Life and thought ...

Front matter

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Preface

To keep alive the memory of the gifted and the good, we must not suffer private feeling to become the sole depositary. We are forced to yield, what exclusiveness would prompt to retain ; what the tenderness and delicacy of a fond affection would gladly appropriate to itself. But the reflection of excellence falls gratefully on the universal eye, and stirs to healthy action the universal heart. Common humanity asks every aid that can be given. Intellect grows strong by every proof of its superiority ; virtue more lovely by repeated exemplification. We are bound to the good by the continued proofs of excellence they exhibit while living ; but death gives increased value to the treasures they bequeathe. These may not be claimed as private right, — to humanity, to the world, they belong henceforth.

Contents

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Editorial Introduction xi

CHAPTER L The Meeting, — School Days, — Visit. — Parentage * 1

Chapter I. The Meeting — School Days — Visit — Parentage — Letters

It was on one of those beautiful days in autumn, that we first met, — -a day to be remembered apart from all others. The chilling breath of the frostwind yielded, for the time, to the bland zephyr, holding its parting revel amid the gorgeous forests, and along the imbrowned vales, ere its departure for a more southern home. The skies wore an aspect of more than Italian softness, while the sunlight had the rich mellowness of the spring-time. Charming the season, most beautiful the day on which we met, and circumstances were propitious for the cultivation of a most intimate acquaintance, as to mind and character. We had both, for the time,, become inmates of one of the retired seminaries of our own New England. Some invisible attraction drew us often together, yet it was not perfect harmony of opinion upon all subjects, or answering 1 sympathy, that formed the basis of the devoted friendship, that in time bound heart to heart too strongly for death even to sever. Its memory makes the holiest possession of the living, while its brightness lingered in gentle radiance, tender and abiding, even in the dying hour. But we would not here anticipate the closing scene. For the present it is ours to live again in the past, to review the life of one who blended in mind and character those rare qualities that wake in the universal heart warm devotion, delicate regard, generous and profound admiration.

The entrance of Miss Parker into the institution was not a similar occurrence to that which may happen frequently in a public seminary, — the advent of an additional member, without any thing of particular importance beyond. She came already possessed of a highly cultivated intellect ; full of that enthusiastic love and appreciation of knowledge that betokens the scholar, and promises future eminence. Possessed of so much of the truly social, added to fine conversational powers, Miss Parker soon became the centre of admiration. The difficult problem, each severe task of the intellect, was met most successfully ; but her natural tastes turned with more zeal, and deeper interest, to the finished and elegant in literature. A warm and brilliant imagination threw its couleur-de-rose over the page of her favorite authors, imparting a charm to her conversation, and rendering sprightly and attractive the productions of her own pen. The school exercises of this period in the way of the weekly com-

THE VISIT — PARENTAGE. o

position, would be interesting here ; but being produced for the occasion, and serving the demand, they have not been preserved. But those who were her class mates, as well as the more discriminating visitors, who were present on public evenings, well remember her beautifully drawn, historic pictures, so full of life and reality. The rounded periods, as they fell upon the ear, had all the charm of harmonious music.

The year glided away, leaving its memories rich and endless, which the distant clothes only in beauty and brightness. From its agreeable recollections, I may be allowed to select one, and introduce my readers, even as I had the pleasure to be introduced, to the home and immediate family of my friend. Many who will read this sketch, knew the subject of it from her earliest years: others have not this intimate acquaintance ; for those more especially are the incidents and impressions of this visit given.

In this biographical sketch, it may be proper to state, that Miss Julia A. Parker, afterwards Mrs. Dyson, was born in Acworth, N. H., April 28, 1818, the second and youngest daughter of Dr. Benjamin C. Parker, an extensively known and highly respectable physician, who removed* here from Westford, Massachusetts. To his now present abode let me conduct the reader, — leaving a more particular description of the pretty little hamlet where it is situated to the more graphic pen of my friend. Her first letters appearing here, were mostly written from her cherished and picturesque home ; and if the reader has never looked upon its beauty, or shared its hospitality, from its frequent mention a very intimate acquaintance may be obtained.

