\'4 . - (Qsn^nsismi. ' &\Q. C/^o-t^ WOMEN OF WORTH. As when the night its highest noon attains, And not a cloud o'ercasts the blue serene, The stars diffused through all the ethereal plain*, And all arrayed in living light are seen.; 80 in this night of time -what patterns rise, Rich in celestial lustres to adorn And bless our world, till from those lower skies Shine the full glories of that promised morn, "When Jesns rising, like the orient sun Shall drown these stars in his superior rays, And all these saints, their race nocturnal run, Alone on his unrivalled beauties gaze. But till this day shall break, how much we ow* To those divine examples that illume Oar tourney through this vale of sin and e> Direct our steps and half dispel our gloom. Ye fair, heaven's kindest, noblest gift to man, Adorned with every charm and every grace, The flame your forms inspire let virtue fan, And let the mind be lovelier than the face. Daughters of Eve, or In your silver hairs, Or flourishing in youth's auspicious bloom, The soul, the immortal soul, demands your cares; Oh live as heirs of endless life to come! Well weigh your various characters, fulfil All your relations both to God and man, Press to be perfect, high, mount higher still ; f!rown, crowd with blessings your contracted spta. JOHN FLAXMAN RUINED FOR AN ARTIST. " 'So, Flaxmnn," said the President one day, as he chanced to meet him, 'I am told yon nre mar ried ; if so, sir, 1 tell yon you are ruined for an artist.' Flaiman went home, sat down beside his wife, took her hand, and said, with a smile, I am ruined for an nrtist.' ' John, ' raid she, how has this happened, and who haa done it !' ' It happened,' said he, ' in the church, and Ann Penman has done it ; I met Sir Joshua Reynolds just now, and he said marriage had ruined me in my profession."' PAGE 964. i* I ! .7 A M K. S C3- . G- K K G- O K Y . 1863. CONTENTS. MM Mary Washington, the Illustrious Matron 9 Martha Washington, the True Wife 22 Charlotte BronUS, the Worthy Daughter 27 Elizabeth Fry, the Newgate School-Mistress 58 Sarah Martin, the Jail Missionary 76 Margaret Mercer, the Worker of Charity 94 Sarah Boardman Judson, the Teacher in the Wilds 106 Lady Russell, the Noble Dame 121 Lucy Ilutcliinson, the Pattern of Domestic Virtue 132 Isabel the Catholic, the Friend of Columbus 139 Mrs. Elizabeth Rowe, the Earnest Christian 176 Maria Theresa, the Star of Austria 185 Madame Oberlin, the Pastor's Helpmate 193 Ann Letitia Barbauld, the Children's Favorite 199 Rebecca Motte, the Devoted Patriot 226 Madame Keeker, the Estimable Governess 231 Caroline L. Horechel, the Patient Astronomer 237 Hannah More, the Quiet Reformer 242 Ann Flaxman, the Sculptor's Assistant 263 Mrs. Wordsworth, the Poet'a Companion 267 Harriet Newell, the Christian Heroine 272 Sarah Lanman Smith, the Missionary's Wife 277 Lady Warwick, the laborer in the Vineyard, 283 Lady Mackintosh, the Guardian Angel 300 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. FAGI John Flaxman ruined for an Artist. Frontispiece. Elizabeth Fry Reading to the Newgate Prisoners. Vig- nette Title. The "Worthy Daughter, Charlotte Bronte" 44 Sarah Martin and her Jail Congregation 84 Sarah Judson and the Burmese Freebooters 113 Columbus Returns from the "New "World" 166 Madeleine Oberlin Visiting the Sick 198 Sir "William Herschel's Astronomical Assistant. . . 240 PREFATORY NOTE. THE RELATION OF BIOGRAPHY TO EVERY-DAY LIFE. ' It Is tbc divinest thing to be good." JOHN FOATCB. "Goodness Is beauty In Its best estate." MARLOWE. " The true mark of a good heart, is Its capacity for loving." MADAME DE SETIONE. THE following Biographical Sketches form, it is bdicvi-cl, :i book which a woman of any age may take up with pleasure and profit; while to the young it may bo of unformed character the work is calculated to be more specially useful, in r as it serves to show how those who were of "The Excellent of the Earth" walked amongst us. After a careful examination of the numerous books which treat of the lives and works of notable \\oniiii, it may !>< sufficient to remark that if the editor of the present volume has made even an approach to the standard kept in view, this pub- lication will be found to present elenu'tits of ehar- and examples of action in a manner likely to t wholesome influence while it possesses a distinctive t<>m>. In conjunction with this pervading spirit it has been an object to combine in one cheap volume, vi PREFATORY: NOTE. brief, graphic, and suggestive sketches, not only of those already famous in the annals of female worth, but of those whose li ves, from having been spent in the midst of us, or at least within the memory of a still-existing generation, have thus, to some extent, been overlooked in previous collections of a some- what similar character. The aim has therefore been to record "deeds which should not pass away, and names that must not wither." With respect to the materials of which the book is composed a few words are necessary. The more lengthy sketches are original, enriched by a little fresh information from private sources. Of the shorter lives, the majority are taken from the third era of Sarah Josepha Hale's "Records of Women."* The interesting account of the labors of Sarah Mar- tin is gathered from the pages of the " Edinburgh Review ;" and the sketch of Mrs. Elizabeth Rowe is derived from Miss Kavanagh's "Women of Christianity." Every life here given has at least its one phase of excellence ; but not a few of them are worthy of contemplation under many aspects, and of imitation in several ways. In all we see blended the fruits of that labor, patience, truth, trust, and love which are the crown and glory of woman. There are not here many names of the great and Woman's Record ; or Sketches of all Distinguished Women from the Creation to A. D. 1854. By Sarah Josepha Hale. New York : Har- . per Brothers. PREFATORY NOTE. Vll titled. All honor to those who, with all the weak- Mae of our common humanity, have borne meekly and bravely the trials of prosperity and high sta- tion: the full cup needs a steady hand. It has rather been designed to draw lessons from more commonplace people, and to show something of the poetry and charm of every-day life from a notion that thereby the book will be more impressive to the majority of readers. Perhaps it may serve to soothe, encourage, and sustain, as well as to warn and guide. For, as good old Jeremy Taylor has well put it, good books, and the examples of good lives, are amongst the thousands of excellent arts which it has pleased God to use to win us. It is no doubt often a difficult matter for an en- thusiastic young woman to settle into the harness of every-day life. It seems so easy and so fine to act gracefully or grandly upon grand occasions, amongst people who are to one's taste. It is often very hard for a time (we use the words of a piquant and thoughtful writer) to learn that "fellow-mor- tals, every one, must be accepted as they are : you can neither straighten their noses, nor brighten their wit, nor rectify their dispositions ; and it is these people amongst whom your life is passed that it is needful you should tolerate, pity, and love ; it is these more or less ugly, stupid, incon- sistent people whose movements of goodness you should be able to admire for whom you should all possible hopes, all possible patience. In this world there are so many of these Vlll PREFATORY NOTE. common, coarse people, who have no picturesque sentimental wretchedness! It is so needful we should remember their existence, else we may happen to leave them quite out of our religion and philanthropy, and frame lofty ideas which only fit a world of extremes There are few prophets in the world; few sublimely beautiful women ; few heroes. I can't afford to give all my love and reverence to such rarities : I want a great deal of those feelings for my every-day fellows, es- pecially for the few in the foreground of the great multitude, whose faces I know, whose hands I touch, for whom I have to make way with kindly courtesy." And so it will be a good thing if this gathering of exemplary lives will teach some to study to be kind, and others to be quiet, and all to be cheerfuL THE EDITOE. OF WORTH. THE ILLUSTRIOUS MATRON, MARY WASHINGTON, TIIK mother of George Washington, the hero of the American revolutionary Avar, and the first president of the United States, claims the noblest ili-tiiu lion a woman should covet or can gain, that of training her gifted son in the way he should go, and inspiring him by her example to make the way of goodne<- hi> ]>ath to glory.* Krs. Mary Washington was descended from the very n-spcctalile family of Ball, who settled as Ku;_'Ii-h c<>lts on the banks of the Potomac. ; in tlmse domestic and independent habits which graced the Virginia matrons in the old days of Virginia, this lady, by the death of her husband, "!' involved in the cares of a youn^ family, at a ju-r'-- vhcn those cares seem more especially to TbU b. ..phy WM writUn bjr George W. P. CuitU, grandson of Mr*. MwlUa Wlln k 'tn. 10 WOMEK OF WORTH, claim the aid and control of the stronger sex. It was left for this eminent woman, by a method the most rare, by an education and discipline the most peculiar and imposing, to form in the youth-time of her son those great and essential qualities which gave lustre to the glories of his after-life. If the school savored the more of the Spartan than the Persian character, it was a fitter school to form a hero, destined to be the ornament of the age in which he flourished, and a standard of excellence for ages yet to come. It Avas remarked by the ancients, that the mother always gave the tone to the character of the child ; and we may be permitted to say that, since the days of old renown, a mother has not lived better fitted to give the tone and character of real great- ness to her child, than she whose remarkable life and actions this reminiscence will endeavor to illus- trate. At the tune of his father's death, George Wash- ington was only ten years of age. He has been heard to say that he knew little of his father, except the remembrance of his person, and of his parental fondness. To his mother's forming care he himself ascribed the origin of his fortunes and his fame. The home of Mrs. Washington, of which she was always mistress, was a pattern of order. There the levity and indulgence common to youth were tempered by a deference and well-regulated re- straint, which, while it neither suppressed nor con- MART WASHINGTON. 11 dcmned any rational enjoyment usual in the spring- time of lite, jire-iTilied those enjoyments within tin- bounds of moderation and propriety. Thus tlu- chief was taught the duty of obedience, which prepared him to command. Still the mother held in reserve an authority which never departed from her, even when her son had become the most illus- trious of men. It seemed to say, "I am your mother, the being who gave you life, the guide who directed your steps when they needed a guar- dian ; my maternal affection drew forth your love ; my authority constrained your spirit ; whatever may be your success or your renown, next to your God, your reverence is due to me." Nor did the ehief e altered, when the sun of glory arose upon her house. There are some of the aged inhabit- ants of Fredcricksburg who well remember the matron, as seated in an old-fashioned open chaise, she was in the habit of visiting, almost daily, her little farm in the vicinity of the town When there, she would ride about her fields, giving her orders, and seeing that they were obeyed. Her great indu>lry, with the well-regulated econ- omy of all her concerns, enabled the matron to dis- PCIIM- considerable charities to the poor, although her own circumstances were always far from rich. All manner of domestic economies, so useful in tho-e times of privation and trouble, met her zeal- ous attention ; while every thing about her house- hold bore marks of her care and management, and many things the impress of her o\vn hands. In a very humble dwelling, and sallcring under an excruciating disease (cancer of the brea-t), thus lived this mother of the first of men, preserving, 14: WOMEN OF WORTH. unchanged, her peculiar nobleness and independ- ence of character. She was always pious, but in her latter days her devotions were performed in private. She was in the habit of repairing every day to a secluded spot, formed by rocks and trees, near her dwelling, where, abstracted from the world and worldly things, she communed with her Creator, in humil- iation and prayer. After an absence of nearly seven years, it was at length, on the return of the combined armies from Yorktown, permitted to the mother again to see and embrace her illustrious son. So soon as he had dismounted, in the midst of a numerous and brilliant suite, he sent to apprise her of his arrival and to know when it would be her pleasure to receive him. And now mark the force of early education and habits, and the superiority of the Spartan over the Persian school, in this interview of the great Washington with his admirable parent and instructor. No pageantry of war proclaimed his coming, no trumpets sounded, no banners waved. Alone and on foot, the marshal of France, the general-in-chief of the combined armies of France and America, the deliverer of his country, the hero of the age, repaired to pay his humble duty to her whom he venerated as the author of his being, the founder of his fortune and his fame. For full well he knew that the matron would not be moved by all the pride that glory ever gave, nor by all the " pomp and circumstance" of power. MARY WASHINGTON. 15 The lady was alone, her aged hands employed in the works of domestic industry, when the good news was announced ; and it was further told that the victor chief was in waiting at the threshold. She welcomed him with a warm embrace, and by the well-remembered and endearing name of his childhood; iiKjniring as to his health, she remarked the lines which mighty cares and many trials had made on his manly countenance, spoke much of old times and old friends, but of his glory not one wordf Meantime, in the village of Frederieksburg, all was joy and revelry ; the town was crowded with the officers of the French and American armies, and with gentlemen from all the country around, who hastened to welcome the conquerors of Corn- wallis. The citizens made arrangements for a splendid ball, to which the mother of Washington was specially invited. She observed that, although her dancing days were pretty wdl over, she should feel happy in contributing to the general festivity, and consented to attend. The foreign officers were anxious to sec the mother of their chief. They had heard indistinct rumors respecting her remarkable life and charac- ter; but, forming their judgments from European examples, they were prepared *to expect in the mother that glare and show which would, have been attached to the parents of the great in the old world. How were they surprised when the matron, leaning on the arm of her son, entered the 16 WOMEN OF WOKTH. room! She was arrayed in the very plain, yet becoming garb worn by the Virginia lady of the olden time. Her address, always dignified and im- posing, was courteous, though reserved. She re- ceived the complimentary attentions', which were profusely paid her, without evincing the slightest elevation ; and, at an early hour, .wishing the com- pany much enjoyment of their pleasures, observing that it was time for old people to be at home, re- tired. The foreign officers were amazed to behold one whom so many causes contributed to elevate, pre- serving the even tenor of her life, while such a blaze of glory shone upon her name and offspring. The European world furnished no examples of such magnanimity. Names of ancient lore were heard to escape from their lips ; and they observed that, " if such were the matrons of America, it was not wonderful the sons were illustrious." It was on this festive occasion that General Washington danced a minuet with Mrs. Willis. It closed his dancing days. The minuet was much in vogue at that period, and was peculiarly calcu- lated for the display of the splendid figure of the chief, and his natural grace and elegance of air and manner. The gallant Frenchmen who were present, of which'fine people it may be said that dancipg forms one of the elements of their exist- ence, so much admired the American performance, as to admit that a Parisian education could not have improved it. As the evening advanced, the MARY WASIIIN,.: 17 commander-in-chicf, yielding to the gayety of the scene, went down some dozen couple in the contra- dance, with great spirit ami satisfaction. The Marquis do Lafayette repaired to Fred- erieksburg, previous to his departure for Europe, in the fall of 1784, to pay his parting respects to the mother, and to ask her blessing. Conducted by one of her grandsons, he approach- ed tin- hoii-. 1 . when the young gentleman observed, 'There, sir, is my grandmother." Lafayette be- held, working in the garden, elal in domestie-7iiade clothes, and her gray head covered in a plain straw hat, the mother of "his hero!" The lady saluted him kindly, observing: "Ah, marquis ! you see an old woman but come, I can make you welcome to my poor dwelling, without the parade of chang- ing my dress." The marquis spoke of the happy effects of the it ion, and the goodly prospect which opened upon independent America ; stated his t >upri-ed at what George has done, for he was always a very good bo\ In her person, Mrs. Washington was of the mid- i/.e, ami finely formed ; her features pleasing, yet strongly marked. It is not the happiness of 2 IB WOMEN OF WORTH. the writer to remember her, having only seen her with infant eyes. The sister of the chief he per- fectly well remembers. She was a most majestic woman, and so strikingly like the brother, that it was a matter of frolic to throw a cloak around her, and place a military hat upon her head ; and, such was the perfect resemblance, that, had she appear- ed on her brother's steed, battalions would have presented arms, and senates risen to do homage to the chief. In her latter days, the mother often spoke of her own good boy / of the merits of his early life ; of his love and dutifulness to herself; but of the deliverer of his country, the chief magistrate of the great republic, she never spoke. Call you this in- sensibility ? or want of ambition? Oh, no I her ambition had been gratified to overflowing. She had taught him to be good ; that he became great when the opportunity presented, was a consequence, not a cause. Mrs. Washington died at the age of eighty- seven, soon after the decease of her illustrious son. She was buried at Fredericksburg, and for many years her grave remained without a memorial- stone. But the heart of the nation acknowledged her worth, and the noble spirit of her native Vir- ginia was at length aroused to the sacred duty of perpetuating its respect for the merits of its most worthy daughter. On the seventh of May, 1833, at Fredericksburg, the corner-stone of her monu- ment was laid by Andrew Jackson, then the Presi- MAKY WASHINGTON. 19 dent of the United States. The public officers of the general government, and an immense con- course of people from every section of the country, crowd i-d to u itness the imposing ceremonies. Mr. IJanvtt. one of the monument committee of Vir- ginio, delivered the eulogy on Mrs. Washington, :ind then addressed the President of the United -;. In his reply, General Jackson paid a beau- tiful tribute to the memory of the deceased, which, for its masterly exposition of the effect of mater- nal example, and of the importance of female in- fluence, deserves to be preserved. We give a few sentences: " In tracing the recollections which can be gathered of her principles and conduct, it is im- possible to avoid the conviction, that these were iy interwoven with the destiny of her son. The great points of his character are before the world. He who runs may read them in his whole r, as a citizen, a soldier, a magistrate. He possessed an unerring judgment, if that term can be applied to human nature ; great probity of pur- pose, high moral principles, perfect self-possession, untiring application, an inquiring mind, seeking in- formation from every quarter, and arriving at its conclusion"; with a full knowledge of the subject; and he added to these an inflexibility of resolution, which nothing could change but a conviction of error. Look back at the life and conduct of his mother, and at her domestic government, and they will be found admirably adapted to form and de- 20 WOMEN OF WORTH. velop the elements of such a character. The power of greatness was there ; but had it not been guided and directed by maternal solicitude and judgment, its possessor, instead of presenting to the world examples of virtue, patriotism, and wisdom, which will be precious in all succeeding ages, might have added to the number of those master-spirits, whose fame rests upon the faculties they have abused, and the injuries they have committed. " How important to the females of our country, are these reminiscences of the early life of Wash- ington, and of the maternal care of her upon whom its future course depended! Principles less firm and just, an affection less regulated by discretion, might have changed the character of the son, and with it the destinies of the nation. "We have rea- son to be proud of the -virtue and intelligence of our women. As mothers and sisters, as wives and daughters, their duties are performed with exem- plary fidelity. They, no doubt, realize the great importance of the maternal character, and the pow- erful influence it must exert upon the American youth. Happy is it for them and our country, that they have before them this illustrious- example of maternal devotion, and this bright reward of filial success ! The mother of a family who lives to wit ness the virtues of her children, and their advance- ment in life, and who is known and honored because they are known and honored, should have no other wish, on this side the grave, to gratify. The seeds of virtue and vice are early sown, and we may MAUV WASHINGTON. 21 often anticipate the harvest that will be gathered. Changes, no doubt, occur, but let no one place his hope upon these. Impressions made in infancy, if not indelible, are effaced with difficulty, and renewed with facility ; and upon the mother, therefore, must frequently, if not generally, depend the fate of the BOD. "Fellow-citizens: at your request, and in your name, I now deposit this plate in the spot destined for it; and when the American pilgrim shall, in after ages, come up to this high and holy place, and lay his hand upon this sacred column, may he recall the virtues of her who sleeps beneath, and depart with his affections purified, and his piety strength- ened, while he invokes blessings upon the mother of Washington." This monument bears the simple but touching inscription, MARY, THE MOTIIEB OF WASHINGTON. 22 WOMEN OF WOKTH. THE TEUE WIFE, MARTHA WASHINGTON, WIFE of General George Washington, was born in the county of New Kent, Virginia, in May, 1732. Her maiden name was Martha Dandridge ; at the age of seventeen, she married Colonel Daniel Parke Custis, of the White House, county of New Kent, by whom she had four children ; a girl, who died in infancy; a son, named Daniel, whose early death is supposed to have hastened his father's ; Martha, who arrived at womanhood, and died in 1770 ; and John, who perished in the service of his country, at the siege of Yorktown, aged twenty-seven. Mrs. Custis was left a young and very wealthy widow, and managed the extensive landed and pecuniary concerns of the estate with surprising ability. In 1759, she was married to George Wash- ington, then a colonel in the colonial service, and soon after, they removed permanently to Mount Vernon, on the Potomac. Upon the election of her husband to the command-in-chief of the armies of his country, Mrs., or Lady Washington, as she was generally called, accompanied the general to MARTHA WASHINGTON. 23 the lines before Boston, and witnessed its siege and evacuation ; and was always constant in her attendance on her husband, when it was possible. After General Washington's election to the presi- dency of the United States, in 1787, Mrs. Washing- ton performed the duties belonging to the wife of a man in that high station, with great dignity and : and on the retirement of Washington, she still continued her unbounded hospitality. The de- cease cf her venerated husband, who died Decem- ber 14th, 1709, was the shock from which she never recovered, though she bore the heavy sor- row with the most exemplary resignation. She \v:i- kneeling at the foot of his bed when he cx- pired, and when she found he was gone, she said, in a calm voice: "'Tis well; all is now over; I shall soon follow him ; I have no more trials to pass through." Her children were all deceased her earthly treasures were withdrawn ; but she held firm her trust in the divine mercy which had ordered her lot. For more than half a century, she had been accustomed to passing an hour every morning alone in her chamber, engaged in reading the Bible and in prayer. She survived her hus- band a little over two years, dying at Mount Ver- non, aged seventy. In person Mrs. Washington was well-formed, though somewhat below the middle size. A por- trait taken previous to her marriage, shows that she must have been very handsome in her youth ; and she retained a comeliness of countenance, as 24r WOMEN OF WORTH. well as a dignified grace of manner, during life. In her home she was the presiding genius that kept ac- tion and order in perfect harmony ; a wife, in whom the heart of her husband could safely trust. The example of this illustrious couple ought to have a salutary influence on every American family ; the marriage union, as it subsisted between George and Martha Washington, is shown to be the hap- piest, as well as holiest, relation in which human beings can be united to each other. The delicacy of Mrs. Washington's nature, which led her, just before her decease, to destroy the letters that had passed between her husband and herself, proves the depth and purity of her love and reverence for him. She could not permit that the confidence they had shared together should become public; it would be desecrating their chaste loves, and, per- haps, some word or expression might be misinter- preted to his disadvantage. One only letter from Washington to his wife was found among his pa- pers ; the extracts we give from this letter indicate clearly the character of their correspondence. "PHILADELPHIA, June 18th, It 7 5. " MY DEAREST, I am now set down to write you on a subject which fills me with inexpressible concern; and this concern is greatly aggravated and increased, when I reflect upon the uneasiness I know it will give you. It has been determined in Congress, that the whole army raised for the de- fence of the American cause shall be put under my MARTHA WASHINGTON. 25 . and that it is necessary for me to proceed im- mediately to Boston, and take upon me the com- mand of it. " You may believe me, dear Patsy, when I assure you, in the most solemn manner, that, so far from s.-rkiiig this appointment, I have used every en- mr in my power to avoid it, not only from my unwillingness to part with you and the family, but from the consciousness of it being a trust too great fr my capacity, ami that I should enjoy more real happiness in one month with you at home, than I have the most distant prospect of finding abroad, if my stay were to be seven times seven years. But as it has been a kind of destiny that ha- thrown upon me this service, I shall hope that my undertaking it is designed to answer some good purpose. ***** " I shall rely, therefore, confidently on that Prov- idence, which has heretofore preserved and been bountiful to me, not doubting but that I shall re- turn safe to you in the fall. I shall feel no pain from the toil or the danger of the campaign; my unhappiness will flow from the uneasiness I know you will feel from being left alone. I therefore ;hat you will summon your whole fortitude, an- 1 pass your time as agreeably as you can. No- thing will give me so much sincere satisfaction as t hear this, and to hear it from your own pen." ***** He then goes on to say, that as life is always 26 WOMEN OF WORTH. uncertain, he had had his will drawn up, and in- closed the draft to her ; by this will he gave her the use and control of all his estates and property during her life-time, which will was observed at his decease. Such was the love the greatest man .the world ever saw cherished toward his wife; and she worthy of his love. What higher celebrity * could a woman desire? CHARLOTTE BBONTE. 27 THE WORTHY DAUGHTER, CHARLOTTE BRONTE. I.v the central region of Yorkshire, which, from its elevation, forms the rivershed of that portion of t Britiiin, where wold and moor, beck and force, deep scooped-out valleys, and tier after tier of high-rounded hills running up into mountains, I >r i- vail, was born, and lived, and died, Charlotte Bronte. The region is rough and unsightly no trees, no velvety soft verdure, no golden crops, no nestling hedges, consequently few birds to wake the echoes, save the lark and the more common of the freemen of the air a naked, cold, and barren trart, where, however, the treasures below the surface largely compensate for the absence of pic- tmvMjiie luauty above, and where, "as the soil is, so the heart of man," rough in the husk, rich in the core. Iron and coal, and lime and freestone, abound in these bold and hilly masses, and in the li-|ressed flats between them; but without, the soil is cold and peaty, its chief vegetation being coarse pasturage, sundry heaths and mosses, and other components of the moorland Flora, 28 WOMEN OF WORTH. In one of the least attractive spots of this dis- trict, hard by the rising manufacturing town of Keighley, stands the village of Haworth, rather high upon the moors, which, nevertheless, seem to stretch illimitably above and beyond it, till they border the sky. The village street runs straight up the hill, and can be seen for miles' distance. The cottages are all of that plain two-story, rough aspect, which is common in this part of Yorkshire and the corresponding section of Lancashire, built of the grit which abounds in the neighborhood, and which furnishes the stone dykes that demark the fields; those stony fences conveying the im- pression that, like the material of which they are built, they are more useful than ornamental. With the same material the steeply-ascending street is pitched, the edge of the stones projecting sharply to give footing to the tripping horses, the whole seeming the very coarsest contrivance of an imper- fect civilization, and in singular keeping with all around. The church stands at the top of the street, with nothing of architectural decoration to recommend it, and behind it, still nearer the bleak moor, at the further end of the churchyard, is the plain, primitive, two-storied parsonage, where the author of "Jane Eyre" spent her early days, and where, at the end of thirty-nine years, she render- ed up her breath to the Great Giver; a house gloomy in its position, gloomy in exterior aspect, and in all its conditions gloomy the only cheerful thing which the manse and the village can boast CHARLOTTE BRONTE. 29 being the fires which, summer and winter, the alum, lance of coal and tin- habits of the people bid sparkle in almost -\ery apartment. The parsonage looks out on a churchyard, paved throughout with tombstones, the singularly-ugly fancy predominat- ing here, as throughout the whole factory region, of hiding the verdure with flat stones, while head- stones would admit of the green sod growing over graves, and are every way more appropriate and pretty. But this uncouth and neglected look is in harmony with the appearance of every thing around: not poverty-struck, far from it, but a carelessness about arrangements which are not de- manded by the necessities of existence. And this is very characteristic of the manly and primitive population that abound in such districts, who in manner seem somewhat repulsive, from their frankness and independence of bearing, and in speech scarcely intelligible, from their broad provincialisms and abounding Saxon phraseology. A visitor must expect to be thee-and-thmt'd by them as sturdily as by any follower of George Fox, while thorpe and fared, and fond ww, and a thousand peculiarities more, sufficiently proclaim the native atlinities of their tongue. But they are faithful and affectionate, thoughtful and religious; old Tabby, the servant of the Brontes, who died umler their roof after a thirty years' residence, IK-MIL: :ni instance of the one, and the abounding of church and chapel, well supported and well attended, together with a deference for revealed 30 WOMEN OF WORTH. religion, being proof of the other. The contamina- tion which springs from crowded factories, high wages, and the impulsive life of competition, is kept very steadily in check, in the part of York- shire of which we speak, by the earnest and suc- cessful efforts at evangelization made by Christians of all persuasions, and no district of the country is full of more lively promise for the future, on the score of morality and religion. They have a shrewd and racy humor, too, these blunt and downright fellows, with an amazing fund of plain common sense. As a sample of their Yorkshire Doric, and, at the same time, a spice of their caustic jokes, we quote a paragraph from their classic annual, the "Pogmoor Olmenack," which will give a better idea of their style of thought and speech than an express dissertation. They call this screed of satire the "Dumestick Tutor." Long Division. T' cums in a baker's cake. Short Division. T' space atween a miser's purse an hiz heart. Cumpaand Addishan. An oud laidy at tacks snuff, an hez hur cloaze scented it bargan. Propoarshun. A womman lettin hur waist grow summut like natur intended it, an not squeaze it wal its na thicker then t' neck ov a champaine bottle. Exchainge. Two wimmin differin, and tellin wun anuther all they naw. Discaant. A milk seller tackin t' cream off, an CHARLOTTE BRONT^. 31 then warmin' t' oud milk up and sellin hiz cus- tomers it for new. Tn voices. A womman at tawks more indoor then aght. Profit an Loss. A man at swaps a good horse for a bad an, an gies summat ta booit. Promiscuous Examples. A man tackin hiz bairns to a plaice a warship nobbat when t' fit tacks him. Evolushans. A man goin raand abaght ta get into hiz nabor's affairs. Rnle-a-three, A lodgin-hause bed. Single Posishan. An oud meaid poor thing ! Book-keejtin. Borrain wun ov a friend, an niwer tackin him it back agean. Weight an Measure Ov Trubbles. A regular weight. Ov Sorrow. A full cup. Time Fast. A slander fresh slipt off an a womman's lie. Slaw A snail wauk wi' good deed on it back. The same dialect prevails in the language of the old woman whom Miss Bronte met on the moor, and who accosted her in a way which further illus- trates the natural frankness and independence of the natives of the West Riding. "How! Miss Bront6 ! Hey yah seen owt o* my cofe (calf) ?" M -- Bront<5 told her she could not say, for she did not know it, when the old woman proceeded to de- scribe it * " Wall ! yah knaw its gettin up like nah 32 WOMEN OF WORTH. between a cah (cow) an a cofe, what we call a stirk, yah know, Miss Bronte : will yah turn this way if yah happen to see't, as yah're going back, Miss Bronte ; nah do, Miss Bronte !" Amid such a people and such scenery was Char- lotte Bronte ordained to spend the greater part of her mortal life, her father, the Rev. Patrick Bronte, A.B., of St. John's College, Cambridge, having ob- tained the perpetual curacy of Haworth in the year 1820. Previous to this, while curate of another place in Yorkshire, he married his wife, a Cornish lady, who was possessed of an annuity of 50 a year, and on the slender means of both proceeded to set up house in 1812. After the birth of his six children, he received the small benefice of Haworth, and thither he transported his house- hold gods in the year before named a delicate wife, a swarm of little ones to be provided for, and scanty resources; an unusual plain dietary and almost total seclusion from society being the result. Just one year after their arrival in the place, Mrs. Bronte died, leaving her six motherless children the inheritance of a consumptive constitution and a morbid tendency, which was probably height- ened by the eccentric notions of their father on the itubject of early education. His wish was to make .them hardy, he himself having been reared amid d&e stern penury of an Irish peasant's home. Other eccentricities of his, which dictated an almost total seclusion of himself from the orphans, such as hav- ing his meals alone, a custom observed by him CHARLOTTE BRONxfe. 33 throughout life, were not favorable to the cheerful- ness of spirits, nor consequently to the good health of the little ones. About a year after their mother's death, a prim maiden aunt, their mother's sister, came to reside in the i:u ><>n;ige, and took charge of the helpless family. She was a rigid domestic disciplinarian, understanding how the work of a house should be done, and having it performed by her nieces and the servant, like so much clockwork. Every menial office in the establishment was exacted of the child- ren, not more as matter of necessity than of duty, and Charlotte continued to discharge them all until the year before her death, with the force of habit and the penchant of liking. Grates were scoured, furniture scrubbed, beds tossed, floors washed and swept, bread baked, and all sorts of plain cooking done by these little, quiet, heartbroken-looking children, who did every one of the same things daily alter they became celebrated women. To afford them, ln>\vever, advantages of education su- perior to those which home supplied, the two elder Msters of Charlotte were sent, in the year 1824, to a school for the daughters of the clergy, which had been opened shortly before at no great distance from I la worth. This is the school, the graphic description of which is one of the main features of k - .lane Kyrr." In the same year, at a later period, Charlotte, the third child, and Emily, her still younger si.Mer, were sent to the same school. The failing health of the whole party led to their re- 8 34: WOMEN OF WORTH. moval in the autumn of next year, during which (1825) Charlotte lost her two eldest sisters by consumption, and became by this dispensation the eldest of the survivors. The education of the family was now conducted in the most homely way in their aunt's bedroom, papa occasionally assisting with lessons in his study. Nevertheless, except that such volumes as were in the house were at their disposal, these remark- able children were to a great degree self-taught. Society they had none beyond the walls of their own home ; but their father was a man of books, and this, and their seclusion, probably furnished the strong impulse toward a creative literature which the surviving members of the family so early exhibited. When Charlotte had reached only her thirteenth year, she had, assisted in some small degree by younger members of the family, filled volume after volume of MS. with tales, romances, plays, and poems, indicative of the most extraor- dinary bent toward literature, and ease and variety in composition. Before she was sixteen, the fol- lowing verses fell from her pen : "THE WOUNDED STAG. " Passing amid the deepest shade Of the wood's sombre heart, Last night I saw a wounded deer Laid lonely and apart. CHARLOTTE BRONTE. 35 "Such light as pierced the crowded boughs (Light scatter'd, scant, and dim), Pass'd through the fern that formed his couch, And centred full on him. " Fain trembled in his weary limbs, Pain fill'd his patient eye, Pain-crush'd amid the shadowy fern His branchy crown did lie. 44 Where were his comrades ? Where his mat* t All from his death-bed gone ! And he, thus struck and desolate, Suffer' d and bled alone. " Did he feel what a man might feel, Friend-left and sore distrest? Did pain's keen dart and griefs sharp sting Strive in his mangled breast? " Did longing for affection lost Barb every deadly dart ? Love unrepaid, and faith betray'd, Did these torment his heart? " No I leave to man his proper doom I These are the pangs that rise Around the bed of state and gloom Where Adam's offspring dies !" These surely are not common verses, either in thought or style of expression, for any young person of her age, and are the more remarkable in her, the half of whose time was spent in tho kitchen, in companionship with as uncultivated a 36 WOMEN OF WOKTH. specimen of Yorkshire old-womanhood as York- shire could supply, the before-named Tabby. In the year 1831, Charlotte was sent to a private school, under more favorable auspices than her former venture. Her appearance was that of a very small girl, quaintly dressed, with large and plain features, and with such strange nearness of vision, that her ordinary expression was that of a person assiduously seeking something. She seemed a regular scarecrow to most of the young people around her, avoiding their society, never joining in their plays, and being not seldom the butt of their ridicule, as the old-fashioned daughter of a poor tory country clergyman, while they were the blooming daughters of wealthy dissenters. Buf, while she secured the esteem and regard of the proprietor of the school, she also made one or two fast friendships, which continued through life. In one year she left this school, and then devoted herself at home to the instruction and charge of her younger sisters, whom she tenderly loved, and carefully watched over. Their life was spent in the house or on the moor, never mustering cour- age enough to face the stare of the village street, except at some call of duty. Charlotte taught regularly in the Sunday school. Besides the extreme seclusion of their home, and the sensitive pride fostered by their father, both in a measure the result of narrow circumstances, but both aggravated by that eccentricity which in his children took the form of genius, the girls had CHARLOTTE BRONT^. 37 anxieties and sorrows arising from their brother, a youth of great talent and lively conversational powers, next in age to Charlotte. His tastes inclined him to adopt the profession of an artist ; and in order to furnish the means sufficient for his residence in London while studying in the Royal Academy, whither it was projected he should go, the family circle must be broken up, and Charlotte become a governess. She returned to her last school in that capacity on the smallest possible remuneration, and had one of her sisters with her as pupil in the establishment. Here her whole time was devoted to teaching, to anxieties about her sisters' health, who were both delicate, to her own personal troubles, which were not few, and were aggravated by the sensitiveness of her nature, and to painful solicitudes regarding home and her brother. Branwell had begun to exhibit a ten- dency toward vicious society and dissolute habits, which was, of all things, most repulsive to his pure-minded and self-denying sisters. The year in which Charlotte, under the influence of the most lofty motives, first left home to be a governess, her brother was only eighteen years of age, and yet even then his face was as familiar at the Black Bull Inn, at the head of the village, as at home. The good humor of the lad, his high spirits and rare conversational talent, made him an acceptable visitor within the bar of the Taurine hostel; and the habit of conviviality, which began in fun, ended, as it has often done before, in sad earnest. 38 WOMEN OF WORTH. From the hour in which he took to segars and the taproom he was a lost man, for he lacked that seven-fold shield of virtue which his sisters pos- sessed, in their indomitable feeling of pride or self- respect, which would descend from its sphere for the sake of no indulgence whatsoever, and, above all, that high sense of duty which made Charlotte's exertions through life a daily martyrdom, with her weak frame and her tremblingly susceptible soul, that rendered to her things which others cared not for, as if she " had been touched with hot iron." Pride and principle he lacked, and the conse- quences were to himself ruin, and to his family the unspeakable misery of many years. To help this ungrateful boy and reduce the family expenditure, after a short interval spent at home, poor Charlotte has to turn out again in search of a situation, home being peculiarly home to her, be- cause it gave her leisure for the cultivation of lite- rature, because, too, her person was so little at- tractive, her diffidence so painful, and her acquisi- tions, on the scale of accomplishments, so deficient, that she could only occupy a subordinate position among teachers. The immortal author of "Jane Eyre" never got above being a kind of nursery governess, with 16 a year, and endless tasks of sewing to do. Her experiences of governess- work were not of an agreeable kind. When twenty-two years of age she writes thus of her employer, and in no complaining mood, but simply describing the facts of the case : " She cares nothing about me, CHARLOTTE BRONTE. 