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LETTERS
ON THE
IMPROVEMENT OF THE MIND.
ADDRESSED TO A LADY.
BY MRS. CHAPONE.
WITH
_THE LIFE OF THE AUTHOR._
* * * * *
I consider an human Soul, without Education, like marble in
the Quarry, which shows none of its inherent Beauties till
the Skill of the Polisher fetches out the colours, makes the
surface shine, and discovers every ornamental Cloud, Spot,
and Vein, that runs through the Body of it. Education, after
the same manner, when it works upon a noble Mind, draws out
to view every latent Virtue and Perfection, which, without
such Helps, are never able to make their Appearance.
ADDISON.
* * * * *
A New Edition.
_LONDON_:
Printed by Weed and Rider, Little Britain,
FOR SCATCHERD AND LETTERMAN, AVE-MARIA LANE; LONGMAN, HURST,
REES, ORME, AND BROWN; CADELL AND DAVIES; F. C. AND J.
RIVINGTON; SHERWOOD, NEELY, AND JONES; G. AND W. B.
WHITTAKER; BALDWIN, CRADOCK, AND JOY; J. MAWMAN; J. HARRIS
AND SONS; HARVEY AND DARTON; AND C. TAYLOR.
1820.
_CONTENTS._
Letter Page
DEDICATION v
Life of Hester Chapone vii
I. On the first Principles of Religion 1
II. On the Study of the Holy Scriptures 15
III. The same Subject continued 34
IV. On the Regulation of the Heart
and Affections 51
V. The same Subject continued 66
VI. On the Government of the Temper 98
VII. On Economy 121
VIII. On Politeness and Accomplishments 143
IX. On Geography and Chronology 170
X. On the Manner and Course of reading
History 186
Conclusion 209
TO
_MRS. MONTAGU_.
MADAM,
I BELIEVE you are persuaded that I never entertained a thought of
appearing in public, when the desire of being useful to one dear child,
in whom I take the tenderest interest, induced me to write the following
Letters:--perhaps it was the partiality of friendship, which so far
biassed your judgment as to make you think them capable of being more
extensively useful, and warmly to recommend the publication of them.
Though this partiality could alone prevent your judgment from being
considered as decisive in favour of the work, it is more flattering to
the writer than any literary fame; if, however, you will allow me to
add, that some strokes of your elegant pen have corrected these Letters,
I may hope, they will be received with an attention, which will insure a
candid judgment from the reader, and perhaps will enable them to make
some useful impressions on those, to whom they are now particularly
offered.
They only, who know how your hours are employed, and of what important
value they are to the good and happiness of individuals, as well as to
the delight and improvement of the public, can justly estimate my
obligation to you for the time and consideration you have bestowed on
this little work. As _you_ have drawn it forth, I may claim a sort of
right to the ornament and protection of your name, and to the privilege
of publicly professing myself, with the highest esteem,
MADAM,
Your much obliged friend,
and most obedient
humble servant,
HESTER CHAPONE.
LIFE
OF
_HESTER CHAPONE_.
Among the illustrious women whose literary productions adorned and
improved the age in which they appeared, and are likely to be
transmitted with reputation to posterity, Mrs. Chapone is entitled to
distinguished consideration. However, incited by the persuasions and
encouraged by the applauses of Richardson, she had many prejudices to
encounter, many impediments to overcome. Female writers, always severely
scrutinized, and often condemned, had not then obtained the estimation
they have since commanded.
* * * * *
Hester Mulso, better known as Chapone, was the daughter of Thomas Mulso,
Esq. of Twywell, in Northamptonshire; who, in the year 1719, married the
posthumous daughter of Colonel Thomas, of the Guards. She lived long
enough to see the last props of an ancient and towering family fall to
the dust.
Of the immediate connections of Mr. Mulso, his elder sister, Anne, was
married to the Rev. Dr. Donne, formerly Prebendary of Canterbury; and
the younger, Susanna, to the brother of his own wife, the Rev. Dr. John
Thomas, who was preceptor to his Majesty King George III., and who
successively held the bishoprics of Peterborough, Salisbury, and
Winchester. Mr. Mulso had himself several children; but of these only
five lived to grow up, and even of the five, Charles, his third son, who
was an officer in the navy, died, in the Mediterranean, at the age of
twenty-one.
Thomas, the eldest of Mr. Mulso's sons, was bred to the law; and, for
some years, he went the Oxford circuit. He declined legal practice on
coming to the possession of his paternal inheritance; but was afterwards
made Registrar of Peterborough, and a Commissioner of Bankrupts. He
published, in 1768, 'Calistus, or the Man of Fashion;' and 'Sophronius,
or the Country Gentleman.' Thomas was the elect brother of Mrs. Chapone.
He died early in February, 1799; and, as his death was not thought near,
she lost, in him, the tie that bound her to life.
John, the second of Mr. Mulso's sons, became Prebendary of the
cathedrals of Winchester and Salisbury, and held two valuable benefices
in Hampshire. It was at the houses of this brother that Mrs. Chapone
spent much of her time; and to one of his children, her beloved niece,
the world owes her best work. He died at the prebendal residence at
Winchester, in 1791, having survived his wife one year.
Edward, the youngest son, was in the Excise Office. He was skilled in
music, and for many years President of the Anacreonic Society. Of this
brother, the life of her youth, Mrs. Chapone was also fond; and, as his
death was sudden and quick, his loss seriously affected her. He died
during the April of 1782.
