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Autobiography 
 
 ^'7 OF 
 
 ^■^ y - 
 
 Mrs. Fletcher. 
 
 IVITII LETTERS AND OTHER FAMILY 
 MEMORIALS. 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 THE SURVIVOR OF HER FAMILY. 
 
 1 ii 
 
 r? 
 
 " We live by Admiration, Hope, and Love, 
 And even as these are well and wisely fixed 
 In dignity of being we ascend." 
 
 The Excursion. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS. 
 
 1876. 
 
J] A 5-36 
 
 Cambridge : 
 Press of Johti Wilson <S^ Son. 
 
T 
 
 Ja>u/id^{?7zJ^ 
 
 .^^1.5. 
 
 ^A.c^^nyy<xA^/^u/7^^^a.ile/u^ 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 In going through the first issue of my Mother's Auto- 
 biography (which was intended solely for private circula- 
 tion), with a view to its publication, I have found it 
 extremely difficult to make. any change in the book without 
 injury to its interest. I therefore let it go before the public 
 with very little alteration, from the feeling that although 
 unknown as a writer of books, the use she made of Life has 
 an interest of its own which makes the publication of this 
 volume less presumptuous than it would otherwise have 
 been. 
 
 I confess that it is a great pleasure to me to feel that one 
 whose estimate of her own place in the world was always so 
 modest, and who never anticipated the circulation of her 
 Autobiography beyond the circle of her friends and de- 
 scendants, should still excite so much interest in " the city 
 of her affections " as to make the call for this publication 
 one I was glad to yield to, and I have therefore left the 
 book very much the same as it was, except with the addition 
 of some letters from those among her friends not unknown 
 to the world by their own words and works. 
 
 M. R. 
 
 Lanckigg, April, 1875. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 Birth at Oxton, January, 1770 —Her mother's death — Her mother's friendship 
 at school — Mrs. Brudenell's history — Happy childhood at Oxton — The 
 Dawson family — Mrs. Brudenell's separation from her husband, 1776— Set- 
 tles at Oxton — The mother-want supplied by Aunt Dawson — Cousins at 
 Wighill Grange— Happy days there- The Hill family— Her aunt Mary 
 Hill — Her love of hunting cured — Mr. Hill's letter to his son, 1767- Tra- 
 ditions in the Hill family of Grace Hill and Will Hill at Marston Moor — Sir 
 George Savile in 1779 — Traditions of her youthfrtl days — Sampler disclos- 
 ures — Account of Oxton scenery and May-day festivities — First grief going 
 to Manor School — Life there — Friendships formed there — Leaves school in 
 summer, 1785 — Home life and happiness — Happy Highland tour — Ann 
 Yearsley, E. Anthony, and Sarah Watson the good servant — Death of 
 grandmother, 1787 — First lovers— First meeting with Mr. Fletcher, 1787 — 
 First impressions deepened in 1788 — Rev. E. Cartwright's friendsliip — 
 George Crabbe's visit with his wife — Recollections of John Wesley — Rev. 
 J.Clowes — Second vi.sit to Perth — Visit to Ripon — Lord Grantley — Mr. 
 Fletcher's letter in 1787 — Correspondence continued with Mr. Fletcher — 
 Her father's strong opposition to the marriage — Her engagement — Extract 
 from letters to Mr. Fletcher — Marriage, 16th July, 1791 — Sorrowful feel- 
 ings—Reflections on that event r— Letter to Miss Cleaver— Mr. Cartwright's 
 lines to E. D. in a blank leaf of Lavater's work Page 1 
 
 PART IT. 
 
 Early married life and happiness — Letter to Mrs. Laycoek — Edinburgh friend- 
 ships formed — Society there- Thomas Muir — Her father's first visit in 
 1792 — Great joy to her — Birth of eldest son in September, 1792 —Visit to Mr. 
 Fletcher's mother in Bannoch, 1793 — Second visit from her father in 1794 — 
 Birth of her daughter Elizabeth — State Trials — Home life and happiness — 
 Benevolent interests — Her father's death in 1798 — First impression of Lyrical 
 Ballads in 1798 — Edinburgh Society in 1802 — Edinburgh Review and Henry 
 Brougham — First visit to London — Friendship formed with Joanna Bail- 
 lie and Mrs. Barbauld — Summer at Dalnieny — T. Campbell's friendship 
 formed — Her delight in her children —Mr. Brudenell's death — His wife's 
 succession to her estate — Mournful visit to Hebburn — Mrs. Brudenell takes 
 a house at the English Lakes — Summer there — 1806 — Great enjoyment at 
 Belmont — Elizabeth Smith's death — Friend.ship with her mother — Mrs. 
 Brudenell's death, 1806 — Her character — Leaves her estate to Mrs. Fletcher 
 
i CONTEXTS. 
 
 — The summer of 180T spent tliere — Lord Tankerville's society —Visit to 
 Bamboroiigh— ^'isit to Haggerstone Xiinueiy — Xu Alnwick Castle — Let- 
 ter to Mrs. Stark from Hebburn— Vis-it in UOS to Liverpool — :Mr. Koscoe — 
 Mr. Eathbone— Mr. Greg's Quarry Bank— 1810 — A country-house at 
 FranktieUl on the Esk— Great enjoyment in walks there, and in society of 
 friends and strangers — ISll — Places her eldest daughter at Mrs. Bar- 
 bauld's — Letters from Mrs. Barbauld — Letter to her daughter G F. — To 
 Mrs. Stark — From G. F. to her mother on Sarah Watson — Letters from 
 ]Miss Aikin to Mrs. F. — 1815 — From Mrs. Barbauld— From Mrs. Brunton 
 
 — First summer at Park Hall — Manner of life there — Benefits of Tad- 
 caster life — Letter from Allan Cunningham- Marriage of eldest daughter, 
 1814 _ Winter of 1816-17 in Edinburgh — Illness of Grace in April — Death, 
 16th April, 1817 — Return to Park Hall — Letters on that event . . Page 62 
 
 PART III. 
 
 Marriage of M. A. Fletcher to iliss Claver ing, December, 1817 —Visit to London 
 with her daughters, 1819 — Mrs. Fry and Newgate — Robert Owen — William 
 Godwin — Lord Erskine's visit to Edinburgh — Letters to daughter Mary, 
 1820 —Summer at Callander — Farmer Buchanan — Letter to Mrs. Stark on 
 Callander summer — Summer at Coniston, 1821 — Death of Mrs. Craik — 
 Account of Allan Cunningham — Letter to him in 1822 — Visits to Miss Ken- 
 nedy and Mr. and Mrs. Greg, in Cheshire — Professor Smyth of Cambridge, 
 and T E. Cnrrie there- Return to York — Winter there, 1821-22 — Return 
 to Edinburgh, summer 1822 — George IV. 's visit — Mrs. Grant of Laggan's 
 loyalty — Highland gratitude — Sir Walter Scott — Crabbe the poet— Wil- 
 liam Wolfe Tone — Letter to Mrs. Stark on T. E. Currie — Interest in Home 
 for young delinquents — .Winter of 1822-23 — Maria Edgeworth in Edinburgh 
 — First impressions of her — Take her to Sir R. Liston's — Letters to her 
 daughters on meeting Brougham and Denman — Viewfield incidents — 
 Visit to Honorable Mrs. H. Erskine — Sinclair Culleii's visit — Marquis 
 and Marquise de Bossi — Settle at Auchindinny House, April, 1821 — En- 
 joyment there — Death of Mrs. Barbauld — Her character — Visit to Edin- 
 burgh— 1826-7 — The ''Great Unknown" reveals himself — Letter to Mrs. 
 Laycock — Return to Auchindinny in spring — Hear of Angus Fletcher's 
 illness at Rome — His return home — Recovery there — Jlr. Fletcher's ill- 
 ness — E. Taylor's death — Miles A. Fletcher's serious illness — His letter 
 to his mother — Mr. Fletcher's death — Accoiint of "Dramatic Sketches" 
 printed the winter before — Letters about them —Sinclair CuUen's Lines to 
 E. F., 1826 — Letters to her daughters in 1825 — Letter from T. Campbell on 
 Theodoric Page 133 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 Leave Auchindinny, January, 1829 — Go to Tadcaster — Letter to Dr. F. Boott 
 — Take a cottage at Bilton near Rugby — Our neighbors there— First meet- 
 ing with Dr. and Mrs. Arnold — Letter to Mrs. Craig — School-house at 
 Rugby — Mr. Keble — Visit of Dr. John Davy — Mrs. Penrose's meeting with 
 
CONTENTS. vu 
 
 Mrs. Fletcher — Marriage of Margaret Fletcher and Dr. Dary, on March 
 8, 1830 — Visit to London and Paris — Visit to the Abb6 Gregoire — General 
 de Lafayette — His kindness — The historian Mignet — Paris and its insti- 
 tutions-Letter to Mrs. Thomson — Miles A. Fletcher's illness — Visit to 
 Edinburgh, and takes charge of his sons, when their parents go to Jersey 
 for winter — Mrs. Fletcher returns to Yorkshire— Letter to her daughter 
 Mary on Yorkshire Election, 1831 — Death of her son Miles, August, 1831 — 
 Letter to Mrs. Davy at Malta — Visit to Coniston and Brougham Hall — 
 Edinburgh winter — First popular Election there — Letter from T. Campbell 
 
 — Return to Tadcastur, 1833 — Letter to Mrs. Davy— Take lodgings at Thorney 
 How in July — First knowledge of Easedale — Visit to Southey — See much 
 of Wordsworth — Return to Tadcaster — York meeting in honor of Wilber- 
 force — Death of Aunt Dawson — Her character — Leave Tadcaster, May, 
 1834 — A month in London —Lord Brougham's kindness — A tour in North 
 Devon, and visit near Ilfracombe — Take a house near Ha wkshead — Return 
 of Dr. and Mrs Davy from Malta — Happy family meeting at Keen Ground 
 in May, 1835 — Take house at Darland Cottage near Chatham — Swiss tour in 
 June and July, 1836 — General La Harpe described in letter to Mrs. Boott — 
 Excursions in Kent — Wordsworth's visit at Darland, August, 1837— Visit to 
 London — First meeting witb Mazzini — Two letters from him to Mrs. F. — 
 Visit at Oxton on the way to Edinburgh — Take villa of Duncliffe — Kindness 
 of friends — Letters from George Ticknor, Boston, and Joanna Baillie — Aunt 
 Mary Hill's illness and death, 1839 — Lancrigg for sale — Dora Wordsworth's 
 letter — Purchase of Lancrigg — Take possession of it. May, 1840 —Walk with 
 Wordsworth in Easedale — Westmoreland workmen — Hartley Coleridge — 
 Mrs. Fletcher's illness, 1842- Dr. Arnold's death — Last winter at Dun- 
 clitfe — Return to Lancrigg as a residence — Christmas festivities — Sonnet 
 by Mr. Graves, 15th January, 1845 — Visit to Blackheath, April, 1845 — 
 Mazzini — Visit to Edinburgh, spring 1846 — Dr. Chalmers — Winter at Lan- 
 crigg — Spring at Leamington, London, and visits in South — To Lancrigg, 
 May, 1847 — Letter to Mrs. Chapnxan — Letter from Lord Jeffrey, May, 1847 
 
 — Her daughter Mary's marriage to Sir John Richardson, August, 1847 — 
 Visit to Liverpool, February ,J184S — Mrs. Rathbone — London and Haslar — 
 Letter to Mrs. Stark — Mary Barton and Mrs. Gaskell — Lines on 1st May, 
 1849, by E. F.— Letter to Sir J. Richardson — To her daughter Mary — 
 Meeting Chevalier Bunsen — Letters to Mrs. Boott and Mrs. Arnold — Let- 
 ters to Mrs. Burge and Mrs. Davy — London meeting with Mr. Rogers, April, 
 1850 — Death and funeral of Wordsworth — Letters to Lady Richardson — 
 Lines on leaving Grasmere Churchyard, April 27, 1850, by E. F. — Letter 
 from Joanna Baillie to Mrs. Fletcher — Letter to Harriet Martineau on 
 Somerset the slave — Letter to her daughter Mary, 1850 — Lord Cockburn to 
 Mrs. F. — Last Edinburgh visit — Her grandson Henry's marriage — Kossuth 
 
 — Mrs. Gaskell — Thomas Wright — London — Mazzini — Winter at Haslar 
 
 — To Mrs. Arnold, Fox How — To Mrs. Davy on her birthday, 1852 — Letter 
 to same about excursions from Haslar — Return to Lancrigg in April — 
 Visitors there. Sir Edward and Lady Parry — Lord Cockburn's letter to Mrs. 
 F , with his Life of Jelfrey, 1852 — Lines on Wordsworth and his sister — 
 Sonnet to Mrs. Fletcher by R. P. Graves on 84th birthday — Letters to Mrs. 
 Hughes and Mrs. Arnold — Letters from Mazzini — Death of Lord Cockburn 
 
 — Letter to Mrs. Hughes — Visit of Mrs. Empson — Meets Lord John Russell, 
 
vm CONTENTS. 
 
 1854 — SpringrfieM Lodge — "Winter — Letters on the return of troops — Let- 
 ter on PMward Richardson's death — Last month of housekeeping — Death 
 of Josephine Richardson — lUness and death of E. Davy, 1857 — Last letter 
 to Mrs. Stark, October, 1857 — Increasing depression — Death, 5th February, 
 1858 — Letter from Rev. R. P. Graves to Lady Richardson . . . Page 180 
 
 CONCLUDING CHAPTER Page 327 
 
 MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER, BY HER Mother .... Page 341 
 
 MEMOIR OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER, Advocate, by his 
 
 Widow Page 361 
 
U^- ^^V^y 
 
 "2^1^ 
 
 ,K-i9'?'7-ty^-^y J^'S 'y!>a^^'-t-'^t '- 
 
 ^^^M.. 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF MRS. FLETCHER. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 I WAS born on the 15th of January, 1770, at the village 
 of Oxton, near Tadcaster, in Yorkshire. My father was 
 descended from a respectable race of yeomen, his grand- 
 father having purchased a small estate in the township of 
 Oxton, in the time of Charles II., as appeai-s by the title- 
 deeds. His father, in addition to his paternal property, 
 rented a large farm at Wighill Grange, the property of the 
 Stapletons of Wighill Park. My mother was the eldest 
 daughter of "William Hill, Esquire, of Oxton, who inherited 
 a considerable estate, which had lineally descended to him 
 from the time of Queen Elizabeth, his ancestor being a 
 younger brother of the Hills of Marston. 
 
 My father was a man^-of quick parts and ingenuous 
 dispositions, but having a disinclination to the learned 
 languages as a boy, and a strong preference for figures, he 
 studied geometry and mensuration under the Rev. Mr. 
 Atkinson, of Thorp Arch, and was, at fifteen, apprenticed 
 to Mr. Lund, a land-surveyor and land-valuer, at Dring 
 Houses, near York. He was the eldest of four children, 
 and his father dying when he was about twenty, he 
 succeeded to the small estate at Oxton, which, with in- 
 dustrious attention to his business,, enabled him to marry 
 Miss Hill in 1768, when he established himself at Oxton. 
 My father and mother had been acquainted from their 
 
 1 A 
 
2 A UTO BIO GRA PII Y. 
 
 childhood ; for though her condition was somewhat 
 superior to his, yet his sister and she being at the York 
 Manor Boarding School together, and being neighbors in 
 the country, they were early thrown together, and could 
 scarcely remember the time when they did not love each 
 other better than they loved any one else. My mother's 
 early attachment was put to the test, for at the Manor 
 School she became intimate with a young lady of ancient 
 family and aristocratic connections, and, moreover, an 
 heiress, with whom my mother afterwards visited the then 
 fashionable places of resort, such as Bath and Clifton, as 
 well as London and Windsor, when Miss Hebburn occa- 
 sionally visited these places under the care of her maternal 
 aunt and guardian, Mrs. Johnstone. My mother's personal 
 attractions and pleasing manners brought many admirers 
 round her, but her tirst love made her indifferent to their 
 attentions, and in October, 1768, when she was twenty- 
 four years of age, she rewarded my father's constancy and 
 worth by becoming his wife. Their happiness was not of 
 long duration. At the end of the first year she had a still- 
 born male child, and at the beginning of the year 1770 
 she died of milk-fever, after child-birth of me. 
 
 Thus early deprived of the blessing of a mother's care 
 and tenderness, I became the object of my father's concen- 
 trated affections, and not of his only, but of those of his 
 mother, brother, and sister, who, on the death of his wife, 
 all became inmates of his family. Perhaps there never 
 was a more cherished infancy and childhood than mine ; 
 and if this did not make me selfish in the worst sense of 
 die term, I escaped that misfortune from having my affec- 
 tions and sympathy constantly exercised by feelings of love 
 and gratitude towards those around me. My grandmother, 
 "eldest of forms," was a woman of violent temper and 
 stronff affections. She exacted obedience and habitual 
 
HAPPY CHILDHOOD. 3 
 
 attention from all her family, and I was accustomed to see 
 her treated with the greatest respect by her sons and 
 daughter. She was kind and beneficent to her poor 
 neighbors. She used to send me with her tea-pot to the 
 sick cottagers, for tea was then a luxury confined to the 
 upper and middle classes — it formed no part of the diet of 
 the poor. The village people consisted of eight laborers' 
 families, three of whom had married from my grandmother's 
 service. It was a little patriarchal community. They treated 
 her with the same respect as if she were still their mis- 
 tress. She was always doing them some little offices of 
 kindness, in which she employed me likewise. I had one 
 favorite little village playmate, Polly Bovill. I never 
 was allowed to tyrannize over my humble companion, and 
 I think she died before I felt aware that there was any dis- 
 tinction of rank between us. I visited her many times a 
 day, when she was on her death-bed, and I remember being 
 struck by her saying, " I shouldn't like to be buried in Wig- 
 hill Churchyard, it is so lonely." 
 
 When I was about six years old, an event occurred which 
 probably had a considerable influence on my future char- 
 acter and fate. My mother's early friend, Miss Hebburn, 
 had married (I think twQ^^r three years before she did) 
 the Rev. Edward Brudenell, a descendant of Lord Car- 
 digan, and nearly related to the Duke of Montague. Mr. 
 Brudenell had served as aide-de-camp to his father in the 
 German war, and was induced to quit his profession of a 
 soldier and to enter the service of the Church for the sake 
 of a good living, the gift of which was in his family. This 
 unworthy motive for engaging in the profession of a clergy- 
 man was followed by such consequences as might have 
 been expected. The habits of dissipation he had acquired 
 in the army were not forsaken, and his marriage to an 
 heiress was a further step to the gratification of his 
 
4 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 expensive pleasures. He was a man of insinuating and 
 accomplished manners, but totally without moral or re- 
 ligious principle, and the selfish hardness of his heart 
 showed itself in utter disregard of the happiness of an 
 affectionate wife, and in the grossest indulgence in illicit 
 amours and profligate habits of expense. His wife brought 
 him two sons ; they both however died in infancy, and 
 after suffering every species of unkindness and indignity, 
 Mrs. Brudenell came to the resolution of parting from her 
 ungenerous and cruel husband. This resolution was not 
 hastily formed, and it was resolutely executed. She was 
 on a visit at my father's house at Oxton, and while there 
 wrote to inform Mr. Brudenell of her determination to 
 insist upon her separate maintenance or pin-money, as 
 fixed in her marriage settlement, and to part from him 
 whom she could no longer respect or love. Mr. Brudenell 
 suddenly appeared at Oxton, and after some conversation, 
 in which he opposed the resolution she had formed of a 
 final separation, saying that he chose " to keep up appear- 
 ances," they retired separately for the night. My grand- 
 mother, who was in Mrs. Brudenell's confidence, promptly 
 arranged that in the middle of the night two horses should 
 be in readiness to take this injured woman to a place 
 of concealment, accompanied by my aunt Miss Dawson. 
 Accordingly at midnight the fugitives escaped. My uncle 
 and aunt accompanied Mrs. Brudenell along a private road 
 about half a mile from my father's house, at the end of 
 which Mr. John Hartley (a trusty neighbor) was waiting 
 with two horses. Each of the gentlemen took one of the 
 ladies behind him on a pillion, and took the road to 
 Moor Monkton, a very sequestered village about nine miles 
 distant, where a relation of my grandmother's lived. In 
 that family they were hospitably received, and the gentle- 
 men returned to their respective places of abode, without 
 
HISTORY OF MRS. BRUDENELL. 5 
 
 any one suspecting that they had been concerned in the 
 adventure. Mrs. Brudenell had left a letter with my 
 grandmother for her husband, repeating her determination 
 to live with him no longer; and threatening that, if he 
 attempted to molest her or refused the separate mainten- 
 ance provided by her marriage settlement, she would throw 
 herself on the protection of the Duke of Montague, and 
 disclose the cruelty with which she had been treated. 
 The reverend gentleman knew the spirit and firmness of 
 his wife's character too well to risk such a disclosure. 
 She had borne much, for she had loved much; but when 
 she lost her children, she felt that there would be mean- 
 ness and degradation in living longer with a man who had 
 violated every principle of honor in his cruel infidelity to 
 her, and who no longer regarded her but as an object of 
 convenience. 
 
 On quitting her place of concealment, Mrs. Brudenell 
 visited some of her mother's connections in London, while 
 Mr. Brudenell made some arrangements with respect to 
 her estate of Hebburn in Northumberland, and he finally 
 agreed to allow her £100 a year. From the deranged 
 state of his own affairs, he found it expedient to accept 
 the appointment (obtained-^ for him by his half-brother, 
 General Philips) of chaplain to General Burgoyne's army, 
 along with a detachment of which he sailed for America 
 in the year 1776. 
 
 My father felt a strong interest in the friend of his late 
 wife. Her generous and affectionate disposition made her 
 cling to his young child as her mother's representative, 
 and my father offered her a small cottage on his property 
 at Oxton, if she could find repose and comfort in so hum- 
 ble a dwelling. She gladly accepted this asylum, and 
 having much taste for the elegancies of life, she soon 
 converted her little thatched house into a cottage ornee, 
 
6 ' AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 and established herself there with two maid-servants, when 
 I was between five and six years old. She devoted some 
 hours of every day to teaching me to read and work, but 
 this was the least part of my education from her. She 
 cultivated my taste for poetry, exercised my imagination 
 and heart by the history of her own eventful life, and 
 by other narratives calculated to excite and interest a 
 cliild. In truth, she supplied too much excitement to one 
 who was perhaps predisposed to strong emotions and keen 
 sensibility. She unwittingly supplied excitements to van- 
 ity, by making too great a display of my slender acquire- 
 ments. I was brought forward on every occasion to recite 
 passages from Pope's Homer or the Plays of Shakespeare, 
 and was accustomed to hear and to expect high commen- 
 dations of my wonderful powers and extraordinary accom- 
 plishments. If these dangerous stimulants had not been 
 comiteracted by the simple habits of a village life, and by 
 the cultivation of the affections, I must have become an 
 intolerable mass of conceit and pretension. 
 
 But here I must indulge in retracing more at length the 
 affectionate family group round our cheerful fireside in 
 the little parlor at Oxton. My grandmother, a beautiful 
 old woman, of quick and sensitive temper, uniting much 
 generosity of feeling with homely and frugal habits ; my 
 father, her eldest son, of a remarkably cheerful and hos- 
 pitable disposition. He became a widower at thirty years 
 of age. He had been an adoring husband to his first love, 
 and for many years he had so cherished his grief on losing 
 her that her name was never mentioned in his presence, 
 nor had he ever been able to enter the chamber where she 
 died. This gave to her character, and to his affection, a 
 sort of mysterious sacredness in my young imagination, 
 and excited in my mind a deep and tender interest in 
 everything that related to my mother. The loss of this 
 
FAMILY SKETCHES. 7 
 
 dear mother's tenderness was, however, supplied to me in 
 no common degree by my excellent aunt Dawson, one of 
 the most single-hearted and unselfish of human beings. 
 She was my father's only sister, and she took a siDecial 
 charge of me from the time of my mother's death, which 
 happened ten days after I was born. Night and day this 
 kind aunt watched over me. She had a meek and sub- 
 missive temper, with a considerable portion of eai'ly ro- 
 mance. She had good looks and gentle manners, and she 
 was sought by many lovers ; but, though in favor of one 
 of these her young heart was deeply interested, she reso- 
 lutely determined not to marry lest in that case my father 
 might give me a stepmother, who might not treat me 
 kindly. My poor grandmother was tormented with that 
 apprehension ; and listening at one time too credulously 
 to gossips' tales, she took it into her head that my fa- 
 ther's visits to a lady in the neighboring market town would 
 end in marriage. Not being able to extract a serious 
 denial of this report from my father, I well remember 
 the old lady's indignation rising to a high pitch at the 
 notion of this impending evil ; and • one day, taking me 
 by the hand, she said : " Child, you and I will beg our 
 way through the wide ^orld together rather than you 
 shall submit to the cruelty of a stepmother." With this 
 we set out together to leave my father's house, and were 
 trudging away to Wighill Grange, where her second son 
 lived on his farm, about three miles from Oxton. We 
 were in high heroics, for I remember — though then not 
 more than seven years old — thinking it would be a fine 
 thing to beg one's bread rather than submit to cruelty 
 and injustice. But we were soon overtaken in our Quix- 
 otic pilgrimage by Mrs. Brudenell and my aunt, who pre- 
 vailed on the old lady and her companion to return to their 
 comfortable home, where an explanation soon took place 
 
8 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 between her and my father. These " cataracts and breaks," 
 however, did not often interrupt the serenity of our lives. 
 Such exhibitions of temper might have lessened my love 
 and veneration for my father, against whom they were 
 most improperly directed, but such was his invariable 
 kindness that they had no such effect. My father's young- 
 est brother, William Dawson, also formed part of the 
 family, and was as indulgent to me as the rest. He was 
 passionately fond of music, and played beautifully on the 
 German flute. My aunt had a pleasing voice and a good 
 ear, and she sang sweetly. I had no young companions 
 in the family, but I was " mirth and matter " to them all. 
 I spent the early part of every day with Mrs. Brudenell, 
 and she spent the evening with us ; and music and story- 
 telling, recitations from Pope's Homer, or Shakespeare's 
 Plays, with sometimes a pool at commerce, or a game at 
 blind-man's-buff, were our evening recreations. 
 
 Mr. John Dawson, my uncle, at Wighill, had two chil- 
 dren, a son three years older and a daughter half a year 
 younger than me. That he might have the advantage 
 of attending a school at Tadcaster, my father took his 
 young nephew for a time to live with us. This boy was 
 a sad plague to me. He did not easily lose his own tem- 
 per, but he delighted to vex and put me in a passion, and 
 I attribute it somewhat to my early association with him 
 that it has cost me so much all my life to combat my 
 besetting sin — the being too easily provoked to anger. 
 His sister, Elizabeth Dawson, had the sweetest temper 
 possible. She and I never had a quarrel in our lives. 
 Her visits at Oxton were long and frequent. We were 
 delighted to be together. Though six months younger 
 than me, she could read well, when I could only say my 
 alphabet : the emulation she excited at six years old made 
 me give my mind to reading, and having once attained 
 
HER MOTHERS FAMILY. 9 
 
 that difficult art, I devoured every book that fell in my 
 way. There were then no books for children but fairy 
 tales, and JEsop's and Gay's Fables. My father's library 
 was upon a small scale; the Spectator, Milton's "Works, 
 Shakespeare's Plays, Pope's and Dryden's Poems, Her- 
 vey's Meditations, Mrs. Rowe's Letters, Shenstone's Poems, 
 Sherlock's Sermons, with some abridgments of history 
 and geography, filled his little book-shelves. To these 
 Mrs. Brudenell's store added a few other works, such as 
 Robertson's History of Scotland, Sully's Memoirs, Pope's 
 Homer, etc. My cousin Elizabeth and I cherished the 
 fondest friendship for each other. We contrived little 
 stories and acted them together, often weeping and laugh- 
 ing heartily over our own tragi-comedies. I returned her 
 visits at Wighill Grange, the only visits in which I had 
 then any pleasure, because there was no restraint. The 
 sheep-shearings there were days of great festivity. "We 
 milked the ewes, and had our dairy in a hollow tree, and 
 gathered garlands to celebrate the 1st of May, and cowslips 
 for making wine. My visits to my maternal grandfather's 
 house were not exactly of that description. Mr. Hill was a 
 man of very superior understanding, and an elegant classi- 
 cal scholar, a perfect gentleman in manners, with a mild- 
 ness and quietness approaching to Quakerism. He had an 
 utter contempt for the vanities and frivolities of life. He 
 lost his wife when his four daughters and his only son 
 were very young, and he then took as inmate, a niece of 
 his own, to be their guardian and companion. My mother, 
 his eldest daughter, was the only one he ever sent to a 
 boarding-school. He cultivated in them all a love of read- 
 ing, a taste for simple pleasures, and a strong sense of 
 usefulness and public good. He gave his son a liberal 
 education, having sent him to "Westminster School, and 
 entered him a student of Gray's Inn, preparatory to his 
 1» 
 
10 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 being called to the Bar. This young man, whether from 
 his mother's injudicious kindness in early childhood, or from 
 naturally headstrong passions, proved a great grief to his 
 family. With talents and acquirements of a high order 
 for his profession, he became such a lover of pleasure, and 
 such a slave to sensual habits, that without violating the 
 estimation of men of the world, he sacrificed professional 
 eminence and domestic respectability by his passion for 
 hunting and his indulgence in licentious dissipation. Mr. 
 Hill's three daughters were exemplary in their dutiful 
 attention to their father, and in their unwearied devotion 
 to the moral and religious education of the poor. They 
 established the second Sunday-school that was taught in 
 England, as early as the year 1784, having read in ''The 
 Gentleman's Magazine " an account of the first experiment 
 of the kind made by Mr. Raikes, a public-spirited printer 
 at Gloucester. My visits to these excellent relations when 
 I was a child were rather those of duty than inclination. 
 They were strict in their notions of duty and self-denial. 
 They had been educated themselves in a stoical school, and 
 neither claimed for themselves nor exercised towards others 
 much indulgence. Their notions were of too severe and 
 strict a cast to please a child accustomed to sympathy and 
 fond caresses, as I was at my father's house. The day I 
 was to spend with them was looked forward to as a day 
 of trial, and got over as a day of penance. Never shall I 
 forget how, at the end of a passage leading from their back 
 yard, I used to watch for John Copeland, an old man who 
 passed that way every evening to milk his cow at Oxton, 
 and beseech him to tell my grandmother to send for me 
 home, be the night ever so wet or stormy. These messages 
 were never neglected. John Bovill, an old Oxton cottager, 
 a favorite tenant of my father's, was duly despatched on 
 his gray mare, and, muffled in a red cloak, I rode before 
 
HER AUNT MARY HILL. ' 11 
 
 him, often through rain or snow, to the bright fireside, 
 where a kind and cheerful welcome always awaited me. 
 My grandfather and aunts Hill were not unkind to me ; 
 they were only reserved, and the ladies admonitory. They 
 gave me plenty of advice, but no sympathy ; they were 
 intelligent, just, and good, but they saw in me the faults of 
 a spoiled child, and thought it their duty to point them 
 out. I do not remember my grandfather's having ever in 
 his life taken me on his knee, or kissed me. He was to me 
 a very awful person, one before whom I was always on my 
 good behavior. At that time I liked my uncle Hill (by 
 far the least deserving of the family) much the best of 
 them all, because he used to play with me, and once he 
 took me before him on horseback a-hunting, which I then 
 considered the height of human happiness. But I was 
 cured of my passion for that sport by hearing the shriek 
 of the poor hare when the hounds pounced upon her. I 
 screamed louder than the hare ; the si3ortsmen laughed at 
 me, and when poor puss was dead, they swung her across 
 my shoulders, and I toiled home, half a mile, crying bitterly, 
 half proud, half ashamed of my trophy. I could not forget 
 the pitiful shriek of the poor hare, and never more wished 
 to go a-hunting. _ 
 
 As I advanced in life I learned to make a juster estimate 
 of the worth of my mother's family, and looked up to my 
 grandfather with real respect, and to my aunts with much 
 regard, especially the youngest, Miss Mary Hill, who, at the 
 time I am writing these reminiscences, is in her 85th year. 
 She has as strong and original a mind as I have ever known, 
 of high principle, and most extensive benevolence, with 
 more habitual self-denial than I have met with in any other 
 person. She bestows three fourths of her income to feed, 
 clothe, and instruct the poor. She is not indiscriminate in 
 her charities, but devotes herself in Christian love to her 
 
12 ■ AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Master's business. If she had been placed in circumstances 
 to exercise the smaller sympathies as well as the virtues 
 of charity and self-denial, hers would have been a more 
 attractive character ; but I have much personal cause of 
 gratitude to, as well as of veneration for her, and am 
 often reminded of the false estimate I see others make of 
 the value of things by comparing it with her practical 
 wisdom. At eighty-five, she declares old age to be the 
 happiest period of human life, because the most free from 
 cares and worldly anxieties, and the nearest to its heavenly 
 destination. 
 
 [Letter from Mr. Hill to his Sdn, in January^ 1767. 
 
 Dear Tom, — I am glad thou hast so far conquered the 
 pride and self-conceit that so commonly prevails over mankind 
 as to acknowledge thou hast thy share of it : this is a great 
 step, but thou must not stop here. A good general must not 
 only know how to gain a battle, but likewise how to turn it to 
 advantage, for pride will be always up in rebellion, and the 
 weeds and brambles are as constantly to "be plucked out of the 
 mind as they are out of a well-cultivated farm. Self-conceit* 
 has a like ill effect on the body by its close connection with the 
 mind, as from this source all that train of maladies called hyp 
 and vapors are derived, and the self-conceited man quarrels 
 with the W'orld because it does not pay that regard to his merits 
 he thinks he is entitled to, whereas the humble man is happy 
 in meeting with more respect than he thinks he deserves. As 
 these two different tempers have such different effects with 
 regard to mankind, so doubt not but they will have the like 
 with respect to the Author and wdse Governor of the universe, 
 whose protection thou must always seek, and whose guidance 
 thou must always rely on if thou hopest for happiness and 
 comfort. — •! am thy affectionate father, William Hill.] ^ 
 
 1 [There was a tradition in the Hill family which should not be omitted, 
 although not recorded by our mother herself, but kept in remembrance by 
 me, in the form of a sword presented to me in one of my early winters at 
 
TRADITIONS OF HER YOUTH. 13 
 
 My father was at this time, 1778, much employed as a 
 commissioner under various Acts of Parliament for enclos- 
 ing and dividing common land attached to townships, 
 while my uncle took the surveying department. This took 
 them much from home; and I well remember the joy 
 which ray father's return,' especially, diffused through all 
 his little household. I used to be on the watch for him at 
 our garden gate, listening for the tramp of his horse, hours 
 before his arrival. I had been diligently employed weed- 
 ing or watering his favorite flowers, or seeing his pointers 
 fed, and doing everything I thought would give me a claim 
 to his approbation. He was fond of his garden, and made 
 me a partaker in all his amusements there. On returning 
 home, he had always something new and amusing to relate, 
 and genei-ally some little present to bi-ing to each of us : 
 perhaps some fairy tales for me, a matronly ribbon for his 
 mother's neat mob-cap, or a new song for his sister. At this 
 time the American revolutionary war was at its height. My 
 father felt strongly on the Whig side of that question, and 
 he and my grandfather Hill agreed in reprobation of taxing 
 the colonies without their own consent. T understood, of 
 course, nothing about the matter, but I listened with intense 
 interest to these discussions, and picked up some notions of 
 national justice and injustice. 
 
 Tadcaster, by my great-aimt Maiy Hill. This basket-hilted sword was said 
 to have belonged to an officer of the Hill family, behind whom the Lady 
 Fairfax rode when she was taken prisoner on her way to Cawood Castle. 
 Hartley Coleridge, in his Life of Sir T. Fairfax, mentions this, in the words 
 of her husband, which he quotes, and it is there said that the name of this 
 officer was " Will. Hill." What, however, made this so interesting to me at 
 the time was this, that a certain Grace Hill, belonging to this family of Hills, 
 went to the field of battle after the field was won, to look for the body of her 
 brother, who could not be heard of, found him wounded but alive, brought 
 him home and he recovered, and that is unfortunately all that I could ever 
 learn of this, to me notable, heroine of my early days. The sword is still to 
 be seen.] 
 
14 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 I think it was in the year 1779 that my father took us 
 all to a review of the West York Militia, on Chapeltown 
 Moor, near Leeds. The regiment was at that time com- 
 manded by Sir George Savile, whose speeches I had often 
 heard my father read with peculiar emphasis and satisfac- 
 tion, considering him as the most patriotic and honest man 
 in the House of Commons. He happened to be personally 
 acquainted with Sir George, and meeting him accidentally 
 that day, he invited us all into his tent, and regaled us with 
 wine, fruit, etc. He took me on his knee, and his good 
 nature found amusement at my childish delight in all the 
 " pomp and circumstance " of the review. For many a day 
 after I enacted the glories of that day in the little garden 
 at Oxton, shouldering my musket, rushing on to the 
 charge, marching in quick and slow time. But the 
 greatest glory of all was having sat on the knee of Sir 
 George Savile. At that time Sir George's hair was thin 
 and grizzled, and stood off from his face, and it much 
 amused my father to find me often frizzling, or, as I said, 
 " Sir George Saviling " my hair in the weeks after I had 
 seen him. Sympathy with my father's high esteem for 
 that good man's public virtue laid perhaps the foundation of 
 my hero-worship. 
 
 [Another little tradition of our mother's child-days must, 
 as we think, have belonged to this time, though not given in 
 her written record. It was lodged in the faithful memory of 
 good aunt Dawson, who was fond of telling it to us. She 
 had taken her young charge, on medical advice, for a few 
 weeks to Harrogate, and during their abode there the little 
 girl's beauty had attracted much notice from a childless lady 
 of fortune who was an inmate with them of the same hotel, 
 and who sometimes begged to have her in the carriage to take 
 drives along with her. One of these included a visit to the 
 best furnished toy-shop of the place ; but this, as the lady 
 
TRADITIONS OF HER YOUTH. 15. 
 
 observed on bringing her back to aunt Dawson, had not proved 
 so successful in the way of amusing her little friend as she had 
 hoped. " She was bright and lively," she said, " as usual on 
 setting forth, but has been out of spirits on our way back, and 
 I have returned the sooner to you, thinking she may feel 
 unwell." It was not illness, however, only a sad disaj^point- 
 ment to the eager little spirit, as she soon told when the ill- 
 judging lady had left them. " Oh, aunt, if you had seen the 
 drums, and the trumpets, and the guns and swords in that shop 
 — and see (unwrapping a costly article from its paper covering), 
 see, she has given me nothing but this stupid doll." 
 
 To us, who knew the dear subject of these memorials as 
 none else could, and who also knew most of those with whom 
 her early days were passed, it has often been curiously inter- 
 esting to note how strongly were met in her the hereditary 
 instincts derived from both sides of her parentage. The quick, 
 almost fiery temper — the affectionate, forgiving heart — the 
 plain household integrity and sense of duty of the one, — her 
 father's side ; and the more intellectual cast, and (with nothing 
 less of "plain living") more "high thinking" tendencies of 
 the other, — her mother's side, which, as she has told, led her 
 aunts Hill to a sympathy with all purposes of public good, 
 and to deeds of their own in accordance. From neither 
 parental side, as we think, came, her hero-worship (in military 
 sense), which we saw as keenly alive in her eighty-fourth year, 
 during the Crimean war, aS^it could have been in her ninth. * 
 This, if indeed it be not a part of every impulsive nature, must 
 have been early engrafted on hers in her morj^ing readings 
 and talks with Mrs. Brudenell, herself a soldier's daughter, 
 who, as we can remember, in her talks of after-years with us, 
 delighted to show how fully she inherited, as well she might, 
 her father's chivalrous Northumbrian pride in his descent 
 (collaterally) from that hero of Chevy Chase memory, the 
 Widdrington, who, 
 
 " When his legs were smitten off, 
 Still fought upon his stumps." 
 
 One point of woman's taste which seerrlfed in her instinctive 
 hke the other, Mrs. Brudenell quite failed to impart to her 
 
16 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 pupil, the love of needlework. Plain work, indeed, was not 
 her forte ; the skill and practice in it which enabled aunt 
 Dawson on one renowned occasion (the only self-boast that, I 
 think, we ever heard her utter), to begin and finish a fine 
 shirt in one day, never was attained by the more aristocratic 
 family friend. Indeed, as aunt Dawson used to tell us, 
 Mrs. Brudenell always maintained that plain hemming or 
 stitching gave her a disabling pain in her thumb ; but in the 
 higher branches of the needle's doings she would gladly have 
 taught her pet pupil to excel. It was in vain, however, that 
 precepts were uttered by her on this matter, or that her goodly 
 examples of cross-stitch, or tent-stitch, reaching even to hearth- 
 rugs and carpets in these kinds, were set before our mother. 
 One small token only of her having attained even the art of 
 mai'king letters with the needle has been preserved amongst us 
 — a sampler ; and we infer that she had been induced so to 
 employ her fingers by being allowed a little expression of hero- 
 worship at the end of the toil, there being inscribed by her 
 needle on the canvas (after the usual alphabet in letters great 
 and small, and some not very happy imitation of flowers 
 in worsted) a favorite passage from Pope's Homer, ending 
 with the sounding couplet : 
 
 " Who dares think one thing and another tell. 
 My soul detests him as the gates of Hell." i 
 
 J From her ninth year, her age at the date of the " glorious " 
 day of the review and Sir George Savile's entertainment in 
 his tent, there is a break in the thread of our mother's written 
 reminiscences of her happy child-life till she takes it up again 
 to tell of what was in truth her first sorrow, the being sent to 
 school. The even tenor of those village days left her probably 
 
 1 The second couplet inserted in the no-w moth-eaten sampler which I 
 lately inspected is quite as prophetic of her future constancy in friend- 
 ship as the first is as to her moral standard of truth and falsehood. It is 
 this: — 
 
 " The friends thou hast and their adoption tried. 
 Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel." 
 
 Certainly no one ever did more fully follow out the good advice of Polonius 
 on this point than she did from youth to age. 
 
TRADITIONS OF HER YOUTH. 17 
 
 little to note down concerning the two intervening years, but 
 her vivid recollections of all this young time, so often the sub- 
 ject-matter of her talks with us, and good aunt Dawson's also, 
 whose village annals had a simple, truthful quaintness about 
 them very pleasant to hear and to remember, and our own 
 knowledge of the localities, enable us well to imagine, almost to 
 see, how those years went on, with " working day and holiday," 
 in wholesome interchange. Oxton was a hamlet rather than a 
 village, its cottage homesteads lying apart from one another for 
 about a quarter of a mile along the right and left sides of the 
 lane leading from Tadcaster (distant a mile on one side) to 
 Bolton Percy, about three miles farther on the other side. It 
 had no village green, but there were grass fields on all sides ; 
 those on the right (as you entered from Tadcaster) stretching 
 down from behind the cottages to the banks of the river Wharfe, 
 those on the left to the York turnpike-road, from whence a cart 
 rather than carriage-way led to the village at its entrance. 
 There was nothing, in tourist phrase, very "attractive " in the 
 surroundings of Oxton, or in the place itself. Our grandfather's 
 dwelling, the only one above those of the laborers' sort, was, 
 and is, confessedly ugly in outward aspect: a brick house, some- 
 what narrow for its height, with a square, low-walled and hedged 
 garden in front, opening by a little gate on the village lane. 
 An old porched house which once stood on the side nearly op- 
 posite, constructed of bi'ick interspersed with beams of black 
 oak and plaster, which might'have been a franklin's hall, was 
 in our time but a tradition of the past. And yet, though there 
 might be little that was picturesque at Oxton, hardly anything, 
 as modern ladies say, to " sketch " (save a fine old walnut tree 
 standing about midway on the side of the irregular village street 
 just before John Bovill's cottage), there was much to enjoy. 
 Each cottage, besides having the needful comforts within, had 
 the free air without, and nearly all had a little orchard as 
 well as garden ground behind. Th^ place always had a "heart- 
 some '' look, as we used to come upon it from under the shade 
 of some fine trees overshadowing the lane at its entrance on the 
 Tadcaster side; and there was a field just there that looked like 
 a fragment of park scenery. Some stately oaks grew in its 
 hedgerows, and a few noble elms within the enclosure at its lower 
 
18 A UTOBIO GJRAPHY. 
 
 end. But our mother's favorite fields were at the other end 
 of the village, beyond Mrs. Brudenell's cottage. They opened 
 on a pretty bit of bosky lane, in the direction of Bolton Percy, 
 All the fields round would probably have been open to her wan- 
 derings ; many had footpaths through them, but these, as her 
 father's possessiofi, were her own more especial domain for 
 violet-picking in March, and birdnest-seeking (to look into rever- 
 ently) later on in the spring, and for large cowslip-gathering 
 when wine-making time was at hand, and for that most clierished 
 of all her young holiday joys, the flower-collecting for her gar- 
 land to be hung over the house-door early on the first day of 
 May. Oxton did not boast of a May-pole. So far as we have 
 heard her. say, garland-making there was for household adorn- 
 ment only, in which on May-day no cottage home was to be found 
 lacking. Often has she recounted to us, and sometimes in 
 the same scene and season, when the primrose tufts and the 
 "nodding forests" of blue hyacinths were rife in the hedge- 
 rows of those fields, and the cowslip was scenting the air 
 everywhere, the true story of these May-day preparations ; 
 how, on the last day of April, she and her cousin from Wig- 
 hill Grange, or failing her, some young playfellow of the vil- 
 lage children, were set free from all tasks directly after break- 
 fast, and allowed to follow their own devices till well on in the 
 aftei'noon, no home dinner hour to be obsei'ved ; their midday 
 meal, a standing meat pie and some sweet articles, being 
 packed up for them in a covered basket by the unfailing pro- 
 vider aunt Dawson. Aunt D. did not fail to recommend that 
 the basket should not be opened till fair dinner-time, but this, 
 .like much other good advice, our mother used to admit was 
 .not always followed. It icas difficult to help peeping in, just 
 ;to see what aunt Dawson had put in besides the meat pie, 
 and then a little tasting followed, more than once perhaps, be- 
 fore the flower-gatherers sat down to their dinners in good 
 earnest. But the business of this happy day was not neglected. 
 All that was wanted for the garland was ready before tea-time 
 (not much after four o'clock in those days) brought them home 
 to sort and tie up the posies, and with Mrs. Brudenell's help 
 make all right for fastening them on to the large osier frame- 
 work (something of globe fashion) which was to display their 
 
TRADITIONS OF HER YOUTH. 19 
 
 beauties next morning. No wonder that we should like to 
 dwell even to tediousness (we are growing old ourselves) on 
 the " sunny memories " of our mother's child-days, for to the 
 last hour that she was permitted here to enjoy anything, the 
 thought of them never failed to light up her face with a 
 peculiar joyousness. Another cherished reminiscence of those 
 days was the dance and supper of the haymakers on the last 
 evening of their season's work. The Oxton festivity of this 
 kind was held in a field close to Mrs. Brudenell's cottage, and 
 she supplied the music, by drawing a barrel organ which stood 
 in her parlor close to the window that looked into that field, at 
 which she stood turning the handle with unwearied good humor 
 till the dancers were tired and ready for the good supper cheer 
 that followed. Much less was said and written then about the 
 amusements of the people than in our days, but it was a clear 
 part of our mother's remembrances that the laboring poor had 
 lighter spirits than we see in them now, not only that they had 
 more taste for the periodical play that lightens toil, Christmas 
 mumming (" ploughstott " processions, as they were called in 
 those parts), and the village " feasts " at Whitsuntide or Mid- 
 summer, but that they were more habitually cheerful in their 
 domestic ways. She often recalled with heart-pleasure the 
 sight and sound of John Bovill's young family when gathered 
 round the father and mother under that walnut tree aforesaid, 
 on summer evenings, all singing together "lustily and with a 
 good courage. " -'" 
 
 No wonder that school in exchange for such home and 
 village life looked a dolorous prospect, though its terror was 
 not increased to her by any child timidity or bashf ulness ; and 
 it could have been no cheerful prospect for those left behind 
 either, so much of each day's " mirth and matter," as she has 
 said, to be taken away from her father, grandmother, uncle 
 William, and her mother aunt Dawson also. But we, who 
 knew her unselfish ways and works, can well fancy how, when 
 the matter was once settled, her thoughts were bent on the 
 needful preparation for school apparel, and how well stored 
 was the " goody box " on the last day's packing. Mrs. Brude- 
 nell had her kindly cares and anxieties also ; but these related 
 chiefly to the effect her pupil was to produce in the eyes both 
 
20 A UTO BIO GRAPH Y. 
 
 of the teachers and the taught at the Manor School by her 
 young attainments. It was she, as our mother used to tell us, 
 ■who took her to school and made the awful presentation to the 
 presiding governess. 
 
 The Manor House at York was, and is still, a fine building 
 in the old city, and had its royal traditions, having been used 
 as a resting-place, and sometimes as a dwelling-place by kings 
 of England in the olden time, when occasions led them north 
 of the Humber. It is well and worthily used now as the 
 " Wilberforce School for the Blind," a fitting memorial chosen 
 (on Lord Brougham's suggestion) for the honored man who, 
 as one of the county members for Yorkshire, had so long 
 pleaded the great interests of humanity in his place in Parlia^ 
 ment. If sorrowful feeling had not quenched fancy, our 
 mother, even at eleven years old, would have hked the place, 
 at least of her banishment. A photographic picture of its 
 venerable doorway and a window over it, that of the room 
 in which she and an amiable schoolmate, a friend for life after- 
 wards, slept, is of interest to us to look upon now. Her own 
 record, however, gives but a comfortless picture of the time 
 passed there, and of school ways at the place in best repute for 
 the instruction of young ladies in her time in the North of 
 England.] 
 
 At eleven years old I was sent to the same boarding- 
 school at York, at which my mother and Mrs. Brudenell 
 had contracted their early friendship. It was a place in 
 which nothing useful could be learned, but it did me some 
 service, because I had something to unlearn. It taught me 
 that all my reading was not to be compared with the graces 
 that other girls had acquired at the dancing-school, and my 
 rusticity subjected me to many wholesome mortifications. 
 The dull restraints of a school life were extremely irksome 
 to me; everything was artificial, flat, and uninteresting. 
 One great reason of this, no doubt, was that whereas at 
 home I was everything, at school I was nothing — self-love 
 was in a perpetual state of subjection and humiliation. The 
 
MANOR SCHOOL LIFE. 21 
 
 four years I spent at that school were not without their use, 
 because if their experiences did not convince me that the 
 making a graceful curtsy was the chief end of human exist- 
 ence, and that an awkward gait was worse than a bad action, 
 they did convince me that, if the acquirements I valued 
 myself upon were not to be more admired by the world 
 than they were by my school companions, I had made a 
 very mistaken estimate indeed of the value of my own 
 knowledge and literary attainments. I formed, however, 
 some friendships at school which both at the time and after- 
 wards permanently contributed much to my happiness. Of 
 these were Miss Forster and her sisters, Miss Ann Cleaver, 
 afterwards Mrs. Chapman, and Miss Beckwith, afterwards 
 Mrs. Craik. But reflecting on my experience of a boarding- 
 school as then conducted, I cannot but wonder how any one 
 could escape the peril of such association as might have 
 been met with there. The Manor School was in the hands 
 of a very well-disposed, conscientious old gentlewoman, but 
 of so limited an understanding that, under her rule, mischief 
 of every kind (short of actual vice) was going on without 
 her even suspecting it. Lessons were said by rote, without 
 being understood ; servants were bribed to bring in dainties 
 clandestinely; in short, every kind of dissimulation was 
 practised to indemnify the subjects of this petty despotism 
 for the restraints unnecessarily imposed upon them. During 
 the four years I was at this school, two chapters of the Bible 
 were read every morning by two of the young ladies as 
 a reading lesson. Prayers were regularly drawled out by 
 the husband of our governess, a choleric old man, who 
 thumped our fingers so often for bad writing, with his 
 mahogany ferule, that we listened to his prayers with' any 
 feelings but those of love or devotion. I do not remember 
 to have received a single religious impression at this school, 
 though creeds were repeated, and catechisms taught, and 
 
22 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 
 
 all the formalities of religious service regularly performed. 
 Four volumes of the Spectator constituted our whole school 
 library. But besides the negative evils of such school life, 
 was the misfortune of having as daily associates some girls 
 of thoroughly depraved character. Two of these, the most 
 remarkable for dissimulation and all evil characteristics, who 
 afterwards married, eloped from their husbands. 
 
 [" Such," our mother adds, " were the dangers to which the 
 inmates of a boarding-school were then exposed." In thinking 
 of her, well may we add — such were the healthy instincts that 
 saved her from danger, and led her in that young school-world 
 to " refuse the evil and choose the good." Her own intimate 
 schoolmates, all of whom were well known to us in after-days, 
 — pleasant it is now to remember how much we inherited of 
 their kindly friendship, — were no less marked than herself by 
 purity of thought, word, and deed. It was one trial of those 
 weary years, a minor one certainly, and only matter for merry 
 recollection with her friends afterwards, but sorely felt at the 
 time, — that in the daily school walks she was coupled with a 
 girl of uncommon stupidity, whose ideas ran on tarts and pud- 
 dings only. She supposed that the lady at the head of the 
 school had a special dislike to her, and that this infliction was ' 
 a proof of it. A burst of tenderness from the old lady on her 
 leaving school, however, brought forth an eclaircissement on 
 this point. Tears were shed on both sides. " Why," said the 
 
 pupil, " did you always make me walk with Miss ? " 
 
 " My dear, I thought you might do her good, and she could do 
 you no harm." And so it might be. We do not know what 
 brightenings might come in after-life to that dull girl. 
 
 As to the limitation of the school library, and the authorized 
 reading, the Manor School girls of course indemnified them- 
 selves in the usual manner of sufferers from undue prohibition. 
 Our mother's school friends in after-days had happy remem- 
 brances, along with her, of the httle reading parties gathered 
 together round a fire, over some smuggled article of dramatic, 
 and commonly of tragic sort — in one case indeed made doubly 
 tragic, when, in the midst of a scene in the pathetic play of Sir 
 
MANOR SCHOOL LIFE. 23 
 
 Thomas Overbury, one of the listeners, Hfting her arm in high 
 excitement, dashed the little paper tome out of the reader's (our 
 mother's) hand, and it flew into the fire, from whence hardly a 
 fragment could be recovered. The " stolen pleasures " of such 
 reading, in spite of occasional mishaps, were doubtless " sweet," 
 and school dulness was sometimes, as she relates, otherwise 
 diversified.] 
 
 My father had many friends at York who were kind to 
 me. It was at Mr. Forster's house [the father of her school 
 friends of that name] that I was most at home. The family 
 were old friends of Mrs. Brudenell. They had moved from 
 their country seat, Bolton, in Northumberland, to live for 
 some years at York for the education of their daughters. 
 By Mrs. Forster I was always treated as one of her own 
 children; but I never reflect with pleasure on my school- 
 day life. I had more of the homesickness than most of 
 my companions. From our play -ground on the " Manor 
 shore" I could see Biibrough Spring, a tall clump of trees 
 within three miles of my father's house. That clump of 
 trees interested me more than any game at play, and it was 
 only when I mounted my pony to trot homewards that I 
 knew what real happiness was at that period. I left school 
 finally at the midsummef^of 1785. So fond was I of my 
 newly acquired freedom and command of time, that so long 
 as the early mornings were light I rose at four o'clock, and 
 with some favorite book, generally of poetry, I sauntered in 
 the lanes or fields till our eight o'clock breakfast-time. 
 
 [These were days of chosen remembrance with our mother. 
 We can all recollect how, in our walks round Oxton together, 
 she used to linger at one particular stile leading from the lane 
 into a field footpath, and tell us of her sittings there on those 
 early summer mornings. Like most ardent young readers of 
 poetry, she wrote not a little verse in those days, the said stile 
 being her seat, with pencil and note-book, for that pleasant 
 rhyming work which Southey says " no one ever practised 
 
24 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 
 
 without being the better for it." We can well believe that she 
 zoas the better for such expression of her young summer joy ; 
 from any vanity that might have made her the worse, she was 
 saved by a high and true sense of poetic beauty, an imagina- 
 tion already fed by the mind and the music of Shakespeare 
 (her father's recitation of nearly the whole play of " Romeo 
 and Juliet " was among her earliest recollections), and an ear 
 trained by the graceful flow of Pope.] 
 
 About this time (in the same year of happy freedom), a 
 friend of my father placed at my disposal £20 to make some 
 addition to my slender stock of books. Well do I remem- 
 ber with what exultation of delight I entered Old Tessy- 
 man's, the bookseller's shop at York, to make my purchases. 
 Warton's edition of Milton's lesser Poems, Cowper's first 
 edition of his Poems, Hayley's Works, and Brydone's Tour, 
 were amongst the number. There lived at that time in 
 the neighboring village of Bolton Percy a family of the 
 name of Ewbank. Mr. Ewbank, a man of good private 
 fortune, was Curate of the parish, and lived at the Rectory. 
 His wife was a truly devout and exemplary woman, of cul- 
 tivated mind and great refinement of manners. Mrs. Bru- 
 denell and I often visited this family. They formed my 
 beau-ideal of domestic happiness, and they presented relig- 
 ion to me in its most engaging form, " carrying it (as 
 Dr. Chalmers would have said) into their week-day as 
 well as their Sabbath ministrations." 
 
 The very summer I left school an incident occurred 
 which aftbrded interest to a romantic imagination. Mine 
 had been little cultivated by novel-reading, but that se- 
 ductive amusement had not been wholly resisted, and I 
 had a great admiration for the military heroic. The 
 addresses paid me by an officer whom I met at Thorp Arch ^ 
 
 1 A watering-place on tlie banks of the Wharfe, about five miles from 
 Oxton. 
 
HOME LIFE AND INTERESTS. 25 
 
 while on a visit there, was the first episode of the kind in 
 my simple annals. My notions of filial duty were of the 
 strictest kind. I was wretched till I imparted my secret 
 to my father, and more wretched still when he desired me 
 at once to put a negative on the hopes of my adoring 
 lover. Not that I was in love myself, but I never doubtfed 
 that the gallant captain would, as he said, forthwith die of 
 grief and distraction if I did not give a favorable answer 
 to his suit. I am amused now by the simple credulity of 
 a village girl of fifteen fifty years ago. There is not now 
 a girl of that age, of capacity above an idiot's, who would 
 not quiz the notion of a man's dying of love. A succession 
 of admirers furnished me for the next two or three years 
 with serious occupation, for I had nothing of the coquette 
 in my disposition, though a good deal of the heroine of 
 romance. I never could make light of the sorrows of the 
 heart. My suitors were dismissed without the self-love of 
 any being hurt by scorn or impertinence. One youth I 
 could have loved ; the eldest brother of my school-friend, 
 Miss Ann Cleaver. I met him in the year 1787, when I was 
 on a visit at his father's house. His appearance was pre- 
 possessing, his mind manly and ingenuous, and his manners 
 pleasing. He had finished his Cambridge education, and 
 was entered a student of law at the Inner Temple. I 
 allowed him to ask my father's permission to pay his 
 addresses to me. The displeasure he felt at my father's 
 unfavorable reception of his proposals proved that he had 
 more pride than tenderness of heart, and this enabled me to 
 conquer my attachment and to acquiesce without a murmur in 
 my father's better judgment. 
 
 [In the same page that tells of her young " passages of love," 
 our mother tells also of her deep sympathy with its fictitious 
 woes in her first reading of " The Sorrows of Werther."] 
 
 This touching book fell into my hands (while staying 
 2 
 
26 A UTOBIO GEAPHY. 
 
 witli the Forster family at York) on the morning of the 
 day on which I was going to my first ball. I had antici- 
 pated as much delight as girls commonly do from this event, 
 but my swollen eyes, red with weeping, and my grief for 
 TVerther and Charlotte, obliged me to give up the ball. 
 I never cared enough for dress to make much impression 
 in a ball-room, neither did I at all excel in dancing. My 
 pleasure was in the conversation of an agreeable partner. 
 I never was gratified by complimentary admiration of my 
 personal attractions ; vanity lay in another corner of my 
 heart. I ambitiously desired to be distinguished for mental 
 superiority, and had no objection to a little sentimental flir- 
 tation, though I do not remember ever wishing to inspire a 
 passion for the sake of conquest. 
 
 At the balls given during the Lent Assizes at York, my 
 uncle Hill 'used to take a great charge of my dancing with 
 proper partners, and generally introduced to me some of 
 his younger brethren at the Bar, whom I found better 
 educated and more conversable than the young men I was 
 in the habit of meeting at the Yoi"k evening parties. It 
 was at one of these parties, however, at Mr. Forster's, that 
 I had the long-wished-for gratification of seeing the poet 
 Mason. He was then Precentor of the Cathedral. Many 
 a time had I walked before his door in the Minster Yard, 
 to get a peep of the author of Elfrida and Caractacus. 
 But to be in the same room with him, to watch his counte- 
 nance, and hear him speak, the anticipation was delightful ! 
 I figured him an interesting-looking man worn with deep 
 affliction, for I had read his beautiful " Monody " on his wife, 
 who died at Bristol of consumption. But when he entered 
 Mrs. Forster's di-awing-room, what was my surprise to see 
 a little fat old man of hard-favored countenance squat him- 
 self down at a card-table, and give his whole attention to a 
 game at whist ! 
 
HAPPY HIGHLAND TOUR. 27 
 
 [It was in the year previous to this, before her taste of the 
 gaieties and incidents of the "York Lent Assizes," that our 
 mother made her first acquaintance with the land north of the 
 Tweed, and with the English highlands of our Lake district, 
 those places of her habitation in most of her after-years of 
 life.] 
 
 In the summer of 1786 my kind father indulged me 
 with an excursion to the Highlands of Scotland. I had 
 my choice either to go for six weeks to London or to 
 Scotland ; I chose the latter. I was much attached to 
 Miss Stewart, a young lady who had married the year before 
 (from the Manor School) Mr. Meliss, a gentleman of Perth, 
 her native place. This and some romantic associations with 
 Scottish scenery decided my choice. My uncle William 
 Dawson, my cousin John, and I, set out on this excursion 
 on the 23d of July, and after a visit of three weeks to my 
 friend Mrs. Meliss at Rosemount, a pretty villa near Perth, 
 where I witnessed much domestic happiness and received 
 much kindly hospitality, we proceeded through Perthshire 
 and Argyllshire by the ordinary tourist route, and, return- 
 ing by the Westmoreland and Cumberland lakes, we com- 
 pleted our expedition by the 5th of October, on which day 
 we returned to Oxton. 
 
 My taste for and enjoyment in picturesque scenery 
 were much increased by this journey. From Bamborough 
 Castle, on the coast of Northumberland, I first saw the sea. 
 It was on a tempestuous day, and the foaming surge and 
 roaring billows of the German Ocean astonished and 
 affected me. I have never looked on the sea since with- 
 out a recurrence of the same emotion of dread, which 
 philosophers consider the source of the sublime. It would 
 be impossible for me ever to feel familiar with the sea ; I 
 have no feeling of happiness connected with it. I was 
 greatly struck with the noble situation of Edinburgh, and 
 
28 A UTO BIO GRAPH Y. 
 
 interested in the historical associations of the place, but 
 we did not then know any one there. The frankness and 
 urbanity of Scottish manners were very agreeable to me. 
 I was not discriminating enough to be a good judge of 
 character, or refined enough to be fastidious. I had no 
 very high standard of manners, but I returned gratefully 
 impressed with much personal kindness. I had an unaf- 
 fected wish to please. This feeling was, I think, com- 
 pounded of benevolence and a great desire of approbation. 
 I never could flatter or say what I did not think ; but I 
 was disposed to think well of others. I had no turn for 
 ridicule, no very quick perception perhaps of the ludicrous, 
 no jiride, I think, or assumption above others ; but I had 
 plenty of vanity, and great — much too great — desire for 
 the estimation of others. If it had been the estimation of 
 the good and the wise only, it would have been a desire 
 that all rational beings ought to have ; but I was more 
 voracious, and less discriminating in my love of approba- 
 tion. 
 
 This delightful Highland tour filled my mind with many 
 new thoughts, both respecting scenery, national character 
 and manners, and various subjects, which a wider field of 
 observation afforded. I was then sixteen ; and for my 
 father's amusement I kept a journal of each day's adven- 
 tures. This was afterwards transcribed in a book, which 
 held a favored place in my father's book-case, and yet 
 now-a-days a very ordinary girl of sixteen would be 
 ashamed to write so bald, so affected, and so absurd a 
 narrative of 9. six weeks' tour in S,cotland; I could sit 
 down and laugh at it from beginning to end, there is so 
 much attempt at fine writing in it, — a thing never thought 
 of now, I presume, by a girl of sixteen. It abounds in 
 the bad taste of the time ; it is a sort of " sentimental 
 journey." My fondly indulgent father, however, and all 
 
RESISTANCE TO OPPRESSION. 
 
 29 
 
 my little family circle, were delighted with it, and thus my 
 love of approbation " grew by what it fed on." 
 
 [This judgment, often pronounced by our mother's later- 
 formed self-knowledge on her early self, was doubtless true ; 
 but quite as true was it that an earnest benevolence, that best 
 natural antidote to the poison of selfish vanity, was as much a 
 part of her nature as the love of approbation. She knew that 
 her love of doing good was far stronger than her desire to be 
 thanked or praised for it. This love grew with her growth, 
 from an impulsive sentiment into a working habit, a principle 
 of her life. The next two notices in her own words, relating 
 to incidents of this or the following year, are very charac- 
 teristic] 
 
 It was about this time that I read somewhere of a dis- 
 pute between Mrs. Hannah More and Ann Yearsley, the 
 Bristol milkwoman. The poor woman's "narrative" 
 struck me as having a strong claim on the reader's 
 sympathy. It appeared that after Mrs. Hannah More had 
 introduced her to the public, by a very high and eloquent 
 eulogium on her genius and her virtue (in a letter addressed 
 to the celebrated Mrs. IMontague), she quarrelled with 
 Mrs. Yearsley for her requesting to have the uncontrolled 
 disposal of the interest ohiy of the money which, chiefly 
 through Mrs. Hannah More's influence, had been raised by 
 subscription for her poems. Mrs. Yearsley had readily 
 agreed that the principal sum, about £350, should be 
 vested in the funds for the benefit of her family, under the 
 trusteeship of Mrs. Hannah More and Mrs. Montague. 
 Mrs. Yearsley's "narrative" made a great impression on 
 me. I thought it showed a case of direct attempt by the 
 strong to oppress the weak. My father and all our little 
 household sympathized in this feeling, and, authorized by 
 my father, I wrote to Mrs. Yearsley, offering to collect 
 subscriptions for her new volume of poems advertised for 
 
30 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 
 
 publication. Mrs. Yearsley, who had been highly irritated 
 by what she conceived to be Mrs. Hannah More's in- 
 justice, received the offered assistance of a stranger with 
 exaggerated, but I believe sincere expressions of joy and 
 gratitude. I enlisted with all the zeal of partisanship, 
 as well as the feelings of justice and benevolence, in her 
 behalf, and seldom had I felt more delighted than when 
 my father put a £50 bank-note into my hands to give 
 immediate help to the Bristol milkwoman in bringing out 
 her poems. This sum was nearly replaced by the five 
 hundred subscribers I obtained for her. She afterwards 
 addressed some complimentary verses to me in that volume, 
 and not being then much given to the practice of self- 
 examination, I dare say I was not aware how much of 
 vanity and self-love mixed with better feelings in my 
 patronage of Mrs. Yearsley. The correspondence with this 
 remarkable woman afforded me much interest for several 
 years, and I carefully preserved her letters. When, in the 
 spring of 1834, I visited Bristol and Clifton for the first 
 time, I tried in vain to trace any vestige of her or her 
 family. 
 
 It was in his generous indulgence, and sympathy in 
 such impulses as these, that I felt my father's kindness 
 so deeply. It was about the same time that he encouraged 
 me in my strenuous exertions to save a poor friendless 
 girl from vice and misery. When on a visit to my friend 
 Miss Beckwith at Ripon, as we were on our way together 
 to attend as visitors at a Sunday School, we observed, 
 through a grated window of the lock-up house, the face of 
 a modest-looking girl not above seventeen years of age. 
 She looked very sorrowful. In answer to our inquiries, 
 she said that, on her way from Sunderland to join her 
 mother in London, she fell into company with two other 
 poor travellers, a man and his wife, and accompanied them 
 
ELIZABETH ANTHONY AND SARAH WATSON. 31 
 
 to a beggar's lodging-house in Ripon, where they committed 
 a theft, and she, being with them, was committed to take 
 her trial along with them at the Quarter-Sessions. There 
 was so much apparent artlessness in her story that my 
 friend and I interested ourselves deeply in her fate. Her 
 name was Elizabeth Anthony. She was acquitted of 
 participation in the theft, and her companions were sent 
 for six weeks to the House of Correction. A respectable 
 service was obtained for her by Mr. Beckwith in a farmer's 
 family near Ripon, and my friend and I had the satisfaction 
 to think that we had saved the poor girl frona ruin. "What 
 was our disappointment to find, six weeks afterwards, 
 that she had absconded from the farmer's service, and had 
 taken the road to York with her former companions when 
 liberated from prison ! My friend Ann Cleaver was stay- 
 ing with me when I received this grievous intelligence. 
 At once we mounted on horseback, and full of Quixotic 
 enthusiasm we rode full canter to York, where we pre- 
 vailed on a good man to search all the mendicant lodging- 
 houses for our fugitive. He found her, and brought her 
 to our inn. Again she imposed on us by saying that her 
 quondam friends had frightened her into leaving her good 
 master's service by telling-^her that they would set fire to 
 his . barn if she refused to accompany them. We credu- 
 lously believed her, and again found, in the house of 
 Mr. Potter of Tadcaster, a respectable service, and a kind 
 roof to shelter her. But " a-begging she would go," and 
 although most kindly treated in Mr. Potter's family, she 
 again absconded, without however committing any theft or 
 breach of trust in either of the families who had given her 
 shelter. 
 
 [One of our mother's favorite heroines in humble life belong- 
 ing to this period was a person of the name of Sarah Watson, 
 who lived in the village of Grimstone, near Tadcaster, where I 
 
3 2 A UTOBIO GRAPH Y. 
 
 often saw her as an old woman. I well remember the respect- 
 ful and affectionate manner my mother had towards her, when 
 she took us to her cottage on a fine summer evening during 
 one of our visits to Tadcaster, when we were children. On 
 our walk home across the fields, she told us that Sarah had, in 
 her youth, when they first knew each other, been a single 
 servant in a clergyman's family of small means ; that the 
 master of the house was killed by an accident, and left his wife 
 in great poverty and some debt. Sarah, who had married a 
 laborer, took a cottage and fitted up her best room with all 
 the comforts she could collect from her mistress's old home, and 
 which she would much have missed, moved her into it, and 
 waited upon her for years, as she had been accustomed to do, 
 but without any remuneration ; showing her more respect than 
 ever, and bearing all the irritability of illness and age with the 
 utmost gentleness and forbearance. Sarah had one child, which 
 died young; and in the cottage on that fine summer evening, 
 I remember there was a little chair with a large Bible on it. 
 I have still a distinct impression of that cottage, its beautifu-1 
 cleanhness and comfort, the roses about the open lattice, the 
 little chair and the Bible on it, the grave refined look of the 
 venerable Sarah, — and then the history of her beautiful self- 
 devotion, related to us as we walked home, in the glowing words 
 we loved best to hear. All this made an impression on us that 
 no written annals could have done. It was a remembrance of 
 her own youth that she conveyed to us, as the history of Ruth 
 might have been related in the walks at eventide of a Hebrew 
 mother ; and such histories of goodness and mercy sink deep 
 into the hearts of children. We afterwards heard in our visits 
 to Sarah (which continued to be one of the pleasures of our 
 Tadcaster life so long as she lived) that our mother had thrown 
 her loving energies into this village history at the time it 
 occurred, and had assisted Sarah to collect the articles of 
 furniture which were essential to the comfort of her old 
 mistress. It was evident to those who saw them together 
 that there was a link of old remembrance and regard between 
 them which broke down all the barriers of condition and made 
 them feel as friends living in the presence of a loving Father. 
 "Where our mother recognized the presence of God's spiiit in 
 
FIEST MEETING WITH MR. FLETCHER. 33 
 
 others, the humility of her own nature appeared in a remark- 
 able degree and gave a deferential grace to her manner quite 
 apart from the ordinary courtesy of society. One of the say- 
 ings of her old friend, Mr. Clowes, early entered her soul, and 
 expressed what she felt to be a great happiness to herself to 
 exercise and cultivate in others : "To delight in good is the 
 temper and disposition of angels."] 
 
 My good old grandmother died in the winter of 1787, an 
 event all her grown-up sons, and her only daughter, felt 
 deeply at the. time, and none of the family more than my- 
 self ; for, with many infirmities of temper, she had a noble 
 generosity of heart, and had always treated me with most 
 affectionate indulgence. It was a little later in the same 
 year that a circumstance occurred upon which perhaps 
 hinged the futui-e condition and happiness of my life. 
 
 In the spring of 1787 Mrs. Meliss wrote to tell me that 
 her husband, who had become a zealous burgh reformer, 
 was going as a delegate from Perth to attend before a 
 Committee on Burgh Reform in the House of Commons, 
 along with a distinguished Scottish patriot, Mr. Archibald 
 Fletcher, of Edinburgh, who had written "The Principles 
 of the Bill for Scottish Bur^lx Reform," now to be brought 
 into the House of Commons, and that, if I chose, she would 
 accompany the travellers as far as Oxton. Nothing could 
 exceed my satisfaction on receiving this intelligence. I 
 had very dim and imperfect notions concerning politics, 
 but during the American war I had caught many liberal 
 opinions from my father, and my grandfather, and uncle 
 Hill, all of whom detested the arbitrary and unjust prin- 
 ciples of that war, by which England lost her colonies 
 in North America ; and from the admiration General 
 Washington's conduct excited, and the estimation in which 
 Sir George Savile's character was held, I had conceived the 
 loftiest opinion of a disinterested lover of his country, and 
 2* c. 
 
34 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 my curiosity was strongly awakened to see the reformer in 
 whose praise my friend Mrs. Meliss wrote in such glowing 
 terms. The party from Scotland arrived some time in 
 April, 1787. Mr. Fletcher was then about forty-three, of 
 a grave, gentleman -like, prepossessing appearance. There 
 was an expression of intelligence and benevolence in his 
 countenance, with great mildness and gentleness of man- 
 ners. I was flattered by the pleasure he seemed to take in 
 conversing with me. I remember that the conversation 
 turned much on Ossian's Poems. He was a great admirer 
 of the works ascribed to the Celtic bard, and, to a certain 
 extent, a believer in their authenticity, having heard several 
 of them (or poems of the same description) recited in his 
 youth, before Macpherson translated and gave them to 
 the world in their present form. Mrs. Brudenell gave a 
 little musical party at her cottage to our Scottish friends. 
 She always contrived to give these simple entertainments 
 a tasteful and elegant appearance. At the end of three 
 days the reformers left us to pursue their route to London. 
 I don't remember any impression of what is called love at 
 first sight from this interview with Mr. Fletcher, but it 
 would appear that I had made some impression of this 
 sort on his mind. Mr. Meliss wrote to his wife that his 
 companion could think and talk of nothing but Miss Daw- 
 son. Mr. Meliss returned some time sooner than his friend, 
 and brought me a handsome copy of Ossian's Poems from 
 Mr. Fletcher, with a letter containing some critical re- 
 marks upon them, and a request that I would honor him 
 with a letter to say how I liked the work. My vanity 
 was flattered by the respect paid to my opinion ; some 
 letters passed between us, and though the correspondence 
 was confined to literary subjects, I found it extremely in- 
 teresting. Some time afterwards I remember to have felt 
 somewhat piqued and mortified to find that Mr. Fletcher 
 
FIRST IMPRESSIONS DEEPENED. 35 
 
 had passed through Tadcaster, on his way northwards, 
 without so much as calling at Oxton. On explaining how 
 this happened, it appeared that he had, with two com- 
 panions, arrived at Tadcaster at twelve o'clock at night, 
 had taken a chaise to Oxton, and had walked round and 
 round my father's house, in the dead of night, without 
 daring to disturb the family, and had then returned to the 
 inn at Tadcaster to be ready to set out with his compan- 
 ions early next morning for Scotland. I was not displeased 
 with the romance of this incident, but I thought if he had 
 cared much about seeing me he -would have contrived to 
 accomplish it. This was not the disappointment of one who 
 loved, but of one who fancied that she was more beloved 
 than she now appeared to be. There was some interrup- 
 tion to our correspondence: it languished on my side. 
 
 In the spring of 1788 Mr. Fletcher again paid us a short 
 visit at Oxton. He was accompanied by the Hon. John 
 Douglas, afterwards Earl of Selkirk, who was also a burgh 
 reformer, and they were on their way to attend the Parlia- 
 mentary Committee on that subject in London. On his 
 return from town in June we had removed from Oxton to 
 a house in Tadcaster ; and I do remember that when I 
 received his note from the^ inn, saying that he would do 
 himself the honor to call and spend the evening with us, 
 I did resort to the toilette to curl my hair with rather more 
 care than usual. I was more struck even than before with 
 the good sense and good taste of his conversation, and much 
 interested in his animated account of the splendid speeches 
 he had heard at Westminster Hall, at the trial of Warren 
 Hastings. My own mind had perhaps made some advance 
 in knowledge and reflection, and I enjoyed this visit more 
 than I had done before. The correspondence, which had 
 grown languid on my part, was resumed with more spirit, 
 but was still confined to literary and general subjects. 
 
36 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 
 
 In the summer of the same year, while visiting Doncaster 
 in the company of two Scotch acquaintances, a Mr. and 
 Mrs. Anderson, who went to place their only daughter at 
 a boarding-school at that place, I accidentally became 
 acquainted with the Eev. Edmund Cartwright,^ who had 
 lately published " A Legendary Tale, Armine and Elvira," 
 along with some other poems of considerable merit. Mrs. 
 Anderson was a great proficient in music. We- had accom- 
 panied some ladies at Doncaster, whose names I now forget, 
 to see the old church there, and Mrs. Anderson was allowed 
 to play some sacred music on the organ. While she was so 
 employed I was struck with a simple and elegant inscrip- 
 tion to the memory of Mrs. Cartwright, the wife of the 
 Rev. Edmund Cartwright. I asked if that was the poet. 
 I had no sooner asked the question than I was introduced 
 to that gentleman, who, attracted by the music, had strolled 
 into the church. He was a grave-looking man, considerably 
 turned of forty, of very gentle and engaging manners. He 
 was acquainted with the family with whom we had spent 
 the day, and he accompanied us to their house to pass 
 the evening, and next day he took us to see some power- 
 looms of his invention, — set to work, not by steam or water, 
 but by a large wheel turned by an ox. We dined that 
 day with Mr. Cartwright, and were all much pleased with 
 the good taste, animation, and variety of his conversational 
 talents. We proceeded next day to Matlock, promising him 
 another visit on our return from that place. At Matlock 
 and Buxton I had some opportunity of mixing in more 
 miscellaneous society than I had been accustomed to. I 
 was not insensible to the admiration I met with, buc it was 
 not of a kind to gratify or interest me ; and much as I 
 admired the natural beauty of the scenery about Matlock, 
 and marvelled at the wonders of the great cavern in the 
 1 Mr. Cartwright was also the inventor of the power-loom. 
 
EEV. E. CARTWRIGHT'S FRIENDSHIP. 37 
 
 Peak of Derbyshire, I wearied of the heartless frivolity of 
 watering-place society, and longed to return to my affec- 
 tionate and happy home. Mrs. Brudenell had by this time 
 become an inmate of my father's family, and though subject 
 to irritability of temper from bad health and a life of dis- 
 appointment, she was always affectionate and sympathizing, 
 or lively and amusing. The very limited society of a small 
 country town did not compensate to us for that quietness 
 and repose we had enjoyed at Oxton, but we were so united 
 and attached a family that no place was so dear to me as 
 home. 
 
 My second visit to Mr. Cartwright confirmed our 
 mutual prepossessions. He soon distinguished me with 
 his friendship; and, in the autumn of that year, I think, 
 he brought his gifted friend the Rev. George Crabbe, and 
 his amiable wife, to pay me a visit. I accompanied them 
 all three to York Minster, and at the distance of half a 
 century I have still a vivid recollection of the gratification 
 I then enjoyed in the society of such elegant and culti- 
 vated minds. Mr. Crabbe made me a present of his 
 "Village Library," and "Newspaper," two poems which 
 had been printed in quarts separately by Dodsley, in St. 
 Paul's Churchyard, the former in 1783, the latter in 1785. 
 I continued to correspond with Mr. Crabbe for several 
 years, and had the honor of being godmother to his 
 second son, now the Eev John Crabbe. Mr. Cartwright 
 placed his two eldest daughters, Mary and Eliza, at the 
 Manor School of York, and they sometimes spent part of 
 their holidays with me at Tadcaster. His correspondence 
 was considered by me as a great privilege. He honored 
 me with his confidence and friendship so far as to wish 
 me to become the mother of his five amiable children by 
 uniting my fate to his. I had not confidence in my own 
 worthiness for such a trust, but in refusing it, I neither 
 
38 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 forfeited his good opinion nor his friendship. In the 
 winter of 1788 he introduced me to his excellent friend 
 Mr. Woodison, the learned and amiable Professor of Law 
 at Oxford (the successor of Sir William Blackstone), with 
 whom Mr. Cartwright had been a fellow-student at Mag- 
 dalen College. Mr. Woodison was a man of singular 
 modesty and refinement of manners ; so diffident of his 
 own merits that he inspired diffidence in others, not of his, 
 but of their own pretensions. This sensibility of tempera- 
 ment was to him, I believe, a source of much disquietude, 
 in the active and busy life of a professional lawyer in 
 London. He was, in truth, better fitted to be a Lecturer 
 in a University than a Wrangler in Westminster Hall. I 
 was occasionally honored with his correspondence from 
 our first acquaintance till the time of his death, which 
 happened, I think, in 1806 or 1807. 
 
 [Her intercourse with Mr. Cartwright and the chosen friends 
 to whom he introduced her never was recurred to in after-fife 
 by our mother without warm interest, grateful interest, such 
 as we can well believe was called forth in her young days by 
 the opening thus given her for observing new aspects of life, 
 and for an interchange of thought much above that which an 
 ordinary country town affords. And with her, at this as at 
 all times, such variety from the usual current of home fife 
 might be as safely as it was heartily enjoyed. No home 
 languor or unneighborly fastidiousness followed from that 
 contact with "metal more attractive" which she might 
 occasionally find elsewhere. We can all testify from our 
 earliest childhood how habitually she practised the sentiment 
 of a favorite quotation — "The joy of seeing is to tell." We 
 are very sure that it was so then, and that the home she 
 loved so dearly was always the brighter on her return by 
 what she gained when away from it. Meantime she found or 
 fastened life friendships in the place of her habitation. The 
 nearness at this time to her grandfather and aunts Hill, whose 
 hoiise, "The Grange," stood in a pleasant field on the left 
 
RECOLLECTIONS OF JOHN WESLEY. 39 
 
 bank of the Wharfe, edging close to the town of Tadcaster, 
 Tbrought her more into daily intercourse with them than 
 formerly, and with the youngest of the three sisters especially, 
 whose influence henceforth became a telling one. The stately 
 maiden aunt, who for lack of indulgent tenderness had no 
 attraction for her love as a child, had much in her to draw 
 out admiring regard when advanced tastes were to be met and 
 ministered to. She read more than was common with ladies 
 of her date; and though her reading was desultory enough, 
 ranging without any plan from "Baker's Chronicles" ("the 
 nearest " approach to a story-book, she used to tell us, that 
 came within the children's reach in their father's house in her 
 child days) up to the " Emile " and the " Nouvelle Heloise " 
 of Rousseau, and down (if we may so speak) to Mrs. Trimmer's 
 "Economy of Charity," — the three latter books were almost 
 equally her favorites at the time now mentioned, — an in- 
 stinctive taste for the noble and the practical at once, had 
 always led her to make her mind's food and possession out of 
 the best quality to be found in her somewhat curious variety 
 of book-companionship. But even more than her love of 
 books did her habitual practice of wise benevolence to the 
 poor meet the growing earnestness of our mother's growing 
 character, helping much at this time to strengthen in her a 
 value for the " good of uses,*' according to a phrase of old 
 Cotton Mather, which auijt— Mary Hill often quoted, and to 
 deepen her sense of this large part of life's highest purpose. 
 
 We have often wished that our mother could have told us 
 more from her own local observation of that great awakening 
 of religious life in England in which the founders of Methodism 
 bore so large a part. As an era in our country's history, no 
 one regarded it with higher interest in after-life than she, and 
 not a few members of the Methodist community were at all 
 times objects of her loving honor ; but the phase of faith in 
 her own home could not well assimilate with Methodism. 
 Her father's joyous temperament repudiated the gloom he 
 often saw associated with early convictions in followers of the 
 new sect. His old English churchmanship made him im- 
 patient of long extempore prayers and sermons outstepping all 
 accustomed limits, and the wild extravagance often attendant 
 
40 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 on the new services either disturbed his love of order or 
 furnished matter for his ready mirth. Mrs. Brudenell, from 
 somewhat like taste and temper of mind, agreed with him 
 fully, and aunt Dawson was at all times more given to doing 
 for than differing from those about her. All three were alike 
 incapable of bitterness in their hostility ; but, on the whole, 
 the household tone was more that of mistrust than of charity 
 as to the genuineness or worth of Methodist pretensions. Our 
 mother had a very early but quite distinct recollection of 
 having gone once from Oxton with her grandmother to hear 
 John Wesley preach in the parish church of Tadcaster, then 
 (in consequence of the favorable dispositions of the Vicar) not 
 closed against him. The venerable beauty of his look never 
 was forgotten by any one who saw him ; the subject of his 
 sermon — the alarming advance of luxury in England — was 
 doubtless fixed in her memory by one illustration, which she 
 used to report to us, given on the preacher's own experience, 
 viz. , ' ' that in his young days his mother used to make one 
 apple serve for the family dumpling, whereas he found that 
 many apples were used for that purpose to satisfy the tastes 
 of the children of the time in which he then addressed them." 
 Wesley died in 1791, at a vei'y advanced age ; and at the 
 time now spoken of, many of his early helpers must have gone 
 before their master to the grave. The machinery of Methodism 
 was complete, and at Tadcaster it was in very active exercise ; 
 but probably much of the living interest and fervor spread 
 abroad in almost every part of our land by its first teachers 
 had evaporated. It was, at all events, not from this " adminis- 
 tration " of revealed truth that ovir mother received, as she has 
 noted in the following passage, those views of the Christian 
 message which wei'e through life her abiding ones.] 
 
 It was in the winter of 1788 that I met, at the house 
 of the Misses Hutton (two excellent maiden ladies) at 
 Tadcaster, the Rev John Clowes, Rector of St. John's 
 Church, in Manchester. The bond between these pious 
 and primitive old ladies and Mr. Clowes was, I believe, 
 their mutual admiration of the writings of Emanuel 
 
CONVERSATION OF THE REV. J. CLOWES. 41 
 
 Swedenborg. Although I could not participate in their 
 enthusiasm for that visionary writer, I think it was from 
 Mr. Clowes's conversation and writings that I first became 
 interested in the spiritual sense of true religion, or, in 
 other woi'ds, felt its experimental truth ; and I wish here 
 to preserve the following transcript of the conversation 
 which I made from memory after passing the evening with 
 Mr. Clowes at Miss Hutton's. Several ladies, some of 
 the Methodist persuasion, were present. His views have 
 always appeared to me to contain much of the true spirit 
 of Christianity. 
 
 Being asked his opinion of Mr. Law's ' woi'ks, Mr. Clowes 
 said, " I read them, madam, with great diligence and much 
 affection, and I found that they tended to produce a pure, 
 holy, and peaceable frame of mind, but I found likewise 
 that they disqualified a man for the duty of his calling. I 
 could not even go to perform my duty in the church with- 
 out finding something to disturb me. This made me con- 
 jecture that all was not right in Mr. Law's doctrine, and I 
 conceive it to be this : that it is admirably suited for the 
 contemplative but not for the active life of man, inasmuch 
 as it does not bring the oiitward man into entire subjec- 
 tion to the inner man, for man has two lives, or two 
 beings, in his very best state while on earth." 
 
 Speaking of regeneration, Mr. Clowes said he conceived 
 the vision of Jacob's ladder to afford a beautiful figure on 
 this subject, and that we should do well to consider that 
 the descent was a much more difficult and arduous task 
 than the ascent. The ascent was the desire of knowledge, 
 or the love of truth, which made us climb the ladder, that 
 we might know God and the things of His kingdom ; but 
 when we have reached the top of the ladder it will avail 
 us nothing unless the love-jprinciple, or the love of good, 
 1 Author of " Serious Call." 
 
42 A UTOBIO GRAPH Y. 
 
 descend with us, jDenetrate to the very bottom of our hearts, 
 and purge them of all unclean affections, so that the natural 
 man should act under entire subordination to, and entire 
 conjunction with, the spiritual man. Thus is the descent 
 much more ditficult than the ascent, as it is said, " And he 
 dreamed, and behold a ladder set up on the earth, and the 
 top of it reached to heaven ; and behold the angels of God 
 ascending and descending on it." 
 
 Asking him how we should know that we were in a safe 
 state without deceiving ourselves, he said, " Let us carefully 
 examine what is our delight. If our delight be in good, 
 then may we certainly conclude that our state is safe, because 
 all good is from God and the things of His kingdom." 
 