39 except to contrive how the greatest possible quan- tity of labor may be got out of me; and to that end she overwhelms me with oceans of needle work ; yards of cambric to hem, muslin nightcaps to make, and, above :ill things, dolls to dress I aee more clearly than I have ever done before, that a private governess has no existence, is not con- ed as a living rational being, except as con- nected with the wearisome duties she has to fulfil." In conversation at a later period she said : " that none but those who had been in the position of a governess could ever realize the dark side of * re- >]('( -table 'human nature." If this be so, as this retiring woman, of no inordinate expectations, and the most modest pretensions, avers, God help our governesses, and speed their emancipation from the thraldom of the taskmasters of their own sex. Men have some conscience how they tyrannize over their servants, and in any case dread the vengeance of their over-goaded victim ; but female tyrants are alike destitute of shame and fear, in their treatment of their female subordinates. Some of Charlotte Bronte's employers appear to have been of this character. Poor girl ! well might she write to her from that situation : " I could like to be at home I could like to work in a mill I could like to feel some mental liberty." The roughest coun- try girl in a Yorkshire mill was not worked half so hanl, and dared not bo treated ill, while she re- 1 larger wages than this refined, shrinking, upright, and most gifted child of a reputable clergy- 40 WOMEN OF WORTH. man in the neighborhood. However, even govern- ess-ships end, and there is an exodus from the house of bondage of the most unbending female Pharaoh. Miss Bronte left this uncongenial family in 183*7, but not before the constant strain upon her strength and spirits had seriously affected her health. When this delicacy became apparent in palpitations and shortness of breath, it was treated as an affectation, and the summary prescription of her considerate mistress, who was reckoned agreeable in society, was a good scolding. Well might the emanci- pated girl enjoying the freedom of her home, write to a friend, describing their doing without a ser- vant : " Emily and I are sufficiently busy, as you may suppose ; I manage the ironing, and keep the rooms clean ; Emily does the baking, and attends to the kitchen. . . . Human feelings are queer things ; I am much happier blackleading the stoves, making the beds, and sweeping the floors at home, than I should be living like a fine lady anywhere else I intend to force myself to take another situation when I can get one, though I hate and abhor the very thoughts of governess- ship. But I must do it ; and therefore I heartily wish I could hear of a family where they need such a commodity." There spoke the brave, heroic soul which sustained this delicate, shy> home-loving wo- man through many a scene of painful endurance from which stouter natures have shrunk. But there was an alternation to governessing abroad, and that was teaching school at home. CHARLOTTE BRONT^. 41 But this required capital, and capital they had none. So Charlotte reverts of necessity, to seek- ing a situation again: "Verily, it is a delightful thing to live here at home, at full liberty to do ju>t what one pleases. But I recollect some aorubby oM t'alile about grasshoppers and ants, by a scrubby old knave yclept -t laid the churchyard mould over hi- shame, when he died in 1848, at the early ago of thirty misspent years. We shall not recur to 44: WOMEN OF WOKTH. this- subject again ; for far beyond poverty, or de- pendence, or natural disappointments, was this guilty relative a misery, a daily eyesore, a gnaw- ing heartache, to this struggling and high-souled family. For three weary years, the trial and the degradation growing worse and worse, did this great wrong continue. During all that time it only became more aggravated. At the close of 1845, Miss Bronte" writes to a friend : " No sufferings are so awful as those brought on by dissipation. Alas ! I see the truth of this daily proved It seems grievous, indeed, that those who have not sinned should suffer so largely." Again: "Bran- well declares that he neither can nor will do any- thing for himself; good situations have been offered him, for which, by a fortnight's work, he might have qualified himself; but he will do nothing ex- cept drink, and make us all wretched." In addition to this sorrow, her aged father had been becoming gradually blind from the access of cataract, and to read and write, and care for him, especially to comfort and cheer him, under this sore privation, became her leading concern. Her own health, too, ever delicate, was a source of constant suffering to her, and hei sisters were no less in- valids. Their old servant, Tabby, the unpolished but faithful domestic, was paralytic and almost help- less; for the girls would never consent that she should be dismissed, and nursed by others than themselves. The old creature, to the last, persisted in doing all those offices of kindness for the young mi WORTHY IIAI i.:i:i i: ii u::'i i " H.r tcW hi kr h*d torn b~-.-m.njc (n.1 mfy b ikl (Von I!M- -.- ..f ritunvt. mi-l I" rl, wr to. nj fcr Wm, MfMkl'y lo *f.r. w>J cj t..n. i..l. r iM. f pr:viu, bnuu. Ulw r -owra "-P... .41. CHARLOTTE BRONT^. 45 Indies in which she fancied she excelled, one special task in which she prided herself, being her skill in peeling potatoes for table. With a delicate sense of kindness, which Charlotte ever displayed after Tabby's eyes failed her, and she did most imper- fectly what she fancied she had accomplished in her best manner, her young mistress used to steal away the dish from beneath her purblind vision, complete the process, and replace them on the dresser, as though no amendment had been made of the old attendant's botch-work. Had Tabby been the grandmother of the family, she could not have received more touching attentions from these admirable women ; and when she died from their m'uNt at eighty years of age, and was buried by their care, they mourned as a loss what their affec- tionate kindness had made a voluntary burden of nursing and maintaining for years. The regard maintained for the worn-out domestic, after infir- mity had robbed her of her capacity of usefulness, speaks volumes for the merits of both parties, and, as much as thfir unusual endowments, endears the names of Charlotte, Emily, and Anne Bronte to posterity. \Ve write this sentence with no meas- ured feelings of admiration and respect. But even in this valley of tribulation all is not u*< mingled woe, and the desert itself is coated hero, and there with its oasis of verdure-. This melan- choly year, 1845, witnessed the- first venture in literature of the three girls under their now well- known pseudonyms of Curror (Charlotte), Ellis 46 WOMEN OF WORTH. (Emily), and Acton (Anne) Bell ; names so chosen as to leave the sex of the parties denominated in doubt. The volume of poems which they launched, while meeting with a sufficiently friendly recep- tion, gained little notoriety, and entailed consider- able loss on the writers. Coi'respondence about this small venture, and devotion to prose composition occupied the year 1846, during which our heroine completed the "Professor," a prose tale, and "Jane Eyre," and her sisters " Wuthering Heights," and " Agnes Grey." The "Professor" went the round of the publishers in London, and was universally rejected ; but " Jane Eyre," after frequent rejections (and the same fate befell her sisters' tales), was accepted, as well as theirs. How enthusiastic was its reception, and how fully public opinion indorsed the judg- ment of the publishers, it were an old tale to tell. Genius struggled against difficulties, and in this case at last met with its reward. While composing this extraordinary fiction, of which the largest por- tion is fact, Miss Bronte had to nurse her father, now seventy-one years of age, through an operation for cataract, and the long season of helplessness which preceded and followed it. But for the strong sense of filial duty which bound her to her father's side, amid these and other trials, again and again would Charlotte have sought another home, under more congenial auspices, her qualifications for tui- tion now entitling her to more adequate remunera- tion and more respectful treatment. Her induce- CHARLOTTE BRONT^. 47 ments to go wore strong, for her proficiency in French had hitherto been turned to no account, ami to let this and other qualifications lie idle pain- ed her; but she silenced every selfish consideration by the mandate of duty : " Whenever I consult my conscience, it affirms that I am doing right in stay- ing at home, and bitter arc its upbraiding* when I yield to an eager desire for release. I could hardly expect success if I were to err against such warn- ings." Her success was reserved for 1847, in the October of which year she received complete copies of " Jane Eyre " from her publishers, and startled and delighted the world by a style of composition so novel, so fresh, so natural, so simple, and yet so redolent of undoubted genius, that it forms an era in the history of fictitious literature. There is, it must be owned, something like ca- price in the taste and judgment of the reading pub- lic, and of those who cater for them, the publishers. In the joint volume of the poetry of the three sisters, Emily's verses were pronounced superior to Char- lotte's; and again, when they volunteered their three tiles together, hers was the only one returned in MS. But when she published her "Jane Eyre/' her popularity was immense and immediate, while the tales of her two -i-tcr^ made no Impression upon the public mind. Her distinguished success must have been a source of pure satisfaction to the timid author ; but it neither altered her habits, nor over- came her di-like and shyness of company, nor very materially affected the condition of her home. It 48 WOMEN OF WOETH. gave her two or three pleasant friendships and ac- quaintances, and it supplied her with an impulse to employ her pen; but otherwise effected scarcely any change in her views and pursuits. Home was still home, and its meanest cares imperative duties. The time of the author of " Jane Eyre " was mainly devoted to the offices of a housemaid and nurse, for the health of all the family required constant atten- tion, and her own weakness of sight enforced an almost total abstinence from the use of the pen. In the year 1848, the wretched brother was called away to his last account ; and, alas ! the threefold cord of the beloved sisterhood lost two of its strands ; for first Emily, and next Anne, was taken to a better home, leaving Charlotte, at the age of thirty-three, the only surviving child of the family. The pain rested with the survivor, for the death of these excellent persons was a Euthanasia, and they passed into the world of spirits with words of peace, resignation, and hope. The last expressions of Anne were, "Soon all will be well, through the merits of our Redeemer Take courage, Charlotte, take courage." Charlotte had a heavy time of it, but knew where to resort for present help in trouble : " I do not know how life will pass, but I do feel confidence in Him who has upheld me hitherto. Solitude may be cheered and made en- durable beyond what I can believe." Again, giving way to her sorrow, she Avrites : " My life is Avhat I expected it to be. Sometimes when I wake in the morning, and know that solitude, remembrance, CHARLOTTE BRONTE. 49 and longing arc to be almost my sole companions all day through ; that at night I shall go to bed with them ; that they will long keep me sleepless ; that next morning I shall awake to them again sometimes, Nell, I have a heavy heart of it. But crushed I am not yet, nor robbed of elasticity, nor of hope, nor quite of endeavor. I have some strength to fight the battle of life. I am aware, and can acknowledge, I liave many comforts, many mercies. Still, I caa get on. But I do hope and pray that never may you, nor any one I love, be placed as I am.'' Throughout 1849 she had the greater part of the house work to perform herself, being in the most delicate health, and to wait on her father and helpless old Tabby, who were both invalids. Well might the old crone say, two years afterward, to Mrs. Gaskell, im her homely Yorkshire way, rct'er- ring to Charlotte Bronte's care of her: "Eh! she's a good un she is /" After the publication of " Shirley," Miss Bront6 went t<> town, but lived in a stale of almost entire M-rlu-ion at her publishers'. She met the author of "Vanity Fair" by invitation, and says of him: "Thackeray is a Titan of mind. His presence and powers impress one deeply in an intellectual sense." Edinburgh recehred a flying visit from her in the ini-l^unimer of 1850, and of that gr:uidly->ited city she says: "Edinburgh, compared to London, U like a vivid page of history compare-! to a large 4 50 WOMEN OF WORTH. dull treatise on political economy ; and as to Mel- rose and Abbotsford, the very names possess music and magic." She was only two days in Scotland. In the same strain she writes to an English gentleman : " I always liked Scotland, as an idea ; but now, as a reality, I like it far better ; it furnished me with some hours as happy almost as any I ever spent. My dear sir, do not think I blaspheme, when I tell you that your great London, as com- pared to Dunedin, 'mine own romantic town,' is as prose compared to poetry, or as a great rumb- ling, rambling, heavy epic, compared to a lyric, brief, bright, clear, and vital as a flash of lightning. You have nothing like Scott's Monument; or, if you had that, and all the glories of architecture assembled together, you have nothing like Arthur's Seat ; and, above all, you have not the Scottish national character and it is that grand character, after all, which gives the land its true charm, its true greatness." The author of " Jane Eyre" read freely the best French writers of the day. Her expression of dis- gust at Balzac's novels is striking. " They leave such a bad taste in the mouth." To Madame Du- devant she is more indulgent: "Fantastic, fanati- cal, unpractical enthusiast as she often is far from truthful as are many of her views of life misled, as she is apt to be, by her feelings George Sand has a better nature than M. de Balzac; her brain is larger, her heart warmer than his." On one of CHARLOTTE BRONTi. 51 the works of the poet-laureate, she says ourselves * ing of the self-same volume that it is amongst our hid treasures : " I have read Tennyson's * In Memoriam,' or, rather, part of it; I closed the book when I got about half- way. It is beautiful it is mournful it is monotonous." We can un- ilt -r>tand tliis in the author- of "Jean Eyre," while our personal feeling toward that choicest volume of modern poetry is exactly the reverse. We find it hard to drag ourselves away from it, dip into it where we will. Of Dr. Arnold her judgment is mingled: "Dr. Arnold, it seems to me, was not quite saintly ; his greatness was cast in a mortal mould; he was a little severe, almost a little hard; he was vehe- ment, and somewhat repugnant After- ward come his good qualities: about the.se there is nothing dubious. Where can we find justice, firmness, independence, earnestness, sincerity, fuller and purer than in hint? ]l\it this is not all and I am glad of it. Besides high intellect and stainle-s rectitude, his letters and his life attot his posses- sion of the m.t true-hearted affection. Without this, however one might admire, we could not love him ; but with it, I think we love him much. A hundred such men fifty, nay, ten or five such righteous men, might save any country, might vic- toriously champion any ca\sc." Writing of Miss Martineau, during a visit to that lady at Amble-ide, Miss Bronte declares: "Of my kind hostess I cannot speak in terms too 52 WOMEN OF WORTH. high. Without being able to share all her opin- ions, philosophical, political, or religious ; without adopting her theories, I yet find a worth and greatness in herself, and a consistency, benevo- lence, perseverance in her practice, such as win the sincerest esteem and affection Slue seems to me the benefactress of Ambleside, yet takes no sort of credit to herself for her active and indefatigable philanthropy Her servants and her poor neighbors love as well as respect her." Of Ruskin her judgment is generous: "The * Stones of Venice ' seem nobly laid and chiselled. How grandly the quarry of vast marbles is dis- closed ! Mr. Ruskin seems to me one of the few genuine writers, as distinguished from book-makers, of this age He writes like a consecrated priest of the abstract and ideal." In 1851 Miss Bronte saw the Great Exhibition in Hyde Park, but with no great interest. " It is a marvellous, stirring, bewildering sight a mix- ture of a genii palace and a mighty bazaar ; but it is not much in my way." More in her way was it to hear D'Aubigne preach, and Thackeray lec- ture, and the terrible Rachel declaim. We are disposed to believe that, in her judgment of the French tragedienne, she unconsciously allowed her- self to be drawn into the error of identifying the actress with the parts she performed the very injustice which she herself complained of when Charlotte Bronte was pronounced to be Jane Eyre. CHARLOTTE BRONT^. 53 "Rachel's acting transfixed me with wonder, en- chained me with interest, and thrilled me with horror. It is MMIV<-]\ human nature that she shows you ; it is something wilder and worse the feelings and fury of a fiend. The great gift of genius she undoubtedly has; but I fear she rather abuses it than turns it to good account." Now, with all deference to Miss Bronte's judg- ment, the wrong lies not at the door of the actress who represents a Phtedra or Potiphar's wife with a startling resemblance to reality, but in that state of public morals which takes such a theme for a dramatic composition, and tolerates its exhibition on the stage. To the touching power of Kingsley's drama r>n St. Elizabeth, she bears testimony : " I have rend the ' Saint's Tragedy.' As a work of art, it s to me far superior to either 'Alton Lock* 'Yeast.' Faulty it may be, crude and unequal, yet there are portions where some of the deep chords of human nature are swept with a hand which is strong even while it falters Seldom do I cry over books; but here my eyes rained as I rr:i'l. When Kli/abeth turns IHT face to the wall, I stopped there needed no more." H'-r notion of the political characters of 1852 is amusing: "Disraeli was factious as leader of the Opposition ; Lord John Russell is going to be fac- tious, now that he has stepped into Disraeli's shoes. Lord Derby's 'Christian love and spirit is worth three-half-pence farthincr." 54: WOMEN OF WORTH. On Miss Kavanagh's "Women of Christianity," she passes the following just strictures : " She for- gets, or does not know, that Protestantism is a quieter creed than Romanism; as it does not clothe its priesthood in scarlet, so neither does it set up its good women for saints, canonize their names, and proclaim their good works. In the records of man their almsgiving will not, perhaps, be found registered ; but heaven has its account as well as earth." The happiness which our heroine had long looked for, by a release from an irksome solitude, at last made its appearance in a union with a Mr. Nicholls, who had for years been the observant witness of her virtues in his position of Mr. Bronte's curate. But her draught was brief; for nine months there- after, after protracted weakness and suffering, she laid down the load of life in the parsonage at Haworth, and departed to be forever with the Lord. No more satisfying testimony to the purity of her wedded bliss can be required, than that fur- jiished by her last unpremeditated words to her husband : " Oh, I am not going to die, am I ? He 3yj.ll not separate us, we have been so happy!" But, alas ! the sentence had gone forth, and, early in April, 1855, all that was earthly of Charlotte Nicholls, nee Bront6, was committed to the dust, and sleeps with the sleepers in Haworth Church, awaiting the resurrection of the just. The impression left upon our mind by the perusal of this fascinating history is one of unutterable sad- CHARLOTTE BRONTE. ness, arising from sympathy with the heroine, ami of the highest admiration of her stainless character and career. Kvcry tiling was against her through life plainness of person, poverty, a solitude and anritiiuauui of soul that no one could appreciate, and disappointment of almost every expectation ajid wi>h. Yet she nobly struggled on her watch- word DUTY, and her reliance Heaven. Such is the testimony of her life-long friend, who, in an extract given at the close of her memoir, writes thus: " She thought much of her duty, and had loftier and clearer notions of it than most people, and held to them with more success. It was done, it seems to me, with much more difficulty than peo- ple have of stronger nerves and better fortunes. All her life was but labor and pain ; and she never threw down the burden for the sake of piv>-nt pleasure." This is a true record, and justified by a thousand incidents in Miss Bronte's correspond- ence and history. We should be doing an injustice to the memory of this singularly-excellent person, did we not present, in connection with this sketch, a letter to a young friend written in 1846, which clearly exhibits her own principles of action : " I see you are in a dilemma, and one of a pecul- iar and difficult nature. Two paths lie before you; you conscientiously wish to choose the right one, oven though it be t'uu most steep, straight, and rugged. But you do not know which is the right one; you cannot decide whether duty and religion command you to go out into a cold and friendless 56 WOMEN OF WORTH. world, and there to earn your living by governess- drudgery, or whether they enjoin your continued stay with your aged mother, neglecting, for the present, every prospect of independency for your- self, and putting up with daily inconvenience, some- times even with privations. I can well imagine that it is next to impossible for you to decide for yourself in this matter ; so I will decide it for you; at least I will tell you what is my earnest convic- tion on the subject I will show you candidly how the question strikes me. The right path is that which necessitates the greatest sacrifice of self- interest, which implies the greatest good to others ; and this path, steadily followed, will lead, I believe, in time, to prosperity and happiness, though it may seem at the outset to tend quite in a contrary direction. Your mother is both old and infirm; old and infirm people have but few sources of hap- piness, fewer, almost, than the comparatively young and healthy can conceive : to deprive them of one of these is cruel. If your mother is more composed when you are with her, stay with her. If she would be unhappy, in case you left her, stay with her. It will not apparently, as far as shortsighted humanity can see, be for your advantage to remain .at =-, nor will you be praised and admired for remaining at hpnae to comfort your mother; yet probably your .pwn conscience will approve, and, if it does, stay with her. I recommend you to do what I am trying to do myself," The pure soul of the writer ; of ; this letter contended successfully CHAKLOTTK BBONTE. 57 through her whole life against selfish instincts and unfriendly circumstances, as the broad river of Egypt, in its beneficent march to the sea, has re- 1, from age to age, the sandy incursions of the desert ; and, beneficent as the fertilizing Nile, none approached Charlotte Bronte whom she did not SS WOMEN OF WORTH. THE NEWGATE SCHOOLMISTKESS. ELIZABETH FRY. MBS. ELIZABETH FRY was the third daughter of the late John Gurney, of Earlham Hall, near Nor- wich. Her childhood was characterized by strong affection and great mental vivacity. She early evinced an angelic disposition to alleviate the cares and soothe the sorrows of all those around her who needed sympathy and aid. As she increased in years, her inclinaticn and powers of doing good extended and strengthened, the youthful stirrings of benevolence gradually became principles of phi- lanthropy, and the kind and spontaneous actions of her juvenile years were performed in her opening womanhood from a sense of Christian duty. She took especial pleasure in organizing and superin- tending a school upon her father's premises for the indigent children of Earlham and the surrounding parishes, and the effect which her mild authority and judicious instructions produced upon these hitherto-neglected little ones, was a powerful illus- tration of the potency of gentle means, when em- ployed to guide the young in the path of learning, KI.I/.A1S1-.TII I-UV. 59 or to raihed life, awaited this interesting young person," says the writer of her obituary, in the " Friends' Annual Monitor." She was affected by a disease which assumed a serious character, and she thus became awakened to a true sense of the instability of human life and the vanity of those inferior pleasures which have not their source in the higher principles of our nature, but depart with our capa- bilities of enjoying them. Soon after her illness she was powerfully awakened to a knowledge of her relation to God, and of her relation to mankind iu their character of brethren in Christ, through the mini-try of an American friend, the late Wil- liam Savery. She forsook the pleasures which had hitherto divided her mind and time, and in the bosom of her family cultivated those social and endearing qualities which render home a temple of the affections make woman a priestess of love, and elevate the hearth into an altar of peace and 60 WOMEN OF WORTH. unity. She became the joy and comfort of her widowed father and of her ten brothers and sisters; and in her own family she schooled her heart to that abandonment of self, and anxiety for the good of others, which inspired her with a Christian philanthropy scarcely paralleled, and a courage which was superior to obstruction, danger, or im- moral obduracy, and rendered her an invincible conqueror in her crusade against vice in its most hardened and appalling forms. In the year 1 800, when she was twenty years of age, Miss Gurney became the wife of Mr. Joseph Fry, a banker in London, and settled in a house connected with her husband's business, in the very heart of the Great Babylon. It may easily be sup- posed that, in the metropolis, objects and scenes of especial interest would frequently be presented to this benevolent lady, and that her active philan- thropy and holy aspirations for human weal would not be blunted in consequence of her new relations as a beloved wife and tender mother. The poor found in her an untiring benefactress and a willing friend. She visited their lowly homes, and, if she found them worthy, their wants were effectually relieved. Shortly after her marriage, Mrs. Fry became im- pressed with the opinion " that it would be requir- ed of her to bear public testimony to the efficacy of that divine grace by which she had been brought to partake of the joy's of God's salvation;" and when she had reached the thirtieth year of her ELIZABETH IKY. 61 age, she began to speak in the religious meetings of the Friends. Her exhortations were marked by peculiar humility and much persuasive sweetness of manner, and she w r as early engaged with the unity of the monthly meeting to which she belong- ed, in paying religious visits to Friends and others of various denominations. And now we have ar- rived at the most remarkable era of her life at that period which begins the history of her glorious career of reformation, when, strong in faith and charity, she entered the receptacles of the outcast and impious, and bore to the hearts of the demor- alized criminals human sympathy and heavenly hope. Newgate, that grave of pollution, whose name we were taught to associate with all that was dark and fearful, was visited about 1812 by Mrs. Fry, who was induced to inspect it by repre- sentations of its condition made by some members of the Society of Friends. The prison had been constructed to hold about four hundred and eighty prisoners, but eight hundred, and even twelve hun- divd, had been immured within its walls. Mrs. Fry found the female side in a most deplorable and indescribable condition. Xearly three hun- dred women, sent there for every species and iation of crime some untried, and therefore presumably innocent others under sentence of death were promiscuously huddled together in the two wards and two rells which were afterward appropriated to the untried, whose numbers were even inconveniently large for the limited space 62 WOMEN OF WORTH. Here the criminals saw their friends and kept their multitude of children, and here they also cooked, washed, took their victuals, and slept. They lay down on the floor, sometimes to the number of one hundred and twenty in one ward, without even a mat for bedding, and many of them very miserably clad. They openly drank ardent spirits, and their horrible imprecations broke upon the ears of this pure-minded and noble lady, mingled with offensive and disgusting epithets. Every thing was filthy and redolent of disgusting effluvia. No prison functionary liked to visit them, and the governor persuaded Mrs. Fry to leave her watch in his office, assuring her that his presence would not prevent its being torn from her ; and as if to illustrate the frightful extent to which vice and wretchedness can sink our nature and deaden our feelings, two women were seen in the act of strip- ping a dead child for the purpose of clothing a living one. It must be recollected that this is no exaggerated picture of that den of pollution, New- gate, in those days. Mrs. Fry's own simple, yet powerful testimony is before us, and she thus ex- presses herself: "All I tell thee is a faint picture of the reality ; the filth, the closeness of the rooms, the ferocious manners and expressions of the women toward each other, and the abandoned wickedness which every thing bespoke, are quite indescri- bable." We do not know which quality most to admire in this magnanimous woman the exalted sympathy which recognized in these outcasts a 1 I IXABETII FRY. 63 common humanity, or the heroic courage which supported her in her ministrations of love and mercy. She clothed many of the children and some of the women, and read passages of the Bible to them in such soft and silvery tones, that latent feeling awoke in their bosoms, and the big tear started into many an eye. She left that prison with a strong conviction that much might be done; but circumstances intervened for three years to render efforts on her part inoperative. About Christmas, 1816, she resumed her visits, and found that much improvement had been made by the jail committee; especially the females had additional accommodation conceded to them ; they were provided with mats, and gratings had been erected to prevent close communication between the criminals and their visitors. Still, the chief evil remained i m remedied all the women were playing curds reading improper books, begging, or fight- ing for the division of the money thus acquire.! ; and a fortune-teller was imposing upon the credu- lous and ignorant prisoners with her absurd divi- nations. There were continual complaints of want of employment, and declarations that profitless idleness had only been substituted for active vice. Mrs. Fry's first undertaking was the education of about seventy children, who, in this abode of ini- quity, were wandering about unheeded, which was no sooner proposed, than the most abandoned mothers thanked her with tears in t lieir eyes for her benevolent intentions, and young women 64: WOMEN OF WORTH. crowded round her, and prayed in pathetic eager- ness to be admitted to her projected school. Application was now made to the governor of Newgate, sheriffs of London, and the reverend prison ordinary. These gentlemen cordially ap- proved of her intentions, but they intimated " their persuasion that her efforts would be utterly fruit- less" So little zeal did they manifest in further- ance of this scheme of piety, that an official intima- tion informed Mrs. Fry that there was no vacant place in the prison fit for school purposes. But she was not disheartened ; she mildly requested to be admitted once more alone among the women, that she might investigate for herself. She soon discovered an empty cell, and the school was opened the very next day. Mrs. Fry was accom- panied by a young lady, who had visited New- gate for the first time, and who had generously enlisted under the banner of philanthropy, to as- sist in the work of reclamation so gloriously begun by her exalted friend. When they entered the prison school, the railing was crowded by women, many of whom were only half-clothed, struggling for front situations, and vociferating most violently. The young lady felt as if she had entered a den of wild beasts ; and when the door closed and Avas locked upon her, she shuddered at the idea of being immured with such a host of desperate companions. The first day's work, however, surpassed the ut- most expectations of Mrs. Fry, and the only pain she experienced was that of refusing numerous ELIZABETH FRY. (55 pressing applications from young women, who prayed to be taught and employed. The assurances and zeal of these poor forlorn creatures, induced Mrs. Fry and her companion to project a school where the tried women should be taught to read and work. When this idea was first expressed to the friends of the projectors, it was declared to be visionary and impracticable. They were told that the work introduced would be stolen; that women so long habituated to crime and idleness were the nio-t irreelaim:il)le of the vicious; that novelty might, for a time, induce apparent attention and a temporary observance of rule, but that the change would not be lasting. In short, failure was predict- it h ahn -t oracular confidence. Nothing could induce the ladies, however to abandon their forlorn and almost unsupported enterprise: from earth they turned their eyes to heaven, and when men forsook them, they asked aid of (lod ami took They declared if a committee could lie 1 who would share the labor, and a matron who would engage to live in the prison niirlit and day, they would undertake the experiment that is they would jiml employment for the women; would procure funds for the prosecution : the wife of a \ man and eleven members of the Society of 66 WOMEN OF WORTH. Friends declared their willingness to suspend every other engagement and calling, and to devote them- selves to this good work, and faithfully they did their self-imposed duty. They almost entirely lived amongst the prisoners ; not a day or hour passed but some of them were to be found at their posts, sharing the employments and meals of their prote- gees, or abstemiously instructing their pupils, from morning till long after the close of day. Yet ah their toils, and the progress of those for whose ad- vantage they labored, were insufficient to eradicate the skepticism of some who viewed their exertions. The reverend ordinary admired their intrepid devo- tion; but he assured Mrs. Fry that her designs would inevitably fail. The governor cheered her with words of sympathy, but those who possessed his confidence were accustomed to hear him de- clare " that he could not see the possibility of her success." But that charity which "hopeth ah 1 things, and believeth all things " was strong within her ; she looked to the goal, and not to the impedi- ments in her path ; she looked beyond the means to the consummation ; she was wiling souls from the meshes and snares of sin, and she sought under God to lead her erring sisters into the fold of grace. She presented herself to the sheriffs and governor, and nearly one hundred women were brought before them, who solemnly engaged to yield the strictest obedience to all the regulations of their heroic benefactress. A set of rules was accordingly promulgated, and the vices which the KM2ABKTH FRY. 07 prisoners had formerly fostered were discarded and disclaimed. After a month's private exertion, the corporation of London was invited to behold the effects of these noble women's labors. The lord mayor, sheriffs, and several aldermen attended. The prisoners were assembled, and, in accordance, with the usual practice, one of the ladies re.nl a chapter in the Bible, when the prisoners proceeded to their various employments. What a change was here to the accustomed tumult, filth, and li- centiousness of former days ! Their attention to the reading of the Scriptures ; their modest deport- ment, obedience, and respectful demeanor; and the cheerfulness visible on their faces, conspired to excite the wonder and admiration of all who beheld them. They were no longer a herd of irre- claimable creatures, whose sympathies with the world were destroyed, and for whom the world had no longer any sympathy. Kindness h:id awakened reciprocal sentiments in their breasts, and mankind ! no longer deny the possibility of their ivda- nvitiori to the ranks of humanity. The prison hid c.-;-.-d to be- a nursery of crime ; its cells no r resounded with the laugh of women dead to hope aii'l shame; the bitter imprecation and the SCOff of hardened hearts lri-1 died away ; and |" cleanliness, and order, reigned under the influence of those true -inters of charity Mrs. IYy and her assistants. The magistrates, to mark their appre- ciation of this system, incorporated it with the Newgate Code of regulations. They empowered 68 WOMEN OF WOKTII. the ladies to punish the refractory by temporary confinement, undertook to defray part of the ma- tron's sustentation, and loaded the ladies with thanks and blessings. A year passed away, and still the little band of philanthropists was cheered by progression ; infi- delity fell before indubitable truth ; and success, confirmed by so long a trial, at last forced convic- tion on those who had doubted and predicted failure, and all who beheld the vast change which had been effected, expressed their satisfaction- and astonishment at the great improvement which had taken place in the conduct of the females. Mrs. Fry did not confine herself to the amelioration of prisons exclusively ; she visited lunatic asylums with the same high ard holy purpose. It was her habit, when she did so, to sit down quietly amongst her afflicted fellow-mortals, and, amidst the greatest turbulence, begin to read in her sweetest tones some portion of the Bible. Gradually the noise around her would cease, eager ears would be bent to drink the music of her voice, and at last atten- tion and silence would reign around her. On one occasion, a yoitng man was observed to listen atten- tively, although ordinarily one of the most turbu- lent and violent of the patients. He became sub- dued even to tears. When Mrs. Fry ceased read- ing, the poor maniac exclaimed to her : " Hush, the angels hare lent you their voices /" Fancy and reason combined could not have offered a more beautiful compliment to goodness and benignity. ELIZABETH FST. 69 It was Mrs. Fry's regular practice to attend at Newgate on a particular morning of the week to read the Scriptures to the prisoners. The prison was open to any visitors whom she chose to ad- mit, and her readings were attended both by our own countrymen :uid foreigners, among whom were many of rank and power. These were most affect- ing reunions, both to those who came as visitors, and they who claimed especially these services. Mrs. Fry's attention \\ as not wholly absorbed by Newgate. The female prisoners in other parts of the city were ministered to by her. In the prose- cution of her plans of reformation, she was gener- ously supported by the city authorities, and suc- \e secretaries of state seconded her benevolent views. The British Ladies' Society for the refor- mation of female prisoners owes its origin to her exertions ; and a similar system of reform, by means of associated committees, was begun in many prisons in Great Britain and Ireland. Mrs. Fry's indefatigable zeal for good, induced her to press her views upon the governments and monarcliR of the continental nations ; and she and every lover of humanity had the inestimable satis- faction of seeing her plans adopted in France, Hol- land, Denmark, Russia, Switzerland, Prussia, sev- eral of the minor German States, and in Philadel- phia, and other parts of the United States of America. Mrs. Fry materially promoted her ob- jects by the publication of a pamphlet, in which she promulgated her views on the species of prison 70 WOMEN OF WORTH. discipline necessary for females, and of the only sound principles of punishment. Death punish- ments, in her estimation, were completely ineffica- cious in stopping the progress of crime, and she disapproved of them also upon loftier grounds than that of expediency; she did not condemn the Draco- like proceedings of our judiciary from maudlin theory. She often visited the cells of condemned criminals on the day or night before their execu- tion ; she saw the agony of soul endured by some, the insolent bravado manifested by others, and she observed that death punishment generally produced an obduracy in its victims, which reacted on their criminal observers, or those who came to gaze on the last scene of all. Mrs. Fry and her associates had voluntarily conceded to them by government the care and superintendence of convict-ships for females about to be transported to New South Wales ; and so important Avere their improvements, and judicious their regulations in this department, that the colonial authorities frequently transmitted them their grateful acknowledgments. All the poor convicts were supplied with several articles necessary for their comfort, and each was carefully provided with a copy of the Holy Scriptures. Mrs. Fry's name is principally connected with her prison labors ; but her humanity was boundless. She had sympathy for every species of distress, and a hand to aid in every object of human ameliora- tion. By her influence the influence of humble piety and active virtue she stimulated many indi- ELIZABETH FRY. 71 viduals ] lowering the power, to institute district societies for tin- effectual relief of the destitute and the houseless, and also for the educating of those neglected children whose only tuition had pre- viously been that of crime. She chiefly a^isted in the formation of libraries for the use of the coast- guard, in all their stations around the British isles. In 18 is, Mrs. Fry visited Scotland in company with her brother Joseph John Gurney, and her sister-in-law, Eli/abet h Fry; and in ls-_'7, >he vi-ilt-d Irelainl. Still the same benevolent spirit guided her. It may be eniphatieally said that she " went about doing good." In foreign lands, or in her own country, she meekly vet fearlessly inter- 1 for the persecuted aint op| ivssrd, and to her is attributable much of that enlargement of the liberty of conscience, and the softening of the rigors of prison discipline, which has taken place in Eu rope of late years. The king of Prussia courted the friendship of this great and good woman; and in 1H4-J, when on a \i-it to (M-.