of mine could do justice. He has been publicly mourned from more than
one Christian pulpit; and Dr. Channing, in a discourse after his death,
has spoken of him as one whom "many thought the most perfect man they
ever knew." Among those many I was one. I have never seen any one whom I
revered, loved, and admired more than I did Dr. Follen. He perished,
with above a hundred others, in a burning steam-boat, on the Long Island
Sound; at night, and in mid-winter, the freezing waters affording no
chance of escape to the boldest swimmer or the most tenacious clinger to
existence. He perished in the very flower of vigorous manhood, cut off
in the midst of excellent usefulness, separated, _for the first time_,
from a most dearly loved wife and child, who were prevented from
accompanying him by sickness. In a scene of indescribable terror,
confusion, and dismay, that noble and good man closed his life; and all
who have spoken of him have said, "Could one have seen his countenance,
doubtless it was to the last the mirror of his serene and steadfast
spirit;" and for myself, after the first shock of hearing of that awful
calamity, I could only think it mattered not how or where that man met
his death. He was always near to God, and who can doubt that, in that
scene of apparent horror and despair, God was very near to him?
Even so, my dearest Harriet, do I now think of the impending fate of
Dorothy; but oh, the difference between the sudden catastrophe in the
one case, and the foreknowledge granted in the other! Time, whose awful
uses our blind security so habitually forgets, is granted to her, with
its inestimable value marked on it by the finger of death, undimmed by
the busy hands of earthly pursuits and interests; she has, and will
have, her dearest friends and lovers about her to the very end; and I
know of no prayer that I should frame for her, but exemption from acute
pain. For you, my dearest Harriet, if pain and woe and suffering are
appointed you, it is to some good purpose, and you may make it answer
its best ends.
These seem almost cold-hearted words, and yet God knows from how warm a
heart, full of love and aching with sympathy, I write them! But sorrow
is His angel, His minister, His messenger who does His will, waiting
upon our souls with blessed influences. My only consolation, in thinking
upon your affliction, is to remember that all events are ordered by our
Father, and to reflect, as I often do----
I had written thus far, dearest Harriet, when a miserable letter from
Georgia came to interrupt me. How earnestly, in the midst of the tears
through which I read it, I had to recall those very thoughts, in my own
behalf, which I was just urging upon you, you can imagine....
We may not choose our own discipline; but happy are they who are called
to suffer themselves, rather than to see those they love do so!...
My head aches, and my eyes ache, and my heart aches, and I cannot muster
courage to write any more. God bless you, my dearest Harriet. Remember
me most affectionately to dear Dorothy, and
Believe me ever yours,
F. A. B.
[Dr. Charles Follen, known in his own country as Carl Follenius,
became an exile from it for the sake of his political convictions,
which in his youth he had advocated with a passionate fervor that
made him, even in his college days, obnoxious to its governing
authorities. He wrote some fine spirited Volkslieder that the
students approved of more than the masters; and was so conspicuous
in the vanguard of liberal opinion, that the Vaterland became an
unwholesome residence for him, and he emigrated to America, where
all his aspirations towards enlightened freedom found "elbow-room."
He became an ordained Unitarian preacher; and it was a striking
tribute to his spirit of humane tolerance as well as to his eloquent
advocacy of his own high spiritual faith, that he was once earnestly
and respectfully solicited to give a series of discourses upon
Christianity, to a society of intelligent men who professed
themselves dis-believers in it (atheists, materialists, for aught I
know), inasmuch as from him they felt sure of a powerful, clear, and
earnest exposition of his own opinions, unalloyed by uttered or
implied condemnation of them for differing from him. I do not know
whether Dr. Follen complied with this petition, but I remember his
saying how much he had been touched by it, and how glad he should be
to address such a body of mis- or dis-believers. He was a man of
remarkable physical vigor, and excelled in all feats of strength and
activity, having, when first he came to Boston, opened a gymnasium
for the training of the young Harvard scholars in such exercises. He
had the sensibility and gentleness of a woman, the imagination of a
poet, and the courage of a hero; a genial kindly sense of humor, and
buoyant elastic spirit of joyousness, that made him, with his fine
intellectual and moral qualities, an incomparable friend and teacher
to the young, for whose rejoicing vitality he had the sympathy of
fellowship as well as the indulgence of mature age, and whose
enthusiasm he naturally excited to the highest degree.
