Memoir and letters of Jenny C. White Del Bal.

Front matter

r'v.

4 o

V,

Preface

To the Reader:

Before unlocking for you the sacred door of a life now ended, and revealing its hidden treasures, we must ask your charity. We will retrace with you the blessed steps of our favored child, while our hearts are still bleeding and our soul heavily laden with grief for the loss of the departed ones.

In yielding to the request and advice of many friends to do this work, we have also yielded to a voice within, that so impelled us on, that we have almost believed some other spirit than our own crushed one has guided our pen and given our soul strength to meet the demand made upon it.

The following beautiful letters will explain, better than we can, the motive

m

IV PREFACE.

that moved us to this task of love and duty.

As a writer, forget the author of this imperfect memoir, and only remember that a mother seeks to steal unseen to your hearthstone, and there lay down her hearts treasure, the life of a child she loved too well, and share with you its memories and its fruit

PREFACE.

LETTER OF REVEREND B. O'REILLY,

Adopted Brother of James W. Whtte.

Woonsocket, November 3d, 1867.

My dear Sister, — I profit by the very first leisure hour, since my return from Glen Ellen, to ask of you to do — and do immediately — a service, not merely to that brave old race to which James W. White belonged, but to many a noble soul among the great American people, by writing and publishing some memoir of his heroic and saintly daughter.

Surely I am not unduly prejudiced in favor of your high-souled child, when I say, that among the many women who have left blessed memories behind them in this New World of ours, very few indeed have accomplished more than your Jenny in the brief space of four years.

It is not to her name, or for the gratification of her family, that I should wish a monument to be raised by the publication of her life and letters. That brave little heart, whose every secret I knew, was not one disposed to court public praise at any time ; and now that she has her surpassing reward in the possession of God, what we all may think or say of her can touch her but little.

It is for our own benefit, — for the instruction of every succeeding generation of American youth, — that I desire to see the hidden beauties of that short but fruitful life made known in every household in our land.

VI

PREFACE.

New Granada now weeps over that grave so suddenly opened, and that career of public beneficence and domestic saintliness cut short in its early and glorious prime. We, too, have wept ; but we have also rejoiced that one so pure, so energetic, so blessed of God and man, should have gone from our shores, like a vessel filled with sweetest and most healing perfumes, to embalm with her fragrance her husband's native land.

Let us not merely rejoice and glory, but endeavor to imitate and hold up to others the incomparable eloquence of such examples. As you have been a most blessed wife in possessing such a husband as James W. White, so are you now thrice blessed in the memory of having borne and reared, — of having trained and sent forth to a life of untiring devotedness to all that is good and heroic, crowned by the martyrdom of charity, — such an apostle as Jenny White del Bal.

What wife, what mother, ought not to envy you ? And how many there are who draw nearer to you since God has wounded the public heart by two such successive losses, within a few months, as the deaths of your husband and oldest daughter!

Crown your own labors now, and perfect your merit, by leaving to every family in America a memorial of true womanly worth, and a model of all natural and supernatural grace and goodness, in some published record of your child. You will thus do a good deed, and leave behind you a last (perhaps not your least) good work.

It will be a consolation to you, in the great twofold

PREFACE, VII

grief which has come upon you so unexpectedly, to make your daughter live once more for the edification and encouragement of us all here in the United States, after having so well taught her how to be a beam of light and gladness to Santiago and its neighborhood.

Lose not a moment, then, in preparing some memoir of Jenny ; and no one shall more rejoice at its appearance, or be more anxious to profit by its teachings, than Your devoted brother,

B. O'Reilly.

LETTER OF ARCHBISHOP McCLOSKY.

New York, April 12th, 1868.

Dear Mrs. White, — I have read with lively interest the brief notice, which has appeared in the New York " Evening Post," of your dear lamented daughter, Mrs. del Bal.

A life so beautiful, so full of bright example, deserves a more extended and more enduring record ; and I hope what I hear is true, that a memoir is being prepared by yourself, or under your immediate supervision. There is no pen by which it can be more truthfully or skilfully traced than by your own.

It will, I am sure, be most acceptable, not alone to the large circle of friends who, like myself, still remember

YIII PREFACE.

the gifted and exemplary " little Jenny White," as she was here seen and known under her parental roof, — or who, at a later date, were witnesses of her saintly virtues and daily acts of heroic charity in the country which, after marriage, became her home ; but it will be acceptable also to very many besides of the general public, especially to those of her own sex, to which she was so truly a pride and ornament in life, and to which in death she has bequeathed such a beautiful example.

