hope, will accompany me through life.
Yet I find the gaiety of the town adapted to my taste; nor does even
Mrs. Williams condemn the enjoyment of its pleasures.
I was, last evening, at a ball, and I assure you, the attention I
gained, and the gallantry displayed to attract my notice and
approbation, were very flattering to my vanity; though I could not
forbear inwardly smiling at the futile arts of the pretty fellows who
exhibited them.
Their speeches appeared to have been so long practised, that I was on
the point of advising them to exercise their genius, if they had any, in
the invention of something new. But a polite conformity to the ton
restrained my satire, Adieu.
JULIA GREENFIELD.
_To Miss_ CLEORA PARTRIDGE.
NEWBURYPORT.
I am disappointed and displeased, Cleora! I have long been anxious to
procure the Marchioness de Sevigne’s letters, having often heard them
mentioned as standards of taste and elegance in the epistolary way. This
excited my curiosity, and raised my hopes of finding a rich
entertainment of wit and sentiment. I have perused, and perused in vain;
for they answer not my ideas of either. They are replete with local
circumstances, which to indifferent readers, are neither amusing nor
interesting. True, the style is easy and sprightly; but they are chiefly
composed of family matters, such as relate to her own movements and
those of her daughter; many of which are of too trifling a nature to be
ranked in the class of elegant writing. I own myself, however, not a
competent judge of their merit as a whole, even in my own estimation;
for I have read the two first volumes only.
That letters ought to be written with the familiarity of personal
conversation, I allow; yet many such conversations, even between persons
of taste and refinement, are unworthy the public attention.
Equal was my chagrin, not long since, on reading Pope’s letters. He,
said I to myself, who bears the palm from all contemporary poets, and
who is so consummate a master of this divine art, must surely furnish a
source of superior entertainment, when he descends to friendly and
social communications.
Indeed, there are good sentiments and judicious observations,
interspersed in his letters; but the greater part of them have little
other merit than what arises from the style.
Perhaps you will charge me with arrogance for presuming to criticise,
much more to condemn, publications which have so long been sanctioned by
general approbation. Independent in opinion, I write it without reserve,
and censure not any one who thinks differently. Give me your sentiments
with the same freedom upon the books which you honor with a perusal, and
you will oblige your affectionate
CAROLINE LITTLETON.
_To Miss_ CAROLINE LITTLETON.
SALEM.
DEAR CAROLINE,
I received yours with those lively sensations of pleasure which your
favors always afford. As I was perusing it, my papa came into the room.
He took it out of my hand and read it; then returning it with the smile
of approbation, I think, said he, that your correspondent has played the
critic very well. Has she played it justly, Sir? said I. Why, it is a
long time, said he, since I read the Marchioness de Sevigne’s letters. I
am not, therefore, judge of their merit. But with regard to Pope, I
blame not the sex for retaliating upon him; for he always treated them
satirically. I believe revenge was no part of my friend’s plan, said I.
She is far superior to so malignant a passion, though, were she capable
of seeking it, it would be in behalf of her sex.
Company now coming in, the conversation shifted.
I have often smiled at the pitiful wit of those satirists and essayists,
who lavish abundant eloquence on trifling foibles, the mere whims of a
day; and of no consequence to the body natural, moral, or political. The
extension of a hoop, the contraction of the waist, or the elevation of
the head-dress, frequently afford matter for pages of elaborate
discussion. These reformers, too, always aim at the good of our sex! I
think it a great pity they do not lop off some of their own exuberant
follies; though perhaps they wish us to exchange labours; and in return
for their benevolent exertions, that we endeavor to expose and correct
their errors. I have sometimes thought their satire to be tinctured with
malice; and that the cause of their disaffection may generally be found
in personal resentment. Had Pope and his coadjutors been favourites with
the ladies, I doubt not but they would have found more excellencies in
them than they have ever yet allowed.
I have lately been reading the generous and polite Fitzorsborne’s
letters; and I need not tell you how much I was pleased and charmed with
them.
The justness of his sentiments, and the ease and elegance of his
diction, are at once interesting and improving. His letter and ode to
his wife on the anniversary of their marriage, surpass any thing of the
kind I have ever read. I verily think, that, had I the offer of a heart
capable of dictating such manly tenderness of expression, and such
pathetic energy of generous love, I should be willing to give my hand in
return, and assent to those solemn words, “love, honor, and—(I had
almost said) obey.” Adieu.