Hester Mulso, the main subject of this sketch, was born on the 27th of
October, 1727; and was the only daughter whom her father had the
pleasure of seeing arrive to mature years. How soon Miss Mulso
accustomed herself to investigate what she read, and how well, may be
inferred from a passage in her published 'Miscellanies;' where, she
says, that when fifteen years old, being charmed with many of the
doctrines of the mystics, she then began to canvass them deeply; and
that, as reason grew, she was able to detect and to reject the fanciful
theology with which they were fraught. Even at nine years of age she was
an author. Accustomed to read the old romance, which suited her then
childish taste, she wrote 'The Loves of Amorat and Melissa,' which,
however defective, gave promise of the genius that distinguished her
maturer compositions. Her mind could not, however, long dwell on such
works. 'I make no scruple,' declares Miss Mulso, writing to Miss Carter,
from Peterborough, July, 1750, 'to call romances the worst of all the
species of writing: unnatural representations of the passions, false
sentiments, false precepts, false wit, false honour, and false modesty,
with a strange heap of improbable unnatural incidents, mixed up with
true history, and fastened upon some of the great names of antiquity,
make up the composition of a romance--at least of such as I have read,
which have been mostly French ones. Then the prolixity and poverty of
the style is unsupportable. I have (and yet I am still alive) drudged
through Le Grand Cyrus in twelve large volumes, Cleopatra in eight or
ten, Polexander, Ibrahim, Clelie, and some others, whose names, as well
as all the rest of them, I have forgotten; but this was in the days when
I did not choose my own books, for there was no part of my life in which
I loved romances.' This censure of romances, ancient or modern, is not
more severe than it is just. With scarcely an exception, the business of
romances is to make good bad, and bad good; to misplace and misstate
events, falsify characters, and mislead readers. They are full of grave
lies, well told, to an ill end. These are the Will o' Wisps of the mind.
Something of importance is stated, where Miss Mulso says, that she read
romances, volume upon volume, in the days when she did not choose her
own books; and when, therefore, she could not avoid this infantile
course of reading. She was not then permitted to go in her own way.
Superadded to the disadvantages then attending female education, she
struggled under domestic discouragements. Maternal vanity set itself
against her advances in literature; and it was not till the death of her
mother took place, that Miss Mulso, liberated from all impediments, felt
herself free to pursue the cultivation of her own understanding. 'I
believe,' she writes, referring to her new situation, early in 1750,
'there are few people who are better pleased and contented with their
lot than I; for I am qualified to feel my present happiness; by having
early experienced very different sensations.'
Here then is one marked era in the life of Miss Mulso. Being now
mistress of herself, as to the disposal of her time, she rapidly
compassed the circle of intellectual improvement. Notwithstanding that
she was self-instructed, she soon became mistress of the French and
Italian languages, and made some proficiency even in the Latin. Attached
thus to literature, she was also careful to select her acquaintance from
among persons who were likely to improve her own taste. It was in this
way that she cultivated an intimacy with the celebrated Richardson; and
that, in 1750, when she was twenty-three years of age, she ventured to
controvert his opinions on 'Filial Obedience.'[1]
Richardson delighted to stimulate female talents to honourable and
persevering exertions. Perhaps his partiality for epistolary
intercourse, in which he successively engaged his fair friends,
eventually decided Mrs. Chapone as to the mode of communicating her
instructions to a beloved niece.
About this time, 1749 to 1752, she wrote some poems. Her 'Ode to Peace,'
and that to Miss Carter, prefixed to Epictetus, were the first fruits of
her muse. Her verse comes up to what she thought of verse, and this
seems as much as can with truth be said of it. 'As fond as I am of the
works of fancy,' says she, 'of the bold imagery of a Shakspeare, or a
Milton, and the delicate landscapes of Thomson, I receive much greater
and more solid pleasure from their poetry, as it is the dress and
ornament of wisdom and morality, than all the flowers of fancy, and the
charms of harmonious numbers, can give
'When gay description holds the place of sense.'
Pursuing the satisfactions of literature, Miss Mulso now produced the
'Story of Fidelia.' Although this tale was written for the 'Adventurer,'
she is represented as hesitating to give it to the world; and as
publishing it only in compliance with the wishes of friendship. Little
is to be said in praise of this story. Designed, as it was, to expose
the miseries of freethinking in women, its reasoning tends rather to
stagger the unlettered moralist than to confute intellectual scepticism.
It is affected as to its style, and problematical as to its end.
While Miss Mulso was hesitating as to what should be Fidelia's fate, 'to
print or not to print,' Miss Carter, to whom she was now known, decided
her for the press. Miss Mulso idolized Miss Carter. Astonished at her
acquirements, humbled by her talents, she approaches to her as to one of
superior existence[2]. Miss Carter accepts the homage of Miss Mulso; and
seems, throughout her deportment, to view it as due to herself. Such
friends as they were, for their friendship was not mutual in kind, so
they lasted for more than fifty years. Letters were the chief cement of
their long friendship.
Nearly at the same time that Miss Mulso commenced acquaintance with Miss
Carter, it was her lot to meet with Mr. Chapone, to whom she was at last
married. This gentleman, who was practising the law, was introduced to
Richardson's friends, at North-End, near Hammersmith, and fully admitted
among them in the year 1750. 'Most heartily do I thank good Mrs. Dewes,'
writes Richardson, August 20, 1750, 'for her recommendation of Mr.
