A New England tale, and Miscellanies

Front matter

^ 0^

4 0, >.

*<r <\ v 30 SSSx*s?W///j T xf> S o

Preface

short and simple moral tale of the most humble description ; and if in the course of its production it has acquired any thing of a peculiar or local cast, this should be chiefly attributed to the habits of the writer’s education, and that kind of accident which seems to control the efforts of those who have not been the subjects of strict intellectual discipline, and have not sufficiently premeditated their own designs.

It can scarcely be necessary to assure the reader, that no personal allusions, however remote, were intended to be made to any individual, unless it be an exception to this remark, that the writer has attempted a sketch of a real character under the fictitious appellation of “ Crazy Bet.”

TO THE SECOND EDITION.

There are few subjects upon which men are so apt tc mistake, as their motives, and the character of their own actions. This tale was written under a sincere conviction of its beneficial tendency. If this be a delusion, it is one which still influences the mind of the writer, who cannot but believe that it is this circumstance which has chiefly contributed to the satisfaction derived from the indulgent and liberal reception with which this humble effort has been so kindly greeted.

The objections which have been made to the moral and religious character of this book, the writer cannot comprehend, and therefore will not undertake to refute.

, Religious cant and sanctimonious pretence have existed in most ages of the world, and have ever been deemed legitimate objects of satire; and the writer of the Hew England Tale, would rather court than avoid

PREFACE.

an imputation (if it be such), which must be equally shared with Butler, Cowper, and Crabbe, and could only wish that there had been a similar participation of talent and genius.

If the writer could suppose that any reader of intelligence and candour could consider this tale as a designed attack upon the character of any class of Christians, such an object would be distinctly disavowed ; and, it is confidently believed, might be clearly refuted from the tale itself. To exhibit our religion in its uncorrupted state, and in such a form as to interest the affections and influence the conduct, is a right and a duty which the writer has attempted to exercise and perform ; and if any degree of success has attended that effort, it must bring with it its own reward. In the mode of doing this, mistakes may have been committed, and, if so, will be matter of sincere regret.

Every person of generous sentiments wdio has been led to treat of morals or religion, must have felt with peculiar force the sentiment so beautifully expressed in the often quoted lines of the master-poet of our language :

“ Oh then that we comd come by Caesar’s spirit.

And not dismember Caesar 1”

But, from the constitution of human nature, it is, and ever will be, impossible to make any attack upon

PREFACE.

folly, vice, or error, which shall not be susceptible of an application to classes of men, and even to individuals ; and if any one shall insist upon making such an application of any thing in this book, the writer must reply to the supposed antagonist in the words of the same poet — that he

“but therein suits

His folly to the metal of my speech.

Let me see wherein

My tongue has wronged him; if it do him right,

Then hath he wronged himself ; if he be free,

Why then my censure like a wild goose flies,

Unclaimed of any man.”

But there is a charge of a graver cast which may be fairly made against this book, and to which the writer seizes with avidity the first opportunity to plead guilty. If, as its title must seem to denote, the book be considered as a representation of the general character of the people of New England, it is not sufficiently favourable. In that character no one feels a deeper interest or a higher pride than the writer, who thinks that there is to be found in it, if not so much to adorn human life, yet perhaps even more than is fitted to subserve the great interests of mankind, than in any other portioif of the world. If this sentiment be deemed narrow or prejudiced, it must be put to the account

PREFACE.

of early education, and that ground will meet with indulgence. With such an opinion, however, can it be supposed that tKe writer could consent to publish a libel upon the whole people ?

As a mistake has been committed, the best correction may perhaps be found in an honest avowal of its cause.

It is stated in the preface to the first edition, that the book was written without any definite plan — and an intelligent reader would probably have made the same observation without the suggestion of the author. There certainly was no design either in the plan or execution of the work, of furnishing an estimate of the intellectual, moral, or religious character of the people of Hew-England, and when finished, its title was rather inconsiderately adopted at the suggestion of a friend.