CLEORA PARTRIDGE.
_To Miss_ CLEORA PARTRIDGE.
NEWBURYPORT.
DEAR CLEORA,
I agree with you, that the habits of the weak and vain are too
insignificant to employ the pens of those, whose literary talents might
produce great and good effects in the political, moral, and religious
state of things. Were absurd fashions adopted only by those whose
frivolity renders them the dupes of folly, and whose example can have no
effect on the considerate and judicious part of the community, I should
think them below the attention of statesmen, philosophers, and divines:
but this is not the case. The votaries and the inventors of the most
fantastical fashions are found in the ranks of, what is called, refined
and polished society; from whom we might hope for examples of elegance
and propriety, both in dress and behaviour. By these, luxury and
extravagance are sanctioned. Their influence upon the poorer class is
increased; who, emulous of imitating their superiors, think _that_ the
most eligible appearance, (however beyond their income, or unsuitable to
their circumstances and condition in life) which is preferred and
countenanced by their wealthier neighbors.
Absurd and expensive fashions, then, are injurious to society at large,
and require some check; and why is not satire levelled against them,
laudable in its design, and likely to produce a good effect? Adieu.
CAROLINE LITTLETON.
_To Miss_ MATILDA FIELDING.
HARMONY-GROVE.
DEAR MATILDA,
Notwithstanding the coldness of the season, every heart seems to be
enlivened, and every mind exhilarated by the anniversary of the new
year. Why this day is so peculiarly marked out for congratulations, I
shall not now inquire; but in compliance with the prevailing custom of
expressing good wishes on the occasion, I send you mine in a scribble
Early I greet the opening year,
While friendship bids the muse appear,
To wish Matilda blest.
The muse, devoid of selfish art,
Obeys the dictates of a heart,
Which warms a friendly breast.
The rolling earth again has run
Her annual circuit round the sun,
And whirl’d the year away;
She now her wonted course renews,
Her orbit’s track again pursues;
Nor feels the least decay.
How soon the fleeting hours are gone!
The rapid wheels of time glide on,
Which bring the seasons round.
Winter disrobes the smiling plain,
But spring restores its charms again,
And decks the fertile ground.
The sweet returns of cheerful May
Come with a vivifying ray,
Inspiring new delight:
Beclad with every various charm
To please the eye, the fancy warm,
And animate the sight.
But youth no kind renewal knows;
Swiftly the blooming season goes,
And brings the frost of age!
No more the vernal sun appears,
To gild the painful round of years,
And wintry damps assuage.
With rapid haste, the moments fly,
Which you and I, my friend, enjoy;
And they return no more!
Then let us wisely now improve
The downy moments, as they rove,
Which nature can’t restore.
O source of wisdom! we implore
Thy aid to guide us safely o’er
The slippery paths of youth:
O deign to lend a steady ray
To point the sure, the certain way
To honor and to truth!
Let thy unerring influence shed
Its blessings on Matilda’s head,
While piety and peace,
Thy genuine offspring round her wait,
And guard her through this transient state,
To joys that never cease!
May constant health its charms extend,
And fortune every blessing lend,
To crown each passing day;
May pleasures in succession shine,
And every heart-felt bliss be thine,
Without the least allay.
MARIA WILLIAMS.
_To Miss_ CLEORA PARTRIDGE.
BOSTON.
DEAR CLEORA,
I have this week engaged in the celebration of the nuptials of my
friend, Amanda South. A splendid wedding, a gay company, an elegant
supper, and a magnificent ball, were the sum of our entertainment.
I imagine such exhilarating scenes designed to dispel the anxiety and
thoughtfulness, which every reflecting person must feel on this solemn
occasion. This untried state presents to the apprehensive mind such a
variety of new cares and duties, that cheerfulness, festivity and
hilarity seem necessary to banish the thought of them, so far as to
render a delicate and sensible female sufficiently composed to conduct
with propriety. But I must confess that were I called to the trial, I
should choose to retire from the observation of those indifferent and
unfeeling spectators, to whom the blushing modesty of a bride is often a
pastime.
