.dt The Project Gutenberg eBook of MODEL WOMEN
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Transcriber’s Note
When italics were used in the original book, the corresponding text has
been surrounded by _underscores_. The oe ligature has been represented by
the letters oe. The prime symbol has been represented by an acute accent (´).
Some corrections have been made to the printed text. These
are listed in a second transcriber’s note at the end of the text.
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.sp 4
.h1
.pn iii
MODEL WOMEN.
.nf c
BY
WILLIAM ANDERSON,
AUTHOR OF “SELF-MADE MEN,” “KINGS OF SOCIETY,” ETC., ETC.
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.hr 10%
.nf b
“Noble examples excite us to noble deeds.”—Seneca.
“She was feminine only by her sex—in mind she was superior to men.”
—Gregory Nazianzen.
“The woman’s cause is man’s: they rise or sink
Together, dwarfed or godlike, bond or free.”—Tennyson.
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.hr 10%
.il fn=i_003.jpg w=100px id='i01'
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London.
HODDER & STOUGHTON,
27, PATERNOSTER ROW.
MDCCCLXX.
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.pn iv
.il fn=i_004.jpg w=150px id='i02'
.pn v
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.h2
TO YOUNG WOMEN.
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My dear Friends,
.sp 1
This volume is dedicated to you, because I
believe in the principles it enunciates, and hope that
many of your sex may get them lodged in their
minds; and the conclusions to which they lead carried
out in their lives. While feeling a warm interest
in your honour, I have endeavoured to avoid all
indiscriminate eulogiums on the eminent women here
portrayed. The object of biography is to teach by
example; and although perfection is claimed for none
of the models here presented, yet each is worthy of
being enshrined in your hearts.
Whilst I should be sorry to see woman exchanging
her home for the market-place, and her nursery for
the arena, I am anxious that she should not be
robbed of some of the purest joys of life; and that
society, which so much needs her help, should not be
defrauded of her service. The housewife is woman’s
proudest name. Honourable is her distaff, and
equally honourable her careful management and
.pn vi
thrift. But while discharging these duties with propriety—while
taking nothing from her family—she
ought to give fair attention to the many grievous
wrongs which at present shackle her independence
and limit her usefulness. Woman is something more
than a mere housekeeper or nurse. Let her be trained
as a thinking being. By aiming at being only domestic,
she will cease to be truly domestic.
In my selection of examples, I have necessarily
been under the control of circumstances. Not a few
women, eminent in many respects, have been excluded
from this collection, because, in consequence of some
sad defects, they could not be held up as models of
true womanhood. Several fairly entitled to places
among “Model Women” would have been here, but,
happily, they are still living; and for various reasons
I determined to confine myself to the dead. My intention
has been to include only a few of the actors
and thinkers who have attained extensive celebrity;
and the difficulty of fixing upon these I have found
so great, that I am prepared to have the judiciousness
of my choice frequently questioned. But I trust a
sufficient number of lives are here recorded to kindle
in your breasts aspirations after those excellences
which adorn human existence.
The end of writing memoirs should be the exhibition
of truth in all its loveliness, and virtue with all
.pn vii
her charms. This object I have not lost sight of for
one moment in writing these pages; but directly or
indirectly have framed every sentence in accordance
with it.
Imperfections you will doubtless detect in this
volume; of some I am sufficiently aware; but am less
anxious to obtain your applause, or to bespeak your
candour, than to win your sympathy in my subject;
and I feel confident that whether you acquiesce in
few or many of my views, you will at least honour
the motive which prompted me to make them
known.
.nf r
I am,
Yours very cordially,
WILLIAM ANDERSON.
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.nf l
Cambridge Cottage, Merton, S.W.,
September, 1870.
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.pn ix
.sp 4
.h2
CONTENTS.
.sp 2
.ce
#CHAPTER I.:ch01#
.ce
TRUE WOMANHOOD.
Female education.—Physical training.—Intellectual development.—Moral
discipline.—Spiritual culture.—Education
complete
.rj
Page 1
.sp 2
.ce
#CHAPTER II.:ch02#
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PECULIARITIES OF FEMALE CHARACTER.
Woman in relation to man.—Corporeal organization.—Patient
endurance.—Caution.—Sympathy.—Love of
approbation.—Tenacity of purpose.—Modesty.—Discernment
of character.—Piety
.rj
Page 29
.sp 2
.ce
#CHAPTER III.:ch03#
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DOMESTIC WOMEN.
.ce
#Section I.—Susanna Wesley.:c3s1#
Woman’s sphere.—Biography.—A noble wife.—A good
mother.—Home education.—Relation to Methodism.—Character
of Mrs. Wesley
.rj
Page 55
.ce
#Section II.—Eliza Hessel.:c3s2#
Woman’s mission.—Biography.—A right purpose in life.—An
excellent daughter.—A loving sister.—Household
management.—Character of Miss Hessel
.rj
Page 72
.pn x
.sp 2
.ce
#CHAPTER IV.:ch04#
.ce
PHILANTHROPIC WOMEN.
.ce
#Section I.—Elizabeth Fry.:c4s1#
Woman’s work.—Biography.—Early schemes of usefulness.—The
prisoner’s friend.—Family bereavements.—Relative
duties.—Character of Mrs. Fry
.rj
Page 88
.ce
#Section II.—Amelia Wilhelmina Sieveking.:c4s2#
Woman’s rights.—Biography.—Amateur teaching.—Services
in the hospital.—Protestant sisterhoods.—Spinsters
respectable, happy, and useful.—Character of Miss
Sieveking
.rj
Page 104
.sp 2
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#CHAPTER V.:ch05#
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LITERARY WOMEN.
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#Section I.—Hannah More.:c5s1#
Literature.—Biography.—Successful authorship.—Character
of Mrs. More
.rj
Page 122
.ce
#Section II.—Anne Grant.:c5s2#
Letter-writers.—Biography.—Literary career.—Character of
Mrs. Grant
.rj
Page 135
.ce
#Section III.—Anne Louisa Staël.:c5s3#
Versatility of genius.—Biography.—Analysis of writings.—Character
of Mad. de Staël
.rj
Page 148
.ce
#Section IV.—Carolina, Baroness Nairne.:c5s4#
What is poetry.—Biography.—Extracts and criticisms.—Character
of Baroness Nairne
.rj
Page 162
.ce
#Section V.—Felicia Dorothea Hemans.:c5s5#
Lyric poetry.—Biography.—Review of poems.—Character
of Mrs. Hemans
.rj
Page 175
.pn xi
.ce
#Section VI.—Elizabeth Barrett Browning.:c5s6#
Epic poetry.—Biography.—Place as a poetess.—Character
of Mrs. Browning
.rj
Page 188
.ce
#Section VII.—Charlotte Nicholls. [Currer Bell.]:c5s7#
Works of fiction.—Biography.—Merits as a novelist.—Character
of Mrs. Nicholls
.rj
Page 200
.sp 2
.ce
#CHAPTER VI.:ch06#
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SCIENTIFIC WOMEN.
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#Section I.—Caroline Lucretia Herschel.:c6s1#
Astronomy.—Biography.—Astronomical discoveries.—Works
on astronomy.—Character of Miss Herschel.
.rj
Page 216
.ce
#Section II.—Jane Anne Taylor. [Janet Taylor.]:c6s2#
Navigation.—Biography.—Publications on navigation.—Nautical
and mathematical academy.—Character of
Mrs. Taylor
.rj
Page 228
.sp 2
.ce
#CHAPTER VII.:ch07#
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HOLY WOMEN.
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#Section I.—Selina, Countess of Huntingdon.:c7s1#
The gospel not a thing of sex.—Biography.—Conversion.—The
higher Christian life.—Chaplains.—Founder of a
religious community.—Character of the Countess of
Huntingdon
.rj
Page 241
.ce
#Section II.—Elizabeth, Duchess of Gordon.:c7s2#
Religion in high life.—Biography.—Regeneration.—Deepening
of the Lord’s work.—Open-air services.—Good
works.—Character of the Duchess of Gordon
.rj
Page 257
.pn xii
.ce
#Section III.—Mary Jane Graham.:c7s3#
Piety and circumstance.—Biography.—The great change.—Theological
attainments.—Practical religion.—Progress
and power.—Character of Miss Graham
.rj
Page 273
.ce
#Section IV.—Fidelia Fiske.:c7s4#
Christianity and human nature.—Biography.—Second and
better birth.—Juvenile habit of doing good.—Missionary
life.—Showers of blessing.—Character of Miss
Fiske
.rj
Page 289
.sp 2
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#CHAPTER VIII.:ch08#
FORMATION OF FEMALE CHARACTER.
Value and influence of character.—Original constitution.—Family
circle.—Society.—Impartative and receptive
elements.—Twofold operation of the mind
.rj
Page 308
.sp 2
.ce
#CHAPTER IX.:ch09#
NATURAL EQUALITY OF THE SEXES.
Difference and similarity.—Political equality.—Social
equality.—Intellectual equality.—Moral equality.—Religious
equality
.rj
Page 329
.pn 1
.sp 4
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MODEL WOMEN.
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.h2 id=ch01
CHAPTER I.||True Womanhood.
.sp 2
.nf b
“A perfect woman, nobly planned,
To warn, to comfort, and command;
And yet a spirit still and bright,
With something of an angel light.”
William Wordsworth.
.nf-
.sp 2
.ce
FEMALE EDUCATION.
.ti 0
The great question of the day is education. Daughters,
as well as sons, are born with faculties capable
of improvement; and the claims of the former to as
good an education as the latter are beyond dispute.
Indeed, some are of opinion that if either of the sexes
ought to have a superior education, that boon is the
birthright of females. Certainly, women have as important
duties to perform as men, and therefore their
discipline ought at least to be as strict.
In the more usual sense, education is the art of
drawing out, or developing, every part of your many-sided
nature. Its object, and when rightly conducted,
its result, is to make a perfect creature. Young
women are too often allowed to consider that education
.pn 2
is the work of girlhood. Strictly speaking, it
covers the whole area of life. A great living poet
truly says—
.nf b
“Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our being’s end or way;
But to live that each to-morrow
Finds us farther than to-day.”
.nf-
We often hear what a glorious thing it is to be a
man. With Daniel De Foe, and other great men, we
think it as glorious a thing to be a woman. “A woman,
well bred and well taught, furnished with the additional
accomplishments of knowledge and behaviour,
is a creature without comparison.” You are capable
of being moulded into the noblest types of womanhood.
There is no limit to your progress, no elevation
which you may not pass; your present attainments
are not the measure of your capabilities.
This book would be radically defective, and would
greatly fail in its purpose, did we not attempt to show
what woman can be, and what therefore she ought to
strive after. The best definition we can give of true
womanhood is, that it consists in having all the faculties,
physical, intellectual, moral, and spiritual, existing
in a healthy and vigorous condition, so as to be able
to perform, in an efficient manner, all the functions
for which they are destined. Our aim is bold, broad,
truthful delineation. We would not lead you to indulge
in baseless visions of future eminence; yet your nature
is such, that, did you act worthy of it, you might, with
the help of God, become more than we are able to
describe. The proudest and fairest ideal grows out
of the real, and the loftiest tree must have its roots in
the ground.
.pn 3
.sp 2
.ce
PHYSICAL TRAINING.
In education, as hitherto conducted, the physical
powers have not had their due share of attention.
Anatomy, physiology, and chemistry clearly teach that
the general principles which are true of the vital
processes in the lower animals are equally true of the
vital processes in human beings. But this has not
yet become a part of the living faith of the world.
Hundreds and thousands, even among the upper
classes, are as ignorant of the wonders and mysteries
of the human frame as if God had committed the
great practical solecism of making them incapable
of self-knowledge. The earth is full of wholesome
nourishment, the atmosphere is carefully mixed by a
Divine hand, to suit the wants of humanity. Spring,
summer, autumn, and winter are each beautiful. The
oak is strong, and the rose is lovely; the domestic
animals are full of vigour; but the young maiden
drops off, smitten by consumption, scrofula, or rapid
failure of the vital power. Happily, the laws of health
are beginning to attract attention, and we are coming
to the conclusion that this great blessing might be
much more common.
The principal components of the body will naturally
indicate and classify the topics for discussion in dealing
with the subject of physical education. The body
may be roughly described as an organisation of bones
and muscles, permeated by blood, covered with skin,
and containing a breathing and digestive apparatus.
The chief process by which life is maintained, and
health and strength developed, is the receiving of food.
That over-feeding and under-feeding are both bad
.pn 4
is a truism. Of the two, however, the latter is the
worse. Not only are there a priori reasons for trusting
the appetites, but there is no other guidance
worthy of the name. Instead of measuring your food
by an artificial standard, eat your fill. Have less
faith in human opinion, and more confidence in nature.
The current idea is, that diet should not only be restricted,
but comparatively low; but the verdict of
leading physicians and distinguished physiologists is
exactly the opposite. The grounds for this conclusion
are obvious. Compare different kinds of people, or the
same people when differently fed, and you will find
overwhelming evidence that the degree of energy
essentially depends upon the nutritiveness of the food.
Between the ill fed African and the well fed European
there is a contrast which no one can fail to notice.
Moreover, it is a fact, established by numerous experiments,
that there is scarcely one article of diet
which supplies all the elements necessary for carrying
on the vital processes; and hence, in order to good
bodily training, mixture and variety are highly important.
The proper beverage for the physical constitution
has been warmly discussed of late, and many
have, much to their own advantage, and that of society
at large, pronounced in favour of water; and although
it may not be easy to refute the argument for the
moderate use of stimulating liquors, produced from
the fruits of the earth by the process of fermentation,
in the earlier stages of life water is undoubtedly
the best drink at meals for the purpose of quenching
thirst.
A good supply of pure air is intimately connected
with bodily vigour. There are, in every country,
.pn 5
whole districts, of larger or smaller extent, in which
the air is either permanently or periodically noxious;
its bad qualities arising generally from the miasma of
fens, or the mud banks and mud deposits of rivers.
In all our towns, large or small, there are to be found
narrow streets, dark passages, small courts, and back
yards, where the atmosphere is always loaded with
impurities, in consequence of imperfect drainage, the
accumulation of filth, and the position of the buildings.
In such places, the inhabitants are, for the
most part, a feeble and sickly race. Even when
healthy, it is absolutely certain that the respiratory
organs should not always breathe the same atmosphere.
The unwholesome rooms in which children
are penned up, the close apartments where many
women are doomed to labour, and the smoke, chimneys,
and long rows of houses that hem in the path of
others, are producing sad havoc among the softer sex.
If you would have health, strength, and longevity,
you must now and then refresh your lungs, by taking
a stroll on a common, a walk by the sea-side, or
spending a day amid the ranges of the great hills
with their wild peaks and morning mists. The
breathing of fresh air is, we maintain, an essential
part of physical culture.
Cleanliness has a most important and salutary
influence on your material nature. In the skin of a
person of average size there are tubes connected with
the pores, measuring, if put end to end, twenty-eight
miles. These ought always to be kept open. Checked
perspiration is direct injury to the membranes of the
air passages, and frequently to the alimentary canal.
It is therefore necessary to remove from the skin all
.pn 6
refuse matter from within or without. This can only
be done by washing from head to foot every morning
and night. It is safe, and for many reasons most
beneficial, to use cold water. The flesh brush is of
great service in stimulating the skin to action, opening
and cleaning out the pores, promoting a copious
circulation of blood, and producing a healthful and
exhilarating glow; the strength of which sufficiently
attests the advantages derived. Soap is useful, and
the common and coarse kinds are better than most
of those sold by perfumers. Next to cleanliness in
your persons, is cleanliness in your dwellings. Every
house ought to undergo an annual, or rather half-yearly
visitation of all its cellars, its scullery, washhouse,
garrets, loft, cupboards, closets, and all dark
places and corners, for the removal of dirt, or anything
in its wrong place. As nearly as possible the
house ought to be turned “out of windows.”
All who know anything about the construction of
the human frame admit the necessity of exercise as
a means of physical training. Exercise produces
strength; inaction produces weakness. If we may
trust the author of the “Castle of Indolence,” the
women of England, a hundred years ago, were too
effeminate:—
.nf b
“Here languid beauty kept her pale-faced court;
Bevies of dainty dames, of high degree,
From every quarter hither made resort,
Where from gross mortal care and business free
They lay, poured out in ease and luxury:
Or should they a vain show of work assume,
Alas! and well-a-day! what can it be?
To knot, to twist, to range the vernal bloom;
But far is cast the distaff, spinning wheel, and loom.
.pn 7
Their only labour was to kill the time,
And labour dire it is, and weary woe;
They sit, they loll, turn o’er some idle rhyme,
Then, rising sudden, to the glass they go,
Or saunter forth, with tottering step, and slow;
This soon too rude an exercise they find;
Straight on the couch again their limbs they throw,
Where hours on hours they, sighing, lie reclined,
And court the vapoury god soft breathing in the wind.”
.nf-
This graphic description, with little or no modification,
may be applied to a large class still. The
peasant girl, when her spirits are buoyant, is allowed
to obey her natural feelings—to dance and skip and
run; and thus she grows up strong and straight.
But the young lady is receiving constant admonitions
to curb all propensity to such vulgar activity, and,
just in proportion as she subdues nature, she receives
the praise of being well-bred. Why this difference?
Mammas, aunts, and governesses may be of opinion
that a robust physique is undesirable—that health
and vigour are plebeian—that delicacy, feebleness,
and timidity are ladylike: but rosy cheeks, laughing
eyes, and a finely rounded figure draw admiring
glances from the opposite sex. A playground is an
essential department of every school, and girls as well
as boys should be taught the importance of vigorous
exertion. But at all periods of life exercise is indispensable
to health. Indolence destroys the very
capacity of enjoyment; whereas labour puts the body
in tone. A sensible young lady, some time ago,
wrote as follows to the Medical Journal:—“I used to
be so feeble that I could not lift a broom, and the
least physical exertion would make me ill for a week.
.pn 8
Looking one day at the Irish girls, and noticing their
healthy robust appearance, I determined to make a
new trial, and see if I could not bring the roses to
my cheeks, and rid myself of the dreadful lassitude that
oppressed me. One sweeping day I went bravely to
work, cleaning the parlours, three chambers, the front
stairs and hall, after which I lay down and rested
until noon, when I rose and ate a heartier meal than
for many a day. Since that time I have been occupied
some portion of every day in active domestic
labour, and now all my friends are congratulating
me upon my improved and wondrous vigour, to
which I have hitherto been a stranger. Young ladies,
try my catholicon.” Of course, moderation is to be
observed in exercise; immoderate exertion produces
exhaustion.
It is well known how greatly physical comfort
depends upon clothing. The want of sufficient clothing
occasions a vast amount of suffering among the
poorer classes; and many who can afford to dress as
they please subject themselves to various mischiefs,
under the influence of ignorance, carelessness, or
fashion. The most common mistake is, to dress too
coldly in summer and too warmly in winter. Flannel
ought to be worn next the skin all the year round.
It is of as much use for absorbing the perspiration in
hot weather, as for warming the body in cold. “The
rule is,” says Dr. Andrew Combe, “not to dress in an
invariable way in all cases, but to put on clothing in
kind and quantity sufficient in the individual case to
protect the body effectually from an abiding sensation of
cold, however slight.” Females of all classes need to
be warned against the evils of tight lacing. The
.pn 9
dress of the bride celebrated in the Song of Solomon
combined utility with taste; but our ladies must have
habiliments that outrage every law of propriety, and
force their bodies into the most unnatural shapes.
Loose garments are both cooler in summer and
warmer in winter than integuments closely compressing
the body.
By attention to these subjects on which suggestions
have been offered, you cannot fail to secure the preservation
and improvement of the health of the body.
It is your duty to employ all practicable means for
this purpose. “Know ye not that your bodies are
temples of the Holy Ghost?” Honour therefore
the body as a holy thing; and beware how you put
the chains of slavery upon it, or expose it from
selfishness to hunger and nakedness. The importance
of physical training needs to be rung into the ears of
all, as with the peal of a trumpet. “It is reckoned,”
says Dr. Robert Lee in a sermon preached before
royalty, “that one hundred thousand persons die
annually in England of preventible diseases. In the
same proportion more than a million and a quarter
must die annually from the same causes in Europe.
In the fact that the platform, the press, and the
pulpit have lifted up their voices on behalf of
physical education, we recognise one of the most
hopeful signs of the times.”
.sp 2
.ce
INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT.
Although all rational men believe that women
ought to be better instructed, there is a class of pedants
who are of opinion that the same facilities for
.pn 10
the acquisition of knowledge would make them rather
the rivals than the companions of men. Hence our
famous seats of learning are open to the one sex, and
the most tempting prizes are within their reach; but
no such privileges are accorded to the other. We
are glad that the question regarding the propriety or
impropriety of young women availing themselves of
an academical education has been raised, in a somewhat
unexpected form, at the oldest university in
Scotland. A young English lady, Miss Elizabeth
Garrett, the daughter of a gentleman of independent
fortune, who had educated herself highly in classics
and some of the physical sciences, with a view to the
study of medicine, visited St. Andrews a few summers
ago, and intimated her desire to become a student
in several of the classes during the winter. Some
of the professors gave her decided encouragement;
and others were understood to say that they would
offer no opposition. They were all ordinarily gallant,
except Professor Ferrier, whose strong conservative
tendencies led him to oppose. She applied to the
secretary for a matriculation ticket, received the
ticket, paid the fee, and signed her name in the book.
Next day she presented her ticket to Dr. Heddle, and
asked leave to attend his lectures on chemistry. He
had no objection, and gave her a letter to Mr. Ireland,
authorising him to give her a ticket for the
class. In the same way she obtained a ticket for Dr.
Day’s class of anatomy and physiology. He gave her
a cordial welcome. But alas! the senatus met and
passed a resolution to the effect that the issuing of the
tickets to Miss Garrett was not sufficiently authorised,
that the novel question raised ought to be deliberately
.pn 11
considered and decided, that the opinion of
other universities and lawyers should be taken, and
that in the meantime the lady should not be allowed
to attend on the classes of the university. All honour,
and all success to those noble men who are labouring
to destroy such exclusiveness, and to make these national
institutions free to all, whether male or female.
Your business, meanwhile, is to make the most and
the best of the appliances within your reach.
Different schools of mental philosophy have variously
divided and named the intellectual faculties; we are
not careful to follow the exact definitions, divisions,
or phraseologies of the metaphysician; it will serve
our purpose better to take those prominent points
which all may comprehend and appreciate. It appears
to us that there are four distinct stages of mental
development, characterised by four distinct classes
of faculties. The first is distinguished by the perceptive;
the second by the conceptive; the third by the
knowing; and the fourth by the reasoning. These
are discriminated from one another by the peculiar
activity of the faculties which are distinctive of each;
and they are mutually connected by the necessity of a
certain amount of simultaneous active development.
The perceptive faculties adapt you to the material
world, and furnish you with information concerning
the powers, properties, and glories of matter. Their
distinctive office is to observe; and they should be
cultivated with the utmost care, for they not only lie
at the basis of all mental superstructure, by furnishing
the other faculties with the stock, or raw
materials to work on; but in proportion to the distinctness
of the perceptions will be the accuracy of the
.pn 12
memory, and probably the precision of the judgment.
How then can their power and activity be developed?
simply by exercising them—by opening your eyes
and keeping them open. The world is full of objects;
but multitudes pass through life of whom it may be
said, “having eyes they see not.”
The peculiar function of the conceptive faculties is
to store the mind with ideas formed out of previous
knowledge. When you completely enter into a scene
portrayed in history or in poetry, and approach the
situation of the actual observer, you are said to conceive
what is meant, and also to imagine it. There
is a notion pretty prevalent, that the culture of those
powers which relate to the ornamental rather than
the essential is to be sought only by the rich, or those
destined to occupy a high position in society. No
mistake could be more mischievous and cruel. Not
only are they sources of enjoyment, but the main
safeguards of purity—if, indeed, we should distinguish
these; for in being the former they become
the latter. The means of æsthetic cultivation are,
more or less, within the reach of all. Contemplate
the towering mountain and the extending plain—the
starry firmament and the boundless ocean; listen to
music and oratory; visit the galleries of art, mechanism,
and industry. But literature is at once the most
potent and most widely available instrument for the
expansion of the susceptibilities. Literary artists are
the true unveilers of nature.
.nf b
“Blessings be on them, and eternal praise,
The poets who, on earth, have made us heirs
Of truth, and pure delight, by heavenly lays.”
.nf-
.pn 13
.ti 0
But for them, nature, aye and humanity too, in their
higher teachings, would remain sealed books—dead
languages, to the millions of the race.
The knowing faculties enable you to apprehend the
objects of knowledge, whether generals or particulars,
present or absent; and also to classify, extend, and
generalise these judgments, and express them in the
form of propositions. These mental operations indicate
a high region of thought, and give a wide
range of view. The study of the abstract terms and
phrases of language, arithmetic, geometry, and grammar
cultivate these powers. But natural science in
its various branches is the grandest instrument for
the development of the understanding. It should
form a part in the education of every human being;
yet it is almost entirely neglected in our schools, and
our colleges have rarely given it an adequate place
in their curriculum. Let us hope that, in the improvements
contemplated in the whole system of
education, this lamentable deficiency shall be remedied.
Meanwhile, let every woman try to educate
herself as best she can. Owing to the inordinate use
of pseudo-classical phraseology, this fascinating study
has too long been considered as a profession restricted
to a favoured few, and interdicted to the many. By
means of books written in a simple and popular style,
and the application of your own faculties, you may become
acquainted with the laws, creatures, and forms
of the material universe—supply your educational
deficiency, and acquire the power of levying from
everything in nature a store of happiness.
The reasoning faculties methodise the materials of
thought and investigate truth according to certain
.pn 14
definite principles. With a penetrating and comprehensive
glance they examine all the processes of
thought, and not merely seek knowledge, but endeavour
to discover its sources. They are less likely to
manifest themselves than the other intellectual groups;
but in well regulated minds they hold all the other
faculties in subjection, and harmonise and regulate
their operations. No part of your nature is more susceptible
of cultivation than this; and it ought to be
cultured most assiduously, for it lies at the basis of all
practical application of knowledge and experience.
How can these crowning powers be developed? By
inductive and deductive reasoning. Analyse, compare,
draw conclusions, and search for causes. Weigh well
the validity of your arguments, or, it may be, the
accuracy of your processes of investigation. Never
contend for opinions which you do not believe; false
reasoning distorts and warps the soul, and confounds
the distinction between right and wrong. Remember
that you are as responsible for your opinions and judgments
as for your actions and conduct.
.nf b
“Majestic Truth; and where Truth deigns to come,
Her sister Liberty will not be far.”
.nf-
From what has been advanced, it will be seen that
in our view intellectual education does not consist in
the amount of knowledge acquired, but in the due
exercise of all the faculties. Education is an art; the
art, namely, of qualifying human beings for the functions
for which they are destined. Now, in order to
the perfection of an art, it must be founded on a
corresponding science. But so far is such a science
from being yet constructed, that the necessity for it
.pn 15
has only been recently pointed out. Notwithstanding
the lack of scientific foundation, the practical art has
lately undergone great improvement in almost all its
details. The method of nature is the archetype of all
methods; and had educators followed her teachings, we
should never have heard of the once universal practice
of learning by rote, nor of the forcing system now
happily falling daily into more discredit, nor of the
old system of rule teaching, instead of teaching by
principles; that is, the leaving of generalisations until
there are particulars to base them on. As regards
formal intellectual development, you labour under
disadvantages, but need not despair. If the proudest
princess may not become a scholar in an English,
Scotch, or Irish university on the same conditions as
the other students, the humblest domestic servant may
matriculate in the university of nature, and enter upon
studies more exalted and varied than can be pursued
anywhere else. Ladies’ medical colleges are springing
up, by means of which you may enter upon a lucrative
occupation, most womanly in its character, and unrivaled
in scope, variety, or usefulness by any other female
employment. Mechanics’ institutes and lyceums have
their female classes, where you may get valuable instruction,
have access to books of every description,
and thus at pleasure hold intercourse with the best
and wisest of your species; hear all the wit, and serve
yourselves heir to all the wisdom, which has entertained
or enriched successive generations. By-and-by
we hope to see working women’s colleges established
in all our great cities and manufacturing centres,
where special education shall be given about all that
a maiden ought to learn, a wife to know, and a mother
.pn 16
to practise. National organisations for being taught,
examined, and diplomatized are not absolutely necessary.
Many great minds have been educated without
them. The essential elements of mental development
are within your reach. You want no more than the
will. Resolve therefore to make yourselves equal to
the important duties you are called upon to fulfil.
.sp 2
.ce
MORAL DISCIPLINE.
Britain has been called the “paradise of women.”
As regards moral position, this is certainly true.
Mighty is your power in this respect. A virtuous
woman in the seclusion of her home, breathing the
sweet influences of virtue into the hearts and lives of
her beloved ones, is an evangel of goodness to the
world. The instinctive and disinterested love of a
mother consecrates every lesson which she may give
to her children. “There is a love of offspring,” says
the eloquent author of the “Natural History of Enthusiasm,”
“that knows no restrictive reasons, that
extends to any length of personal suffering or toil;
a feeling of absolute self-renunciation, whenever the
interests of children involve a compromise of the
comfort or tastes of the parent. There is a love of
children, in which self-love is drowned; a love which,
when combined with intelligence and firmness, sees
through and casts aside every pretext of personal gratification,
and which steadily pursues the highest and
most remote welfare of its object, with the determination
at once of an animal instinct and of a well considered
rational purpose. There is a species of love
not liable to be worn by time, or slackened, as from
.pn 17
year to year children become less and less dependent
upon parental care; it is a feeling which possesses the
energy of the most vehement passions, along with the
calmness and appliancy of the gentlest affections; a
feeling purged, as completely as any human sentiment
can be, of the grossness of earth; and which seems to
have been conferred upon human nature as a sample of
emotions proper to a higher sphere.” Mothers have no
business with children until they are prepared to train
them up in the way they should go. If you would
discharge this high function, you must discipline all
the moral faculties. Your opportunities are eminently
favourable.
The moral powers of your nature are divided by
Dr. Reid and Mr. Stewart into appetites, desires,
affections, self-love, and the moral faculty. They call
those feelings which take their rise from the body,
and which operate periodically, appetite. By desires,
they mean those feelings which do not take their rise
from the body, and which do not operate periodically.
Under the title of affections, they comprehend all those
active principles whose direct and ultimate object is
the communication of joy or pain to your fellow
creatures. According to them, self-love is an instinctive
principle in the human mind, which impels you to
preserve your life and promote your happiness. The
moral faculty they define to be an original principle
of your nature, whereby you distinguish between right
and wrong. To treat this subject adequately, or to
give all the rules and maxims by which your active
and moral powers may be stimulated and regulated,
would belong to a treatise on ethics. Your moral
nature may be classed under two great principles, the
.pn 18
self-seeking, and the disinterested; and the most important
part of moral discipline is to depress the
former, and exalt the latter.
The control of the selfish feelings is essential to
moral growth. To live to gratify the flesh, or to
become rich, or to be distinguished in places of fashion
and amusement, is to be less than women. Destitute
of the high power of which we are speaking—if no
predominant passion has yet gained the ascendancy—you
will yield to the pressure of the multitude, and be
fashioned by your companions. But if the passions
be strong, by-and-by you will become the slaves of
vice. The noblest endowments will not save from
such a catastrophe; indeed, the danger of being seduced
is greatest to minds of high sensibility. We
could name not a few, of the largest sympathies, the
noblest sentiments, the most splendid genius, who
have been degraded and destroyed, because they failed
in the maintenance of self-control.
.nf b
“Reader, attend: whether thy soul
Soars fancy’s flight beyond the pole,
Or darkling grubs this earthly hole
In low pursuit;
Know, prudent, cautious self-control
Is wisdom’s root.”
.nf-
.ti 0
To be able, amidst the multiplied vexations of life,
to exercise comprehensive and sustained self-control,
is worth more than the proudest victory ever achieved
in the field, and it is a battle you may win.
The great idea of duty, which springs up within you
in opposition to interest, must be cultivated above all
others, for on it all others depend. Conscience has a
regulative power over all the faculties of your nature.
.pn 19
.nf b
“Its slightest touches, instant pause,
Debar all side pretences,
And resolutely keep its laws,
Uncaring consequences.”
.nf-
The universality of a moral sense has been questioned
by many; yet the idea of duty is felt by all.
When enlightened as well as sincere, and carried out
to its legitimate extent, it exalts and dignifies human
nature. This may be called the great conservative law
of creation. It is the reflection of this principle in
the material world that we see binding the spheres to
their central sun, and preventing them dashing from
their orbits in wild and disastrous confusion. The
sense of moral accountableness alone has power to
conquer the “lusts of the flesh and the lusts of the
mind,” and hold them in subjection. The poet of
our age has apostrophized duty in words which you
should make your own.
.nf b
“To humble function’s awful power
I call thee. I myself commend
Unto thy guidance from this hour;
Oh, let my weakness have an end.
Give unto me, made lowly, wise,
The spirit of self-sacrifice;
The confidence of reason give,
And in the light of Truth, thy bondslave let me live.”
.nf-
.ti 0
You are happy or miserable, you are honoured or
degraded, just as you neglect or observe this primal
duty. Armed with a sense of duty, you are proof
against all representations of danger. In confirmation
of this, we can adduce a cloud of witnesses, an
host of martyrs, multitudes of all nations and ages,
and conditions and sexes, for whom the flames of the
.pn 20
tormentor were kindled in vain; against whom the
sword of persecution was drawn to no purpose; and
who held fast their integrity, though they knew death
to be the consequence. Those who are nerved with a
sense of duty cannot be worsted. They fall back upon
the strength of the Eternal, and set all the powers of
evil at defiance.
We are not unmindful of the difficulty of cultivating
in due proportion the qualities we have now described.
Only a very few of our race have possessed, in an
eminent degree, strong passions and strong command
over them, a conscience quick in its discernment, and
a will unswerving in its purpose. But while we
recognise this, we contend that moral discipline is
something possible. It has foundations in your nature.
Its elements and means are simple and common.
Every condition of life furnishes aids to it. Storms,
disasters, hostilities, and sufferings are designed to
school selfish feeling and promote generous satisfaction.
Goodness is not worth much unless tried in these fires.
Home is indeed the great sphere for preparing the
young to act and to endure. “What would my
mother say?” is the first whisper of conscience in the
breast of the simple child; and, “What would my
mother think?” its last note as it expires under a
course of debauchery and sin. Nevertheless, it is
equally certain that the best training will not make
you women apart from your own efforts. On the other
hand, however bad your early training may have been,
with a resolute will, a brave heart, and Divine help,
you may conquer your early habits, and stand forth
moral heroines. Human nature grows in every direction
in which it is trained, and accommodates itself
.pn 21
to every circumstance placed in its way; therefore,
you may take all the flowers that grow in the moral
garden and hang them round your neck for a garland.
Dr. Chalmers well says: “In moral education, every
new achievement of principle smooths the way to
future achievements of the same kind; and the precious
fruit or purchase of each moral virtue is to set
us on higher and firmer vantage-ground, for the conquests
of principle in all time coming.”
.sp 2
.ce
SPIRITUAL CULTURE.
Atheism is the most unnatural thing in the universe.
The creed inscribed on its black flag is absolutely
dreadful. It proclaims, in characters visible to every
eye, that there is no God, no resurrection, no future
state, no accountability, no virtue, no vice, no heaven,
no hell, and that death is an eternal sleep. But
atheism only proclaims human weakness; it does not
disprove God’s existence. There is something in your
very nature which leads to the recognition and worship
of a superior Being. The evidence of this propension
is as extensive as the race, and as prolonged as the
history of humanity. The religious rites and idolatries
to be found in each of the four quarters of the
globe, and the piercing cry which has resounded in
every age, “Where is our Father? We have neither
heard His voice, nor seen His shape. Oh that we knew
where we might find Him, that we might come even
to His seat!” are the proofs of this capacity for worship.
In every human breast there springs up spontaneously
a principle which seeks for the infinite,
uncreated cause; which cannot rest till it ascend to
the eternal, all-comprehending Mind. Nothing but
.pn 22
the contemplation and enjoyment of Deity can satisfy
the souls that He has formed for Himself. Until that
is obtained, the usual want in humanity never can be
filled.
Christianity is the great necessity and the only
sufficiency of your nature. It stirs up the lowest
depths of your spiritual being, that the soul, in all its
completeness, may lay hold on God and be blessed.
All infidel philosophy is wrecked here. It does not
understand, and consequently cannot explain, your
relations to the Invisible, and your capacities for a
blessed immortality. It can mark the contrasts in
your character, but is unable to reconcile them. The
grave, although a shallow, is to it a soundless abyss.
All is over and done with the being who is deposited
there. Christianity alone elucidates the mystery of
humanity. It utters certain sounds as to whence you
came, what you are, and where you are going. The
Scriptures teach that you derive a corrupt nature
from your original progenitors, and this is a satisfactory
solution of the aversions and propensions you
display. A scheme is also propounded for the remission
of human guilt, and the renovation of the
human soul. The fact that one condition essential to
spiritual culture is a supernatural condition, does not
affect self-effort; for here, as everywhere in the whole
economy of grace, it will be found that the reaping
will be in proportion to the sowing. Let us now see
the influence of true religion upon the spiritual powers
of the soul.
The faculty of hope cannot stop at what exists in
time, but must wander through eternity. Its due
exercise redoubles all your pleasures, by enabling you
.pn 23
to enjoy them twice,—in anticipation as well as fruition.
In trouble, this principle is a sure support.
.nf b
“Hope, like the glimmering taper’s light,
Adorns and cheers the way;
And still, as darker grows the night,
Emits a brighter ray.”
.nf-
.ti 0
Hope protests against breaking down under discouragements.
She inscribes her loveliest rainbows
on your murkiest clouds. Christianity is adapted to
this power. It unfolds an infinitely higher order of
life—an eternity of happiness, the boundaries of which
the largest hope mounted on her loftiest pinions
cannot survey. The inhabitants of that heavenly
world look back upon their trials as evils which exist
only in recollection; and to heighten the transport,
they will remember that God shall wipe away all tears
from their eyes.
.nf b
“Oft the big, unbidden tear, stealing down the furrowed cheek,
Told in eloquence sincere, tales of woe they could not speak;
But those days of weeping o’er—past this scene of toil and pain,
They shall feel distress no more; never, never weep again.
’Mid the chorus of the skies, ’mid the angelic lyres above,—
Hark! their songs melodious rise, songs of praise to Jesus’ love!
Happy spirits! ye are fled where no grief can entrance find;
Lulled to rest the aching head, soothed the anguish of the mind.
All is tranquil and serene, calm and undisturbed repose;
There no cloud can intervene, there no angry tempest blows.
Every tear is wiped away, sighs no more shall heave the breast;
Night is lost in endless day, sorrow in eternal rest.”
.nf-
Religion teaches you not to diminish hope by
mourning the loss of dear children or Christian friends,
but to cultivate it with the faith that they are now in
heaven.
.pn 24
.nf b
“O, think that while you’re weeping here,
The hand a golden harp is stringing;
And, with a voice serene and clear,
The ransomed soul, without a tear,
The Saviour’s praise is singing.
And think that all their pains are fled,
Their toils and sorrows closed for ever,
While He, whose blood for man was shed,
Has placed upon His servant’s head
A crown that fadeth never.”
.nf-
.ti 0
Christian hope maketh not ashamed. The wonders
of Providence and grace will yet be completed.
The faculty of faith summons to the steady and
devout contemplation of spiritual truth. It believes
in the superhuman, and rebukes those who pride
themselves in accepting nothing till it is proved.
Christianity is a universal spiritual religion, which
encircles in its design the whole human family, and
blesses by its influence all who receive it. Seeing
then that faith is the great motive power of the
whole plan, its culture becomes vitally important.
Although not alone sufficient, in every instance, the
ordinary means of grace are specially calculated to
promote this end. When the great apostle has
enumerated the achievements of a host of believing
worthies, he adds, “looking unto Jesus, the author
and finisher of our faith; who, for the joy that was
set before Him, endured the cross, despising the
shame, and is now set down at the right hand of
God.” The character of Christ is the most wonderful
that you can contemplate, as it combines the perfections
of the Divine nature, displayed in their most
commanding as well as their most lovely aspect,
.pn 25
with all the sinless sensibility of humanity. But the
whole discipline of life is needed for the growth of
faith. Your labours, your trials of various kinds,
your experiences, your successes and failures, your
very errors, may, by the Divine blessing, He made
instrumental to its increase. For the higher attainments
of faith, trials are not only useful, but indispensable.
The martyrs reached their great faith by
great tribulation. Thus we see powerful reasons why
all the people of God are more or less subjected to
trials and hardships.
The faculty of veneration inspires devotion, and leads
to the manifestation of a feeling of dependence. It
centres upon the Supreme Being, and largely developed
takes great delight in the exercises of religion, and
never eats a morsel of bread, nor drinks of the cooling
stream, without spontaneous thanksgiving. To
culture this, is eminently to educate yourselves. The
contemplation of the stupendous works of God promotes
veneration. Well might the poet exclaim—
.nf b
“An undevout astronomer is mad.”
.nf-
.ti 0
Prayer is admirably calculated to produce fervency
of spirit. Paul understood the philosophy of this
subject when he said, “But we all, with open face,
beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are
changed into the same image from glory to glory,
even as by the Spirit of the Lord.” Hence the commandment
that you should pray always. The influence
of music upon this sentiment is well known.
.nf b
“There is in souls a sympathy with sounds.”
.nf-
.ti 0
In all the resources of thought, material cannot be
.pn 26
found so subduing and overpowering as in the
scenes of redemption. Veneration was large in
Cowper, Charles Wesley, Watts, and Newton; and
their hymns will fan devotion till the end of time.
Your opportunities of spiritual culture are abundant.
None need be so diligent in business as to
have no time for religion. The Sabbath guarantees a
season for unmolested attention to the soul. Wealth
cannot buy up its spiritual blessings, and poverty
operates as no disqualification for its favours. It
smiles as sweetly in the humble cottage as in the
marble palace. On this day thousands of recognised
ministers, and hundreds of thousands of Sabbath-school
teachers, reason, plead, and expostulate with
millions of their fellow-creatures, on the greatest of
all themes. Over and above these, what earnest
lessons are being instilled in the retirements of home!
There is also another source of spiritual education,
open nearly to all, namely, access to books whose aim
is to teach the practical principles of religion. Then
the Bible is within the reach of all. It is the text-book
of the pulpit, the daily manual of the school, and
the familiar companion of the family. Full of human
sympathies, breathing unsullied purity, illustrating
principles by examples, investing precepts in poetry,
and commending itself not more to the learned than
the unlearned, the Bible possesses every quality
which can contribute to success as an instrument of
spiritual culture.
.pn 27
.sp 2
.ce
EDUCATION COMPLETE.
Thus have we sketched, on a small scale, a complete
scheme of education. How to live?—that is the
question. How to use all your powers to the glory of
God and the greatest advantage to yourselves and
others—how to live completely? The intellectual
part of your nature is superior to the physical; the
moral higher than the intellectual; and the spiritual
highest of all. Education complete is the full and
harmonious cultivation of these four divisions. Not
exhaustive development in any one, supremely important
though it may be—not even an exclusive
discipline of two, or even three of these divisions;
but the culture of them all, and the training in due
proportion of all their faculties. When these powers
act simultaneously and harmoniously, no one unduly
depressed, and no one improperly exalted, education
has discharged its function, and a type of womanhood
is realised which closely resembles your Creator’s
ideal. Perfect culture is perfect character. What a
glorious creature is such a woman! Her body is the
temple of the Holy Ghost, and her mind is enriched
with the fine gold and jewellery of knowledge. Not
only friends but even foes are constrained to acknowledge
that she is the “glory of man,” in every
sense a “help corresponding with his dignity.” More
glorious than anything in the material universe is she
who earnestly cultivates all her powers and practically
recognises all her relationships, who has come to a
perfect woman, to the measure of the stature of the
fulness of Christ. We admit that all are not created
alike, but we know that it is impossible to set limits
.pn 28
to the attainments of the smallest or the achievements
of the weakest. For the sake of your country—for
the sake of your race—for the sake of your
children—we urge you to begin now to cultivate, in
all their compass and variety, the attributes of true
womanhood.
.pn 29
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch02
CHAPTER II.||Peculiarities of Female Character.
.sp 2
“The peculiar attributes of woman are softness, tenderness,
love; in fact, she has more heart than man.”
.rj
Benjamin Parsons.
.sp 2
.ce
WOMAN IN RELATION TO MAN.
We have it upon the best authority, that woman
was created “because it was not good for man to be
alone,” and the maintenance of the sex, in at least
equal numbers, is the emphatic proclamation of the
same truth throughout all ages. In paradise man
enjoyed the sunshine of God’s favour, earth presented
nothing but pleasure, and heaven unfolded nothing
but bliss. Celibacy was thus tried under the most
favourable circumstances, and it failed. Multitudes
seem to think that women are little more than a superior
description of domestic animals; but in the state
of primeval innocency, Adam lived on the fruits of
paradise: Eve was not needed to cook his meals, and
there was no wardrobe to be looked after. The laundress
and the laundry were not then in use. A
suitable companion was what man required, and
woman was formed and constituted the meetest help
for him. The service of the sexes is reciprocal, and
when man isolates himself, he not only suffers an
injury but inflicts a wrong. The Bible declares that
a wife is the gift of God, and when a good woman,
there is a double blessing in the nature of the relation.
.pn 30
But if a bad woman, her position as a wife
greatly augments her power for mischief. Woman
and man, however, are not intended to be rivals or
opponents of each other. Of design God made
neither complete. There is a want in each, that the
two might coalesce into one. Duality is necessary to
completeness.
.nf b
. . . . . “Each fulfils
Defect in each, and always thought in thought,
Purpose in purpose, will in will they grow,
The single pure and perfect animal;
The two-celled heart beating with one full stroke
Life.”
.nf-
.ti 0
As we note the chief peculiarities of female character,
it will be seen that woman fills up the vacuum
in man, balances his defects, absorbs his cares, and
increases his joys.
.sp 2
.ce
CORPOREAL ORGANIZATION.
We believe scientific inquirers are not quite unanimous,
as to whether woman really is by nature physically
inferior to man, and it must be admitted that
among the aboriginal inhabitants of at least one-half
of the globe, she is treated as if she were physically
superior. In France, Belgium, and other continental
countries, she may be seen carrying the heaviest
loads, guiding the plough, and performing the severest
labours. Trained to gymnastic feats, she performs
them with quite as much ease and intrepidity
as man, while her power of enduring pain and fatigue,
when fairly called into operation, is proverbial. Nerve
and muscle depend chiefly upon exercise, hence women
who engage in hard manual labour surpass in bodily
.pn 31
vigour multitudes of recluse and retired scholars
of the other sex.
The extraordinary career of a female sailor recently
went the round of the newspapers: in consequence
of information supplied by Captain Lane,
of the Expedient, then lying in the Victoria Dock,
Hartlepool, regarding a young woman, Charlotte
Petrie, who shipped with him as an ordinary seaman,
under the name of William Bruce, and whose sex
was not discovered until she arrived at Palermo.
The girl had been employed as a labourer at the
works for about ten months, and though working
alongside of about one hundred and fifty men, she
was never suspected to be a woman until one of her
fellow-workmen read to her the account of her adventures
in the Express, which she admitted to be
substantially correct, and that she was Charlotte
Petrie. This account was read to her on Saturday,
and on Monday morning she disappeared, and has
not since been heard of. During the period in which
she was employed at the lead works, she resided in
Newcastle, and left every morning by the five o’clock
boat in time to commence work with the other men.
She was generally dressed in loose sailor’s clothes,
was known to be an industrious and hard working
man, and was generally liked in the works. She
mingled freely in a social way with the other labourers
in the factory, and was never, in fact, supposed to
be a female. While in Newcastle, she was taken ill,
and was attended, we understand, by one of our eminent
medical men, who also failed to discover that
‘William’s’ Christian name was ‘Charlotte.’ On one
occasion, this extraordinary girl was the ‘spokesman’
.pn 32
in an appeal for an increase of wages at the lead
factory, in which she was to some extent successful.
Her remarkable history has caused considerable
excitement at St. Anthony’s, and many of the workmen
regret the discovery, as, they say, she was such
a pleasant fellow to work with, and it has even been
mooted among them to get up a presentation in her
behalf. Charlotte Petrie, still in male habiliments,
was last seen on board one of the river steamers, and
it is supposed she was on her way to Shields, in order
to again proceed to sea as a sailor.
But although modes of life, if alike in the sexes,
might produce a closer resemblance; taking them
generally, the difference between their physical organizations
is both palpable and significant. Woman’s
stature is inferior, her touch is softer, her tread is
lighter, her form is more symmetrical, and her embrace
is more affectionate. Thus nature herself has
interdicted identification of character and condition.
In the language of Scripture, woman is “the weaker
vessel,” and her feebler frame and more delicate
constitution indicate plainly that she should be regarded
with special kindness and attention, and not
exposed to the rough and stormy scenes of life.
.sp 2
.ce
PATIENT ENDURANCE.
There is reason to think that woman owes this valuable
quality to the fact of her being “the weaker
vessel,” and thus her physical inferiority instead of
being an hindrance becomes a help. Not having
bodily vigour equal to the other sex, and placed in
circumstances which would make masculine daring
.pn 33
unseemly, she cultivates the power of patient endurance.
The history of woman in almost every land
and age illustrates this fact. When man fails in an
enterprise, he too often gives up all for lost, or perhaps
lays violent hands upon himself; but woman
endures her lot with commendable patience, and
.nf b
“Calmly waits her summons,
Nor dares to stir till heaven shall give permission.”
.nf-
.ti 0
She believes the eloquent sentences of Bishop
Horne: “Patience is the guardian of faith, the preserver
of peace, the cherisher of love, the teacher of
humility. Patience governs the flesh, strengthens the
spirit, sweetens the temper, stifles anger, extinguishes
envy, subdues pride; she bridles the tongue, refrains
the hand, tramples upon temptations, endures persecutions,
consummates martyrdom. Patience produces
unity in the Church, loyalty in the state, harmony in
families and societies; she comforts the poor and
moderates the rich; she makes us humble in prosperity,
cheerful in adversity, unmoved by calamity
and reproach; she teaches to forgive those who have
injured us, and to be the first in asking forgiveness of
those whom we have injured; she delights the faithful,
and invites the unbelieving; she adorns the
woman, and improves the man; is loved in a child,
praised in a young man, and admired in an old man;
she is beautiful in either sex and every age.”
The following lines from the pen of the Hon. Mrs.
Norton are not more beautiful than just.
.nf b
“Warriors and statesmen have their meed of praise,
And what they do or suffer men record!
But the long sacrifice of woman’s days
.pn 34
Passes without a thought—without a word;
And many a holy struggle for the sake
Of duties sternly, faithfully fulfilled—
For which the anxious mind must watch and wake,
And the strong feelings of the heart be stilled—
Goes by unheeded as the summer’s wind,
And leaves no memory and no trace behind!
Yet it may be, more lofty courage swells
In one meek heart which braves an adverse fate,
Than his, whose ardent soul indignant swells,
Warmed by the fight, or cheered through high debate!
The soldier dies surrounded; could he live
Alone to suffer, and alone to strive?
“Answer, ye graves, whose suicidal gloom
Shows deeper horror than a common tomb!
Who sleep within? the men who would evade
An unseen lot of which they felt afraid,—
Embarrassment of means which worked annoy—
A past remorse—a future blank of joy—
The sinful rashness of a blind despair—
These were the strokes which sent your victims there.
“In many a village churchyard’s simple grave,
Where all unmarked the cypress branches wave;
In many a vault where death could only claim
The brief inscription of a woman’s name;
Of different ranks and different degrees,
From daily labour to a life of ease,
(From the rich wife who through the weary day
Wept in her jewels, grief’s unceasing prey,
To the poor soul who trudged o’er marsh and moor;
And with her baby begged from door to door,)
Lie hearts, which ere they found the least release
Had lost all memory of the blessing ‘peace;’
Hearts, whose long struggle through unpitied years
None saw but He who marks the mourner’s tears;
The obscurely noble! Who evaded not
The woe which He had willed should be their lot,
But nerved themselves to bear.”
.nf-
.pn 35
Yes man is often conquered by his calamities,
but woman conquers her trials and troubles. The
former cannot bear a tithe of what the latter endures
without manifesting a hundred times as much impatience.
Woman suffers, and suffers well. There
are more heroines than heroes in the world.
.sp 2
.ce
CAUTION.
Woman is more thoughtful and provident than man.
She guards more carefully against catastrophes, and
practices assiduously the motto, “Sure bind, sure find.”
Animals which are very defenceless are endowed with
the acutest senses, and some are said even to sleep with
their eyes open; and if, as poets have sung, heaven intended
that woman should be not only a “ministering,”
but a guardian angel to man, then her timidity, by the
watchfulness it induces, especially qualifies her for her
post. This may account for that prophetic character
which has been particularly attributed to females.
Most of the heathen oracles employed priestesses
rather than priests; and, as all error is the counterfeit
of truth, even “old wives’ prognostications” are only
an abuse and exaggeration of that foresight which the
timidity and caution of woman prompt her to exercise.
Caution just means rational fear, and had some of
the vaunted sons of valour exercised a little more
prudence at the commencement of their speculations
or enterprises, they would have had less cause for apprehension
at the close. Solomon has said, “Blessed
is the man that feareth always.” Strange as it may
seem, this blessedness is in a remarkable degree the
possession of woman, and hence her timidity produces
.pn 36
fortitude. It is told of Coleridge, that he was accustomed
on important emergencies, to consult a
female friend, placing implicit confidence in her first
instinctive suggestions. The most eminent men have
found it great advantage to have advice from this
quarter. How many a husband would have been
saved from commercial ruin, if he had only sought or
attended to the prudent advice of his wife. How
many a son would have been saved from an early
grave if he had listened to the warning of his mother.
We shall furnish one example out of a million that
might be given. “Mother,” said a young farmer who
was a free liver, “I am going to be inoculated.”
“Dick,” exclaimed his mother, emphatically, “if thou
dost, thou wilt die.” Cautious ever are a mother’s
counsels, but he disregarded them, and in a few days
was in his grave.
.sp 2
.ce
SYMPATHY.
The term sympathy is one of very wide application.
It comprehends the whole of the kindly relational feelings,
and invests even inanimate nature with the
attributes of life. Dr. Lieber, in his “Political Ethics,”
defines it to be “a feeling for the pains and feelings
of others, though unconnected with any interest of
our own, and standing in no direct connection with
us, even in the way of fear for our own future protection.”
Sympathy is peculiarly expansive. It
fixes upon the essentials of humanity, and disregards
the accidents. Tenderness of affection is indeed a
noble quality. There is much sound philosophy in
the following lines:—
.pn 37
.nf b
“How oft the sterner virtues show
Determined justice, truth severe,
Firmness and strength to strike the blow,
Courage to face the peril near,—
Yet wanting hearts that feel the glow
Of love, or for the rising tear
Responsive sympathy ere know,
Life’s light, without life’s warmth to cheer.”
.nf-
Woman is constitutionally sympathetic. She delights,
unbidden, to soothe the sorrows of the distressed.
When that celebrated traveller, John Ledyard, approached
the frontier of Poland, after his arbitrary
detention in Russia, he exclaimed, “Thank heaven!
petticoats appear, and the glimmering of other features.”
Women are the sure harbingers of an alteration
in manners. All succumb to their irresistible
influence: the “divine ichor,” as Homer calls it,
mounts the stolid brain, and intoxicates both rich and
poor, philosopher and clown. Elsewhere he says, “I
have observed among all nations, that the women
ornament themselves more than the men; that wherever
found, they are the same kind, civil, obliging,
humane, tender beings; that they are ever inclined to
be gay and cheerful, timorous and modest.” The
adventurous traveller further remarks, “I never addressed
myself in the language of decency and friendship
to a woman, whether civilized or savage, without
receiving a decent and friendly answer. With man,
it has been often otherwise. In wandering over the
barren plains of inhospitable Denmark, through honest
Sweden, frozen Lapland, rude and churlish Finland,
unprincipled Russia, and the wide-spread regions of
the wandering Tartar, if hungry, dry, cold, wet, or
sick, woman has ever been friendly to me, and uniformly
.pn 38
so; and, to add to this virtue, so worthy of the
appellation of benevolence, these actions have been
performed in so free and kind a manner, that if I was
dry, I drank the sweet draught, and if hungry ate the
coarse morsel, with a double relish.”
Park, the African traveller, experienced much kindness
from females in the wilds of that country, and is
no less vehement in their praise. The men robbed
him, and stripped him, and left him to die; but the
women pitied the fatigued and hungry man, and sang,
as they prepared his food, a touching extempore
melody, of which the refrain was, “Pity the poor
white man, no mother has he.” Yes, as the poet has
well sung:
.nf b
“Woman all exceeds
In ardent sanctitude, in pious deeds;
And chief in woman charities prevail,
That soothe when sorrows or disease assail;
As dropping balm medicinal instils
Health when we pine, her tears alleviate ills,
And the moist emblems of her pity flow,
As heaven relented with the watery bow.”
.nf-
.ti 0
Deep in the sufferer’s nature springs the desire to
feel woman’s hand binding his wound or wiping his
brow, and to hear soft words dropping from a woman’s
lips.
.nf b
“Ask the poor pilgrim, on this convex cast,
His grizzled locks distorted in the blast;
Ask him what accents soothe, what hand bestows
The cordial beverage, raiment, and repose?
Oh! he will dart a spark of ardent flame,
And clasp his tremulous hands, and woman name.”
.nf-
The most beautiful features in human nature, as
well as the most heroic elements of character, are
.pn 39
called up and brought into action by sympathy. The
women, who, during the late war, smoothed the pillow
of the sick soldier in the hospital, have as high a place
to-day in the esteem and affection of the nation as
the heroes who turned the tide of battle on the heights
of Alma and amid the hills of Balaklava. In thoughtless
flattery, woman is sometimes called an angel;
but an angel, in sober truth, she is,—a messenger sent
by God to assuage the sorrows of humanity. Through
sympathy, she lives in high communion with the
great workers and sufferers of the past, and imbibes
the spirit which stimulated and sustained them.
.nf b
“O woman! in our hours of ease,
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please,
And variable as the shade
By the light quivering aspen made;
When pain and anguish wring the brow,
A ministering angel thou!”
.nf-
.ti 0
Daniel bestowed the highest encomiums on the affection
of Jonathan, when he exclaimed—
.nf b
“I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan!
Very pleasant hast thou been unto me:
Thy love to me was wonderful,—
Passing the love of women!”
.nf-
We could fill a book with facts illustrative of the
sincere and strong affection of sisters, aunts, and
grandmothers. But perhaps widows afford the most
affecting examples of the constancy of woman’s love.
.nf b
“The new-made widow, too, I’ve sometimes spied;
Sad sight! slow moving o’er the prostrate dead;
Listless she crawls along in doleful black,
While bursts of sorrow burst from either eye,
Fast falling down her now untasted cheek.
.pn 40
Prone on the lonely grave of the dear man
She drops, whilst busy meddling memory,
In barbarous succession, musters up
The past endearments of her softer hours,
Tenacious of its theme. Still, still she thinks
She sees him, and, indulging the fond thought,
Clings yet more closely to the senseless turf,
Nor heeds the passenger who looks that way.”
