame 
Which  from  Thy  breathing  spirit  came." 


ANNE  JEAN'S  early  childhood  was  passed  on 
Milton  Hill,  and  through  life  she  retained  the 
happiest  associations  with  that  beautiful  scenery. 
As  any  other  healthy  child  would,  she  lived  much 
in  the  open  air,  and  roved  about  the  hill,  rejoicing 
in  the  distant  view  of  the  Blue  Hills  in  one  direc- 
tion, and  Boston  Harbor  in  the  other,  and  the  rising 
and  falling  tide  of  the  Neponset  below  the  hill, 
which  gives  such  variety  to  the  whole  scene  at 
different  hours  of  the  day.  She  was  a  remarkably 
vigorous  child,  and  delighted  in  climbing  trees  and 
walking  on  stone  walls,  and  in  all  other  out-of-door 
sports.  She  was  a  great  favorite  with  Dr.  Hok 
brook,  who  was  the  esteemed  and  beloved  physician 
of  that  scattered  neighborhood.  He  often  took  her 
in  his  chaise  when  he  went  to  visit  his  patients; 
and  in  his  old  age  he  spoke  to  me  of  her  beautiful 
childhood,  her  witty  little  remarks,  and  her  cease- 
less activity.  He  never  tired  of  relating  his  diffi- 
culty in  keeping  her  quiet,  after  she  had  broken  her 
arm    in    falling  from  a  stone  wall,    where    she    had 


32  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

climbed  to  witness  a  raising ;  and  what  a  miracle  it 
was  that  the  bone  knit  so  nicely  when  she  was  in 
such  perpetual  motion. 

When  I  was  a  child,  and  visited  at  the  Forbes 
mansion  house  on  Milton  Hill,  the  little  old-fash- 
ioned school-house  was  still  standing  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  road,  where  Anne  Jean  went  to  school 
in  her  childhood.  The  little  belfry,  from  which  the 
bell  sweetly  called  the  children  to  school,  seemed 
to  me  then  a  fine  structure.  At  one  time  Miss  Ann 
Bent,  a  woman  of  rare  and  noble  character,  and 
a  life-long  friend  of  the  family,  kept  the  school ; 
and  Anne  always  loved  to  recall  the  months  that  she 
passed  under  her  instruction. 

The  recollections  of  childhood  seldom  leave,  in 
later  life,  especially  if  that  life  be  overflowing  with 
activity,  any  very  marked  incidents  to  dwell  on. 
And  this  was  the  case  with  Anne  Jean's.  She  once 
spoke  of  being  much  pleased  that,  when  the  funeral 
celebration  of  George  Washington  occurred,  she  was 
dressed  in  white  with  a  broad  black  ribbon  around 
her  straw  hat,  and  a  black  sash  around  the  waist. 

Some  years  the  family  were  in  the  habit  of  going 
into  Boston  in  the  winter,  and  they  either  took 
a  furnished  house  for  a  few  months,  or  went  to 
a  boarding-house.  They  were  always  forced  to 
practise  habits  of  close  personal  economy;  but  an 
open-handed  hospitality,  united  to  simplicity  of  liv- 
ing, made  them  rich  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word. 
And  so  Anne  grew  up  in  an  atmosphere  of  cordial 
giving  ;  and  that  quality  which  was  hers  by  nature 
and  inheritance  must  have  become  a  second  nature, 


HER  EA  RL  Y  SELE-  CONFIDE  A  'CE  3  3 

from  the  habitual  influence  of  those  around  her. 
My  grandmother  was  kind  to  old  family  friends  or 
dependants,  never  forgetting  the  humblest  servant 
who  had  at  any  time  formed  a  part  of  the  house- 
hold ;  and  Anne  inherited  this  trait,  along  with  that 
wider  humanity  which  belonged  peculiarly  to  her 
father — a  humanity  that  took  in  every  one,  of  any 
name  or  race  or  color,  that  needed  kindness. 

When  Anne  was  ten  years  old,  and  many  years 
after  there  had  ceased  to  be  any  young  children  in 
the  family,  my  grandmother  had  a  little  daughter, 
whose  birth  excited  the  warmest  emotions  of  affec- 
tion and  delight  in  Anne's  heart.  Her  sister,  my 
aunt  Mary  Revere,  tells  me  that  when  it  was  stated 
in  the  family  a  month  later,  that  the  baby  was  to  be 
sent  to  a  wet-nurse  who  lived  three  miles  away, 
Anne's  grief  and  indignation  knew  no  bounds. 
When  the  nurse  was  starting  from  the  front  door 
with  the  baby,  she  cried  and  screamed  loudly,  calling 
out,  "  I  can  take  care  of  the  baby,  I  can  bring  her  up 
by  hand  ;  I  know  I  can."  And  when,  in  spite  of  her 
protestations,  both  nurse  and  baby  disappeared,  she 
cried  till  she  was  nearly  worn  out.  In  this  behavior 
at  ten  years  of  age,  a  prophetic  eye  might  have 
seen  a  foreshadowing  of  that  grand  self-confidence 
that  never  in  later  years  shrank  from  any  responsi- 
bility. 

After  passing  her  childhood  alternately  at  the 
Milton  village-school  and  a  few  months  of  nearly 
every  year  at  some  school  in  Hoston,  until  she  was 
between  thirteen  and  fourteen  years  of  age,  Anne 
was  sent  to  Dorchester  for  what   was  considered  a 


34  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

rather  superior  course  of  education,  at  the  boarding- 
school  of  Miss  Beach  and  Miss  Saunders ;  and  there 
she  remained  two  years.  I  have  in  my  hand  the  old- 
fashioned  blank-book  —  its  paper  yellow  with  age  — 
on  the  fly-leaf  of  which  she  had  printed,  in  large 
clear  letters,  "Ann  Jean  Robbins's  book,  at  the 
Ladies'  Academy,  Dorchester;  July  20th,  1803."* 
One  half  of  the  book  is  taken  up  with  sections,  as 
they  are  called,  describing  the  "Use  of  the  Globes." 
And  the  fine,  large,  clear  handwriting,  the  exact 
definitions  of  globes,  spheres,  properties  of  spheres, 
climates,  circles,  declinations,  and  ascensions,  to- 
gether with  the  perfect  spelling,  make  me  believe 
that  the  child  of  thirteen  received  excellent  instruc- 
tion at  the  Ladies'  Academy;  although  she  left 
school  at  sixteen,  with  few  accomplishments,  and 
no  knowledge  of  languages  except  a  small  acquisi- 
tion of  French  and  Latin.  Even  these  she  valued 
through  life  simply  because  they  had  taught  her  the 
derivation  of  English  words,  and  thereby  enlarged 
her  understanding  of  her  own  language.  But  she 
left  school  with  that  acquisition  of  intellectual  taste 
and  wisdom  which  two  years  of  intercourse  with 
such  a  woman  as  Miss  Beach  could  not  fail  to  impart. 
Her  room-mate  at  this  school  was  a  sweet,  attrac- 
tive, refined  little  girl,  two  years  younger  than  her- 
self, named  Elizabeth  Beach.  When  they  went  to 
their  room  the  first  night  of  their  companionship, 
the  little  girl  looked  at  her  elder  acquaintance  with 
a  dawning  respect,  as  she  was  so  large  and  tall,  and 
to  her  eyes  almost  a  woman.     "  Which  side  of  the 

*  She  always  wrote  it  Anne  in  later  years. 


AT  THE  DORCHESTER  ACADEMY  35 

bed  shall  I  sleep,  Miss  Robbins  ? "  she  said  defer- 
entially. "Oh!  it's  perfectly  immaterial  to  me 
which  side  you  sleep,"  said  Anne  in  her  clear, 
ringing  voice,  "  for  /  always  sleep  in  the  middle." 
The  next  morning,  when  seated  around  the  break- 
fast-table, the  other  girls  eating  with  the  pewter 
spoons  which  were  thought  good  enough  for  board- 
ing-school children  of  that  day  —  and  really  were 
so  —  Anne  cheerfully  pulled  a  bright  silver  spoon 
out  of  her  pocket,  and  began  to  eat  her  breakfast. 
"As  long  as  there  are  silver  spoons  in  the  world" 
she  said  in  an  undertone  "I  shall  eat  with  one; 
and,  when  there  cease  to  be,  I  will  put  up  with 
some  inferior  metal."  When  Anne  left  the  Dor- 
chester Academy  her  little  room-mate  and  she  were 
parted,  and  they  never  met  but  once  again  in  the 
whole  course  of  their  lives.  But,  sixty  years  after 
those  school-days  ended,  an  accident,  or  rather  the 
good  hand  of  Providence,  led  me  to  occupy  the  next 
house  to  the  dear  old  lady,  Airs.  Richard  Smith, 
my  mother's  early  friend.  She  came  to  offer  kind- 
ness to  a  stranger,  because  she  was  a  stranger  ;  and 
when  our  conversation  revealed  to  her  that  I  was 
the  daughter  of  her  old-time  companion  at  the  Dor- 
chester Academy  nothing  could  exceed  her  joy. 
She  embraced  my  children  with  warmth,  told  them 
the  little  tales  I  have  repeated  above,  and  ended 
with  saying,  "Don't  think,  dear  children,  that  your 
grandmother  did  not  give  me  my  full  share  of  the 
be  I,  and  more  too.  That  was  just  her  funny  way 
of  putting  things.  She  was  really  the  most  gener- 
ous  Lfirl    in    the    whole    school."       During    the    two 


36  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

years  that  we  were  permitted  to  enjoy  the  society 
of  this  lovely  old  lady  we  experienced  untold  pleas- 
ure in  it,  and  have  never  ceased  to  mourn  for  her 
since  death  removed  her. 

On  leaving  school  Anne  Jean  did  not  return  to 
the  home  on  Milton  Hill  where  she  was  born. 
About  the  year  1805  the  family  removed  to  the 
Brush  Hill  farm,  two  miles  and  a  half  from  Milton 
Hill,  a  place  inherited  by  my  grandmother  and  her 
sister,  Aunt  Forbes,  and  very  dear  to  them  from 
long  and  varied  associations.  As  Brush  Hill  still 
remains  the  home  of  their  children  I  cannot  help 
wishing  to  preserve  some  record  of  its  history,  so 
dear  to  us  all.  The  house  at  Brush  Hill  was 
erected  in  1734  by  Uncle  Smith,  a  sugar-refiner 
in  Brattle  Square,  Boston,  who  was  twice  married, 
but  had  no  children.  His  last  wife  was  the  widow 
Campbell,  formerly  Miss  Betsy  Murray,  who  sur- 
vived him,  and  afterwards  became  Mrs.  Inman. 
She  was  the  aunt  of  Elizabeth  and  Dorothy  Murray, 
and  they  had  passed  their  youth  with  her  at  Brush 
Hill,  and  were  warmly  attached  to  the  place.  Eliz- 
abeth afterwards  married  our  grandfather  Robbins  ; 
and  Dorothy  became  the  wife  of  a  Scotch  clergy- 
man, named  Forbes,  and  they  were  the  grandparents 
of  our  cousins  Robert  Bennet   and  John  M.  Forbes. 

A  finer  instance  of  the  strength  and  durability  of 
family  attachments  and  friendships  can  hardly  be 
found  than  those  that  were  formed  among  the  young 
people  who  were  brought  together  at  Brush  Hill 
by  the  marriage  of  Uncle  Smith,  and  which  have 
been  handed  down  to  this  present  time  from  one 
generation   to    another.       Uncle    Smith's    first  wife, 


,<     (       ATT    *-..■.  J 


i  t<iaB 


:        t:'r:  i  ML     ril 


-  ■jr-^*';w"^:  ^  "!*j£? .      *  *""" 


'T  ^BS&  J 


I 


X *>«*?-  n^sv^  "^T*r  -TTw    tecs  i  »*i    -."  T  ~    ; 


BRUSH  HILL  ASSOCIA  TIONS  37 

whose  maiden  name  was  Prudence  Middleton,  had 
three  nieces  —  Mary,  Annie,  and  Prudence  Middle- 
ton —  who  for  years  were  inmates  of  Brush  Hill; 
they  were  very  fine  girls,  of  strong  and  excellent 
character ;  and  when  Uncle  Smith's  second  mar- 
riage brought  to  Brush  Hill  the  two  Misses  Murray, 
an  ardent  attachment  sprang  up  between  the  five 
young  people,  which  was  destined  to  exercise  an 
important  influence  over  their  whole  lives.  One  of 
the  Miss  Middletons  married  Mr.  Lovell,  and  be- 
came the  mother  of  Mrs.  Pickard,  who  was  the 
mother  of  Mary,  afterwards  Mrs.  Henry  Ware. 
Another  was  always  called  "Aunt  Whipple"  by  my 
mother  and  aunts ;  and  the  third,  Mrs.  Bent,  was 
the  mother  of  Miss  Ann  Bent,  a  woman  whose 
unique  character  and  large  benevolence  will  never 
be  forgotten  in  the  Boston  circles  where  her  remem- 
brance has  been  widely  cherished. 

Such  were  some  of  the  fine  characters  who  had 
passed  either  the  whole  or  a  portion  of  their  youth 
under  the  hospitable  roof  of  Uncle  Smith  at  Brush 
PI  ill  ;  and  the  traditions  of  that  time  were  still  vivid 
and  oft  repeated  when  Anne  Jean  and  her  brothers 
and  sisters  went  with  their  parents  and  Aunt 
Forbes  to  restore  the  home  of  their  mother's  youth. 
Brush  Hill  had  been  rented  for  many  years,  and 
though  it  was  a  magnificent  farm  of  one  hundred 
and  fifty  acres,  with  fine  orchard,  large  garden, 
meadows  for  grazing,  and  lawn  covered  with  ancient 
elms,  it  had  sadly  run  down  for  want  of  care,  and 
needed  all  the  industry  of  the  whole  family  to  put 
it  in  the  old  condition  of  thrift  and  comfort  it  had 
maintained   in   Uncle  Smith's  day. 


38  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

To  this  beautiful  home,  where  Nature  had  done 
her  best,  and  where  the  whole  scene  glowed  with 
associations,  came  Anne  Jean,  at  the  age  of  sixteen, 
with  an  eye  quick  to  perceive  and  a  heart  to  feel 
all  the  glories  of  the  landscape,  and  an  enthusiasm 
and  energy  and  health  rejoicing  to  bring  aid  in 
every  possible  way  to  the  hard-working  family  on 
the  Brush  Hill  farm.  She  rose  early  and  sat  up 
late,  and  no  clay  was  long  enough  for  the  varied 
occupations  that  filled  the  hours.  But  first  among 
her  self-imposed  duties  was  the  care  and  education 
of  the  little  sister  over  whom  she  had  cried  so 
bitterly  because  not  permitted  to  bring  her  up  by 
hand.  My  Aunt  Revere  tells  me  that  she  was  full 
of  theories  of  education  and  delighted  in  teaching; 
as  it  was  very  much  the  fashion  of  that  day  to 
follow  Miss  Edgevvorth's  views  on  these  subjects, 
she  adopted  them  with  much  enthusiasm,  and  was 
never  so  happy  as  when  she  had  induced  our  cousin 
Emma  Forbes  and  Mary  Pickard,  who  were  near 
the  age  of  her  little  sister,  to  come  and  stay  a  few 
weeks,  when  she  would  practise  her  theories  of 
education  on  all  three  with  great  perseverance  and 
success. 

My  Aunt  Catherine  writes  :  "  I  have  some  strong 
impressions  of  my  childhood,  but  for  the  most  part 
thev  are  vaarue.  We  came  to  live  at  Brush  Hill  in 
the  spring  of  1805;  your  mother  had  then  finished 
her  schooling,  and  returned  home  to  live. 

"Our  familv  was  a  lanre  and  confused  one,  with 
many  interests  to  be  cared  for;  the  children  all 
lived    at    home    at    that    time,    except    your    Uncle 


A  PATRIARCHAL  HOUSEHOLD  39 

Edward  who  was  away  at  school,  and  afterwards 
at  college,  and  was  only  occasionally  an  inmate. 
When  we  came  to  Brush  Hill  Aunt  Forbes  came 
to  live  with  us.  She  had  before  lived  in  Boston, 
but  had  become  too  infirm  to  live  by  herself  any 
longer.  She  was  a  settled  invalid,  crippled  for 
thirty  years  with  the  gout.  She  never  left  her 
room,  except  occasionally  during  the  warm  weather, 
but  was  always  to  be  cared  for  in  it,  food  specially 
provided  to  suit  her,  and  all  the  little  things  so 
helpless  a  person  needs  to  be  attended  to,  and  no 
special  attendant  to  do  it.  Your  grandmother  and 
your  Aunt  Howe  did  it  for  the  most  part,  but  the 
others  took  their  share  of  it  at  times.  All  of  us 
were  glad  to  sit  with  her,  and  help  to  entertain  her 
and  hear  her  Old-World  stories,  for  she  was  a  very 
bright  and  cheerful  person,  who  did  not  lose  her 
spirits  through  all  these  many  years  of  suffering. 
Your  mother  was  thought  to  resemble  her  in  tem- 
perament and  in  looks  more  than  any  of  the  family. 
Except  under  severe  attacks,  which  occurred  two  or 
three  times  a  year,  she  saw  all  the  visitors,  and  was 
interested  in  everything  that  went  on  in  the  family. 
"Our  farm  arrangements  were  a  great  care  and 
occupation.  The  place  had  been  sadly  neglected 
for  years,  and  your  grandfather  employed  many  men 
to  get  it  into  condition,  and  all  were  provided  for 
in  the  house.  It  was  not  unusual  for  us  to  have 
eight  or  ten  men  in  the  summer,  which  complicated 
the  house-keeping  very  much.  I  assure  you  the 
providing  for  numbers,  caring  for  the  house,  nursing 
the  sick,   and   receiving  friends   (which  went   on  all 


40  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

the  time),  with  a  great  many  changes,  and  coming 
and  going  both  in  parlor  and  kitchen,  made  an 
establishment  which  required  skill  and  industry  and 
activity  to  carry  on  with  any  comfort  to  the  mem- 
bers of  it.  Your  grandmother  always  superintended 
the  kitchen  department  herself,  including  the  dairy; 
but  all  the  daily  care  of  the  house,  the  sweeping  and 
dusting,  and  arrangement  of  the  table,  with  a  small 
boy  or  girl  to  wait,  came  to  the  young  ladies  of  the 
house,  with  only  occasional  help  from  the  second 
woman.  Then  the  sewing  for  so  many  persons  — 
no  seamstress  ever  called  in,  except  a  dress-maker 
for  fitting  —  was  no  light  matter,  but  a  business 
never  done,  with  the  utmost  efforts  of  the  girls 
(your  grandmother  never  sewed).  I  assure  you  the 
younger  members  of  this  family  were  not  in  need 
of  a  '  career,'  while  they  remained  in  it,  except 
your  Aunt  Eliza,  who  hated  domestic  business,  and 
stayed  away  at  Hingham  and  other  places  a  great 
deal  of  the  time.  Your  mother  also  visited  a  great 
deal,  but  when  she  was  at  home  she  took  a  full 
share  in  all  these  various  works,  and  was  very 
helpful  and  efficient.  She  taught  me  my  early 
lessons,  and  took  more  care  of  me  than  any  one 
else,  and  made  my  clothes.  Then  I  think  she 
learned  that  peculiar  style  of  dress-making  that  you 
remember,  exercising  it  upon  me  and  certain  small 
maids  that  we  had  at  different  times,  to  whom  it 
was  well  adapted.  I  tell  you  these  things,  not  that 
each  one  is  important,  but  to  show  you  that  your 
mother's  life  was  by  no  means  vacant  or  inactive,  in 
consequence    of    her    isolated    position    here.       1  ler 


HA  BIT  OF  FA  MIL  Y  RE  A  DING  4 1 

music  too  was  a  great  interest  and  occupation  to 
her  ;  she  had  begun  to  take  lessons  while  at  school 
at  Dorchester,  and  continued  to  do  so  for  some 
time  after  leaving  there,  and  made  a  regular  busi- 
ness of  practising  while  she  remained  at  home. 

"  Then  all  the  family  were  readers,  the  old  ladies 
and  the  young;  and  among  them  were  all  kinds  of 
tastes ;  and  they  did  a  great  deal  of  reading  aloud, 
while  the  audience  were  diligently  sewing.  Our 
sister  Eliza  would  have  one  kind  of  reading  going  on 
in  her  room  with  some  of  the  children,  and  the  old 
ladies  another  kind  in  theirs.  History,  philosophy, 
poetry,  novels,  and  plays,  each  had  its  turn.  I  well 
remember  hearing  the  '  Paradise  Lost '  read  when 
I  was  between  eight  and  nine  years  old ;  and  I 
received  it  as  an  authentic  record  of  the  beginning 
of  the  world,  and  recurred  to  it  as  such  in  imagina- 
tion many  years  after.  Reading  was  the  constant 
resource  and  amusement  when  the  more  exacting 
business  of  the  clay  was  over. 

"  Your  mother  was,  as  you  know,  very  handsome 
and  animated,  and  a  favorite  with  all  the  family 
friends.  She  would  often  be  invited  in  Boston  and 
other  places,  and  make  up  her  things  to  wear,  often 
out  of  remains  of  her  mother's  dress-clothes,  with 
the  least  expense  possible ;  and  she  looked  hand- 
somer and  better  dressed  than  many  who  were  elab- 
orately adorned. 

"The  winters  of  1809  and  1810  she  spent  entirely 
in  town,  with  an  old  friend  of  her  mother's,  and  went 
constantly  into  society,  and  was  much  admired  and 
attended    to.     The   next    winter    she    spent  in   New 


42  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

York,  with  the  Murray  relatives ;  she  also  visited 
her  cousin  James  G.  Forbes'  family. 

"With  regard  to  our  visitors  at  Brush  Hill  it  is 
difficult  for  me  to  tell  you  much.  Your  grandfather 
never  had  dinner  company,  or  formal  visiting  in  any 
way;  he  would  bring  home  a  stranger  from  town, 
or  some  person  with  whom  he  had  business,  to  spend 
a  night  or  stay  over  a  day,  but  seldom  invited  com- 
pany on  his  own  account.  Mr.  Fisher  Ames,  of 
whom  Channing's  biographer  says  that  'he  held 
private  circles  and  public  assemblies  spell-bound  by 
the  charm  of  his  rich  eloquence,'  was  his  most 
intimate  and  life-long  friend.  He  was  a  man  of 
great  ability,  and  rare  conversational  powers.  He 
died  in  1808.  I  do  not  remember  ever  seeing  him 
except  the  last  time  he'  came  to  the  house,  when  he 
was  far  gone  in  consumption.  With  Mrs.  Ames  we 
always  kept  up  a  most  friendly  relation  ;  and  a  rare 
person  she  was  :  a  large,  stately  woman  with  fine 
eyes  and  a  remarkably  dignified  and  gracious  pres- 
ence, most  friendly  to  all  sorts  of  people.  An 
immense  reader  and  an  admirable  talker,  it  was 
always  a  privilege  to  be  with  her.  I  do  not  know 
any  one  at  all  like  her  now.  There  was  about  her 
a  certain  largeness  of  nature  that  was  full  of  repose, 
perfect  self-possession,  with  great  consideration  for 
others,  and  desire  to  give  pleasure  and  put  one  at 
their  ease,  entirely  apart  from  conventional  polite- 
ness. 

"But  the  most  constant  visitors  at  Brush  Hill 
were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pickard,  the  parents  of  Mrs. 
Ware,  and  other  members  of  the  Lovell  familv,  who 


GIRLHOOD  FRIENDS  43 

were  often  coming  out  from  Boston  in  the  pleasant 
season,  and  whose  houses  were  always  open  to  us 
when  we  went  to  town.  The  Miss  Bents  and  Mrs. 
Barnard  were  cousins  to  Mrs.  Pickard,  and  inti- 
mately associated  with  her ;  and  there  was  a  great 
deal  of  friendly  intercourse  among  us  all.  Mrs. 
Pickard  was  more  a  woman  of  the  world  than  Mary 
Ware,  and  not  so  spiritually-minded  a  person ;  but 
she  was  a  very  admirable  woman,  very  agreeable  in 
conversation,  kindly  in  her  nature,  and  fond  of  young 
people.  She  was  warmly  attached  to  your  mother 
and  aunts,  and  often  had  them  to  stay  with  her. 
She  had  been  in  England  a  great  deal,  and  had  seen 
something  of  the  Old  World,  which  was  a  rarity  then, 
when  very  few  women  went  abroad.  She  took  great 
interest  in  your  mother  and  in  her  marriage.  She 
died  about  six  months  after  that  event,  deeply 
lamented. 

"  Your  mother  used  to  visit  both  the  Perkins 
families.  Mr.  James  Perkins,  the  grandfather  of 
Mrs.  Cleveland,  was  a  very  cultivated  and  agreeable 
man,  fond  of  the  society  of  women;  and  he  liked 
to  talk  with  her  and  make  her  talk,  which  she  was 
never  slow  to  do  in  her  early  days  as  well  as  later. 
The  Brimmer  family  were  among  your  grand- 
mother's early  friends,  and  when  Mrs.  Inches  came 
to  live  in  Milton  the  younger  members  of  the 
family  became  intimate  with  her,  which  intimacy 
lasted  as  long  as  she  lived.  She  was  a  remarkably 
disinterested  and  conscientious  person,  always 
ready  to  serve  others,  though  she  was  literally  worn 
to  death  with  an  immense  family,  and  with  trying 
to  do  more  than  any  mortal  could. 


44  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

"The  Brush  Hill  family  also  kept  up  a  great  deal 
of  friendly  intercourse  with  the  people  of  the  town. 
They  had  quite  an  intimacy  with  the  Sumner  family, 
but  none  of  them  exercised  any  special  influence 
over  your  mother's  mind,  like  the  other  friends  I 
have  mentioned. 

"  I  must  not  omit  to  mention  the  Misses  Barker, 
also  hereditary  friends.  They  always  visited  at 
Brush  Hill  every  year,  often  passing  several  weeks. 
Three  single  ladies  of  very  peculiar  and  original 
characteristics,  they  lived  in  Hingham,  were  quite 
poor,  owning  a  house  but  having  a  very  small  in- 
come; they  lived  in  the  most  frugal  but  independent 
way.  About  twice  a  year  your  grandmother  would 
go  down  to  Hingham,  with  her  chaise  laden  with  all 
kinds  of  good  things  in  the  way  of  provision,  to  give 
them  a  little  help  and  comfort.  They  were  great 
readers,  two  of  them  especially  —  readers  of  history 
and  old  English  literature;  and,  when  Miss  Debby 
was  eighty  years  old,  she  would  repeat  her  favorite 
passages  of  poetry  in  the  quaintest  way.  They 
were  remarkable  also  for  having  kept  up  the  idea  of 
loyalty  to  the  king  all  their  lives,  and  would  talk 
about  William  IV.  as  their  liege  lord  fifty  years 
after  the  Declaration  of  Independence.  When  they 
came  to  visit  us  the  talk  was  very  much  about  things 
before  the  war,  and  the  friends  who  went  back  to 
England,  with  whom  they  kept  up  correspondence. 

"During  the  period  of  your  mother's  youth  when- 
ever people  came  together  politics  was  the  all-ab- 
sorbing subject  of  conversation.  Your  grandfather 
was  a  strong  federalist,  and  in  common  with  others 


POLITICS,  RELIGION,  FINANCES  45 

of  those  views,  through  the  administration  of  Jeffer- 
son, when  the  embargo  was  made  and  other  meas- 
ures carried  which  culminated  in  the  war  of  1812, 
they  all  felt  that  the  country  was  ruined,  the  repub- 
lican experiment  had  failed  ;  and  these  subjects  for 
years  kept  up  as  much  excitement  and  as  constant 
discussion  as  slavery  and  the  prospect  of  war  did 
with  us  during  the  last  conflict.  This  made  a  lasting 
impression  on  my  mind,  because  I  had  a  vague  terror 
of  evil  to  come,  and  knew  not  what  it  might  be. 

"  I  do  not  remember  that  the  conversation  at 
home  was  often  on  abstract  subjects,  or  even  upon 
religious  topics  ;  for  the  Unitarian  controversy  had 
not  then  begun,  and  we  went  to  church  as  a  habit 
and  matter  of  course,  without  the  least  interest  in 
the  preaching.  Your  mother  even  in  her  youth 
was  fond  of  fine  preaching,  and  would  make  great 
efforts  to  go  and  hear  Dr.  Channing  or  Mr.  Buck- 
minster,  who  was  a  great  favorite  for  a  few  years. 

"  In  closing  these  brief  reminiscences,  I  ought 
to  mention  one  condition  which  exercised  a  con- 
tinued influence  upon  the  lives  of  all  the  Brush  Hill 
family,  restricting  them  in  many  ways,  and-  occa- 
sioning a  great  deal  of  worry  and  anxiety.  Your 
grandfather  and  grandmother  had  an  ample  income 
for  many  years  of  their  married  life,  and  lived  much 
as  they  pleased  ;  but  he  was  a  person  fond  of  new 
enterprises  and  large  experiments,  which  by  the 
time  they  came  to  Brush  Hill  began  to  cause  em- 
barrassments, and  later  when  the  difficulties  in 
business  came  on,  and  the  war  disturbed  everybody's 
plans,  occasioned  him  a  great  deal  of  trouble.     In  so 


46  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

large  a  family  this  was  peculiarly  trying,  and  could 
not  but  occasion  a  good  deal  of  unhappiness.  Yet 
it  never  so  depressed  the  spirits  of  the  young  people 
as  to  prevent  their  enjoying  life  a  great  deal.  But 
it  affected  their  general  condition,  and  allowed  them 
fewer  indulgences  than  the  beginning  of  their  lives 
had  promised." 


CHAPTER  III. 

And  perfect  the  clay  shall  be  when  it  is  of  all  men  understood 
that  the  beauty  of  Holiness  must  be  in  labor  as  well  as  in  rest.  Nay ! 
more,  if  it  may  be,  in  labor;  in  our  strength  rather  than  in  our  weak- 
ness ;  and  in  the  choice  of  what  we  shall  work  for  through  the  six 
days,  and  may  know  to  be  good  at  their  evening  time,  than  in  the 
choice  of  what  we  pray  for  on  the  seventh,  of  reward  or  repose.  .  .  . 
For  the  few  who  labor  as  their  Lord  would  have  them,  the  mercy 
needs  no  seeking,  and  their  wide  home  no  hallowing.  Surely,  good- 
ness and  mercy  shall  follow  them  all  the  days  of  their  life  ;  and  they 
shall  dwell  in  the  house  of  the  Lord  forever. —  Ruskin. 

A  LTHOUGH  my  dear  Aunt  Catherine  only  wrote 
■*^*-  the  letter  that  closes  the  last  chapter  as  a  sort 
of  guide  to  me  in  this  life  of  my  mother,  and  with- 
out thought  of  my  printing  it,  yet  I  have  copied  it 
entire  ;  for  what  could  my  imagination  do  towards 
piecing  out  the  records  of  a  life  that  went  before 
me,  that  could  be  half  as  valuable  as  these  simple 
outlines?  I  remember  my  mother's  frequent  and 
warm  allusions  to  her  early  life,  the  lovely  walks  up 
and  down  the  piazza  at  Brush  1 1  ill  with  her  beloved 
father,  the  shadows  of  the  old  elms  upon  the  lawn 
in  the  splendid  moonlight  evenings,  the  view  of  the 
distant  light-houses  in  Boston  Harbor,  which  they 
would  pause  in  their  loving  talks  to  watch.  These 
evening  strolls  on  the  wide  piazza  were  brief  but 
happy  rests  after  days  of  activity  and  healthful  toil 
and  hours  of  separation,  and  they  were  enjoyed  as 


48  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

only  hours  of  rest  from  toil  can  be.  My  Aunt  Mary, 
Anne  Jean's  younger  sister,  tells  me  that  there  was 
no  day  in  summer  when  it  was  not  considered  the 
established  duty  for  Sally,  Anne,  and  herself,  as 
soon  as  their  dinner  was  over,  to  prepare  two  large 
trays  containing  plates  of  bread  and  butter,  cut  very 
thin  and  doubled  ;  silver  baskets  of  cake  which  they 
had  made  in  the  morning,  and  dishes  of  strawberries, 
which  they  had  gathered  and  hulled  themselves. 
These  trays,  covered  with  white  napkins,  were 
placed  in  a  dark,  cold  closet,  ready  for  their  addi- 
tion of  the  tea-pot  and  pitchers  of  rich  cream,  to  be 
brought  out  at  evening  when  the  friends  from  Boston 
would  be  sure  to  come  out,  always  a  number  of  un- 
invited but  most  welcome  guests.  Cousin  Mary 
Ware  once  said  to  me  :  "  Oh,  if  I  could  give  you  a 
picture  of  the  Brush  Hill  girls  —  how  they  worked, 
how  they  read,  what  a  variety  of  things  they  accom- 
plished!  There  was  your  Aunt  Howe  —  Sally  as 
they  called  her  then ;  why  the  girls  of  the  present 
day  would  think  themselves  ruined  if  a  tenth  part 
of  what  she  did  was  expected  of  them  !  All  summer 
she  rose  at  four  o'clock,  that  she  might  weed  the 
strawberry  beds,  or  make  her  cake,  or  gather  the 
fruit,  in  the  cool  of  the  morning.  But  I  have  seen 
her  many  a  time,  when  things  crowded,  obliged  to 
gather  the  fruit  under  a  broiling  sun.  But  never 
an  impatient  word  fell  from  her  lips.  She  was  one 
of  the  most  self-sacrificing,  hard-working,  devoted 
creatures  the  sun  ever  shone  on." 

To  this  beloved  sister  Sally,  nearest  to  her  in  age, 
and  enough  older  for  Anne  Jean  to  look  up  to  with 


SA  LL  Y  ROB  BINS  \S"  CHA  RA  CTER  49 

a  special  reverence  as  well  as  affection,  she  owed 
through  life  a  debt  of  love  and  gratitude  that  cannot 
well  be  computed.  It  is  hard  to  speak  of  her  as  she 
deserves,  or  to  find  words  that  can  describe  her 
beautiful  character.  She  was  a  person  of  very  un- 
common powers  of  mind  ;  yet,  as  the  necessities  of 
her  life  always  obliged  her  to  be  constantly  active, 
reading  and  intellectual  reflection  were  her  pastime, 
and  rarely  an  occupation.  She  had  the  same  ardent 
temperament  as  Anne  Jean,  the  same  deep  and 
glowing  affections,  the  same  love  of  Nature,  and  the 
same  appreciation  for  fine  character.  But  here  the 
resemblance  ceased.  For  Sally  was  from  her  youth 
to  old  age  a  wonderfully  chastened  spirit,  her  ardor 
tempered  by  deep  religious  trust,  her  vivid  imagina- 
tion held  in  check  by  an  excellent  and  considerate 
judgment.  So  rare  a  combination  of  noble  qualities 
it  is  not  often  our  fortune  to  meet,  and  Anne  Jean 
justly  looked  upon  her  as  a  superior  being;  and 
while  she  valued  every  fine  trait  her  sister  pos- 
sessed, she  said  to  herself,  "  It  is  high,  I  cannot 
attain  unto  it."  I  can  scarcely  think  of  her,  even 
at  tins  distance  of  time,  without  a  crowd  of  images 
forcing  themselves  upon  my  mind,  full  of  tenderness 
and  unspeakable  pathos.  In  youth,  the  mainstay 
and  dependence  of  her  excellent  father,  the  devoted 
care-taker  of  her  beloved  invalid  aunt,  the  confiden- 
tial friend  of  every  brother  and  sister,  ready  to 
devote  herself  body  and  soul  to  each  member  of  her 
family  —  she  became  later  in  life  the  chosen  com- 
panion and  wile  of  one  ol  the  noblest  of  men,  my 
father's  cousin,  judge  Howe.      Not  many  years  per- 


50  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

mitted  to  enjoy  this  rare  companionship,  she  took 
up  her  solitary  burden  without  a  murmur,  devoting 
herself  for  the  remainder  of  her  days  to  the  care 
and  education  of  her  large  family  of  children,  and 
earning  for  them  by  personal  labor  a  large  portion 
of  their  means  of  support.  And  this  hard-working 
woman  had  a  thirst  for  knowledge,  a  love  of  intel- 
lectual pursuits,  rarely  to  be  met  with.  How  often, 
when  a  day  of  toil  was  ended,  has  she  sat  up  late 
at  night  to  write  a  lovely  story  for  some  Fair  for 
a  charitable  object  for  which  she  had  no  money  to 
give,  or  a  beautiful  poem  full  of  freshness  and 
originality,  or  a  volume  of  charades  !  With  as  boun- 
tiful and  affluent  a  nature  as  Anne  Jean's,  and  as 
fine  health,  Sally  possessed  a  more  rarely-cultivated 
intellect  and  a  more  delicate  imagination.  She  was 
less  brilliant  in  conversation  than  Anne  Jean,  partly 
from  a  sweet  abstraction  and  profound  humility  very 
genuine  with  her.  But  her  judgment  on  all  matters 
of  importance  was  more  reliable  than  her  younger 
sister's. 

I  never  heard  any  one  read  heroic,  or  fine,  or 
pathetic  passages  of  poetry  or  prose  in  so  moving  a 
manner  as  my  dear  Aunt  did.  She  lost  herself  com- 
pletely at  such  times,  ceased  to  be  for  the  time  herself 
and  was  her  character.  I  walked  into  her  dining- 
room  one  day  at  Cambridge,  with  a  paper  in  my  hand 
containing  Mrs.  Browning's  poem,  then  new,  of  "My 
Kate."  She  had  just  sent  off  her  army  of  young 
men  from  the  dinner  that  had  occupied  her  for  hours 
to  superintend,  but  laid  down  the  dish  she  was  re- 
moving, and  read  the  poem.     I  shall  never  forget  it, 


EXCURSIONS  IN  PHILOSOPHY  5 1 

and  can  never  read  it  again  without  recalling  her 
tones.  When  she  came  to  the  line,  "  She  has  made 
the  grass  green,  even  here,  with  her  grave,"  I  could 
not  speak,  but  had  to  leave  the  room. 

I  cannot  help  pausing  thus  over  the  recollection  of 
my  Aunt  Howe,  for  her  companionship  and  sisterly 
affection  were  so  much  to  my  mother  through  a  long 
life  that  they  form  a  striking  part  of  her  history. 
Rarely  is  it  permitted  to  one  to  enter  into  life  in 
such  precious  companionship. 

My  Aunt  Mary  tells  me  that  when  Anne  Jean 
left  the  Ladies'  Academy  at  Dorchester,  though  only 
sixteen,  she  was  and  had  been  for  two  years  a  very 
large  and  fine  girl,  with  the  form  and  figure  of  a 
woman  ;  and  also,  that  she  was  very  handsome. 
Besides  the  time  which  she  now  gave  to  the  educa' 
tion  of  her  little  sister,  her  elder  sisters  Eliza  and 
Sally  thought  it  best  for  her  own  mind  that  she 
should  give  daily  some  hours  to  the  study  of  met- 
aphysics, which  were  considered  more  important  then 
than  it  now  is.  Accordingly,  the  three  read  together 
with  great  avidity  Dugald  Stewart's  "Philosophy," 
"Alison  on  Taste,"  Smith's  "Theory  of  the  Moral 
Sentiment,"  and  other  works  of  the  same  character. 
They  became  intensely  interested  both  in  meta- 
phys:cs  and  ethics,  and  before  Anne  Jean  was 
twenty  years  old  she  had  read  all  the  authors  on 
these  subjects  that  were  then  best  known.  I  have 
beside  me  her  commonplace  book  of  this  period,  a 
singular  medley  of  poetry  and  prose,  with  recipes  of 
various  dishes  pinned  to  the  fly-leaves,  and  rare 
quotations  from  various  authors.     There  are  news- 


52  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

paper  slips  pinned  to  blank  leaves,  Bryant's  earlier 
hymns  and  poems,  and  many  fine  copies  of  passages 
from  her  favorite  authors  ;  such  as  Hannah  Morc's 
"Coelebs,"  Dr.  Johnson's  "  Rasselas,"  "Ossian's 
Poems,"  &c.  Several  pages  are  devoted  to  Blair, 
wherein  sincerity  and  truth  are  recommended  ;  and 
a  wonderfully  beautiful  "  Evening  Prayer "  whose 
author  is  not  named  fills  several  pages.  There  is  a 
letter  from  Madame  de  Roubigne  to  her  daughter 
which  reads  like  a  translation,  and  is  full  of  pious 
advice.  Then  follow  what  is  called  "A  Matrimo- 
nial Chart,"  and  "An  Enigma,"  by  Lord  Byron; 
some  lines  written  by  Miss  Cranston,  wife  of  Pro- 
fessor Dugald  Stewart,  the  first  four  lines  of  the  last 
stanza  being  added  by  Burns,  as  he  himself  says 
in  one  of  his  letters.  There  is  also,  "The  Burial 
Hymn  of  Sir  John  Moore;"  "The  Flower  Angels," 
translated  by  Mr.  George  Bancroft ;  a  poem  by  Pro- 
fessor Frisbie,  and  a  few  valuable  extracts.  Evi- 
dently she  thought  that  a  sonnet  of  her  beloved 
sister  Sally's,  on  the  death  of  the  old  friend  whom 
they  both  called  "Aunt  Whipple,"  ought  to  be  saved 
from  destruction  by  insertion  here  at  a  later  day, 
and  for  the  same  reason  I  copy  it:  — 

Lines  in  Memory  of  Mrs.   Whipple. 

"When  the  free  spirit  wings  its  heavenward  flight, 
And  soars  to  realms  of  everlasting  light, 
All  human  praises  may  superfluous  seem; 
But  memory  still  must  dwell  upon  the  theme 
Of  one  whose  patient  virtue,  kind  and  wise, 
Humble  and  cheerful,  was  above  disguise. 


WINTER  CO  A  TS  AND  PARTY  DRESSES      53 

She  drank  affliction's  bitter  cup,  and  owned 

The  hand  that  gave  it,  and  her  griefs  were  crowned 

With  hopes  that  reached  beyond  the  grave  ; 

She  knew  her  Lord,  and  felt  His  power  to  save. 

Nor  yet  disowned  the  social  ties  that  bind 

(While  being  lasts)  each  creature  to  its  kind, 

Felt  Friendship's  power  to  soothe  the  wounded  heart, 

And  knew  to  take  the  sympathizing  part ; 

Forgave  all  injury,  and  is  forgiven 

If  inward  peace  marks  the  sure  path  to  heaven." 


Anne  Jean  also  kept  a  journal,  as  well  as  a  com- 
monplace book;  but,  alas!  that  has  perished,  as  well 
as  many  another  record  of  the  Brush  Hill  life,  that 
now  can  never  be  recalled.  The  time  of  her  youth 
with  its  varied  and  incessant  occupations  passed 
swiftly  by  ;  but  each  and  all  were  fitting  her  for  the 
life  of  responsibility  that  was  to  come,  and  leaving 
behind  recollections  of  useful  and  happy  years. 
The  winters  at  Brush  Hill  were  long  and  cold ;  the 
appliances  for  heat  not  what  they  are  now,  the  large 
open  chimneys  and  wood  fires  being  cheerful  to  the 
eye,  but  with  their  ample  draughts  not  warming  to 
the  body.  "We  wore  our  great  coats  in  the  house 
half  the  time,  Sally  and  I,"  said  my  mother  once; 
"and  even  then  could  not  have  been  warm  without 
the  active  employments  that  kept  us  constantly 
bus_\-."  Often  came  from  their  city  friends  urgent 
invitations  to  pass  a  tew  weeks.  Anne  Jean  went 
oftencst,  because  Sally  could  less  easily  be  spared 
from  household  cares  ;  but  now  and  then  they  went 
together.  In  the  long  summer  days,  with  all  their 
multifarious    occupations,    they    found    time    to    em- 


54  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

broider  the  cambric  or  muslin  dress,  which  was  to 
be  their  party  dress  the  next  winter  —  and  the  only 
one.  They  chose  their  patterns  with  care,  and  the 
dress  made  up  in  the  latest  style  of  that  day  seemed 
to  them  very  elegant.  An  embroidered  cambric 
dress  of  exquisite  fineness,  and  an  India  muslin  for 
a  change,  worn  with  various-colored  ribbons,  were 
Anne  Jean's  party  dresses  through  several  succes- 
sive seasons,  while  going  into  Boston  society.  And 
few  of  her  companions  of  that  day  were  more  hand- 
somely dressed.  Whenever  she  and  Sally  were  in 
town  over  Sunday  it  was  a  rare  pleasure  to  them  to 
go  and  listen  to  Mr.  Channing  and  Mr.  Buckminster; 
and  at  this  time,  although  the  Unitarian  contro- 
versy had  not  then  begun,  was  laid  the  foundation 
of  that  large,  broad,  and  hearty  adoption  of  liberal 
views  that  characterized  both  of  their  lives.  Sunday 
had  always  been  a  dull  day  to  them  at  home,  listen- 
ing from  habit  to  general  platitudes  on  the  "exceed- 
ing sinfulness  of  sin."  And  to  have  the  life  of 
Christ  preached  to  them  as  something  to  be  taken 
home  to  their  own  hearts,  and  lived  in  every  fibre  of 
their  being,  filled  these  young  minds  with  an  undy- 
ing enthusiasm,  and  forced  them  to  surrender  every 
unworthy  desire,  and  devote  their  lives  to  the 
highest  aims.  A  volume  of  Buckminster's  sermons, 
containing  his  portrait  and  a  short  memoir,  was  one 
of  Anne  Jean's  most  treasured  books  through  life. 
She  would  read  us  certain  sermons  with  kindling 
eyes  and  a  voice  of  emotion,  saying,  "Oh,  if  you 
could  have  heard  him  deliver  that  discourse;  it 
loses   so  much  in  being  read  by  another!"     Buck- 


MR.  BUCKMINSTER'S  SERMONS  55 

minster's  biographer  says  of  him  :  "  I  cannot  at- 
tempt to  describe  the  delight  and  wonder  with  which 
his  first  sermons  were  listened  to  by  all  classes  of 
hearers.  The  most  refined  and  the  least  cultivated 
equally  hung  upon  his  lips.  The  attention  of  the 
thoughtless  was  fixed ;  the  gayety  of  youth  was 
composed  to  seriousness  ;  the  mature,  the  aged,  the 
most  vigorous  and  enlarged  minds  were  at  once 
charmed,    instructed,    and    improved." 


CHAPTER  IV. 


Would  Wisdom  for  herself  be  wooed, 
And  wake  the  foolish  from  his  dream, 

She  must  be  glad  as  well  as  good, 
And  must  not  only  be,  but  seem. 

Coventry  Patmore. 


THERE  are  very  few  of  Anne  Jean's  letters 
during  the  period  of  her  youth  left,  but  I  shall 
insert  those  few  in  this  memoir,  not  because  they 
are  of  special  interest,  but  because  they  were  hers. 
And  even  though  written,  as  most  of  her  letters 
were  through  life,  in  the  careless  haste  of  a  person 
whose  thronging  occupations  made  time  of  value, 
they  are  still  genuine,  simple  effusions  that  will 
show  her  grandchildren  how  little  she  was  ever  oc- 
cupied with  herself,  and  how  deep  was  her  interest 
in  others.  In  the  piles  of  her  letters  I  have  read 
over,  I  am  struck  with  the  fact  that  no  trace  of  ill- 
will  or  discontent  ever  appears  in  them.  It  seems 
to  have  required  more  words  for  people  to  express 
their  ideas  in  the  style  of  that  day  than  now,  and 
one  sometimes  tires  of  what  seems  so  diffuse.  And 
yet  there  is  something  of  the  stateliness  and  dignity 
of  a  former  time  left  in  my  mother's  and  aunt's 
letters,  which  is  very  interesting.  The  first  note 
was  written  to  her  Aunt  Forbes,  when  stopping  in 


A  BOSTON  VISIT  IN  1805  57 

Boston  on  her  way  to  Hingham  to  visit  the  Misses 
Barker,  not  long  after  leaving  school,  about  1804  or 
1805,  when  she  was  sixteen  years  old. 

Pearl  Street,  Boston. 

According  to  your  request,  my  dear  aunt,  I  will 
relate  what  has  occurred  to  me  in  this  great  town. 
I  came  to  Mr.  Lovell's  to  breakfast ;  sat  till  eleven 
with  Mrs.  Pickard  ;  then  waited  on  Mrs.  Perkins : 
she  had  been  down  stairs,  and  was  then  lying  down. 
I  then  passed  on  to  Mrs.  Powell's,  and  had  a  chat 
with  her,  and  engaged  to  breakfast  with  —  who  do 
you  think  ?  It  is  impossible  you  should  make  any 
conjecture,  and  I  will  relieve  your  mind, — Judge 
Powell!  He  arrived  on  Wednesday,  passed  the 
evening  at  Mr.  Lovell's,  and  Mrs.  Pickard  engaged 
him  to  meet  mamma  on  Friday.  I  am  half  in  love: 
he  is  a  charming  man  ;  he  came  at  twelve  and  sat 
till  one  o'clock  ;  but  I  was  gadding  after  a  shawl, 
and  a  very  smart  one,  I  have  purchased.  In  the 
afternoon  Mrs.  Pickard,  Mary,  and  myself  walked 
to  sec  Mrs.  Dix.  I  think  her  much  altered  since  I 
last  saw  her  ;  she  is  getting  a  nurse  for  her  child. 
Returned  to  tea,  and  Mrs.  Whipple  passed  the 
evening  with  us.  This  morning,  Saturdav,  kept  my 
appointment,  and  have  only  to  regret  its  short  dura- 
tion ;  for  I  found  by  Mr.  Gay  the  packet  was  going 
early ;  made  a  hasty  breakfast,  and  returned  to 
Pearl  Street,  and  sat  down  to  perform  my  promise 
to  you.  I  had  scarcely  finished  three  lines  when 
the  coach  came,   and    I    was   hurried  off.      My  time 


58  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

was  so  short  I  could  not  call  at  your  friend  Paine's, 
but  will  when  I  return.  I  have  engaged  a  proxy, 
and  hope  she  will  be  intelligible  to  you.  My  haste 
I  have  transmitted  to  her,  as  there  is  danger  of 
missing  Mercury,  alias  Nat  Ford.  I  have  forgot 
the  most  important  news:*I  have  had  a  letter  from 

Eliza;  they  were  still  at  Mrs.  M y's.     E.'s  heart 

is  at  home,  and  I  expect  her  person  will  be  there 
before  long.  Mr.  Bent  of  S.  is  dead ;  and  there 
is  a  letter  from  C.  L.,  who  was  well  in  August. 
Respects  and  love  to  mamma.  Kiss  my  dear  Kate, 
and  accept  the  love  and  good  wishes  of 

Your  affectionate  niece, 

Anne  Jean  Robbins. 

By  her  proxy,  Mary  Pickard, 
who  is,  with  much  respect,  the  lady's  most  obedient  servant. 

Anne,  in  after  life,  often  spoke  of  her  visits  to 
Hingham,  as  among  the  delightful  episodes  of  her 
youth.  She  said  that  Hingham  resembled  "  Cran- 
ford "  more  than  any  place  she  ever  saw,  and  that 
there  was  quite  as  much  that  was  quaint  and  origi- 
nal and  intellectually  bright  in  the  society  there, 
were  there  only  a  historian  like  Mrs.  Gaskell  to  take 
it  off.  And  I  have  no  doubt  when  she  returned  to 
Brush  Hill  she  did  take  it  off,  to  the  untold  amuse- 
ment of  her  Aunt  Forbes  and  her  sisters.  I  have 
often  heard  her  say  of  certain  habits  of  people  who 
visited  Northampton,  or  of  certain  conversation, 
"Oh,  that's  so  llinghamy!"      Or,  "It  is  not  possible 


EMBROIDERED  MOURNING  PIECES  59 

for  you  to  understand  that,  because  you  never  stayed 
in  Hingham."  In  one  of  her  visits  there  she  met  a 
brother  of  Mr.  Andrews  Norton  ;  and  I  remember 
her  telling  me  how  he  came  in  one  day,  and  found 
the  young  ladies  in  a  house  he  visited  very  busy 
embroidering  mourning  pieces, —  a  fashion  of  that 
time,  in  which  very  tall  women  with  short  waists 
and  long  black  dresses  were  always  standing  weep- 
ing by  a  monument.  The  young  girls  asked  Mr. 
Norton  to  compose  a  verse  for  them  to  have  in- 
scribed on  their  mourning-piece.  He  hastily  seized 
a  piece  of  paper,  and  wrote  these  lines  :  — 

"  In  useless  labors  all  their  hours  are  spent, 
They  murder  Time,  then  work  his  monument." 

In  these  visits  to  Hingham,  Anne  Jean  often  also 
met  Henry  and  William  Ware, —  boys  some  years 
younger  than  herself.  "  I  was  often  permitted  by 
Mrs.  L.,"  she  said,  "to  wash  their  faces,  or  tie  up 
their  shoes,  or  help  them  off  to  school.  And  they 
were  such  little  gentlemen,  so  good  and  so  grateful 
for  any  small  attention,  I  thought  it  a  great  privi- 
lege." 

The  letter  that  follows  was  written  from  Brush 
Hill,  at  a  later  date,  to  her  sister  Eliza,  who  was 
then  staying  at  Hingham  :  — - 

Urush  Hill,  Wednesday,  March  15,  1S0S. 

My  dear  Eliza, —  Experience  has  taught  you 
sufficiently  the  state  of  Brush  Hill  for  me  to  give 
you  any  thing  new  upon  the  occurrences  which  it  is 


6o  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

subject  to  ;  they  still  remain  monotonous  and  unin- 
teresting ;  we  are  all  well  and  negatively  happy. 
Since  my  return  from  Boston,  three  weeks  since, 
I  have  been  out  of  the  house  to  make  a  visit  but 
once.  Our  new  neighbors,  Mr.  W.'s  family,  were 
then  my  object ;  I  was  charmed  by  the  beauty  and 
unaffected  diffidence  of  the  girls,  to  which  was 
added  the  most  active  industry.  I  was  sorry  to 
hear  their  mother  say  (who  interested  me  more 
from  the  warmth  with  which  she  spoke  of  her  chil- 
dren than  any  other  circumstance)  she  had  moved 
to  Milton  entirely  for  their  advantage,  hoping  to 
polish  their  manners  by  refined  society,  and  culti- 
vate their  tastes  by  a  familiar  intercourse  with  it. 
I  said  nothing  to  discourage  her,  but  think  time  will 
prove  to  her  how  mistaken  the  calculation.  Mr.  S.'s 
family  are  so  engrossed  by  their  genteel  acquaint- 
ances, and  the  very  flattering  reception  they  met 
with  among  their  Boston  friends,  that  they  have 
had  very  little  to  do  with  us  who  are  quite  in  a  dif- 
ferent style.  We  tried  to  give  a  party  yesterday, 
but  could  get  nobody  to  come  but  Mrs.  S.  and 
Mrs.  W.  The  only  new  thing  that  has  or  is  going 
to  take  place  in  this  town  is  C.  H.'s  marriage,  which 
has  not  interested  me  very  much.  It  is  a  very  long 
time  since  we  have  heard  from  Mrs.  Willard  ;  and  I 
wish,  when  you  write  again,  you  would  say  whether 
Mrs.  dishing  went,  and  what  you  have  heard 
respecting  Mrs.  Barker,  for  I  apprehended  great 
depression  of  spirits  must  have  been  caused  by  the 
news  of  her  mother's  death,  which  must  have  been 
very   unexpected    to    her.     If   you  could    be    made 


HOME  LIFE  ON  LEA  VI NG  SCHOOL  61 

comfortable  here,  I  should  very  earnestly  desire 
your  return  ;  but  am  quite  reconciled  to  the  absence 
of  my  sisters  (much  as  I  love  them),  upon  the 
grounds  that  their  happiness  is  promoted  by  it.  I 
am  going  into  Boston  in  about  ten  days,  to  a  ball 
at  Mrs.  Arnold  Wells's,  till  which  time  I  shall  be 
assiduous  as  I  have  been  for  the  last  month  in  the 
care  of  the  little  girls,  who  I  have  been  (I  think) 
successful  in  improving  very  much ;  and  I  should 
be  very  well  content  to  make  that  my  future  employ- 
ment could  I  have  insured  to  me  such  pupils  as  Emma 
and  Kate.  Mary  does  not  begin  to  think  of  leaving 
home  yet,  but  I  suppose  the  first  visit  she  makes 
will  be  at  Hingham.  I  heard  Mrs.  Barnard  say  she 
expected  you  would  make  her  a  visit  when  you 
returned  from  Hingham,  but  I  hope  you  will  come 
home  first.  Ask  the  Miss  Barkers  if  none  of  them 
think  of  making  us  a  visit  ?  Mamma  says  so  long 
a  time  never  elapsed  since  she  was  married  without 
her  seeing  Miss  Sally.  I  wish,  too,  that  you  could 
secure  the  promise  of  a  visit  from  Mary  Thaxter  and 
Peggy  Cushing,  to  whom  I  beg  you  will  remember 
me  affectionately.  Nothing  tends  to  warm  my  heart 
more  than  the  idea  of  the  remembrance  and  affection 
of  those  who  arc  away  from  me  ;  and  I  beg  you  will 
continue  to  give  me  proofs  of  yours ;  and  believe  me, 
affectionately  yours,  Anne  Jean. 

During  the  winters  of  1 808-9,  Anne's  elder  sis- 
ters, Eliza  and  Sally,  had  visited  their  relatives  in 
New  York,  and  enjoyed  a  great  deal  in  the  society 
of  many  superior  people.     While  they  were  visiting 


62  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

at  Mrs.  Kane's,  they  went  out  a  great  deal,  and  con- 
stantly met  Washington  Irving,  Mr.  Paulding,  and 
Jeffrey,  who  was  still  there,  with  many  other  of  the 
literary  men  of  that  day.  It  was  the  period  of  the 
"Salmagundi,"  in  which  Sally  took  a  lively  interest; 
and  when  she  returned  to  her  isolated,  hard-working 
life  at  Brush  Hill,  she  set  about  privately  editing 
a  little  paper  for  herself  and  her  friends,  which  she 
called  "The  New  Salmagundi,"  to  which  she  and  her 
friend,  Eliza  Cabot,  were  the  principal  contributors. 
It  afforded  them  much  pleasure,  and,  no  doubt,  gave 
them  great  facility  in  writing  criticisms,  essays,  and 
poems.  But  in  one  of  Sally's  letters  to  Miss  Cabot, 
she  states  that  her  sister  Eliza  has  cast  great  indig- 
nity on  "The  New  Salmagundi,"  and  has  even  gone 
so  far  as  to  call  her,  the  worthy  editor,  "  Sally  Mc- 
Gundy."  Still  they  seem  to  have  continued  the 
little  paper  for  some  years. 

She  was  visiting  her  cousin,  Mrs.  Murray,  and 
went  much  into  the  fashionable  society  of  that  time. 
Her  letters  are  a  mere  record  of  the  pleasure  she 
received  from  the  kindness  of  friends  ;  of  the  per- 
sons she  met  at  gay  parties ;  of  her  going  to  the 
theatre  with  her  cousins  and  seeing  the  famous 
Cooke  perform,  "  To  the  admiration  of  every  one 
who  saw  him  except  myself,"  she  adds,  "  who  had 
seen  Cooper  in  the  same  character,  and  dared  to 
think  him  preferable." 

These  letters  are  interesting  to  a  family  circle,  if 
only  for  their  affectionate  mention  of  names  that 
have  passed  away,  and  because  of  the  occasional 
quaintness  and  general  stateliness  of  style  ;  but  they 


"SALMAGUNDI"  AND  NEW  YORK  63 

have  no  intellectual  value,  and  the  limits  of  this 
volume  will  only  permit  a  few  references  to  them 
and  extracts  from  them  ;  with  now  and  then  a  char- 
acteristic letter.  The  variety  of  requests  in  one 
letter  and  the  mixture  of  reading  show  the  gay  girl's 
mind,  without  pretence  and  without  discipline.  She 
writes  :  "  I  wish  you  would  send  to  the  G.'s  those 
old-fashioned  gold  earrings  with  the  diamond  in 
them  (for  those  I  have  are  not  considered  smart 
enough  by  J.  G.  F.  and  his  wife) ;  and  they  will 
forward  them  to  me  by  some  private  opportunity. 
I  should  like  also  to  have  the  'Deerfield  Collection" 
sent  at  the  same  time,  which,  when  I  go  to  J.  B.'s, 
will  be  a  very  agreeable  companion  to  me.  You 
must  not  expect  many  mental  acquisitions,  for  this 
is  not  a  family  to  promote  it  ;  but  I  have  read  'The 
Man  of  the  World,'  Young's  '  Revenge,'  Lowthe's 
'Choice  of  Hercules,'  Shenstone's  'School-Mistress,' 
and  Mrs.  Barbauld's  poems,  all  of  which  I  am  very 
much  delighted  with.  Now,  for  all  this  nonsense, 
I  expect  a  rational,  serious  letter,  such  as  perhaps 
I  shall  write  after  hearing  Dr.  Romeyn  a  few  times 
more."  On  a  following  page  she  adds :  "  I  have 
heard  Dr.  Romeyn  preach  ever  since  I  came,  who 
is  not  to  be  compared  with  President  Kirkland, 
Mr.  Channing,  or  Mr.  Buckminster."  To  another 
sister:  "  Your  observation  respecting  the  situations 
which  preclude  correct  views  of  the  prevailing 
characteristics  of  such  a  place  as  this  is,  applies 
perfectly  well  to  mine  ;  for,  as  yet,  I  have  not  had 
an  opportunity  of  judging  of  anything  that  did 
not    relate    to    the    fashionable    world,    which,    you 


64  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

know,  is  contained  in  a  very  contracted  sphere.  I 
went  out  to  large  parties,  though  not  with  my  own 
consent,  I  assure  you,  every  afternoon  last  week. 
There  is  but  one  respect  in  which  I  prefer  the  New 
York  society  to  Boston,  which  is  the  estimation  in 
which  they  hold  a  stranger's  rights, —  the  manners 
of  which  universally  proclaim  that  '  stranger  is  a 
sacred  name.'  I  have  never  met  any  lady  or  gen- 
tleman who  have  not  treated  me  as  their  friend. 
Perhaps  this  is  a  prevailing  hypocrisy,  but  it  is  flat- 
tering, and  makes  us  feel  satisfied  with  ourselves." 

Afterwards  having  gone  with  Mrs.  Murray  to  her 
father's  home  at  Greenfield  Hill,  she  writes  :  "I  have 
been  extremely  happy  ever  since  Monday  at  Green 
Vale ;  both  A.  J.  and  E.  must  have  improved  aston- 
ishingly since  you  saw  them.  A.,  without  any  re- 
markable natural  endowments,  has  the  most  judg- 
ment, and  the  most  firmly  fixed  good  principles  of 
any  young  person  I  ever  met  with.  She  is  a  most 
indefatigable  and  patient  instructress  to  three  chil- 
dren, the  two  eldest  of  whom  are  Emma  and  Cath- 
erine's age,  who  stammer  out  words  of  two  syllables 
all  the  forenoon  for  my  amusement.  E.  is  the  in- 
dustrious manager  and  housewife  of  the  family. 
They  both  daily  regret  that  they  cannot  become 
Calvinists,  which  is  all  that  is  wanting  to  make  them 
perfect  in  Dr.  Romeyn's  eyes.  Owing  to  my  wicked 
influence  they  concluded  to  go  to  a  party  this  even- 
ing, instead  of  going  to  Dr.  Romeyn's  lecture  ;  and 
have  promised  to  go  to  the  next  assembly  with  me, 
to  the  astonishment  of  all  their  friends." 


CHAPTER   V. 


Let  other  bards  of  angels  sing 

Bright  suns  without  a  spot ; 
But  thou  art  no  such  perfect  thing; 

Rejoice  that  thou  art  not ! 

Such  if  thou  wert  in  all  men's  view, 

A  universal  show, 
What  would  my  fancy  have  to  do, 

My  feelings  to  bestow  ? 

Wordsworth. 


IT  was  in  the  spring  of  i8n  that  Anne  Jean,  after 
passing  some  months  under  the  hospitable  roof 
of  her  cousins  in  New  York,  accompanied  them  to  the 
early  home  of  Mrs.  Murray,  at  Greenfield  Hill,  Con- 
necticut. From  her  own  letters  it  is  easy  to  see 
that  her  visits  in  New  York  had  been  crowded  with 
gayety,  and  filled  with  kind  attentions  of  numerous 
friends.  That  she  owed  these  attentions  to  her  own 
personal  beauty  or  talents  in  conversation,  or  other 
attractions,  never  seems  to  have  crossed  her  mind. 
She  was  at  all  times  simple  and  unconscious,  which 
constituted  one  of  her  greatest  charms.  'My  aunts 
have  told  me  what  I  could  never  have  learned  from 
herself:  that  she  had  many  admirers,  both  in  Boston 
and  New  York  society,  and  that  she  was  solicited  to 


66  RECOLLECTIONS  Ob   SfY  MOTHER 

remain  for  life  in  either  city.  But  .;t  does  not  appear 
that  her  heart  responded  to  any  of  these  appeals. 

It  was  at  Greenfield  Hill  that  she  met  her  fate. 
Among  the  guests  at  Mr.  Bronson's  came  Judge 
Lyman,  of  Northampton,  with  his  eldest  daughter,  a 
beautiful  girl  of  eighteen,  to  pass  a  week.  He  went 
to  see  his  friend  on  banking  business,  little  expecting 
to  find  there  his  future  partner  for  life.  He  was 
soon  attracted  by  her  beauty  and  her  superior  con- 
versation ;  and  she,  on  her  part,  was  inspired  with  a 
most  ardent  love  and  admiration  for  the  man  who 
was  old  enough  to  be  her  father. 

I  dare  not  trust  myself  to  speak  of  him  even  now, 
but  must  use  *"he  words  of  another, — -our  beloved 
pastor,  Mr.  Rufus  Ellis, —  written  long  after  his 
deatn,  to  show  that  the  young  girl  loved  one  who 
might  well  have  been  the  ideal  of  the  most  enthusi- 
astic youthful  fancy :  "  To  many,  many  hearts  the 
words  'Judge  Lyman'  are  charmed  words.  They 
call  up  the  image  of  one,  the  manly  beauty  of  whose 
person  was  but  the  fit  expression  of  a  most  noble 
soul ;  they  recall  a  man  singularly  gifted  and  singu- 
larly faithful, — -a  thinker,  clear-sighted,  yet  rever- 
ent,—  a  lover  of  religious  liberty,  yet  only  for  the 
pure  Gospel's  sake  ;  a  devoted  friend,  a  self-sacrific- 
ing philanthropist,  an  ardent  patriot,  a  man  diligent 
in  business,  yet  ready  to  meet  the  largest  demands 
of  every  hospitable  office  ;  a  cheerful  giver,  one  who 
made  virtue  venerable  and  lovely  by  the  uniform 
dignity,  grace,  and  courtesy  of  his  manners,  and  by 
the  sweetness  of  his  speech  ;  a  man  whose  moral 
and  social  qualities   so   occupied  attention,  that  we 


ENGAGEMENT  TO  JUDGE  LYMAN  67 

could  hardly  do  justice  to  a  very  wise,  discriminating, 
and  cultivated  intellect." 

When  the  news  of  Anne's  engagement  to  Judge 
Lyman,  of  Northampton,  reached  Brush  Hill  a  few 
weeks  later,  the  sisters  were  thrown  into  a  state  of 
much  excitement  and  commotion.  But  their  feelings 
are  well  described  in  a  letter  written  by  Sally  to 
Eliza,  who  was  then  absent  at  Hingham  :  — 

Sally  Robbins  to  Eliza  Robbins,  Brush  Hill,  July  24,  181 1. 

Dear  Eliza, —  In  these  hours  of  more  than  com- 
mon agitation,  I  think  you  will  like  to  know  what 
is  going  on,  and  what  my  opinion  upon  the  subject 
is.  Last  Saturday  evening  as  I  was  sitting,  watch- 
ing for  the  return  of  pa,  ma,  and  Mr.  Forbes,  some 
one  drove  up,  and  I  thought  it  was  Mr.  F.,  and 
addressed  him  as  such,  when  much  to  my  surprise 
the  answer  was  in  Judge  Lyman's  voice.  The  fam- 
ily collected  in  the  course  of  the  evening,  and  the 
Judge,  Mr.  Forbes  and  son,  and  our  own  two  boys 
were  here  all  Sunday.  John  Knapp  breakfasted 
here,  and  James  Lovell  and  wife  took  tea  here ;  so 
that,  amid  the  whole  of  it,  I  was  not  very  sorry  that 
Anne  was  not  here.  Monday  he  went  into  town  and 
brought  her  out.  She  introduced  him  to  some  of  her 
friends  there, —  the  thing  took  air,  and  is  now  cir- 
culated far  and  wide.  Yesterday  they  spent  the 
afternoon  in  riding  together,  and  called  at  Mr.  James 
Berkins's,  and  at  Mr.  Brince's  ;  and  to-day  they  have 
gone  into  Boston  together  again.  As  you  must  have 
perceived,  she  is  very  much  pleased  with  it  herself. 


68  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

I  should  have  liked  it  better  if  she  did  not  express  it 
so  openly ;  and  it  is  mysterious  to  me  how  a  hand- 
some young  woman,  who  has  been  caressed  by  the 
world  as  she  has,  should  be  so  flattered  and  delighted 
with  the  love  and  admiration  of  a  man  old  enough  to 
be  her  father.  Sometimes  I  feel  grieved  that  she 
should  undertake  such  cares,  and  such  responsibil- 
ity. Sometimes  I  feel  angry  that  she  should  allow 
this  prepossession  apparently  to  occupy  every  feeling 
of  her  heart,  and  so  entirely  to  engross  and  swallow 
up  every  other,  as  never  to  have  named  as  a  priva- 
tion that  she  has  to  remove  a  hundred  miles  from  all 
she  has  formerly  known  and  loved.  Indeed,  I  do 
not  think  that  if  he  was  five-and-twenty,  unincum- 
bered, handsome  and  rich,  good  and  estimable  that 
she  could  have  been  more  pleased  with  it,  or  decided 
upon  it  with  less  reflection.  Sometimes  I  am  pleased 
that  she  is  to  be  so  well  provided  for,  to  have  so  ex- 
cellent a  guardian,  and  so  kind  a  friend.  Amid  these 
various  sensations  I  am  in  constant  agitation,  and 
really  do  not  know  how  to  set  myself  about  any 
thing.  Thus  much  I  have  to  comfort  me  :  in  my 
disinterested  estimate  of  the  character  of  the  man,  I 
do  not  think  that  I  could  desire  a  better  one  for  the 
dearest  friend  I  have  on  earth.  Respectable  talents, 
chastened  sensibility,  and  pure  benevolence  beam 
from  his  countenance,  and  enliven  his  conversation. 

But  twenty-one  years  is  an  awful  chasm  in  human 
life,  and  five  children  a  great  charge  !  I  will  not 
"forecast  the  fashion  of  uncertain  evil,"  but  trust 
ail  to  the  mercy  of  that  God  whose  protection  has 
hitherto  been  abundantly  granted  to  us.     With  re- 


DEA  TH  OF  A  UNT  FORBES  69 

spect  to  his  proposals,  nothing  can  be  more  entirely 
honorable;  he  wishes  that  a  speedy  close  may  be 
put  to  the  matter.  We  wish  to  have  Anne  make 
a  visit  at  home  first.  Pa's  opinion  corresponds 
exactly  with  mine  ;  he  says  nothing  would  have 
induced  him  to  consent,  but  a  knowledge  of  how 
good  a  man  he  is. 

Surely  this  summer  is  the  most  eventful  period 
of  my  life ;  it  commenced  with  sickness,  death,  and 
sadness  ;  it  advanced  in  dulness  and  retirement ; 
my  dear  James's  new  establishment  prompts  some 
hopes  and  excites  some  fears, —  and  now  agitation 
has  ensued,  and  matrimony  will  close  the  scene. 

Good-by ;  I  shall  write  again  soon.  I  do  not 
know  how  long  the  Judge  will  stay,  but  I  guess  not 
a  great  many  days  longer. 

Yours  ever, 

S.  L.  Robbins. 

The  allusion  in  this  letter  to  the  sickness  and 
death  that  had  occurred  in  the  family  at  Brush  Hill 
was  that  of  Aunt  Forbes,  who  ended  her  life  of 
suffering  in  the  spring  of  181 1,  and  died,  deeply 
lamented  by  all  her  nieces.  I  have  heard  my 
mother  say  that  it  seemed  to  close  one  of  the  most 
interesting  chapters  of  their  early  life.  There  had 
always  been  an  atmosphere  of  romance  about  her, 
because  in  youth  she  had  lived  in  remote  parts  of 
the  world.  Her  three  children,  born  in  distant 
countries,  she  had  never  once  seen  together.  For 
many  years  crippled  with  rheumatic  gout,  she  was 
always  full  of    cheer   and   sympathy  for  the  young, 


70  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

and  a  bright  light  seemed  to  go  out  from  their  home 
when  she  had  left  it.  A  full-length  portrait  of  her 
by  Copley,  taken  when  she  was  sixteen  years  old, 
still  hangs  in  the  dining-room  at  Brush  Hill.  The 
face  is  full  of  character,  vivacity,  and  sweetness. 

On  the  30th  of  October,  181 1,  Anne  Jean  Rob- 
bins  became  the  wife  of  Judge  Lyman,  of  Northamp- 
ton ;  and  bidding  farewell  to  father  and  mother, 
brothers  and  sisters,  and  troops  of  friends,  she  went 
to  her  new  home  on  the  banks  of  the  beautiful 
Connecticut,  "a  hundred  miles  from  all  she  had 
formerly  known  and  loved."  It  makes  us  smile 
now,  in  these  days  of  railways  and  rapid  transition, 
and  constant  travel,  to  think  that  this  removal 
seemed  so  serious  a  distance,  in  the  minds  of  the 
sisters.  But  we  should  remember  that  it  was  then 
a  long,  tedious,  and  expensive  journey,  taken  in 
a  stage-coach  ;  also  that  a  letter  sent  by  post  cost 
twenty-five  cents,  so  that  the  means  of  communica- 
tion were  very  infrequent.  One  continually  finds 
reference  in  the  letters  of  that  time  to  the  fact  of 
having  found  an  opportunity  to  send  a  letter ;  a  rare 
and  delightful  circumstance. 

From  this  time  on  I  shall  no  longer  speak  of 
Anne  Jean,  but  shall  tell  her  story  as  that  of  my 
mother;  although  I  was  the  youngest  but  one  of 
her  children,  and  therefore  must  continue  my  narra- 
tive for  some  years  mainly  from  the  anecdotes  of 
others,  or  from  her  own  letters. 

Probably  no  young  girl  ever  more  completely 
realized  the  glowing  dreams  of  youth  than  did  my 
mother  in  her  marriage  ;  and,  certainly,  she  "  builded 


MARRIAGE  AND  A  NEW  HOME  71 

better  than  she  knew"  when,  with  her  free  and 
untrammelled  nature,  her  warm  and  impulsive  tem- 
perament, she  chose  the  companionship  of  the  coun- 
try gentleman  of  already  established  reputation,  to 
that  of  any  city-bred  man  in  whose  home  the  formal- 
ities of  wealth  and  fashion  would  have  been,  under 
the  best  of  circumstances,  a  burden  and  a  trial  to 
her.  For  although  there  were  people  who  called 
my  mother  aristocratic,  it  was  only  because  they 
did  not  know  her.  A  certain  grandeur  of  manner, 
nobility  of  figure  and  outline,  a  flow  of  elegant 
English  in  conversation,  may  have  given  that  im- 
pression to  a  casual  visitor ;  but  no  friend  or  neigh- 
bor in  Northampton  during  all  her  life  there  but 
saw  and  knew  that  she  was  essentially  a  woman  of 
the  people ;  full  of  sympathy  for  all  classes  and 
degrees,  claiming  no  superiority  in  any  department, 
and  having  no  higher  aim  than  to  light  and  warm 
the  neighborhood  where  God  had  placed  her.  I 
have  often  thought  how  lost  her  talents  would  have 
been  on  any  other  scene  of  action  than  just  the  one 
where  she  was  placed  ;  how  the  utter  absence  of 
care  for  externals  would  have  been  noted  as  a  fault 
rather  than  a  virtue  in  a  different  state  of  society ; 
how  those  little  beneficences,  which  flowed  from  her 
as  naturally  as  the  air  she  breathed,  would  never 
have  been  desired  or  appreciated  among  the  deni- 
zens of  cities  or  of  fashionable  life.  I  count  her 
to  have  been  happy  also  in  the  period  in  which  she 
lived,  as  well  as  the  home  in  which  her  lot  was  cast. 
All  times  are  good,  but  for  her  peculiar  nature  and 
disposition  no  time  could  have  been  better. 


72  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

Northampton  was  at  that  period  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  of  New  England  villages.  My  father's 
house  stood  in  the  very  centre, —  a  large,  old-fash- 
ioned square  house,  with  a  wing  on  each  side  back 
from  the  main  building.  Each  wing  had  a  little 
covered  porch  looking  out  into  the  main  street. 
A  small  yard  on  one  side  separated  the  house  from 
a  brick  store,  whose  upper  floor  was  occupied  by 
a  printing  office  The  other  side-yard  was  much 
larger  and  more  rural.  There  was  almost  a  grove 
of  beautiful  acacias  there,  and  in  the  little  front 
enclosure  was  a  tulip-tree  and  many  flowering 
shrubs ;  a  row  of  five  horse-chestnuts  and  a  large 
elm  shaded  and  protected  the  house  somewhat  from 
the  glare  and  dust  of  a  main  street.  Had  it  not 
been  for  the  kind  thoughtfulness  and  perseverance 
of  our  sister,  Mrs.  Joseph  Lyman,  we  should  never 
have  had  the  picture  of  that  happy  home  at  the 
opening  of  this  chapter.  The  outlooks  from  the 
house  were  all  charming.  On  the  opposite  side  of 
the  street,  and  separated  from  it  by  one  of  the 
loveliest  front  yards,  stood  our  neighbor's,  Mr.  Eben 
Hunt's.  That  place  was  always  kept  in  perfect 
order,  and  an  exquisite  taste  presided  over  all  the 
hedges  and  flowering  plants  and  lovely  vines.  Near 
to  it  came,  a  few  years  later,  our  little  church, — 
a  small  Grecian  temple, —  with  its  avenue  of  trees 
leading  to  it,  and  with  Mrs.  Hunt's  garden  on  one 
side  of  it,  and  my  father's  garden  on  the  other ; 
the  very  spot  now  occupied  by  the  public  library. 
From  every  window  in  our  house  there  was  some- 
thing  pleasant   for  the  eye  to  rest  upon,  and  little 


Pipe  -  #    i  fe^-ftS 


■  *V'" 

&•  'WW-  '-^  '  \%- 

'•.*'•-    V,".'         ,,.A  > 

'  '  •'■  ' '  '  • 


HER  HUSBAND'S  CHILDREN  73 

vistas  of  exquisite  beauty,  even  though  in  the  heart 
of  the  village.  As  soon  as  the  autumn  leaves  had 
fallen,  the  west  end  of  Mount  Tom  appeared  to  us 
through  the  interval  between  Mr.  Hunt's  house  and 
the  little  church, —  a  grand  and  noble  peak,  that 
well  repaid  us  for  the  loss  of  foliage  and  summer 
beauty ;  and  from  our  front  door,  winter  and  sum- 
mer, we  could  always  see  Mount  Holyoke  in  varying 
lights  and  shadows, —  sometimes  cloud-capped  and 
dark,  sometimes  resplendent  with  the  sun-tipped 
mists  that  were  rolling  away  from  it.  My  mother 
delighted  in  natural  beauty,  and  no  one  ever  en- 
joyed more  than  she  did  the  sights  and  sounds  that 
surrounded  her. 

Few  young  persons  ever  came  to  a  happier  home, 
or  were  surrounded  with  an  atmosphere  giving  freer 
scope  to  their  peculiar  faculties.  In  the  husband  of 
her  choice  she  found  not  only  warm  and  constant 
love  and  appreciation,  but  a  patience  with  the  faults 
of  her  impulsive  temperament,  rarely  equalled  and 
never  failing.  In  his  eldest  daughter,  who  united 
personal  beauty  to  loveliness  of  character,  earnest- 
ness of  purpose,  and  much  helpfulness  in  household 
matters,  she  realized  for  three  years  a  pleasant  com- 
panionship, and  the  greatest  assistance  in  the  care 
of  the  younger  children,  and  of  her  own  first  child, — 
to  whom  this  beloved  sister  was  devoted  through 
the  whole  of  his  beautiful  infancy.  Doubtless  my 
mother  made  many  a  mistake  with  regard  to  these 
children  ;  she  made  mistakes  about  her  own.  But, 
so  far  as  -I  know,  they  never  doubted  the  real  friend- 
liness   of   her  designs  and  purposes  with  regard  to 


74  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

them,  or  her  unselfish  pursuit  of  their  good, —  so  far 
as  her  different  temperament  enabled  her  to  under- 
stand theirs.  If  it  was  otherwise,  I  can  only  say 
that  my  elder  brothers  and  sisters  had  too  much 
good  taste  and  good  feeling,  too  much  love  for  their 
father  and  for  us,  and  too  much  of  his  own  patient 
and  warm-hearted  view  of  things,  ever  to  make  us 
aware  that  they  had  any  but  kindly  feelings  towards 
one  whose  heart  was  so  large  it  could  never  have 
stopped  at  her  own  hearth-stone. 

I  do  not  think  that  my  mother  or  her  sisters  had 
ever  dreamed  of  a  life  of  ease,  or  of  freedom  from 
care,  as  any  thing  to  be  desired.  On  the  contrary, 
they  gloried  in  responsibility,  believed  in  activity 
and  earnest  work,  with  all  the  intensity  of  simple  and 
healthy  natures. 

During  my  father's  widowhood,  his  cousin,  called 
in  the  family  "Aunt  Dwight,"  had  kept  house  for 
him  ;  and  she  remained  for  a  time  after  his  second 
marriage,  until  the  young  wife  became  wonted  to 
her  new  position.  I  have  heard  my  mother  speak 
of  her  as  one  of  the  kindest  and  best  of  women,  and 
also  as  having  a  sunny  temper,  and  much  of  that 
strong  common  sense  and  ready  wit  so  characteristic 
of  New  England  countrywomen  of  that  day.  My 
father's  house  had  always  been  noted  for  hospital- 
ity ;  and  what  with  the  throng  of  visitors  brought 
there  by  his  various  offices  of  trust,  which  had  made 
him  the  friend  of  the  whole  county,  and  the  large 
circle  of  family  friends  of  whom  he  was  the  centre, 
and  the  townspeople  who  had  always  considered  the 
house  as  their  place  of  meeting, —  the  care  of  pro- 


A  HEART  OF  HOSPITALITY  75 

viding  for  such  numbers  was  no  small  matter.  But 
in  this  particular  my  mother  always  went  heart  and 
hand  with  my  father.  Unlike  as  they  were,  both  in 
temperament  and  character,  they  were  most  perfectly 
agreed  in  their  social  ideas  and  sentiments,  and 
never  considered  it  any  effort  if  they  could  only 
make  large  numbers  of  people  happy  under  their 
roof.  Besides  our  elder  brothers  and  sisters,  we  had 
five  cousins  to  whom  my  mother  was  quite  as  strongly 
attached  as  my  father  was.  They  were  the  daugh- 
ters of  his  only  brother,  and  for  many  years  they 
came  and  went  with  the  freedom  of  children ;  some 
passing  months  of  every  year,  and  two  of  them 
spending  several  years,  with  us,  for  the  purposes  of 
their  education.  My  mother  loved  them  all  with 
great  devotion  ;  but  few  mothers  ever  feel  an  intenser 
affection  and  sympathy  for  an  own  child  than  she 
felt  for  Abby,  the  eldest,  who  lived  with  her  for  sev- 
eral years,  and  was  married  from  the  house.  There 
are  very  frequent  references  to  her  in  her  letters.  I 
greatly  regret  that  so  few  records  remain  of  the  first 
five  years  of  my  mother's  married  life,  and  that  I 
know  so  little  of  them.  But  they  were  bucy  and 
happy  years,  crowded  with  home  cares  and  social 
duties. 

Since  the  first  copies  of  this  memoir  were  distrib- 
uted in  a  large  family  circle,  a  little  tale  has  come 
to  me,  so  characteristic  of  her  habitual  thoughtful- 
ness  of  others  in  small  ways  that  I  insert  it  here. 
An  aged  woman  asked  to  read  the  Life,  and  did  so, 
and  closing  it,  said  to  her  companion,  "  I  have  reason 
""o  remember  Mrs.  Lyman,"   and  then  told  her  this 


7 6  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

story.  She  lived  on  the  outskirts  of  the  village,  and 
earned  her  living  by  taking  in  washing.  A  year 
after  my  mother's  marriage,  her  first  child,  Joseph, 
was  to  be  christened  in  the  Old  Church  along  with 
seven  other  infants.  Among  them  was  the  little 
child  of  this  good  woman.  As  she  had  been  over- 
worked all  through  the  week,  and  Sunday  was  ap- 
proaching, she  was  mourning  quite  to  herself  that  she 
had  had  no  time  to  prepare  a  cap  for  her  little  baby 
to  wear  at  his  baptism,  and  in  those  days  a  cap  was 
an  essential.  Soon  she  heard  her  gate  click,  and  my 
father's  little  daughter  Mary,  a  child  of  eight  years, 
came  up  to  her  with  a  little  box  in  her  hand,  and 
said,  "  My  little  brother  is  going  to  be  christened  to- 
morrow at  church  and  mother  heard  that  your  little 
baby  is  to  be  christened  too,  and  she  thought  per- 
haps you  might  not  have  time  to  make  him  a  cap, 
and  so  she  sends  you  three  for  you  to  choose  the 
one  you  like  best."  Sixty  years  had  passed  since 
that  christening,  and  that  small  and  simple  kindness 
and  the  reading  of  this  book;  but  the  aged  heart 
glowed  with  the  remembrance.  Oh  !  in  these  days 
of  costly  gifts  and  large  expenditures,  let  us  not  pass 
by  and  forget  the  remembrances  that  come  from 
warm  hearts  and  constant  habits  of  thoughtful  in- 
terest. 

She  had  the  power  of  attaching  to  her  the  domes- 
tics who  helped  to  carry  on  the  household,  and  made 
very  few  changes.  At  that  time  a  class  of  respecta- 
ble American  women  did  our  family  work,  and  the 
relation  between  mistress  and  servant  had  in  it  more 
affection    and    confidence    than    are    common    now : 


A  HAPPY  NURSERY  77 

though  these  sentiments  are  never  absent  in  the 
best  families  in  any  age.  When  my  brother  Joseph 
was  born,  an  excellent  woman  took  possession  of  the 
nursery  (who  abode  there  fifteen  years),  named  Mrs. 
Burt, —  or  Burty,  as  we  called  her;  and  she  only 
left  to  marry  again  late  in  life  a  man  whose  descend- 
ants are  among  the  most  honored  citizens  of  our 
commonwealth.  Burty's  name  was  always  a  house- 
hold word  in  our  family,  many  years  after  she  had 
left  us ;  for  she  had  been  the  trusted  and  confi- 
dential friend  of  parents  and  children,  nieces  and 
cousins,  and  visitors, —  taking  hold  of  every  sort  of 
nondescript  work  that  turned  up  in  the  large  family, 
with  the  heartiest  interest,  and  tending  her  babies 
by  the  way.  There  could  not  have  been  a  pleas- 
anter  nursery  than  ours  was,  nor  was  it  possible  for 
children  to  be  taken  care  of  in  a  more  entertaining 
way.  There  sat  our  mother  with  her  great  mending- 
basket  and  her  book,  and  there  sat  Burty  alternately 
sewing  and  attending  to  her  children.  Elder  broth- 
ers and  sisters  and  cousins  came  in  and  went  out, 
each  lending  a  hand  at  some  domestic  service,  or 
reading  aloud  to  my  mother  if  the  babies  were  quiet 
or  asleep.  Our  father  came  in,  and  would  take  her 
often  out  with  him  in  the  chaise,  if  he  were  going  to 
summon  a  jury,  or  do  any  of  his  various  business  in 
neighboring  towns.  And  how  quickly  she  found  her 
bonnet,  and  wrapped  up  the  baby  to  take  with  her, 
so  as  to  leave  Mrs.  Burt  more  time  for  other  labors  ! 
Children  who  grow  up  in  large  families,  and  are 
taken  care  ot  in  that  way,  and  always  in  the  so- 
ciety  of    their   elders,   are   favored   beyond    measure. 


78  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

Handed  about  from  one  to  another,  the  care  seldom 
falls  heavily  on  any  one  person ;  and  the  being 
mostly  with  refined  natures  has  an  insensible  influ- 
ence on  theirs.  Then  the  amount  of  entertainment 
to  young  children,  coming  without  any  expense  of 
time  or  means,  from  the  mere  spectacle  of  numbers 
of  grown  people  actively  occupied,  is  incalculable. 
I  have  heard  it  objected  that  the  conversation  of 
grown  persons  cannot  go  on  unreservedly  in  the 
presence  of  children.  But  any  that  cannot,  ought 
not,  as  a  general  thing.  Children  do  not  understand 
what  is  above  or  beyond  them,  though  they  may  be 
insensibly  elevated  by  high-toned  conversation  which 
they  cannot  understand.  And  what  is  beneath  them 
had  better  never  be  discussed.  If  a  little  child  is  a 
restraint  on  such  conversation,  then  by  all  means  let 
him  be  "set  in  the  midst  of  them."  My  mother 
seemed  to  go  on  with  every  thing  with  her  children 
all  around  her.  In  all  large  families  there  must  be 
some  friction  ;  days  when  things  go  wrong  and  the 
atmosphere  is  heavy.  We  had  those  days.  The 
dear  woman  had  not  a  perfect  temper,  and  had  her 
share  of  things  to  ruffle  it ;  and  more  than  once  the 
cook  has  said  to  Sally  Woodard,  our  dear  second 
girl,  "  Mis  Lyman's  got  up  wrong-eend  foremost 
this  day,  sure."  And  Sally  would  say,  "Yes,  but 
she'll  come  round  before  night."  And  so  she  did. 
There  was  nothing  wicked  in  her  fits  of  temper; 
though  violent,  they  were  usually  only  like  the 
summer  thunder-gusts  in  our  beautiful  valley,  that 
cleared  the  air,  and  renovated  the  landscape. 

Yet  it  would   not  be  quite  truthful  not  to  record 


HER  WA  YS  WITH  CHILDREN  79 

the  fact  that  her  strong  and  breezy  movements 
about  the  busy  house  were  sometimes  a  trial,  either 
to  the  sluggard  or  the  invalid  ;  and  that  sensitive 
hearts  sometimes  experienced  a  hurt  she  had  no 
intention  of  leaving.  My  father  and  all  his  children 
were  of  a  highly  emotional  cast  of  character ;  both 
his  elder  children  and  her  own  inherited  this  trait, 
and  she  was  sometimes  at  her  wits'  ends  to  account 
for  it.  "  Oh  !  those  Lyman  floodgates,"  she  said 
once  to  one  of  the  nieces," those  Lyman  floodgates 
seem  to  me  to  be  always  open.  What  have  I  done 
now  ? " 

She  was  very  entertaining  to  her  own  children. 
Some  of  my  young  friends  have  told  me  that  they 
were  a  little  afraid  of  her  when  children,  although 
they  became  warmly  attached  to  her  as  they  grew 
up.  And  I  think  this  was  very  likely,  because  she 
had  such  grand  ways  and  impressive  gestures.  But, 
in  us  who  were  familiar  with  them,  they  inspired 
no  such  awe.  She  never  nagged  children,  or  con- 
tradicted them,  or  made  them  naughtier  by  observ- 
ing on  their  little  naughtinesses.  She  had  the  finest 
way  of  diverting  them  without  their  knowing  it ; 
calling  otf  the  attention  from  a  troublesome  habit, 
by  proposing  some  new  and  interesting  occupation. 
She  had  a  quantity  of  "  nursery  rhymes "  at  her 
command,  which  she  repeated  on  occasion  in  such 
mock  heroic  style,  as  to  fix  them  forever  in  the 
memory.  One  favorite  occurs  to  me  now.  which 
she  used  to  say  in  a  sort  of  breathless  undertone, 
that  nearly  took  away  my  breath. 


80  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

"  If  every  tear  that  she  had  shed 
Had  been  a  needle  full  of  thread : 
If  every  sigh  of  sad  despair 
Had  been  a  stitch  with  proper  care, — 
Closed  would  have  been  the  luckless  rent, 
And  not  her  time  have  been  mis-spent. " 

My  mother  gave  appropriate  names  to  every  part 
of  the  large  house.  There  were  "the  old  parlor" 
and  "the  best  parlor,"  and  "the  hall,"  and  "the 
nursery,"  and  "the  library,"  and  "the  corridor,"  —  a 
covered  way  that  connected  "the  library"  and  "the 
office," — on  the  first  floor.  The  kitchens  and  their 
appurtenances  were  in  a  basement,  where  the  ground 
fell  off  at  the  back  of  the  house.  Of  the  chambers, 
one  was  always  called  "Sister  Mary's  room,"  through 
all  the  long  years  after  she  had  left  it ;  and  another 
"  Brother  Dvvight's  room;"  and  then  there  was 
Justin's  room  (the  man's),  and  the  two  best  chambers, 
east  and  west;  and  last,  not  least,  "the  turnpike,"  a 
lovely  chamber  through  which  one  had  to  pass  to 
get  into  the  west  wing,  and  where  there  was  always 
the  finest  view  to  be  caught  of  the  west  end  of 
Mount  Tom. 

Visitors  used  to  be  amused  to  hear  my  mother  say, 
"Go  call  Jane,  she  sleeps  now  on  the  'turnpike;'" 
or,  "  Bring  me  such  a  box  or  basket  from  '  the  corri- 
dor.' '  But  to  us  they  were  all  magic  designations 
that  now  call  up  a  hundred  precious  memories.  Our 
father  and  mother  occupied  the  library  as  their 
sleeping-room.  It  was  so  called  because  a  large  and 
deep  recess,  corresponding  to  a  closet,  on  one  side 
of   the    fireplace,  had  been  partitioned  off,    and  the 


A  FA  SCINA  TING  LIBRA  RY  8 1 

ceiling  of  a  dark  cupboard  below  formed  the  floor  of 
the  library,  which  had  glass  doors,  lined  with  plaited 
green  silk.  This  library  was  the  home  of  mystery 
and  romance.  The  lower  shelf  was  filled  with 
bound  volumes  of  the  "  American  Encyclopaedia," 
the  next  with  the  "  Waverley  Novels."  There  were 
volumes  of  the  "  North  American  Review "  and  the 
"Christian  Examiner;"  sermons  without  number, 
from  Jeremy  Taylor  and  Dr.  South  to  Buckminster 
and  Channing;  and  one  shelf  quite  devoted  to  the 
children's  books  of  that  day, — "  Evenings  at  Home," 
"  Sandford  and  Merton,"  "  Robinson  Crusoe,"  Miss 
Edgeworth's  charming  scries,  the  little  pocket 
edition  of  "  Harry  and  Lucy,"  and  "  Frank,"  — 
being  so  dear  to  the  heart  of  my  brother  Joseph,  that 
he  was  wont  to  read  them  over  once  a  year  as  long 
as  he  lived.  A  whole  row  of  little  volumes  of  the 
"Juvenile  Miscellany,"  edited  by  Mrs.  Child,  pos- 
sessed an  infinite  charm  for  us.  By  standing  on  a 
chair,  the  very  young  children  could  climb  into  this 
library,  close  the  glass  doors  with  silk  lining,  "tote  " 
in  a  little  chair,  and  be  perfectly  concealed  from 
view. 

The  dark  cupboard  underneath  had  been  inhabited 
from  time  immemorial  bv  a  family  named  "Bideful," 
—  perfect  figments  of  the  imagination,  but  who, 
nevertheless,  lived  through  several  generations,  and 
had  wonderful  histories  and  experiences.  If  any  of 
the  children  were  missing  too  long  from  parlor,  or 
hall,  or  nursery,  my  mother  would  say:  "Look  in 
the  library,  they  must  be  there  ;  or,  stay,  possibly 
they  are  passing  the  afternoon  with  'the  Bidefuls.' " 


82  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

And  when  we  returned,  she  would  inquire  in  the 
most  tender  and  affectionate  manner  after  the  well- 
being  of  "the  Bidefuls  ; "  and  add  new  interest  to 
their  histories  and  fate,  by  her  brilliant  or  witty 
suggestions.  Were  there  really  no  little  people  that 
lived  in  the  little  cupboard  under  the  library  ?  It  is 
so  hard  to  believe  now  that  it  was  all  a  myth ;  and 
that  the  lovely  Lucy,  the  last  of  that  ancient  family, 
had  no  material  existence. 

With  all  the  fine  health  of  my  father  and  mother, 
we  had  a  great  deal  of  sickness  in  our  house.  Our 
elder  brothers  and  sisters  had  inherited  delicate  con- 
stitutions from  their  mother,  and  three  of  my  moth- 
er's children  were  far  from  strong.  This  may  have 
been  caused  by  the  disparity  of  years  in  our  parents. 
But  I  think  the  health  of  all  was  materially  affected 
by  our  mother's  entire  ignorance  on  the  subject.  It 
was  the  one  great  defect  of  her  intelligence  that  she 
had  no  appreciation  of  that  ounce  of  prevention 
which  is  worth  more  than  a  pound  of  cure.  With 
an  iron  constitution  herself,  strong  nerves,  and 
healthy  blood,  she  had  no  understanding  of  how  the 
lack  of  these  things  may  be  supplied  and  built  up  by 
patient  forethought  and  care.  But  when  her  warm 
heart  was  wrung  by  the  sufferings  of  those  for  whom 
she  would  have  cheerfully  given  her  life,  we  could 
only  regret  that  she  had  known  so  little  how  to  avert 
the  calamities  she  deplored.  She  was  a  very  faith- 
ful and  devoted  nurse  in  the  severe  illnesses  that 
occurred,  not  only  in  her  own  family,  but  in  those 
of  her  neighbors  and  friends  ;  always  ready  to  lose 
her  sleep,    night    after   night,   as   long   as    any  one 


HEROIC  VIEW  OF  NERVES  83 

needed  it.  But,  the  moment  all  danger  was  over, 
the  patient  was  well  to  her  mind,  and  it  was  high 
time  to  set  about  the  real  business  of  life,  in  which 
sickness  was  an  untold  interruption.  Usually,  if  an 
illness  was  a  low  nervous  fever,  not  dangerous,  but 
requiring  much  care,  she  thought  it  a  good  time  to 
improve  all  our  minds  by  a  course  of  reading  aloud, 
for  which  there  was  never  any  uninterrupted  time 
in  our  ordinary  life.  And  I  remember  one  such  ill- 
ness, when  Ranke's  "  History  of  the  Popes,"  and 
Carlyle's  "  French  Revolution  "  were  manfully  put 
through  under  what  would  have  been  serious  diffi- 
culties to  any  one  else.  She  always  seemed  to  con- 
sider nerves  rather  as  vicious  portions  of  the  human 
character  than  as  constituents  of  the  mortal  frame ; 
and  as  they  interfered  sadly  with  duty,  with  benevo- 
lence, and  every  other  virtue,  they  must  be  dis- 
charged without  delay.  She  desired  to  be  thankful 
that  she  was  born  before  nerves  were  the  fashion. 
She  believed  entirely  in  the  power  of  mind  over 
body.  Alas  !  she  forgot  that  so  long  as  the  two  are 
united  there  must  be  constant  action  and  reaction 
of  each  upon  the  other  ;  and  we,  who  saw  her  mis- 
takes in  this  wise,  knew  that  some  of  the  heaviest 
trials  of  her  life  came  from  this  one-sided  view  of 
the  subject.  Yet  even  here  her  forcible  character 
implanted  a  grand  outlook  in  the  heart  of  an  invalid  ; 
and  one,  at  least,  of  that  large  family  has  never 
known  whether  most  to  deplore  the  ignorance  and 
false  view  that  wrought  such  sad  consequences,  or 
to  thank  and  bless  her  for  the  belief  so  powerfully 
inculcated,  that  though  the  outward  man  perish  the 
inward  may  be  renewed  day  by  day. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

Let  a  man,  then,  say  :  "  My  house  is  here  in  the  county,  for  the 
culture  of  the  county ;  an  eating-house  and  sleeping-house  for  trav- 
ellers it  shall  be,  but  it  shall  be  much  more.  I  pray  you,  O  excel- 
lent wife,  not  to  cumber  yourself  and  me  to  get  a  rich  dinner  for 
this  man  or  this  woman,  who  has  alighted  at  our  gate,  nor  a  bed- 
chamber made  ready  at  too  great  a  cost.  These  things,  if  they  are 
curious  in,  they  can  get  for  a  dollar  at  any  village.  But  let  this 
stranger,  if  he  will,  in  your  looks,  in  your  accent  and  behavior,  read 
your  heart  and  earnestness,  your  thought  and  will, —  which  he  cannot 
buy  at  any  price,  in  any  village  or  city,  and  which  he  may  well  travel 
fifty  miles,  and  dine  sparely  and  sleep  hard,  in  order  to  behold.  Cer- 
tainly, let  the  board  be  spread,  and  let  the  bed  be  dressed  for  the 
traveller;  but  let  not  the  emphasis  of  hospitality  lie  in  these  things. 
Honor  to  the  house,  where  they  are  simple  to  the  verge  of  hardship, 
so  that  there  the  intellect  is  awake  and  reads  the  laws  of  the  universe, 
the  soul  worships  truth  and  love,  honor  and  courtesy  flow  into  all 
deeds." —  Emerson. 


MY  father  was  forty-four  years  old,  ray  mother 
twenty-two,  at  the  time  of  their  marriage. 
It  has  been  said  by  such  numbers  of  people  that 
they  were  the  handsomest  couple  that  ever  came 
into  Northampton,  that  I  think  it  must  have  been 
true.  Beauty  is  certainly  a  passport  to  all  hearts, 
and  when,  as  in  their  case,  the  life  is  "in  accord- 
ance with  the  curious  make  and  frame  of  one's  crea- 
tion," there  is  an  influence  about  it  that  cannot  well 
be  computed.  They  now  became  the  centres  of  a 
social  circle,  not  easy  to  describe  in  these   days, — • 


v-  /■  .-/ 


/     7, 


THE  BOSTON  STAGE-COACH  87 

properly  attended  to.  Once  he  took  his  wife  with 
him  to  Boston,  the  plan  being  that  she  should  come 
back  the  next  week.  After  he  was  on  the  stage-box 
on  his  return  home,  he  carefully  made  his  estimate 
of  all  the  commissions  intrusted  to  him  by  the 
town  of  Northampton,  and  could  not  see  that  he  had 
forgotten  any  thing.  Yet  all  the  way  to  Worcester 
he  was  haunted  by  the  impression  that  he  really  had 
forgotten  something,  though  what  he  could  not  tell ; 
till,  just  as  he  whipped  up  his  horses  to  leave  that 
town,  it  suddenly  came  to  him,  and  he  exclaimed, 
"  Oh  !  it's  my  wife;  I've  left  my  wife  !  "  Of  course 
it  was  too  late  for  him  to  return  for  her,  and  of 
course  he  never  heard  the  last  of  it  in  Northampton. 
My  father  was  one  of  the  most  industrious  of 
men  ;  all  through  winter's  cold  and  summer's  heat 
he  labored  faithfully  at  his  law  business,  from  morn- 
ing till  night,  for  the  maintenance  of  his  large 
family.  If  ever  man  fulfilled  the  injunction,  "not 
slothful  in  business,  fervent  in  spirit,  serving  the 
Lord,"  he  did.  Social  enjoyment  was  his  great,  in 
fact  his  only,  recreation  ;  and  the  sound  of  the  stage- 
horn  at  even-tide  was  like  martial  music  to  a  war- 
horse.  I  lis  face  would  glow  in  the  evening  light, 
his  step  become  alert.  lie  reached  his  hat  from  the 
tree  in  the  hall,  and  hastened  out  to  be  at  the  tavern 
before  the  stage  appeared.  With  a  shining  counte- 
nance, he  would  return  and  tell  of  the  fine  people 
who  had  arrived  ;  how  he  had  offered  his  carriage 
and  horses  to  Mr.  A.,  or  Mrs.  B.  and  her  daughters, 
to  go  up  the  mountain  next  day;  how  he  had  in- 
vite 1    this   friend   to   breakfast   with   him,  another  to 


88  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

tea.  More  often  he  came  home  with  some  tale  of 
some  person  in  ill-health,  or  in  sorrow,  not  likely 
to  be  made  quite  comfortable  at  the  tavern  ;  and  a 
"Wouldn't  it  be  well  to  send  Hiram  for  their  trunks, 
and  tell  them  to  come  right  here?"  To  which  my 
mother's  quick  response,  "  Why,  of  course,  that's 
the  only  thing  to  do,"  made  him  entirely  happy,  as 
he  hurried  off  to  summon  his  guests. 

Once  I  recall  his  coming  home  from  Mount  Hol- 
yoke  in  great  glee,  because  his  friend  Judge  Dawes 
had  made  the  ascent  with  him ;  and  he  told  how,  as 
they  rounded  the  last  steep  of  the  mountain,  and  the 
whole  glorious  view  burst  upon  him,  Judge  Dawes 
had  grasped  his  hand  fervently  and  said,  "  Why, 
Judge  Lyman,  it's  a  perfect  poem." 

The  number  of  really  fine  gentlemen  of  the  old 
school,  who  assembled  at  our  house  to  see  my  father, 
almost  every  day  for,  at  least,  seven  or  eight  months 
of  every  year,  was  very  great.  The  judges  of  the 
Supreme  Court  were  all  warmly  attached  to  him, 
and  they  delighted  in  my  mother's  society.  Judge 
Williams  once  said  :  "When  I  go  on  the  circuit,  I 
try  to  find  some  young  person  who  has  never  been 
at  Northampton  ;  and  then  I  take  them  to  Judge 
Lyman's,  because  I  consider  that  a  part  of  a  liberal 
education."  As  I  remember, — -and  it  must  always 
have  been  so, —  much  of  the  conversation  of  my 
father  and  his  friends  was  upon  the  events  and  the 
history  of  the  times,  and  none  at  all  upon  any  small 
or  local  gossip. 

Three  years  after  my  mother's  marriage,  the  Hart- 
ford   Convention   came  off,  and  my  father,  being  a 


BIRTH  OF  HER  OLDEST  CHILD  89 

member,  took  her  with  him  there ;  and  they  both 
had  a  very  delightful  time,  and  received  a  great  deal 
of  attention.  As  the  objects  and  purposes  of  that 
celebrated  body  were  always  kept  strictly  secret,  my 
mother  never  referred  to  it  in  any  way,  except  in  its 
collateral  enjoyments. 

Although  she  had  left  her  old  home  far  behind 
her,  and  was  now  absorbed  in  a  round  of  household 
cares  and  social  duties  that  were  most  engrossing, 
yet  the  family  life  at  Brush  Hill  was  still  a  deep 
interest  in  her  heart ;  and  she  kept  up  a  constant 
and  ardent  correspondence  with  her  parents, 
brothers,  and  sisters.  The  Forbes  cousins  also  came 
in  for  a  large  share  of  her  affectionate  remembrance  ; 
and  with  Cousin  Emma, —  the  frequent  companion 
of  her  little  sister  in  her  early  efforts  at  teaching, — 
she  corresponded  for  more  than  twenty  years.  Both 
sisters  and  cousins  began  to  visit  her  soon  after  her 
marriage,  and  these  were  always  occasions  of  heart- 
felt pleasure. 

On  the  14th  of  August,  18 12,  my  mother's  oldest 
child  was  born  ;  and  never  did  the  birth  of  a  son 
awaken  deeper  emotions  of  love  and  gratitude  than 
did  our  dear  Joseph's.  How  carefully  she  watched 
over  the  moral  and  intellectual  influences  that  sur- 
rounded Ids  youth,  only  those  knew  who  lived  with 
her  then.  From  this  time  forth  she  was  constantly 
occupied  with  t lie  cares  of  young  children,  as  well  as 
of  tlmse  who  were  growing  up  ;  and  at  the  same 
time  uniting  with  my  father  in  what  our  friend  Mr. 
Rufus  Ellis  has  since  called  "a  hospitality  that 
carries  us  back   to  earlv  davs   in   the  Fast." 


go  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

In  her  account  of  my  mother's  youth,  my  Aunt 
Catherine  has  spoken  of  her  music,  as  being  a  great 
occupation  and  pleasure  to  her ;  but  after  her  mar- 
riage she  had  little  time  for  practising,  and  confined 
herself  to  playing  for  a  half  hour  at  twilight  or  after 
tea,  the  short  time  before  the  children  went  to  bed. 

The  "old  parlor,"  where  we  lived  for  eight  months 
of  the  year,  was  a  square  room  of  moderate  size, 
with  two  windows  on  the  street,  and  one  on  the  side- 
yard  towards  the  printing  office.  It  was  a  simple 
room,  but  very  pretty.  The  walls  were  covered 
with  a  pale-yellow  paper,  and  varnished  ;  the  broad 
wooden  panels  lining  the  room  for  three  feet  in 
height.  The  floor  was  covered  with  an  English 
Kidderminster  carpet  of  bright  colors.  A  large 
Franklin  stove,  with  brass  finishings  and  fender  and 
andirons  shining  brightly  in  the  firelight,  gave 
warmth  and  cheerfulness  to  the  room.  A  clock  of 
alabaster,  with  swinging  pendulum,  stood  on  a 
bracket  between  the  two  windows.  The  furniture 
was  cane-seated,  but  had  hair-cushions  covered  with 
bright  chintz.  A  sofa  and  two  rocking-chairs,  a  cen- 
tre-table and  an  upright  English  piano  (the  only  one 
in  the  town  for  many  years),  constituted  the  remain- 
ing furniture.  Over  this  piano,  in  an  old-fashioned 
gilt   frame,    hung  a   picture    of    Domenichino's    St. 

Cecilia,  a  beautiful  engraving  by  ;  which  was 

the  delight  of  my  childhood. 

Before  the  children  were  sent  to  bed,  my  mother 
always  played  the  "  Copenhagen  Waltz"  and  "The 
Battle  of  Prague,"  with  variations,  with  much  vigor. 
She  was  iruillless  of  ever  havinir  heard  of  "  classical 


"  THE  CHILDREN'S  HOUR"  91 

music ;  "  and  I  fear  the  performance  would  hardly 
satisfy  us  now,  though  we  thought  it  charming  then. 
On  Sunday  nights  she  played  a  number  of  psalm 
tunes,  singing  also  with  much  feeling  and  fervor. 
"Dundee,"  "Federal  Street,"  "  Calmar,"  and  "  Pley- 
el's  Hymn  "  were  always  favorites.  When  on  week- 
day evenings  she  played  the  former  tunes,  we  always 
expected  to  have  a  waltz  with  the  dear  old  father. 
But,  though  much  past  sixty  years  of  age,  how  young 
he  seemed  ;  how  vigorous  !  He  called  us  his  "little 
pigeons  ; "  and,  bending  down  to  us,  would  lift  us  off 
our  feet,  and  whirl  us  round  the  room,  till  we  were 
all  satisfied  with  the  dance.  Then  suddenly  he  shook 
us  off,  as  if  we  had  been  so  many  flies ;  declared  he 
had  "a  bone  in  his  back  "  (which  we  supposed  to  be 
a  disease  peculiar  to  himself),  and  seating  himself, 
quite  spent,  in  his  high-backed  leather  rocking-chair, 
he  was  soon  gone  off  in  his  evening  nap,  glad  if  he 
had  been  helped  thereto  by  little  fingers  softly  strok- 
ing his  white  hair.  Oh  for  a  picture  of  that  noble 
face,  as  it  looked  then  in  sleep,  when  the  evening 
firelight  lit  up  the  peaceful  features  that  had  for  sixty 
years  been  "  the  home  of  all  the  benignities  !  "  Then 
came  a  solemn  moment.  When  we  went  to  say 
"good  night"  to  our  mother,  she  would  exclaim, 
"And  now,  children,  where  are  your  monuments  ? " 
Then  we  made  haste  to  bring  her  any  little  task  we 
had  completed,  any  small  work  done,  and  receive 
either  her  commendation  or  an  emphatic  urging  to 
do  better  next  time.  But  this  was  not  all ;  she  would 
often  remark  on  the  friends  who  had  come  and  gone 
that  day,  and  say  :  "  When  I  was  out  to-day,  I  heard 


92  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

that  Mrs.  So-and-so  called.  She  is  old  and  poor,  and 
had  walked  a  long  distance.  Did  you  ask  her  to  stop, 
and  give  her  a  warm  seat,  and  tell  her  to  stay  to 
dinner,  or  wait  till  I  came  home  ?  "  Alas  !  intent  on 
play,  we  had  never  thought  of  it.  "Well,  Miss  B. 
came  this  afternoon  ;  she  wanted  a  book  :  did  you  tell 
her  you  would  find  out  about  it  and  bring  it  to  her  ?  " 
No  !  we  had  not.  "  Oh,  my  dear  children,"  would  be 
the  answer,  given  with  some  emotion,  "  you've  lost 
your  opportunity!'  These  words  made  an  intense 
impression  on  my  mind.  Surely  no  loss  could  be  so 
great  as  that,  the  loss  of  an  opportunity  to  do  a  kind- 
ness. Ah  !  if  children  in  that  home  grew  up  selfish 
and  inconsiderate  of  the  claims  or  rights  or  needs  of 
others,  it  was  their  own  fault ;  for  they  were  better 
taught. 

She  loved  to  give  us  pleasure ;  and  on  her  yearly 
visits  to  Boston  or  Brush  Hill,  would  always  take 
one  or  two  of  us  with  her, —  never  feeling  us  a  care 
or  an  encumbrance,  in  the  long  journey  of  eighteen 
hours  by  stage-coach,  which  had  to  begin  at  mid- 
night. Yet  how  much  of  the  wear  and  tear  of  our 
present  life  was  escaped  in  those  days,  by  not  having 
to  hurry  to  a  railway  train.  There  were  no  expresses 
then,  and  so  when  it  was  known  in  the  village  that 
Judge  and  Mrs.  Lyman  were  going  to  Boston  (and 
they  always  took  pains  to  make  it  known),  a  throng 
of  neighbors  were  coming  in  the  whole  evening 
before  ;  not  only  to  take  an  affectionate  leave,  but 
to  bring  parcels  of  every  imaginable  size  and  shape, 
and  commissions  of  every  variety.  One  came  with  a 
dress  she  wanted  to  send  to  a  daughter  at  school  ; 


NEIGHBORHOOD  COMMISSIONS  93 

another  with  a  bonnet ;  one  brought  patterns  of  dry- 
goods,  with  a  request  that  Mrs.  Lyman  would  pur- 
chase and  bring  home  dresses  for  a  family  of  five. 
And  would  she  go  to  the  orphan  asylum  and  see  if  a 
good  child  of  ten  could  be  bound  out  to  another 
neighbor  till  she  was  eighteen  ;  and  if  so,  would 
Mrs.  Lyman  bring  the  child  back  with  her  ?  An- 
other friend  would  come  in  to  say  that  her  one 
domestic  had  an  invalid  sister  living  in  Ware ;  and 
another  a  mother  in  Sudbury,  on  the  stage  route. 
When  the  stage  stopped  for  breakfast  or  dinner, 
or  relays  of  horses,  would  Mrs.  Lyman  run  round 
and  hunt  up  these  friends,  carry  them  messages  and 
presents,  and  bring  back  word  when  she  came  home 
how  they  were, —  it  would  make  Sally  or  Amy  so 
much  more  contented  through  the  winter ! 