-at Britain with his queen and family, lie visited her at Upton. By his particular request she met him at the Man>ion-house, between the hours of public worship on Sunday, 30th January, and they passed two hours in conversation together, at the close of which the king expressed a strong desire to meet her in Newgate, at her reading next day. She met him in company with her brother and sister, and the wife of the mayor, Lady Pine. The king was attended by several noblemen, foreign 72 WOilEN OF WORTH. and English. He led Mrs. Fry through the pas- sages and apartments of the prison, until they reached the seats placed for them at the extremity of a line of tables, at which the prisoners, attentive and serious, were arranged. A solemn silence en- sued. Mrs. Fry then read the 12th chapter of Romans, and a psalm. Stillness again reigned for a short space, and then she addressed all present, adverting to the perfect equality of all men in the sight of God, declaring that if, through the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, we are brought to be- come his disciples, we are made one in him, even from the lowest and most degraded of the poor prisoners before her to the sovereign at her side. Mrs. Fry then knelt in prayer, the king kneeling down beside her, and in an extemporaneous effu- sion of great fervor and sweetness, she prayed in behalf of the prisoners, and also for his maiesty's sanctification through the Holy Spirit. This solemn and affecting service being concluded, the king ac- companied Mrs. Fry to her own residence. In the summer of 1843, Mrs. Fry visited Paris for the last time, and concerted with several benev- olent friends for the prosecution of works of goodness and charity. After her return home she became seriously indisposed, and the symptoms were such as to alarm her friends and family ; yet she bore her trouble with Christian resignation, and recognized in all her pains the hand of God. As the spring of 1844 advanced, her health was so far restored as to permit her to ride out occasion- ELIZABKTII FRY. 73 ally, ami in the summer she joined her friends in public worship. On this occasion she was accom- 1 by several members of her family, and her son, William Storrs Fry, sat beside her and ten- derly watched his feeble parent. Alas for the un- certainty of life and strength! He, with two of hi< children, were shortly afterward removed from tin- family circle, and hi* afflicted parent saw him pass away before her. She again attended the religious meeting of Friends at Plaistow, on the l."th of October, and addressed those assembled with great clearness and power. She gradually regained strength, and was enabled once more to resume her ministry of love. Near the close of the summer of 1845, she went with her husband to Uanisgate, an earnest hope being entertained that change of air and scene would benefit her. She attended a little meeting at Drapers, and repeated- ly engaged in religious service among the few Friends tin-re. She distributed a great many Bibles; and a ship crowded with (Jerman emi- grants, bound for Texas, was provided with one for each of the passengers. A : > i i\ s before her death she applied to the committee of the British and Foreign Bible Society ruing the purchase of a supply of copies of the Scriptures. The committee, through their tary, informed her that she should receive them grati-, and that they felt it a privilege to cir- culate them through her ministrations. They also sent her, as a token of esteem, a copy of their first 74 WOMEN OF WORTH. translation of one of the gospels in the Chinese language. She was engaged in projects aifecting the weal of mankind to the very hour in which she was seized with her fatal illness. On the evening of Saturday, the llth of October, 1845, slight symptoms of paralysis were apparent. Early next morning, when very ill, she alluded to the conflict which nature then endured, adding, "J2ut I am safe" In a short time after she uttered a short prayer to God, and after this all consciousness appeared to forsake her. About four o'clock on the morning of the 12th, her pure spirit left its frail tenement of clay and ascended to Him who gave it. The history of Mrs. Fry can hardly be said to end with her death. The deeds men do often die with them ; not so with hers. Her spirit of active benevolence has been transmitted to many, and the works she promoted are carried on by others who have been impelled to engage in them by her ex- ample. We cannot leave our subject without assuring our readers that this eminently good woman was supported in her manifold labors by a constant faith in Christ, and an assurance of divine aid. May the humblest in life's lowly course be similarly strengthened, and, according to their means, may they profit by her example of love and charity ! In closing this memoir, for the materials of which we have been mainly indebted to an emi- nent philanthropist and friend of Mrs. Fry, we ex- tract the foUowing truthful and beautiful tribute ELIZABETH FRY. 75 to her worth, written in 1816, by Francis Jeffrey: " \Ve cannot ttn'y the happiness which Mrs. Fry mu-t enjoy from the consciousness of her own lievements, but there is no happiness or honor of which we should be so proud to be par- takers ; anl we seem to relieve our own hearts of their share of national gratitude in thus placing on her simple and modest brow that truly civic crown, which far outshines the laurels of conquest or the coronals of power, and can only be outshone itself by those wreaths of imperishable glory which awaits the champions of faith and charity in a higher state of existence." 76 WOMEN OF WOKTH. THE JAIL MISSIONARY. SARAH MARTIN, WHO has won for herself the fame most desirable for a woman, that of Christian benevolence, a fame indeed unsurpassed in the annals of her sex, was born in 1791. Her father was a poor mechanic in Caister, a village three miles from Yarmouth. Sarah was the only child of her parents, who both died when she was very young : she had then to depend on her grandmother, a poor old widow, whose name was Bonnett, and who deserves to have it recorded for the kind care she took of her grand-daughter. Sarah Martin's education was merely such as the village school afforded. At the age of fourteen she passed a year in learning the business of dress- making ; and then gained her livelihood by going out and working at her trade by the day, among the families of the village. In the town of Yar- mouth was the county prison, where criminals were confined: their condition was at that period most lamentable. Their time was given to gaming, swearing, play- SARAH MARTIN. 77 ing, fighting, and bad language ; and their visitors admitted from without with little restriction. Tin-re was no divine worship in the jail on Sun- . nor any respect paid to that holy day. There were underground cells (these continued even down to 183G), quite dark, and deficient in proper ventilation. The prisoners described their heat in summer as almost suffocating, but they preferred them for their warmth in winter; their situation was such as to defy inspection, and they altogether unfit for the confinement of any human being. No person in Yarmouth took thought for these poor, miserable prisoners; no human eye looked with pity on their dreadful condition; and had their reformation been proposed, it would, no doubt, have been scouted as an impossibility. In August, 1819, a woman was committed to the jail for a most unnatural crime. She was a mother who had "forgotten her sucking child." She had not u had compassion upon the son of her womb," lut had cruelly beaten and ill-used it. The '.deration of her offence was calculated to pro- duce a ^nat effect upon a female mind; and there was one person in the neighborhood of Yarmouth who was deeply moved by it. Sarah Martin was a little woman, of gentle, it, of her guilt, and of her need of God's mercy, she burst into tears and thanked me!" Her reception at once proved the necessity for such a missionary, and her own personal fitness for the task; and her visit was repeated again and again, during such short intervals of leisure as she could spare from her daily labors. At first she contented herself \\itli merely reading to the pris- oners; but familiarity with their wants and with her own powers soon enlarged the sphere of her tuition, and she began to instruct them in readinu and writing. This extension of her labor inter fered with her ordinary occupations. It became necessary to sacrifice a portion of her time, and consequently of her means, to these new duti<-<. She did not hesitate. "I thought it right," she "to give up a day in the week from <1 making to serve the prisoners. This regularly given, with many an additional one, was not felt 80 WOMEN OF WORTH. as a pecuniary loss, but was ever followed with abundant satisfaction, for the blessing of God was upon me." In the year 1826, Sarah Martin's grandmother died, and she -came into possession of an annual income of ten or twelve pounds, derived from the investment of "between two and three hundred pounds." She then removed from Caister to Yar- mouth, where she occupied two rooms in a house situated in a row in an obscure part of the town ; and, from that time devoted herself with increased energy to her philanthropic labors. A benevolent lady, resident in Yarmouth, had, for some years, with a view to securing her a little rest for her health's sake, given her one day in a week, by com- pensating her for that day hi the same way as if she had been engaged in dressmaking. With that assistance, and with a few quarterly subscriptions, " chiefly 25. Qd. each, for Bibles, Testaments, tracts, and other books for distribution," she went on de- voting every available moment of her life to her great purpose. But dress-making, like other pro- fessions, is a jealous mistress ; customers fell off, and, eventually, almost entirely disappeared. A ^question of anxious moment now presented itself, the determination of which is one of the most characteristic and memorable incidents of her life. Was she to pursue her benevolent labors, even although they led to utter poverty? ' Her little income was not more than enough to pay her lodging, and the expenses consequent upon the SARAH MAKTIX. 81 exercise of her charitable functions: and was ac- tual destitution of ordinary necessaries to be sub- mitted to? She never doubted; but her reasoning upon the subject presents so clear an illustration of the exalted character of her thoughts and pur- poses, and exhibits so eminent an example of Christian dcvotedness and heroism, that it would be an injustice to her memory not to quote it in her own words: "In the full occupation of dress- making, I had care with it, and anxiety for the future; but as that disappeared, care fled also. God, who had called me into the vineyard, had said, * Whatsoever is right I will give you.' I had Iramed from the Scriptures of truth that I should be supported ; God was my master, and would not forsake His servant ; He was my father, and could not forget his child. I knew also that it some- times seemed good in His sight to try the faith and patience of His servants, by bestowing upon them very limited means of support; as in the case of Naomi and Ruth ; of the widow of Zare- phath and Elijah ; and my mind, in the contempla- tion of such trials, seemed exalted by more than human energy; for I had counted the cost, and my mind was made up. If, whilst imparting truth to others, I became exposed to temporal want, the privation so momentary to an individual would not admit of comparison with following the Lord, in thus administering to others." 1 UT next object was to secure the observance of C 82 WOMEN OF WORTH. Sunday ; and, after long urging and recommenda- tion, she prevailed upon the prisoners " to form a Sunday service, by one reading to the rest ; . . . . but aware," she continues, " of the instability of a practice in itself good, without any corresponding principle of preservation, and thinking that my presence might exert a beneficial tendency, I joined their Sunday-morning worship as a regular hearer." After three years' perseverance in this " happy and quiet course," she made her next advance, which was to introduce employment, first for the women prisoners, and afterward for the men. In 1823, "one gentleman," she says, "presented me with ten shillings, and another, in the same week, with a pound, for prison charity. It then occurred to me that it would be well to expend it in material for baby-clothes ; and having borrowed patterns, cut out the articles, fixed prices of payment for making them, and ascertained the cost of a set, that they might be disposed of at a certain price, the plan was carried into effect. The prisoners also made shirts, coats, etc By means of this plan, many young women who were not able to sew, learned this art, and, in satisfactory instances, had a little money to take at the end of the term of imprisonment The fund of one pound ten shillings for this purpose, as a foundation and perpetual stock (for whilst desiring its preserva- tion, I did not require its increase), soon rose to seven guineas, and since its establishment, above SARAH MARTIN. 83 four hundred and eight pounds' worth of various nrticle.s have been sold for charity." The mm were thus employ elayer presented a pointed and striking lesson, whieh could well be applied to any kind of gaming, and was, on this account, suitable to my pupils, who had generally descended from the love of marbles and pitch-half-penny in children, to ; c., in men. The business of copy- inir it had the advantage of requiring all thought and at trntion at the time. The attention of other prisoners was attracted to it, and for a y. ar or two afterward many continued to copy it." After another interval she proceeded to the for- mation of a fund whieh she applied to the furnish- ing of work for prisoners upon their discharge; 84: WOMEN OF WORTH. "affording me," she adds, "the advantage of ob- serving their conduct at the same time." She had thus, in the course of a few years during which her mind had gradually expanded to the requirements of the subject before her pro- vided for all the most important objects of prison discipline: moral and intellectual tuition, occupa- tion during imprisonment, and employment after discharge. Whilst great and good men, unknown to her, were inquiring and disputing as to the way and the order in which these very results were to be attained inquiries and disputes which have not yet come to an end here was a poor woman who was actually herself personally accomplishing them all ! It matters not whether all her measures were the very wisest that could have been imagined. She had to contend with many difficulties that are now unknown ; prison discipline was then in its infancy ; every thing she did was conceived in the best spirit; and, considering the time, and the means at her command, could scarcely have been improved. The full extent to which she was personally en- gaged in carrying out these objects, has yet to be explained. The Sunday service in the jail was adopted, as we have seen, upon her recommenda- tion, and she joined the prisoners, as a fellow- worshipper, on Sunday morning. Their evening service, which was to be read in her absence, was soon abandoned ; but finding that to be the case, she attended on that part of the day also, and the pririkMT* ibu. fTf fc to UM prtuatTi. f. r :ns \M. inn JAM. I>M,I:K.ATIOH. hirh wu to W ml la ferr aUrar*. ... MM itanlnnl. kit. fed Uwl part of ih. day !. and I!M MrrW tkn r*- SARAH MARTIN. 85 service was then resumed. "After several changes of readers, the office," she says, " devolved on me. Th:it happy privilege thus graciously opened to me, and embraced from necessity, and in much was acceptable to the prisoners, for God made it so; and also an unspeakable advantage and comfort to myself." These modest sentences convey but a very faint notion of the nature of singular services. Fortunately, in a report of Captain Williams, one of the inspectors of prisons, we have a far more adequate account of the matter. It stands thus : " Sunday, November 29, 1835. Attended divine service in the morning at the prison. The male prisoners only were assembled; a fem.-ilr, resident in the town, officiated; her voice was exceedingly melodious, her delivery emphatic, and her elimi- nation cxtrnnely distinct. The service was the liturgy of the Church of England; two psalms were sung by the whole of the prisoners, and extremely well much better than I have frequently heard in our best-appointed churches. A written discourse, of her own composition, was read by her ; it was of a purely moral tendency, involving no doctrinal points, and admirably suited to the hearers. Dur- ing the performance of the service, the prisoners paid the profoundest attention, ami the most marked re>pect; and, as far as it is possible to judge, appeared to take a devout interest. Eve- ning servit ! was read by her afterward to the female prisoners.'* 86 WOMEN OF WOKTH. We believe that there are gentlemen in the world who stand so stiffly upon the virtue of cer- tain forms of ministerial ordination, as to set their faces against all lay, and especially against all female, religious teaching. We will not dispute as to what may, or may not, be the precise value of those forms. They ought to confer powers of inestimable worth, considering how stubbornlj they are defended and perhaps they do so ; but every one amongst us knows and feels that the power of writing or preaching good sermons is not amongst the number. The cold, labored eloquence which boy-bachelors are authorized by custom and constituted -authority to inflict upon us the dry husks and chips of divinity which they bring forth from the dark recesses of the theology (as it is called) of the fathers, or of the middle ages, sink into utter worthlessness by the side of the jail addresses of this poor, uneducated seamstress. From her own registers of the prisoners who came under her notice, it is easy to describe the ordinary members of her congregation : pert London pick- pockets, whom a cheap steamboat brought to reap a harvest -at some country festival; boors, whom ignorance and distress led into theft; depraved boys, who picked up a precarious livelihood amongst the chances of a seaport town; sailors, who had committed assaults in the boisterous hi- larity consequent upon a discharge with a paid-up arrear of wages ; servants, of both sexes, seduced by bad company into the commission of crimes SARAH MARTIN. 87 against tlu-ir masters; profligate women, who had ! a-Njwlt or theft to the ordinary vices of a litvntious lit\-; smugglers; a few game-law crinri- : and paupers transferred from a workhouse, where they had been initiated into crime, to a jail, where their knowledge was perfected. Such were some of the usual classes of persons who assembled around this singular teacher of righteousness. Noble woman! A faith so firm, and so disin- fd, might have removed mountains; a self- sacrifice founded upon such principles is amongst the most heroic cf human achievements. This appears to have been the busiest period of Sarah Martin's life. Her system, if we may so term it, of superintendence over the prisoners, was now complete. For six or seven hours daily she took her station amongst them; converting that wlm-li, without her, would have been, at best, a scene of dissolute idleness, into a hive of industry and order. "We have already explained the nature of the employment which she provided for them ; the manner of their instruction is described as fol- lows: "Any one who could not read, I encouraged to learn, whilst others in my absence assisted them. They wi-iv taught to write also; whilst such as could write already, copied extracts from books lent to them. Prisoners who were able to read, committed verses from the Holy Scriptures to nu-m- ory every day according to their ability or inclina- tion. I, as an example, also committed a \\-\\- verses to memory to repeat to them every day; 88 WOMEN OF WORTH. and the effect was remarkable; always silencing excuse when the pride of some prisoners would have prevented their doing it. Many said at first, ' It would be of no use ;' and my reply was, ' It is of use to me, and why should it not be so to you? You have not tried it, but I have.' Tracts and children's books, and large books, four or five in number, of which they were very fond, were ex- changed in every room daily, whilst any who could read more were supplied with larger books." There does not appear to have been any instance of a prisoner long refusing to take advantage of this mode of instruction. Men entered the prison saucy, shallow, self-conceited, full of cavils and ob- jections, which Sarah Martin was singularly clever in meeting ; but in a few days the most stubborn, and those who had refused the most peremptorily, either to be employed or to be instructed, would beg to be allowed to take their part in the general course. Once within the circle of her influence, the effect was curious. Men old in years, as well as in crime, might be seen striving for the first time in their lives to hold a pen, or bending hoary heads over primers and spelling-books, or study- ing to commit to memory some precept taken from the Holy Scriptures. Young rascals, as impudent as they were ignorant, beginning with one verse, went on to long passages; and even the dullest were enabled by perseverance to furnish their minds and memories with " from two to five verses every day." All these operations, it must be borne SARAH MARTIN. 89 in mind, were carried on under no authority save what was ent, or if such communication were de- sired, she would dilate upon the sorrows and suf- ferings of her guilty flock, and her own hopes and disappointments in connection with them, in the language of simple, animated truth. llr day was closed by no "return to a cheerful liroide prepared by the cares of another," but to her solitary apartments, which she had left locked up during her absence, and where "most of the don i Mir offices of life were performed by her own hands." There she kept a copious record of her proceedings in reference to the prisoners; notes of their circumstances and conduct during such time as they were under her observation, which gener- ally extended long beyond the period of their im- prisonment ; with most exact accounts of the expenditure of the little subscriptions before men- tioned, and also of a small annual payment from 92 WOMEN OF WORTH. the British Ladies' Society, established by Mrs. Fry, and of all other money committed to her in aid of any branch of her charitable labors. These books of record and account have been fery prop- erly preserved, and have been presented to a pub- lic library in Yarmouth. In scenes like these Sarah Martin passed her time, never appealing to think of herself; indeed her own scanty fare was hardly better than that of the poorest prisoner. Yet her soul was triumphant, and the joy of her heart found expression in sacred song. Nothing could restrain the energy of her mind.. In the seclusion of a lonely chamber, " apart from all that could disturb, and in a universe of calm repose, and peace, and love ;" when speaking of herself and her condition, she remarked, in words of singular beauty, : I seem to lie So near the heavenly portals bright, I catch the streaming rays that fly From eternity's own light." Thus she cheered her solitary room with strains of Christian praise and gratitude, and entered the dark valley of the shadow of death with hymns of victory and triumph. She died on the 15th of October, 1843, aged fifty-two years. Sarah Martin is one of the noblest of the Christ- ian heroines the nineteenth century has produced. The two predominant qualities of her soul were love, or " the charity which hopeth all things," and moral courage ; both eminently feminine en- SARAH MARTOT. 93 dowments. She performed her wonderful works with true womanly discretion. She is, therefore, an example of excellence of whom her sex should be more than proud they should be thankful for this light of moral loveliness enshrined in a female form. " Her gentle disposition," says one of her biographers, "never irritated by disappointment, nor her charity strai tened by ingratitude, pre- sent a combination of qualities which imagination sometimes portrays as the ideal of what is pure and beautiful, but which are rarely found em- bodiod with humanity. She was no titular Sister of Charity, but was silently felt and acknowledged to be one, by the many outcast and destitute per- sons who received encouragement from her lips and relief from her hands, and by the few who were witnesses of her good works. It is the business of literature to make such a life stand out from the masses of ordinary exist- ences, with something of the distinctness with which a lofty building uprears itself in the confur sion of a distant view. It should be made t,o at* tract all t \ . <, to excite the hearts of all persona who think the welfare of their fellow-mortals an object of interest or duty ; it should 1 be included in collections of biography, and chronicled in the high places of history ; men should be taught to estimate it as that of one whose philanthropy has entitled her to renown, and children to associate the name of Sarah Martin with those of Howard, Buxton, Fry the most benevolent of mankind. 94: WOMEN OF WORTH. THE WORKER OF CHARITY. MARGARET MERCER, WHO deserves a place among the most distin- guished of her sex, for her noble philanthropy, and efforts in the cause of female education, was born at Annapolis, Maryland, United States, in 1791. The family of Mercer was descended from an ancient English stock, transplanted to America soon after its colonization, and the race has, in its new location, done honor to the source from whence it was derived. The father of Margaret was, at the time of her birth, governor of Mary- land, a man of excellent education, refined taste, and large wealth. Retiring from public life, Gov- ernor Mercer withdrew to his estate at Cedai Fork, and devoted himself to agricultural pursuits, and the training of his children. Margaret was his only daughter, and her education was conducted under his immediate care, with little assistance from other teachers : she often remarked, that she had been " brought up at her father's feet." Mar- garet Mercer is another example of the beneficial influence which thorough mental training exercises MABGAKKT MKUi'Ki: 95 on woman's character, by enabling her to make her moral power more respected and more effect- ive. Scarcely an instance can be found where a father has aided and encouraged the mental im- provement of his daughter, but that she has done honor to his care and kindness, and been one of the brightest jewels in his crown. Such was Mar- garet Mercer: proud as the family might well be of the name they bore, she added its holiest lustre. "Her character," says her biographer, Dr. Caspar Morris, in his excellent memoir of this noble woman, "comprised elements apparently very di- verse, and yet all combined into a perfect whole, as the varied colors of a ray of light. Gentle, and full of atl'vtion for all, and ready t<> sympathize with sorrow wherever met with; feelings, the ncc of which will be found scattered every- where around these traces of her path through she yet possessed an energy and firmness rarely found in this connection." If we reflect further on the subject, remembering how few girls are trained as Margaret Mercer was her mental powers developed, and directed to guide and strengthen rightly those delicate montf sensibilities and tender affections peculiar to her sex one reason of her superiority becomes appar- ent. After giving a sketch of her studies in botany, and love of gardening, etc., Dr. Morris -ays ; " But it was not upon these sportive fancies alone that her mind exerted its powers. Graver 96 WOMEN OF WORTH. subjects occupied her attention, and performed their part in giving increased vigor to her reason- ing faculties, whilst the others were adding to the already-abounding stores of her fertile imagina- tion." She had access to a choice collection of works on history and general literature : these were her familiar companions, and her mind was thoroughly stored with their contents : whilst we find her at one time deep in mathematics, allowing herself but too little rest, that she might bring her mind under the wholesome discipline of this parent of careful thought; at another, theological discus- sions asserted strong empire over her mind, and in order to drink, as she supposed, more purely from the fountain itself, with less intervention of human teaching, she devoted herself with almost undivided attention to the study of Hebrew. A short time afterward, we find her carefully threading the in- tricate mysteries of medical science, that by the acquisition of a correct knowledge of the nature of diseases and their remedies, she might enlarge the sphere of her benevolent usefulness. The deep abstractions of metaphysics did not deter her from trying to fathom those abysses into which the mind plunges its line in vain, growing old in drawing up no certain token of reaching the solid foundation over which its deep waters roll so proudly. She remarks to a friend : " I do not come on very Avell with metaphysics ; I dislike any thing so inconclu- sive, and should be tired of following an angel, if he talked so in a ring." A paper of "Thoughts MARGARET MKRCER. 97 on the Magnet " proves her to have given attention .tural philosophy, and at an early period to h:i\- wrestled with some of those mysterious truths which are now but dawning upon the horizon of human knowledge. But whilst on all these subjects she could express herself with ease and eloquence, there was a simplicity and delicacy ulimit her character which separated her as widely as can be conceived from that class of " women of masculine understanding," whose assumption of claims to superiority over their own sex lead-; them t> de-pise the refinements and delicacy which communicate an appropriate and attractive grace to the female character. These can never be laid aside without a violation of the laws of nature, and a consequent shock to that unity of action which coii-titutes the beauty of the works of Him who to each an appropriate part in the sublime hrrmonyof that universe which attests His wisdom and power. Never was feminine grace more beau- tifully illustrated than in her whole career. Sho r forgot that it is the peculiar province of wti:ii:m to minister to the comfort, and promote the happiness, lirst, of those most nearly allied t<> her, and then of those who, by the providence of God, are placed in a state of dependence upon her. To discharge these duties was her unceasing ob- . to the accomplishment of which she devoted ith entire singleness of purpose. Tims f}\>' writes to a friend: "I, like every little mole toiling in his own dark passage, have been given to 7 98 WOMEN OF WORTH. murmuring, and my great complaint for some time past has been, that I was cut off from every means of usefulness, and could not find any thing on earth to do that might not as well remain undone ; and while I am fretting at having nothing to do, you find equal discomfort in having too much. Somebody, no matter who, has said the secret of happiness was, that the busy find leisure, and the idle find business, and it would seem so between us. And yet I doubt whether happiness is not a principle which belongs exclusively to God, and whether we can ever be satisfied till we wake up in His likeness. Whenever you can find that spot, sacred to religious peace and true friendship, send for me to your paradise ; but remember this is the reward promised to those who have gone through the struggle of our great spiritual warfare." At this time her pencil, her pen, and her needle, were all put in requisition in aid of the Greeks, in their struggle for h'berty. When Margaret Mercer was about two-and- twenty, she made a public profession of religion ; in a letter to a friend, she thus commemorates this important event : " I was confirmed, and had the pious blessing of our venerable old bishop, the day before I came from home. You cannot think how humble, how penitent, how happy I feel. It seems as though I still feel the pressure of his hand on my head. He has promised to come to see me next spring I do not think I was ever made for a married wo- MARGARET MERCER. 99 man ; I feel as if I was not intended to take so great a >hare in worldly things. If I did, I should forget my God, perhaps ; and may Providence load me with every human misery, and deprive me of earthly good, rather than that." And now tli:it her line talents had been cultivated by a liberal education and an extensive course of reading, and her naturally amiable disposition warmed and purified by true piety, she was ready for her work. Yet who that then looked upon her would have dreamed what that work was to be! Her biographer thus describes her at this period: " In personal appearance, Miss Mercer was pecu- liarly attractive; her stature was originally tall, her carriage graceful, her eye beaming, with intelli- gence, and her whole countenance expressive of the loveliest traits of female character. Disease and care set their marks upon her face in after-life, and caused her form to lose its symmetry, but ne\er quenched the beaming of the eye, nor dark- ihe radiance of her soul, which shone on every feature to the very last.'' There was a combination of attraetive grace with the impressiveness of su- r power, which is rarely met with; and while her manner \\ as often sportive, and she could adorn tin: mo-t common subjects of conversation by happy turns of thought ami purity of language, tli'-re was freijiiontly an elevation of thought, and of expression, which carried those thrown into association with her into a higher sphere than that of common everyday cxi.-tciico. Even those 100 WOMEN OF WORTH. who could not sympathize with, and appreciate hei character, were still struck with this feature in it. This is the true moral influence which woman, when her education is properly conducted, and her position rightly understood, will exercise over men, over society. That this moral power was held by woman, Miss Mercer felt to be true ; and hence arose her distaste for the " chatter " of the vain, frivolous, accomplished young ladies, whom she met in society. Thus she writes of her visit at Washington : " I acknowledge that there are many persons around me vastly better than I am ; but I am speaking of society, not people ; and I confess that the ' unidea-ed chatter of females ' is past my endur- ance ; they are very capable of better things, but what of that ? Is it not yet more annoying, that they will do nothing better ? And besides all this, I have more painful feelings of embarrassment in company than I had at sixteen. I am old, too ; and, when I go into gay scenes, the illusion is gone, and I fancy the illuminated hall to resemble the castle of enchantment, where Armida kept all who were capable of virtue bound in the lap of pleasure. I think how a M. Fellenberg has devoted a noble spirit to a grand system of education, and given them the model. All admire, all talk of it, and no one on the wide globe follows the example. Mrs. Fry opens the prison-gates looses the bonds of the captive carries healing into broken hearts, or plants virtue where vice was the only growth MARGARET MERCER. 101 what arc all these chattering women about, that tin v cannot \vear a simple garb, and follow her to jails and hospitals and poor-houses? No if I cannot do good where there is so much to do, I was and never will be a votary of folly." She was now engaged in founding .1 Sunday- school. Writing to a friend, she says : " When my head turns to this subject, it seems to me I want forty heads, well-stored with strong sense; forty frames supported by vigorous strength and health; and a hundred hands as organs of execu- tion for the plans and projects of my head." Miss Mercer was to have a wider sphere for the office of teacher, which seemed her peculiar mis sion. Her mother died when Margaret was young. Her father's death, which took place at Philadel- ]>lii:u, whither she had accompanied him for his health, proved the cri>is of her life. She had been accustomed to all the indulgences love and wealth can bestow. From this time, she was to prove what those endure who have their only faith in God and their own energies on which to rely. Much of her property consisted in slaves these she liber- ated, provided for, and sent to Liberia. Thus Dr. Morris gives the summary : "This emancipation of her slaves was one of a chain of acts inseparably linked together, by which she reduced herself from affluence to absolute de- pendence on her own exertions for maintenance ; and that not ignorantly and gradually, but instantly, and with full knowledge of the inevitable result. 102 WOMEN OF WOKTH. She therefore apologizes to Mr. Gurley for doing so little for them, and remarks : ' Should any think I have not done my part by these poor creatures, I can but bear the blame silently. A formal re- monstrance against my making such a disposition of my property has been addressed to me by and . But I have determined to abide the consequences.' These consequences were anxiety, toil, and poverty, endured without a murmur or regret, during twenty-five years of life enfeebled by disease." And now she was to begin the world ; she chose the arduous post of teacher in a school for young girls in Virginia; but her plans of charity were not given up. Thus she writes to a friend : " I have been desiring a day or two of repose that I might devote to you and your dearest mo- ther. But, indeed, you have very little idea of the life I lead. Saturday is as laboriously spent in working for the Liberian Society, as any other day in the week ; and on Sunday we have a Sunday- school, in which I have my part, and so make out to .employ every day fully. Drawing keeps me on my feet for six hours every other day ; and at first it was truly bewildering to teach twenty-three children who did not know how to make a straight line. You ace anxious to know all about me, and you see I am free in my communication ; there are many encouraging circumstances in the mode of life I have adopted ; for those very things that are most painful, prove how much there is to do / and MA KG A RET MERCK K. 103 where there is much to do, steady laborious efforts to do good will doubtless bo blessed, although we may in mercy be denied the luxury of seeing our work under the sun prosper. Mrs. G. is sometimes much dispirited, at times without cause; for every little painful occurrence of misconduct in the children affords opportunity of more strenuously enforcing good principles. I never knew how to be thankful to my parents, above all to my God, for a good education, until I came to look into the state of young ladies generally." The desire to be made instrumental in training souls for eternity was the ruling motive by which sin- was influenced; and, from the very first, her chief efforts were devoted to this great end, which was pursued without deviation throughout her whole career, though by no means to the neglect of those subsidiary acquirements which she. es- teemed as highly as any one could do, and labored most unremittingly to communicate to her pupils. Sin? continued in this, her chosen profession, for about twenty-live years ; established a school of her own; and her example and influence have had a moxt salutary and wide-spread effect on the com- munity where she resided. This admirable woman in the autumn of 1840, aged fifty-live years. Sin- prepared two works for her pupils, " Studies for Bible Classes," and a volume entitled "Ethics;" in >rm of lectures to young ladies, which she em- ployed as a text-book in teaching moral philosophy. It i> admirably adapted to its purpose, conveying 104 WOMEN OF WORTH. in chaste, yet glowing language, the feelings of a sanctified heart. Adopting the word of God as the only source of knowledge, as well as of the prac- tical duties of life, she endeavors to explain and enforce the principles there laid down for the for- mation of character, and the government of life. It is a work well worthy of the study of every woman who desires to attain to a high degree of moral worth. We give one extract : CONVEESATION. " If you are conscious that the sin of idle talking prevails among you ; if you are sensible of so of- fending individually ; or, if the sad effect of this low, disgraceful, and corrupting vice disturbs the peace and serenity of your little circle, let me en- treat you as the most certain corrective of the evil, to form some common plan for promoting the per- fection and happiness of your fellow-creatures. Imbue your hearts with the spirit of active charity, and the gossip of the worldly-minded wiU, indeed, sound on your ears like idle words. No conversa- tion will then appear to you worthy of notice, bvit such as has some evident bearing upon the improve- ,ment or happiness of the human race. "When this :ha once become the main object of your hopes, your fears, your labors, and your prayers, it will be- come the most interesting subject of your thoughts, and the favorite theme of your conversations. Imagine Mr. Howard, or Mrs. Fry, to return home at evening, with souls filled with images of the MAK'iAKl.T Ml i:CKK. 105 poor pri-oners they h:il vi-ited, handcuffed and chaiiud, lying upon a pile ot'tilthy straw, perishing with cold ami hunger; or, worse, in the horrid In ullage of MII, blaspheming, drinking, and fighting in their snbterrene hole. Do you think they would be agreeably amused, it', when their efforts were directed to " stir up the pure minds fervently," of the young around them, to aid in their noble labors, they were called upon to join in the childish prattle of girls discussing the ribbands on their hair, or the riiiLT- <>n their fingers; or, in the equally con- temptible jargon of young men of fashion, of their hat-rims, or coat-capes, or shoe-tics, or, still worse, the cruel, wicked custom usual with both sexes, of ting characters, and speaking evil of othors, merely to excite some interest in their vapid con- tion? Conversation is to works what the flower is (<> tin- fruit. A godly conversat ion shelters and cherishes the new-born spirit of virtue, as the flower does the fruit from the cold, chi'.l atmos- phere, of a heartless world; and the I eauty of holiness expanding in conversation, giv-s rational anticipation of noble-minded principU-s ripening into the richest fruits of good works. You know the tree as well by the flower as the fruit, and m-vcr inc. I you hope to see the lig follow the thistle tlouer, or grapes the wild bloom of the thorn-tree. Honor God, thru, with youi bodies and spirits, in your lives and conversation*; show forth holiness out of a good conversation; for the king's daughter is all ylurious ir ///, and Waddel, appear. The book of his- tory is full of the fame of the former, and their monuments are on almost every chimney-piece* the latter are only known to the Christian world of Great Britain and America, the angels, and the heathen ; but their place of remembrance shall be heaven. The mi innary field, however, is not exclusively reserved for the strong and faithful and forward man. As Christianity is woman's bond of eqnality with man, s<> is tlu- vineyard of Christ equally her place of labor, and she also goes forth in the faith that maketh strong, to do the will of Him who sends her. I'.