 When asked what he conceived to be the state of the 
 blessed, he replied, in a calm but animated tone of voice, 
 " I conceive the state of the blessed to be a total forgetful- 
 ness or absence of self, and to consist in beholding the 
 good and happiness of others, so that every individual will 
 enjoy the whole happiness of heaven." He afterwards 
 said, " It was a princijjle in the old law, that if any man 
 should kill his neighbor unawares, he might abide for a 
 time in the ' City of Refuge.' This he conceived a beauti- 
 ful figure to represent the mercy of God. We often 
 engaged in action from a jjrinciple of good, but in the per- 
 formance of it were overtaken unawares by some evil or 
 uncharitable inclination. The good principle which at 
 first operated was from God, and this is the city of refuge 
 in which we may abide until the enemy which thwarted 
 us is overcome." He added, " The state of man is a state 
 of absolute dependence upon God, and the most desirable 
 frame of mind is that in which the Psalmist saith, ' I am 
 poor and needy, but the Lord careth for me.' " 
 
 Being asked what was meant by justifying faith, he 
 said, " It is to be feared many deceive themselves in this 
 
CONVERSATION OF THE REV. J. CLOWES. 43 
 
 matter. It is dangerous to rest our salvation on the bare 
 belief of the death and sufferings of our Lord. That is 
 indeed resting in the first attainments of religion. Belief 
 enlightens the understanding, but it is love which regulates 
 the affections and produces obedience to the commands of 
 God, without which no man can enter into the kingdom of 
 glory. Works are not in themselves meritorious, but as 
 being tests of obedience, for without works the spiritual 
 world would stagnate." 
 
 " I conceive," he said, " that the great evil of life arises 
 from a contempt of others in comparison with self. A 
 strict and resolute self-examination, therefore, and sup- 
 plication for Divine assistance, will enable us to expel this 
 evU, for evil affections must be expelled before we can 
 receive good ones. Who would put lambs among wolves ? " 
 On being asked if he thought fear and doubt of the 
 favor of God consistent with true faith, he said, " Most 
 certainly; for it is impossible to arrive at any degree of 
 favor with God but by the state of deep and sincere 
 humiliation, which produces fear and doubt, and which 
 proceeds from a clear conception of the beauty and holiness 
 of the Lord's kingdom. TMs is, perhaps, the best state 
 man can be in, because while he is under the influence of 
 these fears he will be continually laboring to grow better, 
 and be continually dependent on God for grace and favor. 
 This is the cross which we must all bear if we would be 
 followers of the Lamb and partakers of His kingdom. 
 We are commanded not to resist evil, for the fierce and 
 violent spu'it of opposition which this resistance would 
 demand is hurtful to us. When evil assailments come, 
 our only security is in our dependence upon God. He 
 will give us strength to overcome evil, though we should 
 perish in attempting to resist it. Every man is according 
 to his own desire, for assuredly the Lord wills the good and 
 
44 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 happiness of all His creatures. If a man say he desires 
 to be better, and that he is unhappy because his desire is 
 not fulfilled, let not that man be impatient ; he has begun 
 to bear his cross, and if he bears it patiently, humbly wait- 
 ing for a better state, he will certainly obtain his desire. 
 The good he did, because he saw it was commanded, will 
 soon be his delight ; and to delight in good is the temper 
 and disposition of, angels." 
 
 I renewed my acquaintance with this truly pious and 
 amiable man twenty years afterwards, when on a visit to 
 Miss Kennedy at Manchester, in 1808. He was much 
 beloved and honored by the large congregation of St. 
 John's Church, Manchester ; and when he had been fifty 
 years their rector, they erected in that church a marble 
 tablet, with a design and inscription expressive of the 
 affection of his flock towards him, and of their gratitude 
 for his labors of love in the promotion of Sunday Schools, 
 and in the moral and religious education of the poor. 
 Soon afterwards he removed, on account of his state of 
 health, to Warwick, where 1 saw him again in 1829. He 
 told me that he was then in his 84th year, — employed in 
 translating the Psalms from the Hebrew, and that his 
 motive for such undertaking was " to control the activity 
 of his thoughts, and to give them a profitable direction." 
 
 In the spring of 1789 my father allowed me to accom- 
 pany Mr. and Mrs. "Wright, of Lawton, in Perthshire (who 
 had come to place their eldest daughter at school at York), 
 to pay a second visit to my friend Mrs. Meliss, in the 
 neighborhood of Perth. On our way through Edinburgh 
 I called on Mr. Fletcher at his lodgings in Parliament 
 Square, along with Mr. and Mrs. Wi'ight. His servant 
 told us that he was at the General Assembly. We left 
 our Edinburgh address — Captain Inglis, George Square ; 
 and in the evening Mr. Fletcher joined us there, and 
 
VISIT TO PERTH. 45 
 
 accompanied us on horseback next morning part of tlie way 
 to the Queen's Ferry, but was obliged to leave us to attend 
 his duty in the General Assembly of the Church, of which 
 he was an elder, and where he was then most warmly en- 
 gaged in supporting the claims of Professor Dalzel to be 
 Clerk of the Assembly. I meantime proceeded with Mr. and 
 Mrs. Wright to Perth, and took up my residence again at 
 the house of my friends Mr. and Mrs. Meliss, at their pleas- 
 ant villa of Rosemount, near that place. My impressions 
 of the hospitality, kindness, and superior information of the 
 Scotch, in comparison with those of the same rank in Eng- 
 land, were confirmed by my second visit to Scotland. As soon 
 as his engagements admitted of his leaving Edinburgh, Mr. 
 Fletcher came to pay a visit at Mr. Meliss's, and then the 
 opportunity of conversing much together confirmed the at- 
 tachment he had entertained for me from our first acquaint- 
 ance in 1787, and converted the sentiments of respect and 
 high esteem I had felt for him into those of a tenderer nature. 
 I thought I had never met with a person of such real eleva- 
 tion of mind, and such independence and worth of character ; 
 and a happy union of thirty-seven years as his wife served 
 to confirm me in that opinion. It was agreed that he 
 should come to Harrogate in/llie autumn of that year, and 
 from thence pay us a visit, when he had my permission to 
 make his wishes known to my father. In the mean time 
 we were to correspond as friends, as we had formerly 
 done. His letters were always shown to my father ; and 
 perhaps a person much versed in the language of the heart 
 might have discovered more in them than the lectures of 
 a philosopher or the epistles of a friend. The autumn 
 arrived, however, and the eclaircissement was made. My 
 father positively opposed the union. We were willing to 
 wait till he thought Mr. Fletcher's circumstances justi- 
 fied the prudence of it. But no ! — my kind, fond, and 
 
46 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 hitherto most indulgent father had formed splendid ex- 
 pectations for the child on whom he doted. He could 
 not think of parting with me to such a distance. He could 
 not think of my marrying a man altogether without 
 fortune, and where there was so great a disparity of years, 
 — one, too, who had made no provision for a family. 
 These were sound and rational objections. I admitted 
 that they were so, and I promised to remam unmarried; 
 but I felt that I had so far encouraged Mr. Fletcher's 
 attachment, that I could not, either with honor to him or 
 satisfaction to myself, marry any other person. I was 
 not, perhaps, what in the language of romance is called 
 in love with Mr. Fletcher, but I was deeply and tenderly 
 attached to him. He had inspired a confidence and regard 
 I had never felt for any other man. I could not bear the 
 thought of marrying in opposition to my father's will, but 
 I was resolved on principle never to marry so long as Mr. 
 Fletcher remained single. This did not satisfy my father. 
 For the first time in his life he was unjust ; he attempted to 
 effect that by authority which he had failed to accomplish 
 by reason and kindness. He became stern and severe in 
 his conduct towards me. This produced its necessary 
 consequence — evasion and concealment. I received Mr. 
 Fletcher's letters clandestinely. I was decidedly wrong in 
 doing so ; but either I must have sacrificed Mr. Fletcher's 
 happiness without satisfying my father's prejudices, or I 
 must have continued the correspondence. I chose the 
 latter, with the sincere intention of prevailing on Mr. 
 Fletcher to give up the engagement, for it would then have 
 been less painful to me to have done so than to have 
 offended rny father. But I was unacquainted with the 
 history of the human heart ; at the end of two years 1 
 found that Mr. Fletcher had reasoned me into a conviction 
 that it would be best for the interest and happiness of all 
 
VISIT TO RIP ON. 47 
 
 parties that we should marry ; but my father's objections, 
 though quite natural, were not founded in truth and justice, 
 since he had nothing to object to in Mr. Fletcher's character 
 or position in society. 
 
 In the winter of 1789-90 I paid a visit to a friend at 
 Ripon, — Mrs. Harrison, — and there became acquainted 
 with Lord Grantley. He was then, I should think, border- 
 ing on fifty, a man of insinuating address and of culti- 
 vated taste and accomplishments. He distinguished me by 
 marked attention, invited my father to accompany me to 
 visit him and his mother at Grantley, and showed me a 
 preference, which, had my heart been untouched and my 
 faith unpledged, might, by flattering my vanity, have made 
 some impression on my heart. But happily I had noth- 
 ing of the coquette in my disposition, and the attentions 
 of this nobleman, though flattering, were indifferent to me. 
 I had, besides, no good opinion of his moral character, and 
 in all the partialities and friendships I have had in life, 
 either towards my own sex or the other, I never could 
 found friendship on anything but solid esteem and moral 
 approbation. I might be pleased or amused with, but I 
 could not like, far less love, any one I did not thoroughly 
 respect. Report and gossip, even so far as paragraphs in 
 newspapers, gave my hand to Lord Grantley. Certainly 
 he never asked me to do so in words ; his attentions were 
 always delicate and respectful. He visited me frequently at 
 my father's house, but I took care to save his pride by re- 
 questing a mutual friend — Dr. Kilvington — to acquaint 
 him with my engagement to Mr. Fletcher. From that time 
 his visits to my father's house were discontinued. Mr. 
 Fletcher was made acquainted by me with every visit 
 this noble person paid me ; and I believe it was owing to 
 my virtuous attachment to him that I was saved from 
 sacrificing my happiness to a splendid but miserable fate. 
 
48 , AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Lord Gi^antley might, or he might not, have had serious 
 intentions to make me an offer of marriage. Had I been 
 free, it is possible that the vanity of my character might 
 have led me to encourage his addresses. I never did so, 
 however, but I perceived that my dear father was gratified 
 to see me so distinguished ; and though he would never 
 have consented to sacrifice me to a bad man, of any rank, 
 had he known him to be such, he could scarcely persuade 
 himself that one of that condition, who preferred his 
 daughter, could be undeserving. My excellent aunt, and 
 my attached friend, 'Mrs. Brudenell, pleaded my cause and 
 Mr. Fletcher's with my father; still he remained inex- 
 orable. My health began to suffer from the alienation of 
 my father's confidence and kindness. My home was no 
 longer cheerful or hapj^y. Since he would not be satisfied 
 with my remaining unmarried, all my hope now was in his 
 becoming reconciled to my marriage to one whom I was 
 sure he would find worthy of my confidence, — and on the 
 16th of July, 1791, I became the wife of Mr. Fletcher. 
 
 [The marriage ceremony took place in Tadcaster church, 
 and though her father did not sanction it by his presence, he 
 did not on that day refuse a loving farewell to his child, nor 
 did he refuse to see the husband to whom she had given herself 
 with a rightly assured heart. " Be kind to her, sir, she has 
 been tenderly brought up," were his parting words to him, as 
 aunt Dawson used to tell us. Never were words lodged in a 
 more faithful heart, or acted on more tenderly.] 
 
 And here [our mother continues, after giving the date 
 of her marriage] I am inclined to review the circumstances 
 which had hitherto formed my character. My mother 
 having died soon after giving me birth, that event gave a 
 melancholy interest to my life from its very commencement. 
 I became an object of the concentrated affections of all the 
 family, and this acted in two ways — as a great stimulus to 
 
REFLECTIONS ON HER MARRIAGE. 49 
 
 the desire of approbation and as a powerful means of culti- 
 vating the kindly affections. I became early acquainted 
 with the happiness of being tenderly beloved, and was 
 reared and nourished by the "law of kindness." I was 
 wholly governed by that law, and knew no other authority. 
 I had no temptation to violate truth, because I was treated 
 with openness and justice ; but so great was my fear of 
 giving offence, that I remember, at four years old, to have 
 pinned on the head of a beautiful tulip which I had in- 
 advertently broken, and instead of frankly acknowledging 
 the mischief I had done, I tried artfully to conceal it. My 
 father's stern reproof at this little instance of deception 
 and concealment made a deep impression on my mind. It 
 was the first time I had done anything to forfeit his con- 
 fidence, or to feel the disgrace of having acted a lie. The 
 excessive pain his displeasure gave me, and the degradation 
 of being convicted of meanness, made me thenceforward 
 ready to confess my faults, and I was rewarded with the 
 praise I dearly loved for being open and ingenuous. My 
 religious education in childhood was simple and impressive. 
 I was early taught to love God because He was good, and 
 to desire to be good myself that I might not offend Him. 
 My father's scriptural maxim, and that which he con- 
 sidered the test of religion as well as morals, was " t-o do 
 to others as we would be done unto." This sacred axiom 
 formed my only code of morals. My father's life was an 
 illustration of this principle. Much as I was praised, 
 indulged, and excited, I never was suffered to domineer 
 over or to act unjustly or unkindly towards others ; and I 
 do think that the selfish passions were early curbed and 
 brought into subjection by the example as well as precepts 
 of those I lived with. As I was an object of much 
 tenderness and affection, so nature and 'education gave me 
 an affectionate and grateful disposition. I remember my 
 
 3 D 
 
50 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 friend, Dr. Kilvington, in writing to me once said, " I have 
 known as beautiful, as attractive, and more witty young 
 women, but I have never known any one so tenderly, and 
 truly, and universally beloved as you are, and I believe it 
 arises from your capacity of loving others." I had nothing 
 satirical in my disposition, no wish to detract from, or to 
 see others mortified. I had little merit in this, having, as 
 I said before, no very quick perception of the ludicrous. 
 I was sufficiently vain of my own good qualities, and 
 sufficiently blinded by self-love to the defects of my own 
 character ; but this did not lessen my respect for, or 
 admiration of, the excellence of others. I never was 
 tormented with any of the passions that belong to " the 
 family of hatred." I was too easily provoked to anger, 
 but it was momentary, and I almost instantly sought 
 reconciliation when I had given offence. I had not been 
 brought up in the school of fashion, which so sadly hardens 
 the heart and limits the understanding. The great error 
 of my education was, that it excited too great a desire for 
 general approbation. This led to something like a love of 
 display, and it cost me much in after life to conquer the 
 mischief of this propensity. Mrs. Brudenell early culti- 
 vated in me a high-toned and poetical turn of mind, and 
 if vanity was mixed up with this feeling, it saved me from 
 the vice of gossiping, from the love of finery, and other 
 vulgar propensities. I had been a happy and indulged 
 child in my father's house. I was going to enter on a new 
 and a wider sphere of duties. "When leisure serves I will 
 endeavor to set down faithfully how they were performed. 
 
 \_From Mr. Fletcher, explanatory how Eliza Dawson acquired 
 the name of Sophia in April 1787 : — 
 
 "From repeated observation of the character of ray own 
 mind, I think it is distinguished by some contradictions. Not 
 
ME. FLETCHERS LETTER IN 1787. 51 
 
 incapable of submitting to dull and dry studies, it can also 
 travel "with delight, even with romantic wildness, into the fields 
 of fancy and imagination. No young lady with the warmest 
 imagination ever read plays or novels with more pleasure or 
 more avidity than I have always done, and still do. I take 
 the keenest interest in the ideal characters I like, and conceive 
 the hottest resentment against those whose manners I disap- 
 prove. I am, in fact, agitated in the same manner as if I were 
 acquainted and concerned with such persons in transactions in 
 common life. 
 
 " In 1779 or 1780 I was confined for many weeks to the 
 house. I spent my time partly in reading novels. Among 
 these there fell into my hands, I think for the first time, the 
 beautiful novel of ' Tom Jones,' by Fielding. I was struck 
 with its variety of incident, its striking delineation of character, 
 and its inimitable manner of describing the secret springs of 
 human conduct. Sophia was too beautiful and too brilliant a 
 figure not to attract in a most peculiar manner my attention. 
 I was astonished. Sophia, painted by the inimitable pencil of 
 Fielding, was just the woman I desired to see. She was in 
 every respect so. Her person, her manners, her sentiments, 
 her disposition, were such as it was impossible not to admire. 
 She never uttered a thought of which I did not cordially 
 approve, nor disclosed a passion with which I did not instantly 
 sympathize, and her manner^ of saying and doing everything 
 was unspeakably graceful; the more surprising, too, that she 
 never appeared to have been away from the house of her 
 father, a country gentleman. In this lady, from almost the 
 first moment I was introduced to her acquaintance, I took the 
 warmest interest. I was perfectly uneasy when she was out 
 of sight. I passed over parts of the book until I came to those 
 parts where I was to be introduced to her company. In short, 
 I loved Sophia with sincerity, and although I am ashamed 
 almost to confess it, as it seems so ridiculously romantic, yet 
 the truth is that this ideal Sophia made so deep an impression 
 on my imagination that it never was effaced till the second or. 
 third day of my visit (I know not yet whether to call it fatal 
 or fortunate visit) at Oxton, in April 1787 ; and since you 
 have desired me to tell why I have given you the name of 
 
52 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Sophia, you must excuse me if I relate the time and manner 
 in which you completely erased from my mind every trace and 
 impression of the ideal Sophia, who had been so long the 
 object of my adoration, but whose place you have ever since 
 occiipied with additional advantages. 
 
 " You know I set out on my journey from Scotland to London 
 in 1787, in company with your amiable friends, the Melisses 
 of Perth, at a time when I was ignorant that such a person as 
 Eliza Dawson existed in the world, far less that she was so 
 very dangerous a personage as I have since found her to be. 
 In the course of our journey I heard my agreeable fellow- 
 travellers often mention the name of Eliza Dawson, with 
 expressions of peculiar regard and esteem, but without saying 
 anything of her person or accomplishments. I therefore paid 
 little or no attention to the conversation, so far as respected 
 her, and expecting to meet with nothing at Oxton (for I had on 
 the road learned the name) that could either amuse or inform, 
 I was exti'emely unwilling to go there at all, being very im- 
 patient to push forward to London. Besides the pressing 
 nature of our business, which was urgent and important, London 
 — a new and great scene — presented to my imagination the 
 strongest inducements to dispatch. I proposed to Meliss that 
 I should wait at the inn at Tadcaster, or some other place, 
 imtil he should leave Mrs. Meliss at Oxton, and that we should 
 proceed to London as soon as possible ; but Meliss then told 
 me, I think for the first time, that he intended to make a stay 
 of some days at Oxton. I was surprised, and not a little dis- 
 pleased, at this unexpected interruption. However I resolved, 
 though with reluctance, to accompany my friends to Oxton, but 
 not in the best humor. As I am rather irritable than sour, 
 it soon went off, I believe before we reached Oxton, at least I 
 am sui-e it did not continue long after. Mrs. Brudenell was 
 there at tea ; she was the person who first engaged my atten- 
 tion ; her frankness was uncommon, and soon removed any 
 little remains of discontent I had felt at being stopped in my 
 progress towards the metropolis. I knew the reserve of the 
 Scotch character, I had heard much of the open frankness of 
 the English ; Mrs. Brudenell, I thought, proved it to be true, 
 and I was pleased without being surprised. Before I was au 
 
MR. FLETCHERS LETTER IN 1787. 53 
 
 hour or two in the house I knew, I think, from this lady her- 
 self, a great part of her history, though it was rather peculiar. 
 For a long time she exclusively, or almost exclusively, occupied 
 my attention and conversation. When she was gone (for I 
 think she went away before supper), or when her discourse was 
 exhausted, I had time to observe Miss Dawson, of whom I 
 think I had not before taken the least notice, unless by once 
 or twice glancing towards her, which produced no effect but a 
 pretty strong curiosity to be better acquainted with her. We 
 exchanged some words ; without any skill in physiognomy or 
 pretending to apply its rules, I was soon pi-epossessed. The 
 conversation proceeded. Miss Eliza gradually unfolded herself; 
 she riveted my attention more completely than Mrs. Brude- 
 nell had done. I listened with greater surprise and pleasure. 
 I soon discovered in a beautiful form an elegance of mind and 
 sentiment, and an easy gracefulness of manner, which I thought 
 were not natural to the little village of Oxton. I began to be 
 interested in Eliza ; I felt a very particular desire to sit beside 
 her at supper, and I think I contrived to do it. I was still 
 more and more pleased with her manner and conversation. 
 Her easy affability was such that I think we were tolerably 
 well acquainted before supper was done. Nothing could be 
 more pleasing to me than Eliza^'s frankness — nothing more 
 delightful than her elegant turn of manner and conversation, 
 and the peculiar intelligence by which it was conducted. 
 'There is,' I said to myself, 'something very uncommon 
 about this girl ; I wonder Meliss never spoke of her in a more 
 particular manner.' When the ladies retired after supper I 
 felt an uneasy sensation, as if I had been deprived of something 
 which contributed extremely to the pleasure of the company. I 
 could not enjoy the company afterwards, though in any other 
 circumstances it would, I think, have been agreeable, for it was 
 distinguished by every mark of politeness and hospitality. 
 Meliss went with me into my room, on which I instantly 
 turned and said, rather peevishly (though surely that was 
 absurd), ' Meliss, why did you never speak of Miss Dawson in 
 a more particular manner on our journey ? or did you never 
 discover anything superior about her ? ' Meliss laughed, and 
 said he believed Mrs. Meliss wanted to surprise me. ' If that 
 
54 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 was her object,' said I, 'it is completely accomplished, for I 
 never was more surprised in my lifetime.' Meliss again 
 laughed, and maliciously asked me whether I wished to be off 
 for London next morning. I bade him go to his bed, and I 
 should think of that after I had slept. 
 
 " I awoke next morning without the least desire to leave Oxton. 
 My impatience to be in Loudon was greatly diminished. A few 
 days sooner or later, I thought, did not signify much, and the 
 state of our public business, though it was pressing, did not 
 require absolutely that we should be in London on a precise 
 day. All the anticipated enjoyments of London vanished. I 
 became quite reconciled to a longer residence at Oxton. My 
 only anxiety now was to see Eliza again in the morning, and I 
 felt an irresistible desire to place myself beside her at break- 
 fast. She appeared to still more advantage; I was indeed 
 charmed. When breakfast was about over and I took a view 
 of Eliza's form, manner, and conversation, the character of 
 Sophia Western instantly flashed on my mind. The resem- 
 blance was in every feature striking. I began from that 
 moment to lose sight entirely of the ideal Sophia who had so 
 long figured in my imagination, and to transfer the name, for 
 which I had so peculiar a fondness, to Eliza Dawson. I 
 mentioned the circumstance to Meliss. I baptized Eliza by 
 the name of Sophia, to which I had ascribed every amiable 
 quality. The more I became acquainted with Eliza, the more 
 I was convinced of the truth of the resemblance between the 
 two characters. I grew quite uneasy when Eliza was not 
 present; I was unhappy if I did not sit beside her at table. 
 The mind of Eliza every day gradually and occasionally unfolded 
 itself with peculiar force as well as elegance. If I had found 
 brilliants on the wild and rugged mountains among which I 
 first drew my breath, I could not have been more surprised 
 and delighted than I was by meeting such a person as Eliza. 
 'Fielding,' said I, ' you have di-awn your heroine, it must be 
 confessed, with a fine pencil, but here is in real life, at a little 
 country village, a character every way equal, in some respects 
 far superior. Without saying anything of external form, the 
 mental accomplishments of Eliza Dawson are above those of 
 the amiable and intelligent Sophia Western. You seem to 
 
MR. FLETCHERS LETTER IN 1787. 55 
 
 think, Fielding, that knowledge of books is no ornament to a 
 woman ; but had you known Eliza Dawson, you would have 
 altered your opinion. She would " have taught you how 
 compatible literary acquirements are with the most engaging 
 feminine manners, and when so blended you would have seen 
 how much they must contribute both to the ornament and 
 the happiness of life." ' Such were my sentiments of Eliza 
 Dawson, early adopted, and since confirmed by indubitable 
 experience. 
 
 " Every hour of my residence at Oxton increased my esteem 
 for Eliza Dawson. I could not endure to call her by any other 
 name than that of Sophia, so deeply fixed in my imagination 
 was the resemblance between her and the ideal Sophia, with 
 the advantage every way on her side. One incident had, 
 however, one day piqued me not a little. I had been jDretty 
 free of my censures on Pope's Translation of Homer, which 
 unluckily had been a favorite with Sophia, but she listened 
 with at least apparent satisfaction to what I had said. Some 
 time afterwards, during our residence at Oxton, on conversing 
 with Meliss on the subject of my criticisms on Pope, Meliss, 
 without any design I believe, mentioned that Sophia, in 
 allusion to my criticisms, had observed that some people were 
 very ill to please, and made criticisms merely to show that they 
 could make them, or something of that kind. I was, I confess, 
 seriously offended by this r-einark of Sophia, to whose good 
 sense and clear intelligence I had meant to pay a compliment 
 by entering at all on such a subject, but I said nothing to 
 Meliss about my taking Sophia's observation ill. I, however, 
 positively determined never to make to her another observation 
 of the same or a similar kind, and to keep a profound silence 
 and reserve, and to converse as little as possible with Sophia 
 during the remainder of my stay at Oxton. In this resolution 
 I thought myself fixed and unalterable, but I no sooner saw 
 Sophia than it was violated, and I conversed with her with as 
 much openness and as little reserve as ever. I was surprised at 
 my weakness, but could not help it ; and every trace of my 
 resentment was effaced by Sophia's sitting beside me almost the 
 whole night of Mrs. Brudenell's concert at the cottage. It is 
 amazing how easily the imagination embraces what one wishes 
 
56 A UTO BIO GRAPHY. 
 
 to be true. I thought Sophia took some satisfaction in being 
 with me rather than with any other, but I immediately checked 
 this idea by asking myself how weak it was to mistake a mere 
 mark of polite attention to a stranger for a partiality which 
 could not exist. I, however, sincerely declare I was so happy, 
 that I thought I never could wish to separate from Oxton. 
 But the hour now approached when I perceived I must leave 
 it, with whatever reluctance. Sophia accompanied us to the 
 coach, and in going there, I know not by what accident or 
 power of sympathy, but we certainly walked arm in arm — a 
 little circumstance which increased beyond measure my reluc- 
 tance at leaving Oxton. When we arrived at the coach, and I 
 contrasted the form and manner of Sophia with a female 
 figure to whose company I saw we must for some time be 
 sacrificed, I own I was shocked. I could scarcely think them 
 of the same species. I was mortified beyond measure when I 
 sat down in the coach — my change of situation was too sudden 
 and too violent. 
 
 " Misery, however, is often ingenious in relieving itself. I 
 soon learned — I know not how — that Meliss had got Sophia's 
 watch to get repaired in London. I immediately seized on 
 the watch as the only representative or substitute for Sophia 
 I could have, and gave Meliss mine. This watch of Sophia's 
 was my darling companion by day and night; in the posses- 
 sion of it I took the most extreme delight, and kept it the 
 whole time, except when I was reluctantly obliged to part 
 with it, to send to the watchmaker. When I was possessed of 
 it I felt, I thought, some connection between Sophia and me. 
 It is astonishing what trivial circumstances affection will lay 
 hold of to gratify itself. Stripped of this watch, I really 
 knew not what to do, how to get anything belonging to Sophia, 
 or how to begin a correspondence with her, without which I 
 felt I could not be happy. I resolved to make her a present 
 of Ossian's Poems, in the view of giving rise to some corre- 
 spondence. What has followed since, Sophia is acquainted 
 with, and I need not repeat it. It depends on her whether I am 
 to be rendered for ever happy or miserable by that visit at 
 Oxton which gave her the name of Sophia, a name to which 
 I own I am still partial, because I know no other word that 
 
LETTERS TO MR. FLETCHER. 57 
 
 brings so forcibly and so clearly before me the accomplishments 
 and perfections of Eliza Dawson. A. F." 
 
 I cannot resist inserting parts of two letters to my father 
 before their marriage, in the same year in which it took place 
 (1791), as marking the entire confidence and trust she placed 
 in the man who had won her affections by the depth and 
 constancy of his own. The old-fashioned mode of speaking of 
 herself as Sophia, the name he gave her after their first meeting 
 in 1787, is sometimes kept up in the correspondence of four 
 years' continuance. This letter is dated January 1791. 
 
 " Sunday Jforninff. 
 
 " Having put me in possession of your religious sentiments, 
 and of your opinion that nothing but a life of active faith and 
 obedience can assure to us the blessings of eternity, you will 
 think, perhaps, the circumstance Sophia was led to mention 
 at the beginning of this letter savors something of Romish 
 superstition, as, on perusing it herself, Sophia really thinks it 
 appears that she was arrogating to herself the monkish office 
 of absolution. As she believes that is the very last character 
 her friend would wish her to assume, she is desirous of explain- 
 ing the motives that carry her every day to the bedside of the 
 dying woman she mentioned, and as often to read to her the 
 evangelical writings. ^'^ 
 
 " This poor woman is above eighty; her character in early 
 life is said not to have been immaculate. However, about seven 
 years ago, she came, laden with infirmities, to ask relief from 
 this parish (to which she belongs), and was accordingly sent 
 to the town workhouse. She fell sick about six weeks ago, 
 and has no friend or relation near. This circumstance acci- 
 dentally came to my knowledge, and I went to see her, and 
 found her in a nice clean bed, in a very comfortable little room 
 (for, to the credit of this place, the poor-house is admirably 
 conducted) ; an old woman had been hired to attend her. ' ] 
 want nothing, madam, that money can furnish ; but 1 am on 
 my deathbed, and I have not one creature in the world that 
 cares for me. I have endeavored to make my peace with God 
 and my Saviour, but I want somebody to read to me ; / want 
 3* 
 
58 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 a comforter.'' These, my dear friend, were her very words, 
 uttered in a voice scarcely audible. Every day since I have 
 read to her those parts of Scripture where ' The Comforter ' 
 is promised, and the mercy of God to the repentant sinner is 
 most fully revealed and manifested. Did you see how she 
 stretches her withered arm to put by the bed-curtain when she 
 hears me oijen the door — how she points to the Bible that lies 
 on a chest of drawers near the bedside, then points to a chair, 
 which Sophia draws close to the bed, then listens while she 
 reads slowly and distinctly, and, without speaking a single word, 
 when any passage strikes her, raises her hand quietly, an 
 impulse of devotion which Sophia observes and always repeats 
 the passage — did you see all this, my dear friend, and perceive 
 how hope brightens her countenance, marred as it is by the 
 hand of death, you would, I know, for such a scene, relinquish 
 almost every other that imagination can conceive to give 
 comfort here. She told me to-day, in a whisper, she had no 
 fear of death, and added, 'You have indeed comforted me.' 
 I promised to see her every day while she lived, and the last 
 word I heard her utter was a blessing on me, raising herself a 
 little In bed, and putting by the bed-curtain to see me as long 
 as she was able. My dearest friend, what a tale is thi^ to 
 relate to a profound politician and a learned lawyer! but my 
 politician has a heart and a mind which I value above all his 
 profundity and all his learning, for he has a heart and mind that 
 can feel an interest in every story where Nature and simplicity 
 form a part, and above all, wherein his Sophia is concerned." 
 
 " This moment I have come from performing my evening 
 service in the kitchen, reading and explaining to the servants 
 the words of Christ. I find the parlor empty, the good folks 
 having all adjourned to our father's apartment, and this leaves 
 me leisure to converse with you on paper. I am never more 
 disposed for this gratification than when I have been discharg- 
 ing an important duty : the delightful impression this leaves 
 upon my mind never fails to make me more sensible of the 
 happiness of loving and being beloved by you. I have felt 
 this very forcibly and very often, without inquiring into the 
 cause, as, on the other hand, I reproach myself much more 
 
LETTERS FROM E. D. 59 
 
 severely for every fault tliat I commit than I used to do, prior 
 to our unequalled attachment. What a preservative, or rather 
 what an incentive to virtue is such an attachment; it is com- 
 posed of sentiments that have exalted us above ourselves — 
 I say above ourselves, for we should never have known what 
 we were capable of, we should have remained ignorant of 
 ourselves, if we had not known each other. We have, if you 
 will allow me the expression, been mirrors to each other. Had 
 we formed other connections we possibly might have glided 
 through life like common lovers and fashionable married people, 
 and have been totally unacquainted with our own extensive 
 capacity for disinterested friendship, and deep and delicate affec- 
 tion. You would have continued mounted on your hobby-horse, 
 and have loved fame better than your wife. My character was 
 far less decided, I think, — as Pope says, 'I had no character 
 at all,' — before I knew you, therefore it is hard to say how I 
 
 should have turned out. 1 am interrupted — and I find this 
 
 interruption has broken the thread of my story. 
 
 " The only conclusion we can deduce from the above is, that 
 no two persons were ever so happily destined for each other. 
 
 " E. D." 
 
 Fart of Letter to Miss Cleaver, afterwards Mrs. Chapman. 
 
 ". . . . You tell me never to expect a regular letter, and 
 complain you are ' tasteless^-and uninteresting to yourself . ' I 
 am certain you can find no other person to whom you are 
 uninteresting, and least of all to me, so write to me often, and 
 give me leave to judge whether or not your letters are insipid. 
 Dear Nanny, you were formed for activity and exertion, and 
 you suffer your powers to lie confined and dormant. I send 
 you a little book, simply written, from which, I think, more 
 real benefit may be deduced, both to yourself and others, than 
 from ten thousand folio pages of subtle disputations and 
 philosophical reasonings: such authors are read and admired; 
 their precepts in theory are excellent ; but Mrs. Trimmer 
 recommends a practical system, which, if persevered in with 
 ardor, will effectually prevent you from feehng ' uninteresting 
 to yourself.' She drives away ennui by teaching you to 
 become a truly useful member of society. I declare to you 1 
 
60 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 speak from conviction. I used to substitute sentiment for 
 activity ; and tliough I had a silent gratification in the indul- 
 gence of my feelings, I -was not happy. ' The Economy of 
 Charity ' pointed out to me an easy method of being useful to 
 others, and I of course became more important to myself, and 
 therefore happier ; for nothing is more necessary to happiness 
 than a certain portion of self-importance. All this you know 
 as well as I can tell you, only I can affirm that I can speak 
 from experience. If possible, continue personally to interest 
 yourself with your little flock, and contriving schemes for their 
 improvement : if they never answer, the disappointment won't 
 give you so much pain as the conception gave you pleasure. 
 I know you too well, and have known you too long, to be 
 deceived. With a heart so susceptible, and a mind so sanguine, 
 you cannot exist without exertion. There are few people I 
 should write to in this manner, because few people are like 
 you. If this letter is welcome to you, write next week and 
 tell me so. — Yours, Eliza Dawsox." 
 
 Inscribed on a blank leaf of Lavafer^s Work sent to Eliza 
 Daivson by Mr. Cartwright. 
 
 When on Eliza's face I fix my sight. 
 That living page I read with most delight, 
 I ask thee not, Lavater, to impart 
 The rules fallacious of thy idle art. 
 Without thy aid, -untutored, there I find 
 Each perfect trace of her inspiring mind ; 
 There Wit and Fancy's rays united shine, 
 And Sense and Genius mark each varied line ; 
 There Taste and quick Intelligence appear — 
 Intelligence as intuition clear. 
 Nor less the moral features can I trace 
 ' In the sweet lines of that expressive face. 
 How rich the radiance of that bright expanse 1 
 Where every virtue beams in every glance — 
 Affections such as angels feel reside — 
 Soft without weakness ; firm, yet free from pride. 
 
LINES BY MR. CARTWRIGHT. 61 
 
 There, too, see sensibility of soul, 
 
 Enchanting grace diffusing o'er the whole, 
 
 That, scorning dull cold Apathy's disguise. 
 
 Glows in her cheek and sparkles in her eyes. 
 
 What explanation, say then, can I need 
 
 Of characters that he who runs may read? 
 
 Yet this I '11 own — could thy pretended skill 
 
 In prompt obedience to my ardent will. 
 
 Instruct me how to read her inmost heart, 
 
 Provided there in some dear tender part 
 
 My favored name, by Love's soft trembling hand 
 
 Imprinted deep, were suffered to expand. 
 
 Then, then indeed, thy art would I adore. 
 
 And freely own, while every doubt was o'er, 
 
 The visionary dream derived from Heaven, 
 
 " And, though no science, fairly worth the seven."] 
 
PART 11.^ 
 
 It has pleased God in His great mercy to bring me to 
 my sixty-eighth birthday, and I am now writing in tliat 
 cottage in my native vilhige wliich was for some years 
 inhabited by my aunt, Mrs. Fretwell, opposite to the house 
 in wliich sixty-eight years ago I first drew breath, and 
 where for eighteen years this day was annually celebrated 
 as a day of rejoicing amongst friends and neighbors. All 
 the merry-makers of those days are novv^in the grave except 
 my aunt, Miss Hill, now in her eighty-sixth year, and my- 
 self, now well stricken in years ; and the house is empty 
 and desolate and falling into decay. It will be half a cen- 
 tury next April since we left it. 
 
 My marriage day, the IGtli of July, 1791, was one of 
 the most sorrowful of my life. The pang of parting from 
 my father and all my family had almost broken my heart. 
 But I was not of a morbid temperament ; youth and hope, 
 and affectionate confidence in my husband, soon reconciled 
 me to the separation. I was received by Mr. Fletcher's 
 circle of friends in Edinburgh with a warmth of hospitality 
 and kindness I had never before met with among strangers. 
 Each vied with the other who should show most kindness 
 to the young bride of their friend. An English stranger, 
 too, was at that time (nearly fifty years since) a novelty in 
 Edinburgh compared with what it is now. Our cii'cle was 
 not wide, or fashionable, or highly polished, but it was 
 intelligent and warm-hearted. 
 
 1 Our mother's contiinialion of her domestic memorials in her own hand- 
 writing is dated Oxtou Cottage, January 15th, 18^8. 
 
EARLY MARRIED LIFE. 63 
 
 [The following letter, preserved by our mother's early friend, 
 Mrs. Liiyeock, to whom it was addressed about a month after 
 her marria<fe and arrival in Edinl)urjfh, j^nvcs hii|)|)y testimony, 
 then and tlierc, to the cheering inlluences wliieh awaited her, 
 both in and out of her new home. It tells, too, what it was 
 in these which cheered her most — the true and kindly estima- 
 tion in which she found her husband held, and his tender con- 
 sideration for her, not only as a wife, but as a daughter. He 
 had never allowed himself to feel resentmejit for her father's 
 o])])(),sition to his suit, always admitting that, in so far as 
 worldly considerations went, it was natural and reasonable. 
 There can be no doubt that this generous forbearance in him 
 advanced his cause in her heart, making her the more steadfast 
 during the trying period of her engagement, and strengthening 
 her as to the riglitness of fullilling it. 
 
 To Mrs. Laycoch. 
 
 "Edinhukoh, AuguBi 1791. 
 " You have known me long enough to find out that my hopes 
 were always extremely sanguine ; yet believe me, I iiad formed 
 no conception of the happiness I have enjoyed, and continue to 
 enjoy, in the society of my husband ; nor could I have conceived 
 that tenderness was so ingenious, for he absolutely contrives to 
 be continually giving me new and additional x)roofs of his affec- 
 tion. In ad<lition to the atteliflons wliieli constitute my happi- 
 ness, I have the satisfaction of seeing his character universally 
 esteemed, and his talents universally respected. Without troub- 
 ling himself about the selection of society, he seems to be ac- 
 quainted with none but good people, for he has so nice a sense 
 of honor, and cares so little about any distinctions but those 
 which arise from character, that persons of unsound principles 
 must feel uiK^asy with him. The concern he feels on account of 
 my father's illness alfecls me very .sensibly. He is very sanguine 
 in the hope of some benefit arising from the prescrii)tions of the 
 Edinburgh physicians. I wish my friends at Tadcaster could 
 have seen the eagerness with which he convened the medical 
 men upon that occasion ; I wish it because I think it would 
 
64 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 
 
 have given thfm a better knowledge of his character than they 
 could receive from any other circumstance, especially the repre- 
 sentation of a wife." 
 
 Our mother's -written reminiscences thus go on to tell of two 
 persons among the friend-circle of her past years in Edinburgh, 
 who were indeed no common ones.] 
 
 Chance placed me in the neighborhood, in Hill Street, 
 of an Ayrshire family, the Fergussons of Monkwood ; ^ and 
 Miss Fergusson, the eldest daughter, became the earliest, as 
 she has always been the firmest and fondest, of my Edin- 
 burgh friends. Mrs. John Craig Millar, the young wife of 
 an advocate,* an intimate friend of my husband, soon fas- 
 cinated me with the brilliancy of her talents and the charms 
 of her conversation. She was the youngest daughter of 
 the celebrated Dr. Cullen. Her father's house was for 
 many years the resort of all the men of talent and literature 
 in Edinburgh, and of many women of rank and fashion. 
 David Hume, the historian ; Adam Smith, author of " The 
 "Wealth of Nations ; " Black, the celebrated chemist ; Henry 
 Mackenzie (often called, from his well-known book, " The 
 Man of Feeling"), were frequent visitors at Mrs. J. C. Mil- 
 lar's early home, at the foot of the Mint Close, Canongate, 
 where Dr. Cullen then lived ; and in their society his highly- 
 gifted family had acquired a taste for all that was intellec- 
 tual and refined. Mrs. Millar had singular quickness of parts, 
 with great sweetness of disposition and elegance of manners. 
 We became intimate friends, and our sympathy in the polit- 
 ical sentiments of our husbands was a great bond between 
 us. At this time, 1791 and 1792, the grand princi^^les of 
 the French Revolution occupied the thoughts and stirred 
 the jDassions of all thinking and feeling men. Mr. Fletcher 
 
 1 At Mr. Fergusson's house, where Walter Scott was intimate, my mother 
 often met him in her early married life; he did appear in the drawing-rouui 
 in those days, which very few did. 
 
 2 Eldest son of Professor Millar, of the Glasgow University, author of 
 some works of well-earned repute. 
 
EDINBURGH FRIENDS. - 65 
 
 was an ardent admirer of the first principles of that revolu- 
 tion. He loved liberty from an enlarged sense of philan- 
 thropy, not out of party spirit, but because he firmly believed 
 that a free government was the only means of promoting 
 national improvement and happiness. He had devoted the 
 last ten years of his life to obtaining for Scotland that 
 burgh reform which he conceived would lead to Parlia- 
 mentary reform, and to the emancipation of Scotland from 
 that vile system of irresponsible municipal government, and 
 Parliamentary corruption, which disgraced and depressed 
 it, and made it a by-word among its English neighbors. 
 This feeling was so strong in my husband's mind that it 
 might be called his master passion. I believe he would 
 have gone to the block in defence of his political principles 
 as cheerfully as any martyr that ever bled in that good 
 cause. But his sound judgment tempered his enthusiasm, 
 and prevented his ever doing any rash or foolish thing. 
 He never did that which he feared to avow. He was 
 solicited in the winter of 1792, by the celebrated Thomas 
 Muir, to join the Society of the " Friends of the People." 
 I remember Mr. Muir's calling on him one evening in Hill 
 Street, and I heard them at hjgh words in an adjoining room. 
 When his visitor went away, Mr. Fletcher told me that Muir 
 had quitted him much dissatisfied because he could not 
 persuade him to join the Society. Mr. Fletcher added — 
 " I believe him to be an honest enthusiast, but he is an 
 ill-judging man. These violent reformers will create such 
 an alarm in the country as must strengthen the Govern- 
 ment. The country is not prepared to second their views 
 of annual Parliaments and universal suffrage." 
 
 The country did become exceedingly alarmed, as he pre- 
 dicted, and the subsequent atrocities committed in France 
 by an unprincipled faction, — the worst enemies of liberty, 
 — produced such a horror (amongst the higher orders 
 
66 A UTO BIO GRAPHY. 
 
 especially) in Scotland, that every man was considered a 
 rebel in his heart who did not take a decided part in sup- 
 porting Tory measures of government. Mr. Fletcher, how- 
 ever, kept firm to his Whig principles. Though abstractedly 
 he admired Republicanism, and wished that form of govern- 
 ment to have fair play in America, he did not by any means 
 desire the subversion of the British Constitution at home. 
 He was a stanch reformer, not a revolutionist. At that 
 time, however, and for several years afterwards, such was 
 the terror of Liberal principles in Scotland that no man at 
 the Bar professing these could expect a fair share of prac- 
 tice. There being no juries in civil cases, it was supposed 
 that the judges would not decide in favor of any litigant 
 who employed Whig lawyers. Mr. Fletcher always treated 
 this opinion with scorn, as a foul calumny against the Scot- 
 tish judges, though he suffered under it, being told by some 
 sincere friends that under such an impression they dared 
 not employ him as their advocate. We were often at that 
 time reduced to our last guinea ; but such was my sympathy 
 in my husband's public feelings that I remember no period 
 in my married life happier than that, in which we suffered 
 for conscience' sake. 
 
 A great happiness occurred to us in the summer of 1792. 
 This was a visit from my dear father, my good aunt Daw- 
 son, and Mrs. Brndenell. That my father should come and 
 see with his own eyes how much my husband was honored 
 in his own place and country, and how happy I was in my 
 new relationship, had been the height of my hopes and 
 wishes. Soon, indeed, this happiness was increased by the 
 birth of my eldest son. Miles Angus Fletcher, which took 
 place on the 6th of September, 1792. In the following 
 spring we took our beautiful boy to cheer his grandfather 
 in Yorkshire, and after his weaning I left him there ; while 
 later in that year (1793) I accompanied Mr. Fletcher to 
 
VISIT TO RANNOCH. 67 
 
 pay his mother a visit at his early home among the " Braes 
 of Rannoch," after passing some weeks at the hospitable 
 house of Mr. Fletcher, of Dunans, in Argyleshire. 
 
 We proceeded from thence to Rannoch, in Perthshire, 
 where my mother-in-law lived with her second husband, Mr. 
 Macdiarmid, a true-bred Celt, who disdained to speak a word 
 of the Sasenach tongue, or to wear any dress but the phila- 
 beg and belted plaid. She was a devout and gentle-hearted 
 woman, refined by the purity and depth of her religious feel- 
 ings. She claimed hereditary descent from a certain re- 
 nowned Highland chieftain, M'Naughton, known as the 
 " Black Knight of Loch- Awe." He was hereditary keeper 
 of the King's castles before the Campbells had established 
 themselves in that district. But she allowed no pride in 
 this alliance with Highland chieftainship to make her for- 
 get her duty to God and her neighbor. The parish of 
 Rannoch was perhaps thirty miles in extent. On a Sunday 
 she used to convene her unlettered neighbors, the tacks- 
 men and the cotters' families, on the shady side of a hill, 
 and there translate aloud for them portions of the English 
 Bible into Gaelic. They came to her in all their troubles 
 and difficulties, for she was ju- woman of strong understand- 
 ing and admirable temper. She twice became the second 
 wife of men who had families by their first marriages. 
 She had six children by her first, and five, I think, by her 
 second husband; and these four families of children lived 
 under her maternal government in perfect harmony with 
 one another. She loved my husband, the eldest child of 
 her first marriage, with pride and fondness. She had be- 
 stowed all his little patrimony on his education, and from 
 the age of sixteen he had worked out his own honorable 
 independence, and had besides done much to help his 
 family. She had, at the time I first saw her, when be- 
 tween seventy and eighty, resigned all household cares to 
 
68 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 her widowed daughter-in-law, Mrs. John Macdiarmid, but 
 she was treated with respect and deference by all who ap- 
 proached her ; and, though living in a simple farm-house, 
 she and her old Celtic spouse (known by the name of Baron 
 Macdiarmid, an old patronymic of the Highlands, which 
 survived the possession of departed lands) dwelt in ease 
 and comfort, on an extensive sheep farm, then tenanted by 
 the widow of her son. 
 
 I had then never seen a state of society so primitive as 
 that at Rannoch. My husband and I were cherished guests 
 there, and it would have said little for my heart if I had not 
 loved and honored the good old lady who at once took me 
 into her warmest affections. 
 
 Soon after our return to Edinburgh from the Highland 
 visit, my good uncle, Mr. William Dawson, and my cousin, 
 Miss Dawson, of Wighill, brought us home our darling 
 boy. He jvalked stoutly, though but one year and a week 
 old. 
 
 In the spring of 1794 my father made us a present of 
 an excellent house in Queen Street, No. 20, and came 
 down himself in the summer with my aunt and Mrs. 
 Brudenell to spend a month or two with us. His little 
 grandson. Miles, was now able to talk to him ; and such 
 was his delight in looking on this child that I could not 
 find in my heart to refuse his request to take him along 
 with them when they left us. I think my dear father 
 enjoyed his second visit to Edinburgh even more than his 
 first. He saw me surrounded with many blessings. He 
 enjoyed the pleasant house he had given us to live in. 
 He received much respect and attention from all Mr. 
 Fletcher's friends. He saw that I had confided my happi- 
 ness to one most deserving. On leaving us, he and Mrs. 
 Brudenell took Miles with them to Tadcaster, and my 
 good aunt remained to be with me at my second confine- 
 
STATE TRIALS. 69 
 
 ment, whicli took place on the 31st of October 1794, when 
 my eldest daughter, Elizabeth, was born. 
 
 Not many days after her birth the newspapers were full 
 of the proceedings on the State trials in London — the trial 
 of Thomas Hardy and John Home Tooke, etc. etc., for 
 high treason — and the joyful news reached us that these 
 persecuted men were acquitted by a jury of their country- 
 men. Mr. Fletcher considered this verdict as the noblest 
 proof of the excellence of the British Constitution. Had 
 the juries of England truckled to the Tory Government of 
 the time, as those of Scotland had unhappily done in the 
 convictions of Muir, Joseph Gerald, Fysche Palmer, etc. 
 etc., he thought that Great Britain would not have been a 
 country for a free man to live in, because not one in which 
 a man could fearlessly avow his sentiments on political 
 subjects. This assertion of the right of private judgment 
 in matters of State policy being established by the glorious 
 acquittal of Hardy and Home Tooke, put hope and confi- 
 dence into the hearts of all true and honest reformers. 
 
 My husband read at my bedside the very interesting 
 details of these trials ; and so highly did I sympathize in 
 his delight that the excitement was followed by a sharp 
 attack of fever, and newspapers, juries' verdicts, and all 
 triumphs of Liberal opinions were for a time interdicted 
 to the lady in the straw, who had a somewhat tedious con- 
 finement. I was able, however, to suckle my lovely infant, 
 as I had done her elder brother, and this privilege was 
 amongst my most cherished maternal duties. I was a 
 good nurse in the true sense of the word, never denying 
 my infant its natural food, night or day when called for. 
 I never allowed any other occupation or amusement to 
 interfere with this first claim of duty. My child grew 
 and prospered, my home was happy. Political animosity 
 around us was increased by the bitter disappointment of 
 
70 AUTO BIO GRAPH Y. 
 
 the Tory party, but this never cooled the friendship be- 
 tween Miss Fergusson and me, and her gentle spirit was 
 often brave in defending me against the aspersions of politi- 
 cal rancor. 
 
 [It is hardly possible to credit now, save as having been 
 uttered in jest, the things gravely said and as gravely believed 
 at that time in Edinburgh concerning those who were generally 
 h'ld to be on the wrong side in politics. That our mother 
 had provided herself with a small guillotine, and exercised the 
 same in beheading poultry, or perhaps " rats and mice and such 
 suiall deer," in order to be expert when " French principles," 
 and practice in accordance, should prevail in our land, was one 
 of these. It reached our father's amazed and amused ears by 
 the question asked him in sad earnest by a kindly old Highland 
 clergyman (when in Edinburgh on the business of the General 
 Assembly), whether it was possible that a lady he so much 
 respected could be so " awfully misled "? We can well believe 
 that Miss Fergusson had often to defend her friend against 
 grievous aspersions in those days ; but this was not the only 
 service gratefully numbered as fruit of the intimate communion 
 which then and long afterwai'ds they enjoyed with one another. 
 It was from her, above all others, that our mother found the 
 sympathy she needed in those deep religious affections, which 
 were never warmer in her than in days of gladness, -^ from hor 
 that she most gained that living support to her Christian faith 
 and hope, to be had only from one whose friend-love, like all 
 the other blessed uses of her " charity," came " out of a pui-e 
 heart and a good conscience, and faith unfeigned." All our 
 mother's friends had something of a lover-like regard for her — 
 Miss Fergusson as much of this as any — for hers was a very 
 fervent as well as a veiy gentle nature. She abounded in natural, 
 genial sympathy ; she could, in no common sort, make all the 
 joys and the sorrows of iVii-nds her own ; but, as free from 
 vanity herself as she was free from selfishness, she never 
 dangerously ministered to the vanity even of those she admii'ed 
 most In later days, when our mother read those passages, 
 as true as they are beautiful, in which Jeremy Taylor gives his 
 sense of the quality and the uses of a "brave friend," it was 
 
HOME LIFE AND HAPPINESS. 71 
 
 to this first intimate neighbor of her wedded life that she always 
 specially applied them. As young children, we can all recol- 
 lect being not a little jealous of Miss Fergusson. She and our 
 mother used to have such earnest talks — often too long ones 
 we thought — with one another, at times when we had rather 
 have had the companion we loved best all to ourselves; but 
 very precious to us was that inherited love in after-days, as 
 precious as to her who counted it among her blessings to look 
 upon the growing and the matured friendship of her children 
 with one she so entirely loved and trusted.] 
 
 In the spring of 1795 our friends Mr. and Mrs. Millar 
 took their departure for America, banished thither by the 
 strong tide of Tory prejudice which ran so fiercely against 
 Mr. Millar. He had joined the Society of ." The Friends 
 of the People." He lost his professional employment, and 
 though a most able and hoftorable man, was so disgusted 
 with the state of public affairs in Scotland that he deter- 
 mined to seek peace and freedom in the United States of 
 America. I felt Mrs. Millar's departure as a great loss. In 
 two years she returned a widow, and our friendship continued 
 till her death. 
 
 In the summer of 1795 we, took our infant daughter to 
 see my father at Tadcaster,'^and stayed there till the winter 
 Session of that year brought us back to Edinburgh in 
 November. Our boy Miles seemed so essential to -my 
 father's comfort that we consented to let the child remain 
 with him for the winter months. Much occupied in my 
 home with nursery pleasures and hopes, and taking a' 
 strong interest m public events, my time passed on in 
 placid contentment. I had by no means an extensive 
 circle of acquaintance. 
 
 [At an after time, when our mother's circle was somewhat 
 large, we can all remember, even in the midst of nmch bright 
 enjoyment of society in Edinburgh, how often she would recall 
 with a loving memory this quiet home season of her early 
 
72 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 ■wedded life. It was, she used to say, her most bright, most 
 satisfied, and satisfying season. She looked back to it thank- 
 fully, as having been then -withheld from any large indulgence 
 in what she honestly called her "besetting sin," the love of 
 popularity, in the days when spirits fresh, unjaded by the 
 often toilsome claims of wide social intercourse,, are so specially 
 needed, and so dearly prized, round the heai'th of a young 
 mother's home. There she was indeed the light and the life 
 of our young IIa'cs. We knew that we were her joy, and we 
 felt that she was ours. But as all her care for us, constant 
 as it was, did not in the least interfere with a true wifely 
 sympathy in our dear father's public interests, so did neither 
 the one nor the other hinder her from taking to her heart and. 
 her providing thoughts, the case of any needing help who 
 might come within her reach. Of silver and gold she had 
 indeed very little to give in those days. We have often 
 thought since that this must have been to her a severe form 
 of self-restraint in the days when strict frugality was necessary 
 at home, for never was there a more cheerful bestower of what 
 she could justly spare, and largely did she give of that earnest 
 sympathy which in many cases is above all other help. She 
 had a friend during the period of her active Edinburgh life 
 who ought not to be passed over, although it is difficult some- 
 times to select from the many of all classes who came and 
 went as familiar helps about our Castle Street home. We 
 have a feeling that the person who then went among us by the 
 name of " Susan the Good " was very valuable to our mother, 
 and acted indirectly on the minds of her children, who were 
 often observant and silent listeners to the conversations which 
 took place between them. This friend lived in a very obscure 
 street not far off, and for the sake of supporting her mother 
 (a reduced Highland lady), and assisting in the education of 
 her sisters, exercised the craft of dressmaking, without tlie 
 skill to do it well. Her mind was occupied with great and 
 good subjects and objects, such as negro emancipation and the 
 relief of the poor and needy, while her fingers vainly attempted 
 to make a good fit. To this excellent person our motlier 
 always adhered as a dressmaker so long as it was necessary, 
 and their friendship lasted through hfe. Many were the 
 
BENEVOLENT INTERESTS. 73 
 
 interesting conversations listened to while the so-called fitting- 
 on proceeded. They were both gifted talkers in their different 
 ways, and both were impressed with the hopeful truth of the 
 power of good to overcome evil. This friend was especially 
 useful to our mother in enabling her to find employment for 
 the many unfortunate persons who came under her notice. It 
 was some years before this that she had been led to join in a 
 work then first entered on by a good man named Campbell,^ 
 for the purpose of reclaiming some of those poor women whose 
 fall from woman's virtue had made them outcasts in the 
 saddest sense. No home of shelter and kindly instruction 
 had then been formed for such in Edinburgh. The one then 
 opened was on a very humble scale, in an obscure close of the 
 Old Town leading from the Nether Bow, a place unknown by 
 sight to the present generation, having been swept away — 
 rightly, perhaps — in the course of modern improvements ; but 
 poor as the asylum was, it was carefully tended, and our 
 mother could long afterwards recall with comfort and hope 
 several cases in which the work effected there had been 
 manifestly blessed. One history, which occurred I believe early 
 in my mother's married life, we have heard her relate with 
 peculiar satisfaction and thankfulness, and ought to be recorded 
 in these memorials of her life. The name of this person was 
 Nelly Wilson. Our mother first saw her in one of her visits 
 to the Infirmary to see a "sick child. On her way out, she 
 was struck with the fine appearance of a young woman at the 
 door of one of the wards, dressed in a white wrapper, and she 
 asked the nurse who conducted her out what illness that young 
 person had. The nui'se shook her head, sajdng, " Oh, mem, 
 she's here for an ill cause; but she's better, and goes out to- 
 morrow, and back to her ill ways, nae doot." My mother 
 felt strongly impelled to speak to this unfortunate and erring 
 sister; and having requested the nurse to allow her to do so, 
 they were left together in a small empty ward. She spoke all 
 that was in her pure and loving heart on this sad subject, but 
 without appearing to make the least impression on her hearer. 
 
 1 John Campbell, ironmonger, foot of the West Bow, afterwards the Rev. 
 John Campbell of Kingslaud, London, and author of " Travels in South 
 Africa." 
 
74 A UTOBIO GEAPHY. 
 
 She said she was herself so strongly moved that she even went 
 down on her knees to Nelly Wilson, imploring her to renounce 
 her life of sin and degradation, and go into the asylum which 
 she told her of, where she might find employment and support; 
 but all in vain. On that day she made no impression,. at least 
 to her own perception : the proud, bold look never relented — 
 the manner, although not rude, remained quite hard. They 
 parted, and my mother lost sight of her of course. Some 
 months after this, late one evening, only a day or two before 
 a journey to Yorkshire, my mother was told a person wished 
 to see her. It was the nurse from the infirmary, who said 
 she had come by the earnest desire of Nelly Wilson, who was 
 again ill, and could not rest night or day without seeing the 
 " leddy " who had spoken, to her some months before ; and, 
 said the nurse, in her broad Scotch, "If you'll believe me, 
 ,mem, she's no' like the same cratur she was; her bolster 's wet 
 wi' her tears, and she'll do what you bid her noo." The 
 " leddy " went the following morning, and found Nelly Wilson 
 in a loathsome state of disease, but in a broken and contrite 
 state of mind — the stony heart had become a heart of Al-sIi, 
 and she listened with eagerness to the words of hope and 
 warning. The poor penitent gave her solemn promise that 
 she would henceforth renounce the life she now loathed, and 
 enter the asylum as soon as she could be admitted. She 
 faithfully kept her promise, and ever after led a life of faith 
 and obedience, and assisted others to enter the same course. 
 Many years after this occurred, Nelly Wilson became the 
 object of a virtuous attachment. A respectable tradesman 
 asked her in marriage, but she would not consent to become 
 his wife until she came to my mother to request her to relate 
 to her lover the whole history of her former life ; that after 
 knowing that, if he was still disposed to make her his wife, 
 she felt that she could make him happy, but that she set him 
 entirely free to do as he felt right. The man was deeply 
 affected, my mother said, but so touched by Nelly's fine sense 
 of honor and truthfulness, that he said he loved her more 
 than ever. They were married, and went to live in London, 
 where her husband had a profitable business, and where my 
 mother saw her a happy wife and mother more than once 
 
BIRTH OF SECOND DAUGHTER. 75 
 
 afterwards. This was one of the many incidents which made 
 her life in Edinburgh one of real missionary work, when it 
 might be supposed by those who saw her only in society that 
 that was her chief vocation. She was so little of an egotist, 
 that, except to those who were deeply interested in such 
 annals, she never introduced them; she could not abide a 
 half -interest in a soul-stirring subject, and the purity of her 
 own nature gave her an intense feeling of the degradation of 
 this form of vice, and indeed for all the fallen ; she felt that 
 Christ's followers were especially bound to hope, and pray, and 
 do " what they could."] 
 
 On the 23d of May [1796] my domestic interests were 
 increased by the birth of a second daughter, my dear Grace, 
 so named after my husband's excellent mother. My good 
 aunt Dawson ,on this, as on former confinements, came to 
 be with me on that occasion. My infant was singularly 
 thriving, and at the end of a fortnight I had perfectly 
 recovered from my confinement. In the autumn of that 
 year I took our two little girls to Tadcaster. We found 
 our dear Miles grown in size, strength and beauty, and 
 again left him to gladden the winter of the affectionate 
 circle at Tadcaster. He wa^ a child of quick parts, and 
 of ready combinations, with a warm temper and a very 
 affectionate heart. He was too much an object of con- 
 centrated attention in his grandfather's home, and used to 
 say, in after-life, that his temper never recovered the 
 spoiling of Tadcaster. I do not remember that the winter 
 of 1796-7 was marked by any particular event in our 
 domestic history. Of my two little girls, the eldest, an 
 uncommonly beautiful child, was of a hasty temper, but 
 truthful in a remarkable degree, and quick of apprehen- 
 sion. The second was less attractive in appearance, but 
 gentle, reflecting, and exceedingly affectionate and un- 
 selfish. Again we took them to my father's house in the 
 summer of 1797. He had begun to perceive that our boy 
 
76 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 
 
 Miles, then five years old, required more discipline than 
 he had resolution to enforce, and proposed that we should 
 take him back to Edinburgh with us. The parting scene 
 I never shall forget. The child shrieking and clinging to 
 his grandfather's knees, — the old man sobbing with grief, 
 and yet insisting that he should go, since it was for his 
 good. He was carried by main force to the carriage, an 
 unwilling prisoner in the custody of his parents, — his 
 heart knit to the friends he had left. The sorrows of a 
 child have been aptly compared to April showers, but this 
 sad scene mad-e me feel more than ever, the evil of being so 
 far separated from the home of my youth. 
 
 On the 8th of January, 1798, I was blessed with an- 
 other daughter. We called her Margaret, after our kind 
 and affectionate friend Mrs. Brudenell, with whom she be- 
 came an especial favorite, having, as she said, the dark 
 eyes of my mother. 
 
 It was in March, 1798, that I prevailed on several ladies 
 of my acquaintance to join me in the institution of a 
 Female Benefit Society in Edinburgh, and after much 
 difficulty and opposition this club was established for the 
 relief of maid-servants and other poor women in sickness. 
 Such institutions among men had long been in operation 
 in Scotland, but this was the first Female Benefit Society 
 attempted, and as all innovations at that time were looked 
 upon with suspicion, and especially where ladies suspected 
 of democratic principles were concerned, this poor " sick 
 club " was vehemently opposed by the constituted authori- 
 ties, — jiamely, the Deputy Sheriff" and the Magistrates, 
 when these were legally applied to, to sanction the rules 
 of the Society. I mention this to mark the spirit of the 
 time at that period in Edinburgh, both as regards politics, 
 and with regard to the condition of women. For ladies 
 to take any share, especially a leading share, in the 
 
BENEFIT SOCIETY. 77 
 
 management of a public institution, was considered so novel 
 and extraordinary a proceeding as ought not to be counte- 
 nanced. This " Female Friendly Society " has however been 
 in operation now in Edinburgh for forty-six years, the late 
 Miss Wilson (of Howden), my much valued friend, having 
 kept the accounts with such accuracy that it has been con- 
 sidered a model for other Societies of like kind to form 
 their rules upon, and to conduct their establishments. It 
 has by the blessing of God relieved much distress, and has 
 been the means of doing good to working people, mainly at 
 their own expense, thereby cultivating habits of forethought 
 and economy, as well as attention to good morals in other 
 respects. 
 
 In the autumn of 1798 we had distressing accounts of 
 my dear father's increasing infirmities, and Mr. Fletcher 
 and I resolved to take our little son Miles to see him. 
 Dropsical symptoms had begun to appear; his breathing 
 was much affected, but he was not too ill to be cheered by 
 our visit, and especially by the sight of his darling boy, 
 now six years old, and, for that age, most companionable. 
 "We remained till the middle of October, and the parting 
 was sad indeed, for it was^^thout the hope of meeting 
 again in this world. But our visit had soothed some 
 hours of languor, and had cherished warm feelings of affec- 
 tion. In less than a month after we parted, my dear father 
 was released from his sufferings. A man of more sterling 
 worth of character I have never known, or one of higher 
 principles of truth and honor. He had great natural quick- 
 ness of parts, a liberal heart, and a most happy temper, — 
 diffusing cheerfulness wherever he went. When he lost my 
 mother, his strongest affections became concentrated in me ; 
 and though nothing could exceed the happiness of my mar- 
 ried life, I often marvelled at myself for having left such a 
 father. 
 
78 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 [We can remember how, for many years after this bereave- 
 ment, our dear mother, on her birthday (though she always 
 tried to make it the bright hohday looked forward to by us) 
 used to take out some memorials of her old home and weep 
 over them. We did not, in those young child days, well under- 
 stand " why mamma always cried on her birthday morning." 
 We do quite understand it now.] 
 
 In the summer of 1799, during the vacation of the 
 Courts, Mr. Fletcher's health, as well as my own, seeming 
 to require change of air, we repaired with our children to 
 a very inexpensive cottage, in the Morningside district to 
 the south of Edinburgh, called " Egypt " (so named in 
 memory of a gipsy colony who, as tradition said, had made 
 their head-quarters in its immediate " whereabouts," by 
 virtue of a grant of land given to them there by one of 
 the Scottish kings). It was the first time that we could 
 afford ourselves the luxury of a country house, and we 
 enjoyed it greatly, seeing how much it promoted the health 
 and happiness of our children. Our friend Mrs. Millar 
 had by that time returned from America, a widow, with 
 all her hopes and prospects blighted. She came to visit 
 us at " Egypt," and interested us much by her animated 
 and graphic descriptions of America, and of men and 
 manners in the United States. She had often seen and 
 conversed with the greatest man of his age, — General 
 Washington, Philadelphia being then the seat of the Federal 
 Government. She described his demeanor as calm, mild, 
 and dignified, and his domestic character as excellent. I 
 should not omit to record that it was in the latter part of 
 this summer, when we were living very quietly at our 
 country house, that my dear friend Miss Fergusson, and 
 her very agreeable sister Ann, brought me to read, for the 
 first time, Wordsworth's " Lyrical Ballads." Never shall 
 I forget the charm I found in these poems. It was like 
 
WORDSWORTH'S POEMS. 79 
 
 a new era in my existence. They were in my waking 
 thoughts day and night. They had to me all the vivid 
 effects of the finest pictures, with the enchantment of the 
 sweetest music, and they did much to tranquillize and 
 strengthen my heart and mind, which bodily indisposition 
 had somewhat weakened. My favorites were the " Lines on 
 Tintern Abbey," the " Lines left on a Yew Tree at Esthwaite 
 Lake," " The Brothers," and " Old Michael," and I taught 
 my children to recite " We are Seven," and several others. 
 
 In September, 1799, Mr. Fletcher and I returned to 
 20 Queen Street, leaving our children under the care of 
 Miss Fletcher of Dunans. We were joined by dear aunt 
 Dawson, and our good friend Mrs. Brudenell, — the latter, 
 however, preferring to remain in the country with the 
 children. On the 6th of October I was confined of my 
 youngest son Angus, my aunt cheering and attending my 
 sick-bed, as she had affectionately done four times before 
 under the like circumstances. 
 
 Li the spring of 1801 I accompanied Mr. Fletcher to 
 London, leaving our children under the care of Miss Deas, 
 a respectable nursery-governes^, with a promise from my 
 kind and faithful friend IVIiss^ Wilson, that she would see 
 them daily, and report progress frequently. This, my 
 first expedition to London, was partly one of business, 
 partly of curiosity to see the great city. We were in 
 lodgings in. Albemarle Street, and made good use of our 
 time in seeing all the sights and the distinguished people 
 that were within our reach. It was then I first became 
 acquainted with Joanna Baillie and with Mrs. Barbauld. 
 Miss Millar (a kind friend then and always) introduced me 
 to the former; Lord Buchan gave me a letter to Mrs. 
 Barbauld. I was taken by Dr. and Mrs. Baillie to Hamp- 
 stead to see the gifted Joanna. I found her on a Sunday 
 morning reading the Bible to her mother, a very aged lady, 
 
80 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 "who was quite blind. Joanna's manners and accent were 
 very Scottish, very kind, simple, and unaiiected, but less 
 frank than those of her elder sister. She seemed almost 
 studiously to avoid literary conversation, but spoke with 
 much interest of old Scotch friends, and of her early days 
 in Scotland. I was much interested in her, having but a 
 short time before read her " Plays on the Passions " with 
 deep interest. 
 
 "With the brilliancy and power of Mrs. Barbauld's con- 
 versational talents my husband and I were greatly de- 
 lighted. She took the same views that we did on public 
 affairs, and had felt deeply, as we had done, disappointment 
 in the disastrous turn of the French Revolution. "We saw 
 Mr. Barbauld also, and thought him remarkably intelligent 
 and agreeable. We visited my quondam friend Mr. Woodi- 
 son, whose introduction to me in 1789 by our mutual friend 
 Mr. Cartwright I have already mentioned, and who still 
 honored me with his esteem and friendship. He lived in 
 a small house in Chancery Lane, where his mother had 
 lived for many years along with him, and where she had 
 died a short time before. Mr. Fletcher had at this time 
 some interviews with his political friend Mr. Sheridan, 
 whom, however, I did not see. 
 
 I well remember after the fatigues of sight-seeing the 
 pleasure and refreshment I had at our lodgings m reading 
 Miss Edgeworth's admirable novel, " Belinda," — some of 
 the hours so spent were among the pleasantest of our Lon- 
 don visit. We were happy to return to our home and to 
 our children, after j^assing a few days with our friends at 
 Tadcaster on our way. 
 
 In the October of this year, our dear Miles, then nine 
 years of age, went to the High School. I well remember 
 his bright, animated face, in returning home in the frosty 
 days of winter, without any great aspirations after scholar- 
 
HOME INTERESTS. 81 
 
 ship however, but exhilarated by the enjoyment of mixing 
 with many play-fellows. In the May of the year following 
 (1802) our home happiness was increased by the birth of 
 our youngest daughter, Mary. She was a beautiful infant, 
 with bright large eyes and curly brown hair. On the 
 fourth or fifth day after Mary was born, I became very 
 feverish and unwell : my milk left me, and rny distress in 
 not being able to nurse this dear infant, as I had nursed 
 my other children, was unreasonable. We procured a wet- 
 nurse, a respectable married woman, whose husband was at 
 sea; and when we. removed to Dalmeny for country air and 
 quiet, a month after my confinement, we had the nurse's 
 child lodged in the village that the mother might see it 
 daily, and feel satisfied that it was taken care of. My 
 dear aunt remained with us till I was quite strong, and 
 then took dear Bessy, our eldest daughter, back with her 
 to Tadcaster. Our summer at Dalmeny was a very 
 pleasant one, spent in a cottage, which was small and 
 homely, as suited our fortunes. After our eldest boy's 
 return to school to Edinburgh, Grace, Margaret, Angus, 
 and the infant Mary, formed otir little household; and it 
 was this summer, when Grac^-was the eldest of the young 
 party, that I observed her mind to take a spring of advance- 
 ment which quite surprised me. It was here, too, that I 
 observed good promise of strength in little Margaret's 
 character. Being one day hurt by a fall out of doors, she 
 came home, and, without alarming me, quietly put herself 
 to bed. When I looked for her, on hearing of the accident, 
 an hour afterwards, I found her fast asleep. She rose no 
 worse for the misadventure. 
 
 After a year's experience of the High School for our 
 
 dear Miles, we found that the dissipations of idleness in a 
 
 large companionship were too strong for his power of 
 
 resistance. Some misleading school friends, and some 
 
 4* p 
 
82 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 
 
 evasions of truth, made us decide before the close of this 
 year on removing him, to be placed under the private tuition 
 of a respectable clergyman, the Rev. William Thomson, at 
 the manse of Dalzell, near Hamilton. His new master had 
 not above six little boys to look after, and he performed his 
 duty conscientiously, so that we had reason to be satisfied 
 with the step we had taken. 
 
 The latter part of the year 1802 was interesting to us 
 in a public way by the commencement of the Edinburgh 
 Review. We were fortunate enough to be acquainted 
 more or less intimately with several of the earliest con- 
 tributors, Mr. (now Lord) Brougham, Mr. Jeffrey, Dr. John 
 Thomson, Mr. John Allen, J^ancis Horner, and James Gra- 
 hame, the author of " The Sabbath." James Grahame was 
 a much-valued friend. He united to a highly refined and 
 cultivated taste much general information, a very sincere 
 and elevated piety, and the greatest simplicity of man- 
 ners. I, who knew Edinburgh both before and after the 
 appearance of the Edinburgh Review, can bear witness 
 to the electrical effects of its publication on the public 
 mind, and to the large and good results in a political 
 sense that followed its circulation. The authorship of the 
 different articles was discussed at every dinner-table, and 
 I recollect a table-talk occurrence at our house which 
 must have belonged to this year. Mr. Fletcher, though 
 not himself given to scientific inquiry or interests, had been 
 so much struck with the logical and general ability dis- 
 played in an article of the young Review on Professor 
 Black's Chemistry, that in the midst of a few guests, of 
 whom Henry Brougham was one, he expressed an opinion 
 (while in entire ignorance as to the authorship) to the 
 effect that the man Avho wrote that article might do or be 
 anything he pleases. Mr. Brougham, who was seated near 
 me at table, stretched eagerly forward and said, " What, 
 
EDINBURGH SOCIETY. 83 
 
 Mr. Fletcher, be anything ? May he be Lord Chancellor ? " 
 On which my husband repeated his words with emphasis, 
 " Yes, Lord Chancellor, or anything he desires." This 
 opinion seems to confirm Lord Cockburn's words in another 
 place concerning the young Henry Brougham of the Specu- 
 lative Society, that he even then " scented his quarry from 
 afar." 
 
 James Grahame, the gentle poet of " The Sabbath," and 
 " The Birds of Scotland," was so susceptible of the tender 
 passion that he fell in love at first sight with a young lady 
 whom he saw first ringing at our door, then No. 20 Queen 
 Street. He came in a little afterwards, and asked me many 
 questions about the dark-eyed beauty, who, he said, had 
 cast the glamour " owre him." I invited him to meet her ; 
 she completed her conquest, and at the end of two months 
 they were married. It was about this time our excellent 
 friend Dr. Anderson brought Thomas Campbell to our 
 house, and a firm friendship between us was formed, which 
 stood the test of time and London, and fame, on his part 
 to the close of his life. I have often lectured him, and 
 made him angry, but he never wavered in his friendship. 
 Life at this time glided on^with us calmly and satisfac- 
 torily. My husband's professional emoluments, though very 
 moderate, were amply sufficient for us, combined with my 
 inheritance from my father's property which was left to 
 me in life-rent, and was entailed on our children. We had 
 no vanity to lead us into expense, our circle of acquaint- 
 ance was very limited, consisting chiefly of old profes- 
 sional friends of Mr. Fletcher, their wives and families, — 
 with occasional gleams of more literary and distinguished 
 persons. Of these was the Hon. Henry Erskine, whose 
 wit, and whose graces of mind and manners, placed him 
 at the head of good society in Edinburgh, while he was 
 confessedly the honored leader of the Liberal or Whig 
 
84 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 party. I do not remember to have had any stirrings of 
 worldly vanity or ambition. My delight in feeling that 
 my sympathy in my husband's public feelings contributed 
 much to his happiness, and my just pride in the lofty 
 integrity of his character, and the affectionate kindness of 
 his heart towards me and our children, formed my happi- 
 ness. These children, too, were my " mirth and matter." 
 I was wrapped up in them, — and though I never could 
 command the patience that qualified me to be their teacher, 
 I delighted in making them my happy and confidential 
 companions. I seldom required to use any other jiunish- 
 ment for their offences than exiling them from the sitting- 
 room, and they became very contrite in the nursery. My 
 principle of education was sympathy, and truthfulness in 
 my dealings with them. 
 
 In the spring of the year 1803 our kind friend Mrs. 
 Brudenell came to see us, accompanied by Mrs. Laycock. 
 We had great pleasure in showing them all that was worth 
 seeing in Edinburgh, and Mrs. Brudenell afterwards went 
 with Mr. Fletcher to see a small property in Stirlingshire 
 — Park Hall — which we wished to purchase. Their excur- 
 sion extended to the house of Mr. Stewart of Garth, in 
 Perthshire, where Mrs. Brudenell was delighted with the 
 beauties of Highland scenery, and with the kindness and 
 hospitality she met with. It was on her return home 
 after this visit to us, and while at the house of her old 
 friends Mr. and Mrs. Wilkie of Foulden, in Northumber- 
 land, that I received alarming accounts from Mrs. Wilkie of 
 Mrs. Brudenell's dangerous illness. I should immediately 
 have gone to my kind old friend, but at that very time 
 our eldest little girl was taken ill of fever, — so ill that I 
 could not leave home. I thought it a hard trial, but it was 
 afterwards matter of thankfulness to me that I could not 
 be suspected of having influenced Mrs. Brudenell's mind 
 
3IES. BRUDENELL. 85 
 
 in the disposition of her affairs at that time. It was 
 when she was alone in a sick-chamber, at a distance from 
 us, that she reflected how she owed all the happiness and 
 protection she had sought since her separation from her 
 husband to my father and his family; that she had no 
 connections by her father's side, and that her mother's 
 relations had never shown her any affectionate considera- 
 tion or regard. It was from the force of these reflections, 
 operating on a grateful heart, that she determined to leave 
 the bulk of her fortune to the daughter of her earliest and 
 dearest friend, my mother, and to testify her gratitude to 
 my father for all his kindness. I believe that her affection 
 for me personally was very great, but I always thought that 
 it was as my father's and mother's child she left me her 
 estate at Hebburn. She happily recovered from this ill- 
 ness, and the nest summer she and my uncle and aunt 
 brought our dear Miles (who had then been placed at school 
 at Thorp Arch, near Tadcaster) to spend the midsummer 
 holidays with us. We had then (June, 1804) removed 
 from Queen Street to No. 51 North Castle Street, for the 
 sake of additional house-room,' and a larger back green 
 as a playground for the children. For their home instruc- 
 tion I had then engaged a governess, Miss R , strongly 
 
 recommended to me by Mrs. Elizabeth Hamilton, who 
 about this time established herself in Edinburgh. I was 
 inti'oduced to her by our friend Hector Macneil,' and 
 soon found in her a warmly attached friend. She was a 
 woman of liberal mind, with much cultivation, with very 
 considerable liveliness and quickness of apprehension, with 
 great kindness of heart. 
 
 In the same summer, and before they left us, Mrs. 
 Brudenell heard of the death of her most unworthy hus- 
 
 1 Author of the well-known ballad, " Scotland's Skaith," a poem worthy 
 of all circulation, and of some other poems of merit. 
 
86 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 band. She put on no mourning, she affected no grief, but 
 she was greatly agitated, and deeply concerned to know 
 that his last illness had given him time for reflection, in 
 the hope that at the eleventh hour he had been enabled to 
 make his peace with God. By his death she became pos- 
 sessed of her hereditary estate of Hebburn, in Northum- 
 berland; and, at her earnest desire, Mr. Fletcher and I 
 accompanied her to take possession of it. I think one of 
 the most melancholy days of my life was that on which I 
 accompanied this once gay and light-hearted woman to the 
 hills and ruined castle of her ancestors (the charter of the 
 estate had been granted to them in the time of King John). 
 She who in her youth had bounded over those fields the 
 heiress of a fair domain, full of life, hope, and promise, 
 now, at the age of 66, came back a shattered, feeble old 
 woman, — without strength or spirit to enjoy the goods of 
 fortune. She felt this incapacity of enjoyment with an 
 intensity proportioned to the exquisite pleasure she would 
 have had in being able to exercise hospitality, and to 
 spread cheerfulness around her. Now she felt that it was 
 all she could do to prolong a feeble existence. With 
 this view she determined on spending the following 
 winter at Bath, in the hope that a southern climate might 
 do her good. 
 
 In the winters of 1805 and 1806 I had much agreeable 
 intercourse with Mrs. Elizabeth Hamilton, at whose house 
 I met with a greater variety of people than I had yet mixed 
 with. She did much to clear my reputation from the polit- 
 ical prejudice which had, during the first ten years pf my 
 life in Edinburgh, attached to all who wei-e not of the Pitt 
 and Dundas faction there. She had good success in per- 
 suading her friends that Mrs. Fletcher was not the ferocious 
 Democrat she had been represented, and that she neither 
 had the model of a guillotine in her possession nor carried 
 a dagger under her cloak. 
 
PUBLIC AND PRIVATE GOOD. 87 
 
 In January, 1806, Mr. Pitt died. It was said that the 
 battle of Austerlitz killed him. Mr. Fox was " sent for " 
 to form a ministry. His healtli had become infirm, but he 
 accepted the foreign department, with two purposes very 
 near his heart, — to make peace with France, and to abolish 
 the slave-trade. He tried to accomj)lish the first of these 
 objects by sending Lord Lauderdale to Paris to treat for 
 peace ; but the terms insisted on by Napoleon were such 
 as could not be granted without loss of national honor to 
 England. The ambassador was recalled, and all parties 
 were united in prosecuting the war, confident that a Whig 
 Cabinet would take the first opportunity of bringing it to 
 an honorable conclusion. The second great object of Mr. 
 Fox was most hapjiily accomjalished, — the abolition of the 
 slave-trade. Mr. Wilberforce had labored in Parliament, 
 and Mr. Clarkson out of it, with untiring perseverance to 
 accomplish this great measure ; but even with Mr. Pitt's 
 professed approval of the principle of abolition, the Royal 
 Family and Mr. Dundas had overruled the Premier on 
 that one point. It was reserved for the Whig Administra- 
 tion of 1806-7 to have the glory and the happiness of put- 
 ting an end to the British tr^dfe in slaves. 
 
 In the summer of 1806, Mrs. Brudenell, always, even in 
 her days of poverty, a " deviser of liberal things," carried 
 out a long-cherished purpose of bringing together the 
 friends for whom love and gratitude were warmest in her 
 heart, to spend a few months round her in the district of 
 England's mountain beauty. She engaged a house of ample 
 size — Belmont, near Hawkshead, in Westmoreland — to 
 which we from Edinburgh rei^aired early in June, Mrs. 
 Brudenell joining us from Bath also very soon after, and 
 Mr. Fletcher when the rising of the Law Courts in Edin- 
 burgh set him free. The good uncle and aunt Dawson, 
 from Tadcaster, came to us, with Miles in their company, as 
 soon as his midsummer holidays began. 
 
88 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 [To our deal" mother and to us this was indeed a summer 
 of new, bright, and busy enjoyment. "It was," as she has 
 written, " the first time that my children expressed any great 
 pleasure in natural beauty. They had what they called a cave 
 in a bit of ro«ky copse-wood behind the house, where they 
 
 carried on all manner of rural devices when Miss R ''s stern 
 
 school hours were over." Our mother understood too well 
 the true child way of being happy to disturb our pleasiii'es 
 near the home doors, by expecting us to delight as she did in 
 the wider scenes beyond. A large Juljf sheep-shearing held at 
 the Yew Tree Farm, a statesman's dwelling near at hand, was 
 however a pleasure quite as much to her taste as to ours. We 
 had our family picnics too, now and then to Coniston on the 
 one side and to Windermere on the other, and to a little tarn 
 which lay between Belmont and the latter, where we first saw 
 the water-lily, and also the yellow poppy growing wild on its 
 shore. But generally we were better pleased to keep to our 
 devices about the cave, sure of our mother's abundant sympathy 
 in them always, — and of her bright company often, at the little 
 fruit feasts we used to get up there, or in a stone-built summer- 
 house of the old-fashioned kitchen and orchard garden, which 
 last made no small part of this summer's felicity to us. Her 
 eldest boy Miles was always ready to mount a white pony pre- 
 sented to him here, and called " Belmont " in honor of these 
 happy holidays, and to canter off in any direction along with 
 her for riding's sake. Our mother possessed no proper lady's 
 palfrey either then or at any time of her wedded life, but she 
 had nowise lost her early counvage and skill on horseback. It 
 was a delight to her to return to the favorite exercise of her 
 youth, and, quite indifferent to appeai*ances, she mounted any 
 available steed that was to be found at the near farms, — the 
 variety and quality of her stud giving no small amusement to 
 the neighbors whom in her day's ride she visited. Of these 
 the nearest were the Harden family at Brathay Hall on 
 Windermere side, friends whose kind intimacy we have all in- 
 herited. Mr. Harden, a true lover of nature, and well accom- 
 plished as an amateur artist, was attractive to neighbors of 
 all ranks and ages from the genuine and genial kindliness 
 of his nature. Mr. Lloyd and his family then lived at Old 
 
WORDSWORTH. 89 
 
 Brathay, also near us. Charles Lloyd was known beyond the 
 Lake district as the author of some sonnets of poetic worth, and 
 he was much beloved in and about his home from the gentle 
 social qualities so fully inherited by and so dearly prized in 
 his son Owen.^ A little more distant lay the abode of Dr. 
 Watson, then Bishop of Llandaff, but who still made Calgarth 
 on Windermere side his ordinary residence with his family. 
 Lower down the lake, Fellfoot, then the property of Mr. Dixon, 
 was a house of much social resort, and always, as our mother 
 found, of pleasant intercourse, — Mrs. Dixon having an intelli- 
 gent taste for bringing round her persons by cultivation, or 
 pursuits, companionable to her and to one another. Our 
 mother had always much to tell us on her return from the 
 boating parties or indoor hospitalities of Fellfoot. Words- 
 worth's dwelling in Grasmere was somewhat too distant for 
 frequent intercourse; but an introduction to him was no com- 
 mon event, and a day's visit from him at Belmont was among 
 the very "white days" of this pleasant time. Our mother 
 had, as she has herself told, led us all to share with her, so far 
 as might be, in the good and the enjoyment of his verse. 
 She used to record with pleasure that her younger son, Angus, 
 not then above six years old, marked his interest in the poet's 
 deep, sonorous recitation of his " Lines to the Spade of a 
 Friend," by coming close to lyjr^ear, and saying, in an earnest 
 whisper, "Do ask him to say it again." Wordsworth's im- 
 pressive " Lines on the Expected Death of Fox," which belong 
 to this summer, show that one subject of very deep interest 
 common to him, and to both our parents, would not then have 
 been wanting to the increase of intimacy if their neighbor- 
 hood had been nearer. We can all remember the saddening 
 effect, on our dear father especially, when the tidings came 
 that Fox was indeed gone, and at the vei-y time when his 
 country seemed to need him most. His " public passion " (an 
 expression our father often used in speaking of him) had, in 
 the feelings of those to whom his name had long been the 
 
 1 Afterwards the pastor of Langdale, early taken thence by illness and 
 death, but still well and affectionately remembered. His remains, brought 
 to Langdale from the place — at some distance — where he died, rest under 
 a yew-tree in the churchyard of the vale. 
 
90 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 
 
 symbol of enlightened patriotism, redeemed in some degree tlie 
 errors of liis private life. Our mother has, in writing of his 
 death, truly said — " The warm generosity of his heart, and the 
 genial sweetness of his temper, left him without one private 
 enemy." A few days after his death, she adds — "We dined 
 at Calgarth (the Bishop of Llandaff's), when he, who had been 
 the personal friend of Fox, on drinking to his memory, after 
 dinner, pronounced a very true and eloquent eulogium on his 
 character." 
 
 Of another neighbor of this summer — an object of warm 
 interest to her for many after-years — our mother thus writes: 
 '' It was then I first became acquainted with Mrs. Smith of 
 Coniston. She visited me in compliance with her daughter 
 Mrs. Allan's request, but under the impression that she would 
 find me a violent Democrat, and distasteful accordingly. 
 However, it so happened that, bating the Democracy, we 
 became great friends. She loved me in spite of my politics, 
 and I both admired and loved her for the high principles of 
 rectitude and honor which had supported her through many 
 trials ; while the gracefulness of her manners, and the spirit 
 and vivacity of her conversation, were most engaging to me. 
 She lost her daughter, Elizabeth Smith, this summer. We 
 were engaged to pass some morning hours with them ^ the 
 very week before her death ; but she became worse, and the 
 visit was deferred. Elizabeth Smith died, and when we heard 
 from Hawkshead church-tower the sound of her death-bell, 
 we regretted that we had not seen one who seemed to have 
 lived so much with God."] 
 
 Mrs. Brudenell remained some weeks at Belmont after 
 my uncle and aunt left us. We accompanied her (on her 
 way to rejoin them) as far as the town of Settle, and there 
 
 1 The residence of Mrs. Smith at the time mentioned above was a small 
 cottage by the road-side, near the gate of Tent Lodse, her well-known home 
 in after years, on the banks of Coniston Lake. It was built soon after 
 Elizabeth Smith's death, on a spot greatly delighted in by her, and where a 
 tent had been pitched during her illness, in which was often her morning sit- 
 ting-room, commanding (as the house raised " in memoriani " now does) cue 
 of the tinest views in the Lake district. 
 