It is not known whether there be any precedent for changing the title of a book, yet the author has thought proper, in this edition, to retrench a part of it, which is at least superfluous.

The prefaces to the former editions of the Hew- England Tale are retained in this, as there may yet be those to whom their explanations will be satisfactory. The reason alleged in the first for the publication of

PREFACE.

the book is now rendered void by the immense and rapidly increasing mass of “ native American literatim,” ■

This Tale might^gjleft t<^ts natural death, or obscurity, overshadow^. by. fresher and superior productions of the f samg species, but that it derives some claim to sufferahce from its priority in time.

Our social has kept pace with our physical development in the’ last few years. Society has been moulded and remoulded, cast and recast, so that the portraiture of thirty years since, though bearing no veri-similitude to the present times, has a certain value, like that of a picture, however unskilfully wrought, that preserves with truth the features and costume of a past period.

New sects have sprung up, old ones are abated or softened, and a pharisaical, canting bigot, of the old orthodoxy of New-England, like the Dame Wilson of our story, would talk an unknown tongue to a sister in the communion of the new school, albeit evangelical.

The progress of civilization, and the facilities of communication, have levelled all distinctions. There is no village so secluded no\^ as to be surprised by the fashions of the town, and scarcely a country-bred lady to be detected by her rusticity. The progress in the luxury of dress makes the invective of our Mrs. Convers against the extravagance of the 6 now-a-days girl ’ simply ludicrous. The country ‘ store] which perhaps

PREFACE.

^received its designation from the variety of its cornmod itiesj^-anging from brooms to ribbons, has become the ‘ shop ,’ filM* in s'oniecases, by direct importations from England and Frafrice* could now be

successfully pursued against^jlancSg. 'Even the rustic phrases that charbcieftzed ^he^pbsiti«^oftour dramatis personae have passed away and are forgotten. — Thus if the coin we offer be neither^. gold^n^iY§ilver, if it have no intrinsic value, we hope its^mpress will be an apology for its new issue, with those who have a fond or foolish love for the past.

The additional tales in the volume will at least have the attraction of novelty to most of our readers, as they are now, for the first time, resuscitated, after a decent interment in the magazines.

A

NEW ENGLAND TALE

Chapter I

Oh, ye ! who sunk in beds of down,

Feel not a want but what yourselves create,

Think for a moment on his wretched fate,

Whom friends and fortune quite disown.

Burns.

Mr. Elton was formerly a flourishing trader, or, in rustic

phrase, a merchant, in the village of . In the early

part of his life he had been successful in business ; and having a due portion of that mean pride which is gratified by pecuniary superiority, he was careful to appear quite as rich as he was. When he was at the top of fortune’s wheel, some of his prying neighbors shrewdly suspected, that the show of his wealth was quite out of proportion to the reality ; and their side-glances and prophetic whispers betrayed their contempt of the offensive airs of the purse-proud man.

The people in the village of were simple in their

habits, and economical in their modes of life ; and Mr. Elton’s occasional indulgence in a showy piece of furniture, or an expensive article of dress for himself or for his wife,

A NEW ENGLAND TALE.

attracted notice, and, we fear, sometimes provoked envy, even from those who were wiser and much better than he was. So inconsistent are men — and women too — that they often envy a display of which they really despise, and loudly condemn the motive.

Mrs. Elton neither deserved nor shared the dislike her husband received in full measure. On the contrary, she had the good-will of her neighbors. She never seemed elated by prosperity ; and though she occasionally appeared in an expensive Leghorn hat, a merino shawl, or a fine lace, the gentleness and humility of her manners, and the uniform benevolence of her conduct, averted the censure that would otherwise have fallen on her. She had married Mr. Elton when very young, without much consideration, and after a short acquaintance. She had to learn, in the bitter way of experience, that there was no sympathy between them ; their hands were indissolubly joined, but their hearts were not related ; he was 11 of the earth, earthy” — she “ of the heavens, heavenly.” She had that passiveness which, we believe, is exclusively a feminine virtue (if virtue it may be called), and she acquiesced silently and patiently in her unhappy fate, though there was a certain abstractedness in her manner, a secret feeling of indifference and separation from the world, of which she, perhaps, never investigated, certainly never exposed the cause.