Chapone to my acquaintance and friendship. I am greatly taken with him.
A sensible, and ingenious, a modest young gentleman.' Miss Mulso's
friends own, that, from 'their first introduction, she entertained a
distinguished esteem for Mr. Chapone. It was, with her, love at first
sight; but, according to her relations, as their intimacy improved, and
her attachment became rooted, she had the gratification to perceive that
it was mutual.' She was certainly in love. 'Your opinion of the lordly
sex,' she says, writing to Miss Carter, in 1754, 'I know is not a very
high one, but yet I will one day or other make you confess that a man
may be capable of all the delicacy, purity, and tenderness, which
distinguish our sex, joined with all the best qualities that dignify his
own.' Whatever were her father's original objections to her marriage,
these were for some time found to be insuperable; for, having been made
acquainted with her passion, he, instead of immediately countenancing
her wishes, made her promise that she would not contract any matrimonial
engagement without his previous permission. Prudence forbad him to
approve, we are told, what kindness would not suffer him to prohibit.
Visiting the coterie of Richardson, during the summer of 1753, Miss
Mulso was gratified by an interview with Dr. Johnson, with whom she
before had no personal acquaintance. Her whole account of this interview
may be fitly told here. 'Mr. Johnson' (Miss Mulso is writing to Miss
Carter) 'was very communicative and entertaining, and did me the honour
to address most of his discourse to me. I had the assurance to dispute
with him on the subject of human malignity[3]; and wondered to hear a
man, who by his actions shows so much benevolence, maintain that the
human heart is naturally malevolent, and that all the benevolence we
see, in the few who are good, is acquired by reason and religion. You
may believe I entirely disagreed with him, being, as you know, fully
persuaded that benevolence, or the love of our fellow-creatures, is as
much a part of our nature as self-love; and that it cannot be
suppressed, or extinguished, without great violence from the force of
other passions. I told him I suspected him of these bad notions from
some of his Ramblers, and had accused him to you; but that you persuaded
me I had mistaken his sense. To which he answered, that if he had
betrayed such sentiments in his Ramblers, it was not with design; for
that he believed _the doctrine of human malevolence, though a true one,
is not an useful one_, and ought not to be published to the world. Is
there any truth,' subjoins Miss Mulso, 'that would not be useful, or
that should not be known?'
The misfortune is, that, on such topics as this, which must implicate
the character of man, generally as well as personally, each one writes
as each sees things, and not as things might or ought to be seen.
Establishing our individual experience as the criterion of universal
opinion, we are too apt to speak of the world as we find it; and to
conclude, that what happens to us must of necessity happen to others,
and that uniformity of experience will terminate in similarity of
decision. Perhaps truth is still clear of extremes. Man is not so bad as
some state him to be; nor is man so good as some think him to be.
Miss Mulso is now to be known as Mrs. Chapone. Perceiving that her
inclination to matrimony was decisive, Mr. Mulso, though he still
objected to the match, consented to such arrangements, towards the close
of 1760, as to admit of the union, in one day, of his eldest son,
Thomas, with Miss Prescott, and of his only daughter, Hester, with Mr.
Chapone. Living with her father, who was indulgently attached to her,
Miss Mulso had previously been permitted to enjoy, fairly and fully, the
society of Mr. Chapone.[4]
'Give me your congratulations,' writes the now Mrs. Chapone, to Miss
Carter, from town, December the 9th, 1760, 'my dear friend; but, as much
for my brother and friend (Mr. Thomas Mulso and Miss Prescott) as for
myself; for, in truth, I could not have enjoyed my own happiness in an
union with the man of my choice, had I been forced to leave them in the
same uncomfortable state of tedious and almost hopeless expectation in
which they have suffered so long. I shall rejoice to hear that you are
coming to town, and shall hope for many a comfortable tete-a-tete with
you in my lodgings in Carey Street; for there I must reside till Mr.
Chapone can get a house that suits him, which is no easy matter, as he
is so confined in point of situation,' &c. &c. Pleasing as might be the
prospect of her marriage pleasures, it will soon be seen that, as Mrs.
Barbauld wrote, 'her married life was short, and,' short as it was, 'not
very happy!'
Scarcely is Mrs. Chapone first settled, when _she seems to complain of
being in lodgings_; and, when her husband has taken a house, _still she
regrets living_ in Arundel Street, as this is '_very wide from_ Clarges
Street, where' she supposes that her friend _Miss Carter's_ '_residence_
is fixed.' Even now, dissatisfied with 'a life of hurry and
engagement,' she puts 'the drudgery of answering all the congratulatory
letters,' heaped on them as newly married, 'upon Mr. Chapone; who, _poor
man_,' says his wife, 'was _forced to humour_ me _a little at first_.'