-rhaps it might appear invidious to sketch the life of any one of those amiable heroines of the cross, when the lives of all are so full of true courage and faith ; but as, on the other hand, the life of one, save in its incidents, may be looked upon :us a parallel to that of all others, it is both -sary and profitable to particularize. Sarah Boardman Judson was born in 1603, at 108 WOMEN OF WORTH. Alstead, in the state of N"ew Hampshire, and sub- sequently removed with her parents, Ralph and Abiah Hall, to Danvers, and then to Salem, in the state of Massachusetts. Sarah was the eldest of five children ; and, as her parents were of the in- dustrious class, she was constrained, like the ma- jority of poor men's eldest daughters, to devote herself more to the care of her younger brothers and sisters than to the regular cultivation of her own mind. There are some minds that would never grow strong unless they had something to struggle against. The latent courage of the noblest souls is only aroused and developed by those op- posing forces that seem any thing but blessings. Mysterious are the ways of Providence, however, and finite and partial the judgments of men. We know not how the circumstances of life may oper- ate toward the soul God knows. Deprived of the power of attending school, Sarah Hall was thrown upon herself. She had no teacher save ex- perience, no guide in her lessons save her books, and to these she applied herself with heroic dili- gence. Care produced thus early hi Sarah Hall that thoughtfulness and patience which, when ma- tured, so beautifully adorn the Christian character, and her self-education was just the path to riper self-reliance. She early began to observe and think, and to write down her thoughts in a little day- book ; and then in the form of poetry, when her ideas became more expanded and matured. At seventeen years of age, Sarah Hall had devoted SARAH BOARDMAN JUD80N. 10U herself to the business of instructing others, in order that she might obtain the means of educat- ing herself. During the day she taught, and at night slu- devoted her mind to the acquisition of logic, geometry, and Latin, etc. a course of severe procedure that none but those who have pursued it can properly estimate. The baptism of Sarah Hall seems to have awakened in her the whole force of her inward life ; and her meditations and aspirations seem, shortly after this event, to have been toward the path of a missionary. "I am privileged to worship the true God," she would say, "but, alas! for the poor perishing heathen who has never known Him." There is something so admirable in the spirit of these musings and ex- pressions that, apart from their religious character, they are sutlicieiit to claim the respect of e\f having an armed guard ; but this would have totally deprived the missionary of gaining the confidence of the people, and it was declined. It was to study the language, habits, and character of the natives that he had gone thither, and not as a conqueror. About a month after her settlement at Maulmaiii, Mrs. Boardman wrote to a friend: " We are in excellent health, and as happy as it is possible lor human beings to be upon earth. It is our earnest desire to live, and labor, and die, among this people." The life of a missionary is not one of ease and safety, as the following thrilling in- cident in the life of young Sarah JJoardman will show. About the middle of June, as the meridian sun came down from its altitude, men in loose -gar- ments of gaily-plaided doth, and with their long black hair wound about their heads, and confined by folds of muslin, looked curiously in at the door of the strange foreigner ; and then encouraged by some kind word or ardman chanced to raise her iv the curtain beneath wh'n-h her husband had slept, and she thought of her lost goods no more. Two j.i-hrs, one at the la-ad and the other at the foot, had been cut in the muslin ; anil there had the desperate villains stood, glaring on the uncon- m sleeper with their fierce, murderous eyes, while the booty was secured by their companions. The bared, swarthy arm was ready for the blow, and the sharp knife, or pointed spear, glittered in their hands. Had the sleeper opened his eyes, had he only stirred, had but .1 heavy, long-drawn breath startled the cowardice of guilt ah, had it ! I>nt it did not. The rounded limbs of the little infant lay motionless as their marble counterfeit; for if their ny lip^ had moved but to the slightest mur- mur, or the tiny hand crept closer to the loved bosom in her baby divams, the chord in th- ^oth- er's breast must have answered, and :' stroke followed. lint the mother held h- to her heart, and slept on. Murderers the bed-ide, regarding with callous heart tiful tableau; and the husband and lather But then- was one eye open the eye that ; slumbers a protecting wing was over them, and a soft imUible hand pn-;sed down their sleeping lids. Nearly every article of value that could be taken away had di-apperuvd from the hou-e ; and though strict search was made throughout the neighborhood, no trace of them was ever disc>\- ered. I 114- WOMEN OF WORTH. It was at Tavoy, however, that the real labors of the Boarclmans began, and here they had to struggle with the utmost difficulties. Both had suffered in their health, and both were called upon to exert themselves to the utmost in the acquire- ment of the dialect of the people, and in the pur- suit of plans for their instruction. The missionaries had not only to contend with the climate, failing strength, and the other accidents of their position, but they had also to share the dangers and trials incidental to those states which forcibly base them- selves upon the subjugation of their neighbors. In August, 1827, at the dead of night, the natives of Tavoy revolted against the British, and drove the commandant of the whites and a hundred sepoys into a blockhouse on the quay. Here the Europeans maintained themselves until the arrival of Colonel Burney, when the revolt was suppress- ed; but the fatigue, agitation, and exposure, accel- erated the decline of Mr. Boardman's already failing health, and hurried him on to that grave which he found on Burmah's distant shore. And now Mrs. Boardman was left alone with her only child, George. And now came the inquiry from Sarah's widowed heart, " What shall I do ?" She wrote to America, to Maulmain, to Rangoon, and Am- herst for advice, and prayed to be directed in the way that she should go. Her spirit inclined her, however, to remain iu her appointed sphere, and she did remain. " When I first stood by the grave of my husband, I thought I must go home with SARAH BOAKDMAN JODSON. 115 George. But these poor, inquiring, and Christum Karens, and the schoolboys, and the Burmese Christians, would then be left without any one to instruct them; ami the poor, stupid Tavoyans would go on in the road to death, with no one to warn them of their danger. How then, oh, how can I go? We shall not be separated long. A few more years, and we shall all meet in yonder blissful world, whither those we love have gone before us. I feel thankful that I was allowed to come to this heathen land. Oh, it is a precious privilege to tell idolaters of the gospel ; and when we see them disposed to love the Saviour, we forget all our privations and dangers. My beloved husband wore out his lite in this glorious cause; anl that remembrance makes me more than ever attached to the work, and the people for whose salvation he labored till death." Mrs. Boardman now devoted herself with all the energy of her soul to the instruction of those so much ca-t upon her by the death of her hus- band, aid moved about from place to place, en- couuterinir much danger and enduring much fatigue in her apo-tolic minimi. She went into the jungle amongst the simple Karens and established schools, with the super\i-ion of which she taxed herself. Tlu-e .lay-schools attracted the notice of the agents of the British government, and they were allow- anced by the same, although (littering, somewhat in constitution from the formula prescribed in the India Company's circular. She soon became 116 WOMEN OF WORTH. a most excellent Burmese scholar, and was enabled to communicate in that language with great fluency. " Mrs. Boardman's tours in the Karen wilderness, with little George, borne in the arms of her follow- ers, beside her through wild mountain passes, over swollen streams and deceitful marshes, and among the craggy rocks and tangled shrubs of the jungle if they could be spread out in detail, would doubtless present scenes of thrilling interest. But her singular modesty always made her silent on a subject which would present her in a light so enterprising and adventurous. Even her most in- timate friends could seldom draw from her any thing on the subject; and they knew little more than that such tours were made, and that the pro- gress of the gospel was not suspended among the $ Karens while her husband's successor was engaged in the study of the language. There is a note addressed to Mrs. Mason, from a zayat by the wayside, just before she reached the mountains; and this is the only scrap among her writings alluding in any way to these tours. It was sent back by a party of men who were to bring her provisions, and contains only directions about the things necessary to her journey. She says : ' Per- haps you had better send the chair, as it i-* conve- nient to be carried over the streams when they are deep. You will laugh when I tell you that I have forded all the smaller ones.' A single anecdote is related by Captain F , a British officer, station- ed at Tavoy; and he used to dwell with much SARAH BOARDMAN JDD8GN. 117 unction on the lovely apparition which once greet- ed him among these wild, dreary mountains. He had left Tavoy, accompanied by a few followers, I think on a hunting expedition, and had strolled far into the jungle. The heavy rains which deluge this country in the summer had not yet commenced; but they were near at hand, and during the night had sent an earnest of their coming, which was any thing but agreeable. All along his path hung the dripping trailers, and beneath his feet were the roots of vegetables, half-bared, and half- imbedded in mud ; while the dark clouds, with the rain almost incessantly pouring from them, and the crazy clusters of bamboo huts, which appeared here and there in the gloomy waste, and were honored by the name of village, made up a scene of desolation absolutely indescribable. A heavy shower coming up as he approached a zayat by the wayside, and far from even one of those primitive villages, he hastily took refuge beneath the roof. Here, in no very good humor with the world, especially Asiatic jungles and tropic rains, he sulk ily ' whistled for want of thought,' and employed, his eyes in watching the preparations for his break- fast. * Uh ! what wretched corners the world has, hidden beyond its oceans and behind ks trees!' Just as he had made this sage mental reflection, he was startled by the vision of a fair, smiling face in front of the zayat, the property of a dripping figure, which seemed to his surprised imagination to have stepped that moment from the clouds. 118 WOMEN OF WORTH. But the party of wild Karen followers, which gathered around her, had a very human air ; and the slight burthens they bore spoke of human wants and human cares. The lady seemed as much surprised as himself; but she curtsied with ready grace, as she made some pleasant remark hi English, and then turned to retire. Here was a dilemma. He could not suffer the lady to go out into the rain, but his miserable accommodations, and still more miserable breakfast ! He hesitated and stammered; but her quick apprehension had taken it all at a glance, and she at once relieved him from his embarrassment. Mentioning her name and errand, she added, smiling, that the emergencies of the wilderness were not knew to her; and now she begged leave to put her own breakfast with his, and make up a pleasant morning party. Then beckoning to her Karens, she spoke a few unintelligible words, and disappeared under a low shed a mouldering appendage of the zayat. She soon returned with the same sunny face, and in dry clothing ; and very pleasant indeed was the interview between the pious officer and the lady- missionary. They were friends afterward; and the circumstances of their first meeting proved a very charming reminiscence." After three years of widowhood, Mrs. Board- man was united to Dr. Judson, of the American mission, at Maulmain, whither she removed with her little son, where she devoted herself to the ac- quirement of a new language, called the Peguan, SARAH BOARDMAN JUDSON. 119 iii which he made considerable advancement. She rrvi-rJ i'ic standard tracts in Peguan, and the cate- chism and Gospel according to St. Luke ; and, as- sisted by Ko-man-boke, a Peguan Christian, she tnmskted the New Testament. The life at Maul- main was one of love, labor, and trial. Eight children were born to her here, and three of them withered away and died, while, to add to the depth of her trials, Dr. Judson was threatened with the fatal disease which had bereft her of her first hus- band. Here, too, had she parted from her oldest son, and endured all the pangs of a wife and loving mother. Her last child was born in December, 1844, when she was attacked with chronic diar- rhcea, from which she had suffered much in the early part of her missionary life. It soon became evident, from the sinking of her physical powers, that death 'was in her cup, unless some remedy could be found to alleviate her sufferings : and a sea-voyage being the only thing that suggested, itself to the physician, she departed with her hus- band and three eldest children for America. At first, the voyage seemed to produce the most bene- ficial results, and she even proposed to proceed alone from the Isle of France, but the disease re- turned once more with fatal virulence, and she died at sea on 1st September, 1845, and was buried at St. Helena. She sleeps amongst the distant mould of the sea-washed solitary islo, and over her ashes her husband has erected a monument, with the following inscription : " Sacred to the memory 120 WOMEN OF WOETH. of Sarah B. Judson, member of the American Bap- tist Mission to Burmah, formerly wife of the Rev. George D. Boardman, of Tavoy, and lately wife of the Rev. Adoniram Judson, of Maulmain, who died in this port, September 1, 1845, on her passage to the United States, in the forty-second year of her age, and the twenty-first of her missionary life." " Would that those who declare that there is no vitality in Christianity, could see and appreciate the courage and sacrifices which animate and are demanded from those who, like Mrs. Judson, go forth to tell the darkened savage of Christ ! RACHEL, LADY BUS8ELL. 121 THE NOBLE DAME. RACHEL, LADY RUSSELL. "She neither sought to .hin In the world by the extent of her capa- city, nor to display, by affected retirement, the elevation of her soul ; ami when circumstances obliged her to come forward on the stage of his- tory, she showed herself In the appropriate character of a wife and a mother. llenee we may Mi*ee, that the unobtrusive mndenty of pri- vate lift contain* many a female capable of giving the tame trample to her MB. and to mankind." LORD JOHN RUSSELL'S REMARKS ox TBB CHARACTKB or RACHEL, LADY RUSSELL. ' A woman distinguished fur ardenc and tender affection ; pious, reflect- ing. Arm, and courageous; alike exemplary In prosperity and adversity, when observed by multitude*, or hidden in retirement." RACHEL, LADY RUSSELL, second daughter of Thomas Wriothesley, Earl of Southampton, was born in 1636. She married first Lord Vaughan; and after his death she married, in 1669, William, Lord Russell, third son of William, first Duke of Bedford. One son and two daughters were the fruits of this union, which was a very happy one, though Lady Rachel was four or five years older than IT husband. Lord Russell, being implicate*! in a conspiracy with the Duke of Monmouth, nat- ural son of Charles II., Algernon Sidney, John Hampdcn, grandson to the celebrated patriot of 122 WOMEN OF WOKTH. that name, Essex, and Howard, to prevent the suc- cession of the Duke of York to the throne, was arrested and sent to the Tower. Monmouth fled ; Howard saved himself by revealing his accom- plices; and Essex, Sidney, and Hampden, were apprehended on his evidence. They were also accused of conspiring against the life of Charles II., which was not true. The Protestant succes- sion, and the prevention of encroachments on the liberties of the people, were their chief objects. On the day of his trial Lord Russell asked leave of the court that notes of the evidence might be taken for his use. He was informed that he might have the assistance of one of his servants. " My wife is here, my lord, to do it," replied the noble prisoner. The spectators, seeing the daughter of the virtuous Southampton thus assisting her hus- band in his distress, melted into tears. Every ap- plication to save Lord Russell proved vain. The independent spirit, patriotism, popularity, courage, talents, and virtues of the prisoner, were his most dangerous offences, and became so many arguments against his escape. Lady Russell threw herself at the feet of the king, and pleaded with tears the merits and loyalty of her father, as an atonement for her husband's offences. But Charles remained unmoved, and even rejected her petition for a respite of a few weeks. On finding every effort fruitless for saving the life of her husband, she collected her courage, and fortified her mind for the fatal stroke, confirm- RACHEL, LADY RUSSELL. 123 ing by her example the resolution of her husband. HU courage never appeared to falter but when he spoke of his wife ; his eyes would then fill with -, and he appeared anxious to avoid the sub- Wlu-n parting from Lady Russell, they mu- tually preserved a solemn silence; and when she loll him, he said, "The bitterness of death was pa>t. M He tlu-n expressed his gratitude to Provi- dence that had given him a wife who, to birth, fortune, talents, and virtue, united sensibility of heart ; and whose conduct in this trying crisis, had i-\en siirpa ed all her other virtues. Lord Itussell was executed July 21st, 1683. His widow proved the faithful guardian of his honor, a v !-> and aetive mother to his children, and a friend and patroness of his friends. Her letters, written after her husband's death, give a touching picture of her conjugal affection and fidelity; but no expression of resentment or traces of a vindictive spirit mingle with the senti ment of grief by which they are pervaded. Her only son, Wriothesley, Duke of Bedford, dit .1 in 1711, of the small-pox; and soon after her daughter, the Duchess of Rutland, died in child- bed. Her other daughter, the Duchess of Devon- shire, was also in childbed at the time of her sis- ter's death ; and Lady Russell again was called upon to give new proofs of her self-control. After beholding one daughter in her coffin, she went to the chamber of the other with a tranquil count* . The Duchess of Devonshire earnestly inquir 124: WOMEN OF WORTH. ing after her sister, Lady Russell calmly replied, " I have seen your sister out of bed to-day." Some years after her husband's death, she was under apprehensions of an entire loss of sight ; but this was prevented by an operation. Lady Russell died September 29th, 1723, aged eighty-seven. About fifty years afterward, her letters were col- lected and published, which established her fame in literature, as one of the most elegant writers of her time. In whatever light we consider her char- acter, its moral excellence appears perfect. Such an example shows the power of female influence to promote good and resist evil. Even the noble Lord Russell was made better by his union with her. Amiable and prudent, as well as lovely, she was the means of reclaiming him from some youthful follies into which he had plunged at the time of the Restoration. With such a guardian angel by his side, no wonder he was strengthened to act his lofty part, and die a patriot martyr. His widow wore her weeds to the close of her life ; their con- jugal union of hearts was never broken, as the fol- lowing extracts from her letters will show : TO DR. FITZWILLIAM ON^ HER SORROW. I am sure my heart is filled with the obligation, how ill soever my words may express it, for all those hours you have set apart (in a busy life) for my particular benefit, for the quieting of my dis- tracted thoughts, and reducing them to a just meas- RACHEL, LADY RUSSELL. 12i> are of patience for all I have or can suffer. I trust I shall, with diligence, and some success, serve those ends they were designed to. They have very punctually, the time you intended them for, the last two sheets coming to my hands the 16th of this fatal month; it is the 21st completes my three years of true sorrow, which should be turned rather into joy ; as you have laid it before me, with rea- sons strongly maintained, and rarely illustrated. Sure he is one of those has gained by a dismission from a longer attendance here; while he lived, his being pleased led me to be so too, and so it should do still ; and then my soul should be full of joy ; I should be easy and cheerful, but it is sad and heavy ; so little we distinguish how, and why we love, to me it argues a prodigious fondness of one's self; I am impatient that is hid from me I took delight in, though he knows much greater than he did here. All I can say for myself, is, that while we are clothed with flesh, to the perfectest, some displeasure will attend a separation from things we love. This comfort I think I have in my afflic- tion, that I can say, unless thy law had been my delight, I should have perished in my trouble. The riMiig from the dead is a glorious contemplation, doctor ! nothing raises a drooping spirit like it ; his Holy Spirit, in the mean time, speaking peace to our consciences, and through all the gloomy sad- ness of our condition, letting us discern that we belong to the election of grace, that our persons are accepted and justified. But still I will humble 126 WOMEN OF WORTH. myself for my own sins, and those of our families, that brought such a day on us. I have been under more than ordinary care for my eldest girl ; she has been ill of St. Anthony's fire, as we call it, and is not yet free from it. I had a doctor down with her, but he found her so likely to do well he stayed only one day. I have sent you these Gazettes, and will send no more, for I reckon you will be in your progress of visits. I wish with you Lord Campden would marry ; but I want skill to prevail by what I can say. I hope I need employ none to persuade Dr. Fitzwil- liam that I am very acknowledging, and very sin- cerely, etc. TO THE SAME. ******* If I could contemplate the conducts of Provi- dence with the uses you do, it would give ease indeed, and no disastrous events should much affect us. The new scenes of each day make me often conclude myself very void of temper and reason, that I still shed tears of sorrow and not of joy, that so good a man is landed safe on the happy shore of a blessed eternity ; doubtless he is at rest, though I find none without him, so true a partner he was in all my joys and griefs; I trust the Almighty will pass by this my infirmity; I speak it in respect to the world, from whose en- ticing delights I can now be better weaned. I was too rich in possessions whilst I possessed him : all RACHEL, LADY KU88ELL. 127 relish is now gone, I bless God for it, and pray, and ask of all good people (do it for me from such you know are so) also to pray that I may more and more turn the stream of my affections upward, and set my heart upon the ever-satisfying perfec- tions of God; not starting at his darkest provi- dences, but remembering continually either his glory, justice, or power is advanced by every one of them, and that mercy is over all his works, as we shall one day with ravishing delight see : in the iiu-iin time, I endeavor to suppress all wild imagi- nations a melancholy fancy is apt to let in; and say with the man in the gospel, " I believe, help thou my unbelief." TO THE SAME. Never shall I, good doctor, I hope, forget your work (as I may term it) of labor and love : so in- structive and comfortable do I find it, that at any time when I have iv:id any of your papers, I feel a within me to be repeating my thanks to you anew, which is all I can do toward the discharge of a debt you have engaged me in ; and though nobody loves more than I do to stand free from engagements I cannot answer, yet I do not wish for it here; I would have it as it is; and although I have the present advantage, you will have the future reward; and if I can truly reap what I know you design me by it, a religious and quiet submission to all providences, I am assured you 128 WOMEN OF WORTH. will esteem to have attained it here in some meas- ure. Never could you more seasonably have fed me with such discourses, and left me with expecta- tions of new repasts, in a more seasonable time, than these my miserable months, and in those this very week in which I have lived over again that fatal day that determined what fell out a week after, and that has given me so long and so bitter a time of sorrow. But God has a compass in his providences, that is out of our reach, and as he is all good and wise, that consideration should in reason slacken the fierce rages of grief. But sure, doctor, 'tis the nature of sorrow to lay hold on all things which give a new ferment to it, then how could I choose but feel it in a time of so much con- fusion as these last weeks have been, closing so tragically as they have done ; and sure never any poor creature, for two whole years together, has had more awakers to quicken and revive the an- guish of its soul than I have had ; yet I hope I do most truly desire that nothing may be so bitter to me, as to think that I have in the least offended thee, O my God ! and that nothing may be so mar- vellous in my eyes as the exceeding love of my Lord Jesus: that heaven being my aim, and the longing expectations of my soul, I may go through .honor and dishonor, good report and bad report, prosperity and adversity, with some evenness of mind. The inspiring me with these desires is, I hope, a token of his never-failing love toward me, though an unthankful creature for all the good BACHEL, LADY BUSSELL. 129 I have enjoyed, and do still in the lives of hopeful children by so beloved a husband. TO THE EARL OF GALWAY ON FRIENDSHIP. I have before me, my good lord, two of your I t-t tors, both partially and tenderly kind, and coming from a sincere heart and honest mind (the last a plain word, but, if I mistake not, very significant), are very comfortable to me, who, I hope, have no proud thoughts of myself as to any sort. The opinion of an esteemed friend, that one is not very wrong, assists to strengthen a weak and willing mind to do her duty toward that Almighty Being, who has, from infinite bounty and goodness, so chequered my days on this earth, as I can thank- fully reflect I felt many, I may say many years of pure, and, I trust, innocent, pleasant content, and happy enjoyments as this world can afford, partic- ularly that biggest blessing of loving and being l'vrl ly thoM- 1 livel and respected; on earth no enjoyment certainly to be put in the balance with it. All other are like wine, intoxicates for a time, but the end is bitterness, at least not profitable. Mr. Waller (whose picture you look upon) has, I long remember, these words : "All we know they do above la, that they sing, and that they love." The best news I have heard is, you have two good companions with you, which, I trust, will 130 WOMEN OF WOKTH. contribute to divert you this sharp season, when, after so sore a fit as I apprehend you have felt, the air even of your improving pleasant garden cannot be enjoyed without hazard. TO LADY SUNDEKLAND ON HEALTH, FRIENDSHIP, LOVE. Your kind letter, madam, asks me to do much better for myself and mine, than to scribble so in- significantly as I do in a piece of paper ; but for twenty several reasons you must have the advantage you offer me with obliging earnestness a thousand times greater than I deserve, or there can be cause for, but that you have taken a resolution to be all goodness and favor to me. And indeed what greater mark can you almost give than remember- ing me so often, and letting me receive the exceed- ing advantage of your doing so, by reading your letters, which are all so edifying ? When I know you are continually engaged in so great and neces- sary employments as you are, and have but too imperfect health, which to any other in the world but Lady Sunderland would unfit for at least so great despatches as you are charged with. These are most visible tokens of Providence, that every one that aims to do their duty shall be enabled to do it. I hope your natural strength is so great, that it will in some time, if you do your part, master what has been accidentally in the disorder of it. Health, if one strictly considers, is the first of earthly bless- RACHEL, LADY RUSSELL. 131 ings; for even the conversation of friends, which as to >iiiritu:il profits, as you excellently observe, is the nearest approach we can make to heaven while we live in these tabernacles of clay ; so it is in a temporal sense, also, the most pleasant and the mo-t profitable improvement we can make of the time we are to spend on earth. But, as I was say- ing, if our bodies are out of tune, how ill do we enjoy what in itself is so precious? and how often mu>t we choose, if we can attain it, a short slum- ber, that may take oft* our sense of pain, than to accept what we know in worth excels almost to in- finitenos ? Xo soul can gpeak more feelingly than my poor self on this subject ; who can truly say, my friendships have made all the joys and troubles of my life ; and yet who would live and not love? Those who have tried the insipidness of it would, I believe, never choose it. Mr. Waller says " Tis (with siuj/mir) nil we know they do above." And it is enough ; for if there is so charming a delight in the love, and suitableness in humors, to creature-: what nm-t it bo to our clarified spirits to love in tin- pn-M'iice of God ! Can there be a greater con. trmplatioii to provoke to diligence for our prepa- ration to that threat change, win-re we shall be per- 1, and so continue for ever! I see I have scribble- 1 a irreat deal of paper; I dare not read it, h-t I should be sorry, Lady Sunderland should; and yet can now send her nothing if not this, for my eyes grow ill so fast, I resolve to do nothing of this sort by candle-light. 132 WOMKN OF THE PATTERN OF DOMESTIC VIRTUE. LUCY HUTCHINSON, DAUGHTER of Sir Allan Apsley, was born in 1624. At the age of eighteen she was married to Colonel John Hutchinson, who distinguished himself as one of the most efficient among the Puritan leaders in the war between Charles I. and the Parliament. Their courtship was a very romantic one, as it is given by the lady in her "Memoir" of her hus- band. She says : " Never was there a passion more ardent and less idolatrous ; he loved her better than his life ; with inexpressible tenderness and kind- ness; had a most high, obliging esteem of her; yet still considered honor, religion, and duty, above her; nor ever suffered the intrusion of such a dotage as should blind him from marking her im- perfections." That it was " not her face he loved," but " her honor and her virtue were his mistress," he abundantly proved ; for, " on the day fixed for the marriage, when the friends of both parties were assembled, and all were waiting the appearance of the bride, she was suddenly seized with an illness, at that time often the most fatal to life and beauty. LUCY HUTCHIN80N. 133 She was taken ill of the small-pox ; was for some time in imminent danger; and, at last, when her ivcMvery was assured, the return of her personal attractions was considered more than doubtful." She says, indeed, herself, that her illness made her, for a long time after she had regained her health, " the most deformed person that could be seen." Hut Mr. Hutc'hinson's affection was as strong as his honor. lie neither doubted nor delayed to pros- ecute his suit ; but, thankful to God for her pres- ervation, he claimed her hand as soon as she was able to quit her chamber, and when the clergyman who performed the service, ami the friends who witnessed it, were afraid to look at the wreck of her beauty. He was rewarded; for her features were restored, unblemished as before; and her form, when he presented her as his \s ifc, justified his taste as much as her more intrinsic Dualities did las jiid^ini nt. They were united to each other on the 3d of July, 1038. Their union was an example of the happiness which marriage confers on those who fulfil its duties in holy truth and faithful love. In the perils of war, Mrs. llutdiinson was an attendant on her beloved husband ; and when, after the restoration of Charles II., Colonel Hutchinson was imprisoned in the Tower, she followed him, and never ceased her exertions and importunities till she was per- mitted to vixit him. When her husband was re- mv. .1 to Sundown Castle, in Kent, she, with some of her children, went also, and used every entreaty 134: WOMEN OF WORTH. to be permitted to reside in the castle with him. This was refused ; but she took lodgings in Deal, and walked every day to Sandown to see and cheer the prisoner. All that could be done to obtain his pardon or liberation she did ; but as Colonel Hutch- inson was a Puritan and a republican on princi- ple, and would not disclaim his opinions, though he would promise to live in quiet, his enemies listen- ed to no pleadings for mercy. What was to have been his ultimate punishment will never be known ; the damp and miserable apartment in which he was confined brought on an illness which ended his life, September llth, 1664, leaving his wife with eight children and an embarrassed estate, to mourn his irreparable loss. Mrs. Hutchinson was not with him at his death ; she had gone to their home to obtain supplies, and bring away the children left there. His death-scene shows the estimation in which he held her. So long as he was able to sit up, he read much in the Bible ; and on looking over some notes on the Epistle to the Romans, he said, " When my wife returns, I will no more ob- serve their cross humors ; but when her children are all near, I will have her in the chamber with me, and they shall not pluck her out of my arms. During the winter evenings she shall collect to- gether the observations I have made on this Epistle since I have been in prison." As he grew worse, the doctor feared delirium, and advised his brother and daughter not to defer any thing they wished to say to him. Being in- LUCT HUTCniNSOJf. 135 formed of his condition, he replied with much com- posure, "The will of the Lord be done; I am ready." II.- then gave directions concerning the disposal of his fortune, and left strict injunctions that his children should be guided in all things by their mother. "And tell her," said he, "that as she is above other women, so must she on this occasion show herself a good Christian, and above tin- pitch of ordinary minds." tht'ully she fulfilled these injunctions; evin- cing her sorrow and her love, not by useless repin- ings, but by training up her children to be like their father, and employing her talents in con- structing a monument to his fame. For this pur- pose she undertook her great work, " The Life of Colonel Hutchinson, by his widow Lucy." This has been rapabfished lately, and the "Edinburgh v" thus closes a notice of the work: "Education is certainly far more generally dif- l in our days, and accomplishments infinitely more common ; but the perusal of this volume has taught us to doubt whether the better sort of women were not fashioned of old, by a purer and more exalted standard; ami whether the most eminent It-male of the present day would not appear to disadvantage by the side of Mrs. Hutcli- in-n. There is something in the dome-tie virtue and calm commanding mind of this English ma- tron, that makes the Corinnes and lleloises appear insignificant. We may safely venture to assert that a nation which produces many such 136 WOMEN OF WORTH. wives and mothers as Mrs. Lucy Hutchinson, must be both great and happy." We should do injustice to the worth of female genius if we omitted to give at least a brief extract from this work of Mrs. Hutchinson. An "Address to her Children" forms the introduction to the memoir. Thus she writes : " I, who am under a command not to grieve at the common rate of desolate women, while I am studying which way to moderate my woe, and, if it were possible, to augment my love, can find out none more just to your dear father, or more con- soling to myself, than the preservation of his mem- ory; which I need not gild with such flattering commendations as the hired preachers equally give to the truly and the nominally honorable ; an un- drest narrative, speaking the simple truth of him, will deck him with more substantial glory than all the panegyrics the best pens could ever consecrate to the virtues of the best men. To number his virtues is to give the epitome of his life, which was nothing else but a progress from one degree of virtue to another. His example was more instruct- ive than the best rules of the moralists ; for his practice was of a more divine extraction, drawn from the word of God, and wrought up by the assistance of his spirit. He had a noble method of government, whether in civil, military, or domestic administrations; which forced love and reverence even from unwilling subjects, and greatly endeared him to the souls of those who rejoiced to be gov- LUCY HUTCIIINSON. 137 erned by him. He had a native majesty that struck awe into the hearts of men, and a sweet greatness that oonnmded love. "His affection for his wife was such, that whoever would form rules of kindness, honor, and religion, to be practised in that state, need no more, but exactly draw out his example. Man never had a greater passion or a more honorable esteem for woman ; yet he was not uxorious, and never remit- ted that ju-t rule which it was her honor to obey; but he managed the reins of government with such prudence and affection, that she who would not deliirht in such honorable and advantageous sub- jection must have wanted a reasonable soul. He governed by persuasion, which he never employed but in things profitable to herself. He loved her soul better than her countenance ; yet even for her person he had a constant affection, exceeding the common temporary passion of fond fools. If he ued her at a higher rate than she deserved, he was himself the author of the virtue he doated on; for she was but a faithful mirror, reflecting truly, but dimly, his own glories upon him. When she ceased to be young and lovely, he showed her tin; most tenderness. He loved her at such a kind and generous rate as words cannot express; yet ev.-u this, which was the highest love any man could have, was bounded by a superior feeling; he regarded her, not as his idol, but as his fellow 138 WOMEN OF WORTH. creature in the Lord, and proved that such a feel- ing exceeds all the irregularities in the world." Mrs. Hutchinson brought up her children and lived to see some of them married. The time of her decease is not known. ISABEL THE CATHOLIC. 13J> THE FRIEND OF COLUMBUS. ISABEL THE CATHOLIC. To judge aright of the merits of Isabel the Catholic as an administratrix of public affairs, in virtue of which, and of her queenly arts and endowments, she became so firmly fixed in the hearts and affec- fher subjects, it will be necessary to take a irlance at the hi^h state of prosperity and political consequence enjoyed by the kingdom of Castile pn-vious to the accession of the house of Trasta- mara, in 1368, and of the causes of the subsequent decline of its glory among the nations, and the condition to which it had been reduced by long of misrule, at the commencement of her iin>-t au-piri VI. was slain when only eleven, fighting. manfully in the ranks. Kver sine.- that memorable day on, which St. .Tamrs hail been seen hovering in the air, mounted on a milk-whito steed, leading on to victory, and M'_: aloft the banner of the cross, when seventy thousand intidda fe41 on the field, the name of St, 142 WOMEN OF WORTH. Jago had been the war-cry of the Spaniards ; and, in imitation of the military apostle, their patron saint, priests militant went forth with the crucifix in their hands, leading on the soldiers to battle. In an age holding wealth in contempt, these war- like prelates amassed enormous riches, for when a town was rescued from the infidel, some ancient religious establishment must be supported, or a new one founded. The Archbishop of Toledo, primate of Spain, and grand chancellor of Castile, besides his immense revenues, could muster a greater number of vassals than any other subject, and had jurisdiction over fifteen large and populous towns. One lady-abbess of Castile had jurisdiction over fourteen capital towns, and more than fifty smaller places, and ranked next to the queen in dignity. Amusing and almost incredible stories are told of the luxurious banquetings of the nobles and prelates, while the king had often neither money nor credit. One bond of union alone ex- isted between prince and people. Hand to hand they joined against the infidel, but every man's hand was also against his neighbor ; and when at length the Moors were repulsed within the king- dom of Granada, and nearly a century of long minorities, or now weak and now vicious rule, \vas the fate of Castile, bitterly came then to be felt the evil effects of such an unnatural division of inter- ests. The sacred name of law became a by-word. Rapine, murder, and incendiarism spread terror and desolation through the land. The insolent ISABEL THE CATHOLIC. 143 nobles not only waged open war with each other, but converted their castles into dens of robbers, plundering tlu traveler, and publicly selling his property in the cities. One robber chieftain carried mi an infamous traffic with the Moors, selling to them as slaves Christian prisoners of both sexes. Every farm (dehesa, meaning protected ground) was a fortress, and it was in nearly hopeless des- pondency that the agriculturist committed the seed to the earth. So shameless was the adulteration of the coin, that the most common article was en- hanced four and even six fold in value. One sov- ereign tried oppressive acts, a return to arbitrary taxation, and interference with freedom of election; while another turned a deaf ear to the groans of \\\< people by giving himself up to the chase. Such at the birth of Isabel was the wretched state of the fertile and lieautiful Castile. At Madrigal, a town of Old Castile, on the 22d of April, ll.")i, was born Isabel, daughter of Juan II., by his second consort, a Princess of Portugal. fither dying \\ln-n she was in her fourth year, she, and her brother, Alfonso, who was two years younger, lived in the strictest retirement with their mother, the widowed queen; and the state of seclu- sion and even privation in which she is said to have passed the first ten years of her life, may account for the firmness, as the rigid practices of devotion, from the example of her mother, for the zeal, sprinpn^ up into bigotry and bitter persecution, by which she was afterward so distinguished. 144 WOMEN OF WORTH. When in her seventh year, it was agreed she should marry Prince Ferdinand of Aragon, who was one year younger, both of them the children of second marriages, and neither heir apparent to the two kingdoms. Many events intervened to interrupt this project, and France, Portugal, and England sought her alliance. She was also on the point of being sacrificed to an ambitious and dissolute sub- ject, when relieved by his death. Her biographers extol the wisdom and prudence of her reply when only thirteen, to a proposal for marrying her to the King of Portugal, a widower, with heirs to his throne, that a princess of Castile could not be dis- posed of in marriage without the consent of the cortes. The weak rule of her brother Enrique, doubts as to the legitimacy of his daughter, the death of her brother, Alfonso, caused an offer of the crown to be made to her, which she rejected, declaring she would lay no claim to the title so long as its present possessor lived. Resolving, however, to be no longer thwarted in her desire of marrying Ferdinand, who had been long carrying on a ro- mantic courtship, faithfully recorded in the decades of the ancient chronicler Palencia, she eluded the vigilance of the king's spies, and protected by a body of troops, under the escort of the Archbishop of Toledo, she fled to Valladolid, whence the prince lost no time in following her, traveling with only five attendants, and in strict disguise, sometimes acting as servant to his companions. The first interview realized the expectations 1SARI I. Till: CATHOLIC. 145 finned on both sides. Isabel was then in hernine- te.-nth year, ami is described as inheriting from Catharine of Lancaster blue eyes, auburn liair, and a lair complexion; her face regular and pleasing, rather than indicating any very high order of intel- while Ferdinand, though a year younger, \vas of manly form, his limbs strengthened by hard- ship and e\crci>c, his features regular and hand- some, the dark-brown hair on his ample forehead somewhat thinned from the helmet he had worn from his infancy. The prince was greatly inferior in education to Isabel. A soldier from his child- hood, his attainments were limited to reading and writing; and so great was his poverty, ho had to borrow money for the expenses of the nuptials, iiutierre de Cardenas, who, on the entrance of the prince, was the tir>t to point him out to Isabel, ex- claiming, u Kse es, CM- c>" (tins is he), was permit- ted to bear on his shield the letters SS, being like to the sound of thr-e words in Spanish. The marriage was celebrated on the 19th of Oc- tober, 1400, in the presence of Isabel's two prin- cipal adherents, the Archbishop of Toledo and tin; Admiral ot'Ca-tilc, who was also Ferdinand's grand- father, and an assemblage of more than 2,000 per- sons. The young pair being within the forbidden if consanguinity, and the Pope in the in- tsofthe king, a bull of di-pcn>ation was forged by the king of Aragon and the archbishop, the discovery of which was a shock to Isabel, to wh<>-,- honest mind everything like artifice was abhorrent, 10 146 WOMEN OF WORTH. and she could only console herself tJiat it was in good faith she had acted. The princess had long before this been acknowledged by the king, her brother, as heir to the crown, and it was now agreed that she and Ferdinand should reign jointly, but all essential power was vested in her, the prince not even being allowed to quit the kingdom with- out her consent. As future queen of Aragon, a magnificent dower was settled on her. She lost no time in informing the king, her brother, in the most respectful terms, of the step she had taken, but his only reply was, that " he would lay the matter before his council." The weak rule of Enrique lasted yet five years, during which public favor fluctuated between Isa- bel and his daughter, whom he before his death declared to be legitimate, although he had formerly acknowledged Isabel as his heir. But the cortes never having revoked the allegiance they had sworn to her, when the news reached her at Segovia of the king's death, she at once caused herself to be proclaimed queen, Ferdinand being then absent in Aragon. Mounted on a white jennet, she pro- ceeded to the public square, where a throne had been erected on a platform, on ascending which, the royal standard was unfurled, and the herald cried, " Castile, Castile, for the King Don Fer- nando, and his consort the Queen Donna Isabel ;" after which simple ceremony, she returned thanks in the principal church, and the people swore alle- o-iauce to her, but not to the absent Ferdinand; I>AI:KI. THK CATHOLIC. 