which contains the story of Clarinda, to her pupils, and to make such
comments upon it as the subject suggested; during which we could not but
observe the extreme emotion of one of the misses, a most amiable girl of
about sixteen. When the paragraph respecting Clarinda’s disowning her
child was read, she hastily rose and in broken accents begged leave to
withdraw. This was granted without any inquiry into the cause; though
our curiosity, as you may well suppose, was much excited. After we were
dismissed, my mamma prevailed on her to tell the reason of her
agitation.
“I am,” said she, “the illegitimate offspring of parents, whom I am told
are people of fortune and fashion. The fear of disgrace overcame the
dictates of natural affection, and induced my mother to abandon me in my
infancy. She accordingly gave me away, with a large sum of money, which
she vainly imagined would procure me kind and good treatment. But
unhappily for me the people to whom I was consigned, availed themselves
of their security from inspection and inquiry, abused the trust reposed
in them, and exposed me to the greatest hardships. As they were persons
of vulgar minds and unfeeling hearts, they did not commiserate my
friendless condition. My quick sensibility incurred their displeasure or
derision. I was often insultingly reproached with the misfortune of my
birth; while the tears which these ungenerous reflections extorted from
me, were either mocked or punished. I had a thirst for knowledge; but
they allowed me no time for acquiring it, alleging they could not
support me in idleness, but that I must earn my living as they did
theirs, by hard labor. Oppressed by these insults, I bore the galling
yoke of their authority with the utmost impatience. When screened from
observation, my tears flowed without restraint; and the idea of my
parents’ cruelty, in thus subjecting me to infamy and wretchedness,
continually haunted my imagination. Sometimes I fancied my mother in
view, and exposing my tattered raiment, expostulated with her concerning
the indignities I suffered, and the unreasonable hardship of leaving me
to bear all the punishment of my guilty birth! At other times I painted
to myself a father, in some gentleman of pleasing aspect; and fondly
indulged the momentary transport of throwing myself at the feet of one,
whom I could call by that venerable and endearing name! Too soon,
however, did the reverse of parental tenderness awake me from my
delusive reveries.
“In this manner I lingered away my existence, till I was twelve years
old; when going one day to the house of a gentleman in the neighborhood,
to which I was often sent to sell herbs, and other trifles, I was
directed into the parlor, where the most beautiful sight in nature
opened to my view; while the contrast between my own situation, and that
of children blessed with affectionate parents, gave me the most painful
sensations. The lady of the house was surrounded by her four sons, the
eldest of whom was reading lessons, which she most pathetically
inculcated upon all. As the door was open, I stood some minutes
unobserved; and was so delighted with the tender accents in which her
instructions were imparted, and the cheerful obedience with which they
were received, that I had no disposition to interrupt them.
“At length I was seen, and bid to come in. But when questioned about my
errand I was so absorbed in the contemplation of maternal and filial
love, exhibited in this happy group, that my tongue refused utterance,
and I burst into tears. The children gathered around and inquired what
ailed the poor little girl? But when the lady took me by the hand, and
kindly asked what was the matter, I could not restrain or conceal my
feelings. When my tears had relieved me, I related the cause of my
grief; describing my own situation, and the effect which its contrast
had produced on my mind.
“She was affected by my story, and seemed pleased with my sensibility;
while the children lamented my misfortunes, and artlessly requested
their mamma to let me come and live with them.
“Little did I then expect so great a favor; but to my surprise as well
as joy, Mrs. ——, the lady of whom I have been speaking, and by whom I am
put under your care, came a few days after, and asked the people where I
lived, if they were willing to part with me. By their consent she took
me home, and has ever since treated me like a child.
“I am now happy beyond expression. My gratitude to my benefactress, who,
guided by a wise and good Providence, has snatched me from obscurity and
misery, and given me so many advantages for improvement, is unbounded.
“But the idea that any helpless innocent should be unnaturally exposed
to the sufferings which I have experienced, is insupportably distressing
to my imagination.
“Let my story, if possible, be told to Clarinda, that she may be induced
to have compassion upon her defenceless offspring.”