MRS. BRUDENELL. 91 
 
 I parted for the last time with my mother's earliest friend, 
 and one who certainly had a considerable influence in the 
 formation of my character. She had a high moral stand- 
 ard; and though there were many inconsistencies in her 
 character, the generosity of her heart and the truthfulness 
 of her gratitude were the prominent qualities that made an 
 impression on me. She was full of sympathy, a most en- 
 gaging quality to the young. She cultivated my taste for 
 reading, as well as taught me to read in her little cottage 
 at Oxton; and her sensibilities did not evaporate in senti- 
 ment. She was a kindly friend to the poor, and by example 
 impressed upon me early the force of a very favorite passage 
 of hers from Beattie's " Minstrel " — 
 
 " And from the prayer of want, and plaint of woe, 
 Oh! never, never turn away thine ear; 
 Forlorn in this bleak wilderness below, 
 
 Oh! what were man should Heaven refuse to hear! " 
 
 We all returned to Edinburgh in the October of this 
 year, and Mrs. Brudenell died at Tadcaster in the Decem- 
 ber following. My uncle and aunt followed her remains to 
 Hougliaui Church, in Lincolnshire, where she was buried 
 in the chancel, between the' graves of her two children, 
 according to her expressed desire. She left me her family 
 estate of Hebburn, subject to the debts and legacies speci- 
 fied in her will. This was a considerable accession of for- 
 tune, at a time when the education of our children made 
 such increase important. 
 
 \_Aunt Mary HilVs Wise Views on Education. 
 
 " Grange, October, 1807. 
 
 " My dear Niece, — I am very glad that you intend Grace 
 
 should have her full swing (excuse the vulgarism) in reading. 
 
 I know a very superior woman who laments to this day the 
 
 starvation her mind underwent from the person under whose 
 
92 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 care she was placed, being possessed by the ill-founded preju- 
 dice that a literary turn tends to give a disrelish for domestic 
 duties. 
 
 " Grace has interested us all very much with her account 
 of Angus and Mary's little cave, and the full enjoyment they 
 
 found in it. I wish you could convince Miss R , and all 
 
 the friends to artificial and premature instruction, that one 
 hour in this cave, employed in their own way, will strengthen 
 their faculties and invigorate their minds more than twenty 
 lessons. These good folks never consider that when the 
 faculties of children are exercised with most pleasure to them- 
 selves, they are receiving their best lessons, and that God Him- 
 self is their teacher."] 
 
 Our winter of this year was unmarked by any domestic 
 event except Miles's entrance on the classes of the Edin- 
 burgh College. My daughters went on with their school- 
 room education under Misg R 's tuition. And here I 
 
 must enter my protest against any one's continuing to 
 tolerate such faults in a governess as may interfere with 
 
 the happiness of children. Miss R was truthful, pious, 
 
 considerate of the poor, and very industrious ; but she had 
 a sternness and want of sympathy, a harshness of nature 
 which made the school-room irksome, and which was alike 
 unfavorable to the temper and to the happiness of the 
 children. It was a great mistake to inflict on them this 
 unnecessary discipline, and I have often bitterly regretted 
 it. It was my custom then (not a very common one 
 with Edinburgh ladies) to walk with the children before 
 breakfast, they taking their little tins to get milk at a 
 dairy-woman's field on the Queensferry Road. I liked to 
 cultivate in them an early taste for simple habits and 
 simple pleasures. These morning walks in spring were an 
 emancipation from school-room rigidity, which they and I 
 enjoyed together exceedingly. 
 
 In the summer and autumn of this year we all spent 
 
LORD TANKERVILLE. 93 
 
 some months at Hebburn. Our kind old friend Miss 
 Forster exerted herself to get the house there furnished for 
 our use ; and though it was small — little more, indeed, 
 than a shooting lodge, built by Mr. Brudenell for his own 
 use, and therefore by no means convenient for a large 
 family — these months were spent by us very happily. 
 Two Shetland ponies of small dimensions, whose arrival 
 was a great event amongst us, gave our younger children 
 their first experiences on horseback, and I often availed 
 myself of Miss Forster's kindness by trotting over to her 
 house at Bolton, a few miles distant, on the horse and 
 pillion which she sent for me. Old Lord Tankerville spent 
 that summer, as his wont was, at his baronial residence, 
 Chillingham Castle, not far off, and, with his daughter, 
 Lady Mary Bennet, had the courtesy to call upon us, and 
 to invite Mr. Fletcher and me frequently to dinner. He 
 was a fine specimen of the old English aristocrat, punc- 
 tilious in the observance of courteous manners, strong in 
 his regard for constitutional Whig principles. With this 
 bond between them, Mr. Fletcher and he became good 
 friends. He had that summei*,, for the first time, overcome 
 a strong reluctance to the jmarriage of his eldest son, so as 
 to receive Lord Ossulston and his beautiful young wife at 
 Chillingham Castle. This was done at the dying request 
 of a favorite daughter ; and his heart was softened and 
 his happiness increased by it. He told me that he had 
 disapproved of his son's marriage, not because his wife was 
 a foreigner and without fortune, but because she had been 
 educated amidst all the dissipation of Devonshire House, 
 which he feared might make the union fatal to his son's 
 happiness/ Another baronial Castle — that of Alnwick — 
 
 1 This Earl of Tankerville purchased in the year 1807 the estate of Heb- 
 burn, which adjoined his own estate of Chillingham, and added the wild 
 part of Hebburn to his range for the celebrated white cattle. 
 
94 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 we were introduced to this summer, by Mr. Burrell of 
 Broom Park.-^ It was worth seeing for once the stately 
 remains of ancient hospitality at the Castle of the Percys. 
 At that time, when the Duke of Northumberland was 
 present there, a flag was every Thursday unfurled on its 
 highest tower, as an invitation to any who had been pre- 
 viously introduced to come and dine there. The gentry 
 of the county did not slight this invitation. About forty 
 guests sat down to table on the day we dined there. On 
 entering the dining-room, Miss Forster pointed to me 
 where I should sit — next to a vacant space. The old 
 Duke was presently wheeled into the room, and his chair 
 filled that space ; so I had much of his discourse during 
 dinner : it was lively, courteous, and good-humored. He 
 spoke, but not tediously, of his infirmity from gout ; he 
 had tried, he said, every remedy for it, as he believed, 
 except one, which, in the case of a friend of his, proved 
 efficacious, viz., the bastinado. This had been applied 
 to his friend when travelling in Turkey, and disabled by 
 gout from descending from his palanquin to pay the re- 
 quired homage to the Grand Vizier, and it actually cured 
 him ! 
 
 [The Hebburn summer had by no means the charm that 
 belonged to our Westmoreland sojourn of the year before ; but 
 it was a happy one, as our mother has said (for country life 
 was in itself enjoyment), and for us children it had its bright 
 days of adventure, too, out of the common course, one especially 
 — an expedition taken in a cart, M'ith well-filled provision 
 baskets for the day, the elders of the family party riding on 
 horseback along by our side, all save aunt Dawson, who jolted 
 along amongst us, leading the tune and words of the " Jolly 
 Beggars " and other old ditties, given forth in full, if not 
 
 1 A sister of Miss Forster, and, like her, one of our mother's early school- 
 fellows at the Manor, York, was the wife of this gentleman. 
 
VISIT TO BAMBOROUGII CASTLE AND CONVENT. 95 
 
 harmonious, chorus by all round her, to beguile the long 
 morning's journey to Bamborough Castle. Our first sight of 
 this fine old place when we reached it — the flash of the blue 
 sea, and the rush of its white foam as the waves broke on the 
 rocks under the Castle at full tide, and the long stretch of white 
 sand and shingle which, at its ebb, lay between Bamborough 
 and Liudisfarne, " The Holy Isle " of St. Cuthbert, — are not 
 forgotten by us now; the less so, that the memories of this day 
 as to scenery were richly brought back a few years afterwards 
 by the vigorous poetic pictures of Scott in the finest canto of 
 his " Marmion." 
 
 In another excursion, one more soberly conducted, we also 
 accompanied our parents to Haggerston Hall, then occupied 
 as a nunnery, having been granted as a house of refuge by Sir 
 Carnaby Haggerston, an ancient Baronet "of that ilk," to 
 some French nuns who had been dragged from their convent, 
 and for some time imprisoned in Paris during the Reign of 
 Terror. They told us, but with no bitterness, simply as a 
 matter of history, that it was only the death of Robespierre 
 that saved them from being victims of the guillotine them- 
 selves. After their arrival in England, and their establish- 
 ment at the place were we found them, a Highland cousin 
 of our father, one of the Miss Fletchers of Dunans, had taken 
 the vows and joined their comjtjunity. She was permitted by 
 the Abbess mother to see her lunsman and give kindly welcome 
 to our mother and us for his sake. Sue had preserved a token 
 of him (whether of familiar kindness or something tenderer we 
 know not) — a Latin motto in praise of friendsliip — which, as 
 she reminded him, he had given to her when they met last, 
 or rather parted, after crossing a burn (for she noted the time 
 and place) near her father's house. There was no reserve 
 in showing this to him, which she drew forth from an em- 
 broidered pocket-book, and we thought the sisters looked on 
 very benevolently as she did so. We often recalled this 
 visit to our Catholic cousin and the good sisterhood with 
 pleasure. 
 
 Of other matters at Hebburn, and other interests in which 
 our dear mother led us cordially to share, the following letter 
 to a much valued friend speaks in her own words: — 
 
96 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 To Mrs. Stark. 
 
 " HliHIfUKN lIoUSK, NKAR BKI.FOItn, 
 
 NdHTiiUMUKKLANi), July 2C>lli, 1807. 
 " The kind wish you cxprossorl to hear from me, my dear Mrs. 
 Stark, was too gratifying to be for a single day forgotten, 
 although a fortnight has passed away since we arrived here. 
 I wished, however, to be able to tell you how we liked our 
 dwelling and all its accompaniments. Fate (as if to punish 
 me for coveting your sequestered cottage) has placed us in a 
 house at the sunnnit of a bleak, bare hill. It was built by the 
 late Mr. Brudeuell, who pulled down an old baronial castle 
 which ' tinui had spared,' and fixed upon precisely the only 
 part of the estate which affords a prospect utterly devoid of 
 pictures(iue beauty. The Cheviot Hills form our boundary to 
 the soutli-west, and we hope it is no treason against the Epic 
 Muse, if we rejoice that this far-famed scene of martial prowess 
 is now covered with bleating flocks and peaceful shepiierds. 
 The peasantry of this country are not less simple, though they 
 are far less independent, than those of Westmoreland : we 
 have none of that erect deportment and that proud civility 
 we used to meet with in our wanderings last summer when we 
 were obliged to ask permission of the .statesmen (ploughing their 
 own fields) to walk through them. Here properly is in llio 
 hands of the few rich. The country is thinly inhabited; the 
 farms are extensive; and the cotter's hold of the farmer (not 
 the proprietor) is a sort of feudal heritage. His cottage, cows, 
 grass, potato crop, and some bolls of corn, are given him in 
 exchange for his labor. His wife, or some one mem])er of the 
 family, is obliged to work at fixed wages for the fanner the 
 year rountl. This is called loorking l)on<l(i(/e, and it is felt as 
 a great grievance by the people; but it is an ancient custom in 
 Nortluunberlaud, and though attended with personal grudging 
 and private feelings of oppression, which never fail to Imrt the 
 character, it secures the cottager's family a maintenance, and 
 there seems to be little abject jioverty or wretchedness in our 
 villages. The village of Hebburn is a short mile from us. 
 There has not been a school there in the memory of man. 
 Last Sunday we assembled about twenty children in the remains 
 
Mil. JtOSCOE, LIVKIU'OOL. 97 
 
 of th(! old ciiHtld, roiul ii little; !ii)|ir()|)ri;ito juldrcss to tliciii, and 
 prcv!ul(Ml oil th«Ma to accoiripiuiy us to church, ahout a mile 
 distant from the village. They had nevcfr been in any place 
 of worship. Tlmir parents were chiefly Dissenters, and their 
 chapels and tabernacles were many miles distant, too far for the 
 children to travel barefooted; so they were suffered to run 
 wild on Sunday. I was mucli jJeased with the li})er;ility of 
 the parents; there was no l)ii^()try amonj^ them, for, thouj^h of 
 many different pcu-suasions, thiiy all willinjfly sent their chil- 
 dren to accompany us to the nearest ytlace of worshij). I'he 
 children on their part were delighted ; most of tlicm could 
 read ; and w(! agreed that 'the Sermon on the Mount' was 
 good for us Jill. Y^ou would have been pleased, my dear Mrs. 
 Stark, to have seen how earnestly my children took a part in 
 this int(!resting project. Mucli did I wish for three or four 
 whom 1 could name to have enjoyed it with us, and, b(,'lievo 
 me, you were among the number. You [)erceive that, notwith- 
 standing the bleak, bare hill, wt; shall contrive to be very 
 happy. You will not, I am sure, refuse your contribution to 
 make us so; do let me hear from you."] 
 
 From Tad(rast('-r, in thci coui'so of tho summer IHOH, our 
 eldest girl, Bessy, and I went to Visit an old friend — M iss 
 Kennedy — in the neighborh,0ed of Manchester, and she 
 made us acriuainted with the family of Mr. Greg at Quarry 
 ]^ank. We stayed a week with them, and admired the 
 cultivation of mind and refinement of manners which Mrs. 
 Greg preserved in the midst of a money-making and some- 
 what unpolished community of merchants and manufaftturers. 
 Mr. Grog, too, was most gcsnthimanly and hospitabh;, and 
 HuiT()uud(!d by eleven clevfjr and w(!ll-educated (ihildi'cii. 
 I thought tlicm the hai)piest iamily group I had ever siseii. 
 Miss K«!nn(:dy also took me to visit \wx friends, the Rath- 
 bone family, at Gi'cen liank, near Liverpool, and we there 
 met Mr. Roscoc, the elegant-minded author of the " Life of 
 Lorenzo de' Medici." Mr. Roscoe took us to his beautiful 
 
98 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 
 
 residence at Ollerton Hall, and charmed us by the good taste • 
 of his varied and agreeable powers of conversation. He 
 had been returned member for Liverpool during the Whig 
 Ministry of 180G, and both he and Mr. Rathbone had taken a 
 decided part in the cause of the abolition of the slave-trade. 
 We were taken to see the last ship which had sailed from the 
 port of Liverpool for trade in human beings. It was then 
 undergoing a change for the stowage of other goods than 
 those wretched negroes who had formerly been crammed 
 in the space between-decks not more than four feet high. 
 The iron hooks remained to which they had been chained. 
 It was a sickening sight, — but those chains were broken. 
 We stayed some days at Green Bank, where we enjoyed the 
 society of the venerable William Rathbone, the zealous 
 friend of civil and religious liberty. It was he, and Mr. 
 Roscoe, and Dr. Currie, who by their personal influence 
 and exertions established the first literary and philosoj^hical 
 society at Liverpool, and induced their fellow-townsmen to 
 think and feel that there were other objects besides making 
 money which ought to occupy the time and thoughts of rea- 
 sonable beings. 
 
 For the summer of 1810 we took a pleasant country house, 
 Frankfield by name, about a mile above Lasswade, on the 
 banks of the Esk, where our eldest daughter, with the 
 three younger children and I, repaired early in the spring, 
 Mr. Fletcher joining us at the end of each week before the 
 Courts rose to have his Sunday rest among us. It was 
 here that Mr. and Mrs. Simond and Miss Wilkes, afterwards 
 Mrs. Jeffrey, first visited us, introduced by Mrs. Craig 
 Millar. Mr. Simond was a grave, misanthropic Frenchman, 
 who had emigrated to America during the stirring period 
 of the French Revolution. He was a man of refined and 
 literary taste, became a merchant at New York, and mar- 
 ried there a lively and agreeable woman, Miss Wilkes, a 
 
FRANKFIELD AND THE ESK. 99 
 
 niece of tlie celebrated John Wilkes, the agitator of the 
 early part of George the Third's reign. 
 
 In the autumn of that year I well remember our watch- 
 ing o)ie fine evening the expected arrival of our dear 
 Miles and Grace from Yorkshire, and I could even now 
 fancy I see their light active steps on the wooden 
 bridge that crossed the Esk near to our garden gate at 
 Frankfield. It was a happy meeting, and our Grace, 
 whose love of home and love of nature partook of the 
 poetical enthusiasm of her character, often mentioned it 
 as one of the brightest spots in her happy life. She 
 found her sister Margaret, then twelve years old, much 
 advanced in companionable qualities, their tastes and pur- 
 suits were similar, and her little sister Mary had all the 
 beauty and the shyness of a most interesting chiM, the 
 plaything of the family. The peculiar reserve of Bessy's 
 character made me think that she would benefit by being 
 thrown among strangers, and it was at this time fixed 
 that she should go and spend some months with Mrs. 
 Barbauld, where a new view of society, and the great 
 advantage of living with that ?QOst excellent and highly 
 gifted woman, might excite ^ler to more energetic as2)ira- 
 tions after knowledge and all that was praiseworthy. Iler 
 personal beauty at that time was most remarkable, but her 
 manners were so cold and distant that she had few intimate 
 friends, and yet she had deep feeling. I remember that 
 she could hardly recover composure after reading the last 
 chapters of " Clarissa ITarlowe." It was on a fine summer 
 evening at this time, when we had just finished that power- 
 ful book, and when our eyes were red with weeping over 
 it, that we sallied out to talk it over, for we could think 
 and speak of nothing else. We were sauntering about on 
 a bank above the Esk called the Whinny, when who should 
 we meet but Professor Playfair, his then pupil Lord John 
 
100 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 "Russell, Mrs. Apreece, afterwards Lady Davy, and Miss 
 Hannah Mackenzie ' (a daughter of the " Man of Feeling," 
 Henry Mackenzie). Mrs. Apreece had brought me a letter 
 of introduction from Mr. Banks Cleaver. This very agree- 
 able party returned with us to drink tea at Frankfield, help- 
 ing us to forget the creations of Richardson's genius in the 
 sparkling vivacity of Mrs. Apreece, and the taste and refine- 
 ment of her companions. 
 
 [Those of us who survive will remember our enjoyment of 
 this beautiful locality, known to us before only by occasional 
 visits to Roslin or Hawthornden. Our possession of the dear 
 mother's daily company was more complete than in any former 
 summer spent in the country ; and as that district was much 
 less a place of villas than it has since become, the wood walks 
 of the surrounding glens, with the steep banks of their streams, 
 the tiny feeders of the Esk, were as quiet and free as they were 
 beautiful. " Pauf/m " and even bathing in these "burns" 
 were often incidents of our walks — to town children an especial 
 delight. So was our intimacy with the whole succession of 
 flowering plants that grew in those nooks, from the earliest 
 primrose to the latest harebell. We never became botanists in 
 any systematic sense, though (as our mother has recorded) 
 " Sinclair Cullen, a grandson of Dr. Cullen, a young man of 
 unquestionable genius, and of manners the most lively and 
 engaging, used to come from Edinburgh as a frequent visitor, 
 and gave us botanical lectures in those woods ; " but it was at 
 Frankfield that one unfailing pleasure of life became a habit 
 with us — to observe minutely in their own haunts, and thus to 
 share the " innocent mirth " of wild-flowers. It was there, too, 
 that we first held intercourse with the laboring people of our 
 own country. Many of them not engaged in farming work 
 were employed. in some paper-mills near at hand, but the hours 
 of work there were not so long as in most other factory toils. 
 
 1 This lad}^ died many years ago, and none who had ever known her can 
 forget the ciiarm of her social intercourse. In this it was difllcult to .say 
 •whether her play of genuine humor in conversation, or her quick sympathy 
 and comprehension as a listener, were the most attractive. 
 
MRS. BARBAULD. 101 
 
 The workers had time for the cultivation of their kail-yards, 
 and for no small cultivation of their minds besides. The boys 
 and girls came readily to some evening classes for instruction 
 such as we could help our mother to give them, and we learned 
 fully to respect the intelligence and to enjoy the conversable 
 qualities of the elder people when we visited them at their 
 frugal homes. Though we never returned to Frankfield as 
 summer residents, it was long afterwards a pleasure to us to 
 keep up the friendly intercourse of this time with a good many 
 of our village neighbors. The kindly welcomes we found at 
 the hearths of those we knew best well repaid the long walk 
 we sometimes took from Edinburgh in frosty days of the 
 following winters to see them, and to admire, hardly less than 
 in summer, the glen streams of those parts in their garniture of 
 icicles and frozen spray.] 
 
 In December of this year I set out with our eldest 
 daughter for London, where my old friend, Miss Forster, 
 met us. Previous to my leaving Bessy with Mrs. Barbauld, 
 I saw a good deal of that remarkable woman, — remarkable 
 not more for genius, taste, and feeling, than for great 
 elevation of mind, lively wit, and playfulness of fancy. 
 Her manners were very pleasing, without the polish of 
 fashionable life, but with rnuch of refinement and perfect 
 good breeding. I wished my dear child to have a high 
 standard of intellectual and moral perfection, and in placing 
 her with Mrs. Barbauld I had my wish accomplished. I 
 think it was Mrs. Barbauld's admirable essay on " The 
 Education of Circumstances " that gave me so great a desire 
 to place my daughter under the enviable circumstance of 
 being her inmate. 
 
 The winter of 1811 was not marked by any home event 
 that I can specially remember, except that our son Miles's 
 attendance at the Moral Philosophy class of the Edinburgh 
 College was the means of making us acquainted with Dr. 
 Thomas Brown, who had the year before been appointed 
 
102 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Buccessor to Dugald Stewart. Mrs. Elizabeth Hamilton was 
 still resident in Edinburgh, and at her house we always 
 found most agreeable society, as well as at that of Mrs. 
 Grant of Laggan, who two years before had established 
 herself in Edinburgh, proving a great • acquisition to our 
 little circle. The society of Edinburgli at that time was 
 delightful. The men then most distinguished in social 
 intercourse, alilce by literary reputation and amiable man- 
 ners in society, were Walter Scott, Mr. Jeffrey, Dr. Thomas 
 Brown, ]Mr. Mackenzie, Mr. Thomas Thomson, Professor 
 Playfair, ]\Ir. Pillans, the Rev. Dr. Alison, and Dr. R. More- 
 head. A little before this time the forms of social meetings 
 had somewhat changed from what they were when I knew 
 Edinburgli first. Large dinner parties were less frequent, 
 and supper parties — I mean hot suppers — were generally 
 discarded. In their place came large evening parties (some- 
 times larger than the rooms could conveniently hold) where 
 card-playing generally gave place to music or conversation. 
 The company met at nine, and parted at twelve o'clock. 
 Tea and coffee were handed about at nine, and the guests 
 sat down to some light cold refreshments later on in the 
 evening ; people did not in these parties meet to eat, but 
 to talk and listen. There you would see a group (chiefly 
 of ladies) listening to the brilliant talk of Mr. Jeffrey ; in 
 a different part of the room, perhaps another circle, amongst 
 whom were pale-faced, reverential-looking students, lending 
 their ears to the playful imaginative discussions of Dr. 
 Brown, — Avhile Professor Playfair would sometimes throw 
 in an ingenious or quiet remai'k, that gave fresh animation 
 to the discourse. On other occasions, old Mr. Mackenzie 
 would enliven the conversation with anecdotes of men and 
 manners gone by. It was this winter that Mrs. Apreece 
 and Mrs. Waddington divided the admiration of the Edin- 
 burgh circles between them, — the one attractive by the 
 
EDINBURGH SOCIETY. 103 
 
 vivacity of her conversutioii, the other by her remarkable 
 beauty and the grace of her manners. Her ehlest daughter, 
 then an intelligent girl, was afterwards the wile of Karon 
 Bunsen. I may remark that it was in tliis society that 
 Lord John Russell, tluui the iinnate of Professor Play fair, 
 used to spend some of the evening hours tliat he could 
 spare from hard study. The enlightened philosophy of 
 Mr. Playfair's mind, when brought into close contact with 
 his own youthful asi)iriiigs, may have contributed to give 
 Lord John's mind that high tone of political morality for 
 which he has since been so distinguished. 
 
 It was during this period also, when my children were 
 growing up and able to enjoy variety of intercourse, that 
 several P^nglish families of intelligence and agreeableness 
 were attracted to Edinburgh, for the sake both of its society 
 and the advantages it afforded as to education for both sons 
 and daughters. It would be in vain now to enumerate all 
 the new people that came and went among us, some leaving 
 permanent friendships behind them, and others most kindly 
 feelings and not infrecpient interchange of letters after they 
 left Edinburgh. Among those Whose, acquaintance in those 
 days ripened into friendship ^vrhich was contiimed without 
 interruption to the close of her life), Lady Williamson, the 
 widow of Sir Iledworth Williamson of Whitburn, sliould 
 be especially mentioned. She had a house for many years 
 in Queen Street, a few doors from North Castle Street. 
 Her daughters attended classes along with mine, and a 
 strong theatrical friendship was fornuul among our young 
 people, both sons and daughters, wliich led to most pleasant 
 meetings for rehearsals at our resi)ective homes. Lady 
 Williamson's house was large, and one of the drawing-rooms 
 was converted into a little permanent theatre during one 
 winter, when the play of " Douglas," and some of Joanna 
 Baillie's dramas were got up with great effect, and largo 
 
104 A UTO BIO GRAPHY. 
 
 audiences sometimes gave their applause con amore. After 
 the friendly family party left Edinburgh, we were always 
 urged to make Whitburn Hall a resting-place on our way 
 to Yorkshire, and frequently did so. The youngest Miss 
 Williamson married the Hon. T. Dundas, now Earl of Zet- 
 land, and she never failed in showing me the most friendly 
 kindness in my dull Tadcaster life, when attending on my 
 aunt Dawson. 
 
 \_Part of a Letter from Mrs. E. Hamilton to Mrs. Fletcher, 
 dated 1808. 
 
 " I long to hear of your meeting with Grace, and of the 
 improvement you found in the dear girl, and I know your ac- 
 count will be a faithful one ; for this I can say of you with 
 truth — that I have never known so fond a mother so perfectly 
 candid and impartial, neither have I ever known one to whom 
 I could so freely speak on the peculiar character of a child 
 without any apprehension of being mistaken by her in what I 
 said. This I consider as the greatest blessing to your children. 
 It permits you to make use of tlie eyes of your understanding 
 as well as your heart, and the consequences to them must be 
 great beyond expression." 
 
 Relating to my daughter Elizabeth, from 3Irs. Barbauld. 
 
 "Dear Madam, — I cannot let Miss Fletcher make up her 
 pacquet without adding a line to say — in truth, what I said 
 before, yet a mother, I fancy, will allow me to repeat — that her 
 child is well and lovely, and the darling of every one who sees 
 her. I am every day more and more pleased with her intelli- 
 gence and the justness of her taste, as well as with the sweet- 
 ness of her manners. You would have been amused with a 
 dialogue that passed between us the other day. We were 
 reading Paley. ' But,' says she, 'I do not want all this evi- 
 dence, for it never entered into my mind to doubt of any of 
 these truths.' I observed to her, that there were those who 
 had made objections and had written books against them, and 
 
LETTER FROM MRS. BARBAULD. 105 
 
 that it might occur to her, at some time of her life, to be asked 
 for a reason of the hope that was in her ; 'Bat,' replied she, 
 with great naivete., ' I think it would be the best way, then, to 
 read first one of these books that are written against Christianity.' 
 You may believe I did not recommend one, but I felt the convic- 
 tion that we do not even wish our children to inquire without 
 a bias on their minds. Nor ought we ; if we think ourselves to 
 be in possession of important truths, it is both i-ight and kind 
 to impress them on the mind of youth without waiting for the 
 uncertain process of their own crude reasonings. There is a 
 great deal of unjust prejudice against prejudice. Miss Fletcher 
 has no doubt told you that we have seen ' Berenice ' performed, 
 and very well, at a private party. It is wonderful that a Play 
 should support itself, as this does, without change of situation 
 or anything that can be called an incident, and with the miser- 
 able expedient of three confidants created for the sole purpose 
 of being so; but ' Berenice ' has many pretty lines, which one has 
 often heard quoted, and it has the remembrance of the interest 
 excited by the loves of Louis XIV. and Mancini. The French 
 Plays are better than the English for private representation, as 
 they require no change of scene. I see, dear madam, you have 
 been struck as well as ourselves with the uncalled-for severity 
 of the Edinburgh Review againstmy niece — I say uncalled-for, 
 because they were not reyiewin^her; and if they did not choose 
 to bring her book before the pubhc, I think they had no right 
 to bring her name. The cause of their unfounded sarcasm 
 appears pretty evidently in the next page, where they mention 
 Montgomery. I wish my niece had not inserted her address to 
 that poet. ' They are too proud and too generous,' said Mr. 
 Hamond, some time ago, when I was expressing a fear that it 
 might influence their notice of her; but it has not proved so. 
 I wish the Reviewers would ask me for a motto ; I could give 
 them one from Shakespeare : — 
 
 ' And like the tyrannous breathing of the North, 
 Shakes all our bucjs from blowing.' 
 
 "I must have tired you, dear madam, with this long letter. 
 
 •' A. L. Barbauld. 
 
 " Stoke NEvvfNGTON, April, 1811." 
 
 5* 
 
106 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 To her daughter Grace, from E. F. 
 
 " Sunday Morning, November, 1812. 
 
 " The Napiers leave town on Tuesday, and I must prepare 
 my packet for you, dear child. Colonel George Napier is a 
 most interesting and truly heroic man. It was Miss Craig's 
 letters to her brother, so full of good sense and affectionate 
 solicitude, that won his heart ; then her brother used to dwell 
 on the sweetness of her temper and the goodness of her heart, 
 and with his dying breath he besought his friend to see his 
 sister whenever he returned to England. Under these impres- 
 sions. Colonel Napier was in the truest sense in love ; and 
 before he left London this summer, to fulfil young Craig's 
 dying wish, he told his mother, Lady Sarah, that if Miss Craig 
 corresponded with the expectations he had formed of her, she 
 was the only woman on earth he could love. His mother 
 sanctioned what the world would call his romantic passion. 
 He came, saw, and was completely conquered. You may 
 remember how deeply she was interested about him when she 
 was here last winter. To hear him talk of General Moore 
 would do you good, dear child; he was his aide-de-camp, and 
 had been receiving orders five minutes before the General 
 received his fatal wound at the battle of Corunna. Napier was 
 at that moment sent to bring up some fresh detachments, 
 and did not return in time to see him while consciousness 
 lasted ; he was just expiring when Napier entered the tent. 
 He said Moore's heart was broken, and that he exposed his 
 person with desperate courage that day on which he fell, but 
 that during all his misfortunes his courage, firmness, and 
 magnanimity never forsook him, and it was only his peculiar 
 friends who saw what was passing in his mind. Napier says, 
 ' We shall never look upon his like again.' 
 
 "I hope, my dearest Grace, you enjoyed your last packet ; 
 believe me, you cannot have greater pleasure in hearing from us 
 than I have in preparing them for you. Your kind heart and 
 affectionate attentions are a constant subject of sweet recollec- 
 tion to me, and nothing pleasant occurs without my earnestly 
 wishing you were here to share it with us. We ^hall hope to 
 hear from you at great length by Mr. Marshall, when you will 
 
LETTERS. 107 
 
 give us a narrative of all your proceedings, thoughts, feelings, 
 and opinions. I expect much gratification this evening in our 
 meeting with Sir James Mackintosh again, who is a man of 
 very distinguished talents and great conversational powers. He 
 has been for the last ten years in India. His conversation is 
 full of interest and instruction. The account he gives of the 
 Hindoo character is very curious ; he says in refinement of 
 manners, cultivation, and politeness, they are equal to Europeans; 
 that they talk of truth, honor, and moral obligation, as if they 
 felt it, but that, in fact, they neither act upon these principles 
 themselves nor expect you to act upon them. Sir James knew 
 a Hindoo Rajah, a man of great acquirements and of the most 
 polished manners, who, when he was disappointed in the collec- 
 tion of his taxes of the sum he expected, ordered a pound of 
 eyes to be brought him of those who had refused to pay the 
 taxes. Such horrid barbarity can only be attributed to the 
 want of the humanizing power of Christianity. The rites of 
 Juggernaut accustom the people to believe that their deity can 
 be pleased with human suffering ; how, then, can they be per- 
 suaded that the exercise of cruelty can be displeasing to him? 
 Mr. M'Neill dined with us yesterday. He has-just been on a 
 visit to Walter Scott, and hears that ' Rokeby ' is a domestic 
 tale : the scene, Mr. Morritt's Rokeby ; the time, during the 
 wars of York and Lancaster.^ It will be published about 
 Christmas. I have been mucli pleased with some of Crabbe's 
 Tales — they are so true to nature, such beautiful pictures of 
 the common and every-day joys and sorrows of humanity. 
 There is not a particle of poetical romance in them, but they 
 
 are often very touching. Pray tell Mr. S , with my best 
 
 compliments, that since I saw him we have seen a speech of 
 Mr. Fawkes, so full of wisdom, truth, and public spirit, that I 
 am convinced the report of his being deranged is nothing more 
 than a political calumny. I wish there were five hundred such 
 madmen in our House of Commons. I believe we should all 
 be the better for their measures, from the King to the lowest of 
 his subjects." 
 
108 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Parts of Letters to 3Irs. Stark, 1813 and 1814. 
 
 "Pakk Hall, 1813. 
 
 " No changes have happened smce you left us, except that our 
 autumnal tints are of a browner shade, and that we draw closer 
 round our fire in the evening, and that our picture grows more 
 like every touch we give the canvas. 
 
 "If Grace had a temper to be spoiled by commendation, my 
 delight in this picture would make her conceited; but though 
 she has pleasure in the art, it is with her a very secondary 
 pleasure — what she most feels is the reflected enjoyment she 
 affords to me." 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 "December 15th, ISli. 
 
 " I could not wi-ite till I heard of dear Grace's safe arrival at 
 Tadcaster after a journey in the mail during the severest 
 weather we have had this winter. She set off with Mrs. 
 Macnab last Thursday. I cannot tell you what it cost me to 
 part with her for so many months, for even your indulgence 
 would condemn my weakness when so peremptory a duty 
 required the sacrifice. Miles's illness and our consequent anxiety 
 has i^re vented us from knowing what has been going on in 
 Edinburgh since we returned, but it has given us frequent 
 opportunities of seeing Dr. Thomson. He gives a sad picture 
 of the demoralization of Paris. He thinks this is greatly owing 
 to the unprincipled ambition of Bonaparte's government. It 
 was a government of expedients and not of general principles, 
 and, of course, no man of integritj^ could obtain or keep a situa- 
 tion of public trust or national importance, because if a more 
 enterpi'ising or bold adventurer started a more daring project of 
 ambition he was always preferred, hence character lost its value 
 and fidelity its reward. Dr. Thomson seems to think this cor- 
 ruption of manners pervades all ranks, nor are the literary and 
 scientific men exempted from it. It makes one sad to think of 
 these things, dear friend, but I still hope that the great division 
 of property in France will in time establish a middle class, and 
 that this middle class will exercise a wholesome control over 
 public opinion favorable to private morals and general happi- 
 
LETTERS TO MRS. STARK. 109 
 
 ness. Dr. Thomson says there are now in France three millions 
 of landed proprietors. We have been reading Wordsworth's 
 ' Excursion ' and Mrs. Brmiton's ' Discipline.' Wordsworth's 
 Poem, of 423 pages quarto, has some exquisite passages, but is 
 on the whole far too long. It is marked, however, by that 
 high tone of moral sensibility and devout aspirations after good- 
 ness for which his other works are remarkable. His hero is a 
 pedlar, a Scotch pedlar, too, who carries his sublime morahty 
 as well as his pack to the native mountains of the poet, and 
 there holds converse with Wordsworth. The critics may sneer, 
 but the lover of nature, and of mankind, will find much to love 
 in the ' Excursion.' We are delighted with ' Discipline ; ' I 
 will not anticipate your pleasure in reading it, but I am sure 
 you will find much to commend. The saintly purity of Miss 
 Mortimer's character is the finest illustration of genuine piety 
 that I have anywhere met with in fiction." 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 "May 19th, 1814. 
 
 " Although I have not written to you, my dear friend, I have 
 been rejoicing with you in spirit and in truth at the great 
 events which have immortalized the past month, and have given 
 a new interest to the destinies ol mankind ; never again did I 
 expect to feel the same interests in politics, the aspirations of 
 hope, or the same confidence in national virtue. The precepts 
 of La Harpe have not been as the good seed that was sown in 
 stony places. His illustrious pupil, the good Alexander, has 
 nobly proved the pre-eminence of virtue. How beautiful is the 
 simple and unostentatious manner in which he has acted ! 
 Joanna Baillie writes to me that when the Duke of Clarence 
 asked the Duchess of Oldenburg what her brother would do when 
 he entered Paris, she said in broken English, ' He will first tank 
 God, and then he will seem as if he had noting to do in the 
 matter.' Count Orloff told Dr. Baillie that he had on his 
 estates in Russia about 40,660 peasants, all of whom could read, 
 and most of them write, that they could carry their complaints to 
 three different courts if they thought themselves injured, and that 
 the expense of law proceedings would not exceed fifty shillings. 
 
no AUTOBIOGRAPnY. 
 
 " We are now upon a visit to one of my earliest friends, IMrs. 
 Laycock, in the sweetest of Yorksliire villages, where beautiful 
 woodland scenery, the loveliest freshness of spring, and the 
 happiest domestic intercourse contribute to our enjoyment. 
 How I wish we had you in this pleasant village, where every- 
 thing wears the aspect of gladness, and harmonizes with the 
 festivity of nature in her gayest season ! An English village is 
 in my mind the best commentary on the English constitution, 
 the independence, comfort, security, industry, and opulence of 
 its inhabitants are the blessed fruits of peace and liberty." 
 
 From G. F. to her Mother. 
 
 VISIT TO 8AEAII THE GOOD SERVANT, AVHOSE STOKY WAS TOLD IN 
 THE FIRST PART OF THESE MEMORIALS. 
 
 "Tadoaster, March, 1813. 
 " ]\Iy dearest IMoTiiER, — On IMonday, immediately after 
 breakfast, I set out on my delightful errand to Griinston. I 
 happily escaped all our Argus-eyed neighbors, and therefore 
 had the satisfaction of walking alone. 
 
 'It was the first mild day of JIarch, 
 Each minute sweeter than before.' 
 
 Those beautiful lines of Wordsworth were strongly recalled 
 to my memory, for there was in truth 'a blessing in the air.* 
 I found Sarah alone in her cottage, excepting her little silent 
 friend and companion, her infant's chair, which you know 
 always stands beside her. She spoke much of you, and told me 
 she remembered well the first day you went to visit her poor 
 mistress. AVhen I gave her Lady \Villiamson's generous pres- 
 ent, she seemed almost overpowered, and she told me after- 
 wards, when 1 asked her to dictate to me what she wished to 
 say I would write for her, that at the moment she received the £5 
 her heart was so filled with gratitude that she could not speak. 
 She said that, not having learned to write she could not indite 
 properly to a lady, and I did not press her to do so lest it should 
 perple.K her and make her tliink I doubted her gratitude ; but 
 she repeatedly begged me to tell the good lady how very much 
 she felt her kindness, for it had been a hard winter, and that 
 
VISIT TO SARAH, THE GOOD SERVANT. HI 
 
 she was growing old now, and not able to work as she used 
 to do. With admirable dehcacy she never mentioned her 
 conduct to her mistress in expressing her thanks to Lady- 
 Williamson, not even to depreciate it; she seemed to feel that 
 touching on her own merits would have been like giving herself 
 a claim to the generosity of the 'good lady.' When I told 
 her that you wanted a picture of her, she said certainly, it was 
 her duty, and without making one excuse seated herself where 
 I wished her. I was delighted to find one human being at least 
 free from vanity, for though Sarah was in her common working 
 dress, she did not seem at all discomposed; she was much 
 pleased that you should think of her, but did not concern her- 
 self how she appeared. Indeed, she submitted to it as a sort 
 of duty, and thought, as you desired it, it was the only 
 little return she could make for all your kindness. When she 
 had sat some time I told her I feared she would be tired of 
 sitting still so long; with great simplicity she mildly answered, 
 ' Oh. thank you, I can sit still very patiently.' The sketch I 
 have taken does not altogether please me, but as 1 have caught 
 some of the expression of her countenance I will send it in the 
 next frank. I should have much pleasure in introducing our 
 good Sarah to Dr. Brown if he comes this way in spring, and 
 can spare time. She is an admirable creature, when I see her 
 in dress and manners, so simple,^juncultivated, and uneducated, 
 with a soul filled with every excellence, and when I contrast 
 her with many of the great worldlings around us, Shakespeare's 
 words constantly come into my mind — 
 
 ' A ministering angel shall she be when they lie howling.' 
 
 It is difficult to give in a drawing the peculiar expression of 
 placidity and resignation in her countenance. This is another 
 proof among many of the wretched limitation in human power 
 when inspired — almost poetically inspired — by the character, 
 the mind of the person whose countenance you are to delineate ; 
 if, unfortunately, your pencil has not a sharp point and you 
 have forgotten your knife, vainly will you seek to give to each 
 varying beauty of the human face 'its local habitation.' 
 There is great vexation of spirit in this, a vexation from which 
 Sarah has been saved, as she cannot draw. 
 
112 A UTOBIO GRAF II Y. 
 
 " Among the late subjects at the Forum, would it not be a 
 good one to discuss whether accomplishments are of essential 
 advantage to the happiness of rational beings ? and though for 
 my own part I should much plead in favor of them, yet a good 
 deal might be said on the other side of the question." 
 
 Parts of Letters from Grace Fletcher to her Mother 
 and Sisters. 
 
 "January 15th, 1815. 
 
 " When this reaches you, dearest mamma, you will be sitting 
 with them all — Miles telling you about Bourtree Hill, and all 
 those pleasant little minute histories so interesting to ourselves. 
 It is your birthday, and they have all wished you many, ah ! 
 how many, joyful returns of the day. I remember we used all 
 to try to be the first to run into your room, and give you the 
 wish, and receive the first kiss. I must content myself with 
 being the last this time, but now from my heart do I send you 
 my little tribute of affection. We enjoy at this moment, I 
 trust, the only true happiness, the only happiness I think we 
 much prize^ the wellbeing of those we love — dearest papa's 
 good health, yours, and all of us; how few are so blessed — for 
 a continuation of these do I hope and pray, and poor indeed 
 after these would be any wishes of worldly benefits. Accept 
 then, dearest of mothers, this best wish, and think of me on 
 the 15th as thinking only of you. Dear aunty, she spoke of 
 you this morning, with tears in her eyes — tears of love and 
 memory. 
 
 " Your kindness has furnished me with a great gratification : 
 two or thi'ee days ago 1 received 'Discipline.'^ I have read 
 the greater part of it twice over ; common sentiments of 
 admiration and liking do not suit a book which is so uncommon, 
 — a book which, independent of its interest, has jirecepts and 
 opinions which must be chronicled in the mind, — a book, in 
 short, the aim and object of which is so noble. I rose from 
 the perusal of it better, at least in the desire of being better. 
 l\Iiss Mortimer seems to me a character perfectly new ; hers is 
 a soul and a spirit which sets commonplace at defiance ; how 
 
 1 By Mrs. Brunton. 
 
LETTER FROM LUCY AIKIN. US 
 
 beautiful is her tenderness, her piety, her generosity ! Mait- 
 land is the only sort of hero I admire ; splendid, dashing heroes 
 I cannot endure ; perfect heroes, such as my dear Sir Charles, 
 are a little tiresome, not from their goodness, for it is unpleas- 
 ant even in speaking of the hero of a novel to hear goodness 
 objected to, but from the minuteness with which their chari- 
 table deeds are related, which gives them the air of being busy- 
 bodies ; but in Maitland, the noble intellect, the force of mind, 
 and those feelings which make you know he must be good and 
 charitable, with a certain (I hardly know what to call it) want 
 of detail in the delineation of his character, present to us a 
 being altogether admirable, altogether worthy of love. I like 
 the manner in which Mrs. Brunton has treated the Highland part 
 of the book. She has seized on those features in the manners 
 and character of the Highlanders which are descriptive and pic- 
 turesque, not those which are ludicrous. She has not taken 
 from the nature of her picture by giving a too brilliant coloring 
 to the scenes she presents ; she has mellowed the background, 
 and touched the prominent and interesting parts with feeling 
 and genius. To me she has as much surpassed the author of 
 * Waverley ' in taste as she has in sentiment. Is it not more 
 l^leasing to soar than to sink almost buried in the mire? It is 
 as if a person in describing man said that he was an animal, 
 prodigiously like an orang-outang-^ this is a bodily comparison 
 taken" from the earth. There was a poet who, glancing from 
 heaven to earth, exclaimed, ' What a piece of work is man ! 
 in action, how like an angel ! in apprehension, how like a 
 god ! ' This was a transient burst of exultation, not of arro- 
 gant self-confidence ; thinking of great things must always 
 make us humble, because such thoughts lead to the fountain 
 of all greatness. But there is no end of these reflections ; my 
 solitary musings make me very tedious, dearest mamma. — 
 Fondest love to all. '^^ ^ • 
 
 From Miss Aikin. 
 
 " Stoke Newington, July 1st, 1815. , 
 *' My dear Mrs. Fletcher, — I must not lose the opportu- 
 nity of writing to you by our dear Grace, yet what can I write 
 that she will not be able to tell you far better ? On one subject 
 
 H 
 
114 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 only you will find her information defective, and that is herself. 
 She never can, or never will, tell you how very much she has 
 delighted us all by her sweet manners and most interesting 
 conversation, and how deeply we have all regretted her very 
 hasty departure, which has left us tantalized rather than satis- 
 fied with her society. ' She is all soul,' says my father. ' She 
 pleases me,' says my mother, ' more than any young woman I 
 have seen ; she is all one could wish.' She is everything, say 
 I, that I hoped and expected she would be, when I saw her 
 three years ago at her own hor^e, already a being that I could 
 make a companion and friend. How exquisite must be your 
 feelings, my friend, who can look on such a creature and 
 say. This is mine ; mine her manners, mine her tastes, her 
 talents, her principles, her feelings. Who can think of you 
 without envying a little the privileges of a mother of su?h a 
 child ? 
 
 " But you will expect me to quit this theme of domestic 
 interest for those public events which nothing can long banish 
 from a mind like yours. A\'hat shall we hope or fear, welcome 
 or deprecate, for a nation where revolution succeeds revolution 
 with a rapidity which baffles all speculation and all example ? 
 For my part, I imagine myself sitting in a theatre, where, with 
 eyes riveted on the stage, I watch with eager curiosity and 
 intense interest the unfolding of a grand and complicated drama. 
 Sometimes I smile, sometimes I weep or shudder, often I am 
 surprised, not unfrequently disappointed; but through all 
 successive changes I look with impatience to some end, some 
 great catastrophe, which is to wind up all and show rae why 
 this or that incident was made to turn so or so, and what was 
 really to have been wished at such a particular point of the 
 history. Meantime I scarcely feel justified in rejoicing or 
 lamenting, and all my abstract principles seem to be swept 
 away by the resistless current of events. Never, indeed, have 
 I seen the friends of freedom in general so divided, so perplexed, 
 so much in danger of falling into a dilemma on whichever side 
 they speak or act. Bonaparte, the Republican General, was 
 an object of fond admiration to all whom the atrocities of the 
 reign of terror had not previously disgusted for ever with the 
 Freuch cause and nation ; of those some ceased to wish him 
 
LETTER FROM LUCY AIKIN. 115 
 
 well after the plundering of Rome, others after he deserted his 
 army in Egypt, and all the consistent ones, as it appears to me, 
 abjured him at last when he assumed the throne ; but some, 
 either from a fanatical belief that he was destined to overthrow 
 the Church of Rome, or from the habit and passion of opposi- 
 tion to the ruling party at home, have clung to him in all 
 fortunes. It was difficult for us to hail with cordiality the 
 return of the Bourbons, and some acts of Louis have certainly 
 tended to show that it was truly said that the family had 
 learned nothing and forgotten nothing. On the late restoration 
 of Bonaparte, which had something in it very imposing, it 
 appeared as if the voice of the nation was again heard, and 
 you were by no means singular in indulging a hope that a con- 
 stitutional party would arise and convert this military despot 
 into a lawful sovereign. I, however, cherished no such expec- 
 tations. I expected that the Praetorian guard and their em- 
 peror, if successful against their foreign enemies, would soon 
 overpower the feeble resistance of the Senate, and I anticipated 
 nothing in such a case but a restoration in full force of his odious 
 tyranny, and ten years of bloodshed and devastation for Europe. 
 ]n the triumph of the allies and the expected second return of 
 the old dynasty, I therefore rejoice as in the triumph of peace 
 over war, a legitimate sovereign of mild character and pacific 
 disposition over a soldier of fortune, insolent by temper and 
 arbitrary by habit, while his rival is likely to be only haughty 
 by birth and absolute in theory. If, indeed, a constitutional 
 party worthy of the name survives at Paris, by whom will its 
 voice be most willingly heard, by Napoleon the military em- 
 peror, or by Louis the lawful king ? I think unquestionably by 
 the latter. I even hope that he may find it his interest to 
 throw himself into the arms of this only sound portion of the 
 nation as a support against the enmity of the army, which I 
 hope to see under his reign unemployed and consequently 
 disaffected. That the last great battle has thinned its ranks 
 I regard as happy for France and for Europe. Under the terror 
 of such a standing army devoted to such a leader, could civil 
 rights exist in security ? 
 
 " Thus have I given you my whole profession of faith on this 
 momentous subject, on which in general I think much and 
 
116 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 speak very little, conscious of my imperfect knowledge, and the 
 many, many chances of erring in my judgment. 
 
 " Grace will tell you that I am on the "wing for Brighton, and 
 I every moment expect her to claim this letter with our reluc- 
 tant adieux. — Believe me, ever yours, 
 
 " L. AlKIN." 
 
 To Mrs. F. from Mrs. Brunton, author of " Self- Control " 
 and ^'■Discipline." 
 
 "London, June, 1815. 
 
 " G. left me on Wednesday, and has carried with her more of 
 my esteem, as well as affection, than I ever bestowed upon any 
 person in the same term of acquaintance. Perhaps I like her 
 the better that she affords me occasion to applaud my own 
 penetration. She is precisely the being I expected her to prove. 
 She tempts me to the sin of covetousness ; and is, at this mo- 
 ment, the only possession of yours, or any other person's, for 
 which I am inclined to break the tenth commandment. If I 
 do not absolutely, as the Catechism says, ' envy and grieve at 
 the good of my neighbor,' I cannot deny that I have 'inordi- 
 nate motions and affections ' to what is yours. I am ready 
 to quarrel with you for taking her away from me before I had 
 time to steal any part of the kindest and gentlest of hearts 
 from you. I have seldom seen any one whom I was more 
 desirous to attach ; but she is gone from me before I had time 
 to counteract the ill impressions she would receive from my 
 stiffness and my Calvinism. This last, you know, you gave 
 me permission to expose ; and accordingly I have not concealed 
 it. On the contrary, I have spoken out my convictions strongly, 
 though, I hope, not harshly ; and have even solemnly adjured 
 my dear young friend to give them her deliberate and candid 
 consideration. 
 
 " She will probably tell you this, and all which has occupied 
 our discourse and attention. But she will not tell you that 
 the modesty and candor — the singular mixture of simpUcity 
 and acuteness, of enthusiasm and gentleness, which she was 
 every moment unconsciously exliibiting, have made her the 
 most interesting show which I have seen in Loudon." 
 
LETTER FROM MRS. BARBAULD. 117 
 
 From Mrs. Barhauld to Mrs. Fletcher. 
 
 " Stoke Newington, June 1M, 1815. 
 
 " I must write, I must tell you how much I, how much all of 
 us, admire your daughter. It is but seldom that expectations 
 highly raised are gratified. The imagination has been at work, 
 and the first feeling, at least, is disappointment, but I do assure 
 you your dear Grace is everything I expected, and everything 
 her friends can wish her. The stores of her mind are evidently 
 large, her knowledge not vague, but clear and accurate, and 
 generosity and sensibility seem the leading features of her 
 mind. Her manner is, I think, equally remote from shyness 
 and from a love of display, and has all the graces of youth and 
 modesty. To this she adds all those obliging attentions which 
 youth, confident in its attractions, sometimes neglects ; but 
 now, my dear madam, do you think we can soon resign such 
 a treasure, just look at it and say farewell? Indeed we cannot : 
 and the object of my letter is to say that I do hope you will 
 alter your intentions of having Miss Fletcher home so soon, as 
 to our sorrow, no less than surprise, she talks of. So near 
 London, and with your extensive connections and those of your 
 friends, there cannot long want opportunities of an escort home; 
 and if our own dear Grace can make herself happy here, I hope 
 you will not refuse to let her prolong a visit on which we have 
 thought so long and with so iiiuch pleasure; and now, I will 
 say no more, but leave it to your generosity. 
 
 "Are your friends in Edinburgh rejoicing or mourning over 
 our late victory? I should suppose there are few families that 
 have not lost some relation, some endeared friend, in the last 
 bloody day. O what a pugnacious animal is man, and what 
 prospect for Europe in so many hordes of fighting men, who, if 
 they please, may cut and carve it amongst themselves. I 
 should not wonder to see France divided as Poland was. A 
 portion in the middle, perhaps, left for the Bourbons; they 
 could secure nothing by their own prowess."] 
 
 In the summer of 1812 Mr. Fletcher and all the family 
 went to Yorkshire. The following winter my husband 
 foimd himself less able for the labors of his profession; 
 
118 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 though nothing could exceed his industry, he became 
 more frequently attacked by feverish ailments. He had 
 weathered the political storm most manfully, without 
 truckling either to judges and men in power on the one 
 hand, or courting popularity by any subserviency to the 
 party of the people on the other. He held his course 
 right onward, and nothing could exceed his interest in the 
 public good. It was always the subject next his heart 
 and the most animating topic of discourse at his own fire- 
 side in the midst of his family. He had no turn for 
 frivolous conversation, and though no enemy to cheerful- 
 ness, and most indulgent to the tastes and feelings of his 
 wife and children, to whom I never heard him utter a 
 harsh word or unkind expression, he was less personally 
 disposed to mix in large parties than he had once been. 
 In the summer of 1813 he was prevailed on to take his 
 whole family to Park Hall, our small and most incom- 
 modious dwelling in Stirlingshire. The interest he took 
 in his planting and improvements at Park Hall led us 
 after this to pass the greater part of five summers there, 
 where he was free from the fatigues and cares of business, 
 and by this means, I think, added some years to his valu- 
 able life, as well as afforded him great interest and amuse- 
 ment. Our summers at Park Hall were made cheerful and 
 agreeable by the friendliness of our neighbors and the 
 novelty of the situation. We were twenty miles from 
 post and market, and I remember in the summer of 1813 
 a man used to go round among the carnivorous inhabitants 
 of the parish to ask if they would bespeak a quarter of lamb 
 or leg of mutton before he ventured to kill the animals in 
 question. There was a carrier once a week from Glasgow 
 who brought our bread, our groceries, and our letters ; and 
 often our impatience for news from the distant world 
 made us walk miles on the Glasfjow road on fine summer 
 
FIBST SUMMER AT PARK HALL. 119 
 
 evenings to meet the carriers, and the contents of the bag 
 for the village of Balfron were turned out upon the road, 
 while by the light of the carrier's lantern we picked out 
 our letters and hastened home to read them. Balfron was 
 a most lawless village. There was a cotton-mill in it, and 
 the workers in it were among the best people there. It 
 was illicit distillation that demoralized the district. The 
 men of the place resorted to the woods or to the seques- 
 tered glens among the Campsie Hills, and there distilled 
 whisky, which their wives and daughters took in tin vessels 
 in the form of stays buckled round their waists to sell for 
 a high price in Glasgow. This fraud against the Excise 
 led to many other frauds, as these poor people were 
 tempted to steal the articles from which they made the 
 whisky, and a gang of that desperate description lived 
 upon the plunder of their neighbors' goods. One Satur- 
 day night the contents of our larder were carried off by 
 some of these marauders, and we were left to make shift 
 for a Sunday dinner, but our hapless condition being noised 
 abroad, legs of mutton, cheeses, butter, and all sorts of 
 good cheer were heaped upon us by thfe neighboring 
 gentry. These were divert-i'iig incidents at the time, and 
 the summer of 1813 passed most happily away, although 
 quite without the luxuries or almost the ordinary comforts 
 and accommodations of persons accustomed to polite society. 
 We had several friendly visitors, and among others, a 
 distinguished stranger, the brother of my dear friend Mrs. 
 Henry Erskine, Colonel Monro, who after a life of honor- 
 able warfare in India had the year before come home to 
 see his friends. Sir Thomas was a man of stern appearance 
 but of most gentle and kindly dispositions, with great 
 talents and high principles of integrity and honor. His 
 sister afterwards told me that the object of his visit at 
 Park Hall at that time was to sain our eldest daushter for 
 
120 A UTO BIO GRAPHY. 
 
 his bride. He had the previous winter often met and 
 admired her at Edinburgh parties, but the fates, or rather 
 Providence, willed it otherwise, for she was then, when he 
 came to visit us, on a visit to Mrs. Glasgow in Ayrshire, 
 and there became engaged to Mr. Taylor. Sir Thomas 
 married and returned to India, and died Governor of 
 Madras. 
 
 I have said little yet of my younger children, whose 
 characters were by degrees becoming more and more 
 developed. If I had any system in education, it was to lay 
 as little restraint as was consistent with their good on the 
 wishes and pursuits of my children. They equally shared my 
 sympathy and confidence. I had no pleasures which they 
 did not share, no amusements in which they did not take 
 part. I thought that in making them happy I should 
 make them good ; but I think I erred in encouraging 
 amusements of too exciting a character, such as private 
 theatricals and recitations. In dear Grace they had 
 perhaps a tendency to increase an excessive sensibility and 
 enthusiasm of character, which, while it made her a most 
 attractive and delightful human being to every one who 
 could appreciate her refined taste and varied talents, would, 
 had she lived, have made her too susceptible to the dis- 
 appointments of life. I think I did not help my children, 
 sufficiently to strengthen their minds by self-discipline ; 
 and though I endeavored to teach them the religion of 
 the Bible, still I think their religious home teaching was 
 too vague and unsystematical to impress habits of self- 
 restraint and self-government from the fear of offending 
 God constantly on their minds. To girls educated at 
 home this is not an unsafe religious education, but to sons, 
 educated as all men are by the world, it is not strict 
 enough to enable them to avoid the seduction of the 
 passions, and the evils of bad example, to which they are 
 
ON THE BENEFITS OF TADCASTER LIFE. 121 
 
 so soon exposed. It was on principle, as well as from a 
 feeling of deep gratitude towards the kindest of aunts, that 
 I consented that my three dear girls — Grace, Margaret, and 
 Mary — should take it each in turn to spend their winter 
 half-year with my good uncle and aunt at Tadcaster. They 
 all loved home intensely, and it was no small sacrifice for 
 them to remain in a small dull country town with two old 
 people, without variety, and with no society, or such as 
 they considered worse than none; but such was their 
 sense of duty, and such their desire to repay the debt of 
 gratitude their mother owed to this good aunt, that they 
 never complained, when their turn came round, to give up 
 their happy home, and all the pleasures and delights of an 
 Edinburgh society, which they could so fully and richly 
 enjoy, but went cheerfully into their exile; and by 
 frequent letters to and from home, cultivated an ease and 
 liveliness of letter-writing which exercised both mind and 
 heart. This was not the only use of these Tadcaster 
 winters, — it abstracted them from the constant whirl of 
 amusement in which other girls of their age were engaged, 
 it proved a seasonable aid to reflection, and enabled them 
 to live contentedly withou^-'excitement, for never did an 
 expression of discontent escape from any of them under 
 these circumstances. Fortunately they had no ready 
 access to books of mere amusement, and were thus thrown 
 on solid reading such as Miss Hill's library, aunt Dawson's 
 book-shelves, and the York library offered. Another 
 advantage this seclusion afforded was, throwing my dear 
 girls among a different grade and description of people 
 from any that they had been accustomed to. It is a com- 
 fort to me now to think that my dear aunt owed much of 
 the cheerfulness of her latter years to the interest she took 
 in her young companions. The sweetness of her temper, 
 and her exceeding indulgence towards them, secured them 
 
 6 
 
122 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 from all trials of temper so far as she was concerned ; and 
 then the joy of coming home more than compensated for 
 the privations they had experienced. It was a good 
 school for them ; it threw them on their own resources ; it 
 gave them individually the happy consciousness that they 
 were doing good, making their mother's best friend happy, 
 and that at the expense of some amusement and pleasure 
 which they sacrificed. It taught them to venerate old age 
 in the sweet example their good aunt's happy temper 
 afforded them, while by the useful employment of their 
 time, they were making more solid acquirements than they 
 could have found leisure to do in Edinburgh. 
 
 On the 16th July, 1814, our eldest daughter was married 
 to Mr. William Taylor, who then lived at a place belong- 
 ing to the Earl of Eglinton, called Bourtree Hill. The 
 marriage took place, as was then the custom among 
 Episcopalians in Edinburgh, in our drawing-room in Castle 
 Street, and the ceremony was affectionately performed by 
 the Rev. Robert Moi-ehead, who was a colleague of Mr. 
 Alison's, and had been a valued friend and neighbor of 
 our family from the time he was appointed to the Cowgate 
 Chapel in 1805. Mr. Taylor had unfortunately left the 
 English Bar, and a life of considerable usefulness in parlia- 
 ment, where he belonged to the party of Huskisson and 
 Canning, for the sake of superintending some collieries 
 which his father had left him, and which proved the cause 
 of much after-embarrassment and distress. 
 
 \_From Allan Cunningham. 
 
 " London, April '20th, 1815. 
 " Madam, — I scarcely know bow to address you after such 
 a pause in our correspondence, and lest your eye should have 
 forgotten my hand, allow me to forsake the common path of 
 letter-writing, and say it is Allan Cunningham who writes to 
 you — one whom you have honored with your friendship and 
 
LETTER FROM ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. 123 
 
 your counsel, and who never associates your name but with all 
 the words that are generous and exalted and soul-warm in the 
 language. Since I wrote to you last, I have made an important 
 alteration in my mode of life, having forsaken the news- 
 papers and returned to my original vocation. Do not attribute 
 this to fluctuation of temper and love of change. It was a 
 premeditated step, and my peace of mind, my health, and the 
 welfare of my family, alike demanded it. When I left the 
 papers I entered into the employment of Mr. Chantrey, a 
 sculptor of eminent natural abilities, who intrusted me with 
 the management of his work, and gave me a comfortable 
 salary. With him I enjoy the greatest repose of mind. After 
 observing all day the marble assume elegance and grace 
 beneath the chisel of the sculptor, I return to a neat and 
 convenient house, and amuse myself in cultivating cabbages or 
 bachelors'-buttons till the twilight, after which I edify my 
 youngest son, and sometimes my wife, by humming over re- 
 mains of ancient song. This I hope is an amusement as 
 harmless as babbling in rhyme, and as pleasant too ; and what 
 heightens my enjoyment still more, is the prospect which I 
 have of seeing you in Edinburgh in the course of a twelve- 
 month, for we are carving statues of President Blair and Lord 
 Melville for decorating your good town, which I will have to 
 erect. My mind is now free fr^om the delightful but bewitch- 
 ing entanglements of poesy. Acquaintance with the world has 
 sombred the rosy and romantic coloring with which my youth 
 had decked the vista of future years. It has given me right 
 notions and a knowledge of myself, and pictured the path of 
 my life with an austere but a truthful hand."] 
 
 1816. — It was during this winter that we were led, by 
 strong feelings of sympathy with dear Miles's happiness, to 
 see clearly that his attachment to Miss Clavering, and the 
 attachment he had inspired, called upon us to make some 
 sacrifice to enable him to fulfil his engagement. Nothing 
 could be more reasonable and less selfish than his feelings 
 and conduct. When, upon being asked what he meant to 
 do, he frankly avowed his engagement, and said — "I intend 
 
124 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 to work and wait ; I know you cannot afford to make me 
 a separate establishment." I should here mention, with 
 contrition, how severely I felt Mrs. Taylor's misfortunes, 
 not with thankful submission that no part of them was 
 owing to any misconduct on her part, — that ought to have 
 consoled me ; but it was my first great sorrow and disap- 
 pointment, and, like the spoiled child of fortune, I took 
 her reverses of fortune so desperately to heart that I 
 seldom awoke in the morning without finding my pillow 
 wet with tears. I was most rebellious under this dispensa- 
 tion ; but it pleased God to send me sorrow in another 
 shape, coming not through human intercession, but directly 
 from His chastening hand ; and when that sorrow came, 
 though I did not feel less for Mrs. Taylor's blighted pros- 
 pects in life, the character of my grief was changed: it 
 ceased to be rebellious, and was subdued by a feeling of con- 
 scious impiety in having rebelled against the will of God. 
 
 The winter of this year (1816 and 1817) was quietly 
 and peacefully spent ; but as I have narrated it more 
 particularly in a short memoir of my beloved Grace, 
 written three months after her death, which happened on 
 the 16th of April, 1817,^ I shall not here repeat the details, 
 as the narrative contains more traits and characteristic 
 incidents of the last six months of Grace's life than my 
 memory would now enable me to supply. — Dated March 
 6, 1844 
 
 \_Letter to Miss Aikin, from Uliles Angus Fletcher. 
 
 " April 19, 1817. 
 
 " I write, at the desire of my dear and afflicted mother, to let 
 
 you know of the irreparable loss we have sustained. It is not 
 
 yet three weeks since our dear Grace was attacked by a fever, 
 
 which soon showed itself to be typhus. The progress of the 
 
 1 See page 341. 
 
ARRIVAL AT PARK HALL. 125 
 
 disease was rapid, but Doctors Gregory and Thomson said it 
 was not attended with any peculiarly bad symptom. On Sunday 
 last she was much better, and on Tuesday so well as to allow 
 me, with some comfort, to set out upon the Western Circuit. 
 On Wednesday she became rapidly worse, and that evening 
 closed her sufferings and her blameless life. When I tell you 
 that we have lost Grace, I am sure I need not attempt to 
 describe the affliction of this unhappy family. My father 
 seems to have acquired strength from the necessity of exertion, 
 but my mother's grief is at present beyond the reach of con- 
 solation. Dr. Thomson was with Grace at the last moment ; 
 till all was over he had not abandoned hope; he even thought 
 some favorable symptoms appeared within the last hour, and 
 when she did expire, her departure was so quiet that he could 
 hardly observe the change. 
 
 " Will you communicate this afflicting intelligence to Mrs. 
 Barbauld and to Miss Benger? My mother will write to them 
 and to yourself when she becomes more composed. I trust all 
 those dear to you are well. — I am, yours faithfully, 
 
 " Miles A. Fletcher. 
 "North Castle Street."] 
 
 At the end of April, 1817, yre all went to Park Hall. 
 After such a sorrow, the return, to a place where Grace had 
 been so happy, so useful, and so beloved was a new trial ; 
 but the quietness and retirement of our country home was 
 greatly preferred by all of us to remaining in Edinburgh at 
 that time. 
 
 "We all tried to support each other in the best way we 
 could, and I had the comfort of seeing Mr. Fletcher regain 
 both health and spirits while occupied with his farm. We 
 were soon joined by our eldest and youngest daughters. 
 Mrs. Taylor was at that time living at Newcastle, where 
 dear Mary, under Mrs. Millar's kind escort from Yorkshire 
 (where she had spent the winter), joined her sister, and 
 they proceeded together to Edinburgh, after we had come 
 to Park Hall. 
 
126 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 [Letters from and to Mrs. Fletcher on the subject of 
 Grace's Death and Character. 
 
 To her daughter Mary. 
 
 "Park Hall, April 27, 1817. 
 " Papa, Margaret, Angus, and I, "with Robertson and little 
 Spinky, arrived here safe and well at 8 o'clock last night. It 
 ■was a fine day ; and if we could have enjoyed anything, it 
 would have been the mildness of the air, the freshness and 
 verdure of the country, and the beauty of the setting sun and 
 ■western sky. We have had the only refreshing sleep that we 
 have got for nearly a month past, for having all walked for 
 several miles at different parts of the road, we were much 
 fatigued. We have been sauntei-ing about for three or four 
 hours this morning in one of the brightest and warmest days 
 I ever remember at this season. The little shrubbery that 
 Angus, you and I planted, is thriving well, the garden in good 
 order, and the Ayrshire rose, clematis, and woodbine in most 
 luxuriant beauty. The woodbine near the little parlor window 
 was planted by our darling Grace, when we came here on the 15th 
 of June, 1813. You and Bessy will remember that we all 
 arrived late on the night of the l4th, I and my four dear girls. 
 It seems strange to me now that we did not then think our- 
 selves the very happiest of human beings. I think we did 
 enjoy the blessings of each other's affection, but we did not 
 prize it half enough. What would we not now give to be as 
 happy as we were on that 14th of June! These reflections, 
 my dearest Mary, have no other use than to make us deeply 
 and sensibly thankful for what remains to us. They cannot 
 recall what we have lost. Tell dearest Mrs Millar that Park 
 Hall is not gloomy, nor does it recall half so many painful and 
 heart-breaking recollections as the house in Castle Street did, 
 where the sound of her mournful and delirious voice was never 
 absent from my mind one moment. She is here indeed, and 
 must be canied everywhere in my heart, as long as it shall 
 beat; but she is here, tranquil and happy, such as I saw her 
 two years ago when she arrived from London. Your father's 
 health will be greatly improved by coming here, and so will 
 
LETTER FROM REV. J. CLOWES. 127 
 
 dear Margaret's, whose paleness and melancholy have sometimes 
 alarmed me, though she has made the most wonderful efforts to 
 support us all. I have had a very excellent and gratifying 
 letter from Miss Clavering, and indeed if sympathy could have 
 availed us, we have met with more than I can tell you. It 
 has been soothing, as a testimony to the virtues of your sister, 
 which, modest and unobtrusive as they were, seem to have 
 been noted in a remarkable degree. My dear child, do not 
 afflict yourself about us : you will find your father and me 
 wonderfully composed, and your and Bessy's coming is a joyful 
 anticipation to us all. We long, too, to see dear httle Archy 
 also." 
 
 Copy of a Letter from the Rev. J. Clowes to Mrs. Fletcher, 
 on Grace's Death. 
 
 "Manchester, May IZ, \2>Vl . 
 "My dear Madam, — A few days ago our excellent friend 
 Miss Kennedy brought me a letter which she had lately 
 received from you, from which I soon perceived that your pen 
 was dipped in tears, and that you rank at present amongst the 
 number of those blessed ones who are distinguished by the holy 
 title of mourners in Zion. L^-me not then be thought an 
 impertinent intruder into the sanctuary of your sorrows, if I 
 wish "on this occasion to mingle my tears with yours, by 
 entering into partnership with you, both in your afflictions and 
 in all those heavenly consolations which the Father of Mercies 
 never fails to mix in the cup of His afflicted children. Charity, 
 we know, which is the spirit of heaven, is never so happy as 
 in the opportunity of pouring into the troubled bosom the oil 
 of joy and gladness, and we know at the same time that this 
 oil comes only from the God of heaven, whose high and holy 
 name is Jesus Christ. I might therefore say to you, as the 
 king of Israel said to a mourner in his day, ' If the Lord do 
 not help thee, whence should I help thee ? ' Nor should I con- 
 ceive that the words contained anything of repulsion or of dis- 
 couragement, for is not our God a present help in trouble, and 
 do not all His dispensations as well as His declarations prove 
 Him to be so ? Is He not also above all trouble, and this in 
 
128 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 
 
 such a sort, that He not only controls it, by saying to its 
 waves, ' Hitherto shall ye go, and no further? ' but He also 
 compels it to administer to His own purposes of blessing, so 
 that every trouble ojjens the gate of some new joy, which 
 otherwise coixld neither have been seen nor tasted. I please 
 and flatter myself with thinking that you have already ex- 
 perienced the truth of this sentiment, and that even in the loss 
 of your dear child (if it may be called a loss) you have found 
 a more than proportionable gain, through the connnunication 
 and admission of some heretofore unknown consolation. And 
 how do you know but that your dear child may have been the 
 minister of that consolation? We cannot indeed see with our 
 bodily eyes that this has been the case, but the eye of faith 
 we know possesses a more quick and penetrating vision, and 
 being enlightened by the light of this eternal truth, sees things 
 as they are, not as they appear to be. To the eye of faith 
 therefore the invisible world is near and visible as this world 
 is to the eye of the body, and therefore it sees all that the 
 Word of God has revealed respecting that invisible world, and 
 how the souls or spirits of the deceased are still alive, even 
 more alive than when in the material body, and also are still 
 near to those they loved and by whom they were loved, and 
 even nearer than heretofore ; and further, that they are 
 endowed with greater power, as well as stronger inclination 
 to comfort, support, and protect those whom they have left 
 behind them. Jesus Chiist accordingly informs His disciples, 
 previous to his departure out of the world, ' It is expedient 
 for you that I go away, for if I go not away, the Comforter 
 will not come unto you ; but if I go away I will send Him unto 
 you:' and again, 'I go away and come again unto you;' 
 thus instructing them that although He was leaving them as 
 to bodily presence, yet He would still be virtually and really 
 present with them as a Holy Comforter, to guide, protect, 
 and console them. Doubt not therefore, my dear madam, that 
 ■what was true respecting Jesus Christ is true also respecting 
 His children, so that when they quit this world they enter 
 immediately into a state of being in which the capacity of 
 intercourse and of blessing is indefinitely increased. In devout 
 prayer that you may feel all the comfort of this sentiment, and 
 
LETTER FROM JOANNA BAILLIE. 129 
 
 still enjoy both the presence and the society of your beloved 
 child, I remain, dear Madam, affectionately yours, 
 
 "J. Clowes." 
 
 Joanna Baillie to Mrs. Fletcher. 
 
 ''June Both, 181T. 
 " I -wrote to our friend Miss Millar some considerable time 
 after your severe loss, to inquire for you and Mr. Fletcher and 
 the family, and had the satisfaction to hear by her answer as 
 good an account of you as I could expect. May I now be 
 permitted to make inquiries immediately of yourself.!" — not, 
 however, expecting an answer from your own pen , if it should 
 be painful to you, but only hoping that Mrs. Taylor (who, I 
 learn, is with you), or some member of the family, will have 
 the goodness to send me a few lines. Your sorrow for the 
 loss of a child so excellent in head, heart, temper, — in every- 
 thing that is most desirable in one of God's children, — has 
 been sympathized with in no common degree. It has been a 
 sensation deeply felt by many, who on their own account also 
 lamented the sad event. I have never known any young per- 
 son so universally admired and beloved, and few, I believe, have 
 lived in the world, unconnected with any remarkable circum- 
 stance, that will be so long and s^, tenderly remembered. This 
 is soothing to your grief; and with the greatest of all consola- 
 tion — the hopes of rehgion — and the family blessings that are 
 spared to you still, your heart cannot be desolate, but must be 
 comforted. May you indeed feel every comfort and consolation 
 that your heavy affliction will admit ! My sister begs to join 
 me in condolence and all kind wishes to you and Mr. Fletcher, 
 Mrs. Taylor, and all the family. I hoped to have heard of you 
 last week by Mrs. Barbauld, but I was prevented from going to 
 Newington, which I regretted. Dr. Aikin's recovery from 
 such a decided palsy, a recovery so speedy and so complete, at 
 his advanced age, is extraordinary. Mrs. Barbauld's spirits 
 are quite raised by it, for at the first, I understand, she 
 was like one stunned and knocked down. How few brothers 
 and sisters have been to one another what they have been 
 through so long a course of years ! When they must part, it 
 will be a dismal thing- for the survivor. ' ' 
 
130 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 From Mrs. Barhauld, on G. F.'s death, to her Mother, 1817. 
 
 " It has been the impulse of my heart to write to you, and 
 yet I hardly know how. What can I say, how can I express 
 the shock this awful, this most affecting event has given me, 
 has given all of us? How are the fairest hopes destroyed, 
 how are the dearest ties severed ! when was the uncertainty 
 of life, and all its hopes, exemplified in a more solemn manner? 
 Dear Grace? I had hoped myself some time, perhaps this 
 summer, to see more of her, to see her open the stores of her 
 mind, to see the modest flower expand and show all its lustre; 
 but it is shut up for ever here, to blow, I trust, in a brighter 
 climate. Young as she was, she has seen perhaps the best of 
 life. Like Young's Narcissa, ' she sparkled, was exhaled, and 
 went to heaven.' No long sickness to wear the mind as well 
 as the body; none of the decays incident to a more advanced 
 period; she leaves life, it is true, in all its freshness, but with- 
 out having tasted its cares or sorrows. And is it not something 
 to have raised and cultivated such a mind? Is she not fitter 
 for another state, with higher powers than many a one who 
 has passed sixty years of a drowsy existence? Oh, but I think 
 I hear you say, the mother's heart must bleed. It must ; I 
 know it. God comfort you, my dear Mrs. Fletcher, and Mr. 
 Fletcher, and all your family ! Your mind will turn, I know 
 it will, to the promising children yon still have. One jewel 
 has fallen from your maternal crown, but many remain; you 
 are still rich. May God enable you to bear what He has laid 
 upon you ! " 
 
 To Mrs. Stark. 
 
 "Park Hall, April mh, 1817. 
 *' My dear Friend, — I do know what you have all felt for 
 us, for you were among the few who knew what we have lost. 
 Your kindness in offering to come to me at that dreadful time 
 will never be forgotten. Time may and will do much, not in 
 removing her from our hearts, but in enabling us to take an 
 interest in pi-esent things, and softening those recollections 
 which are now so overpowering. Even now you — no, not you, 
 
LE TTERS TO MRS. STARK AND MISS AIKIN. 131 
 
 bat those who do not know what gi'ief is; grief made up of 
 tenderness and affectionate sorrow without one atom of bitter- 
 ness — would be astonished at our composure, and doubt whether 
 we had yet begun to feel. Yes, my dear friend, I must see 
 you at Park Hall. Perhaps you can come to us the latter end 
 of next week, when Mr. Fletcher and my sons return to Edin- 
 burgh to meet Bessy and Mary, who are to join us here about 
 the 16th of May. Bessy and her children are to spend the 
 summer with us, and our poor Mary needs the comfort of her 
 home, such as it now is. She is a very precious child, and 
 Margaret — my generous, kind-hearted Margaret — what should 
 we have done without her ? God Almighty bless you! Write 
 to me, dear friend. — Yours, E. Fletchek." 
 
 From Mrs. Fletcher to Miss Aikin. 
 
 " Park Hall, June 23d, 1817. 
 
 " If I were to delay writing to my dear Miss Aikin till my 
 paper should be unblotted by my tears, I know not when I 
 should write to her. 
 
 " I have to the utmost of my power, both for my own sake 
 and for the sake of those who are very dear to me, resisted all 
 unreasonable indulgence of grief. I have endeavored to 
 derive consolation from all those,^x5hsiderations which you and 
 the rest of my affectionate and sympathizing friends have 
 suggested — from the elevation of her character, from her 
 purity, sweetness, and heavenly-mindedness ; but there is so 
 much tenderness associated with every recollection of her life, 
 that my very pleasures are now so many sorrows, since she can 
 no longer share them with me. Perhaps, there never was a 
 human being so much alive to enjoyment. This is a feeling 
 of thankfulness of which nothing can deprive me — the un- 
 alloyed happiness of her life. There never was one so ardent 
 and so sensitive who knew so little sorrow. Had she lived, 
 this uninterrupted happiness, could not have continued, but 
 this, while it ought to reconcile me to the dispensations of 
 Providence, and while it takes from my loss all its bitterness, 
 adds powerfully to the tenderness of my regrets. The energy 
 and activity of her mind during the last six months of her 
 
132 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 life were remarkable. She had applied herself diligently to 
 Italian literature. She painted two portraits, one the copy of 
 a picture of young Wolfe Tone, and one of her father, which 
 last however she did not live to finish. She passed several 
 hours during three days of the week in the superintendence of 
 a Female Lancasterian School, and enlivened our domestic 
 circle by her invariable sweetness and cheerfulness of temper. 
 At her special request (made in consideration of her father's 
 delicate state of health) we neither gave nor accepted, of invi- 
 tations to large parties during the whole winter, but enjoyed 
 the society of more intimate friends. She was truly grateful 
 for your distinguished kindness, and loved you with the sin- 
 cerest affection. With what pleasure and exultation she anti- 
 cipated the success of your historical work, and how proud 
 she was of your friendship ! She used to speak of her visit at 
 Stoke Newington as the most gratifying period of her life, and 
 repeatedly thanked me the very week before she was taken 
 ill for having promoted that journey ; but home and home 
 affections were her delights. The support I received from my 
 dear Margaret during that miserable fortnight can never be 
 described. She is worthy of your regard, worthy of having 
 had such a sister."] 
 
 Miss Clavering and her brothers paid us a visit that 
 summer at Park Hall, 1817, and arrangements were made 
 for her marriage to our dear son Miles, which was to take 
 place in the December following. Miles's tenderness of 
 feeling came out towards me in a marked manner during 
 this mournftd summer, and contributed much to soothe my 
 grief. 
 
PART III. 
 
 On the 27tli December, 1817, Miles and Miss Clavering 
 were married at Ardincaple Castle, Lord John Campbell's 
 residence. Lady Augusta Clavering and her daughter had 
 lived there for some years- 
 Miles took his very lovely bride from this lordly castle 
 to his father's homely dwelling at Park Hall, where they 
 remained until the winter Session began, when they took 
 possession of the house in Queen Street which had been 
 settled on them as part of the dowry by Lady Augusta, 
 who showed great kindness to and sympathy with her 
 daughter in this marriage of affection. 
 
 We mixed little that winter, of 1817-18 in general 
 society, and went as early as we could to spend the last 
 summer we were to be at Park Hall. Mr. Fletcher found 
 it was most expedient to part with that property. It 
 involved him in money difficulties, having now more claims 
 upon him than he could easily meet. Miles, on whose 
 account he chiefly wished to retain this estate, assisted me 
 much in persuading his father to sell it ; and we both 
 rejoiced in the repose of mind which was gained by parting 
 with this favorite but expensive farm. 
 
 My husband continued to take the liveliest interest 
 in public affairs, and employed his daughters by turns 
 in writing for him, both on Burgh Reform and other 
 subjects, to his dictation, after he gave up his clerk. In 
 
134 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 
 
 this way he was of use to many poor clients who consulted 
 him, and prevented many lawsuits by advising them to 
 arrange their affairs' by arbitration. And here I must 
 remark, how much it contributes to happiness and indepen- 
 dence of mind in aged persons to have some object of 
 science or literature that lightens the lassitude of daily life, 
 and gives animation to existence beyond the family circle, 
 when age or infirmity prevents any active participation 
 either in the business or the pleasures of life. 
 
 The science of politics, which, according to my husband's 
 views, may be called the wellbeing of mankind on earth, 
 when unmixed with sordid or selfish aims, seems to me to 
 elevate the mind above every other science. I mean that 
 enlarged view of political wisdom which is unfettered by 
 party spirit, untainted by selfish or personal views, and 
 has its foundation in a profound love of mankind, and a 
 desire to promote, not only their happiness, but their moral 
 and spiritual good, by keeping justice and mercy constantly 
 in view. Such were my husband's politics ; and neither 
 age nor infirmity abated the interest he took in every 
 measure which had public good and enlightened freedom for 
 its object. 
 
 [These remarks were written in 1844 ; and such being her 
 feeling about my father's public life, it may be imagined with 
 what delight she afterwards read the cordial tribute to his 
 character in Cockburn's " Life of Jeffrey," and also in the 
 " Memorials of his Time." I seem to see her countenance before 
 me, as one of my brightest recollections, when I read to her, 
 in May, 1856, the following sentence fi'om the 261st page of 
 Lord Cockburn's book: — " The pure and hei'oic Fletcher knew 
 not what jealousy was, and would have cheered on a personal 
 enemy, if he had had one, provided he was going before him in 
 the public cause." 
 
 In looking back on our father's dignified and benevolent old 
 age, I think none of his children can recollect a single expression 
 
LONDON SOCIETY, MRS. FRY AND NEWGATE. 135 
 
 of wounded pride or disappointed ambition escaping from him 
 in the ahnost daily discussion of public events, great or small, 
 ■which took place in our family circle. 
 
 During the few years we remained in Edinburgh after the 
 first great sorrow of her life, Grace's death, our mother with- 
 drew in great measure from general society and large parties, 
 and gave the time and strength thus gained to an increased 
 occupation among the poor and needy. During this time 
 she gave much time to attendance at the office of the Beg- 
 gars' Society, where the benevolent John Forbes (afterwards 
 Lord Medwyn) and she first came into close personal acquaint- 
 ance. 
 
 My mother used to say it was very pleasant to her to see 
 the good Tories she met there smile upon her in her endeavors 
 to do good, and how much even party rancor died away in the 
 common interest felt in the sufferings of the poor.] 
 
 During this summer of 1819, Margaret, Mary, and I 
 went to London; Mr. Fletcher preferred remaining at 
 Tadcaster. We saw many very interesting people. We 
 passed some days of great interest with dear Mrs. Barbauld 
 at Stoke Newington, admiring her for her genius, and 
 loving her for the truthfulness and kindliness of her dis- 
 position and the sweetness of her manners. We had also 
 the privilege of passing some days with Joanna Baillie and 
 her sister, at Hampstead. The remarkable simplicity of 
 Joanna's manners, and entire absence of all pretension, 
 struck my daughters much, and while they were awed by 
 the meekness with which she bore her faculties, they 
 admired and loved her. Mrs. Opie and Jane Porter also 
 passed before us, as dissolving views ; along with the 
 Smiths of " The Eejected Addresses," the Miss Berry s and 
 Sir Lumley Skeffingtons of the day. It was on this visit 
 to London that we had the happiness to pass some hours in 
 Newgate with Mrs. Fry. We heard her read and expound 
 to the female prisoners the third chapter of St. John's 
 
136 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Gospel. Her voice was melody itself, and tlie earnest 
 sweetness with which she explained the doctrine of re- 
 generation to her attentive hearers found its way directly 
 to their hearts ; many of them shed tears, and all were 
 attentive and appeared deeply interested. She conducted 
 us through the different wards. The women flocked round 
 her, several of them telling her their little wants, and 
 expressing their gratitude for what she had told them. 
 She lent a kindly ear to their complaints, and it was plain 
 her sympathy and kindness did them good. The faces 
 of many who did not speak revealed this. Robert Owen, 
 the notorious socialist, accompanied us to Newgate. He 
 was then intimate with Mrs. Fry, and we had known him 
 for many years. He had always appeared to us a benev- 
 olent and zealous reformer, and we bore with the intense 
 though quiet egotism of his conversation from the belief 
 that he had the good of his fellow-creatures at heart. He 
 had not then openly avowed those opinions, so fatal to 
 moral and religious truth and happiness, which he has 
 since so unfortunately promulgated. It would be mifair 
 perhaps to refuse him credit for wishing to promote the 
 present good of mankind, but when he cannot but perceive 
 that a consideration for present good, even when accom- 
 panied by a belief in a Divine Judge, is not sufficient to 
 enable man to regulate his passions and abstain from evil, 
 how is it likely that when those restraints are removed, as 
 Owen desires, the sovereignty of reason alone, a vegetable 
 diet, and one loose garment, will transform the human race, 
 as he expects, from misery to happiness ? 
 
 The same day we visited Newgate Robert Owen took us 
 to call on William Godwin, the celebrated author of " Politi- 
 cal Justice." Godwin, then an interesting-looking old man, 
 lived at a small bookseller's shop on Ludgate Hill, with a 
 figure of ^sop above the door. "We sat half an hour with 
 
LORD ERSKINE'S VISIT TO EDINBURGH. 137 
 
 this mild philosoplier. His countenance was benevolent, 
 as were his writings. Thirty years before the time we saw 
 him, his " Political Justice " was thought to have allayed 
 the insurrectionary fever produced, as some imagined, by 
 the writings of Thomas Paine ; but now that the days of 
 alarm were over, Godwin was more known as the author 
 of " Caleb Williams " and " St. Leon " than as a political 
 writer. He had a beautiful portrait of Mary Wollstone- 
 craft, by Opie, above the chimney-piece of his little parlor. 
 We were pleased with our interview with this distinguished 
 man and very eloquent writer. 
 
 We all rejoined Mr. Fletcher, well satisfied with the 
 sights of London and its environs. Dear Mary remained 
 that winter with our aunt. 
 
 \_To her daughter Mary from E. F. 
 
 " Edinburgh, January, 1820. 
 
 " We despatched the Scotsman for you on Saturday, which 
 would afford you much amusement. We have been greatly 
 complimented and congratulated by our friends on your father's 
 appearance at the meeting in honor of Lord Erskine's arrival 
 in Edinburgh. Miles says tha:t when his father appeared there 
 on the platform there were thunders of applause, and his 
 speech was much cheered, especially that part of it relating to 
 his being one of the thirty-eight who had the honor of voting 
 for the Honorable Henry Erskine, when he was expelled from 
 the Deanship of the Faculty of Advocates because he presided 
 at a public meeting held to petition against the continuation of 
 the war. 
 
 " On Friday morning we were honored by a visit from Lord 
 Erskine. He sat with us more than an hour, and was very 
 agreeable and entertaining. He has a strong family Hkeness 
 to his late brother, ^ but is less gay, bland, and engaging : his 
 countenance bears strong marks of a life of great emotion, — 
 of much wear and tear. He is less courteous than his brother 
 1 Honorable Henry Erskine. 
 