Here is not the worst. '_I have more hours to myself_,' she adds, '_than
I wish for_; for business usually allows me _very little of my husband's
company_, except at meals.' Instead of 'many a comfortable tete-a-tete
with' Miss Carter, whom she assures of her 'most perfect dissent' from
the maxim of Johnson's school, 'that a married woman can have no
friendship but with her husband,' Chapone himself, pleased with Miss
Carter's old friendship, is represented as wondering why she never
visits his wife. 'Surely, my dear,' he would say to her, 'if Miss Carter
loved you, she would sometimes have spent a day with you; and then I
should have known her better. _If ever she loved you, I fancy she left
it off on your being married._' Mrs. Chapone's letters may explain the
absence of Miss Carter. What friend would be in haste to run to her, who
tells that she 'lived in dirt,' and in 'puddling lodgings;' and who
adds, 'at last,' that she reckons herself to be but 'tolerably settled?'
Lengthened courtships too seldom conclude with happy marriages. Six
years of the lives of one pair, 1754 to 1760, was by far too long to
make love. Our choice may prove to be our lot, just when our lot is no
more our choice.
Miss Mulso was also more than old enough for Mrs. Chapone. When women
are of disputatious dispositions[5], fixed in their notions, and do not
like learned husbands[6], because they may hope to rule simple ones,
they should marry before the age of thirty-three.
Poverty is inimical to felicity; but marriage penury, worst of woes, is
inevitably calamitous. Pecuniary difficulties long protracted the union
of Miss Mulso with Mr. Chapone, who at last died in embarrassing
circumstances. Much may be borne; but to court long, wait for wealth,
wed late, and fare ill, seem more than the griefs to which flesh is
heir.
In her advice to a beloved niece, and in the letter to a new-married
lady, there are passages perhaps referable to the fate of Mrs. Chapone.
'Young women,' she observes, '_know so little_ of the world, especially
_of the other sex_, and _such pains are usually taken to deceive them_,
that they are every way unqualified to choose for themselves, &c. Many a
heart-ache shall _I_ feel for _you_, my sweet girl, if I live a few
years longer[7]!' Equally impressive is her delineation of matrimonial
bickerings. 'Whatever may be said of the _quarrels of lovers_, (believe
_me_!) _those of married people have always dreadful consequences_,
especially if they are not very short and very slight. If _they_ are
suffered to _produce bitter or contemptuous expressions_, or betray
_habitual dislike_ in one party _of any thing in the person or mind_ of
the other, _such wounds can scarcely ever be thoroughly healed_: and
though regard to principle and character lays the married couple under a
necessity to make up the breach as well as they can, yet is their
affiance in each other's affection so rudely shaken in such conflicts,
that it can hardly ever be perfectly fixed again. _The painful
recollection of what is passed, will often intrude upon the tenderest
hours_; and every trifle will awaken and renew it. You must, _even now_,
(it is to a lady _newly married_ that Mrs. C. is addressing herself) be
particularly on your guard against _this_ source of misery.'
Within the short space of ten months after marriage, Mr. Chapone, whose
health could not have been good, was seized by a fever, which, in about
a week, terminated his mortal career. Though his illness was short, and
thought fatal at first, Mrs. Chapone was not with him for five days
before _his death_, 'as her presence was judged to be very hurtful to
him!' She then heard of his death 'with _her accustomed meekness_;' and,
continues Miss Burrows, writing to Miss Carter, September the 22d, 1761,
'you would hardly believe me were I to describe to you _her calmness and
composure_,' &c., or, 'half _the noble things she says and does_,' &c.
'_She suffered herself_,' again writes Miss Burrows, October 5, 1761,
'_to be the most consoled_, by the kindness of her friends, _I ever saw
any body in her situation_.' Mrs. Chapone was yet for some time ill, on
the death of Mr. Chapone; and she found some other difficulties[8]
against which to bear up. Circumstances shortly after induced her to
retire into lodgings upon a small but decent income, where, cultivating
her connections, she contrived to preserve her independence and
respectability. Her small property was soon augmented by the death of
her father, who did not survive her husband quite two years.
Mrs. Chapone now spent much of her time with friends. Dr. John Thomas,
her maternal uncle, being then Bishop of Winchester, she was always
welcome either at Farnham Castle, or at Winchester House. Of her various
letters from Farnham Castle, the following one, relating to royalty, is
sufficiently interesting to find its place here. It must be remembered,
that the Bishop had been preceptor to our late and venerable King.--'Mr.
Buller went to Windsor on Saturday,' writes Mrs. Chapone to Mr. Burrows,
August 20, 1778, 'saw the King, who enquired much about the Bishop; and
hearing that he would be eighty-two next Monday, "Then," said he, "I
will go and wish him joy." "And I," said the Queen, "will go too." Mr.
B. then dropped a hint of the additional pleasure it would give the
Bishop if he could see the Princes. "_That_," said the King, "requires
contrivance; but, if I can manage it, we will _all_ go".' ... Monday
morning, a little after eleven o'clock, 'came the King and Queen in
their phaeton, three coaches and six, and one coach and four, with a
large retinue of servants. They were all conducted into the great
drawing-room, by Mr. and Mrs. Buller, where, after paying their
compliments to the Bishop and Mrs. Thomas, those of the first column
remained there to breakfast; those of the second column left the room,
and were led by Mrs. T. to the dressing-room, where Mrs. T. and I were,
and where I made tea for them. After our breakfast was over, as well as
that of the upper house, the royal guests[9] came to visit me in the
dressing-room. The King sent the Princes in to pay their compliments to
_Mrs. Chapone_: himself, he said, was an old acquaintance. Whilst the
Princes were speaking to me, Mr. Arnold, sub-preceptor, said, "These
gentlemen are well acquainted with a certain Ode[10] prefixed to Mrs.