The season for the introduction we might well regret, were we mere voyageurs of pleasure. For it is not in the gentle spring-time that we make our pilgrimage, or amid the luxuriance of summer ; but in the stern month of November. But amends for all this may be found in the social joys, that bereave this season of its otherwise chilling sternness. The festive day of a New England thanksgiving is at hand, — the time of all others most abounding in social delights. The gladness and hospitality of primitive days seem present. It is the time for the meeting of the absent, — for the strengthening of household ties, —for the twining into one wreath of beauty, the heart's holiest affections.

It was as pleasant as any day can well be, at the beginning of winter, that we left the seminary, in company with several pupils of the institution, making up a very joyous party. A few miles, slowly passed over, brought us to the boundary that separates the mountain land, clothed as to its summit in fadeless green, from the sterner " Granite State." Not a few playful strictures had been exchanged by the way upon the peculiarities of each State, as to natural scenery, manners, customs, etc. But the boundary is passed, — our own Connecticut River we found silent in its icy fetters, while the snow-covered hills of New Hampshire were before us. The chilly atmosphere, the leafless trees, the ice-bound rivulets had been the only indications of winter, with which we had been greeted until now. As we receded

THE JOURNEY WELCOME. 5

from the Connecticut, only the hill-tops at first were white with a light fleecy snow, that required but one southern gale to dissipate ; but as we advanced, we found its investing mantle wrapping both hill and vale, hiding the rough features of the jutting granite crags, and wild ravines. The sun that shone so brightly at the commencement of our journey, had disappeared with a half wintry frown, and the darkness, added to the freezing atmosphere, made the sight of the village, as it appeared, doubly welcome. Glowing fires, with heart-felt warmth, each of our party knew to be in reserve. Our companions of the way lessened in number from the time of our entrance into the little rural village. Its last pretty dwelling reached, and we too were at the haven where w T e would be, — the early home and birthplace of my cherished friend. There the warm welcome and kindest hospitality awaited our arrival. Allow me now to introduce to those of my readers, who are not previously acquainted, the different members of the family, as they were presented. Dr. Parker, the father, met us on our arrival, extending to his daughter a kind caress, and welcoming her friend with generous warmth. A courteous and hospitable man, he appeared, with that ease and quiet of manner, so characteristic of the gentleman. The mother and sister greeted us, very tenderly, as we were ushered into the cheerful sitting-room. I was forcibly struck with the likeness my friend bore to her mother, — the same dark eye and general cast of features. But a grave, almost deepened melancholy seemed to cast its shadow over one, while youth 1* b BIOGRAPHICAL.

and hope, in all their brightness, lighted up the countenance of the other. What resemblance, and yet what contrast, was the mental exclamation. As I sought, again and again, the beaming, happy face of my friend, I thought time and care, however potent they may be, can never so fix their impress, where now each feature seemed lighted with the radiance of youth and hope.

I thought the sisters unlike, but a more intimate acquaintance has revealed many points of likeness, that were not at first so perceptible. The calmer thoughtfulness of the one, contrasted pleasingly with the ardent and impulsive manner of the other. Dr. Parker, jun., whom I had met before, was in appearance much like his younger sister. The mother's pale brow and dark eyes were his also, with much of the same thoughtful and seeming melancholy. But this appeared only at intervals, — the energy and far-reaching aspirations of ripening manhood, brought into the foreground of expression and character that enthusiasm, so characteristic of the sister. No one could fail to mark the strong mental, as well as personal resemblance. The youngest member of the family was a lad of some twelve or fourteen years, very retiring in manner, strongly attached he appeared to his horse, his dog, and gun ; these were enough to constitute his world. A favored season 'of life indeed, when so little is necessary to happiness. Such appeared this pleasant family circle at this time. In its agreeable society several days passed with a delight that neither time, nor the sad changes death has wrought, have power to obliter-

MEMBERS OF THE FAMILY. 7

ate. I would gladly linger amid the enjoyments of these happy days. Their occurrences have all the vividness that belongs to those of yesterday. Memory has impressed upon them her own fadeless hues, and enshrined them for immortality.