Mr. Elton’s success in business had been rather owing to accidental circumstances, than to his skill or prudence ; but his vanity appropriated to himself all the merit of it. He adventured rashly in one speculation after another, and failing in them all, his losses were more rapid than his acquisition;: had been. Few persons have virtue enough to retrench their expenses, as their income diminishes ; and no virtue, of

A NEW ENGLAND TALE.

difficult growth, could be expected from a character where no good seed had ever taken root.

The morale , like the physique, needs use and exercise to give it strength. Mrs. Elton’s had never been thus invigorated. She could not oppose a strong current. She had not energy to avert an evil, though she would have borne patiently any that could have been laid on her. She knew her husband’s affairs were embarrassed ; she saw him constantly incurring debts, which she knew they had no means of paying; she perceived he was gradually sinking into a vice, which, while it lulls the sense of misery, annihilates the capacity of escaping from it — and yet she silently, and without an effort, acquiesced in his faults. They lived on, as they had lived, keeping an expensive table, and three or four servants, and dressing as usual.

This conduct in Mrs. Elton, was the result of habitual passiveness ; in Mr. Elton, it was prompted by a vain hope of concealing from his neighbors a truth, that, in spite of his bustling, ostentatious ways, they had known for many months. This is a common delusion. We all know that from the habits of our people in a country town, it is utterly impossible for the most watchful and skilful manoeuverer, to keep his pecuniary affairs secret from the keen and quick observation of his neighbors. The expedients practised for concealment are much like that of a little child, who shuts his own eyes, and fancies he has closed those of the spectators ; or in their effect upon existing circumstances, may be compared to the action of a frightened woman, who turns her back in a carriage when the horses are leaping over a precipice.

It may seem strange, perhaps incredible, that Mrs. Elton, possessing the virtues we have attributed to her, and being a religious woman, should be accessory to such deception, and

A NEW ENGLAND TALE.

(for we will call “things bj their right names”) dishonesty. But the wonder will cease if we look around upon the circle of our acquaintance, and observe how few there are among those whom we believe to be Christians, who govern their daily conduct by Christian principles, and regulate their temporal duties by the strict Christian rule. Truly, narrow is the way of perfect integrity, and few there are that walk therein.

There are too many who forget that our religion is not like that of the ancients, something set apart from the ordinary concerns of life ; the consecrated, not the “daily bread;” a service for the temple and the grove, having its separate class of duties and pleasures ; but is “ the leaven that leaveneth the whole lump,” a spirit to be infused into the common affairs of life. "VVe fear Mrs. Elton was not quite guiltless of this fault. She believed all the Bible teaches. She had long been a member of the church in the town where she lived. She daily read the Scriptures, and daily offered sincere prayers. Certainly the waters of the fountain from whence she drank, had a salutary influence, though they failed to heal all her diseases. She was kind, gentle, and uncomplaining ; and sustained, with admirable patience, the growing infirmities and irritating faults of her husband. To her child, she performed her duties wisely, and with an anxious zeal ; the result, in part, of uncommon maternal tenderness, and in part, of a painful consciousness of the faults of her own character, and perhaps, of a secret feeling she had left much undone that she ought to do.

Mr. Elton, after his pecuniary embarrassments were beyond the hope of extrication, maintained by stratagem the appearance of prosperity for some months, when a violent fever ended his struggle with the tide of fortune that had set

A NEW ENGLAND TALE.

against him, and consigned him to that place where there is “ no more work nor device.” His wife was left quite destitute with her child, then an interesting little girl, a little more than twelve years old. A more energetic mind than Mrs. Elton’s might have been discouraged by the troubles which were now set before her in all their extent, and with tenfold aggravation ; and she, irresolute, spiritless, and despondent, sunk under them. She had, from nature, a slender constitution ; her health declined, and after lingering for some months, she died with resignation, but not without a heart-rending pang at the thought of leaving her child, poor, helpless, and friendless.