138 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 ITenry ; his manners are plainer. We talked of the State trials 
 in which he was formerly engaged. He asked me if I had 
 ever read his speech on the trial of Williams, the publisher of 
 Paine's ' Age of Reason.' He was engaged by the Society 
 for the Prevention of Vice as counsel for the prosecution. He 
 got a verdict against Williams, which .proved, he said, that there 
 was no occasion to make new laws against blasphemous publi- 
 cations. A few days after the trial, as he was walking through 
 llolborn, a woman seized him by the skirts of his coat, and 
 dragged him to a miserable room, where Williams the book- 
 seller was laid on a sick-bed with three children in the confluent 
 small-pox. He was so much struck with the poverty and 
 wretchedness of the man's condition that he wrote to the Society 
 for the Prevention of Vice, telling them that, a^s they had 
 gained a verdict prohibiting the sale of Paine's blasphemous 
 book, now there was a noble opportunity to show a truly 
 Christian spirit, by praying the Court to mitigate the punish- 
 ment of this miserable man, already afflicted with disease and 
 poverty. The Society, he said, wrote him a letter full of 
 compliments, but declined' to rehnquish their victim. The 
 next day their agent called on Lord Erskine with a brief and 
 fee, desiring him to crave the judgment of the Court upon 
 Williams. He refused to take the fee, and asking for his 
 brief, he drew his pen through the retainer as counsel for that 
 Society, because ' they loved judgment rather than mercy.' He 
 said he had lately found some of his speeches on this trial in 
 a pedlar's basket, and he left us one of them. It is a most 
 eloquent defence of (_ hristianity from the attacks of infidels. I 
 should mention that Williams was sentenced to two years' 
 impi'isonment." 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 ^^ February, 1820. 
 
 " Lord Erskine called M'ith Lord Buchan on Saturday and 
 sat a long time. He has a fund of amusing political anecdote. 
 It was he who introduced the present King to Lady Hertford ; 
 and it is, he saj-s, to this unfortunate introduction that many 
 of the disastrous measures of the Regency are owing, for she 
 
SUMMER AT CALLANDER. 139 
 
 governs tlie King with despotic sway. When Lady Hugh Sey- 
 mour died, she left the guardianship of her only daughter to 
 Mrs. Fitzherbert. The testamentary guardian applied to Lord 
 Eldon as Chancellor to take the child from Mrs. Fitzherbert, 
 on the ground of her being a Roman Catholic. Lord Eldon 
 pronounced judgment in favor of this separation, it being 
 contrary to the law of England that a Catholic should be 
 appointed guardian to a Protestant child. The Prince Regent 
 sent for Lord Erskine, and said that it would be the death 
 of Mrs. Fitzherbert and the child if they were separated. 
 Lord Erskine advised the Prince to apply to Lady Hertford 
 to use her influence with her husband, the eldest uncle of the 
 child, to allow her to remain with Mrs. Fitzherbert. He did 
 so, and from this accidental acquaintance has arisen the influ- 
 ence Lady Hertford has obtained over the mind of his present 
 Majesty. This is a curious piece of secret Court history. Lord 
 Erskine attributes to this his Majesty's change of politics, the 
 continuance of the French war, and in short all the disastrous 
 measures of the Regency."] 
 
 As the spring approaclied, now* that we were free of 
 Park Hall, and also of the Coilrt of Session, we were more 
 able to wander, and our excellent friend Mrs. Grant of Lag- 
 gan recommended Callander to us as a pleasant residence 
 within easy reach of many Highland beauties ; and early in 
 the summer of 1820 we took a house called the Old Manse 
 at Callander. 
 
 I think it w&s the end of June, 1820, that we took pos- 
 session of our summer quarters. I remember the beauty 
 and courtesy of our hostess, Mrs. Campbell, a young widow, 
 impressed us favorably on our first arrival, and the appear- 
 ance of her house was more comfortable-looking than we 
 expected to meet with in those days. There was a little 
 green bank sloping down to the clear bright waters of 
 the river Teith, iu front of the house. The course of that 
 beautiful river was more flowing and gentle at that place 
 than either above or below our house, but still it had 
 
140 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 enough of life " to discourse most eloquent music," and we 
 took it to our hearts at once. We were then a large family 
 party, and our one spare room was seldom untenanted. 
 "We took exploring walks daily when the weather improved, 
 and each selected a favorite seat at the Roman Camp, a 
 place full of wooded knolls and chequered shade, a short 
 distance from the town of Callander, then, before railway 
 days, a very primitive Border Highland village. 
 
 Our first visitor there was dear Mary Grant, who came 
 to refresh her soul in the Highland air she loved so dearly. 
 She was at that time more able to enjoy than I ever remem- 
 ber to have known her. There had been some respite in 
 the family sorrows, and whether in grief or joy she was 
 equally welcome to all of us. 
 
 Our family party was often enlivened by the arrival of 
 agreeable English and American strangers, introduced to 
 us by different friends. I think it was that year we first 
 became acquainted with George Ticknor,^ from Boston, U. S., 
 and a friend of his, Mr. Cogswell. We thought them 
 among the most cultivated and agreeable Americans we 
 had ever known, and have since kept up our friendship 
 by occasional correspondence with Mr. Ticknor. We also 
 saw a good deal of Mrs. Smith of Coniston, and " the 
 Joanna" and her sister, Mrs. Agnes Baillie, from Hamp- 
 stead, who were at Callander part of that summer, and 
 joined us in many exploring expeditions. 
 
 I should not take leave of this summer without recording 
 our pleasant intercourse with Farmer Buchanan, whose 
 character had more of the Lowland than of the Highland 
 type. He united the virtues of both — great cultivation 
 and independence, with the courtesy of Highland manners. 
 He was a very fine specimen of human nature, and we used 
 to enjoy a talk with him much when he was binding up 
 
 1 Author of " Life of Prescott," and " History of Spanish Literature." 
 
SUMMER AT CALLANDER. 141 
 
 his sheaves, or when the labors of the day were over he 
 returned to his cottage and the enjoyment of his books. 
 His knowledge of what was passing in the literary world 
 was kept up by his five sons, who had all been distinguished 
 students at Glasgow College. The only one who had 
 not shown any thirst for knowledge assisted him in his 
 farm. The others had all been sent off with their winter 
 supply of potatoes and meal to Glasgow, where, after the 
 first year, they never cost their parents anything, being able 
 to save by summer private tuition what defrayed their 
 expenses in winter. Farmer Buchanan's eldest son, who 
 afterwards became Professor of Logic at Glasgow College, 
 was, at the time I speak of, minister of Peebles, and came 
 during the summer to visit his parents, and delight himself 
 in his old haunts about Callander. We heard him preach a 
 very beautiful sermon during this visit in the parish church 
 of Callander, and it was delightful to see and to sympathize 
 with the joy of the venerable Elder on this occasion, and to 
 watch his face in church. 
 
 One of the old man's chief pleasures we found to be 
 reading Milton, and so gr^at a master was he of Gaelic 
 lore that he had translated several books of Paradise Lost 
 into Gaelic verse. Mr. Fletcher took to his Gaelic studies 
 again this summer with great zest, and we concluded the 
 pleasures of the summer by paying some visits to old friends 
 in Argyleshire, accompanied by our youngest son and daugh- 
 ter, who enjoyed this introduction to the land of their 
 fathers as much as we could possibly desire. They were 
 then in the freshness of their youth, and were pronounced 
 by their Highland kinsmen to be worthy representatives of 
 the clan. 
 
142- AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 \_Letter to Mrs. Stark, Edinburgh., 1820, after the Callander 
 summer. 
 
 "Mr. Fletclier had indeed a gi-eat triumph in making us com- 
 plete converts to what we used to think his partial estimate of 
 the Highland character. There is a kind of chivalrous romance 
 in it of which I had before no conception. I think this arises 
 from the absence of those gainful speculations which are open 
 to the operative and middling classes of the English and 
 Lowland Scotch. The gentry in the Highlands are not a bit 
 higher-toned than the same class elsewhere. It is the Highland 
 grazier and his clansmen the shepherds who count kindred to 
 men of high degree, and dwell on the ancient traditions of their 
 clan, till the whole character is elevated. A poor Highlander 
 has no counteraction to those feelings of hospitahty by which 
 he is so much distinguished. This graceful quality is not 
 checked by sordid calculation of any kind, not even by making 
 a provision for his own old age; he relies with affectionate 
 confidence on the provision his children will make for him, 
 when he can no longer climb the hill or gather the sheep into 
 the fold. The respect paid to old age is one of the most 
 beautiful features of the primitive state of society. Age is 
 not merely tolerated, but it is honored. I saw a woman of 
 near eighty livmg in a neat cottage, with an acre of land and 
 a cow, purchased for her by five sons, who were simply High- 
 land shepherds. Proud she was, and well might she be so, of 
 her little possession. I never saw so much real virtue in hum- 
 ble life as this view of society aifoi'ded me. It made me detest 
 poor-rates more than ever, and manufacturing districts ; it 
 made me, I fancy, a bad political economist, but a greater lover 
 than ever of my fellow-creatures." 
 
 From Mrs. Wolfe Tone Wilson to Mrs. Fletcher. 
 
 " George Town, September 23d, 1820. 
 "Yes, my beloved friend, you judge like yourself — truly, 
 nobly, delicately. The warmth and sincerity of my affection for 
 you can never alter: it was sealed by sympathy; but before that 
 
LETTER FROM MRS. WILSON. 143 
 
 heart-rending sympathy existed, when you could sympathize with 
 sorrow without having tasted it, my love to you was founded 
 on esteem, on admiration of the pure and generous loveliness 
 of your mind, and its expanded, enlightened benevolence. 
 Speaking of you one day with Eliza Wilkes, I was observing 
 how well your appearance corresponded to your character, and, 
 amongst other follies, I said you were a full-blooded animal 
 of generous breed. Eliza laughed, and said you really had the 
 qualities of a noble horse. I observed how delightful it would 
 be to investigate the world mounted on a horse of your chai'ac- 
 ter. ' Oh,' said Eliza, ' indeed I could never ride Mrs. Fletcher.' 
 ' Ride Mrs. Fletcher ! ride Mrs. Fletcher ! ! ' the sound pulled 
 up my ideas. Eliza went on saying, if you were a horse she 
 would put you in a park of clover. . . I instantly sprang upon 
 you, and declared you should never be condemned to uselessness 
 and plenty, and oh, what a scamper I took with you through the 
 universe ! ] " ' 
 
 The summer of 1821 we spent very pleasantly at Conis- 
 ton, in Mrs. Smith's cottage, opposite the gate of Tent Lodge, 
 which we had secured for three months. This second 
 residence at the Lakes, at the distance of fifteen years, 
 renewed our admiration and^'Selight in the scenery of that 
 district. 
 
 I was then in vigorous health, and I remember, in a 
 pony expedition my two daughters and I took, escorted 
 by Joseph Harden, I generally rode foremost of the party, 
 by Hard Knot and Wry Nose to Wast Water, Calder 
 
 1 Mrs. Wolfe Tone Wilson was one of my mother's very dear friends, 
 and she says of her in a letter to me: "I admired and loved her for the 
 union of magnanimity and tenderness she possessed, and it will always be a 
 pleasing reflection to me that I believe my sympathy in all she had done 
 and suffered was some comfort to her when she came into a land of 
 strangers." 
 
 This lady was the widow of Theobald Wolfe Tone, and lived in Paris till 
 the return of the Bourbons, when she and her son went to America. She 
 married at this time her generous friend, Mr. Wilson, who gave up his 
 country and friends for her sake. 
 
144 AUTOBIOGJRAPHY. 
 
 Abbey, Buttermere. and Borrowdale, and back to Coniston 
 across the Stake, which was thought, in those days, a 
 perilous adventure for female equestrians. It was upon 
 that expedition that I heard, with a degree of surprise 
 that amused me at the time, that the landlady at Calder 
 Bridge designated me as the " old lady." It was a whole- 
 some truth that flashed upon me : I was then fifty-one, 
 and had not begun to think myself an old woman. Our 
 visit to Seathwaite and the Duddon on this occasion 
 interested us much. Wordswort|i's Notes to his " Sonnets 
 on the Duddon " had made us acquainted with the simple 
 annals of Robert Walker, who exercised the office of priest, 
 schoolmaster, will-maker, wool- spinner, and brewer of ale 
 for the whole village. Mrs. Smith's kindness and hospi- 
 tality towards us could not be exceeded. She had many 
 jokes with my daughters at my expense, as she thought I 
 exceeded in attempting the duties of hospitality in so small 
 a dwelling. Her graceful wit amused me, but did not 
 improve me on the points she desired — exclusiveness as to 
 society. She loved my children, and I was not jealous to see 
 them more than rival me in her affection and admiration. 
 
 It was this summer we became intimate with Mrs. George 
 Martin and her daughter, Mrs. Buckle. The latter was 
 then lately married, and, with her husband and mother, en- 
 joying a first acquaintance with the Lake district. The 
 ladies were most agreeable and cultivated people. They 
 were nearly connected with the good old Whig Member for 
 Tewkesbury, James Martin. 
 
 The intimacy formed at this time led to much after- 
 intercourse and enjoyment to my daughters, who paid 
 them frequent visits in Gloucestershire, and saw many 
 interesting places and people in a part of England they 
 had before been unacquainted with. Many points of 
 sympathy attracted us to each other. They were not at 
 
MRS. CRAIK AND ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. 145 
 
 all political, but they were simple in their habits and 
 tastes, entirely free from that false estimate of things 
 which so many persons inherit who are born in a good 
 social position, and so many assume who are not so born, 
 and who think it necessary to keep up appearances at all 
 times and seasons, and thus lose a great deal of innocent 
 enjoyment. Mrs. Buckle had great artistic powers, and 
 her mother was an excellent botanist, and one of the most 
 refined, unselfish, and cultivated persons we have ever 
 known, a very fine type of the English lady of the old 
 school. 
 
 It was during this summer of 1821 I heard of the 
 sudden death of one of my oldest and dearest Manor 
 School friends, Mrs. Craik of Arbigland. She was a 
 woman of excellent talents and very warm affections. We 
 loved each other truly at school, and ever after cultivated 
 a friendship which contributed much to each other's hap- 
 piness. We had the comfort to know the same feeling 
 descended to our children. After her marriage to Mr. Craik 
 of Arbigland (a beautiful place on the Solway, about fifteen 
 miles from Dumfries), we fretpiently took that route either 
 to or from our visits to Yorkshire. It might be about the 
 year 1810 or 1812, when returning from a walk, that Mrs. 
 Craik dii*ected my attention to some young masons who 
 were engaged in the erection of some stone pillars of a new 
 gateway in the approach to the house of Arbigland. She 
 said, " One of these young men is, I do not say a Burns, but 
 certainly no inconsiderable poet ; you must find out which 
 it is." I looked for a few moments at each, while she was 
 speaking to them, and at once decided that the tall, 
 thoughtful, stalwart youth who gave respectful attention 
 to what she was saying was the poet of the party. It was 
 Allan Cunningham, and from that time he and I became 
 fast friends. I found some of his MS. songs on my table. 
 
146 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 when I went to my room at niglit. When he came to 
 Edinburgh to improve himself in his trade, we were able 
 to be of use to him in supplying him with books and giving 
 him introductions ; but he made his own way by his wisdom 
 and good sense, as well as by his talents, steadily and con- 
 tinuously. He was engaged at that time to marry an 
 excellent young woman well known to Mrs. Craik, and he 
 was soon able to fulfil his engagement; and a better wife 
 no poet ever had. Allan's career in London is well known. 
 He wisely secured for himself a certain income as Chan- 
 trey's secretary and the superintendent of his works, and 
 gave his leisure time to the cultivation of literature and 
 composition. 
 
 [ To Allan Cunningham. 
 
 " Edinburgh, April 15, 1820. 
 
 " My dear Sir, — You must not judge of the pleasure your 
 letter gave me by ray dilatoriness in answering it. You are 
 right in saying that I am interested in your pursuits, and 
 rejoice in your happiness. Of all the persons I saw in my last 
 summer's visit to London, I know not one whose temper of 
 mind, and condition altogether, pleased me so much as yours 
 did. I saw you pursuing an occupation the most elegant and 
 tasteful, I saw you high in the estimation of a man whose 
 genius you revere; your children were playing round you, 
 your wife had the countenance of a happy and contented 
 woman, your home bespoke comfort and respectability, and 
 all that you possessed you owed to your own talents and 
 industry. You preserved the erect independence of your char- 
 acter, and were the same honorable and unsophisticated being 
 as w'hen I first knew you. The stirrings of ambition you 
 speak of have rather stimulated than misled you. I hope they 
 will continue to spur you on, but never take the rein from the 
 hands of your better judgment. 
 
 " The information you give me of Mr. Chantrey's observations 
 in Italy, and your own comparison between his endowments and 
 those of the Roman artist, pleased and instructed me extremely. 
 
LETTER TO ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. 147 
 
 I never had an opportunity of seeing any of the works of 
 Canova but the one you showed me ; and certainly the impres- 
 sion it made was far short of that produced by the matchless 
 work of Mr. Chantrey, which we saw afterwards at Litchfield. 
 \ shall be glad to know if you have had leisure or inclination 
 to retouch and remodel your ' Geraldine.' Have you any 
 thoughts of visiting Scotland this summer? We have taken a 
 cottage on the banks of the Teith near Callander, where we go 
 the first week in June, and propose remaining there till October. 
 My address will be Mansfield, near Callander, Perthshire. We 
 shall be in the midst of that beautiful scenery described by 
 Sir Walter Scott. The King has done himself honor by con- 
 ferring the title on a man of genius. Mr. Campbell writes to 
 me that he has a poem on the anvil — but he is going to spend 
 the summer with his family on the banks of the Rhine, where 
 his imagination will be assisted by the magnificent scenery of 
 nature. Let us hear from you in Perthshire. Write to me of 
 your family, and of all that interests you. Remember me very 
 kindly to your amiable wife, and give my blessing to your 
 children. If I were nearer to them I would recommend them 
 to read Mrs. Bai-bauld's prose hymns, the best book I know 
 for cultivating devotional taste and feelings. Farewell, dear 
 Allan. Go on as you have Jaegun, and you need envy none of 
 the great ones of the earth. — I am, your faithful friend, 
 
 " Eliza Fletcher. 
 "Mr. Allan Cunmngham, 
 
 Eccleston Street, Pimlico, London." ] 
 
 Before Allan Cunningham left Dumfries I had introduced 
 Mr. Cromek to him, who was going to that district in 
 search of ballad lore ; and this led to the curious literary 
 fraud which my friend Allan confessed to Sir Walter Scott 
 about this time, when he was sitting for his bust to 
 Chantrey, and also to me, in an interesting letter, which I 
 have since returned to his family. In that letter, Allan 
 said that he was so piqued by Cromek's manner of receiv- 
 ing some of his own songs which he took to him, that he 
 
148 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 composed the ballads he had been employed by Cromek 
 to collect, and these actually form the greatest part of the 
 Nithsdale and Galloway songs. On hearing this, Sir 
 Walter courteously replied, " I always suspected this, Mr. 
 Cunningham ; they are far too good to be old." 
 
 The stirring public event of this summer was the 
 approaching Coronation of George the Fourth. Then 
 followed the tragic death of Caroline of Brunswick, whose 
 previous persecutions and death on the 7th August had 
 called forth the generous feeling of England, and the 
 popular burst of indignation against her husband found 
 an honest response even in the Tory heart of the graceful 
 lady of Tent Lodge, as well as among her tenants of the 
 cottage. It was well, perhaps, for the peace of our inter- 
 course that summer that such was the case. 
 
 Led by Mrs. Smith, who was a sort of queen at that 
 time of the society she lived in, we attended a ball at 
 Ambleside, annually given as the gaiety of the district, at 
 the Salutation Hotel, and testified our sense of Queen 
 Caroline's wrongs by going in somewhat grotesque mourn- 
 ing procured at the little town of Hawkshead. My 
 daughters have often since declared it was the most 
 amusing ball they ever attended. 
 
 My aunt Dawson's health was at that time so infirm that 
 Mr. Fletcher kindly projiosed that we should spend the 
 following winter at York, so as to prevent the necessity of 
 a divided family ; and this was rendered more easy as Angus 
 had been indulged with a foreign tour, after the conclu- 
 sion of his clerkship, and before entering on his professional 
 life as a solicitor. A house was taken for us in the Minster 
 Yard at York, where my husband and part of the family 
 established themselves after we left Coniston ; while I, with 
 my two unmarried daughters, went to pay a visit to my 
 dear old friend Miss Kennedy, near Manchester, and also 
 
MISS KENNEDY. — T. E. CURRIE. 149 
 
 to Mrs. Greg of Quarry Bank, in Cheshire, where, after the 
 lapse of many years, I found the same hospitality, benevo- 
 lence, and cultivation which had struck me many years 
 before during my first visit. The large family of boys and 
 girls had now grown up. The sons were travelled men, full 
 of pursuit and intelligence. Grandchildren were there to 
 enliven the scene of this patriarchal household ; death had 
 not then visited that happy home. 
 
 At Miss Kennedy's pleasant little villa I renewed my 
 intercourse with Dr. Henry and his agreeable wife, whom 
 I had known well in Edinburgh when he came to study 
 there, after his marriage to a niece of Miss Kennedy. 
 
 Miss Kennedy had also asked her favorite T. E. Currie 
 to meet us at her house. He was the youngest son of Dr. 
 Currie of Liverpool, the biographer of Burns ; and it was 
 a great pleasure to us to see our pet " Robin " (as we used 
 to call him, from his bright eyes and confiding nature) 
 expanded both in mind and form, from a somewhat silent 
 youth of eighteen into a most intelligent and agreeable 
 man of twenty-one. He was then a Cambridge student, 
 and accompanied us to Quarry Bank, to meet his honored 
 friend Professor Smyth of Cambridge, who was staying at 
 Quarry Bank at the time, and with whom our " Robin " was 
 evidently a great favorite. 
 
 We did not find the society of York comparable in point 
 of variety or intelligence to that of Edinburgh. We saw a 
 good deal of Sydney Smith, who was frequently in York 
 " for a short course of noise, dirt, and bad air," as he ex- 
 pressed it, and, as usual, he made incomparable mirth out 
 of my alleged love of revolutions ; and his society was 
 certainly a great alleviation to what there might be of 
 stagnation in the air of the cathedral city. Mr. Wrang- 
 ham and his family were also very agreeable ; and a 
 Highland family (the M'Leans of Coll) made a pleasant 
 
150 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 addition to the cii-cle that winter, besides being old friends 
 of ours. 
 
 \_From Mrs. Fletcher to Allan Cunningham. 
 
 HER REASONS ON PUBLIC GROUNDS FOR PREFERRING A BUST OF 
 SIR SAMUEL ROMILLY TO ONE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. 1822. 
 
 " My dear Allan, — I am exceedingly glad that you com- 
 municated the history of this curious volume (' The Nithsdale 
 and Galloway Songs ') to Sir AValter Scott. No man more 
 generously and liberally knows how to estimate the merits of 
 contemporary genius. He does, indeed, possess too large a 
 share of that imperishable gift to envy other men's possessions. 
 No one can admire his powers of invention,' his matchless vigor 
 of miagination, playfulness of fancy, and quick perception of 
 all the varieties of human character more than I do, and yet 
 will you not think me ungrateful for all the amusement and 
 delight his writings have afforded me, when I say that if you 
 do send me a present of a cast of one of Mr. Chantrey's busts, 
 I had rather it were one of Sir Samuel Romillj than Sir Walter 
 Scott •? 
 
 " You must find a solution of this puzzling preference in the 
 importance which my husband and I attach to the public 
 principles of public men. I believe Sir Walter Scott to be an 
 excellent private character, as well as a man of consummate 
 genius, but then he is a writer in support of public principles 
 which we think injurious to the purity, dignity, and elevation 
 of the national character, while Sir Samuel Romilly spent the 
 ■whole of his valuable life in advocating that cause and those 
 principles which have raised England to the high rank she 
 holds in the scale of nations. What is it that has made our 
 country great, but that the Government has always been influ- 
 enced by public opinion ? You may say, perhaps. Will you 
 prefer a bust of Lord Byron, whose sentiments are those of 
 ultra-Whiggism ? I answer, No, because Lord Byron lias 
 trampled on private morals, and shamefully violated the chari- 
 ties of private life, and not all his powerful genius can redeem 
 him from dishonor."] 
 
GEORGE IV. IN EDINBURGH. 151 
 
 When we returned to Edinburgh, in the summer of 
 1822, the whole community there, rich and poor, were agog 
 in expectation of a visit from George the Fourth. He 
 appeared there in August ; and if he had been the wisest, 
 bravest, and most patriotic of kings that ever wore a crown, 
 he could not have been received with more loyal devotion 
 than was shown him by the good town of Edinburgh. My 
 sons were both called upon to get up their military duties 
 and accoutrements, for the occasion of the public entry into 
 Edinburgh from Leith. I went with my three daughters 
 to a window above Trotter's shop, in Princes Street, to see 
 the royal cavalcade come down St. Andrew Street to cross 
 the Calton Hill to Holyrood. It was certainly a most im- 
 posing and gorgeous sight ; but it was not the gilded coach 
 or the fat gentleman within it which made it an affecting 
 one: it was the vast multitude assembled — some said a 
 hundred thousand people — animated by one feeling of 
 national pride and pleasure in testifying their loyalty to 
 their Sovereign. Sir Walter Scott had so admirably 
 arranged the reception, that the poorest and humblest of 
 his subjects had an opportunity afforded them of bowing 
 to their King. Mrs. Grant of Laggan, a great lover of 
 Kings, was of our party. The good old lady had, for this 
 joyous occasion, put off her habitual black dress and robed 
 herself in a salmon-colored satin, and, with the rest of 
 the party, waved her handkerchief as the King appeared. 
 They had all a good laugh at my expense, who, somewhat 
 notorious for being no lover of Kings, was actually detected 
 shedding tears and waving my handkerchief "like the 
 lave," as the pageant passed. The fact is, I have always 
 found the sight and cheer of a midtitude, when animated 
 by one kindly or patriotic feeling, quite irresistible in its 
 power to command my sympathy and make me weep, and 
 for the time, it is an exciting and pleasurable feeling. I 
 
152 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 
 
 have never seen a multitude mischievously assembled, or 
 disposed to evil, and hope the inexplicable emotion I have 
 acknowledged would not lead me to follow " a multitude 
 in doing evil." 
 
 Mr. Fletcher was then so infirm in health that we wished 
 to persuade him to go quietly with us to Princes Street to 
 see the procession ; but no — he insisted on taking his seat 
 on the platform prepared for the gentlemen of the Bar, and 
 cheered the chief magistrate of a free people with all hig 
 heart. 
 
 And here I must record an instance of Highland grati- 
 tude creditable to the feelings of that country. A valued 
 servant of ours, who had married from our house, and who 
 then lived in the High Street, had two or three windows 
 to the front, and, some time before the King came, I asked 
 her to let us have one of them to see his Majesty's proces- 
 sion on its way from Holyrood to the Castle. Before the 
 King came, however, I heard that all the windows in his 
 line of progress were letting at high prices, from five to 
 ten pounds for each window. Not being willing or able 
 to pay any such sum for looking at a King, I called to 
 
 release Mrs. M from her promise, and begged she would 
 
 let her windows for the best price she could get. The 
 warm-hearted woman said, with tears of emotion, "'Deed 
 no, Mrs. Fletcher ; if you won't come to the window, it 
 must stand empty." Of course we went to her window, 
 not daring to offer payment for it, but contriving to re- 
 munerate her in some other way. Alas ! what contrasts 
 did her home on that day of the procession exhibit ; her 
 only child then, her little Mary (called after my Mary), 
 was in its cradle dying of exhaustion from whooping-cough, 
 and she watching by it in hopeless grief, while the tumul- 
 tuous acclamations of the people as the royal cortege moved 
 slowly to the Castle Hill filled the air with rejoicing. 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT.— CRABBE THE POET. 153 
 
 Mr. Glassford, an intimate fi-iend of Sir Walter Scott, 
 was walking with us past Sir Walter's door in Castle Street 
 when he was ringing his own bell, having just returned 
 from Holyrood, where the King had held a levee. " Well, 
 Sir Walter," said Mr. Glassford, " what does the King say 
 of his good town of Edinburgh ? " " Say ! " said Sir Wal- 
 ter, " he says, ' I always heard the Scotch were a proud 
 people ; and they may well be proud, for they are a nation 
 of gentlemen, and they live in a citj^ of palaces.' " It was 
 a kingly speech; and, indeed, it was a gorgeous sight to 
 walk about the streets of our " ain romantic town " in those 
 days of well-organized festivity. It was during that festive 
 time I had the pleasure of renewing a personal acquaintance 
 with my old friend, the poet Crabbe. He was on a visit 
 to Sir Walter Scott, a few doors from us. It was in the 
 year 1788 that he and his wife passed some days at my 
 father's house along with Mr. Cartwright. At that time 
 he was a slender, pensive-looking man, about thirty ; in 
 1822, when we met again, he was a white-haired, interest- 
 ing old man, old-looking for his years, but his cheerfulness 
 had improved with his fam€ and fortune, for he was then 
 one of the most popular and admired poets of the day, and 
 in comparatively affluent circumstances. He had, indeed, 
 lost a treasure of a wife not many years after I first knew 
 them. She left him two excellent sons, and they were the 
 solace of his latter years. His son George was his biogra- 
 pher, and a more interesting record of the struggles and 
 triumphs of genius in overcoming adverse circumstances 
 can nowhere be met with. Mr. Crabbe had evidently as 
 much pleasure as I had in the recollection of our first 
 acquaintance, and came whenever he had an, hour to spare 
 for a quiet talk about old times. He honored us with 
 his company at dinner several times, and one day met at 
 our table the celebrated Mrs. Somerville, whose unaffected 
 
154 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 simplicity of manners was as remarkable as her uncommon 
 attainments in science. My much-loved friend, Mrs. Wolfe 
 Tone Wilson, and her son, William Wolfe Tone, were also 
 of the party that day. They were for some time in 
 Edinburgh that summer on a visit from America. I still 
 found in Mrs. Wolfe Tone the same vigor and originality 
 of mind, with as much warmth and tenderness of heart, as 
 in my former intimacy with that delightful woman. She 
 was happier because her son, the idol of her heart, was with 
 her ; but they thought our good town had gone daft about 
 George the Fourth. 
 
 [One of the diverting incidents of this period occurred during 
 a forenoon visit when Mr. Crabbe and young Tone met at our 
 house. Tone was sitting with us when the old poet was an- 
 nounced, and he had scarcely taken his seat in his quiet com- 
 posed manner when Tone rushed towards him, went down on 
 one knee, took his hand, kissed it, and, without saying a word, 
 resumed his chair. When he went away we explained to Mr. 
 Crabbe who he was, and that his Irish blood and French educa- 
 tion accounted for this departure from ordinary manners. It 
 seemed a relief to the gentle old man to find " that the young 
 gentleman was not out of his mind." 
 
 Note from George Crabbe to Mrs. Fletcher in August, 1822. 
 
 " My dear Lady, — I have now more time to reply to your 
 obliging note, and yet know not what more I can say. I 
 deferred my answer because I was uncertain with respect to my 
 engagements, and would not write till the last minute, in the 
 hope that I might indulge myself and accept the invitation 
 which you so obligingly placed in my way, but not entirely in 
 my power. 
 
 " We cannot always, my dear madam, as you are well assured, 
 do that which we would. I meet Avith nothiu'j^ but kindness in 
 Edinburgh, but how often does it happen that even kindness 
 prevents us the doing as we would ! 
 
 " I am convinced that I make very awkward apologies ; nay, 
 
LETTER TO MRS. STARK. 155 
 
 apologies they are not, and I am quite sure that I am writing 
 to a lady who comprehends all that I would say. 
 
 " It would have been highly pleasing to me if I could have 
 heard Mr. Alison preach, and to have been introduced to a 
 gentleman of whom I know so much, and of whom so much 
 remains to be known. I will not dwell upon my disappoint- 
 ment. 
 
 " Let me at least take this occasion of giving you my best 
 thanks for the kind attention which you have shown to me. I 
 am very sure that while I remember anything I shall remember 
 that I remain, my dear lady, your old friend, 
 
 " George Crabbe. 
 " 39 North Castle St." 
 
 This note from the poet Crabbe, written from the celebrated 
 " poor 39 Castle Street," where Walter Scott lived so long, is 
 curious from showing the distraction produced in the mind of 
 a "quiet lion" when introduced suddenly into such a motley 
 scene as the time of the King's visit to Edinburgh presented. 
 It shows, too, such a complete difference in the style of note- 
 writing, having much of the stately stiffness of the dedications 
 of the days of Crabbe's youth, and not being able to depart 
 from that, even in the prevailmg bustle which might have 
 excused a shorter apology. 
 
 To Mrs. Stark from E. F. 
 
 " Edinburgh, 1822. 
 
 " We grieve more than I can express for the alarming state 
 of oar dear T. E. Currie. I have never known a loftier or 
 purer mind, or a warmer heart than his. 
 
 " We always admired and esteemed him highly when he was 
 a student here three years ago, but last autumn he stayed with 
 us at dear Miss Kennedy's, and the intimacy of domestic inter- 
 course made us feel towards him a much livelier interest than 
 we had done before. He is a noble creature, a most unworldly 
 one, and though his imagination and buoyancy of spirit imaged 
 out successful and bright prospects, the delicacy of his charac- 
 ter and the sensibility of his temperament would have dis- 
 qualified him for the rough conflicts of life. He is better 
 
156 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 fitted for the world to which he is going than for the one he 
 leaves ; but bright hopes go with him, and I am very sad for 
 those he leaves behind to mourn such a loss."] 
 
 In the winter of 1822 and 1823, I had prevailed upon 
 some friends to join me in an attempt to reform some young 
 delinquents in a House of Refuge. This had been a 
 favorite project of mine for many years, and I do not 
 remember any work of usefulness in which I ever engaged 
 with more heart and hope. It was my thought night and 
 day how these poor boys, the children of wicked parents, 
 themselves nurtured in crime, might be reclaimed from 
 their evil ways. It pleased God to prosper the under- 
 taking. For several years Lady Carnegie of Dairy House 
 was the main support and encourager of it. Circumstances 
 which neither she nor I could control led to its being 
 merged into a larger Institution, but during the seventeen 
 years our small experiment in Dairy Lane existed, 116 
 boys had been admitted from prison and Bridewell, of 
 whom the manager could give a most satisfactory account, 
 105 being reclaimed and having become useful members 
 of society. They were taught the trade of shoemaking, 
 and lived as one family under the kind rule of their master 
 and his wife. 
 
 In the spring of 1823 Maria Edgeworth and her two 
 younger sisters spent some time in Edinburgh. We met 
 first at my dear friend and pastor's house, the Rev. Mr. 
 Alison. It was the first time I had been introduced to the 
 author of " Simple Susan," though we were not unknown 
 to each other, as she told me her brothers had often men- 
 tioned the agreeable society they met at our house when 
 they were students in Edinburgh. Miss Edgeworth's 
 personal ap2iearance was not attractive ; but her vivacity, 
 good humor, and cleverness in conversation quite equalled 
 my expectations. I should say she was more sprightly 
 
MARIA EDGEWORTH. 157 
 
 and brilliant than refined. She excelled in the raciness 
 of Irish humor, but the great defect of her manner, as it 
 seemed to me, was an excess of compliment, or what in 
 Ireland is called " blarney ; " and in one who had moved in 
 the best circles, both as to manners and mind, it surprised 
 me not a little. She repelled all approach to intimacy on 
 my part by the excess of her complimentary reception of 
 me when we were first introduced to each other at Mr. 
 Alison's. I never felt confidence in the reality of what she 
 said afterwards. I do not know whether it was the absence 
 of good taste in her, or that she supposed I was silly and 
 vain enough to be flattered by such verbiage. It was the 
 first time in my life I had met with such over-acted civility ; 
 but I was glad of an opportunity of meeting a person whose 
 genius and powers of mind had been exercised in benefit- 
 ing the world as hers have been. I feel sure from the 
 feeling of those friends who loved her, because they knew 
 her well, that had this been the case with me, I might 
 have been also one of her friends ; so that I only give my 
 impression as arising from that of society intei'course of a 
 very superficial kind. Miss ^Jdgeworth and her two very 
 agreeable sisters were pleased to meet at our house Sir 
 Robert and Lady Listen. They accompanied us some 
 days after this to dine at Millburn Tower, the Listons' 
 country-house, near Edinburgh. Miss Edgeworth's varied 
 information and quick repartee appeared to great advantage 
 in conversation with the polished ex-ambassador of Con- 
 stantinople, who always reminded me of the couplet : — 
 
 " Polite, as all his life in Courts had been ; 
 Yet good, as he the world had never seen." 
 
 In the month of June, 1823, Mary accompanied her 
 friend Catherine Laycock to Yorkshire, where Margaret 
 had spent the winter, and soon after these dear sisters set 
 
158 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 off with their great-aunt Mrs. Fretwell, the eldest daughter 
 of jNIr. Ilill, to pay a visit to our friends Mrs. Martin and 
 Mrs. Buckle, near Cheltenham. 
 
 My aunt, Mrs. Fretwell, was a singular character, highly 
 principled and highly prejudiced. She had an old-fashioned 
 notion of the authority to be exercised by age over youth, 
 and she set out by telling her young companions that she 
 must rule and they must obey. This was quite proper as 
 she franked them in her post-chaise ; and travelling only 
 two stages a day, and one of those before breakfast, they 
 had much time to explore the different towns they visited 
 in their progress. My daughters found her government a 
 very pleasant one ; in fact, she allowed them to have their 
 own way quite as much as they desired, and they parted 
 the best friends imaginable, at the house of her stepson, in 
 Worcestershire. 
 
 INIr. Fletcher's feverish attacks had been so frequent 
 during this winter, that soon after my daughters left us 
 we secured the best lodgings we could procure between 
 Dalkeith and Lasswade, and there my husband and I, 
 with Mrs. Taylor and her children, went for country air. 
 Mr. Fletcher's health soon improved, and we were kindly 
 attended to by our friends in the way of a supply of books 
 and morning visits. Our incommodious dwelling prevented 
 our enjoying any society otherwise ; but I shall always feel 
 thankful to have been sent there, as it were, by the force 
 of circumstances, as it enabled me to be of some use to 
 three most deserving young people, the children of the 
 unprincipled market-gardener from whom we took our 
 house. AYe returned to town early in September, with 
 minds made up to take a more comfortable residence iu 
 the country the following year. 
 
LETTERS TO HER DAUGHTERS. 159 
 
 l^From letters to her absent daughters relating to the 
 gardener'' s family. 
 
 "Castle Street, 1823. 
 
 "I had intended to write to you to-day from Almondale, but 
 have put it off till Monday, as your dear father had a slight 
 attack of fever, but is kindly desirous I should go to see Mrs. 
 Erskine. On the whole, he has been much better since we 
 came to our home comforts than he was the two wet, dismal 
 months we were at Viewfield, in which, however, we had some 
 gleams of sweet scenery and much repose, and our going there 
 I look upon as providential, since it has afforded us the oppor- 
 tunity of rescuing the two poor girls who were the victims of 
 their father's brutal tyranny. Through Miss Howell, I have got 
 one of them a situation as nursery-governess. Their brother's 
 gratitude to me is most touching, for coming between them 
 and their father's most unnatural cruelty. I think I gave 
 either you or Mrs. Martin a history of this interesting family, 
 where the virtues so peculiarly Scotch — of self-denial, submis- 
 sion to severe hardship without repining, education and refine- 
 ment much beyond their condition, with considerable ambition 
 and aspiring thoughts on the brother's part — form the con- 
 flicting elements of the charactej: of this family. These are 
 also engrafted on deep piety, and such a sense of filial duty, 
 that although we have reason to think these young women 
 were often in danger of their lives from the drunken fury of 
 their father, they never once complained, or uttered a murmur 
 against him." 
 
 " ALMONnAi.E, October 8, 1823. 
 
 " I came here on Monday, to enjoy, with dear Mrs. Erskine, 
 the last hngering days of autumn. They have been bright and 
 mild, and the coloring of the trees on the banks of this beau- 
 tiful river, 1 that rushes past the window where I am writing, 
 gives a richness and variety that belongs only to this season. 
 I left your father remarkably well ; he even proposed that I 
 should remain here till Friday ; but I thought it best not to 
 try his patience too far, and am to return to-morrow. 
 
 1 The Ahiiond. 
 
1 60 A UTOBIO GRAPH Y. 
 
 "Last night was the anniversary of the day Mr. Erskine 
 died, and my friend, who is a great observer of seasons, is 
 much depressed by the sad recollections of that event. She is 
 pious and amiable in no common degree ; but oh ! she is deso- 
 late. She has no children to expect home from Gloucester- 
 shire. I grieve for her want of objects on whom to dwell 
 with joy and thankfulness. Perhaps when the last hour comes 
 she will find it merciful to have so few ties to earth ; but 
 affections such as good children afford are not earthly — they 
 are gifts of Heaven — only bestowed to be fully enjoyed here- 
 after. God bless my two precious children, prays their affec-' 
 tionate mother. E. Fletcher. " 
 
 Letters to her daughters absent in Gloucestershire. 
 
 " Edinburgh, September Wth, 1823. 
 " I received your very cheering letter last Saturday, the day 
 after I had despatched mine to Margaret; and though I begin 
 ray chat with you now, I think I shall no't send it till after 
 Saturday's post, that I may leave room to reply to your next 
 letters. I can fully enter into your disappointment about 
 'The Fall of Jerusalem.'^ It is impossible not to form 
 poetical expectations of a poet — a beau-ideal which is, I believe, 
 less often realized on a slight acquaintance than any other 
 illusion of the imagination. I cherished it, forty years ago, 
 about Mason, and have not been cured after half a century's 
 experience of the fallacious nature of such expectations; but I 
 must hasten to tell you how highly and truly I have been 
 gratified by dining in company with Brougham and Denman. 
 It was last Monday this good fortune befell me. We had heard 
 they were at John Brougham's for a day or two, but had no 
 expectation of seeing them when Mrs. John Brougham called 
 early to ask your father and me to dinner that day, as they 
 wished Henry to see his old friends. I was at the meeting 
 of the Female Friendly Society at the time, with good Miss 
 Wilson, and deep in the accounts there, when Angus good- 
 naturedly came to tell me, as an answer was required. I came 
 home and wrote my acceptance, and your father's regrets in 
 
 1 By Mr. Milinan, afterwards Dean of St. Paul's. 
 
LETTERS TO HER DAUGHTERS. 161 
 
 not being able to go. Brougham met me most kindly and 
 cordially, but the party of twenty at dinner was too numerous 
 for general conversation, and I was not well set between Sir 
 John Beresford and Sir Alexander Keith, but Denman's face 
 opposite was a treat. I never saw a more noble physiognomy, 
 morally and intellectually. He was silent. When the gentle- 
 men came up to the drawing-room, Brougham stationed him- 
 self beside me ; Dr. Thomson joined us ; and I never heard a 
 more animated, pleasant, unforced, conversation than that which 
 flowed on for more than an hour. One had but to touch the 
 string, and it always vibrated the very chord one wished. It 
 ■was not brilliant sayings or pointed bon-mots, it was informa- 
 tion given with frankness, energy, and good-nature. He said 
 he had met with Clarkson at Penrith, and bade him go and 
 tell Southey it was a shame that Negro Emancipation had never 
 once been advocated in the Quarterly Review ; that Clarkson 
 told him he had got the promise of fifteen hundred petitions 
 from the principal towns in England in favor of that measure. 
 He said the friends of Emaiicipation were determined to debate 
 and divide the House upon every petition, so as to force Minis- 
 ters to adopt some efficient measure in the next session. He 
 said his Education Bill was rendered abortive by the prejudices 
 of the Dissenters in England,.^who refused to send their chil- 
 dren to schools where the parish minister had a veto on the 
 choice of the schoolmaster ; and the ministers of the Establish- 
 ment hated the Bill, because they were, generally speaking, 
 averse to educate the people at all, and were only driven to do 
 so by fear of the Methodists and other Dissenters. He said it 
 was proposed to bring forward individual cases and instances 
 of oppression and injustice exercised by magistrates and Orange- 
 men in Ireland, rather than argue any longer on general princi- 
 ples of misgovernment in that country ; facts would produce 
 an effect upon the House when argument and reasoning were 
 disregarded. Brougham's manner of treating subjects of inter- 
 est is quite different from our Edinburgh Whigs. There is no 
 affected indifference on subjects of vital importance, no con- 
 temptuous sneer at rational conversation. He speaks with ani- 
 mation and deep interest on the subjects I have mentioned. I 
 met both Brougham and Denman next morning at breakfast 
 
162 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 at Dr. Thomson's. Denman is the most graceful of human 
 beings ; admired Edinburgh extremely, but was still silent ; 
 looks deferentially at Brougham, and benevolently at every- 
 body. Brougham spoke with enthusiasm of Granville Sharp. 
 He said he had seen him dining on bread and cheese, while at 
 the same time he knew he was supporting many miserable 
 human beings. He (Granville Sharp) wrote some pamphlets 
 to prove that Melchisedek was Jesus Christ. His life was 
 divided between relieving the poor and oppressed, and expound- 
 ing the Revelations. Brougham seemed to have been greatly 
 amused with his simplicity. B. says the Opposition are never 
 so strong as when a Scotch job is brought before the House of 
 Commons. The English Tories are ashamed to defend them, 
 and genei'ally slink away and leave the JVWnister to brave it out 
 as he best can, but (added he) Ireland is as much worse than 
 Scotland in political liberty as Scotland is worse than England. 
 He inquired after JMiles in a tone and manner that showed he 
 liked him. Miles was much vexed he could not attend the 
 public dinner given this day at Glasgow to Brougham and Den- 
 man, but his jury case of some importance was to come on 
 to-day at Inverary, and he could not leave it. 
 
 " Your delightful joint-letter arrived this morning. I sent 
 for it by eight o'clock, so impatient was I for it. It is truly 
 the food that feeds my spirits and sustains my cheerfulness. 
 I, too, have weaiy longings to have you both home again : 
 this increases upon me as the time approaches. Your father 
 keeps finely, and enjoys your letters as much as I do." 
 
 To her davghters Margaret and Mary, absent in 
 Gloucestershire, 
 
 " 2Uh September, 1823. 
 "While Bessie and I were sitting tete-a-tete on Sunday even- 
 ing, the children having just gone to bed, the door-bell rang, 
 and a gentleman, unannounced, was ushered into the drawing- 
 room. He walked close up to me, and it was not till his dark 
 countenance relaxed into a smile that I half screamed out, 
 ' Sinclair CuUen ! ' He had arrived in the mail that morning, 
 and was on his way to Kinfauns Castle. He sat with us an 
 hour, and was much like what you saw of him in London, only 
 
LETTERS TO HER DAUGHTERS. 163 
 
 some shades less splenetic in his opinions of men and things. 
 He has, however, a hero, and I have therefore a hope he will 
 come right yet. His abstract of perfection is Sir Francis Bur- 
 dett. He says he is without a particle of selfishness ; that it is 
 a beautiful character — calm, concentrated, benevolent, and 
 purely disinterested, entirely without vanity or personal ambi- 
 tion ; that nothing disturbs the calmness of his temper but acts 
 of cruelty and injustice. 
 
 " Cullen called the next day, and met here accidentally the 
 Marquis and Marquise de Bossi. He is an expatriated Italian 
 patriot ; she, a Swiss lady, who has followed the fortunes of the 
 banished man, and came to marry him in England, for the 
 Holy Alliance, she said, would not permit him to marry in 
 Switzerland. They have established such a system of espion- 
 age in that once free and happy country, that the Marquis was 
 obliged to change his name, and conceal himself in a cottage 
 near Geneva, and visit his betrothed bride by stealth. She is 
 the intimate friend of Sismondi, of whom she speaks in terms 
 of the warmest and most affectionate friendship. Her broken 
 English does not lessen the effect of her eloquence. I never saw 
 so engaging a foreigner. They like Edinburgh so much, they 
 talk of returning here for the winter, 
 
 " Sinclair Cullen was to din^with us that day, and called to 
 say, if we would allow him, he would bring with him John 
 Cam Hobhouse, the M. P. for Westminster, whom he had met 
 accidentally in the street on his return from Lord Glenorchy's, 
 and being engaged to dine with us, Sinclair thought the addi- 
 tion of this ultra- Whig would be agreeable 5 and so it proved. 
 Mr. Hobhouse is remarkably entertaining — quick, lively, com- 
 municative ; not interesting (he is too much a man of the 
 world for that), not nearly so commanding and impressive as 
 Brougham, or so dignified as Denman. He remembered dining 
 here and meeting young Betty the actor in 1804. He told us 
 many diverting stoi'ies, the most tragi-comic of which was the 
 narrative of Shelley's death, which he had heard from Lord 
 Byron. [As this is now so well known, it is omitted here. 
 The letter goes on :] Mr. Hobhouse had a letter the other day 
 from Lord Byron, saying that ten thousand pounds would save 
 the liberties of Greece. Mr. ilobhouse said it was wonderful 
 
164 A UTO BIO GRAPHY. 
 
 how circumstances formed character. Lord Byron and he were 
 in Greece in 1810, long before any revolutionary movements. 
 They had an Athenian servant named Demetrius, whose exces- 
 sive timidity and cowardice furnished them with amusement. 
 They used to set him on a spirited horse, that ran away with 
 him, and Demetrius shrieked and screamed with terror. The 
 barking of a dog made him cry out with fear ; and yet, some 
 years after, this very man led the assault at Athens, and, after 
 prodigies of valor, took that city from the Turks."] 
 
 In April, 1824, we all went to live at Auchindinny House, 
 an old and odd-looking chateau on the banks of the North 
 Esk, nine miles from Edinburgh, and within a walk of 
 Penicuik. Mr. Mackenzie (the " Man of Feeling ") ^ 
 and his family had lived there many years before ; and 
 although it had nothing of the neatness and order of an 
 English villa, it suited our taste, and the walks about it 
 were a never-ending pleasure to my daughters and to my 
 grandchildren; while in the enjoyment of a large garden 
 and a small pony gig, my desires, as to the means of 
 amusement, were completely gratified. We all enjoyed the 
 repose and freedom of a country life, and Mr. Fletcher's 
 health and happiness were greatly promoted by it. I 
 found my early taste for country occupations return upon 
 me. We had several poor neighbors who interested us 
 much, and our nearest neighbors (the Hills of Firth) were 
 truly kind and pleasant associates. Then our more inti- 
 mate friends from Edinburgh and elsewhere visited us fre- 
 quently, not in a formal or ceremonious manner, but in a 
 friendly fashion. Mr. Fletcher delighted in the quietness 
 and freedom of our life there ; he was able to read for 
 hours, and to be read to ; he bore the infirmities of age 
 
 1 Mr. Mackenzie paid us a visit at Auchindinny the first winter, and 
 spoke of having shot woodcocks in his youth where he then lived, in Heriol 
 Row. Our dear "maestro," Dr. R. Morehead, also came more than once 
 there, to visit us, and was always welcome. We resumed our Dante read- 
 ings with him in the winter of 1826-7. 
 
AUCHINDINNY AND ITS PLEASURES. 165 
 
 with uncomplaining submission, and his interest in public 
 events was undiminished. The frequent visits of our 
 grandchildren, Miles's three boys, were a great delight to 
 us both, and Mrs. Taylor and her two children formed 
 an interesting addition to our family circle. We had no 
 hankerings after what were called the gaieties of an 
 Edinburgh life. If I — the most gaily disposed member 
 of the family — had felt any yearnings of that kind, I 
 should have been ashamed to have yielded to them before 
 the better regulated habits and tastes of my daughters ; 
 but in fact, though naturally a lover of the pleasures of 
 society, and somewhat spoiled, perhaps, by the place which 
 an indulgent circle of friends had given me in the society 
 of Edinburgh, it had been at times difficult to keep up the 
 expenditure such circles involve, so that it was a cheap 
 purchase of repose to give up evening parties and their 
 confectionary horrors. 
 
 In October, 1824, Mrs. Taylor, her sweet Elizabeth, 
 Angus, and I, went to Yorkshire, to pay dear aunty a visit 
 before winter set in. Angus was on his way to London to 
 commence his studies as a-^^ulptor. He had never been 
 able to fix his mind on law and its unpleasant details, smce 
 his visit to Italy, and as his father and I had little hope of 
 his ever doing so, we thought it better that he should begin 
 at once the occupation he desired, than waste time as he 
 was then doing. It was decided that he should board and 
 lodge in Allan Cunningham's comfortable house for a year, 
 that by working in Chantrey's studio he might learn under 
 Allan the rudiments of the art before going to study at 
 Rome. 
 
 In the summer of 1825 we saw a good deal of some 
 agreeable Italian exiles, who had been attracted to Edin- 
 burgh by our friends the De Bossis. To Madame de Bossi 
 we were indebted for the honor of a visit from Sismondi. 
 
166 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 I remember it was a long bright summer day they came. 
 The Jeffreys met them, and we had a wander, after dinner, 
 in the glen and old quarry of Auchindinny, which all 
 enjoyed. We were all struck by the union of power and 
 simplicity in the conversation of Sismondi, and, above all, 
 by his remarkable benevolence and hopefulness of nature. 
 He was a believer in the good faith of such as truly loved 
 the welfare of mankind. He had come on a mission of 
 love and liberty, from the friends of Greece in Switzerland 
 to the friends of Greece in England ; but he was grievously 
 disappointed by the coldness of English feeling on the sub- 
 ject. He told us he doubted whether there was a single 
 citizen of Geneva who had not contributed his mite to this 
 great cause, but that he had not been able to make any 
 impression on the Greek Committee in London correspond- 
 ing to his hopes and expectations. 
 
 It was not without deep emotion, though regret made a 
 small part of it, that I learned from Miss Aikin that dear 
 Mrs. Barbauld had been taken from us. She died on the 
 9th of March, 1825, without much suffering, and retained 
 her faculties to the very last. She was a woman of much 
 deeper feeling than the world imagined; but the great 
 peculiarity of her mind, together with the extent of its 
 powers, both when we consider the brilliancy of her im- 
 agination and the depth of her understanding, was the 
 remarkable diffidence of her character. This arose from an 
 exquisite sensibility, which never was displayed, but con- 
 stantly escaped. I consider it one of the greatest privileges 
 of my life to have been in habits of intimacy with tliis 
 incomparable woman, and never felt so humble as in her 
 society. Her own modesty of character inspired this 
 feeling in others ; and as reverence is only a modification 
 of the devotional feelings, it was impossible to be with 
 Mrs. Barbauld without feeliuo^ the better for it. 
 
LETTER TO MRS. LAY COCK. 167 
 
 [2b Mrs. Laycock. 
 
 " AUCHINDINNY, April l%th, 1825. 
 
 " The severe blow you met with so lately, although it will 
 have made all other sorrows light in comparison, and chastened 
 even the happiness that may be in reserve for you, will make 
 you feel the sentiment of thankfulness more sensibly than you 
 ever did before. I speak from experience. It is eight years 
 this day since we lost our precious Grace. It was a stroke that 
 gave a reality to every succeeding event. It made every other 
 sorrow sink to its proper level. It made every remaining bless- 
 ing more than ever valued. It taught that most important 
 truth — a constant dependence on the providence of God, and 
 a thankfulness, never before properly understood, for His 
 merciful support in the hour of bitterest trial. It took away 
 much of the fear of death, and made life a thing so very pre- 
 carious and uncertain as to be valued only for the use that was 
 made of it in reference to another state of existence. You and 
 I, my dear friend, have met with similar trials in our family, 
 and we know better than ever how to feel for each other. But 
 oh ! how many mercies are spared to us, and how sinful would 
 be our unthankfulness! "] 
 
 We took the variety of a three months' stay in Edin- 
 burgh in the winter of 1826-27, which, from my husband's 
 improved health, he was also able to enjoy in a quiet way, 
 seeing his old friends in the morning, and we doing so in 
 the evening. It was during one of these small evening 
 parties, when I remember Sydney Smith happened to be 
 in Edinburgh, and spent that evening at our house, that 
 my son Miles, returning from the Theatrical Fund dinner, 
 joined our party and announced that " The Great Unknown " 
 had, on Sir Walter Scott's health being drunk, risen 
 and acknowledged himself to be the author of " Waverley," 
 " Guy Mannering," etc. Though the fact was as well 
 known, as if he had proclaimed it at the market cross, 
 ten years before, this public and unexpected acknowledg- 
 
168 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 ment produced a great sensation not only on the people 
 present, but throughout every circle in Edinburgh. The 
 secret had been extracted from him by the unfortunate state 
 of his affairs, involved as he was in Constable's bank- 
 ruptcy. Sir Walter was one of those great men who had 
 an undue estimate of the " pride of life." He did not 
 care for money, but he cared much for baronial towers 
 and aristocratical distinction ; and yet this taste was 
 unaccompanied with haughtiness of disposition or manners. 
 It was rather .the romance of his character that had led 
 him to add acre to acre, and to found the family of Scott 
 of Abbotsford ; for there was nothing sordid in his nature ; 
 he was frank and kind-hearted, as much beloved by his 
 poor neighbors as he was admired and courted by the great. 
 It must always be regretted that the labors of his busy 
 life failed to secure him an honorable independence in his 
 advanced years ; and yet he was never more truly great 
 than when he said, on declaring himself insolvent, '* But 
 this right hand shall work me out of my difficulties ; " and 
 so it would, had his life been prolonged. There can be 
 little doubt, however, that the painful excitement of the dif- 
 ficulties, which he met so bravely, broke down his constitu- 
 tion and shortened his life. 
 
 "We spent an agreeable three months in Edinburgh, and 
 returned to Auchindinny in the month of Ajjril, 1827. 
 "We had not long returned there when we had very dis- 
 tressing accounts of Angus being taken ill at Rome in May, 
 1827. We sent our kind relation, Lieut. M'Nicol, to 
 travel home with him, and the following winter he spent 
 with us in complete retirement, and gradually recovered 
 his health of body and mind in the spring of 1828. At 
 this time we were not without much anxiety about Miles's 
 health, which began to decline, and Mr. Fletcher became 
 visibly more feeble and less cheerful. I remember his 
 
MR. FLETCHER'S DECLINING HEALTH. 169 
 
 saying that he thought he had now lived as long as life 
 was desirable, on which I reminded him that not many- 
 years ago he had said that he should like to live his life 
 over again. He smiled, and said, " Yes, my dear, my 
 married life." His tenderness of expression seemed to 
 increase towards all connected with him, and he often spoke 
 of me to his children, and of them to me with the fondest 
 affection. That summer, the last of his life, several old 
 friends came to paj^ their respects to him ; among others 
 Mrs. Ker, Miss Forster, Mrs. Spiers, and her daughter 
 Mary. He continued to take the warmest interest in 
 public events, and at this time the Greek Revolution occu- 
 pied his thoughts, and his daughters used to read to him 
 and write for him whenever he desired it. He never used 
 spectacles, and was able to read easily till within five or 
 six weeks of his death. Towards the middle or end of 
 November of that sad year our dear Mrs. Taylor took his 
 loved grandchild Elizabeth to stay, as we thought, some 
 months with my aunt at Tadcaster. I still think I see 
 our precious Elizabeth with her brother in the little pony- 
 carriage, attended by LunnSn, the gardener's wife, leading 
 the pony through the avenue at Auchindinny, she taking 
 her last look of a place she had loved so dearly. Her 
 mother went the day before, and they both stayed some 
 days with Miles in Edinburgh before they set out for 
 Yorkshire. They had not been gone a week before we 
 heard that the dear aunt to whom they were going had 
 been seized with apoplexy, which had very much affected 
 her mind. The next letter from Mrs. Taylor told us that 
 her Elizabeth was ill, very feverish, and she was uneasy 
 about her. Next day, Mary, who had been staying in 
 Edinburgh for a few days, unexpectedly appeared at Auchin- 
 dinny late at night, and with a countenance of deep distress 
 told us that Elizabeth's complaint was typhus fever, and 
 
170 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 that she was in great danger. Margaret returned to 
 Edinburgh in the carriage that brought Mary home, and 
 she and Angus set off without delay to Tadcaster. The 
 dear child knew her aunt Margaret, to whom she was 
 warmly attached. She watched by her constantly, sharing 
 with her mother the office of a nurse. But it pleased God 
 to take her from them, and never did a purer or holier 
 spirit return to Him who gave it. She had lived with us 
 eleven years, and we could not remember when we lost her 
 that she had ever said or done a thing to grieve us. She 
 died on the 15th of December, 1828, at the age of thirteen 
 years and seven months, and was buried in a vault adjoining 
 to that of the Hill family in the north aisle of Tadcaster 
 church. 
 
 When Mary and I received accounts of her death we 
 were watching by the deathbed of her grandfather. Mr. 
 Fletcher's mind was so acute that we did not tell him of 
 her death, he would have felt it so severely. Not many 
 days before his death Mr. Turner, our family surgeon, came 
 from Edinburgh to pay him a friendly visit. I happened 
 to be out of the room when he arrived, but I found him 
 giving Mr. Fletcher an account of the successful struggle 
 the Greeks were making against their Turkish oppressors. 
 I never saw Mr, Fletcher look more animated, and turning 
 to me he said, " My dear, Mr. Turner says I must take 
 some port wine, and you must take a glass with us, to wish 
 success to the Greeks." I mention this as an instance of 
 the public passion being strong in death. After that day 
 he spoke little, but was in a placid, thankful, happy state 
 of mind. He had always said he hoped he should die in 
 the midst of his family. On the 19 th of December I had 
 a letter from Miles, expressing great distress in not being 
 allowed by his medical men to come and see him, on 
 account of his severe cou2,h and the medical treatment 
 
DEATH OF MR. FLETCHER. 171 
 
 thought necessary for it. His father said, in a strong and 
 cheerful tone, " By no means ; write and tell him I entreat 
 him not to come." Late that evening Angus arrived from 
 Yorkshire ; he had set off from the funeral of his niece, 
 and only reached Auchindinny a few hours before his 
 father died. Dear Mary and I had been the only members 
 of his family that were about his bed, owing to the variety 
 of our family afflictions at the time ; but when I told him 
 Angus had come, though too weak to speak audibly, an 
 expression of pleasure passed over his countenance. As he 
 seemed disposed to sleep, Mary and I left him for a few 
 hours in the charge of my son Angus, and an excellent maid 
 of mine of the name of Brown, whom he liked much as a 
 nurse, and who frequently read to him. Our good medical 
 attendant from Penicuik, Mr. Renton, remained with us 
 that night, and was in a room which opened into his. 
 About two o'clock in the morning Angus came to tell us 
 that all was over. 
 
 Thus closed a union of thirty-seven years of .as much hap- 
 piness as is commonly the portion of human life. During 
 all that time I never experienced an unkind word or deed 
 from my husband ; I never knew him do a thing that was 
 not strictly honorable and high-principled. Considering 
 the great disparity of our years, there was unusual sym- 
 pathy between us. He had none of that narrow and paltry 
 feeling which belongs to men of little minds, a desire of exer- 
 cising power and authority in small matters. His indulgence 
 towards me knew no bounds, and he secured my respect and 
 affection by the virtues of his character, the soundness of 
 his understanding, and the tenderness of his heart. It was 
 my happiness to be able to sympathize completely in all his 
 public feelings and opinions. If I had not done so, our 
 union would have been far less happy; for he lived in 
 times when private interests were sacrificed to public princi- 
 
172 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 pies by all who truly loved truth and justice, and had minds 
 sufficiently enlightened and honesty sufficiently steadfast to 
 prefer the public good to private and personal advancement. 
 
 \_Miles A. Fletcher's letter to his mother, from bed, on the day 
 of his father's futieral. 
 
 ''2ith December, 1828. 
 " My dearest Mother, — It was very kind of you to write 
 to me. Be assured my ailment is yielding to Dr. Thomson's 
 vigorous practice and gi'eat care. I cannot attempt to say how 
 much the necessity of confinement to bed on this day distresses 
 me, yet I know it is the course which would be most accept- 
 able to the affectionate spirit now at rest. We have much of 
 the purest pleasure in store in recalling recollections of the 
 virtues which ennobled my father's character. They make me 
 feel proud ; and although I cannot hope to adorn his name, yet 
 I trust it will be transmitted by me without dishonor. I 
 trust George is impressed, by some conversations we have had, 
 in a way you would wish; but I have not strength now to 
 enlarge on a subject which at this solemn hour so fully engrosses 
 me. My wife joins with me in warmly affectionate sympathy. 
 
 — I am always your grateful and loving son, 
 
 "Miles A. Fletcher." 
 
 It was during the first winter we spent at Auchindinny that 
 we persuaded my mother to print her " Dramatic Sketches," 
 which had been written at Callander a few years before. A 
 selection from the many lettei'S she received from true and 
 loving friends about the Dramatic Sketches is here inserted: — ■ 
 
 From 3Irs. Grant of Laggan. 
 
 " Now I must tell you of the impression your dramas have 
 left on my mind, though I cannot yet be said to have read 
 them critically. I fear you will scarce consider it a compli- 
 ment when I tell you that they far exceeded my exjDectations 
 
 — not that I expected less, in some respects, than I found. I 
 looked for exalted moral feeling, purity of sentiment, and the 
 utmost purity of style, but — truth to say — I did not expect 
 
LETTERS ON "DRAMATIC SKETCHES:^ 173 
 
 you to be so poetical, or to understand — what one might call 
 the technical part — the management of the drama so well. 
 The whole performance bears evident marks of being a tran- 
 script from your own mind, an abstract of those feelings and 
 principles on which you have thought, spoken, and acted. I 
 should think it a kind and friendly thing to point out any 
 blemish that I might observe in your work, not with the view 
 of altering or amending, but to prove my sincerity and try 
 your patience. Now, I really can find nothing in the language 
 or sentiments but what appears to me to be admirable as a 
 composition. There is no prominence of striking or glowing 
 passages, but the whole is finely and consistently sustained. 
 There is a masculine strength in the language, yet the purity 
 and delicacy of the thoughts expressed seem to belong to 
 woman's softer breast. The characters are well sustained and 
 sufficiently discriminated. ' Elidure,' I think, will please more 
 generally. It is delightful to think such a character really 
 existed ; to add life and coloring to such a portrait sketched 
 by Milton must have been a delightful task ; and I could well 
 suppose you to have luxuriated in it. Not seldom the practised 
 and the professed and shameless selfishness of worldly characters 
 has so wearied and disquieted me, that I feel a kind of triumph 
 when I have any character,-'living or dead, to hold up for the 
 honor of human nature as consistently actuated by noble 
 motives. You have yourself, my dear friend, done me good 
 service in this respect." 
 
 The Rev. Archibald Alison, her valued friend and pastor for 
 very many years, wrote thus on the same subject: — 
 
 "I have waited until I heard of your return to Scotland 
 to offer you my grateful thanks for the honor you have con- 
 ferred upon me by the copy of your dramas, and for the 
 delight you have given to me and mine by the perusal of them. 
 We expected much, and even more than our expectations has 
 been fulfilled. We have found in them everywhere the con- 
 ceptions of a noble and exalted mind, in many passages much 
 vigor, and in many others much felicity of poetic expression, 
 and in all a facility in the management of tragic verse which 
 would do honor to any dramatic author. I have found, 
 
174 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 
 
 however (for here I must speak in my own name, being 
 happily the only critic in the family), a great unacquaintance 
 ■with the craft of the drama, some negligence of the value of 
 your own materials, and an ignorance, perhaps a disdain, of 
 the art of setting them off by the common tricks of the stage. 
 All this, however, if you wish to adapt them for representation, 
 might be easily supplied. You have provided the gems, and a 
 very inferior hand might set them, so as to give to their own 
 natural brilliancy the advantages of artificial position. If you 
 have no wish of this kiud, you have at least the satisfaction of 
 leaving to your grandchildren a domestic memorial which, 
 in their eyes and in the eyes of those that follow them, will, 
 I doubt not, be more valuable ' than all Bokhara's vaunted 
 gold, and all the gems of Samarcand.' " 
 
 Joanna Baillie writes in August, 1825: — 
 
 "I have just risen from the second reading of your very 
 pleasing dramas, and will no longer delay my immediate thanks 
 to yourself, though I have written to your son on the subject, 
 and begged of him to convey to you my grateful acknowledg- 
 ments. I owe them for being kindly included amongst the 
 friends to whom you give this token of regard, and 1 owe them 
 for the pleasure I have received in perusing works of so much 
 generous feeling and noble sentiment and principles clothed in 
 such beautiful and harmonious verse. There cannot be a more 
 perfect character as a mother and a queen than you have 
 portrayed in ' Rowena;' and the entire rectitude and nobleness 
 of it are so simply, naturally, and forcibly expressed, that it 
 gives an originality which one does not often meet with in 
 these days iu dramatic subjects. 
 
 ' What! ask a noble nation to be slaves, — 
 To crouch and fawn beneath a tyrant's feet. 
 Because he was my son ? ' 
 
 are noble and forcible lines, the spirit of which is sustained 
 through the whole play, joined to great tenderness and affec- 
 tion. The flowers of poetry, too, which adorn both dramas, 
 are pleasingly and happily introduced. If I were a play-going 
 person I should probably prefer the second piece, which has 
 
LETTERS ON "DRAMATIC SKETCHES:^ 175 
 
 more of dramatic effect; but the first is my favorite, and I 
 believe I shall have a good proportion of your readers to agree 
 with me. I read the first aloud to Mrs. Baillie and my sister 
 as soon as I received the book, and they were both very much 
 pleased, and beg me to offer you their thanks for that gratifica- 
 tion. I congratulate you very heartily on your success, and I 
 congratulate those who will feel it more than you do, — Mr. 
 Fletcher and your daughters." 
 
 From Lucy Aikin to Angus Fletcher. 
 
 " August 13, 1825. 
 "It is with real satisfaction, my dear sir, that I prepare to 
 give you my sentiments on the 'Dramatic Sketches.' Had 
 they been sent to me anonymously I am certain that I should 
 have discovered in them the spirit of my friend, that spirit 
 which magnanimity and tenderness share between them so 
 equally that neither of them encroaches on the other, but both 
 blend into one noble and touching whole. When I find in any 
 work such evidence of a high soul, I really cannot descend to 
 the minuteness of technical criticism. I am satisfied with 
 language which clearly and energetically conveys the thought, 
 and I do not examine by rulesof art the construction of the 
 fable. Your recoinmendation'of reading the last first implies 
 that it is your favorite, but here I differ from you ; the noble 
 mother of ' Elidure ' is my friend's own self, and interests me 
 more than all ; besides, the subject appears to me more inter- 
 esting and more satisfactory, for I confess I have not so 
 disciplined rebel nature as to have lost all pleasure in poetical 
 justice. I would in fiction at least take vengeance of the 
 wicked first, and pity and forgive them after. Besides, I can 
 scarcely reconcile myself to the ruffian ' Dunstan ' converted 
 into a philosophic sage, and the grovelling superstition which 
 he made the instrument of his pride and ambition changed into 
 a benignant and beautiful faith, which has no temples through- 
 out the world, even in this age, but the hearts of the purest and 
 the most enlightened followers of a Divine philosophy. But 
 this affects not the intrinsic beauty of the characters, which is 
 very striking. I hope your dear mother will be encouraged to 
 embody more of those high and lovely conceptions in verse." 
 
176 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 
 
 To E. F., on reading her " Dramatic Sketches." 
 
 "Whose dreams are these ? and art thou still the same 
 
 As erst when T beheld thee, lofty dame, 
 
 Some twenty years now past, when fancies high 
 
 And fire-fed thoughts illumed thy noble eye, 
 
 And patriot aims which seem for man designed, 
 
 With poesy and gentle heart combined, 
 
 And womanly romance, to make the sheen 
 
 Of thy discourse as beauteous as thy mien? 
 
 Why do thy mind and spirit show no trace 
 
 Of Time's dominion? Has it spared thy face? 
 
 Come, show it me! What wild delight to see 
 
 That aught of noble beauteous good can be 
 
 Immortal here. I have not found them yet 
 
 Survive an hour, although I oft have set 
 
 My watch to measure them. Oh ! where are they, 
 
 The young enthusiasts, the spirits gay. 
 
 The brows unwritten on, the lips unstung 
 
 By grief, or not remembered ? — tell me where 
 
 Is he, the rhapsodist once welcome there? 
 
 All, all are in the tomb — they are no more, 
 
 Who are not what they were, doth time restore ? 
 
 No! though he comes with smiles, dispensing joys, 
 
 Alike his advent and his flight destroys, 
 
 And hope, and harmony, and bliss devour 
 
 Their favorites, victims, I have felt their power 
 
 And sorrows too, and but a wreck is left 
 
 Of hopes and fears, of peace and joy bereft. 
 
 Where ai'e the happy beings I have known 
 
 Ai'ound thee? infant-blooms and blisses, flowTi. 
 
 Thy children now are matrons; a new race — 
 
 Their children, hope and revel in their place. 
 
 But thou art still the same; thy spirit's youth 
 
 Remains unbowed, enamoured still of truth; 
 
 Thy heart of dreams unchangeable, thine age 
 
 Not less romantic, nor thy youth less sage. 
 
 And worldly wisdom leaves untainted still 
 
 Thy pious mind, and innocence of will ; 
 
LETTER FROM MRS. FLETCHER. 177 
 
 All this thy dramas show, and yet I deem 
 Thee less for poet formed, than poet's theme. 
 
 Sinclair Cullen, 1826. 
 
 A characteristic letter from our Mother, and a fatherly P. S. 
 
 " December, 1825. 
 
 "I must begin by scolding you for not sending your letter 
 in time for the post-bag. Yesterday's post-bag was a blank to 
 me. Then I will not scold dear aunty for wishing to keep you 
 longer, but we must have you home before Christmas. Good 
 Miss P. has agreed to come to aunt when you leave her. It 
 will be four months since I pai'ted from you, and indeed, indeed 
 I cannot let you stay longer from home. 
 
 " This has been a barren week with us as well as with you, 
 the snow, sleet, drizzling rain, and mist, so bad that Missy and 
 I have had no walks together to the village. A letter from 
 Miss Wesley about the Dramas has been the only gratifying 
 circumstance. Truly, dear child, I begin to fear these gratify- 
 ing letters are not for my soul's good; they please me more 
 than they ought to please one who has lived more than half a 
 century. If Margaret and you had allowed me to get a good 
 trimming fi'om some practised jxecutioner, in the character of 
 a scornful, contemptuous reviewer, it might have done me more 
 good than all the flattering unction that I have taken to my soul. 
 The way that I discover it has done me no good is from a 
 feeling of disappointment, when no notice is taken of my little 
 book by those to whom I have sent it. All who know me 
 agree with Mrs. Grant, that the book is a metrical transcript 
 of the author's mind. Still, like all otherworldly gratifications, 
 this has its dangers, if it makes me less distrustful of myself, 
 less lowly-minded. I pray fervently against this temptation. 
 On the whole, the plays have certainly met with much more 
 praise than I or any of you expected; and if I know myself at 
 all, much of the gratification their approval has afforded is the 
 pleasure your father and all our children have had in it. ' ' 
 
 To this our father adds : — 
 
 " Tell our very kind aunt that we are very sorry to deprive 
 8* L 
 
178 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 her of your society, but we have an unconquerable longing for 
 your coming home after so long an absence. I hope you do 
 not think of going to Ripon. If I thought you could bestow 
 time to go there, I would not agree to your leaving aunt so 
 soon. If you cannot get a companion in a post-chaise, my wish 
 would certainly be that you should travel by yourselves in a 
 chaise, and not go a mile in the dark. If you cannot think of 
 this, the mail is certainly the safest. A. F." 
 
 The following part of a letter from T. Campbell at this time 
 shows how much he valued my mother's friendship, and also 
 the tyranny exercised by the two leading Reviews of the day, 
 as well as the pain their verdict inflicted on sensitive minds, 
 even in this case, on one of such established fame as the author 
 of "Gertrude of Wyoming " and " HohenUnden :" — 
 
 Thomas Campbell to Mrs. Fletcher. 
 
 "Seymouk Street London, March, 1825. 
 
 " Is it very unmanly in me, my dear friend, to feel cut and 
 sore at the hard injustice, as I think, which has been dealt to 
 me in the Quarterly Review of Theodoric? Read the article, 
 and either your opinion must have been converted, or I imagine 
 you will be indignant at the assertion that Theodoric is but a 
 bold dragoon, and Julia and Constance are but so-and-so. I 
 received your favorable opinion of the poem, my dear Mrs. 
 Fletcher, with a degree of pride which has perhaps made my 
 mind more sensitive than it would otherwise have been to this 
 affront. It makes me feel the injustice of it to be the grosser. 
 What! has it touched your intellectual heart, and is a heartless 
 reviewer to say uncontradicted that the work is uninteresting? 
 But I must say that I address you now as the being who best 
 miderstood, and who I foresaw would best understand, all the 
 moral beauty of my characters. Forgive this if it look like 
 either vanity or flattery. It is certainly not meant to be the 
 latter. Theodoric was the production of what I may call the 
 maturity of my moral feelings. All my life I have speculatively 
 seen that the calm of mind produced by our cherishing the 
 pure and kindly affections, and dismissing as far as it is possible 
 
LETTER FROM THOMAS CAMPBELL. 179 
 
 all personal hatreds, is the only balm of this otherwise wretched 
 existence. I believe a rebuke from yourself ou the score of my 
 being satirical was the first cause of my beginning to practise 
 this truth. Imperfectly, I confess to you, I have practised it. 
 I think I ought to say nothing for myself, but I ask your advice 
 if anything can be said for me. It is no answer to say that 
 Jeffrey's high praise is all set down to the score of his partiality 
 for me. In fact, between ourselves, he does not understand 
 the poem. Any one who can say that Constance is the same 
 as Gertrude is obtuse on the subject. Constance is meant for 
 a great moral character, with whom it was requisite to have 
 been long acquainted 
 
 ' Before the mind completely understood 
 That mighty truth — how happy are the good.' 
 
 " These lines I knew would find an echo of sympathy in your 
 mind. I have drawn the tears of approbation from your eyes, 
 and from those of other women something resembling you in 
 character. The only difficulty in the way of the office at which 
 I hint is the repugnance which I can well imagine you will feel 
 at giving publicity to your literary opinion ; but an expression 
 of sincere approbation from some intellectual mind and heart 
 is, I humbly think, due — thorfgK still I shall not be offended 
 with you if you tell me the contrary. 
 
 " God bless you. I am already better for this confession of 
 my feelings. — Yours, T. C." 
 
PART lY. 
 
 About a month after my husband's death Mary and I 
 left Auchindinny with many tears. It had been a blessed 
 home to us for five years, and we left it uncertain as to 
 our future plans, and with that feeling of desolateness which 
 the breaking up of such a home involves. We had enjoyed 
 much and we had suffered much there. We had formed 
 several warm friendships among our poor neighbors, and 
 we had enjoyed the visits of many valued friends, from far 
 and near. Dear Mrs. Erskine, the widow of Henry Erskine 
 and the sister of Sir Thomas Monro, was a frequent guest, 
 a delightful companion to old and young. Mr. Fletcher 
 delighted in her society, and so did my daughters. She 
 cheered the latter years of her distinguished husband as no 
 one else could have done, for she understood all his wit and 
 wisdom, and supported him under many family trials by 
 her unfailing sweetness and genuine piety. We had fre- 
 quent visits from that delightful thinker, writer, and con- 
 verser, Thomas Erskine of Linlathen, to whom we were so 
 deeply indebted for the kind interest he took in my son 
 Angus during the dangerous illness he had at Eome in 1827. 
 T. Erskine and my old friend Mr. Clowes were more of 
 kindred spirits than any men of spiritual natures I have 
 met with in life. Dear Mrs. Grant of Laggan, and her 
 daughter Mary, who had all her genius and more refinement, 
 were often with us. We there first became acquainted with 
 
LETTER TO DR. FRANCIS BOOTT. 181 
 
 Professor Sedgwick and Dr. "VVhewell, who came together 
 to Auchindinny ; and we used to benefit by the neighbor- 
 hood of the excellent family of Cowan at Penicuik, whose 
 intimacy with Dr. Chalmers often brought him there, both 
 to preach and shed the genial influence of his conversational 
 powers among their friends and neighbors. 
 
 After spending a week with my son Miles in Edinburgh 
 we joined Mrs. Taylor and Margaret at Tadcaster, taking 
 my grandson, Archibald Taylor, with us. His mother had 
 no wish to return to Edinburgh, and I felt it to be my first 
 duty now to devote myself for the present to alleviate, if 
 possible, the sufferings of the aunt who had taken a mother's 
 care of me in my infancy. 
 
 I took lodgings at Thorp Arch, a pleasant village four 
 miles from Tadcaster, where there was a good day-school 
 at which my grandson could go on with his education, near 
 his mother's lodgings. One of her sisters remained with 
 her, and one with me by turns in my aunt's house so that 
 we were all within an easy reach of each other, and had the 
 variety of frequent meetings. ^, 
 
 [ To Dr. Francis Boott. 
 
 " Tadcaster, April, 1829. 
 "My dear Friend, — I can no longer withhold my con- 
 gratulations to you on the grand event — the Catholic Relief 
 Bill. Who would have supposed that the Clare Election and 
 the Irish Association would have opened the eyes of the blind 
 and made the dumb to speak? The conquest of prejudice and 
 the sacrifice of consistency to public good are honorable indeed 
 to the present leaders in both Houses of Parliament. Truer 
 patriotism than Wellington's and Peel's I do not remember, 
 unless it is O'Connell's, who has nobly sacrificed popularity in 
 declining to insist on his right to sit in Parliament in virtue 
 of his late election rather than throw any impediment in the 
 way of the great measure. 
 
182 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 " But while we laud the public virtue of the chat^ipions of 
 this Bill, what shall we say of the base artifices used to stir up 
 the people against it? If the Church is in danger, it is her 
 own sons who have by their unchristian spirit created that 
 danger. A friend just returned from Ireland assures me he 
 never saw that country so tranquil and contented. Jt is a gener- 
 ous people, and surely a grateful people. You would see a 
 meeting has been held in Dublin to vote an estate to O'Connell 
 as a reward for his public services, that he may be an indepen- 
 dent Member of Parliament. The resolutions were moved 
 alternately by Catholics and Protestants. 
 
 '' Let us hear of yourself, of dear Mrs. Boott and your pre- 
 cious children. We are all recovering health and spirits after 
 our great sorrows. We love each other so dearly that for each 
 other's sake we do not dare to indulge in grief. Those we 
 mourn are best honored by our endeavoring best to discharge 
 our remaining duties. 
 
 " You will be glad to hear your friend Angus is making 
 good progress in his profession. He has been living happily 
 and quietly for the last six weeks with our kind old friend Sir 
 Robert Listen, who has fitted up a studio for him at Millburn 
 Tower, and finds much interest in watching his progress. Sir 
 Robert is now a lonely man ; his wife and he both loved Angus, 
 and Angus venerates him, and they are good companions for 
 each other."] 
 
 Three months thus passed on, and my aunt was soothed 
 by my jiresence near her. Although unable to enjoy life 
 any longer, she became less unhappy. Any immediate 
 danger passed away, and we began to form some plans for 
 the future. I was very desirous that ray grandson should 
 have the advantage of the best education that could be had, 
 and where his mother could be near him. Dr. Arnold had 
 been appointed head-master of Rugby School not long 
 before, and after I read his pamphlet on " The Christian 
 Duty of Conceding the Roman Catholic Claims," which 
 ■was published about that time, I decided this was the 
 school for M6". Our cousin and friend, T. Shann, an old 
 
THE COTTAGE AT BILTON, NEAR RUGBY. 183 
 
 Rugbean who knew the neighborhood, undertook to find 
 a cottage for us within the school limits, where the boy 
 could have the advantages of the education of Rugby and 
 live at home with his mother. 
 
 I went to Rugby with my daughters Margaret and Mary, 
 early in May, to make arrangements for the future, and we 
 took possession of the cottage secured for us at Bilton the 
 following day. 
 
 We found our cottage dwelling a peaceful and refreshing 
 change to our wearied spirits. We knew no one there; 
 but " earth and sky " were blessings to us after a small 
 country town street, and we soon experienced the greatest 
 comfort and happiness in the society of Dr. and Mrs. 
 Arnold, who came to see us shortly after we were settled 
 at Bilton, she on her pony and he walking beside her. 
 
 I believe we were more than a week at Bilton before 
 any one called on us, and my daughters began to amuse 
 themselves by fearing that this new experience would not 
 agree with my sociable tastes. Meantime, T cultivated the 
 friendship of our good old Jajadlord, Mr. Daniell, our sub- 
 ject of common interest being birds' nests, which he loved 
 as much as I did, and kept carefully protected from the 
 ruthless hands of village boys; but he pointed them out 
 to me when I went out before breakfast into the little 
 garden on the fine May mornings. He was a widower, 
 and had no daughter, but he had a homely old housekeeper, 
 who made him most comfortable, in the adjoining cottage 
 to oiirs, and who paid him respectful attention. We did 
 not know, for some time, that he had suffered a grief like 
 that of '"Old Michael." His only son, also the child of 
 his age, had gone astray like Luke. My old friend, Mr. 
 Daniell, belonged to the same class as the statesman of 
 Westmoreland; with greater kindness than they gener- 
 ally show, "J^e also had found a comfort in the strength 
 
184 .4 UTOBIO GRAPHY. 
 
 of love." I am often reminded of him bj our favorite 
 neighbor, James Fleming of Grasmere. 
 
 An agi'eeable family, of the name of Boddington, lived 
 very near our cottage, at Bilton Hall, formerly the resi- 
 dence of Joseph Addison after his marriage to Lady 
 Warwick. These live sisters, all unmarried, lived together 
 in great comfort. Their habits and modes of life were 
 very different from ours, much more formal and precise. 
 TTlien we saw their fine powdered footman open their pew- 
 door and arrange their Prayer-books in exact order, and 
 the rive ladies walk into chur.ch. we said to each other, 
 *' These ladies will not approve of us." It soon, however, 
 pro\ed otherwise. They called the following day. We 
 returned it. were invited to the Hall. and. from being civil, 
 they became kind and sociable. We found them amiable, 
 intelligent, and well-bred, with a good deal of individu- 
 ality. To the poor they were exceedingly kind and 
 judiciously helpful ; and Ave always look back on their 
 kindness to us, as strangers, with gratitude. When they 
 first called on us, these ladies had a favorite niece stay- 
 ing witli them, along with her father, Mr. Boddington. 
 They went to their own home, in Shropshire, in a few 
 days, before we had time to know what a treasure this 
 niece was : but the impression had been made at first sight 
 on my daughter 3[arv's imagination, and the aunts en- 
 couraged the friendship by bringing Gracilla Boddington 
 to visit us. both at Keen Ground and afterwards in Kent, 
 and a warm friendship was formed, not only between the 
 young, but the old also, for I can truly say that we have 
 both found a blessing in Gracilla's affection and society. 
 She always reminded me of Milton's glorious sonnet " To 
 a Virtuous Young Lady," beginning — 
 
 " Lady that, in the prime of earliest youth, 
 AViselv has shunned the broad wav and the srreen." 
 
LETTETx TO MRS. CEAIG. 185 
 
 Ir lias been a great pleasure to me thvough life to make 
 friends of the friends of my ehildren, especially as time 
 takes away my own, and thus make "relays of friendship" 
 (as dear Benger used to say), and try to keep the heart 
 young by adopting the interest of the present; and it 
 has been a joy to me to know how many of nii/ friends 
 my children have loved, and been loved by. 
 
 It was during this pleasant month of June that Margaret, 
 Mary, and I made a sort of poetical pilgrimage to Olney 
 and Weston, to trace the haunts of our beloved Cowper 
 and his Mary. 
 
 [LetttT to Jlrs. Crai'ij. 
 
 " BiLTOX, June 14, 1829. 
 "It is now almost six weeks since we came here, and it is not 
 possible to imagine a place more suited to our purpose, or unit- 
 ing more agremens to our taste, than we have found here. 
 Our cottage, indeed, is small ; but you know how happy even 
 a large family can be in a small space. "We have a sweet 
 parlor, opening with a glass door into a grass plat and flower- 
 garden, — shut in from, but iiot excluding, a sight of one of the 
 prettiest of English villages. Our landlord (who has had a 
 liistory) does everything possible to make us comfortable ; 
 there never was so obliging a person. The Hall house, 
 formerly the residence of Joseph Addison, is now inhabited by 
 five maiden sisters of the name of Boddington. They are 
 judiciously kind to the poor, especially in regard to education, 
 and are very civil and attentive to us ; but our great delights 
 in the way of society are Dr. and Mrs. Arnold. They are 
 truly a charming couple. She reminds us continually of 
 Madame de Bossi in her frankness, vivacity, and quickness of 
 observation. She has the same sweetness of nature, and is not 
 unlike her in personal appearance, but on a larger scale. Dr. 
 Armild is quite lirst-rate in talents, worth, and agreeableness. 
 He published, three months ago, the best pamphlet that has 
 appeared on the Christian duty of granting Catholic Emancipa- 
 tion, and is now at intervals of leisure writing notes for a new 
 
186 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 edition of Thucydides, a work he had undertaken before he 
 •was chosen head-master of Rugby, ^^'ith all this learned and 
 literary labor he is most diligent in his calling. In his own 
 family he is delightful, always ready for conversation, liberal 
 in politics, and high-toned in morals. He has published a 
 volume of sermons, which we admire extremely, and we heard 
 him preach in the School chapel a most excellent and impres- 
 sive sermon to the boys. It is not, perhaps, the least of the 
 merits of this agreeable couple that they have taken to us in 
 the most cordial manner possible. We feel as if we had known 
 them as many years as we have actually done weeks. Our 
 next agreeable neighbors are the Moultries. He is the rector 
 of Rugby, and married a niece of my dear fi'iend Miss Fergus- 
 son, of Monkwood. They have also been most kind to us. 
 Mr. Moultrie is a very able man, and an accomplished scholar 
 and poet. We have made some pleasant excursions in the 
 neighborhood, for we have hired a double gig and a quiet 
 horse for two months, that Mrs. Taylor when she comes may 
 see a little farther than her feet would carry her. Our first 
 expedition was one of thirty miles, to Olney in Buckingham- 
 shire, to see the haunts of the poet Cowper. A\'e traced him 
 from his residence in the IMarket Place of that dull little town, 
 one of the most unpoetical situations you can imagine, to the 
 beautiful village of Weston, about two miles distant, where, in 
 going to look for a house for Lady Hesketh, he found one 
 which suited him and Mrs. Unwin."] 
 
 Before I returned to my post of duty at Tadcaster, the 
 end of July, we spent a few days at the School House at 
 Rugby, and partook of the home life of happiness enjoyed 
 there by our new but already dear friends, Dr. and Mrs. 
 Arnold. 
 