His countenance was the reflection of his noble nature. My
intercourse with him influenced my life while it lasted, and long
after his death the thought of what would have been approved or
condemned by him affected my actions.
Many years after his death, I was speaking of him to Waeleker, the
Nestor of German professors, the most learned of German
philologists, historians, archaeologists, and antiquarians, and he
broke out into enthusiastic praise of Follen, who had been his
pupil at Jena, and to whose mental and moral worth he bore, with
deep emotion, a glowing testimony.]
BUTLER PLACE, March 23rd, 1840.
I have just learned, dearest Harriet, that the Censorship [office of
licenser of plays] has been transferred from my father to my brother
John, which I am very glad to hear, as I imagine, though I do not know
it, that the death of Mr. Beaumont must have put an end to the existence
of the _British and Foreign Review_, for which he employed my brother as
editor.
If the salary of licenser is an addition to the income attached to his
editorship of the _Review_, my brother will be placed in comfortable
circumstances; and I hope this may prove to be the case--though ladies
are not apt to be so in love with abstract political principles as to
risk certain thousands every year merely to promote their quarterly
illustration in a _Review_, and I shall not be at all surprised to learn
that Mrs. Beaumont declines doing so any longer.
[Mrs. Wentworth Beaumont, mother of my brother John's friend, must
have been a woman of very decided political opinions, and very
liberal views of the value of her convictions--in hard cash. Left
the widowed mistress of a princely estate in Yorkshire, on the
occasion when the most passionate contest recorded in modern
electioneering made it doubtful whether the Government candidate or
the one whose politics were more in accordance with her own would be
returned to Parliament, she, then a very old lady, drove in her
travelling-carriage with four horses to Downing Street, and
demanding to see the Prime Minister, with whom she was well
acquainted, accosted him thus: "Well, my lord, are you quite
determined to make your man stand for _our_ seat?" "Yes, Mrs.
Beaumont, I think quite determined." "Very well," replied the lady;
"I am on my way down to Yorkshire, with eighty thousand pounds in
the carriage for my man. Try and do better than that."
I am afraid the _pros_ and _cons_ for Woman's Suffrage would alike
have thought that very expensive female partisan politician hardly
to be trusted with the franchise. Lord Dacre, who told me that
anecdote, told me also that on one occasion forty thousand pounds,
to his knowledge, had been spent by Government on a contested
election--I think he said at Norwich.] ...
The longer I live, the less I think of the importance of any or all
outward circumstances, and the more important I think the original
powers and dispositions of people submitted to their influence. God has
permitted no situation to be exempt from trial and temptation, and few,
if any, to be entirely exempt from good influences and opportunities for
using them. The tumult of the inward creature may exist in the midst of
the calmest outward daily life, and the peace which passeth
understanding subsist in the turmoil of the most adverse
circumstances.... Our desires tending towards particular objects, we
naturally seek the position most favorable for obtaining them; and,
stand where we will, we are still, if we so choose, on the heavenward
road. If we know how barely responsible for what they are many human
beings necessarily must be, how much better does God know it! With many
persons, whose position we regret and think unfortunate for their
character, we might have to go far back, and retrace in the awful
influence of inheritance the source of the evils we deplore in them. We
need have much faith in the future to look hopefully at the present, and
perfect faith in the mercy of our Father in heaven, who alone knows how
much or how little of His blessed light has reached every soul of us
through precept and example....