147 nor does it appear that she demanded this, which ally di-pleased him, that he said to Palencia, " Alfonso, thy learning far exceeds mine ; tell me t ever read in thy histories of any woman acting as the queen has done ? She writes to her husband to return at his leisure, and in his absence causes her-elf to be proclaimed with pomp and cere- mony." / This step, which shows the decided and inde- _ pendent character of the queen, gave rise to a dis- pute of great warmth ; but she was too wary not to see that her soundest policy was union, and with infinite tact she sought to allay his wrath, and to pert them one which treacherously pierced their sides. With one hand she raised and protected prostrate industry, whil-t with the other she dealt against it a blow which paraly/.ed its energies, the effects of which are still felt in that fair and goodly, dark, and bigoted land. It is a relief to turn from such a picture, and behold the queen the joyful mother of a son ; which event took place at Seville, in June, 1478, after an :il of -.-veil yean from the birth of her only other child, a daughter. The child was chri>tfn-d Juan, and we would willingly tell of the three davs' 150 WOMEN OF WORTH. rejoicings, and how at the baptism the church of Santa Maria was hung with satin, and the chapel with brocade ; how the royal babe was carried under a canopy of rich brocade ; and IIOAV the god- mother wore a tabard of crimson silk, lined with damask, which she afterward gave to the king's fool, and a rich brocaded kirtle, embroidered with seed and large pearls, with many other raree shows and wonders, but that space would fail us to re- count them. Soon after this event, the king and queen made a progress through part of her do- minions, Isabel showing her usual firmness and intrepidity ; enforcing relaxed laws ; appointing ex- traordinary judges; on one occasion, to punish an outrage, taking horse alone amidst torrents of rain, before the captains of her guard had time to follow her. In Gallicia alone, where anarchy still ruled, fifty towering strongholds, from which robber chieftains descended like birds of prey to levy black mail on the hapless district beneath, were razed to the ground, and no less than fifteen hundred malefac- tors compelled to fly. In January, 1479, died Juan, King of Aragon. And now proud Castile saw herself mistress of nearly the whole of Spain. Aragon, and indeed all Spain, and even Portugal, had at one tune or other done homage to Castile for their dominions, and this, with the sense of owing their conquests to their personal bravery, had induced among the nobles a proud and inflexible bearing, scarcely to ISABEL THE CATHOUC. 151 be curbed b\ the iron rule of the Austrian dyniisty, and which drew from the Venetian ambassador in the time of Charles V. tin- remark, that "if their ]M>\\vr were ome superior ience, while the fond object of so many hopes lay buried in an early grave. At the age of eighteen, a separate establishment was formed for him, and a council, in imitation of the council of . assembled round him, in which public attairs discussed. The profound wisdom of all this > no comment The queen also sought to in- spire the young nobility with a taste for learning, and invited to her court all, both native and foreign, famed for their scholarship. The following year, the prince was married to Margaret, daughter of Maximilian, Emperor of Germany, afterward the celebrated governess of the Netherlands, and at the same time her brother, the Archduke Philip, to the Princess Juana; but sadly the eye turns from the pa ire which records the fotiviii.'s cele- brated on the occasion of these ill-fated unions, for dismal reverses are at hand. Indeed, from this time to its close, the life of the queen presents an almost constant succession of domestic distresses, only varied by a few brilliant triumphs; her many private \irtm-s Millied, also, by more than one pub- l'>. her unwearied encouragement and protection of Christopher Columbus, she added a new world to her dominions. Hut she signed an edict for the expulsion of the Jews, which wag 154: WOMEN OF WORTH, carried out with merciless severity ; the creatures of luxury dying by the wayside ; the hand of the Christian restrained who would have extended a cup of cold water to the sufferer; mothers and their new-born infants perishing from the pangs of hunger. True, they were permitted to sell their property, but this mercy was in reality a mockery, for, the time being limited, we are told, " a house was given for an ass, and a vineyard for a piece of cloth." Her Christian subjects were forbidden, under severe penalties, from giving shelter or as- sistance to the Jews, who had made a last effort to avert the blow, by offering to the queen thirty thousand ducats for the expenses of the late war, and the sovereigns were hesitating whether to accept their tempting bribe, when the chief inquis- itor, abruptly entering the apartment, drew a cru- cifix from his bosom, saying, " Judas Iscariot sold the Saviour for thirty pieces of silver ; your High- nesses are now selling him for thirty thousand. Behold him here ; take him and barter him as you will ;" and the insane fanatic threw the symbol on the table, and withdrew. Who need tell that mercy fled away, and fanaticism obtained the vic- tory? From the commencement of their reign, Fer- dinand and Isabel had shown an earnest solicitude for the encouragement of commerce and nautical science, as is evinced by a variety of regulations which, however imperfect, from the misconception of the true principles of trade in that day, are suf- I~.M:KI. TIIK CATHOUC. 155 itions of the govern- ment. I'ndcr them, anl indeed under their pre- deoessor> :i> far hack as Henry tlie Third, a con-id- erable t rathe had been carried on with the- western of Africa, from which gold du-t and slaves imported into the city of Seville. The annalist of that city notices the repeated interference of Isabel in behalf of these unfortunate beings, by ordinances tending to secure them a more equal protection of the laws, or opening such social ind ul- might mitigate the hardships of their condition. A misunderstanding gradually arose en the Mibjects of Castile and Portugal, in relation to their respective rights of discovery and commerce on the African coast, which promised a fruitful source of collision between the two crowns ; but which was happily adjusted by an article in the treaty of 1479, that terminated the war of the succes-ion. I'.y this it was settled that the right of traffic and of discovery on the western coast of Africa should be exclusively reserved to the Portu- guese, who in their turn should iv-i<_rn all claims on the Canaries to the crown of Castile. The Spaniards, thus excluded from further progress to <>uth, seemed to have no other opening left for adventure than the hitherto untraveled re- gions of the great wi -tern ocean. Fortunately, at this juncture, an individual appeared among them, in the person of Christopher Columbus, endowed with capacity for stimulating them to 'this heroic rprise, and conducting it to a glorious issue. 156 WOMEN OF WORTH. Some of the most striking features cf that great enterprise we shall here bring out. Using for that purpose, in a somewhat condensed form, the graphic narrative of Mr. Prescott, the painstaking and im- partial historian of this notable reign. Columbus was a native of Genoa, of humble parentage, though perhaps honorable descent. He was instructed in his early youth at Pavia, where he acquired a strong relish for the mathematical sciences, in which he subsequently excelled. At the age of fourteen, he engaged in a seafaring life, which he followed with little intermission till 1470. Filled with lofty anticipations of achieving a dis- covery which would settle a question of such mo- ment, so long involved in obscurity, Columbus submitted the theory on which he had founded his belief in the existence of a western route, to King John the Second, of Portugal. Here he was doomed to encounter for the first time the embar- rassments and mortifications which so often obstruct the conceptions of genius, too sublime for the age in which they are formed. After a long and fruitless negotiation, and a dishonorable attempt on the part of the Portuguese to avail themselves clandes- tinely, of his information, he quitted Lisbon in dis- gust, determined to submit his proposals to the Spanish sovereigns, relying on their reputed char- acter for wisdom and enterprise. The period of his arrival in Spain being the latter part of 1484, would seem to have been the most unpropitious possible to his design. The i-.u:i.i. 1111: I-ATIIOLIC. 157 nation was then in tin- heat of the Moorish war, :inl the sovereigns- were unintermittingly engaged, as we have seen, in prosecuting their campaigns, or in active preparation for them. The large expen- diture inri.lciit to this, exhausted all their resources; and indeed the engrossing character of this domes- tic conquest left them little leisure for indulging in dreams of distant and doubtful discovery. "dinand and Isabel, desirous of obtaining the opinion of the most competent judges on the merits of Columlius's theory, referred him to a council 'I liy Talavera, from the most eminent schol- ars of the kingdom, chiefly ecclesiastics, whose pro- fession embodied most of the science of that day. Such was the apathy exhibited by this learned con- clave, and so numerous the impedimenta suggested by dullness, prejudice, or skepticism, that years glided away before it came to a decision. During this time, Columbus appears to have remained in idance on the court, bearing arms occasionally in the campaigns, and experiencing from the sov- ereigns an unusual degree of deference and personal attention; an evidence of which is afforded in the disbursements repeatedly made by the royal order for his private expenses and in the instructions I to the municipalities of the ditlerent towns in Andalusia, to supply him gratuitously with lodg- ing and other personal accommodations. At length, however, Columbus, wearied out by this painful procrastination, pressed the court for a definite answer to his proposition- ; when he was 158 WOMEN OF WORTH. informed that the council of Salamanca pronounced his scheme to be " vain, impracticable, and resting on grounds too weak to merit the support of the government." Many in the council, however, were too enlightened to acquiesce in this sentence of the majority; and the authority of these individuals had undoubtedly great weight with the sovereigns, who softened the verdict of the junto by an assur- ance to Columbus, that, " although they were too much occupied at present to embark in his under- taking, yet, at the conclusion of the war, they should find both time and inclination to treat with him." Such was the ineffectual result of Colum- bus's long and painful solicitation ; and, far from receiving the qualified assurance of the sovereigns in mitigation of their refusal, he seems to have con- sidered it as peremptory and final. In great de- jection of mind, therefore, but without further delay, he quitted the court, and bent his way to the south, with the apparently almost desperate intent of seeking out some other patron to his un- dertaking. Without wasting time in further solicitation, Columbus prepared, with a heavy heart, to bid adieu to Spain (1491), and carry his proposals to the king of France, from whom he had received a letter of encouragement while detained in Anda- lusia. His progress, however, was arrested at the con- vent of La Rabida, which he visited previous to his departure, by his friend the guardian, who pre- ISABKL THE CATHOLIC. 159 i on him to postpone his journey till another etlort had been made to move the Spanish court in his favor. For this purpose the worthy ecclesiastic undertook an expedition in person to the ncwly- iy of Santa Fe, where the sovereigns lay encamped he fore Granada. Juan Perez had for- merly l>eeu confessor of Isabel, and \vas held in great eonsideration by her for his excellent quali- On arriving at the camp he was readily admitted to an audience, when he pressed the suit lumbus with all the earne-tm and reasoning of which he was capable. The friar's eloquence -npported by that of several eminent persons whom Columbus, during his long residence in the country, had interested in his project, and who 1 with sincere regret the prospect of its abandonment. Their representation-, combined with the opportune season of the application, oc- curring :it the moment when the approaching ter initiation of the Moorish war allowed room for interest in other objects, wrought so favorable a in the dispositions of the sovereigns, that consented to resume the negotiation with Columbus. An invitation was accordingly sent to him to repair to Santa Fe, and a considerable sum provided for his suitable equipment, and his ex- penses on the road. Columbus, who lost no time in availing himself of this welcome intelligence, arris cd at the camp in season to witness the snrrend-T of (Iranada, when every heart, swelling with exultation at the 160 WOMEN OF WORTH. triumphant termination of the war, was naturally disposed to enter with greater confidence on a new career of adventure. At his interview with the king and queen, he once more exhibited the argu- ments on which his hypothesis was founded. He then endeavored to stimulate the cupidity of his audience, by picturrag the realms of Mangi and Cathay, which he confidently expected to reach by this western route, in all the barbaric splendors which had been shed over them by the lively fancy of Marco Polo and other travelers of the middle ages ; and he concluded with appealing to a higher principle, by holding out the prospect of extending the empire of the Cross over nations of benighted heathen, while he proposed to devote the profits of his enterprise to the recovery of the Holy Sepul- chre. This last ebullition, which might well have passed for fanaticism in a later day, and given a visionary tinge to his whole project, was not quite so preposterous in an age in which the spirit of the crusades might be said still to linger, and the ro- mance of religion had not yet been dispelled by sober reason. The more temperate suggestion of the diffusion of the gospel was well suited to affect Isabel, in whose heart the principle of devotion was deeply seated, and who, in all her undertak- ings, seems to have been far less sensible to the vulgar impulses of avarice or ambition, than to any argument connected, however remotely, with the interests of religion. Amidst all these propitious demonstrations to- I-AIU I. TilK ( A1I1..I.I.'. I'll .minis, :in obstacle unexpectedly aro-e in tlu- nature <>t' his demands, which stipulated i>r himself and heirs tin- title ami authority of admiral ami vi'-.-:-oy over all land- discovered by him, with ie profits. This was deemed wholly taadmMB&bl& Ferdinand, who had looked with cold distrust on tin- expedition froiu tin- first, was sup- ported by the remonstrances of Tala\ era, the new archbishop of Granada, who declared that "such demands >avi>red of the hi;Iie- t'mction^ due [ his services. This la>t act is perhaps, the nio>t remarkahle exhibition in his whole iife, of that proud, unyielding spirit which .'.led him through so many years of trial, and enabled him at length to achieve his great enter- pri-e, in the face of every obstacle which man and nature iiad opposed to it. The misunderstanding was not sutlered to he of long duration. ('o!uinhu-\ tViend-, and c^p"cially Loui^ de St. Angel, remonstrated with the |ueen on these proceedings in the nut earnest manner. 11 162 WOMEN: OF WORTH. He frankly told her that Columbus's demands, if high, were at least contingent on success, when they would be well deserved ; that, if he failed, he required nothing. He expatiated on his qualifica- tions for the undertaking, so signal as to insure in all probability the patronage of some other mon- arch, who would reap the fruits of his discoveries : and he ventured to remind the queen that her present policy was not in accordance with the magnanimous spirit which had hitherto made her the ready patron of great and heroic enterprise. Far from being displeased, Isabel was moved by his honest eloquence. She contemplated the pro- posals of Columbus in their true light ; and, refus- ing to hearken any longer to the suggestions of cold and timid counselors, she gave way to the natural impulses of her own noble and generous heart. " I will assume the undertaking," said she, " for my crown of Castile, and am ready to pawn my jewels to defray the expenses of it, if the funds in the treasury shall be found inadequate." The treasury had been reduced to the lowest ebb by the late war ; but the receiver, St. Angel, advanced the sums required from the Aragonese revenues deposited in his hands. Aragon, ho \vever, was not considered as adventuring in the expedition, the charges and emoluments of which Avere reserved exclusively for Castile. Columbus, who was overtaken by the royal mes- senger at a few leagues' distance only from Granada, experienced the most courteous reception on his I8ABKL THK CATHOLIC. 103 return to S:uita I-V, \\ 'here a definitive arrangement wa< concluded with the Spanish sovereigns, April 17th, 1 I No sooner were the arrangements completed, than Ivibel prepared with her characteristic prompt- in^ to forward the expedition by the most efficient measures; and on the morning of the :3d of August, 1492, the intrepid navigator, bidding adieu to the Old World, launched forth on that unfathonicd waste of waters where no sail had ever been spread before. While on a review of the circumstances, we are led more and more to admire the constancy and unconquerable spirit which carried Columbus vic- torious through all the difficulties of his undertak- ing, we mu>t remember, in justice to Isabel, that, although tardily, she did in fact furnish the re- pource^ essential to its execution; that she under- took the eiitTpri>e when it had been explicitly de- c-lined by other powers, and when, probaUy, none other of that age would have been- found to coun- tenance it ; and that, after once plighting her faith to Columbus, she became his steady friend, hield- nig liini against the calumnies of his enemies, n- poMi)-_r in him the most generous confidence, and ser\5n<^ him in the most acceptable manner, by supplying ample resources for the pro-edition of his glorious di-coveries. r.--in_r over the well-known incidents of tliis memorable t<.bM .tnuM of UM ISABEL TIIK CATHOLIC. 167 zeal in the illumination of a race of men, whose inimls, far from being wedded to any system of idolatry, were prepared, by their extreme sim- plicity, for the reception of pure and uncorrupted do.-triiie. The last consideration touched Isabel's heart mo>t sensibly; and the whole audience, kindled with various emotions by the speaker's eloquence, filled up the perspective with the gor- geous coloring of their own fancies, as ambition, or avarice, or devotional feeling predominated in their bosoms. When Columbus ceased, the king and queen, together with all present, prostrated themselves on their knees in grateful thanksgivings, while the solemn strains of the Te Deum were poured forth by the choir of the royal chapel, as in commemoration of some glorious victory. It would be beside our present purpose here to enlarge upon the progress of discovery ; the trials of the enthusiastic sailor on his second, third, and fourth voyages ; the misconduct of the colonists ; the complaints against Columbus ; and the igno- minious treatment which he received at the hands of the royal commissioner Bobadilla, before that vain and foolMi man could be withdrawn from an office which he had disgraced. Suffice it to say, that amid-t all his trials and misfortunes the illus- trious discoverer was always comforted by the sympathy of his royal mi-tress. He relied, and not in vain, on the good faith and kindness of Isabel; for, as an ancient CastiKan writer remarks: "She had ever favored him beyond the king her bus- 168 WOMEN OF WOKTH. band, protecting his interests, and showing him especial kindness and goodwill." In connection with the grand episode in the world's history, let it not be forgotten that Isabel's other measures generally were characterized by that practical good sense, without which the most brilliant parts may work more to> the woe than to the weal of mankind. Though engaged all her life in reforms, she had none of the failings so com- mon in reformers. Her plans, though vast, were never visionary. The best proof of this is, that she lived to see the most of them realized. She was quick to discern objects of real utility. She saw the importance of the new discovery of printing, and liberally patronized it from the first moment it appeared. She had none of the exclusive local prejudices too common with her countrymen. She drew talent from the most remote quarters to her dominions by munificent rewards. She im- ported foreign artisans for her manufactures ; for- eign engineers and officers for the discipline of her army; and foreign scholars to imbue her martial subjects with more cultivated tastes. She con- sulted the useful in all her subordinate regulations ; in her sumptuary laws, for instance, directed against the fashionable extravagances of dress, and the ruinous ostentation so much affected by the Castilians in their weddings and funerals. Lastly, she showed the same perspicacity in the selection of her agents ; well knowing that the best measures become bad in incompetent hands. ISABEL T1IK CATHOLIC, 169 In the beginning of 1495, Isabel lost her chief coun-cllor and great favorite, the Cardinal Men- d /.:!, whom she visited on his death-bed, under- taking the office of his executrix, and at whose suggestion she named as his successor Francisco Xiinenes afterward so famous a humble friar of tin- order of St. Francis, who had been for some time the queen's confessor; to whom we are in- debted tor the great monastic reforms introduced into Spain, the queen herself aiding in the work by entering the different cloisters, and, while employed with her needle and distaff, by the force of her ex- ample and her exhortations proving to the idle and dusipatei nuns the beneficial effects of a well-spent lite. Cardinal Ximenes was a man of pure ami ascetic life, a stern, unbending disposition, unboun- ded fanaticism and perseverance, unscrupulous in tin- IHC of means, but untinged by worldly consid- >ns. It was under Isabel's sanction that this man undid in a few months the beneficent work that seven years of peace and a rule of matchless wisdom ami integrity had effect ! in the conquered kingdom of Granada, himself directing that terriMe engine, the Immi>ition, and forcing on an insurrec- tion which was not put down till, at least in name, not a Moor was to be found in the kingdom. lint Christian blood also flowed i n torrents; amongst others fell the brave A^uilar, the fifth lord of his illustrious race who had met death in the field li^htini; against the Moors. \Ve must say a single word as to the beneficent 170 WOMEN OF WOETH. sway of the two eminent men whose labors were thus overthrown. The Count of Tendilla, the military commander, was the very soul of honor ; Talavera, the archbishop, was conspicuous for his Christian virtues. They went hand in hand in every good work. Talavera's maxim was, that the Moors were yet but babes, and must be fed on milk. Though already an old man, he studied Arabic, and translated portions of the Scriptures, to facilitate his work with the infidels, but was very wary in baptizing converts. He spent nearly his entire revenues in public works and alms. In times of scarcity, he several times sold his furni- ture, and his plate was twice bought back by the Count Tendilla, the aged man declaring he would sell it a hundred times to relieve the wants of the people. At another time, he gave away his only mule, saying, "He could not afford to keep her while the poor were hungering." Two hundred and fifty persons fed daily at his table. But we quit the subject, having given only a tithe of the glories and benefits which were now, alas ! brought to naught. He saw the destruction of the people whom he loved as his own soul, but dare not stretch forth a hand to succor them. Soon, how- ever, he was not, for God took him. Isabel, soon after these events, published a decree for the ex- pulsion of all the adult Moors from Castile and Leon, and parents were thus torn from their chil- dren, unless when in despair they embraced the alternative of baptism. It was for such services as ISABEL THE CATHOLIC, 171 that the Pope bestowed on Isabel the title ofCatbofiol NVc have no\v little else to record than a long, va>l li-t nf doinc.-tie losses and trials. Six months after his marriage, anl before the fetes were con- eluded. Prince Juan, who had never been strong, was cut down by fever, in a few days' illness. In her anguish the queen found strength to say, "The Lord hath Driven ami the Lord hath taken away; Hced In- his name!" The whole nation mourned the loss, ainl the court wore sackcloth as mourning, in-tead of the white serge formerly used. The prince's favorite hound, Brutus, followed the corpse to the tomb, and there lay down and died. Hopes were entertained of an heir, but these, too, were blasted by the birth of a still-born child. The Micce->ion now devolved on the queen's eldest daughter, I-abel, who had at this time married the Kiii'4 of Portugal, cousin and successor of her lir>t husband ; but in eighteen months she died in giving birth to a son, a frail little being, who in his second year sank into the grave, as if unable to Mi-tain the triple diadem which hung suspended <>\vr his head. From the shock of these succe>- ive blows, the .jiieen never thoroughly recovered. For time, indeed, after the death of her idolized 1, she hail remained seriously ill. It was with sadness she now saw that her fair inheritance mn-t ml to her daughter .Iiiana, who already showed -\in|>lomsof that weakness ofintellect, which uided in the total loss of rcax.n. In 1500 this unfortunate 172 WOMEN OF WORTH. princess had given birth to a son, afterward the re- nowned Emperor Charles V., and in the following year Philip and Juaria arrived in Spain, and were sworn heirs to the kingdom. Whatever comfort the queen might have had in the society of her daughter, was embittered by her daily-increasing alienation of mind, and by the sight of Philip's open indifference and disrespect toward his wife, who doated on him. Deaf to all arguments, he soon left her, and returned to the Netherlands , and we do not remember reading of any thing more affecting than the inconsolable condition of the unhappy Juana, whose whole soul was centred in her cold, careless husband. She spent her weary days mute and motionless, her eyes fixed on the ground, and not even the birth of her second son, Ferdinand, afterward emperor, had the power of rousing her or assuaging her grief. At length, having received an invitation from her husband, she, in the dreary month of November, and in the queen's absence, went forth on foot, without making the slightest preparation, evidently with the vague intention of joining her husband. Remonstrance being vain, her attendants closed the castle gates, which so infuriated the princess, that, vowing ven- geance, she refused to return to her apartments, and remained uncovered all night at the gates. This went on for some days, all she would concede being to take refuge during the night in a wretched outbuilding used as a kitchen, but there she wa? again at the gates from the dawn of day to its ISABEL THE CATHOLIC. 173 ; and when the queen returned, as fast as her own growing woakm-- would permit, it needed all her influence to per-na-t glory and her deepest misfortune. I -:ibel, now seeing how vain was all opposition, soon suffered her daughter to depart : but grief and fatigue told fatally on her own broken health, and tin- ne\\ - of a disgraceful scene that had occurred between Philip and Juana, in which, in a fit of jealousy, she personally assaulted the fair object of it, and caused the beautiful locks which had t-\i -ited his admiration to be shorn, threw the un- happy queen into a violent fever, which she never entirely threw off. The deepest gloom overspread tin- kingdom. Prayer-, processions, and pilgrim- ages were made for their queen, while an earth- quake aii'l tremendous hurricane \verc to the super- stitious portent- of coming evil. There she lay, at Medina, del Campo, " her whole system pervaded by a consuming fever," while to every Spaniard it 1 as if tin- nation itself were about to pass away with her who was it- greatest '_rli-y. Amidst pain, mental and phy-iral, I-all retained her daunt- :y, and from her couch directed the affairs of her kingdom, which had lately been threatened 174: WOMEN OF WORTH. with a French invasion. She received and con- versed with distinguished foreigners, amongst others the celebrated Prospero Colonna, who said, "he had come to see the woman who, from her couch, governed the world." Isabel died Novem- ber 26, 1504, in the fifty-fourth year of her age. Her last moments were uneheered by the presence of any of her family. In her will were many wise provisions, and much tender mention of Ferdinand, who seems, by his many infidelities and selfish coldness, to have ill requited her constant regard. She desired to be buried with the utmost simpli- city, and in her favorite city of Granada. The funeral procession was assailed by such storms, that three weeks elapsed ere it reached its destina- tion. The swollen mountain torrents tore up the roads ; bridges were carried away, and plains sub- merged. Horses and mules, and more than one of their riders perished. During the whole time, the sad cavalcade saw neither sun nor stars. At length dust to dust, and, in the monastery of St. Isabel, within the glorious Alhambra, lay side by side the conqueror and the conquered. Her re- onains were afterward removed, and placed beside those of Ferdinand, who survived her twelve years, in the mausoleum of the cathedral church of Gra- nada. In the downward progress of things in Spain, some of the most ill-advised measures of her ad- ministration have found favor, and been perpetu- ated, while the more salutary have been forgotten. ISABEL THE CATHOLIC. 175 Thi> may ]c:i-l to a misconception of her real merits. In order to estimate these, we must HsU-:i to the \oice of her oontemponuriea, the eye-wit- nesses of the condition in which she found the . an-1 in whieh she left it. We shall then see hut one judgment formed of her, whether by for- rs or natives. The French and Italian writers equally join in celebrating the triumphant glories of her reign, and her magnanimity, wisdom, and purity of character. Her own subjects extol her as " the most brilliant exemplar of every virtue," anl mourn over the day of her death as "the last of the prosperity and happiness of their country." While tho-e \vho had nearer access to her person are unbounded in their admiration of those amiable qualities, whose full power is revealed only in the unrestrained intimacies of domestic life. The judg- ment of posterity has ratified the sentence of her own age. The mo>t enlightened Spaniards of the present day, by no means insensible to the errors of her government, but more capable of apprecia- ting it> merits than those of a less-instrueted Hire. bear honorable testimony to her deserts ; and, while they pass over the bloated magnificence of 8UC- .'.nx monarehs, \\ho arrest the popular eye, dwell with enthusiasm on Isabel's character, as the most truly great in their line of princes. 176 WOMEN OF WOKTH. THE EARNEST CHRISTIAN. MRS. ELIZABETH HOWE. THE tyrannic measures which Charles H. was in- duced to adopt against the nonconformists, con- signed to the jail of Ilchester, in Somersetshire, Walter Singer, a gentleman of good family, and a dissenting minister, but neither a native nor an inhabitant of the place where he was imprisoned. Mrs. Elizabeth Portness, a pious lady of Ilchester, visited those persons who suffered for conscience sake ; an acquaintance thus began, which ended in marriage when Mr. Singer was released. They had three daughters, two of whom died young. After the death of his wife, Mr. Singer removed from Ilchester to Frome, in the same county, where he ,had an estate. Mr. Singer was firm in his own principles, but tolerant to those of others. He was on terms of friendship with Lord Weymouth, and was fre- quently visited by Bishop Kenn. He brought up his children in his own spirit of charity, and the whole life of his daughter Elizabeth revealed the pure and gentle influence of such teaching. She MRS. ELIZABETH ROWE. 177 was the eldest of his three children, and the only one who lived to an advanced age: of her two M>ters, she lost one in childhood; the other, who h:nl a paion for study, and especially for medi- cine, in which she made considerable proficiency, reached her twentieth year, and died. Elizabeth was born in 1674. She early displayed a great fondness for books, and a taste for poetry and painting, remarkable in one of her years. She was scarcely twelve when she began to write verses ; at a still earlier age, she made attempts hi drawing, and squeezed out the juices of herbs to serve her instead of colors. Mr. Singer procured her a master ; and though she never attained any extraordinary proficiency in this delightful art, it was to her a source of constant pleasure during the whole of her long life. Poetry was, however, the favorite amusement of Elizabeth Singer ; for she does not appear to have ever considered it in any other light. She wrote verses with great facility* but seldom cor- rected her compositions; to whirh >lu> attached little value. Poetry was to her an elegant and har- monious expression of thought ami fueling; but she did not seek, and she certainly did not reach, tint ideal beauty which is at once the delight and < 1 -pair of art. Her temper was, however, essen- tially arti>tic, warm, and overflowing with life. Her conversation is represented as extremely cap- tivating; she made many friends, and kept them all. At the time when her poetic efforts were con- 178 WOMEN OF WORTH. fined to the circle of home, some verses which she wrote drew the attention of the Weymouth family. She was not then twenty ; but this incident was the origin of a long and pleasant friendship. The Honorable Mr. Thynne, son of Lord Weymouth, undertook to teach her the Italian language, in which she made rapid progress. In 1696, being then twenty-two, she published, at the request of her friends, various poems, to which she prefixed the poetical name of Philomela. A paraphrase of the thirty-eighth chapter of Job, written at the suggestion of Bishop Kenn, procured her some reputation. Literary success changed nothing in her calm and domestic life ; the friendship of the polite and the great, found and left her in her quiet home. The happiness which she thus enjoyed was deep, though peaceful. She loved her father with all the tenderness and reverence due to his virtues ; an ex- tract from a letter shows her feelings : " I have ease and plenty to the extent of my wishes, and can form desires of nothing but what my father's indulgence would procure ; and I ask nothing of heaven but the good old man's life. The perfect sanctity of his life, and the benevolence of his tem- per make him a refuge to all in distress, to the widow and fatherless ; the people load him with blessings and prayers when he goes abroad, which he never does but to reconcile his neighbors, or to right the injured and oppressed ; the rest of his hours are entirely devoted to his private devo- MRS. ELIZABETH EOWE. 179 ami to books, which are his perpetual enter- tainment." This excellent man, to whose example his daughter was, no doubt, deeply indebted, died in 1710, in sentiments of great piety. A friend, who witnev-cd his last hours, observed that he set- tled his a Hairs, and took leave of the world, with as much freedom and composure as if he had been setting out on a journey. His great care was to see that the widows and orphans with whose concerns he had been intrusted, might not be in- jured after hi- death. His cheerfulness and sweet- f temper never forsook him; but he some- times felt his pulse, complained that it was still so regular, and smiled with a Christian's triumph at every sign and symptom of approaching death. 1 1 is only surviving daughter was already a widow when this event took place. Her charming coun- tenance, agreeable conversation, and gentle temper, had early M-eured her a sufficient number of ad- mirers; amount the rot, 1'rior, the poet, who an- ie of her pastorals in a very tender strain, and wi>hfl, it is said, to marry her ; but she would not go beyond friendship with him. The young .Mid learned Thomas Kowe was tin- preferred snitor. They were married in 1710; Eli/alieth Singer ln-inir then thirty-six, her husband but twenty- three. Time, whieh had not taken t'rmii her the simplicity and purity of youth, had left her its Hess and comely aspect ; without being a p r- l'.-et beauty, she was extremely attractive. She had hair of a fine auburn hue; eyes of a deep grey, in- 180 WOMEN OF WORTH. clining to blue, and full of fire; her complexion was exquisitely pure ; her voice soft and harmo- nious. The passion which her husband felt for her was both ardent and sincere; her gentleness, her compliance with his wishes, the many virtues which he daily witnessed in her life, endeared her to him ; and marriage only increased his affection. They had been united about five years, when a fatal con- sumption, partly brought on by intense study, car- ried him off, in the twenty-eighth year of his age. He died, as he had wished to die, in the arms of his wife. She had attended on him during his ill- ness with devoted affection ; and though she sur- vived him many years, she could not, a short time before her own death, hear his name mentioned without shedding fresh tears at the loss it recalled. It was only to please her husband that Mrs. Rowe had ever lived, even for a time, in London. After his death she indulged her passion for solitude, by residing almost entirely at Frome ; where, like her father, she devoted her days to piety, good deeds, and books. She gave little time to dress, none to play or pleasure ; her leisure was devoted to lite- rary works of a moral character, and to labors of charity. She was constantly engaged in making garments for the poor ; she did so not only for the natives of the lower Palatinate, when the war drove them from their country, but also for whosoever around her needed such aid. She visited the sick, and instructed poor children; or caused them to be instructed at her expense. She never went out MRS. ELIZABETH EOWE. 181 without being provided with coins of different value, to give away to objects of charity. The first sum of money which she received from a publisher was wed on a family in distress, and she once sold a pieee of plate for a similar purpose. She carried her indifference in money matters to an excess ; there was no life she hated so much as the sordid and ungenerous love of gold, and none of which she was less guilty. She let her estates be- neath their real value, and would not even allow unwilling tenants to be threatened with tle seizure of their goods. But another trait of her character seems to us to paint her in a still more amiable light. Mrs. Howe did not confine her charity to the miserable ; she thought that " it was one of the greatest benefits that could be done to man- kind, to free them from the cares and anxieties that attend a narrow fortune ;" and she accordingly made large presents to persons who were not in the ex- tremity of want. There arc few, we believe, who are unable to feel the pleasure which attends the relief of great misery ; but only the most delicate minds, and the most generous hearts, can expe- rience the peculiar gratification which Mrs. Rowe found in relieving, not mere ph\>i<-:il distress, but also those many painful cares which are the tor- ment of poverty, as distinguished from want. The solitude in which Mrs. Rowe lived did not ale her from many valued friends. Her name occurs frequently in the pleasant letters addressed by the Countess of Hartford to Dr. Isaac Watts ; 182 WOMEN OF WORTH. and when this eminent man edited her " Devout Exercises of the Heart," it was to the countess that he dedicated them. All the poetical ardor which characterized Mrs. Rowe's turn of mind appears in this work ; once widely popular, and still read by those who are not tempted to smile at the mys- ticism of a pure and pious heart. Tenderness and enthusiasm are essential to the religion of woman : that of man is more properly belief; hers is love. We will make no extracts from the Devout Exer- cises, but we will transcribe from Mrs. Rowe's secret effusions a page which needs no comment. " I consecrate half of my yearly income to char- itable uses ; and though by this, according to hu- man appearances, I have reduced myself to some necessity, I cast all my care on that gracious God to whom I am devoted, and to whose truth I sub- scribe with my hand. I attest his faithfulness, and bring in my testimony to the veracity of his word ; I set to my seal that God is true ; and O, by the God of truth, I swear to perform this, and beyond this All that I have, beyond the bare con- venience and necessity of life, shall surely be the Lord's ; and O grant me sufficiency, that I may abound in every good work! O let me be the messenger of consolation to the poor ! Here I am, Lord ; send me. Let me have the honor to admin- ister to the necessities of my brethren. I am, in- deed, unworthy to wipe the feet of the least of the servants of my Lord, much more unworthy of this glorious commission ; and yet, send me, for thy MRS. ELIZABETH ROWE. 183 goodness is free. Send whom thou wilt on em- bassies to kings and rulers of the earth, but let me In- :t M-i-vaiit to the servants of my Lord. Let me admini>ter tu the afflicted members of my exalted and glorious Redeemer. Let this be my lot, and I give the glories of the world to the wind." This sok'iim vow, which, as Mrs. Rowe herself expressed it, in another part of her manuscripts, " was not made in an hour of fear and distress, but in the joy and gratitude of her soul," was reli- giou>ly fullilU'il, i-veii when it exposed her to much personal inconvenience. To the end of her life, the poor Stared with her in those blessings which she held from the bounty of God. In 1736, her health began to fail. She prepared herself lor death in that cheerful spirit with which she had livi.l. There seemed, however, no imme- iliate caue lor fear. After spending an evening in friendly conversation, she went up to her room; where, shortly afterward, her servant found her in the agonies of death. She was, according to her re(jue>t, quietly buried by the side of her lather, in their place of worship at Froine. Like him, she was lamented by all those who had known her, and by none more than the poor. Amount lier papers \\i re found several letters addrevM-.l to valued friends. They express, in ardent and confident language, the belief that, like the spirit, the affec- tion.- are immortal. To the end, the religion of Klix-ibeth Rowe remained a religion of love. To l<.\e God and his creatures had been her delight 184 WOMEK OF WORTH. on earth, and she hoped to do both in heaven. As she fervently expresses it, "That benignity, that divine charity, which just warms the soul in these cold regions, will shine with new lustre, and burn with an eternal ardor in the happy seats of peace and love." MARIA THERESA. 