.nf-
.sp 2
.ce
LOVE OF APPROBATION.
Woman intensely desires admiration, praise, and
fame. This quality is an excellent guard upon morals as
well as manners. The loss of character, to those largely
endowed with it, is worse than death. “It gives,”
says Mr. Combe, “the desire to be agreeable to others;
it is the drill-serjeant of society, and admonishes us
when we deviate too widely from the line of march
of our fellows; it induces as to suppress numberless
little manifestations of selfishness, and to restrain
many peculiarities of temper and disposition, from the
dread of incurring disapprobation by giving offence;
it is the butt upon which wit strikes, when, by means
of ridicule, it drives us from our follies.” A faculty
thus beneficial ought to be carefully cultivated. By
all means indulge in a generous emulation to excel.
Say nothing and do nothing disgraceful. Assume
those pleasant modes of action and expression which
are calculated to elicit encomiums. Mind appearances
in those little matters which win a good name. No
sensible man likes to see a slattern; nor admires a
wife or sister who appears before him neat and clean,
but dressed after the fashion of a charwoman. The
Creator has seen fit to give you a fair form, and it is
ungrateful to His beneficence not to robe that form
.pn 41
in suitable apparel. At the same time, it is well to
remember that the epicureanism of the toilet and the
patient study of costumial display, are neither female
duties, nor primary requisites for a finished woman.
How supremely ridiculous many women are rendered
by the excess and perversion of approbativeness.
Not long ago young ladies, and some rather
old dowagers too, wore little hats with round crowns,
and beautiful lace fringe, edged with bugles and
fancy bead-work, hanging like a flounce round their
eyes. The gauzy medium mightily improved the
looks of a certain class; but the beauties soon discovered
the disadvantage under which they laboured,
and immediately betook themselves to broad brims.
As regards bonnets, once they were so large that it was
difficult to find the head; then the difficulty was, not
to find the head but the thing that was said to cover
it. We wish our sisters would always emulate their
gracious sovereign, who “wears her bonnet on her
head, and pays her bills quarterly.” Mantles seem to us
both comfortable and becoming, and we may add
economical.
Few faculties require right direction more than
this. What multitudes of fathers and husbands
have been ruined by daughters and wives whose
whole souls were bent on making a sensation. No
wonder the gentlemen do not propose. The rich
silks of the day cannot be had for a wife and daughters,
with the prodigious trimmings that are equally indispensable,
under a sum that would maintain a
country clergyman or half-pay officer and his family.
The paraphernalia of ribbons, laces, fringes, and
flowers, is more expensive than the entire gown of
.pn 42
ten years ago. The Hon. and Rev. S. G. Osborne, in
the Times of Friday, July 23, 1858, says that, as a
rule, “the acreage of dress and its value is in monstrous
proportion to the persons and purses of the
wearers.” As an illustration, we append a selection
of items from a Regent Street milliner’s bill for
£2,754 0s. 6d., which was proved in the London
Bankruptcy Court, in September, 1857. “Bonnet,
£12 12s.; sprigged muslin slip, £11 11s.; six
embroidered collars, £15 15s.; pocket-handkerchief,
£4 4s.; another, £5 5s.; moire antique dress, £10 10s.;
ditto, £11 11s.; ditto, £12 12s.; ditto, £13 13s.; ditto,
£18 18s.; ditto, £19 19s.; brown muslin dress,
£17 17s.; court dress, £51 5s.; ditto, £55 10s.;
parasol, £10 10s.; ditto, £18 18s.; point lace cap and
pearls, £11 11s.; pair of lappets, £8 8s.; ten buttons,
£5; dressing four dolls, £12 12s...!!” Such
bills are sufficient to empty the purse of Fortunatus,
and ruin Crœsus himself.
.nf b
“We sacrifice to dress, till household joy
And comforts cease. Dress drains our cellar dry,
And keeps our larder lean; puts out our fires,
And introduces hunger, frost, and woe,
Where peace and hospitality might reign.”
.nf-
.ti 0
So wrote Cowper. Are his lines less appropriate in
our day?
Wherefore should there be so glaring a difference
between the sexes in this matter? Why should men
think of nothing beyond mere cleanliness, as regards
dress, and women make it a never ending study?
Men strutting along the promenade, dressed off in the
height of fashion, and engrossed with the elegance of
their tout ensemble, are scorned as fools and fops.
.pn 43
But women decorated with gold lace, jewels, diamonds,
magenta and solferino ribbons, may be seen floating
along the pavement, the admired of all observers. If
it be unworthy of a man to be so impressed with
mere outside attire, it is proportionately so of a
woman. Dames who sail along the street in silk and
purple which is not their own, have no right in any
respect to the honour which belongs to women who
work with their hands and pay their own way. We
plead for no monotonous uniformity, but warn you of
the fact, that love of dress has often proved a snare
both to young men and young women; and that
to the latter it has frequently been among the first
steps that led to their ruin. The love of praise was
planted in your nature, not that you might be the
slave of vanity, affectation, and ceremoniousness; but
that you might seek after goodness, shed new light
upon the world, and point the way to a Divine life.
Seek therefore to deserve the approbation of the wise
and good, rather than to gain general approbation.
Seek to possess the approbation of your own conscience;
to commend yourselves to God; to receive at
last the plaudits of your Saviour and Judge.
.sp 2
.ce
TENACITY OF PURPOSE.
How seldom does a woman give up an object which
she has resolved to attain, and how rarely does she
fail in obtaining her end. Obstacles which would
completely overwhelm the other sex, only quicken her
zeal and double her diligence. The inexorable determination
of Lady Macbeth absolutely makes us shrink
with a terror in which interest and admiration are
strangely blended.
.pn 44
.nf b
“I have given suck, and know
How tender ’tis to love the babe that milks me:
I would, while it were smiling in my face,
Have plucked my nipple from his boneless gums,
And dashed the brains out, had I so sworn, as you
Have done to this.”
.nf-
If it be objected that Lady Macbeth is only a
fiction—the sternly magnificent creation of the poet;
we reply, that in the whole compass of Shakespeare’s
works, there is not one character untrue to nature.
True it is, no women in these civilized times murder
sleeping kings: but are there, therefore, no Lady Macbeths
in the world? No women who mock at air-drawn
daggers; in sarcastic mood let fall the word coward;
and disdain the visionary terrors that haunt their vacillating
husbands? There are, and many of them too—unlike
Lady Macbeth—full of virtue and integrity.
“How many a noble enterprise,” to quote from
Parson’s “Mental and Moral Dignity of Woman,”
“would have been abandoned but for the firmness
of woman! How often the faint-hearted have been
inspirited, and the coward goaded to valour by the
voice of woman. Indeed, it is a query whether
fortitude would not long ere this have been exiled
from our world but for the fostering care and influence
of females. Often the martyr for liberty or
religion would have failed and given way, had not
the voice of a wife or mother interposed, and rekindled
his dying ardour.” The most valuable of all possessions—either
for man or woman—is a strenuous and
steady mind, a self-deciding spirit, prepared to act, to
suffer, or to die, as occasion requires. A great deal of
talent is lost every day for want of a little courage.
.pn 45
The fact is, to do anything in the world worth doing,
you must not stand back shivering and thinking of
the cold and danger, but jump in and scramble
through as well as you can. History records not a
few heroines who suffered not the commotions of the
world, nor even the changes of nature, to shake or
disturb the more steadfast purpose of their souls. In
all kinds of serene peril and quiet horror, woman
seem to have infinitely more philosophical endurance
than man.
On the 6th September, 1838, the Forfarshire
steamer was wrecked on the Farne islands. Up to
that time Grace Darling had never accompanied her
father on any of his humane enterprises. She knew
how to handle an oar, and that was all. But when
she saw the mariners holding on by the frail planks,
which every billow threatened to scatter; she uttered
a cry of thrilling horror, which was echoed by her
father and mother. It seemed as if their lives were
in her hand, and so eloquently, wildly, and desperately
did she urge her request, that her father aided by her
mother launched the boat. Despite menacing and
potent waves, the father and the daughter neared the
object of their hopes. The nine survivors were
placed in the boat, and conveyed to the Longstone
lighthouse, where the kind hands and warm heart of
Mrs. Darling changed their sad condition into one of
comfort and joy. The whole country, and indeed all
Europe, rang with the brave deed Grace had done.
How applicable to such a noble girl are the lines of
Cowper:—
.nf b
“She holds no parley with unmanly fears:
Where duty bids, she confidently steers;
.pn 46
Faces a thousand dangers at its call,
And trusting in her God, surmounts them all.”
.nf-
In the path of probity and fidelity many a noble
struggle has been maintained by woman. Plied by
bribes and fair promises to depart from rectitude, she
has boldly shaken off the tempter, risen superior to
the trial, and nobly conquered. Helen Walker, the
Jeanie Deans, of Sir Walter Scott, refusing the
slightest departure from veracity, even to save the
life of her sister; nevertheless showed her fortitude
in rescuing her from the severity of the law, at the
expense of personal exertions, which the time rendered
as difficult as the motive was laudable. Isabel
was accused of the murder of her own child! Poor
Helen was called as the principal witness. The
counsel for the prisoner gave her to understand that
one means existed by which the unhappy girl might
escape. “If,” said he, “you can declare that Isabel
made the slightest preparation for her expected babe,
or that she informed you by the merest chance word
of the circumstances in which she was placed, such a
statement will save your sister’s life!” “I cannot,”
she replied; “not even to save her, will I swear a
falsehood; whatever may be the consequence, I must
give my oath according to my conscience.” In vain
Isabel tried to shake her resolution. Though sorely
moved, Helen remained inflexible. Isabel was found
guilty, and condemned to die. Without a moment’s
hesitation, Helen drew up a petition, setting forth the
harrowing circumstances of the case; and finding
that six weeks must elapse before the sentence could
be carried into effect, she left Dumfries that same
night. Barefooted she commenced her journey, and
.pn 47
reached London in the shortest possible time. Without
introduction or recommendation of any kind,
she went at once to the house of her countryman the
Duke of Argyle, and managed to obtain an interview
with him. She entered wrapped in her Scotch plaid,
and the statement of her sister’s unhappy case in her
hand. If she had lost heart at this critical moment,
and abandoned her purpose, Isabel’s life would have
been forfeited. But the heroic girl advanced her
simple arguments with such convincing energy and
bold determination, that the noble lord embraced her
cause with all the warmth of a generous nature. His
representations were favourably received, the pardon
was consigned to her care, and Helen returned to
Dumfries, still on foot, in time to save her sister’s
life. There are on record innumerable instances of
tenacity of purpose displayed by females, but rendered
so revolting by the details of unparalleled
cruelty and superstition which accompanied them,
that they are passed over here. It is consolation to
know that, for those heroic women who remained
“faithful unto death” is reserved the “crown of
life,” as an imperishable and eternal portion.
.sp 2
.ce
MODESTY.
What Pope said or sung was, we believe, a libel on
the sex:
.nf b
“Most women have no character at all.”
.nf-
.ti 0
At all events, we have never found it applicable to
those whom we have had the honour of becoming
acquainted with. Nevertheless, for the last hundred
years our literature has been constantly hurling anathemas
.pn 48
at the instability of female virtue; until even
the ladies themselves have been forced into the belief
of it. “Frailty, thy name is woman,” is a sentiment
in the mouth of every dissipated coxcomb. Yet
despite the prevalent idea that the most virtuous
woman may easily be made to fall, we venture to
affirm that unchaste thoughts and everything which
tends, even remotely, to impurity, is far less common
among women than men. We know something about
the disgusting details whereby the amount of our
most dreadful moral scourge may be estimated; and
it only confirms us in our opinion that woman is
more sinned against than sinning. Given one hundred
young men, and ten hundred maidens, of the
same age and station; out of the former, at least fifty
will run a course of sinful pleasure for a period;
while out of the latter, not more than six; after
many conflicts, prayers, and convulsive sobbings, to
which the others were strangers, will fall under the
power of temptation. On which side then lies the
frailty? According to what is reckoned a moderate
computation, for one abandoned woman there are
one hundred licentious men, therefore there are more
“frail” men than women, and consequently the
proverb should be, “Frailty, thy name is man!”
Nor is this all. It would seem that what is wrong
in woman is not wrong in man. While the slightest
laxity of conduct irrevocably injures the fame and
worldly prospects of the former, the latter may lead
a loose life with impunity. Society thinks that a
young man will be all the better for “sowing his
wild oats;” but unless his sister be as pure as Diana,
society will cast her off and leave her to drink the
.pn 49
dregs of her damning course. Modesty is the
sweetest charm of woman, and the richest gem of
her honour.
.sp 2
.ce
DISCERNMENT OF CHARACTER.
Inherent character gushes out through every organ
of the body and every avenue of the soul. Broad-built
people love ease, are rather dull, and take good
care of number one. In the nature of things, length
of form facilitates action. Such are always in motion,
speak too fast to be emphatic, and have no lazy
bones in their body. Excitability is indicated by
sharpness. From time immemorial a sharp nose has
been considered a sign of a scolding disposition; but
it is equally so of intensity in the other feelings. In
accordance with the general law that shape and
character correspond, well-proportioned persons have
not only harmony of features but well-balanced
minds. Whereas those, some of whose features stand
right out and others fall in, have ill-balanced characters
as well as an uneven appearance. Walking,
laughing, the mode of shaking hands, and the intonations
of the voice, are all expressive of human
peculiarities. In short, Nature compels all her productions
to manifest character as diversified as
correct.
The art of judging of character from the external
appearance, especially from the countenance, is
founded upon the belief, which has long and generally
prevailed, that there is an intimate connection between
the features and expression of the face and
the qualities and habits of the mind. All are conscious
.pn 50
of drawing conclusions in this way with more
or less confidence, and of acting upon them in the
affairs of life to a certain extent. But women are
generally allowed to excel in quick insight into
character—to perceive motives at a glance—to be
natural physiognomists: some of the greatest philosophers
that ever lived, have been prepared to trust
their first impressions. We find this rare and
valuable sense—this short-hand reasoning—exemplified
in the conversations and writings of ladies, producing,
even in the absence of original genius or of
profound penetration, a sense of perfect security,
as we follow their gentle guidance. Indeed, they
seem to read the characters of all they meet, and
especially of the opposite sex, intuitively, and their
verdict may be considered oracular and without
appeal.
“Ye’ll no mind me, sir,” said Mrs. Macgregor to
Mr. Godwin the lawyer, in that touching story, “The
Little Rift,” which appeared in Good Words, for 1860,
“but I mind ye weel, tho’ lang it is syne ye made
my bit will, and there’s mony a line on your face the
day that wasna’ there then. But oh, sir! there’s the
same kindly glint o’ the e’e still, and I never was
mista’en in my reading o’ ony man’s face yet; I hae
just an awfu’ insight. It was given me to see fra
the very first, that the major was a dour man, dour!
dour!”
That Nature has instituted a science of physiognomy
seems to us to be proclaimed by the very instincts,
not only of humanity, but of the lower animals themselves.
Yet the attempt to raise the art of reading
the countenance to the dignity of a practical science,
.pn 51
although, often made, has never yet been very successful.
Della Porta, a Neapolitan, instituted comparisons
between the physiognomies of human beings
and of species of animals noted for the possession of
peculiar qualities. This was afterwards carried further
by Tischbein. Physiognomy was also eagerly
prosecuted by Thomas Campanella; and when his
labours were nearly forgotten, attention was again
strongly directed to it by the writings of Lavater.
But although most other sciences are insignificant
compared with this, the majority of men can hardly
be said to know the alphabet of human nature.
Woman in her perceptions of grace, propriety, ridicule—her
power of detecting artifice, hypocrisy, and
affection—is, beyond all doubt, his superior. It is
wonderful how often, in nicely balanced cases, when
we appeal to the judgment of a woman, how instantly
she decides the question for us, and how generally
she is right.
.sp 2
.ce
PIETY.
There is a passage in the book Ecclesiastes,
which that contemptible class of men—the satirists
of the female sex—have delighted to quote and misapply.
“One man among a thousand have I found,
but a woman amongst all these have I not found.”
Solomon did not mean that there were fewer good
women than good men in the world. This reference
was to the members of that royal household; and
judging from that class of women with whom unhappily
he associated, we do not wonder at the
experience he left on record. The wisest of men did
not mean, as a satirist, to libel one half of the human
.pn 52
race, but as a penitent to admonish others against
the snares into which he had fallen. It cannot be
doubted that there are far more pious women in every
quarter of the globe than pious men.
The benign and benevolent religion of Jesus, independent
of its spiritual attractions, met perhaps with
a kindlier welcome from woman, on account of her
constitutional sympathies, which are more in harmony
with its messages of mercy and its designs of love
than those of man. It came to purify the springs of
domestic life,—and for such work woman was always
ready; to wrap the bandage round the broken
heart,—and for that kind office woman was always
prepared; to heal the sick,—and woman was ministering
at their couches; to throw open the gates of
immortality to the dying,—and woman was tending
their pillows. “I have ofttimes noted,” says Luther,
“when women receive the doctrine of the gospel,
they are far more fervent in faith, they hold to it
more stiff and fast than men do; as we see in the
loving Magdalene, who was more hearty and bold
than Peter.” The eminent Dr. Doddridge, was of
opinion that in the sight of God they constituted
decidedly the better half of the human race. The
celebrated President Edwards considered the proportion
within the limits of his observation as at
least two to one. While Professor Dwight says,
“women are naturally more religious than men.”
On a retrospect of their ministry, we believe most
divines will find that they have been doubly useful
among the female sex, and have admitted twice as
many of them as of their own sex into the fellowship
of the Church. Not one female can be numbered
.pn 53
amongst Christ’s enemies. Even Pilate’s wife advised
her husband to refrain from taking any part in
injuring “the just Person.” When tempted unsparingly
to condemn woman because through her came
ruin, let us remember that by her came also redemption.
Need we add that in numerous instances they have
been eminently useful members of the Church. They
were so in the apostolic age, and hence Paul makes
honourable mention of the names of Phebe, Priscilla,
and Mary, in his epistle to the Romans. Perhaps then,
as now, many would have sneered at these women
toiling on in works of usefulness; not a few, perhaps,
misrepresented them, but Paul commended them.
What a blessing was this! Better the sympathy of
one noble soul, than the hosannas of thoughtless
millions. It is clear from the New Testament, that
in the Apostolic Church there was an order of
women known as deaconesses, whose work was to
minister to the necessities of the saints and to teach
other women. We see no reason for the discontinuance
of these officers. Those who think they are not
needed now, see with very different eyes from us.
During the entire Christian era, the piety of woman
has shone conspicuous. With equal truth and beauty
the poet sang:—
.nf b
“Peruse the sacred volume: Him who died,
Her kiss betrayed not, nor her tongue denied;
While e’en the apostles left Him to His doom,
She lingered round His cross, and watched His tomb.”
.nf-
Piety is still woman’s brightest ornament and surest
defence. It heightens all her other attractions, and it
.pn 54
will remain when all others have faded. Even those
who are indifferent and hostile to religion themselves
commend it; all good men approve it; it attracts
the favour of God Himself. It has opened the eyes of
thousands to the higher walks of Christian life, and
impelled tens of thousands to press for the mark.
The annals of missionary enterprise already supply
some of the loftiest instances of zeal and devotedness
from among the female sex. To quote from Good
Words, for 1860: “Wherever there has been any
purity, any zeal, any activity, any prosperity in the
Church of Christ, there woman’s presence and aid, as
‘a help meet for’ the other sex, while they have been
bearing the heat and burden of the day, will be found
no unimportant element. It is so at this day in an
eminent degree. Nor do I at all doubt that in the
Church’s further efforts to carry the gospel into
all lands, and get for their Lord the sceptre of the
world, the spirit and mind of our Galilean women will
be more and more seen stamped upon Christian
womanhood.” But as Keble sweetly sings, some of
the most beautiful specimens of female Christianity
will never be heard of till the resurrection morn.
.nf b
“Unseen, unfelt, their earthly growth,
And, self-accused of sin and sloth,
They live and die; their names decay,
Their fragrance passes quite away;
Like violets in the freezing blast,
No vernal gleam around they cast:
But they shall flourish from the tomb,
The breath of God shall wake them into odorous bloom.”
.nf-
.pn 55
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch03
CHAPTER III.||Domestic Women.
.sp 2
.h3 id=c3s1
SECTION I.—SUSANNA WESLEY.
“She was an admirable woman, of highly improved mind, and
of a strong and masculine understanding; an obedient wife; an
exemplary mother; a fervent Christian.”
.rj
Robert Southey.
.sp 2
.ce
WOMAN’S SPHERE.
Home is woman’s most appropriate sphere, and it is
there that her influence is most powerfully felt. Perhaps
the three most beautiful, musical, and suggestive
words in the English language are love, home, and
mother; and in these three words is comprehended
all the history of a perfect woman. It is woman
indeed, that makes home, and upon her depends
whether home shall be attractive or repulsive—happy
or miserable. We cannot urge too strongly the formation
of domestic habits. The lack of them is one
of the greatest drawbacks in family life. Many
young women are incompetent to fulfil rightly these
claims, hence their homes become scenes of disorder,
filth, and wretchedness, and their husbands are
tempted to spend their evenings in the beer-house,
the gin palace, or places of public amusement. Were
your education different from what it is, we doubt not
.pn 56
you would soon prove your fitness for many things
from which you are at present debarred; but that
would not alter the fact that your nature qualifies
you specially for the performance of home duties.
Nor is domestic work of small importance. The
woman who shall try to do it rightly is attempting
something far greater than those achievements which
the trump of fame would blazon abroad. The training
of young immortals for an everlasting destiny,
is nobler employment than framing laws, painting
cartoons, or writing poems. It is well only with the
people in general, in proportion as household duty
and religion are taught and practised. From that
sacred place go forth the senator and the philosopher,
the philanthropist and the missionary, to form the
future nation. Home is the proper sphere of woman’s
usefulness. There she may be a queen, and accomplish
vastly more for the well-being of humanity than
in the popular assembly. King Lemuel, in describing
a virtuous woman, says, “She looketh well to
the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of
idleness:” industry and economy go hand in hand.
.sp 2
.ce
BIOGRAPHY.
“How many children has Dr. Annesley?” said a
friend to Thomas Manton, who had just dedicated
one more to the Lord in the holy sacrament of baptism.
“I believe it is two dozen, or a quarter of a hundred,”
was the startling reply. Some of these withered like
early spring flowers; others bloomed into youthful
beauty; and a few developed into mature life. Susanna
was the youngest. She was born in Spital Yard, near
.pn 57
Bishopsgate Street, on the 20th January, 1669. Her
father, at no small cost of feeling, and at a sacrifice
of £700 a year, refused to declare his unfeigned assent
to all that was contained in the Book of Common
Prayer. His nonconformity caused him many outward
troubles, but no inward uneasiness. He was
a man of marked prominence, and a very prince in
the tribe to which he belonged. But who was
Susanna Annesley’s mother? The daughter of John
White, the eminent lawyer and earnest Puritan, a
member of the House of Commons in 1640. The
following curious epitaph was written on his tombstone:—
.nf b
“Here lies a John, a burning, shining light,
Whose name, life, actions, all alike were White.”
.nf-
We should like to know something of the place and
mode of her education. But whether she was sent to
school or trained at home by tutors, an elder sister or
her good mother, we know not. It has been said that
she was well acquainted with the languages of ancient
Greece and Rome. That we believe to be a mistake.
But if she was not a classical scholar, she had a
respectable knowledge of French; prosecuted as one
of her chiefest studies, the noble literature and tongue
of Britain; and wrote with marvellous neatness and
grammatical accuracy. While careful to strengthen
her mind by such abstruse studies as logic and metaphysics,
she was not neglectful of accomplishments.
Whether she could stir the depths of feeling by her
skilful performances on the piano, we know not; but
there is ample evidence that she was not destitute of
the gift of song.
.pn 58
With Susanna Annesley, the dawn of grace was
like the dawn of day. In after-years she wrote:—“I
do not judge it necessary to know the precise time
of our conversion.” The seed of truth took root
imperceptibly, and ultimately brought forth fruit.
As she advanced in years, she increased in spirituality.
Hear her own words:—“I will tell you what rule I
observed in the same case when I was young and
too much addicted to childish diversions, which was
this,—never to spend more time in any matter of
mere recreation in one day, than I spend in private
religious duties.” This one passage explains the
secret of her noble life.
Good books she recognised among the mercies of
her childhood. No doubt they related mainly to experimental
and practical religion, and were written by
such men as John Bunyan, Jeremy Taylor, and the
early puritans. Socinianism was not uncommon in
those times, and Susanna Annesley’s faith in the leading
doctrines of the gospel was shaken. Happily,
Samuel Wesley, most likely her affianced husband,
was an adept in that controversy, and he came to her
rescue. Her theological views became thoroughly
established, and her writings contain admirable defences
of the Holy Trinity, the Godhead and atonement
of the Lord Jesus, and the Divine personality and
work of the Eternal Spirit. Discussions on Church
government ran high. Conformity and nonconformity
were pitted against each other, and championed by
the ablest of their sons. The din of controversy reached
her father’s house, and she began to examine the
question of State churches before she was thirteen.
The result was, that she renounced her ecclesiastical
.pn 59
creed, and attached herself to the communion of the
established Church. Samuel Wesley’s attention was
directed to that subject at the same time, and the
change in their opinions seems to have been contemporaneous.
Behold her now, at the age of nineteen, “a zealous
Church-woman, yet rich in the dowry of nonconforming
virtues;” and over all, as her brightest adorning,
the “beauty of holiness,” clothing her with salvation
as with a garment.
.nf b
“Not perfect, nay, but full of tender wants;
No angel, but a dearer being, all dipt
In angel instincts, breathing paradise.”
.nf-
.ti 0
She was a maiden worthy of the most princely spirit
that might woo her hand and win her heart; and
such Providence had in store for her, in the noble-hearted
and intelligent Samuel Wesley. Probably
late in 1689, or early in 1690, accompanied by “the
virgins, her companions,” she went forth out of Spital
Yard, decked in bridal attire, and was united in holy
matrimony to the Rev. Samuel Wesley, according to
the rites and ceremonies of the Church of England.
Her husband was a curate, on only £30 a year.
They “boarded” in London and the neighbourhood,
“without going into debt.” In the course of a few
months, Mr. Wesley received his first preferment in
the Church. Upon £50 a year, and one child additional
per annum, his thrifty wife managed to make
the ends meet. After existing seven long years in
the miserable rectory of South Ormsby, the rectorship
of Epworth, valued at £200 per annum, was
conferred upon the Rev. Samuel Wesley. The
.pn 60
town is a place of deep interest to two religious
denominations. There the founder of Methodism
and the planter of its earliest offshoot were born,
and in the old parish church they were both dedicated
to God. One would almost imagine that devouring
fire was the rector of Epworth’s adverse element.
Scarcely had he and his noble wife taken possession
of the new home, when a third of the building was
burnt to the ground. Within twelve months after,
the entire growth of flax, intended to satisfy hungry
creditors, was consumed in the field; and in 1709 the
rectory was utterly destroyed by fire. If the number
and bitterness of a man’s foes be any gauge of his real
influence, then the Rector of Epworth must have been
the greatest power in the isle. The consequences of
carrying out his sincere convictions regarding things
secular and sacred were terrible. The conflagration,
involving all but the temporal ruin of the Wesley
family, was the work of some malicious person or
persons unknown. Instead of appreciating his eminent
abilities and scholarly attainments, his brutal parishioners
insulted him in every possible way. His friends
advised him to leave, but he resolutely disregarded
their counsel. “I confess I am not of that mind,” he
writes to the Archbishop of York, “because I may do
some good there: and ’tis like a coward to desert my
post because the enemy fire thick upon me.” Two of
his most violent enemies were cut off in the midst of
their sins, and in these events Mrs. Wesley saw the
avenging hand of Him who hath said, “Touch not
mine anointed, and do my prophets no harm.”
For nearly forty years the Rector of Epworth sowed
with unfaltering hand, and saw no fruit. But ere he
.pn 61
departed, the autumn came. He saw “the full corn
in the ear,” and a few patches of the golden harvest
ready for the reaper’s sickle. A new generation
widely different from their fathers, had grown up
around him, and in the midst of their tenderest sympathy
he passed the quiet evening of life. Memorable
sentences were ever and anon dropping from his ready
pen, indicating that he was looking for the coming
crisis. On the 25th of April, 1735, just as the golden
beams of that day shot their last glances upon the old
parsonage, so eventful in domestic vicissitudes, the
sun of the rector completed its circuit, and sank behind
the western hills of old age to shine in a brighter
sky for evermore.
When all was over, Mrs. Wesley was less shocked
than her children expected. “Now I am heard,”
said she, calmly, “in his having so easy a death, and
my being strengthened so to bear it.” She, nevertheless,
felt deeply her lone and lorn situation. Epworth
had been no paradise of unmixed delight to her. The
serpent had often lurked among its flowers; poverty,
like an armed man, had frequently stood at the gate,
and sometimes crossed the threshold, and death had
many a time entered the dwelling; but, as in widow’s
weeds and sable dress, she left the dear old spot, never
more to return,
.ce
“Some natural tears she dropped, but dried them soon.”
After spending some months with her daughter in
the neighbouring town of Gainsborough, Mrs. Wesley
went, in September, 1736, to reside with her eldest
son, at Tiverton, where she remained until July, 1737.
Thence she removed to Wootton, Wiltshire, where
.pn 62
Mr. Hall, who had married her daughter Martha, was
curate. In the course of a few months, Mr. and Mrs.
Hall removed to Salisbury, and Mrs. Wesley accompanied
them to that ancient cathedral city. In the
spring of 1739, she returned to the place of her birth,
and there spent the remainder of her days. Fifty
years before, in the bloom of early womanhood, she
had left the mighty metropolis, to share in the joys
and sorrows of a minister’s wife. Then, her father,
mother, sisters, and brothers were all alive; now, all
were numbered with the dead. The mother of the
Wesleys herself was waiting, as in the land of Beulah,
for the call, “Come ye up hither.” Her closing hours
afforded ample evidence of a triumphant death. On
the 23rd July, 1742, the founder of Methodism wrote
in his journal—“Her look was calm and serene, and
her eyes fixed upward, while we commended her soul
to God. From three to four, the silver cord was
loosening, the wheel breaking at the cistern, and then,
without any struggle or sigh or groan, the soul was
set at liberty.” Her distinguished son and all her
surviving daughters stood round the bed, and fulfilled
her last request: “Children, as soon as I am released,
sing a psalm of praise to God.” Some of those strains
afterwards written by the dying widow’s minstrel son,
would have been most appropriate.
In the presence of an almost innumerable company
of people, John, with faltering voice, conducted her
funeral ceremonies. As soon as the service was over,
he stood up and preached a sermon over her open
grave, selecting as his text Rev. xx. 11, 12. That
sermon was never published. “But,” says the
preacher, “it was one of the most solemn assemblies
.pn 63
I ever saw, or expect to see on this side eternity.”
“Forsaking nonconformity in early life,” says her
biographer, “and maintaining for many years a devout
and earnest discipleship in the Established Church,
which, in theory she never renounces, in the two last
years of her life she becomes a practical nonconformist,
in attending the ministry and services of her sons
in a separate and unconsecrated ‘conventicle.’ The
two ends of her earthly life, separated by so wide an
interval, in a certain sense embrace and kiss each
other. Rocked in a nonconformist cradle, she now
sleeps in a nonconformist grave.” There, in Bunhillfields
burying-ground, near the dust of Bunyan, the
immortal dreamer; of Watts, the poet of the sanctuary;
De Foe, the champion of nonconformity; and of many
of her father’s associates, her mortal remains await
the “times of the restitution of all things.” A plain
stone with a suitable inscription stands at the head
of her grave.
.sp 2
.ce
A NOBLE WIFE.
A true wife, like the grace of God, is given, not
bought. “Her price is far above rubies;” and,
“the heart of her husband doth safely trust in her.”
Such a wife was Mrs. Wesley. In early life she did
not disdain to study the minute details of domestic
economy, hence she took her proper place at once in
the parsonage at Epworth—managed a large household
on very inadequate means—while her love for
her husband, and regard for the welfare of her children,
constrained her to use wisely and well the income
entrusted to her control. Her husband laid his
purse in her lap, assured that the comfort and responsibility
.pn 64
of his house and the interest of his property
were in safe keeping. After the disastrous fire, in
regard to everything save their eight children, Mr.
and Mrs. Wesley were about as poor as Adam and
Eve when they first set up housekeeping. Thirteen
years after that sad event, a wealthy relative was
“strangely scandalised at the poverty of the furniture,
and much more so at the meanness of the children’s
habit.” The rector’s incarceration for a paltry
debt of less than £30, before his friends could come
to his rescue, was the heaviest trial of the heroic
Mrs. Wesley. What little jewellery she had, including
her marriage ring, she sent for his relief; but
God provided for him in another way. “Tell me,
Mrs. Wesley,” said good Archbishop Sharp, “whether
you ever really wanted bread.” “My lord,” replied
the noble woman, “I will freely own to your
Grace that, strictly speaking, I never did want bread.
But then, I had so much care to get it before it was
eat, and to pay for it after, as has often made it very
unpleasant to me; and I think to have bread on such
terms is the next degree of wretchedness to having
none at all.” “You are certainly in the right,” replied
his lordship, and made her a handsome present,
which she had “reason to believe afforded him comfortable
reflections before his exit.”
It is certain that the Wesley family lived a life of
genteel starvation. The worldly circumstances of the
clergy are better now. Curates have £100. South
Ormsby is worth more than £250; and the rectorship
of Epworth is now upwards of £900. But
even in our days, the common tradesman exceeds
many clergymen of the Church of England, and ministers
.pn 65
of other Churches, in his command of real comfort
and substantial independence. The former is
respectable in moleskin, but the latter must have
broad-cloth. This state of matters is intolerable,
grossly unjust, and fearfully oppressive—a wrong
done not to pastors only, but to society at large;
whose interest suffers through theirs. England lodges
in palaces and clothes her nobles, bishops, and merchants
in purple; while she leaves many of the most
pious and laborious ministers of Christ to be fed by
the hand of charity, and clothed in the garments
which respectability can no longer wear! What a
reproach! When shall it be wiped away?
Between persons of so much decision and firmness
as Mrs. Wesley and her husband, no doubt differences
of opinion arose. But they were neither serious nor
of long duration. The story about a protracted
breach caused by the diversity of their sentiments
concerning the revolution of 1688, if it have any
foundation in fact, is grossly exaggerated in its details.
Samuel Wesley and Susanna Annesley were
drawn to each other by love and reverence; and if
you want to see a marriage noble in every way, you
must go to the rectory at Epworth where this couple
lived. Their entire married life is one of the sweetest,
tenderest, and noblest on record. Mrs. Wesley was
always ready to stand by the rector. “Old as I am,”
she writes, “since I have taken my husband ‘for bettor
for worse,’ I’ll take my residence with him. Where
he lives, will I live; where he dies, will I die; and
there will we be buried. God do so to me, and more
also, if aught but death part him and me.” These
strong feelings of attachment were reciprocated by
.pn 66
Mr. Wesley. “The more duty you pay her,” he writes
to his son Samuel, “and the more frequently and
kindly you write to her, the more you will please
your affectionate father.” His picture of a good
wife is an ideal description of the blessed virgin; but
there is reason to believe that the original from
which it was drawn was the rector’s own wife.
.sp 2
.ce
A GOOD MOTHER.
Who can over-estimate a woman’s worth in the
relation of mother? The great Napoleon said: “A
man is what his mother makes him.” Is there not
much truth in the statement? The tender plant may
be trained by the maternal hand for good or evil,
weal or woe. John Randolph, the statesman, remarked:
“I should have been a French atheist if it
had not been for one recollection, and that was, the
memory of the time when my departed mother used
to take my little hands in hers, and cause me on my
knees to say, ‘Our Father, who art in heaven.’”
Providence blessed Mrs. Wesley with a large family.
She was the mother of nineteen children, most of
whom lived to be educated, and ten came to man’s
and woman’s estate. Her heart was deeply wrung by
bereavements, probably at intervals too short to allow
the wounds to heal; but the desolateness of her spirit
was broken in upon by the faith that the departed
were well, and that the mourner would go to them.
.nf b
“Oh, when the mother meets on high
The babe she lost in infancy,
Has she not then for griefs and fears—
The day of woe the watchful night,—
For all her sorrows, all her fears,—
An overpayment of delight?”
.nf-
.ti 0
.pn 67
While Mrs. Wesley, like every good mother, thanked
God for gladdening the earth with little children, she
knew that they were sent for another purpose than
merely to keep up the population. That a family so
numerous, and composed of characters so powerfully
constituted as the Wesleys, should grow up from
childhood to maturity without their domestic disquietudes,
would be beyond the range of probability.
There were trials deep and heavy, but as far as we
can judge, the family of the Epworth parsonage are
now collected in the many-mansioned house above. A
mother’s influence is the first cord of nature, and the
last of memory. She who rocks the cradle, rules the
world. A generation of mothers like Mrs. Wesley,
would do more for the regeneration of society, than
all our Sunday-schools, day-schools, refuges, reformatories,
home missions, and ragged kirks put together.
.sp 2
.ce
HOME EDUCATION.
The code of laws laid down by Mrs. Wesley for
the education of her children was about perfect. We
can do little more than suggest some of the main principles
upon which she acted in the discharge of this
important duty. No sooner were her children born than
their infant lives were regulated by method. True she
delayed their literary education until they were five
years old, but from their birth they were made to feel
the power of her training hand; and before they
could utter a word they were made to feel that there
was a God. Some parents talk of beginning the
education of their children. Every child’s education
begins the moment it is capable of forming an idea,
and it goes on like time itself, without any holidays.
.pn 68
She aimed at the education of all their mental and
bodily powers. The sleep, food, and even crying of
her children was regulated. Her son John informs
us, that she even taught them as infants to cry softly.
One of the most difficult problems of education is, to
form a child to obedience without making it servile.
The will is the key of the active being, and in a great
measure the key of the receptive too. Along with
the inclinations, its purveyors and assessors, it must
be the earliest subject of discipline. Without subjecting
the will you can do nothing. On this subject
we believe the views of Mrs. Wesley to be equally
just and propound—to lie at the very foundation of
the philosophy of education. “In order to form the
minds of children,” she writes, “the first thing to be
done is, to conquer their will, and bring them to an
obedient temper. To inform the understanding is
a work of time, and must with children proceed by
slow degrees, as they are able to bear it. But the
subjecting of the will is a thing that must be
done at once, and the sooner the better. For by neglecting
timely correction, they contract a stubbornness
and obstinacy which are hardly ever conquered, and
never without using such severity as is painful to
me, as well as the child.” But education is something
more than the teaching of proper obedience;
hence she developed their physical powers, stored
their intellects, cultured their tastes, and disciplined
their consciences. God blessed Mrs. Wesley with
signal ability for teaching; and even had the pecuniary
circumstances of the family not compelled
her to undertake the literary instruction of her children;
she would have felt that their religious education
.pn 69
was her special charge, and that the solemn responsibility
could not be delegated to another. She
was the sole instructress of her daughters. Her
work was arduous, but she encouraged herself with
the faith that He who made her a mother had placed
in her hands the key to the recesses of the hearts of
her offspring; and that the great part of family care
and government consisted in the right education of
children.
.sp 2
.ce
RELATION TO METHODISM.
Never has a century risen on Christian England so
void of soul and faith as the seventeenth. Profligacy
and vice everywhere prevailed, and the moral virtues
of the nation were at their last gasp. God had
witnesses—men of learning, ability, and piety: but
they won no national influence. Methodism was the
great event of the eighteenth century. For several
generations there had been at work powerful influences
in the ancestry of its appointed founders, which
look like providential preparations. In the history
of John Westley, of Whitchurch, we find a beautiful
pre-shadowing of the principles more extensively embodied
in the early Methodist preachers whom the
illustrious grandson who bore his name associated
with himself in that glorious revival. The rector of
Epworth, looked favourably upon what the churchmen
of his day regarded as unjustifiable irregularities,
and published an eloquent defence of those religious
societies which existed at the time. The religious
pedigree, so evident in the paternal ancestry,
was no less observable in the mother of the founder
.pn 70
of Methodism. Maternal influence exerted over John
Wesley and his brothers an all but sovereign control.
His mental perplexities, his religious doubts and emotions
were all submitted to the judgment and decision
of his mother. When Thomas Maxfield began to
preach, Wesley hurried to London to stop him. The
opinion of his mother was unmistakable, and led to
important consequences. “John, you know what my
sentiments have been. You cannot suspect me of
favouring readily anything of this kind. But take
care what you do with respect to that young man;
for he is as surely called of God to preach as you are.
Examine what have been the fruits of his preaching,
and hear him for yourself.” In estimating this remarkable
woman’s relation to Methodism, we must not
forget that during the different times of her husband’s
absence, she read prayers and sermons, and engaged in
religious conversation with her own family, and any
of the parishioners who came in accidentally. What
was this, but a glorious Methodist irregularity? How
significant are the words of Isaac Taylor: “The
Wesleys’ mother was the mother of Methodism in a
religious and moral sense; for, her courage, her submissiveness
to authority, the high tone of her mind,
its independence, and its self-control, the warmth of
her devotional feelings and the practical direction
given to them,—came up, and were visibly repeated in
the character and conduct of her sons.”
.pn 71
.sp 2
.ce
CHARACTER OF MRS WESLEY.
She had a strong and vigorous intellect. The
variety of subjects discussed in her letters is not more
astonishing than the ability with which they are all
treated. Predestination is one of the topics; the
lawfulness of enjoyment another; and even love
forms the theme of one admirable letter, which Dr.
Adam Clarke says, “would be a gem even in the best
written treatise on the powers and passions of the
human mind.” Her temperament was thoughtful
and reflective; her judgment when once fixed, was
immovable. At the same time she was refined,
methodical, highly bred, and imparted these qualities
to all her children.
Perhaps the most remarkable feature in the character
of this distinguished woman was its moral
grandeur. The holy vigilance and resolute control
which she exercised over herself, meet us at every
turn of her life. She held her mouth as with a bridle,
lest she should offend with her tongue. “It always
argues a base and cowardly temper to whisper secretly
what you dare not speak to a man’s face.
Therefore be careful to avoid all evil-speaking, and
be ever sure to obey that command of our Saviour in
this case as well as others,—‘Whatsoever ye would
that men should do unto you, do ye even so unto
them.’” The same vigilant government was exercised
over all her appetites and passions. She believed
that “any passion in excess does as certainly inebriate
as the strongest liquor immoderately taken.” Such
is a specimen of the golden rules which were
sacredly observed by Susanna Wesley.
.pn 72
As regards personal appearance, the mother of the
Wesleys seems to have been inferior to her sisters.
They possessed fair claims to be called beautiful; she
was a graceful and noble English lady, but not
strikingly beautiful. Mr. Kirk, her biographer informs
us that there are two portraits of Mrs. Wesley,
just now claiming to be genuine: the one taken
in early life, the other in old age; but neither of
them conveys the idea of the elegant lady dressed à la
mode. Her figure was probably slight; and her
stature about the average female height.
.sp 2
.h3 id=c3s2
SECTION II.—ELIZA HESSEL.
“To the common-place but important qualification for domestic
duties, she added literary culture, and a character adorned
with Christian virtues.”
.rj
Joshua Priestley.
.sp 2
.ce
WOMAN’S MISSION.
We live in an age of novelty,—new plans, new discoveries,
new opinions, are common enough. Many
of these relate to woman, whose importance in the
scale of humanity, no rational being, above all no
Christian, can doubt. We are anxious that women
should be roused to a sense of their own importance
and responsibility; assured that if they understood
these, surprising changes would immediately take place
in society, giving it a higher tone and a purer spirit.
For them we claim no less exalted a mission than that
of instruments for the regeneration of the world,—restorers
of God’s image to the human soul. This mission
.pn 73
they will best accomplish by moving in the circle
which God and nature have appointed them. We look
forward to the time, not perhaps so remote, when
women shall cease to be employed in those works—rough,
hard, toilsome, exhausting works—in which
many are now engaged. The time will come, when
capital and labour shall have become so reconciled one
to another as that men may do the work of men, and
women may be spared that work in order that they
may the more fully preside over the work of the
household. Then there will be more refinement of
manner, more enjoyment of soul, more enlargement
of the intellect, and more cultivation of the heart.
If circumstances permit, an ambition to excel in
everything that comes within woman’s domain is
laudable; but if not, then do not think too much of
having to forego accomplishments, in order to acquire
useful, every-day attainments. The former may add
to the luxuries of life; the latter is essential to the
happiness of home—to the joys and endearments of a
family, to the affection of relations, to the fidelity of
domestics. “Woman’s mission” has become almost
a phrase of the day. That there are other duties
for women besides household, and for some women
especially, we by no means deny. But here are the
broad, general, and permanent duties of the sex.
.nf b
“On home’s high duties be your thoughts employed;
Leave to the world its strivings and its void.”
.nf-
.ti 0
Real worth will in the long run far outweigh all
accomplishments.
.nf b
“It is not beauty, wealth, or fame,
That can endear a dying name
And write it on the heart;
.pn 74
’Tis humble worth, ’tis duty done,
A course with cheerful patience run—
By these the faithful sigh is won,
The warm tear made to start.”
.nf-
.sp 2
.ce
BIOGRAPHY.
Eliza Hessel was born at Catterton, near Tadcaster,
on April 10th, 1829. Her father Benjamin Hessel,
was a man of great mental and moral excellence, a
worthy descendant of ancestors who had occupied
a farm at Althorp, in the neighbourhood of Howden,
for about five hundred years. The mother,
Hannah Hessel, was a genuine Christian, born of
parents who bravely shared the reproach which
assailed the early Methodists. The whole family of
this noble couple—two sons and three daughters,
became truly pious. Both sons were called to the
Christian ministry. The elder went down to his
grave at the early age of twenty-four, lamented
by many to whom he had been a blessing; and the
younger at present occupies one of the most important
positions of the Wesleyan Church in Australia.
From infancy Eliza Hessel was the subject of the
strivings of the Spirit. We have abundance of facts,
to enable us to form a sufficiently accurate estimate of
the influences operating upon her early years, and
the peculiarities of her mental and moral nature. At
this period she might have often been seen wandering
alone wrapt in deep thought. What are the stars?
How could the Almighty always have existed? Why
was sin permitted to enter into the world? Such were
the questions on which her young brain ruminated.
An eager thirst for knowledge was associated with
.pn 75
intense susceptibility. The sigh of the storm was to
her celestial music. “Judge,” says her biographer,
“of a girl of sixteen pacing the long garden walks
in the cold moonlight, sitting down on the ground,
and clasping her hands, uttering in a voice of such
passionate earnestness as even startled herself: ‘I
would gladly die this moment to solve that problem.’
That girl could be no cipher in the world. She could
be no mere unit. For good or evil, she was destined
to exert considerable influence.”
In August 1842, her eldest sister, Mary Ann, became
the wife of the Rev. Thomas Brumwell, a Wesleyan
minister, and it was arranged that Eliza should
spend a few months with the newly wedded pair at
Melton Mowbray. On reviewing this period, three
years after, she writes: “I have sat poring over
works of history, and more frequently of fiction, till
my aching eye-balls have refused their office; the
solemn tones of the midnight bell, and occasionally,
the light chimes of the third hour of morning have
warned me to my little couch, while strange visions of
enchanted castles, rocking images, ominous sounds,
and wild apparitions, have disturbed my feverish
repose, and unfitted me for the active duties of life.
Oh, these are painful reminiscences!” She remained
at Melton Mowbray about ten months, and after
having benefited by the educational advantages at
Tadcaster, entered Miss Rinders’ boarding-school at
Leeds, in January, 1845. That lady relates this portion
of Eliza’s school-days thus:—“I remember distinctly
the morning she was introduced into the school-room.
Little did I then think what an influence the
new comer would acquire over my own mind and
.pn 76
heart. She was shy and reserved at first, but susceptible
of any advance towards friendliness, and
eager to reciprocate the least kindness. It was not
long before her position amongst us became clearly
defined. Being one of the tallest girls, a degree of
freedom was at once awarded her, but her mind soon
asserted a superior claim. She was a most earnest
and successful student; and it became a privilege to
be admitted into her little coterie of inquirers after
knowledge. At her suggestion, three or four of us rose
at five o’clock every morning, and met in the library to
read. The books chosen were generally such as aided
in our after-studies. Sometimes they yielded more
pleasure than profit, but the recollection of those morning
meetings is very pleasant. During our walks, too,
we read together, or when books were forbidden,
Eliza was never at a loss for some topic of discussion.
A flower, or an insect, often supplied us with a theme.
Anything in nature called forth her deepest sympathies,
and made her eloquent. She told me what
a wild delight she used to feel, when a mere child,
amidst the scenes of nature, rambling at her own
sweet will for hours together with no companions but
the bee and butterfly. The love of the beautiful became
more intense as she grew older, and you will
not wonder that she had also a decided tinge of the
romantic at this time. Her young muse sung of deeds
of daring, and the achievements of fame. She bowed
at the shrine of genius, and made it almost her god.”
She had a strong ambition to excel, and when the
monthly budget of anonymous maiden compositions
were read, a smile of recognition might have been
seen passing round the school-room, as Eliza’s pieces
.pn 77
betrayed their authorship. In a letter to Miss Rinders,
she says, “I will tell you, dear Sarah, what were my
reflections the first day I was at school. In the evening
I sat down, and asked myself, ‘What have I learnt
to-day?’ The answer my heart gave somewhat
startled me. It was this: I have to-day learnt the
most important lesson I ever did learn; that is, that
I know nothing at all.’”
Whilst Miss Hessel was basking in the sunshine at
Leeds, a dark cloud was gathering on the domestic
horizon. Consumption had seized her sister, Mrs.
Brumwell. Fatal symptoms rapidly developed, and
with the words, “Victory, victory, through the blood
of the Lamb,” upon her lips, she winged her way
to the realms of the blessed. Two motherless boys,
one only seven months old, and the other but two
years, were now committed to the trust of Miss Hessel.
Mr. Brumwell resided at Burton-on-Trent, and thither,
early in 1846, she repaired. Though she did not
hide her repugnance to domestic duties, the dawnings
of “a horror of undomesticated literary women”
were already felt, and she determined to excel in this
as in other departments. Apprehensions soon began
to be entertained by Miss Hessel, that the disease
which had already cut off a brother and a sister had
marked her as its prey. Her lungs were pronounced
free from disease, but sea air was recommended. She
visited Scarborough, and after three weeks returned
home with improved health.
Her father’s health had been for some time declining,
and in the autumn of 1847 the family left Catterton
and removed to Boston Spa. Regret was naturally
felt at quitting the old house, but in every respect
the change was beneficial.
.pn 78
October, 1849, brought a fatal domestic affliction.
Mr. Hessel was suddenly seized with an illness which
excluded all hope of recovery, and died November
10th, aged sixty-seven years. This great loss was
made up, as far as possible, by the filial and fraternal
affection of her brother. He had been three years in
the ministry, was now located in the Isle of Wight,
and before the end of November his widowed mother
and eldest sister were comfortably settled at Percy
Cottage, Ventnor. Having visited Carisbrook Castle,
the church of St. Lawrence (the smallest church in
England,) the grave of “the Dairyman’s Daughter,”
and other interesting places, Miss Hessel returned to
Boston Spa the following spring. Her brother had
been delicate, and it was deemed desirable to try the
effect of his native air.
We now arrive at the period of Miss Hessel’s conversion.
The instruments were ministers in various
parts of Scotland, who were persuaded they had received
“new light” on several vital doctrines. Renouncing
the limited views in which they had been
trained, they vigorously advocated the impartially
benignant and strictly universal love of the Father,
atonement of the Son, and influence of the Spirit.
In the spring of 1850, a number of these zealous men
visited several northern counties of England. One
of them, the Rev. George Dunn, preached at Boston
Spa. By that sermon, together with a subsequent conversation,
Miss Hessel came to a knowledge of the
truth as it is in Jesus.
On the 12th March, 1851, her brother consummated
an interesting engagement with a lady resident in
Bristol, the new sphere of his ministerial duty, and
.pn 79
early in May Miss Hessel visited the bridal pair. How
greatly she enjoyed that sojournment two brief sentences
attest. They were written on September 13th,
a few days before she left. “I have much to tell you
of dear old Bristol, the city of the west, and its noble
children. God bless them for the love and heart-warm
kindness they have shown to a stranger and
sojourner within their walls.”
Miss Hessel had not much time for the acquisition
of knowledge. Her large circle of friends entailed a
large correspondence. The value placed upon her
society involved the consumption of much time. She
gave a large amount of service to her own religious
community, and often assisted efforts in distant places
to promote the general welfare of humanity. Nevertheless,
being possessed of strong intellectual tastes,
and lively poetical sensibility, her mental powers were
seldom at rest. We find her holding communion with
Martin’s celebrated pictures, “The Last Judgment,”
“The Plains of Heaven,” and “The Great Day of
Wrath,” admiring the early spring flowers, and the
glowing tints of the autumnal trees. Her poetical
compositions were numerous, some of them of considerable
merit, and her reading was multifarious.
Every department of literature was laid under tribute.
She could discover the gems, and point out the heterodox
opinions in Alexander Smith’s “Life Drama;”
revel beyond measure in the “Life of Dr. Chalmers;”
grow sad over “Talfourd’s Final Memorials of Charles
Lamb;” wonder at Coleridge’s “Aids to Reflection;”
derive benefit from the prodigious vigour of Carlyle
and the lofty sentiment of Channing.
During the summer of 1853, her health improved
.pn 80
so greatly that a hope of protracted life began to dawn;
but early in 1856 she began to feel that life was
fading. About this time, a beloved relative died at
Howden, and Miss Hessel’s health received a blow,
from which it never fully rallied. She had a premonition
at Mary’s grave that she should soon follow
her. On the 27th August, 1857, she wrote—“My
strength is very much reduced, my appetite poor, and
my cough no better. I feel now that I hold life by a
very slender tenure.” Early in January, 1858, she
said, “All my wishes are now fulfilled. I wished to
live over the new year’s tea-meeting, because my
death would have cast a gloom over the rejoicings.
I desire also to receive one more letter from William.
The Australian mail has arrived, and here is my
brother’s letter. How kind my heavenly Father is!”
On Wednesday, the 27th, she entered the dark valley,
the atonement her only hope. Seeing her mother
weep, she said, in a tone of deep affection, “Mother,
don’t cry; I am going home.” When life was well-nigh
gone, with great distinctness she said, slowly,
“Salvation is by faith.” A period of unconsciousness
ensued, then one bright momentary gleam, and
Miss Hessel was no more.
Crowds of mournful people followed her remains to
the cemetery adjoining the Wesleyan church at Boston
Spa. “Is not that a peaceful resting-place?” she
said, a few months before. “I have chosen my grave
there. Our family vault is in the churchyard, but I
have a wish to be buried among my own people—the
people with whom I have worked and worshipped.”
In her last letter to her much-loved brother, she said,
“Do not think sorrowfully of me when I am gone.
Let this be my epitaph in your memory:—
.pn 81
.nf b
“‘By the bright waters now thy lot is cast;
Joy for thee, happy one! thy bark hath past
The rough sea’s foam;
Now the long yearnings of thy soul are stilled.
Home! Home! thy peace is won, thy heart is filled;
Thou art gone Home.’”
.nf-
.sp 2
.ce
A RIGHT PURPOSE IN LIFE.
In order to the realization of any true and practical
life-purpose, three great elements seem to be necessary:
to inquire for yourself, to act for yourself, and to
support yourself. Miss Hessel was deeply conscious
of the fact that while brutes are impelled by instinct
to the course proper to their realm and nature, she
was endowed with rationality, that she might act
upon choice, and, though she might often not have
it in her power to choose the place where to act, she
could always choose how to act in it. It is not given
to many to be doers of what the world counts great
actions; but there is noble work for all to do. As
the author of the “Christian Year” has well sung:—
.nf b
“If, in our daily course, our mind
Be set to hallow all we find,
New treasures still, of countless price,
God will provide for sacrifice.
The trivial round, the common task,
Will furnish all we ought to ask:
Room to deny ourselves, a road
To bring us daily nearer God.”
.nf-
.ti 0
She well fulfils her part in this world, who faithfully
discharges the common every-day duties, and patiently
bears the common every-day trials of her calling and
.pn 82
her home. Miss Hessel had no idea of her education
terminating when it was deemed necessary she should
enter upon the practical duties of life. She says:—“I
am endeavouring in this rural retreat to gain
something every day. Though it be a little only, it
is better than nothing, or, what is still worse, retrograding.”
In the prime of womanhood, we find
her, in every pursuit, seeking to serve and honour
God. To a friend in Leeds she writes:—“I must
combine expansiveness of view with concentration of
purpose, in order to that beautiful harmony of character
so desirable in a woman. It is true that for a
man to excel in anything, for all the purposes of life,
he must devote himself to some branch of science or
business. I mean, I would have him to follow one
business and excel in it. But woman’s mission is
somewhat different, at least, that of most women,—for
there are exceptions to every rule,—and my model
is perfect in everything that comes within the sphere
of a virtuous, intelligent, domestic woman;—so perfect
that it is no easy matter to determine in what
she most excels.”
.sp 2
.ce
AN EXCELLENT DAUGHTER.
Miss Hessel bound the best of all ornaments, filial
love and obedience, on her brow. This is the only
commandment of the ten that has the promise joined
to it, as if to show the place it holds in the Divine
estimation. Without this virtue we should think
very little of all there might be besides. Some
daughters go abroad seeking pleasure where it never
can be found; but Miss Hessel remained at home,
.pn 83
giving pleasure that was more cheering to her parents
than the brightest beam that ever shot from the sun,
and more precious than all the riches the broad earth
could have poured into their lap. As a daughter, she
was anxious to do her duty. The discharge of that
duty brings with it innumerable blessings; its nonperformance
has been the first step in the downward
course of untold thousands, and will be, we fear, of
thousands more. Her strong filial affection is exhibited
in the following sentences:—“There is one
who demands all my sympathy and affection; who as
a wife and a mother, has discharged the important
duties of her station in a manner which evinced the
strength of her conjugal and maternal affection, and
whose peculiarly trying circumstances gave an opportunity
for the full development of that self-devoted
disinterested, Christian heroism, which her children
will remember with gratitude, when her name and
the memory of her high work, will be enshrined only
in the hearts of those who witnessed such devotedness.
Of such fortitude in trial, steadfastness in
adversity, and dauntless energy when despair would
have overwhelmed some hearts, and, above all, of such
unassuming piety, fame speaks not. But these are
engraved in a more enduring page, and will have
their reward when earth and its emblazoned pomp
and pride shall have passed away like a vision.”
Well done fair lass! The recording angel takes notes
of thy dutiful devotion, and publishes it beyond the
domestic hearth. Happy mother, whose toils, sufferings,
and sacrifices, deserved such recompense!
.pn 84
.sp 2
.ce
A LOVING SISTER.