Time passed, and we found ourselves returned to the academic halls again. Life assumed much the same aspect that it had worn before. Spring came, — a rich verdure clothed our hills again. The minstrelsy of birds waked to joy the forest and the grove. Spring is a happy season everywhere; but the transition from drifting snows and frowning skies, to the charming freshness and beauty it brings, is very sudden, in our northern climate. Those, accustomed to the warmer south, cannot appreciate this change, or share fully its happy influences. Many were the sweet effusions, this lovely spring called forth, from the happy, youthful band, whose silvery shouts were echoed by the hills rising around our rural seminary. When the Friday evenings came, the written exercises, for the time, seemed to dwell upon no topic so constantly or happily as the charms of spring. But notwithstanding all the incense poured out upon its balmy airs, all the invocations that it might abide for ever, like its predecessors, and those that have succeeded, it passed away, to give place to the riper luxuriance of summer. Her roses had not all faded, when the first adieu that had been demanded since our first meeting, was spoken, — sadly it was spoken; although the interval of separation anticipated was expected to be brief; it extended to years. That interval was passed by my friend mostly within the quiet shades of her childhood's home, with an occasional absence for a few weeks or months.

From this time her own correspondence will give a more satisfactory portraiture of mind and character than can be otherwise obtained. Of her letters, it may here be remarked, that as a whole they are penned with rare felicity of diction, sprightliness of thought, and warmth of feeling ; and were they presented entire, they would form no unimportant addition to this department of our common literature. But too well do we know they were not written for the public eye, and we feel scarcely at liberty to make such extracts as are necessary to this biographical sketch. They shall, however, be delicately and carefully made ; restricted to such as shall illustrate character, mode of thought and expression, presenting to view, in some degree, her high intellectual attainments, and that unobtrusive moral worth for which she was distinguished. The selections will not be found to have been made from general correspondence; but rather the more marked intimacy of a devoted friendship, or family connection. These sources may afford less of the brilliant and fanciful; yet they are much better adapted to the object in view. In such correspondence the mind unfolds its own peculiar modes of thought; its hopes, its fears, its purposes, and aspirations are laid open to view. The heart's warm sympathies, fond devotion, and social susceptibilities are expressed without reserve. The cold, critical, calculating eye of the world is shut from view. The

CHARACTER OF SELECTIONS. 9

soul reposes in ease, in fullest confidence ; no concealment asked — none tolerated. It is from a source so healthful, and so reliable, that we give what may be termed an autobiography of our friend, embracing a period of fifteen years. The first extract bearing the date of 1837, the last, 1852.

The warmth of youthful feeling, the brilliancy of youthful hope, the perception and enjoyment of the beautiful, however presented, whether in nature or art, books or character, mark the first series.

Years pass ; a deeper thought, a truer and holier feeling prevail. Life puts on the real, the earnest, and the manifold obligations of the responsible being are recognized and met in full and profound reliance upon the aid of heaven. Rarely do we meet with more enlightened Christian principles or truer devotion.

For the individual of warm and tender impulses, strong and constant attachment, this simple and unadorned biography, folds many a charm ; — for such are touched by the manifestations of generous sacrifice, and place fidelity among the noblest virtues.

To those who look upon life in its true light, as given for action, rather than ease, for usefulness, rather than enjoyment, will see duty and truth triumphant. To that individual, more than all others, who loves to contemplate the influence of Divine grace upon the human heart, — now weak, and seemingly easy of extinction ; yet while gazing, sees it grow stronger, and brighter, until its radiance lights up the whole being, purifying and sanctifying it for heaven and eternal happiness, such an one finds here an exemplification, and blesses God for the gift of His spirit, — the Omnipotence of its power ; for he sees the verification of his cherished and holy faith, — the changeless promise, " My grace is sufficient for thee." " As thy day, so shall thy strength be."