1S5 THE STAK OF AUSTRIA. MARIA THERESA, ARCHDUCHESS of Austria, Queen of Hungary and Bohemia, and Empress of Germany, born in 1717, was the eldest daughter of Charles VI. of Austria, Emperor of Germany. In 1724, Charles, by his will, known as the Pragmatic Sanction, regulated the order of succession in the house of Austria, declaring that in default of malt- i-sue, his eldest daughter should be heiress of all the Austrian dominions, and her children after her. The Prag- matic Sanction was guaranteed by the diet of the empire, and by all the German princes, and by several powers of Europe, but not by the Bour- bons. In 17'SG, Maria Theresa married Francis of Lorraine, who, in 1737, became Grand-duke of Tuscany; and in 1739, Francis, with his consort, repaired to Florence. I'pon the death of Charles VL, in 1740, the ruling powers of Prussia, Bavaria, Saxony, France, Spain, and Sardinia, agreed to dismember the Au<- trian monarchy, to portions of which each laid 186 WOMEN OF WOETH. claim. Maria Theresa, however, went immediately to Vienna, and took possession of Austria, Bohemia, and her other German states ; she then repaired to Presburg, took the oaths to the constitution of Hungary, and was solemnly proclaimed queen of that kingdom hi 1741. Frederic of Prussia offered the young queen his friendship on condition of her giving up to him Silesia, which she resolutely re- fused, and he then invaded that province. The Elector of Bavaria, assisted by the French, also invaded Austria, and pushed his troops as far as Vienna. Maria Theresa took refuge in Presburg, where she convoked the Hungarian diet ; and ap- pearing in the midst of them with her infant son in her arms, she made a heart-stirring appeal to their loyalty. The Hungarian nobles, drawing their swords, unanimously exclaimed, "Moriamur pro Rege nostro, Maria Theresa !" " We will die for our queen, Maria Theresa." They raised an army and drove the French and Bavarians out of the hereditary states. What would have been their reflections could those brave loyal Hungarians have foreseen that, in little more than a century, a descendant of this idolized queen would trample on their rights, overthrow their constitution, mas- sacre the nobles and patriots, and ravage and lay waste their beautiful land ! Well would it be for men to keep always in mind the warning of the royal Psalmist, " Put not your trust in princes." In the mean time, Charles Albert, Elector of Bavaria, was chosen Emperor of Germany, by the MARIA THERESA. 187 diet assembled at Frankfort, under the name of Charles VII. Frederic nt' PruMa soon made peace with Maria Theresa, who was obliged to surrender Silesia to him. In 174"), Charles VII. died, and Francis, Maria Theresa's husband, was elected emperor. In 1748, the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle terminated tin- war of the Austrian succession, and Maria Theresa was left in possession of all her hereditary dominions, except Silesia. In 1756, began the Seven Years' war between France, Austria, and Russia, on one side, and Prussia on the other. It ended in 1763, leaving Austria and Prussia with the same boundaries as before. In 1765, Maria Theresa lost her husband, for whom she wore mourning till her death. Her son Joseph was elected emperor. She however retained the administration of the govern- Illrlit. The only act of her political life with which she can be reproached is her participation in the first partition of Poland ; and this she did very unwil- lingly, only when she was told that Russia and Pru>-ia would not regard her disapproval, and that her refusal would endanger her own dominions. The improvements Maria Theresa made in her dominions were many and important. She aboK i>ln-d torture, al-o the rural and personal services the peasants of Bohemia owed to their feudal -i;pc . She founded or enlarged in different parts of her exteii-ive dominions several academies for the improvement of the arts and science-; i 188 WOMEN OF WOETH. tuted numerous seminaries for the education of all ranks of the people ; reformed the public schools, and ordered prizes to be distributed among the students who made the greatest progress in learn- ing, or were distinguished for propriety of behav- ior, or purity of morals. She established prizes for those who excelled in different branches of manu- facture, in geometry, mining, smelting metals, and even spinning. She particularly turned her atten- tion to agriculture, which, on a medal struck by her order, was entitled the "Art which nourishes all other arts ;" and founded a society of agricul- ture at Milan, with bounties to the peasants who obtained the best crops. She took away the per- nicious rights which the convents and churches enjoyed of affording sanctuary to all criminals without distinction, and in many other ways evin- ced her regard for the welfare of the people. Al- though she was a pious and sincere Roman Catholic, not a blind devotee, but could discriminate between the temporal and spiritual jurisdiction. She put a check on the power of the Inquisition, which was finally abolished during the reign of her sons. She possessed the strong affection of her Belgian sub- jects ; and never was Lombardy so prosperous or tranquil as under her reign. The population in- creased from 900,000 to 1,130,000. During her forty years' reign she showed an undeviating love of justice, truth, and clemency; and her whole con- duct was characterized by a regard for propriety and self-respect. MARIA THERESA. 189 la There-a wa-, in In T youth, exceedingly beautiful; and she retained the majesty, grace, and uri- of queenly attractiveness to the close of IH r life. Slu- was sincere in her affection for her Im-baml, and never marred the power of her love- line-s by artifice or coquetry. She used her gifts ami graces not for the gratification of her own vanity, to win lovers, but as a wise sovereign to ^ain over refractory subjects; and she succeeded: tlius showing how potent is the moral strength \uth which unman is endowed. This queen has Hired for what was styled "neglect of her children." .Maria Theresa was the mother of sixteen chil- Irm, all born within twenty years. There is every reason to suppose that her naturally warm affection, and her strong sense, would have rendered her, in a private station, an admirable, an exemplary pa- rent ; and it was not her fault, but rather her mis- fortune, thai >h' ua- placed in a situation where tli.- nx>-t >a-rel duties and feelings of her eex became in some measure secondary. While her numerous family were in their infancy, the einpiv>> wu constantly and exclusively occupied in the public duties and cares <>i' her high station; the :uTairs of government demanded almost every mo- ment of her time. The court physician, You I <>ii her each morning at her levee, ami brought her a minute report of the health of the princes ami prince>-es. If one of them was in- di>poM'd, the mother, laying aside all other cares, 190 WOMEN OF WOKTH. immediately hastened to their apartment. They all spoke and wrote Italian with elegance and facility. Her children were brought up with extreme simplicity. They were not allowed to indulge in personal pride or caprice ; their benevolent feelings were cultivated both by precept and example. They were sedulously instructed in the " Lives of the Saints," and all the tedious forms of unmeaning devotion, in which, according to the sincere con- viction of their mother, all true piety consisted. A high sense of family pride, an unbounded devotion to the house of Austria, and to their mother, the empress, as the head of that house, was early im- pressed upon their minds, and became a ruling passion, as well as a principle of conduct with all of them. We have only to glance back upon the history of the last fifty years to see the result of this mode of education. We find that the children of Maria Theresa, transplanted into different countries of Europe, carried with them their national and fam- ily prejudices ; that some of them, in later years, supplied the defects of their early education, and became remarkable for talent and for virtue ; that all of them, even those who were least distin- guished and estimable, displayed occasionally both goodness of heart and elevation of character ; and that their filial devotion to their mother, and what they considered her interests, was carried to an excess, which in one or two instances proved fatal to themselves. Thus it is apparent that her mater- MARIA THERESA. 191 nal duties were not neglected: had this been the -In- could never have acquired such unbounded influence' over IUT children. MariaThere-a liad long been accustomed to look death in the face; ami when the hour of trial came, her resignation, her fortitude, and her humble trust in heaven, never failed her. Her agonies during thr last ten days of her life were terrible, but never drew from her a single expression of complaint or impatience. She was only apprehensive that her reason and her physical strength might fail her together. She was onoe heard to say, ** God grant that these sufferings may soon terminate, for other- wise, I know not if I can much longer endure them." After receiving the last sacraments, she sum- moned all her family to her presence, and solemnly recommended them to the care of the Emperor Jn-e|ih, her eld^t son. " My son," said she, "as you are the heir to all my worldly possessions, I cannot dispose of them ; but my children are still, as they have ever been, my own. I bequeath them to you; be to them a father. I shall die contented if you promise to take that office upon you." She then turned to her son Maximilian and her daugh- l.le->i->tant to her hu>land. In their tastes and pursuit*, in their opinions and feel- ings, they became entirely one. She managed his household
  • n-eetiy, t-ilucateil their ehiMreti judi- ciously, and entered into all his benevolent plans with earnestness and prudence. 198 WOMEN OF WORTH. She died suddenly, in January, 1784, a few weeks after the birth of her ninth and last child. Her death was deeply mourned in the Ban de la Roche, for her assistance and sympathy had always been freely offered to the poor and the afflicted. Oberlin survived his wife forty-two years ; but never separated himself from her memory. He devoted several hours every day to thoughts of her ; and held, as he thought, communion with her soul. Thus holy and eternal may be the true love of husband and wife. MADKLMMB OIIKRLIX TIHITINIi TIIB Kl. K. todMd to Wr lfIUat fcmW<, lUr dIh u .ln-pl.T mawiMd hi UM Bun d. U Rocko, lor Wr Ww fi.ly otbtod to Ik* poor Md HklW." l'io IM. LETITIA BARBAULD. 199 THE CHILDREN'S FAVORITE. ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD. To WHOM the cause of rational education is much imk-lit.-.l, was the eldest child, and only daughter, of the Rev. John Aiken, D.D. She waa bom on the 20th of June, 1743, at Kibworth Harcourt, in Leicestershire, England, where her father was at that time master of a boys' school. From her childhood she manifested great quickness of intel- lect, and her eluc:itiun was conducted with inu. h ran- l>y li.-r parents. In 1773, she was induced to publish a volume of her poems, and within the yi-ar lour editions of the work were called for. In the same year she published, in conjunction with her brother, Dr. Aiken, a volume called " Miscel- laneous Pieces in Prose." In 1774, Miss Aiken nurried the- Kev. Koehemont Darbauld, :i dissen- ting minister, descended from a family of French Protestants. lie had charge, at that time, of a -.ration at Tal^rave, in Suffolk, where he also 'd a boarding-school for boys, the success of which is, in a great measure, to be attributed to Mrs. Barbauld's exertions. She also took several 200 WOMEN OF WOKTH. very young boys as her own entire charge, among whom were Lord Denman, afterward Chief Justice of England, and Sir William Gell. It was for these boys that she composed her " Hymns in Prose for Children." In 1775, she published a volume en- titled, "Devotional Pieces, compiled from the Psalms of David," with " Thoughts on the Devo- tional Taste, and on Sects and Establishments;" and also her " Early Lessons," which still stands unrivaled among children's books. In 1786, after a tour on the continent, Mr. and Mrs. Barbauld established themselves at Hampstead, and there several tracts proceeded from the pen of our authoress on the topics of the day, in ah 1 which she espoused the principles of the Whigs. She also assisted her father in preparing a series of tales for children, entitled "Evenings at Home," and she wrote critical essays on Akenside and Col- lins, prefixed to editions of their works. In 1802, Mr. Barbauld became pastor of the congregation (formerly Dr. Price's) at Newington Green, also in the vicinity of London; and, quitting Hampstead, they took up their abode in the village of Stoke Newington. In 1803, Mrs. Barbauld compiled a selection of essays from the " Spectator," " Tatler," and "Guardian," to which she prefixed a prelimi- nary essay ; and, in the following year, she edited the correspondence of Richardson and wrote an interesting and elegant life of the lovelist. Her husband died in 1808, and Mrs. Bai auld has re- corded her feelings on this melanchoiy event in a ANNA LETT! I A BARBAULD. 201 poetical dirge to his memory, and also in her poem .f Eighteen Hundred and Eleven." Seeking re- lief in literary occupation, she also edited a collec- tion of tin- Uritish novelists, published in 1810, with an introductory essay, and biographical .'Hid critical not ires. After a gradual decay, this accom- . plished and excellent woman died on the 9th of March, 1-125. Some of the lyrical pieces of Mrs. Harhauld are flowing and harmonious, and her "Ode to Spring" is a happy imitation of Collins. She wrote also several poems in blank verse, cha- ractrri/.fd by a serious tenderness and elevation of thought "Il.r earliest pieces," says her niece, Lucy Aiken, "as well as her more recent ones, exhibit, in their imagery and allusions, the fruits of extensive and varied reading. In youth, the power of her imagination was counterbalanced by the activity of her intellect, which exercised itself in rapid but not unprofitable excursions over almost every tield of knowledge. In age, when this activity alatet thing to be con-id. ---i d, with re-pect to .tion, i- the ol.jert of it. This appe.ir- to me to have lii-en generally misunderstood. Education, in its larp-t -ii-,'. i* a thing of great scope and extent. It include* the \vh..]e process by which a human bcini; r- formed to be what he is, in halits, principle-, and i-ultivation of every kind. But of thi-, a \ery >mall part i> in tlie power even of the parent him-flf; a smaller still can lie dirceti-d by purchased tuiiion oi' any kind. You engage for 206 WOMEN OF WORTH. your child masters and tutors at large salaries ; and you do well, for they are competent to instruct him ; they will give him the means, at least, of ac- quiring science and accomplishments; but in the business of education, properly so called, they can do little for you. Do you ask, then, what will educate your son? Your example will educate him; your conversation with your friends; the business he sees you transact ; the likings and dis- likings you express ; these will educate him ; the society you live in will educate him ; your domes- tics will educate him; above all, your rank and situation in life, your house, your table, your pleas- ure-grounds, your hounds and your stables will educate him. It is not in your power to withdraw him from the continual influence of these things, except you were to withdraw yourself from them also. You speak of beginning the education of your son. The moment he was able to form an idea his education was already begun ; the educa- tion of circumstances insensible education which, like insensible perspiration, is of more constant and powerful effect, and of infinitely more consequence to the habit, than that which is more direct and apparent. This education goes on at every instant of time ; it goes on like time ; you can neither stop it nor turn its course. What these have a tendency to make your child, that he will be. Maxims and documents are good precisely till they are tried, and no longer ; they will teach him to talk, and nothing more. The circumstances in which your ANNA LKT1TJA BARBAtJLD. 207 Bon is place. 1 will be even more prevalent than your example ; and you have no right to expect him to become what you yourself are, but by the same means. You, that have toiled during youth, to set your son upon higher ground, and to enable him to begin where you left off, do not expect that son to b what you were diligent, modest, active, sim- ple in his tastes, fertile in resources. You have put him under quite a different master. Poverty educated you; wealth will educate him. You can- not suppose the result will be the same. You must not even expect that he will be what you now are ; for though relaxed perhaps from the severity of your frugal habits, you still derive advantage from having formed them ; and, in your heart, you like plain dinners, and early hours, and old friends, whenever your fortune will permit you to enjoy them. But it will not be so with your son: his tastes will be formed by yonr pre-erit situation, and in no degree by your former one. Hut I take great care, you will say, to counteract these ten- dencies, and to bring him up in hardy and simple manners ; I know their valne, and am resolved that he shall acquire no other. Yes, you make him hardy; that is to say, you take a counting-house in a good air, and make him run, well clothed and carefully attended, for, it may be, an hour in a clear frosty winter's day upon your graveled ter- race; or perhaps you take the puny shivering in- fant from his warm lied, and dip him in an icy-cold bath, and you think you have done great ma: 208 WOMEN OF WOKTH. And so you have ; you have done all you can. But you were suffered to run abroad half the day on a bleak heath, in weather fit and unfit, wading bare- foot through dirty ponds, sometimes losing your way benighted, scrambling over hedges, climbing trees, in perils every hour both f life and limb. Your life was of very little consequence to any one ; even your parents, encumbered with a nu- merous family, had little time to indulge the soft- nesses of affection, or the solicitude of anxiety; and to every one else it was of no consequence at all. It is not possible for you, it would not even be right for you, in your present situation, to pay no more attention to your child than was paid to you. In these mimic experiments of education, there is always something which distinguishes them from reality; some weak part left unfortified, for the arrows of misfortune to find their way into. Achil- les was a young nobleman, dios Achilleus, and therefore, though he had Chiron for his tutor, there was one foot left undipped. You may throw by Rousseau ; your parents practised without having read it ; you may read, but imperious circumstances forbid you the practice of it. You are sensible of the advantages of simplicity of diet ; and you make a point of restricting that of your child to the plainest food, for you are re- solved that he shall not be nice. But this plain food is of the choicest quality, prepared by your own cook; his fruit is ripened from your walls; his cloth, his glasses, all the accompaniments of the ANNA LETTTIA BABBAULD. 209 table, are such as are only met with in families of opulence; the very servants who attend him are neat, well , in the tir-t place, will not be SO sweet anl mnli>turl>e.l amidst the rattle of carriages, and the glare of tapers glancing through the rooms, as that of the village child in his quiet cottage, protected by and darkness; and moreover, yon may de- ujMtn it, that as the coercive power of educa- tion is laid aside, they will in a few months slide 14 210 WOMEN" OF WOKTH. into the habitudes of the rest of the family, whose hours are determined by their company and situa- tion iu life. You have, however, done good, as far as it goes; it is something gained, to defer per- nicious habits, if we cannot prevent them. There is nothing which has so little share in education as direct precept. To be convinced of this, we need only reflect that there is no one point we labor more to establish with children, than that of their speaking truth ; and there is not any in which we succeed worse. And why? Because children readily see we have an interest in it. Their speaking truth is used by us as an engine of government "Tell me, my dear child, when you have broken any thing, and I will not be angry with you." ** Thank you for nothing," says the child ; " if I prevent you from finding it out, I am sure you will not be angry :" and nine times out of ten he can prevent it. He knows that, in the common intercourses of life, you tell a thousand falsehoods. But these are necessary lies on im- portant occasions. Your child is the best judge how much occasion he has to tell a He : he may have as great occasion for it as you have to conceal a bad piece of news from a sick friend, or to hide your vexation from an unwelcome visitor. That authority which ex- tends its claims over every action, and even every thought, which insists upon an answer to every in- terrogation, however indiscreet or oppressive to the feelings, will, in young or old, produce falsehood ; ANNA, l.l.n 1I\ BABBAULD. 211 or, if in some few instances the deeply-imbibed fear of futun- and unknown punishment should restrain from direct falsehood, it will produce a habit of div-iimilation, which is still worse. The child, the , or the subject, who, on proper occasions, may not say, " I do not choose to tell," will certainly, by the circumstances in which you place him, be driven to have recourse to deceit, even should he not be countenanced by your example. I do not mean to assert that sentiments incul- cated in education have no influence ; they have much, though not the most: but it is the senti- ments we let drop occasionally, the conversation they overhuir when playing unnoticed in a corner of the room, which has an effect upon children ; and not what is addressed directly to them in the tone of exhortation. If you would know precisely the efll'ct these set discourses have upon your child, be pleased to reflect upon that which a discourse from tin.- pulpit, which you have reason to think merely prot'.-v-ioiial, has upon you. Children have alnuM an intuitive discernment between the max- ims you bring forward for their \i>e, and those by which you direct your own conduct. Be as cun- ning as you will, they arc- alway> more cunning than you. Every child knows whom his father and mother love and see with pleasure, and whom they dislike; for whom they think themselves ob- liged to set out their best plate and china; whom they think it an honor to visit, and upon whom they confer honor by admitting them to their com- 212 WOMEN OF WOKTH. pany. " Respect nothing so much as virtue," says Eugenic to his son; "virtue and talents are the only grounds of distinction." The child presently has occasion to inquire why his father pulls off his hat to some people and not to others ; he is told, that outward respect must be proportioned to dif- ferent stations in life. This is a little difficult of comprehension: however, by dint of explanation, he gets over it tolerably Avell. But he sees his father's house in the bustle and hurry of prepara- tion ; common business laid aside, everybody in movement, an unusual anxiety to please and to shine. Nobody is at leisure to receive his caresses or attend to his questions ; his lessons are inter- rupted, his hours deranged. At length a guest arrives : it is my Lord , whom he has heard you speak of twenty times as one of the most worthless characters upon earth. Your child, Eugenio, has received a lesson of education. Re- sume, if you will, your systems of morality on the morrow, you will in vain attempt to eradicate it. "You expect company, mamma: must I be dressed to-day ?" " No, it is only good Mrs. Such-a-one." Your child has received a lesson of education, one which he well understands, and will long remem- ber. You have sent your child to a public school ; but to secure his morals against the vice which you too justly apprehend abounds there, you have given him a private tutor, a man of strict morals and re- ligion. He may help him to prepare his tasks ; but do you imagine it will be in his power to form his ANNA LEITTIA BARBAULD. 213 mind ? His school-fellows, the allowance you give him, the manners of the age and of the place, will do that ; ami not the lectures which he is obliged to hear. If these are different from what you yourself experienced, you must not be surprised to Bee him gradually recede from the principles, civil and religious, which you hold, and break off from your connections, and adopt manners different from your own. This is remarkably exemplified amongst those of the Dissenters who have risen to wealth and consequence. I believe it would be difficult to find an instance of families, who for three genera- tions have kept their carriage and continued Pis* senters. i Education, it is often observed, is an expensive thing. It is so; but the paying for lessons is the smallest part of the cost. If you would go to the price of having your son a worthy man, you must be so yourself; your friends, your servants, your company must bo all of that stamp. Suppose this, to be the case, much is done: but there will remain circumstances which perhaps you cannot alter, that will still have their effect. Do you wish him to love simplicity? Would you be content to lay down your coach, to drop your title ? Where ia the parent who would do this to educate his son ? You carry him to the workshops of artisans, and show him different machines and fabrics, to awaken his ingenuity. The necessity of getting his bread would awaken it much more effectually. The single circumstance of having a fortune to get, or a fortune 214 WOMEN OF WORTH. to spend, will probably operate more strongly upon his mind, not only than your precepts, but even than your example. You wish your child to be modest and unassuming; you are so, perhaps, yourself and you pay liberally a preceptor for giving him lessons of humility. You do not per- ceive, that the very circumstance of having a maa of letters and accomplishments retained about his person, for his sole advantage, tends more forcibly to inspire him with an idea of self-consequence than all the lessons he can give him to repress it. " Why do not you look sad, you raseal ?" says the under- taker to his man in the play of ' The Funeral ;' " I give you I know not how much money for looking sad, and the more I give you, the gladder I think you are." So will it be with the wealthy heir. The lectures that are given him on. condescension, and affability, only prove ta him upon how much higher ground he stands than those about him; and the very pains that are taken with his moral character will make him proud, by showing him how much he is the object of attention. You can- not help these things. Your servants, out of re- spect to you, will bear with his petulance ; your company, out of respect to you, will forbear to check his impatience^ And you yourself, if he is clever, will repeat his observations. In the exploded doctrine of sympathies, you are directed, if you have cut your finger, to let that alone, and put your plaster upon the knife. This is very bad doctrine, I must confess, in philosophy ; ANNA LETTTIA BARBAULD. 215 but very good in morals. Is a man luxurious, self-indulgent? do not apply your physic of the sold to him, but cure his fortune. Is he haughty? cure his rank, his title. Is he vulgar? cure his company. Is he diffident or mean-spirited ? cure his poverty, give him consequence but these pre- scriptions go far beyond the family recipes of edu- cation. What then is the result? In the first place, that wo should contract our ideas of education, and expect no more from it than it is able to perform. It can give instruction. There will always be an essential difference between a human being culti- vated and uncultivated. Education can provide proper instructors in the various arts and sciences, and portion out to the best advantage those pre- cious hours of youth which never will return. It can like \\i-f give, in a great degree, personal habits; and even if these should afterward give way under the influence of contrary circumstances, your child will feel the good effects of them, for the later and the less will he go into what ia wrong. Let us also be assured that the business of education, properly so called, is not transferable. You may engage masters to instruct your child in this or the other accomplishment, but you must educate him yourself. You not only ought to do it, but you must do it, whether you intend it or no. As education is a thing necessary for all ; for the poor and for the rich, for the illiterate as well as for the learned ; Providence has not made it do- 216 WOMEN OF WORTH. pendent upon systems uncertain, operose, and diffi- cult of investigation. It is not necessary, with Rousseau or Madame Genlis, to devote to the edu- cation of one child the talents and the time of a number of grown men ; to surround him with an artificial world ; and to counteract, by maxims, the natural tendencies of the situation he is placed in in society. Every one has time to educate his child : the poor man educates him while working in his cottage the man of business, while em- ployed in his counting-house. Do we see a father who is diligent in his profes- sion, domestic in his habits, whose house is the resort of well-informed intelligent people a mother whose time is usefully filled, whose attention to her duties secures esteem, and whose amiable manners attract affection ? Do not be solicitous, respectable couple, about the moral education of your offspring ; do not be uneasy because you cannot surround them with the apparatus of books and systems ; or fancy that you must retire from the world to de- vote yourselves to their improvement. In your world they are brought up much better than they could be under any plan of factitious education which you could provide for them ; they will imbibe affection from your caresses ; taste from your con- versation; urbanity from the commerce of your society ; and mutual love from your example. Do not regret that you are not rich enough to provide tutors and governors to watch his steps with sedu- lous and servile anxiety, and furnish him with max- ANNA LKTITIA BABBAULD. 217 ims it is morally impossible he should act upon when grown up. Do not you see how seldom this over-culture produces its effect, and how many shining :uielf- ( -i.n.,.,ju.-nc', disappointed ambition, loss of fortune this is tin- rough physic provided by 218 WOMEN OF WORTH. Providence to meliorate the temper, to correct the offensive petulances of youth, and bring out all the energies of the finished character. Afflictions sof- ten the proud ; difficulties push forward the inge- nious ; successful industry gives consequence and credit, and develops a thousand latent good qual- ities. There is no malady of the mind so inveter- ate, which this education of events is not calculated to cure if life were long enough ; and shall we not hope that He, in whose hand are all the remedial processes of nature, will renew the discipline in another state, and finish the imperfect man? States are educated as individuals by circum- stances ; the prophet may cry aloud, and spare not ; the philosopher may descant on morals; eloquence may exhaust itself in invective against the vices of the age ; these vices will certainly follow certain states of poverty or riches, ignorance or high civil- ization. But what these gentle alternatives fail of doing may be accomplished by an unsuccessful war, a loss of trade, er any of those great calamities by which it pleases Providence to speak to a nation in such language as will be heard. If, as a nation, we would be cured of pride, it must be by morti- fication; if of luxury, by a national bankruptcy, perhaps ; if of injustice, or the spirit of domination, by a loss of national consequence. In comparison of these strong remedies, a fast, or a sermon, are prescriptions of very little efficacy. A short extract from another excellent Essay we ANNA LETTTIA BABBAULD. 219 will here introduce, for its good sense, and striking application to the present times : OX INCONSISTENCY IN OUB EXPECTATIONS. u But is it not some reproach upon the economy of Providence that such a one, who is a mean, dirty fellow, should have amassed wealth enough to buy half a nation ':" Not in the least. He made him- self a mean dirty fellow for that very end. He has paid his health, his conscience, his liberty for it> and will you envy him his bargain ? Will you hang your head and blush in his presence, because he outshines you in equipage and show ? Lift up your brow with a noble confidence, and say to yourself, I have not these things, it is true ; but it is because I have not sought, because I have not desired them; it is because I possess something bettor. 1 have chosen my lot. I am content and satisfied. You are a modest man you love quiet and in- dependence, and have a delicacy and reserve in your temper \\hich renders it impossible for you to elbow your way in the world, and be the herald of your own merits. Be content then with a modest retirement, with the esteem of your intimate friends, with the praises of a blameless heart, and a delicate, ingenuous spirit; but resign the splendid distinc- tions of the world to those who can better scram- ble for them. The man whose tender sensibility of conscience 220 and strict regard to the rules of morality make him scrupulous and fearful of offending, is often heard to complain of the disadvantages he lies under in every path of honor and profit. " Could I but get over some nice points, and conform to the practice and opinion of those about me, I might stand as fair a chance as others for dignities and prefer- ment." And why can you not? What hinders you from discarding this troublesome scrupulosity of yours, which stands so grievously in your way ? tf it be a small thing to enjoy a healthful mind, sound at the very core, that does not shrink from the keenest inspection; inward freedom from re- morse and perturbation; unsullied whiteness and simplicity of manners ; a genuine integrity " Pure in the last recesses of the mind ;" if you think these advantages an inadequate recom- pense for what you resign, dismiss your scruples this instant, and be a slave-merchant, a parasite, or what you please " If these be motives weak, break off betimes ;" and as you have not spirit to assert the dignity of virtue, be wise enough not to forego the emolu- ments of vice. I much admire the spirit of the ancient philoso- phers, in that they never attempted, as our moral- ists often do, to lower the tone of philosophy, and make it consistent with all the indulgences of in- dolence and sensuality. They never thought of AXXA LETITIA BARBAULD. having the bulk of mankind for their disciples ; but ki-pt themselves as distinct as possible from a worldly life-. They plainly told men what sacrifices required, and what advantages they were which might be expected: " Si rirtna hoc una potest dare, fortis omisses Hoc age deliciia " If you would be a philosopher, these are the terms. You must do thus and thus ; there is no other way. If not, go and be one of the vulgar. There is no one quality gives so much dignity to a character as consistency of conduct. Even if a man's pursuits be wrong and unjustifiable, yet if they are prosecuted with steadiness and vigor, we cannot withhold our admiration. The most char- acteristic mark of a jjreat mind is to choose some one important object, and pursue it through life. It was this made Ciesar a great man. His object was ambition ; he pursued it steadily, and was al- ways ready to sacrifice to it every interfering pas- sion or inclination. ***** There is a different air and complexion in char- acters as well as in faces, though perhaps equally beautiful ; and the excellences of one cannot be transferred to the other. Thus, if one man pos- RrNxes ;i stoical apathy of >oul, acts in-l'-prndrnt f the opinion of the world, and fulfils every duty with mathematical exactness, you must not expect that man to be greatly influenced by the weakness 222 WOMEN OF WORTH. of pity, or the partialities of friendship ; you must not be offended that he does not fly to meet you after a short absence ; or require from him the con- vivial spirit and honest effusions of a warm, open, susceptible heart. If another is remarkable for a lively active zeal, inflexible integrity, a strong in- dignation against vice, and freedom in reproving it, he will probably have some little bluntness in his address not altogether suitable to polished life ; he will want the winning arts of conversation ; he will disgust by a kind of haughtiness and negli- gence in his manner, and often hurt the delicacy of his acquaintance with harsh and disagreeable truths. We do not consider the poetry of Mrs. Barbauld equal to her prose writings ; but there is a benig- nity, mingled with vivacity, in some of her poetical productions which make them always pleasant, as the face of a cheerful friend. WASHING-DAT. THE Muses are turn'd gossips ; they have lost The buskin'd step, and clear high-sounding phrase, Language of gods. Come then, domestic Muse, In slipshod measure loosely prattling on Of farm or orchard, pleasant curds and cream, Or drowning flies, or shoe lost in the mire By little whimpering boy, with rueful face; Come, Muse, and sing the dreaded Washing-Day. Ye who beneath the yoke of wedlock bend, With bowed soul, full well ye ken the day "Which week, smooth sliding after week, brings on ANNA LETTTIA BARBAULD. 223 Too soon ; for to that day nor peace belongs Nor comfort ; ere the first gray streak of dawn, The red-armed washers come and chase repose. Nor pleasant smile, nor quaint device of mirth, E'er visited that day ; the very cat, From the wet kitchen scared and reeking hearth, Visits the parlor an unwonted guest. The silent breakfast-meal is soon dispatch' d ; Uninterrupted, nave by anxious looks Cast at the lowering sky, if sky should lower. From that last evil, O preserve us, heavens I For should the skies pour down, adieu to all Remains of quiet; then expect to hear Of sad disasters dirt and gravel stains Hard to efface, and loaded lines at once Snapped short and linen-horse by dog thrown down, And all the petty miseries of life. Saints hare been calm while stretched upon the rack, And Guatimozin smiled on burning coals ; But never yet did housewife notable Greet with a smile a rainy washing-day. But grant the welkin fair, require not thou Who call'st thyself perchance the- master there, Or study swept or nicely dusted coat, Or usual 'tendance; ask not, indiscreet, Thy stockings mended, though the yawning rent* Gape wide as Erebus ; nor hope to find Some snug recess impervious; shouldst thou try The 'eustomed garden walks, thine eye shall rue The budding fragrance of thy tender shrubs, Myrtle or rose, all crushed beneath the weight Of coarse check'd apron with impatient hand Twitched off when showers impend ; or crossing line* Shall mar thy musings, as the wet cold sheet Flaps in thy face abrupt Woe to the friend Whose evil stars have urged him forth to claim On such a day the hospitable rites ! Looks, blank at best, and stinted courtesy Shall he receive. Vainly he feeds his hopes With dinner of roast chicken, savory pie, 224: WOMEN OF WOKTH. Or tart, or pudding ; pudding he nor tart That day shall eat ; nor, though the husband try, Mending what can't be helped, to kindle mirth From cheer deficient, shall his consort's brow Clear up propitious ; the unlucky guest In silence dines, and early slinks away. I well remember, when a child, the awe This day struck into me ; for then the maids, I scarce knew why ; look'd cross, and drove me from them. Nor soft caress could I obtain, nor hope Usual indulgences ; jelly or creams, Relic of costly suppers, and set by For me their petted one ; or butter'd toast, When butter was forbid ; or thrilling tale Of ghost, or witch, or murder so I went And shelter' d me beside the parlor fire ; There my dear grandmother, eldest of forms, Tended the little ones, and watched from harm, Anxiously fond, though oft her spectacles With elfin cunning hid, and oft the pins Drawn from her ravell'd stocking, might have sour'd One less indulgent. At intervals my mother's voice was heard, Urging dispatch ; briskly the work went on, All hands employ'd to wash, to rinse, to ring, To fold, and starch, and clap, and iron, and plait. Then would I sit me down, and ponder much Why washings were. Sometimes through hollow bowl Of pipe amused we blew, and sent aloft The floatting bubbles ; little dreaming then To see, Mongolfier, thy silken ball Ride buoyant through the clouds so near approach The sports of children and the toils of men. Earth, air, and sky, and ocean, hath its bubbles, And verse is one of them this most of all. ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD. 225 PAINTED FLOWERS. Flowers to the fair ; to you these flowers I bring, And strive to greet you with an earlier spring, Flowers, sweet and gay, and delicate like you, Emblems of innocence and beauty too. With flowers the Graces bind their yellow hair, And flowery wreaths consenting lovers wear. Flowers, the sole luxury which Nature knew, In Eden's pure and guiltless garden grew. To loftier forms are rougher tasks assign'd ; The sheltering oak resists the stormy wind, The tougher yew repels invading foes, And the tall pine for future navies grows ; But this soft family, to cares unknown, Were born for pleasure and delight alone: Gay without toil, and lovely without art, They spring to cheer the sense, and glad the heart, Nor blush, my fair, to own you copy these, Your best, your sweetest empire is to pleaae. 16 226 WOMEN OF WORTH. THE DEVOTED PATRIOT. REBECCA MOTTE, DAUGHTER of Robert Brewton, an English gentle- man, who had emigrated to South Carolina, was born in 1738, in Charleston. "When about twenty, she married Mr. Jacob Motte, who died soon after the commencement of the revolutionary war. Cap- tain McPherson, of the British army, who was in command of the garrison at Fort Motte, had taken possession of the large new house of Mrs. Motte, and fortified it, so that it was almost impregnable. Mrs. Motte herself had been obliged to remove to an old farm-house in the vicinity. la order to dis- lodge the garrison before succors could arrive, Generals Marion and Lee, who were commanding the American forces there, could devise no means but burning the mansion. This they were very reluctant to do, but Mrs. Motte willingly assented W> the proposal, and presented, herself, a bow and .ts apparatus, which had been imported from India, and was prepared to carry combustible matter. We will conclude this scene from the eloquent de- REBECCA MOTTE. 227 scription of Mrs. Ellet, to whose admirable work* we are imleUed for the interesting materials for this sketch. "Every tiling was now prepared for the conclu- ding scene. The lines were manned, and an addi- tional force stationed at the battery, to meet a desperate assault, if such should be made. The American entrenchments being within arrow-shot, Mrl'herson was once more summoned, and again more confidently for help was at hand asserted his determination to resist to the last. " The scorching rays of the noon-day sun had prepared the shingle roof for the conflagration. The return of the flag was immediately followed by the shooting of the arrows, to which balls of blazing rosin and brimstone were attached. Simms tells us the bow was put into the hands of Nathan Savage, a private in Marion's brigade. The first struck, and set fire ; also the second and third, in different quarters of the roof. McPherson imme- diately ordered men to repair to the loft of the house, antbrtunes." Another portion of her history is important, as illustrating her high sense of honor, her energy, and patient, self-denying perseverance. Her hus- band, in consequence of the difficulties and dis- tresses growing out of our war for independence, became embarrassed in his business ; and after his death, and termination of the war, it was found imjMKMMf to satisfy these claims. "The widow, however, considered the honor of her deceased husband involved in the responsibili- ties he had assumed. She determined to devote- the remainder of her life to the honorable task of paying the debts. Her friends and connections, whose acquaintance with her affairs gave weight to their judgment, warned her of the apparent hopelessness of such an effort. But, steadfast in the principles that governed all her conduct, she persevered. Living in an humble dwelling, and relinquishing many of her habitual comforts, she devoted herself with such zeal, untiring industry, and indomitable resolution, to the attainment of her object, that her success triumphed over every difficulty, and exceeded the expectations of all who had discouraged her. She not only paid her hus- band's debts to the full, but secured for her chil- dren and descendants a handsome and unencum- bered estate. Such an example of perseverance under adverse circumstances, for the accomplish- ment of a high and noble purpose, exhibits in yet 230 WOMEN OF WORTH. brighter colors the heroism that shone in her coun- try's days of peril !" Mrs. Motte died in 1815, at her plantation on the Santee. SUZANNE CUBCHOD, MADAME NECKER. 