As a sister it would be difficult to over-estimate
Miss Hessel’s worth. Being wise and virtuous, she
swayed an influence of untold power. How often
have we observed the difference between young men
who have enjoyed, when under the home-roof, the
companionship of a sister, and those who were never
so favoured. Sisters, with few exceptions, are kind
and considerate; and home is a dearer spot to all
because they tread its hearth. How touching are
Miss Hessel’s reminiscences of her beloved and highly-gifted
brother, who died when she was only nine
years old. In a letter to her biographer she says,
August 16th: “As I wrote the date at the top of this
letter, the recollection flashed across my mind that
this is the anniversary of dear John’s birthday. He
has been nearly seventeen years in heaven. Seventeen
years of uninterrupted progression in knowledge,
in holiness, in bliss, with a mind unfettered in its
researches and a soul unencumbered by infirmity or
sin in its aspirations! How incomparably nobler he
must be now than when he first entered his heavenly
mansion! I did not tell you how of late years the
idea of him has strangely interwoven itself with my
inner being.” How faithful generally is a sister’s
love. Place her by the side of the sick couch, let her
have to count over the long dull hours of night, and
wait, alone and sleepless, the struggle of the grey
dawn into the chamber of suffering—let her be
appointed to this ministry for father, mother, sister,
or brother, and she feels no weariness, nor owns
recollection of self. Miss Hessel never entered the
.pn 85
marriage relation. She is not to be undervalued
because of her freedom from conjugal engagements.
From the ranks of maidenhood have risen some of the
noblest specimens of noble womanhood. Long will
our soldiers talk of Miss Nightingale moving to and
fro on the shores of the Euxine, like an angel of
mercy. Long will our navvies think of the happy
hours spent in Beckenham, where Miss Marsh taught
them to live “soberly, righteously, and godly.” Long
will Miss Faithful be remembered by the needy of her
own sex in pursuit of employment.
.sp 2
.ce
HOUSEHOLD MANAGEMENT.
The whole household duties were performed by the
mother and her two daughters, and Miss Hessel, in
consequence of the delicate health of her sister, took
more than her share. After making some observations
on “Todd’s Student’s Manual,” she writes her
brother: “I am not speaking of it as a whole, for
what was written expressly for students cannot be
applicable to the case of a woman whose character
must ever be domestic, while she humbly strives to
be intelligent. I detest the word ‘intellectual’ when
applied to a woman. It is impossible for my mind
to separate it from those horrid visions of untidy
drawers, unmended stockings, neglected families, and
all the other characteristics of a slatternly wife.”
About six years afterwards, she says to a friend: “I
have just been reading an article in a periodical which
has amused me greatly. It is on ‘Female Authors.’
Its purport is that an unmarried woman, once fairly
convicted of literature, must never expect to sign her
.pn 86
marriage-contract, but may make up her mind to
solitariness in the world she presumes to create for
herself. Miss Landon is the only scribe recognised
‘who was ever invited to change the name she had
made famous.’ All married literary women, it is
asserted, ‘wore orange-blossom, before they assumed
the bay-leaf.’ It is enough to frighten one if matrimony
were the great end of our existence. But as I
believe that a life of usefulness, in the fullest and best
sense of that word—universal usefulness, if you will
admit the term—is the highest good of woman, I
think that matrimony even should be subservient to
this end.” Miss Hessel, to her credit be it said,
never neglected domestic duties for literary pursuits.
Her aim was not to win for herself the notice of the
public, but to build up a monument of usefulness—to
make her life a noble and useful one—to build well
“both the seen and unseen parts.” “The mistaken
idea,” says an excellent lady, “that has generally
prevailed, that woman’s work comes intuitively to
her, and requires no learning, has caused, and is
causing, a vast amount of misery and mischief.”
.sp 2
.ce
CHARACTER OF MISS HESSEL.
When a girl, Miss Hessel was tall, delicate, and
sickly; a glance at her pale countenance was enough
to satisfy any intelligent observer that the activity of
the brain was morbid. Rapid growth contributed to
physical debility; and at one period she suffered a
good deal from tic-douloureux. When she became a
woman, she was well-proportioned. Her features
resembled those of her sainted brother, and intimate
.pn 87
acquaintance was not necessary to prove that there
were other than physical approximations.
The intellect was keen, comprehensive, and discriminating.
In these hollow times, the female
world teems with fantastic puppets of affectation and
vanity, but here we have no creature of carnality, but
an intelligent woman, with large reflective powers.
A refined ideality was early developed, and carefully
cultivated by the thorough mastering of our best
literature, and especially of our best poetry. In consequence
of her capacious memory, and strong imagination,
she became almost a reflection of her favourite
authors. Her love for poetry, flowers, and everything
beautiful in nature or in art, amounted to a passion.
The moral character of Miss Hessel was of still
superior glory. Of high spirit she gave ample proof
when a pupil, and not beyond her eighth year. In the
master’s absence one day, an occurrence transpired
which kindled his displeasure. He thought Eliza’s
younger sister was the chief culprit, and ordered her
into the “naughty corner.” Eliza, knowing her sister’s
innocence, rose from her seat, marched boldly
forth, brought away the victim, and defiantly exclaimed,
“My sister shall not be put into the corner!”
However, unmagisterial acquiescence was deemed
prudent. To fortitude she added great love of humanity.
A purer benevolence has seldom glowed
even in the bosom of woman. Of disinterestedness
her whole life was one bright example. Like all
young people, she had many faults, but as she approached
womanhood, she discovered and by Divine
assistance corrected them. Her chief excellencies are
within the reach of all.
.pn 88
.sp 2
.h2 id=ch04
CHAPTER IV.||Philanthropic Women.
.sp 2
.h3 id=c4s1
SECTION I.—ELIZABETH FRY.
“She pleaded unweariedly, and with the happiest results, for
the persecuted, the ignorant, and the wretched of every class,
and has left behind her a monument of grateful remembrance in
the hearts of thousands.”
.rj
Samuel Fox.
.sp 2
.ce
WOMAN’S WORK.
In the last census returns it was shown that females
exceeded by half a million the number of males in
these islands. In England there are fifteen thousand
governesses. A few years ago eight hundred and ten
women applied for a situation of £15 per annum;
and two hundred and fifty for another worth only
£12. What are we to do with these poor creatures?
How can we find suitable employment for them?
These questions pass from lip to lip, and are re-echoed
on every hand. We join issue with those who of
late times have come to the strange conclusion that
there is no essential difference—beyond an anatomical
or sexual one—between the two great divisions of the
human race—men and women. As surely as the
little girl takes to the doll, and the baby-boy to his
whip, his pop-gun, and his miniature ship; so surely
did God plant natural instincts for their different
.pn 89
duties in the souls of the different sexes. But
although we hold that men and women were made
and adapted for their own peculiar walks in life, we
think woman as well as man may have a laudable
ambition—she as well as he may take “Excelsior” as
the device upon her banner. All honour to every
woman who, sustaining the dignity of her sex, and
not forgetting her modesty, turns her talent to
account. Moreover, it is permissible to believe that
men have sometimes invaded the province of women.
Is the unrolling of ribbons and measuring of tape a
suitable employment for young men? Would it not
be much more natural for linendrapers and silk-mercers
to employ women? The silk would lose
nothing in being turned over by their little white
hands. True, it requires a tolerably strong frame to
be incessantly taking down and putting back in their
places, samples of goods. But what prevents the hiring
of a small number of men to be specially employed
on heavy jobs? Besides, would there be nothing to
praise from another point of view? If ladies were
forced to be face to face with their own sex, who would
treat them on a footing of equality, would presume to
be out of temper, and would lose patience with their
sauntering through a world of curious things, and then
going away without buying anything,—the making
of purchases which is now a pleasure would become a
business. Might not females labour in the tailoring
department with as much credit to themselves, and
satisfaction to their employers, as males? The needle
is woman’s instrument, and if the society of operative
tailors would nobly give it up to her, hope and work
would visit many a family, and charm many a home.
.pn 90
The question whether women, instead of being confined
as at present to a few occupations, shall in common
with men, be clergymen, doctors, lawyers, professors,
bankers, members of parliament, masons, sailors, and
soldiers, is felt by many to be one of great difficulty
and importance. There is no reason in theory why
women should not make good masons, sailors, and
soldiers; and there are abundant instances on record
in which they have succeeded admirably in these employments.
If you say these vocations are adapted
to men by physical conditions, and not to women, you
contravene the programme of some very able men
and many strong-minded women, and admit all that
those contend for who say that a line must be drawn
somewhere, and add that the line which is indicated
by the twofold consideration that woman is physically
weaker than man, and that the business of maternity
requires more devotion, time, and energy than that of
paternity, has every appearance of being a natural
line. Of this we are certain—that women, who have
time and money at their disposal, might take the
advice given to Lady Clara Vere de Vere:—
.nf b
“Go teach the orphan boy to read,
And teach the orphan girl to sew.”
.nf-
.ti 0
To visit mission schools, ragged schools, Dorcas
societies, and prisons, is womanly, consistent, and
noble.
.sp 2
.ce
BIOGRAPHY.
Elizabeth, third daughter of John Gurney, Esq.,
of Earlham Hall, near Norwich, was born on the 21st
of May, 1780. By her mother, Catherine Bell, who
.pn 91
died in 1792, she was descended from the ancient
family of the Barklays, of Ury, in Kincardineshire,
and great-granddaughter of Robert Barclay, the
apologist of the Quakers. In natural talent she was
quick and penetrating, but her education was rather
defective. To the gaieties of the world, in the usual
acceptation of the term, she was but little exposed.
Music and dancing are not allowed by Friends;
though a scruple as to the former is by no means
universal. The Misses Gurney had all a taste for
music, and some of them sang delightfully, especially
Rachel and Elizabeth. They even danced, now and
then, in the large anteroom; but with little of the
display generally manifested on such occasions.
Years passed on, and little by little an all-wise
Providence gradually led Elizabeth Gurney into the
meridian light of day—the glorious liberty of the
children of God. A severe illness first brought her
to serious thought, but it was on the 4th of February,
1798, at the Friend’s meeting-house at Norwich, that
the word was spoken which was destined to transform
her into a new creature. The instrument of this
great change was William Savery, an American
Quaker, who had come to pay a friendly visit to this
country.
The real goodness, self-denial, and devotion of
the early founders and disciples of Quakerism, first
brought it into existence, and kept it alive, in spite of
much that was absurd, much that was bigoted, fantastic,
and unmeaning. Like other strange mixtures
of human error and Divine truth, it has lived its day,
and is gradually dying out, as all phases of religious
excitement must eventually die when based upon
.pn 92
external peculiarities, and exceptional cases of personal
consecration to a one-sided form of narrow
sectarianism. It is computed that the number of
Quakers in all England is now scarcely one in eleven
hundred, while in their palmy days they reached one
in one hundred and thirty persons. The Society of
Friends now contribute much less to the great solid
stock of intellectual wealth and spiritual worth which is
constantly accumulating in the world, than they did in
the days of our heroine. They can boast of no celebrities
now such as Fox, and Penn, and Barclay, and Naylor,
and Woolman. Their sole orator is Mr. Bright, who
belongs to them in name rather than reality. But
although Quakers may soon become extinct, their
exertions in the cause of freedom will continue to
bear noble and good fruit for many an age. But for
the circumstances in which she was placed, there is
reason to suppose that Elizabeth Gurney would have
adopted some less strict, not to say more legitimate,
form of Christianity. Be that as it may, she continued
throughout life a Quakeress; singularly free
from narrow-mindedness and intolerance.
Having visited London, the south of England, and
Wales, she began when not more than eighteen years
of age, those manifold labours of philanthropy, which
have raised her to a distinguished place among the
benefactors of mankind.
In 1800, she became the wife of Joseph Fry, Esq.,
of Upton, Essex, then a banker in London. The
wedding was on the 19th of August, at the Friends’
Meeting House, in Norwich. We shall quote her own
description of the day. “I awoke in a sort of terror
at the prospect before me, but soon gained quietness,
.pn 93
and something of cheerfulness; after dressing we set
off for meeting; I was altogether comfortable. The
meeting was crowded; I felt serious, and looking in
measure to the only sure place for support. It was
to me a truly solemn time; I felt every word, and not
only felt, but in my manner of speaking expressed how
I felt; Joseph also spoke well. Most solemn it truly
was. After we sat silent some little time, Sarah
Chandler knelt down in prayer; my heart prayed with
her. I believe words are inadequate to describe the
feelings on such an occasion. I wept a good part of
the time, and my beloved father seemed as much
overcome as I was. The day passed off well, and I
think I was very comfortably supported under it,
although cold hands and a beating heart were often
my lot.” It was much more the custom then than
it is now, for the junior partner to reside in the house
of business; and accordingly Mr. and Mrs. Joseph
Fry prepared to establish themselves in St. Mildred’s
Court, in the city of London. The house was suitable
in every way; and continued to be an occasional
residence of different members of the family, till it was
pulled down in consequence of alterations.
Elizabeth Fry was, by her marriage, brought into
completely new circumstances. Unlike her own
parents, her father- and mother-in-law were “plain
and consistent Friends;” and thus she found herself
the “gay, instead of the plain and scrupulous one of
the family.” This brought her into difficulty and
trial; and she feared, lest in the desire to please all,
she should in any degree swerve from the line of conduct
she believed right for herself. Nevertheless, for
several years her life flowed smoothly on, in a round
.pn 94
of domestic and other virtues. But God visits His
people with trials, for the very same reason that the
refiner casts his silver into the furnace. He tries
them, to purify them. Again and again had sickness
been permitted to enter her immediate circle, and
she was frequently called upon to witness the last
moments of dear relatives. In 1808, her father-in-law,
William Storrs Fry, died at St. Mildred’s Court,
where she had nursed him for several weeks. His
decease produced an important change in her circumstances,
causing the removal of the family to Plashet,
a hamlet in the parish of East Ham, Essex, in the
spring of 1809. The change from the din of the city
to the quiet of the country, was not the less appreciated
because years had left traces of hard-earned
experience.
In 1811, she was publicly acknowledged by the
Society of Friends as one of their ministers. A
Mrs. Fry, or a Miss Marsh, may with much success
labour for the eternal weal of souls. Those who
would hinder them ought to bear in mind that God
inspired women of old with the spirit of prophecy,
and gave the songs of more than one of them a place
in sacred literature. In the memoir edited by two of
her daughters, we read as follows: “One thing is
obvious, that it was as a minister of the Society of
Friends, and as such only, shielded by its discipline
and controlled by its supervision, that she could have
carried out her peculiar vocation in the world and the
Church.” She attended the first meeting of the Norwich
Bible Society, and ever after took a deep interest
in that noble institution. Elizabeth Fry evidently
entered upon the scene of her future labours among
.pn 95
the poor female felons in Newgate, without any idea
of the importance of its ultimate results. That career,
while presenting an almost inexhaustible fund of
instructive thought, is yet, necessarily, somewhat
repetitive. It is the glory of benevolence to be uniform.
Queen Charlotte heard of this exemplary woman,
and in 1818 she went by royal command to the
Mansion House. She should have been presented to
her Majesty in the drawing-room, but by some mistake,
she was conducted to the Egyptian Hall. The queen
perceived Mrs. Fry, and advanced to address her.
A murmur of applause ran through the assembly,
when they saw the diminutive queen covered with
diamonds, and the tall Mrs. Fry, in her simple
Quakeress’s dress, earnestly conversing together. It
was royal rank paying homage at the shrine of royal
worth. In 1831, she had an interview with the
Duchess of Kent and the Princess Victoria; and
reminded the young princess of King Josiah, who
began to reign when eight years old, and did that
which was right in the sight of the Lord. The
same year she had some conversation with Queen
Adelaide, chiefly on benevolent subjects. In 1840,
Lord Normandy presented her to Queen Victoria, at
Buckingham Palace. Her present majesty had sent
her £50, for a refuge at Chelsea, and inquired about
Catherine Neave’s refuge, for which she had sent
another £50. Mrs. Fry thanked her, and before withdrawing,
reminded our noble queen of the words of
Scripture, “with the merciful Thou wilt show Thyself
merciful;” and assured her that it was her prayer
that the blessing of God might rest upon her and
Prince Albert, to whom she was about to be married.
.pn 96
Her health now began to fail, from over-fatigue and
anxiety; but she rallied, and only ceased from works
of benevolence when her strength was entirely spent.
As increasing infirmity prevented her from active
employment, she occupied herself with correspondence,
which by degrees became enormous.
In August, 1845, Mrs. Fry was removed to
Ramsgate, as sea air was considered desirable for
her, and after some difficulty her husband obtained a
house exactly suited to her necessities. For some
time the hopes and fears of her relatives were kept in
a constant state of alternation regarding her recovery.
On the 10th of October, she appeared better, but
shortly after was seized with a paralytic attack, which,
though it did not render her speechless, destroyed
her capacity for rational communication. The will
seemed gone, and the inclination to resist or even
desire anything, passed away. The last words she
spoke were, “Oh! my dear Lord, help and keep thy
servant.” She died on the 12th, aged sixty-five. The
night had been dark, but the morning broke gloriously;
and soon after the eternal light had dawned upon her
soul, the sun rose from the ocean, and
.nf b
“Flamed in the forehead of the morning sky.”
.nf-
A vast multitude attended her funeral, not to listen
to the language of inflated eulogy, but to testify the
estimation in which the departed was held. The
procession passed between the grounds of Plashet
House, her once happy home, and those of Plashet
Cottage, to the Friends’ burying-ground at Barking,
Essex, where her grave was prepared. There is no
appointed funeral service among Friends. A deep
.pn 97
silence pervaded the mighty assembly. At length her
brother, Joseph John Gurney, addressed the thousands
gathered around her tomb, and offered solemn prayer.
.sp 2
.ce
EARLY SCHEMES OF USEFULNESS.
During seventeen centuries of the Christian era, the
only associations of a benevolent character were the
family, the school, and the church; and the peculiar
form of operation in which such societies are now
seen, virtually began at the commencement of the
present century. It is only of the England of the
last sixty years that we can emphatically say, “on her
head are many crowns, but the fairest and brightest
is that of charity.” Had this great benefactor of
her race lived but one half century earlier, her plans
would have been circumscribed, and in all probability
would have ended with her own life. But it
pleased Almighty wisdom to raise her up at a time
when it was not only beginning to be whispered,
but even loudly asserted, that each individual was
bound to spend and be spent in the service of God
and humanity. At a very early age Elizabeth
Gurney commenced those habits of visiting and relieving
the poor, both at Earlham and in Norwich,
especially the sick; reading the Bible to them, and
instructing their children. She established a school,
which gradually increased, from one little boy to so
great a number, that the house became inconvenient,
and a vacant laundry was appropriated to that purpose.
How she managed to control above seventy
scholars, without assistance, without monitors, and
without the countless books and pictures of the
.pn 98
present day, must ever remain a mystery to many.
Nor was her attention confined to the very poor. The
widow of an officer, who was living alone in a small
house near Norwich, was surprised during her confinement
with her first child, by a loud ring at the
bell. Her servant came running up stairs with a
basket in her hand, and in the broad dialect peculiar
to Norfolk, informed her mistress that it had been
left by a beautiful lady on horseback, in a scarlet
riding habit, whose servant had told her it was Miss
Elizabeth Gurney. The basket contained a chicken
and some little delicacies.
.sp 2
.ce
THE FEMALE PRISONERS’ FRIEND.
In 1813, the deplorable condition of the female
felons in Newgate attracted the attention of Elizabeth
Fry, and she resolved to visit them. We will not
attempt to describe the details of miscalled prison
discipline, nor of those flagrant abuses which, under
the very eye of law, encouraged rather than diminished
crime, by destroying the last remnant of
self-respect in the criminal. Suffice it to say that
the condition of the female convicts was a disgrace
to any civilised country. Four rooms, comprising
upwards of one hundred and ninety superficial
yards, were crowded with nearly three hundred
women, besides their children, without classification
or employment, and with no other superintendence
than that of a man and his son! Into this scene
Mrs. Fry entered, not mailed in scorn, in hatred, or
contempt, but in the armour of a pure intent. She
respected human nature however fallen, and worked
.pn 99
with it, not against it, as prison systems often do.
Her gentleness at once fixed the attention of those
insolent, violent, and insubordinate characters. She
then read and expounded a portion of Scripture, and
uttered a few words in supplication. Many of the
poor creatures wept from a hitherto unfelt motive,
and Mrs. Fry left, deeply affected, but without any
idea of the importance or ultimate results of the
labours she had begun. It was not, however, till
about Christmas, 1816, that she commenced her
systematic visits to Newgate, being then particularly
induced by the reports of those gentlemen who, in
1815, originated the society for “The Improvement
of Prison Discipline.” Under her influence the Association
for the Improvement of the Female Prisoners
of Newgate, was formed in 1817. The almost immediate
result was order, sobriety, and neatness. This
surprising change soon attracted attention, both in
and out of Parliament, and in 1818, Elizabeth Fry
was called upon to give evidence before a committee
of the House of Commons. Arrangements similar
to those adopted at Newgate were subsequently
introduced into all the metropolitan gaols; and she
personally inspected the prisons, lunatic asylums,
and other kindred institutions in the United Kingdom,
and afterwards those in the most influential
nations of Europe. The enlightened and benevolent
of her sex, both in our own and foreign lands
became her coadjutors. Through her instrumentality
important improvements took place in the treatment
of female convicts sentenced to transportation. Her
active and untiring philanthropic exertions on behalf
of felons of her own sex, acquired for her in her lifetime
.pn 100
the name of “the female Howard.” Only to
hang, banish, and imprison convicts, ill becomes those
who have sinned more against God’s laws than the
worst of criminals have sinned against man’s. It
has been clearly proven that women discharged from
prison, and thrown upon their own resources, without
a character, and consequently without any means of
obtaining a livelihood, relapse into their former evil
habits. We ought to provide suitable employment
for them, and thus restore them to society, and prevent
their children from sharing their poverty and
learning their crimes.
.sp 2
.ce
FAMILY BEREAVEMENTS.
Death frequently entered the family of Mrs. Fry,
and “sorrow upon sorrow” often formed the burden
of her wounded spirit. Her sister, Elizabeth Gurney,
died rejoicing that the hour of her deliverance had
arrived, and that she was about to lay down her frail
tabernacle, and appear in the presence of her God
and Saviour. Her little grandson, Gurney Reynolds,
was an especial object of interest to her. He left her
not more unwell than usual. News came that he was
worse, and three days afterwards he breathed away
his patient spirit, as he lay upon the sofa in his
mother’s room. The lovely little Juliana, the second
daughter of her son William, one of the sweetest
blossoms that ever gladdened parents’ hearts, was cut
off after thirty hours’ illness. But the storm had
not blown over; again the thunder-clouds rolled up.
Her son, William Storrs Fry, the beloved and
honoured head of that happy home, was himself
laid low. On the day of the funeral of his little
.pn 101
Juliana, he exclaimed, “I shall go to her, but she
shall not return to me.” His last words were,
“God is so good!” Emma followed her father,
whom her young heart had loved and desired to
obey, just one week after his departure, and eighteen
days from the death of her sister. One grave contains
all that is mortal of the father and his daughters.
Mrs. Fry felt these blows acutely, but He who sent
them bestowed His Holy Spirit; and so her faith
proved stronger than her anguish. When the lips
turn pale, and cold damps gather upon the brow;
when the loved one is laid in the shroud; when the
screws go into the coffin, and the mould rattles
hollow on its lid,—faith can rise above things below,
and see the ransomed spirit, singing and shining,
before the throne.
.sp 2
.ce
RELATIVE DUTIES.
The marriage union is, of all human relations, that
involving the most delicate, profound, and various
responsibilities. It is only when the hearts of husbands
and wives are right with God that high conjugal life
can be attained. Mrs. Fry knew what was necessary
to adorn the estate of matrimony—even virtuous love.
“No happiness,” says Dr. Macfarlane, “can be expected
at home, if love do not preside over all the
domestic life. How blessed is that husband who is
the loved one, who is made to feel that the reverence
and obedience due to him are not only ungrudged
but cheerfully conceded! This lies at the foundation.
That wife is not only wicked, but a very fool, who
contests with her husband for authority. It is
against the law of marriage, and, therefore, it is
.pn 102
against nature. Ten thousand times ten thousand
wrecks of domestic happiness have been the consequence.”
Although more liberally endowed with the
qualities adapted for government than most women,
Mrs. Fry rejoiced that it was laid upon broader and
stronger shoulders. Her husband loved her, and
therefore had a right to rule over her; she loved her
husband, and therefore willingly obeyed him. Both
were happy because both drank into the spirit of
love.
As a mother she shone with peculiar brightness.
In that most important sphere—home, she was at
once the inspiring genius and the guardian angel. By
her visible action and invisible influence, she efficiently
prepared her children for passing through the inevitable
struggles, and for securing the great ends of life.
She knew that they might be fitted for the idols of
coteries and the lights of drawing-rooms, and yet be
utterly unable to grapple with the first onset of temptation.
As a sure proof of their excellent education,
her children rose from infancy to childhood, and on
to youth, womanhood, and manhood, with hearts full
of affection and grateful recollections of the worth
of their mother.
Some mistresses seem to think that little responsibility
attaches to them with regard to servants, and
that so long as they provide them with home, food,
and wages, they perform all the duty required. Mrs.
Fry believed that servants should be rightly directed
and kindly treated. She did not look upon domestics
as foreigners or as aliens, but as members of the household;
not mere living machines, hired to cook well,
scrub well, wash well, and attend the table well; but
.pn 103
living persons of flesh and blood, with nerves and
muscles, liable to pain and weariness—with hearts
capable of feeling joy, sorrow, love, and gratitude—with
souls that may be saved or lost! Her conduct
met its immediate reward. The servants cared for
the mistress, they had an interest in the family, they
were attached friends.
.sp 2
.ce
CHARACTER OF MRS. FRY.
Her figure was tall and, when young, slight and
graceful. She was an excellent horsewoman, and
rode fearlessly and well, but suffered a good deal
from delicacy of constitution, and was liable to severe
nervous attacks, which often hindered her from joining
her sisters in their different pursuits. When
young she had a profusion of soft flaxen hair. Finery
in dress was always avoided, but she was slow in
adopting the costume worn by the Friends. She first
laid aside all ornaments, then chose quiet colours for
dresses, and had them made with perfect simplicity.
We must say something of Mrs. Fry’s mental
powers. Old Byrom, in one of his quaint humours,
tells us that,—
.nf b
“Tall men are oft like houses that are tall,
The upper rooms are furnished worst of all.”
.nf-
.ti 0
In many cases it may be as he has said; and not only
in regard to men, but also in reference to women.
Here, however, we have a splendid exception—one
who was a cedar in the Lebanon of intellect, as well
as in that of flesh and blood. In natural talent, she
was quick and penetrating, and had a depth of originality
.pn 104
very uncommon. She was not exactly studious,
yet her “upper rooms” were well furnished.
Her moral character is not difficult to describe.
As a child, though gentle and quiet in temper, she
was self-willed and determined. In a letter, written
before she was three years old, her mother says:—“My
dove-like Betsey scarcely ever offends, and is,
in every sense of the word, truly engaging.” As she
grew older, what at first seemed obstinacy, became
finely tempered decision; and what was not unlike
cunning, ripened into uncommon penetration. Enterprise
and benevolence were predominant traits in her
character. While she believed that domestic duties
had the first and greatest claims; she overflowed with
sympathy for suffering humanity. Utter unselfishness
was the secret of her power.
.sp 2
.h3 id=c4s2
SECTION II.||AMELIA WILHELMINA SIEVEKING.
“An actual life, that speaks for itself with that force of conviction
which pierces like a purifying fire to the conscience, and
demands of everyone who hears its voice, an answer, not in words,
but in deeds.”
.rj
Dr. Wichern.
.sp 2
.ce
WOMAN'S RIGHTS.
At the present time the question of woman’s rights
is being widely, and in some quarters warmly, discussed.
Our serial literature, both at home and
abroad, is claiming for woman freedom from all
political, social, and legal, disqualifications. That women
have legal grievances of a serious nature, cannot
for a moment be questioned. How much longer will
.pn 105
seduction continue to go unpunished, except as a
civil injury and by a fictitious and costly suit! How
much longer is woman to bear all the consequences
flowing from the sin of two souls, and to be goaded
into child-murder or suicide by the monstrous injustice
of law! We punish every crime save the
wrong that is deepest and most cruel of all. Then
again, the absolute right of the husband to the property
of his wife, unless secured to her by special
settlement, is both cruel and unjust in its practical
operation. Anything so injurious to woman ought
immediately to be erased from the statute-book. Yet
with every disposition to secure for woman all that
she can wisely claim, we have no sympathy with
those who would draw her into public action in
opposition to man to whom she is so closely allied.
Some time ago we read that the Aylesbury magistrates
had appointed Mrs. Sarah Wooster to the
office of overseer of the poor and surveyor of highways
for the parish of Illmire, and that during the
previous year four women filled similar offices in the
Aylesbury district. As surely as a good housewife
would give her husband a Caudle curtain-lecture were
he to proffer his services in sweeping the floor, dressing
the linen, or cooking the dinner, so surely will a
good husband cry out against and turn with disgust
from a wife who would invade his province. In the
sick-room, woman, by her quick perception, her instinctive
decision, and her tender sensibilities, may
accomplish infinitely more for the well-being of
society, than man. For all the services of philanthropy
she is peculiarly fitted. The rights of woman
do not obtain their due measure of attention even
.pn 106
in this country. Nothing but good could possibly
accrue from the full acknowledgment of her claims
to be educated as well as man is educated, and thus
to be provided for the many contingencies to which
her sex is subject.
.sp 2
.ce
BIOGRAPHY.
Amelia Wilhelmina Sieveking was born at Hamburg,
on the 25th of July, 1794. Her father, Henry
Christian Sieveking, was a merchant, also a senator of
the city, and seems to have been a man of considerable
literary cultivation. Of her mother, Caroline Louisa
Sieveking, whom she lost before she had completed her
fifth year, Amelia retained no distinct recollection.
During the illness of Madame Sieveking, Miss Hösch, a
niece of her husband’s, entered the family, and, after
their mother’s death, carried on the housekeeping, and
took charge of Amelia and her four brothers. At an early
age she received a succession of dry lessons in writing
and arithmetic, French, drawing, music, and when old
enough to enter on a more regular course of instruction,
Mr. Sieveking gave his daughter her choice between
two rationalistic theologians. Amelia had no
means of making a choice between them; she had
recourse to drawing lots, and the gentleman on whom
the lot fell gave her instructions in German grammar
and literature, history, geography, and religion. But
his method of teaching was so stiff and formal, that
he soon lost the affection and respect of his pupil.
Up to the time of her father’s death, in 1809, her
education had been so badly conducted as to awaken
positive dislike in the child’s mind, and her religious
instruction in particular was so defective as to leave
.pn 107
her not only without joy, but tossed with doubts and
difficulties. After the death of her father, as he left
no property, the family was scattered, and Amelia
was put to board with a Mdlle. Dimpfel, a very pious
but ill-educated person. Her Bible, however, the old
lady knew from beginning to end, and had the happy
art of telling Bible stories in such a way as to interest
the young. Her dependent position deprived her of
all paid tuition, and she had to work at ornamental
needlework for her maintenance. About this time,
although she had not learnt to know Christ as the
Son of God, as her Redeemer, and the only source of
happiness, she was nevertheless confirmed. In 1811
she went to live with Madame Brünnemann, an excellent
and kind-hearted woman. Her duties consisted
in reading aloud to an invalid son, and assisting
his mother in the household. The son died in September
of the same year, and Amelia could not leave the
poor mother in her bereavement. It was arranged
that an aged aunt of Madame Brünnemann’s should
take up her abode with them, but she fell ill and died.
From this lady and Madame Brünnemann, Amelia
inherited a small sum of money, which, together with
a pension from a fund for the daughters of deceased
senators, supplied her modest requirements and insured
her independence.
The many losses and calamities brought on Hamburg
in consequence of the French occupation in
1812, led her to retrench her expenditure by doing
her own washing. For a whole summer she washed
all her own clothes in secret. She also endeavoured
to learn dressmaking and cooking, and besides these
household accomplishments, gave some attention to
.pn 108
others of more use in society; but the instruction of
youth was the only vocation that seemed to satisfy
both her intellect and heart.
In 1817 her brother Gustavus died at Berlin
while studying for the ministry. He was the nearest
in age to herself, and had been her chief and favourite
companion. The stroke was heavy, and intensely felt.
Amelia herself says, “I had not felt so deeply the
death of my father, still less that of my elder brother.
This profound grief became a turning-point in my life.”
At the pressing invitation of her now, alas! only
brother and sister-in-law, she visited London in June,
and found refreshment for her own heart at the sight
of their domestic happiness. Soon after her return
from England, the house next to the one where she
lived in the city was burned down, and five persons
perished in the flames. This event impressed her
deeply. Thomas à Kempis’s “Imitation of Christ”
now fell into her hands, and its devout and tender
teachings shed a balm over her wounded spirit. She
sought explanations of the Bible from all the books
that came in her way; but unfortunately they were all
rationalistic in their tone, and gave no light. At last
Francke’s “Preface to the Bible” fell into her hands,
and there she was taught to compare the different passages
one with another, and to apply all she read to
herself by prayer. She was hungering and thirsting
after righteousness, and the promised blessing was
soon to be hers. In June, 1819, she says: “I feel
myself now strongly inclined to adopt the orthodox
doctrine which I have so long rejected, but I must
have clearer light on it first.” That clearer light was
soon given to her, in conversations with an evangelical
.pn 109
pastor of the name of Rautenberg, and at last she
arrived at childlike faith in “that most comforting
doctrine of atonement.”
The biographer of Miss Sieveking, in a memoir in
itself of unusual interest and value, by means of apt
quotations from her diary and letters, has presented
us with a very complete portraiture of her outer and
inner life. From these extracts we learn, that in her
early years she was in the habit of casting lots, when
in difficulty as to the path of duty; but in after-life
she discontinued the practice. Doubtless, like many
others, she was led to feel that we have no right to
ask for a sign in circumstances which are sent to train
us in the use of our judgment. We also find her complaining
of a certain slowness and awkwardness in the
transaction of business, which often prevented her
from managing all her household and social duties to
her satisfaction.
Miss Sieveking published several works. These
were for the most part merely transcripts of the
religious instruction given to her pupils. They were
read in many circles, and met with very different
receptions; but they certainly contain a vast amount
of practical wisdom and judicious suggestions on the
whole subject of charitable work, and organizations of
women for that purpose.
Amid these varied labours and experiences, one
thought was ripening in her soul. She had read a
little French book in which there was much said of
the sisters of charity among the Roman Catholics,
and it awakened in her a strong desire to found such
a sisterhood in the Protestant Church. She had been
led to this by the fact, that in hundreds of instances
.pn 110
unmarried women are not permitted to do the good to
which their hearts impel them, because they have not
the settled position which would be given by a definite
calling, recognised as such by the world without.
With a longing after this work which had only increased
in intensity from being so long pent up within,
we cannot but admire the Christian wisdom and
moderation with which she viewed the matter, even
when encouraged by the approval of friends.
In the autumn of 1824, Miss Sieveking became
acquainted with Pastor Gossner, a Bavarian by birth,
who had been a priest in the Roman Catholic Church,
but by deep study of the holy Scriptures had been
converted to the evangelical doctrines. This good
and great man gave a new and powerful impulse to
her aspirations after what now floated before her as
the future vocation of her life. Charitable work now
engaged so much of her thought and sympathy that
her health, usually so strong, began to give way; but
the water of Ems proved beneficial, and old strength
and fresher looks returned. In 1826, Professor
Tscharner of Berne, who had been imprisoned in his
own country, was giving lectures in Hamburg, and
Miss Sieveking spent many happy hours with himself,
his wife, and his son. Here also, in 1828, she became
intimately acquainted with the celebrated Neander, of
Berlin.
Nursed amid the sultry climes of India, where it
periodically slays its thousands and tens of thousands,
the cholera seems occasionally to take migratory and
comet-like excursions to Europe, spreading on every
hand sickness, death, lamentation, and dismay. In
1831, it suddenly appeared in Hamburg; and Miss
.pn 111
Sieveking felt constrained to take a step which, in
the eyes of the world, had something unusual in it,
and was judged by that world accordingly. With
the full consent of her adopted mother, she offered
her gratuitous services as nurse in the French wards
of the town hospital. She also inserted in a journal
an appeal to other females to offer themselves for the
same work, but her letter found no response. Our
own Florence Nightingale had not yet set the
example of a lady voluntarily consecrating herself to
such an office.
The labours in which Miss Sieveking now engaged
form a deeply interesting chapter in the history of
philanthropy, but they must not be detailed here.
Suffice it to say that her society was attended with
the most blessed results. She at first found some
difficulty in obtaining coadjutors, although she required
nothing “beyond sound sense, a certain
amount of bodily strength, and a knowledge of domestic
matters—except love to the cause and a living
principle of Christianity.”
Miss Sieveking’s robust bodily constitution and
elastic spirits enabled her for many years to sustain
the pressure of charitable work in its many branches.
But in 1857, her strength began to fail; the physicians
were unanimous in advising a journey to some
watering-place, and Soden, near Frankfort-on-the-Maine,
was recommended. In 1858, her active employments
were gradually and with great reluctance
given up, and for many months she had to learn the
harder lesson of waiting patiently on the Lord in
weakness and suffering.
On the 1st of January, 1859, she felt so ill, that
.pn 112
she took leave of her servants with the words, “We
part in tears, but we shall meet again with smiles.”
Some time afterwards, her physician, at the request
of her nephew, Dr. Sieveking, in London, examined
the state of her lungs, and declared that he found
things even worse than he expected; one half of the
lungs was entirely gone, and only so much left as
that, with entire silence and perfect rest, her life
might perhaps be prolonged for a short time. Miss
Sieveking thanked him, but remarked that as long as
she was alive, she would act like a living person, and
see and speak to her friends. On the 1st of April, after
the reading of the psalm, “Like as the hart panteth
after the water brooks,” she folded her hands, and
said, “My Lord! my Lord!” Her work on earth was
done, and she entered on the higher service above.
In order to conquer the prejudice of the poor
people against a pauper funeral, she had desired to be
buried as a poor person; and out of respect to her
wishes, the plain coffin, made of four black boards,
was carried by the two appointed pauper bearers, on
the pauper’s bier, to the churchyard of the parish of
Ham and Horn, and set down on the church path.
It was soon covered with flowers and garlands, while
a vast assembly, composed of all classes, flocked out
of the city and the suburbs. Pastor Rautenberg
spoke some impressive words, and the minister of
the parish, Pastor Mumssen, uttered the concluding
prayer and blessing. Then, as if from the depths,
arose the chant of the brethren and the children, and
amidst the sounds of the doxology and the apostolic
benediction, the coffin was lowered into the vault of
the Sieveking family.
.pn 113
.sp 2
.ce
AMATEUR TEACHING.
The children’s world was Miss Sieveking’s element,
and she therefore felt happy among them. It was
while attending confirmation classes that she began
her career as a teacher. Among those who received
the instructions of the clergyman, was a peasant girl,
whom she found weeping under a tree, because unable
to read aloud like the other scholars. Miss
Sieveking offered to teach her, and for some time she
came regularly for lessons, but after a while, probably
finding the distance from home too great, she appeared
no more. The impulse to work and make herself
useful never slumbered in Miss Sieveking’s heart.
She often fetched the little daughter of the family
that lived in the same house into her room, to instruct
her in knitting, and when the governess was leaving,
she asked permission to educate the second girl.
Finding that she could get on better if she had more
pupils, and that no one had any objection to make,
she took six others from families of her acquaintance,
and at the age of eighteen began her little school.
With what earnestness she set to work is shown in
numerous letters to Miss Hösch. Madame Brünnemann’s
married daughter had no children, and she
had adopted a little girl, whom she was most anxious
to place under Miss Sieveking’s tuition; and as the
child was much younger than her other pupils, she
was obliged to open a second set of classes. About
this time, a small circle of ladies, of whom Miss
Sieveking was one, established a school, in which
twelve poor girls, afterwards increased to eighteen,
received gratuitous instruction. She found increasing
.pn 114
refreshment in her intercourse with her children,
and as she had correct views on the subject of education,
she aimed at something higher than the cultivation
of the memory, viz., the development of the
whole nature. Such training could not fail to
sweeten domestic life, and realise the essential elements
of a true home. If we would have security,
virtue, and comfort in our dwellings, we must give
our girls a thorough education.
.sp 2
.ce
SERVICES IN THE HOSPITAL.
When that new terror-inspiring spectre of our
age approached Hamburg, Miss Sieveking put her
services at the disposal of the board of the cholera
hospital of St. Eric, on the Hollandisch Brook, and
was summoned when the first female patient was
brought in. We cannot conceive of a more engaging
spectacle than a pious female, who, amid all the abstractions
attendant on her rank in society and personal
accomplishments, can find time to visit the
sick and the dying. At the same time, we must
remember that certain duties require certain qualifications.
Many excellent women who would spend
their fortunes in soothing the sick, cannot bear the
sight of blood; and a “rank compound of villainous
smells” is to others positive poison. We do not say
this to detract from such philanthropic heroines as
Miss Sieveking, but in justice to those who would do
what she did if they could. To Miss Hösch she thus
writes: “I have not the slightest fear of infection; and
as far as this danger is concerned, I can enter the hospital
as calmly as my school-room. This absence of all
.pn 115
dread is unanimously said by the physicians to be the
best preventative against illness, and hence, nurses,
comparatively speaking, very rarely die from infection.
So you see there is no need for you to feel any painful
anxiety on my account.” The letters written
during the eight weeks she spent in the hospital,
given almost entirely by her biographer, present us
with a most graphic picture of her life and labours.
In the men’s ward, her special duty was to observe
what diet was prescribed, and to draw up the daily
bill of fare for the housekeeper. She had also charge
of all the linen belonging to the attendants. She
also occasionally took part in nursing the patients;
but the general superintendence was of more importance
even in the women’s ward. Although called to
the work of Martha, when the hospital afforded her
opportunities she gladly engaged in Mary’s work,
and was the means of saving at least two young girls
from utter ruin, and restoring the one to her aged
mother, and the other to a married sister. There was
a strong prejudice against her entering upon this
kind of work, not only in the outside world, but in
the hospital itself; and it required no little wisdom
and self-control to take up and keep her right place.
However, she was enabled to meet and overcome all
difficulties, and when her work ceased to be an experiment
and became a success, those who had blamed,
praised. On the morning of the day that she left the
hospital, she received a formal visit from Dr. Siemssen
and Dr. Siemers, accompanied by three other
gentlemen of the special commission, when Dr.
Siemers, in the name of the rest, made a speech, and
then handed her a written address of thanks; and
.pn 116
another of a similar kind was sent to her in the
afternoon by the General Board of Health.
.sp 2
.ce
PROTESTANT SISTERHOODS.
At an early age we catch glimpses of that thought
which, in the secret depths of her heart, Miss Sieveking
cherished as her possible future vocation. In
1819, she writes in her diary:—“Has not God
different vocations for His different creatures, and has
not each its own joys? May I not find in mine some
compensation for what is denied me elsewhere? To
be a happy wife and mother is not mine—then foundress
of an order of Sisters of Mercy!” While in
the hospital her original plan assumed a more
attainable form, and was shortly afterwards carried
into execution. The first principles of the plan,
however, remained the same, and they are those
which have been so thoroughly tested, and so nobly
advocated by our own Mrs. Sewell, Mrs. Bayly, Miss
Marsh and others,—“personal intercourse with the
poor, and the exhibition of a love towards them
manifested in action and rooted in faith.” Miss
Sieveking believed that under their rough exterior,
the poor had considerable intelligence, and knew
whether their visitors thought them fools or not.
We sometimes blush to see how well-meaning men
and women unwittingly insult the working classes
in their efforts to do them good; there was no shrinking
at dirt or personal infirmities—no talking down
to or patronizing those whom she visited,—with Miss
Sieveking. She treated them as human beings.
This new kind of labour for the good of the poor,
.pn 117
was attended with the most blessed results. At first
she met with many refusals. One considered herself
too much tied by her household duties, another was
afraid of the objections of her family, and a third
was alarmed at the difficulties of the undertaking.
But the Lord strengthened her to persevere, and by
degrees led her to find some who formally bound
themselves to take part in the work. In May, 1832,
the members,—thirteen in number, and all voluntary
workers from private families, six married women
and seven unmarried,—met for the first time at
Miss Sieveking’s home. Many perils threatened the
young institution. It would be strange not to find
a new thing objected to. The medical men were
the greatest barrier. But by-and-by they changed
their minds, and many of them recommended their
poor patients to Miss Sieveking. In a few years the
number increased to thirty-three visiting members,
besides other ladies who undertook on certain days
of the week to cook for invalids. The public confidence
in the work so increased that contributions of
all kinds were forthcoming as soon as wanted.
The great fire of Hamburg in 1842, gave occasion
for the enlargement of the Amalienstift. The association
erected two large white houses, each comprising
twenty-four tenements, which were incorporated
with the one already existing as the Amalienstift.
At the celebration of the twenty-fifth anniversary of
the association, she stated that she had no fears for
her work; she believed it would survive her; for it
was built upon the only foundation that ensures permanence—faith
in Christ. The idea that filled her
whole soul, the raising and ennobling of her sex by
.pn 118
works of saving, serving love, had become a fact and
a reality. There grew out of the parent stem in
Hamburg several kindred institutions; and similar
associations on the plan of Miss Sieveking’s have
been founded in many cities of Northern Germany, in
Switzerland, in the Baltic provinces of Russia, in
Sweden, Denmark, and Holland. It was the experience
of this eminent philanthropist, as it is the
experience of all who have thought carefully on
the subject in the light of Scripture, that all higher
kinds of benefit to the poor are connected with personal
intercourse with them.
.sp 2
.ce
SPINSTERS RESPECTABLE, HAPPY, AND USEFUL.
Miss Sieveking had on two occasions cherished in
secret those wishes and dreams which probably no
young girl is wholly without. In both cases the object
was worthy of her regard. She was not likely either to
shut her eyes to reason and common sense, and marry
a fool; or to flirt with a man, and in consequence die
an old maid. In fact she declined an offer of marriage
from a man whom many would have looked
upon as a desirable match, because he was not after
her own heart. She knew that the married life was
only beautiful and happy when wisely entered and
truthfully lived. In December, 1822, she writes:—“Doubtless
it is sweet to be loved by a truly good
man with his whole heart, and to give one’s self
to him in return. I can understand this, and I am
not unsusceptible to the happiness of the wife and
mother; on the contrary, their joys seem to me
.pn 119
among the sweetest and highest on earth.” Yet she
well knew, that the married state was not essential
to the respectability, happiness, and usefulness of
woman. In novels and in Campe’s book, “A Father’s
Advice to his Daughters,” she found marriage represented
as the only proper destiny for a girl; but
something within her secretly protested against that
view. Yes; to her it constantly grew clearer that an
all-bounteous God could not have given His blessing
to one state of life alone, but must have a blessing
for each. God had evidently reserved her for another
career; and, like many other spinsters, she was unquestionably
respectable, and evidently enjoyed more
real happiness, and was more extensively useful, than
numbers of married females. The marriage relation
must be rightly used or it turns to evil. Some young
men marry dimples, some ears, some noses; the
contest, however, generally lies between eyes and
hair. The mouth, too, is occasionally married; the
chin not so often. Some of the most haughty, cold,
equable, staid, indifferent, selfish creatures in the
world are wives; and some of the noblest women
are spinsters.
.sp 2
.ce
CHARACTER OF MISS SIEVEKING.
In stature Miss Sieveking scarcely reached the
middle size; was sparely made; mercurial in all
her motions; and very short-sighted. There was
nothing remarkable in the head or forehead. Her
figure was easily recognised from a distance, as she
hurried along the streets, generally with a heavy
basket of books and papers. Never arrogant in her
.pn 120
dress, she was always neat and clean; cared little for
fashion or elegance, and believed firmly that freedom
consisted in having few wants. She was not handsome
or graceful, in the ordinary sense of the words;
and never wasted time over her toilet.
Mentally Miss Sieveking was simply a woman of
good sense, conversant with tangibilities; but singularly
ill fitted to calculate regarding the invisible
elements of power by which the tangible and the
material are moved and governed. She was not in
any respect a genius; but eminently a matter-of-fact
woman. Her knowledge of the human heart was
profound, but her insight into individual character
was not remarkable. She was, however, right in
believing that most women underrate their own
powers; and that besides discharging the duties
which the conjugal and filial relations bring with
them, they would do well to develope a different
kind of activity, in schools, churches, and charitable
societies.
Her character morally was of a high order. Few
persons are so exactly what they profess to be as she
was. Once she fell asleep in church, and when her
brother charged her with it, denied it out of shame:
but she could get no peace until she acknowledged
the fact. In her conscientiousness and self-control,
the earnestness which she carried into the smallest
matters, the diligence with which she followed every
good work, her severity towards herself and mildness
towards others,—she may serve as a pattern to her
sex. The great idea of compassionate and ministering
love which was embodied in the life and work of
Amelia Sieveking, is an idea which can and will set
.pn 121
woman free—not from the restraints of law and
custom, not from her vocation of quiet retirement
and domestic virtue, but from the dominion of vanity,
of false appearances, and of self-love. Naturally
impetuous and impatient, at times sharp and abrupt,
and prone to carry out her own will, she might have
turned all her faculties to bad account. But by careful
moral culture she built up a noble character, and
in the language of her biographer, “Hamburg
accounted it an honour and a joy to call Amelia
Sieveking her own.”
.pn 122
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch05
CHAPTER V.||Literary Women.
.sp 2
.h3 id=c5s1
SECTION I.—HANNAH MORE.
“Great as her fame has been, I never considered it equal to
her merit. Such a fine and complete combination of talent and
goodness, and of zeal and discretion, I never witnessed. All her
resources, influences, and opportunities, were simply and invariably
made to subserve one purpose, in which she aimed to
live, not to herself, but to Him who died for us and rose again.”—
.rj
William Jay.
.sp 2
.ce
LITERATURE.
Every piece of composition takes up, and must take
up, as its basis, some element or assumption of fact,—states,
affirms, or denies something; but unless it be
animated by imagination, it is not literature. The
power of seeing and expressing the æsthetic element
in nature and life is that which entitles a composition
to be regarded as a literary product. It is
this element which inspires, vitalises, and gives immortality
to a production, whether it be an address to
a mountain daisy, or a history of the world. Science
may become obsolete through the progress of discovery,
polemics may become irrelevant through the
progress of society, but literature is ever new, and
never old; it is enduring as the great features of
nature which are imaged in it, and the manifold aspects
of human life from which it derives its chief
.pn 123
value and fascination. The dominion of popular
writing is being increased at a most marvellous rate.
Literature is now crowned as the very chiefest monarch
of these times. On many topics we differ, but
editors, authors, critics, and all the disseminators of
literature, are unanimous as to the necessity of the
diffusion of knowledge. What a mine of intellectual
wealth has that admirable art, the art of printing,
now laid open to all! A lifetime would not exhaust
those treasures of delight supplied by English genius
alone. Not only have we men gifted with the highest
attributes of mind, writing entertaining, instructive,
suggestive, Christian, and progressive books; but
women in every department of literature have taken
up, not by courtesy, but by right, a full and conspicuous
place. Not a few of these authoresses heard
“that Divine and nightly-whispering voice, which
speaks to mighty minds of predestinated garlands,
starry and unwithering,” and have already received
their reward.
.sp 2
.ce
BIOGRAPHY.
Hannah More has been long conspicuous among
the lights of the world. She was the youngest but
one of five sisters, and was born on the 2nd of February,
1745, at Stapleton, near Bristol. Jacob More
and Mary Grace educated all their daughters with a
view to their future occupation as schoolmistresses.
They had all strong minds, sagacious intellects, and
superior capabilities for the acquisition of knowledge;
but Hannah seems to have combined in herself the
chief excellencies of all their characters. Her mental
precocity was extraordinary. When about three
.pn 124
years old, her mother found that in listening to the
lessons taught her elder sisters, she had learned them
for herself. She wrote rhymes at the age of four, and
before that period repeated her catechism in the
church in a manner which excited the admiration of
the clergyman, who had so recently received her at
the font. Her nurse had formerly lived in the family
of Dryden, and little Hannah took great delight in
hearing stories about the great poet. Before she had
completed her eighth year, her thirst for knowledge
became so conspicuous, that her father, despite his
horror at female pedantry, had begun to instruct her
in Grecian and Roman history, classics and mathematics.
Under the tuition of her elder sister Mary,
she commenced the study of French. We are not
aware that she ever visited Paris, but some French
officers were frequently guests at her father’s table,
and these gentlemen always fixed upon Hannah as
their interpreter. Hence that free and elegant use
of the language for which she was afterwards distinguished.
The superior talents, sound principles, and excellent
conduct of the Misses More attracted notice
and found patrons; and whilst still in their youth,
they found themselves established at the head of a
school, which long continued to be more flourishing
than any other in the west of England. Miss Hannah
sedulously availed herself of the instructions of
masters in the Italian and Spanish languages. For
her knowledge of the physical sciences, she was
largely indebted to the self-taught philosopher, James
Ferguson; and it is probable that her admirable
elocutionary powers were the result of lessons received
.pn 125
from Mr. Sheridan. In 1764, Sir James Stonehouse,
who had been many years a physician in large practice
at Northampton, took holy orders, and came to
reside at Bristol, in the same street with the Miss
Mores. Sir James discerned Miss Hannah’s gifts,
fostered her genius, directed her theological studies,
and remained through life her firm friend.
In 1767, she accepted the addresses of Edward
Turner, Esq., of Belmont, a man of large fortune,
good character, and liberal education, but of a
gloomy and capricious temper, and almost double
her own age. She resigned her partnership in the
school, and spared no expense in fitting herself out to
be his wife. Three times in the course of six years
the wedding-day was fixed, and as often postponed by
her affianced husband. Miss Hannah More’s health
and spirits failed; she could see no rational prospect
of happiness with a man who could so trifle with her
feelings, and at last found resolution to terminate the
anxious and painful treaty. His mind, however, was
ill at ease till he was allowed to settle upon her an
annuity of £200, having offered three times that sum.
At his death he also bequeathed her £1000. Her
hand was again solicited, but refused. Possibly her
experience prompted her sisters to spend their days
in single blessedness.
One of the most important events in the life of
Miss Hannah More, was her first visit to London, in
1773. At that time, neither the habits of people
deemed religious, nor the scruples of her own mind,
interdicted her from visiting the theatre, and listening
to Shakespeare speaking in the person of that consummate
actor, David Garrick. The character in
.pn 126
which she first saw him was Lear, and having
written her opinion of that wonderful impersonation
to a mutual friend, who showed it to him, the scenic
hero called upon her at her lodgings in Henrietta
Street, Covent Garden. He was delighted with his
new acquaintance, and took a pride and pleasure in
introducing her to the splendid circle in which he
moved. In six weeks she became intimate with the
rank and talent of the time. One of the two sprightly
sisters who accompanied her to London, graphically
describes her first interview with the great moralist of
the eighteenth century. Miss Reynolds telling the
doctor of the rapturous exclamations of the sisters on
the road, and Johnson shaking his scientific head at
Miss Hannah, and calling her “a silly thing!” she
seating herself in the lexicographer’s great chair,
hoping to catch a little ray of his genius, and he laughing
heartily, and assuring her that it was a chair in
which he never sat. Miss Hannah More’s quickness of
repartee, aptness of quotation, and kindliness of heart,
won the favour of the leaders of society. But in the
glittering saloons of fashion, when senators and peers
paid her homage, she stood quiet and self-possessed.
In 1775, while the first rich bloom still rested on the
fruits of her London experience, she remarks: “The
more I see of the honoured, famed, and great, the
more I see of the bitterness, the unsatisfactoriness, of
all created good, and that no earthly pleasure can
fill up the wants of the immortal principle within.”
None could more thoroughly weigh popular acclaim,
and more firmly pronounce it the hosannas of a
drivelling generation than this young school-mistress.
Her religious views, which had always been decided,
.pn 127
acquired, as years rolled on, greater force and consistency.
She never went to the theatre after the
death of her friend Garrick, in January, 1779—not
even to see her own tragedies performed. Step by step
she was led to doubt whether the life she was then living,
although blameless, was in full harmony with her
own ideas of Christian truth. Whilst these questions
were agitating her mind, she produced, as a kind of
index to her spiritual state, a series of “sacred
dramas,” which were even more favourably received
than any of her former publications. In 1786, she
withdrew from what she called “the world,” into the
pleasant villages of Gloucester and Somerset. In the
parish of Wrington, she built a cottage, which was
called Cowslip Green. Here she laboured diligently,
and lived a life of active benevolence. When in her
forty-third year, she assumed the matronly style of
Mrs. More, a fashion more prevalent then than now.
Among her most meritorious services, was the establishment
of Sunday and day schools, clothing associations,
and female benefit societies, throughout the
mining district of the Mendip Hills, where the
people were almost in a state of semi-barbarism. It
is sad to have to record that these efforts, instead
of receiving clerical countenance and aid, were vigorously
opposed by them. It is not necessary to enter
into the particulars of the commotion raised about
1799, by malevolent persons, against her schools,
nor to do more than allude to the unprovoked
slanders and ridicule of literary rivals, resolved
at all hazards to rob her of her fame. For more
than three years, to use her own heart-felt words,
she was “battered, hacked, scalped, tomahawked.”
.pn 128
Many things determined Mrs. More to quit Cowslip
Green. Perhaps the most powerful was the
purchase of a piece of ground in the vicinity. Having
selected a spot which commanded a view of the
fine scenery of the vale of Wrington, she built a
comfortable mansion. With this residence, her sisters
were so pleased, that they disposed of their property
at Bath, and made Barley Wood their home, in 1802.
The clouds of obloquy had now broken up, and in
the clear brightness which succeeded, Mrs. More had
thrown herself into fresh local charities, and was
engaged with new literary undertakings, when she received
a severe blow, in consequence of the death of
Bishop Porteus, in 1809. A few months before, he had
paid a visit to Barley Wood. The bishop bequeathed to
Mrs. More a legacy of £100, and she consecrated to
his memory, in the plantation near her house, an urn,
with an inscription as unpretending as her sorrow
was sincere.
The family circle which had remained unbroken
for fifty-six years, now approached inevitable dissolution.
Mary, the eldest sister, died in 1813. Elizabeth,
the second, sank to rest in 1816. Sarah, the
third, fell asleep in 1817. Martha, the fifth, departed
this life in 1819. The sisters had lived most happily
together, and these bereavements were felt by Mrs.
More with all the keenness of her sensitive nature.
The poor people had been accustomed to look to
Barley Wood as their chief resource, and scarcely a
day passed without the arrival of some petitioner
from the neighbourhood. For some weeks their
visits had ceased, and when Mrs. More asked the
schoolmaster of Shipham the reason, he answered,
.pn 129
“Why, madam, they be so cut up, that they have
not the heart to come!”
Years rolled on, and Barley Wood once more
became a place of general resort. But its mistress
was not destined to end her days in the home where
she had lived so long. The duties of housekeeping,
when devolved upon her in weakness and old age,
proved too great a burden. When the waste and
misconduct of her servants became manifest, she
tried to correct the evil by mild remonstrance; but
when at length discoveries were made, calculated to
represent her as the patroness of vice, or at least
as indifferent to its progress, she discharged her
eight pampered minions, and broke up her establishment
at sweet Barley Wood. As she was assisted
into the carriage, she cast one pensive parting glance
upon the spot she loved best on earth, and gently
exclaimed, “I am driven like Eve out of paradise;
but not like Eve, by angels.” On the 18th of April,
1828, she established herself at No. 4, Windsor
Terrace, Clifton.