Carter's Epictetus, if you know any thing of it." Afterwards the King
came and spoke to us; and the Queen led the Princess Royal to me,
saying, "This is a young lady, who, I hope, has profited much by your
instructions[11]. She has read them more than once, and will read them
oftener;" and the Princess assented to the praise which followed, with a
very modest air. She has a sweet countenance, and simple unaffected
manners. I was pleased with all the Princes, but particularly with
Prince William, who is little of his age, but so sensible and engaging,
that he won the Bishop's heart; to whom he particularly attached
himself, and would stay with him while all the rest ran about the house.
His conversation was surprisingly manly and clever for his age: yet with
the young Bullers he was quite the boy; and said to John Buller, by way
of encouraging him to talk, "Come, we are both boys, you know." All of
them showed affectionate respect to the Bishop; the Prince of Wales
pressed his hand so hard that he hurt it. Mrs. B----'s two girls were
here, and the eldest son, and great notice was taken of them all. The
youngest girl, a comical natural little creature between eight and nine,
says she thinks it hard that Princes may not marry whom they please; and
seems not without hopes, that, if it were not for this restriction, the
Prince of Wales might prove a lover of hers.'
Dr. Thomas, to whom these royal honours were thus paid, died in May
1781, at the age of eighty-six years.
Several months of the year 1766 were passed by Mrs. Chapone at the
parsonage of her second brother, John, at Thornhill, near Wakefield, in
Yorkshire. It was then she conceived that partiality for her niece, his
eldest daughter, to which society is indebted for her 'Letters on the
Improvement of the Mind.'
Having become acquainted with Mrs. Montagu some time in 1762, she about
eight years after joined her in her tour into Scotland; a tour from
which she derived both information and amusement, and which her pen has
described with fidelity and interest. 'I am grown as bold as a lion with
Mrs. Montagu,' asserts Mrs. Chapone, two years before their tour, to
Mrs. Carter, 'and fly in her face whenever I have a mind: in short, I
enjoy her society with the most perfect _gout_; and find my love for her
takes off my fear and awe, though my respect for her character
continually increases.' Mrs. Montagu's great friendship was found
eminently conducive to the welfare of Mrs. Chapone. It added to her
sources of intellectual gratification, extended the old circle of her
acquaintance, and emboldened and encouraged her to submit her writings
to the world.
We are now to consider Mrs. Chapone's literary performances; which,
following the order of publication, consist of
Letters on the Improvement of the Mind; 1773.
Miscellanies, in Prose and Verse; 1775.
Posthumous Works; two volumes, 1804.
These latter volumes contain Mrs. Chapone's Correspondence with Mr.
Richardson, on Filial Obedience; a Matrimonial Creed, sent by her to
him; Letters to her friends; some Fugitive Poetry; and 'An Account of
her _Life and Character_, drawn up _by her own Family_.' Dismissing the
consideration of its partiality, this account, justly so called, has no
claim to the character of biography.
Her 'Letters on the Improvement of the Mind' owed much of their early
success to the talents and kindness of Mrs. Montagu. 'The bookseller,'
writes their Author, July the 20th, 1773, 'is preparing the second
edition with all haste, the whole of the first being gone out of his
hands; which, considering that he printed off fifteen hundred at first,
is an extraordinary quick sale. _I attribute this success principally to
Mrs. Montagu's name, and patronage_,' &c. More of this is told in the
Dedication of the work to her. 'I believe you (Mrs. Montagu) are
persuaded that I (Mrs. Chapone) never entertained a thought of appearing
in public, when the desire of being useful to one dear child, in whom I
take the tenderest interest[12], induced me to write the following
letters: perhaps it was the partiality of friendship which so far
biassed your judgment as to make you think them capable of being more
extensively useful, and warmly to recommend the publication of them.
If,' proceeds the author, 'you will allow me to add that _some strokes
of your elegant pen_ have corrected these Letters, I may hope _they will
be received with an attention_ which will insure a candid judgment from
the reader; and, perhaps, will enable them to _make some useful
impressions_ on those to whom they are now particularly offered.'
Notwithstanding their intrinsic excellence, various circumstances
co-operated to give to her Letters immediate popularity. Besides the
beginning preference for books on education, epistolary composition, the
style of her work, was then in very general estimation. It was the style
to which the volumes of Richardson, the correspondence of Pope, the
letters of Chesterfield and of Orrery, had familiarized the public mind.
Nor could expectation have been indifferent to any production from the
pen of one who was the friendly pupil of Samuel Richardson; in favour of
whom the discerning part of readers were already prepossessed, by the
commendation he had bestowed on her talents, and the assiduity with
which he had cultivated her correspondence. What might not be hoped from
a lady, who, when not much above twenty years of age, was considered
qualified to controvert with him the subject of paternal authority and
filial obedience? But, if admiration had been excited, it was only in
order to be gratified. Mrs. Chapone did not disappoint the expectations
entertained concerning Miss Mulso.