 It was a family custom retained from the Penrose house- 
 hold (Mrs. Arnold's old home) for each member of the 
 family to repeat or read a favorite hymn before the chil- 
 dren went to bed, and we were delighted to hear the 
 hymns from " The Christian Year " repeated by little Jane 
 Arnold and her brothers. 
 
DR. J. DAVY'S VISIT. 187 
 
 My daughters had become great admirers of " The 
 Christian Year" before this time, and we then heard all 
 about the college friendship and intimacy between Mr. 
 Keble and Dr. Arnold, who always called him " dear old 
 Keble," and they both spoke of him with peculiar love and 
 admiration. Mr, Keble came as one of the Oxford Ex- 
 aminers of the school that summer to the Arnolds, and my 
 daughters had the gratification of meeting him at the 
 School House, as they remained a few weeks at Bilton 
 after I left it. We still retained the cottage for the year 
 we had taken it, although our family plans had been 
 changed by Mrs. Taylor having decided to rejoin her 
 husband, then employed in Ireland ; her son was therefore 
 placed at one of the master's houses in the town of 
 Rugby. 
 
 In October, 1829, I had a letter from our old friend Dr. 
 John Davy, who had gone from Malta, where he was then 
 stationed, to attend Sir H. Davy during a long illness he 
 had at Rome, and was travelling home with his brother 
 when Sir Humphry was ^seized by a severe attack of 
 illness at Geneva, and died there on their homeward 
 journey. 
 
 Dr. Davy offered me a visit, which I gladly accepted, 
 having been in the habit of corresponding with him from 
 the time he graduated at Edinburgh in 1814. 
 
 I had returned to Bilton for a few weeks to refresh my 
 spirits before winter, Mary having taken my place at Tad- 
 caster during my absence. Dr. Davy said he wished to 
 read to me a MS. his brother had left to him for publica- 
 tion which he greatly admired. My dear old friend Miss 
 Fergusson had joined my daughter Margaret and me at 
 Bilton Cottage, and as we happened to be snowed up for 
 some days early in the winter, we had full time to listen 
 to and admire " The Consolations in Travel," read to us 
 
188 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 by tlie brother of the distinguished philosopher, and read 
 with a degree of emotion at times which excited a new 
 interest in the man who felt as he did the loss of his friend 
 and brother. Dr. Davy went to London from Bilton to 
 publish the volume, and asked permission to visit us again 
 in Yorkshire on his way to Edinburgh, before his return 
 to Malta, 
 
 On our way back to Tadcaster in December, Margaret 
 and I paid a very interesting visit at the Parsonage at 
 Bracebridge to Mr. and Mrs. Penrose.-"- She was my 
 friend Mr. Cartwright's second daughter. She was at the 
 time I speak of a happy wife, and the mother of three 
 promising sons, a most delightful woman, with a lively, 
 active, accomplished mind, and the most engaging sweet- 
 ness and simplicity of manners. She had married Mrs. 
 Arnold's eldest brother, a learned and estimable man. 
 This renewal of intercourse was a great pleasure to me. 
 
 [^Extract from Mrs. John Penrose's Diary, after a visit from 
 her Father's old friend. 
 
 " Bracebridge, December IQth, 1829. 
 " We had the great gratification of a visit of two days from 
 Mrs. Fletcher. Her appearance is so engaging, that the mere 
 looking at her is itself a pleasure. In her youth she was 
 brilliantly beautiful (she is about sixty) ; she retains so much 
 symmetry of feature, so much fine expression of countenance, 
 and so much grace of deportment, such a gentle-womanliness of 
 manner, wi^h such an expression of goodness, as make her 
 absolutely lovely. She is rather fat than thin, and her beauty 
 is matured more than faded. Her conversation is delightful, 
 full of variety and anecdote. She is an enthusiast in politics, 
 and on what is called the Liberal side, but there is such a 
 feminineness in all she says and does, that even her politics 
 could not alloy the charm of her agreeableness. She has a 
 
 1 Tlie " Mrs. Markham," author of School Histories. 
 
RETURN TO TAD CASTER. 189 
 
 most extensive acquaintance with literary persons, and her 
 conversation is a stream of lively anecdote continually flow- 
 ing."] 
 
 When we arrived at Tadcaster we were soon followed 
 by Dr. Davy, whose correspondence and persuasion had 
 overcome Margaret's hesitation to commit her happiness to 
 his keeping. As he wished to see his friends in Edinburgh, 
 and to settle some matters of business with my son Miles, 
 Mary, who was going to visit her brother, accompanied Dr. 
 Davy there. We had heard from Miles and his wife of his 
 increased illness, but I had taken no serious alarm till Dr. 
 Davy's return, when, in answer to my inquiries about him, 
 I saw by the expression of his countenance that there was 
 great danger in his case, and he confessed he thought so. 
 This was a terrible blow to me. Miles's life was infinitely 
 precious and valuable to us all ; he was in the prime of life, 
 then thirty-seven. My hopeful temper forbade despair 
 of his recovery, and Mary's letters from Edinburgh were 
 encouraging. 
 
 Dr. Davy left us for Loiidon in a few days, as his leave 
 of absence from his professional duties at Malta was very 
 limited. The marriage was fixed to take place on the 8th 
 of March. A strange state of conflicting feelings takes 
 place in a mother's heart in the approaching marriage of 
 a beloved daughter. Her own loss is certain, the gain of 
 happiness to her child must always be uncertain ; but 
 where there is soundness of principle and understanding, 
 and great afiectionateness of heart, marriage (always a 
 lottery) seems the best chance of happiness for a woman 
 who, when she has lost her parents and near domestic ties 
 and duties in the paternal home, too often experiences 
 " that hung^ of the heart," that want of obj ect in life, 
 which nothing but a kind husband and affectionate chil- 
 di'en can supply. Hence it is that a mother sacrifices her 
 
190 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 own present to her daughter's prospective happiness, and 
 with a sad but trusting hope gives up the first place in her 
 child's affections to another. 
 
 Some weeks passed on in marriage preparations. Miles 
 and Mary, and then Angus, arrived. If Miles's altered 
 looks the year before had struck and pained me, this was 
 much more the case when I saw him now. My hopes of 
 his recovery were fainter, but in sympathy with the occa- 
 sion that brought him he was in good spirits, and never 
 complained of illness or pain. He gave his sister in 
 marriage to Dr. Davy on the 8th of March, 1830, in the 
 same church where her parents had been united. 
 
 The wedded pair ' set off immediately after the ceremony, 
 and Miles, Mary, and I posted the following day en route 
 for London, while Angus went to Sir Robert Liston's 
 kind home. We paid a short visit to our dear friends at 
 Rugby on our way, and also at Oxford, which Miles much 
 enjoyed. He had never been in London until now, and I 
 was very desirous he should have the advice of Dr. Marshall 
 Hall, who besides his great reputation at the time, was one 
 of those who, I felt sure, would take a deep and friendly 
 interest in the case. A successful London career had never 
 weakened Dr. Hall's recollection of his student life in 
 Edinburgh, where he thought I had been of some use to 
 him, and he never failed to show his sense of this, by the 
 most friendly attention and able professional aid on many 
 occasions to different members of my family. 
 
 I took lodgings at Haike's Hotel, Duke Street, in the 
 hope that dear Miles might have enjoyed seeing something 
 of London in a quiet way, but he was quite unable for it, 
 and was confined to his room by a sore throat when the 
 Davys joined us. This however was an accidental ailment, 
 not connected with his malady. He submitted with the 
 most patient unselfishness to the disappointment of not 
 
VISIT TO LONDON AND PARIS. 191 
 
 seeing London when in it at last. With the most generous 
 consideration for the indulgence of others, he habitually 
 exercised self-restraint, and was singularly inexpensive in 
 his habits ; while he had the greatest pleasure in making 
 kind presents and in relieving the poor, he was as free 
 from ostentation as he was from selfishness. 
 
 It was with the utmost reluctance that I could make up 
 my mind to leave Miles ill iand alone in London, and I pro- 
 posed to remain with him, and let Mary accompany the 
 Davys to Paris, and return with our cousin, Mr. T. Shann, 
 who was to be of our party. I remember the earnest way 
 in which he begged me not to give ixp the plan of going to 
 Paris, saying he especially wished me to go, as I might 
 never again have an opportunity of seeing General Lafay- 
 ette, and he knew we had good introductions to that great 
 man ; besides, he added, " My wife is only too anxious to 
 come, and I promise you to summon her, if I am not better, 
 to-morrow." This decided me to go. and I heard of his wife 
 having joined him when we arrived in Paris : she had, in- 
 deed, set off the day we lef t Jdendon. 
 
 I felt in a strange dream when I got to Paris, the scene, 
 in my early married life, of such high hopes and bitter dis- 
 appointments. We all felt more disposed to turn to the 
 living actors left of those times than to see sights ; and, to 
 assist my memory, I have recourse to our journal at the 
 time. Owing to Chevalier Masclet's kindness, we paid a 
 most interesting visit to the Abbe Gregoire, and were not 
 disappointed in the deportment and conversation of this 
 venerable member of the Constituent Assembly, and known 
 by them as L'Ami des Noirs. He seemed to be holding a 
 sort of levee, and soon after our arrival a free African from 
 Hayti was announced, a youth who was attending the 
 University of Paris. The Abbe spoke of our Clarkson 
 with great admiration and pleasure, and we felt it to be a 
 
192 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 real gain to have seen so beautiful an example of serene old 
 age. He was, as Thomas Erskine told us, very much one's 
 idea of Fenelon, courteous, polished, full of benevolence and 
 kind feeling for good men of all countries and colors. 
 
 The Misses Garnet, some American ladies to whom we 
 had brought letters of introduction, called to say General 
 Lafayette would call on me at four o'clock. He came at 
 that hour, and conversed most agreeably till six. "VVe were 
 all delighted with the mildness, benevolence, and ease with 
 which this great and good man entered into conversation, 
 expressing, without the least egotism, the most liberal and 
 extensive views. He spoke of a new colony for the recep- 
 tion of liberated Negroes on the coast of Africa, called 
 it " his daughter Liberia," and expressed the deepest in- 
 terest in its success. We all went the same evening to a 
 soiree at General Lafayette's, between nine and ten p. m. 
 The suite of rooms, four of which were open, were much 
 crowded, and the noise greater than at an English recep- 
 tion. Chairs were placed round the second room, close to 
 the wall, where the ladies sat. The middle of the room 
 was filled by men, vociferating with great energy to each 
 other ; many of these were distinguished members of the 
 Chamber of Deputies. We were introduced to Benjamin 
 Constant, very intellectual-looking, but in feeble health. 
 He had a sickly, melancholy appearance, like one weary 
 of the world — and no wonder. 
 
 We continued to receive the kindest attention from the 
 family of General Lafayette while we remained in Paris. 
 His daughter, Madame de Lasteyrie, sometimes came to 
 our hotel in the evening for an hour or two, and delighted 
 to speak of her father. She said he enjoyed his retirement 
 at La Grange extremely ; and there, surrounded by his 
 grandchildren, and occupied with the cultivation of his estate, 
 he passed a happy and serene old age. 
 
GENERAL LAFAYETTE AND MIGNET. 193 
 
 There was something morally sublime in the contempla- 
 tion of a character so pure and devoted as Lafayette's, so 
 clear of party feeling, so free from egotism, so unspoiled by 
 popularity, so unsoured by adversity and ingratitude. 
 
 We were at that time (April, 1830) little aware that 
 General Lafayette was again so soon to be placed at the 
 head of the National Guards on the memorable three days 
 of July in that year, when the destinies of France in the 
 choice of an Executive Government were committed to 
 those over whom he presided. 
 
 When we saw him he expressed his entire confidence 
 and satisfaction at the enlightened state of public opinion 
 in France ; he said the people were now too well informed 
 to admit of the Government taking measures subversive of 
 their liberties ; and that Frenchmen had paid too dearly 
 for their rights not to know how to cherish them. The 
 tone of General Lafayette's conversation was more remark- 
 able for mildness, moderation, and good sense, than for 
 eloquence or brilliancy, but it gave me the impression of 
 earnestness and honesty, and-a hopefulness wonderful even 
 to me after all he had seen and suffered. The opinions of 
 Mignet the historian, whom we met, with several other dis- 
 tinguished literary men, at the evening receptions of Miss 
 Clarke (now Madame Mohl), were more in accordance with 
 the events which have since taken place at Paris than with 
 the hopes of the sanguine general and patriot. Our journal 
 records on Saturday, 9th April — " We met at Miss Clarke's, 
 in the Rue Petite, St. Augustin, Mignet, the historian of 
 the French Revolution." He is a man of about five-and- 
 thirty, of a noble countenance, and very simple engaging 
 manners. He has no other profession than that of litera- 
 ture. His society is much sought, but he prefers retire- 
 ment, and he is indeed not a man of the world, but he is 
 singularly animated and eloquent in conversation, not for 
 
 9 M 
 
194 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 the sake of display, but from the interest he takes in the 
 subject of which he speaks. He contended that nations, 
 no more than individuals, have been ever known to profit 
 by experience from the misfortunes of others. He thought 
 the granting Catholic emancipation to Ireland was the only 
 excerption. The English Government had profited by the 
 experience of the Irish Rebellion of 1790. Mignet is now 
 engaged in writing the History of Henry IV., and the 
 religious feuds of that period. It is creditable to the 
 present state of society and manners in Paris to hear of 
 the high estimation in which men of real literary merit 
 are held. Literature gives a man the first rank in society, 
 and wealth is not essential to him. Bookmaking as a trade 
 meets with no encouragement. The honor of a seat in 
 the National Institute, and a distinguished place in the 
 best scientific and literary circles, are the rewards of in- 
 tellectual eminence in Paris. Authorship in France seems 
 to be a more honorable than gainful profession. The copy- 
 right of books is much cheaper than works of the same 
 merit would be in England. I was told that the law 
 which divides the property of families into equal shares is 
 gradually efi^ecting a degree of equality which is not known 
 in the other countries of Europe. So far as we could learn, 
 this division of property by the law of inheritance does not 
 relax industry nor lead to prodigality ; on the contrary, it 
 leads to moderation. 
 
 We saw a number of the so-called charitable institutions 
 of Paris supported by the State. Many, such as the deaf 
 and dumb, and blind, were evidently beneficent and well 
 conducted ; but one did fill me with horror, and did more 
 to make me hopeless of the future of Paris, if not of France, 
 than any thing I heard or saw there. The first we went to 
 see was that known by the name of Les Enfans Trouves. 
 Nothing could exceed the neatness of the apartments. It 
 
PARIS AND ITS INSTITUTIONS. 195 
 
 was truly a " whited sepulchre." Each infant was in a 
 separate crib, and the curtains were white and clean, but 
 there is no describing the effect of the little wailing cries 
 of the poor deserted babes ; the low faint sound of distress 
 from all sides was most appalling. One of the soeurs de la 
 charite was in the apartment ; we involuntarily drew aside 
 the curtains of one poor infant, whose low deep moanings 
 were peculiarly affecting. The sister of charity lifted it up, 
 and said, smiling, " It is dying." I besought her earnestly 
 to give it some natural food, that of the breast, for the 
 mouth of the child moved in search of it. She said, with 
 much sweetness and composure, " It has a sore mouth, and 
 would infect the nurse ; it is dying." It was long before 
 I could think of any thing but the famished look of that 
 miserable infant, and I left the Institution with a firm per- 
 suasion that many children are suffered to perish there from 
 inanition. I was powerless to do any thing but write a 
 letter to Madame De Pastoret, who gave us the order of 
 admission. Count Philip Ugohi promised to translate and 
 read my letter to her, as^she had requested to have my 
 opinion of that and the institution for young delinquents. 
 The demoralizing effect of this institution is perhaps more 
 to be reprobated than the indilFerence to human life which 
 we observe within its walls. That there should be in 
 Christian Europe, and in a city famed above all others for 
 its civilization and refinement, little less than seven thou- 
 sand mothers every year capable of abandoning their infants 
 at the moment of their birth, is a melancholy fact. It is 
 not to be supposed that many of these mothers could bring 
 themselves to put their children to a violent death with 
 their own hands. This cruel institution, therefore, furnishes 
 them with an apology for licentiousness. They send their 
 superfluous offspring to an early grave within the precincts 
 of this hospital, or to a life of sorrow and abandonment if 
 
196 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 they are strong enough to live. We were told by one of 
 the managers of this institution that from twenty to thirty 
 infants were received every twenty-four hours ; there were 
 eighty-seven when we visited the place, all of whom had 
 been received within the last three days. Every third day 
 these deserted babes are placed in hammocks, swung up 
 inside a large caravan, and sent into the country to be 
 nursed. Four hundred francs a year is given to the foster- 
 parent till they are twelve years old, and then the allow- 
 ance from the hospital ceases. We were told that one-third 
 die within the third day of their reception there. Many 
 of these mothers were supposed — from the dress in which 
 the children came — not to be in distressed circumstances, 
 but prefer this to the incumbrance and expense of a large 
 family. 
 
 \_To Mrs. Thomson. 
 
 " London, May ilh, 1830. 
 " I must leave Mary to give you the sequel of our adven- 
 tures in Paris ; she alleges I did not enjoy it sufficiently. The 
 fact is, it excited me too much. I never felt myself old till I 
 went to Paris. I wanted to find people to talk to me about 
 the Federation in the Champs de Mars — about the fall of the 
 Bastile — the scenes that took place at the Hotel de Ville ; 
 but I could find no one that knew or oared about them, and in 
 vain we searched through many a shop and book-stall for ' Les 
 Jours de la Revolution,' the little book you recommended to 
 us. We had great enjoyment, however, in various ways, and 
 I shall enjoy it more at Bilton than I did in Paris. You will 
 be glad to hear that General de Lafayette entirely approves 
 of Fanny Wright's conduct in taking her Negroes to Hayti. 
 He gave her a letter of introduction to the President Boyer, of 
 whom he has a good opinion ; and he hopes by her energy and 
 the influence of her talents she will establish a good under- 
 standing between the Government of Hayti and that of the 
 United States, so as to facilitate the settlement of the Negroes 
 
' MILES 'S INCREASED ILLNESS. 197 
 
 in that country. He lamented her connection with the Owens, 
 but spoke of her with great respect and interest."] 
 
 Some weeks after our return to Yorkshire, in the sum- 
 mer of 1830, Mary went to pay a visit to Mrs. Taylor, in 
 Ireland, and in September I set off for Scotland, having 
 heard from Mrs. Miles Fletcher that Miles had been strongly 
 advised by Dr. Marshall Hall to spend the winter in a 
 milder climate, but that he would not consent to leave his 
 boys, and that thus the hope of his health benefiting by 
 the change recommended could not be accomplished. This 
 decided me at once to offer to take charge of the boys in 
 their absence. No time was to be lost, as the days were 
 shortening, and I at once sent Angus to bring his sister 
 Mary from Ireland to meet me in Edinburgh ; and my offer 
 being gladly accepted by Miles and his wife, I set off at 
 once. 
 
 I had not seen dear Miles from the time we had parted 
 in London, and I was greatly shocked at the change in his 
 appearance, though he was notuncheerful. He was rejoiced 
 to see me, and spoke hopetully of the benefit he expected 
 to derive' from going to Jersey. 
 
 On the 1st October, 1830, I accompanied my dear Miles 
 to enter his son Henry at the New Academy. He was a 
 cheerful little fellow, not quite eight years old ; and I well 
 remember his father's glistening eye as he saw him receive 
 his ticket of admission and take the place his number gave 
 him in the class. Mary soon joined us from Ireland, and 
 we entered on our unexpected duties. It was a very 
 mournful time for both of us ; but we felt it was all^ we 
 could do for one we dearly loved ; and although we declined 
 all invitations, we received much kind attention from old 
 friends of all degrees, and had the pleasure of becoming 
 intimate with Susan Ferrier, the good and agreeable author 
 of " Marriage " and " Inheritance," novels of much humor 
 
198 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 and ability, and greatly admired at the time. Miss Ferrier 
 took a most friendly interest in my grandsons for their 
 mother's sake, whose intimate friend she had been from her 
 early days. 
 
 Three months thus passed. My son's health did not 
 improve ; and, besides his desire to be at home, he wished 
 to relieve me from the charge I had undertaken ; and this 
 was rendered more easy, as, from the change of Ministry, 
 the Duke of Argyll had been appointed Keeper of the Great 
 Seal for Scotland, and, without solicitation, he appointed 
 Miles his Deputy Keeper. This was a very desirable event, 
 as sickness had destroyed his prospects at the Bar. He 
 wrote me a cheerful letter on reaching London, on his way 
 home, and said that " his satisfaction on his appointment 
 would be complete when he received my congratulations 
 upon it." He and his wife paid a short visit to the dear 
 old aunt who always delighted in him, on their way home, 
 but he gave us so bad an account of her state that he did 
 not urge my remaining many days, but asked me to leave 
 Mary with him, which I did, she being at the time not able 
 to travel from illness. My spirits were supported by feel- 
 ing equal to the work God had apjiointed me to do — to 
 watch over the kindest of friends to me and mine ; and, as 
 usual, she revived on my return to her, from the comfort of 
 knowing I was near her. 
 
 \_To her daughter Mary, in JEdinburgh, 
 
 " Tadcaster, May 7th, 1831. 
 " T was indebted to Mrs. Dundas for procuring me a ticket 
 for the High Sheriff 's box on the hustings yesterday, for a 
 most glorious day at York. Before I set out with Archy I 
 had the very great satisfaction to receive the letter you sent 
 me from ISIalta ; mine has never appeared yet. Thank you, 
 dearest Mary, for the relief your kind attention gave me, 
 
GENERAL ELECTION AT YORK. 199 
 
 but we have three long weeks to wait before we can hear of 
 her safety. We must pray, and trust in unfailing mercy. 
 Well, I have had many adventures since I wrote to you — first, 
 a call from Mr. Strickland, on his way to canvass the West 
 Hiding — he was very agreeable, and full of kindly recollections 
 of us in early days at Edinburgh ; then, last Saturday, a 
 most friendly visit from Mrs. Dundas ' after her husband's 
 election, offering me a seat on the hustings if she could get 
 tickets ; then, on Sunday, a long visit again from Mr. Strickland 
 on his return from his triumphal progress through the West 
 Ridino', with divers amusing anecdotes and incidents that 
 occurred on his canvass. He took luncheon here, and left 
 me about five o'clock. Then the last fortnight has been full of 
 amusing episodes, stirring up a Reform committee in Noodle- 
 dum,^ the sub-committee in the blue parlor of aunty's house. 
 The full committee held their meetings at Backhouse's Inn. 
 They actually raised subscriptions large enough to send such 
 of the seventy freeholders from Tadcaster as could not afford 
 to pay their own expenses if a poll had been demanded ; but 
 Mr. Buncombe, the Tory candidate, happily thought fit to quit 
 the field on Thursday, so Ihat the immense tide of human 
 existence which rolled past this house from the West Riding 
 on Thursday afternoon, all Thursday night and yesterday 
 morning, were carried there by the impulse of enthusiastic 
 feeling in favor of the Reform BiU ; every one of that 
 immense multitude, five or six thousand at least, paying 
 their own expenses. Every wheeled carriage in Leeds was put 
 in requisition, and the number of carriages of every description 
 surpassed belief. Then the operatives on foot lined the road 
 and filled the streets of this town with their bands of music 
 and their shouts of triumph. On Thursday evening, as they 
 were passing, a heavy shower came on. All who had money 
 in their pockets took shelter in public-houses. Archy and I 
 observed two boys sheltering themselves under the gateway 
 opposite my aunt's house, with Reform colors — an orange card 
 — in their hats. The rain fell in torrents. We had just 
 finished our comfortable tea, and I sent Hannah to invite them 
 to tea in the kitchen. They were two young operatives, 
 1 Afterwards Countess of Zetland. 2 The family name for Tadcaster. 
 
200 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 croppers, out of work, but well-dressed lads, who had set oflf 
 to walk twenty-three miles without a shilling in their pockets. 
 They enjoyed their repast much, and when the rain was over 
 proceeded on their way to York. We reached York yesterday, 
 soon after nine o'clock. Mrs. Dundas, Mrs. Lane (one of Lord 
 Dundas's married daughters), Alexander Speirs of Elderslie, 
 and I, proceeded straight to the hustings. The Castle Yard 
 presented a noble sight ; not less than thirty thousand people, 
 1 was told, all of one mind. You will read the proceedings in 
 the Leeds Mercury better than I can give them. Lord Morpeth 
 is a most graceful and finished speaker. Sir J. Johnston 
 gentlemanly, but rather feeble. Mr. Ramsden sensible and 
 earnest, but not fluent. George Strickland manly, eloquent, 
 and fearless. He was the most popular with the West Riding 
 men. Good speeches were made by the proposers and 
 seconders of the nominations, but the most touching of all was 
 the anthem of ' God save the King,' sung by that assembled 
 multitude uncovered, and with a religious fervency I never 
 heard equalled in any place of worship. This was done simul- 
 taneously on the motion of Mr. Fawkes of Farnley, who is a 
 most eloquent and impassioned speaker. The streets were so 
 crowded it was not safe to return after the chairing of the 
 members in a carriage, so we all walked from the hustings to 
 Parsons' lodgings, where the Dundases are lodging, and then 
 took leave of them. What strange doings at the Edinburgh elec- 
 tion! You want a safety-valve in Scotland. Oh how tranquil 
 are popular elections even under the old system in England in 
 comparison of tlie close system in Scotland ! I am in daily 
 expectation of a vi^it from Sir Robert Liston, on his way down. 
 I see a letter from Angus addressed to him here. God bless 
 you, dearest Mary ; I hope you are warmer than we are. We 
 had a snow-storm yesterday. I am quite well, spite of all this 
 excitement ; indeed, enjoying it greatly, as a Yorkshire free- 
 holder ought to do."] 
 
 INIary johu'd me at Tadcaster in June, having left her 
 brother and his wife at a beautifully situated house they 
 had taken in Fife for a year, within an easy distance of 
 Edhiburgh by steam. We remained with aunty, and enjoyed 
 
DEATH OF MILES A. FLETCHER. 201 
 
 many walks to Oxton and 'Wighill together. In the middle 
 of August I was persuaded to pay a visit at Mr. Brooke's of 
 Armitage Bridge, while Mary remained at the post of duty. 
 
 I was sitting in the drawing-room there, looking over a 
 large volume of Grose's Antiquities, when Catherine 
 Laycock was called out of the room ; she returned, looking 
 very sorrowful, and said, " Your Mary has come with bad 
 news." I said, " Is poor aunty dead ? " Mary, who had 
 followed, replied, " No, dear mother, but Miles is worse, 
 and wishes to see us." I did not sink, but instantly 
 prepared for our journey. It was Saturday, the 20th 
 August, 1831. In half an hour we were on our way to 
 Edinburgh, posting day and night. We reached Borough 
 Bridge about midnight. I was so exliausted with sorrow 
 and fatigue that Mary persuaded me to throw myself on a 
 bed for an hour or two ; and we both felt strengthened by 
 it. About two A. M. we proceeded on our journey. That 
 day — Sunday the 21st — at three in the afternoon we 
 reached Percy's Cross, on^jthe road between the vale of 
 Whittingham and Wooler, that very relic of antiquity which 
 at that precise hour the day before we had been looking at 
 and talking about while turning over Grose's Antiquities. I 
 mention this as a curious coincidence. 
 
 We travelled all Sunday night, and reached Edinburgh 
 soon after sunrise on Monday morning. On arriving at 
 
 II Queen Street, Mary rang the bell, which was answered 
 by Angus, who had come there from Hillside to await our 
 arrival. Our dearest Miles died on Sa*^urday evening, the 
 20th August, 1831. Though faint and exhausted, we 
 could not rest till we proceeded by the first steamboat to 
 Aberdour and Hillside. Charlotte Fletcher was perfectly 
 calm ; the relief of tears had not come, and she was 
 miserably worn out. Once, only once, I saw the remains 
 of my dear, excellent, and beautiful Miles, but so unlike 
 
202 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 what he had been that I could scarcely have recognized a 
 trace of resemblance. The funeral took place on the 
 Thursday following. He was laid by his father and 
 Grace, and a baby of his own, in the cemetery of the Calton 
 Hill. 
 
 In the darkest hour of sorrow some human comfort is 
 often sent beyond that of the immediate family circle ; and 
 such we felt was the presence of Mary Campbell, an inti- 
 mate friend of the poor widow, and also of ours, as her father 
 had been one of my husband's earliest Edinburgh friends, 
 and I was greatly attached to his eldest daughter, Mary, 
 at the time I entered on my Edinburgh life. When Miles 
 felt his last hours approaching, he sent for this Sister of 
 Charity, " Santa Maria," as we always called her, to be with 
 his wife before our arrival ; and she remained with us, and 
 was of the greatest benefit to all, by the depth of her 
 human sympathy and her divine love. 
 
 Letter on her son Miles' s Death to Mrs. Davy at Malta, 
 from E. F. 
 
 "Hillside, August, 1831. 
 
 [After giving an account of our journey from Yorkshire, 
 travelling day and night, but arriving too late to see him alive, 
 our mother says: — 
 
 "Dearest M. , I could fill volumes with what is at the 
 bottom of my heart about our dear, dear Miles, but I cannot 
 now. I will send you a little memorial of him when time has 
 mellowed my grief. It will then be soothing to me to remember 
 him in the freshness and beauty of his youth, but he improved 
 in character in real life every year he lived ; sickness and dis- 
 appointment in his hopes of worldly prosperity most certainly 
 fixed his heart on God. He read his Bible much, and there 
 was a glowing light over his wasted features which showed the 
 peace within." 
 
LETTERS ON MILES 'S DEATH. 203 
 
 James Wilson writes to Angus : — 
 
 " I had fondly hoped that his malady, though partaking 
 of the nature of a mortal ailment, might have been so far 
 subdued or prevented from increasing, as that he might have 
 been spared even for years to gladden that circle in which, if 
 I may judge from my own feelings, he never appeared without 
 spreading joy and comfort. To me during many years in which 
 I had but few consolations, his presence was as sunshine to 
 the earth, and I cannot help feeling, notwithstanding the bless- 
 ings with which I am now surrounded, ' that my heart-strings 
 are broken.' 
 
 " When we arrived here at seven in the morning on the 
 22d of August we found Charlotte up, and more composed 
 than we could possibly have expected ; she continued so all 
 that day, and Tuesday and Wednesday. On Thursday, the 
 funeral day, she became very ill; her sensations were a light- 
 ness of the brain, which she thought indicated inflammation. 
 
 She desired Dr. P from Kirkcaldy to be sent for. I was 
 
 not present when he came, but Mary says she said to him with 
 great composure, ' Now, doctor, I believe I am going to lose 
 my senses; I think inflammation of the brain is coming on. If 
 it is so, I entreat you to tell me honestly, for I have some 
 directions to give and arrangements to make.' He assured 
 her the sensations she complained of were simply the effect of 
 sleeplessness, grief, and fatigue, and that perfect repose would 
 restore her. Dr. Christison agreed with this opinion when he 
 came, but she was in such a state of exhaustion that both 
 her doctors were alarmed about her. When her eyes were 
 closed I never saw any living thing so deadly — so pale, 
 emaciated, and unearthly. Our anxiety and care of her made 
 us in some measure forget our own deep affliction. She is now 
 able to be moved to a sofa while her bed is made; she can 
 converse a little, and is quite composed. She reads her Bible 
 much. She is very sweet in her manners towards Mary and 
 me. I must leave M. with her, Charlotte clings to her so 
 much." 
 
204 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 M. F. says in the same letter : — 
 
 " Poor Charlotte is very unselfish in her sorrow, so willing 
 to talk of all that is on her mind, and so soothed and gratified 
 hy the sympathy and the feeling of Miles's friends. She 
 dwells constantly on the parts of his character which were 
 indeed most striking: — His ' truth in the inward parts,' his 
 extreme delicacy of mind, his entire disinterestedness, and his 
 love of promoting the happiness of others, and finding his own 
 in so doing. We are very thankful that he had the enjoyment 
 of this place, and that the last objects his eyes rested upon 
 were such scenes of beauty as can scarcely be surpassed in 
 heaven. The last night he was up, he stood at the window 
 to look at the moonlight on the sea ; and after he was in bed 
 he said to Charlotte, ' I never saw a night that made such an 
 impression on me as this.' We have often remarked his simple 
 enjoyment in nature, and it seemed to have increased latterly 
 in strength. I am now very, very glad I was with him so 
 much last winter, although it has increased tenfold the sense 
 of his loss personally to myself, yet it also increased in the 
 same measure my appreciation of his character and my gratitude 
 for his kindness and sympathy in all that concerns us. I felt, 
 too, I was of use to him, as Charlotte was obliged to be absent 
 for some weeks, owing to Rawdon's state of health, at her 
 mother's house. I had not seen so much of dear Miles since 
 his marriage, and it was impossible to be with him and watch 
 his state of mind with regard to others, and himself, and not 
 feel he was ripening for Heaven. His deep love for and 
 gratitude to our mother quite satisfied me, as it would have 
 done you. 
 
 " Dear Mary Campbell is with us still, and is an unspeakable 
 comfort to the house in general. She has so much knowledge 
 of human infirmity as never to be surprised at it or impatient 
 with it. She is most valuable to the boys just now, and also 
 to Angus, and I am so glad our dearest mother has her near; 
 they can go back together in the family history farther than you 
 or I, and they walk together about these lovely grounds. I am 
 almost constantly in Charlotte's room, as Stewart, her maid, 
 needs rest during the day-time." 
 
LETTER TO MISS AIKIN. 205 
 
 To Miss Aikin, from Mrs. Fletcher. 
 
 " 1832. 
 " You know me too well to believe that I could either be un- 
 mindful of you, or ungrateful for the kind expression of your 
 sympathy which I received some weeks after it was written. 
 I was then both ill and so sorrowful that I did not wish to 
 distress my friends by my mournful communications, of various 
 kinds. You knew my dear Miles in the freshness and beauty 
 of his youth, and you were one of those who saw through the 
 apparent carelessness and gaiety of his character, — saw that 
 there was a fund of manly principle and good sense which 
 would one day lead to valuable results. You were right. A 
 higher and purer spirit never existed, and if he had labored 
 more in the acquirement of professional knowledge I should 
 have had nothing to regret, but that he was taken away just 
 when brighter prospects of professional success were opening 
 before him. Latterly, for the last four years, the declining 
 state of his' health incapacitated him for continued application. 
 He was a most beloved husband and father, son and brother, 
 a most trusted and constant friend, a friend of the poor in the 
 best sense, by taking trouble for them, and respected by all 
 who knew him for the purity and integrity of his life. I have 
 much comfort in the reflection that he lived to see better pros- 
 pects opening on his country, and that no action of his public 
 or private life was unworthy of his father's son."] 
 
 I remained with my aunt all winter : letters from Malta 
 and from Mary in Edinburgh were my only pleasures ; but 
 my duty at this time was a real pleasure to me, nor would 
 I have exchanged my life at Tadcaster then for any other. 
 
 The more I saw of my aunt Mary Hill at this time, the 
 more I revered the self-denial she practised, and the activity 
 and extent of her benevolence. My visits at the Grange 
 and to the poorhouse early in the day, were my only visits. 
 I discovered some abuses there, and got them remedied. 
 
 In the spring of 1832 Mary returned to me. Her 
 
206 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 health was shattered ; but between her severe attacks of 
 headache she recovered both her looks and vigor, and we 
 went in May to pay a promised visit to our dear friend Mrs. 
 Smith of Tent Lodge, Coniston. 
 
 It was at the time the Whigs, who had been striving 
 hard for the first Reform Bill, were, by the vacillation of 
 *William the Fourth, compelled to resign, and they were 
 for some weeks out of office. At this unexpected occur- 
 rence our Tory hostess rejoiced exceedingly, and then, 
 when Lord Brougham left the Woolsack with his party, I 
 offered a visit to my old and revered friend Mrs. Brougham, 
 telling Mrs. Smith I was not so much afraid of her making 
 an ungenerous use of her party ti'iumph as I was of my own 
 temper at her exultation. She replied, '' By all means, my 
 dear friend, go to Mrs. Brougham and condole with her, 
 but make haste to come back again." 
 
 We stayed a few days with Mrs. Brougham and her 
 agreeable daughter, both of whom received us with the 
 most frank and hospitable kindness. Newspapers and 
 letters from her sons came daily, and on the day we had 
 fixed to leave her, news came that the tide had turned. 
 The Whigs were again sent for, and the discussions on the 
 clauses of the Reform Bill were resumed. We were much 
 urged by Mrs. Brougham to remain another day, to see 
 her receive a procession of Whigs and Reformers from 
 Penrith, who had fixed on that day to come, with bands of 
 music and colors flying to hail the triumph of the good 
 cause, and to sympathize with her in the share her gifted 
 son had taken in the noble struggle. It was a strong 
 temptation to both of us, but we felt we ought not to 
 yield to our inclination to witness this demonstration 
 at Brougham, but returned to our kind Tory lady at 
 Coniston, in better spirits than when we left her, on public 
 grounds. 
 
LETTER TO MRS. THOMSON. 207 
 
 \_J'o Mrs. Thomson, from Mrs. Fletcher. 
 
 "Tent Lodge, Coniston, Mmj'iUt, 1832. 
 " On our return from Brougham Hall on Saturday evening I 
 had the satisfaction to find your kind letter. The very day we 
 read in the newspaper that the Whig Ministry had resigned I 
 wrote to offer Mrs. Brougham a visit. There was no one within 
 my reach that could so fully and entirely enter into the grief 
 and indignation I felt, not so much at Lord Grey's resigna- 
 tion, as at the monstrous audacity of the Duke of Wellington 
 undertaking to form an administration to carry the Bill against 
 which he had a few days before so strongly protested. Well, 
 Mary and I said to each other, if the country, if the House of 
 Commons, submit to this, England is not a country for an 
 honest man to live in. Under these impressions we set for- 
 ward last Thui-sday to Brougham, but at Keswick we met the 
 ■welcome news that the Duke could not form an administration. 
 The burst of honest and high feeling which prevailed in the 
 House of Commons when John Wood brought in the Manches- 
 ter petition, signed in three hours by twenty-five thousand 
 persons, praying the House to refuse supplies till the Reform 
 Bill was passed — when even the honest Tories scouted the idea, 
 of the Duke taking charge -crt" the Reform Bill — that night's 
 debate and the state of feeling in the country, as expressed 
 universally at public meetings all over England and Scotland, 
 set our hearts at rest, and we proceeded next day to Brougham, 
 not to condole with, but to congratulate the Chancellor's 
 mother on the proud position in which her son and his excellent 
 compeers stood from the moment of their resignation. That 
 ■was their point of glory, as Lord Brougham expressed it on 
 taking leave of the Chancery Bar, ' To relinquish power at the 
 call of public duty is not a misfortune but a glory.' The old 
 lady was as happy as the noble-minded mother of so noble- 
 minded a son deserves to be. We had heartfelt rejoicings to- 
 gether, and much pleasant chat about all our Edinburgh friends 
 and about what you would all be thinking and saying. Mrs. 
 Brougham pressed us most kindly to pi'olong our visit, but we 
 had promised to return here. The recall of the Grey Ministry 
 ■was not absolutelv secure when we left Brougham, but the 
 
208 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 
 
 people had willed it, and uie felt secure. We found your letter 
 and the report of the Edinburgh meeting on our return to our 
 good Tory friend. The spirit and intelligence of the Edinburgh 
 meeting is delightful. Reform in Scotland, and all the feeling 
 connected with it, is, as you may believe, nearer my heart than 
 anything else connected with public affairs."] 
 
 In October of this year, 1832, I became very uneasy 
 about the state of Mary's health, from Dr. Thomson's re- 
 port of it, and. with my aunt's entire approval, I left her 
 under the care of a kind friend and her own excellent maid, 
 and joined Mary in Edinburgh when she returned there, 
 with her sister-in-law, from Fife, where she had been for 
 the last month for sea-air and quietness. 
 
 I had the good fortune to travel north with one of the 
 most remarkable men of his time — The Honorable Mount- 
 Stuart Elphinstone. We had been some minutes in the 
 mail before we recogni-zed each other, and then there was 
 a most animated and delightful discourse carried on for 
 eight hours, during which an infinite variety of subjects 
 were discussed. He gave me much information quite new 
 to me about India. His acquaintance with men and books 
 seemed equally extensive, liberal, and unprejudiced, and 
 we parted at Durham with an impression on my mind that 
 he was one of the most intelligent men it had ever been 
 my good fortune to meet, and, beyond comparison, uniting 
 with this the most engaging and prepossessing manners. 
 Bishop Heber, who was so well able to judge of the attain- 
 ments of other men by the extent of his own, mentions 
 Mount-Stuart Elphinstone in his delightful Indian Jour- 
 nal as altogether the most accomplished man he had 
 ever known. We saw him frequently after this, both 
 in Edinburgh and London, and always with renewed 
 pleasure. 
 
 We established ourselves in pleasant lodgings in Forres 
 
VISIT TO EDINBURGH. 
 
 209 
 
 Street, near Moray Place, where Angus joined us for the 
 
 winter. 
 
 We received constant and tender attention from our old 
 friends in Edinburgh, especially from all the Thomson fam- 
 ily. Mrs. Thomson's loving sympathy much helped to cheer 
 Mary's winter, as she was obliged to keep almost entirely 
 in the recumbent position for several months. 
 
 It was during that winter, 1832-3, that the hustings 
 were erected for the first time at the Cross of Edinburgh 
 for the popular election of the members for the city, under 
 the new Reform Bill. I often took my three grandsons, 
 and explained to them how their grandfather and father 
 would have rejoiced to see that day, for the sake of the im- 
 provement of their country, and the security of its future 
 
 freedom. 
 
 At length, in December, 1832, came the day of election, 
 and we were kindly invited by the Lord Advocate and 
 Mrs. Jeffrey to their house in Moray Place, to see the 
 members brought home in triuhiph. The citizens of Edin- 
 burgh did themselves honof'ln choosing two such repre- 
 sentLtives as James Abercromby, the Speaker of the House 
 of Commons, and Francis Jeffrey, then Lord Advocate, 
 men not less eminent for their talents than for their 
 public spirit and courage in supporting the cause of 
 civil and religious liberty, both in and out of Parliament. 
 T scarcely felt equal to go, leaving Mary alone on that dajr 
 in our lodgings. Our kind Mrs. Thomson secretly con- 
 sulted her husband, and came with a cheery face early in 
 the day to say Dr. Thomson allowed his patient to go with 
 me to the chair or sofa oflfered her near the window by 
 Mrs. Jeffrey. It was a glorious sight for us to see these 
 truly honest men borne home amidst the acclamations of 
 tens of thousands of their grateful and emancipated 
 countrymen. We stood by them on the balcony of Mr. 
 
210 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Jeffrey's house while they shortly returned thanks to the 
 people. Few events ever excited me more than those 
 which took j^lace in Edinburgh at that time. Mary, in 
 the true spirit of a reformer's daughter, rose from the sofa 
 to which she had been condemned for five months, to wit- 
 ness the joyful scene, and she did not in the least suffer from 
 it. Nay, from that day she continued to be allowed more 
 freedom of action and exercise, and about the middle of 
 April was able to return with me to Tadcaster. 
 
 [Lord Cockburn's interesting " Memorials of his Own 
 Time" close before this election of his friend tTeffrey, "his 
 love for whom was passing the love of woman." He was more 
 excited by joy on that day even than we were ; and I well 
 remember his way of rushing into the drawing-room, and 
 looking round the crowd of Whig ladies and girls who were 
 present, and calling out, " Where 's Mrs. Fletcher? she 's the 
 woman that I want," and when my mother came from the 
 window to meet him, they clasped each other's hands and had 
 a good " greet " together; and not many words were said be- 
 fore there was a call for " Cockburn " from the crowd without, 
 and he went to the balcony to i-espond to the call, and made 
 a short speech of deep feeling which was cheered long and 
 loudly. — M. R. 
 
 From Thomas Campbell to Mrs. Fletcher. 
 
 "London, May 18, 1833. 
 
 •' I know that your interest in dear, yet glorious, though 
 fallen Poland, will be a sufficient recommendation to her most 
 illustrious poet, Niemskewitz, without a word from me ; but 
 as the venerable patriot and friend of Kosciusko also honors 
 Thomas Campbell with his friendship, I cannot help giving 
 myself the gratification of writing to you by him. 
 
 " I declare I can scarcely trust my thoughts with the mel- 
 ancholy subject of Poland. It has at different periods over- 
 agitated me, even to the loss of health ; and yet there 
 are some of the Polish patriot exiles the sight and friendship 
 
LETTER FROM THOMAS CAMPBELL. 211 
 
 of whom are a consolatory balm to my spirits. Among these, 
 the most valued are my brother poets Niemskewitz and the 
 Prince Czartorysky. It is some happiness to me to think that 
 the chosen spirits of Scotland, and amongst thetn yourself, mil 
 testify your regard for a sacred cause, and for human worth, 
 by attention to my venerable friend. 
 
 " I trust, my dear madam, that this will find you in good 
 health. I am this day returning thanks to Providence for fairly 
 feeling the return of that greatest of blessings. . . . 
 
 " I shall now resume the life of Mrs. Siddons, and shortly 
 begin to print, so as to have it out for certainty in October. I 
 am not sorry for the delay. It is no later than yesterday that I 
 discovered a probability — almost near a c^tainty — that 
 Shakespeare visited friends in the very town (Brecon in Wales) 
 where Mrs. Siddons was born, and that he there found in a 
 neighboring glen, called ' The Valley of Fairy Puck,' the prin- 
 cipal machinery of his ' Midsummer Night's Dream. ' 
 
 " It would give me pleasure to hear from and to see your 
 handwriting. I beg my best regards to all your family, and 
 remain, after thirty years' friendship, your sincerely attached, 
 
 " Thos. Campbell." 
 
 To Mrs. Davy, Malta. 
 
 " Tadcaster, 3c? May, 1833. 
 " We found good aunty shrunk into the least possible 
 dimensions, but in a less suffering state than she was when I 
 left her last October. Miss Hill is much bent in figure, but 
 as much erect in mind as ever, and rejoicing in the effects she 
 perceives of the Reform Bill in elevating the condition of the 
 lower orders. She thought it was the first step towards the 
 millennium ! ! ! What would your Conservatives say of that 
 opinion from a woman of eighty-one? They would say she was 
 in her dotage; but I never saw her mind more entire, though 
 the faculty of memory is somewhat impaired. I have been 
 alarmed since I came here with the tone of the public press, — 
 the coalition that seems to have taken place between the Con- 
 servative and Radical papers ; they vie with each other in foul 
 and scurrilous abuse of Ministers. The Conservatives are 
 
212 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 playing a dangerous game. They are making use of the 
 Radicals to turn out the Whigs, not perceiving that by 
 strengthening that party (the Radicals) they are destroying all 
 those aristocratic associations in the minds of the people by 
 means of which they calculate upon their own return to power. 
 The fears of our Lord Advocate,^ which his friends in Edinburgh 
 imputed to his nervous timidity, had but too much foundation. 
 He said the country Had nothing now to fear from the Tory 
 party, but very much to dread from popular and physical force, 
 and he feared it would be impossible for any honest administra- 
 tion to satisfy the people, who had learned from the foolish 
 conduct of the House of Peers last year to calculate upon their 
 own strength, and to hold all other strength at defiance. He 
 feared that spoliation, or, as he called it levelling downward, 
 would be the will of the great mass of operatives. This was 
 in a conversation I had with him last November at Mr. John 
 Cunningham's. I did not then think the people so unreason- 
 able, but the speeches of O'Connell, Cobbett, Hume, etc., are 
 of so inflammatory a character that I do fear Reform has come 
 too late to prevent revolution. I am thankful however that 
 it has come. It has organized a national guard in all the ten- 
 pound voters, and I still hope that the selfish principle, if no 
 better one, will influence the thinking and rational of all parties 
 to rally round them."] 
 
 We found dear aunty quite as well as when I had left 
 her five months before, and, as usual, delighted to see us 
 again ; but Dr. Thomson told me that Mai-y's nerves had 
 been so much affected by the complaint in her sj^ine, and 
 the reducing system necessary to subdue the inflammation, 
 that she ought not to remain long in so melancholy a scene 
 as my aunt's sick-room, — that good air was essential to 
 her recovery. So in June our friend Mr. Harden took 
 lodgings for us, for three months, at Thorney How, near 
 Grasmere, to be near our dear friends the Arnolds, who 
 were living that summer at Allen Bank, while their future 
 home at Fox How was building. Our lodgings were in a 
 1 Fraocis Jeffrey. 
 
T HORNBY HOW. 213 
 
 simple farm-house, at that time furnished in the most 
 homely manner ; we were the first ladies who had in- 
 habited it, as it was before Kasedale was much known, 
 except to such lovers of beauty as Wordsworth and De 
 Quincey. We were greatly pleased with our quarters, and 
 saw several of our friends there, for we never attached 
 much importance to the size or appearance of our dwelling, 
 so that it allowed us to exercise the pleasures of hospitality 
 and enabled us to give a kindly welcome to our friends. 
 Dear Mrs. Taylor and her little Mary joined us there, and 
 added much to our happiness. Henry Fletcher paid us a 
 long visit, and we had frequent intercourse with Words- 
 worth and his excellent wife, with Mr. Hamilton, who then 
 lived at Rothay Cottage, at Rydal, and with our old friends 
 the Hardens at Brathay Hall, and above all, the Arnolds, 
 who were our great attraction to Grasmere and Easedale. 
 We did not then foresee that so many happy years were in 
 store for us at the little mountain farm called Lancrigg, 
 which adjoined Thorney How, and which, from its sunny 
 aspect and birch and oak copses, under Helm Craig, had 
 for many years of Wordsworth's Grasmere life been a 
 favorite summer haunt of the simple household of the 
 bard, who then lived at Town End. Wordsworth and 
 Dr. Arnold also were great admirers of the views from the 
 Rock at Thorney How, and the poet, if depressed on first 
 coming in, was often revived by a visit to the Rock, which 
 his wife kindly suggested when she saw this was the case. 
 It was that summer that the illness of his sister began; 
 and those who know what they had always been to each 
 other can well understand what it must have been to him 
 to see that soul of life and light obscured. He was also 
 cast down at this time by the state of public affairs, of 
 which he took a very dark view ; and what was the opening 
 of new hope for the evUs of the country to Dr. Arnold, and 
 
214 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 to us, was, to Wordsworth and his family, the end of Eng- 
 land's glory. I have now lived to feel that we were both 
 more in the right than our great poet at Rydal, and also the 
 excellent and desponding Southey at Keswick, with whom 
 I renewed an acquaintance formed long before, when we 
 thought more alike on public matters. 
 
 [^To Mrs. Davy, Malta. 
 
 " Thoeney How, IWh Jufy, 1833. 
 
 " On Wednesday afternoon we set forth to Keswick. Miss 
 
 Southey followed us to the side of the lake with an invitation 
 
 to drink tea with them. We all went. Southey is sadly 
 
 altered since I saw him last; his hair was quite white, but 
 
 that was the least part of the alteration I never 
 
 saw any one whose mind was in so morbid a state as that of 
 this excellent poet and amiable man on the subject of the 
 present political aspect of affairs in England. He is utterly 
 desponding. He believes the downfall of the Church and the 
 subversion of all law and government is at hand; for in spite 
 of all our endeavors to steer clear of politics, he slid uncon- 
 sciously into the subject, and proclaimed his belief that the 
 ruin of all- that was sacred and venerable was impending. His 
 state of mind presents a striking and curious contrast to General 
 De Lafayette, in a letter I had from him, dated La Grange, 
 July 16th, 1833. I think I told you that last winter I sent 
 him a curious little book written by a Mr. Leonard, surgeon of 
 a vessel employed by England on the coast of Africa for the 
 prevention of the slave-trade. The ship or frigate was com- 
 manded by Captain Ramsay, who was in Edinburgh last winter, 
 and he told Lady Grey that ' it was true to the very letter. ' 
 Mr. r.eonard gives a most fearful picture of the enormities 
 practised by the slave-ships to Spain, Portugal, and Brazil, 
 under the ti-icolor flag of France, because they had not sub- 
 mitted to be searched by English vessels. On receiving this 
 book the General put the question to the Minister of Marine, 
 why France suffered such abominable cruelties to be perpetrated 
 under her flag? The JNlinister of Marine assured him that 
 
LETTER TO MRS. DAVY. 215 
 
 within the last six months a treaty had been signed between 
 France and England in which the right of search was recipro- 
 cally agreed to ; and De Lafayette expresses the earnest hope 
 that the example set by England in slave emancipation will 
 ere long be followed by the United States and by all civilized 
 nations? Miss Garnett says the General is rejoicing in the 
 capture of the Miguelite fleet (his grandson had been for 
 eighteen months in Don Pedro's army, a volunteer in the 
 liberal cause of Portugal), and that he is now reposing after 
 the fatigues of a long session of the Chamber of Deputies amid 
 his family at La Grange." 
 
 " Tadcaster, October 23, 1833. 
 "Three days after we arrived here, Mary, Catherine Lay- 
 cock, and I went to attend a county meeting at York, held to 
 consider of some lasting tribute of respect for the memory of 
 Mr. Wilberforce. The Archbishop presided, and opened the 
 meeting in an elegamt and short eulogium on the character of 
 Wilberforce, especially his sincerely religious character, which 
 manifested itself not in sectarian zeal or intolerant bigotry, 
 but by soundness of principle^and practical Christianity. He 
 was followed by Lord Fitzwilham, who declared he considered 
 it one of the greatest blessings of his life to have been associated 
 with Mr. Wilberforce in the representation of the county when 
 he arrived at manhood, for that no man could live in habits of 
 intimacy with him without being the better for it. People, 
 his Lordship said, supposed that because Mr. Wilberforce was 
 eminently pious he would be morose and severe towards others. 
 The very contrary was the case ; and were he asked who was 
 the happiest and most cheerful man he had ever known, he 
 would say Mr. Wilberforce. Lord Morpeth followed in a very 
 eloquent speech, on the part Wilberforce had taken in the slave- 
 trade, and on the happiness he expressed on his death-bed for 
 having lived to see that great measure accomplished. He 
 concluded this touching observation with these words, very 
 emphatically uttered: — ' Let me die the death of the righteous, 
 and let my last end be like his.' Then spoke the Lord Chan- 
 cellor. He had come all the way from Brougham to attend 
 the meeting. He made a strong appeal to Mr. Wilberforce 's 
 
216 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 native county, which he had so ably represented in six successive 
 ParUaments, to erect a suitable tribute to the me.'nory of that 
 great and good man, not merely an inscription in brass or 
 marble, but some institution which should have the instruction 
 of the ignorant or the relief of the afflicted for its object, — 
 some such monument to his name as Wilberforce himself would 
 have chosen. 'It is true,' he said, 'we have not the evil of 
 slavery in this country, but we have the monstrous evil of 
 ignorance to a frightful extent, and ignorance is the fruitful 
 parent of discord, intolerance, and vice.' It was one of the 
 most interesting public meetings I ever attended. It was in 
 the Music Hall at York, and the place was crowded up to the 
 very door. Lord B. looked in good health. His speech was 
 earnest, grave, and impressive. He seemed deeply impressed 
 with the evils arising from the ignorance of the people; indeed, 
 from Sir VV. Hamilton's article in the July number of the 
 Edinburgh Review, on education in Germany, it would appear 
 that France and England are the worst educated nations in 
 Europe."] 
 
 "We returned to Tadcaster in September, and found our 
 poor sufferer in much the same state ; but so kind and 
 touching was her reception of us, that I made a resolve 
 then that nothing short of the most imperious duty, such 
 as that which the care of Mary's health required, should 
 tempt me to leave her again. Thank God, it was not neces- 
 sary to do so, and we remained with her to the last. An 
 increase of weakness and weariness came on, on the 24th 
 of December, when I was sitting beside her, and she died 
 on the morning of the 26th, 1833. I was standing by 
 her bedside ; her eyes were closed, and I said, " Dear aunt, 
 I am beside you ; do you know ' your Bessy ' ? " She did 
 not speak, but she pressed my hand, gave one short breath, 
 and all was over. Thus passed away one of the purest 
 spirits and kindest-hearted beings tliat ever lived. She 
 had not a particle of selfishness in her nature, had great 
 tenderness of heart, and strict integrity of life ; her temper 
 
DEATH OF AUNT DAWSON. 217 
 
 was excellent. She was the most dutiM of daughters, 
 the kindest of sisters, the warnaest and most constant of 
 friends, and towards me personally, from the time I was 
 six days old, when I lost my mother, she acted, with 
 uniform affection, a mother's part. It was consoling to me 
 to think that, after my marriage, the time she spent with 
 us in Edinburgh was perhaps the most cheerful and ani- 
 mated of her life. She extended her affection towards all 
 my children, and Mr. Fletcher always treated her with the 
 most grateful love and respect. My daughters took by 
 turns the office of cheering her old age; and though the 
 sacrifice they made in leaving a home they dearly loved, 
 and the attractions of Edinburgh society, was great, they 
 never complained; they felt they were paying the large 
 debt of gratitude their mother owed her, and the four last 
 years of her life were cheered by my remaining with her 
 whenever my duty to my children did not make a temporary 
 absence indispensable. She was the kindest of neighbors ; 
 there was no gossip at her table; people who met nowhere 
 else met there, and seemed to forget their small grievances 
 towards each other in her presence, and it was truly 
 observed by her nephew, Mr. Dawson of Wighill, on the 
 day of her funeral, " that he never heard her speak ill of 
 anybody." Her remains were laid in the north aisle of 
 Wighill Church, by the side of those of her brother 
 William. She was buried on the 31st of December, 1833. 
 
 Early in February, 1834, following dear aunty's death, 
 Mary and I set off for London, in the hope of meeting Dr. 
 and Mrs. Davy there in April. 
 
 We gave up the house at Tadcaster, and made our one- 
 horse carriage our movable home for some months, not 
 wishino- to fix on a new residence until the return of our 
 Malta friends. 
 
 I had a strong desire to visit the last resting-place of 
 
 10 
 
218 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 
 
 my dear friend Mrs. Brudenell, and to close the chapter of 
 my early life by erecting a tablet to her memory in the 
 parish church of Hougham, where she was interred near 
 her children. 
 
 We paid a little visit to Mr. and Mrs. Penrose on our 
 way. She was then ill of the malady which ended her 
 sweet, intelligent, simple life. I remember her telling me 
 it was worth while being ill to be so kindly nursed as she 
 was by her husband. In the very small parsonage of 
 Bracebridge this accomplished pair enjoyed the pleasures 
 of refined and literary tastes and pursuits at home, although 
 much cut off from congenial society. 
 
 Mrs. Penrose lent us the " Life of Crabbe," by his son 
 George, then newly published, and we read it with great 
 delight at Coleby, where we went next to pay a visit to 
 the Miss Penroses, the amiable sisters of our dear Mrs. 
 Arnold. On our way from their house to Grantham, we 
 went through most singular by-ways and sandy lanes to 
 find out the grave of my kind old friend Mrs. Brudenell. 
 It was in. the chancel of Hougham Church, where her 
 unworthy husband had been rector. She was buried 
 between her two boys, who died very young. It was 
 more than sixty years since she had lived in Hougham 
 Rectory, and I could not find a single villager living who 
 remembered her. At Grantham, which we reached that 
 evening, I ordered a marble tablet to be put up in 
 Hougham Church to her memory. Hers were virtues 
 that deserve to be commemorated. She had a generous 
 heart and a deep sense of gratitude for benefits disinter- 
 estedly conferred upon her. This visit to her last resting- 
 place was to me full of tender and melancholy recollections. 
 She had gone to Hougham on her marriage, full of 
 generous affection, hope, and confidence ; she was requited 
 by neglect and heartless cruelty ; and there, after a life 
 
VISIT TO LONDON. 219 
 
 of much disquietude, she was laid at rest. We proceeded, 
 by short journeys, suited to our mode of travelling, to 
 London, which we reached on the 25th of March, and 
 established ourselves in the lodgings which had been taken 
 for us in Baker Street, Regent's Park, where we remained 
 a month, and where we had the disappointment to learn 
 that Dr. Davy had been obliged to remain at Malta for 
 another year. 
 
 The month we spent in London was full of interest. 
 Many of our dear Scotch friends were there and in office. 
 Sir John A. Murray was then Lord Advocate, and we 
 frequently niet people of note at his house. On hearing 
 from Sir John Murray that I was in London, Lord 
 Brougham expressed a desire to take me to the Temple 
 Church the following Sunday, and said he would call 
 for us at the right time, with his daughter, as he wished 
 to introduce her "to his early friend Mrs. Fletcher." 
 This he did; and we made, the best use of the drive in 
 listening to his interesting conversation. The Lord 
 Chancellor paid us much^ friendly attention, and proposed 
 that we should go the following day to the House of Lords, 
 where we might hear him speak on his favorite subject — 
 the education of the working classes, which he did admirably. 
 Another evening we heard him speak on the admission of 
 Dissenters to Oxford and Cambridge without subscribing 
 the Thirty-nine Articles. He was opposed by the fluent 
 Bishop of Exeter (Phillpotts). Miss Brougham was of our 
 party, to hear her father speak for the first time. It was 
 interesting to watch her interest in what he said. She sat 
 next me, her half-sister. Miss Spalding, on the other side. 
 The young girl often said, " Oh, papa is too angry. Why 
 is he so angry?" It was quite true; the excessive 
 vehemence of the manner rather detracted from than added 
 to the force of the matter. 
 
220 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 We saw and heard at the same time the great Duke, 
 also Lords Gi'ey and HoUand, but heard no speaking 
 either among Lords or Commons comparable to Lord 
 Brougham's. 
 
 I saw a good deal at this time of my old Edinburgh 
 early friend, John Allen, of Holland House notoriety, who 
 had continued to correspond with my husband, and he 
 rejDeated on this occasion of our meeting in London that 
 he always traced to his conversations as a youth with Mr. 
 Fletcher the opinions he had early formed and retained of 
 constitutional liberty. 
 
 We saw a great deal of the dear Dr. Boott and his 
 friendly happy circle in Gower Street ; had some pleasant 
 meetings and talks with Thomas Campbell and Allan 
 Cunningham, and spent a delightful evening at Captain 
 Gowan's with Mount-Stuart Elphinstone, certainly the most 
 agreeable of men. 
 
 We were not sorry after some weeks of excitement to 
 set oif in our chaise-and-one for North Devon, wiiere we 
 had promised to pay a visit to Mr. and Mrs. Buckle, near 
 Ilfracombe, and Mrs. Martin, who shared their home 
 then at Watermouth Castle, a large modern Castle beauti- 
 fully situated near the Bristol Channel. From this 
 agreeable resting-place we made excursions to Clovelly, 
 a place of wonderful charm and oddity. It is built on a 
 steep cliff. The one street rising from the bay forms a 
 steep stair cut in the rocks, which are of most varied form 
 and coloring, and beautifully clothed with rich vegeta- 
 tion as you advance up the stair street to the little village 
 inn. 
 
 From Watermouth we went for a week to Lynmouth, 
 the most perfectly beautiful place, we thought, we had ever 
 seen ; so much did we talk about it that we began to think 
 our friends did not believe in such a place, and we agreed 
 
VISIT TO OXTON. 221 
 
 to abstain from its praises, except to each other, to avoid 
 being considered " bores." 
 
 We travelled north, stopping at Cheltenham to rest and 
 see our old friend Lady Williamson of Whitburn, and 
 after that 1 went to meet Mrs. Taylor at Oxton, at the 
 cottage I had furnished for Angus there, and Mary went 
 along with Catherine Laycock to prepare a temporary home 
 which had been secured for us near Hawkshead for a year 
 by Mr. Harden, who with his family then lived also in 
 that locality'. This house, called Keen Gi'ound, was by 
 no means commodious or comfortable, but it was near the 
 quaint little town of Hawkshead, endeared to me by many 
 recollections of the first summer we spent in the lake 
 district at Belmont. It was within an easy distance of my 
 dear old friend Mrs. Smith, who, though now infirm in 
 health, retained her warm aifections and grace of manner. 
 She made us acquainted with her favorite neighbors, the 
 Miss Beevers, who lived, and still live, near the village of 
 Coniston, and have continued the fast friends of our 
 family from that time. They are the best of neighbors 
 and most faithful of friends to all who come near them, 
 rich or poor, old or young. 
 
 We passed the winter of 1834-5 at Keen Ground, and 
 rejoiced in the return of the dear Arnolds to Fox How 
 that winter, when we paid them a week's delightful visit 
 about Christmas. We always found ourselves the better, 
 as well as happier, for associating with them, there was so 
 much elevation of purpose in all they thought and did; 
 and then the home life at Rydal Mount was a great 
 attraction to us, as well as the kindness we always received 
 there. 
 
 In the May following (the 25th of May, 1835) we had 
 the great happiness of meeting our dear Margaret and her 
 three eldest children at Kendal, and of bringing them back 
 
222 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 with us to Keen Gi'ound. It is only those who have been 
 separated from a beloved child for five years without any 
 other intercourse but such as letters supply, who can know 
 the happiness of a personal reunion. The heat of Malta 
 had told on her constitution and looks, but she had the 
 same bright animated expression of countenance, and all 
 the tenderness of a mother had been added to the treasures 
 of her heart's affections. Mrs. Taylor and her little Mary 
 and my son Angus joined the family party. It was as 
 happy a summer as the reunion of affectionate friends 
 could make it, and so unwilling were Mary and I to lose 
 sight again of Margaret and her family that when they left 
 us in September we authorized Dr. Davy to take a cottage 
 for us within an hour's drive of Fort Pitt, where Dr. Davy 
 had been appointed the chief medical officer. We followed 
 them in October, Mary taking Rugby on her way to Chatham, 
 and I going to spend a month in the cottage at Oxton 
 formerly occupied by my aunt, Mrs. Fretwell, and where 
 I had established my aunt Dawson's faithful maid Hannah 
 as housekeeper for Angus, so that he might always have a 
 comfortable home to go to. She had married after her 
 old mistress's death a young Methodist farmer, and the 
 only sounds ever heard from their comfortable kitchen were 
 hymns sung by this good couple at their evening devotions. 
 It is strange that the month I spent at this time in my 
 native village did not strengthen in the least the reminis- 
 cences of my childhood and youth. I had lived so intensely 
 during the fifty years I had left that now almost ruinous 
 house where I was born, and had left at eighteen, that it 
 was more identified with my imagination as what it then 
 was, cheerful and neat, with its trim garden in front, gay 
 with flowers, and its well-trained fruit-trees on the walls, 
 and its abundant orchard behind, than now in its forlorn, 
 almost uninhabitable, state. 
 
SETTLING AT DARLAND. 223 
 
 Mrs. Brudenell's cottage, where some of the gayest hours 
 of my childhood were spent, was now inhabited by two 
 peasants' families, hard-worked men. " Can this (I often 
 said to myself) really be the place where the joyous years 
 of my youth were spent ? surely a blight has passed over 
 it, so that they who knew and loved it once shall ' know 
 it no more ! ' " It Avas mournful for me to feel that I 
 was the last survivor of that once cheerful village. All 
 its former inhabitants were gone, and they were replaced 
 by a depressed, uncheerful-looking set of laborers, with 
 slovenly wives and ragged children. 
 
 After spending our Christmas of 1835 at Fort Pitt, we 
 entered upon our cottage home at Darland, which Mary 
 and our Yorkshire maid had prepared for my reception. 
 It was a beautifully planted and arranged little domain, an 
 oasis in the desert ; for nothing could be more destitute of 
 beauty than the chalky hills all round the wooded enclosure 
 where Darland was situated. , 
 
 In compliment to the Davys, we had several visitors, but 
 only made two friends — Di-. and Mrs. Richardson. He 
 was the Arctic traveller, and then held a staif appointment 
 at Melville Hospital at Chatham. She was a niece of Sir 
 John Franklin, a large-hearted, lively, and most interesting 
 woman. We got intimate at once ; and as her health was 
 very delicate, .she used to come often in summer, with her 
 baby Josephine, to us, for change of air, and he walked 
 out in the evening after the labors of the day were 
 over. Mary and 1 used to say that Dr. Richardson's 
 smile of recognition, when we drove through the ghastly 
 streets of Chatham, was the only redeeming point in 
 that dreary drive we took so often on our way to Fort 
 Pitt. 
 
 On Saturday evening, the 18th of March, 1837, Mary 
 and I were sitting in our easy chairs at Darland, as far 
 
224 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 " into the fire " as the Scotch folk beg their friends to do, 
 talking of some episodes of our past lives, and expecting a 
 parcel of books from Chatham. The parcel came just at 
 the right time, and contained the first volume of Lockhart's 
 Life of our great townsman, Walter Scott. I believe it 
 would be necessary to have lived, as we had done for the 
 last year and a half, in cold and chalky Kent, to enjoy, as 
 we did that night, the devouring of the volume, — the 
 names of all so familiar to us, and the persons of most, as 
 we used daily to meet them in the streets or the drawing- 
 rooms of our beloved Edinburgh. To us this volume had 
 all the interest of an old chronicle, so completely is our 
 present life changed in its daily animation and interest. 
 No doubt English readers will enjoy it, or think they do, 
 but a dash of Scotch is necessary thoroughly to enjoy its 
 charm. 
 
 [To Mrs. Rathhone, Green Banlc, Liverpool. 
 
 " We have- lately been reading the 'Life of Walter Scott' 
 with deep interest ; for though in matters of public feeling 
 there was a great gulf between us, we always admired his 
 genius, and the sweetness and kindness of his nature. The 
 first sixty pages written by himself are quite refreshing, and 
 Mr. Lockhart has very ably and skilfully filled up the outline. 
 Never has a character formed by circumstances been more 
 strikingly exemplified. He would probably have been an 
 extraordinary man under any circumstances ; but do we not 
 owe his varied imagination to his early life at Sandy Knowe, 
 and his listening there to the ballads and fairy lore of the old 
 Tweedside Shepherds? 
 
 " You cannot conceive what a delight it was to Mary as well 
 as to me to read what is already published of these memoirs, 
 in this arid land of chalky hills and official understandings. 
 After lending the book to the Davys and Richardsons, no one 
 else among our acquaintances here cared to have it, having no 
 associations with either books or ballads."] 
 
SWISS TOUR AND LA HARPE. 
 
 225 
 
 On the 1st of June, 1836, we set ofF from Kent, accom- 
 panied by Angus, on a little tour to Switzerland. Having 
 kept a journal of our tour, I need not repeat the impres- 
 sion it made on us here. Late as it was in life for me to 
 set out on a Swiss tour (I was then sixty-six), I enjoyed it 
 greatly, and so did my companions. It realized, and more 
 than realized, all I had conceived of the grand and beauti- 
 ful in nature. We saw no form of society that seemed 
 degraded by poverty or despotism, except that of Savoy, 
 under the dominion of the King of Sardinia. 
 
 [The following letter, returned to me, is worth inserting here, 
 relating to an interview which interested us all much with 
 General La Harpe :] 
 
 To Mrs. Boott. 
 
 "Chatham, August, 1836. 
 "I know it will give you and Dr. Boott pleasure to hear 
 that we have got safely home after a most delightful excursion 
 of two months, during which^we traversed fully two thousand 
 miles by land and water. By far the most interesting part of 
 our tour was the month we passed in Switzerland, and we 
 owed to Dr. Boott the highest gratification we could have had 
 there, in an hour's animated conversation with his venerable 
 and interesting friend. General La Harpe. We took the 
 steamboat from Vevay to Lausanne, and we found the excel- 
 lent old man in his dressing-gown in his library, as serene and 
 cheerful as if the world without had neither evil nor sorrow in 
 it. As Dr. Boott's friends he received us not only with courtesy 
 but kindness, and he evidently delighted to dwell on his per- 
 sonal obligations to the friendship of Dr. Boott and on the interest 
 he took in him and you and all your children. We partook of a 
 collation of fruit, cakes, and wine. He regretted his wife was 
 from home. Every word he uttered impressed us with the live- 
 hest respect and affection for him. When he uncovered a bust 
 of the Emperor Alexander to show it to us, his voice faltered 
 as he spoke of his many gracious and noble qualities, and he 
 affirmed confidently that, had he lived, it was his full purpose 
 
 10* o 
 
226 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 to give to Poland as free a constitution as she was capable of 
 enjoying or making a right use of. While Mary and I were con- 
 versing, or rather listening to him, Angus asked his permission to 
 take the little sketch which accompanies this. It does not do 
 him justice, but it has a considerable resemblance, and Angus has 
 great. pleasure in sending it to Dr. Boott. It happened to be the 
 week of the Tiiage at Lausanne, when the best marksmen in 
 Switzerland meet annually in honor of William Tell and shoot at 
 a mark. We saw the sharpshooters of the Pays de Vaud arrive, 
 about five hundred marksmen: every canton sends its quota. It 
 is a voluntary service, but may be considered as the training of 
 an excellent militia for Helvetia. We were enchanted with the 
 grandeur and beauty of the valleys of Lauterbrunnen and Grin- 
 delwald, and regretted that neither our travelling purse nor the 
 time we could spare admitted of our remaining another month 
 in these Alpine valleys. We had a magnificent first sight of 
 Mont Blanc as we left Lausanne, on the clear bright evening of 
 the 2nth of June. The setting sun threw its last rays on that 
 majestic mountain, and its summit was unclouded, so that at 
 the distance of sixty miles we distinctly saw its form reflected 
 on the surface of the Lake of Geneva. Lord Byron mentions 
 this fact in a note to one of his cantos of ' Childe Harold,' 
 but I own that I thought it was a poetical license till I saw 
 it with my own eyes. 
 
 " You will be glad, dear kind friends, to hear that Mary has 
 returned from her travels more robust in health than she has 
 been for six years. This is a great blessing, delightfully earned 
 by exertions accompanied with an enjoyment we neither of us 
 can ever forget. Angiis enjoyed it too very highly, and the old 
 woman not less than any of the party. God bless you, dear 
 friends." 
 
 We returned to Darland from our tour the last day of 
 July, 1836, and found Mrs. Taylor, her son, and little 
 daughter Mary there. In the autumn of that year we 
 made some pleasant excursions to the more picturesque 
 parts of Kent, and to places full of historical interest and 
 associations, — Penshurst, Knole, and Seven Oaks. I was 
 
WORDSWORTH'S VISIT. 227 
 
 disappointed not to find any monumental record of Algernon 
 Sydney in the beautiful churchyard of Penshurst, but his 
 epitaph is written in imperishable language in the annals 
 of his country. Our summer and autumn days were also 
 diversified by many family and friendly meetings in the 
 beautiful grounds and forests of Lord Darnley's jDlace, near 
 Chatham. 
 
 "We passed the winter of 1836-7 very quietly; bvit 
 found our habitation so cold in the severe winters of Kent 
 that we decided not to spend another winter there, but to 
 return to the neighborhood of Edinburgh, where we had 
 still many interests and attractions which could never pass 
 away. 
 
 [From M. F.'s Note-hooh 
 
 We had a most agreeable surprise on the 19th of August, 
 1837. Mrs. Smith, of the dockyard, appeared at Darland 
 with Wordsworth and Dora. We did not even know the poet 
 had returned from his Italianr'tour. He looks somewhat thin- 
 ner and paler than when we left Lakeland, and, as he him- 
 self expresses it, 'is too home-sick to be comfortable,' but he 
 admired the arrangements of our little garden, and entei'ed, 
 with his usual indulgence for Nature, into the merits of our 
 one large elm-tree. He confesses himself to have been too old 
 for a first visit to Italy, and that his visit with Crabb 
 Robinson was too hurried for enjoyment ; that at Rome he 
 had not time to get over his disappointment at the old and 
 new being jumbled together ; and he thought the effect of the 
 Colosseum was lessened by the Popish ornaments being ob- 
 truded into it. He mentioned the beauty of the flowers- and 
 ferns that grew on its walls as its best attractions. He said he 
 knew too little to make Rome so enjoyable as it might have 
 been. He made the discovery, also, that he had no real taste 
 for sculpture, as he fell asleep before the Venus de Medici at 
 Florence. He was more impressed by the Apollo, because 
 there is mind there, but without mind he cannot be much 
 interested in mere form, torsos and other forms, which he 
 
228 A UTO BIO GRAPHY. 
 
 allows may be very interesting to students of Art. He spoke 
 with most interest of the ruin at Nismes, and said he saw 
 nothing in Italy equal to the combined effect of the situation 
 and edifice of the Pont du Gard at Nismes. Of the maritime 
 Alps route also, and of the Mediterranean generally, he spoke 
 with much delight. In Vaucluse he had been in no degree 
 disappointed ; the color of the stream and the beauty of the 
 flowers delighted him much. He deplores the want of fine 
 timber in Italy, and the entire absence of gentlemen's counti-y 
 houses and parks throughout the country of France. These 
 observations chiefly took place on the Sunday evening which 
 he spent with us. He remarked that he thought the French 
 peasant improved in a mere animal point of view ; that he had 
 formerly been much struck with the extreme feebleness of 
 frame among the French, but this was not the case now. He 
 mentioned a tree which he had reposed under forty-eight years 
 ago near Liege as one of great size and beauty, and while on 
 this subject he branched oif with interest on the comparative 
 merits of trees. He admires the cypress of the south as a 
 beautiful spiral accompaniment to a landscape, but he holds 
 the yew higher as a ' fine creature.' His conversation did not 
 become truly Wordsworthian, however, till he entered on the 
 " Life of Scott," three volumes of which he had read. There 
 was so much feeling, wisdom, and elevation in all he said on 
 this subject, that, in his own words, we could truly say after 
 he left us, 
 
 " So did he speak. 
 
 The words he uttered shall not pass away. 
 For they sank into me." 
 
 And yet to attempt to note them down seems hopeless. He 
 said that it gave him pain to discover what sufferings Scott had 
 gone through from his connection with printers, and the 
 unworthy shifts he had recourse to, to get rid of his quires of 
 unsold writings. "It is cruel so to expose a great man's 
 weaknesses." " Scott's sentiments (he said) sometimes shock 
 me; and when I think of his free, frank manner, of what an 
 open creature he was, and then find that he was involved in all 
 this load of concealment and evasion, it gives me great pain, — 
 it must do so to all his friends. The day before we parted he 
 
WORDSWORTH'S CONVERSATION. 229 
 
 spoke to me much of his portion of happiness in life, which he 
 considered great ; but it appeared to me at the time that he 
 did not truly estimate his position as a man of genius. He 
 appeared to think that the condition of an official under 
 Govei'nment, or that of a country gentleman, was a higher one 
 than that of a man of genius." This, Wordsworth said, was 
 the more extraordinary from Scott having been born in the 
 rank of a gentleman, and, therefore, he ought more truly to 
 have estimated the real state of the case. Dr. Johnson had 
 powerfully stated the truth on this subject, and Scott would 
 have been a wiser and a happier man had he rested on his 
 genius rather than on his accumulating acres and living beyond 
 his means. Wordsworth then launched forth on the startling 
 opinion pronounced by Scott on Johnson's Poem " On the 
 Vanity of Human Wishes," being the finest poem in the 
 language. He repeated two or three lines, and dissected them 
 in the way he used to do some of Lord Byron's.] 
 
 In the spring of 1837 Mary and I spent a few weeks in 
 London, and met with several interesting people. The 
 first visit we paid was aj;-the house of Mr. and Mrs. 
 William Gray, in Great George Street, Westminster. I 
 there met my dear school companion of other days, who 
 was the mother of Mrs. Gray and the youngest daughter 
 of Mr. Forster of Bolton. She was then the widow of 
 General Ker, one of the claimants of the Roxburgh Duke- 
 dom and estates. The charm of her character and manners 
 combined would have graced the high position which the 
 Scottish Courts of Law gave to her husband, but which the 
 House of Lords reversed after a ruinous lawsuit of many 
 years. We renewed our youth together on this pleasant 
 meeting among her grandchildren, and the loss of what the 
 world most regards had in no degree lessened the sweetness 
 of her spirit or the gaiety of her " innocent mirth." She 
 returned with us to Kent at the end of our London visit. 
 
 It was during this visit at Mr. Gray's that I first saw 
 
230 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Giuseppe Mazzini. I can truly say that his character, and 
 the cause to which he devoted his blighted youth and noble 
 genius, gave, from the time I first formed his friendshijj, a 
 new and increasing interest to my declining years. 
 
 A letter was brought to me one forenoon, some time in 
 April, from Count Philip Ugoni, the friend of Madame 
 De Bossi, who had been so useful to us in Paris, introduc- 
 ing to my special regard a young Italian exile who at that 
 time was a friendless stranger in London. I was in Mary's 
 room at the time, who was ill of influenza, but hastened 
 down stairs to receive the exile. I found in the drawing- 
 room a young, slim, dark Italian gentleman of very pre- 
 possessing appearance. He could not then speak English, 
 and I very imiaerfect French ; but it was impossible not to 
 be ■ favorably impressed at once by his truth and his 
 sadness. He told me he was an exile, and without 
 endeavoring to excite my compassion, or dwelling at all 
 on his wrongs or his circumstances, by relating any 
 particulars of his past life, he said his present object was 
 to obtain admission to some public library, that he might 
 give himself to literary work. He looked so profoundly 
 unhappy, and spoke so despondingly of the condition of 
 his country, and of the genius of Chatterton with such high 
 admiration, that I foolishly took it into my head, after he 
 had left me, that he meditated suicide, and, under that 
 impression, took the privilege of age and experience to 
 write to him (when I sent him a letter that I thought 
 would be useful for his present pursuits in London) a 
 friendly exhortation against the weakness, as well as 
 wickedness, of yielding to despair, while youth and talents 
 and moral strength, which I felt he possessed, ought alone, 
 independently of higher motives, to enable him to meet 
 with fortitude his present adversity. The answer which I 
 received to this letter convinced me how much I had mis- 
 
FIRST nfPEESSIONS OF G. MAZZINI. 231 
 
 taken his meaning, and formed the basis of our future 
 friendship. It interested me much more than querulous 
 complaints ; and although we did not meet more than once 
 again at this time, I was able to be of some use to his 
 accomplished and excellent friend Ruffini, on our return to 
 Edinburgh the following winter, and on our next visit to 
 London we saw Mazzini frequently. We heard from RufSni 
 that besides the literary and patriotic work he engaged in, 
 he devoted himself in the evening hours to the instruction 
 of fifty or sixty Italian boys, who were traversing the streets 
 of London all day, selling white mice, playing the hand- 
 organ, or carrying plaster casts about for sale. These poor 
 boys were sold for a certain number of years by their 
 worthless parents to people as worthless, who employed 
 without instructing them, and they were growing up both 
 profligate and ignorant. Mazzini could not bear to see his 
 countrymen thus degraded, not so much by poverty as by 
 vice, and he devoted two hours every evening to teaching 
 them to read and write, ,and imbuing them with some 
 knowledge of their country's history, and what it ought to 
 be in future. All this I heard from Ruffini, as well as that 
 he had become known to several cultivated people in 
 London ; but no inducements of pleasure or advantage 
 could tempt him to quit his little Italian school for a single 
 evening. Thus he became added to my list of heroes, and 
 I insert his first letter to me in this part of my family 
 history, that my great-grandchildren may learn from it the 
 reason of my interest in the prophet of the future unity of 
 Italy, Giuseppe Mazzini. 
 
 Mazzini' s Jirst letter in answer to mine. 
 
 " April, 1837. 
 "Madame, — You doubtless suppose that the frankness of 
 your language displeased me or gave me some pain. Far from 
 
232 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 it ; I am grateful to you for it, as a mark of confidence and 
 esteem. Perhaps I explained myself ill, perhaps also some of 
 my expressions would require ray life as a commentary to 
 explain them ; but I desire nmch, madame, to rectify the im- 
 pression which I have involuntarily given you. I am naturally 
 triste ; I am rendered more so by my position, by what I have 
 suffered — not so much by what I have personally suffered, as 
 by what I have seen those I love and who love me suffer, — by 
 the thousand causes which make exile bitter and hfe sterile in 
 these days to us. I am, however, neither abased nor discour- 
 aged ; I only compared myself to your Chatterton 'mfierte, not in 
 despondency. I believe, historically speaking, that the memory 
 of Chatterton has been unjustly treated, but I also think that 
 his despair was a weakness, and a consequence, as you remark, 
 of an imperfect religious conception. I think also that his 
 death would have been different had he lived in our days. 
 
 " Despair, neutralizing activity, appears to me the highest 
 point of selfishness. He who despairs of things and of men, 
 and whom despair makes inactive or leads to quit life, is a man 
 who has wished only to enjoy, and has made that his chief 
 thought ; not being able to do that, he destroys his life, either 
 morally or materially, as the child does its plaything. Now, 
 I do not consider life a game, but a very serious thing : it is 
 an office to be fulfilled in the world ; it is a series of duties 
 to be accomplished in our own improvement or that of others ; 
 it is virtue, and not happiness, which ought to be the aim of 
 life. If in following the ways of virtue we find happiness, so 
 much the better ; but if we do not find it, it should make no 
 difference in our pursuit. This life, in short, I consider but as 
 the infancy of another, and when God placed us in the world 
 He said, ' AVork and do good according to the measure of your 
 power and your knowledge ;' He did not say,-' Be happy.' For 
 my own part, I do not believe in the happiness of the individual 
 — in my own perhaps less than in that of others, — but I 
 should be the most cowardly and the most inconsistent of men 
 if, on that account, I should neglect to serve my country or 
 the cause of my faith. You see, madame, that I am far from 
 that state which may be called one of despair. I shall then 
 labor, and intend in some measure to follow your advice. I 
 
LETTERS FROM MAZZINI. 233 
 
 think seriously of occupying myself with a work the aim of 
 which will be to make Italy known to your countrymen, such 
 as I conceive it to be in its present state, and what it is likely 
 to become. I shall write it in Italian, but I shall have it 
 translated. It will be a long and difficult labor ; but although 
 it is done through my imperfect means, some of the truths 
 which it will contain may perhaps contribute to sow the seeds 
 of sympathy between two nations, the one of which is already 
 great and free, and the other must become so. I now wait for 
 my books and papers to begin, and am at present engaged to 
 contribute to a Journal, Le Monde. 
 
 "I thank you much, madame, for your kind offer of recom- 
 mendation, should I wish for pupils. You judge rightly in 
 supposing that, did I require it, I should not hesitate to give 
 lessons in my native tongue ; there is nothing in that which 
 would in the least degree offend me, and I thank you most cor- 
 dially for your offers of assistance. Your kindness induces me 
 to ask your exertions in favor of a young Itahan at present in 
 Edinburgh, whose name is Ruffini.^ 
 
 " Giuseppe Mazzini." 
 
 [^Second Letter to Mrs. Fletcher. 
 
 " April, 1840. 
 " Permit me to write to you, and permit me to make use for 
 this time of a language which you know, and which is more 
 familiar to me than yours. I write under the impression of a 
 strong feeling of gratitude, and I feel a desire to let my pen go 
 freely, to write as I used to speak to you, without stopping 
 even for a moment to consider the form of my thoughts. I 
 am always doubtful when I write in your language, which 
 
 1 Agostino RufRni (the brother of Giovanni EuiBni, the author of " Doctor 
 Antonio" and other works) passed eleven years of exile in Edinburgh ; and 
 it is a comfort to think that this period was rendered as little painful as was 
 possible in his circumstances by the respect and affection his virtues and 
 talents inspired among all the friends he had there. He accepted the 
 amnesty of 1848 and returned to Piedmont, filled an office at Turin with 
 great ability and benefit to his country, and died of a very painful illness at 
 Taggia in 1855, mourned and loved in no common measure. 
 
234 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 
 
 causes me a sort of painful feeling of restraint. Now, I wish 
 to have pleasure in writing to you. I have first to thank you 
 for the kindness with which you treat my friend Ruffini and 
 then the remembrance which you have kept of me ; and to me 
 it is delightful that it is through a tie of gratitude that I am 
 led to renew our acquaintance. I had a desire to do so in 
 order to efface a painful feeling, — not in you, who are too 
 kind to remember what is wrong in others, but in myself. It 
 reproaches me for having, during so long a period, neglected 
 the first person who took an interest in me in London. I was, 
 when I had the honor of knowing you there, in a moral state 
 quite peculiar, tormented by a thousand chagrins, and brought 
 by a course of real causes to believe that my friendship or my 
 acquaintance could not give the least pleasure to any one, and 
 might easily become a burden. I did not wish that, and so I 
 found myself imperiously drawn towards a melancholy isolation. 
 It was more a punishment to myself than a wrong done to 
 others. Yet it was wrong. The happiness, or unhappiness, 
 of our individual life should not interfere with our duties; it 
 is not upon them, but upon the higher good, that our conduct 
 should depend. I understood that very soon, and I wished to 
 see you again, but you were I believe not in London, and I did 
 not know your place of residence. I spoke of you to the few 
 people whom I knew, among others to a man I much esteem, 
 and who said he knew you, Mr. Thomas Carlyle, but he did 
 not know your address at the time. I did not expect to find 
 you again in Edinburgh, doing good to me in the person of my 
 friend. As for him, I need not recommend him to you any 
 more; I will only assure you that he deserves all that you can 
 do for him, and he is one of those whose sincere and lasting 
 gratitude is assured to every mark of benevolence and sympathy. 
 The flower of the souls of us exiles is faded, but, thanks to 
 God, the perfume has remained. Ruffini tells me you are 
 about to spend some time at the Lakes of Westmoreland, but 
 that you will let me know when you visit London. Till then, 
 madame, think sometimes of me; and believe in the gratitude 
 and esteem of Giuseppe Mazzini."] 
 
 We passed the summer of 1837 at Darland, unmarked 
 
RETURN TO EDINBURGH. 235 
 
 by any event, but in bappy intercourse with our friends at 
 Fort Pitt, and in increased intimacy with the Richard- 
 sons. 
 
 We remained in Kent till after the birth of dear little 
 Humphry Davy, who was born on the 15th September, 
 1837. We saw him christened and his mother recovered, 
 and then set oif for Yorkshire, travelling in our slow 
 fashion, and taking Cambridge on our way. 
 