You are at liberty, therefore, my dear Julia, to make what use you
please of this letter. I shall make no comments upon the subject of it,
nor add any thing more to its length, but that I am affectionately
yours.
MARIA WILLIAMS.
_To Miss_ ANNA WILLIAMS.
SALEM.
DEAR ANNA,
My contemplated visit to Harmony-Grove must be deferred. A severe
illness has lately confined my mamma to her chamber. This claimed all my
time and attention, and called me to a new scene of care; that of a
family which I was obliged to superintend during her indisposition. Her
recovery has, at length, restored tranquillity and joy to our abode; but
she has not yet resumed the direction of her household affairs. To this,
she tells me she is reconciled by the hope that experience may render me
an adept in domestic economy. Indeed, Anna, I think this an essential
branch of female education; and I question whether it can be acquired by
mere speculation. To me it is plain that every lady ought to have some
practice in the management of a family, before she takes upon herself
the important trust.
Do not many of the mistakes and infelicities of life arise from a
deficiency in this point?
Young ladies of fashion are not obliged to the task, and have too seldom
any inclination to perform duties which require so much time and
attention; and with which, perhaps, they have injudiciously been taught
to connect the idea of servility. Hence it is, that when called to
preside over families, they commit many errors, during their novitiate,
at least, which are alike detrimental to their interest and happiness.
How necessary is it, then, to avoid this complication of evils by a
seasonable application to those offices of housewifery, which may one
day become our province.
Early rising, I find a great assistance in my present occupation. It is
almost incredible how much may be gained by a diligent improvement of
those hours which are but too commonly lost in sleep. I arose this
morning with the dawn. The serenity of the sky and the fragrance of the
air invited me abroad. The calmness which universally prevailed served
to tranquillize my mind, while the receding shades of night, and the
rising beams of day, formed a contrasted assemblage of the beautiful,
the splendid, the solemn, and the sublime. The silence which pervaded
the surrounding scenery was interrupted only by the melody of the
feathered songsters, who seemed to rejoice in this undisturbed
opportunity of praising their maker. My heart expanded with gratitude
and love to the all-bountiful Author of nature; and so absorbed was I in
the most delightful meditations, that I saw with regret the hour
approaching which must again call me to the active duties of domestic
and social life. These however, are objects of real moment, and cannot
innocently be disregarded. They give a relish to amusement, and even to
devotion, which neither the dissipated nor the recluse can know. Adieu.
CLEORA PARTRIDGE.
_To Miss_ HARRIOT HENLY.
BEVERLY.
DEAR HARRIOT,
I sincerely thank you for your affectionate letter, by the last post,
and for the book with which it was accompanied. The very title is
sufficient to rouse the feelings and attract the attention of the
patriotic mind. Beacon-Hill claims a conspicuous place in the history of
our country. The subject of this poem must be highly interesting to
every true American; while the genius it displays cannot fail to gratify
every poetical taste. Philenia’s talents justly entitle her to a rank
among the literary ornaments of Columbia.
I have been reviewing Millot’s Elements of Ancient and Modern History;
and recommend it to your re-perusal. It is undoubtedly the most useful
compendium extant. The tedious minuteness and prolix details of sieges
and battles, negotiations and treaties, which fatigue the reader and
oppress the memory in most works of the kind, are happily avoided in
this; while the elegance, simplicity, conciseness and perspicuity of the
style, render it intelligible to every capacity, and pleasing to every
taste. To those who have a relish for history, but want leisure to give
full scope, Millot is well calculated to afford both information and
entertainment. It is an objection, commonly made by our sex to studies
of this nature, that they are dry and elaborate; that they yield little
or no exercise to the more sprightly faculties of the mind; that the
attention is confined to an uninteresting and barren detail of facts,
while the imagination pants in vain for the flowery wreaths of
decoration.
This is a plausible excuse for those who read only for amusement, and
are willing to sacrifice reason, and the enlargement of their minds, to
the gaudy phantom of a day; but it can never be satisfactory to the
person, who wishes to combine utility with pleasure, and dignity with
relaxation.