Little Jane had nursed her mother with fidelity and tenderness, and performed services for her, to which her years seemed hardly adequate, with an efficiency and exactness that surprised all who were prepared to find her a delicately bred and indulged child. She seemed to have inherited nothing from her father but his active mind : from her mother she had derived a pure and gentle spirit; but this would have been quite insufficient to produce the result of such a character as hers, without the aid of her mother’s vigilant, and, for the most part, judicious training. In the formation of her child’s character, she had been essentially aided by a faithful domestic, who had lived with her for many years, and nursed Jane in her infancy.

We know it is common to rail at our domestics. Their independence is certainly often inconvenient to their employers ; but, as it is the result of the prosperous condition of all classes in our happy country, it is not right nor wise to complain of it. We believe there are many instances of intelligent and affectionate service, that are rarely equalled, where ignorance and servility mark the lower classes. Mary Hull

A NEW ENGLAND TALE.

was endowed with a mind of uncommon strength, and an affectionate heart. These were her jewels. She had been brought up by a pious mother, and early and zealously embraced the faith of the Methodists. She had the virtues of her station in an eminent* degree : practical good sense, industrious, efficient habits, and handy ways. She never presumed formally to offer her advice to Mrs. Elton ; her instincts seemed to define the line of propriety to her ; but she had a way of suggesting hints, of which Mrs. Elton learnt the value by experience. This good woman had been called to a distant place, to attend her dying mother, just before the death of Mrs. Elton ; and thus Jane was deprived of an able assistant, and most tender friend, and left to pass through the dismal scene of death, without any other than occasional assistance from her compassionate neighbors.

On the day of Mrs. Elton’s interment, a concourse of people assembled to listen to the funeral sermon, and to follow to the grave one who had been the object of the envy of some, and of the respect and love of many. Three sisters of Mr. Elton were assembled with their families. — Mrs. Elton had come from a distant part of the country, and had no relatives in .

Jane’s relations wore the decent gravity that became the occasion; but they were of a hard race, and neither the wreck their brother had made, nor the deep grief of the solitary little creature, awakened their pity. They even seemed to. shun manifesting towards her the kindness of common sympathy, lest it should be construed into an intention ofr taking charge of the orphan.

Jane lost in the depths of her sufferings, seemed insensible to all external things. Her countenance was of a deathlike paleness, and her features immovable. In the course of

A NEW ENGLAND TALE.

the sermon, agreeably, to the usage established in such cases, the clergyman made a personal address to her, as the nearest relative and chief mourner. She was utterly unable to rise, as she should have done in compliance with custom ; and one of her aunts shocked at the omission of what she considered an essential decorum, took her by the arm, and almost lifted her from her seat. She stood like a statue, her senses seeming to take no cognizance of anything. Not a tear escaped, nor a sigh burst from her breaking heart. The sorrow of childhood is usually noisy, and this mute and motionless grief, in a creature so young, and one that had been so happy, touched every heart.

When the services were over, the clergyman supported the trembling frame of the poor child to the place of interment. The coffin was slowly let down into the house appointed for all. Every one who has followed a dear«friend to the grave, remembers with shuddering the hollow sound of the first clods that are thrown on the coffin. As they fell heavily, poor Jane shrieked, 11 oh, mother !” and springing forward, bent over the grave, which, to her, seemed to contain all the world. The sexton, used as he was to pursue his trade amidst the wailings of mourners, saw something peculiar in the misery of the lone child. He dropped the spade, and hastily brushing away the tears that blinded him with the sleeve of his coat, “ Why does not some one,” he said, “ take away the child ? it beats all ! — her heart’s broke !” There was a general bustle in the crowd, and two young ladies, more considerate, or perhaps more tender-hearted, than the rest, kindly passed their arms around her, and led her to her home