The  neighbors  walked  into  the  library  where  the 
packing  was  going  on  ;  and,  when  all  the  family 
trunks  were  filled,  my  father  called  out  heartily, 
"Here,  Hiram,  bring  down  another  trunk  from  the 
garret,  the  largest  you  can  find,  to  hold  all  these 
parcels !  "  And  on  one  occasion,  when  all  were 
finally  packed,  a  little  boy  came  timidly  in,  with  a 
bundle  nearlv  as  large  as  himself,  from  another 
neighbor,  and  "would  this  be  too  big  for  Mrs. 
Lyman  to  carry  to  grandmother;  mother  says  she 
needs  it  so  much,  this  time  of  year?"  "No,  in- 
deed," my  mother  would  say;  "tell  your  mother  I'll 
carry  any  thing  short  of  a  cooking-stove."  "An- 
other trunk,  Hiram,"  said  my  father;  "and  ask  the 
driver  to  wait  five  minutes."  Those  were  times 
when  people  could  wait  five  minutes  for  a  family  so 


94  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

well  known  and  beloved.  If  a  little  behind  time, 
our  driver  had  only  to  whip  up  his  horses  a  little 
faster  before  he  came  to  the  Belchertown  hills  ;  and 
when  he  came  to  those,  the  elders  got  out,  and  light- 
ened the  load,  to  facilitate  the  journey.  What  jour- 
neys they  were !  How  full  of  romance  and  advent- 
ure !  The  first  one  I  recall  was  when,  at  five  years 
old,  I  was  taken  up  out  of  a  sound  sleep  at  one 
o'clock  at  night,  by  my  cousin  Emma  Forbes ; 
dressed  by  her  in  a  very  sleepy  state,  she  not  failing 
to  encourage  me  by  telling  me  that  I  was  a  "good 
little  kitten,"  who  was  going  to  Boston  with  her  and 
my  mother ;  then  dropping  asleep  in  her  arms  as 
soon  as  the  stage  started,  and  not  waking  till  sun- 
rise. And  such  a  sunrise !  I  had  never  seen  it 
before ;  and  having  in  a  childish  way  had  my  vague 
ideas  of  another  world,  I  started  up,  and  looking 
beyond  the  Belchertown  hills,  at  the  glorious  hori- 
zon, I  asked  Cousin  Emma  if  we  were  going  to 
heaven. 

My  father  and  Uncle  Howe  always  met  with  won- 
derful adventures  on  these  journeys.  When  they 
stopped  at  the  good  breakfast  at  Belchertown,  they 
were  sure  to  meet  some  one  they  knew,  who 
brought  them  tidings  they  had  been  waiting  for. 
At  Ware,  later  in  the  morning,  a  concourse  of 
stages  met  from  the  west  and  south;  and  some  of 
the  passengers  would  be  transferred  to  our  stage 
for  Boston.  Then  often,  what  handshakings,  what 
lighting  up  of  countenances,  as  friends  parted  for 
many  years  met  in  this  seemingly  providential  way, 
and  knew  they  were  to  pass  at  least  twelve  hours 


STAGE-COACH  JOURNEYS  95 

in  each  other's  company,  within  the  friendly  limits 
of  the  stage-coach  !  Now  and  then  they  met  agreea- 
ble strangers,  who  became  friends  for  life ;  for  on 
such  a  journey  conversation  flowed  freely ;  all  were 
enjoying  that  delicious  freedom  from  business  and 
household  care,  that  is  so  favorable  to  the  inter- 
change of  thought,  and  the  comparatively  slow 
progress  of  the  coach  over  a  country  rich  in  beauti- 
ful scenery  gave  a  peaceful  flow  to  the  ideas,  not 
interrupted  by  the  shriek  of  railroad  whistles,  or  the 
sudden  arrival  at  some  crowded  station. 

I  remember  one  such  journey,  where  a  distin- 
guished politician  opened  a  fire  upon  two  worthy 
Quakers  from  Philadelphia,  which  brought  out  from 
them,  though  in  gentlest  terms,  their  anti-slavery 
sentiments.  My  father,  being  an  old  federalist, — 
while  he  believed  slavery  to  be  a  great  crime  against 
God  and  man, —  was  still  of  the  opinion  that  was 
held  by  many  good  men  of  his  time,  that  it  was  a 
question  that  belonged  to  the  South  to  settle  for 
themselves  ;  and  that  it  was  both  useless  and  dan- 
gerous for  the  North  to  meddle  with  it.  Yet  he 
was  disgusted  at  the  manner  in  which  the  politician 
attempted  to  brow-beat  the  excellent  Friends  ;  and 
so  manfully  stood  up  for  their  right  to  their  own 
opinions  and  to  the  expression  of  them,  that  thirty 
years  later,  when  accident  brought  one  of  his  chil- 
dren to  their  acquaintance,  they  expressed  a  most 
grateful  remembrance  of  his  courtesy  and  support 
through  a  day's  journey  that  would  have  been  made 
intolerable  by  the  presence  of  their  other  compan- 
ion.    This  was  before  the  days  of  the  abolitionists, 


96  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

—  years  before  Garrison  and   Phillips   had  sounded 
the  tocsin. 

Their  visits  to  Boston  were  enchanting  to  hear 
about ;  and  when  they  returned  home  after  an  ab- 
sence of  two  or  three  weeks,  again  the  neighbors 
collected  to  hear  the  news.  And  as  they  sat  around 
the  blazing  wood-fire,  the  evening  after  their  home- 
coming, all  the  trunks  unpacked  and  put  away,  and 
the  return-parcels  and  messages  delivered,  all  those 
children  who  had  not  accompanied  them  on  the 
journey  were  allowed  to  sit  up  as  long  as  they 
pleased.  As  one  friend  after  another  dropped  in, 
the  talk  became  most  animated.  To  one  they  told 
of  their  dinners  at  Judge  Shaw's,  Judge  Wilde's,  or 
Judge  Putnam's ;  or  of  the  signs  gathering  in  the 
political  horizon,  they  had  heard  discussed.  To  an- 
other they  descanted  on  the  Sundays  they  had  en- 
joyed; how  the  eloquence  of  Dr.  Channing  had 
uplifted  their  minds,  and  how  their  hearts  had 
burned  within  them  as  they  talked  with  dear  friends 
on  the  rise  and  growth  of  liberal  Christianity  in 
New  England.  And  then  how  many  friends  of 
their  friends  they  had  contrived  to  see,  and  how 
many  salutations  they  brought  to  those  less-favored 
neighbors,  who  could  not  go  to  Boston  once  a  year 
as  they  did.  Yes,  these  visits  made  a  festival  for 
the  whole  neighborhood  as  well  as  for  themselves. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

What  wouldst  thou  have  a  good,  great  man  obtain  ? 
Place,  titles,  salary,  a  gilded  chain  ? 
Or  throne  of  corses  which  his  sword-hath  slain  ? 
Greatness  and  goodness  are  not  means,  but  ends  : 
Hath  he  not  always  treasures,  always  friends, 
The  good,  great  man?  —  three  treasures,  love  and  light, 
And  calm  thoughts  regular  as  infant's  breath ; 
And  three  firm  friends,  more  sure  than  day  and  night, 
Himself,  his  Maker,  and  the  angel  Death. 

Coleridge. 

"|\ /T  Y  father's  best-beloved  and  most  intimate  friend 
was  his  cousin,  Samuel  Howe, —  a  man  whose 
pure  spirit  and  high  character,  united  to  an  intellect 
of  unusual  vigor,  made  him  the  choicest  companion 
in  the  home  circle.  He  lived  at  Worthington, — 
one  of  the  beautiful  hill  towns  of  Hampshire  County, 
so  situated  as  to  enable  the  resident  lawyer  to  prac- 
tise in  several  counties.  He  had  always  been  a 
frequent  visitor  at  our  house  ;  and,  as  he  had  lost 
his  wife  a  few  months  before  my  father's  second 
marriage,  and  was  left  alone  with  two  young  chil- 
dren, it  was  natural  for  him  to  seek  the  solace  of 
his  friend's  home,  after  my  mother  came  there. 
What  his  society  and  friendship  were  I  can  only 
estimate  by  the  life-long  allusions  to  his  judgment 
and  his  heart  by  both  my  parents,  and  to  a  memory 
always  kept  green  to  their  latest  day. 


98  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

During  the  winter  of  1812,  my  father  sent  his 
hired  man,  with  a  double-sleigh  and  two  horses,  to 
Boston,  to  bring  home  his  oldest  daughter,  Eliza, 
who  was  there  on  a  visit ;  and,  to  my  mother's  great 
delight,  her  sister  Sally  also  returned  in  the  sleigh, 
to  make  her  a  long  visit.  One  can  imagine  the  long 
two  days'  journey,  in  mid-winter,  in  the  open  sleigh  ; 
the  keen,  frosty  air,  the  young  girls  well  wrapped 
in  buffalo-robes,  and  Northampton  as  their  goal, 
with  its  hospitable  home  to  welcome  them,  when 
the  cold  and  weary  journey  was  ended.  In  Sally's 
letters  to  Miss  Cabot  at  this  time  are  frequent  allu- 
sions to  Mr.  Howe's  visits  at  the  house ;  and  she 
always  speaks  of  him  as  "the  mountaineer."  Evi- 
dently she  had  not  regarded  him  in  the  light  of 
a  lover;  and  the  entirely  unrestrained  and  natural 
intercourse  that  followed  was  the  best  possible  prep- 
aration for  that  rare  union  of  mind  and  heart  that 
can  only  subsist  between  beings  of  the  finest  mould. 
Writing  to  her  dearest  friend  of  the  result  of  this 
intimacy,  she  speaks  of  him  as  possessing  all  those 
qualities  she  most  desires  in  a  companion  ;  and  adds, 
with  characteristic  humility,  "  If  I  have  not  the 
pleasure  of  exciting  a  first  attachment,  I  cannot 
doubt  that  I  am  beloved,  for  it  is  impossible  that 
any  man  should  choose  me  from  any  other  motive." 

And  so,  in  little  more  than  two  years  after  her 
own  marriage,  my  mother  experienced  the  purest 
pleasure  in  the  union  of  her  dear  sister  Sally  to 
this  friend  of  friends.  My  father's  happiness  in  this 
event  was  fully  equal  to  her  own  ;  and  from  this 
time  the  most  delightful  intercourse  went  on  between 


MARRIAGE  OF  SALLY  ROBBINS  99 

the  sisters,  and  the  two  homes  at  Northampton  and 
Worthington  were  gladdened  by  a  constant  inter- 
change of  warm  affection.  My  Aunt  Catherine 
writes :  — 

"With  regard  to  your  Aunt  Howe's  life  at  Worth- 
ington, I  question  my  power  of  writing  anything 
that  will  be  interesting.  I  have  no  special  faculty 
of  making  an  interesting  narrative  out  of  simple 
things,  and  would  on  no  account  ornament,  or  throw 
any  false  hue  of  sentiment  over  a  life  of  plain  duty, 
governed  by  high  principle  and  animated  by  the 
purest  sentiments. 

"Worthington  is  a  mountain  town,  much  higher 
above  the  Connecticut  valley  than  the  hills  that 
immediately  overlook  it.  It  is  approached  by  the 
ascent  of  long  hills,  over  rough  roads ;  and  the 
transit,  about  twenty  miles,  with  their  own  horses, 
as  the  two  families  usually  made  it,  took  much  longer 
than  a  journey  of  a  hundred  miles  now  does. 

"There  was  no  village,  or  centre  of  things  about 
it,  more  than  a  tavern,  a  store,  and  half-a-dozen 
houses,  where  were  gathered  together  such  conven- 
iences as  belonged  to  the  place.  In  the  midst  of 
this  your  uncle's  house  was  situated  ;  a  large,  square 
house,  with  an  ample  yard  open  to  the  south,  with 
a  very  pleasant  aspect.  It  was  much  the  best  house 
in  the  place, —  built  by  the  lawyer  who  preceded 
Mr.  Howe  in  the  town.  Opposite  was  the  public 
house,  where  the  Albany  stage  stopped  each  day, 
going  up  and  returning  on  alternate  days.  This 
coach  brought  the  mail,  and  such  travellers  as  came 
there,  and  afforded  the  chief  interest  that  they  had 


ioo  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

outside  of  the  house.  There  were  two  or  three 
families  with  whom  they  kept  up  a  friendly  inter- 
course, and  a  church  a  mile  distant,  which  sent  forth 
the  hardest  and  dryest  kind  of  doctrine,  and  was 
a  penance  to  attend.  It  was  in  1813  that  your 
aunt  went  to  live  there, — -in  the  middle  of  the  war 
of  that  period.  Everybody  was  poor,  and  they  fur- 
nished their  house  with  plainness  and  simplicity, 
but  still  comfortably.  And  here  they  set  up  their 
household  gods,  and  began  life  on  a  simple  plan 
which  afforded  many  enjoyments,  at  the  same  time 
that  it  brought  some  important  privations.  There 
were  two  children  from  the  beginning.  Mr.  Howe 
usually  had  a  student  in  his  office  (adjoining  the 
house),  who  lived  with  them  ;  and  I  think  it  was  in 
the  first  year  that  William  Cullen  Bryant  was  with 
them  in  this  position.  Your  aunt  also  often  had 
some  friend  with  her,  so  that  from  the  commence- 
ment of  their  married  life  they  had  a  considerable 
family,  affording  some  domestic  society,  but  increas- 
ing care.  The  great  deficiency  of  their  life,  in  the 
way  of  comfort,  was  the  impossibility  of  procuring 
domestics.  Sometimes  they  were  weeks  without  a 
woman,  but  always  had  a  man  who  performed  some 
of  the  rougher  services.  Though  your  aunt  was 
capable  and  industrious,  and  knew  all  about  domes- 
tic business,  this  was  hard  to  her  ;  she  had  not  been 
accustomed  to  it,  and  her  time  was  occupied  in  ways 
that  did  not  permit  the  exercise  of  her  favorite  pur- 
suits. Mr.  Howe  was  the  most  helpful  and  kindly 
of  domestic  companions,  and  did  all  that  a  man 
could  to  lighten  those  cares.     Still  enough  remained 


LIFE  AT  WORTH INGTON  iot 

to  make  life  laborious  at  this  period.  Mr.  Howe 
was  full  of  occupations,  and  often  absent  from  home. 
He  was  away  attending  courts  in  all  the  adjacent 
counties  many  weeks  of  every  year.  The  winters 
were  long  and  cold,  the  snow  deep,  and  the  roads 
made  indiscriminately  over  fences  and  fields,  as  well 
as  in  the  paths ;  wherever  was  the  most  available 
place.  These  absences  were  hard  times  to  her  dur- 
ing the  first  years  ;  later,  I  think  after  two  years, 
Eleanor  Walker  went  to  live  with  her  as  a  compan- 
ion and  assistant  in  all  ways,  and  was  the  greatest 
addition  to  the  comfort  of  the  household. 

"Dr.  Bryant,  their  physician,  and  Mr.  Howe's 
especial  friend  (the  father  of  William  Cullen  Bryant), 
lived  four  miles  distant,  at  Cummington  ;  he  was  a 
wise  and  learned  man,  and  his  society  was  at  times 
a  great  resource  to  Mr.  Howe,  though  he  was  very 
reserved  to  most  persons. 

"Visits  were  exchanged  between  your  mother 
and  aunt,  several  times  every  year.  Mr.  Howe 
always  attended  the  courts  at  Northampton,  and 
your  aunt  went  when  she  could,  but  she  was  often 
prevented  by  domestic  circumstances.  These  visits 
were  always  seasons  of  great  social  enjoyment  ;  the 
sisters  had  many  interests  in  common, —  your  mother 
with  her  more  varied  experiences  had  a  great  deal 
to  tell  of  her  numerous  and  interesting  visitors,  or 
her  journeys  to  Boston,  and  sojourn  among  old 
friends,  which  were  more  frequent  than  your  aunt's. 
It  was  a  period  full  of  excitement  about  public 
affairs;  the  war  and  the  questions  which  grew  out 
of  it,  the  policy  of  the  government,  &c,  were  never- 


102  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

ending  subjects  of  discussion  with  your  father  and 
uncle,  who  sympathized  quite  remarkably  in  their 
views,  and  prophesied  about  the  future, —  things 
very  unlike  the  actual  unfolding  of  the  book  of  fate, 
—  as  wise  men  still  do,  and  always  must;  their  own 
views  and  beliefs  being  very  interesting  and  impor- 
tant to  them  for  the  time  being. 

"At  a  later  period,  when  religious  views  and  the 
subject  of  religious  freedom  became  exciting,  it  was 
discussed  with  the  same  interest  and  general  agree- 
ment. Mr.  Howe  had  grown  up  in  the  acceptance 
of  Orthodox  theology,  then  unquestioned  in  the 
society  surrounding  him ;  but  after  his  marriage,  he 
reviewed  the  whole  subject  with  careful  study,  heard 
our  best  preachers  when  he  had  opportunity,  and 
became  a  decided  and  conscientious  Unitarian.  This 
was  a  great  satisfaction  to  your  aunt,  and  a  new 
bond  of  sympathy  between  the  two  families. 

"  When  at  home,  if  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Howe  were 
ever  so  much  occupied  during  the  day,  some  hours 
were  always  spent  in  reading  aloud ;  usually  having 
some  important  work  on  hand,  but  always  ready  to 
interrupt  it  for  matters  of  especial  interest,  or  lighter 
character,  if  entertaining.  Mr.  Howe  was  a  great 
and  constant  reader  ;  he  had  always  a  book  on  hand ; 
five  minutes  of  waiting  were  never  lost  in  impatience, 
but  occupied  with  book  or  paper.  Scantily  as  they 
were  supplied  with  luxuries  in  those  days,  Mr.  Howe 
seldom  returned  from  a  visit  to  more  favored  regions, 
without  a  new  book  to  enliven  the  home  on  his 
return.  Their  tastes  and  feelings  harmonized  won- 
derfully well,  but  your  aunt  was  more  fond  of  imag- 


ISO  LA  TION  OF  COUNTRY  LIFE  103 

inative  literature,  and  he  of  works  which  exercise 
the  reason  and  add  to  the  store  of  knowledge.  But 
she  enjoyed  all  these  things  with  him. 

"Mr.  Howe  had  an  admirable  power  of  conversa- 
tion, clearness  of  thought,  knowledge  ready  to  be 
fitly  used,  and  a  natural  gift  of  language,  which 
made  his  society  a  most  welcome  addition  to  any 
circle.  This  facility  of  using  his  powers  wisely  and 
well  was  a  great  advantage  to  him  in  the  practice  of 
his  profession,  and  invaluable  to  him  as  a  teacher, 
when  later  he  became  the  head  of  a  law  school,  a 
guide  and  leader  of  thought  to  young  men. 

"Your  aunt  enjoyed  a  great  deal  at  times,  in  her 
isolated  life  at  Worthington,  but  at  other  times  she 
felt  the  evils  of  it  painfully.  Mr.  Howe  had  always 
been  of  an  infirm  constitution,  which  he  taxed  to 
the  utmost  in  the  performance  of  many  duties;  and 
she  felt  that  the  fatigue  and  exposure  of  his  long 
winter  journeys  over  the  hills  and  rough  roads  were 
positively  injurious  to  him,  adding  a  cause  of  fatigue 
and  exposure  that  might  be  spared  him.  Then,  as 
children  multiplied  and  grew  older,  she  felt  the 
want  of  advantages  of  education  for  them,  and  of 
association  with  other  young  people  who  would  be 
suitable  companions  for  them.  The  idea  of  change 
dwelt  constantly  upon  her  mind,  and  more  and  more 
the  conviction  came  to  her  that  it  was  important  for 
all  of  them.  Many  plans  were  talked  of,  and  differ- 
ent places  discussed  ;  but  at  length,  in  1820,  a  pro- 
posal from  Mr.  Mills,  for  your  uncle  to  go  into  part- 
nership with  him  at  Northampton,  decided  them  to 
move  to  that  place  ;  and   I   think  it  was  always  sat- 


104  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

isfactory   to    both    of    them    that    they   made   the 
change." 

As  my  aunt's  letters  of  that  period  give  a  better 
idea  of  the  Worthington  life  than  any  record  we 
have  of  it,  a  few  of  her  letters  to  her  dearest  friend 
—  Miss  Eliza  Lee  Cabot,  afterwards  Mrs.  Follen  — 
come  naturally  to  mind  here. 

Mrs.  Howe  to  Miss  Cabot,  Worthington,  Oct.  31,  18 13. 

My  dear  Eliza, — -Your  letter  did  indeed  arrive 
to  welcome  me  in  Worthington,  and  I  felt  much 
gratified  at  the  reception  of  it.  I  believe  our  cor- 
respondence has  never  been  suspended  so  long 
since  the  commencement  of  it ;  and  I  hope  it  never 
may  be  again,  but  from  the  same  agreeable  reason 
that  we  have  been  able  to  make  a  frequent  personal 
intercourse  a  substitute  for  it :  but  this  is  a  thing 
which  we  can  scarcely  calculate  upon.  I  cannot 
hope  or  even  desire  to  leave  my  family  for  any 
great  length  of  time,  and,  though  I  do  depend  on 
seeing  you  here,  it  cannot  be  often.  One  thing  you 
may  rest  assured,  that  no  change  in  circumstances 
or  situation  can  alienate  my  affection  ;  the  last  three 
weeks  has  confirmed  my  hope  that  I  should  find  my 
husband  the  kindest  and  best  of  friends,  but  I  still 
recollect,  with  feelings  the  most  lively  and  affection- 
ate, the  companions  of  those  early,  happy  days,  which 
are  never  to  return.  The  sensations  which  accom- 
panied my  separation  from  them  were  such  as  can 
never  be  described,  and  a  single  comment  upon  them 
would  be  useless  ;  suffice  it  to  say,  I  was  not  long 


MRS.  HOWE'S  WEDDING  JOURNEY'      105 

the  victim  of  them.  New  duties  offered  themselves 
to  my  recollection,  and  new  pleasures  promised  to 
repay  me  for  every  privation.  I  recovered  the  tone 
of  my  mind  sooner  than  I  expected,  and  even  the 
first  day  of  our  journey  was  not  without  hours  of 
social  communication ;  the  weather  was  cold,  and 
we  met  with  bad  travelling,  but  we  were  able  to 
pursue  the  route  we  had  marked  out,  and  visited 
Stafford,  Hartford,  New  Haven,  and  Litchfield.  At 
Litchfield  I  saw  the  Fosters  only  in  the  street  ; 
our  stay  there  was  short,  as  we  did  not  find  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Gould  at  home.  In  New  Haven  we  visited 
the  Cabinet  of  Minerals,  with  which  I  was  much 
delighted,  but  do  not  think  I  enjoyed  them  as  much 
as  you  would  have  done  ;  many  of  the  specimens 
are  extremely  curious,  and  some  of  them  very  beau- 
tiful. This  is  an  extraordinary  exhibition  of  natural 
productions,  because  most  of  these  things  are  con- 
cealed in  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  and  do  not,  like 
most  others,  introduce  themselves  to  our  acquaint- 
ance and  challenge  our  notice  ;  should  you  ever  go 
to  New  York  I  think  you  would  be  gratified  by 
staying  in  New  Haven  long  enough  to  take  a  more 
accurate  observation  of  them  than  we  were  able 
to.  New  Haven  is  a  very  pleasant  town;  I  do  not 
believe  there  is  one  of  its  size  equal  to  it  in  New 
England.  The  flatness  of  the  situation  would  re- 
mind you  of  Salem  ;  but  the  streets  are  more 
regular,  and  the  public  buildings  better  disposed 
of,  and  there  are  more  trees  than  I  ever  saw  in 
a  place  so  compact.  But  you  may  look  in  the 
"Gazetteer"    for  the   remainder  of   the  description, 


106  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

and  I  will  endeavor  to  tell  you  a  little  more  about 
myself,  or  rather  about  we.  Then,  after  stopping 
one  rainy  day  in  the  last  town  in  Connecticut,  in 
a  very  uninteresting  tavern,  we  spent  two  and  a 
half  in  making  the  tour  of  Berkshire  county,  where 
we  visited  some  interesting  friends  and  acquaint- 
ance, and  were  treated  with  much  hospitality  and 
attention,  particularly  by  the  Sedgwick  family  :  and 
I  assure  you,  Miss  Sedgwick  appears  incomparably 
more  engaging  in  her  own  house,  and  at  the  head 
of  her  own  family,  than  she  does  in  company  in 
Boston  ;  and  my  visit  was  the  more  gratifying  as  it 
raised  her  much  in  my  estimation.  Harry,  too, 
appeared  the  affectionate  brother  and  the  attentive 
friend,  by  far  the  finest  parts  I  ever  saw  him  per- 
form. We  reached  our  destination  on  Friday  noon, 
and  I  was  greeted  by  a  letter  from  Mary,  besides 
yours.  I  must  thank  you  again  for  writing  to  me 
at  such  a  moment,  as  it  convinces  me  you  will  not 
suffer  other  avocations  and  feelings  to  prevent  your 
communicating  yourself  to  me.  You  are  sur- 
rounded by  so  many  objects  in  which  I  have  been 
accustomed  to  interest  myself,  that  you  can  never 
want  subjects  for  a  letter,  independent  of  the 
resources  of  your  own  mind.  And  now  for  a  de- 
scription of  my  new  home.  These  blank  fields  and 
naked  woods,  I  am  told,  are  verdant  and  beautiful 
in  summer,  but  now  have  nothing  in  particular  to 
recommend  them,  and  so  I  do  not  look  at  them 
often.  The  house  we  are  to  inhabit  stands  on  one 
comer  of  two  roads  which  cross  each  other,  but 
not  near  enousrh  to  either  road  to  be  incommoded 


MRS.  HO  WE 'S  NE  W  HOME  1 07 

by  it,  or  to  look  ill ;  the  other  three  corners  are 
occupied  by  a  tavern,  a  store,  and  a  dwelling-house, 
and  this  is  the  most  considerable  settlement  in 
Worthington,  there  being  a  few  other  houses  in  the 
vicinity.  I  will  say  nothing  of  the  interior  of  the 
house,  except  that  it  has  a  very  pleasant  parlor  with 
southeast  and  southwest  windows  in  it,  which  give 
us  a  bountiful  portion  of  sun  (when  it  shines,  mark 
ye,  which  is  not  very  often) ;  and  in  this  parlor 
I  expect  to  pass  the  ensuing  six  months  almost 
exclusively  (except  when  I  am  asleep),  and  in  it 
I  calculate  to  keep  (besides  tables  and  chairs)  a 
work-box,  a  writing-desk,  and  sundry  books,  so  that 
I  may  have  employment  suitable  to  my  taste  and 
genius.  I  may  occasionally  make  a  peregrination 
into  the  kitchen  to  superintend  the  concerns  there. 
But  though  my  corporeal  frame  is  to  be  thus  limited, 
do  not  think  my  soaring  spirit  and  brilliant  imagi- 
nation will  confine  themselves  ;  on  the  contrary,  I 
expect  to  search  the  records  of  ages  long  past,  and 
to  fly  on  the  wings  of  fancy  into  regions  the  most 
remote,  and  perhaps  now  and  then  condescend  to 
use  the  same  agency  in  conveying  myself  to  your 
side  on  the  sofa,  where  I  picture  you  now  sur- 
rounded by  your  family.  Remember  me  to  them 
all ;  tell  Susan  I  shall  expect  she  will  now  and  then 
write  a  postscript  if  she  expects  any  good  advice 
from  me;  a  tiling  which  my  present  matronly  char- 
acter must  add  much  to  the  consequence  of. 

if  Sally  is  still  with  you,  present  my  best  wishes 
for  her  journey,  and  hopes  that  she  will  return  by 
the  way  of  Albany,   that   I  may  see  her.       Mary,   I 


108  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

never  forget ;  and  least  of  all,  you,  my  long  tried 
friend.  Yours,  &c, 

S.  L.  Howe. 

Mrs.  Howe  to  Miss  Cabot,  Worthington,  Dec.  31,  1S13. 

My  dear  Eliza, —  The  bundle  containing  the 
"Salmagundi"  extract,  books  and  notes  from  your- 
self and  Mary,  dated  in  October,  reached  here  in 
December  in  safety ;  and  for  Mary's  kindness  in 
copying  the  first  I  feel  much  indebted.  Tender 
her  my  thanks,  and  tell  her  it  shall  be  preserved 
with  care  for  her  sake  as  well  as  its  own,  and  that 
I  am  sincerely  obliged  for  her  kind  wishes,  and  hope 
I  shall  prove  worthy  the  fulfilment  of  them.  And 
as  for  your  ladyship,  I  cannot  help  believing  you 
have  practised  making  sweet  faces  in  the  looking- 
glass  yourself,  the  better  to  image  us  and  to  get 
yourself  in  readiness  in  case  you  should  find  per- 
sonal necessity  for  them  ;  but  I  will  not  waste  my 
paper,  for  I  despair  of  reforming  your  sauciness. 
"What's  bred  in  the  bone  cannot  be  beat  out  of 
the  flesh." 

I  have  received  a  letter  from  you,  dated  Nov.  16th, 
the  very  day  on  which  I  commenced  housekeeping; 
and  I  do  not  wish  you  to  follow  my  ill  example  in 
suffering  this  to  remain  as  long  unanswered  as  that 
has.  My  opportunities  for  writing  are  few, —  not 
that  I  am  much  hurried  by  business,  but  something 
or  other  always  steps  between  me  and  the  pen,  un- 
less I  make  a  previous  determination,  as  I  did  to-day, 
that  it  should  be  the  first  object  with  me.  My  suc- 
cess in  housekeeping,  in    most  respects,  equals  my 


MRS.  HO  WE  'S  LE  TTERS  1 09 

expectations.  I  have  been  too  much  accustomed  to 
exertion,  to  find  the  little  now  required  "a  weariness 
of  the  flesh  ;  "  and  as  to  my  success  in  managing  the 
children,  I  never  overrated  my  own  talents  in  that 
respect.  Although  I  could  always  perceive  an  abun- 
dance of  faults  in  the  management  of  others,  I  was 
sufficiently  aware  of  the  circumspection  necessary 
to  think  I  should  be  likely  to  fall  into  many  errors 
myself;  they  have  not  however  yet  done  anything 
very  wrong,  and  I  have  strong  hopes  that  with  Mr. 
Howe's  assistance  I  shall  be  able  to  make  them 
good  and  useful.  The  subject  of  their  education  is 
one  upon  which  I  do  not  spare  reflection,  and  hope 
I  shall  not  spare  any  attention  which  is  in  my  power. 
I  have  speculated  a  good  deal  on  this  subject  when  I 
had  no  personal  interest  in  it,  and  I  feel  sure  that 
much  may  be  done  by  careful  parents  for  their  chil- 
dren. But  after  all  is  done  which  human  foresight 
and  exertion  can  effect,  circumstances  will  occur 
(sometimes)  to  influence  the  character  of  the  child, 
over  which  the  parent  can  have  no  control.  This 
consideration  should  make  us  eagle-eyed  when  we 
survey  the  condition  of  our  children,  and  the  knowl- 
edge that  they  enjoy  the  protection  of  Him  that 
neither  "slumbereth  nor  sleepeth "  should  prevent 
undue  anxiety.  We  must  plant  and  water,  and  wait 
in  patience  and  hope  for  the  blessing  of  God  on  the 
increase.  I  spend  the  days  with  Nancy  Sumner  and 
the  children.  I  sew,  and  she  reads  aloud.  Mr. 
Howe  reads  to  us  in  the  evening,  and  we  on  the 
whole  are  rather  a  bookish  family  —  being  consider- 
ably excluded  from  "  the  pomps  and  vanities  of  this 


no  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

wicked  world,"  by  our  remote  situation.  Mrs.  Ly- 
man has  been  up  to  enlighten  us  by  her  counsel ; 
and  really,  my  dear  Eliza,  if  you  should  ever  change 
your  condition,  I  hope  you  will  not  neglect  to  apply 
for  a  page  or  two  of  advice  to  that  "  matron  sage," 
for  I  assure  you  she  understands  bringing  up  a  fam- 
ily much  better  than  you  or  I  do.  Raillery  apart  — 
her  visit  was  one  of  the  pleasantest  circumstances 
which  has  occurred  in  the  six  weeks  we  have  kept 
house.  At  this  season,  I  generally  review  the  past 
year  in  my  letter  to  you  ;  but  the  event  which  is 
most  important  to  me  is  one  we  have  often  dis- 
cussed, and  I  do  not  know  if  anything  remains  to 
be  said  upon  it.  I  am  perfectly  satisfied  that  I  have 
increased  my  means  of  happiness  and  usefulness : 
the  employment  of  those  means  will  be  my  future 
care,  and  God  grant  the  successful  use  of  them ! 
My  near  and  dear  friends  are  preserved  in  life  and 
health,  and  the  number  of  them  is  added  to  instead 
of  diminished.  I  consider  Mrs.  Metcalf's  friendship 
no  small  acquisition  ;  the  rectitude  of  her  principles 
and  ingenuousness  of  her  manners  and  conversation 
render  her  very  dear  to  all  her  friends.  She  prom- 
ised to  call  on  you  whenever  she  visited  Boston,  and 
I  dare  say  you  will  see  her  soon.  I  am  afraid  you 
have  found  my  shoes  a  troublesome  commission;  if 
they  are  done,  you  will  let  my  sister  Mary  have 
them,  and  I  think  it  probable  she  will  be  able  to 
send  them  to  me  before  the  spring. 

Remember  me  to  all  friends  in  your  circle.  I 
hope  that  Mrs.  Forbes  is  not  too  much  depressed  by 
the  absence   of   her   husband,   to   enjoy    something 


THE  WAR  EMBARGOES  m 

from  society.  I  should  delight  to  spend  an  evening 
with  you  all  at  your  house  or  your  sister's.  I  beg 
you  again  to  write  soon  and  tell  me  all  about  every- 
body. I  have  not  seen  the  poems  you  mention  in 
your  letter,  except  a  review  of  the  "Giaour,"  which 
had  a  few  extracts  that  pleased  me.  Mr.  Howe  is 
reading  "  Tacitus "  to  me ;  his  "  Annals  and  His- 
tory" (which  only  comprise  a  part  of  the  first  cen- 
tury after  the  Christian  Era)  are  elegantly  written, 
but  afford  a  most  melancholy  view  of  moral  corrup- 
tion, which  seems  the  more  mysterious  as  it  was  a 
period  remarkably  enlightened  by  literature.  You 
are  well  acquainted  with  the  history  of  this  age,  and 
I  do  not  believe  you  would  derive  much  pleasure 
from  the  perusal  of  "Tacitus." 

The  shades  of  night  are  coming  on,  and  I  can 
only  offer  my  best  regards  to  Susan  ;  tell  her  I  hope 
she  will  consider  the  increased  hardness  of  the 
times,  and  redouble  her  industry  and  economy.  To 
you  and  Mary  I  trust  no  such  caution  is  necessary. 
I  expect,  when  I  next  see  you,  that  you  will  have  on 
an  English  gown,  embroidered  with  darns  ;  for  my- 
self I  shall  have  on  the  homespun  which  Eliza  Rob- 
bins  prophesied.  When  tea,  coffee,  and  sugar  are 
exhausted,  I  hope  you  will  drink  milk  or  toast  and 
water  with  dignity  ;  and  as  for  me,  whatever  may 
happen  to  the  quality  of  my  food,  I  have  decided 
not  to  diminish  the  quantity.  Mr.  Howe  sends  love, 
and  would  give  a  shilling  to  see  you  at  any  time,  not- 
withstanding the  embargo. 

Yours  ever,  S.  L.   Howe. 


1 1 2  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MO THER 

My  Aunt  Howe's  life  at  Worthington  was  one  of 
constant  activity  and  industry,  and  both  these  quali- 
ties were  needed  to  keep  her  family  comfortable, 
with  close  economy.  The  housekeeping  of  that  day 
was  no  light  or  easy  matter,  when  all  the  garments 
of  a  family  must  be  spun  and  woven  in  the  house, 
all  the  candles  used  must  be  made  in  the  kitchen, 
all  the  hams  for  winter  use  cured  there.  With 
young  children  always  to  be  cared  for,  and  rarely 
one  efficient  servant,  it  was  necessary  for  her  to  rise 
early  and  sit  up  late,  to  accomplish  her  duties.  Late 
at  night  she  often  scattered  a  few  unstudied  notes 
to  dear  friends.  The  few  extracts  following  tell 
their  own  story.  In  the  first,  she  mentions  Dr. 
Bryant,  father  of  the  poet,  and  a  valued  friend :  — 

Mrs.  Howe,  February,  1814. 

Of  our  minister  I  cannot  tell  you  much,  because 
I  have  no  personal  acquaintance  with  him ;  of  his 
preaching  I  cannot  say  I  think  it  as  much  "  to  the 
use  of  edifying  "  as  some  I  have  formerly  heard,  by 
reason  that  the  preacher  does  not  write,  but  depends 
on  the  present  suggestions  of  his  mind,  or  an  indis- 
tinct recollection  of  former  thoughts ;  and  as  his 
genius  is  by  no  means  of  a  vivid  and  brilliant  class, 
his  discourses  are  often  extremely  dull  and  unsatis- 
factory. I  believe  he  is,  in  general,  liked  very  well 
by  his  parish;  and,  perhaps,  is  very  useful  among 
them,  as  their  general  characteristic  is  that  of  a 
sober-minded  and  religious  people.  They  are,  on 
the  whole,  rather  queer-looking  ;  and,  I  suspect  if 
you   were   to    see    such    a   collection   anywhere  but 


READING  LIFE  OF  NELSON  113 

in  the  house  of  God,  your  propensity  for  the  ridicu- 
lous would  be  amply  gratified.  There  is  no  physi- 
cian of  any  eminence  residing  in  this  place,  but  one 
in  a  neighboring  town  about  four  miles  from  this, 
who  is  highly  respectable  in  his  profession,  and  is, 
besides,  a  man  of  considerable  literature  and  science. 
He  is  a  friend  of  Mr.  Howe's,  and,  of  course,  an 
occasional  visitor  here.  And  I  believe  I  have  now 
mentioned  all  the  resources  of  our  immediate  vicin- 
ity, and  you  will  judge  that  they  are  not  such  as  to 
consume  much  of  our  time.  .  .  .  Have  you  ever  heard 
of  my  shoes  ?  And  have  you  seen  the  "  Bride  of 
Abydos  "  ?  Other  inquiries  I  leave  to  a  future  let- 
ter, and  tell  you,  for  the  fiftieth  time,  that  I  am  &c. 

Mrs.  Howe  to  Miss  Cabot,  1S14. 

We  have  been  reading  Southey's  "  Life  of 
Nelson,"  which  I  think  quite  an  interesting  biogra- 
phy ;  although  he  was  a  great  man,  and  a  man  of  an 
amiable  temper,  I  cannot  help  thinking  him  consid- 
erably deficient  in  moral  principle,  and  had  rather 
he  would  have  died  imploring  pardon  for  his  defects, 
than  thanking  God  he  had  done  his  duty  (it  is  hum- 
bling to  us,  poor  mortals,  that  even  the  heroes  of  our 
race  are  tarnished  with  great  faults).  The  British 
nation,  indeed  the  civilized  world,  owe  much  to  his 
exertions  in  having  checked  the  power  of  the  tyrant; 
and  it  would  be  ingratitude  for  any  individual  to 
deny  him  the  fame  he  so  ardently  desired  and  so 
well  deserved.  II is  memory  will  live  while  Great 
Britain  is  a  nation  ;  but  the  crown  of  glory,  "which 
fadeth    not,"    may  be  reserved  for  humbler  individ- 


114  RE  COLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MO  TLIER 

uals.  I  have  read  Mrs.  Grant's  "  Sketches  on  In- 
tellectual Education,"  which,  I  think,  has  many 
good,  though  not  many  new,  things  in  it ;  and  is 
calculated  to  be  of  use  to  those  who  have  not 
much  time  or  opportunity  to  refer  to  books  of  that 
kind,  or  much  ability  to  make  reflections  or  draw 
conclusions  for  themselves,  and  she  does  not  aim 
at  anything  more  elevated.  We  are  now  engaged 
in  Lee's  "  Memoirs  of  the  War  in  the  Southern  De- 
partment," but  have  not  read  enough  to  form  an 
opinion,  and  have  not  room  now  to  give  it  if  I 
had 

I  have  procured  "  Patronage,"  but  have  not  yet 
had  leisure  to  read  it ;  when  I  have  I  will  let  you 
know  my  opinion  of  it.  We  have  had  Madame 
D'Arb'ay's  new  work,  "The  Wanderer;"  and  I 
must  acknowledge  I  should  hardly  have  expected 
anything  so  tedious  and  indifferent  from  the  author 
of  "  Cecilia."  Indeed,  I  do  not  believe  any  one 
would  have  taxed  her  with  it  if  she  had  not  published 
it  as  hers.  I  hear  Lord  Byron  has  produced  another 
poem,  but  have  not  seen  it;  and  the  nursery  and  the 
kitchen  have  excluded  the  thought  of  poetry  of  late, 
if  they  have  not  destroyed  the  relish  for  it.  .  .  . 

The  present  situation  of  the  country  has  deprived 
Mr.  Howe  of  law-business  almost  entirely,  so  that 
he  is  compelled  to  turn  his  attention  to  other  things  ; 
and  his  sheep  are  no  longer  an  amusement  but  a 
serious  occupation,  as  he  has  taken  them  under  his 
more  immediate  care.  It  may  be  a  very  romantic 
thing  to  live  upon  these  mountains  with  a  shepherd- 
swain,  but  as  all   our  fleeces  are  not   golden,  your 


ECONOMY  AND  POETRY  115 

"hints  on  economy"  might  be  of  use  to  us,  if  we 
did  not  understand  the  subject  at  least  as  well  as 
you  can  be  supposed  to.  I  can  assure  you  that 
my  children  are  now  warmly  clad  in  the  fleeces 
our  sheep  wore  last  winter ;  and,  though  a  home- 
spun frock  on  the  baby  scandalized  his  Aunt  Cath- 
erine, he  wears  one  every  day  and  finds  no  fault 
with  it.  .  .  . 

My  employments  of  late  have  been  needle-work 
and  a  little  reading.  Mr.  Howe  has  read  some  his- 
tory to  us  this  winter,  and  we  have  had  several  new 
poems.  We  were  most  pleased  with  "  Roderic  the 
Goth  "  ;  I  very  much  prefer  it  to  any  former  poem  of 
Southey's  and  think  it  more  calculated  to  be  gener- 
ally interesting.  Indeed,  I  doubt  if  the  present  age 
has  produced  any  poem  as  likely  to  procure  lasting 
fame  to  its  author ;  though  I  am  rather  adventurous 
in  this  conclusion,  as  I  have  not  heard  if  it  is  well 
or  ill-received  by  those  who  are  connoisseurs  in 
poetry.  I  only  know  that  I  have  seldom  read  a 
poem  of  that  length  which  preserved  the  interest  so 
well.  The  "  Queen's  Wake  "  is  an  interesting  thine: 
to  me,  because  I  love  the  Scotch  poetry  from  habit 
as  well  as  from  its  own  merit,  it  having  been  a  favor- 
ite amusement  of  my  youth  ;  and  though  I  do  not 
think  the  Scotch  shepherd  has  the  whole  mantle 
of  Burns,  I  think  he  has  caught  a  fragment  of  it 
to  clothe  his  "Witch  of  Fife"  in,  and  the  whole 
production  may  be  considered  as  having  a  good 
portion  of  variety,  ingenuity,  and  taste,  especially 
when  we  consider  it  as  the  production  of  an  un- 
lettered man. 


n6  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

Worthington,  Nov.  29,  1S16. 

I  never  have  an  opportunity  to  write  in  the  day 
time,  without  the  interruption  of  the  children  ;  and 
I  do  not  like  to  break  up  our  little  circle  in  the 
evening  with  getting  out  the  desk,  as  that  is  the 
time  my  husband  appropriates  to  me. 

We  have  been  engaged  lately  in  reading  travels 
in  various  countries.  We  have  read  Simonde's 
"Travels  in  England,"  and  Eustace's  "Tour  in 
Italy;"  and  are  now  engaged  in  Ali  Bey's  "Travels 
in  Africa,  including  a  Pilgrimage  to  Mecca."  It  is 
more  novel  in  point  of  fact  though  in  other  respects 
inferior  to  the  others.  I  dare  say  you  have  read 
both  Simonde  and  Eustace,  as  they  have  been  pub- 
lished some  months.  The  former  I  think  remarka- 
ably  interesting  ;  the  latter  is  a  very  literary  and 
somewhat  pedantic  work,  but  has  claims  to  the 
attention  of  reading  people  as  an  entertaining  and 
instructive  book. 

I  believe  I  informed  you  in  my  last  that  we  had 
been  travelling  in  various  countries,  and  we  pursued 
our  course  through  Africa,  Persia,  and  Abyssinia ; 
since  which,  Mr.  Howe  has  been  engaged  in 
Erskine's  "  Speeches."  He  is  very  much  interested 
in  them,  and  so  are  we  in  all  those  that  are  on 
subjects  any  way  connected  with  our  knowledge  or 
experience. 

I  am  reading  "Virgil"  aloud  to  the  girls  for  after- 
noon recreation.  Perhaps  it  would  be  well  to  inform 
you  that  Emma  Forbes  is  one  of  my  girls  now,  as 
I  think  she  had  not  arrived  when  I  last  wrote  ;  she 
has  a  great  fund  of  cheerfulness  and  vivacity,  and 
adds  much  to  the  pleasure  of  our  domestic  circle. 


LOOKING  FORWARD  TO  "ROB  ROY"        117 

I  feel  a  sort  of  dread  of  reviewing  the  past  year, 
lest  the  memory  of  what  I  have  lost  should  make  me 
ungrateful  for  what  I  possess  ;  and  yet  avoiding  to 
mention  the  death  of  my  child  does  not  exclude  the 
thought:  it  mingles  itself  with  almost  every  other. 
I  hope  I  have  made  a  right  improvement  of  it ;  at 
least  it  has  chastened  human  hopes  and  brought 
another  and  a  better  world  nearer  to  me  than  any 
former  event  of  my  life.  .  .  . 

Of  her  young  sister  Catherine,  she  writes : 
"Though  a  creature  of  no  pretence  at  all,  and  not 
in  the  least  calculated  for  display,  she  has  all  the 
rudiments  of  a  solid,  useful  character, —  perfect  in- 
tegrity, a  discerning  mind,  and  a  feeling  heart.  .  .  . 
Catherine  has  been  with  me  for  ten  weeks,  but  has 
gone  now.  I  feel  her  loss  a  good  deal ;  she  read  to 
me  while  she  was  here, —  some  in  books  I  had  read 
before,  and  some  new  ones.  Miss  Hamilton's  '  Popu- 
lar Essays'  —  a  book  I  enjoyed  much,  although 
there  is  some  repetition  in  it  —  has  sterling  merit, 
and,  like  the  spelling-books,  '  is  adapted  to  the 
meanest  capacities,'  although  it  treats  of  the  human 
heart  and  mind.  We  have  lately  been  reading 
Paley's  'Moral  Philosophy,'  and -I  am  much  satis- 
fied with  it  as  a  clear  and  enlightened  view  of  human 
duty  drawn  from  the  principles  of  religion  and  rea- 
son. I  am  daily  expecting  to  get  '  Rob  Roy,'  with 
some  interest,  as  the  former  productions  of  this  au- 
thor have  excited  more  of  the  pleasure  I  used  to 
have  in  fictitious  works  than  any  other  I  have  read 
these    ten    years, —  not   even    Miss  Edgeworth's   ex- 


n8  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

cepted, —  which  maybe  a  want  of  judgment  in  me, 
but  surely  not  a  want  of  taste.  I  should  really  like 
to  tell  you  some  news,  but,  alas !  I  must  draw  on  my 
imagination  if  I  did.  I  know  of  no  event  of  mo- 
ment since  I  last  wrote,  except  that  I  have  worked  a 
hearth-rug,  and  we  have  killed  a  remarkable  large 
ox, —  big  enough  to  put  in  the  newspaper  if  we  had 
felt  inclined." 

WORTHINGTON,  l8lS. 

You  must  write  me  again  as  soon  as  you  have 
leisure,  and  tell  me  how  you  are,  and  how  Susan  is, 
and  what  you  do  for  a  minister.  The  loss  of  Mr. 
Thacher  must  be  great ;  he  was  "  weaned  from 
earth "  by  a  course  of  suffering,  and,  I  have  no 
doubt,  experiences  the  joys  of  a  purified  spirit. 
Reasoning  upon  death  in  a  Christian  manner,  and 
experiencing  it  so  frequently  among  our  immediate 
acquaintance,  brings  it  home  so  familiarly  as  to 
diminish  the  natural  dread  of  it  very  much, —  at 
least,  this  is  its  effect  on  me.  It  seems  as  if  every 
acquaintance  who  passed  before  me  smoothed  "  the 
path  to  immortality,"  and  rendered  continuance  here 
less  desirable  ;  and  yet  I  have  a  great  deal  to  love 
and  to  live  for  here.,  and  many  that  I  could  not  relin- 
quish with  that  filial  submission  which  we  should 
all  have  to  the  decrees  of  our  Heavenly  Parent, — 
which  is  a  principle  highly  capable  of  cultivation, 
if  we  keep  the  providence  of  Almighty  God  con- 
stantly in  view,  and  remember  that  in  the  heavenly 
heritage  "  there  is  no  more  pain,  neither  sorrow  nor 
crying." 


THE  RICHES  OE  CONTENT  119 

Our  family  are  all  well,  Mr.  Howe  uncommonly 
so  ;  and  we  have  a  great  deal  to  be  thankful  for,  in 
the  way  of  domestic  comfort  and  accommodation. 
More  money  might  add  to  elegance  and  the  pleas- 
ures of  taste,  but  I  do  not  know  that  it  would  much 
to  convenience  and  real  enjoyment.  I  have  always 
felt  rather  inclined  to  complain  of  the  coldness  and 
backwardness  of  this  climate,  but  the  present  season 
is  unusually  luxuriant.  I  have  roses  and  strawber- 
ries in  abundance.  I  wish  you  were  here  to  have 
some  of  them  ;  but  the  bounty  of  Nature  is  diffused 
everywhere,  and  you  are  in  the  midst  of  it,  and  in 
the  way  of  your  duty  likewise. 

In  another  letter  she  speaks  happily  of  her  back 
parlor  with  "painted  floor"  and  "whitewashed 
wall."  No  one  could  ever  have  uttered  the  senti- 
ment "  My  mind  to  me  a  kingdom  is,"  more  truth- 
fully than  she  might  have  done. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

MY  mother's  letters  to  my  cousin,  Emma  Forbes, 
and  to  my  cousin,  Abby  Lyman  (who  after- 
wards married  Mr.  William  Greene,  of  Cincinnati), 
form  the  only  consecutive  picture  I  have  of  her  life 
in  Northampton,  from  the  year  1815  to  the  year 
1 840. 

How  little  did  they  dream  that  any  of  their  letters 
would  be  preserved  beyond  the  immediate  hour ! 
And  yet  these  careless,  unstudied  missives  possess  a 
value  for  descendants  which  they  could  not  have  for 
a  wider  public.  To  both  these  young  persons  she 
always  wrote  rather  in  the  tone  of  a  Mentor;  and  it 
is  amusing  to  hear  her,  long  before  she  reached  the 
age  of  thirty,  speaking  of  "My  old  heart  ;"  or  "  My 
old  age."  But,  perhaps,  the  fact  of  taking  the  posi- 
tion of  wife  to  a  man  of  my  father's  age  and  char- 
acter, and  of  guide  to  so  many  young  persons,  while 
still  young  herself,  gave  her  that  constant  feeling  of 
care  and  responsibility  that  makes  one  feel  old  in 
some  ways. 

The  two  events  of  her  life  which  gave  special 
cause  for  gratitude,  during  the  years  in  which  these 
letters  were  written,  were  the  birth  of  her  daughter, 
Anne  Jean,  in  July,  181 5,  and  of  her  second  son, 
Edward     Hutchinson     Robbins,     February,       18 19. 


NORTHAMPTON  IN  JUNE,  1817  121 

Anne  Jean  was  baptized  with  her  mother's  name ; 
but  as  she  grew  up  she  preferred  to  spell  her  name 
Annie,  and  all  her  family  and  friends  in  addressing 
her  dropped  the  Jean,  except  her  mother,  to  whom 
the  whole  name  was  dear  from  association  ;  and  who 
had,  through  life,  the  habit  of  lengthening,  rather 
than  shortening,  names.  Edward  was  baptized  with 
the  name  of  his  maternal  grandfather. 

To  Miss  Emma  Forbes,  June  1,  1817. 

We  were  very  sorry  that  Eliza  could  not  be  per- 
mitted to  remain  longer  with  us,  as  it  was  the  first 
time  she  was  ever  disposed  to  make  us  a  visit.  She 
came  back  from  Worthington  wonderfully  pleased 
with  Northampton,  and  with  us  and  our  children  ; 
and  went  so  far  as  to  call  Joseph  a  very  good  boy, 
and  Annie  the  loveliest  child  that  ever  was  seen,  and 
bestowed  great  encomiums  on  Mary  and  Jane ;  and  I 
think,  if  she  had  stayed,  we  should  have  succeeded 
in  making  her  tolerably  happy  during  the  summer. 
Oh,  Emma,  I  wish  you  were  here  now  !  The  country 
never  looked  more  charming,  the  verdure  was  never 
more  perfect,  and  I  could  not  help  feeling  a  desire 
that  you,  and,  indeed,  everybody  else  that  sees  this 
place  at  all,  should  see  it  in  its  most  beautiful  state. 
But,  after  all,  the  beauties  of  Milton  Hill  far  out-vie 
any  thing  the  interior  can  boast ;  yet  they  are  both 
perfect  of  their  kind. 

The  short  visit  I  had  from  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Inches 
and  sisters  did  me  some  good,  though  I  could  not 
help  lamenting  that  it  was  so  short  ;  for  it  did  not 
give  me  an  opportunity  of  proving  to  them  how  glad 


122  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

I  was  to  see  them.  Owing  to  the  painting  inside  the 
house  and  out,  we  were  not  quite  in  our  usual  order ; 
but  we  did  not  mind  that,  and,  I  dare  say,  it  did  not 
annoy  them.  I  am  expecting  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Barnard 
with  the  boys  from  Greenfield  to-morrow ;  they  will 
go  from  here  to  New  York,  and  from  there  to  Provi- 
dence by  water,  and,  I  suppose,  will  reach  Boston 
about  the  tenth  of  this  month. 

M.  D.  has  been  spending  some  time  with  me,  and 
is  still  here.  B.  C.  has  recovered  so  that  she  rides 
out.  Things  in  general  here  remain  in  statu  quo. 
Except  Sunday  reading,  I  have  attended  to  nothing 
since  you  left  here  but  Miss  Hamilton's  "Popular 
Essays,"  and  the  last  number  of  the  "  North  Ameri- 
can Review," — -the  latter  of  which  I  have  not  taste 
to  admire  or  to  feel  improved  by.  Miss  Hamilton's 
last  work  I  do  not  see  a  fault  in,  neither  as  it  regards 
religion,  morality,  or  perspicuity  of  style.  I  hope 
you  will  read  it,  though  I  think  it  particularly  de- 
signed for  mothers  ;  still,  it  will  be  instructive  to  all. 
It  appears  to  me  to  be  a  sequel  to  her  "  Essays  on 
Education  ;"  or,  rather,  an  amplification  of  the  same 
ideas  she  has  advanced  there.  The  human  mind, 
with  all  its  original  qualities  and  capabilities,  together 
with  its  necessities,  is  the  field  she  has  chosen  to 
labor  in  (in  the  abstract).  She  has  analyzed  it 
with  the  most  minute  discrimination  of  its  differ- 
ent qualities,  and  their  bearing  on  one  another.  I 
think  it  requires  a  more  philosophical  head  than 
mine  to  enjoy  it  very  much,  though  it  is  written 
in  such  a  style  that  even  I  could  understand  with 
perfect  ease. 


SOCIAL  AND  HOME  DUTIES  123 

We  have  had  several  parties  lately  on  M.  D.'s 
account,  and  I  have  felt  obliged  to  go,  though  you 
know  with  how  much  reluctance  I  have  made  the 
sacrifice, —  spending  my  time  with  people  whom  I 
am  never  with,  without  thinking,  as  Dean  Swift  did, — 

"  Those  with  whom  I  now  converse 
Without  a  tear  could  tend  my  hearse  ;  " 

and  you  know  that  no  pleasurable  intercourse  can 
exist  with  such  a  conviction.  I  wish,  if  you  get  it, 
you  would  read  a  printed  sermon  of  Dr.  Bancroft's 
on  the  fourth  commandment,  which,  though  it  has 
been  most  severely  reviewed  in  the  "  Panoplist,"  I 
think  very  excellent.  Perhaps  you  saw  it  when  you 
were  in  Worcester. 

Mary  and  Jane  are  getting  along  very  fast  on  the 
piano,  and  Betsy  Sumner  behaves  with  great  pro- 
priety ;  is  delighted  with  the  notice  she  receives,  and 
admires  Northampton,  and  does  not  trouble  me  at 
all  ;  but,  I  think,  as  she  does  not  have  but  five 
scholars,  she  will  have  to  leave  us  at  the  end  of  the 
quarter.  She  is  really  a  very  excellent  instructor, 
and  I  think  can  advance  a  child  in  one  quarter  as 
much  as  one  of  the  celebrated  instructors  would  in 
six  months,  because  she  pays  a  great  deal  more  atten- 
tion to  them  than  any  master  that  I  have  seen. 

You  asked  me  in  one  of  your  letters  about  French. 
My  only  exercise  now  is  hearing  Mary  conjugate  a 
verb  every  day,  and  assisting  her  in  translating  a 
couple  of  pages  in  "Mother  Goose."  I  spent  one 
week  in  working  a  breadth  of  ruffle  which  washed 
almost   to   pieces   as  soon   as  it  was  done;  which  I 


124  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

regretted   exceedingly,  for  it  proved  me  a  fool  for 
working  on  such  poor  muslin. 

Mrs.  Howe  to  Miss  Forbes,  Worthington,  June  15,  1818. 

My  dear  Emma, —  A  great  while  ago  I  had  a  let- 
ter from  you,  and  I  know  it  is  time  I  thanked  you 
for  it.  C.  has  carried  you  all  the  intelligence  from 
these  parts,  and  I  would  not-  write  by  her  on  that 
account ;  for  I  know  she  can  talk  to  you,  though  she 
does  not  condescend  to  be  very  liberal  of  her  descrip- 
tive talents.  Old  General  Lincoln  told  Mr.  Lovell 
that  he  must  have  a  very  large  stock  of  discretion 
on  hand,  for  he  never  knew  him  to  make  use  of  any: 
on  that  plan  C.  must  have  a  fund  of  anecdote  and 
remark  which  you  and  I  can  hardly  conceive  of, 
who  have  lived  every  day  from  hand  to  mouth,  and 
expended  each  acquisition  as  soon  as  it  was  ob- 
tained. To  return  to  my  subject :  she  undoubtedly 
told  you  that  we  Worthingtonians,  were  very  well 
and  very  busy,  as  is  usual  with  us.  Eleanor  is  mak- 
ing butter,  &c,  and  I  am  tending  baby,  &c, —  though 
she  now  has  an  elegant  red  and  green  wagon  that 
relieves  my  weary  arms  occasionally ;  and  I  have 
hopes  will  walk  erect  one  of  these  days,  though  she 
now  goes  upon  all-fours  very  nimbly,  though  not 
very  conveniently. 

I  have  read  "  Rob  Roy."  It  does  not  come  near 
"  Old  Mortality ; "  and  yet  I  like  the  strange  girl, 
Die  ;  but  I  hope  no  living  heroine  will  attempt  to 
imitate  her,  for  it  would  not  do  second-hand  at  all. 
I  have  read  Paley's  "Moral  Philosophy"  this  spring; 
it  is  a  charming  book,  and  I  hope  you  will  read  it 


MRS.  HOWE  ON  THE  "REVIEWS"  125 

the  first  opportunity.  We  have  nothing  new  but 
the  periodical  publications.  The  "  New  York  Re- 
view" is  mere  patch-work,  made  up  of  little  shreds 
and  parings  of  other  things  ;  the  "  Quarterly "  is 
horribly  bigoted  about  every  thing,  and  the  Scotch 
reviewers  use  a  scythe  and  sickle  all  the  time.  I 
think  I  like  the  spirit  of  the  "  North  American " 
best  of  all  (you  see  I  have  a  Yankee  heart).  I  do 
not  compare  its  talents  with  the  transatlantic  books  ; 
I  know  the  old  trees  have  deep  roots  and  high 
branches,  but  their  flowers  and  fruit  are  not  always 
sweetest. 

I  was  just  as  old  as  you  are  now,  the  season  I  left 
Milton  Hill, —  in  my  seventeenth  year.  I  can  never 
forget  the  last  summer  I  passed  there.  I  was  then 
a  great  deal  with  Eliza  Cabot :  we  used  to  walk  very 
frequently  up  and  down  on  the  bank  opposite  your 
house  (besides  many  other  walks)  ;  and  I  can  almost 
see  the  full  moon  as  it  used  to  rise  out  of  the  ocean. 
I  have  never  been  in  Milton  at  this  pride  of  the  year 
for  five  summers  ;  but  your  sun  shines  on  the  grave 
of  my  ancestors,  and  gilds  the  spire  where  I  first 
learned  to  worship  God. 

"  The  last  ray  of  feeling  and  hope  must  depart, 
Ere  the  bloom  from  those  valleys  can  fade  from  my  heart." 

President  Kirkland,  in  his  charming  character  of  Mr. 
Thacher,  says  :  "  T here  is  a  path  to  immortality 
from  every  region."  How  consoling  the  idea,  when 
time  and  accident  has  removed  us  from  the  scenes 
rendered  clear  by  a  thousand  interesting  associations  ! 
I  look  around  me,  and  behold  everv  thing  verdant 


126  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

and  luxuriant,  and  own  that  this  is  a  very  pleasant 
place.  I  wish  you  could  come  here  at  this  season,  and 
see  my  great  snowballs,  and  how  nicely  my  rhubarb 
flourishes,  and  eat  some  of  the  pies.  A  charming 
specimen  of  the  bathos !  I  am  looking  for  the 
Misses  Cabot  to-morrow  or  next  day ;  but  they  will 
not  stay  long,  which  disappoints  me  some,  as  I  had 
hoped  E.  would  make  something  of  a  Visit  when  she 
actually  arrived  after  so  long  a  time. 

Now  have  charity,  Emma,  and  write  me  a  long 
letter  soon,  and  tell  me  how  everybody  behaves ;  as 
I  really  am  afraid  I  shall  forget  how  myself,  if  I 
have    not    somebody   to   put   me  in  mind :    it's  only 

once  a  year  I   go  anywhere  but   to   N ,    and  I 

don't  want  to  behave  as  they  do,  that  is  the  gener- 
ality of  them, —  because  they  have  no  social  feeling, 
no  regard  for  each  other,  and  no  pursuits  in  com- 
mon ;  "among  unequals,  what  society!"  I  cannot 
find  so  much  fault  as  this  even  with  my  unlettered 
neighbors  ;  they  have  children,  and  cows,  wool,  and 
flax, —  so  have  I;  these  and  the  gardens  and  the 
weather  make  harmless  subjects  of  conversation 
when  we  meet,  and  if  we  part  without  having  com- 
municated or  received  information,  we  part  without 
envy  and  ill-will. 

My  paper  warns  me,  and  I  bid  you  farewell. 
Remember  me  to  your  parents,  and  greet  friends 
for  me  if  you  should  see  any  of  mine  soon.  I  take 
it  for  granted  I  have  a  great  many  you  see. 


"THE  TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD"  127 

Mrs.  Lyman  to  Miss  Forbes,  Aug.  10  [1818?]. 

My  dear  Emma, —  I  had  the  pleasure  to  hear,  by 
mamma's  letter,  that  you  had  a  little  sister,  and  that 
your  mother  was  nicely.  Every  increase  of  our 
earthly  ties  brings  with  it  new  duties,  and  I  dare  say 
the  circumstance  has  occupied  much  of  your  time 
and  your  reflections  since  it  occurred. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  define  what  has  occupied 
my  time  for  the  last  three  months.  I  have  been 
engrossed  by  such  an  endless  variety,  and  the  suc- 
cession has  been  too  rapid  for  me  to  have  retained 
any  distinct  impression  as  to  what  has  predominated. 
I  do  not  know  how  profitable  it  may  have  been  to 
me,  but  I  am  sure  I  have  passed  as  pleasant  a  sum- 
mer (thus  far)  as  I  ever  recollect  to  have  done  in  my 
life  ;  I  have  seen  a  great  many  friends  and  acquaint- 
ance that  it  gives  me  pleasure  to  see,  and  none  that 
are  disagreeable  to  me.  It  is  unnecessary  for  me  to 
say  that  I  am  surrounded  by  an  uncommon  share  of 
domestic  comforts  and  but  few  trials  ;  for  you  have 
been  here  and  have  seen,  and  know  for  yourself  all 
about  it.  But  this  I  can  say  truly,  that  I  try  to  be 
sensible  of  the  blessings  that  have  been  bestowed  on 
me,  to  be  grateful  for  them,  and  to  enjoy  them. 

I  have  read  "  The  Tales  of  my  Landlord,"  and 
am  much  pleased  with  it,  and  can  subscribe  to  all 
the  "North  American  Review"  has  said  of  it,  except 
that  it  is  equal  to  "Guy  Mannering ; "  and  that  I 
cannot  agree  to.  The  Black  Dwarf  is  too  much  like 
the  other  extraordinary  characters  of  the  same 
author  to  bear  the  stamp  of  originality,  which  con- 
stitutes one  of  the  greatest  charms  of  Guy  ;  and  the 


128  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

case  is  the  same  in  regard  to  Balfour,  and  Old  Mor- 
tality. But  still  I  think  it  delightful,  because  it 
gives  such  an  interesting  account  of  the  sufferings 
produced  by  the  religious  contentions  of  the  high 
revolutionary  times  of  which  it  treats,  which  corre- 
sponds perfectly  to  the  historical  accounts  we  have 
read;  and  I  think  Calvinistical  cant  is  exceedingly 
well  burlesqued  in  it.  The  French  ardor  has  not 
subsided  at  all  ;  the  children  hardly  speak  in  any 
other  language ;  even  Joseph  has  caught  the  spirit, 
and  is  to  go  to  Miss  Clark  next  quarter,  and  study 
"  La  Syllabaire  Francaise."  You  would  be  surprised 
to  hear  how  well  he  reads  and  spells  English. 

Louisa  left  us  a  fortnight  ago.  I  have  not  heard 
from  her  yet,  but  hope  soon  to  learn  that  she  has 
reached  the  Valley  of  Wyoming  in  safety  ;  though 
I  am  sure  her  enjoyment  will  not  be  heightened  by 
any  of  those  poetical  recollections  which  might 
accompany  some  of  the  dear  lovers  of  Campbell. 
We  had  a  very  affecting  parting.  L.  was  entirely 
overcome  by  the  idea  of  leaving  forever  the  scene 
of  her  nativity,  and  appeared  to  feel  all  that  grati- 
tude could  inspire  toward  us  all. 

In  the  letter  to  Cousin  Emma,  dated  August  10,  is 
an  allusion  to  the  departure  of  "Louisa"  to  the 
valley  of  Wyoming.  The  story  of  Louisa  is  this  : 
The  tavern  nearest  our  house,  and  afterwards  known 
as  Warner's  tavern,  was  kept  for  a  time  by  a  man 
and  his  wife  who  had  only  one  child,  a  little  girl. 
About  the  year  1818,  both  were  attacked  with 
fever,  and   died  within    a   few  days    of   each  other. 


THE  STORY  OF  LOUISA  129 

It  seemed  only  a  simple  and  natural  act  for  my 
mother  to  walk  into  the  deserted  house,  and  take 
home  the  little  Louisa  to  her  own  well-filled  nurs- 
ery. How  long  she  remained  before  relatives  were 
found  to  claim  her,  I  do  not  know ;  but  am  under 
the  impression  it  was  more  than  a  year.  I  never 
should  have  known  any  thing  about  it,  but  for  the 
following  circumstance :  When  I  was  more  than 
twenty  years  old,  I  sat  one  day  near  the  window 
(my  mother  and  father  being  out),  when  an  old-fash- 
ioned chaise  stopped  at  the  door,  and  a  pale  and 
thin  lady  accompanied  by  her  husband,  a  Presby- 
terian minister,  alighted  from  it.  She  introduced 
herself  as  Mrs  F.,  and  asked  if  Judge  and  Mrs. 
Lyman  were  at  home.  I  told  her  they  were  out, 
but  invited  her  to  stop,  as  they  would  return  in  an 
hour.  So  they  came  into  the  house.  When  my 
mother  came  home,  she  did  not  at  once  recognize 
her.  "Do  you  not  remember  Louisa?"  said  the 
lady-  A  warm  embrace  was  the  only  answer.  And 
then  followed  a  delightful  evening;  Louisa  wishing 
to  revisit  every  room  in  the  house,  and  show  them 
all  to  her  husband,  and  call  up  a  hundred  memories 
of  her  childhood.  She  told  my  mother  of  all  the 
years  since  they  parted ;  of  her  marriage ;  of  the 
births  and  deaths  of  children  ;  and  her  own  failing 
health.  And  how,  when  her  husband  had  wished 
to  take  her  a  journey,  from  far  away  Pennsylvania, 
she  had  begged  him  to  bring  her  to  see  the  graves 
of  her  parents,  and  the  home  of  the  kind  people  who 
had  received  her,  when  her  young  heart  was  so  sad, 
and  where   she   had   been   so   happy.      So   they    had 


130  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

come ;  and  after  staying  two  days,  they  left  us, 
cheered  and  warmed  with  the  heartfelt  pleasure  both 
my  father  and  mother  felt  in  this  meeting,  which 
was  the  last  on  earth. 

To  Miss  Forbes,  Sept.  17  [1818  ?  ]. 

Yesterday  I  had  the  court  to  dine,  with  their 
ladies,  making  twenty  in  all,  and  had  just  such  a 
time  as  when  the  governor  dined  here,  except  that 
I  had  not  a  tipsy  cook ;  and  on  that  account  there 
was  no  difficulty.  I  am  very  much  pleased  with 
Mrs.  Judge  Thacher,  and  Mrs.  Morton,  who  is  cer- 
tainly a  very  interesting  woman.  She  gave  me  the 
private  history  of  Lord  and  Lady  Byron,  which  you 
may  suppose  was  very  interesting  to  me. 

I  have  written  this  in  such  a  hurry  that  I  hardly 
know  what  I  have  been  about,  and  beg  you  to  over- 
look all  errors,  and  remember  it  is  court-week,  and 
missionary-week.  Dr.  Morse  is  staying  here,  and 
a  number  of  things  to  ruffle  a  poor  body,  and  com- 
pany to  dinner  every  day  this  week,  and  Hannah 
most  dead  with  getting  dinner  for  the  court,  and 
myself  too. 

Jan.  23,  1820. —  I  believe  some  of  the  "North 
American  "  reviewers  to  be  under  a  mistake,  in  en- 
deavoring to  lessen  the  reputation  of  those  Ameri- 
cans who  have  been  considered  as  our  great  men, 
and  who  have  sustained  their  country  by  the  exer- 
cise of  their  moral  and  physical  force.  More  than 
a  year  ago,  much  pains  was  taken  to  prove  that  Dr. 
Franklin  was  a  very  small  character,  who  had  had 
a  false  reputation  ;  and  now  Mr.  P.   M.,  in  his  ardor 


"NORTH  AMERICAN"  DEPRECIATION      131 

to  add  an  indifferent  review  to  a  very  indifferent 
publication,  has  brought  General  Greene's  character 
down  to  the  level  of  a  very  ordinary  standard.  And 
I  think  if  they  continue  this  scheme,  and  the  work 
should  be  widely  diffused  in  foreign  countries,  our 
national  character  will  not  stand  very  high  abroad, 
any  more  than  at  homo.  But  after  all,  I  must  say  I 
have  been  much  edified  and  pleased  with  the  last 
number,  and  shall  send  it  to  Sam  with  a  good  deal 
of  reluctance;  who,  by  the  way,  I  wish  you  would 
pay  some  attention  to,  in  the  writing  way.  He  com- 
plains sadly  that  nobody  writes  to  him. 

Feb.  21,  1 82 1. —  My  dear  Emma, —  I  have  lately 
gone  through  a  good  many  domestic  troubles,  such 
as  entirely  engross  the  mind  ;  and  disqualify  it  for 
any  of  those  excursions  into  the  regions  of  romance 
or  fancy  which  enable  people  to  make  agreeable 
letters  out  of  poor  materials.  This,  however,  is 
supposing  a  case  which  does  not  exist,  for  it  implies 
that  mine  is  in  the  habit  of  making  such  excursions  ; 
and,  perhaps,  no  person's  was  ever  less  given  to 
anything  of  the  kind.  The  dull  realities  of  life  have 
taken  an  irresistible  possession  there,  and  nothing 
can  invade  their  dominion  ;  the  power  of  habit  has 
made  strong  their  wall  of  defence,  and  necessity  is 
their  sentinel.  And  should  it  not  be  so,  my  dear 
Emma?  But  I  can  remember  when  I  was  very  in- 
tolerant (that  is,  when  I  was  about  your  age)  to 
those  professional  wives  and  mothers  who  talked 
and  thought  of  nothing  but  their  household  con- 
cerns, such  as  children,  servants,  and  the  like.  But 
it   must    be    so  ;    what    most    concerns    us   to    think 


I32  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

about  is  what  we  shall  and  must  give  our  principal 
attention  to.  The  clergy  must  talk  on  theology,  the 
lawyers  will  be  engrossed  by  legal  subjects,  and  the 
physicians  in  like  manner  of  what  relates  to  their 
profession  ;  and  women  must  be  borne  with,  if  they 
talk,  and  even  write,  about  their  household  affairs: 
but  I  pity  those  that  have  no  similar  interests,  who 
have  to  hear  them. 

I  suppose  you  have  read  Mr.  Edgeworth's  life  ; 
that  interested  me,  inasmuch  as  it  made  me  person- 
ally acquainted  with  a  man  to  whom  I  am  individu- 
ally much  indebted,  as  well  as  mankind  in  general. 
Before  I  read  his  life,  I  had  viewed  him  only  at 
a  distance  ;  and,  with  all  the  defects  of  the  memoir, 
it  must  be  acknowledged  that  it  brings  you  to  a 
very  familiar  acquaintance  with  him,  and  his  four 
wives,  and  eighteen  children  ;  to  say  nothing  of  the 
various  aunts  that  constituted  a  part  of  his  family. 
But,  were  ever  such  various  interests  so  happily 
united  ?  Were  so  many  people  ever  before  so  much 
engaged  in  one  and  the  same  cause,  and  that  with- 
out the  slightest  collision  of  opinion  ?  I  think  the 
millennium  must  have  commenced  in  that  family. 

With  what  admirable  address  Mr.  Everett  reviewed 
Mr.  Lyman's  "Italy"!  I  am  sure  no  one  will  find 
fault  with  the  faint  praise  he  has  bestowed ;  Mr. 
L.'s  friends  could  not  have  wished  him  to  have  said 
more,  and  his  enemies  could  not  desire  that  he 
should  say  less. 

Do  write  me  what  is  going  on  in  Boston ;  we  are 
as  dull  as  death  here.  I  am  now  reading  "Camilla" 
for    entertainment.      I  wish  you  would  prevail  with 


MISS  BANCROFTS  SCHOOL  133 

■ ,  if  she  sends  from  home,  to  send  her  to 

Miss  Bancroft's ;  she  is  very  well  situated  now  to 
have  a  house  full, —  that  is,  a  dozen  young  ladies  in 
the  family  with  her, —  and  her  school  is  improving 
every  day.  She  teaches  every  thing  that  a  young 
lady  has  time  to  learn,  with  the  exception  of  music, 
and  it  is  a  very  select  school. 

This  letter  has  been  written  by  fits  and  starts  ;  or, 
at  least,  with  many  interruptions,  which  must  ac- 
count for  its  want  of  connection  and  incoherence. 

Yours  very  affectionately, 

Anne  Jean  Lyman. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  marriage  of  her  sister  Mary  to  Mr.  Joseph 
Warren  Revere,  of  Boston  (the  son  of  Colonel 
Paul  Revere,  of  revolutionary  memory),  was,  during 
this  year  of  1821,  a  source  of  unalloyed  pleasure  to 
my  mother ;  and  from  this  time  the  home  of  her 
sister  was  like  another  home  to  her  and  to  her  chil- 
dren ;  and  my  aunt,  like  another  mother.  As  time 
wore  on,  and  children  gathered  in  the  Boston  home, 
my  mother  and  aunt  frequently,  for  a  few  months, 
made  an  exchange  of  children  ;  the  Revere  boys 
coming  to  our  house  for  country  air  and  life,  and 
our  girls  going  to  the  Revere  home  for  city  advan- 
tages and  polish. 

These  children  were  all  very  dear  to  my  mother  ; 
and  whenever  she  went  to  make  a  visit  to  them, 
either  in  Boston  or  at  Canton,  both  in  their  early  or 
later  years,  "Aunt  Lyman's"  coming  was  hailed  as 
a  special  privilege.  They  brought  out  all  their  stock- 
ings for  her  to  mend,  read  aloud  to  her  from  her 
favorite  books,  and  cuddled  up  to  her  to  hear  her 
witty  stories,  or  to  draw  them  out.  Of  Edward  and 
Paul, — ■  who  afterwards  gave  their  noble  lives  to  their 
country, —  she  had  no  end  of  affectionate  prophecies. 
Edward  especially  reminded  her,  in  the  warmth  of 
his  affections  and  in  his  genial  temper,  of  her  be- 
loved father,  whose  name  he  bore. 


MARRIAGE  OF  ABBY  LYMAN  135 

In  April  of  the  same  year,  the  marriage  of  my 
cousin,  Abby  Lyman,  took  away  from  my  mother 
the  close  companionship  and  tender  sympathy  of 
one  whom  she  loved  through  life  with  an  intensity 
of  affection  over  which  time  and  distance  had  no 
power.  The  frequency  of  her  letters,  in  the  midst 
of  so  many  present  cares  and  engrossing  duties,  and 
the  tender  and  perfect  confidence,  which  knew  no 
change  for  a  period  of  nearly  thirty  years,  are  very 
striking.  It  was  a  relation  which,  from  the  begin- 
ning to  the  end,  had  never  a  flaw  or  break ;  and  was 
founded  on  the  highest  sentiments  and  perfect  gener- 
osity on  both  sides. 

To  Mrs.  Greene,  Northampton,  April  30,  1S21. 

My  dear  Abby, —  It  is  scarcely  eight  hours  since 
you  left  me,  but  I  cannot  keep  you  out  of  my  mind  ; 
and  for  that  reason  I  write  to  you,  as  there  is  a 
convenient  opportunity  for  me  to  indulge  myself  in 
that  way. 

Immediately  after  you  left  me,  your  uncle  desired 
me  to  prepare  to  call  with  him  on  Miss  Davis,  which, 
at  three  o'clock,  I  did;  though  I  never  made  a 
greater  sacrifice  of  inclination  to  propriety  than 
when  I  went  down  to  Mr.  Pomeroy's, —  for  solitude 
and  not  sympathy  was  the  object  of  my  pursuit,  that 
I  might  have  the  privilege  to  think  without  interrup- 
tion. On  my  return  I  went  into  your  room  to  lie 
down,  that  I  might  occupy  that  pillow  so  lately 
pressed  by  the  beloved  child  of  my  warmest  affection. 
I  there  conceived  myself  to  be  in  the  possession  of 
the  same  consolations  that  any  parent  has  who  has 


136  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

committed  a  dear  child  to  the  grave, —  that  it  is  still 
in  the  care  of  its  Heavenly  Father,  and  that  all 
events  in  this  life,  whether  good  or  evil,  are  dictated 
by  His  love  towards  his  creatures ;  and  though  I  am 
made,  by  this  event,  less  happy,  you  are  or  will  be 
made  much  more  so. 

I  shall  always  respect  Mr.  Greene  for  the  wisdom 
of  his  choice ;  I  shall  always  love  him  if  he  makes 
my  dear  Abby  as  happy  as  she  is  capable  of  being, 
from  the  circumstances  within  his  power  to  control. 
That  you  will  always  be  good,  and  derive  all  the 
happiness  from  that  source  which  it  is  so  fruitful  in 
bestowing,  I  cannot  doubt ;  nor  that  you  will  ever 
cease  to  remember  with  kindness  and  affection  those 
who  have  extended  the  same  feelings  towards  vou, 
inasmuch  as  they  are  deserving  of  it.  But  no  virtues 
are  of  such  spontaneous  growth  in  the  human  heart 
as  not  to  be  impaired  by  neglect,  as  to  continue  to 
expand  and  flourish  without  care  and  culture  ;  and 
let  this  in  future,  as  it  has  been  in  times  past,  be  the 
subject  of  your  watchful  attention. 

To  Miss  Forbes,  May  8,  1821. 

Very  little  of  the  highest  kind  of  friendship  is  to 
be  expected  in  this  world  ;  the  want  of  it  grows  out 
of  the  nature  of  things.  For  it  is  too  exalted  and 
too  refined  a  compact  to  be  entertained  by  the 
worldly,  the  selfish,  or  the  weak  and  ambitious  ;  and 
a  great  portion  of  mankind  fall  under  one  or  other 
of  these  heads.  Friendship  supposes  a  voluntary 
union  of  hearts,  or  mutual  regard,  unrestrained  by 
any  of  the  ties  of   kindred,  and  altogether  uninflu- 


ON  THE  NATURE  OF  FRIENDSHIP  137 

enced  by  any  other  circumstance  than  the  simple 
volition  of  the  parties.  But  the  ties  of  kindred  are 
no  hindrance  to  its  exercise.  "Friendship"  (says 
Lord  Clarendon)  "  hath  the  skill  and  observation  of 
the  best  physician,  the  diligence  and  vigilance  of  the 
best  nurse,  and  the  tenderness  and  patience  of  the 
best  mother."  And  I  believe  we  must  admit  these 
ruling  traits  in  her  character,  and,  if  so,  no  ties  pre- 
vent its  exercise.  But  contemplating  it  in  the  ab- 
stract as  a  most  transcendent  and  heavenly  virtue, 
as  one  of  the  greatest  ornaments  of  human  life,  it 
must  be  divested  of  all  those  shackles  which  compel, 
by  means  of  identifying  our  happiness  or  reputation 
with  the  exercise  of  it  towards  any  individual ;  which 
would  be  to  make  self-interest  its  strongest  induce- 
ment,—  and  that,  you  know,  would  be  an  insupport- 
able incongruity. 

I  am  amused  at  myself  for  sitting  down  here, 
and  prosing  like  a  sentimental  girl  of  fifteen  upon  a 
subject  which  every  one  acknowledges  to  be  ex- 
hausted ;  and  yet,  in  speaking  of  it,  I  do  not  know 
that  I  ever  heard  any  one  make  a  sensible  or  strik- 
ing remark  in  my  life.  The  best  comment,  however, 
is  to  prove  practically  our  capability  of  entertaining 
it.  Lord  Clarendon  thinks  it  requires  a  great  per- 
fection in  virtue.  And  why  should  it  not,  when  we 
reflect  that  the  character  of  each  is  perfectly  un- 
veiled to  the  other;  for  there  must  be  perfect  con- 
fidence in  friendship,- — it  admits  no  reserve.  And, 
I  believe,  the  worst  person  in  the  world  neither  loves 
nor  respects  the  wicked.  And  though  people  are 
bound  and  leagued   together  in  vice,   it  is  an  agree- 


138  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

ment  which  bears  no  resemblance  to  the  interchange 
of  virtuous  friendship.  (Fortunately  an  imperious 
domestic  call  has  interrupted  this  inexhaustible  sub- 
ject, and  I  will  endeavor  to  make  some  reply  to  your 
interesting  letter.)  .  .  . 

As  to  Mrs.  you  can  tell  me  nothing  new  of 

her;  she  always  had  a  false  estimation  among  peo- 
ple whom  I  should  have  thought  had  more  penetra- 
tion and  good  sense  than  to  be  pleased  with  her. 
I  have  no  doubt,  if  she  live  to  old  age,  she  will 
die  a  fool,  simply  from  want  of  exercise  of  body  and 
mind, —  which  always  keep  pace  with  each  other. 
But  if  she  should  have  a  family  of  children,  it  may 
be  the  means  of  preventing  it ;  for  that  is  a  contin- 
ual stimulus  to  exertion. 

My  poor,  old  heart  has  been  terribly  shattered 
lately,  and  I  am  not  sure  that  the  influence  has  not 
reached  my  head.  I  mention  this  by  way  of  apology 
for  this  letter,  which  I  can  find  time  neither  to  copy 
nor  alter ;  but  trust  it  is  consigned  exclusively  to 
the  judgment  of  friendship.  You  know  I  have 
parted  for  ever  with  Abby.  I  hope  you  will  just 
see  the  beautiful  creature.  Her  husband  is  rather 
a  contrast  in  appearance,  but  very  intelligent  and 
good.  He  has,  in  his  selection  of  a  wife,  given  me 
an  infallible  proof  of  his  wisdom  ;  and,  I  am  sure, 
the  more  he  knows  of  her  the  more  he  will  idolize 
her.  I  ought  to  be  glad  she  is  taken  from  me,  for  I 
loved  her  a  great  deal  too  well,  and  became  too 
much  attached  to  her  society  to  wish  for  any  other. 

I  hope  by  this  time  vour  Aunt  P.  has  recovered  ; 
remember  me  to  her,  and  accept  of  my  best  love.     I 


LETTERS  TO  ABBY  LYMAN  GREENE       139 

wish  you  and  Mary  Pickard  could  come  and  spend 
the  summer  with  me ;  we  would  go  to  Brattleboro' 
and  to  Springfield,  and  have  a  grand  time,  I  assure 
you. 

To  Mrs.  Greene,  Northampton,  Aug.  4,  1821. 

My  dear  Abby, —  ...  I  have  experienced  a  great 
variety  since  you  left  me,  but  not  enough  to  drive 
from  my  thoughts  the  idea  of  my  beloved  child.  I 
console  myself  with  some  of  Byron's  extravagant 
reflections  in  trouble.  "  Existence  may  be  borne, 
and  the  deep  root  of  life  and  sufferance  makes  its 
firm  abode  in  bare  and  desolate  bosoms."  I  did  for 
the  first  few  days  feel  as  if  mine  was  bare  and  deso- 
lated, but  the  sympathy  and  kindness  which  sur- 
rounded me,  which  appeared  perfectly  to  appreciate 
and  participate  my  feelings,  soon  taught  me  that  it 
was  to  be  borne,  and  was  only  one  of  the  minor 
evils  of  life  ;  as  every  evil  is,  which  does  not  spring 
from  vice  or  death.  .  .  . 

I  suppose  you  would  like  to  know  what  has  been 
going  on  here  since  you  left.  Everybody  had  a 
pleasant  Fourth  of  July,  I  believe,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  myself.  There  was  a  great  deal  of  company 
from  Boston,  on  the  occasion.  Miss  Sarah  Dwight 
from  Springfield  came  up  and  passed  a  week,  and  a 
Mr.  Lowell,  from  Boston,  eldest  brother  of  Edward, 
a  very  fine  young  man  altogether.  He  spent  the 
most  of  four  clays  with  us;  read  "  Yamoyden  "  with 
great  pleasure  to  me,  and  left  us  quite  in  love  with 
him.  We  had  hardly  time  to  collect  our  scattered 
wits  after  Sarah  D.'s  and  L.'s  visit,  when  July  the 


140  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

15th  Mrs.  Brooks,  her  daughters,  and  the  Misses. 
Gray  came  and  made  us  a  short  visit  on  their  way 
to  Niagara,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Henshaw.  Your 
Uncle,  Mary,  Jane,  and  myself,  went  with  them  to 
Albany,  and  from  thence  we  visited  Dwight,  at  Troy, 
and  then  took  him  with  us  to  the  Saratoga  Springs, 
where  we  spent  four  days,  on  the  whole  pleasantly. 
There  is  much  there  to  admire,  and  to  excite  dis- 
gust ;  but  if  one  goes  in  good  humor  with  one's  self 
and  with  the  world,  pleasure  will  prevail.  At  the 
house  where  we  stayed,  were  more  than  two  hun- 
dred. The  first  effect  of  seeing  such  a  variety  of 
human  faces,  with  the  interest  you  cannot  fail  to 
take  in  their  various  histories,  is  exceedingly  excit- 
ing or  over-stimulating  to  the  imagination,  and  till 
you  are  familiarized  to  it,  fatigues.  But  it  is  the 
world  in  miniature ;  none  but  a  dissipated  mind 
could  enjoy  the  scene  long.  We  found  Mr.  Lowell 
there,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  B.  and  daughter;  which 
served  for  entertainment  for  Mary  and  Jane.  The 
great  Mr.  Wirt,  with  an  interesting  family,  was  there 
from  Washington,  which  was  a  source  of  much  en- 
joyment to  me.  Mrs.  Wirt  was  not  a  lady  of  great 
mental  attainments ;  but  of  much  delicacy  and  re- 
finement, and  good  judgment,  and  of  many  showy 
accomplishments.  Although  the  mother  of  twelve 
children,  she  looked  young  and  handsome,  and 
played  elegantly  on  the  piano  ;  and  played  battledore 
with  the  agility  of  fifteen,  for  hours  together.  Her 
eldest  daughter,  who  was  with  her,  resembled  her  in 
character,  except  that  she  had  more  reserve.  I  should 
hardly  dare  to  attempt  a  description  of  him,  except  in 


A  GLIMPSE  OF  WILLIAM  WIRT  141 

the  most  general  terms.  His  appearance  is  magnifi- 
cent in  an  unusual  degree,  and  everything  he  does 
exhibits  a  moral  grandeur,  in  perfect  conformity  to 
that  appearance.  There  is  something  so  imposing 
in  his  look,  that  you  feel  it  to  be  a  condescension, 
if  he  pays  you  any  attention. 

At  Ballstown  we  had  the  satisfaction  of  looking 
at  Joseph  Bonaparte,  who  calls  himself  Count  Ser- 
villier ;  his  appearance  is  that  of  a  John  Bull  much 
more  than  of  a  Frenchman, — -very  fat,  and  easy, 
with  a  most  benevolent  expression  of  face  :  his  suite 
requires  twelve  rooms. 

To  Mrs.  Greene,  Sept.  1,  1S21. 

.  .  .  Miss  Bancroft  has  just  returned  from  the 
Springs.  I  have  been  so  constantly  engaged  in 
sewing,  in  order  to  prepare  Sam  for  his  departure, 
that  I  have  scarcely  had  time  to  think  of  anything 
that  did  not  relate  to  that  particular  operation,  ex- 
cept when  I  was  interrupted  by  some  of  those  thou- 
sands of  travellers  which  traverse  the  earth  in  the 
fruitless  search  after  happiness.  Some  of  them  I 
have  been  pleased  to  see ;  others  have  wearied  me. 
I  believe  I  described  Mr.  Wirt  (the  Attorney-Gen- 
eral) to  you  in  my  last,  and  his  very  interesting 
family.  Since  I  met  them  at  the  Springs  they  have 
been  here,  and  young  John  Lowell,  the  brother  of 
Edward.  lie  received  his  early  education  under 
Mrs.  Grant,  in  one  of  the  first  seminaries  for  boys 
in  Scotland,  and  I  have  rarely  met  with  so  fine  a 
young  man.  James  Robbins  has  just  left  me,  after 
a  visit  of  a  fortnight,  which  was  very  delightful  to 


142  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

me  ;  for  I  rarely  meet  with  any  one  who  has  so 
uniformly  the  power  to  be  agreeable  and  rationally 
entertaining,  and,  at  the  same  time,  has  so  much 
fun  in  their  composition.  .  .  . 

You  are  daily  our  subject  of  thought  and  conver- 
sation, amid  all  the  variety  which  surrounds  us. 
Mary  has  read  a  good  deal  this  summer  aloud  to 
me.  The  last  number  of  the  "  North  American " 
was  very  good,  but  I  do  not  think  you  had  better 
have  it  until  the  next  volume  commences,  which  will 
be  in  the  winter.  Mary  has  just  been  reading  to 
me  "The  Judgment," — a  poem  by  Hillhouse.  It 
is  really  very  good  for  American  poetry.  It  is  a 
vision;  describing  our  Saviour  sitting  in  judgment 
on  old  patriarchs  first,  and  then  upon  the  world  in 
general.  It  certainly  is  venturing  on  sacred  ground 
to  attempt  such  a  thing ;  and  it  is  deserving  of  some 
praise  that  the  author  did  not  make  himself  ridic- 
ulous. The  same  author  wrote  "  Percy's  Masque," 
which  I  never  have  read.  Anne  Robbins  is  now 
making  me  a  visit  which,  of  course,  engrosses  much 
of  my  time.  .  .  . 

To  Miss  Forbes,  Nov,  17,  1821. 

My  dear  Emma, —  This  you  know  is  a  busy  season 
for  heads  of  families,  who  wish  to  see  their  children 
warmly  clad  for  the  approaching  season.  You  can 
have,  my  dear  Emma,  but  a  weak  impression  of  the 
subjects  which  must  occupy  the  minds  of  such  every- 
day people  as  myself.  It  is  altogether  probable  that 
when  I  am  contemplating  the  figure  of  a  garment, 
and  considering  its  construction  as  it  regards  warmth 


THE  FIELD  OF  MA  TRONL  V  CONCERN      143  . 

and  convenience,  you  are  making  some  bold  flight 
into  the  regions  of  imagination,  and  wondering  how 
people  can  suffer  their  minds  to  remain  under  the 
thraldom  of  circumstances,  and  enslaved  by  such 
mean  realities.  But  every  different  stage  of  exist- 
ence has  its  appropriate  duties  and  pleasures ;  and 
though  it  is  delightful  to  witness  the  free  and  elastic 
spirit  of  youth  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  all  that 
buoyancy  which  results  from  exemption  from  care 
and  trouble,  and  which  leads  it  to  the  anticipation 
of  meeting  with  many  flowers  in  life's  path,  which 
Providence  never  designed  they  should  realize, —  it 
is  equally  satisfactory  to  a  contemplative  or  a  reason- 
ing mind,  to  behold  the  contrast  of  the  elderly 
matron  (whose  enthusiasm  has  been  evaporated  by 
the  powerful  influence  of  time)  giving  her  exclusive 
attention  to  those  apparently  grovelling  concerns  of 
life,  which  do  not,  however,  contribute  less  to  the 
general  augmentation  of  human  happiness ;  and  to 
increase  that  sum  ought  to  make  a  principal  part  of 
our  own. 

You  do  not  know  how  much  you  made  me  desire 
to  listen  personally  to  the  eloquence  of  Mr.  Everett ; 
but  as  I  could  not  hear  him  myself,  I  am  much 
obliged  to  you  for  your  account  of  the  matter,  which 
was  highly  entertaining. 

I  hear  some  reading  every  day  ;  but  there  is  noth- 
ing so  truly  delightful  to  me  as  the  accounts  I  have 
from  my  living  friends,  in  the  form  of  letters.  I  am 
chiefly  indebted  to  my  dear  Catherine  and  Abby  for 
the  pleasure  I  obtain  in  this  way,  as  my  other  corre- 
spondents are  somewhat  uncertain. 


144  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

I  have  received  and  read  all  I  could  relish  (not 
to  say  understand)  of  the  last  "  North  American 
Review."  I  think  the  same  observation  will  apply 
to  it,  which  was  applied  in  Peter's  "Letters  "  to  the 
"Edinburgh  Review,"  "that  if  there  was  sense  in 
it,  there  was  no  point,  no  wit,  no  joke,  no  spirit,  and 
nothing  of  the  glee  of  young  existence  about  it ; " 
and  Peter,  after  making  use  of  some  very  unjustifi- 
able censures,  ends  his  comment  with  adding,  "there 
is  no  infusion  of  fresh  blood  into  the  veins  of  the 
'Review."'  Wise  as  it  is,  I  must  think  just  so 
of  our  "North  American  ;  "  I  did  not  like  the  undis- 
criminating  and  unqualified  praise  bestowed  on  my 
favorite  Cullen  Bryant.  But  as  it  is  all  out  of  my 
depth,  I  feel  that  I  do  wrong  to  entertain  any  opin- 
ion about  it. 

Mary,  who  is  my  only  companion  and  comfort 
at  this  time,  has  lately  read  me  "  Percy's  Masque," 
Miss  Aikin's  "Memoir  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  Court," 
and  Southey's  "Life  of  Wesley."  I  have  been  much 
engaged  in  the  latter ;  you  know  I  have  a  great  zest 
for  such  kind  of  things.  Though  much  of  what  is 
there  related  of  his  feelings  I  am  very  familiar  with, 
as  the  same  cant  phrases  are  now  in  use  among  our 
Orthodox  acquaintance  ;  and  they  have  the  same  un- 
settled purpose  of  mind  which  characterizes  Method- 
ism, and  the  same  extravagant  enthusiasm  which 
Wesley  carried  through  life  with  him.  Although 
this  is  an  entertaining  book,  I  must  own  that  it  is 
necessary  to  wade  through  a  great  deal  of  folly  to 
get  at  the  history  of  Methodism.  Southey  has  cer- 
tainly made  it  as  pleasing  as  the  truth  will  justify; 


ME THODIS TS  AND  CAL  VINISTS  1 45 

he  appears  to  be  very  candid,  and  proves  everything 
he  says  as  he  goes  along,  by  Wesley's  own  letters 
or  those  of  his  friends.  Notwithstanding  which  I 
am  told  the  Methodists  are  not  satisfied  with  it, 
and  do  not  think  they  have  had  justice  done  them; 
and  are  determined  to  have  another  Life  of  him  pub- 
lished which  shall  do  more  credit  to  their  system. 
I  never  knew,  till  I  read  this  book,  how  much  the 
Calvinists  had  borrowed  from  this  sect ;  but  I  find 
bright-lights,  and  spiritual  agues,  and  revivals,  all 
had  their  origin  with  the  Methodists.  It  certainly 
is  a  system  which  tends  to  produce  more  of  the 
appearance  than  the  reality  of  religion.  It  dealt  too 
much  in  sensations  (as  Mr.  Southey  remarks),  and 
in  outward  manifestations.  It  made  religion  too 
much  a  thing  of  display,  an  effort  of  sympathy  and 
confederation ;  it  led  people  too  much  from  their 
homes  and  their  closets  ;  it  imposed  too  many  forms  ; 
it  required  too  many  professions ;  it  exacted  too 
many  exposures.  And  the  necessary  consequence 
was,  that  when  their  enthusiasm  abated  they  became 
mere  formalists,  and  kept  up  a  pharisaical  appearance 
of  holiness,  when  the  real  feeling  had  evaporated 
entirely. 

I  think  you  have  had  enough  of  John  Wesley  ; 
which,  however,  I  know  you  will  excuse  when  you 
reflect  how  little  there  is  in  this  place  to  engage 
one's  interest, —  and  my  motto  and  my  rule  is,  "out 
of  the  abundance  of  the  heart  the  mouth  speaketh." 
We  are  all  well  and  happy,  except  the  prospect  of 
losing  Miss  Bancroft ;  besides  losing  a  valuable  in- 
structor, I  lose  a  very  affectionate  friend  in  whom  I 


146  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

have  taken  much  pleasure  for  four  years, —  a  pleas- 
ure that  has  never  been  interrupted  by  a  single  bit- 
ter feeling  on  the  part  of  either  of  us.  It  opens  an- 
other wound  too,  caused  by  the  separation  from  my 
beloved  child  Abby.  But  my  paper  will  not  allow 
me  to  make  reflections  on  the  various  changes  inci- 
dent to  this  sublunary  state,  and  believe  me  very 
affectionately  yours. 

P.  S. — -I  cannot  help  adding  a  postscript  just  to 
say,  that  when  Mrs.  Cary  passed  half-a-day  in  North- 
ampton, which  was  a  week  ago  to-day,  I  went  to  see 
her;  and  I  never  saw  her  half  so  charming.  She 
is  as  large  as  ever  her  mother  was,  and  her  beauty 
has  increased  in  proportion  to  her  size  —  for  flesh  is 
very  becoming  to  her;  and  she  has  as  handsome  a 
baby  as  I  ever  beheld,  and  appeared  very  happy  in 
the  prospect  of  living  in  New  York.  I  am  sure  I 
am  glad  for  her,  for  I  always  thought  her  situation 
must  be  a  very  uncongenial  one  to  one  of  her  habits 
and  way  of  thinking. 

My  mother's  letters  to  Abby  are  full  to  overflow- 
ing of  affectionate  details  of  her  own  family  life  and 
news  of  Abby's  invalid  father,  and  of  the  little  sis- 
ters, who  for  so  many  years  formed  a  part  of  the 
household  in  Northampton.  Their  improvement  in 
knowledge  and  virtue,  and  all  their  interesting  traits, 
are  constantly  recorded  for  the  absent  sister's  peru- 
sal ;  and  all  sorts  of  questions  asked  about  the  Cin- 
cinnati home,  which  seemed  always  present  to  her 
imagination. 


MRS.  GREENE'S  CINCINNATI  HOME        147 
To  Mrs.  Greene,  Jan.  6,  1822. 

I  am  delighted  with  every  augmentation  of  social 
enjoyment  you  are  promised  with,  as  well  as  what 
you   actually  experience ;  and    I    choose   to   believe 

that  you  will  find  both  Mrs. ,  and  Miss ,  a 

great  acquisition  to  you.  At  any  rate,  if  they  have 
any  hearts  to  feel,  there  will  be  some  points  of  sym- 
pathy between  you  and  them ;  they  will,  like  your- 
self, feel  the  distance  which  separates  them  from 
everything  endeared  by  early  association ;  they  will, 
like  yourself,  feel  the  want  of  seeing  friends  that  are 
far  distant.  And  all  this  similarity  of  feeling  will  be 
a  strong  and  sympathetic  tie  (as  the  case  may  be). 
But  if  they  are  cold,  inanimate  worldlings,  who 
never  felt  the  kindling  glow  of  friendship  warm  their 
hearts,  they  will  prove  little  but  an  aggravation  to 
you.  This  want  of  congeniality  no  one  ever  felt,  I 
believe,  more  keenly  in  their  daily  associates  and 
neighbors,  than  I  have  done  at  certain  periods  of  my 
life.  But  I  think  domestic  union,  and  affection  in 
the  small  family  circle,  is  a  substitute  for  it  in  some 
measure  ;  and  perhaps  wanting  those  external  sources 
over  which  to  expand  the  surplus  affection  of  the 
heart  may  induce  us  to  be  more  careful  to  preserve 
and  cultivate  the  love  of  those  with  whom  we  live. 
If  it  has  that  effect,  it  must  not  be  regretted ;  as 
nothing  is  more  desirable,  of  an  earthly  nature,  than 
to  strengthen  those  ties  which  Nature  has  formed, 
and  by  that  means  second  the  plans  of  the  Almighty, 
who  undoubtedly  had  a  wise  design  in  planning  the 
tender  ties  which  constitute  the  various  social  rela- 
tions of  the  human  family. 


148  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

I  always  read  your  letters,  or  such  parts  as  I  know 
will  interest  them,  to  your  father  and  mother,  when 
I  see  them  ;  and  I  have  kept  up  a  correspondence 
with  Sally  since  she  left  me,  so  that  they  hear  from 
you  as  often  as  I  do.  I  expect  to  have  Sally  in  town 
again  to  go  to  school  when  Mr.  Tyng  begins,  as  he 
will  take  girls  next  quarter. 

I  have  been  reading  two  delightful  books  :  "  Vale- 
rius," a  Roman  story ;  and  "  Geraldine ;  or,  Modes 
of  Faith  and  Practice,"  in  which  nothing  is  wanting 
but  originality.  I  read  "  Anacharsis  "  four  years  ago 
with  Catherine,  and  enjoyed  it  as  much,  I  think,  as 
you  can.  Sir  William  Jones's  "Life,"  too,  I  have 
read,  I  hope  with  some  improvement ;  for  I  shall 
never  forget  the  impression  left  on  my  mind  by  the 
careful  attention  shown  him  by  his  mother,  during 
his  early  youth,  on  which  it  appeared  to  me  was 
founded  all  his  future  eminence  as  a  good,  useful, 
and  literary  man.  If  I  recollect  right  he  acquired 
twenty-eight  languages ;  but  that  acquisition,  to- 
gether with  his  poetry,  I  could  dispense  with  in  my 
son,  if  he  could  dictate  such  prayers,  and  propose  to 
himself  the  attainments  of  knowledge  only  as  a 
means  of  doing  good  and  becoming  extensively  use- 
ful to  his  fellow-creatures.  Perhaps  the  annals  of 
the  world  do  not  furnish  an  instance  of  so  short 
a  life,  in  which  so  much  real  good  was  accomplished, 
and  so  much  evil  prevented,  by  the  various  plans  he 
formed  and  executed  for  enlightening  the  benighted 
people,  amongst  whom  he  went  to  live.  I  think  he 
was  but  forty-seven  years  old  when  he  died.  To 
contemplate  such  a  life  must  be  useful  to  any  one. 


VISIT  TO  MARY  REVERE  149 

It  is  calculated  to  exalt  our  standard  of  human  excel- 
lence ;  and  everything  which  has  that  effect  is  prof- 
itable to  the  heart  as  well  as  understanding. 

To  Mrs.  Greene,  Feb.  28,  1822. 

My  dear  Abby, —  I  have  just  returned  from  Bos- 
ton, after  having  spent  a  month  there  most  delight- 
fully ;  not  in  dissipation,  but  in  that  heart-warming 
interchange  with  friends  that  is  so  refreshing  to  the 
best  affections  of  the  human  heart.  It  was  a  great 
addition  to  my  comfort  to  find  my  sister  Mary  so 
agreeably  situated,  with  a  husband  who  has  every 
quality  that  is  essential  to  the  happiness  of  an  amia- 
ble and  refined  woman,  together  with  a  heart  filled 
with  tenderness  for  her. 

Mrs.  Balestier,  the  sister  of  Mr.  Revere,  informed 
me,  on  hearing  me  make  inquiry  after  Miss  Baity, 
that  she  was  well  acquainted  with  her ;  and  offered 
to  go  to  Charlestown  with  me  and  call  on  her. 
Miss  B.'s  brother  is  Mr.  Balestier's  partner  in  busi- 
ness, which  has  given  Mrs.  Balestier  an  opportunity 
of  being  well  acquainted  with  her,  as  I  before  ob- 
served ;  and  she  says  she  will  be  a  great  acquisition 
to  you,  and  that  she  is  an  uncommonly  intelligent, 
well-educated  woman.  I  was  as  much  pleased  with 
her  as  I  should  choose  to  be  with  any  one  on  so 
short  an  interview.  I  found  her  expectations  were 
much  more  sanguine  in  regard  to  the  place  of  her 
future  residence,  than  yours  ever  were.  But  I  do 
not  think  she  will  be  disappointed,  for  I  have  an 
idea  that  Cincinnati  is  a  much  more  agreeable  place 
to  live  in,  than  Charlestown.      I  am  delighted  with 


150  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

every  addition  to  your  happiness,  if  it  is  only  in 
prospect ;  and  must  flatter  myself  that  it  will  be 
promoted  in  proportion  as  good  and  agreeable 
people  from  New  England  become  the  inhabitants 
of  the  place  in  which  you  reside.  I  say  New  Eng- 
land people,  because  the  more  we  are  assimilated  to 
those  amongst  whom  we  live,  by  habit,  the  more 
we  enjoy  their  society. 

I  am  glad  that  you  have  a  physician  that  you 
think  so  well  of,  and  who  is  likewise  so  much  your 
friend.  I  am  not  certain  that  Edward  will  be  in 
Boston  at  the  time  Dr.  Smith  will  be  there ;  but 
Mrs.  Balestier  will  see  him,  and  will  let  me  know  in 
season  to  get  the  things  I  wish  to  send, —  and  I  will 
not  forget  the  Webster's  "  Oration."  I  was  afraid 
you  would  not  get  the  "North  American  Review," 
as  you  never  mentioned  the  receipt  of  it  ;  and  I  got 
Mr.  Revere  to  call  and  leave  a  five  dollar  bill,  and 
take  a  receipt  for  it  from  Mr.  O.  Everett,  which 
I  was  told  was  a  necessary  form,  when  it  went  out 
of  the  State. 

It  may  be  interesting  to  Mr.  Greene  as  well  as 
yourself  to  know  who  the  authors  of  the  "Review" 
in  the  last  number  were.  The  first  two  were  by 
the  editor,  Mr.  Edward  Everett ;  "  Encke's  Comet," 
by  Mr.  Bowditch ;  Dr.  Webster's  "Azores,"  by 
Cogswell;  Stuart's  "Dis,"  by  Sidney  Willard  ; 
"Life  of  Algernon  Sidney,"  by  Edward  Brooks; 
"Fairfax's  Tasso,"  by  John  C.  Gray;  Madame  de 
Stacl's  "Works,"  by  Alex.  Everett ;  Hale's  "Dis- 
sertations," by  Dr.  Ware;  Adelung's  "Survey,"  by 
John    Pickering ;   "  Life  of  Pitt,"  by  Theo.  Lyman  ; 


READING  "  THE  PIRATE"  AND  "SPY"      151 

"Weights  and  Measures,"  by  Professor  Farrar; 
"New  York  Canals,"  by  Mr.  Patterson.  It  is  a 
great  while  since  Professor  Everett  has  written 
any  thing  so  much  to  my  liking  as  the  "  Comment 
on  Percival's  Poems ; "  there  is  some  wit  in  it,  as 
well  as  good  sense. 

Mary  is  at  a  party  this  evening  at  Harriet  Clapp's, 
or  I  dare  say  she  would  have  some  message  for  you. 
Love  to   Mr.    Greene.     Yours  with  much  affection. 

Anne  Jean  Lyman. 

To  Mrs.  Greene,  April  11,  1S22. 

My  Dear  Abby, —  Since  my  return  from  Boston, 
Mary  has  been  reading  to  me  in  Hume's  "  England," 
—  which  I  have  heard  so  often,  that  it  has  not  a 
very  exciting  influence  on  my  mind.  We  have 
suffered  an  agreeable  interruption  from  the  "  Pirate  " 
and  "  Spy."  There  is  much  said  by  the  reviewers 
in  favor  of  the  "Pirate;"  but,  in  my  estimation, 
it  is  very  inferior  to  the  most  of  the  same  author's 
productions.  It  does  not  inspire  one  with  at  all  the 
same  kind  of  interest  that  "  Guy  Mannering,"  or 
"The  Antiquary,"  or  "  Waverley"  did;  because  you 
find  only  the  same  style  of  character,  modified  by 
difference  of  circumstances,  which  has  only  the 
effect  of  meeting  old  acquaintances,  dressed  in  a 
new  garb,  but  produces  none  of  the  excitement  of 
novelty  for  which  the  earliest  works  of  that  author 
were  so  peculiar.  By  the  time  you  get  through  the 
Yellowlcys'  journey  to  the  feast,  you  feel  as  much 
wearied  as  if  you  had  taken  it  yourself.  The  "  Spy  " 
is  an  American   production,  as  I  presume  you  know, 


152  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

by  the  author  of  "  Precaution  ;  "  and  has  no  claim  to 
any  kind  of  excellence.  It  is  a  very  humble  imita- 
tion of  some  of  Scott's  novels ;  and  though  it  makes 
some  pretensions  to  truth  in  the  facts  related,  I 
believe  the  reality  will  not  justify  a  reliance  on 
them. 

As  the  year  has  nearly  expired  since  the  line  of 
separation  was  drawn  between  you  and  me,  I  cannot 
help  making  a  good  many  reflections  on  my  present 
resources  of  happiness,  in  comparison  with  what 
I  enjoyed  previous  to  that  time.  And  it  is  a  great 
pleasure  to  me  to  believe  that  your  pleasures  are 
increased  in  as  great  a  degree  as  mine  are  dimin- 
ished. But  I  have  too  many  blessings  left  to  justify 
a  word  of  complaint.  Notwithstanding  our  bless- 
ings, we  are  prone  to  overestimate  our  troubles ; 
and  I  must  say  I  have  had  peculiar  trials  of  feeling, 
of  a  nature  not  to  admit  much  alleviation  from 
sympathy. 

To  Mrs.  Greene,  May  20,  1822. 

My  dear  Abby, —  It  is  very  good  in  you  to  write 
to  an  old  aunt,*  whose  letters,  I  am  aware,  are  but 
a  poor  compensation  for  any  effort  you  may  be 
pleased  to  make  in  the  writing  way.  And  besides, 
your  continuing  to  write  indicates  to  me  a  healthful 
state  of  your  affections  ;  and  that,  much  as  you  are 
and  ought  to  be  engaged  in  present  objects,  you 
do  not  cease  to  think  and  feel  for  distant  ones. 
These  matters  of  the  heart,  my  dear  Abby,  depend 
much  on  our  care  and  cultivation.  If  we  neglect  to 
cherish  kind  recollections,  and  the  only  interchange 

*  The  "  old  aunt  "  here  mentioned  was  just  thirty-four  years  of  age. 


ON  CHERISHING  THE  AFFECTIONS         153 

provided  for  those  separated  by  distance  from  us, 
our  affections  become  withered  and  blasted  for  want 
of  nutriment;  but  if  we  are  principled  to  keep  them 
alive  by  proper  attention  to  them,  they  will  admin- 
ister much  towards  cheering  our  path  through  this 
valley  of  tears.  A  desire  for  the  esteem  and  love 
of  those  around  us,  or  of  those  with  whom  we  are 
connected,  is  not  an  ignoble  passion  of  the  human 
heart,  but  may  be  founded  on  the  purest  and  most 
exalted  principles  ;  and  is  generally  accompanied  by 
a  great  expansion  of  regard  towards  those  from 
whom  we  wish  it  reciprocated;  and  is  altogether  a 
different  sentiment  from  that  of  wishing  for  popu- 
lar favor  or  admiration,  to  increase  our  distinction 
among  our  fellow-creatures  when  no  corresponding 
sentiment  is  entertained. 

This  subject  reminds  me  to  inform  you  that  Jane 
has  been  one  of  the  most  constant  and  improved 
correspondents  you  can  conceive  of ;  she  will  return 
to  us  in  another  month. 

I  don't  know  that  I  could  communicate  any  news 
of  a  very  interesting  kind  to  you,  for  there  is 
nothing  stirring  here  more  than  I  mentioned  in  my 
last.  Mrs.  Dvvight  and  Betsy  have  been  passing 
a  fortnight  with  me  very  pleasantly ;  we  have  done 
a  good  deal  of  visiting.  Betsy  still  stands  on  the 
single  list, —  a  proof  of  the  want  of  discrimination 
in  her  male  acquaintance  ;  for,  to  me  she  is  pos- 
sessed of  ever}'  qualification,  both  external  and  in- 
trinsic, which  is  essential  to  the  happiness  of  a 
man's  life,  as  far  as  a  woman  has  any  control  over 
it.       T   suppose  by  this  time  you  have  received  the 


154  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

last  "North  American  Review;"  I  have  not  "yet 
learned  who  the  authors  are.  The  piece  on  "  Essay- 
Writing"  was  the  most  interesting  to  me,  and 
I  thought  it  probable   Mr.   Everett  wrote  it. 

Justin  Clark,  whom  you  recollect  as  one  of  our 
beaux,  has  just  returned  from  Washington,  where 
he  has  passed  the  last  six  months, —  being  employed 
for  one  of  the  newspapers  to  report  the  proceedings 
of  Congress, —  and  I  assure  you  he  is  very  much 
improved.  There  is  an  intelligent  young  man,  by 
the  name  of  Baker,  studying  with  Mr.  Mills,  who  is 
now  about  to  take  Mr.  Tyng's  school.  And  now  I 
believe  you  have  had  a  statement  of  the  beaux  estab- 
lishment. The  belles  are  Miss  Catherine  and  Miss 
Emeline  Shepherd,  and  Miss  Mills. 

To  Miss  Forbes,  June  io,  1822. 

...  I  feel  as  if  your  cousin  N.  P.'s  removal  to 
Worcester  had  brought  you  considerably  nearer  to 
me ;  for  you  will  undoubtedly  visit  her,  and  it  will 
be  nothing  to  get  from  there  here, —  particularly  if 
you  select  a  time  when  one  of  Judge  Howe's  courts 
sit  there,  and  return  with  him.  But  I  should  like  to 
have  you  and  C.  come  together,  as  I  think  you 
would  both  enjoy  yourselves  better  for  each  other's 
company. 