 It was towards the end of October when we reached 
 Oxton, where we intended to remain for some weeks with 
 Angus, to be near my aunt. Miss Hill. Angus, at his own 
 desire, had then embarked in a speculation in London, on 
 which he entered about that time ; but we took possession 
 of the cottage he had occupied, and the winter set in so 
 early and so severely, one snowstorm after another, that 
 we were compelled to remain there till the beginning of 
 February, 1838. Our trunks and books had been sent off 
 to Edinburgh, and we were detained three weeks before it 
 was possible to set off on^-our journey north. Our only 
 resource was to send for materials to clothe the poor of the 
 village, and we and our maidens set busily to work, and 
 this saved us from all fretfulness and impatience, as is well 
 observed by an anonymous writer in " Chambers's Journal " 
 — "that impatience always springs from a bitterer root 
 than itself." Now, this wholesome occupation of working 
 for the poor counteracted the selfishness that would have 
 made us impatient at our detention at Oxton. 
 
 We had a somewhat adventurous journey through the 
 frozen piles of snow on each side of the roads by Wooler 
 and Cornhill. The roads became heavier and deeper as 
 we proceeded northward, and for many a weary mile we 
 travelled through almost untracked snow, except such 
 tracks as a few coal-carts made — dreariness and desolation 
 on all sides of this Siberian landscape. Another day 
 
236 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 brought us to Lauder, and the following day we reached 
 Edinburgh. 
 
 "We were most kindly welcomed by our good friends 
 Mr. and Mrs. Craig, in Great King Street, and their house 
 was our hospitable and most agreeable home for several 
 weeks, till we established ourselves at the pretty villa of 
 DunclifFe, about two miles west of Edinburgh. 
 
 Our return to Edinburgh as residents, after an interval 
 of ten years, could not fail to be attended with many 
 touching remembrances. Many of those whom we had 
 left aged were gone, the middle-aged had become grey- 
 headed, and children then in the nursery had reached 
 manhood. Many whom we had left hard-worked Advocates 
 were now raised to the Bench. Foremost among these old 
 friends were Lords Cockburn, Jeffrey, and Cuninghame. 
 The Whigs were still in office, and Edinburgh still retained, 
 in our eyes, its unrivalled beauty and unbounded hospital- 
 ity. We had no reason to regret returning to a place 
 where we still had many friends, and where we were 
 received with so kindly a welcome. 
 
 We were most pleasantly situated at Duncliffe as to 
 neighbors, about equal distances from Craigcrook and 
 Belmont, where Lord Mackenzie then lived with his de- 
 lightful wife and children — a home of rare cultivation, 
 charm, and goodness combined. It was in September of 
 that year we had the great pleasure of meeting Mrs. Fry 
 at dinner at Lord Mackenzie's, and of attending a Friends' 
 meeting at which she spoke, as well as at a meeting for 
 constituting a female committee for visiting prisons. It was 
 a great privilege to meet and be acquainted with Elizabeth 
 Fry ; she was one of those rare spirits whom Milton 
 describes in words that cannot die : — 
 
 " Thy love is fixed, and zealously attends 
 To fill thy odorous lamp with deeds of light, 
 And hope that reaps not shame." 
 
LETTER FROM MR. TICKNOR. 237 
 
 That winter of 1838-9 was passed most pleasantly at Dun- 
 clifFe, where old friends came sociably to cheer our winter 
 days, and Mary was actively engaged in visiting Bridewell 
 and the House of Refuge. 
 
 On many snowy days, when no visitors were looked for, 
 Lord Jeffrey was good enough to include Dun cliff e in his 
 walks after he left the Court of Session. His conversa- 
 tion, always full of intellectual variety and power, had 
 become as remarkable for gentleness and kindness of feel- 
 ing as it had always been for force. We met many agree- 
 able strangei's both at Craigcrook and at his winter home in 
 Moray Place, and never failed to experience a large meas- 
 ure of his kindness, in spite of our differences of creed on 
 "Wordsworth and Joanna Baillie, — subjects now mutually 
 avoided. This reminds me to say that my maternal vanity 
 was fed by receiving, about this time, a very pleasant letter 
 from Joanna Baillie, which I have put aside for the Family 
 Memorials, and one from Mr^ George Ticknor of Boston, 
 along with two copies of the^American edition of " Conceal- 
 ment," printed at Philadelphia. Mr. Ticknor says he had 
 no hand in it ; he had sent a copy to the press at Boston 
 from a conviction that it would be a very useful book for 
 his countrywomen to read. When he met with this edition 
 from the Philadelphia press, he stopped the New England 
 one. Speaking of America after their late visit to England, 
 in the same letter, Mr. Ticknor says : — 
 
 " We are, as you know, established in our circle again in 
 our happy and prosperous country. I cannot tell you what a 
 pleasure this is. Whatever may be said of us by persons of 
 different views on the principles of government, it is fully 
 admitted that we are unlike any other people, — I think grow- 
 ing more so by force of our free institutions, — so that we who 
 have been born and bred here, and become attached to the 
 country, are not likely to become substantially and equally 
 
238 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 
 
 happy anywhere else. I am sure this is the case with me. I 
 have lived, at two different periods, eight years in Europe, and 
 yet could never for a moment have the proper feeUng of home 
 or its true contentment while I was there." 
 
 This is a delightful testimony to the truth of country and 
 home affections in an American of cultivated taste and real 
 refinement. 
 
 \_From Joanna Baillie to 3frs. Fletcher. 
 
 " 1838. 
 
 " Your friendly letter of the 21st of May was more than I 
 deserved. I have long wished to tell you that I think Mrs. 
 Davy's notices of Sir Walter's short abode at Malta are given 
 with great delicacy and truth of observation ; and there are no 
 notices in the whole seven volumes that I like better — I ought 
 rather to say so well. How very touching it is to trace, as 
 she gives it, the fading away of his mind and memory in the 
 drive they took together in the country. After praising Miss 
 Austen and the other female authors, he says, ' And there is an 
 Irish lady too ' (I cannot tell you how these words went to my 
 heart) — Maria Edgeworth, whom he had lived with and trav- 
 elled with, and whose writings he would most undoubtedly 
 have prized far beyond others. The confusion of his ideas and 
 the sweetness of his disposition are in this portion of his life 
 more naturally niarked perhaps than in any other. So much 
 was I pleased with your daughter's discriminating, modest 
 statement, that I had intended writing to you forthwith upon 
 the subject, when other things came in the way, and so my 
 intention became one of those with which, as Sir Walter says 
 in one of his letters, the ' pavement of hell ' is composed. 
 
 " Our neighbor, Mrs. Hoare, whose late excellent husband 
 was one of the original committee, along with Clarkson, for 
 the abolition of the slave-trade, is as little satisfied with the 
 biographers of Mr. Wilberforce as you are. Surely their father 
 had honor and credit enough fairly won without robbing others 
 to enrich him. How richly have the lovers of biography been 
 supplied of late in having two such men as Walter Scott and 
 Wilberforce brought before them more or less skilfully, indeed 
 
MISS HILL'S ILLNESS. 239 
 
 •with all the varied, extraordinary circumstances of their lives, 
 cheerfulness and activity being the natural temperament of 
 both."] 
 
 Early in the spring of 1839 we received alarming 
 accounts of my aunt Hill's health. I had written to her 
 some weeks before, mentioning our intention of visiting 
 Mrs. Davy in May ; and knowing she did not like to be 
 troubled with guests in her house, I proposed to take 
 lodgings at Thorp Arch, to be near her for a week or two. 
 To this proposal I received no answer till I heard of her 
 illness, and that she wished us to go to the Grange at once. 
 We found her much reduced in strength, but care and good 
 nursing brought her round, and before we set off for London 
 I had the comfort of leaving with her a most respectable 
 person as her companion and attendant. Miss Hill took 
 leave of us cheerfully, and wished us to visit her on our 
 return. 
 
 We had scarcely been ajreek in London and another 
 at Fort Pitt before we were recalled to Yorkshire, by hear- 
 ing that Miss Hill had fallen in her own drawing-room 
 and dislocated her hip, which at her age was very danger- 
 ous. We set off the following day by railroad to Manches- 
 ter (our first railway journey) and returned to the Grange 
 early in June. We found my aunt in a state of great 
 suffering, which she bore with wonderful patience. Her 
 interest in the poor never diminished. I told her one 
 morning I had no fewer than nineteen Irish haymakers 
 already ai'rived in her back court that morning at breakfast. 
 Her countenance brightened up as if I had told of a piece 
 of good fortune. She loved the poor more and more as 
 she approached nearer and nearer to God. She never was 
 a great talker about religion, but every action of her life 
 emanated from the pure love of God. She held the two 
 great commandments — the love of God and her neighbor 
 
240 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 — as the light and guide of life. She had many natural 
 infirmities of temper to contend with, and she often men- 
 tioned with amusement an observation of a poor woman 
 about her life when she was contrasting her own troubles 
 with Miss Hill's freedom from them, " You have had a level 
 life ; " but (she added) I told her that did not always follow, 
 as she supposed ; that a " level " life had its trials and diffi- 
 culties as great perhaps as many she had to bear, of a differ- 
 ent kind — " trials from within." She often said old age 
 was to her the happiest portion of life, because repose came 
 with it. 
 
 \_Mrs. Fletcher to Mrs. Davy. 
 
 "The Grange, 1st July, 1839. 
 
 " Still poor Miss Hill lingers in a state of great feebleness and 
 suffering, but of much greater quietness and repose for herself 
 and those around her than last week. Yesterday our dear 
 Mary and I set off for Leeds, at seven in the morning, and I 
 saw her and Janet safe in and on the Kendal coach at ten. It 
 is quite a relief to me that this dear child is on the way to give 
 and receive gratification she could not have had here. She 
 was most unwilling to leave me. You once, dear ]\Iargaret, 
 reminded me that I was more desirous to consult my children's 
 pleasure than their performance of duty, and I did not venture 
 to gainsay your gentle rebuke ; but in this case Mary has 
 neglected no duty. I am well, and able to perform the task 
 that is before me. It is plainly my duty to be here, because 
 Miss Hill often asks for me, and if I am not by her bedside, I 
 am in the garden or the hay-field, and can be with her in a 
 moment. 
 
 " Among the treasures of old books Mary has found here, in 
 the room we were never before permitted to enter, not the least 
 valuable is an old black-letter Bible. There is a Prologue to 
 the Psalms (as it is called) , by St. Basil the Great, worthy of 
 all admiration. I must give you a screed from it. He says — 
 ' Now whereas the Prophets have doctrines proper to them- 
 
LETTER FROM MRS. FLETCHER. 241 
 
 selves, and the Books of the Divine Hystorys written by them- 
 selves, and the Proverbial Books have their several kind of 
 exhortations, the Book of the Psalms comprehends in itself the 
 whole commodities of all their doctrines aforesaid ; for it 
 prophecieth of things to come ; it recyteth the historys ; it 
 showeth laws for the government of hfe; it teacheth what 
 ought to be done ; and, to be short, it is a common storehouse 
 of "all good doctrine which doth aptly distribute matter to 
 
 every man peculiar to himself The Psalme is the rest 
 
 of the soule, the rodde of peace ; it stilleth and pacifieth the 
 raging billows of the mind ; it doth assuage and moUefie the • 
 raging power and passion of the soule ; it maketh amitie where 
 was discorde ; it knitteth friends together ; it returneth enemies 
 to an unity again ; for who can long repute him as an enemy 
 with whom he joineth himself in lifting up his voice to God in 
 prayer? Oh! wise and marvellous device of our Heavenly 
 School-master, who should invent that we should so pleasantly 
 sing, and therefore profitably learn, whereby wholesome doctrine 
 might be the deeper printed in us. ' 
 
 " Now, I think you will admire St. Basil as much as we do. 
 Don't vex yourself about ipy loneliness, dear M., for with 
 the Psalms and St. Basil I am not lonely. Then here is a 
 bright sunny day and a cheerful hay-field, for we began our hay- 
 harvest in the Crab Garth this morning." 
 
 Letter from Mrs. Fletcher to her daughter Mary at 
 
 Fox How. 
 
 " Grange, July, 1839. 
 
 " I have just had your welcome letter of Tuesday. You seem 
 to be in Paradise, with none but happy spirits about you. I 
 can see you every minute at dear Fox How with our beloved 
 Mrs. Arnold, all her children about her except Jane ; but I can 
 scarcely imagine her without Dr. Arnold. When does he return ? 
 
 " Well, dear child, I wrote to you on the 10th, the day of our 
 good aunt's release from suffering. I desired Pannett to con- 
 vene ei^ht of the poorest of Miss Hill's tenants to carry her 
 remains from the churchyard gate to the family vault in Tad- 
 caster Church on Saturday. They had their breakfast at Betty 
 Leed's cottage. Many of the most respectable inhabitants 
 11 P 
 
242 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 followed the procession uninvited, and dressed in deep mourn- 
 ing. Crowds of children gathered round the procession, and I 
 truly believe there were many sincere and grateful mourners, 
 both old and young. Angus and I walked first as mourners, 
 George Fletcher and the Shanns also. 
 
 " Our Vicar gave us really an excellent funeral sermon the next 
 day, from the words (14th Luke, Kth verse) — ' For they can- 
 not recompense thee, but thou shalt be recompensed at the 
 resurrection of the just.' He dwelt with much truth and very 
 good taste on her devotion to the poor — to their moral and 
 spiritual as well as their temporal interests ; on her calling 
 together the maimed, the poor, and the blind, and not the rich 
 neighbors. In short, I had no idea of our Vicar being able 
 to touch so many points of her character without exaggeration 
 or false taste. I shed many more tears at his sermon than at 
 her deathbed ; for solemn and awful as it was, thankfulness 
 for the mercy of God, in hearing her earnest prayers for deliver- 
 ance from suffering, was the strongest emotion I felt at the 
 moment, and tender respect and reverence for her memory have 
 been my abiding feelings ever since. Almost the only words 
 she uttered for the last few days of her life were — ' My 
 Father's arms,' ' My Father's arms,' often repeated. I think 
 it was a mixed feeling of longing and reverence for her two 
 strongest affections — her heavenly and her earthly Father. 
 She longed for both in no common measure. 
 
 " Do you know, dear Mary, I am sometimes uncomfortable at 
 the idea of this door being closed against the poor and miser- 
 able, to whom it has been opened for more than half a cen- 
 tury? But I must compound with my conscience by making 
 G — S — my almoner here to a liberal extent \ none knows 
 better than he does who most need assistance, or will better 
 administer it."] 
 
 It was during Mary's visit at Fox How at this time that 
 she told me, in one of her letters, that the proprietor of the 
 little mountain farm of Lancrigg had come to her a week 
 before she left Fox How, to fulfil a promise he had made 
 her, some years before, not to part with Lancrigg without 
 
EXTRACTS FROM M. F:S NOTES. 243 
 
 letting us know. At that time lie said, " I thought it never 
 could be ; but now it must be, for my sons have brought 
 me into trouble. " 
 
 I have requested Mary to copy here the part of the 
 journal she kept for me at the time relating to this little 
 episode, which led to such happy results, and which came 
 to her, as to me, quite unsought ; and had she not been in 
 the neighborhood at the time, we might not have heard 
 of this little possession again. 
 
 Mary had seen a great deal of the Wordsworths, both at 
 Fox How, their own Mount, and at Miss Fenwick's, who 
 then lived at Gale House, Ambleside. She was an old and 
 esteemed friend of mine during her Northumbrian life, and 
 Mary paid her a visit at this time. 
 
 \_Extract from M. F.'s Notes. 
 
 Fox How, August, 1839. 
 Last evening I went to meet the Rydal Mount party at Miss 
 Fenwick's. On consulting Mr: Wordsworth about the beauti- 
 ful little farm of Lancrigg (now for sale), in Easedale, he entered 
 into the subject most kindly, and offered to find out for us its 
 real value. He described the tangled copse and a natural ter- 
 race under the crag as a very favorite resort of his and his 
 sisters in bygone days, and said of the little " Rocky Well," 
 "I know it by heart." He then asked Mrs. Wordsworth to 
 look at his Miscellaneous Sonnets and read the one suggested 
 to him there by the likeness of a rock to a sepulchral stone in 
 that hazel copse. This she did with much expression. At this 
 time he wore a green shade, and his head was usually bent 
 down, his eyes being weak. He remembered two or three 
 lines of the Sonnet, not the whole. It begins — 
 
 " Mark the concentred hazels that enclose 
 Yon old gray stone protected from the^ray 
 Of noontide suns." 
 
 On Sunday, as we were going to Rydal Church, we niet 
 Wordsworth * with an Italian gentleman of the name of Miers, 
 whom he was going to put on the way to Grasmere. We 
 
244 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 walked a little way with them ; and as the poet, on Italian 
 politics, is all we can desire, I asked him to inquire from Mr. 
 Miers, who was going to dine at Rydal Mount, if he knew any- 
 thing about Mazzini at Genoa. Last night Mrs. Arnold and I 
 sat with Mr. Wordsworth for above an hour, and he gave us 
 many interesting particulars which he had heard from this 
 Italian gentleman, with whom he had been much pleased. He 
 said he had asked him about Mazzini, and heard a very high 
 character of him in every respect. Mr. Miers said that shortly 
 before leaving Italy he had called on the mother of Mazzini to 
 ask her commands for her son. She was not well, but she 
 said, " Don't tell Giuseppe that you found me ill, but tell 
 him that not a day of my life passes that I do not thank God for 
 having given me such a son." Mr. Miers added that "it was 
 worthy of a Spartan mother ; but what made it so valuable 
 was, that it was uttered by a Christian one." 
 
 Wordsworth spoke with strong and deep feeling of the present 
 state of Italy and the crushing despotism of Austria, supported 
 as it is in secret, by Russia and Prussia. There is no law of 
 copyright in Italy, so that the more excellent a book is the less 
 chance an author has of making anything of the fruits of his 
 mind. Wordsworth's discourse last night was varied, accurate, 
 moral in its tone, and admirably descriptive of some scenes at 
 Nismes especially, — not a trace of age or forgetfulness, not a 
 link displaced in the chambers of imagery, or in the moral 
 bearings of the subjects he was discussing. I cannot think 
 that Milton himself could have talked more loftily against 
 despotism, or more excellently on truth and justice.] 
 
 Owing to Miss Hill's death it was not necessary for 
 Mary to return to me in Yorkshire ; and as soon as I had 
 settled all my affairs, consequent on the succession to my 
 aunt's property, I rejoined her at Duncliffe in September, 
 1839. 
 
 We very soon entered on the possibility of the pro- 
 jected purchase of Lancrigg as a summer refreshment, and 
 as her future home at my death, and as I cordially entered 
 into the plan, we authorized Mr. Wordsworth to act as our 
 
MR.WORDSWORTH.~HIS DAUGHTER'S LETTER. 245 
 
 agent in the affair, which he was most kindly pleased to 
 undertake ; and as few people have ever been so favored 
 as to have had such a poet as their man of business, or such 
 a clerk as his beloved daughter Dora, I here insert her 
 letter to my daughter on the final arrangements, received 
 in October, 1839 : — 
 
 From Dora Wordsworth to Mary F. 
 
 'J Rydal Mount, October 21rf, 1839. 
 " My father, who is gone down to Calgarth, where he 
 remains all night, requested me to inform you that this 
 morning he had a long interview with old Rowlandson, which 
 ended in his agreeing to purchase the property of Under 
 Lancrigg for one thousand and thirty pounds, seventy pounds 
 less than Mr. R. at first asked ; but my father particularly 
 desired that I might say the price ' was very handsome, and 
 more than he was likely to get from any other person, and yet, 
 duly weighing the interests of buyer and seller, his conscience 
 allowed him to take the land at that price.' My father named 
 to Mr. R. the time when it- best suited Mrs. Fletcher to take 
 possession. His reply was, ' The custom of the country is to 
 pay down the purchase-money on the 14th February, when the 
 purchaser comes into possession of the ploughed land, of the 
 pasture land 26th April, of the houses 12th May ; and it 
 would not be convenient for me, on account of my farmer, to 
 depart from this custom.' And my father ventured to say 
 that, under these circumstances, doubtless Mrs. Fletcher would 
 be willing to abide by the custom. My father desired me to 
 express his great satisfaction at your becoming possessors of 
 this little property, which has for so many years been so dear 
 to him and his, and Avhere so many happy hours have been 
 passed by them ; and his earnest wish that many years of like 
 happy enjoyment may fall to your and Mrs. Fletcher's share, in 
 which wish I most cordially unite, as would my mother and 
 Miss Fenwick were they here, but they left Ambleside this 
 morning for a three weeks' absence in the county of Durham, 
 — my mother to her relatives at Stockton-upon-Tees, Miss 
 Fenwick to hers at Whitton, where she is to meet Mr. Henry 
 
246 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Taylor and his bride, whom he is bringing down to introduce 
 to his father and mother. They were married at Hastings ou 
 Thursday. Ahnost the last thing my mother said to me was, 
 ' Be sure you write to me as soon as your father has completed 
 the bargain with Rowlandson, that I may tell the pleasant news 
 to Mrs. Arnold, and, indeed, we shall give pleasure to many by 
 this " bit of news." ' Mr. Allen Harden looked so bright upon 
 it to-day ; he is here on his return from Italy only for a few 
 days." 
 
 In May, 1840, I took lodgings at Thorney How, Gras- 
 mere, to enable us to superintend the alterations we intended 
 to make at Lancrigg, so as to fit it for our summer quarters 
 and Mary's future home. This furnished us with occupation 
 and interest of a varied kind, assisted as we were by the 
 advice and kindly interest taken in our new possession by 
 Mr. Wordsworth and his ladies at the Mount. 
 
 [The following extracts from a family note-book, written at 
 the time, may be worth inserting here as relating chiefly to 
 our intercourse with the inmates of Rydal Mount after we 
 became stateswomen in Easedale : — 
 
 From M. F.'s Note-book. 
 
 We reached Thorney How on the 1st June, 1840, from 
 Edinburgh. The day was bright and " beautiful exceedingly " 
 when we reached our old mountain lodging and took possession 
 of our bonny bit of earth adjoining to this little farm, which 
 looked its best to welcome us. Mrs. Taylor, her Mary, and 
 Angus had arrived some days before,«and our old landlady of 
 the summer 1833 gave us a kindly welcome. 
 
 It is a goodly corner we have lighted on "to bigge our- 
 selves a bower in," and a dream of former days seems about 
 to be realized without much effort on our part. So far it is 
 safer than if it had been eagerly pursued. The beauty of 
 Easedale is even greater than we remembered it to be, and 
 Lancrigg so cheerful and innocent-looking, basking in the 
 sun. I hope we shall not spoil it. The Wordsworth party 
 were kind enough to call the day after we came, but we had 
 
WALK WITH WORDSWORTH OVER LANCRIGG. 247 
 
 gone to Green Head Ghyll to get a supply of bread from the 
 chief baker of the place, and missed them. 
 
 On Thursday we called at the Mount, and the following day, 
 the 4th June, Wordsworth came to an early dinner here. He 
 was in a very happy mood, and threw himself into the interests 
 of our possession in a most engaging manner. 
 
 After dinner we all walked over the Intack part of Lan- 
 crigg to our boundary wall, and to the point the poet_ especially 
 adnilres, as commanding the wild mountain view into Far 
 Easedale on one side, and the more cultivated peep into the 
 Vale of Grasmere on the other, with the church-tower, the 
 lake, and the end of Loughrigg as the boundary, which is a 
 kind of sun-dial from that point of view. 'We went through 
 the West Copse, which led us past Kitty Crag to Far Easedale, 
 and back to Thorney How by the fiat part of the valley which 
 goes by the name of Boothwaite, a favorite evening stroll of 
 
 the poet. 
 
 After this we had many meetings of real business with 
 several neighbors Wordsworth consulted, because, as he said, 
 " They understand these things' much better than I do." When 
 we attempted to thank hinTfor the trouble he was taking for 
 us, he took leave, saying, " I always feel that those who receive 
 a benefit kindly also confer a favor." 
 
 July 31st we spent at Rydal Mount, a bright evening. Mr- 
 Henry Taylor ' and his lovely wife came with Miss Fenwick. 
 He is still very handsome, with much of thought and power in 
 his countenance. Mr. Wordsworth told us of a visit they 
 had a few days before from the Princes of Ashantee, and added, 
 "They were very good company;" and the ladies spoke 
 of the pleasing expression of the younger Prince. It is 
 to be hoped they may escape being eaten by their subjects 
 when they return. What a contrast a tea-party at Rydal 
 Mount, perhaps the highest point in man's civilized life in 
 all its bearings, and a cannibal carousal in the jungles of 
 Ashantee! It would be very interesting to trace the progress 
 of these two Princes, if one could really get near their minds. 
 They are at present under the care of a judicious tutor of the 
 name of Pyne. 
 
 1 Author of " Philip Van Ai-tevelde." 
 
248 .1 UTO BIO GRAPH Y. 
 
 The following evening we went to drink tea with our cousins 
 the Williamsons,^ at Mary Fisher's, where j\lr. and Mrs. 
 Wordsworth joined us, walking from and back to Rydal Mount 
 over the fell way. Mary Fisher had been their servant in 
 their early days at the cottage at Town End. After tea the 
 conversation turned on Crabbe and his poetry. Wordsworth 
 considers him a dull man in conversation. He said he did 
 not either give information, nor did he enliven any subject by 
 discussion. lie spoke highly of his writings as admirable 
 specimens of the kind, but he does not like the misanthropic 
 vein which runs through them. He was surprised to hear from 
 my mother that Crabbe's prose style was so stiff and artificial 
 in his letters. He said that generally good writers of verse 
 wrote good prose, especially good lettei's. " Cowper's letters 
 are everything that letters can be, and many of Burns's are 
 marvellous." His brother Gilbert, too, was an excellent prose 
 writer. I attribute this very much to the method pursued by 
 their father, and described by their tutor, Mr. Murdoch, a 
 youth engaged to teach them. He details it in a letter in Dr. 
 Currie's " Life of Bui-ns."] 
 
 A few days after our return to Duncliffe we were fol- 
 lowed by dear Margaret and her five children, Dr. Davy 
 having been requested by Lord Palmerstou to undertake 
 a special service at Constantinople with the view of effect- 
 ing some reform in the mediciil department of the Turkish 
 army, which had been agreed upon betw een the British and 
 Turkish Governme'nts. 
 
 "NVe spent a happy winter at Duncliffe with this addition 
 to our family, preferi-ing to adopt the plan of joint house- 
 keeping to having separate establishments. 
 
 Mary and I returned to Thorney How in April, 18^:1, 
 
 1 Mr. and Mrs. William.<on. He was the only child of my mother's early 
 friend and cousin, K. I'awson of Wigiiill, who married a Lincolnshire 
 clergyman and died in 1800. The second wife of her son and my mother 
 became intimate friends, and met frequently both at Lancriijg and at their 
 home, lleadiiiuly I'arsonaiie near Leeds. They now live at Kaii-stowe near 
 Hatli, doing good which will live after them in the hearts of the many 
 orphans her loving care has rescued from misery and ruin. 
 
WESTMORELAND WORKMEN. 249 
 
 to expedite the proceedings of the dilatory workmen of the 
 valley, who were highly amused at my Yorkshire activity in 
 expecting them to be at work at seven a.m., and expressing 
 surprise that the old men mounted the ladders and the young 
 stood in idleness below. Our chief carpenter and man of 
 
 affairs, old Edward W , was a fine example both in 
 
 look and manner of the Westmoreland artisan. He told us 
 that in our absence he discovered one morning that the 
 foundation of one of the walls of the old part of the house 
 had given way in the night, and that it was necessary for the 
 safety of the building that the wall should be taken down 
 and a new foundation made. The reply of the builders was, 
 " They're nobbut women, they'll niver find it out." Our 
 protector replied, " It mun come down. If they are nobbut 
 women, we munna be rogues." 
 
 Another of our Grasmere wallers amused us by his opinion 
 of Mr. Wordsworth. My daughter, when enforcing her de- 
 sire to have the chimneys like those in Troutbeck, said, 
 " Mr. Wordsworth thinks -they are the best for tliis country, 
 and we must do what he tells us." " Yes," said the man, 
 deliberately, " M'appen he has as much sense as most on us." 
 On the 16th of July, 1841, the anniversary of the fiftieth 
 year since my marriage, we took possession of our dear little 
 Lancrigg home. 
 
 We spent a very pleasant autumn seeing much of our 
 friends at Fox How and other kind neighbors; Hartley 
 Coleridge, often coming in to share our early dinner, and 
 who, with his gentle oddity and large range of contem- 
 plation over his own thoughts, always added something to 
 our stock of ideas by these wandering visits. We never 
 made out whether he liked us or not, but we always made 
 him welcome. 
 
 Our pleasant villa at Duncliffe had during our absence 
 been sold in a somewhat illegal manner, so that we were 
 
 11* 
 
250 ' AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 obliged to move, and I authorized Mrs. Davy to take the 
 large old-fashioned house of Murrayfield, which was nearer 
 Edinburgh, and which accommodated our united families 
 comfortably for the winter. 
 
 Dr. Davy returned from Constantinople and joined us at 
 Murrayfield in January, 1842. A very few nights after his 
 return I met with a bad accident by a fall down stairs. 
 There was a deep cut and bruise on one side of my fore- 
 head, and I was some hours, perhaps days, under the im- 
 pression that the injury might be of a serious nature, but 
 I bless God I never for a moment lost consciousness, and 
 if I were asked to mention three days of my active and 
 varied life I would wish to live over again, I think I should 
 say those three days that succeeded this accident, so intense 
 was the feeling of devout thankfulness that it had pleased 
 God to preserve my life and senses from sudden and afflict- 
 ing disorder. My recovery was wonderfully rapid at the 
 time. 
 
 "We returned to Lancrigg the end of April, 1842, to com- 
 plete the furnishing of the house and begin gardening 
 operations. Angus joined us soon after, and, one day after 
 being overheated by a long walk, as I was resting on the 
 sofa in the drawing-room and Angus was reading to me, I 
 was suddenly seized with a giddiness in the head, the room 
 and everything seemed whirling round me, and though I 
 never lost consciousness, these attacks returned so frequently 
 as to alarm both myself and my family ; the seizures were 
 so sudden and my helplessness under them so great as to 
 threaten danger. Dr. Davy had the great kindness to 
 come from Edinburgh to attend me ; he remained with us 
 a month, and by his skill and attention, under the Divine 
 blessing, the remedies applied proved successful. While 
 this tendency to vertigo continued, I was not allowed 
 either to read or write much, nor could I converse without 
 
MMS. FLETCHER'S ILLNESS. 251 
 
 feeling a heat of head which I had never experienced before 
 my accident. It was a summer of uncommon beauty. I 
 sat much under the oak-tree, and carriage exercise always 
 agreed with me. 
 
 [It was during this time, when our dear mother was laid 
 aside from her usually healthy and vigorous life for the first 
 time in my recollection, that an event so mournful to our 
 locality, and indeed to all England, occurred — Dr. Arnold's 
 sudden death. We experienced on that occasion a pleasing 
 mark of attention from one of our peasant neighbors, who 
 lived between Rydal and Grasmere. The intelligence of this 
 event reached the members of the Arnold family then at Fox 
 How very early on Monday morning ; and this neighbor, 
 knowing of my mother's illness, and of the great intimacy that 
 subsisted between us, and fearing she might hear it suddenly 
 in one of her daily drives, walked to Laiicrigg and reached it 
 before 7 A. M. She asked to see me in my room. This enabled 
 me, in some degree, to break the suddenness of the shock to 
 my mother ; and it was a^pleasing testimony of the interest 
 this neighbor took in both families. There was a long sus- 
 pension at this time, owing to her illness, of any continuation 
 in her family records of the sad events of that summer, for in 
 August of the same year the two youngest little boys of Dr and 
 Mrs. Davy were cut off in one week by virulent scarlet fever, 
 and interred in one grave in the West Church Cemetery in 
 Edinburgh. In writing of it afterwards, our mother says, in 
 18M]: — 
 
 It was a sorrowful season ; for not only had family 
 affliction, in the death of the two dear little grandchildren, 
 befallen us, but we had lost a neighbor and friend whom 
 we both loved and honored. This was no other than that 
 great and good man, Dr. Arnold of Rugby. He died of 
 spasm of the heart, on the 12th June, 1842, after a few hours 
 of acute suffering. He was taken away in the midst of his 
 great usefulness and wonderful happiness, leaving a wife 
 and nine childi-en — and such a wife ! sharing his every 
 
252 A UTOBIO GRAPE Y. 
 
 thought and devoting herself to his happiness with un- 
 equalled tenderness. As I said in writing to her long be- 
 fore his death, and can now repeat, with more confirmed 
 conviction, of their truth as applied to him than of any 
 man I have ever known, Milton's words — he lived in their 
 large Christian import — 
 
 " As ever in his Great Taskmaster's eye." 
 
 The sensation the death of this eminent scholar and truly 
 Christian philosopher produced in our valley was remark- 
 able. He had only spent a small part of the last eight 
 years of his life here, and yet, without popular manners, 
 his excellence, his gentle-heartedness, and genuine humility 
 of mind, had made the poor consider him their friend, and 
 the rich their genial and kind-hearted neighbor. 
 
 The return of his bereaved family to Fox How without 
 him, this sad, sad summer, was an affecting circumstance 
 to all of us. Their light had indeed become dim, but was 
 not extinguished ; for his works and his life, written by a 
 faithful chronicler, will guide and comfort the lovers of 
 Christ and goodness so long as the English language 
 endures. 
 
 My friend Lord Jeffrey writes to me in a letter lately 
 received : — 
 
 [""What you say of Arnold, and what I have been reading 
 of his correspondence, will make the neighborhood still dearer 
 and more interesting to me when we make out our visit to you. 
 It is long since I have met with anything at once so lovable 
 and so exalted. He was truly a noble creature : with the 
 firmness of a hero, he had the softness of a woman, the devot- 
 edness and zeal of an apostle or a martyr, and the gentleness 
 and lowliness of a bashful child. I do not now wonder at 
 what I used to think the exaggeration with which Mary used 
 to speak of his character and the charm of his home life. It 
 is sad to think that such an example and such a teacher should 
 have been so early lost to the world. 
 
LAST EDINBURGH WINTER. 253 
 
 " I feel, I believe, as you do as to poor T. Campbell ; and if 
 I had not always all your indulgence for his faults, I am sure 
 I am now disposed to remember nothing but his genius and his 
 virtues, for I am quite aware that he had many virtues and 
 endearing qualities, though they were more apt to give them- 
 selves out to such gentle natures as yours than to those on 
 whose ' pigeon livers ' he could not so well rely. I am glad 
 to see they mean to give him a monument in Westminster 
 Abbey. I am now agitating for one at Glasgow also. God 
 bless you. Francis Jeffrey."] 
 
 "We spent the winter of 1842-43 at Murrayfield very 
 quietly, as prudence was strongly enforced on me since my 
 late illness. 
 
 Lord Jeifrey and Mrs. Mackenzie were among our kindest 
 and most frequent visitors, and we could scarcely have had 
 any society more to our taste. Lord Cockburn also looked 
 in upon us often, with his cl^ar eyes and grand forehead 
 still untouched by age or wrinkles. 
 
 We returned in April, 1843, to Lancrigg, and as age was 
 beginning to make me feel frequent journeys and the 
 care of two houses somewhat irksome, we resolved hence- 
 forth to make Lancrigg our permanent summer and winter 
 home. 
 
 We were decided to make this arrangement by Dr. and 
 Mrs. Davy having resolved to sell their house in Edinburgh, 
 where they had suiFered so much, and to establish them- 
 selves for the future in the Lake district. They bought a 
 few acres of land a short distance from Ambleside, on the 
 way to Rydal, and built an excellent house there, which was 
 just finished and inhabited before Dr. Davy accepted an 
 appointment offered to him in his own department in the 
 West Indies. His mind was too active to be happy at his 
 age without useful employment. 
 
 Thiis, much to my contentment, it came to pass that we 
 formed a little family colony in a district early endeared 
 
254 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 to us by frequent visits, by many enduring friendships, 
 and, besides the abiding charm of the " everlasting hills," 
 possessing a circle of people singularly free from the frivol- 
 ities of fashionable life, while it combined still " plain living 
 and high thinking" at the fountain-head^ of that glorious 
 Sonnet. There was also more than ordinary cultivation 
 among the gentlefolks, who were chiefly ladies, and much 
 of honesty and independence among the working classes, 
 with very little poverty and distress, except what intem- 
 perance produced. 
 
 The winter of 1843-44 was the first we spent in Ease- 
 dale, and we found it by no means too sombre or solitary. 
 There was a frequent intercourse between our friends of the 
 Rydal valley, and Mrs. Davy and her children spent the 
 Christmas week with us. My grandson, Henry Fletcher, 
 too was with us, and left us on the 22d January, 1844, for 
 his first term at Oxford. 
 
 We had the gratification in October, 1844, of a visit from 
 Dr. and Mrs. Alison. Dr. Alison's is a character that 
 deserves to be loved and honored. He has devoted his 
 life to the health and comfort of the poor, and his means 
 also, and the excellent pamjahlet he published in 1840, on 
 the destitution of the poor in Scotland, awakened all classes 
 in that country to a sense of shame, and a desire to inquire 
 into and remedy the abuses he was the first to disclose and 
 make public. In consequence of his book, associations 
 were formed in Edinburgh, and in all the great towns in 
 Scotland, to inquire into the statements he had made, and 
 to apply to Parliament for a Poor Law for Scotland more 
 suited to the condition of the people, and to the increased 
 wealth and ability of the higher classes. Dr. Alison will 
 in after times be considered one of the greatest benefactors 
 of his country, as he is now looked up to as the man most 
 
 1 Rydal Mount. 
 
CHRISTMAS FESTIVITIES. 255 
 
 distinguished for personal and active exertions in the cause 
 of humanity. "We considered it a great honor to have 
 such a man under our roof, and Mrs. Alison's talents, prin- 
 ciples, and most agreeable manners, make her worthy to 
 be his wife. It is one of the true pleasures of age to be 
 able to continue the early friendship I had for their accom- 
 plished father in the persons of two of his children, Dr. 
 Alison and dear Mrs. Burge. 
 
 After the Alisons left us, the days shortened, and winter 
 set in early, with more than usual severity. Henry Fletcher 
 came from Oxford to spend his Christmas, and his cheerful 
 temper cheered our winter fireside. My sailor grandson 
 Archibald, who had just been promoted to the rank of 
 lieutenant, joined his brother here on his way to Edin- 
 burgh. The brothers were delighted to meet again. Archi- 
 bald's promotion was a joyful event, and his coming a great 
 pleasure to us all. 
 
 We had some pleasant neighborly gatherings at Christ- 
 mas, and to keep my birthday in January, when games and 
 charades were performed by young and old with great 
 effect. Our pleasant neighbors, Mrs. Cookson and her 
 daughters, assisted and enjoyed the fun, and I was glad to 
 feel a growing intimacy and regard between Mrs. Cookson 
 and myself. It is not often warm friendships are formed so 
 late in life ; but she commanded my respect and affection 
 from the first by her dignified submission to altered circum- 
 stances, her active benevolence, and her motherly heart. 
 
 The Rev. Robert Graves, at that time and for several 
 ye^rs the curate at Bowness, was a favorite guest at the 
 family gatherings which took place on the 15th January, to 
 keep my birthday, and he was playfully designated my 
 " poet laureate." He is a man much beloved, of wide 
 sympathies and varied cultivation. [We had at this time 
 as neighbors, at Wansfell, Mr. and Mrs. W. R. Greg, and 
 
256 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 had much friemilr intercourse. — both, behig the children 
 of ohi friends of my mother, in adiiition to their own merits 
 of kindness and agreeableness.] 
 
 ^Te never for a moment repented of our resohition " to 
 marrj the Lakes after flirting" with them so long. 
 
 [To Mrs. Fletcher. 
 
 ON THE SETESTY-FIFTH ANSITEESART OF HER BIRTHDAY. 
 
 " Far to mine inward sense a solemn toll 
 
 That word, thy birthday. Friend revered, conveys ; 
 
 Yet when upon thy stately form 1 gaze, 
 
 And drink thy glance. — bright efflux of a soul 
 
 "\A'hose charity still flows from pole to pole. 
 
 Whose fire of youth still burns with kindling rays, — 
 
 Scarce can my wondering mind believe thy days 
 
 Five years have passed man's limitary goal. 
 
 Time's Favorite art thou ; to thee we turn 
 
 For memories of the great his depths conceal. 
 
 Thine honoi'ing friends ; nor these alone we learn. 
 
 But fresh enthusiasm quaff and holy zeal. 
 
 Then live, live on ; Heaven leave thee still below, 
 
 To warm our old hearts with thy vernal glow. 
 
 •• R. P. G. 
 
 "January 15, 1845."'] 
 
 In April. 1845. we made a railway expedition to London. 
 At seventy-five I travelled from Lancaster to Euston station 
 without fatigue. We spent three agreeiible weeks with 
 my dear old friend Mrs. Chapman at Blackheath Park. I 
 went purposely to visit her ; and it was delightful to see 
 how happily and tranquilly she passes the evening of her 
 days in the midst of her affectionate family, two sons and 
 three daughters. It is instructive to see that, with much 
 difference of opinion on religious points, they agree to differ 
 without any abatement of love or respect towards each other. 
 
 We spent a pleasant hour or two with the Jeff'reys at 
 
MAZZIXI AT BLACKHEATH. 257 
 
 their hotel in Brook Street, and met there the good ohi 
 Whig Lord Lansdowne. who was very courteous and kind 
 to an ohi Edinburgh Whig Ltdy who oouhi go back as far 
 in her recollection ofpublic events as he could himself. 
 
 TTe saw Mazzini frequently during this period, as my 
 good friend was not afraid of him. and he was invited to 
 join us more than once at Blackheath at luncheon, where 
 his eloquence and the power he then had of expressing 
 himself in good English was appreciated by all. He is a 
 noble-minded creature, a man of great ability and elevated 
 spirit, ready to undergo martyrdom for the deliverance of 
 his country from the different tyrannies which crush it — 
 north and south, east and west. He is not loud, but deep 
 in the expression of patriotic feeling, and righteous in his 
 hatred of oppression and injustice. 
 
 There is still a deep melancholy abotit the habitual ex- 
 pression of his fine countenance, but it is very ditterent 
 from what it was when I first saw him> in 1837. He is 
 evidently working for his c(5untry with more of hope than 
 he then had. He gave us a little account of his Italian 
 school, which still goes on, and spoke with deep feeling of 
 the brothers Bandieri. "When we told him how much we 
 had liked Thomas Carlyle's letter about liim at the time the 
 opening of his letters was brought before Parliament, his 
 face lighted up with pleasure, and he said, " Yes, and you 
 do not know why it was so good of Carlyle to write it, for 
 we had before that some dift'erences of opinion which had 
 led to some coolness between tts. bttt when he saw I needed 
 a friend he came to my sitpport ; that I call noble." He 
 spoke of Sir James Graham's attack upon him in the House 
 of Commons with perfect composure, saying that he felt it 
 more for his friends than for himself. 
 
 "VTe reached our dear home the end of May, 1S45, after 
 this little peep into the busy world, and enjoyed a pleasant 
 
 Q 
 
258 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 summer seeing several old friends, with the usual variety 
 that summer brings with it at the Lakes — of agreeable 
 strangers from distant lands. 
 
 We accepted the pressing invitation of our kind friends, 
 the Miss Campbells, 35 Heriot Row, to go to Edinburgh in 
 the spring of 1846, taking my granddaughter Grace Davy 
 with us, that she might have the advantage of Edinburgh 
 masters for a time. We reached Edinburgh on the 28th of 
 February. We had no cause to complain of our wintry 
 journey, and were most lovingly received by our warm- 
 hearted friends. 
 
 On the morrow, Sunday, I was too tired to go to church, 
 but after morning service we had several visitors. Lord 
 Jeffrey, Mrs. Thomson, Dr. Allen Thomson, and others. 
 If I had ever doubted the warmth and kindness of the 
 Scottish character, this visit to Edinburgh would have 
 convinced me of it. 
 
 The hospitalities and cordial welcomes of a whole winter 
 were crowded into the two very agreeable months we spent 
 under the roof of our hospitable friends. We scarcely made 
 a single new acquaintance, nor did we wish it. We went to 
 no public places of any sort, or to any fashionable parties, 
 but our time was occupied from seven in the morning till 
 ten at night, when I was glad to retire to bed. From seven 
 till nine I wrote letters in bed by candle-light. We break- 
 fasted at ten ; after that till twelve I had a levee of humble 
 friends, old servants, and pensioners, those who wished to 
 tell me their family history and hear mine, without being 
 objects of charity. After luncheon, the world, as it may be' 
 called, flocked in upon us, and none of those whom we had 
 known ever so slightly failed to pay us this mark of personal 
 regard on our return to Edinburgh. We dined oxit three or 
 four times a week, attending Lord Jeffrey's most pleasant 
 soirees, to which he gave us the entree, and also Lady 
 
DR. CHALMERS. 259 
 
 Murray's, at both of which we met many I had known in 
 the nursery, now eminent barristers. 
 
 One of our highest gratifications during this visit to 
 Edinburgh was to hear Dr. Chalmers address his humble 
 congregation in the Tanners' Warehouse in the West Port, 
 where he has assembled a ragged school for week-day 
 teaching, and it is used as a place of worship on Sundays. 
 It is near the scene of the Burke murders. The persons, 
 old and young, who are gathered together there, never 
 probably before heard the word of God, or were taught to 
 feel their relation to Him as immortal beings. 
 
 We breakfasted with Dr. and Mrs. Chalmers at Morning- 
 side the day after he completed his sixty-sixth birthday. 
 His morning prayer was beautiful, one of its petitions I 
 remember, " Give us, O Lord, such holy dispositions on 
 this side of death as may fit us for the blessedness Thou 
 hast prepared on the other side, of death for those who love 
 and do Thy truth here, in lowliness of mind." 
 
 Dr. Chalmers spoke witlTgreat interest of the Lakes and 
 of Wordsworth, asking many questions about him, and 
 returning to it when other subjects were introduced. He 
 said he took a walk from Fife to Westmoreland in 1797, 
 and he afterwards visited Rydal Mount in 1817. He said, 
 " I always felt attracted to Wordsworth by his love for the 
 common people." In speaking of Grasmere he said, with 
 a sweet glow of countenance for a man of sixty-six, " There 
 is an intense loveliness about that place." He spoke very 
 warmly of Dr. Arnold's sermons, and said they contained 
 Evangelical doctrine without the phraseology which often 
 weakens the effect of the most important truths. 
 
 We saw for the last time our faithful friend of many, many 
 years, Dr. Thomson of Morland. His mind in his eightieth 
 year was in full vigor, and it was a mind of great strength 
 and energy, with much warmth and generosity of feeling. 
 
260 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 "We spent a most agreeable day at Belmont. Lord 
 Mackenzie's conversation lias increased in richness and 
 flow, and in^ a quiet humor peculiarly his own ; his wife 
 as charming as ever, and all the intercourse we had with 
 Lord Cuninghame and his wife, and many other dear 
 friends of " auld lang syne," made us rejoice we had under- 
 taken this journey once more to experience afresh the 
 feelings of gratitude towards those with whom we lived, 
 and all who received us so lovingly. 
 
 In the autumn of 1846 we had several agreeable visitors, 
 one American lady, Margaret Fuller, and two friends with 
 her, spent some hours here. She struck us as very original, 
 with great powers of expression and genuine enthusiasm for 
 what is good and beautiful, which always attracts me much. 
 She is neither English, Scotch, nor Irish, but it is pleasant to 
 be able to communicate in our own tongue so freely as one 
 can do with an agreeable American woman of genius. 
 
 In September, Sir John Richardson paid us a week's 
 visit on his way to see his venerable mother at Dumfries. 
 We had not met since the death of his excellent wife 
 a year and a half before this time. He spoke much 
 about the different characters of his children, and we felt 
 that besides his many fine qualities, he united in a 
 remarkable degree the tenderness of a mother's feelings 
 towards them, with a father's anxiety for their good 
 and happiness. 
 
 After passing a pleasant and peaceful winter at Lancrigg, 
 Mary and I joined Mrs. Davy and her daughters at Leam- 
 ington, in February, 1847, almost a new scene to all of us ; 
 but good masters for the girls were to be had there, the 
 object of our going. 
 
 After paying several short visits on the south coast, and 
 also in Yorkshire, Mary and I reached our beloved Lanc- 
 rigg on May 17th, 1847. 
 
LETTER TO MRS. CHAPMAN. 261 
 
 Easedale was in the perfection of its early beauty, and 
 we never felt it so much as on this occasion, or enjoyed the 
 blessing of its repose more thankfully. 
 
 The preparations for Mary's marriage so occupied the 
 time that intervened before that event was to take place — 
 the 4th of August — that we saw less company than usual, 
 and I have little to relate except the calm anticipation of 
 a marriage, that was for a time to separate me from my 
 affectionate and constant companion ; but I felt we should 
 be little apart in the body, and not at all in spirit, and 
 that in her union with so amiable a companion as Sir John 
 Richardson I confided her to one who would greatly add to 
 her happiness as well as to my own. 
 
 [ To Mrs. Chapman, from Mrs. Fletcher. 
 
 " June 2m, 1847. 
 
 " I ought to have thanked yoli before this for the affectionate 
 congratulations I received from you on the happy prospects that 
 are opening for my dear Mary. Hers, as Joanna Baillie writes 
 in her congratulatory letter, is ' both a reasonable and romantic 
 marriage ; ' and this description of it accords with Mary's 
 character, which is at once reasonable and romantic — reasonable 
 in her estimate of the value of things, and romantic in her 
 standard of what is requisite in character to interest her affec- 
 tions ; hence she has always been a fastidious person, and, 
 fortunately. Sir J. Richardson happens to possess the quahties 
 to which she has always attached most importance. You, my 
 dear friend, who know what we are to each other, will feel for 
 me, as many do ; but I am more delivei-ed from self on this 
 occasion than I ever expected to be, and I can assure your 
 motherly heart that Sir John does not wish us to be separated 
 at all, but that in winter at least I should make my home at 
 Haslar for the future. Mrs. Davy claims me for the alternate 
 winters, and the summer months I shall spend at Lancrigg as 
 usual, if God so wills it ; but it is presumptuous to look for- 
 ward at seventy-seven. 
 
 " I ought to tell you, my dear old friend, that Sir John 
 
262 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Eichardson frankly told us that iu case no intelligence con- 
 cerning the fate of the Franklin Expedition reached England 
 by the return of the -whale-ships this autumn, or by their own 
 return, which he fully expects, he had promised to conduct a 
 searching boat expedition to set forth in the spring of 1848. 
 This is the only cloud in the distance ; but if Mary is wilUng 
 to undertake the charge that would then devolve upon her, it 
 is not for me to gainsay so generous a resolution." 
 
 Letter from Lord Jeffrey. 
 
 " E. I. College, Tuesday, llth May, 1847. 
 
 "My ever dear Mrs. Fletcher, — It always makes me 
 happier and better to get a letter from you, for it makes me think 
 more favorably of our common nature, and of myself also, both 
 as belonging to it and as capable of being gratified by finding it 
 so lovable. Generally, too, it lets me see that the most truly 
 lovable are the most surely happy, and this, I need scarcely 
 say, is peculiarly the case with your last most kind, most pleas- 
 ing, and most amiable communication. You have told me' 
 everything so frankly, so reasonably, so gently, and so naturally, 
 that I enter at once into all your feelings, and rejoice in your 
 joy, as cordially as if I had always had the same interests and 
 anxieties as to the objects to which they relate. 
 
 "Do assure my dear Mary of the entire sympathy I have 
 in her prospects of happiness, and of my confidence in their 
 being realized. I always thought her rather too difficult and 
 disdainful of our poor rough sex, and am very glad that she 
 has at last found one to reconcile her to it, and much obliged 
 to Sir John Richardson for having procured us that indulgence. 
 
 " I hope to see both her and you once more before I die; 
 but it cannot, unfortunately, be now. ... — With all lov'e, 
 and i-espect, and good wishes, and blessings, believe me always, 
 my dear Mrs. Fletcher, very affectionately yours, 
 
 " F. Jeffrey."] 
 
 After the marriage took place (on the 4th of August), 
 and the wedding guests had dispersed, I courted repose, and 
 Margaret, with her usual attention to my wishes and com- 
 fort, invited the whole party to spend the evening at 
 
LETTER TO LADY RICHARDSON. 
 
 263 
 
 Lesketh How, leaving dear Mrs. Taylor to stay quietly 
 with me at Lancrigg. Days and weeks passed on, en- 
 livened by letters from the married pair on their tour 
 through Holland and on the Rhine, where they paid an 
 interesting visit at Pastor Fliedner's Institution at Kaisers- 
 werth, Sir John having a hope of getting some change made 
 in the nursing arrangements at Haslar Hospital. 
 
 Mrs. Taylor, her daughter, and Angus, formed my home 
 circle. Some very agreeable neighbors, of the name of 
 Broadley, took lodgings at Thorney How that autumn. 
 We found them a great acquisition, and met frequently in 
 a pleasant way. Our autumn passed pleasantly, and every 
 exertion was made by those with me to lessen my feelings 
 of regret, or rather of want, in the loss of her who, as Words- 
 worth used to observe, was my " inseparable companion." 
 
 [From Mrs. Fletcher, to her daughter Mary. 
 
 " September, 1847. 
 " I have been reading with great interest Mr. Brooks' suc- 
 cessful action against a fleet of pirates off Borneo. I see that 
 great and good man is coming home to have his Governorship 
 of Labuan ratified. If he is at Portsmouth I hope Sir John 
 and he may meet; he is a noble specimen of what disinterested 
 courage and humanity can achieve. I think your husband and 
 he are kindred spirits. 
 
 " I took a turn before breakfast this morning, and stood at 
 your favorite point at the gate looking into Easedale. I also 
 took leave of poor Wifie,i but hope to see her again at Haslar, 
 and you on her back. I gave Joseph strict charges to see her 
 safe in her box at Oxenholme. Mrs. Arnold came with the 
 Lesketh How party yesterday to dinner. I see how much she 
 misses you when she comes here, dear Mary. To me you are 
 so constantly present that I think I miss you less when I am 
 in company than when I am alone, and could have a quiet chat 
 with you; but in or out of company I bless God for having 
 
 1 A favorite gray pony. 
 
264 A UTO BIO GRAPHY. 
 
 provided you with objects of affection and opportunities of use- 
 fulness which will be of such value to you after my death. 
 This hope and belief cheers and supports me continually, and 
 prevents my complaining of our temporary separation."] 
 
 At the end of October, when my other children left me, 
 I v^ent to Lesketh Hovp. It vv^as a cheerful, pleasant winter. 
 Mrs. Davy and her dear girls did all that affection and sym- 
 pathy can do to cheer the occasional languor of age, and I 
 bless God for having given me such a child as Margaret, ful- 
 filling as she does the duties of a Christian daughter, wife, 
 and mother. 
 
 \_From letter to her daughter Mary. 
 
 " November 2itli, 1847. 
 " We went this evening to drink tea at Rydal Mount, and 
 found the dear old couple tete-a-tete. Mrs. Arnold went with 
 us. Mr. Wordsworth was more like his former self than I 
 have seen him since Dora's death. He showed us two letters 
 he had had this week from ladies he had never seen or heard 
 of, — one in prose, the other in verse. The former said she was 
 the wife of a hard-worked London solicitor with five children. 
 She found her greatest solace for all her cares and troubles in 
 his ' Excursion.' She compared herself to a wearied traveller 
 seated by a dusty roadside, tired and thirsty, M'hen lo ! a 
 fountain of fresh water sprang up by her side; she drank of it 
 freely, was refreshed and strengthened to pursue her journey. 
 This was the effect ' The Excursion ' produced on her mind 
 and feelings. The other letter was from a solitary single woman, 
 who describes herself as one who has survived all her kindred 
 and the friends of her youth, and, seated on the sandy beach 
 at Southport, she can forget all her sorrows when she has a 
 volume of Wordsworth in her hand. Some of the lines are 
 very good, and reminded us of Crabbe. Mrs. Arnold told him 
 a gentleman at Oxford had made Susy read to him Words- 
 worth's Poem of ' Lycoris,' and we begged him to read it to 
 us. He said it was suggested to him one day at Ullswater, 
 in the year 1817, by seeing two white sunny clouds reflected 
 
VISIT TO LIVERPOOL. 265 
 
 in the lake. ' They looked (he said) like two swans.' He read 
 the poem twice over, in his most beautiful and impressive man- 
 ner. It describes a feeling quite familiar to me, — the prefer- 
 ence the young have for autumn and the old for spring."] 
 
 Lesketh How, loth January, 1848. — I bless God for 
 having permitted me to see this seventy-eighth birthday in 
 the possession of all my mental faculties, and in bodily 
 health less infirm than is common to persons of my age. 
 I have through this long life experienced so many mercies, 
 that my heart is full, but not full enough, of thankfulness 
 and love towards that Being who created and redeemed 
 me. Blessed be His name. From infancy I have been an 
 object of tender love to all my family and relations that 
 watched over me. I had the kindest and tenderest of 
 husbands, and now, in my seventy-ninth year, I am blessed 
 with most dutiful and affectionate children and grand-chil- 
 dren, and many most attached friends. This day I received 
 testimonies of this love and'respect from dear Margaret and 
 her three children, from Mrs. Taylor and her Mary, from 
 my own Mary and her excellent husband Sir John Richard- 
 son (whose letter I shall keep while I live), and from my sou 
 Angus, who never forgets his mother's birthday. 
 
 On the 19th of February, 1848, Mrs. Davy and I and 
 her two daughters set off in the train from Birthwaite to 
 Liverpool. We were most kindly welcomed by Mrs. 
 Rathbone and her excellent husband at Green Bank, and 
 spent three days most agreeably with them. They are 
 people whose whole lives have left a track-life to those who 
 follow them, both of them being constantly occupied in 
 seeking and finding opportunities of doing good. They 
 unite with all the most active principles of the Christian 
 character, the most liberal opinions, and a spirit of charity 
 and good-will to those who differ from them in religious 
 opinions. 
 12 
 
266 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 
 
 Mrs. Rathbone introduced me to a most remarkable 
 character, " Catherine of Liverpool," the well-known washer- 
 woman, who, after helping all her poor neighbors to keep 
 themselves clean, while she herself was toiling for her 
 daily bread and supporting her aged mother, and making 
 her house a refuge for many an orphan child, is now, 
 through the influence of Mrs. Rathbone, placed at the head 
 of a great washing establishment for the poor. Catherine 
 is an Irishwoman, and a Methodist, and has all the fluency 
 and cheerfulness of her countrywomen, with all the Christian 
 love of God and her neighbor which John Wesley taught 
 his followers as the main evidence and test of their religion. 
 It did one's heart good to hear Catherine pour out her 
 gratitude to Mrs. Rathbone when that lady was not within 
 hearing. 
 
 From Green Bank we went the first day to Rugby to 
 see Archy Davy, and the following day (the 23d) reached 
 the Euston Square station, where Angus met us ; and we 
 found waiting for us, in the lodgings taken in Weymouth 
 Street, dear Mrs. Taylor and her daughter. Sir John 
 Richardson, and my own Mary, who were on a visit to 
 Lady Franklin. A gladder heart than mine was not that 
 day in London, to have my four surviving children and my 
 excellent son-in-law. Sir John Richardson, and three dear 
 great-grandchildren all about me, in health and comfort, 
 and all making merry at my expense when I insisted, after 
 my journey, on setting forth before dinner to make my- 
 self " hraw " by buying a cap and bonnet in Regent 
 Street. 
 
 I had not seen my dear Mary since I had jjarted with 
 her on her marriage-day, the 4th of August. We were so 
 glad to meet again, that the traces of anxiety on the near 
 prospect of parting with her husband were that day not 
 predominant in her speaking countenance. 
 
LETTER TO MRS. STARK. 267 
 
 [Part of letter to Mrs. Stark, from Mrs. Fletcher. 
 
 " Haslar, March 2m, 1848. 
 " The public and private events that have filled the last five 
 •weeks since we left Lesketh How and reached this place leave 
 me at a loss how to write to you at this the first leisure hour 
 I have been able to command. ... I remained with our assem- 
 bled family party a week in London, dining out nowhere but 
 at Lady Franklin's, where the Kichardsons were on a visit. 
 On the evening of the 2-ith, at Lady Franklin's soiree, Dr. 
 Boott came in and gave us the first news of the French revolu- 
 tion — that is, the news of the tocsin sounding in the streets 
 of Paris, the tricolor waving as of old, the fraternization of the 
 people, and the military helmets (not heads) carried on poles 
 through the streets, and the people rushing into the Chamber 
 of Deputies, crying ^Vive la Republique.' We were struck 
 dumb with this astounding intelligence. Mr. Carlyle was sit- 
 ting by me at the time. I looked at him, hoping he would 
 speak. He said not a word, but broke out into a loud laugh, 
 and rose and left the house, jfeordevour the journals, which that 
 night were filled with news from Paris. 
 
 ' ' I had engaged Mazzini to breakfast with us the following 
 morning, and he came ; by that time the flight of the King and 
 of Guizot was known, and the excitement had become exces- 
 sive. It was beautiful to hear Mazzini's eloquent and simple 
 lamentation over the moral degradation of Guizot. ' It was 
 from his lectures,' he said, ' I first learned to love civil and 
 religious liberty ; and that such a man should truckle to the 
 base measures of Louis Philippe is deplorable.' 1 asked Mazzini 
 what effect this would produce in Italy. ' The most glorious 
 effect,' he answered ; 'the fall of the French monarchy is the 
 restoration and union of Italy.' 
 
 " We heard a few days after this Mazzini had left London 
 for Paris ; and he is one of those master spirits destined, I trust, 
 not only to serve but to save his country. He is a determined 
 and uncompromising republican, but so true a lover of justice 
 and humanity that he will take no part with those who do not 
 make these their principles of action. . . . 
 
 " As to French affairs, I cannot pretend to see or understand 
 
268 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 how the financial difficulties are to be got over. Lamartine 
 immortalized himself at first by abolishing the punishment of 
 death for all political offences ; but my great hope is in the 
 ascendency of Odillon Barrot over the National Guard and the 
 middle classes. His extraordinary freedom from selfishness and 
 party spirit in yielding to and even supporting the Provisional 
 Government till the elections are over, when they resign their 
 power to the will of the National Assembly, is above all praise. 
 If all this can be accomplished without anarchy and bloodshed, 
 it will be owing to the moderation of Odillon Barrot and his 
 friends, who stand in the position the Gironde held in 1792. 
 
 " What a beautiful manifestation does this contrast of 1848 
 to 1792 make as to the improvement and progress of Europe in 
 the last sixty years! Tell Mrs. Bannatyne, with my kind love, 
 that I rejoice she has lived to make this glorious comparison. 
 It is a comfort to us both to know that the smallest services 
 those we loved best rendered to the good cause in those days of 
 cowardly oppression, when they, and honest men like them, 
 never shrank from the maintenance of high principles, that 
 such service then, tells now in the different reception that 
 England and Scotland gave to this over that state of things in 
 France in 1792. But I must quit this most engrossing subject, 
 and come down from my hobby to private matters. 
 
 " Sir John Richardson left us last Monday, and was to sail 
 yesterday from Liverpool to New York. He gave me a short 
 sketch of his route, which I sent to my granddaughter, desiring 
 her to make a copy to send to you. 
 
 " As Sir Edward Parry told me yesterday, ' I think no man 
 ever set out in a truer missionary spirit, or made a more gener- 
 ous sacrifice of private happiness than he has done,' and I am 
 thankful to say his wife fully participates in the unselfishness 
 of his conduct. The separation has been and is a very great 
 trial to her. I thought her looking very ill and anxious when 
 I came, but she is calm, subdued, and not uncheerful. She 
 is devoted to the children, and they cling round her with 
 confiding affection. She and I have the heart-intercourse we 
 always had, and I am thankful. I think I told you Sir John 
 had kindly proposed to take Thorney How for the governess 
 and children during the time of his absence, so that we might 
 
SEVENTY-NINTH BIRTHDAY. 269 
 
 be as little separated as possible. Lancrigg would not bold us 
 all with my other summer guests. 
 
 " I return with Margaret in April, and Mary joins me in May 
 with her little flock. The Admiralty allow Sir John the use 
 of the house here should Westmoreland not agree with the 
 children, I have not written so long a letter for many months, 
 so, dear friend, you must take the quantity instead of the qual- 
 ity. God bless you all. E. F."] 
 
 Lancrigg, 14th January, 1849. — To-morrow, if it please 
 God to spare me till then, I shall have completed my seventy- 
 ninth birthday, and entered upon the eightieth year of my 
 life. This is a solemn thought, and ought to excite in me 
 the deepest thankfulness to God for having been permitted 
 to enjoy so much health of body and mind at so advanced 
 a period. I have not been without my share of trials and 
 disappointments, or deep sorrows, but they have been ac- 
 companied with many alleviations. I have loved much, 
 and have had the happiness to be much beloved, as a 
 daughter, wife, and mother. These are the crowning 
 mercies of God in my pilgrimage hitherto, but my soul 
 longs for a more intimate communion with God. I delight 
 to do His will, and rejoice in the spirit of thankfulness 
 for " the goodness and mercy " which " have followed me 
 all the days of my life," but I deplore the sinfulness of my 
 nature : I am too apt to be disturbed by trifles, am too 
 impatient, and not sufficiently attentive to the feelings of 
 others. I have too much self-love, and am not so humble- 
 minded as I would desire to be. Oh my God, Thou who 
 knowest my infirmities, have mercy upon me ; pardon my 
 transgressions in thought, word, and deed ; make me to 
 feel habitually that " I am poor and needy, but that Thou 
 carest for me ; " and in the trial that awaits me, the parting 
 with my dear and dutiful child Mary, who has been my 
 affectionate companion from her childhood, grant that I 
 
270 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 may submit without repining to a separation that she feels 
 not less than I do, but which it is plainly her duty to do, 
 and mine to suffer. It is a more grievous separation than 
 that occasioned by her marriage, because she then had a 
 cheerful and happy home to go to, and the companionship 
 of her husband to cheer and support her. Now her anxie- 
 ties about his safety are aggravated by her sorrow for poor 
 Josephine Richardson's illness and her concern for me ; 
 but God, who knows the singleness of her heart and the 
 integrity of her purpose to do her duty, will support and 
 bless her. 
 
 Lancrigg, April 21, 1849. — Towards the end of Decem- 
 ber, 1848, a joyful event occurred : Dr. Davy returned 
 safely and in good health from Barbadoes, and the thank- 
 fulness and gladness of heart thus afforded to my dear 
 Margaret was visible in her countenance and the improve- 
 ment of her health and spirits. 
 
 Another event conducive to my tranquillity of mind and 
 domestic happiness occurred. Angus had been invited by 
 the Colonization Society in London to accompany some dep- 
 uties from their committee to visit the large manufactur- 
 ing towns of Yorkshire for the purpose of promoting emi- 
 gration to Australia for the unemployed operatives. The 
 Chartists opposed the meetings held at Leeds for this pur- 
 pose ; at Huddersfield, however, the deputies secured a 
 patient hearing, which was much owing to the personal 
 influence of Mr. W. E. Forster, of Bradford, who is con- 
 sidered by all parties as the poor man's friend, so that his 
 apj^robation of the views of the Colonization Society induced 
 about ninety hand-loom combers to volunteer to emigrate 
 under the auspices of the Society. Angus offered me a visit, 
 and brought with him at my request his kind friend Mr. 
 Forster, to spend a week at Lancrigg. Mr. Forster had 
 been first made known to us by Mrs. Charles Fox, of Fal- 
 
MRS. GASKELL. 271 
 
 mouth. On this occasion he brought with him a novel 
 then just published, " Mary Barton." Mr. Forster did not 
 know by whom it was written, nor did we know for some 
 months after this, but we were at once struck with its power 
 and pathos, and it was with infinite pleasure I heard that 
 it was written by the daughter of one whom I both loved 
 and reverenced in my early married life in Edinburgh, so 
 that I had a twofold pleasure in making Mrs. Gaskell's 
 acquaintance through Miss M. Beever, who knew her at 
 Manchester, and who told me she always asked abovit me 
 with interest. Thus by these seeming chances are people 
 brought into contact with those who are associated with 
 much that is of interest in their past lives. 
 
 My dear Mary set off for her Haslar Home with the 
 three younger cliildren, as their sister was unable to leave 
 the good medical care she had at home. This separation 
 was a great trial to us both, b^ut we submitted to it without 
 complaining, and Miss Craik, who had joined me at Lanc- 
 rigg, kindly agreed to remain with me till the end of March, 
 and Angus agreed to remain with me for the winter. Miss 
 Craik, the daughter of one of my oldest friends, proved a 
 most pleasant companion to both of us. She has a most 
 intelligent mind, always in pursuit of knowledga; great 
 sweetness of temper, and quick sympathies. We had a quiet 
 but by no means an uncheerful winter. 
 
 Towards the end of March I was conscious of an ex- 
 cessive activity of mind, even amounting to a painful 
 degree of restlessness, like a person wlio, on the eve of a 
 long journey, remembers to have left many needful things 
 undone, and feeling the shortness of time to do them in, 
 is in a continual hurry and state of unrest. About the 
 end of March I used to awake every night with a distract- 
 ing pain in my head. I certainly thought (notwithstanding 
 Dr. Davy's opinion that the symptoms were not alarming) 
 
272 AUTOBIOGBAPHY. 
 
 that I had not long to live ; and I bless God, humbly and 
 fervently, that in the moments of extremest pain, when 
 death would have been most welcome, I had a strong 
 persuasion that the severe suffering He permitted me to 
 experience was but a new proof of His Fatherly love and 
 mercy. I had, through faith in the blessed promises of 
 His Son, made my peace with Him, so that I had no fear 
 of death ; but my heart had fainted under the terror of 
 the bodily agony that commonly precedes the separation of 
 soul and body, and the thought of parting with my dear, 
 children was often overwelming. Now I perceived the 
 goodness of God in sending me this sharp pain to wean me 
 from life and disarm death of all its bodily terrors. The 
 only desire of my heart was to assemble all my children 
 about me, that I might see them once more before my 
 mind was utterly gone. They came most affectionately at 
 my call, and before long the pains gradually subsided. I 
 got more sleep, and by this 23d of April, 1849, 1 record with 
 thankfulness my comparative restoration to health. 
 
 On the 1st of May, 1849, after this illness, I rose much 
 refreshed. It was a glorious morning, the first day of svmi- 
 mer according to my calendar. When I looked out of the 
 window at six in the morning, a crowd of poetical images 
 and recollections filled my mind ; and though I could not 
 express them poetically, I set down my thoughts in measured 
 lines as follows : — 
 
 COMPOSED IN THE EARLY MORNING OF MAT IST, 1849, BY E. F. 
 
 Hail! glorious day, in Spring's fresh verdure clad, 
 
 Queen of the year, all Nature worships thee. 
 
 Last eve, at twilight's close, I marked the swift 
 
 And winged harbingers of summer days 
 
 Flock to their clay-built homes beneath the eaves, 
 
 Wearied with flight ; and at the morning's dawn 
 
 They give thee welcome, while the " wandering voice" 
 
LETTER TO SIR J. RICHARDSON. 273 
 
 Had travelled long, and far, to join his notes 
 
 To the glad gush of song that hails thy coming. 
 
 The little lambs skip with fantastic glee, 
 
 And the green carpet with which earth is clothed 
 
 Is spangled o'er with flowers of brilliant hue. 
 
 Time was when l\ a happy village child, 
 
 With sportive gladness ranged the flowery fields 
 
 To gather garlands for this festive day ; 
 
 The scented cowslip, purple orchis joined, 
 
 And wild blue hyacinth, with primrose tufts, 
 
 For votive offerings at each cottage door. 
 
 That eighty summers have not dimmed the sense 
 
 Of these pure pleasures — God, be thine the praise! 
 
 {^Part of letter from Mrs. Fletcher to Sir J. Richardson. 
 
 " 1849. 
 
 "I little expected once more to feel the same deep interest 
 in any event which my dear husband and I did feel in the 
 French Revolution of 1789, before France had committed 
 savage cruelty, and when all gqod men rejoiced in the destruc- 
 tion of a grinding despotisrn, the fruits of which were bitterness 
 and ashes ; but the Roman Republic has roused the same 
 high hopes and the same deep interests for the restoration of 
 that noble people. We hear that Mazzini is actively employed 
 in exhorting the people and restraining them from acts of 
 violence." 
 
 , To her daughter Mary. 
 
 " Lesketh How, ?,lh July, 1849. 
 
 " I have to thank you for two most welcome letters. Alaa 
 for Rome! I knew how you would feel when you read 
 ' The French in Rome ; ' but Mr. Price gave me some comfort ; 
 he said, ' You may be sure the noble defence of the Roman 
 people will have an imperishable influence on the future state 
 of Italy. Formerly the Italians could not depend on each 
 other : now that distrust is vanished. All true friends of 
 freedom will understand each other, and it will be in vain for 
 Austria or the united despots to crush the spirit that defence 
 has manifested.' There is still great comfort in this hope, 
 and it is nobler in the Assembly and the Triumvirate to spare a 
 12* K 
 
274 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 massacre than to immolate thousands of innocent victims on the 
 shrine of national independence. Those who have fallen will 
 not have fallen in vain if their fate shall rivet the love of liberty 
 and hatred of oppression on their surviving countrymen." 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 " Yesterday, about two o'clock, we drove off to call on Mrs. 
 Gaskell at Millbrow, and found her, with her two friendly 
 inmates and fine children, looking bright and happy. She 
 has a noble countenance, intelligent and modest. She received 
 us, as she always does, with that expression of heartfelt 
 cordiality the Richardsons did at Chatham. She came back 
 with us to dinner. The Palmses came to tea, and were 
 delighted to meet the writer of "Mary Barton." 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 " Thou art thy father's own daughter. The lines are 
 beautiful, full of high and noble feeling. ... I will not be- 
 lieve that INIazzini has fled, but if he has fled from so base, so 
 perfidious an enemy, it is not that he fears death, but that he 
 has still faith in the good cause, and he may yet serve it and 
 fulfil his high mission, for if there ever was a soldier that took 
 righteousness for his breastplate, that soldier is INIazzini. 
 
 " I expect every moment the car to be announced that is to 
 take the children and me to Lancrigg, to meet Mrs. Gaskell and 
 her party to take luncheon there. They are to go to Easedale 
 Tarn after it, while I take repose. Dear Lancrigg! you are, if 
 possible, more present to me there than anywhere else, and I 
 cling to it."] 
 
 Soon after her return to Fox How in September, 1849, 
 Mrs. Arnold asked me to meet her distinguished guest, 
 the Chevalier Bunsen, who, with his wife and daughters 
 and one son, was staying with her for a few days. The 
 very high estimation Dr. Arnold formed of the Chevalier's 
 talents and goodness made us very anxious to see him. 
 His countenance beams with benevolence, and his conversa- 
 tion is full of good feeling, intelligence, and liberality. I 
 
THE CHEVALIER BUN SEN. 275 
 
 was glad to hear him reprobiate the interference of France 
 in the affairs of Italy, and speaking of Mazzini he said, 
 " He is a man of very great ability, perfectly honest, and 
 purely disinterested, but I do consider him a fanatic in 
 politics." He thinks highly of the national character of 
 the Italians, and very lowly of the French. " The French 
 have no faith in anything ; they change their political 
 principles as easily as the color of their cockade ; to-day 
 it is blue, to-morrow red, and the next day tricolor." He 
 seemed to think free institutions quite incompatible with 
 Papal domination, and did not risk an opinion as to what 
 might be the final result of the liberal movement in Italy. 
 For Kossuth and his brave Hungarian compatriots he ex- 
 pressed great admiration and sympathy. All he said was 
 expressive of candor, liberality, and good faith, and I felt 
 it a new obligation to Mrs. Arnold that she had allowed us 
 to meet this excellent man. 
 
 About three weeks later'we set off for Mr. Williamson's 
 parsonage, near Leeds. It was here I had the very great 
 satisfaction of learning accidentally from the schoolmaster 
 that Sir John Richardson had reached Lake Superior on 
 his homeward route. This cheering intelligence had ap- 
 peared in the Times of that morning. He had not been 
 heard of for more than twelve months, and I well knew 
 the happiness this intelligence would convey to all at Haslar. 
 We spent two days most agreeably with our kind friends 
 at Headingley, and on Thursday evening reached Rugby, 
 where I found a letter from Mary, who had received a tele- 
 graphic despatch from the Admiralty with the joyful news. 
 Next day she met me with a light heart in London, and 
 we remained with our good friend Dr. Boott till we left 
 town on Tuesday the 30th of October, for Haslar. On the 
 Sunday I went to hear Mr. Gurney preach in Marylebone, 
 called for Madame Mohl at Mrs. Reid's, and drove to see 
 
276 A UTOBIO GRAPH Y. 
 
 our excellent old friends, the Miss Baillies, at Hampstead. 
 Miss Joanna told us her sister was ninety, herself, I believe, 
 being eighty-six, and both still enjoying life with thankful- 
 ness. We dined that day with dear Mrs. Taylor, and ou 
 the next I went with Dr. Boott to see the Nineveh marbles 
 at the British Museum, and the model lodging-houses for 
 the poor near St. Giles's. That district looked more dirty 
 and unwholesome than any of the wynds in Edinburgh, 
 and the cholera had prevailed there to a frightful degree, 
 while out of fourteen hundred inhabitants of the model 
 lodgings in its neighborhood there had not been one case. 
 
 On our reaching Haslar the little boys clung round their 
 mamma's neck with such eagerness that they fairly brought 
 her to the ground on the threshold of her own door. 
 
 On Monday, the 5th of November, Mary had a telegraphic 
 despatch that the Hibernia had reached Liverpool. It 
 was Sir John's birthday, and we had hoped he might have 
 spent it with us, but he did not reach London till Tuesday 
 night. Next day he had to report himself at the Admi- 
 ralty, where he was detained some hours, and where he met 
 with Sir James Ross, who had appeared there that day on 
 his return from the Arctic Expedition. Of course we were 
 all on the qui vive as the hour of the arrival of the train 
 approached, and at eight o'clock on the 8th of November 
 Sir John was joyfully received at his happy home. We 
 all thought him looking better and younger than when 
 he went away. There never were more heartfelt prayers of 
 thankfulness than those he read to his family that night. 
 
 \_Part of letter to 3frs. Arnold, Fox How, from 
 Mrs. Fletcher. 
 
 " Haslar, Nov. 8, 1849. 
 " Some hours' detention at the Admiralty makes us doubtful 
 whether our dear traveller may reach his happy home till to- 
 
LETTER TO MRS. BOOTT. 277 
 
 morrow. In the meantime 1 begin a letter to you, which I 
 shall leave open till I can tell you he is actually under his own 
 roof. The lively sympathy Mary meets with from all her 
 neighbors and friends here is really most delightful. Sir 
 John Richardson has been prayed for by name in the parish 
 church at Alverstoke during the whole of his perilous travel 
 by land and water ; and the warm-heartedness expressed on 
 all occasions by his sailor shipmates and brother officers here 
 makes one really think there is a freshness of feeling in the 
 sailor's heart that is not to be found in the same degree 
 among landsnien. 
 
 " How glad we are, dear friend, to hear of your delightful 
 letters from all your absent sons ; but your dear William is 
 my hero now, and you know I am nmch addicted to hero-wor- 
 ship. There is not any one to whom I have mentioned the 
 voluntary labor of the young soldier in the work of educa- 
 tion that has not been struck with this energetic trait of his 
 father's son. 
 
 " A telegram has just come from the Admiralty to say that 
 Sir John may be here to-night. 
 
 " I write with many joyful interruptions from friends commg 
 in with hearty congratulations. Good news circulates through 
 Haslar with telegraphic speed." 
 
 To Mrs. Boon, from Mrs. Fletcher. 
 
 " Haslae, November 10th, 1849. 
 "Before I rise I must indulge myself in thanking you for 
 the sweet note I received from you yesterday. I do not know 
 a holier or happier feeling than that of gratitude towards those 
 we love and honor. Both Mary and I left your house with 
 that delightful feeling. Our traveller arrived by the late train 
 on Wediaesday night. I had my pen in hand to tell you the 
 good news yesterday, but was interrupted before the post-horn 
 sounded. He came in while his children were dancing to the 
 
 tune of 
 
 ' There's nae luck about the house,' 
 
 and you may believe his entrance did not spoil our mirth, though 
 it gave it a more subdued and quiet character. He is, thank 
 
278 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 God, in perfect health; nor could we extort from him a single 
 complaint of the hardships and privations he has suffered." 
 
 "Haslar, January 30ih, 1850. 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Burge, — I have wished to write to you, 
 hut had not courage to enter on the subject uppermost in my 
 mind — the dreadful loss your dear brother and all of you have 
 met with in the death of dear Mrs. Alison. She was a rare 
 creature, a very gifted woman. I always admired but never 
 knew her well till after Dr. Alison's publication of his pamphlet 
 about the poor, in the year 1840. I saw how very deeply her 
 heart was in thai work, and how she was affected by the moral 
 effect it produced ; for it was truly a revelation of the condi- 
 tion of humanity which no one had previously believed in or 
 suspected ; it led to great results, and she lived in the deep 
 intei-ests her husband had roused in the thinking part of the 
 community. She said she ' was a proud woman in seeing his 
 labors so appreciated. ' Then came his illness ; and the fine 
 spii'it that had been so elated was severely stricken, but not 
 crushed ; her sensibilities were so acute that she suffered more 
 from anxiety than most others equally attached would have 
 done. I cannot regret she took that last journey to England, 
 because she did it for Jiis sake, and the pulmonary complaint 
 was too deeply fixed to be curable. We were much comforted 
 to hear how calmly and how like a Christian your brother 
 bears his great aftliction. Pray offer him our kindest and most 
 respectful' sympathy. AVithin the last few days I have lost 
 another friend whom I most sincerely lament — Lord Jeffrey. 
 I cannot now think of Edinburgh without Mrs. Alison and 
 Lord Jeffrey without a depression of spirit which I thought 
 nothing less than a family bereavement would have occasioned. 
 
 " My old age is cheered by the great haj^piness I see in this 
 household. Since the return of my excellent son-in-law, Mary 
 is one of the happiest of women. I never saw a mind more 
 finely balanced than Sir John's ; with all the enthusiasm that 
 led him, on a principle of duty and affection, to undertake his 
 arduous expedition, he has the kindest, gentlest heart, and the 
 most sweet and cheerful temper, with a fund of information. I 
 hope to remain here till the first week in March, after which I 
 intend, please God, to join the Davys for six weeks in London.' 
 
LORD JEFFREY'S DEATH. 279 
 
 From Mrs. Fletcher to Mrs. Davy. 
 
 "HASUA.R, 1st Febmary. 1850. 
 
 " The death of Lord Jeffrey is indeed a inournful event to 
 me. Though so little in advance of him in years, I had always 
 considered him, a young man, young in the vigorous powers of 
 his mind, and young in the gentleness and kindness of his heart 
 — this last quality had been gaining strength by the exercise 
 of home affections; and it is impossible to have seen him with 
 his grandchildren climbing on his knee without loving the 
 aii'ectionateness of his disposition as much as one always admired 
 the brilliancy of his talents. If I, who have for many years 
 seen so little of him, feel the sadness of this stroke, what must 
 it be to his home and ' inner circle,' as he used to call that 
 of his familiar friends. It is about fifty years since I first met 
 him at James Grahame's; brilliancy in conversation was then 
 his great attraction, and flippancy his great defect. It was 
 probably the secret ambition of those who conversed with him 
 that made them afraid of him; I know this from experience. 
 He delighted in checking aspiring or ambitious women, as he 
 used to call Mrs. Millar and me — ' women that icould plague 
 him with rational conversation ' — and for many years of our 
 early acquaintance I feared more than I liked him. Just in 
 proportion as I aspired less, I gained more of his esteem and 
 respect ; and latterly there was, as you know, a perfectly 
 friendly feeling tacitly established between us. The country 
 owes him and his coadjutors avast debt of gratitude for their 
 fearless and noble advocacy of civil and political freedom in 
 the great questions of liberty of conscience, freedom of the press, 
 general education, abolition of exclusive privileges, abolition of 
 the slave trade, and a hundred other subjects, where the eman- 
 cipation of the public mind from the trammels of slavish pre- 
 judice may be traced to the influence of the Eilinburgh Reciew. 
 
 '* I belieA'e Jeffrey was a happier man in his age than in his 
 youth, though I could not help thinking at the rime I saw him 
 borne on the shoulders of the people when he was chosen mem- 
 ber for Edinbui'gh in the winter of 1882, that that was the 
 most splendid conjuncture of his fate. Many were the glad 
 tears that were shed on that occasion, when the triumph of the 
 
280 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 good cause he had so bravely advocated was attested by the 
 people's choice. He took it all so calmly; and he became a 
 humbler and therefore a greater man the more he was dis- 
 tinguished. I shall never forget the last earnest conversation 
 I had with him, after having heard on all sides on our return 
 to Edinburgh of his unequalled reputation as a Judge. I said, 
 ' I rejoice, Lord Jeffrey, to have lived to know that the Court 
 of Session possesses the confidence of the country.' He an- 
 swered with great animation, ' Yes, Mrs. Fletcher, but if it 
 had not been for the indomitable courage of your husband, in 
 the worst of times, when he and one or two more maintained 
 the independence of the Bar, we younger men would have been 
 trampled on and the Court of Session would never have en- 
 joyed the confidence of the country.' I have registered this 
 saying of Lord Jeifrey in my heart of hearts, and I would have 
 you engraft it on that of your children."] 
 
 March, 1850. — We spent a very agreeable evening at Mr. 
 Wedgwood's, where we met Sir Robert Inglis, who recog- 
 nized me as an old Edinburgh acquaintance, and Madame 
 Pulzky, the charming wife of an Hungarian patriot, who had 
 been the secretary of the distinguished Kossuth. He had 
 sacrificed immense possessions in this noble cause, and this 
 heroic woman -had followed him into exile. Her father, a 
 rich banker at Vienna, furnished them with the means of 
 living in very humble lodgings, and yet not a regret or com- 
 plaint escaped her. She had with difficulty avoided the 
 horrors of captivity in an Austrian prison with her three little 
 boys. Their flight was arranged and accomplished by the 
 courage of a gentleman who acted as her husband's principal 
 steward, and who attended them in the assumed character 
 of a common servant. Madame Pulzky is a very attractive 
 person, very pretty, and combining much intelligence and 
 energy of character with the most engaging gentleness of 
 manners. We became well acquainted, and saw her often. 
 
 At dear Mary's earnest desire I sat for my picture to 
 
MEETING WITH MR. ROGERS. 281 
 
 Mr. Richmond, a most agreeable man and very distinguished 
 artist. We met him at Mr. Gurney's, at whose house we 
 spent a delightful evening at dinner. 
 
 We dined also one day at Lady Davy's. She called one 
 morning and politely asked me whom I should like best to 
 meet. I said, " Rogers the poet," whom I had never seen. 
 " Certainly," she said, " you shall meet him on Wednesday, 
 if you will all come and dine with me." She kindly brought 
 him, however, next day to call upon me, and I found Mr. 
 Rogers most courteous, lively, and conversable. But a day 
 or two after he was seized with a fit of the gout ; so Lady 
 Davy said, to console me for the disappointment, she had 
 asked Lord Lansdowne to meet us. I sat next the Lord 
 President of the Council, whom I remembered in Edin- 
 burgh above fifty years before, when he was Lord Henry 
 Petty, and lived with Dugald Stewart. He had the greatest 
 reverence for that excellent man, and spoke of his Edin- 
 burgh life, and of his friepds Horner, Jeffrey, and Playfair, 
 with much interest and kind-heartedness. 
 
 I had the honor of a call from Mr. Cobden and his agreea- 
 ble wife, brought by a very pleasing friend of Mrs. Gaskell, 
 Mrs. Schwabe, who had eagerly sought Mrs. Gaskell's ac- 
 quaintance after reading " Mary Barton." 
 
 The last day we spent in London was one of the busiest. 
 I went to take my last sitting at Mr. Richmond's, from 
 thence to call on the Dowager Lady Grey ; found her mind 
 as active in benevolent pursuits and as acute as ever, and 
 was much interested in the wide circle of her philanthropic 
 interests. She is a wonderful person of eighty-five. From 
 her house we drove to Lambeth Palace, a striking old 
 building. 
 
 April, 1850. — We reached Lesketh How on the 8th, and 
 heard distressing accounts of Mr. Wordsworth's dangerous 
 state. He continued to sink daily, and died on the 23d 
 
282 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 of April, 1850, about three weeks after he completed his 
 eightieth year. Although no one had expected his recovery 
 for several weeks, it is not easy to describe the mournful 
 feeling his death occasioned. It was a personal loss ; every 
 one who had enjoyed his society and friendship felt thex'e 
 was much taken out of life that was most worth living 
 for. To himself it was a blessed change, for his grief for 
 the loss of Dora, his only daughter, was incurable; and^ 
 though his devoted wife had lost everything that made life 
 precious when she lost him, yet such was the unselfishness of 
 her love towar.ds him, that I verily believe she was thankful 
 he had not been left to be the survivor. She watched by 
 him day and night, and saw him laid in his grave on Satur- 
 day, the 27th of April, in Grasmere churchyard. 
 
 \_From 3Irs. Fletcher to her daughter 3Iary. 
 
 " April 26, 1850. 
 "Mrs. Davy had a message by James Dixon to say if she 
 and Dr. Davy wished to see the remains they might go to 
 Rydal Mount. They went accordingly. Dr. D. advised me 
 not to go, he thought I might be too much excited. They 
 ■were both much struck by the likeness of the countenance, in 
 the deep repose of death, to that of Dante. The expression 
 was much more feminine than it had been in life — very like his 
 sister. She bears this sad loss with unexpected calmness. She 
 is drawn about as usual in her chair. She was heard to say, 
 as she passed the door where the body lay, ' O death, where 
 is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory!' Dear ]\Irs. 
 Wordsworth has all the earthly support she can have; her two 
 sons are with her, and heavenly support is mercifully given 
 her. She is able in calm resignation to occupy herself with 
 household duties much as usual. The funeral is to take place 
 to-morrow. It has, as you truly say, been a great privilege to 
 have seen this great and good man so nearly. I think it may 
 be said of him ' that he did justly, loved mercy, and walked 
 humbly with his God.' The funeral is to be very private — 
 
FUNERAL OF WORDSWORTH. 283 
 
 only Dr. Davy invited from this house. Margaret, the girls, 
 and I intend to drive to Grasmere an hour before, to Mr. 
 Jefferies', and we shall go into the church before it arrives." 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 " 1st May, 1850. 
 
