My Dear Grandchildren:
Man is naturally aspiring, and the more he attains to in life,
the more earnestly he reaches after something higher still. And it is
well that it is so, for, without this spirit, there would necessarily
be but little or no advance in the world. The old land-marks would
stand unmolested, forever; and the human family, instead of developing,
could not but deteriorate, from generation to generation. But for the
fall of man, his highest aim would have been such as the angels have,
viz: to see, and to be with God, whose exceeding greatness and glory
would tend to ravish the soul with delight, enlarge its capacity, and
yet keep it at an humble distance, reverent and lowly. But I am
stepping beyond my reach, and will come back again to what is, not what
might have been.
As soon as you observe at all, you must perceive what a constant
struggle there is going on here below. Some aim at fortunes gaudy
show, while others strive to catch the wreath of fame, and crown
themselves with that. Few are so indifferent, unless besotted by
ignorance and degradation, as not to aspire, in some shape or other, to
something more or better than they ever had, or better than others
have; and, in this age of the world-at any rate in this country-money
seems to be esteemed the chief good. Not the misers money, for,
while that is locked up, and he hoards, and hoards, and still locks it
up, it narrows down the soul, and expunges from it all the milk of
human kindness. What are the orphans tears, or the widows groans-what
is human suffering to him? Gold! gold! His precious gold fills
the contracted, dark place, which the soul, made in the image of its
Creator, has forsaken, and leaves him more brute than man.
Money is a good and valuable possession, but not to the
spendthrift, to whom it becomes a temptation to vice. Better be poor
forever, and, by the sweat of the brow, eat your daily bread,
maintaining, at the same time, a pure and unblemished character, than
to have a fortune that only induces idleness and self-indulgence,
opening to you an avenue for the destruction of soul and body; and,
perhaps, too, as is often the case, cause you to blindly drag your wife
and children with you, if not to vice, at least to want and to
disgrace. Money is only good when properly valued, and properly used.
It is desirable as a means of education, and of refinement; for the
cultivation of ones taste in the field of nature, or in the arts and
sciences. It is gratifying, and not wrong, to have handsome houses and
grounds, tasteful furniture, fine paintings, or statuary, libraries,
and everything pertaining to an elegant establishment. It is very good
when used to make people happy who, in the providence of God, are not
supplied with the necessaries of life. The poor ye have always with
you-why if not to keep the stream of benevolence running fresh and
sweet? And money helps materially, perhaps too much, toward giving one
position in society. All things considered, it is hard to lose it. It
is trying to feel, as you pass along, people are saying, There goes
poor Mrs. A., or B. She has come down in the world! Some malicious
ones will say, Well, she deserved it, for she was very extravagant,
and she held her head too high. Women, no doubt, are more susceptible
to suffering and mortification, from reverses in fortune than men are;
yet there are many ways in which they feel it, too-according to their
characters and dispositions. And, my dear children, if I were to say
that we had not felt or cared for the reverses in life of which I told
you in my last letter, it would not be true. We did feel it, and that
in many ways. My husband was humbled, and disappointed, but entirely
submissive to the will of God; for he believed that adversity, as well
as prosperity, came from His loving hand, and was designed for the
highest good of His people. Instead of having the effect to lessen, it
strengthened his faith. Instead of making him more anxious and
striving for the accumulation of wealth, he was less so; and he
continued to be less so throughout the remainder of his life.
Notwithstanding he was quite as industrious, just as energetic; yet
there was less of dross mixed up with the pure metal in his soul. To
me, it was evident that he advanced rapidly in the divine life; of
which I felt the influence, if I caught none of its spirit.