231 THE ESTIMABLE GOVERNESS. SUZANNE CURCHOD, MADAME NECKER, WAS descended, on the maternal side, from an an- cient family in Provence, who had taken refuge in Switzerland on the revocation of the Edict of Nan- tes. She was born at Grassy, her father, M. Cur- chod, being the evangelical minister in that little village, lie was a very learned man, and trained his daughter with great care, even giving her the severe and classical education usually bestowed only on men. The young Suzanne Curchod was renowned throughout the whole province for her wit, bi-aiity, and intellectual attainments. Gibbon, the future historian, but then an un- known youth studying in Lausanne, met Made- moiselle Curchod, fell in love with her, and succeeded in rendering his attachment acceptable to both the object of his affections and her parents. When he returned, however, to England, his lather indig- nantly refused to hear of the proposed marriage b< t\\c-i! him and the Swiss mini>trr'> portionless daughter. Gibbon yielded to parental authority, and philosophically forgot his learned mistress. 232 WOMEN OF WORTH. After her father's death, which left her wholly unprovided for, Suzanne Curchod retired with her mother to Geneva. She there earned a precarious subsistence by teaching persons of her own sex. When her mother died, a lady named Madame de Vermenoux induced Mademoiselle Curchod to come to Paris, in order to teach Latin to her son. It was in this lady's house that she met Necker. He was then in the employment of Thellusson, the banker, and occasionally visited Madame de Ver- menoux. Struck with the noble character and grave beauty of the young governess, Necker cul- tivated her acquaintance, and ultimately made her his wife. Mutual poverty had delayed their mar- riage for several years ; but it Avas not long ere Necker rose from his obscurity. Madame Necker had an ardent love of honorable distinction, which she imparted to her husband, and which greatly served to quicken his efforts: his high talents in financial matters were at length recognized : he became a wealthy and respected man. Shortly after her marriage, Madame Necker expressed the desire of devoting herself to literature. Her hus- band, however, delicately hinted to her that he should regret seeing her adopt such a course. This sufficed to induce her to relinquish her intention : she loved him so entirely, that, without effort or repining, she could make his least wish her law. As Necker rose in the world, Madame Necker's influence increased ; but it never was an individual power, like that of Madame du Deffand, or of the SUZANNE CURCI10D, MADAMK NKCKKK. 233 Marechale de Luxembourg. Over her husband she al \vays possessed great influence. Her virtues and noble diameter had inspired him with a feeling akin to veneration. He was not wholly guided by her counsels, but he respected her opinions as those of a high-minded being, whom all the surrounding folly and corruption could not draw down from her sphere of holy purity. If Madame Necker was loved and esteemed by her husband, she may be said to have almost idolized him ; and her passion- att- attachment probably increased the feelings of vanity and self-importance of which Necker has often been accused. This exclusive ilevotedness caused some wonder amongst the friends of the minister and his wife; for seldom had these skep- tieal philosophers witnessed a conjugal nnion so strict and uncompromising, and yet so touching in its very severity. When Necker became, in 1770, Director-Gen- eral of the Finances, his wife resolved that the influence her husband's official position gave her should not be employed in procuring unmerited favors for flatterers or para-ites. She placed before herself the far more noble object of alleviating mis- fortune, and pointing out to her reforming husband some of the innumerable abuses which then exi-tcd in every department of the state. One of her first attempts was to overthrow the lottery. She pressed the point on Necker' s attention; but though he shared her convictions, he had not the power of destroying this great evil : he did, however, all he 234 WOMEN OF WORTH. could to moderate its excesses. The prisons and hospitals of Paris greatly occupied the attention of Madame Necker during the five years of her husband's power. Her devotedness to the cause of humanity was admirable, and shone with double lustre amidst the heartless selfishness of the sur- rounding world. She once happened to learn that a certain Count of Lautrec had been imprisoned in a dungeon of the fortress of Ham for twenty-eight years ! and that the unhappy captive now scarcely seemed to belong to human kind. A feeling of deep compassion seized her heart. To liberate a state prisoner was more than her influence could command, but she resolved to lighten, if possible, his load of misery. She set out for Ham, and suc- ceeded in obtaining a sight of M. de Lautrec. She found a miserable-looking man, lying listlessly on the straw of his dungeon, scarcely clothed with a few tattered rags, and surrounded by rats and rep- tiles. Madame Necker soothed his fixed and sullen despair with promises of speedy relief; nor did she depart until she had kept her word, and seen M. de Lautrec removed to an abode where, if still a prisoner, he might at least spend in peace the few days left him by the tyranny of his oppressors. Acts of individual benevolence were not, how- ever, the only object of the minister's wife. Not- withstanding the munificence of her private char- ities, she aimed none the less to eifect general good. Considerable ameliorations were introduced by her in the condition of the hospitals of Paris. SUZANNE CFRCI1OD, MADAME KECKKi:. 235 She entered, with unwearied patience, into the most minute details of their actual administration, and with admirable ingenuity, rectified errors or suggested improvements. Her aim was to effect a greater amount of good with the same capital, whieh she iiow saw grossly squandered and mis- applied. The reforms which she thus introduced were both important and severe. She sacrificed almost the whole of her time to this praiseworthy task, and ultimately devoted a considerable sum to found the hospital which still bears her name. Beyond this, Madame Xecker sought to exercise no power over her husband, or through his means. She loved him far too truly and too well to aim at an influence which might have degraded Ixim in the eyes of the world. Necker was, however, proud of his noble-hearted wife, and never hesi- tated to confess how much he was indebted to her advice. When he retired from office, in 1781, and published his famous " Compte Kendu," he seized this opportunity of paying a high and heartfelt homage to the virtues of his wife. " Whilst re- tracing," he observes at the conclusion of liis work, "a portion of the charitable tasks prescribed by your majesty, let me be permitted, sire, to allude, without naming her, to a person gifted with sin- gular virtues, and who has materially assisted me in accomplishing the designs of your majesty. Al- though her name was never uttered to you, in all the vanities of high office, it is right, sire, that you should be aware that it is known and frequently 236 WOMEN OF WORTH. invoked in the most obscure asylums of suffering humanity. It is no doubt most fortunate for a minister of finances to find, in the companion of his life, the assistance he needs for so many details of beneficence and charity, which might otherwise prove too much for the strength and attention. Carried away by the tumults of general affairs often obliged to sacrifice the feelings of the private man to the duties of the citizen he may well es- teem himself happy, when the complaints of pov- erty and misery can be confided to an enlightened person who shares the sentiment of his duties." If Madame Necker has not left so remarkable a name as many women of her time ; if her contem- poraries, justly, perhaps, found her too cold and formal ; yet she shines at least in that dark age, a noble example of Avoman's virtues devoted love, truth, and purity. She died in 1794, calm and re- signed throughout the most acute sufferings ; her piety sustained her. The literary works she left are chiefly connected with her charities, or were called forth by the events around her. Among these works are the following: "Hasty Inter- ments," " Memorial on the Establishment of Hos- pitals," " Reflections on divorce," and her " Miscel- lanies." Her only child was the celebrated Madame de Stael. CAROLINE LUCBETIA HER8CHEL. 237 THE PATIENT ASTRONOMER. CAROLINE LUCRETIA HERSCHKL, TER, and for a long time assistant, of the cele- l>i.-ited astronomer, Sir William Herschel, was born at Hanover on the 16th of March, 1750. She is ;t'< I'M ini, r ui>hed for her astronomical researches, and particularly for the construction of a seleno- graphical globe, giving in relict' the surface of the moon. But it was for her brother, Sir William hel, that tin- activity of her mind was awaken- ed. From the first commencement of his astro- nomical pursuit*, her attendance on both his daily labors and nightly \vatchcs was put in requisition; and was found so useful, that on his removal to. Datclict, and suli-i-ijiu-ntly to Slough' he boing thru occupied with his n-\ii"\vs of the heavens and other rcM-archcs she performed tin- whole of the arduous and important duties ot' his astronomical assistant, not only reading the clH-ks and noting down all the observations from dictation as an amaniien>is, but subsequently executing the whole of the extensive and laborious numerical calcula- tions necessary to render them available to science, 238 WOMEN OF WOKTH. as well as a multitude of others relative to the various objects of theoretical and experimental in- quiry in which, during his long and active career, he at any time engaged 5 . For the performance of these duties, his majesty, King George III., was pleased to place her m the receipt of a salary suffi- cient for her singularly moderate wants and retired habits. Arduous, however, as- these occupations must appear, especially when it is considered that her brother's observations were always carried on (cir- cumstances permitting) till daybreak, without re- gard to season, and indeed chiefly in the winter, they proved insufficient to exhaust her activity. In their intervals she found time for both actual astronomical observations of her own, and for the execution of more than one work of great extent and utility. The observations here alluded to were made wiith a small Newtonian sweeper, constructed for her by her brother ; with which, whenever his occasional absence, or any interruption to the regular course of his observations permitted, she searched the heavens for comets, and that so effectively as on no less than eight several occasions to be rewarded by their discovery. On five of these occasions (re- corded in the pages of the " Philosophical Trans- actions " of London) her claim to the first discov- ery is admitted. These sweeps, moreover, proved productive of the detection of several remarkable nebulaB and clusters of stars previously unobserved, CAROLINE LUCRETJA HERSCHEL. 239 amonir which may be specially mentioned the su- perb Nebula, No. 1, Class V., of Sir William Her- schers catalogues nn object bearing much resem- blance to the celebrated nebula in Andromeda, dis- covered by Simeon Inarius. The astronomical works which she found leisure to complete were 1st. "A Catalogue of 561 Stars observed by Flamsteed," but which having escaped the notice of those who framed the " British Cata- logue" from that astronomer's observations, are not therein inserted. '2. "A (General Index of Kef- en -nee to every Observation of every Star inserted in the British Catalogue." These works were pub- lished together in one volume by the Royal So- ciety ; and to their utility in subsequent researches Mr. Daily, in his " Life of Flamsteed," bears am- ple testimony. She further completed the reduc- tion and arrangement as a " Zone Catalogue " of all the nebulae and clusters of stars observed by her brother in his sweeps; a work for which she was honored with the Gold Medal of the Astronomical Society of London, in 1828; which society also conferred on her the unusual distinction of electing her an honorary member. On her brother's death, in 1822, she returned to Hanover, which she never again quitted, passing the last twenty-six years of her life in repose en* joying the society and cherished by the regard of her remaining relatives and friends gratified by the occasional visits of eminent astronomers and honored with many marks of favor and distinction 240 WOMEN OF WORTH. on the part of the King of Hanover, the crown prince, and his amiable and illustrious consort. Until within a very short period of her death, her health continued uninterrupted, her faculties perfect, and her memory (especially of the scenes and circumstances of former days) remarkably clear and distinct. Her end was tranquil and free from suffering a simple cessation of life. The writer of this very interesting memoir has, however, omitted to state, that besides being an Honorary Member of the Royal Astronomical So- ciety, Miss Herschel was also similarly honored by the Royal Irish Academy. The following just and eloquent tribute to the merits of Miss Herschel is from Dr. Nichol's " Views of the Architecture of the Heavens :" "The astronomer (Sir William Herschel), during these engrossing nights, was constantly assisted in his labors by a devoted maiden sister, who braved with him the inclemency of the weather who heroically shared his privations that she might par- ticipate in his delights whose pen, we are told, committed to paper his notes of observations as they issued from his lips. ' She it was,' says the best of authorities, ' who, having passed the nights near the telescope, took the rough manuscripts to her cottage at the dawn of day, and produced a fair copy of the night's work on the ensuing morn- ing ; she it was who planned the labor of each suc- ceeding night, who reduced every observation, made every calculation, and kept everything in ! WILLIAM IIKMntKL** AUTKOXOMICAI. AMIKTANT. ww who |ilnJ Ik. Ubnr ofnMk retM.Jtnf %lii, wjo ndnnd l*li.. rn.1 k[HT. nr ih.nj In of>lt . b II .- \'U ( ! (>th>r *a I CAROLINE LUCKETIA HEBSCHEL. 241 systematic order,' she it was Miss Caroline Her- schel who helped our astronomer to gather an imperishable name. This venerable lady has in one K -]H ct been more fortunate than her brother; she has lived to reap the full harvest of their joint glory. Some years ago, the gold medal of our nomiral Society was transmitted to her to her native Hanover, whither she removed after Sir "William's death; and the same learned society has recently inscribed her name upon its roll ; but she has been rewarded by yet more, by what she will value beyond all earthly pleasures; she has lived to see her favorite nephew, him who grew up under her eye unto an astronomer, gather around him the highest hopes of scientific Europe, and prove him- self fully equal to tread in the footsteps of his fa- ther." In 1847, she celebrated the ninety-seventh anni- versary of her birth, when the King of Hanover sent to compliment her, the Prince and Princess Royal vi>ited her; and the latter presented her with a magnificent arm-chair embroidered by her- self; and the King of Prussia sent her the gold iin-dal awarded for the Extension of the Sciences. Miss Herschel died at the opening of the follow- ing y-ar, January 9th, 1848, crowned with the glory which woman's genius may gain, working in the way Divine Providence appointed her as the helper of man. 16 24-2 WOMEN OF WORTH. THE QUIET REFORMER. HANNAH MORE. IN" estimating the merits of distinguished indi- viduals, our opinion must obviously be modified by a knowledge of the external influences to which they were subjected. According as the tendency of these is to counteract or to forward their aims, a greater or less tenacity of purpose is demanded. And looking at the whole of a life, this is a quality that has more to do with greatness than may at first strike us ; for greatness depends not so much upon the possession of brilliant talents, as upon steadiness and perseverance in pursuing a laudable object. A most obstinate struggle with circum- stances has to be kept up by such as would rise to eminence from the humbler walks of life ; but a contest on a more extended scale has to be encoun- tered by whosoever aspires to be a reformer, as in this case the obstacles result from the condition of a nation or of society. They are also of a complex nature ; the reformer has first to disentangle his own mind from the shackles of custom and preju- dice, and next undertake the same task for others. HANNAH MORE. 243 Hannah More was a reformer; we conceive one who did so much, by example, and purse, and pen, toward purifying the morality and advancing the cause of religion in England, to be well worthy of such a title, and all the greatness it implies. It is true she had the primary advantage of a sound and religious education, and was thus placed so as to have a Pisgah-like view of existing defects ; but next to the difficulty of divesting our minds of the warpings of habit and popular opinion, is that of preventing ourselves from being caught in their meshes. Of the state of religious knowledge, even amongst the higher classes, in the days of Hannah More, we may have a pretty accurate idea, from the anecdote related in connection with Sir Joshua Reynolds' "Samuel." When this celebrated painting was finished, numerous visitors flocked to his studio to see it, and amongst them were several who pro- posed the intelligent question, "Who was Samuel?" The manners and morality of the period were quite in agreement with this; and though it is by no means denied that there were many fine exivji- ti"ii>, it was then the fash ion to be irreligious and immoral. Hannah More, when little above twenty years of age, was taken from the comparatively quiet c-oteries of Bristol, and plunged into the -.vliirl of the gay world of London; the caresses ami blandishments of the witty, the great, ami the Irarned, were heaped upon her, but 1 er keen, in- stinctive sense of right was in no degree blunted, 214 WOMEN OF WORTH. and the endeavors of the world to win her to its side only served to draw forth the more unequivo- cal declaration of her principles. These principles, like the course of every great mind, deepened and widened with progressing years. We find her whose first essay was penned with the design of fostering a purer morality, gradually increasing her efforts for the same praiseworthy end, and by and by retiring from the vortex of fashion- able life, to devote herself to the study of the Scriptures, and the composition of works bearing more immediately on the subject of religion. Besides her literary reputation, Mrs. Hannah More was eminent for her piety and philanthropy ; so much so, that, although she had not obtained celebrity by her writings, her memory would have been deservedly cherished as a Christian and phil- anthropist. She was ever prompt to originate or help forward philanthropic movements ; she wrote for them books for the drawing-rooms of the great, and tracts and ballads that insinuated them- selves into the workshops of the town, and the cottages of the country; and she established schools for bestowing the blessings of education and a knowledge of the truths of the gospel on the poor. She was considerate and liberal to that class during ^her lifetime, and at her death, the sums bequeathed by her to religious and charitable institutions were on the most munificent scale. But perhaps the truest and most touching proof of her generosity and kindness to the poor, was that given on the HANNAH MOKE. 245 day of her funeral, when each, with some sem- blance of mourning, they came crowding from village and hamlet to pay a last tribute to their benefactress, and give "all they had to give a tear." In reading the life of this celebrated person, we cannot fail to be struck with the large amount of good that she effected ; and yet she was but a " lone woman ;" and, in addition to the disadvan- - pertaining to her sex, Mrs. Hannah More was at all times delicate in health, and subject to very frequent illness. In consequence of this, she was deeply impressed with the evil of procrastina- tion, and has recorded in her diary how necessary she felt it to be to prosecute her work assiduously during her intervals of freedom from sickness. This goes to prove that greatness, in general, as well as success, arises less from the possession of ^r-:it talents, or from favorable circumstances, than the selection of a proper aim, and the resolution to follow it unswervingly. There are multitudes of e\ani]>l< ^ in the world, of a stern and successful ;unee of divumstances more overwhelming than any u are likely to encounter, that may semi for eaooongmg and ineiting us to emulation. We :ire ili-jioscd to lay too much stress on the of circumstances, forgetting that we are to some extent the originators of them. Then we c"iiM'K-r thi> a capital excuse for our indolence; it is this that is keeping us inactive; we are waiting for an opening, instead cf making an opening. As 24:6 WOMEN OF WORTH. for a favorable opportunity, it is vain for us to plead the want of them ; we must not be too scru- pulous, but seize the best that happens to come within our reach. Hannah More was the youngest of five sisters, and was born at Stapleton, in Gloucestershire, in the year 1745. Her father having lost his money by the unfavorable termination of a lawsuit, lived here in a secluded manner. He was the son of the former master of an endowed school in the neigh- borhood, who, not being encumbered with a super- abundance of pupils, had plenty of leisure to " rear the tender thought" of his son. He, in his turn, " kept the ball moving," as Franklin says of kind- ness, and devoted his time to the education of his daughters ; and as he brought a highly creditable amount of talents and learning to the task, and had good materials to work upon, it is not surprising that he was very successful. This was particularly the case with Hannah, who was a somewhat pre- cocious child, and her aptness in the acquisition of the first principles of geometry, and the rudiments of Latin, must have delighted the old man, and transformed the labor of instruction into a pleasant relaxation. The bias of luer tastes very eai'ly dis- played itself: one of her childish amusements was riding on a chair, accompanied by the announce- ment that " she was going to London to see book- sellers and bishops." It was a darling object of her ambition to attain to the possession of a whole quire of paper, and when some friend gratified her HANNAH MORE. 247 wish, it was speedily tilled with letters to imaginary MlgM, The tali-Tits of tin- whole family were so much above the average that they soon attracted atten- tion, and under the auspices of Dr. Stonehousc and others, the Misses More established a day-school in J 5i i-tol : tliis shortly alter gave place to a boarding- school, which long maintained the character of being one of the best and most flourishing in that j>:n t of England. To this school Hannah was re- moved when twelve years of age, and eagerly availed herself of the means of extending her knowl- edge BOW placed within her reach. She acquired a perfect and idiomatical knowledge of the French. and afterward of the Italian and Spanish languages, n at this early period her conversational powers were so fuM-innting that Dr. WoodwanU an eminent scholar, when at tending her in his med- ical capacity, under their influence on one occasion so far forgot the object of his \isit, that he was proceeding down stairs, when, suddenly recollect- ing hiink the girl how she is." In the year 17G2 l she gave her first literary com- position to the world, in tin; shape of a pastoral drama, entitled, "The Search after Happiness." Having met with the approval of Garrick, Dr. Storehouse, and other persons of literary taste, it was i-Mi.-.l from tli.- r.ri.t>l pros, ami it< ppu- larity was so great, that in a few months it passed through three editions. The poem, as the authoress 248 WOMEN OF WORTH. informs us, had for its object " an earnest wish to furnish a substitute for the very improper custom, which then prevailed, of allowing plays, and these not always of the purest kind, to be acted by young ladies in boarding-schools." About this time a proposal of marriage was made to her by a landed proprietor in the neigh- borhood ; and though Mr. Turner was many years her senior, his offer was accepted, and she resigned her share in the management of the boarding- school. Owing to various circumstances, however, the engagement was broken off, and although the gentleman soon after sought to renew it, the lady would not give her consent. Her feelings had un- deniably been trifled with, and she made a resolu- tion to eschew all such overtures in future. It is but due to Mr. Turner to state that he settled an annuity on her, and bequeathed her at his death the sum of one thousand pounds. Perhaps, if we knew it, the lives of many of the tea-bibbing, scan- dal-mongering class, denominated "old maids," contain a little episode of such a vexation, and such a determination; and perhaps the secret of their railing at the world in general is that " there is a Across in their hearts." When in her twenty-second year, Hannah More .paid her visit to London, and returned the follow- ing year, to reside for a short time with the Gar- ricks, at their beautiful retreat at Hampton. Here she became acquainted with Johnson, Burke, Rey- nolds, and others of the elite of the literary world. HANNAH MORE. 249 The great moralist in part'u-ular had a most affec- tionate regard for her, terming her " Child," " Lit- tle Fool," "Love," and "Dearest." One of her si-ters, in writing home, gives the following inter- e>tiiiLr account of a conversation between herself and Johnson. "After much critical discourse, he turns round to me, and with one of his most ami- able looks, which must be seen to form the least idea of it, he says, 'I have heard that you are en- gaged in the useful and honorable employment of teaching young ladies;' upon which, with all the same ease, familiarity, and confidence as we should have done, had only our own Dr. Stonehouse been present, we entered upon the history of our birth, parentairf, and education, showing how we were born with more desires than guineas, and how, as years increased, our appetites inerea-t-d al-o, the cupboard at home being too small to gratify them ; and how, with a bottle of water, a bed, and a blanket, we set out to seek our fortunes; and how we found a great hou<\\ -er. There art- many line passages, and the in- t i- -u-taiiied throughout. Within the three- following years the two trage- >! 1 Vivy" ;mr. Two years after her retreat to -lip Green, she published a small tract, enti- tled, "Thoughts on the Manners of the Great." followed in the same year by a poem on "Slavery." About ten miles distant from the residence of WOMEN OF WORTH. Miss Hannah More and her sisters, lay the village of Chedder. It is picturesquely situated at the mouth of a narrow ravine in the Mendip Hills ; close to the town, fantastically-shaped cliffs of lime-stone shoot abruptly upward, to the height of several hundreds of feet ; and those who penetrate into the gorge, which extends for nearly three miles, are rewarded by a display of the grandest rocky scenery in all " merry England." The coun- try around is rich pasture-land ; and the dairies have long been celebrated for their cheese, which in the days of Camden was so good and so great, that it required more than one man to hoist a cheese on to the table. But it was not the garden- like fertility of the country, nor the romantic beauty of the village, that drew toward it the notice of Hannah More. The rural population of this fine district were in a state of terrible demoralization, which will be best described by the following ex- tract from a letter of Miss More to her friend Wil- berforce: "We found more than two thousand people in the parish, almost all very poor; no gentry; a dozen wealthy farmers, hard, brutal, and ignorant. We saw but one Bible in all the parish, and that was used to prop a flower-pot. No cler- gyman had resided in it for forty years. One rode over, three miles from Wells, to preach once on a Sunday, but no weekly duty was done, or sick persons visited; and children were often buried without any funeral service. Eight persons in the HANNAH MOKE. 255 morning, and twenty in the afternoon, was a good congn-gatioM." But, " For man's neglect, the loved it more." A wide field was extended on which to exert her energies, and nobly she and her two sisters labored in the jHM-formance of their self-appointed work. The influence which the French Revolution ex- 1 'ii the lower classes in this country induced her to publish a tract, entitled "Village Politics, in a Dialogue between two Mechanics." The sale and circulation of this little work were astonishing, and led her, in 1795, to commence a regular series, which was issued monthly from Hath, under the name of the " Cheap Repository Tracts." During th- same year, which was one of horror and com- motion abroad, and anxiety and scarcity at home, her purse and hand were no less readily opened to relieve the one, than her pen had been used to counteract the influence of the other. At her hos- pitable door the poor were supplied with soup and food, and every m.-nns in her power were taken to assist them, and mitigate their suflerings. Nor W08 her liberality re-trictcd to her own count rv- men, for the sum of 240, the pnv !. <.f a publi- cation, " Remarks on a Production of M. Dupont, a French Athci>t," was devoted to the relief of the French emigrant clergy, who Hocked in con>ider- able numbers to our shores. In the year 1700, Hannah More (who now as- sumed the title of Mrs.) wrote her "Strictures on 256 WOMEN OF WORTH. the Modern System of Female Education." From some of the opinions advanced in this work, and from the opposition to her schools reviving in a quarter where it might least have been expected, Mrs. More was subjected to a series of calumni- ations and persecutions that would have been try- ing to a person of ordinary sensibility, and must have been severely so to a woman who was desirous of living as much in retirement as was compatible with the schemes of usefulness she sought to carry out. Mrs. More, in 1 802, changed her residence from Cowslip Green to Barley Wood beautiful Barley "Wood familiar to every one as a household name. To this charming retreat, where she dwelt for more than twenty years, crowds of the wisest, greatest, and best congregated to visit her. It was proposed at this period to commit to her the superinten- dence of the education of the Princess Charlotte of Wales. This scheme was not carried into effect, but it probably led to the publication, in 1805, of two volumes, " Hints towards Forming the Char- acter of a Young Princess." This work, which was anonymous, procured the author the flattering compliment of several letters from the heads of the church, beginning and ending with " Sir." It was dedicated to Dr. John Fisher, bishop of Exeter, then tutor to her Royal Highness, and he brought it under the notice of her Majesty, who signified her gracious approval of it. A few years after- ward, the novel of " Ccelebs in Search of a Wife " HANNAH MORE. 257 came out, in two volumes, and, like its predecessor, without the author's name. "The discerning pub- lic," however, were not slow in attributing it to its proper source. This novel achieved a wide popu- larity. We have already mentioned that theology and scriptural subjects possessed great attractions in the estimation of Mrs. More, and she now gave to tlio world some of the fruits of her studies. She printed, in 1811, a very excellent treatise, entitled, " Practical Piety; or, the Influence of the Religion of the Heart on the Conduct of Life ;" and the succeeding year, a work on "Christian Morals." In the preface to the last, she tendered her thanks to the public for their long-continued patronage, apologized for another appearance as an authoress, and bade them adieu in that capacity. We know not what Joshua Geddes, or those of his sect, would have said to the " taking back her word," which followed thereupon ; but the public in general had reason to esteem it a fortunate circumstance, and surely such sensible people as the Society of Friends would be of the same opinion. It was in- deed one of her grandest literary performances that she gave to the world in 1815, under the title of " An Essay on the Character and Writings of St. Paul." The design of this work was to delineate the alluring features of the Christian life, as they were displayed in the conduct of the apostle, "for a pattern to them which should hereafter l>di In the year 1819, she printed another work, "Moral 17 258 WOMEN OF WORTH. Sketches of Prevailing Opinions and Manners, Foreign and Domestic, with Reflections on Prayer," forming a sequel to her "Practical Piety," and " Christian Morals." The sale of this publication also was extensive and speedy, though it was for the most part merely a collection of sketches from real life, which had formerly made their appearance in the pages of the " Christian Observer." We cannot resist the temptation of transcribing here a portion of a letter which gives a most graphic picture of the occupant of Barley Wood at this period of her life : " I was much struck by the air of affectionate kindness with which the old lady welcomed me to Barley Wood ; there was something of courtliness about it, at the same time the courtliness of the vieille cour which one reads of, but so seldom meets. Her dress was of light green Venetian silk ; a yel- low, richly embroidered crape shawl enveloped her shoulders ; and a pretty net cap, tied under her chin with white satin ribbon, completed the costume. Her figure is singularly petite ; but to have any idea of the expression of her countenance, you must imagine the small withered face of a woman in her eighty-seventh year; and imagine also (shaded, but not obscured, by long and perfectly white eyelashes) eyes dark, brilliant, flashing, and penetrating ; sparkling from object to object with all the fire and energy of youth, and smiling wel- come on all around. "When I first entered the room, Lady S HANNAH MORE. 259 and her family were there ; they soon prepared to depart ; but the youngest boy, a fine little fellow of six, looked anxiously in Mrs. More's face after she had kissed him, and his mamma said, 'Yon will not forget Mrs. Hannah, my dear?' lie shook his head. * Do not forget me, my dear child, 1 said the kind oKl lady, assuming a playful manner ; 'but they say your sex is naturally capricious. There, I will give you another kiss; keep it for my sate, and when you are a man, remember Han- nah More.' ' I will,' he replied, 'remember that you loved children.' It was a beautiful compli- ment." Mrs. More was now doomed to experience the sorrowful compensation that must be paid for a life prolonged to the verge of fourscore and ten years. Of the five talented Mores the five women who, to Dr. Johnson's amazement, lived happily together Hannah was the sole representative; her r Sarah having died in 1817, and her favorite ratty, two years later. Ad beside those mem- bers of her "\vn family, there were many losses to be bewailed of those friends with whom, in other years, >he ha.l u taken sweet counsel together." A- she herself remarked to a visitor, "Johnson, Burke, Garrick, Reynold-, Porteous all all the associates of my youth are gone." " Tet when a* one by one sweet sounds And wandering lights departed, Sfa wore no less a loving face, Although so broken hearted." 260 WOMEN OF WORTH. Her own health was decidedly failing, but, though she had become so infirm as to be unable to leave her room, her mind had lost none of its accustomed vigor, and, in 1822, she occupied her- self during an illness with preparing for the press a small volume on Prayer. With this work she laid aside for ever the powerful pen that had been wielded so well to " defend the right ;" but there still lingered for a season, the eloquence of the lips and of the life. And eloquent indeed those must have been to all who heard and saw her, standing as she was " in the shadow of coming death ;" and inconceivably "sublime and sublimating" must have been the shadow that coming events cast be- fore it, over her who had left behind a long vista of years spent in glorifying God, and doing good to man. In consequence of the disgraceful conduct of her servants, which was accidentally discovered by a visitor, Mrs. More considered it advisable to leave her much-loved haunt of Barley Wood, and take up her abode at Clifton, whither she removed in 1825. Mrs. Hannah More lived hi Clifton for sev- eral years after this event, honored, respected, and beloved by all about her ; as how could they choose but love one who was " cheerful as the day," and had such depths of tenderness hi her dark eyes, or else her portrait sadly belies her ? But her long and useful life was drawing to a close. She became more and more subject to catarrhal attacks, and, during the winter months of 1832, had occasional HANNAH MORE. 261 paroxysms of delirium. The account of her last illness is thus given by an eye-witness: 'During tlii- illness often months, the time was passed in a M lit-s of alternations between restlessness and com- re, Feng sleeps and long wakefulness, with oc- casional great excitements, elevated and sunken spirits. At length nature seemed to shrink from further conflict, and the time of her deliverance. drew near. On Friday, the 6th of September, 1833, we offered up the morning family devotion by her bedside ; she was silent, and apparently at- tentive, with her hands devoutly lifted up. From eight in the evening of this day till nearly nine, I sat watching her. Her lace was smooth and glow- ing ; there was an unusual brightness in its expres- sion. At about ten, the symptoms of speedy de- parture could not be doubted. She fell into a dozing sleep, and slight convulsions succeeded, which seemed to be attended with no pain. Con- trary to expectation, she survived the night. She continued till ten minutes after one, when I saw the last gentle breath escape, and one more w:s a>Mel 'to that multitude which no man can number, who siiiir the prai-<;s of God and of the Lamb for ever ami ev.-r.'" Her remains were interred on the 13th of Sep- tember, beside those of her si>ters, in the church- yard ofWrington, not far from the grave of Locke. It was her own wish that her funeral should be private, ami that, instead of money being expended in useless show, suits of mourning should be given 262 WOMEN OF WOKTH. to fifteen old men, whom she nominated. The bells of all the churches were tolled as the cortege passed through Bristol, and a short distance from Wrington the whole of the gentlemen of the neigh- bourhood joined the procession. But perhaps the most affecting part of all the pageant was the lines of weeping villagers formed on each side of the road, every one in the nearest approximation to mourning that poverty would allow. ANN 1 1 AXMAX. 263 THE SCULPTOR'S ASSISTANT. ANN FLAXMAN, WIFE of John Flaxman, the celebrated sculptor, deserves a place among distinguished women, for the admirable manner in which she devoted herself to sustain her husband's genius, and aid him in his arduous career. Her maiden name was Denman: she married John Flaxman when he was about twenty-seven years old, and she twenty-two. They had been for some time mutually attached to each other ; but he was poor in purse, and though on the road to fame, had no one but this chosen partner of his life who sympathized in his success. She was amiable and accomplished, had a taste for art and literature, was skilful in French and Italian, and, like her hus- band, had acquired some knowledge of the Greek. But what was better than all, she was an enthusi- astic admirer of his genius she cheered and en- couraged him in his moments of despondency regulated modestly and prudently his domestic economy arranged his drawings managed now and then his correspondence, and acted in all par- 264 WOMEN OF WORTH. ticulars so that it seemed as if the church, in per- forming a marriage, had accomplished a miracle, and blended them really into one flesh and one blood. That tranquility of mind, so essential to those who live by thought, was of his household ; and the sculptor, happy in the company of one who had taste and enthusiasm, soon renewed with double zeal the studies which courtship and matri- mony had for a time interrupted. He had never doubted that in the company of her whom he loved he should be able to work with an intenser spirit ; but of another opinion was Sir Joshua Reynolds. " So, Flaxman," said the President, one day as he chanced to meet him, " I am told you are married ; if so, sir, I tell you you are ruined for an artist." Flaxman went home, sat down beside his wife, took her hand, and said, with a smile, "I am ruined for an artist." "John," said she, "how has this happened, and who has done it?" "It happened," said he, " in the church, and Ann Den- man has done it : I met Sir Joshua Reynolds just now, and he said marriage had ruined me in my profession." For a moment a cloud hung on Flaxman's brow; but this worthy couple understood each other too well, to have their happiness seriously marred by the unguarded and peevish remark of a wealthy old bachelor. They were proud, determined peo- ple, who asked no one's advice, who shared their domestic secrets with none of their neighbors, and lived as if they were unconscious that they were in ANN FLA X.MAN. 265 the midst of a luxurious city. "Ann," said the sculptor, " I have long thought that I could rise to di>tinetion in art without studying in Italy, but these words of Reynolds have determined me. I shall go to Rome as soon as my affairs are fit to be left; and to show him that wedlock is tor a man's good rather than his harm, you shall accompany me. If I remain here, I shall be accused of igno- rance concerning those noble works of art which are to the sight of a sculptor what learning is to a man of genius, and you will lie under the charge of detaining me." In this resolution Mrs. Flaxman fully concurred. They resolved to prepare them- selves in >ilence for the journey, to inform no one of their intentions, and to set, meantime, a still stricter wateh over their expenditure. No a>*i-t- ance was proflercd by the Academy, nor was any asked ; and five years elapsed from the day of the nieiiioraMe speech of the president, before Flax- man, by incessant study and labor, had accumu- lated the means of departing for Italy. They went together; and in all his subsequent labors and triumphs, the wife was his good angel. For thirty-eight years Flaxman lived wedded his health was generally good, his spirits ever equal; and his wife, to whom his fame was happi- ness, had been always at his side. She was a most cln t-rful, intelligent woman; a collector, too, of drawings and >k tclu s, and an admirer of Stothard, of whose designs and prints she had amassed more than a thousand. Her husband paid her the double 266 "WOMEN OF WORTH. respect due to affection and talent ; and when any difficulty in composition occurred, he would say, with a smile, "Ask Mrs. Flaxman, she is my dic- tionary." She maintained the simplicity and dig- nity of her husband, and refused all presents of paintings, or drawings, or books, unless some recip- rocal interchange were made. It is almost need- less to say that Flaxman loved such a woman very tenderly. The hour of their separation approached she fell ill, and died in the year 1820 ; and from the time of this bereavement, something like a lethargy came over his spirit, although he, as his biographer remarks, was "surrounded with the applause of the world." He surrived his wife six years. MRS. WORDSWORTH. 