 " Did I not, dear child, give you a detailed account of the 
 funeral? If I did not, it must have been from the impression 
 that Margaret had done so, when we returned from that 
 mournful scene. We met Mr. and Mrs. Barker ^ on the way 
 to Grasmere Church. They only heard of our great poet's 
 death as they came the day before, and could not resist the 
 desire to pay this last tribute of respect to his memory. 
 
 " The same simultaneous feeling filled the old church of 
 Grasmere with unbidden but most sure mourners. When Mrs. 
 Wordsworth, supported by her two sons, followed the coffin 
 into the church, I should not have recognized her figure, it was 
 so bowed down with grief ; but she bore it calmly, and I stood 
 opposite to her when she bent over the grave. When she was 
 seated in the carriage on leaving the churchyard, Mr. Quilli- 
 nan told us they feared she would have fahited. She did not, 
 however, and after she returned home she resumed such firm- 
 ness and composure that she joined them at tea, and made it 
 for them. 
 
 ' ' Every Grasmere face you know of the upper grade was at 
 the funeral, but I was sorry not to see any of the peasantry, 
 he was so peculiarly the poor man's friend. James Fleming 
 was there, and the Greens. I had intended to go on that day 
 to Lancrigg, but really, after the solemn scene in Grasmere 
 
 1 Present Bishop of Sydne;% and his wife. Mrs. Barker ■\Trites to the 
 editor, after reading the Autobiography in 1875 : — 
 
 "I must give j'ou a little characteristic reminiscence of dear Mrs. Fletcher, 
 which has occurred to me. I think we were all at a picnic on the island of 
 Windermere — I do not remember if you were there or not, — but we were 
 about to proceed to luncheon, when a boat was seen approaching, in which 
 were a lady and gentleman. My dear brother Allan exclaimed, ' Oh, look 
 at these people ! What a bore it is, their coming here now 1 ' But Mrs. 
 Fletcher said in reply, 'My dear sir, I never yet saw the person to whom I 
 could apply that epithet,' and immediately went to the boat, and in her 
 gracious way invited the couple to partake of the repast. They gratefully 
 accepted, and proved to be an acquisition." 
 
284 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 
 
 churchyard, I could not give my mind to household cares and 
 troubles, so we returned straight to Lesketh How and passed 
 the evening quietly. I slept little that night, and in the 
 morning I put into measured lines the thoughts that had kept 
 me waking, which one of the girls is to copy for you."] 
 
 THOUGHTS ON LEAVING GRASMERE CHURCHYARD, APRIL 27, 1850, 
 AFTER THE FUNERAL OF WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. 
 
 We saw him laid within the quiet grave, 
 Near to the yew he planted. 'Twas a day 
 Of most rare brightness, and the little birds 
 Sang no sad requiem o'er the hallowed spot: 
 'Twas as they welcomed him to his last home. 
 All Nature glowed instinct with tender love 
 For him, her fervent worshipper, no more 
 To chant her praises 'mid her mountain wilds, 
 Her streams and valleys, " vocal through his song." 
 There lives not one whose pilgrimage on earth 
 Has been more blest, by God's especial grace. 
 In stirring Heaven-ward thoughts in fellow-men. 
 His was no narrow creed; he loved mankind 
 Because God's law is love; and many hearts 
 In loneliness and grief have felt his power 
 Work like a charm within them, lifting high 
 Their thoughts from earthlj^ aims and sordid cares 
 To life's great purpose for the world to come. 
 Sweet was the privilege of those who shared 
 His daily converse, marked his blameless course, 
 And learned the true philosophy of life 
 Under his teaching, simple, but sublime. 
 Peace to his honored memory; peace to those 
 Who cherish fervently within their souls 
 The beautiful reaUties he taught. 
 
 \_Letter from J. BailUe. 
 
 "My dear Mhs. Fletcher, — Your Thoughts on Leaving 
 Grasmere Churchyard are so touching and so just that I cannot 
 delay one moment expressing my sympathy. They do indeed 
 
ON THE CASE OF SOMERSET THE SLAVE. 285 
 
 express the peculiar worth, simplicity, and wisdom of the man, 
 and nobody will pass through that place of graves without 
 feeling it deeply. William Wordsworth taught much in his 
 own peculiar way, and we were not quite aware how much and 
 how effectually he taught till his noble lesson was nearly draw- 
 ing to a close. 
 
 " Many thanks to you for sending us a copy of these lines, and 
 for letting us know how his excellent wife, Mrs. Wordsworth, 
 bears up under her severe affliction. She was a mate worthy 
 of him or any man, and his sister too, such a devoted, noble 
 being as scarcely any other man ever possessed. . . . 
 
 " To have a grandson and his son returning from India on a 
 three years' furlough is indeed an uncommon event. May this 
 great-grandchild arrive in safety and be a blessing to you all ! 
 The boy will think his great-gran dda me a young beauty if you 
 look as well on his arrival as when I saw you last. . . . 
 
 " The air is mild and deUghtful on our hill, and we breathe it 
 with thankfulness, though in the course of nature we cannot 
 expect, and should not desire, to breathe it long. 
 
 "With all kind wishes^te yourself and your distinguished 
 family, I remain, my dear Mrs. Fletcher, affectionately yours, 
 
 " J. Baillie. 
 " Hampstead, Tuesday Morning, Junellth, [1850]." 
 
 The following letter, addressed to Harriet Martineau, on the 
 subject of Somerset, the Negro boy, was written about this 
 period, and was, I believe, inserted at Miss Martineau's desire, 
 in some Anti-slavery periodical either here or in America : — 
 
 Mrs. Fletcher to Harriet Martineau. 
 
 " Lancrtgg, 1850. 
 "Dear Miss Martineau, — It has been said that the 
 noblest act of the British Parliament was that which gave 
 twenty miUions of British gold to purchase the freedom of 
 eighty thousand slaves in the British colonies. I think it 
 was a still nobler act of national justice and humanity when 
 in the case of Somerset, in May, 1772, it was decided by the 
 verdict of a London jury that the moment a slave set foot on 
 English ground he was free! 
 
286 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 " In the summer of 1807, when I resided with my family 
 in Noithumberhmd, I had the good fortune to meet with an 
 intelligent old lady, Mrs. Judith Sharp, the sister of Granville 
 Sharp. She gave me many interesting anecdotes of her 
 brother. Though descended from an old family in the county 
 of Northumberland, Mr. Sharp was himself a shopkeeper in 
 Cheapside. In one of his early morning walks in the suburbs 
 of London, he met a poor negro boy; and observing that his 
 head was bound with a bloody handkerchief, he asked what 
 accident had befallen him. The boy simply said, ' It was 
 Massa did it.' On questioning him further, Mr. Sharp 
 learned that the poor slave had been sent as a present from a 
 slaveholder in Jamaica to his brother, a merchant in London, 
 and that this London slaveholder had, in a moment of brutal 
 anger, struck the boy a desperate blow on the head with some 
 sharp instrument. The boy ran away, and had been some 
 days begging in the streets, having no one to protect or take 
 care of him. Mr. Sharp took him to the nearest hospital, had 
 his wounds examined and dressed, left him under medical care 
 for some days, and when all danger from the wounds was 
 over, he took him to his own home, and bade him remain in 
 his service, at the same time acquainting his former master 
 where he was to be found The ruffian claimed him as his 
 property. This was exactly what Mr. Sharp wished. He 
 defended the negro's right to freedom before a jury in 
 Westminster Hall ; and Lord Mansfield had the honor to 
 record there the immortal verdict which became from that 
 day the law of England. Not many days after that great 
 event was known throughout all London, Mrs. Judith Sharp 
 told me a lady M'as sitting in her balcony overlooking the 
 Thames between London Bridge and the West India Docks; 
 she saw a small vessel hurrying towards these docks, and 
 heard a piercing cry, and the name of ' Granville Sharp ! 
 Granville Sharp!' loudly shrieked as the vessel passed rapidly 
 below her balcony. It instantly struck her — 'This must be 
 a kidmipped negro ; ' and, without a moment's delay, this 
 energetic woman went sti*aight to the Lord Mayor, made an 
 affidavit of what she had seen and heard, and obtained a 
 warrant to seai'ch every vessel in the AVest India Docks for 
 
FAMILY GATHERING AT LANCRIGG. 287 
 
 him who had cried so loudly on Granville Sharp for mercy. 
 After some hours' search, a young negro was found concealed 
 under an empty hogshead, his hands and feet tied together, and 
 his mouth bandaged. This victim of avarice and cruelty was 
 instantly liberated by that glorious verdict of a London jury. 
 
 " Oh that America would learn this lesson before it is too 
 late to avert a servile war — that she would learn to ' be just 
 and fear not.' Had George Washington lived in our days, his 
 magnanimous spirit would have taken the side of Negro Eman- 
 cipation as fearlessly as he did that of American Independence. 
 He did not live up to that period of social progress which some 
 of the enlightened Ameiicans of the Northern States have now 
 reached. In his day, the mother country, who boasted herself 
 free, was not ashamed to carry on the slave-trade, and to curse 
 her possessions in the Southern States- of America by leaving 
 them the legacy of that most foul and impious traffic. But 
 a greater than Washington will yet arise in America, a man 
 capable of making a great personal sacrifice of property in 
 human beings, one that will not only plead the Negroes' cause 
 in Congress, but will risk-'all personal consequences, and will 
 hold but the right hand of fellowship to such a noble effort 
 of humanity and justice. Such a day, I trust, is not far dis- 
 tant in America, when Mrs. Chapman, you, and many others, 
 who have labored in this most righteous cause, will find their 
 reward in its accomplishment. — I am, dear Miss Martineau, 
 truly and respectfully yours, 
 
 "Eliza Fletcher."] 
 
 I remained with my friends at Lesketh How till the 
 4th of May, 1850, on which day Margaret came with me 
 to Lancrigg and remained with me some days, leaving 
 Grace and Sissy alternately to be my companions before 
 Mary and Sir John, Josephine, and little Edward, arrived. 
 It was a happy arrival ; Mary's cheerful countenance 
 denoted a heart at ease, and Sir John and Josephine 
 expressed cordial admiration of Lancrigg. Mary and he 
 employed themselves actively in thinning the shrubberies 
 a few days after they came. Josephine and Eddy explored 
 
288 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 their favorite copses, and Lancrigg was a scene of much 
 enjoyment to us all. When, after three weeks, Sir John's 
 leave of absence expired, he returned to Haslar with 
 Josephine, and Mary and I had some weeks of tete-a-tete. 
 
 [A large family gathering assembled at Lancrigg during the 
 summer of 1850. The party from India arrived there on the 
 llth August, her eldest gi'andson George Fletcher, his wife 
 and child. It was then our mother first saw her little great- 
 grandson Miles Angus. She says of him at tlie time, " Dear 
 little Miles is the handsomest and most sweet-tempered and 
 engaging child of his age I have ever seen." After we returned 
 to Haslar our mother had a pleasant little visit from Alfred 
 Tennyson, who spent that summer with his wife at Tent Lodge, 
 Coniston. His visit was much appreciated by all at Lancrigg. 
 
 From Mrs. Fletcher to her daughter Mary. 
 
 " October 16tl), 1850. 
 
 "We were so fortunate as to meet our little postman Dove 
 at the Town End yesterday, on our way to Coniston, and got 
 from him your delightful packet. Pray give Sir John my best 
 thanks for his sbai"e of it. Mr. James Marshall read it aloud 
 to the pleasant coterie round the fireside at his own house. Lord 
 Monteagle being an earnest listener, as well as Aubrey de Vere. 
 The party at the Ma.rshalls' were. Lord and Lady Monteagle, 
 Lady de Vere and her agreeable son Aubrey, with whose travels 
 in Greece we have lately been much delighted. 
 
 " Lord Monteagle is very animated and pleasant, and has 
 much Irish humor. He spoke with enthusiasm of the won- 
 derful energy of JNIrs. Chisholm, through whose individual 
 exertions no less than 15,000 emigrants, chiefly Irish, 
 have been sent to Australia, and once when she was accom- 
 panying about 1,500 Irish emigrants through a narrow defile, 
 up the country, she was told there was a fight begun between 
 the Connaughtmen and the Tipperary boys, and that they 
 blocked up the way, on which she speedily rode onward and 
 told them they should not fight there, but if they 7nust fight, 
 they should climb the mountain and descend into the plain 
 
LETTER FROM LORD COCKBURN. 289 
 
 below and fight out their battle, as they would have room 
 enough without obstructing their neighbors. They were 
 heartily ashamed of themselves, and cheered their commander 
 with a hearty cheer. 
 
 " We were very sorry to find Mr. and Mrs. Tennyson had 
 left Tent Lodge on Monday, as I hoped to see them again. I 
 like to hear her talk of your husband, which she does con 
 amove. 
 
 "I like 'In Memoriam ' better the more I read it, but I 
 want you beside me very much when I do." 
 
 From Lord Cockburn to Mrs. Fletcher. 
 
 "Edinburgh, November, 1850. 
 
 "My deak Mrs. Fletcher, — I am very sensible of your 
 kindness ; I am not just so strong as I was, but am getting 
 rapidly better. The Life is, so far as scheming and preparing 
 are concerned, advancing, but nothing has yet been done in 
 the way of actual writing, or indeed could have been done, 
 but I do hope to finish some^ Memoir of Jeffrey and his times 
 which may not be unworthy of either. 
 
 " The Scotch bull is expected to be roaring in a few days. 
 Our Calvinistic souls are to be put under the charge of seven 
 Bishops. Sawney will make a terrible uproar, because 
 Bishops, no matter of what sort, are hereditarily odious to 
 him. It was they who squeezed his thumbs and his legs a 
 few years ago. Whatever the law or the policy may be, it is 
 an unfortunate occurrence. It will revive sectarian hatreds 
 and increase the difficulties of general education. But on these 
 matters the human mind has not advanced one inch during 
 the last five hundred years, and considering the nature of that 
 mind it may be doubted if it will advance one inch in the 
 next five hundred years. — Yours very faithfully, 
 
 " H. Cockburn."] 
 
 Lesketh How, 1st January, 1851. — How many mercies 
 
 have I experienced since last. New Year's Day ! Oh that 
 
 I were sufficiently thankful for God's loving-kindness 
 
 towards me in all His dispensations ! I will not say the 
 
 13 s 
 
290 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 last year has been without its trials, troubles, and disap- 
 pointments, for who can expect to escape from them ? 
 
 8th March, 1851. — It will be a fortnight to-morrow 
 since Mrs. Joanna Baillie died, at the age of eighty-nine. 
 It is just fifty years this summer since Miss Millar intro- 
 duced me to the pleasure and privilege of her acquaintance. 
 She was truly a woman of genius, original in her conceptions, 
 full of brilliant imagination, elevation of mind, and turn for 
 humor. Her taste was simple, and her affections strong 
 and tender, with most unaffected and unpretending manners. 
 She was much sought by the literary, the fashionable, and 
 the learned world, and could count on her list of friends all 
 the distinguished writers of the age in which she lived, yet 
 she was perfectly unspoiled by the homage paid her, and 
 loved her old friends with unchangeable affection. She 
 died peacefully after a few hours' illness — Sunday the 23d 
 of February. It is a satisfaction to me that Angus, being 
 in Jjondon at the time, was allowed by her nephew, William 
 Baillie, to take a cast from her face after death, so that the 
 lineaments of her fine countenance may be preserved in 
 marble. Angus has been superintending another work 
 of art, a medallion of Wordsworth, to be executed by 
 Mr. Woolner, and placed in Grasmere Church ; thus he 
 has the privilege of assisting to perpetuate the memory of 
 two great poets. 
 
 Lancrigg, 25th August, 1851. — Some old friends have 
 taken us on their way to the Crystal Palace. Among 
 these were INIr. and Mrs. John Mylne and their two nice 
 little girls. Mrs. Mylne read me a review she had written 
 some years ago on the subject of female education. It is 
 remarkably able, and I know few women who could have 
 written it. Then we had the pleasure of Mrs. Stirling's 
 delightful society for two or three days. There is a fresh- 
 ness and animation, an originality and gentle-heartedness^ 
 
LAST EDINBURGH VISIT. 291 
 
 about her that is most engaging. Our next beloved guest 
 was dear Catherine Hughes, who, I verily believe, loves me 
 like a daughter, and I feel her as such, more than any one 
 out of my own family. 
 
 On the 13th of September, 1851, Mrs. Taylor, her daughter, 
 and I, set off on our Scottish expedition. To see my ven- 
 erable friend Miss Millar once more in her own house, was 
 one of the principal objects of my journey, and to attend 
 Henry Fletcher's wedding was another. After I left Mil- 
 heugh on the 19th, I reached Doune, where, at Old Newton, 
 kind good Miss MacNab had provided every thing for our 
 comfort. The profound quietness, the pure dry air, and lovely 
 scenery, have agreed with me so well that I feel much better 
 than when I set out. 
 
 On the 1st of October we paid a most agreeable visit to 
 our friends, the Miss Spiers', at Laurel Hill. There we 
 found six amiable sisters living in the most perfect domestic 
 harmony, and occupied in ^ioing good. 
 
 On the 6th of October we left Old Newton, and reached 
 Edinburgh, where, after gliding swiftly under the Castle 
 rock and through the Mound, we found Henry Fletcher 
 and Charlotte Monro waiting for us. Mrs. Taylor had 
 parted from us at Dumblane, preferring a lonely sketch- 
 ing tour in the Highlands to our wedding festivities. I 
 was affectionately received at 35 Heriot Row, and saved 
 from fatigue by the watchful kindness of our friends 
 there. 
 
 On Saturday I went with Angus to pay visits, not to 
 the living, but to the family burial-place on the Calton 
 Hill, where so many dear to us were laid at rest, and from 
 thence to see the spot where our little darlings, Humphry 
 and John Miles Davy, were laid in one grave. On 
 Sunday evening Mrs. Stirling went with me to see the 
 grave of Jeffrey. Nobody entered so entirely into my 
 
292 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Italian sympathies as Mrs. Stirling. She is delightfully 
 agreeable. 
 
 On Tuesday came the marriage. Dr. Alison kindly 
 sent his carriage to take me to St. John's. There was a 
 large party of Charlotte Monro's family and friends. 
 Henry had only his old grandmother in her white silk bon- 
 net, his uncle Angus, brother George, and cousin Mary. 
 The much-beloved Dean Ramsay, long the friend and 
 pastor of the bride, officiated on this happy occasion. 
 The bride was becomingly dressed, and looked well ; dear 
 Henry very interesting in the calm happiness of his 
 deportment. 
 
 My farewell visit to Edinbui-gh was not blemished by 
 one dark spot or painful recollection. I had seen many 
 valued friends for the last time ; all very, very kind, some 
 very affectionate. I had the happiness to see Mrs. Burge 
 and her incomparable niece, once more in tbeir former 
 happy home, and of infinite value to Dr. Alison. 
 
 I stayed a few days to rest at Lesketh, and on the 
 8th of November set off with Mrs. Davy en route for 
 Haslar. Most kindly received at Headingley Parsonage ; 
 stayed there all Sunday, and reached Mr. and Mrs. "W. 
 E. Forster's, near Bradford, by four o'clock ; admired 
 the views from Rawdon, but still more the domestic peace 
 and happiness that prevail in that happy home. Next 
 day we went to Manchester, dined with ovir delightful 
 friend Mrs. Gaskell, with whom Margaret, Angus, and I 
 took up our quarters ; and we went to a great Hungarian 
 meeting that same day at five o'clock ; it was held in the 
 Free Trade Hall, and there were seven thousand persons 
 present. Kossuth, the great Hungarian patriot, was hailed 
 by universal acclamation. After a speech from the chair- 
 man, and a much better one from Mr. Bright, Kossuth 
 rose, and with extraordinary eloquence, notwithstanding 
 
KOSSUTH.-MRS. GASKELL.-THOMAS WRIGHT. 293 
 
 his foreign accent and idiom, he delighted the audience 
 with a clear straightforward statement of the wrongs that 
 Hungary has endured from the House of Hapsburg, and of 
 its determmation to shake off the yoke, if England and 
 America, by peaceful intervention, would stop the encroach- 
 ments of Russian and Austrian despotism. Kossuth's ap- 
 pearance is very interesting; he is not above the middle 
 size, . slender in person, but dignified in deportment, his 
 countenance highly intellectual, the expression mild and 
 firm, that of a man of genius. I sat there five hours, but 
 when his speech was finished we left the meeting, and it 
 seemed that my extreme old age served me in place of rank, 
 so little was I annoyed by any pressure of the crowd, who 
 considerately made way for me. It was delightful to 
 witness the interest the masses in this great town of 
 Manchester took, in the foreign politics of this great man, 
 and it is only under the government of so much beloved 
 a Sovereign as Queen Victoria, with a Liberal Cabinet and 
 a reformed House of Commons, that such a meeting could 
 be held with perfect safety, though Kossuth did not utter 
 a sentiment to which a constitutional Englishman might 
 not respond with perfect loyalty. In the days of George 
 the Fourth, when great discontent with the Government 
 and disaffection to the personal character of the Sovereign 
 prevailed, it would scarcely have been safe. 
 
 At Mrs. Gaskell's we had the great pleasure next day 
 at breakfast of meeting Thomas Wright, a philanthropist of 
 no ordinary cast of mind, profoundly pious and humble- 
 minded, with the most energetic devotion to the principle 
 of doing good. He devotes every hour he can spare from 
 his employment, that of overseer of an iron-foundry, to 
 visiting the prison, and doing all he can to reclaim convicts 
 from their evil ways. He has been the means, under God's 
 grace, of reclaiming more than four hundi-ed, and is so self- 
 
294 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 denied that he seldom allows himself more than four hours 
 out of the twenty-four for sleep. He is a hale man at 
 sixty-six years of age. 
 
 On arriving in London I had the happiness to meet Mary 
 from Haslar, and we had both the very great pleasure of 
 finding Gracilla Boddington in the same hotel. She came 
 to us the next morning when Mazzini was with us, and was 
 much struck, as I had been formerly, with the likeness of 
 his countenance to the St. Francis of Guido. 
 
 [^From 31. B.'s Note-hook. 
 
 November IQth, 1851. 
 
 I had not seen Mazzini for several years until yesterday, 
 and was never more struck with the increase of happiness 
 resulting from having proved himself a man of action as well 
 as a man of thought. The melancholy grace, the sickness 
 of the heart, the indescribable look of suffering for others 
 which had struck me so much six years ago, had disappeared, 
 and he is now a man full of experience, patience, and hope, 
 one fitted to inspire that confidence which he himself feels, 
 and infuse life and hope into his country. The treachery of 
 France to the cause of the people has unfortunately thrown 
 him more than he himself desires into association with the 
 party of Ledru Rollin, of whose character he has no high 
 opinion, un grand gamin, easily led to good or evil by the 
 impulse of the moment. He did not deny the position ad- 
 vanced by Dr. Boott, that a popular movement in France 
 was likely to lead to the most frightful excesses, that the 
 feelings of the employed against their employers were most 
 ferocious and bloody ; but it is evident that he feels and 
 knows that things cannot go on in France as they are now 
 doing, and he said, "We a little trust in Providence that 
 more good will come out of the evil than we can at present 
 perceive. There is indeed no one man in France to meet 
 its wants, but I hope some man will appear to appeal to what 
 is good, and save her from what we all so much dread." He 
 mentioned two men in whom he had some hope. One was 
 
MAZZINI.- FOREIGN POLITICS. 295 
 
 Carnot. He knew all the leaders of the Republican party, but 
 had no confidence in any one but Ledru RoUin with regard to 
 Italy. In speaking of him, Mazzini mentioned various little 
 traits which we should call very French, when one considers 
 the amount of suffering that must follow even the best revolu- 
 tion. Mazzini said, Ledru Rollin and he were each smoking 
 cigars, with a little dog on the sofa between them ; it showed 
 signs of discomfort. " Poor little dog," said Ledru Rollin, " it 
 suffers, let us put away our cigars." He said he was doing all 
 he could to impress the Frenchman with his own views : " He 
 is a Frenchman, and I always feel it, but he is the only hope 
 for Italy out of itself. I do not want the help of FrancCj I 
 only want them to let us alone, and that cannot be accomplished 
 till the troops are withdrawn by a power friendly to us, as a 
 defeat would never be forgiven by the French." 
 
 Mazzini has no expectation of the day of Cavaignac or 
 Lamartine coming round again. The first, he said, justly lost 
 his influence by his unnecessary slaughter of the populace in 
 the insurrection of May, 18J-8. He might have quelled it at 
 once, but he allowed it ttf'go a certain length, to do the thing 
 with greater military effect. This they never can forgive. 
 Mazzini gave a shrug of decided hopelessness when Lamartine 
 was mentioned, but he did not deal at all in personal invective 
 even against the President. His mind seems too full of hope 
 about Italy to admit of gloomy ideas about other countries, 
 and one ought to place one's self in the Italian, not the French 
 position, when one talks with him. The dungeons of Naples 
 make as strong a case for the necessity of a change with all 
 its attendant horrors as Dr. Boott's Lyons anecdote was felt 
 by him to be a convincing argument for lea^-ing things as they 
 are. Mazzini said Mr. Gladstone's letters had been of much 
 use in this country in rousing the attention of the humane to 
 the real state of things, and he considers Italy already ripe for 
 a change, and spoke, half seriously, half in playfulness, of 
 hoisting his flag on the Quirinal this time next year, and of 
 his hope of seeing my mother there. When Dr. Boott spoke 
 of his power of attaching others to himself, he said, "It is 
 because I ti-ust them. They had been so long told they were 
 a poor, wretched people, fit only to be slaves, that they began 
 
296 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 to believe it, but I gave them a new life by telling them they 
 were men and brothers." He said a remarkable proof had 
 been given of the attachment of the Roman shopkeepers to 
 him when a great friend of his went there. She could not 
 get any accounts sent to her. He spoke of Kossuth with 
 much interest, said that they had long interviews with each 
 other in London, four or five hours at a time, and that they 
 understood each other completely. He rejoiced in the demon- 
 strations then going on as a new feature in the English life, 
 one which was much required. It is impossible to convey by 
 notes an impression of Mazzini's conversation, so much of his 
 eloquence depends on his look, his attitude, what he says and 
 what he does not say, for a great man in full possession of a 
 great subject is often to be quite as much admired for what he 
 does not say as for what he does, and this one feels very much 
 with Mazzini ; rancor and distrust and anger, even against 
 evil, seem 4;o be extinguished in him.] 
 
 On the 15th of November, 1851, Mary and I reached 
 Haslar, and I have passed two months of great quietness 
 and tranquillity, in the enjoyment of excellent health, re- 
 ceiving the most constant kindness and minute attention 
 to my comfort from dearest Mary and her excellent hus- 
 band, while Josephine is always my ready and kind 
 amanuensis. 
 
 January, 1852. — About thirty friends and neighbors 
 were invited to celebrate my eighty-second birthday, on 
 the 15th of this month. Sir John, assisted by Sir Edward 
 Parry, put forth his strength in enacting charades ; they 
 had been experienced in this innocent amusement, having, 
 during the long nights of an Arctic winter, often resorted 
 to masquerades and pantomimic exhibitions to divert and 
 cheer the ship's company in their dark and dismal abode 
 amid regions of " thick-i ibbed ice." Music and singing 
 intervened between the acts, and after supper Sir Edward 
 Parry prefaced his toast to my health by a very affecting 
 
LETTER TO MRS. DAVY. 297 
 
 allusion to the many mercies that had been spared to me 
 in my long pilgrimage — such a speech as filled my eyes 
 with tears and my heart with thankfulness. 
 
 [ To Mrs. Arnold, from Mrs. Fletcher. 
 
 " Haslar Hospital, January, 1852. 
 
 "If it pleases God to spare you to complete your eighty- 
 second year, as I have done, you will be surprised, as well as 
 deeply thankful, that you have not been made to feel you have 
 lived too long. 
 
 " Dear Margaret told me joyfully you had consented to be 
 one of her birthday guests on the loth, and your own dear 
 letter of kind congratulations is tied up apart with those of my 
 children and grandchildren ; for you know you became one of 
 my children from the time you adopted me as a mother in my 
 short solitude at Bilton in 1829, and you have never since 
 disappointed the claim that adoption gave you to my love and 
 gratitude. ... 
 
 " I dare not trust myself Jio-speak of France, that self-destroyed 
 country. I lost all sympathy with them when they allowed a 
 government chosen by universal suffrage to send an army for 
 the subjugation of Italy. That was an act of unmitigated op- 
 pression and injustice. The submission to the coup-iT ilai is an 
 act of national suicide, an utter extinction of all that can ele- 
 vate or uphold the dignity or worth of man in his political 
 relations. I never was so hopeless of Continental affairs ; bat I 
 still trust that British statesmen will take warning, and, by 
 timely extension of safe measures of reform in Parliament, 
 ward off revolutionary dangers. I still put faith in Lord John's 
 honesty of purpose and courage." 
 
 To Mrs. Davy from Mrs. Fletcher. 
 
 " Haslar, llh January, 1852. 
 
 "You will receive this on your fifty-fourth birthday. A 
 
 bleSsed day it was to me, and has been till this time. I well 
 
 remember dear aunty bringing you to me when you were first 
 
 washed and dressed, saying, * I have brought you a dark-eyed 
 
 13* 
 
298 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 daughter,' and you opened your large dark eyes, the first that 
 had been seen in our flock, and aunty pronounced you like my 
 mother, from your eyes, and then you first nestled in my 
 bosom, my little dark-eyed daughter. It was a day of 
 thankfulness to God, and such you have made it ever since. 
 May He contmue to preserve and bless you for ever and 
 ever ! 
 
 "We have finished the first volume of Southey's Life and 
 Letters. We like his autobiography, but were disappointed in 
 his letters. Oh how inferior to Cowper's letters! There is a 
 want of the playfulness of youth, and so poetical a mind as 
 his should have betrayed itself in the open confidence of friend- 
 ship. He was so ' pure in heart ' he had nothing to conceal, 
 but he does not seem to have any thing to tell but what is 
 passing through his mind in preparation for the press. He 
 overtasked himself as a literary drudge, and in his case above 
 all others you see how unfortunate it was he had no other 
 profession, and made poetry his working machine rather than 
 his delightful recreation. I think some of his political enthu- 
 siasm must have been suppressed. It is impossible, feeling so 
 strongly as he did the public interests that occupied minds 
 much less fervid and elevated than his, that he should not 
 have written more eloquently on these subjects to his bosom 
 friends than appears in these letters. I think the prudence 
 and perhaps the prejudices of his biographer has induced him 
 to suppress the political ebullitions of his mind from 1793 to 
 1800." 
 
 To Mrs. Davy. 
 
 " Haslae, January 17th, 1852. 
 
 "... I have so much to thank you and my dear oes ' for, 
 in these packets I received on my birthday, that I know not 
 what to say, except that I received them all with a grateful 
 and thankful heart ; grateful for all your kindness, and thank- 
 ful that God in sparing me to such a great old age had been 
 merciful in giving me so many affectionate children and grand- 
 children, and had extended to me the capacity of enjoying the 
 1 Oes, the Scotch name for grandchildren. 
 
LETTER TO MRS. DAVY. 299 
 
 many proofs of love and tenderness I am continually receiving 
 from them." 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 " Haslae, February^ 1852. 
 
 " Yesterday, the day being mild, Josephine and I went to 
 visit Titchfield Castle, the birthplace of the daughter of ' the 
 virtuous Southampton,' Lady Rachel Russell. I sat with the 
 gamekeeper of the Delme family, an old man of eighty-one, 
 who has been forty-six years in the family of the present 
 owner, Squire Delrae, while Josephine walked about. He 
 was garrulous about the greatness of the Delmes, but when 
 I asked him if he had ever heard of Lady Rachel Russell, he 
 said, ' No ; you see, madam, I don't know Latin, but I have 
 been gamekeeper to the Delmes for near fifty years.' 
 
 " He showed us a very accurate model of the ancient castle, 
 two feet long, and told us it was made out of the corks that 
 were drawn from Squire Delme's cellars by that gentleman's 
 butler, and added with a sigh, ' Oh, they were grand cellars ! I 
 knew them well.' He showed us an oak-tree four hundred years 
 old ; saying that painters often came to paint it. We did not 
 get home till four o'clock, when Mary had something warm 
 ready for me, and I went to lie down till six, and was ready to 
 appear at a dinner of doctors. I heard of another castle to go 
 and see, Porchester, a Roman castle said to have been con- 
 structed by Julius Caesar at- the time of his invasion. 
 
 " To Porchester theu we must go, must go." 
 
 In addition to the castle-hunting described in these letters 
 during this last winter my mother spent at Haslar, we took a 
 day at Winchester and visited the shrine of Jane Austen, with 
 even more interest than that of VViUiam of Wickham. We 
 talked over the happy days of reading aloud the delightful 
 novels of Jane Austen, when the author was as little known as 
 that of Waverley, and when some of our party gave our 'mother 
 the name of Miss Bates, from the favorable view she took of 
 all the human race and the events of the world.] 
 
 The month of March was passed very agreeably at 
 
300 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Haslar, Mary and I taking daily drives from twelve till two, 
 never being twice prevented by cold weather. We saw 
 many lambs this month playing in the fields ; took a cold 
 dinner with us one day to Shidfield ; it was a bright day, 
 and we enjoyed it much. 
 
 On the 19th of April Mary and I bade adieu to Haslar, 
 and arrived at a late dinner the same day at Peasemore, 
 travelling by railroad through a very interesting country, 
 new to u^ by Reading, Newbury, etc. "We found Henry 
 and his excellent wife in a beautiful cottage, the beau-ideal 
 of a curate's abode in its combination of simplicity and 
 elegance. I never saw a happier couple ; the absence of 
 vanity and the cultivation of cheerful contentment are the 
 human elements of this happiness, along with the confi- 
 dence, esteem, and affection that subsist between them. 
 This visit was a real happiness to me, as it afforded a 
 confirmation of my good opinion of, and regard for, both 
 parties. 
 
 vSir John Richardson joined us at Lancrigg in May, 1852, 
 and employed himself for several hours of every day in 
 directing a laborer to make walks through the south copse, 
 an extension of our rambles I had long wished for, but 
 never could have accomplished it so successfully without 
 his good taste and active engineering. Another field of 
 his judicious improvements was in the high terrace, com- 
 manding the most beautiful view of Easedale, till, at the 
 end of nine dry weeks, came deluges of rain, and all out- 
 door work was interrupted. 
 
 On the 12th of August Jane Fletcher and her two chil- 
 dren came, she looking delicate, but the children lively and 
 in good health. I never regretted impaired strength and 
 ability for exertion more than in not being able to play 
 more with these dear children. When Mary left me, Mrs. 
 Taylor's watchful attention to my health and comfort never 
 
VISIT FROM HENRY AND CHARLOTTE F. 301 
 
 ceased ; she scarcely ever left me for half an hour. The 
 extreme heat of the weather for some weeks affected my 
 sleep, but I thank God my many restless hours were with- 
 out pain or acute suffering ; and though I was less disposed 
 for the pleasures of conversation, I enjoyed the visits of 
 many friends this summer. On the 15th of September, 
 1852, James Wilson and his family came to Thorney How. 
 It is refreshing to meet an old friend with unchanged feel- 
 ings of respect and kindness on both sides. It was also a 
 happiness to us to receive a visit from Henry and Charlotte 
 Fletcher, and while they were with us we collected as many 
 friends and neighbors as we could to hear her sing. On one 
 of these days in September, Sir Edward and Lady Parry, 
 with five more of their i^arty, came to us from Keswick. It 
 was a very enjoyable day, and I had most kindly letters 
 from them both, proving that the pleasure it afforded was 
 reciprocal. 
 
 Christmas Day, 1852. — Two months have passed very 
 serenely and cheerfully ; I could not have had companions 
 more desirous of promoting my comfort and happiness than 
 Angus and Miss MacNab. She is a most agreeable inmate, 
 as well as an attached and faithful friend. 
 
 A short visit from George before his embarkation for India 
 has gladdened my heart, by his affectionate manners towards 
 me and all his relations. 
 
 I pray fervently to be more deeply sensible of all the 
 mercies I have experienced during the past year. Some- 
 times I have a painful feeling of being useless, and a mere 
 cumberer of the earth ; but I know this is an ungrateful and 
 unholy feeling, and I always combat it. It is not a meet 
 preparation for " the company of saints made perfect ; " it is 
 worldly and selfish. Lord, give me grace to resign myself 
 wholly to Thy will in thankfulness ! 
 
302 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 [^Lord Coclcburn to Mrs. Fletcher. 
 
 ♦' Edinburgh, 12lh March, 1852. 
 
 " A copy of Jeffrey's Life, which is to be published on Tues- 
 day, leaves this to-morrow morning addressed to you. 
 
 " There are some things not in it which you will miss ; but I 
 found it absolutely necessary to confine it to purely personal 
 matter, and there are some things in it which I hope you will 
 like. 
 
 "My object has solely been to unfold the character of our 
 late friend, and by doing so, to give the pubUc better reasons 
 for loving him than it had before. 
 
 "How little soever may be thought of the first volume, I 
 cannot doubt that the second, written entirely by Jeffrey, must 
 impart undivided delight. If there be better letters in the 
 English language, I have never seen them. 
 
 " I wish I had an hour's dialogue with you on the state of 
 the world. The general opinion in this Northern region, de- 
 ducting Radicals and Tories, is strongly against the new Reform 
 Bill, and seems to all good Whigs to introduce what is practi- 
 cally universal suffrage, and this they think a thing only to be 
 liked by County Tories and Town Radicals. 
 
 " A terrible retribution surely awaits, and sooner than they 
 think, the tyrants of the Continent. I, knowing the ever young 
 benevolence of your heart, talk of these things to you, because 
 I know they interest you. 
 
 " Farewell. Though absent, be assured of the respect and 
 affection in which you are held by all your Edinburgh friends, 
 by none more sincerely than by me. — Yours faithfully, 
 
 " H. COCKBURN." ] 
 
 ON THE TJNION AND COMPANIONSHIP BETWEEN WORDSWORTH AND 
 HIS SISTER, AFTER READING HER GRASMERE JOURNAL. 
 
 BY MRS. FLETCHER, AGED EIGHTY-TWO. 
 
 If in thine inmost soul there chance to dweU 
 Aught of the poetiy of human life. 
 Take thou this book, and with a humble heart 
 Follow these pilgrims in their joyous walk ; 
 
LINES ON WORDSWORTH AND HIS SISTER. 303 
 
 And mark their high commission, — not to domes 
 Of pomp Baronial, or gay Fashion's haunts, 
 "Whei-e worldlings gather, but to rural homes, 
 To cottages and hearths where kindness dwelt, 
 They bent their way ; and not a gentle breeze 
 Inhaled in all their wandei'ings, not a flower 
 Blooming by hedge-wayside, or mountain rill, 
 But lent its inspiration, scent, and sound. 
 Deepening the inward music of their hearts. 
 She touched the chord and he gave forth its tone ; 
 Without her, he had idly gazed and dreamed 
 In Fancifn region of celestial things ; 
 " But she by sympathy disclosed the might 
 That slumbered in his soul, and drew it thence, 
 In richest numbers of subduing power 
 To soften, harmonize, and soothe mankind ; 
 Nor less to elevate, and point the way 
 To Truth Divine, — not with polemic skill, 
 But sought from Nature and the human heart, 
 With sacred wisdom from the fount of God.] 
 
 June 9th, 1853. — Dear Catherine Hughes came to me 
 early in April, and remained till the 2d of May. She 
 was a most cheerful and aflfectionate companion, and helped 
 me greatly in shaping the little garden ; she also exerted 
 much energy and bodily labor, as well as good taste, in 
 ornamenting the avenue with primroses, daffodils, and 
 sundry wild-flowers. 
 
 My causes of thankfulness to Almighty God are more 
 numerous than words can tell, more in number than the 
 hairs of my head, more unceasing than the breath I draw. 
 Let my whole remaining life be one hymn of thankfulness, 
 till I am permitted to join in that blessed privilege in the 
 life everlasting. 
 
 January 2d, 1854. — I have entered upon another year, 
 the eighty-fourth of my pilgrimage. I am fully sensible of 
 all my un worthiness of the least of God's mercies, but the 
 
304 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 want of continual praise and thankfulness weighs upon me 
 most. A new cause of rejoicing occurred when, on the 
 2oth of November, I received a letter from the Lord Chan- 
 cellor (Lord Cranworth) telling me that on the urgent 
 request of Lord Brougham, he had appointed my grandson, 
 the Rev. Henry Fletcher, to the Rectory of North Stoke, 
 neay Bath. My first feeling and expression was — Now I 
 see why it has pleased God to prolong my life, that I might 
 live to see dear Henry in a position of independence and 
 usefulness. I was greatly pleased that Lord Brougham had 
 obtained this for Henry, expressly on the ground of the 
 strong claim given by his grandfather's labors in the 
 cause of reform. 
 
 I had likewise, about the same time, the comfort of 
 hearing that Archibald had, through the influence of the 
 Duke of Argyll, been appointed to the post of Lieutenant- 
 Ordinary of the Devonport dockyard, thus placing him on 
 full pay, and in a situation favorable to a married man 
 with a family. Here was another great cause of thank- 
 fulness. 
 
 [ To Mrs. Fletcher. 
 
 ON HER EIGHTY-FOUKTH BIRTHDAY, SUNDAY, JANUARY 15, 1854. 
 
 " Dear venerated Friend, with welcome true. 
 With trembling joy, we hail thy natal day, 
 Bright with a Sabbath's sanctiby, and pay 
 To Him, who bids another year renew 
 This festival beloved, thanks largely due : 
 For not in vain He grants thy lengthened stay, 
 For which we've fondly prayed, for which we pray. 
 Blessings still crown thee, and thy j^athway strew ! 
 Still through thine eye thy heart sends forth its beams 
 Of kindling love, more sacred hour by hour ; 
 Still from thy chastened zeal, thy mind's young power, 
 Thy steadfast faith, a holier virtue streams : 
 
LETTER TO MRS. ARNOLD. 305 
 
 Thus blessing, thus be blest, till thou art given 
 A birthday and a Sabbath both in heaven ! 
 
 "R. P. G." 
 
 Part of a letter to Mrs. Hughes. 
 
 "I don't suppose Dr. Davy thinks there are any alarming 
 synnptonis in my present case of influenza ; but, on the very 
 borders of eighty-four, I cannot help feeling that I am walking 
 through ' the valley of the shadow of death.' God be praised, 
 I can say with the Psalmist, ' I will fear no evil, for Thou art 
 with me, Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.' Humbly 
 trusting in the mercy of God through my Redeemer, I have 
 no fear of death except the mortal conflict ; but my gracious 
 God, whose goodness and mercy have followed me all the days 
 of my life, will support me in that awful hour. I will trust in 
 Him, whether I live or die, for ever and ever. I am going to 
 rise, and go down to the drawing-room to meet my friends from 
 Lesketh How. E_ jr_ 
 
 ^^ January, 1854." 
 
 Letter to Mrs. Arnold. 
 
 " Lanckioo, January, 1854. 
 
 "Yes, dearest Mrs. Arnold, I did rejoice with you in spirit, 
 for all the blessings that surrounded you on New Year's Day. 
 Long may you be the centre-'and bond of so much family con- 
 cord and affection. You well deserve to be so. 
 
 " I think I told you Angus had given me an animated descrip- 
 tion of the family party at Fox How, the day you kindly 
 allowed him to join it. 
 
 " I heard of you shivering (as you must have done) yesterday 
 by poor Mary Fisher's grave. I hope you have not suffered 
 by that act of sympathy with Mrs. Wordsworth and of respect 
 for the departed. I long for Dr. Davy to give you leave to 
 come some day in the warm carriage with Margaret. I lonf 
 to hear all you have to tell me of your dear ones. 
 
 "Mary writes to me cheerfully, full of hope that we shall 
 meet once more. God grant it may be so. She is at the 
 post of duty. Mine is to ' stand and wait,' supported by the 
 ' rod and staff,' the sure support of the aged pilgrim. 
 
304 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 want of continual praise and thankfulness weighs upon me 
 most. A new cause of rejoicing occurred when, on the 
 2oth of November, I received a letter from the Lord Chan- 
 cellor (Lord Cranworth) telling me that on the urgent 
 request of Lord Brougham, he had appointed my grandson, 
 the Rev. Henry Fletcher, to the Rectory of North Stoke, 
 neay Bath. My first feeling and expression was — Now I 
 see why it has pleased God to prolong my life, that I might 
 live to see dear Henry in a position of independence and 
 usefulness. I was greatly pleased that Lord Brougham had 
 obtained this for Henry, expressly on the ground of the 
 strong claim given by his grandfather's labors in the 
 cause of reform. 
 
 I had likewise, about the same time, the comfort of 
 hearing that Archibald had, through the influence of the 
 Duke of Argyll, been appointed to the post of Lieutenant- 
 Ordinary of the Devonport dockyard, thus placing him on 
 full pay, and in a situation favorable to a married man 
 with a family. Here was another great cause of thank- 
 fulness. 
 
 [ To Mrs. Fletcher. 
 
 ON HER EIGHTT-FOURTH BIRTHDAY, SUNDAY, JANUARY 15, 1854. 
 
 ** Dear venerated Friend, with welcome true. 
 With trembling joy, we hail thy natal day, 
 Bright with a Sabbath's sanctity, and pay 
 To Him, who bids another year renew 
 This festival beloved, thanks largely due : 
 For not in vain He grants thy lengthened stay, 
 For which we've fondly prayed, for which we pray. 
 Blessings still crown thee, and thy pathway strew ! 
 Still through thine eye thy heart sends forth its beams 
 Of kindling love, more sacred hour by hour ; 
 Still from thy chastened zeal, thy mind's young power, 
 Thy steadfast faith, a hoher virtue streams : 
 
LETTER TO MRS. ARNOLD. 305 
 
 Thus blessing, thus be blest, till thou art given 
 A birthday and a Sabbath both in heaven ! 
 
 "R. P. G." 
 
 Part of a letter to Mrs. Hughes. 
 
 "I don't suppose Dr. Davy thinks there are any alarming 
 symptoms in my present case of influenza ; but, on the very 
 borders of eighty-four, I cannot help feeling that I am walking 
 through ' the valley of the shadow of death.' God be praised, 
 I can say with the Psalmist, ' I will fear no evil, for Thou art 
 with me. Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.' Humbly 
 trusting in the mercy of God through my Redeemer, I have 
 no fear of death except the mortal conflict ; but my gracious 
 God, whose goodness and mercy have followed me all the days 
 of my life, will support me in that awful hour. I will trust in 
 Him, whether I live or die, for ever and ever. I am going to 
 rise, and go down to the drawing-room to meet my friends from 
 Lesketh How. E. F. 
 
 ^^ January, 1854." 
 
 Letter to Mrs. Arnold. 
 
 "Lancrtgo, January, 1854. 
 
 "Yes, dearest Mrs. Arnold, I did rejoice with you in spirit, 
 for all the blessings that surrounded you on New Year's Day. 
 Long may you be the centre-and bond of so much family con- 
 cord and affection. You well deserve to be so. 
 
 " I think I told you Angus had given me an animated descrip- 
 tion of the family party at Fox How, the day you kindly 
 allowed him to join it. 
 
 " I heard of you shivering (as you must have done) yesterday 
 by poor Mary Fisher's grave. I hope you have not suffered 
 by that act of sympathy with Mrs. Wordsworth and of respect 
 for the departed. I long for Dr. Davy to give you leave to 
 come some day in the warm carriage with Margaret. I long 
 to hear all you have to tell me of your dear ones. 
 
 "Mary writes to me cheerfully, full of hope that we shall 
 meet once more. God grant it may be so. She is at the 
 post of duty. Mine is to 'stand and wait,' supported by the 
 ' rod and staff,' the sure support of the aged pilgrim. 
 
306 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 " I had a restless, feverish night, but am better since morn- 
 ing. I can only add love, much love, to the children who are 
 ■with you, from your affectionate friend of five-and-tweuty years' 
 standing. Eliza Fletcher." 
 
 From Mazzini, after Ms Mother'' s death. 
 
 1853 or 1854. 
 " Dear Mrs. Fletcher, — It is very late that I acknowledge 
 your kind, affectionate note ; but I acknowledged it then with 
 a grateful heart. I could not write on the subject of your 
 letter, but every word that came to me from friends in that 
 hour of need did good to me, and is recorded in my soul 
 to be never forgotten. My mother's death has left a blank 
 in my life that nothing can fill. She was a warm patriot, 
 shared in my belief, praised my efforts ; and the dream of 
 my individual life w^as — that of meeting her once more on 
 this earth in the joy of triumph — to be able to tell her, 
 ' You see that we have not been living separate and lonely 
 for an illusion-' And this dream has vanished ; but if any- 
 thing can soothe such a grief, it is the soft expression of 
 true-felt sympathy for her and for myself, and of that I have 
 had more than I ever dreamt of deserving. My own native 
 town, and my second country, England, have become dearer 
 to me since then. Do not fear that I shall now think less 
 of my own life or embrace desperate schemes of insurrection. 
 I feel my mother as near me as before — more sacred than 
 before ; and I feel bound to avoid everything that she would 
 blame or mourn about ; but even if I had not that feeling 
 watching within me, I would never compromise in an impru- 
 dent attempt the progress of my country, and the life of the 
 numbers who would follow me, without calculating the chances 
 of success." 
 
 "Dear Mrs. Fletcher, — Your note to Miss C. and the 
 article of Mr. Greg would make me despair about my ever 
 being able to see England take a correct view of the Italian 
 question. What practical hopes can you derive from Pied- 
 mont enjoying pure constitutional liberty ? That the example 
 will act on the other Italian provinces? There is no need of 
 
LETTERS FROM MAZZINL 307 
 
 that. Italy is morally ripe, and the love of nationality is far 
 more powerful in Lombardy, in Rome, and elsewhere, than in 
 Piedmont ; or that the king of Piedmont will set himself one 
 day at the head of the Italian crusade? That is impossible. 
 No king ever will or can initiate a revolutionary movement, 
 exactly for the same reason which makes the ambition of 
 Louis Napoleon shrink from war as soon as its prosecution 
 becomes impossible without a land campaign which would 
 join the nationalities. The king of Piedmont cannot over- 
 throw the tyrant of Naples, much less the Pope. It is only 
 through a popular insurrection that such things can be done. 
 It is only through a national movement that the Italian nation 
 can be founded. Let us, then, continuously work towards 
 such a movement. It is my aim ; the task of my life and of 
 those who side by me. We do not agitate against Piedmont 
 or its king. We endeavor to rouse the nation. But to 
 rally, as you say, around the Piedmontese flag would amount 
 simply to accept inertness as a law, to condemn ourselves 
 to immobility, and to content ourselves with a fragment of 
 Italy ; we really cannot ; we want Italian unity ; the king 
 of Piedmont cannot give it to us ; we must try, therefore, 
 to conquer it ourselves. It is only after a popular national 
 movement that a path for the Sardinian king might open ; 
 it was only after the Lombard insurrection that Charles Albert 
 was enabled to march ; he never would have initiated the 
 struggle. That is the tru^-^osition of the question. Fifty 
 times we have said to all the sections of the Party, ' Adjourn 
 all discussions, and work towards the common aim ; if you 
 want the Sardinian monarchy to lead the crusade, let the 
 crusade be. You must act before, then claim the help of 
 monarchical Piedmont. ' The men who declare the nation will 
 spring from the Sardinian monarchy are tout honnement 
 renouncing all hopes and practical schemes. They have 
 broken the unity of the great national party ; they divert 
 the mind of our young people from the simple logical method 
 which they ought to pursue to hopes which prove deceptions. 
 Since 18f8, Piedmont has done nothing for the Italian cause. 
 There has not been a single step in advance ; there has only 
 been a dangerous duahty established when one single idea 
 
308 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 ■was fermenting. The national cause would have been better 
 felt and understood had the same level of oppression remained 
 upon all the Italian populations. English people cannot 
 understand this ; they believe that a question of nationality 
 is solved in the same way as a question of liberty; it is a 
 fundamental error. I have no party feeling, no personal 
 hope or aim, nothing that can overcloud or deviate my mind ; 
 I may, of course, be mistaken, but mine is a matter of deep 
 conviction, and it is impossible for me to modify or alter it. 
 Though sorry that I cannot on this point agree with you, I 
 am glad, my dear friend, that your note has afforded me an 
 opportunity of writing again to you, whom I love and revere 
 more than my silence would indicate. May God prolong your 
 life until the dawning of our national liberty appears I and 
 remember that you have here a grateful and sincere friend in 
 
 "Joseph Mazzini."] 
 
 In March, 1854, I spent a fortnight with dear Margaret 
 at her pleasant How. I continually blessed God to see 
 her walk in His ways, an example to her mother and to 
 all who observe her. Dr. Davy was most kindly attentive 
 to my health. I missed the cheerful faces of the gii'ls ; 
 but their amusing letters from Edinburgh, Archibald's 
 weekly reports of his studies and progress at Cambridge, 
 with my precious Mary's letters from Haslar, kept my 
 heart in wholesome exercise. My warm-hearted friend, 
 Catherine Hughes, returned with me to Lancrigg. We 
 can go back with mutual interest over her earliest days 
 to my excellent aunt Dawson's admirable and unselfish 
 character. She was very fond of Catherine. 
 
 Sunday, May 7, 1854. — Yesterday Mrs. Davy brought 
 Mrs. Wordsworth to dinner. It is always a pleasure to 
 see the placid old age of dear Mrs. Wordsworth. Hers 
 has been a life of duty, and is now an old age of repose, 
 while her affections are kept iu constant exercise by the 
 tender interest she takes in her grandchildren. 
 
LETTER TO MRS. HUGHES. 309 
 
 Mrs, Arnold has been called away to see her youngest 
 son before his embarkation for Australia. She is a most 
 tender mother and a most faithful friend ; hers is a char- 
 acter in which it is not easy to find a fault. How often 
 have I to repeat that most comprehensive prayer of the 
 Psalmist — " Create in me a clean heart, God, and renew 
 a right spirit within me," for I am too often " careful and 
 troubled about many things " that are of no importance, 
 while I fear I fail to "keep my heart with all diligence." 
 I am humbled with the consciousness of making small, if 
 any, spiritual progress, while I see my juniors suddenly 
 called to their eternal home. The unexpected death of 
 that truly great and good man, Lord Cockburn, has affected 
 me deeply. His was a righteous life, and " a righteous 
 God loveth righteousness." I am thankful he lived long 
 enough to raise an imperishable monument to the memory 
 of his friend Lord Jeffrey, in doing which his own great 
 talents and love of freedom and goodness are identified 
 with his subject. 
 
 \_To Mrs. Hughes. 
 
 " April 29th, 1854. 
 "It would require a muchx longer scroll than I am able to 
 fill, my dearest Catherine, to, tell you how much we miss you, 
 and how often we talk about you, of your animated social 
 qualities, of your alfectionate sympathy in all our thoughts 
 and feelings. We like to trace you in all our vmlks and 
 wanderings, and are sorry you did not stay long enough to see 
 your primrose bed in the avenue in all its glory, for really it 
 has come out much more gaily than you or I gave it credit 
 for. The peony has made little or no progress since you'left 
 us this day fortnight. Mary has had only one attack of head- 
 ache, and I one very bad night, but am now pretty well again, 
 as well as a sad heart will let me, for I received accounts of 
 the death of a dear old friend yesterday — Lord Cockburn. 
 Mr. Fletcher and I always honored and loved him for the 
 
310 A UTOBIO GRAPHY. 
 
 inflexible integrity of his character, and the warmth and benev- 
 olence of his heart. His death will be deeply and widely 
 mourned in Scotland. He has not left his equal behind him. 
 You know he laid me under everlasting obligation by his just 
 and discriminating sketch of Mr. Fletcher's character in his 
 admirable ' Life of Jeffrey. ' I have not slept since four this 
 morning, thinking over the many interesting traits of his char- 
 acter, and the noble stand he made against the insolence and 
 oppression of a corrupt faction fifty years ago. He died at 
 seventy-six, in the full possession of his vigorous faculties. I 
 am thankful to have dearest Mary with me when I received the 
 shock of this sudden intelligence. It is a solemn admonition. 
 He was seven years my junior. May God prepare me for the 
 awful summons, come when it may. I know I am not vmre- 
 membered in your prayers, dear child. — Your truly attached 
 and faithful friend, E. Fletcher."] 
 
 June 24th, 1854. — Nearly two months have glided away 
 since I have found time to make an entry in this Journal. 
 After two months of uninterrupted enjoyment during the 
 finest spring weather I ever remember in this country, see- 
 ing my dear Mary enjoying her garden and improve in health 
 and cheerfulness, after her anxiety about Edward all winter, 
 she was suddenly called away to attend Beatrice in scarlet- 
 fever, near London. Not called away by her kind and 
 most indulgent husband, for he was himself attending his 
 sick child, and did not wish Mary to shorten her stay at 
 Lancrigg, but her own sense of duty decided her to ex- 
 change the delights of her mountain home for Beatrice's 
 sick-chamber. She was right, and I did not dare to 
 say a word to detain her. She happily found the child 
 convalescent. 
 
 It is remarkable how trials come in the very direction 
 where they are most felt. If Sir John Richardson has an 
 inordinate affection, it is in his paternal relation. He has 
 always had not only a father's but a mother's love and 
 
MRS. EMPSON.-LORD JOHN RUSSELL. 311 
 
 care for his children, — a patient, watchful, tender, and un- 
 tiring love and forbearance that few, even kind, fathers have ; 
 and his faith and patience have been severely tried bj their 
 delicacy of health, and frequently by their alarming illness. 
 All this he has borne with uncomplaining resignation ; the 
 strength of his character is exemplified by his patient sub- 
 mission to the will of God. 
 
 I have been greatly delighted within the last few days 
 with a speech of old Lord Lyndhurst, which reminded me 
 of the manly and fervid eloquence of Charles Fox. It was 
 not merely a declamatory exhibition of patriotic feeling, but 
 a profound and heartfelt appeal to the highest moral prin- 
 ciples that can actuate the government of nations, an indig- 
 nant reprobation of the unprincipled and audacious attempt 
 of Russia to trample on' the freedom and civilization of 
 Europe. 
 
 We have had most pleasing intercourse with Mrs. Emp- 
 son. I never saw a more conscientious and devoted mother, 
 and we all thought her the most unworldly person we had 
 met with for a long time. No ambitious views for her chil- 
 dren ; that they may be good and hapjsy is her only aim. She 
 drank tea with us twice, and brought her children with her. 
 It was a great pleasure to me to seek birds'-nests with Frank 
 Jeffrey Empson, a very arniable and intelligent boy ; at ten 
 years old he is well read in Shakespeare. 
 
 On the 21st of August I had the very great gratification 
 to meet Lord John Russell at luncheon at Fox How. . This 
 truly honest and able statesman stopped at Low Wood Inn 
 with his family, on their way to Scotland, after the fatigues 
 of the session. Mr. Hodgson heard he was there, and 
 crossed the lake from Brathay to ask him to address a 
 meeting on opening a school at Skelwith Bridge. Lord 
 John cordially accepted the invitation. Mrs. Davy only 
 heard of this at two o'clock, and despatched her courier, 
 
312 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Mrs. Peel, with the news to us. We had not half done 
 dinner ; down went our knives and forks, and up flew 
 William to bring down the horses from The Brow, harness 
 them, and drive with all despatch to Skelwith. We arrived 
 just before Lord John began to speak. He looked at me 
 with something like a look of recognition ; but it was forty- 
 four years since I had seen him, when he was a youth in 
 Edinburgh, and used to come sometimes with Mr. Playfair 
 to our evening parties in Castle Street. Hard work has 
 pressed upon him still more than years, and has given him 
 a worn and weary look. He said he believed good teach- 
 ing to be more important than the number of schools, for 
 as is the schoolmaster so will be the school. He quoted 
 a schoolmaster of great experience, who recommended a 
 spacious playground. " And here," said Lord John, " your 
 pupils have the mountains for their playground." He paid 
 a deserved tribute of respect to the memory of Dr. Arnold, 
 and when afterwards told that his widow was in the room, 
 said, " May I be introduced to her ? " She invited him to 
 luncheon the Monday following, and had the great kindness 
 to ask Margaret and me to meet him. I was gratified to 
 find he had not forgotten our former acquaintance in Edin- 
 burgh. He spoke of those days with much interest, of Play- 
 fair and Dugald Stewart especially. When 1 told him Lord 
 Cockburn's son-in-law, Mr. Cleghorn, had lately told me 
 Lord Cockburn had left an historical account of Scotland, in 
 what might be called the reign of terror, his face lighted up 
 with a radiant smile, and he said, " Yes, even Dugald 
 Stewart was afraid," adding, " No man but Cockburn could 
 have done it ; we sent for him to consult him about the 
 Reform Bill for Scotland." Lord John is a man of few 
 words, but I did not feel that there was anything of hauteur 
 or repulsiveness in his demeanor. There is not a shade of 
 vanity or egotism about him. 
 
SPRINGFIELD LODGE. 313 
 
 [During the winter of 1854-55, it was thought best by 
 all her children, as well as by herself, that our mother should 
 be nearer medical advice during the cold season than she was 
 at Lancrigg, and near those who could more easily reach her 
 from Lesketh How and Fox How. 
 
 During the period of the Crimean War she felt most keenly 
 both for the country and individual friends. She had taken a 
 most active part in promoting the association of ladies at 
 Grasmere the preceding winter in aid of the comforts to be 
 sent to the wounded men ; and she was able, by her abounding 
 sympathy, to cheer the anxiety of the young wife of a most 
 deserving soldier, who had come to spend the time of her 
 husband's absence in the Crimea with her father at Grasmere. 
 The husband of this person was then a sergeant, and he distin- 
 guished himself so much by conduct and bravery that an offi- 
 cer's commission was offered to him, and a request at the same 
 time from the officers of his regiment that he should remain in 
 it. His grateful wife has often told me since that she does not 
 know how she could have got through that time but for the 
 " dear old lady at Lancrigg." She took all her husband's let- 
 ters to, read to her, and they cried over them together, and much 
 was explained to her about the war. I fear I always felt in this 
 war, as in most others, like old Kaspar — that " what they killed 
 each other for I never could make out." I saw my mother 
 settled at Springfield Lodge, a good house, nearly opposite 
 the gate at Lesketh How.^, Before I returned to Haslar her 
 favorite friend JMiss Mac'^ab came to spend the winter with 
 her there.] 
 
 Springfield Lodge, 10th January, 1855. — I have much 
 reason to rejoice at having come to live so near Lesketh 
 How. Springfield has agreed with me in all respects, and 
 I have been cheered within the last ten days by letters 
 telling me of Archibald's appointment to the command of 
 a gunboat in the Black Sea. May he be preserved in the 
 day of battle, and may he be enabled to do his duty, and, 
 if occasion serve, to distinguish himself in his country's 
 service. 
 14 
 
314 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 I never in my long life remember anything like the 
 national gloom and almost despondency, increased by the 
 accounts of the miserable condition of our brave troops in 
 the Crimea. 
 
 \_Part of letter from Mrs. Fletcher to her daughter Mary. 
 "Springfield, January lOlh, 1855. 
 
 "I sit down boiling with indignation against the inhabi- 
 tants of Portsmouth and its vicinity, for not giving a more 
 fitting reception to the maimed and mutilated men who came 
 home in the Himaiaya. 
 
 "I have just been reading that article in the Evening Mail, 
 describing the shameful neglect these brave men experienced; 
 and beg you will write, if possible, to contradict such a report 
 of national ingratitude and want of all right feeling, not only 
 in ofiicials but in the whole mass of the people, who ought to 
 have poured out and vied with each other in proving their 
 sense of the strong claim these brave men had upon their 
 sympathy. I can imagine, though I cannot forgive, the mis- 
 erable jealousy and little formalities which would prevent 
 naval officials from taking any active part in disembarking 
 military men, otherwise we know dear Sir John would have 
 been foremost to help them, and I wonder you, dearest Mary, 
 were not there; I am sure your old mother would have gone 
 down to the jetty, in defiance of all military etiquette, to hail 
 these poor fellows." 
 
 Sir John Richardson^ s reply to Mrs. Fletcher. 
 
 "January, nth 1855. 
 " T read with much interest your sound and hearty burst of 
 indignation on reading the Time,i' account of the landing of 
 the invalids from the Himalaya. There is more on the same 
 subject in the papers of to-day, and, indeed, such occurrences 
 are, I fear, almost inseparable from war, and from the peculiar 
 organization of our boasted civilization. Boards and bodies 
 are constituted for particular duties, and everything would be 
 deranged, and matters rendered much worse, if their action 
 were interfered with by bystanders. 
 
LETTERS. 315 
 
 "I did not hear of it till this morning, and having occasion 
 to be in the dockyard to-day, I inquired about the cause of 
 delay, and leai-ned that the officers of the Himalaya, being of 
 the merchant service, had not sent notice of the ship coming 
 into harbor to the Governor of the garrison, from whose office 
 the orders for the landing and directions for fatigue-parties 
 would have issued. Pending the arrival of these the tide was 
 falling, and the draught of water of the Himalaya being very 
 great, her officers were desirous of drawing off from the jetty 
 into deeper water, and therefore hurried the sick on shore 
 with their baggage, which had to be inspected by the Custom- 
 house authorities. 
 
 " The greater part of the Himalaya's passengers were women 
 and children, and the helplessness of the class that accompany 
 the army would scarcely be believed were it not witnessed ; 
 cleanliness and order are out of the question, and I can well 
 believe that the deck was filthy beyond description. A mer- 
 chant seaman, improperly sent on shore in a helpless condition, 
 was hawke'd about the sti'eets until he found an asylum in the 
 workhouse, where he died next morning. To-day a much 
 larger body of invalids were on board the Avon, alongside the 
 wharf. There was no want of proper officers to attend to 
 them, but they were kept judiciously on board until everything 
 was ready, the ship clean within, and the invalids cheerful and 
 content with their treatment. The more helpless had their 
 dinners on board, and were taken to the Army Hospital in 
 omnibuses, cabs, and bearers ; while the greater number were 
 directed to sleep on board, and to go next morning to Chatham. 
 The Sampson has also brought invalids, and I suppose that 
 now we shall have a continual influx, till between twenty and 
 thirty thousand of our grand army come home disabled by 
 sickness or wounds." 
 
 Mrs. Fletcher to her daughter Mary. 
 
 " Springfield, February 9th, 1855. 
 " I was in hopes your last letter, received yesterday, would 
 have brought the decision of the Admiralty resj^ecting Sir John's 
 appointment. I admire his and your composure about it, and 
 
316 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 I am astonished at my own ; for, without feeling less interest 
 in all that relates to his and your health and happiness, I feel 
 less occupied about the improved position this office would 
 afford you than I should have done some years since. I dare 
 not hope that this proceeds from my being less worldly-minded, 
 but I think extreme age has blunted the keenness of my per- 
 ceptions and desires. 
 
 " The late providential event, which surely must paralyze the 
 whole Russian Empire, while it gives light and hope to the 
 rest of the world, I hope and pray may be met by the Allies 
 in a right spirit — I mean in a Christian spirit — a moral and 
 chivalrous spirit. Our arch-enemy ^ has been stricken down, 
 not by the strength of hostile armies, not by the energy or 
 exertion of political combinations, but by the hand of God 
 Himself ; and we should not presume on this manifestation of 
 justice and mercy by proudly demanding more stringent terms 
 of peace now than we should have demanded of the author of 
 our national calamities. We should show our sense of this 
 providential interposition by our moderation and sense of 
 justice, not by proud defiance, or by any act that can prolong 
 the unhappy contest in which we are engaged. I would fain 
 hope that this event may lead to an armistice, and prevent that 
 greatest of horrors — the storming of Sebastopol. " 
 
 The first part of this letter relates to the office just then 
 vacated by the retirement of Sir William Burnett, Head of the 
 Medical Department of the Naval service. Sir John Richard- 
 son sent in his claims for the office ; but a junior officer was 
 appointed, on which my husband, feeling that he retarded the 
 promotion of those under him at Haslar Hospital, retired from 
 his active public service, and henceforth made Lancrigg his 
 home. The first summer after his retirement we spent in 
 Scotland, chiefly in the beautiful neighborhood of Achray and 
 the Trossachs, and joined my mother in the beginning of 
 winter, 1855-56, at Lancrigg. 
 
 1 The Czar Nicholas. 
 
LETTERS. 317 
 
 To her daughter Mary. " 
 
 " Springfield, March 21s<, 1855. 
 
 "I can but write you a line this morning, for you know 
 better than I can tell you how much real sympathy I feel for 
 Sir John and you on this sad occasion, knowing as I do that 
 in the natural grief you both experience in the loss of so very 
 dear an object of tender love, you will bless God for his deliver- 
 ance from a life of so much suffering, and in the unspeakable 
 blessedness he is now enjoying. ' In my Father's house are 
 many mansions.' His spirit was well fitted to inhabit that 
 nearest to his Saviour, for I think it was the most loving little 
 heart I have ever known. 
 
 " This I imagine will be the funeral day. Thank dear Jo- 
 sephine for her note, received yesterday ; it was very sweet 
 and touching. Could not Sir John ask leave to come down 
 with you, if it were but for a week? I think the change 
 might do him good. I know his entire submission to the will 
 of God, and that you will not leave him till you can do it con- 
 sistently with your duty. I am well cared for from Lesketh 
 How, but I never more ardently wished to see you. I hope 
 dear Mrs. Kendal will be with you all this sad day. I liked 
 to hear of the primroses coming from the Isle of Wight, from 
 dear Mrs; Stott, and his father placing them round the little 
 still pale face. May God support and bless you all. 
 
 ^ "E. F."] 
 
 18th March, 1855. — Since my last entry in this journal 
 I have entered on my eighty-sixth year, and have most 
 abundant cause of thankfulness for the many blessings that 
 attend this long pilgrimage — for health of body and mind, 
 and for the most affectionate and tender care I experience 
 from those near and those absent. 
 
 Public affairs continue gloomy, and I never remember a 
 time of such painful excitement. Our soldiers and sailors 
 are men of indomitable courage, but we seem to want a 
 Wellington and a Nelson. The compassionate and generous 
 feeling of the country towards the sufferers is beautiful, and 
 
318 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 the self-devotion of Miss Nightingale and her associates is 
 above all praise, and marks an epoch in the history of our 
 beloved country. Towards our Lady the Queen I have a 
 feeling of profound loyalty ; she is both the Queen and the 
 fi'iend of her suffering people. 
 
 April 11th. — To-morrow I expect my Mary. She has 
 suffered much since I parted from her in the illness and 
 death of her darling little Edward, whom she had adopted 
 with a true mother's fondness. 
 
 [I joined my dear mother at Springfield at the time she 
 expected nie, and, while Lancrigg was preparing for us, re- 
 mained with her there. Mrs. Davy records in her Note-book 
 at this time the following impression of her good looks and 
 spirits before they set off on a little foreign tour on the 25th 
 of April of this spring : — • 
 
 From Mrs. Davy^s JVofe-hook. 
 
 " We all ran down to Springfield to have the last words and 
 kisses from dearest Gran. ; but so active was her love and 
 sympathy with our outset, that just as we were getting into 
 the carriage, at 12 o'clock, April 25th, she, with aunt Mary, 
 appeared before our door. It was a sweet, genial morning, but 
 Gran.'s face looked more sweet and genial still." 
 
 To her daiighter Mary, in the Highlands. 
 
 "Lancrigg, 1855. 
 " I had a great treat on Saturday morning, for half an hour. 
 Our dear Mrs. Arnold brought Arthur Stanley to see me. It 
 does one's heart good to see a man devoting all his powers to 
 his Master's service. He is so animated, so Agreeable, so un- 
 spoiled by his high reputation, so child-like in simplicity, and 
 80 vigorous in his conceptions, and candid in his constructions. 
 We had only a few words about Lord John Russell as he was 
 getting into the car. He said ' it was too wide a field to enter 
 upon, that Lord John had committed some mistakes; but I 
 believe,' he said, ' that you and I shall live to see him again 
 
LAS2' MONTH OF HOUSEKEEPING. 319 
 
 Prime Minister at the desire of the people.' The car drove off, 
 leaving me this drop of comfort. 
 
 " September, 1855." 
 
 Lancrigg, 18th September, 1855. — In May it p]eased 
 God to bring me through a severe attack of bronchitis, 
 and I am thankful to say I have been in better health since 
 than I was before my illness. The tender attentions I 
 received from all my children made me feel that I had not 
 lived too long. 
 
 I made few new acquaintances this summer, but was 
 cheered by the visits of our dear old friend, James Wilson. 
 There is something inexpressibly reviving in the company of 
 one who recalls former happy reminiscences. 
 
 October 29th, 1855. — This is my last month of house- 
 keeping. I never liked the details of that vocation, and 
 hence I always enjoyed the freedom and ease of living at 
 an inn. Henceforward Mary's inn at Lancrigg will be my 
 headquarters. Goodness and mercy have followed me all 
 the days of my life. Pray God I may never lose the bless- 
 ing of a thankful spirit, and that all my children, when 
 they lay me in " our grave," ^ may be thankful that I end my 
 long pilgrimage in peace among them. I trust in the mercy 
 of God that, through the^merits of Christ, lie will take me 
 to his everlasting kingdom of righteousness when I can no 
 longer be useful or satisfactory to those who love me best 
 on earth. 
 
 January 2d, 1856. — It has pleased Almighty God to per- 
 mit me to live to see another year, and to bless me with 
 more health and contentment of mind than I have expe- 
 rienced for several years past. 
 
 March 14th. — Public affairs look most promising in the 
 prospect of peace. How true is that sentence in one of 
 
 1 We chose the spot together, and she always called it " our grave." 
 
320 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 the beautiful Collects of our Church's ritual, " The hearts of 
 Kin<fs are in thy rule and governance." The fate of nations 
 is determined by that will which can alone bring good 
 out of evil. 
 
 I am rejoicing in George's appointment at Chittagong 
 as a proof of his deserts, and clieercd by Sir E. Tjyons' 
 excellent report of Archibald's professional character. 
 
 August 2d, 1856. — The deep interest I have taken in 
 Lord Cockburn's " Memorials " has been a new era in ray 
 existence. Tiiis dtjlighti'ul book has refreshed my spirit, 
 improvcid my health, and, I verily believe, will continue to 
 cheer and Icngtlicn my life. 
 
 August IGth. — Our domestic sorrows have been increased 
 by the increasing sufferings of poor Josephine. She affords 
 a remarkable example of patience, employing every waking 
 hour of the day, and even sometimes at midnight, in read- 
 ing, using her needle, or knitting. She is always cheerful ; 
 and once, when J ventured to express sympathy in hsr 
 sufferings, she gently rebuked me, and, with a placid smile, 
 said, " Yes, but you know whom the Lord loveth lie chas- 
 teneth." Sir .John's great sorrow on her account is sup- 
 ported with manly as well as with Christian resignation. 
 lie sits in a room adjoining that which she occupies, and 
 through the open door he can see and hear her while he 
 employs himscU' in writing a scientific article of consider- 
 able resi>arch in natural history, lie gets books from the 
 British Museum. JNIy dearest Mary neglects no }iart of 
 her duties to me and the sick-room, and is mercifully sup- 
 ported under her great trials. 
 
 [ To Mrs. Arnold. 
 
 " October \0ili, 1856. 
 
 " I cannot toll you how much we all enjoyed the pleasure 
 Mr. Stanley's visit gave us yesterday; I only regretted dear 
 
DEATH OF JOSEPTUNE lilCnAlWSON. 321 
 
 I' 
 Mary was not Ium-o to share it with us. AVo accoin]Kiiii(>d him in 
 his most intorcsliiiij; Scottisii tour, from the V('iu'ra.l)le sitcol' St. 
 Andrews and the liistorical reeords of the ohl Covcmiiitcrs to 
 the romantic haunts of Burns and tho grave of Helen Walker.' 
 
 " Then his exceeding admiration of Edinburgh, tracing its 
 real resemblance in national features to tho Athens of ancient 
 Greece; his liberal view of the Scottish Church and Church- 
 men; and above all, his estimation of the intelligence of tho 
 Scottish peasantry. All this, given with liis own peculiar 
 earnestness and simpHcity of manner, made us exclaim, when 
 the door closed upon him, ' Well, there is but cue Arthur 
 Stanley in the world.* 
 
 " I think much of you, my dear friend, and rejoice that you 
 will have all your daughters with you to-ilay."] 
 
 October 20th, 1856. — It was judged best for mo to go 
 to Leskcth How as j)oor ,Iosoi)hine's last days drovv near ; 
 so in the beginning of Se|)tc!mber, after Dr. and Mrs. Davy 
 had set off on their Highland tour, Mrs. Taylor and 1 
 went to stay with the dear girls, .loscphine died without 
 a struggle on the evening of the Hth Septend)er, and a moro 
 pure, patient, uncomplaining s})irit never went to its ever- 
 lastuig home. 
 
 [Parts of one or two of my mother's letters to a correspond- 
 ent in Edinburgh she nnieh-Vidued, of a younger generation, are 
 inserted hero, on a subject near her heart : — 
 
 Mrs. Fletcher to Montgomery Bell, Esq. 
 
 "./««(' 5^^, 185G. 
 "My dicar Mr. Bkli,, — Your kind letter, received this 
 morning, has anticipated my intention of writing to tell you 
 how exceedingly I and all my family have been delighted with 
 Lord Cockburn's 'Memorials.' On seeing the book adver- 
 tised, I wrote to Messrs. Jilack to send me a copj' the momoiit 
 it was out, and it arrived a few days ago. I don't know when 
 
 1 Jeanie Deans. 
 
 14* IT 
 
322 A UTO BIO GRAPHY. 
 
 I have been so much refreshed and exhilarated as in reading 
 it. The passage you transcribe was particularly gratifying to 
 me; it is so true and so characteristic of him whom it describes. 
 Lord Cockburn is, indeed, most happy in the truth of his por- 
 traits. He might have dwelt more fully on the hardships and 
 diificulties that beset the few Whig members of the Bar be- 
 tween the years 1791 and 1800. ... It is a dehghtful book; 
 and since there is no other literary monument of Lord Cock- 
 burn's great ability and integrity, these ' Memorials ' will attest 
 them. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 1856. 
 
 " The more I reflect on the great public good the late Lord 
 Cockburn did in his lifetime, and the great value of ' Memorials 
 of His Time,' lately published, the more strongly I am con- 
 vinced of the debt due by his countrymen to his memory. 
 Now, I do not know whether any monument has been or is 
 likely to be erected to his memory in Edinburgh; if not, it 
 occurs to me that with the approbation of his family, it would 
 be well for the friends of Reform to raise such a sura, by sub- 
 scription, as would afford an annual prize of a gold medal to 
 such a scholar of the New Academy (the Institution which 
 originated with Lord Cockburn) as should write the best Essay 
 on Constitutional Freedom, or other historical subjects, and be 
 most approved by the Directors of the Academy, and that such 
 a prize should be called the Cockburn Medal. This idea has 
 haunted me ever since I read the ' Memorials.' 
 
 " Your views of the public results of this war delight me 
 exceedingly — the moral and religious amelioration and social 
 improvement that may arise out of it. God grant your hopes 
 may be prophetic; I am a willing disciple of your hopeful 
 school; to despair of a just cause is to deny a wise and good 
 Providence. I do not envy those who can read of our good 
 Queen reviewing her noble fleet with dry eyes; it is good for 
 her children to have heard the cheers of her gallant men at 
 Spithead." 
 
 Lancrigg, 15th January, 1857. — It has pleased our most 
 
ILLNESS OF ELIZABETH DAVY. 323 
 
 gracious God to permit me to enter on this eighty-eighth 
 year of my long life in better health, and more freedom 
 from infirmity in mind and body, than is usual at so ad- 
 vanced an age. I have no doubt my life has been pro- 
 longed, as I am sure my happiness has been greatly pro- 
 moted, by the family arrangements that have been made, 
 in my freedom from household cares. 
 
 March 12th. — I have passed nearly three months of this 
 new year in surprising health and happiness, feeling the in- 
 firmities of my very advanced age, but feeling in a still 
 greater measure the mercy of God in preserving to n^e my 
 faculties of mental enjoyment in no common degree ; feeble- 
 ness of limbs, and some degree of deafness, remind me of old 
 age, but my heart is I think as young as ever. 
 
 April 24th, 1857. — Since my last entry in this Journal 
 I have experienced the greatest anxiety on account of the 
 alarming illness of my dear grandchild, Elizabeth Davy. I 
 had presumptuously hoped that none of those I tenderly love 
 might be called to suffer deejaly before I am to be called 
 hence ; but our merciful Father has seen fit to give me 
 another trial of faith and patience. 
 
 May 24th, 1857. — We s^w dear Lizzie the day after her 
 parents and Grace brough.t her home ; so sadly changed 
 was her appearance that^ I should scarcely have known her. 
 She did not keep her bed entirely for more than a week, 
 but symptoms of rapid consumption appeared, and her 
 strength sank rapidly. There was a great increase of 
 gentleness, lowliness of mind, and great consideration for 
 others : nothing could exceed her humility. Deeply as I 
 felt the loss, and dearly as I loved the sufferer, when I lost 
 all hope of her recovery I was thankful for her release. 
 O Lord, let us not forget all Thy mercies, while we endeavor 
 to bow to Thy chastisements. 
 
 October 6th, 1857. — After two months I resume my 
 
324 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Journal. On the 7th August, Sir John, Mary, and Beatrice 
 set off for Ireland, paying some pleasant visits in Yoi-kshire 
 on the way. Sir John attended the meeting of the British 
 Association, where he met many of his scientific friends, and 
 received an honorary degree from Trinity College, Dublin. 
 Mary was unwilling to go on my account, but I insisted on 
 her doing so, and they have all much enjoyed their tour 
 and cheered me by their letters. The miserable state of 
 India weighs me down, and dwells upon my mind with 
 fearful terror. I feel a sad want of faith and hope on that 
 subject, and pray God to give me that " peace which passeth 
 understanding." 
 
 [This was the last entry in her Journal, but I bad many 
 letters from her on our tour, expressing the warm interest she 
 felt in all we heard and saw, especially in the Reformatory for 
 boys established by her new neighbor and much-esteemed 
 friend, Mr. Wheatley Balme, at whose Yorkshire home we 
 paid a short visit. We also visited Mr. Brooke and Miss Lay- 
 cock, near Huddersfield, and saw the distribution of prizes to 
 the young mechanics, given by Lord Granville with an encour- 
 aging address. 
 
 From Mrs. Fletcher to her daughter Mary. 
 
 " August, 1857. 
 " I have just read your yesterday's letter, not without tears 
 at your account of the distribution of prizes, especially of that? 
 pale-faced young mechanic who had written the best essay on 
 English Uterature. That lad, if he lives, will henceforth distin- 
 guish himself. Do get his name and present occupation. Those 
 shouts of sympathetic feeling will never be forgotten by those 
 who gained the prizes, and will be strong incentives to those who 
 strive to gain them in future." 
 
LAST LETTER TO MRS. STARK. 325 
 
 Mrs. Fletcher to Mrs. Stark. 
 
 " Lanckigg, October 11th, 1857. 
 
 " Mt dear Friend, — Many thanks to yon for remember- 
 ing me amidst your many anxieties and tender sympathies for 
 suffering friends. I feel for them and you most deeply. I 
 Bee many well-informed people take a less gloomy view of 
 Indian affairs than I do. My only comfort is in the belief 
 that a ' righteous God loveth righteousness,' and that He has 
 power to bring good out of evil. Never was there such a trial 
 of faith and hope as this sad state of India. 
 
 " My own bodily health is good, and I pray against de- 
 spondency; for in my eighty-eighth year I can make little effort. 
 You would not know me, I am so changed in mind and tem- 
 perament. You will pray for me. All the circumstances of my 
 home are the happiest possible, and I am very grateful for it." 
 
 When we returned to Lancrigg, the end of September, we 
 ■were received with even more than my mother's usual warmth 
 and thankfulness of affection. The weather was very fine, and 
 she sat with me and others a good deal in the open air, and 
 took a lively interest in hearing of tiie different people we had 
 seen, especially her old friend Mr. Craig and his daughter Sarah, 
 in Tipperary, Dr. Livingstone, then about to return to his great 
 mission in Africa, Lady Parry, whom we had seen in Wicklow, 
 and many others. I had-'"not, however, been long or much 
 alone with my mother before I became aware that the hope- 
 ful buoyancy of her spirit was affected in a way I had 
 never before seen it. The excellent maid who always slept in 
 her room told me that she had observed a change in her a few 
 days before our return from Ireland. At the age of eighty- 
 seven it should not have excited any surprise, as the very in- 
 tensity of her feelings made it more remarkable that the spring 
 of hopefulness had lasted so long, than that it should now in 
 some degree fail. The variety of private sorrows and public 
 troubles, in which she had taken so deep an interest, during 
 the last years of her life, doubtless did contribute to the end 
 which was approaching. We could not but feel " that the 
 silver cord of her existence was loosed, that the golden 
 
326 AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 towl was broken," although we never lost the hope of her 
 revival until the middle of January. After that her bodily 
 weakness increased; she kept chiefly in bed, and died from the 
 exhaustion of nature, without any bodily pain, and in a gentle 
 sleep, on the morning of the 5th of Februarj'^, 1858. 
 
 The following note from our kind fi'iend, the Rev. R. P. 
 Graves, expresses truly what we desired fervently to feel at 
 the time — " That it was well:" — ■ 
 
 " Dove Nest, Windekmere, February 5th, 1858. 
 
 " My dear Lapy Richardson, — I have just heard that God 
 has taken to Himself your dear, good, noble mother. ' It is 
 well,' and we must all feel thankful to Him that her decline 
 was not longer protracted. Her own rest is come; and yet 
 we need not think of her as gone from us, for I am sure she will 
 still live in our hearts, and her example, looked back upon, 
 continue to animate our lives. I cannot thei'efore speak as a 
 mourner, though feeling deeply all she has been to the many 
 circles which looked to her as to a centime ; and I earnestly trust 
 that those nearest to her, and to whom she was most precious, 
 will be enabled to give her back to God with thankfulness far 
 exceeding their sorrow. I shall be very desirous to hear that 
 you and dear Mrs. Davy have not suffered in health by the trial 
 you have been going through. R. P. Graves."] 
 
CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 
 
 At the time of my mother's death, now seventeen years 
 ago, one who had known her only during the latter years of 
 her life, wrote thus to a mutual friend concerning her ap- 
 proaching death : — " I am very sorry to hear nothing more 
 hopeful from Lancrigg ; but the balance is not all on the 
 mournful side. A mission so fulfilled, and such a mission, 
 is not a common thing. Merely to have seen her must have 
 kept many people from doing much mischief, if it has not 
 led them to do sorne little bit of good — ' Life is real, life is 
 earnest,' was so plainly and attractively preached by her 
 look alone." 
 
 If such was the impression of a thoughtful observer, who 
 had only known her slightly, and if it be responded to by all 
 who came nearer to her, j,nd most of all by those to whom 
 life lost most of its sunshine when she left it, it seems at 
 once due to her memory and the cause of goodness to en- 
 deavor to bring together the records of a social influence so 
 extensive and so penetrating as hers. 
 
 The reminiscences written by herself were begun, at my 
 request, when she was nearly seventy, and give a vivid 
 picture of her simple childhood and youth, the events of 
 which stood out in her recollection as a green vista of sum- 
 mer days, spent among the fields and flowers of a small 
 unknown hamlet in the plain of York. She continued to 
 note down at intervals her joys and her sorrows until 
 
328 CONCLUDING CU AFTER. 
 
 nearly the close of her life ; but after her marriage her life 
 became one so full of jDublic and private interests, and her 
 sphere of usefulness was so extended, that her reminis- 
 cences, although full of the impress of her faith, love, and 
 hope, fail, perhaps, in giving so distinct an impression of 
 her whole character as may be gathered from some of 
 her letters written at the time to those who shared her 
 thoughts and feelings on passing events of interest and affec- 
 tion. 
 
 It was the earnest desire of my dear sister, Mrs. Davy, 
 as well as my own, that these Memorials of our mother 
 should be printed for her descendants ; and my sister un- 
 dertook to select some letters, and to add her own recol- 
 lections, which went back five years earlier than mine 
 relating to the Edinburgh period. This my sister was able 
 to do before her illness and death, which occurred in 1869. 
 Since then a succession of family sorrows have made me 
 delay the preparation of these Memorials for the press ; 
 but now that my own day is far spent, I am desirous to 
 accomplish the work before I go hence, feeling sure that I 
 can in no other way leave so precious a legacy to her great- 
 grandchildren as the example her noble, truthful, loving, 
 and consistent life sets before them. Hers cannot perhaps 
 be considered a religious autobiography in the ordinary sense 
 of that term, but it is because we believe that hers was in 
 very truth a life devoted to God's service and her neigh- 
 bor's good, that we desire to have a record of it left in print 
 for her descendants. 
 
 My mother's view of the social duties of a Christian led 
 her to the conviction that exclusiveness was a defect rather 
 than a merit, and although she had many intimate friends 
 among those who held different opinions on these points, it 
 was a striking proof of the consistency with which she was 
 able to cany out her principle of living above the common- 
 
CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 329 
 
 place estimate of social life in England, while mixing freely 
 in it, that I believe no one ever suspected her of what is 
 called worldliness in her intercourse with society. She so 
 little suspected this in others that it ceased to exist in her 
 presence. She called out the reality of those she conversed 
 with by the intuitive sympathy she felt and expressed for 
 what was real, beautiful, and true, and by her no less 
 strongly expressed scorn for what was base, frivolous, and 
 sordid. She had not by nature what is often mistaken by 
 the other sex for sweetness of temper, the clinging, yielding 
 temperament which submits patiently to injustice and 
 neglect ; and had she been united to one less affectionate, 
 and less high-toned than herself, she might have been 
 supremely miserable, but her wealth of " saving common 
 sense " prevented her " miscellaneous impulses " from lead- 
 ing her astray. She could not have attached herself 
 strongly to any one who had not the great qualities she 
 most valued, — earnestness of purpose and singleness of 
 heart. She was loved by men and women as few so beau- 
 tiful have been ; for if it be true that beauty in their own 
 sex excites the envy of women rather than their affection, 
 it was one of her felicities to form an exception to this 
 axiom. The affection of good women formed a great part 
 of the happiness of her'life, and she scattered flowers and 
 interests over the paths of many who, from temperament 
 or circumstances, might not have enjoyed some of the 
 pleasures she was enabled to bring within their reach. 
 