To a large circle of attached and admiring friends this history, in her own words, will be vivid as real life. The friend, the sister, the daughter, the wife speaks again. The present becomes as the past, — the oblivion of the tomb is no more. The pressure of an inexpressible sadness is lifted from the soul, and the heart again thrills with its accustomed emotions of trustful happiness.

Life here defies the hate

Of his arch enemy, death ; yea seats himself

Upon the sepulchre and 'mid the triumphs of his ghastly foe,

Weaves his own wreath of happiness.

"Acworth, March 9, 1837.

" My Dear E. — I received your letter from the hand of our friend, Mr. F. — a few days since. With joy and gratitude I perused it, as a new pledge of my friend's affection. Yet let me ask, why did you not present yourself, instead of this consolatory bit of paper ? — Why, my dearest, you cannot know the disappointment my heart experienced, when I was obliged to give up the hope of seeing you now, for months to come. I had anticipated so much pleasure, — wished so much to see you. But our wishes are traitors, and give us false intelligence.

" You have not, it appears, received my snail-paced messenger of February date ; — how annoying to wait thus

BOOKS READ — OPINIONS. 11

long. I smiled as I sealed it, at the same time felt a presentiment that it would not reach you soon. But when it comes, remember its contents are sacred to you alone. I fear no violation of the confidence reposed, — to one I love, my whole soul stands revealed, — my heart is presented just as it is, even though it may blush and beg to retire to its hiding-place. How precious the kindred spirit where unlimited trust is reposed, — whose affectionate sympathies are so pure, — whose love is changeless, eternal.

" You mentioned The Memoirs of Josephine, published by the Harpers. It is on my list for perusal. In our judgment of that incomparable woman, we agree. But I shall never forgive the manner in which you presented her imperial husband, on one of our remembered ' Friday evenings.' He was my hero for that evening, — my choicest rhetoric had been used in his behalf, and the applause that followed was gratifying, for I felt it due to the subject, — the hero of a hundred battles should ever thus be honored. I had only left the reading desk, when I saw it occupied by my friend ; my opposing genius rather, if you will tolerate right names, and the sage of Mount Vernon was announced as a theme. I listened with unmingled pleasure, while Washington stood alone, claiming the honors of mankind. My pride and patriotism were equally enlisted. At length came the climax, that cutting and uncalled for antithesis, — so withering to the laurels of my hero, I cannot, I will not forgive. But a truce to past differences, — we will yet be friends.

" My own reading for the past winter, has been occasionally, of the kind termed fictitious, which you dislike. Yet I must beg leave to differ from you, on the ground of its utility, as well as that of its moral tendency. I must deny the assertion of the poet, that

' Eyes dazzled by fiction's gaudy rays, In modest truth no light or beauty sees/

" I have just finished Fay's i Norman Leslie.' It is a beautiful and instructive work of the kind. The hero is not a character entirely enveloped in the mantle of perfection, — thus robbed of all faults ; but excellent and not unworthy of admiration. It abounds in fine description of natural scenery, and presents withal, some striking traits of American character. Some day when time hangs heavily, or passes too slowly, turn to the chaste and enchanting pages of ' Norman Leslie.'

" I have spent the winter very, very pleasantly, — with my books has the time been mostly passed ; what very kind friends they are ; my reading has been both entertaining and instructive. Never in three months have I accomplished so much. We received The Republic of Letters last autumn, a selection of the best standard literature and English classics ; it has received an attentive perusal.

" Your allusion to the undefinable * West ' touched a chord that vibrates in such sweet imaginings ; I am determined to visit that magic land, described as embracing so many paradisical charms. I wish my home was even now there. By the way, I must tell you my very dear friend, M. B . . . . , is preparing for a flight to Illinois. In two months from this time she takes her departure. The bare thought is insupportable to me, since I cannot accompany her. She writes to ask me if I am ready to fulfil the promise made her to that effect. If not, she promises to go and plant the rose tree beneath my window, and learn the woodbine its wreathings ; so that when I do come, I shall exclaim, < How lovely a spot for Romeo and Juliet ! ' Romantic and beautiful girl, it fills my heart with anguish to think of parting with her, — how dreadful the word adieu ! But her faith is plighted to a fair-haired swain from the flower-

THE WEST AN EARLY FRIEND. 13

bespangled prairies.' If I appear at the bridal, it will be i less in joy than sadness.' But whatever I feel, I must express no more. Write me very often, until we meet again, my kind friend.