You ask me of Margery's successor: she is an honest, conscientious, and
most ignorant Irish Protestant. You cannot conceive of what materials
our households are composed here. The Americans, whose superior
intelligence and education make them by far the most desirable servants
we could have, detest the condition of domestic service so utterly, that
it is next to impossible to procure them, and absolutely impossible to
retain them above a year. The lowest order of Irish are the only persons
that can be obtained. They offer themselves, and are accepted of hard
necessity, indiscriminately, for any situation in a house, from that of
lady's-maid to that of cook; and, indeed, they are equally unfit for
all, having probably never seen so much as the inside of a decent house
till they came to this country. To illustrate--my housemaid is the
sister of my present nursery-maid, and on the occasion of the latter
taking her holiday in town, the other had the temporary charge of the
children, and, when first she undertook it, had to be duly enlightened
as to the toilet purposes of a wash-hand basin, a sponge, and a
toothbrush, not one of which had she apparently been familiar with
before; and this would have been the case with a large proportion of the
Irish girls who present themselves here to be engaged as our servants.
Our household has been reduced for some time past, and I have no maid of
my own; and when the nurse is in town I am obliged to forego the usual
decency of changing my dress for dinner, from the utter incapacity of my
housemaid to fasten it upon my back. Of course, except tolerably
faithful washing, dressing, and bodily care, I can expect nothing for my
children from my present nurse. She is a very good and pious girl, and
though her language is nothing short of heathen Greek, her sentiments
are very much those of a good Christian. This same service is a source
of considerable daily tribulations, and I wish I only improved all my
opportunities of practising patience and forbearance....
F. A. B.
BUTLER PLACE, March 25th, 1840.
MY DEAR T----,
I have been reading with infinite interest the case of the _Amistad_;
but understand, from Mrs. Charles Sedgwick, that there is to be an
appeal upon the matter. As, however, the result will, I presume, be the
same, the more publicity the affair obtains, the more it and all kindred
subjects are discussed, spoken of, thought on, and written about, the
better for us unfortunate slaveholders.
I am very much obliged to you for sending me that article on Mr. Jay's
book. You know how earnestly I look to every sign of the approaching
termination of this national disgrace and individual misfortune; and
when men of ability and character conscientiously raise their voices
against it, who can be so faint-hearted as not to have faith in its
ultimate downfall?
Your very name pledges you in some sort to this cause, and, among your
other important duties, let me (who am now involuntarily implicated in
this terrible abuse) beg you to remember that this one is an
inheritance; and for the sake of those, justly honored, who have
bequeathed it to you, discharge it with the ability nature has so
bountifully endowed you with, and you cannot fail to accomplish great
good.
In reading your article, I was much reminded of Legget, whose place, it
seems to me, there is none but you to fill.
I have just been interrupted by a letter from Elizabeth, confirming the
news of your sister's return from Europe. I congratulate you heartily
upon the termination of your anxieties about her. Remember me most
kindly to her, and to your mother, if my message can be made acceptable
to her in her present affliction, and believe me
Ever yours most truly,
F. A. B.
[The _Amistad_ was a low raking schooner, conveying between fifty
and sixty negroes, fresh from Africa, from Havannah to Guamapah,
Port Principe, to the plantation of one of the passengers. The
captain and three of the crew were murdered by the negroes. Two
planters were spared to navigate the vessel back to Africa. Forced
to steer east all day, these white men steered west and north all
night; and after two months, coming near New London, the schooner
was captured by the United States schooner _Washington_, and carried
into port, where a trial was held by the Circuit Court at Hertford,
transferred to the District Court, and sent by appeal to the United
States Supreme Court. The District Court decreed that one man, not
of the recent importation, should, by the treaty of 1795 with Spain,
be restored to his master; the rest, delivered to the President of
the United States, to be by him transported to their homes in
Africa.
Before the case could come before the United States Supreme Court,
the President (Mr. Van Buren), upon the requisition of the Spanish
minister, had the negroes conveyed, by the United States schooner
_Grampus_, back to Havannah and to slavery, under the treaty of
1795.
The case created an immense excitement among the friends and foes of
slavery. The point made by the counsel for the negroes being that
they were not slaves, but free Africans, freshly brought to Cuba,
contrary to the latest enacted laws of Spain. The schooner _Amistad_
started on her voyage to Africa in June, 1839, reached New London in
August, and was sent back in January, 1840.]
BUTLER PLACE, April 5th, 1840.