In September, 1832, she had a serious illness, and
from that period, a decay of mental vigour was
perceptible. At length, nature seemed to shrink
from further conflict, and the time of her deliverance
drew nigh. On the 7th of September, 1833, within
five months of the completion of her eighty-ninth
year, she passed the barrier of time, and joined that
“multitude whom no man can number, who sing the
praises of God and of the Lamb for ever and ever.”
The shops in the city of Bristol were shut, and the
church bells rang muffled peals as the funeral procession
of that child of a charity schoolmaster moved
.pn 130
along the streets to the grave in Wrington churchyard.
The mortal remains of the five sisters rest
together under a large slab stone, inclosed by an iron
railing and overshadowed by a yew-tree. A mural
tablet in the parish church records their memory.
Mrs. Hannah More’s record is on high, and her
virtues are inscribed on an enduring monument: of
her most truly it might be said—
.nf b
“Marble need not mark thine ashes,
Sculpture need not tell of thee;
For thine image in thy writings
And on many a soul shall be.”
.nf-
.sp 2
.ce
SUCCESSFUL AUTHORSHIP.
Mrs. More as a woman of letters now demands
our attention. Probably no woman ever read more
books, or to better purpose; had more extensive
opportunities of exercising the faculty of observation,
or so sagaciously improved it. Her command
of language, erudite, rhetorical, conversational, and
colloquial, is commensurate with the noble literature
and tongue of Britain. In the days of her infancy,
when she could possess herself of a scrap of paper,
her delight was to scribble upon it some essay or
poem, with some well-directed moral. One couplet
of an infantine satire on Bristol has been preserved:—
.nf b
“This road leads to a great city,
Which is more populous than witty.”
.nf-
.ti 0
At this period, she was wont to make a carriage of a
chair, and then to call her sisters to ride with her
to London, to see bishops and booksellers. In 1762,
.pn 131
before she had completed her seventeenth year, she
wrote a pastoral drama, “The Search after Happiness,”
which was published in 1773, and in a short
time ran through three editions. In 1774, she
brought out a tragedy, “The Inflexible Captive.”
The following year it was acted at Exeter and Bath,
with the greatest applause, in the presence of a host
of distinguished persons. In 1776, she offered
Cadell, the publisher, her legendary tale of “Sir
Eldred of the Bower,” and the little poem of the
“Bleeding Rock,” which she had written some years
previously. She received forty guineas for them.
In 1777, her tragedy of “Percy” was produced at
Covent Garden theatre. The success of the play was
complete. An edition of nearly four thousand copies
was sold in a fortnight. The theatrical profits
amounted to £600, and for the copyright of the play
she got £150 more. In 1779, “The Fatal Falsehood”
was published, and notwithstanding several disadvantages,
was well received. In 1782, she presented
to the world a volume of “Sacred Dramas,” with a
poem annexed, entitled “Sensibility.” They were
extremely popular with the arbiters of taste, and sold
with extraordinary rapidity. In 1786, she published
another volume of poetry, “Florio: a Tale for Fine
Gentlemen and Fine Ladies,” and “The Bas Bleu;
or, Conversation.” These received a welcome as enthusiastic
as if England had been one vast drawing-room,
and she the petted heiress, sure of social
applause for all her sayings and doings. In 1788,
appeared “Thoughts on the Importance of the Manners
of the Great to General Society.” It was
published anonymously, but the writer was soon
.pn 132
recognised, and the book obtained an enormous sale.
In 1791, she issued a sequel to this work, under the
title of “An Estimate of the Religion of the Fashionable
World.” It was bought up and read with the
same avidity as its predecessor. In 1792, she produced
a dialogue, called “Village Politics.” Thousands
of copies were purchased by the Government
for gratuitous distribution, and it was translated into
several languages. In 1793, she published her “Remarks
on the Speech of M. Duport,” which brought
her in more than £240. In 1795, she commenced
“The Cheap Repository,” consisting of tales, both in
prose and verse. The undertaking was continued
for about three years, and each number attained to a
very large sale. In 1799, appeared her “Strictures
on the Modern System of Female Education.” Seven
large editions were sold in twelve months. In 1805,
was produced, “Hints towards forming the Character
of a young Princess,” for which she received the
thanks of the queen and royal family. In 1809, she
published “Cœlebs in search of a Wife,” two volumes.
The first edition was sold in a fortnight, and eleven
editions more were demanded in less than twelve
months. In 1811, “Practical Piety” made its appearance,
in two volumes. It was worthy of its large
sale and great celebrity. In 1812, her “Christian
Morals” was brought out, in two volumes, and met
with good reception, although not equal to that of
her two last works. In 1815, she published her
“Essay on the Character and Writings of St. Paul,”
two volumes; a work which, in the estimation of
competent judges, more than sustained her previous
reputation. In 1818, at the request of Sir Alexander
.pn 133
Johnston, she wrote a dramatic piece, “The Feast of
Freedom,” for translation into the Cingalese language,
to be performed by a native choir, at anniversary
celebrations of the 12th of August, 1816. In
1819, she published her “Moral Sketches of Prevailing
Opinions and Manners, Foreign and Domestic,
with Reflections on Prayer.” The first edition was
sold in one day, and realized £3000. The collection
of her writings is comprised in eleven volumes
octavo.
Her books bear testimony to her many talents,
good sense, and real piety. There occur, every now
and then, in her works, very original and very
profound observations, conveyed in the most brilliant
and inviting style. Her characters are often well
drawn, her scenes well painted, and she could be
amusing in no ordinary degree when she liked.
Although we have no hesitation in admitting her
into the long list of canonized bards, yet it must be
confessed that her literary renown is chiefly derived
from her prose works. She has been censured for
the frequent repetition of the same thought in
different words. Superficial readers, as well as
hearers, require such a mode of composition. Iteration
is not tautology.
The great success of the different works of our
authoress enabled her to live at ease, and to dispense
charities around her. She realized by her pen alone,
more than £30,000. Upwards of 50,000 copies of
her larger works were sold, while her tracts and
ballads were circulated over the country by millions.
We venture to affirm that her books were more
numerous, that they passed through more editions,
.pn 134
that they were printed in more languages, and that
they were read by more people, than those of
any other authoress upon record.
.sp 2
.ce
CHARACTER OF MRS. MORE.
Genius is not often combined with a strong physical
constitution. Mrs. More was no exception to this
rule; for although her general health was about the
average, she often composed under aches and pains
which would have entirely deterred others from the use
of the pen. Her figure was graceful, and her manners
captivating. The eye, which her sisters called “diamond,”
and which the painters complained they
could not put upon canvas, coruscated, and her
countenance sparkled, when engaged in conversation.
She knew that in all companies, she was a principal
object of attention, yet she never wore a jewel or
trinket, or anything of the merely ornamental kind,
during her whole life, though much of that life was
spent in the society of the great and high-born.
In glancing at her intellectual character, the first
thing that strikes us is its versatility—a fact proved
by this, that she frequently appears in different
compartments. Thus she was at once a poetess, a
dramatist, a fictionist, a moralist, a religious writer,
and a conversationalist. No wonder that she often
received messages from His Majesty King George
the Third, from the Queen, and other members of
the royal family; and that her friendship was eagerly
sought by coronets and mitres. Mr. Roberts, one of
her biographers, says:—“All the powers of her mind
were devoted to the solid improvement of society.
.pn 135
Her aims were all practical; and it would be difficult
to name another who has laid before the public so
copious a variety of original thoughts and reasonings,
without any admixture of speculation or hypothesis.”
The moral capacity is the imperial crown of
humanity. Veneration, benevolence, conscientiousness,
hope, faith, are the brightest jewels of this
crown. In Mrs. More, the moral sentiments were
superior even to the intellectual faculties. She exactly
discerned the signs of the times, and adroitly
adapted her writings to the necessities of her generation.
All of them are more or less calculated to
benefit society, and never did personal example more
strongly enforce preceptive exhortation, than in the
instance of this eminent and excellent woman.
.sp 2
.h3 id=c5s2
SECTION II.—ANNE GRANT.
“We have no hesitation in attesting our belief that Mrs. Grant’s
writings have produced a strong and salutary effect upon her
countrymen, who not only found recorded in them much of
national history and antiquities, which would otherwise have
been forgotten, but found them combined with the soundest and
best lessons of virtue and morality.”
.rj
Sir Walter Scott.
.sp 2
.ce
LETTER-WRITERS.
A good deal of literary fame has been won by
letter-writing. It were easy to name authors whose
letters are generally considered as their best works,
and who owe their position in British literature,
to those pictures of society and manners, compounded
.pn 136
of wit and gaiety, shrewd observations, sarcasm, censoriousness,
high life, and sparkling language, for
which their correspondence is remarkable. We might
refer, in proof of our position, to a celebrated peer,
who was the most accomplished man of his age. In
point of morality his letters are not defensible. Johnson
said that they taught the morals of a courtesan
with the manners of a dancing-master. But they are
also characterised by good sense and refined taste,
and are models of literary art. The copyright was
sold for £1500, and five editions were called for within
twelve months. Authoresses have also been distinguished
for the excellence and extent of their
epistolary correspondence. We might adduce as an
example a noble lady, who to her myrtle-crown of
beauty, and her laurel-crown of wit, added the oaken-leaved
crown,—the corona civica,—due to those who
have saved fellow-creatures’ lives. For graphic power,
clearness, and idiomatic grace of style, no less than as
pictures of foreign scenery, and manners, and decisiveness
about life, her letters have very few equals, and
scarcely any superiors. There can be no doubt as to
the utility and importance of letter-writing, yet few
seem to cultivate with care this department. But let
us rejoice, that though the excuses and apologies of
the majority prove that they are not what we conventionally
term good correspondents, yet there are
some splendid exceptions, who are aware of the importance
of this art as a means of promoting social
affection, and moral pleasure and profit, and whose
style scarcely yields in simplicity, playfulness, and
ease, to the eminent examples already cited.
.pn 137
.sp 2
.ce
BIOGRAPHY.
Anne Macvicar, was born at Glasgow, on the 21st
of February, 1755. She was an only child. Her
father, Duncan Macvicar, she describes as having been
“a plain, brave, pious man.” He appears to have
been brought up to an agricultural life, but having
caught the military spirit, which in that day was
almost universal among the Scottish Highlanders, he
became an officer in the British army. Her mother
was a descendant of the ancient family of Stewart of
Invernahyle in Argyleshire. She was a Lowlander
only by the mere accident of her birthplace. Nursed
at Inverness, the home of her grandmother, the earliest
sights and sounds with which she was familiar, were
those of Highland scenery and Highland tongues.
In a paper containing a rapid view of her childhood,
she says, “I began to live to the purposes of feeling,
observation, and recollection, much earlier than children
usually do. I was not acute, I was not sagacious,
but I had an active imagination and uncommon
powers of memory. I had no companion; no one
fondled or caressed me, far less did any one take the
trouble of amusing me. I did not till the sixth year
of my age possess a single toy. A child with less
activity of mind, would have become torpid under the
same circumstances. Yet whatever of purity of
thought, originality of character, and premature thirst
for knowledge distinguished me from other children
of my age, was, I am persuaded, very much owing to
these privations. Never was a human being less
improved, in the sense in which that expression is
generally understood; but never was one less spoiled
.pn 138
by indulgence, or more carefully preserved from every
species of mental contagion. The result of the
peculiar circumstances in which I was placed had the
effect of making me a kind of anomaly very different
from other people, and very little influenced by the
motives, as well as very ignorant of the modes of thinking
and acting, prevalent in the world at large.” These
singular influences directed her to authorship in the
first instance, and gave much of its interest to what
she wrote.
When eighteen months old, she was brought back
to Glasgow, that her father might have a parting look
of her before leaving his native country for America,
in the 77th regiment of foot. His wife and daughter
remained in Glasgow, in the eastern extremity of the
town. Probably from hearing her mother describing
the New World as westward, Anne Macvicar set out
one Sunday evening, when only two years and eight
months old, and walked a mile to the west of the
Trongate. A lady saw, with some surprise, a child
neatly dressed in white, with bare head and bare
arms, walking alone in the middle of the street. She
asked her where she came from; but the only answer
was, “from mamma’s house.” Then she inquired
where she was going, and was told in a very imperfect
manner “to America, to seek papa.” However, while
the lady was lost in wonder, a bell was heard in the
street, and the public crier had the pleasure of restoring
the young traveller to her mother.
In 1758, she arrived with her mother at Charleston,
and soon after they were settled at Claverock, where
Mr. Macvicar was stationed with a party of Highlanders.
Here she not only learned to read, but to
.pn 139
love truth and simplicity. Her father meanwhile
being engaged in active service.
In 1760, he returned from the campaign, and they
went to Albany, on the Hudson River, where she saw
the Highland soldiers dragging through the streets
the cannon destined for the attack on the Havannah.
She thus describes an excursion about this time up
the Hudson in boats. “We had a most romantic
journey; sleeping sometimes in the woods, sometimes
in forts, which formed a chain of posts in the then
trackless wilderness. We had no books but the Bible
and some military treatises; but I grew familiar with
the Old Testament; and a Scotch sergeant brought
me ‘Blind Harry’s Wallace;’ which by the aid of
such sergeant, I conned so diligently, that I not only
understood the broad Scotch, but caught an admiration
for heroism, and an enthusiasm for Scotland,
that ever since has been like a principle of life.”
She returned from Oswego to Albany in 1766; and,
on her way back, a Captain Campbell gave her a handsome
copy of Milton; concerning which she says, “I
studied, to very little purpose no doubt, all the way down
in the boat; but which proved a treasure to me afterwards,
as I never rested till I found out the literal meaning
of the words; and, in progress of time, at an age I
am ashamed to mention, entered into the full spirit of it.
If I had ever any elevation of thought, expansion of
mind, or genuine taste for the sublime or beautiful, I
owe it to my diligent study of this volume.” Facts
prove that the growth of mind is best promoted by
that which at first it is capable of understanding only
partially. This is clear from what came out of Anne
Macvicar’s study of Paradise Lost. The most eminent
.pn 140
woman in Albany at that time was the widow of
Colonel Schuyler. Her house was the resort of all
strangers, whose manners or conduct entitled them
to her regard. Her ancestors, understanding, and
education, gave her great influence in society, which
was increased by the liberal use she made of her large
fortune. “Some time after our arrival at Albany,”
writes our authoress, “I accompanied my parents one
evening to visit Madame Schuyler, whom I regarded
as the Minerva of my imagination, and treasured all
her discourses as the veritable words of wisdom.
The conversation fell upon dreams and forewarnings.
I rarely spoke till spoken to at any time; but of a
sudden the spirit moved me to say that bad angels
sometimes whispered dreams into the soul. When
asked for my authority, I surprised every one, but
myself most of all, by a long quotation from Eve’s
fatal dream infusing into her mind the ambition that
led to guilt. After this happy quotation I became a
great favourite, and Madame Schuyler never failed
to tell any one who had read Milton of the origin of
her partiality.” At this time Anne Macvicar was
hardly seven years old.
Mr. Macvicar, like most Scotchmen, had the faculty
of making money, and with the view of settling in
America had obtained a large grant of land, and had
purchased several valuable properties, the market
value of which was every day rising. Miss Macvicar
was looked upon as an heiress; but her father, falling
into bad health, was obliged to return to Scotland in
1768, bringing his wife and daughter along with him.
He had left America without being able to dispose
of his property, and on the breaking out of the revolutionary
.pn 141
war, the whole was confiscated by the
republican government.
In 1773, her father was appointed barrack master
of Fort Augustus, in Inverness-shire. Here she first
met the Rev. James Grant, a young clergyman of
refined mind, sound principle, and correct judgment.
At that time he was chaplain to the garrison, but in
1776, he became the minister of Laggan, a neighbouring
parish, and in 1779, was united in marriage
to Miss Macvicar. In that Highland parish, fifty
miles from Perth, and the same distance from
Inverness, they lived contentedly in the chosen lot
of Agur.
Time flowed on characterised by the usual amount
of shadow and sunshine. In 1801, her husband was
carried off by consumption; and she found herself
burdened with the care of eight children, to which
was added the pressure of some pecuniary obligations
incurred by a too liberal hospitality. The children
inherited the same insidious disease. Three sank
under their mother’s eyes in infancy, and the eldest,
who held a commission in the army, died a few
months before his father. Of twelve sons and
daughters only one survived her.
All her certain income was a small pension from
the War Office, to which she was entitled in consequence
of her husband having obtained a military
chaplaincy a few years before his death. In these
circumstances, her first step was to take charge of a
small farm in the neighbourhood of Laggan; but
this expedient soon failed.
In 1803, she unwillingly removed from Laggan to
Woodend, now called Gartur, two miles south-west
.pn 142
of Stirling, a place of unrivalled beauty. In 1806,
we find Mrs. Grant residing in Stirling, so renowned
in Scottish history, and supporting herself and family
by literature.
In 1810, Mrs. Grant removed from Stirling to
Edinburgh, where she spent the remainder of her
life, distinguished in society for her great talents,
and esteemed for her many virtues. Her object in
making the capital her home, and the circle in which
she mingled, are fully described in her correspondence.
In 1820, she fell down a stair, which caused serious
injury, followed by long and severe suffering, and by
lameness for the rest of her days. In 1825, a pension,
which at first amounted to only £50, but was afterwards
increased to £100 per annum, was granted her
by government, in consequence of an application in
her behalf, which was drawn out by Sir Walter Scott,
and subscribed by the most distinguished literati in
Edinburgh; who therein declared their belief that
Mrs. Grant had rendered eminent services to the
cause of religion, morality, knowledge, and taste.
Notwithstanding many and heavy family trials,
this strong-hearted woman continued to correspond
with her friends, and receive those who visited her,
until the end of October, 1838, when she was seized
with a severe attack of influenza. Her son was with
her during her last illness, and she was sedulously
attended by a lady and servants. She died at her
house 9, Manor Place, on the 7th November, 1838,
at the advanced age of eighty-four years.
A few days afterwards, a mournful multitude followed
her remains to the cemetery of St. Cuthbert’s,
then nearly new. She was buried near the graves of
.pn 143
four of her daughters. Her son erected a monument
to her memory.
.sp 2
.ce
LITERARY CAREER.
We receive a vast amount of education from the
localities in which we live. From the sketch of her
own life it is evident that Mrs. Grant was well aware
of the educative influence of scenery. Who can tell
how much she learned, during the ten years she lived
beside the vast lakes, the magnificent rivers, and the
primæval forests of America; and the thirty years
spent amid the beauties and glories of the Highlands,
apart from all set teaching, away from all formal
schools. It is good to see the horizon one red line,
pointing like a finger to the unrisen sun—to hear the
earliest notes of the birds—to trample on the emerald
grass and the blooming heather—to notice the
“morning spread upon the mountains,” peak telegraphing
to peak that the king of day has just entered
the sky—to listen to such stories as lonely hills and
misty moors alone can inspire. In this sublime
natural system of education, Mrs. Grant had a large
share. It stirred her warm imagination, and nourished
her poetic faculty.
After the death of her excellent husband, Mrs.
Grant had mainly to depend for bread to herself
and children, upon her own exertions. In these
circumstances she was led to try whether she could
not better her fortunes by the exercise of her literary
talents, hitherto employed only for her own amusement
and the gratification of a few intimate friends.
Her first essay at poetry was scrawled in a kind of
.pn 144
Miltonic verse, when little more than nine years old.
She wrote no more till she wandered on the banks of
the Cart, and afterwards at Fort Augustus, and again
upon her way home to Laggan, after spending some
months at Glasgow. All these scraps she gave away,
without preserving a single copy. But the friends
among whom Mrs. Grant scattered her verses carefully
treasured them, and in 1803, her first publication—“The
Highlanders, and other Poems”—was announced
to be published by subscription; and so well
did her friends exert themselves, that three thousand
subscribers were soon procured. This volume, though
not reviewed in the most flattering terms, was well
received by the public; and its profits enabled Mrs.
Grant to discharge her debts. The following description
of the Highland poor, is from the principal
poem in the collection:—
.nf b
“Where yonder ridgy mountains bound the scene,
The narrow opening glens that intervene
Still shelter, in some lonely nook obscure,
One poorer than the rest, where all are poor:
Some widowed matron, hopeless of relief,
Who to her secret breast confines her grief;
Dejected sighs the wintry night away,
And lonely muses all the summer day.
Her gallant sons, who, smit with honour’s charms,
Pursued the phantom Fame through war’s alarms,
Return no more; stretched on Hindostan’s plain,
Or sunk beneath the unfathomable main,
In vain her eyes the watery waste explore
For heroes—fated to return no more!”
.nf-
“The Highlanders,” which gives the title to the book,
is a poetical regret at the hard fate that forced so
many to emigrate. The other poems are on a variety
.pn 145
of topics, chiefly in illustration of the manners of the
people among whom she lived. Take the following
stanza on a sprig of heather:—
.nf b
“Flower of the wild! whose purple glow
Adorns the dusky mountain’s side,—
Not the gay hues of Iris’ horn,
Nor garden’s artful varied pride;
With all its wealth of sweets could cheer,
Like thee, the hardy mountaineer.”
.nf-
One of her songs, commencing, “Oh, where, tell
me where?” written on the occasion of the Marquis
of Huntly’s departure for Holland with his regiment,
the 92nd, or Gordon Highlanders, in 1799, has
become generally known. We select the following
verse as a specimen:—
.nf b
“Oh, what, tell me what, does your Highland laddie wear?
Oh, what, tell me what, does your Highland laddie wear?
A bonnet with a lofty plume, the gallant badge of war,
And a plaid across the manly breast that soon shall wear a star;
A bonnet with a lofty plume, the gallant badge of war,
And a plaid across the manly breast that soon shall wear a star.”
.nf-
The merit, however, of Mrs. Grant’s poems was
really slight; but success prompted another attempt
at authorship. The result was her best and most
popular work, the “Letters from the Mountains,”
which was published in 1806, went through several
editions, and was highly appreciated among the
talented and influential men of the day. No person
was so much astonished as herself on hearing that
“Letters from the Mountains,” divided with some
other publications the attention of readers. In
October, 1807, she writes:—“Longman, who is
doubtless the prince of booksellers, has written me
.pn 146
a letter, expressed with such delicacy and liberality
as is enough to do honour to all Paternoster Row:
he tells me that the profits of the second edition of
the Letters amount to £400, of which they keep
£100 to answer for bad debts and uncalculated
expenses, and against the beginning of next year I
get the other £300.” Publishers, as a rule, deal
liberally with popular writers. “Memoirs of an
American Lady, with Sketches, Manners, and Scenery
in America, as they existed previous to the Revolution,”
were published in 1808. She received £200
as profits from the New World. “Essays on the
Superstitions of the Highlanders of Scotland, with
Traditions from the Gaelic,” appeared in 1811; and
in no degree detracted from her well-earned literary
reputation. A poem, entitled “Eighteen Hundred
and Thirteen,” was published in 1814. Afterwards
her pen was occasionally employed in magazine
contributions. In 1821, the Highland Society of
London awarded her their gold medal for the best
essay on the “Past and Present State of the Highlands
of Scotland.”
In the words of a competent critic, “The writings
of this lady display a lively and observant fancy,
and considerable powers of landscape painting. They
first drew attention to the more striking and romantic
features of the Scottish highlands, afterwards so
fertile a theme for the genius of Scott.”
.sp 2
.ce
CHARACTER OF MRS. GRANT.
Mrs. Grant was tall, and, in her youth, slender, but
after her accident she became rather corpulent. In
her later years she was described as a venerable ruin;
.pn 147
so lame as to be obliged to walk with crutches, and
even with that assistance her motions were slow and
languid. Her broad and noble forehead, relieved by
the parted grey hair, excelled even youthful beauty.
There was a dignity and a sedateness in her carriage
which rendered her highly interesting, and her excellent
constitution bore her through a great deal.
Her conversation was original and characteristic;
frank, yet far from rude; replete at once with amusement
and instruction. For nearly thirty years she
was a principal figure in the best and most intellectual
society of the Scottish metropolis; and to the
last her literary celebrity made her an object of
curiosity and attraction to strangers from all parts of
the world. The native simplicity of her mind, and
an entire freedom from all attempt at display, made
the youngest person feel in the presence of a friend.
Her extensive correspondence, she believed, had a
tendency to prolong her life. She was fond of having
flowers and birds in her sitting room. Nature in all
her phases, aspects, and transitions, had charms for
her. Notwithstanding her increasing infirmities, and
even with the accumulated sorrows of her peculiar
lot, she did not find old age so dark and unlovely as
the Celtic bard.
The cheerfulness of Mrs. Grant, and the lively
appreciation she had of everything done to promote
her comfort, rendered her, to the latest period of her
prolonged existence, a delightful companion; while
the warm interest she felt in whatever contributed to
the happiness of others, kept her own affections alive.
She was left a widow, without fortune, and with a
large family dependent upon her for their subsistence.
.pn 148
Surely if any one had a clear title of immunity from
the obligation to carry her cares beyond her own
threshold, it was this woman. Yet she devoted much
of her time to benevolent efforts. If there was any
quality of her well-balanced mind which stood out
more prominently than another, it was that benevolence
which made her study the comfort of every
person who came in contact with her. Many and
hard were her struggles for life, but she never lost
confidence in Divine goodness.
.sp 2
.h3 id=c5s3
SECTION III.—ANNE LOUISA STAËL.
“What woman indeed, (and we may add) how many men, could
have preserved all the grace and brilliancy of Parisian society in
analyzing its nature—explained the most abstruse metaphysical
theories of Germany precisely, yet perspicuously and agreeably—and
combined the eloquence which inspires exalted sentiments of
virtue, with the enviable talent of gently indicating the defects
of men or of nations, by the skilfully softened touches of a polite
and merciful pleasantry.”
.rj
Sir James Mackintosh.
.sp 2
.ce
VERSATILITY OF GENIUS.
It has been maintained that all human minds are
originally constituted alike, and that the diversity of
gifts which afterwards appears results from education.
But it is plain enough that God hath made marvellous
differences, original and constitutional, which no
education can wholly reduce. All children are not
alike precocious; and all adults are not alike capable
of learning or of teaching. Education will do much,
.pn 149
but it cannot convert talent into genius, or efface the
distinction which subsists between them. No education
can give what nature has denied—for education
can only work on that which is given. Some receive
at birth minds so obtuse, that although sent to school,
furnished with accomplished teachers, and surrounded
with all the appliances of learning, they emerge
dunces; while others, by the sheer force of their
genius, push their way upwards to eminence, amid
every form of hardship, difficulty, and privation. The
character of mental products is as much determined
by the natural condition and constitution of mind as
are the natural products of the earth determined by
its physical conditions. It would be just as irrational
to expect glowing pictures, grand conceptions, and
lofty harmonies to spring in the universal mind, as
to expect to clothe the whole globe with the cocoa, the
palm-tree, and the banian. Original genius must be
inherited. The thoughts which rise in the gifted
mind—the flash of wit and the play of fancy—are as
independent of the will as is the weed at the bottom
of the sea, or the moss on the summit of the hill independent
of the farmer. In glancing over the catalogue
of our mental aristocracy, we are struck with the
versatility of genius. It is no hard unbending thing,
confined to a few topics, and hemmed in by a few
principles; but a free mountain flame, not unfrequently
as broad in its range as burning in its
radiance. Many of both sexes are equally happy in
science, art, philosophy, and literature.
.pn 150
.sp 2
.ce
BIOGRAPHY.
Anne Louisa Germaine Necker, was born at Paris,
April 22nd, 1766. Her father was the celebrated M.
Necker, finance minister of Louis XVI., in the times
immediately preceding the revolution. Her mother
was the daughter of a Protestant clergyman, and
would have been the wife of Gibbon, had not the
father of the future historian threatened his son with
disinheritance if he persisted in wooing a bride whose
dowry consisted only of her own many excellencies.
Few children have come into the world under more
favourable auspices. She had wise parents, liberal
culture, intellectual friends, ample fortune, splendid
talents, and good health. Her favourite amusement
during childhood consisted in cutting out paper kings
and queens, and making them act their part in mimic
life. Her mother did not approve of this, but found
it as difficult to stop her daughter from such play, as
it was to prevent men and women, some years after,
from playing with kings and queens not made of
paper.
The training of their only child was to both parents
a matter of immense importance. Her talents were
precociously developed, and whilst yet the merest
girl, she would listen with eager and intelligent interest
to the conversation of the eminent savans who
constantly visited her father’s house. Without opening
her mouth she seemed to speak in her turn, so
much expression had her mobile features. When only
ten years old she conceived the idea of marrying her
mother’s early lover, that he might be retained
near her parents, both of whom delighted in his company.
.pn 151
At the age of twelve she amused herself in
writing comedies.
Perhaps Mademoiselle Necker lost nothing by
having no regular tutor. The germs of knowledge
once fairly implanted, an intellect like hers may, like
the forest sapling, be left to its own powers of growth.
Roaming through the rural scenes of St. Ouen, her
mind was enriching itself by observation and reflection.
Circumstances which would have depressed
multitudes only quickened her. She turned all things
to account. Her power of mental assimilation was
extraordinary.
In 1786, Mademoiselle Necker was married to the
Baron de Staël-Holstein, Swedish ambassador at the
court of Paris. The young Swede was a Protestant,
amiable, handsome, courtly, and a great favourite
with royalty. What more could the most fastidious
require? It was not fashionable to put intellectual
features in the bond. Perhaps had she been thirty
instead of twenty years old, even in France, where
the filial virtues to a large extent nullify the conjugal,
no motherly persuasion nor fatherly approval would
have induced her to marry a dull, unimaginative man
like Baron de Staël, for whom she felt no kind of affection.
After a few years a separation took place
between them, two sons and a daughter having
been meantime the fruit of their union. In France a
wife may withdraw from her husband on the plea of
saving her fortune for her children, and if unprincipled
enough, console herself with another whose
society she prefers. Madame de Staël was incapable
of becoming galante.
On her marriage she opened her saloons, and her
.pn 152
position, wealth, and wit attracted to them the most
brilliant inhabitants of Paris. At first she does not
seem to have attained any remarkable degree of celebrity.
She was too much of a genius. Paris was
full of anecdotes about her foibles and infringements
of etiquette. About this time too she began to produce
those wonderful books which form an era in the
history of modern literature, and which demonstrate
that in intellectual endowment she had no compeer
among her sex. As might be expected in a disciple
of Rousseau, she cherished great expectations in reference
to the French revolution of 1789; but soon ceased
to admire a movement which discarded her beloved
father, and began its march towards a reign of terror.
Madame de Staël suffered dreadfully during the
period that Maximilien Robespierre headed the populace
in the Champ de Mars. All the brilliant society
to which she had been accustomed from the cradle
were proscribed, or hiding in holes or corners of the
city they had made so glorious. Liberty, the theme of
her childish pen, had been metamorphosed into a bloodthirsty
tyrant. Before midnight on the 9th of August,
1792, the forty-eight tocsins of the sections began to
sound. Madame de Staël might have secured her own
safety by a flight into Switzerland, but she could not
leave Paris while her friends were in danger, and she
might be of use to them. The words “Swedish Embassy,”
on her door, gave her some security. By her
passionate eloquence and consummate diplomacy she
saved M. de Narbonne, and several other distinguished
persons. On the morning of the 2nd of September,
she set out from Paris in all the state of an ambassadress.
In a few minutes her carriage was stopped,
.pn 153
her servants overpowered, and she herself compelled
to drive to the Hotel de Ville. When she alighted,
one fiend in human shape made a thrust at her, and
she was saved from death only by the policeman who
accompanied her. She was taken before Robespierre,
and her carriage might have been torn to pieces and
herself murdered, but for the interference of a republican
named Manuel, who on a former occasion had
felt the power of her eloquence. Next day Manuel
sent her a policeman to escort her to the frontier, and
thus Madame de Staël escaped to Coppet.
Early in 1793, she went to England, and took up
her residence at Juniper Hall, near Richmond, Surrey.
No one has been able to assign a very distinct
reason for this journey. Perhaps she came simply to
breathe the air of liberty, and to become better acquainted
with a country she had always loved. At
all events, she became the centre of a little colony of
French emigrants. Among the refugees were many
illustrious people. Their funds were not in a flourishing
condition, but they managed to purchase one
small carriage, and ex-ministers took their turn to act
as footmen, when they rode out to see the country.
The little party was soon scattered. In the summer
of 1793, Madame de Staël rejoined her father in Switzerland.
At Coppet she devoted her great energy to
the succour of exiles, and the reconciliation of France
and England.
The earliest intercourse between Madame de Staël
and Napoleon Bonaparte occurred between his return
from Italy and his departure for Egypt, towards the
end of 1797. At first she submitted as willingly as
France—as indeed the whole world, to the fascination
.pn 154
of his genius; but she was one of the earliest to discover
that he was merely a skilful chess-player, who
had chosen the human race as his adversary, and expected
to checkmate it. She expressed her opinions
openly and with all the force for which she was celebrated,
and they left upon the first man of the day
many unpleasant impressions. The future emperor
gathered something from his brother Joseph concerning
the principles of the most popular saloon in Paris, and
watched for an opportunity to get rid of such an influential
foe. Her father wrote a book which gave
great umbrage. It was not deemed safe to touch
him; but he who was reckoned the greatest hero of
the modern world, was cowardly enough to visit the
sin of the father upon the daughter; and so Madame
de Staël was informed that her presence would be
tolerated in Paris no longer. In 1802, she was exiled
from France itself. Rejoining her sick husband, she
closed his eyes in death at Poligny, and became an
eligible widow.
The death of her father in 1804, recalled her
to Coppet. Subsequently, she was permitted to
return to Paris. But fresh difficulties occurred with
Napoleon, and she was banished anew to Coppet. In
1808, the Baron de Staël, secured an interview with
the master of the world, and pleaded eloquently on
behalf of his mother. The inexorable deliverance of
the emperor is too characteristic and amusing to be
omitted. “Let her go to Rome, Naples, Vienna,
Berlin, Milan, Lyons; if she wants to publish libels,
let her go to London. I should think of her with
pleasure in any of those cities; but Paris, you see, is
where I live myself, and I want none but those who
.pn 155
love me there.” The Baron de Staël renewed his entreaties.
“You are very young; if you were as old as I,
you would judge more accurately; but I like to see a
son pleading for his mother. If I had put her in
prison, I would liberate her, but I will not recall her
from exile. Every one knows that imprisonment is
misery; but your mother need not be miserable when
all Europe is left to her.” The man of destiny acted
on the dictate of a sound prudential policy. A woman
so uncompromising and fearless—of such weight of
genius and reputation—was not to be tolerated in
Paris by the head of a government more or less the
sport of the hour.
During this stay at Coppet she made the acquaintance
(1810) of a young Italian of good family named
Rocca, who had fought in the French army in Spain,
and had gone to Geneva to recover from his wounds.
The young officer of hussars, aged twenty-five, worshipped
Madame de Staël; and she, a mature matron
of forty-six, married him, but the marriage was kept
secret, in order, it is said, that she should not be
obliged to change her celebrated name.
Napoleon having banished Schlegel, the eminent
German poet and critic (who had accompanied her
in her travels and been tutor to her son), and subjected
herself to a petty surveillance, she rushed restlessly
over Europe to Vienna, Moscow, St. Petersburgh,
thence through Finland to Stockholm. In 1813, she
arrived in England, and was the lion, or lioness, of at
least one London season, the whig aristocracy fêting
her, and Sir James Mackintosh trumpeting her praises
in the Edinburgh Review. She was celebrated for the
persecutions she had endured, and as the only person
.pn 156
of note who had stood firm against Napoleon to the
last.
At the Restoration, she returned to her beloved
Paris. From Louis XVIII. she met with the most
gracious reception; and restitution was made to her
of two million livres long due to her father from the
royal treasury. But her old foe was only caged. He
broke the bars of his prison, cleared the inconstant
court in a few hours, was hailed by the army and the
people, and spared none who had taken part in the
restoration. “I felt,” she says, “when I heard of his
coming, as if the ground yawned beneath my feet.”
In the spring of 1816, she was at Coppet, the centre
of a brilliant circle, with Lord Byron near her at
the Villa Diodati. To Madame de Staël, Paris was
the centre of the world, and accordingly in the autumn
of this year we find her there again, the lady-leader of
the Constitutionalists. In her saloon might have been
seen Wellington and Blucher, Humboldt and Châteaubriand,
Sismondi and Constant, the two Schlegels,
Canova the sculptor, and Madame Recamier, whom the
defeat of Napoleon had once more restored to liberty.
But she did not long enjoy the society of the metropolis
which she loved so well. In February, 1817, she
was seized with a violent fever. On her deathbed she
said to Châteaubriand, “I have loved God, my father,
and liberty.” The royal family were constant inquirers
after her health, and the Duke of Wellington called
daily at her door to ask if hope might yet remain.
At two o’clock on Monday, the 14th July, she died in
perfect peace, at the age of fifty-one. The day of her
death was the anniversary of the Revolution which
had exerted so great an influence on her life.
.pn 157
She died at Paris, but her dust was laid beside the
dust of her father at Coppet. Perhaps no one ever
felt more strongly the stirrings of the soul within
than Madame de Staël. So long as genius and
patriotism and piety can excite the admiration of the
world, so long will her tomb be one of the holiest
shrines of the imagination.
.sp 2
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ANALYSIS OF WRITINGS.
Madame de Staël may be safely pronounced the
greatest writer who has yet appeared among women.
At an early age, she applied herself to literary composition,
and produced several plays and tales. To
the elements of genius, intellect, intelligence, and
imagination, God added the vehemence of passion,
and she became the highest representative of female
authorship. We humbly submit that it is impossible
to read her incomparable works without feeling the
soul elate, and seeing a glory not of earth shed over
this mortal scene. A philosophy profounder than the
philosophy of the schools is the imperishable legacy
she has left to posterity. She wrote neither to please
nor to surprise, but to profit others; and whatever
may be the faults or defects of her writings, they
have this greatest of all merit,—intense, life-pervading,
and life-breathing truth.
In 1788, on the eve of the Revolution, she issued her
first work of note, the eloquent and enthusiastic “Lettres
sur les Ecrits et le Caractère de J. J. Rousseau.”
These letters are, however, rather a girlish eulogy
than a just and discriminating criticism. The news
of the king’s execution on the 21st of January, 1793,
.pn 158
inexpressibly shocked her; and in the month of August
she sought to save the life of the queen, by publishing
“Réflexions sur le Procès de la Reine, par une Femme.”
In this appeal, which deserves to rank among the
classics of the human race, her first word is to her
own sex. She then refers to her illustrious client’s
devotion to her husband and children; labours to show
that the death of the queen would be prejudicial to
the republic; then draws a picture of what she must
have suffered during her imprisonment, and argues
that, if guilty, she has been sufficiently punished.
Her pleadings for the fallen queen were too late to
be effective. In 1794, she issued a pamphlet, entitled
“Réflexions sur la Paix, adressées à M. Pitt et aux
Français.” The stand-point of this spirited brochure
is that of a friend of Lafayette, the Constitutionalists
of France, and a British Foxite. The next pamphlet
she published, was in 1795: “Réflexions sur la Paix
Intérieure.” It is a valuable contribution to the political
history of the times; but as it was never sold to
the public, we shall not dwell upon it. This year also,
she published at Lausanne, under the title “Recueil
de Morceaux Détachés,” a collection of her juvenile
writings. This work manifests an intimate knowledge
of the principal romances, not only of France, but of
Europe. In the summer of 1796, her work—“De
l’Influence des Passions sur le Bonheur des Individus et
des Nations,” a work full of originality and genius.
She treated first of the passions; then of the sentiments
which are intermediate between the passions
and the resources which we find in ourselves; and
finally, of the resources which we find in ourselves.
Here she first revealed her almost unequalled power
.pn 159
as a delineator of the human passions. In 1800, she
published, “De la Littérature Considérée dans ses Rapports
avec les Institutions sociales.” This work must
take an abiding place in the history of the female
mind. Few, if any, of her contemporaries of the male
sex could have executed it; and none of her own sex
could have planned it. “Delphine” was published in
1802. This romance greatly increased her reputation;
although subjected to much adverse criticism. But
far superior to it in every respect was “Corinne,” which
appeared in 1807, and which breathes in every page
the glowing and brilliant Italy which it partly paints.
Its success was instant and immense, and won for her
a really European reputation. “De l’Allemagne,” was
printed at Paris in 1810, but not published. The
whole edition was seized by the police; the plea afterwards
given for its suppression being that it was an
anti-national work. Several years afterwards, it was
published in London. This celebrated work consists
of four parts: Germany, and the German manners;
literature and the arts; philosophy and morals;
religion and enthusiasm. Sir James Mackintosh
considered it the most elaborate and masculine production
of the faculties of woman. It exhibits
throughout an almost unparalleled union of graceful
vivacity and philosophical ingenuity, and, according
to Goethe, broke down the Chinese wall of prejudice
which separated the rest of Europe from the fruitful
and flowery empire of German thought and imagination.
Her unfinished and posthumous book—“Dix
Années d’Exil,” was an impassioned denunciation of
Napoleon and his arbitrary rule. The whole was
evidently written under a galling sense of oppression
.pn 160
and wrong. The famous work, “Considérations sur
la Revolution Française,” was also posthumous.
From this necessarily imperfect analysis of Madame
de Staël’s writings, it will be seen that she was
endowed in the very “prodigality of heaven” with
genius of a creative order, with boundless fertility of
fancy, with an intellect of intense electric light, with a
tendency to search out the very quintessence of feeling,
and with an eloquence of the most impassioned kind.
“She could mount up with wings as an eagle, she
could run and not be weary, she could walk and not
be faint.”
.sp 2
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CHARACTER OF MADAME DE STAËL.
We enjoy the immense advantage of studying
Madame de Staël from a distance that is neither too
great nor too little; but she presents so many sides,
that it would be presumption on our part to expect
to render anything like a full and true portrait. She
had a good physical constitution, which is of far more
importance than many clever people seem to imagine.
Her personal appearance was plain; she had no good
feature but her eyes. Yet by her astonishing powers
of speech she made herself even more than agreeable.
Years increased her charms. Her beauty—if we
may so call it—was of the kind which improves with
time.
Madame de Staël had a vast intellect and a burning
nature—the sensibility of a woman and the strength
of a giant. She has been said to resemble Mrs.
Thrale in the ardour and warmth of her partialities.
M. L. Chénier, Benjamin Constant, M. de Bonald, M.
.pn 161
Villemain, M. Sainte-Beuve, have each in his turn
testified admiration of her brilliant capacity, almost
always oratorical, and especially distinguished by an
unrivalled superabundance and movement and ardour
of thought. Napoleon Bonaparte feared her more
than any of his talking and writing opponents.
“Why do you take any notice of her? surely you
need not mind a woman!” “That woman has shafts
which would reach a man if he were mounted on a
rainbow!”
There is little to be said against her. There is no
doubt of her vanity—but she had something to be
vain of. The concealment of her second marriage
was foolish; but she confessed it upon her deathbed
to her children, and recommended to their protection
the young child that had been its fruit. Yet blame
her for these faults as we may, we must still admire
her, as an affectionate daughter, a devoted wife, and
a loving mother; as a leader of society, and yet free
from its vices. She was noted for candour, integrity,
and kindness. French by birth, Swiss by lineage,
Swedish by marriage, English, German, Italian, and
Spanish by the adoptive power of sympathy and
knowledge, she belonged rather to Europe than to
France, and after French writers have done their best,
there will still remain points of view which only a
non-Frenchman can seize and occupy.
.pn 162
.sp 2
.h3 id=c5s4
SECTION IV.—CAROLINA, BARONESS NAIRNE.
“For winning simplicity, graceful expression, and exquisite
pathos, her compositions are specially remarkable; but when
her muse prompts to humour, the laugh is sprightly and
overpowering.”
.rj
Charles Rogers, LL.D.
.sp 2
.ce
WHAT IS POETRY?
It is much easier to give a negative than a positive
answer to this question. All that we seem to have
arrived at is, Poeta nascitur non fit; and that no
amount or kind of culture can bestow the divine
afflatus. Hesiod, in his “Theogony,” exhibits the
Muses in the performance of their highest functions,
singing choral hymns to their Heavenly Father, but
gives no proper definition of poetry. Aristotle, in
his treatise on “The Poetic,” does not explain its
essence, but merely its principal forms. Dr. Johnson
has attempted to define poetry in these words:
“Poetry is the art of uniting pleasure with truth, by
calling imagination to the aid of reason.” But it is
well known that poetry often unites pleasure to what
is not truth. According to Dr. Blair, “Poetry is the
language of passion or enlivened imagination, formed
most commonly into regular numbers.” This seems
a pretty near approach to a true definition. Still it
is defective, for there are parts of poetry which are
not included either under “passion or enlivened
imagination.” Competent critics will admit that a
true definition seizes and exhibits the distinctive
element and speciality of the thing defined; and
.pn 163
tried by this test every definition we are acquainted
with fails in doing the very thing required—determining
what may be called the “differential mark”
of poetry. Perhaps this question, which has so long
puzzled the literary world, may be incapable of a
categorical answer, but it seems to us essentially to
consist of fine thoughts, deeply felt, and expressed in
vivid and melodious language. Poets and poetesses
see farther than other people, feel more deeply, and
utter what they see and feel better. All history
testifies that the poetry which has come down to us
most deeply stamped with approbation, and which
appears most likely to see and glorify the ages of the
future, has been penetrated and inspired by moral
purpose, and warmed by religious feeling. Our great
kings and queens of song, are alike free from morbid
weakness, moral pollution, and doubtful speculation.
Such only may hope to send their names down, in
thunder and in music, through the echoing aisles of
the future. All lasting fame must rest on a good
foundation.
.sp 2
.ce
BIOGRAPHY.
The maiden name of the subject of this sketch was
Carolina Oliphant. She was the third daughter and
fifth child of Laurence Oliphant, Esq., of Gask,
Perthshire, who had espoused his cousin Margaret
Robertson, a daughter of Duncan Robertson, of
Strowan, and his wife a daughter of the second Lord
Nairne. The Oliphants of Gask were cadets of the
formerly noble house of Oliphant; whose ancestor,
Sir William Oliphant, of Aberdalgie, a powerful
.pn 164
knight, acquired distinction in the beginning of the
fourteenth century by defending the castle of Stirling,
against a formidable siege by the first Edward.
Carolina was born in the mansion house of Gask, on
the 16th of July, 1766. Her father was so keen a
Jacobite, that she, along with other two of his
children, were named after Prince Charles Edward.
Even the Prayer-Books which he put into his children’s
hands had the names of the exiled family pasted over
those of the reigning one. He could not bear the
name of the “German lairdie and his leddy,” to be
mentioned in his presence, and when any of the
family read the newspapers to him, the reader was
sharply reproved if their majesties were designated
anything else than the “K—— and Q——.” The
antecedents of the family naturally produced this
strong feeling. Carolina’s father and grandfather
had borne arms under Prince Charles in the fatal
campaign of 1745-6, which crushed for ever the hopes
of the Stuarts; and her grandmother had a lock from
the hair of the young Chevalier, which was given to
her the day it was cut.
The childhood of Carolina Oliphant was thus passed
amidst family traditions eminently fitted to stir her
warm imagination. Not only so, the natural surroundings
of her home were of the kind to nourish the
poetic faculty. It was the
.nf b
“Land of brown heath and shaggy wood,
Land of the mountain and the flood,”
.nf-
.ti 0
where green vales bedeck the landscape with verdure
and beauty; farmhouses stand half-way up the braes,
shadowed with birches; and old castles frown in
.pn 165
feudal dignity. Amid such magic scenes, Miss
Oliphant grew into that loving familiarity with
nature in all its various moods, which imparts to her
verses one of their many charms. She entered
eagerly into all the pleasures which the world can
afford its votaries. So energetic was she in her
gaiety, that “finding at a ball, in a watering-place,
that the ladies were too few for the dance, she drove
home, and awoke a young friend at midnight, and
stood in waiting till she was equipped to follow her
to the dance.”
But although no mere selfish, frivolous, fine lady,
bent solely upon her own enjoyments, yet it might
be said of her, “one thing thou lackest.” That best
gift, however, was soon to be hers. The kingdom of
heaven was brought near to her, and through grace,
unlike the young man in the gospel, she did not turn
away because of her possessions. “She was on a
visit to the old castle of Murthly, where an English
clergyman had also arrived. He was a winner of
souls. At morning worship she was in her place with
the household, and listened to what God’s ambassador
said on the promise, ‘Him that cometh unto Me I will
in no wise cast out.’ That forenoon she was seen no
more. When she appeared again her beautiful face
was spoiled with weeping. Beneath the eye of faith,
how does the aspect of all things change! She had
caught a glimpse of the glory of the Son of God, and
burned with love to Him of whom she could henceforth
say, ‘Whose I am and whom I serve.’ Her
pen, her pencil, her harp, as afterwards her coronet,
were laid at His feet, to be henceforth used, used up
by and for the King.”
.pn 166
Many lovers had sought in vain the hand of Miss
Carolina Oliphant, but on June the 6th, 1806, she
married her maternal cousin William Murray Nairne,
who was Inspector-General of Barracks in Scotland,
and held the rank of major in the army. His hereditary
title was Baron Nairne, but it was one of the titles
attainted by the rebellion.
Her wedded life was one of great happiness. Blest
in the husband of her fondest affection, and encircled
with all the endearing delights of domestic enjoyment,
the union was a delightful one; the husband
and wife lived as joint-heirs of the grace of life; one
in the family, in the social circle, and in the house of
God; singing the same song, joining in the same
prayer, and feasting on the same comforts. The sun
seldom rose on a happier habitation. An only child,
William, was born in 1808.
Mrs. Nairne seems to have judged correctly as to
her true vocation. Shocked with the grossness of
the songs in popular use, she determined to purify the
lyrics of her country; and while doing this she contrived
carefully to conceal the worker. First she sent
some verses to the president of an agricultural dinner
held in the neighbourhood. They were received with
great approbation, and set to music. Thus encouraged,
song followed song,—some humorous, some
pathetic, but all vastly superior in simple poetic
power, as well as moral tone, to those she was anxious
to supplant. Soon her lyrics were scattered broadcast
over the land, carrying pure and elevated sentiments,
and even religious truth, into many a neglected
home. Through the influence of a lady, who knew
her claims as a poetess, she was induced in 1821
.pn 167
to contribute to a collection of national songs,
which was being published by Mr. Robert Purdie, an
enterprising music-seller in Edinburgh. Her contributions
were signed “B. B.” and Mr. Purdie and
his editor, Mr. R. A. Smith, were under the impression
that the popular authoress was Mrs. Bogan,
of Bogan. The songs of “B. B.” were sung in all the
chief towns by professed vocalists, and were everywhere
hailed with applause. Public curiosity was
aroused as to the authorship, and the question was
debated in the newspapers, to the great alarm of the
real authoress.
In 1822, George the Fourth, who had considerable
intellectual ability, and some virtues as well as frailties,
although no man of Mr. Thackeray’s abilities
has set himself to look for the former, visited Scotland,
and heard Mrs. Nairne’s song, “The Attainted
Scottish Nobles” sung: this circumstance is generally
supposed to have led to the restoration of the
peerage to her husband. At all events, in 1824, the
attainder was removed by Act of Parliament, and the
title of his fathers bestowed on Major Nairne.
On July the 9th, 1830, Lady Nairne became a
widow. The trial was ill to bear. But she had one
availing consolation, she knew his star had set on
this world, to rise and shine in brighter skies: vital
Christianity was as visible in her departed husband,
as the broad black seal that death had stamped upon
his brow. He had gone before to the presence of that
Saviour whom they had loved and served together.
Her son, now in his twenty-second year, succeeded
to the title of his father. With that wondrous
solicitude which fills a mother’s heart towards her
.pn 168
only child, Lady Nairne had watched the training
of her boy; and she had a rich reward. He grew up
no mere devotee of mammon, or fashion, or fame,
but a youth of good intellectual powers, high moral
qualities, and sound religious principles—all that a
Christian mother could desire. But alas! this gourd
was doomed to perish also. In the spring of 1837,
the young baron suffered much from influenza, and
for the benefit of his health he went to Brussels,
accompanied by his mother. There he caught a
severe cold, and after an illness of six weeks, died on
the 7th of December, 1837. Her heart bled for her
son, but no murmur escaped her lips. She was content
that Christ should come into her garden and
pluck the sweetest flower. Yet she deeply felt her
loss. “I sometimes say to myself,” she wrote to a
friend, “this is ‘no me,’ so greatly have my feelings
and trains of thought changed since ‘auld lang syne,’
and though I am made to know assuredly that all is
well, I scarcely dare to allow my mind to settle on
the past.”
.nf b
“Hast thou sounded the depth of yonder sea,
And counted the sands that under it be?
Hast thou measured the height of heaven above?—
Then mayest thou mete out a mother’s love.”
.nf-
After this sad event Lady Nairne might have been
seen taking her walk in a cool anteroom, “passing and
repassing the bust of her darling son, and stopping
as often to gaze on it, then replacing the white handkerchief
that covered it to keep it pure.”
In her old age Lady Nairne resided chiefly on
the Continent, and frequently at Paris; but the
.pn 169
last two years of her life were spent at Gask.
Feeble in body and worn in spirit, on the verge of
another world, where praise or censure is nothing,
her interest in the salvation of souls was as fresh as
ever. To the teacher of a school where children
were daily taught, she thus delivered her sentiments
on the great subject of education. “You say they
like ‘The Happy Land’ best: is the gospel in it?
Repeat it.” Her eager eye watched each line till she
should hear what satisfied her. She then said, “It’s
pretty, very sweet; but it might be clearer. Remember,
unless the work of Christ for them as sinners
comes in,—the ransom, the substitution,—what you
teach is worthless for their souls.” On Sunday,
the 26th of October, 1845, in the mansion house
of Gask, she quietly sank to the rest she had so long
looked for, at the advanced age of seventy-nine
years.
Not in the crowded cemetery of the city, where
many of the wise, mighty, and noble have been laid
down to repose; but in the lovely churchyard among
the mountains of her own picturesque county, where
the “rude forefathers of the hamlet lie,” did a weeping
crowd commit the remains of Lady Nairne to the
cold ground. The burial service was read by the
Rev. Sir William Dunbar, Bart.
.sp 2
.ce
EXTRACTS AND CRITICISMS.
One good song is sufficient to secure immortality.
Sappho lives in virtue of a single song. What then
shall we say of Lady Nairne who has bequeathed
more of these imperishable breathings to her country
.pn 170
and to the world than any Caledonian bard, Burns
alone excepted. The lyrics of Scotland were characterized
by a loose ribaldry, she resolved to supply
songs of a higher type. Take the following verses as
a specimen of the good common sense, the cheerful
practical philosophy, which, joined to poetic imagery,
made its way to the hearts of the people.
.nf b
“Saw ye ne’er a lanely lassie,
Thinkin’ gin she were a wife,
The sun of joy wad ne’er gae down,
But warm and cheer her a’ her life.
“Saw ye ne’er a weary wifie,
Thinkin’ gin she were a lass
She wad aye be blithe and cheerie,
Lightly as the day wad pass.
“Wives and lassies, young and aged,
Think na on each ither’s state;
Ilka ane it has its crosses,
Mortal joy was ne’er complete.
“Ilka ane it has its blessings;
Peevish dinna pass them by;
Seek them out like bonnie berries,
Tho’ amang the thorns they lie.”
.nf-
In 1824, “The Scottish Minstrel” was completed
in six volumes, royal octavo, and Mr. Purdie and his
editor, Mr. Smith, still believing “B. B.” to stand
for Mrs. Bogan of Bogan, said, “In particular the
editors would have felt happy in being permitted to
enumerate the many original and beautiful verses
that adorn their pages, for which they are indebted
to the author of the much admired song, ‘The Land
o’ the Leal;’ but they fear to wound a delicacy which
shrinks from all observation.” “The Land o’ the
.pn 171
Leal” well deserved the praise bestowed upon it.
The name alone is a triumph of word-painting. Who
that has heard it sung in a Scotch gloaming to a
group of eager listeners will not confirm our words,
that there is no song, not even of Burns, nor of
Moore, nor of Béranger, nor of Heine, which
approaches on its own ground “The Land o’ the
Leal”? It was written for relatives of Lady
Nairne’s, who had lost a child; its pathos is most
exquisite.
.nf b
“I’m wearin’ awa, John,
Like snaw-wreaths in thaw, John,
I’m wearin’ awa
To the land o’ the leal.
There’s nae sorrow there, John;
There’s neither cauld nor care, John;
The day’s aye fair
In the land o’ the leal.
“Our bonnie bairn’s there, John,
She was baith good and fair, John;
And, oh! we grudged her sair
To the land o’ the leal.
But sorrow’s sel’ wears past, John,
And joy’s a-comin’ fast, John—
The joy that’s aye to last,
In the land o’ the leal.
“Sae dear’s that joy was bought, John,
Sae free the battle fought, John,
That sinfu’ man ne’er brought
To the land o’ the leal.
Oh, dry your glistening e’e, John!
My soul langs to be free, John;
And angels beckon me
To the land o’ the leal.
.pn 172
“Oh, haud ye leal and true, John!
Your day it’s wearin’ through, John;
And I’ll welcome you
To the land o’ the leal.
Now fare-ye-weel, my ain John,
This warld’s cares are vain, John;
We’ll meet, and we’ll be fain,
In the land o’ the leal.”
.nf-
The humorous and highly popular song entitled
“The Laird o’ Cockpen,” was composed by Lady
Nairne, in room of the older words connected with the
air, “When she cam’ ben, she bobbit.” This is a song
which every member of every Scotch audience has
heard crooned or chirped in glee and waggery. It is
matchless alike as respects scene and dramatis personæ,
its fine suggestive touches, and its Scotch wut.
The present Laird of Cockpen is the Earl of Dalhousie,
an elder of the Free Church of Scotland, and
grand-master of the Masonic Lodge of Scotland.
We shall give this song also entire. The different
style illustrates the genius of the authoress.
.nf b
“The Laird o’ Cockpen he’s proud and he’s great,
His mind is ta’en up with the things o’ the state;
He wanted a wife his braw house to keep,
But favour wi’ wooin’ was fashious to seek.
“Down by the dyke-side a lady did dwell,
At his table-head he thought she’d look well;
M’Clish’s ae daughter o’ Claverse-ha’ Lee,
A penniless lass wi’ a lang pedigree.
“His wig was weel pouthered and as gude as new;
His waistcoat was white, his coat it was blue;
He put on a ring, a sword, and cocked hat;
And wha could refuse the laird wi’ a’ that?
.pn 173
“He took the gray mare, and rade cannily,
And rapped at the yett o’ Claverse-ha’ Lee:
‘Gae tell mistress Jean to come speedily ben,
She’s wanted to speak to the Laird o’ Cockpen.’
“Mistress Jean was makin’ the elder-flower wine:
‘And what brings the laird at sic a like time?’
She put aff her apron, and on her silk gown,
Her mutch wi’ red ribbons, and gaed awa down.
“And when she cam’ ben, he bowèd fu’ low,
And what was his errand he soon let her know:
Amazed was the laird when the lady said ‘Na,’
And wi’ a laigh curtsey she turnèd awa’.
“Dumbfoundered he was—nae sigh did he gie;
He mounted his mare—he rade cannily;
And aften he thought, as he gaed through the glen,
She’s daft to refuse the Laird o’ Cockpen.