It is the imperishable honour of Mrs. Chapone, that the foundation of
_her_ temple of education is on the rock, and not in the sands; that the
superstructure is therefore not only beautiful, but lasting. On the
being of a God, she fixes the tottering hopes of mere mortality: and by
his Revealed Will would direct its steps, to certainty, happiness, and
glory. Nor has she been unsuccessful in displaying the benevolent
attributes of Deity, and in exciting the gratitude of the heart towards
him. Without impeaching his justice, she has exalted his mercy; without
diminishing the awe, she has increased the fervency of pious adoration;
without depreciating prayer, she has insisted on a spirit of
thanksgiving. Devotion, in her view, becomes attractive as well as
important. We love, while we obey; while we tremble, we rejoice. Resting
the ground-work of all morality on religion, _assent_ is insisted upon
prior to _investigation_; not that the latter is excluded. Since,
however, we are compelled to _act_ before we become qualified to
_think_, it is of the utmost importance that some standard be
established in the mind, for the regulation of the conduct. Religion
supplies this deficiency. Its penalties and rewards are offered, at a
time when we are principally governed by our hopes or fears; and are,
indeed, incapable of being acted upon by abstracted considerations of
right and wrong.
Of the early _historical_ parts of the Old Testament, Mrs. Chapone
speaks with the commendation they will always obtain from discriminating
minds. Nothing in profane history is equal to their beautiful
simplicity, their affecting minuteness. They are not sufficiently
studied.
On the scope of the Gospel, as delivered in the New Testament, it is
justly affirmed--'The whole tenor of the Gospel is to offer us every
help, direction, and motive, that can enable us to attain that degree of
perfection, on which depends our eternal good.' Exception must
nevertheless be taken to a few epithets, by which she endeavours to
picture a future state of blessedness; as, 'the richest imagination can
paint:' for, what imagination shall paint that which 'it hath not
entered into the heart of man to conceive?'
Letters the Fourth and Fifth, _On the Regulation of the Heart and
Affections_, display considerable knowledge of human nature, exhibit
high reasoning powers on the part of the writer, and are fraught with
excellent moral distinctions. The fifth, however, owing to the subjects
it embraces, is particularly valuable to the sex to whom it is
addressed. This encomium will apply to her sentiments _On Household
Economy_, and _On Deportment towards Servants_. The course of _Studies_
and _Accomplishments_ recommended by her, perhaps, still includes all
that is essential.
Unornamental, but not ungraceful, Mrs. Chapone's style, though plain, is
deserving of commendation. If there be one main fault in it, one
reigning vice, it is that it abounds with parentheses, which tend to
obscure it.
The success of her Letters is stated by herself to have been the source
of much good to her: she who, only ten years before, declared that 'this
world had nothing for her but a few friends,' who owns that 'a certain
weariness of life, and a sense of insignificance and insipidity,' did
then 'deject' her, now feels that the success of her writings appeased
'that uneasy sense of helplessness and insignificancy which often
depressed and afflicted her.' Her work gave her some tie to the world.
Her intellectual existence, her new life, succeeded to her sympathetic
state.
Of her next work, the 'Miscellanies,' not much need be said.
Unqualified in her admiration of the author's abilities, Mrs. Barbauld
seems to labour to explain the unpopularity of this publication. The
toil was not worth the pains. Excepting the _Letter to a New-married
Lady_, and _Three Essays_, the contents of this volume did not authorize
the distinction to which friendship conceived it to be entitled.
Her long epistolary controversy with Richardson, respecting 'Filial
Obedience' generally, evidences great superiority of thought. It extends
to three letters; of which the first is dated October 12, and the second
November 10, 1750; and the third, which is her last, bears date the 3d
of January, 1750-51. Perhaps Miss Carter was not far from the fact,
when, as now appears from one of Mrs. Chapone's Letters to her, she
called this controversy 'an unmerciful prolixity upon a plain simple
subject.' Still it is, in such hands, of much worth. Differing from
Richardson in some essential particulars, Mrs. Chapone, young as she
then was, magnanimously promulgated, and resolutely defended, her own
sentiments. Authority seems to have been here considered by Richardson
as synonymous with what most men think tyranny. Parents were to be
despots, and children to live as their bond-slaves. Obligation is
reciprocal. Subjection necessarily supposes protection; and paternal
authority has the best claim to filial obedience, where benevolence
endears dependance, and where conduct demands respect. Goldsmith told no
more than truth, when, as his Essays will show, he declared that there
were parents who got children for the gratification of tyrannising over
them.
Mrs. Chapone had the gift of letter-writing. When she writes to her few
friends, it is with ease, with sense, and with life. She does not then
write for the press. She read much, thought more, and wrote as she
thought. Many of her judgments, both of men and books, deserve to be
weighed.
The last years of life, it is painful to add, were not her best years.
Surviving those by whom life was to her rendered estimable, unshaken as
was her religion, her mind, it is acknowledged by friends, yielded to
its afflictions; 'her memory became visibly and materially impaired; and
her body was so much affected by the sufferings of her mind, that she
soon sank into a state of alarming debility.' She who bore with
'calmness and composure' the death of a husband, of him whom she calls
'the man of her choice,' felt that she lost on the death of a brother,
'her strongest tie to this world,' and 'sank into a state of alarming
debility!' Where the treasure is, there also will the heart still be
found. Sublunary happiness is at the best uncertain as unstable; and
those whose plans of good are made for this earth, will see, sooner or
later, that they have built on the sands instead of the rock.