" Thine ever, Julia."

We could not omit the closing allusion to one of the earliest friendships formed by Miss Parker. The "romantic girl" alluded to is now the more sober matron. Yet it is beautiful to stir the heart's sweet memories. Their friendship was a charmed episode in the life of each. If they met at the bridal, it was their last meeting on earth. Their bright dreams of social bliss and tenderness were not to be realized in this world. Bat in that glad realm, where all that is true, tender, and hallowed in affection shall live in perfected loveliness, may they at length meet, to part no more forever.

"Acworth, June, 1837.

" My dear Friend, — I confess the feeling in which 1 seize my l youthful pen ' to-day, is not the most gracious- The warm blood rushes to my cheek when I remember that three of my epistolary missives have brought no return.. Your pen must be suffering from paralysis, or else you deem me among the things that have been.

" But strange as all this seems, I cannot doubt my generous, and, as I believe, my most devoted friend. Truly mine is a woman's trust, i perfect and fearing no change but death.' Your letters, although often too long delayed, are the heralds of pure affection, speaking as from the heart. I believe them ever to speak the language of truth and sincerity. And in every thing, am I not disposed to make full return ? To doubt this one moment would be to know me not. The ocean yields to the powerful yet silently exerted force that creates its tides ; the violet lends so willingly its perfume to the caressing breeze; even so does my ever trusting and responsive heart answer to thine. There is no feeling on earth that brings such bliss to the soul — that is so affluent in rich, exquisite enjoyment, as the consciousness that we are beloved, that we are capable in any degree of enhancing the happiness of others. I sometimes think that even you, who know me so well, think me of a nature cold and unsympathizing. I do not turn aside to correct all false impressions, but to you, at least, I would be known as I am. Believe me, then, when I assure you I would rather possess the devotion of a few faithful hearts, than feel my brow pressed with the gem-lit tiara of England's queen, or be the wearer of the Sultana's imperial gift that blazes upon her snowy neck. With my devoted band, I would lead up a triumph more glorious than those of the olden time. Those swelling the gorgeous train of fame's renowned conquerors were held in place by a stern necessity — mine should be willing captives alone.

" But while upon the tender subject, I must inform you that the exquisite morceau on 6 Love ' that has appeared in the New York and southern papers is certainly not mine. The signature deceived you. I think it very beautiful ; and if I knew the fair authoress, I, too, would gladly render homage at such a shrine. I seldom write for the press. If I possess something of the ambitious in my nature, I have no confidence. When any thing in print from my own pen meets my eye, I literally feel my cheek crimson, and an allusion, commendatory or otherwise, is painfully embarrassing. I wish it were not so.

" I would like to say much upon literary and other subjects. Not a few, I confess, are at present calling for atten-

AUTHORSHIP REMARK. 15

tion. ' The glorious Fourth ' is at hand. It is to be celebrated with uncommon splendor in Claremont. The beauty and chivalry of the ' Granite State ' are to be concentrated there. I have a beautiful dress, prepared for the occasion, trimmed so tastefully that even you would be obliged to admire it. I know you are not pleased with excessive gayety, neither am I fascinated, as you sometimes deem me, with festive scenes. I will concede more to your wishes than to those of any other individual living. But my sentiment must ever be, ' Independence now, and independence for ever ! ' Comprenez-vous ? It implies only that self-respect you ever counsel.

" With devotion, ever thine,

"Julia."