Mr.  Theodore  Sedgwick  has  been  here  for  a  few 
days,  which  has  made  a  little  variety  for  us  ;  and 
Mr.  B.  and  his  two  boys.  I  presume  you  have  read 
Miss  S.'s  book.  There  is  no  danger  of  such  books 
being  multiplied  to  too  great  a  degree,  as  they  are 
suited  to  the  majority  of  readers,  who,  if  they  cannot 


DEATH  OF  PROFESSOR  FISHER  155 

get  good  trifles,  read  trash,  and  are  injured  by  it.  I 
have  not  heard  whether  Mr.  Inches  and  family  have 
gone  out  to  Milton  yet,  but  I  presume  they  have 
not.     I  conclude  you  have  E.  D.  near  you. 

In  the  account  of  the  packet  "  Albion,"  I  presume 
you  saw  the  death  of  one  of  Judge  P.'s  daughters,  of 
Upper  Canada.  I  should  like  very  much  to  know 
which  of  them  it  was.     There  was  also  the  death  of 

Professor  F ,   of   New   Haven,  in   whose   death 

much    unhappiness    is    involved.     He   was    engaged 

to  Miss  C.  B ,  a  young  lady  possessed  of  a  great 

deal  of  good  sense  and  genius ;  but  who  had,  under 
very  interesting  circumstances,  left  her  father's 
house  last  autumn  to  find  another  home.  She  went 
to  see  a  friend  in  New  Haven,  preparatory  to  get- 
ting a  school ;  and  while  she  was  there  became  ac- 
quainted with  and  was  engaged  to  this  worthy  young 
man,  which  brightened  her  earthly  prospects  very 
much, — for  they  were  in  midnight  gloom  when  she 
left  her  home.  Since  then  she  has  been  teaching  a 
school  in  New  London,  with  the  hope  of  leaving  it 
in  another  year  to  become  the  happy  wife  of  a  young 
man  as  much  distinguished  in  the  region  where  he 
is  known,  as  Mr.  Everett  is  in  Boston  and  its  neigh- 
borhood ;  distinguished  not  only  for  science,  but  for 
the  most  exemplary  goodness.  I  have  mentioned 
this  to  you,  not  because  you  could  take  any  interest 
in  the  parties,  but  because  I  wish  you  to  know  some 
of  the  misery  there  is  in  the  world,  from  which  you 
are  exempt ;  and  I  dare  say  the  same  circumstances 
would  interest  you  in  a  fictitious  tale. 


156  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

To  Mrs.  Greene,  Northampton,  July  I,  1822. 

My  Dear  Abby, —  I  shall  be  called  day  after  to 
morrow  to  keep  the  anniversary  of  yv>ur  departure 
from  us.  I  need  not  say  how  many  regrets  and  how 
many  agonizing  thoughts  are  revived  by  this  reflec- 
tion, though  mingled  with  them  is  much  satisfaction. 
It  is  not  the  least  pleasing  reflection  to  me  that  our 
intercourse  was  never  interrupted  by  dissensions,  or 
even  temporary  heart-burnings,  which  tend  so  pow- 
erfully to  weaken  the  influence  of  affection ;  for 
where  reproof  was  couched  in  too  strong  terms  on 
my  part,  it  always  found  a  proportionate  measure  of 
patience  on  yours,  by  which  the  equipoise  of  good 
feeling  was  preserved.  But  all  these  recollections 
only  tend  to  aggravate  the  loss  I  have  sustained. 
However,  had  you  always  lived  with  me,  perhaps  I 
should  have  become  insensible  to  the  comfort  I  was 
enjoying,  and  have  thought  no  more  of  it,  than  we 
are  prone  to  of  a  good  night's  rest, —  which  you 
know  we  do  not  value  until  we  are  deprived  of  it; 
which  proves  to  us  that  misery  is  essential  to  happi- 
ness, and  that 

"  The  hues  of  bliss  more  brightly  glow, 
Chastised  by  sable  tints  of  woe." 

Jane  returned  to  us  last  Monday;  she  appears 
very  well,  and  very  happy.  As  it  regards  the  acqui- 
sitions she  made  in  Troy,  I  think  they  are  much 
more  of  the  nature  of  "sazlthzn  ballast."  But  she 
is  not  injured,  and  has  gained  some  confidence  and 
some  independence,  which  may  be  of  essential  ser- 
vice to  her;  and  her  experience  has,  on  the  whole, 
been  favorably  extended. 


A  GOOD  MAN'S  MEMORY  157 

There  have  been  several  very  exciting  causes 
which    have    tended    to   disturb  the   monotony  of  a 

Northampton  existence  very  much.  .  .  . 

Then  follow  many  village  annals ;  and  she  closes 
with  a  recipe  for  curing  hams,  which  she  is  sure 
Abby  must  want. 

To  Miss  Forbes,  ATorthampton,  Aug.  6,  1S22. 

You  do  not  know  what  a  heart-cheering  effect 
your  letter  had  upon  me,  my  dear  Emma.  But  the 
intelligence  I  heard  immediately  afterwards  was  a 
great  damper  to  my  spirits ;  for  I  knew  that  your 
uncle's  death  would  be  a  great  affliction  to  yourself, 

to  your  mother,  and  to  perhaps  more  than  to 

either  of  you.  But  so  good  a  man  has  left  a  delight- 
ful retrospect  to  his  friends ;  they  must  console 
themselves  with  thinking  of  the  good  actions  which 
filled  up  his  earthly  career,  of  the  wounds  to  which 
his  kindness  and  assistance  were  a  healing  balm,  of 
the  afflictions  to  which  his  warm  and  accessible  sym- 
pathies were  so  comforting  and  so  readily  yielded. 
The  first  effect  of  all  these  reflections  is  to  widen 
the  breach  made  ;  but  when  time  has  mitigated  the 
first  impulse  of  sorrow,  it  must  be  delightful  to  asso- 
ciate with  the  memory  of  a  departed  friend  those 
virtues  which  we  believe  insure  everlasting  happi- 
ness. 

We  arc  enjoying  a  great  deal  from  the  society  of 
Eliza  Cabot  at  this  time  ;  she  is  very  well,  in  fine 
spirits,  and  of  course  very  agreeable.  I  am  going 
to  carry  her  to  Stockbridge  to-morrow,  to  spend  a 


158  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

few  days  with  Miss  Sedgwick.  I  expect  so  much 
from  this  little  excursion,  that  it  will  be  a  strange 
thing  if  disappointment  does  not  ensue. 

I  think  you  and  C.  must  have  some  very  interest 
ing  interviews  after  such  a  long  separation,  wherein 
so  much  variety  has  occurred.  If  C.'s  health  had 
not  been  benefited  at  all,  I  should  never  regret  her 
having  made  the  excursion  she  did  to  the  Springs. 
It  has  extended  her  experience  of  mankind,  so  favor- 
ably, and  left  so  much  new  imagery  in  her  mind  to 
reflect  on  hereafter ;  and  all  too  of  a  very  animating 
character.  .  .  . 

In  her  next  letter  to  Mrs.  Greene,  dated  Aug.  29, 
1822,  she  speaks  of  having  felt  ill  for  some  months, 
but  says  :  "  It  has  not  prevented  our  having  com- 
pany continually,  and  kept  up  such  an  agitation  of 
spirits,  that  I  did  not  feel  willing  under  them  to 
write  to  anybody.  Mr.  Edmund  Dwight  and  his 
wife  have  made  us  a  visit.  Miss  Eliza  Cabot  has 
been  here  a  month  on  a  visit  to  my  sister  Howe; 
and  Robert  Sedgwick  spent  a  few  days  here  with 
his  new  wife,  Miss  Elizabeth  Ellery,  from  Newport. 

"I  went  three  weeks  ago  to  Stockbridge  with  Miss 
Cabot ;  we  passed  a  night  at  your  father's  on  our 
way  there,  had  a  pleasant  ride,  and  were  well  pleased 
with  a  visit  of  two  days  after  we  got  there.  Charles 
Sedgwick's  is  one  of  the  most  crowded  houses  you 
can  conceive  of.  Every  room  in  the  house  has  sev- 
eral beds  in  it,  except  one  parlor.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Theodore  Sedgwick,  with  Mrs.  S.'s  aunt  and  two 
children,  Mrs.  Watson  and  two  children,  and  two  of 


THE  SEDGWICK  FAMILY  159 

Mrs.  Dwight's  children,  added  to  Charles's  own  fam- 
ily, consisting  of  seven.  Harry's  family  board  in 
the  neighborhood.  Elizabeth  necessarily  keeps  very 
much  in  her  nursery,  taking  care  of  the  children; 
and  Catherine  is  the  mainspring  of  the  machinery, 
by  which  the  family  is  kept  together  and  pro- 
vided for. 

"  I  think  the  Sedgwick  family  unite  as  much  moral 
and  intellectual  greatness  as  I  have  seen  combined 
in  one  family ;  and  their  society  is  a  rare  pleasure  to 
me.  Mrs.  Jane  Sedgwick  has  an  uncommonly  brill- 
iant and  discriminating  mind,  with  a  good  share  of 
imagination.  Mrs.  Theodore  Sedgwick  has  one  of 
those  perfectly  subdued  and  disciplined  minds,  which 
makes  her  a  truly  practical  woman  ;  and  if  she  ex- 
cites less  of  your  love  than  Mrs.  Jane,  you  cannot 
help  yielding  her  your  unqualified  admiration  and 
respect.  In  my  estimation,  Catherine  Sedgwick  is 
beyond  all  praise,  and  I  should  not  think  of  describ- 
ing even  the  outline  of  her  character;  but  in  no 
branch  is  she  more  strikingly  excellent  than  in  the 
domestic  department,  producing  comfort  by  every 
motion  she  makes. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  received  the  last  '  North 
American  Review.'  I  like  it  better  than  I  usually 
do,  inasmuch  as  it  is  not  entirely  out  of  the  circle  of 
my  narrow  information,  as  those  'Reviews'  usually 
are.  The  comment  on  the  '  Spy '  is  very  good,  and 
was  written  by  Wm.  Gardiner  of  Boston  ;  that  on 
'  Bracebridge  Hall '  is  rather  testy,  though  it  is  not 
devoid  of  merit.  The  '  Foreigner's  Opinion  of  Eng- 
land,' which  I  have  read  this  summer,  was  by  Ed- 


160  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

ward  Brooks,  and  is  very  just.  'Europe,'  a  book 
written  by  Mr.  Alexander  Everett,  was  reviewed  by 
one  of  the  Grays." 

To  Miss  Forbes,  Northampton,  March  2,  1823. 

My  Dear  Emma, —  When  I  first  received  your  let- 
ter, which  is  nearly  a  month  since,  I  felt  inspired 
by  gratitude  to  sit  immediately  down  and  answer  it; 
but  I  then  had  some  imperious  claims  in  the  episto- 
lary way,  which  forbade  the  indulgence  of  my  incli- 
nation ;  and  since  then  I  have  experienced  consider- 
able variety  for  me,  such  as  some  sickness,  a  ride  to 
Deerfield,  and  another  to  Springfield.  The  latter  I 
should  have  enjoyed  exceedingly,  but  I  was  sick 
every  moment  of  the  time,  and  it  was  an  effort  to 
keep  off  the  bed.  But  when  I  did,  I  was  compen- 
sated by  the  society  of  Mr.  Peabody,  and  your  ac- 
quaintance, Margaret  Emery.  I  always  liked  Miss 
Emery  very  much,  but  never  so  well  as  now.  With- 
out the  least  affectation  of  eccentricity,  she  is  a 
little  odd,  and  situated  as  she  is  it  is  a  misfortune  to 
her;  but  it  only  makes  her  the  more  interesting  to 
me,  and  she  certainly  has  an  excellent  mind.  She 
happened  to  be  spending  a  week  with  Mrs  O.,  with 
whom  I  passed  the  most  of  my  time,  and  where  Mr. 
Peabody  spends  much  of  his. 

I  was  glad  to  hear  of  Mrs.  P.'s  safety  and  happi« 
ness  in  having  a  son ;  her  situation  is  so  retired  a 
one,  that  the  care  (irksome  as  it  appears)  will  be  a 
comfort  to  her,  and  one  that  brings  its  reward  daily. 
It  is  a  comfort  that  no  one  can  form  an  idea  of  but 
those  who  have  realized  it.     I  have  experienced  no 


ON  THE  PLEASURE  OF  READING  161 

source  of  joy  so  pure,  or  so  fruitful,  as  that  derived 
from  my  children ;  it  has  been  more  than  a  counter- 
poise for  all  the  labor  and  care  incident  to  such  bless- 
ings. Joseph  has  been  rather  poorly  all  winter; 
some  of  the  time  quite  sick.  But  it  makes  him  very 
tame  and  interesting.  He  has  now  got  as  well  as 
usual,  and  within  the  last  ten  days  has  read  the 
"Pioneers,"  and  "Valerius,"  a  Roman  story,  to  me. 
I  was  entertained  with  the  "  Pioneers,"  but  it  ap- 
pears to  me  it  is  one  of  those  ephemeral  produc- 
tions which  cannot  outlive  the  present  day.  The 
object  of  this  work  is  in  itself  very  small,  and  the 
effect  produced  seems  to  be  exactly  in  proportion  to 
it.  In  reading,  nothing  is  more  fatiguing  to  me  than 
minute  details  of  low  people,  with  which  I  think  this 
book,  like  the  "  Spy,"  is  very  much  encumbered.  I 
found  "Valerius"  a  delightful  antidote  to  the  effect 
of  that  old,  prosing,  tedious  "  Richard  Jones,"  and 
was  interested  and  delighted  with  every  word  of  it. 
In  short,  I  think,  my  dear  Emma,  that  it  is  one  of 
the  pleasures  of  reading,  to  carry  the  imagination  a 
little  out  of  the  track  of  the  dull  realities  of  life,  in 
which  there  is  not  enough  to  exalt  our  thoughts,  and 
produce  a  high  tone  of  mind.  Not  that  I  under- 
value that  happy  pliability  of  mental  temperament 
that  enables  people  without  effort  to  descend  to  the 
lowest  and  most  minute  duties  of  life.  And  human 
life  consists  of  constant  transitions,  of  the  most 
varied  and  complicated  series  of  events,  requiring 
the  exercise  of  the  highest  and  lowest  efforts  of  our 
reason,  with  every  intermediate  stage  or  ability  of 
which  it  is  susceptible. 


162  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

Ever  since  I  heard  it,  the  departure  of  our  dear 
friend,  Mrs.  Inches,  has  been  interwoven  with  almost 
all  my  reflections.  How  few  could  join  the  world  of 
spirits,  with  such  spotless  purity  of  soul  as  she  has 
done !  When  I  compare  myself  with  her,  I  feel 
ashamed  of  the  disparity  between  us.  I  believe  she 
never  formed  or  executed  a  plan  that  did  not  involve 
the  comfort  of  others,  in  some  way  or  other.  She 
had  that  exuberance  of  disinterested  kindness  that 
led  her  continually  to  a  forgetfulness  of  her  own  con- 
venience or  pleasure.  In  future,  if  I  make  new 
friends,  they  cannot  be  substitutes  for  my  old  ones, 
and  I  feel  that  a  dreadful  breach  is  made  in  what  I 
have  always  considered  a  very  narrow  circle.  And 
you  know,  Emma,  that  a  great  many  acquaintances 
are  not  worth  one  friend.  Mrs.  Inches'  children  will 
probably  never  know  what  they  have  lost ;  their 
associations  will  always  be  blended  with  her  infirm- 
ities of  mind  and  body,  as  they  have  witnessed  them 
for  two  years  past.  This  is  deeply  to  be  regretted ; 
for  the  influence  of  strong  as  well  as  right  impres- 
sions upon  the  minds  of  young  people,  of  the  age 
of  the  four  oldest  at  least,  is  very  important  in  giv- 
ing a  bias  to  their  future  character.  I  cannot  help 
wishing  that  I  could  be  nearer  to  the  bereaved  hus- 
band and  children  of  this  excellent  woman,  that  I 
might  contribute  my  mite  towards  comforting  or  con- 
soling them  in  their  affliction. 

When  you  write  again,  tell  me  who  is  to  be  set- 
tled at  Summer  Street,  and  if  any  one  can  approve 
Mr.  Sparks  leaving  Baltimore. 

In  answer  to  a  remark  you  made  in  your  last  let- 


DEATH  OF  MRS.  INCHES  163 

ter,  I  will  inform  you  that  none  of  the  communica- 
tions you  make  to  me,  if  it  is  a  description  of  the 
inmost  recesses  of  your  own  heart,  shall  ever  in  fut- 
ure cause  you  any  trouble ;  and  I  do  not  wish  you  to 
write  shackled  by  the  expectation  that  any  of  the  W. 
people  are  going  to  hear  what  you  say  to  me,  or  any 
other  people. 

P.  S.     The  union   of  and  ■ ■  was  one   of 

those  unaccountable  matches,  that  everybody  on 
earth  wonders  at,  and  which  we  must  conclude  are 
made  in  Heaven.  The  children  are  all  around  me, 
and  wishing  to  send  different  messages  to  you.  I 
do  not  trust  myself  generally  to  write  a  word  about 
them,  for  fear  of  betraying  the  folly  which  a  too 
partial  mother  is  liable  to  ;  if  I  did,  I  should  prob- 
ably say  they  were  the  handsomest,  wisest,  and  best 
that  ever  were,  and  you  very  properly  would  not 
believe  a  word  of  it. 

To  Mrs.  Greene,  March  10,  1S23. 

.  .  .  You  often  have  heard  me  speak  of  my  friend 
Mrs.  Inches.  I  have  recently  been  called  to  lament 
her  departure,  and  a  great  breach  it  has  made  in  my 
small  circle  of  real  friends  ;  for  she  was  the  most 
uniform,  most  kin d,  and  most  affectionate  being, 
where  she  was  enlisted,  that  I  ever  knew.  And  I 
always  felt  a  certainty  that  the  pleasure  I  was  to 
have  in  seeing  her  would  be  fully  reciprocated  by 
her  when  we  met.  I  had  experienced  from  her,  for 
sixteen  years, 

"  That  constant  flow  of  love  that  knows  no  falL" 


1 64  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

She  had  a  mind  that  never  was  disturbed  by 

"  Those  cataracts  and  breaks, 
Which  humor  interposed  too  often  makes." 

All  these  traits  of  character  made  her  an  interesting 
acquaintance  and  a  most  desirable  friend.  And  I 
rejoice  that  I  knew  her,  when  her  example  was  likely 
to  sink  deep  into  my  heart.  Such  a  prevailing  influ- 
ence has  this  circumstance  had  on  my  mind,  that  I 
find  it  difficult  to  dismiss  it ;  though  I  know  it  has 
no  other  interest  for  you  than  an  event  which  af- 
fects me. 

Notwithstanding  our  numerous  trials  this  winter, 
we  have  enjoyed  reading  Bradford's  "History  of 
Massachusetts,"  Sismondi's  "  Switzerland,"  the  "  Pio- 
neers," the  "Voice  from  St.  Helena,"  "Valerius," 
and  various  periodical  publications  in  the  form  of 
Reviews  ;  all  of  which  I  presume  you  have  seen, 
unless  it  is  Bradford's  "History."  .  .  . 

To  Mrs.  Greene,  May  15,  1823. 

My  dear  Abby, —  Your  uncle  wrote  you  of  the 
happy  termination  of  a  sorrowful  winter  ;  but  I  will 
not  make  any  complaint,  for  I  never  saw  a  finer 
child  than  mine,  as  it  regards  health,  as  well  as  good 
looks.  But  within  one  week,  my  dear  Abby,  I  was 
called  to  experience  the  extremes  of  joy  and  grief. 
No  one  could  have  more  reason  to  rejoice  and  be 
gratified  for  the  circumstance  which  immediately 
restored  me  to  health  and  usefulness,  than  I  had. 
But  while  my  heart  was  dilated  with  the  most  highly- 
excited  emotions   on  that    account,  I  was  called  to 


ON  THE  BLESSING  OF  SORROW  165 

mourn  the  departure  of  that  truly  interesting  and 
excellent  youth,  George  Tyng.  As  you  saw  him,  you 
could  form  but  an  inadequate  idea  of  what  he  after- 
wards became.  I  never  saw  any  one  more  subdued 
by  the  circumstances  which  occurred  to  him,  than  he 
was.  Yes !  his  spirit  was  fitted  by  the  discipline  of 
life  for  the  more  exalted  enjoyments  of  the  world  of 
spirits, —  where  we  are  told  of  the  good,  that  "  God 
will  wipe  all  tears  from  their  eyes,  and  there  shall  be 
no  more  sorrow,  nor  death,  neither  shall  there  be 
any  more  pain." 

But  in  the  first  deprivation  caused  by  the  death  of 
a  friend,  these  reflections  are  but  a  partial  antidote  ; 
and  we  do  not  allow  ourselves  at  once  to  reason  on 
the  moral  uses  of  affliction,  but  involuntarily  give 
way  to  the  sensations  of  sorrow,  so  naturally  pro- 
duced by  the  loss  of  our  friends.  .  .  .  Sorrow  is  a 
wholesome  regimen  for  us,  and  weans  us  from  the 
vanities  of  the  world,  and  induces  us  to  think  of  the 
relation  we  sustain,  not  only  to  our  fellow-creatures 
but  to  our  Heavenly  Father,  who  gives  and  who 
takes  away,  as  he  sees  fit.  How  often  those  adverse 
circumstances  which  we  most  deeply  deplore  prove 
themselves  to  be  our  greatest  blessings,  by  sowing 
the  seeds  of  virtues  in  our  hearts,  which  we  were 
destitute  of  before,  and  by  the  exercise  of  which  we 
may  gain  so  much  self-respect,  and  benefit  those 
within  the  sphere  of  our  influence  so  much  !  How 
many  compassionate  dispositions  have  filled  the 
place  of  overbearing  pride  and  selfishness !  But 
this  is  rarely  the  case,  where  the  chastening  hand  of 
Providence  has  not  been  laid  upon  us. 


166  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

If  you  receive  the  "  North  American  Review " 
now,  you  will  perceive  by  a  comment  there  is  in  it 
that  there  recently  has  been  published  a  valuable 
historical  sketch  entitled  "Tudor's  Life  of  Otis." 
The  comment  was  written  by  Mr.  F.  C.  Gray.  The 
work  is  a  credit  to  American  literature,  and  em- 
braces the  same  period  that  Bradford's  "History" 
did.  Mr.  Everett  has  attempted  something  like  a 
defence  of  Lord  Bacon's  character,  that  pleases  me, 
—  in  the  same  number. 

My  little  baby  doesn't  allow  me  to  do  a  great  deal 
of  writing,  and  I  believe  I  must  get  you  to  make  an 
apology  to  Sally  for  me ;  I  shall  write  to  her  before 
long.  Charlotte  and  Anne  Jean  go  to  dancing- 
school  and  Miss  Upham's  school,  and  appear  to  be 
very  happy  together.  Your  father's  family  have  not 
yet  left  Norwich,  nor  do  I  know  how  long  their  stay 
may  be  protracted.  I  saw  him  to-day,  and  he  told 
me  that  they  were  all  at  home.  We  had  our  little 
girl  christened  on  Sunday ;  her  name  is  Susan 
Inches, —  after  my  dear  friend  who  died  this  winter. 

I  find  a  great  accumulation  of  cares  growing  out 
of  my  new  acquisition,  and  I  do  not  find  proportion- 
ate increase  of  talents  for  the  demand ;  but  I  shall 
do  all  I  can. 

"  And  while  the  busy  means  are  plied, 
Even  if  the  wished  end's  denied, 
They  bring  their  own  reward." 

And  there  is  a  good  deal  of  pleasure  and  some  dig- 
nity in  the  occupation  annexed  to  bringing  up  a 
family  of  children,  notwithstanding  the  many  inter- 
ruptions incident  to  it. 


ON  THE  BENEFITS  OF  TRAVEL  167 

To  Miss  Forbes,  Aug.  3,  1823. 

Your  letters,  my  dear  Emma,  have  the  same  effect 
on  my  mind  that  animated  conversation  has  on  sur> 
jects  that  are  interesting  to  me,  and  always  inspire 
me  with  the  desire  to  make  an  immediate  reply ; 
but,  as  my  ability  and  inclination  do  not  always  go 
hand-in-hand,  I  am  frequently  obliged  to  deny  myself 
the  pleasure  I  so  much  covet,  until  the  inspiration 
goes  off  entirely. 

I  think  I  can  imagine  C.  and  yourself  comparing 
your  travelling  experiences,  and  enjoying  the  retro- 
spect they  afford  you,  much  more  than  you  could 
have  done  the  reality ;  and  that  I  consider  the  prin- 
cipal benefit  of  journeying.  The  enjoyment  is  not 
present,  but  past,  or  future.  There  is  much  satisfac- 
tion in  the  new  imagery  with  which  our  mind  is 
supplied  by  making  tours  such  as  you  ladies  have 
done,  and  nearly  as  much,  perhaps,  in  anticipating 
them  before  they  occur.  But  in  the  actual  experi- 
ence there  is  always  some  great  drawback  to  com- 
fort ;  it  is  either  too  warm,  or  cold,  or  too  dusty,  or 
too  rainy,  or  the  public  houses  miserable.  And  we 
are  all  such  sensualists,  that  such  things  diminish 
present  enjoyment  very  much,  though  in  contem- 
plating them  they  do  not  weigh  so  heavily. 

I  have,  after  much  urging,  been  drawn  in  to  con- 
sent to  go  to  Lebanon  for  a-  few  days ;  but  I  had 
much  rather  stay  at  home,  as  there  are  no  conven- 
iences for  babies  in  such  places,  and  I  cannot  go 
without  mine  very  well. 

You  know  we  have  a  prospect  of  a  new  literary 
institution  here  ;    but  I  have  not  been  very  sanguine 


168  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

in  my  expectations  in  regard  to  it,  and  therefore 
shall  not  be  disappointed.  I  dare  say  the  young 
gentlemen  engaged  in  the  enterprise  will  be  very 
much  disappointed.  I  never  knew  the  most  active 
and  resolute  parent  succeed  entirely  to  his  or  her 
own  wishes  in  regard  to  their  own  families,  when 
guided  by  the  best  wishes  as  well  as  judgment  that 
falls  to  the  lot  of  humanity,  added  to  that  strongest 
principle  in  human  nature,  parental  love;  and  there- 
fore I  do  not  expect  this  will  be  exempt  from  defects. 
I  know  of  no  human  institutions  that  are.  I  shall 
think  myself  singularly  happy,  if  the  proposed  plan 
is  no  more  defective  than  those  of  a  similar  kind 
which  have  been  so  long  in  use. 

In  regard  to  my  own  children,  I  mean  to  save 
myself  from  the  self-reproach  of  neglecting  them. 
Indeed,  I  have  ever  found  a  most  ready  alacrity  in 
their  service;  if  I  am  unsuccessful,  it  will  be  from 
an  inability  over  which  I  have  no  control,  and  the 
cause  of  much  sorrow.  But  I  will  not  add  the  antici- 
pation of  misery  to  the  reality. 

Don't  you  intend  to  come  and  see  us?  You  re- 
member Miss  F. ;  she  is  a  pretty,  interesting  creat- 
ure, full  of  energy  and  activity.     But  if doesn't 

speak  quick,  he  may  forever  after  hold  his  peace ; 
for  she  soon  will  be  picked  up  here.  Don't  you 
admire  the  sensible  choice  Mr.  Peabody  of  Spring- 
field  has  made?  You  probably  know  that  he  is 
really  going  to  marry  Amelia  White.  Young  Stur- 
gis  has  just  left  here;  he  seems  to  be  a  nice  young 
man,  but  not  extraordinary  as  I  expected.  There  is 
another  young  man  from  his  class  here,  who  is  a  fair 
match  for  him,  bv  the  name  of  L.     But  it  would  take 


THE  NORTH  AMERICAN  REVIEW  169 

half-a-dozen  such  to  make  up  the  loss  of  the  good 
and  wise  little  Bradford,  who  has  recently  left  us. 

You  have  heard,  I  dare  say,  that  Mr.  Harding  left 
his  wife  here ;  she  seems  to  be  a  good  little  woman, 
and  everybody  likes  her.  Some  people  are  very 
anxious  for  her  improvement.  I  am  not  particularly, 
for  I  think  she  stands  a  very  good  comparison  with 
the  majority  of  her  sex;  and  any  thing  that  would 
destroy  the  simplicity  of  her  character  would  take 
from  her  her  most  interesting  possession.  And  it  is 
too  late,  and  her  habits,  as  well  as  objects  of  inter- 
est, are  too  strongly  opposed  to  any  new  impulse  of 
mind,  to  make  it  reasonable  to  expect  any  great 
change  in  her. 

I  suppose  you  are  a  reader  of  the  "  North  Ameri- 
can Review,"  and  I  am  habitually,  from  the  avarice 
of  not  being  willing  to  pay  for  a  thing  without  deriv- 
ing some  profit ;  but  the  last  number  is  so  entirely 
out  of  the  channel  of  my  apprehension  that  I  could 
have  but  little  enjoyment  in  it.  I  was,  however, 
pleased  with  Dr.  Bradford's  notions  of  materialism. 
He  believes  as  much  in  craniology  as  I  do. 

I  hope  has  exhausted  the  seven  vials  of  his 

wrath  against  the  judges  of  the  Supreme  Court.  I 
am  astonished  that  the  editors  of  the  "  North  Amer- 
ican" should  allow  that  work  to  be  the  vehicle  for 
its  diffusion.  But  what  with  the  political  and  the 
theological  controversy,  which  has  become  very  stale 
and  tedious,  our  periodical  works  are  amazingly 
tasteless  and  wearisome ;  and  I  cannot  but  hope 
they  will  meet  with  a  change. 

With  love  to  all  friends,  your  affectionate  friend, 

Anne  Jean  Lyman. 


CHAPTER  X. 

It  is  sounded  through  the  land,  from  the  pulpit  and  the  press, 
that  Unitarianism  is  an  easy  religion,  that  says  little  about  sin,  and 
less  about  holiness,  and  lulls  its  disciple  in  a  dream  of  carnal 
security;  while  from  first  to  last,  in  its  doctrines,  and  its  precepts, 
and  its  spirit,  it  enjoins  the  acquisition  of  a  holy  character  as  the 
one  thing  needful. 

This  is  Unitarian  Christianity  as  I  understand  it.  A  faith 
whose  topics  are  the  mercy  of  God,  the  love  of  Christ,  the  duty  and 
immortality  of  man ;  a  faith  which  beholds  a  ladder  reaching  from 
earth  to  heaven,  as  in  the  patriarch's  dream,  along  which  the  influ- 
ences of  the  Divine  compassion  and  the  prayers  of  human  hearts  are 
continually  ascending  and  descending;  a  faith  which  links  time 
to  eternity  by  a  chain  of  moral  causes  and  effects ;  a  faith  which 
utters  its  woe  against  impenitence  with  a  heart-thrilling  pity,  which 
wins  souls  to  Christ  with  a  melting  tenderness ;  a  faith  which  sanc- 
tifies and  blesses  the  relations  of  daily  life,  which  takes  from  death 
its  terror  and  its  power,  and  supports  the  soul  on  the  arms  of  its 
hope,  till  it  is  borne  into  the  society  of  the  angels. — Ezra  Stiles 
Gannett. 

WHEN  my  mother  first  came  to  Northampton, 
she  found  but  one  church  there ;  and  the 
whole  village  united  in  their  interest,  or  lack  of 
interest,  in  the  spiritual  food  that  was  meted  out 
to  them  from  Sunday  to  Sunday.  The  whole  atmos- 
phere of  the  place  was  strictly  Calvinistic, —  and  the 
Calvinism  of  that  day  was  different  from  any  that 
prevails  in  our  time  in  New  England.  She  had 
been  accustomed  from  her  childhood  to  a  similar 
style  of  preaching  in  the  old  church  at  Milton  ;  but 


THE  RELIGIO  US  A  TMOSPHERE  1 7 1 

then  her  wide  culture  and  reading  of  liberal  books, 
her  occasional  Sundays  in  Boston,  where  she  had 
listened  with  enthusiasm  to  Buckminster  and  Chan- 
ning ;  and,  above  all,  her  association  with  pious  and 
devout  persons,  to  whom  "the  spirit  was  more  than 
the  letter,"  together  with  her  constant,  devoted,  and 
intelligent  study  of  the  Scriptures, —  had  inclined 
her  to  a  liberal  interpretation  of  those  doctrines, 
which  as  she  now  saw  them  enforced  in  North- 
ampton were  dry  as  dust  to  her,  hard  and  repel- 
ling; not  what  her  New  Testament  taught  her,  and 
not  what  she  wanted  to  have  taught  to  her  children. 

When  she  talked  with  my  father  on  this  subject 
of  vital  importance,  both  before  and  after  her  mar- 
riage, she  found  in  him  a  singular  agreement  of 
thought  and  feeling  and  conviction.  But  neither 
of  them  dreamed  of  quitting  the  Church  of  their 
forefathers.  Moreover,  my  father  explained  to  her, 
that  in  the  positions  of  public  trust  which  he  held 
in  the  country,  and  the  varied  relations  to  a  wide 
circle  in  which  he  stood,  it  would  be  most  unwise 
for  them  to  express  dissatisfaction  with  the  prevail- 
ing belief  of  their  neighborhood ;  that  they  must 
content  themselves  with  getting  what  good  they 
could  from  the  Sunday  ministrations,  and  where 
their  convictions  differed  from  their  neighbors',  they 
could  at  least  be  patient  and  silent. 

And  besides,  every  tie  of  affection  and  gratitude 
bound  my  dear  father  to  the  old  minister  of  the 
town, —  Parson  Williams,  as  he  was  always  familiarly 
called.  When  my  father  was  a  little  boy  of  eight 
years,  he  one  day  climbed  to  the  top  of  a  tall  tree 


172  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

to  witness  a  skirmish  that  was  going  on,  towards  the 
close  of  the  Revolutionary  War.  But  when  he  saw 
blood  flowing  he  became  giddy,  and  fell  from  his 
height.  He  was  taken  up  insensible,  and  it  was 
found  that  his  skull  was  fractured.  A  long  and 
anxious  time  followed,  when  he  was  nursed  by  his 
good  parents  with  devoted  care,  and  his  vigorous 
constitution  finally  triumphed.  But  he  recovered  to 
great  delicacy  of  health,  and  sensitiveness  of  brain  ; 
and  Parson  Williams,  who  had  been  devoted  in  his 
attentions  to  the  family  during  this  period  of  anxiety, 
told  his  parents  that  it  would  never  do  for  Joseph 
to  go  to  the  village-school  and  be  mixed  with  rough 
boys ;  and  that,  if  they  would  send  him  to  his  study 
for  a  few  hours  every  day,  he  would  teach  him  all 
he  was  strong  enough  to  learn.  So  the  little  boy 
became  the  daily  inmate  of  the  good  pastor's  study, 
and  his  rapid  advancement  astonished  his  teacher. 
One  day,  Parson  Williams  astonished  the  parents 
also,  by  appearing  before  them  to  say  that  Joseph, 
though  only  eleven  years  of  age,  was  perfectly  fitted 
to  enter  Yale  College ;  and  they  must  let  him  go. 
The  parents  demurred, —  they  were  poor,  and  it  was 
an  expense  they  could  not  meet,  they  thought.  But 
the  faithful  friend,  feeling  sure  that  the  fine  boy 
would  not  fail  to  repay  them  a  thousand-fold  for  all 
their  sacrifices,  did  not  leave  them  till  he  had  exacted 
a  promise  from  them  that  Joseph  should  be  entered 
at  Yale  College  a  few  weeks  later.  And  so  his 
mother  set  herself  to  work,  and  spun  him  the  entire 
suit  in  which  he  entered  college.  But  she  had  not 
time  to  knit  him  stockings,  and  so  he  went  barefoot. 


THE  GOOD  PARSON  WILLIAMS  173 

Mr.  Ellis,  in  his  beautiful  portrait  of  my  father's 
life,  in  the  sermon  preached  the  Sunday  after  his 
death,  says  of  him,  "That  the  little  barefooted  boy, 
being  found  prepared,  was  despatched  on  horseback, 
under  the  charge  of  an  elder  brother,  to  the  scene 
of  his  literary  labors.  The  miniature  collegian, 
whose  head  as  he  sat  upon  his  horse  hardly  appeared 
above  the  portmanteau,  was  kindly  received,  and 
went  through  the  prescribed  course  under  the  espe- 
cial care  of  one  of  the  tutors, —  Joel  Barlow,  it  is 
believed." 

My  father  was  through  life  one  of  the  firmest 
believers  in  an  over-ruling  Providence  ;  and,  in  his 
old  age,  I  recall  his  laying  his  hand  on  the  scar  in 
his  forehead,  where  the  fractured  skull  had  been 
trepanned,  and  saying  :  "  I  owe  to  that  fall,  under 
the  providence  of  God,  all  the  success  and  good 
fortune  of  my  life.  It  was  that  fall  that  attracted 
the  notice  of  our  good  Parson  Williams  ;  and  to  his 
efforts  with  me,  and  persuasions  with  my  parents,  I 
owe  the  fact  of  my  education,  which  fitted  me  for  all 
that  followed." 

My  mother  realized  all  my  father's  reasons  for 
personal  friendship  for  Parson  Williams,  and  she 
shared  them.  But  none  the  less  did  she  feel  the  cloud 
of  Calvinism  that  enwrapped  the  whole  valley  of  the 
Connecticut  in  spiritual  gloom.  The  phraseology  of 
the  pious  was  especially  distasteful  to  her.  In  revival 
times,  the  evidences  of  conversion  were  discussed, 
much  as  the  symptoms  of  a  fever  would  be  ;  and  the 
deep  things  of  God, —  the  soul's  union  with  Christ, 
the    "obtaining   a    hope,"    as    it    was    called, — -were 


174  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

bandied  about  without  reserve,  and  without  joy.  In 
infant  schools,  babies  wept  over  their  "wicked 
hearts  ;"  and  the  children  in  older  schools  were  sep- 
arated into  "sheep  and  goats,"  and  sat  on  "anxious 
seats."  If  they  died  early,  the  little  prigs  had  their 
memoirs  written,  in  which  they  implored  good  old 
people,  who  had  borne  the  burden  and  heat  of  the 
day  in  faith  and  patience,  "to  come  to  Christ." 

These  things  have  passed  by;  the  Orthodox  of 
to-day  would  feel  about  them  as  the  early  liberal 
Christian  did  then.  But  looking  at  my  mother  as 
she  was,  and  knowing  how  keenly  she  felt  them  all, 
I  can  only  wonder  at  the  patience  with  which  she 
bore  this  spiritual  regimen  for  fourteen  long  years. 

Had  she  lived  at  this  day,  her  far-seeing  mind 
would  have  recognized  the  deep  debt  of  gratitude 
which  all  New  England  owes  to  this  old-fashioned 
Calvinism ;  and  how,  stern  though  it  was,  it  was  like 
New  England's  rocky  soil, — -an  excellent  region  to 
be  born  in  and  to  have  come  out  from. 

As  it  was,  she  really  believed  —  and  events  have 
proved  her  in  the  right  —  that  the  doctrines  of  the 
Church,  as  then  taught,  often  made  infidels,  mate- 
rialists, and  scoffers,  through  reaction.  And  so  she 
fell  back  on  the  simple  teachings  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment, the  words  of  Christ;  and  her  open  mind  and 
untrammelled  spirit  experienced  an  untold  joy  in 
that  liberty  wherewith  Christ  makes  his  people  free. 
And,  though  tenacious  of  her  own  interpretation  of 
Scripture,  she  was  never  unjust  towards  those  who 
differed  from  her,  or  slow  to  do  full  honor  to  the 
religious  character,  wherever  she  saw  it  exemplified. 


CALVINISTIC  PREACHING  175 

I  suppose  she  may  be  forgiven  for  having  smiled 
during  one  of  Parson  Williams's  sermons  on  the  in- 
creasing luxury  of  the  times,  when  he  said  in  his 
broken  voice,  "  Some  attend  to  the  tylet  [toilette] 
and  others  to  the  piny  forty"  and  for  taking  it  off 
afterwards  ;  the  fact  being  that  our  own  old  English 
piano,  and  Madam  Henshaw's  spinet,  were  the  only 
musical  instruments  in  the  town. 

It  is  told  of  her  that  in  the  Sunday-school  class 
which  she  faithfully  taught,  during  the  years  that  she 
remained  in  the  Old  Church,  she  was  asked  by  one 
of  the  little  people,  "  Mrs.  Lyman,  where  is  Heaven  ?" 
She  put  on  her  most  solemn  aspect,  remained  silent 
for  a  moment,  then  in  impressive  tones,  with  long 
pauses  between,  answered,  "  It  is  neither  before 
you  —  nor  beliind  you  —  nor  above  you  —  nor  yet 
under  your  feet."  Then  with  a  rapid  transition  to 
a  lighter  tone,  so  characteristic  of  her,  she  said,  in- 
clining her  head  in  his  direction,  "Parson  Williams 
can  tell  you  the  exact  spot,  I  can't." 

In  the  year  1824  commenced  the  first  open  dis- 
satisfaction in  the  Old  Church  at  Northampton.  The 
liberal  families,  few  in  number,  were  yet  persons  of 
high  character  and  influence, —  my  father  and  Uncle 
Howe  being  prominent  among  them.  All  they  asked 
for,  was  the  privilege  of  hearing  some  ministers  of 
the  more  liberal  school  for  six  Sundays  out  of  every 
year,  and  this  privilege  the  vote  of  the  town  gave 
them ;  and,  at  the  settlement  of  the  Rev.  Mark 
Tucker  as  colleague  to  Parson  Williams,  it  was  well 
understood  that  this  would  be  the  case.  But  Mr. 
Tucker  declined  to  exchange  with  Mr.  Peabody,  of 


I76  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

Springfield,  and  other  liberal  preachers,  for  the 
allotted  six  Sundays  ;  and  my  father  and  Uncle 
Howe,  finding  remonstrance  of  no  avail,  at  last 
"signed  off"  from  the  Old  Church,  and  with  a  few 
families  who  shared  their  convictions  they  worshipped 
for  some  months  in  the  town  hall,  hiring  a  liberal 
preacher  to  minister  to  them.  That  it  cost  them 
something  to  part  company  with  old  friends  and 
neighbors  on  a  question  of  such  vital  importance, 
who  can  doubt  ?  Or  that  the  stigma  attaching  to 
their  views  was  not  hard  to  bear  ?  But  my  father 
and  Uncle  Howe  knew  what  they  had  undertaken 
and  why ;  and,  having  put  their  hands  to  the  plough, 
they  did  not  turn  back.  I  do  not  suppose  that 
women  of  the  ardent  temperament  of  my  mother 
and  Aunt  Howe  were  always  wise  and  judicious  in 
their  course  at  this  time,  although  I  never  heard 
that  they  were  not.  But  their  piety  was  as  strong  as 
their  convictions,  and  no  personal  bitterness  ever 
mingled  with  the  sorrows  of  the  change.  A  friend 
who  was  at  our  house  during  this  period  recalls  the 
glow  of  my  mother's  face  on  those  beautiful  Sunday 
mornings,  when,  having  finished  breakfast  with  the 
large  family,  she  called  on  Hiram  to  take  the  horses 
and  carriage,  and  go  to  the  outskirts  and  gather  up  a 
few  liberals  who  had  no  means  of  getting  into  town  ; 
then  busied  herself  to  collect  the  children's  silver 
cups  and  her  old  tankards,  which  she  gathered  into 
her  large  apron,  and  carried  to  the  town  hall,  to  pre- 
pare the  communion  table ;  how  she  dusted  the 
tabic,  and  then  tucked  her  apron  under  the  seat,  and 
looked   round   thankfully  on  the  little  audience  col- 


BEGINNING  OF  LIBERA  L  MINIS  TRY        177 

lected  to  listen  to  Mr.  HaU,  and  to  receive  the 
broken  bread  of  life, —  a  real  upper  chamber,  where 
"two  or  three  were  gathered  in  Christ's  name." 

It  was  during  this  year  that  she  wrote  the  follow- 
ing letter  to  Mrs.  Murray,  which  shows  that  her  Uni- 
tarian views  were  not  the  result  of  fancy,  or  love  of 
change,  but  grew  out  of  an  earnest  study  of  the 
Scriptures  :  — 

To  A/rs.  Murray,  July  1,  1S24. 

My  dear  Friend, —  I  have  received  your  kind 
letter  by  my  husband,  and  am  gratified  to  find  that, 
notwithstanding  the  lapse  of  time  since  we  saw 
each  other,  your  feelings  remain  unchanged.  I 
have  thought  it  probable  that  as  your  sons  advanced 
you  might  think  it  best  to  bring  them  here  for  edu- 
cation, as  the  most  approved  means  at  this  time  is 
among  us.  Mr.  Lyman  says  you  have  some  fears 
that  it  is  a  Unitarian  institution.  Let  me  inform 
you  that  there  is  nothing  of  the  nature  of  sectarian- 
ism belonging  to  the  school. 

Unitarian  parents  prefer  their  children  should 
accompany  Mr.  Bancroft  to  the  Unitarian  church, 
but  nearly  half  the  school  go  with  Mr.  Cogswell  to 
the  Orthodox  church.  This  subject  has  insensibly 
led  me  to  make  some  remarks  to  you  on  controver- 
sial topics.  In  my  opinion,  Christianity  does  not 
belong  to  one  sect  more  than  another ;  but  equally 
to  all  those  who  imbibe  the  spirit  of  Christ,  and 
adorn  their  lives  with  the  virtues  of  his  religion, 
whether  it  be  Baptist,  Methodist,  Unitarian,  or  Cal- 
vinist.     As    it    regards    myself,    I    think  speculative 


178  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

belief  has  but  little  to  do  with  the  religion  of  the 
heart.  We  are  told  that  the  devils  believe  and 
tremble.  But  their  belief  was  never  assigned  to 
them  as  a  virtue.  I  always  shall  concede  to  my 
friends  what  I  claim  for  myself,  the  right  of  inter- 
preting the  Scriptures  with  my  own  understanding, 
and  seeing  with  my  own  eyes,  instead  of  allowing 
others  to  see  for  me  and  interpret  for  me.  It  ap- 
pears to  me  that  Jesus  Christ  declared  himself  to 
be  a  being  distinct  from  God,  when  he  said,  "  This 
is  Life  Eternal,  that  they  might  know  thee,  the 
only  true  God,  and  Jesus  Christ  whom  thou  hast 
sent."  Again  it  is  asserted  that,  "Jesus  lifted  up 
his  eyes  to  heaven  and  said,  Father,  the  hour  is 
come ;  glorify  thy  Son,  that  thy  Son  also  may  glo- 
rify thee  :  as  thou  hast  given  him  power  over  all 
flesh,  that  he  should  give  eternal  life  to  as  many  as 
thou  hast  given  him.  And  this  is  eternal  life,  that 
they  should  know  thee,  the  only  true  God,  and  Jesus 
Christ  whom  thou  hast  sent.  I  have  glorified  thee 
on  the  earth ;  I  have  finished  the  work  which  thou 
gavest  me  to  do :  and  now,  O  Father,  glorify  thou 
me  with  thine  own  self,  with  the  glory  I  had  with 
thee  before  the  world  was."  Now  it  does  appear 
to  me  that  beings  so  represented  must  be  distinct ; 
that  the  one  imploring  a  favor  must  be  inferior  to 
the  being  who  is  to  grant  it.  What  does  our  Sav- 
iour say  when  accused  by  the  Jews  of  blasphemy, 
who  alleged  that  being  a  man  he  made  himself  God  ? 
In  his  answer  does  he  claim  the  attributes  of  Deity  ? 
I  think  he  defends  himself  from  the  charge  of  mak- 
ing himself  equal  with  God,  when  he  said,  "  Say  ye 


BASIS  OF  UNITARIAN  BELIEF  170 

of  him  whom  the  Father  hath  sanctified  and  sent 
into  the  world,  'Thou  blasphemest,'  because  I  said 
I  am  the  Son  of  God  ? "  To  my  apprehension 
Christ  disclaims  underived  power ;  he  says,  "  Of 
myself  I  can  do  nothing."  In  his  last  address  to 
his  disciples  he  says,  "  All  power  is  given  unto  me, 
in  heaven  and  on  earth."  When  one  asked  him, 
"  Good  Master,  what  good  thing  shall  I  do  that  I 
may  have  eternal  life  ? "  Jesus  said  unto  him, 
"  Why  callest  thou  me  good  ?  There  is  none  good 
but  One,  that  is  God."  In  this  expression,  I  think 
he  meant  to  disclaim  that  perfection  which  is  the 
peculiar  attribute  of  Deity.  I  think  our  Saviour 
disclaimed  omniscience  likewise,  when,  directing 
the  minds  of  his  disciples  to  the  Day  of  Judgment, 
he  declares,  "  Of  that  day  and  that  hour  knoweth 
no  man,  neither  the  angels  which  are  in  heaven, 
neither  the  Son ;  but  the  Father."  I  think  he 
means  here  to  express  that  he  was  ignorant  of  the 
Day  of  Judgment,  and  that  God  only  knew  the  pre- 
cise time  when  the  predicted  judgments  would  be 
inflicted.  Our  Saviour  has  said,  "My  Father  is 
greater  than  I."  He  was  at  the  time  of  this  decla- 
ration showing  his  disciples  the  sources  of  comfort 
which  opened  to  them  from  the  prospect  of  his  res- 
urrection, and  at  the  same  time  exhibits  to  them 
that  the  moral  purposes  of  his  reign  would  be  con- 
summated by  the  assistance  of  God  ;  and  closes 
his  subject  with  saying,  "  If  ye  loved  me,  ye  would 
rejoice  because  I  said,  I  go  unto  the  Father ;  for 
my  Father  is  greater  than  I."  "I  love  the  Father, 
and  as  the  Father  gave  me  commandment  even  so 


180  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

I  do."  Christ  evidently  here  speaks  of  himself  in 
his  most  exalted  character,  and  absolutely  disclaims 
an  equality  with  the  Father.  Christ  asserts  that 
he  is  the  messenger  of  God,  that  he  preached  not 
his  own  doctrines,  but  those  of  his  Father  who  sent 
him.  "  I  am  come  in  my  Father's  name.  I  am  not 
come  of  myself,  but  he  that  sent  me  is  true.  I 
proceeded  forth  and  came  from  God ;  neither  came 
I  of  myself,  but  he  sent  me.  My  doctrine  is  not 
mine,  but  his  that  sent  me."  Again  he  says, 
"When  ye  have  lifted  up  the  Son  of  Man,  then 
shall  ye  know  that  I  am  he,  and  that  I  can  do  noth- 
ing of  myself ;  but  as  my  Father  taught  me,  I  speak 
these  things.  I  have  not  spoken  of  myself,  but  the 
Father  who  sent  me,  he  gave  me  a  commandment 
what  I  should  say,  and  what  I  should  speak."  In 
a  prayer  addressed  to  his  Father,  our  Saviour  makes 
use  of  these  expressions  :  "  I  have  given  unto  them 
the  words  which  thou  gavest  me :  and  they  have 
received  them,  and  have  known  surely  that  I  came 
out  from  thee,  and  they  have  believed  that  thou 
didst  send  me." 

Jesus  Christ  directed  his  disciples  to  offer  their 
prayers  to  God  through  him  as  the  one  mediator. 
He  likewise  shows  himself  a  subordinate  being  by 
the  manner  in  which  he  addresses  his  God  and  our 
God.  "Jesus  lifted  up  his  eyes  and  said,  Father, 
I  thank  thee  that  thou  hast  heard  me ;  and  I  knew 
that  thou  hearest  me  always ;  but  because  of  the 
people  which  stand  by  I  said  it,  that  they  may  be- 
lieve that  thou  hast  sent  me."  When  oppressed  by 
personal    suffering,   he    says  :  "  O    my   Father,   if    it 


SCRIPTURAL  CHARACTER  OF  CHRIST      181 

be  possible,  let  this  cup  pass  from  me  :  neverthe- 
less, not  as  I  will,  but  as  thou  wilt."  "  He  went 
away  a  second  time,  and  prayed  saying,  O  my 
Father,  if  this  cup  may  not  pass  from  me  except  I 
drink  it,  thy  will  be  done."  When  crucified,  he 
said  of  his  persecutors  :  "  Father,  forgive  them,  for 
they  know  not  what  they  do."  "And  when  Jesus 
had  cried  with  a  loud  voice,  he  said,  Father,  into 
thy  hands  I  commend  my  spirit ;  and  gave  up  the 
ghost."  These  are  the  expressions,  not  of  Supreme 
Divinity,  but  of  a  being  dependent  and  actually 
suffering.  The  prayer  which  our  Saviour  taught 
the  disciples  is  addressed  to  God  the  Father  in 
heaven. 

You  will,  my  dear  friend,  perceive  that  in  this  let- 
ter I  have  aimed  to  prove  by  quotations  from  Script- 
ure :  First,  the  very  words  of  our  Saviour  himself, 
that  Jesus  declared  himself  to  be  a  being  distinct 
from  God  ;  secondly,  that  he  disclaimed  the  essen- 
tial attributes  of  Supreme  Divinity,  underived  power, 
omniscience,  and  absolute  goodness ;  thirdly,  that 
he  appeared  in  our  world  as  the  messenger  of  God, 
and  preached  to  men,  not  his  own  doctrines,  but  the 
doctrines  of  God,  who  sent  him  ;  fourthly,  that  Christ 
prayed  to  God  as  the  only  proper  object  of  worship, 
and  directed  his  disciples  to  offer  their  prayers  to 
God  through  him  as  the  mediator;  fifthly,  that,  hav- 
ing completed  the  business  of  his  mission  on  earth, 
Jesus  ascended  to  his  God  in  heaven,  and  there  re- 
ceived the  reward  of  his  obedience  to  the  Divine 
Will  unto  death,  even  the  death  of  the  cross. 

You  may  think    I   wish  to   convert  you  ;    but    my 


182  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

wishes  are  far  otherwise.  I  wish  to  convince  you 
that  a  Unitarian  derives  his  belief  from  the  Script- 
ures, as  you  do ;  and  thinks  reason  and  religion  are 
on  his  side,  as  you  do.  I  have  never  discovered 
that  Trinitarians  were  any  more  virtuous  for  tJicu 
belief,  or  that  Unitarians  were  any  less  so  for  theirs. 
Hence  I  draw  the  inference  I  commenced  with  in 
the  beginning  of  my  letter,  that  speculative  belief 
has  little  to  do  with  real  religion. 
Your  affectionate  friend, 

Anne  Jean  Lyman. 

It  is  doubtful  if  the  habit  so  common  at  that  time 
among  both  Calvinists  and  Unitarians,  of  quoting 
proof  texts  on  either  side,  ever  convinced  any  one. 
The  advance  in  thought  among  the  most  intelligent 
and  liberal  in  all  denominations  is  very  marked. 
The  issues  of  to-day  are  also  changed,  and  we  can 
but  hope  that  hour  is  coming,  when  the  "letter 
which  killeth,"  will  be  absorbed  by  the  spirit  which 
giveth  life,  and  the  true  believers  in  God  and  immor- 
tality, and  the  leadership  of  the  blessed  Master,  will 
forsake  all  minor  differences,  and  join  hands  for 
the  diffusion  of  these  inspiring  ideas,  without  hos- 
tility or  condemnation  for  those  who  cannot  accept 
them. 

Mrs.  Howe  to  Mrs.  Cabot,  Feb.  23,  1S23. 

My  dear  Eliza, —  ...  I  am  sorry  that  our  friends 
at  the  eastward  consider  us  cold  and  dilatory  on  the 
subject  of  our  society  ;  at  the  same  time  I  know  they 
cannot  be  aware  of  the  peculiar  difficulties  by  which 


UNITARIAN  SOCIETY  ORGANIZED  183 

we  are  surrounded.  .We  ourselves  understood  them 
when  we  commenced,  and  we  think  our  success  has 
been  beyond  our  most  sanguine  expectations.  Our 
friends  from  the  eastward  have  always  written  as  if 
they  thought  there  was  a  large  number  of  Unitarians 
in  this  town;  if  that  had  been  the  case,  we  never 
should  have  consented  to  the  arrangement  made  at 
the  time  of  Mr.  Tucker's  ordination ;  but,  in  fact, 
we  could  not  then  count  more  than  four  or  five 
males  who  were  heads  of  families.  When  we  deter- 
mined to  secede,  we  were  less  than  twenty ;  and 
when  Mr.  Peabody  preached  for  us  in  December,  it 
seemed  doubtful  to  us  if  we  could  procure  an  audi- 
ence of  fifty  persons.  It  must  be  very  obvious  to 
any  body  who  understands  pecuniary  affairs,  that 
such  a  handful  of  persons  could  not  have  built  a 
church  and  settled  a  minister,  unless  they  were  very 
rich,  which  we  are  not ;  or  else  very  willing  to  beg, 
which  we  are  not.  We  procured  Mr.  Hall ;  he  has 
preached  for  us  seven  Sundays,  and  three  Thursday 
lectures,  to  our  universal  acceptation  and  admira- 
tion. His  preaching  has  been  highly  appreciated, 
and  his  character  as  a  man  has  secured  our  respect 
and  regard.  In  the  meanwhile,  the  Calvinists  have 
done  everything  to  plague  and  thwart  us  that  they 
could.  They  have  not  scared  us,  but  they  have  tried 
to  ;  and  I  dare  say  they  have  sent  word  to  Boston 
they  have  succeeded.  But  no  matter,  facts  speak. 
Yesterday  we  organized  our  society  ;  about  fifty  per- 
sons associated  themselves.  Of  these  persons  not 
more  than  six  or  seven  can  be  said  to  be  in  easy  cir- 
cumstances ;  the  others  are  persons  who  supply  the 


184  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

wants  of  every  day  by  the  toil  of  every  day.  It  will 
be  obvious  that  the  principal  burden  of  expense  must 
rest  on  the  six  or  seven  first  mentioned,  but  they  are 
prepared  for  the  work  ;  and  all,  even  the  poorest,  have 
manifested  the  disposition  to  do  what  they  can.  A 
committee  was  chosen  to  build  a  meeting-house,  and 
the  money  is  to  be  paid  for  it  by  seven  individuals. 
Another  committee  is  chosen  to  make  arrangements 
with  Mr.  Hall  to  remain  with  us  permanently.  Of 
our  success  in  this  we  are  not  certain,  because  we 
know  that  his  talents  and  attainments  are  such  as 
entitle  him  to  a  better  situation  ;  but  we  intend  to 
make  him  the  very  best  offer  in  our  power,  and  it 
will  be  such  a  one  as  will  enable  him  to  live  com- 
fortably in  this  place, —  and  it  is  a  situation  in  which 
he  will  be  able  to  do  a  great  deal  of  good ;  and  as  he 
seems  devoted  to  this  object,  it  may  be  a  powerful 
inducement  with  him  to  stay  among  us.  I  should 
like  to  have  you  state  these  facts  to  Dr.  Channing, 
whose  opinion  we  greatly  reverence,  and  whose  ap- 
probation we  would  gladly  deserve.  We  hope  to 
have  him  preach  for  us  whenever  we  get  a  meeting- 
house. With  respect  to  "all  the  world,"  we  intend 
to  have  a  notice  put  in  the  paper  for  their  informa- 
tion and  satisfaction. 

On  the  subject  of  the  Calvinistic  zeal  which  you 
advocate,  I  must  say  I  greatly  differ  from  you.  I 
have  lived  among  Calvinists  twelve  years,  and  I 
often  have  had  them  inmates  of  my  house ;  the 
recollections  of  this  period  of  my  life  would  furnish 
me  well-authenticated  anecdotes  of  them,  which 
would  fill  a  volume.      I   have  sometimes  thought  to 


ZEAL  IN  RAISING  MONEY  185 

record  them,  but  I  feel  that  it  would  be  an  unworthy 
office,  and  that  it  is  far  better  to  forgive  their  in- 
juries, and  remember  their  extravagances  only  to 
avoid  them.  I  know  that  their  zeal  has  carried  them 
to  distant  lands  and  to  the  isles  of  the  sea  to  make 
converts,  and  that  it  has  enabled  them  to  endow 
their  theological  institutions  munificently ;  but  I 
know,  too,  that  it  has  in  most  instances  failed  to 
teach  them  the  more  difficult  duty  of  subduing  their 
own  hearts,  and  eradicating  their  own  bad  passions. 
And  I  know,  too,  that  much  of  the  money  bestowed 
on  their  favorite  objects  is  procured  by  foolish  and 
nefarious  means.  They  do  not  hesitate  to  beg  first 
in  the  parlor,  and  then  in  the  kitchen, —  first  of 
the  parent  and  then  of  the  child  ;  not  only  from  the 
wealthy,  but  they  will  urge  the  pittance  from  the 
"hard  hand  of  poverty."  They  will  do  what  is  worse 
than  all ;  they  will  go  to  the  bed  of  death,  and  seize 
in  God's  name  the  trifle  which  affection  would 
bestow  on  needy  relatives.  This  is  nothing  figura- 
tive,—  facts  bear  me  out  in  every  assertion.  This, 
and  more  also,  the  Calvinists  have  done  for  the 
Amherst  Institution.  They  have  hired  beggars  by 
the  day,  and  taken  subscriptions  of  twelve  and  a 
half  cents  from  those  who  had  not  the  change  to 
give.  If  Cambridge  would  do  this  for  its  institution, 
they  could  get  double  the  money  they  want  in  a  few 
weeks.  Hut  would  the  end  sanctify  the  means  ?  I 
scorn  to  see  such  conduct  under  the  mantle  of 
religion.  <  >ur  Saviour,  when  on  earth,  was  indeed 
poor,  but  did  he  beg  ? 

I  have  always  thought   it   a  great  privilege  of  true 


186  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

religion  that  it  united  so  readily  with  common 
duties,  and  I  will  not  allow  that  Unitarians  are 
inferior  to  others  in  discovering  its  effects  in  their 
lives ;  but  we  will  treat  especially  of  their  zeal. 
Surely,  you  have  distinguished  individuals  among 
you,  who  have  lent  their  whole  intellectual  existence 
to  the  cause  of  true  religion  ;  and  I  turn  with  pleas- 
ure to  my  good  friend  and  minister,  Mr.  Willard, 
who  has  stood  at  an  out-post  for  a  course  of  years 
—  rejected  by  his  brethren,  exposed  to  slander  and 
malignity  —  and  has  exhibited  a  firmness  of  purpose 
and  a  strength  of  principle  which  convinces  me  he 
would  not  shrink  from  the  fagot  and  the  stake  in 
supporting  his  Christian  integrity ;  and  the  young 
minister  whom  we  hope  to  call  our  own  gives  strong 
indications  of  the  same  character.  He  has  not  yet 
been  tried,  but  I  trust  he  will  be  able  to  pass  the 
furnace  of  Calvinism  without  blenching.  I  hope 
you  will  not  think  me  impetuous  on  this  subject ;  but 
I  have  dwelt  so  long  exposed  to  these  unholy  fires, 
I  have  seen  them  so  often  consuming  all  gentle  and 
sweet  affections,  all  noble  and  lovely  virtues,  all 
holy  and  heavenly  principles,  that  they  are  the 
objects  of  my  peculiar  aversion  :  no  crime  named  in 
the  Decalogue  brings  more  unpleasant  association  to 
my  mind  than  Calvinistic  zeal.  I  pray  that  we  may 
kindle  a  purer  flame,  that  it  may  burn  with  a  more 
equal  lustre,  that  it  may  enlighten  many  understand- 
ings and  purify  many  hearts,  making  them  fit  inhabi- 
tants of  that  heavenly  kingdom  which  is  the  object 
of  all  our  aspirations.  Do  not  think  I  mean  to 
be  indiscriminating  in  my  censure  of  Calvinists.     I 


EARLY  DA  YS  OF  THE  CHURCH  187 

know  that  there  are  those  among  them  who  fear 
God  and  regard  man  ;  but  these  are  not  the  persons 
who  are  continually  thrusting  themselves  forward  to 
relate  their  religious  experiences,  and  publish  their 
religious  donations.  True  piety  with  them,  as  with 
sincere  and  devout  Unitarians,  takes  a  more  quiet 
but  a  more  useful  and  honorable  course.  I  do 
believe  that  there  are  some  sanctified  hearts  among 
all  persuasions,  but  the  general  character  of  Calvin- 
ism seems  to  me  to  have  few  touches  of  the  spirit 
manifested  by  our  Lord  and  master.  If  you  know 
any  Calvinists  who  are  distinguished  alike  for  a  true 
zeal  and  an  enlightened  Christian  morality,  I  would 
thank  you  to  let  me  know  who  they  are,  for  I  should 
be  as  willing  to  respect  and  admire  them  as  you  are. 
I  feel  that  I  ought  not  to  tax  your  patience  with 
them  any  longer. 

Mrs.  Mills  has  always  manifested  some  impres- 
sions that  the  Calvinists  here  conducted  improperly, 
though  she  has  said  but  little  about  it.  She  at* 
tended  a  Thursday  lecture  here  before  she  went  to 
Boston,  and  I  think  hearing  Dr.  Channing  and  Mr. 
Gannett  did  her  good.  Nevertheless,  she  is  so 
shackled   here,    I    think    it  will    be    difficult  for   her 

to   come   over  to   us.      Mrs. has  for   the   most 

part  observed  silence  ;  the  Dwights,  too,  have  been 
very  silent,  and  have  been  at  our  meeting  at  an 
evening  lecture.  I  think  Charles  Sedgwick's  prac- 
tical illustration  of  Unitarianism  has  been  very 
serviceable  to  them.  Betsey  Chester  is  at  Weath- 
ersfield.  These  are  all  the  Calvinists  here  that  you 
care  anything  about.      We  feel  as  though  our  worst 


1 88  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

trials  were  over,  and  every  one  manifests  great 
pleasure  that  they  are  so.  If  we  only  can  get  Mr. 
Hall,  we  shall  be  secure  of  a  respectable  society  as 
well  as  a  good  minister.  He  came  this  afternoon, 
after  I  had  half  written  my  letter,  and  made  us 
a  social  visit,  and  was  very  easy  and  agreeable; 
in  this  respect  he  has  improved  very  much  since 
he  first  came, —  among  entire  strangers  he  appeared 
diffident  and  embarrassed.  But  that  has  passed 
away ;  though  he  is  a  truly  modest  man,  he  seems 
to  possess  the  social  turn  which  is  so  desirable  in 
a  minister.  You  do  not  know  how  attentive  all 
the  law-students  have  been  to  the  preaching.  I 
think  it  quite  an  object  that  young  persons  just 
entering  life  should  exhibit  such  a  disposition,  as 
I  do  believe  it  will  have  a  valuable  effect  on  their 
future  conduct. 

As  you  may  receive  my  letter  at  a  time  when  you 
are  not  at  leisure  to  read  a  volume,  I  think  I  hacj 
better  say  farewell.  With  love  to  your  family 
circle,  ever  affectionately  yours, 

S.  L.  Howe. 

It  will  of  course  naturally  be  seen  that  no  differ- 
ence in  the  forms  of  their  religious  belief  ever 
affected,  in  the  smallest  degree,  my  mother's  feel- 
ings towards  her  Orthodox  neighbors,  or  theirs  to 
her.  One  whom  she  reverenced  has  said,  "A  saint 
should  be  as  dear  as  the  apple  of  an  eye."  And  so 
they  were  to  her,  in  all  times  and  places.  One 
lovely  Christian  woman  in  the  Old  Church,  who  dis- 
tributed   tracts    every    six    months    through    certain 


A  CALVINISTIC  SAINT  189 

districts,  was  wont  to  call  at  these  regular  intervals 
on  my  mother,  some  years  after  our  church  was 
formed,  with  her  package.  She  would  make  a  long 
call,  talking  delightfully  on  many  topics  of  common 
interest,  and,  just  as  she  left,  would  drop  the  tracts 
in  my  mother's  lap ;  who  thanked  her,  laid  them 
quietly  in  her  mending-basket,  and  cordially  urged 
her  to  come  again.  It  was  somewhat  of  a  surprise 
to  me,  as  soon  as  Mrs.  E.  had  gone,  to  see  her 
gather  up  the  tracts  in  her  apron,  and  drop  them 
one  by  one  into  the  fire  ;  watching  with  a  peculiarly 
beaming  countenance  the  destruction  of  such  cheer- 
ful titles  as  "  Can  these  Dry  Bones  Live  ?  "  "  Sin- 
ners in  the  Hands  of  an  Angry  God,"  &c,  &c. 

Why  my  straightforward  mother  should  never 
have  told  Mrs.  E.  she  did  not  want  the  tracts,  and 
would  not  have  them,  I  could  not  see  ;  and  I  told 
her  so.  "Why,  my  dear,"  she  exclaimed,  "that 
woman  is  a  saint.  If  I  were  to  tell  her  that,  she 
would  stop  coming  to  see  me,  and  I  should  lose 
a  visit  I  enjoy.  She  thinks  she  is  doing  God  ser- 
vice in  bringing  me  these  tracts.  Let  her  think  so. 
I  am  sure  there  is  nothing  easier  than  for  me  to 
burn  them  up,  so  that  they  may  never  '  pison  the 
fountains'  in  this  house." 

The  establishment  of  the  Round-Hill  School  in 
1823,  and  of  the  Law  School  soon  after,  of  which 
Judge  Howe  was  the  head,  and  its  most  inspiring 
influence,  made  an  era  in  the  life  of  my  parents, 
from  which  they  dated  many  of  their  highest  social 
privileges.      The    coming    of    my    Uncle    and    Aunt 


190  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

Howe  to  Northampton  in  the  year  1820  had  been  a 
source  of  unmixed  satisfaction  to  both  of  them.  At 
last,  those  retired  and  admirable  lives  that  had  been 
gathering  strength  and  resource  among  the  quiet 
hills  of  Worthington  were  to  be  brought  into  closer 
intercourse  with  a  more  extended  circle,  and  to  taste 
the  delights  of  wider  influence  and  more  appreciative 
society.  Ah !  it  is  the  destiny  that  grows  as  life 
wears  on,  that  is  the  fine  one  !  And  yet  in  these 
latter  days  of  luxury  and  over-refinement,  we  grudge 
those  years  in  the  lives  of  young  people,  when  com- 
parative retirement  and  privation  and  exertion  are 
really  fitting  them  for  a  middle  age  of  highest  use- 
fulness and  enjoyment.  We  want  them  to  begin 
with  all  the  gathered  store  of  appliances  with  which 
we  end.     How  grave  a  mistake  ! 

The  two  schools  brought  to  Northampton  a  corps 
of  professors  and  teachers,  such  as  few  colleges  have 
ever  seen.  Messrs.  Cogswell  and  Bancroft,  who 
were  the  first  teachers  in  the  Round-Hill  School, 
were  the  first  in  this  country  to  exemplify  the  sys- 
tem of  the  German  Gymnasium  ;  and  all  their  ar- 
rangements were  made  on  a  scale  of  magnificence 
for  that  day,  which  soon  attracted  the  sons  of  the 
wealthy  from  all  parts  of  the  country.  In  the 
summer-time,  families  from  Virginia  and  the  Caro- 
linas  would  take  boarding-places  in  the  neighborhood, 
to  be  near  their  sons  who  were  in  the  school;  and 
my  father  delighted  in  his  rare  opportunities  for 
intercourse  with  some  of  the  choicest  spirits  of  the 
South.  For  the  Hamiltons  and  Middletons  and 
Draytons    and     Waynes,    with    many    others,    found 


THE  ROUND-HILL  SCHOOL  191 

themselves  soon  at  home  in  the  hospitable  house 
whose  front-door  always  stood  open  ;  and  from  the 
Law  School  came  daily  incursions  of  professors  and 
scholars,  whom  Mrs.  Burt  would  always  designate 
to  my  mother  (when  she  asked  from  the  nursery 
who  had  come  in)  as  "only  the  every-day  gentle- 
men." Among  these  were  Hooker  Ashmun,  George 
S.  Hillard,  George  Tyng,  Timothy  Walker,  Wm. 
Meredith,  Russell  Sturgis,  and  others.  What  a  con- 
stant and  pleasurable  excitement  for  the  grown-up 
sisters  and«cousins  this  society  made,  and  what  an 
entertaining  time  for  my  mother's  little  children, 
who  were  pets  and  companions  always  !  How  rarely 
we  ever  felt  that  we  were  put  to  bed  to  be  got 
out  of  the  way,  although  our  hours  were  early  and 
regular ! 


CHAPTER   XI. 

Happy  will  that  house  be  in  which  the  relations  are  formed  from 
character,  after  the  highest  and  not  after  the  lowest  order ;  the  house 
in  which  character  marries,  and  not  confusion  and  a  miscellany  of 
unavowable  motives.  .  .  .  The  ornament  of  a  house  is  the  friends 
who  frequent  it. — Emerson. 

T  TOW  full  to  overflowing  were  my  mother's  days 
1  [  at  this  period  of  her  life !  It  was  the  hey-day 
of  her  existence,  in  which  little  thought  of  self  came 
to  mar  her  absolute  enjoyment  of  Nature,  of  her 
family,  of  society,  and  of  choicest  friends.  Her 
perfect  health  made  her  life  of  activity  a  pleasure 
as  well  as  a  duty,  and  to  this  health  there  were  few 
interruptions.  During  the  months  preceding  the 
births  of  her  children  she  suffered  a  great  deal,  and 
as  her  strength  and  vigor  prevented  her  from  claim- 
ing any  immunity  from  care  or  exertion,  she  had 
not  the  rest  she  should  have  taken.  But  the  births 
of  her  children  were  the  slightest  possible  causes 
of  retirement  or  anxiety  in  her  case.  She  had  never 
a  physician  at  any  time, —  the  faithful  Burty  carry- 
ing her  through  these  occasions  with  excellent  care 
and  skill;  and  she  able  the  very  next  day  to  sit  up 
in  her  large  easy-chair,  with  her  mending-basket 
and  book  beside  her,  making  first  one  and  then  the 
other  her  pastime  for  some  hours  of  each  day.  One 
week  was  all  the  time  that  Burty  ever  could  succeed 


THE  NOONTIDE  OF  HER  LIFE  193 

in  keeping  her  in  her  room  ;  in  the  second  week, 
she  had  resumed  all  the  duties  of  the  house,  and 
was  driving  all  over  the  country  with  my  father. 
But,  in  all  her  cares  and  duties,  she  was  seldom  with- 
out the  invaluable  aid  of  my  father's  grown-up 
daughters  and  nieces. 

Doubtless  a  nature  so  vivacious,  and  a  life  so 
active,  experienced  reaction  enough  to  call  up  reflec- 
tive sentiment  whenever  she  wrote  letters  ;  for  these 
occasions  were  really  among  her  few  periods  of  com- 
parative rest. 

To  Miss  Forbes,  June  20,  1823. 

I  have  been  expecting  you  every  day  for  more 
than  a  fortnight ;  in  the  mean  time,  Dr.  and  Mrs. 
Gorham  have  passed  a  day  with  me,  and  were  dis- 
appointed that  they  could  not  meet  you  here.  I  was 
pleased  with  Mrs.  Gorham,  but  the  doctor  is  super- 
lative ;  I  liked  him  amazingly.  And  I  was  glad  to 
find  that  the  unfortunate  occurrences  of  his  family 
did  not  prevent  him  from  taking  his  wife  to  Niagara, 
as  well  as  to  the  other  curiosities  of  that  part  of  the 
country;  though  I  think  there  was  rather  a  cloud 
hanging  over  their  prospects  after  they  got  to  Can- 
andaigua,  but  it  had  passed  over  before  they  got 
here,  and  they  were  in  good  spirits.  I  was  sorry 
that  the  doctor  did  not  let  his  wife  go  to  the  moun- 
tain, which  they  ought  to  have  done  in  the  morning 
before  they  came  to  visit  me, —  for  you  know  the 
afternoon  is  no  time  to  look  on  the  western  view. 
But  1  took  her  upon  Round  Hill,  and  rode  around 
the  town  with  them  in  the  afternoon,  and  did  all   I 


194  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

could  to  prevent  their  losing  time  while  they  stayed. 
Old  Mrs.  Lee  came  here  a  few  days  since,  with  her 
grand-daughters,  from  New  York;  and  I  could  not 
help  hoping,  that  by  some  accident  you  would  hear 
of  them  and  come  at  the  same  time ;  but  now  I 
despair  of  seeing  you  at  all.  I  was  much  pleased 
to  receive  a  note  from  you  by  Mrs.  W.,  because  it 
gave  some  encouragement  to  my  hopes  that  you 
would  not  return  to  Boston  without  seeing  us.  I 
have  feasted  my  eyes  on  the  beautiful  Mrs.  Eliot, 
and  think  she  is  the  queen  of  beauty, —  in  our  hemi- 
sphere, at  least.  I  never  liked  her  husband  as  well 
as  I  did  this  time.  He  was  exceedingly  condescend- 
ing and  attentive  to  those  around  him.  She  ap- 
peared desirous  to  please,  but  her  countenance 
indicated  the  melancholy  reflections  that  had  so 
lately  had  possession  of  her  mind ;  you  know  she 
was  the  only  daughter  of  her  mother,  and  the  sub- 
ject of  her  idolatry. 

I  saw  John  a  few  days  ago,  and  told  him  that 
you  would  be  here  soon.  He  is  very  well,  and 
I  always  hear  is  doing  well.  The  gentlemen  on 
Round  Hill  have  certainly  made  very  great  efforts, 
and  they  have  been  accompanied  by  the  most  won- 
derful success  ;  which  is  not  only  fortunate  for  them, 
but  very  much  so  for  the  town.  The  instructors, 
too,  all  that  I  have  known,  have  been  of  the  highest 
order ;  and  I  think  their  method  is  greatly  calculated 
to  raise  the  standard  of  education  in  our  country.  I 
have  enclosed  an  account  of  it,  which  I  think  exceed- 
ingly clear  and  intelligible,  and  which  I  believe  was 
penned  by  Mr.    Bancroft. 


DETAILS  OF  HOME  LIFE  195 

To  Mrs.  Greene,  Sept.  10,  1S23. 

My  dear  Abby, — -You  know,  nothing  is  so  un- 
usual in  my  family  as  solitude,  or,  in  other  words,  as 
tranquillity ;  and  in  proportion  to  the  rareness  of 
our  blessings  we  prize  them.  I  hail  this  hour  then 
with  peculiar  gratitude,  for  it  is  a  temporary  exemp- 
tion from  care,  from  bustle,  and  from  company, —  such 
a  one  as  I  cannot  recollect  to  have  experienced  for 
more  than  three  months.  But  much  as  present 
objects  occupy  me,  I  always  find  time  and  occasion 
to  think  of  my  dear  Abby.  Your  last  kind  letter, 
together  with  Sally's,  gave  us  much  pleasure, —  as 
do  all  your  letters,  inasmuch  as  they  convince  us  of 
your  continued  health  and  happiness.  Happiness 
in  an  unusual  degree  I  always  knew  you  must  be  in 
the  enjoyment  of,  for  you  were  always  in  the  posses- 
sion of  a  well-spring  that  cannot  fail  you  altogether, 
though  it  may  be  subject  to  temporary  checks. 
Disciplined  feelings,  with  the  determination  to  bene- 
fit others  in  all  we  do,  must  insure  a  measure  of 
happiness. 

I  could  get  no  further  when  an  interruption  stayed 
my  hand,  and  my  letter  will  have  to  wait  another 
mail  before  it  goes. 

Charlotte  left  me  some  weeks  ago,  and  Harriet 
came  in  to  go  to  dancing-school  and  writing-school. 
I  was  very  sorry  to  part  with  Charlotte.  I  believe  I 
told  you  my  baby  was  named  Susan  Inches;  and  a 
lovelier  creature  I  never  saw.  Did  1  tell  you  in  my 
last,  that  on  the  first  of  October  Mr.  Cogswell  and 
Mr.  George  Bancroft  —  two  professors  from  Cam- 
bridge—  were  going  to  open  a  school  on  the  plan  of 


196  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

a  German  Gymnasium  ;  of  course  Joseph  is  to  be  an 
alumnus  of  the  institution.  It  proposes  to  teach  all 
that  is  taught  in  any  college  in  the  United  States. 
I  do  not  feel  quite  so  much  enthusiasm  as  to  the 
success  of  their  plan  as  many  others  do  ;  but,  at  any 
rate,  they  will  be  an  immense  accession  to  our 
society,  as  they  are  distinguished  for  their  learning, 
piety,  and  wisdom.  If  I  get  an  opportunity,  I  will 
send  you  their  prospectus. 

Emma  Forbes  is  staying  with  me,  and  has  just 
observed  that  she  wished  you  made  one  of  our  circle. 
I  never  can  cease  to  deplore  those  I  am  separated 
from  by  distance  and  by  death,  however  I  may 
appear  reconciled  to  it.  Present  enjoyment  will 
always  depend  much  on  our  retrospect  of  the  past, 
as  well  as  our  contemplation  of  the  future.  In  the 
former  — 

"  The  few  we  liked,  the  one  we  loved, 
A  sacred  band  !  come  stealing  on  ; 
And  many  a  form  far  hence  removed, 
And  many  a  pleasure  gone," 

must,  to  the  thoughtful,  impair  the  enjoyment  of  the 
present.  But  hope  —  that  anchor  to  the  soul  —  is  a 
partial  antidote,  and  enlightens  the  gloom  of  melan- 
choly reflections.  For  "fancy,  delusive  most  where 
warmest  wishes  are,"  arrays  the  future  in  the  colors  of 
the  rainbow  ;  and  we  are  deceived  by  it  so  gradually, 
that  it  is  imperceptible  to  our  dull  senses,  except  it 
relates  to  some  particular  object, —  such  as  a  favorite 
child  becoming  profligate,  or  a  near  friend  deceiving 
us.  Perhaps  the  enthusiast  enjoys  most;  for  enthu- 
siasm adds  an  imaginary  value  to  every  object  of  our 


BIRTH  OF  MRS.  GREENE'S  CHILD         197 

pursuit,  and  of  course  brightens  our  anticipations  in 
regard  to  it,  be  it  what  it  may.  .  .  . 

To  Miss  Forbes,  Oct.  19,  1823. 

I  have  written  this  much  concerning  the  Gymna- 
sium, because  I  knew  you  were  interested  in  its 
progress,  as  well  as  in  John.  We  have  a  clergyman 
now  preaching  for  us,  who  has  been  two  years  in 
Scotland,  studying  with  Dr.  Chalmers,  but  I  hope 
he  is  not  the  best  specimen  of  that  kind  of  educa- 
tion, for  it  was  the  whirlwind  in  comparison  with  the 
"sigh  of  evening  gales  that  breathe  and  die."  .  .  . 
Mr.  Hentz  has  dined  with  us  once  since  you  left  us ; 
he  made  particular  inquiries  after  you  ;  he  is  just  in 
that  state  when  youth, 

'Adds  bloom  to  health,  o'er  every  virtue  sheds 
A  gay,  humane,  a  sweet  and  generous  grace, 
And  brightens  all  the  ornaments  of  man," 

and  in  every  respect  makes  him  the  most  interesting 
youth  that  ever  was.  Thinks  Northampton  a  little 
heaven  below,  and  wishes  for  nothing  so  much  as  to 
make  it  his  future  residence,  which,  if  all  things  go 
well,  no  doubt  he  will  do.  .  .  . 

To  Mrs.  Greene,  Dec.  14,  1S23. 

It  is  unnecessary,  my  dear  Abby,  for  me  to  inform 
you  with  what  unmingled  sentiments  of  pleasure  and 
gratitude  1  heard  of  the  safe  arrival  of  your  little 
daughter,  for  you  must  have  observed  by  my  last 
letter  that  f  had  given  up  all  anticipations  of  such 
a  gratification.      I  have  a  realizing  sense  of  the  joy 


t93  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

and  gratitude  which  reign  in  your  heart  on  this  occa- 
sion. I  think  that  produced  by  the  birth  of  a  first 
child  is  something  of  a  more  elevated  and  exciting 
cast  than  anything  we  ever  experience  afterwards. 
We  feel  ourselves  called  upon  in  a  new  capacity 
which  we  never  realized  the  possession  of,  and  com- 
bined with  it  such  a  new  set  of  affections,  sensa- 
tions, and  anticipations,  that  it  in  fact  creates  a  new 
mental  existence.  But  beware  of  the  indulgence  of 
these  feelings  to  too  great  a  degree  ;  discipline  your 
heart,  and  fortify  your  mind  for  all  the  inequalities 
which  are  incident  to  human  enjoyment.  And  per- 
haps the  enjoyment  to  be  derived  from  our  children 
is  as  susceptible  of  interruption  as  any  we  have. 
But  uncertain  as  it  may  be,  I  can  attest  to  this  truth 
after  twelve  years  of  ordinary  experience  on  the  sub- 
ject, there  is  no  pleasure  or  satisfaction  in  human 
life  which  is  equal  to  that  afforded  to  us  by  our  chil- 
dren. There  is  a  constant  compensation  for  all  the 
care  and  sorrow  they  bring,  either  in  their  innocent 
playfulness,  or  their  intellectual  progress.  And 
there  is  a  pleasure,  too  (if  a  selfish  one),  in  the  idea 
that  they,  being  of  so  exalted  a  nature,  made  but 
little  lower  than  the  angels,  belong  to  us ;  we  derive 
from  it  a  new  importance,  a  new  self-estimation 
which  rewards  us  for  the  increase  of  duties  and 
responsibility  that  it  brings.  We  that  have  families 
may  look  around  us  and  say  to  ourselves,  In  the 
existence  of  all  these  dear  objects  we  are  identified; 
and  in  them  we  shall  leave  a  representation  of  our 
efforts  and,  if  we  have  any,  of  our  excellences. 

In   the  case  of  your  parents,  my  dear  Abby,  they 


ON  THE  COMFORT  OF  CHILDREN  199 

appear  to  have  but  one  thing  left  them,  and  that  is 
or  ought  to  be  a  rich  and  fruitful  source  of  comfort  to 
them.  For  I  know  of  no  people  more  blessed  in 
their  children.  I  presume  Mary  mentioned  to  you 
in  her  letter  that  Harriet  had  gone  to  Litchfield, 
where  she  will  have  the  benefit  of  Mr.  Brace's 
instruction  for  a  year,  unless  she  goes  to  you  in  the 
spring.  The  school  there  is  much  better  than  any 
we  have  here  ;  the  situation  otherwise  may  not  be 
as  good.  .  .  . 

Martha  is  quite  a  favorite  here ;  she  has  strength 
of  mind  with  great  originality,  and  much  more  im- 
provement than  you  could  anticipate  with  the  disad- 
vantages she  has  had  to  encounter.  She  reads  to 
me  every  day,  assists  Anne  Jean  in  getting  her  les- 
sons, and  explains  them  to  her  in  a  very  lucid  man- 
ner. Charlotte  has  a  fair  mind,  and  is  perfectly 
innocent  and  pure  in  all  her  thoughts ;  and,  if  I 
were  going  to  choose  a  friend  and  companion  for 
Anne  Jean,  I  do  not  know  where  I  could  find  one  so 
near  her  own  age  that  I  should  prefer  to  Charlotte ; 
for,  at  the  same  time  she  is  without  Anne  Jean's 
levity  of  character,  she  is  divested  of  her  vivid  fancy. 
But  they  mingle  with  great  interest  and  harmony  in 
each  other's  enjoyments.  ...  I  spent  the  time  I  was 
in  Westfield  at  James  Fowler's.  lie  and  his  wife 
had  just  returned  from  a  long  journey,  and  found 
their  youngest  child  dead,  and  were  very  melancholy  ; 
but  that  did  not  make  them  the  less  interesting  to 
me  ;  for  they  are  good  people  and  sensible  people, 
and  lead  pious  lives,  and  envy  nobody.  .  .  . 


200  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

To  Miss  Forbes,  Northampton,  March  21,  1824. 

"  Sae  I  gat  paper  in  a  blink, 
And  down  gaed  stumpie  in  the  ink, 
Quoth  I  before  I  sleep  a  wink, 

I  vow  I'll  close  it." 

Now,  my  dear  Emma,  nothing  short  of  a  resolu- 
tion equal  to  that  of  my  friend  Burns,  when  he 
uttered  these  lines,  could  tempt  me  so  far  to  absent 
myself  from  thoughts  of  present  emergencies  (of 
which  there  are  a  never-ending  succession  that  claim 
my  unwearied  attention)  as  to  undertake  to  write  a 
letter.  I  shall  never  again  wonder  at  people  who 
give  up  writing.  The  circumstances  which,  to  the 
head  of  a  family,  rise  in  opposition  to  it,  are  suffi- 
ciently formidable  to  justify  a  conscientious  person 
in  abandoning  it  altogether;  but  I  am  too  selfish  for 
that.  I  cannot  give  up  the  pleasure  I  derive  from  an 
intercourse  with  my  absent  friends  ;  and,  as  I  cannot 
purchase  letters  with  any  other  coin,  I  will  some- 
times tear  myself  from  the  imperious  duties  of  my 
family,  and  get  up  a  scrawl.  I  should  have  answered 
your  earnest  inquiries  about  the  Round-Hillers,  but 

thought  as  Mrs.  was  going  to  Boston  she  could 

tell  you  about  them  ;  and  as  my  account  would  not 
be  exactly  like  hers,  I  thought  you  had  better  hear 
her  first.  I  do  not  wonder  that  she  feels  as  she  does  ; 
yet  at  the  same  time  that  I  can  sympathize  in  her 
feelings,  I  cannot  think  with  her  about  the  gentle- 
men who  keep  the  school.  It  is  obvious  to  me  that 
they  are  conscientiously  bent  on  bringing  their 
scheme  to  the  highest  perfection,  and  that  all  their 
efforts  and  all  their  time  are  now  occupied  to  that 


THE  ROUND-HILL  SCHOOL  201 

effect.  They  say  that  no  boy  in  the  school  has  been 
more  assiduous,  or  has  improved  more  the  last 
quarter,  than  John  has  ;  he  attends  principally  to 
Latin  and  French.  Joseph  does  the  same,  with  the 
addition  of  Greek  and  English, —  the  latter  at  my 
earnest  entreaty.  Mr.  Bancroft  told  me  that  as  the 
days  became  longer,  and  the  children  got  more  ad- 
vanced in  the  languages,  they  should  pay  more  par- 
ticular attention  to  English  studies, —  which  is  the 
only  objection  that  ever  could  be  raised  against  the 
school.  From  what  I  know  of  other  schools,  there 
is  no  doubt  in  my  mind  it  is  far  superior  to  any  in 
our  country.  And  I  believe  with  such  materials 
they  will  make  John  both  a  good  man  and  a  scholar. 

Miss  C passed  an  evening  with    me  a  short 

time  since ;  she  said  she  thought,  with  the  exception 
of  four  or  five,  the  boys  were  uncommonly  stupid 
and  ignorant ;  and  I  think  her  opinion  to  be  relied 
on  as  unprejudiced.  But  when  I  reflect  on  the 
aggregate  of  society,  there  is  not  a  larger  proportion 
of  intelligent  people,  if  as  many,  as  four  to  sixteen  ! 

Are  you  not  glad  that  Mary  Bickard  is  going  to 
England  ?  She  will  be  a  loss  to  her  friends  here, 
but  she  will  more  than  compensate  them  on  her 
return  for  a  temporary  deprivation.  But  suppose 
her  friends  in  England  should  tempt  her  to  remain 
with  them  ?     I   am  sure   I   should  think  they  would. 

I  feel  very  glad  that  Edward  and  Ann  are  going; 
if  he  were  perfectly  well,  I  see  no  reason  why  they 
should  not  go  :  they  have  seen  but  little  of  the 
world,  and  as  they  are  divested  of  its  cares,  it  will 
enlarge  their   minds,   and  do    them   a   v"reat   deal  of 


202  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

good.  I  wish  I  were  going  myself,  but  I  believe  I 
shall  have  to  content  myself  with  remaining  sta- 
tionary. I  suppose  you  have  read  "  Saint  Ronan's 
Well."  I  think  it  the  poorest  thing  that  has  ap- 
peared in  print  for  many  years, —  that  I  have  read,  I 
should  add.  The  evil  always  has  been  a  serious  one 
to  encounter  such  people  as  prevail  in  that  book,  but 
to  be  called  on  to  contemplate  them  in  books  is  an 
unnecessary  evil,  and  therefore  more  intolerable 
than  our  actual  experience  of  them  ;  for  they  do  not 
seem  designed  to  contribute  to  any  moral  views.  In 
short,  the  author  does  not  appear  to  have  any  end  in 
view,  but  to  string  together  the  shreds  and  patches 
of  his  imagination  that  nothing  may  be  lost ;  and 
there  is  an  avarice  in  it  that  I  don't  like.  I  have 
lived  among  the  Indians  lately.  I  have  been  read- 
ing Heckwelder's  account  of  them.  He  found  a 
great  many  Yamoydens  among  them  during  his  forty 
years'  residence  in  their  society.  I  am  now  reading 
what  you  must  get  and  read  —  Mr.  Bancroft's  trans- 
lation. 

To  Mrs.  Greene,  April  27,  1S24. 

Three  years  have  elapsed  since  we  parted ;  in 
that  time  I  have  had  much  satisfaction  from  con- 
templating you  in  the  enjoyment  of  a  great  many 
calm  and  rational  pleasures,  such  as  only  the  well- 
balanced  and  rational  mind  can  enjoy.  And  the 
pain  of  separation  has  been  much  mitigated  to  me 
by  the  belief  that  you  have  been  withdrawn  from 
sorrows  which  would  have  pierced  your  heart  had 
you  been  here, —  though  your  presence  could  not 
have  had  the  effect  to  remove  them.  .  .  . 


ON  THE  EFFECT  OF  MATRIMONY         203 

You  know   is  peculiarly  susceptible   of  the 

influence  of  those  around  her,  and  if  she  could  al- 
ways live  with  good  people  she  would  always  be 
good ;  and  the  reverse  is  equally  true.  .  .  .  Now,  you 
know  no  one  more  cordially  approves  of  matrimony 
than  I  do.  I  think  it  is  the  effect  of  an  interest  in 
domestic  duties  to  strengthen  our  virtues,  to  enlarge 
our  benevolence,  and  to  concentrate  our  good  affec- 
tions;  it  helps  to  a  sound  judgment  and  right-bal- 
ancing of  things,  and  assists  in  giving  integrity  and 
propriety  to  the  whole  character.  But  this  cannot 
be  the  case  unless  there  is  something  to  engraft 
upon,  and  unless  the  union  consists  of  materials  cal- 
culated to  foster  the  growth  of  such  principles.  .  .  . 

My  sister  C.  divided  the  winter  between  Mrs. 
Howe  and  myself;  and  I  am  just  now  quite  afflicted 
to  be  obliged  to  part  with  her,  but  it  is  unavoidable. 
She  diffuses  most  salutary  influences  on  all  those  who 
come  within  her  sphere.  She  is  always  happy  her- 
self to  a  certain  degree,  because  she  lives  in  the  culti- 
vation of  unfailing  resources  of  a  purely  intellectual 
character,  such  as  have  no  dependence  on  artificial 
excitements  or  dissipation  of  time  for  their  basis. 

I  have  been  reading  lately  such  trash  as  "  Adam 
Blair,"  "Reginald  Dalton,"  and  "The  Spae  Wife," 
and  got  a  little  entertainment,  if  not  instruction, 
from  them ;  and,  for  better  aliment,  Mr.  Sparks's 
Tracts  and  "The  Christian  Examiner."     Adieu! 

To  Miss  Forbes,  Oct.  23,  1S24. 

I  am  perfectly  astonished  that  Mr.  II.  should 
have  made  so  wise  a  choice.     Mrs.   Ii.   certainly  ap- 


204  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

pears  like  an  uncommonly  rational  woman,  is  very 
interesting  in  her  manners,  and  I  should  judge 
would  prove  every  thing  such  a  thriftless  man  would 
want  in  regard  to  economy.  She  dresses  herself 
with  great  neatness  and  good  taste,  contrary  to  my 
expectations  ;  and  all  who  have  seen  her  are  much 
pleased  with  her. 

I  have  had  a  short  but  delightful  visit  from  Miss 
Sedgwick.  She  is  indeed  a  most  excellent  charac- 
ter, and  has  all  the  requisites  for  making  herself 
agreeable  to  every  class  of  society,  and  seems  to  be 
equally  beloved  by  all  the  different  ranks  with  whom 
she  mingles.  I  am  sure  I  wish  there  were  more  like 
her  in  the  world ;  but  they  are  so  rare  that  she  may 
be  said  almost  to  be  a  unique.  It  is  really  wonder- 
ful that  two  such  women  as  herself  and  Mrs.  Theo- 
dore Sedgwick  should  have  fallen  to  the  lot  of  one 
family.  If  Mr.  Minot  had  not  lost  his  house  by 
fire,  Miss  Sedgwick  would  have  made  a  long  visit  in 
Boston  this  autumn.  I  am  sure  I  am  very  sorry  she 
did  not.  I  think  she  would  be  a  more  operative 
leaven  in  that  society,  than  in  New  York. 

To  Mrs.  Greene,  Nov.  24,  1S24. 

I  have  neglected  to  describe  my  New  Bedford 
friend,  Miss  Rotch,  to  you  ;  though  I  intended  to 
do  it  at  length,  when  I  commenced,  hoping  to  com- 
municate to  you  some  of  the  pleasure  she  afforded 
me  by  her  society.  But  now  I  could  not  do  her 
justice,  and  will  not  attempt  it,  more  than  to  say 
she  was  born  and  educated  in  England  as  an  enlight- 
ened   Quaker ;    is    a   speaker   of   great    and    distin- 


ON  CONSTANCY  OF  AFFECTION  205 

guished  eloquence  among  her  adherents,  and  is 
rendered  peculiarly  interesting  by  great  personal 
beauty. 

To  Miss  Forbes,  Jan.  12,  1S24. 

You    recollect   my  old  favorite  among  the  young 

men,  .     He  settled  in  Springfield  on  purpose  to 

court ,  whom  he  fell  in  love  with  at  first  sight, 

at  a  Fourth  of  July  party  in  this  town.  The  sequel 
is,  that,  after  being  engaged  to  him  a  year,  she  has 
gone  to  New  York,  seen  somebody  she  likes  better 

and  turned  poor  adrift.      So  much  for  being  a 

butterfly  instead  of  a  woman.  What  do  you  think 
of  such  pliable  affections,  as  well  as  morality  ?  At 
any  rate,  such  things  have  the  sanction  of  fashion 
to  authorize  them.  I  presume  it  will  not  injure  the 
lady  in  anybody's  estimation  but  mine  and  two  or 
three  such  antiquated  lovers  of  constancy. 

The  foregoing  letter  was  discovered  by  my  father 
on  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day,  the  12th;  and  he 
hastened  to  announce  with  pious  gratitude  the  birth 
of  his  eleventh  and  last  child,  Catherine  Robbins. 

January  12th.  I  found  the  foregoing  letter  in  its 
present  state  this  afternoon.  I  now  have  the  pleas- 
ure to  announce  to  you  the  birth  of  a  beautiful 
daughter.  Rejoice  with  me,  my  dear  Emma,  and 
render  praise  to  the  Author  of  every  good  and  per- 
fect gift.  And  let  all  our  friends  unite  with  us. 
In  haste,  I  am  truly  your  friend, 

Joseph  Lyman. 


206  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

How  sure  were  all  the  family  friends  to  write  to 
Cousin  Emma  of  every  event  that  occurred,  whether 
of  joy  or  sorrow,  certain  that  she  would  feel  them 
all  in  her  heart  of  hearts.  Madame  Recamier's 
biographer  says  of  her  that  she  had  "the  genius  of 
sympathy."  And  so  had  this  dear  friend,  in  an 
almost  unequalled  degree.  Can  we  ever  forget  the 
glow  of  her  expression,  the  glistening  of  her  eye, 
the  pressure  of  her  hand  ?  Will  any  one,  who  was 
a  little  child  then,  ever  forget  the  tone  in  which  she 
said  "My  love"?  Our  dear  Lizzie  Ware  used  to 
say  of  her,  that  she  was  equally  at  home  in  a  palace 
or  a  hovel.  And  so  she  was,  for  the  depth  and 
warmth  of  her  sympathy  led  her  for  the  moment  to 
put  herself  wholly  in  the  place  of  each. 

In  February  of  1825,  Cousin  Emma  decided  to 
go  to  Europe,—  a  trip  far  less  frequently  taken  than 
now;  and  the  cousins  joyfully  gave  her  a  God-speed 
over  the  wide  waters. 

Mrs.  Howe  to  Miss  Forbes,  Northampton,  Feb.  25,  1825. 

My  dear  Emma, — -  As  I  hear  you  are  going  over 
the  great  water,  I  must  write  a  few  words  to  bid 
you  God-speed.  A  thousand  interesting  objects 
present  themselves  to  my  mind  when  I  think  of 
such  a  voyage;  if  I  were  young  and  without  care, 
it  were  the  thing  of  all  others  that  I  should  delight 
in  ;  as  it  is,  I  have  neither  the  wish  nor  the  hope  of 
ever  undertaking  it.  But  when  you  are  in  the  far, 
foreign  land,  I  wish  you  would  now  and  then  look 
at  things  with  my  eyes,  so  as  to  bring  me  home 
pictures   of   them.     I    mean  the  eyes  of  my  under- 


MRS.  HOWE'S  LETTER  ON  TRAVEL        207 

standing.  Many  things  would  delight  me,  but  of 
all  God's  works  there  is  nothing  I  love  like  his 
human  creatures.  You  will  see  Walter  Scott  —  the 
person  who  has  given  me  more  pleasure  than  any 
one  living  whom  I  never  have  seen.  Leave  not  a 
hair  of  his  head  unscanned,  and  if  you  can  get  his 
barber  to  save  a  hair  that  he  combs  out,  for  me,  I 
will  put  it  up  with  the  single  one  I  have  of  General 
Washington. 

I  hope  you  will  see  Mrs.  Grant ;  I  should  like  to 
know  if  she  retains  the  warm  affections  of  her  youth, 
now  that  she  is  in  the  vale  of  years.  If  you  go  to 
Dumfries,  you  will  see  Burns's  monument,  and  that 
living  monument  of  him,  his  Jean.  You  will  see 
other  people,  I  dare  say,  whom  the  literary  annals 
of  the  last  twenty  or  thirty  years  have  made  famil- 
iar;  and  I  would  set  down  in  my  journal  the  impres- 
sions they  make,  as  you  go  along,  lest  hurrying 
from  place  to  place  should  drive  valuable  ideas  from 
your  mind.  It  requires  great  industry  and  effort 
to  keep  a  journal  when  travelling;  but  you  will  do 
it,  because  it  will  be  a  treasure  when  the  cares  of 
the  world  have  blotted  some  interesting  recollec- 
tions from  your  memory.  What  a  store  you  will 
lay  up  for  future  entertainment  for  your  friends, 
and  how  much  you  will  enlarge  the  compass  of  your 
own  thoughts  !  Next  to  celebrated  human  beings, 
beautiful  natural  scenery  is  the  most  interesting 
thing  to  see  in  foreign  lands  ;  you  will  feel  this 
beauty  in  a  high  degree.  Milton  Hill  is  a  fair 
school  for  the  cultivation  of  taste  in  that  depart- 
ment.     Our    own    favored    land    is    rich    in    natural 


208  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

beauty,  but  we  have  not  the  wonders  of  art,  the 
beautiful  buildings,  the  rich  paintings,  the  curious 
machinery,  which  you  will  visit.  Pray  be  all  eye 
and  all  ear,  for  there  will  be  hungry  expectants  on 
this  side  of  the  water  for  the  treasures  your  senses 
are  to  collect  for  you. 

You  will  see  Mary  Pickard ;  how  welcome  you 
will  be  to  her !  But,  perhaps,  unlucky  chances  may 
prevent  this  meeting.  You  will  carry  friends  with 
you,  so  that  you  cannot  be  desolate ;  and  may  your 
voyage  cheer  drooping  spirits,  and  give  all  the  sat- 
isfaction which  you  hope  for  from  it !  I  give  the 
warning  Mary  Revere  gave  to  Mary  Pickard  :  do 
not  let  any  foreign  knight-errant  detain  you  from 
your  country  and  your  friends  ;  this  is  the  land  of 
liberty  and  of  plenty ;  it  gave  you  birth,  and  I  hope 
it  may  crown  your  gray  hairs  with  countless  blessings. 

Susan  joins  me  in  affectionate  wishes.  I  never 
see  John.  Round  Hill  is  a  monastery,  and  the 
inhabitants  never  mingle  with  others.  I  dare  say 
he  has  written  to  you,  to  bless  your  path  over  the 
waves. 

We  are  all  pleased  and  happy  that  our  new  society 
is  formed,  and  that  we  are  to  have  a  new  meeting- 
house ;  this  is  the  only  news  I  have  for  you. 

Fare  you  well !  If  the  prayer  of  friendship  will 
guide  you  in  safety,  it  shall  be  yours. 

S.  L.  Howe. 

Mrs.  Lyman  to  Miss  Forbes,  Northampton,  Feb.  23,  1S25. 

My  dear  Emma, —  How  truly  in  the  spirit  of 
a  heroine  it  is  for  you  to  go  to  England ;  and  yet 


LITTLE  CA  THERINE  AND  SUSAN  209 

I  never  heard  of  your  imagining  such  a  thing  in 
your  most  romantic  visions  of  the  future.  I  am 
glad  it  is  so,  and  half  envy  you  the  privilege.  It 
will  furnish  your  mind  with  a  great  deal  of  new 
imagery,  and  you  will  ever  after  find  your  views 
enlarged  both  of  people  and  things,  as  well  as  your 
imagination  enriched.  To  a  well-balanced  mind 
every  thing  turns  to  account,  because  all  the  variety 
of  circumstances  which  occur  to  it  receives  a  right 
direction,  and  teaches  us  to  draw  from  them  a 
moral  influence.  Then  you  are  favored,  my  dear 
Emma,  in  this  means  of  doing  yourself  and  friends 
good. 

I  have  had  nothing  peculiarly  pleasurable  in  the 
events  of  the  past  winter.  But  now  that  the  time 
is  consumed,  I  have  much  to  contemplate  which 
excites  gratitude  and  affords  satisfaction,  and  the 
result  of  which  I  believe  would  compensate  for  a 
great  deal  more  trouble  than  I  have  had.  Don't 
you  wish  you  could  see  little  Catherine,  whom  every- 
body acknowledges  to  be  the  prettiest  creature  that 
ever  was  seen,  for  six  weeks  old  ?  Susan,  too,  is 
a  good  little  kitten,  and  moreover  looks  well ;  Mrs. 
Burt  is  spoiling  her  as  fast  as  she  possibly  can. 
I  shall  try  one  of  these  days  to  rescue  her  ;  but  at 
present  let  her  entirely  alone,  not  thinking  it  worth 
while  to  spend  my  strength  governing  a  child  of  her 
age, —  though  I  dare  say  Mr.  Everett's  and  Mr. 
Norton's  children  (of  the  same  age)  are  little  phi- 
losophers at  this  time. 

Mr.  Bancroft  is  a  very  frequent  visitor  here;  but 
Mr.  Cogswell  I  never  see.     I  believe  he  thinks  I  had 


210  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

some  hand  in  a  lampoon  which  Mrs.  Howe  wrote, 
and  which  I  think  has  been  of  vast  service  to  him, 
or  rather  to  the  school. 

There  are  but  two  or  three  children  equal  to  John 
in  the  school.  Mr.  G.  says  he  never  saw  so  many 
ordinary  children  collected  in  one  institution,  and  he 
should  not  have  thought  it  possible. 

I  do  not  allow  myself  to  be  much  excited  by  our 
religious  affairs.  The  town  meeting  is  over,  and  a 
division  has  taken  place,  and  a  meeting-house  is  to 
be  built. 

[The  remainder  of  this  letter  is  lost.] 

Mrs.  Howe  to  Miss  Forbes,  Northampton,  Nov.  16,  1825. 

My  dear  Emma, —  With  heartfelt  pleasure  I  wel- 
come you  to  your  native  land,  and  sympathize  in  the 
pleasure  and  gratitude  you  must  feel  in  once  more 
finding  yourself  safe  on  terra  firma.  I  heard  of 
your  arrival  by  a  gentleman  from  New  York,  before 
you  reached  Boston,  and  it  was  a  real  relief  to  me; 
for  I  had  begun  to  be  a  little  fidgety  about  you, 
having  heard  that  you  sailed  the  last  of  September. 
I  conjectured  you  must  have  blown  off  to  the  West 
Indies,  in  a  south  gale  we  had  the  last  of  October, 
or  some  such  unexpected  and  undesired  cause  of 
detention  ;  but  here  you  are  once  more  among  us, 
and  with  a  mind  and  imagination  stored  with  a 
thousand  delightful  things  that  will  remain  with  you 
as  long  as  you  live,  while  the  inconveniences  you 
have  suffered  will  soon  be  forgotten,  or  remembered 
only  for  their  moral  uses.  I  thank  you  for  your 
letter  ;  it  is  a  treasure  to  me.      It  reached  me  in  one 


FRIENDSHIP  WITH  MRS.  HENTZ  211 

of  those  unhappy  hours,  when  I  was  trembling  for 
the  life  of  my  clear  Catherine.  I  will  not  dwell  on 
the  scenes  past  at  Milton  ;  the  recollection  is  yet  so 
fresh  and  so  painful,  that  I  would  gladly  find  a  more 
cheerful  subject.  But  I  know  they  should  be  re- 
membered with  gratitude,  that  those  dear  to  us  were 
spared  and  restored  after  all  their  sufferings  and 
danger.  Your  mother  was  the  greatest  assistance 
and  comfort  to  us, —  indeed,  I  believe  she  was,  under 
God,  the  means  of  preserving  Catherine's  life,  when 
in  the  greatest  peril. 

I  have  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  in  Mrs.  Hentz ; 
she  is  more  like  some  of  my  old  friends  than  any 
new  acquaintance  I  have  made  since  I  came  to  the 
Connecticut  River.  She  has  always  lived  near  me, 
until  to-day  they  have  removed  into  a  house  Mr. 
Hentz  has  lately  purchased  in  King  Street.  It  is 
very  snug  and  in  good  repair,  and  I  think  they  will 
enjoy  a  house  of  their  own  very  much.  Mrs.  Hentz 
has  met  with  quite  a  trial,  in  being  obliged  to  put 
her  baby  out  to  nurse.  He  was  too  feeble  to  remain 
with  her,  and  she  could  not  accommodate  him  with 
a  healthy  nurse  nearer  than  the  top  of  Chesterfield 
Hill,  which  seems,  at  least,  as  formidable  to  her  as 
you  found  any  of  the  Welsh  mountains.  You  have 
enough  baby-enthusiasm  to  realize  this  privation. 

Mrs.  Lyman's  children  have  been  ill  all  summer, 
but  are  now  well.  C.  is  just  the  beautiful  creature 
you  saw  S.  two  years  ago  ;  and  S.  is  beautiful  as  an 
angel,  and  goes  to  school  and  learns  her  letters. 

I  long  to  see  you  and  "hear  your  cracks;"  but  it 
must  be  here,  I  believe,  for  I  am  stationary  for  the 


212  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

winter,  at  least.  When  can  you  come  ?  I  saw  John 
on  Sunday,  and  told  him  of  your  arrival.  Mr.  Howe 
is  away  holding  court,  or  he  would  send  his  love  to 
you.  Susan  is  well,  and  sends  her  love.  My  young 
folks  are  all  fat  and  saucy.  I  go  to  my  new  house 
in  a  fortnight,  and  am  busy  making  preparation. 
Remember  me  affectionately  to  your  mother  and  the 
little  girls. 

Yours  ever,  with  true  affection, 

S.  L.  Howe. 

Mrs.  Lyman  to  Miss  Forbes,  Northampton,  Dec.  S,  1825. 

My  dear  Emma, —  Ever  since  your  return,  I  have 
had  it  in  my  heart  to  congratulate  you  on  having 
crossed  and  recrossed  the  Atlantic,  but  I  have  had 
no  kind  of  control  of  my  time.  My  baby  has  occu- 
pied me  day  and  night  since  Sally  Woodard  left  me, 
and  Mrs.  Burt  fell  into  her  place;  added  to  that,  I 
have  been  a  great  sufferer  with  the  teeth-ache. 
I  am  sure  nothing  could  give  me  a  more  lively  sen- 
sation of  pleasure  than  beholding  you.  At  the  same 
time  that  I  should  see  my  dear  Emma,  with  the 
same  heart  and  feelings  she  used  to  have,  I  should 
find  her  head  arrayed  in  a  great  deal  of  new  furni- 
ture, and  her  conversation  adorned  with  a  great 
deal  of  new  imagery,  which  would  be  very  delight- 
ful to  me.  I  would  not  allow  you  to  say  one  word 
of  present  subjects,  except  as  comparing  them  with 
your  past  experience.  I  am  happy  to  say  that  I 
have  not  one  unpleasant  sensation  in  hearing  people 
say,  "When  I  was  in  Europe."  Having  my  friends 
go  there,  and   communicate   to   me   what  they  have 


A   YEAR  OF  SICKNESS  AND  ANXIETY     213 

seen,  is  the  only  compensation  I  have  for  the  abso- 
lute certainty  that  I  shall  never  see  it  myself.  Your 
letter,  written  in  Scotland,  I  can  never  sufficiently 
thank  you  for.  It  came  at  a  time  when  I  most 
needed  something  to  withdraw  my  attention  from 
present  suffering. 

The  last  year  has  been  the  most  trying  one  of 
my  life,  as  it  respects  sickness,  care,  and  anxiety. 
Until  within  a  month,  I  never  have  known  a  single 
night  of  unbroken  rest  for  a  year, —  a  circumstance 
which  tends  very  much  to  shatter  both  the  nerves 
and  the  understanding.  For  more  than  two  months, 
I  was  in  the  daily  anticipation  of  the  death  of  one 
of  our  family  at  a  distance,  besides  contemplating 
sick  children  at  home  ;  and  I  think  it  has  all  com- 
bined to  make  me  about  sixty  years  old.  Now,  I 
don't  know  of  any  thing  that  can  make  me  younger 
but  having  Catherine  and  you  jump  into  the  stage, 
and  come  up  here  and  make  me  a  visit ;  and  perhaps 
you  can  get  your  mother  to  come,  too.  As  it  re- 
gards the  children's  coming  at  some  future  time,  the 
prospect  has  brightened  very  much. 

Only  think  of  my  having  such  a  saint  in  the  house 
ten  days  as  Henry  Ware !  Should  you  not  have 
thought  it  would  have  converted  us,  and  that  we 
should  now  be  as  good  as  he  is  himself?  I  most 
devoutly  wish  it  were  so. 

An  interruption  warns  me  to  bid  you  adieu. 
With  much  affection, 

A.  J.  Lyman. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

The  souls  of  the  righteous  are  in  the  hand  of  God,  and  there 
shall  no  torment  touch  them.  In  the  sight  of  the  unwise  they 
seemed  to  die,  and  their  departure  is  taken  for  misery,  and  their 
going  from  us  to  be  utter  destruction :  but  they  are  in  peace.  For 
though  they  be  punished  in  the  sight  of  men,  yet  is  their  hope  full 
of  immortality.  For  the  memorial  of  virtue  is  immortal :  because  it 
is  known  with  God  and  with  men.  When  it  is  present,  men  take 
example  at  it ;  and  when  it  is  gone,  they  desire  it :  it  weareth  a 
crown,  and  triumpheth  for  ever,  having  gotten  the  victory. —  Wisdom 
of  Solomon. 

IN  the  summer  of  1825,  a  severe  form  of  typhoid- 
fever  appeared  in  the  family  at  Brush  Hill,  and 
several  members  of  the  family  were  stricken  with 
it.  It  was  a  very  sad  summer.  My  Uncle,  Edward 
H.  Robbins,  was  very  ill  with  it  in  Boston,  and 
recovered ;  but  his  devoted  friend,  Mr.  Marshall 
Spring,  who  was  much  with  him  during  his  illness, 
took  the  disease  from  him,  and  died, —  a  life-long 
grief  to  my  uncle.  My  Aunt  Howe,  on  hearing  of 
her  brother's  illness,  went  directly  to  assist  in  the 
care  of  him,  although  her  heart  and  hands  were 
always  full  of  her  own  home  cares.  After  three 
weeks  of  great  anxiety,  she  returned  to  Northamp- 
ton, but  had  been  at  home  only  a  few  days  when 
the  news  came  that  her  sisters  Mary  and  Catherine 
were  taken  ill,  directly  after  she  left  them,  with  the 
same    disease.     With    characteristic    solicitude    and 


TYPHOID-FE VER  AT  BR USH  HILL  2 1 5 

disinterestedness,  my  Aunt  Howe  immediately  made 
arrangements  to  quit  her  family  again  and  return 
to  Brush  Hill,  to  nurse  her  sick  sisters;  and  her 
husband  did  every  thing  to  aid  her  to  get  off.  In 
a  private  memoir  of  my  Uncle  Howe,  which  my 
Cousin  Mary  has  kindly  permitted  me  to  use,  my 
Aunt  writes  :  "  I  received  the  letter  announcing 
that  my  sisters  were  more  ill,  on  Friday  evening. 
I  did  not  feel  willing  to  wait  until  the  next  week, 
and  I  told  my  husband  I  wished  to  take  the  morn- 
ing stage.  He  said  he  would  carry  me  to  Belcher- 
town  that  night,  that  I  might  not  have  the  fatigue 
of  going  through  in  a  day.  I  felt  that  this  necessity 
to  part  with  me  so  soon  again  was  a  great  sacrifice 
to  him,  and  I  highly  appreciated  the  generosity  with 
which  he  made  it." 