Be pleased to accept once more the expression of my warmest sympathies, and, believe me, dear madam, Your sincere friend, and servant in Christ,

John McClosky, Archbishop of New York.

LETTER OF MISS MARY L. BOOTH,

A well-known and distinguished writer.

New York, April '29th, 1868.

My dear Friend, — . . . . I am truly glad that the memoir of my friend Jenny will be given to the world. So pure and lovely a life ought to be chronicled for the benefit of the thousands of women, who only wait for pioneers to march before them in a path of duty ; and surely no one can so fittingly perform this task as the mother who knew every emotion of her nature, and every step of her career ; who had not only watched but trained her

PREFACE. IX

developments, and to whose wise counsels and beautiful example she owed something of her blossoming into perfect womanhood.

Short as was her existence, it was running over with noble effort and achievement, and effected more than would have been done by a score of idling Methuselahs.

That this good work may go on beyond the tomb, I am sure would be her most earnest wish, could she utter it to

mortal ears Write to me whenever you

can, and believe me

Cordially your friend,

Mary L. Booth.

LETTER OF THE VICOMTE DE CHABROL,

Intimate Friend of Cochin and other leading statesmen of France, of high-toned honor and principles, and acknowledged admirers of the American government.

Paris, Rue de l'Universite,

February 26th, 1868.

Madam, — I had already learned, by letter from Mrs. Ward, of New York, the sad loss inflicted on your family, as well as on the entire Catholic community of New York, by the death of Judge White. As one of my friends, the young Prince de Broglie, was leaving at that very moment for the United States, I had given him for you a letter, in which I expressed my feelings of sincere admiration and profound respect for this great Christian man, and this citizen so devoted to his country. It may

X PREFACE,

be that M. de Broglie has not been able to find out your new address, and thus my letter may not have reached you.

Doubtless you must have thought, madam, that I was ignorant of your bereavement, or that I did not feel for you. Do not, I beseech you, harbor such a thought for a moment. After the welcome given me in your country, and in the bosom of your family, I cannot look upon myself as a total stranger either to the one or the other ; and I therefore claim, as a friend, a share in your overwhelming sorrow.

I am convinced that the publication, contemplated by you, of the letters of your daughter must be both useful to others and beneficial to your own heart, as well as to the cause of our holy faith, which needs to be illustrated by such noble examples. I should, therefore, be most happy to help you in any way in this labor

I shall also consult the most competent judges in such matters, and do myself the honor of sending you a frank and full answer. It would be — allow me to repeat it, madam — a great happiness to me to co-operate in such a good work as this.

Believe me, I pray you, madam, everything which can bring back to my recollection the memory of your revered family, and of the happy days I spent in New York, shall be ever dear to me, and shall renew the feelings of gratitude, of which I beg you to accept the expression.

VlCOMTE DE CHABROL.

Jenny C White del Bal.

Chapter I

BIRTHPLACE OF JENNY C. WHITE DEL BAL — CHILDHOOD.

In the lovely valley of the Chenango, beautifully nestled in the shadow of the mountains, stands an honored family mansion. Fifty summers have adorned its grounds with beauty of tree and vine, of flower and shade. That old home was the pride and treasure of its owners ; for it was " The Nest," as they named it, in which they had nurtured a large family, and then sent them forth to honor and adorn the sphere for which they had educated them.

To this "Nest" children and grandchildren were lovingly, one and all, recalled each year, when spring and summer brought back to it sunshine, birds, and flowers ; and long will the light of those happy days gleam upon their path " though the sunbeam has passed away." They are gone now who were the life and centre of that old mansion.

It was during one of these bright sunny visits that

Jenny C. White del Bal was born under the roof of her maternal grandfather, in the year 1835, September 1st, and welcomed with joy as the first-born grandchild in both families of General Thomas G. Waterman and Edward White, her maternal and paternal grandparents, both then residing in the beautiful town of Binghamton.

General Thomas G. Waterman, a distinguished lawyer, and one of the leading men in the State of New York, married the eldest and accomplished daughter of General Joshua Whitney, the founder and patron of the town to which he gave the name of Binghamton.

Edward White, a model Irish gentleman of the old school, married the eldest sister of Gerald Griffin, on which occasion the joy-bells of Limerick were rung to honor the young bride and groom. This eminently worthy couple were the first apostles of the Catholic Church in this part of the State of New York and on the borders of Pennsylvania. Their labors for the faith still bear fruit, and will long be remembered by the children of those to whom they secured such spiritual blessings.