In a letter from him, dated that fall, soon after our removal to
his mothers, he says: The scenery of the Mississippi, from the rapids
north, is very beautiful. The frost having changed the color of part
of the leaves, the forest presents an endless variety of colors; and
the great number of farms and villages add much to the beauty of the
landscape. But everywhere I find the people complaining, and many
suffering from actual want. Although Providence has provided a most
bountiful harvest, many, who have been accustomed to have every
comfort, and many luxuries, around them, are now almost destitute. It
makes me feel more resigned to our losses and poverty, seeing we are so
much better off than thousands who are more deserving than we. They,
it seems, are resigned, and submit most cheerfully to all the
dispensations of their Heavenly Father. Let us, dear Charlotte,
hereafter endeavor to show, in our lives, greater devotedness to Him
who has done so much for us, and who promises to be our support and
stay in every hour of need; who will never desert any who put their
trust in Him.
Let us, therefore, exhort one another, and provoke each other to
well-doing, in the service of our God. Let us love each other more and
more, and make Jesus the great object of our praise and prayer. I hope
and pray that the chastenings of our blessed Lord, in depriving us of
our worldly possessions, may be sanctified to us, and lead us, more
earnestly and undoubtingly, to seek for possessions in that Kingdom
where all is joy, and peace, and love. Oh! That we may be enabled,
with all our dear kith and kin, and kind friends, to attain unto this
glorious and happy state, to dwell forever in the presence of our God,
and enjoy Him throughout eternity. Dear C., are not these things worth
our most strenuous efforts? And yet how little do we do! How poor our
best attempts to serve Him who has done everything for us.
With these earnest desires for closer communion with God, and for
those treasures which fade not away, he necessarily had a hard struggle
to prosecute his worldly affairs, under circumstances so
disadvantageous as that of carrying on a large business without the
necessary capital, greatly weakened, in fact, by pecuniary losses, and
more still by the misfortune of being compelled to suspend payment,
and the consequent exposure of the internal difficulties with which
the firm had to contend. Anxious and toiling, week after week, he
was always rejoiced when Saturday night came, that he might, as he
generally expressed it in his prayer that night, lay aside the world,
and engage in the delightful exercises of the holy Sabbath. And I
will here mention, for the benefit of those among you (if there are any
such) who, in your eager pursuit of wealth, or honor, or are battling,
as he was, with the untoward events of life, are tempted to desecrate
the Sabbath to secular purposes, that I have often heard your
grandfather say (about that time) that on Monday his mind was clearer,
and his hopes stronger of success, than at any other time. And towards
the close of the week, after his mental energies had been on the
stretch for days, things looked darker; that sometimes he felt as
though he must give up; that it would be impossible to meet his
payments; but that on Monday, with both mind and body invigorated from
the holy rest of the Sabbath day, the mists had cleared away, and
everything looked bright again-so bright that he often felt surprised
that he should have been in such a desponding condition on Saturday.
There is sound philosophy in this; but I will leave it for you to
work out the problem, and will proceed to say, that with the opening of
the spring of 1843, business prospects really did brighten. And our
new home, though humble, we had found vastly comfortable. It looked
familiar and home-like, too; for the furniture to which we had been
accustomed had been removed into our suite of rooms, one of the
bedsteads minus only the cornice and the feet, which had to be taken
off to accommodate it to the height of the ceiling-of which, for
awhile, I had so constant and disagreeable an impression that often,
when rising suddenly from my chair, I would dodge, from fear of bumping
my head against it. And no wonder! For this was an old house, built in
the year one, before people (poor things!) found out the necessity of
having their ceilings pitched so high above them! But our front room
was otherwise capacious; for several partitions had been knocked down,
which added a small room and part of a hall to the main one, and
extended it entirely across the front of the house. It was so large
that it accommodated the piano, and a pier-stand, besides every
necessary article for a completely furnished bed-room. The piano and
pier-stand-the latter of which was a particular object of attraction
to your mamma (for bon-bons were kept in that)-gave to the room the
air somewhat of a parlor. At least, we esteemed it so cosy, and
appropriate for the purpose, that we more frequently received the calls
of friends there than in our mothers little reception-room.