My  two  aunts  recovered,  although  they  seemed 
long  to  hover  between  life  and  death ;  and  when 
she  had  seen  them  so  far  restored  that  they  could 
do  without  her  unwearied  devotion,  my  Aunt  Howe 
returned  to  Northampton.  Only  a  few  days  after 
her  return,  she  received  news  of  the  death  of  a 
faithful  and  attached  domestic  at  Brush  Hill,  whom 
she  had  left,  as  she  supposed,  also  convalescent. 

Mrs.  Lyman  to  her  Mother,  ATorthampton,  Aug.  24,  1S25. 

Dear  Mother, —  I  little  thought  to  have  expe- 
rienced so  sudden  a  check  upon  the  joy  and  grati- 
tude that  filled  my  heart  last  week,  as  the  sickness 
of  Catherine  has  produced.  I  was  contemplating 
a  tour  to  see  you,  with  the  little  baby  and  Edward, 
who  is  a  confirmed  dyspeptic.     He   has   got   pretty 


216  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

well ;  but  nothing  seems  to  agree  with  his  stomach, 
and  he  looks  very  feeble,  though  he  is  uncomplain- 
ing. I  don't  know  that  I  ever  had  so  much  cause  for 
anxiety  about  any  of  my  children.  I  should  be  so 
much  occupied  with  my  children  that  I  should  only 
be  in  your  way  if  you  have  sickness,  without  having 
any  opportunity  to  relieve  you ;  and  I  shall,  of 
course,  give  it  up.  We  have  enjoyed  Abby's  visit 
highly ;  though  her  person  is  extremely  thin  and 
changed,  the  excellent  qualities  of  her  heart  re- 
main untarnished  ;  she  is  the  same  interesting,  good 
creature  that  she  was  when  she  left  us  ;  and  her 
husband  seems  to  have  a  just  sense  of  her  worth, 
which  he  proves  by  a  most  devoted  kindness  and 
attention  to  her.  She  has  a  very  delicate  child,  but 
it  appears  healthy. 

I  dare  say  you  have  heard  of  our  disappointment 
in  relation  to  Mr.  Hall,  who  is  too  unwell  to  deter- 
mine when  he  can  be  ordained.  Give  my  love  to 
Catherine.  I  am  sure  I  wish  I  could  be  with  her  ; 
but  the  claims  of  little  children  are  not  to  be 
resisted,  and  she  is  aware  that  the  most  important 
station  for  me  is  in  the  midst  of  them.  What  with 
the  conflicting  claims  of  society  and  of  children, 
I  cannot  compare  my  life  this  summer  to  any  thing 
but  living  on  the  top  of  a  high  tree,  in  a  great 
gale  of  wind,  in  which  all  one's  efforts  are  bent  to 
holding  on.  Sally  has  got  home  without  sustaining 
any  ill  effect  from  her  journey,  or  the  children  from 
her  absence.  I  don't  know  that  Judge  Howe  re- 
grets it,  but  we  think  it  a  great  pity  that  he  has 
got  his  house  so  small ;  there  are  a  sufficient  num- 


FAMOUS  AM  A  TEUR  THE  A  TRICALS         217 

ber  of  rooms,  but  they  are  all  too  small.  The  par- 
lors  that  open  together  are  the  size  of  our  library, 
and  those  are  the  largest  rooms  in  the  house.  But 
I  believe  I  have  an  unreasonable  dislike  of  small 
rooms  for  a  large  family.  We  have  parted  with 
Abby,  who  has  gone  to  Providence ;  she  was  afraid 
she  should  not  go  to  Boston,  but  I  think  Mr.  G.  will. 
Tell  Catherine,  as  soon  as  she  gets  well  enough, 
I  shall  have  her  transported  up  here.  I  thought 
I  would  send  her  a  copy  of  Mrs.  Hentz's  hymn, 
written  for  our  ordination.  Sally's  little  James  is 
rather  sick,  but  I  hope  not  seriously. 

In  the  year  1826  came  off  a  famous  dramatic 
entertainment  at  our  house,  in  which  the  most  beau- 
tiful girls  in  our  village  (so  famed  for  beauty)  took 
part,  and  the  finest  young  men  in  the  Law  School 
were  also  actors.  The  "  Lady  of  the  Lake "  was 
dramatized  with  wonderful  effect ;  my  father  and 
Uncle  Howe  declaring  that  they  had  never  seen  any 
such  acting  on  any  stage  in  Boston  or  New  York. 
The  beautiful  Martha  Strong,  the  pride  of  our  vil- 
lage, dressed  in  a  suit  of  Lincoln  green,  took  the 
part  of  James  Fitz-Jamcs  ;  and  for  many  years  after 
the  tears  would  come  to  my  mother's  eyes  as  she 
described  the  scene  where  he  was  found  alone,  mourn- 
ing over  the  loss  of  his  steed.  My  mother  allowed 
the  house  to  be  turned  inside-out  and  upside-down, 
to  arrange  for  this  elegant  theatrical  display  ;  and 
she  was  rewarded  by  the  enthusiastic  pleasure  of  the 
young  actors  and  of  the  neighborhood, —  who  were 
wont    to  tell  of    it  for  years.     For  a  scene  of   this 


218  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

kind  was  of  rare  occurrence  in  those  days.  The 
children  were  moved  up-stairs,  and  the  nursery  con- 
verted into  a  green-room  ;  a  stage  was  erected  at  the 
end  of  the  long  hall,  and  one  of  the  corridor  win- 
dows was  removed.  So  that  when  the  lovely  Ellen 
pushed  "her  light  shallop  from  the  shore,"  the  boat 
glided  off  the  stage  by  invisible  ways  and  pulleys, 
past  a  wooded  shore  of  evergreens,  directly  into  the 
corridor,  which  was  dark.  The  beautiful  Anne  Jean 
took  the  part  of  Allan  Bane ;  and  with  her  white 
wig  and  bending  figure,  touched  her  harp  with  most 
mournful  and  effective  strains.  My  cousin  Martha 
was  Lord  Douglass  ;  and  other  parts  were  equally 
well  chosen  and  sustained.  What  acting  is  so  fine 
as  the  private  acting  of  a  band  of  enthusiastic  young 
persons  of  culture  and  refinement  ? 

To  Mrs.  Greene,  March  22,  1826. 

My  dear  Abby, —  Mr.  Eben  Hunt's  illness  has 
cast  a  gloom  over  our  neighborhood,  together  with 
the  illness  and  death  of  a  young  man  by  the  name 
of  Wilder,  whom,  I  dare  say,  Mr.  Greene  will  re- 
member to  have  seen  at  the  Cambridge  Commence- 
ment, where  he  had  the  first  part.  He  was  alto- 
gether the  finest  young  man  of  his  age  that  I  ever 
knew,  and  his  being  removed  from  this  world  was 
one  of  the  most  inscrutable  and  mysterious  Provi- 
dences that  I  have  ever  experienced.  He  had  aged 
and  respectable  parents  depending  on  his  efforts. 
He  was  the  professor  of  mathematics  on  Round  Hill, 
though  a  member  of  Judge  Howe's  Law  School.  He 
was    one  of  those  delightful  characters  that  insure 


THE  SPRING  OF  1826  219 

the  unqualified  regard  and  admiration  of  all  who 
know  them,  and  I  can  hardly  contemplate  his  death 
with  composure.  He  had  those  warm,  social  feel- 
ings which  gave  him  peculiar  power  to  diffuse  pleas- 
ure wherever  he  visited,  which  he  did  here  fre- 
quently. 

Our  neighbor,  Mrs.  Pomeroy,  died  this  winter 
with  a  lung  fever.  Our  clergyman,  Mr.  Hall,  was 
so  unwell  as  to  go  to  Baltimore  immediately  after 
the  dedication,  and  pass  the  winter.  So  that  you 
see  we  have  had  abundant  cause  for  gloom.  .  .  . 

I  was  sorry  to  find  that  you  were  going  to  be  dis- 
appointed about  Mr.  Willis's  residence,  but  hope 
there  will  be  some  compensating  circumstance  an- 
nexed to  it,  such  as  will  reconcile  you  in  some 
measure  to  the  evil. 

My  sister  Catherine  has  passed  the  last  few  weeks 
with  me,  and  we  have  had  so  few  interruptions  from 
society  that  we  have  become  quite  literary,  and 
begin  to  think  ourselves  quite  of  the  "  blue-stocking 
order."  We  have  read,  amongst  other  things,  Scott's 
"Lives  of  the  Novelists," — a  most  delightful  book, 
particularly  to  one  who  has  read  the  old-fashioned 
novels,  as  you  and  I  have, —  such  as  "Clarissa  Har- 
lowe,"  "Sir  Charles  Grandison,"  and  others  of  the 
same  stamp  and  age.  We  have  read  also  Moore's 
"Life  of  Sheridan,"  and  Prior's  "Life  of  Burke," 
which  books  afford  one  a  most  lively  contemplation 
of  the  great  men  and  the  state  of  the  different  par- 
ties which  existed  before  and  at  the  period  of  the 
American  and  French  revolutions.  As  I  am  in  my 
old    age    increasing    my   interest  in  political  affairs, 


220  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

and  have  a  satisfaction  in  tracing  to  their  causes 
the  most  recent  events  in  the  history  of  the  world, 
as  having  a  more  immediate  bearing  on  the  present 
state  of  things,  all  this  is  very  agreeable  to  me. 

Nov.  2,  1826. 

My  dear  Abby, —  Judge  W.  has  returned  to  Sa- 
vannah. Mrs.  W.  is  a  very  beautiful  and  accom- 
plished woman,  but  not  of  natural  fine  abilities.  I 
think  less  and  less  of  fine  accomplishments  every 
day.  If  they  are  the  ornaments  of  a  very  fine  char- 
acter, it  is  very  well ;  but  if  they  decorate  a  coarse 
material,  they  only  illustrate  more  powerfully  the 
defect  of  the  original  fabric,  and,  instead  of  being 
a  cover,  they  render  it  more  conspicuous  to  any  but 
a  superficial  observer. 

Mrs.  Lyman  to  Caroline  Lee  Ilentz,  Dec.  25,  1S26. 

My  dear  Mrs.  Hextz, —  I  have  read  your  letters 
with  so  much  pleasure,  and  so  warmly  reciprocate 
the  feelings  expressed  in  them,  that  I  cannot  with- 
hold my  pen.  We  thought  of  you  with  a  good  deal 
of  anxiety,  I  assure  you,  until  we  heard  from  your 
own  pen  that  you  had  reached  your  journey's  end, 
without  any  other  disasters  than  might  have  been 
reasonably  expected.  Our  temporal  journeys  are 
very  apt  to  be  like  the  journey  of  life, —  made  up 
of  pleasures  and  pains,  of  hopes  and  fears,  and  prom- 
ises of  sunny  clays  which  are  soon  overcast  by  the 
clouds  of  disappointment.  But  that  true  philosophy 
which  supplies  an  invariable  antidote  to  all  the 
troubles    we    are    subject    to,    short   of   sickness  and 


LETTER  TO  CAROLINE  LEE  HENTZ        221 

death  or  vice,  is  a  just  estimate  of  the  realities  of  life, 
connected  with  the  never-failing  trust  which  is  awak- 
ened by  correct  views  of  religion,  or  confidence  in 
an  overruling  Providence,  which  has  for  its  end  the 
"good  of  mankind."  There  is  much  to  cheer  us 
in  this  belief.  If  we  value  our  own  deserts  only 
as  we  should,  we  shall  not  form  too  bright  anticipa- 
tions for  our  fate.  If  we  appreciate  poor  human 
nature  to  be  the  imperfect  thing  it  is,  we  shall  not 
be  surprised  in  our  intercourse  with  our  fellow  mor- 
tals at  the  imperfect  pleasures  which  result  from 
such  interchange,  but  shall  be  fortified  by  these  just 
conceptions  to  meet  all  the  casualties  of  which  life 
is  made  up. 

But  you  do  not  want  to  hear  me  prosing  to  you 
about  what  you  know  as  well  as  I  do  ;  you  want 
to  know  how  much  the  people  of  Northampton  had 
their  happiness  lessened  by  your  absence,  and 
whether  their  love  was  worth  having.  Then  let  me 
tell  you  mine  was.  For  if  I  did  not  see  you  often, 
I  had  a  pleasure  in  contemplating  my  vicinity  to 
you.  I  think  of  all  good  people  in  my  neighbor- 
hood as  the  beings  who  contribute  to  purifying  the 
moral  atmosphere.  My  pride,  too,  is  gratified  in  the 
belief  that  they  are  improving  the  credit  of  our  kind, 
and  helping  it  to  a  better  name:  and,  in  short,  that 
they  give  a  character  to  our  society.  I  am  truly 
glad  to  find  that  you  are  favorably  impressed  with 
your  new  situation,  and  that  you  are  convinced  that 
happiness  is  not  loeal,  but  everywhere.  The  well- 
balanced  mind  and  truly  disciplined  heart  will  find 
it   in   places   much  less   pleasant  than  our  beautiful 


222  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

valley,  and,  I  am  sure,  will  often  realize  the  absence 
of  it  here  in  those  deficient  of  the  above-mentioned 
qualities. 

Mr.  Bancroft  and  Mr.  Beck  will  not  be  married 
for  six  or  eight  weeks.  Mr.  Hall  and  his  wife  are 
pleasantly  situated  at  our  son  Sam's ;  they  have  half 
the  house,  and  Mr.  Ware's  two  children  live  with 
them.  They  are  a  perfectly  congenial  couple,  and 
I  think  have  laid  their  foundation  deep  for  happi- 
ness ;  she  is  every  thing  a  good  woman  and  a  minis- 
ter's wife  should  be,  and  he  is  constantly  increasing 
the  love  of  his  people  towards  him. 

Mrs.  Howe  sent  your  letter  to  the  Miss  Seegers 
for  their  gratification,  and  they  have  read  it  with 
delight.  Mary  is  going  there  this  evening  to  a 
dance.     Jane  is  passing  the  winter  in  Boston. 

Mr.  Mills  went  away,  accompanied  by  Mrs.  Mills, 
in  quite  an  invalid  state.  I  very  much  doubt  if  he 
ever  recovers.  Helen  is  engaged  to  Charles  Hun- 
tington, and  Sally  remains  as  when  you  were  here. 
Mrs.  Howe  has  the  pleasure  of  having  my  sister  Cath- 
erine with  her,  and  they  both  desire  their  love. 
With  much  love  to  Mr.  Hentz,  believe  me,  your  sin- 
cere friend. 

To  Mrs.  Greene,  Jan.  9,  1S27. 

My  dear  Abby, — I  continue  to  use  my  old  recipe 
for  opening  my  heart ;  you  will  recollect  that  Lord 
Bacon  said  there  was  nothing  like  a  true  friend  for 
that  purpose,  "to  whom  we  may  impart  griefs,  joys, 
fears,  hopes,  suspicions,  counsels,  and  whatever  lieth 
on  the  heart  to  oppress  it."     He  likewise  says,  "It 


READING  WORDSWORTH'S  EXCURSION  223 

is  a  mere  and  miserable  solitude  to  want  true  friends, 
without  which  the  world  is  but  a  wilderness  ;  and 
whoever  is  in  his  nature  and  affections  unfit  for 
friendship,  he  taketh  it  of  the  beast,  and  not  from 
humanity."  After  dilating  the  subject  to  its  true 
extent  without  magnifying  its  influence,  he  closes 
with  observing,  "  Friendship  indeed  maketh  a  fair 
day  in  the  affections  from  storms  and  tempests ;  it 
likewise  maketh  daylight  in  the  understanding  out 
of  darkness  and  confusion  of  thoughts."  I  am  a 
believer  in  its  power,  for  I  have  always  indulged 
myself  in  all  its  privileges,  though  it  has  been  my 
fortune  to  live  widely  separated  from  some  of  those 
I  love  best,  and  feel  most  confidence  in,  as  the  re- 
pository of  my  feelings. 

June  15,  1827. 

I  have  been  reading  Wordsworth's  "  Excursion  " 
of  late  ;  I  could  read  it  again  and  again  with  renewed 
pleasure.  It  is  not  a  popular  book  at  all,  but  I  am 
not  astonished  at  that.  The  light-minded  and  frivo- 
lous part  of  the  community  should  not  understand  it, 
and  those  who  read  poetry  merely  for  amusement 
would  not.  But  I  do  wonder  that  it  is  not  more 
read  and  admired  by  thinking  people !  There  is 
little  in  it  to  gratify  the  appetite  for  narrative  and 
adventure  ;  it  is  sometimes  dull,  even  to  tediousness  ; 
notwithstanding  which,  I  consider  it  the  most  splen- 
did monument  of  thought,  of  deep  reilection,  and 
beautiful  sentiment  that  has  been  reared  in  many 
generations.  It  has  to  do  with  the  mind  altogether, 
its  capacities,   its  pleasures,  its  abuses,  and  its  clis- 


224  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

eases  ;  and  to  understand  it  you  must  read  it  with 
all  your  faculties  as  much  concentrated  as  to  read 
Locke.  It  contains  the  truest  philosophy,  the  sound- 
est views  of  life,  the  purest  devotion,  and  the  most 
eloquent  poetry ;  and  if  these  are  not  more  than 
enough  to  compensate  for  its  defects,  then  indeed  it 
deserves  the  neglect  it  has  met  with.  To  my  appre- 
hension, Wordsworth  has  excelled  in  the  highest 
order  of  poetry, —  in  the  moral  sublime.  I  wish  you 
would  read  it.  I  believe  in  some  of  my  letters  I 
have  described  our  minister,  and  the  state  of  our 
parochial  affairs.  I  am  glad  you  saw  Edward  Low- 
ell ;  he  is  called  the  finest  young  man  of  his  age 
that  there  is  in  Boston.  Quite  a  prodigy  of  learning, 
premature  in  everything. 

July  12,  1827. 

Have  you  read  "Woodstock"?  I  think  it  alto- 
gether the  best  of  Scott's  late  productions,  and  may 
be  considered  a  fine  historical  sketch  calculated  to 
strengthen  and  confirm  the  impressions  of  Crom- 
well's character  and  times.  The  works  of  Mrs.  Bar- 
bauld  have  lately  been  published,  and  should  make  a 
part  of  every  lady's  library.  Her  life  and  writings 
have  done  much  to  elevate  the  standard  of  female 
character,  and  I  feel  a  pride  in  them  that  I  am  sure 
is  not  sinful ;  though  I  am  humbled  to  think  such 
people  are  so  rare,  arid  that  there  is  only  such  a  con- 
stellation as  Mrs.  Barbauld  and  Miss  Edgeworth  and 
Miss  More  and  Mrs.  Hemans  about  once  in  a  cen- 
tury, though  there  are  some  I  have  not  mentioned, 
who  certainly  are  not  inferior  to  them, —  Mrs.  Ham- 


MEETING  RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON       225 

ilton  and  Mrs.  Radcliffe  for  instance.  I  am  drawing 
near  the  end  of  my  paper  without  having  said  much ; 
I  wish  to  know  every  thing  about  little  C.  I  pray 
and  hope  you  will  get  her  through  the  summer  with- 
out sickness.  .  .  . 

I  long  to  look  in  upon  you,  and  see  the  dear  chil- 
dren. I  hope  you  will  be  so  fortunate  as  to  raise 
them,  for  I  consider  children  a  great  blessing ; 
although  they  are  a  blessing  accompanied  by  great 
care.  But  'tis  care  that,  like  ballast  in  a  ship,  helps 
to  preserve  the  mind's  balance  by  checking  its  buoy- 
ancy ;  and,  as  that  is  good  for  us  and  necessary  for 
us  we  ought  not  to  consider  it  an  evil. 

I  hope  you  have  seen  Miss  Sedgwick's  "  Hope 
Leslie."     It  is  a  most  exquisitely  beautiful  thing. 

In  the  autumn  of  1827,  our  minister,  Mr.  Edward 
B.  Hall,  being  in  ill  health,  the  pulpit  was  supplied 
by  ministers  from  Boston  and  the  neighborhood ; 
most  of  the  preachers  being  young  men.  My 
mother  was  warmly  attached  to  Mrs.  Hall,  and  felt 
the  anxieties  and  cares  that  this  excellent  and  high- 
minded  woman  was  subject  to  very  sensibly.  All 
the  more  that  Mrs.  Hall  was  one  of  those  cheerful, 
sustained  Christians  who  never  looked  on  her  cares 
as  hardships,  but  who  bore  all  burdens  in  the  hap- 
piest frame  of  mind.  During  this  autumn  my 
mother  heard  that  Mrs.  Hall  was  expecting  one  of 
the  preachers  to  stay  at  her  house  for  a  fortnight. 
She  did  not  even  know  the  name  of  the  expected 
guest  ;  but  she  knew  Mrs.  Hall  was  not  well  :  so  she 
sent  her  word  that  when  the  preacher  came  she 
would   like   to   have   him    transferred  to    her  house. 


226  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

It  was  Mr.  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  then  a  young 
man,  who  took  up  his  abode  for  a  fortnight  under 
her  friendly  roof.  I  have  no  power  to  convey  in 
words  the  impression  she  used  to  give  me  of  this 
visit,  or  its  effect  upon  her  appreciative  mind.  To 
her  sister  she  mirthfully  quoted  an  expression  some- 
times used  by  her  Orthodox  neighbors  about  cer- 
tain students  at  Amherst,  and  wrote :  "  O  Sally ! 
I  thought  to  entertain  'a  pious  indigent,'  but  lo  ! 
an  angel  unawares  !  "  Not  long  after  this  visit  my 
brother  Joseph  became  intimate  with  Charles  Emer- 
son at  Cambridge ;  a  friendship  which  my  mother 
hailed  as  one  of  the  highest  and  holiest  influences 
in  the  life  of  her  beloved  son.  She  rarely  saw  Mr. 
Emerson  in  her  later  life ;  a  few  letters  passed 
between  them.  Once  (in  1849)  ne  spent  a  few  days 
at  her  house,  while  lecturing  in  Northampton ;  and, 
after  her  removal  to  Cambridge  he  called  to  see  her. 
The  personal  feelings  towards  him  thus  engendered 
burned  henceforth  with  a  flame  that  threw  light 
upon  every  passage  of  his  writings,  gilded  the  gloom 
of  many  a  weary  day,  and  made  her  fine  face  shine 
with  responsive  sympathy  for  the  author,  as  she 
read  aloud.  She  was  wont  to  feel  a  sort  of  property 
in  him  and  his  works  ;  and  I  have  seen  her  ready 
to  shed  tears  when  she  could  not  see  any  apprecia- 
tion of  his  thought  in  her  listener.  To  one  I  have 
heard  her  say  "  Well !  you  call  that  transcendental, 
and  that's  all  you  have  to  say  about  it.  /call  it  the 
profoundest  common  sense."  To  another,  "You 
think  it  very  arrogant  of  me  to  pretend  to  under- 
stand Mr.   Emerson.     Well,   I   tell   you  I   have  the 


JUDGE  HO  WE 'S  NE  W  HOME  227 

1 

key  to  him  ;  and  I  am  not  going  to  pretend  I  have 

not,  whatever  any  one  thinks." 

And  so  as  the  years  went  by,  and  volume  after 
volume  appeared  of  the  "Essays,"  she  hailed  them 
with  delight,  and  read  them  till  they  became  a  part 
of  herself. 

In  December  of  1827  fell  the  heaviest  shadow  on 
the  social  life  of  my  dear  father  and  mother  that 
they  had  yet  known.  My  Uncle  and  Aunt  Howe 
(who  had  moved  into  the  new  house  they  had  just 
built  at  the  foot  of  Round  Hill)  were  full  of  delight 
in  their  home,  and  enjoyed  it  all  the  more  from 
having  been  subjected  to  many  changes  and  incon- 
veniences, which,  however,  they  had  always  borne 
with  their  accustomed  patience  and  cheerfulness. 
My  Uncle  Howe  had  been  very  successful  in  build- 
ing up  the  Law  School,  and  his  hopes  of  the  future 
were  high  and  sound.  His  health,  never  firm,  was 
seldom  a  serious  drawback  to  his  efforts.  But  in 
this  year  it  sensibly  declined.  Mr.  Rufus  Ellis,  in 
his  admirable  little  memoir  of  him,  writes  :  — 

"Through  life  he  had  been  afflicted  with  most 
exhausting  headaches ;  indeed,  almost  every  effort 
at  the  bar  was  followed  by  suffering  of  this  sort, — ■ 
and  this  year  began  with  violent  attacks,  from  which 
he  did  not  recover  so  thoroughly  as  at  former  times. 
During  this  year  a  slight  difficulty  of  breathing 
first  showed  itself,  originating  in  a  cartilaginous 
formation  in  the  windpipe,  which  from  the  first  was 
beyond  the  reach  of  human  skill.  These  last  days 
in  his  earthly  home  were  not  without  their  premoni- 
tions   to  Judge    Howe,  and   he  seems   to   have  been 


228  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

persuaded  that  his  end  was  at  hand.  The  current 
of  many  of  his  thoughts  is  apparent  from  a  dream, 
which  made  a  very  deep  impression  upon  him. 

"He  seemed  to  stand  upon  the  piazza  of  his 
dwelling,  his  new  home  but  lately  erected,  as  he 
had  hoped,  for  a  pleasant  and  permanent  abiding- 
place,  where  the  hearth-fire  might  be  kept  burning, 
and  into  which  his  children  might  be  gathered  about 
him,  for  many  happy  years.  This  beautiful  resi- 
dence, a  monument  to  his  elegant  taste,  quietly 
reposes  at  the  foot  of  the  shapely  eminence  which 
crowns  the  village.  He  looked  out  upon  the  glories 
which  from  that  spot  meet  the  eye  at  every  turn. 
The  sun  shone  out  resplendent,  and  poured  his  beams 
aslant  upon  mountain  and  meadow  and  the  modest 
village,  almost  buried  under  its  gigantic  elms.  The 
shadows  stretched  out  in  huge  lengths  before  him,  for 
the  day  was  far  spent.  Presently,  as  often  happens  in 
that  valley,  there  rose  a  heavy  mist  which  obscured 
the  whole  landscape,  and  sent  a  chill  to  his  heart. 
But  the  darkness  and  the  cold  were  only  for  a  mo- 
ment. Soon  the  mist  disappeared,  and  the  sun  sank 
to  rest  in  that  wondrous  glory,  which,  like  the  bow 
in  the  clouds,  the  kind  Father  seems  to  have  ap- 
pointed to  cheer  and  reassure  our  hearts  in  this 
world  where  so  many  must  be  afflicted,  and  where 
all  must  die.  He  awoke,  and  behold !  it  was  a 
dream  ;  but  his  inmost  prophetic  soul  said  to  him, 
'So  shall  it  be  with  thee  !'     And  so  it  was. 

"  In  the  month  of  December,  Judge  Howe  left  his 
home,  in  company  with  his  wife  and  their  infant 
child,    to   hold   a   court   in   Worcester.     This  proved 


JUDGE  HO  IV E  \S"  DEA  TH  229 

to  be  his  last  labor.  An  unusual  pressure  of  busi- 
ness detained  the  court  until  Thursday  of  the  third 
week.  During  the  following  night,  Judge  Howe  was 
completely  prostrated  by  a  profuse  hemorrhage,  but 
rallied  sufficiently  to  travel  a  part  of  the  distance 
to  Boston,  on  Wednesday  of  the  succeeding  week  ; 
and,  after  his  arrival  in  Boston,  remained  tolerably 
comfortable  during  the  remainder  of  the  week.  On 
Monday  he  was  much  more  ill,  and  continued  in  a 
condition  of  great  suffering  for  twelve  days,  almost 
without  power  for  continuous  thought  or  attention  ; 
and  it  was  soon  but  too  evident  that  his  case  was 
hopeless,  though  affection  clung  to  hope,  almost  to 
the  last." 

My  Uncle  Howe  died  in  Boston,  at  the  house 
of  his  brother-in-law,  Dr.  Edward  II.  Robbins,  on 
the  twentieth  day  of  January,  1828.  Of  the  closing 
scene,  Mr.  Ellis  goes  on  to  write  :  — 

"  About  nine  o'clock,  of  Saturday  evening,  he  was 
aroused  from  a  state  of  partial  stupor  by  the  arrival 
of  Judge  Lyman.  Then  the  mist  cleared  away,  and 
the  light  of  his  soul  shone  out  most  gloriously  dur- 
ing the  closing  hours.  .  .  .  We  are  rather  inclined 
to  dwell  on  the  hour  of  his  death,  because  the  spirit 
which  adorned  and  ennobled  it  animated  the  whole 
life,  because  it  did  not  stand  out  as  an  exception, 
but  entirely  corresponded  with  all  the  rest  of  his 
days. 

"lie  began  with  prayer  to  God  that  he  might 
have  strength  to  meet  the  duties  and  trials  of  the 
hour  ;  and  then,  taking  the  hand  of  Judge  Lyman, 
whom  he  called  '  the  best  friend  any  man  ever  had,' 


230  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

his  soul  seemed  to  overflow  with  gratitude,  and  he 
numbered  up  his  mercies  with  thankful  acknowledg- 
ment. 'There  seems,'  he  said,  'to  be  a  most  happy 
combination  of  circumstances  at  this  hour, —  the 
coming  of  my  friend,  Mr.  Lyman,  the  sight  of  my 
dear  son,  the  best  medical  advice,  and  the  comforts 
of  a  devoted  brother's  home  all  lavished  upon  me; 
these  last  especially  move  my  heart  to  gratitude. 
God's  blessing  rest  upon  him  who  has  been  more 
than  a  brother  to  me  in  my  feebleness  !  And  then 
he  passed  to  some  sober  words  of  religious  trust, 
and  to  some  thoughtful  and  kind  suggestions  with 
reference  to  his  worldly  affairs.  '  My  confidence,' 
he  said,  '  is  in  the  mercy  of  God,  as  revealed  in  the 
Gospel.  Oh,  my  confidence  in  God  at  this  hour 
is  worth  more  to  me  than  riches,  or  honor,  or  any 
thing  else  that  this  world  has  ! '  He  said  that  he 
had  not  been  without  a  deep  sense  of  the  responsi- 
bilities which  pressed  upon  him  ;  and  that  he  had 
been  surprised  at  his  success,  at  the  clearness  of  his 
decisions,  and  the  absence  of  mental  wavering. 
This  power  he  regarded  as  an  answer  to  prayer. 
He  trusted  that  he  had  been  conscientious  in  the 
discharge  of  his  public  duties  ;  but  he  added,  '  Thou 
God,  knowest ! '  Heaven,  he  said,  had  ever  been 
regarded  by  him  as  the  abode  of  those  who  cul- 
tivated their  moral  and  intellectual  powers  to  the 
greatest  advantage  ;  and  to  do  this  had  been  his  aim. 
'I  consider  human  happiness  as  exactly  measured 
by  the  amount  of  happiness  which  we  are  able  to 
confer  upon  others.'  With  the  greatest  collected- 
ness   of   manner,    and   the   method  which   had    ever 


JUDGE  HOWE'S  LAST  WORDS  231 

characterized  him,  he  gave  a  few  simple  directions 
about  his  worldly  affairs,  and  commended  his  house- 
hold to  the  God  of  the  fatherless  and  the  widow. 
He  hoped  to  have  made  full  provision  for  them  in 
pecuniary  matters,  but  God  had  otherwise  ordered 
it.  To  each  of  his  friends  who  were  present,  he 
addressed  words  of  affection  or  of  disinterested 
counsel,  pouring  out,  for  the  last  time  on  earth,  the 
tide  of  his  full,  warm  heart.  And  then  praying 
again,  partly  in  the  words  which  our  Lord  has 
taught  us,  and  expressing  again  his  faith  in  the 
religion  of  Jesus,  he  passed  away. 

"  We  have  given  many  of  the  last  thoughts,  and 
some  few  of  the  last  words  of  this  good  man ;  but 
it  was  the  spirit  that  pervaded  all,  and  even  beamed 
out  from  his  calm  face,  that  made  the  chamber  of 
death  holy  and  blessed  and  peaceful.  His  friends 
felt,  as  for  more  than  an  hour  he  thus  uttered  him- 
self to  them,  that  the  heart  spake, —  spake  because 
it  could  not  be  silent.  The  throbbings  of  anguish 
ceased  as  the  sweet,  eloquent  words  fell  from  his 
lips,  and  tears  ceased  to  flow.  Those  who  were 
gathered  about  the  bed  of  death  seemed  to  be  trans- 
lated for  the  moment  with  one  whose  soul,  just 
ready  to  take  its  flight,  brought  heaven  and  earth 
together.  It  was  a  spontaneous  outpouring  from 
the  heart,  and  it  could  heal  the  wounds  of  the  heart. 
Thankfulness  and  hope  for  the  moment  prevailed 
over  dee])  grief,  and,  in  dying  as  in  living,  the  de- 
parting spirit   blessed   and  strengthened  his  friends. 

"Judge  Howe  was  buried  where  he  died,  in  the 
city  of  Boston,   with  every  fitting  honor:  the  mem- 


232  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

bers  of  the  Suffolk  Bar,  to  whom  Chief  Justice 
Parker  addressed  a  very  eloquent  discourse  upon 
the  services  and  character  of  the  departed,  follow- 
ing him  to  the  grave.  And  so,  after  an  all  too 
brief  sojourn  of  forty-three  years,  the  wise  and 
faithful  man  passed  from  our  sight." 

Directly  after  the  funeral  services  were  over,  my 
father  accompanied  my  Aunt  Howe  to  her  now  des- 
olated home.  The  grief  of  my  mother  for  her  sis- 
ter's loss,  and  her  mourning  for  one  who  had  been 
a  real  brother  to  her  and  my  father  for  many  years, 
made  a  profound  impression  on  me,  young  as  I  was. 
I  recall  the  sad  expression  of  their  bowed  heads 
every  Sunday  in  church  for  many  months,  and  the 
almost  constant  weeping  of  my  mother,  whenever 
an  interval  from  her  active  duties  left  her  time  to 
weep.  As  for  my  dear  aunt,  who  was  the  one  most 
deeply  afflicted,  she  was  left  with  the  care  of  six 
young  children  ;  but  also  with  that  high  sense  of 
duty,  and  that  consoling  exaltation  of  spirit,  that  is 
the  portion  of  those  who  have  enjoyed  the  highest 
companionship,  and  to  whom  the  will  of  God  is  con- 
clusive and  satisfying.  During  the  winter  succeed- 
ing to  her  husband's  death,  she  wrote  out  in  her 
solitary  hours  all  her  most  precious  reminiscences 
of  his  life.  In  it  she  speaks  with  thankful  emotion 
of  the  seven  quiet  years  she  had  passed  with  her 
husband  in  Worthington.  There,  comparative  isola- 
tion had  drawn  their  hearts  closer  together  in  those 
first  years  of  married  life,  and  had  given  them  time 
for  that  intellectual  sympathy  which  the  cares  of  a 
more    extended    social   circle  would  have  prevented. 


THE  HABIT  OF  READING  ALOUD  233 

A  home  where  her  sisters  and  Eliza  Cabot  and  Cath- 
erine Sedgwick  were  occasional  guests,  where  the 
good  and  learned  Dr.  Bryant  loved  to  frequent,  and 
where  his  poet-son  had  a  temporary  home ;  where, 
when  alone,  the  husband  and  wife  regaled  them- 
selves with  evening  readings  of  Tacitus  and  Virgil 
and  Mather's  Magnalia, —  such  a  home,  even  on  the 
bleak  hills  of  Worthington,  was  one  to  remember 
with  peaceful  gratitude.  In  one  of  my  Uncle  Howe's 
letters  to  my  aunt  before  their  marriage,  I  find  a 
passage  which  I  insert  here  ;  for  the  anticipation  it 
contains  was  fully  realized  :  — 

"  I  anticipate  great  pleasure  in  reading  to  you, 
and  hearing  you  read.  In  this  way,  we  can  in  some 
measure  supply  the  want  of  society,  which  you  must 
necessarily  feel  as  a  great  privation.  While  we  im- 
prove our  minds  individually,  we  shall  also  increase 
the  similarity  in  our  feelings,  opinions,  and  tastes  ; 
and  this  will  certainly  increase  the  pleasure  of  our 
intercourse  with  each  other.  The  desire  of  being 
useful  to  each  other  will  stimulate  our  exertions  for 
the  improvement  of  our  minds  ;  and  the  habit  of 
reading  and  conversing  together  on  literary  subjects 
will  prove  highly  useful  to  our  children.  I  hope  we 
shall  not  be  inclined  to  complain  of  solitude,  while 
we  ran  enjoy  together  the  society  of  Shakspeare  and 
Milton,  Johnson  and  Burke." 

My  aunt's  memoir  oi  Judge  Howe  is  an  exqui- 
sitely simple  and  touching  record  of  a  wholly  faithful 
career.  Mv  own  limits  will  only  allow  me  to  make 
a  few  extracts  from  it  ;  but  they  will  serve  to  show 
you,   my  dear  girls,   what   this  lite  and  death  were  to 


234  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

your  grandparents,  and  how  noble  must  have  been 
the  friendship  that  subsisted  between  these  four 
noble  souls. 

Extracts  from  Mrs.  Hcnue  's  memoir  of  her  husband. 

"  With  the  perfect  sincerity  of  his  conversation, 
and  the  entire  simplicity  of  his  manners,  I  was  im- 
pressed when  I  first  saw  him.  He  was  then  nearly 
eight-and-twenty,  and,  although  he  never  in  any 
degree  lost  his  natural  frankness,  I  think  he  after- 
wards greatly  improved  in  his  power  and  ease  in 
conversation  ;  his  mind  became  more  enlarged,  and 
his  range  of  thought  more  varied.  This  was  the 
effect  of  a  life  industriously  devoted  to  the  cultiva- 
tion of  his  intellectual  powers,  the  welfare  of  his 
fellow-creatures,  and  the  happiness  of  his  family. 
The  mind  which  is  unceasing  in  research,  the  affec- 
tions which  are  daily  supplied,  must  increase  in 
strength  continually. 

"It  was  my  privilege,  from  the  very  beginning 
of  our  acquaintance,  to  become  the  companion  to 
his  mind.  I  remember  he  told  me  that  his  friend 
Hayden  said  to  him,  '  You  are  going  to  marry  again  : 
speak  not  of  your  former  wife ;  it  will  be  an  unwel- 
come subject.'  His  reply  was,  'I  shall  have  no 
interdicted  subject  with  my  wife.' 

"  It  was  my  happiness  to  inspire  a  confidence 
never  for  a  moment  withdrawn,  manifested  in  death 
as  well  as  in  life.  This  is  a  lasting  enjoyment,  not 
merely  in  recollection,  but  in  possession.  ...  He 
who  knew  me  best  knew  that  I  was  above  poor  and 
selfish  motives  of  conduct  ;  and  the  feeling  that  he 
did  so  strengthened  my  self-respect. 


MRS.  .HOWE'S  MEMOIR  235 

"The  time  he  spent  with  us  at  Brush  Hill,  pre- 
vious to  our  marriage,  was  employed  in  cultivating 
an  acquaintance  with  me  and  with  all  my  friends. 
With  my  father  he  was  immediately  intimate.  He 
had  for  him  the  respect  of  a  son,  with  the  companion- 
ship of  a  brother.  They  never  met  without  renewed 
pleasure  in  each  other's  society.  To  every  member 
of  my  family  he  made  himself  interesting,  and  like- 
wise to  the  whole  circle  of  our  friends.  This  inter- 
est was  never  in  any  measure  withdrawn  ;  for  it  had 
no  false  pretence,  no  showy  attraction  for  its  founda- 
tion. No  human  creature  could  be  more  superior 
to  everything  like  address  or  subterfuge.  He  had 
no  vanity  to  gratify,  and  he  never  did  anything,  great 
or  small,  for  display.  This  makes  the  vain  parade 
which  some  persons  make  of  accomplishments  and 
intellectual  attainments  seem  contemptible  to  me ; 
but  I  try  to  overlook  it,  because  he  always  forgave 
it.  The  extravagant  claims  of  others  never  seemed 
to  interfere  with  him  ;  he  never  flattered  others,  and 
never  expected  praise.  He  was,  indeed,  too  good 
and  wise  and  kind  to  make  it  necessary  to  convince 
others  of  his  excellence,  or  conceal  from  them  his 
motives :  they  might  be  read  in  his  countenance, 
heard  in  every  word  lie  uttered  ;  and  no  one  had 
need  to  say,  'Why  do  you  so  ? '  The  activity  of  his 
mind  was  very  uncommon.  I  do  not  think  he  had 
what  men  call  genius ;  he  was  never  imaginative, 
but  his  powers  were  always  in  use.  To  reason  and 
compare,  to  think,  to  read,  and  converse,  were  his 
constant  occupations. 

"When  conversation  ceased,  he  had  always  a  book 


236  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

at  hand,  and  reading  with  him  was  not  a  selfish 
enjoyment.  I  believe  that  I  may  safely  say  that  he 
has  read  hundreds  of  volumes  aloud  to  me.  He  dis- 
continued, in  some  measure,  after  he  began  deliver- 
ing lectures,  because  he  had  then  so  much  use  for 
his  voice,  but  never  entirely.  He  read  to  me  every 
thing  that  was  interesting  in  the  newspapers  and 
reviews,  and  some  other  things,  as  long  as  he  lived  ; 
and  always  told  me  about  what  he  read,  when  he 
could  do  no  more.  His  peculiar  preference  in  books 
was  for  those  which  contained  facts, —  history,  biog- 
raphy and  travels.  He  read  all  the  '  Waverley 
Novels '  with  much  delight,  and  Miss  Sedgwick's 
with  a  heartfelt  and  affectionate  interest ;  but  not 
many  others,  while  I  knew  him.  He  was  fond  of 
Shakspeare  and  Milton,  but  was  indifferent  to  most 
modern  poetry,  and  to  metaphysics.  He  had  so 
much  professional  reading  to  do,  that  he,  preferred 
things  that  taxed  the  mind  less. 

"  I  think  he  had  ambition, —  the  ambition  that 
aspires  to  true  excellence,  and  proposes  to  itself 
honorable  rewards.  It  was  not  grasping  in  its  nat- 
ure, however,  nor  did  it  interfere  with  his  other 
habits.  I  remember  that  Judge  Jackson  told  him, 
when  he  was  about  two-and-thirty,  that  he  might 
come  to  Boston  and  live  without  any  risk,  and  he 
would  be  sure  of  the  best  kind  of  business  ;  but  he 
loved  the  tranquillity  of  the  country,  and  did  not 
court  a  city  life." 

My  aunt,  in  another  portion  of  her  memoir,  relates 
the  fact  of  her  husband's  close  intimacy  with  the 
Sedgwick  family,  and  the  deep  enjoyment  they  both 


JUDGE  HOWE'S  RELIGIOUS  VIEWS        237 

had  in  it  through  life.  She  thus  describes  the 
change  in  her  husband's  religious  views:  — 

"  Previous  to  my  marriage,  I  had  never  conversed 
with  my  husband  on  religious  opinions,  although  I 
knew  that  he  was  sincerely  religious,  both  in  princi- 
ple and  feeling.  The  controversial  questions  since 
agitated  were  not  then  much  talked  of.  I  had  been 
often  to  hear  Dr.  Channing,  Mr.  Buckminster,  Mr. 
Thacher  and  others  preach.  Their  faith  seemed 
to  me  that  which  was  delivered  to  the  saints ;  and 
I  never  liked  the  Calvinist  preaching,  which  I  hearc" 
enough  of  at  Milton. 

"  One  Sunday  evening,  not  long  after  my  mar- 
riage, I  expressed  my  views  of  religion  very  fully. 
Your  father  seemed  to  think  me  in  great  error,  and 
reprehended  me  with  a  good  deal  of  decision.  I 
was  rather  hurt,  perhaps  more  so  than  the  occasion 
warranted.  I  made  an  internal  resolution  not  to 
introduce  the  subject  again.  I  knew  I  could  agree 
to  differ  about  mere  opinion.  About  two  years 
after,  your  father  met  Henry  D.  Sedgwick  at  the 
Berkshire  Court.  Sedgwick  was  fond  of  argument, 
and  a  zealous  Unitarian.  They  talked  together  on 
the  subject.  Sedgwick  lent  your  father  '  Yates's  An- 
swer to  Wardlaw.'  This  book  and  the  New  Testa- 
ment he  read  with  care,  after  his  return  home,  com- 
paring it  with  Scripture;  and  was  entirely  convinced 
of  the  truth  and  reasonableness  of  the  Unitarian 
faith,  which  he  afterwards  held  through  life.  He 
was  much  interested,  and  read  a  great  deal  upon  the 
subject.  Jt  was  a  most  sincere  delight  to  me  that 
the  only  difference    of   opinion    of   any    importance 


itf  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

between  us  was  removed.  I  told  him  how  glad  I 
was,  and  glad  likewise  that  it  was  effected  without 
my  influence.  He  had  the  kindness  to  say,  'You  do 
not  know  how  much  your  conduct  has  influenced 
me."  If  I  had  controverted  with  him  in  my  imper- 
fect manner  he  might  have  refuted  me,  and  never, 
or  not  for  a  long  period,  have  investigated  the  sub- 
ject ;  for  we  lived  away  from  what  I  considered  re- 
ligious privileges.  But  I  had  the  happiness  to  prove 
to  him  that  I  feared  God  and  regarded  man ;  and  he 
was  interested  in  the  foundation  of  my  faith,  and 
felt  that  it  would  be  a  privilege  to  think  with  me  on 
a  subject  of  so  much  importance.  I  bless  God  for 
the  result :  our  religious  sympathy  was  a  new  bond 
between  us." 

In  another  portion  of  this  memoir,  my  aunt  makes 
a  long  quotation  from  a  letter  of  Miss  Sedgwick  to 
herself ;  one  of  the  sentences  seems  to  have  been 
left  incomplete  in  the  original;  it  is  printed  just  as 
it  stands  :  — 

"  He  always  seemed  to  me  more  highly  gifted  in 
his  social  powers  than  almost  any  one  I  ever  have 
known.  He  set  a  high  value  on  the  social  relations, 
affections,  and  enjoyments.  He  made  them  a  dis- 
tinct object  of  attention.  They  were  not  to  him 
incidental  and  subordinate,  as  to  most  professional, 
active,  and  busy  men.  They  were  not  means,  but 
ends  ;  he  gave  his  time  and  talents  to  them.  His 
character  was  fitted  for  friendship  and  the  tenderest 
relations.  His  sound  judgment,  his  rational  views, 
the  equanimity  and  forbearance  of  his  temper,  and 
his  pleasant  vein  of  humor,  which,  if  it  seldom  rose 


MISS  SEDGWICK'S  TESTIMONY  239 

to  wit,  was  as  superior  to  it  for  domestic  purposes 
as  the  ready  and  benignant  smile  is  to  the  loud  and 
boisterous  laugh.  He  had  a  decided  love  and  pref- 
erence for  female  society,  and  that  indulgence  for 
us  which  has  marked  all  the  men  of  noble  spirit 
that  I  have  known." 

To  Miss  Sedgwick's  testimony,  my  aunt  adds : 
"This  love  of  female  society  I  have  often  heard  him 
dwell  upon.  He  said  he  did  not  like  to  hear  women 
claim  equality  of  talent  ;  they  had  no  need  of  it. 
Women  were  more  disinterested,  more  single- 
hearted  than  men  (that  was  his  experience  among 
his  associates) ;  and  they  ought  to  be  satisfied  with 
being  better,  without  contesting  the  question  of 
intellectual  equality." 

It  is  hard  to  take  only  passages  from  a  biography 
so  perfect ;  but  I  close  them,  as  my  dear  aunt  did 
her  memoir,  with  these  lines, — 

"  And  is  lie  dead,  whose  glorious  mind 
Lifts  thine  on  high? 
To  live  in  hearts  we  leave  behind 
Is  not  to  die." 


CHAPTER   XIII.  • 

Let  us  be  patient  I  these  severe  afflictions 

Not  from  the  ground  arise, 
But  oftentimes  celestial  benedictions 

Assume  this  dark  disguise. 

We  see  but  dimly  through  the  mists  and  vapors ; 

Amid  these  early  damps, 
What  seem  to  us  but  dim,  funereal  tapers, 

May  be  Heaven's  distant  lamps. 

There  is  no  death !  what  seems  so  is  transition  ! 

This  life  of  mortal  breath 
Is  but  a  suburb  of  the  life  elysian, 

Whose  portal  we  call  death. 

We  will  be  patient !  and  assuage  the  feeling 

We  cannot  wholly  stay ; 
By  silence  sanctifying,  not  concealing 

The  grief  that  must  have  way. 

Longfellow. 

A  FTER  my  Uncle  Howe's  death,  my  mother 
■*"*■  received  many  letters  from  friends  who  had 
loved  and  appreciated  him.  She  kept  one  from  Mr. 
Emerson,  with  peculiar  care. 

To  Abby  she  wrote  a  long  letter,  pouring  all  her 
sorrow  into  this  faithful  and  sympathizing  heart. 
But  I  will  only  extract  one  passage.  After  speak- 
ing of  the  loss  to  those  nearest,  and  to  the  commu- 
nity, she  says  :  "  For  our  own  family  I  can  say  that 
death  has  taken  such  a  friend  and  counsellor  as  the 
world  cannot  furnish  us  with,  and  left  in  its  place  a 


LETTER  FROM  R.   W.  EMERSON  241 

deep-rooted  sorrow,  which  I  hope  may  lay  the  foun- 
dation of  many  virtues.  But  it  is  a  hard  exchange. 
It  is  sorrow  which  marks  with  strongest  impression 
our  experience  in  this  life,  much  more  than  any  of 
the  joyful  occurrences  in  it.  Some  author  I  have 
lately  read  observes,  '  It  is  sorrow  which  teaches  us 
to  feel  properly  for  ourselves  and  for  others.'  We 
must  feel  deeply  before  we  can  think  rightly.  It  is 
not  in  the  tempest  and  storm  of  passions  that  we 
can  reflect,  but  aftcrzvards,  when  the  waters  have 
gone  over  the  soul ;  and  like  the  precious  gems  and 
the  rich  merchandise  which  the  wild  wave  casts 
upon  the  shore  out  of  the  wreck  it  has  made, —  such 
are  the  thoughts  left  by  retiring  passions.  Reflec- 
tion is  the  result  of  feeling.  It  is  from  an  all-absorb- 
ing, heart-rending  compassion  for  one's  self,  that 
springs  a  deeper  sympathy  for  others ;  and  from 
the  sense  of  our  own  weakness,  and  our  own  self- 
upbraiding,  arises  a  disposition  to  be  indulgent,  to 
forbear  and  -to  forgive.  At  least,  such  I  believe  to 
be  the  intention  of  Providence  in  permitting  sorrow 
to  exist  in  the  world." 

Mr.    R.    IV.    Emerson   to  Mrs.    Lyman,    Divinity   Hall,    Cambridge, 
Feb.  11,  1S28. 

My  dear  Madam, —  It  was  very  kind  of  you  to 
think  of  me  again.  I  have  thought  of  little  else 
lately  than  the  irreparable  loss  which  yourself  and 
your  friends  and  your  town  have  sustained.  It  will 
not  be  the  least  of  the  many  alleviations  of  this 
grievous  affliction  that  it  is  felt  as  it  should  be 
throughout    the    community.     The   world    is   not    so 


242  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

selfish  but  that  such  a  bereavement  as  this  is  felt 
as  their  own  by  society  at  large.  I  do  not  surely 
allude  to  this  sympathy  as  if  it  yielded  a  gratification 
to  vanity  in  the  general  attention  our  own  calami- 
ties excite ;  but  from  a  far  higher  reason,  that  it  is 
grateful  to  us  as  justifying  our  own  grief  in  giving 
us  the  testimony  of  mankind,  that  our  partial  affec- 
tions have  not  misled  our  judgments,  but  that  the 
object  on  which  we  have  spent  our  affections,  was 
worthy  of  them.  This  makes  the  value  of  the 
unanimous  tribute  of  respect  and  sorrow  that  has 
been  paid  to  the  memory  of  your  friend. 

To  me,  if  it  is  not  idle  to  speak  of  myself,  his 
death  was  a  most  unexpected  disappointment.  I 
had  rejoiced  in  my  good  fortune  in  making  his 
acquaintance,  and  looked  forward  with  earnestness 
to  its  continuance.  His  acquaintance  was  a  priv- 
ilege, which  I  think  no  young  man  of  correct  feel- 
ings could  enjoy  without  being  excited  to  an  ambi- 
tion that  he  might  deserve  his  friendship.  But  it 
has  pleased  God  to  remove  him. 

I  cannot  but  think  there  is  the  highest  consola- 
tion in  the  occasion  of  his  sickness,  and  the  manner 
of  his  death,  which  have  filled  up  the  beauty  of  his 
life,  and  have  left  nothing  to  be  amended,  if  they 
have  left  much  to  be  desired.  In  such  a  death  of 
such  a  man,  if  there  must  be  to  his  family  and 
friends  the  deepest  grief,  there  must  be  also  to 
them  a  feeling  of  deep  and  holy  joy.  There  is 
something  in  his  character  which  seems  to  make 
excessive  sorrow  unseasonable  and  unjust  to  his 
memory ;  and  all  who  have  heard  of  his  death  have 


EMERSON'S  FRIENDSHIP  243 

derived  from  it  new  force  to  virtue  and  new  confi- 
dence to  faith. 

You  will  have  the  goodness  to  offer  my  respect- 
ful condolence  to  Mrs.  Howe ;  I  was  denied,  by- 
accidents,  even  the  melancholy  satisfaction  of  at- 
tending the  funeral  of  Judge  Howe.  The  following 
day  I  was  in  town,  and  learned  at  Mrs.  Revere's 
that  Judge  Lyman  and  Mrs.  Howe  had  returned 
home. 

I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  that  your  children  have 
been  so  sick.  I  trust  they  are  wholly  well.  I  have 
the  greatest  regard  for  my  little  friends,  though 
it  is  probable  they  have  forgotten  their  ancient 
admirer  before  this  time.  I  want  to  become  ac- 
quainted with  Joseph,  but  Charles  thinks  the  air  of 
Divinity  Hall  altogether  too  musty  to  suit  his  youth- 
ful friend.  I  read  to  my  brother  your  kind  remem- 
brances. He  is  very  fond  of  your  son,  and  very 
happy  to  second  his  own  ambition,  in  giving  him 
his  just  place  in  college. 

Please  to  make  my  respects  to  Judge  Lyman, 
whom  I  hope  to  see  when  he  is  in  town  again. 

With  great  regard,  madam,  your  faithful  friend 
and  servant, 

R.  Waldo  Emerson. 

Mrs.  Lyman  to  Miss  Forbes,  Northampton,  March  14,  1S2S. 

My  dear  Emma, —  I  have  fallen  on  you  of  late 
as  the  fittest  subject  for  neglect.  But  in  doing  so 
I  deserve  great  credit,  let  me  tell  you.  For  in  no 
instance  could  I  make  a  greater  sacrifice  amongst 
my  correspondents  than   in  giving  up  your  letters. 


244  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

I  should  have  a  great  deal  to  say  about  my  disap- 
pointment in  not  seeing  yourself  and  Ben  net  this 
winter,  but  you  know  that  a  bitterer  feeling  has 
filled  the  place  of  all  minor  considerations  ;  and  all 
disappointments  appear  insignificant  to  me  when 
I  think  of  the  chasm  made  in  our  social  circle, 
which  can  never  be  contemplated  by  me  except 
with  a  feeling  of  the  most  poignant  regret.  It  is 
true,  our  religion  furnishes  us  with  the  delightful 
hope  of  a  reunion  with  those  we  love,  and  with 
a  perfect  confidence  in  the  goodness  of  an  all-wise 
Judge,  who  has  ordered  these  things  for  our  good. 
But  there  is  an  earthly  feeling  which  will  accom- 
pany us  through  this  terrene  abode,  and  the  wants 
of  our  gross  nature,  whether  of  a  corporeal  or  of  an 
intellectual  kind,  will  be  listened  to.  We  shall  as 
naturally  seek  for  sympathy  in  the  confiding  bosom 
we  have  made  the  repository  of  our  kindest  and  best 
affections  and  inmost  thoughts,  when  we  have 
realized  a  reciprocation  of  the  same,  as  we  shall 
seek  food  when  oppressed  with  hunger.  And  we 
shall  as  naturally  deplore  our  inability  to  indulge 
the  one  as  the  other,  notwithstanding  our  religion 
and  our  reason  instruct  us  to  be  patient,  and  go  on 
with  the  duties  of  life  with  renewed  vigor,  and  if 
possible  make  up  to  the  world  by  our  efforts  for 
the  excellence  it  has  lost.  I  feel  how  necessary 
the  chastisements  of  Providence  arc  to  extract 
vanity  and  folly  from  our  hearts,  and  convince  us 
of  the  real  blessings  of  life.  When  we  see  the 
main  pillars,  the  strongest  props  of  virtue  laid  low, 
we  must  feel  that  earth  has  been  a  loser  unless  it 
strengthens  the  virtues  of  those  who  remain. 


IN  MEMORY  OF  JUDGE  HOWE  245 

I  have  just  been  called  to  listen  to  the  complaints 
of  the  widow  and  the  orphan,  who  close  with  saying, 
"It  would  not  be  so,  if  Judge  Howe  was  living." 
There  are  a  kind  of  people  who  are  kept  straight 
by  fear  of  the  inspection  of  the  wise  and  good  of 
their  neighborhood,  and  the  want  of  that  restraint 
we  shall  feel  more  and  more  every  day. 

Sally  has  been  wonderfully  carried  along  thus  far, 
but  I  think  she  has  only  begun  a  new  existence  in 
(to  her)  a  new  world,  the  difficulties  of  which  will 
be  every  day  developing  themselves ;  and  I  trust 
they  will  find  her  endowed  with  new  power  to  meet 
them.  She  is  fortunate  in  being  able  to  have  Cath- 
erine with  her,  for  her  spirits  would  not  admit  of  her 
giving  much  direction  to  the  children,  and  C.  is  of 
the  greatest  importance  to  the  comfort  of  the  family. 

Northampton,  Oct.  6,  1828. 

My  dear  Emma, —  I  suppose  you  received  by 
John  a  very  ungrateful  message  from  me,  which 
was,  that  I  did  not  write  to  you  because  I  had  writ- 
ten to  everybody  else.  Now,  the  compliment  you 
must  extract  from  this  apparent  unkindness,  after 
all  you  have  done  and  suifered  for  me  and  mine, 
is,  that  I  expected  more  patient  forbearance  from 
you  than  any  one  else. 

Miss  Sedgwick  got  here  Saturday  evening,  and 
I  was  greatly  disappointed  that  she  did  not,  as  she 
had  promised  to,  come  directly  here;  but  she  ex- 
plained it  to  my  satisfaction, —  though  I  could  not 
help  feeling  very  much  grieved  to  see  so  little  of 
her.     But  according  to  the  admirable  system  of  com- 


246  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

pensation  which  marks  the  kind  Hand  that  adminis- 
ters our  portion,  there  was  still  a  great  indulgence  in 
store  for  me,  though  it  was  to  endure  but  for  a  short 
time.  Miss  S.  had  in  her  company  a  lady  who 
joined  her  and  spent  much  of  the  day  with  me. 
Mrs.  Griffith  I  will  not  pretend  to  describe  to  you, 
for  she  is  of  that  nonpareil  cast  that  baffles  my  skill 
altogether ;  but  I  can  refer  you  to  a  characteristic 
of  her  mind  in  a  production  of  hers  to  be  found 
in  the  last  "North  American"  "On  Bees."  Last 
evening  H.  sat  deeply  engaged  in  your  favorite 
occupation — biting  his  nails  —  which  it  seems  she 
had  admonished  him  for  before.  She  took  her  pen- 
cil, and  wrote  on  the  blank  leaf  of  a  small  volume 
of  poems  with  which  she  had  presented  him,  and 
which  lay  near  her,  the  following  impromptu  :  — • 

"  In  France,  where  the  grape  luxuriant  grows, 
A  Frenchman  feeds  on  snails  ; 
But  here,  where  a  feast  of  reason  flows, 
No  need  of  a  feast  of  nails." 

You  will  not  wonder  at  my  introducing  you  to 
a  person  of  such  striking  quickness  and  aptness  of 
thought  and  expression.  Her  occupation  has  been 
for  many  years  the  cultivation  of  the  most  remark- 
able nursery  of  trees  in  this  country  ;  and  the  object 
of  her  visit  to  Boston  was  to  see  agricultural  gentle- 
men, with  whom  she  wishes  to  hold  correspondence. 
She  was  left  a  widow  many  years  since,  with  seven 
children,  and  no  other  property  than  an  estate  in 
New  Jersey,  on  the  Raritan,  called  Charley's  Hope. 
It  was  then  unproductive ;  but,  by  her  great  energy 


VISIT  FROM  MRS.  GRIFFITH  247 

and  management,  she  has  for  many  years  obtained 
an  income  of  six  thousand  dollars  from  it,  and  main- 
tained her  family  in  splendor,  as  well  as  great 
comfort. 

We  felt  very  sorry  to  have  the  ladies  leave  us  this 
morning,  and  H.  is  quite  dejected  about  it;  but  he 
has  consoled  himself  as  well  as  he  could  with  going 
to  the  mountain  this  morning,  —  and  a  brighter  and 
more  beautiful  day  never  shone  in  October.  It 
rained  all  last  evening,  which  prevented  my  tak- 
ing my  heroine  up  to  see  Mrs.  Howe,  but  which 
has  improved  all  external  appearances  indescribably. 
The  verdure  is  everywhere  as  perfect  as  it  was  in 
June,  and  the  trees  have  not  yet  assumed  their 
autumnal  garb.  Miss  Sedgwick  spent  the  evening 
with  Sally,  and  gave  her  the  particulars  of  the  Cabot 
experiences. 

I  wish  you  would  make  application  to  Dr.  Harris 
for  the  best  account  of  the  natural  history  of  the 
aphis,  or  aphidea  ;  and  either  copy  it  for  me,  or  point 
me  to  the  place  where  I  can  find  it.  You  know  he 
is  a  distinguished  entomologist,  and  has  made  com- 
munications on  this  subject  to  the  public  by  means 
of  the  "New  England  Farmer."  Give  my  love  to 
your  mother  and  Mary,  and  tell  the  former  that  we 
shall  long  remember  and  be  grateful  for  her  kind 
attentions  to  Anne  Jean,  who  is  continually  talking 
of  and  enjoying  her  past  experiences. 
Your  affectionate 

A.  J.  Lyman. 


248  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

In  1829  my  sister  Mary  was  married  to  Mr. 
Thomas  Jones,  of  Enfield.  She  was  of  a  most 
lovely  and  affectionate  nature;  and  her  departure 
was  a  serious  loss  to  the  family  circle.  She  had 
always  been  specially  devoted  to  our  father's  com- 
fort ;  and  once,  in  a  moment  of  confidence,  told  my 
Cousin  Martha  that  she  had  never  in  her  life  wanted 
to  do  any  thing  that  he  did  not  wish.  Though  I  was 
but  six  years  old  at  the  time  of  her  marriage,  I  recall 
vividly  the  bitterness  of  the  parting  from  her,  and 
the  homesick  longing  for  her  I  experienced  for  many 
months.  For  I  had  slept  with  her  from  the  time 
of  my  infancy,  and  her  care  and  love  had  been 
boundless.  A  vision  of  her  always  rises  to  my 
memory,  as  she  sat  at  her  window  in  the  room  above 
the  office,  bending  over  a  neat  little  board  covered 
with  flannel,  on  which  she  laid  the  linen  cambric 
ruffles  of  our  father's  shirts  in  the  most  exquisitely 
fine  plaits.  She  had  large  and  beautiful  eyes,  and 
a  most  tender  and  loving  heart. 

My  Uncle  Howe's  death  had  been  the  beginning 
of  a  series  of  changes  which  deeply  affected  both 
my  parents.  In  1829,  my  Grandfather  Robbins 
died;  and  in  1830,  the  sudden  death  of  little  Annie 
Jean  Greene,  my  Cousin  Abby's  beautiful  little 
daughter  (to  whom  she  had  given  my  mother's 
name),  called  out  all  the  deepest  sympathies  of  my 
mother's  heart. 

Mr.  R.  IV.  Emerson  to  Mrs.  Lyman,  Boston,  Aug.  25,  1S29. 

My  dear  Madam, —  My  friend,  Mr.  George  P. 
Bradford,  has   promised   to   give   Mr.    Hall   a  "labor 


EMERSON  INTRODUCES  MR.  BRADFORD    249 

of  love"  next  Sunday,  on  his  return  through  North- 
ampton from  New  York,  whither  he  has  gone  with 
his  sisters, —  a  victim  of  the  travelling  passion. 
And  as  Mr.  Bradford  is  a  man  of  mark  among  his 
friends,  I  want  him  to  have  the  happiness  —  which 
I  shall  grudge  him,  too — -of  spending  half  an  hour 
at  your  house.  But  who  is  Mr.  Bradford  ?  He  is 
Mrs.  Ripley's  brother,  and  a  fine  classical  and  bib- 
lical scholar,  and  a  botanist,  and  a  lover  of  truth, 
and  "  an  Israelite,  in  whom  is  no  guile,"  and  a  kind 
of  Cowper,  and  a  great  admirer  of  all  admirable 
things  ;  and  so  I  want  him  to  go  to  your  house, 
where  his  eyes  and  his  ears  shall  be  enriched  with 
what  he  loves. 

I  went  yesterday  to  Cambridge,  and  saw  your 
friend,  Professor  Ashmun,  inaugurated.  .  .  .  As  far 
as  I  can  guess,  the  appointment  of  him  is  a  very 
judicious  one.  It  was  a  fine  assembly,  free  of  all 
crowd  and  fatigue,  and  contained  some  of  the  finest 
people  in  America.  I  sat  (as  it  is  always  expedient 
to  do  on  public  occasions)  next  to  Mr.  Upham,  of 
Salem,  and  got  him  to  point  me  out  the  lions, —  for 
he  is  a  man  having  the  organ  of  society  in  very 
large  development,  and  knows  all  men  in  the  United 
States  ;  and  one  could  not  desire  a  more  eloquent 
expounder  of  their  various  merits. 

I  hope  yourseli  and  Judge  Lyman  are  well.  I  am 
truly  sorry  that  the  distresses  of  the  time  should 
have  come  so  near  your  friends.  God  seems  to 
make  some  of  his  children  for  prosperity,  they  bear 
it  so  gracefully,  and  with  such  good  will  of  society; 
and    it    is    always    painful    when    such    suffer.      But 


250  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

I  suppose  it  is  always  dangerous,  and  especially  to 
the  very  young.  In  college,  I  used  to  echo  a  fre- 
quent ejaculation  of  my  wise  Aunt's  :  "Oh,  blessed, 
blessed  poverty  !  "  when  I  saw  young  men  of  fine 
capabilities  whose  only  and  fatal  disadvantage  was 
wealth.  It  is  sad  to  see  it  taken  from  those  who 
know  how  to  use  it ;  but  children  whose  prospects 
are  changed  may  hereafter  rejoice  at  the  event. 

We  get  no  good  news  from  Mr.  Ware,  except 
that  he  is  no  worse  ;  but  he  now  writes  that  he  is 
really  no  better  than  when  he  left  home.  We  had 
so  many  flattering  rumors,  that  this  sounds  worse. 
It  is  really  good  ground  to  hope  that  he  has  no 
seated  consumption,  I  think,  if  after  so  long  an 
interval  he  remains  as  well  ;  and  a  winter  in  Italy 
may  do  much. 

Charles  has  just  been  in  to  see  me,  much  rejoic- 
ing in  having  turned  the  key  for  the  last  time  in 
his  school-house,  and  in  the  prospect  of  living  again 
with  Joseph  Lyman,  at  Cambridge.  .  .  . 

I  am,  with  respectful  remembrances  to  Judge 
Lyman,  and  to  the  family, 

Dear  madam,  yours  affectionately, 

R.  Waldo  Emerson. 

In  the  autumn  of  1829,  my  mother  decided  to 
send  our  dear  Annie  to  Boston,  to  Mr.  George  B. 
Emerson's  school.  When  I  recall  how  close  and 
tender  the  tie  was  that  bound  her  to  her  children, 
and  what  a  delight  to  her  their  perpetual  presence, 
I  realize  fully  the  sacrifice  she  so  often  made  in  the 
long   separations    from    them    which    she    cheerfully 


ANNE  JEAN  AWAY  AT  SCHOOL  25 1 

endured.  It  was  a  part  of  that  large,  generous, 
and  broad  outlook  she  took  of  life,  that  she  could 
never  feel  she  had  done  her  whole  duty  to  children, 
if  she  had  only  given  them  herself.  I  have  often 
heard  her  say,  that  she  did  not  think  young  people 
who  had  lived  always  in  the  bosom  of  their  families 
were  as  well  fitted  to  cope  with  the  after-trials  of 
life,  or  to  understand  the  various  characters  they 
would  be  sure  to  come  in  contact  with,  as  those 
who  had  a  wider  experience.  She  thought  that 
family  peculiarities  were  rubbed  off  or  lessened  by 
attrition  with  other  families  ;  and  that  young  people 
became  more  liberal  and  enlarged  by  finding  out 
that  there  were  a  great  many  roads  to  the  same 
place. 

My  mother  had  the  greatest  satisfaction  in  Mr. 
Emerson's  school. 

To  her  daughter,  Northampton,  Nov.  15,  1829. 

My  dear  Anne  Jean, —  I  was  sorry  the  cloak  did 
not  suit  you  any  better,  but  it  was  made  like  one 
from  New  York  which  we  supposed  to  be  the  height 
of  the  fashion,  as  was  the  size  of  the  cord.  I  have 
sent  you  some  money  to  pay  for  the  dyeing  of  the 
gown.  If  there  should  be  an  opportunity  to  send 
it  by  Maria  Hunt's  bundle  for  me  to  make,  you  had 
better.  Your  cloak  was  made,  with  my  assistance, 
for  forty  cents,  which  could  not  have  been  done 
in  Boston  under  five  dollars.  It  is  the  multiplica- 
tion of  such  little  expenses  that  in  the  aggregate 
make  large  sums.  Now,  the  dyeing  and  fixing  of 
your  merino  will  be  all  the  expense  of  a  new  dress, 


252  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

if  you  carry  it  to  a  mantua-maker  in  Boston ;  but 
if  you  will  describe  how  you  wish  it  to  differ  from 
your  other  gowns,  I  will  attend  strictly  to  your 
orders.  You  said  nothing  about  the  worked  collar, 
but  I  hope  you  have  got  it,  and  that  it  suited  you 
better  than  the  cloak  did.  I  moreover  hope  you 
will  live  to  see  what  I  probably  shall  not, —  a  mil- 
lennial existence,  one  in  which  there  will  be  no 
sorrow  about  clothes  ;  where  the  only  anxiety  people 
will  have  will  be  how  they  will  do  the  most  good 
with  their  time  and  talents.  I  do  not  care  how 
much  anxiety  you  expend  on  these  objects.  Clothe 
your  mind,  for  that  will  never  wear  out,  if  you 
take  care  of  it ;  and  it  is  an  inexhaustible  fund  of 
usefulness  to  others,  as  well  as  one's  self.  The 
ability  to  instruct  those  who  want  for  intellectual 
light  is  vastly  better  than  the  ability  to  give  money 
(as  the  case  may  be)  ;  and  it  is  an  independent  re- 
source that  we  can  control  without  the  interference 
of  third  persons.  Give  my  love  to  your  grand- 
mother ;  and,  whenever  you  have  any  time,  take  your 
work  and  go  and  sit  with  her.  I  am  very  sorry  to 
hear  of  your  grandfather's  lameness ;  when  you 
write,  you  must  mention  how  he  is.  .  .  . 

The  fringe  will  do  very  well.  Give  my  love  to 
your  Aunt  Revere ;  I  want  to  hear  how  she  gets 
along  weaning  the  babies.  I  hope  the  crowd  has 
passed  by,  so  that  she  will  have  a  little  time  left  to 
herself ;  for  it  appears  to  me  her  life  is  a  good  deal 
like  mine, —  broken  up  by  innumerable  casualties, 
leaving  us  but  little  control  of  our  time  or  thoughts. 
John  is  a  good  boy,  but  I  cannot  get  him  to  write 


THE  MILLENNIUM  OF  DRESS  253 

very  elegant  epistles  ;  but  I  hope  his  mother  won't 
think  the  fault  is  in  me.  The  fact  is,  he  don't  love 
to  write, —  nor  does  any  little  boy  of  his  age, —  and 
he  will  not  take  the  pains  to  do  nearly  as  well  as  he 
could.  Tell  Joseph  the  man  has  gone  away  that 
engaged  to  do  his  chair. 

Your  affectionate  Mother. 

Now,  there  was  not  the  smallest  occasion  for 
desiring  "a  millennial  existence,"  as  far  as  the 
dress  of  the  dear  Anne  was  concerned.  She  was 
a  pattern  of  the  most  exquisite  neatness  and  the 
strictest  economy.  Oh,  I  can  imagine  that  cloak 
that  was  "in  the  height  of  the  fashion,"  made  up 
for  forty  cents,  after  "  a  pattern  from  New  York ;  " 
and  I  know  well  why  it  caused  sorrow !  What 
would  my  dear  mother  say  noiv,  if  she  could  come 
back  and  see  the  overskirts  and  trimmings  of  the 
present  day  ?  Surely,  not  that  the  millennium  of 
dress  is  near  at  hand! 

Northampton,  Dec.  30,  1829. 

Mv  dear  Mrs.  Barnard, —  I  received  your  last 
letter  yesterday  evening.  I  feel  much  obliged  to 
you  for  writing,  for  it  must  be  a  trial  to  Mr.  Lyman 
to  have  to  write  the  same  thing  so  many  times  as  he 
has.  My  father's  illness,  considering  its  cause,  has 
been  wonderfully  protracted.  It  must  have  been 
many  weeks  since  he  could  have  derived  any  nutri- 
ment from  any  thing  he  has  taken.  But  we  must 
recollect  that  his  disease  attacked  him  in  the  full 
vigor  of  an  unimpaired  constitution.     It  is  not  there- 


254  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

fore  strange  that  there  should  be  a  powerful  resist- 
ance at  the  close. 

It  seems,  perhaps,  to  you,  as  if  it  would  be  diffi- 
cult for  me  to  realize  (without  being  on  the  spot  and 
witnessing  the  whole  scene)  the  departure  of  my 
father,  whom  I  have  had  so  few  interviews  with  for 
eighteen  years.  But  imagination  is  a  powerful 
agent  in  presenting  the  images  of  our  friends,  and 
enforcing  by  irresistible  associations  upon  our  minds 
their  presence,  their  thoughts,  their  views  on  all 
subjects,  as  similar  ones  occur.  And,  perhaps,  no 
one  was  ever  led  more  frequently  to  recur  to  and 
quote  the  opinions  of  another,  than  I  have  been  to 
those  of  my  father, —  believing  his  mind  (as  children 
are  prone  to)  to  be  a  fountain  of  wisdom  and  inflexi- 
ble virtue,  founded  in  genuine  and  sincere  religious 
feeling.  If  I  did  not  think  so,  I  should  have  been 
forced  to  the  belief  that  he  was  a  hypocrite,  for  no 
one  ever  had  more  constantly  on  their  lips  the  sense 
of  dependence  on  God,  and  more  frequently  ex- 
pressed their  confidence  in  the  provisions  of  his 
providence  and  grace.  His  conduct  in  relation  to 
the  divisions  in  the  town  of  Milton  have  been  pecu- 
liarly illustrative  of  his  love  of  peace.  I  speak  of 
this  as  an  incontrovertible  proof  of  his  true  love  of 
practical  religion.  Mr.  Bigelow,  a  clergyman  now 
staying  with  me,  who  knew  my  father  in  the  eastern 
country,  thinks  there  are  few  men  in  our  country, 
if  any,  who  have  done  so  much  for  religious  institu- 
tions as  he  has,  and  that  the  imperishable  monu- 
ments of  his  influence  will  be  felt  in  that  country 
to  remotest  generations.     Here  I  will  stop;  for  no 


DEATH  OF  HON  E.  H.  ROB  BINS  255 

one  doubts  he  was  an  active  supporter  of  the  prin- 
ciple and  practice  of  virtue  in  all  its  forms,  and  that 
he  has  been  in  the  hands  of  Providence  an  instru- 
ment of  much  good  in  his  day  and  generation. 

I  feel  grateful  that  my  father  should  have  come  to 
the  close  of  life,  without  having  experienced  the 
torpor  and  uselessness  of  old  age ;  and  that  his 
mind,  with  all  its  sensibility  and  sympathy,  should 
have  remained  till  the  close.  It  is  ever  to  be  re- 
gretted, when  friends  survive  their  usefulness  long 
enough  to  consider  themselves  cumberers  of  the 
ground,  or  to  have  their  friends  consider  them  in 
that  light.  And  still  our  regret  must  always  be 
deeper,  and  the  loss  of  our  friends  more  to  be  de- 
plored, when  they  are  taken  from  a  sphere  of  emi- 
nent usefulness,  as  is  the  case  with  my  beloved 
father.  At  the  period  he  was  taken  ill,  his  connec- 
tion with  the  world  was  as  strong  as  it  had  been  at 
any  period  of  his  life,  and  the  duties  he  was  engaged 
in  as  important  to  its  interests.  But  the  Disposer 
of  all  events  has  ordered  this  in  wisdom,  and  it  is 
not  for  us  to  say  that  we  can  imagine  a  better  way, 
or  a  better  time.  It  would  have  been  an  unspeak- 
able satisfaction  to  me  to  have  seen  my  father  again  ; 
but  if  I  had  been  there,  Mr.  Lyman  could  not  have 
been  away  at  this  time,  and  I  view  his  presence  of 
so  much  more  importance  than  mine  could  have 
been,  that  I  have  reconciled  my  mind  to  the  depriva- 
tion. I  take  much  pleasure  in  contemplating  the 
revelations  concerning  the  future  to  the  good. 
"Behold  I  make  all  things  new."  May  we  not  ex- 
pect a  renovation  of  the  moral  as  well  as  the  vital 


256  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

principle,  and  at  the  same  time  that  there  is  an  end 
to  pain,  sickness,  and  death  ? 

Mr.  R.  W.  Emersoti  to  Mrs.  Lyman,  Boston,  Jan.  6,  1830. 

My  dear  Madam, —  I  cannot  help  offering  you 
my  condolence  on  the  new  loss  you  have  been  called 
to  bear,  which,  with  all  its  alleviations,  cannot  but 
be  a  painful  one.  I  never  have  had  the  happiness 
of  any  acquaintance  with  your  father,  but  he  appears 
to  have  enjoyed  in  an  eminent  degree,  what  is  much 
more  rare  than  public  applause,  the  confidence  of 
the  community.  He  has  lived  long  and  usefully, 
beloved  and  honored.  He  has  not  been  taken  from 
you  till  every  office  of  parent  and  friend  had  been 
discharged,  and  till  he  had  reached  that  period  of 
life,  when  you  could  not  reasonably  expect  for  any 
long  time  the  continuance  of  his  powers  of  action 
and  enjoyment.  Still,  I  know  very  well  that  these 
circumstances,  whilst  they  qualify,  do  not  yet  re- 
move the  grief  which  the  loss  of  a  good  parent 
awakens ;  and  I  doubt  not  you  find  your  best  relief 
in  those  consolations  which  never  grow  old,  which 
spring  from  the  hopes  which  our  Saviour  has 
imparted  to  us.  Take  away  those  hopes,  and  death 
is  more  ghastly  to  the  soul  than  the  corpse  to  the 
eye.  Receive  them,  and  the  riddle  of  the  universe 
is  explained ;  an  account  given  of  events  perfectly 
consistent  with  what  we  feel  in  ourselves,  when  we 
are  best. 

My  wife  unites  with  me  in  expressions  of  par- 
ticular regard  to  yourself  and  Judge  Lyman,  and  to 
your  family.  Give  me  leave  to  say  a  word  to  him 
for  a  friend  on  the  other  page. 


LETTERS  FROM  R.  W.  EMERSON         257 

Respectfully,  dear  madam,  your  friend  and  ser- 
vant, 

R.  Waldo  Emerson. 

Boston,  Jan.  21,  1830. 

My  dear  Madam, —  I  had  mislaid  the  enclosed 
letter,  till  it  was  so  old  that  I  hesitated  at  sending 
it  at  all,  until  I  met  Mr.  Palfrey  who  told  me  he  was 
going  presently  to  Northampton.  I  should  be  unwill- 
ing to  let  the  event  pass,  to  which  it  refers,  without 
offering  you  any  expression  of  condolence.  Since 
writing  it,  I  have  seen  your  sister,  and  heard  at 
large  such  a  character  of  your  father,  and  such 
accounts  of  his  life  and  death,  that  I  feel  acquainted 
with  him  ;  and  could  almost  offer  a  solemn  congratu- 
lation, rather  than  condolence,  at  a  life  so  well  con- 
ducted and  ended, —  or,  as  our  faith  has  taught  us 
to  say,  begun. 

Yours  affectionately  and  respectfully, 

R.  Waldo  Emerson. 

Mr.  George  B.  Emerson  to  Judge  Lyman,  Boston,  June,  1830. 

Dear  Sir, —  Your  daughter  has  never  been  doing 
better  than  she  is  doing  at  present.  She  had  not 
made  a  perfectly  good  beginning  in  the  languages, 
and  therefore  found  it  more  difficult  to  learn  accu- 
rately than  she  otherwise  would  have  done.  She  has 
succeeded,  and  is  succeeding,  in  conquering  the 
difficulty,  and  daily  becomes  more  accurate  and 
discriminating  in  her  language  and,  I  have  every 
reason  to  believe,  in  her  perceptions  and  thoughts. 
This  I  consider  the  most  important  part  of  her  work. 


258  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

She  is  inquisitive, —  acquires  and  retains  well.  Her 
taste  is  beyond  her  power  of  execution,  and  she  is 
much  oftener  dissatisfied  with  herself  than  I  am  with 
her.  Her  feelings  are  nice  and  delicate,  and  her 
deportment,  without  a  single  exception,  has  been 
always  exemplary.  Perhaps  there  is  a  slight  ten- 
dency to  undue  severity  in  her  judgments.  Not 
more,  however,  than  seems  to  be  incident  to  a  quick 
perception  of  what  is  ridiculous;  and  the  forgiving 
spirit  of  our  religion  will  probably  eradicate  it  in  its 
application  to  others,  especially  as  she  applies  it  first 
to  herself.  On  the  whole,  she  is  such  as  I  should 
wish  my  daughter  to  be  at  her  age.  And  it  has  been 
a  subject  of  regret  to  me  and  to  Mrs.  Emerson,  that 
we  could  not  have  so  pleasant  a  pupil  a  member  of 
our  own  family. 

Very  respectfully,  your  obedient  servant  and 
friend, 

George  B.  Emerson. 

To  Mrs.  Greene,  Sept.  26,  1830. 

You  see  Boston  papers  enough  to  know  who  dies 
and  who  is  married.  You  will  recollect  a  very  fine 
youth  who  was  with  Dr.  Willard,  at  Mr.  Peabody's 
ordination  —  Edward  Lowell;  he  matured  into 
almost  unparalleled  excellence  and  fine  talent,  and 
had  completely  redeemed  the  pledge  given  by  the 
striking  characteristics  of  his  early  youth,  when  he 
was  called  to  join  the  world  of  spirits.  One  can 
form  no  calculations  upon  the  loss  the  world  sustains 
by  such  an  event.  The  diffusion  of  the  influence  of 
a   correct  and   highly-gifted    mind    through    society 


MISS  DEBB Y  BARKER 'S  LO YA LTY         259 

cannot  be  appreciated  by  any  data  our  experience 
furnishes  us  with.  But  if  we  cannot  estimate  its 
value,  we  can  sincerely  deplore  its  loss.  Every  thing 
and  everybody  who  assists  to  elevate  the  standard  of 
human  perfection,  and  exemplify  the  power  of  virtue, 
gives  incalculable  strength  and  efficacy  to  it.  .  .  . 

During  the  year  1830,  my  mother  was  delighted  to 
hear  news  of  her  old  friend,  Miss  Debby  Barker,  at 
Ilingham,  whom  my  Uncle  and  Aunt  Revere  visited. 
In  the  course  of  the  visit,  my  Uncle  Revere  said  to 
her,  "We  have  met  with  a  sad  loss,  Miss  Barker,  in 
the  death  of  Chief  Justice  Parker."  Miss  Debby 
applied  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes  and  remarked, 
"  We,  too,  have  met  with  a  heavy  loss,  Mr.  Revere,  in 
the  death  of  George  the  Fourth."  And  on  looking 
at  her  again,  my  Uncle  observed  that  she  was  dressed 
in  purple, —  which  was  then  the  mourning  of  the 
Court.  These  old  ladies  always  spoke  of  themselves 
as  "eating  the  King's  bread,"  because  they  received 
a  small  pension  from  the  British  Government,  on 
account  of  their  father  having  been  an  officer.  His 
sword  always  hung  over  their  fireplace  in  Hingham 
as  long  as  they  lived. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Thy  mercy  bids  all  nature  bloom : 

The  sun  shines  bright,  and  man  is  gay. 

Thine  equal  mercy  spreads  the  gloom 
That  darkens  o'er  his  little  way. 

Norton. 

IN  the  first  letter  in  this  chapter,  written  by  my 
mother  to  my  Aunt  Catherine,  is  an  allusion 
to  a  young  law  student  who  was  then  leaving  the 
town.  Of  her  own  devoted  kindness  to  him  she 
said  never  a  word, —  I  doubt  if  she  remembered  it. 
Every  young  man  was  "somebody's  son"  to  her; 
and  when  she  found  that  this  youth  was  some  one's 
natural  son, —  she  knew  not  whose  till  long  after  his 
death, —  all  the  more  was  she  under  the  necessity 
to  make  her  house  a  home  to  him  ;  and  to  soothe, 
so  far  as  might  be,  that  craving  for  kindred  ties  that 
is  apt  to  become  morbid  in  young  persons  so  cir- 
cumstanced. 

I  have  never  found  it  easy  to  speak  of  my  mother's 
beneficences.  They  were  a  part  of  her  nature ; 
she  could  not  help  them,  they  were  the  great  lux- 
uries of  her  life.  She  had  no  set  plan  of  doing 
good,  she  belonged  to  no  organization,  was  president 
of  no  society.  Not  that  she  did  not  honor  all  good 
organizations,  but  they  were  not  needed  in  North- 
ampton,   and    scarcely    existed    there.     And    it    ac- 


MRS.  LYMAN'S  BENEFICENCES  261 

corded  far  better  with  her  temperament  and  habits 
to  do  exactly  as  she  did.  She  simply  kept  her  eyes, 
ears,  and  heart  open  all  the  time ;  and  they  were 
always  finding  enough  to  do.  It  was  the  occasional 
strong  word  spoken  in  season,  the  always-helping 
hand.  And  it  was  the  feeling  that  every  one  must 
have  had  in  that  village,  that  it  gave  her  heartfelt 
pleasure  to  share  their  joys  and  sorrows,  and  aid 
them  where  she  could,  that  gave  her  such  constant 
opportunity.  In  her  daily  rounds  through  the  lovely 
village,  how  many  things  met  her  eye  that  escaped 
common  observation.  One  day,  a  few  years  later 
than  this  period,  she  came  in  from  a  walk  greatly 
afflicted  because  she  had  seen  a  small  boy  torment- 
ing a  chicken.  He  was  an  orphan,  and,  though  ten- 
derly cared  for  by  the  excellent  women  who  had  him 
in  charge,  she  felt  he  needed  a  man's  hand  to  direct 
his  future  course.  She  lay  awake  at  night,  unable 
to  get  him  out  of  her  mind ;  then  rose  at  four 
o'clock  to  write  in  secret  a  letter  that  brought,  a 
few  weeks  later,  a  distant  male  relative  to  the 
village,  who  took  away  the  boy,  and  educated  him 
for  a  good  and  useful  man.  I  recall  her  air  of  ap- 
parent grave  abstraction  as  one  neighbor  after 
another  spoke  of  the  boy's  disappearance  as  "a 
special  Providence."  "  Susanna,"  said  she,  looking 
over  her  spectacles,  when  they  had  all  gone  out, 
"  I  have  observed  that  the  Lord  works  through 
human  instruments  sometimes;  but  this  is  none 
the  less  a  special  Providence."  "  Do  I  see  the 
human  instrument  before  me?"  said  I.  A  nod, 
with  her  finger  on  her  lip,  was  the  only  answer. 


262  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

Not  long  before  my  Aunt  Howe  left  Northamp- 
ton, she  wrote  this  letter  to  Cousin  Emma  :  — 

Mrs.  Howe  to  Miss  Forbes,  Northampton,  June  25,  1S30. 

I  fear  you  think  me  negligent  before  this  ;  but 
I  often  think  of  writing  and  then  delay  it,  because 
I  have  so  little  to  communicate.  Mother  and  I 
have  spent  most  of  the  time  together  in  my  little 
library  since  you  left  us.  There  has  been  so  much 
rain  that  we  have  been  rarely  tempted  abroad. 
Mamma's  health  and  spirits  are  greatly  improved ; 
she  looks  quite  like  herself  again.  She  reads  a 
great  deal;  we  have  just  had  "Clarence."  Mother 
and  I  were  delighted  with  it ;  we  sat  up  one  night 
till  after  midnight,  reading  it.  Now,  this  girlish 
interest  in  me  is  not  so  remarkable,  because  I  know 
and  love  Catherine,  but  to  mother  she  is  a  stranger  ; 
and,  in  the  last  three  generations,  mother  has  wit- 
nessed more  romance  in  real  life  than  any  person, 
except  Sir  Walter  Scott,  our  noble  cousin,  could 
describe. 

I  was  amused  by  hearing  a  remark  of  Mr.  James 
Savage,  upon  the  birth  of  Mr.  Henry  Ware's  Roman 
daughter.  "  Well,"  said  he,  on  hearing  of  the  event, 
"when  people  are  in  Rome,  they  must  do  as  Ro- 
mans do." 

Mrs.  Lyman  to  Miss  Forbes,  Nov.  20,  1831. 

My  dear  Emma, —  One  thing  I  do,  I  always 
answer  letters  the  first  moment  I  can  get  after 
receiving  them.  But  I  have  lived  under  unusually 
high    pressure   for    the  last  two  months.     It  would 


LIVING  UNDER  HIGH  PRESSURE  263 

be  idle  for  me  to  attempt  to  give  you  any  account 
in  detail.  But  such  coming  and  going  you  can 
scarcely  conceive  of,  and  the  train  of  thought  under 
such  circumstances  is  altogether  indescribable.  A 
friend,  a  short  time  since,  asked  me  what  I  had 
been  reading,  and  I  could  not  help  answering  that 
I  did  not  know,  for  it  was  a  great  while  since  I  had 
done  any  thinking.  And  reading  is  not  of  much 
value,  unless  one  has  some  opportunity  for  reflection. 
There  is  no  doubt  but  in  the  midst  of  this  whirl 
of  matter  my  mind  has  had  a  great  rest,  and  it  is 
not  certain  but  I  may  come  out  quite  brilliant  after 
all  the  refreshing  is  over. 

After  writing  the  above,  Mrs.  Mills  sent  for  me 
to  go  up  to  her ;  and,  after  passing  all  the  day, 
except  while  eating  dinner,  in  such  a  high  state  of 
excitement,  it  seems  hardly  right  for  me,  in  my 
exhausted  state  of  feeling,  to  try  to  afford  you  any 
pleasure  by  my  pen.  Oh,  Emma !  how  hard  it  is  to 
be  reconciled  to  these  dark  dispensations  !  And 
yet  we  need  not  go  farther  than  Salem  and  New 
Bedford  to  discover  that  there  are  much  greater 
trials  and  sorrows  than  can  be  produced  by  the 
death  of  good  and  dear  children.  You  and  your 
mother  know,  without  my  telling  you,  how  intense 
the  sufferings  of  poor  Mrs.  Mills  are,  as  well  as  her 
family.  Elijah,  had  he  lived,  might  have  discovered 
great  frailties.  Hut  I  only  knew  him  as  pre-emi- 
nently gifted  in  grace  of  manners,  rare  wit  and 
genius,  which  made  him  highly  interesting  as  a 
companion,  and  gave  fair  promise  of  usefulness 
and    distinction,      lie    was  the  only  youth  who  has 


264  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

grown  up  in  this  place,  within  the  last  twenty  years, 
at  all  distinguished  for  genius  or  talent  ;  though 
Mrs.  J.  H.  Lyman's  sons  are  very  fine  young  men  ! 
I  must  say,  I  consider  him  as  a  loss  to  our  town, 
and  to  me  in  particular,  as  he  often  visited  us.  If 
there  was  anything  new  in  the  papers,  he  would 
come  down  into  my  parlor  to  read  it  to  me,  and 
make  his  comments,  while  I  minded  my  work.  And 
having  Mr.  Ashmun  removed  and  Elijah  taken  away, 
in  addition  to  the  removal  of  Mrs.  Howe's  family, 
is  rather  more  than  I  know  how  to  bear.  .  .  . 

I  am  inexpressibly  sorry  to  hear  of  Mary  Ware's 
being  so  much  of  an  invalid.  I  trust  she  is  not 
going  to  follow  in  the  steps  of  her  mother,  who  was 
prevented  by  ill  health  from  any  enjoyment  nearly 
twenty  years.  We  have  a  young  clergyman  from 
Cambridge,  who  thinks  Mr.  Ware  is  doing  an  im- 
measurable quantity  of  good  in  the  Divinity  School. 

Since  I  have  been  writing  this  letter,  I  have  heard 
of  the  death  of  little  Robert  Ware.  I  feel  as  if  this 
blow  would  penetrate  the  inmost  recesses  of  Mary's 
heart.  He  was  the  first  object  who  had  awakened  in 
her  the  feelings  of  a  parent,  and  with  that  feeling 
made  this  earthly  sphere  a  new  world  to  her, —  one 
of  new  interest  and  new  hopes,  unlike  any  she  could 
have  felt  before,  and  such  as  no  one  knows  who  has 
not  experienced  them.  To  have  all  these  cut  off  and 
crushed  will  tax  the  whole  panoply  with  which  Mary 
is  armed.  But  it  is  not  in  human  nature  to  resist 
unharmed  the  stroke  which  severs  these  tender  ties. 
I  feci  much  for  her,  and  hope  she  will  be  sustained, 
as  I  have  no  doubt  she  will  be. 


DEA  TH  OF  HENR  Y  SEDG  WICK  265 

Mary  mentions  that  you  heard  Dr.  Channing's 
discourse  on  the  death  of  Miss  Adams  and  Mrs. 
Codman.  It  must  have  been  a  highly  profitable  one. 
Mrs.  Codman's  was  a  remarkably  useful  life,  as  well 
as  Miss  Adams',  though  in  a  very  different  way. 

I  dare  say  you  have  heard  of  the  death  of  Henry 
Sedgwick.  .  .  .  Few  of  my  acquaintance,  if  any,  have 
had  their  virtues  so  tested  as  Jane  Sedgwick,  and  I 
never  knew  any  one  who  had  given  such  a  practical 
exemplification  of  their  power.  If  the  riding  contin- 
ues as  good  as  it  has  been,  I  mean  to  try  to  ride  up 
and  pass  Sunday  with  her ;  but  may  be  I  shall  not 
accomplish  it. 

Dr.  Flint  has  just  returned  from  Stockbridge. 
He  was  sent  for  to  make  an  examination  ;  .  .  .  and  he 
wonders  how  H.  has  lived  for  years. 

Give  my  love  to  your  mother  and  all  friends. 
Write  me  a  history  of  your  life  the  past  year.  Tell 
Margaret  it  would  have  been  a  good  idea  for  you  and 
her  to  have  returned  this  way  from  New  York. 

To  Mr.  John  M.  Forbes,  Jan.  1,  1S32. 

My  hear  John, — .  .  .  I  had  not  much  belief  when 
I  wrote,  that  you  would  attach  much  value  to  the 
letters  of  such  an  antiquated  lady  as  your  cousin. 
But  since  they  find  favor  in  your  sight,  and  lest  you 
should  forget  the  many  social  ties  which  bind  you  to 
your  race  (in  spite  of  your  expatriated  condition),  I 
will  occasionally  emit  a  little  of  my  habitual  dulness. 
I  was  pleased  to  get  your  letter  of  the  29th,  and  am 
sorry  to  find  that  the  want  of  all  those  privileges 
which  are  peculiar  to  Christian  countries  makes  you 


266  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

unhappy ;  and  yet  I  am  glad  to  find  that  you  realize 
the  want  of  such  rational  and  salutary  means  of 
enjoyment,  as  are  common  to  all  who  inhabit  this 
favored  land.  There  is  none  that  would  be  a  greater 
deprivation  to  me,  than  not  being  able  to  go  to 
church,  and  feel  that  myself  and  household  had  one 
day  in  seven  for  rest  as  well  as  worship.  We  re- 
quire (particularly  men  of  business)  the  relaxation  as 
well  as  mental  refreshing,  which  this  exercise  fur- 
nishes. The  analogy  between  the  mind  and  body  is 
very  striking.  They  both  require  to  be  nourished 
and  stimulated  by  food  adapted  to  them  ;  and  if  we 
don't  have  much  time  for  reading  and  reflection, 
owing  to  the  occupations  we  are  engaged  in  during 
the  week, —  if  we  go  to  church  on  Sunday  and 
renew  our  good  resolutions,  and  feel  our  moral  and 
religious  views  strengthened  and  invigorated  by  the 
arguments  contained  in  the  discourse,  our  gratitude 
and  devotional  feeling  stimulated, —  we  are  made 
happier  and  better  for  it.  'Tis  a  favorable  exercise 
for  the  mind,  to  abstract  it  occasionally  from  the 
harassing  pursuits  of  business,  and  allow  it  to  take 
an  upward  flight  into  the  regions  of  intellectual 
space,  and  to  the  abode  of  Deity,  of  angels,  and  the 
spirits  of  the  just  :  — 

"  Mind,  mind  alone,  without  whose  quick'ning  ray, 
The  world's  a  wilderness,  and  man  but  clay; 
Mind,  mind  alone,  in  barren,  still  repose, 
Nor  blooms,  nor  rises,  nor  expands,  nor  flows." 

Then,  my  dear  John,  do  not  forget  to  take  care  of 
the  mind,  as  well  as  the  body.  Become  an  intel- 
lectual being,  and  it  will  prevent  your  being  a  sen- 


HOME  NEWS  TO  JOHN  FORBES  267 

sual  being,  and  prevent  you  from  feeling  the  little 
inconveniences  which  affect  the  senses  only, —  by 
constant  attention  to  which,  we  bring  a  blight  over 
all  disinterested  and  generous  purposes.  You  will 
begin  to  think  that  I  mean  to  give  you  a  sermon  in- 
stead of  a  letter,  and  that  my  New  Year's  reflections 
are  to  supersede  the  congratulations  of  the  season, 
and  the  history  of  the  times,  which  will  be,  I  am 
sure,  much  the  most  interesting  to  you.  It  is  now 
more  than  a  year  since  Joseph  left  college  and  en- 
tered the  Law  School.  I  have  just  parted  with  him 
after  a  few  weeks'  visit.  He  is  thinking  of  going  to 
live  with  the  Rev.  Mr.  Emerson,  and  study  law  in 
Mr.  Charles  G.  Loring's  office,  in  Boston. 

.  .  .  Charles  Mills  is  fast  accpuiring  the  confidence  of 
his  employers,  and  I  believe  he  has  a  good  prospect 
before  him.  Anne  Jean  sits  by  me  and  sends  her 
love  to  you,  and  hopes  you  do  not  forget  her.  When 
you  see  Cousin  Bennet,  give  my  love  to  him  ;  I  hope 
he  will  soon  be  on  his  way  here.  .  .  . 

Your  old  friend,  Miss  ,  has  taken  her  flight  to 

future  worlds ;  she  was  sick  only  one  week.  She 
took  it  into  her  head,  it  was  so  cold,  that  she  would 
sit  up  nights  (it  has  been  uncommonly  cold  ;  we  had 
a  month  of  very  severe  weather  before  Christmas)  ; 
and  the  consequence  was,  she  took  a  violent  cold, 
which  settled  on  her  lungs,  and  withdrew  her  from 
this  sublunary  abode.  The  next  morning,  I  looked 
out  of  the  window  and  saw  a  double  sleigh  passing, 
with  a  long  trunk  in  it,  covered  over  with  a  bed- 
quilt  ;  and  was  told  it  was  "sister,"  going  to  Ipswich 
to  be  buried. 


268  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

I  feel  much  obliged  to  Dr.  Jennison  for  an  excel- 
lent letter,  and  shall  soon  write  to  him.  Mr.  Lyman 
and  Joseph  send  you  much  love.  I  wish  you  to 
economize  all  you  can,  and  lay  by  a  little  money,  and 
then  get  yourself  translated  to  a  pretty  cottage  in 
Northampton,  and  sit  down  and  lead  a  calm  and  pas- 
toral life,  with  some  nice,  agreeable  young  woman. 

To  Airs.  Greene,  Northampton,  Feb.  2S,  1S32. 

My  dear  Abbv, —  My  employments  are  always  of 
a  very  engrossing  nature  when  the  children  are  at 
home.  In  the  morning  and  evening  I  instruct  them, 
with  the  assistance  of  Anne  Jean, —  who  returned 
sooner  than  I  intended  she  should  from  Boston, 
owing  to  indisposition.  She  has  improved  her  time 
well  since  she  has  been  at  Mr.  Emerson's  school 
(the  last  year  and  a  half)  ;  and,  though  she  is  still 
attending  to  her  studies  under  Mr.  Peirce, —  one  of 
the  teachers  on  Round  Hill, —  she  has  furnished  me 
with  a  great  deal  of  entertainment  (being  very  good 
company)  this  winter.  She  now  has  a  friend  making 
her  a  visit, —  Miss  Wilson,  of  Keene,  New  Hamp- 
shire, who  is  a  remarkable  young  person  for  fifteen. 
She  is  as  much  engaged  as  Anne  Jean  in  the  study 
of  algebra,  Latin,  and  history;  and  we  have  had  Mr. 
Rush  Bryant  giving  lectures  in  chemistry  all  winter; 
he  is  a  brother  of  the  poet.  I  dare  say  you  wonder 
that  I  should  retain  an  enthusiastic  zeal  in  regard  to 
education,  when  I  tell  you  that  those  brought  up 
under  my  care  have  exhibited  striking  marks  of  im- 
perfection. But,  so  far  from  its  being  a  reason  for 
lessening  my  care  and  my  zeal,  it  only  increases  it, 


PRINCIPLES  OF  EDUCATION  269 

If,  with  all  the  pains  my  children  have  had,  they  are 
no  better,  what  would  they  have  been  without  it  ? 
Possibly,  the  weeds  of  error  might  have  overgrown 
and  rooted  out  the  few  virtues  they  now  possess  ;  at 
least  might  have  so  far  overshadowed  them,  as  to 
have  checked  their  growth.  There  are  a  few  im- 
mutable principles  in  education  that  will  never  be 
controverted  openly  in  any  theory,  and  that  furnish 
a  fair  groundwork  for  a  cultivated  understanding. 
Let  example  and  surrounding  influences,  as  much  as 
they  can  be  controlled,  tend  to  cherish  a  love  of 
truth  and  perfect  sincerity.  Let  all  those  petty  in- 
terests and  vanities  be  excluded  which  take  such 
strong  hold  of  the  minds  of  young  people,  which 
tend  so  little  to  make  them  happy  or  tranquil,  and 
which  so  entirely  pre-occupy  the  mind  as  to  prevent 
any  thing  good  from  entering  into  it  permanently. 
How  can  children  love  knowledge  when  their  daily 
experience  teaches  them  that  their  most  attractive 
grace  and  best  distinction  is  the  beauty  of  their 
clothes,  or  something  exclusively  external  and  adven- 
titious ?  They  must  perceive  that  what  creates  the 
highest  happiness  is  the  acquisition  of  something 
intellectual,  or  the  power  to  contribute  to  the  good 
of  their  fellow-creatures  ;  and  early  be  taught  the 
superior  worth  of  the  soul,  with  its  various  capaci- 
ties, over  the  body, —  which  is  a  mere  tenement  of 
clay  for  an  inhabitant  destined  to  remain  in  it  but  a 
short  time,  and  then  return  to  its  Maker  unspeak- 
ably enlarged  and  qualified  for  eternal,  as  well  as 
celestial,  occupations  and  joys,  such  as  never  entered 
into  the  heart  of  man  to  conceive.      It  is  rare  to  find 


21  o  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

well-educated  women  who  have  grown  up  in  great 
prosperity.  If  their  minds  are  tolerably  cultivated, 
their  hearts  are  perverted,  their  objects  of  pursuit 
arc  shadows. 

Martha  is  very  fortunate  in  living  with  people 
who  educate  their  children  exclusively  with  the  pur- 
pose "  to  produce  a  certain  state  of  mind,"  rather 
than  to  accumulate  a  great  catalogue  of  accomplish- 
ments. Martha  has,  I  presume,  told  you  that  Mr. 
Cary's  children  are  the  finest  that  ever  lived.  They 
were  never  in  a  school.  They  never  viewed  them- 
selves in  competition  with  any  other  children  in 
their  lives, —  to  think  who  had  the  prettiest  clothes, 
or  who  was  the  head  of  a  class  most  frequently. 
But  their  minds,  being  divested  of  all  such  vain  com- 
petitions are  like  a  sheet  of  white  paper,  on  which 
you  may  write  what  you  please ;  and  there  are,  she 
says,  no  impurities  there  to  mar  the  impression.  I 
have  seen  children  so  educated,  and,  I  must  say, 
that  the  best  people  I  have  known  have  had  a  pri- 
vate education.  People  can  study  mankind  to  better 
advantage  after  they  come  to  maturity  than  while 
they  are  children.  I  believe  you  are  tired  of  so 
much  prosing,  and  I  should  think  you  might  be. 
Mr.  Hall  will  want  to  know  who  we  have  had  preach- 
ing for  us  ;  Mr.  Julian  Abbot,  the  first  of  the  winter, 
and  Mr.  Pierre  Irving  the  last  six  weeks ;  that  is, 
he  has  read  to  us,  and  gives  us  a  very  fine  selection 
of  sermons  and  prayers.  Mrs.  Henry  Ware  is  still 
a  very  great  invalid,  and  many  think  will  never 
recover.  Tell  your  sister  Sally  I  was  much  obliged 
to   her  for  her   letter,   and   shall    answer    it.      Your 


MAKING  FRIENDS  WITH  NATURE  271 

mother  is  a  good  deal  of  an  invalid,  but  your  father 
enjoys  comfortable  health.  Harriet  has  a  small 
school,  and  I  think  it  very  improving  to  her,  and 
hope  something  better  will  offer  for  her. 

To  Miss  Forbes,  March  5,  1S32. 

If  you  observe  any  discrepancies  in  this  letter,  all 
I  can  say  is,  it  has  been  written  in  haste,  with  Mr. 
Lyman  reading  Clay's  speech  as  loud  as  he  well 
could.  Give  my  love  to  your  mother,  Margaret,  and 
the  young  ladies  ;  and  remember  me  to  Miss 
Martha  Stearns,  whom  I  was  much  pleased  with. 
Tell  her  her  brother  is  well,  and  preaches  finely. 

To  Mrs.  Greene,  March  22,  1832. 

Anne  Jean  and  I  have  had  a  good  opportunity  to 
read  this  winter,  and  to  improve  the  children  in 
various  ways.  Indeed,  I  think  winter  is  the  season 
of  mental  improvement,  and  summer  the  time  to 
study  in  the  great  book  of  Nature,  and  apply  our 
knowledge.  If  we  make  friends  with  Nature,  she 
will  never  fail  us  ;  but  wherever  we  go,  the  intimacy, 
like  the  Masonic  tie,  will  be  acknowledged,  and  we 
shall  find  her  good  company.  Not  so  with  artifi- 
cial tastes ;  you  may  look  in  vain  abroad  for  the 
forms  of  society  and  means  of  amusement  to  which 
you  have  been  used  in  the  world  ;  but  if  you  have 
loved  the  grass  and  clouds,  go  where  you  will,  they 
are  indigenous  in  every  climate,  and  are  always  to 
be  enjoyed. 

I  was  very  glad  to  get  your  last  letter,  but  have 
seen  accounts  in  the  paper  of  still  greater  distress 
than  you  said  any  thing  about.  .  .  . 


272  RECOLLECTIONS  OE  MY  MOTHER 

To  Miss  C.  Robbins,  April?,,  1S32. 

I  wish  you  could  come  up  and  see  what  comfort 
we  have  in  our  Sundays.  Mr.  Stearns  hardly  ever 
exchanges,  and  always  preaches  well.  And  I  have 
a  charming  set  of  scholars  at  the  Sunday-school, 
which  gives  me  a  sort  of  foretaste  of  the  millennium. 
If  you  are  ever  well  enough,  and  go  to  one  meeting 
long  enough  at  a  time,  I  recommend  to  you  to  take 
a  class  in  a  Sunday-school,  that  are  old  enough  to 
study  Paley's  "Evidences,"  and  Miss  Adams's  "  His- 
tory of  the  Jews,"  and  "Josephus,"  and  such  kind 
of  works,  as  well  as  the  Scriptures  ;  and  if  they  are 
intelligent,  there  is  real  pleasure  in  it.  .  .  . 

How  perfectly  I  recall  my  mother's  delight  in  my 
Aunt  Mary's  twin  babies  !  It  was  during  this  year, 
I  think,  that  General  Moseley,  our  only  military 
hero,  was  thrown  from  his  horse  during  a  review, 
and  broke  his  leg.  He  was  carried  into  Warner's 
tavern,  and  spent  many  weeks  in  a  room  on  the 
upper  floor.  I  recall  my  mother's  insisting,  as  soon 
as  she  heard  the  limb  was  set,  that  she  must  go  and 
see  him,  and  take  the  twins  with  her.  She  had 
them  dressed  in  pink,  and  seated  on  the  foot  of  his 
bed.  "  The  sight  of  these  twins  can't  mend  his 
broken  leg,  but  would  mend  a  broken  heart  any 
time,"  she  said. 

My  mother  suffered  severely  from  the  ill  health 
of  both  Joseph  and  Anne  Jean.  All  her  plans  of 
life  were  formed  for  health,  and  the  sight  of  severe 
suffering  always  distressed  her  immeasurably.  Then, 
as   she  was  apt   at  times   to  exaggerate  symptoms, 


PLANNING  FOR  HEALTH  273 

through  her  intensity  of  sympathy,  and  was  rarely 
judicious  in  the  use  of  remedies,  her  children  avoided 
the  mention  of  disease,  whenever  it  was  possible  to 
do  so. 

In  a  letter  to  Cousin  Abby,  dated  December  3, 
1832,  she  pours  out  her  sorrow  for  the  sufferings  of 
these  two  beautiful  and  noble  young  people.  Speak- 
ing of  Joseph,  she  says  :  — 

"  The  idea  of  so  young  a  person  being  under  the 
necessity  of  acting  the  part  of  an  invalid,  and  carry- 
ing about  him  a  local  infirmity  which  may  last  him 
through  life,  I  sometimes  feel  to  be  almost  insup- 
portable." 

Speaking  in  the  same  letter  of  the  cholera,  which 
had  prevailed  during  the  previous  season,  she 
adds  :  — 

"  We  have  had  a  great  deal  of  anxiety  on  your 
account,  ever  since  the  cholera  was  known  to  be 
in  your  city.  I  am  rejoiced  to  hear  it  has  abated. 
It  is  a  new  form  of  trouble  to  me.  In  the  summer 
season,  there  were  a  great  number  of  people  here 
from  the  cities,  and  all  wondered  that  we  did  not 
conform  our  mode  of  living  to  the  prospect  of 
cholera,  as  they  did  in  New  York  and  other  places. 
But  your  uncle  and  I  both  thought  that  we  had 
better  continue  to  do  exactly  what  we  had  done, 
as  that  had  preserved  us  in  health  so  far;  and  we 
never  made  the  slightest  difference  about  eating  or 
drinking,  and  you  know  we  never  were  very  luxuri- 
ous livers.     But  a  kind  Providence  has  preserved  us." 


274  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

To  Mrs.  Greene,  March  22,  1833. 

P.  S.  I  think  your  father  has  been  remarkably 
well  and  happy  this  winter.  They  have  in  every 
respect  appeared  comfortable.  I  see  your  father 
every  day.  He  talks  of  his  happiness  as  something 
that  he  realizes ;  and  says,  "  Don't  you  see  how 
much  better  off  I  am  than  Major  Taylor?"  I  en- 
joyed seeing  a  great  deal  of  M.  when  I  was  in 
Boston.  She  is  the  most  improved  young  person 
I  know  of,  and  has  secured  herself  the  best  of 
friends  in  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cary, —  who  say  they  never 
shall  be  willing  to  do  without  her  till  their  children 
are  all  grown  up.  Mary  Jones  is  going  to  Boston 
for  a  visit  soon,  and  Jane,  after  she  is  married. 

To  Miss  C.  Robbins,  March  28,  1S33. 

My  dear  Catherine, —  When  I  first  got  home 
I  was,  of  course,  very  much  occupied,—  I  need  not 

say  how.     And  soon  Mr. 's  folks  got  aground, 

and  came  after  me  to  pay  them  some  attention,  but 
they  are  now  getting  along  nicely.  They  have  not 
much  resolution  to  meet  difficulties  in  the  onset, 
but  they  have  patience  and  perseverance,  and  that 
always  carries  people  along.  I  hope  mamma  got  a 
letter  I  wrote  rather  more  than  a  week  ago.  The 
badness  of  the  travelling  has  prevented  Joseph  from 
going  back  as  soon  as  he  intended.  He  has  been 
a  constant  source  of  entertainment  to  all  of  us,  and 
produced  the  exercise  of  a  great  deal  of  laugh- 
ing. I  have  sent  you  Mrs.  Cushings's  "Travels," 
and  wish  mother  and  you  may  derive  as  much 
entertainment  from  them  as  I  did.     I  believe  I  have 


PREPARING  FOR  JANE'S  WEDDING        275 

not  read  any  thing  since  my  return  but  Mr.  Ware's 
book, —  which  I  am  delighted  with  as  another  speci- 
men of  his  beautiful  mind, —  and  "Lord  Colling- 
wood's  Letters,"  and  "  Cousin  Marshall."  I  hope 
Miss  Martineau  will  continue  to  write ;  I  don't 
know  of  any  kind  of  writing  calculated  to  do  so 
much  good  to  common  readers.  I  wonder  if  you 
have  read  the  last  "Christian  Eximiner;"  if  you 
have  not,  you  must  see  what  malignity  and  ill-will 
can  suggest  against  that  faultless  work  of  Mr. 
Ware's,  "The  Formation  of  the  Christian  Charac- 
ter." I  am  glad  you  are  able  to  hear  Dr.  Follen. 
I  am  sure  he  must  be  an  interesting  lecturer,  though 
I  do  not  care  so  much  about  the  German  literature 
as  many  people  do.  I  think,  if  I  were  young  and 
able  to,  I  should  not  learn  the  language,  but  should 
devote  much  more  time  and  attention  to  the  best 
works  in  the  English  than  is  common  for  the  young 
people  of  the  present  day. 