Indeed, Cleora, when we look around the world and observe the great
number of unhappy marriages, which were contracted with the brightest
prospects, yet from some unforeseen cause, have involved the parties in
wretchedness for life, we may well indulge a diffidence of our own
abilities to discharge the duties of the station, and be solicitous that
our future companion should in all respects be qualified to assist in
bearing the burdens of the conjugal state.
Experience only can determine how far we are right in the judgment we
form of ourselves, and of the person of our choice. So many are the
deceptions which love and courtship impose upon their votaries, that I
believe it very difficult for the parties concerned to judge
impartially, or to discern faults, where they look only for virtues.
Hence they are so frequently misled in their opinions, and find, too
late, the errors into which they have been betrayed.
When do you come to Boston, Cleora? I am impatient for your society;
because your friendship is void of flattery, and your sincerity and
cheerfulness are always agreeable and advantageous. Adieu.
HARRIOT HENLY.
_To Miss_ HARRIOT HENLY.
SALEM.
Indeed, Harriot, I open your letters with as much gravity as I would a
sermon; you have such a knack of moralizing upon every event! What
mortal else would feel serious and sentimental at a wedding? Positively,
you shall not come to mine. Your presence, I fear, would put such a
restraint upon me, as to render me quite foolish and awkward in my
appearance.
However, I must acknowledge it a weighty affair; and what you say has,
perhaps, too much truth in it to be jested with. I believe, therefore,
we had better resolve not to risk the consequences of a wrong choice, or
imprudent conduct; but wisely devote ourselves to celibacy. I am sure we
should make a couple of very clever old maids. If you agree to this
proposition, we will begin in season to accustom ourselves to the
virtues and habits of a single life. By observing what is amiss in the
conduct of others in the same state, and avoiding their errors, I doubt
not but we may bring even the title into repute. In this way we shall be
useful to many of our own sex, though I am aware it would be a most
grievous dispensation to a couple of the other; but no matter for that.
The world needs some such examples as we might become; and if we can be
instrumental of retrieving _old-maidism_ from the imputation of
ill-nature, oddity, and many other mortifying charges, which are now
brought against it, I believe we shall save many a good girl from an
unequal and unhappy marriage. It might have a salutary effect on the
other sex too. Finding the ladies independent in sentiment, they would
be impelled to greater circumspection of conduct to merit their favor.
You see that my benevolence is extensive. I wish to become a general
reformer. What say you to my plan, Harriot? If you approve it, dismiss
your long train of admirers immediately, and act not the part of a
coquette, by retaining them out of pride or vanity. We must rise above
such narrow views, and let the world know that we act from principle, if
we mean to do good by our example. I shall continue to receive the
addresses of this same Junius, till I hear that you have acceded to my
proposal; and then, display my fortitude by renouncing a connexion which
must be doubtful as to the issue, and will certainly expose me to the
mortification of being looked at, when I am married. Farewell.
CLEORA PARTRIDGE.
_To Miss_ CAROLINE LITTLETON.
BOSTON.
DEAR CAROLINE,
I have just returned from a rural excursion, where, in the thicket of a
grove, I enjoyed all the luxury of solitude. The sun had nearly finished
his diurnal course, and was leaving our hemisphere to illuminate the
other with his cheering rays.
The sprightly songsters had retired to their bowers, and were distending
their little throats with a tribute of instinctive gratitude and praise.
The vocal strains re-echoed from tree to tree and invited me to join the
responsive notes. My heart expanded with devotion and benevolence. I
wished the whole human kind to share the feelings of happiness which I
enjoyed; while the inanimate creation around seemed to partake of my
satisfaction! Methought the fields assumed a livelier verdure; and the
zephyrs were unusually officious in wafting the fragrance of aromatic
gales. I surveyed the surrounding scenery with rapturous admiration; and
my heart glowed with inexpressible delight at the lovely appearance of
nature, and the diffusive bounties of its almighty author.
Let others, said I, exult in stately domes, and the superfluities of
pomp; immerse themselves in the splendid novelties of fashion, and a
promiscuous crowd of giddy amusements! I envy them not.