The preceding is characterized, as will at once be perceived, by that warmth and devotion of feeling that served in its reflex influence to attach Miss Parker's friends to her so strongly. And that independence, while it was firm, it was yet so gentle and respectful, that it must be regarded a pleasing, as well as a noble, characteristic. Joyous and innocently gay, her appearance in society was welcomed with gladness and admiration. Ever bland and gracious in manner, pleased to contribute to the enjoyment of others, there was with her ever present, a true self-respect that would indulge only in the truthful and sincere, that closed alike the lip and ear to flattery.

Chapter II

FRIENDSHIP — OPINION OF BOOKS — LETTERS FROM BENNING- TON, VT. — HUMOROUS ACCOUNT OF COMMON VEHICLES — REMARK — RETURN HOME — STUDIES — • YISIT TO BOSTON "-VARIOUS OBJECTS OF INTEREST.

" Bennington, Vt., June 21, 1838.

"Mx OWN Friend, — Is a blush, in your estimation, the token of conscious guilt, or innocence ? I know it has been called the index of purity and ingenuousness, — so it may be sometimes. But if its origin be doubtful, or not always the same, whence comes it even now ? for I feel it mantling my cheek. This, too, when the heart is calling from its most secret recess, where its choicest treasures are bestowed, the image of a most dear and cherished friend. And while memory also is boasting her treasures of bright reminiscences gathered from the happy past. I repeat, whence does the mantling blush now spring? the answer must be given: — it is from non-compliance with a most reasonable request of my best friend. I confess my fault with deep penitence. Will you accord me a pardon, all of ' grace ? ' I plead nothing in extenuation.

" My dearest friend, I need not tell you how warmly my thanks and gratitude are yours, for the kind assurances your letter contained. I love to think that in heart so unselfish and kind, one little spot is reserved for an affectionate and devoted friend. Surely my heart would not forfeit

FRIENDSHIP EOOKS. 17

its title there for all the world esteems and values. Thrice happy are they who find such a retreat from the noise and insensibility of the world. The world, with me, is another name only for the most chilling self-interest. Yet I know not altogether why I am the misanthrope 1 find myself. I have not personally felt either its malice or coldness. My bark has, thus far, been wafted gently and calmly along ; neither assailed by storms nor shaken by tempests. I have met with kindness and sympathy wherever I have been. Yet have I seen merit undervalued, virtue despised, and goodness treated with scorn and contempt. I have seen the noblest actions attributed to the basest motives. The noblest spirits crushed and broken by its bitter envy and malice, — their brightest hopes darkened, — yea, and forever destroyed. It is such injustice, such crimes as these, which induce a feeling of misanthropy, and make me loathe a world that has inflicted on me no individual suffering. I, too, have thought it very inconstant. This idea, also, is derived from observation rather than experience. Yet I have not judged by my own heart in this particular ; for surely its trust once fixed, it would : ask no change for ever. But pardon these sad musings, and these severe judgments, as you will no doubt regard them.

" To change the distasteful topic, let me answer your question relating to Bulwer's ' Pilgrims of The Rhine.' I do not much like the manner in which the book is written. The fairies tried my patience exceedingly. Was it not strange that the author should have intrusted the destinies of an angel like Gertrude to the keeping of beings governed by every thing mortal? Had he given it to the rapt seraph to keep and protect, he would have been honored by such a jewel in possession. What a lovely picture of paradise she is, — how much too pure for earth, — how like a zephyr wafted gently to heaven. And Trevellyn, is he not 2* a noble spirit, — his love, how perfectly pure, and generous ! It formed a part of himself, — the nobler part of his being. How his character was modified by its influence ! Pride, coldness, sternness, fled at his approach, — nature herself yielded to its powerful sway. The legendary lore interwoven is full of interest, but deeply tinged with a dark superstition. . . .

" Do not suppose that my reading is confined at all to this species of literature. I read a tale occasionally, and only as a relaxation from some severer task. When I make use of this resort, I seek for one that has been pronounced good; frequently I find myself disappointed, acting upon another's judgment: again, as in this case, I am much pleased. There is something in true genius, however directed, that excites deep admiration, and its contemplation ever makes me happy.