The clergyman of was one of those who are more

zealous for sound doctrine, than benevolent practice:, he had chosen on that occasion for his text, “ The wages of sin is

A NEW ENGLAND TALE.

death,” and had preached a long sermon in the vain endeavour of elucidating the doctrine of original sin. Clergymen who lose such opportunities of instructing their people in the operations of Providence, and the claims of humanity, ought not to wonder if they grow languid, and selfish, and careless of their most obvious duties. Had this gentleman improved this occasion of illustrating the duty of sympathy, by dwelling on the tenderness of our blessed Lord, when he wept with the bereaved sisters at the grave of Lazarus : had he distilled the essence of those texts, and diffused their gracious influence into his sermon “ Bear ye one another’s burthens

“ Weep with those who weep;” u Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of these, ye have done it unto me had this preaching usually been in conformity to the teaching of our Saviour, could the scene have followed, which, as a part of Jane Elton’s story must be told.

We fear there are many who think there is merit in believing certain doctrines ; who, mistaking the true import of that text, “ by grace are ye saved,” quiet themselves with having, once in their lives, passed through what they deemed conviction and conversion, and from thence believe their salvation is secure.

The house, furniture, and other property of Mr. Elton had lain under an attachment for some time previous to Mrs. Elton’s death ; but the sale had been delayed in consideration of her approaching dissolution. It was now appointed for the next week ; and it therefore became necessary that some arrangement should be made for the destitute orphan.

The day after the funeral, Jane was sitting in her mother’s room, which, in her eyes, was consecrated by her sickness and death ; the three aunts met at Mr. Elton’s house ; she heard the ladies approaching through the adjoining apartment, and

A NEW ENGLAND TALE.

hastily taking up her Bible, which she had been trying to read, she drew her little bench behind the curtain of her mother’s bed. There is an instinct in childhood, that discerns affection wherever it exists, and shrinks from the coldness of calculating selfishness. In all their adversity, neither Jane, nor her mother, had ever been cheered by a glimmering of kindness from these relatives. Mrs. Elton had founded no expectations on them for her child ; but with her usual irresolution, she had shrunk from preparing Jane’s mind for the shocks that awaited her.

The three sisters were led in by a young woman who had offered to stay with Jane till some arrangement was made for her. In reply to their asking where she was, the girl pointed

to the bed. “ There,” she said, “ taking on despertly. A

body would think,” added she, “ that she had lost her uncles and aunts, as well as her father and mother. And she might as well,” (she continued, in a tone low enough not to be heard,) “ for any good they will do her.”

The eldest sister began the conference by saying, “ That she trusted it was not^expected she should take Jane upon her hands — that she was not* so well off as either of her sisters — that to be sure she had no children ; but then Mr. Daggett and hersel ^calculated to do a great deal for the Foreign Mi|pGnary Society ; that no longer ago than that morning, Mr. D. and she had agreed to pay the expense of one of

the young Cherokees at the school at ; that there was

a great work goii^'on in the world, and as long as they had the heart given them to help it, they could not feel it their duty to withdraw any aid for a mere worldly purpose !”

Mrs. Convers (the second sister) said that she had not any religion, and she did not mean to pretend to any ; that she had ways enough to spend her money without sending it to 2

A NEW ENGLAND TALE.

Owyhee, or the Foreign School ; that she and her husband had worked hard, and saved all for their children ; and now they meant they should make as good a figure as anybody’s children in the country'. It took a great deal of money, she said, to pay the dancing-master, and the drawing-master, and the music-master ; it was quite impossible for her sisters to think how much it took to dress a family of girls genteely. It was not now, as it used to be when we were girls ; now-adays, girls must have merino shawls, and their winter hats, and summer h#ts, and prunella shoes, and silk stockings ; — it was quite im to be decent without them. Besides, she added, as she did not live in the same place with Jane, it was not natural she should feel for her. It was her decided opinion, that Jane had better be put out at once, at some place where she could do light work till she was a little used to it; and she would advise, too, to her changing her name ; the chjld was so young she could not care about a name, and she should be much mortified to have it known, in the town of

-that her daughters had a cousin that was a hired girl .