“And now that the laird his exit had made,
Mistress Jean she reflected on what she had said:
‘Oh! for ane I’ll get better, its waur I’ll get ten!
I was daft to refuse the Laird o’ Cockpen.’
“Next time the laird and the lady were seen,
They were gauin’ arm-in-arm to the kirk on the green;
Now she sits in the ha’ like a weel-tappit hen—
But as yet there’s nae chickens appeared at Cockpen.”
.nf-
Her song, “Caller Herrin,” has acquired extensive
popularity. The late John Wilson, the eminent
vocalist, sung it in every principal town in the kingdom.
In the touching lines “Rest is not here,” she
embodied her own experience. The beautiful piece
entitled “Would you be young again?” was composed
in her seventy-sixth year.
Dr. Rogers has recently done justice to her memory
by the publication of her life and songs. In this
elegant book, a new edition of which has already
.pn 174
been called for, there is an excellent portrait of the
Baroness. The songs in the present volume may be
confidently accepted as being certainly composed by
the gifted authoress.
.sp 2
.ce
CHARACTER OF BARONESS NAIRNE.
In youth, Lady Nairne was distinguished for her
personal charms and her devotion to the pursuits of
the world. So remarkable was the beauty of her face
and the elegance of her shape, that she was called
“The Flower of Strathearn.” In her mature years
her countenance wore a somewhat pensive cast.
She was endowed with gifts many and various.
Possessed of a strong intellect, as well as a beautiful
fancy, all learning was easily acquired. Her delights
lay in the cultivation of an elegant imagination, and
in the enjoyment of those pleasures which can only
be tasted by a mind of a refined order. Capable of
describing the play of human passions in a manner
which awoke the deepest emotions of the heart, her
songs became the theme of every tongue.
To promote both the spiritual and temporal welfare
of her fellow-creatures, she gave largely of her
means. Dr. Chalmers, in an address delivered at
Edinburgh, on the 29th December, 1845, said,—“she
wanted me to enumerate a list of charitable objects,
in proportion to the estimate I had of their value.
Accordingly, I furnished her with a scale of about
five or six charitable objects. The highest in the
scale were those institutions which have for their
design the Christianizing of the people at home; and
I also mentioned to her what we were doing in the
.pn 175
West Port; and there came to me from her in the
course of a day or two no less a sum than £300.
She is now dead; she is now in her grave, and her
works do follow her. When she gave me this noble
benefaction, she laid me under strict injunctions of
secrecy, and, accordingly, I did not mention her name
to any person; but after she was dead, I begged of
her nearest heir that I might be allowed to proclaim
it, because I thought that her example, so worthy to
be followed, might influence others in imitating her,
and I am happy to say that I am now at liberty to
state that it was Lady Nairne, of Perthshire.”
.sp 2
.h3 id=c5s5
SECTION V.—FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS.
“As a female writer, influencing the female mind, she has
undoubtedly stood, for some by-past years, the very first in the
first rank; and this pre-eminence has been acknowledged, not
only in her own land, but wherever the English tongue is spoken,
whether on the banks of the eastern Ganges or the western
Mississippi.”
.rj
David Macbeth Moir. [Δ.]
.sp 2
.ce
LYRIC POETRY.
This species of poetry sets forth the inward occurrences
of the writer’s or speaker’s own mind—concerns
itself with the thoughts and emotions. It is
called lyric, because it was originally accompanied by
the music of that instrument. Purely lyrical pieces
are from their nature short, and fall into several divisions,
which are again subdivided into psalms and
.pn 176
songs. Passion, genius, a teeming brain, a palpitating
heart, and a soul on fire, are necessary to lyrical composition.
The poetry that lives among the people,
must indeed be simple—but the simplest feelings are
the deepest, and when adequately expressed, are immortal.
The song-writer and the psalmist are equally
divine; and the rich and noble melodies which they
send abroad from their resounding lyres, the world
claims as an inheritance. True lyrics themselves
may be weak and wandering, but the children of their
brains are strong and immortal. Empires may pass
away, but the ecstatic ether which they breathe on
the world, shall remain. That sweet psalm, “The
Lord is my Shepherd,” was drawn by David from
the strings of a well-tuned instrument, and it expresses
the feelings of Christians in the nineteenth
century, just as well as it did those of the devout in
the long ages before Christ. The child commits it to
memory, and the dying believer sings it with a heart
empty of care and full of gladness. In “Auld Robin
Gray,” Lady Anne Barnard spoke from her inmost
heart. It instantly became popular, and has come
down to us entire, as if all things had conspired that
such a perfect, tender, and affecting song of humble
life should never perish; but must be sung and wept
over while the earth endureth. The lyric poetry of a
country is characteristic of its manners.
.sp 2
.ce
BIOGRAPHY.
In the year 1786, George Browne, Esq., an eminent
Liverpool merchant, married Miss Wagner, daughter
of the Imperial and Tuscan consul. All the offspring
.pn 177
of this marriage were distinguished by superior
gifts, cultivated talents, and refined taste. Felicia
Dorothea, the fifth child, was born in Duke Street,
on the 25th of September, 1793, and was early found
to be endowed with the two most coveted of earthly
gifts—beauty and genius.
The first six years of her life, were passed in wealth
and ease, but at the close of the century, in consequence
of commercial difficulties, her father broke
up his establishment at Liverpool, and removed to
the sea-coast of Denbighshire, in North Wales, near
the little town of Abergele, and shortly afterwards
emigrated to America, where he died. The education
of Felicia Browne thus devolved exclusively on her
mother; and under her judicious instruction, she
learned with facility the elements of general knowledge—evinced
peculiar aptness for the acquisition of
languages, drawing, and music—and derived information
with extraordinary ease, quickness, and clearness,
from all things visible, audible, and tangible.
The air at Gwrych is salubrious, and the scenery
around beautiful; and often in after-years did the
gifted poetess recall those happy hours spent by the
sea-shore, listening to the cadence of the waves; or
passed in the old house, gazing across the intervening
meadows on a range of magnificent mountains; or
consumed in the vale of Clwyd, searching for
primroses.
Mountains, the sea, and London, have been pronounced
important points in education. Felicia
Browne had long enjoyed the first and the second,
and at the age of eleven completed the mind-enlarging
triad, by paying a visit to the great metropolis. But
.pn 178
despite the attractions of music, the drama, and works
of art, the contrast between the hard pavement,
crowded streets, and social constraint of London, and
the glory, freshness, and freedom of her mountain
home, made her more anxious to get away than ever
she had been to come. Soon after she appeared in
print, and the harsh animadversions of reviewers
probably ignorant of the years of the authoress, so
distressed the sensitive aspirant as to bring on an
illness. In 1809, the family left Gwrych, and went
to reside at Bronwylfa, near St. Asaph, in Flintshire.
Here the work of intellectual development progressed
steadily; and Miss Browne, already mistress of French
and Italian, acquired the Spanish and Portuguese,
with the rudiments of German.
In 1812, she was married to Captain Hemans, of
the 4th foot, lately returned from Spanish service;
and removed to Daventry with her husband, who was
appointed adjutant to the Northamptonshire militia.
The union was not a happy one. Mrs. Hemans had
a splendid imagination, generous and active feelings,
and a fine frank nature, which made her popular
wherever she went. Captain Hemans was a handsome
well-bred soldier, but of a cold methodical
constitution, as destitute of the romantic element as
the branches of trees in winter of all the green, soft
luxury of foliage. There never has been a true
marriage in this world without sympathy between
the husband and the wife. A man of Captain
Hemans’ temper was incapable of making a woman
constituted like Mrs. Hemans permanently happy.
In 1818, after the birth of five children, all sons, a
separation took place, ostensibly because the captain,
.pn 179
whose health was failing, was advised to try the
effect of a warmer climate. He went to Italy, and
she remained in England. They never saw each
other afterwards.
Subsequently to a step which virtually amounted
to a divorce, Mrs. Hemans and her children remained
under her mother’s roof at Bronwylfa till the spring
of 1825, when Mrs. Browne, with her daughter and
grand-children, removed to Rhyllon, a comfortable
house about a quarter of a mile distant, on the
opposite side of the river Clwyd, with Bronwylfa in
full sight. While domiciled at Rhyllon, Miss Jewsbury,
with whom she had previously been in correspondence,
frequently visited her and soothed her
perturbed feelings. Mrs. Hemans took great delight
in the company of Miss Jewsbury, and always expressed
her sense of obligation to her for leading her
more fully into the spirit of Wordsworth’s poetry,
and for making her acquainted with many of his compositions.
One autumn, on his return from exploring
Snowdon, James Montgomery, like a true poet, came
to Rhyllon, to offer honest homage to Mrs. Hemans.
Her pious and excellent mother died on the 11th of
January, 1827, and soon after Mrs. Hemans removed
to Wavertree, near Liverpool. Writing to a friend
concerning the sorrows and conflicts of this period,
she exclaims: “Oh, that I could lift up my heart,
and sustain it at that height where alone the calm
sunshine is!” Yet there were many alleviating circumstances
connected with this migration. She was
returning to the great seaport in which she was born,
whose streets she had occasionally trodden, whose
spires she had often seen, and which the inhabitants
.pn 180
of Denbighshire and Flintshire had taught her to
regard as a North Welsh metropolis. But the
leaving of Wales was a great trial, and greatly
augmented by the affectionate regrets and enthusiastic
blessings of the Welsh peasants, who kissed
the very gate-hinges through which she had passed.
In her first letter from Wavertree to St. Asaph, she
writes: “Oh, that Tuesday morning! I literally
covered my face all the way from Bronwylfa, until
the boys told me we had passed the Clwyd range of
hills. Then something of the bitterness was over.”
For the first time in her life she now took upon herself
the sole responsibility of household management,
became liable to the harassing cares of practical life,
and subject to the formal restraints belonging to a
great commercial town and its suburbs. In exchanging
the ranges of the great hills, for long rows
of houses—the blue seas and fresh breezes, for dirty
wharves and dingy warehouses—familiar and loving
faces, for the rude stare of strangers, and the simper
of affected courtesy—her feelings experienced a series
of shocks; and she held back from the gay world,
and sought social pleasure in the company of a few
chosen friends.
In 1829, having accepted an invitation to visit
Scotland, where her writings had raised up for her a
host of admirers, accompanied by her two elder sons
and her maid, she embarked for the Firth of Forth.
On their arrival in Edinburgh, her name won general
homage, and all kinds of attention were lavished upon
her, by the flower of its literature. Remaining a few
days, with a keen but mournful interest, she wandered
through the antique streets, wynds, and closes of the
.pn 181
romantic capital; examined the castle, whose huge
battlements command a panorama to which there are
few, if any, parallels on earth; visited the Calton
Hill, broken with cliffs, enamelled with golden furze,
feathered with trees, and studded with monuments
for the mighty dead; spent some time at Holyrood
Palace, where the young, brilliant, and beautiful
Mary reigned in queenly splendour; and having
become acquainted with the principal objects of local
interest, proceeded to Roxburghshire. At Abbotsford—that
“romance of stone and mortar,” as it has
been termed—Sir Walter Scott received her and her
boys, and treated them with princely hospitality. On
leaving Abbotsford, she remarks, “I shall not forget
the kindness of Sir Walter’s farewell, so frank, and
simple, and heartfelt, as he said to me, ‘There are
some whom we meet, and should like ever after to
claim as kith and kin; and you are one of those.’”
During this sojourn, she became acquainted with
many eminent persons, and when on the point of
leaving, was persuaded to sit for a bust. The necessary
process having been gone through, she returned
to England.
In 1830, longing again for rural quiet, she visited
the lakes and Mr. Wordsworth. In walking and
riding, in boating on Windermere, in sketching woody
mountains, in conversing with the meditative poet,
and in writing poetry to absent friends, time glided
rapidly away.
At the earnest and repeated solicitations of her
northern friends, she revisited Scotland, and had the
severity of the climate not threatened to be fatal to
her, she would have gladly fixed her future home in
.pn 182
Dunedin. She made a voyage to Dublin, to ascertain
its suitablility as a place of residence. From Dublin she
crossed the channel to Holyhead, and travelled through
the Island of Anglesea, to her old home Bronwylfa.
Her old Welsh neighbours flocked around her, entreating
her to come back and live among them again.
She returned to Wavertree with agitated spirits, and
an exhausted frame.
In 1831, Mrs. Hemans finally quitted Liverpool for
Dublin. After spending several weeks among kind
friends, she passed on to the residence of her second
brother and his wife, and then visited all the remarkable
places around Kilkenny. In the spring and
summer of 1832, when cholera was devastating the
city, her letters express the solemn composure of her
soul, her childlike dependence upon the care of God,
and her unreserved submission to His will. In the
autumn of 1833, the Rev. Mr. and Mrs. Hughes, the
brother-in-law and sister of Mrs. Hemans, whom she
had not seen for five years, came to Dublin. Her
sister saw with pain the worn and altered looks which
time, care, and sickness had wrought. In 1834, referring
to the brightening of heart and soul into the
perfect day of Christian excellence, she remarks;
“When the weary struggle with wrong and injustice
leads to such results, I then feel that the fearful mystery
of life is solved for me.” Reading one evening
in the gardens of the Dublin Society, a chill fog imperceptibly
came on, and she was seized with a violent
fit of shivering. For many weeks she had periodic
attacks of ague. Aware that her time was short, she
sedulously employed her genius and talents for the
glory of God.
.pn 183
On Sunday the 10th of May, 1835, she was able, for
the last time, to read to herself the appointed Collect,
Epistle, and Gospel. During that week a heavy languor
oppressed her, and sometimes her mind wandered,
but always in sunny scenes. On the evening
of Saturday the 16th, at nine o’clock, while asleep,
her happy spirit passed away. Life, and this admirable
woman, had not been long together; she was only
in her forty-second year.
Her remains were interred in St. Anne’s church,
Dawson Street, Dublin; and over her grave were inscribed
eight lines from one of her own dirges:—
.nf b
“Calm on the bosom of thy God,
Fair spirit, rest thee now!
E’en while with us thy footsteps trod,
His seal was on thy brow.
Dust to its narrow house beneath!
Soul to its place on high!
They that have seen thy look in death,
No more may fear to die.”
.nf-
.ti 0
The memorial erected by her nearest relations in the
cathedral of St. Asaph, is very expressive, and records
that—
.nf c
“This Tablet,
Placed here by her Brothers,
IS IN MEMORY OF
FELICIA HEMANS;
Whose Character is best Portrayed
IN HER WRITINGS.
She died in Dublin, May 16, 1835.
Aged 41.”
.nf-
.pn 184
.sp 2
.ce
REVIEW OF HER WORKS.
An eminent living critic has said that Mrs. Hemans’
poetry is silent to all effective utterance of original
truth. We do not adopt that sentiment, but we
believe had her mind been directed in youth to the
works of Lord Bacon and Bishop Butler, or even the
elementary propositions of Euclid, it would probably
have gained both as to intellectual and moral strength.
Her poetical life divides itself into four periods. The
juvenile, the classic, the romantic, and the mature.
Her mind precociously expanded to a keen sense of
the beautiful, and a warm appreciation of nature and
poetry. Some pieces found in her works date their
composition as far back as 1803 and 1804; but it was
not till 1808 that her first volume was ushered into
the world. In 1812, she gave to the press “The
Domestic Affections.” In 1819, appeared “Tales and
Historic Scenes.” In 1823, a tragedy entitled “The
Vespers of Palermo.” In 1826, she published “The
Forest Sanctuary.” In 1828, “Records of Woman.”
In 1830, she brought out “Songs of the Affections.”
In 1834, appeared her little volume of “Hymns for
Childhood,” “National Lyrics and Songs for Music,”
“Scenes and Hymns of Life,” and sonnets, under the
title of “Thoughts during Sickness.”
These are her principal works. She obtained a
prize from a patriotic Scotsman for the best poem on
Sir William Wallace, and a prize was also awarded
her by the Royal Society of Literature for the best
poem on Dartmoor. Like all authors who have written
much, her poetry is of various excellence; but for
pathos, sentiment, and gorgeous richness of language,
.pn 185
we know no lyrics superior to her little pieces. She
was, as Lord Jeffrey well remarked, an admirable
writer of occasional verses. Mrs. Hemans never left
the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland,
but her imagination visited and realized every place
of which she read, or heard, or saw a picture. How
minute, eloquent and exciting, are her descriptions of
“The Better Land.”
.nf b
“‘Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise,
And the date grows ripe under sunny skies?
Or midst the green islands of glittering seas,
Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze,
And strange, bright birds on their starry wings
Bear the rich hues of all glorious things?’
—‘Not there, not there, my child!’
“‘Is it far away, in some region old,
Where the rivers wander o’er sands of gold?—
Where the burning rays of the ruby shine,
And the diamond lights up the secret mine,
And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand?—
Is it there, sweet mother, that better land?’
—‘Not there, not there, my child!’”
.nf-
Mrs. Hemans has the most perfect skill in her
science; nothing can be more polished, glowing, and
harmonious, than her versification. We give an illustration,
“The Voice of Spring.”
.nf b
“I come! I come!—Ye have called me long:
I come o’er the mountains with light and song!
Ye may trace my steps o’er the wakening earth,
By the winds that tell of the violet’s birth,
By the primrose stars in the shadowy grass,
By the green leaves opening as I pass.”
.nf-
There is diffused over all her poetry a yearning
desire to associate the name of England with every
.pn 186
sentiment and feeling of freedom and patriotism.
“The Homes of England” shows that she knew
wherein consisted the glory and strength of kingdoms.
.nf b
“The stately homes of England,
How beautiful they stand
Amidst their tall ancestral trees,
O’er all the pleasant land.
The deer across their greensward bound
Through shade and sunny gleam
And the swan glides past them with the sound
Of some rejoicing stream.”
.nf-
Her “Graves of a Household” illustrates how well
the graphic and pathetic may be made to set off each
other.
.nf b
“They grew in beauty, side by side,
They filled one home with glee;
Their graves are severed, far and wide,
By mount and stream and sea.”
.nf-
With what exquisite tenderness and beautiful imagery
does she express in “The Hour of Death” the
emotions of every heart.
.nf b
“Leaves have their time to fall,
And flowers to wither at the north wind’s breath,
And stars to set—but all,
Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!”
.nf-
Mrs. Hemans’ poetry has four characteristics, viz.,
the ideal, the picturesque, the harmonious, and the
moral. There may be “too many flowers for the
fruit;” yet a large portion of it possesses perennial
vitality.
The best edition extant of the works of Mrs.
Hemans has been published recently by Messrs.
Blackwood. The poems are chronologically arranged,
.pn 187
with illustrative notes and a selection of contemporary
criticisms. Besides an ample table of contents,
there is a general index, and an index of first lines.
.sp 2
.ce
CHARACTER OF MRS. HEMANS.
Her personal appearance was highly attractive.
The writer of her memoir describes her in early
womanhood as radiant with beauty. The mantling
bloom of her cheeks was shaded by a profusion of
natural ringlets of a rich golden brown; and the
ever-varying expression of her brilliant eyes gave a
changeful play to her countenance, which would have
made it impossible for any painter to do justice to it.
She was of middle stature and slight of figure. Her
air was graceful, and her manner fascinating in its
artlessness. From the crown of the head to the sole
of the foot she was touched with elegance.
In dramatic conception, depth of thought, and
variety of fancy, we could name several women who
excelled her; but in the use of language, in the
employment of rich, chaste, and glowing imagery, and
in the perfect music of her versification, she stands
alone and superior. In the words of Miss Jewsbury,
“The genius with which she was gifted, combined
to inspire a passion for the ethereal, the tender, the
imaginative, the heroic,—in one word, the beautiful.
It was in her a faculty Divine, and yet of daily life,
it touched all things; but like a sunbeam, touched
them with a golden finger.”
She was a genuine woman, and therefore imbued
with a Christian spirit. To borrow again from Miss
Jewsbury: “Her strength and her weakness alike
.pn 188
lay in her affections: these would sometimes make
her weep at a word, at others imbue her with courage,
so that she was alternately a falcon-hearted dove, and
a reed shaken with the wind. Her voice was a sad
melody; her spirits reminded me of an old poet’s
description of the orange-tree with its
.nf b
‘Golden lamps hid in a night of green,’
.nf-
.ti 0
or of those Spanish gardens, where the pomegranate
grows beside the cypress. Her gladness was like a
burst of sunlight; and if in her depression she resembled
night, it was night wearing her stars.”
.sp 2
.h3 id=c5s6
SECTION VI.—ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.
“It is characteristic of this century, that women play a more
important part in literature than previously. Not only have
women of genius commanded universal homage, but the distinctive
characteristics of the female nature have been exhibited
with more exquisite analysis and more powerful truth than heretofore.”
.rj
Peter Bayne, A.M.
.sp 2
.ce
EPIC POETRY.
The principal of poetical compositions is the epic,
otherwise called the heroic. It gives an imaginative
narrative of some signal action or series of actions
and events, usually the achievements of some distinguished
character, and intended to form the morals
and affect the mind with the love of virtue. The
longer poems of the epic genus embrace an extensive
.pn 189
series of events, and the actions of numerous personages.
The “Iliad” and the “Odyssey” are the principal
Grecian epics. The “Æneid” is the most distinguished
Roman epic. “Jerusalem Delivered” and
the “Divina Comedia” are the most celebrated
Italian epics. “Paradise Lost” is the greatest
English epic. These are epic poems by way of eminence,
but there are several species of minor poems
which from their nature most also be ranked as epics.
One of these is the “idyl,” a term applied to what
is called pastoral poetry. The ballad is another
species of minor epic. Critics agree that this sort of
poetry is the greatest work human nature is capable
of. But attempts at epic poetry are now rare, the
spirit of the age being against this kind of composition.
It is believed that several of our immortal
epics could not have been written in the nineteenth
century; because the mind would never produce that
of the truth of which it could not persuade itself by
any illusion of the imagination. In the room of epic
poems, we have now novels, which may be considered
as the epics of modern civil and domestic life. We
have, however, minds of both sexes, in our midst,
capable of furnishing us with epics, so far as genius
is concerned.
.sp 2
.ce
BIOGRAPHY.
Elizabeth Barrett was born in London, about the
year 1809. Her father was an opulent country
gentleman, and not a West India merchant as several
biographies represent him to have been. She passed
her girlhood at his country-seat in Herefordshire,
.pn 190
among the lovely scenery of the Malvern Hills. At
least she says:—
.nf b
“Green is the land where my daily
Steps in jocund childhood played;
Dimpled close with hill and valley;
Dappled very close with shade:
Summer snow of apple blossom
Running up from glade to glade.”
.nf-
.ti 0
She seems to have been a very precocious child, and
the culture which she received in her youth was fair,
liberal, and sound. Classics, philosophy, and science
were studied with enthusiasm and success. We welcome
gladly the evidence that society is beginning to
recognise woman’s right to be as highly educated as
her capacity will allow. She is to be man’s companion,
and what can better enable her to be a fit
companion for him, than a due comprehension of
what he comprehends; an appreciation founded upon
knowledge of the difficulties he has mastered, and
power to stand beside him and help him in his intellectual
labours. Without disregarding the fact that
all women do not follow in the footsteps of men, and
therefore do not require the same course of learning,
Elizabeth Barrett participated largely in the education
given to her brothers by a very able tutor, Mr.
Hugh Stuart Boyd, the Grecian.
From a very early age her ear was ever attuned to
catch the deep and mysterious and hope-inspiring
whisperings of nature. At the age of ten she began
writing in prose and in verse, and at fifteen her talent
for literary composition became known to her friends.
She was a most diligent student, and soon became
a contributor to periodical literature, and a series of
.pn 191
articles on the Greek Christian poets not only indicated
how deeply she had entered into the spirit of
these old authors, but proved that she was possessed
both of recondite learning and true poetic genius.
If, as some critics aver, her earlier style resembles
that of Tennyson; this arises, not from imitation,
but from similarity of genius and classical taste.
Proofs of rare reading and deep reflection abound in
Miss Barrett’s first attempt at authorship, published
in 1826: “An Essay on Mind, and other Poems.”
Her next literary enterprise was a version of one of
the greatest and most difficult masterpieces of classical
antiquity; “Prometheus Bound,” which appeared
in 1833; and of which she has since given an improved
translation. In 1838 appeared another volume
of original poetry, “The Seraphim, and other Poems;”
the external peculiarity of which was its endeavour
to embody the ideas and sentiments of a Christian
mystery in the artistic form of a Greek tragedy.
This was followed in 1839, by a third work, “The
Romaunt of the Page.”
Life’s joys are as inconstant as life itself. Temporal
disappointments often distress us, and God’s
providential visitations often cause us to change our
plans.
.nf b
“How fast treads sorrow on the heels of joy.”
.nf-
.ti 0
About this time, a melancholy accident occurred
which for years clouded the life of the poetess, and all
but irretrievably shattered her naturally delicate constitution.
She burst a blood-vessel in the lungs.
Happily, no symptoms of consumption supervened;
but after a twelvemonth’s confinement at home, she
.pn 192
was ordered by her physician to the mild climate of
Devonshire. A house was taken for her at Torquay,
near the foot of the cliffs, close by the sea. She was
rapidly recovering, when one bright summer morning
her brother and two young men, his friends, went
out in a small boat for a trip of a few hours. Just as
they crossed the bar, the vessel swamped, and all on
board perished. Even their lifeless bodies were never
recovered. They were sepulchred in the great ocean,
which has wrapped its garment of green round many
of the fairest and noblest of the sons of men, and
which rolls its continued requiem of sublimity and
sadness over the millions whom it hath entombed.
This sudden and dreadful calamity almost killed Miss
Barrett. During a whole year, she lay in the house
incapable of removal, whilst the sound of the waves
rang in her ears as the moans of the dying. Literature
was her only solace. Her physician pleaded
with her to abandon her studies; and to quiet his
importunities she had an edition of Plato bound so
as to resemble a novel.
When eventually removed to London and her
father’s house in Wimpole Street, it was in an invalid
carriage, and at the slow rate of twenty miles a day.
In a commodious and darkened room, to which only
her own family and a few devoted friends were
admitted, she nursed her remnant of life; reading
meanwhile the best books in almost every language,
and giving herself heart and soul to that poetry of
which she seemed born to be the priestess. The
following beautiful and graphic verses were written
to commemorate the faithful companionship of a
young spaniel (“Flush, my dog”), presented to
.pn 193
her by a friend, in those years of imprisonment and
inaction.
.nf b
“Yet, my little sportive friend,
Little is’t to such an end
That I should praise thy rareness!
Other dogs may be thy peers,
Haply in these drooping ears,
And in this glossy fairness.
“But of thee it shall be said,
This dog watched beside a bed
Day and night unweary;—
Watched within a curtained room,
Where no sunbeam broke the gloom,
Round the sick and weary.
“Roses, gathered for a vase,
In that chamber died apace,
Beam and breeze resigning—
This dog only waited on,
Knowing that when light is gone,
Love remains for shining.
“Other dogs in thymy dew
Tracked the hares, and followed through
Sunny moor or meadow—
This dog only crept and crept
Next a languid cheek that slept,
Sharing in the shadow.
“Other dogs of loyal cheer
Bounded at the whistle clear,
Up the woodside hieing—
This dog only watched in reach
Of a faintly uttered speech,
Or a louder sighing.
“And if one or two quick tears
Dropt upon his glossy ears,
Or a sigh came double,—
.pn 194
Up he sprang in eager haste,
Fawning, fondling, breathing fast,
In a tender trouble.
“And this dog was satisfied
If a pale thin hand would glide
Down his dewlaps sloping—
Which he pushed his nose within,
After—platforming his chin
On the palm left open.”
.nf-
It was during those six or seven years of seclusion
and study that she composed or completed the most
striking of those poems, published in two volumes in
1844, which first brought her into notice as a poetess
of genius. “Poetry,” said the authoress in her preface,
“has been as serious a thing to me as life itself,
and life has been a very serious thing. I never mistook
pleasure for the final cause of poetry, nor leisure
for the hour of the poet. I have done my work, so
far, as work, not as mere hand and head work apart
from the personal being, but as the completest expression
of that being to which I could attain; and as
work I offer it to the public, feeling its shortcomings
more deeply than any of my readers, because measured
from the height of my aspiration, but feeling also that
the reverence and sincerity with which the work
was done should give it some protection with the
reverent and sincere.”
In 1846, she became the wife of a kindred spirit,
Robert Browning, the poet. Never were man and
woman more clearly ordained for each other than
Robert Browning and Elizabeth Barrett. They were
imperfect apart; together they were rounded into
one. With marriage came Mrs. Browning’s welcome
.pn 195
restoration to health and strength. The poet-pair
started for Italy, staying first at Pisa, and then settling
at Florence. In that metropolis of one of the most
wealthy and powerful of the Italian States, she witnessed,
in 1848-49, the struggle made by the Tuscans
for freedom. Mrs. Browning published her collected
works in 1850. In 1851, she issued her important
work, “Casa Guidi Windows,” a semi-political narrative
of actual events and genuine feelings.
Inspirited by what she saw around her, and by a
new tie, an only child, a boy of great intellectual and
musical precocity, the genius of Mrs. Browning had
become practical and energetic. “The future of
Italy,” says our authoress, “shall not be disinherited.”
Then came, in 1856, “Aurora Leigh,” a long and elaborate
poem or novel in blank verse, which our poetess
considered the most mature of her works, into which
her highest convictions upon life and art were entered.
“Poems before Congress” followed in 1860.
After a brief illness, Mrs. Browning died at Florence
on the 29th of June, 1861. When the sad news
reached England, universal regret was expressed for
the loss of the talented lady; the press confessing
with singular unanimity that the world had lost in
her the greatest poetess that had ever appeared.
She was borne to the tomb amidst the lamentations
of Tuscany no less than of her own dear England.
Above the door of a decent little house in Florence is
a small square slab, with an inscription in Italian,
which may be thus translated:—“Here wrote and
died Elizabeth Barrett Browning, who to the heart of
a woman joined the science of a scholar and the spirit
of a teacher, and who made with her golden verse a
.pn 196
nuptial ring between Italy and England. Grateful
Florence places this memorial.”
.sp 2
.ce
PLACE AS A POETESS.
In no languages, save Greek and English, so far as
we remember at present, have poetesses achieved
special fame; and we think all competent judges will
unhesitatingly rank Mrs. Browning as the Queen of
song. But we do not wish to judge her by a less
elevated standard or less rigid rules than those we
apply to the poets generally. “Good for a woman,”
is the sort of praise she would have rejected with
scorn. She entered fairly into the lists against all
the world, and she claims a place among literary
worthies as such. Genius is of no sex. What place
shall we assign her?
It is not necessary for the purposes of criticism that
a scale of genius should be formed, that a list of the
orbs of song should be made out. Shakespeare is the
greatest author of mankind; for generations he has
been hailed as the mightiest of mere men. Mrs.
Browning is not Shakespeare; but we do not talk
amusingly when we claim her as his counterpart.
Milton was endowed with gifts of the soul which
have been imparted to few of our race. His name is
almost identified with sublimity. He is in fact the
sublimest of men. In fitness of conception, terseness
of diction, and loftiness of thought, the following
lines have all that Miltonic genius could impart:—
.nf b
“Raise the majesties
Of thy disconsolate brows, O well-beloved,
And front with level eyelids the To Come,
.pn 197
And all the dark o’ the world. Rise, woman, rise
To thy peculiar and best attitudes
Of doing good and of enduring ill,—
Of comforting for ill, and teaching good,
And reconciling all that ill and good
Unto the patience of a constant hope,—
Rise with thy daughters! If sin came by thee,
And by sin, death,—the ransom righteousness,
The heavenly light, and compensative rest,
Shall come by means of thee. If woe by thee
Had issue to the world, thou shalt go forth
An angel of the woe thou didst achieve,
Found acceptable to the world, instead
Of others of that name, of whose bright steps
Thy deed stripped bare the hills. Be satisfied;
Something thou hast to bear through womanhood,
Peculiar suffering, answering to the sin;—
Some pang paid down for each new human life,
Some weariness in guarding such a life,
Some coldness from the guarded; some mistrust
From those thou hast too well served; from those beloved
Too loyally, some treason; feebleness
Within thy heart, and cruelty without,
And pressures of an alien tyranny
With its dynastic reasons of larger bones
And stronger sinews. But, go to! thy love
Shall chant itself its own beatitudes,
After its own life working. A child’s kiss
Set on thy sighing lips shall make thee glad;
A poor man served by thee shall make thee rich;
A sick man helped by thee shall make thee strong.
Thou shalt be served thyself by every sense
Of service which thou renderest.”
.nf-
In seeking to ascertain the precise position which
Mrs. Browning occupies in relation to other writers,
critics of general common sense will select a class of
favourites who have exerted a mighty sway over the
.pn 198
strongly pulsing heart of common humanity. Some
will place in this list Burns, Moore, and Scott. With
others, Byron, Wordsworth, and Tennyson will figure
as chiefs. Now, in this selection, we venture to
affirm Mrs. Browning has been often enrolled by men
as well as by women; by some high upon the list, by
others, of course, upon a lower level. There are not
many good sonnets in English literature, but in this
most difficult and elaborate form of composition Mrs.
Browning was eminently successful. We could select
half a dozen excellent sonnets from Mrs. Browning
with more ease than from Shakespeare, or Milton, or
any other writer save Wordsworth.
Of her mere literary style we care to say but little,
and still less of her faults. She was essentially a
self-taught and self-sustained artist. Her correspondence
with Mr. John Kenyon, the poet, did not
commence till she was thirty years of age, and consequently
she owed less to his influences than some
of her critics suppose. Her style is strong and clear,
but uneven and abrupt. A sentence or paragraph
often limps a little after the hastening thought, and a
degree of stiffness is sometimes given by a pet word,
coined, or obsolete, or picked up in an old book. It
would be absurd to deny that certain characteristics
of her poetry withhold it from the many and confine
it to the few. The true and eternally grateful notes
are struck without show of art or self-conscious ambition.
Still, following the rule that she ought to be
judged by her best, it must be admitted that she is the
rose, the consummate crown, the rarer and stronger
and more passionate Sappho of our time.
.pn 199
.sp 2
.ce
CHARACTER OF MRS. BROWNING.
It must have been about 1835 that Miss Mitford
first saw Miss Barrett, and to this period the following
portrait in the “Recollections of a Literary Life”
doubtless referred:—“My first acquaintance with
Elizabeth Barrett commenced about fifteen years ago.
She was certainly one of the most interesting persons
I had ever seen. Everybody who then saw her said
the same; so it is not merely the impression of my
partiality or my enthusiasm. Of a slight, delicate
figure, with a shower of dark curls falling on either
side of a most expressive face, large tender eyes
richly fringed by dark eyelashes, a smile like a sunbeam,
and such a look of youthfulness, that I had
some difficulty in persuading a friend, in whose carriage
we went together to Chiswick, that the translatress
of the “Prometheus” of Æschylus, the authoress
of the “Essay on Mind,” was old enough to be introduced
into company; in technical language—was out.”
But although not strikingly fair to look upon, her
nature was so gentle, and her manners so interesting,
that they stood her in the stead of health and beauty.
Mrs. Browning was endowed with the highest
imaginative and intellectual qualities. In her poems
are passages which admit of being compared with
those of the few sovereigns of literature; touches
which only the mightiest give. We admire and
reverence the breadth and versatility of her genius;
no sameness; no one idea; no type character; a
woman of great acuteness and originality—one of
the prime spirits of this century.
Our poetess laid her splendid powers on the altar
.pn 200
of God. Deep chastened affection, and nobleness of
faith glow and sparkle in her life as well as in her
verse, with a rare brilliancy. “She is a Christian,”
to quote the words of a popular writer, “not in the
sense of appreciating, like Carlyle, the loftiness of
the Christian type of character; not in the sense
of adopting, like Goethe, a Christian machinery for
artistic self-worship; nor even in the sense of approaching,
like Wordsworth, an august but abstract
morality; but in the sense of finding, like Cowper,
the whole hope of humanity bound up in Christ, and
taking all the children of her mind to Him, that He
may lay His hand on them and bless them. It is
well that Mrs. Browning is a Christian. It is difficult,
but possible, to bear the reflection that many
great female writers have rejected that gospel which
has done more for woman than any other civilizing
agency; but it is well that the greatest woman of all
looks up in faith and love to that eye which fell on
Mary from the cross.”
.sp 2
.h3 id=c5s7
SECTION VII.—CHARLOTTE NICHOLLS.||[CURRER BELL.]
“I turn from the critical unsympathetic, public,—inclined to
judge harshly because they have only seen superficially and not
thought deeply. I appeal to that larger and more solemn
public, who know how to look with tender humility at faults and
errors; how to admire generously extraordinary genius, and how
to reverence with warm, full hearts, all noble virtue.”
.rj
E. C. Gaskell.
.sp 2
.ce
WORKS OF FICTION.
There are few things more worthy of notice than
.pn 201
those strange mutations of opinion, and returning
circuits of belief, to which the human mind is subject.
The same tastes and habits, the same fashions
and follies, the same delusions and the same doubts,
seem to have their periodical cycles of recurrence.
Theories which have been solemnly buried, suddenly
rear their unexpected heads, and are received with
all the more favour because of the contempt and
derision which followed them to the grave. How
many things are taken for granted which want thinking
about! The wholesale condemnation of works
of fiction is consummate absurdity. When all are
condemned, people are apt to suppose that any may
be read with impunity. Some novelists have sought
for their heroes and heroines among thieves and
desperadoes; flagitiously indifferent alike to fact and
morality, they have laboured with pernicious success
to invest these wretched characters with a halo of
romantic interest and dignity: but if on this account
we give up the principle, then we must give up
poetry, fable, allegory, and all kinds of imaginative
literature. The society of our highest intellects
must be renounced. Fictitious literature has been
condemned on the ground that those novels which
are taken up with a description of the world in its
most vain and frivolous aspects, are the most popular.
This is not true. The works of our modern fictionists
are exceedingly popular; and no one acquainted with
them will dare to say they are open to such a charge.
Not a few object to works of fiction because they
make them discontented with real life. It is true the
Bible teaches us that it is wrong to murmur at the
allotments of Providence; and the Episcopal Church
.pn 202
beautifully prays every day, “Give us always minds
contented with our present condition.” But it is
equally true that the Scriptures teach us to aim at
a higher standard than we have yet attained, and
clergymen inculcate the necessity for progress. We
ought to be dissatisfied with ourselves, and with many
things that we see in others. Let us seek to rise to
the lofty ideal presented in good novels, and if we
do not find that our ascending steps lead us into a
purer atmosphere, and into regions where grow
perennial fruit—then complain.
.sp 2
.ce
BIOGRAPHY.
Charlotte Brontë was born at Thornton, in the
parish of Bradford, on the 21st of April, 1816. Her
father, the Rev. Patrick Brontë, was a native of the
County Down, in Ireland; and her mother, Maria,
was the third daughter of Mr. Thomas Branwell,
Penzance, Cornwall. In 1820, Mr. Brontë removed
to Haworth, a chapelry in the West Riding, and Mrs.
Brontë died the following year. Charlotte in after-years
could but dimly recall the remembrance of her
mother. The servants were impressed with the cleverness
of the little Brontës, and often said they had never
seen such a clever child as Charlotte. Mr. Brontë’s
account of his children is exceedingly interesting:—
“As soon as they could read and write, Charlotte
and her brother and sisters used to invent and act
little plays of their own, in which the Duke of
Wellington, my daughter Charlotte’s hero, was sure
to come off conqueror; when a dispute would not
unfrequently arise amongst them regarding the
.pn 203
comparative merits of him, Buonaparte, Hannibal,
and Cæsar. When the argument got warm, and rose
to its height, as their mother was then dead, I had
sometimes to come in as arbitrator, and settle the
dispute according to the best of my judgment.
Generally, in the management of these concerns, I
frequently thought that I discovered signs of rising
talent, which I had seldom or never before seen in
any of their age.... A circumstance now
occurs to my mind which I may as well mention.
When my children were very young, when, as far
as I can remember, the oldest was about ten years
of age, and the youngest about four, thinking that
they knew more than I had yet discovered, in order
to make them speak with less timidity, I deemed that
if they were put under a sort of cover I might gain
my end; and happening to have a mask in the house,
I told them all to stand and speak boldly from under
cover of the mask. I began with the youngest
(Anne, afterwards Acton Bell), and asked what a
child like her most wanted; she answered, ‘Age and
experience.’ I asked the next (Emily, afterwards
Ellis Bell), what I had best do with her brother
Branwell, who was sometimes a naughty boy; she
answered, ‘Reason with him, and when he won’t
listen to reason, whip him.’ I asked Branwell what
was the best way of knowing the difference between
the intellects of man and woman; he answered, ‘By
considering the difference between them as to their
bodies.’ I then asked Charlotte what was the best
book in the world; she answered, ‘The Bible.’
What was the next best; she answered, ‘The Book
of Nature.’ I then asked the next what was the
.pn 204
best mode of education for a woman; she answered,
‘By laying it out in preparation for a happy eternity.’
I may not have given precisely their words, but I
have nearly done so, as they made a deep and lasting
impression on my memory.”
Soon after Mrs. Brontë’s death, an elder sister
came from Penzance to superintend her brother-in-law’s
household, and look after his six children.
Miss Branwell taught her nieces sewing and the
household arts, in which Charlotte became an adept.
In 1823, a school was established for the daughters
of clergymen, at a place called Cowan Bridge. Mr.
Brontë took Maria and Elizabeth to Cowan Bridge,
in July, 1824; and in September, he brought
Charlotte and Emily to be admitted as pupils. Maria
was untidy, but gentle, and intellectual. Elizabeth
won much upon the esteem of the superintendent of
the school by her exemplary patience. Emily was
distinguished for fortitude. Charlotte was a “bright,
clever, little child.” Maria died in May, and
Elizabeth in June, 1825. Charlotte was thus early
called upon to bear the responsibilities of an elder
sister in a motherless family; both Charlotte and
Emily returned to the school at the close of the
midsummer holidays in this fatal year. But before
the next winter they left that establishment.
In 1831, she was sent to Miss Wooler’s school at
Roe Head, where her remarkable talents were duly
appreciated by her kind instructress, and friendships
were formed with some of her fellow-pupils that
lasted throughout life. One of these early friends
thus graphically describes the impression she made
upon her.
.pn 205
“I first saw her coming out of a covered cart, in
very old-fashioned clothes, and looking very cold
and miserable. She was coming to school at Miss
Wooler’s. When she appeared in the schoolroom,
her dress was changed, but just as old. She
looked a little old woman, so short-sighted that she
always appeared to be seeking something, and moving
her head from side to side to catch a sight of it.
She was very shy and nervous, and spoke with a
strong Irish accent. When a book was given her,
she dropped her head over it till her nose nearly
touched it; and when she was told to hold her head
up, up went the book after it, still closer to her nose,
so that it was not possible to help laughing.”
Towards the end of the year and half that she remained
as a pupil at Roe Head, she received her first
bad mark for an imperfect lesson. Charlotte wept
bitterly, and her school-fellows were indignant. Miss
Wooler withdrew the bad mark.
In 1835, she returned to Miss Wooler’s school as a
teacher, and Emily accompanied her as a scholar.
Charlotte’s life here was very happy. The girls were
hardly strangers to her, some of them being younger
sisters of those who had been her own playmates;
and however trying the duties were she had to perform,
there was always a thoughtful friend watching
over her in the person of good Miss Wooler. But
her life was too sedentary, and she was advised to return
to the parsonage. She did so, and the change
at once proved beneficial.
At Haworth she met the person who made the
first proposal of marriage to her. Miss Brontë respected
the young man very deeply, but as she did
.pn 206
not really love him, she refused to marry him. Soon
after, an Irish clergyman, fresh from Dublin University,
whom she had only met once, sent her a letter,
which proved to be a declaration of love and a proposal
of matrimony. But although she had no hope
of another offer, the witty, lively, and ardent Irishman
was summarily rejected. Restored to health and
strength, instead of remaining at Haworth to be a
burden to her father, and to live on there in idleness
perhaps for years, she determined, if everything else
failed, to turn housemaid. Soon after, she became
engaged as a governess in a family where she was
destined to find an ungenial residence. The children
all loved her, more or less, according to their different
characters. But the mother was proud and pompous,
and Miss Brontë as proud, though not so pompous,
as she. In 1839, she left the family of the wealthy
Yorkshire manufacturer; and in 1841, found her
second and last situation as a governess. This time
she became a member of a kind-hearted and friendly
household. But her salary, after deducting the expense
of washing, amounted to only £16; moreover,
the career of a governess was to Miss Brontë a perpetual
attempt to force her faculties into a direction
for which her previous life had unfitted them. So at
Christmas she left this situation.
Several attempts to open a school at the parsonage
having proved futile, with the view of better qualifying
themselves for the task of teaching, Miss
Brontë and her sister Emily went to Brussels in
1842, and took up their abode in Madame Héger’s
pensionnat. Towards the close of the year, word
came from England that her aunt, Miss Branwell,
.pn 207
was very ill. Before they got home, the funeral was
over, and Mr. Brontë and Anne were sitting together
in quiet grief for one who had done her part well
in the household for nearly twenty years. About the
end of January, 1843, Miss Brontë returned to
Brussels alone for another six months.
In returning to England, in 1844, Miss Brontë
determined to commence a school, and to facilitate
her success in this plan, M. Héger, gave her a kind
of diploma, sealed with the Athenée Royal, of which
he was a professor. But no pupils made their appearance,
and consequently the sisters abandoned the
idea of school-keeping, and turned their thoughts
to literature. Their volume of poems was published
in 1846; their names being veiled under those of
Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell, but it met with little
or no attention. It is possible that the names of
Emily and Anne may not survive the present generation;
but certainly Charlotte’s writings have placed
her in the highest rank of lady novelists.
The winter of 1848 was a dark one at Haworth.
Her only brother, and the sister she so intensely
loved, and whose genius she ever delighted to exalt
above her own, died within a few weeks of each
other. Miss Brontë was prostrate with fever; and
Anne, always delicate, grew rapidly worse. The two
went together to Scarborough the following spring.
There the younger sister died, and the elder was left
alone with her aged father in that dreary deserted
home among the graves. In June, 1850, she visited
London, saw her old hero the Duke of Wellington,
at the Chapel Royal, had an interview with Lewes,
and dined with Thackeray. The same summer she
.pn 208
went on to Edinburgh to join the friends with whom
she had been staying in town. In a letter to a correspondent,
she says: “Do not think that I blaspheme,
when I tell you that your great London, as compared
to Dunedin, ‘mine own romantic town,’ is as prose
compared to poetry; or as a great rumbling, 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 three following years pass over. One of the
deepest interests of her life centres round the 29th
of June, 1854. On that day many old and humble
friends saw her come out of Haworth church, leaning
on the arm of “one of the best gentlemen in the
county,” and looking “like a snowdrop.” We almost
smile as we think of the merciless derider of weak
and insipid suitors finding a lord and a master—of
the hand which drew the three solemn ecclesiastics,
Malone, Donne, and Sweeting, locked at the altar in
that of her father’s curate, and learning from experience,—
.nf b
“That marriage, rightly understood,
Gives to the tender and the good
A paradise below.”
.nf-
.ti 0
Mr. Nicholls loved Miss Brontë as his own soul, and
she loved him, and every day her love grew stronger.
In the last letter she ever wrote, we find the following
sentence: “No kinder, better husband than mine,
.pn 209
it seems to me, there can be in the world.” Home
joys are only dependent, in a small degree, on external
circumstances.
Nine months followed of calm happiness—months
of respite and rest. During the next winter she was
confined to a sick bed, from which she never rose.
The doctor assured her that all would soon be
right. Martha tenderly waited on her mistress, and
from time to time had tried to cheer her with the
thoughts of the baby that was coming. But she
died on the 31st March, 1855, in the thirty-ninth
year of her age, after a long and weary illness,
bravely as she had lived, and left her widowed husband
and childless father sitting desolate and alone
in the old grey parsonage.
One member out of most of the families of the
parish was bidden to the funeral, and those who were
excluded from the formal train of mourners thronged
the church and churchyard. Two mourners deserve
special notice. The one was a village girl that had
been betrayed, seduced, and cast away. In Mrs.
Nicholls she had found a holy sister, who ministered
to her needs in her time of trial. Bitter was the
grief of this young woman, and sincere her mourning.
The other was a blind girl living some four
miles from Haworth, who loved the deceased so
dearly that she implored those about her to lead her
along the roads, and over the moors, that she might
listen to the solemn words, “Earth to earth, ashes to
ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of
the resurrection to eternal life, through our Lord
Jesus Christ.”
.pn 210
.sp 2
.ce
MERITS AS A NOVELIST.
In the real distinguished from the ideal school
of fiction, Mrs. Nicholls, known to the literary world
as Currer Bell, attained immediate and lasting popularity.
We purpose to notice a few of her leading
characteristics, and to define briefly but articulately,
the worth of her teaching. An eminent and genial
critic justly remarks: “Currer Bell professed to be
no idle entertainer. She did not, indeed, tag on
a moral to the end of her book—else it had been
little worth; or even blazon it on its surface. But
she professed to write truly, to show living men and
women meeting the exigencies, grappling with the
problems, of real existence; to point out how the
battle goes, in the circles of English middle life,
between pretension and reality, between falsehood
and truth. If we were content to listen to her as a
historian, she relinquished with a smile the laurel of
the romancer.” Her plots possess the merit of rare
interest; her characters, however eccentric, stand
out as unmistakable realities. True, the plot in the
“Professor,” her first prose work, which met with
so many refusals, and was not published till after
her death, is of no great interest. Although she
has never surpassed two or three portraits there
sketched, it will not bear comparison with her other
works.
The style of Currer Bell is one which will reward
study for its own sake. Its tone may be somewhat
too uniform, its balance and cadence too unvaried.
Perhaps, also, there is too much of the abruptness of
passion. It is certainly inferior to many styles, so
far as the crimson and gold of literature are concerned.
.pn 211
But there is no writer with whom we are
acquainted, more deserving of praise for clearness,
pointedness, and force. Would that any word of
ours could recall the numerous admirers of morbid
magnificence and barbarous dissonance, affected jargon
and fantastic verbiage, laboured antithesis and
false brilliance, and induce them to read night and
day the novels of Currer Bell, for the sake of their
style. In “Jane Eyre,” her most powerful work,
published in October, 1847, it must be admitted
that female delicacy is somewhat outraged; but its
specimens of picturesque, resolute, straightforward
writing, enable this tale to take a high place in the
field of romantic literature.
Currer Bell’s love of nature was remarkable. A
Yorkshire moor is for the most part wild and grotesque,
but her eye brims with a “purple light,”
intense enough to perpetuate the brief flower-flush
of August on the heather, or the rare sunset smile
of June. We might quote in illustration of these
remarks, pictures of nature, so detailed, definite, and
fresh, that they give us an assurance as of eyesight.
Take the following bit of woodland painting from
“Shirley,” published in October, 1849: “I know all
the pleasantest spots: I know where we could get
nuts in nutting time; I know where wild strawberries
abound; I know certain lonely, quite untrodden
glades, carpeted with strange mosses, some yellow as
if gilded, some sober grey, some gem green. I know
groups of trees that ravish the eye with their perfect
picture-like effects: rude oak, delicate birch, glossy
beech, clustered in contrast; and ash trees stately
as Saul, standing isolated, and superannuated wood
.pn 212
giants clad in bright shrouds of ivy.” Many similar,
and even superior passages might be cited from this
brilliant novel.
Works of fiction belong to the province of imagination;
and this faculty was largely developed in Currer
Bell, and has spread the unmistakable splendour of
its embellishment over her pages. There are passages
in her works, not only distinct from their general texture,
but from anything we know in English literature.
The personification of nature in “Shirley” is
perhaps the finest. “I saw—I now see—a woman
Titan; her robe of blue air spreads to the outskirts
of the heath, where yonder flock is grazing, a veil,
white as an avalanche, sweeps from her head to
her feet, and arabesques of lightning flame on its
borders. Under her breast I see her zone, purple like
the horizon; through its blush shines the star of
evening. The steady eyes I cannot picture. They
are clear, they are deep as lakes, they are lifted and
full of worship, they tremble with the softness of
love and the lustre of prayer. Her forehead has the
expanse of a cloud, and is paler than the early moon,
risen long before dark gathers; she reclines her
bosom on the ridge of Stillbro’ Moor, her mighty
hands are joined beneath it, so kneeling, face to
face she speaks with God.” Apostrophic bursts are
common enough in all our more imaginative prose
writers; but the chiselling of the entire figure from
the flameless marble, and the leaving it for ever
in the loveliness of its beauty, is peculiar to the prose
of Currer Bell.
In the delineation of one absorbing and tyrannizing
passion, Currer Bell, is altogether sui generis.
.pn 213
With a bold and steady hand she depicts passion in
all its stages; we may weep and tremble, but her
nerves do not quiver, neither do her eyes film. “Villette,”
commenced in the autumn of 1850, and brought
to a conclusion in November, 1851, is a tale of the
affections. A burning heart glows throughout its
pages, and so true to nature is the delineation, that it
is impossible to doubt that living hearts have actually
throbbed with like passion. The eloquence and graphic
description which mark the closing scenes of
this tale, the authoress has not equalled elsewhere.
There is much that is stirring and healthful in
the works of Currer Bell. The idea of Johnson was
that marriages might well enough be arranged by
the chancellor! But although the Christian world
very generally seems to be of the same opinion, she
taught the sacredness of the natural affections in the
formation of the marriage relationship—the absolute
necessity of love. Poltroonery, pretentious feebleness,
and cowardly falsehood, are crowned with the diadem
of scorn; and all the stalwart virtues are signally
honoured.
.sp 2
.ce
CHARACTER OF MRS. NICHOLLS.
The following personal description is from her
Life by Mrs. Gaskell. “In 1831, she was a quiet,
thoughtful girl, of nearly fifteen years of age, very
small in figure—‘stunted’ was the word she applied
to herself; but as her limbs and head were in just
proportion to the slight, fragile body, no word in
ever so slight a degree suggestive of deformity could
properly be applied to her; with soft, thick, brown
.pn 214
hair, and peculiar eyes, of which I find it difficult to
give a description as they appeared to me in later
life. They were large and well shaped; their colour
a reddish brown; but if the iris were closely examined,
it appeared to be composed of a great variety of
tints. The usual expression was of quiet, listening
intelligence; but now and then, on some just occasion
for vivid interest or wholesome indignation, a light
would shine out, as if some spiritual lamp had been
kindled, which glowed behind those expressive orbs.
I never saw the like in any other human creature.
As for the rest of her features, they were plain, large,
and ill set; but, unless you began to catalogue them,
you were hardly aware of the fact; for the eyes and
power of the countenance overbalanced every physical
defect; the crooked mouth and the large nose were
forgotten, and the whole face arrested the attention
and presently attracted all those whom she herself
would have cared to attract. Her hands and feet
were the smallest I ever saw; when one of the former
was placed in mine, it was like the soft touch of a
bird in the middle of my palm. The delicate long
fingers had a peculiar fineness of sensation, which
was one reason why all her handiwork, of whatever
kind—writing, sewing, knitting—was so clear in its
minuteness. She was remarkably neat in her whole
personal attire; but she was dainty as to the fit of her
shoes and gloves.”
There are different classes of great minds. Some
are great in collecting, others in creating. The
former is talent, the latter is genius. Some have the
power of absorbing what they see and hear in the
external world: they “gather honey all the day from
.pn 215
every opening flower;” but they add no new thoughts.
Others are characterized by originality of thought;
they investigate new subjects, form new worlds, and
spin new creations out of their own minds. Currer
Bell belonged to this class. Some are capable of
receiving much knowledge, but are unable to turn it
to any purpose; they have read the standard authors,
and have plenty of facts, but they know not how to
use them. Currer Bell could form a system, she
knew how to write a book.
Through the whole of her life she had a sacred
regard for the rules of morality. One of her school-fellows
informs us that she could get on with those who
had bumps at the top of their heads. An intelligent
old man living at Haworth, said to her biographer:—“Charlotte
would sit and inquire about our circumstances
so kindly and feelingly!... Though I
am a poor working man (which I never felt to be
any degradation), I could talk with her with the
utmost freedom. I always felt quite at home with
her. Though I never had any school education, I
never felt the want of it in her company.”
.pn 216
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch06
CHAPTER VI.||Scientific Women.
.sp 2
.h3 id=c6s1
SECTION I.—CAROLINE LUCRETIA HERSCHEL.
“Prior to her demise, hope had long become certainty, and
prophecy passed into truth; and assemblies of the learned,
through means of just though unusual tributes to herself, had
recognised the immortality of the name she bore!”
.rj
J. P. Nichol, LL.D.
.sp 2
.ce
ASTRONOMY.
In most other sciences, the mind is so often lost in
details, that it is difficult to stand where you may
gaze freely out upon the unknown. In astronomy,
however, you are brought almost at once to stand
face to face with the Infinite. A wonderful study are
these old heavens. They have excited the curiosity,
and called forth the discoveries of both male and
female students. What an immensity of sublime
magnificence God has crowded into a few yards
of sky. There is truth in the well-known lines:—
.nf b
“When science from creation’s face
Enchantment’s veil withdraws,
What lovely visions yield their place
To cold material laws.”
.nf-
.ti 0
But if science has torn from the heavens the false
.pn 217
lustre of fiction, it has supplied the clear light of
fact. From points, the stars have magnified into
worlds, and from thousands they have multiplied into
millions.
.nf b
“Come forth, O man, yon azure round survey,
And view those lamps that yield eternal day;
Bring forth your glasses; clear thy wondering eyes,
Millions beyond the former millions rise;
Look farther—millions more blaze from remoter skies.”
.nf-
.ti 0
Sir William Herschel assuming that the instrument
which he used could enable him to penetrate 497
times farther than Sirius, reckoned 116,000 stars to
pass in a quarter of an hour, over the field of view,
which subtended an angle of only 15′. If from such
a narrow zone we compute, the whole celestial vault
must display, within the range of telescopic vision,
the stupendous number of more than five billions of
stars. If each of these be the sun to a system similar
to ours, and if the same number of planets revolve
round it, then the whole planets in the universe will
be more than fifty-five billions, not reckoning the
satellites, which may be even more numerous. That
part of the science which gives a description of the
motions, figures, periods of revolution, and other
phenomena of the celestial bodies, is called descriptive
astronomy; that part which determines the motions,
figures, periodical revolutions, distances, etc., of these
orbs, is called practical astronomy; and that part
which explains the causes of their motions, and demonstrates
the laws by which those causes operate,
is termed physical astronomy.
.pn 218
.sp 2
.ce
BIOGRAPHY.
On the 16th of March, 1750, Caroline Lucretia
Herschel was born. Her birthplace was Hanover.
She was the fourth daughter of Isaac Herschel, and
Ann Ilse Moritzen, his wife. Her parents had also
six sons. The childhood of this distinguished woman
is to us a blank. Till her twenty-second year, she
lived in her native place; and her father and mother
seem to have been anxious about her education, but
their means were limited; and moreover, Hanover,
during the latter end of the last century, did not
possess the facilities for the acquirement of literature,
science, and art, that it does now. Since 1837, when
it became a royal residence, many changes have taken
place, and numerous improvements continue to be
made. We may therefore consistently affirm, that
among the female examples of the pursuit of knowledge
under difficulties, few deserve a higher place
than Miss Herschel.