Contracted in circumstances, and limited in the number of her friends,
Mrs. Chapone, with her youngest niece, retired to Hadley, in the autumn
of 1800; where her living near to Miss Amy Burrows[13], who had been
there for some years, opened new prospects of comfort for her rapidly
declining age.
It was now that Mrs. Chapone needed all that the most affectionate
assiduity could do for her. 'Mrs. and Miss Burrows,' continues the short
account by her family, 'were her constant visitors; and while they
surveyed, with compassion and humiliation, the awful lesson to nature
which the wreck of so bright an ornament to it presented, they omitted
no opportunity to administer every soothing means of relief she was then
capable of experiencing.' Mr. Cottrell, also, successor to the Rev. Mr.
Burrows, at Hadley, and his family, with their friends, sometimes
enlivened the solitary seclusion to which she was doomed; but her
infirmities augmented so much, at this time, that she was not able to go
down stairs more than three or four times.
Her life was near its close. October 1801, she completed her 74th year;
and on the Christmas-day following, without any direct illness, having
described herself as unusually well the day before, and after
experiencing less distemper during the last than any of the years of her
life, she fell into a doze, from which nothing could rouse her; and at
the eighth hour of the night, she drew her last breath, tranquilly and
imperceptibly, in the arms of her niece. Mrs. Burrows was also with her.
Mrs. Chapone is not represented as one who had pretensions to what men
term beauty. If, however, any credit is due to the opinion of
Richardson, who knew her in her best days, and who could judge of the
sex, there was in her something of physiognomical fascination, that
bright emanation of soul, illuminating the countenance, which, candid
and benign, gave to the face its best charm.
Music was one of her delights. Naturally possessing a voice both
mellifluous and powerful, with much true taste, and great accuracy of
ear, she, without the aid of science, would often surpass the efforts of
professional excellence. Aided by her brother[14] on the violin, her
singing frequently astonished those who were the highest judges of that
talent.[15]
Accomplished in deportment, intelligent in conversation, uniformly
agreeable to society generally, her company was coveted by all who knew
her, and sought for by numbers of persons with whom she never
associated.
Physical infirmities were to her the source of habitual misery. Cold and
wet seem to have been too much for her frame; and, by the medium of
that, for her mind.
With all her faults, for some there were in her, she was still great.
Her life may teach much that it will be well to learn; nor can too much
be said in praise of her best work.
Mrs. Chapone holds out one bright proof of what intelligence and
perseverance may in due time hope to accomplish. She cast her own lot.
Herself made herself; and to the honours of her name, great as they are,
those who tread in her steps may yet aspire.
Considering the high importance of her literary exertions, no task would
have been more pleasing than that of bestowing unqualified approbation
on her character. Her writings, already productive of good the most
extensively beneficial, will stand the imperishable monument of her
worth. While the sentiments which they inculcate are valued, and the
language in which they are conveyed is known, while virtue is loved, or
piety revered among us, the 'Letters on the Improvement of the Mind'
will suffer no diminution of that reputation in which they have been so
long held by the world.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] 'I am at present engaged with a most admirable young lady of little
more than twenty, Miss Mulso, on the subject of Filial Obedience and
Paternal Authority, &c. Miss Mulso is a charming writer, &c. Your
ladyship will be charmed with her part of the subject.' _Richardson to
Lady Bradshaigh, 1751._
'I have been engaged in a kind of amicable controversy with my honoured
friend Mr. Richardson, which has occasioned letters of so immoderate a
length between us, that I have been quite tired of pen and ink, and
inexcusably negligent of all my other correspondents. Does it not sound
strange, my dear Miss Carter, that a girl like me should have dared to
engage in a dispute with such a man? Indeed I have often wondered at my
own assurance; but the pleasure and improvement I expected from his
letters were motives too strong to be resisted, and the kind
encouragement he gave me got the better of my fear of exposing myself.'
_Miss Mulso to Miss Carter, March 1750._
This correspondence is dated from October 1750, to January 1751.
[2] 'I shall still find in her (Miss Mulso is writing _to_ and _of_ Miss
Carter) that amiable condescension, and unreserved benevolence, which
endears her conversation, and enhances the value of her understanding;
which teaches her how to improve her companions without appearing to
instruct them, to correct without seeming to reprove, and even to
reprove without offending.' _Miss Mulso to Miss Carter, September 11,
1749._
'It is impossible not to be better, as well as happier, for an intimate
acquaintance with _Miss Carter_; take her for all in all, I think, I may
venture to pronounce her _the first of women_!' _Miss Mulso to Mr.
Richardson, July 24, 1752._
[3] 'I think I read the 'Rambler' with great attention, yet I cannot
entirely acquit him of the charge of severity in his satires on mankind.