DEAREST HARRIET,
I have received both your letters concerning Dorothy's health. The one
which you sent by the _British Queen_ came before one you previously
wrote me from Liverpool, and destroyed all the pleasure I should have
received from the cheerful spirit in which the latter was written.
I was reading the other evening a sermon of Dr. Channing's, suggested by
the miserable destruction of a steamboat with the loss of upwards of a
hundred lives; among them, one precious to all who knew him perished, a
man who, I think, had few equals, and to whose uncommon character all
who ever knew him bear witness.
The fate of so excellent a human being, cut off in the flower of his
age, in the midst of a career of uncommon worth and usefulness, inspired
Dr. Channing, who was his dear friend, with one of the finest discourses
in which Christian faith ever "justified the ways of God to Man."
In reading that eloquent sermon, so full of hope, of trust, of
resignation, and rational acknowledgment of the great purposes of
sorrow, my thoughts turned to you, dearest Harriet, and dwelt upon your
present trial, and on the impending loss of your dear friend. I have not
the sermon by me, or I could scarce resist transcribing passages from
it; but if you can procure it, do. It was written on the occasion of the
burning of the steamboat _Lexington_, and in memory of Dr. Charles
Follen.
One of the views that impressed me most, of those urged by Channing, was
that sorrow--however considered by us, individually, as a shocking
accident,--in God's providence, was a large part of the appointed
experience of existence: no blot, no jar, no sudden violent visitation
of wrath; but part of the light, and harmony, and order, of our
spiritual education; an essential and invaluable portion of our
experience, of infinite importance in our moral training. To all it is
decreed to suffer; through our bodies, through our minds, through our
affections, through the noblest as well as the lowest of our attributes
of being. This then, he argues, which enters so largely into the
existence of every living soul, should never be regarded with an eye of
terror, as an appalling liability or a fearful unaccountable disturbance
in the course of our lives.
I suppose it is the rarefied air our spirits breathe on great heights
of achievement; as vital to our moral nature as the pure mountain
element, which stimulates our lungs, is to our physical being. In
sorrow, faithfully borne, the glory and the blessing of holiness become
hourly more apparent to us; and it must be good for us to suffer, since
our dear Father lays suffering upon us. If we believe one word of what
we daily repeat, and profess to believe, of His mercy and goodness, we
must needs believe that the pain and grief which enter so largely into
His government of and provision for us are all part of His goodness and
mercy.... I pray that you, and I, and all, may learn more and more to
accept His will, even as His Son, our perfect pattern, accepted it....
J---- B---- has already returned home from the South, weary of the heat,
and the oppressive _smell of the orange flowers_ on Butler's Island....
The tranquillity of my outward circumstances has its counterweight m the
excitability of my nature. I think upon the whole, the task and load of
life is very equal, its labors and its burdens very equal: they only
have real sorrow who make it for themselves, in their own hearts, by
their own faults; and they only have real joy who make and keep it there
by their own effort....
Katharine Sedgwick writes in great disappointment at your not being in
Italy this winter, and so does her niece, my dear little Kate. Those are
loving hearts, and most good Christians; they have been like sisters to
me in this strange land; I am gratefully attached to them, and long for
their return. God bless you, dear. Give my affectionate remembrance to
Dorothy, and
Believe me ever yours,
F. A. B.
BUTLER PLACE, April 30th, 1840.
MY DEAREST HARRIET,
Of course I have begun to die already: which I believe people do as soon
as they reach maturity; at any rate, the process begins, I am sure, much
earlier, and is much more gradual and uninterrupted, than we suppose or
are aware of. Most persons, I think, begin to die at about thirty; some
take a longer, and some a shorter time in becoming quite entirely dead,
but after that age I do not believe anybody is quite entirely alive....
Still, though somewhat dead (as I have most reason to know), to the
eyes of most people I am even now an uncommonly lively woman; and while
my soul is at peace, and my spirits cheerful, I am not myself painfully
conscious that I am dying.... The treasure of health was mine in
perfection, almost for five and twenty years, and I do not see that I
should have any right to complain that I no longer possess it as fully
as I once did....