In 1772, she came to England to live with her
brother William, who had been appointed organist to
the Octagon chapel, at Bath. When he changed his
profession for astronomical labours, she became his
helpmate. “From the first commencement of his
astronomical pursuits,” says an authority, who writes
from intimate knowledge, “her attendance on both
his daily labours and nightly watches was put in requisition,
and was found so useful, that on his removal
to Datchet, and subsequently to Slough, she performed
the whole of the arduous and important duties
of his astronomical assistant—not only reading the
clock and noting down all the observations from dictation
.pn 219
as an amanuensis, but subsequently executing
the whole of the extensive and laborious numerical
calculations necessary to render them available for
the purposes of science, as well as a multitude of
others relative to the various objects of theoretical
and experimental inquiry in which, during a long
and active career, he was at any time engaged.” For
these important services, His Majesty King George
III. was graciously pleased to place her in receipt
of a salary sufficient for her singularly moderate
wants and retired habits.
Her brother was knighted by George III., and
made a D.C.L. by the University of Oxford. During
the whole of his distinguished career, Miss Herschel
remained by his side, aiding him and modestly
sharing the reflection of his fame.
After Sir William’s death in 1822, Miss Herschel
returned to Hanover, which she never afterwards left;
passing the last twenty-six years of her life in repose,
enjoying the society and cherished by the regard of
her remaining relatives and friends, and gratified by
the occasional visits of eminent astronomers. The
Astronomical Society of London, very much to its
honour, voted her a gold medal for her reduction
of the nebulæ discovered by her renowned brother.
She was afterwards chosen an honorary member of
that Society, and also a member of the Royal Irish
Academy: very unusual honours to be conferred upon
a woman. Is it not matter both for wonder and for
lamentation, that the guardians of learning, the patrons
of literature, and the princes of science, have been
so indifferent to the intellectual claims of the female
sex? Surely sages and philosophers should not be the
.pn 220
last to rescue woman from the neglect of ignorance
and the contempt of frivolity; to lift her up to her
proper elevation in the sight of the world; and enhance
their own dignity by associating her with themselves.
There can be no doubt but that the universities
would have conferred their most honourable
diplomas upon Miss Herschel, had she not been a
woman.
In her last days, she was not idle. She had known
the pleasures of science, and been thrilled as she heard
her illustrious brother detail the steps by which he
had made his discoveries,—had actually stood by the
great philosopher as he fixed his delighted and reverent
eye on the stupendous wonders of the firmament so
thickly and Divinely studded with worlds, and seen
him lay the deep and broad foundations of his imperishable
fame; and had been stimulated to seek
like noble rewards, by a diligent and irreproachable
use of her own fine natural talents. As a woman of
intellectual height and strength, and with a field of
inexhaustible material over which to expatiate, she
laboured with corresponding success; laid open the
secrets of nature, and explained her deeper mysteries;
enlarged the domain of knowledge; awakened the
spirit of inquiry; breathed fresh life into philosophy,
and gave to the world the promise of ever-accumulating
truth. Her favourite study we hesitate not to
place first. No science “so perfectly illustrates the
gradual growth and development of human genius,
as Astronomy: the movement of the mind has been
constantly onward; its highest energies have ever
been called into requisition; and there never has been
a time when Astronomy did not present problems,
.pn 221
not only equal to all that man could do, but passing
beyond the limits of his greatest intellectual vigour;
and hence in all ages and countries, the absolute
strength of human genius may be measured by its
reach to unfold the mysteries of the stars.”
On the 16th of March, 1847, the press announced
that Miss Herschel had celebrated the ninety-seventh
anniversary of her birthday. A letter from Hanover
informs us that the king on that occasion, “sent to
compliment her; the prince and princess royal paid
her a visit, and the latter presented her with a magnificent
arm-chair, the back of which had been embroidered
by her royal highness; and the minister of
Prussia, in the name of his sovereign, remitted to her
the gold medal awarded for the extension of the
sciences.” The labours of Miss Herschel had shed a
glory over her country, and the trump of fame now
gave her name to the world as a woman of unrivalled
attainments. Governments are slow to learn; and
certainly they are not the first to appreciate the fruits
of genius. The liberal expenditure of the national
means for the advancement of science, would shed
real glory over every country and every age; and it
therefore reflects infinite honour on these German
sovereigns, that they took her under their immediate
and special patronage. There are truths yet to be
searched out and declared, which shall equal, it
may be surpass, the most stupendous announcements
which have yet been made. Surely “such truths
are things quite as worthy of struggles and sacrifices
as many of the objects for which nations contend and
exhaust their physical and moral energies and resources:
they are gems of real and durable glory
.pn 222
in the diadems of princes; conquests which, while
they leave no tears behind them, continue for ever
inalienable.”
Soon after the event referred to, her distinguished
nephew, Sir John F. W. Herschel, wrote a letter to
the Athenæum, in which he stated that notwithstanding
her advanced age and bodily infirmities, Miss Herschel
was still in the possession of all her faculties.
But although she was not called to die when she
had just begun to live, nor to quit her investigations
for ever when she had just begun to learn how to
study; the hour of her departure was at hand. Gold
cannot bribe death. Human power and grandeur
cannot save from the grave. Genius cannot elude
the king of terrors. The rich and the poor, the
learned and the unlearned, the wise and the foolish,
meet together here:—
.nf b
“Their golden cordials cannot ease
Their painèd hearts or aching heads;
Nor fright nor bribe approaching death
From glittering roofs and downy beds.
The lingering, the unwilling soul,
The dismal summons must obey;
And bid a long, a sad farewell,
To the pale lump of lifeless clay.
Hence they are huddled to the grave,
Where kings and slaves have equal thrones;
Their bones without distinction lie
Amongst the heap of meaner bones.”
.nf-
.ti 0
Miss Herschel died on the 9th of January, 1848, in
the ninety-eighth year of her age. Her end was
tranquil and free from suffering—a simple cessation
of life.
.pn 223
It seems to be a law of human nature that however
long we may have been abroad, and however comfortable
our foreign residence may have been, we are yet
drawn by old affection to our native country, there to
spend the evening of our life. Graciously has Providence
implanted within us this desire of returning
to the place of our childhood; that being thereby made
to feel how valueless this world is in itself, and to
yearn after those dear ones who have gone before us,
our own preparation for going hence may be advanced.
Such, doubtless, were the feelings of Miss Herschel
when returning to her native Hanover after many
years of activity spent in various other places. Her
funeral took place on the 18th of January; the
coffin was adorned with palm branches, by order of
the Princess Royal, and followed by a royal carriage.
A long and useful life had been beautifully closed;
and her body was committed to the earth, in the sure
and certain hope that her soul was in heaven.
Soundly she slumbers in a German tomb: and although
the place that once knew her knows her no
more, she is not forgotten, but her memory is sweet
and fragrant still.
.sp 2
.ce
ASTRONOMICAL DISCOVERIES.
Though sitting up all night, especially in winter,
doing all the duties of an assistant astronomer to her
brother, she found time for a series of independent
observations with a small Newtonian telescope, made
for her by Sir William. With this instrument
she swept the heavens, and discovered eight new
comets, in regard to five of which she was the first
.pn 224
discoverer. These discoveries were made on August
1st, 1786; December 21st, 1788; January 9th, 1790;
April 17th, 1790; December 15th, 1791; October 7th,
1793; November 7th, 1795; and August 6th, 1797.
The following account of a new comet was addressed
to Charles Blagden, Esq., M.D., F.R.S., and read
before the Royal Society, November the 9th, 1786.
“Sir,—In consequence of the friendship which I
know to exist between you and my brother, I venture
to trouble you in his absence with the following imperfect
account of a comet.
“The employment of writing down my observations,
when my brother uses the 20 feet reflector, does not
often allow me time to look at the heavens; but as he
is now on a visit to Germany, I have taken the opportunity
to sweep, in his absence, in the neighbourhood of
the sun, in search of comets. And last night, the 1st
of August, about ten o’clock, I found an object resembling
in colour and brightness the twenty-seventh
nebula of the Connoissance des Temps, with the difference,
however, of being round. I suspect it to be a
comet; but a haziness coming on, it was not possible
entirely to satisfy myself as to its motion till this
evening. I made several drawings of the stars in the
field of view with it, and have inclosed a copy of them,
with my observations annexed, that you may compare
them together.
“August 1, 1786, 9h. 50′. The object in the centre
is like a star out of focus, while the rest are perfectly
distinct, and I suspect it to be a comet. Tab. 1.,
fig. 1.
“10h. 33′, fig. 2. The suspected comet makes now a
perfect isosceles triangle with the two stars, A and B.
.pn 225
“11h. 8′. I think the situation of the comet is
now as in fig. 3; but it is so hazy that I cannot sufficiently
see the small star to be assured of the motion.
“By the naked eye the comet is between the 54th
and 53rd Ursæ Majoris, and the 14th, 15th, and 16th
Comæ Berenices, and makes an obtuse triangle
with them, the vertex of which is turned towards the
south.
“August 2, 10h. 9′. The comet is now, with
respect to the stars A and B, situated as in fig. 4.
Therefore the motion since last night is evident.
“10h. 30′. Another considerable star, C, may be
taken into the field with it, by placing A in the centre;
when the comet and the other star will both appear
in the circumference, as in fig. 5.
“These observations were made with a Newtonian
sweeper of 27 inches focal length, and power of about
20. The field of view is 2° 12′. I cannot find the stars
A and C in any catalogue, but I suppose they may
easily be traced in the heavens; whence the situation
of the comet, as it was last night at 10h. 33′, may be
pretty nearly ascertained.
“You will do me the favour of communicating these
observations to my brother’s astronomical friends.
.nf r
“I have the honour to be, etc.,
“Caroline Herschel.
.nf-
“Slough, near Windsor, August 2, 1786.”
.sp 1
Many also of the nebulæ contained in Sir W.
Herschel’s catalogues were detected by her. Indeed
the unconquerable industry of the sister challenges
our admiration quite as much as the intellectual power
of the brother.
.pn 226
.sp 2
.ce
WORKS ON ASTRONOMY.
We shall not attempt fully to discuss Miss Herschel’s
astronomical works. Indeed her labours are so intimately
connected with, and are generally so dependent
upon, those of her illustrious brother, that an investigation
of the latter is absolutely necessary before we
can form the most remote idea of the extent of the
former. In 1798 she completed “A catalogue of 561
Stars from Flamsteed’s Observations,” contained in the
“Historia Cælestis,” but which had escaped the notice
of those who framed the “British Catalogue.” For this
valuable work which was published, together with a
general index of reference to every observation of
every star inserted in the “British Catalogue,” at the
expense of the Royal Society, in one volume, her
brother wrote an introduction. To the utility of these
volumes in subsequent researches, Mr. Baily, in the
life of Flamsteed, bears ample testimony.
She moreover finished, in 1828, the reduction and
arrangement of 2500 nebulæ to the 1st of January,
1800, presenting in one view the results of all Sir
William Herschel’s observations on those bodies; and
thus bringing to a close half a century spent in
astronomical labour, probably unparalleled either in
magnitude or importance. But to deliver an eulogy
upon her memory is not our purpose. Suffice it to
say that her name will live even when the time comes
that the astronomical celebrity of a woman will not
by the mere circumstance of sex excite the slightest
remark.
.pn 227
.sp 2
.ce
CHARACTER OF MISS HERSCHEL.
The physical constitution of Miss Herschel was good.
At Slough her exertions seem to have been overpowering.
Instead of passing the night in repose, she
was constantly with her illustrious brother, participating
in his toils, braving with him the inclemency of
the weather, and co-operating towards his triumphs.
According to the best of authorities she took down
notes of the observations as they fell from his lips;
conveyed the rough manuscripts to her cottage at the
dawn of day; and produced a fair copy of the night’s
work on the subsequent morning. One would have
said that such toils would have shortened her life, but
she lived to be very old, and till within a short period
of her death, her health continued uninterrupted.
Her intellect was of a supreme order. The physico-perceptive
faculties were immensely developed, and
these, combined with a strong and active temperament,
delight and excel in natural science, see and survey
nature in all her operations, and confer a talent for
acquiring scientific knowledge. Causality was amply
developed in Miss Herschel, and her talents form an
excellent sample of the cast of mind it imparts. She
will be remembered as long as astronomical records
of the last and present century are preserved.
The moral feelings were strong in Miss Herschel.
She disapproved of all violence, irreverence, and injustice.
None knew better than she that love is the
just debt due to every human being, and the discipline
which God has ordained to prepare us for heaven.
Hence she was civil and obliging, free from jealousy,
dissimulation, and envy. In a word, she possessed a
noble disposition.
.pn 228
.sp 2
.h3 id=c6s2
SECTION II.—JANE ANN TAYLOR [JANET TAYLOR].
“We believe that she was as gentle and simple in herself, as
she was deeply versed in the abstruse science which she professed.
Perhaps some surviving relative or friend may be able to throw
light on the life and labours of one who was as extraordinary
from her acquirements of knowledge as from her social reticence.”
.rj
Y.L.Y., in The Athenæum.
.sp 2
.ce
NAVIGATION.
It is remarkable that women have, in a great number
of instances, been distinguished by merits the
most opposite to their imaginary and conventional
character. The first use of ships as distinguished
from boats appears to have been by the early Egyptians,
who are believed to have reached the western
coast of India, besides navigating the Mediterranean.
But whatever may have been their prowess upon the
waves, they were soon eclipsed by the citizens of
Tyre, who, to compensate for the unproductiveness of
their small territory, laid the sea under tribute, and
made their city the great emporium of Eastern and
European trade. The Greek states gradually developed
the art of navigation, and at the time of the
Peloponnesian war, the Athenians seem to have been
skilful conductors of vessels at sea. Rome next
manifested maritime daring. Time rolled on and the
Saxon, Jutish, and Norse prows began to roam the
ocean in every direction. The Norsemen extended
their voyages to Iceland, Greenland, and Newfoundland.
The sea had no terrors for these hardy rovers.
The introduction of the mariner’s compass made the
.pn 229
sailor independent of sun and stars; and the discovery
of the variation of the compass rendered navigation
more secure. The two first treatises on systematic
navigation appeared in Spain, one by Pedro de
Medina, the other by Martin Cortes. These were
speedily translated into French, Dutch, English, etc.,
and for many years served as the text-books of practical
navigation. It would be tedious to enumerate the
successive improvements in the science of navigation;
suffice it to say, that for its present high perfection, it
is under some obligation to female intellect.
.sp 2
.ce
BIOGRAPHY.
Jane Ann Jonn, was born on the 13th of May,
1804, at Wolsingham, a market town and parish in
the county of Durham, and about thirteen miles from
that ancient and celebrated city. She was the fourth
daughter of the Rev. Peter Jonn and Jane Deighton,
his wife. Her father was curate of Wolsingham, and
head master of the grammar school.
When about ten years of age, she got an appointment
to Queen Charlotte’s school, at Ampthill, in
Bedfordshire, a small town pleasantly situated, partly
upon, and partly between two gentle acclivities, forty
miles from London. The establishment being very
select, and the other girls much older, she became a
great favourite with them, and learned much from
them. When the very plain, but rigidly virtuous
queen, died at Kew, on the 17th of November, 1818,
Miss Jonn, was sent by her father to a boarding-school
conducted by Mr. and Mrs. Stables, at Hendon,
near the village of Hampstead, Middlesex. Here she
.pn 230
assisted in teaching, as well as received lessons from
various masters; and whilst a certain amount of
seclusion was secured by a suburban residence, London
was close at hand: the working London with its
inspiring life.
However well this boarding-school was carried on,
we have no reason to believe that it made Miss Jonn
a learned woman. Female education then, and sometimes
even now, is simply a little outside polish. It
does not teach to think; it does not develope mind;
it does not confer power; it does not form character;
it does not do anything to mould girls into the noblest
types of womanhood.
After leaving the quiet retreat at Hendon, she was
many years a governess in the family of the Rev. Mr.
Huntly, of Kimbolton, in Huntingdonshire. This
employment no doubt has recommendations, it certainly
has serious drawbacks; among those that are
inevitable is the effect of a lonely life on the governess.
A great effort may be made to treat her as one of the
family, but she does not really belong to it; and must
spend the greater part of her time with young and
immature minds, only varied by unequal association
with the parents or grown-up brothers and sisters of
her pupils. The society of her equals in age and
position is entirely wanting, and the natural tendency
of such mental solitude is to produce childishness,
angularity, and narrow-mindedness. It must be a strong
character indeed which can do without such wholesome
trituration and the expansive influence of equal
companionship, and this is just what a governess
cannot have. She is moreover, always a bird of
passage, and in this respect her position is worse than
.pn 231
that of a domestic servant, who, besides being better
remunerated and having the companionship of fellow-servants,
may look forward to remaining in one
family for life.
About the year 1829, Miss Jonn left Kimbolton
and went to London to keep the house of one of her
brothers. Soon after she went on a visit to a sister
at Antwerp. Without attempting to detail her impressions
concerning the numerous churches, convents,
magnificent public buildings, elaborate and extensive
fortifications, and stately antique-looking houses which
line the older thoroughfares of that exceedingly picturesque
city; we may say that during that journey
Mr. George Taylor met her, and on the 1st of Feb.,
1830, they were married at the British Ambassador’s
chapel, at the Hague. On their return to London,
Mrs. Taylor commenced teaching navigation, at 104,
Minories. In consequence of her singular abilities in
that branch of science, she gained the confidence
and approval of the Board of Admiralty and the
Trinity Brethren, as well as several foreign powers.
Her husband meanwhile, was a manager for Sir
Henry Meux, the well-known brewer, which situation
he held till his death in 1859. Instead of being a
burden to her five sons and one daughter, by means
of her establishment in the Minories she more than
provided for her own wants.
The English nation may be slow in perceiving
merit, but when perceived, none appreciate it more
highly. There is not an honour which we have to
bestow, which is not designed to be awarded to those
who have proved their title to it by steady worth.
Mrs. Taylor began life with no wealth and with no
.pn 232
patronage from powerful friends. She was dependent
on her own efforts. When she enlarged her
acquaintance beyond the limits of her girlhood and
youth, she did not encounter a cold and unfriendly
world, or find that those who had not before known
her were disposed to impede her progress, or to throw
embarrassments in her path. She came to London
with but little experience, and with no such reputation
as to make success certain. But by a diligent
and irreproachable use of fine natural talents, she constructed
her own greatness, and manufactured her
own fortune. It is a good thing that even a woman
may find many fields of usefulness, before which there
is not the tiniest wicket-gate; and we rejoice to know
that many women pursue in peace those paths to
glory and gain that are already open to them.
Mrs. Taylor had the honour of being presented
to King William and Queen Adelaide, whose amiable
disposition and habitual beneficence made her a great
favourite with the British nation. She had also the
offer of a situation as reader to our present queen.
But as the salary was small, and the attendance on
her majesty was likely to interfere with her family
and scientific arrangements, it was declined. In this
decision, Edward Maltby, D.D., then Bishop of Durham
concurred, and at the first meeting of the British
Association held in Newcastle-on-Tyne, in 1838, made
honourable mention of her. At the world’s great
assembly in 1851, she exhibited an ingeniously contrived
little instrument—a quadrant and sextant—which
the queen graciously accepted for the Prince
of Wales. Mrs. Taylor received a medal from the
King of the Netherlands, also in 1860 a very complimentary
.pn 233
letter from the present pope, Pius IX., with
a medal.
On the accession of Queen Victoria, £1200 was
intrusted to her Majesty for the payment of pensions
to persons who have just claims on the royal beneficence,
or who, by their personal services to the
crown, by the performance of duties to the public, or
by their useful discoveries in science, and attainments
in literature and the arts, have merited the gracious
consideration of their sovereign and the gratitude of
their country. In consequence of her valuable services
in the fields of science, Mrs. Taylor’s name was
added to the civil list, and in 1862, she disposed of
her business at 104, Minories, and retired to Camberwell
Grove, on a pension of £50 per annum. Those
who desolate nations, stay the progress of arts, manufactures,
knowledge, civilization, benevolence, and religion;
and sweep myriads of their fellow-creatures,
unprepared, into eternity, we load with titles and
treasures; and those who by their self-denying devotedness
to the investigation of truth, have conferred
benefits upon mankind, and thus deserved imperishable
monuments, we reward with a pension of £50!
Though life with Mrs. Taylor was real and earnest,
it was still in the review like a dream, and she was
brought somewhat suddenly to the point where things
seen lose all their importance, and things unseen become
the only realities. She spent the evening of
life—an evening worthy of the day, and beaming with
the mild radiance that gave promise of a glorious
morning of immortality—in visiting her relatives and
friends. On the 15th of January, 1870, she went to
Bishop-Aukland, a small town in the middle of her
.pn 234
native county of Durham, pleasantly situated on an
eminence, nearly 140 feet above the level of the
plain; to spend a few days with her brother-in-law,
the Rev. T. Chester, at the vicarage of St.
Helen’s. The following week she was seized with
bronchitis, and gradually sank until she died on
Wednesday morning, January the 26th, in the sixty-sixth
year of her age.
The death of Mrs. Taylor excited a degree of sympathy
throughout the north of England, in London,
and indeed in many other parts of the kingdom, that
indicated how high and general was the esteem in
which she was held. The funeral took place on the
Saturday. A select body of relatives and friends
assembled at the vicarage, St. Helen’s. As they
approached the vault of her brother-in-law, the company
bared their heads, while the body was committed
to the ground, in the beautiful language of
the English ritual; and then bade reluctantly a long
adieu to one of the most distinguished of women.
.nf b
“For who to dumb forgetfulness a prey
This pleasing anxious being e’er resigned?
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind?”
.nf-
.sp 2
.ce
PUBLICATIONS ON NAVIGATION.
The question cui bono? to what practical end and
advantage do your researches tend? is one which
the truly scientific mind can seldom hear without a
sense of humiliation. There is a lofty and disinterested
pleasure in such pursuits which ought to
.pn 235
exempt them from such questioning. Endowed with
great capacity and relish for intellectual pursuits,
Mrs. Taylor never made such an inquiry.
In 1846, her first work—“Directions for using the
Planisphere of the Stars, with Illustrative, and Explanatory
Problems”—appeared, accompanied by “A
Planisphere of the Fixed Stars.” The Morning Post
said, “Though this work only professes to guide the
learner to the positions of the fixed stars, it is calculated
to impart a good deal of knowledge of astronomy,
in a very simple and intelligible manner, and in a
very short time.” A second edition was published
in 1847. “Diurnal Register for Barometer, Sympresometer,
Thermometer and Hygrometer; with a
few brief Remarks on the Instruments,” was issued
about this time, and dedicated by permission to Col.
Sir William Reid, K.C.B., F.R.S., governor of Malta;
a name that must ever be revered by those whose
“path is in the sea,” and whose associations and
wanderings lead them to cross the bosom of the
mighty waters. This volume enables mariners and
others to mark the exact derivation and variation of the
barometer, etc., at any hour, by a single dot, and contains
a brief description of the different instruments,
and the principles on which they are constructed. It
was characterised by the Athenæum, as “A useful
work with excellent directions,” and reached seven
editions, or more. In 1851, the ninth edition of “An
Epitome of Navigation and Nautical Astronomy, with
improved Lunar Tables,” was presented to the world.
This work is dedicated with heartfelt gratitude to
the Hon. the Elder Brethren of the Corporation of
Trinity House, London. In this book the tables
.pn 236
familiar to the mariner are presented in a very much
improved shape; and the rules by which the young
sailor is directed in the attainment of that knowledge,
which is indispensable to success in his future career,
are clearly laid down, and under each rule examples
are given. The organs of the day expressed their
opinions in terms of the highest eulogy. The Liverpool
Mail said, “Mrs. Taylor indeed merits high
praise, and we add national gratitude; she has removed
the chief difficulties which obscured the science
of navigation. We have no hesitation in saying, that
here is the most complete treatise on navigation which
has ever been published.” In 1854, the seventh
edition of “Lunar and Horary Tables: with the
shortest method of finding the Longitude and the
Time,” appeared. This work was highly recommended
by gentlemen well qualified to test its merits,
and who could not be affected by mere partialities.
It gives a very simple, easy, and accurate method of
working the lunar problem. These learned and
laudable volumes were deposited in the library of the
Vatican, in 1860.
The above are not all the writings of Mrs. Taylor,
but they are amply sufficient to prove that she was a
mathematician of the first class. Her logarithmic
tables are correct and complete in no ordinary degree.
Such rare knowledge she did not gain from merely
attending lectures on the various subjects which her
own taste led her to cultivate, or which fell within
her reach. Neither did she furnish her mind by the
mere reading of books. In both ways, or in either,
it is true, much information may be acquired; but
still it may be knowledge only imposed upon the
.pn 237
mind, not received within it. Knowledge, to be useful,
must be attained by young and old, through an
exercise of the reasoning power which very quickly
leads to a conviction that the learner is treading upon
firm ground. Between a woman who tests and tries
every opinion and principle subjected to her notice,
and one who does not, there are no points of comparison;
the one may adopt false sentiments, but the
other cannot be said to have any sentiments at all,
only a collection of prejudices and predilections in
their place.
.sp 2
.ce
NAUTICAL AND MATHEMATICAL ACADEMY.
In comparing the achievements of the sexes, we must
not forget that the mind which has most dazzled or
benefited the nations has received its first instructions
from a mother’s, and probably its last from a wife’s
lips. “Though the sinewy sex achieves enterprises
on public theatres, it is the nerve and sensibility of
the other that arm the mind and inflame the soul in
secret. Everywhere man executes the performance,
but woman trains the man.” Mrs. Taylor exercised
not only the influence of a wife and a mother, but also
that of a very efficient professional teacher of male
pupils. The conduct of a large academy for sailors may
seem to many an unsuitable employment for a woman;
likely to injure, and to a great extent destroy her
beautiful nature. But it is certain that Mrs. Taylor’s
mind lost none of its refinement by the rude associations
with which it was brought into contact, while
her great administrative power enabled her to manage
the establishment in an admirable manner. There is
.pn 238
a certain chivalry amongst the most uncultivated men,
when they know that they cannot be compelled to do
a thing by force, which will often make them yield.
We have known a class of unruly lads in a ragged
school, utterly unamenable to the discipline of a man,
yield implicit obedience to a young woman, as a bad-tempered
horse is sometimes most easily guided by a
female hand that is both skilful and light.
Mrs. Taylor’s Nautical and Mathematical Academy,
was under the patronage of the Admiralty, Trinity
House, East India House, and Kings of Holland and
Prussia. The upper schoolrooms were under the
direction of a highly qualified master, and devoted to
the preparation of masters and mates in the navy and
merchant service; and the lower schoolrooms were
superintended by a mathematical master, and every
care was taken that the junior pupils should be progressively
fitted for the highest grade of examinations.
She also undertook to place those pupils who had no relations
in town, under the care and superintendence of
families, where they received every domestic comfort
and attention, when not engaged in the academy.
Terms, to be paid on entrance. A complete course of
navigation, including trigonometry, and its application
to navigation, £6 6s.; a general course of navigation,
£4 4s.; algebra, £2 2s.; geometry, £2 2s.; a course
of algebra and geometry, £3 3s.; a practical course
of astronomy, specially in relation to navigation,
£2 2s.; physical geography, etc., £2 2s.; mechanics,
etc., £2 2s. Also a general course, including the
whole of the above, on moderate terms. Nor was this
all. Lectures illustrative of these subjects were
delivered in the upper schoolroom to those studying
.pn 239
in the academy, each of whom was at liberty to introduce
a friend.
.sp 2
.ce
CHARACTER OF MRS. TAYLOR.
The fall, in a physiological sense, whatever may be
said of the theological dogma so termed, is no myth.
The general lack of vigour, especially in the female
sex, might be quoted in evidence of its truth. Miss
Catherine E. Beecher, in her “Letters to the People,”
says: “I am not able to recall, in my immense circle of
friends and acquaintances all over the Union, so many
as ten married ladies, born in this century and in this
country, who are perfectly sound, healthy, and vigorous.”
Mrs. Taylor was rather tall, somewhat slender,
and a little defective in muscular development. For
many years she was subject to a disease of very common
occurrence in Great Britain. Her head was
large, and in perfect harmony with all its component
parts. The brow broad, smooth, and high, gave the
face a pyriform appearance, which diminished gradually
as it descended, till it terminated in the delicate
outline of the chin.
Intellect was the constitutional guide of her entire
being. An active temperament and strong and evenly-balanced
mental powers enabled her to awaken the
minds of her pupils, and to write what was worth
perusal and re-perusal. She spent much time and
money and care on science. Her quick perceptive
faculties ranged the heavens, explored the earth, and
fathomed the sea, in search of facts, which her prominent
reflective powers enabled her to explain and
apply, so as to accomplish innumerable ends otherwise
.pn 240
unattainable. A more quiet and singular union of
rare powers in a woman, than hers, does not occur
to us.
Mrs. Taylor had not only a well-cultivated head,
but what was better, a healthy, affectionate, and loving
heart. She had a lively moral sense for perceiving
right and wrong. Perhaps the greatest of her moral
attributes was charity. Enjoying only a moderate competence,
and obliged to make a decent appearance in
life, she nevertheless gave large sums to those from
whom lover and friend were put far away, whose harp
was turned into mourning, and their organ into the
voice of them that weep.
.pn 241
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch07
CHAPTER VII.||Holy Women.
.sp 2
.h3 id=c7s1
SECTION I.—SELINA, COUNTESS OF HUNTINGDON.
“She stands, indeed, so connected with almost all which was
good in the last century, that the character of the age, so far as
religion is concerned, was in some measure her own. It is not
insinuated that she alone impressed that character on the Church,
but that she entirely sympathised with it, and was not a whit
behind the foremost in affection for souls and zeal for God, in
spirituality of mind and fervour of devotion, in contrivance and
energy for the extension of the gospel, in a large and disinterested
soul.”
.rj
J. K. Foster.
.sp 2
.ce
RELIGION NOT A THING OF SEX.
Christianity breathes a spirit of the most diffusive
charity and goodwill; and wherever its power is felt,
it moulds the character into the image of benevolence.
The great principles of the religion of Jesus secure
to woman, as an unquestionable right, that elevation
and high position in society, which His conduct and
that of His followers conferred. Immorality trembles,
domestic tyranny retires abashed, before the majesty
of religion, and peace pervades that dwelling where
power was law and woman a slave. The gospel belongs
to neither sex, but to both. It wears no party
badge, but as by a zone of love, elastic enough to be
.pn 242
stretched round the globe, seeks to bind the whole
race together. The most effectual method of degrading
woman is to barbarize man, and the surest means
of dignifying her is to Christianize him. A council
in the fifth century, we believe, discussed the question
whether woman was included in the redemption;
but it is now only, we think, among the Jews of Tunis
that any such belief is maintained. Happily, too, we
are past the time when good old Coverdale, the celebrated
translator of the Bible, could write with some
kind of real or affected surprise, “He maketh even
women to be declarers of His resurrection!” It is
now a matter of extreme surprise that the half of the
human race should at any time, in civilized lands,
have had their share in Christ’s atonement for the
world disputed.
.sp 2
.ce
BIOGRAPHY.
Lady Selina Shirley, the second daughter of Washington
Shirley, was born at Stanton Harold, long the
seat of the Shirley family, on the 24th August, 1707.
The mansion was situated in a fine park of one
hundred and fifty acres, well wooded, and diversified
by hill and dale. It stood near the ancient town of
Ashby-de-la-Zouch. The grounds were laid out with
great taste, and a spacious lake of ornamental water
reflected a handsome stone bridge, which was thrown
across it. She inherited the talents and benevolent
disposition of her father, and from a very early age
sought Divine direction in all that she did. When
only nine years old, she saw a corpse about her own
age carried to its last resting place. She followed it
.pn 243
to the grave, and with many tears cried earnestly to
God on the spot, that whenever He should be pleased
to take her away, He would deliver her from all fears,
and give her a happy departure. She often afterwards
visited the grave, and always preserved a lively sense
of the affecting scene.
She received an education which successfully drew
out the talents of her mind, the disposition of her
heart, and the graceful deportment of her manners.
Her acquirements were much beyond the ordinary
standard of the age in which she lived. When she
grew up, and was introduced into the world, and made
her appearance at court, she manifested no inclination
to follow the example of her companions in the
gaieties of fashionable life. The habitual realization
of Divine things preserved her amid scenes of great
danger.
Lady Selina Shirley often prayed that she might
marry into a serious family, and on June 3rd, 1728,
she was united in matrimony to Theophilus, the ninth
Earl of Huntingdon. None kept up more the ancient
dignity and heraldic glory than the house of Huntingdon;
but the strict decorum and outward propriety
which she observed were far more grateful to her
than riches or renown. Mary Queen of Scots was
for some time confided to the keeping of the Earl of
Huntingdon; and King James the First and his
consort were often visitors at the famous castle of
Ashby. Lady Huntingdon maintained, in this high
estate, a peculiar seriousness of conduct. Though
sometimes at court, she took no pleasure in the
fashionable follies of the great. At Donnington Park
she was known as the Lady Bountiful by her neighbours
.pn 244
and dependants. Often might she have been
seen standing over the sick and dying, administering
to their temporal wants, and reading the Scriptures
to them.
Her heart was now truly engaged to God, so she laid
her coronet at the Redeemer’s feet, and resolved, according
to her ability, to lay herself out to do good. In
1738, when John and Charles Wesley preached in the
neighbourhood of Donnington Park, she sent a kind
message to them, acknowledging that she was one at
heart with them, bidding them good speed in the
name of the Lord, and assuring them of her determination
to live for Him who had died for her. The
oratory of the Methodists was fervid and powerful;
and the spiritual fire which glowed within, animated
their discourses, and attracted many to the standard
of the cross. The number of ordained ministers was
insufficient to meet the demands for their services.
But a new agency was now springing up: holy and
gifted laymen began to preach, and their labours were
crowned with greater success than those of the most
illustrious men sent from colleges and universities.
It should never be forgotten that we owe all the
blessings which the world has received from lay
preachers chiefly to the good sense and spiritual
discernment of Lady Huntingdon.
In the summer of 1743, the Earl and Countess of
Huntingdon, with the Ladies Hastings, visited Yorkshire,
where the work of the Lord was making great
progress. Soon after her return she was called upon
to endure severe domestic trials. Two of her beloved
sons died within a short period of each other, one aged
thirteen, and the other aged ten years. In April,
.pn 245
1746, Lady Huntingdon was attacked by a serious
illness; but by the skill of her medical attendants,
and the blessing of God, she was restored to health
and strength. Scarcely had she recovered from the
loss of her children, and her own illness, before she
was bereaved of her husband, Lord Huntingdon, who
died at his house in Downing Street, Westminster,
October 13th, 1746. But these and subsequent personal
and family afflictions only awakened her mind
toward religious concernments, and caused her to be
more energetic in the diffusion of Christian principles.
Lord Huntingdon left his widow in uncontrolled command
of an income amply sufficient for maintaining
her position, with her surviving children, in the style
which befitted her rank; but confining her expenditure
within narrow limits, she regarded her fortune
as a trust which it was her happiness to administer
in furtherance of the highest purposes.
Lady Huntingdon now became the open and avowed
patroness of all the zealous ministers of Christ, especially
of those who were suffering for the testimony
of Jesus. In the spring of 1758 she threw open her
house in London for the preaching of the gospel.
Many of the distinguished nobility attended the
services; among whom were the Duchess of Bedford,
Grafton, Hamilton, and Richmond; Lords
Weymouth, Tavistock, Trafford, Northampton, Lyttleton,
Dacre, and Hertford; Ladies Dacre, Jane Scott,
Anne Cronnolly, Elizabeth Kepple, Coventry, Hertford,
Northumberland, etc., etc. She was far in
advance of her times in catholicity of spirit and
liberality of sentiment, and frequently stimulated the
great leaders of Methodism to extend their operations,
.pn 246
when they were inclined to restrict them to certain
modes of action. She loved all who loved the Lord
Jesus Christ, and formed an acquaintance with many
pious and distinguished Dissenters.
Hitherto, her Ladyship had confined her exertions
to England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales; but in
1772, in consequence of becoming proprietrix of possessions
in the province of Georgia, she organized a
mission to North America. On the 27th of October,
the missionaries embarked, and after a passage of
only six weeks, reached the place of their destination,
without having experienced one day of real bad
weather. Their labours were crowned with singular
success.
Her labours increased with her years. She saw
the spiritual darkness which was overclouding the
people; was thoroughly acquainted with the character
of the agency already in existence, and knew how
insufficient it was to reach the mass of the people.
But instead of being honoured for endeavouring to
bring the sound of the gospel within the hearing of
the people, her labours were denounced as irregular,
and her name was blackened with reproach. Towards
the close of 1781, her mind was greatly distressed by
unpleasant differences which sprang up in her congregation
at Reading. Still it was evident that God was
blessing her labours, that the fields were white unto
the harvest. The Countess, therefore, determined to
appoint four of her most distinguished clergymen
to itinerate through England, and blow the gospel
trumpet. Many were converted to the Lord, and
small congregations were gathered, which grew into
important churches.
.pn 247
It had always been the earnest desire of Lady
Huntingdon that neither she nor her Connection
should sever the tie that bound them to the Church of
England. But in consequence of processes instituted
in the Ecclesiastical Courts, and the law laid down
on the subject, no alternative was left them. Accordingly,
in 1783, they reluctantly assumed the position
of Dissenters, at the same time retaining the liturgy
with some modifications, the forms and even the
vestments of the Church of England, without its
Episcopacy. A confession of faith was drawn up, and
a declaration was set forth, that “some things in the
liturgy, and many things in the discipline and government
of the Established Church, being contrary to
Holy Scripture, they have felt it necessary to secede.”
Hitherto the great burden of conducting the affairs of
her Connection had mainly devolved upon the Countess
herself; but now feeling the infirmities of age,
she bequeathed by her will, dated January 11th,
1790, all her churches and residences to trustees.
Her family confirmed this disposition of her property,
and the trustees strictly carried out the intentions of
the testatrix.
Now, almost at the close of her long and arduous
course, the venerable Countess truly experienced the
blessedness of those who die in the Lord, and whose
works do follow them. Sometimes she appeared to
catch a glimpse of the celestial mansions, and then
her weather-beaten features were lighted up with a
heavenly glory. The bursting of a blood-vessel was
the commencement of her last illness. She manifested
the greatest patience and resignation, and said to
Lady Ann Erskine, “All the little ruffles and difficulties
.pn 248
which surrounded me, and all the pains I am
exercised with in this poor body, through mercy affect
not the settled peace and joy of my soul.” On the
12th of June, 1791, a change passed over the Countess
which afforded apprehensions of approaching death.
A little before she died, she frequently said, “I shall
go to my Father to-night;” and musingly repeated,
“Can He forget to be gracious? Is there any end of
His loving-kindness?” Her physician visited her, and
shortly after her strength failed, and she appeared to
sink into a sleep. A friend took her hand, it was cold
and clammy; he felt her pulse, it was ceasing to beat;
and as he leaned over her, she breathed her last and
fell asleep in Jesus. She died at her house in Spa
Fields, June 17th, 1791, in the eighty-fourth year of
her age.
The news of her decease plunged the Christian world
into grief and sadness. She was interred in the family
vault at Ashby-de-la-Zouch. Her principal places of
worship were hung in black; and not only her own
ministers, but many in the Establishment and among
the nonconformists, preached a funeral sermon to
testify to her worth. Many tears were shed at the
mention of her name; a medal was struck off as a
memento of her death; and her well-known features
were embalmed in the hearts of her people.
.sp 2
.ce
CONVERSION.
According to some, only the scum and offscourings
of society need to be born again. We believe that
the purest, gentlest, loveliest, must undergo this
change before they enter the kingdom of God. It is
.pn 249
a radical reform, great in its character and lasting in
its consequences. Lady Huntingdon’s outward conduct
was always blameless, and she had moreover
a zeal of God, yet for many years she was an utter
stranger to the spiritual nature of the gospel of Christ.
She saw not the depravity of the human heart; she
knew nothing of salvation by faith in Jesus Christ,
and of the regenerating power of the Holy Spirit.
She entertained high opinions respecting the dignity
of human nature; and aspired to reach, by her own
works, the lofty standard she had placed before
her. Liberal in her sentiments, prudent in her conduct,
courteous in her deportment, and profuse in her
charities, she surpassed her equals by birth, and the
multitudes around her. But the Countess was far
from enjoying the happiness which she anticipated
would result from her endeavours to recommend herself
to the favour of Heaven. Her sister-in-law Lady
Margaret Hastings had been awakened to see the
value of religious truth, and often conversed with her
respecting the concerns of her soul. Her experience
formed a contrast to the state of Lady Huntingdon’s
mind. A severe illness soon laid the Countess low,
and brought her to the confines of the grave. She
looked back to her past life, but the piety, virtue, and
morality in which she had trusted, appeared to be
tainted with sin. The report of the earnest preaching
of certain clergymen, who were called Methodists,
reached Donnington Park; the truth impressed some
members of the Hastings family; and through them
Lady Huntingdon was directed to the truth as it is
in Jesus, and obtained lasting peace. The change in
her heart exerted a beneficial influence on her body;
.pn 250
her disorder took a favourable turn; she was restored
to perfect health; and she solemnly dedicated herself
to God as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to
the Lord.
.sp 2
.ce
THE HIGHER CHRISTIAN LIFE.
Full salvation through full trust in Jesus is at once
the provision and the demand of the gospel, and is, of
course, the privilege and duty of all. But the truth
that the Lord Jesus is the righteousness of the believer,
in the sense of sanctification as well as in the
sense of justification, many are slow to perceive. Yet
Scripture and the lives of the great and good abundantly
prove, that in both senses Christ is complete
to the believer, and in both, the believer is complete
in Christ. The Countess of Huntingdon is a true
and noble type of the real, whole-souled Christian.
Religion took a strong hold upon her inner nature,
and her apprehension of Christ in His fulness was so
clear, that she was filled with heavenly consolations.
The language of her heart, as well as of her lips, was
beautifully expressed by her friend Dr. Watts:—
.nf b
“Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all!”
.nf-
.ti 0
The fashionable circle in which she moved was astonished;
and unable to comprehend the spiritual
darkness through which she had passed, and the
spiritual light she now enjoyed, ridiculed her as a
fanatic. Some nobles even wished Lord Huntingdon
to interpose his authority; but he refused to interfere
.pn 251
with her religious opinions. Dr. Southey, unblushingly
asserted that the religious feelings of Lady
Huntingdon originated in a decided insanity in her
family; and adds that all the arguments of Bishop
Benson failed in bringing her to a more rational sense
of devotion. “Such a statement,” remarks her
latest biographer, “would not have deserved notice,
were it not that the talents and reputation of the poet
laureate might be regarded by many as a guarantee
for its validity.” When the rupture took place between
the Prince of Wales and his father, George II.,
and the Prince set up his own court at Kew, Lady
Huntingdon attended it occasionally; but her frequent
absence was noticed, and provoked sarcasm.
One day the Prince of Wales inquired of Lady
Charlotte Edwin where Lady Huntingdon was that
she so seldom visited the circle. Lady Charlotte replied
with a sneer, “I suppose praying with her
beggars.” The Prince shook his head, and, turning
to her Ladyship, said, “Lady Charlotte, when I am
dying, I think I shall be happy to seize the skirt of
Lady Huntingdon’s mantle, to lift me up with her to
heaven.”
.sp 2
.ce
HER CHAPLAINS.
The religious sentiments and the glowing eloquence
of the most remarkable evangelist of modern times
soon attracted the attention of the Countess of Huntingdon,
and, in 1748, she made George Whitefield
one of her chaplains. She then, and for many years
afterwards, thought that, as a peeress of the realm,
she had a right to employ the clergymen of the Church
whom she had appointed as her chaplains in openly
.pn 252
proclaiming the everlasting gospel. Whitefield often
preached in the drawing-rooms of the Countess to
large numbers of the most highly distinguished
nobility. Gifted by nature in an unusual degree as a
public speaker, her chaplain, despite the vilest aspersions,
spoke as one who had received a commission
from on high to proclaim the unsearchable riches of
Christ; and this mission he fulfilled with unabated
ardour and success for nearly forty years. In the
New World as well as the Old, Whitefield had his
trophies, and was listened to with great delight by
the princes of intellect and the beggars in understanding.
If souls would hear the gospel only under a
ceiled roof, he preached it there. If only in a church
or a field, he proclaimed it there. In temples made
with hands, the parliament of letters, of fashion, of
theology, of statesmanship,—such men as Hume,
Walpole, Johnson, Goldsmith, Reynolds, Garrick,
Warburton, and Chesterfield, acknowledged the power
of the preacher. On Moorfields, Kennington Common,
and Blackheath, vast crowds were powerfully
impressed, and cried out for salvation. He preached at
Kingswood, and the miners came out of their coal-pits
in swarms—thousands on thousands flocked from Bristol,
till about twenty or thirty thousand persons were
present. The singing could be heard for two miles off,
and the clear, rich, and powerful voice of Whitefield
could be distinctly heard for about a mile. This is
his own world; he loves, he says, to “mount his field
throne.” These colliers are as ignorant of religion as
the inhabitants of negro-land—as hardened as the
islanders of Madagascar—without feeling or education,
profligate, abandoned, ferocious. He addresses
.pn 253
them, and what is the result? Tears flow from eyes
which perhaps never shed them before. Those white
streaks which contrast so strongly with the dark
ground on which they are interlined, tell of the
emotion that is going on within. This celebrated
preacher, in his letters speaks of Lady Huntingdon
in very flattering terms. He says, “She shines
brighter and brighter every day, and will yet I trust
be spared for a nursing mother to our Israel.”
A few years afterwards, the Countess took under
her protection William Romaine, by appointing him
one of her chaplains. He had for a long time occupied
an important position in London, where he published
several popular treatises, and a great number
of separate discourses. But the preaching of the
gospel was his enthusiastic work, and the Calvinistic
aspects of truth were put and kept in uniform prominence
by him. He was a man of fervent piety,—and
to shelter him from persecution, Lady Huntingdon
secured his services to preach to the nobility in her
drawing-rooms, the poor in her kitchen, and to all
classes in her various places of worship.
About 1764, she added to the number of her
chaplains the Hon. and Rev. Walter Shirley, rector
of Loughrea, in Ireland. His connexion with her
ladyship raised a violent storm of persecution against
him in his own county. But his heart was too deeply
impressed with the truth to allow his tongue to be
silent. He became a warm and devoted labourer in the
various churches erected by the Countess. Thomas
Haweis, LL.B., was also chaplain to the Countess.
Mr. Haweis took a prominent part in the formation
of the London Missionary Society, published many
.pn 254
sermons, a commentary on the Bible, and other
works. He was a man of great zeal and piety, and
highly respected.
.sp 2
.ce
THE FOUNDRESS OF A RELIGIOUS COMMUNITY.
At the time when the two leaders of Methodism,
Wesley and Whitefield, took adverse positions on
points of theology—the former, zealous for what was
termed the Arminian; the latter, for the Calvinistic,
mode of holding and proclaiming the one Christian
truth, which gives all glory to God, and leaves
human responsibility unimpugned; Lady Huntingdon
warmly professed her approval of Calvinistic
doctrine, and gave the whole of her influence to that
side of Methodism. Whitefield conscious of his want
of ability to govern a community, wisely abstained
from the attempt to found a denomination, and gave
his powerful aid to his noble patroness in her wide-spread
endeavours to maintain and spread Calvinistic
Methodism. It was in this way that her ladyship
became the head of what was termed “the Countess
of Huntingdon’s Connexion.” This costly movement
included the erection of many spacious churches, the
support of ministers, and the founding and endowing
of a college at Trevecca, in Wales, for the education
of young men, who were left at liberty, when their
studies were completed, to serve in the ministry of the
gospel either in the Countess’s Connexion, in the
Established Church, or in any other of the Churches
of Christ. In 1792, the college was removed from
Trevecca to Cheshunt, where it still exists in a state
.pn 255
of efficiency and usefulness. Her pecuniary resources
were not large, yet she devoted upwards of £100,000
towards the spread of evangelical religion. Although
the term “Connexion” is still applied to the body,
they do not exist in the form of a federal ecclesiastical
union. The congregational form of Church government
is practically in operation among them, and
several of the congregations have joined that communion.
.sp 2
.ce
CHARACTER OF THE COUNTESS OF HUNTINGDON.
She was not what is usually termed beautiful, yet
there was a grace and sweetness about her features
which fully compensated for more perishable charms.
Her figure was noble and commanding; her eyes were
large and lustrous; her nose slightly acquiline; her
lips well-formed and expressive; her forehead bold
and intellectual. Her head-dress was plain and quite
unfashionable; her bonnet unpretending; and her
gown invariably black silk.
Lady Huntingdon possessed great natural talents.
This is vouched for, not so much by her letters as by
her actual administrative performances, by what she
did in governing so long a large association, and in
directing and controlling the minds of many educated
clergy and uneducated lay-preachers. The leading
and most noted public men, such as Chesterfield,
Bolingbroke, and several of the bishops, listened with
enthusiasm to her conversation. The celebrated ladies
who ruled the court, and drew the flower of the
nobility to their feet, were powerfully influenced by
.pn 256
her Ladyship. Her conversational powers were remarkable.
There was scarcely a subject on which she
could not talk with freedom.
The Countess sympathised with human misery in all
its forms, and to the utmost of her ability relieved it.
Her nature was exceedingly generous. One of her
ministers once called on her Ladyship with a wealthy
person from the country. When they left, he exclaimed,
“What a lesson! Can a person of her noble
birth, nursed in the lap of grandeur, live in such a
house, so meanly furnished; and shall I, a tradesman,
be surrounded with luxury and elegance! From this
moment, I shall hate my house, my furniture, and
myself, for spending so little for God and so much in
folly.” Religion with her was not a creed, nor an
ecclesiastical position, but a living power. She admired
consistency, and exemplified it in her life. It
must not be supposed that she was perfect. She had
her frailties, which she was aware of, and mourned
over. But her private virtues and her public acts
have ranked her among the most illustrious reformers
of the Christian Church.
.pn 257
.sp 2
.h3 id=c7s2
SECTION II.—ELIZABETH, DUCHESS OF GORDON.
“The Church of Christ has often been indebted to ladies in
high station whose hearts the Lord touched, who devoted themselves
with singular ardour to the extension of His kingdom;
using the graciousness of their rank and breeding to strengthen
His ministers, and win favour for His holy cause; and who in so
doing had a peculiar heavy cross of self-denial and reproach to
bear. Had we lived in days when the gracious dead were
canonized, and supposed to be helpful in heaven as they had been
on earth, we should doubtless have had a Scottish Saint Elizabeth,
in the last Duchess of Gordon.”
.rj
Andrew Crichton.
.sp 2
.ce
RELIGION IN HIGH LIFE.
Christians have generally sprung from humble life.
We love to see piety anywhere; but the histories
of those who have come from the ranks always
lay deepest hold of the Christian mind. When the
poor woman in the almshouse takes her bread and
her water, and blesses God for both; when the homeless
wanderer, who has not where to lay her head, lifts
her eye and says, “My Father will provide,” it is
like the glow-worm in the dark, leaving a spark the
more conspicuous because of the blackness around it.
The evangelization of the poor is a sure sign of Christ’s
gospel. But let us rejoice, that though it hath been
hitherto, we are afraid, incontestably the rule, that
not many of the wise, mighty, and noble have been
called, yet there have been many splendid exceptions.
There have always been some Christians of noble
birth and rank and wealth. Not only is the gospel
.pn 258
translatable into every tongue, and suitable to all the
varying phases of human intellect; but it can descend
to the lowliest cottages, and rise to the most gorgeous
palaces and gild their very pinnacles with celestial
light. Philosophy has wept at the recital of the story
of the Cross; wealth has offered its houses for the
Saviour who had for His home the cold mountain wet
with the evening dew; science has cast her brightest
crowns at the bleeding feet of Emmanuel; and art
has entreated the rejected Redeemer to call her
most fashionable temples His own. We could produce
a long catalogue of illustrious names to prove
that religion can command the homage of genius,
taste, and rank. The religion of Jesus is not the
monopoly of the poor; it is designed for those who are
surrounded with objects which flatter their vanity,
which minister to their pride, and which throw them
into the circle of alluring and tempting pleasures. It
places all on the same level in regard to salvation.
There is no royal road to heaven. All are saved in
the same way. In our own times there are not
wanting some who have laid rank and wealth on the
altar of God.
.sp 2
.ce
BIOGRAPHY.
Elizabeth Brodie, was born in London, on the 20th
of June, 1794. There had been Brodies of Brodie
for many generations. The most noted of her
ancestors was her grandfather Alexander, commonly
called Lord Brodie, who lived in the days of the
Covenant, and was one of the judges of the Court of
Session. Her father was Alexander Brodie; who
.pn 259
having acquired a large fortune in India, returned
home, purchased the estates of Arnhall and the Burn,
in Kincardineshire, and became member of parliament
for Elgin. Her grandmother was Lady Betty
Wemyss, one of the Sutherland family; and her
mother was Miss Elizabeth Wemyss, of Wemyss
Castle, a grand-daughter of the Earl of Wemyss. Her
progenitors were not only illustrious, but virtuous.
Grace is not of blood, but of God; yet in the heritage
which the righteous leave to their children, a moral
resemblance may often be traced even through intervening
generations.
The first six years of her life were spent at Leslie
House, in Fifeshire, and were rendered memorable by
the death of her mother. In what she called “her
mother’s box,” were found reminiscences of that
parent and of her own infant days. She stayed for
some time with her maiden aunts at Elgin, which she
always regarded with affection as the home of her
early years. At the age of eight she was sent to a
boarding-school in London. Here she had, with
immense difficulty, to unlearn her native Scotch, and
acquire a command of English words and English
pronunciation. Her education was thorough in all
the ordinary branches, and she was imbued with a
taste for intellectual and scientific pursuits. Before
seventeen, Miss Brodie came out into society at the
Fife Hunt, in Cupar, with her cousin, the beautiful
Miss Wemyss, afterwards Countess of Rosslyn.
In the reign of the first Charles, Lord Lewis
Gordon, afterwards Marquis of Huntly, rushed over
the possessions of the gentle Lord Brodie, burnt his
mansion and laid waste his lands. But in the times
.pn 260
of the third George, another Marquis of Huntly came
to Brodie on a different errand. The Rev. A. Moody
Stuart pleasantly says, “Unlike his wayward ancestor,
he ran no warlike raid through the plains of Moray,
and brought back no forceful prey to adorn his castle
at Huntly. But the gallant soldier made a better
conquest. In the ever strange circling of events he
sought and won the hand of the young and beautiful
Elizabeth Brodie, and conducted his bride with festive
rejoicings to his home in Strathbogie. There she
shone a far nobler treasure than the spoil of her
father’s house; for in due time she was called to
inherit the untold riches of that Father’s grace, and
so to shed a brighter lustre on the coronet of Gordon
than it had ever worn before, illuminating it with a
heavenly radiance ere it was buried in her tomb.” At
the age of nineteen, the Marquis of Huntly was Miss
Brodie’s accepted suitor, and on the 11th of December,
1813, they were married at Bath. Her husband, as
colonel of the 92nd, or Gordon Highlanders, had seen
hard service, and could show his wounds. They had
one great trial in common to bear: their childless
wedlock sealed the fate of the house of Gordon. After
their marriage they went abroad. On the 16th of
June, 1815, they drew near Brussels, ignorant of
what was happening in the immediate neighbourhood.
The Duchess of Richmond had given her famous
ball, and now all was confusion and dismay. Troubled
minds were set at rest by the British squares at
Waterloo.
The Marchioness of Huntly spent the first few years
of her married life, in much the same way as ladies
of her rank generally do. She drank freely of the
.pn 261
pleasures of the world, and God was not in all her
thoughts. In the autumn of 1815, she returned to
Scotland, and Lord Huntly determined to give her a
festive reception on her coming home to Strathbogie;
and because the winter was not suitable, he deferred
it till her birthday in June. The place of meeting
was the castle park; the people danced on the greensward,
and Lady Huntly distributed small silver coins
to the children with that large-hearted love for the
young so remarkable in her after career. She took
still greater pleasure in a festive tour which followed
a few years after. On this occasion the spirit of the
old highland clanship was revived; fiery crosses
blazed from hill to hill; and Lady Huntly passed in
true Celtic style over the Gordon estates, receiving
the homage of her vassals. In 1819, Lord Huntly
resolved to give a highland welcome worthy of his
rank, to Prince Leopold, at the beautiful lodge of
Kinrara. With the ardent loyalty of the highlands,
the clansmen held themselves ready to honour their
own chief and to welcome his royal guest. With his
highland bonnet, and kilted in the dark tartan of
his clan, Huntly invited the prince to ascend the
hill of Tor Alvie, which commanded a fine view of
the lofty mountains, and the noble Spey. There they
found the marchioness and her party waiting to
receive them. But the tartaned highlanders were
nowhere to be seen. Their chieftain stood with eagle
plume:—
.nf b
“But they with mantles folded round
Were crouched to rest upon the ground,
Scarce to be known by curious eye
From the deep heather where they lie;
.pn 262
So well was matched the tartan screen
With heath-bell dark, and brackens green.
The mountaineer then whistled shrill,
And he was answered from the hill;
Instant through copse and heath arose
Bonnets and spears and bended bows.
And every tuft of broom gave life
To plaided warrior armed for strife;
Watching their leader’s beck and will,
All silent there they stood, and still.
Short space he stood, then raised his hand
To his brave clansmen’s eager band;
Then Shout of Welcome, shrill and wide,
Shook the steep mountain’s steady side.
Thrice it arose, and brake and fell
Three times gave back the martial yell.”
.nf-
“Ah,” exclaimed the Prince, surprised and delighted,
“we’ve got Roderick Dhu here!”
In the summer of 1827, the old Duke died, and the
Marquis and Marchioness of Huntly became the
Duke and Duchess of Gordon. The hereditary influence
of the Gordon family in other days was scarcely
less than regal in the north of Scotland; and even at
the time to which we refer, retained a strong element
of clanship added to that of wealth and rank. Amidst
the enthusiastic rejoicings of the numerous tenantry,
the Duke and Duchess took possession of the noble
castle. It had been called a “castle of felicity,” and
nothing was wanting to make it so, if the good things
of this life could satisfy the soul. The Duchess had
learned how poor earth’s highest joys are in themselves.
She therefore identified herself more with
the people and cause of Christ. No balls were given
at Gordon Castle during the nine years she was its
mistress. In May, 1830, William IV. came to the
.pn 263
throne, and his queen, the sainted Adelaide, selected
the Duchess of Gordon as Mistress of the Robes at the
coronation, and honoured her ever afterwards with her
special friendship. This was a strong temptation to
return to the world, and become a leader of fashion;
but into the court, as into the ducal palace, she carried
a simple, fervent exhibition of Christian principle.
Most of her time, however, was spent at Gordon
Castle, where she presided with queenly grace over
the numerous and noble company always sure to be
there. All things were ordered according to her own
high spiritual ideal.
In May, 1836, George, last Duke of Gordon, was
suddenly taken from her side in London. The blow
was heavy, but her sorrow was assuaged by the assurance
that he slept in Jesus. So little was his death
expected, that the Duchess had turned an ugly quarry
into a beautiful garden, and was looking forward to
the pleasure of driving her invalid husband thither,
and winning a smile from his sick and weary face.