History improves the understanding, and furnishes a knowledge of human
nature and human events, which may be useful as well as ornamental
through life. “History,” says the late celebrated Gauganelli, “brings
together all ages and all mankind in one point of view. Presenting a
charming landscape to the mental eye, it gives colour to the thoughts,
soul to the actions, and life to the dead; and brings them upon the
stage of the world, as if they were again living; but with this
difference, that it is not to flatter, but to judge them.”
The duties and avocations of our sex will not often admit of a close and
connected course of reading. Yet a general knowledge of the necessary
subjects may undoubtedly be gained even in our leisure hours; provided
we bestow them not on works of mere taste and fancy, but on the perusal
of books calculated to enrich the understanding with durable
acquisitions.
The sincerest wishes for your health and happiness glow in the breast of
your affectionate
MATILDA FIELDING.
_To Miss_ MARIA WILLIAMS.
BOSTON.
MY DEAR MARIA,
Since I wrote you last, I have made an agreeable visit to my good friend
Sylvia Star. After rambling in the fields and gardens till we were
fatigued, we went into her brother’s library. He was in a studious
attitude, but gave us a polite reception. We are come, Amintor, said I.
Be so kind as to furnish us with some instructive page, which combines
entertainment and utility; and while it informs the mind, delights the
imagination. I am not happy enough to know your taste respecting books,
said he; and therefore, may not make a proper selection. Here, however,
is an author highly spoken of by a lady who has lately added to the
number of literary publications; handing me Sterne’s Sentimental
Journey. I closed and returned the book. You have, indeed, mistaken my
taste, said I. Wit, blended with indelicacy, never meets my approbation.
While the fancy is allured, and the passions awakened, by this pathetic
humourist, the foundations of virtue are insidiously undermined, and
modest dignity insensibly betrayed. Well, said he, smilingly, perhaps
you are seriously inclined. If so, this volume of sermons may possibly
please you. Still less, rejoined I. The serious mind must turn with
disgust from the levity which pervades these discourses, and from the
indecent flow of mirth and humour, which converts even the sacred
writings, and the most solemn subjects of religion, into frolic and
buffoonery. Since such is your opinion of this celebrated writer, said
he, I will not insult your feelings by offering you his Tristram Shandy.
But here is another wit, famous for his “purity.” Yes, said I, if
obscene and vulgar ideas, if ill-natured remarks and filthy allusions by
purity, Swift undoubtedly bears the palm from all his contemporaries. As
far as grammatical correctness and simplicity of language can deserve
the epithet, his advocates may enjoy their sentiments unmolested; but in
any other sense of the word, he has certainly no claim to “purity.” I
conceive his works, notwithstanding, to be much less pernicious in their
tendency, than those of Sterne. They are not so enchanting in their
nature, nor so subtle in their effects. In the one, the noxious
insinuations of licentious wit are concealed under the artful
blandishments of sympathetic sensibility; while we at once recoil from
the rude assault which is made upon our delicacy, by the roughness and
vulgarity of the other.
Choose then, said Amintor, for yourself. I availed myself of his offer,
and soon fixed my eyes upon Dr. Belknap’s History of New Hampshire, and
American Biography; both of which I have since read with the greatest
satisfaction.
By this judicious and impartial historian, we are led from its first
settlement to trace the progress of the infant colony. We accompany its
inhabitants in their enterprizes, their dangers, their toils, and their
successes. We take an interest in their prosperity; and we tremble at
the dreadful outrages of the barbarous foe. Our imagination is again
recalled to the gradual advance of population and agriculture. We behold
the wilderness blooming as the rose, and the haunts of savage beasts,
and more savage men, converted into fruitful fields and pleasant
habitations. The arts and sciences flourish; peace and harmony are
restored; and we are astonished at the amazing contrast, produced in
little more than a century.
When we return to the American Biography, gratitude glows in our bosoms
towards those intrepid and active adventurers, who traversed a trackless
ocean, explored an unknown region, and laid the foundation of empire and
independence in this western hemisphere. The undaunted resolution, and
cool, determined wisdom of Columbus, fill us with profound admiration.