You and I have changed places curiously enough, since first we began to
hold arguments together; and it seems as strange that you should
disparage reason to me, as the chief instrument of education, as that I
should be upholding it against your disparagement. The longer I live,
the more convinced my _reason_ is of the goodness and wisdom of God; and
from what my _reason_ can perceive of these attributes of our Father my
_faith_ derives the surest foundation on which to build perfect trust
and confidence, where my _reason_ can no longer discern the meaning of
my existence, the exact purpose of its several events, and significance
of its circumstances. Entire faith in God seems to me entirely
reasonable; but, indeed, I have yet had no experience of any
dispensations of Divine Providence which at all tried or shook my
reason, or disturbed my trust in their unfailing righteousness.
Our reason, above all our other faculties, shows us how little we can
know; and it is the very function of reason to perceive how finite,
vague, and feeble all our conceptions of the Almighty must be; how
utterly futile all our attempts to fathom His purposes, whose ways are
assuredly not our ways, nor His thoughts our thoughts.
The spring has come; the mysterious resurrection which with its annually
recurring miracle adorns the earth, and makes the heavens above it
bright; and even on this uninteresting place, the flush of rosy bloom
down in the apple-orchard, the tender green halo above, the golden green
atmosphere beneath the trees of the avenue, the smell of the blossoms,
the songs of the birds, awaken impressions of delight; and while the
senses rejoice, the soul worships. Tulips, and hyacinths, and lilacs,
and monthly roses shake about in the soft wind, and scatter their
colored petals like jewels among the young vivid verdure. Delicate
shadows of delicate leaves lie drawn in quivering tracery on the smooth
emerald grass. My garden is a source of pleasure and perpetual
occupation to me. Here, where ornamental cultivation is so little
attended to, my small improvements of our small pleasure-ground are
repaid, not only by my own enjoyment, but by the admiring commendation
of all who knew the place before we came to it; and as within the last
two years I have planted upwards of two hundred trees, I begin to feel
as if I had really done something in my generation. Good-bye, dear.
I remain ever yours,
F. A. B.
BUTLER PLACE, June 7th, 1840.
Thank you, my dear Mrs. Jameson, for your letter of April 4th. It was
interesting and amusing enough to have been written by one whose
thoughts and feelings were far otherwise free and cheerful than yours
could have been when you indited it. I lament the protraction of your
father's illness very much, for your mother's sake, and all your sakes.
A serious illness at his period of life is not a circumstance to cause
surprise; but its long continuance is to be deprecated, no less for the
sufferer than those whose health and strength, expended in anxious
watching, can leave them but little fortitude to meet the result should
it prove fatal. I hope to hear in your next that your mother is relieved
from her present painful position, and that your own spirits are more
cheerful.
I have not seen even as much as an extract from Leigh Hunt's play [I
think called a "Legend of Florence," and founded upon the incident that
gave its name to the Via della Morte in the fair city]; but I am very
glad he has written one, and hope he will write others: certain elements
of his genius are essentially those of an effective dramatist, and
surely, if the public can swallow a play of ----'s, it might be brought
to taste one of Leigh Hunt's. I dislike everything that ---- ever wrote,
and think he ought to have been a Frenchman. Can one say worse of a man
who is not?...
You ask me if writing plays is not pleasanter and more profitable than
reading Gibbon. Certainly, if one only has the mind to do the one
instead of the other, which at present I have not.
I have sometimes fancied it was my duty to work out such talent of that
kind as was in me; but I have hitherto not felt at all sure that I had
any such gift which, you know, would be necessary before I could
determine what was my duty with regard to it. I never write anything
but upon impulse--all my compositions are impromptus; and the species of
atmosphere I live in is not favorable to that order of inspiration. The
outward sameness of my life; its uniformity of color, level surface, and
monotonous tone; its unvaried tenor, alike devoid of pleasurable and
painful excitement; its wholesome abundance of daily recurring trivial
occupations, and absence of any great or varied interests; its entire
isolation from all literary and intellectual society, which might strike
the fire from the sleepy stone--all these influences prevail against my
writing.