But alas! he was carried past her blooming paradise
in his coffin.
The first year of the Duchess’ widowhood was spent
on the Continent; after which she returned to Huntly
Lodge, where she had spent her married youth. It
now became a serious question how far she should
continue to maintain the style and living of a Duchess.
To have lived on a thousand a year instead of ten
thousand would have saved her from many temptations,
and spared her much money for the Church’s
treasury. But having been numbered by the Lord
in the rank of the “not many noble” that are called,
she decided to abide therein with God. We think
.pn 264
she was right. The light that shines through the cottage
window will cheer and guide the lonely wanderer
who happens to come within its narrow range; but
the lamp on the lighthouse is seen far and wide,
and directs thousands to the sheltering harbour.
The Scotch are a devout and fervent people. But
in some localities the inhabitants were religious only
in name. Strathbogie was chequered by bright lights
and dark shadows—the latter, alas! by far the more
numerous. The ministers preached that it was good
to be good, bad to be bad, and wise to eschew fanaticism;
and the communicants deemed family worship
an excellent thing in the stanzas of the “Cottar’s
Saturday Night.” In answer to prayer, mighty apostles
visited the dark land. With every movement which
seemed to bring life to the spiritually dead district, the
Duchess identified herself; and, therefore, although
she did not till long afterwards sympathise with the
position taken up by the party headed by Dr. Chalmers,
she opened her house to him and the other eminent
men who came to preach the gospel in Strathbogie.
In 1847, after a severe struggle, she became a
member of the Free Church of Scotland; and in
August partook of the Lord’s supper for the first
time along with the people at Huntly, as a member of
their own communion. Chiefly through her instrumentality
the popular mind suddenly awoke to the
importance of religion; clergymen became deeply
fervent, and the morals of a large portion of the
people rose at once to the high Christian level. In
1859, a young man who had been long halting between
two opinions, was overheard disputing in a byre
with an old self-righteous man, and saying, “Na, na
.pn 265
that’ll no do; if ye dinna get Christ first, ye can do
naething.”
The end is soon told. She spent the winter of
1862-3 in London. A conference of ministers was
held at Huntly Lodge on the 13th of January, 1864,
and another was appointed for the 10th of February;
but between those dates the unexpected summons of
death arrived. She fell asleep at half-past seven on
Sabbath evening, the 31st of January, in her seventieth
year.
On the 9th of February her Grace was buried.
The spectacle was deeply affecting as the procession
passed through Huntly; and in the midst of deep
silence, respect, and universal regard, the corpse was
carried through Elgin to the vault of the noble Dukes
of Gordon. The coffin was placed beside her husband’s,
in the only remaining space for the deceased
wearers of the ducal coronet and their children. Till
the last trumpet shall sound, that tomb shall remain
closed on the last and the best of an illustrious race.
.sp 2
.ce
NEW LIFE.
In 1821, the Marchioness of Huntly began to feel
anxious about her soul. God can break the hardest
rock with the feeblest rod, and from the mouth of a
babe ordain strength. A highland servant whom the
Duchess Jane had left at Kinrara, with all reverence
for the chieftain’s lady, ventured to drop a quiet remark
which sank into her heart and was never altogether
forgotten. Lady Huntly was discovered in
the act of reading the Bible by one of the leaders of
aristocratic gaiety, and the incident was declared to
.pn 266
be the best joke they had heard of for many a day.
They thought, however, that a little clever quizzing
would soon make her return to her old ways. But
they were mistaken! They called her “Methodist,”
and she said within herself, “If for so little I am
called a Methodist, let me have something more worthy
of the name;” and set herself to read the Bible still
more earnestly. In her new course of Bible reading she
came to the passage, “If ye, being evil, know how to
give good gifts unto your children, how much more
shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to
them that ask Him?” The words arrested her, and
from that time she began to pray for the Holy Spirit.
In 1822, she accompanied Lord Huntly to Geneva, and
there found an enlightened friend in Madame Vernet,
whom she afterwards looked upon as her spiritual
mother. From Geneva she went to Paris, and, while
travelling, read Erskine’s “Internal Evidences,” which
she found very profitable to her soul. In Paris she
found counsel and help in the house of Lady Olivia
Sparrow; and at length, during a visit at Kimbolton
Castle, the residence of the Duke of Manchester, she
was brought to believe savingly on the Lord Jesus
Christ.
.sp 2
.ce
DEEPENING OF THE LORD’S WORK.
The commencement of the year 1827 forms an
epoch in the spiritual history of Lady Huntly. She
and her husband were on the Continent with two
nieces, when one of them died suddenly at Naples.
The bereavement was keenly felt, but greatly sanctified.
About this time she read Leighton on Peter,
.pn 267
to which she attributed a great deepening of the
work of grace; and she afterwards wrote—“Pray
keep Leighton for my sake, for I have a particular
value for that copy. I truly rejoice to find that you
can read Leighton with pleasure. I know by experience
it is a test of the state of the mind.”
When placed in a situation which required the
heart to be hot like a furnace, and the lip to be burning
like a live coal, she found that grace was proportioned
to duty. To the first period of her Christian
life she thus refers: “In my own case, I believe that
for two years I was a saved sinner, a believer in the
Lord Jesus Christ, and yet that during all that time
I did not see the exceeding sinfulness of sin. I believed
in a general way that I was a sinner who deserved the
punishment of a righteous God; I believed that whosoever
came to Jesus Christ should be saved; but I
had no deep sense of sin,—of my sin. Since then, I
believe I have passed through almost every phase of
Christian experience that I have ever read or heard
of; and now I have such a sense of my utter vileness
and unworthiness, that I feel that the great and holy
God might well set His heel on me, so to speak, and
crush me into nothing.” So marked was the growth of
grace at this time that she used to talk of it as a second
conversion. For several years she had apprehended
Christ as her title to heaven; but she now saw that
He was also her meetness for heaven, and was filled
with peace and joy.
At her departure from Huntly Lodge, to Gordon
Castle, she received what we must call a token from
God. With some other ladies, she paid a visit to the
old castle at Huntly, on the banks of the Deveron,
.pn 268
and within the fair demesne which she was to leave for
a time. In an ancient hall, with carved escutcheons
on its walls, they were attracted by an inscription on
a scroll high above them, which neither the Duchess
nor her visitors could decipher. They moved on, but
she remained gazing at the carved figures. Suddenly
the sun burst out from behind a cloud, and she read
in the light of its rays these words:
.nf c
TO . THAES . THAT . LOVE . GOD . AL . THINGIS . VIRKIS .
TO . THE . BEST .
.nf-
.ti 0
It was as if a voice from heaven had spoken. She
had gotten a motto for her future life; and ever after,
Romans viii. 28, was one of the pillars that upheld
the temple of God in her heart—one of the elements
that leavened her spiritual life.
.sp 2
.ce
OPEN-AIR SERVICES.
On the Saturday before her first communion as a
Presbyterian, it was evident that the church would be
too small on the following Lord’s-day. The Duchess
therefore immediately placed the broad green area of
what had been the old castle court at the service of
the congregation. A naval captain with two or three
visitors set up some military tents, and the ancient
fortress was turned into a temple. The soldiers’
tents, with their white canvas and scarlet mountings,
had a very picturesque appearance. On the Sabbath
morning a large congregation assembled under the
blue vault of heaven.
.nf b
“Then did we worship in that fane
By God to mankind given;
Whose lamp is the meridian sun,
And all the stars of heaven.
.pn 269
“Whose roof is the cerulean sky;
Whose floor the earth so fair;
Whose walls are vast immensity:
All nature worships there.”
.nf-
.ti 0
Before the close of that service more than one was
constrained to say, “God, who commanded the light
to shine out of darkness, hath shined into our hearts,
to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God
in the face of Jesus Christ.” In 1859, she wrote in
reference to evangelistic efforts: “There were eight
thousand tracts given away at the feeing-market
yesterday.” In the summer of 1860, many thousands
assembled in the castle park, at the invitation of the
Duchess, to listen to the silver trumpet of the gospel
sounding the year of jubilee. Similar gatherings were
held during the three following years. On some of
these occasions it was computed that seven thousand
persons were present; on others, ten thousand. The
Lord’s people were refreshed, and many careless ones
were awakened. In 1863, the Duchess writes: “I
cannot but wonder to see the meetings increasing in
numbers and interest every year; not as a rendezvous
for a pleasant day in the country, but really very
solemn meetings, where the presence of the Lord is
felt and the power of His Spirit manifested.” Clergymen
of a certain school may sneer at lay evangelists;
she could not join them in their sneers. It may be
that these men are not always prudent—that their
zeal sometimes outruns their discretion. Well, what
then? Would we have the sentinel to walk with
measured military step, who is on his way to trample
out the lighted match which has been set to a train of
gunpowder? If not human lives, are human souls to
.pn 270
be sacrificed to the martinetism of the excessively
prudent? If we are to contend against a thing
merely because of its abuse, then all preaching must
come to an end, clerical as well as lay.
.sp 2
.ce
GOOD WORKS.
A firm believer in the doctrine of a free salvation
through the mercy of God and the merits of Christ
the Duchess of Gordon ever echoed the exhortation
of the apostle, “Be careful to maintain good works.”
So far from holding good works cheap, she believed
that by them God was glorified, and by them on the
great day she would be judged. “The tree is known
by its fruit.” “Every tree which bringeth not forth
good fruit is hewn down and cast into the fire.” At
Gordon Castle a room was fitted up as a little chapel
for morning and family prayers, and where, aided by
the tones of an organ, the Sabbath evenings might be
rendered profitable to the visitors. She had always
some benevolent scheme on hand, but was frequently
hampered as to the means. When anxious to build a
chapel and infant school, she took a gold vase worth
£1200 to London in the hope of getting it sold.
But as she had difficulty in finding a purchaser, she
writes, “The Duchess of Beaufort, hearing of my
vase, thought of her diamond ear-rings, which she
got me to dispose of for a chapel in Wales, and her
diamonds made me think of my jewels; and as the
Duke has always been most anxious for the chapel,
he agreed with me that stones were much prettier in
a chapel wall than round one’s neck; and so he
allowed me to sell £600 worth, or rather, what
.pn 271
brought that, for they cost more than double.” The
Sabbath was pre-eminently honoured. No departures
or arrivals took place on that day. To those who
think that the gratuitous and instant forgiveness of
the gospel must be fatal to future obedience, it might
be sufficient to remark, that the noblest patterns of
piety, and the most finished specimens of personal
worth, are those who counted their own excellence
the merest dross, and yet felt assured that for
another’s sake they were precious in God’s sight.
But the gospel itself assures us that the faith which
receives the Saviour is the first step of new obedience—that
it is only when God’s righteousness is accepted,
that morality begins.
.sp 2
.ce
CHARACTER OF THE DUCHESS OF GORDON.
From the pages of her accomplished biographer,
we learn that in her youth she had a robust physical
frame; and H. P. Willis, Esq., the American traveller,
tells us, that she was a tall and very handsome
woman, with a smile of the most winning sweetness.
Peculiarly attractive in her manner, her expression,
which in old age was quite heavenly, so lighted up all
her features as to convey the impression that she
must have been very beautiful when young. But it
was not her handsome features which called forth admiration
so much, as her tall and graceful form,
added to which was a countenance beautified by intelligence
and life and winning gentleness.
Her intellect was as vigorous as her body was
robust. She availed herself of the power of invigorating
her mental faculties, of acquiring knowledge
.pn 272
from experience, of pursuing knowledge for its own
sake, of deriving knowledge from the past, and of
rendering the possession of knowledge an enjoyment.
Thus she wanted less than most girls a mother’s arm
to lean upon; and needed less than most wives a husband’s
intellect to guide. She seems to have arrived
at her conclusions slowly; but having arrived at them,
she held them firmly.
Kind words and good deeds will be legible, when
sculptured inscriptions are illegible. These speak
when the granite and the marble are silent. The
benevolence of the Duchess was world-wide. Perhaps
her lavish hospitality was sometimes taken advantage
of; but the keenest cavillers must admit that her own
eye and heart were single. Her aim seemed to be to
convince her guests that the house and all that was
in it was their own. The day after the funeral, an
aged man, with moistened eyes made these remarks.
“This is the greatest calamity that ever befel this
district; of a’ the Dukes that ever reigned here, there
was never one like her; there’s nane in this neighbourhood,
high or low, but was under some obligation to
her; for she made it her study to benefit her fellow-men;
and what crowds o’ puir craturs she helped
every day!” A soldier who had been in the Crimea,
said: “You know that I have seen much to render
my heart callous, but I never was unmanned till now;
I never knew before how tenderly I loved that
honoured lady.” She had a strong feeling of nationality,
and a great love for everything Scotch, such as
the Jacobite songs. But when she received new life,
these were exchanged for the songs of Zion. Her
spirit was most catholic, and she longed to see conflicting
.pn 273
sentiments blended into brotherhood, and to
hear the grand text repeated throughout all lands:
“There is neither Jew nor Greek, neither bond nor
free, there is neither male nor female: for ye are all
one in Christ Jesus.”
.sp 2
.h3 id=c7s3
SECTION III.—MARY JANE GRAHAM.
“Her pursuits were only valuable in proportion as they were
consecrated. In everything ‘to her to live was Christ.’ Nothing
else seemed worthy of the name of Christ.”
.rj
Rev. Charles Bridges, M.A.
.sp 2
.ce
PIETY AND CIRCUMSTANCE.
In dealing with many who avow themselves unbelievers
in Christianity, we not unfrequently meet
with an objection by the help of which they attempt
to construct an argument against our religion. The
tendencies of the mind we are told, are entirely dependent
on the development of the brain, and the
external influences operating upon these, make up
together the sum of the influences concerned in the
production of the faiths of the world. These sceptical
reasoners tell us that it is just as irrational to expect
Christianity to spring up in the universal mind, as to
expect to paint the whole globe with one particular
flower. The soil has laws which determine its products;
and the mind has laws which determine its
beliefs. How shall we meet this? We might deny
that the faith that worketh by love, purifieth the heart,
.pn 274
and overcometh the world, is the product of suggestion,
which is multiform; and assert it to be the
judgment of reason, which is one and the same over
all the world, in every mind and age. But we prefer
appealing to the practical refutation afforded us by
experience. It is a fact that our Christian religion
has already traversed the globe, rooting itself in every
soil, and bearing fruit in every climate. When civilization
has done her utmost, Christianity can out-dazzle
her sublimest triumphs. In the clime where philosophy
holds court with refinement—where poor vulgarity
cannot breathe, we challenge the world to point
out a single instance in which the gospel was unable
to accommodate itself to the peculiar requirements of
the people. What has been its effects in the land of
terror, upon the savagest of human beings. It has
lifted the cannibal from his pool of blood, and led him
like a little child to the altar of consecration. The
door of the world has been thrown open, and the
Lord’s servants have been commanded to enter in.
India has been made accessible to the missionaries of
every Church. The gospel is advancing rapidly among
the teeming millions of the celestial empire. In Africa,
degraded Fingoes, stupid Hottentots, and warlike
Kaffirs, have had their understandings enlightened,
and their hearts softened, by Divine truth and grace.
.nf b
“Sound the timbrel, strike the lyre,
Wake the trumpet’s blast of fire!”
.nf-
.ti 0
for piety is independent of circumstance.
.pn 275
.sp 2
.ce
BIOGRAPHY.
Mary Jane Graham, was born in London, on the
11th of April, 1803, where her father was engaged in
a respectable business. She was the subject of early
religious convictions. At the age of seven, her habits
of secret prayer evidenced the influence of Divine
grace upon her soul. During the greater part of her
childhood, and the commencement of her riper years,
she was enabled to walk with God in sincerity, and
without any considerable declension.
Her school career began before she was eight years
old. She was, however, shortly removed, because of
ill health, and when about the age of ten was sent to
a different kind of school. As far as it was lawful she
always screened the faults of her companions, and
was ever ready and willing to plead for them when
in disgrace; and so powerful was her advocacy, that
her preceptress was constrained to remove out of her
way when her judgment compelled her to persevere
in her discipline.
At the age of twelve her delicate health again occasioned
her removal from school. Her illness lasted
about two months, and during that time, when confined
upon a sofa, she committed to memory the whole
Book of Psalms. She was delighted with Milton’s
“Paradise Lost,” and for many successive mornings
repeated three hundred lines. After her recovery she
spent several months by the seaside. About the age
of sixteen she was brought to the ordinance of confirmation,
and publicly joined herself to the Lord in a
perpetual covenant never to be broken.
About the age of seventeen, Miss Graham fell, for a
.pn 276
few months, from the heavenly atmosphere of communion
with God, into the dark and dismal shades of
infidelity. The metaphysical structure of her mind,
combined with a defective apprehension of her sad
state by nature, induced a spirit of self-dependence;
which led to backsliding from God. In the frivolities
of the world she sought in vain for that priceless boon,
a quiet conscience. Wearied at length, she turned to
religion for comfort, but found that she had no religion;
she had refused to give glory to God, and now
her feet were stumbling upon the dark mountains.
The Divinity of Christ had often been to her an occasion
of perplexity. Repeated examination had fully
convinced her that it was a scriptural doctrine; yet
so repulsive was it to her proud heart, that she was
led from thence to doubt the truth of the Bible itself.
After a few months’ conflict, she was brought, to the
light and liberty of truth, and the once abhorred
doctrine became exceedingly precious. “From that
time,” to use her own words, “I have continued to
sit at the feet of Jesus, and to hear His word, taking
Him for my teacher and guide, in things temporal as
well as spiritual.”
Miss Graham continued to reside in London, and
to devote herself more unreservedly to various studies
and active labours in the service of God her Saviour.
During her residence in the metropolis, the ministry
of the Rev. Watts Wilkinson, and a deep study of the
sacred volume, were the means of advancing her knowledge
and experience of scriptural truth. Adorned by
God with high intellect, which she cultivated with
care, and sanctified for her Master’s service, she
thirsted for knowledge, and relished its acquisition
.pn 277
with peculiar delight. She wrote a treatise on the
intellectual, moral, and religious uses of mathematical
science, which abounds with wise and judicious
observations on the objects and motives of the
worldly and Christian student.
But her studies were not confined to the severer
branches of knowledge. In some of her more lively
exercises of mind she took up the subject of chemistry.
She wrote a short but accurate development of the
principles of music. Botany also attracted her attention.
She had prosecuted, as one of her chiefest studies,
the noble literature and tongue of Britain. The best
writers on the philosophy of mind were familiar to
her. With the principles of Locke she was thoroughly
acquainted. She had profited much by Stewart.
“Butler’s Analogy” was also upon her first shelf. She
had cultivated an acquaintance with the classics of
ancient Greece and Rome, and was perfectly familiar
with the French, Italian, and Spanish languages. In
order to improve herself in the knowledge of the
languages, she made considerable use of them in
mutual correspondence with her young friends.
Her peculiar singleness of aim stimulated her to
apply her literary acquisitions to valuable practical
purposes. The discovery of a strong tincture of infidelity
among the Spanish refugees, combined with
the recollection of her own fall, excited a compassionate,
earnest, and sympathetic concern on their
behalf. The following extract from a letter written
in September, 1825, gives a touching view of her
feelings towards these unhappy men. “I have read one
part of ‘Las Ruinas,’ and in reading it I was struck
with the reflection that the best answer would be a
.pn 278
continual reference to the word of God. I thought
therefore of placing my observations on the blank
pages, and of filling the margin of the printed paper
with references. I beseech you to pray, that if I be
not a fit instrument for the conversion of the souls of
these poor Spanish exiles, the Holy Spirit would be
pleased to raise up some other.”
Upon her removal from London to Stoke Fleming,
near Dartmouth, Devon, which took place in consequence
of protracted indisposition; her energies were
still employed in the service of her Redeemer, and of
His Church. During the first summer of her country
residence, she regularly attended the parish workhouse
at seven o’clock, to explain the Scriptures to
the poor previous to the commencement of their daily
labour. The children of the parish were the objects
of her constant solicitude. She drew out questions
upon the parables and miracles as helps for Sunday-school
teachers; and, when prevented by illness from
attending the school, she assembled the children at
her own house for instruction. The young women
also in the parish occupied a large share of her
anxious thoughts, and she appropriated a separate
evening for their instruction. She was a constant
cottage visitor. The following passage from her
mathematical manuscript is beautiful, and shows
clearly the high and consecrated spirit with which
she connected this humble ministration with her
intellectual pleasures. “Do you ever experience this
proud internal consciousness of superior genius or
learning? God has placed a ready antidote within
your reach. The abode of learned leisure is seldom
far from the humble dwelling of some unlettered
.pn 279
Christian. Thither let your steps be directed. ‘Take
sweet counsel’ with your poor uneducated brother.
There you will find the man, whom our ‘King delighteth
to honour.’ His mean chamber, graced with
one well-worn book, is as ‘the house of God, and the
very gate of heaven.’ Observe how far the very
simplicity of his faith, and the fervour of his love,
exceed anything you can find in your own experience,
cankered as it is with intellectual pride. God has
taught him many lessons, of which all your learning
has left you ignorant. Make him your instructor in
spiritual things. He is a stranger to the names of
your favourite poets and orators; but he is very
familiar with the sweet psalmist of Israel. He can
give you rich portions of the eloquence of one who
‘spake as never man spake.’ He can neither ‘tell
you the number of the stars, nor call them by their
names;’ but he will discourse excellently concerning
the Star of Bethlehem. He is unable to attempt
the solution of a difficult problem; but he can enter
into some of those deep things of God’s law, which to
an unhumbled heart are dark and mysterious. He
will not talk to you ‘in words which man’s wisdom
teacheth;’ but oh! what sweet and simple expressions
of Divine love are those ‘which the Holy Ghost has
taught him’! He ‘knows nothing but Christ crucified;’
but this is the excellent knowledge, to which
all other knowledge is foolishness. He has ‘the fear
of the Lord; that is wisdom. He departs from evil;
that is understanding.’ When your soul is refreshed
by this simple and lovely communion with one of the
meanest of God’s saints, return to your learned retirement.
Look over your intellectual possessions.
.pn 280
Choose out the brightest jewel in your literary
cabinet. Place it by the side of ‘the meek and quiet
spirit’ of this obscure Christian. Determine which is
the ornament of greater price. Compare the boasted
treasures of your mind with the spiritual riches of
your illiterate brother. Run over the whole catalogue.
Let not one be omitted; the depth of your
understanding and the strength of your reasonings,
the brilliancy of your fancy, the fire of your eloquence.
Be proud of them. Glory in them. You cannot.
They dwindle into insignificance.”
About a year after her settlement in Devon, she
became a decided invalid, and except in the year 1827,
she never moved beyond the garden, and only two or
three times ventured into the outward air. For the
last two years she was entirely confined to her room,
and unable to be dressed. During the whole of that
period she was watched over by her mother, and surrounded
by books. Her beloved Bible was always
under her pillow, the first thing in her hand in the morning
and the last at night. For a short time before her
death, the enemy was permitted to harass her soul,
and her lively apprehensions of the gospel were occasionally
obscured. Her bodily sufferings were
most severe, arising from a complication of diseases.
Life terminated at last by a rapid mortification in one
of her legs. The last words she was heard to utter,
were: “I am come into deep waters; O God, my
rock. Hold Thou me up, and I shall be safe.”
The next morning, Friday, December 10th, 1830,
without a sign or struggle, she entered into her eternal
rest. Her lungs, which had been supposed to
be sound, were discovered after death to have been
.pn 281
fatally diseased. Her heart also was found to be
enlarged.
Thus upheld by the good hope of the gospel, this
blessed sufferer, ransomed sinner, and victorious believer,
fell asleep in the arms of her Saviour and her
God. With hearts clad in the habiliments of sorrow,
relatives and friends followed all that could die of
Miss Graham to the lonely graveyard. The Christian
has always a garden around the sepulchre. To such
death is not the penalty of sin, but the gracious summons
of the Saviour—the introduction to that world
where the pure earth, unsmitten by a curse, shall
never be broken for a grave.
.sp 2
.ce
THE GREAT CHANGE.
From her own history we learn that Miss Graham
was converted to God when only seven years old.
Yet it must be admitted that instability marked her
early course in the ways of religion. The general tone,
however, of her spiritual feeling manifested the habitual
operation of a high measure of Divine influence;
while her occasional depressions seem not to have
sunk her below the ordinary level, and were doubtless
connected with those exercises of humiliation described
in her correspondence which will find an echo
in the hearts of all generous Christians. A deep sense
of her own unworthiness was a prominent feature of
her life. In all her natural loveliness, with all her
gentle and amiable attractions, she lay down before
God profoundly in the dust, and poured out from the
very bottom of her heart the often repeated cry, “God
be merciful to me a sinner.” The Holy Spirit had
.pn 282
taught her, that the Searcher of hearts sees guilt in the
fairest characters; and that to be saved she must be
Divinely renewed, and to see the kingdom of God she
must be born again. While Miss Graham was, in the
estimation of her parents and of all the members of
the household, all that their hearts could wish, she
felt her need of an entire and implicit dependence on
Jesus Christ for salvation. She was also deeply anxious
to bring others to the Saviour, that His Cross might
be covered with trophies, and His crown blaze with
jewels. If she heard of any that were awakened to a
sense of their state and condition in the sight of God,
it was always with great delight. Often has she been
known on such occasions to shed tears of joy.
While her love for the ministers and ordinances of
God are worthy of special remark, we must not forget
to mention her love to the brethren—these are conscious
and unequivocal marks of vital Christianity.
.sp 2
.ce
THEOLOGICAL ATTAINMENTS.
The fine, powerful, and spiritual mind of Miss
Graham, is abundantly illustrated in her writings and
correspondence. For sound divinity, clear reasoning,
and fervent piety, there is probably no book in the
English language superior to her “Test of Truth.”
Scott’s “Force of Truth,” though a valuable work,
will bear no comparison with it. In a posthumous
work, “The Freeness and Sovereignty of God’s
Justifying and Electing Grace,” she furnishes us with
a full, clear, and scriptural statement on the humbling
doctrine of original sin. “It is the very first lesson
in the school of Christ: and it is only by being well
rooted and grounded in these first principles that we
.pn 283
can hope to go on to perfection. The doctrine is
written in Scripture as with a sunbeam. If we do not
feel some conviction of it in our own hearts, it affords
a sad proof that we still belong to that ‘generation
that are pure in their own eyes, and yet is not washed
from their filthiness.’” After adducing most convincing
Scriptural evidence, she forcibly illustrates the
subject by the case of infants, and appeals to the sacred
records of Christian experience. To the doctrine of the
total depravity of man, she thus applies the reductio
ad absurdum method of proof: “If man be not utterly
depraved, he must be in one of these two states—either
perfectly good, without any mixture of sin; or
good, with some mixture of evil and imperfection.
The first of these suppositions carries its own absurdity
upon the face of it. The second is plausible, and
more generally received. Yet it is not difficult to
prove, that if man had any remaining good in him,
that is—towards God—he could not be the creature
he now is. There could not be that carelessness about
his eternal welfare, that deadness to spiritual things,
which we perceive in every individual whose heart
has not been renewed by Divine grace.” Thus she
finds that the doctrine of man’s partial depravity involves
absurd consequences—conclusions wholly at
variance with fact. The utter helplessness of man
she adduced with great clearness and power, to prove
that the work of grace is all of God. Then having
proven her statement by Scripture, she proceeds to
exhibit in connection with it, the perfect freeness of
Divine grace. Miss Graham must not be confounded
with those exclusive writers who address the free invitations
of the gospel to the elect only. The freeness
.pn 284
of Divine mercy—not the secret decree of the Divine
will—was the ground and rule of her procedure.
On subjects of theological discussion she is as much
at home as on the great doctrines of the gospel.
She thus concludes a discussion on the consistency of
conditional promises with free salvation: “The great
question then about the promises seems to be, not so
much whether they are conditional, as whether God
looks to Christ, or us, for the performance of those
conditions. If to Christ, the burden is laid upon one
that is mighty: if to us, then we are undone: ‘for
the condition of man after the fall is such, that he
cannot turn and prepare himself, by his own natural
strength and good works.’” This is strong and uncompromising;
yet it is neither unguarded, unscriptural,
nor discouraging. Her views of the personality
of the Holy Spirit were remarkably clear.
She was accustomed, as her “Prayer before Study,”
plainly proves, to address Him in direct, and probably
frequent supplication. In reference to the deceitful
and superficial arguments of infidelity, she observes,
“Let us disentangle the artful confusion of words and
ideas. Let us set apart each argument for separate
and minute scrutiny. Let us analyse the boasted
reasonings of the infidel philosophy. We shall find
that they may be classed under two heads: assertions
which are true, but no way to the purpose; and
assertions which are to the purpose, but they are not
true.” Her remarks upon the millennium are interesting,
but to attempt an analysis of these views, is
foreign to our purpose.
On the way of salvation, Miss Graham’s correspondence
is highly interesting and instructive. It is
.pn 285
delightful to observe in all her letters, not only extensive
and accurate views of science and sound
theological opinions, but unostentatious piety, glowing
love to the Saviour, and a tender, earnest longing for
the salvation of souls. No service is more valuable
to the sincere but intelligent inquirer, than to enter
into his case with tenderness and forbearance. In
these letters there are no vague and ill-defined directions—no
deficiency of spiritual understanding. They
are rich in evangelical sentiment. Pardoning grace
is proclaimed to the guilty; melting and subduing
grace to the hard-hearted; and sanctifying grace to
the unholy; grace to live and grace to die.
.sp 2
.ce
PRACTICAL RELIGION.
It is a truth endorsed by universal Christendom,
that the more we are disentangled from speculative
inquiries, and occupied in the pursuit of practical
realities, the more settled will be our conviction of
the genuineness of the testimony, and our consequent
enjoyment of its privileges. Miss Graham was
naturally open to the temptation of a cavilling spirit.
She was prone to begin with the speculative instead
of the practical truths of revelation, and to insist
upon a solution of its difficulties as a prerequisite to
the acknowledgment of its authority, and personal
application of its truths. To this we trace her painful,
though temporary apostasy. The following passage,
written about two months before her death, gives an
interesting view of her own search after truth, and
indicates a practical apprehension of the gospel: “I
am grieved that you should for a moment imagine
.pn 286
that I think our dear —— must be lost, because she
does not subscribe to the doctrines of Calvin. I
do not so much as know what all Calvin’s doctrines
are, or whether I should subscribe to them myself. I
have read one book of Calvin’s, many parts of which
pleased me much: I mean his ‘Institutes,’ which
Bishop Horsley says ought to be in every clergyman’s
library. Further than this I know nothing of Calvin
or his opinions. I certainly did not form one single
opinion from his book, for I had formed all my
opinions long before from the Bible. You may remember
my telling you some years ago I declined
greatly, almost entirely (inwardly) from the ways of
God, and in my breast was an infidel, a disbeliever in
the truths of the Bible. When the Lord brought me
out of that dreadful state, and established my faith in
His word, I determined to take that word alone for
my guide. I read nothing else for between three and
four months, and the Lord helped me to pray over
every word that I read. At that time, and from that
reading, all my religious opinions were formed, and I
have not changed one of them since. I knew nothing
then of Calvin. I have said so much, dear ——,
because I think it a very wicked thing to do, as you
seem to think I do, to call Calvin or any man
‘master on earth,’ or to make any human writer our
guide in spiritual things.” Miss Graham’s religion
consisted in receiving the whole Bible without partiality
or gainsaying, loving God, and doing good to
man.
.pn 287
.sp 2
.ce
PROGRESS AND POWER.
The source of all progress and power to the child of
God is union, an abiding union with Jesus. Miss
Graham felt this for years, and longed for it as the
one thing needful to satisfy the cravings of her own
soul, and increase her usefulness to others. The
abiding graces of the Christian life, faith,—hope, and
charity—are also its abiding forces. Christians should
learn to live, as well as learn to die. The twofold
significance of the text, “The just shall live by faith,”
struck deep into the generous soil of her ardent
heart and active mind. The just shall be made alive
first, and afterwards learn to live by faith. The just
shall be justified before God first, and afterwards learn
the way to become just also in heart and life by faith.
“If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, ye
shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done unto you.
Herein is my Father glorified, that ye bear much
fruit; so shall ye be my disciples. As the Father
hath loved me, so have I loved you: continue ye in
my love. If ye keep my commandments, ye shall
abide in my love: even as I have kept my Father’s
commandments, and abide in His love. These things
have I spoken unto you, that my joy might remain in
you, and that your joy might be full.” Simply to
abide in Jesus is the whole philosophy of progress
and power.
.sp 2
.ce
CHARACTER OF MISS GRAHAM.
The biographer of Miss Graham, has been constrained
to compensate for the paucity of incident—furnished
by her life, to introduce large extracts from
.pn 288
her writings and correspondence. From these extracts,
and a portrait taken four years before her
death, we learn that her physical constitution was
rather too finely strung. Bred delicately in a great
city, shut up in a nursery in childhood, and in a
school through youth—never accustomed to air or
exercise, her beauty faded quickly, and she was cut
off in the midst of life. To preserve health it is not
necessary to visit some distant clime, nor to do some
great thing, but simply to obey her laws.
A striking feature of her intellectual character, was
a total concentration of every power of thought and
feeling in the object of pursuit immediately before
her. In youthful games she engaged with the same
ardour which she afterwards applied to languages
and sciences. Indeed, she followed Solomon’s advice
in everything she undertook: “Whatsoever thine
hand findeth to do, do it with thy might!” It was
impossible to divert her mind from the object that
was engaging her attention to any other employment
or recreation. To subjects of taste, she brought a
glow of feeling and imagination; matters of a graver
cast, are drawn out with the sober accuracy of a reflecting
and discriminating judgment.
One of our poets glowingly exclaims,—
.nf b
“O Thou bleeding Lamb!
The true morality is love of Thee.”
.nf-
Miss Graham’s love to her Saviour was one of her
most prominent characteristics. Those parts of Scripture
that brought her into closer contact with the
subject nearest her heart. Every evening she devoted
an hour to intercessory prayer. She also set apart
.pn 289
special times for secret dedication and communion
with God. The sacred book was her constant food
and study. Her love for the ordinances of God deserves
special remark. Messengers of the gospel she
loved for their work’s sake, and for their Master’s
sake. “Pray before, as well as after your visit”
was her solemn entreaty to her own beloved minister.
.nf b
“Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever;
Do noble things, not dream them, all day long,
And so make life, death, and that vast For-ever,
One grand, sweet song.”
.nf-
.sp 2
.h3 id=c7s4
SECTION IV.—FIDELIA FISKE.
“In the structure and working of her whole nature, she seemed
to me the nearest approach I ever saw, in man or woman, to my
ideal of our blessed Saviour as He appeared on the earth.”
.rj
Dr. Anderson.
.sp 2
.ce
CHRISTIANITY AND HUMAN NATURE.
The peculiarities of Christianity form a most important
and powerful argument in favour at once of
its truth and of its Divine origin. A comparison of
Christianity with other religions not only proclaims
it to be the only religion worthy of God and suitable
for human nature; but proclaims at the same time,
and with equal power and effect, the utter futility of
the infidel maxim,—that all religions are alike. A
false religion, whether recorded in the pages of the
Koran or the Shaster, may contain many important
truths; but the fact that it is a human instead of
.pn 290
a Divine, a false instead of a true religion, indelibly
stamps it as unacceptable in the sight of Him who is
“Holy in all in His works;” and unadapted to meet
the wants of sinful creatures. There is only one religion
in entire accord with all the phases, aspects,
and transitions of the human mind; and that is the
religion of the Bible. Christianity is adapted to you
as an intellectual being—it records a history—it reveals
a theology—it unfolds a philosophy—it affords
scope for reasoning—it appeals to the imagination.
Christianity is in harmony with your moral nature.
Truly and beautifully has Sir Thomas Browne said,
“There is no felicity in what the world adores—that
wherein God Himself is happy, the holy angels are
happy, and in whose defect the devils are unhappy—that
dare I call happiness.” Your character is entirely
sinful and depraved. Christianity presents to
you the ideal of your original rectitude, and would
win you to the love of holiness, as a thing of beauty
and majesty. Christianity is adapted to you as an
emotional being. The facility in shedding tears at
the remembrance of sin, or at the cross, is no evidence
of repentance; joy in the belief that sins are forgiven
is no proof of conversion. Yet weeping is a mighty
thing. Our Saviour never fell into sentimentalism or
affectation, but His great soul ran over His eyes when
on earth; and it would do the same if He dwelt with
us now. Christianity excites the deepest emotion,
and wakes up all the tumultuous feelings of the soul.
Christianity is in harmony with your social nature.
It takes your state under its auspices; and its tendency
is, by its laws and influences, directly or indirectly,
to etherealize the affections of the family, to
.pn 291
ennoble the love of country, and to inflame all the
enthusiasms which point to the good and glory of the
race. Christianity is adapted to you as a suffering
being. Trials are ill to bear. They are not “joyous,
but grievous.” Yet he who believes that all things
work together for good, will thank God for medicine
as well as for food; and for the winter that kills the
weeds, as well as for the summer that ripens the fields.
Christianity is in harmony with your immortal nature.
You are full of “thoughts that wander through
eternity;” and Christianity establishes the truth of a
future state—secures its glory—prepares for its enjoyment.
It makes the hope of heaven a guiding
principle in life, adapting its disclosures and descriptions
of the future inheritance to the varied circumstances
of the present. What a religion this!—it is
the power of God, and the wisdom of God. “How
shall we escape, if we neglect so great salvation?”
.sp 2
.ce
BIOGRAPHY.
Fidelia Fiske was born on the 1st May, 1816, at Shelburne;
a decayed town in Nova Scotia. Her father,
a man of noble form, benignant face, and saintly character,
who lived to the patriarchal age of ninety-two;
was descended of ancestors who had emigrated from
England to America. Her mother was a woman of
great activity and equability; a native of Taunton, Massachusetts.
This colony took its name from the circumstance
that it was founded by a number of Christian
men and women, who went forth from St. Mary
Magdalene church, Taunton, Somerset, in the days of
Archbishop Laud. The home of her childhood was a
.pn 292
plain one-storey farmhouse, the large family room of
which served as kitchen, nursery, dining and sitting
room. In that mountain-home life was quiet and
simple, yet by no means dull and monotonous. Around
the blazing fire the little circle gathered every evening,
while sewing, knitting, reading, and story-telling
filled up the swift hours; till at length the great Bible
was brought forth, a chapter read, and a fervent prayer
offered. At early dawn they renewed their peaceful
pursuits, amid the ceaseless and ever-varying voices
of nature. As a child, Fidelia was unusually thoughtful
and observing. She always weighed consequences,
and nothing could escape her notice.
When about four years of age, she began to attend
the district school near her father’s house. Here for
some ten or twelve years she pursued the studies
usually taught in country schools. Though by no
means a prodigy, she had next to no labour in acquiring
the art of reading; and easily outstripped others
of the same age, and won the place of honour in her
class. On the 12th of July, 1831, Fidelia made a
public profession of her faith in Christ, and became a
member of the Congregational church at Shelburne.
In 1839, Miss Fiske entered the middle class in Mount
Holyoke seminary. This institution enjoyed a high
reputation for its educational and religious tone. Miss
Lyon, who presided over it, was a most gifted, fascinating,
and holy woman. Early impressed by religious
truth, Fidelia here found herself in a thoroughly
congenial element. The diligence and thoroughness
of study required suited her mental habits; while
the prominence given to religious instruction and
religious duties met the wants of her rapidly-developing
.pn 293
religious life. As might have been expected, she
soon formed an attachment for Miss Lyon, which was
reciprocated, and which time only intensified. At the
close of her first year, a malignant form of typhoid
fever appeared in the academy. Miss Fiske returned
home to her parents. Two days after, she was seized
with the disorder, and for many days lay at the gate
of death. During that season of sickness she learned,
for the first time, the real feelings of the sick and
dying, and how to care for them. Nor were these
the only lessons she learnt. The malady passed from
her to her father, who went through the gate that
seemed to have opened for his daughter. Her younger
sister also, who had been converted in answer to her
prayers, followed her father into the land of the immortals.
The autumn of the following year found
her again at Mount Holyoke, a member of the senior
class. After graduating, she became a teacher. Although
high culture marked in a distinguishing
degree this seminary, it was unlike many of the
schools in England for ladies, where the tinsel of
accomplishments is preferred to the ennobling influence
of piety.
We have now reached the great crisis in her history.
At the meeting of the American Board at Norwich,
Connecticut, in the autumn of 1842, Miss Lyon was
very anxious that her seminary should be more
thoroughly pervaded with the missionary spirit. Calling
a meeting of such as were present, she told them
that the institution had been founded to advance the
missionary cause, and that she “sometimes felt that
its walls had been built from the funds of missionary
boards.” Miss Fiske little knew how much that meeting
.pn 294
would cost her. While she and others were
earnestly pleading for the heathen, the Lord’s messenger
was approaching her with a call to become a missionary
herself. Dr. Perkins came to Mount Holyoke,
and made a request for a young lady to go with him
to Persia. Miss Fiske sent a note to him with these
brief words, “If counted worthy, I should be willing
to go.” On her decision becoming known at the
seminary, Miss Lyon said, “If such are your feelings,
we will go and see your mother and sisters;” and in
an hour they were on their way. A thirty miles’ ride,
on a cold wintry Saturday, through snow-drifts in
which they were several times upset, brought them to
the Shelburne hills. The family were aroused from
their slumbers to receive unexpected guests, and to
hold an unexpected consultation. Prayers and tears
mingled with the solemn and tender discussions of the
hour. Before the Sabbath closed, her mother was
enabled cheerfully to say, “Go, my child, go.” Other
friends could not withhold their consent, and the great
question was definitely decided.
On Wednesday, March 1st, 1843, Miss Fiske, with
others destined for the same general field, embarked
on board the Emma Isadora. At half-past four
o’clock p.m. the barque left her wharf, and moving
down the harbour was soon out of sight. The voyage
was pleasant. A storm overtook them, but no fear
disturbed Miss Fiske; despite the anxious countenance
of the captain, and the need for vigilance on the part
of the crew, she writes: “I look out from my cabin
window to trace a Father’s hand in this wild commotion.”
She did not wait until she arrived in Persia,
but began her ministry of love by taking under her
.pn 295
special care the young daughter of Dr. and Mrs. Perkins,
guiding her studies and leading her to the
Saviour. On the 8th of April, the ship anchored
before Smyrna. After a week’s rest the Austrian
steamer left, and in thirty-eight hours reached Constantinople.
The perils and hardships of the sea were
past, but seven or eight hundred miles still lay between
our missionary friends and their Persian home. However,
under the skilful guidance of Dr. Perkins, they
passed safely to Urumiyah, their destined field of
labour.
According to English gazetteers, Urumiyah is a
walled town, and contains upwards of 20,000 inhabitants,
of whom about 10,000 are Nestorians, 2000
Jews, and the rest Mohammedans. It claims to be the
birthplace of Zoroaster, and in the vicinity are several
mounds supposed to be the hills of the ancient fire-worshippers.
The Nestorians derive their name from
Nestorius, a heretic of the fifth century, who taught
that Christ was divided into two persons. Nestorius
acquired so much distinction by his learning, pulpit
eloquence, and purity of life, that, in 428, he was
elevated to the patriarchate of Constantinople. But
fourteen centuries had wrought terrible degradation
in Persia. There was little of Christianity, except the
name, when the American Board of Commissioners
established a mission and educational agency in 1834.
The language of the Nestorians contained no words
corresponding to home and wife, the nearest approach
to them being house and woman. To a person of
refinement and delicacy, like Miss Fiske, it must
have been shocking to see women treated by men as
drudges and slaves: wives beaten often and severely
.pn 296
by their husband; yea, a whole village of these coarse
and passionate creatures engaged in a quarrel among
themselves, their hair all loose and flying in the wind.
Miss Fiske’s chief solicitudes were given to the educational
agency. By great tact she effected considerable
reformation in the schools, and corrected the
prevalent habits of lying and stealing among her
pupils. She also found time to visit the Nestorian
women, to pray with them, and read the Scriptures.
In 1844, her labours and plans were suddenly
interrupted by a storm of persecution which burst
upon the mission. When the missionaries had most
reason to fear expulsion, Miss Fiske thus wrote:—“I
knew not before that my affections had become so
closely entwined around this poor people, nor how
severely I should feel a removal from them.” In
the providence of God their enemies were thwarted;
and they were permitted to remain and go on with
their work, though not without great opposition.
Towards the end of the year, Miss Fiske resumed her
duties. How hard she laboured; with what holy fire
her bosom burned; how earnestly she longed for a
brighter day to dawn on the wretched Persian women;
with what success she enforced upon mothers as well
as pupils their relative duties; how brilliantly she
illustrated the text, “Dying, and behold we live;
unknown, and yet well known; poor, yet making
many rich; having nothing, yet possessing all
things”! In 1849, the first public examination of
the school was held, and about two hundred guests
listened with unabated interest to the exercises till
the sun went down. The pupils were examined in
ancient and modern Syriac, Bible history, geography,
.pn 297
and natural philosophy. The following year opened
upon them in a new, large, and convenient building.
In the autumn of 1856, the Persian government
again tried to break up the educational agency.
Askar Khan visited the seminary, and explored every
part of it. He questioned one of the girls who could
speak Turkish, but was baffled by the discreet replies
of the pupil; yet in a decided manner he condemned
female education, and told the girls that their former
condition was the only proper one for them.
When we think of the physical labour, the mental
effort, the practical wisdom, the ready discernment of
character, the unconquerable perseverance, and the
devoted piety necessary for discharging the functions
of a female missionary; we do not wonder that sixteen
years produced a wearing and exhausting effect
upon Miss Fiske’s health. The time had come when
change was imperatively demanded; and as Dr.
Perkins and Mrs. Stoddard were expecting to leave
for America the following summer, it was decided
that she should accompany them. During the intervening
months she received ample evidence of the permanency
of the work of grace that had been wrought
in the land of her adoption. On the morning of her
departure, about seventy former pupils gathered about
her, and asked the privilege of one more prayer—meeting
with her in her room, “the little Bethel,” as
they called it. Six prayers were offered, all tender
and comforting—one particularly so; and this one
she had frequent occasion to remember in the course
of her long journey, and always felt comforted and
encouraged by it.
The population of Nova Scotia is now chiefly composed
.pn 298
of a native race, sprung directly or indirectly
from the three great families of the United Kingdom.
They are situated on the confines of a frozen ocean,
but their hearts are not chilled, nor their friendships
blunted by its influence. Miss Fiske soon recognised
many in the group which surrounded her at the old
sanctuary on the first Sunday after her return.
During 1860, she visited Boston, to say farewell to a
band of missionaries destined for the Nestorian field.
Although glad that labourers were being sent forth,
she could not repress a pang of regret that she could
not go with them. Most extensive and blessed was
the work she carried on during her sojourn in
America; but amid it all the noble woman turned
her face to the East and longed to be among the
daughters of Persia. Feebler and fainter, however,
became that hope; and soon it was certain that no
journey but that to the “beautiful land” lay before
Miss Fiske.
For six weeks she was confined almost entirely to
her bed. She was able, however, to write many
letters of counsel and comfort. One written May 26th,
1864, and addressed to Dr. Wright, on his leaving
America for Persia, indicated her never-failing interest
in the work to which she had consecrated the best
years of her life. The disease, which at first was
supposed to be cancerous, proved to be a general
inflammation of the lymphatic vessels. For two or
three nights she was obliged to remain in a sitting
posture. Her last loving message to the teachers and
pupils of Mount Holyoke, closed with the words,
“Live for Christ; in so doing we shall be blessed in
time and in eternity.” On the Sabbath morning she
.pn 299
asked to have a number of the tracts entitled “Immanuel’s
Land” laid upon her table, so that every
person visiting her might carry away one. The Rev.
E. Y. Swift called to see her on Tuesday, July 26th.
She held out her hand to welcome him, and feebly
said, “Will you pray.” These were her last words.
As the prayer ascended, her spirit was caught up to
learn the strains of the everlasting song of praise.
Not in the land of the Persian, but in her native
country—the soil from which spring the children of
freedom, the hearts of honesty, and the arms of
bravery—was the body let down to the grave, in the
full assurance that the soul was in heaven. At the
funeral, one who knew her well, said: “God sent her
to benighted Persia, that those poor people might
have there an image of Jesus, and learn what He was
like; not by cold theories, but by a living example.
He brought her back to us, that we might see what
sanctified human nature can become, and might gain
a new view of the power of His grace.” Some old
grey heads, more becoming grey, and many bright in
manhood and womanhood, breathed the prayer:—
.nf b
“Then farewell, pure spirit! and oh that on all
Thy mantle of love and devotion might fall!
Like thee may we toil, that with thee we may rest,
With our Saviour above, in the home of the blest!”
.nf-
.sp 2
.ce
SECOND AND BETTER BIRTH.
Miss Fiske could neither remember the time when
she was unimpressed by religious truth, nor the
precise period at which she was born again. To her
father she was indebted for that remarkable acquaintance
.pn 300
with the Bible, which often surprised and
delighted her friends. Fond of general reading, he
took a special pleasure in consulting the lively oracles.
He honoured the Bible in the family. When his
children manifested a distaste for their lessons in the
catechism, he permitted them to substitute the inspired
for the uninspired word. He believed that it
was quite as safe to drink at the fountain-head as at
the stream. When thirteen years of age, her Sabbath-school
teacher—a daughter of her pastor—one day
faithfully addressed her class on the subject of
personal religion. That night Fidelia lay on her bed
wakeful and tearful. At length her anxiety became
too great to be concealed. Her mother suspecting
the true state of the case, and alluding to the fact
that something seemed to be troubling her, one day
kindly said, “What is it, my child?” The full heart
instantly overflowed with the long pent-up feeling, as
she answered, “Mother, I am a lost sinner.” She
had a wise counsellor, who led her to look well into
the grounds of her hope; and the result was a Christian
profession, not only free from palpable defect, but
unusually enriched with the fruits of the Spirit.
When an infant leaves the womb, although the same,
it may be said to be a new creature. Now, just
because the change wrought on the soul in conversion
is also great, it is called a birth. That is
the first; this is the second, and better birth. Better!
because in that a daughter of man is born but for
the grave; whereas in this a daughter of God is born
for glory.
.pn 301
.sp 2
.ce
JUVENILE HABIT OF DOING GOOD.
She soon began to take a deep and active interest
in the spiritual welfare of others. Her heart went
forth most tenderly towards the poor of Christ’s flock,
amongst whom she spent a large portion of her time,
seeking not only to comfort them, but to improve her
own piety by listening to their simple records of
Divine goodness. She loved the Lord’s poor intensely;
and could not bear to hear their infirmities
too freely animadverted upon. She delighted unbidden
to soothe the sorrows of those who were in
distress, no matter how bad their previous conduct
may have been. To activity in her kind offices she
joined perseverance. Her charity was an evergreen,
preserving its verdure at all seasons.
The Sabbath-school was to her a most congenial
sphere of usefulness, and to its labours she gave
herself with full purpose of heart. She had a high
idea of the importance of this work; spent much time
in preparation for her class; and was an example of
punctuality, regularity, kindness, and devotion. Her
interest in her pupils was not confined to the hour
spent with them on the Sabbath. She sought, in
various ways, to win them to Christ, often calling the
pen to her aid. Verily she believed that the whole
Church was formed of individual members, and the
whole tide of Christian exertion made up of single
acts; just as the ocean is formed of drops, the globe
of particles, and the nocturnal glory of single stars.
Her sentiments were in harmony with the following
inspiring verses:—
.pn 302
.nf b
“Go up and watch the new-born rill,
Just bursting from its mossy bed;
Streaking the heath-clad hill,
With a bright emerald thread.
Canst thou its bold career foretell,
What rock it may o’erleap or rend;
How far in ocean swell,
Its freshening billows send?
Perchance that little rill may flow
The bulwark of some mighty realm—
Bear navies to and fro,
With monarchs at their helm.
A pebble in the streamlet scant,
Has turned the course of many a river;
A dew-drop on the tiny plant,
May warp the giant oak for ever.”
.nf-
.sp 2
.ce
MISSIONARY LIFE.
Miss Fiske had the spirit of a missionary, before
she had the most distant conception of ever being engaged
in the work. Her missionary life would not suffer
by comparison with that of the most devoted agents
who ever entered the field. At Seir, the Lord gave
her an earnest of the blessing He was about to bestow
on her self-renouncing labours in Persia. When the
intelligence was received by her of sixty young ladies
who were unconverted at the time she left Mount
Holyoke, and all but six of whom were now rejoicing
in hope, she burst into a flood of grateful tears.
When the American missionaries went to Persia,
there was but a single Nestorian female who could
read. She was Helena, the sister of the Patriarch,
.pn 303
whose superior rank secured her this accomplishment.
The rest were not only ignorant, but content to remain
so. In addition to this, the poor Nestorians groaned
under the bondage of a Mohammedan yoke, whose
rule was capricious and tyrannical. In entering on
her missionary duties, Miss Fiske writes: “Soon after
our arrival, one of the elder members of our circle
remarked that he did not know of five in the whole
Nestorian nation whom he could look upon as true
Christians.” The female seminary, which has done
so much for the social, intellectual, and spiritual improvement
of woman in Persia, was, during the first
five years of its existence, simply a day-school: the
pupils boarding at home, and spending only a few
hours daily with their teachers in the school-room.
From the first, she was very desirous of changing the
character of the school, making it a boarding-school,
in which pupils might remain several years, and be
under the exclusive care and training of the teachers.
The very idea of such a school was so repugnant to
all the hereditary views of social propriety among the
Nestorians, as to seem almost chimerical. Most of
the girls were betrothed before they were twelve years
of age; and the parents were afraid to give up those
who were not, lest they should lose some favourable
opportunity of marriage. They were also apprehensive
that if their daughters were put to a boarding-school,
they would not be able to carry heavy burdens,
nor wield the spade so successfully as their companions
who had never learned to read. But notwithstanding
these difficulties, Miss Fiske succeeded
in establishing a flourishing school conformed to her
own ideal.
.pn 304
Her efforts to interest the women in the Bible were
sometimes amusing. After reading the history of the
creation, she asked, “Who was the first man?” They
answered, “What do we know? we are women.”
Then she told them that Adam was the first man,
and made them repeat the name till they remembered
it. The next question was, “What does it mean?”
Here too they could give no answer; but were
delighted to find that the first man was called red
earth, because he was made of it. This was enough
for one lesson. It woke up faculties previously
dormant. She was not content with the few women
who came to receive religious instruction at the seminary;
but visited them at their homes, going from
house to house, where filth and vermin would have
repelled any woman of refinement whose heart did
not glow with love to Christ, and love to perishing
souls for whom He died.
.sp 2
.ce
RESULT OF A CONSECRATED LIFE.
The great study of Miss Fiske was to be Christ-like.
She lived but for one object—the glory of the
Redeemer in connection with the salvation of immortal
souls. Hence, she carried with her a kind of
hallowing influence into every company into which
she entered; and her friends were accustomed to feel
as if all were well when their measures met with the
sanction and approval of the young missionary. In
January, 1846, the work of the Holy Spirit became
deep and general. The first Monday of the new year
was observed by the mission as a day of fasting and
prayer. “We had spoken,” writes Miss Fiske, “of
.pn 305
passing that day in wrestling for souls. But we had
only begun to seek, not to wrestle, when we learned
that souls were pleading for themselves.” The
intellects of the girls seemed greatly quickened by
the grace in their hearts; thus illustrating the power
of the gospel, to elevate and improve the whole
character and life. The conversion of Deacon
Gewergis, one of the vilest of the Nestorians; and
his subsequent devotion to Christ, is too beautiful
and of too profound significance to be omitted.
After much faithful and affectionate conversation,
Miss Fiske said to him, “When we stand at the bar
of God, and when you are found on the left hand, as
you certainly will be if you go on in your present
course, promise me that you will tell the assembled
universe that, on this 22nd day of February, 1846,
you were told your danger.” She could say no more;
her heart was full. He burst into tears, and said,
“My sister, I need this salvation.” On the 12th
March, 1856, he died in the Lord. The year 1849
witnessed one of the most interesting and extensive
revivals that ever occurred in connection with the
Nestorian mission. All the girls in the female seminary
over twelve years of age, were hopefully converted,
and many of them were, from that time, bright
and shining lights in that dark land. The secret of
these conversions may surely be said to be the spirit
of entire dependence upon God. The imagination
was not appealed to by terrors. There were no
dramatic scenes to awaken fear. There was no mere
got-up excitement. It was as if flowers that had
been in darkness were persuaded to crave the blessed
sunlight.
.pn 306
.sp 2
.ce
CHARACTER OF MISS FISKE.
Some of our great writers portray the physique of
their heroes and heroines so minutely that they start
into life before our eyes. Height, size, complexion,
conformation of features, to a gauntlet or ribbon, all
are on the graphic page. But the excellent memoir
recently published in England, gives us no account of
the personnel of Fidelia Fiske. Judging from her
portrait, she was about the middle size, finely formed
features, rather delicate, loving eye, mild face, naturally
diffident, yet cheerful, trustful, and hopeful.
She was a singularly gifted woman, and could
accomplish with comparative ease what would be
quite impracticable, or very difficult, to others.
There was the quick comprehension, and the executive
tact, which hardly ever made a failure, or put
forth an inefficient effort. Every stroke and every
touch from her always told in every undertaking.
There was not the slightest bluster nor pretension
about her. So quiet and unostentatious were her
movements, that they would not have been observed,
but for their marvellous results. If endowed with
genius; it was unaccompanied by eccentricity or
folly.
We need scarcely add that she was a noble specimen
of true Christian womanhood. With the testimony
of Dr. Kirk, the eminent Congregationalist minister of
Boston, we close our pleasant task. “I wish to speak
carefully; but I am sure I can say I never saw one
who came nearer to Jesus in self-sacrifice. If ever
there should be an extension of the eleventh chapter
of Hebrews, I think the name of Fidelia Fiske would
.pn 307
stand there. That is a list of those who either had
remarkable faith, or who suffered for the truth. She
was a martyr. She made the greatest sacrifice. She
had given up her will; and when you have done that,
the rest is easy. To burn at the stake for awhile, to
be torn on the rack, to be devoured by wild beasts, is
as nothing when you have torn out your own will,
and laid it upon God’s altar.”
.pn 308
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch08
CHAPTER VIII.||Formation of Female Character.
“The foundation of all great character must be laid in a
change wrought upon the heart by Divine influence. We say a
change of the heart, because the qualities which we bring with us
into the world can never be so improved and polished as to lead
us to act in the manner which the Divine law requires. Some of
the evil propensities of our nature may be checked, the force of
some passions may be weakened, and that of others guided into a
new direction; but in the change of which we speak, and which
we affirm to be the foundation of all true character, these passions
are extirpated altogether, and the virtues of patience, self-denial,
and fortitude, are implanted in their room.”
.rj
James A. Wylie, LL.D.
.sp 2
.ce
VALUE AND INFLUENCE OF CHARACTER.