Jenny's father, James W. White (eldest son of Edward White), a lawyer and afterwards Judge of the Superior Court of the city of New York, like every member of his family, was a zealous and exemplary Catholic. Her mother, Rhoda E. White (eldest daughter of General Waterman), at the time of Jenny's birth was an Episcopalian.

Mrs. Waterman, a woman of fine mind and generous nature, advised her daughter (Jenny's mother) to have the child baptized, when four weeks old, in the faith of her father, for whom Mrs. Waterman felt the most motherly love and profound respect. Jenny was baptized, at the house of Edward White, by Rev. Father Bradley, the day before her parents set out to return to their home in New York city. Two years after, her mother became a Catholic, and from that time began to teach Jenny the lessons of that holy faith.

Lessons at two years old ? Yes, even at that early age the seed, good or bad, is sown and quickly takes root. A proof that the virtues of self-denial and obedience were understood by the child, at an early age, may be found in the following incidents.

It was thought advisable that Jenny should go with her uncle to Binghamton for a short visit. She was now nearly three years old, and had never been separated from her mother, but was the petted idol of her parents' hearts. Yet she had learned that to love them was to do willingly whatever they required of her, and from the time she could understand what was said to her, she was taught acts of love, obedience, and generosity; namely, to give away her playthings, sometimes, when they were amusing her most, and was told to be good and not to cry if her mother was obliged to leave, because, if she did so, she would make her mother unhappy. How beautifully this first lesson was put in practice many years after, will be seen by and by.

When she was told that it was best for her to go, without her mother, to visit her Grandmother White a short time (she was then not quite three years old), it was a great grief to her little heart, and a greater one to her 2 mother ; yet she saw the preparations made for her departure without complaint.

Her father and mother desired to divert her mind, and took her, the night before she left home, to the then most attractive place of amusement in New York, — Niblo's Garden. It was filled with exquisite plants and flowers ; orange and lemon groves persuading the beholder that he had, with a fairy wand, been suddenly transported to the land of the ever-summer zone. A thousand lamps of every color shed a soft and bewitching light upon every little grotto and bower, and the long-arched vista that cheated the eye, doubling and redoubling its length to an interminable extent by the arrangement of mirrors at the end of the garden, will be well remembered by our New Yorkers, who thirty years ago enjoyed this pure and luxurious place of recreation and amusement.

Walking from their residence in White Street to this Garden, on this summer evening, Jenny held her mother's hand all the way tightly grasped, and thought her so absorbed in the conversation with her father that she was not observed, so she gave way to her feelings, — pressed and repressed, and kissed it again and again, and held it to her lips till at last her tears fell fast upon it. It was with difficulty her mother forebore from snatching her to her arms and responding to the feelings of the child ; but it was better not to encourage her loneliness when it seemed best for her to leave home for a while.

The first exclamation Jenny made, on entering the Enchanted Garden, was, "O mamma, is this like heaven ? "

The next day, when her parents accompanied her to the boat, and left her with her Uncle John White on the upper deck, she stood upon a bench by his side, looking out upon the wharf and tossing kisses with her hand to them, appearing quite happy. The moment the steamboat was out of sight of those on shore, the little creature burst into an uncontrolled fit of crying, and hid her face for half an hour in her uncle's bosom. Quite distressed by this outburst of feeling, he endeavored to pacify her with promises of every kind of amusement and pleasure \ yet still she sobbed and could not be comforted.

At last he said, " Why, Jenny, if you had cried when we were first on the boat, I would not have taken you away. I thought you were very happy and wished to come with me."

" I would not cry before mamma, Uncle John," she answered, "because it would make her feel badly; but now I cannot help it."

This same generous nature, in after years, enabled her to hide her sorrows from those around her when she knew they would give them pain.

When she reached Binghamton, her grandparents and every one who saw her were surprised by her remarkable intelligence, particularly in all that related to religious duties or matters of conscience, and her lovely gentleness of manner won all hearts.

Her young uncle, William Waterman, only four years her senior, was her playmate, and loved her as an own sister. In play she was a hearty participator in everything like frolic, and acted the part of a young lady to perfection.

While she sang and improvised, accompanying herself on a corn-stalk guitar made by him, he would listen for hours entranced ; but, boylike, could not resist the temptation to tease her occasionally. The only opportunity he could find was when she knelt before her "idols," as he called them ; then she clasped her little hands and looked so demurely attentive, he could not help trying to distract her attention, and more than once his mother reproved him for his attempts to cheat her into disobeying the rule to abstain from meat on Friday !