I  do  not  hear  how  Susan  Howe  is  getting  along 
with  her  school,  but  I  hope  well.  I  am  very  glad 
to  hear  Mary  is  enjoying  so  much  at  Philadelphia. 
The  weather  has  been  very  fine  here  for  a  week 
past,  and  of  course  it  is  much  warmer  there.  The 
travelling  is  still  horrid,  and  I  dread  to  have  Joseph 
take  this  journey  ;  but  he  thinks  it  won't  do  for  him 
to  stay  any  longer  from  the  office.  You  must  tell 
Emma  I  do  not  expect  to  be  any  thing  but  a  drudge 
till  after  Jane  is  married,  though  I  shall  try  and 
answer  her  kind  letter  one  of  these  days.  And  tell 
her,  if  I  had  not  heard  her  say  she  never  meant  to 
do  any  more  work  with  her  hands,  I  should  beg  she 


276  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

'would  come  up  and  help  me  till  next  June.  Mar- 
garet  Emery  was  coming  up  to  make  me  a  visit 
from  Springfield ;  but  I  shan't  let  her  come  till  you 
are  here,  or  Emma,  or  somebody  that  has  time  to 
enjoy  her  fine  intellect,  which,  in  the  present  state 
of  my  interests,  would  be  lost  on  me.  Give  my  love 
to  Sally  and  her  family.  I  hope  she  will  get  up 
here  this  summer.  Give  my  love  to  mother  and 
all  friends.  Your  affectionate  sister, 

A.  J.  Lyman. 

To  Mrs.  Greene  >  July  14,  1833. 

My  dear  Abby, —  I  was  much  pleased  to  receive 
your  letter  of  the  4th.  Your  repeated  invitations 
to  Anne  Jean  have  not  been  unheeded,  or  passed 
over  without  much  speculation.  The  chance  to  go 
with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Peabody  I  consider  a  good  one; 
or  with  Mrs.  Cutter.  But  though  we  have  thought 
much  of  it,  both  in  connection  with  her  health  and 
likewise  in  connection  with  our  desire  to  have  her 
in  your  society,  enlarging  as  well  as  increasing  the 
fountain  of  good  affections,  still  it  requires  an  effort 
of  resolution  that  I  do  not  feel  equal  to  at  present. 
Her  father  says  she  may  go  if  I  think  best.  I 
cannot  help  remembering  that  it  must  be  a  long 
separation,  and  that  her  health  is  very  indifferent, 
and  that  I  should  have  great  anxiety  on  her  account, 
and  great  deprivation.  For  she  is  every  thing  to  me 
in  the  way  of  a  companion,  as  well  as  an  assistant, 
and  it  would  come  hard  to  me  to  do  without  her. 
I  have  not  the  least  doubt  you  would  be  satisfied 
with  her,  and  find  much  sympathy  and  pleasure  in 


MISS  BEECH ER  'S  ESS  A  Y  277 

her  society.  She  has  a  serious  and  reflecting  mind, 
and  I  know  she  would  be  much  improved  by  en- 
larging her  experience  in  such  a  tour.  .  .  .  This 
proves  that  I  am  wanting  in  a  heart  full  of  gratitude 
for  the  blessings  I  have  ;  and  I  am  induced  to  utter 
this  portion  of  Pope's  prayer  :  — 

"  Save  me  alike  from  foolish  pride, 
Or  impious  discontent 
At  aught  thy  wisdom  has  denied, 
Or  aught  thy  goodness  lent." 

We  feel  very*  much  delighted  to  hear  that  Sally  is 
getting  along,  and  that  her  baby  was  doing  well. 
You  did  not  say  who  she  called  her  baby  for ;  it  is 
a  very  pretty  name.  I  told  Anne  to  write  and  say 
we  hoped  it  would  either  be  called  Abby  Greene  or 
Anne  Jean.  But  I  think  on  such  occasions  people 
are  right  to  follow  their  own  judgment. 

I  am  very  glad  you  are  pleased  with  Dr.  Bancroft. 
There  is  no  member  of  his  family  who  is  half  as 
interesting  as  he  is,  and,  notwithstanding  his  cracked 
voice  and  shaking  head,  there  are  few  who  in  the 
vigor  of  youth  can  write  so  well.  I  am  glad  too  that 
you  realize  the  promise  of  her  youth  in  Miss 
Beecher ;  I  always  thought  she  must  be  a  most 
intelligent  companion.  Her  "Essay  on  Education," 
which  was  published  a  few  years  since,  was  highly 
creditable  to  her,  and  gave  me  a  high  idea  of  her 
mind. 

My  sister  Catherine  is  staying  with  me,  and  says 
nothing  but  the  entire  impossibility  of  her  leaving 
an  aged  mother  prevents  her  from  accepting   your 


278  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

kind  invitation  ;  for  she  has  a  great  deal  of  enter- 
prise about  moving  and  journeying,  besides  in  this 
case  a  great  desire  to  see  her  friends.  She  sends 
her  love  to  you,  and  says  she  shall  lay  up  her  invita- 
tion for  a  more  convenient  season,  and  that  she  is 
much  obliged  to  you  for  it. 

If  Anne  Jean  gets  the  resolution  to  think  she 
can  undertake  this  journey  before  the  opportunity 
passes  by,  we  shall  promote  it,  with  all  our  hearts.  .  .  . 

A.  J.  Lyman. 

In  the  spring  of  1833,  our  dear  sister  Jane  was 
married  to  Stephen  Brewer,  and  this  marriage  prob- 
ably added  more  positive  enjoyment  to  our  family 
circle  than  any  that  ever  occurred  in  it.  For  this 
sister  was  not,  like  most  of  the  others,  to  be  removed 
far  from  our  vicinity.  The  village  known  as 
"'Leeds,"  in  later  years,  was  then  simply  called  the 
"  Factory  Village,"  and  Mr.  Brewer  was  the  agent 
for  the  woollen  manufactories  there.  He  was  a  man 
of  the  finest  feelings,  and  most  reliable  judgment  in 
his  dealings  with  men.  And  this  made  him  the 
personal  friend  and  care-taker  of  the  whole  little 
village  under  his  charge.  During  the  years  that  he 
was  there,  no  justice  of  the  peace  was  ever  employed 
to  settle  difficulties  in  that  place.  His  private  influ- 
ence was  all  they  needed  to  keep  them  in  order. 
His  house  stood  at  the  top  of  the  hill  overlooking 
the  village,  with  a  charming  grove  of  pines  in  front 
and  at  the  side  of  it,  where  the  winds  made  constant 
music.  It  was  a  most  picturesque  situation,  and 
only  a  drive  of  four  and  a  half  miles  from  our  door 


JANE 'S  HOME  AT  FA CTORY  VILLA GE     279 

in  Northampton.  To  go  with  father  or  mother  in 
the  chaise  or  carriage  to  see  "  Sister  Jane,"  and 
have  a  frolic  with  our  kind  and  genial  brother-in-law, 
made  one  of  the  prime  enjoyments  of  our  childhood, 
and  we  were  often  left  to  pass  the  night,  or  stay  a 
few  days,— which  was  one  of  the  most  delicious 
treats  to  school  children.  And  as  we  grew  older, 
and  had  young  friends  and  visitors,  our  dear  sister 
and  her  husband  made  them  also  welcome  to  the 
hospitable  home,  and  many  are  the  bright  recollec- 
tions of  those  happy  days  at  the  Factory.  Sister 
Jane  had  been  a  suffering  invalid  from  her  birth,  but 
her  perfect  patience  and  entire  disinterestedness 
prevented  her  ill-health  from  being  any  drawback  to 
the  spirits  of  the  young  people  about  her.  She 
carried  through  life  that  blessed  unselfishness,  inher- 
ited from  our  dear  father,  which  saved  her  from  the 
worst  crosses  of  life,  though  she  had  always  to  bear 
the  cross  of  pain  and  weakness. 

I  remember  well  the  months  preceding  her  mar- 
riage,—  the  wedding  haste  of  the  dear  Anne  Jean 
whose  deft  ringers  made  many  a  garment,  the  drives 
to  the  Factory  to  see  the  house.  And  the  day  be- 
fore the  marriage  when  my  mother  took  me,  a  child 
of  ten  years,  out  into  the  grove  behind  the  house, 
and  said,  "  Here,  Susan,  you  will  often  come  and 
have  happy  days.  I  want  you  to  learn  Bryant's 
'Thanatopsis  '  here,  for  here  you  will  understand  it." 
And  I  learned  it,  then  and  there  ;  and  can  never  now 
repeat,  "The  groves  were  God's  first  temples," 
without  recalling  those  groves,  and  all  the  joys  con- 
nected with  them.     Who  could   have  dreamed  then, 


zSo  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

in  those  peaceful  days,  that  the  beautiful  village 
would  become  that  scene  of  ruin  and  disaster,  which 
the  calamity  of  1873  made  it? 

In  the  autumn  of  1833,  Anne  went  to  Cincinnati 
to  pass  the  winter  with  Cousin  Abby.  It  was  in- 
deed a  heavy  sacrifice  to  part  with  this  beloved 
daughter  even  temporarily,  for,  in  spite  of  her  ill- 
health,  her  presence  was  of  the  utmost  importance 
to  the  comfort  of  the  whole  family  circle.  But  when 
did  they  ever  fail  to  make  any  sacrifice  that  they 
believed  to  be  for  our  good  ?  Writing  to  Abby,  in 
relation  to  Anne's  going,  my  mother  said,  "It  is 
an  unspeakable  effort  for  me  to  let  her  go,  and  one 
I  could  not  make  for  any  less  beloved  objects  than 
herself  and  yourself." 

How  plainly  I  recall  my  dear  father's  voice  trem- 
bling with  emotion,  and  his  glistening  eyes,  as  he 
told  years  afterwards  one  characteristic  story  of  his 
parting  with  Anne  for  this  long  winter.  He  gave 
her  fifty  dollars  in  ten  gold  pieces  for  her  pocket- 
money  during  the  visit.  That  was  a  great  deal  in 
those  times, —  more  than  a  hundred  would  be  now  ; 
and  Anne  duly  appreciated  the  gift,  and  thanked  him 
warmly.  When  spring  came,  and  he  went  to  bring 
her  home,  she  quietly  handed  him  a  beautiful  purse 
she  had  knit  for  him,  of  silk,  with  steel  beads;  and 
in  it  he  found  the  ten  shining  gold  pieces  he  had 
given  her  at  parting.  She  remarked  simply  that  it 
had  been  a  great  comfort  to  her  to  have  so  much 
money  by  her  all  winter,  as  she  had  felt  herself 
ready  for  any  emergency ;  but  that  she  had  had 
no    use    for    the    money,  and  it  was  a  happiness  to 


RE  A  DING  ENGLISH  HIS  TOR  V  281 

her  to  return  it  to  him,  knowing  how  many  people 
he  had  to  provide  for.  Such  was  her  tender  consid- 
eration for  him,  at  eighteen  years. 

During  that  winter,  we  children  attended  Mr. 
William  Huntington's  school,  and  in  March  our 
brother  Edward  left  home,  to  go  into  a  store  in 
Boston.  His  loss  was  very  great  to  the  family 
circle.  Yet  all  the  young  people  were  at  the  time 
busy  in  getting  up  a  little  drama  called  "The  Queen 
of  the  Rose,"  to  be  acted  in  our  long  hall,  as  the 
"  Lady  of  the  Lake  "  had  been,  a  few  years  before. 
And  in  the  midst  of  all  her  cares,  and  her  journey 
to  Boston  before  her,  to  take  her  youngest  son,  my 
mother  allowed  the  play  to  go  on,  and  it  was  entirely 
successful. 

Throughout  this  winter  of  our  dear  Anne's  ab- 
sence, how  devoted  our  mother  was  to  the  education 
of  her  little  children  !  It  seemed  as  if  she  wanted 
to  make  up  to  them  and  console  herself  for  the 
absence  of  the  daughter  who  was  the  sharer  of  all 
her  cares.  I  recall  the  beautiful  winter  evenings 
when  she  gathered  us  after  tea  around  the  hall  table 
and  read  to  us  from  Good's  "Book  of  Nature,"  and 
a  plentiful  amount  of  English  history,  which  she 
made  so  dramatic  and  impressive  that  in  spite  of 
Froude,  and  all  the  light  of  modern  literature,  it  is 
difficult  for  us  to  think  of  "that  old  wretch,  Henry 
the  Eighth,"  as  she  always  called  him,  in  any  other 
light  than  hers. 

My  dear  Sox, —  When  I  saw  that  father  was 
about    to    despatch    a    quantity    of    white    paper,    I 


282  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

thought  I  would  black  a  little  more  of  it,  though 
there  are  not  many  interesting  details  with  which 
to  entertain  you.  The  bell  continues  to  ring  every 
evening,  and  people  assemble  every  morning  without 

a  bell.     Mrs.  has  been  in  to-day  to  say  she  is 

very  tired  of  living  here  and  seeing  so  much  pre- 
tence of  religion ;  but  I  told  her  I  had  found  it  con- 
venient to  keep  a  large  cloak  of  indifference  for  all 
the  disagreeable  things  that  presented  themselves 
before  me,  that  I  could  not  avoid  ;  and  if  she  would 
do  the  same  I  thought  she  would  get  along  much 
better  than  by  indulging  a  great  deal  of  feeling  on 
the  subject  as  she  seems  disposed  to  do. 

Elizabeth  Brewer  has  left  us,  and  we  felt  very 
sorry  to  part  with  her.  In  losing  her  I  have  lost 
E.  Cochran  too ;  they  both  deplored  your  loss  very 
sincerely.  May  you  always  deserve  their  regard. 
Our  little  girls  regularly  set  a  chair  for  you  at  table, 
and  a  plate ;  this  gives  me  some  pain,  but  likewise 
much  pleasure,  for  I  know  it  to  be  an  unaffected 
expression  of  their  remembrance  and  affection, — 
and  there  is  no  part  of  the  Christian  rule  I  value 
more  than  that  which  prescribes  brotherly  love, 
"Love  ye  one  another,"  —  "for  by  this  it  shall  be 
known  that  ye  are  my  disciples."  And  though  this 
command  was  not  circumscribed  by  kindred  ties,  it 
may  be  allowed  to  begin  in  families,  and  expand 
itself  over  communities.  .  .  . 

Your  affectionate 

Mother. 


THE  NAME  OF  "HANNAH"  283 

March  30,  1834. 

I  have  but  little  to  tell  you  —  I  have  been  so 
much  shut  up  —  that  can  interest  you.  But  I  know 
sister  Eliza  will  want  to  know  how  things  are  going 
on  at  the  Factory.  Jane  has  had  the  best  of  nurs- 
ing, and  when  I  went  to  see  her  yesterday,  I  found, 
preparatory  to  Mrs.  Munroe's  leaving,  she  had  got 
down  stairs ;  had  got  into  the  bedroom  next  the 
parlor,  and  was  cheerfully  seated  by  the  parlor  fire, 
with  Elizabeth  devoted  to  her,  and  Mrs.  Munroe 
quilting  the  baby  a  cradle  quilt.  The  baby  has  had 
another  name  found  to  add  to  her  value.  Hannah 
is  the  name  of  Mr.  Brewer's  mother,  and  Hannah  it 
must  be.  I  for  one  have  no  objection  to  the  name. 
Distinguished  people  have  borne  it,  in  both  sacred 
and  profane  history.  If  she  is  as  good  as  the  mother 
of  Samuel,  or  as  wise  and  exemplary  as  Hannah 
Adams,  it  will  be  of  little  consequence  what  name 
she  bears. 

Our  little  ladies  send  their  love  to  you.  They 
have  gone  this  afternoon,  with  their  father,  to  see 
sister  Jane. 

Mrs.  Moscly  Wright,  who  lived  with  and  was 
housekeeper  to  Mrs.  Napier,  is  dead,  and  I  must  at- 
tend the  funeral.  Give  my  love  to  sister  Eliza  and 
all  the  children. 

Your  affectionate 

Mother. 

I  am  afraid  she  did  not  altogether  like  the  name 
of  "  1  fannah,"  from  the  pains  she  took  to  prove  how 
excellent  it  was. 


284  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

To  Mrs.  Greene,  ATorthampton,  March  30,  1834. 

My  dear  Abby, —  There  are  certain  states  of  mind 
I  never  should  wish  to  write  in  ;  and  that  state  fur- 
nished me  with  an  excuse  for  allowing  a  number  of 
weeks  to  pass  without  writing  to  Anne  Jean. 

It  was  quite  a  blow  to  me  to  find,  after  I  got  to 
Boston,  that  Edward  was  to  be  withdrawn  from  the 
paternal  roof.  And  while  I  was  there  I  had  to  pre- 
pare him  for  the  change  of  place,  and  my  own  mind 
for  the  event.  I  find,  as  I  grow  old,  an  increased 
reluctance  to  a  separation  from  my  children  ;  and,  if 
it  were  not  that  I  consider  discontent  a  very  great 
sin,  I  am  afraid  I  should,  in  this  case,  have  become 
a  victim.  A  third  of  Joseph's  short  life  has  been 
spent  away  from  me,  and  it  seemed  very  hard  that 
Edward  should  go  (probably  never  to  return),  when 
he  was  but  fifteen  years  old ;  and  he  has  always  been 
so  remarkably  kind  and  good  in  all  his  feelings,  and 
so  desirous  to  make  those  around  him  happy,  that  it 
is  impossible  for  us  to  forget  the  chasm  produced  in 
our  family  circle.  I  always  have  aimed  to  avoid 
magnifying  the  evils  and  inconveniences  of  my  lot, 
and  hope  I  do  not  attach  too  much  consequence  to 
these  things.  Indeed,  I  have  too  many  admonitions 
in  the  fate  of  others  to  justify  myself  in  complaint. 

You  will  see  in  the  Boston  newspapers  the  death 
and  character  of  young  Dr.  James  Jackson,  the  son 
of  the  distinguished  Dr.  of  that  name.  I  wish  you 
to  notice  it.  It  was  written  without  any  exaggera- 
tion. This  death  has  shaken  the  earthly  happiness 
of  his  family  to  its  foundation,  for  he  was  their  idol 
and  pride.     He  was  a  friend  of  Joseph's,  and  through 


DEATH  OF  DR.  JAMES  JACKSON  285 

him  I  have  been  made  acquainted  with  his  worth. 
But  speaking  of  it  in  relation  to  myself,  I  feel  that 
I  ought  to  be  grateful  that  my  children  are  alive, 
even  if  I  cannot  have  the  pleasure  of  living  with 
them.  It  is  a  rare  case,  when  parents  are  the 
favored  instruments  under  Providence  of  creating 
and  bringing  to  its  highest  perfection  a  human  soul 
that  is  an  honor  to  them,  an  honor  to  human  nature, 
and,  more  than  all  the  rest,  an  honor  to  his  Maker. 
What  an  event  in  one's  life  to  reflect  upon  !  How 
much  it  must  mitigate,  while  at  the  same  time  how 
much  it  must  magnify,  the  intensity  of  feeling  !  You 
(as  well  as  /)  can  bring  it  home  to  your  own  heart 
with  a  realizing  sense.  .  .  . 

Judge  Lyman  to  his  Son,  April  2,  1S34. 

My  dear  Son, —  We  received  Joseph's  letter  last 
evening,  and  were  happy  to  hear  that  you  were  both 
well,  and  are  also  much  pleased  with  your  arrange- 
ment of  writing  every  Sabbath.  You  are  aware  that 
we  have  no  children  with  us  except  Susan  and  Cath- 
erine, and  since  you  have  left  I  have  no  one  to  aid 
me  in  attending  to  the  little  out-door  concerns. 
Your  own  good  was  the  only  inducement  to  part 
with  you,  and  it  will  be  a  source  of  great  satisfaction 
to  me  to  know  that  you  are  acceptable  to  your 
employers,  and  that  your  behavior  is  such  as  is  pecul- 
iarly gratifying  to  your  friends.  I  have  noticed  so 
often  your  diligence  in  studies  and  in  business,  that 
I  think  you  will  continue  to  deserve  the  reputation 
which  you  have  acquired.  Whenever  you  have  any 
time,  I  wish  you  to  revise  your  studies  and  preserve 
what  you  have  acquired. 


286  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

I  have  concluded  to  go  to  Cincinnati  on  the  first 
week  in  May,  and  bring  home  Anne  Jean.  I  have 
written  her  to  that  effect.  I  hope  that  no  disastrous 
occurrence  will  prevent  me. 

Our  County  Commissioners  are  now  sitting,  and  I 
am  writing  in  the  Court  House  amid  much  talk 
about  licensing  taverners  and  retailers ;  those  who 
encourage  intemperance  or  keep  disorderly  houses 
will  be  prevented  from  doing  further  mischief.  With 
us  it  is  disgraceful  to  be  seen  at  a  tavern  or  retail- 
shop  as  drinkers  or  loungers.  I  am  happy  that  it  is 
so  ;  the  work  of  reformation  goes  on  prosperously, 
and  I  am  delighted  that  you  are  coming  to  manhood 
at  a  time  when  the  vice  of  intemperance  will  be  ban- 
ished from  the  land.  Be  happy,  my  dear  son  ;  to  be 
so  — be  virtuous. 

To  her  Son,  Northampton,  April  6,  1834. 

There  is  so  little  passing  that  is  worth  making  a 
record  of,  that  if  it  were  not  that  love  and  sympathy 
are  ever  present  to  a  mother's  heart,  and  are  inex- 
haustible fountains  from  which  the  pen  is  always  sup- 
plied with  something  to  say  to  an  absent  child, —  I 
say  if  it  were  not  for  these  you  would  rarely  hear 
from  me.  Your  brother  Sam  has  added  to  his 
treasures  another  daughter.  A  lovelier  babe  I  never 
saw  ;  it  is  really  beautiful  though  but  two  days  old, 
weighing  ten  pounds.  Almira  appears  remarkably 
well  and  comfortable.  Poor  Sister  Jane  is  now  hav- 
ing a  trying  time,  and  I  have  sent  Mrs.  Carley  out  to 
stay  with  her  till  she  gets  better.  Her  child  is 
nicely.     But    she   was    not   ready    to   part  with  her 


LIFE  OF  BARCN  CUVIER  287 

nurse  ;  and  I  dare  say  she  will  soon  be  better,  now 
that  Mrs.  Carley  is  with  her, —  who  is  very  expe- 
rienced in  baby  affairs.  I  dare  say  you  saw  Mr. 
Jones  when  he  was  down.  I  hope  Mr.  Powers  got 
your  things  safely  to  you.  I  have  not  yet  heard 
of  your  getting  the  apron  and  things  contained 
in  the  first  bundle. 

I  wish  some  time  when  you  are  passing  by  print- 
shops  you  would  go  in  and  inquire  for  an  engraving 
of  Baron  Cuvier  ;  if  there  are  any  to  be  sold  quite 
cheap,  let  me  know.  I  have  been  reading  his  life, 
and  should  like  to  associate  him  (as  I  do  many  others 
whom  I  read)  with  some  particular  expression  and 
appearance,  which  I  can  do  only  by  having  a  picture 
of  him.  The  Baron  Cuvier  classes  with  the  most 
exalted  of  God's  works.  He  was  two  years  younger 
than  your  father,  and  died  two  years  ago.  Perhaps 
no  man  living  in  the  same  age  in  any  part  of  the 
world  did  as  much  good.  No  one  could  do  more,  for 
he  passed  his  life  in  the  most  untiring  industry,  com- 
mencing under  a  conflict  with  poverty,  which  how- 
ever rather  brightened  than  repressed  his  native 
genius.  And  his  success  in  the  investigation  of  one 
science  only  stimulated  him  to  the  pursuit  of  another, 
until,  at  an  early  age,  he  became  the  greatest  natu- 
ralist in  the  world  ;  and  was  chosen  the  instrument 
of  Napoleon  Bonaparte  for  forming  constitutions  for 
the  various  literary  institutions  throughout  his  vast 
dominions,  and  for  reforming  and  giving  laws  to  all 
common  schools.  And  it  truly  may  be  said  of  him 
that  his  superior  knowledge  and  love  of  science  were 
excelled    only    by    his    philanthropy,   which  led  him 


288  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

sedulously  to  apply  his  hard-earned  treasures  of  in- 
tellect to  the  various  wants  of  man.  The  acquisi- 
tion of  information  is  in  itself  a  pleasure, —  it  is 
feeding  the  better  part  of  our  nature  —  our  minds. 
But  the  good  does  not  end  here.  We  must  look  on 
these  intellectual  treasures  as  we  should  on  our 
property,  and  think,  How  can  I  apply  them  most 
usefully,  and  make  them  most  serviceable  to  myself 
and  my  fellow-creatures?  —  "What  can  I  do  to  re- 
form the  wicked  and  enlighten  the  ignorant  ? "  is 
a  question  every  one  should  put  to  himself,  and 
it  indicates  a  duty  none  are  exempt  from.  Till  we 
have  reached  maturity  we  are  the  daily  recipients 
of  favors.  And  the  only  acceptable  mode  of  prov- 
ing our  gratitude  to  our  Heavenly  Father  for  such 
a  provision  of  His  bounty  is  in  some  humble  man- 
ner to  imitate  Him,  and  do  what  we  can  to  con- 
tribute to  the  good  or  the  happiness  of  those  around 
us.  .  .  .  We  have  had  very  warm  weather,  and  a  fine 
shower  has  made  the  country  look  beautiful.  It 
seems  as  if  one  might  enjoy  every  moment,  the  sea- 
son imparts  such  cheerfulness  to  one's  spirit ;  and 
every  new  flower  that  makes  its  appearance  is  only 
a  new  expression  of  a  Heavenly  Father's  love  and 
kindness,  and  seems  to  be  calling  on  us  for  a  new 
expression,  or  rather  a  renewed  feeling,  of  love  and 
gratitude  to  the  Author  of  all  our  blessings,  and  fur- 
nishes us  with  continual  lessons  which  we  cannot 
refuse  to  extract  good  from,  and 

"  Instructs  us  to  be  great,  like  Him, 
Beneficent  and  active. 
Thus  the  men 


MISS  BEECHER  'S  PRIZE  TALE  289 

Whom  Nature's  works  instruct  with  God  himself 
Hold  converse  :  grow  familiar,  dav  by  day, 
With  His  conceptions;  act  upon  his  plan, 
And  form  to  His  the  relish  of  their  souls." 

I  did  not  mean  to  be  poetical  :  but  these  beauti- 
ful, though  simple,  expressions  of  Akenside  are 
forced  upon  my  mind  spontaneously  by  contemplat- 
ing the  subject  of  which  they  treat.  I  have  but  a 
shadow  of  the  beauties  of  Nature  near  me,  but  a 
walk  will  furnish  it  at  any  time,  and  I  am  called  to 
a  good  many  rides. 

Anne  Jean  sent  me  last  week  a  prize  tale,  for 
which  the  author,  Miss  Harriet  Eeecher,  obtained 
fifty  dollars.  I  like  it  very  much,  and,  after  I  have 
got  Mr.  Atwill  to  copy  it  into  his  paper,  will  send  it 
to  you,  for  I  think  your  sister  Eliza,  and  Joseph  and 
others,  will  be  pleased  with  it.  It  was  published  in 
the  "Cincinnati  Magazine,"  without  any  of  the  cant 
that  characterizes  Orthodox  publications,  notwith- 
standing there  is  sickness  and  death  and  conversion 
in  it. 

Mr.  Stearns  gave  us  excellent  sermons  this  morn- 
ing and  afternoon,  on  the  importance  of  watchful- 
ness of  ourselves  ;  spoke  particularly  of  giving  im- 
portance to  trifles,  and  undue  attention  to  external 
appearance, —  thereby  fostering  personal  vanity, 
which  closes  the  mind  to  good  and  improving  reflec- 
tions. I  dare  say  you  bear  a  great  many  good 
preachers,  besides  Mr.  Frothingham.  Does  he  have 
a  Sunday-school  ? 

Your  atiectionate 

Mother. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

THE  spring  of  1844  was  a  sad  one  in  our  fam- 
ily  annals.  My  father  went  to  Cincinnati  to 
bring  home  our  dear  Anne ;  and  my  mother  occu- 
pied herself  in  gathering  together  all  the  children  of 
the  neighborhood,  who  were  deprived  of  a  school  by 
Mr.  Huntington's  departure,  and  teaching  them  her- 
self, until  some  new  teacher  should  appear.  But 
very  soon  she  was  summoned  to  Enfield,  on  account 
of  the  illness  of  my  sister  Mary,  who  died  only  ten 
days  after  the  birth  of  a  son.  It  was  a  bitter  grief 
to  have  to  communicate  to  the  absent  ones  ;  and  my 
mother  wisely  kept  it  out  of  the  newspapers,  hoping 
they  might  reach  home  without  hearing  of  it  by  the 
way.  It  was  a  long  and  weary  journey  by  stages 
from  Cincinnati  to  Northampton,  and  she  had  much 
anxiety  for  the  delicate  Anne  Jean  in  taking  it. 
After  they  had  left  Albany,  and  were  in  the  stage 
for  Pittsfield,  a  neighbor  from  Northampton  entered, 
and  expressed  condolence  with  my  father  on  the  re- 
cent death  of  his  daughter.  The  shock  to  both  of 
them  was  severe,  and,  in  the  shattered  condition  of 
Anne's  health,  the  manner  of  hearing  it  affected  her 
sensibly,  as  well  as  the  loss  of  the  sister  to  whom 
she  was  so  tenderly  attached. 

Not  long  after  their  return  home  came  the  added 


A  SAD  SUMMER  291 

sorrow  of  brother  Dwight's  death,  at  a  moment  when 
they  were  looking  for  his  return,  after  a  two  years' 
absence  in  China.  I  will  not  dwell  on  this  sorrowful 
summer.  My  mother's  letters  were  full  of  sadness 
for  many  months,  and  she  felt  keenly  the  heavy  trials 
that  had  fallen  on  my  father.  She  mentions  in  one 
letter,  that,  though  they  deeply  regretted  the  illness 
of  a  young  friend  who  was  staying  with  them,  it  had 
consoled  Anne  and  herself  to  be  allowed  to  take 
care  of  her.  They  passed  a  very  quiet  summer, 
reading  the  same  books,  weeping  together  over  the 
heavier  sorrows  of  others,  and  devoted  to  the  most 
tender  and  affectionate  intercourse  after  their  long 
separation, —  the  chief  trial  of  the  present,  aside 
from  the  family  grief,  being  the  fact  that  Anne's 
health  had  sensibly  declined  within  the  year. 

In  August,  my  father's  only  brother,  our  Uncle 
Lyman,  died,  and  again  she  writes  to  Abby  :  — 

To  Mrs.  Greene,  iVorthampton,  Aug.  22.  1S34. 

My  dear  Abby, —  For  the  past  season  you  have 
continually  heard  of  the  increased  indisposition  of 
your  father.  I  have  now  to  communicate  that  he 
has  terminated  his  mortal  career,  and  that  we  fol- 
lowed him  yesterday  to  the  silent  grave,  where  he 
was  laid  by  the  side  of  her  to  whom  he  had  given 
his  earliest  and  best  affections.  Our  clergyman, 
Mr.  Stearns,  officiated  with  great  solemnity;  and, 
when  we  got  to  the  grave,  made  such  remarks  on 
the  mortality  of  all  around,  and  on  the  inevitable 
destiny  of  man,  which  was  sooner  or  later  to  bring 
us  to  the  same  point,  that,  had  there  been  any  want 


292  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

of  seriousness  or  lack  of  tears,  he  would  have  caused 
them  to  overflow. 

The  day  that  Anne  Jean  wrote  you  last,  my 
Edward,  who  was  on  a  visit  to  us  then,  carried  your 
father  to  take  a  ride  of  several  miles,  and  he  said 
riding  refreshed  him,  and  made  him  feel  better. 
Your  uncle  and  Justin  have  carried  him,  whenever 
he  felt  able  to  go,  all  summer.  But  ten  days  before 
his  death,  when  Justin  went  to  take  him  to  ride,  it 
was  impossible  to  get  him  into  the  chaise,  with  the 
assistance  of  another  man,  he  was  so  very  weak  ;  and 
from  that  time  he  grew  weaker  daily,  and  your  uncle 
found  a  man  to  go  and  watch  by  him,  day  and  night, 
till  he  died,  at  twelve  o'clock  in  the  evening,  on  the 
20th  of  this  month. 

We  (your  uncle  and  I)  left  him  at  nine  in  the 
evening,  and  thought  he  might  continue  till  morning. 
He  knew  us ;  spoke  quite  strong ;  said  he  was  in 
no  pain,  and  believed  he  was  better.  Just  at  twelve, 
he  asked  for  a  cup  of  tea,  and,  while  they  were  get- 
ting it,  ceased  to  breathe,  without  a  struggle.  The 
Sunday  previous,  we  thought  he  would  not  continue 
through  the  day,  and  your  uncle  asked  him  if  he  was 
willing  to  die,  when  he  answered,  "  I  am  always 
ready.     I  can  always  say,  as  Watts  did, — 

'  I  go  and  come ;  nor  fear  to  die, 
When  God  on  high  shall  call  me  home.'  " 

His  mind,  I  think,  has  been  much  clearer  for  the 
last  year  or  two  than  when  you  were  here,  and  I 
have  felt  sorry  that  you  could  not  witness  the  tran- 
quil happiness  he  seemed  to  enjoy;  being  able  to 


DEA  TH  OF  UXCLE  L  YMAN  293 

extend  his  view  beyond  the  "dark  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death,"  a  glorious  prospect  beyond  it 
seemed  to  be  lighted  up.  When  I  said  to  him,  "  You 
have  done  a  great  many  kindnesses  and  charitable 
actions  in  the  days  of  your  prosperity,"  he  answered 
me,  with  his  habitual  sclf-forgetfulness,  "  A  great 
many  people  have  been  kind  and  friendly  to  me," — 
never  reverting  to  the  many  who  had  been  thought- 
less and  unkind,  or,  to  say  the  least,  forgetful. 

Your  mother  has  been  much  exhausted  by  sleep- 
less nights  ;  and,  when  I  asked  her  to  return  from 
her  solitary  dwelling  with  us  for  a  week  or  two,  she 
said  she  must  remain  alone,  while  she  should  be 
permitted  to  stay  in  the  house,  and  recruit  herself. 

As  to  your  sisters,  I  know  that  children  who  are 
brought  up  in  moderate  circumstances  may  be  better 
brought  up  than  the  children  of  the  wealthy,  gen- 
erally speaking,  though  this  is  not  infallible. 

I  have  two  young  ladies,  wards  of  Dr.  Robbins's, 
who  have  been  staying  with  us  for  the  last  three 
weeks, —  Sarah  Perkins  and  Elizabeth  Spring.  An 
income  like  Miss  Perkins's  would  seem  to  preclude  a 
disinterested,  self-sacrificing  zeal  for  the  good  of  the 
distressed  ;  and  yet  she  is  very  disinterested  and 
lovely,  and  as  good  as  she  can  be. 

The  marriage  of  one  of  her  favorites,  Sally 
Lyman,  to  Mr.  Richard  L.  Allen,  was  the  next 
joyous  event  to  call  for  her  sympathy,  after  the 
sorrows  of  the  previous  spring.  In  one  of  her  letters 
at  this  time,  she  says:  "There  are  few  like  Richard 
Allen  in  the  world.     He  is  an  admirable  person." 


294  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

To  her  Son,  Sept.  13,  1835. 

I  cannot  let  Mr.  Henshaw  go  without  taking  a 
few  lines,  to  assure  you  that  you  are  constantly  re- 
membered. My  attention  has  been  a  good  deal 
taken  up  by  Mrs.  Watson,  who  came  on  Monday, 
and  is  to  leave  to-morrow.  She  has  stayed  with 
Mrs.  Dvvight,  but  has  visited  me  daily,  and  I  have 
carried  her  to  Amherst,  and  went  so  far  as  to  prom- 
ise to  go  on  the  mountain  with  her ;  but  fortunately 
the  day  appointed  was  so  very  foggy,  that  it  was  im- 
possible to  go.  Then  there  has  been  a  family  of 
Longfellows  from  Portland,  very  interesting,  agreea- 
ple  people ;  they  had  a  daughter  with  them,  who 
married  a  Mr.  Pierce,  formerly  in  the  Law  School 
here. 

I  went  up  this  evening  to  see  Mrs.  Bliss.  I  never 
have  seen  her  when  she  was  so  perfectly  beautiful ; 
she  had  the  color  given  by  a  slight  fever.  Her  eyes 
were    very    bright,    and    she    was  excited  by  seeing 

me,  and  by  having  Mrs.  by  her  side,  who  had 

just  come  in  and  had  burst  out  crying,  for  the  sake 
of  a  scene  ;  and  in  the  midst  of  it  all  the  doctor, 
whom  she  seems  much  delighted  with.  But  it  was 
the  glow  of  strong  emotion  which  irradiated  her 
whole  face,  and  presented  her  perfectly  beautiful.  I 
do  really  think  she  may  get  well  now  ;  she  has  had  a 
temporary  interruption,  which  she  is  fast  recovering 
from.  Miss  Stearns  has  been  sick  a  week  ;  she  has 
now  recovered  and  dined  here  with  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Watson,  Friday  ;  and  Mrs.  Whitmarsh  and  husband 
joined  them  in  the  afternoon. 

We   have  had  Mr.  Noyes  to  preach  all  day  ;   he 


ON  B (/LIVER'S  WRITINGS  295 

preached  finely  this  morning  on  the  justice  of  God, 
and  this  afternoon  on  cultivating  right  affections 
towards  each  other, —  showing  what  I  have  always 
said,  that  if  we  have  nothing  else  to  give,  we  can  be 
rich  in  good  affections,  and  bestow  them  where  they 
are  wanted,  and  will  do  good.  I  have  felt  the  value 
of  a  smile  of  cordiality,  and  could  realize  all  that  he 
had  to  say  on  that  subject.  I  know  what  a  balm  it 
may  be  to  a  wounded  or  a  too  deeply  humbled  spirit. 
It  is  so  late  I  cannot  write  another  word.  Mr. 
Professor  Hitchcock  has  commenced  a  course  of 
geological  lectures,  in  which  there  seems  to  be  a 
good  degree  of  interest. 

Your  affectionate  Mother. 

To  Miss  Martha  Cochran,  Jan.  12,  1S35. 

My  dear  Martha, —  Tell  dear  L.  I  cannot  say 
how  much  I  am  obliged  to  her  for  her  kindness  and 
the  books  which  I  received  two  days  since  ;  but  I 
have  not  had  time  yet  to  read  them. 

Anne  Jean  and  Miss  Caroline  Phelps,  who  is  stay- 
ing with  her,  read  to  me  the  "  Last  Days  of  Pom- 
peii." I  beg  you  will  read  it,  for  it  has  powerful  de- 
scription in  it,  partaking  of  the  sublime.  Put  it  is 
altogether  the  most  sacrilegious  thing  that  ever  was 
penned.  The  whole  reminds  me  of  Mr.  Frisbie's 
description  of  Lord  Byron's  "Works."  The  effect 
of  Bulwer's  writings  I  think  very  much  the  same  ; 
but  this  one  more  strikingly  than  any  of  the  others. 
"  The  desolate  misanthropy  of  his  mind  rises  and 
throws  its  dark  shade  over  his  writing  like  one  of  his 
own  ruined  castles  ;  we  feel  it  to  be  sublime,  but  we 


296  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

forget  that  it  is  a  sublimity  it  cannot  have,  till  it  is 
abandoned  by  everything  that  is  kind,  and  peaceful, 
and  happy,  and  its  halls  are  ready  to  become  the 
haunts  of  outlaws  and  assassins."  On  the  whole,  he 
leaves  an  impression  unfavorable  to  a  healthful  state 
of  mind,  which  is  to  be  deprecated  and  shunned. 

To  Miss  C.  Robbins,  March  30,  1835. 

.  .  .  George  Davis  has  sent  me  the  "  Recollections 
of  a  Housekeeper,"  which  is  certainly  a  most  amus- 
ing thing,  and  one  that  all  country  housekeepers 
have  a  feeling  sense  of.  The  children  read  it  to  me, 
much  to  my  entertainment. 

I  was  greatly  obliged  to  you  for  sending  "  Silvio 
Pellico."  The  history  of  his  feelings  is  an  ample 
illustration  of  the  doctrine  of  sympathy,  though 
I  think  Mr.  Roscoe  made  a  great  mistake  in  not 
giving  some  sketch  of  his  previous  life,  and  the 
political  state  of  the  country  that  should  produce 
such  calamities.  Most  young  readers  would  -be 
entirely  in  the  dark  as  to  the  cause  of  his  impris- 
onment, from  what  little  is  said  in  the  preface  about 
it.  I  have  not  had  a  chance  to  read  "  Philip  Van 
Artevelde  "  yet. 

In  September  of  1835,  came  off  a  great  celebra- 
tion at  Bloody  Brook,  South  Deerfield,  on  the  occa- 
sion of  the  one  hundredth  anniversary  of  the-  fall 
of  "the  Flower  of  Essex,"  at  the  hands  of  the 
Indians.  Mr.  Edward  Everett  was  to  be  the  orator 
of  the  occasion ;  and  my  mother  and  Anne  had 
looked   forward   to   it  for  weeks  and  months.     The 


MISS  MARTINEAU'S  VISIT  297 

beautiful  and  accomplished  orphan  daughters  of 
a  distinguished  lawyer  in  Connecticut  had,  some 
time  before,  taken  up  their  abode  in  Northampton  ; 
and,  to  find  music-scholars  for  the  elder  sister,  and 
make  her  own  home  a  pleasant  resting-place  to  them 
at  all  times,  was  now  one  of  my  mother's  many  deep 
interests.  The  second  sister,  after  an  absence  of  a 
year,  had  now  returned  to  die. 

To  her  Son,  August  2b,  1835. 

My  Dear  E. — -After  writing  such  a  poor  scrawl 
by  way  of  apology  for  not  writing,  I  feel  it  to  be  my 
duty  to  use  the  first  leisure  I  can  command  to  tell 
you  that  the  variety  of  duties  and  excitements  that 
have  occurred  in  rapid  succession,  have  pretty  much 
excluded  the  use  of  the  pen.  If  you  have  seen  your 
Aunt  Catherine,  she  has  told  you  of  all  the  fevers 
and  fervors  excited  by  Miss  Martineau's  visit. 
There  is  something  truly  animating  in  a  realizing 
sense  of  human  excellence,  accompanied  by  great 
information  and  a  simple,  unaffected  eloquence,  such 
as  is  manifested  by  this  good  lady  in  expressing  her 
opinions  not  only  of  the  great  men  in  the  world, 
whether  statesmen  or  authors,  but  also  of  the  great 
interests  of  mankind.  After  she  was  gone,  Anne 
Jean  and  I  felt  dissatisfied  with  giving  her  up,  and 
took  to  reading  her  books  again  in  our  intervals  of 
leisure,  which  though  few  and  far  between,  would 
give  us  an  idea  of  her  reflections,  and  continue  to 
us  her  mind  alter  we  had  parted  with  the  real  pres- 
ence.  Nothing  can  be  more  simple  and  unaffected, 
than  the  exterior  of  this  good,  this  delightful  char- 
acter. 


298  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

This  morning  your  Sister  Eliza  left  us,  with 
her  children.  She  was  not  well,  and  I  felt  sorry 
to  have  them  leave.  The  children  were  all  well 
and  very  good,  and  I  could  have  had  them  longer 
as  well  as  not.  We  are  enjoying  Cousin  Abby's 
visit  unspeakably.  Mr.  Greene  you  have  seen  in 
Boston  before  this  time.  Little  Catherine  is  very 
much  improved,  since  you  saw  her  here  before. 
She  is  very  much  of  a  lady  and  altogether  un- 
commonly well  behaved  and  well  governed  for  an 
only  child. 

I  was  obliged  to  stop,  and  several  days  have 
elapsed  since  I  have  been  able  to  take  my  pen 
again.  Old  Dr.  Thayer  preached  for  us  to-day  in 
consequence  of  Mr.  Stearns  having  left  us  with  his 
wife  and  child,  to  go  a  journey.  The  day  before 
your  Sister  Eliza  left  us,  we  had  Mr.  Bates's  family 
and  the  new  neighbor's,  Mr.  Church's,  to  visit  us. 
They   seem  to  be  clever  people,   at  any  rate  they 

will    do    us    as    much    good    as    Mr.    's   family. 

Everybody  is  anticipating  the  pleasure  of  going  to 
hear  Mr.  Edward  Everett's  Oration  on  Tuesday 
next.  I  hope  they  may  realize  all  they  anticipate. 
Give  my  love  to  Mrs.  Blake  and  all  friends. 

The  little  girls  have  been  in  Deerfield  a  week, 
and  had  the  most  delightful  time  that  ever  was  — 
went  to  the  Falls  you  visited  and  to  the  Glen. 
Catherine  went  to  the  Mill  with  the  young  Dr. 
several  times,  besides  visiting  every  day,  and  I 
don't  know  how  long  it  will  take  to  recover  her 
from  such  a  tour  of  dissipation.  Susan  appears 
unhurt  by  all  these  operations.     Anne  Jean  is  get- 


DEA  TH  OF  MRS.  BLISS  299 

ting  over  a  cold  and  thinks  of  accompanying  her 
cousin  to  Boston.     In  haste, 

Your  affectionate  Mother. 

To  Miss  Cochran,  Sept.  30,  1835. 

Mv  dear  Martha,— You  will  perceive  by  the 
date  that  this  is  the  eventful  day  which  has  excited 
so  much  expectation ;  and,  after  all,  neither  Anne 
Jean  nor  myself  are  enjoying  Mr.  Everett's  address. 
You  will  probably  say,  "What  a  disappointment!" 
Indeed,  it  would  be,  if  it  were  not  merged  in  a  much 
greater.  Our  friend,  Mrs.  B.,  is  just  dying  on  our 
hands,  and,  if  Anne  Jean  and  I  were  to  leave  them, 
there  would  be  no  one  to  take  our  places,  and  these 
young  sisters  are  now  in  a  state  that  they  must 
have   some  one  to  support  them  through  the  trial, 

for  they  are  entirely  prostrated  by  it.     Mrs.  II 

got  here  a  week  since,  with  all  the  effects  of  fever 
and  ague  upon  her.  The  Thursday  following,  Mrs. 
B.  experienced,  after  a  dreadful  paroxysm  of  cough- 
ing, a  very  sudden  prostration  of  strength,  and  has 
never  felt  any  power  in  her  limbs  since,  to  move 
them,  or  any  sensation  but  weight.  This  state  of 
things,  of  course,  is  an  infallible  indication  of  disso- 
lution ;  and  any  account  I  can  give  of  the  effect  this 
produced  upon  the  sisters  must  appear  so  much  like 
exaggeration,  that  it  is  not  best  to  use  any  but 
general  terms,  and  say  they  are  paralyzed  by  it. 

X.  received  your  note  and  the  fruit.  Every  ex- 
nression  of  kindness  is  grateful  to  her  feelings,  and 
she  was  much  affected  by  this  proof  of  your  con- 
tinued interest  and  remembrance. 


300  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

Since  I  have  been  writing,  Anne  Jean  has  in- 
formed me  that  she  had  begun  a  letter  to  you,  and 
I  shall  let  her  send  hers  by  mail,  and  let  mine  wait 
for  an  opportunity.  It  cannot  be  many  clays  before 
you  hear  of  Mrs.  B.'s  death.  She  has  had  great 
comfort  in  Mr.  Stearns's  daily  prayers ;  often  re- 
quests him  to  pray  that  she  may  be  resigned  to 
God's  will,  at  the  same  time  assuring  him  of  her 
wish  to  live.  Last  night  her  reason  was  very  clear, 
after  a  faint  turn  which  I  thought  would  end  her 
existence  in  a  very  few  moments  ;  and  she  spoke 
beautifully  of  the  Providence  which  had,  under 
every  trying  circumstance,  sustained  her  youth, 
and  raised  up  friends  for  her  under  every  calamity. 
Anne  Jean  has  been  able  to  stay  by  her  in  the 
daytime,  with  the  assistance  of  another,  and  I  have 
been  able  to  watch  three  times  out  of  five  nights, 
and  shall  continue  to  devote  myself  to  her  while  she 
lives.  Mrs.  Hunt,  too,  has  done  all  she  could,  by 
day  and  by  night.     Eliza  Seeger  has  watched  once. 

October  i.  To-day  Mrs.  B.  has  but  little  reason, 
and  it  does  not  make  any  difference  who  is  with  her. 
Dr.  Austin  Flint  is  greatly  afflicted  at  the  result  of 
his  care ;  has  sat  up  all  night  with  her,  and  been  as 
unwearied  as  if  she  were  his  own  wife ;  has  carried 
his  father  to  see  her  several  times,  and  is  still  of  the 
opinion  that  she  is  not  consumptive,  as  is  his  father. 
But  it  makes  no  difference  what  occasions  disease, 
if  the  result  must  be  death.  I  do  not  know  that  I 
have  ever  had  a  friend  sick,  when  I  felt  such  an  in- 
tense desire  that  they  should  recover,  as  in  this  case. 
Mrs.    B.   had,  after   many  dark   and  troubled   days, 


MR.  EVERETT'S  ADDRESS  301 

arrived  at  a  sunny  spot  in  her  existence,  the  radiance 
of  which  was  strongly  reflected  upon  the  destiny  of 
her  sisters.  I  regret  that  I  was  not  earlier  ac- 
quainted with  her,  and  have  not  done  more  for  her ; 

but  you  know,  when  she  was  with  the s,  she  was 

out  of  my  way.  And  Anne  Jean's  health  prevented 
her  from  doing  anything  about  anybody,  unless  it 
were  the  poor  or  the  sick.  She  is  now  inexpressibly 
afflicted  by  Mrs.  B.'s  state,  and  would  sacrifice  any- 
thing to  her  comfort. 

I  suppose  C.  will  go  with  her  sister,  Mrs.  H.,  to 
Buffalo.  She  is  a  good  little  lamb,  and  I  hope  some- 
thing will  occur  to  screen  her  from  the  coldness  of 
a  heartless  world  ;  for  she  has  a  degree  of  sensi- 
bility that  will  make  her  peculiarly  susceptible  to  the 
trials  she  is  likely  to  be  exposed  to.  Oh,  how  I  wish 
there  were  an  asylum  for  all  the  unhappy  and  unfort- 
unate orphans  within  my  sphere  !  and  that  it  were 
my  destiny  to  preside  over  it  and  make  them  com- 
fortable ! —  endowed,  at  the  same  time,  with  that 
heavenly-mindedness  and  Christian  benevolence 
which  would  give  efficiency  to  the  desire.  As  I  am, 
I  need  not  ask  to  take  care  of  any  more  people's 
happiness  than  has  fallen  to  me. 

Mr.  Everett  satisfied  the  expectation  of  all  who 
heard  him,  I  am  told.  Love  to  your  mother  and  sis- 
ters, And  believe  me,  truly  yours, 

Anne  Jean  Lyman. 

P.  S.  You  know  the  conflicting  interests  that  ever 
await  my  destiny.  After  I  returned  from  watching, 
this  morning.   I  was  informed  that  Miss  Martineau 


302  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

would  be  here,  and  I  should  have  the  pleasure  of 
her  company  to  dine,  together  with  that  of  Mr. 
Everett  and  Mr.  Brooks. 

October  2.  Mrs.  B.  is  still  living,  but  I  think  will 
not  be  when  this  reaches  you. 

In  the  late  autumn  of  1835,  our  dear  Anne  was 
seized  with  a  rheumatic  fever,  which  prostrated  her 
entirely  for  two  months.  Her  heavenly  patience 
under  suffering,  and  her  great  energy  and  efficiency 
in  the  few  intervals  of  comparative  health  she  en- 
joyed, made  her  frequent  illnesses  a  source  of  the 
deepest  sympathy  in  the  family  circle. 

After  writing  to  Mrs.  Greene  the  affecting  details 
of  Anne  Jean's  illness,  she  goes  on  to  tell  of  family 
affairs  and  of  the  books  she  is  reading. 

"We  have  just  been  reading  Sparks's  second  vol- 
ume of  '  Washington's  Life,'  and  are  delighted  with 
it.  I  have  never  before  realized  how  much  he  must 
have  encountered  from  his  earliest  youth,  forgetting 
all  the  convenient  and  comfortable  things  an  ample 
fortune  and  good  home  would  furnish  him  with, 
while  he  was  living  in  the  most  comfortless  manner, 
eating  for  months  what  the  meanest  slave  would 
complain  of  as  a  hardship.  How  much  our  children 
ought  to  learn  from  such  an  example  in  application 
to  the  common  affairs  of  life!  and  what  a  beautiful 
illustration  is  his  life  of  the  power  of  self-denial  and 
self-discipline  ! 

"  P.  S.  My  little  ladies  and  Anne  Jean  send  much 
love." 


THE  BE  A  UTIFUL  MRS.  ROGERS  303 

She  never  flattered  children,  but  I  think  her  pretty 
way  of  calling  us  her  "little  ladies,"  had  much  influ- 
ence on  our  self-respect. 

To  Mrs.  Greene,  Northampton,  July  11,  1S36. 

My  dear  Abby, —  Mr.  Stone  of  Dayton  called 
here  in  passing,  and  was  kind  enough  to  say  that  he 
would  take  a  letter  for  us.  I  should  have  devoted 
the  short  space  he  gave  me  to  writing,  but  I  wanted 
to  take  him  to  see  Mrs.  Rogers,  as  he  would  be 
likely  to  see  her  sister  when  he  got  home ;  and  that 
has  left  me  but  a  few  minutes  for  the  pen.  Mrs. 
Rogers  has  been  here  about  three  weeks  ;  her  calm 
loveliness  has  an  attraction  for  every  one,  though 
none  seem  to  feel  the  power  of  it  as  Anne  Jean  and 
myself  do.  In  her,  beauty  seems  to  be  the  real  type 
by  which  moral  qualities  are  expressed  in  the  outer 
man.  And  if  it  were  proved  to  be  a  false  one,  how 
entirely  would  it  lose  its  power  over  us  !  When  I 
see  Mrs.  Rogers,  I  can't  help  thinking  how  one 
particle  of  affectation  or  artificiality  in  any  of  its 
forms  would  mar  this  pure  emblem  of  virtue.  And 
her  children  seem  to  be  after  the  same  pattern. 
With  such  treasures,  Mr.  Rogers  cannot  know  the 
bitterness  of  poverty. 

To  Dr.  Austin  Flint,  Northampton,  July  rS,  1S36. 

My  dear  Austin, —  When  there  is  any  kind  of 
excitement  amongst  us,  you  know  it  comes  like  an 
overwhelming  torrent.  This  has  been  the  case  last 
week.  On  Thursday  Mr.  Webster  came  here,  I 
believe  with  the  intention  of  leaving  the  next  day. 


304  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

But  Mrs.  Webster  was  taken  quite  ill,  and  required 
a»  physician,  and  he  was  obliged  to  remain  until  she 
recovered,  which  was  not  until  the  following  Mon- 
day. Of  course,  as  he  was  well,  and  his  daughter 
who  was  with  him,  there  was  a  chance  for  a  great 
deal  of  glorification,  in  which  we  as  usual  bore  a 
distinguished  part.  On  Friday,  Mr.  Bates  and  my- 
self held  a  council  on  what  was  proper  to  be  done  by 
the  ladies,  and  agreed  there  must  be  a  party  that 
would  include  everybody  that  ever  visits,  and  who 
would  be  gratified  to  see  Mr.  Webster  and  daughter ; 
and  he  consented  that  it  should  be  at  his  house  in 
the  evening.  During  the  day,  Mr.  Lyman  and  Mr. 
Bates  were  to  ride  with  the  man  whom  the  people 
are  delighted  to  honor,  and  show  him  whatever  was 
worthy  to  be  seen  ;  and  in  the  evening  an  assembly 
at  Mr.  Bates's.  The  next  morning,  the  young  gentle- 
men and  ladies  rode  on  horseback  and  in  carriages  to 
Mount  Warner,  and  home  under  Mount  Holyoke  and 
the  Ferry,  and  in  the  evening  assembled  at  my  house  ; 
while  the  elder  gentlemen  took  a  late  dinner  at  the 
Mansion,  given  in  honor  of  Mr.  Webster,  who  came 
also  in  the  evening.  Mr.  Webster  listened  with 
absorbed  attention  to  your  sister's  playing,  an  hour 
and  a  half,  and  said  he  was  rarely  so  much  enter- 
tained by  a  lady's  music ;  and  added,  "  I  could  have 
loved  her  had  she  not  been  fair,"  —  making,  very 
gallantly,  the  quotation  from  one  of  her  prettiest 
songs. 

Only  think  of  supposing  that  you  will  get  home- 
sick and  dispirited  if  you  are  not  written  to.  I  should 
like  to  punish  you  a  little  for  letting  Mrs.  Hunting- 


THE  JOYS  THAT  REMAIN  305 

don  come  away  without  a  line  to  somebody  to  say 
that  you  had  a  pleasant  or  unpleasant  journey;  that 
the  first  impression  was  joyous  or  grievous;  that 
you  had  borne  the  separation  from  the  loved  ones 
manfully  or  otherwise.  I  wish  we  had  kept  A.  and 
baby  here  a  few  weeks,  for  then  we  should  have  been 
sure  of  hearing  from  you.  But  I  was  delighted  with 
what  Mrs.  H.  told  me ;  only  that  I  wanted  it  from 
yourself. 

After  lingering  five  weeks,  Mr.  Stearns's  child 
died  on  Tuesday  evening,  in  a  most  suffering  state. 
Your  father  and  myself  were  with  it.  The  parents 
are  exhausted  and  sick,  and  we  hope  to  get  them  to 
take  a  journey.  Dr.  Bancroft  happened  to  stop  here 
for  a  visit,  and  officiated  at  the  funeral,  and  will  send 
Mr.  Peabody  up  from  Springfield  to  preach  on 
Sunday.  Thus  the  vicissitudes  of  this  life  are  ever 
proving  to  us  that  "This  is  not  our  rest."  But  there 
are  some  joys  which  nothing  can  deprive  us  of, —  our 
peace  of  conscience,  and  sense  of  doing  right. 

"What  nothing  earthly  gives  or  can  destroy, 
The  soul's  calm  sunshine  and  the  heartfelt  joy: 
'Tis  Virtue's  pri/e : 
Is  bless'd  in  what  it  takes  and  what  it  gives." 

I  am  told  Buffalo  furnishes  an  epitome  of  the 
grossest  vices  of  the  largest  cities.  If  you  stay 
there,  you  will  often  have  an  opportunity  of  acting 
the  part  of  minister  at  large,  or  missionary.  And 
you  must  never  forget  that  every  opportunity  of 
doing  good  is  a  golden  privilege  ;  inasmuch  as  it  fur- 
nishes us  with  the  chance  to  imitate  him  "who  came 


306  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

to  minister,  and  not  to  be  ministered  unto."  Our 
worldly  and  our  spiritual  interests  are  so  beautifully 
harmonized,  that  every  thing  we  do  contributing  to 
the  latter  may  likewise  be  made  tributary  to  the 
former.  Your  profession,  like  that  of  a  clergyman, 
furnishes  the  power  for  a  wide  diffusion  of  every- 
thing that  is  useful,  morally  as  well  as  physically. 
To  be  seen  at  church  every  Sunday  is  an  unequivo- 
cal manifestation  of  your  respect  for  the  institution 
of  the  Sabbath;  the  instructions  and  reflections  of 
which  occasion  lay  deeply  at  the  foundation  of  both 
morals  and  religion.  I  know  of  no  way  to  nourish 
spiritual  life  in  the  soul  but  to  "feed  it  with  food 
convenient  for  it."  'Tis  the  day  for  balancing  our 
accounts  with  conscience,  and  laying  in  a  new  stock 
of  wise  reflections  for  future  use  ;  which  want  replen- 
ishing as  often  as  one  day  in  seven,  or  Heaven 
would  not  have  appointed  such  a  use  for  a  seventh 
part  of  our  time. 

July  23.  Since  the  above  was  written,  many 
things  have  occurred  deeply  interesting  to  my  feel- 
ings. My  friend,  Mrs.  John  Howard,  of  Springfield, 
has  died  as  she  has  expected  to, —  under  the  most 
aggravated  circumstances  that  a  woman  can  leave 
the  world.  She  never  gave  birth  to  her  child  ;  but 
died  in  the  effort.  In  this  dreadful  manner  have  six 
of  my  youthful  contemporaries  departed  this  life  ; 
though  some  of  them  were  advanced,  as  was  Mrs. 

.     This  morning  I  received  a  letter  from  dear 

Anne  Flint,  which  was  unexpected,  I  assure  you; 
for  I  thought,  with  the  baby  not  very  well,  she  had 
enough  to  do  without  writing  to  any  one  but  her 


EXPRESSIVE  USE  OF  LANGUAGE  307 

husband ;  and  I  knew  she  would  be  faithful  to  that 
duty.  She  expresses  much  pleasure  in  the  idea  that 
you  are  encouraged  as  it  regards  your  future  pros- 
pects. I  am  delighted  that  you  realize  your  antici- 
pations. We  can  never  have  unmingled  pleasure  in 
seeing  and  being  near  our  friends,  unless  we  can  see 
them  prosperous  to  a  certain  extent,  and  happy. 
That  you  may  always  be  so,  and  deserve  to  be  so, 
is  the  ardent  wish  of  my  heart. 

I  passed  all  day  yesterday  in  your  father's  society, 
at  Mr.  C.  P.  Huntington's,  who  has  another  son.  I 
have  seen  your  sister  S.  this  morning.  She  was  just 
going  to  take  a  ride  to  Belchertown  to  pass  the  day. 
She  says  the  terms  of  existence  are  much  mitigated 
to  her  by  having  a  good  domestic  ;  they  are  all  well 
at  your  father's.  What  shall  I  say  in  extenuation  of 
the  crime  of  writing  such  a  long  and  unprofitable 
epistle  ?  But,  no  matter ;  by  an  effort  of  imagi- 
nation you  can  convince  yourself  that  it  is  written 
by  an  affectionate  mother  after  her  first  separation 
from  an  amiable  and  much-loved  son. 

I  think,  if  you  remain  in  Buffalo,  you  will  find  no 

difficulty  in  getting  the  organ  for to  play  upon. 

Yours  affectionately, 

A.  J.  Lyman. 

In  the  foregoing  letter,  my  mother  tells  Dr.  Flint 
that  his  sister  said,  "the  terms  of  my  existence  are 
much  mitigated,"  &c.  This  young  girl  could  never 
have  made  use  of  that  expression ;  and  this  her  cor- 
respondent knew.  My  mother  and  her  sister,  Eliza 
Robbins,  had  both  of  them  a  wonderful  use  of  Ian- 


308  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

guage.  I  have  never  heard  anything  at  all  like  it. 
To  repeat  the  things  they  said  always  makes  them 
sound  pedantic  ;  but  on  their  lips  this  was  never  the 
case.  As  late  as  the  summer  of  1856,  in  Cambridge, 
my  mother  took  her  grand-daughter,  Hannah  Brewer, 
to  the  window,  and  described  in  most  glowing  lan- 
guage the  change  in  the  appearance  of  the  Common  ; 
beginning,  "  Formerly,  Hannah,  this  green  expanse 
was  only  an  arid  waste ; "  and  going  on  as  if  she 
mere  making  a  speech.  And  the  same  summer, 
when  I  was  crossing  the  Common  with  her,  she 
stopped  suddenly,  looked  at  the  little  trees  with 
their  growing  foliage,  and  exclaimed  :  "  Oh  Susanna  ! 
I  have  crossed  this  Common  under  the  vertical  rays 
of  a  meridian  sun,  when  I  have  sighed  'for  a  lodge 
in  some  vast  wilderness,  some  boundless  contiguity 
of  shade.'     But,  thank  God,  that  time  has  passed." 

It  is  related  of  my  Aunt  Eliza,  that  once,  being 
on  a  visit  to  the  poet  Bryant,  she  remained  alone  in 
his  study  ;  when  a  cabinet-maker  brought  home  a 
chair  that  had  been  altered.  When  Mr.  Bryant  re- 
turned, he  said,  "  Miss  Robbins,  what  did  the  man 
say  about  my  chair?"  "That  the  equilibrium  is 
now  admirably  adjusted,"  said  Aunt  Eliza,  scarcely 
lifting  her  eyes  from  the  book  she  was  reading. 
"What  a  fine  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Bryant  laughing;  "I 
never  heard  him  talk  like  that  !  Now,  Miss  Rob- 
bins,  what  did  he  say  ?  "  "  Well,  he  said  '  It  joggled 
just  right, '"  said  my  aunt. 

In  the  "  Life  of  Catherine  M.  Sedgwick,"  in  a 
letter  from  Miss  Sedgwick  to  Mrs.  Minot,  on  page 
320,  occurs  this  reference  to  my  Aunt  Eliza: — • 


THE  EDUCATION  OF  AFFAIRS  309 

"  I  called  to  see  Miss  Robbins  on  my  way  home. 
She  lamented  her  brother's  death  with  the  eloquence 
of  an  old  Hebrew.  If  your  eyes  were  shut,  you 
might  have  fancied  that  it  was  a  supplemental  chap- 
ter of  Job.  It  was  a  holy  rhapsody  on  life  and 
death.  I  thought  I  should  have  remembered  some 
of  it,  but  I  might  as  well  have  caught  a  pitcher  of 
water  from  the  Falls  of  Niagara, —  its  force  carried 
it  away." 

To  her  Son,  Sept.  25,  1836. 

When  you  spoke  of  but  just  coming  to  the  con- 
viction of  what  Sunday  was  for,  it  reminded  me  of 
what  I  have  often  said,  "  that,  though  precept  is 
good,  experience  is  a  better  teacher  still."  You  have 
always  seen  and  felt  that  it  was  a  day  to  acknowl- 
edge and  worship  a  Heavenly  Father,  and  learn 
what  our  duty  to  him  is.  But  now  your  experience 
teaches  you  to  realize,  that  in  addition  to  those 
duties  there  is  another  design  in  it  ;  and  on  that 
day  a  man  may  rest  from  his  labors  and  give  him- 
self up,  while  resting  the  body,  to  holy  meditation, 
and  to  balancing  the  accounts  of  his  conscience, 
seeing  wherein  he  can  improve  upon  the  past  week ; 
and  with  the  aid  of  such  reflections  he  may  extract 
much  good  from  the  circumstances  which  have  oc- 
curred to  him.  Many  think  that  books  are  the  only 
source  of  improvement  ;  but  the  affairs  of  this  life, 
while  they  enlarge  our  experience,  may  continually 
administer  to  our  improvement  by  proper  reflec- 
tion,—  and  books  can  be  of  no  use  without  reflec- 
tion,    though     most    valuable     auxiliaries    with     it. 


310  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

"  Keep  thy  heart  with  all  diligence,"  was  a  wise 
admonition  from  our  wisest  and  best  of  friends.  In 
those  few  words  are  contained  a  great  many  valuable 
principles.  It  may  be  interpreted,  Keep  your  affec- 
tions pure ;  avoid  all  pleasures  that  are  sinful,  and 
hurt  the  soul :  there  are  endless  pleasures  which 
are  innocent,  and  improve  it.  Cultivate  a  sense  of 
the  presence  of  an  All-seeing  Eye,  one  whom  you 
would  not  for  the  world  offend. 

Now  I  am  in  too  much  pain  to  sit  long  to  write  ; 
it  is  two  months  since  I  have  known  any  long  in- 
terval from  pain.  I  was  three  days  divested  of  it, 
and  wrote  all  my  friends  I  had  got  well ;  but  at  the 
end  of  that  time  it  returned  with  renewed  violence, 
though  not  at  all  as  I  had  it  last  winter,  and  the 
year  before.  I  continue  to  take  quinine,  and  use 
the  same  remedies  I  did  under  Dr.  A.  Flint's  care ; 
but  I  dare  say  it  will  hang  on  three  months  as 
usual.  .  .  . 

Give  my  love  to  all  friends,  and  believe  me  the 
greatest  pleasure  of  my  life  is  that  my  children  are 
good  and  an  honor  to  their  parents.  When  I  am 
in  the  most  severe  bodily  pain,  I  can  say  with 
heartfelt  satisfaction  this  is  nothing,  when  I  think 
of  those  whose  children  are  a  source  of  daily  tears. 

In  the  last  letter  to  my  brother  Edward,  my 
mother  mentions  being  in  much  pain.  To  those 
who  remember  the  fearful  sciatica  that  attacked  her 
in  1834,  and  lasted  for  five  years  with  intense  sever- 
ity, her  infrequent  and  slight  allusion  to  it  is  mar- 
vellous.    For    months     together    she    would    often 


HEROIC  BEARING  OF  PAIN  311 

pass  whole  nights  walking  the  room  in  agony ;  but 
at  the  breakfast-table  no  mention  of  all  she  had 
endured  escaped  her.  She  bore  the  infliction  with 
the  heroism  of  a  martyr,  intermitted  none  of  her 
duties,  laid  aside  none  of  her  hospitalities  ;  simply 
remarking,  when  we  expressed  sympathy  for  her, 
or  wonder  that  she  could  do  so  much,  that  she 
thanked  God  for  the  great  physical  strength  that 
enabled  her  to  go  on  with  her  work  even  in  misery. 
The  elder  Dr.  Flint  showed  her  the  greatest  con- 
sideration and  sympathy.  He  once  told  me  he 
had  never  given  powerful  sedatives  with  so  little 
effect. 

In  the  autumn  of  1836,  our  dear  Anne  went  to 
her  room  for  the  last  time.  Ten  weeks  of  alterna- 
tion between  hope  and  fear  followed,  and  on  the 
2 1  st  of  January,  1837,  this  saintly  young  spirit,  this 
ideal  daughter,  sister,  and  friend,  with  her  exquisite 
beauty  and  Madonna-like  purity  passed  from  earth 
to  the  society  of  angels. 

To  her  Son,  Dec.  1 1,  1S36. 

I  have  nothing  new  to  tell  you  of  Anne ;  she 
seems  to  have  reached  a  stationary  point  in  her 
disease.  She  suffers  a  great  deal,  and  by  her  con- 
tinuing so  lung  I  think  it  fair  to  hope  that  a  favora- 
ble change  may  yet  take  place, —  though  at  present 
there  is  not  even  a  faint  indication  of  any  thing  of 
the  sort.  You  may  well  suppose  I  feel  my  spirits 
worn  out,  when  I  tell  you  she  scarcely  ever  loses 
herself  in  sleep,  notwithstanding  continued  draughts 
of  an  anodyne  character.  She  can't  bear  any  thing 
on  her  stomach  but  such  draughts  and  soda  water. 


312  RE COLLE C TIONS  OF  M Y  MO  THER 

I  was  surprised  to  hear  of  my  friend,  Mrs.  Bar- 
nard's death,  but  I  hope  her  friends  will  see  nothing 
but  mercy  in  this  dispensation.  I  had  heard  she 
was  considered,  at  Hartford,  as  incurable ;  and, 
to  me,  death  seemed  like  a  friend  to  her.  Mrs. 
Barnard's  uniform  kindness  and  sisterly  affection, 
which  commenced  with  my  earliest  childhood,  never 
will  be  effaced  from  my  memory.  I  am  glad  I  have 
not  seen  her  since  her  reason  was  impaired,  for  my 
impressions  of  her  are  always  agreeable.  Anne 
Jean  observed,  when  I  told  her  of  her  death,  "no 
one  ever  did  so  much  to  make  me  happy  as  Mrs. 
Barnard,  except  my  near  relatives."  Many  young 
people  may  say  the  same  thing  with  equal  truth. 
Assure  her  husband  and  children,  and  Miss  Bent, 
of  my  warmest  sympathy ;  for  I  shall  not  be  able 
to  write  to  them,  as  I  should  under  other  circum- 
stances. .  .  . 

Judge  Lyma,7i  to  his  Son,  Northampton,  Jan.  i,  1S37. 

Dear  E., —  I  have  nothing  new  to  say  concerning 
dear  Anne  Jean's  situation.  She  is  much  as  she 
has  been  for  the  last  twelve  clays.  Within  that 
time  we  have  had  some  days  when  we  have  been 
much  encouraged,  and  had  strong  hopes  of  her 
recovery.  This  day  we  have  been  discouraged, — 
though  Dr.  Flint  says  that  she  is  no  worse.  What 
the  event  may  be  is  known  only  to  Him  with  whom 
are  the  issues  of  life  and  death.  To  his  will  it  is 
our  duty  to  be  submissive  and  resigned.  My  heart 
is,  perhaps,  too  much  bound  up  in  this  dear  child, 
whom    I    have   ever  expected    to    soothe    my   dying 


THE   WONDERFUL  AURORA  OF  1837         313 

moments,  to  submit  patiently  to  such  a  dispensation 
of  Providence  as  would  deprive  me  of  her.  Dr. 
Flint  continues  to  encourage  us,  yet  we  are  at 
times  distrustful. 

Wishing  you  a  happy  New  Year,  and  that  you 
may  increase  in  knowledge,  virtue,  and  usefulness, 
is  the  earnest  prayer  of 

Your  affectionate  father, 

Joseph  Lyman. 

Our  dear  Anne  died  on  Saturday  evening,  the 
2 1  st  of  January.  When  there  occurs  one  of  those 
marvellous  natural  phenomena  that  excites  universal 
wonder  and  delight,  we  are  wont  to  associate  it  with 
the  event  most  deeply  interesting  to  us  at  the  time. 
I  recall,  at  this  distant  day,  the  sad  evening  after 
her  funeral,  when,  after  our  brother  Sam  and  sister 
Almira  had  left  us, —  they  also  in  the  deepest  afflic- 
tion for  the  loss  of  their  beautiful  little  daughter, 
who  had  died  only  a  few  hours  later,  and  was  laid 
in  the  same  grave  with  our  Anne, —  as  we  all  sat 
mournfully  round  the  fire  in  the  old  parlor,  the  door 
opened  softly,  and  our  kind  neighbor,  Mrs.  Hunt, 
looked  in.  "I  think  it  would  do  you  all  good,"  she 
said  gently,  "  to  come  to  the  front  door  and  look 
out."  We  all  put  on  shawls,  and  went  out  into  the 
snow.  Oh,  what  a  glorious  scene  was  that !  The 
whole  heavens  were  red  and  glowing,  from  horizon 
to  horizon  :  the  snow  was  red,  and  the  effect  of  this 
wondrous  light  upon  the  whole  landscape,  the  leaf- 
less trees,  the  buildings,  was  something  magical  and 
indescribable.     No  telegraphs  announced  next  morn- 


314  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

ing  how  that  wonderful  aurora  of  1837  extended 
over  the  whole  northern  hemisphere ;  but,  in  the 
course  of  a  week  or  ten  days,  the  newspapers  had 
informed  us  how  all  the  principal  cities  had  received 
this  spectacle ;  how  fire-engines  had  been  pursuing 
what  they  supposed  to  be  a  great  fire,  for  many 
miles,  in  cities  like  New  York  and  Philadelphia. 

Only  a  few  years  later,  our  friend,  Mrs.  Hunt, 
was  called  to  part  with  her  daughter  Maria.  And 
shortly  afterwards  occurred  another  scene, —  differ- 
ent, it  is  true,  but  equally  impressed  upon  the  minds 
of  those  who  witnessed  it.  A  gentle  rain  falling  all 
night  had  frozen  about  the  trees  and  over  every 
little  twig  and  bush  in  our  village,  and  we  waked  to 
a  brilliant  sunshine  and  blue  sky,  and  a  fairy-land 
of  prisms  and  wonderful  enchantment.  The  whole 
village  was  astir;  sleigh-bells  were  jingling  every- 
where. Every  one  who  could  hire,  beg,  or  borrow 
a  sleigh  or  horse  of  any  description  was  out  as  if 
for  holiday.  Up  to  Round  Hill  first,  then  down  to 
the  Meadows;  neighbors  joyously  hallooing  to  each 
other  from  morning  till  night.  And,  oh !  when 
evening  came,  and  the  full  moon  shone  down  on 
the  beautiful  village,  what  words  can  describe  the 
scene!  I  remembered  the  aurora  of  1837,  and  Mrs. 
Hunt's  calling  us  to  look  at  it.  And  I  went  to  her 
door  and  asked  her  to  come  out.  Through  her  tears 
she  said  with  fervor,  "  Oh  !  if  this  world  can  be  so 
beautiful,  what  must  be  that  to  which  my  child  has 
gone  !  " 


DEA  Til  OF  ANNE  JEA  N  L  YMAN  3 1 5 

To  Dr.  Austin  Flint,  Feb.  1,  1837. 

Your  letter,  my  dear  Austin,  reached  me  at  the 
very  moment  when  I  was  expecting  the  immediate 
departure  of  my  beloved  child  ;  but  she  revived,  and 
lived  two  days  afterwards.  How  can  I,  if  I  would, 
describe  to  you  all  the  sorrow  of  this  separation  ? 
I  have  no  language  adequate  to  the  expression  of 
what  I  have  suffered,  and  what  I  must  suffer.  The 
shadows  of  the  past  hang  like  a  cloud  over  my 
path ;  they  obstruct  my  view  of  the  future ;  and 
I  am  almost  in  doubt  where  I  am,  or  what  I  shall 
do  next.  I  can  say,  with  Job,  "  Though  he  slay  me, 
yet  will  I  trust  in  God."  But,  think  how  all  my 
plans,  all  my  objects  in  life,  were  connected  with 
her  that  is  gone !  Was  she  not  my  sun-light,  my 
angel  of  mercy,  my  pride,  my  stay,  my  companion 
and  friend  ;  and  withal  (unworthy  as  I  am  to  have 
that  privilege)  my  holy  child  ?  She  was,  indeed,  more 
a  being  of  heaven  than  earth  ;  and  why  should  she 
stay  here  ?  It  was  my  greatest  pleasure  to  make  her 
happy.  But  who  could  release  her  while  on  earth 
from  that  dreadful  burden  her  Heavenly  Father  had 
seen  fit  to  lay  upon  her?  She  was,  indeed,  perfected 
through  much  suffering.  Dear  child  !  I  wish  I 
could  dispossess  my  mind  of  the  weeks  and  months 
of  anguish  by  which  she  was  finally  brought  to 
resign  this  life.  I  could  have  been  more  resigned 
to  commit  her  to  some  of  the  many  mansions  pre- 
pared lor  those  who  die  in  the  Lord  ;  but  I  have 
found  it  very  difficult  to  be  resigned  to  her  suffer- 
ings. The  long  and  sleepless  days  and  nights, 
which    continued    nine   weeks,   are    ever    before    my 


316  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

imagination,  like  so  many  spectres ;  and  I  feel 
thankful  when  I  can  lose,  but  for  a  short  time,  this 
painful  and  all-absorbing  consciousness  of  distress ; 
and  I  am  trying  in  every  possible  way  to  divert  my 
thoughts  from  it.  Many  people  ask  me  what  she 
said  and  what  she  did.  I  can  only  answer,  she 
suffered  all  the  time.  If  there  was  an  interval  long 
enough,  she  was  willing  to  be  amused  in  any  way ; 
or  to  have  prayers  read,  or  the  Scriptures.  Her 
mind  was  always  unclouded  and  rational ;  and,  when 
she  was  able  to  see  him,  she  enjoyed  Mr.  Stearns's 
conversation  and  prayers.  But  she  told  him  he 
must  not  expect  the  same  degree  of  religious  fervor 
from  her,  that  was  common  to  her  in  health,  for 
she  felt  that  all  her  powers  were  under  the  dominion 
of  disease.  She  said  she  had  no  fear  of  death. 
She  was  at  peace  with  her  Maker,  and  with  all  man- 
kind. She  was  truly  "a.  holy  child  of  God,"  whose 
excellences  could  be  discovered  only  in  the  recesses 
of  her  retirement. 

You  know  with  what  a  relentless  grasp  disease 
had  fastened  itself  upon  her.  I  shall  not  attempt  it, 
but  I  wish  your  father  would  give  you  an  account 
of  the  variety  of  derangements  that  have  been  fixed 
for  years  upon  her  constitution.  She  was  convinced 
herself,  and  spoke  of  it,  that  she  must  have  been 
very  carefully  medicated  when  under  your  care  a 
year  ago,  ever  to  have  regained  any  portion  of  health, 
after  that  long  and  dreadful  fever.  She  often  spoke 
of  your  saying  to  her,  "You  must  make  an  effort  to 
get  out  of  your  room  and  take  the  air,  and  get  some 
exercise."     "How  little  he  knows,"  said  she,  "that 


OPPORTUNITIES  OF  A  PHYSICIAN         317 

it  is  an  effort  to  live,  under  any  circumstances  ;  and 
to  draw  the  vital  air,  even  in  my  easy-chair."  How 
often  I  have  shed  tears  over  such  recitals,  Heaven 
only  knows.  To  feel  that  one  so  young  was  under 
a  perpetual  blight  was  at  times  unspeakably  dis- 
tressing to  me.  But  why  should  I  prolong  this 
gloomy  subject?  It  is  because  "out  of  the  fulness 
of  the  heart,  the  mouth  speaketh  ; "  and  I  have  no 
power  to  think  of  other  subjects. 

came   to   see  me  yesterday  ;    she  says  your 

father  thinks  and  talks  of  you  a  great  deal,  and 
entertains   a   tender   anxiety   for    your  progress.     I 

judge  from  what  Mr.  says  about  your  lectures, 

that  you  are  encouraged  that  they  will  be  an  advan- 
tage to  you.  I  was  much  obliged  to  you  for  sending 
me  the  newspaper,  and  I  sent  it  to  your  father.  If 
I  could  have  given  attention  to  any  thing  but  my 
sick-room,  I  would  have  sent  it  to  your  grandfather. 
You  must  not  think  I  am  unwilling  to  be  the  reposi- 
tory of  your  troubles,  if  you  will  only  allow  me  to  be 
the  participator  of  your  joys.  Anne  Jean  said,  "  I 
am  delighted  that  he  has  found,  amidst  all  the  disap- 
pointments of  this  world,  what  a  resource  religious 
hope  is.  May  he,  in  his  life,  illustrate  the  'beauty  of 
holiness.'  May  he  spend  it  in  laying  up  treasure  in 
heaven."  Now  your  very  profession  constitutes  you 
an  "angel  of  mere}',"  one  of  Heaven's  agents  for 
applying  antidotes  to  the  physical  miseries  of  the 
human  race  ;  it  enables  you  to  mitigate  the  suffer- 
ing of  your  fellow-creatures.  And  I  know  by  my 
own  experience,  both  of  yourself  and  others,  the 
magical  charm   in  obliterating  mental  suffering,  such 


318  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY. MOTHER 

as  we  often  find  combined  with  physical  pain,  that 
gentlemen  of  your  profession  have  power,  by  kind- 
ness and  suavity  of  manner,  so  liberally  to  admin- 
ister. 

Give  my  love  to  dear  Anne,  and  the  baby ;  tell 
her  to  consider  this  as  equally  addressed  to  herself. 
Tell  her  she  must  look  on  all  the  disappointments 
she  meets  with  in  life,  as  so  many  ministers  of  good 
to  her  soul.  She  must  not  allow  them  to  make  her 
impatient,  but  apply  them  so  as  to  produce  "the 
peaceable  fruits  of  righteousness."  If  she  does  not, 
her  religion  is  of  no  avail. 

Yours  most  affectionately, 

Anne  Jean  Lyman. 

Mr.  R.  W.  Emerson  to  Mrs.  Lyman,  Concord,  Feb.  3,  1S37. 

My  Dear  Madam, —  I  have  not  attempted  to  write 
to  you  since  I  heard  of  the  death  of  Anne  Jean,  for 
death  makes  us  all  dumb.  They  who  have  had 
many  losses,  gain  thereby  no  wisdom  that  can  be 
imparted,  and  each  loss  makes  us  more  and  not  less 
sufferers  by  all  that  follow.  Yet  I  must  write,  if 
only  to  tell  you  that  the  news  was  very  painful  to 
me, — -to  me,  quite  out  of  the  pleasant  circle  in 
which  she  was  living,  and,  on  account  of  my  dis- 
tance, quite  uncertain  of  ever  seeing  her.  How 
gladly  I  have  remembered  the  glimpses  I  had  of  her 
sunny  childhood,  her  winning  manners,  her  persuad- 
ing speech  that  then  made  her  father,  I  believe,  call 
her  his  "lawyer."  In  the  pleasant  weeks  I  spent 
at  your  house,  I  rejoiced  in  the  promise  of  her 
beauty,  and  have  pleased  myself  with   the  hope  that 


EMERSON'S  LETTER  OF  CONDOLENCE     319 

she  was  surmounting  her  early  trials,  and  was  des- 
tined to  be  one  of  those  rare  women  who  exalt 
society,  and  who  make  credible  to  us  a  better  society 
than  is  seen  in  the  earth.  I  still  keep  by  me  one  of 
her  drawings  which  she  gave  me.  I  have  scarcely 
seen  her  face  since.  But  we  feel  a  property  in  all 
the  accomplishments  and  graces  that  we  know, 
which  neither  distance  nor  absence  destroys.  For 
my  part,  I  grudge  the  decays  of  the  young  and  beau- 
tiful whom  I  may  never  see  again.  Even  in  their 
death,  is  the  reflection  that  we  are  forever  enriched 
by  having  beheld  them, —  that  we  never  can  be  quite 
poor  and  low,  for  they  have  furnished  our  heart  and 
mind  with  new  elements  of  beauty  and  wisdom. 

And,  now  she  is  gone  out  of  your  sight,  I  have 
only  to  offer  to  you  and  to  Judge  Lyman  my  respect- 
ful and  affectionate  condolence.  I  am  sure  I  need 
not  suggest  the  deep  consolations  of  the  spiritual 
life,  for  love  is  the  first  believer,  and  all  the  remem- 
brances of  her  life  will  plead  with  you  in  behalf  of 
the  hope  of  all  souls.  How  do  we  go,  all  of  us,  to 
the  world  of  spirits,  marshalled  and  beckoned  unto 
by  noble  and  lovely  friends  !  That  event  cannot  be 
fearful  which  made  a  part  of  the  constitution  and 
career  of  beings  so  finely  framed  and  touched,  and 
whose  influence  on  us  has  been  so  benign.  These 
sad  departures  open  to  us,  as  other  events  do  not, 
that  ineradicable  faith  which  the  secret  history  of 
every  year  strips  of  its  obscurities, —  that  we  can 
and  must  exist  forevermore. 

You  will  grieve,  I  know,  at  the  absence  of  Joseph, 
at  this  time.      I  lament  his  great   loss.     When  you 


320  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

write  him,  please  send  him  my  affectionate  remem- 
brance. He  has  kindly  forwarded  to  me  lately  a 
bundle  of  Charles's  letters  to  him,  which  have  given 
great  pleasure  to  my  mother,  Elizabeth  Hoar,  and 
myself.  My  mother  feels  drawn  to  you  by  likeness 
of  sorrows,  and  desires  me  to  express  to  you  her 
sympathy. 

Your  friend, 

R.  Waldo  Emerson. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

In  thy  far-away  dwelling,  wherever  it  be, 

I  believe  thou  hast  visions  of  mine  ; 
And  thy  love,  that  made  all  things  as  music  to  me, 

I  have  not  yet  learned  to  resign  ; 
In  the  hush  of  the  night,  on  the  waste  of  the  sea, 

Or  alone  with  the  breeze  on  the  hill, 
I  have  ever  a  presence  that  whispers  of  thee, 

And  my  spirit  lies  down  and  is  still. 

And  though,  like  a  mourner  that  sits  by  a  tomb, 

I  am  wrapped  in  a  mantle  of  care, 
Vet  the  grief  of  my  bosom, —  oh  !  call  it  not  gloom, — 

Is  not  the  black  grief  of  despair 
By  sorrow  revealed,  as  the  stars  are  by  night, 

Far  off  a  bright  vision  appears  ; 
And  Hope,  like  the  rainbow,  a  creature  of  light, 

Is  born  like  the  rainbow, —  in  tears. 

T.  K.  Hervey. 

ALTHOUGH  my  clear  mother  had  experienced 
griefs  and  disappointments,  such  as  come  to 
all  the  children  of  earth,  no  sorrow  had  ever  been  to 
her  like  the  loss  of  our  Anne.  Anne  resembled  her 
father  more  in  temperament  and  character  than  she 
did  her  mother.  Her  temperament  was  always 
balm  to  the  large  and  generous,  but  too  impulsive, 
spirit,  whom  she  loved  and  understood  as  few  others 
did.  My  mother's  grief  was  life-long;  and  we,  who 
knew  her  best,  felt  that  from  this  time  on  she  lived 
always  in  the  invisible  presence  of  the  beloved  child 


322  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

who  had  gone.  There  was  not  a  trace  of  selfishness 
in  her  grief,  or  of  rebellion ;  it  was  the  pure  and  in- 
tense sorrow  of  longing  for  the  beautiful  presence 
and  companionship  that  had  rounded  her  life.  The 
forms  of  grief  were  nothing  to  her;  she  never  shut 
herself  up  for  a  day ;  the  house  was  open  to  friends 
and  neighbors,  as  it  always  had  been  ;  and  to  the 
casual  observer  there  might  seem  little  change. 
But  what  added  tenderness  and  sympathy  for  all 
sorrow  we  saw  in  her,  and  renewed  activity  in  serv- 
ing all  who  came  within  her  reach  !  And  as  years 
wore  on,  her  cheerfulness  returned,  and  that  fulness 
of  life  that  gave  joy  to  many, —  although,  while  rea- 
son lasted,  she  was  subject  to  occasional  days  of 
violent  and  bitter  weeping  for  Anne  Jean,  which 
nothing  could  assuage, —  even  as  late  as  twenty 
years,  and  more,  after  her  departure. 

To  her  Son,  Feb.  8,  1837. 

I  thought  as  soon  as  you  had  gene  I  should  busy 
myself  in  setting  my  house  in  order,  getting  rid  of 
Lucy,  and  attending  to  all  sorts  of  creature-com- 
forts ;  but  no  such  things  did  I  do.  I  found  I  had 
come  to  a  golden  opportunity  for  reflection,  and  I 
would  avail  myself  of  it,  and  let  Mrs.  Bird  and 
others  take  care  of  my  affairs.  How  I  wish  I  could 
set  my  mind  in  order  with  the  same  ease  that  I  can 
my  house;  that  that  large  branch  of  the  mental 
household  we  call  the  affections  could  be  revolution- 
ized,—  changed  in  its  various  appropriations,  with 
the  same  facility  we  do  our  furniture  !  But  it  is  not 
so.     She  who    has    occupied  my  first  thoughts,  my 


TAKING  UP  LIFE  AGAIN  323 

most  tender  interest,  because  of  her  infirmity  for  so 
long  time,  still  keeps  possession  of  my  heart,  and 
blinds  my  eyes  to  other  and  now  more  important 
callings.  But  we  must  direct  our  thoughts  into 
other  channels,  and  appropriate  our  attention  to 
other  subjects  than  have  hitherto  engaged  them; 
and  accustom  ourselves  to  the  new  duties  that  have 
devolved  upon  us,  by  this  change  in  our  hearts ; 
and,  like  others  in  like  circumstances,  in  time  we 
shall.     But  it  can't  be  done  in  a  minute.  .  .  . 

Feb.  14,  1S37. 

Since  Susan  recovered  from  her  indisposition  we 
have  had  the  interruption  of  a  good  many  calls. 
I  cannot  say  I  have  received  any  that  were  not 
grateful  to  me,  for  they  seemed  to  be  a  sincere 
expression  of  kindness  and  sympathy  ;  and  I  have 
had  every  proof  of  the  respect  they  had  for  the 
character  of  my  departed  daughter.  My  neighbors 
have  all  expressed  regret  that  they  could  not  do 
any  thing  for  Anne  Jean,  who  had,  they  said,  "done 
so  much  for  others."  There  is  a  pleasure  in  feeling 
that  we  are  remembered  in  our  trouble,  and  are 
the  subjects  of  the  good  will  of  those  around  us. 
And  it  is  particularly  gratifying  to  know  that  one 
you  loved  and  appreciated  was  likewise  valued  by 
your  friends  and   neighbors. 

I  have  last  week  read  aloud  to  your  father  "  Von 
Raumer's  England,"  as  it  was  in  1835,  during  the 
change  of  the  ministry,  and  the  passage  of  the 
Reform  Bill  ;  likewise,  "  Ion," —  a  tragedy,  beauti- 
fully written,  with  a  very  poor  plot.     J  am  glad  you 


324  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

have  heard  Mr.  Emerson's  lectures  ;  whatever  cen- 
sures he  may  incur  from  those  too  gross  for  his 
refinement,  he  will  always  draw  from  a  fountain  of 
purity  and  accurate  information.  I  had  an  excellent 
letter  from  him,  and  shall  acknowledge  it  at  my 
leisure.  .  .  .  The  children  are  a  constant  comfort  to 
me ;  I  don't  know  what  I  could  do  without  them. 

Your  affectionate  Mother. 

To  Mrs.  Greene,  Feb.  20,  1837. 

My  dear  Abby, —  I  got  your  letter  and  Mr. 
Greene's  yesterday.  They  are  a  cordial  to  our 
wounded  spirits.  There  is  a  melancholy  pleasure 
in  realizing  that  our  friends  make  common  cause 
with  us  in  our  affliction.  I  know  that  you  are 
among  the  few  who  could  know  and  appreciate  my 
dear,  departed  daughter.  The  world  had  left  no 
stain  upon  her  heart.  And  I  feel  no  doubt  that  she 
is  enjoying  the  beatitude  of  "  the  pure  in  heart." 
Dear,  holy  child !  I  wish  I  could  obliterate  the 
remembrance  of  the  nine  weeks  of  pain  and  suffer- 
ing which  brought  her  to  the  relentless  grave. 
But  these  seem  indissolubly  blended  with  her  now, 
and  add  much  to  my  suffering.  Much  as  sorrow 
claims  from  the  remembrance  and  sympathy  of 
friends,  I  can  truly  say  that  mine  have  more  than 
answered  my  expectation.  All  of  them  have  ex- 
pressed their  sense  of  our  loss,  and  remembered  our 
sorrow,  and  understood  its  magnitude.  But,  with 
all  that  reason,  religion  and  the  sympathy  of  friends 
can  suggest,  the  heart  will  bleed  for  a  time,  and  the 


ANNE  JEAN'S  CHARACTER  325 

shadow  of  the  past  will  hang  over  our  path,  obscur- 
ing our  views  of  the  future.  You  have  realized  how 
sad  it  is  to  think  that  one  of  our  best  earthly  treas- 
ures is  gone  from  us,  never  more  to  be  enjoyed  in 
this  world.  And  this  is  the  impression  strongest 
on  our  minds  for  a  time.  Reason  and  religion 
assure  us  that  the  Almighty  can  arrange  our  des- 
tiny much  better  for  us  than  we  can  for  ourselves  ; 
and  that  all  we  call  ours  is  but  a  loan  that,  when- 
ever called  for,  must  be  resigned  with  submission. 
May  I  prove  able  to  learn  this  hard  lesson;  and  at 
the  same  time  make  all  those  new  appropriations 
of  thoughts,  feelings,  interests,  and  affections, —  to 
say  nothing  of  time  and  companionship, —  which 
have  so  long  been  bestowed  upon  her  that  is  gone ! 
Few  can  know  what  Anne  Jean  was  to  me.  But 
it  ought  to  be,  and  is,  an  unspeakable  consolation, 
that  the  earliest  fruits  of  her  youth  were  given  to 
her  Heavenly  Father.  She  was  never  unmindful 
of  her  religious  duties,  and  tried  to  make  us  all 
better  than  we  are  ;  her  life  was  fraught  with  much 
instruction  to  others.  She  accustomed  my  children 
to  receive  strong  religious  impressions  from  many 
passing  events  that  otherwise  might  have  been  lost 
upon  them,  and  had  the  most  unlimited  influence 
over  them  ;  so  much  so,  that  I  never  knew  them 
on  any  occasion  to  fail  in  attention  to  her  requests, 
or  in  any  duty  which  she  had  prescribed  to  them. 
When  she  had  been  sick  about  a  fortnight,  the  chil- 
dren returned  from  Deertield.  She  often  called 
them  to  her,  and  reminded  them  of  little  deficien- 
cies ;  telling  them  that  life  was  made  up  of  trifles, 


326  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

the  aggregate  of  which  constituted  duty ;  and  from 
time  to  time  reminded  them  of  what  they  must  do 
to  be  acceptable  to  their  Heavenly  Father,  as  well 
as  what  they  must  do  to  be  agreeable  to  their 
parents  and  friends.  She  said,  if  there  was  any 
thing  good  in  her  she  was  indebted  to  me  for  it ; 
but  I  shall  always  think  she  was  more  indebted  to 
self-discipline  and  self-instruction  than  to  anybody 
living. 

She  had  had  and  promised  herself  much  pleasure 
in  continued  intercourse  with  you,  if  she  had  been 
destined  to  stay  on  earth.  She  was,  indeed,  a  holy 
child,  of  a  most  stainless  character  and  life.  I  don't 
know  that  I  have  anything  to  regret  about  her,  but 
the  burden  her  Heavenly  Father  saw  fit  to  lay  upon 
her,  all  of  which,  no  doubt,  tended  to  insure  "the 
peaceable  fruits  of  righteousness."  During  her 
long  sickness,  much  as  she  suffered  from  the  weari- 
ness of  being  unable  to  lie  down, — -  though  she  kept 
her  bed  nine  weeks, —  and  from  sleeplessness, —  for 
she  rarely  slept  two  hours  in  the  twenty-four, —  her 
mind  was  perfectly  unclouded  and  rational  ;  and  she 
always  had  prayers  and  the  Scriptures  read  to  her 
by  Susan  daily.  She  enjoyed  frequent  conversation 
with  Mr.  Stearns,  and  his  prayers ;  was  taken  into 
the  church,  and  had  the  Rite  administered  to  her  in 
her  room,  with  Susan  beside  her.  She  told  Mr. 
Stearns  he  must  not  expect  the  same  degree  of 
fervor  from  her  that  she  felt  when  she  had  posses- 
sion of  her  full  strength.  She  was  willing  always  to 
be  amused  by  reading  or  conversation,  when  her  suf- 
ferings were  not  too  great.     After  she  appeared  to  be 


IN  ANNE  JEAN'S  MEMORY  327 

struck  with  death,  the  day  before  she  died,  she  re- 
peated Mrs.  Hemans's  little  poem,  "Christ's  Agony 
in  the  Garden,"  which  will  give  you  a  good  idea  of 
her  reflections  ;  and  the  last  verse  of  the  "  Sun- 
beam," by  the  same  author.  I  try  hard  to  divert 
my  mind  from  the  sad  reflections  which  now  fill  it. 

I  did  not  tell  you  that  Sam's  dear  little  child  was 
buried  at  the  same  time  that  Anne  was,  from  our 
church,  and  in  the  same  grave ;  that  Mr.  Stearns 
took  the  occasion  to  make  an  impression  on  the 
young    people    by   an    appropriate    address,    which 

S has  copied  for  you,  and  it  shall  be  sent  by 

Mr.  Dana,  or  some  private  opportunity.  We  shall 
be  disappointed  if  we  do  not  see  Mr.  Dana  here. 

Give  my  love  to  all  my  nieces  and  nephews.  I  am 
much  obliged  to  them  for  their  letters.  I  shall  save 
them  and  yourself  some  of  Anne  Jean's  hair;  and, 
if  it  were  in  my  power,  I  would  have  you  all  pins  or 
rings  made. 

Many  think  to  do  justice  to  Anne  Jean's  character 
when  they  say,  "  she  was  very  serious,"  or  "  very 
melancholy."  But  it  was  not  so.  The  absence  of 
all  worldly  and  unholy  desires  left  her  at  peace  in 
her  own  mind,  and  enlarged  greatly  the  means  of 
intellectual  enjoyment.  She  had  uniform  cheerful- 
ness ;  and,  had  it  not  been  for  personal  suffering, 
might  be  represented  as  unusually  happy. 

A.  J.  Lyman. 

P.  S.  The  children  desire  their  love  to  yours. 
Poor  Joseph  writes  as  if  he  were  inconsolable  under 
his  great  affliction.     If  I  go  to  see  him  in  the  spring, 


328  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

I  shall  certainly  get  as  far  as  Cincinnati.  I  have  no 
school  for  my  children,  and  feel  the  importance  of 
devoting  much  time  to  them.  They  have  an  excel- 
lent French  teacher,  and  seem  to  be  improving 
very  fast  in  that,  as  well  as  in  household  accom- 
plishments, which  must  always  be  important  to  a 
woman  in  any  condition  of  life  in  this  country.  Tell 
Harriet  the  last  work  Anne  Jean  ever  did  was  to 
make  three  garments  for  her  grandmother,  which 
she  sent  her. 

To  her  Son,  Dec.  3,  1837. 

You  must  tell  us  how  you  enjoyed  Thanksgiving, 
and  if  you  have  read  the  "  Letters  from  Palmyra," 
which,  upon  a  second  reading,  I  think  one  of  the 
most  delightful  books  I  have  ever  seen.  There  you 
see  illustrated  the  dignity  and  interest  of  the  female 
character  in  its  true  light :  a  beautiful  representation 
of  agreeable  intercourse  between  young  people ;  a 
great  deal  of  well-sustained  conversation,  of  the  most 
intellectual  character,  and  well-calculated,  by  the 
refined  moral  sentiment  contained  therein,  to  im- 
prove and  raise  the  standard  of  morals  and  religion. 

I  am  disgusted  with  the  great  commendation 
given  to  the  "Pickwick  Papers."  I  think  it  might 
have  clone  to  publish  one  volume  of  such  stuff ;  but 
four  is  oppressive,  and  promotes  a  waste  of  time  that 
is  unpardonable,  to  say  nothing  of  furnishing  an  ad- 
ditional quantity  of  vulgarity  to  contemplate,  when 
there  is  already  a  superabundance  in  everybody's 
experience  of  every-day  life. 


CRITICISM  OF  NOVELS  329 

My  mother's  criticism  of  novels  often  surprised 
and  disappointed  me  ;  but  she  came  to  enjoy  heart- 
ily, in  her  later  years,  many  books  that  she  had  not 
earlier  appreciated.  She  was  slow  to  change  her 
early  and  accepted  standards  about  many  things : 
and  her  standard  of  novel-reading  had  been  formed 
in  those  early  days  of  Mrs.  Radcliffe  and  Richard- 
son, and  later,  of  Miss  Edgeworth.  For  her,  a  novel 
must  relate  either  to  that  high-toned  and  romantic 
cast  of  character  and  scenery  and  thrilling  incident 
that  removes  one  entirely  from  her  own  daily  atmos- 
phere ;  or  it  must  have  a  distinct  moral  purpose  un- 
derlying the  story,  as  in  Miss  Edgeworth,  and  faith- 
fully carried  out  to  the  end.  The  modern  novel 
with  its  natural  description  of  commonplace  people 
and  events,  its  paucity  of  incident,  its  artistic  deline- 
ation of  persons  and  scenery  and  surroundings,  its 
absence  of  all  distinct  moral  purpose,  except  that 
which  makes  itself  felt  in  all  truthful  portraiture  of 
a  mixed  society,  such  as  exists  everywhere  on  the 
earth, —  all  this  was  for  a  long  time  a  sealed  book  to 
her;  and  it  was  almost  funnier  to  hear  her  talk 
about  Dickens  than  to  read  him  ;  the  solemnity  with 
which  she  wondered  how  any  one  could  spend  hours 
reading  about  such  low  people,  when  nothing  on 
earth  would  induce  her  to  spend  half  an  hour  in 
their  company,  was  amusing  to  the  last  degree. 

She  used  to  be  as  much  moved  and  excited  over 
the  characters  in  novels  as  though  they  had  been 
real,  living  persons,  and  this  gave  an  indescribable 
charm  to  one's  reading  aloud  to  her.  I  recall  her 
getting  very  angry  with  Miss  Edgeworth's  "Helen," 


330  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

—  out  of  all  patience  with  her  for  not  telling  the 
whole  truth, —  till,  just  as  I  had  got  nearly  through 
the  second  volume,  she  suddenly  calmed  down,  a 
broad  smile  spread  itself  over  her  face,  and  she 
touched  my  arm  and  said,  as  if  the  idea  had  just 
come  to  her,  "  Well,  Susanna,  if  Helen  had  not  told 
or  acted  all  those  trumpery  lies  to  save  her  lying 
friend,  we  never  should  have  had  these  two  very  en- 
tertaining volumes." 

To  Mrs.  Greene  she  says  in  one  of  her  letters  :  — ■ 

"As  to  Miss  Martineau,  her  book  is  not  without  its 
good  and  pleasant  things  ;  but  it  is  full  of  mistakes, 
misrepresentations,  and  radicalism.  It  is  an  un- 
wieldy task  to  judge  of  every  thing,  and  it  is  a  want 
of  modesty  and  good  judgment  to  attempt  it ;  nor  is 
it  strange  she  should  fail.  But  I  would  have  ex- 
cused her  for  every  thing  but  her  slander  of  the 
women  of  our  country,  and  her  chapter  on  the 
'Rights  of  Women,'  in  no  part  of  which  do  I  sym- 
pathize with  her.  I  desire  no  increase  of  power  or 
responsibility.  I  have  more  than  I  can  give  a  good 
account  of  this  moment. 

"  Give  my  love  to  the  children  and  your  sisters.  I 
hope  you  will  be  able  to  read  this  hasty  scrawl.  In 
my  other  letter  I  have  said  everything  you  could  de- 
sire concerning  Mr.  Peabody  and  his  preaching. 

"Mrs.  Rogers  and  family  are  well.  They  have 
bought  the  house  they  live  in  of  Mr.  Hall,  fitted  it 
up,  and  seem  to  enjoy  it  a  great  deal.  They  have  a 
beautiful  baby,  called  Henry  Broomfield. 

"Mr.  Huntoon  was  much  beloved,  both  in  Milton 


ON  THE  PRACTICE  OF  ECONOMY  331 

and  Canton.  I  never  heard  aught  but  good  of  him, 
and  hope  your  people  are  disposed  to  feel  all  they 
should  for  him.  I  presume  he  would  not  have  left 
Milton  had  he  not  thought  the  western  country  a 
better  position  for  the  advancement  of  his  family. 

"November  10.  People  are  not  happier  or  better 
for  being  rich.  They  are  more  composed  and  tran- 
quil under  the  circumstances  indicated  by  Agar's 
prayer  as  good  for  all,  '  Give  me  neither  poverty 
nor  riches,'  &c.  May  you  always  realize  the  enjoy- 
ment which  that  state  brings,  and  reflect  with  pleas- 
ure on  the  good  you  were  enabled  to  do  to  others 
under  more  prosperous  circumstances.  I  have  al- 
ways lived  under  circumstances  requiring  close 
economy,  by  the  exercise  of  which  I  have  found  as 
much  satisfaction  as  I  have  observed  others  to  gain 
in  squandering  a.  great  deal,  because  they  happened 
to  have  the  means.  Now,  the  practice  of  economy 
lays  the  foundation  of  much  virtue  ;  for  it  accustoms 
one  to  self-sacrificing  habits,  which  leads  to  disinter- 
estedness in  every  variety  of  form.  And  we  ought 
to  be  grateful  tor  any  event  in  our  destiny  upon 
which  by  force  we  must  erect  a  virtue,  which  virtue 
will  prove  a  satisfaction  while  on  earth,  and  a  certain 
treasure  when  transferred  to  our  heavenly  abode. 

"  Mr.  Theodore  Sedgwick  died  on  the  7th.  Though 
a  bad  politician,  he  was  a  most  amiable  domestic 
character,  and  a  severe  loss  to  his  wife  and  daugh- 
ter, who  arc  now  in  Europe  with  Miss  Sedgwick  and 
Robert's  family-  They  will  pass  this  winter  in 
Rome,  unless  this  event  determines  them  to  return 
immediately.     My    cousin    Emma    Forbes    and    my 


332  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

sister  are  making  me  a  visit,  and  send  their  love  to 
you. 

"  If  Joseph  is  with  you  when  this  reaches  you,  he 
must  read  it.  I  hope  you  will  see  Mr.  Harding's 
daughter  Margaret,  who  is  travelling  with  her 
father,  for,  though  not  beautiful,  she  is  extremely 
lovely.  Mr.  Harding's  family  are  highly  creditable 
to  him, —  Ophelia  and  Margaret  and  William  in  par- 
ticular. Caroline  I  have  not  so  much  knowledge  of, 
and  the  others  are  quite  young. 

"  You  and  I  have  each  been  the  means  of  translat- 
ing a  being  of  earth  to  an  angel  in  heaven.  It 
ought  to  be  a  continual  incentive  to  us  to  make 
progress  in  the  course  which  shall  take  us  to  the 
same  abode." 

To  Dr.  Flint  she  writes  about  this  time  :  — 
"  A  voice  from  the  spirit-land  is  ever  in  my  ear, 
strengthening  the  conviction  of  what  I  have  lost, 
and  urging  me  to  consider  the  weight  and  magni- 
tude of  the  deprivation  I  have  sustained.  This, 
however,  does  not  prevent  me  from  estimating  the 
many  blessings  that  remain,  nor  of  cultivating  all 
those  resources  by  which  I  am  surrounded.  Heaven 
knows  the  greatest  motive  which  prompted  me  to 
desire  the  life  of  my  daughter  was,  that  she  might 
illustrate  by  her  example  the  beauty  of  virtue,  and 
show  how  indissolubly  holiness  was  connected  with 
human  happiness."     And  again  :  — 

May  6,  1838. 
My  dear  Austin, —  I  believe  I  told  you  that  a 
year   ago,  when    our  Mr.   Stearns  left  us,  his  place 


DEA  TH  OF  MRS.  BULFINCH  $$$ 

was  supplied  by  Mr.  S.  G.  Bulfinch,  one  of  the  most 
angelic  beings  that  I  ever  knew  in  that  profession. 
He  stayed,  together  with  his  young  wife,  many 
weeks  with  us.  She  has  recently  died  in  giving  birth 
to  her  first  child.  This  is  the  fourth  case  of  a  simi- 
lar kind  which  has  occurred  among  my  acquaint- 
ances since  your  little  A.  was  born,  and  I  mention  it 
that  A.  may  know  how  favored  she  has  been  among 
women ;  for,  common  as  it  is  for  children  to  be  born, 
so  it  is  very  common  for  mothers  to  lose  their  lives 
in  this  perilous  enterprise.  And  I  do  think  the 
gentlemen  of  your  profession  cannot  give  too  scru- 
pulous a  degree  of  attention  to  this  subject ;  for, 
while  the  world  remains,  this  must  continue  to  hap- 
pen, and  must  make  a  constant  demand  on  the  atten- 
tion of  the  profession. 

To  Miss  Forbes,  Oct.  23,  1S38. 

My  dear  Emma,—  I  am  ashamed  to  think  that 
six  weeks  if  not  more  have  passed  over  my  head 
without  my  having  acknowledged  your  heart-warm- 
ing favor.  I  will  not  pretend  to  give  you  all  the 
reasons  why  I  have  not;  you  must,  whenever  you 
can,  come  and  see.  Instead  of  two  persons  to  per- 
form all  the  social  and  domestic  duties  that  belong 
to  this  household,  there  is  now  but  one;  and  she 
has  been  from  May  until  the  last  two  months  a  poor, 
infirm  old  woman,  in  constitutional  habit  at  least 
eighty  years  old.  Hut  enough  of  that  ;  what  is,  can- 
not be  helped,  and  should  not  be  complained  of.  My 
lot  has  always  been  better,  far  better,  than  I  de- 
served ;  and  if    I  have  had  treasures   that   have   been 


334  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

withdrawn,  it  was  because  the  Bestower  of  all  good 
knew  I  had  more  than  my  portion,  and  far  more 
than  my  deserts.  .  .  . 

While  Mr.  Lyman  was  absent,  I  had  our  good 
Hannah  Stearns  to  stay  with  me.  She  is  about  the 
best  person  in  the  world, —  the  most  unvitiated  and 
stainless  ;  with  the  most  cultivation,  high  principle, 
and  sweet  temper.  There  is  no  way  I  could  obtain 
so  much  satisfaction,  if  I  could  afford  it,  as  to  give 
her  a  handsome  salary,  and  always  have  her  to  direct 
the  improvement  of  my  children.  She  is  as  good  as 
an  angel,  and  her  conversation  and  example  furnish 
a  better  means  of  instruction  than  the  best  of 
schools.  .  .  .  Your  affectionate 

Anne  Jean  Lyman. 

To  her  Son,  Dec.  5,  183S. 

...  I  am  very  glad  to  find,  by  the  letter  I  got 
from  you  last  night,  that  you  had  perfect  confidence 
in  your  own  strength  and  ability  to  answer  to  all 
the  requisitions  that  could  be  made  of  you  in  your 
capacity.  And  I  am  glad  you  have.  That  is  an 
unbecoming  diffidence  which  leads  people  to  dis- 
trust the  faculties  they  have  cultivated  and  exercised 
with  success,  as  many  years  as  you  have  your  mer- 
cantile capacity.  But  there  are  no  people  in  the 
world  placed  under  such  strong  temptation  to  do 
wrong  in  every  respect  as  travellers  are,  or  who  set 
so  loose  upon  the  restrictions  of  society  and  its 
institutions,  conventional  forms,  and  general  stand- 
ards of  rectitude.  Being  removed  as  they  are  from 
the    circle    of    observing   and   interested  friends,   to 


TEMPTATIONS  OF  TRAVELERS  335 

whom  they  feel  responsible,  it  is  not  strange  they 
should  more  readily  yield  to  every  passing  impulse, 
knowing  they  are  not  critically  observed  upon,  and 
have  no  one  to  please  but  themselves.  This,  then, 
calls  for  the  exercise  of  all  your  power  over  moral 
and  religious  sentiments  ;  and  your  real  enjoyment 
will  be  in  proportion  to  the  ascendency  they  have 
in  determining  your  course  of  conduct,  for  it  is  to 
those  sources  you  must  look  for  aid  to  sustain  the 
true  dignity  of  man.  No  one  can  be  contented  or 
happy  without  self-respect.  Whatever  honors  or 
flattery  he  may  receive  from  the  world, —  in  them 
he  will  find  no  substitute  for  the  want  of  it ;  and, 
possessed  of  it,  he  will  have  a  fountain  of  inward 
satisfaction  which  will  make  cither  of  them  appear 
mean  and  worthless  in  the  comparison. 

I  must  feel  sorry  that  this  tour  did  not  occur  one 
year  later,  for  you  know  you  and  I  were  really  to 
go  to  Niagara  next  summer,  and  Canada  ;  and  then 
you  could  have  carried  in  your  imagination  an  idea 
of  the  greatest  natural  curiosity  in  the  world,  as, 
surely,  that  mighty  cataract  may  be  considered. 
There  is  much  information  about  this  country,  that, 
when  you  are  absent  from  it,  and  comparing  another 
country  and  its  various  institutions  and  customs 
with  it,  you  will  feel  the  want  of  it.  But  you  must 
remember  liie  Las  just  begun  with  you,  and  that 
your  seed  time  is  not  over  ;  and,  in  proportion  as 
you  feel  the  want  of  knowledge,  you  will  be  assid- 
nous  to  learn.  I  am  very  sorry  1  had  not  Dc 
Tocqueville  to  give  you  to  read  on  the  passage  and 
Dr.  Humphrey's  "Tour."     De  Tocqueville  is  a  key 


336  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

with  which  to  unlock  a  vast  deal  of  information 
relative  to  America;  and  Humphrey's  "Tour"  a 
key  to  much  intelligent  observation  upon  whatever 
part  of  Great  Britain  you  may  be  in. 

If  you  will  go  and  see  our  cousins  Forbes,  in  New 
York,  they  would  carry  you  to  Cousin  George  W. 
Murray's,  with  whom  I  passed  nearly  a  year  just 
before  I  was  married ;  and  if  you  wished  he  would 
furnish  you  with  letters  to  the  Murray  family  in 
England,  in  case  you  were  in  London,  or  the  neigh- 
borhood where  they  live.  .  .  . 

You  will  have  my  constant  remembrance  and 
prayers  during  your  absence,  to  say  nothing  of  unre- 
mitted affection.  You  must  keep  some  small,  ruled 
books  in  your  pocket,  that  you  may  fill  them  with 
a  journal  during  your  absence  ;  not  forgetting  to 
mention  the  history  of  all  interesting  people,  and  all 
interesting  conversations  and  opinions.  Be  friendly 
and  accessible  to  worthy  people,  and  you  will  find 
them  so  to  you. 

Your  affectionate  Mother. 