I believe him a worthy humane man; but I think I see a little of the
asperity of disappointment in his writings.' _Miss Mulso to Miss Carter,
October 1752._
'I am very unwilling to believe those that fright us with shocking
pictures of human nature, and could almost quarrel with my very great
favourite, 'The Rambler,' for his too-general censures on mankind; and
for speaking of envy and malice as universal passions.' _Ibid._
[4] 'I thank God, (Canterbury, August 29, 1757,) my best soul has now
the upper hand, by the assistance of medicine and cool weather, much
more than of reason; and perhaps by the hope of two or three days of
fancied good, in the presence of a _fancied essential_ (Mr. Chapone) to
my happiness, who has promised to come down and see me some time before
the middle of next month.'----'I shall now tell you something of myself,
who live here (Salisbury, John, the second brother to her, being then
its Prebendary) uncorrupted by grandeur, &c. &c. &c. who could prefer _a
little attorney_ (Chapone) even to my Lord Feversham; had he offered to
me, instead of the fair young lady he has so happily won.' _Miss Mulso
to Miss Carter._
[5] 'Nothing can ever make me amends for that luxurious ease and
security, in the kindness of all around me, which enables me to wrangle,
abuse, and dispute, till I am black in the face,' &c. &c. _Mrs. Chapone
to Mr. Burrows, 1773._
[6] 'It has always been one of my prayers, that I might never be the
wife of an overgrown scholar.' _Miss Mulso to Miss Carter, 1754._
[7] Letters on the Improvement of the Mind, edit. 1801, pages 93, 94.
[8] 'I have been very near death; and, at the time he threatened me
most, it was the most earnest wish of my heart to meet and embrace him.
But, I bless God, I am restored not only to life, but to a sense of the
great mercy indulged me in the grant of a longer tern of trial.'--'You
are so obligingly solicitous about my circumstances, that I would
willingly inform you of the state of them, if I had any certainty about
them. But my dear Mr. Chapone's affairs were left in great confusion and
perplexity by his sudden death; which happened just at the time of year
in which he should have settled his accounts, and made out his bills. As
these are very considerable, his estate must suffer a great loss from
this circumstance. At present, things are in a very melancholy state,
and my own prospects such as would probably have appeared very dreadful
to me at any other time.' _Mrs. Chapone to Miss Carter, December 6,
1761._
[9] King George III. and Queen Charlotte; his present Majesty, then
Prince of Wales, and sixteen years old; Prince Frederic, Duke of York,
then fifteen years old; Prince William, Duke of Clarence, then thirteen
years old; Princess Royal, now Queen of Wirtemberg, then about fourteen
years old, and Princess Augusta, then about ten years old.
[10] Addressed by Mrs. Chapone to her friend Mrs. Carter.
[11] 'Letters on the Improvement of the Mind.' They had been published
five years then.
[12] This young lady, of whom the reader must wish to know more, was the
eldest daughter of Mrs. Chapone's second brother, John, who was
Prebendary of the cathedrals of Winchester and Salisbury. She became
attached to this niece in 1766, while on a visit at her home; wrote the
Letters, to her, in 1772; and, stimulated by her literary friends,
published them in 1773.--'I had great satisfaction,' writes Mrs. Chapone
to Miss Carter, November 1797, 'in seeing my darling niece established
in the happiest manner, at Winchester, with husband (Rev. Benjamin
Jeffreys) who seems in every respect calculated to make her happy.' Mrs.
Chapone passed the autumns 1797 and 1798 at the Deanery at Winchester.
Here she awaited the approaching accouchement of her dearest niece,
which was destined to terminate one or her fondest hopes. This last joy
of her life, this child of her heart, was now torn from her, after the
birth of a dead infant, in March 1799.
[13] Of the family of the Burrows's, who were her tried friends, 'I am
glad,' writes Mrs. Chapone to Miss Carter, July 31, 1761, 'that you love
my Burrows's, who are, indeed, some of the most valuable persons I have
ever known.----Poor Miss Amy (who was her last prop!) is still
complaining, and consequently her sisters are anxious and unhappy.----I
wish you were to hear Mr. Burrows preach. There is a simplicity and an
earnestness in his manner more affecting than any thing I ever heard
from the pulpit.' Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Elizabeth Burrows, two of the
sisters mentioned in this place, together with Mr. and Mrs. Burrows,
died before Mrs. Chapone's final retreat to Hadley; so that 'out of that
amiable and happy circle with whom she delighted to associate, and on
whom she relied as the sources of the most refined enjoyments, only one
sister, the present Mrs. Amy Burrows, remained to bestow on her that
heartfelt consolation which this inestimable friend never failed to
administer.' The houses of Mr. Burrows, with his wife and two younger
sisters, and of his eldest sister, wife of Sir Culling Smith, Bart. were
long her favourite asylums, and the hours spent by her in them were
among the most happy of her life.
[14] Edward Mulso. 'Since you went,' (Miss Carter had just left the then
Miss Mulso,) 'I have done nothing,' writes Mrs. C., 'but sing
Metastasio's song. I am distracted for a tune that will go to the
Translation, that I might sing that, from morning to night. I have made
_Neddy_ walk with me to the tree, by Sir _Edward_ Hale's park; and
intend often to reconnoitre the spot where you sat by me there.'--'Your
friend _Edward_ is with us; and we make a pretty little concert at home,
pretty often,' &c. &c.
[15] The following compliment to the vocal powers of Mrs. C., though
high, appears to be ingenuous. Dr. Kennicott, relating the University
Festival, at Oxford, in a letter to Richardson, dated Exeter College,
June 9, 1754, observes--"The first clap of applause was upon _Forasi's_
taking her place in the orchestra; _Signiora_ seemed a little too
sensible of the honour, &c. But I forgive her; for indeed _she_ sings--I
cannot say _most_ delightfully--for have I not heard Miss _Mulso_?"
LETTERS ON THE IMPROVEMENT OF THE MIND.
LETTER I.
ON THE FIRST PRINCIPLES OF RELIGION.
_MY DEAREST NIECE_,