Her obedience was well tested on this visit, where every one desired to please her and gratify her taste. Her Grandmother White wrote to her parents : " Jenny is the sweetest child I ever saw. Why, James, Rhoda is rearing a saint for heaven ! Nothing can induce her to violate any commands ever given her by her mother, or do anything she thinks mamma would not like."

Again, she wrote : " I take charge of the church and altar. Jenny is very fond of helping me. She can carry some of the things from the house to the church when we have a priest here to say mass, and this delights her. But you remember, Rhoda, how fond of teasing your Uncle Vincent is. # He loves to catch Jenny on the wa}r, and ask her questions about the ceremonies of the Church, in order to hear her wise answers. The other day we were coming home from a baptism. Jenny's arms were full. Among other things she carried the

* Judge Vincent Whitney was very liberal in his ideas of Catholicity, and much attached to Jenny and her family.

salt-cellar. The little rogue saw her uncle coming, and hid it under her apron. 'Ah, Jenny,' said he, 'what have you there ? ' laughing immoderately, for he saw her hide something. Out it came ! Then followed his questions, ' How can salt baptize a child ? ' etc., etc. But the little dame stood her ground heroically ; no ridicule could make her deny her faith."

Before her uncle returned to New York, after this visit, he went with Mrs. Waterman and Miss Whitney to Saratoga. Jenny accompanied them. She attracted much attention. Exceedingly graceful and full of animation, she danced like a fairy, and even at that age sang some songs sweetly. We remember how much she amused Archbishop Hughes with her coquettish grace in dancing. The purity of her language and her beautiful articulation were remarked by every one who heard her speak.

A poet at Saratoga was so captivated by her spiritual yet childlike face and her lady-like manner, that he expressed his admiration of her in a beautiful poem, addressed to the child, which he gave her. Years after, we were told, he tried in vain to find her, but, forgetting her name and residence, could not trace her. Should these pages meet his eye, her family wish to acknowledge the compliment, the remembrance of which is now more than ever agreeable to them.

Before Jenny was six years old she perfectly understood and practised self-imposed penance. When she felt she deserved punishment for any offence of which her mother was ignorant, she immediately administered it to herself. Her mother often saw her throw aside her playthings and with guilty, downcast look walk away and seat herself in a corner with her face to the wall.

Her greatest horror was to be immersed in cold water. When she was still very young, the chambermaid found her in her room, down upon her knees before a large basin of icy cold water, into which she was dipping her little head, curls and all, to the very bottom, each time she came up saying, " This is to make me dood ; this is to make me dood ; " and down again and again, till prevented by the servant.

Her mother remarked that frequently when going upstairs she would turn her head back and shake her long ringlets defiantly, whispering something indistinctly, "Chew," "chew," "chew."

" Jenny, why do you do so ? " inquired her mother ; "it is not lady-like."

" Mamma, I am spitting on the devil ; he will try to make me naughty, and I say to him, Get away, get away."

In years after, good Bishop Byrne, who was for a time her spiritual director, loved to tease her. It was only necessary for him to say, " Go away, go away, chew, chew, chew," to make her hide her face and run away.

At five years of age, Jenny showed such remarkable talent for music that she was allowed to amuse herself by playing upon the piano by ear, not deeming it prudent to tax her mind (already too precocious) to learn by note.

Her mother played and sang ; and, during her daily practising, Jenny always sat by her side, listening with the greatest attention and delight.

At six her mother taught her music, and the child so loved sacred music that she learned to chant the vespers in Latin correctly, and sang with so much devotion and feeling, that no one could listen to her without pleasure and edification.

One day, in her mother's absence, Bishop Byrne called to the house, bringing with him two or three priests. Jenny was playing with her dolls in the play-room, but ran down to meet him, with her dress turned up around her waist to represent the busy housewife. " She entered," said the bishop, "with all the dignity and address of a lady of the world, and welcomed us as her mother would have done. ' Come, Jenny,' said I, ' give us some music before we go.' Up she climbed with difficulty upon the piano-stool, and sang several of the vesper hymns in Latin, with all the ease in the world, remarkably well ; but, getting down, she, for the first time, observed her dress. l Oh my ! oh my ! Jenny,' said I, ' what will be done now ? ' " The good bishop loved to repeat this little circumstance, and could long after enjoy the remembrance of her perplexity on that occasion. She had forgotten her own appearance in her effort and desire to entertain them.