There was something in th^s^ harsh counsel wh&h touched Mrs. Wilson’s (the younger sister’s) pride; thoimKit failed to awaken a sentiment of humanity. Slie sau^she desi^W tq be thankful that she had been kept from any sroinS(|^ courses as sending her children to a dancing-sch&oT; noWdy^ofild say she had not done her duty by theia^^tauninister’s family*^ was not kept more strict than hers.

“ No,” said Mrs. Convers, “ and by all accounts is not more disorderly.”

“Well, that is not our fault, Mrs. Convers, if we plant and water, we cannot give the increase.”

Mrs. Wilson should have remembered that God does give

A NEW ENGLAND TALE.

the increase to those that rightly plant, and faithfully water. But Mrs. Wilson’s tongue was familiar with many texts that had never entered her understanding, or influanced her heart.

Mrs. Wilson continued — “ Sister Convers, I feel it to be my duty to warn you — you, the daughter and grand-daughter of worthy divines who abhorred all such sinful practices, that you should own that you send your children to dancing school, astonishes and grieves my spirit. Do you know that Mr. C , imreporting the awakening in his parish, men-

tions that not one of the girls that attended dancing school were among the converts, whereas two, who had engaged to attend it, but had received a remarkable warning in a dream, were among the first and brightest ?”

“ I would as soon,” she continued, u follow one of my ^ children to the grave, as to see her in that broad road to destruction, which leads through a ball-room.”

“ It is easy enough,” replied Mrs. Convers, (adjusting her smart mourning cap at the glass,) “to run down sins we have no fancy for.” t

Mrs. Wilson’s ready answer was prevented by the entrance of Jane’s humble friend, who asked, if the ladies had determined what was to be done with the little girl.

Mrs. Wilson in her vehemence had quite forgotten the object of their meeting, but now brought back to it, and instigated by a feeling of superiority to Mrs. Convers, and a little nettled by the excuses of Mrs. Daggett, which she thought were meant as a boast of superior piety, she said, that as she had no dancing-masters to pay, and had not “ that morning agreed” to adopt a Cherokee — she could afford to take Jane for a little while. The child, she said, must not think of depending upon her for life ; for though she was ^ widow, and could do what she was a mind to her with her

A NEW ENGLAND TALE.

6wn, she could not justify herself in taking the children’s j^ieat — and she would have added — “to throw it to the dogs ” 1— but she was interrupted by a person, who, unregarded by 'the ladies, had taken her seat among them.

** VThis was a middle aged woman, whose mind had been unsettled in her yputh by misfortunes. Having no mischievou f propensities, she was allowed to indulge her vagrant inclinations, in wandering from house to house, and town to town ; her stimulated imagination furnishing continual amusement to the curious by her sagacious observations, and unfail* ing mirth to the young and vulgar, by the fanciful medley in which she arrayed her person. There were some who noticed in her a quickness of feeling that indicated original sensibility, which, perhaps, had been the cause of her sufferings. The dogs of a surly master would sometimes bark at her, because her dress resembled the obnoxious livery of the beggar — a class they had been taught to chase with pharisaical antipathy. But except when her timid nature was alarmed by the onset of dogs, which she always called the deviVs servants, crazy Bet found a welcome wherever she went.

It is common for persons in her unfortunate circumstances to seek every scene of excitement. The sober, sedate manners of the New England people, and the even tenor of their lives, afford but few of these, and these few are, for the most part, of a serious if not a gloomy character. Wherever there was an awakening, or a camp meeting, crazy Bet was sure to be found. She was often seen by moonlight, wandering in the church-yard, plucking the nettles from the graves, and wreathing the monuments with ground-pine. She would watch for whole nights by the side of a grave in her native village, where twenty years before were deposited the remains of her lover, who was drowned on the day before they were