Give me a mind to range the sylvan scene,
And taste the blessings of the vernal day;
While social joys, and friendly, intervene
To chase the gloomy cares of life away.
I wish not to abandon society, nor to resign the pleasures which it
affords; but it is a select number of friends, not a promiscuous crowd,
which I prefer.
When the mind is much engrossed by dissipating pleasures, it is apt to
forget itself, and neglect its own dignity and improvement. It is
necessary often to retreat from the noise and bustle of the world, and
commune with our own hearts. By this mean we shall be the better
qualified both to discharge the duties and participate in the enjoyments
of life.
Solitude affords a nearer and more distinct view of the works of
creation; elevates the mind, and purifies its passions and affections.
O solitude! in thee the boundless mind
Expands itself, and revels unconfin’d;
From thee, each vain, each grov’lling passion flies,
And all the virtues of the soul arise.
Adieu,
JULIA GREENFIELD.
_To Miss_ LAURA GUILFORD.
BOSTON.
MY DEAR LAURA,
Rambling in the garden, I have picked a nosegay, which I transmit to you
as a token of my remembrance. Though the poetical bagatelle which
accompanies it, is not equal to the elegance of the subject; yet I
confide in your candor to excuse its futility, and give a favorable
interpretation to its design.
Laura, this little gift approve,
Pluck’d by the hand of cordial love!
With nicest care the wreath I’ve dress’d,
Fit to adorn your friendly breast.
The rose and lily are combin’d,
As emblems of your virtuous mind!
Pure as the first is seen in thee
Sweet blushing sensibility.
Carnations here their charms display,
And nature shines in rich array,
Od’rous, as virtue’s accents sweet,
From Laura’s lips with wit replete.
The myrtle with the laurel bound,
And purple amaranthus crown’d,
Within this little knot unite,
Like Laura’s charms, to give delight!
Fair, fragrant, soft, like beauty dress’d;
So she unrivalled stands confess’d;
While blending still each finish’d grace,
Her virtues in her mien we trace!
Virtues, which far all tints outshine,
And, verdant brave the frost of time.
I am, &c.
SOPHIA MANCHESTER.
_To Miss_ MARIA WILLIAMS.
BOSTON.
DEAR SISTER,
I am not so far engaged by the new scenes of fashionable gaiety which
surround me, as to forget you and the other dear friends, whom I left at
Harmony-Grove. Yet so great is the novelty which I find in this crowded
metropolis, that you cannot wonder if my attention is very much
engrossed. Mr. and Mrs. Henly, with their amiable daughters, are
extremely polite and attentive to me; and having taken every method to
contribute to my amusement, I went yesterday, in their company, to
Commencement, at Cambridge; and was very much entertained with the
exhibition. I pretend not to be a judge of the talents displayed by the
young gentlemen who took an active part, or of the proficiency they had
made in science. I have an opinion of my own, notwithstanding; and can
tell how far my eye and ear were gratified.
I never knew before, that dress was a classical study; which I now
conclude it must be, or it would not have exercised the genius of some
of the principal speakers on this public occasion.
The female garb too, seemed to claim particular attention. The _bon
ton_, taste and fashions of our sex, afforded a subject of declamation
to the orator; and of entertainment to the audience, composed, in part,
of our legislators, politicians, and divines! I could not but think that
those scholars who employ their time in studying, investigating and
criticising the ladies’ dresses, might as well be occupied in the
business of a friseur or the man-milliner; either of which would afford
them more frequent opportunities for the display of their abilities, and
render their labors more extensively useful to the sex. Others might
then improve the time, which they thus frivolously engrossed on this
anniversary, in contributing to the entertainment of the _literati_, who
doubtless expect to be gratified by the exertions of genius and an
apparent progress in those studies, which are designed to qualify the
rising youth of America for important stations both in church and state.
The assembly was extremely brilliant; the ladies seemed to vie with each
other in magnificent decorations. So much loveliness was visible in
their native charms, that without any hint from the speakers of the day,
I should have thought it a pity to add those foreign ornaments, which
rather obscure than aid them.
I was a little displeased by the unbecoming levity of some of my sex;
and am apprehensive lest it might induce misjudging and censorious
people to imagine that they were led thither more by the vanity of
attracting notice, than to receive any mental entertainment.