Again  on  Christmas  day,  1838:  ...  "I  was  glad 
you  got  the  letters  and  books  before  you  left.  I 
think  they  must  have  been  an  entertainment  on  the 
passage.  I  had  another  book  I  have  just  finished, 
that  I  wish  I  had  given  you, —  '  Stevens's  Travels 
in  Egypt  and  Arabia  Petrrca,  and  the  Holy  Land  ; ' 
which  has  been  very  interesting  to  me,  from  the 
fact  that  it  mentions  every  place  spoken  of  in 
the  Old  and  New  Testaments,  with  quotations  of 
the    various    predictions    of    their   destiny,    by    the 


REFLECTIONS  ON  LIFE  AND  DEATH      337 

prophets  of  old.  I  have  thought  it  was  a  pity  you 
could  not  have  taken  (but  perhaps  you  did)  some 
letters  to  the  remnants  of  your  grandmother's  old 
Murray  family,  especially  Mr.  Charles  Murray,  who 
has  been  a  distinguished  lawyer  in  London." 

Again,  Jan.  20,  1839:  ...  "  S.  has  gone  to  where 
property  is  of  no  value,  but  where  the  great  and 
good  of  all  climes  and  all  ages,  the  friends,  bene- 
factors, deliverers,  ornaments  of  their  race, —  the 
patriarch,  prophet,  apostle,  and  martyr,  the  true 
heroes  of  public  and  still  more  of  private  life, —  have 
gone  ;  illustrating,  though  unrecorded  by  man,  '  the 
true  beauty  of  holiness,'  and  all  self-sacrificing 
virtue.  How  often  must  I  visit  in  imagination  that 
unknown  country  where  I  have  been  called  to  offer 
up  a  bright  ornament,  one  whose  countenance  shed 
light  upon  our  dwelling,  and  peace  and  strength 
through   our  hearts  ! 

"Air.  Brewer  has  heard  of  the  death  of  his  brother 
William,  which  is  an  unspeakably  great  affliction  to 
his  mother,  Elizabeth,  and  more  particularly  his  wife 
and  infant  child.  He  was  a  very  good  young  man, 
and  was  successfully  engaged  in  business,  but  has 
left  nothing.  When  we  hear  of  such  deaths,  we  can 
only  say,  '  there  they  are  gathered  together,  safe 
from  every  storm,  triumphant  over  evil,'  while  we 
remain  to  do  our  Father's  work  on  earth, —  and  let 
us  do  it.  Such  events  should  be  our  admonition, 
to  keep  our  hearts  with  all  diligence,  to  live  in 
a  state  of  preparation  for  what  may  take  place  early 
in  life,  and  at  all  events  must  in  the  course  of 
time.  .  .  . 


338  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

"Mr.  Barnard  is  new-furnishing  his  house,  and  is 
to  be  married  on  the  6th  of  next  month.  All  things 
in  connection  with  this  affair  look  bright  and  un- 
clouded. Marriage  may  be  accounted  amongst  the 
softening  influences  of  our  destiny, —  where  no  prin- 
ciple is  outraged  and  where  there  is  harmony  in  the 
characters  of  the  individuals  concerned.  It  seems 
to  have  been  the  plan  of  Divine  Wisdom  to  supply 
aliment  to  our  best  impulses  by  this  connection,  at 
the  same  time  that  it  provides  for  our  happiness. 
How  dark  would  be  the  gloom  of  this  valley  of 
tears,  were  it  not  brightened  by  the  sympathies 
of  kindred  feeling,  as  well  as  kindred  ties  ! " 

Again,  Feb.  12  :  ...  "I  think  I  mentioned  in  my 
last  letter  that  Marshall  Spring  was  almost  gone 
with  fever.  He  was  not  living  at  that  moment. 
Your  uncle  suffered  much  through  his  protracted 
illness,  which  was  nearly  six  weeks ;  he  is  dread- 
fully disappointed  and  afflicted  in  his  death.  But 
I  feel  that  Marshall  is  now  safe  from  the  storms 
that  await  our  earthly  abode ;  that  he  has  gone 
where  there  is  much  mercy  and  care  for  childhood 
and  youth,  and  where  there  is  every  provision  for 
the  improvement  of  the  young,  far  better  than  any 
we  can  enjoy  here ;  and  at  the  same  time  they  are 
removed  from  all  temptation.  .  .  . 

"  Flattery  is  an  incense  to  which  all  are  vulnerable, 
of  whatever  sex  or  age ;  and  where  there  is  an 
excess  of  it,  it  operates  like  a  slow  poison,  drying 
up  the  fountain  of  all  disinterested  affections." 

In  the  last  letter,  my  mother  speaks  with  praise 
of    Mr.    Clay's   powerful    speech    against    abolition. 


ATTITUDE   TOWARD  SLAVE-HOLDING      339 

She  was  not  an  abolitionist.  In  all  matters  of  re- 
form, and  that  especially,  my  Aunt  Howe  was  far 
ahead  of  her.  But  she  had  never  any  other  thought 
than  that  slavery  was  wrong ;  her  only  question  was 
about  the  method  of  getting  rid  of  it.  Her  associa- 
tion with  Southerners  had  been  with  that  higher 
class,  whose  characters  and  manners  were  after  her 
own  heart, —  gentle  and  humane  people,  who  were 
really  beloved  by  their  servants.  She  had  wept 
with  Hannah  Drayton  and  Mary  Wayne  over  the 
execution  of  a  noble  man,  one  of  their  favorite  ser- 
vants, who  had  led  an  insurrection  in  North  Caro- 
lina ;  but,  had  she  lived  in  the  full  vigor  of  her  fine 
powers  a  few  years  later,  she  must  have  seen  that 
the  good  slaveholder  whom  she  so  much  admired 
was  the  worst  enemy  to  the  extinction  of  the  ac- 
cursed system.  Her  heart  was  large  enough  to  feel 
for  both  oppressor  and  oppressed  ;  and,  could  she 
have  known  that  the  sorrows  of  both  were  ended, 
how  deeply  would  she  have  rejoiced !  She  never 
seemed  to  know  any  thing  about  prejudice  towards 
color.  In  her  childhood,  Betsey  Wallace,  the  last 
descendant  of  a  slave  family  in  Massachusetts,  had 
been  a  faithful  and  attached  domestic  on  Milton 
Hill,  and  she  always  spoke  with  warm  emotion  of 
the  delight  she  had  in  creeping  into  Betsey's  bed, 
and  being  hugged  to  her  faithful  bosom.  Later, 
when  Betsey  married  John  Drew,  another  character 
in  Milton,  she  delighted  to  visit  them,  and  talk  over 
the  annals  oi  Milton  Hill,  and  hear  their  old  stories. 
I  recall  a  time  in  Northampton,  when,  after  a 
long,  hot  summer  had  come   and   gone,   with    many 


34°  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

visitors  and  abundant  cares, —  the  stage-coach 
stopped,  and  an  ancient  colored  woman,  very  large 
and  of  no  comely  appearance,  alighted  at  our  door. 
"  Perhaps,"  she  said,  as  she  advanced  to  the  door, 
"you've  heerd  tell  of  Billah  ?  If  not,  Judge  Lyman 
will  know  who  I  am."  My  father  was  absent ;  but 
my  mother  had  "heerd  tell"  of  Billah,  and  made 
her  heartily  welcome.  In  the  old  slave-days  in 
Massachusetts,  Billah,  as  a  little  girl,  had  been  given 
to  my  Grandmother  Lyman.  But  the  days  of  eman- 
cipation for  all  had  come  before  she  grew  up ;  and 
she,  being  well  fitted  for  a  nurse,  had  lived  a  long 
and  useful  life,  greatly  esteemed  and  respected  in 
her  profession.  She  was  now  past  seventy  years  ; 
had  thought  she  should  like  to  see  what  sort  of  man 
the  Joseph  of  her  childhood  had  become,  and  so  she 
came.  My  father  came  home  next  day,  and  great 
was  their  pleasure  in  talking  over  their  early  days. 
She  remained  three  days,  having  one  of  the  best 
chambers  for  her  resting-place,  and  the  seat  of  honor, 
next  my  mother,  at  the  table.  When  she  had  gone, 
some  one  remarked,  that,  though  they  thought 
Billah  was  excellent  company,  they  should  think  it 
would  have  done  very  well  to  put  her  in  the  kitchen 
at  meal-time.  My  mother's  answer  was,  as  usual, 
simple  and  conclusive,  "  If  you  were  a  very  old 
woman,  and  had  taken  a  long  journey  to  see  the 
friends  of  your  childhood  in  whom  you  felt  an 
interest,  how  would  you  like  it,  when  meal-time 
came,  to  be  put  into  another  room  to  eat,  with  peo- 
ple whom  you  did  not  come  to  see,  and  in  whom  you 
felt  no  interest  ?  " 


EDWARD'S  ARRIVAL  IN  ENGLAND         341 

To  her  S071,  Feb.  27,  1839, 

We  have  just  received  your  third  letter,  addressed 
to  your  father,  and  truly  happy  does  it  make  us  to 
hear  from  you.  There  is  something  in  a  perfect 
state  of  satisfaction,  if  it  once  takes  possession  of  us 
(and  it  must  be  transient),  that  excludes  every  thing 
else,  every  other  feeling  and  every  other  interest; 
indeed,  it  is  as  exclusive  and  as  engrossing  as  the 
most  profound  grief.  And,  for  the  first  few  days 
after  I  heard  from  you,  I  was  given  up  to  this  most 
joyous  sentiment,  this  gladness  of  the  heart ;  and 
I  asked  for  no  diversion  from  it ;  I  felt  liberated 
from  a  hard  master,  like  one  who  had  been  in  bond- 
age and  is  released.  My  oppressors  were  Fear  and 
Anxiety  ;  for  there  had  been  much  said  of  the  dis- 
asters on  the  English  coast,  those  which  had 
occurred  before  your  arrival.  And  when  I  think 
of  those  which  have  occurred  since,  I  tremble  to 
think  what  a  narrow  escape  you  have  had.  Your 
first  letter  was  received  by  the  "Great  Western," 
instead  of  the  unfortunate  "  Pennsylvania,"  three 
days  subsequent  to  the  second.  This  is  the  fifth 
letter  I  have  written  you,  and  I  feel  sorry  that  they 
had  not  come  to  hand  before  the  "  Liverpool  "  left. 
But  such  poor  letters  never  get  lost.  'Tis  only  such 
letters  as  Charles  Sumner  writes  which  get  lost. 
By  the  way,  he  writes  that  lie  has  had  an  interview 
with  you.  This  \  was  pleased  to  hear.  It  must 
make  you  proud  of  your  countrymen  to  encounter 
such  men,  and  feel  yourself  identified  with  them  in 
some  measure.  You  might  have  told  us  who  the 
two  Bostonians  were.     Your  letters  were  all  directed 


342  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

as  you  desired,  and  sent  to  William  C.  Langley.  In 
future,  I  shall  number  my  letters  so  that  you  will 
know  if  you  lose  any. 

I  believe  my  second  letter  told  you  of  the  death 
of  Mrs.  S.  L.  Hinckley,  and  my  fourth  of  the  death 
of  Marshall  Spring,  and  the  birth  of  Mrs.  Cleve- 
land's daughter,  and  Mr.  Barnard's  marriage.  The 
latter  seems  to  have  been  the  means  of  a  great 
increase  of  happiness  in  Mr.  Barnard's  house  ;  and 
I  hear  in  various  ways  that  there  is  great  cheerful- 
ness and  hilarity  throughout  the  household  since 
the  coming  of  the  Lady  Eleanor. 

I  had  a  letter  from  Joseph  yesterday,  in  which 
he  says  he  has  given  up  having  any  thing  to  do  with 
the  railroad,  and  has  arranged  his  affairs  so  that 
he  can  come  here  and  pass  next  summer,  which  I 
shall  enjoy  very  much  ;  for  I  have  felt  very  much  cut 
off  from  enjoying  the  presence  of  my  children  ever 
since  I  parted  with  my  constant  companion,  my  dear 
Anne  Jean.  But  when  I  am  entirely  solitary,  she  is 
the  constant  companion  of  my  imagination  ;  and  it 
daily  moistens  my  eyes  with  tears  when  I  think 
what  she  would  say  to  the  various  things  happening 
around  us.  .  .  .  Susan  has  written  to  you  before  now, 
I  presume,  and  told  you  of  all  the  dissipation  she  has 
been  engaged  in  during  the  winter. 

To  Mrs.  Greene  she  wrote  July  15,  1839:  "Since 
you  left,  Susan  has  read  aloud  to  me  the  first  vol- 
ume of  Sparks's  '  Life  of  Washington,'  '  Undine,' 
• — what  nonsense  !  —  and  stories  connected  with  the 
times  of  Charles  II.,  which  are  nearly  as  absurd  as 


THE  REV/ARDS  OF  VIRTUE  343 

'Undine.'  In  the  intervals,  Mr.  Lyman  pegs  away 
upon  Dwight's  '  Life  of  Thomas  Jefferson,'  which, 
however,  I  am  quite  interested  in,  as  it  shows  the 
history  and  origin  of  the  Democratic  party." 

To  her  Son,  Feb.  10,  1S40. 

How  can  I  help  sitting  down  to  converse  with  you 
upon  the  recurrence  of  a  day  so  eventful  to  my  hap- 
piness as  that  of  your  birth !  We  can  look  but 
a  very  little  way  into  the  destiny  of  man  ;  and  yet 
there  are  some  immutable  truths  connected  with  it 
which  never  fail,  and  which  I  have  perfect  faith  in. 
I  am  sure  that  rectitude  always  gives  power,  and 
that  that  power  consolidates  and  helps  to  maintain 
virtue,  and  that  the  uniform  reward  of  active  virtue 
is  happiness,  contentment,  self-approbation.  These 
are  results  from  causes  which  I  do  feel  sure  of; 
they  are  within  our  own  control.  They  may  not 
protect  us  from  sickness,  misfortune,  or  death,  but 
will  leave  us  exempted  from  self-reproach,  and  pre- 
serve within  us  that  peace  of  mind  which  outward 
circumstances  cannot  impair. 

We  have  had  an  extremely  cold  winter,  but  it  is 
now  mild  and  comfortable.  We  have  had  two  feet 
of  snow  on  a  level  for  the  last  eight  weeks.  But 
our  house  (that  part  which  we  use)  lias  been  warm, 
and  we  have  had  nothing  to  complain  of.  Your 
father  remains  undisturbed  and  perfectly  tranquil 
by  the  fire-side  for  the  most  part  of  the  time.  Susan 
divides  the  time  between  "books  and  work  and 
healthful  play."  Miss  Bangs  is  now  making  her  a 
visit, —  a  young  lady  whom  she  went  to  school  with 


344  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

at  Mr.  Emerson's.  She  lives  in  Springfield ;  and, 
though  not  at  all  handsome,  is  agreeable  and  intelli- 
gent, and  we  all  like  her  much.  Catherine  is  doing 
very  well  with  Miss  Stearns,  and  we  have  reason  to 
think,  from  what  Miss  S.  writes,  that  she  is  rapidly 
improving.  I  intend  that  she  shall  remain  with 
Miss  Stearns  as  long  as  she  goes  to  any  school ; 
for  she  is  fond  of  Miss  S.  and  her  sister,  and  seems 
very  happy  with  them. 

Before  this  time,  you  have  received  newspapers 
giving  the  dreadful  account  of  the  loss  of  the 
steamer  "  Lexington,"  with  many  valuable  lives ; 
amongst  others  Dr.  Follen.  This  has  affected  the 
universal  sympathies  of  the  community. 

Your  affectionate  Mother. 

To  Mrs.  Greene,  Northampton,  March  10,  1840. 

My  dear  Abby, —  We  have  this  day  had  a  letter 
from  Edward,  written  the  day  following  that  in 
which  he  says  his  minority  is  at  an  end,  and  here- 
after he  is  the  only  responsible  person  for  his  own 
debts,  as  well  as  actions.  He  says  his  birthday  was 
distinguished  as  the  wedding-day  of  Queen  Victoria, 
and  the  pageantry  attending  the  occasion  was  very 
amusing  and  agreeable  to  all  in  the  neighborhood 
of  it.  I  do  not  know  what  the  poor  youth  is  to 
do  with  himself,  now  that  he  is  become  his  own 
master,  for  there  never  could  be  a  worse  time  to 
commence  business.  But  he  does  not  take  despond- 
ing  views  of  life,   and   we  ought  not  to.  .  .  . 

Perhaps  you  have  seen  in  the  Boston  papers  that 


SUSPECTED  OF  TRANSCENDENTALISM    345 

we  have  given  Mr.  J.  S.  Dwight,  of  Boston,  a  call 
to  settle  over  our  religious  society.  He  is  quite 
a  good  preacher,  but  under  the  censure  of  Tran- 
scendentalism, which,  as  I  cannot  find  out  exactly 
what  it  means,  does  not  disturb  me  very  much  ;  and 
Mr.  Stearns  said  I  was  a  good  deal  transcendental 
myself.  That  may  account  for  my  adaptation  to 
him,  or  rather  his  to  me.  If  people  make  the  Script- 
ures their  standard,  as  I  understand  it,  and  explain 
it  accordingly,  I  shall  not  quarrel  about  the  shades 
of  difference  that  are  only  perceptible  to  critics. 

I    believe   is  as  much  in  the  suds  with  his 

people  as  ever. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

What  is  so  excellent  as  strict  relations  of  amity,  when  they  spring 
from  this  deep  root  ?  The  sufficient  reply  to  the  sceptic,  who  doubts 
the  power  and  the  furniture  of  man,  is  in  the  possibility  of  that  joyful 
intercourse  with  persons,  which  makes  the  faith  and  practice  of  all 
reasonable  men.  I  know  nothing  which  life  has  to  offer  so  satisfying 
as  the  profound  good  understanding  which  can  subsist,  after  much 
exchange  of  good  offices,  between  two  virtuous  persons,  each  of 
whom  is  sure  of  himself  and  sure  of  his  friend. —  Emerson's  Essay 
on  Character. 

NOTHING  could  be  more  marked  in  my  mother's 
character  than  the  heartiness  of  her  relations 
to  all  around  her.  As  she  moved  about  her  house 
engaged  in  domestic  avocations,  or  sat  near  the 
window  or  front  door  with  her  work-basket,  she 
made  many  sudden  rushes  to  catch  the  eye  or  ear 
of  some  friend  passing.  The  day  did  not  have 
its  fill  for  her,  if  she  had  not  had  her  crack  with 
Judge  Huntington,  her  croon  with  Mrs.  Whitmarsh, 
her  hailing  of  Dr.  Flint  to  inquire  after  some  pa- 
tient, or  David  Lee  Child,  to  get  some  light  on  his- 
tory or  politics.  Then  she  would  subside  into  an 
absent  day-dream,  like  her  dear  father  before  her; 
smiles  flitted  over  her  fine  face  ;  half-formed  words 
rose  to  her  lips  ;  nods  of  welcome  or  recognition,  in 
imagination,  as  she  plied  her  needle  busily,  uncon- 
scious of  any  but  invisible  presences.     I  had  never 


HABIT  OF  DA  Y-DREAMING  347 

known  till  I  received  the  letter  from  my  cousin, 
Estes  Howe,  at  the  beginning  of  this  volume,  that 
our  grandfather  had  this  same  trick  of  absent- 
mindedness,  and  always  wondered  where  my  mother 
and  Aunt  Howe  got  it.  It  was  a  very  marked  trait 
in  both  of  them,  but  as  different  in  its  manifesta- 
tions as  their  characters  were  different. 

My  mother  had  a  special  delight  in  the  society  of 
Martha  Cochran,  one  of  those  rare  souls  who  im- 
press a  whole  village  with  a  sense  of  something 
heroic  and  unusual,  both  in  the  mind  and  character, 
—  and  yet 

"  A  creature  not  too  bright  or  good, 
For  human  nature's  daily  food." 

One  morning  Martha  passed  the  parlor  window, 
and  paused  as  usual  for  her  neighborly  chat.  Great 
was  her  surprise  and  amusement  to  find  that  it  was 
impossible  to  attract  Mrs.  Lyman's  attention ;  as, 
though  she  was  sweeping  as  usual  at  that  hour  in 
the  morning,  her  mind  was  far  distant,  and  the 
illumination  of  her  features  and  movement  of  her 
lips  proved  that  she  was  in  animated  conversation 
with  somebody.  "  It  seems  to  me,"  said  Martha, 
coming  close  to  the  window,  "that  we  are  having 
very  tine  times  with  some  one."  "Oh,  Martha,  is 
that  you?"  said  my  mother,  waking  with  a  start 
from  her  day-dream.  "  Well,  my  dear,  I  went  to 
Springfield  yesterday,  and  passed  the  day  with 
Betsey  Howard;  and  I  do  assure  you,  it  is  worth 
a  guinea  a  minute  to  see  Betsey."  Judging  from 
the  recollections  of  Mrs.  Howard's  daughters,  the 
conversation  of  the  friends  was  full  of  the  heartiest 


348  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

pleasure ;  although,  as  Sophia  writes  me,  to  try  and 
report  it,  is  like  uncorking  a  second  time  the  bottle 
of  champagne,  the  day  after  the  festival. 

At  Deerfield  lived  old  Dr.  Willard,  the  blind 
clergyman,  and  his  wife ;  life-time  friends  of  my 
mother,  who  had  known  them  in  Hingham  in  her 
youth.  The  fact  that  Dr.  Willard  was  one  of  the 
few  clergymen  of  the  liberal  faith  who  lived  within 
twenty  miles  of  Northampton,  for  many  years  before 
our  Unitarian  society  was  formed,  often  attracted 
my  father  and  mother  to  Deerfield  in  the  early 
days  of  their  married  life.  Dr.  Willard  was  a 
saintly  man,  who  bore  his  life  of  privation  and 
blindness  with  angelic  patience,  and  he  was  always 
an  honored  guest  at  our  house  as  long  as  he  lived. 
At  one  time  when  he  came  to  pass  a  week,  my 
mother  thought  to  add  to  the  circle  of  his  enjoy- 
ments by  going  with  him  to  Springfield  to  attend 
a  Unitarian  convention,  and  pass  two  days  with 
their  common  friend,  Mrs.  Howard.  The  visit  was 
a  charming  one ;  all  combined  to  fill  the  heart  of 
the  blind  man  with  pleasure.  Especially  the  fresh 
voices  of  the  little  Howards  charmed  his  ear,  and 
brought  visions  of  happy,  affectionate  childhood  to 
his  mental  vision.  Dr.  Willard  was  slow  in  his 
movements,  and  when,  the  evening  before  his  de- 
parture, he  announced  that  he  must  start  at  an 
early  hour  next  morning,  in  order  to  officiate  at 
a  christening  in  Deerfield,  where  he  had  promised 
to  be  present,  the  whole  family  felt  that  they  must 
aid  in  speeding  the  parting  guest.  When  the  early 
breakfast   was    over,    and    his    companion    and    the 


ON  SECOND  MARRIAGES  349 

stage  waiting,  Dr.  Willard,  moving  very  slowly, 
expressed  in  quaint  and  measured  terms  his  grati- 
tude for  the  hospitality  that  had  been  shown  to  him  ; 
and  then  said  to  Mrs.  Howard,  "The  tenure  of  life 
is  short ;  before  I  go,  I  should  like  to  kiss  every 
one  of  your  sweet  girls."  The  girls  all  hung  back, 
and  looked  about  as  if  to  take  flight.  Mrs.  Howard 
was  in  despair,  not  wishing  to  check  the  old  man's 
wishes  in  any  way.  But  my  mother  was  equal  to 
the  occasion  ;  seizing  a  hand  of  each  reluctant  child, 
she  placed  it  in  Dr.  Willard's,  then  inserted  her  own 
cheek  between  him  and  the  child,  bobbing  back  and 
forth,  and  saying  each  time,  "  This  is  Lucinda,  Dr. 
Willard;  this  is  Sophia;  this  is  Elizabeth;  this  is 
Mary ;  this  is  Sarah  ;  and  this  is  little  Emily.  Now 
you've  kissed  all  the  sweet  girls,  Dr.  Willard ; 
good-by."  And  she  hustled  him  off,  and  returned 
to  the  house  to  find  the  whole  family  exploding 
with  laughter. 

My  mother  and  Mrs.  Howard  were  both  second 
wives ;  and  Sophia  recalls  a  conversation  between 
them,  that  amused  her  very  much  on  this  account. 
Mrs.  Howard  was  relating  to  my  mother  the  fact 
that  some  friend  was  about  to  marry  his  third  wife, 
which  she  considered  a  great  enormity.  "Why, 
Betsey,"  said  my  mother  soothingly,  "if  a  man's 
house  burns  down,  should  he  not  build  it  up  again  ? 
It  isn't  in  the  nature  of  things  for  a  man  to  live 
without  a  home."  "Well,  Mrs.  Lyman,"  said  Mrs. 
Howard,  "when  a  man's  house  has  burned  down 
twice,  I  should  say  it  was  an  indication  of  Provi- 
dence that  he  had  better  give  up,  and  go  to  board." 


35°  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

Sophia  Howard  writes:  "It  would  be  impossible 
for  any  one  to  report  the  brilliant  sparkling  of  the 
conversation  of  those  two  women.  Young  as  we 
were,  we  enjoyed  listening  to  it  beyond  everything, 
and  could  appreciate  the  wit  and  humor  of  it.  Few 
ever  felt  your  mother's  tenderness  and  sympathy, 
as  my  mother  and  her  children  did.  I  well  remem- 
ber when  I  was  but  a  little  child,  only  nine  years 
old,  the  interest  she  took  in  my  having  my  eye 
operated  on  for  strabismus.  She  told  me  in  confi- 
dence, that,  if  I  would  have  it  done,  I  should  make 
a  visit  to  her,  in  Northampton.  I  think  that  first 
led  me  to  be  a  thorn  in  my  mother's  side,  till  the 
operation  was  performed.  I  shall  never  forget  that 
visit.  I  never  enjoyed  anything  so  much  in  my 
life.  C.  was  six  or  seven  years  older  than  I,  which 
at  that  time  seemed  an  immense  difference,  so  that 
I  was  almost  crazy  with  delight  to  be  treated  as 
a  companion  to  her.  I  went  to  a  sewing  society, 
and  I  could  not  possibly  have  as  much  pleasure  or 
pride  now  in  being  presented  at  the  Court  of  St. 
James,  as  I  had  then.  One  Sunday,  just  as  we 
were  getting  ready  for  church,  the  fire-bells  rang, 
and  C.  hinted  to  me  privately  that  we  would  slip  off 
to  the  fire,  which  we  did  instead  of  attending  the 
sanctuary.  Mr.  Child  was  at  your  house  to  dinner, 
and  I  remember  how  crushed  I  was,  when  your 
mother  satirically  introduced  us  to  him  as  the  '  fire 
worshippers.'  I  had  no  idea  that  the  stigma  would 
not  cling  to  me  for  life.  That  was  the  only  reproof 
we  received  for  what  was  then  considered  a  most 
improper  thing.     Even    in    those    days  a  good  deal 


MA R THA   COCHRAN'S  "  CARD"  351 

of  the  puritanical  observance  of  Sunday  was  pre- 
served ;  and,  at  that  time,  Mr.  Rufus  Ellis  was  preach- 
ing as  a  candidate  at  N.,  and  it  was  thought  even  the 
youngest  ought  to  rejoice  in  such  preaching." 

I  remember,  one  fine,  clear,  winter  day,  when  I 
had  been  out  with  my  mother  to  make  some  visits. 
Many  of  our  neighbors  had  flitted  to  Boston  for  a  few 
weeks  to  enjoy  lectures  and  concerts  and  other  city 
diversions.  Among  these,  Martha  Cochran  had 
been  absent  some  weeks,  and  was  not  expected 
home  for  another  month,  we  had  been  told.  Re- 
turning from  our  outing,  on  opening  the  parlor-door 
a  singular  sight  met  our  astonished  eyes.  Every 
article  of  furniture  had  been  transformed  by  some 
new  and  grotesque  combination,  and  the  hearth 
brush,  arrayed  in  Mrs.  Lyman's  best  cap  and  shawl, 
was  seated  in  a  rocking-chair  on  top  of  the  piano, 
assiduously  darning  a  stocking.  One  glance  round 
the  room  was  enough  for  my  mother,  and  then  she 
fell  all  in  a  heap  into  a  chair,  unable  to  speak  for 
some  moments  for  laughing.  "  Martha  Cochran," 
she  gasped  at  last,  swaying  to  and  fro  ;  "don't  tell 
me  she  has  not  got  home  from  Boston,  for  I  know 
better.  This  is  her  card."  And,  sure  enough,  this 
was  the  case. 

She  was  a  great  believer  in  the  Sewing  Circle, 
which  met  from  house  to  house,  to  sew  for  the  poor, 
and  which  accomplished  a  great  deal  in  the  winter 
time.  Our  sewing  circle  had  been  gathered  and  in- 
spired by  our  dear  Airs.  Hall,  our  first  minister's 
wife,  whose  name  and  memory  were  especially  dear 
to  our  church,  long  after  she  had  left  us.     Twenty 


352  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

years  after  she  had  gone,  during  a  period  of  dis- 
couagement  there  was  talk  of  disbanding  the  sew- 
ing society,  when  my  mother  rose  in  the  meeting, 
and  with  a  voice  full  of  tenderness,  and  eyes  that 
shone  through  tears,  she  said  only,  "  My  friends, 
this  sewing  society  was  formed  by  Mrs.  Hall  !  "  It 
was  enough ;  nobody  thought  of  giving  it  up  after 
that. 

"Don't  tell  me  any  thing  about  gossip,"  she 
would  say,  when  people  complained  of  sewing  circles, 
as  the  places  for  it.  "  Scandal  is  a  dreadful  thing, 
but  gossip  is  as  necessary  as  the  air  we  breathe  ;  the 
world  could  not  get  on  without  it  a  minute.  I  went 
to  the  sewing  society  the  other  day.  There  sat  in 
the  corner  Mrs.  S.  and  Mrs.  C.  It  did  not  seem  to 
me  they  said  a  great  deal ;  it  all  amounted  to  noth- 
ing. But  Mrs.  S.  told  Mrs.  C.  what  a  dreadful 
smoky  chimney  she  had,  and  how  her  eyes  were 
almost  out  of  her  head  in  consequence,  and  she 
could  not  work  any  buttonholes.  Mrs.  W.,  over- 
hearing the  conversation,  here  came  in  with  a  recipe 
for  the  smoking  chimney,  and  also  took  home  the 
buttonholes  to  finish.  Mrs.  B.  told  Mrs.  A.,  that 
she  expected  friends  from  Boston  next  week,  and 
Sally  Ann,  her  maid-of-all-works,  too  feeble  for  any 
thing,  and  she  all  tired  out  herself.  Mrs.  A.  crosses 
the  room  and  repeats  it  all  to  Mrs.  L.  Mrs.  L.  at 
once  proposes  that  her  Betsey  should  go  to  Mrs.  B.'s 
for  the  month  she  will  be  absent  at  Saratoga  ;  and 
so  that  difficulty  was  cleared  up.  And,"  said  my 
mother,  "  that  is  what  half  the  gossip  at  the  sewing 
circle  amounts  to,  and  I  think  it  amounts -to  bringing 


GOSSIP  NOT  SCANDAL  353 

about  as  many  good  results  as  some  other  things." 
When  she  herself  appeared,  a  bevy  of  young  girls 
were  excited  to  mirthfulness.  There  was  one  old 
lady,  of  very  quaint  manners  and  speech,  whom  the 
young  people  liked  to  have  drawn  out,  and  nobody 
could  do  it  but  Mrs.  Lyman.  "Oh,  there  she  comes," 
they  would  say  ;  "do  let  us  get  her  into  that  corner, 
where  Mrs.  A.  sits,  and  then  won't  there  be  fun?" 
And  fun  there  was  !  No  one  who  heard,  will  ever 
forget  those  talks. 

The  amount  of  plain  speaking  that  people  will 
bear  from  one  whose  good  will  is  perfect  is  always 
an  amazement  to  those  accustomed  to  circumlocu- 
tion. I  recall  the  things  I  have  heard  my  mother 
say  to  others,  which  at  the  time  astonished  me  from 
their  directness,  and  yet  I  know  they  rarely  gave 
offence ;  for  the  persons  thus  addressed  refer  to 
them  now  with  an  amount  of  pleasure  and  gratitude, 
that  is  unmistakable.  "  I  came  to  her  one  day,"  said 
a  friend,  "with  a  list  of  troubles  and  grievances,  for 
which  I  wanted  her  sympathy.  She  heard  me  very 
patiently,  but  when  I  was  all  through,  she  only  said, 
with  intensity,  '  Oh,  Mrs.  P.,  gild  your  lot  with  con- 
tentment ! '  I  saw  that  was  all  she  had  to  say,  so  I 
went  home  ;  but  you  may  depend,  I  did  not  forget 
it."  "M.,  can  you  tell  me  what  is  the  reason,"  she 
said  one  day  to  a  young  girl,  "that  when  your  family 
are  in  a  peck  of  trouble,  that  always  appears  to  be 
the  signal  for  you  to  abdicate?  Oh,  don't  do  it, 
child,  pray  don't !  The  next  time  the  family  coach 
gets  into  a  rut,  you  take  right  hold,  and  see  if  you 
can't  move  it  if  it's  only  an  inch." 


354  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

I  must  relate  here,  as  an  illustration  of  her  good- 
natured  plain  speaking,  a  little  scene  of  which  it  is 
hard  to  convey  the  intense  humor,  and  which  I  could 
not  now  print,  if  both  the  dear  friends  to  whom  it 
refers  had  not  gone  to  join  my  mother,  whom  they 
both  loved,  in  the  eternal  home. 

My  mother  had  the  greatest  affection  for  both 
David  Lee  Child,  and  his  wife,  the  gifted  Lydia 
Maria.  But  she  was  often  much  tried  with  the 
amount  of  time,  hard  labor,  and  money,  which  Mr. 
Child  expended  on  schemes  that  never  succeeded, 
and  with  his  going  from  one  failure  to  another  with 
undaunted  enthusiasm.  At  one  time,  it  was  the 
Morns  multicaiilis ;  at  another,  it  was  Beet  Sugar. 
For  years  he  toiled  upon  a  farm  that  was  a  worthless 
swamp  when  he  bought  it,  and,  as  my  mother  truly 
said,  he  made  a  hundred  blades  of  grass  grow  where 
one  grew  before.  But  at  an  awful  expense  of  bone 
and  sinew,  of  life  and  health  and  money  —  and  much 
anxiety  to  his  dear,  devoted  wife,  whom  he  loved  sin- 
cerely and  fully  believed  he  should  make  rich. 

One  day,  Mrs.  Child  came  in  to  spend  a  quiet 
afternoon  with  my  mother.  They  sat  with  their 
sewing  and  knitting  at  the  west  window.  It  was  a 
hot  afternoon.  No  sounds  disturbed  the  still  atmos- 
phere. My  friend  Mrs.  Griffiths  Morgan  and  I  sat  in 
the  hall  near  the  open  door.  There  had  been  a  long 
silence,  when  we  heard  my  mother  say,  "  Mrs.  Child, 
can  you  tell  me  what  is  the  last  thing  that  your  hus- 
band is  engaged  in  ?  "  An  amused  smile  played 
over  Mrs.  Child's  face.  "Yes!  Mrs.  Lyman,  he  is 
carting  stone  for  the  new  railroad."     "  O-o-h  !  "  said 


EXAMPLES  OF  PLAIN  SPEAKING  355 

my  mother.  Another  pause :  then,  "  Mrs.  Child, 
how  much  do  you  suppose  your  husband  loses  on 
every  load  of  stone  he  carts  to  the  railroad  ?  "  An- 
other amused  look  on  the  dear  Lydia  Maria's  face, 
and  she  answered  cheerily,  "  Well,  Mrs.  Lyman,  as 
nearly  as  I  can  compute  it,  he  must  lose  about  ten 
cents  on  every  load."  "Oh  —  well  —  now  —  Mrs. 
Child,"  said  my  mother,  in  the  bravest  and  most 
cheerful  tones,  "//"your  husband  has  got  hold  of  any 
innocent  occupation,  by  which  he  only  loses  ten  cents 
on  a  load,  for  Jicaveris  sake,  encourage  him  in  it/" 

I  turned  to  look  at  my  friend  Mrs.  Morgan,  but 
she  had  fled  up  stairs  to  hide  her  ringing  laughter. 

"Abdication  "  had  a  peculiar  meaning  on  her  lips, 
and  was  one  of  her  seven  deadly  sins,  as  "nerves" 
were  another.  She  had  little  patience  with  people 
who  backed  clown  in  emergencies,  and  considered 
it  her  bounden  duty  to  bear  her  testimony,  and 
stiffen  them  up  a  little.  She  never  had  to  go  far 
to  find  an  illustration  "to  point  her  moral  and  adorn 
her  tale."  Some  good  neighbor's  example  would 
instantly  come  to  mind.  "  Look  over  the  way  at 
my  neighbor  Hunt's  front  yard,"  she  would  say ; 
"see  that  splendid  hydrangea,  that  elegant  smoke- 
bush,  that  buckthorn  hedge,  all  in  the  most  perfect 
order,  and  all  kept  so  by  her  own  hands.  Always 
she  lias  sickness,  sorrow,  death  ;  at  every  turn, 
something  sad  and  unexpected.  i>ut  who  ever 
dreamed  of  Mrs.  Hunt's  abdicating?  She  couldn't 
do   it." 

She    went    to   see  a  young  and  worrying  mother 


356  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

one  day,  whose  health  was  delicate.  "  Oh,  A.,  now 
you  really  think,  my  dear,  that  you've  got  to  the 
'swellings  of  Jordan  ; '  but  you  are  greatly  mistaken. 
Mrs.  Cephas  Clapp  got  there  years  ago,  but  she 
wouldn't  stay.  Never' s  had  a  well  day  these  twenty 
years  and  more  ;  but  has  just  kept  round  and  done 
what  she  could,  and  kept  her  family  a-going.  Never 
once  thought  of  abdicating,  though  I  can't  see  why 
she  didn't.  Now  tell  me  is  there  really  any  way 
you  can  spend  your  youth  and  middle  life,  that  pays 
half  so  well  as  bearing  and  rearing  children  ? " 

And  yet,  though  she  would  sometimes  give 
strength,  where  sympathy  was  wanted, —  it  was  only 
where  her  clear  moral  insight  told  her  that  this  was 
best,  and  not  from  any  lack  of  sympathy.  Xo  need 
for  her  to  sing  as  she  did  every  Sunday  night, 

Oh,  give  me  tears  for  other's  woes," 

for  her  eyes  were  always  rivers  of  tears,  when  the 
real  sorrow  of  any  one  was  called  to  her  notice  ;  and 
at  the  same  time  that  she  could  exhort  a  young 
mother  not  to  believe  that  she  had  reached  "the 
swellings  of  Jordan,"  she  would  send  her  carriage 
to  take  her  out  for  an  afternoon's  drive,  and  bring 
home  the  children  to  entertain  while  she  had  gone. 
A  case  of  seduction  occurred  in  our  village,  and 
though  the  parties  were  afterwards  married,  and  led 
an  irreproachable  life  together,  yet  the  wife  always 
seemed  under  a  cloud,  a  patient,  but  very  sad 
woman.  My  mother  visited  her  frequently,  and 
often  took  me,  with  a  basket  of  flowers  or  fruit, 
when    she    went.     I    used   to  wonder    how  any  one 


ENERGETIC  COUNSELING  357 

who  had  such  a  pretty  baby  could  be  so  sad.  I 
recall  my  mother's  taking  the  child  on  her  lap,  and 
saying,  "  Why,  Z.,  what  a  splendid  head  this  child 
has  !  "  and  then  she  enumerated  his  phrenological 
developments,  and  prophesied  his  future.  No  smile 
on  the  face  of  baby's  mother  !  "  See  here,  Z.,"  said 
she,  "this  child  may  grow  up  to  be  an  honor  and 
a  blessing  to  the  community ;  but  not  unless  you 
do  your  whole  duty  by  him ;  and  you  can't  do  your 
whole  duty,  if  you  keep  in  this  low-spirited  frame 
of  mind."  The  beautiful  boy  died  at  four  years; 
and  by  the  coffin,  with  the  poor  mother's  hand  in 
hers,  no  one  wept  more  bitterly  than  she  did. 

She  was  called  in  by  a  young  friend  one  day,  to 
look  at  her  elegant  wedding  trousseau.  When  all 
had  been  shown,  she  turned  to  B.  and  said,  "  Well, 
B.,  whatever  else  you  do  don't  turn  into  a  clothes- 
horse,  my  dear.  Don't  you  know,  if  it  was  to  pur- 
chase your  salvation,  you  could  not  wear  more  than 
one  of  those  gowns  at  a  time  ?  " 

To  another,  she  said,  "  Oh,  I  see  what  you  are 
after.  Creature  comforts  !  those  are  what  engage 
your  attention.  Oh,  how  you  do  hate  to  eat  'humble 
pie;'  but  it's  good  for  you, —  you'll  tell  me  so  some 
day.'' 

"('.,  you  think  it  does  not  comport  with  your 
dignity,  to  take  such  a  step !  Well,  your  dignity 
isn't  worth  two  pins,  if  you  have  got  to  spend  your 
life  taking  care  of  it,  and  nursing  it  up.  If  it  can't 
take  care  of  itself,  it  might  as  well  die  a  natural 
death." 

She  was  a  woman  of  convictions,   and  this  made 


353  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

her  act  with  a  decision  and  certainty  that  could  not 
be  expected  always  to  fall  in  with  the  equally  cher- 
ished views  of  others.  One  day  she  had  had  a  little 
breeze  with  Judge  Huntington.  She  had  been 
warm  and  unreasonable,  and  that  had  perhaps  made 
him  cold  and  hard.  Next  day  she  was  sitting,  by 
the  door  sewing,  while  I  read  aloud  to  her, —  when 
Judge  H.'s  little  boy  came  up  the  step  and  handed 
her  a  small  basket  covered  with  green  leaves.  On 
opening  it,  we  found  it  contained  several  small 
green  melons  with  rough  rinds ;  and  underneath 
was  an  envelope  containing  a  beautiful  little  poem. 
I  have  looked  in  vain  among  her  papers  for  the 
verses,  which  she  kept  long  and  carefully  ;  but  they 
have  disappeared.  If  I  remember  rightly,  in  the 
first  verse  he  described  the  little  melon,  so  hard 
and  green  and  rough  outside,  so  luscious  within. 
Then  he  begged  his  old  friend  to  take  the  trouble 
to  pierce  that  hard  outside,  and  find  the  imprisoned 
sweetness.  And,  in  his  last  verse,  he  asked  her  to 
take  the  same  pains  to  get  at  a  heart  that  had  noth- 
ing in  it  but  grateful  affection  for  her,  however 
appearances  might  seem  to  the  contrary.  Her  eyes 
filled  with  tears  as  she  read  the  verses,  but  she  said 
nothing.  She  slowly  took  out  the  little  melons  and 
laid  them  in  a  dish,  then  went  to  the  closet  and 
brought  fruit-knives  and  plates  for  me  and  for  her- 
self. "  The  melons  are  good,"  she  said  reflectively, 
as  she  finished  eating  them;  "but  the  man's  heart 
who  sent  these  melons  is  good  as  gold!  " 

She  had  a  whole  world  of  pathos  and  tenderness 
\n    her    composition,  which  the  casual  visitor  knew 


JUDGING  BY  EX  TERN  A  LS  359 

nothing  of.  Usually  strong,  brave,  cheerful,  and 
full  of  life,  one  could  hardly  imagine,  who  did  not 
know  her  well,  how  gentle  and  tender  became  the 
tones  of  her  voice  when  deeply  moved.  And,  oh, 
the  warmth  of  those  enfolding  arms,  the  cordiality 
of  her  welcome  to  any  friend  from  whom  she  had 
been  parted  !  And,  if  in  conversation  with  others 
she  heard  any  discussion  of  character  that  dwelt  on 
externals,  and  did  not  enter  into  the  heights  and 
depths  of  the  being,  she  became  either  indignant  or 
pathetic  in  her  defence  of  the  absent  one,  and  some- 
times both.  I  recall  a  time  when  a  knot  of  young 
girls  were  talking  of  an  unfashionable  bonnet,  worn 
by  a  woman  of  genius.  My  mother  had  a  great  love 
and  admiration  for  the  friend  in  question ;  she  knew 
also  that  a  rigid  economy,  growing  out  of  the  high- 
est philanthropy,  and  no  want  of  taste,  was  the 
cause  of  the  objectionable  bonnet ;  and  she  was 
sorely  tried  by  the  playful,  but  not  ill-natured, 
raillery.  Coming  near  to  the  group  of  young  peo- 
ple, with  a  book  in  her  hand  and  with  tears  filling 
her  eyes,  she  read,  with  much  emotion,  a  fine  pas- 
sage from  "Philothea."  Every  face  was  turned  to 
hers  with  sympathetic  emotion.  "Girls,"  she  said, 
when  she  had  finished,  "  never  again  speak  of  what 
that  woman  wears  on  the  outside  of  her  head  ;  think 
only  of  what  she  carries  in  the  inside." 

I  think  nothing  was  quite  unbearable  to  her  in 
character  but  the  spirit  of  a  cynic.  To  that  she 
gave  no  quarter.  It  seemed  to  her  to  cover  the 
earth  with  a  pall,  and  shut  out  heaven  ;  it  was  a 
real  pestilence,  and  must  be  avoided  as  such  ;  and, 


360  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

in  selecting  homes  and  resting-places  and  influences 
for  her  children,  or  the  young  people  under  her 
charge,  she  was  more  careful  to  avoid  that  evil  than 
she  was  to  guard  them  against  any  other  mischance. 
She  was  a  genuine  optimist  in  regard  to  all  chil- 
dren. A  firm  believer  in  the  effects  of  race,  blood, 
and  family  inheritance,  no  modern  reader  of  Darwin 
or  Wallace  had  a  stronger  faith  in  reproduction  of 
types  and  alternate  generation  than  she  had ;  and  a 
large  charity,  growing  out  of  her  generous  philoso- 
phy of  life,  surrounded  all  the  young  she  came  in 
contact  with,  with  hopes  rather  than  fears.  "  I  am 
sure  those  children  will  grow  up  good,"  she  said  one 
day  to  some  very  troublesome  little  folks,  "  because 
their  father  and  mother  are  the  very  salt  of  the 
earth,  their  grandparents  are  excellent,  and  all 
their  uncles  and  aunts  were  superior."  "Well,  but, 
Mrs.   Lyman,"   said   her  hearer,   "you  were  just  as 

sure  the children  would  turn  out  well,  and  they 

did  not  have  good  parents  or  good  grandparents." 
"  Oh,  well,  my  dear,  when  you've  lived  as  long  as  I 
have,  you  will  see  that  bad  parents  and  grandparents 
are  very  apt  to  serve  as  a  learning  to  children ! 
And,  then,  who  knows  but  they  take  after  some 
good  ancestor  farther  back  ?  For  it  is  simply 
impossible  that  any  family  should  be  without  good 
ancestors  as  well  as  bad  ones,  if  they  can  only  go 
back  far  enough."  And  when  it  was  reported  to  her 
that  one  of  these  families,  of  whom  she  had  expected 
the  best  things,  had  actually  grown  up  very  dull 
people,  she  said  :  "  Now,  if  you  had  known  the  folks 
they   came   from,   you   would   never  be   discouraged. 


SACRIFICING  HOUSEHOLD  DETAILS        361 

Those  are  people  of  very  late  development.  None 
of  them  ever  comes  to  any  thing  till  they  are  past 
thirty ;  and  then  they  loom  up  splendidly,  and  carry 
all  before  them." 

And  was  there  no  offset  to  her  life  of  hospitality, 
her  generous  giving,  her  devotion  to  large  and  uni- 
versal interests  ?  Yes,  there  was  ;  and  we  shall  all 
judge  of  it  according  to  each  one's  natural  temper- 
ament and  proclivity.  It  is  scarcely  possible  to  be 
both  large  and  small  at  the  same  time ;  to  give  one's 
mind  to  details  at  the  same  time  that  one  compasses 
principles.  In  a  few  well-ordered  and  harmonious 
lives,  nothing  seems  too  great,  nothing  seems  too 
small,  for  doing  earnestly  and  well.  And  in  all 
family  life,  a  certain  attention  to  detail  is  important, 
to  insure  that  perfect  working  of  the  whole  machin- 
ery that  makes  it  move  with  ease  and  grace.  My 
mother's  life  seemed  made  up  of  emergency  and 
opportunity,  and  her  immense  physical  strength 
enabled  her  to  meet  both,  and  to  be  equal  to  them  ; 
to  carry  by  main  force  what  would  have  been  better 
accomplished  by  system  and  order.  But  she  never 
considered  herself  a  fine  housekeeper,  and  for  the 
most  exquisite  housekeeping  she  had  no  respect, 
considering  that  too  much  was  sacrificed  to  it.  She 
had,  however,  a  thorough  appreciation  for  a  style 
of  housekeeping  greatly  superior  to  her  own  ;  but 
not  being  able  to  accomplish  it,  along  with  the  other 
purposes  of  her  existence,  she  did  not  allow  herself 
to  be  made  unhappy  by  it.  It  would  not  be  well  for 
all  families  to  live  the  life  of  free  and  unrestricted 
hospitality  that    ours    did ;  but,    if   there   were   one 


362  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

such  family  life  in  every  village,  any  dereliction  in 
the  details  of  that  life  might  well  be  forgiven,  for  the 
large-hearted  influence  it  must  necessarily  exert. 

My  mother  was  frequently  behind-hand  in  her 
household  arrangements ;  and  it  recalls  to  me  now 
the  simplicity  of  forty  years  ago,  that  her  mistakes 
were  so  frequently  rectified  by  kind  neighbors  and 
friends.  Now,  when  guests  arrive  suddenly  and  un- 
expectedly,—  if  they  ever  do  such  things  nowadays, 
—  the  family  larder  can  easily  be  replenished  from 
provision-stores  and  restaurants ;  but  in  her  day 
that  was  not  possible.  If  a  person  had  neglected 
to  take  a  large  amount  of  provision  from  the 
butcher's  cart  in  his  morning  rounds,  or  to  make 
up  a  large  oven  full  of  various  breads  and  cakes  and 
pies,  there  was  no  way  later  in  the  day  to  supply 
the  deficiency, —  money  could  not  do  it,  but  love 
could  and  did  very  often.  That  state  of  society 
brought  about  a  very  frequent  interchange  of  kindly 
offices  in  a  neighborhood,  such  as  are  no  longer 
needed,  when  a  family  have  only  to  telegraph  to 
Boston  to  have  their  evening's  material  entertain- 
ment sent  up  in  four  hours. 

One  day,  my  father  brought  home  Judge  Shaw 
at  twelve  o'clock,  with  some  ladies,  to  dine  ;  our 
dinner  hour  being  one  o'clock.  My  mother  hastened 
out  of  the  parlor  after  cordially  receiving  her  guests, 
to  see  what  addition  could  be  made  to  her  every-day 
dinner.  A  half  hour  later,  my  brother  Sam's  little 
boy  came  bearing  a  large,  covered  kettle  of  mock- 
turtle  soup,  which  his  mother  had  sent,  having  heard 
accidentally  of  the  unexpected  company.     Now,  our 


PROVIDING  FOR  COMPANY  363 

sister  Almira  was  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  house- 
keepers ;  one  of  those  persons  who  bring  about 
wonderful  results  without  the  least  fuss  or  noise, 
who  was  always  ready  for  any  occasion,  whose  rec- 
ipes always  came  out  well,  and  who,  to  use  my 
mother's  expression,  "  knew  every  rope  in  the  ship." 
So  that  the  sight  of  a  kettle  of  sister  A.'s  soup 
roused  her  enthusiasm  to  the  highest  pitch  on  this 
occasion,  when  she  felt  her  own  delinquencies 
severely.  "  Don't  tell  me,"  said  she,  as  she  ladled 
up  the  thick  and  steaming  liquid,  with  the  golden 
balls  floating  in  it,  into  a  large  tureen,  "  don't  tell  me 
that  the  Chief  Justice  ever  ate  any  such  soup  as  this 
in  Boston.  Because  I  know  better.  There's  nobody 
but  your  sister  Almira  that  can  make  it!"  In  the 
same  manner,  she  was  one  day  relieved  of  another 
dilemma.  There  were,  certainly,  the  kindest  people 
in  Northampton,  then,  that  ever  lived.  It  had  been 
one  of  the  hottest  of  summer  days,  and  a  tea-party 
of  distinguished  strangers  were  expected  in  the  even- 
ing, but  there  was  such  a  succession  of  transient 
calls  of  various  importance  on  every  member  of  the 
family,  that  the  evening  drew  on,  and  our  prepara- 
tions for  the  supper  were  most  incomplete.  The 
dear  woman  encouraged  us  all,  that  we  should  see 
that  everything  would  come  out  right,  if  we  had 
only  faith  as  a  grain  of  mustard  seed;-  and  she  had 
hardly  said  the  word,  when,  looking  from  the  win- 
dow, one  friend  after  another  walked  in.  "  Didn't 
I  tell  you,  girls,"  called  out  my  mother  triumphantly. 
"Now,  see  here ;  here  is  Mrs.  Whitmarsh  has  sent 
me  an  elegant  basket  of  fruit  and  flowers ;  and  Mrs. 


364  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

Dikeman  such  rusk  as  nobody  can  make  but  she ; 
and,  as  true  as  you  live,  if  there  isn't  Mrs.  Hunt 
bringing  over  a  great  basket  of  Seckel  pears  !  Now, 
don't  tell  me  that  they  ever  have  any  better  things 
at  the  Boston  parties!"  She  frequently  informed 
us  that  she  did  not  think  the  Chief  Justice  or  Judge 
Wilde  ever  tasted  any  such  dinners  or  had  such 
suppers  at  Mr.  David  Sears's  house,  or  Harrison 
Gray  Otis's  ;  and  we  were  not  to  tell  her  they  had. 
This  we  considered  a  pleasing  fiction, —  only  another 
way  of  expressing  her  pleasure  at  our  efforts,  and 
the  kindness  of  neighbors.  It  was  a  part  of  that 
healthy  delight  she  took  in  every  thing.  On  the 
occasion  in  question,  she  called  out  jovially,  "And 
now,  girls,  let  us  all  go  to  i?£Y/-ford  shire  [that  meant 
we  were  all  to  lie  down  and  rest],  for  we  shall  sail 
before  the  wind."  And,  suiting  the  action  to  the 
word,  she  disappeared  within  the  library  door  with 
the  motion  of  a  ship  with  all  sails  set. 

One  day,  a  friend  came  in,  who  had  just  come 
from  a  visit  to  Mrs. ,  who  was  one  of  the  "ex- 
quisite housekeepers."  She  began  to  tell  my  mother 
about  the  perfect  condition  of  that  house  from  gar- 
ret to  cellar,  and  rang  the  changes  on  the  bright- 
ness of  the  brasses,  the  admirable  shine  of  the 
glass  and  silver,  the  entire  absence  of  dust  on  every 
carpet.  My  mother  stood  it  just  as  long  as  she 
could,  though  fidgeting  uneasily  in  her  chair.  Then 
she  exclaimed,  UI  think  Mrs.  is  the  dirtiest  per- 
son I  ever  saw  in  my  life!"  "Oh,  Mrs.  Lyman, 
what  can  you  mean?"  said  the  friend.  "What 
I  say  is  true,"  said  my  mother,  bringing  down  her 


ON  " EXQUISITE  HOUSEKEEPERS"         365 

hand  with  much  force  on  the  table.  "From  the 
rising  of  the  sun  to  the  going  down  of  the  same, 
that  woman's  mind  is  on  dirt.  She  thinks  dirt,  sees 
dirt,  is  fighting  dirt,  the  livelong  day.  Now  I  would 
much  rather  see  more  of  it  on  her  carpet,  and  less 
of  it  on  her  mind." 

I  recall  as  one  of  the  special  social  enjoyments 
of  my  father  and  mother,  the  coming  of  Baron 
Roenne  (the  Prussian  Minister  of  Foreign  Affairs) 
to  Northampton,  who  passed  the  greater  part  of 
two  years  there,  from  1838  to  1840.  He  was  a 
person  of  most  genial  temper  and  charming  conver- 
sational powers,  and  was  warmly  attached  to  my 
father.  In  a  letter  t)f  his  that  lies  beside  me,  writ- 
ten three  years  later  to  my  father,  he  says  :  "  My 
dear  Judge,  there  will  be  no  more  war."  His  hope 
must  have  given  him  that  certainty,  and  added  to 
my  father's  hopes. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

Mrs  Lyma,7i  to  Miss  C.  Rabbins,  Northampton,  Jul)  20,  1840. 

1WTY  dear  Catherine, —  .  .  .  Only  think  how 
*  *■  dreadful  it  is  ?  We  attended  the  funeral  of 
Mrs.  James  Fowler  last  Saturday  ;  a  more  touching 
grief  I  never  witnessed  than  her  husband  and  chil- 
dren manifested.  She  had  had  two  attacks  before 
the  last,  and  seemed  to  be  expecting  that  a  third 
would  take  her  off.  Her  husband  had  just  got  for 
her  a  beautiful  easy  carriage  and  fine  pair  of  horses ; 
and  the  day  before  the  attack  rode  forty  miles  with 
her ;  and  she  said  she  felt  so  well  that  day,  that  she 
was  encouraged  to  believe  she  would  recover.  She 
was  holding  a  most  animated  discussion  with 
Samuel  in  the  evening,  just  after  tea,  on  a  meta- 
physical subject,  which  had  interested  his  mind 
deeply  ;  and  her  part  in  it  he  is  able  to  write  down, 
together  with  many  excellent  opinions  she  enter- 
tained on  various  subjects  which  he  was  in  the 
habit  of  conversing  with  her  upon.  She  was  speech- 
less from  the  time  of  the  attack  ;  but  when  asked 
if  she  heard  them,  and  realized  what  was  going  on, 
she  moved  her  head  in  assent,  to  signify  that  she 
did  ;  and  lived  in  that  state  five  days.  The  two 
young  children  are  beautiful  specimens  of  a  tine 
education.     They    are    unlike    S.    in    being   graceful 


MRS.  FOWLER'S  CHARACTER  3^7 

and  handsome.  A  poor  little  dwarf  of  Dr.  At- 
water's,  whom  she  had  taken  great  interest  in  al- 
ways, and  supported  entirely,  she  had  taken  home 
the  last  year  of  her  life  ;  and,  whenever  she  was 
more  unwell  than  common,  she  commended  him  to 
the  watchful  care  and  tenderness  of  the  different 
members  of  the  family,  though  at  those  times  she 
never  mentioned  her  own  children.  She  had  never 
seemed  to  reflect  that  he  was  no  decoration  to  their 
beautiful  establishment,  but  was  always  saying  how 
good  he  was,  and  how  useful  his  example  was  to 
her  children.  There  certainly  is  something  in  this 
character  which  transcends  all  written  accounts  of 
human  nature.  An  entire  subjugation  of  self,  and 
of  all  pride  and  ambition,  to  the  interests  of  the 
unfortunate.  What  a  triumph  over  the  world,  its 
allurements  and  temptations,  was  here  exhibited ! 
Hers  was  a  piety  acted  out,  and  talked  but  little 
about.  Her  husband  seemed  to  consider  her  as  his 
privy  counsellor,  whose  judgment  he  could  not  live 
without,  as  well  as  the  best  object  of  his  affections. 
There  certainly  is  none  other  on  earth  to  fill  her 
place  to  him.  Mr.  Lyman  says  I  said  the  same 
about  Mrs.  Hall.  My  life  consists  of  contrasts,  you 
know.  Yesterday  morning,  Mr.  Lyman  informed 
me  that  he  had  invited  Judge  Betts  and  wife  and 
daughters  to  pass  the  evening,  together  with  Judge 
Dewey  and  Family  and  the  necessary  appendages, 
and  the  Henry  Rice  family,  and  the  Redwood  Fisher 
family  ;  they  made  a  part}'  of  over  fifty,  that  were 
entertained  here  last  evening.  All  but  me  ap- 
peared   to    have    a    very  entertaining  and  agreeable 


368  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

time ;  and  I  was  tired  to  death  before  they  came. 
Mrs.  Watson  and  her  cousins,  Judge  Mellen's 
daughters,  were  of  the  party.  Mrs.  Watson  is  very 
much  liked  here,  and  likes  living  here  better  than 
in  Cambridge,  as  do  her  children. 

I  was  sorry  I  could  not  write  to  Mrs.   Revere  by 

Mr.  Lincoln  and  D ;  but  Mrs.   E.   Williams  was 

making  me  a  visit  with  Mrs.  Brinley's  niece, —  Miss 
E.  Sumner, —  and  in  the  morning  I  had  a  great  deal 
to  do  to  get  away  and  get  all  my  company  off. 
Catherine  L.  is  decidedly  in  a  train  of  improvement, 
and  her  father  is  realizing  that  he  has  got  his  money's 
worth.  .  .  . 

Northampton,  Dec.  12,  1840. 

My  dear  Son, —  As  it  is  now  nearly  time  for 
another  packet  to  sail,  I  shall  put  myself  in  readiness 
to  answer  your  requisitions.  You  cannot  conceive 
with  what  pleasure  we  received  your  letter,  in  five 
weeks  from  the  time  you  sailed.  I  shall  never  cease 
to  think  it  the  occasion  of  the  greatest  gratitude 
whenever  a  dear  friend  has  achieved  sailing  across 
the  Atlantic  in  safety ;  but  my  last  letter  told  you 
all  about  that. 

We  got  through  Thanksgiving  as  usual, —  after  a 
great  struggle  on  my  part, —  with  fifteen  at  table, 
who  seemed  to  enjoy  themselves  highly, —  if  I  did 
not.  I  am  sure,  however,  that  I  have  much  to  re- 
joice in.  My  children  are  all  good  and  doing  well, 
and  I  have  an  unusual  portion  of  health,  as  well  as 
your  father,  and  an  unusual  exemption  from  imme- 
diate sorrow.  But  the  reflections  connected  with 
the  past  must  always  make  these  annual  festivals,  to 


ON  FAMILY  GA  THE  RINGS  369 

people  who  are  as  far  advanced  as  I  am,  to  be  days 
of  sad  retrospection.  They  are  way-marks  in  the 
journey  of  life,  and  are  calculated  to  make  deep  im- 
pressions, as  well  as  to  renew  old  ones.  Though  the 
seat  of  the  much-loved  be  vacant,  and  this  world 
contain  them  no  longer, —  when  the  family-circle  are 
gathered,  is  not  the  place  in  our  hearts  filled?  —  is 
not  the  image  there,  distinct,  clear,  undimmed  by 
time?  —  do  we  not  recall  the  spirit  in  all  its  purity, 
with  the  excellence  of  their  characters,  the  beauty 
of  their  example,  with  all  the  gladness  we  had  in 
their  presence  ?  If  it  serve  no  other  end  than  this, 
we  ought  to  rejoice;  it  connects  us  more  closely  to 
the  good  who  are  endued  with  Christian  faith  and 
Christian  hope.  And  we  must  not  repine  that  it 
calls  up  the  shadows  of  the  past,  if  at  the  same  time 
it  speaks  to  us  of  other  and  brighter  days.  If  the 
heart  yearns  for  its  departed  treasures,  let  it  re- 
joice that  it  was  rich  in  offerings  to  a  Heavenly 
Father.  .  .  . 

In  this  year  Mr.  John  S.  Dvvight  came  to  North- 
ampton to  preach,  and  he  remained  there  eighteen 
months.  A  short  ministry,  but  one  that  sowed 
good  seed  that  has  sprung  up  in  many  hearts,  and 
borne  fruit,  even  to  this  day.  My  mother  thought 
the  church  was  not  his  place,  and  she  was  right. 
She  would  not  have  had  him  settled,  but  she  was 
much  distressed  at  the  unsettling  of  one  for  whom 
she  had  a  profound  regard.  We  cannot  expect  the 
old  or  the  middle-aged  to  enjoy  seeing  their  portrait 
of  Christ  in  any  other  frame  than  the  one  they  have 


370  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

always  seen  it  in.  The  power  of  association  is 
strong,  and  cannot  but  hold  sway  over  us.  To  the 
young^  Mr.  Dwight's  ministry  was  of  incalculable 
benefit.  He  unsealed  our  eyes  to  behold  and 
realize  the  beauties  of  Nature  all  around  them, — 
a  vast  possession  for  every  soul,  of  which  they  now 
felt  they  had  before  been  strangely  ignorant.  He 
opened  to  them  the  whole  world  of  music,  a  name- 
less treasure.  He  brought  us  books  of  a  new  type, 
and  revealed  to  us,  that  not  Sunday  only,  but  every 
day,  was  "a  day  of  the  Lord;"  no  duty  so  mean, 
no  lot  so  poor  and  tame  and  commonplace,  that  it 
might  not  be  glorified  by  obedience  and  love. 

How  my  mother  enjoyed  the  books  he  brought, 
and  what  a  treat  it  was  to  read  aloud  to  her,  De 
Wette's  "Ethics,"  "Theodore,"  Jouffroy  and  Benja- 
min Constant !  I  can  see  her  now  as  she  would 
lean  forward  and  say,  "  Oh,  read  that  again ; "  and 
her  delight  at  certain  passages  in  Fichte's  "  Nature 
of  the  Scholar"  has  impressed  them  on  my  mind 
forever. 

Northampton,  Dec.  29,  1S40. 

My  dear  Son, —  I  am  afraid  you  will  be  tired 
of  hearing  from  us,  and  that  I  shall  have  a  letter, 
saying,  "  Do  not  write,  except  by  every  alternate 
packet."  I  was  truly  glad  to  get  your  letter  by  the 
"Acadia."  If  I  had  known  that  Mr.  Nevins  was 
going,  I  should  have  sent  some  pictures  of  American 
scenery  to  you  by  him,  as  well  as  letters  ;  but  it  was 
kept  a  profound  secret  from  me.  It  is  very  grateful 
to  me  to  hear  that  you  are  zee//,  and  particularly  to 
know  that  you  are  out  of  mischief,  which,  of  course, 


ON  WORK  AND  IDLENESS  371 

I  am  very  much  afraid  of.  I  do  not  feel  so  badly  to 
hear  of  you  crowded  with  business  as  some  might ; 
for  you  know  it  is  my  doctrine  that  occupation  is 
the  true  secret  of  human  happiness.  The  grand 
problem  of  life  with  every  one  is  "how  to  be  recon- 
ciled to  the  restlessness  of  our  nature,  or  how  to  get 
rid  of  it."  We  must  not  divest  ourselves  of  it,  but 
employ  it.  "  In  the  sweat  of  thy  brow  thou  shalt 
eat  bread"  was  the  decree  which  went  forth  from 
our  Heavenly  Father  at  the  commencement  of  the 
existence  of  man.  It  is  a  common  idea,  I  know, 
that  leisure  and  repose  bring  pleasure.  A  very  little 
experience  shows  how  untrue  is  the  fact.  We  all 
require  an  object,  a  motive,  something  to  exercise 
continually  the  restless  activity  within  us ;  and  I 
believe  those  the  happiest  on  earth  who  are  under 
a  pressure  of  business,  who  have  a  definite  duty 
to  perform.  He  who  has  nothing  to  do  is  under 
a  leaden  load  of  idleness.  When  was  a  man  of 
leisure  ever  happy,  until  he  had  coined  all  his 
leisure  into  good  works  ?  "  Rest !  there  is  no  such 
thing  as  rest.  One  may  throw  away  care,  and  fold 
his  arms.  But  time  will  not  rest  ;  the  earth  will 
not  rest  ;  the  Almighty  will  not  rest.  If  all  things 
around  us  are  in  motion,  what  boots  it  for  us  to  keep 
still  ?  It  were  truer  rest  for  us  to  move  in  harmony 
with  all  that  surrounds  us."  The  last  seven  lines 
was  what  I  can  remember  from  a  sermon  preached 
by  Mr.  Dwight  this  morning.  I  am  afraid  you  are 
not  so  privileged  with  preaching  in  England,  and 
that  those  golden  intervals  of  time,  the  Sabbath,  so 
precious  and  so  profitable,  both  for  rest  and  holy 
meditation,  are  not  so  well  appropriated  as  with  us. 


372  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

Your  letter  said  not  a  word  about  an  heiress  to 
the  throne.  The  newspapers,  however,  are  prolific 
on  that  subject. 

I  suppose  my  last  told  you  of  various  parties  we 
have  had.  Last  night  we  had  a  small  one  here, 
for  a  runaway  couple  from  New  Haven,  and  Presi- 
dent Allen's  family,  and  a  new  family  of  Robinsons 
from  New  Haven,  who  are  related  to  your  father,  — 
and  they  appear  to  be  good  and  interesting  people, 
from  the  little  I  have  seen  of  them.  President 
Allen's  eldest  daughter  —  a  very  uncommonly  inter- 
esting and  accomplished  and  well-looking  girl  —  has 
her  lover,  Mr.  Smith,  visiting  her  from  Maine.  He 
was  the  distinguishing  ornament  of  our  party.  He 
has  just  returned  from  a  two  years'  sojourn  in  Ger- 
many, and  is  now  professor  at  Bowdoin  College, 
Maine,  and  the  acting-president  of  the  institution. 
He  reminded  me  so  much  of  Charles  Emerson  that  I 
wanted  to  hear  him  talk  all  the  time,  and  thought 
I  would  have  given  anything  to  have  had  Joseph  by 
to  enjoy  him  as  I  did.  This  evening  we  are  to  have 
a  party  at  Mr.  Charles  P.  Huntington's  ;  after  that 
at  Mr.  Clark's  and  Mrs.  Cochran's.  Last  week  we 
were  at  Miss  Pomeroy's.  So  you  see  we  continue 
our  social  habits. 

To  Miss  C.  Robbins,  Northampton,  Feb.  27,  1S41. 

My  dear  Catherine,  — .  .  .  I  have  hardly  had 
sight  of  Mr.  Dwight  since  his  return.  Last  Sunday 
afternoon  he  requested  the  Sunday-school  teachers 
to  remain  after  meeting  ;  and  I,  being  one,  stopped 
with  the  others,  when  he  took  occasion  to  speak  of 


NATURE-WORSHIP  AND  THEOLOGY       373 

the  importance  of  having  a  class  of  teachers  taught 
by  some  one,  and  I  proposed  that  he  should  teach 
that  class  himself.  He  said  that  he  would  try  to  ; 
but  that  "he  had  never  paid  much  attention  to  the 
study  of  theology."  Now,  what  do  you  think  of 
such  a  declaration  as  that  from  your  minister  ?  He 
never  preached  better  (I  mean  more  practically)  in 
his  life  than  he  had  done  all  day,  from  the  text, 
"  If  thine  eye  be  single,  thy  whole  body  shall  be 
full  of  light ; "  and  no  one  could  better  set  forth  the 
beauty  of  perfect  simplicity  than  he  did,  or  the 
deformity  of  the  reverse.  But  when  he  said  this,  I 
wanted  to  shake  him.  Now,  I  believe  the  shepherd 
is  a  religious  man,  but  I  want  the  acknowledged 
sanction  of  revelation  of  all  religious  opinions.  I 
can  never  substitute  intuition  for  the  Word  of  God 
or  the  teachings  of  our  Saviour  ;  neither  can  I  sub- 
stitute feeling  for  doctrine,  nor  sentiment  for  wor- 
ship. Nature-worship  is  as  far  below  my  idea  of 
the  adoration  due  to  God  as  man-worship  or  child- 
worship,  or  that  of  any  of  God's  works  instead  of 
Himself  personally.  In  me  it  would  be  idolatry,  as 
much  as  worshipping  the  golden  calf  was,  or  any  of 
the  idols  of  the  heathen  nations.  Their  idols  repre- 
sented things  in  their  view  sacred.  Now,  I  consider 
all  the  works  of  the  Almighty  as  manifestations  of 
His  love  to  man,  and  that  they  should  be  reflected 
upon  with  pleasure  and  gratitude,  as  our  children 
and  other  privileges  are,  but  they  should  never  be 
considered  as  objects  of  worship.  Now,  you  per- 
ceive the  utter  impossibility  of  making  a  transcen- 
dental ist  of  me.      Nevertheless,  I  can  enjoy  all   that 


374  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

is  good  and  practical  in  their  faith,  and  have  not  a 
particle  of  ill-will  towards  them  or  their  writings. 

All  that  I  could  understand  in  the  last  "  Dial,"  I 
took  great  pleasure  in,  particularly  the  piece  on 
"  Woman,"  by  Mrs.  Ripley.  I  don't  know  how  we 
are  to  have  an  immutable  law  of  right  and  wrong, 
except  by  the  revealed  will  of  God.  We  are  told 
that  the  Gentiles,  not  having  the  law,  were  a  law 
unto  themselves  ;  and  from  this  we  argue  that  all 
have  a  guardian  angel  within,  in  the  form  of  con- 
science. But  the  proof  is  wanting  to  the  perfection 
of  our  decisions,  "except  the  Holy  Spirit  beareth 
witness  to  our  spirit,"  by  means  of  revelation. 

Now,  I  like  Mr.  Dwight's  morality  and  spiritual- 
ity ;  but  to  me  his  faith  is  a  problem  not  yet  solved, 
and  I  am  tired  of  trying  to  discover  what  it  is.  At 
the  same  time,  if  I  knew,  it  would  probably  have 
but  little  weight  on  mine  ;  for,  if  he  does  not  know 
any  thing  about  theology,  why,  then  we  are  on  a 
level.  .  .  . 

To  Mrs.  Greene  she  writes  again  Jan.  4,  1842: 
"  You  asked  me  concerning  Mr.  John  S.  Dwight's 
separation  from  our  society.  There  never  was  any 
good  reason  for  our  settling  him  ;  it  was  done  by  a 
few  arbitrary  members  assuming  all  the  influence, — 
and  done  in  great  haste.  In  one  year  those  very 
people  took  it  upon  themselves,  without  the  shadow 
of  a  reason,  to  drive  him  out  ;  which  they  did  by 
making  the  people  who  were  neutral  about  the  settle- 
ment positive  in  unsettling  him.     And and 

were  the  leaders  in  this  unholy  work ;  I  always  feel 


MR.  DWIGHT' S  TRANSCENDENTALISM    375 

ashamed  when  I  am  called  on  to  tell  the  truth  on 
this  subject.  Mr.  Dwight  announced  his  views, 
which  were  transcendental,  before  he  was  settled. 
Now,  there  were  really  none  amongst  us  entertaining 
those  views.  But  his  preaching  was  always  fine, 
because  he  always  selected  those  topics  on  which  all 
Christians  agree,  and  never  brought  up  disputed 
points.  I  could  have  listened  to  him  forever,  with- 
out doing  violence  to  my  faith  ;  for  his  sense  of  right 
and  wrong,  and  his  Christian  morals,  and  mine  were 
the  same.  But  his  views  of  Christ  were  essentially 
unlike  mine.  His  views  of  man's  responsibility  were 
as  elevated  as  Dr.  Channing's  were.  But  it  was  very 
wrong  in  us  to  settle  him  under  the  circumstances, 
and  wicked  in  us  to  thrust  him  out  as  we  did.  And 
S.'s  and  my  name  are  on  the  records  of  our  church, 
to  prove  that  we  opposed  it,  among  others.  And 
now  I  have  told  you  all  that  is  to  be  told.  Nobody 
could  allege  anything  against  Mr.  Dwight,  with 
truth,  except  that  he  was  a  transcendentalism  And 
that  they  knew  when  they  ordained  him." 

In  the  month  of  August,  1842,  occurred  one  of 
those  sudden  trials,  for  which  we  were  all  utterly 
unprepared,  and  which  alfected  no  one  more  deeply 
than  my  mother,  outside  the  little  circle  of  nearest 
relatives.  Our  brother,  Stephen  Brewer,  in  the  full 
vigor  of  manhood,  in  perfect  health,  with  every 
prospect  of  long  life  and  usefulness,  was  drowned 
in  the  Connecticut  River,  on  the  first  afternoon  he 
had  taken  for  pleasure,  for  many  years. 


376  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

To  Miss  H.  Steams,  Northampton,  Aug.  25,  1842. 

My  dear  Hannah, —  Before  I  met  with  an  over- 
whelming affliction,  I  had  determined  to  write  to 
you  the  first  time  I  took  my  pen.  I  was,  one  week 
since,  arrested  in  every  design  I  had  contemplated, 
by  the  sudden  and  awful  death  of  our  dear  Stephen 
Brewer,  an  account  of  which  you  must  have  seen 
in  the  papers.  O  Hannah,  I  can  never  tell  you  the 
anguish  of  our  hearts !  It  seemed  more,  in  our 
weakened  hold  upon  earth,  than  we  could  possibly 
bear;  but  Heaven  has  permitted  it,  and  we  must 
submit.  I  can  truly  say,  I  feel  prostrated  in  the 
presence  of  my  Heavenly  Father,  and  humbled  in 
the  sense  of  my  dependence  on  earthly  props.  But 
it  is  so ;  and,  instead  of  repining,  we  ought  cheer- 
fully to  say,  "Thy  will  be  done."  Instead  of  having 
his  strong  arm  and  strong  judgment  to  repose  on 
in  seasons  of  weakness  and  trouble,  we  must  soon 
learn  to  do  without  earthly  support  from  friends,  and 
think  only  of  Heavenly  aid.  And  this  is  probably 
the  discipline  we  require,   or  it  would  not  be  sent. 

Catherine  has  been  intending  to  write  to  your 
sister,  from  whom  she  was  much  gratified  to  receive 
a  letter ;  but  she  is  broken-hearted  and  sick. 

The  day  before  this  dreadful  event,  Susan  went 
with  Dr.  Robbins  to  Nahant.  The  warm  weather 
had  the  effect  to  debilitate  her  extremely,  and  we 
could  see  no  other  way  of  restoration. 

This,  my  dear  Hannah,  is  the  era  of  a  revolution 
in  my  destiny.  My  husband  may  live  some  time, — 
perhaps  years, —  but  we  can  no  longer  depend  on 
him    to    make    efforts    for  us.     And   I   have  always 


DBA  TH  OF  STEPHEN  BRE  WER  377 

known  that  Mr.  Brewer,  who  has  always  aided  me 
in  small  difficulties,  would  also  do  the  same  in  great 
ones.  I  never  connected  him  with  the  idea  of  death. 
His  whole  life  has  been  a  tissue  of  good  deeds. 
I  ought  not  to  think  of  myself  or  family,  when 
I  remember  what  a  helpless  wife  and  three  young 
children  he  has  left.  But  he  has  left  the  means 
of  a  support  for  them,  and  for  that  we  should  be 
grateful.  Still,  they  are  unhomed,  and  bowed  down 
with  sorrow.  He  was  followed  to  the  grave  by  hun- 
dreds who  depended  on  him  and  wept  for  him. 
Ever  your  affectionate  friend, 

A.  J.  Lyman. 

Northampton,  Aug.  30,  1S42. 
My  dear  Son, —  We  all  have  a  yearning  for  sym- 
pathy, or  we  should  not  be  so  eager  to  communicate 
sorrow.  How  I  wish  I  could  withhold  from  you  the 
deep,  the  heartfelt  grief  that  harrows  my  soul !  But 
before  this  reaches  you,  I  presume  you  will  have 
seen  in  the  New  York  papers  the  sudden  and  dread- 
ful death  of  our  dear  and  good  Brother  Brewer. 
I  need  not  tell  you  how  heart-rending  and  over- 
whelming this  event  was  ;  of  that  you  are  certain. 
No  family  ever  felt  stronger  love  and  confidence  for 
another  than  we  have  felt  for  this  excellent  man. 
1  fe  was  one  of  the  most  whole-souled,  true-hearted, 
practically  wise  men  I  ever  knew, —  the  best  hus- 
band, lather,  son,  and  friend  ;  and  when  we  see  one 
of  our  best  friends,  one  so  loved  and  so  trusted, 
in  the  lull  vigor  of  manhood,  destroyed  by  one 
sudden  blow,   Nature  revolts  ;  and,  before  reflection 


373  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

or  discretion  can  take  her  place  in  our  minds,  we 
feel  crushed  and  overwhelmed.  This  has  literally 
been  our  case. 

Mr.  Brewer  I  looked  upon  as  my  tower  of 
strength,  my  city  of  refuge,  my  shield  of  defence  for 
worldly  purposes,  knowing  as  I  did  that  I  must  live 
separated  from  my  sons  ;  and  I  had  to  feel,  that,  in 
the  probable  event  of  a  separation  from  your  father 
by  death,  that  I  should  need  this  dear  friend  to  lean 
upon  in  time  of  trouble.  He  loved  my  children,  and 
they  reciprocated  that  love  with  all  their  heart. 
But  I  need  not  say  that  he  loved  and  was  kind  to  us. 
His  heart  was  an  inexhaustible  fountain  of  love  and 
mercy.  To  diffuse  it  seemed  to  be  his  errand  on 
earth,  and  most  faithfully  was  it  performed.  It  is, 
indeed,  a  new  era  in  my  destiny,  marked  by  trouble. 

To  Mrs.  Greene,  Northampton,  March  7,  1S43. 

Catherine  returned  to  us  about  Christmas,  in  fine 
health  and  a  large  fund  of  happy  spirits.  She  and 
Susan  devote  the  whole  of  the  afternoon  to  reading 
and  walking.  The  mornings  are  occupied  by  some 
music  and  a  great  deal  of  domestic  employment,  sew- 
ing, &c.  They  have  enjoyed  reading  Bancroft's 
"  History,"  Prescott's  "  Ferdinand  and  Isabella," 
Degerando  on  "Self-education,"  and  some  poetry; 
together  with  Madame  de  Stael's  "  Germany,"  in 
French  ;  with  a  good  deal  of  casual  reading,  such  as 
Mr.  W.  Ware's  "Julian,"  Jouffroy's  "Philosophi- 
cal Essays,"  "The  History  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers," 
&c.  You  must  know  I  have  wound  up  the  winter 
with   being   sick   the   last    fortnight   with    a    sort    of 


REGARDING  CHARLES  DICKENS  379 

lung-fever,  which  confined  me  to  my  room,  and 
much  of  the  time  to  my  bed.  I  am  now  recovering, 
and  went  to  meeting  yesterday,  for  the  first  time  in 
three  weeks.  We  have  a  very  amiable,  good  young 
man  preaching  for  us,  and  a  man  of  respectable 
talents  :  though  there  is  not  much  poetry  in  him.  I 
think,  however,  he  will  wear  well.  His  time  with  us 
is  almost  at  an  end.  This  young  man  —  Mr.  Rufus 
Ellis  —  is  thinking  of  making  a  tour  to  the  western 
country ;  and  if  he  goes  to  Cincinnati,  I  shall  write 
to  you  by  him. 

I  don't  know  but  Mrs.  S.  thought  it  strange  I  did 
not  take  more  pains  to  see  her  while  I  was  in 
Boston ;  but  the  fact  was,  the  last  week  of  my 
being  there  —  which  was  the  only  one  of  my  know- 
ing of  her  being  in  the  city  —  it  rained  every  day 
but  one ;  and  the  week  had  commenced  with  the 
most  dreadful  gale  that  was  ever  experienced  on 
our  coast ;  and  it  commenced  the  very  day  my 
Edward  sailed,  so  that  there  was  scarcely  a  hope 
that  the  steamer  he  was  in  could  ride  out  the  gale. 
And  the  anxiety  of  my  mind  was  such  that  I  could 
do  nothing  about  making  calls,  though  I  made  an 
effort  to  go  out  two  evenings  on  purpose  to  meet 
herself  and  Mrs.  .  .  .  . 

J.  was  prevented  from  going  to  the  Dickens  din- 
ner by  S.'s  indisposition,  together,  perhaps,  with 
some  indifference  to  him  ;  for  he  was  invited  to 
several  private  parties  to  meet  him,  and  did  not 
go.  Dickens  says  lie  likes  Susan  Millard  better 
than  any  American  lady  he  has  met  with.  I  think 
as  you  do ;  there  was  great  want  of  proper  dignity 


380  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

in  those  ladies  smuggling  themselves  into  situations 
which  did  not  legitimately  belong  to  them,  for  the 
sake  of  seeing  Dickens.  I  have  no  particular  feel- 
ing for  the  man,  though  I  think  there  is  a  small 
portion  of  his  works  which  may  have  a  good  moral 
influence  on  society  ;  and  that  they  contain  a  well- 
directed  satire  on  many  abuses  in  England,  which 
in  no  respect  touch  this  country.  But  I  would  not 
again  wade  through  such  quantities  of  mud  and 
mire  for  such  small  grains  of  gold-dust  as  are  inter- 
spersed through  them,  with  the  exception  of  "  Oliver 
Twist"  and  "Humphrey's  Clock"  and  parts  of 
"Nicholas  Nickleby." 

I  think  the  enthusiasm  for  Dickens  here  was 
altogether  disproportionate  to  the  occasion.  But 
our  people  are  given  to  hero-worship,  and  there  is 
no  help  for  it. 

I  am  sure  I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  comfort 
I  have  had,  in  having  my  two  daughters  at  home 
this  winter  ;  and  so  has  your  uncle.  .  .  . 

June  ii,  1843. 

We  have  read  the  Bremer  books  as  they  came 
out,  and  have  been  greatly  interested  in  them.  I 
think  "Home"  is  as  good  as  the  "Neighbors."  If 
they  are  not  great,  they  are  calculated  to  do  much 
more  good  than  that  class  of  Tales  usually  are,  for 
they  are  attractive  without  the  exaggeration  and 
discrepancies  which  do  so  much  to  create  false 
tastes  and  false  views  of  life  in  the  inexperienced, — 
the  effect  of  which  is  discontent  and  disappoint- 
ment in  the  ordinary  occurrences  people  must  meet 


MISS  BREMER'S  NOVELS  381 

with  in  this  world.  These  books,  too,  are  addressed 
to  the  sympathies  of  a  large  class  of  readers  in  differ- 
ent stations  in  life,  for  there  is  nothing  in  them 
which  we  may  not  connect  either  with  the  highest 
or  the  most  moderate  class  of  the  community  in 
which  we  live ;  and  one  would  not  be  led  by  them 
to  false  inferences  or  unjust  conclusions  in  respect 
to  things  which  really  exist,  and  come  under  our 
own  observation. 

I  often  esteem  myself  fortunate  that  my  destiny 
fell  in  that  walk  of  life  which  prevented  isolation 
and  exclusion.  Indeed,  it  has  thrown  me  in  con- 
tinual contact  with  all  the  sorts  and  kinds  of  beings 
which  constitute  humanity ;  and  what  most  people 
deprecate  I  feel  that  I  may  rejoice  in,  for  I  never 
feel  out  of  place  either  with  the  highest,  more 
moderate,  or  the  lowest  society.  In  neither  case 
is  my  dignity  raised  or  impaired. 

Milton  Hill,  Aug.  15,  [1S43]. 

My  dear  Son, —  I  will  not  allow  the  steamer  of 
the  10th  to  leave  without  taking  some  faint  record  of 
my  existence,  as  well  as  of  my  love. 

Your  Aunt  Howe  and  Sarah  have  been  making 
me  a  visit  ;  and,  last  Saturday,  August  12,  we  all 
came  down  to  Boston  together,  joined  by  your 
sister  Catherine,  who  had  a  singular  errand  down, 
which  was  no  less  than  to  bid  a  temporary  adieu  to 
a  lover,  who  is  to  sail  in  the  steamer  for  England. 

[After  describing  Catherine's  engagement  with 
Mr.  Warren  Delano  and  their  satisfaction  with  it,  she 
goes  on  to  say  :  —  ] 


382  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

Without  distinguished  greatness,  Catherine  is 
very  lovely  in  her  character  and  disposition,  never 
out  of  temper,  and  always  ready  to  oblige  to  any 
extent  that  her  friends  can  claim ;  always  sympa- 
thizing in  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  those  around; 
divested  of  every  thing  like  jealousy,  or  the  shadow 
of  malignity,  in  any  of  its  forms ;  possessed  of 
a  large  humanity  in  its  truest  sense ;  and  having 
that  mercy  which  is  twice  blessed, —  to  him  who 
gives  and  him  who  takes. 

I  suppose  you  have  not  much  time  to  read.  I 
hope  I  shall  be  able  to  send  you  another  of  the  Bre- 
mer books,  "  Strife  and  Peace." 

Northampton,  Oct.  13,  1843. 

My  dear  Son,  —  It  caused  us  the  deepest  disap- 
pointment that,  through  accident,  we  could  not  get 
a  letter  down  to  Boston  in  season  to  go  by  the 
steamer   of   the    first    of   this    month. 

I  can  hardly  express  to  you  my  joy  that  you  have 
found  in  Mr.  Delano  a  friend  that  pleases  you  so 
much.  We  have  from  the  first  been  delighted  with 
him.  He  has  such  a  composed  and  dignified  air 
for  a  man  of  business,  and  such  a  quiet,  sensible 
mode  of  expressing  his  rational  opinions,  that  his 
external  man  has  always  been  extremely  attractive 
to  me ;  and  then  his  warm-hearted  promptings  of 
every  sort  of  kindness  to  every  one  he  comes  in 
contact  with,  where  friendship  is  admissible,  so 
necessarily  prompts  one  to  a  reciprocation  of  the 
feeling  he  has  expressed,  that  there  can  be  nothing 
but   pleasure   in   his   society.     And,    though    he   is 


THE  OLD  ORDER  CHANGETH  383 

unlike  our  dear  Stephen  Brewer,  I  feel  that  I  can 
most  readily  appropriate  to  him  that  place  in  my 
heart  which  was  so  warmly  devoted  to  our  lost 
son-in-law,  whose  affectionate  attentions  and  many 
kindnesses  will  never  be  forgotten  by  me.  I  believe 
all  our  friends  are  as  much  pleased  with  Mr.  Delano 
as  we  are,  and  in  addition  to  liking  him,  it  is  most 
pleasant  to  be  able  to  like  all  his  brothers  and 
sisters.  .  .  . 

In  October  of  1843,  my  mother  parted  with  her 
youngest  child,  Catherine  Robbins,  who  accom- 
panied her  husband  to  China,  within  a  month  after 
her  marriage. 

I  cannot  help  recalling  here  that,  within  a  few 
weeks  after  our  return  to  Northampton,  after  part- 
ing with  "the  lamb  of  our  flock,"  the  first  sounds 
reached  us  of  the  coming  of  the  railroad  to  North- 
ampton. Every  morning  we  were  wakened  at  five 
o'clock  with  the  sound  of  the  tramping  of  horses 
through  the  Main  Street,  that  carried  the  parties 
of  workmen  on  the  road.  Vaguely  we  prophesied 
the  changes  that  would  come  to  our  village,  and 
talked  together  when  we  met,  of  the  possibilities 
of  the  future.  I  remember  a  beautiful,  moonlight 
evening,  when  we  walked  in  the  rural  street  that  is 
now  so  changed,  and  talked  neither  wisely  nor  too 
well  of  the  future  of  our  town.  Mr.  Ellis  and 
Gertrude  and  Caroline  Clapp  were  of  the  number. 
I  forget  the  others.  It  never  seemed  to  occur  to 
any  of  us  that  we,  our  homes,  our  old  trees,  our 
society, —  were  not  eternal    fixtures  there;   and   we 


384  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

spoke  of  the  probable  new-comers  as  forming  a 
society  of  their  own,  while  we  remained  as  we  were, 
happy  and  undisturbed  in  our  old  customs  and  rural 
habits. 

The  homes  and  trees  have  disappeared ;  and  of 
all  that  little  group  none  are  dwellers  by  those 
mountains  ;  but,  though  most  of  them  are  plying 
"their  daily  task  with  busier  feet"  in  the  dusty 
streets  of  far-off  cities,  is  not  the  bond  of  good- 
fellowship  between  them  the  stronger,  and  do  they 
not  "a  holier  strain  repeat,"  for  having  passed 
their  youth  in  sight  of  these  mountains,  and  in  the 
society  of  the  nobler  types  of  character  that  lived, 
in  those  simple  times  ?  Let  us  not  look  back  and 
say  that  those  days  were  better  than  these.  Let 
us  rather  rejoice  that,  where  hundreds  once  enjoyed 
that  beautiful  valley,  it  is  now  a  blessing  to  thou- 
sands ;  and  that,  though  Nature  has  often  been 
defaced  by  Art  since  that  happy  time,  the  moun- 
tains still  stand  firm,  and  also  the  memories  of 
those  high-toned  men  and  women  who  fixed  an  early 
impress  on  all  around  them. 

To  Miss  Haniiah  Stearns,  Northampton,  April  28,  1844. 

My  dear  Hannah, —  I  cannot,  by  any  effort  I  am 
capable  of,  express  to  you  adequately  how  much  I 
have  felt  for  you  since  I  have  heard  of  your  great 

affliction.     I  had,  when  M 's  marriage  occurred, 

thought  much  of  the  promise  you  had  before  you  of 
increased  enjoyment.  I  never  dreamed  that  the 
interposition  of  death  could  oppose  an  obstacle  to 
your  anticipations.     I  have  heard  nothing  but  the 


TRIBUTE  TO  MISS  STEARNS  385 

fact,  and  feel  very  desirous  to  know  all  that  relates 
to  it.  The  death  of  your  sister  is  among  the  deepest 
mysteries  of  Divine  Providence ;  and  were  it  not  for 
the  faith  which  instructs  us  that  infinite  love  and  in- 
finite wisdom  overrules  the  events  of  our  destinies 
here,  we  might,  in  our  short-sightedness,  distrust 
the  idea  altogether.  Let  us  then  rejoice  that  all 
that  is  not  placed  within  our  control  is  under 
Heavenly  direction.  I  am  continually  asking  my- 
self,   "  How   is    Mrs.    S supported   under    this 

great  trial  ?  "  And  then,  "  How  can  my  dear  Han- 
nah be  reconciled  ?  for  it  must  have  been  unex- 
pected." 

When  you  can,  do  let  me  hear  from  you  ;  and  like- 
wise  how    Mr.  sustains   himself.     He   is    the 

greatest  sufferer,  with  all  his  newly-formed  and  fer- 
vent hopes  cut  off.  And  I  have  heard  much  of  his 
enthusiastic  attachment ;  and  so  wisely  as  it  was 
bestowed,  we  must  all  approve  and  admire  his  judg- 
ment as  well  as  his  well-directed  sympathies.  Let 
us  be  grateful  that  we  are  not  wholly  of  dust,  but 
that  there  is  a  spirit  within  us  which  can  never  taste 
of  death  ;  and  that,  after  such  a  devotedly  useful, 
intellectual,  and  pure  life  as  was  your  sister's,  we 
have  the  assurance  that  she  will  reap  an  inheritance 
of  glory,  honor,  and  immortality.  Her  friends  can 
have  none  but  the  kindest  remembrance  of  her.  And 
her  good  example  is  a  fountain  of  treasures  that  will 
be  stored  in  the  memory  of  those  who  have  known 
and  loved  her,  and  felt  the  infusion  of  her  spirit  to 
be  a  blessing  to  them. 

Spring  has  again  returned  to  us,  and  spread  in  her 


386  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

way  a  freshness  and  a  glory  which  I  feel  to  be  a 
perpetual  ministration  of  love  to  my  heart, —  a  whis- 
pering of  joys  that  never  decay,  which  comes  in  the 
song  of  birds,  in  the  sweet  perfume  of  flowers,  com- 
bined with  the  most  perfect  verdure  I  ever  saw  at 
this  season.  So  that  the  beauty  which  surrounds  us 
would  be  all  that  we  could  desire,  and  all  at  we 
could  enjoy,  were  it  not  contrasted  with  the  sadness 
of  this  life's  experience  ;  the  multiplied  sorrows  and 
disappointments  Heaven  has  found  necessary  for 
our  discipline.  When  a  mother  loses  an  infant  from 
her  arms,  we  are  all  anxious  to  know  how  she  will 
bestow  the  faculties  and  the  time  so  tenderly  en- 
grossed. But  I  am,  from  my  own  experience  of 
sorrow,  most  anxiously  engaged  in  finding  a  way  to 
appropriate  those  thoughts  and  affections  which,  in 
their  exercise,  did  not  require  our  immediate  care, 
but  were  combined  with  all  our  plans  and  anticipa- 
tion. This  void  made  in  my  heart  by  the  death  of 
my  much-valued  child  is  still  unfilled,  and  though  I 
am  from  habit  accustomed  to  it,  I  am  never  insen- 
sible to  it ;  and  I  am  sure  she  is  more  constantly  in 
my  thoughts  than  my  living  children  are  who  are 
absent.  This  is  a  great  source  of  pleasure  which 
you  will  enjoy,  and  one  which  proves  the  value  of  an 
intellectual  life  such  as  was  your  sister's. 

Give  my  love  to  your  mother ;  tell  her  my  heart 
is  furnished  largely  with  sympathy  for  those  who 
have  lost  a  good  daughter. 

Your  very  affectionate  and  sympathizing  friend, 

Anne  Jean  Lyman. 


ON  THE  GIFT  OF  A  PURSE  387 

To  Mrs.  Greene,  Northampton,  Aug,  30,  1844. 

My  dear  Abby, —  We  were  very  glad,  some  ten 
days  ago,  to  see  Mary  Howe,  and  with  her  to  get 
good  intelligence  of  yourself  and  all  your  house- 
hold, together  with  all  our  other  friends  in  Cincin- 
nati. I  have  likewise  to  thank  you  for  your  kind 
remembrance  of  me  in  a  purse,  which  will  be  of  the 
highest  value  to  me  as  a  proof  of  love.  You  may 
remember  Cowper's  lines  on  a  similar  occasion,  and 
I  will  give  them  here  in  case  you  do  not:  — 

"  Gold  pays  the  worth  of  all  things  here, 
But  not  of  love, —  that  gem's  too  dear 
For  richest  rogues  to  win  it. 
I  therefore,  as  a  proof  of  love, 
Esteem  your  present  far  above 
The  best  things  kept  within  it." 

It  is  pleasant  to  know  that  some  of  the  best  things 
in  this  life  cannot  be  purchased  with  money,  and 
are  not  diminished  by  the  lack  of  it.  My  thoughts 
are  often  turned  to  your  little  circle ;  which  I  have 
the  more  pleasure  in,  now  that  I  know  Catherine  as 
grown  to  maturity.  You  have  heard  of  the  death 
of  Charlotte's  son,  who  was  nine  months  old.  They 
have  had  a  great  deal  of  suffering  during  the  last 
two  months  of  its  life.  Little  Anne  is  a  very  lovely 
child ;  and,  as  might  be  expected,  is  doted  upon 
by  her  parents.  Her  father  will  take  great  pains 
and  have  great  pleasure  in  her  education,  she  is  so 
very  susceptible.  Since  they  went  to  Cabotville 
the)'  have  not  been  here.  I  have  been  there  once, 
and  mean  to  go  again  soon,  if  something  imperious 
docs  not  prevent. 


388  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

A  fortnight  since,  Mr.  Lyman,  Susan,  and  myself 
went  up  to  Lebanon  Springs  for  a  few  days.  When 
we  got  there  we  found  a  large  circle  of  our  Boston 
acquaintance.  Such  places  are  tiresome  to  your 
Uncle,  and  we  stayed  but  a  few  days,  leaving  Susan 
for  a  longer  time  with  her  acquaintance.  When  I 
got  home,  I  thought  your  Uncle  was  remarkably 
well ;  but  a  few  days  since  he  was  affected  as  if  he 
had  had  a  slight  stroke  of  palsy.  The  whole  of  one 
side  seemed  infirm,  as  if  he  could  not  move  without 
difficulty  either  his  arm  or  leg.  He  does  not  seem 
sick,  but  is  low-spirited ;  and,  I  think,  views  it  as  a 
premonition  of  more  trouble.  I  know  not  what  to 
look  forward  to,  or  what  to  wish  for.  But  we  are 
in  God's  hands,  and  whatever  He  sends  will  be  right. 

S.  is  very  much  benefited  by  her  tour  to  the  Leba- 
non Mountains.  The  air  is  very  bracing,  and  that 
is  what  she  requires  in  the  course  of  one  of  our  hot 
summers.  On  our  return  from  Lebanon  we  passed  a 
day  at  Stockbridge,  and  part  of  one  in  Westfield.  I 
have  told  you  before,  I  believe,  that  Mr.  Fowler 
has  a  charming  wife  and  a  magnificent  new  house, 
with  every  thing  elegant  in  it.  When  at  Stock- 
bridge,  we  saw  Fanny  Fowler  (that  was)  and  Miss 
Sedgwick, —  who  is  a  lovely  old  lady,  with  her  red 
curly  hair,  and  looking,  notwithstanding,  as  aged  as 
your  antiquated  Aunt  (for  we  are  just  of  an  age). 
Give  a  great  deal  of  love  to  Katie ;  and  tell  her  we 
have  heard  twice  from  my  Catherine  since  her 
arrival  in  Macao.  She  speaks  of  herself  as  the  hap- 
piest person  living,  and  thinks  she  has  the  best  of 
husbands.     They  were  on  their  voyage  one  hundred 


AMATEUR  PERFORMANCE  OF  "RIVALS"  389 

and  four  days ;  had  no  bad  storms,  or  threatened 
disasters,  and  she  likes  Macao  very  much.  It  is  a 
beautiful  city,  situated  like  Nahant ;  but  in  the 
winter,  to  avoid  a  separation  from  her  husband,  she 
will  have  to  go  to  Canton.  And  there  she  can 
neither  ride  nor  walk  out,  and  consequently  is  a 
prisoner.  But  they  will  contrive  to  get  rid  of  a 
couple  of  years,  I  hope,  comfortably.  .  .  .  Mr.  Delano 
is  a  person  who  takes  most  watchful  care  of  all 
domestic  interests,  is  exceedingly  kind  and  affec- 
tionate to  his  father,  brothers,  and  sisters,  and  all 
connections ;  and,  I  have  no  doubt,  will  be  a  good 
husband.  .  .  . 

To  Miss  C.  Robbins,  Northampton,  Jan.  12,  1S45. 

My  dear  Sister, —  I  have  been  intending  to 
write  to  you  ever  since  I  received  your  last  letter, 
but  have  had  a  good  deal  to  do,  and  a  good  many 
interruptions,  as  usual. 

Last  week  the  young  people  were  engaged  in 
theatricals,  and  on  Thursday  the  "Rivals"  by  Sheri- 
dan, came  off  with  great  dclat.  Susan  took  no  part 
in  the  play,  but  helped  Mary  A.  Cochran  as  mana- 
ger and  director,  which  took  up  considerable  time. 
Mrs.  Tom  Whitmarsh  lent  them  her  parlors  for  the 
pertormance,  which  was  the  best  place,  as  the 
house  can  be  heated  all  over  with  a  furnace.  The 
two  Miss  Adams  and  their  brother,  Julia  Clarke  and 
Robert  and  Harrison  Apthorp,  George  Dickinson 
and  Luther  Washburn,  James  Lyman  and  Caroline 
Whitmarsh  were  the  performers.  Mr.  Ellis  gave 
out  or  assigned   the  parts   before   he  left,  and   saw 


390  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

one  rehearsal,  which  he  pronounced  very  good. 
There  were  seventy  spectators,  and  it  was  pro- 
nounced a  very  fine  performance.  I  think  I  never 
saw  any  so  good  at  the  theatre,  taking  out  the 
leading  actor. 

The  following  evening,  which  was  Friday,  Presi- 
dent Hopkins,  from  Williamstown,  delivered  a  very 
fine  lyceum  lecture  to  a  very  crowded  andience. 
His  subject  was,  "The  Voluntary  and  the  Involun- 
tary Powers  of  Man,"  teaching  the  practical  appli- 
cation or  improvement  of  those  powers  to  the  best 
advantage.  He  exemplified  his  subject  by  a  great 
many  appropriate  figures,  and  the  introduction  of 
a  great  deal  of  fine  poetry.  In  short,  the  hearers 
were  overflowing  with  admiration  and  delight  for  an 
hour  and  a  half. 

Saturday  S.  gave  to  repose,  being  very  much 
fatigued  with  the  week's  work  and  its  accompany- 
ing excitement.  And  to-day,  which  is  Catherine's 
birthday,  we  have  listened  to  excellent  preaching 
all  day  from  Mr.  Lippett,  who  is  to  supply  Mr. 
Ellis's  place  during  his  absence.  He  dined  with 
us,  and  Jane  took  tea  and  passed  the  evening  here, 
—  and  Mr.  Charles  Huntington.  Jane  is  much 
interested  in  the  marriage  of  Mr.  North  to  a  sister 
of  Dr.  Thompson.  And  now  you  have  had  a  gen- 
eral sketch  of  Northampton  life,  I  believe. 

Marriages,  births,  sickness,  and  death  are  every- 
where mingled  in  human  experience ;  and,  if  we  can 
find  an  interval  occasionally  long  enough  for  a  little 
recreation  and  exhilaration  of  our  spirits,  we  should 
be  frrateful  for  it  in  this  vale  of  tears. 


THE  GOODNESS  OF  HUMAN  NA  TURE      391 

I  am  much  pleased  with  the  last  number  of  the 
"Christian  Examiner,"  particularly  Mr.  Hedge's  re- 
view of  Mr.  Emerson's  "  Essays,"  and  Mr.  Thomp- 
son's of  Mr.  Putnam.  I  am  glad  to  hear  of  John 
Parker's  bequest  to  Mr.  Putnam.  It  is  very  rare 
that  ministers  have  any  thing  left  them,  and  I  am 
glad  of  such  an  example. 

To  Mrs.  Howe,  Northampton,  Aug.  31,  1845. 

My  dear  Sister, — .  .  .  The  beginning  of  last  week 
we  had  a  vague  account  of  Mr.  Delano's  fire  at 
M«icao,  which  furnished  me  with  some  anxiety;  but 
that  gave  place  to  hearing  of  a  real  sorrow  a  few  days 
since,  which  has  absorbed  my  mind  almost  entirely, 
and  I  have  been  putting  off  writing  on  that  account. 
You  have  heard  of  the  sudden  death  of  Mrs.  Hard- 
ing ?  There  has  always  been  something  about  her 
that  I  have  felt  a  great  respect  for ;  a  quiet  consis- 
tency in  goodness,  a  common-sense  purpose  that  at- 
tained its  end,  a  cultivated  perception  of  moral  senti- 
ment as  well  as  the  beautiful  in  nature.  And  every 
thing  about  her  so  unpretending  and  sincere,  that 
one  could  not  know  her  well  and  withhold  their  re- 
spect. Contemplating  her  character,  strengthens  my 
confidence  in  the  goodness  of  human  nature.  It 
gives  me  faith  in  virtue,  and  makes  me  feel  that  it  is 
a  reality  ;  and  that  its  infusion  into  real  life  opens 
to  us  the  best  sources  of  happiness.  When  such 
a  savor  is  taken  from  the  eircle  which  it  affected, 
there  is  much  to  deplore  ;  and  I  cannot  say  as  many 
do  in  such  cases,  "  How  soon  such  things  are  over- 
looked and  forgotten  !  "   for  I  have  faith    to   believe 


392  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

that  all  the  good  seed  sown  in  this  world  will  be 
guarded  and  made  fruitful  by  heavenly  wisdom  ;  that 
none  of  it  will  be  lost,  but  bring  forth,  some  fifty, 
and  some  an  hundred  fold. 

Mrs.  Harding  left  six  sons,  over  whom  she  had 
a  great  influence.  The  four  youngest  can  never 
have  that  influence  made  up  to  them ;  though 
Margaret  will  be,  as  she  always  has  been,  all  that 
a  sister  can  be,  for  she  is  one  of  the  wisest  and  the 
best  young  persons  I  ever  knew ;  of  C.  I  know  but 
little,  therefore  cannot  speak.  I  have  not  informed 
Susan  of  this  calamity,  hoping  she  would  not  hear 
of  it  until  she  got  to  Springfield ;  and  then  I  thought 
she  would  stop  for  a  day  or  two  with  Margaret,  for 
their  mutual  satisfaction. 

We  have  got  to  hear preach  all  day  in  the 

absence  of  our  beloved  Rufus  Ellis ;  it  is  a  severe 
dispensation,  but  he  was  here  and  applied  for  the 
chance.  Mr.  Ellis  is  published,  and  will  be  married 
this  month,  —  I  mean  September. 

P.  S.  I  am  reading  the  "  Wandering  Jew,"  taking 
it  homceopathically,  in  small  doses.  I  don't  know 
as  you  are  well  enough  to  bear  it,  for  it  is  very 
exciting ;  but  works  of  imagination  never  take  such 
a  violent  hold  of  me  as  they  do  of  some  people.  It 
takes  reality  to  distress  me ;  I  am  such  a  matter-of- 
fact  person,  that  I  cannot  invest  my  fancy  as  many 
can. 

Northampton,  Sunday,  Sept.  28,  1845. 

My  dear  Son, —  ..."  All's  well,  that  ends  well ; " 
and  there  is  much  good  mingled  with  the  sorrows 


BIR THDA  Y  REFLE  CTIONS  393 

and  trials  of  this  life.  And  our  lot  is  always  better 
than  we  deserve,  while  we  remain  in  this  mutable 
world,  — 

"  Where  nothing  can  satisfy,  nothing's  secure 

From  change  and  decay,  and  disorder  and  strife ; 
No  beauty  is  perfect,  no  virtue  is  pure, 
And  evil  and  good  are  companions  for  life. 

"  Where  finding  no  rest,  like  the  patriarch's  dove 

Which  flew  to  the  ark  when  the  flood  was  abroad, 
O'erwearied  we  seek,  in  the  mansions  above, 
The  rest  that  remains  for  the  people  of  God." 

And  if  we  are  of  that  number,  we  shall  finally 
inherit  the  rest.  And  we  that  are  some  way  ad- 
vanced on  the  journey  of  life,  so  that  the  end  seems 
near  at  hand,  can  fully  realize  the  consolations  and 
encouragements  accompanying  that  hope.  .  .  . 

Feb.  10,  1846. 
There  is  but  little,  my  dear  son,  to  be  gathered, 
either  from  my  experience  or  from  my  contempla- 
tions, that  will  profit  you  or  give  you  pleasure ;  but 
it  is  your  birthday,  and,  if  I  do  not  consecrate  it 
for  a  holy  day,  I  can  mark  it  for  a  day  of  increased 
and  uninterrupted  satisfaction  for  the  twenty-seventh 
time.  Now  you  will  not  let  this  make  you  vain,  but 
refer  what  I  have  said  rather  to  your  mother's 
vanity.  It  is  not  uncommon  for  parents,  when  they 
have  nothing  else  to  take  pride  in,  to  inflate  it  with 
something  they  are  connected  with  ;  imagining  that 
there  is  a  reflected  lustre  reaching  themselves  from 
these  surrounding  causes.  .  .  .  Your  father  is  very 
well,  and    very  contented    with    having  me  to  read 


394  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

to  him  nearly  all  the  time.  I  have  this  week  "been 
reading  Mrs.  Sedgwick's  stories  to  him.  They  are 
of  a  kind  to  move  the  heart  gently,  and  to  superin- 
duce a  kindly  feeling  for  every  thing  that  is  good ; 
they  awaken  a  holy  interest  that  makes  the  heart 
better  without  producing  any  injurious  shock,  or 
too  great  excitement  of  the  tender  sensibilities. 
Love  to  my  friends. 

Your  very  affectionate  Mother. 

In  March,  1846,  while  recovering  from  the  fearful 
and  dangerous  disease  whose  consequences  darkened 
the  whole  remainder  of  her  life,  she  wrote  to  her 
son  Edward,  after  hearing  of  his  engagement.  After 
passing  lightly  over  the  six  weeks  of  intense  suffer- 
ing, she  goes  on  :  — 

"  And  now  let  me  tell  you  that  I  am  rejoiced  that 
you  have  reached  that  point  in  your  destiny  which 
is  to  insure  you  a  pleasant  and  valuable  companion 
for  life  ;  and  I  trust  she  is  all  you  think  she  is, — 
a  rational  and  high-principled  woman,  with  warm 
affections  towards  yourself,  and  such  domestic  habits 
as  make  life  smooth  ;  one  who  has  been  more  accus- 
tomed to  minister  than  to  be  ministered  unto ;  one 
who  feels  that  household  cares  are  woman's  duty, 
no  less  than  her  privilege ;  one  who  is  literally  a 
sharer  with  her  husband  in  his  cares,  instead  of  lead- 
ing that  useless,  empty  life  that  leaves  no  record  but 
vanity  to  mark  its  path.  I  have  often  troubled  my- 
self with  the  fear  lest  my  sons  should  marry  idle, 
fashionable  women.  If  Heaven  has  spared  me  this 
sorrow,  I  have  much  to  be  grateful  for.     As  a  child 


APPEARANCE  OF  "JANE  EYRE"  395 

needs  an  instructor,  so  do  grown  people  need  a 
higher  guidance  than  mere  self-will.  They  need  the 
light  of  that  polar  star,  an  enlightened  conscience, 
with  that  holy  standard  which  forever  separates  right 
and  wrong.  May  you  both  be  guided  by  it,  and 
amidst  your  greatest  trials  you  will  find  consolation." 
After  a  delightful  visit  from  Mrs.  Greene,  she 
writes  to  her  after  her  own  return  from  New  York, 
describing  the  enjoyment  of  the  trip  to  her  son's 
wedding  at  Brooklyn,  and  of  pleasant  excursions 
she  made  in  her  short  absence  from  home.  She 
says  of  Greenwood,  then  newly  laid  out :  "  We 
visited  the  Greenwood  Cemetery  at  Brooklyn,  which 
is  truly  beautiful.  It  is  Mount  Auburn  magnified 
and  multiplied.  Do  get  some  of  your  friends  to  ride 
over  with  you  and  see  it.  I  can  only  think,  while 
looking  at  it,  of  Beattie's  description  of  the  beauties 
of  nature  ;  and  realize  it  all  there  :  — 

" '  The  pomp  of  groves  and  garniture  of  fields, 
All  that  the  genial  ray  of  morning  gilds, 
And  all  that  echoes  to  the  song  of  even  ; 
All  that  the  mountain's  sheltering  bosom  shields, 
And  all  the  dread  magnificence  of  Heaven.'" 

It  was  during  this  winter  of  1847,  that  I  went 
to  New  York,  to  pass  some  weeks  with  my  sister, 
whose  long  absence  of  three  years  in  China  had 
made  her  return  to  this  country  a  circumstance  full 
of  pleasure  to  the  whole  family  circle.  While  I  was 
there,  the  novel  of  "Jane  Eyre"  first  appeared; 
its  author  unknown,  no  fame  to  herald  it.  The 
effect  it  produced  upon  the  whole  reading  world  was 


396  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

electrical.  If  all  the  stories  and  anecdotes  of  the 
effects  of  reading  "  Jane  Eyre  "  could  be  collected, 
they  would  fill  a  volume,  and  would  give  added  evi- 
dence, were  any  needed,  of  the  rare  genius  that  pro- 
duced this  wonderful  book.  I  had  just  finished 
it,  and  was  still  living  in  the  glow  it  had  caused, 
when  a  letter  from  my  mother  announced,  "  I  have 
read  'Jane  Eyre;'  and,  though  it  is  intensely  inter- 
esting, I  advise  you  not  to  read  it,  for  I  think  it  has 
a  most  immoral  tendency."  I  believe  the  character 
of  Rochester,  and  what  she  always  designated  as 
"his  lie  at  the  altar,"  was  what  had  impressed  her. 
Certainly,  he  bore  no  resemblance  either  in  his  char- 
acter or  circumstances  to  any  oi  her  living  or  dead 
standards.  But  I  was  much  amazed  to  receive  by 
the  very  next  post  a  letter  from  my  friend,  Martha 
Swan,  who  was  staying  with  her  in  my  absence, 
in  which  she  said,  "Your  mother  has  been  com- 
pletely carried  away  with  '  Jane  Eyre.'  She  went 
out  yesterday  and  bought  herself  a  pair  of  new 
shoes.  After  she  came  home  she  took  up  'Jane,' 
and  read  till  tea-time  ;  then  she  read  till  bed-time. 
Then  I  retired,  and  she  read  till  nearly  morning, 
finding,  when  she  went  to  bed  at  last,  that  the  toes 
of  her  new  shoes  were  fairly  burnt  through,  over 
the  dying  embers."  Whether  the  loss  of  her  shoes, 
by  means  of  "a  trumpery  novel,"  had  any  influence 
on  her  opinion  of  Rochester,  I  would  not  pretend 
to  say.  She  became  very  indignant  when  she  came 
to  that  part  of  the  story  where  Jane,  after  leaving 
Rochester,  forgot  her  little  bundle  of  clothes.  "  So 
shiftless    of   her,"    she  exclaimed,  impetuously,  "to 


DEA  TH  OF  JUDGE  L  YMAN  397 

go  off  without  a  change  of  linen ;  I've  no  patience 
with  her." 