We are constrained to pay a tribute of just applause to the generosity
of a female mind exemplified in Isabella, who, to surmount every
obstacle, nobly consented to sacrifice even her personal ornaments to
the success of this glorious expedition.
The daring spirit of Captain Smith, and the prudence, policy and
magnanimity of his conduct to the treacherous natives, and to his
equally treacherous and ungrateful countrymen, exhibit an example of
patriotism and moderation, which at once commands our applause, and
interests our feelings. While we tremble and recoil at his dreadful
situation, when bending his neck to receive the murderous stroke of
death, the native virtues of our sex suddenly reanimate our frame; and
with sensations of rapture, we behold compassion, benevolence, and
humanity, triumphant even in a savage breast; and conspicuously
displayed in the conduct of the amiable though uncivilized Pocahontas!
Nor are the other characters in this work uninteresting; and I am happy
to find that the same masterly pen is still industriously employed for
the public good;[6] and that a second volume of American Biography is
now in press.
Footnote 6:
How vain are our expectations! While the types were setting for this
very page, Dr. Belknap suddenly expired in a fit.—_Printer._
In reviewing this letter, I am astonished at my own presumption, in
undertaking to play the critic. My imagination has outstripped my
judgment; but I will arrest its career, and subscribe myself most
affectionately yours.
SOPHIA MANCHESTER.
_To Miss_ ANNA WILLIAMS.
BOSTON.
DEAR ANNA,
I retired, after breakfast this morning, determined to indulge myself in
my favorite amusement, and write you a long letter. I had just mended my
pen and folded my paper, when I was informed that three ladies waited
for me in the parlor. I stepped down and found Lucinda P——, Flavia F——,
and Delia S——. They were gaily dressed, and still more gaily disposed.
“We called,” said they, “to invite you, Miss Maria, to join our party
for a shopping tour.” Loath to have the ideas dissipated, which I had
collected in my pericranium, for the purpose of transmitting to a
beloved sister, I declined accepting their invitation; alleging that I
had no occasion to purchase any thing to day; and therefore begged to be
excused from accompanying them. They laughed at my reason for not
engaging in the expedition. “Buying,” said their principal speaker, “is
no considerable part of our plan, I assure you. Amusement is what we are
after. We frankly acknowledge it a delightful gratification of our
vanity, to traverse Cornhill, to receive the obsequious congees, and to
call forth the gallantry and activity of the beaux, behind the counter;
who, you must know, are extremely alert when we belles appear. The
waving of our feathers, and the attractive airs we assume, command the
profoundest attention, both of master and apprentices; who, duped by our
appearance, suffer less brilliant customers to wait, or even to depart
without notice, till we have tumbled over and refused half the goods in
the shop. We then bid a very civil adieu; express our regret at having
given so much trouble; are assured in return that it has been rather a
pleasure; and leave them their trouble for their pains.”
A most insignificant amusement this, said I to myself! How little can it
redound to the honor and happiness of these unthinking girls, thus to
squander their time in folly’s giddy maze! They undoubtedly wish to
attract eclat; but they would do well to remember those words of the
satirist, which, with the alteration of a single term, may be applied to
them.
“Columbia’s daughters, much more fair than nice,
Too fond of admiration, lose their price!
Worn in the public eye, give cheap delight
To throngs, and tarnish to the sated sight.”
Viewing their conduct in this light, I withstood their solicitations,
though I palliated my refusal in such a manner as to give no umbrage.
Of all expedients to kill time, this appears to me, as I know it will to
you, the most ridiculous and absurd.
What possible satisfaction can result from such a practice? It certainly
fatigues the body; and is it any advantage to the mind? Does it enlarge
the understanding, inspire useful ideas, or furnish a source of pleasing
reflection? True, it may gratify a vitiated imagination, and exhilarate
a light and trifling mind. But these ought to be restrained and
regulated by reason and judgment, rather than indulged.