Without our consent, we ran a race back to town, which endangered our
necks. The avaricious hackman, desirous of returning for another
freight, had no mercy on his passengers or horses. However, we arrived
safely, though much fatigued by the pleasure of the day.
Pleasure carried to excess degenerates into pain. This I actually
experienced; and sighed for the tranquil enjoyments of Harmony grove, to
which I propose soon to return, and convince you how affectionately I am
your’s,
ANNA WILLIAMS.
_To Miss_ ANNA WILLIAMS.
HARMONY-GROVE.
DEAR ANNA,
Your enlivening letter restored us, in some measure, to your society; or
at least, alleviated the pain of your absence.
I am glad you attended commencement. It was a new scene, and
consequently extended your ideas. I think you rather severe on the
classical gentlemen. We simple country folks must not presume to arraign
their taste, whose learning and abilities render them conspicuous on the
literary stage. They, doubtless, write on subjects better adapted to
their capacities. As for the follies of fashion, I think the gentlemen
are under obligations to the ladies for adopting them; since it gives
exercise to their genius and pens.
You were tired, you say, with pleasure. I believe those dissipating
scenes, which greatly exhilarate the spirits, call for the whole
attention, and oblige us to exert every power, are always fatiguing.
Pleasures of a calmer kind, which are moderately enjoyed, which enliven
rather then exhaust, and which yield a serenity of mind on reflection,
are the most durable, rational and satisfying. Pleasure is the most
alluring object which is presented to the view of the young and
inexperienced. Under various forms it courts our attention; but while we
are still eager in the pursuit, it eludes our grasp. Its fascinating
charms deceive the imagination, and create a bower of bliss in every
distant object.
But let us be careful not to fix our affections on any thing, which
bears this name, unless it be founded on virtue, and will endure the
severest scrutiny of examination.
Our honored mamma, and all your friends here, are impatient for your
return. They unitedly long to embrace, and bid you welcome to these
seats of simplicity and ease: but none more ardently than your
affectionate sister,
MARY WILLIAMS.
_To Miss_ MATILDA FIELDING.
BOSTON.
DEAR MATILDA,
Anxious to make the best possible use of the education I have received;
and fully impressed with the idea, that the human mind is capable of
continual improvements, it is my constant endeavor to extract honey from
every flower which falls in my way, or, to speak without a figure, to
derive advantage from every incident. Pursuant to the advice of our
excellent Preceptress, I keep this perpetually in view; and am therefore
disappointed when defeated in the attempt.
This afternoon I have been in company with three ladies, celebrated for
their beauty and wit. One of them I think may justly claim the
reputation of beauty. To a finished form, and florid complexion, an
engaging, animating countenance is added. Yet a consciousness of
superior charms was apparent in her deportment; and a supercilious air
counteracted the effects of her personal accomplishments. The two others
were evidently more indebted to art than to nature for their appearance.
It might easily be discovered that paint constituted all the delicacy of
their complexion.
What a pity that so many are deceived in their ideas of beauty! Certain
it is, that artificial additions serve rather to impair than increase
its power. “Who can paint like nature?” What hand is skilful enough to
supply her defects? Do not those who attempt it always fail, and render
themselves disgusting? Do they not really injure what they strive to
mend; and make it more indifferent than usual, when divested of its
temporary embellishments? Beauty cannot possibly maintain its sway over
its most obsequious votaries, unless the manners and the mind unitedly
contribute to secure it. How vain then is this subterfuge! It may
deceive the eye and gain the flattery of the prattling coxcomb; but
accumulated neglect and mortification inevitably await those who trust
in the wretched alternative.
From their good sense, I had been led to expect the greatest
entertainment. I therefore waited impatiently till the first compliments
were over, and conversation commenced.
But to my extreme regret, I found it to consist of ludicrous
insinuations, hackneyed jests and satirical remarks upon others of their
acquaintance who were absent. The pretty fellows of the town were
criticised; and their own adventures in shopping, were related with so
much minuteness, hilarity, and glee, that I blushed for the frivolous
levity of those of my sex, who could substitute buffoonery for wit, and
the effusions of a perverted imagination, for that refined and improving
conversation, which a well cultivated mind and a correct taste are
calculated to afford.