What right had we to murmur? It would have been ungrateful if we
had done so; for, although not by any means elegant, we were
comfortable. True, my nice carriage and beautiful horses had been
sold; but mother had quite a nice little carriage, and a fine old gray
horse, that would have appeared very respectable, if (as the stable boy
said) the calves had not chawed of his tail! However, that was a
source of amusement. We rode often, for both mother and I needed the
exercise; and the rides were delightful, as Joseph was generally our
driver; and a merry chase he would lead us sometimes, for when he no
longer had the farm to go to, (that had likewise been sold), he
seemed determined to find out the merits, or demerits, of every road in
the vicinity. This made quite a variety for us, for, besides the
change of scenery, it usually called forth ejaculations from his
mother, and answers from him, which were very amusing. She saw no
sense in rambling the country over, going into every nook and corner,
and jolting people to death! But he would earnestly assure her that
he had not gone into half yet-looking round at her with a provokingly
mischievous expression, which seemed to intimate that he meant to try
it, though-and as for the roads, he could find much worse roads than
that! And as to driving-he hadnt begun to show how many stumps he
could go over, without upsetting. This playful, jocose, merry mood of
her son, frequently recalled to the old ladys mind some incidents of
early times, when she was young, and Joseph was a boy, which she would
relate, and laugh all over at, shaking her fat sides most merrily.
And, notwithstanding her outbursts of hastily spoken words of
disapprobation to him for his temerity, she always wondered, after
being safely landed at home, why she enjoyed her rides so much more
when Joseph drove!
When we think about it, there are really no enjoyments in this
wide world equal to home enjoyments. And when we have to go away from
that hallowed spot, to seek for some longing of the soul which we
cannot find there, or return to it with distaste, after having dipped
into the pleasures (even the refined and reasonable ones) of the world,
we are to be pitied, greatly pitied; for we are strangers to the purest
and sweetest joys that are known this side of Paradise. And, thank
God! this happiness is not confined to the mansion of the rich and the
great. Perhaps it is less felt there than in the cottage of the
virtuous and intelligent poor.
At our mothers we had quite as much of domestic peace and
happiness as we had ever known. Our little daughter, who, to us at
least, looked just as sweet and pretty in her bit calicos as she had
ever done in better and more expensive clothes, beguiled a portion of
our evenings with her music. She played delightfully on the piano, for
a child of her age; and then she had conceived an idea (perhaps from
something her father or mother had said) that the day might come when,
by teaching music and French, she would be their support in old age.
This was a new and beautiful stimulant to study, and we were no less
pleased with this virtuous devotion of her young life, because we
confidently believed that no such necessity would ever arise.
We enjoyed society, too-not quite so much or half as often as
when we could return civilities; but there was an abandonment of
feeling, or freedom from care, when we did participate; something like
that expressed by a clerical friend of ours, who, upon beholding the
beautiful grounds of a wealthy gentleman, congratulated himself upon
his capacity for enjoying them as much as the proprietor could,
without having his responsibility and care, which, in some measure,
compensated us.
And, then, your grandfather found out what a jewel of a wife he
had; how, as with a magic touch, she could make old things perfectly
new, in which she appeared more charming to his eye than ever before.
We are really not dependent upon external circumstances for happiness.
That ingredient of life is found within us; and every one has a share
in promoting it. One gentle, patient, unselfish, cheerful member of a
household, can do wonders towards making the whole atmosphere of home
redolent with his soul-reviving influences.
From what you have seen of your grandfather, you will readily
imagine that he must have been a good son. He was: one of the best, if
not the best, I have ever known. But facts speak for themselves. I
have never once heard him speak a hasty or unkind word to his mother.
He was her staff, upon whom she lovingly leaned; and yet, at her
bidding, he was her boy, obedient, and respectful. As she declined in
life, when they shall be afraid of that which is high, and fears shall
be in the way, and many infirmities made her irritable and exacting,
the charm of his loving voice, playfully and skillfully giving a turn
to the current of her feelings, would alternately soothe, comfort, and
amuse her. He was thoughtful of her every wish and comfort, and did
all that he could to fill the void which death had made in that aged
heart.