 The secret of my mother's influence was well expressed 
 by her early friend, Dr. Kilvington, of Ripon, as she her- 
 self records it, and it may be called the key-note of her 
 whole life. He says in one of his letters to her at the age 
 of seventeen, " I have never known any one so tenderly and 
 truly and universally beloved as you are, and I believe it 
 arises from your capacity of loving." As this loving heart 
 
330 CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 
 
 was God's special gift to her, so she gave her heart to Him 
 in as large a measure as can be said of any human being. 
 She lived in the habitual fear and love of God, fear of 
 offending Him, and joy in loving Him. Her fear of offend- 
 ing God w^as shown in the unmurmuring- submission with 
 which she bore great sorrows, and her joy in loving her 
 Father in Heaven, by the overflowing gratitude with 
 which she expressed her sense of His daily mercies. Of 
 her it might be said with truth, " She rejoiced to see a 
 Divine will moving in all things, and so it came to pass 
 that her common thoughts were piety, and her life grati- 
 tude." 
 
 The bright sunshine of winter or summer, good tidings 
 either of a public or private nature, called out these fervent 
 ejaculations of thankfulness to ': God the Giver of all good 
 things." If tidings of a melancholy nature reached her, 
 her first impulse was to alleviate, if possible, the present 
 sviffering, and then to find out all the points of comfort 
 in the case before her. It would be difiicult to select 
 any special instances of this thankfulness of heart; it 
 seemed so much a part of herself that, when it ceased, she 
 died. 
 
 She had been an early riser from her childhood, and 
 continued to be so until nearly eighty ; and so wide and 
 varied were her interests, that every day seemed to bring 
 its work along with it, so that life never lost its practical 
 or its poetical aspect where she was. After she ceased to 
 join the family breakfast-table, the activity of the mind 
 continued in full force from the early hour at which she 
 awoke until ten at night. She occupied herself for houi's 
 before others in the house were astir, in reading or writing, 
 or devising liberal things for the good or enjoyment of 
 others. Perhaps one of the most vivid recollections that 
 we have of her, in her latter years, is her appearance in 
 
CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 331 
 
 bed before breakfast on a fine spring or summer morning, 
 her face still radiant from the morning reading of her 
 favorite Psalms. The tones in which she would repeat, 
 after the morning kiss, " Bless the Lord, my sOul, and 
 forget not all His benefits," the bright, healthy complexion, 
 SO unlike that of age in general, the mingled look of purity 
 and intellect her eye expressed as she looked into the eyes 
 of those she loved for the sympathy which, thank God, she 
 never failed to receive, and then the thoughts and feelings 
 of the night, the sad ones disappearing in the utterance of 
 them and the hopeful ones taking their place, with her 
 plans for the day, which always included some attention to 
 the wants and feelings of others, rich or poor, — this pic- 
 ture rises to the memory, as the habitual state during 
 an old age which was as free as her whole life had been 
 from bodily or mental infirmity, and which continued 
 to be her frame of mind until five months before her 
 death. 
 
 The minute and affectionate interest she took in her 
 poorer neighbors was a very marked feature in her char- 
 acter, very early formed, and continued through her busy 
 life to the end. If she had adopted the mother of a family 
 as a friend, this interest, from sympathy with her, was 
 carried out towards every member of the household, chil- 
 dren and grandchildren; and if any of them were settled 
 at a distance, either in England, Scotland, or Ireland, New 
 Zealand or Australia, India or America, she found she had 
 some friend there, to whom she could recommend them, or 
 from whom she could learn some tidings of them to cheer 
 the mother's or the granny's heart. In talking about them, 
 she rarely made a mistake about their names. Several 
 have mentioned this to me with surprise and pleasure, that 
 their Willys, and Johnnys, and Marys were so distinctly 
 remembered by her in her great age. 
 
332 CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 
 
 The impression she made on servants who were capable 
 of understanding her character was also a striking point in 
 her social influence ; many of them have since told me 
 that although she was a faithful reprover of their faults 
 and not what could be called an unexacting mistress, that 
 scarcely a day passes since they left her service that they 
 do not think of her with gratitude, and feel proud to have 
 been in the same house with her so long. The feeling so 
 common with servants of having a separate code of morals 
 for themselves and their masters, was one she exceedingly 
 disliked ; she endeavored to make them feel that she 
 loved them as children of a common Master, and earnestly 
 desired to raise them to her standard of feeling and action ; 
 and where she was understood by her domestics, the im- 
 pression she made on them was as permanent as on every 
 other class of persons she associated with. 
 
 None are now left who remember my mother in her 
 early married life, but I have received some recollections of 
 her from two members of the same family — Mr. Bannatyne, 
 of Glasgow, and his sister, Mrs. Stark, one of her most 
 valued friends and correspondents for fifty years. Mrs. 
 Stark's reminiscences were sent to me soon after my 
 mother's death, and Mr. Bannatyne's were copied from 
 his Note-book and sent to me after his death by his 
 widow. 
 
 Mrs. Stark says : — " You will feel, I am sure, everything 
 that remains to you of your dearest mother so strongly 
 and vividly impressed that when your sister and you are 
 together you will call up the remembrance , as if you saw 
 it in a stereoscope, and little things will float before you 
 hardly noted at the time. There was always a purpof*e 
 and a character in everything she said and did. From the 
 time I first knew her, her kindness and condescension (I 
 was going to say to me, but she would not have liked that 
 
CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 333 
 
 word) engaged and charmed me, and, as her whole noble 
 nature unfolded to me, won my whole heart. 
 
 " We had heard of Mrs. Fletcher before, but I think it 
 must have been about 1803 when your father and she came 
 to spend an evening with us at my uncle Dugald Stewart's, 
 where I was on a visit with my parents. Our father and 
 yours were friends before. How well I remember her 
 and all the conversation of that supper-table, the very place 
 she sat, with her blue gown and brilliant look. I had not-- 
 been much in company, but we, my dear father and mother 
 and I, were all to go to a ball at Miss Coates's, where we 
 should see Mrs. Fletcher again. To see her seemed to me 
 enough. Henry Brougham was there, and Robert Owen, 
 and many other notabilities. I watched every one who 
 had the happiness to be near her, and particularly when 
 her face was lighted up in conversation with my father or 
 mother; but she spoke to me so kindly, and told me to 
 come and see her when I went to Edinburgh ; and so I did ; 
 and from that day, ever, ever on, she di'ew me to love and 
 admire her more and more. 
 
 " Soon after I went to my Edinburgh home she gave it her 
 blessing, and your father and she used to be our inmates at 
 the cottage at Kirkhill." ,' 
 
 From Mr. Bannatyn^s Note-hook. 
 
 " Glasgow, 21s< February, 1858. 
 
 " Mrs. Fletcher is dead, at a very advanced age. I trust 
 some day justice will be done in some of the autobiographies of 
 distinguished men, probably in Brougham's, to this very re- 
 markable woman. Throughout life I have never known a 
 purer, a more elevated, a more amiable spirit. Her beautiful 
 countenance and majestic air were combined with the most 
 attractive kindliness. Her full and commanding voice and 
 faultless speech live, like every other distinguishing feature, in 
 
334 CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 
 
 the memory of all who were privileged to know her, and most 
 of all in the memory of those who were permitted to call her 
 a friend; and these were not few, for never was there a mind 
 better attuned, not only to general benevolence, but to warm 
 personal attachments. She busied herself through life in pro- 
 moting liberty and truth and holiness. Her enthusiasm in 
 favor of the rights of man, at a period when this country was 
 threatened with despotic rule by an oligarchy, raised up many 
 violent and bitter opjaonents ; but I doubt whether she ever had 
 an enemy. Her disinterestedness and candor disarmed those 
 who might otherwise, in times of the greatest excitement, have 
 yielded themselves up to personal hostility, even against a 
 w^oman. It was my happiness, as a boy, to have had the oppor- 
 tunity of intimately knowing Mrs. Fletcher." 
 
 It was early in this century that she became intimate 
 with Henry Brougham, during the period he passed in 
 Edinburgh, before he left the Scotch Bar. They seldom 
 met in after years, but he never ceased to make her feel 
 that she retained that place in his respect and friendship 
 which his young imagination had assigned her. 
 
 In Lord Brougham's introduction to his own speech on 
 Burgh Reform in Scotland, when he notices with high praise 
 my father's exertions in that cause, he takes occasion to pay ' 
 a tribute to my mother. He compares her to two women 
 of most heroic and tender natures — Madame Roland and 
 Lucy Hutchinson ; and if we add to them Lady Grizzel 
 Baillie (her own favorite heroine), we have, as nearly as pos- 
 sible, the combination of qualities which made up her moral 
 and intellectual nature in the estimation of those who knew 
 her best. 
 
 I remember, when on a visit to Mrs. Brougham in 1832, 
 my mother's expressing her fervent sympathy with the 
 mother of such a man, one who had so largely benefited his 
 country, and had at the same time been so affectionate a 
 
CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 335 
 
 son and brother, and she added — "I fear, my dear friend, 
 my head could not have stood such a trial of happiness as 
 yours has done ; " while the mother of Brougham, with her 
 quiet smile and look of grand simplicity, replied — "I must 
 say Henry neA'er forgets his old mother." 
 
 Mrs. Brougham told us also on this visit to Brougham 
 Hall that the time she felt most elated, and had fears for 
 her own head, was when her son Henry was returned 
 Member for Yorkshire, without possessing an acre of ground 
 in the county. She took us to see the picture presented to 
 her on that occasion of Henry Brougham by the freeholders 
 of Yorkshire. I remember she told me then, when we were 
 alone, that her son always considered that my mother's 
 friendship had been of great use to him as a young man, 
 that her entire absence of personal vanity astonished him, 
 and that she never failed to rouse him to noble aims for the 
 honor and good of his country. 
 
 This testimony from his venerable mother, who was 
 truth itself, gives additional interest to the last letter he 
 wrote to mine, on hearing from Mrs. Arnold, at Kendal, of 
 his old friend's serious illness. I cannot resist inserting it 
 in this closing chapter, as there is a gentle and tender tone 
 about it, which is pleasant to associate with one who filled 
 so prominent a place iiT England's Parliamentary history 
 dui-ing fifty years of this century. 
 
 I 
 From Lord Brougham. 
 
 " My dear old Frifnd, — It gave me great pleasure indeed 
 to see Mrs. Arnold and her daughter here, from the respect I, 
 in common with all. had for Dr. Arnold ; but it was no Httle 
 abatement of this gratification to hear from her of your having 
 been ailing. I hope and trust that you are getting round, and I 
 shall be most truly obliged to you if you will desire some one to 
 give me a few lines directed to London, where (d. v.) I hope to 
 
336 CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 
 
 arrive this evening, merely to let me know how yoii are. The 
 pleasure I have in seeing once more my old Kendal friends 
 (alas! I may say those of them who remain) has been greatly 
 increased by finding them so right and so zealous in their 
 opinions upon the new attempts to revive the infernal slave- 
 trade under a new name. What I stated last July in the 
 House of Lords on this subject proves to have been rather 
 under than over the truth, and I well know that of the many 
 subjects connected with human rights and duties on which you 
 and I have always agreed (indeed, I know of none on which we 
 ever differed), there has been none nearer to your heai-t thau 
 this. — Ever, your affectionate H. Brougham. 
 
 "Kendal, Tuesday, Nov. 11, 1857." 
 
 The Impressions made on a Granddaughter as a Child. 
 
 " The concern she showed if any of her grandchildren 
 failed in due deference to her never had a shadow of petty 
 exactingness, but was always plainly for themselves, as being 
 a defect of character where she would fain have seen nothing 
 but good. If she ever fancied there had been the least trace 
 of personal vexation in the most deserved reproof, she would 
 before long ask a little girl's pardon as for undue vehemence, 
 to the delighted wonder of the rest and the utter melting of 
 the culprit herself. 
 
 " Her sympathy with the young in all their joys had the 
 rare quality of not requiring that the joy should be one 
 she herself would have chosen, her imagination always 
 helping her heart to enter into the needs of widely differing 
 characters. Her intuitive wisdom also kept her from expect- 
 ing exact agreement with even her most cherished forms 
 of o^jinion, content if she saw any kindling of enthusiasm 
 for what was unquestionably good, any sign of quiet duti- 
 fulness ; and many who in a different age and among other 
 surroundings may have been led to varying conclusions 
 must yet feel how much of any love of goodness and hatred 
 of evil there may be in them was kindled and fostered 
 by her. How much of the delight in books, and Nature, 
 and human life, came to them through the touch of her 
 
CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 887 
 
 '^:!c:'::i ,r ™^ 'r ""-^ *-.-'** t^e 
 
 the tae) hirt .1° T',""'"' ""'* ("nconsoiously at 
 through the ..ead I'whL the wt' '" '™"'°«'' *°" 
 
 indignation, and, on th "th i of t.' T"' ."'' '' ^°"^^* 
 simplicities of 1 f e of unlll'f. f r ''"*^ '^ *^^ *^"« 
 
 sr:itrj^.~ ^"-- ::: 
 
 regard Th. ^^^.^^'^^^^ *« bestow alms a much-coveted 
 
 ::ro„ f.^-rcra:rrrt,S";afar 
 
 o<; h'r r:^::: - trr:.:r„/s -,r- 
 riZaZ^f. ^"^ ^-' "" ^^^- -^ --- -„. ?:ra:: 
 
 The following eitraof from Margaret Fuller's book "At 
 Home and Abroad," was lately sent to me by a friend 1 
 .s a w.„nder£ully true picture of the outward LmTevtlin ' 
 
 madeTitirV" "d"'"™' °' «™-^- ^'« -'^-^ ' 
 made m t is quite pardonable in a foreigner, and even in 
 
 an Amencan, that of believing my motht t; be sl",^ 
 
 and hke the old ladies admired by Bums and Lot t 
 
 - very difficult for travellers to tod out accnraX the 
 
 dis luctive di£fe.e„ce between English, Scotch, and ", .^ 
 
 .:; i::^:'j'--^-' ^•'^-^'' p-'-tiy known 
 
 15 
 
338 CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 
 
 From "At Home and Abroad," by Margaret Fuller OssolL 
 
 "Ambleside, Aug. 27, 1846. 
 
 " We also met a fine specimen of the noble, intelligent Scotch- 
 woman, such as Walter Scott and Burns knew how to prize. 
 Seventy-six years have passed over her head, only to prove in 
 her the truth of my theory, that we need never grow old. She 
 was ' brought up ' in the animated and intellectual circle of 
 Edinburgh, in youth an apt disciple, in her prime a bright 
 ornament, of that society. She had been an only child, a 
 cherished wife, an adored mother, unspoiled by love in any of 
 these relations, because that love was founded on knowledge. 
 In childhood she had warmly sympathized in the spirit that 
 animated the American Revolution, and Washington had been 
 her hero : later, the interest of her husband in every struggle for 
 freedom had cherished her own. She had known in the course 
 of her long life many eminent men, and sympathized now in 
 the triumph of the people over the Corn Laws, as she had in 
 the American victories, with as much ardor as when a girl, 
 though with a wiser mind. Her eye was full of light, her 
 manner and gesture of dignity; her voice rich, sonorous, and 
 finely modulated ; her tide of talk marked by candor and 
 justice, showing in every sentence her ripe experience and her 
 noble genial nature. Dear to memory will be the sight of her 
 in the beautiful seclusion of her home among the mountains, a 
 picturesque, flower-wreathed dwelling, where affection, tran- 
 quillity, and wisdom were the gods of the hearth to whom 
 was offered no vain oblation. Grant us more such women, 
 Tine! Grant to men to reverence, to seek for such!" 
 
 My mother, who died at eighty -eight, had survived all 
 her own contemporary friends, but her affections were so 
 young and her sympathy " so radiant," as Mrs. Arnold used 
 to say, that she made many friends among the middle-aged 
 and young when they met in London, or when they visited 
 the Lakes on a summer holiday. Among those she most 
 valued were the Rev. Hampden Gurney, Frederick Maurice, 
 Alexander Scott, and especially Mr. Stanley, now Dean of 
 
CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 339 
 
 Westminster, whom she had known when he was a Rugby 
 sixth-form boy. Mr. H. Gurney, writing of her to Mrs. 
 Arnold at the time of her death, says, " I had heard of 
 Mrs. Fletcher's hopeless illness, so it was a relief to hear 
 from you that she had reached the Land where the Sun of 
 Righteousness shines without a cloud. I am thankful to 
 have known so grand a specimen of noble womanhood." 
 To the same friend Mr. Stanley wrote at the time : " I had 
 heard of Mrs Fletcher's death from young William Words- 
 worth at Oxford. She had certainly to the very last 
 nourished and renewed her strength, ' mounted up with 
 wings as an eagle.' How much there is to be thankful 
 for, in every such case, that one has known of a character 
 living on for so many years without leaving behind any 
 recollection of littleness, and so very much of excellence and 
 beauty." 
 
 To me also Mr. Stanley wrote, after a visit to Lancrigg, 
 from Fox How, on his return from his tour to the Holy 
 Land with the Prince of Wales, when I sent him a photo- 
 graph of my mother : — 
 
 " Many thanks for the photograph, which I shall value highly 
 as a memorial of the character which I used to regard as a per- 
 sonification beyond any oth,er I had ever seen of Christian 
 Hope. Indeed, I fully entered into your feeling, and was 
 grateful to you for at once speaking so freely on a grief, which 
 is not increased but greatly lightened by being always re- 
 membered. I went to your mother's grave in Grasmere Church- 
 yard, and was much struck with the texts. It was of her, as 
 indeed of my own dear mother, so true, that the eye and the 
 ear, of any who had eyes to see or ears to hear, so immediately 
 received what was within. ' ' 
 
 Hope was indeed the " anchor of her soul " from youth 
 to age. She quoted four lines to me in one of the last 
 letters I had from her, when hope was beginning to give 
 
340 CONCLUDING CHAPTER. 
 
 way but love still remained. I do not yet know who wrote 
 them, but they very much exjDress her habitual state of 
 mind, and with them I close this book : — 
 
 " For who has aught to love, and loves aright, 
 Will never in the darkest strait despair, 
 For out of love exhales a living light, 
 The light of love, that spends itself in prayer." 
 
MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 
 
 BY HER MOTHER. 
 
 July 15fh, 1817. 
 
 My dear Children, — The desire of my heart is to preserve 
 some memorial of your beloved sister, some record or testimony 
 of her many rare and admirable qualities ; and this not for 
 her sake only, but for yours, that amidst the temptations, sor- 
 rows, or vicissitudes of life, you may have, as it were, a sort of 
 sanctuary to retire into, where your anxious and troubled 
 spirits may repose on the contemplation of a character which is 
 endeared to you by many tender recollections. 
 
 Grace was born on the 23d of May, 1796, and in her in- 
 fancy she was more remarkable for gentleness and docility of 
 temper than for quickness of apprehension or extraordinary 
 parts. I early observed, l^owever, uncommon disinterested- 
 ness of character — a preference of others to herself; and this 
 was shown in the exultation with which she ran home from 
 school to tell of her sister's superior scholarship. It was 
 never of herself she boasted; and though less accustomed to 
 attract notice than my two elder children, she never discovered 
 envy or jealousy on that account. Being one day much caressed 
 by an old lady, on my asking her why she thought that lady 
 had been so kind to her, she answeied, with much simplicity, 
 " I know why, mamma: because I am clumsy, and have not a 
 pretty face." 
 
 In the summer of 1802, my two elder children went to 
 Yorkshire, and Grace was the eldest of the four that remained 
 with me. She was then six years old, and this seniority made 
 her more the companion of my walks than she had hitherto 
 
342 MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 
 
 been, and perhaps more the object of my attention. We lived 
 during that summer at the village of Dalmeny, about nine 
 miles from Edinburgh. Grace and I began to botanize to- 
 gether, and I was sui-j^rised at the readiness of her apprehen- 
 sion and her quickness in discovering new plants and leaves. 
 She had great delight in this amusement. She had before 
 this time made little progress in reading, but she used to sit 
 on my knee for hours together listening to stories aiid recita- 
 tions of poetry, entreating for a repetition of them again and 
 again. This sununer seemed to be an era in her mental 
 existence. I used to find her in a quiet corner, reading with 
 intense and passionate delight all kinds of stories and works of 
 fancy. Nor was her imagination merely passive; for when at 
 play with the other children, she was inventive, lively, and 
 affectionate. When she was eight years old I engaged a 
 governess highly recommended to me for integrity of principle 
 and useful habits. This lady remained with me nearly five 
 years, and I found her useful in many respects; but the stern- 
 ness of her temper did not suit some of my children, and if 
 this part of my life were to occur again, I would act differently, 
 and I have often reproached myself with the tears I suffered 
 to be shed in the school-room. I had hitherto pursued no 
 system with my children but to make thom happy, and en- 
 deavor to make them good. I was their play-fellow, their most 
 intimate companion, but I had neither time nor patience to be 
 their teacher; and as I was quite satisfied with their teacher's 
 integrity of purpose and usefulness of habits and aims, I rec- 
 onciled myself to her defect of temper as an evil which my in- 
 dulgence would mitigate and counteract. 
 
 Grace, more than any of the rest, was the victim of this 
 severity. She never complained, but after expiating her little 
 faults by teai's and submission, consoled herself by taking 
 possession of a large chair in her mother's room, and there 
 with some favorite book (not seldom Plutarch's Lives, or 
 Shakespeare), she forgot her cares and sorrows, and had her 
 favorite passages to read to me when I came in. I could at this 
 moment think I see her, her counteuance beaming with delight, 
 and coiled up in the chair waiting for my return. 
 
 In June, 1806, we all went to the Lakes. Though the 
 
MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 343 
 
 pleasures arising from beautiful scenery are not early expressed 
 by children, they are long remembered. This summer was 
 full of enjoyment. Every new walk afforded a new pleasure. 
 Lakes and mountains were objects of poetical association, and 
 Coniston and Windermere were never forgotten. 
 
 There was a little rocky bit where caves were easily imagined, 
 in a copse wood behind Belmont House, and there my happy 
 children spent hours of that real enjoyment which none but free 
 and cherished children know. In this cave they enacted many 
 adventurous histories which produced much innocent mirth. 
 
 When winter returned, the school-room in Edinburgh be- 
 came perhaps the more irksome from the freedom and enjoy- 
 ment of the preceding summer ; but in July, 1807, we all went 
 to a new scene at Hebburn, in Northumberland, and they 
 again enjoyed the pleasures of the country, and Shetland 
 ponies, and an old border tower, where we had a school in 
 which they assisted, and where the governess worked with us 
 with hearty good -will. 
 
 Grace returned at this time, with her kind Aunt Dawson, to 
 Yorkshire, and the correspondence with home awakened in 
 her. at eleven years old, an unusual amount of sensibility and 
 tenderness of feeling. The sweetness of her disposition made 
 her much an object of affection to the friends she was with ; 
 and an intimate correspondence with her mother cultivated 
 her taste, and cherished that desire of intellectual improve- 
 ment which the irksome lessons of the school-room had a 
 tendency to repress. ^ 
 
 After I parted with the governess a different plan was 
 pursued. A small class was formed among some favorite 
 friends of my children, and masters of real ability came to our 
 respective houses to give lessons, which greatly advanced the 
 desire for knowledge in all my daughters. Grace's decided 
 talent for art began to show itself, and she had instruction in 
 drawing from busts, from Henning the artist, before he went 
 to London. 
 
 The great intimacy formed about this time with the youngest 
 daughter of Mr Mackenzie (" The Man of Feeling ") and some 
 other good and intellectual companions, were of great advan- 
 tage to my girls, and led them early to appreciate the blessings 
 
344 MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 
 
 of friendship with their own sex, and to discuss their innocent 
 desires and imaginations as only equals in age and taste can do. 
 
 In the autumn of 1810 I went with my eldest daughter to 
 London, and during the following winter Grace and Margaret 
 became more than ever my companions, and, pursuing their 
 studies together, they made considerable progress in Latin and 
 Italian, while their intimacy and attachment to each other was 
 greatly increased by the sympathy of tastes and the mutual 
 enjoyment of their cheerful and happy home. 
 
 It was about this period of her life that Grace became in- 
 timately known to my friend, Mrs. Millar, whose opinion of 
 her talents and early development of thought and understand- 
 ing was expressed to me with all the M'armth of generous 
 admiration. Her visits also at Milheugh to the daughters of 
 the celebrated Professor Millar, of Glasgow, increased her 
 ardor and love of knowledge, and excited her to a degree she 
 had never before experienced. Her letters to me from thence 
 were written in a strain of enthusiastic enjoyment. She used 
 to speak of this visit at Milheugh as the acme of her intellec- 
 tual existence. The extent and variety of knowledge that was 
 pointed out to her on subjects of taste, politics, and morals 
 made her feel, she said, how she had before trifled away time, 
 and when each day closed on these delightful speculations she 
 used to lie awake whole hours to revolve the great things she 
 hoped one day to accomplish. The humor and fun of some 
 members of that Scottish sisterhood formed no small part of the 
 enjoyment of the visit, as well as the explorations daily made of 
 the lovely glens and burns in the beautiful neighborhood of 
 Bothwell and Hamilton. 
 
 From these enchanting visions and animating scenes she was 
 recalled home by the illness of her father, and in his sick-room 
 she exerted herself with all that assiduity and tenderness could 
 suggest. The sweetness of her attentions and the cheerfulness 
 of her services could not be exceeded, and I found in her the 
 kindest and firmest support under all my anxieties. 
 
 In the winter of 1812 we were favored by a visit from 
 Miss Aikin, whose literary attainments, and whose lively, 
 varied, and powerful talents, furnished her with inexhaustible 
 sources of conversation. In these our beloved Grace shared 
 
MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 345 
 
 very largely. She became a peculiar object of Miss Aikin'a 
 attention and regard. They read and conversed together, and 
 the desire of making more classical proficiency was the result 
 of her intercourse Mith this accomplished woman She re- 
 sumed the study of Latin, and though it was sometiirres inter- 
 rupted by more favorite pursuits, it never afterwards ceased to 
 engage a share of her attention. 
 
 In the summer of 1812 she accompanied her father, mother, 
 and youngest sister into Yorkshire, and Margaret and she 
 resumed their favorite pursuits together with a jjleasure 
 heightened, if possible, by their late separation. 
 
 In the autumn of that year these sisters were present at a 
 York county election, and stood for several hours in the crowd 
 near the hustings to hear the speeches of the different cancji- 
 dates. It might seem extraordinary that girls of fifteen and 
 sixteen should enjoy this species of amusement, and yet I do not 
 exaggerate in saying that there was not among all the audi- 
 tors then present one heart that beat higher to the sentiments 
 of genuine freedom and enlightened patriotism than that of 
 the person whose character I am now portraying. Grace re- 
 mained in Yorkshire all the following winter, cheering by the 
 sweetness of her engaging manners the kind old friends whose 
 quiet and unvaried hours formed a striking contrast with the 
 gaiety and animation of an Edinburgh winter. During some 
 weeks of this winter she had the happiness to be the guest of 
 Mrs. Millar (who then resided at the village of Fulford, near 
 York), and certainly no-one out of her own family ever obtained 
 so strong an influence over her mind and affections. This waa. 
 in a great measure from the power of sympathy. This quality, 
 so engaging to the young, produced an intimacy which rarely 
 exists between persons of such different ages. Mrs Millar has 
 much vivacity of temper and feeling, with a strong and tender 
 capacity of affection. Her eloquent conversation and engaging 
 manners, and, above all, her elevation of mind and quickness 
 of sensibility, gave her unbounded influence over every human 
 heart that was capable of comprehending her. Over that of 
 our beloved Grace she exercised an influence that was almost 
 maternal, and she repaid this homage by the most perfect 
 affection for her adopted child. 
 15* . 
 
346 MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 
 
 Grace was peculiarly alive to feelings of compassion, and it 
 ■was not with her a passive and inactive feeling. During the 
 winter of this year a poor American woman was taken ill 
 when passing through Tadcaster on her way to Hull, the 
 settlemtJut of her husband, a seafaring man, who had died in 
 the south of England. No sooner did our dear Grace hear of 
 this unhappy stranger than she visited her in one of those 
 haunts of wretchedness which afford a night's shelter to the 
 wandering poor. Ann Tucker was the poor woman's name. 
 She was in the last stage of consumption, and the fatigue of a 
 long journey on foot had brought on symptoms of premature 
 childbirth. Under these circumstances of severe distress the 
 parish officers of Tadcaster were desirous to hasteii the poor 
 woman forward on her journey, that she might reach her 
 husband's settlement before her child was born. Grace was 
 shocked by the barbarity of their conduct ; and after expostu- 
 lating with them, and threatening to lay the case before the 
 neighboring Justices of the Peace, she accomplished the object 
 she had at heart, and personally attended the removal of this 
 poor woman from her wretched lodging to a comfortable room 
 in the parish workhouse, where Ann Tucker was shortly after- 
 wards delivered of a male child. Grace continued to visit her 
 poor patient at least once every day for several weeks. She 
 read to her, soothed and comforted her by compassionate atten- 
 tions, and took her such articles of food as suited better with her 
 sickly palate than that which the workhouse afforded. This 
 young woman was gentle, pious, aJffiectionate, and grateful 
 (Grace could never speak of her tenderness to her child with- 
 out emotion) ; but she became at last so feeble and emaciated 
 that she grew regardless even of her child, and sank away 
 almost witliout a struggle. Henry Tucker, the infant of this 
 poor woman, then became an object of no ordinary interest, 
 (irace had promised his mother to see that he was taken care 
 of ; and as long as she remained at Tadcaster, not a day passed 
 without her visiting him. The intrepid humanity that could 
 lead a girl of seventeen to contend with the ruggedness of 
 parish officers, and personally rescue a human being from such 
 suffering, requires no comment. But this was not the only 
 instance of her benevolence. She was constantly ahve to every 
 
MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 347 
 
 claim of pity, and yet she discriminated judiciously between 
 the really needful and the imposing beggar. 
 
 In the winter of that year, during her residence at Tadcaster, 
 she made considerable proficiency in painting, and finished a 
 good copy of the picture of a Jewish Rabbi. 
 
 In the spring of 1813 she returned to Edinburgh, with a 
 mind enriched by more extensive reading. Such of her letters 
 as have been preserved mark the progress of her vigorous 
 understanding at this period. 
 
 On the 14th of June, 1813, our whole family removed to 
 Park Hall, a small property which Mr. Fletcher had purchased, 
 and Grace enjoyed highly the mountain scenery of that part 
 of Stirlingshire. While her sisters amused themselves with 
 sketching landscapes, she used to draw groups of cottage 
 children, and not unfrequently found good picturesque subjects 
 for her pencil in the old beggars whom we met with in our 
 rambles. She engaged ardently with her sisters in teaching an 
 evening school, attended by some village children ; and it 
 would not be easy to find a family that realized more pleasure 
 than ours did that summer in the enjoyment of beautiful scenery, 
 in the happiness of family affection, and in the luxury of doing 
 good. We were at that time living in a very small house, 
 cheaply furnished by a village carpenter. We were too happy 
 to feel any desire for the gratifications of vanity, or to envy 
 those who possessed them. ' It was a summer of uninterrupted 
 happiness till we were deprived of Margaret's society. She 
 went into Yorkshire in the autumn of 1813, and I, accom- 
 panied by my two eldest children, went to pay a long pro- 
 mised visit to Mrs. Glasgow, at Mountgreenan, in Ayrshire. 
 Grace, during this time, remained at Park Hall with her 
 father and her youngest brother and sister. In the followino- 
 winter she remained in Edinburgh, and partook more than 
 formerly of general society, where her engaging manners and 
 animated conversation made her an object of attention wherever 
 she was known. 
 
 The summer of 1814 was one of deep interest to our whole 
 family. On the 16th of July, in that year, Grace's eldest 
 sister was married to Mr. Taylor, and such an event could not 
 happen in a family so tenderly united without much anxious 
 
348 MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 
 
 solicitude for her future happiness. Immediately after that 
 event the family returned to Park Hall, where Grace resumed 
 her habits of active benevolence, and shared with her sisters in 
 the task of instructing village children. She likewise pursued 
 her favorite amusement of painting with less interruption than 
 in town. She took a portrait of her father, and one of her 
 youngest brother. The former was an excellent likeness, but 
 her taste was so superior to her execution that she was always 
 dissatisfied with her performances, and often threw aside her 
 pencil in despair of overcoming the impediments which a female 
 artist must always feel from the want of scientific instruction. 
 Some of her sketches, however, made during this summer, of 
 old beggars and cottage children, were excellent, and obtained 
 the unqualified approbation of some good judges of drawing. 
 
 In December, 1814, she again left her beloved home to 
 cheer that of her friends at Tadcaster. I shall never forget 
 the sadness of her countenance as I saw her seated in the mail- 
 coach that was to convey her away from Edinburgh. It was 
 a dreary day in December, the snow was falling heavily, the 
 sky was dark and lowering ; she suppressed the expression of 
 her feelings, hut she sank back in her seat, pale and almost 
 faint with grief at the thought of leaving those she loved 
 so dearly. She was fortunate in having as the companions of 
 her journey friends who knew how to value her. In a few days 
 she wrote me an animated account of her journey, and a cheer- 
 ful view of her feelings and occupations at Tadcaster. She 
 was so naturally disposed to happiness that all the refinement 
 of her character did not render her fastidious. It was the 
 happiness of others, not her own, that she was always aiming 
 at, and this was the secret of her contentment and cheerfulness 
 of temper. She employed herself during this M'inter in painting 
 the portraits of her uncle and aunt, and succeeded so well that 
 Mr. Williams, an Edinburgh artist, assured her friends that 
 there were not above two artists there who could have executed 
 them better. There was, however, in the tone of her letters 
 this winter a more pensive expression, more longing for con- 
 genial society, and more indulgence of cherished recollections 
 connected with home than formerly. On observing this, 1 pro- 
 posed that she should spend a month or two amongst friends 
 
MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 349 
 
 in London, so that a variety of new objects and an enlarged 
 sphere of observation might exhilarate and amuse her. °To 
 this proposal she was less inclined to assent than might have 
 been expected from one so young and so alive to the gratifica- 
 tions of taste. But it separated her further from the home of 
 her affections, it prolonged that separation, it carried her amono- 
 strangers of distinguished intellectual character before whom 
 she dreaded to appear without the support she was accustomed 
 to derive from her own family. Ever disinterested in her pur- 
 poses and feelings, she objected strongly to the expense this 
 journey would occasion; but her friend Mrs. Millar (with 
 whom she passed a dehghtful week this winter) seconded her 
 mother's wishes in reconciling her to it, and accident favored 
 Its accomplishment, by giving her the opportunity of travelling 
 with Dr. and Mrs. Brunton. The delight she experienced 
 from this journey, and her sensibility to the kindness she re- 
 ceived from her excellent friend and companion, Mrs. Brunton, 
 and from others whom to know is to revere, is best expressed 
 :n her own letters, and the impression which her gentle man- 
 ners and cultivated mind produced on them is best to be col- 
 lected from their communications to her mother. She spent 
 six weeks in London, part of the time in lodgings with Mrs. 
 Brunton, who daily accompanied her to such exhibitions as 
 strangers most desire to see in London. At Mrs. Barbauld's 
 Grace enjoyed the highest and most refined pleasures of society, 
 and Miss Aikin's affectionate reception of her was warmly and 
 gratefully remembered. One of her own letters from Mrs. 
 Barbauld's house gives her feelings at the time better than her 
 mother can record them: — 
 
 From G. F:s letter to her Mother. 
 
 " Stoke Newington, June, 1815. 
 " Dearest of Minnies, - 1 left Hampstead with great regret 
 on Monday, and came to town for one day and night, which I 
 passed at Dr. Baillie's. There was a large party in the 
 evening, where I did not know many people, but where Mrs. * 
 Joanna was very kind in coming to speak to me very often- 
 indeed, I am truly grateful to her for her constant kindness' 
 
350 MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 
 
 and attention The next morning she took me to see a part 
 of the town I had not before been in — Hyde Park and Picca- 
 dilly. I was pleased to find such a place as the Park, where 
 the poorest inhabitants of this overgrown and dismal metrop- 
 olis may see the trees and green grass, and have some chance' 
 of feeling that a good Spirit formed the universe. After our 
 return, Mrs. Baillie kindly pressed me to stay; but as I had 
 fixed to dine at Mrs. Barbauld's that day, I declined. She 
 then insisted upon sending me in her carriage, and Mrs. 
 Joanna Baillie was so good as to accompany me. Mrs. Bar- 
 bauld received me most kindly, and I have passed with her 
 a week of a most quiet and gratifying kind of enjoyment. 
 The dreadful fear I had of Mrs. Joanna Baillie, the hopeless- 
 ness of pleasing her, gave a feeling of constraint which I 
 hoped I had got over, but which, whenever I saw her com- 
 posed figure enter the room, returned with painful force ; yet 
 I have seldom seen any human being that excites stronger 
 feelings of respect; and there is something so extraordinary 
 in the union of such excellent poetic genius and such simpUc- 
 ity, and even, plainness of manner, that your attention is con- 
 stantly alive to every word she utters, hoping you may hear 
 some poetical or elevated sentiment. She is one illustration 
 of Miss Benger's theory about complicated characters ; there 
 is so much left to the imagination, you must feel great interest. 
 But, to return to Mrs. Barbauld: there is in her so much indul- 
 gence for the fancies and even follies of youth, that in one 
 ■week I feel more at ease in her society, and more attached to 
 her, than I could be to Mrs. Joanna Baillie in years. En- 
 thusiasm has not departed from the character of Mrs. Bar- 
 bauld, but has left such deep traces, that you find many of her 
 feelings and opinions still tinged with its magic. In Mrs. 
 Joanna Baillie that glowing, elevating sentiment has dwelt in 
 such impervious depths, and pursued such secret paths, that 
 the passing eye might think her uninfluenced by its spells. 
 
 " Miss Aikin seemed very happy to see me. We meet almost 
 every day. Dr. and Mrs. Brunton dined here on Friday, and 
 were pleased with their visit to Mrs. Barbauld, and Mrs. B. 
 liked them. 
 
 " Owen came on Sunday and dined with us. You would see 
 
MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 351 
 
 his Bill had gone through the second reading; but it cannot 
 pass this session. Mrs. Barbauld thinks him visionary, but he 
 had not sufficient time to unfold all his ideas, and then he will 
 beat anybody (papa would say) by exhausting their patience. 
 
 " Maggie tells me our dear Mrs. Millar is with you. How 
 delightful that will be for you! I imagine you wandering up 
 to the burn this beautiful day, or some other pleasant place. 
 Dearest mamma, pray do not venture to ride the stupid starting 
 pony. I tremble whenever I think of the escape you had last 
 summer, even with your trusty squire Angus by your side. Is 
 darling Molly very busy with some little plan of her own? 
 Now let me answer your questions. I was pi'esent at the 
 'Family Legend,' and was much discomposed to see it so ill 
 acted — very inferior to the Edinburgh representation. Mrs. 
 Barclay looked ill, and acted worse. As it was a benefit night, 
 no disapprobation was shown, and Mrs. J. Baillie, who was 
 present, was so good-natured as to be pleased. Lord Byron, 
 who is now one of the Directors of Drury Lane, wishes to 
 bring on the stage another of her plays, I believe ' De Mont- 
 fort^.'"' He thinks it would be better adapted for the stage 
 were she to give some stronger motive for the hatred of De 
 Montford against Rezenvelt. In reading it you do not per- 
 ceive the want of this, considering the proud, irritable charac- 
 ter of De Montfoi'd, but the spectators, particularly in the 
 galleries, require some evident insult or cause of resentment." 
 
 At the Miss Baillies' house, Grace met Lord and Lady 
 Byron during the one year of their union. She admired the 
 sweetness of Lady Byron's looks, and the unaffectedness of her 
 manners, while she was struck by the gloom of Lord Byron's 
 fine but melancholy countenance. 
 
 She had great delight in the pictures she saw in London 
 and in Mr. Angerstein's collection, she studied them with the 
 eye of an artist and the taste of an amateur, but she knew no 
 other rules of judging than those which her own pure taste 
 prescribed. Murillo was decidedly her favorite. His pictures 
 had, she thought, more of poetry as well as nature, in them 
 than those of any other artists she saw. 
 
 Grace was much urged by Mrs. Barbauld to prolong her 
 
352 MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 
 
 visit at Newington : but her uncle and annt having fixed to set 
 off for Scotland in the beginning of July, she hastened down 
 to join them, and arrived with them at Park Hall on the 9th 
 of July, 1815. This was a happy meeting with her family, 
 from whom she had been separated for eight months. She had 
 much to tell of all she had seen and felt, and she used to say 
 that her London life had been so crowded with gratifications 
 that she enjoyed it more on recollection than at the time; but 
 what she most delighted to remember was the kindness she 
 met with from persons whose genius and virtue gave them the 
 highest rank in her estimate of human character. She had too 
 much feeling and too much imagination to be at ease in the 
 presence of such persons as Mrs. Barbauld and Joanna Baillie. 
 Their genuine modesty made her feel, as she expressed it, a 
 sort of self-annihilation; but this feeling of reverence for what 
 is really great and good so much resembles the sublimity of 
 devotional feeling, that it is delightful to minds such as hers. 
 
 From liOndon and all its wonderful varieties she returned 
 more fond than ever of her home and home society. The 
 summer was passed chiefly at Park Hall, from which s'nC r.nd 
 Margaret made an excursion to see the Lakes of Monteith and 
 the Trossachs, and their impression of this beautiful scenery is 
 still preserved in a letter which I received from them while on 
 a visit at Mr. and Mrs. Taylor's house at Bourtree Hill, in 
 Ayrshire. 
 
 During this summer Grace began a picture of her mother and 
 youngest sister, which was finished during the ensuing winter in 
 Edinburgh, to which place all the family returned in November. 
 
 In the course of this winter Grace was present at the per- 
 formance of the Oratorio of the " Messiah," the first musical 
 festival ever held in Edinburgh, and she was deeply touched 
 by the sublime and affecting music of Handel, sung by Marconi 
 and Braham, especially by the words sung with peculiar expres- 
 sion and simplicity by Madame Marconi — "He was despised 
 and rejected of men, a Man of sorrows and acquainted with 
 grief." Grace had never before felt the power of music in its 
 highest degree. She had a very sweet and expressive voice, and 
 had her musical taste been earlier cultivated, I think she might 
 have excelled in that accomplishment as much as in painting. 
 
MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 353 
 
 She saw her httle niece, Ehzabeth Taylor, for the first time, 
 this winter, and this new object of affection excited the most 
 tender interest in her heart. 
 
 Aboiit the same time she formed an intimate acquaintance 
 with Miss Wilkes, a most agreeable American lady, the niece 
 of Monsieur Simond ; and during the whole of this winter 
 Grace enjoyed the pleasures of Edinburgh society with an 
 animation peculiar to herself, for it was not in crowds that she 
 delighted ; hers was not that exterior gaiety which requires 
 strong excitement, and which often hides an aching heart, it 
 was the gaiety of intelligence, benevolence, and peace. At 
 Mrs. Elizabeth Hamilton's she was always a welcome and 
 cherished visitor ; but it was at home that her cheerfulness 
 diffused itself most sweetly. 
 
 The loss of our excellent friend, Mrs. E. Hamilton, ^ who died 
 at Harrowgate on the 23d of July, affected Grace extremely. 
 Many were the happy hours which she had passed in her 
 delightful society. Mrs. Hamilton had early discovered her 
 uncommon character, and had honored her with distinguished 
 regard. During this summer she amused herself with painting. 
 She improved and completed the pictures of her mother and 
 youngest sister, painted the year before, and enjoyed much 
 some parts of Yorkshire, and its beautiful villages, with those 
 feelings of benevolence -^hich delight in witnessing the comforts 
 of the poor. 
 
 On the 7th of October, 1816, Grace, with her mother and 
 her brother Angus, left her kind aunt and youngest sister to 
 return to Edinburgh. They paid several pleasant visits on the 
 way in the county of Durham ; spent some days with Lady 
 Williamson, at Whitburn Hall, and Mrs. Millar, who then Uved 
 near that place, and reached home on the 19th of October, 1816. 
 She said on that day she had never enjoyed a journey so much. 
 As the carriage drove up the Canongate of Edinburgh, while 
 the clock of the Tron Church was striking eight, she exclaimed, 
 " Oh! how rejoiced I am to see once more ' mine ain romantic 
 town.' " 
 
 Before the return of the rest of the family from Park Hall 
 she urged me strongly to form a resolution against engaging in 
 
 1 Author of " Cottagers of Glenbumie," and " Life of Agrippina." 
 w 
 
354 MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 
 
 the turmoil of large parties, either at home or abroad, during 
 the winter. She suggested that her father's delicate state of 
 health made it jDroper to abstain from these engagements, and 
 that the enjoyment they afforded was quite inadequate to the 
 expense, trouble, and vexation in which they involved us. 
 "Let us avoid crowds," she said, "and enjoy society." Her 
 sister Margaret heartily agreed with her in this request ; and 
 on one occasion, when a too great facility had made me yield 
 to the request of a lady to join an evening party at her house, 
 Grace brought me a pen, and, putting it into my hand, entreated 
 me to retract my engagement and keep firm to my resolution 
 of avoiding evening parties. Thus did her firmness, prudence, 
 and discretion establish a regulation in the family highly favor- 
 able in every respect to its comfort, ease, and real enjoyment. 
 But while she avoided crowds, she enjoyed the real pleasures 
 of society with a zest and vivacity more than usual. It seemed 
 as if she had a presentiment that she had not long to live, and 
 that the last months of her life should be as ful] of usefulness 
 and rational enjoyment as possible. If I could mention any 
 period of her life in which a deeper feeling of habitual piety 
 seemed to influence her whole conduct, it was this winter. 
 She had always possessed devotional feelings and a firm belief 
 in the truths of Christianity ; but those peculiar views, which 
 are in the best sense of the word evangelical, seemed now to be 
 gaining on her mind. They were strengthened by her intimacy 
 with Mrs. Brunton, and while they served to form a habit of 
 practical piety, they did not narrow her mind, nor limit her 
 charity and toleration for the religious opinions of those 
 who differed from her. The duties of humanity were never 
 neglected, nor were they ever suffered to interfere with the 
 duties of home. Three or four days of every week she and 
 her sister Margaret attended the House of Industry, or the 
 Lancasterian School, but from these she always returned home 
 before two o'clock, to accompany her mother if she chose to 
 go out. 
 
 During this winter our family became acquainted with Mrs. 
 Wilson (the widow of Theobald Wolfe Tone), whose character 
 and fate interested Grace in an uncommon degree. She 
 admired her talents, and loved her for the noble-mindedness 
 
MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 355 
 
 and generous enthusiasm of her character. They became 
 friends, and she offered to paint a picture of young Tone from 
 a portrait of him which his mother had, and which had been 
 injured in the carriage. The desire of gratifying this devoted 
 mother was an object which she had much at heart, and the 
 painting of young Tone's picture excited her extremely. She 
 succeeded well in finishing it, but an accident occurred in the 
 varnishing of the picture which destroyed her ,whole labor. 
 Instead of being disconcerted by this, she said, after mentioning 
 the accident to me, " Don't mind, dear mamma ; I hope I shall 
 be able to do a better." She began another, but did not live 
 to finish it. She likewise left an unfinished likeness of her 
 father. The mornings that were not devoted to the superin- 
 tendence of the House of Industry w-ere employed in reading 
 and painting. The evenings were given to domestic society, 
 ■where she diffused a cheerfulness and sweetness to which no 
 description can do justice. 
 
 In one of their visits in the month of March this year (1817) 
 to the House of Industry, Grace and Margaret met a crowd 
 in the Canongate, occasioned by the screams of a child of seven 
 years old, which a woman was leading to the Charity Workhouse. 
 They followed the woman, and learned that she had reared the 
 deserted orphan from infancy, but that the time was now come 
 ■when the managers of the poor had thought fit to take it from 
 her, according to the general rule, and place it in the Charity 
 Workhouse. The child, however, had repeatedly run home to 
 her kind old friend, and neither threats, punishments, nor 
 bribes, could detain her in the workhouse. The pertinacious 
 fondness of this child for her nurse interested the two sisters ; 
 they followed her to the workhouse, and, by strong recommenda- 
 tions of kindness to the matron, and by promises of reward to 
 the child, and by gaining for her permission to pay a weekly 
 visit to the nurse, they hoped to reconcile her to her fate ; but 
 in this they were disappointed : they found she had again 
 escaped the vigilance of the matron, that sh^ refused food, and 
 that, even when reduced to great debility by typhus fever, she 
 had gone, in the midst of a stormy night, to her nurse's door 
 and begged to be admitted. The sensibility and affectionate- 
 ness of this unfortunate child touched Grace's heart ; she left 
 
356 MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 
 
 no exertion untried to obtain her removal from the workhouse, 
 and by the influence of her excellent friends, Dr. and Mrs. 
 Brunton, she had the comfort of seeing her placed as a town 
 pensioner in the house of the nurse she had loved so dearly. 
 Whether or not it was in visiting this poor child that our 
 beloved Grace caught the fever of which she died, God only 
 knows. She was about her Divine Master's business — she was 
 walking in His steps and doing His commandments. When 
 could she have been fitter to appear in the presence of her 
 Father and her God ? The activity and universality of her 
 benevolence could only be equalled bj the disinterestedness, 
 gentleness, and sweetness of her temper. 
 
 On the Sunday before she was taken ill, she walked out for 
 some time with me and her sister Margaret ; and speaking of 
 the past winter, she said — "When have we passed so happy 
 and so undisturbed a winter ? This has been owing to its 
 quietness." She used to speak much and tenderly of her 
 absent sisters and her excellent aunt, and delighted herself 
 with the playfulness of her little niece, Elizabeth Taylor, who 
 was our inmate this winter. 
 
 The first thing Grace did every morning was to visit the 
 nursery and bring the child in her arms to my bedroom. The 
 child reposed on her tenderness, and always showed her marked 
 preference. Her affection for this engaging infant seemed to 
 afford her great increase of happiness. 
 
 On the Monday before her illness began she accompanied me 
 to dine with Mrs. Craik. She entered warmly into an argu- 
 ment against negro slavery, and supported her views on that 
 subject ably and eloquently, in opposition to a gentleman who 
 had lately returned from the West Indies. 
 
 On the morning of the day following. (Tuesday) she accom- 
 panied me to the House of Industry, and visited her little orphan 
 protegee at the house of her nurse, and in the evening she went 
 to see Kemble act " Hamlet," the last time he performed that 
 character in Edinburgh. I never saw her enjoy anything with 
 more animation. Her taste in acting was exquisite. 
 
 On Wednesday she employed herself in painting the second 
 picture of young Tone, and in the evening accompanied me 
 and her sister to Mrs. Brunton's. She was in excellent spirits, 
 
MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 357 
 
 and she at all times enjoyed Mrs. Brunton's society ex- 
 tremely. 
 
 On Thursday, after spending some hours at the picture of 
 her father, she went out to dispose of tickets for a benefit con- 
 cert for Miss Derby, a deserving young woman who had been 
 recommended to us by some English friends, and expressed 
 a wish to go herself to the concert, having never, she said, at- 
 tended one in Edinburgh before. In the evening we were at 
 home, and quite alone, and Grace read to us most beautifully 
 some of the finest passages from Young's " Night Thoughts." 
 Her voice, in I'eading, was touching and expressive, and her 
 taste correct and elegant. 
 
 On Friday evening she accompanied me and a small party of 
 friends to Miss Derby's concert, and returned in high spirits 
 and much pleased with the evening's performance, for though 
 her taste for music had been little cultivated, she felt its power 
 strongly. 
 
 On Saturday she accompanied her father and Mrs. Wilson on 
 a little drive to the country, and, on coming home, reminded 
 me of some visits which we had reproached ourselves with not 
 having paid. On these visits she accompanied me, and after- 
 wards enjoyed the society of a few friends at dinner, and of 
 Mr. and Mrs. Wilson in the evening. It was remarked by Dr. 
 Anderson, who was one of the party, that he never saw Grace 
 more animated, intelligent, ^nd pleasing. At night, after the 
 party had left us, she read aloud Southey's " Wat Tyler " (then 
 newly published), which-^was interrupted by much mirth and 
 laughter. 
 
 On the following morning (Sunday) she rose earlier than the 
 rest of the family, and, after breakfast, went with Miss Wright 
 (a friend of mine lately arrived from the country) to hear Mr. 
 Grey preach at a small chapel in the Old Town. When 
 Margaret and I returned from our attendance at the Episcopal 
 Chapel, we found her in the drawing-room. She complained 
 of headache and weariness, and said the heat of the small and 
 crowded, place of worship she had been in had made her feel 
 faint, and that now she felt cold and disposed to shivering. I 
 recommended her to lie down in bed, but she said she hoped to 
 be better after dinner. She went down to dinner with us, and 
 
358 MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 
 
 took tea in the drawing-room, but retired early. Next day she 
 kept her bed, still complaining of headache; and at night, on 
 rising for a little while to have her bed made, she fainted. I 
 sent immediately for our family doctor, Mr. Turner, but, in 
 spite of the remedies he applied, she became every day more 
 hot, restless, and uneasy, especially during the night. 
 
 On Friday morning she sent for me, and said, " Oh, mamma, 
 I have had a dreadful night, but I think I could sleep in your 
 arms." I laid myself down beside her. She said, " Let us 
 pray;" and she slowly and distinctly repeated the Lord's 
 Prayer. She then laid her head on my breast, and seemed to 
 sleep quietly for a few minutes. On raising her head again, 
 she said, " Dearest mother, I have had my first sleep where I 
 bad my first food." Soon afterwards there was an increase of 
 heat and headache, which was not removed by the application 
 of more leeches to the temples. During the whole of the day 
 (Friday) her restlessness and anxiety increased, and towards 
 night high delirium came on. 
 
 The symptoms of typhus fever (for such it was now declared 
 to be) kept increasing all Saturday. During the continuance 
 of the delirium she constantly entreated to be taken home, and 
 anxiously asked, " Why she was suffered to lie in the streets; 
 why she was not suffered to go home." And once when I 
 told her she was at home, at that dear home where she had 
 spent so many happy evenings, she looked earnestly in my face, 
 and pressing my hand, said, " Dearest mother, you know how 
 I dote upon those evenings." 
 
 On Monday morning the pulse fell considerably, and the 
 blister seemed to have had good effect. Her feverish delirium 
 subsided. She appeared all that day in a state of stupor, with 
 low mutterings. 
 
 On Tuesday Dr. Thomson thought her decidedly better. 
 On that night, when I was sitting by her bedside, she said — 
 " Bring a candle, and let the light shine full on mamma's face, 
 that I may see her." When the candle was brought, she 
 fixed her eyes on me with an expression of tender earnestness 
 for a few minutes, as if to search my thoughts, or, perhaps, to 
 look her last. At this time she seemed not to recognize any 
 of the rest who attended her; but whenever I approached her 
 
MEMOIR OF GRACE FLETCHER. 359 
 
 bed she stretched out her arms, and once she said — " Dearest 
 mother, if I should die, I do not suifer excessive pain." 
 
 On Wednesday she appeared worse than the day before, and 
 Dr. Gregory was called. He did not conceal from me that 
 the danger was extreme. He ordered wine in considerable 
 quantity to support her. For three days it appeared to agree 
 with her well, and there was no increase of any dangerous 
 symptom. After the first sleep procured by an opiate, she 
 said — "Oh, how inexpressibly happy do I feel!" Never, 
 amid the wanderings of delirium, did a word escape her that 
 was at variance with the piety and purity of her whole life. 
 Once she clasped her hands, as if in an attitude of prayer, and 
 said, " Give us, Lord, the spirit of love, that we may delight 
 to do Thy will, and of discernment, that — that," and she 
 seemed to lose all recollection, and again relapsed into mutter- 
 ing delirium. 
 
 On Sunday and Monday, the 13th and 14th of April, the 
 headache and depression increased. On Tuesday she seemed 
 easier, and our hopes revived. That evening, however, as I 
 was sitting by her bedside, the stomach rejected the wine 
 given. The next day this symptom increased. All hope was 
 now over. She passed a day of great suffering from sickness, 
 and there was no interruption to the delirium ; but her voice 
 was strong, and I was not aware that all would so soon be 
 over. " Mamma, mamma,", were the last words she uttered. 
 
 She died on Wednesday night, at ten o'clock, April 16th, 
 1817. Dr. Thomson, \^ose kindness on that occasion can 
 never be forgotten by us, remained with us for four hours, and 
 did liot leave us till she had breathed her last. 
 
 Never was there such tender, dutiful, fond, and respectful 
 affection as her whole short life exemplified. Thankful to God 
 for having given me such a child, and still for sparing me so 
 many blessings in those that remain, may we be enabled so to 
 live that, when time shall be no more, we may be reunited to 
 her in a blessed immortahty. 
 
MEMOIR OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER, 
 
 ADVOCATE. 
 
 WITH A SKETCH OF THE POLITICAL STATE OF FEELING 
 IN EDINBURGH FROM 1791 TO 1815. 
 
 BY HIS WIDOW. 
 
 Character given of Archibald Fletcher, Esq., hy Lord Cockburn, 
 in his "Life of Lord Jeffrey," vol. i. p. 90. 
 
 " A pure and firm patriot. Throughout all the changes 
 that occurred in his long life, he was the same, — never neglect- 
 ing any opportunity of resisting oppression, in whatever quarter 
 of the globe it might be practised or threatened, ashamed of 
 no romance of public virtue, — always ready to lead, but, from 
 modesty, much readier to follow, his Whig party in every con- 
 flict of principle, — and all with perfect candor and immovable 
 moderation. 
 
 " He was almost the father, and was certainly the most per- 
 severing champion, of burgh reform in Scotland, But indeed 
 his whole life, devoted as it was to the promotion of every 
 scheme calculated to diffu'se knowledge and to advance liberty 
 in every region of the world, was applied with especial zeal and 
 steadiness to the elevation of his native country." 
 
 " BiLToN Cottage, near Rugby, May'2\st, 1829. 
 "My dear GiiANDCHiLDREN, — You wcre all so young 
 •when you lost your excellent grandfather that I have thought 
 it right to give you a short account of him, both for your 
 satisfaction and improvement. I might have made this 
 Memoir of his useful and honorable life much longer, yet my 
 object being to interest and impress your hearts with veneration 
 for his memory rather than to give a minute detail of the 
 narrative of his life, I hope you will accept it, imperfect as it 
 16 
 
302 MEMOIR OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER. 
 
 is, with my prayers, that it may please God that you may all 
 so live as to be worthy representatives of him, both in his 
 public and private life. — I am, dear children, your affectionate 
 grandmother, Eliza Fletcher." 
 
 Archibald Fletcher was born at Pooble, in Glenlyon, in 
 Perthshire, in the year 1746. His father, Angus Fletcher, was 
 a younger brother of Archibald Fletcher, Esq. , of Bernice and 
 Dunans, in Argyllshire: and their ancestors were, according to 
 the tradition of the country, the first who had raised smoke or 
 boiled water on the braes of Glenorchy. 
 
 In that wild and mountainous district the Fletchers had 
 been a numerous and warlike clan for many centuries ; and 
 near to Loch Auchalader there may still be seen the mossy 
 cairns where the bones of the fierce Macdonalds and M'lnlais- 
 ters were interred, after a deadly feud fought near that spot 
 many hundred years ago, on account of some disputed ground 
 which each clan claimed as their' rightful inheritance. The 
 patronymic of M'lnlaister, translated from the Gaelic, signifies 
 "Man of the Arrow." Whether the Fletchers were of old 
 celebrated for making, or for using, arrows is uncertain ; but 
 the Stewarts of Appin, a very powerful clan in feudal times, 
 found the M'Inlaisters such useful allies in battle that they 
 formed a treaty of alliance with them in the fourteenth century, 
 and bound themselves to espouse the interests of their clan in 
 all their hostile encounters, on condition of receiving their help 
 in times of need. 
 
 Angus Fletcher was twice married. He had four children 
 by his first marriage. Archibald, your grandfather, was the 
 eldest son by his second wife, Grace M'Naughton. She was a 
 woman of most noble nature, affectionate dispositions, strong 
 sense, and fervent piety. She lost her husband when her six 
 children were very young. It may be supposed that the 
 property of a Highland tacksman, eighty years ago, would 
 not be considerable when divided between a widow and ten 
 children. But their mother, notwithstanding her second mar- 
 riage, proved so faithful a guardian of their little property, 
 that she was enabled to give her sons the education of 
 gentlemen. Archibald used to delight in the recollections of 
 
MEMOIR OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER. 363 
 
 his Highland boyhood. His favorite sport was spearing 
 sahxion by torchlight ; and often, with his httle troop of 
 brothers, housed to leap from a height into a peat moss breast- 
 high, and then spring into a mountain stream to wade and 
 splash amidst the torrent. I never could discover that he had 
 any taste for pastoral life ; it was too inanimate and tranquil 
 for his ai-dent temperament. He used, when quite a boy, to 
 delight in hstening to the tales and songs of wandering bards 
 who frequented his mother's farm, but these were tales of 
 battles ; and he well remembered his joyful anticipations when 
 any of the family were to be newly clothed, because the 
 itinerant tailor of Glenlyon had a vast store of Ossianic lore, 
 and Archibald used to sit by his side the day through, 
 hstening to the poems of Ossian, and the tales of ghosts and 
 fairies. His imagination, however, was not so much capti- 
 vated by the marvellous as his moral taste was elevated by the 
 sublime. He delighted, even then, in the generosity and 
 magnanimity of Fingal and his heroic times, and never to the 
 last hour of his life could he read or hear of a noble action 
 without being moved to tears. This high toue of feeling, 
 fostered no doubt by the legends of the tailor bard, was likewise 
 cultivated by his mother's habitual piety and unworldly turn of 
 mind. She was profoundly acquainted with her Bible, and she 
 made its pure and holy precepts the guide of her life. Her 
 dwelling was at least ten miles from the parish church, and on 
 the Sabbath afternoon many of the neighboring cottars who were 
 unable to walk so far, assembled on a hill-side in summer, or in 
 a shiehng near her house, and there, seated in the midst of them, 
 she read to them from her English Bible, translating into Gaelic 
 the parables of the Saviour, or the prophetic portions of the Old 
 Testament, or the patriarchal histories so well suited to interest 
 her shepherd clansmen. 
 
 There was then no translation of the Bible into the Gaelic 
 tongue ; it was to these poor Highlanders a sealed book. Mrs. 
 M'Diarmid exercised the office of a home missionary among 
 her neighbors from a principle of pure love to Go*d, and from 
 an earnest desire to do them good, neither arrogating any 
 merit nor expecting any reward. This gratuitous exercise of 
 the holiest charity had its reward however in the affection and 
 
864 MEMOIR OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER. 
 
 respect of her little flock, who had such confidence in her 
 judgment and kindness that they consulted her in all their 
 difficulties. Nothing could exceed the harmony that prevailed 
 in her numerous family, and the impartiality of her conduct 
 towards her own children and those of her first and second 
 husbands. 
 
 Archibald's first separation from this excellent mother was 
 ■when he went to the Grammar School at Kenmore, in 
 Bi-eadalbane. He was then about ten years old, and there he 
 began to learn English and Latin (irannnar at the same time, 
 and soon distinguished him.sell.' as an aspiring and industrious 
 scholar. lie was removed at thirteen to the High School of 
 Perth, where his academical ardor was still more excited by 
 keener competition. Being one morning too late in making 
 his api^earance at school, his master degraded him to the 
 bottom of the class as a punishment ; his heart was hot with 
 indignation at this supposed injustice, but restraining the 
 expression of his feelings, in a few minutes afterwards, by a 
 fortunate superiority in scholarship, he regained his place at 
 the top of the class. The boys cheered him very loudly, and 
 then, giving way to the passionate expression of mingled feel- 
 ings, he burst into tears. From that moment, he used to say he 
 dated his devotion to popular feelings and his hatred of injustice. 
 
 As Archibald's small patrimony was nearly exhausted by 
 the expense of his education, and his inclination led him to 
 prefer the profession of the Law, he was placed at sixteen in 
 the office of Mr. Grant, a writer in Edinburgh, and from that 
 time was wholly dependent on his own exertions. Mr. Grant 
 formed so high an oi)inion of his worth and talents that he 
 appointed him by will sole executor in trust for his affairs, and 
 reeonunended him as confidential clerk to the then Lord 
 Advocate, Sir James Montgomery. Sir James had too just an 
 estimation of his merits to allow him to continue long in a 
 subordinate capacity. He became his zealous friend, and 
 recommended him to Mr. Wilson of Howden, with whom, after 
 serving a regular apjtrenticeship, he became an active and 
 eflicient partner. He took advantage of the good libraries 
 and good society of Edinburgh to cultivate his mind and 
 improve his taste. It was during this period of his laborious 
 
MEMOIR OF ARCinBALD FT^KTCUER. 365 
 
 profession;il life, when assiduous attention to his duties rec- 
 oniinended liirn to every one in whose eniployinent he was 
 enga<^ed, that for several years he used to rise at four o'clock 
 in the morning to study Greek; and he found time, when the 
 labors of the day had concluded, to attend literary and debating 
 societies, iind exercised his jien in the composition of various 
 ingenious essays, chiefly on nietaiihysical and literary subjects. 
 He attended at this time the lectures of Professor Adam 
 Fergusson, who so ably filled the Moral l'hiloso[)hy chair in tlie 
 University of Edinburgh, and while attending that class became 
 acquainted with Mr. Dugald Stewart, in whose deservedly high 
 reputation he afterwards always took the most cordial interest. 
 
 It was about the year 1778 that the regiment of M'Cra 
 Highlanders mutinied and refused to emliaik ;i,t Ijcith for 
 America. They nuiintained that they had been enlist(;d for 
 home service only, and that (jrovernment had broken faith with 
 them in proposing to send them abroad. These furious muti- 
 neers posted themselves on Arthur's Seat, ami obstinately re- 
 fused to obey the orders of their commanding oflicers. In this 
 alarming emergency, Mr. Archibald Fletcher was chosen to 
 negotiate with them. His perfect acquaintance with the Erse 
 language, and his high rc'putation for talents and integrity, quali- 
 fied him for this dillicult and delicate medi'ation, and entithul him 
 to the confidence of both parties. He was suffered to approach 
 the mutineers with a flag oif truce. Not one of them could 
 speak a word of Englisji^while many of their officers were 
 equally ignorant of Erse. This negotiation lasted several days 
 before Mr. Fletcher was able to reconcile the claims of the 
 opposite parties. He did, however, prevail on the mutineers 
 to lay down their arms, and the Government agreed to accept 
 their limited services to Ireland, from which they were after- 
 wards drafted into other volunteer corps to serve in America 
 during the war. 
 
 On the exjiiration of his apprenticeship, Mr. Fletcher entered 
 into partnership with Mr. W ilaon, and became a member of 
 the Society of Writers to the Signet. About tliis time the 
 Faculty of Advocates attempted to establish a regulation that 
 no man above twenty-seven years of age should become a mem- 
 
36o MEMOIR OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER. 
 
 ber of their body. Mr. Fletcher wrote a very able pamphlet 
 on the subject, addressed to the Society of Writers to the 
 Signet, exposing the illiberality of this regulation, and ascribed 
 it to an aristocratical spirit of exclusion, alike injurious to the' 
 aspirations of young men of talent and to the interests of the 
 Scottish Bar, which oiight to be open to all candidates qualified 
 by education and character for that honorable profession. This 
 essay obtained for the author the thanks of the Society of 
 Writers to the Signet. The irony and sound argument it con- 
 tained bore so severely against the exclusionists in the Faculty 
 of Advocates, that they withdrew the proposed regulation, and 
 never afterwards attempted to enforce it. The liberality of 
 principle and eloquence of composition which distinguished this 
 publication obtained for ]\Ir. Fletcher the friendship of the 
 Honorable Henry Erskine, whose high birth and gifted under- 
 standing alike made him averse to adopt the vulgar distinctions 
 that the exclusionists aimed at. From that time Mr. Erskine, 
 then holding the first rank at the Scottish Bar, honored Mr. 
 Fletcher with his most cordial friendship. Soon after this 
 pamphlet had attained its object, Mr. Fletcher published an 
 " Essay on Church Patronage," a subject at that time warmly 
 contested in the General Assembly. He took the popular 
 side of the question, and demonstrated by the most conclusive 
 reasoning that the choice of the minister of each parish ought, 
 according to the laws of the Church, to be vested in the 
 parishioners who were members of the Church of Scotland. 
 He exposed the servility of spirit which the present system of 
 Church-patronage produced, showing that it converted the 
 servant of God and the faithful pastor of His flock (which 
 a Christian minister should be) into a tima-serving and worldly- 
 minded dependant on the favor of the great. He proved 
 also that the exercise of their rights in the choice of their 
 religious teachers would accustom the people to reflection, and 
 raise them in their own esteem, and thus prepare them for 
 a due estimation of all the civil and political rights that be- 
 longed to them as a nation of free men. The " Essay on 
 Patronage " was written in a feai'less spirit, and with great 
 vigor and elegance of style, and the argument was enforced by 
 
MEMOIR OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER. 367 
 
 the happiest illustrations to prove the benefits of freedom, both 
 civil and religious. 
 
 About this time Mr. Fletcher was one of the founders of the 
 Juridical Society and a constituent member of the Highland 
 Society. To the business of both he devoted much of his 
 leisure time. 
 
 It was during the American War that his attention was first 
 directed to Politics, and he then acquainted himself extensively 
 with the history of nations, and the manner in which different 
 forms of government had influenced the human character. From 
 that period political science was his favorite object ; I might 
 almost say it became his passion ; for he perceived that there 
 was no effectual means of improving the condition of mankind 
 but by a wise and just government. He hailed the establish- 
 ment of American Independence as one of those great events 
 that serve to teach practical wisdom and moderation to old 
 Governments, and as an experiment of Republican principles 
 under circumstances much more favorable to their development 
 than the ancient Republics had enjoyed. 
 
 From that time Mr. Fletcher became an ardent admirer of 
 Mr. Fox ; but his love of liberty did not confine itself to abstract 
 speculation. In the year 1784 he became a member of a Society 
 the object of which was to inquire into and reform the abuses of 
 the Scottish burghs, the close system of a self-elected and irre- 
 sponsible magistracy which prevailed then being, as he conceived, 
 the root and hotbed of all^political delinquency, as it separates 
 the interests of the governors from those of the governed and 
 indulges the selfish and corrupt principles of mankind at the ex- 
 pense of the public good. To the object of Scottish burgh 
 reform Mr. Fletcher for some time, in a great degree, concen- 
 trated his exertions', and his gratuitous laboi's in that cause 
 were for several years intense and unremitting. He was chosen 
 Secretary to the Edinburgh Society of Burgh Reform, and 
 opened an active and extensive correspondence with the Liberal 
 promoters of that measure in every burgh in Scotland. The 
 delegates from these burghs met annually in Edinburgh ; and 
 after their secretary had collected a vast mass of evidence 
 proving the corruption of the system and the monstrous dbuses 
 to which it led, he was desired to draw " The Principles of the 
 
368 MEMOIR OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER. 
 
 Bill for Burgh Reform in Scotland " to be submitted to Par- 
 liament. 
 
 In February, 1787, Mr. Fletcher, accompanied by some other 
 gentlemen, was sent to London as delegate from the Scottish 
 burghs. It was then he became personally acquainted with Mr. 
 Fox and the other distinguished leaders of the Whig party. 
 Mr. Fox expressed his decided approbation of the views of the 
 Scottish burgh reformers, but lamented that he should not have 
 leisure that session to do justice to their cause. He recom- 
 mended the delegates to wait on Mr. Sheridan and commit their 
 important business to him. They did so. Mr. Sheridan readily 
 undertook to be their champion, and at an early period of the 
 session obtained a Committee of the House of Commons to in- 
 quire into the grievances. Mr. Fletcher was in daily attendance 
 on this Committee, and from what he then saw of the leading 
 Whigs, both in public and private society, he was convinced of 
 the integrity of their public principles, as well as delighted \vith 
 their candor and freedom from the bitterness of party spirit. 
 In no society did he ever hear the talents and merits of Mr. Pitt 
 more justly valued than in that of his rival statesmen. 
 
 It was while on his way to London, in 1787, with a mind in- 
 tensely occupied by the subject of this mission, that Mr. Fletcher 
 first met the lady who became his wife in 1791. It might be 
 supposed that having hved a bachelor above forty years, and 
 ■with a character formed by long habits of professional life, as 
 well as a mind directed to political and abstract speculation, Mr. 
 Fletcher might have had little indulgence for one whose age and 
 pursuits were so different from his own ; but the contrary was 
 remarkably the case. He was in the best sense of the word a most 
 indulgent husband. He liberally admitted his wife to a participa- 
 tion of his intellectual stores, and exalted her aims by cultivating 
 her sympathy in his own extensive views and elevated purposes. 
 
 In the years that followed, from 1791 to 1800, we expe- 
 rienced much of that strong excitement which the early period 
 of the French Revolution produced. Mr. Fletcher hailed the 
 first dawn of liberty in France as the harbinger of good not only 
 to that country but to the whole of Europe. He deprecated 
 all foreign interference in the political aifairs of a nation that 
 struggled constitutionally to be free. He heartily co-operated 
 
MEMOIR OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER. 369 
 
 ■with the Whig party in Edinburgh, and attended every anniver- 
 sary of the fall of the Bastile since the glorious day on which it 
 fell, the 14th July, 1789. 
 
 He took a deep interest in the deliberations of the Constituent 
 Assembly, and admired the abstract principles of the Gironde 
 party, while he condemned their want of vigor in not punishing 
 the authors of that bloody day (the 10th of August, 1792), and 
 the still bloodier which followed on the 1st and 2d of Septem- 
 ber ; for while he deeply cherished the principles of rational 
 liberty, he heartily deploi'ed the excesses committed in its name. 
 
 Mr. Fletcher attributed the power and mischievous influence 
 of the Jacobin faction in France in great measure to the foreign 
 interference which had been directed against the proceedings 
 of the Constituent Assembly. The coalition of crowned heads 
 encouraged the hopes of the Court faction and the anti-Revolu- 
 tionists, while the violent party among the Republicans became 
 alarmed by the threats of the Duke of Brunswick and the flight 
 of the King after he had solemnly sworn to be faithful to the 
 nation and the law. These circumstances combined to excite 
 the public mind to a state of political distrust and delirium, of 
 which bad men took advantage ; hence the Jacobins attained an 
 ascendancy over the moderate and enlightened Girondists, and 
 " The Reign of Terror " succeeded to that of law and justice. 
 
 "These opinions, which Mr. Fletcher declared on all occasions, 
 were so hostile to those of the political faction which at that 
 time governed Scotland, that his pecuniary interests as a barris- 
 ter were considerably affected by them ; for such was the servil- 
 ity of the public mind at that time, that it was not considered 
 safe to trust a Whig lawyer with the management of a case, 
 from the supposed prejudices of the Judges against their holding 
 those opinions. Mr. Fletcher always maintained that this was 
 an unfounded slander on the Scotch Judges, and that however 
 much in some instances they might have recommended them- 
 selves to seats on the Bench by political servility, he never knew 
 them violate the integrity of justice from political prejudices 
 against any member of the Bar. Certain it is, however, that 
 the Whig lawyers at that time were comparatively briefless, 
 and that agents were instructed not to employ their own brother 
 if they chanced to be opposed to the Minister of the day. 
 
 16* X 
 
370 MEMOIR OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER. 
 
 Although conscious that it would have made no difference in 
 my husband's line of conduct at this time, when we were often 
 reduced to our last guinea in " our Reign of Terror," it was my 
 happiness to delight in the uncompromising principles on which 
 he acted ; and he has often said to me that the support he de- 
 rived from my sympathy in these trying times was most consol- 
 atory to his mind. 
 
 Although Mr. Fletcher declined to become a member of the 
 British Convention, from his disapprobation of Universal Suf- 
 frage and Annual Parliaments which they advocated, and from 
 a conviction that such claims would increase the alarm among 
 the higher orders, and therefore strengthen Mr. Pitt's adminis- 
 tration, he never shrank from being the professional advocate 
 of those unfortunate and misguided men who suffered for such 
 intemperate opinions. He acted gratuitously as counsel for 
 Joseph Gerald, and others, accused of sedition; and when party 
 spirit was at its height of intolerance, and the Honorable Henry' 
 Erskine was deprived of the Deanship of the Faculty of Advo- 
 cates by a vote of the majority of that body, in 1796, on account 
 of being present at a meeting the object of which was to oppose 
 what were called the " Gagging "Bills," Mr. Fletcher was one of 
 the courageous thirty-eight who formed the minority of the 
 Faculty of Advocates on that occasion. 
 
 At this time he took an active part, as a member of the 
 Edinburgh Committee, for the Abolition of the Slave Trade, 
 and never lost sight of the business of the Society for the Im- 
 provement of the Highlands. His labors in the cause of Burgh 
 Reform were suspended owing to the alarm for what were 
 called " French principles," which operated unfavorably on all 
 questions of reform ; and Parliamentary Keform, once Mr. 
 Pitt's favorite measure, was now included in the cry against 
 all dangerous innovations. 
 
 While party feelings divided friends, and even members of 
 the same family from each other, Mr. Fletcher continued to hold 
 so high a place for personal integrity, his patriotism was so much 
 without pretension, and his conduct so wholly free from the im- 
 putation of sinister motives of any kind, that, though he suf- 
 fered professionally from the political panic of the times, he never 
 had a personal enemy, and he began to find his professional 
 
MEMOIR OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER. 371 
 
 emoluments gradually increasing. His law-papers were consid- 
 ered iQodels, both in perspicuity of style and acuteness of rea- 
 soning; whatever he did was done with the zeal and energy of 
 an upright purpose, and perhaps there never existed in any 
 mind more of the capacity of submission to the drudgery of 
 labor in the performance of professional duty united to inde- 
 pendence of spirit and unpretending dignity of character. 
 
 Almost the only part of Mr. Pitt's administration which Mr. 
 Fletcher heartily approved was the Irish Union; and he gave 
 that statesman great credit for retiring from office when he 
 could not redeem the pledge he had given for Catholic emanci- 
 pation. For that great measure my husband was a zea]f)us and 
 uncompromising advocate, identified, as he considered it to be, 
 with the traiuiuillity and safety of the whole British Empire, 
 and no less an act of policy than of justice. 
 
 He rejoiced in the formation of a Whig administration in 
 1806, and was, perhaps, one of the most disinterested men of 
 his party in that feeling, for he had formed no ambitious expec- 
 tations of promotion. 
 
 The death of Mr. Fox, which happened in September, 1806, 
 ■was an event Mr. Fletcher deplored, in common with every 
 friend of constitutional liberty. He had early admired that 
 great statesman for his vigorous opposition to the American 
 War, and still more for his consistent and manly resistance to 
 all interference in the internal affairs of France at the begin- 
 ning of the Revolution. lU was one of the fourteen gentle- 
 men who met to celebrttte'Mr. Fox's birthday on the 'ilth of 
 January, 1797, after his name had been erased from his Majesty's 
 Privy Council for his determined opposition to the French War. 
 This little meeting was composed of courageous spirits, for it 
 was known at the time that the names of the fourteen assem- 
 bled on that occasion were sent to Government as dangerous 
 and disloyal subjects. Mr. Fletcher rejoiced, however, that 
 Fox had been in oiTice long enough to accomplish the object 
 nearest his heart, — the abolition of the African Slave Trade; 
 though his honest endeavors to obtain honorable terms of peace 
 with France were frustrated by the arrogant and unreasonable 
 demands of Napoleon lUionaparte. 
 
 Mr. Fletcher was at this time so indignant at the tone of 
 
372 MEMOIR OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER. 
 
 defiance and threatened invasion assumed by France, that he 
 thought it was every man's duty to arm in defence of national 
 honor. With this feeling he entered as an ensign in the High- 
 land corps of volunteers. His soldierly accoutrements were a 
 subject of much amusement to his family and friends. His 
 quiet manners, and studious, sedentary habits, accorded ill with 
 the pomp and circumstance of regimental duty, but he set about 
 the acquirement of a military step and deportment with as 
 much zeal and earnestness as if the defence of the country had 
 depended on his individual exertions ; and at a mock battle at 
 Leith, when it was assigned to that part of the Highland corps 
 to wjiich he was attached to fall back for a time before an in- 
 vading enemy, he declared with characteristic simplicity, that 
 "he never could command Highlanders to retreat, and that, 
 if he did, he hoped they would disobey him." He quitted his 
 law-papers at the hour of drill without showing the least annoy- 
 ance at such interruptions, for as his old friend Lord Buchaa 
 observed, " Fletcher buckles on his sword in the spirit of a 
 civic soldier." 
 
 In the enjoyment of perfect domestic happiness, and in con- 
 sideration for the welfare and comfort of every member of his 
 family, he never was surpassed by any one. His children can. 
 never forget his quiet sympathy in all their pleasures, his 
 anxiety that they should enjoy every advantage of liberal edu- 
 cation, his tenderness towards them when they were sick, and 
 the great indulgence and reasonableness of his habitual con- 
 duct towards them. To his servants he was the most kind and 
 indulgent of masters, and to the poor and afflicted his nature 
 was so compassionate that he would have divided with them his 
 last shilling. 
 
 One instance of Mr. Fletcher's compassionate disposition is 
 well remembered in his family. A miserable female culprit 
 had been detected in the act of steahng from his premises, and 
 in the absence of their master and mistress his servants had 
 secured her until the police were summoned to take her before 
 a magistrate. Mr. Fletcher, on coming home, would not inter- 
 fere with the course of justice, but going quietly to the place 
 where she was in custody he gave her a loaf of bread, saying, 
 " Take that, poor woman ; you look hungry ; I dare say it waa 
 
MEMOIR OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER. 373 
 
 that that made you steal." He was ever ready to be the poor 
 man's advocate, and used to thmk his time well employed when 
 he could professionally assist the indigent or oppressed with his 
 advice and exertions. 
 
 The unjust aggressions of the French Government in Spain 
 made him rejoice in the assistance rendered to that nation by 
 the British Government in 1808. He took a strong interest 
 in the Peninsular War, because he considered the cause of Spain 
 to be just, and he hailed the peace so dearly purchased in 1814, 
 as it secured the fall of that military despotism which Napoleon 
 had established on the ruins of the French Republic. 
 
 The violation of the Charter by Louis XVHL, and the en- 
 thusiasm with which the army and the people of France received 
 their exiled Emperor on his return from Elba, gave rise to 
 mingled feelings of hope and apprehension. Of hope, that the 
 Chamber of Deputies would so limit the power of Napoleon 
 that not his will but the law on which he had dared to trample 
 should thenceforward govern France; and of apprehension, that 
 Napoleon was not of a character, any more than the Bourbons, 
 to profit by the misfortunes he had experienced. The hundred 
 days justified these apprehensions, and France, notwithstanding 
 her apparent devotion to this " spoiled child of victory," had 
 now so little confidence in his justice or invincibility that in- 
 stead of the four hundred thousand that had followed him to 
 Moscow in pursuit of glory, scarcely one hundred thousand could 
 be found to rally round him on the plains of Waterloo, when 
 nothing less than national independence was at stake. 
 
 The battle of Waterloo was so proud a day for Great Britain 
 that Mr. Fletcher rejoiced in it with true patriotic feeling; but 
 he did not rejoice without trembling, lest that confederacy of 
 armed powers which prevailed over the fortunes of one military 
 despot should forget what was due to France and to the rest of 
 Europe. The formation of the Holy Alliance confirmed these 
 fears. That league of Kings, allied for the express purpose of 
 perpetuating the abuses of old governments and repressing the 
 spirit of civil and religious liberty whenever it should appear, 
 enhsted among its adherents the Government of England. Mr. 
 Fletcher deprecated this union as the most disgraceful that 
 England could have formed. From this coalition, and not from 
 
374 MEMOIR OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER. 
 
 the spirit of its own laws and institutions, he attributed the 
 harsh and ungenerous treatment of our fallen enemy Napoleon 
 Buonaparte, whose sufferings at St. Helena ought, in his opin- 
 ion, to have been made as little severe as was consistent with 
 the peace and safety of Europe. 
 
 In the spring of 1816 infirm health obliged Mr. Fletcher to 
 retire from the Bar, just when the emoluments of his practice 
 began to reward the diligence of his professional life. So long 
 as health permitted he never complained of the fatigue of labor; 
 he loved his profession and delighted in the energetic exercise 
 of his mental faculties, but when obliged to relinquish it, he did 
 so without a nmrmur, and retired during the summer months 
 to his farm in Stirlingshire, where some additions had been 
 made to the house. The employment of planting, draining, 
 and improving the soil supplied to his active mind a substitute 
 for professional employment. 
 
 In the spring of 1817 Mr. Fletcher had the misfortune to lose 
 his second daughter; this was the first great blow to his domes- 
 tic happiness. She was in her twenty-first year, and had all the 
 gracious and endearing qualities that a highly gifted under- 
 standing and a most affectionate disposition could bestow. He 
 followed her remains to the grave, a true mourner, and never af- 
 terwards could mention her name without the tendei'est emotion. 
 
 After Mr. Fletcher ceased to be able to superintend his 
 farming concerns with pleasure to him, it v?as thought best 
 to part with the property in Stirlingshire ; and in the spring 
 of 1821- he took a lease of Auchindinny House and grounds, 
 on the banks of the Esk, and there his family had the comfort 
 of seeing him enjoy a serene and healthy old age. Reading, 
 conversation with his family, and benevolent projects, were his 
 chief pleasures. He was uniformly cheerful and contented, and 
 his interest in public affairs continued unabated. Till within a 
 short time of his death his eyesight was so good that he could 
 read without glasses. Here I could recount his many touching 
 expressions of gratitude to God for the blessing of our union, 
 for our happiness in each other and in our children, but 
 these are sacred subjects. He delighted in the playfulness of 
 his grandcliildren, and loved to see them all about him. He 
 was confined by his last illness only a few weeks to bed, and 
 
MEMOIR OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER. 37o 
 
 those who faithfully attended him can testify how patiently he 
 bore the wearisome days and nights of increasing debility, and 
 how considerate he was of others. He had no acute bodily suf- 
 fering, and his mind was in a composed and heavenly frame, for 
 thankfulness seemed to be his habitual state of feeling. He 
 died at half-past two o'clock in the morning of the 20th Decem- 
 ber, 1828. 
 
 His remains were attended to the grave by many faithful 
 friends. He was interred in the family burial-ground, on the 
 Calton Hill, on Wednesday, the 24th of December, 1828. 
 
 Sacreb 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER, ADVOCATE. 
 
 HE DEVOTED THE ENEEGT 
 
 OF A VIGOROUS, BENEVOLENT, AND DISINTERESTED SPIRIT 
 
 TO THE CAUSE OP CIVIL AND RELIGIOUS LIBERTY. 
 
 He died December 20th, 1828, 
 Aged 82. 
 
 Sacuti also t0 tfie iEemorg of fits ©augfjter, 
 
 GRACE FLETCHER, 
 Who died the 16th op April, 1817, 
 , ) Aged 20. 
 
 BLESSED ARE THE PURE IN HEART, 
 FOR THEY SHALL SEE GOD. 
 
 Extract from Lord Brougham's Introduction on Burgh Reform, 
 relating to Archibald Fletcher's exertions in that cause, in 
 the Collected Edition of his Speeches. 
 
 "To both the state of its parliamentary and its municipal 
 constitution the attention of Scotland had, at different times 
 during a long course of years, been directed by some very able, 
 virtuous, and patriotic persons whose labors were unremitting 
 for the removal of the abuses thus pointed out and traced to 
 their source, and who, in the time of alarm that followed the 
 
S76 MEMOIR OF ARCHIBALD FLETCHER. 
 
 earlier scenes of the French Revolution, were fated to see the 
 fruit of their labors blighted long before it was ripe. Among 
 these eminent patriots the first place is due to Archibald 
 Fletcher, a learned, experienced, and industrious lawyer, one 
 of the most upright men that ever adorned the profession, and 
 a man of such stern and resolute firmness in public principle as 
 is very rarely found united with the amiable character which en- 
 deared him to private society. Devoted from his earliest youth 
 to the cause of civil liberty, his mind had become deeply imbued 
 with a sense of the corruption which had crept into our consti- 
 tution and disfigured its original excellence. His zeal for the 
 maintenance of these principles, and his anxiety for the reno- 
 vatioii of British liberty, wei-e, if possible, still further excited 
 by the matrimonial union which he entered into with a lady 
 of Whig family in Yorkshire (one of the most accomplished 
 of her sex, who, with the utmost purity of life that can dignify 
 and enhance female charms, combined the inflexible principles 
 and deep political feeling of a Hutchinson or a Roland) ; and he 
 devoted to the great work of reforming the Scottish elective 
 system, both as regarded its parliamentaiy and municipal 
 branches, every hour which could be spared from the claims of 
 his clients. The proceedings in the Convention of Royal 
 Burghs, the bills introduced by the Crown lawyers for reform- 
 ing the scheme of their accounting, the motions for Scotch 
 reform made by Mr. Sheridan, were all intimately connected 
 with his unremitting and most useful labors, nor could any- 
 thing but the alarm raised by the deplorable turn of French 
 affairs have prevented some important measures, at least of 
 Burgh Reform, from being adopted nearly fifty years ago. Al- 
 though his life was protracted to the extreme period of the life 
 of man, he was not perniitted to see the triumph of the cause to 
 which he had been devoted, and for which his latest prayers 
 were offered." 
 
 Cambridge : Press of Jolin Wilson and Son. 
 
 !47 7 
 

 
 
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