267 THE POET'S COMPANION. MRS. WORDSWORTH. [rmO* A HMMOV rUACBKD IX WBSTMIJCSTER ADIJCY OX TBB SCTfDAT AFTER UEK DKATU.] "There b M>me ttaading here that shall not taste of death." MATT. xvi. S3. LET us not imagine that these words are appli- cable merely to eminent saints and martyrs. They are realized every day and every hour, in the peaceful dissolution of all who depart hence in the true faith and fear of God. Far be from us, my brethren, the spirit of irrev- erent curiosity, which pries into the sanctities of private death-beds, and reveals their secrets to the world. But when Almighty God takes to himself the spirits of just men and holy women, and when: their mortal remains are consigned to the peaceful chambers of the tomb, in the hope of a glorious resurrection, then Christian piety loves to linger at their graves, and to ponder on the lessons of wis- dom which may bo learnt from their examples. Bear with me, therefore, my beloved brethren, in making hero a passing allusion to one who de- 268 WOMEN OF WORTH. parted this life in the bygone week, full of years and good works, and whose body now rests in peace by the side of a mountain stream, in a quiet country churchyard. Let me be permitted to invite yon to meditate for a few moments by the side of that grave. It is not the grave of a soldier, illustrious for heroic deeds, it is not the grave of a statesman, distin- guished by political wisdom and brilliant elo- quence; it is not the grave of any of the noble or great of this world ; but it is the grave of an aged widow, who lived in retirement in a beautiful spot, in a fair region of our own land ; and it is not for any personal purpose, but for the sake of the public lessons of religious wisdom which may thence be derived, that you are now invited to pause for a moment there. She was the wife of an English poet, who ap- peared before the world at the close of the last cen- tury one whose poems were at first received with cold indifference or disdainful scorn, except by some few prophetic spirits who acknowledged their value and augured their fame one who, nothing daunted by harsh judgments and rash censures, not cast down by despondency, not irritated by obloquy, not brooding in sullen moodiness over his own ill-requited labors but, conscious of the secret breathings of poetic inspiration stirring within him, toiled on calmly and quietly, devoting the intellec- tual gifts he had received from God to the glory of the great Giver, and to the welfare of human MK8. WORD6WOKTH. 269 kind, in interpreting to the world the beautiful mag- nificence of nature, and in throwing a veil of grace- ful delicacy over the common concerns of daily life, ane; the lame which h had earned in Eng- land was echoed across the Atlantic, with a voice of cordial assent, from every part of America ; and at lengtlu, after his death, his memory was honored by a monument erected by public contributions, in this sacred Minster, in this mausoleum of national genius, amid the tropliies of national glory. And what now is onr moral? what is our reli- gious inference from these facts ? How were they brought to pass ? Where, let us ask, under God, was a mainspring of the comfort which rli< him in days of diiliculty and of chilling neglect? Whence was the genial light which gleamed over bis path ? 270 WOMEN OF WORTH. It was as he himself has declared in his pub- lished writings it was in his marriage union. It was in his conjugal partnership with a holy and virtuous woman, whose price is above rubies. It was in his wedded life, in holy fellowship with one who was richly endued with "the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which (as the Apostle testi- fies) is in the sight of God of great price." (1 Pet. iii. 3.) This it was which gave consolation and joy to his hours of care and sadness, and minis- tered strength and courage for his noble intellec- tual work. This it was which conduced to im- part a holy fragrance and a healthful tone to his writings, and made them more instrumental in the diffusion of public and permanent good in this and other lands Blessed consummation! leaving a beautiful ex- ample of the salutary influence exercised by wo- man's love, by woman's faith, by woman's quiet- ness, meekness, gentleness, holiness, over men of vigorous minds, endued with great intellectual gifts, and stirred by strong emotions, such as are generally found in those who are endued with poetic genius, and are fired with fervid imagina- tions. The influence of holy womanhood on such minds as these is like that of a spiritual gravitation. It is like that elemental influence of attraction, never seen, but always felt, which acts upon the heavenly bodies themselves, and controls those planetary luminaries, traveling in their rapid course, and keeps them in their proper spheres, and makes MBS. WORDSWORTH, 271 them ministers of light, of health, and joy to the world. 1 Ivre let woman see her privileges, here let her recognize her powers. Her might is in meekness. " In quietness shall be your strength." (Isa. xxx. 15.) It resides in the hidden springs of the heart, in holy instincts, and delicate reserve, and modest reverence, and tender sensibilities, 2T2 WOMEN OF WORTH. THE CHRISTIAN HEROINE. HARRIET NEWELL. THE first American heroine of the missionary enter- prise, was born at Haverhill, Massachusetts, Octo- ber 10th, 1793. Pier maiden name was Atwood. In 1806, while at school at Bradford, she became deeply impressed with the importance of religion ; and, at the age of sixteen, she joined the church. On the 9th of February, 1812, Harriet Atwood married the Rev. Samuel Newell, missionary to the Burman empire ; and in the same month, Mr. and Mrs. Newell embarked with their friends, Mr. and Mrs. Judson, for India. On the arrival of the missionaries at Calcutta, they were ordered to leave by the East India company ; and accordingly Mr. and Mrs. Newell embarked for the Isle of France. Three weeks before reaching the island she became the mother of a child, which died in five days. On the 30th of November, seven weeks and foar days after her confinement, Mrs. Harriet Newell, at the age of twenty, expired, far from her home and friends. She was one of the first females who ever went from this country as a missionary ; HARRIKT XI-.W1 I.I. 273 and she was the first who died a martyr to the of missions. That there is a time, even in the season of youth and the flush of hope, when it is " better to die than to live," even to attain our \vi-h for this world, Harriet Newell is an example. Ilt-r mt earnest wish was to do good for the W of Christ, and be of service in teaching his gospel to the heathen. Her early death has, ap- parently, done this, better and more efteetually, than the longest life and most arduous labors of any one of the noble band of American women who have gone forth on this errand of love and hope. In the language of a recent writer on this subject, "Heroines of the Missionary Enterprise," Harriet Newell was the great proto-martyr of Amer- ican mi-sions. She fell, wounded by death, in the very vestibule of the sacred cause. Her memory belongs, not to the body of men who sent her forth, not to the denomination to whose creed she li.i-l MiliM-ribed, but to the church, to the cause of missions. With the torch of truth in her hand, she Ir'l tin- way down into a valley of darkness, through which many have followed. Her work was short, her toil soon ended ; but she fell, cheering by her dying words and her high example, the missiona- ries of all coming time. She was the first, but not the only martyr. Heathen l:m are dotted over with the graves of fallen Christians; missionary women sleep on almost every >hore, and the bones of some are whitening in the fathomless depths of the ocean. 18 274: WOMEN OF WOKTH. Never will the influence of the devoted woman whose life and death are here portrayed, be es- timated properly, until the light of an eternal day shall shine on all the actions of men. We are to measure her glory, not by what she suffered, for others have suffered more than she did. But we must remember that she went out when the mis- sionary enterprise was in its infancy when even the best of men looked upon it with suspicion. The tide of opposition she dared to stem, and with no example, no predecessor from American shores, she went out to rend the veil of darkness which gathered over all the nations of the East. Things have changed since then. Our missiona- ries go forth with the approval of all the good ; and the odium which once attended such a life is swept away. It is to some extent a popular thing to be a missionary, although the work is still one of hardship and suffering. It is this fact which gathers such a splendor around the name of Har- riet Newell, and invests her short eventful life with such a charm. She went when no foot had trodden out the path, and was the first American mission- ary ever called to an eternal reward. "While she slumbers in her grave, her name is mentioned with affection by a missionary church. And thus it should be. She has set us a glorious example ; she has set an example to the church in every land and age, and her name will be mingled with the loved ones who are falling year by year ; and if, when the glad millennium comes, and the earth is con- HARRIET NEWELL. 275 verted to God, some crowns brighter tha& others shall be seen amid the throng of the ransomed, one of those crowns will be found upon the head of Harriet Newell." "History is busy with us," said Marie Antoi- nette; and the hope that her heroic endurance of ignominy and suffering would be recorded, and en- sure the j)ity and admiration of a future ag^doubt- less nerved her to sustain the dignity of a queen throughout the deep tragedy of her fate. The noblest heroism of a woman is never thus self-conscious. The greatest souls, those who elevate humanity and leave a track of light "as stars go down" when passing away from earth, never look back for the brightness. A woman with such a soul is absorbed in her love for others, and in her duty toward God. She does what she can, feeling constantly how small is the mite she gives; and the worth which it is afterward discovered to bear would, probably, astonish the giver far more than it does the world. Harriet Newell died at the early -age of twenty, leaving a journal and a few letters, the record of her religious feelings and the events of her short missionary life. These fragments have been pub- li>lu-il, making a little book. Such is her contribu- tion to literature; yet this small work has been and is now of more importance to the intellectual progress of the world than all the works of Madame de Stacl. The writings of Harriet Newell, trans- lated into several tongues, and published in many 276 WOMEN OF WOKTH. editions, have reached the heart of society, and assisted to build up the throne of woman's power, even the moral influence of her sex over men ; and their intellect can never reach its highest elevation but through the medium of moral cultivation. SAKAH LANMAN SMITH. 277 THE MISSIONARY'S WIFE. SARAH LANMAN SMITH, WAS born in Norwich, Connecticut, June 18, 1802. Her lather was Jabez Huntington, Esq. Her biographer, Rev. Edward W. Hooker, says of her early years, after describing her sufferings from ill health during childhood, and also from the severity of a school-mistress, which circumstances, added to the death of her mother, had the effect to bring out great decision and sometimes wilfulness of character : "But with these things in childhood, showing that she was a subject of that native depravity in which all the human race are 'guilty before God,' she exhibited, as she was advancing in the years of youth, many of the virtues which arc useful and lovely; and prohaHy went as far in those excel- lences of natural character on which many en- dravor to build their hope of salvation, as almost any unconverted persons do ; carrying with her, however, the clear and often disturbing conviction, that the best virtues which she practised were not holiness, nor any evidence of fitness for heaven. 2T8 WOMEN OF WORTH. "She was exceedingly attached to her friends. Her father was almost her idol. The affection for her mother, who was so early removed by death, she transferred with exemplary tenderness, to her step-mother; and it is believed the instances are rare in which the parties are uniformly happier in each other, in that relation, than were Mrs. Hun- tington and this daughter. Her warmth and ten- derness of affection as a sister were also peculiar and exemplary. Her childhood and youth were marked with great delicacy of mind and manners ; diligence, promptitude, and efficiency in her under- takings ; love of system and fondness for study, improvement, and the acquirement of useful knowl- edge, joined with a great desire to answer the wishes and expectations of her friends. Dutiful- ness and respect for her parents and grandparents ; reverence for her superiors generally ; readiness to receive advice or admonition ; a just appreciation of the good influence of others, and a spirit of cau- tiousness respecting whatever might be injurious to her own character, were also prominent traits in her habits. Disinterestedness and self-denial for the benefit of others were conspicuous. Long be- fore she became a subject of divine grace, she took an interest in various objects of benevolence, particularly Sabbath-schools; and exhibited that spirit of enterprise, patience, and perseverance, in aiding the efforts of others, which constituted so prominent an excellence in her character in the later years of her life. Self-government ; economy SARAH LANMAX SMITH. 270 in the use of her time and pocket-money ; tastcful- ness in dress, without extravagance ; and a careful and conscientious consideration of her father's re- sources, also were observable in her early habits. The.-i' trait-* are not mentioned because they are not found in many other young persons, but be- cause they appeared in her in an uncommon de- gree." The virtues and graces of character enumerated do not, it is true, constitute the holiness of a Chris- tian that is, the especial gift of the Holy Spirit, to sanctity the heart ; but they do show a state of feeling naturally inclined to the moralities of life, to which sin, acted out, would have been at u en- mity .** Iler " moral sense " was refined and en- lightened ; she only needed the breath of divine grace to turn her heart to God ; all her ways were in harmony with his laws; while converted men have, usually, the whole inner course of their lives to alter, or at least to put off the "old max with his deeds /" which is the struggle of a carnal nature women do not often have to undergo. Mrs. Smith is a tnse and lovely illustration of the noblest type of feminine nature. She commenced 1 her office as teacher in a Sunday-school, at the age of fourteen, before she was a convert to Jesus ; that is, before she had yielded her will to the convictions of her reason and the promptings of her best feelings, and determined to live the life of duty, and seek her own happiness in doing good to others. This 80 WOMEN OF WORTH. change took place when she was about eighteen years old ; from that time all was harmony in her soul ; she had found the true light, and she followed it till she entered heaven. In 1833, Miss Hunting- ton was married to the Rev. Eli Smith, of the American mission at Beyroot, Syria ; and she went to that remote region as the " help meet " for a humble missionary. She was singularly fitted for this important station, having been a voluntary missionary to the miserable remnant of a tribe of the Mohegan Indians ; she had thus tested her powers and strengthened her love for this arduous work in the cause of doing good. Her letters to her father and friends, while reflecting on this im- portant step of a foreign mission, will be intensely interesting to those who regard this consecration of woman to her office of moral teacher as among the most efficient causes of the success of the Gos- pel. The literary merits of her writings are of a high order; we venture to say, that, compared with the " Journals " and " Letters " of the most eminent men in the missionary station, those of Mrs. Smith will not be found inferior in merits of any kind. Her intellect had been cultivated ; she could, therefore, bring her reasoning powers, as well as her moral and religious sentiments, to bear on any subject discussed ; the following is proof in point. The powerful competition which the mis- sionary cause held in Miss Huntington's affections, with her home and all its pleasant circumstances, SARAH I.A.VM AN SMITH. 281 may be learned from two or three sentences in one of her letters written a few months before she left IHT country. "To make and receive visits, ex- change friendly salutations, attend to one's ward- robe, cultivate a garden, read good and entertain- ing books, and even attend religious meetings for one's own enjoyment ; all this does not satisfy me. I want to be where every arrangement will have unreserved and constant reference to eternity. On mi-.-ionary ground I expect to find new and un- looked lor trials and hindrances; still it is my choice to be there. And so far from looking upon it as a difficult task to sacrifice my home and coun- try, I feel as if I should 'flee as a bird to her mountain.' " Such are the helpers Christian men may sum- mon to their aid, whenever they will provide for the education of woman and give her the office of teacher, for which God designed her. Mrs. Smith accompanied her husband to Bey- root, and was indeed his " help " and good angel. She studied Arabic ; established a school for girls ; exerted her moral and Christian influence with i;rrat effect on the mixed population of Moslems, Syrians, Jews ; visiting and instructing the mothers as well as the children; working with all her heart Mii-l soul, mind and might; and the time of her M-rvice soon expired. She died September 30th, 1830, aged thirty-four; a little over three years from the time she left her own dear land. She died at Boojah, near Smyrna; and in the burial 282 WOMEN OF WORTH. ground of the latter her precious dust reposes, be- neath a monument which does honor to America, by showing the heroic and holy character of her missionary daughters. LADY WARWICK. 283 TILE LABORER IN THE VINEYARD. LADY WARWICK. TIIE Right Honorable Mary, Countess of Warwick, was celebrated alike for her piety and accomplish- ments. She was born in November, in the year 1624, and died April 12th, 1677, aged 53. Her life extended over those years of the eventful sev- enteenth century which saw the splendor, the fall, and the restoration of the Stuart dynasty. Lady Warwick's maiden name was Mary Boyle. She was the daughter of that Mr. Richard Boyle, born 1566, who, from the position of a private gen- tleman, rose by his merits to be the first, or great Earl of Cork. She had seven brothers and seven sisters, several of whom became illustrious; espe- cially the Honorable Robert Boyle, who attained BO much eminence as a Christian philosopher. Lady Warwick had only two children, a daugh- ter, who died young, and that promising young nobleman, Lord Rich, who died in 1664. Her life affords us a conspicuous proof that there existed among the nobility and gentry of her period some persons of devoted piety who do not make 284 WOMEN OF WORTH, much figure in our historical annals, as they pur- posely kept themselves as free as possible from the numerous political perturbations of the times in which they lived. Her "Diary" furnishes a vivid and graphic pic- ture not only of her ladyship's character, but of the actual every-day life of her contemporaries; and also alludes to many events of the time which have been too little noticed by other writers. It affords us a peep behind the curtain at the secret history of the leading persons of the age, which is alike interesting and improving to reflective read- ers. On the whole, Lady Warwick stands before us as an eminently devout and excellent character. Her life and writings present to our fellow-coun- trywomen especially those in the higher classes a noble picture of the true piety, dignity, and grace which the daughters, wives, and mothers of England should seek to cultivate and to display. The most important biographical notice of her that has yet appeared is in a work of her friend and pastor, Dr. Anthony Walker. It bears this singular title : " The Virtuous Woman Found, her Loss Bewailed, and Character Exemplified, in a Sermon preached at Felsted, in Essex, April 30th, 1678, at the funeral of that most excellent lady the Right Honorable and eminently religious and char- itable Mary, Countess Dowager of Warwick, the most illustrious pattern of sincere piety and solid goodness this age hath produced: with BO large LADY WARWICK. 285 additions, as may be styled, The Life of that Noble Lady. To which are annexed, some of her Lady- ship's Pious and Useful Meditations : by Anthony Walker, D.D., and rector of Fyfield, in the same county." The first edition of this work was printed for Nathaniel Ranew, St. Paul's Churchyard, A. D. 1678, and another A. D. 1687, and it is from this graphic memoir, written with so much of the old- world warmth, fulness, and directness, that the following picture of Lady Warwick's grave but winning character is taken. God made use of two more remote means of her conversion afflictions and retirement. Like the wise man in the Gospel, Matt. vii. 24, she dug deep to lay her foundation on a rock. She made a strict scrutiny into the state of her soul, and weighed the reasons of her choice on the balance of the sanctuary. And, with the other builder of the Gospel, sat down and considered with herself what it might cost to finish her spir- itual edifice, and whether she were furnished to defray that charge. And also whether the grounds of her hope were firm, and such as would not abuse and shame her, and her evidences for heaven such as would bear the test and Scripture would approve. An account of this self-examination she drew up at large, with her own hand, judiciously, soberly, modestly, humbly. Having thus put her hand to the plough, she 286 WOMEN OF WORTH. looked not back, but minded religion as her busi- ness indeed, and never gave suspicion of trifling in so serious a work. Therefore, for her practice of it, it was her great design to walk worthy of God in all well pleasing, to adorn her professed subjection to the gospel by a conversation becoming it, and to show forth his virtues and praises who had called her to his mar- velous light. She was circumspectly careful to abstain from all appearance of evil. In all doubtful cases, it was her rule to take the surest side. Though, there- fore, none were further from censuring others, or usurping judgment over their liberties, yet for her- self she would never allow herself the addition of artificial handsomeness. She used neither paint nor patch, and was pleased with the saying of one of her spiritual friends, upon reading the book which apologizes for it : " O Lord, I thank thee that thou gavest me not wit enough to write such a book, unless withal thou hadst given me grace enough not to write it." Neither would she play at any games ; because, beside many other incon- veniences, she judged them great wasters of pre- cious time, of which she was always very thrifty. And though she was known to be a woman of good understanding, yet there were three things that were too hard for her, and she would confess she could not comprehend them : 1. How those who professed to believe an eter- nal state, and its dependence upon the short inch ULDY WARWICK. 287 of time, could complain of time lying as a dead commodity on their hand, which they were troubled how to drive away. 2. How Christians, who would seem devout at church, could laugh at others for being serious out of it, and burlesque the very Bible, and turn reli- gion into ridicule. 3. How knowing men could take care of souls, and seldom come amongst them, and never look after them. And though, in the fore-named particulars, she was content only to give example of forbearance ; yet from the playhouse, since the stage hath taken so great liberty, she would openly dehort her friends with the greatest earnestness. She very many years since began to keep a diary ; and consulted two, whom she used to call her soul-friends and ever esteemed such her best friends concerning the best manner of performing it This "diary" she used at first to write every evening ; but finding that inconvenient, by reason of her lord's long illness, which gave her many inevitable diversions and interruptions at that season, she changed the time into the quiet, silent morning, always rising early. And therein, amongst other things, she recorded the daily frame of her own heart toward God, his signal providences to herself and sometimes toward others, his gracious manifestations to her soul, returns of prayer, temp- tations resisted or prevailing ; or whatever might be useful for caution or encouragement, and afford 288 WOMEN OF WORTH. her matter of thankfulness or humiliation. By this means she arrived at such experience that she could conclude (at least make strong conjectures) of the events of things she spread before the Lord in prayer, by the frame of her own heart in the performance of it, as I could instance in particulars if it were convenient. She used to call prayer, " heart' s-ease ;" as she often found it ; and though her modesty was such, and she was so far from a vain affected ostentation, of her gifts, that I cannot name one person with whom she prayed, yet can I say she was as mighty and fervent in prayer as constant and abundant in it : for she sometimes, using her voice, hath been overheard ; and her own lord, knowing her hours of prayer, once conveyed a grave minister into a secret place within hearing ; who, if I should name him, I suppose would not be denied to be a com- petent judge, and who much admired her humble fervency; for she, praying, prayed; and when she used not an audible voice, her sighs and groans would echo from her closet at a good distance. But if she exceeded herself in any thing as much as she excelled others in most things, it was in meditation : this was her master-piece. She usually walked two hours daily in the morning to meditate alone ; in which divine art she was an accomplished mistress, both in set times and occasional. In the first, choosing some select subject, which she would press upon her heart with intensest thoughts till she had drawn out all its juice and nourishment; LADY WARWICK. 289 and in the second, like a spiritual boe, she would suck honey from all occurrences, whole volumes of which she hath left behind her. After this consecrating of the day with reading the Scriptures, prayer, and meditation, a short dressing-time, and ordering her domestic affairs, or reading some good book, she spent the remain- der of the morning till chapel-prayers, from which she was never absent, and at which she was ever reverent and a devout example to her whole family. She was a strict observer of the Lord's day, which is truly called the hedge and fence of reli- gion ; and though some please themselves to call this Judaizing, to excuse the liberties they indulge themselves, I am sure our church hath enjoined us all to cry to God for mercy for the breach of, and for the grace to incline our hearts to keep the fourth commandment, as well as any of the other nine. And it is not hard to observe that the streams of religion are deep or shallow according as those banks are kept up or neglected. She was a very devout communicant, seldom omitting to prepare her soul with solemn fasting to renew her covenant with God. And hi the act of receiving, I cannot think of her without reflecting on St. Stephen, when he saw the heavens opened and Jesus standing at God's right hand, and his face was as the face of an angel. She was a very serious and attentive hearer of the word, and constantly after sermon recollected 19 290 WOMEW OF WORTH. what she heard sometimes by writing, always by thinking, and calling it to mind that she might make it her own, and turn it into practice; not content to be a forgetful, fruitless hearer only, but a doer, that she might be blessed in her deed. And such she was for the external performances of religion. And though this was beautiful and lovely, yet her chief glory was wkhin, in the hidden man of the heart, in that which is not corruptible, in that dress of graces which adorned her soul. This string was all of orient pearls, and evenly matched, not one ill-watered or of unequal size. There was not one dried or withered limb, one member want- ing or defective in the new creature ; she was com- plete in Christ, all of a piece. She avowedly designed io represent religion as amiable and taking, and free from vulgar prejudice, as possibly she might; not so as might affright and scare men from it, but that it might allure them, and insinuate itself into their love and liking. To this end she was affable, familiar, pleasant, of a free and agreeable conversation, unaffected, not sour, reserved, morose, nor disposed to melancholy, which presents religion most disadvantageously. She was naturally of the sweetest temper in the world ; and grace, inoculated into such a stock, thrives even luxuriantly. Whereas, some crabbed, peevish, sul len natures starve the best scion they are grafted with. And she made grace and nature both sub- servient to the good of others. LADT WARWICK. 291 As we say of some neat, well-fashioned persons, " whatever they wear becomes them, and sits well," I must do her this right to testify I never saw re- ligion become any person better. And it was hard not to approve and love a dress so decent and adorning. She kept herself free and disinterested from all parties and factions, that none might suspect her of a design of making proselytes to any but to God. She was neither of Paul, nor Apollos, nor Cephas, but only Christ. Her name was Christian, and her surname Catholic. She had a large and unconfined soul, not hemmed in or pounded up within the circle of any man's name or drawing ; a latitudina- rian in the true commendable sense ; and whoever feared God and wrought righteousness was accept- ed of her. She very inoffensively, regularly, devoutly, ob- served all the orders of the Church of England, in its Liturgy and public service, which she failed not to attend twice a day with exemplary reverence ; yet was she very far from placing religion in ritual observances. And I may not deny that she would sometimes warm her heart (though never with strange fire) at private altars in her own "chamber or closet. She would perfume the company with good dis- course, to prevent idle or worse communication, not abruptly, upbraidingly, or importunely, which is very nauseous and fulsome, and spoils a good 292 WOMEN OF WOKTH. game by bad playing. But she was like a spiritual stove; you should feel the heat and not see the fire, and find yourself in other company amongst the same persons, and rather wonder than perceive how you came there. For she would drop a wise sentence or moral holy apothegm (with which she was admirably furnished, of her own making or collection) that suited with, at least was not far remote from what was talked of; and commending or improving that, she would wind about the whole discourse without offence, yea, with plea- sure. She kept a book of such wise pithy sayings, much valuing words which contained great use and worth in little compass. I shall transcribe a few of many : "The almost Christian is the unhappiest man; having religion enough to make the world hate him, and not enough to make God love him. " God's servants should be as bold for him as the devil's are for him. " What will make thee happy at any time will make thee happy at all times. " O Lord, what I give thee doth not please thee, unless I give thee myself. So what thou givest me shall not satisfy me, unless thou give me thy- self. " O Lord, who givest grace to the humble, give me grace to be humble. "He loves God too little, who loves anything with him, which he loves not for him. LADY WARWICK. 293 " The true measure of loving God is to love him without measure. " So speak of God as though men heard thee ; so speak to men as knowing God hears thee. " Seneca said, he was better born than to be a slave to his body. " Luther said, Christ's cross is no letter ; yet it taught him more than all the alphabet. " We should meditate of Christ's cross till we be fastened as close to him as he was to his cross. ' " By how much th more Christ made himself vile for us, by so much the more precious he should be to us. " We need every day blood for our hearts, as water for our hands. " He only can satisfy us who satisfied for us. "He that takes up Christ's cross handsomely shall find it such a burden as wings to a bird, or sails to a ship. 44 It is a great honor to be almoner to the King of heaven. " Who would not starve a lust to feed a saint ? u To give is the greatest sensible delight ; how indulgent, then, is God to annex future rewards to what is so much its own recompense ! ** To be libeled for Christ is the best panegyric. "Where affliction is heavy sin is light. "God chastises whom he loves, but he loves not to chastise. " Sin brought death into the world, and nothing but death will carry sin out of the world. 294: WOMEN OF WORTH. " If all men's troubles were brought into a com- mon store, every one would carry back what he brought rather than stand to a share of an equal division. " Though time be not lasting, what depends on it is everlasting. " The best shield against slanderers is to live so that none may believe them. "He that revenges an injury acts the part of an executioner. He that pardons it acts the part of a prince. " Sanctified afflictions are spiritual promotions. " Man is a pile of dust and puff of wind. " Why are we so fond of that life which begins with a cry and ends with a groan ?" But I will not cloy you ; knowing it is safest to rise with an appetite, even when we are entertained at a banquet. It would require a volume to follow the biogra- pher with his review of Lady Warwick, as a wife, as a friend, as a mother, a landlady, and the mistress of a great household always affectionate, dignified, and charitable. The poor, the young children, and young scholars of promise were the objects of her special and unfailing care. But methinks I hear it asked, says the worthy chaplain, "What ! had she no spots, no scars, no real nor imputed blemishes ? how could she live in such an age and not be corrupted, or at least tra- duced ; neither scorched by the fire of infection, nor blackened by the smoke of revengeful detrac- LADY WARWICK. 295 tion,. for upbraiding the guilty by her innocence ? Tliis overdoing is undoing, if you make us believe she had no faults ; we shall sooner believe you have no truth ; and all that you have said hath more of romance and what you fancy than narrative of what she- was or did." I confess it is next to a miracle to consider both how divine grace enlarged her heart and estab- li-lH-cl her goings, and restrained the tongues of others from reproach or showing dislike of that in her for which they deride and hate, not to say per- secute others. But since you are so inquisitive, and seem to deny me the just and civil freedom to draw a veil of silence over her imperfections, and your curiosity will be peeping under that sacred pall which should secure and shroud the worst of men from being pried into ; and the vault and grave, that place of darkness and forgetfulncss, which should bury all defects and render them invisible, must be ran- sacked: draw back the curtains, let in the light, survey its secret recesses; nor she, nor I in her behalf, fear the most piercing eagle-eye or scent. Not that I deny Ircr to have been a sinner while I adore that grace that made her a saint. But these two things I say and will adhere to. First, that she was not notoriously defective in any grace or virtue. Secondly, she was never stained with any scan- dalous deformity : another rare mercy ; for though she did slip now and then, or stumble, if you will, 296 WOMEN OF WORTH. she fell not, much less lay or wallowed to defile her garments ; which I testify not only from mine own observation but her own pen. She says, "After God had thus savingly (I hope) wrought upon me, I went on constantly, comfortably, in my Christian course, though I had many doubts and fears to contend with ; and did truly obey that precept of working out my salvation with fear and trembling ; yet God was pleased to carry me still onward; and though I too often broke my good resolutions, I never renounced them ; and though I too often tripped in my journey to heaven, yet I never for- sook my purpose of going thither." I never heard her blamed for more than two faults by the most curious observers and inspectors of her disposition or behavior. 1. Excess of charity. 2. Defect of anger, or what was reducible to those two. Two goodly faults ! But even these admit apology more easily than they need it. 1. What was reputed the culpable excess of hex charity was her credulous easiness to beh'eve most people good, or at least better than they were. I confess she did bend a little to this right-hand error; but if it were a bad effect, it proceeded from a good cause. For, as it is observed, that as they who are conscious to themselves of some great evils, scarce can esteem any less nocent* than themselves ; so they that have clear and innocent * Noxious, injurious. LADY WARWICK. 297 hearts are ready to judge the like of others. "Charity thinketh no evil," and she used this good opinion of others as an instrument to make them what she was so willing to signify she thought them. But though she would never despair of any men while she found them under the awe of God's authority and word (for even those may receive some nourishment who eat against stomach, and the sieve under the pump may be cleansed, though it hold no water) yet if she observed a person to scorn or deride the Scriptures, despise God's ordinances, and turn all that was sacred into ridicule, she used, as her phrase was, to set her mark upon that man. And I must further add, she was neither so often or so much mistaken hi her judgment of persons as some supposed she was ; they more misinterpreting her civility than she did the other's sanctity. 2. For her defect of anger. This implies (if it be faulty) want of zeal against sin and sinners; and so it is an unjust charge ; for though I confess she could not rage and storm, and discover her anger, as some persons do who verify the saying, "Anger is a kind of madness," for her sedate, composed, serene mind, and sweet and amicable disposition were scarcely forcible to what was so contrary to her nature ; yet would she make deeper impressions of her displeasure for great faults, than those who appeared most curious ; like a still soak- ing shower, which will wet more than a driving storm. And therefore it was observed, that if any 298 WOMEN OF WORTH. servants had been faulty, they had rather have passed the gauntlet thrice of their lord's most furious expressions than have once been sent for to their lady's closet, whose treatment was soft words, but hard arguments against their faults; and like that silent lightning, which, without the noise of thunder, melts the blade and singeth not the scabbard. Her reproofs were neither the fright- ful hissing, nor the venomed sting, but the pene- trating oil of scorpions. This little is enough to extenuate her almost commendable faults ; and it is a great evidence of her goodness that these things were imputed as blemishes; for they who would not spare her in these little errors showed plainly that she was not chargeable with more or greater. Never did bird take wing when disentangled from a net with greater cheerfulness, nor chirp out the pleasures of its unconfined freedom more mer- rily, than she did solace herself, when she had escaped the noise and crowd of affairs, which ruffled and turmoiled her quiet, and suspended the enjoy- ment of herself. And when her dearest sister was, in the beginning of the last winter, about to leave her, her last farewell she took was in these words : "Now I have done my drudgery (meaning her business), I will set to the renewing of my prepa- rations for eternity ; and she made it the repeated business of the last winter. She on the Tuesday in Passion-week (March 26th, 1678) was taken with some indisposition, loss LADY WABWICK. 299 of appetite, and an aguish distemper, and had four or five fits, which yet in that season were judged both by physicians and her friends more advan- tageous to her health than dangerous to her life. And in this state she continued freed from her fits, in her own apprehension and in our hopes, till Friday, the 12th of April, on which day she rose with good strength, and after sitting up some time, being laid upon her bed, discoursing cheerfully and piously, one of the last sentences she spake was this, turning back the curtain with her hand : " Well, ladies, if I were one hour in heaven, I would not be again with you, as well as I love you." Thus lived, thus died, this right honorable lady, this heroic woman, this blessed saint, this incom- parable pattern of flaming zeal for the glory of God and burning charity for the good of men, in the actual exercise of prayer, according to her own desire. For there are many witnesses who have testified that they have often heard her say, that if she might choose the manner and circumstances of bx;r death, she would die praying, by which desire she so often anticipated heaven. 300 WOMEN OF WOKTEL THE GUAKDIAN ANGEL. LADY MACKINTOSH. [This noble tribute to a devoted wife is given in the " Memoirs" of Sir James Mackintosh, the "philosophical politician 11 and the hmnr.ne and upright judge one of the most able and estimable men ever Intrusted with the administration of justice.] ALLOW me, in justice to her memory, to tell you what she was, and what I owed her. I was guided in my choice only by the blind affection of my youth. I found an intelligent companion and a tender friend, a prudent monitress, the most faithful of wives, and a mother as tender as children ever had the misfortune to lose. I met a woman who, by the tender management of my weaknesses, gradually corrected the most pernicious of them. She became prudent from affection ; and though of the most generous nature, she was taught economy and frugality by her love for me. During the most critical period of my life, she preserved order in my affairs, from the care of which she relieved me. She gently reclaimed me from dissipation ; she propped my weak and irresolute nature; she urged my indolence to all the exertions that have been LADY MACKINTOSH. 301 useful or creditable to me ; and she was perpetually at hand to admonish my heedlessness and improvi- dence. To her I owe whatever I am ; to her what- ever I shall be. In her solicitude for my interest, she never for a moment forgot my feelings or my character. Even in her occasional resentment, for which I but too often gave her cause (would to God I could recall those moments!) she had no snllenness or acrimony. Her feelings were warm and impetuous, but she was placable, tender, and constant. Such was she whom I have lost ; and I have lost her when her excellent natural sense was rapidly improving, after eight years of struggle and distress had bound us fast together, and moulded our tempers to each other when a knowledge of her worth had refined my youthful love into friend- ship, before age had deprived it of much of its original ardor I lost her, alas ! (the choice of my youth and the partner of my misfortunes) at a mo- ment when I had the prospect of her sharing my better days. The philosophy which I have learned only teaches me that virtue and friendship are the greatest of human blessings, and that their loss is irreparable. It aggravates my calamity, instead of consoling me under it. My wounded heart seeks another con- solation. Governed by these feelings, which have in every age and region of the world actuated the human mind, I seek relief, and find it, in the sooth- ing hope and consolatory opinion that a Benevolent Wisdom inflicts the chastisement as well as bestows 302 WOMEN OF WORTH. the enjoyments of human life ; that Superintending Goodness will one day enlighten the darkness which surrounds our nature and hangs over our prospects ; that this dreary and wretched life is not the whole of man ; that an annual so sagacious and provident, and capable of such proficiency in science and vir- tue, is not like the beasts that perish ; that there is a dwelling-place prepared for the spirits of the just, and that the ways of God will yet be vindicated to man. The sentiments of religion which were im- planted in my mind in my early youth, and which were revived by the awful scenes which I have seen passing before my eyes in the world, are, I trust, deeply rooted in my heart by this great ca- lamity. THE END. 24598 uc somcm REGIONAL UBRARY FAOUTY 000 957 751 1 N ;