Some of the most striking proofs of his pure and elevated
character, of his disinterested friendship and love, delicacy forbids
me to speak of, as there are those living who might be touched by them.
But I have given facts enough to show that he was no ordinary man. He
was fond of reading, quick of perception, and given to investigation.
There were but few subjects with which he was not more or less
acquainted. For, notwithstanding his close business habits, he found
much time for his favorite occupation of reading; by which means he
kept up with the religious, political, and literary news of the day.
He was a good historian, and possessed a retentive memory. I never
thought of referring to an encyclopedia, or to a dictionary, when he
was present; for I found it so much easier, and more pleasant, to
obtain needed information from him. As regards the intellectual
character of his mind, however, I do not think it was of the highest
stamp. Of all practical things he had a decided opinion. His judgment
was sound. Not marred by prejudice, nor warped by self-love, or
self-praise, or self-aggrandisement, he was enabled coolly to exercise
his powers of mind in forming a just estimate of men and things. He
possessed strong common sense, which, being balanced by a high moral
tone, and refined sensibilities, enabled him to be quick in discerning
the characters of men, but tenderly careful of their feelings and
reputation. I do not think his mind was of a metaphysical cast. He
never willingly engaged in argument of any kind, nor conversed upon
abstruse subjects. He might have said, with David, Lord, my heart is
not haughty, nor mine eyes lofty, neither do I exercise myself in great
matters, or in things too high for me. Yet he had a profound respect,
and great admiration, for the highly gifted, and the learned;
especially for those who, with these extraordinary gifts and
attainments, possessed sincere piety. He enjoyed learned disquisitions
just as he did a fine painting, the excellencies and beauties of which
he appreciated, and could point out, without knowing how to use the
brush or the pencil.
He had a keen appreciation of natural beauty, and of the art
which could represent it, either on canvas or in marble. He was fond
of poetry. But of all the poets, Burns stood first in his estimation.
He could enter so easily into the spirit of this writer, because, in
some respects, they were kindred spirits. Burns touching pathos, his
humor, his love and pity for man and beast, penetrated his own humorous
and nature-loving soul. When the centenary celebration of the birth of
this great poet took place in St. Louis, a few years ago, he was
absent, and I attended, not only for personal gratification, but that I
might, upon his return, give him an account of it. In a letter to your
mother (who was at Belmont) I alluded to the celebration, and said, It
only needed father to read the Cotters Saturday Night to have made
it complete in interest. He did read those poems beautifully; and
many of his anecdotes embodied Scotch and Irish nature, and every-day
life, which he would relate with all their native simplicity and humor,
using the brogue of the one, and the accent and provincialism of the
other, to perfection.
He was fond of music; but that, like his love of poetry, was a
simple taste, his decided preference being for Scotch and Irish
ballads. He could speak and read French well-very well, when in
practice.
In much weakness, my dear children, but looking up to God to
guide me into all truth concerning this matter, I have endeavored to
give you a faithful history of the life (as far as it goes) and
character of your beloved grandfather. I am afraid it does not do him
justice, for I have often felt how meager words are to convey an idea
of what he really was. But look at his portrait, and that benevolent,
honest, cheerful countenance, may, in some measure, make up to you what
my pen has failed to do.
I do not believe I have spoken to you of his kindness to the
poor. But ask, in St. Louis, who were among those who wrung their
hands and wept big tears around his cold remains, and you will find he
was the poor mans friend.
I have made but slight allusions to his self-denying labors in
the Church of Christ, because I know comparatively, but little of them.
He never spoke of his good works, as such, not even to me. Let not
thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth was no difficult task
for one who, alone conscious of his many infirmities, was kept truly
humble before the eye of the heart-searching God. His humility was his
crowning virtue. It adorned all the rest, and gave a certain kind of
grace, even to his greatest faults.
Affectionately yours, GRANDMA.