It would not be easy to name a question of more
vital interest than the importance of character to the
individual and the world. The subject is peculiarly
interesting at present, when, as we apprehend, a new
era is opening on society, in which character shall be
more than ever necessary. By character we mean
qualities of soul; as these are noble or ignoble, so is
your character, and so shall be the influence of your
life. When we see a young woman entering upon a
career of sin, it is not the amount of wrong that
alarms us most; it is the fact that she is forming a
character which will pursue her through life, and
.pn 309
urge her forward in her evil ways, till rushing headlong
down the paths of vice, she falls at last into
hopeless dishonour here and misery hereafter. When,
on the other hand, we see a young woman giving
herself to the cultivation of right dispositions and
good principles,—when we see her consistently subjecting
the inferior principles of her nature to reason,
and her lusts and passions to her conscience, and all
her powers to the control of religion and the fear of
God,—it is not this or that particular good thing that
pleases us most; it is the fact that she is forming a
character which will become to her like a guardian
angel, bearing her up in the rough places of life, and
at last enabling her to dwell in the purer and happier
atmosphere of heaven itself. To all, as individuals,
as parents, as members of a family, and as members
of society in general, there is something of solemn
importance in the fact that none can stand neutral:
all must take one of two courses of life,—the right or
the wrong,—the good or the bad,—the true or the
false.
The end of Providence, as a system of moral
discipline, is the formation of character. The ultimate
design of all the trials and disappointments and
sorrows, the afflictions bodily and mental, personal
and relative, to which all are subject, and from which
none are exempt, is the restoration of that character
which sin has destroyed. Heaven, as to its substance,
consists in the perfection of character. Mental
philosophy renders it a matter of certainty that
the soul possesses an inherent capacity of receiving
happiness or enduring misery to an extent at present
wholly inconceivable. Generally speaking, the powers
.pn 310
of your inner nature are asleep during life; but no
sooner shall death have loosed the fetters that now
confine them, than they will awake, never more to
slumber or sleep: they will start up like the fiery
whirlwind, and begin their sweep along their mighty
orbit, rendering the path of the spirit one of eternal
blackness and desolation; or they will then move on
without let or hindrance in their path of light and
joy, like the white-robed planet of the heavens around
the great source of gravitation.
All those great revolutions by which the world has
been extensively and permanently benefited have
been brought about mainly by the influence of
character. Genius has discovered the sciences and
perfected the arts, and these have given us almost
unlimited dominion over the world on which we
dwell. So many and so substantial have been the
benefits genius has conferred, that it may seem at
first sight as if she had been the great benefactress of
the world. But it is not difficult to show that the
progress of art or science, unless their application be
regulated by sound moral principle, is even dangerous
to the world: they must be either a blessing or a
curse, according as they are used or abused. From a
variety of causes, the planting of Christianity in the
world was the hardest task ever assigned to any of
the human race. Alas! mere genius could have done
little in that great work. Her vocation is to shine,
and the promulgation of Christianity required suffering.
The first Christians were not distinguished for
their learning or eloquence, but they were endowed
with power from on high to proclaim faithfully and
courageously the great facts of which they had been
.pn 311
the eye-witnesses. How manifest it is that we owe
the spread of Christianity, not to talent, but to character.
In the contest which resulted in the glorious
Reformation, mere genius would soon have been
foiled; heroic hardihood of soul, unbounded homage
for truth, and unmeasured contempt for error, were
necessary to burst the fetters of superstition. Talent
could detect the errors of the Romish system, lash
the vices of the clergy, and consign the Pope to ever-burning
fires; but character was needed to accomplish
the more difficult task of emancipating Europe.
That character is superior to talent is evident from
the maxim, now become trite, that example is better
than precept. It is also more valuable than rank.
You may be proud of your pedigree, and point with
imperial gusto to the family crest; but remember
that rank is an accident over which you have no
control, and titles will be felt to be empty things
when you lie pining on a bed of sickness. In the
present state of the world, reputation may rank
higher than character, but it should be borne in mind
that the former is merely the symbol of the latter.
Maintain your character, be not over-anxious about
your reputation. Character is the woman—reputation
is only what the woman is said to be.
.sp 2
.ce
ORIGINAL CONSTITUTION.
It has been thought by some that all human minds
are originally constituted alike: that as you can
move eastward or westward, according as you choose
to set your face in the one direction or the other; so
it depends entirely on the determination of the will
.pn 312
in what department of effort you shall excel. But we
need scarcely remark that all children are not alike
precocious, and all adults are not alike capable of
learning and teaching. Original constitution, out of
which women as well as men are made, is infinitely
varied. As from a few elements the endless forms of
matter are built up, so out of different proportions of
mental and moral qualities the endless diversities of
human character are formed. In the world of matter,
an almost infinitesimally small portion of foreign
substance may quite alter the chemical character of a
compound; and in the world of mind, the smallest
excess or defect in any given faculty or feeling may
make all the difference between the best and the
worst, the dullest and the brightest, of mankind.
Some seem to have all the most characteristic elements
of greatness heaped upon their heads, or
intensified in their constitutions; and so they become
wonders to the world. Others have minds so obtuse
that none but the plainest elements of knowledge are
attainable by them, and souls so torpid that they are
never able to originate a poetic thought.
If we turn to external nature, we behold endless
diversity. How various the forms of animal life,
whether considered in existing species, or traced back
through endless ages to the first dawn of time! In
the mineral kingdom, what forms and hues may we
trace, from the diamonds of royal crowns down to
the rocks of the everlasting hills! So in the vegetable
domain. The weed flourishes in the bed of the sea—the
moss on the summits of our highland hills—the
lichen amidst the ice and snow of Nova Zembla—the
palm in India—the cedar in Lebanon—and the pine in
.pn 313
Norway. Shall not God’s resources find their
amplest illustration in His last and noblest work—humanity?
It is contrary to all analogy to expect
uniformity of faculty or temperament among the
human species. Be it observed, also, that as in the
animal kingdom, structure necessitates function and
habit; that as in the mineral kingdom there are fixed
laws which we cannot alter; and that as in the
vegetable kingdom nature determines her own
growths: so in the world of mind, in the formation
of character, while God permits moral agency, he
asserts His own sovereignty. We do not believe that
you are children of circumstances, as socialists and
fatalists affirm, so that your character is formed for
you, and not by you; still it would be the utmost
folly to deny that circumstances exercise a mighty
influence. As the storms affect the flight of the eagle
and the speed of the steam-ship, but do not determine
their course: so your original constitution influences
you, but does not necessarily determine your character.
.sp 2
.ce
FAMILY CIRCLE.
The discussions which have of late occupied the
public mind regarding the polemics of education,
have, we fear, had an injurious influence on the real
progress of education amongst us. Some tell us that
it is the bounden duty of the State to educate the
democracy; and others inform us that the Church of
the country is the proper instructress of the people.
Without attempting to expose by facts, or assail in
abstractions, the reasoning of these different classes,
we would remark, that in the world children have to
.pn 314
toil, to struggle, to resist, to endure—to labour long,
and to wait patiently for a distant and even, to a
certain extent, precarious result; and the school for
the kind of lore which fits for that is around the
domestic hearth.
A powerful influence is exerted by the family
circle, in the formation of character. While all real
formation must be self-formation, we cannot deny
the moulding agencies of home life. Indeed the
plastic power of home is so great as to be almost
appalling. Home society works on the very foundations
of character, and at no stage of life is social
influence so strong as in youth; and no influence is
so powerful as that of a mother over a daughter.
Whence issues that moral influence which, to the
tender mind, is paramount over all formal teaching?
Primarily and supremely from the mother. The
histories of all who have risen above the level of
their compeers, shows that the largest and most
potent share of influence lies with the mother. God’s
plan of reforming communities is to train families.
When an architect was asked how he built one of
the lofty chimneys which stud some parts of Lancashire,
he replied, “I built it up from within.”
Nations are built up in the same manner. The future
mothers of a people are the best protectresses of a
state from moral deteriorations. When every cottage
in our land shall be blest with a well educated female,
bearing the noble distinctions of wife, mother, and
Christian! we may hope that the vilest wanderer will
be reclaimed to the sweet bonds of household allegiance.
“How pleasing,” says Dr. Winter Hamilton,
.pn 315
“are the touches of domestic tenderness and order,
which some incidental passage, in a classical author
unfolds, as marking the Roman common life. We
are accustomed to think of it only in its severer
forms. We call up before our minds unrelenting
sternness and stoicism. But the parental character
was not despoiled of its nature. It was beheld in
the most ardent desire to train offspring for all social
duties. While it assiduously prepared them for the
state, it resigned not that business to it. Thus in
the Adelphi of Terence, the wit of Syrus does not
hide from us the paternal influence in education.
‘Ut quisque suum vult esse, ita est.’ Nor does the
weakness of Demea conceal the indefatigable earnestness
of that influence:—
.nf b
‘Nil prætermitto: consuefacio: denique,
Inspicere, tanquam in speculum, in vitas omnium
Jubeo, atque exallis sumere exemplum sibi.’
.nf-
.ti 0
An education not provided in this manner, an apparatus
set up independently of a popular choice and
control, can never be valued as it must be to be
availing.”
We gladly turn from the institutes of man to the
ordinances of God. In the laws of that religion by
which Jehovah reigned before His ancient people
gloriously, there is no enactment which dissolves
parental responsibility in the education of children;
and none which transfers it. He spake of the great
ancestor of that people the encomium which contained
the germ of their government: “For I know
him, that he will command his children and his
household after him, and they shall keep the way of
.pn 316
the law, to do justice and judgment.” This was to
be the rule of transmission. “Teach them thy sons
and thy sons’ sons.” “Thou shalt teach them diligently
unto thy children, and shalt talk of them
when thou sittest in thy house.” “He established a
testimony in Jacob, and appointed a law in Israel,
which he commanded our fathers, that they should
make them known to their children: that the generation
to come might know them, even the children
which should be born, who should arise and declare
them to their children.” Not less tender, distinct,
and authoritative is the Christian law: “Ye fathers,
provoke not your children to wrath: but bring them
up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.”
“Children, obey your parents in all things: for this
is well pleasing unto the Lord.” No one can
doubt that the Bible enjoins on parents the duty of
carefully training up their children, and of making
it the grand purpose of this life to prepare them for
heaven.
By a beautiful provision for keeping up the
healthy interaction of the social forces, when the
period of adolescence is reached, the sympathies burst
the boundary of the domestic circle, and, through
delicate and often inscrutable affinities, seek objects
of attachment in the outer world. The upper, the
middle, and the lower classes, for various reasons
must go out into society. That principles of character
can be imparted is one of the plainest doctrines
of the Bible, as well as one of the commonest facts
of human experience. For this express purpose, all
the educative agencies of home, the school, the platform,
the press, and the pulpit, have been instituted,
.pn 317
are kept in operation. The Christian Church was
formed by its Divine Head that all those to whom
His words are spirit and life, should impart them to
others. Christianity is a propagandist system, and
is designed to revolutionize not the opinions so much
as the ideas and motives of humanity. When we
look at hundreds of girls, in pairs and triads, engaged
in incessant and animated conversation; when
we think of the influences under which their characters
are forming, and remember that these characters,
in all probability, will last through life,—we almost
shrink back from the reflection, that here are the
mothers of the next generation! If there is contamination
here, the consequences are more disastrous
than we are able to compute. Mutual influence
is a law that embraces all worlds, pervades all the
kingdoms of nature, and reaches its climax in
humanity. All the elements and laws of the lower
kingdom are summed up here; and magnetism,
affinity, and gravitation find their spiritual archetypes
in the influence of mind on mind. The character is
like a piece of potter’s clay, which when fresh and
new, is easily fashioned according to the will of those
into whose hands it falls; but its form once given,
and hardened, either by the slow drying of time, or
by its passage through the ardent furnace of the
world, any one may break it to atoms, but never bend
it again to another mould.
To borrow the language of a writer in the Quarterly
Review: “However difficult it may be to account
philosophically for what is called national character—to
explain precisely in what it consists, or how
exactly it is formed—no one will venture to deny
.pn 318
that there is such a thing; some secret influence of
climate and soil, combining with the still more inexplicable
peculiarities of the races of men, and which
seems to a considerable degree independent even of
education or individual qualities. The steady English,
the wary Scotch, the testy Welsh, the volatile French,
the phlegmatic Dutch, the artistic Italian, the solemn
Spaniard,—all these are crowded into so small a space
of the earth’s surface as some twenty degrees of
latitude and longitude; and having most of the
essential circumstances of social influence common to
all, yet are each marked with a national stamp,
indelible in natives, and still frequently distinguishable
for two or three generations in families that have
migrated into other countries.” But although in
each of the great national circles of society, we find
characteristics which mark it out socially and morally
from others, we must not judge individuals nationally.
All the English are not freighted to the water
with stability; nor are all the Scotch remarkably
cautious; nor are the tempers of all the Welsh like
touchwood or tinder; nor are all the French frivolous;
nor are all the Dutch lazy; nor are all the Italians
painters; nor are all the Spaniards distinguished for
gravity. Still nations, as such, have their idiosyncrasies,
as attested by well authenticated history and
by present facts.
If we narrow the social circle, we find that where
association is closer, characteristics are more distinct.
Every religious denomination has its own features
clearly marked and firmly set. In every province,
city, and town, we see the influence of association in
the formation of character. It is illustrated in every
.pn 319
circle, from the kitchen of the maid-servant to the
throne of the British queen.
.sp 2
.ce
IMPARTATIVE AND RECEPTIVE ELEMENTS.
All are conscious of a desire to imbue others with
their sentiments. This ambition is always strong in
a mind of high intensity. It is the natural yearning
of active powers for appropriate activity—the mind’s
impulse to develope its energies and extend its
dominion. Minds that burn with the fire of genius,
or the nobler fires of zeal and love, cannot repress
their energies; but seek to distinguish themselves,
and to influence those with whom they come in contact.
There are magnetic souls that penetrate with
their looks, and inspire with their ideas. In all ages
and countries the gentler sex afford illustrations of a
desire to impart themselves and mould others.
What then are those elements,—those sources of
power and strength which are the vital mainsprings
in the formation of your character?
Imitation plays an important part in this great
work. The same passion that impels you to seek
society, impels you to take part with your companions
in their interests and inclinations. Insensibly you
fall into their customs and manners, adopt their
sentiments, their passions, and even their foibles.
This principle is especially active in children; hence
they love to mimic whatever strikes the organ of
sense; and soon as the young idea begins to shoot,
and the embryo of the character to appear, they form
themselves unconsciously after the similitude of those
with whom they converse. But for this their progress
.pn 320
would be very slow, and their conformity to persons
and things around them very slight. With this
faculty spontaneously active, how soon they learn to
talk, to adopt the peculiarities of others, and copy the
mechanical and other inventions! Now, women are
but children of larger growth, and are mightily influenced
by imitation. Follow, therefore, the example
of good women. As the moral virtues constitute the
highest order of human excellence and endowment,
copy them wherever you find them. Theatricals are
the legitimate product of imitation. Shall they be
patronized? Undoubtedly they might be so conducted
as to become a great public blessing; but as
they are at present managed, they are undoubtedly a
great curse. Still, those who deplore the influence of
the theatre should labour to correct it, rather than
seek to demolish it altogether; for it is founded on a
natural element of the human mind, and must live as
long as humanity exists. Destroyed it can never be,
any more than hunger or any other natural or legitimate
product of any other faculty. All that remains
is to sanctify and rightly wield its mighty power for
good. Nevertheless, we must express our unequivocal
disapproval of the theatre as now conducted, and
warn you especially against it.
There is in human nature a strong tendency to
sympathise with others in their modes of thought
and feeling. All know something about the readiness
with which the act of yawning is induced in a company
if a single person begins to yawn; the facility
with which hysterical convulsions are induced in a
female hospital ward by a single case; the fascination
of its prey by the serpent, apparently by the power of
.pn 321
the eyes; the similar power exerted by so-called
electro-biologists and mesmerists, and by which some
can control even the fiercest carnivora. Sympathy is
a mighty power, and may aid you mightily in the
formation of your character. In no country is it
more deeply felt than our own, where a free press,
free speech, and free association, are in full operation.
Just as matter has a tendency to conform to the temperature
of surrounding matter, so mind has a tendency
to cool or kindle with surrounding minds. An
effort to benefit others operates beneficially upon those
who put it forth; thus proving that people cannot be
made a blessing to others without enjoying an enlarged
blessing themselves. The great events of life, which
stir the deepest feelings of the human heart—birth,
marriage, death—occur in every household, lighting
up with a common joy, or involving in the shadow of
a common gloom, the palace and the cottage alike.
“One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.”
How near does our beloved queen seem to be to the
poorest widow in the land, now that, amid all the
pomp of her royalty and the splendour of her unrivalled
station, she is suffering from the painful sense
of her great bereavement. Moreover, the heart of the
country at once thrills with sympathy when tidings
are heard of some great disaster, that has brought
death to many, and desolation and misery to more;
though they may be the poorest of the poor, and
dwellers in some far-off land. It is not more true,
however, that we weep with those who weep, than
that we rejoice with those who rejoice. There is a
charm in general gladness that steals upon us without
our perceiving it; and if we have no cause of sorrow,
.pn 322
it is sufficient for our momentary happiness that we
be in the company of the happy.
We would now direct your attention to habit—one
of the most obvious and important elements in the
formation of character. Its influence is felt in every
sphere of your activity, its power extends to every
faculty of your nature, and affects your personal,
social, civil, and religious thought, feeling, and conduct.
The nature of habit may be considered in two
lights: first, an ease and excellence in doing a thing
from having done it frequently; and secondly, a disposition
to perform certain actions in the same way as
you have done them before. Habit is thus the specific
law of repetition. Dr. Reid explains the law of association
by that of habit, and thus ascribes the effect of
habit to a peculiar ultimate principle of the mind.
He says, “That the trains of thinking, which, by frequent
repetition, have become familiar, should spontaneously
offer themselves to our fancy, seems to require
no other original quality but the power of
habit.” To this error, which others have fallen into,
Sir W. Hamilton’s reply is unanswerable: “We can
as well explain habit by association, as association by
habit.” The first form of the influence of habit, then,
which we have to consider, is that by which it occasions
greater facility and skill in the performance of
particular actions. In the lower animals, habits arise
from the force of mere instinct, and, properly speaking,
are not acquired by repetition. The bee builds its
first cell, and gathers honey from the first flower, as
easily and as well as at any future period. The bird
selects the same material for its first nest that it
selects for its last, and constructs it in the same sort
.pn 323
of place, and of the same shape; and all as perfectly
and easily the first time as ever afterwards. The
beaver fells his first tree, and makes his first dam,
with as little difficulty and as much skill as in any
after period of his life. You have much more of reason
than of instinct, and consequently acquire habits by
repetition. Having chosen a certain course of action,
you find that as you proceed you get on better, and
that what was at first difficult, in course of time
becomes easy. The pianist, sweeping the keys of her
instrument, and emitting melodious notes and melting
harmony; the rope-dancer, performing her wondrous
feats, and keeping the exact point of equilibrium and
graceful attitude, are illustrations—not so much of
native talent, as of the degree to which habit may be
developed. The second kind of influence which habit
exercises, is a tendency to repeat the same actions
under the same circumstances. Dr. Brown thus illustrates
the power of indulged habit: “In the corruption
of a great city, it is scarcely possible to look
around, without perceiving some warning example of
that blasting and deadening influence, before which,
everything that was generous and benevolent in the
heart has withered, while everything which was
noxious has flourished with more rapid maturity;
like those plants which can extend their roots, indeed,
even in pure soil, and fling out a few leaves amid
balmy airs and odours, but which burst out in all
their luxuriance only from a soil that is fed with constant
putrescency, and in an atmosphere which it is
poison to inhale. It is not vice—not cold and insensible
and contented vice, that has never known any
better feelings—which we view with melancholy
.pn 324
regret. It is virtue—at least what was once virtue—that
has yielded progressively and silently to an
influence, scarcely perceived, till it has become the
very thing it abhorred. Nothing can be more just
than the picture of this sad progress described in
the well-known lines of Pope:
.nf b
‘Vice is a monster of so frightful mien,
As, to be hated, needs but to be seen;
Yet, seen too oft, familiar with her face,
We first endure, then pity, then embrace.’
.nf-
“In the slow progress of some insidious disease,
which is scarcely regarded by its cheerful and unconscious
victim, it is mournful to mark the smile of
gaiety as it plays over that very bloom, which is not
the freshness of health, but the flushing of approaching
mortality; amid studies, perhaps, just opening
into intellectual excellence, and hopes and plans of
generous ambition that are never to be fulfilled. But
how much more painful is it to behold that equally
insidious and far more desolating progress with
which guilty passion steals upon the heart, when
there is still sufficient virtue to feel remorse and to
sigh at the remembrance of purer years, but not sufficient
to throw off the guilt which is felt to be oppressive,
and to return to that purity in which it would
again, in its bitter moments, gladly take shelter, if
only it had energy to vanquish the almost irresistible
habits that would tear it back.
.nf b
‘Crimes lead to greater crimes, and link so straight,
What first was accident, at last is fate:
The unhappy servant sinks into a slave,
And virtue’s last sad strugglings cannot save.’
.nf-
.pn 325
“We must not conceive, however, that habit is
powerful only in strengthening what is evil—though
it is this sort of operation which, of course, forces
itself more upon our observation and memory, like
the noontide darkness of the tempest, that is remembered
when the calm and the sunshine and the gentle
shower are forgotten. There can be no question that
the same principle which confirms and aggravates
what is evil, strengthens and cherishes also what is
good. The virtuous, indeed, do not require the influence
of habitual benevolence or devotion to force
them, as it were, to new acts of kindness to man, or
to new sentiments of gratitude to God. But the
temptations to which even virtue might sometimes be
in danger of yielding, in the commencement of its
delightful progress, become powerless and free from
peril when that progress is more advanced. There
are spirits which, even on earth, are elevated above
that little scene of mortal ambition with which their
benevolent wishes for the sufferers there are the single
tie that connects them still. All with them is serenity;
the darkness and the storm are beneath them.
They have only to look down with generous sympathy
on those who have not yet risen so high; and
to look up with gratitude to that heaven which is
above their head, and which is almost opening to receive
them.” You must form habits of one kind or
another; but you can choose what your habits are to
be. We rejoice that at the present time there is
much to cheer and encourage. Reformatories, the
extension of education among the lower classes,
Sunday schools, cheap and healthy literature, interesting
lectures on instructive themes addressed to the
.pn 326
million—all these are centres whence radiate powerful
aids to the formation of great and noble character.
.sp 2
.ce
TWOFOLD OPERATION OF MIND.
The incontestable, although inexplicable, deliverance
of consciousness is, that there are two great
movements which take place within the mind—the
one spontaneous, and the other reflex; the one movement
prompted only by the native activity of the
mind itself, and the other the movement of the will.
Now, those who push their phrenology into materialism,
having discovered that the tendencies to peculiar
modes of thought and peculiar modes of action are
to some extent dependent upon bodily organization,
are not slow to tell us that their characters are formed
for them, not by them. But this reasoning completely
overlooks the fact that they have got a rational will,
armed with complete power to control and regulate
these tendencies; therefore it is altogether illogical.
Even were we to admit that the mental spontaneity is
directly influenced by the bodily organization, the
asserted consequence would by no means follow. For
just as the farmer can plough and sow and harrow, and
thus subordinate the spontaneity of nature, and direct
that power into the useful channel of producing food,
instead of the useless channel of producing briers and
thorns, so you can modify, control, and regulate the
spontaneity of the mind. Experience teaches you
that you can break the threads of the web of thought,
arrest the procession of the grand and beautiful, and
throw discord into harmony: and where power exists,
there exists responsibility.
.pn 327
We say, then, that in the concession we have made
of a spontaneity directly influenced by material organization,
there is no proof whatever that you are
not accountable both for your belief and your actions;
because consciousness teaches you that above and
beyond every such influence there presides reason,
and there exists a will. This important subject is
most admirably discussed in a small pamphlet by
Professor Martin, of Aberdeen, entitled, “Creed and
Circumstance.” To adopt the well-chosen words of
the professor: “May the day soon come when it shall
be deemed of as great importance to the wellbeing of
society that the laws of that chemistry, of which the
human mind is the laboratory, shall be the subject of
instruction, as the laws of that other chemistry whose
laboratory is the world. Enough, however, is it for
us at present, that in the domain, both of the material
and the mental, there is ample scope for the
highest energies and the most enlightened reason.”
It is peculiarly desirable that this subject be insisted
upon. The work of individual self-formation is a duty
not only to yourselves and your immediate relations,
but to your fellow-creatures at large. On the use
you make of your early energies; the conduct of your
intellect, when it is capable of the most vigorous
action; the discipline of your heart, when it is susceptible
of the most lively impressions, will mainly
depend what you shall henceforth be. This will
involve much sacrifice, yea, lifelong struggle; yet we
venture to press the demand. Should you never rise
higher in society, you have already gained an honoured
and holy position. You carry with you a blessed
charm to lighten toil, to assuage affliction, to purify
.pn 328
attachment, to conquer death. Yon have trained
yourself in the way in which you should go, and when
you are old you will not depart from it. Sisters,
have you courage for the conflict? For in the
Divine order, fighting precedes victory, and labour
goes before reward.
.nf b
“’Tis first the true, and then the beautiful;
Not first the beautiful, and then the true;
First the wild moor, with rock and reed and pool;
Then the gay garden, rich in scent and hue.
’Tis first the good, and then the beautiful;
Not first the beautiful, and then the good;
First the rough seed, sown in the rougher soil,
Then the flower-blossom, and the branching wood.
Not first the glad, and then the sorrowful;
But first the sorrowful, and then the glad;
Tears for a day—for earth of tears is full—
Then we forget that we were ever sad.
’Tis first the fight, and then the victory;
Not first the victory, and then the fight;
The long dark night, and then the dawning day,
Which ushers in the everlasting light.”
.nf-
.pn 329
.sp 4
.h2 id=ch09
CHAPTER IX.||Natural Equality of the Sexes.
“Without intending a silly compliment, I think I may say, if
you look at the two sexes and ask which is the best product, and
does the most credit to its own training, he would be a bold person
who would say it was the male sex.”
.rj
Professor Seeley.
.sp 2
.ce
DIFFERENCE AND SIMILARITY.
Whether woman’s powers are equal to those of
man seems to us hardly to admit of discussion. The
proper question is not one of equality but of adaptation.
In the very nature of things, between the two
sexes there is a difference as well as a similarity. It
was not good for man to be alone, therefore God provided
an help meet for him. The one sex is the compliment
of the other. “Man and woman,” to adopt
the language of Dr. Craik, “are fitted the one for the
other as much by their difference as by their similarity.
The parts which they have to act, the spheres
in which they have to move, are as distinct in some
respects as they are identical. Of all false social
philosophies, that is the blindest and shallowest which
overlooks or denies this, and would seek to improve
the character or elevate the condition of women by
making them, as far as possible, exchange their own
proper character for that of the other sex.” The
functions, the occupations, and consequent duties of
.pn 330
man and woman grow out of their bodily and mental
structures. Each sex is perfect for its purpose; and
when the one encroaches on the other, inferiority,
incongruity, and antagonism is the result. What
so odious as a masculine woman? What so contemptible
as a feminine man? Alas! both are frequently
met in the world.
Woman’s claim to entire equality with man cannot
on any pretence be made to rest on the word of God.
Some writers beg the question, and insist that woman
should be treated by man as she is by God: in all
respects equal. But the Scriptures do not teach that
the sexes are in all respects equal; nor from the
earliest ages, down to the hour when John laid by
the pen, and closed the book, is there the slightest
intimation that the two sexes may not have peculiar
privileges and duties. By declaring the essential
unity of the sexes, the Bible bestows supreme honour
upon woman, while shedding a dew, tender as the
blessing of God upon her affectional nature. In matters
of conscience there is no sex; consequently in the
discharge of the duties of piety each is equally capacitated,
and therefore equally responsible. Love on the
part of husbands is made as binding as obedience on
the part of wives; and where love rules, instead of
heartless ministrations, there are affectionate assiduities,
ingenious anticipation of wishes, and noble
self-sacrifices.
Woman is certainly not inferior to man, but the
difference between them is as evident as the similarity;
and only by carrying out their joint action in
accordance with their inherent powers and susceptibilities
can the human race really be benefited. It
.pn 331
is only a waste of time to tell us that woman can do
many things quite as well as man can,—that there
are many public occupations which she could fill as
well as he,—that were she properly educated, it would
be seen that man had no natural superiority over her
except in physical strength. All that may be true.
Our argument is, that while woman, in consequence
of her more pliable nature, may be able to do man’s
work as well as he can, it is certain that he cannot do
her work so well as she can; and therefore the body
politic would suffer loss were the sexes generally to
exchange places.
.sp 2
.ce
POLITICAL EQUALITY.
The question of the proper position of woman in
regard to politics has become one of general interest.
It lies in our way, and demands to be dealt with.
We cannot now ridicule the idea of putting legal
power into her hands, and as little can we discuss it
superficially, for that were all the same as to discuss
it unfaithfully. It is therefore matter of congratulation
that John Stuart Mill, one of the intellectual
élite, alike as a metaphysician, a logician, a moralist,
and a politician, has taken up this subject, and carried
his inquiry into somewhat wider and deeper relations
than men in general, or even women, with a few
exceptions, have been accustomed to regard it as
involving. Several years ago, when acknowledging
a vote of thanks from the reformers of York, Mr.
Mill, M.P., took the opportunity of showing them the
legitimate consequences of one of the principles which
they had laid down in public resolutions. “It is unjust,”
.pn 332
they had maintained, “that the great bulk of
the nation should be held amenable to laws in the
making of which they had no voice.” Mark the inference
of the great thinker from this proposition.
“It cannot stop at residential manhood suffrage; but
requires that the suffrage be extended to women
also:” and then he adds, “I earnestly hope that the
working men of England will show the sincerity of
their principles by being willing to carry them out,
when urged, in favour of others besides themselves.”
This logical deduction reminds us of Ann Knight’s
retort upon the late Joseph Sturge. Happening to
meet that excellent man at a time when his name
was prominently before the public in connection with
the demand for “complete suffrage,” she thus accosted
him: “Friend Joseph, art thou aware of thine inconsistency?
Thou talkest of complete suffrage. Canst
thou be thinking of what the words imply? Dost
thou not know that women are more numerous in
our nation than men?” “Yes, friend Ann,” he answered;
“I believe thou art right.” “Well, then,
friend Joseph,” she replied, “how can the suffrage
be complete when withheld from the larger portion
of the community?” Friend Joseph was obliged to
own himself beaten; and this amusing colloquy led
to the substitution of “manhood” for “complete” in
the suffrage programme of Mr. Sturge and the Reform
party which he then led.
In asking, in sober form and phrase, for the enfranchisement
of women, the late member for Westminster,
is quite aware of the difficulties of his position.
In every respect the burden is hard on those who
attack an old and deeply rooted opinion. The common
.pn 333
rules of evidence will not benefit them. In his
recent work on the “Subjection of Women,” Mr.
Mill says:—“It is useless for me to say that those
who maintain the doctrine that men have a right to
command, and women are under an obligation to obey;
or that men are fit for government and women unfit;
are on the affirmative side of the question, and that
they are bound to show positive evidence for the assertions,
or submit to their rejection. It is equally
unavailing for me to say that those who deny to
women any freedom or privilege rightly allowed to
men, having the double presumption against them
that they are opposing freedom and recommending
partiality, must be held to the strictest proof of their
case; and unless their success be such as to exclude
all doubt, the judgment ought to be against them.
These would be thought good pleas in any common
case, but they will not be thought so in this instance.
Before I could hope to make any impression, I should
be expected not only to answer all that has ever been
said by those who take the other side of the question,
but to imagine all that could be said by them—to find
them in reasons, as well as answer all I find; and besides
refuting all arguments for the affirmative, I shall
be called upon for invincible positive arguments to
prove a negative.” Many views expressed in this
volume lie far apart from the thinking of ordinary
intellects, but they must become familiar before life
can be purified at its fountain. Is it creditable to
English justice that women should be classed for
electoral purposes with idiots, lunatics, and criminals?
Nay, women are placed lower than the latter; for the
House of Commons has deliberately resolved not to
.pn 334
disfranchise felons permanently, on the ground that a
citizen ought not to bear for life the brand of political
disqualification. The principle which we so often
hear enunciated in the epigrammatic form “that taxation
and representation should be co-extensive,”
logically covers the claim of women to be represented.
All history teaches that women must have votes, in
order to protect their own interests. In the words of
Lord Macaulay: “Even in those countries where they
are best treated, the laws are generally unfavourable
to them, with respect to almost all the points in which
they are the most deeply interested.” Lord Brougham
said: “There must be a total reconstruction of the
law, before women can have justice.” But we are
told that the worst evils from which women suffer
cannot be cured by legislation. Government can certainly
give them the equal heritage, protection, and
bequest of property; it can give them a Christian
marriage law, instead of visiting matrimony with the
same punishment as high treason—namely, confiscation;
it can throw open to them the existing universities,
or endow others to give them the high education
that men value; it can restore to them the schools
and institutions destined by their founders for girls as
well as boys, but which are now used for boys only;
it can distribute the public funds equally for the good
of both sexes; it can make restrictions on the productiveness
of female labour illegal. Concerning the
evils which legislation cannot cure, women are making
no public complaint.
The objections to female suffrage are various. In
an article in the Times, it is said: “There exists, as it
were, a tacit concordat guaranteeing to the weaker
.pn 335
sex the protection and deference of the stronger, upon
one condition only: that condition is the political
dependence of women.” Now, we admit that women
have no physical power to enforce the suffrage; and
if the state is to be measured by might, they will
occupy the bottom of the scale. But the rights of
women do not depend upon their physical strength,
but flow from the prevailing sense of justice; and
justice means that the interests of women be consulted
with as much impartiality as the interests of men.
Another objection to the enfranchisement of women
is, that politics would withdraw them from their proper
duties. This apprehension is not well founded.
It is quite possible to unite an interest in politics
with attention to a family. In our free churches
women vote equally with men, and this privilege has
largely contributed to the success of the voluntary
system. Moreover, women, if they have the same
qualifications as men, have votes at municipal elections.
We are almost ashamed to refer to the stock
arguments upon this subject. They are about as
weighty as those recently employed against the enfranchisement
of the working classes. Women, in
general, may know less of politics than men; but
educated women are surely not far behind many of
the new voters in political knowledge. We all know
hundreds of women who are far more competent to
exercise the franchise than thousands already on the
register. Those who oppose the concession of the
suffrage to women, are astonishingly inconsistent.
In one sentence they speak of the difference of sex as
something which ought to exclude them from any
share in the political workings of the world—something
.pn 336
affecting all their thoughts and impulses and
actions, and making it right to keep votes from them
simply on the ground that they are women. In
another sentence we are told that this accident of sex
affects the female nature and career so lightly, that if
they were permitted to go to the polling booth they
would become unsexed. Now, whether either or
neither of these positions be tenable, we submit that
it is impossible to sustain them both, and we believe
that neither is true. It is said that the claim of
political action argues capacity for civil duty, ability
to serve the state in the jury-box, in the police, in the
camp, in the battle-fields, in port-surveys and defences,
and in a routine of official duties that suffer no intermission.
But the state does not compel men to fulfil
personally its demands on civil organization; it hires
men for these purposes, and women contribute as well
as men to the exchequer for their payment.
It is said, however, that women have not cared in
the past, and do not now care for political equality.
Have they ever been consulted? A large number
believe that there is historical evidence that women
have voted at parliamentary elections, both in counties
and boroughs, and are striving to return to the
ancient constitutional practice of Great Britain. They
have been too wise to keep perpetually dwelling on
an inquiry which, until lately, seemed utterly hopeless
of redress; and too proud and sensitive to betray the
existence of a feeling which only exposed them to the
sneers and ridicule of the unthinking. But as soon
as the House of Commons showed signs of admitting
them within the pale of the constitution, the women
of Great Britain began to prove that they did care
.pn 337
for their political rights. Recently, a petition from
Edinburgh in favour of women’s suffrage was presented
by Mr. McLaren, signed by upwards of 800
female householders. A supplementary petition, followed
soon after to the same effect, signed by eight
university professors, six doctors of law, eighteen
clergymen, eight barristers, ten physicians, ten officers
in the army and navy, and upwards of 2000 other
inhabitants. Colonel Sykes also presented 185 petitions
from independent women in Aberdeen. A petition
adopted by a public meeting held in Aberdeen,
and signed by Professor Bain as chairman, was also
transmitted to the Prime Minister, the Lord Advocate,
and the members for the city and county of Aberdeen;
praying the Honourable the Commons of the United
Kingdom, to pass the bill entitled, “A Bill to Remove
the Electoral Disabilities of Women.” In 1867,
3000 women of Manchester and the surrounding
districts signed a petition asking for the franchise.
On the evening of the 14th of April, 1868, a meeting
in connection with the National Society for Women’s
Suffrage, was held in the same city, in the assembly
room of the Free-trade Hall, the Mayor of Salford
presiding. On the platform were a number of ladies,
whose appearance was the signal for loud and repeated
applause. Several of the most prominent leaders of
the Reform party were similarly welcomed. Letters
containing expressions of regret at the inability of the
writers to attend the meeting, and of sympathy with
its objects, were received from many eminent men
and women. A number of women possessing the
requisite qualifications have claimed their place on
the register; and the question was tried in November,
.pn 338
1868, in banquo, at Westminster, by the Court of
Common Pleas. The judges decided against them;
but they resolved that in 1869, a petition should be
presented from every important town in England and
Wales, praying for an alteration of the present law;
and Lady Amberley, Mrs. Fawcett, Miss Becker, Miss
Faithful, and Miss Taylour, intend to continue their
lectures on the electoral disabilities of their sex, till
the British people be a nation of free women as well
as of free men.
Mr. Mill’s motion for the bestowal of the franchise
upon women occasioned a good deal of silly giggling:—
.nf b
“Fools have still an itching to deride,
And fain would be upon the laughing side.”
.nf-
.ti 0
But it seldom happens that a really able man makes
a proposal that is entirely devoid of sense and reason;
and we are glad that a minority of seventy-three were
found in the House gallant enough to vote for the
motion. The member for Westminster did not ask a
vote for any woman whose legal personality was even
partially merged in that of another. Neither married
women, whose husbands are in life, nor domestic servants,
would be admitted by him to the franchise.
But if a woman is a householder, managing her own
affairs, paying her way, liable to every tax, and faultless
in every civil capacity; where is the person of
intelligence who will dare to pronounce Mr. Mill’s
proposal absurd? On the 4th of May, 1870, Mr.
Jacob Bright moved the second reading of the bill
for the enfranchisement of women, and adduced his
best arguments to prove that widows and spinsters
should have votes. By a majority of thirty-three
.pn 339
votes, in a house of 215 members, the women carried
the day; and the bill was read a second time amid
loud cheers. This in future will be an important
subject between constituencies and candidates; and
we have little doubt that in the course of a few years
the British parliament will know nothing of the distinctions
of strong and weak, male and female, rich
and poor. Why should women be excluded by law
from doing the very things for which they are peculiarly
qualified? Had Queen Elizabeth and Queen
Victoria not inherited the throne, they could not have
been entrusted with the smallest political duties!
The former was one of the most eminent rulers of
mankind; and the vocation of the latter for government
has made its way, and become conspicuous.
Happy will be the day in our country—happy will be
the day throughout the world—when woman stands
in this respect, as well as in others, a help meet for
man!
.sp 2
.ce
SOCIAL EQUALITY.
God has planted in every breast a passion for congenial
society, and made its wholesome play essential
for the fulness of happiness; but depraved passions
have rendered the claims and duties of both sexes
ambiguous, and disarranged the harmonies of the
first creation. As society becomes corrupt, power
assumes authority over weakness; and they who
ought to help, begin to hinder. Upon this principle
women have been held in a state of social degradation
in all countries in which Christianity has been
wholly unknown. The Egyptians decreed it to be
.pn 340
indecent in women to go abroad without shoes, and
threatened with death any one who should make
shoes for them. Among Celtic nations, the labours
of the field, as well as domestic toil, devolved
on the women; which evidently originated in the
general impression of their inferiority in the scale of
existence. The domestic life of the Greeks exhibit
unquestionable evidences of barbarity in the treatment
of women. At no time were they entrusted
with any knowledge of their husbands’ affairs, and
they were totally excluded from mixed society. According
to the laws of the Romans, the wife was in
servitude; though she had in name the rights of a
citizen. In savage, superstitious, and Mahometan
countries, the condition of females justifies the exclamation
of an ancient philosopher, who thanked
God that he was born a man and not a woman.
It is evident that the social condition of women,
destitute of the light of revelation, is inferior to that
of men. But under the influence of even a precursory
and imperfect system of the true religion, their glory
emerges partially to view. Still under the Jewish
theocracy, the Levitical law appointed a variety of
regulations which evinced their imperfect emancipation
from social inferiority. Polygamy and concubinage
prevailed even in pious families in these olden
times. The doctrine of vows, also, in the case of
daughters, wives, and widows, proves the subordination
of the female sex. It is Christianity that has
raised women above the state of barbaric degradation,
Mahometan slavery, and Jewish subjection, and assigned
to them their proper place in society.
While the religion of Jesus elevates women to
.pn 341
great consideration in the social scale, it imposes a
salutary restraint upon human passions, and checks
every approach to the assumption of an unnatural
superiority. Its principles allow neither the barbaric
treatment of uncivilized nations, nor the follies of the
chivalrous ages. The great principles of Christianity
secure to women, as an unquestionable right, equality
with men. “Let every one of you so love his wife as
himself; and the wife see that she reverence her husband.”
Paley writes, “The manners of different
countries have varied in nothing more than in their
domestic constitutions. Less polished and more luxurious
nations have either not perceived the bad effects of
polygamy; or, if they did perceive them, they who in
such countries possessed the power of reforming the
laws, have been unwilling to resign their own gratification.”
In all Christian countries, polygamy is
universally prohibited; and the marriage of a second
wife during the lifetime of the first, is ranked with
the most dangerous and cruel of those frauds by
which a woman is cheated out of her fortune, her
person, and her happiness. In the early days of the
generation which is fast fading away from among us,
as in that which immediately preceded it, we know
that the education of women, if bestowed at all, was
confined to the shallowest acquirements and the most
superficial of accomplishments. In courtly circles,
a few external graces, and a sufficient acquaintance
with polite phraseology were enough to constitute the
woman of refinement. That woman is slowly making
her way into freer life is evinced by the fact that professed
authorship does not involve loss of caste in
society. Many widely known as writers, were placed
.pn 342
in the genteel ranks of society by birth; but are universally
regarded with increased respect, because they
have enlarged their bounds of usefulness, to strengthen
and refresh thousands of minds.
.sp 2
.ce
INTELLECTUAL EQUALITY.
Phrenologists affirm that the female head does not
measure so much round as the male; neither is it so
wide, so high, nor so long. On the other hand, many
authorities, English and foreign, say that the brains
of women are larger than those of men in proportion
to the size of their bodies, while their temperaments
are more nervous and sensitive; hence female mental
inferiority would be a hasty generalization; for
although the brain is the intellectual organ, size is
not the only measure of power. Woman, like man,
was created perfect; but the powers of her mind are
essentially different from those of man. The male
intellect is logical and judicious, while that of the
female is instructive and emotional. “They are one
in the warp and woof of their mental nature; but the
interwoven threads are in bulk so differently proportioned
in the two, that they differ very considerably
in superficial colour and finish.” The theory that the
strong, or male mind, prefers the weak, or female
mind, in its hours of leisure, is contradicted by
experience. Poets, philosophers, and orators, prefer
the fellowship of kindred souls. On the same principle,
clever men naturally court the society of clever
women. A creature of inferior mental powers would
not be a help meet for man.
Who have a better right to speak to this theme
.pn 343
than teachers of youth? Their vocation leads them
to see boys and girls studying the same subjects, and
they are pretty unanimous in their opinion that the
memories, perceptions, and understandings of girls
are quite equal to those of boys. Plato was of
opinion that males had no superiority over females,
except in physical strength. Dugald Stewart was of
the same opinion, and ascribed the difference in the
sexes to education. Several of the school inspectors
in England and Scotland report that they found the
capabilities of the girls as good in general as those
of boys; that although part of the school-day was
devoted rightfully to needlework, they made as much
progress as lads of the same amount of training when
taught by the same masters. Of the six ladies who
attended the separate classes for women authorized
by the university of Edinburgh, five were found in
the prize list—one, Miss Pechey, received a bronze
medal, and ought to have been a Hope scholar; Miss
Blake, got a first-class certificate of merit; while Mrs.
Masson, Mrs. Thorn, and Miss Chaplin, have certificates
of merits of second-class. The Aberdeen lady
students’ classes were organized late last year. The
lecturers were Mr. M’Bain, formerly Assistant-Professor
of Greek in the university, and Dr. Beveridge—both
eminently qualified; and the subjects undertaken,
were English Literature and Chemistry, and
Experimental Physics. From an address delivered
by M. Krueger, we notice that eight ladies attended
the first of these classes, and eleven the second, and
that the students are highly spoken of alike for attention
and ability. The past session, especially seeing
it may be regarded as merely experimental, having
.pn 344
been thus successful, it is hoped that in future there
will be a larger number of students, and that other
subjects of study besides those already engaged in
may get encouragement. We are informed that at
the examination of Mr. M’Bain’s class, Miss Sherar
obtained the highest certificate. At the examinations
of the Metropolitan University, females have demonstrated
the possession of acquirements sufficient to
procure them high honours at the elder seats of
learning on the banks of the Isis and the Cam.
These facts ought to make us pause before condemning
Sidney Smith for claiming, in the pages of
the Edinburgh Review, perfect equality in mental
endowment for women. “As long as boys and girls
run about in the dirt and trundle hoops together,
they are both precisely alike. If you catch up one-half
of these creatures and train them to a particular
set of actions and opinions, and the other half to a
perfectly opposite set, of course their understandings
will differ as one or the other sort of occupation has
called this or that talent into action; there is surely,
therefore, no occasion to go into any deeper or more
abstruse reasoning in order to explain so very simple
a phenomenon.”
What is there in science, literature, or art, which
the genius of woman cannot accomplish? If we
have had starry sons of science, we have had starry
daughters too. Not only has woman lifted the
telescope, but she has lifted the pen, and written
treatises of great learning and originality. “The
Mechanism of the Heavens” and “The Connection
of the Physical Sciences,” by Mrs. Somerville, would
not have disgraced the pen of Sir Isaac Newton.
.pn 345
We have had chemistry represented by Mrs. Marcet,
and botany by Mrs. Loudon. Woman has risen to
eminence in divinity. Miss Jane Taylor was
thoroughly acquainted with that science. Medicine
has had its female students. In early times, and also
in the middle ages, female physicians and surgeons
were as common as male; and sometimes the patient
got enamoured of his doctor:—
.nf b
“No art the poison could withstand;
No medicine could be found,
Till lovely Isolde’s lily hand
Had probed the rankling wound.
With gentle hand and soothing tongue,
She bore the leech’s part;
And while she o’er his sick-bed hung,
He paid her with his heart.”
.nf-
Miss Garrett, finding that she could be admitted by
the Society of Apothecaries to the medical profession,
qualified herself for practice. But the society discovering
that her example was likely to be contagious,
at once shut the door. Miss Garrett is now an M.D.
of the University of Paris. Nine ladies in New York
and five in Boston have recently graduated at medical
colleges as physicians. One of the professors of the
New York College stated that there are in America
300 women practising medicine whose professional
incomes range at from 10,000 to 20,000 dollars per
annum. The thorny science of the law has also been
a female study. The Roman Hortensia, seems to have
been rather an eloquent pleader than a consummate
lawyer; but several Italian women of the middle ages
were renowned as jurists. Contrary to expectation,
the mechanical and mathematical sciences are those
.pn 346
in which woman has most distinguished herself. The
least gallant of critics are now compelled to admit
that female authorship has taken up a full and conspicuous
place in literature. If three hundred years
ago, Ariosto could write with more than poetic truth,
his well known stanzas commencing with the words—
.nf b
“Le donne sono venute in eccellenza,
Di ciascun arte ove hanno posto cura”—
.nf-
.ti 0
with how much greater truth might the affirmative
be repeated amidst the blaze of female talent, by
which the present century is signalised! Not to go
beyond the limits of our own land, we have had delineations
of life worthy of Cervantes and Le Sage, of
Fielding and Smollett, but traced with faultless purity,
from that great school of writers in which the names
of Miss Edgeworth, Miss Austen, Mrs. Hall, Mrs.
Gaskell, Mrs. Hamilton, Mrs. Oliphant, George Eliot,
and Miss Mulock, are only some of the most conspicuous.
Joanna Bailey and Miss Mitford have
given tragedies to the stage which would have gained
a rich harvest of golden opinions in the days of
Massinger and Ford. In lyric poetry, we have Miss
Landon, the Hon. Mrs. Norton, and Mary Howitt. Miss
Martineau has made the most practical and unimaginative
of studies, political economy, as attractive as
the most interesting fictions of romance. In art,
woman holds a distinguished place. She can dip her
pencil in hues borrowed from the rainbow, and transfer
her genius to canvas. The master works of
Landseer are more than rivalled by Rosa Bonheur;
and Mrs. Jameson is the best art-critic England has
ever produced. Till recently, women could be
.pn 347
Associates of the Royal Academy; but they were
distinguishing themselves, and to the burning disgrace
of the Academy, the privilege was taken from
them. Do the Academicians know of what sex were
the Muses and the Graces?
“Woman sister,” says Thomas de Quincey, “there
are some things which you do not execute as well as
your brother man. No, nor never will. Pardon me,
if I doubt whether you will ever produce a great poet
from your choirs, or a Mozart, or a Phidias, or a
Michael Angelo, or a great philosopher, or a great
scholar. By which last is meant, not one who
depends simply on an infinite memory, but also on
an infinite and electrical power of combination;
bringing together from the four winds, like the angel
of the resurrection, what else were dust from dead
men’s bones, into the unity of breathing life. If you
can create yourselves into any of these great creators,
why have you not?”
This passage is not true. Whatever man may perform,
woman taken out of his side may equal. Right
truly has Ebenezer Elliott, a sincere and energetic, if
not graceful bard, sung:—
.nf b
“What highest prize hath woman won
In science or in art?
What mightiest work by woman done
Boasts city, field, or mart?
‘She hath no Raphael!’ Painting saith;
‘No Newton!’ Learning cries.
‘Show us her steamship! her Macbeth!
Her thought-won victories!’
Wait, boastful man! though worthy are
Thy deeds, when thou are true,
.pn 348
Things worthier still, and holier far,
Our sister yet will do;
For this the worth of woman shows
On every peopled shore,
That still as man in wisdom grows,
He honours her the more.
Oh, not for wealth, or fame, or power,
Hath man’s meek angel striven;
But, silent as the growing flower,
To make of earth a heaven!
And in her garden of the sun,
Heaven’s brightest rose shall bloom;
For woman’s best is unbegun,
Her advent yet to come.”
.nf-
Miss Becker, of Manchester, in a paper on some
supposed differences in the minds of men and women,
read before the British Association for the Advancement
of Science, in Norwich, August 25, 1868, submits
the three following propositions:—“I. That the
attribute of sex does not extend to mind: that there
is no distinction between the intellects of men and
women, corresponding to and dependent on the special
organization of their bodies. II. That any broad
marks of distinction which may at the present time
be observed to exist between the minds of men and
women collectively, are fairly traceable to the influence
of the different circumstances under which they
pass their lives, and cannot be proved to adhere in
each class, in virtue of sex. III. That in spite of the
external circumstances which tend to cause divergence
in the tone of mind, habits of thought, and opinions
of men and women; it is a matter of fact that these do
not differ more among persons of opposite sexes than
they do among persons of the same; that comparing
.pn 349
any one man with any one woman, or any class of
men with any class of women, the difference between
their mental characteristics will not be greater than
may be found between two individuals or classes,
compared with others of the same sex.”
.sp 2
.ce
MORAL EQUALITY.
The capacity for goodness is greater and nobler
than the ability to acquire knowledge; and it is almost
universally admitted that woman is more largely
endowed with the lofty moral sense and the generous
affection from which all true greatness springs, than
man. Intellectual glory cannot compare with the
moral halo that gilds the following picture: “Take
a woman who is possessed of a large intellect, say—but
intellect well disciplined, well stored—gifted with
mind, and graced with its specific piety, whose chief
delight it is to do kind deeds to those beloved. Her
life is poured out like the fair light of heaven around
the bedside of the sick; she becomes like a last sacrament
to the dying man, bringing back a reminiscence
of the best things of mortal life, and giving a foretasted
prophecy of the joys of heaven—her very
presence an alabaster box of ointment exceeding
precious, filling the house with its balm of a thousand
flowers. Her love adorns the path in which she
teaches youthful feet to tread, and blooms in amaranthine
loveliness above the head laid low in earth.
She would feel insulted by gratitude. God can give
no greater joy to mortal men than the consciousness
whence such a life wells out. Not content with
blessing the few whom friendship joins to her, her
.pn 350
love enlarges and runs over the side of the private
cup, and fills the bowl of many a needy and forsaken
one. Oh, in the presence of such affection as this,
the intellect of Plato would be abashed, and say,—‘Stand
back, my soul, for here is something holier
than thou. In sight of such excellence, I am ashamed
of intellect; I would not look upon the greatest that
ever spoke to ages yet unborn.’”
We cannot but feel that the eloquent author was
right in making the embodiment of such goodness a
woman; for under all conditions, from the lowest
barbarism to the highest civilization, her sense of
right is conspicuous, and her generous affection is
proverbial. Both in Latin and Greek almost every
moral excellence is expressed by nouns in the feminine
gender. Virtus, Sophia, Fides, Justitia, and Charitas,
are examples. Some are of opinion that there was
much philosophy in the mythology of the ancients;
but, be this as it may, it is certain that in nearly all
languages the virtues, when personified, are spoken
of in the feminine gender; intimating that the
nature of woman is pre-eminently adapted for their
exemplification.
“Perhaps,” says William M’Combie, in his “Hours
of Thought,” “if we would see moral elevation apart,
as far as possible, from all earthly excitements, we
must leave the halls of riches, and the possessors of
high intellectual endowments, and enter the dwelling
of the lonely female of threescore years and ten, whose
‘acquaintances’ have gone down into ‘darkness,’—who
has outlived all that were dearest to her heart on
earth. We shall, perhaps, find her sitting in a corner
of her confined apartment, scarcely visible amidst
.pn 351
smoke, distressed with disease, or suffering under
acute pain, with only the literal ‘bread’ and ‘water,’
which the word of God hath made sure. Yet the
language of thankfulness is on her tongue, and her
countenance brightens with contentment as if lighted
by a ray from heaven; the withdrawment of earthly
comforts and cares seem to have opened a wider
entrance for the heavenly consolation; and her distresses
and her pains only impel her forward in her
journey to the celestial city. In the want of earthly
associates, she enjoys more intimate communion with
her God, and the ineffably animating language of the
Saviour has become, as it were, an element of her
mind.” “These things have I spoken unto you, that
in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall
have tribulation, but be of good cheer; I have
overcome the world.”
.sp 2
.ce
RELIGIOUS EQUALITY.
The capacity for religion is the highest part of
human nature, and the qualities which constitute
religion, the noblest which it is possible to cultivate.
If the choice were possible, that to-morrow every
woman and maiden should become worthy of being
associated with those splendid intellects, some few
score of which have done the main part of the work
of thinking for the rest of the world; or else should
become unchangeably and fearlessly religious,—would
any true and wise lover of his country for a moment
hesitate to choose the latter? Can there be any doubt
which would contribute most to the happiness, and in
the end, to the honour, greatness, and security of the
world.
.pn 352
In the most explicit terms, the sacred writers affirm
that neither the male nor the female have any peculiar
claims or advantages in regard to religion. Both
sexes are alike sinners, and are alike saved by grace.
Christianity smites pride to the dust, by proclaiming
that the human family have a common origin, and
esteems them all to be equal in the matter of salvation.
At the foot of the Cross, at the communion
table, and in heaven, there is neither male nor female.
The personal conduct of the Divine author of Christianity
tended to elevate the female sex to a degree of
consideration in society unknown before. Jesus was
present at the marriage of Cana of Galilee, conversed
with the Samaritan woman, and in some of his most
illustrious miracles females were personally concerned.
He mingled his tears with those of Martha and Mary,
restored their brother to their affections, and gave
the widow of Nain back her son. The conduct of
Christ naturally induced His disciples to imitate His
example; and the subsequent admission of women to
all the privileges of the Christian Church, tended
mightily to confirm their elevation and evince their
importance in society. Women ministered to the
Saviour in the days of His humiliation; and when one
professed friend denied Him, and another betrayed
Him, and all forsook Him and fled, their fidelity was
never impeached. They were the last at the cross—they
were the first at the sepulchre. Through all
succeeding ages, they have been conspicuous for their
works of charity and their labours of love,—through
all the phases of persecution the women have suffered
for their religious faith like the men; and it has been
remarked that no woman ever put forward her sex as
.pn 353
a reason for being spared. The congregations and
churches of the present day testify how well women
have understood their privileges.
Religion, indeed, in itself is venerable; but it must
be attractive in order to be influential; and it is
impossible to tell how great might be the benefit to
society, if the personal loveliness, versatile powers,
and lively fancy so lavishly bestowed upon woman
were conscientiously employed on its behalf. Right
truly has James Russell Lowell, one of the most
original poets America has yet produced, sung:—
.nf b
“The deep religion of a thankful heart,
Which rests instinctively in heaven’s law,
With a full peace that never can depart
From its own steadfastness; a holy awe
For holy things—not those which men call holy,
But such as are revealed to the eyes
Of a true woman’s soul bent down and lowly
Before the face of daily mysteries;
A love that blossoms soon, but ripens slowly
To the full goldenness of fruitful prime,
Enduring with a firmness that defies
All shallow tricks of circumstance and time;
By a sure insight knowing where to cling,
And where it clingeth never withering.”
.nf-
.hr 30%
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.hr 30%
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.in
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Transcriber’s Notes
.sp 2
Some presumed printer’s errors have been corrected, including normalizing
punctuation. Page number references in the Table of Contents and Index were
corrected where errors were found. Further corrections are listed below.
.sp 2
.ta lll summary='Transcriber's Corrections'
PAGE|PRINTED TEXT|CORRECTED TEXT
p. #4# |bodil | bodily
p. #11#| mutally | mutually
p. #18# |ascendency | ascendancy
p. #22# | my lay hold | may lay hold
p. #30# |auguments | augments
p. #31# |industrous | industrious
p. #37# |whereever | wherever
p. #45# |stedfast | steadfast
p. #69# |seventeeth | seventeenth
p. #72# |dressd | dressed
p. #74# |neighbourood | neighbourhood
p. #88# |minature | miniature
p. #96# |degress | degrees
p. #98# |suprised | surprised
p. #114#| interouse | intercourse
p. #114# |villanous | villainous
p. #130# |incribed | inscribed
p. #154# |concern- | concerning
p. #173# |pupularity | popularity
p. #181# |glady | gladly
p. #206# |everthing | everything
p. #207# |other | another
p. #229# |situate | situated
p. #230# |soltitude | solitude
p. #252# |unsual | unusual
p. #253# |calvinistic | Calvinistic
p. #254# |unimpunged | unimpugned
p. #259# |The first six years | The first six years
| of her life was spent | of her life were spent
p. #275# | every ready | ever ready
p. #285# |geniuneness | genuineness
p. #293# |thorougly | thoroughly
p. #295# |frem | from
p. #295# |Nestorious | Nestorius
p. #295# |appproach | approach
p. #318# |religous | religious
.ta-