In  a  letter  to  Abby,  dated  August  12,  1847,  she 
speaks  of  her  overflowing  thankfulness  in  the  return 
of  her  daughter  Catherine  from  China,  and  of  her 
little  grand-daughter  Louise,  as  a  most  engaging  and 
interesting  child.  She  adds,  "  Your  Uncle  has 
shown  more  pleasure  in  Katie's  return,  and  in 
having  her  with  us  again,  than  I  had  dared  to 
expect  in  his  present  feeble  state.  He  seems  to 
have  a  vivid  sense  of  all  Mr.  Delano's  kindness, 
and  has  been  taking  an  interest  in  having  new  fences 
all  over  our  place,  on  both  sides  of  the  road.  Ed- 
ward came  home  six  weeks  ago,  and  he  with  his  wife 
stayed  with  us  a  fortnight.  And  Joseph  and  his 
wife  were  here  with  their  adopted  child  at  the  same 
time.  So  I  have  seen  all  my  children  together, 
which  is  the  first  time  since  my  dear  Anne's  death  ; 
and  I  enjoyed  it  highly."  .  .  . 

In  December,  1847,  my  dear  father  had  his  last 
and  severest  attack  of  paralysis,  and  closed  his 
peaceful,  useful  life  in  unconsciousness.  I  can  dis- 
cover but  one  letter  of  my  mother's  written  at  this 
time,  though  there  must  have  been  many  others. 
It  was  to  Mr.  Richard  L.  Allen,  and  ran  as  fol- 
lows :  — 

My  dear  Friend, —  I  cannot  express  to  you  how 
much  I  was  gratified  by  your  kind  remembrance  of 
me  in  my  trouble.  Sympathy  is  an  offering  to  the 
heart  which  gains  ready  access  when  sorrow  has 
taken  possession  of  it.     My  husband's  death  was  at 


398  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

least  unexpected  by  me,  though  he  had  been  more 
unwell  than  common  for  several  weeks,  and  was 
supposed  to  have  had  another  stroke  of  paralysis, 
when  no  one  saw  him,  though  he  never  gave  any 
account  of  himself  which  should  lead  to  such  a  con- 
clusion. It  is  not  however  improbable.  I  was 
absent  in  Boston  and  did  not  get  home  until  the 
day  after  it  occurred.  From  that  time  he  appeared 
like  a  stationary  invalid,  who  might,  with  great  care, 
live  a  number  of  months.  His  mind  was  in  a  wan- 
dering state,  though  not  wholly  absent.  Pie  sat  up 
most  of  the  day  in  a  large  easy-chair  and  slept  a 
good  part  of  the  day,  ate  but  little  and  had  a  reluc- 
tance to  seeing  any  one  but  Susan  and  myself.  I 
took  care  of  him  during  the  nights.  On  Thursday 
night,  December  9th,  he  had  a  restless  and  bad  time, 
but  was  better  early  in  the  morning.  But  after 
being  dressed  and  taking  his  usual  breakfast,  he 
was  seized  with  spasms,  after  which  he  lost  all 
power  to  swallow,  and  all  consciousness,  and  re- 
mained in  that  state  until  Saturday  evening,  the 
1 1  th,  when  he  quietly  ceased  to  breathe. 

For  the  last  six  years  life  has  been  a  heavy  bur- 
den to  him,  and  he  often  said  that  he  was  left  to 
be  a  "  cumberer  of  the  ground,"  and  he  was  ready 
to  depart,  and  he  hoped  that  his  life  would  not  be 
protracted.  Under  these  circumstances,  we  could 
not  ask  to  have  him  remain.  The  body  had  out- 
lived the  soul,  and  life  was  too  joyless  to  be  desir- 
able. It  was  a  remarkable  fact  in  his  history,  that 
he  never  suffered  from  acute  pain  in  his  life.  He 
never    had    toothache,    or    headache,   or    rheumatic 


JUDGE  LYMAN'S  CHARACTER  399 

pain  of  any  kind.  His  life  has  been  an  uncommonly 
happy  one,  owing  to  a  more  calm  and  equable  tem- 
perament than  is  usual  —  added  to  a  well  balanced 
mind.  He  was  not  disturbed  by  the  little  inequali- 
ties and  mutations  which  must  occur  in  the  course 
of  a  long  life.  "  Society,  Friendship  and  Love," 
the  means  of  which  are  so  abundantly  scattered 
throughout  this  universe,  furnished  his  greatest 
sources  of  enjoyment  through  life.  He  always 
spoke  of  you  with  great  confidence  and  affection, 
and  seemed  much  disappointed  that  he  did  not  see 
more  of  you  when  you  were  last  here.  He  always 
enjoyed  seeing  your  wife,  and  often  said,  "Few  of 
our  girls  have  got  so  good  a  husband  as  Sally  has." 
His  sympathies  were  so  warm  that  his  friend's  hap- 
piness increased  his  own. 

My  husband  has  left  something  to  all  his  children, 
and  myself  out  of  the  reach  of  want,  and  that  is  as 
much  as  is  good  for  people  to  have  in  this  world  of 
temptation.  I  shall  make  up  for  my  lack  of  abun- 
dance by  a  large  supply  of  contentment,  and  en- 
deavor to  draw  on  other  sources  than  money  for  my 
happiness.  I  would  not  exchange  some  of  my  pos- 
sessions, for  all  there  is  in  the  Banks  —  that  is  if 
I  may  count  children  for  possessions  —  S.  is  a 
treasure  of  inestimable  value,  and  my  sons  are 
better  to  me,  as  well  as  my  daughters,  than  many 
millions  would  be  without  them.  So  you  see  we  all 
have  some  "flattering  unction,"  to  fall  back  upon, 
to  console  us  fur  the  want  of  means.  At  any  rate 
Gratitude  and  Contentment,  add  to  which  Faith  in 
the  justice  of  God,  and  our  measure  will  be  full. 


400  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

Your  wife  and  children  seem  to  be  very  happy 
and  remarkably  well.  Sarah  is  very  kind  in  coming 
in  to  see  me  frequently,  though  not  as  often  as  I 
should  like.  I  ought  to  congratulate  you  on  the 
delightful  climate  you  are  enjoying,  while  we  are 
perished  with  cold.  We  have  had  no  snow  to  speak 
of  yet,  though  a  good  many  rain  storms,  and  the  real 
severity  of  our  weather  is  yet  to  come. 

Your  very  affectionate  friend, 

Anne  Jean  Lyman. 

To  her  son  she  wrote,  January  22  :  —  "  Yesterday 
was  a  sacred  day  in  my  calendar,  for  a  reason  which 
you  will  remember,  for  it  separated  us  for  ever,  in 
this  world,  from  our  beloved  Anne  Jean  ;  but  no 
one  lives  a  half  century  and  more  without  many 
such  anniversaries,  perhaps  more  than  I  have.  But 
I  mean  my  heart  shall  dwell  on  the  blessings  which 
have  been  showered  on  my  path,  and  not  on  the 
sorrows.  The  best  wish  I  can  entertain  for  you  is, 
that  you  may  be  blessed  in  your  sons  as  I  have  been 
in  mine. 

"  Tell  Catherine,  with  my  love,  if  we  did  not  drink 
a  glass  of  wine  to  her  health,  we  did  not  forget  her 
birthday,  and  shall  not  forget  our  son's. 

"  Susan  has  been  invited,  this  fine  day,  to  go 
down  to  Springfield,  and  stay  till  four  o'clock;  and 
I  am  glad  to  have  her  go, —  it  does  her  so  much 
good  to  take  a  little  excursion, —  and  she  has  never 
left  home  the  last  six  weeks,  or  been  anywhere,  of 
course."  .  .  . 


IMPROBABILITY  OF  UNDINE  401 

To  Miss  C.  Robbins. 

It  is  but  a  poor  consolation  to  you  to  know  that 
my  conscience  is  perfectly  seared  as  with  a  hot  iron. 
I  have  been  intending  to  write  this  last  fortnight ; 
but  pride,  in  endeavoring  to  keep  up  appearances 
with  those  I  am  under  the  least  obligation  to,  has 
induced  me  to  write  to  many  more  distant  corre- 
spondents first,  so  that  you  are  last  served. 

We  have  had  two,  indeed  three,  very  interesting 
lectures  since  you  left,  from  Mr.  Greeley,  Dr. 
Hopkins,  and  President  Wheeler;  which  is  about  all 
the  variety  we  have  had.  But  I  have  got  enough  to 
think  of  and  enough  to  do  without  any  additional 
exciting  causes  ;  and  am  very  contented  with  the 
repose  accompanying  our  warm  and  comfortable 
winter. 

Susan  is  enjoying  her  old  resource, —  society, 
friendship,  and  love, —  in  Springfield,  with  Margaret 
and  Lucretia ;  and  I  am  calculating  that  it  will 
promote  a  degree  of  self-forgetfulness  favorable  to 
her  neuralgic  affection.  She  writes  that  she  has 
been  well  since  she  left,  and  I  expect  her  home 
to-morrow.  During  her  absence,  Martha  Swan  and 
I  have  read  a  very  agreeable  book,  by  the  author  of 
"  Undine."  Of  course  there  is  no  probability  in  the 
story,  for  that  is  no  part  of  the  design  of  a  German 
novelist ;  still  there  is  much  information  and  enter- 
tainment. Perhaps  you  have  read  it ;  "  Theodolf,  or 
the  Icelander,"  is  the  title. 

Mr.  George  Ellis  came  to  see  me  yesterday,  and 
will  preach  for  us  to-day.  We  were  much  pleased  to 
hear  Mr.  Simmons  last  Sunday  ;  and,  as  he  was  here 


402  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

during  his  leisure  that  day,  we  got  a  good  deal  ac- 
quainted with  him,  and  found  him  a  very  genial, 
pleasant  man.  He  told  me  what  I  did  not  know, 
that  he  had  been  living  in  Milton.  I  think  he  has 
but  a  faint  idea  of  what  Springfield  is  ;  but  he  seems 
to  like  it  very  much,  so  imperfectly  as  it  is  known  to 
him. 

January  30.  I  went  this  morning  to  hear  one  of 
Mr.  George  Ellis's  best  discourses.  His  text  was 
from  the  sixth  chapter  of  Hebrews  and  fifth  verse : 
"The  powers  of  the  world  to  come."  His  subject 
was,  the  influence  those  powers  exert  on  human 
character,  according  to  their  different  states  of  mind 
and  education.  I  think  the  house  will  be  crowded 
this  afternoon  ;  it  was  very  full  this  morning.  Many 
people  went  expecting  to  hear  a  sermon  appropriate 
to  the  occasion  of  Mrs.  H.  S.'s  death,  that  I  think 
will  come  again  and  bring  more. 

It  is  a  great  blessing  to  me  to  have  Martha  Swan 
with  me,  she  being  fond  of  the  kind  of  reading  I 
like. 

Northampton,  March  8,  1848. 

My  dear  Son, — .  .  .  My  hands  and  my  mind  are 
employed,  though  there  is  considerable  monotony  in 
my  existence. 

Since  I  read  "Jane  Eyre,"  I  have  read  the  "  Life 
of  John  Jay,"  which  interested  me  very  much, 
though  I  have  read  it  before,  some  twelve  years  ago ; 
but  I  always  have  thought  of  him  as  one  of  the 
saints  of  the  earth,  and,  like  Washington,  that  we 
should  never  see  his  like  as-ain. 


ON  BRINGING  UP  CHILDREN  4°3 

Now,  with  your  leave,  I  shall  use  the  remainder 
of  the  paper  for  the  benefit  of  your  wife. 

My  dear  Sarah, —  I  have  had  it  in  my  heart 
a  long  time  to  write  to  you,  not  that  I  thought  I 
could  give  you  much  pleasure,  but  for  my  own 
satisfaction. 

Now,  of  course  you  don't  know  how  deeply  I 
sympathized  with  you  in  this  last  momentous  event 
in  your  history.  Married  people  have  a  great  many 
mountains  to  go  over,  and  each  one  safely  passed 
is  a  subject  of  congratulation,  where  the  gain  has 
been  greater  than  the  cost  and  trouble.  Now,  I 
hold  my  only  grandson  to  be  a  mighty  treasure. 
I  feel  much  richer  for  him  myself,  and  if  I  am  so 
much  benefited,  what  must  be  your  case  ?  Why,  he 
is  a  mine  of  wealth  !  an  income  of  daily  comfort!  — 
just  what  his  father  has  always  been  to  me  ;  and 
now  I  feel  that  the  treasure  is  doubled  in  his  having 
a  good  wife,  and,  I  trust,  an  excellent  child.  You 
are  sure  now  of  having  something  to  do  that  will 
add  greatly  to  the  importance  and  value  of  life ; 
and  I  don't  know  of  any  thing  more  satisfactory 
than  bringing  up  children.  They  are  nearly  all 
that  gives  any  interest  to  old  age,  if  we  are  per- 
mitted to  attain  to  it.  I  often  wish  I  was  going  to 
live  my  life  over  again,  for  my  children's  sake  ;  for, 
with  my  present  experience  and  discipline,  I  should 
be  much  better  fitted  to  bring  up  a  family  of  chil- 
dren than  I  was  in  time  past.  But  the  same  is  the 
case  with  others  ;  and,  in  observing  upon  mankind, 
we  see  that  every  thing  done  is  an  experiment  made 


404  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

without  any  knowledge  of  the  result.  Some  of  the 
experiments  turn  out  well,  and  some  ill.  But  having 
the  destiny  of  our  children  in  our  hands  is  such  a 
fearful,  anxious  task,  that  it  inspires  some  profound 
reflections  in  those  who  never  had  any  before;  and 
there  are  many  strengthening  influences  accompany- 
ing all  our  domestic  duties,  which  have  a  very  salu- 
tary bearing  on  the  character,  and,  together  with 
love,  help  us  along,  and  prevent  many  with  but  little 
instruction  from  making  shipwreck  of  their  children 
and  their  domestic  happiness.  I  am  calculating 
that  Edward  and  yourself  will  have  a  pattern  family, 
which,  if  I  live  to  see,  will  add  much  to  the  pleasures 
of  my  advanced  life. 

Northampton,  March  16,  1848. 

My  dear  Son,  —  I  was  glad  to  learn  from  your 
own  pen  that  your  wife  and  my  grandson  are  doing 
well.  I  know  that  Sarah  will  take  time  for  recovery. 
As  Mrs.  Butler  is  going  to-morrow,  and  I  can  send 
a  package  as  well  as  not,  I  will  send  you  the  porrin- 
ger to  my  little  grandson,  which  his  father  was 
always  fed  from  when  a  youngster ;  and  I  hope  and 
pray  he  may  be  as  easy  to  get  along  with  as  was  his 
father. 

Mr.  Delano  must  be  thanked  for  John  Quincy 
Adams's  picture.  The  last  time  I  ever  saw  him, 
to  converse  with  him,  he  looked  like  that  picture ; 
but  when  I  saw  him  in  the  street,  last  autumn,  he 
was  much  thinner.  I  am  pleased  to  have  it.  The 
time  I  speak  of  conversing  with  him,  he  kissed  my 
hand  when  we  parted.     That  ceremony  was  a  part 


ON  BEING  "NOT  AT  HOME "  405 

of  his  European  manners.  Your  father  thought  it 
was  prophetic  that  we  should  never  meet  again.  .  .  . 
With  regard  to  Theodore  Parker's  eulogy  of  Mr. 
Adams,  if  a  man  acts  through  life  from  a  high  prin- 
ciple of  honor,  justice,  truth,  and  humanity,  but 
sometimes  commits  errors  of  judgment  and  opinion, 
those  blemishes  should  not  be  made  the  most  prom- 
inent when  pretending  to  write  his  "  eulogy."  Eben 
Hunt  could  lend  you  this  production,  I  dare  say.  I 
wish  you  would  give  Eben  one  of  Mr.  Ellis's  dis- 
courses on  your  father's  death,  and  ask  him  to  take 
an  early  opportunity  to  send  Baron  Rcenne ;  unless 
you  would  rather  do  it  yourself. 

Northampton,  April  25, 1848. 
My  dear  Abby, —  In  the  course  of  each  day  a 
good  many  people  call,  and  you  know  our  practice 
is  always  to  be  disengaged.  This  I  could  not  do 
in  a  city  ;  but  having  begun  so,  the  time  never  came 
for  discontinuing  the  practice.  And  I  am  now 
very  well  satisfied  that  a  great  many  valuable  friend- 
ships and  strong  attachments,  and  even  the  ties  of 
kindred,  have  been  broken  by  the  self-indulgence 
by  which  people  turn  their  friends  and  acquaint- 
ances from  the  door,  from  unwillingness  to  make 
a  reasonable  sacrifice  to  the  intercourse  of  friend- 
ship. It  is  so  heart-chilling,  that  it  does  much  to 
free7X"  the  affections  that  would  readily  expand  into 
a  kind  regard  or  a  generous  friendship,  to  be  told 
at  the  door  for  a  succession  of  years,  "not  at  home," 
or  "engaged."  In  my  own  case  it  tends  directly 
to  a  non-intercourse,  and  makes  city-life  and  habits 


406  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

intolerable  to  me ;  combining,  as  it  too  generally 
does,  heartlessness  and  senselessness. 

I  suppose  you  would  like  to  know  how  we  have 
lived  this  winter.  In  the  first  place,  after  your 
uncle's  death,  I  dismissed  my  oldest  domestic,  wish- 
ing to  teach  the  youngest  habits  of  responsibility 
and  care,  such  as  she  could  not  attain  while  there 
was  a  responsible  person  over  her ;  besides  wishing 
to  diminish  the  expense  of  two  hundred  dollars  a 
year,  which  was  the  least  I  could  estimate  her  board 
and  wages  at. 

My  real  estate  is  rated  so  high  that  it,  with  a  min- 
isterial tax  of  seventy  dollars,  will  not  be  less  than 
a  hundred  annually.  This,  with  an  income  not  over 
eight  hundred  dollars,  makes  the  nicest  calculations 
necessary  in  regard  to  economy.  And  I  do  not 
think  it  tends  any  more  to  narrow  the  mind  to  study 
a  rigid  economy,  than  it  does  to  keep  one's  self  friv- 
olously used  up  in  contrivances  for  spending  money 
lavishly,  and  studying  trifling  points  of  etiquette ; 
instead  of  studying  the  higher  philosophy  of  good 
principle,  and  seeking  in  religion  and  moral  recti- 
tude how  to  lead  a  good  life  in  the  sphere  God 
has  appointed  us  here.  Therefore,  I  shall  not  waste 
feeling  and  thought  on  the  uneasiness  of  not  being 
rich,  but  think  how,  under  existing  circumstances, 
I  can  widen  the  sphere  of  my  usefulness  without 
money.  This  will  be  harder  for  S.  than  for  her 
mother ;  but  she  has  good  principles,  and  too  much 
strength  of  character,  not  to  do  as  well  as  she  can 
in  whatever  position  she  is  placed,  and  that  without 
discontent  or  murmuring.     We  must  all  remember 


ON  SIMPLICITY  OF  LIVING  407 

that  our  lot  is  better  than  we  deserve,  and  that  the 
cultivation  of  contentment  and  gratitude  are  the 
great  antidotes  to  the  evils   of  this  life. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  winter,  I  had  Miss  Swan 
come  to  pass  the  winter  with  me,  for  I  knew  my  Susan 
must  be  much  of  it  with  Catherine  in  New  York. 

P.  S.  I  shall  enjoy  you  and  yours  in  your  home, 
were  it  in  the  greatest  possible  simplicity,  more  than 
I  can  possibly  enjoy  visiting  where  there  is  a  great 
effort  at  style  and  fashion  ;  for  in  one  I  can  find 
warmth  of  the  heart,  and  in  the  other  much  of  the 
ice  which  clings  to  gold,  the  touch  of  which  freezes 
the  soul. 

I  am  much  pleased  with  Mr.  T.  Walker's  discourse 
on  Mr.  Adams.  Please  to  say  to  him  that  I  am 
greatly  obliged  to  him  for  sending  it  to  me. 

To  IVm.  S.  Thayer,  at  Harvard  College,  Nov.  26,  184s. 

My  dear  William,— I  have  been  intending  to 
give  you  a  few  lines  ever  since  I  answered  your 
Brother  James's  letter.  I  was  very  glad  to  hear 
that  you  had  been  so  fortunate  as  to  get  a  school 
at  Canton.  I  hope  it  may  prove  all  that  you  desire  ; 
and  I  dare  say  your  anticipations  do  not  exaggerate 
the  pleasures  of  such  an  employment ;  on  the  con- 
trary, you  are  probably  expecting  a  great  deal  of 
trouble,  much  that  is  distasteful  and  difficult  to 
endure.  Put  you  must  learn  to  consider  that  all 
these  things  are  necessary  to  exercise,  as  well  as 
test,  your  judgment  ;  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  it 
will  prove  a  valuable  discipline  of  all  your  faculties, 


408  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

and  end  in  that  best  of  satisfactions, —  the  sense 
of  doing  good,  not  only  to  yourself,  but  to  your 
fellow  creatures. 

It  is  the  saying  of  a  good  man,  that,  "for  every 
good  deed  of  ours,  the  world  will  be  the  better 
always."  There  is  a  great  lesson  of  wisdom  to  be 
gained  from  teaching  others ;  and  that  is,  the  value 
of  reverence.  I  mean  reverence  in  its  highest  signi- 
fication,—  first  for  the  Author  of  our  being,  and  then 
for  his  works  ;  but  to  come  down  to  your  own  partic- 
ular case, —  a  just  respect  for  those  whose  superiority 
has  placed  them  over  us  as  instructors  and  rulers. 
No  youth  employed  as  a  teacher  for  the  first  time,  I 
believe,  ever  had  so  true  a  sense  as  this  occupation 
gives  him  of  the  necessity  of  that  most  valuable 
quality,  so  rare  in  these  days  of  "democracy,"  "lib- 
erty," and  "equality,"  and,  I  may  add,  "fraternity." 
But  a  teacher  has  constantly  before  him  the  practical 
illustration  of  its  necessity  and  its  value ;  and  the 
want  of  it  is  the  greatest  obstacle  to  improvement 
in  the  young,  for  it  brings  in  its  train  of  evils  the 
lack  of  humility. 

Now,  when  you  contemplate  all  the  difficulties  of 
college  government,  as  well  as  the  lower  institutions, 
• — common  schools,  &c, —  you  at  once  perceive  that 
they  are  all  owing  to  a  want  of  respect  for  authority ; 
in  other  words,  reverence.  When  the  young  people 
in  college  get  together,  they  do  not  discuss  the  vari- 
ous trials  and  virtues  of  the  president  and  professors, 
but  always  their  faults  and  imagined  defects,  with 
the  most  unmitigated  severity. 

I  have  no  doubt  that,  at  the  end  of  your  time  of 


THE  STIMULUS  OF  WANT  409 

school-teaching,  you  will  find  you  take  a  very  dif- 
ferent view  of  the  relation  between  the  teacher  and 
the  taught  from  what  you  did  before  you  commenced, 
and  that  you  have  gained  much  of  wisdom  by  your 
experience.  "  Revere  the  wise,  and  yours  will  be  the 
state  of  mind  into  which  wisdom  flows  most  freely," 
is  a  sentiment  which  we  cannot  apply  too  often  to 
ourselves,  or  to  those  we  are  teaching. 

I  am  glad  to  hear  that  James  Lyman  and  Chaun- 
cey  Wright  are  coming  home  to  Thanksgiving,  and 
wish  you  could  all  do  the  same.  Give  my  love  to 
James,  and  tell  him  I  should  like  to  hear  from  him 
whenever  he  can  find  it  in  his  heart  to  write  ;  and 
I  hope,  when  you  get  fixed  in  your  new  position,  you 
will  give  me  some  account  of  yourself  and  your 
hopes.     And  believe  me  your  very  interested  friend, 

Anne  Jean  Lyman. 

To  Mrs.  Greene,  she  wrote,  Aug.  2,  1849:  "S. 
has  two  sons.  They  have  talents  to  be  agreeable, 
but  their  faculties  are  somewhat  paralyzed  by  know- 
ing that  they  have  a  fortune  to  fall  back  upon,  and 
that  there  is  nothing  for  them  to  do  but  enjoy  it. 
'The  healthful  stimulus  of  prospective  want '  is  highly 
desirable  to  the  young  people  of  our  country  ;  and 
it  is  astonishing  how  many  amongst  us  are  ruined 
by  the  want  of  it.  You  may  have  seen  the  death  of 
Mr.  Theodore  Lyman  announced  in  the  Boston  news- 
papers. He  was  a  rare  exception  to  the  rule  I  have 
adverted  to.  He  left  no  widow,  but  left  a  son  and 
a  daughter.      He  provided  amply  for  them,  and  dis- 


41  o  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

posed  of  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  to  different 
charities.     This  I  consider  an  exemplary  act." 

And  again  Nov.  4,  1849:  "I  have  just  returned 
from  church,  where  I  have  all  day  heard  our  good 
Mr.  Ellis.  I  think  he  is  about  the  best  minister  any 
people  ever  had  ;  for  his  good  life  furnishes  a  valu- 
able sermon  every  day.  He  is  all  the  time  at  work 
for  the  good  of  society,  and  I  think  his  loss  would  be 
felt  almost  as  much  among  the  other  societies  as  in 
ours.  He  examines  one  school  and  its  teachers  once 
a  week,  taking  the  different  ones  in  the  order ;  so 
that  he  stimulates  both  the  teachers  and  the  taught 
to  do  their  best.  And  it  has  superinduced  a  degree 
of  vigilance  that  we  have  never  experienced  before, 
with  a  corresponding  degree  of  excellence." 

Tuesday,  Dec.  21,  1852. 

My  dear  Son, —  It  filled  my  heart  with  joy  and 
gratitude  to  get  the  intelligence  I  received  yesterday 
at  three  o'clock,  through  Joseph.  What  I  had  heard 
the  day  before  was  the  cause  of  a  good  deal  of  solici- 
tude, and  I  was  looking  with  great  anxiety  for  farther 
intelligence,  when  Joseph  came  over.  I  hope  there 
will  be  no  obstacles  to  prevent  Sarah  from  a  speedy 
recovery.  You  must  begin  to  feel  very  rich,  as  well 
as  proud  of  your  possessions,  with  two  boys  to  look 
after ;  and  I  hope  you  will  be  as  lucky  as  I  have 
been.  I  see  you  laughing  in  your  sleeve  at  the  poor 
old  lady's  vain-glory,  and  I  wish  you  may  have  as 
much  cause  for  glorification  at  my  age.  I  must  tell 
you  one  thing  :  I  did  something  to  earn  all  the  satis- 
faction  I  shall  have  ;  but  it  will  take   a  number  of 


PRIDE  IN  HER  GRANDSONS  411 

years  to  get  to  the  "  swellings  of  Jordan."  There  will 
be  care  for  the  hands  a  good  while  before  you  get  to 
the  cares  of  the  heart.  But  parents  have  every  en- 
couragement, and  great  promise  of  reward  in  all  they 
do  for  their  children.  It  yields  a  great  interest  for 
the  capital.  .  .  . 

Your  very  affectionate  Mother. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

With  gradual  gleam  the  day  was  dawning, 
Some  lingering  stars  were  seen, 

When  swung  the  garden  gate  behind  us, — 
He  fifty,  I  fifteen. 

The  high-topped  chaise  and  old  gray  pony 

Stood  waiting  in  the  lane : 
Idly  my  father  swayed  the  whip-lash, 

Lightly  he  held  the  rein. 

The  stars  went  softly  back  to  heaven, 

The  night-fogs  rolled  away, 
And  rims  of  gold  and  crowns  of  crimson 

Along  the  hill-tops  lay. 

That  morn,  the  fields,  they  surely  never 

So  fair  an  aspect  wore; 
And  never  from  the  purple  clover 

Such  perfume  rose  before. 

O'er  hills  and  low  romantic  valleys, 
And  flowery  by-roads  through, 

I  sang  my  simplest  songs,  familiar, 
That  he  might  sing  them  too. 

Our  souls  lay  open  to  all  pleasure, 

No  shadow  came  between  ; 
Two  children,  busy  with  their  leisure, — 

He  fifty,  I  fifteen. 


As  on  my  couch  in  languor,  lonely, 

T  weave  beguiling  rhyme, 
Comes  back  with  strangely  sweet  remembrance 

That  far-removed  time. 


JUDGE  LYMAN'S  MORNING  WALKS        413 

The  slow-paced  years  have  brought  sad  changes 

That  morn  and  this  between  ; 
And  now,  on  earth,  my  years  are  fifty, 

And  his,  in  heaven,  fifteen. 

"Atlantic  Monthly." 


MEMORY  takes  me  back  with  grateful  thoughts 
to  a  period  behind  the  letters  in  the  last 
chapter, —  to  the  years  1839  and  1840,  when  I  re- 
turned from  Mr.  Emerson's  school  in  Boston,  to 
find  my  dear  father  still  vigorous  and  unimpaired, 
though  seventy-three  years  of  age.  The  exquisite 
little  poem  that  heads  this  chapter  has  always 
brought  this  time  so  vividly  before  me,  so  much 
more  vividly  than  any  words  of  mine  can  do,  that 
I  could  not  help  inserting  them  ;  although  in  our 
case  it  would  have  come  nearer  the  truth  to  say, 
"  He  seventy,  I  seventeen," —  at  least,  for  all  but 
the  last  two  verses. 

He  rose  very  early  in  the  summer  time, —  seldom 
later  than  four  o'clock, —  and  it  was  his  custom  to 
take  a  long  walk,  rarely  returning  home  before  six. 
I  often  rose  and  took  these  walks  with  him  ;  and 
they  have  left  a  sweet  remembrance  that  is  like 
a  treasure  laid  up  in  heaven,  lie  delighted  in  the 
natural  beauties  of  our  village ;  liked  to  take  me  to 
Round  Hill,  and,  if  possible,  to  reach  there  before 
the  sunrise.  The  mists  in  the  valleys  below,  the 
mountain-tops  above,  were  a  pure  delight  to  him. 
His  memory  was  stored  with  old-fashioned  poetry, 
which  he  often  repeated  as  we  walked  through  the 
quiet  streets,  where  the  closed  houses  still  held  their 
sleeping  inmates.     Sometimes  he  told  me  old  tales 


414  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

of  the  dwellers  in  those  homes,  or  of  their  fore- 
fathers, whom  he  had  known  as  a  child  ;  sometimes 
he  repeated  to  me  long  passages  of  Pope's  "  Essay- 
on  Man,"  or  Gray's  "  Elegy  in  a  Country  Church- 
yard." 

In  the  long  summer  afternoons,  he  took  me  in 
the  chaise  all  round  the  outskirts  of  the  village. 
He  had  a  quaint,  old-fashioned  set  of  terms  with 
which  he  addressed  his  horse,  which  I  have  never 
heard  any  one  else  use.  But  the  horse  seemed  to 
understand  and  like  them.  Sometimes  we  drove 
through  Hadley  and  Hatfield  ;  crossed  the  river  by 
the  beautiful  wire  ferry ;  came  home  under  the 
mountain  in  the  ravishing  light  of  those  valley  sun- 
sets. Sometimes  we  drove  to  the  Factory,  to  see 
sister  Jane,  and  took  tea  there,  returning  home  in 
the  full  moonlight.  How  glad  was  every  one  to  see 
him,  wherever  he  might  go !  Truly,  "  when  the 
eye  saw  him  it  blessed  him,  and  when  the  ear  heard 
him  it  took  knowledge  of  him."  At  home,  his 
presence  made  every  room  he  entered  "  the  cham- 
ber called  Peace." 

And  here,  my  dear  girls,  let  me  endeavor  to  call  up 
from  memory  a  picture  of  one  day  of  my  mother's 
life  at  this  period.  One  impression  pervades  all 
my  thoughts  of  her  at  that  time ;  it  is  one  of 
breeziness,  overflowing  life  and  good-cheer  for  all 
who  came  within  the  circle  of  her  influence;  an 
immense  healthfulness  of  soul  and  body,  that  some- 
how made  others  feel  well  and  cheerful  also,  as  if 
upborne  by  her  own  strong  spirit. 

It  is  the  gray  dawn  of  a  summer's  day,  and  she 


A  MATIN  SONG  415 

is  already  up  and  doing,  though  the  rest  of  her 
large  family  —  all  but  my  father  —  are  in  their 
deepest  sleep.  Not  for  worlds  would  she  rouse 
them;  this  is  her  hour, —  her  opportunity.  After 
the  clear,  cold  bath  in  which  she  revels  (it  was 
always  fine  to  hear  her  discourse  eloquently  on  the 
magnetic  effect  of  fresh  water),  she  dresses  in  a 
short  skirt  and  white  sacque ;  and,  with  broom  and 
duster,  goes  to  her  parlors  and  dining-room,  which 
are  in  plentiful  disorder  from  last  evening's  gather- 
ings. She  opens  the  windows  wide  in  all  the  rooms, 
to  let  in  the  sweet  morning  air.  Listening,  as 
usual,  to  the  song  of  the  robins  that  frequent  the 
elm  trees  all  around,  her  fine  ear  catches  a  new 
note,  long-drawn,  sweet  and  various.  Instantly, 
broom  and  duster  are  dropped,  and  she  hastens  out 
into  the  side-yard,  and  looks  up  into  the  acacia 
trees  to  discover  her  new  favorite.  "  I  have  found 
him,"  she  cries;  "the  most  beautiful  creature  in 
the  whole  world,  and  the  most  exquisite  singer. 
I  shall  write  to  Mr.  Peabody  this  very  day,  and  find 
out  who  he  is."  She  returns  to  her  work.  The 
two  parlors,  dining-room,  entry  and  staircase  are 
all  carefully  and  thoroughly  swept  before  six  o'clock. 
She  then  calls  up  her  two  domestics,  if  they  are  not 
already  up.  "  How  light  and  airy  are  all  her  move- 
ments !  how  strange  that  so  large  a  woman  should 
have  so  elastic  a  tread  ! "  we  used  to  say.  She  now 
returns  to  her  room,  and  puts  on  the  clean  calico 
morning-dress  and  white  cap  and  collar,  which  is 
her  usual  garb  until  late  in  the  day.  There  are 
still  some  moments  before  the  large  family  assemble 


4i 6  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

for  breakfast,  and  no  one  ever  saw  her  waste  that 
time.  Her  large  basket  of  darning  always  stood'  in 
a  corner  of  the  room,  ready  to  be  attacked  when 
other  work  failed ;  and  she  darned  the  stockings  of 
the  whole  family, —  the  servants'  and  the  hired 
man's,  as  well  as  those  of  her  husband,  children, 
and  nieces.  '  For,"  she  said,  "  it  is  the  one  way  to 
save  them  time,  trouble,  and  expense.  I  like  to  do 
it,  and  they  never  do  it  well."  We  had  one  girl 
named  Maria,  who  had  lived  with  us  some  years,  and 
was  about  to  leave  us  to  accompany  her  family  to 
another  town.  On  the  morning  of  her  departure, 
she  appeared  at  the  parlor  door,  holding  up  the 
foot  of  an  old  black-silk  stocking,  so  darned  that 
the  original  fabric  was  hardly  discoverable.  "  Mrs. 
Lyman,  may  I  take  this  with  me?"  she  said;  "I 
found  it  in  the  rag-bag."  "Why,  certainly,  Maria; 
but  what  can  you  want  that  old  stocking  for  ? " 
"  Why,  I  want  to  show  the  folks  where  I  go  Mrs. 
Judge  Lyman's  embroidery"  said  Maria ;  and,  chok- 
ing down  a  tender  emotion,  she  added,  "  and  I'll 
tell  'em  she  mended  ours  just  as  good  as  all  the 
ladies'." 

Perhaps  she  darned  stockings  till  the  breakfast- 
bell  rang,  or  else  she  took  the  book  that  always 
lay  in  the  basket,  underneath  her  stockings, —  some 
good  history,  or  book  of  ethics,  or  the  last  "  North 
American."  Or,  if  there  were  time,  she  wrote  to 
Mr.  Peabody  and  described  her  bird ;  and  got  for 
answer,  by  next  day's  mail,  that  it  was  "the  rose- 
breasted  grossbeak."  How  its  long  name  delighted 
her  heart !  it  was  worthy  the  beauty  of  her  singer. 


THE  CHEER  OE  HER  PRESENCE  4*7 

Breakfast  comes.  How  often  in  summer-time  it 
assembled  fifteen  or  twenty  happy  souls  around  that 
hospitable  board !  When  my  dear  father  came,  his 
presence  brought  benediction,  peace,  and  love,  as 
much  as  hers  gave  warmth  and  cheer.  The  break- 
fast was  always  simple,  but  abundant, —  tea  and 
coffee,  broiled  fish  or  steak,  bread,  and  some  kind 
of  pudding  for  the  children,  to  be  eaten  with  milk 
or  cream.  After  breakfast,  a  chapter  in  the  Bible 
and  prayers  were  read.  Then  my  mother  had  water 
brought,  and  with  many  aids  among  children,  grand- 
children, and  nieces  the  dishes  were  washed,  silver 
cleaned,  and  table  cleared  in  an  incredibly  short 
space  of  time.  After  this,  she  was  very  apt  to  take 
her  seat  near  the  front  door,  partly  because  of  her 
social  spirit,  which  made  her  love  to  greet  the 
passers-by,  or  send  messages  to  her  neighbors  ;  and 
partly  because  father  liked  to  sit  there,  and  for  the 
same  reasons.  She  had  always  the  basket  of  darn- 
ing beside  her,  and  the  book,  and  my  father  had  the 
newspapers  which  he  read  aloud  to  her,  or  she  to 
him  ;  and  they  discussed  in  a  truly  amusing  way  the 
events  or  the  politics  of  the  day, —  for  he  had  a  rare 
and  sweet  humor,  and  she  had  keen  wit,  and  peals 
of  merry  laughter  were  often  heard  from  the  stairs, 
or  the  two  parlors,  whose  doors  into  the  entry  always 
stood  open,  and  where  groups  of  children  and  vis- 
itors collected.  At  this  time,  my  mother  always 
had  the  peas  brought  her  to  shell  for  dinner,  or  the 
beans  to  string.  And  I  have  seen  her  go  on  with 
these  occupations  unmoved  and  without  apology, 
while  distinguished  visitors  came  and  went, —  Baron 


4 1 S  RECOLLE  CTIONS  OE  M  Y  MO  THER 

Rcenne,  perhaps,  or  Judges  of  the  Supreme  Court, — 
she  conversing  all  the  time  with  each  and  all,  in 
the  most  brilliant  way.  A  touch  of  the  bell  scarce 
interrupting  the  flow  of  her  ideas,  she  would  hand 
her  pails  and  pans  of  vegetables,  nicely  prepared, 
to  the  little  maid  who  came  at  her  call,  and  go  on 
with  her  inevitable  darning. —  It  was  seldom  that 
the  large  family  sat  down  to  meals  without  addi- 
tional guests.  Any  one  that  dropped  in  was  invited 
to  remain ;  any  one  passing  the  front  door  who 
looked  weary  was  asked    to    stop.     "Another  plate 

for   Mr.  or    Mrs.  ,"  called  my  mother  cheerily 

to  her  little  maid,  without  a  thought  of  trouble ;  as, 
indeed,  there  was  none. 

Although  she  darned  beautifully,  she  was  not 
an  exquisite  seamstress,  and  sometimes  tried  the 
patience  of  her  children  and  young  friends  by  want 
of  nicety.  So  in  derision  we  called  her  sewing 
"the  Goblin  Tapestry."  But  in  truth  she  had  too 
many  garments  to  make  and  mend,  to  give  much 
thought  to  any  thing  but  the  strength  and  durabil- 
ity of  her  work  ;  and  in  some  particulars  she  was 
wanting  in  taste.  I  recall  a  young  girl  sitting  near 
her  one  day  with  some  exquisite  embroidery  in  her 
hand.  "  Now,  Mrs.  Lyman,  is  not  this  lovely  ?  "  she 
said.  "  Well,  I  dare  say  it  is,  my  dear,"  was  the 
quick  reply,  "but  life  has  never  been  long  enough 
for  me  to  embroider  a  flannel  petticoat." 

And  yet  with  seeming  inconsistency  she  took 
great  pains  to  have  one  temporary  inmate  of  the 
family  taught  to  embroider;  and,  when  a  friend 
remarked  upon  it,  and  said,   "  Why,  Mrs.  Lyman,  I 


PLAIN  LIVING  AND  HIGH  THINKING       419 

always  thought  you  believed  in  having  young  people 
cultivate  their  minds  before  all  things  ?"  she  lowered 
her  voice,  but  said  in  an  emphatic  whisper,  "  My 
dear,  tliat  girl  wouldn't  read, —  not  if  you  were  to  set 
her  down  in  the  Bodleian  Library  for  the  rest  of  her 
life.     You  can't  put  a  quart  into  a  pint  cup." 

At  one  o'clock  came  dinner  ;  always  a  large  joint, 
roast  or  boiled,  with  plenty  of  vegetables  and  few 
condiments, —  for  she  thought  them  unwholesome, 
—  good  bread  and  butter,  and  a  plain  pudding  or  pie. 
I  think  her  idea  about  food  as  well  as  clothing  was, 
that  there  was  but  one  object  in  it, —  to  support 
and  sustain  the  body  in  the  one  case,  to  cover  and 
keep  it  warm  in  the  other.  And  so  she  never  dis- 
cussed or  encouraged  discussion  of  anything  belong- 
ing to  them.  To  have  interrupted  the  fine  conver- 
sation at  that  dinner-table,  by  any  dwelling  upon 
the  flavor  or  quality  of  the  viands  set  before  any  of 
us,  would  have  appeared  to  both  my  father  and 
mother  as  the  height  of  vulgarity;  and  I  have  never 
been  able  to  get  used  to  it  at  other  tables.  The 
same  feeling  led  them  always  to  avoid  any  conversa- 
tion about  their  domestic  concerns  or  troubles,  and 
this  from  the  highest  motives.  One  whose  name 
is  a  household  word  in  many  lands  once  said,  after  a 
two  weeks'  visit  at  their  house,  "  Oh,  I  liked  to  stay 
with  Mrs.  Lyman,  for  she  had  no  kitchen!"  I 
remember  well  her  sitting  in  apparent  abstraction 
and  silence  for  a  good  hall -hour,  while  two  neighbors 
discussed  the  enormities  oi  their  servants.  At  last, 
anxious    for    her    sympathy,    they    appealed    to   her. 


420  '        RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

She  rose  from  her  seat,  sighed  wearily  as  she  gath- 
ered up  her  work  to  depart,  and  said  emphatically, 
"I  see  no  perfection  in  the  parlor,  I  don't  know  why 
I  should  expect  it  in  the  kitchen." 

In  the  afternoon,  my  dear  mother  allowed  herself 
a  long  siesta,  and  came  from  her  room  about  four, 
or  a  half-hour  later,  with  renewed  brightness  and 
cheerfulness.  Then  the  windows  of  the  west  parlor 
attracted  her,  and  there  the  young  members  of  the 
family  delighted  to  join  her.  Her  pleasure  in  the 
society  of  the  young  was  unbounded,  and  her  entire 
sympathy  with  them  led  her  to  draw  out  the  best 
in  them  at  all  times.  Especially,  if  she  found  any 
young  person  with  a  strong  desire  for  acquiring 
knowledge,  she  never  lost  sight  of  the  intellectual 
stimulus  to  be  applied,  and  never  rested  till  she  had 
found  means  to  supply  the  want.  How  many  admi- 
rable books  we  read  aloud  to  her  in  those  long  sum- 
mer afternoons,  she  often  stopping  us  to  impress 
some  deeper  application  of  the  author's  thought 
upon  our  minds,  or  taking  the  book  from  our  hands 
to  read  over  again,  in  her  own  impressive  way,  some- 
thing that  we  had  made  poor  and  tame  by  our  ren- 
dering !  And  with  that  large  hospitality  that  often 
made  it  impossible  for  her  to  enjoy  any  great 
thought  alone,  or  with  her  own  family  alone,  she 
would  note  the  passers-by  as  we  read ;  and  many  a 
good  neighbor,  or  young,  intellectual  starveling  has 
been  beckoned  in,  "just  to  hear  this  rich  passage  we 
are  reading,  it  won't  take  long." 

Ah  !  can  we  ever  restore  the  flavor  of  her  evening 


IDEAL  EVENING  PARTIES  421 

parties,  where  young  and  old,  high  and  low,  met  on 
the  fine  footing  that  her  perfect  disinterestedness 
and  full  animal  spirits  alone  made  possible  ?  No  ! 
not  alone  ;  for  the  saintly  spirit  that  moved  beside 
her,  invited  this  large  hospitality  even  more  than 
she;  and  what  her  greater  impetuosity  sometimes 
failed  to  do,  his  unfailing  gentleness  and  dignity 
combined  made  possible,  and  the  result  of  all  the 
household  entertainments  was  as  perfect  as  heart 
could  desire.  We  had  parties  two  or  three  evenings 
in  the  week  in  summer-time ;  indeed,  the  neighbors 
thought  we  had  parties  all  the  time.  But,  for  the 
most  part,  they  were  informal  gatherings.  In  the 
old  stage-coach  days,  my  father  always  saw  every 
friend  or  stranger  of  distinction  that  arrived  at  the 
taverns ;  and,  if  he  reported  directly  to  my  mother, 
she  scarcely  waited  till  morning  to  call  in  her  friends 
and  neighbors  for  the  next  evening,  and  to  make 
ready  her  parlors  for  guests  the  next  forenoon.  If 
it  was  to  be  a  tea-party,  she  had  only  to  order  an 
abundant  supply  of  tea  and  coffee,  with  thin  slices 
of  bread  and  butter  doubled,  sponge-cake  made  by 
the  daughters  before  breakfast,  and  thin  slices  of 
cold  tongue  or  ham  ;  if  an  evening  party,  the  lemon- 
ade and  cake  and  wine  in  summer,  and  the  nuts 
and  raisins  and  fine  apples  in  winter,  furnished  the 
simple  but  sufficient  entertainment.  I  recall  the 
zest  and  avidity  with  which  she  planned  these 
evenings  in  which  one  thought  rose  above  all  others, 
—  to  give  pleasure,  not  to  get  it  for  herself.  How 
she  remembered  every  one,  especially  the  young  and 
the  shy  and  the  restricted,  whose  opportunities  for 


422  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

society  were  small,  and  who  would,  therefore,  be 
most  benefited  ! 

"  Go  tell  M.  and  C.  and  A.,"  she  would  say  to  one 

of  us,  "  that  Mr.  and  Mrs. and  Judge ,  from 

Boston,  will  be  here  this  evening,  and  I  want  them 
all  to  come  ;  they  will  hear  good  talking."  And, 
though  she  impressed  on  us  all  the  duty  of  doing 
our  part  towards  the  entertainment  of  guests,  she 
also  taught  us  that  a  part  of  the  value  of  society  to 
the  young  consisted  in  being  good  listeners.  In 
short,  her  one  idea  was  to  bring  together  the  good 
and  wise,  who  would  be  sure  to  enjoy  conversation, 
and  then  collect  a  troop  of  young  people  about  them, 
who  must  be  benefited  by  contact  with  superior 
minds. 

"No  one  ever  declines  going  to  Mrs.  Lyman's 
parties,"  was  the  common  remark;  "indeed,  she  has 
always  more  than  she  asks,  for  everybody  knows 
they  can  take  their  friends  there!' 

Occasionally,  we  had  a  party  a  little  more  stately 
than  the  rest.  Such  was  the  annual  court-week 
party,  when  all  the  judges  of  the  Supreme  Court, 
and  their  wives  and  daughters,  with  the  younger  law- 
yers, and  friends  from  all  parts,  filled  the  house.  At 
such  times,  all  the  daughters  of  the  house  were  en- 
gaged for  two  or  three  days  in  the  preparations,  and 
the  result  seemed  to  us  magnificent. 

My  mother  so  often  alludes  to  "court-week"  in 
her  letters,  that  I  cannot  but  recall  what  a  delight- 
ful time  it  was  to  my  sister  and  myself.  As  little 
children,  we  had  been  allowed  to  sit  up  to  the  seven- 
o'clock  tea,  which  was  handed  round,  and  we  did  not 


FESTIVITIES  OF  "  CO UR  T-  WEEK  "  423 

go  to  bed  till  eight.  What  a  week  was  that !  How, 
in  the  morning,  we  all  ran  to  the  window,  when  the 
rapid  ringing  of  the  court-bell  announced  the  coming 
of  the  Judges  !  My  father  always  went  to  the  hotel 
to  escort  them  into  court,  and  the  procession  had 
to  pass  our  house.  Father  and  the  chief  justice 
came  first,  my  father  bearing  his  high-sheriff's  staff 
of  office ;  then  Judge  Wilde  and  Judge  Putnam, 
Judge  Metcalf  and  Judge  Williams,  Mr.  Octavius 
Pickering  and  a  troop  of  lawyers,  two  and  two,  with 
green  bags.  They  always  dined  with  us  once  or 
twice  during  the  week,  and  some  or  all  of  them  took 
tea  every  evening ;  besides  our  having  one  large 
party  for  them,  taking  in  half  the  town.  I  always, 
as  a  child,  had  a  feeling  about  Chief-Justice  Shaw, 
as  if  he  were  the  Great  Mogul,  or  the  Grand  Panjan- 
drum, or  something  of  that  sort ;  and  the  tone  of 
absolute  reverence  with  which  my  father  spoke  of 
him  increased  the  effect.  He  was  often  very  silent, 
and  was  subject  to  "hay  fever"  when  he  went  on 
the  circuit,  and  was  probably  tired  also  in  the  even- 
ing, for  he  sat  with  his  head  lowered,  which  gave 
him  the  appearance  of  having  his  eyes  closed.  Once 
I  crept  up  behind  my  father's  chair,  and  whis- 
pered :  — 

"  Father,  is  the  chief  justice  asleep  ?" 
"Oh,  no,   my  little  pigeon,"  was   the   reply;  "far 
from    it  !     Why,     he    is    thinking     the    profoundest 
thoughts  that  ever  pass  through  the  mind  of  man." 

This  made  a  deep  impression  on  my  mind,  and  I 
crept  back  into  my  corner,  longing  to  know  what 
those  "profoundest  thoughts"  might  be. 


424  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

And  when  we  had  grown  to  womanhood,  and  left 
the  dream-land  of  childhood  far  behind,  court-week 
still  remained  invested  with  the  early  halo  ;  and  the 
coming  of  the  judges,  with  their  excellent  and  intelli- 
gent families  and  friends,  while  it  brought  us  abun- 
dant work,  gave  us  the  constant  reward  of  delight- 
ful society. 

I  recall  those  days  now,  when  my  mother  had 
worked  from  early  morning  till  late  of  a  hot  sum- 
mer's day,  till  even  her  strong  frame  showed  signs 
of  exhaustion ;  then,  retiring  to  her  room  for  one 
hour  of  rest,  and  appearing  in  the  evening,  dressed 
in  the  "good  gown,"  with  heart-warmth  and  smiles 
and  brilliant  talk  for  every  one.  Was  any  young 
girl  shy  or  ill  at  ease  at  her  parties  ?  —  she  did  not 
then  push  her  forward,  or  insist  on  her  doing  a  task 
for  which  she  was  not  fitted,  and  so  make  the 
evening  a  penance  to  her.  No  !  she  kindly  placed 
her  near  some  group  of  elder  people,  where  the 
conversation  was  earnest  and  the  themes  high  ;  and 
she  knew  the  dear  and  unobtrusive  soul  would  feel 
herself  in  Paradise.  Perhaps  she  would  not  talk 
that  night ;  but  her  mind  and  heart  would  be 
warmed  and  fed,  and  that  would  surely  make  her 
talk  better  at  some  future  day. 

A  friend,  who  once  passed  a  few  weeks  at  the 
house,  gives  me  this  instance  of  her  entire  friendli- 
ness and  sympathy  with  the  young.  She  was  pre- 
paring for  one  of  her  evening  parties,  and  had  got 
as  far  as  arranging  her  flower-pots,  which  were  fear- 
ful to  behold,  for  she  had  never  any  taste  in  floral 
decorations.     Chancing    to    pass    the    window,    she 


HER  DELICATE  SYMPATHY  425 

espied  a  young  girl  whom  she  loved  much,  for  she 
had  many  talents  and  a  warm  heart ;  but,  through 
restricted  circumstances  and  somewhat  careless  hab- 
its, was  not  always  ready  for  enjoyment. 

"  Oh,  S.,"  she  cried,  "  I  am  going  to  have  a  party 
this  evening;  and  all  the  judges  are  to  be  here,  and 
all  the  court-ladies,  and  I  want  you  to  come.  Do 
come,  my  dear  !  " 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Lyman!"  said  the  poor  girl,  looking 
tearfully  down  at  her  feet,  "  how  I  wish  I  could 
come !  But  I  can't,  for  my  shoes  are  all  out  at  the 
toes,  and  this  is  my  only  pair." 

A  pause  of  a  few  minutes,  when  the  good  lady's 
face  brightened; — '"Well,  S.,"  she  said,  "at  least, 
you'll  help  me  get  ready  for  my  party  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  said  the  young  girl,  with  alacrity  ;  and 
she  came  in,  and  in  a  few  hours  had  effected  a  won- 
derful transformation  in  the  rooms,  with  her  tasteful 
hands  and  willing  feet.  Mrs.  Lyman  accompanied 
her  home  when  the  work  was  done,  beguiling  the 
way  with  cheerful  talk.  Somehow,  she  hardly  knew 
how,  they  were  in  the  best  shoe-store  of  the  village ; 
a  pair  of  beautiful  bronze  shoes  were  purchased,  and 
she  had  parted  from  her  friend,  and  ran  gayly  home 
to  dress  for  the  party. 

The  early  restrictions  of  her  comparatively  iso- 
lated life  at  Brush  Hill,  during  her  youth,  always 
gave  her  a  peculiar  sympathy  for  all  young  people 
she  knew,  who  lived  in  a  similar  isolation.  And 
so  when  winter  came  on,  her  thoughts  would  turn 
naturally  to  the  two  families  of  Huntington  and 
Phelps,    whose   beautiful    homes    near    Iladley  were 


426  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

her  delight  in  her  summer  drives,  but  whose  young 
inmates  she  felt  were  sadly  cut  off  from  social  privi- 
leges in  the  long  winters.  "  You  can  never  know," 
said  Mrs.  Bulfinch  to  me  once,  "the  thrill  of  pleas- 
ure that  would  come  to  us  when  we  saw  the  double 
sleigh,  with  Mrs.  Lyman  in  it,  drive  into  our  yard, — 
when  snow-drifts  were  deep,  and  we  had  scarcely 
seen  any  one  for  weeks.  Which  of  us  would  she 
ask  to  go  home  with  her  in  the  sleigh  for  a  long 
visit,  for  we  were  sure  she  would  take  some  of  us  ? 
And  when  we  went,  what  a  welcome  we  had,  and 
what  a  new  life !  Your  dear  father,  and  the  guests 
he  always  collected ;  the  newest  books,  of  which  we 
had  not  heard,  all  lying  on  the  table ;  the  bright 
homeish  parlor !  —  it  seemed  like  being  transferred 
to  an  enchanted  land  !  " 

Born  to  be  leaders  in  society,  the  presence  of  both 
my  father  and  mother  in  that  lovely  village  was  felt 
to  be  a  peculiar  blessing,  because  their  counsels 
always  prevailed  to  bring  about  the  best  sort  of 
democratic  feeling.  They  were  prominent  and  ac- 
tive in  the  support  of  lyceum  lectures,  in  the  get- 
ting up  of  Shakspeare  clubs,  and  the  formation  of 
literary  societies.  If  the  lecturers  were  to  be  poorly 
paid,  they  invited  them  to  stay  at  their  house,  and 
made  up  to  them  in  kindness  and  hospitality  what 
they  lacked  in  fees.  I  recall  one  of  our  Shakspeare 
clubs,  where  there  were  four  or  five  admirable 
readers,  but  a  few  resident  students  from  neighbor- 
ing towns  whose  reading  was  incredibly  bad.  When 
my  mother  took  the  part  of  Portia,  and  Mr.  Frederic 
D.   Huntington    (then   a  youth,  but   now   Bishop  of 


SHAKESPEARE  CLUB  READINGS  427 

the  Central  Diocese  of  New  York)  that  of  Bassanio, 
in  the  "  Merchant  of  Venice,"  every  one  that  could 
came  to  listen.  But  it  must  be  confessed  that  our 
club  was  sometimes  enlivened  by  bad  reading  ;  and 
on  one  occasion,  during  the  play  of  "Hamlet,"  a 
young  man  taking  the  part  of  player  to  the  king 
uttered  himself  in  this  remarkable  way,  "  What's  he 
to  Hce-Xv/z-by  [Hecuba],  or  Hee-/£«/-by  to  him?" 
Of  course,  except  for  the  kind  and  considerate  man- 
ners of  that  little  community,  the  whole  group  of 
listeners  would  have  been  convulsed  with  laughter. 
My  mother  was  as  grave  and  solemn  as  possible, 
till  all  had  left  the  house,  and  then  she  laughed  till 
she  hurt  herself.  Next  day  came  a  discussion  in 
her  presence  as  to  whether  such  readers  should  not 
be  excluded  from  the  club.  "  By  no  means,"  she 
exclaimed,  emphatically ;  "  we  can  all  read  Shak- 
speare  when  and  as  we  please ;  zvc  can  now  and  then 
go  to  Boston  or  New  York,  and  hear  Fanny  Kemble 
or  Charles  Kean  read,  but  to  these  young  people  it 
is  their  only  opportunity.  Let  them  come  and  read 
badly  one  winter;  it  won't  hurt  us.  Then,  next 
winter,  give  them  new  parts,  and  let  them  hear  how 
the  best  readers  render  those  they  have  read.  That 
will  benefit  them  without  hurting  their  feelings." 
And  she  carried  the  day. 

Indeed,  it  seemed  a  curious  fact  to  all  who  knew 
her  warm  temper  and  passionate  nature,  that  she 
rarely  hurt  the  feelings  of  any  one;  and,  when  she 
did,  her  wounds  left  no  sting  behind.  With  a  vast 
power  of  indignation  against  wrong  doers,  a  positive 
hatred  of  any  thing  mean  or  small  or  insincere,  and 


428  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

a  somewhat  undisciplined  and  impetuous  mode  of 
expression  on  occasions  where  her  temper  was 
roused, —  she  was  surely  as  free  from  every  taint  of 
resentment  or  jealousy  or  suspicion,  as  any  human 
being  I  have  ever  seen.  I  remember  reading  aloud 
in  one  of  Mrs.  Stowe's  stories,  where  she  describes 
her  heroine  as  not  being  "  economical  of  her  wrath, 
but  using  it  so  unsparingly,  that  it  was  all  gone 
before  the  time  for  action  came."  "  That's  your 
mother,"  said  my  dear  father,  with  a  sly  smile  ;  and 
though  she  pretended  not  to  hear,  we  knew  she 
did.  She  never  apologized,  that  I  remember  ;  she 
was  too  busy ;  life  was  too  full  for  her,  to  keep 
taking  the  back  track  and  wiping  out  old  scores. 
But  the  rare  tenderness  of  her  manner  to  those  she 
knew  she  had  wounded,  the  warm-hearted  sympathy, 
so  ready  to  begin  a  new  day  in  a  new  way,  if  they 
were  as  willing  to  forget  as  she  was,  was  better  far 
than  a  host  of  excuses.  In  short,  she  never  enjoyed 
the  discussion  of  inevitable  things.  She  could  give 
a  person  a  good  "  setting  down  "  when  excited,  in 
a  few  strong,  terse,  inimitable  words.  But  then  it 
was  done  and  over,  and  she  never  wanted  it  revived. 
And  if  others  were  hesitating  about  any  course 
of  action,  or  quarrelling  over  a  decision,  she  was 
sure  to  settle  the  question  in  a  very  positive  and 
often  sudden  way,  though  with  no  disregard  to  the 
best  rights  of  others.  In  Miss  Bremer's  novel  of 
the  "  Neighbors,"  there  was  much  in  the  character 
of  "Ma  Chere  Mere"  that  reminded  me  of  my 
mother.  Especially  that  little  scene  where,  calling 
in   the  heaven-chariot  to  take  one  of  her  daughters- 


HER  WIT  AXD  READINESS  429 

in-law  to  drive,  she  found  them  both  dressed  and 
ready,  and  bickering  about  which  should  have  pre- 
cedence ;  and  so  she  whipped  up  her  horse,  and 
went  without  either. 

I  do  not  think  that  you,  dear  girls,  who  cannot 
remember  her  tones  of  voice,  her  impressive  manner, 
and  expressive  gestures,  will  ever  be  able  to  form 
an  adequate  idea  of  her  wit,  from  my  poor  showing. 
A  lady,  now  in  middle  life,  tells  me  this  tale  of  her 
youth ;  she  was  a  bright  and  talented  girl,  and  a 
great  favorite  with  my  mother,  who  was  always 
deeply  interested  in  all  that  concerned  her,  both 
her  education  and  her  pleasures.  She  frequently 
spent  whole  days  with  my  mother ;  read  aloud  to 
her,  and  joined  in  all  the  family  occupations  and  di- 
versions. But  she  belonged  to  an  Orthodox  family ; 
and  once,  when  a  revival  of  religion  went  through 
the  village,  S.  "  came  under  conviction,"  as  it  is 
called  ;  and,  being  much  interested  and  occupied 
with  it,  she  naturally  discontinued  her  visits  to  her 
friend  for  a  time.  "One  day,"  she  said,  "when 
I  had  not  seen  Mrs.  Lyman  for  three  months,  I 
was  walking  up  Shop  Row,  and  saw  her  coming 
down  on  the  other  side  of  the  street.  I  thought 
I  would  not  look  that  way,  and  perhaps  she  would 
not  see  me.  Hut  she  darted  across  the  street,  and 
taking  me  by  both  hands  said,  'S.,my  child,  you 
need  not  be  afraid  to  come  and  see  me,  because 
you've  "got  religion  ;"  don't  you  know  you  can't  be 
too  religious?  Get  all  the  religion  yon  can!''  I 
thought  she  had  gone,  but  in  another  moment  she 
had    turned    back,    looked    me    lull    in    the   face,   and 


430  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

said,  impressively,  '  Be  a  good  child,  S.,  and  go  Jiome 
and  brush  your  teeth!  " 

Walking  by  the  Edwards  Church  one  evening, 
as  the  bells  rang  for  a  third  service,  she  remarked 
solemnly  to  her  companion, —  a  stranger  in  the  place, 
"Those  are  the  people  who  are  a  shade  better  than 
we  are  ! "  Coming  from  our  own  church  one  day, 
after  the  clergyman,  a  stranger,  had  been  preaching 
a  sermon  upon  a  personal  devil,  our  neighbor,  Mrs. 
Whitmarsh,  met  her  and  said,  "Why,  Mrs.  Lyman, 
yon  don't  believe  in  a  personal  devil,  do  you  ?  "  "  Of 
course  I  do  !  I  couldn't  keep  house  a  day  without 
him  !  "  was  the  emphatic  answer. 

It  was  not  always  what  she  said,  that  caused  the 
laugh  that  so  often  followed  her  lightest  remarks. 
It  was  the  tone  of  voice,  the  inimitable  gesture,  the 
lifting  of  her  eyebrows,  the  waving  of  her  hand,  the 
mock  solemnity, —  that  carried  away  her  hearers  with 
an  irresistible  flood  of  merriment.  And  these  tones 
and  gestures  were  so  wholly  her  own,  such  a  simple 
and  unconscious  possession,  that  it  is  impossible 
to  describe  them.  At  a  sewing  circle  one  night, 
before  the  days  of  gas,  the  hostess  was  worrying 
over  the  poor  light  from  her  astral  lamp.  She  tried 
various  expedients,  but  all  to  no  purpose,  and  she 
grew  more  and  more  worried.  A  hand  was  laid  on 
her  arm,  and  the  audible  whisper  sent  a  smile  all 
round  the  room:  "The  law  of  the  lamp  has  been 
violated,"  said  Mrs.  Lyman;  "that's  all  the  matter." 

One  morning  a  gentleman,  a  stranger,  walked 
into  Warner's  tavern,  and  accosted  "  mine  host," — • 
at  the  same  time  laughing  heartily.      "  1  was  walking 


HER  DELIGHT  IN  CHILDREN  431 

past  a  house  just  above  here,"  he  said,  "when  an 
elderly  lady  without  any  bonnet,  and  carrying  a 
large  feather  fan,  with  which  she  fanned  herself 
vigorously,  passed  me.  I  saw  that  some  portions 
of  the  fence  had  been  broken,  and  I  stooped  down 
and  laid  the  pieces  carefully  together.  I  felt  a  hand 
laid  on  my  shoulder,  and  a  voice  said,  '  Sir,  you're  a 
Christian  feller  cretur!*  I  looked  up,  and  it  was 
the  same  pleasant-looking  lady  I  had  seen  walking 
up  and  down."  "Oh,"  said  Mr.  Warner,  "it's  easy 
to  tell  you  who  that  was  !  Nobody  in  our  village 
talks  that  way  but  Mrs.  Judge  Lyman." 

Her  views  on  the  education  of  children  were 
strong  and  characteristic.  She  loved  young  chil- 
dren with  enthusiastic  devotion,  enjoyed  in  the 
heartiest  way  every  beauty  or  attraction  they  pos- 
sessed, and  fairly  revelled  in  the  presence  of  a  baby. 
I  never  saw  but  two  persons  who  delighted  in  a 
baby  as  she  did.  One  was  our  minister's  wife,  Mrs. 
Hall;  and  the  other,  our  cousin,  Emma  Forbes. 
Whenever  a  new  baby  appeared  at  the  Halls',  my 
mother  would  come  home  in  a  state  of  rapture. 
Mrs.  Hall  would  say  to  her,  "Now,  you  see,  Mrs. 
Lyman,  this  is  really  the  best  and  sweetest  baby  I 
have  had  yet  ;  he  is  so  pretty,  I  really  feel  as  if  I 
ought  to  give  him  away  ;  he  is  too  good  for  me  to 
keep."  And  this  hearty  gratitude  for  the  new  gift 
met  with  the  fullest  response  in  her  good  neighbor's 
heart. 

She  noted  the  peculiar  traits  of  her  children,  re- 
joiced in  their  individualities,  delighted  in  their 
original  remarks;  but  she  "kept  all  these  things  in 


432  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

her  heart,  and  pondered  them."  No  one  ever  heard 
her  call  attention  to  them,  or  repeat  any  thing  they 
had  said,  in  their  presence.  In  fact,  she  was  so 
fearful  that  others  might  be  less  careful  than  her- 
self, that  she  did  not  often  speak  of  them  to  her 
friends,  and  it  has  been  an  amazement  to  us  to  find 
so  many  references  to  us  in  her  letters.  A  child's 
simplicity  and  unconsciousness  were  more  sacred  to 
her  than  to  any  one  I  have  ever  known,  and  she 
guarded  them  with  a  jealous  care  I  have  never  seen 
surpassed.  Always  ready  to  sympathize  with  and 
approve  them,  she  yet  never  allowed  herself  or 
others  to  express  admiration  of  children  in  their 
presence, —  either  of  their  beauty  or  their  attractive 
ways,  or  their  efforts  to  please.  I  can  remember 
the  indignation  she  once  expressed  when  some 
neighbors  stopped  at  the  front  door,  and  showed 
undisguised  admiration  for  the  unconscious  little 
beauty  who  sat  there  eating  her  bread  and  milk. 
Afterwards,  in  reading  what  our  Lord  said,  in 
Matthew  xviii.,  6,  "Whoso  shall  offend  one  of  these 
little  ones,"  &c,  she  exclaimed  forcibly,  "They  do 
it  all  the  time, —  the  people  that  flatter  simple  and 
innocent  children,  and  destroy  their  natural  uncon- 
sciousness and  humility."  She  had  always  great 
faith  in  keeping  children  in  a  rather  humble  and 
subordinate  position ;  but  entirely  on  their  own 
account,  and  from  strong  conviction  that  it  would 
be  a  help  to  them  all  through  the  journey  of  life. 
So  she  dressed  them  in  the  plainest  clothes,  taught 
them  always  to  be  ready  to  give  up  personal  ease  or 
pleasure  for   the   sake   of   older   people,  and   wished 


SIX  YARDS  OF  MORTIFICATION  433 

them  to  show  deference  at  all  times  to  superiors. 
I  think  in  the  matter  of  dress  she  sometimes  erred, 
—  partly  from  her  own  lack  of  taste.  But  the  prin- 
ciple with  her  was  a  fine  one.  It  arose  from  her 
great  dislike  to  give  prominence  to  the  external  in 
any  thing.  It  may  be  questioned,  however,  if  a  fair 
amount  of  time  and  thought  bestowed  on  dress  does 
not  confer  pleasure  of  a  high  order  on  others  ;  and 
almost  all  children  have  such  delight  in  pretty 
clothes,  that  it  is  possible  to  produce  more  thought 
about  them  in  a  child's  mind  who  is  denied  the  exer- 
cise of  taste,  than  would  exist  where  a  certain 
amount  of  care  was  bestowed  on  it.  But  her  view 
was  on  the  whole  a  noble  one, —  in  her  who  valued 
the  soul  so  much  more  highly  than  the  body,  and 
who  wanted  to  make  a  purse,  that  would  have 
sufficed  to  dress  her  own  children  handsomely,  help 
to  supply  the  necessities  of  life  to  many  others. 

I  well  remember  a  certain  indigo-blue  print, 
covered  with  white  stars,  very  much  worn  by  chil- 
dren in  orphan  asylums,  and  by  working  people. 
It  was  our  detestation,  and  so  my  mother  dubbed 
the  material  "mortification."  I  had  never  heard 
any  other  name  for  it,  and  did  not  suppose  it  had 
any  other.  We  had  our  fresh  white  dresses  and 
blue  ribbons  for  Sundays  or  for  company,  but  on 
working  days,  "let  all  children  eat  humble  pie," 
was  my  mother's  maxim  ;  and  in  many  respects  it 
was  a  good  one.  And  so,  one  day  when  I  was 
eight  years  old,  I  was  sent  to  the  store  to  buy  six 
yards  of  the  hated  fabric  to  make  an  every-day 
dress.      "  Please,  sir,"  said  I,  sadly,  to  the  clerk  who 


434  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

made  his  appearance,  "have  you  any  blue  mortifica- 
tion?" "No!  I  never  heard  of  it,"  was  the  quick 
reply.  My  spirits  rose,  and  I  was  about  to  leave 
the  store,  when  I  almost  stumbled  over  a  pile  of 
the  very  goods.  Conscience  was  too  strong  for  me. 
"This  is  it,"  I  said  timidly.  I  heard  a  suppressed 
giggle  behind  the  counter ;  and  as  the  clerk  meas- 
ured off  six  yards  of  "mortification,"  one  of  the 
partners  said  in  an  audible  whisper,  "  Of  course  it 
ain't  the  name,  but  Mrs.  Lyman  always  gives  her 
own  names  to  every  thing,  and  the  child  don't  know 
any  better." 

I  do  not  think  that  my  mother  ever  had  more 
than  three  dresses  at  any  one  time ;  she  called 
them  "  gowns."  Her  best  dress  was  always  a  very 
handsome  black  silk,  worn  with  simple,  but  fine, 
cap  and  laces.  A  mousseline-de-laine  —  black  or 
gray  —  she  called  her  "every-day  gown;"  and  a  dark 
calico  for  mornings  and  work-days,  she  wore  in  sum- 
mer, and  exchanged  for  a  heavier  material  in  winter. 
The  best  dress  she  always  called  her  "  good  gown  ; " 
and  a  shabbier  dress,  which  she  kept  to  save  the 
best,  she  called  her  "vessel  of  dishonor."  It  took 
one  day  then  to  cut,  fit,  and  finish  off  one  of  her 
gowns ;  she  sitting  with  the  dressmaker,  and  sewing 
the  whole  day.  So  that  three  days  in  the  early 
summer,  and  three  days  in  winter  sufficed  to  con- 
struct her  modest  wardrobe.  And,  oh  !  how  hand- 
some she  was  in  every  dress, —  even  when  she  had 
not  on  the  "  good  gown,"  that  belonged  to  state 
occasions. 

I    thought    her   manners  then,  and  I  think  them 


HER  STA  TEL  Y  MANNERS  435 

now,  after  a  long  review,  the  finest  I  have  ever 
seen,  except  my  father's,  which  were  even  finer, 
having  in  them  the  trace  of  a  life  filled  with  the 
beatitudes.  My  mother  had  a  noble  presence,  and 
what  would  have  been  called  stately  manners,  had 
they  not  been  so  gracious,  so  full  of  friendliness 
and  sympathy,  and  sincere  cordiality.  And  I  cannot 
remember  that  either  she  or  my  father  ever  enjoined 
fine  manners  on  the  many  young  people  they  edu- 
cated ;  or  ever  talked  about  them.  With  them  it 
was  always  the  principle  to  work  from  within  out- 
ward, and  not  the  reverse.  They  believed  that  if  one 
could  make  a  child  perfectly  truthful,  disinterested, 
and  considerate  towards  all  God's  creatures,  fine 
manners  would  be  the  inevitable  and  unconscious 
result.  Both  of  them  despised  conventionalities, 
and  often  taught  us,  both  by  precept  and  example, 
that  appearances  were  naught,  except  as  types  of  an 
interior  reality. 

To  my  mother's  large  view,  the  fine  perspective 
of  life  was  always  kept ;  she  could  not  sacrifice  the 
greater  to  the  less  at  any  time.  I  remember  once, 
when  a  sleighing  party  of  young  people,  hurrying 
to  be  in  time  for  the  railroad-train — which  then 
did  not  come  nearer  to  Northampton  than  Palmer, 
—  drove  up  to  the  friendly  door  for  aid,  because  they 
had  broken  some  part  of  their  harness.  Sitting 
near  the  window,  she  saw  the  dilemma,  and  has- 
tened out.  Being  told  that  they  had  not  a  moment 
to  lose,  and  that  there  were  reasons  of  special 
importance  why  they  should  make  the  train,  she 
despatched    one   child  in  haste  to  the  barn  for  the 


436  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

man,  and  another  to  the  house  for  strong  cords. 
But  no  sooner  had  they  gone  to  obey  her  orders, 
than  a  quicker  expedient  suggested  itself  to  her 
fertile  fancy.  She  raised  her  dress  quietly,  and 
rapidly  whisked  off  her  strong,  knit,  cotton  garters, 
united  the  broken  harness  with  a  firm  weaver's  knot, 
and  waved  off  the  little  party  with  the  air  of  a 
queen.  I  recall  now  their  three  cheers  for  "  the 
good  lady  and  her  garters,"  as  they  drove  down  the 
hill ;  and  she,  standing  in  the  snow,  with  noble 
presence  and  outline,  and  grave  unconsciousness  of 
any  thing  save  satisfaction  that  she  could  help  them. 
My  friend,  Caroline  Clapp,  came  in  on  the  instant. 
"Don't  tell  me,  Caroline,  any  thing  about  elastics" 
she  said ;  "  a  good,  strong,  generous  cotton  garter 
is  worth  the  whole  of  them  in  an  emergency." 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Lyman  can  say  or  do  any  thing  she 
pleases,"  was  the  common  remark.  And  so  she 
could,  because  the  motives  were  always  simple,  and 
single  and  transparent  to  view.  The  worst  as  well  as 
the  best  was  all  to  be  seen  ;  nothing  hidden,  or  com- 
plicated, or  incomprehensible.  I  have  said  that  her 
temper  was  quick  and  warm,  and  her  passions  violent. 
A  friend  has  told  me  this  characteristic  story,  one  of 
many  that  could  be  told,  to  prove  how  wholly  with- 
out resentment  her  nature  was.  When  my  mother 
first  came  to  Northampton,  a  handsome  and  attrac- 
tive person,  full  of  animation,  she  had  been  received 
with  the  utmost  warmth,  both  for  the  sake  of  her 
good  husband,  so  well  beloved,  and  because  her  own 
cordiality  spoke  volumes  in  her  favor.  "  I  thought 
Northampton  a  little  paradise,"  she  said  afterwards 


INABILITY  TO  BEAR  MALICE  437 

to  this  same  young  friend,  "and  that  everybody 
loved  me  as  I  loved  them."  And  in  the  long  run 
this  was  true,  but  it  was  impossible  for  so  ardent 
and  impulsive  a  nature  not  to  offend  sometimes  the 
prepossessions  or  prejudices  of  a  community  where 
she  was  always  the  central  figure.  "And  after  a 
time,"  she  said,  "one  person  whom  I  had  always 
loved,  would  come  and  repeat  to  mc  the  ill  remarks 
of  neighbors  and  friends.  Then  I  said,  '  Get  thee 
behind  me,  for  I  cannot  afford  to  have  my  mind  and 
heart  poisoned  towards  those  I  live  among.'  "  One 
day,  when  a  young  girl  she  loved  was  reading  aloud  to 
her,  this  treacherous  friend  came  in.  "Go,  my  clear," 
said  Mrs.  Lyman,  "and  sit  with  your  book,  by 
the  window,  in  the  next  room."  "I  went,"  said  the 
young  girl,  "but    I   could  not  help  overhearing  the 

conversation,  in  which  Miss repeated  an  opinion 

of  her  held  by  a  family  she  had  loved  very  much, 
and  who,  she  thought,  loved  her,  which  was  so  deroga- 
tory and  untrue,  it  could  not  but  have  been  deeply 
trying  to  her  warm  and  sensitive  heart.  I  could  not 
help  hearing  the  whole,"  said  S.,  "  and  I  thought 
how  angry  Mrs.  Lyman  must  be.  But,  no !  She 
was  just  as  calm,  and  quiet,  and  dignified  as  possible, 
though  she  looked  grieved.  She  heard  Miss  B.  all 
through,  then  she  said  slowly  and  with  subdued 
emotion,  '  I  am  sorry  my  neighbors  think  so  ill  of 
me,  but  I  can't  help  it.  I  shall  never  feel  any  differ- 
ently  towards  them.'  Then  her  voice  rising,  but 
still  calm,  she  added,  'but  you,  B.,  can't  be  my  friend, 
to  want  to  tell  me  such  things,  and  I  don't  care  if 
you  never  enter  my  doors  again.'     Miss  B.  took  her 


438  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

leave   hastily ;  Mrs.    Lyman   called   to    me,   '  Come, 

S ,  read  right  on,  and  let  us  forget  all  about  this 

rubbish,  just  as  fast  as  we  can.'  Her  eyes  were 
tearful,  but  in  five  minutes  she  was  making  cheerful 
comments  on  the  book,  and  I  never  heard  her  allude 
to  the  incident  again.  But  an  event  occurred  soon 
after,  which  fixed  the  whole  scene  more  forcibly 
still  in  my  memory.  Only  a  week  later,  a  malignant 
epidemic  seized  the  family  in  question,  and  two  of 
the  children  were  sick  unto  death.  I  was  sent  by 
my  mother  to  inquire  how  they  were,  but  by  no 
means  to  enter  the  house,  as  the  disease  was  so  con- 
tagious. But  as  I  hovered  near  the  open  doors  and 
windows,  to  my  surprise  I  saw  Mrs.  Lyman  entirely 
absorbed  in  the  care  of  the  sick  children,  though  she 
did  not  see  me.  Then  I  thought  of  the  talk  in  her 
parlor,  so  short  a  time  before,  and  I  said  in  my 
heart,  '  Whatever  her  religion  is,  she  is  a  good  and 
noble  woman  ! '  " 

Late  in  her  life,  she  wrote  a  most  tender  and  lov- 
ing letter  to  her  daughter  Catherine,  in  China,  on 
the  subject  of  her  little  grandchildren  and  their 
education,  and  I  cannot  but  copy  from  it  this  strik- 
ing sentence : — 

"  I  can  well  remember  the  first  time  my  Aunt 
Forbes  (who  was  also  my  godmother)  made  me  re- 
peat after  her  the  sentence,  'I  must  bear  no  malice 
or  hatred  in  my  heart,'  —  together  with  a  number  of 
similar  sentences  which  are  familiar  to  you  ;  I  say 
I  can  well  remember  thinking  that  it  would  be  im- 
possible for  me  to  entertain  either  of  those  senti- 
ments; but  I  am  now  sure  that  the  impression  she 


HER  DEALINGS  WITH  SERVANTS  439 

then  made  has  been  the  means  of  preventing  the 
excess  of  them,  for  she  led  me  to  feel  that  they  were 
as  unworthy  of  one  of  God's  creatures  as  either  lying 
or  theft.  And  I  cannot  doubt  from  practical  experi- 
ence that  it  is  more  natural  for  un perverted  children 
to  receive  good  impressions  than  bad  ones,  and  feel 
no  doubt  in  my  own  mind  that  they  often  imbibe 
when  very  young  the  truest  and  most  refined  moral 
sentiments,  which  take  root  and  grow  with  their 
growth,  and  strengthen  with  their  strength." 

As  another  illustration  of  her  inability  to  hold  on 
to  wrath,  my  friend,  Lucretia  Hale,  recalls  to  me  an 
instance  to  which  we  were  both  witness  once,  when 
she  wras  on  a  visit  at  our  house.  My  mother  always 
had  a  small  servant  in  the  house,  who  acted  in  the 
capacity  of  runner  to  the  whole  family.  She  was 
usually  taken  at  the  age  of  ten  years,  and  kept  till 
fifteen  or  thereabout ;  was  not  only  clothed  com- 
fortably and  treated  with  much  kindness,  but  was 
trained  carefully  for  higher  service,  and  daily  in- 
structed for  an  hour  or  two,  either  by  her  mistress 
or  some  of  her  daughters,  in  reading,  writing,  arith- 
metic, and  geography.  My  mother  had  a  rare  gift 
for  teaching,  and  enjoyed  it  thoroughly.  What  a 
succession  of  these  little  girls  she  taught  to  read 
beautifully  and  understandingly  ;  and  in  spite  of  an 
occasional  bout  with  obstinacy  and  stupidity,  in  which 
however  she  always  came  off  conqueror,  what  an 
excellent  relation  subsisted  between  them  !  It  was 
delightful  to  overhear  some  oi  these  hours  of  instruc- 
tion,—  the  timid  child  slowly  picking  her  way  through 
an  involved  sentence  in  a  perfectly  dry,  jerky,  sing- 


4AO  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

song  tone ;  my  mother  correcting'  with  great  pa- 
tience, but  after  a  time  seizing  the  book  with  impet- 
uosity, and  reading  so  exactly  like  her  young  scholar, 
and  yet  performing  the  imitation  so  good-naturedly, 
that  the  child,  diffident  and  respectful  as  she  always 
was,  could  not  help  laughing  heartily.  "  Now  con- 
sider," she  would  say,  "  if  you  were  relating  this 
fact  to  me  you  have  just  been  reading,  would  you 
do  it  so?"  "No!"  "Well,  read  it  again  to  me 
exactly  as  if  you  were  speaking."  In  this  way,  and 
by  never  allowing  one  word  to  be  passed  over  that 
was  not  perfectly  understood,  both  as  to  meaning 
and  derivation,  she  made  a  large  number  of  excellent 
readers.  It  was  an  inestimable  service  to  these 
poor  children,  and  in  after  life  they  duly  appreciated 
it.  The  last  child  my  mother  took  in  this  capacity 
was  Letitia,  who,  bearing  a  striking  resemblance  to 
the  same  character  in  Dickens,  commonly  went  by 
the  name  of  the  Marchioness.  Now,  the  Marchion- 
ess was  as  good  as  gold  and  faithful  to  all  require- 
ments, but  like  many  another  child  of  ten  years, 
when  work  was  done,  she  liked  a  little  mischief. 
One  afternoon  in  the  late  autumn,  my  mother  saun- 
tered out  to  see  some  of  her  neighbors,  wearing 
her  large  calash  and  cape  that  always  hung  on  the 
tree  in  the  front  entry,  to  be  in  readiness  for  such 
impromptu  expeditions.  When  she  had  gone,  the 
Marchioness,  unwisely  calculating  that  the  expedi- 
tion would  last  some  hours,  decided  on  a  round  of 
visits  among  her  own  acquaintance,  although  it  was 
a  day  on  which  the  cook  was  absent.  Moreover, 
having  a  taste  for  elegance,  she  went  to  her  mis- 


ANECDOTE  OF  THE  "MARCHIONESS"      44* 

tress's  closet,  took  out  her  best  black-silk  bonnet 
and  nice  Cashmere  shawl,  and  arrayed  herself  in 
them.  Nothing  could  be  more  absurd  than  the 
grotesque  little  figure,  dressed  in  the  elderly  lady's 
best,  that  my  friend  and  I  saw  hurrying  off  through 
the  side-yard  at  twilight,  too  late  to  stop  her  pro- 
ceedings. So  we  resolved  together  to  say  nothing. 
The  fates  decreed  that  my  mother  should  find  most 
of  her  neighbors  absent  that  afternoon,  so  she  re- 
turned home  very  soon  after  the  Marchioness  had 
disappeared,  and  soon  became  absorbed  in  a  book 
she  was  reading.  Presently  my  father  came  in,  and 
desired  her  to  go  with  him  to  call  on  some  strangers 
of  distinction  at  the  Mansion  House.  She  went  to 
her  closet  to  get  her  best  bonnet  and  shawl ;  they 
were  gone.  Of  course,  her  discomfiture  and  annoy- 
ance were  extreme.  We  could  no  longer  conceal 
from  her  the  facts  of  the  case,  and  evidently  she 
must  give  up  paying  her  visit.  She  was  in  a  tower- 
ing passion,  and  who  could  wonder  ?  "  She  would 
punish  that  child  within  an  inch  of  her  life,  the  min- 
ute she  could  get  hold  of  her !  The  Marchioness 
would  come  home  cold,  and  there  would  be  no 
kitchen  fire  for  her,"  —  and  she  vigorously  adminis- 
tered three  or  four  pitchers  of  water,  and  put  out  the 
fire.  "She  would  be  hungry,  she  should  go  supper- 
less  to  bed,  and  shame  and  disgrace  should  follow 
her  downsitting  and  uprising  !  "  So,  having  removed 
certain  goodies  that  she  habitually  kept  for  any 
member  of  her  own  family  into  the  parlor  closet, 
she  proceeded  to  lock  up  the  kitchen  and  the  store 
closets. 


442  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

Late  in  the  evening,  the  stealthy  tread  of  the  cul- 
prit, hoping  to  creep  in  and  restore  the  borrowed 
lustre  to  its  proper  place  without  detection,  was 
heard.     My  mother  pounced  upon  her  vehemently. 

"How  did  you  dare!"  she  began, —  but  one 
glance  at  the  shivering,  trembling  child  was  too 
much  for  that  warm  heart.  Possibly,  too,  the  whole 
absurdity  of  the  situation  struck  her,  although  she 
never  once  smiled.  "  Letitia,"  she  said,  gravely, 
but  in  a  tone  whose  depth  and  gentleness  I  hear 
even  now  through  the  distant  years,  "  Letitia,"  — no 
longer  "Marchioness,"  —  "I  suppose  you  are  very 
cold  ? " 

"Yes,  marm." 

"Well,  Letitia,  the  kitchen  fire  is  all  out,  and  it 
won't  do  for  you  to  go  to  bed  shaking  in  that  way  ; 
so  you'd  better  sit  down  here  by  my  fire,  and  get 
perfectly  warm." 

"Yes,  marm!  "  in  most  abject  tones  from  the  poor 
"  Marchioness." 

A  pause, —  my  mother  working  away  as  if  her 
life  depended  on  it ;  then,  "  Letitia,  I  suppose  you 
have  not  had  any  supper,  and  must  be  very  hungry  ? 
Well,  you  won't  find  any  thing  in  the  kitchen  ;  but 
when  you  have  got  your  feet  warm,  you  can  go 
there,"  —  pointing  to  the  parlor-closet, —  "and  take 
what  you  want." 

When  my  friend  Lucretia  and  I  were  fairly  in  our 
own  room,  and  had  closed  the  door,  we  could  not 
tell  whether  to  laugh  or  cry,  the  whole  scene  had 
been  such  a  mixture  of  humor  and  pathos.  Really, 
we  had  not  expected  to  see  such  a  fizzle  as  this, 
after  such  great  preparations  for  protracted  warfare. 


IMP  A  TIENCE   WITH  PRE  TENSIONS         443 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  "  Marchioness " 
never  wore  her  mistress's  best  things  again,  or  per- 
formed any  similar  prank,  although  her  mischief  did 
not  end  there.  "A  great  deal  of  the  white  horse 
in  that  child,"  my  mother  would  say, —  it  was  a 
favorite  expression  of  hers, —  "but  she's  a  treasure 
in  the  long  run." 

My  dear  friend,  Martha  Swan,  who  often  stayed 
with  her  during  my  frequent  absences  from  home, 
says  that  one  day,  when  she  was  preparing  to 
receive  some  friends  in  the  evening,  a  young  lady 
came  in,  whose  purpose  evidently  was  to  receive  an 
invitation  to  meet  these  guests.  As  soon  as  she 
was  gone,  my  mother  remarked:  — 

"  Now,  mark  my  words,  Martha  !  I  will  not  have 
that  piece  of  pretension  and  affectation  here  to-night, 
to  spoil  all  our  pleasure." 

Martha  thought  she  was  perfectly  right,  and  sup- 
posed the  matter  dropped.  About  dark,  what  was 
her  amazement  to  see  my  mother  creeping  stealthily 
out  the  side-door,  and,  after  a  time,  returning,  tow- 
ing along  "  that  piece  of  pretension  and  affectation," 
to  take  tea  and  pass  the  evening.  She  really  could 
not  have  enjoyed  a  moment,  thinking  that  any  young 
girl  was  sitting  at  home,  wanting  to  come  ;  although 
there  was  no  reason  why  she  should  have  asked  her, 
as  it  was  not  a  general  party,  but  only  a  gathering 
of  three  or  four  persons.  But  she  had  certainly 
great  impatience  with  all  affectation  ;  and  no  wonder, 
for  nothing  could  be  more  foreign  to  her  own  nature. 
I  find  in  one  of  her  letters  this  sentence  :  — 

"  1  went  yesterday  to  see  ,  and,  to  my  great 


4H  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

sorrow,  found  her  translated  into  an  affected  piece 
of  city  trumpery.  But  such  people  as  she  is,  should 
not  engross  much  space,  even  in  a  letter.  They  are 
like  the  short-lived,  gaudy  butterfly, —  entertain  us 
with  their  fine  colors,  but  never  soar  to  any  thing 
higher  than  this  poor  earth.  'Tis  about  as  foolish  to 
talk  about  them  as  it  would  be  to  envy  them.  I 
could  tolerate  affectation,  if  it  were  not  that  I  see 
those  who  fall  into  it  have  first  to  part  with  all  their 
integrity  of  character,  and  give  themselves  up  to 
the  exhibition  of  false  colors ;  in  other  words,  they 
live  upon  untruth.  Their  whole  conduct  is  a  prac- 
tical lie.  But  they  only  have  the  condemnation  of 
such  as  themselves ;  for  others  will  do  themselves 
the  justice  to  bear  their  testimony  against  this  lie, 
lest  they  should  be  considered  as  involved  in  the 
same  folly,  not  to  say  vice." 

I  cannot  help  here  recalling  how  possible  it  was 
for  her  to  appear  like  quite  a  poor,  depressed, 
commonplace  woman,  when  some  accident  would 
place  her  in  the  society  of  persons  whose  life  was 
in  externals.  The  neighbors  in  our  village,  who 
appreciated  her  so  fully,  would  never  have  known 
her  for  the  same  person.  Silent,  abstracted,  she 
was  either  absorbed  in  some  homely  work,  or  her 
mind  had  travelled  to  some  distant  space.  I  remem- 
ber a  young  lady  of  fashion  waking  her  suddenly 
from  one  of  these  dreams  by  saying :  — 

"  Mrs.    Lyman,    you    were    at     's    yesterday. 

Did  you  hear  B.  express  any  enthusiasm  about 
Z.'s  carpets  and  curtains?" 


HER  DISRESPECT  FOR  "  THINGS"  445 

She  looked  half-dazed  ;  but,  when  the  question 
was  fairly  understood,  said,  slowly  :  — 

"  Carpets  !  curtains  !  enthusiasm  !  Well,  well ! 
I've  heard  of  enthusiasm  for  fine  natural  scenery ; 
for  grand  music ;  for  a  noble  poem  ;  but  I  never 
in  all  my  life  heard  of  it  for  those  things!"  And 
she  relapsed  into  her  solemn  silence. 

Never  was  there  any  one,  who,  both  by  precept 
and  example,  placed  a  lower  value  on  things.  I  find, 
in  a  letter  to  my  sister  Catherine,  written  to  her 
during  her  residence  in  China,  the  following  descrip- 
tion of  a  young  friend:  — 

"  From  the  tone  of  her  letters,  I  think  L.  is 
becoming  more  reconciled  to  her  new  home  than 
when  she  first  went  there.  I  should  think  it  was 
a  place  where  she  might  make  herself  contented, 
and  where  her  accomplishments  would  be  appre- 
ciated. But  I  suspect  discontent  is  a  very  promi- 
nent element  in  her  character,  though  there  is  a 
great  deal  that  is  interesting  mingled  with  it.  But 
she  has  been  too  much  indulged  to  be  happy,  and 
has  too  exaggerated  notions  of  the  requisites  to 
happiness  ;  in  short,  she  has  not  discovered  that 
the  real  sources  of  happiness  are  only  to  be  found 
in  one's  own  breast.  She  has  affixed  too  deep  a 
significance  to  chairs  and  tables,  and  all  external 
things  of  that  kind,  and  has  failed  to  throw  around 
common  things  and  common  duties  that  drapery 
of  fitness,  simplicity,  and  grace,  which  nothing  but 
a  well-directed  imagination  and  mental  insight  into 
the  great  ends  of  existence  supplies.  It  is  the 
common  and  familiar  things  belonging  to  our  exist- 


446  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

ence,  which  must  furnish  the  materials  of  our  happi- 
ness. We  must  invest  them  with  the  beauty  and 
the  radiance  and  the  loveliness  of  gifts  from  our 
Heavenly  Father,  who  knows  what  is  best  for  us. 
.If  our  lot  is  not  what  we  prefer,  and  what  we 
cannot  overrule,  we  must  remember  it  has  been 
assigned  to  us  by  our  Heavenly  Wisdom,  in  love  and 
mercy.  Will  not  such  reflections  secure  content- 
ment ? " 

How  can  I  pass  by  the  period  of  my  youth  with- 
out recording  the  high  value  she  placed  on  the 
friendships  of  the  young,  and  the  efforts  she  was 
always  making  to  foster  and  enlarge  them  ?  To 
her  mind  friendship  was  a  great  educator,  one  of 
the  noblest  of  stimulants  to  virtue  ;  and  in  our  house 
was  never  a  barrier  or  limit  placed  on  the  inter- 
course of  young  people  of  botli  sexes,  by  perpetual 
harping  on  proprieties.  How  the  names  of  all  our 
friends  seemed  to  have  an  added  lustre  as  she  pro- 
nounced them,  and  how  her  ever  fresh  sympathy 
was  constantly  increasing  our  own   enthusiasm  ! 

And  in  the  social  life  of  our  village,  how  steadily 
she  ignored  any  differences  among  her  neighbors  ! 
I  recall  a  most  characteristic  incident  as  happening 
during  my  youth.  My  mother's  neighbors  were 
mostly  like  herself,  early  risers,  and  half  the  work 
and  half  the  errands  in  their  busy  life  were  done 
before  breakfast  in  the  summer-time,  and  in  the  cool 
of  the  morning.  She  so  often  repeated  with  glow- 
ing   countenance   those  lines  from  Gray's   "  Elegy," 

"  The  breezy  call  of  incense-breathing  morn,"' 


HER  PARLORS  NEUTRAL  GROUND  447 

that  I  think  she  had  a  living  experience  of  the 
beauty  in  them.  One  morning,  with  windows  all 
open,  she  was  vigorously  sweeping  her  parlors,  when 
an  old  friend  passed,  with  a  basket  of  eggs,  and 
stopped  as  usual  for  a  morning  chat.  "  Mrs. 
Lyman,"    she  called  out,  "  I  hear  you  have  invited 

the  s    and    the   s    to   your  party  to-night ! 

Didn't  you  know  they  don't  speak  ;  and  won't  it 
be  a  little  awkward  ? "  "  I  don't  know  any  thing 
about  people  that  don't  speak ! "  was  the  quick 
reply,  and  she  went  on  with  her  work.  A  few 
moments  passed,  and  another  friend  looked  in  at 
the  window ;  "  Good  morning,  Mrs.  Lyman,"  she 
said  ;  "  I  heard,  yesterday,  that  you  had  invited  the 

s    and    the   s    to   your   party  to-night,  and 

I  thought,  as  I  was  going  down  town  this  morning, 
I  would  try  to  see  you,  and  let  you  know  that 
those  two  families  don't  speak  to  one  another,  and 
haven't  these  six  months."  "The  Lord  only  knows 
when  they  will,"  said  my  mother,  sweeping  yet 
more  vigorously,  "  if  no  one  ever  gives  them  a 
chance ! "  And  the  second  friend  passed  on.  A 
few  moments  later,  the  sweet,  cheery  voice  of  a 
young  girl  was  heard,  on  her  way  to  catch  the  early 
mail  at  the  post-office  :  — ■ 

"  Airs.  Lyman  !  Mrs.  Lyman  !  "  she  called  out,  as 
she  caught  sight  of  the  retreating  figure  with  the 
broom;    "are   you   going  to  have  a  party  to-night? 

And  is  it  true  that  you've  invited  the s  and  the 

s  ?     Lid    you    know    they    don't    speak?"     My 

mother  was  now  quite  roused.  Leaving  everything, 
she  went   to  the  door,  and  laid  a  heavy  and  impres- 


4 1 3  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

sive  hand  on  the  young  girl's  snoulcler, — -a  touch 
that  all  remember  who  ever  felt  it.  "  See  here,  C," 
she  said,  "you  are  young,  very  young  indeed"  (if 
ever  youth  was  made  to  sound  like  a  crime,  it  did 
then) ;  "  did  you  ever  hear  that,  when  two  countries 
are  at  war,  a  third  country  or  territory  is  always 
selected,  which  they  call  neutral  ground  ?  Now,  I 
am  perfectly  willing  to  have  my  parlors  stand  for 
neutral  ground ;  but  you  need  not  tell  any  one  that  I 
said  so."  The  young  girl  passed  on  ;  but  my  mother 
called  her  back.  "C,"  she  said,  "I  want  to  tell 
you,  that  when  you've  lived  as  long  as  I  have,  you'll 
find  it's  a  capital  thing  to  go  through  life  deaf,  and 
dumb,  and  blind  /" 

I  cannot  remember  whether  the  contending  fami- 
lies came  to  our  party,  but  I  do  know  that  those  dear 
parlors  proved  neutral  ground  more  than  once  to 
neighbors  long  parted,  their  differences  melting  away 
in  a  house  where  differences  were  never  recognized. 

Indeed,  nothing  impressed  one  more  than  the 
warmth  and  glow  her  presence  spread  wherever  she 
came  ;  and  in  her  own  parlors  she  was  surely  queen. 
But  wherever  she  moved,  light  followed  her.  How 
perfect  were  her  relations  to  the  near  neighbors  ! 
How  she  had  secrets  with  the  family  at  Warner's 
tavern,  and  lived  for  years  on  the  best  of  terms  with 
those  two  excellent  women,  Mrs.  Warner  and  Mrs. 
Vinton,  and  would  often  be  seen  stealing  in  at  their 
back  door,  through  the  hole  in  the  fence  that  parted 
our  premises,  to  borrow  a  pie,  or  to  give  advice  as  to 
the  naming  of  the  children  who  were  born  there,  or 
something   equally  important ;    then   to   the   apothe- 


HER  VIVID  PERSONALITY  449 

cary's  store  between  us,  to  have  her  evening  chat 
with  Mr.  Isaac  Clark,  whom  she  justly  regarded  as 
"one  of  the  salt  of  the  earth  "  !  Trifles,  light  as  air 
they  all  seem  to  tell  of;  but  the  racy  words  she 
uttered  to  all  these  friends  have  been  remembered 
ever  since. 

And  yet  how  can  any  one,  who  did  not  hear  her, 
take  in  the  infinite  satire  she  conveyed,  when  she 
spoke  of  one  of  her  children,  as  fearing  she  had  gone 
over  to  "  those  loose  endcrs,"  meaning  the  transcen- 
dentalists ;  and  of  another,  that  she  had  "got  beyond 
ordinances,"  because  she  did  not  wish  to  go  to 
church  two  or  three  times  on  Sunday  ? 

We  shall  have  to  leave  many  of  her  best  sayings 
unrecorded,  for  we  cannot  transfer  the  tone  and 
manner  that  made  them  forcible. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Ye  sigh  not,  when  the  sun,  his  course  fulfilled, 

His  glorious  course,  rejoicing  earth  and  sky, 

In  the  soft  evening,  when  the  winds  are  stilled, 

Sinks  where  his  islands  of  refreshment  lie ; 
And  leaves  the  smile  of  his  departure  spread 
O'er  the  warm-colored  heaven  and  ruddy  mountain-head. 

Why  weep  ye,  then,  for  him  who,  having  won 
The  bound  of  man's  appointed  years,  at  last, 

Life's  blessings  all  enjoyed,  life's  labors  done, 
Serenely  to  his  final  rest  has  passed; 

While  the  soft  memory  of  his  virtues  yet 

Lingers  like  twilight  hues,  when  the  bright  sun  is  set  ? 

Bryant. 

IT  was  during  the  summer  of  1841,  that  my  father 
experienced  his  first  shock  of  paralysis,  followed 
at  intervals  with  other  attacks,  more  or  less  severe, 
until  his  death,  on  December  11,  1847.  During 
these  years,  he  suffered  much  from  the  conscious- 
ness of  the  change  that  had  passed  over  him,  from 
failing  sight  and  memory,  and  all  the  wearisome 
attendants  of  paralysis.  Nor  was  the  care  and  alle- 
viation of  the  disease  as  well  understood  as  now, 
when  modern  science  has  taught  us  the  methods  of 
staying  its  progress  and  lessening  its  effects. 
Always  patient  and  long-suffering,  his  Christian 
submission  did  not  forsake  him,  and  he  bore  the 
long    years    of    his    downward    progress,    rather,    I 


HER  HUSBAND'S  LAST  YEARS  451 

should  say,  his  upward  progress,  with  that  unrepin- 
ing  spirit  which  in  health  had  been  a  cheerful  and 
peaceful  one.  But  the  days  were  full  of  heaviness 
to  him,  though  often  lighted  up  by  the  warmth  of 
his  affections,  and  that  spirit  of  courtesy  (the  last 
attainment  of  the  refined  Christian)  which  never 
forsook  him,  even  when  mind  and  memory  were 
gone. 

And  now,  if  I  were  to  pass  over  in  silence  my 
dear  mother's  course  during  these  trying  years,  that 
integrity  which  formed  so  striking  a  portion  of  her 
character  would  rise  up  to  reproach  me. 

Disparity  of  years  is  no  disadvantage  in  the  early 
period  of  marriage.  In  fact,  to  a  high-toned  young 
woman,  the  mixture  of  reverence  she  cannot  but 
feel  for  her  elder  companion  greatly  enhances  many 
of  her  enjoyments.  Middle  age  still  retains  the 
noblest  characteristics  of  youth  ;  and  if  it  has  lost 
something  of  aspiration,  it  has  the  added  grace  of 
long  habit,  and  the  steadiness  of  long  performance. 
But  when  years  have  passed  on,  and  the  wife  finds 
herself  in  middle  life,  overwhelmed  with  its  cares 
and  duties,  and  still  vigorous  to  meet  them, —  her 
husband  now  feeble,  infirm,  tottering  on  the  verge 
of  the  grave,  no  longer  able  to  be  the  guide  and  sus- 
tainer  of  her  difficult  path, —  then  is  felt  "that  awful 
chasm  of  twenty-one  years  in  human  life,"  of  which 
my  mother's  sister  Sally  had  written,  at  the  time  of 
her  betrothal,  but  which  had  never  been  manifest 
till  now.  She  omitted  no  care  that  could  add  to 
his  comfort;  and  the  impatient  word  and  sudden 
gesture,  which  children    and    friends    might  regret, 


452  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

did  no  justice  to  the  devotion  of  weary  days  and 
nights,  for  which  she  asked  no  aid  and  claimed  no 
sympathy.  Self-control  and  patient  endurance  had 
never  been  her  characteristic  virtues,  although  she 
practised  them  far  oftener  than  we  knew ;  but  at 
this  period  many  trials  came  to  her,  which  one  must 
experience  to  understand.  With  the  care  of  a  fail- 
ing invalid  always  on  her  mind,  passing  hours  of 
every  day  reading  over  and  over  again  the  same 
newspapers  with  dimmed  eyes, —  eyes  long  dim  from 
weeping  for  the  lovely  Anne  Jean,  and  for  other 
sorrows ;  her  nights  often  broken  and  disturbed, — • 
she  had  yet  the  same  duties  to  a  large  circle  that 
she  had  always  had.  The  habits  of  the  house  for 
half  a  century  could  not  at  once  be  changed,  and  the 
old  hospitalities  still  went  on,  with  a  diminished 
purse,  and  added  self-sacrifice  on  her  part.  The 
casual  observer  is  wont  to  notice  the  occasions  of 
the  irritable  word,  the  impatient  gesture,  and  they 
always  seem  insufficient  for  the  effect.  One  who 
looks  deeper,  knows  that  the  cause  lies  deeper ;  that 
the  irritability  coming  inevitably  from  so  many 
sources  of  fatigue  and  anxiety  must  have  a  vent 
somewhere ;  and  unfortunately  for  our  poor  human 
nature,  the  safety-valve  will  often  be  the  one  best 
loved,  most  tenderly  cherished, —  only  alas  !  because 
on  that  perfect  love  and  understanding  we  can 
always  fall  back. 

And  indeed,  although  her  vigorous  health  seemed 
the  same,  yet  that  "cloud,  no  bigger  than  a  man's 
hand,"  left  upon  her  brain  by  the  malignant  erysipe- 
las of  two  years  before,  had  already  begun  its  work 


READJUSTING  HER  LIFE  453 

of  destruction ;  although  it  was  not  till  two  years 
after  my  father's  death  that  she  experienced  those 
first  moments  of  unconsciousness,  which  gave  evi- 
dence of  a  disordered  brain. 

Later  in  her  life,  when  her  own  ill-health  and 
failing  powers  gave  her  a  better  understanding  of 
weak  nerves  and  exhausted  strength,  she  expressed 
to  me  a  tender  regret  that  she  had  not  been  more 
patient  with  the  infirmities  of  my  father's  last  years. 
But  it  was  a  regret  free  from  remorse,  for  she  was 
unconscious  of  any  thing  save  warm  affection  and 
pure  intention  in  respect  to  him. 

After  my  father's  death,  my  mother  passed  a 
winter  of  great  quietness,  and  the  physical  rest 
she  experienced  was  in  some  respects  a  benefit  to 
her.  She  read  a  great  deal,  and  her  reflections  were 
wise  and  thoughtful.  It  is  touching  to  me  to  recall 
how  in  these  days  of  lessened  cares,  diminished 
means,  and  a  comparatively  empty  house,  she  set 
herself  diligently  to  work  to  acquire  those  habits  of 
system  and  order,  the  want  of  which  had  been  a 
serious  drawback  to  her  all  her  life.  Her  youngest 
son,  whose  devotion  to  her  comfort  from  his  youth 
upward  was  the  frequent  theme  of  her  loving  obser- 
vation, now  arranged  all  her  affairs  so  as  to  give 
her  the  least  trouble  and  inconvenience  possible; 
and  she  endeavored  to  aid  him  as  far  as  she  could, 
by  keeping  that  strict  account  of  expenditure,  which 
her  narrow  income  especially  demanded.  It  is  hard 
to  alter  late  in  life  those  habits  which  have  been 
both  hereditary  and  indulged  ;  yet  my  dear  mother 
made   that    good    progress   during   this  period   that 


454  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

must  have  been  crowned  with  partial  success,  had 
not  that  mental  malady,  caused  by  the  illness  four 
years  previous,  been  steadily  though  silently  advanc- 
ing. During  the  summer  after  my  father's  death, 
she  experienced  much  pleasure  in  the  coming  of  a 
daughter-in-law  to  pass  some  weeks,  bringing  a  little 
grandson,  in  whom  her  affectionate  heart  lived  over 
again  the  infancy  of  her  own  children.  In  the 
autumn,  her  last  unmarried  child  became  engaged, 
and  although  this  circumstance  took  from  her  her 
only  companion  and  cherished  daughter,  yet  her 
sympathy  in  the  event,  and  her  unselfish  efforts  to 
promote  the  best  happiness  of  the  young  couple, 
prevented  her  from  dwelling  mournfully  on  the  dep- 
rivation. She  was  always  ready  to  see  the  sun- 
light shining  through  the  rifts  of  clouds,  and,  when 
nothing  was  cheerful  in  her  own  fate,  to  make  the 
happiness  of  another  her  own. 

There  is  a  peaceful  pleasure  to  me  in  recalling 
this  summer  of  1848,  the  last  that  my  dear  mother 
and  I  passed  together,  when  she  was  in  full  posses- 
sion of  all  her  powers.  I  read  aloud  to  her  a  great 
deal,  and,  among  other  things,  the  "Memoirs  of 
Dr.  Channing."  How  she  delighted  in  it,  and  re- 
called the  years  of  her  acquaintance  with  him,  and 
the  first  effect  of  his  preaching  on  her  youthful 
mind  ! 

She  had  a  valued  friend  and  neighbor,  Mrs. 
Thayer,  with  whom  she  had  an  uncommon  share  of 
sympathy.  In  some  strong  points  of  character  they 
greatly  resembled  each  other,  and  shared  the  same 
views    of   an    enlarged   hospitality  and   kindness  to 


LETTER  FROM  JOHN  G.   WHITTIER        455 

strangers,  because  they  were  strangers.  Mrs.  Thayer 
had  two  sons,  who  were  making  most  self-denying 
efforts  for  an  education.  Refined  and  intellectual 
tastes  were  hereditary  in  the  family  ;  and  William, 
the  eldest  son,  had,  even  as  a  boy,  a  rare  talent  for 
writing  poetry.  From  the  moment  my  mother 
knew  about  these  boys,  her  heart  was  deeply  en- 
gaged in  seconding  their  efforts.  That  she  was  not 
in  this  case  without  that  clear,  moral  insight  into 
the  characters  of  those  on  whom  she  fixed  her 
deepest  interest,  which  distinguished  her  beyond 
most  persons  I  have  known,  may  be  seen  from  the 
following  note,  written  to  William  in  1849,  by  the 
poet  Whittier,  who  was  an  old  friend  of  his  fam- 
ily:- 

Amesbury,  24th,  Sth  month  [1S49]. 

My  dear  Friend, —  I  was  very  glad  to  get  a 
line  from  thee,  and  the  poem  enclosed  pleased  me 
exceedingly.  The  concluding  verse  is  admirable 
and  the  whole  conception  good.  I  have  just  sent 
it  to  the  "Era." 

Give  my  best  love  to  thy  mother  (and  father,  if  he 
is  at  home),  and  to  Sarah  and  James,  and  believe  me 
Very  cordially  thy  friend, 

John  G.  Whittier. 

1'.  S.  Elizabeth  and  mother  send  their  love  to 
thee  and  thine.  We  are  right  glad  thou  hast  so 
good  a  friend  in  Mrs.  Lyman,  and  still  more  so  that 
her  kindness  is  so  well  deserved  on  thy  part.  From 
my  heart,  I  cannot  but  thank  that  woman  for  what 
she  has  done  for  thee.     God  bless  her!  W. 


456  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

When,  many  years  later,  I  visited,  at  Alexandria, 
the  grave  of  William  Sydney  Thayer,  our  consul- 
general  in  Egypt;  when  I  heard  Lady  Duff  Gordon, 
and  her  daughter  Mrs.  Ross,  mourning  for  his  early 
death,  and  their  appreciative  recollections  of  his  brief 
career;  and  when  I  saw  the  sincere  grief  of  his 
servants  Hassan  and  Ali,  who  were  with  him  to  the 
end,  I  rejoiced  that  my  dear  mother,  who  always 
took  the  death  of  loved  ones  so  hard,  was  spared 
this  added  sorrow.  The  other  brother  is  now  Royall 
Professor  of  Law  in  Harvard  University,  holding  the 
same  chair  that  was  formerly  held  by  my  mother's 
friend,  Hooker  Ashmun.  I  insert  the  following  let- 
ter from  him  here  as  its  most  appropriate  place:  — 

Cambridge,  Oct.  5,  1875. 

Dear  Mrs.  Lesley, —  You  have  been  kind  enough 
to  ask  me  to  send  you  my  recollections  of  your 
mother.  I  do  so,  very  gladly.  You  will,  of  course, 
use  my  letter  in  any  way  which  serves  your  purpose 
best ;  or  not  use  it  at  all,  if  that  is  best. 

My  brother  William  and  I  were  little  boys  of 
about  twelve  and  ten  years  old,  when  my  father 
moved  to  Northampton,  in  1841.  I  cannot  defi- 
nitely fix  the  first  time  that  I  ever  saw  your  mother 
or  your  father ;  but  among  the  clear  recollections  of 
my  boyhood  are  those  of  her  impressive  presence 
and  manner,  and  of  the  benign  figure  of  Judge 
Lyman  in  his  old  age.  I  recall  him,  especially,  as 
he  used  to  sit  in  the  morning  sun,  on  the  broad, 
stone  step  of  Mr.  Mclntyre's  store,  next  door  to  your 
house, —  a   beautiful,    white-haired    old    man,    whose 


HER  FRIENDLINESS  TO  YOUNG  MEN     457 

presence  brought  with  it  a  sweet  composure,  and 
insensibly  prompted  the  passer-by  to  "  tender  offices 
and  pensive  thoughts." 

My  relations  to  your  mother  were  those  of  a  boy 
and  a  young  man  to  one  much  older  than  he,  from 
whom  he  received  the  most  important  and  unceas- 
ing benefits.  When  I  was  a  young  boy  she  used  to 
send  me  books,  and  often  asked  me  to  come  in  and 
read  to  her  in  the  evening.  I  can  remember  read- 
ing in  this  way,  among  other  things,  the  "Artist's 
Married  Life,"  Mr.  Everett's  "  Funeral  Oration  on 
John  Ouincy  Adams,"  and  certain  sermons  by 
James  Martineau. 

I  was  at  that  time  studying  for  college  without 
a  teacher, —  meaning  to  go  to  Amherst,  where  some 
of  my  friends  had  gone.  One  evening  Mrs.  Lyman 
surprised  me  by  asking  why  I  did  not  go  to  Cam- 
bridge. I  answered  that  it  was  cheaper  at  Amherst. 
She  replied  that  I  should  go  to  Cambridge  if  I 
wished ;  and  so,  to  my  great  delight,  the  matter 
was  soon  arranged.  Not  only  did  she  undertake 
to  see  that  the  necessary  means  should  be  furnished 
for  me,  but  when  soon  after,  certain  friends,  who 
had  supplied  resources  to  my  brother  William,  unex- 
pectedly gave  out, —  with  the  greatest  spirit  and 
energy,  she  took  hold  of  his  affairs  also,  and  secured 
his  continuance  in  college.  Besides  this,  her  atten- 
tion was  drawn  to  our  school-mate,  Chauncey 
Wright, —  whose  sudden  death  is  now  so  fresh  a 
grief  to  you  and  me,  and  all  his  friends.  He  had 
left  school,  and  was  at  work  in  his  father's  business  ; 
but  your  mother  pressed  upon  Mr.  Wright  the  mat- 


453  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

ter  of  sending  Chauncey  to  College,  and  carried  her 
point.  And  so  at  last,  in  1848,  Chauncey  and  I 
entered  the  Freshman  Class  at  Cambridge,  and  my 
brother  William  returned  there  again.  Not  one  of 
us  would  have  been  there,  if  it  had  not  been  for  her. 