A friend — Mrs. Judge Bosworth — writes to us : "I think the most lovely trait in Jenny's character was her self-sacrificing disposition — her forgetfulness of herself to do her duty or to please others. I remember, when she was quite young, I was at your house one afternoon. Jenny was engaged on a piece of work which she was very anxious to finish that day. A poor man was very ill, and needed some clothing ; you desired Jenny to lay aside her work and help us to finish the articles needed. It was a great disappointment, we knew ; but she laid aside her work without showing the slightest mark of regret. I often gave it as an example of the cheerful performance of duty."

Chapter II. Childhood — Continued

The family increased, and Jenny became more and more a beautiful example to the younger members of the household, who looked upon her as their little Guardian Angel, without whose presence they could not be happy. One of her little brothers, three and a half years old, who died soon after, lamenting her absence from home, inquired with much feeling, "Mamma, when will sister Jenny come home ; I am so sorry she is away ; I feel to cry, I love her so." The little fellow went every night, till she returned, and kissed her pillow and any article of hers that came in his way.

With children of all ages, who knew her, Jenny was a favorite. When ten years of age she was chosen Queen of the May, by the unanimous vote of her companions. They met at her house on the eve of May, twenty or thirty in number, and announced the election, — a surprise to her which her blushing cheek could not conceal from them. The following day they returned, dressed in white dresses, with garlands of flowers, to do honor to their chosen one. A throne was erected, over which were clouds of white and blue lace reaching to the ceiling. The maids of honor knelt before her, declaring in song " the Queen, the loveliest flower of spring," while another placed upon her head a crown of white roses and conducted her to the throne, which she ascended with the sweetest modesty ; and then, with mock dignity and imperial power, gave forth her mandates for the coming year, concluding with, " Let every subject in my realm henceforth seek to make themselves and others happy."

This was received with uproarious approbation, and wa« followed by singing and dancing (garland dances having been prepared for the occasion). Pretty offerings were laid at her feet. Among them was a poem commemorating the happy occasion, and setting forth in brilliant colors the virtues of the newly made queen. And " better than she knew " did the poetess with prophetic truth foretell that she should reign the queen of many hearts and climes ! Strangely did the childhood life of Jenny foreshadow her future !

In other years these flowers of her soul — generosity, obedience, piety, and humility — grew deeper tinted, and shed a wider fragrance around. They early bloomed, and have left their seed to adorn the earth for us.

The remarkable proficiency Jenny made in music attracted much attention. Her voice was peculiarly sweet, and her whole soul expressed in it. She heard Jenny Lind sing, and desired very much to sing like her, and daily prayed that she might have the gift of song. Not for vanity, for she had been taught that God had given her a talent for music to be used for a holy motive, and that perhaps another would have made even better progress than she had done. This she believed and repeated often, when praised by friends who, far and near, sent for her to play and sing for them.

During the summer, about this time, the family went to White Plains. It was her habit to go every day to a beautiful grove near the house and practise her voice. Before she had sung Jenny Lind's bird-song there many times, flocks of birds came warbling around her, in the high branches over her head, and answered her call. She listened to them until she could so perfectly imitate them, that, at any time she went to the grove, she could call them around her by her own sweet warbling ; and all who heard her sing the bird-song, wondered how she could have learned those sweet notes.

Jenny was to her parents not only the loved child, but companion, — with her mother an inseparable one. They played, and sang, and read, and studied together, surrounded by the younger children, who were (with the exception of the infant) always in the parlor, where their mother taught them.

Although no burthen of teaching was put upon her while she pursued her own studies under her mother's tuition, Jenny had acquired a motherly care over the little ones, and it amused the family to hear her say, " Mamma, our children must do so and so ! "

In the strict observance of their religious duties, Jenny was a watchful guide. They playfully declared there was no chance for turning over in bed for a second nap if she called, " Come, children, up, up, up. You know mamma said you must go to mass this morning ; it is a holiday ! "

And away they went, sometimes when it was scarcely daybreak, to early mass, with their unmerciful little Guardian Angel, their eyes half closed in sleep.

And then at prayers, even the pious little Nell, afterwards a nun, would rebel sometimes, and say, " Mamma, when we go with Jenny, to say prayers for you and papa, she prays for everybody, — the whole human family, I do believe." And another, less zealous, would add, " She keeps us too long, mamma ; " at which the little culprit would only smile ; but not one sinner less would be prayed for the next day.