I wish those ladies, who make pleasure the supreme object of their
pursuit, and argue in vindication of their conduct, that
“Pleasure is good, and they for pleasure made,”
would confine themselves to that species which
“Neither blushes nor expires.”
The domestic virtues, if duly cultivated, might certainly occupy those
hours, which they are now solicitous to dissipate, both with profit and
delight. “But it is time enough to be domesticated,” say they, “when we
are placed at the head of families, and necessarily confined to care and
labor.”
Should not the mind, however, be seasonably inured to the sphere of life
which Providence assigns us?
“To guide the pencil, turn th’ instructive page;
To lend new flavor to the fruitful year,
And heighten nature’s dainties; in their race
To rear their graces into second life;
To give society its highest taste;
Well-ordered home man’s beet delight to make;
And, by submissive wisdom, modest skill,
With every gentle care eluding art,
To raise the virtues, animate the bliss,
And sweeten all the toils of human life;
This be the female dignity and praise.”
A proper attention to these necessary duties and embellishments, would
not only correct this rambling disposition, but happily leave neither
leisure nor temptation for its indulgence.
I intended to have given you some account of my agreeable visit here;
but the chit-chat of the ladies I have mentioned, has occupied a large
portion of my time this morning, and an engagement to dine abroad claims
the rest.
I hope soon to embrace you in our beloved retirement, and again to enjoy
the sweets of my native home.
“Had I the choice of sublunary good,
What could I wish that I possess not there?
Health, leisure, means t’ improve it, friendship, peace.”
My most dutiful affections await mamma; and my kind regards attend the
young ladies residing with her. How great a share of my ardent love is
at your command, need not be renewedly testified.
MARIA WILLIAMS.
_To Miss_ SOPHIA MANCHESTER.
NEWBURYPORT.
The extracts which you transmitted to me in your last letter, my dear
Sophia, from your favorite author, Dr. Young, corresponded exactly with
the solemnity infused into my mind by the funeral of a neighbor, from
which I had just returned.
I agree with you that the Night-Thoughts are good devotional exercises.
It is impossible to read them with that degree of attention which they
merit, without being affected by the important and awful subjects on
which they treat. But Young, after all, is always too abstruse, and in
many instances too gloomy for me. The most elaborate application is
necessary to the comprehension of his meaning and design; which when
discovered often tend rather to depress than to elevate the spirits.
Thompson is much better adapted to my taste. Sentiment, elegance,
perspicuity and sublimity are all combined in his Seasons. What an
inimitable painter! How admirably he describes the infinitely variegated
beauties and operations of nature! To the feeling and susceptible heart
they are presented in the strongest light. Nor is the energy of his
language less perceivable, when he describes the Deity riding on the
wings of the wind, and directing the stormy tempest.
“How chang’d the scene! In blazing height of noon,
The sun oppress’d, is plunged in thickest gloom,
Still horror reigns, a dismal twilight round,
Of struggling night and day malignant mix’d,
Far to the hot equator crowding fast,
Where highly rarefy’d, the yielding air,
Admits their stream, incessant vapours roll,
Amazing clouds on clouds continual heap’d;
Or whirl’d tempestuous by the gusty wind,
Or silent, borne along, heavy and slow,
With the big stores of streaming oceans charg’d:
Meantime, amid these upper sea’s condens’d
Around the cold aerial mountain’s brow,
And by conflicting winds together dash’d,
The thunder holds his black tremendous throne,
From cloud to cloud the rending lightnings rage;
Till in the furious elemental war
Dissolve the whole precipitated mass,
Unbroken floods and torrents pours.”
Conscious of our own weakness and dependence, we can hardly fail to
adore and to fear that Divine Power, whose agency this imagery exhibits
to our minds. Nor are the devout affections of our hearts less excited,
when we behold the same glorious Being arrayed in love, and
accommodating the regular succession of summer and winter, seed time and
harvest to our convenience and comfort. When nature, obedient to his
command, revives the vegetable world, and diffuses alacrity and joy
throughout the animal, and even rational creation, we involuntarily
exclaim with the