She  also  went  to  Cambridge  that  summer, —  pre- 
ceding us, —  and  arranged  that  I  should  go  directly 
to  the  house  of  your  most  kind  Aunt,  Mrs.  Howe, 
to  stay  during  the  examination.  She  engaged  in 
our  behalf  other  most  kind  and  strong  allies,  whose 
friendship  continues  to-day,  like  your  own,  my  dear 
friend,  among  my  best  treasures.  And  so  our  way 
was  made  plain  through  college,  and  we  were  started 
in  life  after  we  left  college.  It  is  impossible  to 
tell  you  all  that  she  did  for  us ;  I  will  only  say 
that  nothing  could  have  been  more  strenuous  and 
effective  than  her  efforts  in  influencing  others  in 
our  behalf,  and  nothing  more  constant  than  the 
kind  offices  which  she  personally  did  us. 

My  first  letter  from  her  is  dated  at  Cambridge, 
August  10,  1848.  I  was  then  at  Northampton. 
Commencement  and  the  examination,  as  you  will 
remember,  at  that  time  did  not  come  until  the 
beginning  of  the  fall  term.  In  this  letter  she  offers 
me  from  her  own  house,  which  was  then  vacant, 
various  articles  of  furniture  for  my  room, —  with  the 
profuse  generosity  of  a  mother  to  her  son.  "  Mrs. 
Howe,"  she  says,  "has  some  chairs  which  she  will 
appropriate  to  your  room  if  you  wish  them  ;  and 
if  you  see  any  small  table  which  you  would  like, 
in  my  house,  or  desk,  you  can  bring  them  clown 
when  you  come.     There  is,  likewise,  a  single  bed- 


HERB-TEA  AND  GOOD  ADVICE  459 

stead  in  the  room  over  Letitia's  in  the  south  wing, 
which  you  can  saw  off  the  high  posts  of  and  bring 
down  when  you  come ;  and  there  is  probably  a  straw 
mattress  belonging  to  it  which  you  can  put  on 
board  the  cars  when  you  come  down,  if  you  like; 
and  you  may  take  any  pillows  you  can  find,  as  many 
as  you  wish  for,  out  of  my  room  where  I  sit  in 
the  morning;  you  will  want  several,  they  are  so 
small."  She  adds  in  a  postscript :  "  I  have  seen  the 
president  and  said  all  I  could  for  Chauncey,  and 
I  have  no  doubt  he  will  get  in." 

She  was  not  the  person  to  allow  any  young  friend 
of  hers  to  lose  his  head  from  self-conceit.  It  was 
in  this  same  "room  where  she  sat  in  the  morning," 
that  she  once  read  to  me  a  letter  from  a  wise  friend, 
stating  at  large,  in  answer  to  her  request,  his  sober, 
yet  not  quite  discouraging,  estimate  of  my  mental 
endowments.  And  I  may  mention  here  that  she 
was  not  merely  a  friend  and  physician  of  the  soul. 
I  well  remember  her  giving  me  once  a  teapot  and 
a  quantity  of  some  dried  herb, —  I  think  it  was 
dandelion, —  with  instructions  for  the  preparation  of 
a  decoction,  which  I  had  better  drink.  The  pre- 
scription met  my  mother's  approval,  and  these  two 
ladies  kept  me  supplied  for  a  considerable  time  with 
this  unpalatable  liquor. 

On  June  6,  1849,  she  wrote  me  from  Northamp- 
ton, sending  me  some  money  and  expressing  regret 
at  not  receiving  certain  funds  which  somebody  had 
promised  her  for  my  benefit  ;  and  she  added  some 
words  of  encouragement :  "  I  have  enclosed  you 
fifty  dollars.  .  .  .  But   do   not   be  disheartened  ;  you 


*6o  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

are  better  off  than  those  who  have  time  and  money 
to  commit  sin,  and  whose  mental  repose  is  impaired 
by  the  want  of  innocence,  which  you  will  be  able 
to  preserve.  I  hope  you  pay  attention  to  your 
health,  and  that  you  prompt  William  occasionally 
respecting  his.  I  have  just  been  reading  'Tyler's 
Views  of  the  Life  and  Character  of  Burns,'  mani- 
festing the  struggles  he  encountered  for  want  of 
means,  and  the  triumphs  of  the  spirit  over  mental 
discomforts  of  every  kind.  .  .  .  The  yearnings  of 
Burns's  mind  for  opportunities  of  mental  culture 
were  never  satisfied,  but  the  field  of  Nature  contrib- 
uted largely  of  her  inspirations  to  his  naturally 
prolific  and  poetical  imagination.  This  makes  his 
life  a  noble  contemplation  to  all  who  think  they  are 
cramped  more  than  they  can  bear." 

When  I  left  college,  in  1852,  and  went  to  teach 
school  in  Milton,  your  mother  had  gone  there,  as 
you  remember,  to  live.  My  brother  was  already 
teaching  there,  and  Mrs.  Lyman  invited  us  to  board 
with  her,  for  some  moderate  price,  as  long  as  she 
stayed  there.  At  that  time  her  memory  was  failing 
her  a  good  deal ;  she  was  restless,  and  evidently 
missed  the  old  Northampton  life.  I  remember  the 
presence  of  symptoms  which  foreshadowed  the  men- 
tal trouble  that  came  upon  her,  later  on.  Notwith- 
standing the  kindness  of  her  neighbors  and  relatives, 
such  a  change  in  her  dwelling-place  and  her  habits, 
at  that  time  of  life,  was  too  great.  It  was  a  new 
generation  that  she  looked  upon ;  they  were  not 
used  to  her  ways,  and  she  was  not  used  to  theirs. 
She  soon  removed  to  Cambridge. 


LETTER  OF  PROF.  J.  B.   THA  YER  <\6\ 

Thither,  after  two  years,  I  also  returned ;  and 
during  the  seven  years  which  followed,  until  my 
marriage,  I  saw  her  often.  During  a  good  part  of 
that  time  Chauncey  Wright  was  an  inmate  of  her 
house ;  and  it  was  my  custom  to  take  tea  there 
on  Sunday  nights.  It  was  often  sad  to  notice  the 
signs  of  her  failing  powers.  But  her  old  hearty 
welcome  never  once  failed.  She  was  to  the  last  as 
hospitable  and  warm-hearted  as  ever.  Not  seldom 
her  mind  seemed  clouded,  and  she  would  be  per- 
plexed ;  but  she  did  not  mean  that  it  should  be 
observed,  and  joined  cheerfully  in  the  talk.  She 
liked  to  tell  us  of  the  past,  and  of  people  whom  she 
had  formerly  known,  and  made  many  a  sagacious 
and  quaint  remark  in  her  old,  familiar,  emphatic  way. 
In  telling  me  for  instance  of  the  ancestors  of  a  cer- 
tain wealthy  family  in  our  neighborhood,  she  said : 
"They  were  hatters  and  clothes-venders  at  the 
North  End.  The  mother  was  a  religious  woman, 
and  though  not  cultivated,  she  had  that  kind  of  cul- 
tivation which  gives  good  sense,  and  which  people 
are  apt  to  get,  who  have  to  struggle  and  contrive 
to  get  a  living." 

After  I  was  married,  in  1861,  and  had  moved  back 
again  to  Milton,  I  saw  her  seldom,  and  did  not  know 
how  far  her  mind  had  failed  until  I  heard  of  her 
removal  to  the  asylum.  It  seemed  no  cause  for 
grief  when  the  news  came,  in  the  spring  of  1867, 
that  this  great  and  generous  heart  had  ceased  to 
beat.  At  last,  all  that  was  so  pathetic  about  her 
last  years  had  come  to  an  end,  and  the  thought 
of  it  gave  place  to  the  blessed  and  thick-coming 
recollections  of  her  earlier  life. 


462  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

It  is  so  good  to  know  that  you  are  preparing  this 
memorial  of  your  mother.  I  wish  that  I  could  con- 
tribute more  to  help  you,  and  especially  could  recall 
more  of  her  most  amusing  and  vigorous  conversa- 
tion, the  flavor  of  which  I  well  remember.  But 
others  can  do  that,  and  my  story  is  such  as  I  have 
told  you.  Your  memoir  will  be  of  the  greatest  in- 
terest, not  alone  to  your  own  family,  but  to  all  who 
knew  the  dear  and  noble  woman  of  whom  you 
write.  And  I  am  sure  that  it  must  do  a  great  deal 
of  good  to  the  younger  generation  among  your  kin- 
dred, to  read  of  that  cultivated  household  at  North- 
ampton. It  will  be  to  them  like  a  liberal  education, 
to  grow  acquainted  with  a  life  so  sound  and  health- 
ful as  your  mother's, —  a  life  not  only  directed  by 
the  courageous  and  frank  instincts  of  a  broad,  noble, 
and  healthy  physical  constitution,  by  strong  natural 
affections  and  a  powerful  understanding,  but  disci- 
plined also,  and  devout,  and  cheered  always  by  beau- 
tiful sentiments  and  a  spiritual  faith. 
Your  affectionate  friend, 

James  B.  Thayer. 

But  to  return  to  the  summer  of  1848.  I  recall 
with  gratitude  how  much  her  deep  interest  in  these 
boys,  and  in  Chauncey  Wright,  helped  to  carry  her 
through  a  period  when  many  persons,  similarly  situ- 
ated, would  only  have  been  able  to  think  of  their 
privations  and  trials.  Scarcely  ever  did  Chauncey's 
father,  the  deputy-sheriff,  drive  past  her  door  that 
she  did  not  hail  him,  to  impress  on  his  mind,  with 
all   the  earnestness  and  pathos  of   her  nature,  that 


A  SAMPLE  OF  "GOBLIN  TAPESTRY"       463 

Chauncey  must  have  collegiate  education ;  and  I 
think,  if  he  did  not  want  her  to  be  a  thorn  in  his  side 
until  this  dear  wish  of  her  heart  was  accomplished, 
he  must  have  made  a  circuit  to  avoid  her.  But  he 
was  a  kind-hearted  man,  and  valued  her  sympathy 
and  interest ;  and  she  never  forgot  the  day  when  he 
came  to  tell  her  that  Chauncey  should  go  to  Harvard, 
nor  the  sweet  smile  of  the  shy  youth,  who  timidly 
thanked  her  for  using  her  influence  in  his  behalf. 
That  day  made  a  high  festival  for  her,  and,  to  use 
her  own  expressive  phrase,  "was  worth  a  guinea  a 
minute  to  her." 

She  was  at  this  time  busily  engaged  in  making 
shirts  for  the  Thayer  boys,  before  they  should  go  to 
college  in  the  autumn.  Ah !  I  am  afraid  a  great 
deal  of  "  Goblin  tapestry  "  went  into  those  shirts. 
But  the  good  and  grateful  boys  never  thought  of 
that ;  and  could  they  have  known  what  a  solace  this 
sewing  was  to  her  lonely  heart,  they  would  have  re- 
joiced that  she  had  it. 

How  poor  she  was  this  summer,  and  yet  how  rich  ! 
Though  giving  little  thought  or  time  to  dress,  she 
had  always  before  kept  certain  nice  articles  of  wear- 
ing-apparel, befitting  her  station,  and  had  worn  them 
with  care.  But  now  her  wardrobe  became  "  beauti- 
fully less." 

"  Oh,  my  dear  and  ancient  friend,"  I  said  to  her 
one  day,  "  a  new  bonnet  you  must  really  have  !  " 

"By  no  means,"  she  remarked;  "mine  is  a  very 
good  bonnet  indeed." 

I  noticed,  that,  though  she  had  very  little  money, 
she  always  had  enough  to  buy  materials  for  "sofa- 


464  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

coverings."  That  was  her  name  for  garments  for 
the  poor.  So,  one  day  when  I  was  going  to  Spring- 
field, I  borrowed  some  money  of  her,  and,  instead  of 
returning  it,  brought  her  back  a  nice  bonnet  and 
shawl.  She  professed  to  be  very  indignant  at  the 
ruse ;  but,  when  I  told  her  that,  if  she  would  behave 
like  "Dominie  Sampson,"  she  must  be  treated  like 
him,  she  concluded  to  take  it  all  as  a  joke,  and  really 
enjoyed  wearing  her  new  things  heartily. 

Late  in  August,  we  went  to  Cambridge  to  make 
my  Aunt  Howe  a  visit,  and  what  a  charming  visit 
it  was  !  The  warm-hearted  sisters  planned  together 
how  they  should  adorn  and  arrange  the  old  room  in 
"  Massachusetts,"  that  William  and  James  Thayer 
were  to  occupy ;  and  busy  were  their  fingers,  and 
glowing  their  faces  as  they  daily  set  forth  for  the 
college-yard.  My  Cousin  Mary  and  I  one  day 
watched  them  as  they  walked  up  the  street, —  their 
homely  habiliments,  their  fine  faces,  their  uncon- 
scious and  ardent  gesticulation, —  and  we  said, 
"There  go  the  Cheeryble  sisters." 

Let  me  mention  here  one  circumstance  of  this 
visit  that  comes  back  to  me  with  the  remembrance 
of  my  dear  Aunt  Howe,  like  some  sweet  strain  of 
long-forgotten  music. 

At  that  time,  there  was  an  old  tenement-house 
still  standing  next  to  hers,  that  has  long  since  been 
removed.  A  member  of  the  family  living  there  had 
died  of  ship-fever,  and  as  our  windows  looked  into 
theirs,  we  were  alarmed  to  see  preparations  for  a 
"wake"  going  on,  and  numbers  of  people  collecting 
to  pass  the  long   summer  night.     Each  of   us   had 


MARRIAGE  OF  SUSAN  LYMAN  465 

something  to  say  of  the  danger  and  impropriety  of 
the  occasion  ;  but  only  my  aunt  did  any  thing.  We 
did  not  understand  it  at  the  time ;  it  all  came  to  us 
afterwards.  She  dressed  herself  in  her  best  black 
silk,  took  her  handsomest,  deep,  cut-glass  dish  from 
the  closet,  and  filled  it  with  chloride  of  lime  and 
surrounded  it  with  flowers.  Like  some  sympathiz- 
ing friend,  she  walked  in  among  the  group,  who  were 
making  their  moan,  and  quietly  set  her  dish  upon 
the  coffin,  where  it  remained  all  night.  When  she 
silently  returned  to  us,  she  said,  with  her  sweetest 
smile,  "  I  thought  as  it  was  a  dress  occasion,  if  I 
could  only  make  my  dish  handsome  enough,  it  might 
save  some  lives." 

After  remaining  a  month  with  my  Aunt  Howe, 
we  went  to  Brush  Hill  for  a  visit,  and  my  mother 
returned  home  alone  a  few  weeks  later. 

The  death  of  her  beautiful  little  grandson  during 
this  summer  was  a  heavy  trial  to  my  mother,  who 
saw  in  him  all  the  possibilities  of  a  man,  a  worthy 
descendant  of  a  worthy  race.  And  this  feeling,  with 
her  deep  sympathy  for  her  children,  on  whom  the 
loss  chiefly  fell,  saddened  her  for  a  long  time. 

In  February  of  1849,  her  daughter,  Susan  Inches, 
was  married,  and  left  her,  to  live  in  Milton,  passing 
some  months  under  the  hospitable  roof  of  her  uncle 
and  aunt  at  Brush  1 1  ill,  the  early  home  of  her 
mother  and  grandmother.  The  day  after  this  mar- 
riage, my  mother  wrote  to  another  daughter  :  "  After 
Susan  had  left  me,  I  was  not  slow  to  conclude  '  I 
must  finish  my  journey  alone.'  " 

She   records,    in    her    little    diary  of    this    period, 


466  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

that,  the  week  after  the  marriage,  Mr.  R.  W.  Emer- 
son came  to  Northampton  to  give  a  lecture ;  and 
she  mentions,  with  peculiar  pleasure,  the  two  days 
he  spent  with  her,  how  he  had  sympathized  with 
her  loss  of  a  daughter  and  acquisition  of  a  son,  how 
he  had  gone  with  her  to  visit  a  poor  family  in  whom 
she  was  deeply  interested,  and  had  left  behind  him 
the  after-glow  of  kind  words  and  deeds,  as  well  as 
of  aspiring  thought. 

And  now  came  a  loneliness  that  is  hard  to  remem- 
ber. She  often  invited  some  friend  to  share  it  ;  but 
the  old  objects  of  interest  were  gone,  and  every 
room  in  the  large  house,  echoing  to  her  solitary 
tread,  must  have  been  full  of  sadness.  She  never 
complained ;  that  was  contrary  to  the  habits  of  a 
lifetime.  But  those  nerves  she  had  despised  rose 
up,  an  armed  band,  and  took  their  revenge  on  her. 
The  sad  fate  of  the  excellent  Mrs.  Freme,  of  Brattle- 
boro',  who  went  up  in  a  chariot  of  flame,  haunted 
her  imagination,  and  voices  in  the  wind  prevented 
her  from  sleep.  "  Old  parlor  "  and  "  Best  parlor," 
"Library"  and  "Office,"  "Corridor"  and  "Turn- 
pike,"—  where  were  all  the  glad  voices  that  had 
once  resounded  through  your  walls  ?  Was  it  strange 
that  the  warm  heart  that  had  guided  successive  gen- 
erations through  all  the  manifold  experiences  of  joy 
and  grief  should  now 

"  Feci  like  one  who  treads  alone 
Some  banquet  hall  deserted  "  ? 

In  the  autumn  of  1849,  she  decided  to  leave 
Northampton,  and  her  heart  naturally  turned  towards 


REMOVAL  TO  MILTON  467 

Milton,  the  home  of  her  childhood.  But  first  she 
would  visit  her  beloved  Abby,  whose  frequent  invi- 
tations, in  years  gone  by,  she  had  necessarily  been 
forced  to  decline.  In  November  she  went  to  Cin- 
cinnati, and  was  received  with  all  the  warmth  of  a 
child  by  this  dear  niece  and  friend.  Another  happi- 
ness also  awaited  her  in  Cincinnati,  in  becoming 
acquainted  with  the  family  of  Sally  (Mrs.  Dana),  her 
other  niece,  to  whom  she  was  also  tenderly  attached. 
Her  letters  were  full  of  the  enjoyment  of  this  visit, 
and  the  devoted  kindness  of  her  nieces  and  their 
children  ;  and,  had  it  not  been  clouded  by  hearing 
of  the  death  of  her  brother,  Dr.  Edward  H.  Robbins, 
of  Boston,  during  the  month  of  January,  ner  happi- 
ness would  have  been  complete. 

To  how  many  hearts  did  the  death  of  this  good 
man  bring  sorrow  !  I  have  heard  that  some  stranger, 
seeing  how  many  mourned  for  him,  asked,  "  Did  Dr. 
Robbins  found  a  benevolent  institution?"  "No! 
he  was  a  benevolent  institution,"  was  the  reply. 

My  mother  left  Cincinnati  in  the  spring  of  1850, 
and  came  to  Milton  ;  but  she  did  not  remain  there 
many  weeks.  She  made  visits  to  children  and 
friends,  and  lingered  about  Northampton  for  some 
months ;  but  after  another  year  returned  to  Milton 
and  occupied  a  small  house  that  her  Lesley  children 
had  lived  in  until  their  removal  to  Philadelphia. 

In  1.S52,  she  made  a  long  visit  at  her  son  Sam's 
in  Northampton,  and  wrote  to  me  constantly  of  the 
pleasure  of  meeting  old  friends  and  neighbors.  I 
extract  the  following   sentence   from    one   of  them  : 

"  I  am  having  a  delightful  time  here.     Your  sister 


468  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

Almira  and  the  girls  are  devoted  to  my  comfort ; 
and  your  sister  has  had  two  parties  for  me,  taking 
in  all  I  most  wanted  to  see.  Your  brother  Sam 
could  not  have  been  more  kind  and  attentive,  or 
more  considerate  of  my  interests,  were  he  my  own 
son.  E.  is  one  of  the  most  useful  and  excellent  of 
daughters,  saving  her  mother  from  many  cares  ;  and 
M.  is  one  of  the  most  charming  creatures  to  be 
found  anywhere." 

To  Sarah  Thayer,  with  whom  her  relations  were 
always  most  affectionate  and  confidential,  she  after- 
wards wrote  :  "  I  often  feel  sorry  that  I  ever  left 
Northampton.  I  was  too  old  for  so  serious  a  change 
in  my  interests  and  habits." 

In  Milton,  her  kind  Forbes  cousins  contributed 
greatly  to  her  enjoyment;  and  the  occasional  so- 
ciety of  her  brother  and  his  wife,  at  Brush  Hill,  and 
of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Morison,  who  lived  near  her,  and 
of  the  Ware  family,  the  children  of  those  early 
friends  she  had  valued  so  much  in  youth,  was  an 
unspeakable  pleasure  to  her.  But  the  restlessness 
of  disease  and  of  a  broken-up  life  had  now  asserted 
its  sway  over  her,  and  it  was  evident  that  on  earth 
she  had  no  continuing  city. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

I've  heard  of  hearts  unkind,  kind  deeds 
With  coldness  still  returning; 
Alas  !  the  gratitude  of  men 
Hath  oftener  left  me  mourning. 

Wordsworth. 

IN  the  spring  of  1853,  my  mother  took  a  house  in 
Cambridge,  to  be  near  her.  sisters.  Within  a 
few  weeks  after  she  went  there,  the  death  of  her 
sister,  Eliza  Robbins,  excited  much  emotion  in  her 
heart.  My  Aunt  Eliza  died  at  my  Aunt  Howe's  in 
the  August  of  that  year.  In  her  youth,  a  certain 
impatience  of  limitations,  and  eccentricity  of  pur- 
pose had  separated  her  much  from  her  family, 
though  never  from  their  affections.  But  though 
this  circumstance  left  much  to  deplore,  there  was 
much  to  remember  with  deep  thankfulness,  at  the 
end.  Thirty  years  of  her  life  had  been  devoted  to 
the  prisoner,  the  slave,  and  especially  to  the  higher 
education  of  the  young,  and  had  crowned  her  mem- 
ory with  blessings.  She  made  for  herself  and  re- 
tained through  life  the  friendship  of  the  good  and 
wise;  and,  after  her  death,  Mr.  Bryant,  Miss  Sedg- 
wick, Mr.  Henry  Tuckerman,  and  William  Ware, 
wrote  affectionate  tributes  to  her  memory.  When 
my  mother  returned  from  seeing  her  for  the  last 
time,  the  day  before  her  death,   she  told   me  with 


47°  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

much  emotion  that  when  her  sisters  stood  around 
her  bed,  she  breathed  a  prayer  in  her  wonderfully 
expressive  language,  which  for  depth  of  humility 
and.  sublimity  of  aspiration  surpassed  any  thing  she 
had  ever  listened  to. 

Some  excellent  school  books  for  the  young,  re- 
main as  evidence  of  her  patient  toil  and  discriminat- 
ing intellect ;  and  letters  to  many  friends,  as  fine 
as  any  that  were  ever  penned. 

In  the  autumn  of  1856,  my  mother  moved  into 
a  small  house  next  to  the  one  she  had  first  occupied, 
which  her  sons  had  bought  for  her  and  fitted  up 
with  every  convenience  that  could  add  to  the  com- 
fort of  her  declining  years.  A  faithful  and  devoted 
woman  named  Mary  Walker,  watched  over  her 
personal  wants ;  another  good  Mary  did  the  work 
of  the  house.  Her  youngest  sister  spent  hours  of 
every  day  with  her,  reading  to  her  and  entertaining 
her.  One  noble  young  man,  whose  character  and 
mental  attainments  would  have  given  him  a  choice 
of  homes  at  that  seat  of  learning,  came  daily  to  the 
little  house  for  many  years  to  take  his  meals,  be- 
cause his  presence  there  gave  steadiness  and  sup- 
port to  the  three  solitary  women. 

Her  life  in  Cambridge,  though  marked  by  the 
steady  but  slow  progress  of  disease,  was  not  without 
many  alleviations  and  pleasures.  Her  son  Joseph, 
at  Jamaica  Plain,  was  constant  in  his  visits  ;  the  tie 
between  them  had  always  been  most  tender.  His 
wife  also  paid  her  the  tender  and  considerate  atten- 
tions of  a  daughter.  Her  sisters'  houses,  both  in 
Cambridge   and    Boston,    were   open    to    her   at    all 


HER  YEARS  AT  CAMBRIDGE  471 

times.  Nieces  and  nephews  came  often  to  see  her. 
Young  men  whom  she  had  formerly  befriended 
came,  without  regarding  the  sad  change  in  her ; 
children  and  grandchildren  passed  long  summers 
with  her,  and  her  devotion  to  the  little  ones  was 
touching  to  see.  Of  the  great  kindness  of  her 
neighbors,  Miss  Donnison  and  Mrs.  Hopkinson,  she 
constantly  wrote  to  me. 

At  first  she  wrote  often,  but  as  years  went  on, 
her  letters  became  mere  repetitions  ;  and,  two  years 
before  she  left  Cambridge,  they  ceased  altogether. 
From  the  later  ones  I  select  only  a  few  extracts, 
showing,  as  dear  Mrs.  Child  said  of  her  at  this  time, 
"how  the  old  light  and  warmth  still  sometimes 
shone  through  the  rifted  clouds." 

"  My  son  Joseph  came  to  see  me  to-day,  and 
brought  Mr.  Theodore  Parker.  I  had  not  seen  Mr. 
Parker  for  many  years,  not  since  he  passed  a  night 
at  my  house  in  Northampton,  and  I  did  not  know 
him,  because  he  had  become  bald.  He  was  very 
kind  and  cordial,  and  said,  '  It  is  true,  Mrs.  Lyman, 
that  I  "have  no  hair  on  the  top  of  my  head,  in  the 
place  where  the  hair  ought  to  grow  ; "  but  my  heart 
is  the  same,  and  it  has  kept  a  warm  remembrance 
for  you.'  This  made  Mary  Walker  laugh  very  much, 
and  you  know  a  good  laugh  does  Mary  a  world  of 
good." 

"  I  walked  down  town  yesterday,  and  I  met  Mrs. 
Cary  and  her  good  daughters  ;  they  are  always  kind, 
and  don't  treat  me  as  if  I  were  a  poor  old  woman, 
'all  broke  to  pieces.'" 


472  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

"Lois  is  just  as  good  to  me  as  if  she  had  known 
me  before ;  she  sends  her  carriage  to  take  me  out 
driving,  and  always  invites  me  to  all  the  family 
parties.  I  am  so  rejoiced  that  Estes  has  such  a 
wife  ;  'one  who  seeketh  not  her  own.'  " 

"  Last  Sunday  night,  my  grandson,  Ben,  came  and 
took  tea  with  me,  and  he  and  Chauncey  entertained 
me  for  hours  with  their  profound  conversation." 

Alas  !  she  could  no  longer  understand  "  profound 
conversation ; "  but  to  know  that  it  was  going  on 
about  her,  was  like  an  echo  of  that  far-off  past,  when 
she  had  contributed  her  own  share,  as  well  as  lis- 
tened to  it. 

Only  a  few  more  sentences  are  worth  recording, 
from  the  still  glowing  and  grateful  and  appreciative 
heart. 

"  Yesterday  was  Phi-Beta  day ;  and  who  do  you 
think  called  to  see  me  ?  Why,  Mr.  Emerson  !  And 
he  brought  his  charming  good  daughter,  too.  I  am 
so  glad  he  has  that  daughter.  I  introduced  him 
to  Chauncey.  Chauncey  is  so  very  profound,  I 
knew  Mr.  Emerson  would  think  a  great  deal  of  him. 
Perhaps  I  shall  never  see  Mr.  Emerson  any  more. 
Well !  '  I  saw  his  day,  and  was  glad.'  " 

„  "Sally  Pierce  came  to  see  me  to-day,  just  as  full 
of  kindness  and  good  sense  as  ever  her  mother  was, 
and  that  is  saying  a  great  deal." 

"  I  take  it  very  kind  of  Chauncey  that  he  some- 
times brings  Mr.  Gurney  home  to  take  tea.  He 
knows  that  I  always  like  to  hear  profound  conversa- 


TRIBUTE  TO  CHAUNCEY  WRIGHT  473 

tion ;  and,  I  assure  you,  it  is  quite  worth  while 
to  listen  to  them.  I  was  used  to  my  father,  and 
your  father,  and  your  Uncle  Howe,  all  my  early 
life,  and  much  of  this  modern  talk  I  can't  abide." 

"  I  went  out  into  the  porch  this  morning,  and  Mary 
Walker  was  training  some  vines.  I  asked  her  what 
she  was  doing.  She  said,  '  Endeavoring  to  restore 
the  old  Hutchinson  style.'  Perhaps  she  knows  what 
that  was.     I  am  sure  I  don't." 

"  My  Martha  comes  every  Sunday  evening  to  take 
tea,  and  sit  the  evening  with  me.  Just  the  same 
dear,  good  child  she  always  was.  '  Among  the  faith- 
less, always  faithful  found.'  " 

"  My  Sister  C.  is  an  angel  of  mercy  to  me.  What 
should  I  do  without  her  ?  She  spends  more  than 
half  her  time  with  me." 

In  another  letter  she  laments  the  fact  that  James 
Thayer  had  left  Cambridge.  "That  always  good 
young  man,  who  never  forgot  me  at  any  time,  but 
came  every  Sunday  evening  to  take  tea  with  me, 
when  he  might  have  gone  to  pleasanter  places." 

Sept.  14,  1S75. 

I  had  written  thus  far,  and  was  restraining  my 
grateful  pen,  as  I  recorded  the  last  annals  of  the  sad 
little  household  in  Garden  Street,  when  the  word 
came  to  me  that  my  noble  friend,  who  was  the  chief 
stay  and  guardian  of  my  dear  mother's  last  home, 
was  now  no  more. 

No  need  now,  dear  Chauncey,  to  refrain  from  tell- 
ing what  you  were  to  us,  from  fear  of  causing  your 


474  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

gentle  and  sensitive  spirit  to  shrink  from  the  praise. 
Others  will  record  your  worth  as  a  man  of  science, 
as  the  profound  thinker,  the  keen  observer,  the 
patient  listener  for  truth,  in  every  realm  of  knowl- 
edge. To  me  comes  a  hallowed  memory  of  a  manly 
soul,  who,  through  the  best  years  of  his  youth,  gave 
steadiness  to  a  broken  household  ;  who  poured  out 
from  the  rich  storehouse  of  his  intellect  the  finest 
conversation  to  a  weary,  wandering  mind  who  could 
not  comprehend  him  ;  who  came  down  from  the 
sublimest  heights  of  thought  to  comfort  and  cheer 
two  humble  women,  her  attendants ;  who,  during 
the  long  summer  days,  when  tired  with  the  burden 
of  his  own  patient  discoveries,  spent  many  an  hour 
in  carrying  up  and  down  the  garden  walks  the  child, 
whose  little  arms  it  was  always  difficult  to  unclasp 
from  "  Ity's "  neck,  and  whom  he  loved  with  such 
devotion,  that  we  felt  as  if  some  of  his  gentleness 
must  pass  into  her  soul.  No  ties  to  wife  and  chil- 
dren ever  brightened  the  destiny  of  this  man  of 
brilliant  genius  and  boundless  affections.  But  there 
are  laws  of  spiritual  transmission,  deep  as  those  of 
inheritance.  Through  some  such  invisible  influ- 
ence, "  Lord,  keep  his  memory  green  !  " 

There  remains  little  more  to  tell  of  my  dear 
mother's  life.  In  the  spring  of  i860,  my  sister  Jane 
died ;  and  though  my  mother  had  long  been  obliv- 
ious to  many  things,  she  seemed  to  wake  to  tempo- 
rary consciousness  of  the  event,  and  to  the  old  sym- 
pathy for  the  orphan  grandchildren  whose  father  and 
mother  both  had   been  very  dear  to  her.     For  the 


SELF-FORGETTING  TO  THE  LAST  475 

first  time  for  many  months  she  wrote  me  a  few  lines. 
"Your  sister  Jane  has  gone.  She  is  a  sad  loss. 
She  had  not  a  trace  of  selfishness  in  her  composi- 
tion, but  was  always  thinking  of  others,  like  her 
father  before  her.     I  always  loved  her." 

Early  in  1861,  the  fall  of  Sumter,  and  the  open- 
ing of  the  war,  sent  a  thrill  through  all  hearts, 
North  and  South.  But  to  her  it  was  only  a  sound 
of  confusion  and  alarm,  which  she  vaguely  under- 
stood. In  October  of  that  year,  with  the  best 
advice  of  physicians  and  wise  friends,  we  placed 
her  in  the  McLean  Asylum  at  Somerville ;  and  the 
little  household  in  Garden  Street  was  broken  up. 

From  this  time  I  never  saw  my  mother  again. 
Two  incidents  in  these  years  of  mental  darkness 
stand  out  in  my  remembrance,  and  when  I  think  of 
them  I  can  only  recall  the  words  of  the  old  prophet, 
"  Your  heart  shall  live  forever."  The  summer  before 
she  left  Cambridge,  my  husband  brought  an  invalid 
friend  to  pass  the  day.  As  evening  approached,  she 
implored  that  he  would  urge  his  friend  to  stay  all 
night.  When  he  told  her  she  had  no  room  for  him, 
she  said,  "  Oh  yes  ;  she  should  have  her  own  room 
put  in  nice  order  for  him,  and  she  herself  would 
occupy  the  parlor  sofa,  which  would  be  entirely  com- 
fortable." She  was  deeply  grieved  that  we  would 
not  consent  to  this  arrangement,  weeping  when  she 
saw  my  husband  accompany  the  sick  man  to  the 
cars,  and  saying  she  had  never  allowed  so  suffering 
a  person  to  leave  her  house  before. 

Two  or  three  years  later,  at  the  Asylum,  she  was 
often    seen   standing   at   the    door   of   the   beautiful 


476  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

Nancy   Y ,   the  young  friend  of  former  years, 

who,  by  strange  coincidence,  had  come  there  to  end 
her  days,  close  to  her  friend,  and  each  unconscious 
of  the  other's  presence.     One  day  the  sister  of  Miss 

Y came  to  visit  her,  and  she  asked  an  attendant 

who  that  old  lady  was,  and  why  she  was  unhappy. 

"  It  is  Mrs.  Judge  Lyman,  of  Northampton,"  was 
the  reply;  "and  she  is  unhappy  because  we  will  not 
allow  her  to  go  in  and  take  care  of  your  sister." 

Mrs.    D was    much   affected,   and    said    to  the 

attendant,  "  Once  she  was  almost  the  best  friend  my 
sister  had,  and  now  they  do  not  know  each  other." 

During  the  following  year,  after  her  speech  and 
consciousness  seemed  almost  wholly  gone,  her  attend- 
ant told  Mary  Walker  that  she  held  in  her  hand 
often,  for  hours  together,  a  daguerreotype  of  her  little 
grandson,  Warren  Delano ;  that  she  often  kissed  it, 
and  pressed  it  close  to  her  heart,  and  did  not  like 
to  have  it  taken  from  her,  even  for  a  time. 

In  those  last  years,  my  dear  mother  had  the  kind- 
est care  from  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Tyler,  and  the  excellent 
Miss  Relief  Barbour.  She  attached  herself  warmly 
to  her  attendants,  and  her  movements  and  gestures 
showed  affection  and  confidence,  even  when  the 
power  of  speech  failed  her.  Her  sister  Catherine 
visited  her  frequently  ;  her  son  Joseph  also  came 
often  to  see  her,  with  the  tender  consideration  that 
marked  his  life-long  devotion  to  her.  At  last,  on  a 
beautiful  May  morning  in  1867,  her  spirit  was  re- 
leased from  its  bondage,  the  faithful  Mary  Walker 
Ciosing  her  eyes,- — and  her  sister  and  son  beside  her. 

Her   remains    were   immediately  conveyed  to  the 


THE  END  OF  A  BENEFICENT  LIFE         477 

house  of  her  son  Joseph,  at  Jamaica  Plain ;  and,  on 
the  29th  of  May,  the  funeral  service  took  place  there. 
Her  two  daughters  were  in  Europe  at  the  time  ;  but 
the  eldest  daughter  of  her  husband,  our  brothers  Sam 
and  Edward,  the  new  daughter  she  had  never  seen, 
whom  she  would  have  loved  so  well,  and  many  dear 
friends,  came  to  pay  the  last  respect  to  one  who  had 
been  dead  to  the  world  for  many  years.  The  kind 
Forbes  cousins,  our  friends,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Rufus 
Ellis,  James  Thayer,  and  others, —  all  went;  and, 
forgetting  the  sad  latter  years,  their  minds  reverted 
with  sympathetic  emotion  to  the  long  life  of  active 
beneficence  she  had  lived  among  men.  Mr.  James 
Freeman  Clarke  performed  the  funeral  services,  and, 
though  he  had  not  known  her,  spoke  words  of  com- 
fort that  sank  deep  in  the  heart  of  those  present. 
He  alluded  to  the  words  of  Scripture,  "In  the  midst 
of  life  we  are  in  death,"  and  showed  that  the  reverse 
is  also  true,  that  in  death  there  is  life;  and,  in  this 
connection,  he  spoke  of  the  life  of  her  affections  hav- 
ing outlasted  that  of  her  intellect. 

The  little  company  of  friends  followed  her  body 
to  the  Milton  Cemetery,  where  it  was  laid.  When 
all  the  mourners  had  left  the  grave,  one  warm  and 
grateful  soul  still  lingered.  He  sat  down  by  the 
open  grave,  and  watched  the  last  sods  put  in.  If 
ever  man  might  attribute  all  his  success  in  life  to  his 
own  personal  effort  and  perseverance,  he  might ;  but, 
in  that  hour,  he  thought  only  of  the  helping  hand 
and  warm  heart  beneath  the  sod,  and  followed  her 
freed  spirit  with  grateful  thoughts  into  the  world  of 
spirits. 


473  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

In  Switzerland,  a  letter  from  my  brother  Joseph 
came  to  me  :  — 

"  I  went  to  Milton,"  he  says,  "  to  choose  a  spot 
for  our  mother's  grave.  I  had  long  intended  to  buy 
a  lot,  either  there  or  at  Forest  Hills.  I  chose  this 
place  in  Milton  Cemetery  for  these  reasons.  The 
soil  is  a  clean  gravel.  A  noble  pine-tree  will  make 
constant  music  over  her  head.  It  is  a  tree  like  the 
one  you  have  seen  in  Desor's  Avenue,  at  Combe 
Varin,  which  he  had  dedicated  to  Parker's  memory. 
From  our  dear  mother's  grave,  I  could  look  over  to 
Milton  Hill,  where  she  was  born ;  to  Brush  Hill, 
which  she  loved  so  well,  and  where  she  passed  her 
youth,  and  from  which  home  she  was  married. 
Everywhere  my  eye  fell  was  some  association  dear 
to  her.  So  there  I  will  lay  our  dear  mother's  mortal 
part,  knowing  that  it  will  not  be  long, —  not  so 
long  as  you  think, —  before  I  shall  be  laid  be- 
side her." 

Again  he  wrote :  "  Perhaps  I  ought  to  have 
chosen  Mr.  Ellis  to  perform  her  funeral  services, 
she  loved  him  so  much.  But  at  the  time,  I  only 
thought  that  it  was  very  long  since  she  had  been 
connected  with  any  church ;  and  so  I  naturally 
asked  my  own  minister,  Mr.  Clarke.  It  was  a  great 
satisfaction  to  me  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ellis,  and 
many  other  friends  who  had  not  seen  her  for  years, 
came  to  this  last  service." 

Again  he  wrote  :  "  The  day  is  a  beautiful,  bright, 
clear,  June  day, —  '  Oh,  what  is  so  rare  as  a  day  in 
June ! '  The  spring  blossoms  are  at  their  summit 
of    perfection ;    cherries,    pears,    and    apples   in   the 


THE  OUTLOOK  FROM  HER  GRA  VE  479 

highest  abundance  of  bloom,  and  the  newest  leaves 
on  all  the  trees  out  in  their  most  perfect  and  various 
verdure.  Life  seems  uppermost  everywhere.  But, 
after  all,  what  is  it  ?  Only  an  alternation,  a  constant 
succession,  as  we  feel  this  day,  first  life,  then  death  ; 
and  these  changes,  and  this  particular  change  which 
so  affects  us  at  this  moment,  means  immortality, 
and  nothing  else." 

And  with  these  last  words  of  my  dear  brother 
Joseph  about  our  mother,  I  may  well  close  this 
imperfect  record  of  a  noble  life.  Not  as  an  example 
have  I  wished  to  set  that  life  before  you,  my  dear 
girls  ;  for  the  temperament  and  the  circumstances 
and  the  destiny  of  each  child  of  earth  are  his  own, 
and  not  another's.  But  the  retrospect  of  the  good 
lives  to  whom  we  owe  our  own  existence  exalts  our 
aspiration  and  our  gratitude,  and  excites  our  sym- 
pathy. Like  Mrs.  Southey's  old  family  portraits, 
they  look  down  on  us  from  the  past, — 

"  Daughter,  they  softly  say, 

Peace  to  thy  heart ! 
We  too,  O  daughter, 

Have  been  as  thou  art : 
Hope  lifted,  doubt  depressed, 

Seeing  in  part ; 
Tried,  troubled,  tempted, 

Sustained  as  thou  art : 
Our  God  is  thy  God, 

What  He  willeth  is  best; 
Trust  Him  as  we  trusted, 

Then  rest,  as  we  rest." 

As  a  child  standing  on  the  shore  of  a  river  throws 


480  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

in  his  little  pebble,  and  with  delighted  wonder  sees 
its  ever-widening  circle  reach  the  opposite  shore,  so 
might  those  who  have  gone  before  us  rejoice  to 
know  how  each  good  deed  of  theirs  had  left  a  widen- 
ing circle  in  our  lives. 


APPENDIX. 

WHEN  I  began  to  write  this  life  of  my  mother,  I 
wrote  to  many  early  friends  for  any  letters  they 
might  have  retained  of  hers,  and  any  recollections  they 
might  have  of  her.  The  letters  I  received  in  answer  were 
so  cordial  and  kind,  that  I  have  added  some  of  them  in 
these  pages.  Within  a  few  hours  after  my  mother's  death 
was  made  known,  the  short  but  expressive  notice  of  the 
event  by  James  Thayer  appeared  in  the  "  Boston  Daily 
Advertiser,"  which  is  appended  below ;  and,  within  a  few 
months  of  her  death,  Mr.  Rufus  Ellis,  in  the  article  called 
"  Random  Readings,"  in  the  "  Monthly  Religious  Maga- 
zine," embodied  some  of  his  reminiscences  of  her  later 
life,  which  have  recalled  her  vividly  and  delightfully  to 
many  hearts. 

To  my  friend,  Mr.  William  Greene,  I  wish  to  express 
my  heartfelt  thanks  for  his  long  and  careful  preservation 
of  my  mother's  letters  to  my  Cousin  Abby,  and  for  his 
great  kindness  in  giving  them  to  me,  and  for  the  cordial 
words  accompanying  this  invaluable  package.  In  his 
letter  to  me,  he  writes  :  — 

East  Greenwich,  June  14,  1S75. 

I  beg  to  say  that  I  heartily  sympathize  with  you  in 
your  pious  undertaking.  I  hold  your  mother's  memory, 
and  your  father's  too,  in  the  highest  veneration,  as  I  held 
them  in  their  lives  in  the  warmest  affection.  You  cannot 
say  too  much  good  of  either  of  them. 


482  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

I  cannot  help  also  mentioning  here  that  my  dear  old 
friend,  Mr.  David  Lee  Child,  who  passed  from  earth  last 
winter,  was  about  to  write  a  sketch  of  my  mother  that 
must  have  been  most  interesting,  from  his  vivid  apprecia- 
tion and  warm  recollections  of  her.  His  society  was  for 
many  years  a  rare  pleasure  to  her,  and  she  quoted  his 
wise  and  witty  sayings  with  delight.  One  expression  of 
his  which  she  used  for  years  after,  on  various  occasions, 
is  often  recalled  to  me  by  her  satisfaction  in  it.  She  had 
asked  him  about  the  political  events  of  the  day  which  had 
disturbed  her,  and  his  answer  was:  "Oh,  Mrs.  Lyman, 
when  things  are  in  a  transition  state,  there's  a  great  deal 
of  eccentric  action." 

One  other  dear  friend,  who  had  the  deepest  and  truest 
understanding  of  her  character,  would  gladly  have  written 
a  fitting  memorial  of  her.  I  quote  from  her  warm  and 
appreciative  letter. 

Exeter,  N.H.,  July  21,  1874. 

I  loved  your  mother  dearly ;  I  mourned  for  her  with 
sincere  grief.  First  her  eclipse,  then  her  death,  caused  a 
great  void  in  my  life.  Her  place  has  never  been  filled 
for  me.  Standing  on  my  own  feet  so  much  in  youth,  and 
having  so  much  care  and  responsibility,  you  can  compre- 
hend how  I  reposed  in  the  all-embracing  affluence  of  her 
nature,  and  how  all  chills  and  shivers  were  dispelled, 
while  basking  in  her  sunshine. 

At  the  time  of  your  mother's  death,  I  longed  for  some 
sufficient  testimonial  to  so  large  a  life.  I  shall  take  the 
deepest  interest  in  your  memorial. 

Yours  very  affectionately, 

H.  C.  Stearns. 

The  published  notices  of  my  mother,  to  which  I  have 
referred,  are  here  added. 


HER  INFLUENCE  ON  NORTHAMPTON     483 

[From  the  Boston  Daiy  Advertiser^ 

MRS.    ANNE    JEAN    LYMAN. 

In  that  short  list  of  deaths  which  makes  every  news- 
paper pathetic,  there  appeared  to-day,  in  the  "Advertiser," 
this  notice:  "May  25th,  Mrs.  Anne  J.,  widow  of  the  late 
Hon.  Joseph  Lyman,  of  Northampton,  Mass." 

It  is  due  to  the  memory  of  a  remarkable  woman  and 
to  the  feelings  of  a  very  wide  circle  of  friends  in  this 
community,  by  whom  she  was  admired,  that  something 
more  than  this  should  be  said  of  the  death  of  Mrs. 
Lyman. 

For  thirty-eight  years  she  lived  in  Northampton,  and 
gave  character  to  that  whole  community.  She  was  born 
in  1789,  at  Milton,  the  daughter  of  the  Hon.  E.  H.  Rob- 
bins.  On  the  mother's  side,  she  was  descended  from  a 
vigorous  Scotch  stock  —  the  Murrays  —  among  whose 
living  representatives  in  this  city  are  some  of  our  best 
citizens.  In  181 1,  she  was  married  to  the  Hon.  Joseph 
Lyman,  of  Northampton.  From  that  time  until  the  year 
1849,  sne  lived  with  her  husband  and  the  beautiful  family 
of  children  which  they  reared,  in  one  house  at  Northamp- 
ton, near  the  middle  of  the  village.  Judge  Lyman  was  a 
man  of  high  character  and  influence,  and  of  a  sweet  and 
gracious  demeanor  which  affected  one  like  a  benediction. 
Their  house  was  the  centre  of  wide-spread  hospitality; 
all  that  was  best  and  most  cultivated  in  the  town  had 
there  a  natural  home  and  shelter. 

Mrs.  Lyman  was  a  person  of  a  vigor  of  mind,  a  broad 
and  strong  good  sense,  and  a  quaint,  idiomatic  emphasis 
of  expression  which  gave  general  currency  to  her  opin- 
ions and  her  sayings.  She  was  of  a  noble  and  impressive 
presence,  and  it  was  easy  to  believe  the  traditions  of  the 
beauty  which  had  filled  the  town  with  admiration  when 
she  first  came  there. 


4S4  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

But  the  best  part  of  this  good  woman  was  a  deep  and 
warm  heart,  which  found  expression  in  never-ending 
deeds  of  kindness.  It  stirred  her  up  to  the  most  ener- 
getic and  persistent  efforts  to  help  all  whom  she  had 
once  befriended,  and  to  search  out  new  objects  for  her 
care. 

A  peculiar  and  sad  interest  is  attached  to  the  few 
dosing  years  of  her  life.  It  is  comforting  to  think  that 
she  sleeps  at  last  in  peace.  t. 

May  27,  1867. 

[From  the  Monthly  Religious  Magazine] 

"  A  Leaf  from  my  Autobiography,  in  which,  though  the 
first  pronoun  personal  occwreth  very  of  ten,  the  chief  figure  is 
really  one  better  than  myself.  " 

We  associate  certain  places  with  certain  seasons  of  the 
year.  For  myself  autumn  is,  and  always  will  be,  North- 
ampton. I  always  go  there,  in  thought,  when  the  shadows 
of  the  year  begin  to  lengthen,  and  here  and  there  a 
feebler  leaf,  taking  on  the  hectic  color  before  the  rest, 
predicts  what  is  surely  coming  upon  all.  I  should  go  in 
deed  as  well  as  in  thought,  were  there  not  such  a  ming- 
ling of  joy  and  sorrow  because  of  changes.  It  was  a 
beautiful  day  in  the  earliest  autumn,  when  two  of  us, 
fellow-students  at  C ,  climbed  up  to  the  seat  be- 
hind the  driver  on  the  old  "  Putt's-Bridge  Stage  "  which 
made  the  connection  in  those  days  between  the  Western 
Railroad  and  Northampton.  Long  ago,  in  my  early 
childhood,  I  had  seen  Holyoke  and  Tom,  but  the  visions 
had  passed  into  dreamland,  out  of  which  they  seemed  to 
come  naturally  enough  in  that  refulgent  summer ;  and 
when  we  drew  up  at  length  at  the  Mansion  House,  after 
crossing  the  ferry  at  Hockanum  and  driving  none    too 


MR.  RUFUS  ELLIS'S  ACCOUNT  485 

slowly  through  the  rich,  unfenced  meadows,  the  house  all 
came  back  with  the  associations  of  the  time  when  it  was 
filled  with  summer  strangers  and  the  parents  of  Round 
Hill  scholars.  The  hotel  window  commanded  a  view  of 
the  glories  of  that  magnificent  region,  and,  as  I  could  see 
at  a  glance,  they  were  no  rustics  that  passed  up  and 
down  the  village  streets.  To  the  eyes  of  a  city-bred  and 
college-bred  youth,  the  whole  scene  was  as  beautiful  as  it 
was  fresh.  I  heard,  the  other  day,  of  a  young  man  who 
went  to  "  supply  "  a  pulpit  in  one  of  our  inland  parishes, 
and  was  allowed  to  go  to  the  tavern  unwelcomed,  to  pass 
thence  to  the  church  and  return  twice  during  the  Sunday 
unspoken  to,  except  perhaps  by  the  functionary  who  fails 
not  to  come  for  "  the  metres,"  and  then  to  leave  for  home 
with  no  token  of  recognition  except,  we  may  hope,  the 
usual  honorarium.  It  was  not  so  in  Northampton.  The 
afternoon  had  not  gone  by  before  a  gentleman,  authorized 
and  competent  to  represent  the  little  parish,  had  made 
his  appearance  and  proffered  hospitality;  and  before 
Monday  morning  the  young  preacher  had  met  and  con- 
versed with  several  parishioners  of  both  sexes.  That 
Sunday  proved  to  be  the  first  of  a  six  months'  supply ; 
and  the  supply,  with  the  interval  of  a  twelvemonth  spent 
in  another  field,  was  the  prelude  of  a  ten  years'  ministry, 
—  a  ministry  marked  by  the  utmost  patience  and  kind- 
ness on  the  part  of  the  parishioners,  who,  it  should  ever 
be  remembered,  must  take  their  young  clergyman,  after 
"the  School"  has  done  its  best  and  its  worst  for  him, 
and  give  him  the  most  valuable  part  of  his  training,  and 
help  him  to  convert  his  scholasticisms  into  experience. 

It  was  a  significant  time  in  the  parish.  It  was  the  day 
of  Transcendentalism, —  that  was  the  word  then,  a  word 
almost  forgotten  in  our  swift  years.  I  think  the  "  Dial  " 
was  just  announcing  the  hour  in  the  great  cycle  of   the 


486  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

Ages,  for  the  last  time.  My  predecessor  had  been  a 
favorite  and  valued  contributor  to  the  pages  of  that 
periodical,  and  there  were  those  in  the  congregation  who 
hung  eagerly  upon  his  words.  The  larger  portion,  how- 
ever, preferred  the  old  paths ;  and  so  my  friend  —  for 
such  he  was,  is,  and,  I  trust,  ever  will  be  —  withdrew 
from  his  charge  after  a  very  short  term  of  service,  and,  as 
long  as  he  remained  in  town,  was  my  kind  parishioner. 
All  the  things  which  are  now  called  new  were  discussed 
twenty-five  years  ago  in  that  little  parish,  with  only  a 
little  difference  of  names,  but  with,  I  think,  a  less 
clear  perception  of  the  inevitable  issues.  We  had  it  all 
in  Bible  classes  and  teachers'  meetings,  at  our  pleasant 
tea-parties,  at  our  evening  gatherings,  where  we  were  not 
ashamed  to  eat  Porter  apples  and  boiled  chestnuts,  and 
on  more  stately  occasions ;  for  let  no  one  suppose  that 
we  were  not  sometimes  as  stately  as  the  stateliest,  or  that 
there  were  none  amongst  us  who  had  been  in  king's  pal- 
aces, and  were  fit  to  be  there,  too.  I  can  hardly  recall 
without  a  smile  my  choice  of  a  sermon  for  the  first  Sun- 
day morning.  I  had  the  young  man's  feeling  that  a  Tes- 
timony must  be  uttered ;  and  so  the  preacher  (who,  with  a 
very  hearty  appreciation  of  the  positive  side  of  Transcen- 
dentalism,  especially  as  a  protest  against  the  miraculously- 
confirmed  deism  which  Unitarianism  in  many  quarters  had 
become,  had  no  sympathy  whatever  with  the  Transcen- 
dentalist's  rejection,  or,  worse,  his  patronizing  recognition, 
of  the  everlasting  Symbol  provided  for  the  world  in  the 
incarnate  Word)  took  for  his  text,  "  The  glory  which  thou 
gavest  me  I  have  given  them,  that  they  may  be  one  as  we 
are  one."  Well,  insignificant  as  what  the  young  man  said 
unquestionably  was,  it  was  a  good  key-note. 

I   would  write   rather  of    things   than   of   persons,   but 
what  are  things  save  as  they  pass  into  forms  and  faces 


A   VIEW  OF  THE  LYMAN  HOME  487 

and  deeds,  and  words  and  smiles  and  tears? — so  I  must 
say  something  about  persons.  Of  one,  the  chiefest  chief 
of  them,  even  then  in  the  time  of  his  age  and  of  his 
decaying  faculties,  I  have  elsewhere  set  down  my  impres- 
sions, as  they  were  freshly  made  upon  me.  Poorly 
enough  the  writer  preached  upon  the  "  Christian  in  his 
Village  Home  "  The  Christian  was  Judge  Lyman,  one 
of  New  England's  noblemen,  who  found  his  peers  only 
amongst  the  great  and  good  of  our  land.  Had  he  lived 
anywhere  save  in  that  beautiful  region,  we  should  have 
felt  that  he  was  out  of  place.  But  there  was  another 
whom  we  called  Mrs.  Judge  Lyman.  In  this  year  of  my 
writing,  as  I  reach  this  point  in  my  simple  story,  she  has 
passed  out  of  the  clouds  that  obscured  her  later  years, 
into  the  light  of  our  higher  life.  Admirable  words  — 
they  could  not  have  been  better,  and  were  only  too  few  — 
were  set  down  about  her  character  in  one  of  the  daily 
journals.  I  meant  then  to  have  added  my  testimony. 
Perhaps,  as  the  twelvemonth  is  not  gone,  it  is  not  too  late 
now. 

Walk  from  Round  Hill  with  the  preacher  down  into 
Shop  Row.  He  had  been  in  town  not  more  than  a  day, 
before  he  found  out  that  there  was  one  place,  at  least, 
which  would  be  pretty  sure  to  come  into  his  rounds. 
That  is  the  door.  It  is  on  the  left  hand  of  the  street  as 
you  go  down.  It  is  not  quite  shut.  The  writer  thinks 
that  it  must  have  been  shut  during  the  very  coldest  of 
the  weather,  but  there  is  no  picture  in  his  image-chamber 
of  any  closing,  "  early "  or  late.  I  have  my  doubts 
whether  it  was  not  kept  from  blowing  open  by  some 
peculiar  process  other  than  latching  and  locking.  I  only 
know  that  a  push  sufficed  to  clear  the  way  into  the  hall, 
and  that  a  knock  was  sufficient  to  open  the  parlor.  There 
was  a  little  maid  in   the  house  whose  name,  by  way  of 


488  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

compensating  for  the  smallness  of  her  stature,  her  mis- 
tress was  in  the  habit  of  lengthening  out  by  an  added 
syllable,  which  put  her  upon  the  instant,  so  far  as  words 
could  do  it,  amongst  heroes  and  saints, —  the  Brigittas 
and  the  Theresas  of  mediaeval  times.  This  little  woman, 
however,  did  not  come  much  to  the  door.  There  was  no 
need.  We  will  go  in.  Seated  at  the  farther  end  of  the 
parlor,  by  the  side  of  a  generous  Franklin  stove,  soon  to 
have  a  little  "smudge  "  of  fire  in  it,  morning  and  evening, 
you  will  see  a  lady  not  yet  past  middle  life,  and  yet 
provided  with  spectacles  which  she  seems  to  maintain, 
chiefly,  that  she  may  lose  and  find  them.  Perceiving  at 
once  that  she  is  girt  about  with  all  sorts  of  "  work,"  you 
will  beg  her  not  to  rise,  and  will  get  welcome  enough 
from  her  warm  grasp  and  her  fine,  expressive  face.  What 
is  she  doing?  Many  things,  O  fine  lady  !  It  is  not  her 
train  that  impedes  her  movements  ;  it  is  not  that  her 
hands  are  aesthetically  folded ;  it  is  not  that  she  is  so 
elaborately  got  up  that  to  rise  would  be  an  artistic  move- 
ment not  lightly  to  be  undertaken.  What  is  she  doing  ? 
Shelling  peas,  perhaps ;  not  always  to  the  best  advantage, 
for  peas  will  roll  under  sofas  and  into  nooks  from  which 
it  "  does  not  pay  "  to  extricate  them  with  much  stooping 
and  probing;  darning  stockings,  perhaps, —  what  the  good 
lady  calls  her  "  embroidery,"  and  what  is  indeed  a  very 
useful  kind  of  worsted  work ;  making  a  garment,  perhaps, 
—  a  "  sofa  covering  "  possibly,  for  some  sewing-circle  or 
other  circle-child,  a  little  peculiar  it  may  be  in  the  pat- 
tern, but  very  comfortable,  nevertheless,  in  the  wear.  But 
this  is  not  all;  there  is  a  volume  in  her  lap, —  "Jane 
Eyre,"  we  will  say,  or  "Margaret  Fuller,"  or  some  fresh 
sermon  by  Dr.  Channing,  or  the  last  "  North  American  ; " 
and  as  the  story  deepens  in  interest,  or  the  paragraph 
warms  and  flushes  into  eloquence,  the  peas  fly  about  a 


A  HEART  OF  HOSPITALITY  489 

little  more  wildly,  and  now  and  then  the  needle  goes  into 
the  finger  instead  of  the  stocking.  But  the  reading  stops 
now.  She  loves  the  speech  of  the  liting,  out  of  the  abun-' 
dance  of  the  heart,  better  than  any  dead  words.  You 
have  your  cordial  greeting.  You  have,  henceforth  and 
ever,  your  devoted  friend. 

I  suppose  it  is  so  still,  but  I  know  that  in  those  days 
one  did  not  need  to  go  away  from  N.  to  hear  of  new 
things  in  literature,  in  theology,  in  politics,  in  society.  I 
think  they  came  to  us  amongst  the  first,  and  we  had 
time  enough  to  welcome  and  entertain  them  during 
those  blessed,  long  days.  Here  was  the  old  thought ; 
revering,  believing  heartily  in  the  Gospel  tradition  and 
dear  churchly  things  and  ways.  There,  right  opposite, 
in  the  pleasant  old  house  which  has  modestly  withdrawn 
behind  the  comparatively  new  Town  Hall,  the  new 
thought  uttered  itself  in  kindly,  graceful  speech,  firm  in 
protest  and  dissent,  but  just  and  tender  towards  persons. 
All  came  together  sooner  or  later  into  that  parlor,  as  we 
went  up  and  down  and  in  and  out,  as  we  were  asked  to 
meet  summer  visitors,  or  gathered  on  great  occasions 
when  the  Courts  were  in  session,  or  Webster  and  Choate 
came  to  argue  the  famous  Will  Case.  Did  "  the  Ortho- 
dox "  come?  the  Unitarian  asks,  having  heard,  it  may  be, 
fearful  accounts  of  a  spirit  of  bigotry  stealing  up  from 
Connecticut  along  the  river  banks.  Yes,  "the  Ortho- 
dox "  did  come  ;  the  town  met  in  that  parlor  and  made 
their  social,  if  not  their  theologic,  report.  It  was  a  great 
blessing  to  the  town  that  the  door  of  that  old  dwelling 
was  so  easily  opened,  and  that  the  heart  of  the  household 
was  altogether  a  heart  of  hospitality,  not  only  for  men 
and  women,  but  for  truths  and  what  claimed  to  be  truths. 
We  had  a  "  Community "  within  our  borders  •  and  who- 
soever of   the   Community  was  seized  with  a  consuming 


49°  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

and  irresistible  longing  for  the  fleshpots  of  civilization 
was  welcome  to  fall  back,  within  those  walls,  upon  a  cup 
"of  -proscribed  tea  and  a  denounced  hot  biscuit,  whilst  all 
the  vagaries  of  what  we  voted  "a  transition  age"  were 
quietly  ventilated.  All  could  come,  because  our  friend 
was  a  large-minded,  large-hearted,  hospitable  woman, 
eager  not  to  divide  but  to  gather  and  bind,  earnest  with- 
out narrowness  and  bigotry,  a  great  blessing  to  a  village. 
And  she  was  so  ready,  so  eager  to  serve !  Was  it  a 
young  man  whose  way  to  Harvard  was  to  be  smoothed 
and  otherwise  provided  for  ?  He  could  count  upon  her 
friendly  offices ;  he  could  be  sure  that  she  would  not  fail 
him  until  the  end  had  been  reached.  She  was  a  good 
friend,  so  good  that,  when  the  movement  was  reversed 
and  the  force  turned  the  other  way,  she  could  flash  into 
wrath  which  did  not  smoulder  into  sullenness  and  mali- 
ciousness. Her  quaint  and  racy  speech,  which  alas !  has 
perished  with  her,  was  a  source  of  infinite  entertainment 
to  the  young  preacher ;  and  when  it  was  brought  to  bear, 
as  it  sometimes  was,  against  some  of  his  ministerial 
"juveniles,"  in  word  or  deed,  it  always  did  him  good, 
whether  for  the  moment  he  liked  the  medicine  or  not, — 
for  "faithful  are  the  wounds  of  a  friend,"  and  here  was 
one  who  was  a  friend,  first  and  last  and  midway,  only  a 
friend.  When  he  seemed  to  be  running  low,  she  pro- 
vided, not  bitter  words,  but  a  pot  of  wormwood  tea, 
which  she  persuaded  the  young  parson  to  drink,  hoping 
that,  somehow,  it  would  get  into  his  sermons.  Is  there 
any  such  parlor  there  in  these  days  ?  Is  there  any  house 
which  has  been  such  a,  I  will  not  say  "  saint's  rest,"  but 
minister's  home?  What  one  of  our  elder  clergymen  of 
those  who  have  begun  with  me  to  delight  in  "  reminis- 
cences" has  not  slept  under  that  roof,  or  preached  in 
that  pulpit,  or  felt  the  force  of  the  words  of  the  exasper- 


A  REVIEW  OF  CHANGES  491 

ated  man  who  tried  to  keep  the  Mansion  House,  and 
declared  that  "it  was  no  use,  for  Judge  Lyman  invited 
everybody  who  came  to  town  to  stay  with  him  "  ?  I  won- 
der how  the  conflict  of  the  two  thoughts  gets  on  ?  Has 
the  Community  taken  up  all  the  religious  radicalism?  I 
could  see  no  change  in  my  day  ;  each  combatant  stood 
by  his  and,  I  ought  to  add,  "  her "  (for  we  were  mostly 
women)  guns.  Emigration  and  death  were  the  only 
causes  of  change  in  the  relative  numbers.  It  will  take 
more  time  than  a  lifetime,  even  in  these  days,  when  we 
think  or  at  least  talk  so  fast,  for  a  distracted  Liberalism, 
numbering  its  adherents  now  in  all  churches,  orthodox 
and  heterodox,  to  find  the  higher  unity  which  the  fact  of 
the  incarnation,  freed  from  the  scholasticisms  of  theology, 
will  surely  become  to  all  who  are  Christians,  in  any  sense 
which  a  man  of  common  sense  need  take  into  account. 
To  go  to  Northampton  during  that  beautiful  season  when 
its  atmosphere  is  not  too  warm,  and  its  glories  have  lost 
none  of  their  gloriousness,  would  be  to  find  much,  very 
much,  that  is  delightful ;  but  it  would  be  to  find  the  old 
house  changed,  and  the  old  forms  vanished,  the  old  inter- 
locutors silent,  even  the  old  words  changed.  They  talk 
about  theisms  now,  and  free  thought,  and  right  wing  and 
left  wing.  Is  it  strange  that  the  writer  does  not  care  to  go  ? 
I  began  with  a  walk  down  town.  I  got  only  so  far  as 
one  dwelling.  I  began  with  that  first  Saturday  after  the 
Master's  Degree  had  been  taken,  and  the  work  of  life  had 
been  seriously  entered  upon.  I  got  no  farther  than  that 
first  Sunday.  How  many  walks,  how  many  Sundays 
followed  !  How  many  houses  became  homes,  and  would 
be  still,  I  think !  Shall  I  ever  have  time  to  carry  on 
these  chapters?  —  to  take  some  one  with  me  to  my  first 
Association  (pronounced  then,  by  the  elders  in  all  that 
region,    without    the    second    syllable, —  "Association"), 


492  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

where,  to  my  great  dismay,  I  was  accounted  a  Transcen- 
dentalism and,  on  the  whole,  a  dangerous  young  man  ?  — 
to  go  over  in  some  congenial  company  to  see  those  dear 
old  saints  in  Hadley ;  that  calm  old  man,  quietly  farming 
and  theologizing  upon  his  broad,  rich  meadow,  not  know- 
ing what  a' stir  the  son  who  returned  on  that  Saturday, 
for  his  vacation,  was  destined  to  make  in  our  Zion ;  that 
true  Christian  woman,  his  wife ;  that  courtly  and  melan- 
choly and  wise  and  honorable  and  large-minded  gentle- 
man, under  the  evergreens  in  the  brown  house  opposite  ? 
—  to  drive  up  the  river  and  talk  with  the  old  blind 
preacher  in  Deerfield  ?  Perhaps  so ;  but  for  the  present 
this  chapter  must  suffice,  and,  instead  of  writing  personal 
history,  I  must  be  making  it ;  and  what  I  most  wished 
was  to  say  a  word  about  my  dear  old  friend,  Mrs.  L. 

E.* 

Mrs.  L.  Maria  Child  to  Mrs.  Lesley. 

Dear  Susan, —  I  am  glad  to  hear  that  you  are  pre- 
paring a  memorial  of  your  large-souled  mother,  for  the 
benefit  of  her  grand-children.  She  and  your  excellent 
father  are  among  the  noblest  pictures  in  my  Gallery  of 
Memory.  I  recall  very  vividly  those  old  times  in  North- 
ampton, when  we  occupied  a  pew  next  to  yours,  and 
listened  to  the  pleasant  preaching  of  John  S.  Dwight. 
His  soul  was  then,  as  now,  harmoniously  attuned  to  all 
lovely  sig-hts  and  sounds,  and  he  seemed  then,  as  he  does 
now,  like  the  poetic  child  in  the  "  Story  without  an  End," 
who  went  meandering  through  creation,  wondering  at  its 
multiform  miracles,  and  earnestly  questioning  all  its 
forms  of  beauty. 

It  was  one  of  my  delights  at  that  time  to  observe  your 
father  and  mother,  as  they  walked  up  the  aisle  of  the 
church.     They  had  such  a  goodly  presence  !     One  rarely 


LYDIA   MARIA   CHILD'S  LETTER  493 

sees  a  couple  so  handsome,  after  they  have  passed  the 
meridian  of  their  life  ;  and  their  bearing  was  an  imper- 
sonation of  unpretending  dignity.  Your  mother  espe- 
cially was  as  stately  in  her  motions,  as  if  she  had  been 
reared  in  the  atmosphere  of  royalty. 

We  always  liked  each  other;  but  in  many  respects  it 
was  the  attraction  of  opposites.  I  was  a  born  radical, 
and  her  training  had  been  eminently  conservative.  Both 
of  us  were  by  temperament  as  direct  and  energetic  as 
a  locomotive  under  high-pressure  of  steam,  and  coming 
full  tilt  from  opposite  directions  we  often  met  with  a 
clash ;  but  no  bones  were  ever  broken.  After  such 
encounters,  we  shook  hands  and  laughed,  and  indulged 
in  a  little  playful  raillery  at  each  other's  vehemence. 
She  was  too  sincere  to  deny  any  proposition  that  she 
perceived  to  be  right  and  true,  however  much  it  might  be 
at  variance  with  her  preconceived  opinions. 

I  often  wondered  that  she  had  a  liking  for  me.  I  sup- 
pose the  earnestness  of  my  convictions,  and  the  fearless 
honesty  with  which  I  expressed  them,  proved  attractive 
to  her  because  her  own  nature  was  in  sympathy  with 
those  traits ;  and  I  imagine  she  rather  enjoyed  the  onset 
of  our  antagonisms  as  a  sort  of  intellectual  tournament. 

My  attraction  toward  her  is  easily  explained.  I  de- 
lighted in  her  earnestness,  her  energy,  her  abhorrence  of 
all  sorts  of  shams,  her  uprightness  of  principle,  and  her 
large  views  of  men  and  things  ;  and  even  when  her 
opinions  were  most  at  variance  with  my  own,  I  honored 
the  downright  sincerity  with  which  she  expressed  them, 
and  I  greatly  enjoyed  the  raciness  of  humor  which  she 
often  employed  in  their  defence.  Aristocratic  she  un- 
doubtedly was  ;  but  not  in  any  narrow  sense.  She  rose 
with  a  lofty  disdain  above  all  distinctions  that  were 
merely  conventional  and  external.      I  have   often  smiled 


494  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

at  the  impetuosity  with  which  she  upon  some  occasions 
manifested  this  quality  in  my  defence.  .  .  .  The  genuine 
inborn  nobleness  of  her  character  often  flashed  out  in 
this  way,  in  fine  scorn  of  all  pretension  and  sham. 

I  left  Northampton,  and  years  passed  without  my  see- 
ing her.  Meanwhile,  her  good  husband  passed  away,  and 
his  moral  worth  left  a  fragrance  in  the  memory  of  all  who 
knew  him.  Her  children  had  formed  households  of  their 
own.  You,  dear  Susan,  had  married  P.  L.,  whose  mind 
was  absorbed  in  science,  while  his  heart  was  deeply 
interested  in  all  that  concerned  the  welfare  of  his  fellow- 
beings.  It  was  after  the  hospitable  old  homestead  in 
Northampton  was  broken  up,  and  its  inmates  scattered 
abroad,  that  I  again  met  your  mother.  After  cordial  salu- 
tations and  a  few  mutual  inquiries,  I  said,  "  Do  you  re- 
member the  lively  encounters  we  used  to  have  about 
Anti-slavery  ?  How  do  you  feel  upon  that  subject  now  ?  " 
"  I  hardly  know  what  to  say,"  she  replied.  "  Between 
you  and  Peter,  you  have  got  me  on  the  fence,  and  I  don't 
know  which  way  I  shall  jump."  I  answered  very  quickly, 
But  I  know,  Mrs.  Lyman.  You  will  be  certain  to  jump 
on  the  right  side.     You  cannot  do  otherwise." 

The  largeness  of  her  nature  showed  itself  in  generous 
hospitality  and  delight  in  doing  pleasant  things  for  others. 
I  shall  never  forget  her  many  kind  attentions  to  my  dear 
husband,  when  circumstances  compelled  me  to  be  absent 
from  him.  We  still  keep,  as  precious  relics,  some  pieces 
of  a  velvet  wrapper  which  she  gave  him,  and  the  sight  of 
them  always  recalls  pleasant  and  grateful  recollections 
of  her. 

When  I  last  saw  your  mother,  her  bright  and  active 
mind  was  over-clouded  by  physical  infirmities  and  in- 
creasing years  ;  but  even  then  gleams  of  her  native  humor 
broke  through  the  gathering  mist,  like  sunshine  flashing 


DR.  AUSTIN  FLINTS  LETTER  495 

out  between  the  drifting  clouds  of  a  darkening  sky.     Her 
earthly  light  went  out  in  darkness ;  but  the  spirit,  disen- 
cumbered  of  external   obstacles,  shows  only  its  interioi 
qualities, —  and  hers  were  good,  bright,  and  noble. 
Always  your  affectionate  friend, 

L.  Maria  Child. 

Dr.  Austin  Flint*  to  Mrs.  Lesley. 

New  York,  Sept.  13,  1S74. 

Dear  Mrs.  Lesley, —  In  accordance  with  your  wishes, 
conveyed  to  me  in  a  letter  from  Mrs.  Briggs,  I  shall  send 
you  several  letters  written  by  your  dear  mother.  In 
reading  her  letters  to-day,  I  have  lived  over  the  period 
when  her  sympathy  and  affection  were  so  much  to  me 
and  mine.  My  heart  has  been  filled  with  love  for  her, 
and  often  I  could  not  refrain  from  tears. 

I  have  endeavored  a  brief  sketch,  but  it  does  neither 
her  memory  nor  me  justice,  and  do  not  hesitate  therefore, 
if  you  think  best,  not  to  introduce  it.  I  shall  send  the 
package  by  express. 

I  earnestly  hope  that  your  mother  is  now  cognizant  of 
the  affection  and  gratitude  which,  in  common  with  her 
descendants,  my  wife  and  I  feel  whenever  we  think  of 
her.  My  recollections  of  your  mother  always  awaken 
emotions  of  love  and  reverence.  It  were,  indeed,  proof 
of  heartlessness  and  ingratitude,  if  I  did  not  cherish  her 
memory  with  deep  affection. 

When  I  was  beginning  my  professional  life  in  North- 
ampton, she  was  a  sympathizing,  devoted  friend  to  my 
wife  and  myself.  A  tender  mother  could  not  have  been 
more  kind;  and  in  her  letters  after  we  had  left  North- 
ampton,   she    often    addressed    us   as  her  children.     She 

•i'rofcsx.r.il   tl„    Principles  and  Practice  ol  Medicine  and  cif  Clinical  Medicine 
in  the  liellcvue  Hospital,  .Medical  Curlege,  St.,  Jtc,  New  York. 


496  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

confided,  when  I  commenced  practice,  herself  and  her 
family  to  my  care,  and  thus,  by  her  example  and  influ- 
ence, the  struggles  incident  to  this  early  period  of  my 
professional  life  were  much  less  than  they  would  other- 
wise have  been.  At  this  time  I  was  under  obligations 
to  her,  for  her  encouragement  and  wise  counsels,  more 
than  I  can  adequately  express. 

Of  the  social  position  and  influence  of  your  mother 
you  may  justly  be  proud.  She  was  truly  a  queen  among 
women.  No  one  could  be  in  her  company  without  being 
impressed  with  the  fact  that  her  endowments  were  of  a 
superior  order.  With  much  beauty  of  countenance  were 
combined  intellectuality,  dignity,  refinement ;  and  to 
these  were  added  grace  and  graciousness  of  manner. 
The  homage  which  she  received  was  not  obtained  by  art 
or  effort,  but  was  the  spontaneous  offering  of  those  around 
her.  She  was  ever  ready  to  listen  and  respond  to  the 
claims  of  philanthropy.  She  was  ready  at  all  times  to 
promote  intellectual  pursuits  and  pleasures,  especially 
among  the  younger  members  of  society.  I  recollect  in 
my  boyhood  days  in  Northampton,  there  was  a  Literary 
Society,  composed  chiefly  of  young  persons,  to  which 
were  submitted  original  poems,  promiscuous  essays,  and 
profoundly  metaphysical  disquisitions.  Although  then  a 
mother  of  children  of  mature  age,  she  was  not  merely  a 
patroness  but  an  active  member  of  this  society,  furnish- 
ing her  quota  of  written  contributions.  These  were  of  a 
high  order,  and  it  would  have  been  an  easy  task  for  her 
to  have  become  distinguished  as  a  writer.  Her  conver- 
sational powers  were  remarkable.  She  was  not  chary  of 
her  gifts  in  this  regard ;  but  her  conversation  was  so  full 
of  interest  and  instruction  that  she  never  appeared  to  talk 
too  much.  The  exercise  of  her  conversational  powers  was 
entirely  devoid  of  pedantry  or  assumption.     The  sayings 


R.   IV.  EMERSON'S  LETTER  497 

of  no  one  at  that  time  and  place  were  oftener  repeated ; 
but  the  wit  and  humor  which  characterized  them  never 
hurt  the  feelings  of  others  :  she  was  far  above  a  spirit  of 
ridicule  or  detraction. 

When  it  is  said  that  she  was  the  worthy  wife  of  your 
honored  father,  one  must  have  known  him  and  his  home 
to  appreciate  all  that  is  expressed  in  this  statement. 
Judge  Lyman  was  in  truth  a  "gentleman  of  the  old 
school,"  in  the  fullest  and  highest  sense  of  this  expres- 
sion. His  house  represented  the  highest  idea  of  domes- 
tic life  and  elegant  hospitality,  forty  years  ago,  in  one  of 
the  most  intellectual,  cultivated,  and  refined  sections  of 
New  England. 

I  sympathize  with  you  in  your  undertaking  to  prepare 
a  memorial  for  distribution  among  your  mother's  descend- 
ants, and  surviving  friends.  There  are  many  living  who 
knew  her  in  her  days  of  health,  during  your  father's 
life,  who  are  much  more  capable  than  I  am  of  delineating 
her  superior  endowments  and  beautiful  traits  of  character. 
But  no  one,  more  than  I,  of  those  not  connected  by  ties 
of  blood,  can  cherish  her  memory  with  greater  affection 
and  reverence.  Very  truly  yours, 

Austin  Flint. 

Mr.  R.  IV.  Emerson  to  Mrs.  Lesley. 

Concord,  July  26,  1S74. 
My  dear  Mrs.  Lesley,  .  .  .  Your  father  and  herself 
made  me  their  guest  in  their  house  at  Northampton,  in 
my  young  days,  when  Rev.  Mr.  Hall  left  me  in  charge 
of  his  pulpit  for  a  few  Sundays.  I  had  not  then,  and 
I  cannot  believe  that  I  have  since,  seen  so  stately  and 
naturally  distinguished  a  pair  as  Judge  and  Mrs.  Lyman. 
Your  mother  was  then  a  queenly  woman,  nobly  formed, 
in  perfect  health,  made  for  society,  with  flowing  conversa- 


498  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  MY  MOTHER 

tion,  high  spirits,  and  perfectly  at  ease, —  understanding 
and  fulfilling  the  duties  which  the  proverbial  hospitality 
of  your  house  required.  Judge  Howe  came  daily  to  the 
house, —  Judge  Wilde  was  a  guest, —  Mr.  Ashmun,  later 
Law  Professor  at  Harvard  ;  the  patroon  Van  Rensselaer 
from  Albany,  and  his  daughter,  were  guests  one  day  while 
I  was  there,  and  others.  But  no  guests  came,  or  could 
come,  I  thought,  who  surpassed  the  dignity  and  the  intel- 
ligence of  the  hosts.  It  cost  them  no  effort  to  preside  or 
to  please.  Your  mother, —  I  remember  how  much  she 
interested  me  one  day,  by  a  narrative  of  the  romantic 
history  of  Mrs.  Mills,  wife  of  the  senator,  and  then  car- 
ried me  to  the  house  and  introduced  me  to  their  daugh- 
ters,—  one  of  whom,  I  believe,  afterwards  became  Mrs. 
Huntington,  and  the  other  Mrs.  Peirce.  My  visit  was 
shortened  by  two  days,  by  a  kind  arrangement  which  was 
made  for  me,  by  your  mother,  with  Judge  Howe  who  was 
going  to  hold  a  Court  at  Lenox ;  and  I  was  to  drive  his 
horse  and  chaise  thither  to  bring  him  home,  and  thereby 
make  the  acquaintance  of  Miss  Catherine  Sedgwick  at 
Stockbridge,  which  was  happily  accomplished.  Since 
that  time  I  have  rarely  seen  your  mother,  and  only  it 
seems  for  moments, —  once  at  her  house  in  Cambridge, 
where  she  introduced  me  to  Chauncey  Wright.  I  grieve 
that  I  can  add  so  little  to  your  own  memories. 
Yours  affectionately, 

R.  W.  Emerson. 


INDEX. 


Abbot,  Rev.  Julian,  zjo. 

Abdication,  a  talismanic  word,  355. 

Abolitionists,  how  regarded,  95. 

Adam  Blair  read,  203. 

Adams's  (J.  Q.)  picture,  her  remem- 
brance of  him,  404. 

Advice  to  a  son  on  his  travels,  334 ;  to 
a  young  mother,  403 ;  to  a  college 
student,  407. 

Affectation,  444. 

Akenside  quoted,  289. 

Aikin's  Queen  Elizabeth's  Court  read, 
144. 

AH  Bey's  Travels  in  Africa  read,  116. 

Allen  (President),  372. 

Allen  (Richard  L.)  married  Sally  Lyman 
in  1834,  293,  397. 

Amateur  theatricals,  217. 

Ames  (Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fisher),  described, 
42. 

An  angel  unawares,  226. 

Anacharsis  read,  148. 

Anecdote^:  the  two  bed-mates  at 
school,  34;  the  silver  spoon,  35;  the 
christening  and  baby's  cap,  76 ;  the 
Bideful  family  in  the  cupboard,  81  ; 
the  Boston  stage-driver,  86 ;  a  book- 
trade  transaction  before  the  days  of 
expressage,  150;  Miss  C.  B.,  155; 
a  fall  from  a  tree  sends  the  fut- 
ure judge  to  college,  172;  where  is 
heaven?  175;  the  first  collection  of 
liberals,  176;  Old  Parson  Williams, 
175;  the  tract  distributor,  189;  how 
Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  came  to  be 
her  guest,  225;  impromptu  rebuke, 
246;  IJebby  Barker's  loyalty  to  King 
George  in  1830,  259;  the  boy  tor- 
menting a  chicken,  261;  twins  a 
medicine  for  a  broken  leg,  272;  the 
ten  gold  pieces,  2^0;  Eliza  Robbins's 
reply  to  the  poet  Bryant,  308;  her 
use  of  language,  308;  wonderful  phe- 
nomena following  two  deaths,  314; 
Miss  Edgeworth's  Helen,  32c),  330; 
old  black  Billah  at  the  judge's  dinner- 
table,  340;  a  day  dream,  347;  kiss- 
ing by  proxy,  349;  better  give  up 
and  go  to  board,  349;  the  young  lire 
worshippers,  350;  Martha  Cochran's 
card,  351;  how  the  sewing  circle  was 
saved,  352;  plain  advice,  353;  David 
Child's  speculation,  354;  the  seduced 
girl's  baby,  357;    the  wedding  trous- 


seau, 357;  Judge  Huntington's  peace 
offering,  358;  the  unfashionable  bon- 
net. 359  >  the  argument  against  hered- 
ity, 360;  Almira's  soup  for  Judge 
Shaw,  363  :  Dr.  Atwater's  dwarf,  367; 
the  midnight  fire  and  Jane  Eyre, 
395;  Judge  Lyman's  old  age,  413; 
the  new  bird,  415  ;  the  maid-servant's 
gratitude,  416;  the  embroidered  pet- 
ticoat, 418;  the  girl  who  would  not 
read,  419;  gossip  over  bad  servants, 
419  ;  Judge  Shaw's  profound  thoughts, 
423  ;  new  shoes  for  the  invited  little 
guest,  425  ;  the  Shakspeare  readings, 
427;  the  converted  young  friend,  430; 
a  personal  devil  indispensable,  430; 
the  astral  lamp,  430;  a  Christian 
feller  cretur,  431;  Mrs.  Hall's  new 
babies,  431;  blue  mortification,  433; 
cotton  garters  for  an  emergency,  436; 
the  expelled  mischief-maker,  438; 
the  marchioness  punished,  439;  that 
piece  of  pretension  and  affectation, 
443  ;  the  two  families  that  didn't 
speak,  447;  the  new  bonnet,  463; 
the  Irish  wake,  464;  Dr.  Robbins 
an  institution,  467;  the  invalid,  475; 
the  two  friends  who  lost  their  mem- 
ory, 476. 

Apthorp  (Harrison),  389. 

Arboriculture  made  profitable  by  Mrs. 
Griffiths,  247. 

Ashmun  (Hooker),  a  student,  191;  in- 
augurated professor  at  Cambridge 
1829,  249. 

Aurora  of  January,  1S37,  after  Anne's 
death,  314. 


Balestier  (Mrs.),  149. 

Bancroft  (George)  in  1823  ar>d  after,  29, 
190,  2io,  222,  277. 

Bancroft  (Miss),   141. 

Bangs  (Miss),  343. 

Barbauld's  works,  224. 

Barbour  (Miss),  476. 

Barker  (the  three  Misses),  described,  44. 

Barker  (.Mrs.),  Co. 

Barlow  (Joel)  at  Vale  College,  173. 

Barnard  (Mr.  and  Mrs.),  122,  253,  312, 
338. 

Beach  (Miss),  boarding-school,  34. 

Bearing  children  the  best  of  occupa- 
tions, 356. 


5°° 


INDEX 


Beck  (Mr.),  married  1826,  222. 

Beecher  (Harriet),  prize  tale,  289. 

Beneficences,  259. 

Bennet  (the  two  Scotch  aunts),  17. 

Bent  (Ann),  32,  37. 

Betts  (Judge),  367. 

Bigelow  (Rev.),  254. 

Billah,  the  Massachusetts  slave,  340. 

Black  Dwarf  criticised,  127. 

Bliss  (Mrs.),  294. 

Bloody  Brook  celebration,  September, 
1835,  296. 

Bonaparte  (Joseph),  described,  141. 

Books  read  by  the  girls  at  Brush  Hill, 
51  ;  read  by  Sally  Howe  in  18 10,  63  ; 
read  at  Northampton,  81 ;  at  Worth- 
ington,  114;  reviewed  in  1822,  159; 
evil  if  poor,  202;  that  "furnish  an 
additional  quantity  of  vulgarity  to  con- 
template," 328. 

Bradford  (George  P.),  248. 

Bradford's  History  of  Massachusetts 
read,  164. 

Bradford's  notions  of  materialism,  169. 

Breakfast  hour  in  the  old  home,  417. 

Bremer's  (Miss)  works  appreciated,  380. 

Brewer  (Elizabeth),  282. 

Brewer  (Stephen),  23,  278,  375. 

Brilliant  conversation,  350. 

Brimmer  famiiv,  43. 

Brinley  (Mrs.),' 368. 

Brooks  (Mrs.),  140. 

Brush  Hill,  built  1734;  occupied  by 
Nathaniel  Robbms  1804;  family  life 
there  described,  21,  36,  38. 

Bryant  (William  Cullen),  100;  (Dr.) 
101;  (Rush)  268. 

Bulfmch  (Rev.  and  Mrs.),  333,  426. 

Bulwer's  works  criticised,  295. 

Burns  appreciated,  460. 

Burty,  the  old  nurse,  77. 

Byron's  poems  appear,  114. 

Cabot  (Eliza),  62,  157. 

Calvinism    in    Northampton    described, 

171 ;  its  zeal  discussed,  184. 
Cambridge  homes,  1853,  1856,  469,  470, 
Camilla  read,  132. 
Campbell  (the  poet),  128. 
Campbell  (the  widow),  36. 
Gary  (Mrs.),  described,  146,  270. 
Chalmers,  197. 
Channing,  265,  454. 
Charley's  Hope  nursery  for  trees,  246. 
Child  (David  and  Maria),  346,  354,  481. 
Children,    the    joys    and    sorrows    they 

bring,  198. 
Cholera  year,  1832,  273. 
Christian  Examiner,  203. 
Christianity  discussed,  178. 
Church  society  organized  Feb.  22,  1823, 

183. 
Churchill  house  on  Milton  Hill,  17. 
Clapp  (Harriet  and  Caroline),  151,  383. 
Clarence  read,  262. 
Clarendon  quoted,  137. 


Clark  (Justin),  154. 

Clarke  (Julia),  389. 

Clarke  (Thomas)  in  1658,  30. 

Clay  (Henry),  speech  against  abolition, 

338. 
Cochran  (Martha),  347. 
Codman  (Dr.),  265. 
Cogswell,  190. 
Combe  Varin,  478. 
Communion  in  Anne  Jean's  chamber, 

326. 
Congeniality  in  marriage  discussed,  147 
Constant  (Benjamin)  read,  370. 
Cooper  and  Scott  contrasted,  1822,  151. 
Copley's  portrait  of  Aunt  Forbes,  70. 
Court-week  party,  422. 
Cousin  Marshall  read,  275. 
Cultivating  the  understanding,  269. 
Cushing  (Mrs.),  60,  274. 
Cutter  (Mrs.),  276. 
Cuvier's  life  and  portrait,  287. 
Cynicism  pestilential,  359. 

Dana  (Mr.),  327. 

Darning  stockings  her  embroidery,  416. 

Dawes  (Judge),  88.  _ 

Dead  children  as  living  as  the  living,  386. 

Deaf,  dumb,  and  blind  for  policy,  448. 

Death  in  May,  1867,  476. 

Degerando's  On  Self-education  read, 
373- 

Delano  (Warren),  381,  391,  397. 

Described  by  her  daughter,  71. 

Desor's  Avenue  at  Combe  Varin,  478. 

De  Tocqueviile  recommended,  336. 

Devil  necessary,  430. 

De  Wette's  Ethics  read,  370. 

Dewey  (Judge),  367. 

Dial  (The),  374. 

Dickens's  visit,  works  criticised,  379, 
380. 

Dickinson  (George),  389. 

Dignity  is  not  worth  nursing,  357. 

Dikeman  (Mrs.),  364. 

Dinner-time  at  the  old  home,  419. 

Dirt  on  the  brain,  365. 

Disparity  of  year.,  felt  later  on,  451. 

Dix  (Mrs.),  57. 

Donnison  (Miss),  471. 

Don't  abdicate,  353. 

Dorchester  Academy,  34. 

Dramas  acted,  1826-1833,  217,  281,  389. 

Drayton  (Hannah),  339. 

Dress  in  1815-1829,  39,  253,  434. 

Drew  (John),  a  Milton  character,  339. 

Dwight  (Aunt),  74;  (Sarah)  139;  (Rev. 
J.  S.)  called,  345;  settled,  369;  un- 
settled, 374;  Life  of  Jefferson,  343. 

Early  letters,  56. 

Eccentric  action,  481. 

Edgeworth's  Life,  132. 

Education  of  little  children,  43S. 

Edwards  Church  in  Northampton,  430. 

Ellery  (Elizabeth),  1822,  158. 

Ellis  (Rev.  Rufus),  66,  227,  351,  379- 


INDEX 


501 


Emerson  (Charles),  1827,  226. 
Emerson  (George  B.),  school  in  Boston, 

250. 
Emerson   (R.    Waldo),   appears  first  in 

Northampton,   226 ;   views  on   death, 

242;    on    immortality,    256;    lecture, 

1849,  466;  last  visit,  472. 
Emery  (Margaret),  160. 
Enjoyment  discussed,  196. 
Enthusiasm  for  carpets,  445. 
Erskine's  Speeches,  116. 
Essay  on  Education,  277. 
Eustace's  Tour  in  Italy,  116. 
Evening;  parties  at  the  old  home,  421. 
Everett  s  eloquence,  143  ;  oration,  296. 
Excursion  to  Saratoga,  1821,  140. 
Experience  better  than  books,  309. 

Factory  Village  described,  278. 

Faith  in  Providence,  221. 

Farm  life  in  1805,  39. 

Feed  the  mind,  266. 

Ferdinand  and  Isabella  read,  378. 

Fichte's  Nature  of  the  Scholar  read,  370. 

Finances  of  the  Northampton  family,  406. 

First-born  child,  181 2,  89. 

Fisher  (Redwood),  367. 

Flattery  in  excess  a  slow  poison,  338. 

Flint  (Dr.  and  Anne).  See  Letters,  265, 
306. 

Follen  (Dr.),  lost  on  the  Lexington,  275, 
344- 

Forbes  (Bennet),  25. 

Forbes  (Dorothy),  36;  death  in  1811,69. 

Forbes  (Emma),  described.  See  Letters, 
38,  196,  206. 

Forbes  mansion  on  Milton  Hill,  32. 

Ford  (Nathaniel),  58. 

Foreign  travel  regarded,  207. 

Fowler  (James),  199,  366;  (Fanny)  388. 

French  talked  by  the  Worthington  chil- 
dren, 128. 

Friendship  discussed,  137,  222,  446. 

Front  door  always  open,  4H6. 

Frothingham  (Rev.  F.),  Milton,  18,  289. 

Gannett  on  Unitarianism  quoted,  170. 

Gay  (Mr.),  57. 

(ieraldine  read,  148. 

Gild  your  lot  with  contentment,  353. 

Girlhood  at  Brush  Hill,  47. 

Girls  of  New  England  in  1805,  48. 

Good's  Hook  of  Nature,  1833,  281. 

Gordon  (Lady  Duff),  456. 

Gorham  (Dr.),  193. 

Gorton's  Glass  for  the  People  of  New 

England,  28. 
Gossip  as  necessary  as  the  air  we  breathe, 

372- 

Grant  (Mrs.),  seminary  for  boys  in  Scot- 
land, 141. 

Grant's  Sketches  on  Intellectual  Educa- 
tion, 1 14. 

Great  Western  steamship,  1839,  341. 

Greeley's  lecture,  401 . 

Greene  (Mr.  and  Mrs.),  120,  24S,  480. 


Green  Vale,  Conn.,  home  of  Mrs.  Mur- 
ray, 64. 
Greenwood  Cemetery  in  1846,  395. 
Griffith  (Mrs.),  described,  246. 
Groves  were  God's  first  temples,  279. 
Gurney  (Mr.),  472. 

Hale  (Lucretia),  439. 

Hall  (Rev.  E.  B.),  in  1823,  177,  183,  216, 
222,  225. 

Hamilton's  (Mrs.)  works,  225. 

Happy  are  they  who  are  under  press  of 
business,  371. 

Harding  family,  169,  332,  391. 

Hartford  Convention,  1814,  88. 

Hassan  and  Ali  in  Egypt,  456. 

He  fifty,  1  fifteen,  412. 

He  seventy,  I  seventeen,  413. 

Healthful  stimulus  of  prospective  want 
409. 

Heartiness  in  the  household,  346. 

Heckewelder's  account  of  the  Indians, 
202. 

Hedge's  review  of  Emerson's  Essays, 
39'- 

Hemans's  works,  224. 

Henshaw  (Mr.),  140. 

Hentz  (Mr.  and  Mrs.),  197,  211. 

Hillard  (G.  S.  and  Susan),  191,  379. 

Hillhouse's  Last  Judgment,  142. 

Hinckley  (Mrs.),  death,  342. 

Hingham  visits,  and  Tories,  58,  259. 

History  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers,  378. 

Hitchcock  (Dr.),  295. 

Hoar  (Elizabeth),  320. 

Hockanum  ferrv,  483. 

Holbrook  (Dr.)J  of  Milton,  31. 

Home  life  in  1840,  413. 

Hope  Leslie  read  and  praised,  225. 

Hopkins  (President),  lecture,  1845,  39°- 

Hopkinson  (Mrs.),  471. 

Hospitality  of  the  old  home,  418. 

Housekeeping  sixty  years  ago,  362. 

How  would  you  like  it  ?  340. 

Howard  (Mrs.  John),  306;  (Betsey),  347  ; 
(Sophia),  350. 

Howe  (Dr.  Estes), description  of  Nathan- 
iel Robbins,  20. 

Howe  (Mrs.  Lois),  472;  (Miss  Mary) 
387  ;  (Miss  Sarah)  account  of  the 
Hutchinson  family,  28;  (Miss  Susan) 
school,  275. 

Howe  (Judge  Samuel)  in  Worthington, 
97;  married,  98;  described,  102; 
comes  to  live  at  Northampton  1823, 
190;  death  Jan.  20,  1828;  character 
drawn  by  Rufus  Ellis,  227;  bv  his 
wife,  234;   by  Miss  Sedgwick,  238. 

Hume's  England  read,  151. 

Humphrey's  Tour  read,  336. 

Hunt  (Eben),  72,  21S;  (Maria)  death, 
25';3'4- 

Huntington.  (C.  P.),  222,  302,  358; 
house  at  lladley,  425;  (Bishop),  426; 
427;   (Wilhaui)  school,  2S1. 

Huntoon  (Mr.  1,  330. 


502 


INDEX 


Hutchinson  (Anne),  27;  (Edward)  29; 
(Edward)  30;  (Elizabeth)  27. 

Illnesses,  1822,  1846,  158,  394. 
Inches  (Mrs.),  43,  162. 
Influence  of  a  fine  child,  325. 
Inherited  virtues,  360. 
Innoctnt  occupation,  355. 
Invalid  youth  a  sorrowful  sight,  273. 
Ion,  a  tragedy,  323. 

Irving  (Rev.  Pierre),  270;  (Washing- 
ton) 61. 

Jackson  (Dr.  James),  died  1834,  284. 

Jane  Eyre  read,  1847,  39^- 

Jay's  Life  read,  402. 

Jeffrey  (Mr.),  61. 

Jennison  (Dr.),  268. 

Jesus,  his  character  discussed,  179. 

Jones  (Mary),  died  1834,  290;  (Thomas) 
marries  Mary  Lyman,  1829,  225. 

Jones,  Sir  William's  Life  read  and  dis- 
cussed, 148. 

Jouffroy's  Philosophical  Essays  read, 
37°,  378. 

Kane  (Mrs.),  of  New  York,  61. 
Kirkland  (Professor),  quoted,  125. 
Knapp  (John),  67. 

Ladies'  Academy  in  Dorchester,  34. 

Lady  Eleanor,  342. 

Lady  of  the  Lake,  a  drama  performed  in 

the  Northampton  house,  1826,  217. 
Langley  (W.  G),  342. 
Language  seemingly  pedantic  quite  nat- 
ural, 308. 
Last  days,  450. 

Law  business  at  Northampton,  87. 
Law  School  established  in  1823,  189. 
Leaders  in  society,  426. 
Lebanon  Mountains,  tour,  388. 
Lesley  children,  1851,  467. 
Let  all  children  eat  humble  pie,  433. 
Letitia,  the  marchioness,  440. 
Letters  of  Mrs.  Lyman  to  :  — 
Mr.  Allen,  December,  1847,  397. 
Mrs   Barnard,  Dec.  30,  1827,  253. 
Miss  Cochran  in  January  and  Septem- 
ber, 1835,  295,  299. 
Mrs.  Delano  on  the  education  of  chil- 
dren, 438. 
Aunt  Forbes,  1S04-1805,  57. 
Emma  Forbes,   1817,   121 ;   1818,  124, 
127,  130;    1821,  136,  142;  1822,  154, 
157;    1823,  160,  167,  193,  197;   1824, 
200,  203,  205;   1825,  208,  212;  1828, 
243,    245;     1831,    262;     1S32,    271; 
1838,  333- 
T.  M.  Forbes,  Jan.  1,  1832,  265. 
Dr    Flint,  1836,303;    1S37,  3'S;    1838, 

332- 
Mrs.  Greene  (Abby  Lyman),  1821,  135, 
139.    141;    1822,  147,   149,  151,   152, 
'5&>   '5s;   '823,   163,  164,  197;   1S24, 
202,  204;   1S26,  218,220;   1827,223, 


224;     1830,    258;    1832,    268,    271; 
1833,   274;   276;     1834,    291;    1836, 
303;    1837,    324.    33°;     1839,    342; 
1840,   344;    1842,    374;    1843,    378, 
380;     1844,   387;    1847,   397;    1848, 
405 :  1849,  409. 
Mrs.  Hentz,  Dec.  25,  1826,  220. 
Mrs.  Howe,  Aug.  31,  1849,  409. 
A.  J.  Lyman  (her  daughter),  Nov.  15, 

1829,  251. 
E.  H.  R.  Lyman  (her  son),  1833,  281; 
1834,283,286;  1835,294,297;   1836, 
309,311;   1837,322,323,328;   1838, 
334,336;    1839,337,338,341;   1840, 
343)  368,  370;    1842,377;    1843,381, 
382;  1845,392;  1846,393,394;   1847, 
400;    1848,402,404;    1852,410. 
Catherine  Robbins  (her  sister),  1832, 
272 ;    1833,   274;    1835,  296;    1840, 
366;    1841,   372;    1845,  389;    1847, 
401 ;   1848,  402. 
Eliza  Robbins  (her  sister),  1804,  57; 

1808,  59. 
Madame  Robbins  (her  mother),  Aug. 

24,  1825,  215. 
Miss  H.  Stearns,  1842,376;  1844,384. 
W.  S.  Thayer,  1848,  407. 
Letter  from  L.  M.  Child  to  Mrs.  Lesley, 

491. 
Letter  from  G.   B.  Emerson  to  Judge 

Lyman,  257. 
Letters  from  R.  W.   Emerson  to  Mrs. 
Lyman,    1828,   241;    1829,  248;    1830, 
256,  257;   1837,  318;  to  Mrs.  Lesley, 
July  26,  1874,  406. 
Letter  from  Dr.  Flint  to  Mrs.  Lesley, 

1874,  494- 
Letter  from  Mr.  Greene  to  Mrs.   Les- 
ley, 1875,  480- 
Letters  from  Mrs.  Howe  to  Eliza  Rob- 
bins, 67  ;    to  Miss   Cabot,   1813,   104, 
108;  1814,  112,113;   1816,  116;    1818, 
118;   1823,  182;  to  Miss  Forbes,  1825, 
206,  210 ;   1830,  262. 
Letters  of  Judge  Lyman  to  his  son  Ed- 
ward, 285,  312. 
Letter  of  Hannah  Stearns  to  Mrs.  Les- 
ley, 1874,  481. 
Letter  of  Professor  Thayer  to  Mrs.  Les- 
ley, 1875,  456. 
Letter  of  J.  G.  Whittier  to  Mrs.  Lyman, 

1849,  455- 
Lexington,  Sound  boat,  lost  by  fire,  1840, 

344- 
Library  at  the  old  home,  81. 
Life's  varied  stages,  143. 
Lippett  (Mr.),  390 
Literary  institutions,  168. 
Literature  in  New  England,  488. 
Little  ladies,  303. 
Loneliness  after  1849,  466. 
Loose-enders  (Transcendentalists),  449. 
Lord  Collingwood's  Letters  read,  275. 
Loss  of  good  friends,  reflections,  157. 
Louisa,  her  story,  128. 
Love  must  be  cultivated,  153. 


INDEX 


5°3 


Love  of  young  people's  society,  420. 

Lovell  (James),  67  ;  (Mrs.)  37. 

Low  people  as  intolerable  in  books  as  in 
society,  329. 

Lowell  (Edward),  224,  258  ;  (John)  139, 
141. 

Loyal  sentiments  preserved  in  New 
England,  44. 

Lyman  (Abby:  Mrs.  Greene),  120,  135. 

Lyman  (Anne  Jean  Robbins),  early 
childhood,  31. 

Lyman  (Anne  Jean,  eldest  daughter), 
born  July,  1815,  120;  1825,  218;  at 
school,  1829,  250 ;  visits  Cincinnati, 
1833,  280;  illness,  1835,  3°2  ;  death, 
Jan.  21,  1837,  311!  described  by  her 
mother,  316. 

Lyman  (Catherine  R.),  born  Jan.  12, 
1824,  205;  married  to  W.  Delano, 
October,  1843,381,383. 

Lyman  (Dwight),  died  1834,  290. 

Lyman  (E.  H.  R.,  second  son),  born 
February,  1819,  120,  216;  returns 
from  Europe,  1833  (see  Letters),  281. 

Lyman's  Italy  read,  132. 

Lyman  (James),  389. 

Lyman  (Jane),  married  S.  Brewer,  1833, 
278. 

Lyman  (Judge  Joseph),  described  by 
Rufus  Ellis,  66;  by  S.  I.  L.,  84;  at 
death-bed  of  Judge  Howe,  230;  died 
Dec.  11,  1847;  described  by  Mrs. 
Lyman,   397,   450. 

Lyman  (Joseph,  his  eldest  son),  born 
Aug.  14,  1812,  S9;  ill  in  1822,  161; 
coming  home,  1839,  342 ;  at  North- 
ampton, 397;  at  Jamaica  Plain,  1856, 
470. 

Lyman  (Martha),  473. 

Lyman  (Mary),  married  to  Mr.  Jones, 
1829,  248. 

Lyman  (Sally),  married  Mr.  Richard  L. 
Allen,  1834,  293. 

Lyman  (Susan  Inches),  born  1823,  195; 
1839,  342;  in  New  York,  1847,  395  i 
married  February,  1849,  465. 

Lyman  (Theodore),  409. 

Ma  chere  Mere,  428. 
Madame  de  Stael's  Germany  read,  378. 
Manners,  not  conventionalities,  435. 
Many    acquaintances     not     worth     one 

friend,  f62. 
Marchioness,  440. 
Marriage  with  Judge  Lyman,  70. 
Mather's  Magnalia  read,  233. 
Mclntyre's  store,  456. 
McLean  Insane  Asylum,  475. 
Mellen  (Judge),  36S. 
Meredith  (William),  191. 
Metcalf  (Mrs.  and  Judge),  110,423. 
Methodism  discussed,  145. 
Middleton  (Prudence),  37. 
Millennium  of  no  sorrow  about  clothes, 

252. 
Mills  &  Howe,  law  partners,  103. 


Mills  (Charles),  267;  (Helen)  154,  222; 

(Mrs.)  187,  263. 
Milton    Cemetery,    477;     church,    18; 

Hill,  17,  31. 
Minot  (Mr.),  204. 
Monuments,  Where  are  your?  91. 
Moore's  Life  of  Sheridan  read,  219. 
More's  (H  )  works  read,  224. 
Morison  (Rev.  J.),  468. 
Morse  (Dr.),  130. 
Mortification  stuff,  433. 
Morton  (Mrs.),  130. 
Moseley  (General),  272. 
Mother  Goose  translated  into  French, 

123. 
Mounts  Tom  and  Holyoke,  73. 
Murray  ancestry,  26;    (Betsy)   17,   36; 

(Charles)  337. 

Named  chambers  in  the  old  house,  80. 

Nature  the  best  of  friends,  271. 

Neutral  ground  for  village  warfare,  448. 

New  Haven  in  1813,  105. 

New  Salmagundi,  62. 

New  York  Review  criticised,  125. 

North  American  Review,  authors,  123, 
130,  150. 

Northampton  home  pictured,  72;  aban- 
doned in  1849,  466 ;  village  described, 
1811,  72. 

Novels  appreciated  in  after  life,  329. 

Noyes  (Rev.),  1834,  294. 

Obituary  notices  of  Mrs.  Lyman,  482. 
Old  horse  and  chaise,  414. 
Old  parlor  described,  90. 
Old  saints  in  Hadley,  491. 
Opportunities,  92. 
Otis  (H.  Gray),  364. 

Paley's  Moral  Philosophy  read,  117,  124. 

Parker  (Captain),  18;  (John)  391;  The- 
odore, 1856,471,  478. 

Patronage  read,  114. 

Paulding  (Mr.),  61. 

Peabody  (Mr.),  160. 

Peabodv  (Rev.  Mr.),  160,  168. 

Peirce  (Mr.),  268. 

Percy's  Masque  read,  144. 

Perkins  (James),  43  ;  (Sarah),  293. 

Peter's  Letters  condemned,  144. 

Pianos  scarce  in  1823,  175. 

Pickard  (Mrs.),  37. 

Pickering  (Octavius),  423. 

Pickwick  Papers  condemned,  328. 

Pierce  (Sally),  472. 

Pioneers  read  and  criticised,  161. 

Pirate  read  and  criticised,  151. 

Phelps  (Caroline),  295;  Hadley  house, 
425- 

Philothea  quoted.     See  Anecdote,  359. 

Plain  speaking  that  gave  no  offence, 
353- 

Pomeroy  family,  135 ;  (Mrs.)  death, 
1S25,  2  10 

Popular  Essays,  117. 


5°4 


INDEX 


Prior's  Life  of  Burke,  219. 
Private  education  approved,  270. 
Proof  texts  unconvincing,  182. 
Putt's-Bridge  Stage,  483. 

Quaker  persecution,  30,  95. 
Quarterly  Review  condemned,  125. 
Queen  of  the  Rose  performed,  28*1. 
Queen  Victoria's  wedding-day,  344. 
Queen's  Wake  read,  115. 

Radcliffe's  (Mrs.)  novels,  225. 

Railroad  comes  to  change  Northamp- 
ton, 383. 

Recollections  of  a  Housekeeper  read, 
296. 

Reginald  Dalton  read,  203. 

Rest!  there  is  no  such  thing  as  rest,  371. 

Revere  (Mr.),  marries  Mary  Robbins, 
134- 

Rice  (Henry),  367. 

Richard  Jones  read  and  condemned,  161. 

Rights  of  Women,  Miss  Martineau  criti- 
cised, 330. 

Ripley  (Mrs.),  249,  373. 

Rob  Roy  read  and  judged,  117,  124. 

Robbins  (Anne  Jean),  birth  and  descent, 
17;  (Anne)  1821,  142;  (Catherine) 
38-46;  (Hon.  E.  H,  father)  17; 
(Dr.  E.  H.,  son)  214,  467;  (Eliza)  26, 
308,  309,  469;  (James)  141;  (Mary) 
134;  (Rev.  Nathaniel)  17,  19,  24,  248, 
254;  (Sally)  48,  52,  98. 

Robbinston,  Me.,  20. 

Roderick  the  Goth  read,  115. 

Rcenne'  (Baron),  365. 

Rogers  (Mrs.),  303. 

Romeyn  (Dr.),  64. 

Rose-breasted  grossbeak,  416. 

Rotch  (Miss),  204. 

Round  Hill  School,  1823,  189. 

Russell  (Colonel  H.  S.),  18. 

Sacrifices  for  friendship,  405. 

Saint  Ronan's  Well  criticised,  202. 

Saratoga  in  1821,  140. 

Saunders  (Miss),  school,  34. 

School-house  (old)  on  Milton  Hill,  32. 

School-teaching  at  Round  Hill,  201. 

Sciatica,  1834  to  1839,  310- 

Scott's  Lives  of  the  Novelists,  219. 

Sears  (David),  364. 

Sedgwick  family,   1813,  106;    1822,  159; 

(Catherine)  204,  388;  (Charles),  158; 

(jane)  265  ;  (Robert)  158;  (Theodore) 

i54,  33L. 
Seeger  (Eliza),  300. 
Sewing  circle,  351. 
Shakspeare  Club,  426. 
Shaw  (Judge),  362. 
Shelling  peas  in  the  parlor,  487. 
Shepherd  (C.  and  E.),  154. 
Sheridan's  Rivals  performed,  389. 
Shop  Row,  85. 
Sickness  ignored,  82. 
Siesta  hour  in  the  old  home,  420. 


Silvio  Pellico,  296. 

Simmons  (Rev.),  401. 

Sismondi's  Travels  in  England,  116: 
Switzerland,  164. 

Smith  (Mrs.  R.),  35  i  (Uncle)  1734,  36. 

Somerville  Asylum,  475. 

Sonnet  by  Sally  Howe,  52. 

Sorrow  a  wholesome  regimen,  165. 

Sorrow  over  Anne's  death,  315,  321. 

S'outhey's  Life  of  Nelson,  113;  Life  of 
Wesley,  144. 

Spae  Wife,  203. 

Sparks  (Mr.),  162 ;  Tracts,  203 ;  Wash- 
ington, 302,  342. 

Spring  (Marshall),  214,  338;  (Elizabeth) 
293- 

Spy  read,  151. 

Staging  to  Boston  in  old  time,  92. 

Stearns  (Rev.),  272,  332 ;  (Hannah)  334. 

Stevens's  Travels  in  Egypt*  336. 

Strong  (Martha),  217. 

Study  of  theology,  373. 

Sturgis  (Russell),  168,  191. 

Summer  visitors,  86. 

Sumner  (Betsy),  123 ;  (Charles)  341. 

Sunday  church-going,  its  value,  306. 

Sunday-school  class  in  1832,  272. 

Swan  (Martha),  401. 

Tacitus  read,  in. 

Tales  of  my  Landlord,  127. 

Thanksgiving  dinner,  1840,  368. 

Thatcher  (Thomas),  18,  118. 

Thayer  (Mrs.),   454;   (James  B.)  456; 

(William  S.)  417,  456. 
Theodolf  read,  401. 
Theodore  read,  370. 
Things  held  cheaply,  446. 
Third  marriages,  349. 
Thompson  (Dr.),  390. 
Tract  distribution,  189. 
Transcendentalism,  226,  374,  484. 
Travelling,  its  uses,  167. 
Trouble  to  be  borne  as  a  minor  evil,  139. 
Tucker  (Rev.  Mark),  175. 
Tuckerman  (H),  469. 
Tudor's  Life  of  Otis,  166. 
Tyler  (Dr.),  476. 
Tyng  (George),  his  school,  148,  154,  165, 

I91-.        .         .    . 

Typhoid  epidemic  in  1825,  214. 

Undine  read  aloud,  criticised,  342. 
Unitarianism,  102,  170,  177,  237. 
Upham  (Mr.),  249. 

Valerius  verstis  Richard  Jones,  148,  161. 

Van  Raumer's  England,  323. 

Village  society,  85 ;  changes,  384. 

Vinton  (Mrs.),  448. 

Virgil  read,  116. 

Virtues  grow  by  culture,  136. 

Voice  from  St.  Helena  read,  164. 

Walker  (Eleanor),  101 ;  (Mary)  470; 
(Timothy)  191. 


INDEX 


5°5 


Wallace  (Betsey),  the  slave,  339. 

Wanderer  read,  114. 

Wandering  Jew  read,  392. 

War  in  1861,  475. 

Ware  (H.  and  W),  59;  (Mrs.  H.)37i 
(H.)  213;  (Lizzie)  206;  influence  at 
Cambridge,  264;  formation  of  Chris- 
tian Church,  275;  Julian,  378. 

Ware,  great  staging  station,  96. 

Warner's  tavern,  86,  448. 

Washburn  (Luther),  389. 

Watson  (Mrs.),  294,  368. 

Wayne  (Mary),  339. 

Ways  with  her  children,  78,  79. 

Webster  (Daniel),  304. 

Wells  (Mrs.),  61. 

What  can  I  do  ?  etc.,  288. 

What's  he  to  Hecuba?  427. 

Wheeler  (President),  lectureSj  401. 

When  things  are  in  a  transition  state, 
481. 

Whipple  (Aunt),  37,  51. 

White  (Amelia),  168. 

Whitmarsh  (Mrs.),  294,  363;  (Caroline) 
389;  (T.)389. 


Whittier  (J.  G.),  455- 
Whoso  shall  offend,  etc.,  432. 
Willard  (Mrs.  and  Dr.),  60,  186,  348. 
Williams  (Judge),  88;  (Parson)  171. 
Wilde  (Judge),  364. 
Wilder's  death,  218. 
Wilson  (Miss),  268. 
Winter  life  at  Brush  Hill,  53. 
Wirt  (William),   140,141. 
Woodstock  read,  Scott's  best,  224. 
Wordsworth's    Excursion  admired,  223. 
Worth  a  guinea  a  minute,  347. 
Worthington  described,  99. 
Wounds  that  left«no  sting,  427. 
Wrath  gone  before  action,  428. 
Wright  (Chauncey),  409,  457,  461,  462, 
474- 

Yale  College  in  178c,  172. 
Yamoyden  read,  139. 
You  can't  be  too  religious,  429. 
You  have  got  me  on  the  fence,  493. 
Young  people  wisely  treated,  424. 
Your  heart  shall  live  forever,  475. 


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